She mused to herself,” I believe I need to shed this armor into something more comfortable. Maybe I can find a dress or gown where I can soak myself in the warm waters of the hot tub.”
She had found a beautiful gown in a wardrobe located in the small building alongside the hot tub. She mused, “these clothes were all finely made, like those made for those born of royal blood.” She changed, stepped outside, and slowly stepped down into the hot steaming waters of the hot tub.
With each step down she felt the pain of what she had seen on this journey begin to wash away.
As she sat in its soothing waters, the warmth allowed her to close her eyes and she began to think. “She knew the history of that place, where the dream had suggested she go. The importance the Greybeards had played in protecting, teaching, and guiding those who had been discovered to have talents for what had been referred to as “The Way of The Voice.”
Then she remembered something from one of the old books, “It had been the story of ‘The Last Dragonborn’ who when first coming to High Hrothgar had been told by their leader, Arngeir, that he had been preceded by the founder of the Greybeards, Jurgen Windcaller and his teachings of a peaceful way of using the voice to celebrate the power of the gods, not those of man.”
As she sat in the warm waters, closed her eyes, her thoughts wondered of what portent this would hold on her and the future yet to be realized. Then she remembered something else, something important from the dream.
She thought, “What was it the priest said, ‘Know you this is not without precedence. There was one who came before you. In that sacred place of knowledge and learning there is a book.” She began to drift towards slumber but heard the last of it, “It will have the words of her story, her sacrifice, her destiny from a past age. Know that you are linked, you are part of their story now.’” With that she fell into a soft and peaceful slumber. Nearby a man dressed like a priest knelt attending the gardens and watching over her.
Sometime in the night she woke up, stepped out of the hot tub, dried off, went to the house, and climbed into bed to finish sleeping the previous day’s discoveries behind her.
After waking, eating something, dressing herself in her armor and weapons, she made several trips back to collect items from the fallen and to see if there was anything of value, journals, messages, letters, or maybe orders.
She brought the items back and set up a shrine of sorts in a room that seemed prepared for it. Here she laid out the weapons, armor, and other items she had taken from the dead.
She was ready, no sense in wasting any more time. She had found some other armor she now wore as well as a two-handed blade that appeared to be enchanted in some way. She figured she would go up past Helgen, up across the mountain pass there and come down into the woodlands that marked the transition to where Ivarstead was located.
She had no memory of whether she had been there in that town in the past, but what she knew from the books she found around this home was Ivarstead was most popular because it was the starting point for the seven thousand steps. It was a pilgrimage that many took in the past, to study the dragon stones that were along the long path to High Hrothgar, ancestral home of the Greybeards.
She mused for a moment, “I am just wasting more time, let’s get this journey going for it will be a while before I find my way to that place so high atop the “Throat of The World” as it was called in the books.
She headed outside, locked the home, put the key back where she had found it. She walked to the bridge that spanned across the White River running hard down towards the plains, stepped to the middle, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
She let the sounds of the water rush through her being; she sensed a great change was about to occur in the world. Just as the water flowed, not mindful of where it went, she sensed her destiny was unwinding, unmindful of her course, knowing that all paths led to the same end.
She remembers the warnings about the dread that existed in Riverwood when she passed by on her way here, so she took another path that led her up past the northern watchtower on its way to the “Bleak Falls Barrow”. She knew she could then make her way to the ruins of Helgen, head north and begin her trip to Ivarstead.
She stood outside of Helgen for a moment. She thought to herself, “This is where it all began. It is fitting that the journey towards answers also begins here. She thought,” I will have to try and make good timing over the mountain to come out in the Aspen Forest near Ivarstead.
According to some books she found, they mentioned the road to Ivarstead should have markers at specific points. This was to help travelers who were making that journey since so much around it was wilderness.