Prologue – Leaving Home

I wasn't born a hero.

I was a simple boy, with a simple life; a farm boy, born and raised in a small house just outside Riverwood. I was, for all intents and purposes, anonymous: I was known by my family and those who called Riverwood home, but to the rest of the world I was no one. I would live as a farmer and die as a farmer; my story would end the way it had for countless others before me. I knew from a young age that I couldn't bear to live that way. I wanted to be an adventurer; I wanted to travel, to slay monsters and hunt for treasure. I fought countless battles in my mind; in them, I was the people's hero, known and loved by all. I had an exciting life. I had a legacy to leave.

My parents had a different plan for me. My father worked the land and my mother sold fruits and vegetables in the village. They had no patience for my wild ideas, and didn't care much for excitement or legacies. They wanted me to live a quiet life and farm and take care of the family and never have any great adventures. It was a miserable thought.

I left home when I was 15. I'd packed everything I could fit into a small satchel I'd purchased in secret, and left in the middle of the night when everyone else was asleep. I could barely contain my excitement as I tip-toed out of the house and into the cool night, but as the house became smaller and smaller on the horizon I looked back with a feeling of guilt I hadn't expected. A lump formed in my throat. I knew my father would be angry when he discovered I was missing; my mother would probably cry. I swallowed hard and shifted the weight of the satchel on my shoulder. Someday, I thought, I'll return to see them. For now, the world waited.

I decided not to follow the road. I didn't want to run into any guards, who might have questions for a boy walking alone in the middle of the night, and I didn't want to be easy to find in case my parents sent someone looking for me. I'd heard people in the Sleeping Giant Inn talk of Whiterun, so I decided to follow the river upstream.

The night was calm, with only a slight breeze coming across the river. The moons were full and bright, but I wasn't familiar with the landscape this far from home and it was hard to see the ground in front of me. I picked through the low brush slowly; more than once I lost my footing and nearly fell. I had hoped to be in Whiterun with the sun, but it was looking like I'd be lucky to arrive by midday. I was beginning to feel a little trepidation about leaving, but thinking about all the things I would do in Whiterun kept me going. I'd never been in a real city before, and I didn't know what to expect. Getting a room at the inn is at the top of the list, I thought, stifling a yawn. I'd been up since dawn, and exhaustion threatened to overtake me.

The rustling of leaves nearby interrupted my thoughts. I stopped to listen. Waves lapped gently against the shore, and crickets chirped in the distance. Am I hearing things? I stood for a moment more before deciding it had been my imagination. I started moving again, but had only taken a few steps when I heard the rustling again, closer than before. Fear gripped me. I was being hunted. I reached slowly for my satchel. I had swiped a small dagger that my father kept for protection, but I'd never actually used it. My hand shook as I pulled it out and held it in front of me. I could slash and hack, but I didn't know if it'd be good enough to scare off whatever came out of the darkness.

Something wet and sticky hit me in the face. I stumbled, almost losing my footing. I tried to see what had hit me, but my vision was blurred. I reached up to wipe it away and was hit again, this time in the gut. I gasped as the wind was knocked out of me and I fell to my knees. The dagger, forgotten, dropped out of my hand as I clutched my stomach, desperately trying to get air.

Giant, hairy legs filled the darkness in front of me as the spider cleared the brush. It was something out of a nightmare; longer than I was tall, easily, with huge, curved fangs and beady black eyes. Venom, I thought. It's been spitting venom. Fear rooted me to the ground. The spider eyed me for a moment before rearing up onto its back legs, ready to attack. I rolled to my right and scrambled to my feet. I quickly searched the ground for my dagger, but it was no use. It was gone, swallowed by the brush and the darkness. Unfazed by my movement, the spider rushed toward me. Without the dagger, I knew I didn't stand a chance. I ran as fast as I could on shaking legs, hoping I was still headed in the right direction. The spider followed close behind, hissing. He spit again and hit me for a third time. My whole body shook, and it was getting harder and harder to see. If I didn't lose the spider soon, I would die – that I was sure of. I decided the river was my best bet; I was hoping the giant spider wouldn't follow me into the water. I ran down the bank. My legs gave out as soon as I hit the water, and I fell onto my stomach with a splash. The water was cold, and my arms and legs grew weaker and weaker as I tried to swim, further and further from the shore….

The spider stopped at the water's edge, hissing and spitting as it tried to hit me with its venom again and again. I worked my way downstream, half carried by the current, until the only sound I could hear was the rushing water. My arms and legs felt like they were made of iron and it was getting very hard to stay awake.

I dragged myself to shore and lay in the sand. I still felt sick from the spider's venom, and now I was dripping wet and shaking with cold. I felt for my satchel – I had packed all the clothes I could fit – but it was gone. I would have to deal with that problem later; right now, I needed to find somewhere out of the open to spend the rest of the night. I dragged myself up and trudged across the grass. My eyes were heavy, and every step was harder than the last. I found a fallen log not far from shore and crawled inside. This would have to be good enough. I closed my eyes and slept.

I was sore the next day, but I was alive. I crawled out of the log and looked around. The sun was up, and I could see the land around me much better than the night before. I'd ended up on the opposite bank, and the land sloped gently up in front of me. In the distance, I could see smoke. Whiterun was close.

I didn't get a heroic start, but I was undeterred. I continued on, ready to make a name for myself.

My name is Anerys, and this is my story.