Letter from Yjorn Greymane, Custodian of the Skyforge

I write these words in the shadow of silence, far from prying eyes and listening ears, for what I must say weighs upon my heart like an anvil upon the chest.

For centuries before me and before the fathers of our fathers, my lineage has stood as custodian of the Skyforge. The Greymanes have never been mere smiths: we have been guardians of knowledge as ancient as the stones of Whiterun itself. The secret of Skyforge steel is no simple craft, but a sacred inheritance, entrusted to our family so that it might serve a worthy cause — the glory and honor of the Companions.

Yet now I see division where once there was brotherhood. This internecine strife, born of pride and fed by suspicion, will bring neither strength nor honor, but only ruin. Your blades, once symbols of protection and valor, risk becoming instruments of discord and shame.

I cannot, in good conscience, feed with my hammer a conflict that stains the name which once made enemies tremble and brought comfort to the innocent. Until the good name of the Companions of Jorrvaskr is restored, until unity once again becomes your banner, my family shall forge no more weapons for you.

The craft of forging Skyforge steel shall remain guarded in silence, as it has been in the darkest of times. It shall not be passed on, nor shared, nor used to fuel this fratricidal folly.

Remember who you are. Remember what you stand for. You are not merely warriors: you are brothers bound by honor, oath, and the memory of those who came before you.

When you become worthy of your name once more, when your brotherhood stands stronger than your divisions, then — and only then — shall the fires of the Skyforge sing for you again.

Until that day, my hammer shall remain still.

— Yjorn Greymane
Custodian of the Skyforge