The two made their way toward Riverwood, walking down the path that led there. After passing the sharp turn, they walked straight toward the Guardian Stones, where Hadvar stopped Vaenyr.
"These are the Guardian Stones, three of the thirteen ancient standing stones that dot Skyrim's landscape. People say you can be blessed by the gods when you lay hands on one, but that might be a myth. Why don't you try?"
He says the last part with a slightly sarcastic tone, motioning for him to attempt it. Vaenyr rolls his eyes, stepping toward the large stones with a smirk, placing his hand on the slightly cold rock he identifies as the Warrior Stone. Hadvar watches him with a small grin, laughing as nothing happens.
"Yeah, I didn't really believe in it either. Let's get going."
He starts to walk off down the remaining mountain, leaving Vaenyr alone at the stones. Letting go of the stone, Vaenyr tries to step away, only to suddenly be frozen in place, along with everything around him. Insects, birds, even Hadvar, a few meters away by now, freeze in place. Out of nowhere, a loud voice resounds, booming telepathically into his head.
"Kendovse-kogaan, Dovah-kiin."
After the words resound through the valley, everything unfreezes again, as if nothing happened. Shaking his head slightly, Vaenyr follows the Imperial soldier, walking beside him again. The man still has a grin on his face, seemingly unaware that time had frozen just moments ago, nor does he seem to have heard the words spoken to Vaenyr.
"Sorry, but my uncle did the same to me when I was a young boy."
Vaenyr chuckles and gives the man a light punch on the shoulder.
"Nah, don't worry; it's fine. No harm done, right?"
The man's mouth twists slightly in pain as he rubs his shoulder.
"Well, you did just harm me, right? You could have held back a little, you know?"
As Vaenyr is about to apologize, the man laughs again, punching his shoulder in retaliation. Hadvar's laughter is cut short by a light wince that escapes him, as he grabs his burned arm and presses it against the cold metal of his armor.
"Ah, don't worry; I am fine. Let's hurry up a bit; I am getting hungry, and these burns aren't getting any better by themselves."
Hurrying along, the two take the last few steps down to the river, where Hadvar holds his burned arm in the water for a few seconds, then they continue to jog along the path toward Riverwood. Vaenyr can see the village along the river, only a short distance away, as a howl resounds through the forest around them. Hadvar's hand instantly wraps around the hilt of his sword as a trio of wolves jump from the small elevation to their right, their mouths wide open, trying to bite into Vaenyr's arm.
Luckily for him, the wolf bites down on his vambrace, its jaws snapping against the metal plate, unable to bite him. He grabs the wolf's head, slamming it against the vambrace; the wolf's upper jaw breaks under the force, his hand crushing the animal's skull. At the same time, Hadvar dodges to the side, his blade slicing one of the two wolves' front legs off, blood covering the ground as the wolf tumbles into the river. The third wolf lets out another howl, then flees, running back into the forest.
The two stand there for a moment, Vaenyr picking bone fragments out of his hand, while Hadvar cleans his blade on the fur of the corpse on the ground. After following Hadvar's example and wiping his hand on the fur, the two continue on their way, arriving in Riverwood after another minute or so of walking.
Stepping through the small gate of the partially built wall around the village, Hadvar quickly calls out to his uncle, who is standing at the forge of the smithy before them. "Uncle Alvor? It's me, Hadvar."
The man standing over the forge looks up, a smile appearing on his face as he spots his nephew. He sets down the tongs held in his hand, walking away from the forge to the front of his house, motioning for the pair to come closer. "Hadvar, what a surprise. Come on in; Sigrid should be finished with dinner about now anyway. Who is your friend?"
Hadvar chuckles and steps up the small stairway to his uncle's house, giving the man a brotherly hug, then points to Vaenyr. "This is Vaenyr, a Breton who helped me survive at Helgen. We should get inside; my shoulder is burned, and I could really use some food."
Alvor looks down at Hadvar's arm, then at Vaenyr, before nodding and opening the door for the two of them. "Well, get inside; I have to extinguish the forge first."
Giving his uncle a thankful nod, Hadvar walks in, with Vaenyr following right after him, stepping into the house. Inside, a woman stands at a pot over the stove, stirring its contents, while a young girl sits at the table, seemingly waiting for her mother to finish cooking.
The moment the child notices Hadvar, she calls out with a joyful smile on her face. "Hadvar? Papa didn't tell us you would come to visit."
The woman, hearing her child call out, turns around, spotting the two. She freezes for a moment, blushing softly at Vaenyr, before shaking off her stupor and noticing Hadvar's burned arm. "Ah, Gods, Hadvar, what happened to your arm? Come here quickly; we need to treat it."
She turns to one of the shelves behind her, looking through a few of the items lying on it, before grabbing a yellow flower and a cloth, pushing Hadvar down onto one of the chairs and rubbing the flower over his arm. The man groans slightly, his face displaying a blissful smile, before he lets out another groan, this time one of pain, as the woman ties the cloth around his arm.
"Ah, damn, could you be a bit more careful, Sigrid? This still hurts like..."
Hadvar bites his lip, holding back the swear he was about to throw at Sigrid. The woman glares at him before returning her attention to her pot, checking on the stew inside.
"Don't get burned then, Hadvar. Now, who is your friend?"
At the table, Dorthe jumps up, walking over to Hadvar and looking at his arm.
"How did you get burned so badly, Hadvar? Did you reach into the forge?"
At that moment, the door behind Vaenyr opens again, with Alvor stepping through and closing it behind him.
"Well, not our forge at least. But, you said you were in Helgen, right? They don't have a smith up there, so what happened?"
Hadvar chuckles, grabbing a piece of bread from the table and biting into it with a smirk.
"Well, to answer Sigrid's question first, my handsome friend here is Vaenyr, a Breton I met at Helgen."
Nodding, Vaenyr speaks up, answering Dorthe and Alvor's question.
"We were attacked by a dragon."
Everybody except for Hadvar turns to him, Sigrid dropping her ladle into the pot. The two adults look at both men in shock, a shimmer of fear in their eyes, while Dorthe has an excited expression on her face.
"A dragon? Like in the legends?"
Sigrid shakes off her shock, picking the ladle out from the pot before grabbing a bowl and filling it. She walks over to her husband, handing him the bowl before turning to Hadvar.
"Your friend is joking, right? There's no way dragons are alive, right?"
Alvor sits down at the table, taking a spoon and eating some stew from his bowl before turning to his wife.
"He might not be. I did see something large fly over town earlier, and old Hilde did say she saw a dragon."
With a sigh, Hadvar speaks up, taking a bowl of stew from Sigrid.
"Old Hilde is right. While we were at Helgen, a large dragon showed up. He destroyed the entire village, and he nearly got me too. Vaenyr and I barely managed to get into the keep before we were eaten."
Being offered a bowl by Sigrid too, Vaenyr takes it and grabs one of the spoons, tasting some. To his own surprise, he can identify every ingredient in the stew with ease, except for two that he doesn't know the names of.
"Wow, this is some great stew; thank you."
Sigrid blushes again, then sits down next to her husband and grabs a piece of bread, dunking it into her own bowl of stew. Alvor looks back at Hadvar, then turns to Vaenyr.
"We have to warn Jarl Balgruuf. If the dragon is real, as you say, it might attack Whiterun next."
Already aware of what Alvor will ask him next, Vaenyr lifts his hand, motioning for the man to be quiet.
"Don't ask; I will go. But I would appreciate it if you could give me a new sword."
The blacksmith nods and stands up, walking towards the door again.
"Fine, come along. I should have some good stuff lying around."
Vaenyr quickly finishes his stew, then gives a quick thank you to the three inside before following the man outside, stepping up to the forge with him. There, Alvor grabs a sword from the table, holding it out to him.
"Here, try this one."
He takes the sword from Alvor, stepping back to give it a few test swings, switching hands a few times before nodding to the smith.
"It's quite good. But do you have a second? Just as backup if this one gets too damaged."
Alvor looks at him with raised eyebrows but turns back to his table, grabbing a second sword and handing it to him.
"Sure, take it. Now you should get going; the night will set in an hour or so. It's not far to Whiterun, but you should not travel there in the dark."
With another nod, Vaenyr takes two sheaths for the swords, hanging them on either side of his hip, then turns back to Alvor.
"Well, stay safe, Alvor. And thank you."
Grinning, Alvor gives him a slight push back, then motions for him to go.
"Happy to help. Now, get going!"
Giving the man another thankful nod, Vaenyr starts to walk off, jogging through the small gate on the other side of the village and over the bridge that crosses the river. As he is about to turn right toward Whiterun, he stops, looking up the mountain path to Bleak Falls Barrow before deciding that Whiterun can wait another day or so.
Vaenyr begins to move up the mountain path, taking the first two turns before he feels his hair stand on end, warning him of another trio of wolves trying to ambush him. However, now equipped with new weapons and alone, Vaenyr feels much less threatened than last time. He grasps the handle of one of the swords, pulling it free and cutting the first of the three wolves in half in a single smooth motion. Concentrating on the fight, he feels his entire body heat up in excitement; time slows slightly again, and his eyes can perfectly follow the next wolf rushing at him, even able to count the hairs in its fur with ease.
His blade strikes out, the second wolf having its head and back sliced off, before Vaenyr takes a step towards the third wolf, grabbing the animal's head and pulling the beast into the air. The wolf whines, before being cut in half by another slash. Dropping the corpse, Vaenyr shakes the blood off his sword, then takes a quick look at it. Despite the blade being of surprisingly high quality, it starts to chip already, the force his body was able to exert being a bit beyond his control.
Still thinking about how strong his body really is now, he continues up the path, quickly spotting the old watchtower. Leaning against a larger rock in front of the building is a Dummer, dressed in hide and leather, with an axe on his belt. Cracking his neck, Vaenyr gets ready to rush at the mer, grabbing the handle of his blade again and leaning forward. The moment the bandit notices him approach, he tries to call out, but less than a second later, his neck spews a shower of blood. To Vaenyr's left, the Dummer's friend notices him, pulling up his bow and firing a shot; the arrow whirrs through the air and lands in Vaenyr's hand. Crushing the arrow, he walks towards the archer with a grin, easily catching a second arrow before grabbing the man's face and smiling at him.
"Bad news, you're dead."
The archer looks down, blood flowing from his mouth as he watches Vaenyr's blade being pulled from his chest. He looks back up with a fearful expression before falling to the side, down the mountain. Vaenyr watches the corpse explode on one of the sharp stones below, then raises his blade, catching the large two-handed axe of the third and last bandit with ease. He looks back up, glaring right into the slit of the man's helmet, before grabbing his neck and crushing the man's throat.