'The third age is at an end' is what Martin said to me, all those years ago. And now, as I sit in my study, 30 years later, I realise how true those words were.
I remember, it was on the second day after the crisis came to an end. I was revered by all as a hero. I suppose I was. I saved them all and closed the Great Gate.
But the crisis had taken a lot out of me. After just one day of being the 'Champion of Cyrodiil', I became tired. For some inexplicable reason, I desperately wanted to go to Applewatch farm. With little else to do, I saddled up my horse, Gypsy, and rode out and over to the farm.
I had ridden past the farm many times, but I'd never had any reason to go in. This time, however, I tied Gypsy up outside, pushed open the old door, and entered.
It didn't take me long to realise how run down it had become since my last visit. The farm used to seem homely, well, from the outside at least.
Now, everything I'd ever thought about it had to be second guessed. It looked empty, it smelled musty and dust covered every surface in countless layers. I wondered for a moment whether it was a good idea to stay here.
But then my eyes fell on the bed. Unlike everything else, it looked warm and, almost, cared for. All the tiredness I had felt over the last few days caught up with me, and before I could think twice, I was wrapped up in the blankets, dreaming.
He spoke softly, softer than he had ever spoken to me before.
'The amulet is shattered. Dagon is defeated. With the dragon's blood and the amulet of kings, we have sealed the gates of Oblivion forever.
'The last of the Septim's passes now into history. I go gladly, for I know my sacrifice is not in vain. I take my place with my father and my father's fathers. The sands of times are constantly shifting. Do not begrudge them.
'The third has ended and a new age dawns. When the next Elder Scroll is written, you shall be the scribe. The shape of the future, the fate of the empire, these things now belong to you.'
I woke the next morning feeling as if the weight had been lifted from my shoulders, only to be replaced with a heavier one. I did not know how much of what he said to me in that dream was true- I don't think I ever will for sure- but I do not doubt that it was more than just a dream. I do not doubt that Martin had spoken to me. In some ethereal, almost magical way, he had.
As the years passed, things did begin to change. I cannot say whether this was directly linked to the fourth age beginning or not, because be the time I had noticed, things were already too different to say.
And, gradually, some degree of normality began to return to my life. I cannot say I went back to my old life- that would have been impossible. I was hailed as a hero by all, but more importantly, I had changed. My perspective on the world had shifted. I saw things in a different light. I second guessed all my choices, all my actions. Not out of fear, but simply because my emotional state was completely different. I wondered why I had ever done things, and why I had done them in a certain way.
I started doing odd adventuring jobs again to pay for my way in the world. I refused when anyone tried to give me things for free. It wasn't in my nature any more to take without earning.
It was on one of those odd adventuring jobs, five years after the crisis, that I ran into an old friend of mine. I had been in Chorrol for the week. Guilbert Jemane had also been visiting as well, and we met in the Oak and Crosier. Whilst there, we went out every night, growing closer. I cannot say exactly how that week made me feel, I only know that it still brings warm feelings to me whenever I think of it.
After that, we would try to see each other weekly, and we managed to most every weekend. It was easier for me to visit him in Weatherleah than for him to visit me in Skingrad. I would saddle up Gypsy every Saturday dawn and ride through the wilderness to him.
Two years after we met again, seven years after the crisis, Guilbert proposed to me. We married in a simple, but beautiful ceremony, that summer.
One year after our marriage, our first child was born. She was a beautiful girl, and we called her Jaina after Guilbert's mother. Verus followed soon after, named for my father, and two years after him, I gave birth to Hestra, who was named after my mother.
Then, I became pregnant with our fourth child. Guilbert had no recollection of his father, so could see no point in naming a child after him. We eventually decided on Luna, if it was a girl, but could not decide on one for a boy. We played around with names for the next nine months, but were still undecided when my due date came.
As I lay in bed after the birth, with people milling around doing whatever needed to be done, my son had no name.
My eyes suddenly locked with his. I felt as if I had looked into his pale blue eyes a thousand times before. Tears pricked at my eyes as I realised what to call him.
I called Guilbert over to ask him what he thought. He smiled as I whispered it into his ear, and nodded.
We named him Martin.