Chapter 3
A Short Stop on Life's Journey
"By the Nine Divines boy! Don't just run from ruin to ruin and fight to fight! Rest awhile, laugh, create, eat, make love. It's a dark world and those little breaks make it worth living."- Words to Would-Be Adventurers, written by Rigile Doubleswords and published 3E 421
"So these are the legendary Guardian Stones, huh?" Hammel asked casually. "You know I've never actually seen them with my own eyes." He shook his head, "I never got around to it, didn't see the point, I guess. Then I spent so much time out of Skyrim that I didn't have the chance."
The trio of Standing Stones stood proud, lording over the nearby river. They were crafted from a dark marble, too impossibly smooth to be natural. Each had a constellation carved into them, the one farthest was The Thief, then The Mage and finally The Warrior. The grouped Stones reminded Hammel of brothers who, despite their differences, could always depend on the other. Hammel didn't want to admit it but he could feel something, some sort of strange power originating from the Stones.
The three escaped prisoners had been walking around the valley for some time, munching on bread, drinking mead, and making very little progress towards civilization. It was getting dark and Hammel didn't want to spend the night outside. Even a lone wolf could kill him in his sleep.
They hadn't spoken to each other for most of the journey and it wasn't until they came across the Guardian Stones that Lianna and Ralof showed any real emotion beyond exhaustion.
"That's too bad," Ralof said, "I always found a visit to the Standing Stones helps calm my mind." He moved closer and looked on reverently, "Aside from that comfort, I finally know where we are now."
"They're that special?" Hammel asked, trying not to appear incredulous.
"I'm disappointed that you even ask," Lianna said with disdain, "The power of the stars isn't to be ignored."
A woman's face appeared in his mind, pretty but worn out, with a few teeth missing. He looked up at her face and heard her words. "The stars are our friends, and our allies. They'll protect you even when I can't. The Lady who marked your birth will guide you along the way."
With sheer force of will, Hammel blocked the images of Ellaina Greymist. Thinking of his mother wasn't something he did by choice.
His internal conflict resolved, he shrugged, "Sorry. I always trusted more in my swords than the stars."
"These stones," Ralof explained, patting The Warrior casually, ignoring Lianna's outburst, "Allow you to harness the power of the constellations. Simply put, pick one of the stones, accept its blessing and you'll be better at certain things. What do you have to lose?"
He admitted, the logic was there. Still, "I was born under The Lady, and I don't know if she ever helped me."
Lianna snorted but Ralof responded simply, "Perhaps you need a different guardian, eh?"
Perhaps I do.
Hammel approached The Warrior. He'd been always told that The Lady was one of The Warrior's charges, so perhaps her battle-hardened master might serve him better. Stretching out his hand, Hammel brushed his hand against the Warrior Stone. He couldn't feel anything through the fur gauntlets so he removed them. When his bare fingers made contact he realised it was the smoothest thing he'd felt in many years as he heard the strong Nordic voice faintly in the back of his mind, "Do you accept my gift?"
"Yes." Hammel's solitary word seemed to have some kind of effect. The Stone blazed to life, The Warrior glowing a brilliant blue. A blast of light shone out of The Stone and into the sky.
Hammel clearly saw the stars of The Warrior shining despite the fact that it was still bright out. For a split second, he felt a strange energy coursing through his body. The moment passed and the feeling vanished.
"The Warrior," Ralof commented approvingly, "Good choice. Now then," he glanced down the simple dirt path to the left. "If we head this way we should reach Riverwood in less than an hour." He sighed contentedly, "Riverwood. It's been too long."
Lianna nodded her head happily, "Riverwood it is." The trio began moving in the town's direction. Hammel had no problem with the destination, he certainly didn't have other plans.
The surrounding forest smelled sweetly of crisp pine. The air was fresh. The beauty of Skyrim's country was magnified in comparison to the tunnels Hammel had been crawling around in earlier that day. The sky was a proud Nordic blue, the pines towering green giants, the river bubbled happily across from the dirt road. Hammel could barely believe he'd escaped death. It had been far too close for his liking.
"So, what happens if we get there and the Legion has a description of us?" Hammel asked, "Because I sure as Oblivion don't want another fight today."
"Riverwood is a small village," Ralof explained as they traveled. "It belongs to the hold of Whiterun. Whiterun is neutral in this conflict, so Riverwood is neutral." Ralof paused, thinking for a moment. "Besides that, my sister Gerdur practically owns it. Even though there are Imperial sympathisers within the town we'll be safe there."
"All the same," Lianna said, "If we do run into Imperials, let Ralof do the talking, okay?" She took a deep breath through the nose. "I can smell Gerdur's cooking now."
"How does your sister own the town?" Hammel probed, "Is she the mayor?" Travel was dull and his stomach was growling, conversation helped take his mind off it.
Ralof chuckled. "Nothing official, no. She owns the mill and therefore Riverwood's primary source of income. Though her husband, Hod, does most of the heavy lifting. They also have a share in the Sleeping Giant, the only inn in Riverwood and make some money from both. They're good people. They may not be rich but they're happy with their lives. I'm sure they'll give us a place to lay low for a few days at least."
"What about the others?" Hammel questioned, "Where will they go?"
"You sound like you care," Lianna snorted. "Thinking of joining the Stormcloaks?"
Hammel shrugged, "Not sure. I don't know where to stand."
"You'll have to decide some day," she stated coldly. Lianna looked at him oddly, as if gazing into his soul and seeing his future. He didn't care much for the scrutiny.
"Perhaps," he responded with a forced frivolity he didn't feel. "But not today."
"Lianna, he just got home," Ralof interjected. "No need to indoctrinate him just yet!" His eyes fell a bit, gazing at the dirt road to hide their expression. "When he sees what the Empire has done to Skyrim, he'll join us." Looking ahead, Ralof continued, "If any others survive, they'll head to Riverwood or back to Windhelm. We can rest a few days and recover our strength. Afterwards, we go our separate ways."
The little hamlet of Riverwood appeared on the horizon as darkness fell. A dog heralded their arrival by barking loudly but no guards came running. The lack of response seemed to originate from the fact that Riverwood didn't have any guards.
As the trio entered town, they heard an old woman tanning leather by the gate raving, "A dragon! I saw a dragon I tell you! Black as death and big as a mountain!" She ranted, spittle flying from her withered lips. Her warnings were unheeded. Perhaps no one else had seen it.
"The mill is on the left-hand side," Ralof stated, pointing his finger in the direction of the only mill visible. Riverwood couldn't have been more than a few dozen buildings, including the mill which took up most of the left side of the road. To the right of the main road were several more homes, what appeared to be a general store, and one larger building with a weather-beaten sign reading, "The Sleeping Giant Inn," and displaying the image of a giant sleeping under a tree. The road wound its way through the town, continuing off into the distance and out of sight.
"If I know Gerdur she'll still be working. It isn't that late yet!" Ralof chuckled, strolling towards the mill. He crossed a small wooden bridge which led to the equally small island the mill sat upon. Calling it an island did it far too much courtesy, the clump of land couldn't have been more than thirty square feet. A sliver of river divided it from the mainland but provided plenty of space for its wheel to turn.
Lianna looked all around the mill."Where is she? It's been too long since our last mead and sweet rolls night." Her gaze moved on to the mill's upper portion. A bulky man with a thick brown handlebar moustache and sagging paunch was dropping a huge log into the mill's track. He growled from exertion, wiping his brow with a handkerchief before pulling the crank and beginning to slice the log in half. "Hey Hod!" Lianna waved cheerily, "Been awhile!"
Hod turned sharply to face the sound of the voice. "Lianna?" He gaped, dashing over to the railing. He noticed Ralof next, "Ralof? What are you doing here?" Before Ralof could respond, Hod threw up his hands. "Never mind! I'll hear all about it in a moment! Gerdur is out back. I'll be right down!" Hod disappeared towards the back of the mill.
"Hod," Ralof shook his head humorously. "He's a good man. Don't know what my sister saw in him though." Once he'd rounded the corner and Hammel got a good look at Gerdur he understood Ralof's statement.
Unlike Hod, Gerdur was in excellent shape. She was an older woman but remained quite attractive in the rough-and-tumble Nordic way. She had Ralof's long blonde hair and enough sinewy muscle to lift the logs Hod moved earlier. Her eyes were a cool river blue and her skin was tanned from long hours spent outside. She wore a band of matrimony for all Skyrim to see.
Pity. Oh well.
Gerdur was currently lecturing a male Nord too young to have his first chin hairs. Jabbing her finger on his forehead for emphasis, Gerdur shook the woodcutter's axe in her hand menacingly. "I don't care who your father is! This is not a toy! Don't just leave it laying around. The cold season is coming and we haven't made enough coin to get through! If someone's pay is getting cut it..."
"Gerdur!" Ralof cried happily, "Glad to see you're well!"
Gerdur's harsh words faded away. "Ralof?" Her eyes boggled. "Lianna?" Dropping the axe, she rushed her brother, hugging him tightly. As the siblings embraced, Hammel stood by awkwardly, kicking a fallen wood chip. Hod came out of the mill with all the grace of a struggling horker, his meaty face red from physical exertion. He looked overjoyed at the sight of the Stormcloaks, wrapping Lianna in a bear hug.
"I'd heard rumours you'd been captured!" Gerdur said, her voice shaky. Tracing Ralof's face with her hands, she gazed at her brother in disbelief. "I thought I'd never see you again!"
"Uncle Ralof! Uncle Ralof!" A squeaky young voice shouted, accompanied by a dog barking. The patterning of little feet, along with one's not so little, followed. Glancing over his shoulder, Hammel spied a young boy, and large shaggy dog, bounding towards them.
The boy showed some of Gerdur's features mixed with Hod's oak-tinted hair. The dog was a Nordic wolf-hound, grey, and covered head to toe in shaggy fur. "Uncle Ralof! How many Imperials did you kill? Can I touch your axe? Hi aunt Lianna! Did you melt anyone's face off? Can I see your sword?"
"Frodnar!" Gerdur scolded, "Your uncle and aunt just got back! Don't pester them with silly questions."
Lianna ignored everything else, kneeling before the dog, "Hi Stumpy," she crooned, scratching the dog behind his ears. "Who's a good boy?" Stumpy responded favourably to the treatment, thumping his tail against the ground. She spoke to the dog with warmth. It felt odd to hear the Altmer say anything without biting sarcasm.
"Look now, Frodnar," Ralof encouraged. "Your aunt, new friend and I just got back from a dangerous mission. We need to speak with your mother and father alone for a moment." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Tell you what, stand guard by the gate. If you see any Imperials, tell us right away. It will be your contribution to the great cause."
"Me? Help the Stormcloaks?" Helping his heroic uncle clearly enthralled the young lad, his eyes became so wide that Hammel wondered if they'd fall out of his head. Leaning back, Frodnar looked at Ralof with all seriousness. "I won't let you or the Stormcloaks down uncle Ralof!" He dashed away, waving to his dog as he ran, "Come on, Stumpy! We need to watch for Imperials!"
"You humor him too much," Gerdur said with a sad smile. Her eye's watered with concern as her son skipped away towards the gate. The stick he held in his hand was clearly a mighty sword he was using to battle countless invisible soldiers.
"He's a boy, Gerdur, a little adventure will do him good." Looking between Gerdur and Hod, Ralof lowered his voice, "We'll tell you everything you want to know, but we need someplace private." He glanced at the people milling about Riverwood, "I know there are Imperial ears."
Hod pulled a key from his belt pouch, "Come into the house, it's safe there." Hammel got up and followed the four without speaking. No one had commented on his presence yet. He wasn't sure if he felt pleased or insulted.
The trip through Riverwood led them to a simple home, complete with thatched roof and picket fence.
Hod slipped the bulky copper key into the lock while the cow on the front lawn mooed at Hammel indignantly. She seemed upset by the presence of someone she didn't recognize, unlike the geese who ignored him out of spite.
The four Nords and lone Altmer entered the single-room home. It was cosy and warm, a well-stocked bar dominating the only corner not filled with a table or beds. Gerdur threw a few logs into the fireplace and fussed over it for a moment. The home was soon filled with the warmth of a blazing fire and the meaty aroma of boiling stew.
Everyone took a seat around the table except Hod, who went to the bar. The sounds of a large man rummaging through his collection of mead could be heard as Gerdur tackled the mammoth in the room. "Who in Oblivion is this anyways?" She gestured at Hammel, her eyes holding his attention. Gerdur's gaze locked with Hammel's own, as if seeing his innermost thoughts and sins.
"Hammel Greymist, Miss Gerdur," he answered, dropping his sack of loot on the floor next to his chair. "I've been back in Skyrim for less than a day. I've survived Legionaries, bears, and a dragon. I'm hungry, tired, and injured. But I'm not dead so it could've been worse."
"You cut out the part where you saved my life a few times!" Ralof added, taking the bottle of mead Hod passed him with a grateful nod.
"That's a bit of an exaggeration," Lianna muttered. "Thanks Hod." She took her own bottle from him, popped the cork, and began drinking.
Hammel drank deeply of the Nord mead he'd received. It was excellent and tasted of homebrew. He was halfway through the bottle before Gerdur spoke again. "Did you say something about a dragon?"
"Aye," Lianna answered, "A living, breathing dragon."
"They were waiting for us." Ralof began, putting his mead on the table. Hammel noticed he had barely touched it. "We'd come out of the forest by the Pale Pass when they ambushed us. Imperial soldiers, three for every one of us. After a battle we lost badly, Jarl Ulfric told us to lay down arms and surrender. Didn't want us all dying for nothing, I suppose." Ralof jerked his thumb towards Hammel, "Greymist here, as well as a few others, made the mistake of trying to cross the border at that exact moment and got caught up in the fight. The soldiers didn't ask questions, they just grabbed everyone they saw." Ralof paused, taking a long pull from the bottle before him. Hammel glanced down at the bloodstained tunic he was still wearing, struggling to believe this had all happened in less than a day.
Time flies when you're having fun. Or when someone tries to kill you.
"We were sent on a one way trip to the executioner's block at Helgen." Ralof took another sip, letting mead and words mingle together. "Hammel was about to lose his head when it happened." He clapped his hands together for emphasis, "Boom! This dragon flies out from nowhere, roaring like Dagon himself and burning everything in sight." The house went silent for a moment as the weight of Ralof's words sunk in. "After that things went mad. The three of us escaped through the tunnels under Keep Helgen." Ralof seemed to finally remember the others they'd left behind. "Has anyone else made it?"
Gerdur shook her head. "You're the first I've seen coming this way." Her gaze sank. "What about Jarl Ulfric...is he?" Her words trailed off, sentence unfinished.
Lianna shook her head, "Last time we saw him he was fine. Don't worry Gerdur, It'll take more than a dragon to stop Skyrim's greatest hero!"
Gazing into his mead, Hammel murmured, "Why us?" No one spoke. Gerdur looked at him quizzically. "That was a village full of people, hundreds! Women, children, elderly. All gone." He knocked back another mouthful of mead as if a strong drink could blur the memories of that day's events. "Why'd we escape?"
Hod put his arm on Hammel's shoulder, "Talos was watching over you this day. You survived for a reason! I'm sure of it!"
Ralof chuckled. "We got lucky, nothing more." It was his turn for a mournful expression. "I just hope the others had as much."
Gerdur was silent for a moment, looking down at the table intently. "Greymist, you're sure it was a dragon?"
"Positive." Hammel had never been more certain of anything in his life. "It flew this way after burning everything in sight."
"If it really is coming to Riverwood someone needs to tell the Jarl. We're defenceless. We need soldiers."
"Helgen had soldiers too," Hammel stated coldly. "It didn't help."
Lianna looked furious. Even the normally calm Ralof shot him a glare. Gerdur, however, didn't seem angry at Hammel's pessimism. "Be that as it may, I'd feel more comfortable with some of Whiterun's troops. Someone needs to go to Jarl Balgruuf and inform him of our plight."
The table fell silent, Gerdur's proclamation hanging in the air.
"I'll go." Hammel couldn't believe those words had come from his lips. "I've got nothing better to do. The Empire I served abandoned me. I have no friends, no family." He gave a self-deprecating smile, "If I die, no one will miss me." He looked around the table, "Of course, anyone else is welcome to tag along."
Hammel's stomach growled fiercely, louder than normal in the silence. "Well, you can't go anywhere tonight." Gerdur announced definitively. "I've got stew cooking and a warm bed." She looked him up and down, "You'll probably want armor, because a mud crab could bite through that shirt. Alvor won't take customers at this hour." Gerdur glanced out the window. "Besides, it's dark."
Hammel started protesting but Gerdur would have none of it. "You helped my brother come back alive. The least I can do is offer food and lodging, besides, I made too much venison stew." Before Hammel could find another excuse, a wooden bowl full of piping hot stew was sitting before him while a goat-bone spoon was placed in his hand. "Eat."
The stew was calling his name. Three spoonfuls were already in his stomach before he realised he was eating. It was so warm and filling, the cold exhaustion fell away. Hammel wanted to swim in the stuff.
Frodnar had returned, eating stew along with everyone else. Very little was said during the first minutes of supper, the trio of escapees desperate to fill their bellies.
"How much do you know of the war?" Gerdur asked after her bowl was empty.
"Precious little," Hammel admitted. "Being in Elsweyr for several years makes one lose track of local politics." He finished the last of his stew as Gerdur served him another, "I know that Ulfric killed High King Torygg, using the Voice no less. He thinks he should be king. Queen Elisif thinks that's a load of horse dung so now there's a war going on."
"It's a bit more complicated than that," Gerdur admonished. "You know the terms of the White-Gold Concordat?" She looked at him, "You said you were a soldier in the Legion."
Digging into the second bowl of stew, Hammel answered, "I was, though the Great War ended thirty years ago. Some of the older veterans fought in that conflict but I was too young. My Legion fought the bandit army attacking free Elswyer south of Leyawiin in the years before she followed the rest of the county and joined the Dominion. I'd heard something about Talos worship being outlawed, but any information coming from Cyrodiil was suspect on the front."
"It's true." Gerdur's words hit Hammel like a warhammer, "Worship of the God of Men is now outlawed, all because of a treaty given by Elves!"
"The founder of the Empire, now spat on!" Ralof roared, pounding his fist on the table. "It's an outrage! Jarl Ulfric would have none of it. Talos is our God, and he shall be for all time! No treaty is going to stop that."
"That's terrible..." The words seemed so insignificant, but Hammel couldn't think of anything else to say.
"It gets worse," Lianna said grimly, her golden eyes giving her furious expression a terrifying twist. "The Thalmor can come and go as they please throughout the Empire and they have the authority to take anyone who won't abandon the worship of Talos." Her gaze fell, "They drag those poor souls back to their embassies. Those we can't save..." Her words faded away, "We don't hear from again."
Hod stood, pacing back and forth across the room. "No one sees the Thalmor agents unless they want to be seen. I've had friends who just..." He stopped mid-sentence, gazing intently into the fire, "Disappeared."
"That's why I fight," Ralof growled. His words rang true but Hammel could tell there was more. Ralof had other reasons beyond religion and revenge. Lianna didn't bother voicing hers. She'd made them clear on the cart.
Hod's gaze moved between his son, who'd passed out on the floor and was sleeping happily with his dog, and the window. Hod's fear that Thalmor agents would emerge from the woodwork and take his son away was written across his face. His pacing suddenly stopped and he stared out the window into the darkness. "Gerdur," he asked after some length, "Are we expecting company?"
"No," she answered. "Why?"
Hod was moving towards the door as he answered, "Because there are several torches drawing closer to Riverwood."
Hammel stood shakily to his feet. Hod threw the door open and dashed towards the light, grabbing an axe from the wood pile as he went. Hammel followed with a stolen Imperial sword in each hand. He wasn't sure what the others did, his focus was on the torches.
Following Hod closely, the two men made quick progress to the town gate. Alvor, the town blacksmith Gerdur mentioned earlier, was already present, gazing into the blackness with his hammer in hand. The blacksmith's dark beard blended perfectly with the night around them, reminding Hammel of other things that hid in the darkness. A few assassins he'd tangled with popped into his mind. "What do you think, Alvor?" Hod asked, "Bandits?"
"They're injured," Hammel stated. He pointed to a torch on the left. "See how it's wavering? The carrier is wounded, the left hip judging by the tilt. He's not the only one, by my guess."
"Ho!" Alvor shouted cupping his mouth with his free hand, "Are you friend or foe?"
"By Malacath! We've got wounded here. There's no time for foolish games!" The voice was gruff and definitely not human.
"I know him," Hammel told Hod after a moment's thought, "He was with me on the cart. An Orc." Hammel approached the torches. "Help's on the way!" He shouted. As he drew near, the torch finally illuminated the arriving man.
It was the Orc.
Standing in the flickering light of the torch, the Orc's features were clear to Hammel. He was tall but surprisingly light on muscle for an Orc. His skin was the typical green-grey. Dull yellow eyes looked out over a long, dark beard that worked its way down his chest. His face was free of scars with one obvious exception. The lone scar traced its way down the right side of his face, probably a slash from a jagged piece of stone. His right ear was tattered, like some beast had bitten the top clean off. His once proud mage robes were dishevelled and his ring-covered hands were stained with the blood of the woman in his arms.
Hammel pressed his fingers against the female Stormcloak's neck, her pulse was faint but present. "She's alive." He observed coolly, "You couldn't do anything for her, mage?"
"Restoration isn't my specialty," he responded without rising to Hammel's bait. The Orc's voice was rough and deep, like the depths of the ocean. "I did what I could to slow the bleeding and stabilise her, but she needs a healer, and quickly."
"Orgnar and Delphine," Hod answered, supporting one of the injured Stormcloaks, "They run the Lonely Giant. Orgnar's a healer."
"Raina isn't the only one needing immediate attention," the Orc rumbled, nodding at the body in his arms. "At least two others won't last the night without treatment." His tone was devoid of emotion, he either had an iron will or was in shock. "Most are running on pure adrenaline." One of the Stormcloaks collapsed, punctuating his words. He simply fell, face first, color fading from his skin.
Other villagers were among them now, rushing out to aid the survivors. Hammel's hands were around the fallen Stormcloak, dragging the man to his feet. Ralof, Lianna, and Gerdur were providing similar assistance to anyone they could. It seemed almost everyone in the village was helping. People Hammel didn't recognize were offering billets or bringing out food and drink. The Stormcloaks in decent shape seemed overjoyed by the hospitality.
"This way, Mage," Hammel said, "I saw the inn's location earlier."
"Clobnak gro-Grogork," the Orc stated. "That's my name, though most call me Clob." He was following close behind Hammel, Hod, and another Stormcloak. "And you? What do others call you?"
"Hammel," responded the Nord, moving the semi-conscious Stormcloak along as quickly as he could. "Once a son of the Legion. Now, of nothing."
The Sleeping Giant loomed in the darkness, standing out like an actual giant. Hammel took the steps as quickly as possible considering his load, listening as Clob followed suit. It was hard to tell who opened the doors to the Sleeping Giant, but Hammel was immensely grateful to them as he entered the inn.
The inside was aglow with the light of candles and torches, a warm feeling radiating from the very woodwork. The floors were made of hard-packed dirt and the walls were covered with several tapestries. The most prominent was the image of a giant sleeping under an apple tree he'd seen on the placard outside. An alchemy lab was in the far corner and a simple bar took up the rear wall. Hammel imagined it would seem almost homely under different circumstances. The large common room had been rapidly repurposed, the tables and chairs pushed against the oak walls.
A single table, clearly intended for food and now providing another service, remained in the centre. A grey blanket had been laid across it to provide some small comfort for its future occupant. Standing behind the table was a woman, possibly in her late fifties, and a slightly younger man. The woman had pulled her greying-blonde hair back into a business ponytail. She was lined from age, with the hint of old battle scars, but hardly looked as old as she should. The man had his fair share of wrinkles, long dark hair working its way to his shoulders, hands stained from mixing various potions and concoctions.
"Who's dying the most?" He asked deadpan, his eyes taking over everyone gathered. "Orc, set that woman on the table. Delphine, get that one a big bowl of horker stew. That'll get him up and running" He nodded at the man Hammel was supporting. Gazing past Clob, as the Orc tenderly laid Raina onto the table, Orgnar asked, "What in Oblivion happened to him?"
Hammel pushed the man slumped over his shoulder onto one of the nearby benches, looking at the new arrivals Orgnar had addressed. Thangar and Natala held a man between them, half of his body blackened and covered with the most vicious burns Hammel had ever seen. "A damn dragon!" Thangar snapped, expression hidden behind his helmet, "That's what happened!"
"Oldan got caught in a blast of dragon fire," Natala looked at the barely conscious man between her and her friend. "Well, most of him anyway."
Hammel noticed Delphine's eyes perk up at the mention of a dragon as she brought the bowl of requested stew to the exhausted Stormcloak. "Eat this," she commanded, shoving the bowl into the man's hands. The steel in her voice left no room for argument. Hammel removed the man's leather helmet, giving the tired Stormcloak some room to swallow. Despite shaking hands, the Stormcloak managed to eat several spoonfuls, bringing a little more color into his cheeks. Delphine looked like she was about to interrogate Hammel when Orgnar spoke.
"A dragon?" His tone made it clear how much faith he put in Thangar's statement. The innkeeper finished, moving Raina's garments aside and liberally applying some kind of foul-smelling ooze over a vicious blade wound. "There hasn't been a dragon in Skyrim since..." He paused, adding a liberal amount of the grey-green slime to his hand, "Well since before the Third Era." Orgnar slathered Raina's side with as much of the slime as possible. Hammel got a good look at the wound Orgnar was treating, shocked she was breathing at all.
Thangar clearly wasn't happy about having what he'd seen be so casually dismissed. "Oh?" He snapped, "Then how do you propose Oldan got burned? You think he was standing too close to a campfire?"
"Enough!" Delphine ordered, shocking everyone into silence with her commanding tone and presence. "Orgnar, is she going to make it?"
"Hard to say," he responded simply. "She's lost a lot of blood. My salve should keep her from losing any more. Truthfully, she needs a priest. But since we don't have one of those, food and rest will have to suffice."
"Take her to the side room there," Delphine instructed Clob, gesturing towards one of the rooms. "She can rest as long as she needs." The Orc nodded his thanks, picking Raina up with the gentleness of a master glass-smith handling his latest creation.
Orgnar waved the others forward, indicating the burn victim should be next. Hammel sat down on one of the nearby benches and leaned back against the wall, the warmth of the inn massaging his battered body. He only meant to close his eyes for a moment but it had been such a long day and the inn was so warm…
"Keep up, Hammel!" The young Dunmer shouted, looking back over his shoulder at the Nord. Young Hammel didn't respond, instead putting on another burst of speed, attempting to catch his friend. Meat Pies huffed and puffed behind him, the pudgy Argonian boy moving with the grace of a beached horker. That wasn't his real name of course, but the young Nord and his Dunmer friend Oryn couldn't pronounce it. So, in true childhood fashion, they took to naming him after his favourite meal. Meat Pies didn't seem to mind.
"I'm trying, Oryn!" Hammel said angrily, his twelve-year old body pushing itself to the limits. "What's so neat anyway? I've seen everything!" Solitude's ancient buildings looked down fondly at the boy who'd climbed them all. Yet Oryn was promising something neat. Was it apple pies left out by a careless cook? If so, they'd be gone soon.
"It better be neat, considering how far we've run," Meat Pies complained between breaths, gasping as much air as he could into his bulky frame.
Hammel nodded, "I hope so," his mop of light brown hair bouncing. Ahead of him, Oryn charged up a set of steps carved into the side of the ancient building directly before them. Whatever the Dunmer had in mind was atop the roof. Hammel followed Oryn closely with Pies bringing up the rear. The early snows had already arrived, tiny flakes fell as the trio climbed. The cold didn't bother Hammel much, he'd experienced it all his life, but Pie's teeth were already chartering and his tail shaking.
"Here we are!" Oryn gestured across the roof, "The jumping point." He paused for dramatic effect before shaking his head of snowy-white hair. "That's what I'm calling it anyways."
The roof of this house was typical of any in Solitude, flat and empty. There wasn't a chest, drainpipe, or anything at all that seemed worth the climb. "I don't see what's so great?" Hammel complained, sitting down on the rooftop's edge. The wind rustled his hair ever so slightly, causing Pies to pull his fur cloak tighter.
"That's because you aren't standing here, stupid," Oryn said sarcastically. "Stand next to me." Grudgingly, Hammel got up from the stone ledge and walked across the roof to his Dunmer friend. Standing next to Oryn, he took a long glance in the direction the Dark Elf was pointing.
Just ahead was another house, shorter than the one the trio was standing on, almost daring them to jump for its roof. "See?" Oryn announced, "It'll be easy. We jump from this roof to that one! We'll be just like the Grey Fox!"
Hammel gulped, looking down at the frozen stone below. "I don't know Oryn..." He muttered, "That's a long way to fall." The young Nord sucked in his breath, "I'm not as spry as you."
"Come on Hammel!" The Dunmer implored, "It's not that far. Pies could make the jump!" His red eyes looked at Hammel with disdain. "You aren't afraid are you?" He snorted. "Come on Hammel...Be Brave."