Chapter 4: Helgen Underground

[17th of Last Seed 4E 201]

Together with the petite Bosmer, who had been saved from execution by Alduin in the nick of time, I had managed to find cover in the Helgen Keep with Ralof, the Stormcloak, and I just had had to kill a person, which made me almost sick, even knowing that it had been self defense.

Once we had recovered, we hurried down to the torturer's room and cleared that area, and at least I did not have a bad conscience about helping to kill the torturer, specifically after he had said something about being happy to get a tiny wood elf to 'work on'. Now we also had a few more Stormcloak soldiers with us, which should help if or rather when we encountered more Imperials. I contributed to healing the injured warrior, and, like in the game, Ralof pointed out one of the cages:

"Wait a second. It looks like there's something in this cage. Ah, it is locked. Why don't you try to get it open with some picks?"

Indeed, one of the large cages arranged along one of the walls had a corpse in it, and it might be good to check for valuables. Thus I obliged, grabbed a few lockpicks I found on a table next to a book titled 'The Book of the Dragonborn' and tried to unlock the cage with the dead mage in it. Unfortunately, there was no enlarged interface making this task easier, and I found it so much more challenging and difficult to work with the tiny lockpicks than it had been in the game. After four or five attempts and the same number of broken lockpicks I gave up and admitted defeat; lockpicking obviously was not my thing, and maybe my hands were just too big for such a task, or I just lacked the patience, or both. Frustrated I picked up the book instead and put it in my bag. Now Fiona took a lockpick and had the lock open in mere seconds, smirking at Ralof and me. Then, like she had just realized what she had done, she looked up and asked nobody in particular:

"Why was I able to do that?"

I did not have an answer for her. I neither recalled if lockpicking was a racial perk for wood elves nor if it depended on something else; maybe it was just a benefit her small hands and nimble fingers provided for her, and the standard racial starting bonuses might not apply to her anyway; I wonder if they applied for me? I would want to find out about that later on, but I did not really recall much about the racial perks and preferred skills. For those data, I was mostly lost without access to some Wiki pages or similar; hopefully that would not matter much.

The dead mage in the cage had a small coin purse and a magicka potion, which I took. I noticed a book there as well, but decided that one book was enough for now. Rather, as Fiona was still dressed in rags, I suggested:

"Fiona, the dead mage in the cage is not very tall; why don't you see if that robe fits you?"

She looked at me like I was crazy:

"Are you serious? Taking clothes from a dead person?"

Ralof tried to explain:

"Elf, you really may want to reconsider; the robe may keep you warm at least."

I would not have minded to have such a robe on me, as I was still clothed in just the few rags I had been in earlier, but the robe in the cage was way too small for me; at least I had my fur, though. Fiona pondered her options for a few seconds, and when she looked down at her own body, she probably realized that the rags she wore covered a smaller part of it than she likely preferred. So, I helped her to detach the robe from the corpse, she checked it carefully for dirt and stains, shook it out a few times, and slipped into it, keeping the rags as kind of underwear. As it turned out, the size was still a little bit too large, but better than nothing. There was nothing else to do here in the torture chamber, and thus we walked on and passed the row of empty prison cells. I barely paid attention to this area and was already thinking about what would be next, when Ralof suddenly called out:

"Look, there's somebody alive in there, I think!"

He was right – somebody was asleep on torn rags and some straw on the ground in one of the locked cells, covered by a dirty and partially torn cloak. That was not in the vanilla game, as far as I recalled; weren't those cells supposed to be all empty, maybe except for a corpse or two?

Fiona got one of the few remaining lockpicks out and swiftly picked the lock, and she opened the iron gate. The creaking noise woke the person, and when we looked closer we could see a tall and athletic young woman with ash-blond hair, most likely a Nord. She looked like a stereotypical Nord – Viking? – warrior lady, but why was she here?

One of Ralof՚s companions asked:

"Are you with the Stormcloaks?"

The woman rose from the ground, stood up, and shook her head:

"No, I am not. Why is everybody asking that? Are you mocking me again?"

"Well, we are Stormcloaks, and as the Imperials obviously locked you in, we just thought…"

Fiona spoke up now, in German:

"Du siehst fast aus wie Eowyn von Rohan, aber das kann ja wohl nicht sein."

{"You almost look like Eowyn of Rohan, but this is not possible, of course."}

The woman's eyes started to glow, she seemed to be taller all of a sudden, and she replied:

"I don't know who you are talking about, but my name is Freya the shield-maiden. I came here from Bruma a few days ago, and the soldiers just imprisoned me, saying that I must be with the Stormcloaks. They did not even bother to verify that."

"The border is closed now, isn't it?"

"Yes, it seems so, but I did not know that before."

"So, why did you come to Skyrim?"

"I have had dreams for some time, dreams about dragons and some person called 'Dragonborn'. I do not know who that might be, but as the dreams persisted, I decided to follow them, and they led me here, to Helgen. Strange, but a voice keeps telling me in my dreams that my destiny is going to be serving that 'Dragonborn' person."

"The Dragonborn? Who is that?" Fiona asked.

"I do not know, but in many of my dreams I had a petite young elf woman and a huge blue cat with yellow and red stripes come to me and help me find the Dragonborn, and here you both are; so, I am yours to command!"

"The Dragonborn, indeed" Ralof snorted. "That's just a legend of the past, and there is no Dragonborn alive now. Of course, with the dragon here in Helgen we could sure use one…"

"There really is a dragon around?" the shield-maiden asked with big eyes.

"Aye, there is, and this is not good at all; dragons were supposed to be in legends only. But we must hurry to get out of here!"

The lady's eyes glowed again from excitement, and she told us:

"All right, time to go! Let me get my armor and weapons; I think that they stored my equipment in a chest not far from here."

She managed to find and retrieve her armor from a chest in a niche close to the prison cell area and attached it on and around her body quite quickly; now she was no longer in rags, but wore a shining Nordic armor with sword and shield.

"Let's go!" she suggested while we all gaped at her. She looked just like Eowyn in the movies indeed, as Fiona had already noticed, with her shoulder length blond hair, pale skin and fitting armor, though said armor was rather on the skimpy side, and judged by her name the Nordic goddess with the same name had also influenced her looks. She was slightly taller than Ralof, with defined muscles showing on the many parts of her body not covered by armor, and she emanated confidence. Her armor radiated something almost like a magical aura, and I started to wonder if Akatosh had brought her to this world or at least this province, too, as support for the Dragonborn? I did not get a chance to pursue this line of thought any more, though, as Ralof insisted once again that we needed to go on, and he was probably right about that, too.

Of course we were not supposed to find the way out without any further obstacles. After a few more turns and stairs we could hear voices ahead.

"Imperials!" Ralof whispered after he had briefly glimpsed around the corner.

"Can we reason with them?" I asked him, also whispering.

"I doubt it, seriously" was the reply.

"Let me make an attempt, please!"

Ralof clearly did not like it, but he nodded, and I slowly stepped out into the larger room. The two Imperials who stood there saw me, and while they were surprised to see me and maybe intimidated at first by my size, I raised my hands and said:

"Peace! We all need to escape from the dragon, don't we?"

For a few seconds I thought that my approach might actually work, but then another Imperial soldier said:

"Hey, isn't that the big Khajiit who was supposed to go to the block?"

Before I had a chance to provide a response, the others drew their swords and attacked, so that I had to step back quickly. Freya, Ralof and the other three Stormcloaks rushed out from the passage and engaged the Imperials, and my chance was gone. So I needed to help them, and I just started to think how to do that best when an arrow whizzed past my head and only barely missed, reminding me that there were two archers posted across the small creek. One of them even wanted to make sure that all soldiers got the situation and shouted loud:

"Stormcloaks! Escaped prisoners!"

I hoped that archers might not be so formidable in close combat and ran ahead. Another arrow missed me when I made a quick jump, and I assumed what I hoped to look like an intimidating attack posture, with the axe raised in my right hand and flames building up in my left. I guessed that my attempts of intimidation either did not work at all or only for a couple of seconds when a third arrow nicked my skin now. I yelped from the pain, and more by instinct than triggered by a conscious decision I let flames blow from my left hand for a second or two, but aimed too low, so that I missed the archers entirely. My clumsiness, however, turned out to work out nicely, as the flames incinerated the oil slick on the ground, which I had missed to even notice. It just so happened that the two archers were caught by surprise, and the burning oil jumped over to them, whereas I barely managed to jump back to avoid being burned.

When I had made sure that the burning oil could not hurt me, I looked up again, and immediately I felt sick once more and my mind got another shock, as the two archers were now inflamed. One of them just stood there and screamed, and the scream stopped all too soon; probably the man had fainted. The other one, a woman, had jumped into the small creek in the center of the room and thus was able to extinguish the flames on her. That, however, only extended her life by mere seconds, as one of the Stormcloaks killed her before she got a chance to recover. I killed the archer next to me, also to stop his suffering, and the fight was over.

For a moment I needed to sit down on the ground. Sure, the five Imperials in the room had attacked us, and we had had to defend ourselves, but had it been really required to turn them into living torches? I had not even done that intentionally, but still. Ralof seemed to understand my troubles; he out one hand on my shoulder and told me:

"Hey, B'lushona, if you had not done what you did, they'd probably have killed you and some of us with their arrows; you know that, don't you?"

I knew that he was right and nodded meekly, but my conscience needed time to digest all of that. Meanwhile, the Stormcloaks checked the dead bodies for anything useful; Ralof offered me one of the bows, but I declined. I had no archery training at all, and my big paws had trouble even handling the weapon properly. Fiona joined us, and when she saw the dead bodies, including the one which had almost died from burns, I could almost smell her mind being troubled by that as well.

After resting for a few minutes, Ralof insisted once again to move on, and once we had lowered the bridge at the other end of the large room and were safely across, we in the advance team lost contact with the other Stormcloaks when the ceiling crashed down behind us. Alduin had apparently made sure that there was no way back, just as I had expected. Ralof shouted back to his comrades that we'd try to find the exit on our side, and we were on our own now. Well, at least there were still four of us, rather than just two like in the game – there was the petite Bosmer girl who called herself Fiona, the shield-maiden Freya we had found in a cell, Ralof, the blond Stormcloak, and myself.

The young wood elf was keeping her distance from me, and I somehow could understand her. While I had not yet found a mirror to look at myself, I could imagine that I looked somewhat intimidating and maybe even ferocious with my size and my predator like face. I had touched my own face a couple of times and noticed that my long and slightly curved corner teeth – canines? fangs? tusks? – were apparently clearly visible even when I had my mouth/muzzle/snout almost entirely closed.

Ralof was practical; he recognized that I was on his side, and that was good enough for him. But of course he had surely seen a few Khajiit before, whereas the girl, if her language was a reliable sign, might have been from Earth as well, and maybe she had never heard of Tamriel and its inhabitants before. If she had never played an Elder Scrolls game, seeing a Khajiit might appear to her like a wild beast which needs taming, even if it could speak. No, I could not be angry with her for that. And, of course, she had bonded with Freya right away, and the two of them were now always sticking close together; a few times I could hear the Nord՚s voice telling her about something. The self proclaimed shield-maiden had turned out to be nothing like the great warrior I had initially expected her to be, though. She could wield a sword, all right, but she was also clumsy, and Ralof had to intervene a couple of times to avoid getting her killed or at least injured. She was also afraid of spiders, as we found out. When we had to cross the spider infested cave section, she had sternly refused to proceed until Ralof and I had taken care of the spiders; naturally, I had been hit by poison a couple of times, but could cure myself with a potion I had found earlier. The potion had not healed me instantly, like in the game, but it worked more gradually, over several minutes; the taste was not very good, but it created a nice and warm feeling in my body while it spread its effect in me, and the pleasing feeling lingered for an even longer time.

I suspected that Freya had only had very basic combat training, and herself being shield-maiden was more wishful thinking than real ability. However, if Akatosh had brought or called her to this place, too – her dreams had surely not been coincidental – she might be good to keep around, and it was probably not my call anyway to judge her being here. Above and beyond that, she was a tall, pretty and athletic warrior and easy on the eyes, specifically in her shining and somewhat skimpy armor; that was something I did like to look at indeed. Being in a Khajiit body did, apparently, not in any way reduce my appreciation for beauty in human females.

Rather than trying to talk to the young Bosmer, I focused on the environment and used the caves for what they were supposed to be used in the game – as tutorial to get familiar with your own skills. I soon found that moving as a Khajiit was just fine; I did not wear shoes or boots, but my feet, or maybe hind paws, were obviously suited well enough for walking and running, also on cold stone ground, and even the occasional pebble I stepped on did not really hurt. Contrary to Ralof with his boots and Freya with her shining armor, I could also walk very quietly, and so could the Bosmer, too. I had picked up a rusty iron greatsword and realized that I could easily wield it with one hand rather than two; that could be useful later on, as it would allow me to either have a shield or use my left hand for a spell. However, as I was much more proficient with my war axe, I discarded the greatsword after practicing a little with it; I would surely have more chances to upgrade my weapons at a later time.

Magicka was not my forte, though. I could heal myself or others a little, as I had done after the fight with the Imperial archers in the cave section just before the drawbridge, after an arrow had embedded itself in my left arm, and I could blast fire for a few seconds, and that was it. Okay, I was not a mage, at least not for now, although I might be able to work on that later on. I had learned that it was a good idea to slow down from time to time to give my tiny magicka pool a chance to recover and refill. I had also learned that my size was helping, and judged by the looks I had received so far I might have an advantage when surprising enemies. Aiming for a quick kill, though, was going to be a problem for me; my kills so far – the captain, the torturer, and one of the archers – had shocked me, as I had never killed a person in my life prior to that day; I did not like the feeling at all. However, I had not had a choice here; while I had tried to offer a truce and state that we all needed to get out and we had the dragon as common enemy, they just had not listened, and we had had to defend ourselves.

Once we had managed to sneak around the sleeping bear, we soon got to the end of the cave system and finally stepped out into daylight again. After we had briefly ducked behind rocks as Alduin was passing high in the air once more, we all took a deep breath, and I asked:

"Okay, Ralof, that was that – what now?"

Of course I knew what he'd suggest, but I wanted to hear it from him as well, and he complied:

"We better clear out of here. My sister Gerdur runs the mill in Riverwood, and I'm sure she'd also welcome you and offer a warm meal and a bed at least."

"Well, considering what we've been through, that sounds tempting, so I will gladly come with you, and I assume that the two ladies also will not mind. How long will it take us to get there?"

Ralof looked up at the sky and replied: "It seems to be mid afternoon now, judged by the sun's position. If we walk briskly, we should be able to get into town just before dusk."

"Sounds good. For now, though, please excuse me for a moment."

My bladder needed attention, and I stepped behind a large bush and relieved myself, also taking the opportunity to examine that part of my body for the first time. I did not care about size right now, but I had no idea about a male Khajiit՚s private parts. No surprise here; my penis was partially fur covered, and I was happy to also notice that it was hidden between some skin folds when not used. Even without pants or at least a loin cloth, with all of the dense fur around my hips, I would not really look naked. On the other hand, getting dry after a shower was going to be a nightmare. Wait a second, they probably did not have showers in Skyrim anyway. Okay, note to self: have to find out about that later.

[Author's Notes: There is a mod on Nexus which provides a follower in Helgen underground - 'Sigrid Shieldmaiden'; here we have 'Freya the shield-maiden'.

As one can already guess from the failure in lockpicking, my hero will not be somebody who is or will be good in everything. He also struggles with terms and names from time to time.

I know of course that this part of the game, the Helgen Keep and underground, is intimately familiar for most of you readers, but I needed to cover that partially at least to point out that neither the narrator nor the Bosmer girl are real warriors and to show some thoughts and feelings. At least I tried to keep the old boring standard dialog to a minimum. I hope that you like it so far!]