A changeling's visit to Skyrim

The wagon had careened down the hill, completely out of control, until it came to a crashing halt right into a large tree. Stross had been flung from the cart on impact, landing in the river while Fenora lay there inside the wagon of various knick-knacks and cheese wheels. Both of them were singed and aching... but still alive.

“This was a triumph.” Stross announced as he pulled himself up “I’m making a note here ‘HUGE SUCCESS’!”

“I got us out in one piece didn’t I?” Fenora countered, clearly irritated at Stross and his sarcasm.

“All I’m saying is that we could have just ran for it; would have been slower, but much safer.” Stross explained as he shook the water off his scales. “What are you doing?”

Fenora was currently rummaging through the wagons’ contents, tossing aside several books and cabbages.

“Looking for something to-… A-ha!” she exclaimed as she pulled up a long, thin knife, likely used for gutting fish “Now I can get these ropes off.”

With some difficulty positioning the blade, Fenora managed to cut free from her binds. Taking a moment to rub her sore wrists, she then turned to Stross and offered him the knife. But before he was able to take it, she pulled it back, a playful smile crossing her face.

“Wait… first, tell me my escape plan was good.”

“What?”

“Go on, tell me the wagon was a good plan and I’ll give you the knife.” Fenora dangled the fish knife in front of him.

“You can’t be serious.”

Fenora's smile widened and she raised an eyebrow.

“Fine, taking the wagon was a pretty good plan, and I’m probably too hungry to run that far anyway.” Stross admitted.

“And that’s what I wanted to hear.” Fenora chirped as she sliced the ropes off.

Stross and Fenora set off down river, their prisoner rags replaced with the clothes they found along with the rest of the things on the wagon. Stross had donned a grey hooded cloak and leather boots, and Fenora was now wearing a large fur-lined garment that Stross had to assume was normally worn by males.

“Are you sure it’s okay to just take that stuff?” Stross asked as they walked along the shore of the river.

“Well, those poor people back at Helgen sure won’t need it anymore.” she answered sadly as she readjusted her makeshift pack, the rest of the non-vegetable items from the cart inside “I guess when we reach the next town I’ll let them have this stuff.”

“Where is the next town anyway?”

“Not sure, I’m not from around here you see.” Fenora told him.

“I know the feeling.”

Before long they came to a split in the path; one side continuing along the river, the other heading back up the mountain. As Stross and Fenora tried to decide which path they should take, they heard footsteps coming from the path on the right. Soon enough, they met who was making them.

“Hey, it’s you two.” Ralof ran up to them “It’s good to see you made it out alive. I thought we were all goners when that dragon attacked.”

“We need to keep moving, Riverwood isn’t far.” Hadvar joined him.

With a total of four members in their party now, they hurried down the dirt path towards the town called Riverwood.

“So this town, where is it?” Stross asked as he jogged to keep pace with the two nords.

“It’s right up ahead,” Ralof told him “my sister Gerdur and her family runs the mill there.”

“And my uncle Alvor is the local blacksmith.” Hadvar added. “We have to warn them about the attack on Helgen. I just hope we're not too late.”

As the group approached the town, they were relieved to see that it was neither on fire nor destroyed. Starkly contrasting their fears, the town was downright peaceful.  There were children playing and running around, a drunkard sitting outside the tavern, people fishing and chopping logs, and going about their business without a fear in the world past what would be for supper.

“Huh, I guess some things remain the same no matter where you go.”

“So, there’s a river… and wood.” Fenora observed out loud “Three guesses how they named the place.” she smirked.

“Lady, you would have the time of your life in Equestria.”

As they approached the center of town they overheard a conversation at the smithy.

“I’ll need those new blades for the mill soon, otherwise the logs won’t split evenly.” a woman said.

“I know that, but give it some time, will ya. You think it’s easy to sharpen all those little teeth?” a man grumbled.

They were interrupted when they noticed they had visitors.

“Ralof, brother is that you?”

“Hadvar, what brings you here my boy?”

“Uncle Alvor, Riverwood is in danger; a dragon has just destroyed Helgen.” Hadvar explained with dread in his voice.

“It’s true,” Ralof joined in “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, but there it was. It was huge, as big as the inn.”

Gerdur and Alvor exchanged looks as several other villagers gathered around, drawn by the talk of dragons.

“You see, I did see a dragon fly overhead!” an old woman yelled amongst the rest “None of you believed me, but I knew I saw it!” she threw an accusing finger at each of the others in turn.

“Did it fly?”

“Did it breathe fire?”

“How big was it?” the children asked.

“It was just like the legends and the old stories,” Hadvar told them “red eyes, and scales black as night.”

“Actually,” Stross chimed in “I got a pretty good look at it as it was diving right for us, and its scales were more grey-ish than any oth-

“Scales black as night!” Hadvar continued “Even a platoon of imperial archers couldn’t bring the beast down.”

The crowd gasped and murmured amongst themselves. You didn’t need to be a changeling to smell fear, and now there was plenty of it in this town.

“That’s because imperial steel is weak.” Ralof butted in “If those had been Stormcloak soldiers, we’d be feasting on that dragons’ meat right now!”

“You mean the same Stormcloaks that were running like cowards while we got the townspeople to safety?” Hadvar retorted.

“Last I checked, our hands had been tied up by you imperials. And at least we aren’t a bunch of elf-lovers who won’t even stand up for nord tradition!” Ralof roared.

“And at least we imperials know what’s best for Skyrim, and don’t follow a king-murdering rebel!” Hadvar yelled back.

“Oh for Shor's sake!” Gerdur interrupted the two before they could start duking it out “Enough, both of you; you’re scaring the children.”

“Yeah, the children placing bets while they line up to watch two grown men beat the tar out of each other.”

“Honestly, to think you two were such good friends when we were children ourselves." Gerdur shook her head "If there really is a dragon on the loose, then we need to tell the Jarl up in Whiterun about this so he can give us some protection.”

As Ralof and Hadvar began arguing over who should go, a thought occurred to Stross.

“Hey,” he got Fenora's attention and pulled her off to the side “Hadvar’s an imperial and Ralof’s a Stormcloak, right?”

“Yeah, and they both seem equally barbaric. What’s your point?”

“Well, one of those factions just tried to execute us, and the other is the reason they were going to execute us. So how about we just go and warn this ‘Jarl’ ourselves?”

Fenora looked at him quizzically.

“You know, before either remembers who we are and decides to kill us?” he not-so-subtly hinted.

Fenora's eyes widened. She grabbed him and they quickly made their exit while a fist fight broke out, the children cheering wildly.