A Stranger in Skyrim 6

Chapter Six: The People of Riverwood

In which people chatter incessantly.

They made it to Riverwood shortly after that, walking at a somewhat more leisurely pace now that the town itself was in sight. It looked … peaceful. There was a a high wall, yes, but no one manned the walkway. Thatched buildings lined the road, and growing plants were everywhere. She saw signs hanging from some of the buildings – those would be shops, probably.

“Things look quiet enough here. Come on, there's my uncle.” Hadvar broke into a tired-looking run, heading for the shop on the left, it looked like. She followed at a more sedate pace. She was worn out already. No point in making it worse.

A woman was shouting as she walked into town. “A dragon! I saw a dragon!”

“What is it now, mother?” A man in a yellowish shirt responded, sounding exasperated.

The woman pitched her voice deliberately so that everyone in town could hear her. “It was as big as the mountain and black as night! It flew right over the barrow!”

“Dragons now, is it?” He sighed. “Please, mother. If you keep going on like this, everyone in town will think you're crazy. And I've got better things to do than listen to more of your fantasies.” He walked away from his own mother, ignoring her. Mariah decided she didn't much care for yellow-shirt. Especially since his mother had the right of it, after all.

The old woman called after her son, hands on her hips. “You'll see! It was a dragon! It'll kill us all and then you'll believe me!”

Mariah walked up behind the woman, tapping her on the shoulder.

“What?”

She smiled. “I believe you, ma'am. I saw the dragon with my own eyes.”

“Are you – are you making fun of me?”

She shook her head, feeling the smile fade somewhat. “Why would I – ?”

“Because I won't stand for it!” She folded her arms, sounding defensive.

Mariah held her hands up, placatingly. “I'm not making fun of you, I swear.”

“You're not?”

She shook her head for emphasis. “I'm not.”

There was a long pause.

“Your hair is blue.”

A nod, this time, she let her hands fall to her sides. Damn, but she needed pockets. There was nothing to stuff her hands into. “I'm aware.”

“Nobody will believe you, you know.”

She tilted her head to the side. “I'm sure I can convince them.” She stepped back. “Anyway, that's all I had to say.” She gave a little half-bow, then turned to walk toward the shop. The sign depicted an anvil in an oversized horseshoe, wrought in iron. The blacksmith's place, which would belong to Hadvar's uncle. Both Hadvar and his uncle had already disappeared inside, so she knocked on the door.

A woman in a dress and apron opened it. “I'm sorry,” she began, “But we're eating dinner. Can I help you, miss …?”

“Mariah. I'm Hadvar's friend.” She smiled her most charming smile.

The woman looked to her right for a moment. Hadvar's voice, just loud enough for her to hear, said, “It's all right, she's the one I was telling you about.”

“Well! Any friend of Hadvar's is welcome here. Come on in.” The woman stepped to the side, and she walked into the cozy little room. The first thing she noticed was the furs, covering the wooden floor and walls. Part of her felt sad, because she knew real animals had died to make them, but part of her reveled in the feel of the warm fur between her still-damp toes. She had yet to put the ill-fitting boots back on. She felt a little guilty, dripping all over the rug, but she didn't have much choice in the matter.

A man in a red shirt spoke next, a smile on his face. “Come in, come in. Set that armor down, warm yourself by the fire.” So, she did, setting the armor, and her backpack, by the door. She sat down by the fireplace, her back to the fire.

“You must be hungry.” The woman smiled, looking between them. “Let me get you two something to eat.” She walked over to the cooking pot as Hadvar took a seat at the table.

The man looked over at Hadvar. “Now, then, boy, what's the big mystery? What are you doing here, looking like you lost an argument with a cave bear?”

“I don't know where to start.” Hadvar shook his head. “You know I was assigned to General Tullius's guard. We were stopped in Helgen when we were attacked … by a dragon.”

The man – Hadvar's uncle – sounded incredulous. “A dragon? That's … ridiculous! You aren't drunk, are you boy?”

“Husband, let him tell his story,” the woman protested.

Hadvar sighed. “Not much more to tell. This … dragon … flew over, and just wrecked the whole place. Mass confusion. I don't know if anyone else got out alive. I doubt I'd have made it myself, if not for my friend here.”

“That's a little too generous. I didn't do much.” She looked down and away, but she could feel it when all eyes fell on her. “Well, it's true. I'm no soldier, I barely held my own.”

Hadvar shook his head. “What about the spiders, hm? Or when you killed that Stormcloak who got behind me, or the time you fought off two of them single-handedly? You did well, trust me.” She felt herself blushing. She'd been lucky, that was all.

“Anyway, I need to get back to Solitude and let them know what's happened. I was hoping, maybe, you could help us out? Food, supplies, a place to stay, that sort of thing?” Hadvar looked hopefully at his uncle. “Please?”

The man smiled. “Of course, any friend of yours is a friend of mine. I'm glad to help however I can.” He turned to look at her, expression serious. “But, I need your help. We need your help.” Of course there was a catch. She wasn't really surprised, though – nor could she say she blamed him. He continued. “The Jarl needs to know if there's a dragon on the loose. We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun to send whatever soldiers he can. If you'll do that for me, I'll be in your debt.”

She was exhausted – whatever else, she wasn't making the trip tonight, certainly. “All right, but … how do I get to Whiterun from here?”

“Cross the river, and then head north. You'll see it, just past the falls.”

She nodded. “Across the river, head north,” she repeated. She had no idea which way north even was. She'd never learned that kind of skill, had never needed to. Hopefully there would be signs posted – and, hopefully, she'd be able to read them.

He nodded. “Now, when you get to Whiterun, just keep heading up. When you get to the top of the hill, you'll be at Dragonsreach, the Jarl's palace.”

“Okay ...” She considered for a second, then shrugged. She might as well ask it now. “So … a Jarl is some kind of a leader, right? What can you tell me about this Jarl?”

He looked at her for a second, a little confused. “Jarl Balgruuf? He rules Whiterun hold. He's a good man, perhaps over-cautious, but these are dangerous times. So far he's managed to stay out of the war, but that can't last.”

“The war? With the Stormcloaks, then? Which side does he favor?”

He looked thoughtful. “I don't think the Jarl likes either Ulfric or Elisif much. Who can blame him? But I've no doubt he'll prove loyal to the Empire in the end. He's no traitor.”

“Who's Elisif?” Another player, presumably the Empire's pick, but ….

Another look. As though he couldn't quite believe his ears. “Ah … you're new to Skyrim, then? Jarl Elisif, I should say, although only because she was married to Jarl Torygg when he was killed.”

“Who's Jarl Torygg?” She looked at him, in return, confused.

The man sighed. “Torygg was the High King of Skyrim. Ulfric murdered Torygg, you know. Walked right into Solitude and killed him. Shouted him to death, if you believe the stories.”

“Shouted? With some kind of magic?”

He nodded. “You could say that. They call it the Voice.” The General had called it that, as well. So that was why they'd gagged Ulfric … “It's a power that only a select few can master, and they say that Ulfric Stormcloak is one of that few.”

“Good to know.” She decided it was time for a change in topic, then. “Is it all right if I stay here for the night? I don't think I can make the trip tonight.”

He nodded. “Of course, of course. I need to get back to work – Sigrid will take care of you.”

“Thanks.”