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- Can be bought from Urag gro-Shub in The Arcanaeum
- Bards College, Solitude, on a table on the upper floor
- Black-Briar Meadery, Riften, a shelf
- Bloodlet Throne, on a shelf
- Dragonsreach in Whiterun
- Haemar's Cavern, on a bookshelf
- High Hrothgar
- Jorrvaskr, Whiterun, inside Vilkas' end table. Another copy can be found directly across from Kodlak Whitemane's bedroom.
- Moorside Inn in Morthal
- Riftweald Manor, during or after the quest The Pursuit
- Windpeak Inn, Dawnstar, in room on left of bar
An ancient poem of Skyrim told from the perspective of a Snow Elven ghost who haunts the Nords who slew him, only to bear witness to the Children of the Sky slaughtering the remainder of his brethren soon after
Translation 3E213 Atheneum Monks at Old Anthel
Fifty Nights from home I last awoke
- upon a sky-flung cliff in Hjaalmarch Hold
Though my flesh had died and gone to ground
- My Vision went on, from body unbound
Winking there in the vale whence I came
- This dead man's eyes saw pale flame
Where men the same who took life away
- Sung high their battle-glory and praise
Wafting went I, a shade or a wight
- Through stoic pines, pitched ink of night
Ere I came upon the pyre-burning throng
- I heard carried on wind's wing their song
"Sing high and clear, bandsmen born of sky
- Let Sovngarde hear and join our cry"
"These honored dead shed blood upon the fen
- Ending Orc and Elf and traitor men."
"Your spirit went unto and filled their heart
- You sped them to glory, Hail Spirit Wulfharth"
Then oil from urns fed greedy flames
- burning what few my legion and I slayed
Wordlessy they chanted then until dawn
- Every flake of ash gathered ere they marched on
Swept along unseen, so too went I
- Meekly haunting these Children of the Sky
Tireless they went, over hearth and hill
- Exhaustion seemed only to spur them still
Unflagging they went, a whorl of rage
- Soon finding our camp, bloated with prey
My dead heart ached for I knew men within
- Doomed, never knowing how close was their end
Again the Nord chests swelled up in refrain
- I screamed unheard. I wept with horror plain
"Hear us, our ancestor, Ash King, Ysmir
- Honor this warband as we to glory repair"
"Those dead to whom you spoke and heard
- We bear them upon us, Your valor conferred"
And so it was, to the man each was smeared
- With ash of a Brother's bone, blood and beard
These ashen brutes, the Askelde Men
- Set to a gruesome task, each bowstring bent
I bellowed then, a cry of desperate rage
- A futile howl among those men, an empty page
Yet one elder turned and unblinking, stared
- into the vapor-soul of me, his nostrils flared
He bellowed ancient words, his beard aflame
- And my vision fell away, Peace at last came