Skyrim review

Some misty mountains, though not THE Misty Mountains, obviously, that's another 'entertainment brand'

George got up from his desk, grinning at his final accomplishment.  “There,” he muttered to no one as he closed the tome before him with a flourish.  “Finished!”.  He ran his slender elven finger over the inscription on the front of the book.  The backpacker’s guide to Skyrim, for Bosmer Wood Elves.  He wrapped it carefully in thick woven paper and tied it tight with strong string.  “Time to get you back to Valenwood,” he got up and strode towards the door of his office but froze in horror when he noticed the tall, broad, armour-clad shadow blocking the doorway.

“AH!” he sprang back reaching for his dwarven sword, scavenged from the depths of an ancient dwarven dungeon and improved by his own skilled hands over weeks of crafting.  He looked up to the face of his assailant, ready to strike.  “Oh, it’s you!” he immediately relaxed seeing the face of his housecarl Lydia.  “Can you step out the way please, you’re blocking the doorway.”

There was an awkward pause.  She didn’t move.

“Lydia, do you mind….”

“Hi, George!” she interrupted, “What you doing in there?”.

“Oh.  Well, I’ve just finished the travel guide I was writing.  It’s done!  I can get it home!” he grinned again.

“I didn’t know you were writing a travel guide,” Lydia peered at the parcel under his arm.

“It’s the reason I was in Skyrim in the first place.  Didn’t I tell you about that?”

“Nope, I thought you were sent here by the gods to defeat the dragon menace,” she frowned.

“Oh, well, I guess that too, but I didn’t know about that when I set off from Valenwood to write a travel guide for my fellow wood elves,”  he patted the well wrapped booked under his arm.

“So, what did you say about Skyrim?  Are you recommending it to your elven brethren?”

“God no!  It’s been absolute hell!  From the moment I crossed the border I’ve been abducted by Imperial troops, accused of spying for some Nord rebels, had my head placed on an executioners block only to be saved by the arrival of a fucking dragon.  I’ve been accosted by wolves, hunted by bears, chased by trolls, haunted by wispmothers, set upon by bandits, ordered about by rebels and Imperial soldiers alike, had to bow to countless Jarls, been turned into a werewolf, can’t sleep for nightmares of a terrible black phantom persuading me to join a murderous cult, toyed with by gangster godmothers, invited to a tea party with a mad daedric prince inside the mind of a long dead king…”

“What the…”

“…Don’t even ask!  I’ve had to crawl through fetid skeever tunnels, swim frozen rivers, climb frozen mountains, everything’s bloody frozen!  I’ve had to eat every bug, mushroom and monster anatomy I’ve found to see if it’s any use in potion making,” George paused to catch his breath.

“And don’t get me started on the dragons!  Everywhere I go everyone seems to think I’m some kind of god-born dragon slayer!  Oh look a dragon, they’ll say, don’t worry George will get rid of it we’ll just hide in our houses here until he’s done.  And then when I do finally kill the thing everyone carries on as if nothing has happened.  They leave corpses in the streets for….for forever as far as I can tell!  What is wrong with you people!?”

George wanders how to get his big moon shaped ball out of the tree

Lydia was shocked.  She racked her brain for something positive to mention, “Ok, ok, you are a bit of a special case George but what about the people?  Us Nords are a kind and welcoming sort aren’t we?”

“Oh sure you are.  Very friendly when you need me to go on another bloody quest for you!  Every where I go people are running up to me and asking me for help.  God, I can’t even have a quiet drink in a town Inn without the bartender bringing up endless tasks the town need completing.  The people I do befriend who want to go adventuring with me walk into traps, get in the way of my arrows, bark at enemies when I’m trying to be stealthy, hide when I’m trying to attack and are forever getting stuck in doorways!  Speaking of which could you just step aside Lydia, I need to…”

“Well, you’ve been here a long time and must have met many women in your travels, George.  You must have found… you know, a suitable companion out here in the wilds?” Lydia played with her hair as she asked.

George stared at the butch, masculine figure in front of him and suppressed a shudder, “To be honest Lydia I can’t say I did, what with the dragons and the war and everything.  Sometimes I think I’m happier just crafting a new piece of armour from some rare, dungeon plundered metal.  Plus I never did work out how you marry people in your custom.”

“Oh, I can show you!” Lydia burst with unusually girly excitement.

“NO!  I mean…no…. thank you Lydia.  I’ll, um, work it out if I ever need to.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Look, Lydia, can you just come in this room or go back into that room for just a moment, I can’t get past.”


“Ok, let me try it this way.  Lydia [I NEED YOU TO DO SOMETHING FOR ME]”

“Oh sure, what is it?” Lydia was suddenly receptive.

“[WAIT THERE]” George ordered, pointing at the floor on the other side of the hall he was trying to enter.

“Sure, why didn’t you just say?” Lydia obediently did her Thane‘s bidding and walked to the other side of the room.

Finally,” George muttered under his breath and made to go through the doorway.


“AH!” George leapt back instinctively, “Melko!  Not you too!” he looked down at the shaggy dog whose tail he’d just trodden on.  She sat fully in the doorway staring up with puppy-ish eyes, panting.

George sighed, “At least I can just jump over you,” and with that he leapt over the dog with agile elegance finally arriving in the hallway to his hard-earned home.  Grabbing up his latest crafted armour he packed a sword, bow and arrows.  “You can never be too careful out there,” he said to Lydia.  He paused when he saw her just standing there where he’d ordered.  “I’ll, um….  I’ll see you soon….  By the way….. Thanks for everything Lydia, you’ve been a great…..” He searched deep within his brain for a compliment, “you’ve been great at carrying stuff when I was overloaded.”

“Oh, thanks,” Lydia blushed.

“You too Melko.  You look after each other.” And with that he set off out into Skyrim with his travel guide under his arm.

Home is where the dangerously open fire is

With George gone the two NPCs stayed motionless in the house, staring at one another.  Melko, ever needy, was just happy for Lydia’s company.  Lydia felt lost.  She looked at the warm fire and exceptional furnishings George’s ‘work’ in Riften had been able to afford for the house.  She looked at the kitchen and thought about grilling some salmon.  “Ah, I know,” she thought, “I’d better wash my armour actually.  When did I last do that?”

Suddenly the door burst open.  The daylight that flooded in partially blinded Lydia as she tried to make out the figure at the door.  It was….could it be?  George came marching out of the bloom and plonked his helmet down on the nearest chair.  “Hi Lyds.”

“You….you, came back!” Lydia was overwhelmed.

“Huh?  Of course I did!” George looked at her, puzzled, “I was only popping to the post office!  What?  You didn’t think I was leaving did you?  I don’t want to go home, I’m having the time of my life!  Hell, Skyrim is one of the best places I’ve ever been!”


“So, who wants to go on an adventure?  Let’s have a look here,” George thumbed through a thick, tattered journal, “Ah, here’s a good one: Find a way to free Thorald from Northwatch Keep.”

“Who’s Thorald?”

“I forget, but that’s never important. It’s a quest.  Coming?”



Mammoth vs. Dragon.  It is hard choosing which to eat first