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What a fool I was! I tried to reach Windhelm on foot, in the face of a raging storm. It was so cold outside, and I was so tired. But I never should have entered this stupid cave. I should have known better! What am I, a milk-drinker?
This frigid grotto, all ice and snow, certainly appeared to be warmer and safer than the wilderness outside. At least it was a place to get out of the bitter wind. But how wrong I was! If you're reading this, maybe you haven't seen them yet. Beware! This grotto is home to a band of trolls!
They haven't spotted me yet, but it's only a matter of time. And one of the foul beasts has entered the passage behind me, blocking off any hope I had of making an escape. I'm still going to try, of course. I have my sword and my good, strong arms. But I'm not a warrior. Not really. Oh, every Nord imagines herself to be a mighty warrior, but we're not all forged from the same ore, no matter what the stories say.
I want to write this down before I make my move. Just in case. Consider this to be my last will and testament. If you find this, that means the trolls got me. I pray I was able to give as good as I got, but I have no illusions that I can defeat one troll, let alone a half a dozen. And the sounds I hear from deeper in the grotto. There must be a terrible troll back there!
Please, if you happen to make it to Windhelm in your journeys, look for Eepa Snow-Hair. She's the most beautiful woman in the Sober Nord Inn, and the love of my life. Let her know I tried to make it back in time for her birthday. Let her know I was thinking of her the entire time. And tell her that the little house and everything inside it belongs to her now.
Shor's bones! The trolls are coming! I'll see you in Sovngarde, my love!
— Betra Fairskin