4 YEARS LATER.
I drifted into consciousness. The world was a blur, like that time when alcohol took me into Oblivion, but I haven't had a drop. And by the feeling of my mouth, I had been unconscious for several hours. Maybe even a day, I thought for a second that I had been asleep, yet I don't feel rested. But by the pressing ache of my temple, I know that my lack of being awake was not by choice. The coldness of the air is more apparent, stealing the warmth I thought I had. Alright, I'm up north. I take note of this as I blink a few times, clearing my vision. I scan for new signs of danger. I was sitting in a wagon with three other prisoners down a snowy mountain pass. All are seated and bound; the one on my far right dressed in finery, is gagged. I look at the state of clothes and my stomach clenches. But where I wore armor last, I was awake, now I was wearing rough spun rags that scratched my skin. My weapons nowhere to be seen. I tried to move my hands to feel around myself but the bite of binds stop me. Glancing at my wrists, I see the binds digging into my skin. Where. Were. My. Weapons?! I lift both hands to my neck and my fingers feel the most valuable thing I owned. My necklace. It was gone. White knuckles from clenching my fist too hard, and gritted teeth from effort to remain silent, my eyes slowly scanned around. Until they fall on the last guard dressed in red that brings of the rear of our group. Leaning back, I can see my travel pack on the back of his horse, the weapons hilts, sticking out of his bags. As my eyes open my limbs flex in shock. My muscles felt weak, just like my energy. I let out an exasperated sigh. But how did I become unconscious? It wasn't until my gaze flew to my left to see a woman, twirling my necklace around her finger, the stone calling out to me somehow.
Then it all comes back to me.
THREE DAYS PRIOR...
As being a daughter of High Court, I was asked to sit in on a few meetings with a few members of the Embassy, to see if I had any talents like my mother had. And while I was young, and learning all I could, I agreed. Over the years I had been working hard at attaining Embassy polish, but the more I learn about what really goes on behind the pretty voices and graceful bows, the more I comprehended that what is really said matters little, so long as the manner in which it is said, pleases the few in higher power. I understood it, but I didn't like it. Still don't. And throughout the years, I had tried to fix their corruption. I had gained a high skill wielding my two handed and single-handed weapons, my archery still not so good, but I could at least fire now and in speech craft, but my sharp tongue would often rub certain Altmer the wrong way. And I had spoken out of turn to a visiting Dark Elf noble, to which he tried to strip me down in the middle of the streets and whip my back till my skin peeled from bone. In turn, I removed him of a few fingers from the hand he had grabbed me with and kicked the side of his knee, popping the bone out of place, making him fall to one knee, crying out in pain.
"You may be a highborn noble from where you are from, but here, you are no Laird or Sire of mine. You cannot grab to take what doesn't belong to you. Maybe the next time you reach for something, be sure that it is within your right to do so." And so, I was called into a council meeting with all of the town's people, and my family to watch. Even at a young age, I learned that the games the Embassy played aren't fair. They don't judge men by their worth, and they aren't about what's just. Guilty men can hold power their whole lives and be wept for when they pass. And it was because their shady contributions aided those in higher power. And yet, innocent men can be spent like coins because it was convenient. Uncle Kalomon told me once that 'If your destruction is useful to them, you'll be destroyed slower". And when I got a whipping for every slanderous word, every night held in jail, even when the words I simply spoke, caused a stir with the nobles, he would look at me, and with a shake of his head, he would tell me, 'You are just like your mother'.
And at the end of each trial, he would look proud when I wouldn't flinch or concede defeat. And at the end of every day, he was proud, and that's all that mattered to me. But that day had been different. With me standing in the middle of a polished stone room, with elves all around me, my family onlooking as I stood, hands clasped in front of me, feigning attention to them I heard a whisper of a voice. A voice spoken in my ears alone simply said,
'Show no fear.'
I look about at the faces, wondering who spoke, but not one seemed to encourage me, other than my family, but they were too far away, and the voice was so close. Puzzled, and pushing it out of my mind, I focus back on the council. I notice how the tightness of their jaws and shoulders are reflected in one another. My own gut had become tight in apprehension. They called for silence and after a few minutes of explaining the situation and charges of my crimes, The Head Thalmor of the Embassy looked at me with a sort of grim satisfaction. I simply raise my chin an inch higher.
"Serlina, you have heard the charges. How do you plead? Before you answer, you should know that if you plead "guilty" you'll be immediately extradited and the Dark Elves law will take over." I nearly roll my eyes. 'Well when you put it that way' I thought to myself as I nod at their statement.
"Not guilty." I state.
"It's not very nice to lie in our court." I was spoken to with a sneer from one of the slender females of the court.
"But it beats the extradition. And I am not a liar." I stated before the court, my eyes held the head of the Embassy like one does a snake. "I was well within my lawful rights."
"Our people must not take law in their own hands." They return. "The Embassy has given the law to the hands of people who are in power. And with that, only they have the right to deliver the justified cause of action. Are you a person of power within the people?" They asked.
"I should certainly hope not. The people who are in power are always arrogantly corrupting our people's way of life with violent, aggressive, selfish schemes and don't care about anyone that they deem less than themselves." The court unraveled at my words, though they did not yell, and let me speak my piece, many of the court were grinding their teeth, their fingers twitching to no doubt, cast any painful destructive spell they wished upon me. But this room, with their rules and laws, was unbending in the fact that, while inside, no harm would come to anyone. They were sharper with words, not fists.
"So, you designated yourself as an enforcer of our laws." It sounded more like a statement than a question. They emphasized on the 'our' and 'your'. Like there was a significant difference.
"I like to think of myself as more as an interpreter of them Councilmen." I could hear a small snicker from my left, my aunt no doubt.
"To exist as an interpreter of the law, you first have to follow that law yourself. Law is the glue that holds our society together. It's flawed, but absolute, and corruption only hinders its progress." I frown at their lecturing tone.
"I am not corrupting it." I stated. Until a man on the far right sat forward and with a bitter scowl, said the words that I have heard more frequently over the years.
"Your very EXISTANCE Is both flawed and corrupting our pure ways of life!" And just like that, my back straightened a touch more.
"What does my being have anything to do with this case?" I returned with some emphasis of my own. And I desperately tried to hide how vengeful I was feeling. This was unsuspected. I could control the tremor in my voice to a degree. I could consciously will my body movements to be less stilted. However, my thoughts clouded with ways to break this man. Stabbing him in the back of his neck with his long-feathered quill would be a pleasant start.
"You are not a pure blooded Thalmor! You only have half of our pure blood flowing through your veins! The rest is native savage mud! So, OUR laws, are not completely yours to interpret or enforce! And not only that, you went without Embassy approval to cross from our borders, into Cyrodill, where you attacked a Highborn Dark Elf! Our laws are not something for you to pick and choose what you can and cannot be accounted for, when you feel like it!" Whispers are all around me, I look at my aunt and uncle and see that their faces are of mixed emotions. Panic, anger and a touch of fear. Looking back at the council, I look at the oldest man, rubbing his hands together, his white lips pulled tight over his broken teeth. Leaning forward he opened his crooked mouth to speak, his voice, high and fearful. "Your plead is denied." The man sits back and an elegant she-elf stands up.
"When you were brought to our lands Serlina and stood before us, you asked for judgment. And we pass it now." I brace and hold my breath. "EXILE!" The roar of voices around me block out my own ragged breathing. "Gather your belongings, speak to no one, anyone who speaks to you shall have the same fate, or be hanged on sunrise. You have until nightfall. Dismissed!" Looking outside, I saw I had only 3 hours to get out of town, let alone out of Morrowind. I wouldn't make it if I took too long.
I had stood stock still for just a moment. I turn to my family, and I see my aunt, weeping on my uncle's chest. Our eyes meet, and as the council demanded, no words could be spoken or written, or they would be dead before a new day's dawn. But since they stay until everyone leaves the council room, they can watch our last interaction, and there are witnesses here still. We would also have a guard walk us to our home, ensuring no words were spoken. This was it. I swallow, and walk to the last of my family. Reaching their sides, with no spoken words, I hold each of their hands in a tight but silent thanks and farewell. I am hugged tightly and given a small purse of coin. As we walk, rather quickly to my uncle's home, I take in one last long look of Morrowind.
The tall homes, the mushrooms that grow wildly. The streams and natural paths. I pack everything I can carry, without straining myself. My weapons fitted against my body, and a map pushed into my hands, and far too soon, we are at the edge of the city. I step in and out of hugs, and I try to charade to them that I will write them when I was safe. They look on for a second, slightly confused, and then they nod in understanding, making me feel relieved. As I kiss them both goodbye, I feel my uncle put something in my pocket, giving me a warning glance to not open it here and with a nod, I take off in a dead sprint. When the city is nearly out of sight, I stand on a hilltop and look below. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the small scrap of paper, and read the hastily scribbled note. Once, twice. With a soft laugh, I understand what he wrote. Keeping the paper in my right hand, I channel a flame spell and burn it to cinders. The words he had written were simple.
'TIME FOR THE SUN TO RISE.'
And the first time in years, I crossed my arms, bow and straighten again.
"By your word, and my will." I state, and continued forward.
I had nearly made it. Finding a rock that could block the colder winds, I hunkered down to rest as night closed in on me on my second day of traveling. Dropping my bag, and unlatching my great sword from my back I rest it against the rock beside me. Pulling my map out, I bite into a wedge of cheese and retrace my steps, my fingers moving over the paper and if I was correct by my travels, I was sitting on the border. Just a few more clicks and I will be in Skyrim. Feeling confident that I was safe and alone, I had closed my eyes, arms crossed, to keep warm though I lacked a fire. I may have slept for minutes, at best. It wasn't until I hear a large group let out a war cry, jolting me awake, reaching for my swords.
They came out from overhead, dropping down just in front of me, armed with swords drawn. One group would attack with a mix of magic and weapons, while others moved steadily forward. The ones in, I think was a red garb, took a heavy toll of their open movements. Why would they attack in such an open field? When a group of people in blue cloth, and chainmail had been clamoring around, cursing and yelling about 'Skyrim is for the Nords' or some nonsense, I felt the strength in the words. I could engage in the battle, in fact, I could do it right now, but what was the point? It wasn't mine to fight. And by their opposing aggressions, I knew this was more than a quarrel between families. The scale was much larger. This, looked like a sample of war.
'RUN'. The whispering voice was back. And I agreed with it.
No time to sleep. I grabbed my bag and weapons and make a break for it, leaving the battle, or as much of it as I could, to my left. With the darkened sky, their figures are silhouetted in the dense forest. I wish I could see their faces, their expression would give their intentions away, but it's too dark. And I could already hear the pained cries and the smell of blood was making me nervous. Weaving in and out fighting pairs, I keep my distance. Until I hear someone call out 'one of them is trying to escape.' I glance backwards and see 3 men chasing me. I knew I had to keep going. Branches constantly attacked me, leaves crunched under my feet and big, brown logs seemed to appear out of nowhere as if to try and stop me.
And I didn't see it. I had been told about magic runes, but I had never seen one in use, let alone, the result of triggering one. Aside from a slight glow on the earth, I didn't hear anything till it was too late and my foot stepped over the rune. An instant later, there was a blinding flash, like lightning, and a huge ball of fire burst and I was blown backwards, my body sailing up in the air, and crashing down with a loud thud, the wind getting knocked out of me. I heard the hoarse call of people, the rushing of armored boots, and as I try to reach for my weapon, I feel a foot stomp down on my wrist, the brittle metal of the boot scraping my arm. Looking up I see a small shine of a helmet. And a blade close to my throat.
'Shit.' I mutter. I hear a scoff and the sound of a flame spell ignites, casting light around me. I had been right, their armor was like that of Cyrodil, red and steel. Shit.
"Look what we have here." The man who held the sword spoke to the woman who held the flame in her hand. I move nothing but my eyes, my mind racing while every muscle stays rock still.
"Looks like an elf." Said another soldier. I watched a pair of soldiers striding in unison towards me like a snake, their armor clanking as they walked. "What is your name?" The sword wieldier asked. I stayed silent. "TELL ME." He repeated sternly.
"Hm. She's not in the Stormcloaks armor."
"What the hell is a Stormcloak?!" I bark. In the distance I can hear a voice from far away call out, 'The enemy has been captured!'
"She's an outsider." My mind turned fully back to the situation before me. The woman who had spoken said it with a sneer.
"Your damn right I'm an outsider. Get off of me!" I yell and try to pull my arm out from under this jerk's boot. If father or uncle could see me now, I mentally shudder at the punishment I would have received. The women's eyes slid to my sword that lay a few inches out of reach. Her eyes lingered far too long, making me grit my teeth. "Don't even think about touching them."
The woman observes me with the gaze of a stranger, that aloof judgement with no strings. Yet, I am relieved to see that she doesn't move to pick it up.
"She looks like an Altmer. Could she be a spy for the rebels"?
"I'll be the judge of that." The man from the back walked in front of me with a ranging stride, even and quick paced. The armor, like the others, still held the red cloth, but what caught my attention was that it was... shiny. Clean. There were still cuts, scrapes and dents from when it was used, but not as much as the rest of the group around him. It was polished, like it usually was kept in a glass case, so it wouldn't rust or be tarnished. To be shown like an ornament. With one long stare, his eyes roamed from the top of my head, the toes of by shoes. "I assume you have your reasons. Everyone does. Unfortunately, you are now a problem of mine, since you are on the same battlefield as the rebels.""
"I'm no spy for any rebel!" I tried to explain.
"I bet you aren't. And yet, you made a break for the border. You ran." He stated.
"I didn't exactly plan it. I was simply here when- I haven't even harmed anyone. I was leaving the battle! And I am no-one's problem. Now release me."
"I will give the command when I feel sure you won't harm any of my men. And my men are speculating that you're an Altmer spy, and yet, looking at you I'm not even sure you're a full elf. You didn't use any magic. You had several opportunities." He frowned as he spoke, ignoring my words. "Why didn't you?" He asked.
"I like to keep all my options open. And I don't need magic to take down your group. I could have. But I didn't." His eyes narrowed.
"I was told you flopped like a fish over one of our magic runes. Not efficient at magic if you can't see it when it was right in front of you."
"This coming from, what I'm going to guess, is a lowkey commander who spends more time polishing his suit than fighting in it. See you got a few new scuffs" I tsked. "You gotta buff those out." His back straightened.
"There is no shame in taking pride in your appearance." His eyes roll over me again. "A concept I see you are unfamiliar with." I nearly laugh in his face.
"I've just been running in a forest, avoiding a battle, and got my ass blasted into the air by sneaky magic runes. You know my reasons, so what's your excuse? As for your uniform, I can tell your more afraid of staining it then giving your life to a cause, which is?" I inquire.
"To keep order, the provinces are falling into barbarism and lawlessness. Especially Skyrim."
"Sounds rustic and charming. But it is not a problem to you. I can tell, you're from Cyrodill. This isn't your battle to fight."
"I may have been born in Cyrodill but Skyrim needs us to maintain order. And with the Empire, we can maintain it. The battle will be long but battles are won by trained and disciplined men. And when the real war starts, that cause is worth participating in a war." It sounded... rehearsed. He was in it for a war title, not the cause.
"Wars are won by talented and exceptional individuals. I'm guessing that excludes you." I watch his eyes widen in anger and slowly he points a finger in my face.
"Watch yourself. I don't fight for the glory of the Empire, nor do I glory in the death of my kinsmen. I fight to bring peace and order to my homeland."
"But this isn't your homeland!" His mouth set into a stern line.
Looking at the commander, I see that his eyes were narrowed, rigid, cold, hard. In that moment I knew that once more I was the enemy. But it was more than that. There was a tenseness he wasn't even trying to mask, a hateful distain. The unmoving gaze was accompanied by deliberate slow breathing, like he was fighting something back and loosing. He saw my hand, still outreached for my sword, and took a step towards it.
"Weapons do not belong in the hands of women," he sneered. Then he stepped over me, the soldier moving the blade away so he could lean closer, nearly bringing him face to face with me. "It's just pathetic seeing them try to swing heavy things." And, just like that, I think of all the training I had with my brother and his large battle-axe. And my blood cooled.
"Your right. Women are dainty little things who can't hold anything bigger than a butter knife. It's a good thing that I am a warrior instead."
With my left foot, I lifted my leg and kicked my foot out, connecting his chest, making him stumble backwards breathing in the air in harsh gasps. I pull my arm free and I scrambled to stand, until I am grabbed and held by my arms and shoulders by several soldiers holding me still. The commander stands, dusting off his armor, his eyes burning into me.
"Sorry your highness, little dirt tarnish your... pristine suit of armor?" His hand cracks across my face, snapping it back with the force of his blow and causing my head to reel. It doesn't really hurt, it's just sharp. I feel my hands get pulled in front of me and rope gets tied around them.
"Load her up with the others." At his command I'm all but dragged to where they are loading up the captured rebels. One guard stand in the cart, helping load the prisoners, some who are bound, some who are lightly wounded, and some, who are unconscious. A gentle shove moves me forward a pace and as I turn my head to glare at the Imperial, I see a rebel, accompanied by two empire guards as he stands over a body of his comrades. I can see tears run down his face and he does not try to hide, he does not look away, he does not bury his face. He is proud to shed these tears for those who passed on in the battle, those who did not make it home to parents, spouses and children. They departed the earth too soon and he would stand with fierce pride in memory of their lives as well as their untimely deaths. He would stand as if to say 'You are remembered, my friends.'
"I may not be a kinsman of these so-called rebels" I state as I step up to the cart as a blond-haired man gets in. "But I know humanity and care for one's countryman. And from what I've seen from the Empire, you don't have the same dedication for the dead as they do. And you may call them barbarian, but they still, remember honor."
"Shut your mouth elf, and hand over your belongings." The woman demanded. I looked at her dully.
"I don't think I will. They stay with me and only me." I was stern, ready to thrash out in any way possible.
"I wasn't asking." She drew her sword. "Remove. Your. Belongings." I stood there in silent defiance. "Fine." She keeps her sword trained on me and without taking her eyes off me, I watch as she raises her weapon but the hit to my head come from above me with the butt of a blade hilt. Unsteadily, my vision blurred, and soon, I was met with darkened silence.
My mind returns to the situation at hand when the blond-haired man spoke.
"Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right?" I give a small nod. "Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."
"Damn you Stormcloaks." The man who sat next to him spoke. I guess this was the thief. "Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." He turned to look at me directly. "You there... You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." The blond says it so a matter of fact like. Well, I suppose he wasn't wrong.
"I seem to be unwelcomed anywhere I go." I speak softly, mostly to myself. Looking back at the blond man, I size him up. "I recognize you from the night of your ambush." He nods and tilts his head into a half nod.
"My name is Ralof." He admits and before he gets a chance to perhaps ask me mine, he's cut off by the soldier who is driving the wagon.
"Shut up back there!" He sounds annoyed and I roll my eyes, making Ralof smile. I see the thief look at the gagged man and asks,
"And what's wrong with him, huh?"
"Watch your tongue." Ralof snaps. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King." The thief pales considerably as he looks at the High King.
"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you..." His eyes widen, making me frown. He looked like he was going to be sick. "Oh gods, where are they taking us?" I raise an eyebrow at him. I'm not the smartest person, but I would be willing to bet that at the end of this ride, it wouldn't be pleasant.
Ralof looked grim. "I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits." Sovngarde. I had heard about it while passing through Cyrodill. Sovngarde is the Nordic afterlife. It is said that those who are valiant in life are rewarded with an eternity there in the Hall of Valor, where they eat, drink, brawl, and sing. Kothringi believed in the Vast Planes, it was similar. I hoped that my father and mother were reunited on any ethereal plane, together. But the thought of my father being granted entry to somewhere as something as grand as the House of Valor, listening to my mother as she sings as he drinks himself silly, the thought makes me smile. I could only hope. And if I hoped a little harder, that at the end, I would see them. The thought makes me have a sense of peace with the thought of death.
"No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening." I look at the thief and sigh in reservation. Death makes everyone act differently. Where I took the idea with a sliver of hope to see my parents and friends, he fought it with panic.
Ralof looked at me and I shrugged, my thoughts unhelpful in this situation. I had made a peace with the idea. Then he turns back to the man who is beginning to shake. "Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?"
The man turns a sneer at Ralof. "Why do you care?"
Ralof shrugged and with a soothing voice, says; "A Nord's last thoughts, should be of home." Though I was not a Nord, I let my mind and heart fill with thoughts of home... Both of Black Marsh, and of Morrowind. I could almost smell the waters from Black Marsh, the wide-open skies, as stars danced above us. I could hear mother humming as she cooked for me and Daodrik. I see my father fastening my brothers' gauntlets. I see mother studying in the sun by the stream near our home. I can feel the crisp winds from Morrowind. See my uncle smile as I advance another level in my training. Learning magic from other elves, learning more about magic from children, helping people and feeling my mother's presence in the acts... But they weren't my home anymore. Yet, they were all I had known.
"Rorikstead. I'm... I'm from Rorikstead." The eyes wide with horror, the mouth rigid and open, his chalky face gaunt and immobile, the fists clenched with blanched knuckles and the nails digging deeply into the palms of his hand.
"General Tullius, sir!" I turn my head at the soldier's voice again. "The headsman is waiting!"
The man who stood on the railing responded. "Good. Let's get this over with." He's almost smiling - smiling as if something good were about to happen. Good for him is likely bad for me. Very bad.
"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me." The gates creaked open and the wagon rolled into the fort. Fear and dread coursed through me as I saw all the soldiers, swarming like ants, dressed in the familiar blood-red armor. They reminded me of strutting roosters.
Ralof's eyes are following the General. "Look at him, General Tullius, the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him." Thalmor?! Damn it all to Oblivion! If they see me, they could send word back to the Embassy! I see a few in their mage robes as they walk alongside the General. What were they doing here? What purpose could they have? "Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this." My hands, though bound clenched at his sneer. Half of me wanted to grab hold of his blond locks and shake some sense into him that not every Thalmor is a high-born prick that spends their waking days laughing in some dark room plotting demises of countries. But instead, I kept my mouth shut. Maybe he didn't see me as A Thalmor, that's why he said it without thinking. Or directly at me. But hey, maybe I was just being optimistic. "This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe." His voice sounded lost in thought. Like he was speaking to me, or maybe no one in particular. They paraded us around as we rode into the small town. Craning my neck, I see a father and son talking on their porch.
"Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?"
"You need to go inside, little cub."
"Why? I want to watch the soldiers."
"Inside the house. Now."
"Yes, papa."
Turning we hear our driver say a gentle, "Whoa!" And the carriage comes to a slow stop.
"Get these prisoners out of the carts. Move it!" My blood cools as I recognize that voice. The bitch who told me to hand over my things. The one who was twirling my necklace from her finger like a damn toy hoop. I swear, if given the chance, she will die by my hands, slowly, if I could manage it.
"Why are we stopping?" The thief looked all around and then back to me and Ralof, like we had all the answers. Ralof, with a steady gaze to the crowd that was already gathered answered.
"Why do you think? End of the line. Let's go." He climbs out of the wagon with his head held high. "Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us." Or our lost families.
"No! Wait! We're not rebels!" The thief calls out, even as he's half jumping off and being pulled down from the wagon.
"Face your death with some courage, thief." Ralof now held a reserved strength about him. I liked that about him.
"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" The man was panicking. And there was nothing we could do or say to calm him. It was pointless when you could see the headsman sharpening his axe just a few yards from us.
"Don't speak for me. Worry about yourself. I've made my peace." I say to him, but I think the panic had taken hold to hard and he did not hear me.
"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time." The captain spoke harshly, making me eager to find a blade.
Ralof scoffed. "Empire loves their damn lists." I smirk at his jab at them. The man who held the board with the lists began calling them out.
"Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm." The man steps forward, his size nearly doubled from when he was sitting. Gods, he was a large man.
"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!" Ralof calls out and murmurs in agreement rang out amongst the group. Rebellion or not, the man had the belief of his people.
"Ralof of Riverwood." He steps forward, I nod as he passes and he takes his place amongst the crowd. "Lokir of Rorikstead."
"No, I'm not a rebel. You can't do this!" I turn my head at his outburst. His name was Lokir. I nearly gasp as he breaks out into a dead run, toward the gates from which we had entered. I too want to run. But this time, I stand my ground. I'm tired of running.
"Halt!"
"You're not going to kill me!" Lokir called out as he ran past several guards. I wanted to call out and encourage him. Let him run! Let him live! Turning up the stone path I hear the captain call out;
"Archers!" I look from Lokir, then to her as she called out the command, and look back to the archers. I watch as they draw arrows and take aim. My heart thuds in my chest and then drops when they let their arrows free. Lokir is shot and falls dead before he gets too far. The Imperial Captain turns her attention back to the other prisoners. The coldness of it all sickened me. No questions. No last rites. Just... Disregard of the dead, in the middle of the street. No one even moved to remove his body from the street.
Captain looks throughout the crowd and asks; "Anyone else feel like running?" I feel her gaze land on me and I glare at her. Until the man who is calling names addresses me.
"Wait. You there. Step forward." With my head held high, I take 3 steps forward, standing before him. "Who are you?" He asks, confused.
"My name is Serlina, I come from Bla-Morrowind." I stumbled a bit on where I was from.
"You're not with the Thalmor Embassy, are you, high elf? No, that can't be right..." He paused a second then continued. "You don't look like a full blooded Thalmor." He said it like he sounded both curious and... Disgusted. But I had to give him credit. Not many people see the other side of me. That, or they don't seem to choose too. Before I could speak or explain to him, he turned his head and spoke to the Imperial beside him. "Captain. What should we do? She's not on the list." My gaze slides back to the woman and my blood sets to a boil. Now that I was closer, I see it. There, around her neck, was my mother's necklace. I could almost feel something reaching out to me from it.
Captain gives me a stern look of false authority, then she looks at the name caller and commands; "Forget the list. She goes to the block."
"By your orders, Captain. Follow the Captain, prisoner." The news passed through me like a bitter wind. Annihilated with the stroke of a pen and the slice of an axe. "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Morrowind." As I numbingly walk to join the group, I see the General speaking to Ulfric.
"Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like The Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." What? The Voice? My confusion lasts a mere moment. Ulfric glares and because of his binds and gags, can only let out a garbled grunt. But the venom in his sight, makes me believe that HAD he been able to speak, the General wouldn't be standing so tall. "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace."
A distant noise rings down the mountainside, piercing the winter morning like faint rolling thunder. My skin prickles and a feeling builds in my stomach that makes me unsettled. That distant... roar... It echoed through the sky making the origin hard to pin-point. A tingling in my spine warned me that something was coming. And it made my palms sweat.
"What was that?" Someone asked. I was keeping my eyes on the sky.
Tullius waved a hand. "It's nothing. Carry on."
Captain nodded. "Yes, General Tullius. Give them their last rites." A woman in dark robes walked forward and raised her arms.
"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved..."
One of the prisoners from the lead wagon walks forward.
"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with." There he was! The man accompanied by guards who wept over his fallen comrades!
"As you wish." The Priestess spoke evenly, even as he stalked to the chopping bloke.
"Come on, I haven't got all morning." He knelt and set his head in the groove of the block. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" With those last defiant words to Tullius, the Imperial Captain, and the Legionnaires, the man is beheaded by the executioner. My eyes had closed as the blade connected with his neck. I take a second and re-open them to see the Imperial Captain shove his lifeless body off to the side of the chopping block. My stomach turns.
"You Imperial bastards!" I look to my left and see a woman, tears in her eyes as she fights against her restraints. All around me are voices calling out different things.
"Justice!"
"Silence!"
"Death to the Stormcloaks!" I lose focus as I hear Ralof speak aloud beside me.
"As fearless in death, as he was in life." His head bows in respect and it's in that moment that I can see the difference in sides.
Death is death. But how it is respected or regarded changes how you are seen as a person. Father taught me that. He ensured that, even the dead of his enemies, were regarded in respect. He even helped the families of both sides claim their dead. He told me that, "If the roles were reversed my child, I would hope that the enemy would give you the decency for caring of the loss. It's not just our enemy we have slain. They will be someone's father, mother, brother, sister, wife or husband. When you slay one, you kill a piece of their family. Death affects us all. And we respect those who are gone. And those who will come to mourn." His words ring in my head as another man gets his head cut from his body. They toss him aside. My blood cools like ice.
"Next, the high elf! The Captain calls, making my spine stand straight.
Another cry rings out on the mountainside, this time much closer. I froze, straining to listen against the ceaseless wind and clamoring voices. Again, my eyes are skyward, looking around for the source. If I focused, I could feel... Something.. Like.. A foreboding.
"There it is again. Did you hear that?" I hear someone speak, but my eyes stay on the clouds. Something was coming. And I felt drawn to it.
"I said, next prisoner!" My eyes lock back on that scratchy women's voice.
"To the block, prisoner." Tearing my gaze from the Captain, I look at the man who is calling names. "Nice and easy." He warns me.
My mind told me not to move, but my body dragged itself to the block. I walk forward with my head held high, even taking a sideways glance at the Captain, then the necklace she now wears.
"I'll be taking that back; I'll have you know." I state and with a smug sneer from the Captain, I am kneeling at the chopping block. I don't need eyes in the back of my head to know that she is the one using her foot to push me forward to lay my head on the wet block, below me is a basket of severed heads. The smell of blood makes my stomach flip, turning my head, I rest my right cheek toward the towers of the village. I see the shine of the headsman's axe as he raises it, the metal shining in the sun. I close my eyes and hold my breath, my family set in my mind. I wait. Until I hear a loud roar.
"What in Oblivion is that?!" The General yelled in question.
"Sentries! What do you see?" The Captain asked, her voice failing to hide the fear.
"It's in the clouds!" I don't know who said it, but right after, I hear the sound of weapons being drawn.
The ground shook up and down, as if something big fell from the sky and struck the earth with mighty impact. At first, I couldn't figure out what the noise was, it was too loud, opening my eyes in shock, and my brain stutters for a moment and my eyes take in more than I expected, every part of me goes on pause while my thoughts catch up. Even as someone yelled out one word, that changed everything.
"Dragon!"
The look of it was that of a predator. It was black as night. His frontal eyes, no doubt better than any hawk, followed me, bulging as if the hatred behind them was about to burst forth, its teeth sharper than sharpened swords, claws able to lacerate even the sturdiest to mere ribbons of flesh and bone. Towering above me atop the tower, it was as tall and size of a decently sized inn.
The sky became dark and low with ominous black clouds and the wind picked up, howling, crying, warning. The first crack of lightening cracked through the air and within seconds the rolling boom of the thunder reverberated overhead. Soon the sky opened, slow to start, the thick blackened clouds were spitting down large balls of flame and rock. Splattering the ground around us haphazardly.
Then air was ripped with a roar that was so piercing I see the headsman being thrown away, and landing with a sickening crunch.
"Fus... Ro... Dah!" I was no longer in contact with the ground but instead spinning away from the block, my eyes watering from the sound, blurring my vision. My hands clamped over my ears...not that it made any difference, to protect them from the sound. It rattled my skull, making my teeth clench.
Tullius is shouting commands at his men. "Don't just stand there! Kill that thing! Guards, get the townspeople to safety!"
"Hey, High elf. Get up!" I blink and clear my vision I lift myself out of the dirt to see Ralof standing a few feet from me. My muscles screamed with the effort of getting back on my feet. "Come on, the gods won't give us another chance!" I blink, shake my head and my vision clears. As I stand, and make my way over to Ralof as he makes a run for the tower, I hear many voices all around me.
"Keep your eyes on it!"
"How in Oblivion do we kill this thing?"
"It's still coming!"
"Keep your eyes on it!"
"By Ysmir! Nothing kills it!"
"Die! For the love of the gods, die!"
Ralof closes the door behind me and looks at Ulfric.
"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?" I frown in confusion. Legends? Of dragons?
Ulfric looks out the window as the dragon continues its rampage. I hear its roaring outside as it swoops and grabs a soldier. "Legends don't burn down villages." His voice was deep, sullen. Strong. I look and see one of the rebels tending to a few of their own.
"Are they alright?" I ask.
"They're hurt, but they'll live. Another second out there with the dragon, and they'd both be dead..."
Ulfric looks back to his men, and with a voice of a commanders voice commands; "We need to move. Now!"
Ralof looks at me and then points to the winding stairs. "Up through the tower, let's go!"
We both ascended the stairs, I took some two at a time, until we came across another rebel, who was blocked by a few broken beams.
"We just need to move some of these rocks to clear the way!" I felt the skin on the back of my neck tingle, making me alert, I paused in my ascent and when my steps stop, the dragon breaks in through the wall, blasting fire everywhere.
"Yol...Toor...Shul!" Did he- did he just speak? The power of the voice was hard to detect a dialect, the language is unfamiliar to me. He must have spoken earlier as well.
Ralof stands on the edge of the damaged hold of the tower. "See the inn on the other side?" I give a stiff nod. The wood was burning. Smoke billowing all around us. "Jump through the roof and keep going!" I look at him like he was insane. "Go! We'll follow when we can!" I let out an angry groan as I take a few steps back, my heel almost over the edge of the stairs. I see the dragon swoop down again and I give my head a shake, I take a breath and I break into a run and jump.
My landing was less than graceful, due to my still bound hands but I managed to get out with only a few burns, my skin sizzling a bit. The rags that I am wearing does little to nothing to shield me from the heat. I glance back to see Ralof in a fight with someone on the stairs, his arms swinging a weapon. Turning back, I freeze as I look around. The entire village burned in a sea of red, yellow and orange and the cries of the people echoed all around me.
My body wants to either run fast for the hills or work to find weaponry, but instead I stay right where I am. Sometimes freezing is the best of the choices. I want to quell the hammering in my chest, but there's no way that will happen now. I can't breathe, nor can I hear even the simplicity of my heart racing in my chest. I am only able to watch everything burn around me without action.
My shock is broken by a voice calling out above the falling flames.
"Haming, you need to get over here. Now! Torolf!" I race to get away from the men in red, my feet digging into the dirt. "Gods... Everyone get back!" I stop and freeze, my feet sliding in the dirt as the dragon descends and lets out another roar. Again, I hear the words;
"Yol...Toor...Shul!" After he lets the fire fly, the dragon spreads his wings and takes to the skies again. My attention is grabbed again by the list caller.
"Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way." At this point, I have no clue where Ralof is, so I take my chances with the Imperial. "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join their defense."
Gunnar responds with a quick "Gods guide you, Hadvar." Okay, now I know what his name is.
Hadvar starts off in a run, calling behind him as I follow, "Stay close to the wall!" Another blast of flame. When it is finished, we move on. "Quickly, follow me!"
"Hadvar!" Tullius calls out. "Into the keep, soldier, we're leaving!" And off he goes to aid his men.
Hadvar turns to me again, "It's you and me, prisoner. Stay close!" And were off again. As we approach Helgen Keep, I see Ralof running to meet us in front of the keep.
"Ralof! You damned traitor. Out of my way!" Hadvar yells, pointing his blade in Ralof's direction.
"We're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time." He retorts.
"Fine. I hope that the dragon takes you all to Sovngarde." Hadvar gives me a look that makes me feel like he expects me to follow him. For a time, I am standing with two options. Escape with the Imperials? Or the Stormcloaks? The right and the left. Both look the same. But the outcome is different. Choices cannot be undone. Once chosen, can never be chosen again. You can pick one, but you cannot pick both. I take a step towards Ralof and shake my head at Hadvar. He looks between the two of us, and off he goes.
"You!"" Ralof calls to me. "Come on, into the keep!"
Just before entering the keep, I hear the words that make something echo in me.
"Hin sil fen nahkip bahloki."
Upon entering the keep, Ralof goes to check on a fallen comrade. Meanwhile, my body trembles from the crash of my adrenaline. My fingers tremble, my breath shakes. My breath seemed to stutter in my lungs before I let it go, feeling the tension drain from my body. But because the adrenaline was leaving me, something else was taking its place. Pain. Looking at where the pain is emanating from, I see the burn on my arm. The pain was deep within my arm, stinging and burning. From when I landed in the inn. Damn. I had no ointments, no potions, I didn't even have a spell to help seal the pain from spreading. Even now, the pain is increasing in waves, small lulls giving false hope of an end. Each peak robs my ability to control my breathing. All I can do is ride it out, the occasional whimper escaping to echo off the walls. As my breathing returned to normal, I hear Ralof speak to the fallen warrior.
"We'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother." Then he stands from his kneeling position and looks back at me. "Looks like we're the only ones who made it. That thing was a dragon. No doubt. Just like the children's stories and the legends. The harbingers of the End Times. We better get moving. Come here, let me see if I can get those bindings off." I walk like my limbs don't really belong to me and each step is a negotiation rather than an order. Everything hurts now. Every damn thing. I wince as I cross the floor. He pulls out a small blade and slices my wrist binds apart. "There you go. May as well take Gunjar's gear...he won't be needing it anymore." Looking at the man who lays on the floor, I say a silent prayer before I take his armor. I see Ralof turn his back to me and busy himself with the door. I smile. Rebel yes, but still a gentleman it seems.
Getting the tunic off of, Gunjar, was quite... Interesting. I had never undressed a man before, and yet, the first man I undress, is a dead man. I kept my touch respectful, my eyes solely focused on the ties and strings. It was heavy, and didn't fit me well at all, but the cloth was more soothing then the scratchy rags I was wearing. Pulling on the boots, I sigh in relief as I toss the straw like rags away. My feet had taken their beating while running outside. The boots are big, but it's better than going barefoot some more.
"You can turn around now. Thank you." I say when he turns again to face me. He looks over my state of new dress and gives me a stiff nod of approval.
"Alright. Give that axe a few swings. This one's locked. Let's see about that gate." He jogs over and gives it a firm pull. It doesn't budge. "Damn. No way to open this from our side." I use the remains of my bindings to tie my hair into a ponytail, my arm twinging in denial of the movement. My hair was longer now, falling to halfway down my back. When I am all tied, I get a grip for the axe, and swing it. The weight was not bad, but it's better than being left without a weapon. My magic yet to return to me. Like something was holding it back. I was mid swing when I heard it.
"Come on, soldier! Keep moving!" My face breaks out into a sinister smile. The bitch who took my mother's necklace. She was coming towards us.
"It's the Imperials! Take cover!" Ralof moved to the left of the gate he had just tried to open. And I took the right. My left, my more dominant hand and arm, were still dealing with the burns. But when wielding two weapons, you become ambidextrous. I hear the Imperials voice again, and my heart starts to accelerate with the thought of getting back what rightfully belongs to me.
"Get this gate open." The gate swings open with a gentle lock turning click. Several guards step in and Ralof pounces on them. My eyes lock on the Captain.
"Imperial dogs!" Ralof shouts and becomes involved in a steady fight. I swing the axe and land on the Captains ribs, slashing deep. Her pained cry makes me feel good as her gaze lands on me. Stepping up to her I give the axe a jerk, causing droplets of blood to hit the ground.
"I believe you have something that rightfully belongs to me. And I intend to take it back." I get into a readying stance. My cold fury burnt with a dangerous intensity. But my mind was clear and my thoughts collected. Our weapons met. I can't draw it out like I had originally planned. It would have been sweeter yes, but we didn't have the time. I needed to leave this place. But first.
I duck at swing she took with her sword, I straighten, and with both hands, bring my axe down on her right shoulder, the limb popping from the socket, a bone cracking sound echoed around us, as did her cry of pain. I did the same to her left, feeling that bone break under the pressure of my weapon. Her sword drops from her hand, her legs giving out from the weight of the blows, leaving her on her knees. I straighten, feeling a shift of power in me. One of the guards she had entered with runs at me from my right. Sparing him a glance, I make a single horizontal slash and his groans are garbled as blood falls from the open slice I made in his neck.
"You will not get in my way." I state as he drops, letting me focus on the Captain. Her eyes are filled with tears, the pain excruciating, no doubt. I smile at my handy work. Not only have I separated her arms from their sockets, I have broken the collarbones on either side. Without a word, I reach to her neck and pull my necklace free, the chain giving way under the pull. Standing up straight, I refasten the slender chain around my neck. The coolness of the stone shocking my skin.
'Better'.
I smile softly, thumbing the smooth stone. 'I agree.' I think to myself. And the voice. 'Much better. I've missed your voice. Whoever you are.' I'm met with silence. My attention returns to the Captain.
"Unlike you, I was raised to respect the dead. Not to butcher them like animals. And they call me barbaric." I raise my axe at her throat. "I am not like you. Or your people. I will give you a warrior's death. But you don't even deserve that, since you weren't even leading your men in here. It seems the Imperials like to hide behind their forces, and not really stand in a united front at the front lines."
"Divines take you." Captain spits at me. "If you're going to kill me, then get it over with."
"Alright. As a warrior, I acknowledge your spirit and, I should say honor here, but you haven't shown me any. So instead, I will say I respect at your attempt at it, and I hope your spirit gets its due justice or condemned in the hereafter, for how you lived your life on this plane." I let all my anger flow into my arm and swing the axe, ripping her head clean from her shoulders. Both fall to the floor. I turn and see Ralof, standing off to the side. His battle done, and he had watched and waited for me to finish.
"Maybe one of these Imperials had the key. Let's see here... Here we are, found a key. Let's see if it opens that door." I follow his lead toward the large wooden door. "That's it! Come on, let's get out of here before the dragon brings the whole tower down on our heads." We head downstairs, and start down a hallway when the ceiling collapses, blocking our way.
"Damn, that dragon doesn't give up easy." We take a left and pass through a door. Imperial soldiers are also in here. The battle is quick to finish. I say a warrior's prayer and clean off my blade.
"This is a storeroom. See if you can find any potions. We'll need them." I find a few things, and grab a small bag and pack them in. Walking back to him, he glances around then looks at me. "Done?" I give him a tight nod as I sip a healing potion, hissing at the stinging feeling of my arm healing slowly. It was a weak potion, but I already felt stronger. "Let's get moving."
We leave and make our way downstairs. "Hear that?" He asks and our decent slows. We can hear a small battle going on. As we get to the bottom stair, I look around and see things that makes my jaw drop. "Troll's blood! It's a torture room." Ralof sounds terrified.
The stench is something I hadn't expected but should have; it was excrement, urine, sweat, burnt flesh and vomit. The cells were elevated off the ground. The cell was just a metal cage barley big enough for a human. The bars were really thick, and several of them had minor bends in them. Ralof rushed in, attacking with a vengeance. Not long after, I joined in, and after lockpicking the cages, we moved on. Passing through a few more rooms, and taking care of several more Imperials, some spiders, and sneaking past a bear, an opening shines with bright light.
"That looks like the way out! I knew we'd make it!" When we made it out, I stood stock still and did the first thing that came to mind. I took a deep breath in. I sucked in the air as if nothing had ever been so sweet. Those three hours in the tunnel had felt like a week and I had breathed in the stale air. The fragrance of summer grasses and meadow flowers filled my mind, calming me. I let my eyes rest for a moment, feeling the ambiance of hearing the sounds, taking in the aroma, letting my brain be still. Until I feel a prickling on the back of my neck, and a chill runs up my spin. Like when- My eyes snap open and my gaze locks on the sky.
We watch as the dark beast flies overhead and away. I am starting to think I've got a sense for these beasts.
"There he goes. Looks like he's gone for good this time. No way to know if anyone else made it out alive. But this place is going to be swarming with Imperials soon enough. We'd better clear out of here. My sister Gerdur runs the mill in Riverwood, just up the road. I'm sure she'd help you out. It's probably best if we split up. Good luck. I wouldn't have made it without your help today. You know, you should go to Windhelm and join the fight for free Skyrim. You've seen the true face of the Empire here today. If anyone will know what the coming of the dragon means, it's Ulfric."
I was only half listening to him, but my mind was already filled with another matter. I was looking at the smoke rising behind us. I was in a mental debate on turning back and heading in there for my gear, but I stop the thought. Yes, I'm desperate to get my gear, but I'm not a masochist. I needed rest. A bath. And some warm food. And a stiff fucking drink. Looking back towards the town, I rub my neck, happy to feel my necklace back in place. And happy that my head was still on my shoulders. Looking back, I see Ralof has already begun down the road.
I tilt my head upward, feeling my hair tumble further down my back; the pines here are several houses tall, reaching toward the golden rays of spring. Birdsong comes in lulls and bursts, the silence and the singing working together as well as any improvised melody. Like hell had not just been raining down moments ago. Before I know it, my feet have begun to walk, body and mind both on autopilot. Several minutes go by and I nearly run into Ralof, who is standing and staring off in the distance.
"See that ruin up there?" I look to where he points. The columns were the only complete thing, everything else had worn and crumbled - a marker of time in a place of uncounted days. Light shone in, illuminating the relics, precious secrets of the forest. "Bleak Falls Barrow. I never understood how my sister could stand living in the shadow of that place."
"I guess you get used to it." I murmur as we walk on. Until we come across 3 rock pillars.
"These are the Guardian Stones, three of the thirteen ancient standing stones that dot Skyrim's landscape. Go ahead, see for yourself." They were quite impressive. I look at the etched in constellations and touch one I feel most drawn too, a light glows in the space and I feel a soothing feeling wash over me.
"Warrior, good! Those stars will guide you to honor and glory."
"One could only hope." I say as we walk on.
"Remember, this isn't Stormcloak territory. If we're ahead of the news from Helgen, we should be fine as long as we don't do anything stupid. If we run into any Imperials, just let me do the talking, alright? I'm glad you decided to come with me. We're almost to Riverwood."
Rustic cabins dotted the border of brick roads and unpolished homes. Rivers streamed through this deep valley alongside this town. A few children ran and played; a woman was working on a tanning rack. It was.. Quiet. I release a breath I didn't know I was holding.
"Looks like nobody here knows what happened yet. Come on. Gerdur's probably working in her lumber mill." As we walk on, I get a mental layout of the town. "Gerdur!"
"Brother! Mara's mercy, it's good to see you!" Gerdur responds, her face lighting up at her brother's presence. She jogs over to see him and embrace him in a tight hug. A place in my chest aches, and I look away, pushing the feeling aside.
"Gerdur..." He releases her and she gives him a look over.
"But is it safe for you to be here? We heard that Ulfric had been captured..." She starts and Ralof gives her an assuring glance.
"Gerdur, I'm fine. At least now I am."
"Are you hurt? What's happened? And who's this?" She casts a glance at me and I internally grimace at mt state of attire. "One of your comrades?" She asks.
"Not a comrade yet, but a friend." I look at him and feel a smile forming on my lips. A friend. "I owe her my life, in fact. Is there somewhere we can talk? There's no telling when the news from Helgen will reach the Imperials..."
"Helgen Has something happened...? You're right. Follow me." She turns and leads us to a small clearing, where a large tree had been cut down, leaving a large stump. "Hod!" I jump a little when Gerdur calls out to a man who is working a large cutting machine. "Come here a minute. I need your help with something." When the machine powers down, I hear a groan of displeasure.
"What is it, woman? Sven drunk on the job again?" I frown, but a smirk tugs at my lips. Again?
"Hod, just come here." I see him stand near the rails of the mill and his eyes find Ralof.
"Ralof! What are you doing here? Ahh...I'll be right down." I see him take a step back, and with a heavy step, he jumps the rail and lands on the ground a few feet away. Dusting himself off, he walks towards us. I nearly get knocked over by a young boy, probably not much older than 9.
"Uncle Ralof! Can I see your axe? How many Imperials have you killed? Do you really know Ulfric Stormcloak?" The boy's questions are asked rapid fire, and I can't help but let out a chuckle at Ralof's bombarded look, I cover it with a cough and I see Gurder place a hand on the boys shoulder.
"Hush, Frodnar. This is no time for your games. Go and watch the south road. Come find us if you see any Imperial soldiers coming." The boy, Frodnar, looks up at his mother and sulks.
"Aw, mama, I wanna stay and talk with Uncle Ralof!"
Ralof smiled and gives the boy a gentle wave to tell him to step closer. "Look at you, almost a grown man! Won't be very long before you'll be joining the fight yourself."
Frodnar smiles and nods his head. "That's right! Don't worry, Uncle Ralof, I won't let those soldiers sneak up on you." I watch as Frodnar walks off. He's a nice kid. And loves his family.
Hod took a place beside his wife and gave us both a quick glance over. "Now, Ralof, what's going on? You two look pretty well-done in." I nearly let out a snort. What. A. Fucking. UNDERSTATMENT.
Ralof sighs and rubs his neck. "I can't remember when I last slept... Where to start? Well, the news you heard about Ulfric was true. The Imperials ambushed us outside Darkwater Crossing. Like they knew exactly where we'd be...that was two days ago, now." I blink and let out a gasp, causing him to look my way. I had been unconscious for DAYS?! It felt like... Hours. Hell, I didn't even feel rested. Did they drug me? Two days. My mind was blown. Two days lost. I had to check on a few things when things got straightened away... Pushing the sliver of fear and dread, I focus back on them. "We stopped in Helgen this morning, and I thought it was all over. Had us lined up to the headsman's block and ready to start chopping."
Gerdur's eyes flashed with something dangerous that made me smile in appreciation. "The cowards!
"They wouldn't dare give Ulfric a fair trial. Treason, for fighting for your own people! All of Skyrim would've seen the truth then. But then, out of nowhere...a dragon attacked!
"You don't mean a real, live..."
"I can hardly believe it myself, and I was there. As strange as it sounds, we'd be dead if not for that dragon. In the confusion, we managed to slip away. Are we really the first to make it to Riverwood?" He asked.
Gerdur shook her head 'no'. "Nobody else has come up the south road today, as far as I know."
"Good. Maybe we can lay up for a while. I hate to put your family in danger, Gerdur, but..." She cut him off with a raise of her hand.
"Nonsense. You and your friend are welcome to stay here as long as you need to. Let me worry about the Imperials." He gives a grateful nod and stands to give a firm handshake to Hod. Divines, I couldn't believe.. She just let me into her home. Not caring or asking who I was, or where I came from. I was stuck between thinking these Nords are either the kindest or daftest people. Until I see Gurder walk towards me as Ralof and Hod made their way into town.
"Any friend of Ralof's is a friend of mine. Here's a key to the house. Stay as long as you like. If there's anything else you need, just let me know."
"Thank you so much. Your very kind. If there is anything, I can do to lessen the load of me being here, let me know. I will help you in any way I can to repay you for your hospitality."
"There's something you can do for me. For all of us here. The Jarl needs to know if there's a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenseless... We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun to send whatever soldiers he can. If you'll do that for me, I'll be in your debt." I think on it a second and nod.
"You have my word."
"Thanks, sister. I knew I could count on you." He wraps and arm around her shoulders and gives a light squeeze.
Gerdur smiles and leans her head towards him for a moment, then she straightens. "I ought to get back to work before I'm missed, but...did anyone else escape? Did Ulfric..."
"Don't worry, I'm sure he made it out. It would take more than a dragon to stop Ulfric Stormcloak." He said it so proudly. A large hand clamps on Ralof's shoulder and I get a close size up of Hod. Sweet Divines, where all men large? I felt dwarfed!
"I'll let them into the house, and, you know, show them where everything is." Hod explained pulling Ralof away.
"Hmph, help them drink up our mead, you mean..." She rolled her eyes, her face lightening up with a smile. "Good luck, brother. I'll see you later."
Ralof waved at us as he strode away with Hod. "Don't worry about me. I know how to lay low."
The day passes in a blur, and since no soldiers happened upon the road, we began to relax. I gathered ingredients and mix a healing salve and apply it to my arm, and while its works its magic, I chop wood until my hands are burning. I help with a wood elf named Faendal with hunting and caught game for our evening's dinner. When the sun began to fade, I touch my arm and feel that the mixture had hardened. I finish helping with dinner and decide to wash it off and see if another application is needed. I walk to the riverbed and bend to kick off my boots. While I sit on the bank, I adjust my armor and begin washing my arm. The sting is gone, and my skin is healed. I breathe out a sigh of relief as I sit back and look at the sky.
Even the air was different here. It held a chill to it, even in the warm sunlight. I was lost in thought when I hear a few men walking up the road, talking about going to the inn for a few rounds. A drink would be nice, but I need to clean up first. Wetting a cloth, I wipe down as much of myself as possible, and rinse my hair in the water. I see a large nordic hound running around with some kinds, barking at their heels. I smile and wring out the water from my hair, letting it fall all around me. I turn to sit on the riverbank and my eyes look towards Helgen. The smoke was white now, lifting gently towards the darkening sky. I should go and retrieve my things. If they are still there. Ralof finds me near the river, soaking my feet, and takes a seat beside me.
"I told you my sister would help us out." I shake my head in disbelief and wipe a hand down my face, enjoying the feeling of the cool water on my skin.
"Its.. Startling on how welcoming your family is. They are good people." I say with a smile. He lets out a chuckle and looks towards the house and nods.
"They are." He says with a smile and turns his head back to me, and gives me a serious look. "I'm sorry that you got mixed up in all this." I shrug and pull my feet from the water.
"I'm used to getting into trouble." He smiles at this.
"Then you will be just fine here. We Nords are no strangers to trouble and war."
"So I've seen. But Ralof, I'm not a Nord." I state and he looks at me with a strong gaze.
"You may not be a nord, but you are a warrior." And with that, it was settled. We sit a moment and I notice the bag he had behind him.
"I see you aren't staying long." I say and he lets out a sigh.
"Aye. And no doubt you won't be either. You've a look that says you are in search of something." He gives me a steady look and I sigh and nod.
"I'm looking for someone. Many things have happened since I last saw him and.. I need answers. And maybe a bit of blood." My hand clenched into a fist.
"Someone dear to you?" He asked and I weigh the question for a second before I answer.
"I don't know anymore. Its been so long and it feels like he cut all ties from me since he came here. To Skyrim. And I am going to find out why. And if he isn't dead, then there is no excuse." I state. Ralof says nothing, just looks down the river. I look in the same direction and notice a bag by his right hand.
"Leaving soon?" I ask and he turns back to me, his eyes lost in thought.
"Aye. I need to get back to Windhelm, and since I can't stay on the main road, I must lay low."
I nod. Holding out my arm, I see him look at me, then it, then my face again. Then his arm clasps mine.
"Thank you Ralof. If there is any way I can help you, like you did for me, I swear on my life I will do it." And I meant it. I think he knew this by how serious his expression was. With a firm shake, he releases my forearm.
"I hope to see you in Windhelm. Good luck. May the gods watch over your battles, friend." I bow my head in farewell to his as he stand and pick his bag up and turns away.
"And Yours. Friend." I whisper and I watch as he walks down the road, and out of the town.
I slept most of the night, and into some of the morning. I woke in the early hours, my dreams plagued with balls of fire, children screaming, and the smell of blood. Packing a small bag, taking only what I needed, I headed out of the doors. Looking at the town, still asleep I start a slow walk towards Helgen. I get onto the main road when I see something move in my right peripheral, walking into town. It looked like a person. My eyes were glued to the figure ahead. It was dressed in dark cloth. Making it hard to see who it was. It moved toward the inn, but paused. My heartbeat quickened when it took a step towards me then stops again. What really alarmed me was that the thoughts that had been plaguing me for most of the day ebbed away. I felt something. Like... An electric charge. Shaking my head, I slowly turn away, but a felt a pair of eyes on me. Soon I am out of the town and with the slowly rising sun, I see the road to Helgen. And all too soon, I was back where this whole thing began. Raising a hand to push the doors, I see my hand trembling. To say I was unafraid would be a bold lie. Even as I stood outside the large doors. My knees shook together so hard I fear they would give way. I closed my eyes and listened; no sound came from the other side. Even patrol guards would be doing rotations if they had stayed or sent for more soldiers. I am apprehensive, yet unafraid. It is the jolt I need to know that I am walking back into a fading storm, but not so much that my steps will be hindered. Taking a steadying breath, I pushed the doors open.
I walked past the heavy gates and closed so no one would suspect that I had entered this place. Father told me once that 'If you do not have anyone to mourn upon, you must not disturb the peace that hovers above the death bed of many or you will be haunted'. I was about to say a prayer for the dead to be at peace with my presence when I finally took a long look at the rest of the village. I wince. The walls had long since crumbled and in their place stood thick beams of wood, blackened and charred from where the flames had licked at them. The ruins were still smoking and I could see the faintest glow of embers as I maneuvered around the creaking remnants. Black dust hung in the air and invaded my lungs as I walked around.
I see the carriages that had brought us here, and walk towards them. One the one farthest from me had several bags on its side paneling. I move several aside, and let out a cough when ash sprung up. I hear the familiar sound of clinking metal and as I remove one more bag, I see them. My swords, both of them, and my greatsword. Despite the ash and soot, they are still in perfect condition. Digging through the bags, I pull out several gold coins, some potions and a spell tome. And there at the bottom, I see my clothes. Pulling them out a let out a relieved sigh. These, which had been made for me many years ago, now fit me. Well, almost. I wasn't slender and tall like my mother had been, nor like my elven kin. I had to get them adjusted a while ago and now, they fit me like a glove. Grabbing all I needed, I head back to Riverwood.
I stop and undress by the river, taking a long-needed wash, even in the cold water, I felt better, I wince at the dried blood, dirt and soot that left. The sun had now risen, and it was no more past 9am. Pulling my leather pants on, I tighten the buckle around my waist and attach my swords to either hip, my chainmail and shirts were next. I slipped my arms through my greatsword's holster straps and tighten the buckle to secure it to me. The long sword pressed along my spine, its weight welcome. Pulling on my gloves and boots, I set to my hair, settling on a 3 braided tail, keeping it out of my face. Walking back into the town, I decide to find Gurder and help out a bit before I leave. She tells me to go to the Inn and see of the barkeep has heard anything amongst the other travelers, and to gather information. I nod, and hug her goodbye. With a look to the sky, I take my first step on my journey. And my destiny.
Authors Note:
Hey everyone!
Hope you are liking my story so far!
This chapter is probably the LONGEST I have ever written, and I hope it wasn't too fast paced near the end. At the end of each chapter, I will put links or translations to words of Power. Please let me know what you guys think!
Toor shul! - Inferno, Sun.
Vol toor shul! - "Horror Inferno Sun"
"Hin sil fen nahkip bahloki." = "Your soul will feed my hunger."