"We need to get to Riverwood," Erik growled as he rose to his feet and dried his tears. "That monster was heading there—we need to make sure it didn't attack there too."
"M'rissi is with you," she said as she slipped her hand into his for a moment before she gasped and started pulling him. "Erik—Erik look!" she exclaimed, pointing to a stable that had somehow been missed by the black dragon's rage. A stable with two horses. One was a black horse with white circles around the eyes, and the other was a brown and white horse.
The two of them were panicking and trying to break down the doors to their respective stables.
Erik stared for a moment as he approached them.
"Thank the gods…" he whispered. The both of them stared at the Nord as he came up to them, calming down as he reached out to them. As he did, the horses neighed and reared up and kicked at the stall doors.
"Shh—calm down boys. We'll get you out of here, but you need to be calm," Erik said as he reached out and touched the snout of one of the horses.
It backed away for a moment, but they calmed enough for Erik to open the stall doors and lead the horses out.
"We need to get to Riverwood. Come on!" he shouted as he mounted the bare-back horse before taking off on his horse towards the river-side town.
It wasn't long before he heard a second set of hooves behind him as he tore through the mountainside.
When they got close to the town, he saw a single pillar of smoke rising from one of the buildings—from Alvor's home.
"Shit—shit—shit!" Erik gasped, bursting through the open doors to see the women of the town trying to quell the flames that poured from Alvor's home—with several of the towns' men trying to lift a fallen support beam off of Alvor, who was near his forge.
"M'rissi, help deal with the fire!" Erik ordered as he leaped off his horse and rushed to Alvor's aid.
"Erik?" Alvor asked as Erik gripped the beam and strained against the enormous weight. "What are you—"
"Ask me later—survive now!" Erik said as he used every ounce of his strength to try to lift the beam to no avail.
Divines, please! Give me the strength to save him!
"Lift!" Erik demanded, feeling the muscles in his arms burn, groaning and grunting.
He could feel his body screaming at him, begging him to stop, but he wouldn't. He refused.
And his efforts weren't in vain.
The beam began to shift and move, and Erik let out one final cry of desperation, and together, the men lifted the beam just enough for Hadvar and Ralof to drag the Smith from his burning home, to Sigrid and Dorthe's relief.
His wife and daughter ran up to him, embracing him as Erik fell to his knees next to Alvor.
"Helgen is gone…" Erik said as the townsfolk continued to fight the blaze. "The whole damn town was scorched by that damn dragon."
"So—that was a dragon? What about your parents?"
"They—they're gone, Alvor," Erik replied, his voice shaking as M'rissi wrapped her arm around his shoulder. "The elves—they hired more mercenaries to follow us, and we had to leave Ivarstead. The dragon passed over our camp, but by the time we got to Helgen, everything was destroyed."
"Erik, I'm so sorry," Alvor sighed, pulling the man into a hug. "If the Elves are coming, then you need to leave—but before you leave the hold, the Jarl needs to know about this monster. Riverwood needs protection, we need more guards."
"Guards won't do anything to that monster. That hide looks too thick for swords or arrows," Erik replied. "But I will tell the Jarl."
"Good…you two need to get going, now. Before that damned beast returns."
"Will you be okay without us?" M'rissi asked as she looked over to the still-burning home.
"We'll be fine," Sigrid replied. "Just go!"
"Alright," Erik nodded and turned to see Lucan Valerius finishing putting a saddle on Erik and M'rissi's horses.
"I had a couple of saddles laying around in my shop, you've more than earned them, Far-Giver," Lucan said as Erik and M'rissi approached.
"M'rissi thanks you. That horse is not so fun to ride on with no saddle," the young Khajiit groaned as she mounted the horse.
You didn't seem to mind riding me last night.
Erik chuckled to himself and mounted his horse.
"Thank you, Lucan. I'll pay you back for this—"
"You already have," the shopkeeper replied.
Erik nodded and together, he and M'rissi took off towards the capital city of the Whiterun Hold. When they got to the gates, a guard approached them, stopping them.
"Hold, gates are closed with the dragon about," he said.
"I need to talk to the Jarl, Riverwood and Helgen were attacked by that thing!" Erik said. The guard perked up and nodded, motioning for the gates to open, and once they were, Erik and M'rissi made a bee-line for DragonsReach.
"Jarl Balgruuf!" Erik shouted as he and M'rissi burst through the doors of the castle
He bolted up the stairs, only to be met by an older Dark Elf woman aiming a sword at him as she approached from across the main room.
"What is the meaning of this?" she asked as Erik got closer to the large fire that sat in the middle of the two long-tables. "Who let you into the castle?"
"The guards," Erik replied, glaring at the woman. "Helgen and Riverwood have been attacked. Riverwood is fine, Alvor's home was burned down, but no one died. Helgen is gone! The whole damn city was torched, I saw it with my own eyes!"
"By the Eight, the rumors were true!" Balgruuf exclaimed as the dark elf woman eyes the Erik. "Irileth, gather a garrison and send it to Riverwood at once!"
"My lord, the Reach will view that as a provocation—" an imperial man with robes said.
"What would you have me do, Proventus? Close my city and watch my hold burn? I'll not have it! Irileth, gather half a dozen guards and send them to Riverwood!" Balgruuf said, raising his voice. "You, boy," he said, turning back to Erik and motioning to Irileth to leave, which she did to follow her orders. "You've shown some initiative coming to me like this. I thank you for coming to me with this—however, knowing that the dragons have returned, my mage has gotten antsy with a—project of his—"
"I apologize, Jarl Balgruuf," Erik said, raising a hand. "My partner and I are in—a bit of trouble. We can't stay for too long."
"Trouble?" The Jarl asked. "What kind?"
"I—I can't say," Erik replied, but before he could say anything more, Balgruuf spoke.
"Does it have to do with the Thalmor that came through a couple weeks ago? They said they were looking for someone—a khajiit."
Erik's blood froze as the Jarl asked one of his guards to bring him something. When they returned, he held a piece of paper with a detailed illustration of M'rissi.
"Shit," Erik whispered under his breath. "Should have grabbed her cloak…"
"M-ree-see?" Balgruuf asked, raising an eyebrow. "I apologize, I'm not too familiar with Khajiit names. Why are the Thalmor looking for you, girl?"
"That's none of your business," Erik answered for his lover.
"I didn't ask you," the Jarl glared. "Did he take you?"
"Wha—no! M'rissi came with Erik by herself! He saved her!"
"Saved?" Balgruuf asked.
"From the mercenaries that the pointed ears sent after her! They attacked her, and were going to rape her! She—M'rissi must not go back to the pointed ears—if she did…"
The young Khajiit's voice trembled with fear. Erik didn't need to see her face to know she was terrified. He simply brought her to his side and wrapped a comforting arm around her.
"It's okay," Erik said, holding her close.
"These Thalmor—they have ill intentions, don't they?" Balgruuf asked.
"They want to kill me and take her to the head Thalmor Justiciar," Erik replied. "From what I know, the woman is M'rissi's adopted mother. But she's nothing that a mother should be."
"I see—so she's a run-away," the Jarl nodded and stood, waving his steward away and stepping down to Erik and M'rissi. "As a Jarl under the Empire, I cannot legally deny the Thalmor access to my city or hold, nor can I deny their orders—however—I did not see either of you today. Consider it a favor for telling me about Riverwood."
Erik took a deep breath and sighed in relief. It felt almost as if he'd forgotten to breathe in those few minutes, nervous, terrified of what the Jarl's response would have been.
"But—I still need someone to help my mage."
"Forgive me, Jarl, but I know no one who can help your mage. M'rissi and I need to leave the hold. We just came to let you know of Riverwood before we left."
"And I thank you for that," the Jarl nodded, resting a hand on Erik's shoulder. "I understand your dilemma. What would it take to get you to help?"
"I—" Erik paused for a moment, remembering that he'd left all of their supplies near Helgen. If he backtracked, he might be able to still retrieve them, but the fact that the elves are on their tails made him reconsider. "There are a few things," he said after a few moments of silence.
"Name them, and if they are reasonable, you shall receive."
"The black dragon came down and passed over us—in my panic to get to Helgen, I left most of our supplies in the pass connecting Ivarstead and Riverwood. If I could get a couple of tents, one fur, one leather, with a hatchet, cold weather gear, a few saddlebags for my horses, some food, and a few waterskins, that would be enough."
"That—that is easy. I expected you to ask if I could throw the Thalmor off your trail."
"I don't believe they'll be coming here. If the gods are watching over us, they'll be heading towards Falkreath into Rorikstead. Besides, I've asked enough people to risk their lives for me. I just need supplies."
"Very well," the Jarl nodded and motioned to Erik's right, towards a room with an alchemy and enchanting table, where a man in dark blue robes stood. "Talk to my mage, tell him I sent you, and then do whatever he needs you to do—and you will get your supplies."
"Erik," M'rissi whispered. "How do we know we can trust him?"
"Jarl Balgruuf is a very good man, M'rissi," Erik replied in a hushed whisper. "He's done Whiterun Hold a lot of good since he came to hold the title of Jarl. If he says he'll help us, he'll help us. If you don't trust him—trust me."
"I—I trust you," M'rissi said, nodding. "But I don't trust him."
"I know," Erik replied and planted a kiss on her cheek. "So," he said a little louder as he shifted his attention back to Balgruuf. "Thank you, Jarl."
"You don't need to thank me. I am doing my duty," the Jarl replied, and Erik nodded before he started towards the mage's room.
"Who are you?" The mage asked, glaring at Erik as he approached with M'rissi close behind him. He stood over his table and stacks of scrolls, in the middle of scribbling something down on a piece of parchment paper.
"The Jarl sent me," Erik replied, holding a hand up, as if to tell the mage to hold on to whatever thought he was about to let out. "He sent me to deal with an issue that he said you had."
"Ah, yes, my little "project," the mage replied, relaxing a small bit before returning to his writing. "I need a stone taken from Bleakfalls Barrow. But not just any stone, this one has a map of Skyrim on it."
"A stone with a map of Skyrim? What's the map of?"
"Dragon burial grounds," the mage replied. "I have an associate that has a theory, and we need that stone to confirm it."
"May I ask what the theory would be?"
The mage looked up once again with a raised eyebrow.
"I get the feeling you're no mere brute mercenary," the mage replied with a small smirk. "Alright, I'll let you in on it. At first, we thought it might tell us where the ancient Nords buried Alduin, the World-Eater—he was the only dragon that wasn't accounted for in the ancient scripts of the dragon war. But—overhearing your conversation, it seems the dragon that attacked Helgen and Riverwood may have been Alduin himself. However, we won't know unless we confirm that there's no burial site for him."
"Alduin?" Erik gasped. "The damned World Eater? You're saying that may have been him that burned down my home?"
"Indeed," the mage nodded. "And if that is, we're in a whole other world of trouble. The civil war would be the last thing we'd need to worry about. If it is the case that Alduin has returned, the prophecy of the Last Dragonborn has come to pass, and we need to start preparing for one of two things—the end of the world—or the saving of it."
"The prophesy of the Last Dragonborn?"
"When Misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world, when the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped, when the Thrice-Blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles, when the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls, when the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless and bleeding, the World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn," the mage recited as he ran his hand over a book wrapped in black leather, and embroidered with a silver emblem in the shape of the imperial sigil. "The Staff of Chaos, the Numidium and the Warp in the West, the disaster at Red Mountain when the meteor fell after the Tribunal was killed, the Oblivion Crisis, and finally, this damnable war. I've studied each event carefully, and I've concluded that we are either at the precipice of the end times, or the halting of it. Either way, the events will be carved into history as we know it."
"You're saying the world may end?" M'rissi cut in as Erik stood next to her, wordless. "But—no—no it cannot end!"
"Unless the Dragonborn reveals him or herself, it will. If you know where the Bleakfalls Barrows are, you may want to start heading there now," the mage said, and started to usher them out. "Don't come back without the stone."