I awake on the floor, the dream finally ending. Why would I imagine that horror? Luckily, the memory of my flying destruction is fading. I feel like I'm covered in bruises – sleeping in heavy armour is not something I'm going to repeat. I use the bed to haul myself off of the floor, and descend to the common room. I'm too nervous about the task ahead to eat, so I instead nod to the innkeeper and head out the door towards the city gates.

At the guardhouse just inside the gates, I pause.

"The Jarl has finally agreed to send you back to Riverwood." Irileth informs a group of guards hanging around outside. Obviously Riverwood's danger wasn't immediate enough that it couldn't wait until morning.

"Yes, Housecarl." Responds one. "We'll leave immediately."

"It's just us against a dragon, is that it?" Another worries.

"I can't afford to send anyone else, and we don't know where the dragon is." Irileth explains. "Your main job will be to keep an eye out and get the people to safety if the town is attacked. I don't expect the three of you to fight off a dragon by yourselves, but I do expect you to do your duty."

"Of course. We'll keep Riverwood safe, you can count on it. Let's move out. Time's a-wasting." The three guards jogged through the gates.

I follow, to discover a Khajiit trading caravan has set up outside town overnight. I decide to use their services before continuing to the barrow.

"Ri'saad welcomes you. Need something?" growls the seated cat.

"What have you got for sale?"

He gestures towards the interior of his tent. "Take a look."

I purchase some lockpicks and sell the cuirass the Jarl had given me.

"May your road lead you to warm sands." The Khajiit says in farewell as I thank him and start off down the road.

The journey back along the road is uneventful, the only other traveller I meet a nobleman on a horse being escorted by an Imperial. I soon reach the bridge to Riverwood, but instead of crossing to the welcoming town, I turn up the other path that twists up the mountain. I haven't gone far when a growling hunk of fur launches itself at me, and, without thinking, I drag my axe from my waist and slash with all my strength. The wolf howls in pain, and lands with a thump at my feet. I skin it, then switch to using the longbow.

Beyond the snowline, I come across a watchtower, inhabited by a small group of men. Before I can greet them, however, one pulls out his sword and charges at me, yelling that I'd be easier to rob if I was dead. That is something I do not intend to be for another couple of centuries, at least.

Raising my bow, I draw an arrow to my cheek. The first shot slams into his shoulder, and he grunts, but continues his speedy approach. My next arrow stops him mid-stride, taking him in the throat.

I barely have time for pride in my shooting, however, as an arrow similar to mine thunks into my side. I feel the pain, but faintly, as I am consumed by bloodlust. I launch another shaft in his direction, but it is intercepted by another blade-swinging man. He roars, but continues. I draw another arrow to my cheek, aiming carefully. His blade never touches me, and my next attack takes the archer right through the heart. I rejoice in the victory, but as my heart slows back to its normal rhythm, I am shocked at myself. How can I possibly take so much joy from ending the lives of others, even if those others would've happily finished mine? These thoughts don't stop me looting their bodies though, after pulling out the arrow carefully and healing myself. I tuck their weapons into their satchels so passing creatures don't hurt themselves, and climb the tower looking for more loot. There isn't much, just some food and ingredients in some barrels, but there is a chest with some gold and a couple potions at the top. I see some ore at the bottom of the tower, so I climb back down and use the pickaxe I took off one of the corpses to mine it – ore can be valuable.

I continue along the path, and the great ruinous barrow comes into view through the cold mist. It is very deserving of its name. The wind moans around the grey stone, and I see the shapes of people wandering around. I decide I won't be as trusting as I was before, so I crouch down and sneak toward the steps up to the great doors. The people are obviously part of the group that broke into the Riverwood Trader, so I nock an arrow, and send it flying toward the girl guarding the doors. She cries as she falls, alerting her two companions, who draw their formidable weapons and come searching for me. I manage to fell another before they see me, and drawing my axe, I holster my bow and charge in. I duck his blow, my axe glancing off his chest, and while I'm low I knock him off his feet, then straighten and send my axe slamming into his skull, chopping it open with a sickening crack. I use the fur of his armour to clean my blade, and I bag his warhammer and any valuables he and his companions carry. The girl had a bow that looks to be stronger than the one I currently carry, so I put my longbow in my bag, slip my axe into its loop, and sneak inside, an arrow nocked on my new hunting bow, but not drawn.

The room was massive, the ceiling disappearing into murk. The floor was scattered with fallen rubble and dead skeevers. The creatures had obviously put up quite a fight, though, as there was also the body of one of the bandits lying near a supporting column. Across the other side of the room were two great wooden doors, in front of which a pair of thieves had set up camp. As I sneak closer, cutting the tails off the skeevers to use in potions as I go, I can hear the two arguing about something, but I can't make out what they are saying. Damn thieves – your days of preying on the weak are over.

I draw the bow – this is definitely a better one than the longbow – and loose, the arrow missing by inches and bouncing off of a large stone jug. This startles the pair, who ready their weapons and come searching. My next shot takes the swordsman through the forehead, instantly ending his life, but marking my position to his fellow, who drew an arrow to her cheek and took aim.

My first shot at her lands on the arm holding the bow, a powerful shot that sends the arrow halfway down her arm. I wince in sympathy even as the next projectile pierces her shoulder, draining the last of her blood. There's no way I'll be able to get that arrow back, but she has plenty on her back, so I take them and her comrade's steel sword, which is lighter than the axe and, I find, easier to use. Picking open the chest in the camp, I find a couple of potions and some gold, then I open the doors and follow the corridor down, pushing through a couple of thin webs. Yuck – why does dungeon-delving have to be so gross?

Along the passage are more skeever bodies and a couple of burial urns, which I loot. I reach what used to be a room, but roots have grown through the ceiling and have turned the space into a twist in the corridor. At the bottom of some steps, I spy another bandit, so I crouch down and watch as he approaches a lever in the floor in the middle of the room.

As he pulls the lever, small bolts fire out of tiny holes in the floor of the narrow balcony above the iron grate he was obviously attempting to open, and the man cries out, falls, twitches a couple of times, then stops. The darts must have been poisoned. I straighten up and enter the room myself, revealing more of the room.

Above the balcony, two stone heads and an empty alcove between them stare at me, the heads with pictures in their mouths, of a snake and a whale respectively. Beneath a larger area, to which the balcony reaches, lies the remains of another stone head, also with a snake in its gaping jaw. Along the wall to my left are three alcoves, each containing a three sided pillar decorated with the same images as the heads, as well as a bird.

I loot the ex-bandit, and climb the stairs to the balcony to take the potion sat on some shelves on the raised area across the balcony. Jumping down, I look at the pillars, then at the heads. Then I see where the bandit went wrong.

I turn the first pillar to show a snake, the second to the same, and the third to show a whale, so the images shown by the small monoliths correspond with what the stone heads would've shown had they all been intact. I then cross the room, take a deep breath and, screwing my eyes tight shut, pull the lever.

The gate opens.

I can't remember the last time I was this relieved. No, really, I can't. I hate that what happened to put me in that cart has wiped my memory. I feel that there is so much I need to remember, stuff that might be important at some point, but I just can't, and this depresses me.

I stop moping, ready my bow and cross the threshold into the room on the other side. I skim through the book that is lying on the table, loot the chest and urns, then turn toward the staircase spiralling down. A bow is useless in confined spaces, so I sling it onto my back and ready a flame spell in my hand. A good idea, it turns out, as three skeevers hear my descent and attack. The magical fire makes quick work of them, and their charred remains slide down the wooden steps. Cropping their tails, I also take the poison and the scroll that lie on the table in the room at the bottom. I switch back to my bow and head down the passage before me.

"Is – is someone coming?" I hear a voice call from deeper in the ruin. "Is that you, Harknir? Bjorn? Soling? I know I ran ahead with the claw, but I need help!"

I am about to try to find the source of the voice, but I notice a clot of web covering something large and cuboid, so I burn the web away to reveal a chest that contains a potion and some gold. I turn to my left to find both entrances to a large, web-covered room blocked, the left by roots and the right by thick web. I burn through the web and step through – alerting an enormous spider that comes dropping from the ceiling. I manage to shoot it with a couple of arrows before it closes the distance between us, and I finish it off with fire before it can do too much damage to me. I loot the urns and the egg-sacs in the room before heading over to a Dunmer who is entangled in thick, sticky web.

"You did it – you killed it!" He cries. "Now cut me down before anything else shows up."

I take advantage of the situation. "Where's the Golden Claw?"

"Yes, the claw – I know how it works! The claw, the markings, the door in the Hall of Stories; I know how they all fit together!" He says. "Help me down and I'll show you – you won't believe the power the Nords have hidden there."

"Fine." I consent. "Let me see if I can cut you down." I draw my sword and start hacking through the strongly-spun strands.

"Sweet breath of Arkay, thank-you!" The stricken bandit cries. "It's coming loose, I can feel it!" He is soon free, but as he regains his balance, he smiles at me wickedly.

"You fool. Why should I share the treasure with anyone?" He spins and bolts down the corridor the tangle had revealed.

Now this is what helping a thief gets you. I promise to myself that every location I must visit that isn't a town, inn or city, I clear of inhabitants, whether humanoid or not. I follow the web covered figure as he disappears around a corner.

As I descend a set of stairs, a decrepit figure rises from its repose in an alcove. Great, now the dead are walking?! I draw an arrow to my cheek and fire it into the face of the dried-up ex-human. It jerks, and continues its shamble towards me. My next shot, however, soon fells the unfortunate thing. The noise of the fight has awoken another though, that is quickly dealt with. I sneak into the room and inspect the bodies. These are no ordinary undead – these are the fabled Draugr, the cursed corpses of former dragon worshippers. The bodies still hold some gold, so I take that, and the arrows that are still in good condition that are slung across one's back. As I straighten, I see the body of the claw-thief, where the swinging axes in the passage beyond had thrown him. I rummage through his bag, to find the Golden Claw, some gold, and a journal, which I pick up in interest and open.

Arvel's Journal. Reads the front page. I turn it over and continue reading. My fingers are trembling. The Golden Claw is finally in my hands, and with it, the power of the ancient Nordic heroes. That fool Lucan Valerius had no idea that his favourite decoration was actually the key to Bleak Falls Barrow. Now I just need to get to the Hall of Stories and unlock the door. The legend says there is a test that the Nords put in place to keep the unworthy away, but that 'when you have the Golden Claw, the solution is in the palm of your hands.'

Arvel, you were the fool, thinking you could just run through a place like this unharmed. Still, that last part sounded important – I'd better remember that. Now, though, to deal with these damn axes that are in my way.

Watching the blades swing, I soon find the rhythm, and dodge past the first one, then the second, but the third catches me on the shoulder just as I skip through. Ouch. I heal myself and the pain fades. I look ahead to find myself in a passage lined with small alcoves, each just large enough for the corpse they contain. In larger alcoves stand Draugr, seemingly sleeping. I manage to shoot a couple of them before they 'wake', and I lure two more to wade through a large puddle of oil, then shoot an arrow at the lantern hanging above, knocking it to the ground, where it smashes and ignites the oil. The Draugr died in almost silence.

The passage opens up to a room bifurcated by a stream that rushes through a gate in the right side wall. Across the stream, a vertical coffin crashes open, and out steps a Draugr, which growls as it sees my form in the entryway. It begins a speedy limp towards me, but two projectiles later it lies in the stream, the eerie blue light in its eyes dimming.

I loot the chest across the stream then pull the chain on the wall to open the gate. I paddle through into a cavern, the walls sprinkled with strange, glowing fungi. I harvest the weird mushrooms, then mine the iron ore vein that sits in the middle of the floor. On the other side of the cavern, the brook tumbles over a ledge into a pit below, spanned by a natural rock bridge, along which wanders a Draugr. After looting a nearby chest, I follow the passage to my right, clipping the fungi from the walls as I go. The rocky corridor joins up to the arch, and I take the opportunity to take out the undead warrior before it sees me. It tumbles off the span of stone down the pit into which the water falls. There is a ledge that runs down the sides, so I follow that to the bottom to find a chest and a drowned skeever, both of which I loot together with the Draugr.

I climb back up the slope of the ledge and continue along the passage to a room that is half ruined, patrolled by yet another Draugr. When the corpse returns to its true state, I loot a chest half-buried in the rubble, then pass through a door.

I'm starting to feel the hunger that I know has been there the whole time I've been inside this wretched tomb, and I wish I had at least brought food with me. Gritting my teeth, promising to buy something the moment I'm out, I continue my adventure.

After following the passage and emptying out the containers I encounter, I reach another trap – more pendulum axes. I only manage to dodge one, this time, but a healing potion soon fixes the deep gash across my back. I'm lucky it didn't sever my spine – if I had, I'd have been damned to rot in this dark hole until the next adventurer came along. But then, that probably wouldn't have been that long, seeing as Balgruuf and Farengar seem pretty eager to get their hands on this Dragonstone.

I blot out all thoughts of death and return to the task ahead. The room I'm now in is flooded with oil, with a couple of fragile lanterns hanging from the bridge above. As I step forward, the lid of a tomb to my left bursts into the air, allowing the undead inside to rise. It doesn't get far though, as a well-aimed arrow smacks into the space between its clavicles and throws it back in the casket. And stay put!

Its dying growl, however, alerts two of its wandering fellows, who descend a wooden ramp across the room to see what the racket was about. Just as they step in the oil, I shoot an arrow at one of the ceramic jugs and the oil bursts to light, burning them both into blackened shapes.

I climb the sloped beams, cross the bridge and open a door to find myself in a short, spacious corridor ended with what I assume to be a door, three large rings around a central circular plaque with three indents across the top. This must be the Hall of Stories then. Crossing the floor, I study the walls, which are intricately carved with human figures, but they are so worn I cannot make out any details or what the tale is meant to be.

Reaching the door, I pull out the claw, remembering the riddle from Arvel's diary. '…the solution is in the palm of your hands'… The claw! That must hold the answer!

I inspect the golden object, and sure enough, carved into the palm of the claw are three symbols, a bear, a dragonfly and an owl. I turn the rings in the door until they match the design, then press the claw to the central stone, twisting and hoping.

The door clunks thrice, then grinds into the floor, a stone platform sliding across the gap left in the floor of the doorway. On the other side is a huge cave, in the middle of which is a tomb, a chest and a massive wall. As I get closer, a small colony of bats flitters away in fright over my head. I notice a vein of ore, which I mine, then I skirt around the edge of the room first in case of other loot. I eventually find two other chests, one each side of the room, and I empty them both before approaching the platform in the middle. I clean out the chest in the middle of the room, then I stop.

The wall is calling me.

I step closer. The voices increase in volume, the chanting running through and around my head.

Closer, closer.

Everything is dark, the only light from the etched word that reaches out to me, calling my soul.

I extend my arm, stretching my fingers toward the blue scratches in the pitch black wall. Finally, I touch stone.

Warmth spreads throughout my body, and suddenly I know exactly what the word says.

Fus.

Suddenly, the room lightens, the word fades, and the warm feeling dissipates. What just happened? It was like I was hypnotised or something. Before I have stood long in contemplation, however, the tomb behind me opens with a crash, and out climbs a Draugr that is taller than the ones I fought before. It seems stronger, too.

I raise my sword just in time to stop a black blade from slamming into my black-haired skull. I can feel cold radiating from the sword – obviously, the blade is enchanted. Thrusting it away, I return the sentiment, managing to cut open its withered arm. Dodging its next attack, I manage another couple of attacks before blocking another strike, but not before the tip of its frozen sword cuts my shoulder. It feels like someone has scratched me with an icicle.

Another couple of swings and the creature is un-undead. I take the sword to use on the enchanting table at Dragonsreach. I rummage through the rotting sack tied to its belt and find inside the carved tablet that I was sent for. Finally this is over!

I climb up the nearby stairs into a narrow passage, blocked halfway by what looks like a solid wall of stone. There's a handle nearby, so I turn it and the solid wall rises into the roof, and I pass through, jump down off a ledge and loot one final chest before scrambling through the opening back into the outside world.

I can't believe how long I was in there! The sun is all the way across the other side of the sky – there can only be another couple of hours left before nightfall. There doesn't seem to be a safe way down, so I jump down from rocky ledge to ledge, picking up a potion as I go. Wonder how the mixture got there? No matter, I'll soon be back in Riverwood. I head downriver, mining the corundum ore I come across. I'm on the wrong side of the river, though, so I begin to swim across.

Something bites my ankle. I stop and twist around, to see the jagged shape of a slaughterfish speeding towards me, aiming for another go. Blasted things. I continue across the river until the water is shallow enough for me to be able to stand and draw my sword. One slash, and the carnivorous fish floats to the surface. I descale it, then head up the slope towards the road, which I follow back to town.

My, is Riverwood a welcome sight! I head straight to the Trader.

"The sooner you find the claw, the sooner our lives can get back to normal." Lucan greets me. I reach into my bag and grab the Golden Claw.

"I have the Golden Claw." I retort, placing it on the counter.

"You found it? Ha ha ha!" The shopkeeper laughs, relieved. "There it is!" He picked it up, inspecting it for damage. "Strange, it seems smaller than I remember. Funny thing, huh? I'm going to put this back where it belongs. I'll never forget this! You've done a great thing for me and my sister." He placed it back on the counter, adjusted its position, then handed me a purse bulging with coin. "Thank-you so much for taking care of those thieves. The Riverwood Trader is back to the way it used to be!"

"I'd like to sell some stuff." I start emptying my little satchel of all the loot that I don't want to keep. Lucan again assesses each item as it lands on the table-top, then hands me another bag of gold. I use some of the gold to buy some more arrows and potions, and a necklace of waterbreathing. This will come in useful. I put the jewellery on, then nod to Camilla and leave the store.

I glance at the setting sun – I can make it to Whiterun, I'm sure. I start down the road, passing another prisoner convoy. The Imperials sure are busy!

I misjudged the distance – it's already getting dark, and I haven't even reached the crossroads yet. I take a shortcut behind the Meadery, and sprint toward the gates that stand between me and the light of the city. I make it just as the moons rise. I jog to the market and enter the Bannered Mare.

"What can I get you?" asks the innkeeper.

"I'd like to rent a room." I hand over the ten gold fee.

"Of course. You know the way. My name is Hulda, by the way.

This time, I pause long enough to remove my armour.