Well, here is my attempt to translate my own story. As I am not a native English speaker, it likely contains some awkward phrases and a few blatant mistakes. I apologize in advance for that.
This story is still a work in progress in its original version, so the one-chapter-a-week release rate I plan might slow down once all the already published chapters have been translated. However, we have a few months to go.
As usual, the places and characters you may recognize are the property of Bethesda.
Happy reading!
Chapter 1 - Unbound
The cold wind of Skyrim whipped Hunfen's face, causing him to whimper. He tried to huddle up, despite his bound hands, seeking protection from the cold. His leather clothes, tailored to his size a few months ago, were now a bit too tight for the eleven-year-old boy. The leather had been carefully crafted to offer some rudimentary protection, a testament to his father's concern for his safety. Hunfen had always been a curious child, enjoying observing things without being noticed. The landscapes of Skyrim were like a series of wonders to him, and he had always managed to stay hidden and out of danger, until this day.
Jolted by the bumps of the road, the cart tossed Hunfen around, gradually waking him up. The last thing he remembered was trying to watch a battle between Imperial soldiers and Stormcloak rebels. He recalled the clash of swords and the cries, then the disdainful face of an Imperial captain before everything went black. Pretending to remain unconscious, he opened his eyes slightly and observed the other prisoners.
The man to his right was immense and wore a large fur coat. He resembled the Jarl of Windhelm, whom his father had pointed out to him once when they had stayed in the city for a while. The two others were strangers to him: the first, a sturdy man with blond hair falling to his shoulders, wore the uniform of the Stormcloaks, while the other, a brunette with a dirty face, was modestly dressed and far less imposing. He was clearly not a warrior.
The dull rumble of the wheels on the stones almost drowned out the prisoners' voices, making it difficult to understand their exchanges. Hunfen listened intently nonetheless, trying to grasp the situation. The brunette seemed to be named Lokir and was apparently a thief. He was lamenting his fate, blaming the Stormcloaks for his misfortune.
"Damn you, Stormcloaks! Everything was fine in Skyrim before your rebellion. The Empire was calm. If you hadn't been there, I would have stolen that horse and already be in Hammerfell. I shouldn't be here, and neither should this kid."
The blond man, responding to the name of Ralof, replied bitterly, "We are all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."
"Silence back there!" shouted the Imperial soldier driving the cart.
Lokir, ignoring the warning, continued, "And him, what's wrong with him?" he asked, pointing to the man in fur, who was gagged into silence.
"Watch your tongue!" Ralof warned sharply. "You're talking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!"
Hunfen had to concentrate to stay still. So, he was indeed next to the Jarl of Windhelm! Rumor had it that the man's voice was as deadly as his sword. It was even said that he had killed High King Torygg with his shout not long ago. But the Imperials had gagged him, of course. The boy listened to the rest of the conversation more attentively.
"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion!" Lokir exclaimed, now also intimidated by his presence. "But if they've captured you…"
The thief's voice suddenly betrayed a sharp anxiety. "By the gods, where are they taking us?"
"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits," Ralof responded with resignation.
Hunfen's heart began to race. Was the Empire really going to execute them? Including him? He struggled to continue feigning sleep. Perhaps he could manage to be forgotten, like when, as his father had taught him, he stayed still long enough for the forest animals to ignore his presence, allowing him to kill a rabbit, sometimes a doe, with an arrow, ensuring a good meal for them.
The cart passed through Helgen's gate. As if to confirm his fear, Hunfen heard an Imperial soldier shout, "General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" The prisoners fell silent. The child tried his best to observe the town through his half-closed eyelids, his fear growing as he heard Lokir begin to implore the Divines in a panicked voice. Next to him, Ralof commented bitterly on the situation:
"Look at him, General Tullius! It seems the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves! I'm sure they have something to do with all this!"
Hunfen's thoughts were increasingly agitated, oscillating between fear and wonder. General Tullius, for real? The leader of all the Imperial Legion soldiers in Skyrim was also there? He felt a strong urge to get up and see the military leader, but his fear was stronger. As the carts went up the street, he heard a child among the inhabitants ask:
"What are these people in the carts doing, daddy? Look, there's a boy among them!"
"Get inside, son!" came the father's sharp response. "Right now!"
"Why? I want to see the soldiers!"
"Home, now!" replied the father in a tone that brooked no argument.
That was enough to convince Hunfen to stay still in the cart. Apparently, he was still very noticeable.
oOo
Finally, the convoy of carts stopped. Hunfen heard the other prisoners stand up and get out one by one, apparently without anyone paying attention to him. His idea of not moving must have been good. Perhaps he could slip away later unnoticed? His hope was quickly dashed when an Imperial soldier, without a word, grabbed him and roughly threw him out of the cart.
Hunfen got up as best he could, winded by the force of the action. He tried to hide his fear behind a neutral expression, but his eyes betrayed his anxiety. He looked around and saw the other prisoners lined up. In front of them stood the captain who had knocked him out earlier, along with another Imperial soldier holding a list of names.
The young Nord examined the two soldiers. The captain had tanned skin, dark eyes, and brown hair typical of Imperials, the inhabitants of Cyrodiil, the neighboring province that stretched south of the Jerall Mountains, and the heart of the Empire. The legionnaire accompanying her was a Nord whose chestnut hair was unusually long for an Imperial soldier. His brown eyes shone with a cold determination, but Hunfen thought he also detected a hint of compassion. Although he wore a simple legionnaire's uniform, his imposing and muscular build, his perfectly straight posture, and the impeccable fit of his armor maintained with rigor gave him a presence equivalent to that of his superior. This man radiated the pride of belonging to this army.
"Hadvar!" Ralof muttered, glaring at the soldier with a mixture of anger and sorrow on his face. The legionnaire held his gaze for a few seconds before unrolling the scroll in his hands.
Hadvar called out in a loud voice, "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."
Ulfric stepped forward and, following the captain's silent indication, moved to the side, heading towards the block. Hunfen watched him for a moment as he faced General Tullius. Seeing these two illustrious leaders gave the moment a solemnity that even the child could feel. The Jarl took a few more steps and stopped about ten meters from the headsman.
Then Hadvar called Ralof: "Ralof of Riverwood."
Hunfen thought he detected a slight hesitation darkening the soldier's determination. How well did these two men know each other? He didn't have time to dwell on this thought as the enumeration continued:
"Lokir of Rorikstead."
At the sound of his name, Lokir panicked, shouting, "I'm not a Stormcloak! You're making a mistake! You have no right!" He then tried to escape by running, but an Imperial soldier quickly ended his flight with an arrow to the back, killing him instantly.
Hunfen started at the sight of the thief's lifeless body falling, feeling his stomach knot with fear. He realized with horror that their situation was more desperate than he had imagined. This was real, the arrow or the axe, there was no escape! To drive the point home, the captain taunted them with a contemptuous sneer, asking, "So, anyone else feel like running?"
Hadvar was about to call the next prisoner when his gaze met Hunfen's frightened eyes. He frowned and addressed the Imperial captain, "What about this child? What should we do with him?"
Hunfen looked back and forth between Hadvar and the captain. He wanted to speak, to simply say, "I didn't do anything!" but his body seemed unwilling to respond. Tremors began to run through him. Then, a third face turned towards him. It was General Tullius. The weight of years gave the military leader white, thinning hair, along with deep and hard lines. Nevertheless, his gaze was reassuring, calming the young Nord a bit.
"What is a child doing here?" he asked sternly to his subordinates. "Where did he come from?"
"I don't know, sir," Hadvar replied with hesitation. "He was with the other prisoners when we found them."
"I'm the one who captured him, General," the captain interjected sharply. "He was near a skirmish between our troops and the rebels. He's probably a scout."
General Tullius narrowed his eyes, observing Hunfen closely, who felt increasingly uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze. "A child recruited by the Stormcloaks? Aren't you going a bit too far, captain?"
"With all due respect, sir, I've never seen a normal child wearing leather armor," the captain retorted with a voice full of disdain. "These traitors are capable of anything. They wouldn't hesitate to use a kid for their cause. He should go to the block, like the others."
Tullius sighed, his gaze examining the young boy once more. Hunfen could guess he was analyzing the situation while the murmurs among the civilians gathered to watch the execution grew louder. After a few seconds, which felt like hours, he made a decision: "No, we certainly won't execute him in public. Lock him up for now. I'll decide what to do with him later."
The Imperial captain gritted her teeth, frustrated by her superior's order, but she nodded. Hunfen felt a mix of relief and fear. He was glad not to be taken to the headsman immediately, but couldn't help but wonder what awaited him.
The officer firmly grabbed Hunfen by the arm and led him away from the execution scene. The young boy's thoughts were confused, overwhelmed again by fear and uncertainty. As they walked away, he cast a last look at the other prisoners, wondering if he would ever see them again.
As they neared the keep, Hunfen suddenly felt the captain's grip tighten on his arm. Her fingers dug into his flesh, causing a dull pain. "Saved by the crowd, huh, Stormcloak?" she spat in a mocking tone. She shoved him violently aside, out of sight of the others. Hunfen stumbled and fell to his knees, winded.
Panic seized him, making his heart pound in his chest. He looked up at the captain, whose face was filled with fury. She drew a dagger from her belt, the blade gleaming with a sinister shine. "Well, no crowd here, nor Tullius!" she hissed, her eyes filled with hatred.
Hunfen felt terror wash over him, his hands becoming sweaty and trembling. In a flash of clarity, he remembered his flame spell, which he used to light campfires during their travels. Perhaps he could use it to escape? However, magic required a concentration he didn't have. All he could do was watch the dagger's blade draw closer.
Hunfen closed his eyes, bracing himself for the worst. Suddenly, a beastly roar echoed, followed by a deep, sinister voice that was not human:
"Strun Bah Golz!"
The ground began to tremble. The captain stumbled, losing her balance and dropping her dagger. Hunfen reopened his eyes, surprised by the sudden intervention of a mysterious force that had saved his life.
A rain of stones was falling on the town. Cries and screams echoed from all directions as the smell of fire filled the air. The child watched the scene, stunned. Suddenly, he saw an enormous black dragon fly across the sky. The creature was far more imposing than anything he had seen during his forest expeditions. Each of its wingbeats created a gust on the ground.
A heavy stone landed right next to him, making the ground tremble again and reviving Hunfen's panic. He started running in search of shelter. Seeing Stormcloaks taking refuge in a nearby tower, he followed them inside.
The interior of the tower consisted of a simple round room with a staircase leading to the upper floors. Several Stormcloak soldiers had found refuge there, including Ulfric himself. His bonds and gag had been removed, and he had resumed command of his men, trying to get them to safety. Hunfen felt relieved not to be alone against the threat. The warriors paid him no attention, too busy preparing their defense against the dragon.
With a loud crash, the part of the wall at the top of the stairs exploded, taking one of the men who went crashing to the ground below. Through the opening, Hunfen glimpsed the dragon's head pulling back and taking a breath.
"Get down!" Ulfric shouted, throwing himself to the ground, immediately obeyed by his men. The child mimicked them, instinctively protecting his head with his hands. The dragon's inhuman voice thundered again:
"Yol Toor Shul!"
A blinding light pierced his closed eyelids, and he felt intense heat on his hands, back, and the back of his legs. Immediately after, he heard the dragon fly away with a wingbeat. At the top of the tower, everything that wasn't stone had been reduced to ashes.
Despite the horror of the situation, Hunfen saw in the opening caused by the dragon an opportunity to escape. Climbing the stairs as best he could, he felt dizzy when he saw the inn below, its roof blown off. He could never jump without killing himself! Ralof, who had followed him up the stairs, grabbed and lifted him.
"Hold on, kid!" the Stormcloak shouted. "We're getting out of here!"
Before Hunfen could protest, he was thrown forcefully through the opening. The seconds seemed to stretch as he flew through the air, praying to land safely. He hit a bed that had survived the destruction, cushioning his fall. Under the impact, the already weakened floor gave way, causing the bed—and the child still on it—to fall to the ground floor.
Hunfen coughed, trying to catch his breath. He quickly got up and tried to flee the ruined inn. Glancing back, he couldn't see any of the Stormcloak warriors from the tower. Hoping for their safety, he rushed out of the inn's rubble.
At the end of the street, a man was lying on the ground, severely injured. Next to him, a child no older than Hunfen was kneeling, crying. By his voice, he recognized the boy whose father had prevented him from witnessing the execution. Despite his condition, the father had not lost his firmness. "Don't stay there, son. Run!" he commanded, but the other boy no longer listened, unable to move. A legionnaire's arm suddenly grabbed him firmly, swiftly pulling him away from the scene. The next second, the dragon struck again, engulfing the father in a torrent of flames.
Hunfen followed the Imperial who had saved the boy's life and recognized Hadvar. He entrusted his ward to a civilian before continuing his way. Hesitating for a moment, the young Nord decided to follow the legionnaire. He had nowhere else to go, and felt safer near the soldier. As they ran through the ruined streets, Hadvar glanced back and saw him.
"Still alive? Stay close to me if you want it to stay that way!" he shouted, before turning back and continuing to run. Hunfen quickened his pace, determined to stay close to him.
Finally, they reached the square in front of the fort. Ralof was already there, weapon in hand. Hadvar stopped abruptly and drew his sword as well. The two men stared at each other for a moment, blades raised and ready to strike.
"Ralof, you traitor!" Hadvar shouted furiously. "Get out of my way!"
"We're escaping, Hadvar, you won't stop us this time!" Ralof replied, his gaze determined.
"Fine. I hope that dragon send you all to Sovngarde!" the legionnaire spat, before turning on his heel and heading towards the fort's barracks.
Hunfen watched the two men move away, torn between two choices. They had both helped him, likely saving his life. Which one should he follow? As he hesitated, a stone broke loose from a wall of a burning house, pushing him towards the Stormcloak warrior.
With no other option, Hunfen followed Ralof through the debris and flames consuming the town. They ran, short of breath, dodging the dragon's attacks that continued to wreak havoc. Finally, they reached the main entrance of the fort, where Ralof stopped to catch his breath.
"This way!" he shouted to Hunfen, before diving into the darkness of the fort.
The young Nord followed Ralof through the shadows. As the urgency of the situation subsided, exhaustion overcame him. Where was his father? How could he find him? He couldn't even remember the name of the place where they had stopped before this terrible day began.