Days 3-5 Part 2: The Stoppable McGonian

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One day, I will hatch a terrible plot that I shall then discard without another thought.

As I stare down at the back of a hulking gray giant wielding a small tree trunk as a club, I know that day has yet to come.

Days 3-5 Part 1: A Terrible Idea

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And that brings us to the present tense. Almost. Since my last entry I have relocated to somewhere less hospitable and far colder.

Day 2, Part 2: Warmaidens

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Whiterun isn’t far, right? No. Not at all. I can practically see it from around the bend! That dragon won’t return, will he? No. Certainly not.

Okay. My nerves got the better of me. I laid more septims on the trader’s table than I had first intended. Potions, spare pieces of leather – by the end of it I had a little over one hundred septims remaining. All of my backbreaking labor for a few vials and skins. Still, I needed to stitch together a tent to keep the rain off. Of course, I won’t find enough leather for one between Riverwood and Whiterun, but I figured I’d finish it once safely behind Whiterun’s walls. I consider telling Gerdur and Hod where I’m going and thanking them for their hospitality. I reconsider when I realize they probably knew by now that I was the one who took their bow. Instead, I shoulder my pack and get going at a brisk pace, foregoing a long teary goodbye to the village that had so briefly been my home.

Day 2: Trick Shot

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A rooster crowing woke me up at 6am sharp. The sun had risen on my first full day after the trauma of Helgen. I made a mental note to kill and eat that bird as well. With growling stomach and parched throat, I sit up in bed and stare at the wall in front of me.

Had I known where I would be spending the next night, I would have crawled back in bed and slept another four hours. Alas, I possess no powers of clairvoyance. I rise, do some stretches, then sit down at the table to eat some pheasant and wash it down with a glass of wine. I could be having breakfast in the common room, but I find solitude more pleasant company than a room full of nords. Sure, it was early, but the other patrons were likely drunk already. Then again, I couldn’t talk. I finished my wine, got dressed and headed for the bath.

Day 1: The First Day of my Life

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Ah, what I wouldn’t give for the imbeciles in the room adjacent to quiet down and allow me a moment’s rest. It’s cold here, even indoors. I miss my daily swims in the warmer waters of Cyrodiil. As I cannot sleep, I have decided to pass the time writing. At first I wished to give my account of the dragon attack to the Jarl in Helgen. The nord did not require a written statement. Some lizard in roughspun walking into his audience chamber claiming to have seen a dragon is trustworthy enough. In case you’re wondering if I have spontaneously located a sense of duty and rightness in reporting the incident to the proper authorities, I agreed to it to fool a guard. Worry not!