Song of Silverdrift

A stone's throw from Nightgate,

North of Whiterun lay,

Silverdrift - amidst the mist

and dawning of the day.

.

Woe betide to those who try

and wander to and fro,

for at the gates of Siverdrift

are those who'd call you 'foe'.

.

But woe betided on the day

to bandits therewithin,

For Talos smiled upon my blade,

and sent them to their kin.

.

I strode inside and found that day

a wide and vast display,

of blood and gore and little more,

than wanderer's dismay.

.

For in that dark enclosure was,

and I say this with no jest,

draugr standing glumly over,

a bandit's caverned chest.

.

I dispatched him with a swing

and quickly there departed,

like a skeever through a maze

I felt guided, truly carted,

.

Barred doors and winding floors

pushed me to a goal,

like farmer would to slaughter

send a ripened foal.

.

No foal was I, nor fool,

as quickly was then seen,

as I hacked and slashed my wayward path,

traversing the ravine.

.

I found at last the final cell,

where ancient kings resided,

on pedestal burned books layed,

the past and now divided.

.

For their knowledge, surely key,

in forgotten pages lay,

destroyed by their forgotten fools,

misguided in their ways.

.

no mage from here to High Rock,

could now revive the words,

so I walked along my wayward path,

and heard the singing birds.

.

For I had left the lair's grasp

and re-emerged outside.

I left the dead to bury the dead,

no sympathy resides.

.

For a stone's throw from Nightgate,

North of Whiterun lay,

Silverdrift - amidst the mist,

and dawning of the day.

.

.

by Seiðmaðr the Skald, 4e 201.