Author's Note:
You may (or may not) notice that the layout of Gerdur and Hod's house is different in this than in the game. That will be the case with virtually every building featured in this story.
Morndas, 17th of Last Seed, 4E201
The angle of the sun had shifted into a late afternoon slant by the time Riverwood came into view, announcing itself with a small cobblestone gateway over the road. Before they could draw too close, Ralof stopped them.
"We ought to avoid the main gate. It's probably best if no one in Riverwood sees you're here, Jarl."
Ulfric assessed the gate. "Agreed. Riverwood is still technically under Imperial control." He paused, as if mulling something over. "If word gets out that your sister harbored me, she could get in a lot of trouble. Do you still want to do this?"
Ralof, currently the one carrying the girl, gave a dismissive chuff. "Of course. She'd box my ears if she found out I didn't let her help."
The girl looked over and raised her brow at Ulfric. He subtly shrugged.
The three of them moved right, leaving the road and heading for a line of trees that marked what the girl could only assume were the "woods" of Riverwood's name. It seemed the village was sandwiched between trees on one side and a moderate river on the other, with the main road going straight through its center. Ralof explained to them that the village was small enough not to attract a lot of government attention, yet just big enough for travelers and merchants to stop through on their way to the nearby city of Whiterun.
The girl wondered how much of this should have sounded familiar. Ralof had said something about a border when she'd first woken up in the prison wagon, so perhaps she'd come from some more distant place, and that was why none of the city names stirred any memories. She needed to find out where that border had been.
The group circled the village from behind the treeline until Ralof brought them to the place where he felt it safe to emerge. They found themselves standing before a sturdy wooden fence, a small barn and a chicken coop beyond it. Ralof set the girl down on the other side of the fence and he and Ulfric hopped over.
Leading them to the back wall of the barn, Ralof signaled for them to stay put. He crept down the length of the barn, peered around the corner, waited for several seconds, and beckoned to them.
"There's no one in the yard," he said. "We can head straight for the back door."
He stepped out from behind the barn, reaching back to take the girl's hand one final time, and led them into a dirt yard with a handful of chickens scattered around it. One placid brown cow ambled among them. She and the girl made eye contact as Ralof pulled her toward a solid-looking little house. With no hesitation, Ralof pushed open the back door.
He ushered her inside after Ulfric and shut the door, leaving them in a dimly lit room. To her right was a hearth with a large kettle hung over the low flames, a waft of steam rising from its spout. In front of the hearth sat a well-worn table with matching benches shoved beneath it, a chair on either end. Beyond that was the opposite wall of the house and the front door.
Ralof sighed in relief. "I think we're in the clear."
A sweep of movement to their left drew the girl's attention to a plain curtain partitioning off part of the house. There, frozen with one hand holding aside the curtain, stood a small child. He couldn't have been older than five. His eyes skipped over her to snag on Ulfric, widening as they rolled up the entire hulking mass of him.
He screamed.
Ulfric startled back and knocked her into the side of the hearth. Ralof lurched around him with his hands waving frantically.
"Frodnar! It's me! It's Uncle Ralof! Look, look!"
The boy flung the curtain at him and retreated so quickly he fell on his backside. He was still screaming and Ralof still shouting when the front door banged open, a blast of light filling the room and illuminating a broad figure in the doorway.
"Frodnar?" the figure bellowed. He caught sight of the intruders in his home and went taut. His eyes lit with fire. He hefted the garden hoe in his hands, and Ulfric threw an arm out in front of the girl.
"Hod, wait!"
Ralof leapt between the man and Ulfric, hands open and arms outstretched. The man stopped mid-stride. A wave of recognition snuffed out the aggression on his face.
"Ralof?"
The little boy behind the curtain stopped screaming long enough to dart out and collide with the newcomer's leg. The man placed a hand atop his head, partially releasing the hoe to let the metal end hit the floor. Ralof dropped his arms and whooshed out a laugh. The newcomer, now only confused, propped the hoe against the wall beside the door.
"You scared the living daylights outta me!" he boomed. He strode forward—the boy clinging to his leg along for the ride—and reached out to grasp Ralof's hand.
"Yes, sorry about that. Frodnar took one look at us and about leapt out of his body."
At the mention of "us" the man glanced past Ralof to Ulfric, who was relaxing from his stance in front of the girl. He afforded the girl a much briefer look before releasing Ralof's hand.
"What on Nirn are you doing here? In uniform, no less?"
Ralof shook his head. "It's a long story, and I'd rather only tell it once. Is my sister around?"
The man jabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward the still-open front door. "She's just finishing up at the mill. But I can get her to hightail it over."
"That would be good. And probably don't mention to anyone else that we're here."
A second time, the man looked from Ralof to the strangers behind him. "I see."
He took a moment to disentangle the boy from his leg and got down on one knee, meeting him at eye level with a firm expression. "Stay here and visit with Uncle Ralof, and no more screaming. You're not afraid of Uncle Ralof, are you?"
The little boy's mouth pulled into a pout and he shook his head vigorously, as if he hadn't just had the wits scared out of him. His father huffed and tweaked his nose. "That's what I thought."
He rose and threw Ralof a nod before retreating back out the front door, shutting it behind him. In the renewed dimness, Ralof heaved a sigh and turned toward Ulfric and the girl.
"Sorry about that. That was my brother-in-law, Hod. Guess I should have introduced you."
Ulfric shook his head. "Time for that when he comes back."
Ralof grunted in agreement before giving his attention to his nephew.
"Hey, Frodnar. Sorry I startled you. You remember me, right?"
Frodnar stared at him in silence. Then, as if he'd only just noticed the man, he brightened and bound forward to hug his leg. "Uncle Ralof!"
The girl couldn't help a laugh. The others all looked at her, the men in surprise and the boy in curiosity. She felt her shoulders rise toward her ears; the injured one gave a pang and she flinched. She grabbed the arm above the elbow.
"Oh, that's right. Sit down, let's look at that again," Ralof said. He mussed Frodnar's hair before proceeding to the table and nudging one of the chairs out with a foot. Ulfric prodded her toward it and she complied with the unspoken instruction. Ralof muttered something about the lack of light and proceeded to go rummaging for candles.
Sitting at one end of the table, with Ulfric settling onto an adjacent bench seat, the girl felt a tug on the other side of her skirt. Frodnar stood next to her, openly staring. She offered a tentative smile.
"Who're you?" he asked.
Her smile vanished. She looked at her lap.
"Hey, girl." He tugged her skirt again. "I'm Frodnar. Why're you all dirty? You got mud in your hair."
"She's my friend," Ralof announced, returning to the table. He set three candles before them and met the girl's eyes when she looked up at the word "friend." His expression was kind.
"But don't pester her too much. She doesn't feel like talking right now."
The girl blinked at the words, so simple and yet understanding, but Frodnar had already moved on to a new subject. He pointed at Ulfric with an obvious wariness, staring at him while addressing Ralof.
"Who's he?"
Ralof put on a proud expression. He'd brought a matchstick along with the candles, and he took it now over to the hearth to catch some flame to the tip. "That's Ulfric Stormcloak."
Frodnar went still. His eyes grew huge. "Stormcloak?" he exclaimed. He rushed up to the table and plopped his hands onto it, head whipping from one man to the other. "That's like you!"
"That's right," Ralof confirmed proudly. He took the matchstick to the candles and began lighting them. "He's our leader. He's going to be High King, and I get to help him."
Frodnar continued to exclaim in amazement while Ralof sat and humored him. Ulfric beckoned the girl to extend her bad arm so he could examine her shoulder wound. It didn't seem to be bleeding anymore, most likely because she hadn't been walking for the past hour.
"I can't say for certain until it's been cleaned," Ulfric began, "but it's still likely you're going to have to let someone stitch this up. It won't heal properly."
She pulled her arm away, sick at the thought, and he let her. He knew she wouldn't have much choice.
They remained where they were for a while, Frodnar filling Ralof in on all the things he found worth mentioning about life in Riverwood. He was particularly keen to describe all the riveting aspects of owning his first dog.
"I got to name him, Uncle Ralof.
"That's a big job. What did you pick?"
"Stump."
"Stump?"
"Yep. He always pees on the old stump by the garden. It's his spot."
Ralof stifled what would have been a most insulting laugh. "Fitting."
He was spared further commentary when the front door opened. Two adults entered the house, one of them the burly Hod (why were all these men so big, anyway?), and he quickly shut the door. The woman with him immediately sought out Ralof, ignoring Ulfric and the girl as she made a beeline for him. Ralof rose to his feet with arms outstretched.
"Gerdur!"
The woman raised a hand and smacked him right on the ear.
"What do you think you're doing showing up in your uniform in an Imperial-controlled Hold, you suicidal idiot!"
Ralof retreated a hasty step and rubbed the side of his head. "I'm being careful!"
"Careful!" She clipped out a laugh, hands in fists and fists on hips. "It's broad daylight! What were you thinking?"
Ralof glanced to Ulfric and the girl, his mouth pulling at the corners in what might have been embarrassment. For his part, Ulfric didn't look the least bit amused. The girl was too busy feeling like an unwanted intruder to consider laughing.
"I didn't have a choice, Gerdur. I can explain everything."
The woman retained her scowl, not satisfied, while her brother stubbornly stood his ground. Finally she sighed. She strode forward and threw her arms around him in a tight hug.
"I just worry. It's good to see you."
Ralof rolled his eyes for the benefit of the room, but returned the hug nonetheless. "It's good to see you too. Now, let me introduce you."
They released each other and Ralof turned her around, hands on her shoulders. Gerdur was a tall woman, blonde like her brother, with her hair braided back out of her face. Her eyes were faded blue, and sharp, with high-arching brows. She had fine lines around her nose and mouth that suggested she was used to smiling—or perhaps glaring and yelling, if thus far was any indication.
"Gerdur, Hod, this is … Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak," Ralof began, hesitating when his sister went rigid. Her eyes flew wide. A mortified splash of color sprang to her face and she released a noise that was practically a squeak. Her hands flew to her mouth.
"Jarl—Stormcloak—In my—"
Ulfric rose from his seat and stepped around the bench to extend a hand, the action only serving to shock Gerdur further. She gaped at the hand like she'd never seen one before. Realizing she was expected to take it, she did so delicately, as if afraid to touch him.
And here I let him actually carry me! the girl thought. I knew it was a big deal. What was he thinking?
"Pardon us for the intrusion," Ulfric said. He released her hand as Gerdur struggled to find words.
"No, we—Forgive me, I've been so rude, I never imagined—"
He waved away her concerns and looked over at Hod, still standing in front of the door, but now with a stunned look on his face. Frodnar circled around them to stand at his father's side and watch the proceedings with quiet interest. Ulfric inclined his head to them.
"We gave your son and husband a bit of a scare when we showed up without warning. And I'm well aware that my presence here is a threat to your safety. If anything, I should be the one asking for forgiveness." He turned back to Gerdur. "Please know that I don't take any of this for granted."
Gerdur shook her head rapidly. "If we had realized it was you, Jarl Ulfric, of course we would not hesitate to—We'd heard that you had been captured. That there had been an ambush in the south."
Ulfric grimaced. "There was. Ralof was there when it happened."
Gerdur whipped around to her brother. "You were captured?"
Ralof put a hand on her shoulder. "That's what led us here. It's a long story. We should sit down, and I'll tell you the whole thing. Ah, but first …"
He sheepishly moved his hand to his stomach. "It's been a while since we had anything to eat. Can I make a pot of stew?"
These seemed to be the magic words. Gerdur's flustered demeanor evaporated, replaced by straightened shoulders and an authoritative jut of her chin.
"Of course not! You think I'm going to make you make your own stew when you look like you've been stepped on by a giant?" She pushed her brother into the chair at the end of the table. She dusted her hands off, frowning at the dirt that had come off of him and onto her. Ralof had just settled into the seat when she grabbed his arm and hauled him back up.
"On second thought, don't sit down. You're filthy. Hod, take them out to that stream in the woods. I'd let you clean up in the river, but …" She trailed off and let them conclude the obvious, that they couldn't allow anyone from the village to see them.
"Can I go to the stream too?" Frodnar piped up.
"No. You're going to help me make some supper."
Frodnar whined in protest. His mother was about to snap a response when she finally noticed the girl and paused. She gestured in her direction.
"Ralof, you forgot someone?"
The girl stood hastily—a bad idea, because the motion was accompanied by a wave of lightheadedness. She caught herself on the table.
"She looks awful!" Gerdur accused, addressing Ralof. The girl looked up to see him opening his mouth, but Gerdur held up a hand to cut him off. "You can explain it once you're not trailing dirt around my house. What's your name, lass?"
This last she directed at the girl, who once again found herself freezing up. Gerdur waited. A crease formed between her brows when the girl simply stared back at her. Ralof cleared his throat.
"We're not sure who she is, actually. She got mixed up in the ambush somehow, and the Imperials thought she was one of ours. She hasn't said a word since they put her with us."
"She's injured," Ulfric added. "Arrow wound in the shoulder. Ralof says you're handy with a needle?"
Gerdur's face filled with sympathy, her eyes falling to the stained bandage around the girl's shoulder. She nodded. "Aye, I can help with that. And from the looks of it, your gown is ruined too. I can get you patched up and cleaned up just fine."
The girl shot an urgent look from Ulfric to Ralof, lest they actually condemn her to Gerdur's needle. Ralof nudged his sister with the back of his hand, prompting her to lean in as he lowered his voice. "She took an arrow for me, but now she's afraid of a few stitches. Go easy on her, will you?"
Gerdur looked at the girl in surprise. "She took an arrow for you? That's—very brave."
Ralof nodded. "It was gutsy, that's for damn sure. Think she saved my life."
The girl could only watch them with a frown, still feeling unduly credited by the act. She hadn't been trying for bravery. She was afraid of stitches, for crying out loud. Obviously she hadn't stepped in front of him out of courage. Brainlessness, maybe.
Gerdur clapped her hands together. "Right. New plan. Hod will show you men where you can clean up out at the stream. As for the lass who saved my brother's life, I'm going to run to the Trader and see what clothes they have that might fit her. In the meantime, Frodnar," she turned to grab her son with a stern look, "show her where the washroom is, and the two of you get to filling the tub. Hod can get started on some stew while I tend to this girl. Any questions?"
She didn't give anyone time to respond, gliding around the table to grab the girl's good arm. She snagged Frodnar while she was at it, tossing them toward the side of the house closed off by the curtain. The girl looked over her shoulder to see Hod leading the men to the back door. She felt a small hand take her own.
"Too bad," Frodnar said seriously. When she looked down at him, his big brown eyes were full of pity. "Mama's gonna make you take a bath."