Drachenlied

An Elder Scrolls V Fanfiction by Stephan "Eisen" Wortmann

All Elder Scrolls stuff belongs to Bethesda Game Studios. All references to mods etc. belongs to the respective owners. Any deviations from the canon story and things listed on the wiki are mine!

Road to Recovery

Sunlight filtered in through the ancient trees, bees lazily meandering from flower to flower; a fresh breeze stirred the grass and leaves of the Great Forest as Kynareth caressed the slopes leading from Lake Rumere. All of this seemed to be lost on the figure that was trudging along the road that cut through the forest, its attention focused on something clasped in its hand. The figure continued along the mossy cobbles of the road in this manner for a short while before pocketing whatever it had been studying.

Alexander looked up at the sapphire blue skies; everything seemed so peaceful, all in such stark contrast to what he had experienced just a day ago and what those events would no doubt lead to. The Emperor was dead; the world seemed oblivious to it just yet, but once the news spread no doubt the Empire would be shaken to its foundations. Sure there had been assassinations before, but never a whole bloodline.

The Nord was also still mulling over another matter, that of his existence. He had just woken up in an Imperial prison cell with no memory of anything prior. The very prison cell the Emperor and his guards had fled through to try and elude the assassins. What he found stranger still was how, despite this lack of memory, he had a very good general knowledge of Tamriel. It was as if he had learned everything that was needed to be able to survive and then forgotten the source.

He had followed the Emperor's party and even helped them fight off the cultists that had attacked. The Emperor himself, Uriel Septim, Alexander didn't know how, but he knew that was his name, had eventually given him some talk about destiny, given him a pendant and instructions to find a Jouffrey at this Weynon Priory place.

It had taken him a while to get his bearings after coming out of the sewers that the tunnels from the cell had eventually led to. But he had simply followed the wall of the city until he reached the harbour; there he purchased a map with gold he had found in all kinds of strange places while following the Emperor. He noticed that he did get several odd looks, which he did not bother to pay any heed; he was after all wearing armour he had salvaged from a goblin lair he had come across during a small detour, and it was hardly in the best or cleanest condition.

After rounding another bend in the road, several stone buildings came into view; no doubt this was that Priory the Emperor had mentioned. Alexander once again pulled out the amulet he had been given. It was pure gold and had a large ruby set in the centre, with the most intricate designs he had ever seen; granted he had not seen many, but his intuition told him that it was of craftsmanship that would be found nowhere else on Mundus. It obviously had some magical properties since it wouldn't stay around his neck if he tried to wear it, always slipping off.

Prying his eyes from the item he pocketed it again and headed towards the nearest building; he raised his hand to knock when everything went white.

~o~

Aoife woke with a start. First she noticed that it was cold, drastically different from the comfortable weather she thought she had just been experiencing. Next she noticed that all her bits were back to how she was used to them being. So that was how being a man felt like, and suddenly certain mannerisms made so much more sense. Then she noticed that she was sitting on the ground, almost comfortably had it not been for how hard it was, that she was aching everywhere, and that she was not alone.

Ralof had been looking over the valley that lay before them, admiring how the sun sparkled off the lake at its centre. Surprisingly their ordeal had only lasted a few hours and it was only late morning, with the sun halfway to its zenith. Hearing Aoife rousing herself he turned back to where he had put her just outside a cave entrance. "It may be getting old for me to say this, but it's good to see you awake."

Aoife groaned, clutching her head as she tried to remember what had happened. Ah, yes, the execution and the dragon. After that, events had taken place so quickly; the last thing she remembered was the dungeon and jumping in between the soldier and Ralof. After that, the big forest, mild weather and being a man? Now she was back here in Skyrim, in her own body, and confused.

It had seemed as though the man had had the same problem as her with his memory. Perhaps she could seek him out at some point and find out why she had shared that experience and whether he knew anything about the blank slate that was her past. His name had been Alexander and he was a Nord, not much to go on, but it was better than nothing.

She tried to stand up, but the effort proved too great; her limbs seemed sapped of all of their strength, not to mention the pain. She crashed back down into a seated position. Ralof quickly came to kneel down next to her and dug around in a pack that lay on the ground, pulling out a healing potion and handing it over. "By Talos, I don't know where we'd be by now if you hadn't set us up with those potions like you did. I'd never have thought to think ahead like that."

He watched as she choked down the vile-tasting tonic; it never failed to amaze him how quickly people recovered after imbibing one of them. Aoife tossed the empty vial aside and gingerly tried to stand again. Ralof offered a hand and she gratefully took it as he pulled her up onto her feet. Once she was standing she rolled her neck and shoulders to work out the cricks. She blinked several times, absorbing the breath-taking scenery. "How- how did we get here?"

Ralof was taken back at the sound of her voice; she hadn't spoken since giving her name to Hadvar at Helgen and then he hadn't been close enough then to hear clearly. But it was warm and rich; it carried the same weight as the look her eyes gave. He was so surprised at hearing her for the first time that he almost forgot to answer her question. "Uh, oh yes, you jumped in front of that wizard when he attacked me, and thank you for that. It seems you have a knack for saving my life," he chuckled. "He still managed to get a glancing blow at me though, tossed me right against the wall. Took a while for me to get back up from that…Hilda - the woman that had been under attack - said that you did some great magic and killed him. Nothing was left but a pile of ash, and by the looks of things he did a number on you too." Ralof pointed at Aoife's attire; the leather of her jerkin was scorched black with the chain mail underneath showing through in many places and on that there were numerous places where the links had fused together.

The Breton looked at herself, seeming somewhat shocked at how much damage it had seemed she had sustained. Ralof continued his narrative. "We were too late to save her companion, but continued down the passage where the proper cells were. I had to carry you since whatever you did put you out cold like a bear in hibernation. Hilda took the packs and we found a hole in the wall of the keep's aqueduct to a natural cave that eventually led here. After that she headed back with one of the packs, said she wanted to see if she could meet up with Ulfric and the others."

The Nord looked at Aoife to see what her reaction would be. She seemed to silently absorb what he had said and mull it over. Finally she looked up at him. Ralof only then realised how short she actually was compared to him: quite tall for a Breton, but she was still almost head-and-a-half shorter than him. "Well, Ralof, was it?" He nodded. "I'm Aoife, and I'd give you a backstory, but as far as I know I don't have one. So by all means, since I don't know the lay of the land I'll let you take point."

Ralof looked at her quizzically; what did she mean by not knowing if she has a backstory? But she probably had a point with him leading them; he had after all grown up in this area. "If we hurry we should be able to make it to Riverwood by late noon, my sister Gerdur owns the lumber mill there. She'll give us shelter and something to eat. Then we can decide what to do next."

Aoife nodded and began to check if she was ready to set out. She had lost her sword, no doubt when she had confronted the mage, but hopefully she wouldn't need it again soon. The pouches on the belts she had strapped on earlier still held a few potions, some of the bottles had broken and had to be disposed of but she still had enough to be comfortable with. Ralof picked up the pack and they set off.

The cave had not been far from the road that led from Helgen to Riverwood, but as they were about to step onto it a shadow blacked out the sun. Both Ralof and Aoife stepped back into the cover of a nearby pine. As the dragon that had attacked earlier swooped over them, not close enough to brush the tree-tops, but close enough so that they bent from the wind it caused. It roared, flying into the valley before them and disappearing over the ridge of the opposing mountains.

Seeing the danger had passed, the pair emerged from the pine's shadows, scanning the sky where the beast had disappeared to. Ralof sighed in relief. "We better move before the Imperials come looking for us or that dragon comes back." Aoife merely nodded and they set off down the road towards Riverwood.

While they walked, Ralof mentioned various concerns about their circumstances, their most pressing was to try and avoid any contact with Imperial forces, but hopefully word from Helgen had yet to spread, which would afford them a day or two before the hills would be swarming with legion. The road wound down from the foothills of the Jerall Mountains in which Helgen was situated, until they reached three pillars.

Noting Aoife's curious looks Ralof walked over to them. "These are the Guardian Stones, three of a whole bunch dotted around Skyrim." He pointed at the carvings in the ancient rock. "Each represents a constellation, and may grant you a boon attributed to that star sign. Personally I have always relied on the Warrior." The Nord placed his hand on the stone and a pale beam shot down from the sky, suffusing him before fading. "The other two are the Mage and the Thief." He motioned towards them with one arm. "I believe that the Warrior is the path of glory and honour, but each to their own."

The Breton walked over to the stones, looking at each in turn. Finally she set her hand on the Warrior Stone as well. But unlike with Ralof, nothing happened. She frowned and moved to try the same on the other stones with similar results – none of them reacted to her touch. Ralof was watching all of this with a frown; why did the stones not react to her? Every Nord made the journey to one of the stones on their sixteenth nameday, usually the stone of the star sign they had been born under, and in all his life Ralof had never heard of a stone not react to someone, even to someone that had not been born under that constellation.

"Say, Breton, what sign were you born under?"

Aoife looked at him with a brow raised. "No idea, I have no memory of anything before waking in the carriage…some flashes of places that are probably half a continent away, but anything else is a blank slate." She tapped her temple as if half expecting her head to ring hollowly.

This deepened Ralof's frown. What had the Imperials done with the woman?

Her face cracked into a broad grin. "Come now don't give me that look; I'm half expecting all of your hair to turn grey and fall out. Or maybe some comment about 'the good ol' days' and back pains."

The Nord couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Ah never mind the stones. Perhaps the gods have something more planned out for you than what is written in the stars." He patted her heartily on the shoulder and put an arm around her back, steering them back to the road. "Best we get on the way to Riverwood anyway, before it gets dark."

Suddenly they heard a howl from the forest that hugged the mountain on the other side of the road - wolves. The jovial mood disappeared as Ralof tensed up, eyes scanning the trees nearest them. Aoife put her hand on the place where her sword used to be, forgetting that she had lost it. The move was not lost on Ralof; the woman kept exhibiting signs of a fighter. He handed her the dagger from earlier again and walked over to the side of the road opposite from where the howls had come from. There he used his axe to sever one of the sturdier limbs of a tree that was still growing in between the river and the road, stripping it of smaller branches and foliage before tossing it to Aoife. She caught it and deftly began chipping at one of its ends with the dagger, sharpening it to a point as fast she could.

Another howl sounded, this time far closer; the wolves were closing in on them. They might have just been that unlucky to stumble across a hunting pack, or perhaps it had been the scent of blood on their clothes. But somehow neither of the two companions doubted that the canines were coming for them, and in broad daylight too.

The two humans were at a disadvantage. The direction that the wolves were coming from was uphill from them and the steep slope of the foothills had caused some of the rocks to splinter into what were almost gigantic ledges, allowing the wolves the advantage of attacking from the high ground. The pair would have to be prepared for enemies jumping at their heads from the man-and-a-half high ledges.

As the noises of Aoife's chipping died away and they both settled into a position of readiness where they could cover each other's backs, it became apparent that there was now an oppressive silence reigning over the area; even the nearby river seemed to be somewhat muted, the rustling of the leaves having died away and any other noise seemingly magnified: the rustling of a rabbit in the undergrowth, the buzzing of dragonflies, the call of an eagle. The two humans' eyes darted to try and verify the source of each new noise, attempting to anticipate the location of their stalkers.

Aoife felt a rivulet of cold sweat run down her collar; her eyes darted from tree to tree, bush to bush on the opposing side of the road. She glanced at Ralof to see that he was also scanning the treeline, she was about to do the same when she saw his eyes widen. She quickly turned to look at what had elicited this reaction, and just in time too. From the ledge, a large dark shape hurled itself at Aoife; she turned her makeshift spear in its direction, bracing the other end against the ground. The beast was unable to halt its momentum in mid-air and impaled itself upon the spike, whimpering as it weakly struggled.

Another wolf pounced from the undergrowth as soon as the first one attacked. This one headed towards Ralof, who stepped to the side so that it landed between him and his companion instead of goring him in the chest as it would have had he not moved. Before it could recover, he swung down his axe, lodging it in the nape of its neck.

While the two other wolves pounced, another had circled around as the two humans were occupied. As soon as Aoife abandoned the now wolf-laden spear it pounced at her. She grabbed the powerful creature by the throat as it tried to rend her with its teeth. Ralof cursed, abandoning his axe still stuck in the other wolf as he grabbed the one on top of Aoife by the scruff and tried to get it off her.

The Breton was pushing at it with all her might, wishing she could get a hand free to grab the dagger in her belt, but it was all she could do to keep its teeth away from her as it was. Her muscles were slowly starting to feel heavy under all the strain, as the acid built up from all the constant exertion. Funny, she thought; after surviving an execution, an army and a dragon, her demise would come at the teeth of a beast.

Ralof was amazed at the size of this animal they were struggling with. Never had he seen a wolf of its size or strength, and to top it off he could swear that he heard more growling from the trees over the beast's shoulder. Aoife was struggling valiantly, but the wolf's claws were ripping into her arms and he could see she was growing tired.

Suddenly the wolf's struggling became panicked instead of frenzied and the scent of burning hair reached Ralof's nose. It stopped trying to maul Aoife and instead tried to get away from her. Ralof let go of the woman to see that her palms were wreathed in flames; he also stepped back. Aoife pushed herself from the floor and looked at her hands. The wolf that had attacked her was now circling them warily and another two slinked out of the undergrowth to join it, gleaming yellow eyes tracking the humans before them.

Aoife looked up at the beasts, and feeling that this would be their last opportunity to fight them off without bloodshed on their part, she levelled her palms at the one that had attacked her. She then summoned the feeling that had bloomed in her the moment the wolf had started struggling to get away from her; the flames wreathing her hands gathered in her palms, and then, feeling it was the right thing to do, she tensed her hands.

Fire flowed from her hands to the wolves, setting the fur of the one that had attacked them alight and burning it as the flames poured onto it. She directed the fire at the other wolves too; they yelped, running back into the treeline before the flames reached them, fleeing the pair that had ended up being the hunters, instead of hunted.

~o~

Aoife was looking at her hands, deep in thought, as Ralof used their knife to skin the two wolves that they had killed first. It was not the best knife for the job; skinning went best with a razor-sharp blade, but one never knew when a set of furs would come in handy in Skyrim; it was said that before the Empire and its coin, pelts had been the most common currency. He looked up occasionally at the Breton; so she was a mage after all, not unusual for one of her people he supposed, but Skyrim's current outlook on mages was somewhat on the negative side after the Oblivion Crisis and the collapse of Winterhold. Ralof himself didn't hold a strong prejudice against magic wielders, but there was no doubt something eerie about them that made it difficult to associate at times.

Once he had finished skinning, disposed of the carcasses and cleaned the furs, knife and his hands in the river, they got ready to set out again. Aoife had the foresight to cut down another bough, but this time didn't sharpen it so it could be used as a wandering staff, which would still be serviceable as a makeshift weapon should the need arise.

They continued down the road as it followed the river. The midday sun took away the chill of the breeze and reflected off the drifts on the mountaintops spectacularly. The scent of loam and pine was heavy in the air, even as the breeze thinned it. All in all, the road was ideally set for a journey, and absorbing the scenery made the trek seem to pass that much faster. Before long they rounded a bend in the path and before them, in the distance, lay a wall that arched over the road. Behind it the tips of thatched roofs could be seen.

Ralof grinned broadly as he laid his eyes upon his hometown, Riverwood. Hopefully the coming evening would be a more pleasant one than what they had experienced so far. As the two survivors headed towards the village, they did not notice that far behind them, three pale beams shot into the sky.