She drew her cloak closer about her face as the wind threw more snow and hail around. The sting still reached what little skin was exposed to the elements, but she spurred her horse further on. The mountain may be tall, but she was almost at the top, or what would be considered its peak by most.
High Hrothgar.
It was the pinnacle of the entire province of Skyrim. It was here the Grey Beards dedicated their lives to the Thu'um, and their master.
Paarthurnax.
Beneath her, her horse whinnied, and snorted. Its breath fogged the air around them, and her fur lined face set in a grimace as another gust of cold, wintry air was tossed in their direction. "Easy girl," she whispered as she patted the neck of her mount to calm her down. "We're nearly there."
The sky grew dark as the clouds drew closer together, a storm was brewing, one far greater than any they had faced on their journey yet. Which, they had faced many on their long trek across Tamriel in search of the one that had awakened her from her slumber, and the call all in the lands had heard.
The dragonborn, bloodkin to the dragons and the gift carrier of Akatosh himself, had at last returned to complete what so many had failed at before. To defeat Alduin, king of the dragons.
Or so he had assumed himself to be, in truth he was but a mere prince, and not fit to rule anyone, let alone an entire race of dragons. A race that the humans of Tamriel, along with their allies, had wiped from extinction many years before. But now, they were back, and some were afraid. Afraid of what the end bringer would do should he get his wish.
Even they, his loyal servants and followers, would not survive. All would be lost. The world be born anew, and every last piece of their history would be lost, forever, in the waves of time.
Out of the growing darkness, the sun peeked its last rays through the storm, and before her stood High Hrothgar in all its ancient glory. Its stone walls covered in frost, cracks in every last stone used to lay the foundation, cast a sad outlook on the once strong order of men and women who had once served as teachers to the dragonborn.
She knew she was not going to be welcome here. There was much that she had to make up for before she could be accepted by Paarthurnax once again. There had been many years she could have put an end to Alduin, and, once, she had tried. But circumstances had changed her fate. She would no longer be strong enough to rise up against the dark dragon, her allies had changed sides many eras ago, and would not be easily persuaded to do so again. This she knew to be certain, and would be the second most difficult task, or perhaps even third, that she would face in the upcoming months.
Her horse grew quiet as they neared the steps, its muscles tensed, and its ears drew back, as if sensing danger. Was it inside? She knew not. All she knew was danger was near, and as quickly as she could she cast a very power spell of invisibility over her steed, and leapt from the saddle in the count of two breaths. She tethered her mount to a nearby branch sticking out of an ice covered rock and crouched as low as was possible. A man approached from behind. He wore a mantle made of steel, and his clothes were leathers and furs. On his back he carried a large, iron battle-ax that was greatly dented, and with her vision she could see the crack that split it nearly in twain. To any who glanced at him from the corners of their eyes, they would see a very scary, dangerous man. To her, she saw a warrior, one who had been fighting their whole life, perhaps not in the normal, usually thought of, sense, but he was a warrior regardless. Even his weapons said so.
She took cover behind the nearest boulder and peered over its top. The man did not seem to see her. Whether he had terrible eye sight, being of the Nordic race, or he just could not see from the helm atop his head, she could not tell. But he bound up the steps of High Hrothgar and took the large knockers in his hand. He pulled them back twice, and let them fall, a loud clang echoing through the snow covered mountain range. There was quiet that followed, for what felt like too long. The Grey Beards were old, but they could move as fast as any child when they felt the need to. It worried her that they had not made it to the door yet, and was about to leave the cover of the landscape, when there was a loud scraping sound of wood on stone, and the door began to move.
"Welcome young man, come in, I assume you have travelled here for the calling of the dragonborn," Arngeir , the oldest member of the Greybeards, peered through the slit in the door and took in the man who stood before him. He appeared to be a brute, just as the last man who had found his way to their doorstep had looked. But, this one was different. He could not tell why he knew, nor how, but there was just something about the way the man stood that spoke to him, and so he let him in without any of the normal questions and tests he had offered the other's who had climbed the five thousand steps to test themselves.
Once they had entered, she leapt from her hiding spot, noticing the footprints the Nord had left behind had already begun to disappear in the snow, as her horses hoof prints had done mere minutes before that. Swiftly, she flew over the drifts and ran up the stone steps to the nearest window. From her perch she peered into the confines of the dark, stone, room. There the Greybeards stood, talking to the Nord, and she strained to hear over the howling wind what was being said.
They were testing him. This she knew for certain. She watched in awe and uncertainty, as he learned the Thu'um they had to offer with ease, and continued out into the courtyard. She followed, as stealthily as she could, and hid around the corner as she watched the Nord learn a brand new Thu'um.
She was impressed.
Surely this Nord had potential. But was he the real deal? Arngeir seemed to think so. The snow seemed suspended in the air, here, but the wind still howled, making it difficult for her to hear. But there were a few words that could not be mistaken. "Retrieve the horn of Jurgen Windcaller."
Yes, Arngeir had great faith in this Nord and his potential as the dragonborn. This would be the final test, and should he not pass he would most surely die in the tomb.
But, she felt he would pass. However, she would follow him, just in case. And, should he turn out to be the real deal, she would ask his aid. Though, he had no reason to help her. The dragon's had done much to his people in the past, and would surely continue their torment now that Alduin had returned his generals and foot soldiers to Nirn.
He left the mountain, seeming to flee, running all the way back down to the very base. She was surprised he had so much stamina. Nor were there any enemies left to fend off. He had left a wake of blood and death behind him on the way up, it seemed. On his decent any that had remained seemed reluctant to approach him, even the savage beasts seemed to give him a wide berth.
Back in the town of Ivarstead he seemed to scare most women and children back into their huts. The few people he approached were hesitant to answer him, even the merchants seemed vary. But he was nothing but polite to them, odd for a brute. But, she mused, he was amongst his own kind. Perhaps he didn't want them to fear him, not completely anyway. She waited for him to leave, and left her mount in the capable hands of a farmer, who seemed happy to accept the responsibility of taking care of her for the small sack of coins she had offered. Not much money seemed to pass through the settlement, but every small bit of copper brought smiles to the faces of the villagers. In some, small way, she was doing her part.
It was difficult to track the Nord, he moved through the paths of the forest as well as any trained elf she had ever known. Barely a twig was broken as he walked across the ground, as if his feet barely touched the earth despite his size. There were a few times she thought she had lost him, luckily she knew where he was heading, and quickly picked the trail back up shortly after. After travelling through the night, they had finally made it. They had reached Ustengrav.
He appeared weary, as he stood by the door, leaning against it as if an old man stood where the young one once had been, and needed the aid of the wall for support. But, soon after, he opened the door and stepped inside.
She waited.
For several hours, the time seemed to drag on, as if stopped by magic. She debated amongst herself on whether she should follow him inside or not. She knew the traps that had been set millennia before. Had helped set them herself when Jurgen's time had come and he had been called to the Hall of Valor but his ancestors. Finally, as the sun began to set once more over the vast lands of the land around her, she stepped through the door and into Ustengrav.
The traps were easier than she remembered them being. Perhaps the ones who had set them with her had not known what the future would hold, she knew she certainly hadn't, but still, they were meant to test the dragonborn. And, it became very apparent to her as she flew through the tomb with ease, that anyone could make it through them.
Finally, she reached the innermost chamber, where Jurgen had been laid to rest by those who were long since dead. It worried her that she had not once come across the dragonborn. There were no bodies on the ground, save for a few draugr who were meant to guard the soul of Jurgen in his eternal slumber. She approached the tomb where the horn was meant to be resting with its master, but there was no sign of the horn having been there for a while. In its place, an opened scroll sat.
Carefully, she removed it, in the fear it might have been rigged to set off a trap of its own, set years after the tomb had been originally sealed. But, when she lifted it from its perch, and nothing happened, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Her eyes scanned the paper she held in her hands, and crimpled it in anger at the words she read on its page. Someone else had taken the horn, to draw the dragonborn out in the open. She threw the scroll into the water at her feet and ran back the way she had come from, hoping it wouldn't be too late, that she could make it to Riverwood in time to help the dragonborn, if that was what the Nord truly was. She hoped he would not succumb to the sword of an enemy before then. Already he had hours on her.
She used her magic to call upon the wind and the tempest to aid in her travel. Any who may see her pass them on the road would recall only a cool wind, and maybe the blurred image of something they would interpret to be a bird of some kind, passing them by. But nothing more. However, she was lucky, and passed none on the road.
An hour sooner than it would normally take, she made it to Riverwood, and entered the inn. There was music by the fireside as the sun began to set, and all the townsfolk seemed very happy with a drink in each hand. None seemed to notice the strange newcomer. Nor did they notice when she approached the innkeeper and said the same words that had been left on the note: "I'd like to rent the attic room please."
"Sorry lass, but there is no attic room, and we're all booked up at the time being. Odd, though, you're the second person to ask for that room in the last couple hours. Is it some sort of secret code you have with Delphine. She left shortly after the last fellow arrived and rented our last room." The man seemed far chattier than he should be, perhaps, she mused, it was because he had had a drink or two himself. But perhaps he was like that in general. She did not know for certain, but she did know that she had to find out where the Nord had gone. And, after a few quick questions was able to determine that it had been the Nord who had been the last to ask about the attic room.
"I've no idea where they've gone off too, but they should be back soon. Delphine is never gone for more than a few days at a time. I can set you up in that fellows room until then if you'd like." He was sweet enough, but she refused his offer. Once he was done with this Delphine woman, he was sure to return to High Hrothgar, and that would be where she would be waiting for him.
Three days passed before he finally made the trek back up the five thousand steps. And she was waiting for him. She knew what he had seen, she had felt the rise of Sahloknir as any other in the province who was able to would have. Just as they had felt his fall, and his removal from Nirn or any other realm in Tamriel, or the world. It was only a matter of time before he returned to High Hrothgar with the horn to prove that he was, truly, the dragonborn.
And no sooner had she given up hope, that he climbed over the nearest hill, weary, bloody, and bruised. But no worse for wear otherwise. His ax had been replaced by a bow, and at his hip he wore a sword and smaller ax, and his strength had since increased.
She was impressed.
As she knew the greybeards would be. But before he made it to their door, she would stop him. She knew what they would say to him, she knew what path they would choose for him without his consent. And she had to stop that. Peace and love were preferred in the world, but sometimes the world truly needed a warrior to mold the peace. The Greybeards seemed to forget that, living so high up on a mountain, separate from the rest of the world and it's strife.
"Wait!" she called as she jumped out from behind a different boulder than she had hid behind the last time she had seen him. "Please! Dragonborn, I must speak with you!"
He paused halfway up the steps, and turned to face her. His eyebrows were set in a scowl, and his eyes showed annoyance at the interruption. "What d'ye want?" he spat at her, his words mixed together in the same, gruff, tenor of a Nordic man. Her own brows furrowed.
"Is that the way your mother taught you to speak to women, especially women in need? Nevermind, that is unimportant. Please, you have to listen to what I have to say before you go in there. It is about the dragons."
"What of them?" he said with a shrug. "they're causing trouble across the land, my land. And I've a right to put a stop to it. If you think you are going to convince me otherwise you have another thing coming."
"You are the dragonborn. You are the voice between the race of man and serpent. Do you not wish to know what your true, forgotten purpose is? Tell me, what is your name?"
The Nord sighed, and spun around fully so she could see his brute strength, and, hopefully, cower away from him. But, what he did not realize was, she was much braver and stronger than he, even if she did not appear to be. That was all part of her ruse. He would find that out eventually. He looked at her, and his jaw dropped. The woman was not afraid, for one. And another, she was no ordinary woman. She was an elf. And no ordinary elf either.
Falmer.
"My name is Ilumé. What is yours?"
He blinked a few times, unsure of what to make of the Falmer before him. He had thought they were all dead, or mutated. But this one stood before him as perfect as the pictures in children's story books.
"I am Brynjar. Brynjar Winter-Flame."