A/N: I do apologize for my lack of updating. This chapter took longer than expected with going into the unknown and away from the Game's storyline. I do hope that it is sufficient to satisfy those that want a change from the ever repeatable events that I am sure we all have completed numerous times.
Eventually, I hope to compose the song that I have written in this chapter. I'll keep you all updated if I ever get around to doing it.
Chapter 4 - Constant Uncertainty
"You're as strong as a mammoth," Gerdur praised as I threw another log for the saw mill. "I can see why Ralof wants you to join the Stormcloaks, no man could stand against you."
I gave a hearty laugh as I leant on the dwindling wood pile. "Let's not go that far," I muse, "there's a big difference to throwing logs and fighting with a sword."
It had been a week since I had woken up in Gerdur and Hod's garden. Their kindness towards me was immeasurable. Apparently my heroics in Helgen from Ralof's account were worthy enough to let me stay and eat from their table. That was a debt I couldn't let slide, I told them I would work for my keep and insisted on the matter until they both agreed.
I was informed Léna had gone to Whiterun to warn of the dragon attack and hopefully bring back soldiers to fend off the beasts. I would wait for her return. I wanted to thank her, not just for getting me out of Helgen but also from what Gerdur had told me. She had saved me from a disease then healed me with her own magic. I could still see the scars of the wolf attack but that's all they were, scars. No infection, no amputation, just raised teeth marks along my forearm.
Gerdur handed me a bladder of wine and I took it willingly, the fruit was still strong and made it so much sweeter after a hard days labour. "Take this too," she handed me a large satchel that jingled with gold coins. "You've more than earned you're keep here and it wouldn't feel right if I kept all the earnings from the Jarl."
I weighed the bag in my hands, contemplating the amount I had received. "You sure?" I asked, "there's more here than what Faendal gets.
Gerdur scoffed at that, "that elf only works when he can't make anything from his pelts." She pushed my hands back, "you've hunted and worked for us, that's more than I hoped for, take it."
I thanked her over and over until she shooed me off. I was so elated with my money I strutted down the main road past Alvor's forge, the smithy's hammer ringing like a metronome and my feet stamping in time to the rhythm. Engrossed with my thoughts I didn't see the young Nord girl running towards me. The wind knocked from my lungs as she charged into me, arms locked around my middle. "Jarek!" Her chirpy voice filled with excitement.
"Careful young lady," I gasped, staggering to regain composure. "You might hurt your self running in to people like that."
She giggled happily taking me by the hand, "are you going to the forge to help Papa?"
A smile played across my lips, no rest for the wicked. "Well, why not?" I shrugged, letting the girl drag me towards the warming furnace and growing peal of hammer on anvil. "The sun is still high and I could always use another lesson from my astound teacher." I winked at her, drawing another giggle from the young Nord.
I stayed there for the rest of the afternoon, relishing the force from my arms as I moulded steel into crafts of war. I loved this work, my muscles flexing as hammer made contact to metal. Hard labour mixed with creation, almost an art form in my eyes. Dorthe, the young girl sitting on her father's knee, bouncing and swaying as my hammering rang it's long then staccato tolls. An old habit came back to me as I continued my procession, the steel sounded its rhythm and my foot began to tap between the clustered strokes, music.
Oh come all ye willing and give me your ears
There is a tale that will pass through the years
A land of beauty, a land of snow
A land I've found that none will know
I've travelled through forests and rivers abound
Through planes of grass and mountains around
A land of beauty, a land of snow
A land I've found that none will know
Take me on ventures and open my eyes
Show me a world that I can't deny
A land of beauty, a land of snow
A land I've found that none will know
Through myth and knowledge the fates are for
Taken on sunder to their mighty roar
A land of beauty, a land of snow
A land I've found that none will know
My song doused as the blade hissed in the basin. Dorthe clapped adoringly, snapping Alvor from his own trance. "Again, again!" She squealed in delight, "sing another one."
I laughed and tousled the young Nord's hair, "maybe another time, its gotten late." I look up to the darkening sky, the two moons still unnerving me that I was not on earth anymore.
Alvor clasped me on the shoulder, his fingers cold on my sweat covered skin. "You sing better than that poor excuse of a bard, maybe you should take his place at the Sleeping Giant's." He contemplated, stroking his auburn goatee. "Where'd you learn such a song?" He inquired, "oldest we know of is 'The Tale Tongues' and that hasn't been sung since Tiber Septim's time."
I shrugged in response, "it just came to me, more of my own coming to Skyrim through new eyes." I could not tell them where I was from, none would believe the technical marvels, let alone how I got here.
I bade Alvor goodbye and was forced into another hug from Dorthe confirming I'd be back on the morrow. I needed to eat and a beer wouldn't have been bad either, so I entered the only tavern in the village. The 'Sleeping Giant' inn was tranquil to say the least. A handful of patrons and the so called bard as they referred to him. Sven sat nursing an ale, a scowl upon his unblemished brow.
I took a drink and sat next to the brooding Nord. "What's got you in a knot Sven?" I asked cheerfully, "surely you're singing isn't that bad?" Hoping to bait him from his sombre mood.
"Make your jests Jarek," he scoffed, "a brute that hauls logs and bangs steel wouldn't know the first thing about music."
Gotchya! I grinned wickedly, fighting the temptation to just rip his lute from him. "Do I sense a challenge or are you too hung up on Camilla and Faendal?" I prodded his ego. After our little scuffle a night ago, Sven had written no more notes and his bruised face were the only signs of my defiance from being a damned messenger.
He glowered further into his cup and finished the remaining dregs. Turning to me, his eyes narrowed and breath stank of drink. He stood abruptly to his feet, cradling his head and swaying very unevenly. "I… I don't need to take this from you, " he slurred, "I trained at the 'Bard's College' and proved myself as a graduate." A proclamation as he puffed out his chest.
I sigh and take him by the shoulder, "you've had enough Sven, go home." I didn't want another brawl here, Delphine the innkeeper had made that quite clear.
He stumbled out the door with more muttering, scorn riddled all over his face as he looked at me. I crossed my arms and stare down at him. "Beat it, before I give you another hiding that your mother has to nurse you for." I barked.
I watched him quickly retreat back to his home, slamming the door behind him. That's right, let mummy know that the big brute tossed out a drunk. I stayed there a moment watching the veranda, something didn't feel right. It was never this quiet outside a pub.
I was bumped by a humanoid figure, taken aback I glared at the new entrant. "So sorry stranger, I didn't see you." His hiss on every 'S' irritated me.
"What do you want?" I declared, readying myself in defence.
The hooded figure blanched away and raised his arms in surrender, "I only want a drink from the long road," his voice coming like a rasp. "I do not mean to offend."
I grunted in response and traipsed back into the warmth A silence fell as I entered, all eyes upon me as if I would attack any patron within arms reach. From the wooden bench I snatched my tankard and downed the mead, a loud exhale escaped me as I placed the cup and a few drakes in front of Orgnar.
He scrutinized me as the mead was poured. "If you're wondering about Sven, " I said loud enough for all the eyes behind me to hear. "I didn't lay a finger on him."
"Good," I jumped at the response, spinning to find the small pub owner behind me. "Otherwise I'd run you out of town," A scowl marked into the woman's hard face.
"Christ almighty Delphine!" I held my hand against my chest and tried to regain composure. "Don't sneak up on me like that." Her eyes sharpened even more so, scrutinizing my every movement. If looks could kill, I mused, taking a swig from my awaiting mead.
I stayed close to the fire, warming my still bare upper body from the night's growing chill. The figure I had had a confrontation with entered slowly after, hesitant and ever watchful. His hood still drawn and cloak draped to the floor, not uncommon for strangers passing through Riverwood but this one didn't sit right. What are you hiding?
I glanced at him occasionally between sips of my drink, pondering whether to approach him again. He sat in the darkest corner of the inn, melding into the shadows, barely moving as patrons whisked here and there around him.
Seeing my mug empty, I contemplated I was just being paranoid. Too much alcohol does that to a man. I handed Orgnar the tankard and bade all the customers good night, watching the stranger as he shifted to see me leave. My eyes narrowed out of reflex, a burning sensation to charge and throttle his neck came and passed. Not my problem, I sniffed and found my way back into the evening light and the welcoming and sobering cold.
I laid my head onto the make shift pillow. Staring up at the roof of Gerdur's saw mill, wanting to sleep but not daring for the nightmares that had plagued me since coming to Riverwood. Wading through smoke, chasing what I could not see and that voice. Maddening but yet, so familiar. What am I supposed to remember? How can I find if I don't know what I'm searching for? Questions I could not utter to a soul, knowing none would have an answer but a judgement of my sanity. Eyelids heavy, I sigh in my attempt to restrain the coming stillness of sleep. The peaceful darkness enveloping me.
I am standing at the edge of a lake. Bodies scatter the surface, bellies bloated from decomposing. I try to turn but I cannot take my eyes from the horrid sight. All of them women, no men or children. A corpse drifting towards me makes me shudder from my core. A knife protrudes from her chest, intricately made with markings of unknown design to me.
I then see the unmistakable shadow of my dreams. Again, it cocks its head and stretches it's arms wide as if to embrace the very essence of our surroundings. "You were here but you were not, you saw but you do not see." Its voice chilling my very fabric of being.
I begin to wade out to the apparition. "Why do you speak in riddles?" I demand looking at the dead women around me. "Did I kill these people?" I ask, a hint of hysteria lacing my tone.
The shadow remarks on my questioning, brooding it replies. "Indirectly."
Vanishing, I am left standing alone. The bodies drifting by me, women I should know but can't remember. People I've killed but not by my hand. I crouch to the water surface, tearing at my face as I try to grasp at memories I no longer have. "WHO AM I?!"