As Fjorrod’s senses returned to him, he felt overwhelmed by the pain. From his sides where he had several claw marks, his back, which he felt was broken, to the wound in his side that throbbed in pain, everything hurt.
He struggled to fall back into the grasp of sleep, but rest alluded him. He desperately attempted to regain his memories, knowing only that he marched to the town nearby with Ulfric, and then was… dropped? He shook his head in confusion, before suddenly recalling one thing with crystal clarity. Dragon. Suddenly sitting up in fear, his body burst with protest, sending waves, no floods, of pain to his brain. Falling down again, he gave up, letting his muscles go limp.
Besides, Fjorrod sluggishly thought, If the dragon was here, I wouldn’t have woken up.
Fjorrod turned on his side, gently as to not reawaken the red-hot beast inside of him that was pain. From his limited view, he saw the front of the town… What was the town’s name? It might be Helgen, the town closest to my house… Wait, my house! It… Ah, blast those divine-forsaken Imperials, they burnt it to the ground. I would have seen the dragon if he was the cause of the smoke.
Fjorrod suddenly registered footsteps, and realized how helpless he was to defend himself. Relaxing his body, he pretended to be dead, praying that whoever it was behind him would think he was just another corpse.
As the footsteps stopped, directly behind Fjorrod, he held his breath. He then heard a voice cry out, “Dead! They’re all dead! Oh, what will I do?” At that point, whoever was talking burst into sobs, whimpering meaningless words of sadness in between her tears.
Fjorrod could hear that the person was a female, but couldn’t quite place what race was speaking. It sounded like a… Khajiit, almost, but the person used the pronoun I, as opposed to saying this one. It also sounded… just plain different from all the races’ usual dialect.
Fjorrod wasn’t given much time to ponder the matter though, as the women, her cries turning to ones of anger and betrayal, fiercely kicked him, forcing Fjorrod to let out an involuntary shout of pain as his back was moved even further from its natural position.
The person leapt back in shock, saying quickly, “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were still alive!”
Fjorrod, fighting through the pain, rolled around to see the women. As it turned out, she was a Khajiit, a young girl. Suddenly becoming aware of the fact that he was ravenously thirsty, he struggled to speak, managing only “Water… Please, water.”
“Of course, of course,” The young Khajiit said, flustered. She fished out a waterskin from her pack, and handed it to him. Fjorrod sipped the water, knowing that if he drank it all at once, he would just vomit the water out, and make him even more thirsty.
After slowly draining the waterskin, he asked the young Khajiit, “Do you live here?”
“No,” came the hesitant reply, “We were just visiting. My mother said…. Mother said we shouldn’t stay here too long because of the Nords,” She finished quickly, her lower lip trembling.
She then realized that he, under all of the ash and blood, was a Nord. “Oh! I didn’t mean, umm, I didn’t mean that-” She fumbled for the right words, before being gently interrupted by Fjorrod.
“Shh, ‘tis fine. I’m aware that my fellow Nords can be rather… Ignorant. At least, when it comes to other races.”
The Khajiit nodded absently in agreement, before Fjorrod started speaking again.
“So, please tell me, what is your name?”
The Khajiit hesitated, before answering curtly, “Ma’osri.”
“That's… That's a good name,” Fjorrod said, struggling from another wave of pain. “So, Ma’osri, do you think you could turn around? Putting all my bones back into place is a bloody business, one that you shouldn’t have to see.”
Ma’osri hesitated, then determinedly said, “No, I can help you. I don’t care about the blood, I’ve seen worse when my mother was patching up my father after a saw mill accident.”
Fjorrod raised one eyebrow, then, realizing that she would not let in, accepted her kindness. “In that case, I’d be glad to have the help. Now, what looks the worst?”
“The back,” Ma’osri promptly answered, “But we should put your legs in first, it will make it easier to brace you when we do put your back into place.”
“Okay then, let’s do this. On my count, okay? Okay, here we go. One, two… three!” Ma’osri, hearing Fjorrod say the word, firmly put his leg into place.
“OW! BY THE LOVE OF TALOS’ HOLY BAL-”
About a half hour later, they were done.
“Whew! That took some effort. Thanks for the help, I’m not sure if I could have done it without you.” Fjorrod stated, wiping sweat off his brow.
“It was the least I could do,” Said Ma’osri. “Where do you plan on going?”
Fjorrod hesitated, for he had no idea where he was going. “Oh, you know, off to Falkreath, and then maybe to-”
“Falkreath?” Interrupted Ma’osri, with a perplexed expression. “That’s controlled by the Imperials. You know, the ones that tried chopping off your head.”
Oh no, Fjorrod thought, The Imperials extended their reach further into Skyrim.
“I’ll figure out a place,” Fjorrod abruptly told Ma’osri.
“Oh really?” Ma’osri said, not convinced. “Well, if you haven’t forgotten, my parents are both… gone, so what are you going to do with me? Send me into the woods with some food?”
“No, no, of course not,” Fjorrod protested. “I’ll just… I’ll….‘
Ma’osri, sensing an opening, leaped on her opportunity. “Why not take me with you?”
“Take you with me? Why...” Fjorrod trailed off, unsure of himself.
“Because, that way I’ll be protected. And, in return, I can tell you all the latest news of Skyrim, the stuff you seem to be missing out on. And I’ll help you blend in with the Imperials. And I won’t starve in the woods. And-”
“All right, all right!” Fjorrod said, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll take you with me, fine. Just be warned, it will be dangerous. Bandits could rob us, or-”
“Or what? Those are the dangers of life, if I can’t handle those, I’m not ready for the world,” Ma’osri said fiercely.
“Fine, fine, you win. But… there is another reason you want to come with me, I can sense it.”
Ma’osri hesitated, before replying, “Well… I’ve always wanted to learn how to shoot a bow like you can. I saw you shoot at the dragon when I was running away in the chaos, you’re an amazing shot. I was thinking you could.... teach me?” She finished hesitantly.
Fjorrod began studying her, before slowly nodding agreement. “All right. It will be hard work, but it will be handy for the extra food and protection from bandits.”
Ma’osri blinked in surprise. “All… All right? You accepted me?” Her voice cracking into a high pitch of excitement. “I mean… of course, of course you accepted me. I never doubted it,” She stated, hiding a grin.
“Sure you didn’t, sure you didn’t,” Fjorrod replied, also hiding a grin.
“Well come on, let’s go… What’s your name?”
“Fjorrod, Fjorrod’s my name. Now, like you were saying, no use staying around here. Let’s get going.”
As the sore Nord and the excited Khajiit got up and began walking down the road, Fjorrod realized something. He never bothered to learn Ulfric’s fate, the man either escaped, which would be good… or died, which would be very, very bad.
Author's Note: I know that he should have broken every bone in his body, and then some. Don't worry, he doesn't have titanium bones, all shall be explained in the next chapter.
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