A Hearth-Fire Tale

Drop the ax and sit up son, time for a different instruction this time. Let your old father tell you the tale of your grandfather’s grandfather. Many a ignorant Nord would tell you that all those braids were falsely achieved and that all that your grand-grand… is it grand-grandfather Fjori? Alright, your grand-grandfather did was a lie either made up by him or by his school to make a name for itself. Do not believe these fools, son. Some of it is indeed exaggerated by now, but all hold truth in its words.

He was born around the city we now live in, while it was but a few buildings grouped together to fight off the wind that continuously threatened to lift the houses from the ground, while the city was extremely poor and ill-kept, but he was proud of it, although his mind was set for higher places. As soon as his beard started growing, he took off to see the expanse of Tamriel… you do not dare to leave here, son, I need you at least until next season, and don’t give me that “you've said that last season” look, anyway, he set off to see the world.

He was an adventurer, like your uncle used to be before he got himself killed, and probably rode horses as good as your uncle, to have covered such breadth of land in so little years. From his early years he is known to have found cities lost for hundreds of years, forgotten since the times of the Dragon Cult rule, to have fought undead Dragon Priests across Skyrim, collecting their masks and magical artefacts as prizes, as well as plundering many of the ancient unsacred tombs, collecting all manner of artefacts from them, and mind that, it becomes important later on.

Okay, it may become important already. So, he began wondering about the nature of those artefacts he had been collecting, which were in great number by then, he pondered what gave those artefacts such power, what was the nature of that power and what provided the energy for it, curious as every Nord, but he went further and, pay attention to this now, that’s the most important part, and he went further and started actually going after the explanations to those things instead of just ignoring them over a mug of ale, you should be like him, not drink yourself to death as your uncle, and stay home to take care of your father, you’ll see what happens to you if you don’t. And to find those explanations and answers, he travelled even further, and, against any kind of wisdom, ended up in the homeland of the High Elves down south, where it is hot all year and where the people do not even know how the ground looks like for they never point those noses down enough to see it.

But he kept his true roots while there, learning from the elvish mages and wizards, the… sigics, Fjori? Oh who gives a damn, only those milk-drinking elves know how to pronounce that, and besides, the names are not the important part, being introduced in the clever crafts of all sorts, and mastering each of them arts one by one, to the point of impressing and surpassing his elven masters until there was nothing left for him to learn of plunder in their islands, and so he set off to wander once more. My father told me that he actually had quite an argument with the elves, enough to tear an island off the bigger ones, like Solstheim was once part of Skyrim, and then he proceeded to claim that island as his own, only to piss’em elves even more, you should learn to do that as well… no of course not tearing an island off! Piss off the elves, although if you could make a nice island for your father to rest I would be very grateful, you know, not trying to suggest anything… stop distracting me! Back to the tale!

After learning with the elves, he started developing even more his craft, and got a thirst for knowledge that would never be sated. He started travelling even further and wider, not leaving a single stone unturned in the whole of Tamriel. He wanted to know everything. And all while growing more and more in arcane power. Soon his knowledge and mastery of magic and wizardry surpassed that of any one on the face of Nirn. But there was more yet to know. During his times, the Dwarves were still around, hiding out in their subterranean cities, hiding their secrets gods-know how deep under the surface, and he wanted that knowledge. Now, if you want to go out exploring those ruins, you better die to them cursed spiders, or else I’ll kill you myself!

So back to the Dwarves, I've got my eye on you, don’t forget, he eventually ended up in Hammerfell, where, with the help of an artefact of great power, a shield said to reflect any kind of foul magic back to the wizard, that he found in his previous travels - or if there was something… otherworldly involved, he never shared -, and he managed to defeat endless legions of them Dwarves and their cursed machines, all single-armed! And when all had fell to his might, he took all of their deepest secrets for himself, and that’s why you don’t see any more Dwarves around, so thank him the next you think about it. And he made a habit out of it, he would go to every place he could reach in search for ancient lost knowledge or knowledge never lost for it was never known, and he would take it for himself, and add it to the vast libraries of knowledge and secrets he had within his head.

But there came a time when he thought he had already learned enough, and that he should further his studies on what he already knew before he set out to learn more, and also, he started to feel that emptiness in his bed every night, as I hope you soon feel as well, son, your father’s old already and I want to teach my grandchildren to properly use an ax, something I don’t think you will ever do, and he thought it was time to return home.

When he returned to his village, the Nords could not look on him without seeing an Owl. Jhunal had returned to Skyrim! They said, the long absent god had returned to take them out of their misery, and so they followed his footsteps, building a great college dedicated to the learning of the magical arts and the study of anything worth studying, and he did not even need to order them to do so, without so much as a whisper the villagers started building the academy out of their own will and the inspiration he gave them, and most of the village became his first apprentices, and soon his fame spread throughout Skyrim, making more and more people seek the village to either become his apprentices or to sell their trade around the college. But he would not take just anyone under his teaching, for he, in his vast wisdom, knew that magic should not be used by the common folk, or the stupid, not that I mean you of course, that thick skull of yours wouldn't even know when I'm calling you stupid, and so he was very selective of who could learn and who couldn't. His methods for testing his apprentices were said to be almost perfect, but the technique was lost not long after he was gone, and now they take just about anyone that can shoot a fireball at the ground… the city cemetery tells us how effective it is…

And so the city started growing, and it grew and grew until it outsized the city of Ysgramor, and not long after became the center of all trade, scholarship and politics of Skyrim, and you better remember that the next time you “want to go out and see the world”, either way, as the city grew, he learned that the only thing he yet needed was a wife, as every Nord should, and he found one among the new comers to the city. Some say she had the beauty of the Moth, some say she had her abilities in bed, enough to catch his attention, and at first they were very happy and their family grew, but soon he remembered his unfinished research and the love he had for it, and started holing himself into his tomes and books, to the point of not realizing his wife had left him because he hardly ever gave her notice, so holed up he was. I wish I had some research to do so your mother would leave me and get off my back… nothing sweetheart! Only telling him how good you are with an ax! You don’t say a word to her.

But he did not stop, for the more you know, the more you need to know, and that is why every lad should be careful with knowledge, it’s always good to have some, but be wary of knowing too much. As his academy grew, and his years started showing, he started to look towards the horizon, to make preparations so his legacy would remain and that all he built was going to be kept safe, and he holed himself up more so than ever, deep within the reaches of long abandoned Bromjunaar, and there he built a labyrinth, in the form of an hourglass, but with no exit! Don’t even try to think about it, son, you’ll only get a headache. Just more proof of his geniality! Don’t give me that look, would you be able to do something like that? I highly doubt it. And he made it a place to test all the Archmages, which is actually a title he created, did you know that?, that came after him, and only those who passed his trials would be fit to direct the academy, although it seems that practice has been abandoned after the many candidates who entered and were never found.

But he also started looking at his own troubles, and the matter of his imminent death. For even a mage as powerful as him will be called by Shor to take part of his ever-lasting feast. But he was afraid of leaving his domain left to the ignorant oafs that could erode all he had worked so hard on building. And so he set his sight higher than anything he had done previously. He set off, as his last great task, to steal the secret of the gods themselves. And he succeeded. No one is even remotely sure how, and neither did he tell anyone what he had to do to ensure his success, but he managed to find the secret of life and how to remain an active part of our reality even after he had gone to be with Shor. And so, if Tamriel is ever in his need, he will be back to save it from turmoil, and if you are ever in need, maybe he will come to your aid as well, for he is ever watchful of both the offspring of his mind and of his body’s offspring, so never fear, for he will always be there as your last resort, and if he doesn't show up, then you’ll know you yet have an exit.

Some say he took the place of the Owl and that is why he was able to do such a thing, others say he was the Owl the whole time, some others say that he became a different god altogether, and a few ignorant buffoons say it is all a lie, but you know not to believe them.

We may not be from Ysgramor’s line, but we are of an equally important Nord Hero, so don’t be afraid to say “I am an heir of the most important Mage who ever lived, and he was a proud Nord, as I am”. What? His name? Of course I know his name! Don’t you dare speak to me like that again! Me! Forgetting the names of my ancestors! Bah! His name was… it was… Ska… no, Shan… Sha… Shor’s Bones what was that snowback’s name! Shalidor! Thank you Fjori! At least for this she is useful… nothing sweetheart! So, next time someone asks, you tell them "I am a proud heir of Shalidor, the greatest mage and one of the greatest Nords who ever lived". And case they mock you, tell them you have learned some of his tricks and will turn them into a horker or something, that’ll put them in their places.