UESP Forums

The king and his guests sat around the large oval dinner table laden with a feast, well fit for a king. The fire crackled bright and warmly behind them as goblets were emptied and ladies and gentlemen laughed and talked in good spirits. The king, sitting at the head of the table looked out at the party and felt pleased with what he saw. And not just what was one the surface either. Sure his guests were fed and watered, and that made any one happy, but what pleased him most was that this same sort of attitude presented at his table was one that was reflected throughout his kingdom; prosperity and happiness. Life was good.
And as he sat, a smile upon his bearded face, goblet half way to his mouth, a sudden rushing noise filled the hall. The light attitude of the guests instantly vanished to be replaced by fear and uncertainty. Even the king, placing his goblet on the table, stood slowly, his hand already reaching for his gem encrusted sword, the same with which he had been knighted and crowned, ready to face whatever fell demon dare disturb his joyous evening.
The rushing, howling wind grew louder and stronger, tearing at the women’s ornate garments, sending the fireplace into a roaring inferno and throwing silver dishes flying across the room. At the entrance of the hall, just in front of the massive oak doors, a portal began to open, a swirling doorway of black, blue and purple to a realm no man knew. The evil-looking entrance continued to grow in size ‘til it was some seven feet across, its depth black as the darkest pitch. And when the portal had grown to its full size, or so the king assumed for it grew no more, the wind died immediately, just as swiftly as it had come. And then silence. An explosion of great magnitude emanated from the portal, blasted every occupant in the great hall back into their chairs, hairdos flying uncontrollably, the fire being completed extinguished. And from the blast flew forth a man in simple robes wielding a long cane, onto the flagstone floor at the foot of the dining table, the portal instantly closing behind him. Wives hugged their husbands in fear of the stranger whilst the men drew swords, cautiously watching the man, uncertain if he was friend or foe. The king rose from his high-backed chair to better see the man, even as the man himself rose to his own sandaled feet. The strange man looked about apprehensively, studying his surroundings, his eyes alighting first upon the naked swords pointed towards him. Slowly the man found the eyes of the king, and spread his hands wide, his staff clutched in his left hand, and spoke in a higher-pitched, slightly wheezy voice, “Please, I mean no harm, I come in peace! I only request an audience with the king of this land. I bring urgent news of its future. News imperative if this kingdom is to survive.”
Uncertain of what action to take, the gentlemen around the table looked to their king, their swords still pointed at the stranger. The king took several moments to look over the man, determining the worthiness of his words. His entrance clearly made the man a magician of sorts, many rumors had been heard of such people, though the king had never yet met one. Such folk were said to be of the devil and insane. The king however had reserved such personal judgments. He liked to see a man for himself before passing any sort of judgment about their character. And though this man seemed of unearthly powers, his demeanor seemed to be that of an honest man. True he had no sort of fact to base this on, and he had often been chided by his advisors, friends, and even wife that he was too naïve about strangers, but the king liked his “innocent ‘til proven guilty” attitude towards all man. He believed it gave him an insight and open-mindedness about their nature that would have otherwise been clouded if they had been instantly judged as ill-begotten or churlish. Plus it gave him good standing amidst his subjects. And lastly the man seemed to understand his position, having glanced many times at the shining swords pointed towards his unprotected chest. No, the king wasn’t naïve, he was just kind. But he was not stupid. And clearly neither was this man. He may have unearthly powers, but the fear in his eyes told the king that if he gave the order to attack, the stranger would have no way to defend himself with his “powers”. The man was not a threat, and neither, as far as he could tell, was there any threat in hearing what he had to say. It must have been very important to have traveled in such an elaborate way.
“Sit,” the king said kindly, pointing to a fallen chair at the stranger’s feet.
“Thank you my lord,” the stranger said, righting the toppled chair, perching apprehensively behind the massive oval table even as the king himself sat. The gentlemen looked with confusion between the stranger and their king.
The king gestured impatiently that they should follow suit. “It can’t hurt to hear what he has to say, can it?” the king reasoned to his guests.
“Indeed it can’t my lord,” the stranger said. “And I must say it is nice to be treated civilly this time. The last few kings were far more, hmm, shall we say uncooperative.”
"What is your name stranger? And though I may be more ‘cooperative’, do know that I shall not treat ineptitude and idleness lightly. I have no time for fools.”
The stranger smiled slightly to himself, an act that confused the king, before pressing on. “My named, good king, is Melphrim. And I am glad to hear you have no time for idleness and foolishness. In fact, that has much to do with why I am here. You see I come from a time beyond this one, a time that has not yet happened, at least not for you. And I bring news, even as I first announced.”
“Go on then Melphrim, and tell us this news,” the king prompted, folding his arms over his muscular and richly decorated garment of silk. The rest of the guests, though looking weary and frightened, perched upon the edge of their seats, continued to listen with interest.
“As I said, I come from a time beyond this one, and I am here to say, and it is with great sorrow I bring these tidings, that the time to come is one of sorrow and sickness, poverty, squalor, filth and ignorance. Man has become complacent and degenerate. They don’t care any more, my lord, and as a result your once great society, castles and fortresses like this magnificent keep here, have fallen into ruin, abandoned and left to rot, or otherwise used as strongholds for the wicked and carnal. The glory of man has fallen. But it is not permanent. For you it has yet to happen, and therefore can still be directed and changed for a more pleasant and honorable outcome, one to be proud of, my lord. But this new world, this New Age shall not rise without work and toil. I have come from the time beyond to now, to this Middle Age to start man down the path of knowledge, to show him the wealth and beauty it can bring and inspire. And though I know it is a lot to except, for what obligation do you have to trust my words, and I come to you as a stranger to you and this land, I ask that you allow me to lead Man, these wonderful people, you my lord, into this new age, the age of knowledge and understanding. I ask, for the sake of your children that you do not become complacent and lazy, like my ancestors of old did, leaving us a legacy of shame and despair.”
Several moments of silence elapsed as the king and Melphrim looked at each other, a yearning hopefulness burning in Melphrim’s eyes, uncertainty in the king’s. “You tell a great tale master Melphrim.”
“Thank you my lord,” Melphrim said, bowing his head respectfully.
“But even you must understand it is difficult to believe. Even as you say, how can we trust you? You speak with great conviction, and your certainty makes me want to agree and follow you, if only out of sympathy. And I ask that you forgive me for thinking so evilly of you, for you do not strike me as such a man, but what conviction of my own do I have that you do not wish to use your tale to some how deceive me and gain my throne or that you have some agenda of deceit? Please do not think of me as selfish and craven to my seat of power for first assuming these thoughts, but you must understand that I love being the king of these wonderful people,” said the king spreading his arms wide, indicating the guests still seated around the oval dining table. “I enjoy being their leader, their sense of justice and loyalty. They rely on me, and I rely on them. We are happy and I do not wish to jeopardize that happiness with tall tales. What proofs can you show for your tales master Melphrim, that such a bleak and dire outcome shall transpire against us if we do not do as you ask?”
“My lord you are wise to consider that I may be telling the truth. It is more than I have yet received from other kings and I thank you for your kindness. As for proofs, I may provide them, if you will permit me to use my, ah, powers again?” Melphrim answered, hefting his staff from where it sat upright against the back of the chair in which he sat.
“Indeed you may.”
“Then if you will please direct your attention to the doors behind me, I shall show you a future that may be yours. Though before I begin, please understand that the images you see may not necessarily be a future you experience. Time is fickle and ever wandering. What was for me, which is what you shall see, may not be for you, though I believe, and as far as I have yet seen, it will transpire as so for this world too.”
The king nodded his understanding, gesturing towards the oak doors, indicating for Melphrim to proceed.
Rising from his chair, Melphrim turned to face the sixteen-foot tall lancet-arched oak doors. Raising his robed arms above his head, his staff still clutched in his left hand, Melphrim spoke in a tongue never before heard by any man in that room, and when he finished his chant, images, as clear as the day itself, presented themselves across the wood. Images so real that it looked as if the door had become a window into a new land. A land of gray bleakness, full of sickness and disease.

Men and women in shabby, stained clothes wandered the streets of a ruined town, the roads full of waste and filth. There was no happiness, there was no joy. Just misery and pain. Cruel overlords patrolled the disgusted alleys upon their regal steeds in ornate armour, beating and spitting upon the peasants. The strong ruled the weak through force. Man killed man for money and possessions. There was no honor or dignity.
The scene changed to that of the country side. A cold bleak, grey sky decorated the heavens. Men, thousands of them, marched in unison upon armoured horses, their lances set. They rode to war. They rode to claim what was not rightfully theirs but what they craved out of greed. The trees and grass withered under the clouded sky. Even the evil actions of man had infected the beauty of Nature, killing its wonder and glory.
Again the scene changed. It was a small room, round and filled with books of every imaginable size and topic. A table dominated the floor, so heavily laden with more books and scrolls and burning candles and wads of wax that not a single bare spot of wood could be seen. In fact the table was stacked many feet high with paper and debris. A lone man sat, glasses upon his face, a scroll in his hands, when the door burst open and many armoured men stormed in knocking candles and books aside. They grabbed the lone man by the arms and drug him from the room, throwing a torch amidst the knowledge bound in paper as the left. The imaged repositioned to show the building, nothing more than a small cottage, on a lonely hillside by the woods, as it was burned to the ground by the flames that illuminated the dark night around it.

Melphrim stemmed the flow of depressing and sorrowful images and looked with sadness in his eyes towards the king. “I could show you countless images like this my lord. Scene after scene of men who have forsaken knowledge and turn instead into beings more base than animals. The Man I know, the Man I left, my lord, is concerned with nothing except war. Each gains whatever his heart’s desire through violence and force. There is no desire for knowledge, no pursuit of understanding. Just carnage and lust. Forgive me for having lost hope on our kind my lord, but there is no saving them. That is why I come here, to this time, a time I believe where man is still young enough to learn, but not so ignorant as animals to see wisdom when it is shown to them. We are Men my lord, creatures created and blessed by a being that loved us enough to grant us a mind. And not just a mind like a rabbit or horse my lord, but a mind that can reason and learn. A mind that can come to understand and appreciate the wonders of the magnificent world around us. I believe Man is at its prime, my king, to begin in earnest the greatest study of its life, to learn about ourselves and our world. I beg that you heed my warning. I have tried so many times, and my faith wavers in Mankind.”
Again the king studied Melphrim for a time. For several minutes silence elapsed, a great uncomfortable silence as the king looked ponderously down at his folded hands upon the table, all eyes upon him as he thought. Finally one of the many gentlemen seated around the table stood up abruptly, toppling his chair backwards as he did so. “Forgive me my lord for being so forthright, but surely you do not consider to deny this man his wish? Can you not hear the truth in his voice, the great conviction and sadness with which he speaks? This is not the story of a lair or deceitful man, o king, but of a man desperate to save that which he holds dear. I for one intend to support this man in his quest, for his intents seem honest and worthy unto me.”
Slowly the king looked up from his hands, a stern look upon his face, as he gazed at the gentleman who so abruptly stood up. “No, my good Gardroh.” The king said solemly. A look of despair overcame Gardoh as he understood his folly at having overstepped his boundary as advisor and guest at the king’s side. “I do not consider to deny this man his wish.” A smile twitched across the king’s face, relief evident in Gardoh’s features as wel as he sat back down. “I too fully agree with this man’s quest. And though his tale is wild and difficult to believe, he has shown undeniable proofs. He has spoken truthfully and completely with us, even sharing any skepticism he might possess with us. No fool or liar would dare such things.” Looking unto Melphrim the king said, “I believe your story master Melphrim. And I believe I understand your sorrow, though none but you I fear may ever truly fathom its terrible depths. And none, I hope, shall ever have to again. What may I and the people of my kingdom do for you?”
A smile of elation spread wide upon Melphrim’s face as he sank into his chair, a single tear of happiness spilling from his eye. There might be some hope for mankind yet he thought.

'Hey Ogmund - check this out!' Kiara swallowed the huge chunk of pastry she had been luxuriating in chewing, leaned closely towards her skald friend's ear, her blue eyes alive with dancing mischievous sparks, and, ignoring the disapproving growl of her faithful hound, who lay dozing in the firelight at her feet, half-whispered, half-sang, almost burying her face in Ogmund's mangy mane of grey hair,


We drink to our youth,
To days come and gone,
For the elven oppression
Is just about done!
We will drive out the Thalmor
From this land that we own,
With our blood and our steel
We will take back our home!
Dominion's agents,
You aren't our kings!
In honour of Talos
We drink and we sing!


'The ending is same as always,' she concluded, drawing away from the old skald and allowing herself to raise her voice to its usual cheerfully shrill pitch. Me and my friends at the Bards' College made it up, all by ourselves! Boy, was Vjarmo angry at us - because we kept everyone awake for hours, in the dead of night! They say brilliant ideas always come in the dead of night, but then again, I don't know if this is really that brilliant an idea; I need your opinion on this first... Personally, I never quite liked all that drive out thing - for me, peaceful life all together is the way to go. But I still think it's pretty groovy!'

Ogmund checked her flow of speech with a good-natured pat on the shoulder, the look of his only eye both amused and a little concerned, 'One thing I can say for sure, lass: if you ever sing this in the streets of Markarth, Ondolemar will finally have someone to roast at the stake'.



Kiara's expression remained blank. 'Ondole-who?' she asked innocently.

Ogmund made a vague gesture. 'You know - the head Thalmor here. Skulks around the Keep all day, plotting ways to hunt down every last true son and daughter of Skyrim. Been after me for a while now, but I will see these Dwemer towers turn to sand before he lays his accursed elven claws on me'.



'Ah, him,' Kiara said slowly, her face lighting up with understanding as her mind conjured up the image of the tall robed figure, the haughty countenance, the broad stride of gilded boots across the stone floor of the Keep, the hard glint of amber-coloured eyes from beneath a dark hood. 'Yeah, I think I bumped into him once or twice - but that's it. I try to steer clear of the Thalmor - they don't smile back when you smile at them; and for me, that's a serious symptom. About the only business I ever have with them is saving their prisoners every now and then'.



As Kiara chuckled at her own words, the familiar evening noises of the Silver-Blood Inn - the clutter of tableware, the monotonous scraping of Hroki's broom, the muffled hum of drowsy conversation, and, of course, the occasional acid remarks that Kleppr and his wife fired at each other like duelling mages - suddenly died down, silenced by a piercing gust of icy wind that came rushing through the half-open door and sent a proverbial shiver down the spine of each of the inn's regulars, even though the weather outside was unusually warm for this time of year in Skyrim. Ogmund, who sat with his back towards the entrance, turned his head slightly to be able to look over his shoulder with his sighted eye; Kiara, nestled snugly in a chair opposite Ogmund's, strained her neck to see what was going on, for the skald was blocking her view; the hound at her feet stirred and pricked up his ears; almost instantly, the three of them, as well as the other inn regulars and the bewildered Kleppr, located the source of the penetrating chill.

It was certainly not a thing you saw every day - a Thalmor soldier deigning to leave the Keep and coming down to the local inn, of all places. The air seemed to grow dense with mute questions as the gold-armoured mer hovered on the threshold, his lips curled up in a grimace of disgust - as if he was reluctant to step forward for fear of getting his precious self dirty. Finally, he spoke, 'Which of you humans is Kiara the Redguard sellsword?'



Ogmund frowned and muttered through gritted teeth, 'Damn stuck-up elf. He can see perfectly well from where he stands that you lass are the only Redguard in the room. Must be showing us that human races all look the same to him'.

Kiara shrugged the old skald's hushed soliloquy off, too curious to find out what the Thalmor soldier wanted with her, and, leaping lightly from her chair, trotted up to him, followed at a small distance by the yawning, scratching, rather reluctant hound. For a few seconds, they scrutinized each other in silence, Kiara with her customary ear-to-ear grin of greeting, which she was ready to share with practically any inhabitant of Skyrim, the Thalmor with a look of disdainful incredulity, and the dog with a distrustful twitch of his nose and a small snarl.



'Kiara the Redguard sellsword,' the soldier repeated at length, clearly taken aback by the young human's cheerful, almost child-like expression - something which does not usually go with a calling such as hers.


'That's me!' Kiara's grin grew several degrees broader. 'Though I also go in for magic a little - I take a course at the College of Winterhold, in Alteration, Restoration, and basic Destruction and Illusion... no Conjuration for me, oh no! Making dead bodies do things for you... that's way too gross! Anyway, what I was trying to say is - this kind of ought to make me a spell-sellsword... or a sell-spellsword...'

The soldier's left eyebrow twitched in a not too promising way.

'You are to come with me to the Keep,' he said dryly. 'Justiciar Ondolemar wants to have a word with you'.



'So, what happened to steering clear of the Thalmor?' the dog asked quietly, climbing up one of Markath's many flights of stone steps in Kiara's wake.

'Hush, Barbas,' she replied light-heartedly, 'You know I contradict myself all the time... And besides, I've always been curious how long it might take to make friends with one of these guys.'

As the story was told by my Grandfather and his Grandfather and his Grandfather before him:

The Raven has two eyes, one on the past and one on the future so its path will always fly straight.

One day in the village, the raven landed on the chief’s longhouse, calling out to him. The raven said that bad things were coming and hard times would soon be upon the village. Indeed so it was, the lands had grown dry, the fish were leaving the waters and many of the children lay sick in their homes. But the sickness had begun spreading to even the strongmen, the hunters.

The raven looked down from his perch on the longhouse. “The Great Mystery is cross with the two legs! Some among you have taken more from the water than you needed!” The raven said. “A great sickness will come and every man, woman and child will die unless the Great Mystery is appeased!” The raven cackled.

The chief looked up at the Raven, his eyes full of worry for his people. “What may we do to appease the creator?” The chief asked hoping for answers.

The raven looked down at the people his eyes seeing the future but far from clearly. “The great mystery is just that, a mystery!” The raven said flying into the sky and leaving the people with this omen.

The chief told his beloved daughter and his people to be calm and to care for their sick, in the hope that answers would come to them soon. He spoke: “I am Tayee of this villiag, I will find the medicine that we need!” He said from atop the hill where his longhouse was.

The sickness spread, taking many of the strongmen, not even the great Chief’s daughter was spared. He lay sick and dying in their home. She knew he would not survive another night. The chief gathered his people and spoke to them: “I have asked the creator for help and the elders for guidance, and still our people are dying.” He said, his daughter could only hope that her father had found a medicine, an answer of any kind.

An old man walked into the village, he was old and far seeing. This old man had never come to the wedding feasts or the sand dance. He had lived always apart from the people and some believed he had long ago taken the journey to the other side. The old man stopped in front of the people, looking at them as they looked at him in wonder.

“I have lived one hundred summers and one hundred winters,” The old man began. “I do not even know how old I am anymore.” He said. “But I know this, I have been kept alive for a reason and from where the sun has risen I know why. My father was a shaman among the Chinook, when I was a boy fishing in the rivers he told me a grave sickness would befall the people, everyone, every man and child would die, unless the Great Mystery could be appeased.” The old man said gravely.
The chief looked up and spoke. “What must be offered?”

“A daughter of the headman, a daughter of he is or was chief.” The old man said. “She must go to the cliff above the sacred river and give her soul back to the earth, back to the creator, and when this is done, the sickness will leave this land. I have spoken it is so. I have told my father’s secret and now I will take the journey to the other side.” He said walking back to the hill he had come from far from the village.

Honoring the words of the old man the daughters of all chiefs, all headmen, came down to the center fire. The women and the people were scared, for one of them had to die.

“I have made my decision.” The chief spoke. “No woman will be asked to take the journey to the other side. We shall meet death with courage. “ The chief said, the people began to cry in outrage for they feared death. The old man held up his hand. “Council is ended, return to your camps.” He said.

That night the chief’s daughter went home, to tend to her sick husband. “All will be well, my wife. Do not worry, the sickness will pass like the wind on the water and soon. If I die, I go bravely.” He said, closing his eyes from fatigue.

The chief’s daughter loved her husband, as she loved her father and as she loved her people. She could not bear to see them die when there was something she could do about it. She left the village heading for the cliff above the sacred river, when she reached the top she stopped and looked over the valley. She spoke to the creator. “Creator, I stand up here before you, your daughter. I don’t want to leave, but if I do, will you make this sickness pass quickly from the people? If you accept me, give me a sign, show it to me in the sky.” The chief’s daughter pleaded from high above the river. It was slow but the sun was covered by darkness, and the day became night, she had her sign. She fell from the top of the cliff, for it was her duty to her people and she died gladly to save those she loved
.
When the sun rose over the water, so did the sick of the village. Slowly the strength of the people returned to them and they were healthy once more, the waters ran clear and pure once more and life returned to the land, it was truly a sacred happening. The people did not know what had brought this blessing, the husband came to the chief and asked him if he had seen his daughter, when the chief had not they left for the cliff with great speed.

When they finally reached the top, they saw that her shell necklace lie broken on the ground. The chief weeped and called out to the Great Mystery. “Creator, my daughter has taken the journey for us, show me that you have received her into the other world. I beg of you.” The chief said.

When the chief spoke, his words carried to the wind and a great flow of water poured down from the cliffs above the sacred river and made the river flow strong and pure. The water stayed for many summer moons and the people remember why. It was the pure-hearted sacrifice of a young woman for the lives of her people.