Chapter 23 - Ustengrav
The wind whistled through the pines, biting at exposed skin and lifting swirls of powdery snow that danced briefly before settling back to the ground. Hunfen tightened his coat around him, casting a wary glance at Lydia. They had stopped behind a boulder to observe the Imperial camp nestled further ahead, between gnarled tree trunks and frozen marshes. The path they were following skirted the edge of Morthal's swamp, bordered by the dense forests of the Pale. The stagnant stench of half-frozen, murky water rose in waves, mingling with the damp, earthy scent of the marshland. A branch cracked beneath his foot, louder than he would have liked, and for a fleeting moment, he had the eerie sensation that something was watching him from the shifting darkness of the swamp.
"We'll go around them, keeping a safe distance," Lydia murmured, her gaze sharp and watchful.
Hunfen nodded without protest. He understood her caution—avoiding any encounter with Imperial soldiers was wise, even if it meant extending their journey. Better not to waste time answering prying questions. Yet, as they veered deeper into the forest to bypass the camp, a pang of longing settled in his stomach. What if Hadvar was there, somewhere, sitting by a fire, holding a steaming ration in his hands? He hadn't seen him since Riverwood and had no idea what had become of him.
Their detour was made in careful silence, weaving through snow-laden pines. Lydia kept glancing toward the camp, ensuring they remained unseen. Once they returned to the main path, she observed Hunfen, noting how he continued to steal glances back over his shoulder.
"Something on your mind?" Lydia asked, catching his quiet unease. "We're far enough now. No one saw us."
"No… I was just wondering if Hadvar is in that camp," Hunfen murmured, eyes lingering on the peaks of the tents. "He's a soldier of the Legion… and he saved me, back in Helgen."
Lydia hesitated for a moment, then placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Maybe. But we can't risk finding out."
Hunfen nodded, but the bitter taste of disappointment remained. Hadvar, Ralof… the Empire and the Stormcloaks… this war, always looming over everything. He lowered his gaze and followed Lydia as they ventured deeper into the woods.
She cast another glance behind them, ensuring they hadn't been spotted. Looking back at the boy, she remarked, "With this freezing wind, we were almost better off in Morthal!"
Hunfen shot her a dubious look before replying with finality, "No."
"There was a hearth and a roof over our heads," she argued, barely concealing a smirk. "Hot soup. It wasn't much, but it was better than this!"
"Yeah, except Morthal was… awful," Hunfen retorted, wrinkling his nose. "No one talked! The houses looked like they were falling apart! Even the inn looked like it was about to collapse! It was cold, damp, and it smelled like mildew! And on top of that, we had to listen to that Orc who thinks he's a bard! And I swear I saw a ghost near that burned-down house."
Lydia let out a snort of laughter.
"You're exaggerating," she said, shaking her head.
"Not at all! Even the snow was weird there—melting and brown. Not like here!"
To emphasize his point, he kicked at the pristine powder covering the ground, sending a small flurry of snowflakes into the air. He couldn't quite explain why, but despite the biting cold and the fatigue of travel, he felt better here, out in the wild, than he ever had in any city. Skyrim was harsh, but that's how he loved it.
Lydia exhaled through her nose, amused, and resumed their march toward Ustengrav.
"Well, at least we won't have to stop there again anytime soon. We can take a carriage straight back to Whiterun."
Hunfen was relieved at the thought, but his expression darkened slightly at the mention of Whiterun. Despite the hardships of the journey, he was happy to be out on the road again, far from the stifling walls of Dragonsreach. He had never liked being cooped up for too long, and the past days in Whiterun had felt endless.
Lydia seemed to pick up on his silence and glanced at him sideways.
"Already missing Dragonsreach?"
"Not really," he replied with a dry chuckle. He paused, searching for the right words before adding, "It wasn't terrible… but I'd rather have stayed somewhere else."
Lydia raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate.
"They wouldn't let me leave the palace," he said, shrugging. "Too dangerous, apparently. It felt like being a prisoner…"
He picked up a small stone and tossed it ahead, watching it roll in the snow before sighing.
"My bed was in the servants' wing, and I guess it wasn't so bad. The staff was kind, and at least I had something to do. I helped out a little—lit the hearths, carried things to the kitchen… But I was stuck. Even at the orphanage…"
He hesitated, uncertain whether to share the next part with Lydia. Finally, he gave a sly smirk and admitted, "Well, we used to sneak out."
Lydia nodded with a knowing smile. She understood. A boy like him, used to traveling Skyrim's roads with his father, must have felt trapped in a palace.
"And in Dragonsreach, I was the only kid… apart from the Jarl's children," he grumbled.
Lydia stifled a chuckle, already guessing where this was going.
"Frothar kept trying to fight me! He calls it a 'noble Nordic duel.' He says I refuse because I'm a coward! But I was scared that… you know…"
He gestured to his throat. "I didn't want to shout at him by accident."
"Best to avoid that," Lydia agreed with a knowing look.
Hunfen shrugged, then continued, sounding more annoyed. "And then there's Dagny. She thinks she's the High Queen of Skyrim. Everyone has to obey her, or she throws a tantrum and threatens to tell her father you looked at her the wrong way." He pitched his voice high and mimicked, "Oh, but my father is the Jarl! I can have anything I want! I want a new dress, I want this necklace, and you—fetch me some water!"
Lydia bit her lip to suppress her laughter. "I take it you didn't get along."
"Oh, not at all! She hated having me in the palace. She said I smelled like manure, that I was from the streets and had no business being in the same room as her. One time, she came all the way to the kitchens, and I nearly spilled soup all over her—just to see if she could still talk while soaking wet."
This time, Lydia burst out laughing. "And what stopped you?"
"The cook was right there," he admitted with a pout.
Lydia shook her head, grinning. "Wise decision. He probably would've made you scrub pots until the end of time. And Nelkir? Is he the bossy type too?"
Hunfen hesitated for a moment, then shook his head.
"No… He doesn't care about anything. He's always wandering around the halls alone, mumbling weird things. It's like he hates everyone."
Lydia's brows furrowed slightly. "Weird things?"
"I don't know… He talks like an old man. Always muttering stuff about his father, the guards, the guests in the palace. Even Dagny and Frothar—he can't stand them either." Hunfen shot Lydia a glance before continuing, "One time, he told me that his father was a liar and that if I was smart, I'd get out of Dragonsreach before it was too late."
He frowned, thoughtful, then added, "But at least he didn't bother me. He just said strange things, like he knew secrets no one else did. Another time, when Frothar was trying to fight me again, Nelkir walked past and just said, 'You should stop playing warrior, Frothar. No matter how hard you hit, you'll either end up crushed under the boots of someone stronger… or betrayed by your closest friends.' Then he just walked away like nothing happened. But at least he left me alone. Unlike Frothar and Dagny."
Blowing into his hands for warmth, Hunfen exhaled, his breath curling in the frigid air. "Either way, I'd rather be here. Even if we've been walking for hours, even if my feet are freezing—it's better than being stuck there."
Lydia gave him a knowing look. "Yes… You're meant for adventure, not for being locked behind walls."
Hunfen nodded, but silence settled between them. He lowered his eyes to the snow crunching beneath his boots, lost in thought. He wished his father was here. This kind of journey—this was what they did together, before… before he vanished.
He took a deep breath and looked up at the snowy forest stretching ahead. He didn't want to think the worst, but… it had been so long.
Sensing his turmoil, Lydia said nothing. Instead, she placed a brief, reassuring hand on his shoulder before continuing forward. Hunfen followed, letting his thoughts drift with the wind whispering through the trees.
oOo
The burial mound of Ustengrav finally emerged before them, rising from the forest like a relic forgotten by time. A cold mist drifted lazily from the ground, weaving through the gray, moss-covered stones that framed the entrance to the sanctuary. The ruins stood in the valley's oppressive silence, both majestic and foreboding.
Hunfen lifted his gaze to the towering, time-worn pillars, a shiver of excitement running down his spine. It was one of the largest barrows he had ever seen. He had explored a few tombs during his travels with his father, but never a site this vast and imposing.
Lydia cast a wary glance around them before resting her hand on the hilt of her sword.
"We need to stay alert," she warned. "The Jarl told us—this place has its guardians."
Hunfen nodded and followed his protector inside. The air changed the moment they stepped into the tomb. A damp, ancient scent of stone and dust hung thick in the atmosphere. Broad stairways descended into a vast underground hall, its alcoves lined with stone sarcophagi.
"It's massive…" Hunfen whispered, scanning the darkness.
Lydia halted to survey the surroundings. The interior was far larger than the exterior had suggested, and it was clear that the barrow stretched deep beneath the earth.
"Someone's been here before us," she noted, gesturing toward the scattered draugr corpses on the floor. "The guardians have been disturbed."
Hunfen cautiously approached a skeleton slumped against a pillar. Its ribcage was shattered, its skull split open. Yet something about it unsettled him. He placed his hand on the cold stone and felt a strange chill creep through his fingers. He didn't like this.
Beside him, Lydia studied the corpses closely. Then, as if to confirm their worst suspicions, one of the fallen draugr trembled slightly. Its bony fingers scraped against the stone, and its hollow eye sockets flickered with an eerie, icy glow.
"They're regenerating…" Lydia murmured. "It's the magic of the barrow. It lets them slowly return to life."
Hunfen took a step back as more bodies began to stir. Bones realigned, dried flesh knit itself back together. What had been lifeless husks only moments ago now groaned and shifted, dragging themselves upright.
"They're still weak!" Lydia called, drawing her sword. "We need to finish them before they regain full strength!"
The draugr lunged at them. Hunfen dodged a clumsy swing from a half-restored skeleton, then raised his dagger to parry another attack. Lydia moved swiftly, cutting down the first stumbling draugr with a single, decisive strike.
Hunfen quickly found himself surrounded. One of the draugr raised a rusted sword, ready to bring it down on him. A memory that wasn't his own flashed through his mind. The nameless dragon—the one from Riften. It had known how to defy its dominators' attacks. Instinctively, the boy shouted:
"FEIM!"
His body instantly turned ethereal, his flesh shimmering like a mirage. The draugr's sword passed straight through him, leaving him unharmed.
Hunfen felt a strange weightlessness wash over him. He was still there, but untouchable, like a ghost lingering in the land of the living. He looked down at his hands in astonishment—they were translucent.
But there was no time to marvel at the sensation. His ethereal state wouldn't last long, and he intended to use it well. With a mischievous grin, he maneuvered effortlessly, phasing through a pillar as if it weren't there, then positioned himself behind a draugr that was attacking Lydia.
The chill of the air returned to his skin. The effect of the Thu'um had faded—he was solid again. With a swift motion, he drove his dagger into the draugr's back. The creature let out a guttural rasp before collapsing.
"Well done!" Lydia called, knocking back a final skeleton with her shield. But then, a deep, echoing sound filled the chamber. A sarcophagus at the far end of the hall burst open, sending shards of stone tumbling to the floor. A towering figure emerged.
Hunfen's breath caught in his throat. This draugr was unlike the others. Its mummified skin was etched with ancient carvings, and its eyes burned with an intense blue glow. It wore an ornate helmet and wielded a heavy Nordic battleaxe. With a guttural rasp, it let loose a string of words Hunfen didn't understand, yet the menace in its tone was unmistakable.
Then, the draugr inhaled deeply—despite having long since lost the need for breath—and bellowed a word the boy understood perfectly:
"Fus!"
The force of the shout was weaker than his own, but it was enough to make Lydia stagger. Hunfen stood frozen for a moment, stunned.
"It's using the Thu'um!" he finally exclaimed.
The draugr charged, axe raised. Hunfen gritted his teeth. If that's how it wanted to play, then fine.
"Fus Ro!"
His own forceful shout struck the draugr square in the chest, sending it crashing to the ground. But it staggered back to its feet, swaying unsteadily, before opening its mouth again.
A third word was added—but Hunfen had no time to decipher it. A blast of raw power erupted from the draugr, hurling him backward. He hit the stone floor and rolled, dazed.
"What was that word…?" he groaned, struggling to push himself up.
Lydia gave him no time to dwell on it. She lunged, her sword slashing at the draugr, but it blocked her strike with its shield. Hunfen clenched his fists. He wasn't about to back down. He still had tricks up his sleeve.
Drawing his blade once more, he uttered:
"Wuld!"
In an instant, his body surged forward at blinding speed. He crossed the chamber in the blink of an eye, using his momentum to drive his dagger deep into the draugr's chest. The creature let out a final, rasping groan before collapsing, lifeless.
A heavy silence settled over the chamber. Hunfen panted, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"You alright?" Lydia asked, stepping closer.
He nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow.
"Who was he…?" he mused aloud. "He used the Thu'um! Was he a former Tongue, a disciple of Jurgen Windcaller?"
But there was no time to linger. The barrow would eventually awaken more of its guardians. They descended into the final chamber of the sanctuary, where the remains of the first Tongue were said to rest.
But atop the pedestal overlooking the sarcophagus, there was no horn.
Instead, a single note lay waiting.
Lydia approached it cautiously, then read aloud:
"Dragonborn, I must speak with you urgently. Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I will meet you there. — A Friend."
A slow, simmering frustration welled up in Hunfen. They had gone through all of this… for nothing? And who was this "friend"? How did they know about the horn? Was he not the only Dragonborn, despite what the Greybeards had told him? Was this some trick by those Miraak followers, a ploy for their master's return?
"Well, someone got here before us," Lydia sighed.
"We have to leave for Riverwood now!" Hunfen exclaimed. "I know the place! I know people there! I can show Alvor my dagger! Maybe Hadvar or Ralof will be passing through! Even the innkeeper—I know who she is!"
But Lydia crossed her arms.
"Calm down, boy. This could be a trap. We should pass through Whiterun first and inform the Jarl."
"And what if they lock me up in Dragonsreach again?" Hunfen grumbled. "No thanks!"
Lydia sighed, understanding his reluctance.
"Alright, I'll make sure that doesn't happen. But Balgruuf needs to know. And Whiterun is on the way to Riverwood anyway. We should rest there first."
Hunfen lowered his gaze, frustrated, but didn't argue. Their path had just taken an unexpected turn.