Chapter 4: Short Walk, Big Talk
"So, what now?" Art asked. They had been walking for about half an hour, and were almost to Riverwood.
"What do you mean? We are going to Riverwood."
"I meant after. Like, what's going to happen to me?" The Empire probably wasn't Art's biggest fan. He doubted he was going to be able to go back to living in the Empire controlled sections of Skyrim.
"Haha, worried about the Empire huh?" Ralof gave a hearty chuckle. "Yeah, I bet they aren't too fond of you, but after today I think they probably have bigger worries on their mind."
That was true. Art was willing to bet that the Empire would focus more energy into an escaped Jarl and a dragon attack then they would into an escaped Wood Elf. But still, he doubted returning to Helgen would be an option anytime soon, which meant finding Arysse would have to wait.
"Ok, well what's next for you then?" Art asked.
Ralof laughed. "It's probably back to Windhelm for me! Jarl Balgruf is going to want to regroup after this. This attack has probably thrown the Empire off balance. This could be the chance the Stormcloaks have been waiting for."
Art said nothing, and instead pondered this. Ralof could very well be right, and this could be the turning point for the Stormcloaks, depending on how Jarl Balgruf handled this. The Empire was spread thin as it is, what with the Thalmor and the Stormcloaks. Now that dragons had been thrown into the mix the Empire could very well collapse under its own weight.
"Don't worry friend, I'm sure you can find work in Riverwood. I know my sister will have no shortage of jobs to do." Ralof let out another little chuckle. "Speaking of which, we're almost there."
As they rounded the next bend Riverwood came into sight. It was a quaint little town next to a river, which powered a small wood mill. It had a few small stone walls and a couple of guards to offer it some protection, but the main protection it had was being a lazy little town in the middle of a valley at the south of Skyrim. That tended to keep it out of the public eye.
As they entered the town a woman came running towards them. She was a Nord, wearing a simple dress and a stock of hair as blonde as Ralof's.
"Ralof! What are you doing here? I thought you were heading to Eastmarch with the Jarl?" She looked at Artoov. "Who's this?"
"Slow down Gerdur. I can only answer one question at a time. To start, I was heading to Eastmarch but we were captured."
"Captured? By the Imperials? How did you escape?"
"Again with the questions. Aye, it was the Imperials that captured us. As for my escape, it was greatly facilitated by him," he gestured at Art, "as well as a dragon."
"A dragon… by Ysmir, the murmurings were true." Her brow furrowed as she pondered the new information. "Ralof you must go to Whiterun, someone must inform the Jarl!"
"I cannot, I'm afraid. I must return to Windhelm and regroup with Ulfric. We'll need to plan our next move. My friend here may be able to help you out, however."
Gerdur turned towards Art. "Oh yes, I don't believe we've been properly introduced."
"Now that you mention it, I don't think we have either." Ralof chuckled. "Guess a dragon attack leaves little time for pleasantries."
"My name is Artoov Granaen. Art for short."
"Well Art, Riverwood would greatly appreciate it if you could help us in our time of need."
"I'd be happy too, but maybe after a quick rest and a warm meal. Running from dragons and Imperials leaves a man with quite an appetite."
"Of course. You're welcome to our home, and everything in it. I'll take your gear to the blacksmith to have some work done while you rest." Gerdur held her hands out to take his gear.
Art unclipped his sheathe from his belt and handed over his sword. Gerdur took it, then gestured for Art to follow her.
"This way. I'll put some soup on while you rest, then when you're ready I'll point you to Whiterun."
Art followed along behind her, looking forward to his first rest in what felt like years.