Real Author's Notes
This is my first foray into writing a story as a diary. The character is based partly on my own Skyrim character.
There will be elements not common or found in the game itself, but are logical expansions of things found in the game or with mods.
I am disregarding the Dawnguard expansion but using Hearthfire.
For information I have used the Game itself, The Imperial Library, and the TESLore community on Reddit.
I would love feedback on this one as it is basically an experiment. Please enjoy.
Editor's Notes
My mother told me stories of my grandmother as I grew. How she was a noble woman, a champion of the people. How she was the Last Dragonborn and how she defeated Alduin the World-Eater.
I did not believe the stories, nor did I believe that my grandmother was still walking amongst the living. I was wrong.
My grandmother appeared to me within a dream one night. She had finally left this mortal plane for Sovngrade. Still, she was not content.
"Audhilda," she spoke to me, "Daughter of my heart. My time is over, but still I cannot rest…"
"Grandmother!" I cried in horror, "What do you need of me to rest peacefully?"
"Find my camp, to the North of Lakeview Manor. You shall find my body, cremate it and then spread my ashes to the winds. Then, find my journals. My body will hold the key to the attic of Lakeview Manor. Publish my words so that all shall know the journey of the Last Dragonborn, Altmer daughter of Skyrim."
"I will Grandmother." I vowed.
"Wake up."
I awoke, gathering my things and setting out before day break. I found her, just as she told me, and burned her upon a pyre before spreading her to the winds. Still I was not done; I had her key and so journeyed to my ancestral stead, Lakeview Manor.
It was cold and unlived-in, my Nordic ancestors having grown and left upon their own adventures centuries ago. Thus my Grandmother became a nomad once more. Still, the key turned in the locks, and the ladder still led up to the attic. There, just as she had said, were her journals.
The following journal is her first journal in Skyrim. I have not edited it for ideology, voice, grammar, or content. These are purely my Grandmother's thoughts.
The tenth of Morning Star, Sundas
I am trapped in Skyrim. I was traveling into the region when I was captured along with rebel forces and a horse-thief. I do not remember exactly what happened but I awoke in a cart, headed to be executed in Helgen , a small city.
I spoke with a Nord man who turned out to be the Ulfric Stormcloak. Had I not been bound and had I not been incoherent I most likely would have killed him myself. He, the rebel leader, has cost me family! And those rotten Imperials thought I was aiding him! I spit upon him and his kin!
Still, I was bound and incoherent, possibly from a blow to my head, and we were heading to our execution. Still, as long as I could see Ulfric Stormcloak die, I'd willingly die as well.
Imperials were overseeing the execution, following a list. They called forth the names of the prisoners, only to find that I was not upon their list. The man spoke, asking me my name.
I drew myself to my full height, announcing, "I am Elanande of Dusk! I am granddaughter to the Champion of Cyrodiil, granddaughter of the Nerevarine of Morrowind!"
"She's not on the list," the man told his commanding officer, after musing that I was escaping the Thalmor.
"She goes to the block!" the woman bit back.
The horse-thief panicked and tried to escape, but he was shot and died.
The man with the list told me he would see that my body is returned to my homeland. We were led to the block where a Priestess of Arkay blessed us.
A idiotic Stormcloak interrupted her, walking to the block, saying, "For the love of Talos shut up."
He went to the block first, spitting at his executor, "Hurry up! I don't have all day!"
Though I detest the Stormcloaks I must envy them for their bravery when faced with death. I had heard many stories of Nords fighting against impossible odds so they may have an honorable death. However, to see such attitude in person, it's fascinating…
He laid his neck upon the block, a flash of sunlight and metal and the dull thud of such meeting the stone block, and the head fell into the basket.
"Next prisoner," the Captain shouted, though everyone paused as a low rumble echoed.
"It's nothing, next prisoner!" I went to the block, kneeling and placing my head upon it. And then suddenly, there was the great beast. A black dragon unlike anything I had ever seen or heard about.
Panic broke out as it roared, seeming to warp reality to it's will. I was hit by the sound fully, my sight going blurry and my hearing becoming muffled. I fell, as I had stood up from before, to my knees. And then suddenly I heard shouting, a man calling my name. It was the Imperial with the list, calling for me to follow him.
Without hesitation I did so, cursing the Nordic gods and all the Daedric Princes. I follow him through a battle, into the Keep of the town.
"We should be safe, for now, but we should keep moving," He said as he bolted the door as if that would fend off a dragon, "Here, let me get those bindings off you…"
"Who are you?" I demanded, standing at a distance. I was already working to loosen my bindings. My Mother had hired an expert Thief, a Khajit by the name of Swift-Silent-Stride, to teach me the thieving arts. In return Swift-Silent-Stride gained a pardon for accidently killing a mark in a botched burglary. I loosened my muscles, preparing to dislocate my weaker shoulder in order to be able to swing my arms over my head.
"Hadvar, from Riverwood." He replied carefully.
"Why would you help me," I asked, concentrating on making my work inconspicuous, "When you seemed agreeable to executing me though I wasn't on your list."
"I was against that!" he bit back, "But the Captain is my superior! I must obey her!"
"Of course, such blind loyalty is honorable." I managed to dislocate my shoulder and swing my arms in front of me. Quickly I healed myself, before burning away my bindings.
I shouldn't have, because the use of magic made me dizzy but I was stubborn. We were in a garrison so I began looking for supplies, finding some Imperial light armor and a shortsword.
(Note to self: When healed, head back to Darkwater Crossing to find my supplies. Report my unlawful imprisonment to the Embassy at first chance.)
I cursed my luck; I am not quite a warrior and had been lax on my studies of the sword during childhood. I could only hope what I did know was enough. Without speaking to the human I ventured forth, only to find my passage impeded by an iron gate. I found the lever, the human being useless. Quickly we headed deeper into the tower, picking up some potions, and dealing with those cursed Stormcloaks. I looted their bodies, finding bows and arrows and some small amounts of gold.
Then the spiders came, apparently there had been a nest of them under the keep. I hate spiders. Still, I dealt with them, the human getting in my way, and harvested their venom. A little further on, we encountered a bear. I killed it, skinned it, and continued on.
Soon we came to an opening, outside of Helgen.
"It's not safe for us to travel together," The human spoke, "I thank you for your help. If you're ever in Riverwood look up Alvor, my Uncle. He'll help you. Goodbye." And he left me.
Frustrated I headed after him, concluding that he was probably heading towards a town or outpost. Which meant there would be supplies and maybe a courier service.
Pushing off exhaustion and ignoring my aching muscles I trudged through the detestable weather of Skyrim, fervently longing for the warm climate of Dusk. Thankfully the nearest civilization was fairly close and I entered the town. I followed the human into a home.
I dropped my things and sat beside the fire, warming up. Suddenly a bear pelt blanket was wrapped about my shoulders and a mug of mead was pressed into my hands.
"Papa says I'm too friendly with strangers," the female child spoke, "But you seem alright. I'm Dorthe. Who are you?"
"A very unhappy Altmer woman," I scowled.
"Why?" she looked at me, "Drink the mead, it'll warm you up."
I raised an eyebrow, eyeing the golden liquid suspiciously before tipping my head and drinking; it burned down, making me cough, "I am not supposed to be here," I told her, "I'm a scholar, I was supposed to be studying Nordic ruins, searching for information on a being called The Dragonborn…However, I was captured by Imperials who thought I was a Stormcloak. I was about to be executed as a traitor, was attacked by a bloody great dragon, and had to walk through Skyrim's wilderness in nothing but thin rags…and now I'm telling all my troubles to a child…" I sighed.
"If Helgen was destroyed then Riverwood has no chance. Someone has to warn the Jarl," Alvor announced.
"I'll do it," I muttered.
"What'a woman!" Alvor shouted heartily.
"But first, let's get you warmed up and fed," Sigrid said warmly.
So now I sit, wrapped in pelts, next to the dying fire, beginning a new diary in a gifted book, with a gifted quill and ink. My ancestor once said that our blood is divine, that we are the Divines' chosen line. If only she could see me now…
The Eleventh of Morning Star, Morndas
I was preparing for my journey to Whiterun. Today I sold off my loot, making a pretty coin off it. Dorthe and Sigrid helped me create a pelt cloak, one of a black bear pelt, to ward off the blistering cold. I have purchased a tent, the kind favored by caravans, and chopped some firewood.
However, when I entered the Trader I found a woman and a man arguing. Apparently a family heirloom had been stolen and as such they had been experiencing a spate of bad luck. The woman, Camilla, had wished to track them down herself or, barring that, hire someone. Her brother, Lucan thought it was a lost cause.
Cursing my innate curiosity I asked what was going on. Somehow I was roped into agreeing to retrieve the 'Golden Claw'. However, they did give me a map of Skyrim and a Blue Mage's Robe so I don't freeze to death on the way to Bleak Falls Barrow. I headed back to Alvor's, gathering my things and explaining that I was to be back in little under seven days, weather permitting.
Before I left Dorthe tugged on my sleeve, "You need to line your boots with fur. It's to stop your toes from falling off from the cold." I raised an eyebrow but did as she told me to, lining my leather boots with wolf fur.
The hike was easy, until a blizzard forced me to pitch tent and try to wait it out. However, Sven, the bard of Riverwood's inn, has given me a lead on my research. The Dragonborn has been memorialized in a song. It is a short one but still it's a lead, which he helpfully dictated the words of to me.
Apparently The Dragonborn is a mythic warrior, said to be able to control reality with his voice. Such is the Thu'um, or Shouting; an ancient Nordic art, few people can master it, least of all use it proficiently. Interestingly enough, there are rumors that Ulfric Stormcloak Shouted the High King apart. That, along with the Dragon attack on Helgen, concerns me to no end.
I am hoping to get a chance to examine the Barrow, to take notes and copy down inscriptions I may find. Still, I am fearful. The ancient Nords were master necromancers, filling their tombs with Draugr; I pray that I do not have to deal with them.
Perhaps I shall write down my ancestry, in case I should die and someone else finds my journal.
We were a minor family, not too poor, not too wealthy for much of our history. A small estate and a reputation for powerful magicks kept us in the lower circles of nobility. We were purely Altmer, nothing special…Until my great-great-great-great-great-grandfather married a Dummer woman.
She came from an ignoble background, the daughter of two prisoners, released back into her native land when she came of age with nothing but the clothes upon her back and a paltry amount of gold. She was loosed upon Morrowind and no one took any notice until things began occurring about her.
A prophecy had foretold such events and that the one at the center of it all was Lord Nerevar returned to flesh and blood. A child, an 'outlander', born upon a certain day, to uncertain parents, under a certain sign would come to Morrowind and save her and her people.