Chapter Text
[The date is smudged, possibly by a hand. Something was written below the date, smudged in the same manner. Possibly an important note. The handwriting itself is spidery and thin, but neat enough to read.]
I have been asked to write this journal by a historian in our group, as a sort of documentation in this time of war. At first I didn't see why - any official documentation would have served just as well, if not better than this- but I came to realize how a viewpoint of one whom had been there at this time of war that our people are going through. Besides it may prove beneficial to have a place to put my thoughts.
To put it simply, this time is one of bloodshed. The Nords that sailed here, to this land of cold, had begun to build a capital. We fought with them much beforehand, but upon finding out that these humans possessed the Eye of Magnus, my people finally took it upon themselves to burn Saarthal. I know not if the Eye was recovered, or if it was simply rumour spread by the humans. We have far more pressing matters at hands these days.
We have been driven to battle on Solstheim, some accursed frozen island by these Nords. Our people on the mainland have had their resistance stomped out, and now we are what remains of an organized attempt against these Nords. Tomorrow is the day we change the tides of this war- here, at the foot of Mosering, our Snow Prince will ride on his white stallion and charge the ranks of the Nords, downing any in his path. He will assure victory for us, will he not? For he is our Snow Prince, and he will win us back the land we rightfully own.
I pray to Auri-El that all will go to our glorious plan. I have full confidence that it will. I cannot wait to tell the tale of this day to my loved ones waiting for me in home camp. They are worried I will be harmed out here- nonsense. “I am a healer, I stay in the medical tent,” I tell them, “and not even filthy humans would dare to attack a medical tent.” I have sent them letters whenever possible, and I promised one after the battle tomorrow.
They will be overjoyed to hear of our winning. The mountains will run red with the blood of Nords. I will soon be off this rock that feels fouly wrong, and I will return to Mereth with my family, to help the efforts there.
Speaking of the foulness here, Solstheim feels distinctly wrong to me. I can nearly taste some sort of old magic that was here. It does not feel right at all, and I do not enjoy it. I also do not care to find out why it feels so wrong here, although I know I could ask our master historian on the matter, but I feel that would only worsen the feeling.
Regardless, tomorrow will dawn bright. I shall rest, and write again when I can.