Dear Diary,

Do the patterns in the stars tell us who we are and do we really want to know?

The Greybeards gave me a book written by Jurgen Windcaller, their founder. It was a dictionary of sorts. Each page told a story three times. One in Deykel, written symbols, one in Pelnix, transcribed words, and one in Rotun, common translation. Reading the first story aloud caused a smile on Arngeir's, otherwise solemn, face. It turned out to be the story from the waystones.

With every story in the book a deeper understanding of Dovahzul opened up new Rotmulaag, words of power. Force, Fire, Life... Master Arngeir adressed me when I said my goodbyes.

"What will you do with your gift? A Thu'um sparked all-out civil war and a Thu'um vanquished Alduin, the World-Eater. What will your Thu'um say?"

"Wuth keizaal neilaas, Old Skyrim survives." I answered after a brief moment of contemplation. "Old man Iverrig used to say that. Skyrim will always be and so will we."

"A good answer, though as Dragonborn, there is no right answer. Maybe with your prowess the language will set our people back on the path of enlightenment."

"I want to learn the language, but I have another priority right now." I said and showed Master Arngeir the collar around my neck.

He nodded and bid me farewell. "Sky above, voice within. Dovahkiin."

The road down the seven thousand steps was shorter than I could remember. There were no pilgrims traveling up the stairs even though the weather was fair. When I reached Ivarstead at the bottom of the stairs I was greeted by a rather dismal sight. On the road lay a dead guard, up against the inn sat a barely alive one, the roof of the inn had partially collapsed, The farmhouse door had been knocked out and people were running around... I saw Klimmek in the distance. He was holding his arm which was apparently bleeding.

"Klimmek, what happened? Who did this?" I ask when I had caught up with him.

"Bandits. Those bastards took Fastred. I couldn't stop them. I tried... Oh, Fastred." Tears rolled down his face.

"Where did they go? And how many?" I asked while I grabbed the book of Deykel. One of the stories had caught my eye earlier. It was called Jul wo kriist, the man who stood. The word described in the story seared into my mind, Ahkrin, Courage.

"They headed for Nilheim tower. They have been there for weeks, but they have always stayed away... There were four of them. The guards were no match for them and we were all unarmed... I couldn't do anything when they took Fastred away... I will never forgive myself..."

I had picked up one of the guardsman's swords. I pushed it into his hands and applied a healing touch to his wounded arm. He looked me in the eyes and was probably about to ask me what we were going to do, but I steadied him with both hands and said; "Klimmek, I don't know what this will do, but trust me alright."

He nodded, still confused. As I formed the word on my tongue, I could feel a fire roaring in my heart. "Ahkrin!"

Klimmek drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again you could see a changed man.

"I'm coming Fastred!" He shouted, turned and began to run to where, I guess, Nilheim tower was. I quickly followed suit.

A brisk jog to somewhere on the other side of the lake brought us to a decrepit tower. Fastred could be heard, screaming her lungs out... Two of the bandits were busy trying to have their way with her, but they had not gotten far. Klimmek and I had a slight element of surprise... There were just three bandits immediately present. Klimmek kicked the one that was on top of Fastred off of her with a sickening punt to the ribs. The one that was restraining her hands looked up, but was instantly decapitated. Klimmek was feeding directly of his own courage. The word of power had only put him in touch with his Atmoran heritage. Before the first bandit could get up Klimmek had grabbed hold of him and with his bare hands he snapped his neck.

I dispatched the third bandit with Friend's Razor by plunging it into his neck, through his heart. The fourth one appeared too far away from me to interrupt him while he drew an arrow and aimed for Klimmek.

The words came easier this time... I shouted: "FO KRAH DIIN!!"

Klimmek and Fastred turned to see the bandit freeze in place. The arrow fell from his hands. A mere moment later and the arrow had been on its way to them.

"You are... Dragonborn..." Klimmek gasped as I walked to the frozen bandit. With a single strike from big rock I had picked up on the way he shattered into a thousand pieces...

The way back was quiet. Night had fallen, vengeance had been exacted, the maiden had been rescued and love was blossoming. Apparently Klimmek had been unable to express his love for Fastred for some time now. We were all covered in blood... Back at Ivarstead I parted ways with the two lovebirds for the night. Things were going to happen which I had no business interfering with. I suspect that 9 months from now Ivarstead will grow in population. Boti offered a bed to me for the night. An offer which I accepted with both hands.

I hate blood...

Disclaimer (thanks to thebookdesigner.com ):

This is a work of (pure adult) fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Note: This one was a tad short, but I'm planning a bit more for the next one