Chapter 18 – More setbacks
The morning was cool and peaceful in Riften, but inside the empty living room of Honorhall Orphanage, the weight of silence and anxiety overwhelmed Constance Michel. She stared out the window overlooking the courtyard, through which the joyful cries of the children playing reached her, but she couldn't find joy in them. A distress had gripped her heart for weeks, one she couldn't shake despite her efforts to maintain a serene appearance in front of the little ones. The daily tasks she had grown to love now felt dull; she no longer took pleasure in the meals she prepared for her wards, nor in the trips to the market, assisted by one or another of the children. She sighed deeply, reflecting on the recent events that had cast a shadow over her days.
Aventus Aretino… The boy who had once so often sought her approval had become the target of the cruel Grelod. Constance could still recall his sad, wide eyes when he first arrived at the orphanage, his childhood dreams shattered by his mother's death. She had tried to protect him as best she could, to offer him some warmth, but Grelod had a particular talent for undermining all her efforts. Aventus's disappearance had plunged Constance into deep worry, brushed aside by the director's anger and disdain. The thought that the boy might have resorted to performing the Black Sacrament to rid himself of Grelod still sent chills down her spine. How could she have ignored his growing distress? How had she let him escape without a word, without a farewell?
She also remembered the frightened looks of the other children when they finally confessed Hunfen's escape to her. The young Nord had left Riften, taking with him the optimistic curiosity that had helped brighten this place. Guilt gnawed at her because she knew she was responsible for the safety of every child under this roof. While Grelod had been an obvious evil, her own failures had allowed insidious, deeper wounds to take root. Why hadn't she been able to calm their fears, to give them the sense of security that would have allowed them to stay? Why hadn't she made them understand that, despite everything, she would always be there for them?
The orphanage had lost two of its children, and the silence of their absence echoed cruelly within the walls that had once resonated with their voices. Constance recalled the mornings when Hunfen spoke, stars in his eyes, of his adventures with his father, of the animals he hunted. She remembered Aventus, who had become withdrawn, sitting in a corner with his head bowed, avoiding Grelod's gaze as much as possible. Perhaps it was this silence, this refusal to respond to provocation, that had fueled the old woman's hatred.
A sharp noise interrupted her thoughts. Someone was knocking at the door. Constance straightened, apprehension gripping her heart. Was it a messenger bringing more bad news? Another orphan seeking refuge? She hesitated for a moment before rising and crossing the room, her footsteps echoing on the stone floor. Her hand trembled slightly as she grasped the handle and turned it slowly.
When she opened the door, she had to blink several times in disbelief. Standing before her was Lydia, and almost hidden behind her was the figure of Hunfen. The sight of the young boy, whom she had almost believed lost forever, left her speechless. He seemed to have grown, or was it his expression that made him appear more mature? His eyes shone with a mix of fatigue and guilt.
"Hunfen…" she breathed, her throat tight with emotion. She wanted to rush toward him, to grab him, to hold him close, but she held back. He had run away, put his life in danger, and for that, she needed to scold him. Yet at that moment, all her anger had evaporated, leaving only a deep sense of relief.
Hunfen timidly raised his eyes to her, and as they met, she couldn't suppress the tears welling up in her eyes. "I… I was so scared for you, my boy," she finally whispered, her voice trembling, the words escaping her lips without a trace of reproach.
Hunfen lowered his head in shame. "I'm sorry, Constance…"
Lydia, standing beside him, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I found him in Windhelm, Constance. Unforeseen events delayed our return. I also apologize for this prolonged absence."
Constance felt torn between the need to make the child understand the gravity of what he had done and the desire to reassure him, to tell him that everything would be okay now. She knelt to his level, searching for the right words. "You should never feel like you have to run away, Hunfen," she said gently. "You should have come to me, talked to me. We could have found a solution together…"
Hunfen timidly lifted his eyes to her, his pale face marked by fatigue and anxiety. "I… I was afraid the guards would catch me and throw me in jail for Grelod's death. I didn't know what to do… And I wanted to find Aventus…"
"And… Did you find him?" Constance couldn't help but ask. "Is he… safe?"
Hunfen nodded, a smile forming on his lips. "Yes, we met! He… he's with a new family now… He's doing fine…"
Constance frowned, perplexed. Aventus, adopted? That seemed so unlikely, especially after what she had learned about his situation in Windhelm. But she couldn't ignore Hunfen's words. He had no reason to lie, after all. "Who… who adopted him, exactly?" she asked, trying to hide the worry in her voice. But Hunfen remained vague, seemingly searching for his words. "He… he told me not to worry about him. That he'd be fine…"
Lydia then spoke, her voice calm and reassuring. "Aventus is indeed safe, Constance. You can rest easy on that point. I can't unfortunately tell you more, but I assure you the boy is in good hands."
Constance looked at Lydia, hesitant. She sensed there was more behind those words, but the determined eyes of the warrior clearly indicated that this was neither the place nor the time to press the matter. She took a deep breath, trying to focus on the present.
"Very well, Lydia, I trust you," she finally said, forcing a smile. "But what will you do now?"
Lydia glanced at Hunfen before responding. "Jarl Balgruuf wishes for Hunfen to return to Whiterun. He believes it will be safer for him there. I am now his housecarl, and it's my duty to personally watch over him."
Constance pursed her lips. "So Balgruuf thinks my orphanage isn't safe for children…" she murmured bitterly.
Lydia gently shook her head. "It's not that, Constance. A lot has happened… things I can't reveal. But I assure you, it has nothing to do with the safety of the orphanage. The Jarl simply wants to keep Hunfen in Whiterun, under his protection."
Constance nodded, trying to hide her discomfort. "I understand. It's… it's for the best, I suppose. You'll look after him, then?"
Lydia nodded firmly. "I give you my word. He's under my protection. I'll make sure nothing bad happens to him."
At that moment, an inhuman roar rumbled through Riften, shaking the walls of the orphanage. The two women exchanged alarmed glances. Constance, her heart pounding, quickly stood up.
"That was a dragon," she cried, pale-faced. "Like the ones that attacked Helgen and Whiterun, wasn't it?"
Without wasting a second, she headed for the courtyard, determined to get the children to safety. Lydia took a step forward to help, but Constance raised a hand to stop her.
"Go get Hunfen to safety, Lydia. I'll take care of the others."
Lydia nodded and turned to her charge. "We need to leave now."
But the young Nord was already on the move. Ignoring Lydia's calls, he dashed toward the door, driven by an uncontrollable curiosity, an inexplicable sense of urgency. The idea of seeing a dragon with his own eyes once more fascinated and terrified him in equal measure.
"Hunfen, no!" Lydia shouted, but it was too late: the boy had already burst through the door and was sprinting toward the roar that had shaken the town. Lydia, gripped by a mix of frustration and panic, rushed after him, her boots clattering on the cobblestones as the dragon's roar grew louder.
oOo
Hunfen raced through the winding streets of Riften, his feet pounding the uneven cobblestones as he instinctively headed toward the source of the roar that had rattled the town. Heart pounding, he wove through the abandoned goods on the ground and the townsfolk fleeing in terror, screaming. The entire city seemed caught in a macabre dance, the shadows of the rooftops distorted by the pale sunlight hidden behind a chilling mist that was anything but natural for late summer.
When he finally reached the central square, the young Nord abruptly halted, gasping for breath. Before him, a terrifying sight unfolded. A dragon, its bluish scales glinting with an icy sheen, hovered majestically above the overturned market stalls. Its wings beat the air with formidable power, sending freezing gusts down on the guards below. The men desperately tried to hit the creature with their bows, but their arrows bounced harmlessly off the beast's scales, which remained out of reach of their swords.
However, what struck Hunfen first was the size of the dragon: this beast was notably smaller than those he had seen at Helgen and Whiterun. Yet it exuded a palpable aura of danger, its gaping maw releasing white clouds of steam, while its midnight-blue eyes, sharp as daggers, scanned the square with evident disdain.
"Mey Alduin! Mey Mirmulniir! Zu'u los zok mul!" The words it spoke resonated like echoes from another world, their meaning lost on Hunfen. However, the creature's tone and demeanor stirred an unsettling feeling of contempt within him, an impression that this dragon, despite its imposing airs, was merely a pretender. Had it mentioned 'Alduin,' the name of the great black dragon from Helgen? Did it dare compare itself to him, when it was clearly far weaker, even lesser than the dragon that had been felled in Whiterun? Crouched behind a pile of debris, Hunfen watched the scene with feverish attention. Memories of his previous encounters with dragons swirled in his mind, fueling a strange mix of fascination and terror. Yet his instinct urged him to emerge from his hiding place, to confront this monster that dared threaten his city.
The dragon finally landed in the center of the square with a deafening crash, its claws gouging the paved ground. It folded its wings with calculated slowness, as if savoring every moment of the terror it inspired. "Joor fen aus fah dii suleyk!" it proclaimed, glaring at the guards who had formed a desperate circle around it. The captain of the guards, a battle-hardened Nord, tried to rally his men, but his voice was drowned out by the beast's roar.
Hunfen felt anger rising within him, burning more intensely than his fear. How could this dragon, so weak, drape itself in such overwhelming arrogance, daring to challenge the men of Skyrim with such conceit? A flame ignited in his gaze, fueled by indignation and audacity. He clenched his fists, feeling magical energy surge through his veins. Flames danced in his hands, ready to be unleashed. He would show this creature its place in the world! With resolute determination, he stood up, emerging from the shadows like an arrow shot toward its target, and extended his arms, releasing a fire spell with all the will he could muster. A searing jet of flame shot from his palms, aimed straight at the dragon.
The flames struck the creature's flank but merely slid off its scales, causing little more than mild irritation. The dragon ceased its speech, turning its gaze toward the source of the attack. Its icy blue eyes met Hunfen's, and the boy felt as if a deathly silence had fallen over the square. Time seemed to freeze as the creature stared at him, a flicker of incredulity and amused disdain crossing its gaze. The young Nord inhaled, preparing to Shout, but the creature beat him to it:
"Fo Krah Diin!"
A storm of ice burst from the dragon's mouth with blinding speed, hitting Hunfen head-on and cutting off his words, flinging him backward with brutal force. His fire spell extinguished instantly, and he felt his limbs stiffen under the onslaught of the cold as shards of ice slashed his hands and face. An overwhelming pain gripped him, knocking the breath from his lungs, and before he could comprehend what was happening, he collapsed on the cobblestones, his strength completely drained.
Lying on the ground, half-conscious, he vaguely heard voices calling his name, but they seemed to come from far away, as if through a thick fog. The world around him blurred, the sunlight transforming into a diffuse halo as his eyelids closed involuntarily. In this state of semi-consciousness, a figure approached him, but he couldn't make out its features. A final thought crossed his clouded mind before he slipped into unconsciousness: he had failed.
oOo
Hunfen floated in a cold, oppressive void. There was no more pain, no physical sensation, only a strange awareness of his own mind drifting in an infinite nothingness. Indistinct images passed before him, as fleeting as reflections in a rushing stream: Lydia's stern face, the laughter of the children at the orphanage, the blue dragon spewing its disdain over Riften. Then, a light appeared, shapeless at first, but growing brighter. The child recognized this strange vision: it was the same dream he had had in Whiterun, which now seemed like an eternity ago.
A storm of images and sensations flooded his mind—memories that were not his own. He was in a dark, icy cavern, the walls covered in glittering frost. Before him, another dragon, immense and imposing, raised its neck toward the heights, its eyes burning with restrained fury. Hunfen recognized the dragon that had attacked Whiterun, that had spread destruction before being brought down. From these recollections, a name echoed repeatedly. Mirmulnir. This dragon's name was Mirmulnir.
Suddenly, another figure loomed in the child's mind, a shadow far greater and more terrifying, shrouded in darkness. Alduin, firstborn of Akatosh, whose very name made the strongest wills tremble. The World-Eater. Hunfen felt a wave of terror wash over him, but also a deep resentment rising from the torrent of thoughts assaulting him. A visceral hatred directed at these two great dragons, Mirmulnir and Alduin. The ice dragon, the one that had attacked him in Riften, so weak, so insignificant that his peers had never deemed him worthy of a name, was merely frustration given form, a being simmering with frustration at the oppression and dominance of these two. This creature despised its kin, convinced it was destined for greatness, yet condemned to be nothing more than a servant, a nameless shadow.
Amidst this torrent of submissive hatred, Hunfen glimpsed a saving word. A sound resonated in the child's mind, a term he instinctively understood. 'Feim.' This idea was entirely new to him, so strange that no word in his native tongue seemed capable of describing it. This term reflected the concept of vanishing from the tangible world while still remaining present within it. A staggering, disconcerting notion. But the dragon had turned this word into a shield, a way to become untouchable, to escape the mortal blows and scorn of its masters. It had accepted the total powerlessness that this state imposed, in exchange for an equally total invulnerability.
Suddenly, the images faded, and the pain returned.