The Dragonborn Comes (a Skyrim fanfiction)

Chapter Eight: Gallows Rock

I wake up feeling sore and achey all over. It's also freezing cold...and I'm stark naked, only covered up by a thin blanket. 

"Are you awake now?" I hear Aela's voice and I let out a groan in response. "I was starting to think you might not come back. Yours was not an easy transformation but you're alive, so congratulations,"

"Thanks, I think," I mutter and I try to wrap the blanket around me tighter. How long have I been out?

"We even have a celebration planned for you. There's a pack of werewolf hunters camped nearby, at Gallows Rock. The Silver Hand...I think you've met them before. We're going to slaughter them, all of them. Skjor's already scouting ahead,"

"Where's my stuff?"

Aela points to a chest that's near our makeshift camp. I slip into my armour gratefully and I sheathe my weapons. I still feel incredibly dizzy and I stand up shakily, only to stumble forward.

"You'll get used to this. Oh, and Eorland fixed up your armour for you and sharped your blades. Perfect for our little trip tonight," Aela assures me. 

I make a mental note to thank Eorland and I follow after Aela, trying to keep my balance. My sense have heightened dramatically and I can hear the snow touching the ground as it falls, Aela's steady breathing and I can even just about make out the smell of our prey up ahead. It's a strange feeling, but if this is the price I have to pay for being part of the Circle then so be it. 

We get to the little fortress and Aela gestures for me to duck down while she snipes out the archers. I charge on the remaining ones and swiftly put an end to them. Skjor wasn't lying when he said this would make me stronger. 

Once we've taken care of the ones outside, we progress inside. The first room is small with a few ruined books and a sealed gate. 

"I'll find the lever," I volunteer.

"Cowards must have locked the place down after Skjor charged in. You can taste the fear," Aela observes. I find a chain and I pull it, the iron gate opening shortly after. The two of us go through a corridor and there's a dead werewolf in the second chamber. The room reeks of death and fear. 

"What happened here!?" I gasp. 

Aela frowns. "Not sure...this is nobody we know, by the smell. Some can't separate the animal from themselves. Go feral. This poor sod could have been anyone. We should keep moving,"

We make our way through the underground fortress, killing the Silver Hand as we go along. They don't offer much of a fight and are embarrassingly easy to kill. In the next chamber we get to there are more cells with even more dead werewolves. There are also a few torture racks around...they definitely didn't die quickly and painlessly. They've also been dead for quite a while. 

"Do you think Skjor is okay?" I ask Aela, genuinely feeling worried.

She doesn't acknowledge my question, making me feel even more nervous. "Nothing we can do for these ones now. Don't even want to think about what those cretins did to them before they died," she looks up and frowns, tightening her grip on her bow. "We're getting close now. Be careful, their leader is a tricky one. They call her The Skinner. I don't think I need to tell you why,"

Definitely not, I think to myself. 

We push on and continue eliminating the Silver Hands. They become easy prey, seeing as Aela never misses her target and my own weapons are deadly. We make an excellent team together. I try very hard to ignore a strange feeling growing inside of me, a feeling of wanting to transform and go on a rampage. Must be the beast blood combined with my dragon soul.