AN: Again, I am away this weekend, so here is this week's chapter a few days early. It's long, so hopefully that will make up for the fact that there will be a longer wait until the next one is posted. That one is also long. So are 12, 13, and I'm guessing 14 will be too. I know I said I was going to try to post shorter chapters, but I suppose I don't have to if I'm only posting once a week.

Enjoy!

Chapter 10 – Kyne's Blessing

The next day after baths and breakfast, Jenassa took it upon herself to lead the introductions since she knew the Jarl of Whiterun well. The blond Jarl looked about the same age as Ulfric, about fifty years old, I suspected. He looked a bit silly, I thought, with a jeweled diadem on his brow. The ruby at the center of the diadem was as big as his mouth. I wondered why he wore essentially a crown, and why Ulfric had not. His choice of outfit put me off somewhat, too. He was wearing the equivalent of a vest with fur trimmings that showed off his scrawny, sinewy arms. He didn't look particularly regal to me; rather, he looked like a grown man who dressed like a teenager and wore jewelry. I then silently reprimanded myself for being judgy about someone else's fashion choices. Bad anthropologist.

As we approached the throned Jarl, I watched Jenassa give a nod in greeting to another Dark Elf woman, also dressed in leather armor. The warrior woman stood vigilant near the Jarl, and I figured her to be something like a house-servant.

"Jarl Balgruuf the Greater," Jenassa began. I watched her actions, noting her posture and such. I half-expected her to bow or even curtsey – though the latter would have been somewhat discordant for the sellsword – but she did nothing of the sort, and was simply polite with her words. "We come to you from Eastmarch with news."

"What news?" the skinny Jarl asked.

Jenassa handed the Jarl the letter from Yrsarald, but didn't wait for him to read it. "As you know, Stenvar and I," she indicated her companion, "found gengangiren in your Hold not long ago. About one week ago, we killed outlaws outside of Kyne's Lund. One of them did not stay dead. He became a gengangir, and was being held in the dungeons of the palace at Windhelm. Deborah," she indicated me, "is the Champion of Meridia, and hunter of the undead."

Mostly true, I said to myself.

"We believe," Jenassa continued, "that the gengangiren were all headed toward Muna-glow Vig, east of here. We have brought with us these frifilen to investigate it, and ask that you spare one or two guards of your own to come, too."

"Muna-glow…," the Jarl's brow furrowed. "That place has been abandoned for hundreds of years. Why would gengangiren go there? You don't think…."

"Yes, Jarl Balgruuf," Jenassa nodded. "We believe there may be necromancers there. Thankfully, Deborah and Marcurio have battled the undead before. Deborah wields the proper magic for such a strag."

"We believe Deborah is also Dragonborn," Stenvar blurted.

At that, Jarl Balgruuf's interest piqued and he sat up straight in his throne. "It was you that the Greybeards called so many months ago?"

I shook my head. "No, Jarl Balgruuf. That happened long before I took in the dragon's soul. The call was to Torug, the orc Dragonborn who killed Jarl Ulfric."

The Jarl's mouth quivered a bit at the mention of Ulfric, whether out of sadness or some other emotion, I couldn't tell. "Yes, I have heard about this orc…. News of Ulfric's death spread quickly, as you might expect. And I hear his war advisor is the new Jarl of Windhelm, despite no Moot being called nor any council being taken. But… that is another matter. Yes, I would gladly send with you some guards to investigate the vig. Something that old…. It would not be very safe, and I'm well aware that outlaws use such places as hideouts. If you could lukas the place, clear it out for good, I would be grateful. And do look into this matter of the gengangiren, would you?"

"Yes, Jarl Balgruuf," Jenassa replied. "With honor."

As I feared he might, the Jarl turned to me. "Deborah, was it? Unusual name. Have you been to see the Greybeards yet?"

"No, Jarl Balgruuf, not yet. But I will, soon."

"Have you killed a dragon?"

"I helped, yes, in Windhelm. Jarl Ulfric made the killing strike, though. I took its soul into me, and heard and saw its memories. I later breathed fire as dragons do."

"And this happened the day Ulfric was killed?" Balgruuf asked.

"Yes, Jarl Balgruuf," I answered. "He was killed just after, right in front of me, Yrsarald and Galmar, and guards and some citizens. I was… recovering, still, from the dragon's soul. It was very painful. Yrsarald was helping me. Galmar and the guards were too far away to stop the orc. I…," I gagged a little at the memory of having Ulfric's remains painting my face and body. "It was… horrible." I could have said a lot more on the subject, but I figured Jarl Balgruuf didn't need to know that we thought Ulfric was a ghost, was attempting to communicate with Yrsarald, and that he was possibly knowledgeable about what had happened at Saarthal.

The Jarl and his attendants remained silent for a moment, perhaps contemplating what I had said. "The Greybeards have not yet called to you," the Jarl said, his words carrying a connotation that I could only interpret as "I'm not sure I believe you".

"No, they have not," I admitted, "but Meridia herself tells me to go up the mountain, and everyone agrees it is what I should do."

"The Daedra Lord speaks to you?"

"She does, Jarl Balgruuf."

"What does a Daedra Lord want with a Dragonborn?"

"I hate the undead as much as she and Arkay do. She needs me to hunt them, but tells me to train first as Dragonborn. I am a mage, yes, but I believe her words when she says I cannot fight the battles to come without more training."

The Jarl slouched back into his throne and stroked his long, blond beard. He then turned to Jenassa. "When do you plan to go to Muna-glow?"

"As soon as we can, Jarl Balgruuf," she answered. "We will camp just near there and then move in before first light."

"And what if you cross paths with more gengangiren?" the Jarl asked.

"They do not appear dangerous or violent. When confronted, they completely ignore us. Their only goal is to reach the vig, it seems." Jenassa pressed her lips together, something I realized she did whenever she was considering something. "I believe that whatever is in the vig is more worrisome than the gengangiren themselves."

The Jarl stood from his throne and slowly paced in front of it for a few moments. "Proventus," he said while staring at the floor.

"Yes, Jarl Balgruuf?" a bald man of about sixty with delicate features and a pot belly answered. His name sounded Roman, and I figured he was an Imperial. He was standing near the Jarl but was decidedly not a guard. I figured he was a steward, like Jorleif.

"Find for me three guards who are willing and able to join this group tomorrow or the next day." As he spoke, the Jarl walked to the banquet table to poor himself some wine. "Tell them what is happening. No surprises, hmm?"

"It will be done, Jarl Balgruuf." The steward walked off into the depths of the palace.

The seven of us stood in front of the empty throne, watching the Jarl sate his thirst. Balgruuf finally spoke again a short while later. "Did you know," he said, slowly, "that the orc-Dragonborn was at Riverwood when it was destroyed?"

I wasn't sure who the Jarl was speaking to. All of us looked to one another, not sure who should answer. Thankfully, the Jarl continued without much further pause.

"He arrived after the dragon, of course," he continued, staring into his goblet. "Guards later carted the bare bones back to Adrianne and Eorlund." I wasn't sure if I was supposed to know what that meant. "I fear what might have happened to those who lived there if my Thane had not been living with them. She helped them escape; those who lived, anyway. The orc did nothing to help the villagers, nothing aside from killing the dragon. Of course we are thankful for that; the dragon could have destroyed any number of towns…." The Jarl took another sip of wine. He then turned to me. "You know, I have been there – High Hrothgar. Ulfric and I both were."

"No," I replied, "I did not know you were there, too. Do all Jarls go there?"

Obviously not, judging by Jarl Balgruuf's odd expression. "No. It is a great honor to study The Voice…." Balgruuf stared into his goblet again. "Not everyone is given the chance." He gulped down the dregs, set the silver goblet back onto the table, and walked back to his throne. The Jarl assumed a ponderous position and studied me for a moment. "We have some time yet before you leave for Muna-glow. It might benefit you to talk of the Greybeards with me, since you did not get the chance with Ulfric." Again, Balgruuf's mouth quivered. I decided the man was trying to hide his body's natural reflex to one of two emotions – contrition or elation. I knew how he felt.

"I… yes, I would like that. Yrsarald only knew a few things about the Greybeards. It would be nice to know what I can expect."

"Indeed." The Jarl peered back at me from over his tented fingers. He appeared a bit expectant, suddenly. "Well, now is as good a time as any…."

"Oh, alright," I fidgeted nervously, and looked to Marcurio.

"Your companions may remain here. They are welcome to join us for dinner, though I apologize there are not enough rooms for them to spend the night." The Jarl stood again. "We can talk somewhere more private. It is a nice day – the Great Verund will do nicely." The man offered his hooked arm to me, offering to lead me to wherever he was planning to go. I froze, however, unsure of what to do. I had no idea where the Jarl wanted to take me, and I had no idea if he was a trustworthy man or not. Anxiety threatened to take over.

I was the epitome of the socially awkward penguin.

I turned again to Marcurio, who smiled encouragingly. And then I remembered what Jenassa had said about my house-servant. Her duty was to protect me. "I ask for my house-servant, Ingjard, to join us, as well as my friend Marcurio." I turned back to the Jarl, hoping the suggestion wasn't a huge offense. I smiled to hide my frustration, though, knowing full well that I had to give an excuse that wouldn't reveal the fact that I didn't trust Jarl Balgruuf. "Sometimes I need help understanding your language, and Marcurio is good at knowing when and how to help me." Marcurio is also very good at acting like royalty, if need be, I thought to myself. And he can freeze your feet to the ground if you try anything. "Ingjard will also be traveling with me to High Hrothgar. She should learn about it, too."

I feared the inevitable questions were coming. Everyone in my traveling party, including our cart driver, had learned of my origin, and I wondered how soon the entire world would follow. But the questions I had come to expect never arrived, and I was given only another questioning look.

"Very well," was all the Jarl said. He turned to the Dark Elf woman who was likely his house-servant. "Irileth," he said with a nod. He then waved us forward, and on we went up a set of stairs and eventually through two of the tallest, largest, ornate doors I'd ever seen, perhaps bigger than the doors to Windhelm's palace. When guards opened the doors, I literally gasped at the view.

What the Jarl had called a "great verund" was basically the largest, most impressive balcony in the world. Any world. The entire thing was made out of stone aside from wood planks that lined the arched overhang. White stones, inlayed between the normal grey, curved around two areas, the walkway and the dining area. The dining area was not under the arched roof, but could easily be moved there, I imagined. The view, though… the view was breathtaking. Near to the palace were rocky tundra hills, a wide, rushing river, and the occasional cluster of pine trees. In the distance were Alp-like mountains, one of which to the east dwarfing them all; it reminded me of the Matterhorn. I had seen the mountain from the north as we arrived, but it had been very hazy that day and I had not seen the entirety of it. Even now, it was partially covered by clouds. I suddenly felt an instinctive urge to whip out my camera – if only, I told myself. The palace at Windhelm boasted nothing like this balcony, nor this view, but that may have been due to the blustery winds and snow that occurred there almost daily.

I leaned on the balcony's stone parapet, gazing at the lumbering mountain to the east and landscape below. A few deer were walking leisurely along the riverbank.

"That's the Throat of the World," I heard Jarl Balgruuf say from behind me. I turned, somewhat startled by his closeness, and watched him walk up to my side to join me in taking in the view. A firm, almost warm breeze swept over the balcony, carrying with it a whiff of Balgruuf's flowery perfume. "It's a bit cloudy now," he continued, "but on the clearest days you can see High Hrothgar from here."

"How am I to go up there?" I asked him. "It looks impossible."

The Jarl chuckled. "Yes, from the west it is indeed impossible. The eastern side has steps that lead to the top. The nearest town is Ivarstead. Truly, the town's existence may be linked to the steps to High Hrothgar. Many ravundiniken pass through there, but little else. The farms there supply the Greybeards with food, though."

"How many days does the journey take?" I asked the Jarl.

"That depends on how fast you can klifar. I was young, just a boy, but with my guardian I made the journey from dawn to midday."

"Is it cold?"

"Very, especially at the top, at High Hrothgar itself. But, you were living in Windhelm and, I assume, Winterhold. Whatever you wore there should be noga." The Jarl turned to me then. "So, tell me, are you Thane of Windhelm?"

"Thane?" I asked, shifting my gaze from the mountain to the Jarl. "No. Why do you ask me that?"

"Because you have a house-servant." He indicated Ingjard, who had hung back a short distance with Marcurio and the Dark Elf woman called Irileth. They were all still within earshot.

"Oh, no. When Yrsarald became Jarl, he took a new house-servant because Galmar was always away, and he gave me one, too."

"Because you're Dragonborn?"

"I suppose yes. He knew I would soon travel a lot, and wanted me to be protected. The travelling came more quickly than I thought…."

"But surely you can protect yourself," the Jarl assumed. He shot me a knowing glance, one that said he already suspected the true reason Ingjard was hired for me.

I heard Marcurio clear his throat. I turned to him, and he pointed to his own left thumb.

The ring, I said to myself. Yrsarald's ring, on Yrsarald's woman. I turned back to Jarl Balgruuf. "Yes, I can protect myself. I have. Meridia also protects me. But more eyes and another sword do not hurt." I repeated the very words Yrsarald had said to me when justifying Ingjard's hiring. "Yrsarald insisted, because I am his companion. His unasta."

"Mm, indeed," the Jarl responded, not negatively or otherwise, simply acknowledging what he had already guessed. "I thought as much." Balgruuf then walked to his outdoor dining table and pulled out a chair for me. "Please, everyone, sit. It has been a long, long time since I talked of the Greybeards. We shall do so over food and wine."

Thank god, I thought to myself. I was unusually hungry for someone who had just eaten a normal-sized breakfast, something that had been a bit of a trend over the last week. And then I realized – I could finally, finally drink wine again! I loved Flavia and I had been more than happy to fulfill my role as birth mother and feed her, but wading through the muck that had been my life as of late, all the while stone cold sober, had been nearly unbearable. I tried not to bounce in my seat as a serving girl poured wine into a silver goblet right in front of my face.

Marcurio sat across from me with Irileth to his right. Ingjard sat at my left, and Balgruuf sat at the head of the table to my right. I wondered how comfortable Ingjard could have been in her armor which was hardly meant for sitting in ornately-carved wooden chairs, but both she and Stenvar had worn their steel armor all the way from Windhelm, so I figured their hide underarmor made it comfortable enough.

"Now, first," the Jarl began as some simple foods were set before us, "you mentioned not always understanding our language." Balgruuf gazed at me, filled goblet in hand. His eyes were incredibly expressive and steadfast, boring into me like syringes ready to suck out the truth. I suddenly had the feeling that the Jarl often knew more than he let on, perhaps about many things. "Tell me if I am correct – are you the 'mage woman from the future' my Thane has told me about?"

I nearly dropped my goblet, but somehow recovered elegantly without spilling a drop. I took a moderate sip before answering. I nodded. "That is what a friend once thought I was, before, when I did not know the true words to describe myself. I believe that is also what he told his family, and his family is now here, since Riverwood burned."

"Which family is that?" he asked.

"Gerdur, and her husband Hod, and their son… ehh… Frodnar, I think."

"Yes, I have met them. They live with my Thane, in fact. Have you seen them since your arrival, here?"

"No, Jarl Balgruuf. I have not seen Gerdur since I left Riverwood a long time ago, after her brother and I—"

The massive doors to the balcony opened loudly. In walked a tall figure in leather armor, sword sheathed. Ingjard stood from the table, perhaps thinking she would need to defend me, but the approaching figure did not appear to be in any hurry to run me through. When the figure stepped out from the shadow of the overhang, I realized it was a woman. She then removed her leather helmet which obscured part of her face. When she did so, a bounty of red curls sprung free from their previous confine. The approaching woman looked just like Ingjard.

Internally, my mind was exploding in a series of figurative fireworks. Jarl Balgruuf's Thane knew about me, the "mage woman from the future". Jarl Balgruuf's Thane lived with Gerdur and her family. Eyleif was Gerdur's soon-to-be sister-in-law. Eyleif was Ingjard's sister.

Jarl Balgruuf's Thane was Eyleif.

The redhead in leather stood firm in front of the redhead in steel. Their likeness was unmistakable. Not twins, but undeniably related.

"Sister," the woman with the red curls spoke to my house-servant, her lips curving into a tiny smirk.

"Sister," Ingjard replied in form.

A second later the two redheads were arm-in-arm in a familial embrace. Eyleif. Eyleif, Eyleif, Eyleif. I felt as though I might vomit up the wine I had been absentmindedly chugging. I felt someone kick my leather boot. I looked across from me to see Marcurio giving me a wide-eyed nod that said, "stand, too, idiot." But then Jarl Balgruuf stood, and I, Marcurio and Irileth followed.

"Thane Eyleif," the Jarl addressed the woman in leather, "I am pleased you were able to come. Though, I suppose news of your sister's arrival was enough of a vatin." Balgruuf then turned to me. "Eyleif, this is Deborah."

"Deborah?" Eyleif asked excitedly. She sounded exactly like Ingjard. "Ralof's friend from the future?"

"Ehh, yes…." Eyleif and I clasped forearms. "But…." I stopped myself, unsure of how to proceed. Eyleif's excited smile and bright eyes told me that I, being from the future, was something she was comfortable with, something she actually found interesting and positive, perhaps even beneficial. Our forearm clasp ended and I cleared my throat, buying myself a few more seconds. I glanced at Balgruuf to interpret his reaction. He was at least not looking terribly unpleasant. "But," I continued, "let's not tell too many people, alright? People might think the wrong thing, that I know what their own futures will be." Yes, good, I mentally patted myself on the back, good little liar. I caught a glimpse of Marcurio giving Ingjard a look and then subtly shaking his head.

"That is not exactly what you said just a moment ago," Balgruuf noted.

"What?" I turned to the Jarl. "What did I say?"

"That being from the future was not the truth," he reminded me, "and that you did not know how otherwise to describe yourself."

Fuck. "Oh, yes. Yes. What I meant was, I was not a mage in my time, before I came to this time. Magic does not exist in my time. The idea of magic and gods was very, very confusing for me. So, for me, for the gods – your gods to bring me back in time to help them was… scary. I felt as if I was in another world, you understand. The language in my time has changed so much from yours, I had to learn. In my time, we…," I swallowed hard, "we did not even know your people ever existed, so, I cannot know your future." I withheld my relieved sigh. "Ralof," I peered at Eyleif, briefly, "was a big, big help for learning to speak this language, and read it."

Jarl Balgruuf crossed his arms. He still did not wholly believe me. "The gods brought you from the future to kill the undead?"

"Yes," I nodded.

"Why?" Balgruuf raised his hand somewhat, a familiar, questioning gesture. "Jenassa, for instance, is perfectly capable of hunting gengangiren."

"Because," I expanded the lie, "Meridia saw what was happening in my time, and knew I could help, here, with my knowledge of the undead." Hell, if Meridia believed it…. "And Arkay saw my marks. My tattoos," I answered, honestly, repeating again what Meridia had told me. Time for a white lie. "I was fated to be here."

The Jarl's heavy gaze held fast; he rapped his fingers across his forearm. "What tattoos?"

I smiled, certainly blushing at least a tiny bit. "Apologies, Jarl Balgruuf. I cannot show you my tattoos without undressing."

Marcurio coughed, the sort of cough one feigned to cover laughter. I was cackling, myself, on the inside.

Eyleif giggled light-heartedly. "Gods, Balgruuf. What's next, will you demand she show you her painted skin?" The lover of Ralof, mother of his child turned to me with an apologetic smile. "Don't worry, Deborah." Her hand found purchase on my upper arm and gave an encouraging grasp. I nearly flinched away, but thankfully did not. "I believe you." The redhead then frowned, and her arm lowered to her side. "I hope it is true, that you are Dragonborn. The gods must have realized their mistake when they gifted that orc with the same honor. What he did to Ulfric was completely oretala. That must be why the gods found you, a future Dragonborn, and brought you here to help us. They knew the orc's honor had faded, or that he never had any at all."

Sure, why not. "Yes, it is as you said, but… Torug, that is the orc's name, still has a purpose. Meridia says he alone can do what he was made to do, and that I cannot kill him, yet. He is too strong. We will have our revenge, though, in time. This she promised me."

"Torug…," Eyleif repeated the name. "You know, one of the villagers from Riverwood made a sketch of him. We have made copies and sent it to the other Jarls, but no one has yet seen him. I will show it to you, later, and you can tell me if it is truly the same orc. Oh!" the woman nearly exploded with whatever she wanted to tell me next, her dark green eyes flashing with joy. "You must come to my home. Gerdur will be so happy to see you again! And you must meet my son, Sighulf! It's a shame Ralof is not here right now, but he will be in not too long. I hope you can stay for a while until he gets here; he misses you!"

"Enough, Eyleif," Jarl Balgruuf said. "We were discussing High Hrothgar. We will see you at dinner."

The woman sighed a whine. "Yes, of course, Jarl Balgruuf." Eyleif smiled at me, gently grasped my forearm for a brief moment, and then gave her sister one final hug before leaving the balcony.

Ingjard turned to me, eyebrow cocked and expression failing to convey something.

Without a word, Balgruuf returned to his seat, and the four of us followed. "Where were we…?" The Jarl picked up a clump of grape-like fruit that people called "jazbays" and popped one into his mouth.

"Ehh, High Hrothgar is cold," I answered, "and I am a Dragonborn from the future."

"Well," the Jarl began, "if you are not Dragonborn, the Greybeards will know it, and we won't have to worry about any of this."

I suddenly felt defiant. "If I was not Dragonborn I would not know, understand, and speak the dragon words. Shouts, you call them. Meridia tells me I am Dragonborn as Torug is. I believe her, and I believe my own mind and actions."

A satisfied smile crept across Balgruuf's face. "Very well," he said, popping another grape into his mouth. "The Greybeards are, normally, old men, Nords, who pray to Kyne using the Thu'um. The Storm Voice. These are the dragon words that make up the Shouts. What concerns me is that you said in your time, there are no gods, no magic." The Jarl leaned forward and demanded my full attention. "If you have known no gods of your own and only now know of ours, how can you properly pray to Kyne as the Greybeards do?" He shook his head. "I am also concerned, young Deborah, that the Greybeards did not call for you, and that your instructions to travel to High Hrothgar are coming from a Daedra Lord who may have her own jaren. But, you wish to go, and, so, I will prepare you. I only ask that, once you arrive at High Hrothgar, that you carry with you a message from me of greetings and minon."

I looked to Marcurio. "'Minon'?"

"That he remembers them with happiness," my friend responded.

"Oh." I turned back to the Jarl. "Yes, I can do that."

"Good." Balgruuf recommenced eating grapes and sipping wine interchangeably.

I myself picked up a pastry that looked like it was covered in some kind of chopped nut. It tasted amazing. I washed it down with some of the best wine I ever tasted before speaking again. "What are the Greybeards like? All I know is that they are old men. With beards."

"Quiet," Balgruuf said. "None of them speak, save two. At least that is how it was when I was there. I left the mountain to come home almost thirty years ago. If the same men are alive, then they must all be quite old. Rarely do people introduce themselves to the Greybeards, lysig that they wish to join them. I would be there now, still, if my sister had not died." He took a long, generous sip of wine.

"Why do they not speak?" I asked him.

"I suppose you felt their call, the one meant for the orc?"

I nodded. "It was like an earth-shake."

"Indeed. That is the power of their voice, their Thu'um. When spoken all at once, calling out to someone, they create storms above the mountain, above Whiterun, and the ground trembles. From some of them, even a whisper is too much for our ears and the earth to bear, and so, they keep their mouths closed, using their hands to communicate, if necessary. But, if you are indeed Dragonborn, you will be able to listen to their voices and Thu'um without going eyrnarla."

I turned to Marcurio. "No longer hearing," he said, somehow knowing exactly what word I had trouble with.

"Is that why, when Ulfric shouted at the dragon, I heard only thunder? It hurt my ear."

"Yes," Balgruuf answered, his facial muscles once again straining against emotion. "That is exactly what the Thu'um sounds like to the untrained ear."

I sighed, wondering if that is what I had sounded like when I had breathed fire, but none of those in attendance that day were here. I looked up at Jarl Balgruuf and pursed my lips, deliberating. "Do you want to see me shout the dragon words?"

Marcurio huffed a laugh. "I certainly do."

I smiled at my friend and then returned my gaze to the Jarl.

"Which Shouts do you know?" Balgruuf asked. "I am admittedly curious."

"I can tell you the words I know," I offered.

"Just show me," the Jarl replied gruffly.

"Laas," I breathed harmlessly. Everyone around me and several birds flying by lit up a bright red. "You cannot see what I see, though. I can see life through walls, this way. When a dragon says this word, they can even see mice underground."

The Jarl scoffed. "What do you mean, when dragons say the word? How would you know this?"

"When the dragon's soul entered me – I think it mixed with mine – I saw life as the dragon did, a memory from the recent past. I was flying as he did. That is how I learned the dragon words. But the memory faded with the pain. I no longer hear or feel him."

"What sort of pain was it?"

I thought a moment. "Truly? It was like un-birthing a child. Taking one back inside my body. But, the pain was all over, not only in my mother-stomach. Perhaps a dragon soul is no small thing."

The Jarl appeared somewhat appalled by the analogy, but nonetheless satisfied with the answer. He sipped again his wine. "The Thu'um is a gift from Kyne to her children," he uttered. "The ancient Nords knew how to use it. The ancient Nords knew what it meant. Do you feel her – Kyne – when you speak the 'dragon words'?"

My lips twitched into a small frown. "No," I admitted, "I don't know. I don't know what it should feel like to feel a goddess." I felt my brow crease as I pondered the matter. "I do know that Kyne felt sorry for me, when I was brought here. Meridia said that Kyne helped people be patient with me as I learned the language. Perhaps that is what she has done – made me, and others, patient; made me quick to learn. And…."

"And?"

I tongued a bit of crushed nut out of my teeth and sipped from my goblet before continuing. "Two things that make me curious. First, after I took the dragon's soul into me, I heard the dragon's voice inside my head until I spoke the fire word. After that, the voices went away and never returned. It is as if the dragon inside me wanted me to speak the words I learned from its soul. And, later, I spoke with Meridia again. After speaking with her, I felt…." I sighed, unsure how to describe the feeling. "I felt good. Warm…. Loved. A quick feeling that went away, fast. And then I felt dizzy. And then I felt hungry." I stressed the word, complete with clenched fists and jaw. "I am still hungry. Too hungry. And, my milk has dried. I was still breastfeeding before I came here, but I have almost nothing now and it has only been two months. I was fine until that… warm, good feeling came and I got hungry." I sipped again my wine and turned to the Jarl. "Do you suppose those things are 'feeling' the goddess Kyne?"

Balgruuf's eyes were for once expressing surprise. Slowly, his brow lowered and his head bobbed in a slow nod. "Indeed. Indeed. Well, I can't say I have ever heard a dragon's voice in my mind, of course, but I am familiar with that feeling. The warm, loved feeling. It did not make me hungry, though, but very energetic." The Jarl smiled and his gaze shifted to dead space, as if he was remembering something fondly. "I felt it most when I was younger; I would run around High Hrothgar, making my guardian crazy."

"Kyne's Blessing," Ingjard murmured. I turned to her. "Her blessing. It… makes one feel stronger, and yes, more energetic. Almost like drinking a gathal potion."

"And it can make someone hungry?" I asked her.

She shrugged. "It is possible."

I silently wondered if Kyne's "blessing" stole Flavia's milk from my breasts. I turned back to Balgruuf. "Anyway…. No, Jarl Balgruuf, I don't think I feel the goddess when I speak the dragon words, but I do know that my body wants me to speak them."

I stood then from the table, picked up an apple from a silver bowl, and walked over to the parapet. I set the apple on the edge of the wall, and turned to make sure the Jarl, Irileth, Marcurio and Ingjard were watching. I then noticed the two guards posted on either side of the overhang were also looking on.

I had never used the third dragon shout I knew, the one that started with the word fus, force. The phrase Fus Ro Dah made the earth and even dragons tremble – this I had witnessed. I wondered what only the first word would do to a harmless apple.

I positioned myself in such a way that everyone watching could see me and what I was doing, but so that whatever I was about to shout only hit the apple. I briefly worried that the power of whatever was about to happen would ruin the parapet, but convinced myself the notion was silly.

Standing removed from everyone, I looked down from the balcony and saw no one beneath us. I didn't want to send an apple plummeting from the heavens only to knock someone unconscious. I took several steps back from the parapet, taking deep breaths as I did so. Remember to actually shout, I told myself.

One. Two. Three. After my fourth breath I shouted the simple word at the innocent apple. In my own ears I could hear the word clearly – fus – but the reverberation from the shockwave that the shout created made the balcony tremble, if only a little, and I heard a distant rumbling. I watched the small red apple fly away from me until gravity took hold and it curved down and out of sight. I ran to the parapet to follow its path, but we were too high up for me to see where it had landed.

I turned grinning to the onlookers, only to have my triumph wiped clean by their pained expressions. Their hands were planted on their ears, but only Balgruuf was more annoyed than astonished. Marcurio looked like he had just shit his pants.

Jarl Balgruuf lowered his hands and nodded, slowly. "Alright, Dragonborn from the future, I believe you. But… don't do that again, here."

AN: Up next, traveling to the "vig", and Deborah finally realizes she's been holding herself back.

If anyone is curious about Deborah or has any burning questions, she now has her own RP/Ask blog at: childofakatosh DOT tumblr DOT com. Ask her anything!

Responding to comments: LaBanana, woohoo! Thanks for reading. Glad you're caught up. It's like running through a television show on Netflix. Now you're all caught up and have to wait once a week for new episodes. Also, I'm so, so happy to hear someone say that Marcurio and Bird are their favorites. I can assure you that Deborah feels the same way. If Yrsarald hadn't liked them, oh boy, that might have been a deal-breaker! Answering your question, I really really really want to bring Brelyna back, but not just yet. She will at least have a moderate role to play in the third installment. xShadowmere, thanks so much for your kind words. You made my day! Deb will not have to wait too long to at least have a guess as to what is going on with those "warm fuzzies"…. Guest, I'm not sure, but I'm pretty sure which book you're talking about. And, no, I have not read it save for a brief sampling to see what all the fuss is about (I wasn't impressed). Julie5, Deb was SUPER EXCITED OMG!1 to see mammoths. Understandably, though. It's kind of like seeing a dinosaur. Beawr, CHOCOLATE! Ugh, she wishes. Duesal10, thankfully Deb won't *have* to marry anyone. Hopefully others figured out the players in the dream…!