Skyrim: Rise of the Dragonborn

Chapter 17: Stories, Drinks, and Elves

Beric winced as Hadvar's Aunt Sigrid wrapped up his hand later the same day. He heard the hammer of Hadvar's Uncle, who's name Beric learned to be Alvor, clanking away at the metal. Alvor seemed to be oddly exited to hear that one of his swords had been used to spill blood onto the floor of his workplace. Beric thought it quite odd. But he could hardly complain. They'd given him fresh clothes and food. They'd been more hospitable than most in Cirodiil.

"There you go," Sigrid said tying up the last bit of the wrap.

"Thank you," Beric smiled gratefully. The pain in his hand started to fade a bit as the herbal juice started to work.

"No problem," she said smiling and standing up, "Your friend will have to stay here for a few days. He has quite the lump on the back of his head. I'm guessing he'll be foggy for a few days whenever he wakes up,"

"How long do you think he'll be out?"

"No way of telling. He could wake up tonight, or two days from now. It's in Talos' hands now," she explained as Alvor entered the front door.

"How are you holding up, lad," he said in a bear-like voice as he patted him strongly on the shoulder.

"Doing fine, thanks to the both of you," Beric nodded gratefully.

"Don't mention it," he waved his hand, "Well, I'm going to be heading to the inn for a brief drink. Care to join me? I'm paying," he invited as he motioned him to follow. Beric knew better to decline a Nord's hospitality. Nords were kindhearted at the core, and when they offered kindness, they expected that person to enjoy themselves. Beric found it quite fascinating how free this poor blacksmith was with his belongings. Such things were rarely done in Cirodiil.

"Of course," Beric nodded and stood up. Alvor leaned in after he closed the door behind them.

"There'll be quite a few of the townsfolk there that'll want to hear your story," he grinned, "I'm quite exited to hear it myself," he said as they climbed the stairs to the tavern. Alvor opened the door, ushered Beric in, and then slammed the door behind them.

"Alvor!" several men inside said in unison.

"My friends!" he said happily spreading his arms, "I find it overwhelmingly hilarious that despite this being the second attack this month, this band of brigands has yet to conquer the mighty townsfolk of Riverwood!" he said initiating a cheer from the men, "In fact, we haven't really lost anything important, have we?"

"I lost a finger!" shouted one of the men holding up his bandaged hand.

"Oh, come on, Ragnar, your finger isn't important!" laughed one of the men.

"How dare you talk about his poor finger that way," joked Alvor, "His finger was the only pretty thing about Ragnar. Now instead of being mostly ugly, now he's completely ugly!" he shouted causing the large hall of the tavern to erupt in laughter.

"Good one, Alvor," Ragnar said slapping him on the back, "Who's your pet?" he said pointing to Beric. Beric smirked at the joke at his expense.

"This pet of mine is an adventurer," Alvor said with wonder in his eyes, "I'm sure you all remember the dragon roar from several days ago," they all nodded as Beric recalled memories of the dragon, "He actually saw it. In fact, he barely escaped it with his life!" Alvor said dramatically causing groans of horror to fill the room. It was then that Beric realized just how chaotic his world had gotten. He was being chased by the Thalmor, he was in Skyrim for some reason he couldn't quite figure out, and then to top it all off, a dragon attacked just as soon as he rested his head on the block...a dragon. He wasn't sure if the timing of it all or the fact that it was a real-life dragon was stranger. Dragons hadn't been sighted for over a thousand years and yet he saw one just a few days ago. The world was strange, and he had a hunch that stranger days lay ahead.