It was at least nine o' clock on the evening of Turdas, judging by the alignment of the stars. I was tired and missing my horse, displeased with the prospects for the rest of the night and the next day. I had just spent the day inside the Nordic ruin of Rannveig's Fast. This was not what I had planned. My intention was to ride around the edge of the Hjaalmarch mountain range, then follow the River Hjaal to the main road that eventually leads to Morthal. I was on the way to Folgunthur in the search for the final fragment of Gauldur's Amulet. Fate had other plans, however.
Earlier this morning I rose from the bed of, Drelas, a powerful mage. I had spent the evening in the same humble home with his headless corpse. Had he not reacted violently when I innocently arrived at his cottage the previous evening in search for a place to rest, for it had all of the appearances of a welcoming abode, perhaps the morning would have begun better for both of us. Alas, one shouldn't waste a second when a mage turns to you and begins to cast offensive spells; and neither did I. The result of my quick decision was Volderund, the warhammer given to me by the daedric demon Malacath for defending myself against the cowardly orc chief Yamarz after I reluctantly saved his tribe at Largashbur (the only reason I did such a thing is because I initially feared for the welfare of my companion Marcurio), smashing the skull and decapitating Drelas as he lay prone from the blow he received but seconds before.
After refreshing myself with the food that Drelas had so neatly prepared for himself the previous night, but had unexpectedly become my breakfast, I searched through his home and took what alchemy ingredients I thought useful. It was during this rummaging that I discovered the name of the wizard who will never again have the luxury of being identified by his facial features. No sooner had I left Drelas in his cottage and mounted my horse was I attacked by a revered dragon. I leaped from my horse and sought cover. My horse was not so lucky. One blast of flames from the dragon's mouth and he fell dead in cinders. I could do nothing for him. Defeating that dragon was surely a test of my fighting skills, one that would have been made much more difficult had I not learnt the Dragonrend shout on the Throat of the World but a week ago. Nevertheless, it made my morning, and later my day, much more strenuous than I had hoped.
Instead of riding around the mountain horn, I now had to make the journey on foot. I had heard of a pass in the mountains, Cold Rock Pass, that lay a bit northwest from the spot where I was standing. Taking it would shorten my journey by at least several hours. On the way to the pass lay Rannveig's Fast. I was familiar with this ruin as it was one that Arngeir, the Greybeard monk, had told me that he could feel the power of the Thu'um emanating from it; meaning there was another word wall etched with Dragon language where I could, as Dragonborn, learn another word of power. There are certain benefits for taking risks with one's life. I felt that seeking out Rannveig's Fast, then, would be beneficial and that losing my horse may have turned out to be a happy coincidence.
Upon arriving at the ruin, I was accosted by apparitions, ghosts, souls of adventurers who pleaded with me to run as they attacked. I had no choice but to defend myself, swinging at their ethereal forms. While smashing them into ash piles, one or two of them wailed, "I don't want to do this! I'm sorry!". It seemed apparent that these souls were somehow enslaved by someone or something dwelling within the ruin, the cause of their aggressive yet apologetic behaviour. I would soon find out. I dove deeper into the ruin, sending the poor trapped souls that I encountered into Oblivion. There were traps throughout, which is typical for a Nordic ruin. Though I was able to detect and avoid the pressure plate and trip wire traps one usually finds in places like these, in my haste and carelessness I allowed myself to become ensnared. The floor dropped out from beneath my feet as I approached the word wall. I must have fallen 20 meters before I landed in a cage partially filled with water. Had it not been for a jutting rock on the way down that partially broke my fall, my legs probably would have been snapped like twigs. As soon as I regained my senses, I noticed that the cage I had fallen into contained the corpses of three other unfortunate Nords who were not so lucky as I. I was in a prison. There were cages surrounding the one I was in, some containing the corpses of adventurers. I tried for the cage door but it was locked, so I quickly retrieved a lockpick from my pack and began picking the lock. Just when I had felt the last tumbler fall into place, a man nearby began to boast of how he had captured me and how I had fallen for his trap. I was relieved that he had not seen or even suspected that I had picked the lock, so, as he was explaining his joy that I had survived the fall and of what devilish torments he was going to perform on me, I flung the cage door open and lunged at him with Volderund. He had no time to react as the first two powerful blows knocked him to his knees. As he attempted to collect himself, I delivered two more powerful blows, the final one resulting in something similar to Drelas'.
First I searched for life in the dungeon, but found none. Then I searched for something that would explain what I had just discovered, what trap I had fallen into. Near the tenderised body lie a journal resting on a table. In it I discovered that this body belonged to a man named Sild the Warlock and his ruminations on what he'd done with the other prisoners, namely enslaving their spirits. I placed the journal in my pack, as I do will all journals I find, and followed the narrow corridors and stairwells back to the word wall. On it was written the words in Dragon tongue: Here fell shield maiden Valkrys who fought with courage, but was wrong to trust [the] power of [a] broken sword. Upon reading it I learnt the final word of Kyne's Peace: "Ov" or "Trust".
I knew that I had been in the ruin for several hours and I was tired, sore, hungry, and desperate for a place to sleep. I was not going to travel through the pass tonight; I needed to rest. I searched the ruin for a bed or even a simple bedroll where I could lay my head but found none. It was then that I remembered the abandoned camp that lay just outside the door of the entrance to the ruin. There were tents and bedrolls made of animal skins. Presumably the equipment belonged to the dead adventurers, or maybe some Forsworn that had long since left. It did not matter to me, I needed rest, and not only would one of those bedrolls provide me comfort and warmth, but the tents would provide shelter from the elements. There was no fire and I certainly wasn't going to search for the means to light one, so I sat down and pulled out some food and ale from my pack, supped, and went to sleep.
I awoke just before sunrise the next morning and, after having a small bite to eat, I ascended the steps that led to the hole in the mountain known as Cold Rock Pass. I had to start out early if I planned on making it to the Nordic ruin of Folgunthur before nightfall. It was easy to understand why it was named Cold Rock Pass because the cave itself was made up a solid block of ice. Of course it was a precursor for the other end of the pass which would be covered in snow. The pass itself was not a great distance and it was inhabited only by one frost troll and several corpses of those who failed to get past him on their journey through the pass. I exited the pass to the north after pummeling the troll and looting the valuable items the dead Nords had carried in with them.
It was much colder on the northern face of the mountains. Wind sent ice crystals into my face from the tips of the large drifts of snow that sat on either side of the narrow path leading down the mountain. There was a blizzard blowing, blocking the sun and making it difficult to discern direction. On the way down I met a Redguard hunter who had set up camp. She had a fire and a spit with a cooking pot so I asked her if I could share some of my goods, which I had taken from barrels at the abandon camp outside of Rannveig's Fast, and cook some stews to which she generously agreed, providing some of her own goods. In return for her kindness, I gave her some venison that I had stored from a previous hunt. It was an early lunch, but it was nice to commune with someone after having experienced some rather inhospitable behaviour in my last two encounters with people.
I continued my journey to Morthal, which was only a few miles away from the hunter's camp. It didn't take me long to find the paved road that would lead me to the east, then fork to the south directly into the small village. Once on the road I stumbled on a small herd of deer, two bucks and a doe. It was time to replace the venison that I gave to the hunter and more. In a matter of minutes I had taken down the two bucks and the doe and, while cleaning the doe, I spotted a snow sabre cat sniffing at the previously skinned buck about 80 meters away from me. It was just what I was looking for; I needed the head to mount on my wall at Lakeside Manor.
Once I completed cleaning the dead animals, taking their pelts, meat, antlers, and other parts that were useful to me, I returned to the paved road and made my way to Morthal. I had plans to speak with Yarl Idgrod Ravencrone and her husband and steward Aslfur about purchasing some land within their hold that I may build on. I had done favours for them and the people in their village in the past and, as it is Nord custom to nominate one who is a valuable help to a yarl as Thane of the hold and to offer him the right to purchase and own property within the hold as an additional reward, I thought it would be timely to approach them on this matter. Thankfully, they offered me a small plot of land just northwest of Morthal, near the coast, to which I gladly accepted and gave them the five-thousand septims they asked for. At some point I plan to build on that patch of land, but I had to stay focused on retrieving the final fragment of Gauldur's Amulet. I did some business before leaving Morthal. I stopped into the Thaumaturgist's Hut, traded some goods and crafted some potions, had a pint at the Moorside Inn, then used some of the animal pelts I had stored in my pack to craft leather near the sawmill.
I continued on through the moorlands to the north towards the ruin of Folgunthur as it was marked on my map. I somehow managed to pass through undetected by any aggressive creatures and thus collected many local plant samples for alchemy ingredients. The moors were covered in a thick blanket of mist and fog so being able to see distant objects was impossible. I eventually arrived at a small abandoned camp just outside of the ruin. Someone had been here some time ago. I searched the area and found a journal inside one of the tents. A quick perusal revealed that it belonged to a person named Daynas Valen. His journey detailed his voyage from Cyrodiil to Skyrim by ship in search of Gauldur's Amulet, which he claimed contained great power. I had already retrieved two parts of it: one in Saarthal and the other in Geirmund's Hall. I had also read of the legend of Gauldur and his three sons in the book, 'Lost Legends', but the story was vague. This journal seemed to indicate that this Daynas Valen had much more information on the Amulet and the legend. As a collector of relics such as these, my interest became more piqued than ever. Into the crypt I went.
I was greeted with halls and tunnels filled with the corpses of adventurers and draugr. I assumed these adventurers must have been the group Daynas hired to act as fodder for the draugr while he made off with the precious amulet. The ruin was filled with traps and I was attacked more than once by draugr, both strong and weak, until I eventually arrived at the final resting place of Daynas and the rest of his hirelings. Daynas had the Ivory Dragon Claw, which was needed to proceed through the dungeon and open all doors that required the claw as the key for their keyholes. Thankfully, he also had a set of notes that further detailed the legend. Without these, the only man who knew as much lay before me in a pool of coagulated blood... and dead men don't talk. His notes revealed that King Harald had hunted down the three brothers who had slain their father, Gauldur, a powerful mage, and had each taken a piece of the amulet where he allegedly devised all of his great power. They used it to overpower, pillage, and destroy the lands and her people. The three ruins that I have traveled to were the sealed burial sites of each brother. In the other two crypts I had to face the spirit of the brothers interred there, so there was a good chance I would have to face Mikrul Gauldurson in this one. But with the new knowledge that I have of the Amulet and it's historical importance, any fear I had been replaced by the excitement of collecting such an amazing artifact.
I continued through the ruin, delightfully smashing the skeletal draugr into collections of broken bones along the way with my war hammer, until I finally arrived at the puzzle dragon claw keyhole. I entered the crypt and, behold, the tomb of Mikrul Gauldurson in all of it's splendour; sealed away and unseen by human eyes for three ages. I approached with caution. If were to guess, I wouldn't be fighting only Mikrul. My intuition was validated. His coffin lid exploded as he burst forth from his sleep. Seconds later, I heard coffin lids on my left and right exploding and crumbling as well. I ran directly at Mikrul and began to bring down heavy blows upon him with Volderund. My strategy was to focus my attacks on Mikrul in the hope that the draugr that were bursting from their coffins to come to his aid were his minions magically bound to him. This strategy was proven to be the proper one, for the weaker draugr were in fact his thralls; once I destroyed him, they would all lose their life force. I maintained a steady focus hitting him hard with strafing attacks then bashing him, causing him to stagger, then releasing my strongest attacks whilst he struggled to regain his senses. Within minutes I destroyed the third brother and retrieved both the final fragment of the amulet and the Gauldur Blackblade to go with my collection at Lakeview Manor.
But I had one more stop to make within this ruin before leaving. After looting what I could carry, for my pack was almost full and it had weighed just about as much as I could bear, I entered the locked room in the back of the crypt using the Ivory Dragon Claw. There was the word wall before me to strengthen my Thu'um. On the wall were the following words in Dragon tongue, which I read attentively: "Wulfin raised [this] stone in memory of his queen Hrefna Raven-Hair whose eyes froze [the] blood of any king". And, with that, I had learnt the final word of Frost Breath: "Froze" or "Diin".
It was now time for me to leave the Nordic ruin, the sacred burial ground of the ancestral Nords. I made the difficult trek, for I was battle weary and was carrying almost a full bag of loot as well, to the entrance of the ruin. I left the ruin and entered the night, a misty, humid darkness on the moor. I had been in the ruin for several hours. It was time to sit down, eat, then sleep peacefully. The next morning I would make my way to Solitude, where the High King of Skyrim once sat until Ulfric Stormcloak shouted him to death and the Queen was obliged to take the throne. It was also the place where the Imperial soldiers have their headquarters and garrison, not a place I particularly like visiting given that my own story with the Imperials started in Helgen where they were going to unmercifully execute me by beheading simply because I was a Nord in the wrong place at the wrong time. That I cannot easily forgive. But I digress. I made my way to the camp next to the ruin and ate some of the food that I had prepared with the Redguard hunter that morning and washed it down with a bottle of wine that I had taken from Drelas' cottage the day before. If the mist weren't so heavy that evening, I'd have been able to clearly see the Blue Palace, which sits at the tip of the natural stone arch that bends over the Karth River. But alas, I was not to catch that sight until morning when I awoke at the crack of dawn. The mist was still heavy, but I could see the shape of the beautiful palace almost looming overhead.
I was close to the city, but I had to make my way across the river and my only two options were to hike for several miles west and cross Dragon Bridge then double back on the northern shore or swim at the shortest width from the marshes to the docks at the East Empire Company Warehouse. I was tired and not interested in having any more unexpected difficulties spring on me while making a long hike, so I opted to swim across the river. I had heard that there are slaughterfish to be found in those waters, but I was so tired and weighed down with loot that I believed it was worth the risk of making it to shore with wide open, bleeding gashes on my person. Once I finished my small breakfast of ale, two apples, and a sweet roll, I walked to the edge of the moor, to the southern shore of the river. I could see the wooden dock steps but 50 meters or so away from me, though it is easy to misjudge distance on water. I plunged in the river and swam as fast as I could and made it to the docks unscathed, though weighing a bit more with the wet clothes. I headed to the west to purchase some lumber from the lumber yard that would be delivered to the plot of land that I had purchased from Aslfur the day before. When it was to be delivered was not my concern. It will probably be some time before I actually set foot on that land; I had so many more pressing things to accomplish.
The view of the city of Solitude was stunning from the lumber yard. Looking at it from that angle in the morning light brought with it the feeling of giddy anticipation. There were so many shops to visit, fresh foods at the market, and I couldn't wait to spend some time at The Winking Skeever, quite possibly one of the best taverns in Skyrim. Despite it's recent shortcomings and the well-deserved reservations I had of Solitude, it really was a beautiful place. Besides, I had searched Skyrim far and wide for an Amulet of Arkay so that I could complete my shrine display at Lakeview Manor, and I had heard a rumour that Radiant Raiment had one for sale. That was enough reason for me to set my personal feelings aside and visit the city of the High King... and the drink at The Winking Skeever, of course.
I climbed the hill toward the city and stopped off at the horse stables, contemplating purchasing a new horse. After some thought, I decided to wait and see how I feel after spending a day or two in Solitude. I may end up paying for a carriage ride when it's time to go, depending on my state of sobriety. So, off I went past the city gates. Here is Solitude. What do I do next?
To be continued...
