Birth and Rebirth

Disclaimer

The world in which this story exists and the game mods used to create it do not belong to me. Should you recognize any of the names, places, or ideas used, please give the original creators credit. Thank you.

Chapter One: Birth and Rebirth

My name is Brynjar, and I am a Nord. I was born on Middas 13 of Last Seed, 4E 185. My mom, Adina, Is the greatest adventurer Tamriel has ever seen. She travels the world helping people, exploring ruins, and slaying monsters. Even after I was born, that didn't slow her down. She takes me everywhere she goes. I have seen so many places and met so many people. The world really is a big place. On my 12th birthday, Mom crafted a bow for me and started teaching me marksmanship. She is the best with a bow and arrow and never misses her mark. The monsters we encounter on our travels give me plenty of chances to practice. I hope I can become as good as she is one day. Oh, you're probably wondering what I look like, right? Well, I have dirty blond hair like my dad and emerald green eyes like my mom. She says I look like a typical Nord. Speaking of Dad, I don't know much about him. Mom says he died on a job they did together, but I feel like she is hiding something from me. All I know is I never met the guy.

Mom and I have been all over Tamriel from Elsweyr and Morrowind to High Rock and Summerset Isle. The Khajit are fun to hang out with, and the Argonians are pretty cool too. The Bretons are nice and hearty, but the Redguards don't seem so friendly to outsiders. I don't like the elves. They're arrogant and think they are better than everyone else. They even force the Khajit and Argonians into slavery; I mean, how cruel is that. I'm 14 now, and Mom decided that it was time to return to our homeland, Skyrim. It's an ice-cold continent, but I love it all the same. Mom is a Nord through and through, as she teaches me all of our people's ancient customs. My favorite is the tale of the Dragonborn. A human who can talk like dragons is beyond insane. I wonder If I will ever see a dragon someday. As we got close to the border, my mom told me to be careful. Skyrim has become very dangerous since the Great War. Mom told me all about the White-Gold Concordat and how no one is allowed to worship Talos. Not to mention all the fighting in Bravil. We made sure to steer clear of that place.

Mom took me around Skyrim and told me about the different holds, the Jarls, and High King Torygg. I don't think she likes him too much. Everything seemed to be going okay so far until we met them; the Thalmor, walking around in their shiny gold armor and snooty robes. Mom told me that the elf in the black robes is a Justiciar, a high-ranking member of the Thalmor. He noticed the Talos amulet around my mom's neck. She was a devout follower of Talos, and she taught me all of his teachings. The Justiciar told us that if we came quietly, he promised to go easy on us. Mom refused as she readied her bow. "I was hoping you would do that," he said as he sent his gold armored soldiers after us. Before they could draw their weapons, Mom felled them in two quick shots. The Justiciar pulled a nasty trick and shot what looked like a shiv made out of ice at me. I thought I was done for, but Mom jumped in front of me. It hit her in a vital spot, and she started bleeding a lot. The filthy High Elf smirked as she winced in pain.

"Mom, please don't leave me! What will I do without you?!"

"My son, you must promise that you will never lose your way. You are a kind boy who has seen more of this world than most of our kin. Promise me that you will not fall prey to their prejudice and narrow-minded thinking."

"I promise, Mom. I will make Skyrim a better place for everyone, not just the Nords."

"Thank you…"

She died in my arms. "Mom, I promise you, I will make the Thalmor pay for this, EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM." The Justiciar just sat there and laughed with that smug look on his face. I grabbed my mother's bow and shot an arrow straight at his face. The arrow pierced his right eye, and blood came spewing out. The elf screamed in pain. "WHO'S LAUGHING NOW ASSHOLE!!!!" I ran toward the justiciar, picked up one of his fallen soldier's golden swords, and stabbed the filthy elf right in the heart. He died instantly, and his corpse fell to the ground. I stood there, the lone survivor soaked in the blood of my fallen enemy. "On this day, I make an oath that I will free this land from the stranglehold of the Thalmor and eradicate all of the evil that threatens this world. In the name of my Mother." It was as if the gods heard my words as a mighty steed appeared before me, wearing full Nordic armor. "I am the spirit Hashire, and I shall be your companion as you journey down the path to destroy all that is wicked in this world. Should I be needed, you must merely call my name." The horse said as it vanished into thin air.

The spectacle brought the attention of outsiders as a group of soldiers in blue approached. They looked taken aback by the site of a 14-year-old boy covered in blood and surrounded by bodies. I disregarded their presence as I fell to my knees and cried as I have never cried before. The pain of my mother's death had finally caught up with me. The soldiers in blue escorted me, along with my mother's corpse, to Windhelm. Along the way, I gave them a rudimentary report of what happened. They still couldn't believe a child like me took on a Thalmor Justiciar by myself. Two of the soldiers took my mother's corpse away, "Hey, what are you doing?" I said. "We are going to give your mother a proper Nord burial. If what you say is true, she more than deserves it." one of the soldiers said. I left them to it but still looked worried.

"You need not worry, child; she is in Sovngarde alongside the mightiest Nord warriors. Now, we must take you to see the Jarl. He will decide your fate." The two soldiers escorted me into a large palace that looked pretty old from what I could see. The soldiers brought me before the Jarl of Windhelm, Ulfric Stormcloak. I have never felt a mightier presence in my entire life. "Sir, we found this boy while we were out patrolling. He was covered in blood with the body of three Thalmor elves and one female Nord at his feet." One of the soldiers in blue said. "I see. Boy, my name is Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm, Bear of Eastmarch. Tell me, who are you?"

"My name is Brynjar, sir."

"Brynjar? That is a fine Nord name. Tell me what happened"

I recounted the entire fatal encounter with great detail.

"Damnit! Another one of our people killed by the Thalmor for Talos worship, and the Empire does nothing!"

"With all due respect, sir. The Thalmor killed my mother. Her bow and Talos amulet are all I have left of her. I would love nothing more than to make them pay for what they did. I will see to it that our homeland is freed from their grasp, and every one of those filthy elves is slain."

"That Is what I like to hear! Brynjar was it? Sending you to Honorhall Orphanage would be a waste. I have decided That I will adopt you myself."

A rough-looking man wearing a bear hide intervened.

"Ulfric, are you sure? No offense but you are not exactly the fatherly type."

"My mind is made up, Galmar. From now on, all will know you as Brynjar Stormcloak, the one and only son of Ulfric Stormcloak."

"Sir, are you sure?"

"No need for the formalities now, my child. We are family."

From that point on, I lived in the Palace of Kings as the son of Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. Two years have passed since then, and Ulfric has finally made his move. In the year 4E 201, the Jarl killed High King Torygg and started the Stomcloak Rebellion. With my two years of sword training and my mother's marksmanship skills, Jarl Ulfric wants me to join the fight to free Skyrim. I'm 16 now, which means I am old enough to be a soldier. Today I am a new man.