Just wanted to say, thank you for the reviews so far! ^^
And I'm thinking about working on my own front cover for this - my very own portrait of Tirane. So I'll try and get that done soon.
Hope you enjoy this chapter! A little more about Tirane and his personal quest. :)
Tirane and Hadvar had a difficult time scaling down the rocky cliffs from the keep, but they finally reached the bottom in a huge wave of relief. The armour didn't help, Tirane thought, but Hadvar seemed to move around with no problem. Still, he was reluctant to take it off. There wasn't much else he could wear or defend himself with, even if he looked like a Stormcloak.
A growing fear inside Tirane had at last subsided, as he was out of Helgen safely and the monstrous image of the dragon was nowhere to be seen. It felt like it was a dream, as he half-expected the whole world to be in ruins from the dragon's attack. But the nature of Skyrim lived on despite the numerous deaths that happened that day.
"We better get going," Hadvar said, and they both set out, ignoring their fatigue as much as they could.
The cool breeze was very relaxing, and they followed the large dirt path until they met with the main stone road.
"We'll go to Riverwood. It's not far from here, and I have family there."
Tirane nodded in agreement, and off they went, jogging along the road, enjoying the scenery, and walking when they grew too tired. Tirane was glad they would be in the company of Hadvar's relatives. They could expect a warm meal and a good night's sleep, which Tirane was desperately looking forward to.
Hadvar was struggling with fatigue, Tirane noticed. He, himself, was fortunate enough to sleep before, even if it was a little, but Hadvar's wound was definitely taking its toll. Both were soon sweating even in the cold air, and the sky began to darken as the day grew old.
They continued following the long, stone road, slowly descending from the high hills where Helgen was located. Tirane had never seen such a view before. Glancing at his side, he could see a large part of Skyrim that seemed to go on forever, with a vague horizon, covered by clouds and mist with the indefinite outline of mountains. He could see tiny movements on the plains below him belonging to different animals and creatures. Every time he was immersed with the view, he would fall behind a little, and Hadvar would have to remind him to keep up.
Before long, the sound of hooves could be heard from afar, and with a shock, Tirane and Hadvar both caught a glimpse of two riders racing towards them on the road.
They both stopped, unsure of their identity.
"What should we do?" Tirane asked.
"They seem to be heading for Helgen," Hadvar told him. "Well, Helgen is the place to go if you take this road, at least. We'll wait here."
Tirane nodded reluctantly. He didn't want a confrontation with anybody right now, but the riders, whoever they were, would have spotted them by now.
Both stood at the side and watched closely at the two riders approaching. Tirane suddenly stiffened when he realised who they were.
Their gold shiny armour was instantly recognisable, and their steeds were perfectly groomed. Definitely not Skyrim horses, Hadvar thought. They began to slow down as the Thalmor approached, glaring down at them both with deep suspicion and arrogance.
"You there. Soldier," one of them addressed Hadvar. "What are you doing with this Stormcloak?"
Tirane's heart almost skipped a beat as he was reminded of his armour. He could be in great trouble.
"He's a prisoner of mine," Hadvar replied, to which Tirane looked down defeated to play along.
The Thalmor narrowed his eyes. "Shouldn't his hands be tied at least? And where did you come from?"
Hadvar stayed silent for a moment, trying to decide whether to lie or not. "We've come from Helgen."
"Helgen?" the Thalmor asked bewilderingly.
The other High Elf, a female one, approached with her horse to get a better look at them both. "Shouldn't he have been executed there? Why don't we kill him just now?" she asked with a high, smug voice. "Fool of a Talos worshipper."
Tirane's eyes widened at her suggestion as the other Thalmor wore an agreeable face.
Hadvar quickly responded. "You see, we're taking this prisoner to Solitude for interrogation. He knows where the other Stormcloak camps are located."
The Thalmor's horse shuffled a little, as the male one stared at Hadvar with great disbelief. "Where are the rest of you?" he asked monotonously.
"General Tullius and the others are still at Helgen. Well, they should have left by now. We've finally executed Ulfric Stormcloak, you see."
The Thalmor's face certainly lit up at this false news. "Tullius sending a lone soldier to escort a Stormcloak to Whiterun? Certainly what you would expect of an Imperial general." His horse shuffled and snorted. "Fine. His victory must have overcome his good sense. One more question, soldier."
Hadvar swallowed and Tirane stared down at his feet.
"Where did you get those injuries from? You both look like you've experienced an earthquake."
Tirane nervously looked at Hadvar, hoping he would think of something good.
"We had a bit of a scuffle during the ambush. We lost a few of our men." He paused for a moment. "And the fire arrows we were using got a bit out of hand."
The Thalmor rolled their eyes slightly. Hadvar knew the more he belittled the Imperial army, the more it would please them. Tirane sighed a little in relief. He was wondering how he would explain the soot covering them.
The High Elves took a moment of thought, their horses slightly shuffling, and Tirane's heartbeat grew louder and louder the longer they took.
"Perhaps we should take them with us?" the female suggested, voice full of disbelief.
"It would slow us down. I want to see that Ulfric Stormcloak's head on a stick," the other spat. He looked down at Hadvar and Tirane. "You can go. But tie that Stormcloak's hands, and make sure he gets tortured enough, and then dispose of him immediately."
"Of course," Hadvar assured him.
The Thalmor handed them rope and watched as Hadvar tied Tirane's shaking hands. He had never wanted to feel like a prisoner again, but he had to play the part, and remained silent.
"And make sure once you reach Riverwood, that another helps you escort him to Whiterun. That Tullius… I can't begin to imagine what he was thinking," the female Thalmor snorted.
Hadvar nodded eagerly in response.
The Thalmor didn't say another word, but took off at a high speed with their horses, not looking back. They both began walking in silence, and kept the rope in fear that the Thalmor were watching their movements. The sound of hooves had quickly disappeared, but Tirane was still willing to keep his hands tied.
"The day the Thalmor believe an Imperial saying Helgen was attacked by a dragon is the day they start worshipping Talos," Hadvar muttered to himself.
"They really wouldn't believe you?" Tirane asked doubtfully.
"Not at first. They would believe I was lying to them, kill us both for being Stormcloaks, get to Helgen, and then believe our tale. They must have been rallying with the other Thalmor there. I doubt they made it out alive."
"Then we better hurry then," Tirane said. "As soon as they see what happened there, they'll come after us, right?"
"Perhaps. But our tiny existences have probably already left their minds," Hadvar smirked. "With a dragon attack, they'll have more pressing matters at hand."
"I think they're gone now." Tirane shuffled his hands.
Hadvar cut his binds for the second time that day with a small dagger, and Tirane rubbed his wrists in belief.
They began their jog again, feeling a little refreshed at the rest, even if it was a tense situation.
"I've seen the Thalmor before," Tirane told him. "Never spoken to one though. They were always swarming the Imperial city. They wouldn't give a second glance to the beggars on the ground though. But if you looked at them the wrong way, or just happened to be in their path, there was a chance they would take you in suspicion for being a spy. A spy for who, I have no idea."
"You lived in the Imperial City?" Hadvar asked. "The Great War must have taken its toll for you."
"Well, I wasn't alive then."
"Of course," Hadvar replied, groaning.
"I was told how the city used to look though. How the White Gold Tower was the pinnacle of the city. But not anymore. It's something people divert their eyes at. The destruction of it before made it lose its beauty and significance. Now all it signifies is the Empire's defeat."
Tirane's voice diminished and his eyes were slightly raised, thinking back to the city and its appearance.
"Why did you leave?" Hadvar asked, curious.
Tirane almost chuckled. "I was forced to. If I stayed, I'd be in a prison right now. I'm a thief."
Hadvar's eyes widened. "So you probably did deserve to be on that wagon."
"Well, I was a thief. All my crimes will stay in the Imperial City, and I was given a choice. Flee or be imprisoned for the rest of my life." Tirane turned to Hadvar with a slight smile. "I was almost given a worse fate when I came here."
Hadvar became silent and Tirane could tell he was contemplating his words.
"Don't worry, Hadvar. I told you before. I came to Skyrim for a reason. My crimes will stay in my past. Besides, it was pretty difficult not to steal when you're a young orphan in a deteriorating city trying to survive." Tirane slowed a little. "I wasn't the only one."
"I see. Sorry for misjudging you. But you seem very well-spoken for a thief," Hadvar remarked.
Tirane smiled as he delved into his past again. "Well, I have someone to thank for that. We had a sort of… mentor. I was fortunate enough to be educated by him. He would try and look out for the orphans in the city as much as he could. He tried his best, giving us food when he could afford it. Most in the city these days are close to poverty, if they aren't living in it already. Meanwhile, you have the nobles and the Thalmor prancing about, feigning ignorance to what's around them. I've always hated the Thalmor," he spat.
"Be careful where you say that, Tirane," Hadvar advised. "The Thalmor are known for labelling lone travellers as Talos worshippers and torturing them to death. Their control over the Empire has made them extremely arrogant and they abuse their power."
"So the Stormcloaks are fighting with you for something both sides want?"
"It's not as simple as that. I'm sure you've heard about Ulfric killing Skyrim's High King."
Tirane shook his head and Hadvar stared at him in disbelief.
"Well, what triggered Ulfric's little rebellion was his confrontation with High king Torygg. He slaughtered him with the power of his voice."
"His voice? What do you-"
"Wait. There's Riverwood. We'll talk later."
As Hadvar pointed, Tirane immediately perked up at the sight of the town. But a worry crept through his mind.
"Will I be ok wearing this?" Tirane asked nervously, gesturing at his Stormcloak armour.
"We're in the Whiterun hold now. Officially, Whiterun itself is neutral, and there won't be anyone here as suspicious as the Thalmor, hopefully. We'll figure out what to do next."
Tirane nodded and they both entered the town. It was smaller than Helgen but more comforting. Helgen screamed Imperial presence, with its tall grey stone walls and Imperial flags, but the buildings here were made of wood and gave off an earthy, welcoming atmosphere. There were many people crossing the dusty streets, going home from work and enjoying themselves socialising. It was a very different atmosphere to what Tirane had gotten used to in the past while.
Tirane nervously followed Hadvar into the town, wondering what people would think of them, but they received no attention from the busy workers and farmers. The women headed home, and the men seemed to head one way – to a nearby inn.
"Who is it you're related to it?" Tirane asked quietly behind him.
His question was answered once they stopped outside a wooden house, and next to it under a shelter was a large blacksmith forge. A tall, stubbly man was clearing bits of metal and leather away, allowing a large yawn to escape his mouth as he turned around and spotted them both.
"Uncle Alvor!" Hadvar greeted. "Hello!"
"Hadvar?" Alvor replied with a rough voice. "What are you doing here? Are you on leave from…"
As Hadvar and Tirane walked up to the porch, Alvor began to inspect their ruffled state. "Shor's bones, what happened to you, boy? Are you in some kind of trouble?" he queried anxiously.
"Shh.. Uncle, please. Keep your voice down. I'm fine," Hadvar reassured him. "But we should go inside and talk."
Alvor's face scrunched up. Tirane could tell he was an impatient man. "What's going on?" Alvor questioned. "And who's this?" He gestured towards Tirane, with his eyes slightly narrowed with distrust.
"He's a friend," Hadvar guaranteed him. "Saved my life in fact. Come on, I'll explain everything, but we need to go inside."
"Okay, okay. Come inside, then. Sigrid will get you something to eat and you can tell me all about it."
Tirane tensely followed them both into Alvor's house. Now that they had reached their destination, he felt tremendously exhausted. He wasn't really in the mood to talk about what happened, but he did perk up at the mention of food. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't eaten anything all day.
"Sigrid! We have company!" Alvor called, summoning his wife from downstairs.
"Keep it down, I just put Dorthe to bed," she nagged until she spotted her visitors. "What in the name of Dibella happened? Is that you, Hadvar?"
"Sigrid, make the boys something to eat. They'll be hungry enough to eat a mammoth."
Alvor took a seat at his wooden dining table and Hadvar sat opposite comfortably. Tirane lingered for a moment hesitatingly before taking a seat next to Hadvar. He watched Sigrid begin to cut and prepare some vegetables nearby.
"Now, then, boy. What's the big mystery? What are you doing here, looking like you lost an argument with a cave bear?"
Hadvar chuckled and Tirane smiled slightly. "Funny you use that analogy."
Alvor suddenly noticed his injured arm. "What happened to your arm?"
"It's fine, for now. But… I don't know where to start. You know I was assigned to General Tullius's guard. We were stopped in Helgen when we were attacked… by a dragon."
Alvor immediately shook his head, chuckling to himself. "A dragon? That's… ridiculous. You aren't drunk, are you boy?"
"It's the truth," Tirane cut in. "We could hardly believe it ourselves at first even when seeing it with our own eyes."
Alvor's face grew grave and he continued shaking his head. "And who is this boy? A Stormcloak?!" Alvor asked, gesturing towards his clothes.
"My clothes got torn. Didn't have much of a choice," Tirane answered. "And I'm just a travelling Imperial. Listen. This dragon flew over and just wrecked the whole place. Mass confusion. I don't know if anyone else got out alive." His mind was concentrated on thoughts of Ulfric and Ralof. "I doubt I'd have made it out myself if not for Hadvar."
Alvor's face calmed and he glanced down apologetically. "Is it really true? A dragon?" he asked once again, voice full of wonder and fear.
Hadvar nodded gravely, staring at his uncle with hard eyes.
"Mara's mercy!" Sigrid squealed. "A dragon… in Helgen? Why, it could be here at any moment!"
"Believe me, it would have gotten here by now if that was its intention," Tirane assured her. He gave a slight shiver as he thought about the scaly creature. "And there would be nothing left."
"But it could still be nearby," Hadvar mused. "I need to get back to Solitude and let them know what's happened. But the most important thing is to let the Jarl in Whiterun know first. I'd say this hold is in the most danger for now."
"The Jarl?" Tirane asked, confused.
"Jarl Balgruuf. He rules Whiterun Hold," Alvor explained, softening his tone towards Tirane now he believed their story. "A good man, perhaps a bit over-cautious, but these are dangerous times. So far he's managed to stay out of the war. I'm afraid it can't last, though."
"I'm not sure how this dragon attack will affect the war at this point," Hadvar thought to himself. "But if there're more…"
"Why don't you and I set out in the morning to Whiterun, Hadvar?" Tirane suggested. "I'm heading north, anyway. And I'll need some directions."
Hadvar glanced at Tirane curiously. "Where is it you're heading to? Why did you come to Skyrim?"
Tirane looked down and answered. "The College of Winterhold."
Thanks for reading!
Reviews are always appreciated. ^^