Traveling Trials
POV Pellegrina, Chapter 4: Scavengers
The ruins of Helgen are explored, and Pelle returns home.
5:40 PM, Turdas the 20th of Last Seed, 4E 201
Pellegrina realizes that something is wrong when some debris collapses, and Magrakh freezes like a deer.
It's hard not to offer him platitudes like 'are you okay?', because she can tell the answer is 'no'.
Returning to Helgen after its destruction was an idea fueled by greed, but both had underestimated the effect that exploring this devastated and horror-filled landscape would have on them.
The ruins emit a horrible acrid smell that could be perceived all the way from the White River, but making their way through the still-smoking embers and paths scattered with corpses is an entirely different experience.
What was not burned is now rotting, whether they are people or animals, adding to the pungent smell of coal the first hints of the unpleasant sweetness of death. Fortunately, only a few days have passed, so with the help of the cold and the effects of the fire, decomposition is proceeding slowly.
Pellegrina expected the place to be already overrun by bandits, but it seems it will take time before they establish a base; mice and Skeevers arrived first.
Mice were probably already here when Helgen was still intact, and they simply scurry away when encountered. Skeevers, on the other hand, are much bolder and attack them in groups of three or four at a time, fleeing at the first blow they receive only to return a few minutes later from a different direction.
Magrakh is probably thinking Pelle is afraid of rodents, as she runs away from them as if they were bombs. But in reality, what truly frightens her are the diseases they could transmit since, unlike him, she has no immune defenses against local diseases.
Apart from that, Pellegrina admits that the Skeevers are testing her patience, that's why she has been shooting arrows at them, but they are too fast to be hit. She sadly goes to collect her arrows, while Magrakh disdainfully throws away the two Skeevers he managed to kill.
Something breaks in the distance, probably beams that have been consumed by the fire and are now collapsing due to gravity. This startles Magrakh, who, after realizing there is no immediate danger, takes deep breaths.
Both have experienced Helgen's destruction, but Pelle thought she was the one more affected by it since it was a completely alien experience for her. But now, she begins to doubt it.
Magrakh seems uncomfortable, more than the fright that could be caused by the atmosphere of the ruins and the bad memories it generates.
He appears nervous, tense, and scared, as if he expects to relive something terrible, and a part of Pellegrina wonders if it's just because of what happened in Helgen, or if there are other reasons, perhaps something that happened even before they met.
In fact, the other day she noticed how Magrakh ran away in fear when the secret door of Bleak Falls Barrow shook the tunnel. Initially, she thought it was because Mag is a bit of a scaredy-cat, but now she has another hypothesis.
Perhaps the story he told about his past as a miner was not bullshit, as she had thought...and perhaps the reason he left the mine is that something bad happened.
Whatever the true reason, Pellegrina doubts that Magrakh is willing to talk about it.
They came prepared with all the bags and backpacks they found in Anise's cabin, and they intend to fill them.
Unfortunately, people's coin purses are lost in the chaos of their remains, and neither of them feels greedy enough to rummage through the charred figures.
The ruins of buildings, however, are easier to deal with.
Since they don't know if other looters have hidden somewhere among the ruins, they move cautiously, trying not to make too much noise moving the debris in search of chests and safes, and putting coins in a sack lined with fabric to prevent them from clinking.
There is definitely something out there, but it's hard to tell if it's stealthy people, more Skeevers, or just their paranoia.
Among the debris, they manage to retrieve other valuable things besides coins, such as figurines, jewels, clothes, and–much to Magrakh's displeasure–books.
The orcs seem to care little about books, and if Pelle doesn't secure them in time, he would use them to start a fire or wipe his butt.
The lack of toilet paper is a problem shared by both, but a book is certainly not a valid alternative!
Skyrim may not be the most cultured place in Tamriel, but Pellegrina is fairly certain that the printing press doesn't exist yet, at least not here, so books should be quite valuable, being handwritten.
There is also a demolished forge in town, but when Magrakh goes to investigate, he realizes that moving the debris to search for supplies is not feasible. It's a shame because it could contain so much equipment and metal to use or sell.
Other buildings, like a house where they decided to spend the night, have been spared from the onslaught of fire and destruction. Places like this are very few and far between, and with the walls still intact, they stand out like the last remaining teeth in a geriatric mouth.
Helgen's Keep, although not completely intact, is still partly accessible.
Magrakh blocks her way with an arm. "I'm going alone," he says.
Perplexed, Pellegrina looks up, but he avoids her gaze. She would like to explore that iconic place again, since the first time she couldn't truly appreciate it.
"Why? I can help."
"I said I'm going alone!" He insists, raising his voice and pushing open the battered gate.
Magrakh seems to be walking on a razor's edge since they arrived, perhaps being alone is what he needs.
"Fine," Pelle sighs, "but promise me that if you find books, you'll bring them to me."
With a huff and a nod, the Orc enters the building.
What a pity.
As he explores the Keep, Pelle delves into the remains of the tavern, whose second floor is practically non-existent. Most of the bottles and barrels on the surface are broken, but while cleaning the floor, she finds the entrance to a small cellar. Inside lies the corpse of a woman curled up in a pool of congealed blood.
Pelle tries not to look at her face—it's easier to ignore someone if you don't look at their face—and quickly grabs as many bottles as she can carry.
It's neither the first nor the last corpse that tells a sad story with its position, especially as she passes by a few homes.
Roofs collapsed under the dragon's weight while families sought refuge inside, a dead baby in its crib because no one could return to save it, dogs and livestock left to their fate...
Pellegrina faces each tragedy in the only way she knows: trying not to dwell on it too much and focusing on positive and useful things.
Like all the valuable items and food she can salvage, even if pickled vegetables and dried meat don't excite her. But with a lot of traveling ahead, these will be adequate rations.
There's still plenty of food here and there, in barrels and crates, along with numerous sacks of grain and flour. It's a shame it will go to waste, but without a cart, they can't carry such heavy things.
After bringing her findings to the house where they will spend the night, Pelle continues her search for useful supplies.
She made a literal shopping list—Magrakh laughed when she showed it to him—and so far, she has found almost everything. Only a tent, one of those nice carved wooden combs, a proper grappling hook, and a crossbow are missing.
But nothing. She can only settle for a sleeping bag and blankets.
At some point, a big guy with weapons and armor appears before her, and Pelle startles backward.
Magrakh watches her with a raised eyebrow; he's no longer wearing the Imperial armor.
"Damn, you could have warned me instead of giving me a heart attack!" Pelle hisses, clutching her chest.
He also has a large dark fur cloak that makes him look like a character from Game of Thrones. Pellegrina likes her new hooded leather cloak better, as it protects her from the biting winds that sweep through the ghost town without weighing her down or restricting her movements.
Mag hands her what looks like a long coat, clearly meant for battle, and it has a rather unpleasant smell.
"Is this some kind of leather armor or something?" She asks.
She must have said something wrong because the Orc frowns and snorts.
"It's a gambeson, girl. It's made of layers of linen; the only leather is on the ties! And for the Divines' sake, don't call it 'armor.'"
"Okay, okay, calm down."
Whatever it is, she's not planning on wearing anything that came out of the rubble without thoroughly washing it first.
Not calming down, Mag points to his chest and taps the metal. "This is armor," he says, "a lamellar iron cuirass. You wanted lessons? Consider this the first."
Surprised, Pelle can't help but smile. The equipment is very different from what she knows from the game, but maybe she should have expected it. Under the armor, he wears a coat—or gambeson, apparently—very similar to the one he gave her.
He also wears new gauntlets and boots, both protected by metal, and an iron helmet. Fortunately, the helmet doesn't have the iconic horns, otherwise, she would have laughed in his face.
She doesn't ask where he found them, as she can imagine by observing the spots of congealed blood. But she's glad he won't have to walk around looking like a Roman centurion anymore. He stood out like a sore thumb.
Unfortunately, the book 'Dragonborn' is not among those he brought back.
9:30 PM
It's evening. They've spent hours rummaging through desolation and death, with their faces covered by scarves to withstand the unpleasant smells and to create a psychological barrier between themselves and the repulsive things they've had to search among.
Something in the distance moves, causing a great noise and the collapse of other structures.
Mag flinches, sharply turning his head and shielding his face with his arm.
The general direction is east, highlighted by a growing plume of dust and smoke.
It's clear that Magrakh is not okay, as he stares at the point as if his eyes could see through time and space.
This time, the reaction is different, and Pelle notices that even after the settling of the rubble, Mag has stopped talking and moving.
"The sun has set," Pelle says, after a while, unsure if he can hear her, "why don't we call it a day? Let's go into that house, have some of the mead from the tavern, and settle our things, shall we?"
The Orc doesn't move. His face is turned toward the cloud of dust, which is already thinning due to the wind.
"You know I've never drunk mead?" She asks his stiff back. "I don't know what it tastes like, but alcohol made from honey sounds like it must be good."
Pelle takes a few steps toward the house they've chosen. To get there, they have to walk under a collapsed building, which toppled against the city walls.
Mag is not showing any intention of following her, and even though she would like to grab his shoulder to try to get his attention, she thinks it would be a bad idea to touch him.
So instead, she moves in front of him.
"Magrakh, are you coming? I can't stay here all night, and I don't want to leave you alone in this shithole. Come on, let's go."
She sighs with relief when he reacts with a snort.
These huffs and grunts are his second language, and Pelle has noticed that they often say more than words.
After a few seconds, he follows her under the arch and into the house of a stranger.
He remains silent while Pelle prepares cabbage soup with garlic crostini and cheese sauce.
To fill that silence and distract him, she talks nonsense. Most of it is second-hand gossip from her hometown, like one about a failed marriage due to an old flame's return and a rumored teenage pregnancy that was hidden and terminated.
Then, when she has no more gossip to share, she tells him about how beautiful the sunset is in Skyrim's clear sky, describing the mix of blues, purples, and oranges that change every passing minute, as if the sky were a canvas painting itself.
Magrakh doesn't contribute to the conversation, eating quietly and quickly downing two bottles of warm mead.
"Hey, it's good!" Pelle says after her first sip of the typical Nord alcohol, slowly finishing the whole bottle.
Although she suspects that mead tastes better when cold, the warm drink helps against the chilly night. The bitter aftertaste makes her wonder if this is the juniper berry mead she's heard Ralof mention dozens of times.
Now that she doesn't know what else to say, silence falls again, and Magrakh sits motionless, staring at the empty bowl.
Eating by candlelight has never been so depressing.
Outside, it became dark much later than in the summers of her homeland, and she wonders if it's really a good idea to leave the fire on during the night. Theirs would be the only light around, and it could attract ill-intentioned people.
"Magrakh," Pelle finally calls, as she's not good at handling these situations, and she's run out of nonsense to distract him with, "are you okay?"
She doesn't receive a response, but the Orc tilts his head to meet her gaze.
His eyes are attentive yet accusing, saying, 'this is a stupid question, and you know it.' It makes her feel like she should lower her gaze, but instead, she shrugs, trying to maintain eye contact.
"It's just that you've been silent for hours."
"You've been talking enough for both of us," he mutters, retreating to the master bedroom.
It takes a lot of patience on Pellegrina's part not to release an exasperated sigh.
Later that night, in the oppressive silence cut only by crackling wood and nocturnal animals, Pelle decides it's safe enough to go on her own solo expedition.
She gathers her belongings and disappears.
11:47 PM, Thursday the 20th of August, 2021
Pellegrina's room is completely different from how she left it.
There's a mess on her desk and bookshelves, someone has rummaged through her things and then didn't bother to put everything back in place. This annoys her quite a bit.
The note she left behind, on the other hand, is gone.
It's 11:50 PM, and the night is illuminated by the glow of a small town and a single moon. The only sounds are the moans of passing cars in the distance.
Okay, let's do things in order, Pelle reminds herself not to waste time.
One of the last things on her list is easy to grab from her cabinet: a comb. She forgot to put it in her bag, but she bets a real Celtic-style comb would be much cuter than the blue plastic one she has.
And since she's already there, she also takes the rest of her toiletries.
After leaving her phone charging, she opens her bedroom door cautiously.
The only source of light in the hallway is the door at the end, which lets in some light from the kitchen window.
She hears a light snoring coming from one of the doors hidden by the dark, but other than that, everything is quiet.
There we go, let's keep this silence.
Once she takes off her shoes to make as little noise as possible, Pelle makes good use of her thorough knowledge of the non-squeaky spots on the parquet floor and moves slowly toward the bathroom. She would love to take a refreshing shower, but a bath will be quieter.
While the tub fills, she dips the gambeson in a basin of water and lets it soak with some alcohol and soap. She doesn't know how to clean something like this, but she hopes at least to kill the bacteria.
Then she makes sure to take a roll of toilet paper and empty the house of all the gauze she can find. There's nothing specific for burns in the medicine cabinet, but in case she needs it in the future, she takes penicillin, paracetamol, and ibuprofen.
Then she returns to her bedroom and packs a clean change of clothes and underwear, as she's dying to get rid of the itchy wool sweater and the rest of the clothes found in Anise's cabin.
Pelle climbs out the window of her bedroom, which faces the backyard, because the main entrance is locked, and it would be complicated to open and close it without making noise.
The toolshed creaks when she opens it, and the garage still has the broken lightbulb, so moonlight is a lousy substitute, but that doesn't stop her from conducting a thorough search among all the stored items.
She'd get into trouble if spotted, dressed as she is, in the dead of night, but fortunately the neighbors' house is too far to notice.
She can't find the old camping tent from the hunting trips with her sister. The only possible replacement she finds is the long tarp they used to cover buffet tables at family parties.
This time she remembers to bring a lighter—she still feels stupid for forgetting the first time—and also grabs some matches.
The wireless heater would be a fantastic addition, but there's no way she can explain that to Magrakh. Scissors, pliers, and rope will be a bit odd compared to those in Skyrim, but at least they exist.
After taking a warm bath, almost crying from the pain of soap on her burns, she tries to fix her hair, which has become an unruly mess. Soon it becomes evident that it would take much more time than she wants to spend to untangle them. The phone is already at 62% charge, so she decides to take the scissors and say goodbye to her ponytail.
The clock reads 0:38.
She takes some money from her secret stash in the ceiling lamp, and dashes out the window to venture into the city.
Her town is small, not big enough for 24/7 stores, but not so small that everyone knows everyone. Nevertheless, hers is a face they would recognize...for better or for worse, and she doesn't want to bet on her mask and new haircut to go unnoticed. So, she avoids passing by bars or other areas where there might still be people.
Though it's too early for a significant slowdown, the streets are much less crowded at this hour. Occasionally, cars pass by without paying her any attention, oblivious to the world-shattering things she's done lately.
Pelle is vague in her description and requests to the pharmacist since she's unsure of how severe her burns are and lacks a doctor's advice, but the young man on duty still offers her what he can.
When she asks for remedies for food poisoning and the most potent sleeping pills he can give her without a prescription, the young man looks at her with questions in his eyes that he doesn't dare utter under her glaring gaze.
Once back home, the phone has finished charging.
She rinses the gambeson a couple of times and doesn't dally; she leaves right away.
1:20 AM, Fredas the 21st of Last Seed, 4E 201
As soon as she's finished wringing the gambeson and hanging it out to dry on the wind, Pelle enters the house and finds Magrakh waiting for her behind the door. She didn't expect him to notice her absence to begin with.
"Where in Oblivion were you?" He asks, looming over her and, even though he isn't wearing his armor, gripping the axe in his hand.
Pelle shakes her head, showing her still-damp hair, now shoulder-length and chilled by the night cold.
"I couldn't sleep, so I went for a bath," she replies as if it were a simple trip to the hot springs.
"A bath?" Mag eyes her change of clothes with suspicion.
"I didn't want to wake you up by stoking the fire, handling the buckets, and all that. I thought you were sleeping, was I wrong?"
The Orc looks displeased.
"Sorry," she says in his silence, "if I had known you were awake, I would've told you."
Then, because giving gifts always works better than asking for forgiveness, she lifts her backpack.
"I found more stuff, including some gauze!" She says, pushing a roll towards him, already removed from the modern plastic packaging. "You should change your bandages. I already did mine, need a hand?"
"No," he says, grabbing the gauze hesitantly.
"Oh, I almost forgot!" Pelle hands him the cream she bought. "I found a soothing ointment, which should help with the burns."
"It's strange," comments the Orc, looking at the plastic tube packaging. The pharmacist had looked at her very similarly when she asked for an ointment that came in a glass jar.
"The dyed leather pouch is strange, I agree," says Pelle, "but the ointment works."
"How can you be sure it's beneficial?"
"It smells and looks the same as the cream I used to buy back home for skin irritations, so I guess it's made with the same ingredients. It worked for me."
Magrakh mumbles several words under his breath, some sounding suspiciously like 'rich' and 'strange.'
"Don't leave like that again," he finally says, grabbing the tube and pointing it as one would with a dagger. "I don't care if I'm asleep, I don't care if you're going to take a shit, just tell me."
Pelle huffs. "Yes, father..."
He grumbles as he returns to his room, but before the door closes, she calls to him.
"Oh, wait, I also found this, could we use it as a tent?"
Magrakh stares at the very vivid yellow background of the tarp, adorned with white and blue daisies and red and pink peonies in a riot of colors.
"It's waxed..." she adds, only now realizing that the pattern might be a bit too garish for someone living the medieval life of Skyrim.
The Orc's mouth opens in astonishment, but then it closes again, contorting into a grimace. He shuts the door behind him without saying a word.
Pelle sighs. Just wait until you open the jar of sausages in oil, you'll love me then.
Still full of energy, she spends most of the night organizing the loot into different bags to take up less space, and then drawing a map of Skyrim on a canvas.
Now that she has the Dragonstone, she can confirm the shape of the real Skyrim is the same as the game map. This version will be a thousand years old, but continental masses don't change overnight...except maybe for the Great Collapse of Winterhold.
First, she'll have to trace the borders, modifying the Broken Cape area based on the appearance of the game map, and then she can add the various locations. The maps on her phone will provide the locations of everything that she's reasonably sure exists, like the major cities and large ruins, but she thinks she'll also mark small points of interest. If she's lucky, those exist too, just like the exit of Bleak Falls Barrow on the side of the mountain.
She doesn't yet know the scale of the map, but she has some examples to base it on.
In good weather, but in bad physical condition, Pelle and Mag walked briskly from outside the walls of Helgen to Anise's cabin, going downhill partly on a gravel road and partly through the undergrowth, and then wading across a river. This took most of the day, about 10 hours.
It's interesting to note that the reverse route didn't involve many off-road excursions, but was mostly uphill and took about the same amount of time. With good weather, rested and full, this morning they waded across the river and followed the road to the city, arriving after about 9 hours.
Even without other data, Pelle thinks she can roughly estimate the time needed for other travel routes.
5:30 AM
She doesn't remember at what time she collapsed from exhaustion, but it's definitely too early in the morning when Magrakh crosses the hallway with the grace of a drunken hippopotamus, grumbling loudly about the cold and hunger.
When he yells "girl" and "breakfast", Pelle can't help but smile.
"Neither of those are my name," she shouts from the bed.
The people who lived in this house slept on straw and covered themselves with hardened furs, but she piled all her blankets on the bed, burying herself in the soft fabric heap.
There's a long silence interrupted only by grumbles coming from somewhere in the main room.
After a few minutes, the crackling of fire is heard, and shortly after, the Orc shouts, "Pellegrina!"
She smiles at the endearing nordic accent that says her name. "Yes?"
"Come here and make sense of these potatoes!"
She feared that after what happened last night, Magrakh would be distant and aggressive, just like when they were at Anise's cabin. Instead, this small victory puts her in a good mood, and she no longer minds getting up so early.
She unearths herself from the pile of blankets and hurries to get dressed before the cold air chills her skin.
Mashed potatoes, hard-boiled eggs, bread, and cheese... that should be enough.
Pelle takes the map to show to Mag—it's not finished yet, but the main layout with the various hold capitals is there.
She finds him hunched over, peeling potatoes, dressed only in woolen pants and flannel shirt, but wearing a thick blanket rolled around his neck and shoulders, making him look like a grumpy giant turtle.
Pellegrina can't help but laugh.
"What's so funny? Come on, prepare something, we need to get out of this place or we'll smell like smoke for the rest of our lives."
I'll be the Dragonborn with the grumpiest Orc companion of them all.
Notes
The next chapter is from Magrakh's POV, where he and Pelle recover from a battle against a dragon, and Mag panics when he discovers he's the Dragonborn.