Most of Riverwood and the surrounding area used the spring for private bathing, laundry, and lovers trysts. It wasn't a large pool of water, but it was deep enough that most people found it easy to swim and relax for a while. The small cave it hid away in was only a fifteen-minute walk from Riverwood, and it was complete with a small waterfall. Every time she came here she was reminded that there was no way she would find something like this in Whiterun its plains vast, mostly taken up by farmland.
Liv shed her sullied dress quickly and stepped into the cool, refreshing waters. She submerged herself briefly, she scrubbed aggressively, trying to get most of the debris off of her face and out of her hair. This was the first time this week she got to enjoy a full bath and her slightly forge burned face welcomed the chill. Liv relaxed back and floated for a while her skin breaking out in gooseflesh, sure that no one would be coming by anytime soon.
In a month it would be her eighteenth birthday and the seventeenth anniversary of her parent's death. Every year Severio would tell her the story of how Bandits killed them trying to steal their goods, and that her father fought them off as much as he could. Liv herself didn't remember anything from that fateful day but thanks to her rescuers she knew of some details. After two days in the early winter weather, a passing caravan of Khajiit's found her, fed her, and after some investigation, took her where she needed to go. Unlike the rest of Skyrim, Liv could never hate the cat-like folk, their kindness surpassing any rumors of their misdeeds. She never understood the need to ostracize them from society. Sure some were thieves, but then again so were men, elves, and orcs. No one was any better than the other.
By the time she swam over to the edge of the spring Liv's lips were starting to turn blue. She hauled herself to her feet and wrought as much water from her hair that she could as she walked over to the small patch of sun nearby and let herself warm up. Looking down at the reflection to her left she looked over her body, somewhat frustrated at what she saw. Liv knew she wasn't unpretty by any means, but she felt she lacked the femininity that the other women in Riverwood had. Her hands were rough like a mans, arms toned and strong. Liv ran her hands down her sides, sighing dejectedly. She was more Nord in appearance than Imperial, that was for certain. Liv always felt pear-shaped, modest breasts with a thin, toned waist and large, well-rounded hips. Freckles dotted her entire body like a thick rash, she felt her eyes were small, a nose too large for her face. Someone like her friend Camilla knew how to charm men, and was poised about how she held herself. Liv, on the other hand, would rather slam back ales and work with her hands. Because of this, many of the men she happened to meet were put off by her, knowing straight away she wasn't the graceful lady they could bring home to mom.
"How does Adrianne do it?" Liv said aloud to herself, thinking of the smith back in Whiterun. The woman was beautiful, happily married to a strong, good looking Nord, and most of all ran a successful business. She threw her hands down in self-pity and turned to slip into her dry, clean clothes. Noticing it wasn't her normal attire of men's breeches and a loose top to work in, Liv smiled, knowing Sigrid must have switched the bundle around when she wasn't looking. It was a pretty pale green dress, simple lacing in the front and sides. Liv made quick work of simply plaiting her hair back and exiting the cave with her dirty clothes.
The sun began to sink a little lower in the sky, giving her eyes a bit of a break. The forests around the cave were quiet except for the chirp of birds and insects, all in all, it was a pretty peaceful day. Liv looked forward to buying herself a bowl of Orgnar's delicious venison stew and a pint of mead, her mouth watered and her stomach gurgled with anticipation. She and Alvor sacrificed stopping for lunch so that they could finish up sooner, which in Liv's mind was well worth it.
She had scarcely made it to the path when she heard the heavy beat of wings above her, for a moment it felt like the sun disappeared behind a cloud. But when she looked up, Liv was stopped in her tracks. It glided through the air, over the river, its midnight scaled shining in the sun. As quickly as it appeared, it was gone, disappearing behind Bleak Falls Barrow. Liv fell back her heart nearly stopping, swearing loudly. "It can't be," she muttered to herself, stunned.
.
Liv ran the entire way back to Riverwood, and when she arrived, the village was abuzz with nervous excitement. Many of the citizens had made their way out of their homes and gathered around Hilde's house. The town crazy stood arguing with her son, Sven about seeing a dragon, which in turn lured in an audience. Sven was red with anger and embarrassment. Liv's blood ran cold, "It couldn't have been a dragon mother, I think you're seeing things again." He said, trying to convince both the crowd ad his mother of her delusion. Faendal ran up to Liv breathing heavily.
"Ralof is back," he whispered to her, "and he looked like he had seen a ghost. Gerdur sent me away, and he brought another soldier with him." She snapped her head in his direction, trying to look over her shoulder at the small group forming by the mill's side. Watching Gerdur quickly usher her brother and another Stormcloak out of sight.
"I wonder what for? He never visits," she whispered back, trying to grasp at what was happening.
"I saw it, Sven, flying over the Barrows. He was black and larger than the sun!" Hilde nervously shouted at him, her voice wavering with fear. The poor old woman was paler than usual and visibly shaking, Liv placed a hand on her stomach in shock.
"I saw something fly over the Barrows Faendal," the elf stared at her in shock, "I am not saying it is a dragon but it looked like something awfully close. He was coming from the direction of Helgen."
"That's where Ralof said he was coming from," Liv raised her eyebrows at the elf who had a hand on her arm, gripping it almost painfully tight. "Something is going on Liv, I don't like it." She shook him off and quickly made her way back to the house, keeping one eye on the small crowd formed around Hilde and Sven. Faendal stared at her with wide eyes as she opened the front door.
Before she knew it someone had her pressed against the wall beside the door, slamming it and locking it loudly. She let out a small scream before her mouth and nose were covered by a large hand. Looking at her attacker she tensed up, he was a young man with shaggy brown hair, donned in Imperial armor he pressed a small dagger to her throat. "Who are you?" he growled low, Liv's eye wide and fearful. Alvor came up quickly behind him, throwing the young man back.
"Hadvar! This is Liv, my apprentice. She means no harm." Alvor stood between them while Liv caught her breath. Hadvar's face softened slightly, his brows remaining furrowed. "She can be trusted, try not to stab the poor girl." Sigrid rushed over to Liv and took her in her arms.
"As long as you're absolutely sure Uncle." Hadvar's eyes never left the young woman, he was suspicious of her and Liv tensed, wondering if he too came from Helgen.
"Are you alright?" Sigrid said trying to turn Liv to look at her, and not Hadvar.
"I saw something, flying over the Barrow, any idea what that might be?" Liv questioned the soldier, her tone accusing. His gaze abruptly changed from anger into fear, this putting the entire room on edge. He motioned for them to all sit around the table, where Sigrid brought him a tankard of what Liv assumed was something stronger than water.
"There is a dragon in Skyrim," he said after a long moment, Liv stared at him with fear settling in her belly. There was no mistaking what she saw now.
"There hasn't been a dragon in hundreds of years!" Alvor exclaimed loudly.
"Keep your voice down." Hadvar seethed, "we were in Helgen, Tullius, Rikke, two dozen soldiers, and I. Escorting a few carts full of Stormcloak prisoners, one of them being Ulfric fucking Stormcloak himself."
"What was he doing this far south?" Alvor leaned onto the table, his hands clasping Sigrid's, she was white as a sheet and gripped him firmly to steady herself.
"We think he was trying to stake claim to the camp in Falkreath, or maybe even make a statement to Whiterun hold. Either way, we caught him and put him up to be executed. The dragon came suddenly and killed most of my men. Interrupting us." Hadvar slammed a fist down on the table, " I don't know who got out of the before Helgen burned to the ground. I scarcely got out of there myself. I just know that bastard Ulfric escaped, he must have had something to do with this. The Stormcloaks must have something planned." Liv stared at him, her jaw clenched.
"It must be him and those blasted Greybeards. They know all about Dragons, and I am certain that they found a way to bring one back." Alvor's tone was venomous, he hated Ulfric almost as much as the entire Empire. Hadvar nodded in agreement, while Sigrid and Liv sat there in silence. The gravity of the situation weighing heavily down upon them. "What will you do next Hadvar?"
"I should rush to Whiterun, it is neutral ground and I would rather not run into Stormcloaks alone." He muttered, taking a swig from the tankard. Hadvar's hands trembled.
"Liv will get you situated and ride with you first light, she knows the off beaten path. Hopefully, it will allow you to go unseen from any prying eyes." Alvor half suggested, half told the young girl. She only nodded, looking over at Hadvar. "I have clothes you can use, and provisions for the trip, it should only take you half a day to get to Whiterun."
"If we take the side roads we will be there an hour before suppertime," Liv corrected, "But I will make sure we get there almost unseen. My uncle is loyal to the Empire, and will host us if needed." Alvor nodded and stood, making his way to the dresser. Throwing more mundane clothes at Hadvar.
"Change. Keep a low profile if you can, we can't have the town finding out that Ulfric is loose and around Riverwood. It may cause some nerves to be frayed. Do not tell a fucking soul what you two have seen." There was a slight hesitation from Hadvar and Liv, "swear it." Alvor said from behind clenched teeth, the two nodded.
"Rest up in the bed Hadvar, you look exhausted." Sigrid quickly got to her feet, ushing her nephew to the bed.
"Liv, go to the tavern," Alvor thrust a small bag of coins in her hand. "Eat, drink, laugh with your friends. But be home before late"
"Alvor. Before I go, you should know that Ralof is in town, he brought another soldier with him," Liv warned him in a hushed tone.
"I will keep Hadvar here. The last thing we need is the two of them have it out with each other in the streets." He whispered, "I worry that Ralof may be out for blood," turning Liv and pushing her towards the front door. The two walked out, Alvor bringing his Dorthe back into the house. The young girl looked at Liv curiously, who just shot back an unconvincing smile. The small crowd around Hilde's dissipated and all seemed back to normal. It was as if nothing had happened, so Liv smoothed out her dress and undid the plait in her hair, letting it hang free against the small of her back. She took a few deep breaths, hopefully bringing the color back into her face. With that, she made her way towards the Sleeping Giant, coin in hand.
The stew wasn't as rich as Liv thought it would be, and the meat tasted sour in her mouth. From the looks of Faendal and Camilla at the table, though Liv knew it was just her that felt that way, the two laughings at something Faendal was joking about. She found it hard to get the image out of her mind, the sound of wings beating high in the sky, the shine of black scales glistening in the sunlight, and the blood-curdling roar of a Dragon. Never in her life did Liv think she'd get to see one up close and personal, she longed to tell her friends. But, between Alvor's words and the reaction that Hilde got she knew it was futile.
Sven stood near the firepit, strumming a familiar tune on the lute. The inn was no more busy than normal, typical for a Morndas night. "Liv, we should go for a swim tomorrow!" Camilla said loudly, enough to break Liv from her train of thought.
"Wish I could, but Alvor has me heading to Whiterun tomorrow," Liv said, trying to look as disappointed as her friend.
"But why? Can't you wait and go the next day?" she pleaded, her full lips almost pouting. You could never tell that Liv was almost four years younger than her friend with the way she behaved, the cutesy act worked on the men, but Liv saw right through it.
"My uncle sent a letter. There is an emergency at the farm I guess, he needs me to help out for a few days." Liv lied through her teeth.
"Well, then you owe me big time when you get back!" Camilla frowned, "We never spend any time together, and I have so much I need to tell you!"
"Had Lucan found the Claw yet?" Liv took another bite of her stew, the warmth filling her belly.
"No, I don't think we ever will. He's too much of a chicken to go to the Barrows and get it himself. I told him I would go, but no, I must mind the store." Camilla huffed, pushing her half-eaten bowl away from her, opting to take a long drink of wine. Faendal hung on her every word, Liv rolled her eyes at him. "But maybe I'll just hire someone when he isn't looking. I'm sure it can't be that hard…" Camilla paused, getting a glint of mischief in her eyes, "or maybe I will just go on my own."
Liv chocked on her food, "You? She swallowed, "you couldn't even get to Whiterun and back without an escort! How do you expect to navigate the Barrows?" Liv laughed at Camilla's expression.
"Whatever do you mean!" she feigned offense, holding a hand dramatically to her chest.
"I mean I hate to say it, Liv is right." Faendal laughed, "I'd take you if you really wanted me to." Camilla ignored Faendal who was too busy gazing at the young woman through his dark lashes to notice that he put his elbow down into his half-eaten dinner.
"You know Liv, I think you should wear dresses more. Orgnar keeps staring at you like you're a two-headed beast." Camilla teased and Liv turned a lovely shade of red. Embarrassed, Liv looked down at her stew suddenly more self-conscious than ever.
'Last time I wear a dress.' Liv thought to herself sourly. Faendal quickly noticed her awkwardness and changed the subject towards order more drinks. She looked at him mouthing a quick 'thank you' while Camilla was distracted by Sven.
Faendal turned to whisper to her, "meet me by the mill when I head home. We need to talk." Liv felt herself grow cold, Alvor's words of warning echoing in her head.
Liv left around eleven at night, a little tipsy from the mead. Trying to fake a sense or normalcy for appearances' sake, Faendal on the other hand never fell for her rouse. Her friends opted to stay behind, Faendal promising to look after Camilla. Which to Liv really meant, 'I'm going to try and keep her from Sven,' but the look he gave her suggested she better show later.
When she got to the house she found Hadvar standing near the forge, looking out over the balcony towards the still lumber mill. The night was quiet except for the soft sound of rushing water. "Can't sleep?" she asked, startling him for a moment. Hadvar turned and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the woman.
"No, doesn't seem like it." he turned back as she came to stand beside him. Studying him for a moment in the moonlight he appeared older than he was, the war already taking its toll on him. "I owe you an apology, for threatening you before, I-"
"It's forgiven," she interrupted, "you've been through a lot Hadvar. I can't imagine I would do much differently if I were in your situation." He relaxed beside her a bit, peering at her from out of the corner of his eye.
"Thank you then," Hadvar struggled with small talk, that much was obvious to Liv. "My Uncle says that you've been here for a year now, then before that on a farm by Whiterun?"
"Yes, I was born in Windhelm, but my parents passed when I was a year old. I've been with my Uncle there ever since." she nodded at him, watching the weeds drift through the water.
"I'm sorry about your parents." he turned more to face her, and she looked up at him sideways through her lashes.
"I don't remember them, so it's okay. I appreciate your kindness though." Liv smiled half-heartedly at him, the forced pity always making her uncomfortable. She looked away and cleared her throat. "Alvor has told me though, that you and I are from similar backgrounds. Though yours were lost to war."
"Aye. Though I have the curse of remembering them more vividly then you're able," he said solemnly. Liv knew that she was lucky in this, as she knew that memories sometimes cut much deeper after a great loss.
"They'd be proud of you, you know. I know Alvor is," Hadvar began to smile as she continued, "I don't think a day goes by your uncle doesn't sing your praises. When you write... Oh, I don't think there is a happier man in Riverwood. But don't tell him I said that, you know that man had a bigger ego than Ulfric Stormcloak." Liv hesitated, cringing a little as Hadvar flinched at the mention of Ulfric's name. "I'm sorry, I didn't think."
"No, you didn't." Hadvar's lips pursed in the thin line. She grimaced, tempted to excuse herself after that. But before she could fully turn to go, he grasped her forearm gently. "It's not your fault, I know that. You can't know what happened, not completely." She instinctively placed a hand on his arm as he chided himself. "I need to be better tempered if I plan on being a General someday."
"You can tell me if it will help." She said barely above a whisper before removing her hand. He nodded, letting her go and resumed staring back out over the balcony.
"You know, you're not so bad for a Nord," he said playfully and Liv grinned, feeling a heat rush to her cheeks.
"Half Nord you mean." she elbowed his arm.