Chapter 21: Gerdur
By seventeen, Gerdur had grown tall and lean, her arms and legs hardened not by brute strength, but by years moving silently through forests, of drawing her bowstring unti her fingertips split. She was quick, sure-footed, her footwork was elegant, almost like a dance, but with a deadly sting.
Ralof, her older brother, favored the sword and shield like any man of god—they sparred often—of course, it resulted in her defeat, but she was resilient.
She trained every day in the woods beyond Riverwood, where her parents used to take firewood to sell, timber to split, and woodwork to carve.
She stalked deer not to kill, but to learn patience. Her skills weren't forged in barracks, but in the thickets, the hills, and the dark. She became a ranger, her bow an extension of her will, and her mind was always scanning for the next threat. She hunted bandits—not for bounties, or fame, but retribution
So when Ulfric's Stormcloaks came calling, recruiting, promising war and glory, Ralof joined without hesitation.
Gerdur did not.
The Empire, the Sotrmcloaks—It was all the same to her. Incompetence, neither side did anything for the innocents, and both sides wanted the other one dead. She didn't care who sat on the throne. Her war was simpler: Yet more meaningful then any, a quiet one, against the scum that walked this mortal plane, the marauders, the ones who preyed on the weak.
She took contract as a sellsword, but only ones that let her keep hunting the scum that had once burned her life to the ground.
It wasn't long before her reputation caught the attention of Jarl Balgruuf.
A cave northeast of Whiterun had been overtaken by a vicious gang. It was of great importance to Balgruuf; it was a gold mine, at least soon to be. Gerdur was hired to join a four-person team tasked with retaking it. She was cautious, wary of others, but gave in after meeting the only other woman in the team, a mage, Kari.
But it wasn't long before the mission fell apart.
Her companions—loud, overconfident, and undermining the threat—were slaughtered in the opening skirmish. Gerdur moved like a shadow, but guilt made her visible to the prying eyes.
A dagger caught her side, Blood soaked her tunic. She fell back against the stone wall, cornered in a broken tower as footsteps closed in.
She shot one last arrow, teeth clenched—
And then lighting illuminated the cave, as screams echoed, not hers, a scene too familiar to her repeated in front of her.
Irileth.
The Dunmer warrior had changed little since the day she saved a young, starving Gerdur.
***
That night, Irileth escaped, supporting Gerdur on her left side. She no longer had any injury, healed by Irileth, and no scars remained, at least on the surface.
"What were you thinking?" Irileth said loudly, almost angrily, perhaps caring.
"I-I-I," Gerdur couldn't say anything, she should've escaped, even if it meant leaving Kari's corpse, headless, on the ground, the only thing in life important is self-preservation.
"You're chasing ghosts, Gerdur," Irileth said.
Gerdur's eyes widened as she sat down, her back leaning against a tree. "You remember me?" It wasn't a question, but amusement.
Irileth scoffed, "Hmph. How can I not? I've seen you train every time I pass through Riverwood. You're always there training with your brother."
"What else can I do?" Gerdur murmured, there was nothing of important than to take revenge, at least to her.
"How about living? For real this time," Irileth stood in front of her, her hand folded in front.
***
The road back to Riverwood was quiet, save for the rustle of wind in the pines and the distant murmur of the river. Gerdur walked slowly, her wound healed, her bow strapped across her back, a habit.
Three weeks had passed since Irileth saved her life for the second time. Three weeks of lying awake beneath a rented roof, her thoughts tangled in silence. She had hunted bandits for years, but she never once stopped to ask what she would do after.
Now she had her answer.
The wheel of the mill rotated with the flowing river's current
She arrived just before dusk. Hod was at the mill, sleeves rolled, arm thick with sawdust. He looked up as she approached and gave him a half smile.
"You're back," he said.
"I want to buy it back," she replied.
***
The night, she found the old deed of the Riverwood Mill—sold years ago to Hod's father after their parents' deaths left her and Ralof with nothing but grief and empty land. They were just children then, couldn't work it, couldn't keep it.
But now?
Now she could, she wanted to.
With the coin she'd saved from bounties and Ralof's earnings as a Stormcloak, Gerdur approached Hod the next day.
"Here," she said, sliding the bag of septims across the table.
Hod blinked. "Gerdur…"
"You've done right by it," she said, her voice calm. "But this was our home. Our family's work. I'm ready to take it back."
Hod didn't argue. Didn't haggle, just chuckled and nodded. "Then it's yours."
He stood up from the stool and left, "If you need help around here, just ask."
Days passed. The rhythm of the saw and wheel became second nature to her, just like the bow she had buried deep in the forest.
Hod helped her here in there, cutting firewood, telling her at what price to sell, and how to store it.
Then, one evening, just as the sun dipped below the treetops, Hod approached after finishing chopping wood.
"I've been meaning to say something," he said.
Gerdur raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"
"No. No, everything's fine, thanks to you." He hesitated. "It's just… I-I." He sighed, "I'd like to marry you, Gerdur."
Silence stretched between them.
Her heart didn't race, her breath didn't catch. Only calm clarity rose in her chest; perhaps a distance was created between them when Hod uttered those words.
"Hod," she said gently. "You're a good man. We've been friends since childhood. I'm not someone who can give you what you want."
He opened his mouth to speak, but she continued.
"I'd like for us to remain friends just like we were." She paused, looking away, toward the river, "I don't want anything else."
Hod held his gaze on her face for a moment, then gave a quiet nod.
"I understand."
****
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