"Book passage on carriage or vessel, and make the journey north.

See Skyrim with thine own own eyes."

-Nords of Skyrim, by Hrothmund Wolf-heart

They arrived in Riverwood just after dark, which was fortunate, as it turned out.

"I can't believe you're sneaking into your own hometown," Maggie whispered.

"Welcome to Skyrim," Ralof said.

"Really?" Maggie rolled her eyes.

"Seriously," Ralof said. "Whiterun Hold is neutral in the civil war, but instead of both sides being welcome here, neither is. Jarl Balgruuf is doesn't want to look like he's supporting either side more than the other."

So they slipped into town under the cover of darkness, without using the path or the main gate. Ralof led Maggie up to a house set apart from the rest of town. The house's features were difficult to make out in the dark, but the mill in the backyard was obvious.

Ralof knocked on the door.

"Hod, it's me," he whispered.

The door opened. A sword emerged from the darkness, pointing at Ralof's throat.

"Whoa. Wait. It's me. It's Ralof."

A candle flame flared to life. In its light, Maggie could see the face of a man with the same bearing as everyone she'd met since coming to Skyrim: that of someone accustomed to hardship.

"Ralof?" he said. "What are you doing here?"

"I'll explain. But not here. Can we come inside?"

"We?"

The man saw Maggie.

"Is Ulfric recruiting Bretons now?"

"I'm not a rebel. I needed armor, and this is what was available," Maggie explained.

"Damn half-Elves," the man muttered.

"Really?" Maggie muttered.

"Can we come in or not?" Ralof asked.

"You can. Not her."

"She's with me. She saved my life, and I've never met a better archer."

The other man scowled.

"I'm not coming in without her," Ralof said, "so either you let us in, or we go get rooms in the Sleeping Giant."

"Alright. Come in."


4E 201

19th of Last Seed

Sundas

Location: Riverwood

Weather: Partly cloudy

We made it to Riverwood late last night. I immediately wanted to fall into a nice soft bed. I haven't shown it, but I'm exhausted. Helgen was a huge strain on my body, and sleeping on the ground for the last couple days hasn't helped.

But before I could, Ralof had to vouch for me to his family. I might be wearing Stormcloak armor, but, unlike some of the Imperials, they noticed that I'm a Breton and were immediately suspicious. Old stories about us being half Elf, and all.

And once that was done, Ralof's sister, Gerdur, noticed the cut on my arm, which I had completely forgotten in my rush to get to a decent bed. So I had to wait a little longer while she cleaned and bandaged it. But I'm not complaining about that, at least. I'm just glad it wasn't infected.

There's a blacksmith in town, so I'm hoping I can get some less conspicuous armor. I'm leaving as soon as possible for the Hall. If I can get out of here tomorrow, I might still make it on schedule…


Maggie woke up early the next morning, but not early enough. She had slept on a pallet in Hod and Gerdur's spare room, surrounded by stored food. When she walked out into the main room, she found that, despite the early hour, she was the last one up.

"How'd you sleep?" Ralof asked her.

"Beats sleeping on the ground without a sleeping bag," Maggie said.

"Plans for today?"

"Get some armor that's less…political. There's a blacksmith in town, right?"

"Of course there is," said Hod.

"But I wouldn't recommend going there," Ralof added.

"Why not?" Maggie asked.

"His nephew's an Imperial soldier," Ralof explained.

"Oh?"

"You've met him."

"I have?"

"Hadvar."

"So that's how you know each other," Maggie said.

"We grew up together."

"I'm sorry."

"There's a thousand people in Skyrim with the same story."

Maggie thought for a second.

"Well, I'll take the armor off," she said.

"If Hadvar's in town it won't make a difference. He'll recognize you, and then we'll both get arrested and probably go right back to the chopping block."

"Back to the chopping block?" Gerdur asked. "What happened?"

"That's a long story," Ralof said.

"No one's going anywhere," said Hod.

"Well, it starts with a trip to Falkreath. Taking control of Falkreath Hold would be strategically advantageous and would also put pressure on Balgruuf to hurry up and choose a side already. I don't know why Jarl Ulfric decided he needed to lead the mission personally, but he did.

"Either Tullius predicted what we were planning or someone sold us out. Because he walked straight into an ambush. As did she, while trying to cross the border from Hammerfell."

"What was a Breton doing in Hammerfell?" Hod asked.

"Avoiding the mountains," Maggie said.

"Anyway, there was a fight. Anyone who wasn't killed was sent to Helgen to be executed."

Gerdur looked at Maggie. "For nothing?" she asked.

"For heresy, actually," Maggie said.

"Oh. Well, then."

"So why are you both not short a few inches?" Hod asked.

"That's the real story," Maggie said. "Do you want to tell it, or should I?"

"You can, if you want," Ralof said.

"Helgen is gone," Maggie said. "Destroyed."

"How?"

Maggie took a deep breath.

"A dragon."

"That's impossible," Gerdur said.

"Seems like it, but it happened," Ralof said.

"How? They were wiped out," Hod added.

"You missed one," Maggie said.

"It's just…" Gerdur looked at Ralof. "You know the story."

"Their return is supposed to be the end of the world. So I've been told," Maggie said. "But here's the thing. It's not like they're coming back from the dead."

"How do you know?" Gerdur asked.

"I saw one once before, a few days before I got to Skyrim. It was just a roar and the shadow of a wing against a cliff face, but it's clearly been up there in the mountains a long time."

"What are you saying?" Hod asked.

"That I don't think this is some apocalyptic event. It's just one dragon. We track it down, kill it, and then everything goes back to normal."


19th of Last Seed (cont.)

Weather: Still partly cloudy

Hod and Gerdur are as convinced as Ralof is that the return of the dragons heralds the end of the world. I tried to convince them that it was just one dragon and that all we had to do was find it and kill it and the problem would be dealt with.

I think I lied. First, part of me, that part that looks at dragons in awe and dreams about being one, doesn't want to see them die. And second, even as I said it, I realized that I wasn't sure I believed it.

I keep telling myself that they're wrong. That the Nordic apocalypse story is wrong. But even if it is, there could be more dragons. If the rebels missed one, how many more could they have missed? Hiding out in any remote, inhospitable area, a dragon could go unnoticed indefinitely, and Skyrim has plenty of those.

And even a few dragons could cause the end of the world, in a manner of speaking, by taking over Tamriel and reducing the rest of us to little more than slaves.

I'm scaring myself.

Anyway, after that talk, I needed some air, so I went out behind the house. There's a workbench out there, with materials, so I sat down and crafted 20 arrows of the kind I'm most familiar with: wooden shafts with stone or metal heads and feathers for fletching. I ended up having to use stone heads, which are primitive but no less effective if properly carved. Finding enough feathers to fletch them all proved difficult, so I hung on to the metal ones. I'll have to shoot a bird on the way to Whiterun.


Maggie looked up as Ralof stepped outside, letting the door fall shut behind him.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

"I have a lot to think about," she said.

"Everyone does."

"What?"

"Life is hard."

"Well, of course it is. I'm not saying there wasn't a lot on my plate before Helgen, but it was a different kind of stuff."

Maggie stood up.

"You know, go hunting, Wayrest on Sundas, tend the herb garden, practice my aim, study…

"Study?" Ralof asked.

"I was planning on going to college."

"College? Like the College of Winterhold?"

"That's a mages' college. I'm talking about studying history. Or archeology."

"Starting when?"

"I planned to apply after I got home from this trip. But now I honestly don't know if I'll ever get home, considering I almost died five times just in Helgen."

"Five times?"

It was Gerdur, standing in the doorway.

"Well…you know…dragons…" Maggie said. "Also, Imperials. Guy with an ax…"

"You can tell me the whole story over lunch," Gerdur said.

"There's not much to tell," Maggie said as she followed Gerdur inside. "Two fights with Imperial soldiers, two times I was almost dragon food, and my almost-execution."

Lunch was a simple, but delicious, bowl of potato soup. It was the first decent food Maggie had eaten since her stop in Elinhir.

"So was all that stuff Tullius said about Ulfric true?" Maggie asked.

"The Empire always exaggerates," Ralof said. "Ulfric challenged High King Torygg for the kingship. Single combat has always been the traditional way that power changes hands in Skyrim "

"But Ulfric used the Voice to gain an unfair advantage," Maggie guessed.

"It was Torygg who didn't fight fairly. Ulfric used the Voice in self-defense."

"I'm going to stop this argument right there," Gerdur said. She turned to Maggie. "What you have to understand while you're in Skyrim is that neither side in this war is fully right and neither side is fully wrong. They both have their propaganda and their biases. If you don't want to get involved, then don't let us pressure you into choosing a side."

"I'm already leaning Stormcloak," Maggie said.

"Oh," Gerdur said. "Ok."

"The Imperials tried to execute me. They're probably looking for me right now. I'd probably be arrested if I tried to join them. Not to mention, I was on that cart for heresy. A Stormcloak victory means no more executing people for their choice of Divine, right?"

"Most likely," Ralof said.

"Only most likely?" Maggie asked.

"Well, we're not fighting for that specifically. Ulfric fought in the Great War, and he thought the Empire was horribly weak for signing that treaty."

"Which they were," Hod put in.

"He figured that, if the Redguards were seceding, then we Nords could too."

"Seems fair," Maggie said.

"The problem is that this time the Empire has the resources to dedicate to putting down a rebellion."

"So you're not fighting to bring back Talos?"

"We're fighting because we're mad about the White-Gold Concordat, and since the Talos ban was part of the treaty, I guess you could say that we are."

"So what's the political situation right now?" Maggie asked.

"Dawnstar, Winterhold, and Riften have sided with Ulfric and Windhelm. Falkreath, Markarth, Morthal, and Solitude are loyal to the Empire. Whiterun, as I've already said, is still neutral."

There was a knock on the door.

Hod and Gerdur jumped up.

"Both of you, hide in the storeroom," Gerdur said, as she hurriedly stashed Maggie's and Ralof's soup bowls under the table.

They did.

Hod opened the door.

"Hod, have you heard?" asked a man's voice.

"Heard what?"

"I just heard from my nephew that Helgen's been destroyed. By a dragon."

"That's impossible," Gerdur said.

"Hadvar saw it with his own two eyes, and, as crazy as it sounds, I believe him."

"Then we should send word to the jarl," Hod said.

"Exactly what I was thinking," the man said. "Will you go?"

"Yes. Of course I will, but I have an order of wood bound for Rorikstead that I'll have to finish chopping first."

"That's fine, I suppose. If it can't be helped."

The door closed.

"That was Alvor, the blacksmith," Gerdur said. "His nephew—"

"We heard every word," Maggie interrupted, coming out of the storeroom.

"Hadvar's in town," Ralof said.

"Yes, but he gave us a way to get you out of town," Gerdur said. "Will you two go to Whiterun and warn the jarl?"

"I am known to the jarl and to the hold guards," Ralof said. "I'll be arrested the second I show my face."

"I guess it's up to me," Maggie said.

Ralof handed her the borrowed armor, which she'd taken off to sleep.

"You'll need the extra protection on the road," he said. "Trust me."

"Welcome to Skyrim," Maggie joked.

Hod and Gerdur handed her a pack and a cloak.

"You'll need these," Gerdur said.

"Don't leave until it starts to get dark, and take anything you need from the storeroom," said Hod.

"Thanks," Maggie said.


Her new pack full of supplies, including the armor, Maggie snuck out the front door of the house at dusk. There was no one in site except for a pair of guards walking in the other direction and two people having a loud argument in the doorway of a shop.

"No, Camilla," said the man. "I'm not letting you go running off."

"You said it yourself," the woman said. "The Golden Claw is a family heirloom. We have to go get it back."

"We will not be doing anything. What would you do if you did find the thieves who took it? I'll hire someone to go get it."

That would be a good way to make some money. Maggie made a note of the name on the store's sign. Valerius, it said.

She was headed in the other direction, so she turned away from the shop and the arguing couple.

She was almost at the gate when she felt the tip of a sword pressed to the back of her neck.

"Hands up. Turn around slowly," commanded a familiar voice.

Maggie complied.

"Hadvar," she said. "How in Oblivion did you sneak up on me?"

The Imperial held a torch in one hand and his sword in the other. The soldier who'd been with him in Helgen stood behind him, a length of rope in his hands.

"Where's Ralof?" Hadvar demanded.

"We split up," Maggie said. "Right after escaping Helgen. I don't know where he is."

"You came out of his sister's house," Hadvar snapped. "Don't lie to me, traitor."

"I…no, I won't tell you."

"Fine." He turned to his comrade. "Tie her hands."

"Wait," said the other soldier. "This is what I've been trying to tell you."

"What?" Hadvar asked.

"She did better against that dragon than did an entire squadron of legionaries working together. If we're going to find it and kill it, then the best place for her is out there looking for it, not in jail. And definitely not on a chopping block."

"Fine," Hadvar said. "Go kill that dragon."


AN: Maggie meets Ralof's family, who send her to Whiterun to speak to the jarl about Helgen and the dragon.

This chapter took forever. It's the main reason why it's taken me so long to update.