Looking down upon the quaint village of Riverwood, I have a moment of rest. I have just escaped the chopping block of the Imperial soldiers. This is my homeland, though this is my first visit. I came of age in a land called Cyrodil, just to the south, but that is inconsequential.
     As I made my way north, I was captured by Imperials and accused of being part of a group named Stormcloaks. I am just a simple traveler, but they would hear none of it. I was placed in a wagon with Ulfric, the head of the Stormcloaks. We reached a town by the name of Helgen, where they put my head on the chopping block. Just before the axeman brought his death upon me, a dragon from the old legends came fourth and started raining down horrible fire. I was there, and I hardly believe it myself!
    In the confusion, I fled. With the help of my newfound friend, Rolaf, we fought our way through the Imperial army, and frostbite spiders, to emerge on the other side of the mountains.  He led us to this village where his sister lives. I have met the local Blacksmith, as well as the town shopkeep. I’m trying to keep a low profile because I am a wanted man now.
    Rolaf has suggested I make my way northeast to a city named Windhelm, to join with the Stormcloak army. Gerdur (his sister) has asked that I leave at once to Whiterun, and inform the Jarl of the impending doom. I believe I will be heading for Whiterun. These fine people have helped me in a time of need, and I shall return the favor. This Nord shall remain in nobody’s debt.
    I shall keep this journal while on my journey. If anyone should find it, please seek out my family in the city of Bruma and tell them of my demise. If my body is near the journal, please take the bear claw from around my neck and seek out Olav, in Olav’s Tap and Tack. He will notify you on how to reach my family.