We were making our way, my partner and I to the college of Winterhold, cutting trough the pass of Wayward pass. The blissard was hitting hard and the visability was down
to a few feet. I yelled, "lets seek shelter by the ruins of Alftan" We struggled towards the dark, tilted and hazed contures of the old dwemer ruins. A roar, that split the
seamingly impregnable howl of the storm hit us. Snow trolls. We drew our weapons as on signal. I was not that all concerned, Iv met these creatures before, Althoug only in single
numbers and I had disposed of them, if not with ease, but not to hard either. This time prove to be diferent. Not one, not two, but three of these monsters falled down upon us.
In the confusion of snow and battle and deathseeking claws we got seperated. I found myself fighting a single troll and I metodically bashed with my shield and hacked it with my
war axe. One final blow saw its head split right down the middle. I was bloodied and winded but still ready for a fight. I`m dragonborn, I yelled. Sound of battle yet unresolved
pulled me out of my feeling of triumf. My partner. I run towards the sound of growling and blades cutting trough the wind. I`ll show this snow devils, I`ll shout them off the mountain.
There, there they are. My partner on her knees, shield held over her head in a last defence. the trolls, one behind the other, almost on top of each other. Perfect. I open my mouth
and let slip the full fury of the dragonborn. The blast hits the trolls dead on, catapulting them high into the air and into the abyss. But then I saw that some of my force had hit my partner,
making her slip. She makes some last, ackward movements to hold on, then she is gone.

I stand dumbfounded a few secons, making an incensitive remark to myself, well that wasnt suppose to happen. Then it hits me. I run to the edge. Looking over, I can not see the bottom.
The storm is to heavy. I got to get down. I franticly locking for a way down. There, a ledge and possible one below that. I take wild chances as I climb down ruins of long forgotten tales and
battles and adventures untill I reach the bottom and there I find the broken body of my love.

The wind howled and growled, shouted at me to leave this place. Using wind and frost, leave, leave your love behind. I refused. Holding on as hard as I could, until my arms aked and
the softness that had so long filled me with safety and comfort left her body and the hard and pittyless truth could be felt, even trough my rough gloves and armor.

I looked once more into the this face I knew so well, and as I watched, her eyes slowly filled with snow untill she could no longer se me. I was alone.

I think this should go in the fan fiction forum here.

http://www.gamesas.com/forum/31-elder-scrolls-artwork-and-fan-fiction/

Nice! I was similarly upset when my companion of many adventures finally croaked

A spirited moment I got. Had that partner for close to 150 hours. It was quite a poetic end. (a bottle of wine, well maby two helps)

Yeah i killed my partner(Erandur) as well, by my Lighting rune. I tried to spawn another rune to make the one I planted disappear, but it was too late. I am now on a quest to kill off every forsworn.

It should be "a beloved partner" not "an beloved partner".
Just saying

I just press ° and type "resurrect".

OP, very nicely done.

I was going to ask if you don't load your last save, but I think you're probably a heavy RP'er and don't do that.

I don't RP, but I killed Lydia at least 10 times, when she jumps in front of me shooting my bow - but then I made her essential and things are better now.

Good luck.

Yeah, I try to resist the temptation to resurrect or other corrections. If I make a mistake I try to live with it. I think I was a bit slushed yesterday. Man, I used flower language yeterday.
I`m a poet and didnt know it LoL

Well I tend to find my self in an odd area at times to, poetic as they can be, I tend to ruin them.

We go off, find one of our death's in a horrible area. The other has the other sobbing saying why, and then a dead thrall is created. Never was good with poetry. Right Billy? Oh right, your dead..

A minimum of two bottles of wine and your Shakespear. Well at least until the next day and you read what you whrote and you slowly put your face in your hands. LoL

It mainly involves a majority of sick humor, with a side of spice, and a bottle of pure confusion with a glass of hemlock with insanity sugars. Don't forget the femeral artery, great cheese it makes.

Though it will always end in a thrall in my opinion. I usually just bring my good old' pall to the throat of the world and give them a proper good bye. A flying leep of rushing fun. Well more or less them thinking "I never should have met this person.".