Chapter 35 - Dragonslayer: Aftermath

As the white light that had engulfed me slowly faded away, and the feeling of falling gave way to something solid underneath me, I slowly picked myself up, before blinking rapidly and shaking my head, and found myself cursing being transported between Sovngarde (or any other realm, really) and Skyrim.

Tsun and the Tongues had approached Mira and I, after Alduin had fell, and although the four seemed amicable enough to Mira ("Eternity is too long to hold a grudge" Hakon had said), Mira didn't seem interested in even giving them the time of day, and merely pointedly ignored them as they politely overlooked her in favor of congratulating me. After a brief spiel of how the Hall of Shor would forever sing of this battle (I decided against asking where they were, throughout the whole battle), Tsun had offered to send me back when I was ready. I'd hesitated briefly, however, wanting to savor my reunion with the only other Dragonborn I'd ever known a bit longer, as well as try to coerce Mira with a bit of mead I'd filched from the Hall of Valor into teaching me more about the Thu'um, and Mira had seemed receptive to the idea, offering to teach me things the Greybeards would never have. Tsun had then dropped a mammoth's dropping, suddenly, warning me after my refusal that the land of the dead was not meant for mortals to linger within for too long.

Mira and I had shared a look at that, and although something told me Mira would've been fine with me giving up my life to enjoy Nordic paradise, I still had obligations and oaths to fulfil back in Skyrim, people to return to, and I could sense her reluctance as I left her side, asking Tsun to send me back then. "Return now to Nirn, with this rich boon from Shor, my lord: a Shout to bring a hero from Sovngarde in your hour of need." Tsun had said, and with a touch I felt knowledge of a new Shout, and it's Words of Power, flow into me, and attach itself to my soul like I'd always known it. The dead aedra then looked at me, and Shouted: "NAHL DAAL VUS!" and I'd found myself flung in a direction I could sense but not name, thrown out of Sovngarde and back to Skyrim.

My vision and head finally cleared with my actions, and my surroundings slowly came into view, allowing me to take in the lovely view of the sun slowly rising above the peaks of the mountains to the east, and I looked around to find myself on a familiar snow-capped (and crater-scarred) mountain, and I sighed in wondrous awe, enjoying the sight. Then I blinked again, as I finally took in the dozens of dragons perched on the rocky outcrop above me, and cursed Tsun as my hand immediately leapt to my swords' hilt.

None of the dragons made any move to attack, though, seemingly content to merely watch me, and I slowly turned my head, trying to see just how many more there were. It wasn't good; for the dozen or two perched on the rocks above, there was easily more than two score dragons flying around, circling the Throat of the World. I looked back at the broken Word Wall, wondering where Paarthurnax was in all of this, and found myself relieved to see him calmly perched on his wall, watching me as well.

It seemed that all the dragons were waiting to see what I'd do, before they'd act, and while I wasn't exactly able to relax between the numbing cold and being surrounded by a small army of dragons, I forced my hands away from the hilts of my sword, and folded them across my chest, before glaring at the dragons, refusing to look in the least bit impressed or cowed by their numbers (and hoping I could pass off my previous actions as caution instead).

Their response was instantaneous, and one Shouted: "Sahrot thur qahnaraan!"

"Alduin mahlann!" The others somberly Shouted as well to the sky, as the first one took off after finishing his words, and the air around us trembled and shook at the Voices of so many dragons being unleashed at once. I didn't exactly understand what they were saying, but it was easy enough to guess that they'd been talking about Alduin's defeat.

"Dovahkiin los ek dovahkriid!" A second one Shouted, before taking off as well, and the skies shook once more as the dragons around us once again Shouted, their deep voices rumbling: "Alduin mahlann!"

"Thu'umii los nahlot!" A third one Shouted this time, and as he took off the ritual continued with another Shout of "Alduin mahlann!"

"Mu los vomir!" A fourth Shouted before taking off, to another Shout of "Alduin mahlann!"

"Thuri, Dovahkiin!" Odahviing Shouted, and this time all the other dragons around him took off, and the skies rumbled as they echoed his Shout: "Thuri, Dovahkiin!"

All the dragons save Odahviing and Paarthurnax were now circling me, and the top of the mountain, as if waiting for something, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Paarthurnax nodding to me, beckoning me closer. Deciding I wanted to know what had just happened, I approached him, but before I could ask anything he said, in a tone surprisingly sad: "So, it is done. Alduin dilon. The Eldest is no more, she who came before all others, and has always been."

"You don't sound very happy about it." I noted, finding myself feeling the same way, and Paarthurnax shook his head, answering: "Happy? No, I am not happy. Briinahi lost ont du'ul Bormahu. Alduin was once the crown of our father Akatosh's creation."

"It was necessary." I said, trying to justify myself to him, and although I knew he understood I found myself feeling tired, drained by everything that had happened. Paarthurnax reassured me: "You did what was necessary. Alduin had flown far from the path of right action in her pahlok - the arrogance of her power. But I cannot celebrate her fall. Zu'u tiiraaz ahst ek mah. She was my sister once. This world will never be the same."

"I told you I'd stop her, and I did." I mused somberly, remembering our first conversation at this place, all those months ago, and Paarthurnax chuckled, and replied: "And so you fulfilled your destiny, which you once said you did not believe in."

"I don't recall actually ever saying that." I frowned, and Paarthurnax shook his head, answering: "It was clear enough. No matter what, it was still followed. Perhaps now you have some insight into the forces that shape the vennesetiid... the currents of Time. Perhaps you begin to see the world as a dovah. But I forget myself. Krosis. So los mid fahdon. Melancholy is an easy trap for a dovah to fall into. You have won a mighty victory. Sahrot krongrah - one that will echo through all the ages of this world for those who have eyes to see. Savor your triumph, Dovahkiin. This is not the last of what you will write upon the currents of Time."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of..." I muttered at his words, and he smiled, before leaping off his Word Wall and into the sky, with more power than I'd seen him last display. As he joined the circling dragons, he declared: "Goraan! I feel younger than I have in many an age. Many of the dovahhe are now scattered across Keizaal. Without Alduin's lordship, they may yet bow to the vahzen... rightness of our Thu'um. But willing or no, they will hear it! Fare thee well, Dovahkiin!"

With that, he flew to the East, in the direction of the rising sun, and as the remaining dragons around him followed I found myself wondering if I'd just made a grave error. Odahviing flew off of his perch and landed next to me, and his next words were of little comfort: "Pruzah wundunne wah Wuth Gein. I wish the old one luck in his... quest. But I doubt many will wish to exchange Alduin's lordship for the tyranny of Paarthurnax's "Way of the Voice". As for myself..."

To my surprise, Odahviing, the proud dragon, lowered his head to me, and continued: "You've proven your mastery twice over. Thuri, Dovahkiin. I gladly acknowledge the power of your Thu'um. Zu'u Odahviing. Call me when you have need, and I will come if I can."

With that he too took off, leaving the Throat of the World finally dragon-free, and now that I finally wasn't being observed the tension left my legs, and I slumped to my knees in the bracingly-freezing snow, alone with my thoughts.

And I did have a lot to think about; as far as I was concerned, my destiny had been fulfilled, my role in the grander scheme of things completed. Paarthurnax's words were worrying; all I wanted, now that I'd completed my task, was to go back to trying to live a nice and quiet life. Which brought me to my next question: what was I supposed to do next? I'd been so busy trying to save the world from Alduin, that I hadn't made any plans or preparations for what to do after that (although, to be fair, I hadn't actually expected to survive, let alone succeed). I sighed, and shook the thoughts from my head, choosing instead to relax and enjoy the scenery, and watch the sun rise on a new day, a new year, a new Skyrim, one free from the shadow of Alduin hanging over it. There'd be time to contemplate the future later, with Lydia, Serana, Mjoll, Jordis, Frea, and even Aela. For now, for once, perhaps it was time to simply indulge in the satisfaction of a job well done, and just live in the present.

That feeling of satisfaction lasted right up until I realized that all the dragons had left, leaving me essentially stranded at the top of the mountain by myself, presumably to simply stroll down the freezing mountain by myself.

-EXCERPT TAKEN FROM "THE TURNING OF THE WHEEL: AN OFFICIAL HISTORY OF THE SECOND DRAGON WAR", WRITTEN BY BLADES LOREMASTER MIRA THE GUIDE IN 5E 10-

The Siege of Skuldafn finally came to an end mere minutes before dawn, the battle lines having miraculously held at Shor's Watchtower thanks to the bravery of the detachment stationed there as well as the specialised anti-undead equipment the Dawnguard had brought with them, as the dragons suddenly all took to the skies as one, ignoring the siege weaponry firing around them (it helped that, an hour or so before, the commanders had the siege weaponry drop their fire from ten per minute to three to conserve the dwindling ammunition). The stunned on-lookers then watched as the dragons then retreated from the battlefield, a loud keening wail marking their departure as they flew towards the Throat of the World. It would only later be known with Marius's departure from Sovngarde, and subsequent descent from the Throat of the World, that the majority of the dragons, under Paarthurnax and Odahviing, had formally surrendered, and pledged their fealty to him, marking the end of open hostilities and the official end of the Second Dragon War.

Before that, however, as the Old Life Festival transitioned into the New Life Festival, and the year of 4E 202 officially began with the 1st of Morning Star, the revelry of the previous day continued completely unabated with the continued free flow of alcohol, and the sun finally rose on the battlegrounds that had originally been between Shor's Watchtower, Shor's Stone, and Fort Greenwall but which had long-since expanded to engulf those three locations, the survivors finally had the time to breathe, and count the cost of the battle.

The field of battle, now fully visible with day break, revealed thousands of corpses; the official count of the battle estimates that, excluding Odahviing, a total of 158 dragons arrived at the battlefield and participated in the conflict, with 97 originally nesting in Skuldafn when the battle began and another 61 stragglers arriving from other directions after the start of the siege. Adding to this, an estimated 7,500 draugr descended from Skuldafn, attacking the northern flanks. Of these numbers, 76 dragons would fall throughout the course of the battle, along with all the draugr that had originally been stationed there.

The Army of the Dragonborn didn't have everything their way, of course, and the casualties they took were also rather significant. As mentioned earlier, the 2,000 reserves of the Eastmarch Imperial Camp were completely wiped out by the draugr's surprise attack, and naturally the detachment at Shor's Watchtower who fought them off took the worst casualties of the whole battle, fighting off the unexpected undead desperately despite being unprepared and mostly ill-equipped; while none of the ballistae or their operators were touched by the enemies, 1 of the 5 battlemages were killed in action, and the 1,500 Stormcloaks and Legionnaires making up the phalanxes suffered ~1,100 casualties, of which ~650 were fatal. Of the 1,000 auxiliaries, ~350 casualties were taken, of which ~100 were fatal.

The main detachment, at Shor's Stone, suffered comparable casualties, having suffered the brunt of the dragon's ire; 17 of the 40 catapults had been lost, along with ~140 of the 330 men operating them. Of the 5,000 Stormcloaks and Legionnaires making up the main bulk of that force, ~1,400 would be injured, and ~800 would be killed by the battle's end. 7 of the 20 battlemages would fall, as well, although the auxiliaries, being mostly rear-positioned healers and archers, wouldn't suffer casualties in such serious numbers; ~700 of the 3,000 auxiliaries were wounded over the course of the battle, ~250 fatally so.

The command post at Fort Greenwall was not without casualties either; it is more than likely the dragons realized, as the battle progressed, that this attack was coordinated, and thus had a leader to coordinate it, and the nearby fort, boasting heavy defenses despite not seeing such heavy fighting, was a potential location for such a leader. If not for this rationale, then it was most likely the high concentration of dangerous siege weapons the fort boasted that attracted attention from the dragons. Whatever the reason, the dragons would begin descending on Fort Greenwall as well, and while they were never in as pressing of a danger of being overrun as the draugr-attacked north, there exist many apocryphal reports of ballistae operators having to fend off intruding dragons with whatever implements were available one-handedly (ranging from nearby spears to mugs and wooden chairs) while operating the ballistae with their other, although most agree that such accounts are surely exaggerated. Ultimately, 29 of the 48 ballistae and ~150 of the siege operators would be lost, as well as ~800 of the 3,500 Stormcloaks and Legionnaires, ~250 fatally so. The Redoran Guard would suffer 23 losses of their number, and the 1,500 auxiliaries would take ~350 wounded and ~100 dead by the end of the battle.

It is now known that the dragons' retreat from Skuldafn was caused by the defeat of Alduin, during the destined duel between her and Dragonborn Marius; as the Firstborn of the Dragons, all were somehow intrinsically linked to her, and they all somehow felt it when she fell in Sovngarde. Knowing their ruler was dead, the dragons chose to submit to the rule of her vanquisher, governed by their primal "might makes right" mentality as they were, and they departed from the battlefield to surrender to Paarthurnax and Dragonborn Marius. All that was known at the time, however, was that, despite the heavy losses, despite how ammunition had dwindled to maybe a fifth of what had originally been supplied, despite the heavy fighting that had characterised the past few hours of battle, it had all suddenly come to a close with the dragon's spontaneous flight from the field. After a tense few moments, where the survivors scarcely dared to believe it was over, a cheer would ring out from the north, shattering the silence, and as it was echoed throughout the battlefield the soldiers began a sort of cautious celebration.

This celebration only escalated as Marius Dragonborn reappeared, a few hours later, bearing the news of their surrender, and the soldiers, aided by mead from Riften funded by the Dragonborn's wealth, descended into a drunken revelry, a revelry that would be repeated throughout the rest of Skyrim as the news spread that the dragons had been defeated, and the World-Eater had finally been laid low; the Old Life Festival of the previous day would end up lasting for another 9 days, before the province finally ran out of alcohol. Meanwhile, Marius Dragonborn met with the leaders of the army, and laid out the terms of the surrender he'd negotiated. To provide a brief summary, for less-aware readers, the dragons were afforded the same protection as the average citizen in Skyrim, which is to say they were not allowed to attack the people of Skyrim except in self-defense, lest they incur the wrath of the Dragonborn. Naturally, though, not all dragons would submit, having schismed during Alduin's disappearance into Sovngarde, and over the next few weeks the Dragonborn and his Army would be involved in hunting down rogue dragons. Meanwhile, Skuldafn was recognized as the territory of the dragons, for all intents and purposes, and in exchange the dragons would provide aid to Skyrim and the Army of the Dragonborn upon request. This deal was met with a fair bit of skepticism, but the dragons only answered to Dragonborn Marius ultimately, and as it had already been made, the matter was dropped in favor of celebrating the official end of the Second Dragon War for the time being, and the reunification of Skyrim.

Things weren't so rosy, outside of Skyrim, however. By this time, news had just reached Emperor Titus Mede II, in Cyrodiil, about the Treaty of High Hrothgar. To put it lightly, Titus Mede was not amused by the news. While it would free up most of his forces in the north, and put an end to the conflict that had been threatening one of his few remaining provinces, the truth was that the Fifth Legion actually had not been as much of a drain on resources as was actually stated. The rest of the Legion had only been defending the border between Skyrim and Cyrodiil, and had in fact not been providing men and materials to the Fifth Legion in Skyrim, thanks to the need for legionnaires at the border of Valenwood and Elsweyr; General Tullius had largely been recruiting legionnaires for the Fifth Legion from the local Nords and providing them arms, armor, and food from the local populace, funded by both the goodwill of the Imperial-aligned Holds and his own personal pockets. What Titus Mede had actually needed, instead, was an overwhelming, crushing victory, the kind which Tullius had almost achieved before Helgen occurred, to show the citizens of the Empire, the other provinces, the Thalmor, and especially the increasingly-discontent members of the Elder Council, that he and his armies were still strong, and would not bow to any further pressure. Thus, when he received word that an armistice had been reached, one that had not been authorized by him personally, that granted the rebellious province more autonomy, and signed into being by his duly-appointed military governor, who was supposed to have crushed the rebellion, Titus Mede was furious.

This news was only compounded when he and the Elder Council discovered the clause stating that, in essence, a new independent army had been created in Skyrim, one that answered not to Cyrodiil, or even General Tullius, but instead an unaffiliated individual, who held no formal allegiance to Cyrodiil and the Empire, and who claimed he was Dragonborn. Such news completely divided the Elder Council, who were torn between wanting to send their legions to squash such a threat (the fact that the Treaty held a clause that it would never be used to attack any Hold in Skyrim was ignored completely), while others wanted to court a potential ally. A few, secretly, may have even wanted to use him to replace the aging Emperor, and thus prop up a new pawn on the throne.

This discontent and treachery had been a long time in the making; while Titus Mede's actions during the Great War had won him support, his handling of the post-war settlements, and particularly the White-Gold Concordat, had destroyed the trust and goodwill of his council. They personally felt he gave too many concessions to their enemies, which the weakened Empire could not afford. The way Hammerfell had then seceded from the Empire, and pursued the war with the Thalmor, and done very well, made them feel vindicated. This only continued as he was pressured by the Thalmor to force the general populace to follow the White-Gold Concordat, and especially when the Stormcloak Rebellion broke out, before culminating in them declaring it divine retribution, when the Dragon Crisis began. The Thalmor had been kicking up a fuss because of the attack on their embassy in Skyrim, and the councillors in the Thalmor's pockets pushed to allow the Thalmor more troops and freedom in the province, so as to crackdown on the Stormcloaks and the perpetrators. Once they received reports of General Tullius suing for peace with the barbarian rebels, as well as a new Dragonborn, however, that was when they really began causing trouble for Titus Mede.

Ten days later, however, the Emperor and his Council would be given a chance to act. The roads between Skyrim and Cyrodiil were now safe, with the end of the Civil War and the Dragon War, and a courier on horseback rode into the Imperial City, bearing news from Skyrim. Titus Mede, his Elder Council, and the general populace (who were only just learning that the Civil War had finally ended), would be shocked as the courier publicly proclaimed that the Dragon Crisis had finally officially ended, and that the reunited province of Skyrim, under the supervision of the Greybeards and the Last Dragonborn, was preparing to convene the Moot by the end of the year. For the first time, travel, trade, and more regular forms of communication were actually realistic and plausible prospects, now that the Civil War and the Dragon Crisis had ended, and the by the end of the month the Emperor would decide to make the trip to Skyrim, officially to attend his cousin's wedding, and unofficially to inspect the province and the new Dragonborn, and crackdown upon it if need be. Radical factions of the Council, meanwhile, rejoiced as the news that the Emperor was leaving the safety of the Imperial City, and certain elements amongst them would reach out to Skyrim's Dark Brotherhood, the last remaining members of the Dark Brotherhood in Cyrodiil (more details about that incident can be found in any book worth it's salt that details the start of the Second Great War).

The citizens of the Empire were overjoyed by the declaration of peace, however. Taxes had been raised to fund the costly Civil War, after all, even if little of it had actually made it's way to Skyrim. Moreover, now that their northern borders were safe, defended by the ferocious barbarian Nords, who were back to being nominally allied with them, many citizens felt relieved, and even, possibly, prepared for the next Great War they all knew was a long time in the making. Their joy was barely diminished by the announcement of the Dragon Crisis; news of the Dragon Crisis was largely unavailable to the general populace of Cyrodiil, who hadn't experienced it first-hand, and available accounts of it were mostly hearsay, promptly dismissed as nonsense. The fact that they were only now learning about it as truth was easily tempered with the added knowledge that it had already ended.

What would have a greater effect on the general populace of Cyrodiil, however, was the news of a Dragonborn emerging for the first time in centuries; in the few cities it was actually believed in, spontaneous parties were thrown. For the most part, however, the people were stunned into disbelief. The reign of the Dragonborn Emperors, after all, had been romanticized as a time of prosperity and peace for the Empire, but that had been over two centuries ago; few actually remembered those days, anymore. Some hoped, perhaps, that his reemergence would bring back those times, but for the most part people were too scared to hope. Conspiracy rumors even abounded that it was a Thalmor plot, designed to weed out Talos-worshippers, traitors, and dissidents. Once confirmed reports came in, though, that dragons had returned , and that they had been successfully fought back, and that a Dragonborn had been instrumental, hope slowly began to return to the cowed populace.

All in all, what can safely be said about the Second Dragon War in conclusion is that it was a calamitous event, one that threatened the world's end by itself, and at the same time heralded many other events that affected Tamriel as a whole. The beginning of the conflict, marked by Alduin's return and subsequent attack on Helgen, would have by itself left a mark on history, but as it turned out it was the precursor to the resurrection of the dragons as a species on Tamriel, kickstarted the overt conspiracy of the Volkihar Clan (which would lead to their secret war with the Dawnguard, and their subsequent defeat), the Solstheim Incident, and, possibly most importantly, the rise of the Last Dragonborn. Indeed, one could even say that the Second Dragon War could be seen as a chronicle of Dragonborn Marius' rise to fame, such was his importance and role in the war.

If there is one thing more extraordinary than it's start, however, the events started by the war's end could be said to compare; few other conflicts can tie so directly to the Second Great War, save perhaps for the First, as well as the end of the Fourth Era and the start of the Fifth. The series of events ensued after the end of the war are beyond the scope of this historical account, however, and as such readers of this chronicle must be left satisfied with the knowledge of how the costly Second Dragon War occurred, and how it ended.

-? ? ?, ? ? ?-

Being dragged away, forced away from where she'd wanted to be. She remembered being sucked up, taken away by the Three.

Voices, shouting. She remembered the rebukes and reprimands she'd received, by the Three. She remembered enduring their complaints for a very long time.

Falling, she remembered falling. She remembered falling for a long time.

Briefly, she felt like she was forgetting something, something important. Fragments of it flitted through her mind, and she blinked rapidly, her vision finally clearing itself of the bright whiteness that had engulfed it.

"Wake up, we're here. Why are you shaking? Are you ok? Wake up." A Dunmer stood over here, trying to wake her, and she tried to sit up before falling back down, disoriented. The unknown Dunmer offered a hand to her, and she took it, before being pulled up unto her two legs as he instructed: "Stand up. There you go. You were dreaming. What's your name?

Something about just being instructed by a random nobody rubbed her the wrong way, but she tried to keep it in check, and instead decided to answer his question. As she tried to recall her name, however, more and more fragments of something unknown came back to her, of an unknown joy in battle and domination, of the bane of kings, of a great hunger unfulfilled. She felt off, wrong, like she couldn't remember how to move properly, like her body was unfamiliar to her. Ignoring the outside, she tried to focus on these fleeting fragments, and finally fragments on an old name returned to her, one that she could not openly announce, along with a message from the three.

Hesitantly, as if unused to speaking, she answered: "Al... Dezaldaal."

"Well, Dezaldaal, not even last night's storm could wake you." The unknown Dunmer said with a chuckle, before looking up, and continuing: "I've heard them say we've reached Raven Rock, I'm sure they'll let us go."

Nodding as a form of acknowledgement, she supposed she had no reason to be surprised as to the events about to unfold. Through her connection to the timestream, she found it was much, much earlier than the eons she'd endured, but then again the currents of time had landed her here under Father Akatosh's instruction. Instead, she recalled what she'd been advised to do, as the fragment flitted back into her mind: "In the waning years of the Fourth Era of Tamriel, a prisoner born on an uncertain day to certain parents will be sent to Raven Rock, with explanation of the role she was to play in that Empire's history..."

Author's Note: And praise be! This should be the last of these excerpt sections; writing one of these every week for the past month or so has been exhausting and draining, and the pay-off's ultimately only been minor world-building at best. I'd still do it if I saw fit, of course; there isn't a calculation for efficiency or anything. But the Second Dragon War's ended, and with it the need for these alternative POV chapters has as well.

Unfortunately, as you can probably infer by the tone of the previous paragraph, this chapter isn't the end of the story. There's still other stories to tell, and the harem I actually promised to be built. The main questline's over, but there are so many other plot threads I haven't resolved, and at the very least I'll provide some slice-of-life stories for the Dragonborn; the action will definitely be lacking, though, what with Marius now being hilariously overpowered.

I don't think much needs to be said about who the last segment was obviously teasing, but fun fact: it was based on the Morrowind opening sequence. Also Dezaldaal in Dovahzul roughly translates to "Fate Destroy Return". Interpret it however you will. And now, this isn't damage control; this is something that has been planned for a long, long time.

Translations:

Alduin mahlann! - Alduin is fallen!

Sahrot thur qahnaraan! - The mighty overlord is vanquished!

Dovahkiin los ek dovahkriid! - The Dragonborn is her dragonslayer!

Thu'umii los nahlot! - Her Voice is silenced!

Mu los vomir! - We are free of fealty!

Thuri, Dovahkiin! - (You are) our overlord, Dragonborn!

Alduin dilon. - Alduin is dead.

So los mid fahdon. - Sorrow is (a) loyal friend.

Goraan! - Rout!

Dovahhe - Dragons (Plural form of Dovah; Dovah being the singular form for individual dragons, and Dov being the word for Dragonkind)

Pruzah wundunne wah Wuth Gein. - Good travels to the Old One.

Zu'u Odahviing - I am Odahviing