Mage (A Skyrim Fanfiction)

Chapter 7: A New Friend... Sort of.

Afternoon had faded into dusk, and we still hadn't moved from the place we'd stopped at earlier that day. I was perched on a relatively small boulder, thinking about the strange chain of events that had happened during the past two days while Helgír had wandered a ways from the spot I was in, clearly deep in thought himself.

Ealdwine... He has to be... He's got to be dead. There's no logical way he'd still be alive, if the only other thing I can come up with is that he's got some sort of high position in the Forsworn ranks, high enough to have his own men. If he does, he's going against everything the House of Abgrall stands for. And the brother I knew would die before betraying his family or dishonoring his name. He was almost like a Nord in those respects... A fleeting smile crosses my face for a moment as I relive a few childhood memories, but those quickly die away as I resume my thoughts, And what is the issue with my companion? Being the Dragonborn isn't anything to be ashamed of... He has to have done something... Maybe he killed someone he shouldn't have, or at one point became part of a shady or unjust company, or... I don't know. Nothing's ever been this complicated before. I ran my hands through my hair, frustrated, and sighed. As if it's not enough trying to fulfill a personal dream that seems near impossible.

I got up, stretching slightly, and found myself walking over towards Helgír. What am I doing? I don't know what to say, much less how he'll react, the more sensible side of me cautioned, but the rest of me ignored it as I went to sit down beside him. He glanced at me, briefly surprised, but then looked away, and I sat there awkwardly for a few moments before he looked at me again, asking quietly, "Why are you just sitting here so comfortably? Aren't you... afraid of me, after what happened?"

His expression was unreadable as he spoke, and I didn't like how stoic he'd become since breakfast this morning. I responded cautiously, "I guess I should be, but I... honestly, I don't know what to make of anyone or anything anymore."

"Believe me, you get used to it," Helgír laughed bitterly, but his face regained its neutral look after his statement.

"Uh... You don't actually think I'm involved in anything with the Forsworn, do you?" I asked awkwardly, hoping he would respond reasonably.

"I don't know. Judging by your reactions to those men and to my accusation, I'd say no, but you can't really trust anyone out here. Trust is usually what gets you killed."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Exactly what I said. Trusting someone blindly is a bad idea. Even if you'd trust someone with your life, sleep with one eye open, because you never know if they'll turn against you and try to kill you when you're at your most vulnerable."

I thought about his words for a moment, and how they had been spoken as if he'd had an experience like that. I winced at the thought.

There was another long, somewhat tense pause, and I was weighing the risks of asking him about the whole "Dragonborn" business when I suddenly heard shouts coming from not too far away, and sounds of people fighting.

I turned to the Nord, and it was clear he had heard it and his curiosity had been sparked as well. "Let's go find out what that's all about, shall we?"

"I think that's an idea," I agreed as I ran to the edge of the outcropping we'd stopped on and looked down.

A distance away, near the bottom of the craggy slope we'd traversed, was a group of people -who I assumed must be bandits- surrounding one person, who looked considerably younger than his assailants. However, he seemed to be holding his own fairly well, and, as I watched, he took down one of his opponents quite showily, arrogantly twirling his weapon -which I noticed with some discomfort was a war-hammer- as he turned to fight the next man who dared approach him. It was almost as if he knew we were watching, and I heard Helgír let out an amused snort as he watched the boy alongside me.