As you approached the quaint town of Riverwood, nestled amidst the towering pines of Skyrim's forested landscape, a sense of tranquility washed over you. But the memory of Helgen still lingered fresh in your mind. Just hours ago, you were captured and bound for execution by the Empire, only to narrowly escape the jaws of a dragon's fiery breath.

By your side was Ralof, a Stormcloak soldier destined for the same fate who had aided in your escape. His voice was confident but distant as he spoke, reliving the attack just as much as you were. “My little sister, Gerdur, owns the mill down in Riverwood. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind helping us out for the moment.”

Smoke rose from the chimneys of cozy cottages, their thatched roofs blending seamlessly with the natural surroundings. The gentle sound of rushing water filled the air as you caught sight of the lumber mill, its wooden wheel turning lazily in the stream.

As you entered the town, Ralof turned to you with a warm smile, his blue eyes reflecting the flickering light of a nearby forge. “Welcome to Riverwood,” he spoke softly, his voice filled with a sense of homecoming. “It may not be much, but it's a safe haven in these troubled times.”