Hello friends so I am republishing this story after quite a bit of editing and planning on continuing from where I left off. I hope you enjoy!
Happy Reading!
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I crouched down in the snow and sliced off a handful of Blue Mountain Flower blooms. They were covered in ice crystals, but they shouldn't have lost too much of their potency. I stowed them in my satchel as I straightened. My satchel was already overflowing, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to collect the blooms while I had the chance. There was no telling when my travels would take me to another region where the valuable blooms were this prevalent and I absolutely refused to purchase them from shopkeepers in the cities. What they charged for them was practically theft. And I would certainly know.
The bitter Arctic winds blasted between the mountains sending small whirlwinds of snow dancing around my boots. I looked over my shoulder, but couldn't see Mjoll anywhere behind me. We had been traveling the last couple days along the north forest road that ran between Solitude and Windhelm. We skirted both Morthall and Dawnstar without stopping, instead choosing to sleep out beneath the stars. For once, we were not pressed for time. There had been little trouble aside from the occasional wolf pack and Mjoll had adopted her own pace. With so little trouble even I didn't feel the need to travel in close proximity. When left to her own devices however, Mjoll traveled at a much more sedate pace than I preferred.
Mjoll and I had crisscrossed Skyrim so many times together I had stopped being dazzled by the sights and had taken to traveling with more expedience. Mjoll's love of traveling the wilds however was one of the things that made her such a great companion. She never complained about another night sleeping beneath the stars. She was simply content to follow the Dragonborn on whatever was to be my next great adventure. She loved the wilds and loved seeing all there was to see as we traveled. Unfortunately, it was also this very trait that had me annoyed with her now.
I stomped my feet, trying to stay warm as I waited for her to catch up. I had warmer gear in my knapsack, but getting it seemed like a waste of time. If we could just keep moving we would turn south once we reached Windhelm and continued on to Riften. Once we passed Kynesgrove the weather would improve dramatically. It was perhaps overly optimistic, but I was still hoping to get south of Kynesgrove before camping for the night. As I began to shiver in my armor I deeply regretted my choice to travel across the north instead of taking the longer, riskier road through The Reach. I would rather fight Forsworn than freeze any day.
Suddenly, everything went still. I froze. Even the wind, normally relentless in that part of The Pale, had ceased. It was as though Skyrim herself was holding her breath.
I tightened my fist on my ebony dagger. I silently cursed Mjoll again as a shiver ran down my spine. This one had nothing to do with the cold. I turned in a slow circle, my boots crunching softly in the new snow as I tried to determine the source of my unease.
I am Dovahkiin, I don't frighten easily, but there was something out there. I could feel it's malice, and strangely...it's patience. I let my eyes flit to the cliffs rising above me, but could see nothing but rock in the falling snow. I very slowly slid my dagger back into my belt and let my hands drift down to the hilts of my twin Daedric swords. I didn't draw them, I just closed my hands over their hilts. The leather grips were worn into the perfect shape of my hands and as I felt the enchantments flowing within them I immediately felt calmer. I pushed my cowl back, baring my cheeks to the icy air. I closed my eyes and listened.
I will be an old woman, warm and asleep in her bed, and I will still dream of the sound of dragon's wings. Nothing in all of Tamriel sounds quite like the air being beaten by their great wings, nor the feel of the very ground shaking beneath their feet. Nor is there anything that fills my mind with greater fear or my heart with the supreme joy as hearing the Thu'um of my kin echo through the mountains of my homeland.
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The Last Dragonborn
FanfictionThis is the story of the last Dragonborn - a mortal with the blood of a dragon. This is my story. But I'm not just the Dragonborn, I'm also Freyja, Guildmaster to the infamous Thieves Guild and a Nord whose homeland has been torn apart by civil war...