I returned the stone to the court wizard, who tried to recruit me into some College instead of thanking me.
"You know, if you have the aptitude, you should head over to the Mage's College, in Winterhold."
"Thanks, I don't really get along with mages. Or the arcane, for that matter."
"But aren't elves like you-"
"Like me? You mean the Thalmor?"
"I meant the Altmer."
"Oh. Sorry,"
"All I'm saying is, your race is gifted in the arcane arts. You should give it a chance."
Thanks, but no thanks, Farengar. The last time I got near a mage, their destruction magic almost burned me to a crisp.
When I tried to talk to the Jarl about my reward, I got whisked away to a watchtower to face off against yet another dragon.
Note to self: Get resist fire potions before fighting dragons. I guess it was stupid of me to charge the dragon head on with nothing but iron armour and an Ancient Nord sword and not expect to have flames shot in my face.
Eight health potions later, when the dragon finally died, wind roared in my ears and the world got fuzzy again, just like in Bleak Falls. When it died down, I somehow felt stronger. More powerful. The guards were calling me Dovahkiin, or Dragonborn, whatever that means. The Dunmer was skeptic, and I about to agree with her when one of the guards asked me to demonstrate my Thu'um.
"My what?"
"Your Thu'um, Dragonborn. Your voice."
I thought I had already demonstrated my 'voice' by talking to him, but then I thought of that word, Force, again. As if I already knew what to do, I took a deep breath, summoned thoughts of Force and –
"FUS!" It felt natural – like I was both screaming at the top of my lungs and softly whispering at the same time. Pure force leapt from my throat, and made the guards stumble back.
"There is no doubt of it. You are Dovahkiin."
The guards are looking at me like I'm their messiah and the dark elf looks pretty scared, herself. I think I'll head back to Whiterun for some answers.