This is my first stab at writing fan fiction so please do be critical, I want to improve. This is set in the early days of Skyrims civil war. Just to clarify the main character is not dragonborn.

Chapter One
The sweetest music, the fiddles and flutes of my homeland, hanging on every note of the lilting melody of the harp. But soon the violins quicken, the flutes begin to sing and the harper crafts her music with a renewed vigour, the notes dance, rising, rising towards a glorious crescendo and then CLANG!, and the creak of my the rusty prison doors… “Com’n get yer slop!”, “Get ’t while its COLD hah hah h-” A cough and splutter from an old and wicked man.
A plate bearing a hunk of stale bread and pitcher of dirty water is slid into my cell. No sooner do I open my eyes than one of the ghastly rats skitters across and drags the bread back to its own hovel to dine on.
This Migraine is getting to me, I close my eyes.

“Ahhh! Shut up!” Once again woken by a noise above me, a distant rumbling. They’d be up there drinking and gambling, “The Watch” I mimicked venomously. My perpetual headache throbbed again, another rumble, closer this time, “what are they doing?” I wondered. I heard a groan and then.
A roaring crash, crack and the wall of the my prison cell blew open, magical fire seared, feeding on the masonry. The stonework was coming down around me stunned I scrabbled to my feet and raced for the blast hole, sunlight, sunlight! Oh precious sunlight the thing I had yearned for these past weeks. But the moment its heat graced my face I cursed and recoiled. The light burned my sensitive eyes. I hardened myself and stumbled through the rubble and fire, blinded and deafened by the crackle of flame and the roar of men, no, an army pouring through the streets of Dalsida. The battle was surging through the town around me, swords clashing and arrows whizzing in seas of yellow, blue and dark red. I was just outside the walls of Castle Dalsida with the fighting on one flank and harsh wilderness on the other. I ran for the woods, bewildered and scared, it had made sense at the time.

I fled as far from Dalsida as I possibly could, barely taking in the scene around me. It was so dark, I couldn’t find my way, there weren‘t even stars to guide you, but I wandered on, trudging through the night. In the forests of Skyrim your mind will play tricks on you, you can walk for hours only to find yourself at the same rock. The trees close in on you, aggressively, this is their forest, you’re unwelcome. The crack of every twig and the call of every bat sends primal urges coursing through your blood, “run, they‘re coming, run!” . Your other half may say, “who are they? All there is are trees.” But you may as well be telling yourself that there’s a bonfire around the next turn, it’s all for nothing in the sombre glades of Skyrim .

I woke with the heatless Skyrim sun illuminating the fissure I’d crawled into last night, frightened and cold. Thanks be to Kynareth for the summer. I braced myself against the stone and stood up. The forest fell away down the precarious looking slope of a mountain. Over the tops of the trees I saw a shimmering blue ribbon cascading through the valleys, weaving and twisting unlike any of the High Rock streams I knew so well. My eyes followed the river to a small smoky dot. A town, or at least what was left of it. “There might be refugees, they could bring me to a city”. I got up wild determination burning inside me. I ran down the slope ignoring my hunger, treading without care, crushing all manner of things. My soles were soon filthy and wet with dew. Not that it mattered now with civilisation so close. But I soon realised this town was further than it looked. I slowed down to rest and now more than ever I could feel my lips cracking and my stomach convulsing.
For all its beauty the taiga was a dry and harsh place for a Breton. In my mind the delicate snowdrops, sun glinting in their dewy flowers were just foul tasting water and the rosy near-ripe cloudberries just a sour morsel of sustenance. It was enough though.

By midday I reached the town. I could smell it before I could see it. I walked toward it with a rising feeling of apprehension. There was a cheery sign that had been untouched.
Welcome to
Klimpfj?ll*
The scorched earth was oddly pleasant on my cold feet. The people here had tried, in vain, to protect themselves. A makeshift palisade wall had been erected in places and there were smouldering piles of embers on the roads. I passed many newly dug graves. Although the ground was still warm from the fires the marauders would have moved on by now. That was the pattern of this hateful conflict. Burn and pillage the people you wanted to control. Khajiit I could understand but Nords? Admittedly they were renowned for there violent temperament but they were human. My advance through the looted streets was slow and unfruitful.
“You there stop!” yelled a rumbling, haggard voice, definitely male. My body tensed. “Friend or foe!” the voice called again. I croaked my voice hadn’t been used in a long time and wasn’t going to comply. “Are yeh deaf Wadda’ya want. I cleared my throat. “ Friend, or at least I don’t mean any harm” I said.
“Then why are ya’ here” He replied.
“I need to get to a city” I said.
“Well then you may be able to help us”.

*this was supposed to be in Bobcat font but these forums don't support it.(http://www.fontspace.com/sunwalk/bobcat)

Nobody going to say anything Hmm? I'm looking for advice.

I suppose sometimes people don't say anything because they've nothing to fault you for. Personally, I'd have to try very hard to find something wrong with your writing, seeing as to me it does seem very good. There's only a few extremely minor things I noticed, such as the occasional paragraph where an additional line wasn't inserted - that's a purely structural / presentation thing though, and has no bearing on your actual writing.

Just one thing I'd recommend - after "this time", and before "what are they doing?" in paragraph three, replacing the comma with a full-stop may be a good idea. Gives the line a more compact feeling, and speeds the pace up a little. Suits the atmosphere of that part, as something new is happening.

I clicked here again because I'd read this in the past and hoped you'd posted some more. Write more please.

Oh thanks thats a relief I thought nobody had noticed. I'll start some more soon.

I know how you feel--sometimes lack of comments makes you worry, because you're wondering what people are thinking! But like Luggage said, usually if they don't have anything to say, it's because they're enjoying it and don't want to interrupt the story. I like it, myself--you are a good writer. Sure, there are a few minor mistakes, but they don't take away from the enjoyment of the story unless the person reading it is overly critical. (One tip I'll recommend, however, is that you write in a program like Microsoft word first, and read over it to sort of edit... then copy and paste... That's what I do, but you don't have to do it that way....) But you don't have to worry--you are good at writing, so please keep it up!

This is something I'd recommend too, seeing as it's what I do with my stuff as well. Just remember that with newer versions of Word it uses an auto-space, which doesn't get included when you copy/paste. That means you can end up losing paragraphs and accidentally merging them into a single wall of text unless you double space it. I've done that more than a few times.

Oh, yeah--thanks for mentioning that! Yeah, so you still have to do a little work on it after you've copied and pasted it, but it's still a lot easier, to be sure you have it exactly how you want it when you post it, and to make sure it's saved, in case something happens to your internet connection while you're in the middle of working on it--nothing worse than having something happen and losing all your work!