Dear Skyrim,
I am your finest warrior, I have slew countless dragons, reinvigorated our independence, chartered many mysterious dwarven ruins, I have smithed mighty arms and sold them to you to bolster our economy, I have defeated horrible monstered and undead dragon priests so they may never harm our populace, those who would terrorize our lands have had their throats slit by my daggers, their hearts pierced with poisened arrows or skulls cracked with my mace and shield. As I write this letter from the shadows of an Imperial ship called "The Katariah" and seal the fate of our mighty country, I ask you but one favour.
Please stop asking me to enchant your weaponry, I know your sword couldn't cut a sweetroll, that it's as blunt as a butter knife, but I am a mere novice of enchanting and I have more important stuff to do liek save the world, it's not my problem you can't use a grindstone.
Best Wishes,
Arch-Mage Einar Thorim, Listener, Leader of The Companion, 2nd in command of the Stormcloak Army, Master of the Thieves Guild, Dovahkiin.