Chapter 5: Coming Home

The body of a Khajit bandit lay on the side of the road, dripping with blood. He moaned periodically and did not dare move from his spot. I kept walking, my knuckles dripping with blood, not knowing my purpose in life anymore. There was not much else for me in this land of ice and war. I saw no viable way of getting gold anymore. Everything in life just seemed to make no sense anymore. I sat under a tree by the road, pondering what it was I could do next. I wiped the dried tears from my face and started messing around with the dagger I had on me. When I lived in my homeland of Argonia, I was quite the master of daggers. I tried a few tricks that still lived on in the back of my mind. The shining blade spun and twirled with each flick of my wrist. I stopped and thought for some time. Flashbacks flooded my mind. Some good, most bad. Many were from my childhood. I remembered the day my father had first shown me how to wield a blade. It was when I was a few years older than a hatchling.

The damp swamp air dragged down all life in the marsh. Everything from the plants to the trees sagged down in sorrow and joy. Insects rejoiced in the humidity and flew around in clouds of disease. I sat by the edge of the docks, my small scaled feet swishing and swashing back and forth in the murky water. It was one of the only places I could find peace and tranquility in life. Water always calmed me, just seeing how it had a mind of it's own. Each wave and ripple glided across the surface. Animals of all kinds made it their home. I felt a nibble on my toe. My eyes gazed down to see a small mudfish exploring the texture of my feet. I laughed at it's innocence and curiosity. It swam away only to be swallowed by a slaughter fish. I pulled my feet out of the water immediately, wanting to keep my toes how they were. I heard footsteps on the creaky wood of the dock. Heavy and firm were the steps, the steps of a hard working and stressed man. I turned to see my father in his armor that he kept under the floorboards of the house.

"Son, there's something we need to talk about…" he said in a sullen tone. I was stricken with feelings of worry.

"Have I done something wrong, father?" I asked in my high pitched voice. My voice always bothered me as a child. Everyday I hoped it would get deeper and mature like the voices of the elders.

"Oh, no son. You have done nothing bad." He chuckled a bit at my inquiry. "I just came to..uhh… tell you that daddy's going on a long trip." His voice deepened with sadness, I could hear it very clearly.

"Where are you going?" I asked. "Are you going on a vacation?"

He laughed. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. I'm going with some of the others from our village."

"Can I come?" My eyes lit up with happiness. I always wanted to do something special with my father. We'd done things before like fish and walk the trails of the swamp, but his mind always seemed to be somewhere else. Every night at supper, he had a grim and stressed look about his face. He and mother would always stay at the table after I had gone to bed. They talked about things, things that I could not understand. He spoke of "Imperials" and other terms I had no clue about. It always seemed he was filled with trouble. I'd tried to ask what bothered him so much and he just replied "Ah, I had a bad day hunting today is all. Don't worry, Has'kar. I'm perfectly fine" He'd say and force a smile upon his face. I knew something was wrong and that he didn't want me to know.

"No, I'm sorry son, but this is something only us elders can do." He replied. "However, there is something I wanted to show you before I go." He pulled out a small dagger and a sword that was hand crafted and engraved with many tribal designs of our village. "Today, I show you how to wield a blade." What luck! I always wanted to learn how to use a sword just like the elders do in their spare time. I grabbed the hilt of the sword and tried a few of the techniques I'd seen the others doing. My father stopped me.

"Whoa now! You don't want to go chopping off limbs just yet, do you? You can't just go hacking and slashing like a madman." He pulled out his own sword and showed me basic slashes. "See how my arm stays in a firm line when I slash? The sword must be an extension of your arm. It must flow with your body, your soul." He slashed more, starting slow and graceful, then faster and more vigorous swipes. I was amazed at the skills he possessed. I took into mind what he had told me and tried on my own. Again, my wrist wobbled and twisted with each slash, making the sword twist and turn. He stopped me and grabbed my arm. He moved it in the proper way for a few slashes. Then he let go of me. I kept going, slashing the same way he did. It brought a smile to my face.

"There you go! You're a fast learner, aren't you? I think that's enough for the sword." He took it from me and handed me a dagger with my name on the blade. "Let's try something smaller. Try using this with the same technique as the sword." I did as he said. "See how this blade moves faster? It's more efficient when you need to be faster than your foe, but not as damaging." He showed me a few tricks he had picked up over the years. I mirrored them in amazement. He smiled and patted me on the back. He then hugged me and told me he loved me no matter what. His voice grew distressed. I told him I loved him too and he walked from the docks to our hut by the lake. He hugged my mother and she cried for some odd reason. I could not hear what they said, but she walked with him to the entrance of the village gate. She bid him farewell and he went on his way down the path to a carriage filled with other elders dressed in armor. I asked another hatchling if he knew where they were going.

"You don't know?" He asked, puzzled. "They're going to the battlefront."

Battlefront? I didn't know what he meant in the least. "What battlefront?"

"Where we're fighting the Imperials, duh. Argonia's in a war, if you haven't noticed."

Everything suddenly made sense. I collapsed to my knees and started to cry. I didn't want my father to leave and die! I quickly got up and ran to the gate, hoping to stop it from going to war. I tripped on a dip in the road and lay there, watching my father ride away.

I never did see him again after that day.

My mind came back to me as I sat under the tree. I became focused on the world around me once more. I stared down at the dagger with my name on it and sheathed it. I got up and decided what I'd do. I walked the trails up to Windhelm and took the wagon to Solitude. I headed down to the docks where I received many foul stares from Imperial Dock Workers. I found an Argonian who owned a ship of his own. I was told before I left my homeland that if I ever wanted to return home, he would be the man to see.

"Hello, scale brother. Is there something I can help you with?" He asked in an old, raspy voice. He was dressed in a simple set of clothes, torn and ripped here and there. You could see indents on his horns and face, a sign of age in Argonian society. As we grow old, our horns grow more feeble and lines of crevices start to erode in. His scales were an oddly light blue, not as blue as the sun, just a little lighter than a standard dark blue. I was surprised that one of our kind lived to be his age out in this frozen land.

"Yes, my friend. I was told that you are the person to see about returning to Saxhleel?" I said.

"Indeed I am."

"I… have lost all reasoning in my mind to stay in this land…. I've grown tired of its ways. How much would a trip cost?"

"Normally, 500 gold. But for you, I'll knock it down to 450."

"That is very kind of you to do, but I will pay the full 500 gold anyhow."

He took the money from my hand with a warm smile on his face. He showed me to a room below deck that I would be staying in during the voyage. It was small and cozy, nothing fancy. An authentic piece of Argonian cloth was hung on the wall. I ran my fingers across it, seemingly flowing on its smooth and nostalgic stitching. I remembered a hobby of my mother's was to knit when father went off to hunt with the other adults. I used a blanket she had knit for me almost my entire life back in Argonia. I brought it with me to Skyrim. Two days in, it was ripped to shreds by a wolf. I sighed. Yet another thing that Skyrim had taken away from me. I thought about Derkeethus and said another prayer for him in Jel. I packed away my armor and weapons in the chests given. With no hesitation, I insisted that we set sail as soon as possible. Not long after, our sails were set and our heading was made. The only passengers on the ship were the captain of the ship, two Argonians that were his crew, an Argonian woman whom I had not talked to and another Argonian dressed in Bandit armor. I would have killed him had my conscious not told me that maybe he was returning home to change himself. As I stood on the deck of the wooden ship, with the water spraying in my face, I watched the mountains and snowy terrain of Skyrim grow ever so small. I knew that I was leaving part of myself behind by leaving Skyrim. There were many things I enjoyed about the land, things like drinking mead at the Inns, hearing tales from travelers about Dwarven ruins and caves they had explored, and listening to all the music that Skyrim had to offer. If it was not a nation built with blood and snow, it would be quite a good place to live. But, I grew weary of it, even still. I went below deck and lay on my already messed up bed. The next month of living on a ship would not be very easy for me.

Many days went on the same way. We all kept to our rooms most of the time, occasionally going to the upper deck for some fresh air. Little conversation was made with the other Argonians on board. Only one day, probably the 15th day or so, the female Argonian asked why I was returning to Argonia. I told her that Skyrim had left me as a shadow of my former self. She understood me to an extent. Her child died of starvation. They lived at the Windhelm docks and the Nords apparently treated them very badly to the point that they had no food. I agreed that the humans could be very cruel at times. We are all made of flesh and blood, yet somehow we are different. It shouldn't matter that we are "beasts", living beings are living beings. The humans just can't see that like we do. Maybe they aren't enlightened enough. Maybe we are too naïve. Whatever it may be, the world could do with some damn equality here and there.

The captain announced to us all one morning that we would be approaching Black Marsh that day. He needed not to tell me, as I could feel the climate change right as I awoke. The air was a muggy, humid consistency. The smell of the marsh was flowing through the air. The water turned to its dark hue that I was so familiar with. Many different fish swam through the waters, curious as to what the boat was. Sailing into Black Marsh that day was the happiest I had been in seven years. I could feel all the memories coming back, the anticipation of taking a step onto the damp soil. I would, for once in my life, receive a warm welcome from someone. At last, I could see the skyline of the Marsh. Massive trees and underbrush surrounded the small docking village that we headed to. As I stepped off the boat, a dock worker patted me on the shoulder and welcomed me back to the land of the Hist. I got my things and took a carriage to the town I grew up in, surprised to see it was still in existence. Many things rushed through my mind about what could happen. I thought about what would happen if I had met Juukravia. Oh, how I pondered what I could say to ever make her forgive what I had done. I knew it might never happen, but I wondered if I could make it up to her. I had a decent sum of gold from my time in Skyrim, we could build a home and start a new life, just her and I. My mind snapped out of the fantasy it was stuck in as I remembered my family. My mother had probably passed away, my father probably a rotting corpse with a blade in the chest. I never knew what became of my brother, Jiiktar. He went to Cyrodiil to make an honest life for himself. Only the Hist knows what became of him.

The carriage came to a rolling stop at the entrance of the village. It was exactly as I remembered it. The wooden path over the river into town was still rickety and faded as always. The animals were all making the same familiar sounds they had made when I was a child. I was finally home, where I belonged. I decided the first place for me to visit would be my old house. I crossed the village, waving to those whom I recognized. I came to my old home, but I saw something was not right. It seemed occupied. The doors were shut, some windows had ragged curtains and a few plants were out front by the steps. Something was indeed not right here. I knocked on the door waiting to see the asshole they had sold my family's home to. Then the door opened.

It was my father.

Words could not express what I felt at that time and moment. He looked exactly as I remembered him, down to every indent and scale on his face. He had a few new scars, but that was all I could see new. For a moment, we both just stood there, speechless. He finally said,

"….. Has'kar?" His voice was that of a humble man, overcome with emotion. I, myself, could not even say a word. All I was able to do was nod. He embraced me with the most comforting hug I could have ever received. Long had I waited to finally see my father again, never knowing whether he was dead or not. We just stood there, hugging in tears of joy. It was completely irrelevant at the time, but I thought to myself that I had cried a lot these past few months. As we let go, there was so much I wished to say to him. He put his arm around my shoulders and ushered me into the home I once knew. I was finally, finally home, where I belonged and where I would stay.

Fin