"The acoustic qualities of High Hrothgar have long been overlooked. You could Shout to the whole world from there."
~Unknown Dragonborn
-B-
"Master Arngeir? Master Wulfgar?" I called as I swung into High Hrothgar, accompanied by the wind blowing the smoke of Kathutet's disappearance in after me.
If he wasn't pleased to be called only when I was fighting dragons, he was equally displeased to find out he'd been left out when I was fighting dragons. I wished he'd make up his mind. Still, I was glad of his company while making the trip up to High Hrothgar. The snows had begun in earnest, there, which made travel even more treacherous. Add in my still-aching ankle and going up alone would have been foolhardy.
"Dragonborn," Master Arngeir declared, coming out of one of the wings, followed rapidly by the others. "We'd begun to worry."
"Long story," I sighed, but immediately brightened. "But, I have your Horn!" I swung my pack off and pulled the Horn in its wrappings out, unwrapped it, and held it out to Master Arngeir, who took it, smiling as he did so.
"Good. Very good." Arngeir lowered the Horn, studying me, "Then it is time for us to formally recognize you. Stand there, in the center of the room." He declared, picking up my pack and moving it well out of the way, nestling the Horn back in it.
I obeyed, watching as he and the other masters all took up stations around me, boxing me in. I tensed, the hairs on the back of my neck rising, muscles tensing.
"Prepare yourself," Arngeir said, "to taste the Thu'um of the Greybeards."
I took a moment to center myself, then nodded, grateful that they didn't just slam me with Thu'um on short notice. Deep in my guts stirred a rustle of excitement at being put to the testing; it was dragonish but…not completely.
Their Thu'um rattled my sinuses, buffeted me on all sides, the words infused with power, shaking the room just as I do when my control slips. This time, though, it was concentrated, potent, more than words but power without definite form. I finally understood, really understood what Thu'um, the 'Storm Voice' actually meant. Their words pounded against my eardrums, rattled the stones of the building, nearly obscured what they were saying. In the same way Sahloknir and Alduin's dragonspeech rolled and undulated, so too did the speech of the Greybeards. I might have understood some of the words, but being caught in the turmoil I couldn't focus on them.
And then they fell silent, leaving me with ringing ears and stunned senses, my breathing harsh in the quietude as though I'd just repelled some kind of attack. I felt a little shaken, but not terribly so. No more than I would have been if I'd been fighting the high winds of a storm that thundered at close distance.
Before I could ask, Arngeir repeated the chant in the Common tongue. He probably assumed I'd missed some (or quite a bit) of what had been said. I was a little distracted, after all, by Thu'um form four directions.
"Long has the Stormcrown languished, with no worthy brow to sit upon. By our breath we bestow it now to you in the name of Kyne, in the name of Shor, and in the name of Atmora of Old. You are Ysmir now, the Dragon of the North, hearken to it."
The words seemed to chill my blood, as if something in my mind settled into place. I knew what it was: it was the door to the life I might have led, were I not Dragonborn, shutting. I accepted it, strangely enough. Maybe because I knew walking away wasn't really an option, and it was better to choose to jump into the fire than to be dragged into it. The thoughts were comforting, in their own way.
"The same words were used to greet the young Talos, when he came to High Hrothgar, before he became the Emperor Tiber Septim," Arngeir noted.
"Really?" A thought suddenly struck me. An insidious practically heretical thought. I didn't ask, but it occurred to me to wonder that if Dragonborn could absorb the souls of dragons, and if that absorption brought additional knowledge…
…suddenly, I found myself wondering if there wasn't a completely logical explanation for how he'd ascended to godhood…and that this reasoning might justify the Aldmeri Dominion's assertion that Talos was 'not a god.' Apotheosized, perhaps, but not in the usual way for the usual reasons…
I squished the notion as quickly as I could. That's more than I need to worry about; I'm no student of the religious orders and I'm not interested in the…
…or maybe I should be, I realized. If his apotheosis was somehow linked to absorbing dragon souls…what might happen to me now that there are dragons returning? What nasty ideas might someone like Delphine get? Or what might happen if someone like the Thalmor or some clever necromancer, learned how to duplicate what I do 'naturally' (for want of a better word)?
I shuddered at the thoughts, tried not to think about the various possibilities that might come of this, and resolved not to kill dragons unless I absolutely had to…and never to bring up my suspicions about old Tiber Septim.
"I…we need to talk," I declared, a little stiffly, "I need advice. Do you have time?" I don't know why I asked that, maybe because I knew any conversation touching on my questions and concerns would be long. Anything touching on why I'd taken so long to come back—and I felt sure this would also come up—would take longer.
"This is the perfect time, and you may have all that you need," Arngeir said, reassuringly. "Rest and recuperate. I sense your journey has been taxing."
I flexed my shoulders, then nodded agreement to this.
-B-
It turned out to be a good thing that we discussed my most pressing concerns and fears first. Not because the answers I got were both practical and reassuring—very much so—but because the moment I mentioned Delphine's interference, told them that she claimed to be a member of the Blades, Arngeir's expression contorted into lines of deepest disgust, as if I'd shoved something foul and loathsome under his nose.
"What? What's wrong?" I asked, stiffening.
Arngeir pursed his lips, seemed to consider what he wanted to say or how much he wanted to tell me. "The Blades were born of dragon-hating crusaders. They still carry that legacy, although they may not remember from whence it came," he answered darkly.
I frowned. "I thought dragon fighters were needed? A long, long time ago, I mean."
"Rebellion against the dragon overlords was necessary, yes," Arngeir explained patiently, "But the Blades went further than balance would have allowed. They carried out a genocide of dragons when they arrived in Tamriel. They ended up being an organization that was nothing without its hate: they turned to the slaughter of creatures simply because the creature was there. That is no good basis for an organization." He looked me square in the eye, expression grave, "And with your help, they will do it again."
"I never signed on for that!" I barked, Thu'um thrumming in my voice, outraged that he could think so little of me despite being my first teacher. "I-I…what I do to them is unnatural! It's…perverse! I wouldn't—I couldn't—" I found myself stammering in distress rather than sputtering in anger. If a dragon is minding its own scaly business and not interfering with anyone else's…why shouldn't it be left alone? We leave giants alone as long as they mind their own business. Same with wild animals.
Maybe I had to be there, when the lizards were powerful, to really understand. But with my current comprehension and views of the world…Alduin's a problem, the problem…but take him away and what remains?
Assuming he can be taken away…
Arngeir cocked his head. "It is the way of the Dragonborn," he responded simply.
"Well," I answered proudly and not a bit sullenly, "it's not my way." It's still unnatural. This isn't like dealing with draugr or vampires or whatever. The two issues are completely different.
"Bellona," Arngeir pressed earnestly, "I speak with your interests at heart: do not ally with them unless you absolutely must. And even then, be very, very careful. I say this as your mentor, and as your friend."
She'll use you. Kathutet's words now had some support, and support from a trusted source. "What, exactly, am I being careful against?" I've braced for one thing and been confronted with something totally different than what I expected before. It's unpleasant, to say the least, and sometimes dangerous.
"Pride," Arngeir said flatly, "it is true that the Dragonborn is capable of slaying dragons with more ease than most. Do not let it become a point of pride, something to be paraded around in return for wealth and accolades. You have the soul of a dragon; it is unbecoming to slaughter your brethren purely for your own advancement."
I agreed with him, there—though I don't know that I'd call the dov my 'brethren. We're rather at odds right now. "Delphine said I could kill a dragon permanently. Is-can't other people do it, too? Do you have to be Dragonborn for a dragon you kill to stay dead?" I asked.
Arngeir considered, then shrugged. "Who can say? Such secrets have long since been lost. Perhaps her words were meant to court your favor…but perhaps there is a benefit of your growing up among monastics."
Which benefit he meant I didn't know—I could spot several—so I didn't ask for clarification. "She said the Blades existed to protect and guide the Dragonborn," I pointed out.
Arngeir didn't take this as an argument, merely accepted it as me questing for knowledge, for understanding. "She may even believe it. But I would watch her and see whether or not her words ally with her actions. The Blades have not had a Dragonborn to 'guide and protect' in over two hundred years. Now, suddenly, when they are at their weakest, the lowest point in their long history…here you are." He gestured to me. "I warn you to exercise caution. Be observant. Be careful who you trust. Make your own decision on who is and is not deserving of it, as well as when and how your gifts might be used. We stay here, atop our mountain and take little part in the world below—often to the chagrin of those who must cope with such things. The Blades live in the world, and move through it as we do not and are more visible to you day to day. We are creatures of meditation, of study, reverencing the gift that is the Thu'um. You are a creature of change and of action. We cannot ask you to be anything but what you are. Hence, why we do not insist that you stay here, with us, where you are safe. But I implore you to remember what you have learned of us, and of the compassion, trueness of soul, and courage that led you to your Order of Resters."
It showed, I thought, that he really did entertain a good opinion of me to speak so plainly and so fairly, despite his distaste for the Blades. His speech left me with a sense of inner stillness, not unlike I'd felt after the Thu'um buffeting me had stopped. "Thank you, Master Arngeir, for your council on this matter." And I meant it. "This brings me around to another concern…"
My biggest concern—that I was turning into some kind of dragon-human fusion—was put to rest. I wasn't changing, really. I was simply…developing as a person. I might have some alteration in my motivations—Arngeir said he recognized the hoarding of treasure—but I wouldn't turn into a complete monster overnight or accidentally.
He seemed to think my conscience was enough to keep me from that end.
Arngeir explained what he could, but in a way that left me sure I would need to talk to a real dragon to really get the information I needed.
And, right now, that's hardly an option. I wish it were otherwise.
-B-
I stayed five days with the Greybeards, partly because I liked the peace and quiet of High Hrothgar, partly because the storms were bad enough for the first two days that travel would have been suicidal.
Arngeir found for me books in the library about the Blades, which seemed like objective accounts. On the whole, the group seemed very shady, indeed, though I still wondered about Delphine and her 'purpose' now. As I thought about it, and I knew part of this was due to Arngeir's distaste of the Blades, it seemed like she was grasping at straws, at a way to come out of obscurity.
If you ask me, she ought to be striking back at the Thalmor, not at dragons in general. Alduin as a specific case, yes, but her grudge is with the Thalmor, so why take it out on something else? That just doesn't make sense to me.
Of course, they are a major political power and dragons are just dragons…but even that sounds like a poor attempt to deflect what was really wrong onto someone—something—else. I actually felt sorry for her, after a fashion. But I also felt irritated: the Blades had two hundred years to evolve. Even with the devastating blows dealt by the Thalmor in recent time, surely they could have rebuilt in secret. Or found resistance movements (if there are any). Or just…I don't know.
Maybe I'm being naïve, but it occurs to me that Delphine is damn lucky that a Dragonborn happened to occur in her lifetime. What if I hadn't?
Maybe that's what's really driving her: she knows the answer to 'what if there was no Dragonborn' better than I do and can't bear the thought of spending the rest of her life cooking stew and renting rooms. Again, I felt a surge of pity for her.
But pity tempered with caution.
A caution I began to feel, ever so slightly, towards the Greybeards—as up-front as Arngeir was, the undertone that he wished he could counsel me to stay at High Hrothgar, hidden from the world, was present.
She'll use you.
I shuddered. Is that what it's going to be for the rest of my life? Wondering who's going to try to use me, or rather the legend of the Dragonborn?
The shudders stopped. If the Thalmor want the Blades…I can't see them leaving me alone forever. The feeling of being hunted by everyone intensified. Where does the line between caution and paranoia begin? The idea that I might not be able to trust anyone I don't trust already left me feeling colder than any ambient temperature could do.
