Author's Note: I do not own Skyrim, but I do own this adorable dog named Zephyr who is currently laying next to me on my bed.

So, managed to climb to High Hrothgar, after NEARLY GETTING MY FACE EATEN OFF BY A FROST TROLL! Seriously? Who the hell thinks these things through? And why the hell would you put a monastery at the top of a mountain other than to make pilgrims and what have you suffer? Asshats.

So after climbing this god forsaken pile of rock and snow, these Greybeard bastards tell me I am without a doubt the Dragonborn and that they want to teach me in the ways of "The Voice". Curiously enough, I take them up on their offer.

This led me into, dadada you guessed it, another ancient Nord ruin. Sigh. I was to retrieve something by some guy who was the founder of their cult or what have you. And after traversing yet another underground crypt where I was battling undead bastards and solving puzzles, I reach a damn note, A NOTE, telling me to meet this mysterious person at the Sleepy Giant Inn in Riverwood by asking for the attic room.

I get there and ask for it, and by then I am pissed and ready to strangle the fool who took the stupid horn. The innkeeper however says there's no such thing as the attic room and gives me a normal room. I go to said room and start fuming thinking I've been duped, when the innkeeper, Delphine comes in and tells me it was her that took the horn because she wanted to meet the Dragonborn herself.

She makes me follow her to a hidden cellar from her room and begins speaking about another cult of some sort called "The Blades", who many a year ago hunted dragons and even served the emperor of Cyrodil. After a somewhat lengthy discussion she wants me to prove to her that I am in fact this Dragonborn chick.

And me being headstrong and a bit of a showoff, I agree to seek out dragon burial sites to kill a dragon and absorb it's soul, not before clearing out her stash of course, which, after buying a house, I could use the money, so don't judge me.

I run to Kynesgrove with her to see the black jerk of a dragon from my almost-execution performing some kind of revival ritual to the dragon skeleton located in what I would have guessed to be the burial site Delphine had mentioned. The dragon spoke to me in some strange language and then insults me by pretty much calling me stupid and unworthy of the title I have been bestowed and then flies away after telling his lackey to kill me and Delphine, tough luck for him though, because we kill the damn dragon in a very short battle. Looks like mister World-eater needs better minions.

Afterwards Delphine accepted that I am in fact this "Dragonborn" and finally answered my questions.

After all that nonsense was done and away with I managed to crawl back up the Throat of the World, the enormous mountain the Greybeards live on, and give the head monk or what have you, Arngeir, the stupid horn. They then accepted me as this powerful Dragonborn and called me Ysmir, which meant "Dragon of the North".

Don't think I'm doing too badly. Just a couple weeks ago I was almost getting my head chopped of in some sort of confusion with Stormcloaks and a horse thief, and now look at me. I own a house, have a minion, am "Thane" of a hold, became the Dragonborn, and have bitches pooling around my heels.

The only thing missing is finding the bastard who killed my parents and exacting my revenge. I remember he had a sickly yellowish tone to his skin, had pointed ears, and an angular face, so at one point in his time, before becoming the deviant of the night that he is, that he had to belong to any of the races of elves, more like a wood elf or high elf.

But in any case, off that grim topic, I don't want those memories resurfacing for tonight is the first in four days I can relax. Lydia didn't seem too pleased at my condition when I returned home however.

I guess things did get a little rough though. The look on her face was kind of amusing when I asked her to undress me and tend to the numerous cuts, bruises, and burn that have now marred my being.

I suppose I should invest this times loot into some better armor because this fur armor I got off an idiot bandit does nothing for protection, and frankly, the dried blood and inners from the guy are starting to really stink.

Hmm, maybe that was the real reason behind Lydia's disgusted look. That would make more sense.

She's back over in her usual spot again staring at me as I reflect while trying to fall asleep, and this time it's a little more unnerving seeing as my armor was removed and I am now down to my undergarments. I really need to have a talk with her and her prying eyes; it's becoming unsettling to think that she watches me sleep at times. I wonder what she does when I'm not here….