Loredas, 21st Morning Star, 3E 347
From the ashes of the fire from the Empire,
A lone babe found under roots of the Falinesti.
Peace will be infrequent and fleeting,
The wandering city will be finally rooted.
Horizons of reddened ash shall foretold,
While the black gates test the worthy.
The true Voice will prevail at any cost,
Through the unseen and most unlikely.
Not all those who wander are lost.
...
Mondas, 17th Last Seed, 4E 201
The sound of hooves; she was steadily rocking – where was she? She shivered violently, gods she was cold! A blonde man, hands bound, face weary, came into view. Who was he? It took her a moment to realise that he, and the world, was lopsided. Was she lying down? Everything was blurred, she couldn't see straight.
"Hey, you, you're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border right? Walked straight into an Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." A rough deep voice spoke. The blonde man, he was speaking to her. He nodded towards the man next to him, who had a sour look on his face.
Ambush... just what was she doing? Everything was just so hazy. Crossing the border? That's right. She was wandering the North of Cyrodiil stalking her quarry, and the stag so happened to cross the border to which she foolishly followed into a heap of Imperial and Skyrim's native rebels, the Stormcloaks, bloody fight. Somehow she had been caught in the fray and mistaken for a rebel without getting a word in edgeways.
"Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy." The brunette man, seated besides the blonde, shot out, anger flashing in his eyes.
"If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." The thief turned to the small woman in the cart then, and spoke directly to her.
"You there. You and me – we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."
The woman remained silent, and observed her surroundings, taking note of everything important. She was in a horse drawn cart with three other prisoners. An Imperial soldier on horseback took up the rear and another cart of prisoners was ahead of them. They were travelling with the sun high, but still with the crisp morning chill in the air. She could see white topped mountain ranges in the misty horizon behind the tall barren trees of the woodland they were being carted though. The crystal white snow on the cobbled road glistened in the sunlight, reflecting off the Imperials steel armour.
The woman sighed. This was a place where she was not meant to be. Or was she? Only the Divines may know.
She was brought back to the present by the blonde Nord opposite her sighing loudly.
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." He said calmly.
"Shut up back there!" An Imperial soldier shouted from the front of the cart. No one paid him much heed.
"What's wrong with him, huh?" The thief asked, motioning to the silent man huddled in the corner of the cart next to the woman.
"Watch your tongue!" The blonde Nord spat vehemently. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!" He said with admiration in his blue eyes. The supposed Ulfric remained silent and unmoving, staring out at the road behind him.
"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion." The thief looked shocked. "But if they've captured you... oh Gods, where are they taking us?"
The blonde man hung his head and looked out at the small greenery the snowy trees had to offer from the road they travelled down.
"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits."
"No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening." The thief murmured in quick denial, stricken fear in his eyes.
Somehow, the woman seemed to be viewing this whole scene from a completely different viewpoint than the other prisoners. How many times had she done this now? How many times had she been bound and imprisoned with an uncertain fate? She found herself with slight déjà vu, and strangely detached from her situation.
"Hey, what village are you from thief?"
"Why do you care?" The thief spat, looking broken and sick at his evident fate.
"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." The blonde man spoke calmly, acceptance in his eyes, making the thief relax somewhat at his calm demeanour.
"Rorikstead. I'm...I'm from Rorikstead." He relented, sadly.
An official voice sounded from the road before them, picked up easily by the woman's elven hearing.
"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"
The elven woman looked around her; they were entering a village of sorts.
"Good. Let's get this over with." A weathered voice replied, assumedly the General's. Everyone in the cart heard it quite clearly.
The thief started to panic once more.
"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me!" He almost shouted in panic, eyes darting everywhere for an escape.
Silence fell over the cart with the thief's prayers. Each lost in their own private thoughts.
Was this really how she was going to die? After all she had done? She was going to be carted off, mistaken as a rebel? It was quite pathetic really. To whom should she pray? Y'ffre, God of the Forest? She doubted he would hear her voice, so far from home. She was alone. Completely and utterly, alone.
They were being driven though the village of wood and stone now. Villagers glared in open disgust, children peered out of stained windows as stony faced parents tried to shield them from view.
It was like parading the infected though the civilized.
"Look at him," The blonde Nord before her growled deeply, staring over her shoulder behind her. "General Tullius, the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn Elves. I bet they had something to do with this."
The woman across from him bit her lip at his remark to her race, but remained silent none the less.
The man sighed, calming himself, and looked around the village they were in.
"This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with the juniper berries mixed in..." The Nord mused softly and everyone listened in silence.
"Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe." He snorted at the irony.
Just then, a child's innocent voice was picked up from behind her, by the woman's enhanced hearing.
"Who are they Daddy? Where are they going?"
"You need to go inside, little cub." A male voice sounded from behind her also.
"Why? I want to watch the soldiers."
"Inside the house, now."
The echo of the slammed door vibrated though her pointy ears. Then she heard another voice. It was female, and viciously harsh.
"Get these prisoners out of the carts. Move it!"
"Why are we stopping?" The thief piped up instantly, terror edging into his voice.
"Why do you think? End of the line." The blonde Nord drawled, looking out at the village he had memories off from boyhood.
They ground to a creaking halt.
"Let's go, shouldn't keep the Gods waiting for us." The blonde Nord sighed, rising to his feet. With some effort, the bound woman managed to follow suit and stand.
"No, wait! We're not rebels!" The thief shouted, as one by one the prisoners filed out of the cart.
"Face your death with some courage, thief." The deep lullaby voice of the blonde Nord spoke from behind her, as she unsteadily jumped down from the cart.
"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" The thief panicked, shouting over his shoulder to the Nord behind her, as if he could do something to save them.
"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time." That harsh female voice sounded once more. The small woman peered around Ulfric, who was standing in front of her, and matched body with voice. She was a weathered and hard Imperial Redguard captain, full of scares and a blazing hate in her dark eyes as she viewed the prisoners.
"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." A brunette soldier called out from besides the Captain, slightly hesitantly. He held a quill and some parchment in his hands, ticking off the people who had already been called.
"It has been an honour Jarl Ulfric." The blonde man behind her said slowly, as the silent Jarl before her walked over to the ominous block of wood.
"Ralof of Riverwood.
She felt his warm presence leave from behind her as he too headed towards the block, and the gathering crowd.
"Lokir of Rorikstead."
The thief stepped forward in blind panic at the sound of his name.
"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" She could see his scrawny muscles in his back contracting and tensing though his torn rags. She knew what he was about to do next, and it was a big mistake.
Lokir took off in a sprint, back up the road they had just come from, drawing the attention of everyone.
"Halt!" The Redguard Captain screamed, spittle flying everywhere, her eyes flashing dangerously.
"You're not going to kill me!" Lokir screamed back. The small elf's heart raced, hadn't he seen the archers off to the side?
"Archers!" The Captain screamed in response. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a quick notch of an arrow, quickly for an Imperial anyway, and with a familiar whoosh, it embedded itself in the thief's back. His dying screams echoed in her head.
"Anyone else feel like running?" The Captain spat in disgust, turning back to her quarry with a renewed hatred in her eyes.
"Wait. You there. Step forward." The Imperial with the list said, staring directly at the small woman now alone next to the cart she was just in. With her head held high, she walked towards them both. She was not afraid.
"Who are you?"
With a soft spoken voice, that faltered slightly from disuse, the woman spoke up for the first time that day.
"Clear. Wood Elf." She offered no ties or titles, just her name and race, which made the brunette Imperial study her a moment longer than he did the other prisoners.
"Not many Wood Elves chose to come alone to Skyrim." He told her, as he made some notes with his quill. Clear remained silent; trying to ignore the hole the Redguard Captain was currently burning in to her head. If looks could kill, she would have been dead a long time ago.
"Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list?" He asked, unspoken hope softening his eyes when he glanced back at the Bosmer.
"Forget the list! She goes to the block!"
"By your orders, Captain." The brunette said in resignation, hanging his head slightly. "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are sent to Valenwood. Follow the captain, prisoner." The man said to her with genuine sadness in his eyes. Was that supposed to make her feel better?
With a numbness spreading over her whole body, everything seemed surreal as she followed the Redguard Captain through the crowd, towards the block. Clear came to a halt next to Ralof, who offered her a small smile in return.
"Ulfric Stormcloak, some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like The Voice to murder his King and usurp his throne." General Tullius was saying to the crowd, the gagged Jarl mumbled in incoherent response.
"You started this war; plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace." The grey haired general continued vehemently.
Something echoed though her. An ungodly, otherworldly roar... from within her very soul. Was this what the Nord's called the 'Call of Sovngarde'? She didn't know, but something was just...not right. Looking around, Clear noticed that no one else seemed to be affected in the same way. Was she going mad...again?
Another roar.
"What was that?" Someone asked from the crowd, everyone looked around in unease. Clear turned her crimson head slightly to look at Ralof besides her. He was looking intently at the Imperial General, not sparing a glance at the skies like everyone else.
"It's nothing. Carry on." The General said curtly, eyes hard.
"Yes, General Tullius!" The Redguard Captain saluted, sickly sweet adoration in her black eyes as she answered the Imperial. It made Clear want to vomit.
"Give them their last rites." The Redguard said, cold edge instantly back in her voice, as she addressed the Priestess of Arkay besides her. Said woman, garbed in yellow, held her arms stretched out to the blue skies and addressed the disheartened prisoners.
"As commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved..."
"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!" A Stormcloak soldier shouted impatiently as he stood by the block.
"As you wish..." The Priestess said whilst looking thoroughly offended.
"Come on! I haven't got all morning!" The soldier spat as he was forced to his knees. The Redguard Captain pressed her shiny silver boot to his back as she pushed the Stormcloak soldier roughly against the block, hatred blazing in her black eyes.
"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials! Can you say the same?" The man hissed with hatred, just before the bloody axe came down and silenced him.
There was silence.
Clear couldn't look away.
"You Imperial bastards!"
"Justice!"
"Death to the Stormcloaks!"
Voices, shouts and screams of rage, echoed around in her head. And something else...Something was pulling her, from deep inside, calling to her...Something was deadly wrong.
"As fearless in death as he was in life." Ralof's voice sounded from besides her, bringing her back to reality.
"Next, the Wood Elf!"
Clear's emerald eyes widened a fraction. She was the only Wood Elf there, there was no doubt they meant her. Was this it? Her death?
But there it was again...
Another roar. It was louder now, nearer. The voices... incoherent yet clear, more frequent now...Whispers, shouts...A shadow in the sky...
"There it is again, did you hear that?" Another member of the crowd shouted, terror gripping his voice.
The Redguard Captain's dark eyes locked with Clear's as she sneered at the small elf nastily.
"I said, next prisoner!" The Captain's hard gaze locked on Clear's reaction, smirking at the death she had condemned her to.
"To the block prisoner, nice and easy." Another Imperial said, eyeing her lithe form wearily.
With a stoic expression, Clear gracefully glided over to the block, head held high as she brushed past the Captain without batting an eyelid. She knelt gently on the dirt covered floor of Helgen, senses suddenly hyper-sensitive to everything around her.
Her breathing slowed, a horse stomped the ground somewhere behind her, its harnesses clinking lightly and she heard the soft 'whoosh' of air as a lone bird flew overhead. There was the sound of shuffling feet of the nervous prisoners and expectant crowed before her...all watching her.
She exhaled softly as time almost stood still. She could feel the harsh sun on her back, but the icy cold had long since numbed her limbs. Her neck ached as she pressed it to the block of wood, well aware of the wet coldness of blood that was not her own pressing into her skin, staining her rags.
Was this how she was going to die? She looked away from the crowd, turning her head up to look at her executioner. After all she had done, would her last sight be of a black robed Nord, raising an axe high into the sky?
There was another ear-splitting roar... and the whispers in her head turned to screams.
"What in Oblivion is that!?" She could hear General Tullius scream and the scraping of metal as swords were drawn, but Claire could not tear her eyes away from the bloody axe raised above her, blood glittering in the sunlight.
Then, just as she was about to give in, a huge, blackened shadow blurred her vision. A beast, unlike no other...
A Dragon!
An almighty dragon landed on the tower before her, the only thing her in obscured vision. Its ebony claws cut into the stones like butter, as it peered over the edge at the tiny life scurrying away below it.
Then it looked at her.
Straight at her.
Blood red eyes locked with emerald green wide and panicked eyes, as a higher understanding and recognition flickered in the beast's orbs. Her very soul burned. Something fiery hot was scalding her throat, contracting it painfully. Clear tried to scream, to release herself of the tension in her throat, but the dragons overpowering gaze made her unable to move.
The dragon's attention was snapped from the lone Wood Elf, to the barrage of soldiers ready to attack. With one swift motion, the beast opened its colossus maw and released a mighty burst of power from within, throwing and instantly killing dozens.
The blast of power disorientated Clear, but it didn't hurt her as much as she thought it would. It felt strangely...familiar? Another blast of power came from the beast, and her vision was starting to blur, her throat felt thick.
"Guards, get the townspeople to safety!"
Blood pounded in her ears. Her consciousness was fading. Was that dirt pressing on her face? Was she on the ground? A tremendous gush of wind enveloped her; she could hear the flapping of great wings...
"Hey, Wood Elf, come on, the God's won't give us another chance!" A familiar voice sounded next to her, someone grabbed her by the shoulder. Ralof? She stumbled to her feet, her vision was still blurred, her senses dull. The Nord was before her and Helgen was a light, fire was in the sky.
"Follow me!" Ralof urged as he turned on his heel. Her senses were coming back to her painfully slow, but the small Elf made quick to catch up with the man, needing all the protection she could get in her state.
With a burst of effort, Ralof slammed shut the doors to the Keep behind her, turning instantly to address one of the men already inside.
"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?"
"Legends don't burn down villages." The regal looking Nord said deeply, looking troubled. A mighty roar and a resonating crash broke him off.
"We need to move, now!" The Jarl yelled.
"Up though the tower, let's go!" Ralof shouted at her, dragging the small elf by the arm. Before Clear had a moment to think, the large Nord pushed her back against the hard stone wall and threw himself upon her small frame.
"Toor...shul!" An ungodly roar sounded and the part of the tower where she was just standing was ripped open and doused in the flames from Oblivion.
The heat was unbearable, and it would have singed her rags if not for the large Nord pressing her into the wall, shielding her small body from harm. She screwed her eyes shut, and clung to the man that was offering her a split moment of safety.
"You okay, friend?" Ralof said, stepping away from her to make sure she was not hurt. Clear could only nod her head mutely, too in shock to trust her voice. Silently, she followed Ralof to look out of the newly made hole in the tower wall and surveyed the burning town that was once Helgen with wide emerald eyes.
"See the inn on the other side? Jump though the roof and keep going!" Ralof said urgently, as a tremor racked though the tower, unsteadying them both, knocking Clear's line of vision to the next building below them. It was on fire, and he wanted her to jump though it?
She tore her gaze away to look back into Ralof's large blue eyes, obvious question in her own.
"Go! We'll follow when we can!" He yelled over the ground-splitting roars of the beast, placing a warm hand on her small shoulder in reassurance.
She looked down once more.
With a sharp intake of breath, she took to the sky. An elegant and terrifying leap of faith.
She collided with the upper floor with dizzying strength. The frail burnt wood snapped with her weight, sending her crashing down to the ground floor. Steadying herself, she braced the outside with only the instinct to survive driving her.
With a few steps out of the building, she ran straight into a group of Imperial soldiers, one who was attempting to go at the now grounded dragon with a sword.
"Hadvar, what are you doing? Get out the way!" One of the other Imperials screamed, clutching his bloodied side. The Imperial by the name of Hadvar, turned and ran straight into the small elf.
"Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way!" He yelled and rushed past her as the dragon took flight again. With nowhere else to go, and with her hands bound, Clear knew she didn't stand much chance on her own. Without question, the Wood Elf followed the very same people who were trying to execute her only half an hour before, dodging blasts of fire as she did.
"Stay close to the wall!" Hadvar shouted over his shoulder to her, as the great blackened mass flapped overhead and landed a few feet away. Obediently, she pressed herself flat against the side of a building behind the Imperial.
Once it had let lose a stream of fire and took flight once again, the Wood Elf and Hadvar ran though the mass of dying and fighting soldiers to the gates ahead.
"It's you and me prisoner, stay close!" The Imperial solder yelled, urging her to keep up, which was proving difficult with bound hands. Up ahead, Claire could make out a familiar blonde Nord step out into the road before them.
"Ralof, you damned traitor! Get out of my way!" Hadvar spat, sword drawn.
"We're escaping Hadvar. You're not stopping us this time!" The blonde Nord shouted back, glancing over at Claire who hung back slightly.
"Fine! I hope the dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!" The man in front of her screamed and ran ahead, leaving her alone.
The earth shook as the beast flew overhead, setting fire to the sky.
"You! Come on, into the Keep!" Ralof shouted at her, brandishing a newly acquired blade and Stormcloak armour. Without a seconds thought, she was hot on his heels with the fear gripping her insides painfully.
Once they were safely behind the metal doors, Clear allowed herself to exhale softly, trying to rid herself of the fear and tension constricting her limbs.
Ralof however, ran to the other side of the stone room and knelt beside a dead body against the back wall.
"We'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother." He murmured with his head bowed. Silently, Clear moved towards him and placed a small and upon his shoulder in comfort. She didn't know the man who had died, but she knew all too well the pain of losing someone, everyone, she knew. Rising to his feet, Ralof looked back to her bruised and bloodied form with a soft look in his eye.
"Looks like we are the only ones that made it...That thing was a dragon, no doubt. Just like the children's stories and legends, the harbingers of the End Times."
Just then an echoing roar shook the building, causing both Nord and Elf to look around in unease.
"We better get moving. Come here; let me see if I can get those bindings off." Ralof said, motioning towards her wrists and producing his sword.
Hesitantly, she offered her bound wrists to this Nord, this stranger, who seemed like her only friend in the world at that moment, and who she had trusted with her life so easily...
"So, what is your name, little Elf?" Ralof murmured, as he sawed at her tough binds.
"Clear..." She spoke softly, voice cracking somewhat.
"Just Clear, little one? No title? No home?" The Nord asked, somewhat surprised that she offered no title or name of recognition...like most Nords apparently.
"No...just Clear." The Wood Elf said after a moment. It was better if she remained a stranger. She had learnt that though her long years on Nirn. With one last painful tug, her binds fell free and she tenderly felt the nasty bloody red marks on her small wrists, wincing slightly.
"There you go. You may as well take Gunjor's armour, he won't be needing it anymore." Ralof said sadly, motioning to his fallen comrade.
The Nord turned away to give her some privacy as Clear quickly relieved the body of his armour and dressed herself in it, ignoring the stench of death that lingered in the fabric. The Stormcloak armour was miles to big for her, so she had to improvise by tying the straps around her form several times just to keep it slipping off her small shoulders. However, anything was better than the blood stained rags she had on before.
Picking up Gunjor's unfamiliar war axe, the lithe elf walked over to where Ralof was unsuccessfully trying to get open the iron gates to the side of the Keep. Just then, her ears twitched ever so slightly, and she heard a horribly familiar cold cry of a Redguard voice.
"It's the Imperials! Quick, take cover!" Ralof hissed, pushing her behind him as he hid besides the door.
The evil, nasty, Redguard Captain who seemed to have it in for her from before, walked through the Iron Gate they were hiding beside, unlocking it, Clear noted silently. Without a seconds thought, Clear was past Ralof in one graceful leap and brought her heavy axe down upon the shocked woman's neck, watching the light leave her eyes. The axe felt heavy and foreign to her touch, but it was a blade, and that was all that mattered at the pressing moment.
Satisfied with her kill, Clear turned back to see Ralof finish off the remained Imperial soldier and caught him looking at her with questions behind his eyes of her seemingly seasoned killing ability in such an innocent and small form.
"Maybe one of these Imperials has the key..." Ralof suggested, still looking at her out of the corner of his blue eyes. It was obvious she was not all she made out to be.
With a silent smile, Clear held up a rusty iron key in front of the Nord that she had already taken from the fallen Captain, along with her steel sword. The elf was much better with a sword.
Despite everything, Ralof laughed, with a genuine smile on his face at her being two steps ahead.
"That's it! Come on; let's get out of here before that dragon brings the whole tower down on our heads!"
And so they ran. They ran though the Iron Gate and down into the rocky halls beneath. The elf's ears twitched ever so slightly and instantly she grasped Ralof's large hand and pulled him back towards her with surprising strength. Before he could open his mouth in question, the ceiling just before them caved in with an almightily crash, blocking the passageway before them.
"Damn, that Dragon doesn't give up easy!" Ralof said, slamming his fist into the wooden door on his left and storming into the next room. After inspecting the fallen rocks, Clear silently followed Ralof into the next room, only to find two dead Imperials at his feet. The small elf raised her eyebrows at him and the Nord just shrugged his shoulders in response, evidently a lot less frustrated now.
Something however, caught the small elf's attention. It was a large chest in the corner of the room with an extravagant padlock to it, which felt somewhat...familiar to her. Calling Ralof to wait, she quickly found the key on one of the fallen Imperials and glided over to the iron chest that seemed to be calling to her.
With a soft click, she slotted the iron key inside and after a moments held breath, the chest clicked open. Her emerald eyes lit up at what was inside.
Gently, she lifted a tattered black journal out of the chest, tied together with purple ribbon and adorned the symbols of an upside-down triangle with a dragon symbol and daedric writing inside the triangle on the front cover.
Next she gently took a small silver ring of a moon and star out of the chest and placed it with the journal.
Delving into the chest once more, Clear next pulled out a small black pack that she quickly strapped around her small waist and stowed the journal and ring safely inside.
Finally, she gingerly lifted out a magnificent ebony bow and an equally impressive ebony katana out of the chest. Both weapons were lined with the silver of the moon and the darkness of the night, and the small elf seemed to glow at their touch. She felt complete once more.
With another echoing roar of the dragon, Ralof closed his gaping mouth and ushered her to follow him down the stony caverns. Quickly strapping on her blade and bow, she discarded the large Imperial sword and took off with a small smile gracing her features. She was so glad her only possessions had not been lost.
"Trolls blood! It's a torture room!" Ralof exclaimed as they entered the next large cavern, hand flying to his mouth to try and cover up the stench of blood and death, missing the two Imperials raising their weapons.
Too fast for the human eye, Clear drew her bow and notched an iron arrow that she had found, sending two continuously into the skulls of both Imperials.
"Shor's blood, we're too late! Damn the Empire!" Ralof exclaimed in despair, falling to his knees at the sight of his mangled comrades. Clear remained silent, but moved up behind him and placed a small hand on his shoulder.
She knew his pain, oh too well.
Both weary now from their wounds, the odd couple continued on, though caverns, Imperials and cave waterfalls, Claire picking up some more Iron arrows along the way.
After Ralof turned a heavy leaver to drop the draw bridge they needed to cross, they came into a large, spacious cavern with the first bit of daylight they had seen in hours shining into the darkness in beautiful heavenly rays. A small stream, glittering in the sunlight, flowed thought he cavern and disappeared into a dark tunnel along the opposite side.
With a loud, ground shaking roar, that echoed ten-fold along the walls of the cave, Clear felt that strange sensation again, from deep within her. The almighty sound felt like it shook the very seems of the earth, and the small elf lost her footing and grasped onto Ralof for support, missing the strange look in his sky blue eyes.
She held on to him for dear life as the ground beneath them shook, almost like an earthquake, which made the tunnel that they had just travelled though, cave in behind them.
"No getting back that way now," Ralof sighed as the elf pulled free and re-arranged her slipping armour. "We'd better push on; the rest of them will have to find another way out."
They traversed in silence, side by side and weary, on through the dark rocky tunnels and the small elf was quite content that way, until her Nord companion deemed it ready to break the silence.
"So then, little Elf, what was all of that stuff you got out of that chest?" The large man asked, curiosity brimming his deep voice as they continued onwards.
Clear sighed, how could she tell him? It was better she remained unknown...but people were going to ask someday; who she was, where she was from...and someday she would have to find the answer.
"They are...a little piece of home." The red head answered after a moment's pause, her eyes held a faraway look in them. Thankfully, Ralof just nodded and accepted that as an answer.
The next thing she knew a pair of pincers were upon her, and the next thing Ralof knew as he readied his blade to defend the small elf, was a long thin katana blade spray both of them with spider blood as Clear drove her weapon though it's skull.
After they had dealt with the spiders, Clear tried to suppress a very obvious shiver, but it was in vain and Ralof saw.
"I hate those damned things, too many eyes, you know?" He offered her a small smile in understanding and they pressed onwards.
Clear spent all her remaining energy forcing her feet to move forward, one in front of the other, step by step...there was another roar. A somewhat familiar roar this time. Before Ralof had time to react, two swift iron arrows dealt the large bear a quick demise and after moving on past its body, the warm feeling of hope washed though her and her companion.
"That looks like the way out! I knew we'd make it!" Ralof half laughed, half shouted, as he grasped Clear's small hand and pulled her at a run towards the light in the distance.
Allowing herself to finally laugh too, Clear ran with him, easily overtaking his long heavy strides with her silent quick ones, and together they burst out of the small dark tunnel and into the bright light of Skyrim.