Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim

Flowing. A current sweeping my body away from land, constant twisting, and tumbling. My lungs won't fill, as I gasp desperately for air as I sink and surface. Cold. The chill seeps into my body, settling amongst the pain, creating an unpleasant sensation. Is it over? It might be. I don't know where I am or where I'm going, but I can't imagine that anybody will hear my screams. Do screams carry through water? I don't know. I'm losing my voice, my mouth and lungs filling with water. I'm losing all feeling in my limbs, I can't move even my fingers. I'm losing sight, my eyes are closing. I'm sinking again, and all I see is black.

-X-

"By the Eight, boy! Wake up!", a woman's voice calls to me. A dream? Yes. I remember now. I was pulled from the water, near death, given shelter and warmth, and nursed back to health.

"Dear me, you gave me quite the scare!", she says. My eyes open abruptly, blinking the grogginess away, I look to the source of the voice. Gilfre, her name is. My savior, she might as well be my goddess, Aedra and Daedra be damned.

My memory still foggy, I try to remember what had happened that night. Gilfre discovered me in the water near her mill, floating motionless in the turbulent waters, a corpse at first glance. According to her, I was bleeding from the left side of my stomach to my thigh, damned if I know how I obtained those injuries, but anything could have happened when I lost my consciousness in the water.

"Sorry, sometimes I can't help but play silly little pranks such as these!", I try to lighten the mood. Since she has begun taking care of me, Gilfre has told me of the nights I had early on. I struggled sometimes to breath, my nightmares taking me over and causing me to violently convulse in my sleep. I try my best to let go of that pain and of that trauma, but it haunts me during my time of rest. I winced as the laughing caused some of the injuries to flare up.

"Amos," she says soothingly, my name being the only thing that I can remember thus far, "it is alright to be honest with me, I scooped you out of that torrent after all. It can only have been a traumatic experience to be there, and what may have happened beforehand as well. Though you may not remember, your body certainly does."

I relent. She looks at me expectantly to admit, "Yes, Gilfre. It was another nightmare, the same one. Of being tossed around by the water and losing all control. It's the same every time. Yet I cannot find anything beyond that, nothing further back. My past is still a mystery.".

She sighs, "Amos, do not force yourself to attempt to remember. It has only been days since your recovery, you must continue to rest as much as you can. Though, from the look of things, it seems that you are energetic enough to help me around the mill, starting with chopping some firewood for yourself. Wouldn't want you to freeze in the workers' house, would we?", she winks at me.

I soon realize why, looking down, and notice my state of undress in bed. My cheeks burn as I cover myself up, and I look up to her laughing, "Don't worry, I've seen more of you in less than that these past few days! Now, up, I can't have you sitting here in embarrassment the entire day.", she smirks at my reddening face.

"Please allow me some privacy to make myself proper.", all previous worries gone, replaced by the sheer embarrassment of being noticed in a state of undress by a woman. She nods, but not without smiling at me one last time before leaving. I can't help but be worried about what that smile meant, but it can't be anything too bad.

I look to the side at the clothes she had prepared for me, or what was left in this house that I could fit in. Gilfre had workers before I found myself in her care, but since the beginning of the Stormcloak rebellion, they had last been seen on their way to Windhelm to enlist and help with the cause of freeing Skyrim from Imperial clutches. I didn't share those sentiments, I'm an Imperial myself. If anything, I should feel somewhat slighted because of their views, if not full on offended that Skyrim was only 'for the Nords!'. I thought nothing of it at first, but as Gilfre has been feeding me more information about the state of Skyrim, I can't help but think that the rebellion might end up leaving things worse as they began.

Oh well, they have yet to do anything to me personally, and I haven't been out of the area of the mill since getting here, so perhaps things may be different.

I swing my legs off the bed I've been laying in and wince. The wounds are still sore and the bandages freshly replaced. Gilfre did her best to stitch and wash them, but without healing spells or a temple, not much could be done about the pain and healing. I'll have to just push through it. The house around me is barren, save for the bed that I've been sleeping on, pots, plates, and other beds intended for more workers. I really could have done worse though. I could have been taken and eaten by a cannibal in the woods while unconscious. I shook off the thought and opened the door.

The cool Skyrim weather hit me, fresh air, and a nice chilly breeze. "Took you long enough!" Gilfre exclaims, "Grab an axe and bring me all the wood you can chop! Don't push yourself though!", have to earn my keep somehow, I suppose.

This is how my days have gone since my recovery, the occasional nightmare, a check-up from Gilfre, and coming back outside to help her out with work around the mill. It's not a bad life if this were to be the rest of my days. Other than helping Gilfre out, the occasional traveler comes by asking for firewood or lumber. I think the last ones were the Khajiit caravan that set up outside of Windhelm, aside from the inn patrons by Kynesgrove that also ask for the occasional shipment of firewood to keep their business nice and warm.

Not much has been heard from Windhelm as of late, not that I'm expecting things to have died down at all, but there hasn't been a lot of activity from Stormcloak troops coming in and out. Considering the mill being on the main road to and from Windhelm, we would have seen and likely been asked for requisitions to help with the war effort. It's a pleasant change of pace if a bit eerie. As if this was the calm before the storm.

It doesn't matter.

There's wood to cut, and I'm still injured. I don't have any reason to be thinking about the worst right now. If things get any worse than my near-lifeless body being pulled out of the water and losing my memories, then the world is truly going to shit.

And I think that problem is somebody else' entirely.