The trip up to High Hrothgar was, as usual, very long. Ysmir hadn't expected the Greybeards to summon him with the Thu'um at all after Alduin's defeat, but it was no mistake that it was them. The sky had thundered as they called "DOVAHKIIN!" just as they had done when he first learnt of his powers. It would have been unwise to ignore them.
Skyrim had changed a lot since he killed Alduin. He worked with the Blades from time-to-time, recruiting new members to help him kill the rest of the dragons. Everything was quiet on the warfront too. He suspected that Ulfric Stormcloak was preparing for some kind of all-for-glory battle against the Empire and the Thalmor, biding his time and gathering his army for a mass attack. The Empire, however, were too busy being kiss-asses to the Thalmor to even bother with anything else. Despite being a Nord who worshiped Talos, Ysmir had only agreed to join the Stormcloaks in the first place because he hated the Thalmor, ever since they'd tried to kill him − which seemed to be a mutual understanding from them as well. He blamed Delphine for that, of course. It was her idea for him to go to the Thalmor Embassy and find out whether or not they were behind the dragons coming back to life. Stupid bitch should have realized that not even those morons could raise a dragon.
Ysmir sighed heavily, panting slightly from the climb as he reached the home of the Greybeards all the way up the 7,000 steps near the peak of the Throat of the World. It looked like a large stone palace to be honest. And it was always so quiet. Ysmir took a deep breath as he approached the doors of High Hrothgar.
He found the four Greybeards already awaiting him in the main room. All of them had solemn looks upon their faces. Ysmir resisted the urge to ask them who died.
Arngeir stepped forward. "Dovahkiin," he said, bowing his head slightly at the Nord.
"You summoned me, master?" Ysmir inquired.
"Ah, yes... yes," his tone saddened. "Come, Dragonborn, we have much to discuss."
Ysmir followed Arngeir over to the others − Borri, Einarth and Wulfgar − who did not speak because their voices were too strong.
"What is this about, master?" Ysmir asked. "Why have you summoned me?"
"It is about the bloodmoon," Arngeir said. "Have you not seen it?"
Ysmir nodded. How could he not? It was present in the sky night and day. A terrible sight, but he expected it to be some kind of rare lunar cycle.
"What do you mean?" Ysmir asked.
"I cannot say," he said.
Ysmir frowned. "Well then, is it a bad thing?"
"It's hard to know for sure," Arngeir said. "But it must be taken care of."
"So how do I do that?" Ysmir asked.
Arngeir looked even more remorseful. "I do not know."
"Well, if you can't tell me anything about it, how am I supposed to fix it?" Ysmir demanded, feeling angry now.
"You can't," Arngeir told him.
"But I thought you said it has to be taken care of?"
"Oh, yes, it must," Arngeir replied. "But it is not that easy, Dragonborn."
"When is any quest you give me actually easy?" Ysmir muttered under his breath.
"I do not know about the Bloodmoon because what little we did was lost to us many... many years ago," Arngeir explained. "It was written in an Elder Scroll."
"I thought Greybeards despised Elder Scrolls?" Ysmir said.
Arngeir found something interesting to look at on the floor. He was silent for a long moment before saying, "There is a reason behind everything, Dragonborn. Our reasons are greater than you can imagine, but I cannot explain to you. I fear my voice will fail me before I can."
"Dare I ask how I find the scroll?" Ysmir said. "Or do I need to seek out other means necessary to do so?"
Arngeir looked at Ysmir with a puzzled expression. "I cannot say where to find the scroll, but maybe... oh, no, I don't think so..."
"Tell me," Ysmir said.
Arngeir sighed. "Perhaps the Blades... they could have heard of such a scroll."
Ysmir was confused. "Why would they know?"
"It is just a thought," Arngeir said. "Like I said, I do not think it so now."
"I could still ask Esbern, I guess," Ysmir shrugged. "But, I need more information. How can I properly identify it from the others? How did it get lost?"
"It was given to someone who was thought to be Dragonborn," Arngeir admitted. "They were to be protected by the Blades. Kept safe from those looking to find the scroll. We had thought the scroll would be safe... we were wrong. It was lost."
Ysmir was starting to piece it together now. It explained why they hated the Blades and the Elder Scrolls. Whoever the scroll was given to must've been important to the Greybeards, because Arngeir wouldn't say their name, and the emotion in his voice was strong with grief.
"I'll find them," Ysmir promised.