He was trapped, trapped in a room with stone walls and no door. Madly he looked about, hoping for some sort of exit. A door, a window, or even a small crack in the walls he could try and dig out; anything that could possibly lead to freedom, but there was nothing. Only a small wooden table, a chair, and a bed of straw occupied the room, lit dimly by one lone torch. Frustrated, the man lay down on the bed, and closed his eyes to think.
"Come my child, why do you fret so?"
A soft, sweet voice spoke from the darkness. The man jerked up, casting his eyes about for the source of the voice.
"Hello? Who's there? By the Nine, I demand you show yourself!"
His voice rang out and echoed off the walls. It was firm, steady, and unwavering. Not one tremor to indicate the fear the man felt in is heart.
"There is no reason to be afraid. Come, come and look at me"
The man stood up and looked about the room. Against one wall, barely lit by the dim torch, was a golden statue of Mara, the goddess of love and compassion.
"There, you see? No reason to be afraid. Come my child, come and kneel before me."
As if in a trance, the man slowly walked over to the statue and knelt in front of it. His hands were already clasped in the familiar gesture of prayer from his childhood. His knees popped as he knelt, the sound echoing around the small room.
"Tell me, child, what is your name?"
The voice spoke again, quietly and kindly. The man looked at the statue, pondering for a moment before he spoke.
"I…I don't remember. Bless me, Mara, for I do not remember my name!"
Anguish crept into the man's voice, and with the last word he let out a sob. He had no memory of anything; who he was, what he had done in his life. He could not even remember what his face looked like.
A tear slid down the man's cheek and landed softly in the basin at the statue's feet.
"Come now, child. Do not weep, for all will be well soon. Why not have a drink? You look to be rather thirsty."
The basin suddenly filled with crystal clear water, and the man simultaneously realized how dry his throat was, and how thirsty he really felt. Greedily, the man dipped his hands into the bowl and raised the water to his lips. The water was cold, clear and delicious. The man swallowed the first gulp, and as he reached his hands back into the basin, his mind unlocked and his memories came flooding back.
The man froze as his mind filled. Images, names, faces, it all came back to him with sudden clarity. He remembered growing up in Cyrodil, taking an apprenticeship with a blacksmith in the Imperial City. He remembered his plans to return to Skyrim, the land of his ancestors, and he remembered…
"…My name! My name is Olbert. Olbert Stone-Hand."
More memories flooded him. He remembered his first steps into Skyrim, and the first sale he made. It had been to a lone Khajit traveler, who had bought a fine steel sword. He remembered travelling with a caravan, going to Markarth to try and make some coin.
"I remember it! I remember it all!"
Olbert's ecstasy was short lived however, as the last bits of memory returned to him. He remembered the ambush. A large group of bandits, dressed in strange armor that looked like animal carcasses, had attacked his trading caravan. He remembered trying to fight them off, hearing one behind him, and then he remembered the pain as a mace landed on the back of skull.
"I…But where am I now?"
His confusion quickly gave way to fear as a grim thought entered his mind.
"Am I…dead?"
"No, my child. Far from it." The statue reassured him "In fact, it is almost time for you to return there. But be warned, a great trial is coming to you. Fire will soon sill the skies above Skyrim, and many people will die. You however, will be able to prevent this, if you act with haste. Go, my child. Go now and fulfill your destiny, and know that Mara is watching you always"
Light began to fill the room. Olbert raised his hand to shield his eyes from the bright glow emanating from everywhere. Suddenly the floor dropped out from beneath him, and Olbert didn't even have time to yell as he plummeted toward the unknown.