It was already night when Simon came down from the mountain to Ivarstead. It was a beautiful day; the night sky was clear, the stars were brilliant, and the two moons, both half-moons, displayed their majestic forms, clearly showing the lunar maria and craters.
Faint, fish-scale clouds were sparsely distributed across the sky in the southeast, northwest, and northeast. Looking back at the sky above High Hrothgar, the Milky Way and clouds merged, creating a captivating, violet crystal glow.
It had snowed two days prior, leaving a thin layer on the ground. Guards patrolled with torches. The river from Lake Geir wound around the village, its water clear and bright. From a distance, the snow-covered thatched roofs looked like little blankets on the houses, and the entire Ivarstead seemed to sleep peacefully by warm little bonfires. In the distance, the rustling sound of a mill grinding wheat could be heard; it was the owner of the Falling Star Farm bustling about. This was the last batch of wheat for the year, and after this, everyone would begin to hunker down for winter.
Overall, this town was quite vibrant, and its people lived in peace and contentment.
Simon planned to stay a night at the Drunken Huntsman Inn. When he arrived, the inn was quiet and deserted; no pilgrims had come, the fire in the hearth was almost out, and the room was a bit cold. The owner and his wife were yawning, reclining in chairs behind the counter, while a very young girl sat in her mother's arms, playing with her fingers.
Simon asked for a room. The owner opened his sleepy eyes wide, "Oh, of course, five silver coins will do. Stranger, are you here on a pilgrimage?"
"More or less."
"You'd best leave early."
"Why?"
"Winter is coming, and there are Draugr in the Frolid Cavern over there. I advise you not to go near it; finish your business and leave quickly."
"Cavern?"
"Yes, you know Skyrim is full of these tombs. Those Draugr aren't quiet; definitely don't go there. Many self-proclaimed treasure hunters used to come to town asking about it, and they all died!"
"It seems like a very dangerous place."
"Indeed. If it weren't for this cavern, I dare say our little town would be five times more prosperous than it is now!"
Simon nodded in agreement, then asked, "Have you heard of a woman named Jia'erna Drinks-Blood? She should be from the town of Ivarstead."
The owner was startled and said nothing. The proprietress next to him frowned, "What do you want with her? She hasn't been here for a long time."
"Oh, you know her?"
The proprietress laughed heartily, "Hah! She and I used to be good friends! This girl always said the town was too quiet and she wanted to go out and see the world. People always say that, but so few actually do it! She's a good one!"
"I am Gaelina's... friend. Could you tell me where her former residence was?"
"What do you want to do? There's nothing in her house; she sold everything for money. You won't find anything if you go."
Simon thought for a moment, then pulled out five Septim gold coins. "Please satisfy my curiosity."
The owner's eyes lit up, and with a swift grab, he pocketed the five gleaming Septims. The proprietress slapped his arm, shook her head helplessly, then pulled out a key and handed it to Simon. "Alright, her house is the third one south of the farm, the one with lavender planted in front."
Simon took the key, not rushing to explore his mother's house, but instead continuing to inquire about her past.
From the proprietress's account, Gaelina was a wild and untamed girl from a young age. Her father went to the Great War when she was young and never returned. When she was eight, her mother was killed by a bear in the mountains. She then lived with her grandmother, but when she was fourteen, her grandmother also died of illness, leaving her alone in the world to survive.
The proprietress also mentioned the Frolid Cavern, saying that Gaelina once took several children her age to explore it. Although they returned without incident, Draugr became frequently active after that day, as if those mischievous kids had stirred up the ferocity of the undead in the ancient tomb.
Travelers and villagers were harassed by Draugr, finding little peace. The town's Guards were willing but powerless to help, only able to restrain residents, and the Jarl of The Rift City was slow to send troops, so the problem persisted. Gaelina was identified as the culprit and was subsequently ostracized by the townspeople. Aside from a few close friends, no one would speak to her, and to get food, she had to hunt in the mountains herself.
Everyone thought she would die by a beast's kiss like her mother, but she survived, grew up, and even supported her grandmother, developing impressive combat skills and beast-like instincts. At fifteen, unburdened by attachments, she left Ivarstead to travel Skyrim.
Listening to the proprietress's narration, Simon couldn't help but sigh, a wave of bitterness followed by a pang of sorrow.
"I will go to the Frolid Cavern. The debt Gaelina owes you, I will repay for her!" After saying this, the Troll turned and left, not resting in the room, but heading straight for the ancient tomb. The owner and his wife couldn't stop him and could only let him go.
The Frolid Cavern was only a few hundred steps from the town, located on a slope. The entrance was a stone shelter similar to the Wolf Pack Resting Place. The circular corridor was lined with many iron coffins, most of their lids missing, exposing the dry bones to the air.
Pushing the door into the ancient tomb, it was dim inside. Upon entering, there was a downward wooden spiral staircase, and the sound of dripping water was incessant. A strong, damp, musty smell assailed his nose.
Upon reaching the burial area, in the gloomy passage, Simon lit a candlelight spell. Under the white light, deep alcoves in the walls were filled with skeletons. To his right was an iron gate, with a staircase leading deeper. An armored Draugr was lurking behind the gate. It seemed someone had closed the gate, preventing these mindless undead from wandering freely.
Simon grinned, knowing it was a mechanism door, but he had no intention of finding the mechanism. He grabbed the iron bars with both hands and tore forcefully, the metal twisting and deforming under immense power, emitting a groaning tremor.
The door was ripped off. The Draugr raised its two-handed greatsword and brought it down, striking the door frame. The recoil force pushed it back a few steps.
The Troll threw a punch, his pale golden palm harder than steel, piercing the Draugr's tough, wood-like withered skin, breaking its porous ribs, gripping its spine. With an upward kick to its jaw and a downward press of his hand, with a bang, the Draugr's head, unable to withstand the pulling force, detached from its neck and flew high, the eerie blue ghost fire in its eyes extinguishing in an instant.
Simon took out an enchanted soul trap hooked hand-axe, intending to collect all these unwilling spirits.
Continuing deeper, Simon arrived at a wide corridor. The walls on both sides were adorned with relief carvings of the Nordic Pantheon. At the end was a riddle door, requiring a Dragon Claw to open. At this time, the door stone had already fallen.
After dealing with the scattered spirits in the passage, Simon found a line of small text on the ground by the door: "Jia'erna Drinks-Blood and companions Tataro the Wise, Isaac the Bush-Shirt, Gavin Night-Cry, Nestor Goodchild came here, opened the ancient seal, and history will remember our great adventure."
Simon smiled knowingly.
Beyond this door was the main body of the Frolid Cavern: countless Draugr, winding paths, a gloomy environment, scattered gold coins, gems, and treasure chests, waiting to be unearthed amidst dust and traps.
The Troll raised his hand-axe high. In the clear candlelight, the axe blade gleamed with a cold light, and in its flickering, a withered skull flew high.
As long as all the Draugr in this ancient tomb were dealt with, then his mother's debt would be repaid!
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