Flight from the Thalmor Content . Flight from the Thalmor Dearest reader : The work you are about to experience has been copied and duplicated , so that the story it relates can be spread throughout the Empire . But make no mistake - this is not a work of fiction . The events chronicled in this account are all true , were originally documented in a private journal ( which now remains safely guarded in the House of Quills in Hammerfell ) and occurred not more than a year before this book was printed . - Ashad Ibn Khaled , High Scribe , House of Quills , Hammerfell It ' s been nine days . Nine days since I slipped my bonds . Nine days since I strangled my captor with my own chains . And nine days since I rushed headlong into the night , always listening , but never looking back . But in order to understand my current predicament , one must first understand where I came from , and just where this story began . My name is Hadrik Oaken - Heart , and I am a proud Nord of Skyrim . I am a skald by trade , and received my formal training at the Bards College in Solitude . For years , I made my occupation as a traveling musician and minstrel , and even served several stints as war - bard in service to the armies of the various Jarl s . And it ' s fairly safe to say that if I weren ' t a bard , I never would have gotten into this mess to begin with . My troubles began when I first started singing about Talos , the Ninth and greatest Divine , beloved of the people of Skyrim . Turns out , he ' s not so beloved by the Thalmor . Ah yes , the Thalmor . As common as a head cold in Skyrim these days , and just as annoying . Or so I thought at the time , before their true power and influence made itself known . For those not in the know , the Thalmor are Skyrim ' s recently honored " guests " - high elves of the Aldmeri Dominion who were gracious enough not to wipe us all out during the Great War . But , as every Nord of Skyrim knows , Thalmor graciousness comes at a terrible price . One of the stipulations of the White - Gold Concordat - the peace treaty between our peoples - was the abolishment of Talos worship . A man ascend to godhood ? Preposterous , claim the Thalmor . And so , the open worship of Talos has been outlawed in Skyrim , and actively enforced in those cities where the Thalmor have a tangible presence . Cities , I might add , in which the Empire has the most secure foothold . It was in one of these cities - Markarth , to be exact - where I made the conscious decision to defy the ban on Talos worship . And my defiance came in the form of - what else ? - a song . For what bard who has spent time writing and rehearsing an original work can possible refrain from performing it ? So perform it I did . Not once , not twice , but seven times . Once a day , for an entire week . Now here ' s something most of my kinsman are unaware of : not all Thalmor in Skyrim are equal in station , or purpose . In fact , there is one group in particular that operates secretly , in the shadows - watching and waiting for those Nords who break the law , and continue their worship of almighty Talos . These are the Justiciars , and it is their job to enforce this , the most terrible of conditions of the White - Gold Concordat . And so , I would have performed my song for an eighth time had I been given the opportunity . Sadly , I was not . For the Justiciars had been watching , had been waiting . Instead , I received a black sack over my head in the wee hours of the morning , a dreadfully uncomfortable wagon ride , and sinister promises that I would enjoy my " new home , " which I came to realize was some sort of secret Thalmor prison or detention camp . One I was certain I would never leave alive . It was at that moment I realized I needed to make my escape . No matter what - even if I died in the attempt - I had to slip the grasp of my captors . Better that than rot in some godsforsaken Thalmor jail until the end of time . I finally got my chance when the wagon stopped , and we made camp for the night . One of my two Thalmor guards set off into the forest to hunt , leaving me alone with the other . And so , my account comes full circle . It is now nine days later , and in that time , I have realized the true extent of my foolishness . I couldn ' t have sung the song just once ? Or maybe twice ? Or not at all ? I couldn ' t have swallowed my stubborn Nord pride and realized just how much power and influence the Thalmor truly have over the Jarls ? No . I could not . So now I run . Like a hare from the hound , I run . Always moving , rarely resting , never sleeping . But the Thalmor dog my every move . Where will I go ? How will I escape their grasp ? I honestly don ' t know . The only thing I now understand for certain is this : if the agents of the Aldmeri Dominion cannot have your soul , then they will take your very life . My name is Hadrik Oaken - Heart , and I am a proud Nord of Skyrim . Remember me . For soon I will be dead .