Chapter 4: Preperations

As we approach the gate of Riverwood, I turn to Daenerys and say, "You'll meet your first Bosmer here in Riverwood," I inform her.

"Really?" she asks, intrigued by the idea of meeting a race so different from what she's used to.

"Aye. Fendal, I believe his name is, if I recall correctly. He's the town's best hunter—catches deer and the like for the village."

"I shall be interested to meet him."

I nod and continue, "First, we'll meet the unofficial town leader—Ralof's sister. She'll ask us to inform the Jarl about the attack on Helgen. We'll stay a few days to prepare before setting out again. I need to sell all the armour, weapons, and general junk I've collected. I also think it best if we head to Bleak Falls Barrow before we go to Whiterun, but that might change if I feel we're not ready for such a quest."

"Didn't you mention that place was dangerous?"

"Aye, but we need to visit it after meeting the Jarl. I think it's better to handle it sooner rather than later."

Daenerys nods, albeit reluctantly, and we continue into Riverwood.

I immediately notice that Riverwood seems larger than I recall. Helgen probably was too, but I've never taken the time to appreciate its sights in the game. As usual, there's a cluster of houses amid lush greenery, but there are also many more houses—some in different shapes—not just the usual four walls, a roof, and a door. I estimate there must be around thirty houses in total. The island where the woodmill sits is larger than in the game.

I guide Daenerys to the woodmill, searching for Gerdur. We spot Fendal practising his archery, and I murmur to Daenerys, "This is the Bosmer I spoke of," before walking up to him. "Excuse me, friend. We're looking for the lady of this woodmill. Do you happen to know where she is?"

"Oh, greetings! Yes, Gerdur's just around the back, doing some paperwork. You can't miss her," he says with a smile, then returns to his practice.

I thank him and make my way to Gerdur.

We find a young blonde woman working at a bench—clearly Ralof's sister. We approach. "Hello, you must be Gerdur. Ralof told us about you."

"Ah, yes! My wayward brother mentioned you two last night. I can't thank you enough for helping him escape. Here's a key to the house. Stay as long as you like. If you need anything, just let me know. Any friend of Ralof's is a friend of mine," she says warmly.

I take the key and reply, "Thank you, we'll only stay a few days as we prepare for our journey onward."

"You wouldn't be heading north, would you? There's something you could do for me—and for all of us here."

I nod, already knowing where this is going.

"The Jarl needs to know if there's a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenseless…"

"We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun to send whatever troops he can. If you'll do that for me, I'll be in your debt."

"Aye, we can do that."

"Do you need directions to Whiterun?"

"Nay, I know the way. We'll see you tonight, Gerdur," I smile as we turn and leave.

As we cross back onto the mainland, I say to Daenerys, "Alright! First things first, we need to sell my stuff."

I find a cart to borrow for a single gold coin. We then take it elsewhere, and I dump most of my inventory, sorting through what I want to keep and sell. Afterwards, I head to the Blacksmith's.

After some haggling, I manage to strike a decent deal for the armour and weapons. I negotiate mostly for gold but also some iron and steel blocks, leather, and wood, along with permission to practice smithing at Alvor's forge.

Before I forge anything, we stop by the Riverwood Trader, where two people are arguing.

"Everything alright here?" I ask.

"Ah, a customer! No, everything's fine. We just lost a family heirloom," the man replies.

"It's not fine," the woman interjects, still frustrated, "And it wasn't lost, it was stolen."

"Oh no! What was stolen, if you don't mind me asking?" Daenerys inquires.

"It's fine. A golden statue of a dragon's foot with three symbols on the bottom," the woman explains, her voice softening at the sympathy.

"That's not a statue—it's a key," I inform them.

"Really?" the man asks. "A key to what?"

"Nordic burial grounds—places of worship to the dragon slayers. Like Bleak Falls." I explain.

"We've had the… key in our family for years," the woman says.

"We'll keep an eye out for the key and return it if we find it," Daenerys says, charming as always. Maybe Daenerys should do all the talking; she's likely already maxed out her Speech skill-tree.

"Oh! We would be so grateful," the woman says with a grateful smile.

I feel another quest activate in my mind, pointing to where I know it is.

"I'm Daenerys, and this is Ovhun. We're passing through and will be staying in this lovely little town for a few days."

"I'm Lucan Valerius, and this is my sister, Camilla," the man introduces himself.

"A pleasure," I reply.

"Great. Now, I'd like to sell and buy some of your wares," I change the subject back to matters of business.

"Wonderful!" says Lucan.

I hand over some of the things we don't need but are still valuable, negotiating the price. Before accepting any coin, I ask, "We're looking for cure potions, and I'd like to know if you have any spell tomes."

"Ah, we have those!" Lucan replies. "I'll gather all I have in stock, and you can take a look."

He scurries about, collecting items, before returning with a crate full of anti-venoms and spell tomes.

I pick out two cure potions and set them aside, while Daenerys looks through the tomes with interest.

"Okay, so he's got: Oakflesh, a minor armour improvement for a short time; Clairvoyance, which guides you to your goal destination, considering obstacles; Lesser Ward, a basic magic shield; Frostbite, the ice version of my fire spell, but it slows them down too; and Fury, which frightens off weak beasts and men. And let's ignore Raise Zombie—no need to insult the dead."

Lucan chuckles at my last point. "Yeah, I've had that tome for years, and no one's ever bought it."

Daenerys pauses, then asks, "What would you recommend, Ovhun?"

"I'd go with Lesser Ward. I was hoping for a healing spell for you, but a shield will do. Spell tomes are expensive, so we should only get one for now," I suggest.

"We'll take that then," Daenerys nods.

I hand over the gold, as the things we sold didn't quite cover it, and we leave with thanks.

We head to the Sleeping Giant Inn for lunch. I order a couple of meads and a plate of fruits, cheese, and meats to snack on.

Daenerys and I sit down to eat and talk. "Afterwards, I plan on using the forge to practice. Perhaps you'd like to sit and read, or maybe practice your magic?"

"Oh, that reminds me. I have the book I picked up in Helgen; you might enjoy reading it." I hand her The Book of the Dragonborn.

She takes it and smiles. "Thank you. Yes, I think I'll read while you tinker about at the forge."

"I think forging will prove useful for us in the future," I say, though most of the reason is that I think forging is cool. But I'll leave that part out.

"If you say so," she smiles.

"Afterwards, perhaps I can do some archery practice while you work on your spells? Or you can practice archery too," I offer.

Daenerys hums around her food and nods.

We finish our food and drink, then head back to the forge.

"Good timing," says Alvor with a nod. "I've only had a bit of busywork to do."

He explains how to make an iron dagger, and I gather the ingredients to make one myself. As I start, I slip into a kind of flow-state, crafting quickly and instinctively. It's as if I've jumped to a skill level where I already know what I'm doing, almost like muscle memory. Swordsmanship and even magic feel similar—I can do them instinctively, though I couldn't possibly teach the techniques to anyone else.

"Well done," Alvor says, inspecting the dagger with a raised brow. "Didn't expect you to finish it as fast as I would. You're a natural, kid." He adds with a grin, "It's nothing fancy, but it'll get the job done." His frankness, very Nord-like, is something I'm beginning to appreciate.

"Mind if I make some iron arrows next? They'll be more useful to me than a dagger."

"That's fine. Arrows are simple enough—just a small dagger-like piece you need to…" He explains the process, and I return to the forge to make a batch of five arrows.

As I finish, I feel a surge of energy. I know I've levelled up—a relief, as I'd hoped this work would help. Ignoring the feeling for now, I keep crafting arrows until I've made twenty in total.

"You're improving quickly," Alvor remarks. "The first few arrows might shatter upon impact with wood, but by the twentieth, they'll hold up better–might even last until a resharpening. About as good as an iron arrow can be."

"Thanks for all your help, Alvor. Mind if I come back tomorrow around the same time?"

"That works for me," he says, pleased. "Looks like you're out of iron now. I'll hold off on any ironwork, and you can use my ingots." It's clear he's glad to have someone to take on the less exciting tasks.

I nod, then call Daenerys out of her reading. She's been absorbed in the Sparks spell tome, and now, she's moved on to reading about the Dragonborn.

We head over to Faendal's training area by the wood mill, where we find a target set up on a hay bale alongside a practice dummy.

"Hello again! How can I help you?" Faendal greets us, standing by the wood chopping station, with a welcoming smile.

"Greetings. I'm Daenerys, and this is my friend, Ovhun. We were hoping to get in some target practice, if that's alright," Daenerys says politely.

"Faendal, at your service." He bows slightly, and I realise I'd mistaken the elven pronunciation. "You're welcome to train here as much as you like. Let me know if you need any help."

Daenerys and I set up about fifteen meters from the target, arrows ready. I fire first, hitting the target but nowhere near the centre. Daenerys's arrow lands just outside the target, and she lets out a frustrated sigh.

We fill the target with arrows, each of us improving a bit with every shot. Faendal stops by to give Daenerys pointers. For me, though, it's clear I'll need a real combat situation to make much progress.

When we tire of archery, we move to an open clearing for Daenerys to practice her magic. I sit down to meditate, focusing on my levelling. I manage to direct this new energy to boost my Stamina. In my mind's eye, I can even see the skill trees. After some thought, I decide to put my skill point into one-handed combat instead of smithing, planning to work on smithing later in Whiterun.

I emerge from my meditation to find Daenerys firing a steady stream of weak lightning bolts at the ground.

"Well done, Dany!" I call. "I'm no expert, but you have to be ahead of most novices."

She smiles, clearly proud, though she admits, "I'm not sure if I could actually use it on someone."

"I get it. That would be… painful. I don't think I could use fire on a person, either. Maybe to scare someone off, but only in a tight spot." I nod in agreement.

Daenerys nods, thoughtful. "What kind of enemies are we expecting?"

"A few bandits outside Bleak Falls, but nothing human once we're inside."

"Oh?" She raises an eyebrow. "Then what can we expect?"

"Frost spiders—one of them a giant one if I recall correctly."

"Giant?" She looks horrified. "Aren't they all giant?!"

I laugh. "True enough. But this one's a mother spider. She'll give me a reason to use fire."

She sighs at my casual tone. I continue, more serious now, "After the spiders, we'll face Draugr."

"Draugr?"

"Think skeletal wights, but armed and armoured."

Her eyes widen. "Like skeletal wights? Do we need dragonglass?"

"No, just a few good hits will take them down. They're better fighters than the wights you've faced, but they're not as durable. And they won't come at us in swarms—just a few at a time, in each room." I try to reassure her.

She looks a bit calmer, then doubles down on her spell practice, focused on preparing for what lies ahead.

After a while, she starts to struggle, her progress slowing. I suggest she try casting without gestures or incantations. Her attempts falter at first, and frustration threatens to set in.

"You're doing great!" I encourage her. "It's normal to have setbacks when you go without the aides."

Taking a deep breath, she tries again, this time managing to summon a weak bolt of lightning without the aides. The success renews her determination, and soon enough, she's casting with reliable force. I congratulate her, suggesting she next work on Lesser Ward, hoping she'll have it mastered by the time we reach Bleak Falls Barrow. She nods and pulls out a restoration tome, eager to learn more.

As the sun begins to set, we head to Gerdur's house.

There's not much to recount from that evening. We find Ralof and meet Gerdur's husband. Daenerys and I each take turns bathing—a welcome relief—and settle down for dinner with the family. Daenerys quickly bonds with Gerdur, chatting about Nordic hairstyles and local customs, while Ralof talks my ear off about joining Ulfric's rebellion. I make vague noises of interest, but mostly, the evening passes uneventfully, and soon we're all heading to bed.

The next day is straightforward enough. Daenerys spends most of it following Gerdur around, helping with chores and meeting people. Meanwhile, I join Faendal for a hunting trip, where I manage to bag a deer and two wolves. He teaches me how to dress a carcass, and I keep the hide for myself, leaving the meat with the local butcher and waving off any payment. Back at the blacksmith's, I take on some iron smithing work for Alvor, improving my skills at the forge. Once I'm finished, I ask him to help turn the hide into something wearable. By the end of the day, the piece is taking shape, and I leave it with Alvor to be completed tomorrow.

Later, I meet up with Daenerys for more archery practice. I also start working on throwing daggers—just for fun. Faendal offers tips here and there, free of charge. Usually, we'd pay for such lessons, though his advice doesn't do much for me at my current skill level. Perhaps if I paid him, he'd take it more seriously, and I'd level at a more rapid pace. Faendal, however, seems distracted when Camilla from the Riverwood Trader stops by to speak with Gerdur.

"Someone's smitten," I remark with a grin.

Daenerys glances over, curious. "What did I miss?"

"Faendal couldn't take his eyes off Camilla," I reply, shooting him a wicked smile. Faendal sputters, caught off guard, and tries to deny it.

Daenerys gives him a mischievous smile. "Are you courting the lady, Faendal?"

"Not that she's noticed," he mutters, looking slightly annoyed. "Both Sven the Bard and I have been vying for her affections, but she doesn't seem interested in either of us. Sven, of course, has his pretty little songs to help him out." He scowls at the thought.

"You know, Faendal," I say, getting his full attention, "Camilla's family recently had an artefact stolen from them."

Faendal's brows knit together, and he nods, acknowledging the rumour. "Aye, I know of it, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Think about it. You could win her attention, maybe even her affection, by returning something of great value to her."

Faendal seems interested but wary. "And just where would I find it?"

"I know where it is," I assure him. "Daenerys and I are planning a quest to Bleak Falls Barrow, and I'm certain we'll find Camilla's Golden Claw there. We'd appreciate your company, and you could return the claw to her yourself."

Faendal hesitates, teetering on the edge of a decision. I glance at Daenerys, silently urging her to seal the deal with her persuasive charm.

"I'd really appreciate you joining us on this quest, Faendal," she says, her tone both earnest and persuasive. "I don't think I can keep Ovhun safe on my own if things get rough." Her word simple, yet the delivery is flawless, as usual. I marvel at her charisma, knowing my own gruff appearance would never yield such results with that style of charm.

Faendal sighs, visibly swayed. "Fine, I'll join you. When do we leave?"

I smile, grateful. "Day after tomorrow, bright and early.

"If we leave at first light, we should reach Bleak Falls by nightfall, right?" I ask, confirming.

"Aye. It'll be getting dark by then, but we'll make it," he agrees.

"That works for me."

We finish our archery training, and Daenerys shifts her focus to practising magic.

She works on her *Lesser Ward*, using training wheels to stabilise the spell. Soon, a small shield flickers to life before her—a promising sign. She'll be well-prepared by the time we reach Bleak Falls.

In between casting, she turns to me as she waits for her magicka to recharge. "I saw what you did there with Faendal. You'd been planning this since before we met him, hadn't you?"

"Was I that obvious?" I ask, surprised. She might be sharper at reading people than I realised. After all, she managed to catch on to two traitors back in her world. She missed Jon, but that was certainly a blind-spot, and Arya is Arya.

"To me, yes."

"You're right," I admit. "I feel much more confident in our chances at Bleak Falls with him by our side."

"You weren't confident before?" she asks, a little taken aback.

"I think we would've managed, but it would've been a rougher fight, we would have had to make liberal use of healing spells and potions." I say with a shrug.

"Good to know," she says, then returns to practising.

As she continues, I take the opportunity to whittle a small piece of wood with a dagger I'd made, shaping it into something resembling a dragon.

"Tell me about the gods of this land, Ovhun," she says in that tone of hers—firm yet somehow gentle. It's more a demand than a request, but her gentle tone takes all the edge off of it.

"The gods here are the 'original spirits' of the realm," I begin. "They're divided into two groups: the Aedra—'our ancestors' in Aldmeri—and the Daedra, or 'not our ancestors.' Think of them as gods and demons, more or less."

I go on, listing the Aedra, who are also known as the Nine Divines—sometimes Eight, depending on who you ask. "There's Akatosh, the God of Time and chief of the Divines; Arkay, the God of Life and Death; Dibella, the Goddess of Beauty; Julianos, the God of Wisdom; Kynareth, the Goddess of Air and the Elements; Mara, the Mother Goddess; Stendarr, the God of Justice and Mercy; Zenithar, the God of Work and Commerce; and finally Talos, the Hero-God of Mankind.

"Talos was mortal once," I add. "Known as Tiber Septim the emperor of Tamriel before he ascended to divinity. The Thalmor and many mer refuse to acknowledge him as divine."

"You sound like a believer," she notes, watching me closely.

"Aye," I say with a shrug. "Unlike where you're from, or especially my world, there's clear evidence of their presence here. Not that long ago, the Daedra tried to invade and destroy the world. It's known as the Oblivion Crisis, and it's only because of the gods' intervention that Nirn survived."

"Fascinating. Are there no gods where you're from?" she asks, curiosity glinting in her eyes.

"I don't know. If they exist, they're quiet—or extremely subtle."

She considers this. "In my world, the gods might be nothing more than magic in disguise," she muses aloud.

"Well, magic itself is a kind of higher power," I point out. "In my home world, there's no sign of magic at all."

"Really?" Her eyes widen. "Sounds… peaceful."

"Boring, you mean." I chuckle. "The chaos of magic can be exhilarating." After a moment, I add, "You might not think so… my world is advanced in ways yours and this one can't imagine. It's a Maester's dream—magic replaced by hard science. Who needs dragons when we've got aircraft that can outpace them, or weapons that make dragon fire look like a campfire?"

Daenerys stares at me, struggling to process the idea. I shrug and go back to whittling, letting her absorb the thought.

Later that night, we settle into our usual routine, though this time Ralof has left, eager to rejoin his fight, sparing me from any more of his hero worship of Ulfric.

The next morning, I stock up on supplies—mostly vegetables and fruits, figuring we can catch our own meat. I stop by Advar's early to pick up the finished hide, then take it to a seamstress he recommended to have it made into clothing. After that, I return to the forge to work more on my smithing. Here, I level up again, and I immediately improve my health and skill in one-handed combat. I feel the knowledge sink in, guiding me on how to strike with even greater precision and strength.

When I'm done, I thank Advar for letting me use his forge and for his guidance. Just as I'm about to leave, he says, "Can't just pay you in work experience, lad. Take this." He hands me a steel hand-and-a-half sword—a simple yet beautifully crafted weapon from his collection.

"Thank you, Advar," I say sincerely, hefting the sword in admiration.

"You've a talent, kid–I look forward to seeing what you make. I'm sure I'll see you around, Ovhun." He gives me a nod before heading back to work.

I strap the new sword to my waist, stowing my old one in my inventory, then meet up with Daenerys and Faendal for another round of training at the mill.

"Where are we meeting tomorrow?" Faendal asks, pausing for a moment between shots.

"The gate north of town, near the inn," I reply after a moment of thought.

He nods and returns to his practice, confident in what he needs to bring for the journey–this isn't his first expedition.

Daenerys and I finish up our archery, and she moves on to magic training while I sit nearby, watching and thinking over the day's preparations. At one point, I stop her, pulling something from my inventory and holding it out to her.

"I had this made for you. We'll be travelling to some very cold places, and this should keep you warm."

It's a black coat made primarily of wolf fur, with accents of red. It's not a perfect fit since I didn't have her measurements, but it will cover her hands and provide plenty of warmth.

Daenerys looks surprised as she takes it, slipping it over her robes. "Thank you, Ovhun!" she says, genuine appreciation in her voice.

I nod. It's no grand gesture—I'd rather not see her freeze to death. And it might even spare me some complaints about the cold, as I assume she'd not appreciate my response to warm her up by bathing her in the flame spell.

I also hand her a pair of fur boots, similar to ugg boots, with a wooden base and soft leather layers. The inner sole is lined with wolf fur, making them both warm and comfortable.

She slips them on, smiling in delight. "These are wonderful, thank you."

I settle back down and continue whittling my small wooden dragon, carving out scales and other details as I think over tomorrow's journey. Meanwhile, Daenerys practices her lightning spell, almost mastering it now. Her Lesser Ward is also coming along well; she's beginning to try casting it without gestures or words, and it seems she'll have it ready by the time we reach Bleak Falls.

During a break in her practice, she turns to me. "Can you tell me more about the different branches of magic? The spell tomes I've read only touch on them briefly."

"I'm no expert, but I'll tell you what I know." I pause, organising my thoughts. "To my knowledge, there are five main branches of spellcasting." I add quickly, "That's not including Alchemy or Enchanting, of course."

"First, there's Destruction, which focuses on offensive spells. It uses elemental forces, with sub-branches of frost, fire, and shock. I'm sure you're familiar with this already."

Daenerys nods in agreement, a spark of understanding in her gaze.

"Then there's Restoration, focused on healing and defensive spells. It also includes spells that repel the undead and, in some cases, offensive spells specifically effective against them."

She nods, taking it in.

"Conjuration is next. This branch lets the caster summon weapons and creatures, often from the planes of Oblivion—the realm of the Daedra. Though, not all Conjuration magic is Daedric; for example, Necromancy is a sub-branch of Conjuration."

Her brows rise slightly, uncomfortable with the darker aspects of conjuring.

"Alteration is about altering the physical world. It's probably the most versatile branch—ranging from spells that create magical armour to those that transmute materials or paralyse opponents. Its uses are broad."

Daenerys seems intrigued, finding this branch's applications practical and wide-ranging.

"Finally, there's Illusion, which manipulates the mind. It's an underestimated branch, but it lets you instil fear, calm, or even fury in others. You can also make yourself invisible or strengthen your allies' resolve."

She nods thoughtfully, interested in the potential of illusion spells.

"And that's about it for the major branches," I conclude. "There's also Enchanting and Alchemy, but they aren't exactly spellcasting disciplines. Any questions?"

She thinks it over. "Conjuration seems… dubious. Are there any other forms of magic I should be cautious about?"

I consider it. "Enchanting, maybe. Though, it depends on how it's used. It's not inherently harmful, but it does involve soul gems—crystals that trap souls. The act of soul trapping itself is a Conjuration spell."

She looks disturbed at the thought, so I clarify, "Once a soul gem is used, the soul moves on. It doesn't linger in the item forever. Enchanting would be outlawed otherwise. But capturing a sentient soul—like that of a human—requires a black soul gem. That process is illegal in most places, as the soul remains conscious in the gem. Enchanting with an animal soul, on the other hand, is considered more acceptable."

"So people use animal souls to enchant weapons?" she asks, thinking it through.

"Aye. Weapons, armour, jewellery—anything. Think of it like making full use of the animal. You take the meat to eat, use the hide for clothing, and the soul for one last purpose. In that sense, it's similar to tanning leather."

She nods, though her face shows she's still processing this idea, then turns back to her practice.

Later that evening, Gerdur and her husband put on a small feast in our honour, a farewell gesture for Daenerys and me.

The next morning, I wake Daenerys early—earlier than she'd like, judging by her groans. With my newfound control over sleep, I don't mind the responsibility.

We pack our things and head to the meeting point, where Faendal is already waiting, checking over his bow and arrows. He hears us approach and looks up.

"Ah! Good morning, you two. Are you both ready?"

"Good morning," Daenerys replies around a yawn. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"Aye, morning, Faendal," I say, nodding. "Looking forward to it—though maybe not the bandits."

The bandits should be manageable if we take them in small groups, as I plan. But dealing with people that get in our way is still a grim necessity—never something I look forward to.