This is Our Home: A Collection of Skyrim Short Stories

Riverwood: Part Two (Ylva)

17th of Last Seed, 4E 201

Ralof sighed in relief when we made it out of the cave. He sank to the ground behind a small boulder, chuckling to himself. "By the gods, we made it."

I started to say something back, but an earth-shaking roar cut me off. I dove towards the rock Ralof sat beside and hid as gusts of wind wafted over us. We watched in silent awe as the dragon flew away, keening in triumph. It flew through the clear sky, then disappeared over the peak of a mountain. Even out of sight, its roars still cleaved the air and shook the earth.

"It's gone for now," said Ralof as he stood back up. "Better get moving before it comes back." He wandered off the path and out of my view for a moment, then returned with a long walking stick. "This should help you, Raven." He extended his hand to me, hauling me to my feet.

I took the stick from him with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Ralof. My name is Ylva, by the way."

"Ylva, eh? Well, good to meet you properly. Come with me, and I'll take you to safety." He started off down the path leading towards the main road, going at a slow pace so I could keep up.

"Where are we going?"

"My sister's place in Riverwood. She owns the mill there."

"Riverwood?"

"Aye. When that leg of yours heals, you can walk to Whiterun if you wish. Or stay awhile. Gerdur won't mind."

We turned right when we reached the main road, walking away from the smell of death and destruction. The pine trees around us swayed in the wind, crickets chirped, and dartwings flitted this way and that. The peace I now witnessed seemed so off compared to the horror I had just seen.

"How's your leg?" asked Ralof after a long silence.

"I've suffered worse. What about you?"

He glanced at his arm, shrugging his good shoulder. "I'll heal. More than I can say for the others."

Was he referring to his fellow Stormcloaks, or that man he had tried to save, Hadvar? I found it strange that he would try to save an Imperial. "Ralof? Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why would you try to save Hadvar?"

His gaze fell to his feet. It was a long time before he finally answered me. "Hadvar and I come from the same village. We grew up together. His uncle is the smithy in Riverwood, right next to my sister's sawmill. When the war broke out, we fought about which side to join. To me, the choice was clear, but Hadvar had reservations about the Stormcloaks. I tried to persuade him to come with me, but he was stubborn and refused." He paused, heaving a long sigh. "We may have been enemies on the battlefield, but I had always hoped after this war ended, we could be friends again."

"I'm sorry."

"I would rather it be this way than have to face him on the battlefield. At least I never had to face him in that way." He looked up, eyebrow quirked at me. "Do you have any friends?"

I shook my head. "I've lived a hermit's life for six years. Not exactly conducive to making friends."

"Why were you crossing the border? Had enough of Skyrim?"

"It's not that. I love this place." I took a moment to survey the woods around us. "I didn't want to leave. But finding work has become hard, and I didn't know what else to do."

"You could always join the Stormcloaks. The pay may not be that good, but it's better than nothing."

"No, thanks. I'm not exactly the type to die for my land. I'm too much of a coward."