Children of Skyrim

by Hieronymus Lex

Hunfen, a somewhat overly curious Nord child, finds himself abruptly plunged into the civil war and draconic troubles of Skyrim, where he will be forced to play a major role despite himself. But he will not be the only one at the mercy of fate, as the new generation is called to accomplish great things. (rated M because of a few chapters, but most of it is T)

7. 7 - Riften

Chapter 7 - Riften

The twin moons, Masser and Secunda, mingled with the brilliant auroras dancing in the night sky of Skyrim, faintly illuminating the carriage as it slowly traversed the rocky path to Riften. Hunfen, mentally exhausted from the recent events, had eventually fallen asleep, his tears drying on his cheeks. The night was cold, and though the wind blew gently, it made the young boy shiver in his sleep. Half-awake, he curled up against Lydia, instinctively seeking warmth and comfort. Satisfied, he immediately fell back asleep, nestled against the warrior.

Lydia felt the weight of the child against her and sighed, looking up at the sky, her thoughts wandering in the silent night. Her current situation was frustrating, to avoid using a harsher term. Since she had been old enough to fight, she had worked tirelessly to become a housecarl, dreaming of the day she would be assigned to protect a thane, or even a jarl, serving with honor and bravery. Instead, she found herself on an "escort mission," tasked with delivering a whiny child to Riften. Her dream of being, as the saying went, "the sword and shield" of an important figure, defending them against any lurking enemy, was now traded for a dull assignment primarily ensuring the child didn't escape before reaching his destination. It was an insult to her aspirations and her skills as a warrior.

However, as Hunfen's restless sleep made him snuggle closer to her, Lydia felt her heart soften. She glanced down at the sleeping child, thinking of all he had been through in such a short time. A slight smile curved her lips. This might not be the mission she had hoped for, but it wasn't entirely devoid of meaning. Someone had to protect this young boy and guide him through what was, for him, an adventure.

Lydia shook her head slightly to refocus on the task at hand. She adjusted her position, wrapping her arm around Hunfen to warm and reassure him in his sleep. After all, a housecarl's duty was to protect, and that was exactly what she would do, no matter who was at her side.

Lifting her eyes to the horizon, she noticed that the Throat of the World, the giant mountain towering over Whiterun, was now behind them. They had officially entered the hold of the Rift, drawing closer to their destination.

oOo

As the carriage neared Riften, Hunfen couldn't help but cast furtive glances at Lydia, appreciating her reassuring presence. He felt somewhat embarrassed about having instinctively sought her warmth and comfort during the journey, clinging to her like a toddler to his mother. Despite this embarrassment, he was glad to have the warrior by his side, her presence giving him a sense of security that reminded him of traveling with Ralof and Hadvar to Riverwood.

Finally, the carriage turned onto the path leading to the gates of Riften. Hunfen, wide-eyed, observed the city unfolding before him. Despite his fatigue and anxiety, his curiosity was piqued by this new place. Riften was built on the shores of a tranquil lake, with some buildings erected on stilts extending the city beyond its walls into the water. Birch trees with white and silver bark grew abundantly around the town, their delicate branches swaying gently in the light breeze.

The carriage came to a halt, allowing the passengers to disembark and enter the city. The buildings were quite basic, mostly constructed entirely from dark logs, giving the town a rustic and modest appearance. Only the more important residences had stone walls. Hunfen also noticed a canal running through the town in an arc, a few meters below the buildings, accessible by stairs descending at various points, creating an internal waterway. The streets buzzed with activity as inhabitants went about their daily routines, merchants shouted their wares, and artisans busied themselves with their crafts, all under the watchful eyes of the city guard patrolling nonchalantly. Despite the bustling activity, the young Nord couldn't shake a strange, oppressive atmosphere, though he couldn't pinpoint its source. Maybe it was the dark buildings, the murky waters of the canal that carried an unpleasant odor, or the stone castle emerging from among the other buildings. Whatever it was, he felt uneasy in this city, as if something invisible weighed on him.

Lydia noticed his troubled expression and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Hunfen," she said. "Riften has its quirks, but you won't stay long. Your father will join you soon, and everything will be fine." The child nodded, trying to dispel the feeling of unease that overwhelmed him. He focused on Lydia's footsteps, following her through the cobblestone streets of the town, observing the buildings and people they passed. Deep down, he hoped Lydia was right and that his father would arrive soon. But for now, he had to face this strange city and the oppressive atmosphere surrounding it.

Lydia and Hunfen finally arrived at Honorhall Orphanage, a modest building set against the city wall. They entered the front door and were greeted by a young woman with brown hair and a kind, gentle face.

"Hello," she said with a warm smile. "I'm Constance Michel. How can I help you?"

Lydia explained the situation to Constance, mentioning Jarl Balgruuf's instructions and handing over a donation from him for Hunfen's care. Constance nodded understandingly and led them further inside the orphanage.

An old woman with a stern face and harsh features entered the hall. "This is Grelod, the headmistress of the orphanage," Constance introduced, gesturing toward her. Grelod cast a hard look at Hunfen. "Another mouth to feed!" she muttered, examining the young boy from head to toe. Constance briefly displayed a disapproving expression before turning back to Hunfen. "Don't worry about that, my boy," she reassured him. "Come, I'll show you where you'll sleep."

Before they could move away, Grelod grabbed Hunfen's arm firmly. "Wait a moment, boy!" she said authoritatively. "Here, children don't need such things!" She roughly removed Hunfen's dagger and armor, placing them on a nearby table. "You'll get them back when you leave here!" she added with a sarcastic sneer.

Hunfen nodded reluctantly, torn between the urge to protest and the fear of further angering Grelod. He followed Constance through the orphanage, casting a last sorrowful glance at his precious belongings. Lydia, who had watched the scene silently, approached Hunfen. "I have to return to Whiterun now," she said gently. The young Nord nodded, then, overcome with sudden melancholy, stepped forward and hugged the warrior. After a moment's hesitation, she returned the embrace, the warmth of her arms comforting the child one last time. Finally, Hunfen watched her leave, struggling to hold back the tears that the sudden feeling of abandonment brought to his eyes.

oOo

In the following days, Hunfen met the other children of Honorhall Orphanage. In their small group, each had their own personality and story. There was Samuel, an Imperial boy with brown hair and piercing eyes who, being slightly older than the others, naturally took on the role of the group's leader. He was protective and looked after the other children like an older brother. François Beaufort was a young Breton with blond hair and a dreamy gaze. His blue eyes sparkled every time he told, with unshakable faith, that his parents, who had left him there years ago, would soon come to fetch him. He often spent time gazing at the sky, as if searching for a sign of their arrival. Hroar, on the other hand, was a Nord child with curly chestnut hair and pale skin, his face freckled. Shy and reserved, he had trouble integrating into the group and often cried at night, always seeking a reassuring presence. Lastly, Runa, the only girl in the group, was a Nord with light brown braided hair and captivating emerald-green eyes. Spirited and resourceful, she had a fiery temperament and didn't hesitate to take on challenges to prove her worth. She had developed a maternal instinct towards the other children and was particularly close to Hroar, calming his nighttime cries. Hunfen also learned about another boy named Aventus Aretino, who had managed to escape from the orphanage not long ago. The children whispered about him, both admiring and envying him.

Hunfen quickly discovered the harsh reality of life at the orphanage. Headmistress Grelod, ironically nicknamed "the Kind," was a cruel and abusive woman. She never missed an opportunity to belittle the children, constantly reminding them how unwanted they were and that they would never be adopted. Despite this, they were all forced, under threat of punishment, to tell her how much they loved her and thank her for her supposed kindness. For the other children, this phrase came automatically, without any conviction, like a meaningless chant. The material conditions were also dire, lacking the slightest comfort: Grelod watered down the milk to save money and threatened to deprive the children of their outings in the town if the place wasn't kept clean. After bedtime, he could hear the headmistress mumbling or complaining to Constance about the children. She accused Runa of stealing seven septims from her, threatening to throw her in the dungeon. She scolded Samuel for his role as a leader, got annoyed with Hroar's nightly tears, threatening to use her belt if he didn't stop crying, and couldn't stand François constantly talking about his parents, wanting to force him to accept his fate.

That night, long after dusk, the orphanage was silent. Grelod had finally fallen asleep, leaving the children alone to share a rare moment of respite. Hunfen joined the others gathered in the center of the dormitory, where a candle had been lit. Their faces were faintly illuminated by the dancing flame, and they tried to whisper as quietly as possible.

Samuel was the first to speak, his words tinged with mystery and fear. "The Headless Horseman's ghost passed near Riften last night. I heard a guard talking about it! He roams Skyrim at night, supposedly eternally searching for his head lost in the battles of a long-ago past."

The children shivered, fascinated by the frightening tale. François Beaufort, wide-eyed, added, "They say if you meet him, he asks you to help find his head. And if you can't, he curses you!"

"I hope I never meet him," murmured Hroar, trembling slightly. "There's already enough here with Grelod!"

"Speaking of Grelod," Runa intervened, her excitement evident in her gestures. "I heard rumors about Aventus. They say he went back home to Windhelm. But that's not all! They say he's performing the Black Sacrament! For Grelod!"

The other children's eyes widened, surprised and excited by this rumor. An exclamation was heard, followed by a "Shh! Keep it down!" François, his eyes reflecting the candlelight and a broad smile on his face, said, "Can you imagine if it works? We'd see an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood come by, and poof! No more Grelod!"

"But won't that cause more problems?" Hroar asked, worried. "Who would take care of the orphanage?"

"Doesn't matter, it'll still be better than that hagraven!" retorted François with a mischievous grin.

Hunfen silently laughed. The comparison of Grelod to those monstrous hybrid creatures, part human and part avian, was astonishingly fitting. Nevertheless, he felt a mix of concern and skepticism at the idea of calling upon a group of assassins to rid themselves of the old woman. From what he had heard, the Dark Brotherhood only offered their services for a sum of money far beyond the means of most inhabitants of the Empire.

François and Hroar then shared their recent adventure. "We managed to sneak out last night!" François whispered enthusiastically. "It's thanks to Mr. Brynjolf! We saw him again, and he taught us more lockpicking tricks!"

Hroar nodded, his eyes shining with pride despite the fear that still inhabited them. "It was incredible. He also showed us how to walk without being seen! And we even managed to get into the empty house by the lake on the other side of the town without getting caught!"

Hunfen was intrigued by this mysterious Brynjolf. "I'd love to meet him one day," he said dreamily. "He seems to know so many interesting things!" The other children nodded enthusiastically.

Suddenly, a creaking sound came from a nearby room. The children instantly froze, fearing Grelod had awakened and would catch them in their forbidden conversation. They exchanged worried looks, then hurried back to their beds as quietly as possible, extinguishing the candle and covering themselves with their blankets to shield themselves from the cold and Grelod's wrath.

Hunfen held his breath, listening carefully to determine if Grelod was indeed awake and heading towards them. Minutes passed, and no other sounds disturbed the night's silence. He gradually relaxed, reassuring himself that the creak might have been just the old building settling. Eventually, he fell asleep, like the other children.

oOo

The following evening, François and Hroar decided to take Hunfen with them for another nighttime escapade. The two children wanted to show him the abandoned house they had managed to enter a few nights earlier, thanks to the tips from the mysterious Brynjolf. Hunfen, both excited and anxious, eagerly accepted their invitation.

After ensuring Grelod and Constance were asleep, the three friends sneaked to the orphanage's main door. François, flashing a mischievous smile at Hunfen, pulled out a lockpick and began unlocking the door. Once outside, they moved stealthily toward the canal, descending to the lower bank. Walking along the water's edge, below street level, they could move much more discreetly towards the mysterious house. Hunfen tried to stay in his friends' footsteps, imitating their silent movements, carefully avoiding falling into the water. At the other end of the path, the door of the abandoned house posed no more problem for François. They explored the different rooms, imagining living in this place all by themselves. Hunfen couldn't help but smile, the thrill of adventure heightened by the fear of being caught.

After a while, the boys decided it was time to return to the orphanage before their absence was noticed. Retracing their steps along the canal, they climbed back up to the orphanage. Unfortunately, as they tried to sneak back into the dormitory, Grelod suddenly emerged from the darkness, her eyes filled with rage. François and Hroar, alerted by the noise, managed to hide just in time, but Hunfen wasn't so lucky.

Grelod grabbed Hunfen's arm, squeezing hard. "You little rascal! Did you really think you could fool me?" she yelled. She dragged him towards the main room, determined to punish him severely. Hunfen struggled, terrified, as Grelod shackled him.

Once Hunfen was securely tied, Grelod approached him, her eyes gleaming with anger and cruelty. "You're going to regret disobeying, you insolent brat!" she threatened.

Panicking in the face of Grelod's fury, Hunfen cursed his powerlessness. With his hands bound, he couldn't summon his magic, leaving him at the mercy of the crazed old woman. He desperately needed the strength to free himself, to protect himself from this fury, to repel her with his sheer will. What he desired went beyond mere strength. The notion that came to mind was more subtle, more strange. It was the sensation he had glimpsed in his dream. It was "FUS!"

The word involuntarily escaped his lips, its profound meaning carried by the very sound. At that moment, his own voice seemed foreign to Hunfen. The word, spoken with far more power than he could normally muster, caused a sudden gust that unbalanced Grelod, making her stumble back. She struck her head violently against a wall and collapsed, unconscious. Hunfen, shocked, barely noticed Constance's presence as she rushed into the room, alerted by the noise. Seeing Grelod lying on the ground and the young Nord bound, she looked at the children, worried. She quickly freed Hunfen and ordered them all, her voice panicked: "Go back to the dormitory, now!"

The children, obeying Constance, hurried to the dormitory. Hunfen felt his stomach knot as questions raced through his mind, one chasing the other. Would they send him away? And then, where could he go? To Whiterun? What would Jarl Balgruuf say? Maybe his father was on his way? Would he find him in time? In the confusion reigning in the dormitory, Hroar wondered aloud: "Do you think Grelod is dead?"

Samuel answered after a few moments of reflection: "Well, it sure looked like it!"

The atmosphere in the dormitory suddenly changed. The children, realizing they might be freed from Grelod's grip, began to whisper excitedly, exchanging smiles and knowing looks. Their faces lit up as if a huge weight had been lifted from their shoulders. Some even let out joyful laughter, trying not to make too much noise.

However, Hunfen didn't share his comrades' joy. Instead, panic overwhelmed him. He had killed Grelod! Surely, the guards would come and throw him in jail! Everyone would see him as a criminal!

François, seeing the terror on his face, called the other children. "We can't leave Hunfen here!" he whispered urgently. "If Grelod is really dead, they'll accuse him and lock him up forever!" The others nodded, sharing the same concern for their new friend.

"We have to help him escape!" Samuel decided, determined. "He must be gone before the guards arrive and everyone finds out what happened!"

"Yes, good idea," agreed Runa. "Hunfen, if you can reach outside the city, you can take a carriage to another hold! You won't get into trouble if you're out of the Rift!"

"But… But I don't have any money for the carriage!" Hunfen protested. "I can't go back to Whiterun; what will I tell the Jarl? And my armor and dagger, Grelod took them from me!"

"Don't worry!" François replied, brandishing his lockpick again with a conspiratorial smile. "I'm sure I can open the chest where Grelod puts everything she confiscates now!" Without waiting for a response, he slipped silently out of the dormitory.

"Listen," Runa intervened. "You should go to Windhelm! That way, you can find Aventus and tell him he can come back! Maybe you can even return with him, and this will all have blown over by then."

Hunfen nodded hesitantly. All these plans seemed very shaky, but he had no better idea. François returned a few moments later, triumphantly carrying the coveted items.

"Here!" he said, handing him a pouch full of septims. "It was on Grelod's desk; you should be able to get to Windhelm and buy food with this! Now hurry! And don't let the guards see you!"

"But how will he get past the city gates?" Hroar objected. "They're guarded!"

"I know!" François intervened. "Through the docks! You can get to the empty house! From there, you should be able to reach the lake!"

Hunfen nodded, resigned and frightened. Before leaving, he asked: "If someone comes from Whiterun to look for me, tell them I'm in Windhelm, okay?"

The children nodded silently, and they helped him quickly don his armor and attach his dagger to his belt. They then headed to the orphanage courtyard. "You'll have to climb the wall," François whispered. "Be careful and don't get caught!"

Hunfen approached the wall, his heart pounding, and began to climb cautiously, his fingers gripping the cold stones firmly. Once at the top, he glanced quickly around to ensure no one was watching, and slid down the other side. He gave one last look at his friends, who were encouraging him silently, and let himself drop gently to the ground.

As Hunfen stood up to hurry towards the canal, a powerful rumble suddenly echoed, seeming to come from the mountains to the west: a strange voice reminiscent of the one he had had when the word "Fus" escaped him. This voice had just shouted, "Dovahkiin!"

He needed to hurry. The noise seemed to have awakened the entire city. Fortunately, it had distracted the guards who were watching the sky, alert for any sign of danger. Hunfen rushed to the stairs leading down to the canal. Once at the bottom, he cautiously made his way along the bank, the darkness enveloping the area and the proximity of the dark waters preventing him from moving as quickly as he wanted. He was careful with each step, striving to remain discreet while hurrying. After crossing nearly the entire town, he left the canal, climbing the stairs opposite the empty house. There were still a few dozen meters to cover out in the open. The young Nord cast a cautious glance around him, ensuring no guards were nearby. Heart pounding, he approached the house's door, which, as they had left it earlier in the night, was no longer locked.

Once inside, he slid the latch to prevent anyone from following him and allowed himself a brief respite. He moved cautiously through the silent, dark rooms of the abandoned house. Without the presence of his friends, the atmosphere was eerie and isolating. Feeling his way in the darkness, he finally reached the back of the building and gently pushed the door open, where the fresh air of the docks greeted him. The sight of the smooth water surface, into which the pilings supporting the quays and all the surrounding buildings extended, gave him a sense of freedom and relief. On the horizon, dawn was already breaking, tinting the sky with an orange hue.

He had no time to lose. Hunfen slipped out of the house and sneaked along the quays, guided by the first light of day. He continued quickly but discreetly, aware that the guards were still patrolling the area. Finally, he reached solid ground near the beginning of the city wall and headed for the stable. Though located outside the city, it remained dangerously close to the main gate guarded by two sentinels. Striving not to attract attention, he blended in with the early travelers, scanning the carriages lined up. Finally, he spotted the one heading to Windhelm. After paying the driver, Hunfen climbed aboard, joining a handful of other passengers sharing his destination. There was an old woman wrapped in a thick cloth, a pair of inquisitive wood elves, and a merchant asleep with his head resting on a sack of goods.

Feigning sleep, Hunfen kept a watchful eye on the guards, alert for any sign of alarm. But they remained impassive on either side of the city gate, and after what felt like an unbearably long time to the child, he felt the vehicle's jolts on the cobblestone road. He cast one last glance back at Riften, then curled up at the end of the bench and fell asleep, exhausted.