One They Fear: Origins of Mimzi

by gingerlyspeaking

Following the main story of ES: Skyrim. A young wanderer returns to her homeland after nine years of travelling Tamriel. She is thrown into the frigid clasps of civil war— where an ancient beast returns to the skies. In Skyrim again, she relives her haunting past, whilst embarking on the discovery of her own blood and a foreboding prophecy.

2. Escaping the Keep

Mimzi and Ralof stumbled deeper into the keep. Their breaths slowing as they collected their bearings in the underground fortress. Ralof took Mimzi's hands and used a small dagger to cut her binds. She had survived the horror of Helgen, both execution and dragon. Mimzi's head began to throb, and her stomach twisted. She hunched over suddenly, grasping at her abdomen.

"What's the matter?" raised Ralof, placing his hand to her back again. As he asked, vomit spewed from her mouth, the fear and adrenaline for such a prolonged time had clearly taken a toll on the young Nord. She retched as Ralof stayed close, grimacing as she heaved. Mimzi coughed and wiped her lips before finally straightening up.

"Don't feel so bad, girl. No one could sit well with what just happened. I don't blame you," Ralof patted her back.

Mimzi croaked, "I don't think I've ever come face to face with death so many times in one day…" she took a few deep breathes.

"We're alive," optimistically beamed Ralof, "… you made it this far and you're not dead! The gods are with us today. Just don't forget that."

His smile soon turned to gloom as he glanced passed Mimzi. She noticed this and turned to see what he had discovered. It was a dead Stormcloak laid in the corner of the room, blood painted to his face, head, and shoulder. Ralof sighed mournfully and approached the body. He knelt down to check the pulse, the body was fresh, but no pulse was felt.

"We'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother," muttered Ralof. His weary gaze met Mimzi, "This was Gunjar, a fierce friend. Looks to me he was thrown by that dragon out there. His head got it good; tried to escape but… he bled out," he lamented. Ralof then began removing Gunjar's armour and weaponry, including an axe.

"…What are you doing?" exclaimed Mimzi, taking a few steps closer.

"We'll need to go deeper into the tunnel if we're going to get out of here. There are imperials already fleeing through and they aren't gonna take pretty to us, so you need a weapon and something hardier than those town clothes," he referred to Mimzi's attire, as she wore only a blouse tunic, travelling pants, boots and a hooded cloak. Ralof brought over the Stormcloak cuirass and axe, "…here, you don't need to wear our colours, but you at least need the cuirass, and take this, Gunjar won't be needing it anymore…"

Ralof handed Mimzi the axe, it immediately sunk in her hand. She was not a warrior, nor had she ever used a weapon like it before. Faced with imperials Mimzi knew she could be bested. These were seasoned warriors against a kid with an unruly-heavy axe.

Mimzi balked at the axe and shook her head, "I can't use this."

"Why?" protested Ralof, "I was swinging axes killing skeevers and wolves when I was half your age. You may just be a spring chicken but you're still a Nord, swinging that axe is in your blood, your ancestry. Now stop acting like a snowback and get that armour on. You want to see daylight again you'll listen to me."

Mimzi paused, waiting to think of a way to say no in a way this Nord would understand, but Ralof was a Nord. Most came with stubbornness that was equal to a restless bull.

"I can sneak through the tunnels, I'm quiet and I'm fast," stated Mimzi, "…I won't even need to fight."

"You'll sneak?!" cackled Ralof, "… how far did that get you in Darkwater Crossing?"

Mimzi's eyes glazed over, "… not very far," she shamefully admitted.

"Exactly!" blurted Ralof.

Mimzi reached her head through the cuirass and over. The smell was abhorrent, the stench of intense body odour and rotted blood. She breathed from her mouth and pulled the cuirass up over herself and through her arms. It was heavy on her shoulders and back. She couldn't comprehend how she was going to swing a heavy axe around while wearing an equally bulky cuirass. Ralof walked to Mimzi's side, inspecting her buckles, "… it's loose, here let me show you how to tighten it," he pulled on the straps from the side of the cuirass and led it through, "… you're tiny" his head shook, "…but this will give you more of an advantage than you'd think. It'll feel heavy at first, but you'll start to get used to it."

Mimzi felt like she was carrying around at least fifty pounds of weight that wasn't hers, she could already feel an ache in her shoulders.

"I can't imagine getting used to this," she grimaced as she pulled at her neck and rolled her shoulders.

"You will, trust me. You haven't done much hard labour in your life, have you? This isn't even our heavy set, Gunjar preferred light armour. Now try to swing at me, I want to see your form," Ralof held his sword in both arms for a block, "Hit the sword, of course. But don't go easy on me. I want to see what you can throw."

Mimzi could barely keep the axe steady. She reached the axe passed her right shoulder and swung, but hesitated last second before the swing hit. The axe clanged Ralof's blade but he had no pushback from the blow.

"Oh, come on!" he blurted abruptly, "… my ten- year-old nephew can hit better than that!"

"Shut up! I was… warming up. Let me try again."

"Plant and space your feet, and control your hips, don't let the blade take them with you. Your body needs to be a pillar when you swing," added Ralof, "Now again!"

Mimzi breathed out, spaced her feet and bent her knees slightly. She turned her torso to the right side a little as she reached her axe far behind her head. Ralof smiled "…there you go. Hit me!"

Mimzi swung this time with far more control and precision. The stance was gifting her the capacity to throw the axe in one firm swipe: even with the weight from her cuirass and the weapon itself. The axe hit Ralof's blade creating a sharp clang. His shoulders jolted as the axe struck his blade. Mimzi could feel a ringing in her wrists and forearms.

"Haha! That's it, girl. You've got a fine hit. Could be stronger but you will do fine. Now we just need to see whether you're ready to kill," he commended her, giving her a pat against her upper arm.

Mimzi froze then said, "…kill?" she uttered, "… you want me to kill imperial soldiers?"

Ralof turned to her and shrugged, "…you can do it. You'll have me there with you, I'll be doing the brunt of the work anyway. Besides, those milk-drinkers tried to kill you for absolutely no reason other than 'wrong place, wrong time', if I were you, I'd want revenge."

Mimzi timidly said, "… just seems like they're doing what they're told," she then grumbled, "…but that captain… the one who sent me to the block. Won't lie, she was a real piece of work."

Suddenly the gates from deeper into the keep rattled and clanked; clamoured voices came beckoning to their room. Ralof snatched Mimzi's arm and hushed, "Imperials! Take cover." The soldiers approached the gate debating amongst themselves of the current conflict.

"General Tullius is nowhere to be found, we have Stormcloak rebels on the run, Ulfric escaped and now a blasted dragon from oblivion has pulverized Helgen! Tell me again this wasn't planned, legionnaire, tell me!"

The voices arrived at the gate and rattled the metal against its hinges. "Get this gate open!" a familiar voice bellowed.

"Yes, captain. Right away!"

Mimzi grasped her axe tight. She had to breathe through her nose so the rapid breathing from her mouth didn't alarm the soldiers. They were unlocking the gate, eventually Ralof and Mimzi would have to emerge, but she waited for Ralof's move.

'Keep your hips steady as you swing,' she anxiously thought, 'Part your legs, bend the knees.'

The gate opened wide and emerged three Imperial soldiers, one of which was the captain at the execution block. Mimzi furrowed her brow, the grip on her axe grew tighter.

'What kind of person put you in charge?'

The soldiers took only a few steps into the keep entrance when Ralof roared a blood-curdling battle cry and charged, "Victory or Sovngarde!!"

The imperials yowled at the sight of Ralof's fury. He struck his sword into one's gullet, and blood began to spray from the legionnaires' neck and spattered onto Ralof's face. The soldier's body fell violently. The other two started on Ralof but he held his ground fast, fending off blows and dodging slashes. Mimzi had sat in the corner of the room for too long, too frightened and doubtful of her own abilities to help. The second imperial soldier was quickly disarmed as Ralof slashed the hand of him clean off, causing the sword to go flying with the soldiers' hand attached. He shrilled in agony before Ralof gashed his throat. The captain let her soldiers fall first to tire out the hulking Nord before she could have a go herself. She whipped her sword passed Ralof's head, he narrowly dodging the hit. His attention on the captain now, he blocked holding up his sword, reflecting her blows. Her ferocity was far more superior to her fallen comrades. Ralof's teeth clenched, "… is that the best you got?!"

Mimzi could see his strength weaken, knowing she didn't try something now he could die. He saved her, plucked her out of the crowd of those who needed help, and she wasn't even a Stormcloak. He had only meant well for the entire knowing of each other. He was a good man; and she wasn't ready to watch him die. The captain struck her sword once more causing Ralof to stumble and fall to his knees.

"The headsman lies dead, Stormcloak," the captain said, removing her helmet to gloat to her opponent, "… looks like you'll have to get your shave from me."

Ralof pointed his sword and tried to lunge but the captain kicked her imperial boot to his chest pinning him to the ground, causing him to drop his sword. He let out a growl as he fought to free himself.

Suddenly her sword dropped, and her head jolted forward. Her eyes went wide, and mouth fell; all the blood rushing into her cheeks as her body began to tremble. Mimzi had snuck up behind with her axe and delivered a final chop to the back of her neck, using the knowledge Ralof had trained her just minutes ago. The axe remained in her spine, and she fell to the stone floor, her body twitching and convulsing before she took her last breath.

Mimzi's heart could be heard in her ears. She breathed hard and quick. She gawked down at her handiwork in horror at what she had done.

"I… I just killed her…" she gasped, unsure if she believed it more out loud. Ralof peeled himself off the floor and stared down at the deceased captain with her.

"Yes, you did. You got to kill her," stated Ralof in between breaths, "…you only did what she did to you, only difference is no dragon came to save her. She made the call to end your life first. You finished it."

Mimzi looked up at Ralof who welcomed a smile, "…you saved my life, I thank you."

"No," she said, "… you're saving mine. I just returned the favour."

Ralof smiled warmly at Mimzi who returned a small smile in return, a welcoming change to him than her constant aloofness during the time of knowing her.

"We better keep moving, lucky these imperials opened the gate for us. I was actually not sure how we would get out of here without one," he proceeded through the gate before turning back to Mimzi, "…you should grab your axe from that imperial's spine, girl. You'll probably need it again."

"Oh! Right…" she gripped the handle of the iron axe and pushed it up the captains' wound and out. Releasing the blade caused a delayed spasm in the captain's dying nerves, making her legs twitch. The tower began to shake as dust flew from the stonework of the keep. The dragon was using its ungodly voice to bring down the structures, it was still wreaking havoc upon Helgen but knew its victims were fleeing underground.

"Yeah, we've been here too long," she uttered, staring up at the ceiling, "…we need to get out of here."

"I second that. Come. Quick!" Ralof gestured to the gate entrance and Mimzi followed close behind. They fled down what turned into a cave rooting under Helgen. Cobblestone became stone and light was only given by the torches hung up on rocks alongside the tunnel. There were crates and barrels cluttering the sides, full of East Empire Company merchandise. They eventually reached two passages. Suddenly the earth quaked, and debris chipped away until the shaking created the fall of boulders from the roof down over the path straight ahead of them, closing it off completely. Mimzi and Ralof stumbled upon the quake and tripped.

"Whoa! Whoa!" he pulled Mimzi back from the rockslide. The aftermath of dust erupted the two in fits of coughs and stinging eyes. Ralof hacked and hemmed. His eyes watered from the cave dust, "…damn… that dragon... doesn't give up easy."

Mimzi waved the dust from her view and got herself up from the ground, helping Ralof up as well.

"I guess we have no choice but to go this way," he observed as he pointed to a room to the left of them, he looked back at the path brimming with crumbled stone, "…if any of my guys went down that path, I just pray it's not a dead end."

They carried on through the room to the left, which was seemingly a storage chamber. They both could hear afar crackling lightning down further into the cave. Through the room was a descending tunnel where the crackling could be heard closer. It was accompanied by distant, sharp yelling and the blunder of combat. As they progressed down into the tunnel the sound of combat turned opaque. Someone was using a lightning spell. Mimzi had heard of magic users but only rarely seen them. She counted herself lucky to never had fallen victim to a spell, but she now feared that soon would change.

The unpredictability of magic users was immense, and Nord's didn't favour unpredictability in battle. Anyone who specialized in the arcane arts in Skyrim was to be a number of things; untrusted, belittled, feared, or respected, very few who attained the latter. It was an incredibly powerful tool to conform magic. Used primarily by the likes of elves and Bretons, but not Nords. It was deemed cowardly to fall to the reliability of magic to win your battles. The only good wizard was a dead one, a phrase much beloved in Skyrim. Much of this hatred deeply rooted from the collateral of the Great War. Many of the Empire's Nord troops were completely decimated in combat against the magic-weaving elves of the Thalmor. Ralof was a Nord who rightfully feared magic. Stories from his childhood instilled the notion that magic was only for the daedra worshippers and warlocks. Not even Sovngarde was a comforting thought in battle when some of these magic users possessed the means to trap souls for their own witchcraft, damning those inflicted to the unknown.

Mimzi and Ralof hastened through the tunnel where the strife was just in the next room and the smell of rotting flesh came to them like the strike of a blade. Chains and shackles dangling from the roof of the cave, swaying hauntingly.

"Troll's blood…" gasped Ralof, "…it's a torture room!"

Around the corner hung cages of withered human skeletons and bodies burnt to a crisp dangling from the openings of the bars. Prisons walled the corners of the room and tables assorted with chains, knives, spears and other various embalming tools lie next to them. In the centre clashed a Stormcloak soldier and two imperial agents, one was roasting the flesh of a fallen, agonizing Stormcloak with a lightning spell cackling from his fingertips. The other Stormcloak was fighting off his (much larger) imperial attacker. Ralof unsheathed his sword as he sped through to help his comrades.

"To Oblivion with you!" cried Ralof as he gushed his sword into the backside of the magic user, the lightning dissipating immediately after. The fallen man's assistant didn't take long to notice Mimzi and Ralof's appearance. He came at her first, who was standing still to the doorway, pallor and startled. The Stormcloak who had been fending the brute off quickly followed and did the same to him as Ralof had to the magic user. The sword stuck through his imperial armour, directed to Mimzi. The tall brute fell face first like a lumbering tree.

"You okay?" called Ralof to Mimzi from across the chamber. She gave a quiet nod, gaze stuck to the dead legionnaire. He turned his attention swiftly to the fallen Stormcloak, her cooked flesh emitting smoke from the lightning. Ralof knelt to his knee while gently cradling the Stormcloak's head. She was a broad, Nord woman with long, braided yellow hair. Her breath was scarce, her bottom lip quaked. Her body shook like a fish on land. She grasped Ralof's hand tight, the excruciating pain coursing her whole being.

"Ralof…" she gasped, "Jarl Ulfric… tell him…" she strained in cries. Ralof shushed as he stared defeated.

"Tell him," she strained, "I… I fought well. Tell him... ah! Tell him I died as… aggh as a daughter of Skyrim."

A single tear fell from Ralof's eye. Mimzi and the fellow Stormcloak stared on, the Stormcloak hung his head. The female rebel's eyes then went dull, and her expression faded as the pain drifted. Her last breath escaped her lips as every tensed muscle and nerve in her body fell still. Ralof released a deep sigh, closing his eyes tight and shaking his head.

"Damn it!!" he screamed, "damn the imperials!" he laid the soldiers head back to the floor of the cave and shot himself up, breathing raggedly.

"She was a true daughter of Skyrim," lamented the Stormcloak soldier, "she did fight well…"

"She was. And she died because you wasted your time fighting off the imperial oaf while she roasted like a spit next to you!" roared Ralof at his comrade.

The Stormcloak objected, "I didn't know he could shoot that lightning out of his hands! When he started in on her it was already too late; I had the brute on me…"

"Enough! I know I… I'm sick of seeing my shield sisters and brothers die!" Ralof fell back to lean on a nearby end table. His neck dropped forward and eyes clenched. His blonde hair fell to the front his his face. Silence and melancholy filled the room. The death toll of the war crippled Ralof. He knew without wavering that Skyrim was far better off without the influence of the imperials and the war was necessary to free his land of their control, but the insurmountable death that followed his cause was too horrific to bare. And now dragon's returning to Skyrim to pick off more of his kinsmen was a deep-seated hopelessness. Mimzi remained silent out of respect for Ralof, but he turned his face up to speak, his state dismayed, "…we should move on," he glowered.

"Yes…" softly spoke Mimzi.

"What of the Jarl, have you seen him?" Ralof asked to his comrade.

"No. Not since we were standing before the chopping block," the rebel replied.

"Damn it," strained Ralof, "I'm sure he made it out. He's Ulfric Stormcloak, after all."

"Denka and I were told he came through already from Rogir and Tilf, they went ahead. Clearly these two bastards weren't around yet when they passed here… Denka wanted to try and find him but…" said the Stormcloak soldier, mournfully looking to the dead, female Stormcloak.

"How long ago was that?" raised Ralof.

"Almost an hour ago now, a few minutes after we got into the keep away from the dragon. But who knows if they were telling the truth."

"I think they were, with any luck we can catch up to him. Is that gold in that cage?" gestured Ralof to the closed pen next to them, inside lied a dead mage with a filled coin purse, "… we'll probably need that when we get out."

Ralof went to open the cage, but it was locked shut, only a key could open it. He turned over the body of a fallen Imperial but could not find a key.

"Grimli, check the body of that one maybe there's a key," Ralof told the Stormcloak as he rummaged the spell-caster's body in hopes he'd still find it. Grimli knelt down and delved into the Imperial's pockets, but no key was to be found. Mimzi spotted a knapsack to the end of the room close to the tunnel leading out, dusted and pushed up in light debris. She walked over to inspect it, thinking the key could possibly be hidden there but as she rummaged, she could not find one, however she did find a few picks. For her, this was a relief, as she knew how to use them to get the gate open.

"Hold on, I found something," she exclaimed.

"Did you find the key?" asked Ralof, Grimli looked up from the body.

"No, but maybe I can get it open with these," Mimzi knelt down to the lock of the cage and inserted a pick. Living previously as an urchin on the streets of Elsweyr taught her a few things not many Nords were taught in a traditional raising. Picking a lock came naturally to Mimzi.

"You're gonna try to pick it open?" asked Ralof cynically. Grimli scoffed through his nose.

"Yeah, why you two have a better plan?" questioned Mimzi.

"She's not gonna get that open," chucked Grimli to Ralof, who was watching concerned.

"Watch me," she growled, "I've been doing this since I had to use my tiptoes to even reach the lock."

The lock mechanism was stronger than most, Mimzi had to hold the pick a certain angle as her other hand pulled the gate. She tugged at the gate a few times before it finally came lose and struck open.

"Nice job! Didn't strike me for the thief type but we need all the help we can get right now," praised Ralof as he ambled into the cage; snatching all the gold he could carry. Grimli rolled his eyes, not wanting to condone such methods as admirable.

"Here, I found a bag. Use it for the gold," she tossed the knapsack to Ralof.

"Thanks, girl. Now let's get out of this gods' forsaken keep!" he announced and wrapped the straps of the knapsack across his shoulders and picked up his sword. The three proceeded out the room and onto deeper and darker tunnels. Cages housing long-dead skeletons continued to dangle from the cave ceilings as their path went onward. Remnants of bones littered the gutters of the tunnels where a stream began to thread into the sides of the cave. Trickling water and what little light from the cave reflected off the water and danced off the walls. Underground vegetation was sprouting from the ground. They reached a grotto. Drip stone gleamed atop the cave's ceiling and green, transparent water layered the bottom of the cave. Three rope bridges strung from three hills of high ground in the grotto. Across from the cave towards the exit were three imperial soldiers standing by torchlight.

"Stop!" hissed Ralof, "…imperial soldiers up ahead."

They remained by the exit not moving but waiting for something or someone. Ralof crouched and hid behind stonework, Mimzi and Grimli did the same. Ralof whispered, "what are they waiting for? Can anyone hear them?" Mimzi listened closely to the distant rambling between the three imperials.

"Our orders are to wait for General Tullius to arrive, soldier. Now quit your bellyaching," one stated, clearly the captain of the trio.

"I'm not waiting to be killed by a dragon, we need to fall back!" an imperial pleaded back rather loudly, enough for Ralof and his companions to hear it.

Grimli growled under his breathe, "… to oblivion with all this sneaky business let's charge em," his battleaxe at the ready in both arms.

"Follow my lead, we'll surprise them," said Ralof, his head turned back to Mimzi and Grimli. The three crept over the first bridge, unnoticed and shrouded by shadow. Grimli breathed heavily through his nostrils and huffed. Grimli stopped as they got to the first summit and stayed in his tracks. Mimzi noticing, she turned her head.

Mimzi rasped in a whisper, "…what are you doing? We need to follow Ralof," she said impatiently.

"You want to learn something, little girl?" the large Nord creased an alarming grin and raised his battleaxe, standing straight, his brows curved, "…watch and learn… Raaaaaaaggghhhh!!!"

Grimli unleashed a blood curdling battle cry and charged towards the imperial soldiers, his battleaxe held up over his head.

"What in the Nine are you doing?!" cried Ralof immediately running to Mimzi and unsheathing his sword as his back was turned to her.

"Stormcloaks!" the imperials alarmed, drawing their weapons (which weren't much use against the likes of Grimli's gigantic axe, which he came flinging at full force). With one chop, Grimli crushed the captain's head in two: helmet and all. Ralof wasn't far behind and slashed the other imperial's belly. The last soldier fled as he saw his comrades brutally destroyed by the Stormcloak Nords. Mimzi hesitated yet again from getting caught up in the fight, to her it wasn't her fight. She was abetted by Ralof, who so far had handled the fighting successfully so far.

"Bahaha! Run then, little man," blustered Grimli at the imperial scrambling for his escape passed the last bridge through the tunnel.

"You knuckle-dragging, bulls' ass!" spat Ralof, his fists clenched, "I told you to lay low for a reason, idiot. We have a civilian with us, you wanted her to get killed in the crossfire so you could get a few seconds of glory?"

Grimli belly-laughed, "… few seconds of glory is a lifetime of glory, friend. And she's fine! Look at her, she's still standing there like a lost baby deer in the woods. Don't worry, you'll get your little fawn home safe, Ralof."

Ralof rolled his eyes and jogged to Mimzi, standing behind in the shadows. Ralof called "Are you alright? Sorry about that, my comrades come with honour the lot of them, but much ain't brimming with brains," he shook his head in annoyance, "…but we sure showed them imperials, hopefully that'll be the last of 'em."

"I'm okay. You two made short work of those two. I feel like I should be helping but…" she went quiet, "I'm scared," she glanced to the bloody soaked head of the imperial with a caved in skull. Her disgust twisted her stomach, "I'm not built for any of this."

"Hey! You two! You want to get out of these tunnels or not? Should we just stand around and talk some more? Let's go, already!" bellowed Grimli with his hands held to the sides of his mouth at the exit out into another cave.

"We'll revisit that. But for now, we need to go, girl. We are close now; I can feel it," he paced to the exit towards Grimli as Mimzi followed close behind.

"Through here," declared Grimli, "…you two walk ahead, I'll follow behind and keep guard."

The last bridge led through a narrow passage over a shallow creek. Light shined through cracks on the roof as if the surface was just above. Mimzi and Ralof went across the rickety rope bridge slowly one by one. The bridge led out to another open cavern littered in vast spider webbing. They turned to wait for Grimli, but as they did so another mighty quake shook the ground out from under their feet. The dragon was not yet done meddling the earth. Suddenly boulders rained from the roof of the cave once more, this time over Grimli as he just started over the bridge. Ralof yelped and Mimzi's jaw fell. The boulder's piled over Grimli until the entire path over that bridge was filled to the top of the cave with rubble. The light went dim, and quakes faded to null shakes. The dust from the collapse wafted into swirls and clouds before the two. Ralof pressed his lips together in a scowl.

"Farewell Grimli…" grumbled Ralof, his look forlorn "…may we laugh and celebrate our victories together in the Hall of Valor again one day."

Mimzi feared at any time the whole network of cave systems could collapse into themselves as the dragon persisted. She didn't wish to rush Ralof from mourning the loss of his comrade, but time was depleting and the longer they stayed the more likely danger would come.

"Ralof…" uttered Mimzi.

"What..." quaked Ralof. Before Mimzi could speak another word, she heard scuttling and shuffling coming from the roof of the cave. Her gaze looked up only to be met with disgust and terror.

"Ralof!" she screamed, "are those— are they… spiders! Gods!" she pointed frantically to four large spiders creeping from the top of the cave down to what they perceived as their next meal: Mimzi and Ralof.

"Agh, I hate these damn things!" yelled Ralof, his sword at the ready. These arachnids were Skyrim's infamous frostbite spiders, exclusive to the northern province and a lot larger than what one would think. They were as large as dogs and could eat one whole if they tried. They preferred to stay in their own nests but were known to creep out to the surface at night to snatch prey, which included men and elves. They were lethally poisonous and could spit their venom at their victims from metres away, drastically corroding skin and even flesh. They preferred their nests in caves, especially one of the likes of the cave they were in.

The creatures reached the ground and scuttled towards the two Nords, Ralof swung his blade at the first, and then dug the blade into its head. It let out an ear-splitting squeal as Ralof's sword penetrated through its skeleton and into its soft interior flesh. He was swiftly surrounded by these spiders, but Ralof's fear was dormant. He swung at the beasts relentlessly, they reached up on their hind legs to avoid the slashes; but still ensued their prey. One heaved and spat venom at Ralof's arm, causing him to yelp in pain. The venom slowly sizzled as it leeched Ralof's skin. Mimzi's bones chilled at the sight of their chelicera's gaping wide; mounds of venom falling from their fangs. One came at her head on and leapt; its eight legs spread wide. Mimzi let out a shrill as she collapsed to the ground with the monster atop of her. Its fangs chomped and went to engulf her neck, but Mimzi grasped tight to its chelicera and wrestled it away. The spider persisted but Mimzi delved deep into all the strength she had to keep it from clasping its jaw into her neck. Its several beady, black eyes was all she could see as its thin, sharp hairs brushed against her cheeks.

"Agh! Get it off me! Get it off!" cried Mimzi desperately.

She wrestled back and forth with the monster till she finally reached her foot up under its belly and kicked as hard as she could, causing the monster to be pushed back. It tried to scuttle towards her again but was immediately sliced in half by Ralof's sword. Mimzi's whole body shook, and her eyes swelled with tears. She fought for breath as she stared at the corpse of the spider, along with the other four who lay dead a few feet away. Large, bursted eggs sacks rotted on the floor of the ground. She then stared up at the roof of the cave to behold their nest, filled with decaying bodies all wrapped and withered in webbing. She looked down and saw an imperial helmet and a fresh body of the imperial soldier who fled from them just minutes ago. She couldn't help but ponder the horror that she nearly joined the bodies, if not for her courageous companion.

"I had the same look when I had to fight those things off as a pubescent boy. Creepy little bastards, too many eyes, you know?" chuckled Ralof as he held his afflicted arm out to pull Mimzi up, he winced but wasn't going to let himself show pain. Her trembling hand clasped Ralof's and he pulled her up slowly giving her enough time to adjust.

"We should push on, I think we're getting close to the surface," Ralof stated as he sheathed his sword. They ventured down a tunnelling path rooting with plants and a stream. It led down to a dead end but the light from the surface beamed through the cracks of the roof.

"This doesn't go anywhere," Ralof said, he then glanced to his side and noticed a dark, narrow path that merged from the tunnel, "…let's try this way."

"This looks like it just goes deeper…" added Mimzi in a shallow voice.

"We won't know unless we try, girl," replied Ralof "…come on, I have a good feeling."

The path was unsteady in protruding rocks, and so dark they had to clasp the sides of the walls to keep their ground. It led to an opening lit dimly. Tree roots hugged the walls and tethered the ground. The farther they ventured the opening grew larger and revealed another grotto adorned with stalagmite and a shallow haze on the floor of the cave. Deeper into the grotto Mimzi noticed an incline in the hill going left.

"I think you're right," she breathed in relief "…looks like there may be an exit up ahead."

"You see? The gods are with us today, youngin," beamed Ralof and began to heel-and-toe to the incline. Mimzi stayed close behind but due to the dark of the cave she couldn't see Ralof had stopped in his tracks abruptly, causing her to collide into his backside.

"…why did you stop?" she asked.

"There's a bear," whispered Ralof as still as a statue.

"There's a what?" gasped Mimzi.

"Duck down, now," Ralof crouched as Mimzi followed his lead, "…you see her?"

Mimzi glanced passed Ralof and could see a cave bear slumbering ahead. A crack above the cave shone down over it and the decaying skeletons that lingered by the animal. The only way to get to the incline of the cave was to walk almost too close to it and risk waking it up from its hibernation.

"You go ahead, I'll fight it," Ralof drew his bow and began to draw but Mimzi grabbed his arm and pulled it down, his vacant expression met hers.

"No, don't. You don't have to. Just… follow my lead," she whispered.

"You can't sneak past that bear without waking it up," Ralof scoffed, "…save yourself, girl."

Mimzi glared, "…yes, I can. You've taught me a lot today, now it's my turn to teach you something. Follow me closely and focus your weight to the front of your toes. Keep your arms to your sides for balance. Stay to the shadows."

Ralof nodded with an influenced grin, "…alright then, girl. Let's see what you can do."

Mimzi began to take off her cuirass with extreme care.

"You sure you wanna do that?" asked Ralof worryingly.

She muttered through the cuirass as she moved it over her head and to the ground, "I'm sure, let's go," she felt immediate relief from the weight of the cuirass.

As Mimzi's legs began to move the sound of silence was deafening. She had shifted into the shadows faster than Ralof could anticipate or keep up with. She had noticed he wasn't behind her as she had moved only several feet coming up passed the bear. She waved her hand over for him to follow but as Ralof shifted his feet his cuirass rattled in response. He ceased all movement and grimly glanced to the bear. It huffed and twitched to the result of the noise but quickly went back to sleep. Ralof slowly took his eyes away from the bear as it settled and looked to Mimzi, whose terrified expression kept to the bear. Ralof began to unstrap his cuirass as muted as possible. This alerted Mimzi, pressing her finger to her mouth in a desperate attempt to gain silence from her companion. He removed his scabbard, knapsack and quiver with as little clanging as he could control and held his bow in his right arm. Ralof then swept the cuirass off his shoulders and even his sea blue Stormcloak robes draped the cave floor. Underneath he wore a beige, sleeveless tunic which he continued to strap his scabbard and quiver to. He gently put his knapsack back over his shoulders.

Ralof began to creep himself along the shadows this time much faster and quieter than with his armour on. His weight pressed into the forefront of his toes with every step he took, and the pressure hovered in his calves as he struggled to keep himself balanced with the weight from his arms. Mimzi waited with bated breath as Ralof caught up. Together they clung to the shadows and crept passed the bear eagerly. Mimzi could feel a light breeze sweep through her hair and against her skin as they neared up the incline of the cave and passed behind a rock leaving the bear behind them.

"Almost there…" whispered Ralof. The dark from the cave began to illuminate from the exit and the breeze went cold and sharp much like the various reaches of Skyrim. The bear was behind them now and the need to crouch or move silently was no longer needed. Ralof stood straight and breathed out hard, "phew… that was close. Didn't think that I was much good at sneaking, turns out it's easier than it looks. Thank you, girl."

Mimzi smiled, "you're welcome."

Ralof placed his hand to her shoulder and smiled back, a kindred smile. The last two days Mimzi was barely able to remember any of it. Coming to Skyrim, the ambush outside Darkwater Crossing, nearly having her head chopped from her shoulders, and a dragon attack after centuries of believing the creatures were simply a good bedtime story plot device. She could only fully remember the last hour inside the cave with Ralof. To know all of the turmoil and fear that enveloped her world for these terrible forty-eight hours, that she had someone in her corner that helped her and fought for her was something she couldn't have foretold.

"I owe you my life, Ralof," the words escaped her mouth as her smile quivered. Ralof's eyes went soft.

He nodded with a beaming grin, "…and I owe you mine, girl."

"Mimzi", she finally proclaimed, "…you've saved my life a handful of times you can call me Mimzi."

"Mimzi," he continued to smile, "…it's nice to put a name to that face."

Another gust of strong, cold winds blew past from ahead. Ralof wandered ahead to investigate and let out a celebratory laugh, "…there's snow! Snow! I knew we'd make it! There's light up ahead!"

Mimzi and Ralof clamoured over the roots and climbed up through the snow-covered rocks which turned to earth. The light from the outside was blinding as they came up to the air of the surface. The air was frigid and harsh as it replenished their lungs and chilled their skin. The feeling of Skyrim's brisk air was a feeling that had been taken for granted by the two Nords until now. As many races of Tamriel would greet Skyrim air with hardship, as Nords, Mimzi and Ralof greeted it like coming up for fresh air. Especially after fighting for their lives from the smoke-ridden collapse of a town destroyed by a dragon, and a cavern with unpredictable dangers around every corner.

The light settled as her eyes adjusted and Mimzi was able to distinguish tall, frosted pine trees and reaching mountains cradling her homeland. The sun shining as mountain flowers in red and blue blossomed up towards the light. The enchanting fragrance of the chilled air and pine trees was as welcoming as an embrace. Mimzi was now in a familiar Skyrim she had almost forgotten, the firsts breaths out of the cave were her first breaths in Skyrim after nine years. Not the coming over the mountain pass from Cyrodiil and being captured by Imperials, but right now. Mimzi was finally home. Because now she was safe.

Ralof breathed in fast and deep from his nostrils and breathed out with a grin, "…we made it."

Suddenly the echo of galloping wings shook their senses from the scenery and to the colossal, ebony black dragon flying just above them. He had clearly bored of smouldering Helgen.

"Get down!" gasped Ralof, pulling Mimzi down to a nearby snowberry bush and huddling down to the ground. The dragon soared past their bush leaving behind a strong gust of wind. He released an ominous roar as he faded into the mountain haze. Mimzi and Ralof trembled as they peaked over the leaves to see the dragon's midnight black wings disappear in the distance.

"There he goes. Looks like he's gone for good this time…" muttered Ralof in awe, "No way to tell if anyone made it out alive, but this place will be crawling with imperials soon enough. We'd better clear out. I know just the place we need."