So I picked up this old thing while at the store here in Riverwood. It still seems a little trivial, writing in this book, after everything I've just seen.
Crossing the border to Skyrim I stumbled across a raid and was mistaken for a rebel soldier. The Imperial Legion called them Stormcloaks. I was arrested, and though I thought they might realise their mistake, I soon realised the land of my birth had gone to hell. One thing I learned a long time ago is that when there is a war going on, you can't really talk a soldier out of anything.
They took us to a little fortified town called Helgen. Along the way a man named Ralof told me of how there was a civil war in Skyrim, with the Stormcloak rebels trying to break the land free from the Empire. There was another man with us who Ralof claimed was the Stormcloak leader, Ulfrik Stormcloak, supposedly the Jarl of Windhelm. Let me clarify; I am Nord by birth but was raised in Cyrodiil. After my father died I decided to return to Skyrim and see it for myself; I had not been there since I was a baby, so I still don't know much more than I learned from my father. I had been travelling for 3 months when I was picked up by the Legion.
After we arrived at Helgen we were lined up for the headman's axe. Several people seemed unhappy at this sight; apparently this Ulfrik guy is some sort of heroic visionary. If there is one thing I do know, visionary is just another word for madman, but then it is the Imperials putting my head on the block. I've never had so many thoughts run through my head at any one time, and despite that I thought of Sovngarde, the place my father told me all Nords go after death. And that's when the dragon attacked.
So they say they aren't real, or that they went extinct; tell those who died at Helgen dragons aren't real. Needless to say the executions were 'put on hold' so to speak, as the Imperials scrambled to repel a threat they clearly had no means of defending against. Ulfrik was gone, and in the confusion Ralof knocked a guard out and freed us both. He led me to the keep where we were safe for the time being.
Of course while safe from the dragon, we still had the Imperials that wanted us dead, and though I knew little of Ralof and the Stormcloaks, for now I felt like I could trust him; as I said earlier, it was the Imperials putting my head to the block for nothing, not the Stormcloaks. And so I went with him as we tried to escape. Inside we found a dead Stormcloak, a man named Gunjar, a friend of Ralof. He gave me his gear, some light raiment and a nice sword for protection. Good thing as well, as two Imperials tried to apprehend us. I did not relish in spilling the blood of another man, and for my sake I hope nobody ever reads this, but in a choice of life and death I will choose life every time, Talos preserve us. Though if you choose life then you have to live it, and that's what led us to Riverwood.
After we escaped we ended up here. Ralof had a sister, Gerdur, who ran the mill here. She and her husband took me in as if I were family. I owe those people my life, and my life brings me to now. I've been here almost 3 weeks, and I still can't believe the things I saw. I'm not entirely sure what you do with yourself after all that; to Sovngarde I guess, but life comes first, even when the world has gone to hell. The owner of the shop here told me of a group of bandits who stole an antique claw from him. Their lair is nearby, maybe I'll check it out...