Saga of the Dragon War: Part One, Skyrim in Those Days

Some Apocrypha I've been thinking up on the Dragon War, the Priests, First Tongues, etc.

SAGA OF THE DRAGON WAR

This incredibly ancient text, recently sent to the Imperial Library from a hidden vault under Winterhold, seems to have been written down in the early 6th century of the First Era by an anonymous Nordic skald seeking to record the legendary Dragon War, ancient even in those days. As such we must consider it inaccurate in several respects as a historical resource, though it makes a good read, one must admit. Translated Year 87 of the Fourth Era under Empress Morihatha the Second, by Valerio Laertius of the Imperial Geographical Society

I am the last of a long line. Through my life I have sought, as my fathers have done since days long forgotten and ages long since past, to keep alive the memory of the war between Dovah and Man. My wives and sons have walked the whale's-way years past; never shall I tell the sagas to my grandchildren that my grandfather told to me, that his grandfather told to him, that his grandfather learned at the knee of his grey-bearded elder. In fickle writing I must put them down ere my eyes grow too cloudy to see and my hand grows too weak to scribe. In the scripts of the Dov and Men I shall write them, and take them to the Clevermen of Wintershold that they may preserve them till the World-Eater wakes once more.

Of Skyrim In Those Days

O Gods of the Old Time open your mouths so that we may hear and see those days as they occurred! Quicken our hearts that they may beat as Hakon's when he hewed down the karstaag-men of Falkreath with the Axe of Ysgramor no man has wielded since; quicken our eyes so that we may see the fires of the Sack of Bromjunaar, where the Glorious was laid low; quicken our ears so we can hear the sky-rending Voices of the first and greatest Tongues as they roared defiance in the face of Alduin Bane of Kings! Dibell and Jhunal and Kyne the Mother-Wind heed our call, O Gods whose totems came with Ysgramor from the green shores of Atmora and the shadow of the Ash-Bough! Moth and Owl and Hawk, come help us tell of those days when Bromjunaar was burned; when Solstheim was sundered; when the World-Eater himself was laid low!

In the days of which I shall tell, there were nine Holds in the Sky's Rim as there are now, and from west to east you shall be told of them. In the furthest West was the city Ragnvald that is now abandoned, and from there we rode out against the western savages and made slaves of them, and dug from the earth gold and silver and precious moon's-stone and took it to Bromjunaar the City of Kings. North-east of that was Haavnheim, bounded South by the Reachwater and North by the ghostly Sea – and there was Mount Volskygge whence ruled VOLSUNG the Sky-Horror looking out from his icy palace over a city affeared of his magics. East from that were Kilkreath where the sea-eagles would roost at dawnbreak and sing sad songs to the Sun (it is said that the dovah who roosted on that mountain, named JUNMORLAAS, was not truly of the Dov but a Prince of Oblivion in disguise; but I am no judge of that tale) and small Solitude built on Olaf's Bridge.

South of Haavnheim was BROMJUNAAR, City of Kings and Queen of Cities. The pride of all mankind she was in those days! A hundred man-heights high and fifty wide her walls were, and on the walls were seventeen towers where dov would roost, and inside her walls were high towers that tickled Kyne. Nine gates she had, six to north and three to south – of iron and steel and moon's-stone and bronze and red-iron and maulach-glass and orc-iron and ebony from the Red Mountain and pure gold. Eclipsing Saarthal-burnt-in-treachery (curse the Snow Elves forevermore!) she was. On every mountain around the dov roosted, and the sight of them was common in those days. In a great palace built into the mountainside dwelt the Glorious; a mighty Dragon-Priest skilled above all others in Voice and Clever-Craft; gifted by Jhunal the Owl who writes the decrees of the Gods and is their messenger, and there the Dragon Priests would meet in hidden counsels.

Of all the lands Bromjunaar ruled the most. Over all the country from Olaf's Bridge northward to Whiteriver Hill southward, from Hroldan westward to Valtheim eastward she held dominion. Wealthy she was above all others from the tributes she exacted from all Skyrim, and from the caravans that passed through her bringing goods on the great royal road. To the north-east of Bromjunaar Hold was Strunmiraad (or Storm Gate in the language of Men) on a hill overlooking the Ghost Sea, ruled over by VOKUN the Shadowed One and settled in the earliest days of leaving behind the Atmora; and it ruled all the northern coast to the east of the Reachwater. South was Valthumm which possessed the southern kreath-land from Altbal to the foot of MONAHVEN. East is Eastmark, a land where ice and fire mingle with many places of power – there they say the earth's blood goes closer to the surface, and there are many hot springs. There were built Revakheim-under-the-eagle, the sky-temple Skuldafn (which no Man has ever laid eyes on, and of which all the Men who constructed it were flung from the cliffs so that they could not tell others where it had been raised up) and greatest of all Windhelm Cloaked-in-Storms, City-of-Ysgramor.

South of that were the two Holds; Forelhost-of-black-battlements and NIMALTEN which sits at the foot of grey-bearded Hrothgar, the Snow-Throat of Skyrim. And easternmost was forest-clad Solstheim, ruled over from the town Ravnkreath and rich in Shor's-blood. From its eastern cliffs one could see the Red Isle of the dwarf-devils in Dunkreath.

And in that age long ago we were ruled by the Dragon Priests who worshipped the great dovah, brother-sons of the AL-DU-IN who roosted on mountains across fair Skyrim. Greedy were the priests, who taxed us unfairly; who took the best of our harvests, and our cattle, and our gold and silver, and our young sons as slaves and our comely daughters as bed-mates; and the dragons took sport in attacking our villages, killing where they would for fun and the pleasure of taking dominance.

So one by one, our kings and chieftains rebelled, and made war on the Priests – but the Dov and their servants Shouted them down and broke their strength, and our tears flowed like the White River, for how could we best the Dov and their servants if their Voice could conquer us so easily? Our dream of Liberty was snow in the summer.

Then, HE came to us.