The trio made their way into the town of Riverwood on weary legs. Despite switching out his footwraps with a proper pair of boots from one of Alduin’s victims, the half-day walk did a number on Jules. Hiking winding forest trails wasn’t something that he was used to, with his lifestyle more often involving sitting in front of a computer for hours at a time. The town was surrounded by a tall and fancy wooden palisade, constructed in such a way as to allow a walkway at the top covered by a simple roof. Beyond it laid the rest of Riverwood, somewhat larger than how Jules remembered it in the game. There were still two or three long roads dotted with wooden buildings, but the properties surrounding each building seemed to be larger. It could’ve just been a matter of perspective, what with Jules now experiencing it in a true first person, but he didn’t think that was really the case.
The sun was just lowering past the mountains on the western horizon, casting the entirety of the town in the shadow of twilight and making the trio’s shadows stretch far. Nobody was out and about, but the sounds of living could be heard from the nearby houses, and light shined out of their windows. Farther into town, there was a particular building whose lights were brighter and sounds were louder. It was only a single story, yet just as tall as the surrounding two-floor houses and much longer. The three let the jovial sounds and delicious smells of food carry them through the door and into the Sleeping Giant Inn.
The inside gave off the same welcoming vibe as the outside, with a large main hall filled to the brim with tables and people, and a massive fire burning in a stone structure in the center of the room. The viking longhouse design of the building led to the fire stretching far further than it was wide. Doors dotted the side walls, no doubt leading into guest rooms, and at the front was a bar with obligatory long table, stools, and barman. Faces began to turn around to see who had entered the inn, and they all stopped in place when they realized who was there, or rather who was there together. The music abruptly halted when the performing bard stopped strumming his lute to see for himself.
“Hello everyone, we’re home,” said Ralof, trying and failing to break the ice. He looked awkwardly at Hadvar who shrugged in response. It had been a while since anyone in Riverwood had seen the two so close together without their hands wrapped around each other's necks.
“Well, what are you all staring at?” started a woman from the crowd. “They look like they’ve been marching all day to get here! Let them get a drink before you bother them!”
Her commanding voice was all that was needed to get the curious onlookers to go back to what they were doing before, the shock at the sudden arrival quickly lost. Ralof led Jules to the bar where the lady sat, while Hadvar walked over to one of the tables at the side.
“Thanks for getting them off our backs, Gerdur,” said Ralof, addressing the woman. “I think we all need a good helping of mead or ale before we can speak. By the way, this is Jules, he’s a friend I met recently who helped me out of a serious bind.”
“A friend of Ralof is a friend of mine. What did you help him out with, if you don’t mind saying?” asked Gerdur. “Actually, hold on to that thought. Barkeep! A round of mead for the three of us!”
The man tending to the bar walked over holding three glass bottles filled with a clear, yellow liquid and topped with a cork. He expertly opened them with a flick of the wrist for each bottle, before placing them in front of three adjacent seats at the bar. Gerdur was already occupying one of the stools, and she motioned Ralof and Jules towards the two empty ones next to her. Ralof settled into his seat with a comfortable familiarity and took a long, hard drink from his bottle. Jules followed his lead, taking the third seat before picking up and contemplating his bottle.
“Have you never had mead before?” asked Gerdur. “You don’t look like you’re from Skyrim, and the fact that you haven’t even taken your first sip confirms it. It’s just alcohol, like ale, but brewed from honey. Skyrim’s specialty.”
Jules looked up at her before nodding. It’s true, he’d never seen or drunk mead before. Sure, he’d seen it in the game but it was nothing more than an opaque yellow bottle there. Here, it was a proper drink, with an actual clear glass bottle and a flowing, bubbling, golden colored liquid inside. The only kind of drink he ever experienced was beer, generally the cheap kind, so this was something entirely new. No point in just contemplating a drink, Jules thought. He slowly picked up the bottle and took a cautious sip. It was most definitely alcohol, but very sweet! What else is there to expect from a drink brewed from honey?
“You like it, that’s good! You’re going to be drinking a lot of it in Skyrim,” said Gerdur with a smile, happy with Jules’ reaction. “I’ll buy you two dinner, and maybe then you can tell me what all this is about?”
Gerdur called over the barkeep and ordered two stews, who returned relatively quickly from the kitchen whose entrance was right behind the bar with the order and placed them in front of Ralof and Jules. The aroma hit Jules in the face like a punch from someone wearing the perfect amount of perfume. It grabbed at his senses and pulled him in softly yet surely. In the bowl were various root vegetables that were fried and boiled in broth. Carrots, onions, and radishes were cut into thin circles or semi-circles. The stew was then thickened with creamy-soft potatoes and finished with the addition of pieces of cooked meat and a sprinkle of some dried green leaf, probably parsley. The plainly decorated ceramic bowl holding the soup came on a plate made of the same material that also held several large slices of rustic bread. Jules could see that a blend of grains and seeds were used to make it, pieces of them scattered throughout the fluffy, brown insides. The whole meal smelled incredible, and pulled Jules’ attention so hard that he nearly missed what Gerdur said next.
“That stew isn’t going to eat itself! Orgnar is a great cook, if you liked the mead I’m sure you’ll enjoy this,” she said, snapping Jules out of his thoughts.
Jules picked up the spoon with his cold hands, letting the steam coming from the stew warm them, before delicately lifting it to his mouth and taking the first bite. The savory taste made him open his eyes wide, the earthiness of the dish grounded him to reality, and the heat thawed the thoughts he’d put on ice when he first came here. Jules took another bite with alacrity, and another. The bowl began to empty of stew, but began filling with tears that dripped down Jules’ cheeks. The few breaths he took in between each bite came out as sobs, and the bread was tempting him to use it as a handkerchief.
“Easy there, just let it all out,” said Ralof, putting his arm around Jules’ shoulder. “I’d be crying too if that was the first time I’d ever experienced that.”
A few of the other patrons began looking over, but a cold glare from Gerdur convinced them to mind their own business.
“What happened there, Ralof? If it’s enough to get you to travel with Hadvar again and make someone cry like that...” began Gerdur.
“Just more death,” said Ralof. “It was going to be the end of the line. The imperials captured me, Ulfric Stormcloak, and many others, and brought us to Helgen for an execution. Luckily, they didn’t get their way, and… you wouldn’t believe this, but we were attacked by a dragon!”
“Dragon? Is that what that was? Some of the other townsfolk talked about seeing something big and black flying through the sky. Sven’s mother swore it was a dragon, and I guess she was right.”
“Aye. That dragon burned down the entire town and killed most of my men. No, it killed most of every man there. Stormcloak, Imperial, and civilian. I lost track of Ulfric, but I’m sure he would have made it out alive. Same goes for General Tullius. Jules over here is also another civilian too but from Cyrodiil, and he’s the reason I’m alive. So I don’t want anyone calling him a milk drinker!” That last line was said much more loudly for all of the other patrons to hear. None of them dared challenge it.
“And you and Hadvar?” asked Gerdur.
“Also Jules’ doing. We were about to kill each other, but somehow he convinced us to drop it, he made us unite against the dragon.”
“He must have a way with words then, or that dragon is a bigger threat than it looks.”
“Aye, it is. It’s A… terrible beast, responsible for so much destruction, more than a small army is capable of,” said Ralof, with a suspicious pause in his sentence. Gerdur looked at him suspiciously for a second, but decided to drop it.
Jules listened in on their conversation, still letting his face leak freely. In his bewildered state, he did actually try using the bread to wipe away some of his tears, just to see what it tasted like. Salty. Just how he felt about the world around him. His sadness had peaked at the beginning of the meal, but as he filled his stomach, Jules was able to calm down just enough for the tears to dry. With a final deep breath, he pushed the spoon clatter into the bowl and pushed it and the plate away from him before taking a long drink from his mead. The stinging sensation going down his throat and the new warmth that followed helped take his mind of the day’s events even further.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“You’re taking to mead like a true Nord!” exclaimed Ralof. “But before you drown yourself in it, we need to talk about what we’re going to do next.”
Ralof found Hadvar in the crowd and called him over. He was talking to another man who was much older and had well defined muscles in his arms, even compared to the professional soldier. Hadvar finished up his conversation before making his way to the other two. They found a quiet corner of the bar and began their discussion.
“Alright, so it looks like that dragon flew by here,” began Ralof.
“It sure did, half the town saw him!” interrupted Hadvar.
“But it didn’t attack the town, so Riverwood is hopefully safe for now,” finished Ralof, with mild irritation. “Now the question is, what do we do? I have to tell the rest of the Stormcloaks, and you wanted to tell the Imperial legion.”
“Right. But what if the town does get attacked? We need to make sure it’s protected” asked Hadvar.
“You saw what that dragon did, it took down the best of the Imperials and Stormcloaks! The two of us have no chance against that,” replied Ralof, with anger and a hint of despair.
“Jules mentioned something about there being more dragons in his earlier speech,” began Hadvar. “And those dragons definitely won’t be Alduin. Will soldiers have any hope of killing those?”
“Yes. They can be killed,” said Jules. “But… ,” He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to make himself look any more suspicious. “The dragons were already dead. Alduin can bring them to life, or so I’ve read. But they died once, and they can die again. Also, why didn’t you tell Gerdur that the dragon was Alduin?”
“Simple, I didn’t want her or the townspeople to freak out,” replied Ralof. “If there is an attack, I want them to have level heads when they escape, unlike many of the civilians in Helgen.”
“Anyway, there we have it, we can kill the other dragons,” concluded Hadvar. “Now that we’re safe, I think it’s time you told us how you know so much about the dragons and what just happened.”
Busted. Jules knew this moment was an inevitability. But as the price for saving the lives of even just Hadvar and Ralof, it was worth it. Despite the buzz of the mead numbing his mind, Jules knew he couldn’t just say that the entire world around them was just a story and he was somehow dragged into it. Any goodwill he’d accrued would be gone if they all thought he was crazy. Jules felt bad about not having anyone to share that burden with, but these two had already helped him shoulder so many others.
“I was a scholar on a lot of old myths. There was something about a prophecy I read that seemed to be coming true, at least with the current situation in Skyrim, so I wanted to move here for a while so I could study it.” Jules blurted out, somehow more naturally than he thought he would have. That’s liquid courage for you.
“That makes sense, but then why did you choose Riverwood of all places? There isn’t much to research here of all places. And not much work you can find that uses your brains,” replied Hadvar.
“Yeah, that mage’s college in Winterhold would have been a better place to settle down if you wanted to do more studying,” added Ralof.
“Would either of you want to live in Winterhold?” asked Jules, rhetorically. Winterhold was a small town on one of the northern-most points of Skyrim, perpetually covered in ice. It does boast a place of higher learning in the only Mage’s College in the country, but most of the town was destroyed about a century ago by some cataclysmic geological and meteorological event called the Great Collapse. Now, the only things worth living in the town for are the inn and its booze, and the college. “Yeah, me neither. Riverwood looked like a nicer place to live, and I can always have anything I need shipped.”
“By courier? They can be quite expensive, but I’m guessing you have grant money from back home, or had,” said Hadvar.
“Yeah, by courier. I mean, I wouldn’t do it often or anything, and that plan is now toast” replied Jules, stumbling through the sentence. He was thinking of the modern day postal service when he mentioned shipping, it was a good thing Hadvar inadvertently saved him with his response.
“Well seeing as how your original plan is no longer viable, what are you going to do now?” began Ralof. “Without the money you had, you’ll need a job. Or maybe Riverwood isn’t a good place to get a start on your research without your funds, maybe travel to one of the other holds, maybe a bigger city?”
“I… uh,” Jules hesitated.
“For goodness sakes, man. Jules has just been through the worst day in his life, and you’re already pushing him to make big decisions. And here I was thinking the Stormcloak army would teach you some sense about these things,” interrupted Hadvar.
“The army has taught me plenty, thank you,” replied Ralof, with a snarl on his face. He sighed, dropping the frustration and turned back to Jules. “But he has a point. Take some time to rest up first, and find something to do that will keep your mind off things while you recover up here.” Ralof pointed towards his head with that last remark.
“Yeah, thanks.” Jules couldn’t help but smile at the two. Here they were, still helping him out even after their misadventure. Riverwood was quaint, but Jules could see how sitting in the inn all day could become incredibly boring quickly. There was also the matter of…
“So how are you three enjoying yourselves? Can I get you all something to drink?” asked a feminine voice in front of them. She stood tall with a blue and brown dress, with blond hair, and an especially hardy face unlike most of the other mundane townsfolk.
“Yes please, another round of mead for us,” replied Ralof.
“Great, it’ll be right back with it,” the lady began. “Say, I couldn’t help but hear you talk about dragons. A lot of the townsfolk were on about how one flew over earlier today, but I didn’t get a good look at it. Honestly, if so many people weren’t saying the same thing, I’d think it was all some practical joke!”
“It was no joke, we saw that thing up close and personal,” said Hadvar this time.
“That can’t be good for business then. There’s already the increase in wolf sightings and bandits with the civil war making travel hard, but now a dragon? Not going to be as many visitors the way things are going. But it looks like you’ve been kind enough to bring me one,” the lady replied, looking at Jules. “Oh, I’m Delphine, by the way. I’m the inn’s owner.”
“Oh uh, I’m Jules. Pleasure to meet you.” Jules stuttered, startled at the sudden interruption.
“Same here. Don’t worry, I won’t bite!” replied Delphine with a too-cheery tone. “There’s a lot of gossip about that dragon, so I’d love to get the real story from people who were so close to it. Feel free to let me know, and I might get you all a free round.”
With a smile and a wink that was definitely rehearsed, she made her way to the bar. Jules took another deep breath and began to settle down again. This world was full of so many surprises, but to Jules’ credit, most of them were due to stress getting in the way of recollection. He hoped that getting a chance to get his bearings would help him deal with that in the future.
“So, do we cash in on that free round?” asked Ralof after a long pause in the conversation.
“What’s there to cash in on? The thing was big, ugly, and breathed fire,” replied Hadvar.
“I’ll drink to that!” said Jules, trying to force a chuckle out of himself. To his surprise,the other two smiled and laughed.
As the night continued on, the three talked about various light topics, such as the weather or how the local crops were doing. Things that wouldn’t remind any of them about the horrors of the world outside. The war, the dragon, and the death were all banished from their little corner of the inn. Alcohol flowed freely, easing their minds even more and letting them feel the most temporary relief from it all for just one night. As the embers in the inn’s hall died down and people began to head back home for the night, the two soldiers, previously bitter enemies but now in an ambivalent truce, paid for themselves and their strange new friend.
“Seeing as how you’re out of cash, we’ve covered your tab,” said Ralof to Jules. “We even bought you a night here in one of the guest rooms.”
“And I've been asking around about getting you a job in the meantime. Sitting in an inn all day cannot be fun, no matter what anyone tells you,” said Hadvar.
They made their way to leave the inn, ready to let sleep bring finality to their depressing day. Hadvar left first, with Ralof following behind him at a distance. Before he exited the door out into the cold night, he turned around.
“And Jules, thank you. It’s been a long time since I was able to talk to my friend. I hope things work out well for you in Skyrim. She can be a harsh mistress.”
Ralof slowly made his way out of the inn and closed the door behind him. In his drunken stupor, Jules made his way to the guest room that Delphine had pointed out to him earlier, towards the back end of the inn to the left of the bar. The room itself was small, but cozily decorated with a bed, wooden table and chair, and a cabinet. Jules stumbled past the table somehow without knocking over the pitcher of water on it, and fell into bed. He roughly pulled the sheets over his body and drifted off.
---
The inn was quiet. Its visitors had gone home and all that was left was Jules, its sole guest, and the owner. Everyone was asleep or away, Delphine made sure of it. Sure, Jules tossed and turned in his bed, murmuring things incomprehensible, but he was definitely asleep. The door to Delphine’s room opened slowly and quietly thanks to the well-oiled hinges as she made her way inside. In fact, it was the only door in the inn that was so well maintained, much to the chagrin of the ever-rare guest.
Delphine closed the door with the same grace before changing out of her barmaid clothes into something more practical. She opened the wooden cupboard and hung her previous outfit on its rack before pushing away the cupboard’s back panel to reveal a hidden staircase. She made her way down the steps to an underground room. It was small, yet much larger than any of the guest rooms. Its walls were lined with stone and a small pipe ran from its ceiling to the world above to keep fresh air flowing in and out. The southern wall hung with several racks of exotic weapons and armor, and the eastern wall with shelves filled with various potions, poisons, and ingredients. At the center was a sturdy, wooden table with various books and maps, and on the northern wall was a cork board. The board was mostly empty, save for a few pieces of paper attached to it, including a map of Skyrim and a colored pin placed on the city of Helgen.
Delphine spent a solid minute gazing at the board before placing a rough sketch and name of a book next to the map. She carefully took some thin thread and connected the pins holding those two new additions together.
“So who are you, Jules?” asked Delphine in a quiet whisper. “An Imperial scholar with knowledge about the dragons shows up in Skyrim right alongside them. It’s probably too much, but it’s the only lead I have for now. Just what do you know?”
Above the secret room, in his guest bed, Jules continued his restless sleep. Dreams are said to be the brain’s way of processing the day’s events, to collect and categorize them before committing them to long-term storage. If this is the case, then it was no wonder Jules was being plagued by nightmares.
“Ah!” Jules jolted up with a scream that died off as it left his mouth. He was alive, that was the first thing he thought of. Alive, and in hell, powerless against forces in the world beyond his reckoning. At least, that was what he dreamed of. Jules was still drunk, but enough of the booze had been filtered out by his liver that he had the dexterity to pour himself a cup of water from the pitcher on the table next to his bed. He had dreamed of Alduin chasing him all over Skyrim. No matter how hard he flailed his legs, he was only moving at a snail’s pace, and the evil dragon god’s laugh was getting louder behind him. He didn’t dare turn around to see until it was too late, when a searing inferno was about to hit him. Jules took more deep breaths before trying to get back to sleep. He could only hope that things would get better. After all, Skyrim is a game, shouldn’t it be fun?