Skuldafn:
If there's one thing Odahviing was right about when we departed from Dragonsreach, it's that I will envy the dragons for the rest of my days for their ability to fly. Not only was the view and freedom Odahviing gave us on his back almost beyond belief, but the weather itself was fair enough to give us a clear view of Whiterun's great plains. Given that the dragons find this freedom in their daily lives with such ease, I imagine that even without the Thu'um they would've been the envy of mortals. It's no wonder the Dwemer tried to unlock the secrets of flight, knowing that birds and dragons alike had already experienced this level of freedom since the beginnings of time. I was almost as impressed with his ability to carry all three of us without much bother as the flight itself, given our combined weight. Given how a dragon's body appears to be nearly all muscle though, I shouldn't have been surprised when a few mortals riding on his back wouldn't be a tipping point for Odahviing.
We made excellent time to no one's surprise, arriving deep in Skyrim's mountain ranges within hours, and landing in Skuldafn mere moments later. Odahviing made it known he'd swear true fealty to Baldur if he were to emerge victorious, and while I would've protested the dragon leaving us stranded, I couldn't blame him given the likelihood he'd be killed because of his betrayal of Alduin. Thus, while Odahviing left and awaited the result of the climactic battle in the afterlife, we were left to traverse the temple. To call the temple impressive would be an understatement by all our accounts, to be sure. Though not as massive as Labyrinthian, Skuldafn more than made up for its lack of size in the detail of its arches and the unimaginable efforts it must've taken to heave the great stones of the place up the mountainside. I imagine that if any architects ever witnessed this place themselves they'd likely spend the rest of their days attempting to figure out how such a magnificent place was created so long ago, but I digress.
Despite the temple's awe-inspiring size and beauty, it was unsurprisingly teeming with the most formidable of the once-cultist Draugr, and what we first thought was only two elder dragons. Given our high spirits and experience with both threats before us, it wasn't long before – despite their numbers – we cut a swathe through their ranks, leaving Baldur a clear space to ensnare the two dragons with his Thu'um. That having been said, the seniority of the dragons' shouts became clear once the ground battle began. They were unable to flee, yes, but they'd spent millennia honing their shouts into a perfect weapon, and it took considerably more time to deal with the pair than we'd hoped, though a particularly strenuous fight it was not. Whether our slow but steady victory was a product of our experience or the dragons' lack of combat in millennia, we did not know, but given our later encounter with another pair I'm inclined to believe the former.
By midday we'd reached the portal to Sovngarde, guarded by no more than two more elder dragons, and a Dragon Priest who boldly announced his name - Nahkriin. He was a very adept user of destruction magic, I'll give him that, but he was nonetheless clearly weaker than Morokei with the Staff of Magnus in terms of sheer power. I will confess though, that if it was just me and Glorel embarking on this mission, the fight might very well have been just as difficult as with Morokei's, given the pair of elder dragons also guarding the place. While I was dueling Nahkriin, Glorel and Baldur were fast at work dealing with the other two elder dragons one-on-one, Glorel buffeting her target with arrows and Baldur making the most of his poisons and Dragonrend. By the time we emerged victorious, we were luckily none the worse for wear, and the portal to Sovngarde was open to us thanks to Nahkriin's staff. While we needed the staff to unlock the portal, I left his mask where he died. I desire no more power than what I already have, and I imagine collecting more masks would only draw a target on my back for anyone with an unhealthy obsession for ancient artifacts and enchantments.
We've since made a point to pause and catch our breath before we enter the Nords' afterlife, which has given me enough time to write down a few final notes before we meet Alduin for what will absolutely be the decisive battle of the crisis. I considered myself lucky to have found Glorel and acceptance in the College of Winterhold not too long ago, and yet here I am now, accompanying the Last Dragonborn on his prophesized quest. It wasn't long ago I'd never so much as seen a Man, let alone become something of a minor hero and Thane to even the most vehemently anti-magic of their number. If only Vyrthur could see me now, I imagine he'd be shocked beyond belief. If not for what I've learned and seen, then the fact I now possess the Staff of Magnus. Though, if we make it out of this battle alive, I hardly plan to return to the Chantry to gloat. Let Vyrthur have his peace, and I'll make the most of mine traveling Tamriel, so long as the divines have nothing more planned for me in terms of grand battles and prophecies.
I was thinking of sending a prayer to the divines to watch over us when we enter the portal, but given we're about to enter their realm, I imagine they already will be.
Sovngarde:
When we arrived in Sovngarde, I knew only as much as Glorel had told me of the place, which admittedly wasn't much. She described the place from what she'd heard as an endless land of rolling hills and forests ripe with game, with the Hall of Valor's imposing visage in the distance a reward for those souls strong enough to traverse the long path there. For those who made it, they'd be rewarded with endless feasts, drinking contests, tests of combat prowess, and general merriment galore – a Nord's paradise.
What I saw when we arrived hardly resembled that beautiful land Glorel had heard of however. Alduin had wove a soul-eating and light-consuming mist around the forest that led to the Hall of Valor, feasting on the bounty of souls that fell in the civil war and obscuring the landscape in a thick grey blanket. Thanks to Baldur's clear skies shout though, we were able to make our way through the mist and reach the Hall of Valor either unnoticed or ignored by Alduin as he regained his strength.
Despite the thick mist that obscured our view of Sovngarde within the entryway and the forest, the Hall of Valor's brilliant glow served to grant us sight when we emerged from the soul-snare. For the first time, I felt like Sovngarde was much more than simply an uncharted land. I saw Magnus – usually so far out of reach – nearly encompass a third of Sovngarde's sky, and I felt a power beyond that which I'd ever experienced. Both myself and the staff seemed empowered, and I can only imagine that was either divine blessing or the staff's closeness to Aetherius bringing forth new power to the artifact.
Whatever the case, as we were still making our way to the hall, I was sure to make a mental note of what else encompassed the sky – the constellations of the Mage, the Warrior, and the Thief. It struck me as fitting in a way, for our small party to align so well with the constellations perfectly. It's almost as if the Dragonborn was destined to have two fitting companions, born under complimentary constellations to their own, but whether this was coincidence or the divines' plan, I doubt I will ever know. What I do know though is that if my firsthand experience in Sovngarde taught me anything, it's that my assumption of every culture possessing some validity in their beliefs is more than true. I don't believe if we were to ever tell anyone this that they would believe us, but it's at least confirmation for myself and Glorel that our curiosity of other cultures is far from foolish.
As if the revelations I'd been experiencing weren't enough thus far, Tsun had another surprise for us. The God of Trials told all three of us that we had a place in Sovngarde, that despite my own and Glorel's status as Mer that Sovngarde is a place for all honorable souls. Whether you are Dragonborn, a member of the Companions, a practitioner of magic, or a grunt in the civil war, so long as the divines see you worthy you'll have a place in Shor's Hall according to him. Though we both gave our thanks and certainly appreciated the knowledge, I think I speak for Glorel and myself when I say we both look forward to our faith's afterlives with greater fervor than for Sovngarde. For Baldur though, it's clear that he more than looks forward to the day he can return to Sovngarde – or any afterlife for that matter – now that he knows he's in the divines' good graces.
After a brief display of our talents in a duel against Tsun – a claim I know sounds like it'd come out of the mouth of a drunk, I know – we were permitted cross the whalebone bridge to the city-sized hall. Within the Hall of Valor was all the festivity Glorel had described, as well as the three ancient heroes Baldur had seen through the Elder Scroll. They informed us of the nature of the mist, and that together with the Dragonborn they could dispel it enough to force Alduin to confront us, once and for all. We only spent a fleeting moment in the hall, but I more than understood why the Nords idolized the place. That said, I still looked forward to our quick exit after one of the heroes of Sovngarde gave me a death glare and started making his way through the crowd. Though I imagine the divines would never let a living man's blood be spilt in the afterlife when they were sent on a quest like the one we were on, I still feared that brute of a man's glare for one simple reason.
That man was none other than Ysgramor himself, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out what was running through his head when he saw a Snow Elf in Sovngarde. The man had barely escaped Saarthal on the Night of Tears and spent the rest of his days exacting his vengeance upon my people, and to see one of his sworn enemies in Shor's Hall? I can't imagine either of us would've left that confrontation none the worse for wear. If nothing else, it gave me another reason to look forward to my own people's afterlife.
I quickly shook off the incident as best I could, taking solace in the fact no one seemed to have noticed Ysgramor, and thus wouldn't be questioning me later about why I'd broken out into a brief cold sweat. Besides, Baldur and the three heroes were too busy at work clearing the forest with their combined Thu'um of Alduin's mist to care, and Glorel was obviously readying herself to let out a war cry like none she'd ever unleashed before. At that point, I came to the sound conclusion that Sovngarde tended to amplify the very core of anyone who traversed the place – living or dead.
I wasn't left to my musings for long though, and Alduin made his final approach, drawing the world-spanning mist in like a fishing net for all the power the souls ensnared would provide him. Despite him having been on the back foot and our number having doubled, his blood red eyes never failed to give us pause and Alduin the opportunity for bring forth his hail of fire once again. Despite that, with three legends and three legends-in-the-making combining blade, Thu'um, and spell to destroy the World Eater, it wasn't long before Alduin was no more. While words would fail to describe the battle, I will say this. That if you could imagine the force of an avalanche coalesced into the strength of a single man, you'd still be leagues away from being able to fathom the scale of the last battle against the World Eater.
From across the whalebone bridge we could hear the triumphant cheers of the heroes that'd not been permitted to help by Shor, and Tsun was the first to congratulate us up close – no surprise, given we'd just overcome the greatest trials any mortals could be given right in front of the God of Trials. Where he bestowed upon Baldur a shout that would summon forth the three ancient heroes that'd helped us, Tsun granted Glorel and I something equally valuable. Where magic might once have been a threat to our souls where necromancy or Daedric Princes were concerned, we have been blessed with our very souls being bolstered against all magics that would serve to undo their purity. Whether it be one of the many soul-claiming "gifts" of the Daedra or an enthralling curse, neither will ever be able to claim our souls, and for that I am eternally grateful. Also, while it wasn't entirely necessary, the added benefit of being immune to disease is quite the bonus of our pure souls. Now we only need to fear a vampire or werewolf's infectious touch as much as a minor cold, which always helps where the Daedra's chosen are concerned.
Having finished granting us our divine blessings, Tsun then hastened our journey back to Skyrim by quite literally shouting us back to the land of the living. A moment of weightlessness and adjusting to our presence in a snow flurry later, we were standing atop the Throat of the World's summit again, with no less than at least two dozen dragons present watching us. Needless to say, we were immediately on edge, and I would've raised a ward in our defense if not for Glorel pointing out Paarthurnax sitting peacefully among them.
It appeared that in our absence, not only had Odahviing noticed that Alduin's reign was reaching its end, but so too did many of Alduin's followers realize that their former lord's Thu'um was no longer uncontested. As they echoed one another's praises of the Dragonborn's power, Paarthurnax and Odahviing made their presence known once more. Odahviing made good on his promise, and now is willing to serve Baldur whenever he needs aid, so long as he could reach Baldur where he calls from, that is. Paarthurnax expressed how he'd never felt more alive in when Alduin was defeated, and while he will not quite celebrate the death of his once-brother, he will relish in spreading his own philosophy of peacefully honing one's Thu'um with the rest of dragonkind. Whether they will heed his words or not remains to be seen, but I've no doubt that Paarthurnax will turn many of Alduin's followers to a less destructive way of life.
Once the cluster of dragons had either flown off to their own lairs or followed Paarthurnax off who knows where, our final descent for the foreseeable future began. Despite it being night and abominably cold in Glorel's opinion, we didn't go far before Baldur realized what it meant to have a dragon's loyalty. While Odahviing made a point to express he wasn't to be our means of transport constantly, he didn't refuse to aid us in the aftermath of our victory, and we made it back to Whiterun by sunrise.
We were the first to spread the news of Alduin's defeat, and the ensuing festivities have worn on throughout the day, much to Baldur and Glorel's amusement – I've even spotted Skjor letting down his gruff exterior in the wake of our victory. In fact, the merriment was so infectious that even the most opposed great families concerning the civil war in Whiterun have banded together in song and recognition of what we've done. As if the praise of Sovngarde's heroes and the rewards of the divines wasn't enough, Balgruuf made a point to give us as much coin we could carry, as well as grant us each property in his city, before inviting us to a grand celebration of our victory. While I don't think Glorel and I will settle down in Whiterun, however nice a city it may be, I think it'll be good to have a place to call our own. There's still much of Tamriel both of us would like to see before we even consider settling down, I think. Besides, we both enjoy the nomadic lifestyle for all the adventure and learning opportunities it brings, so why chain ourselves down?
Thoughts about the future and our new home aside, I plan on letting go of moderation for once and drown away the night with some mead. If saving the world isn't an occasion to join in on some indulgence with my loved one and close friend, I don't know what is. With any luck, I'll still be sober enough by the end of the night to guide us through the city to our new home, but I won't hold my breath. If there's one thing Glorel's taught me from her time with the Companions, it's that once you embrace the celebrations of a great victory, you aren't going home anywhere close to clear-headed.
Authors Note: And so ends the main questline arc! Man, towards the end I had to really think hard about how not to have Sindri and Glorel bombastically overshadowed by Baldur. Like, I spent a solid hour thinking about what their reward could be but then once I started thinking about where they're headed next… it's probably for the best their souls are incorruptible. At any rate, I look forward to the next arc, and I hope you do too! Dawnguard's gonna be a doozy, given the whole arc is prophesized by Vyrthur in canon, and… well, to say things are different in this fic would be an understatement.
Just a fair warning though; Dawnguard is gonna be a lot shorter than its in-game counterpart. Partly because I suck, partly because giving the super-pious Sindri and Glorel a reason to make friends with a vampire would be hell, and partly because 90% of the fumbling around in that questline is because no one knows what Auri-El's Bow is or where it's located.
TL;DR: There's gonna be some, shall we say… narrative budget cuts in Dawnguard, and the Story of Sindri Lorebinder will be coming to it's end, but that's for another author's note!