After they'd compared supplies with Lydia, Judiiz and Rasha had packed for the journey and promptly left. They'd inquired from Skulvar Sable-Hilt at the Whiterun Stables about horses but had found that they couldn't afford a thousand gold for the only seven year old mare for sale. On foot, they'd just passed the Honningbrew Meadery, the great grain mill at Chillfurrow Farm turning languidly in the light breeze, when the first wolf had attacked them. With the two of them, it was not much of a challenge. South-east from there they'd investigated a small inscription on the map Lydia had supplied them with called White River Watch. The bandits around a cave entrance had not been very alert and Judiiz had stealthily dispatched them with her bow, Rasha crouched impatiently next to her with her tail whipping from side to side.

The cave had yielded a blind watchman whom they spared, more bandits, a caged wolf and a sizable amount of gold. Importantly, they'd also filled a sack with enough supplies in the form of fresh vegetables and rabbits hanging from a rack as well as a small cast iron pot for cooking. They were now better stocked for the journey than when they'd left Whiterun. They'd also found an odd sword, more like an heirloom than a frequently used weapon and taken it with them. They'd continued following the road further north east until they'd found the crossroads to the Ritual Stone that Lydia had mentioned to them. Turning in the opposite direction, they'd carefully skirted a Stormcloak camp they'd found nestled in a protective basin against the mountain. Judiiz had been visibly tense and agitated and Rasha had wondered silently at her behaviour. The afternoon had been spent following a winding path up the mountainside and Judiiz had often thought them lost. Rasha had seemed confident enough though after Judiiz had informed her that their destination was Ivarstead, so they'd continued. It had started turning dark as the path crested, so they'd decided to make camp with a sheer rock face at their backs and unobstructed views eastward and westward down the road.

The aroma of rabbit stew was heady and for the first time in a while, Judiiz actually felt hungry. Their bedrolls were set out on either side of their small fire and Rasha was busy stirring their supper.

"Hmm, rabbit stew!" she purred and licked her lips, "I haven't had a good meal in a while…" Judiiz looked up inquiringly from sorting her pack and Rasha noticed the questions in her eyes.

"Oh, I've been traveling from place to place for a while, living off what I could scrounge, or handouts and such," Rasha clarified, her slitted eyes distant. Judiiz raised one eyebrow and motioned with her hand.

"What, start from the beginning?" Rasha interpreted the gesture. Judiiz raised both eyebrows this time.

"How do you…"

"Know what you want to say?" Rasha smiled toothily. Judiiz nodded, shifted her pack to the head of her bedroll and settled, legs crossed and eyeing the Khajiit expectantly. Rasha finished her stirring and replaced the lid on the little pot over the coals. She crouched back on her haunches.

"You learn to read people when your survival depends on it. It is best to read a man's intent before his knife leaves its sheath, or before he clouts you with one hand after offering food with the other." She nodded sagely. "Or when a group of men corner you and you can see that they don't just want to admire your weapons." Judiiz turned pale at the last bit and turned her gaze away. Rasha studied her for a bit. Sensitive point, the last one, she thought.

"You are very expressive, even though you don't say much. I'll probably have to brush up on my dragon language skills if you should suddenly lapse into it…" She dodged a dish-rag thrown at her playfully and snickered. "Anyway," she continued, "My journey started in Elsweyr, unlike some of the half-baked Khajiit in this country." She got up fluidly and served them both some steaming stew on two wooden plates. They settled to eat companionably.

"Good…" Judiiz managed around a mouthful and Rasha bowed from the waist, trying not to spill the contents of her own plate.

"Why, thank you milady!" Rasha said in her best tavern wench imitation. "I was told that I was born in Torval, that is the home of the Mane, the ruler of Elsweyr," Rasha explained between further bites. "It is said that his palace is beautiful, built from Valenwood oak with sugarcane gardens surrounding it on all sides." Judiiz nodded appreciatively. "Unfortunately, nobody but Khajiit have ever seen it. All others, especially the races of men, are kept away from the palace grounds by the Warrior Guard. They are not what they used to be though, most are sugar-addled half the time," she smirked. "I was an unwanted child of some noble. Unwanted, because I am one of the very few Khajiit who can do magic." She demonstrated by conjuring humming electrical tendrils of energy around her hand. Judiiz watched in wonder, her eyes wistful.

"No magic?" Rasha asked, extinguishing her little display. Judiiz shook her head.

"Well then, because of my fabulous gift bestowed by the ever so benevolent gods, I was left in the desert and a chieftain of one of the passing nomadic tribes picked me up and raised me. They were good to me. We traded frequently with the Rimmen and that is where I learnt to meditate, control my magic and to fight of course." She collected Judiiz' empty plate, wiped them with the previously thrown dish-rag and stowed them in her own pack. She tossed the rag into the fire and it flared brightly for a moment before turning to ash.

"I got separated from the tribe by a bunch of sugar-drunk cutthroats in Senchal. It is one of the worst places in Elsweyr, but it has the most amazing bazaars, taverns and open markets, not to mention the merchant quarters. They dragged me to Black Keirgo, Senchal's most squalid and dangerous quarter." Judiiz was rapt, but she shivered involuntarily at her new friend's last words.

"Oh, don't worry. I sorted them out well and good," Rasha reassured her with a wolfish grin. "Lifted all their fat coin pouches off them as well, enough to buy me passage with one of the better sea captains of the Topal Sea. We sailed north into Cyrodill, past Leyawiin and Bravil and made landfall at the Imperial city. I never entered the city though. I made straight for Bruma and crossed the border into Skyrim near the ruins of Arcwind Point. I carried on past Ivarstead and took the long road around this very mountain on my way to Whiterun. That is when I met up with the caravan of my very hospitable countrymen and that is when I met you!" she finished with a flourish. Judiiz plotted her route to Skyrim in her mind, then remembered her own route and she shut her train of thought off. Rasha settled herself on her bedroll, leaning on one elbow and her amber eyes glinted with the firelight between them. Judiiz cleared her throat softly.

"Why…" she asked, gesturing around at their small campsite and herself.

"Why come with you? Why not just leave?" Rasha finished for her and Judiiz nodded. Conversation was so much easier when someone instinctively knew what she wanted to say…

"I've asked myself that on the way to this cosy little camp of ours. I was free from the Whiterun guards the moment we left. I could have gone my own way hours ago."

"You are… free to go," Judiiz stated. Rasha gasped teasingly.

"My word, that is the most I've heard you say so far!" Judiiz blushed, but smiled nonetheless. "Perhaps that is why I've stayed, because you have not kept me here. And where would I go? You are the only person in Skyrim that I've known for more than a day." Rasha jumped up lithely and stood with her fists on her hips, her tail an elegant sickle behind her.

"Besides, you are a great warrior on a quest to find out what your true purpose is! How can I not be interested?" She stretched one arm out to the stars. "True glory awaits us after a journey of battles, soul searching and many more pots of rabbit stew!" Judiiz fell over in a fit of giggles and Rasha plopped herself down with a huge smile. "And I had a feeling that you needed some cheering up," she added, then immediately regretted it. Judiiz' mirth died down and she sat up slowly, then hugged her knees to her chest and stared into the dying coals. Perhaps that was what she needed, but how does one cheer up after… what happened to her? How long will this shadow hang over her? Why did she happen to be… there, at that specific time? Needing to explain, to say something, she opened her mouth but Rasha interrupted her gently.

"Don't force it, Judiiz. I can only guess that there is something that happened to you that left its mark on you. Such things take time. When you are truly ready, I will listen. For now, I will take the first watch. You, get some sleep," she admonished with a wagging finger. Two ice-blue eyes shone appreciation and Rasha nodded, satisfied, although she realised that throughout their conversation, she'd only spoken about herself and still knew nothing about her companion…

They crested a last hill the next day before Ivarstead suddenly lay before them. Judiiz looked about for any signposts, and at last decided to approach a Nord and a Bosmer chatting amiably on a bridge spanning the river bordering the little hamlet. It turned out that the Nord, Klimmek, frequently travelled all the way up to High Hrothgar with supplies for the Greybeards. Judiiz and Rasha offered to take the bag of provisions for him and he gave them directions and a friendly warning about wolves on the trail. Halfway up, after killing two wolves that attacked them, they stopped to allow their quivering legs a rest. It was high enough for snow to be piled on the ground and they both started shivering after a while. They decided to move on and after a big scare from a frost troll, they reached their destination. High Hrothgar had a great tower in the centre with steps leading up either side of it. On the right it almost seemed part of the dark mountain rock and on the left it was built right to the edge of a vertical drop. A blizzard had started and Judiiz was thankful when the ornately patterned heavy copper doors shut the cold out behind them.

"Akaviri," Rasha whispered to her, indicating intricately carved designs on the walls and pillars. The air was comfortable inside, no doubt from various braziers burning where the area opened into a high ceilinged foyer. Two bearded and hooded figures ambled down steps toward them and Judiiz stepped forward hesitantly.

"So... a Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age," one of them intoned gravelly, aloof and sounding somewhat distrustful. Judiiz fidgeted self-consciously and nodded. Behind her, Rasha's mouth dropped open in consternation. Dragonborn! Holy sugar! Why didn't the girl tell her that? Is that what Judiiz did in Whiterun? Shouted at her? Judiiz could have killed her!

"Now tell me, Dragonborn, why have you come here?" the Greybeard asked impatiently.

"To… to…" Judiiz tried, her frustration with herself becoming evident again.

"First, let us see if you truly are Dragonborn. Let us taste of your Voice," the Greybeard interrupted her. Can this stringy skittish girl be the Dragonborn? A look of concern crossed the girl's features and he sighed condescendingly. "Do not fear, we will not be harmed. Shout for us, we will see if you truly have the gift." All right then, Judiiz thought. You asked for it! She inhaled deeply, her eyes went distant briefly as she focused and then her Shout staggered the two bearded men backwards, their robes billowing. She smiled inwardly at their astonished expressions.

"Dragonborn. It is you," the lead Greybeard murmured and inclined his head respectfully. "Welcome to High Hrothgar. I am Master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards." Judiiz visibly relaxed.

"How… why…," she just about pleaded, indicating herself. Arngeir smiled kindly.

"No doubt you have many questions. There is indeed much that we know that you do not. We will try to answer your questions, but that does not mean that you are ready to understand it," he supplied cryptically. "As Dragonborn, you have received the ability to Shout directly from Akatosh. We will therefore seek to guide you on the proper use of your gift, which transcends the restrictions which bind other mortals."

"Restrictions?" Judiiz frowned. Arngeir nodded wisely.

"The Dragonborn is an exception to all the rules - the Dragon Blood itself is a gift from Akatosh."

As Arngeir continued to explain various aspects of the Voice and being Dragonborn, Judiiz felt something starting to awaken in her. It swelled steadily, tried to reassure her that Arngeir's words were true until she felt them to be so. She was … more than mortal men. She had a destiny, even though she didn't quite know yet what it was! Master Arngeir's words brought her back to the present.

"Without training, you have already taken the first steps towards projecting your Voice into a Thu'um, a Shout, with Fus, meaning Force, the first part of the complete Unrelenting Force Shout. Now let us see if you are willing and able to learn more." He stepped back and allowed the other attending Greybeard to take his place. "Master Einarth will now teach you Ro, the second Word in Unrelenting Force." Master Einarth whispered the word of power and a deep rumbling followed in its wake. Judiiz was drawn like a moth to flame where the word shimmered on the stone floor. Her soul recognised the word with ease and she was surprised and grateful when none of the previous nausea followed its reading. Master Einarth imparted his understanding of the word upon her and she mouthed the two words together softly. She was surprised to notice that two other Greybeards had joined them quietly.

"Use both Fus and Ro. Together, they will make the Shout more powerful," Arngeir continued. "We will provide targets. Strike the targets as they appear." He noticed Judiiz'nervousness. "Breath … and focus," he reminded her softly and she tried to ready herself. After striking the spectral targets provided by the Greybeards, she sighed and smiled, quite proud of herself.

"Impressive," Arngeir remarked. "Your Thu'um is precise. You show great promise, Dragonborn." Judiiz beamed at the praise. "Master Borri has agreed to teach you the first Word of a new Shout. We will perform this next trial in the courtyard. Follow Master Borri," he instructed, indicating one of the men with a frizzy length of beard.

After learning the first word of Whirlwind Sprint, Wuld, Judiiz felt something in her change again. This is what she was meant for! She recognised each new teaching as if the knowledge had already been inside her, it had just needed to be awakened. She felt her soul for the first time in her life, felt it warming and soothing her and she allowed it to flood her being. She had the soul and blood of a dragon! She was a dragon! Elated, she realised that her trials before and during Helgen could be overcome by this, given time.

"You are now ready for your last trial," Master Arngeir proclaimed as Masters Borri, Wulfgar and Einarth made their way back into High Hrothgar. "You are to retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, our founder, from his tomb in the ancient fane of Ustengrav." He marked the location on her map and her brow furrowed.

"Who was he, Master?" she inquired softly. She smiled inwardly. Speaking is becoming easier…

"He was a great war leader of the ancient Nords, a master of the Voice, or Tongue," Arngeir elaborated. "After the disaster at Red Mountain, where the Nord army was annihilated, he spent many years pondering the meaning of that terrible defeat. He finally came to realize that the gods had punished the Nords for their arrogant and blasphemous misuse of the Voice. He was the first to understand that the Voice should be used solely for the glory and worship of the gods, not the glory of men."

"That … would be a good Way," Judiiz said more to herself. Arngeir nodded, pleased.

"Yes. Jurgen Windcaller's mastery of the Voice eventually overcame all opposition, and the Way of the Voice was born. It is the way of peace, but remember, your destiny requires you to use your Voice - why else would Akatosh have bestowed this power upon you?"

"I … will try," Judiiz said after a moment of reflection. Arngeir touched her shoulder and for the first time in a while, she found another's touch reassuring.

"That is commendable. But remember, the Dragon Blood is itself a gift of Akatosh. Do not try to deny that gift. If you remember to use your Voice in service to the purpose of Akatosh, you will remain true to the Way."

"Did it … come easy to other Dragonborn as well?" she asked walking alongside him.

"Hmm, do not let your easy mastery of the Voice tempt you into the arrogance of power that has been the downfall of many Dragonborn before you," Arngeir admonished gently. "Dragons though, and of course Dragonborn, have the inborn ability to learn and project their Voice. What you have already learned today took even the most gifted of us years to achieve. But beware that your skill does not outstrip your wisdom."

"Geh, Master," she replied and her hand flew up to cover her mouth in surprise. Arngeir chuckled softly.

"Yes? Good. Then you will be ready for whatever lies ahead. And do not be alarmed by your lapses into the Dragontongue. This is also natural and inborn. If we accept one gift, how can we deny the other?" The great doors of High Hrothgar closed behind them, snow swirling once again and covering the passage of a legend about to commence.