1 First chapter

Skyrim opens with an Imperial wagon driving four prisoners down a snowy

mountain pass. All are seated and bound; the one dressed in finery is gagged.]

Ralof: Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border,

right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that

thief over there.

Lokir: Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was

nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen

that horse and been half way to Hammerfell. You there. You and me -- we

should be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.

Ralof: We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.

Imperial Soldier: Shut up back there!

[Lokir looks at the gagged man.]

Lokir: And what's wrong with him?

Ralof: Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High

King.

Lokir: Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if

they captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us?

Ralof: I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits.

Lokir: No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening.

Ralof: Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?

Lokir: Why do you care?

Ralof: A Nord's last thoughts should be of home.

Lokir: Rorikstead. I'm...I'm from Rorikstead.

[They approach the village of Helgen. A soldier calls out to the lead wagon.]

Imperial Soldier: General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!

General Tullius: Good. Let's get this over with.

Lokir: Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me.

Ralof: Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like

the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do

with this.

This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod

is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny...when I

was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.

[A man and son watch the prisoners pull into town.]

Haming: Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?

Torolf: You need to go inside, little cub.

Haming: Why? I want to watch the soldiers.

Torolf: Inside the house. Now.