Author's Note

After the 'super ultra seriousness' of the last two entries, I found the opportunity to insert a bit of light-hearted comedy now that the characters are no longer under the threat of impending death.

Also, I realize I never gave the ages of my characters. Edric is twenty, Ivar is twenty-three, and Beric is twenty-five. Apologies for not specifying that within the story itself.

Chapter Two: Riverwood

We stepped out into the light, and it was a relief to once more be outside. To feel the cool breeze against my face, and to no longer be forced to breathe the stale underground air of the cave.

That feeling was cut short by the foreboding flap of giant leathery wings. "Wait!" Ralof hissed, and a large shadow passed by, followed by another roar. I looked up to see the dragon flying away, and our relief at finally escaping was shattered as we recalled the horror we had just escaped from.

After the dragon had gone, Ralof explained that his sister owned a mill in Riverwood, and suggested it would be a good place to lie low.

Although we had narrowly evaded death, the mood on the walk to Riverwood was one of melancholy rather than triumph. Edric brooded over the lives he had taken, while Ralof brooded over the destruction of a town he was once familiar with, as well as the loss of his comrades. We had just sighted the first dragon in centuries, and only the Divines knew what that meant. I myself thought of Beric, and my new status as a possible fugitive - if I was ever recognized for the role I played at Helgen, the Empire would stop at nothing to hunt me down.

We walked in silence, on stiff legs and empty stomachs. Ralof stopped only to point out landmarks or to comment on our good fortune. The wall of Riverwood had just come into view when he spoke up again. "You know, you should go to Windhelm to join the fight to free Skyrim. You've seen the true face of the Empire today."

I looked at him with a quizzical expression.

"I'm serious." Ralof said. "All true Sons of Skyrim should, and you have your own score to settle with the Empire anyways."

"I wasn't born in Skyrim." I reminded him. "Besides, the woman who ordered my execution, and most of the men who imprisoned me, are dead. The score has been settled." Was he honestly trying to convince me to fight for a country I had only recently arrived in for the first time? Though Bruma maintained a strong Nordic culture, I wasn't foolish enough to believe that living there was the same as living in Skyrim. As sympathetic as I was to the Stormcloaks, and as resentful as I was to the Empire, that was not reason enough to join a foreign rebellion. "And how do you even know if Ulfric is still alive?"

"It will take more than a dragon to stop Ulfric Stormcloak." Ralof retorted, as if that was obvious. There was an awkward silence as we neared the village. Then, finally, he said: "It is a big decision. Take your time." He looked ahead at Riverwood's walls, coming ever closer. "I don't see any Imperial Soldiers. I think we made it here first."

We entered the village. Fortunately, there were few people in the streets, and those who were out were busy with work - nobody appeared to notice us. A good thing, because neither Ralof's Stormcloak Uniform nor my bloodstained appearance would do us any good. Though some old woman was shouting about how she had seen a dragon, and that a sign to quickly hurry along. We took a left, and crossed the bridge over to the mill itself.

"Gerdur!" Ralof called out as his sister came into view - a blonde woman in her early thirties.

"Brother?" Gerdur turned, surprised. "Mara's mercy, it's good to see you." The two siblings stepped forward and embraced. "But is it safe for you to be here? We heard that Ulfric had been captured." She looked towards Edric and I. "And who are they?"

"I'll explain everything." Ralof assurred her. "But we need a safe place to talk."

Gerdur and her husband Hod had found a relatively secluded location where we could speak, in the far northwestern corner of the village. There, we gave a full account of the events at Helgen, from how we were captured, to the appearance of the dragon, to our eventual escape. Both Gerdur and Hod had been in a state of disbelief, but then Gerdur did admit that she had seen it, and slowly came to accept it.

They told us we could stay as long as we needed, but Gerdur did have a favor to ask.

"The Jarl needs to know if there is a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenseless." She said, looking directly at me. I knew where this was going, and I didn't like it. "We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf, to send whatever aid he can. If you do that for me, I will be in your debt."

"Is that a good idea?" I questioned. "The Empire tried to execute me only a few hours ago. And I killed a lot of their soldiers on my way out." Edric gulped uneasily, and now that I had time to dwell on it, our actions hung heavily in my own heart as well.

"Jarl Balgruuf has yet to choose a side in the war." She explained. "Besides, if any Imperials survived Helgen, it is unlikely that will recognize you, and even unlikelier that they will end up in Whiterun."

Normally, I would have agreed. But unfortunately, there was still the matter of Beric - we had no idea where he was, or if he was even still alive. I had asked Edric on the walk to Riverwood, but he did not remember what became of him either.

I was about to say as much, but then Edric cut in. "We will do it." He said. I glared at him, but he continued on regardless. "There is one matter, though. Our brother Beric has gone missing. We don't know what happened to him after the ambush. If he escaped, he is a good tracker, and will surely follow our trail to Helgen. And since this is the nearest village, he will likely come here afterward. If you see him, tell him we were here, and will return soon. He has long dark hair, light skin, and carries a bow."

Gerdur nodded. "If he stops by, I will let him know."

I nodded reluctantly. I would have preferred to search for Beric immediately, but letting him come to us seemed to be the wiser choice. "We will set out tomorrow morning, then."

"I'll let them into the house and show them where everything is." Hod volunteered.

"Hmph. Help them drink up our mead, you mean." Gerdur quipped. "Give Ralof and Ivar some new clothes too. The way they are dressed will attract suspicion."

"Thank you for everything." Ralof said as Hod let us away. Edric voiced his own thanks, as did I.

"So, how big was this dragon?" Hod asked as we walked. "As big as a house?"

"As big as the Inn." I told him, as images of fire and ruin flashed before my eyes. I shook them off. Food was the priority now.

That evening, Hod made a potato and beef stew with bread on the side, with a few cups of ale for good measure. With our lack of a strong meal, he had been quite generous in preparing it. It was not enough to satisfy me, so clad in my new outfit, I resolved to venture off to the Inn, while my brother stayed behind to continue study the spell tome he had picked up in Helgen. Ever since Hod let us into the house, the only time he had put it down was when he needed to eat.

The Sleeping Giant Inn, it was called. I set foot inside, and was greeted to the sound of a bard playing Ragnar the Red. It was a song that was occasionally sung in Bruma.

I was about to order something between the mid to high price range, but then I remembered we were rather low on funds - we had only what we managed to pocket on our way out of Helgen. So instead I settled for half a loaf of bread and a cheap ale, which was better than nothing. It might not be the most sensible use of my funds, but I was starving.

The bard had just finished playing another song titled The Dragonborn Comes by the time I had finished eating. He then announced that he was going on break, and sat down at a table.

Out of curiousity, which was possibly brought on by a mild case of drunkenness (Beric always said I was terrible when it came to hold my ale), I lifted my flagon of ale and walked over to join him. "Where did you learn to play like that?" I asked him.

"At the Bard's College in Solitude." He answered. Solitude was, of course, Skyrim's capital city.

"I see. And what can you tell me about Riverwood?" I noticed the Innkeeper, a middle-aged blonde women, squinting at me in barely-disguised suspicion. I squinted back.

"It's a nice enough village. I work at the mill, but I come here in the evenings to perform. The people are... nice enough?"

"You have a problem with someone?" I asked.

He nodded bitterly, and his voice quieted down to a whisper. "Faendal. I'm trying to woo Camilla Valerius, yet that Elf keeps trying to wedge himself between us to take her for himself." The fact that he was confessing this to a complete stranger was odd - perhaps he already had a few cups himself? I wondered why he was whispering, but then I realized the Inn had filled up quite substantially in the past few minutes, so it was quite possible that one or both of the people he was speaking about were here now.

"And what do you intend to do about this Faendal?" I asked, though I had already lost interest.

"Well... I..." He appeared to be considering his next words carefully. "I've had an idea."

"Oh?"

"I've written this letter..." He pulled a folded piece of parchment out of his pocket. "I've written a particularly venomous letter, and signed it with Faendal's name. I just need someone to give it to her..." He looked to me. "I'll pay you."

That was a stupid idea. Not only because it wouldn't work, but also because it was a tremendous waste of good parchment and ink. Those things were expensive - they didn't just grow on trees. I should have justed refused. But against my better judgement, I accepted it anyways. "Where can I find Camilla?"

"She's here right now, the beautiful maiden with the black hair. But you should wait until tomorrow, when she is at the Riverwood Trader... wait, what are you doing?"

As soon as he gave her physical description, I stood, walked across the room to where Camilla was sitting, and sat down next to her. She looked at me in astonishment, but then I set the letter down in front of her. "Sven wrote this, and he wanted me to tell you it was from Faendal."

She opened her mouth, as if to ask a question, but then closed it and began to read. After a few moments, her expression turned to anger. "What? That... that jealous idiot. Did he honestly think I would fall for this?"

"He was going to pay me for it too." I pointed out. And her anger only worsened.

Sven came running over. "Wait, Camilla, I can exp-" But then she stood, grabbed her ale and splashed it in his face. While he was still thinking of a way to salvage the situation, Camilla stormed out of the tavern.

All eyes were on us, but Sven didn't seem to notice. He looked at me with a betrayed expression, but then betrayal turned to fury. Even in my inebriated state, I could tell what was coming, and I ducked under his punch. I then lashed out with my own fist, delivering a swift upper-cut to his jaw. He hit the floor like a sack of dirt. I hadn't earned the name Ironfist for nothing.

Then the disreputable little lute strummer kicked me in the shin. I dropped my flagon, spilling ale over the floor, and stumbled backwards onto the table behind me.

At this point, one of the locals, who was also quite drunk, mistook this for the beginning of a mass tavern brawl. Or perhaps he was itching to see it escalate to that point. He punched the nearest patron - a black-haired man whose resemblance to Camilla was uncanny - in the face.

Soon enough, the Sleeping Giant Inn had erupted into a true brawl. The barkeep Orgnar waded into the conflict in an attempt to restore order, but soon became indistinguishable from one of the participants. Delphine stood in the corner and gently pressed her palm against her face.

Despite my proficiency in fist fights, I did not actively wish to seek them out, so instead of joining in I limped out of the building as quickly as possible and found my way back to Gerdur's home.

Unfortunately, Gerdur didn't have any spare beds. The best she had managed was to lay down some fur and straw on the floor to act as makeshift beds. Still, it was better than nothing - we slept in worse on the road. I quickly found the one that was still unoccupied, and thanks to my exhaustion I was able to find sleep despite Edric's disturbingly loud snoring.

In the morning, we left Hod and Gerdur's home, ready to depart for Whiterun. My old outfit had been washed and dried by now, so I had wasted no time in putting it back on. They had also given us some coins and provisions for the journey, for which we were grateful. They, on the other hand, appeared to be thankful for our departure, an odd contrast to their previously hospitable attitude. Perhaps it was a relief not to have the extra mouths to feed. Perhaps they had heard of last night's brawl. Perhaps they suffered just as much from Edric's snoring as I once did. Who knew? At least Ralof's farewell was heartfelt. "Whether you join the rebellion or not, know that you two always have a friend in me." He said as we departed.

He was not the only friend I made. Before we left town, I heard an unfamiliar voice call out. "Hold on there!"

I turned to face this newcomer, a white-haired Wood Elf whom I had never seen before, but was quickly approaching me and smiling as if I was an old friend. "Faendal?" I ventured.

He nodded. "I don't know who you are, but I heard about what you did last night. Good work." Then he pressed about twenty or so Septims into my hand and walked away. That was certainly a nice change of fortune.

"Ivar?" Edric ventured after a few moments.

"What?" I asked, not quite in the mood to share the events of the previous night.

"I don't know what that was about, but this is something I would expect to see with Beric. Not with you." He smiled, in a rare display of humour.

"Shut up." I smiled back, before realizing this was the first time I had smiled in an entire week. I decided to change the subject to something that would interest him."What are you learning from that spell tome?"

Edric said nothing. Instead, he merely raised a hand, and bolts of energy danced between his finger tips.