———————————————
SPOILER INFO
This fanfic novel is largely based on the events that occurred in an actual game of Skyrim I played. Therefore, it's inevitably a spoiler.
———————————————
4-201-08-17 08:00
somewhere in Tamriel
Good morning, I guess. I hope yours is better than mine. Having opened my eyes, I find myself sitting in a horse cart which is moving along a country road. My hands are bound (but my feet aren't) and there are three men sitting in the same cart. I notice with relief that their hands are bound as well.
While my fellow "passengers" are exchanging information as to who is from where, I'm wondering if I could get my wrists out of these ropes. Probably not, and I kind of guess that even if I succeeded in freeing my hands, the soldiers who are following our cart on horseback would notice it and tie me up again.
The men in the cart ask me some questions and I give them laconic answers, because I don't know anything about who they are and what they might be up to. I pretend to be not fully awake yet and they leave me alone, engaging in some political discussion which I find difficult to follow. I'm afraid to ask them if they know where we are being taken to and by whom and for what purpose. I'd better keep quiet and use the forced wait to introduce myself to you. I'm a Breton woman. My name is Laura. I'm unsure about my age, but I feel like early 20's most of the time. So let's make it 22 if it suits you. I have blue eyes and long black hair. I like to think I'm beautiful. For the time being, you'll have to take my word for it, as it'll be a while before I can show you pictures of myself. You'll understand my situation. Getting out of this predicament is my top priority at the moment.
I hope I'm not entirely hopeless as a fighter, but with tied wrists, not even the best fighter in the world would have a chance alone against those armed guards. I must rely on my co-prisoners having a plan of some kind. I mean, I wouldn't mind a divine intervention or sudden awakening from a nightmare, but let's remain realistic.
That said, I do have an ethereal being of sorts who guides me and watches over me. My higher self. I am not allowed to say his real name (yes, my higher self is male), so he'll be Bardslayer to you. I'm not sure where the nickname comes from. Maybe he doesn't like people who sing a lot. But what I was getting at is that while I have vague memories of many places, people and events, I don't really know what this particular location is called and how I got here. There are things I know (such as the human language, evidently) and there are things I know I have experienced sometime, somewhere, but I can't remember anything specific. Everything that's happened to me before my waking up a few minutes ago is a complete blank. The man Ralof in this cart says I was trying to cross the border. Guess I was then. Lokir, another man in the cart, mentioned a while ago that the region where we are is called Skyrim. Sure, why not. Had he said it's called Viridilignia, I would've had no reason to doubt him.
Just so you don't get the wrong idea of me, my higher self is nothing like a voice in my head. Even though I occasionally say that Bardslayer "told" me this or that, it's just a figure of speech. I have never spoken to him. I don't even know if he has a voice. But during my sleep he often sends me dreams about things, including some I can impossibly have ever experienced for real. Such as being a Khajiit man. That was rather weird. Also, Bardslayer occasionally lets me know what is the right thing to do. Warns me of dangers. I don't know how. I would just suddenly get a hunch that something terrible would happen if I were to proceed with what I'm about to do.
Guess things are coming back to me slowly. I'm not sure exactly what Bardslayer is, though. He can achieve things that are physically or magically impossible, but he can't be a god, nor a manifestation of a god. He's not as powerful as gods are. But it's good enough for me. Speaking of gods, Lokir just mentioned two goddesses, Mara and Dibella. Those names sound distinctly familiar. I have memories of praying to them occasionally, but I rather think it's just, you know, trying to stay on the good side of everyone mighty. Generally, I trust Bardslayer to guard me.
I got carried away, sorry. Let us return to the present moment and sum up the situation. I am lost in an unknown world which I somehow know to be called Tamriel. Unknown as it may be, it still looks quite... you know... right. Believable. World-like. Spruce trees, snow here and there, chilly weather but not too uncomfortably cold... If we were to reason logically (my higher self likes logic, which is of course natural for a male), I must have been born and raised in a place quite similar to this one, or maybe a little warmer. Mind you, that's just a speculation. I don't actually remember. Not a thing.
There's another cart ahead of us, with four more prisoners in it. They look quite soldierlike. So do two of the men in my cart – Ralof and Ulfric. Ralof has the appearance of an ordinary soldier, but Ulfric seems to be a big noise. He's so important that they have bound his mouth as well. I wonder what it is that's so secret that we the other prisoners aren't allowed to hear it. The third guy Lokir, as I have learned by now, is a horse-thief. He looks very haggard. Probably needed to steal that horse to save himself from starvation. What I don't quite understand is what am I doing in this lot. I observe the men's faces as well as I can without being conspicuous. None of them rings a bell. I don't dare talk to them, because I might make myself suspicious by not knowing something I'm supposed to know. Fortunately, none of the men pays any special attention to me. They look downcast, which is understandable. They have mentioned that we are prisoners of the "Imperials". I take it to mean that Ulfric and Ralof have been rebelling against an empire this place is a part of. And poor Lokir just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. As, I suppose, did poor Laura.
The cart is arriving in a village. There are people in front of their houses looking at us. One-storey wooden houses. A medium-sized peasant community like any other. Except that not every farming village has a high defense wall and massive gates.
The sun is coming out now. Time seems to drag on like syrup. Eventually we arrive at a, um, scaffold? The thing where criminals have their heads chopped off. Is this real? Guys, are we going to do something or will we just let ourselves be slaughtered like cattle? The way Ralof's been talking, he seems to intend to do just that.
We're ordered off the cart. There's a man with a sheet of paper in his hand. Hadvar is his name. Not the prettiest man around here, but I kind of feel his heart is in the right place. Maybe I could persuade him to let me go if it wasn't for that small woman in a shining iron-y armor who acts like she's the boss here. I guess that's because she is. No, that's an even shorter man they call General Tullius. But the woman is determined to make it clear to everyone who the second-in-command is. She's armored like a small fortress and talks to (or rather barks at) everyone with such hostility as if someone had just stolen her favorite earrings. "Captain" they call her. I'll call her "metal bitch".
"Who are you?" I hear the man's question. Can't you ask something simpler? Laura is the name and that's really all I can tell them. I try to explain I don't even know any of the other prisoners, but I can see they're not convinced. Still, the Important Ones are a little puzzled and look at each other. They're like: shall we execute her with the others? Yeah, let's, why not?
I think it's a rotten idea, but nobody is interested in my opinion. Too bad for me.
So, in case it's not yet entirely clear to some of you, dear readers – we are supposed to walk to that chopping block one by one, and the executioner is going to... That's too horrible to even speak out loud. But it's happening right now. No, Lokir has a different idea. His hands still bound, he makes a dash for it. After maybe 40–50 meters, he falls down with arrows in his back. Maybe that's a better way to die?
The first man walks to the block. It's weird, but he seems impatient to get it over with and to go to some place called Sovngarde. That large axe cuts through his neck like butter. What was a walking, talking human being a few seconds ago is now a lump of lifeless flesh and blood. Why?
Now the metal bitch is telling me to walk to the block. I drag my feet. Is there a chance that the axe will fall off the handle? Whatever, just help me, somebody! I know it sounds like a cliche, but I really don't want to die. It's too soon. I feel like I haven't even properly lived.
Why does it have to happen? It's not right. I haven't done anything, have I? More precisely, I don't remember. [Chuckle.] I may have done lots of things, but is it right to execute someone who can't remember her crimes? There's no one to ask.
I get on my knees. The chopping block has blood all over it. Do I really have to touch it with my body? All right, all right, no need to push so roughly!
Is that all, Bardslayer? Is this where we part forever? Or shall I have a reincarnation? Will I remember more in my next life? Will I remember this?
He's not answering.
They didn't even have the decency to take away that horrible head. I look to the left to not have to see it. The executioner's armor looks really cool, actually. Then I see how something comes flying and lands on top of a citadel. Or should I say "a small tower"? A mini-tower? Well, you get the idea. That flying thing is a huge animal. Wait, I know it! The word's "dragon". They're called dragons. The metal bitch barks: "Sentries! What do you see?" A minute ago she acted like she owned the world. Now she suddenly doesn't know which way is up without someone telling her.
I hear a deafening noise, the ground shakes and everything in front of my eyes turns yellow for a moment. The big man with the axe turns away from me. He has righfully decided that he has more important concerns right now than chopping my head off. Bardslayer, did you do this?
"Hey, Breton, get up!" I believe to recognize Ralof's voice. "Come on, the gods won't give us another chance." Yeah, good idea. I get on my feet. Things aren't exactly easy with your hands tied, but I'll have to make the best of what I have. Said the camel with one hump. Camel? What camel?? Dammit, Laura, get serious! You absolutely have to get away from that bloody piece of stone. And into some cover, I suppose, as the dragon is spitting fire.
I run, climb, jump, run, dodge, turn, run... Lucky at least my hands are tied in the front and not behind my back. I'm seeing Hadvar now. He no longer has the list with names. He tells me to follow him. Doesn't seem to have my death on his mind anymore. He's rather worried about his own life. He runs fast and I struggle to keep up with him and not to fall and smash my dear little nose. Things flash by. Then there's Ralof again. He and Hadvar quickly exchange a few insults before going their separate ways, both offering me their company. A whole two guys ready to help me escape. Now we're talking!
I'm going with Hadvar. I mean, earlier in that horse-cart, Ralof was too accepting of getting executed soon. Not the kind of man a woman ought to hang around with. On second thought, Hadvar might deliver me to the authorities once we're out of here. Well, too late for that thought now. I've already followed him into that stone building. We are alone in a large room with some pieces of furniture.
Hadvar unties my hands. Gosh, that feels good. See, I was right about him! He likes me. I have to confess it's mutual. But let's hold that thought for the time being. I'll like him even more when we are as far away as possible from that oversized tinderbox beast.
Hadvar tells me to look around and grab some weapons and armor. Awesome. Ideas keep getting better. We find a simple sword and a light armor. Nice. I hate those heavy clunky things. That metal bitch – if someone had toppled her, would she have been able to stand up by herself, I wonder. Yes, yes, Hadvar, I know we have to move on. I'm almost done... in a moment.
A little tight up there, but I can live with that. Hope I can stay alive as well.
I feel clumsy with a sword, but I can't find a bow. I search everywhere. Too thoroughly, some may say. To tell you the truth, I need time to get over my recent shock. There are some beds. Is it all right if I sleep a little? Joking, Hadvar, joking! I could impossibly sleep here. Please wait, I'm good to go! I do want to come with you!
I run after him along dim stone corridors. I'm scared. I just remembered a dream I had one night not so long ago. I was in a swordfight together with a man against three or four enemies, and I got struck down, conscious but unable to move, watching my companion and the enemies exchanging blows furiously. I felt embittered by my inability to help him, afraid that someone might just walk up to me and kill me or something... But then the battle was suddenly over, and the man and I were running along an empty corridor, and a fierce animal appeared out of nowhere and tore me in pieces.
I'm sorry. It's this dungeon that is putting me into morose mood. I like a bright sunny day, and I like romantic darkness, but I hate crappy light indoors. Although it beats running between burning houses...
Hadvar stops. We can hear people talking. There's a round room, properly lighted for a change. A man and a woman. They're a little like us. But they don't like us. I mean, why else would the man raise that huge ugly sharp thing and run at me, yelling? Hey, do we have to do this? Yeah, seems we do. Too bad. You could have been happy together. Well, maybe not very happy, but it's so stupid to fight people when a dragon could bring this whole structure down on our heads any moment. I don't even know anything about that war of yours.
We kill. We run. Kill some more. Run some more. As far as I can tell, we have left the castle (or whatever it was) and are now moving along a system of caves looking for a way to the surface. I'm tired. Lucky at least I find some food and water. In the first room, there was only wine. This is assuredly neither the place nor the time for a lady to get drunk. There's a little problem with the water, though. It's in a creek, and the creek is guarded by half a dozen angry people with swords and things. Well, maybe they don't guard the creek as such. Maybe they're just in the habit of killing people they don't know well. Anyway, I forgot to mention that there are now three of us. One guy joined us a little while ago. It was in a torture chamber, but I have no time to tell you about it. They didn't torture anyone back there, but now some bastard is shooting arrows into my lovely body. Hadvar and the other guy whose name I don't even know are making a hell of a crash fighting someone across a small bridge, but two of the enemies are farther away shooting at us, mostly me. I don't have a bow, so I just do what I can – run to the archers as fast as I can, hit them with my sword as fast as I can (I'm getting the hang of it, you know!), then run away to heal myself, then run back when at full health to hit them some more. It's a long and crazy fight. A couple of the enemy swordfighters want to surrender, but my boys know no mercy, and I'm not going to stop them. We kill them all. There's a smell of blood everywhere. Too much blood for one day. But I have a premonition that I'm going to have to get used to it.
Hadvar urges me to hurry. The torturer's assistant is no longer there. Must have gotten killed. Maybe it's better that way. Traveling with two men I just met is scary enough without one of them being a torturer's assistant.
Hadvar and I run along a creek, then enter a passage. And run straight into utterly horrible spiders. Don't laugh! I'm not afraid of spiders like most women, but if they are as large as dogs and drop down onto my head, it's decidedly yucky.
Having killed the spiders, we move on. Then Hadvar shows me a sleeping bear and suggests we can get past it by sneaking. Anything you say. After a few more scary passages, we're out in the open. There's still daylight.
Now Hadvar is talking to me. He thanks me for helping him escape. We'd better split up and meet in Riverwood where his relatives live, he says. Just to the end of this road and then to the right along the river bank.
No, my dear fellow, we're not splitting up. I'm going to walk right behind you all the way to that Riverwood place or anywhere else you may be going that has houses and human beings and – if I'm allowed to make a humble request – no chopping blocks and no bloodthirsty captains.
You agree? I'm so glad you do. Before we hit the road, though, there's just one more thing I would like, Hadvar. You know... After everything we went through together today... Do I really have to spell it out for you? No, I can see I don't.
So, dear reader, if you would be kind enough to give us some privacy for maybe 20 or 30 minutes, please? Go grab yourself some food or something.
Thank you.
* * *
It's getting dark, but I can't help asking Hadvar questions about who were those imprisoned warriors (or Stormcloaks as they're properly called) and what is going on here. Strangely enough, I'm no longer afraid to show my ignorance. Finally we begin going in direction (I presume) of Riverwood. I'm exhausted, but I don't want to let Hadvar notice it. So I keep up with him bravely.
The dragon is nowhere to be seen. Must have flown home, wherever that may be. I hope he roasted the metal bitch. Forgive me if I'm boring you talking about her, but I just can't stand people who order to have my head chopped off.
I wonder if Ralof got away. Hope he doesn't think of me as his enemy just because I went with Hadvar.
Lokir... rest in peace. Stealing horses is a bad thing to do, but, you know, one feels kind of close to someone one's been sentenced to death together. Come to think of it, had he waited instead of running away, he might be alive now.
Yes, I know this armor has room for improvement. But it's stronger than the one I previously had.
And the weather has gotten a lot warmer than it was during our trip to Helgen.
And the weather has gotten a lot warmer than it was during our trip to Helgen.
My thoughts wander back to the dragon returning to his nest. What might baby dragons be like? A dragon nest must be of fireproof material, or the chicks would burn it to ashes. Or will they get fire glands only when they're older?
Don't mind me, I'm just thinking silly thoughts to stay awake.
Hadvar stops now. He shows me some stone obelisks on the roadside that can improve your ability to learn certain skills... if I'm understanding him correctly. I have to choose one. Choose one stone out of the three? Is it really necessary? All right, I'll take this one, for the so-called Thief skills. I don't like the sound of it, but I know from Bardslayer that this category is more useful than the other two. Among the Thief skills are Speech and Sneaking. And Archery. I like archery. Swordfighting is kind of unladylike. A decent girl is not supposed to hit people. Except that sometimes you have to. Shooting arrows at them from a distance makes me feel less bad about hurting them. It also makes it harder for them to hit me. Getting hit is what I really really hate.
Stop---blabbing---Laura--- Don't you see that Hadvar is waiting, impatient to move on?
All right, Hadvar. Lead on. I'm sleepy no longer, as I'm afraid we'll be attacked by some wild animals any moment. I don't know why, I just have this strange fear. But then we are already seeing the village. Um... Hadvar, can we stop here at the riverbank for a moment, out of the villagers' sight? I feel really dirty. I mean, not because of what we did outside Helgen. I mean dirty as in haven't washed... yes, yes, I'll hurry it up. No, you don't have to turn away, silly. I don't have anything more to hide from you, have I? In fact, you'd better keep an eye on me while I have no armor on. I'd feel really stupid if I'd get eaten by wolves now that we're so close to safety.
And then we're in Riverwood at last. Nice village, nice people. I mean, every village not on fire seems nice to me right now. I exchange a few hellos. This is the kind of place where you greet people on the street even when you don't know them. A man named Alvor welcomes Hadvar cordially and asks us to come in. He wants to know everything about the dragon. Look, can we talk about it in the morning? I can't keep my eyes open any longer. And while we're on this topic, that bed looks really cozy. May I crash here just this once?
I don't hear their reply. I fall onto the bed with a crash. One hell of a day this was!
next awakening
return to the table of contents
