Chapter 11 - Pilgrimage
The sparse forest that Hunfen and Lydia traversed resonated with light sounds: the singing of birds, the rustling of leaves, and the distant melody of a stream. They had been walking for some time, having earlier abandoned the cart they had taken to quickly get away from Windhelm. The climb was becoming steeper, making their steps heavier as the path grew narrow and rocky, further slowing their progress. Hunfen kept his eyes fixed on the ground, both to watch where he was stepping and to avoid meeting Lydia's gaze. Long walks were not new to him, but the serious and urgent atmosphere made the exercise feel far gloomier than usual. As they progressed, Hunfen noticed that Lydia frequently glanced back discreetly, as if she expected pursuers to emerge at any moment. The young Nord could feel the tension emanating from his protector, despite her confident stride. Besieged by numerous questions without any conceivable answers, the future seemed like an oppressive, endless maze. Lydia had promised him explanations, but he didn't dare to ask for them.
After a long stretch of silent walking, Hunfen couldn't hold back any longer.
"Why did you say you're my housecarl?" he blurted out, looking up at the warrior. "Don't I need to be a thane for that? And why are we going to High Hrothgar? Do you think the Dark Brotherhood is after us? Why did we leave the cart? And why..."
He stopped when Lydia turned her gaze to him. The warrior suppressed a laugh at the sudden avalanche of questions and answered while continuing to walk: "You're too young to be a thane. But even if you're just a child, Jarl Balgruuf wants to protect you. He gave me this mission, which makes me your housecarl."
The situation remained nebulous for Hunfen. He thought of Lucia: before being taken in by the Temple of Kynareth, his friend had spent long months on her own. Yet the Jarl hadn't dispatched a protector for her.
Lydia sighed, seemingly searching for her words. "You must have heard the Greybeards' call, right?" she finally asked. "A great shout that echoed across all of Skyrim."
"Was that it?!" exclaimed the boy, his eyes suddenly lighting up. "People were talking about it in Windhelm! Yes, I heard it in Riften! It sounded like it came from the big mountain, everyone was looking that way and..."
He stopped again, unwilling to reveal how the distraction had allowed him to sneak out of the city. He watched for a reaction on Lydia's face, but she remained impassive and continued: "That shout meant they had discovered the existence of a Dragonborn. They were asking them to come to High Hrothgar."
"Yes, they talked about that in Windhelm too!" the young Nord interrupted, his excitement returning. "Dad told me that story once, Dragonborn are people who can kill a dragon and take its powers, right?"
Lydia nodded. Hunfen continued more quietly, in a conspiratorial tone: "I think it's Irileth! She's the one who killed the dragon that attacked Whiterun! With a big sword strike, like this!" he said, mimicking the Dunmer's sweeping blow that had felled the beast. "So, did she go to see them?"
"It's not exactly that," Lydia replied, amused by the boy's sudden and overflowing enthusiasm. "Yes, Irileth dealt the final blow to the dragon, but that doesn't make her Dragonborn."
"But how do you know?"
"She would have felt it if she had absorbed its soul or power. And according to legend, she would now be able to shout like them. But all she and the guards saw was the dragon burning up on its own, as if its essence was being absorbed, but without anyone knowing by whom."
Hunfen remained thoughtful for a moment. "It's true, Irileth said that to the Jarl, but I don't remember. I must have fainted, I think the dragon fell on me when it died. It almost crushed me!"
"Yes, we found you unconscious next to the dragon's skeleton. And then you let out that shout at the orphanage..." Lydia continued hesitantly, recalling Constance Michelle's account.
Hunfen's face darkened immediately, and he averted his eyes, gazing into the distance. "I... I don't like thinking about it," he finally murmured after a moment. "It all happened so fast, I was scared... and then there was this... this blast, like an explosion. Everything started flying around me and then..." He paused, his eyes moist, searching for words. "I don't want to think about it," he finally whispered.
Lydia stopped, observing the young boy beside her who had also halted his walk, and sighed silently. Her experience was in arms and battle, not in mending wounded hearts and troubled souls. "I'm sorry, Hunfen," she finally said. "I didn't mean to hurt you by bringing it up. But it's important for you to understand. First, the dragon burns up, then you let out this supernatural shout, and right after that, the Greybeards call out..."
She broke off; Hunfen had frozen, his eyes wide.
"I... I'm a Dragonborn?" he murmured, his voice tinged with incredulity and fear. "But... but I'm just a boy! Dragonborns are heroes, legends, like Talos! I can't..."
Lydia approached him gently, placing a hand she hoped was comforting on his shoulder. "That's why we're going to see the Greybeards, Hunfen," she explained. "They will be the only ones who can confirm if you truly are a Dragonborn. And if you are, they will help you understand and master your powers."
She paused, scrutinizing the troubled face of the young boy. "Jarl Balgruuf wants to protect you from both the Empire and the Stormcloaks. They might try to use you for their own interests. Your safety is his priority, and it's also mine," she explained with a more protective tone. "That's why we're avoiding crowded places and left the cart. The more discreet we are, the better."
The young woman looked down, seeming to reflect for a moment before continuing. "As for the Dark Brotherhood... I don't think they're after us. If they were, they would have already tried to attack us. But we must remain vigilant."
Hunfen looked away again, letting his gaze wander to the horizon as his thoughts drifted elsewhere. A silence stretched between them before he murmured, almost inaudibly and more to himself than to Lydia, "I wonder what Dad is doing right now..."
Lydia, slightly taken aback, hesitated in finding the right words. "I'm sure your father is doing everything he can to find you, Hunfen," she said, her awkward gentleness coloring each syllable. "He's probably thinking of you right now, without a doubt!" Though her voice held uncertainty, it vibrated with touching sincerity.
After a brief pause, Lydia stood and extended her hand to Hunfen. "It's time to continue our journey. Stay strong, I'm with you." The boy, still lost in his thoughts but moved by Lydia's solicitude, took her hand and stood, fortified by their shared solidarity to face the road ahead.
oOo
By nightfall, after an exhausting day of walking, Hunfen and Lydia arrived in sight of Ivarstead. The village, bathed in the growing shadow of twilight, seemed asleep. The main street, flanked by buildings extending under a sky tinged with purple and orange, was already deserted. Lydia, cautiously scanning the surroundings, spotted a ruined house, barely visible behind a curtain of trees and freely growing vegetation.
"That looks abandoned," she said, pointing to the shack. "We can shelter there tonight. I'd rather avoid being noticed."
Hunfen sighed silently in disappointment. Further away, an inn's sign promised a warm night in a good bed, but his guardian probably had a good reason to avoid it. She must have noticed his lack of enthusiasm because she added, "No one comes to Ivarstead unless they're going to climb the Seven Thousand Steps. And with the Greybeards' call, no doubt every passing pilgrim is being watched. And there are never children among the usual pilgrims."
The young Nord shrugged and headed in the indicated direction. As he approached, he felt a twinge of apprehension. The dilapidated house, overgrown with thorns, looked sinister in the growing darkness. The peeling walls and broken windows spoke of many years of abandonment. Lydia, with a confident gesture, opened the door that creaked on its rusty hinges. To their great surprise, they were not alone. A man stood there in a corner of the room, his eyes wide with astonishment, illuminated by the faint glow of a candle placed on a timeworn table.
"Who are you? Why are you coming into Narfi's house?" asked the man in a soft but troubled voice. His tousled hair and lost gaze gave him a wild yet melancholic look. He wore worn clothes, patched in several places, testifying to a life of deprivation.
Lydia, who had reflexively reached for her sword, relaxed. "We thought this house was abandoned," she apologized. "We're just looking for a place to spend the night, out of sight." Her eyes briefly rested on her charge, ensuring his safety.
Hunfen observed the man with a mix of curiosity and concern. Narfi, as he had called himself, stared at them with a gaze both lost and anxious. The young boy couldn't help but feel a certain compassion for this strange occupant, whose loneliness seemed as deep as the ruins that surrounded him. After a moment of hesitation, Narfi gestured, inviting the unexpected visitors to enter. "Narfi doesn't get visitors often. Narfi is alone, yes, alone for a long time," he said in a voice oscillating between melancholy and a childlike semblance of joy at the prospect of company.
Lydia, while remaining on guard, entered the house, followed closely by Hunfen. The interior was spartan and disordered: a few battered pieces of furniture, scattered objects, and herbs hanging to dry on what was no longer a hearth in name only. The air was filled with the smell of earth and mold, mixed with the sweeter scent of plants.
"Narfi lives here. Alone since... since Reyda is no longer here," continued Narfi, sitting on a rickety stool. "Reyda was here, then no more. She went to gather plants and didn't come back... no, no. Everyone searched, but no one found her. Wilhelm said she would return... told Narfi not to worry... Reyda will come back."
Hunfen listened, troubled by Narfi's voice, filled with a childlike sadness. He had never heard someone speak of themselves in the third person. It seemed strange to him, but touching in a way. The boy glanced around, trying to imagine this man's life in this dilapidated home. Lydia seemed torn between mistrust and compassion. "We're sorry about your sister, Narfi. We won't disturb you long, just the night," she said, her voice unusually gentle to Hunfen's ears.
Narfi nodded, his eyes fixed on a distant point as if recalling distant memories. "With father, I said goodbye... with mother, I said goodbye. Reyda left, and Narfi couldn't say goodbye. That makes Narfi very, very sad. Narfi needs to say goodbye."
Hunfen felt his heart clench. The thought that his father, Olfand, or his friend Aventus could suffer the same fate as Reyda, lost without farewell or return, stirred a deep anxiety in his heart. He imagined himself alone, never seeing those he loved again, a scenario that terrified him. Narfi's solitude, in this dilapidated house, suddenly felt too close, too real. He shivered, both from the cold and from this frightening possibility. Narfi stood, indicating a corner of the room where a pile of old fabrics and furs formed a semblance of a bed. "Narfi sleeps there. You can sleep there," he said, pointing to another corner of the room. "Narfi will get wood for the fire. It's cold at night."
Lydia nodded in thanks and helped Hunfen settle in for the night. The boy, exhausted, wrapped himself in the furs, his mind still occupied by Narfi's words.
While Narfi busied himself outside, Lydia sat next to Hunfen, keeping watch over him. She seemed to be thinking about their journey the next day. "Tomorrow, we start the climb of the 7000 Steps. It's a long and perilous path, but we must reach High Hrothgar. Are you ready for this, Hunfen?"
The boy nodded, although a part of him felt a mix of apprehension and excitement. The idea of meeting the Greybeards and discovering the truth about himself filled him with a mixture of anticipation and fear.
Soon after, Narfi returned, arms laden with wood. He lit a small fire that warmed the room and cast dancing shadows on the decrepit walls. Hunfen, wrapped further in the furs and watched the flames, his thoughts wandering between his past, his uncertain present, and the mysterious future that awaited him. Lydia, after keeping watch for a while, fell asleep as well, still in a posture that betrayed her vigilance even in slumber. The night passed slowly, punctuated by the crackling of the wood and the steady breaths of his companions.
At dawn, the crowing of a rooster woke them. Narfi was already up, murmuring to himself as he prepared a sort of porridge over the fire. Lydia rose, stretched her muscles sore from the night on the hard floor, and woke Hunfen.
"It's time to go," she said softly. Hunfen got up, still groggy from sleep, and thanked Narfi for his hospitality. The man's gaze seemed a bit less lost this morning, as if the presence of visitors had rekindled in him a distant memory of normalcy.
Their host for the night watched them leave with a melancholic smile. "Visitors can come back to see Narfi if they pass this way," he called as they walked away. "Narfi will be here. Narfi doesn't move!"
Hunfen, walking alongside Lydia, cast one last look back at the little ruined house and its solitary occupant. Then, with a sigh, he turned toward the immense mountain rising before them, ready to face the challenges of the day and discover the truth about himself.