Dovah ahrk Od

II

Once Hadvar and Enora stepped upon the road that led to his childhood village, they could immediately tell that something was wrong.

Large rocks scattered the pathway, some with animals trapped underneath—their blood painting the earth below their corpses.

"Something is wrong...Enora, can you stand?"

She shrugged, struggling out of the soldier's arms and slowly regaining balance on her legs—resembling that of a newborn fawn.

"I'm wobbly, but it's good enough," she said, walking alongside Hadvar as they neared the village.

The sight of the south gate crushed under an enormous chunk of the earth alarmed Hadvar enough to where he took off running, leaving the Breton girl behind.

Concerned herself, Enora pushed along as best she could, nearly gasping as she finally took sight in what had befallen this river village.

Houses were destroyed, and citizens were injured. Perhaps, some were even dead.

It didn't take long for her to spot her friend—cuddling close to a little girl.

Enora rushed over as best she could, kneeling down in front of the two. Her voice was soft, like that of a concerned mother. "Hadvar, what it is? What happened?"

Hadvar choked on his own words, barely able to make out the situation. "Aunt...Uncle Alvor...rock..."

The Breton wasn't daft; she knew what he meant. The crushed house across from them must have been the home of the beloved aunt  and uncle that her new friend had chatted so fondly of on their way here. Such a kind, young man did not deserve to lose them in a sick, twisted way.

"I-I'm sorry. I tried to save them, but my magic ran thin. I...I used too much power, and...I'm sorry."

Enora and Hadvar glanced up in the direction of the voice, shocked to spot a tall, elven man—his face concealed within an ebony mask.

"Who are you?" Hadvar asked, standing up and keeping his cousin close.

The mysterious man glanced away. "Jokul Black Briar, member of the Black Briar family."

Hadvar's eyes widened, though Enora seemed confused. "Black Briar? What's so important about someone named Black Briar?"

The Imperial soldier nearly hissed at her. "Be careful about what you say! The Black Briars are the most influential family in all of Skyrim. Every organization here has some sort of ties with the family. They are the definition of power and wealth."

A slight blush coated the young woman's face, and she glanced away, embarrassed. Her eyes settled for the destroyed blacksmith. "What happened here?"

"I know that this will be hard to believe, but a dragon flew by this place," he started, not expecting the other two to nearly choke on their saliva.

"It came here too?!" Hadvar nearly screeched out.

"Was it as dark as anything could ever be? Did it shout these strange spells that just crushed the foundation beneath him?"

Jokul grew even more concerned. "How do you know about this dragon...?"

Hadvar held little Dorthe even closer. "It attacked Helgen, right before the executions properly began. So many died. The entire town is in ruins!"

"I see...well, then I'm sure you can easily figure out how a meteor suddenly fell and crushed your dear uncle's Blacksmith."

The young man gritted his teeth, cursing under his breath. "Gods save us all..."

"Hadvar, what's going to happen to me? I don't have a Mama and Papa anymore," the little girl sniffed out, burying her face into her cousin's side.

He ran his fingers through her hair. "Hush now. You know your father raised you to be stronger than that. I'll take care of you once this awful war is over, and we'll rebuild Uncle Alvor's blacksmith. After this war, we'll become blacksmiths together. Now, how does that sound?"

"Sounds good, but where will I stay until you don't have to fight anymore?" she asked.

Hadvar thought about it for a minute before suddenly smiling a tad. "Gerdur and Hod will look after you, I'm sure."

"But they're Stormcloaks. Don't you hate that?"

"I hate the idea of you homeless even more, Dorthe," he explained, "now, let's go find them. I'm sure we can work out some sort of deal."

After the cousins left, Enora felt a bit awkward alone.

"What happened to your clothes?"

His voice startled her, causing the woman to jolt. She glanced up at this mysterious creature. "Oh, it's you."

He seemed unamused by that. "Little One, what happened to your clothes?"

"It's Enora, and to put it simply, I was kidnapped and held hostage for a few months, and then when I finally escaped, I ran too fast and hit a branch."

"And then you went to Helgen?" he asked, a bit confused.

She sighed. "Not really...the Imperials ambushed the Stormcloaks near where I was. I woke up by a crazy woman kicking me off of a cart."

"How does one mistake such a small halfling for a Stormcloak soldier? You are neither Nord nor Imperial who was born and raised within the customs of Skyrim."

"I am not the shortest creature on this planet, you know. You are just insanely tall!" Enora huffed out, annoyed with the repeated comments regarding her height.

"I am what my race grants me, but you are even small for a Breton, are you not?"

The Breton rolled her eyes. "What race are you anyway? You look like an Altmer, but your hands are too pale to match their race."

He looked away. "My species is none of your concern."

"Oh, well I suppose it was nice talking with you. I'm going to Whiterun now. If memory serves me, they are the closest town—the city of this hold, actually. They need to know about these dragon attacks...unless they've also experienced destruction," she explained.

Jokul hummed, nodding once. "I understand, but you can't visit Dragonsreach dressed like a street beggar."

"I don't exactly have the coin to buy new clothes..."

He chuckled, reaching into his pocket and handing her a well-sized pouch of gold coins. "Buy whatever suits you. I'm assuming that you normally wear robes enchanted with that of magicka enhances?"

She blushed lightly. "Is it that obvious? But thank you. I couldn't acc—"

"Nonsense. You need clothes."

"But there must be something that I could do for you, perhaps. I feel awful using such a large amount of currency without granting anything in return..." Enora stared at the pouch, unsure of what to do.

Jokul lightly tapped the bottom portion of his mask in thought before creating the perfect idea. "I'm not quite ready to head home just yet. You seem like a powerful mage—one who could protect me if I were to venture into the wilderness without a carriage and guards. How about I accompany you on your journey to Whiterun, and you provide me protection."

"Are...you sure? Whiterun is a short walk from here. The worst you'd encounter are wolves," she said.

The mer nodded. "I've been sheltered for my entire life. I suppose you could say that I'm...vulnerable...when it comes to combat."

Enora pondered on this for a few seconds before eventually nodding in agreement. "Alright. You've got yourself a deal—just let me grab a new outfit, and we'll be on our way."

As she trotted towards the trader, Jokul couldn't help but to smirk behind his mask.

She was an interesting little Breton...