Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling while the Elder Scrolls series belong to Bethesda.
"Normal Speech"
"Thoughts / Mental speech"
"Other Language"
Chapter 38 – Paarthurnax
High Hrothgar, Whiterun Hold, Skyrim
Harry opened the doors into the old monastery, finding no one within the entrance hall. There was no sound of footsteps or anything of the sort, so the young Breton ventured into one of the corridors, entering what seemed to be a small library of sorts. There were two of the Greybeards there, both reading, and one of them had been the one Harry had been seeking.
"Dragonborn, you return to High Hrothgar," said Arngeir upon noticing Harry, rising from the chair he sat upon. "What brings you here?"
"Master Arngeir, do you perhaps know of a Shout used long ago to defeat Alduin?"
That seemed to be the wrong thing to ask.
"Where did you learn of that?" demanded the Greybeard. "Who have you been talking to?"
If there was something Harry could not understand, was the sudden hostility of Arngeir.
"The Akaviri spoke of it on Alduin's Wall."
Arngeir shook his head. "The Blades, of course! They specialize in meddling in matters they barely understand. Their reckless arrogance knows no bounds," he protested. "They have always sought to turn the Dragonborn from the path of wisdom. Have you learned nothing from us? Would you simply be a tool in the hands of the Blades, to be used for their own purposes?"
Okay. For some reason he was missing, it seemed that the Greybeards and the Blades were not exactly in good terms. That wasn't good.
For him, that is.
"What? They've been helping me, nothing more," affirmed Harry. "All we seek is a way to stop the dragons from slaughtering everyone."
Arngeir sighed. "No, of course, not. Forgive me, Dragonborn, for my intemperance. But know that while the Blades claim that they serve the Dragonborn, they do not. They never have."
"I'll be the judge of that," he said. "But do you know it?"
"No. None of us do. It is called Dragonrend, but knowledge of its Words of Power were lost before history began," said the Greybeard. "Perhaps only its creators ever knew of it. We do not regret its loss. This Shout holds no place within the Way of the Voice."
"Why?"
"It was created by those who had lived under the unimaginable cruelty of Alduin's Dragon Cult. Their whole lives were consumed with hatred for dragons, and they poured all their anger and hatred into Dragonrend," affirmed Arngeir. "When learning a Shout, you take it into your very being. In a sense, you become the Shout. By learning and using this Shout, you would be taking this evil into yourself."
He could see why the Greybeards were against the use of this Shout, but from what he saw, it was proving to be a necessary evil.
"So… how exactly am I supposed to defeat Alduin?" he asked.
"Only our leader, Paarthurnax, can answer that question, if he so chooses."
That was a name he had heard before. Oddly enough, the name seemed to be familiar, but in another way. Almost as if… could Paarthurnax be…
"But where is your leader?" he ashed. "Shouldn't he be here in the monastery?"
Arngeir shook his head. "Paarthurnax is not one for closed spaces. He meditates atop the mountain, and speaks to us rarely, and never to outsiders."
"Then how can I speak to him?"
From what he had seen, the area above High Hrothgar was filled with snow storms and mist. It was practically impossible to even fly up there with his broom.
"You were not ready before, and still you are not," declared Arngeir. "But thanks to the Blades, you have questions only Paarthurnax can answer. And only those who Voice is strong can find the path to reach him. For that we will teach you a Shout to open the way to Paarthurnax. Come with me, Dragonborn."
Harry followed Arngeir and the other three Greybeards into the courtyard of the monastery. There, he saw once again the archway which led into a previously unexplored section of the mountain, blocked by a strong wind and mist. It did not take long for the Greybeards to instruct him in the use of a Shout they called "Clear Skies".
"This is your final gift from us, Dragonborn. Use it well," said Arngeir upon instructing Harry. "Clear Skies will blow away the mist, but only for a time. The path ahead is perilous, not to be embarked upon lightly. Keep moving, stay focused on your goal, and you will reach the summit."
Harry nodded. "Thank you, Master Arngeir."
"Sky above, voice within."
As the monks left, Harry walked the steps towards the archway, not even close to it and already feeling the strength of the wind. It was time to clear it away.
"Lok Vah Koor!"
He breathed into the storm, the blast dispersing the mist, snow and wind, and the once obscure path was revealed to the young Dragonborn.
Harry carefully climbed the mountain, finding few living things there. There were a few goats, some ice wraiths and one troll, but the last two were easily dispatched. He wasn't sure of how long it took, but the visage from the high sections of the mountain was amazing. Trully speaking, he could only see a sea of clouds, but it was still amazing.
Eventually, Harry reached what seemed to be the summit, the proper pinnacle being a bit higher, but somewhat unreachable. There was a strange wall nearby, similar to the one he had found back in the depths of Bleak Falls Barrow. Yet despite this, there was no sign of Paarthurnaax.
Of course, the sound of a roar, followed by the sudden appearance of a dragon from behind the pinnacle was enough to place him once more on alert. Right now, he had to see if his hypothesis was correct. He had his hand ready to draw his sword, and took a few steps back as the dragon landed right in front of him.
"Drem Yo Lok. Greeting, wunduniik," it said. "I am Paarthurnax. Who are you? What brings you to my strunmah… my mountain?"
And it seemed he had been correct.
"I am Cyrodiil, Dragonborn," declared Harry. "I seek answers, and your followers, the Greybeards, told me you could answer them. I do admit I was not expecting a dragon… initially, that is."
"I am as our father Aka made me. Just as you, Dovahkiin," said Parthurnax. "And what laan… questions, do you seek?"
"I need to learn a Shout. Dragonrend. Can you teach me?"
"Drem. Patience. There are formalities which must be observed at the first meeting of two of the dov," affirmed the dragon, who then turned to the strange monument. "By long tradition, the elder speaks first. Hear my Thu'um, feel it in your bones! Match it, if you are Dovahkiin!"
It was at that moment, that Paarthurnax opened his maw, breathing fire into the wall.
"Yor Tor Shul!"
The torrent of fire set the wall ablaze, and as the fires subsided, Harry approached the wall, finding that upon it was engraved a word.
"Yol…" he whispered, upon seeing the engraving. "Fire."
Paarthurnax nodded. "A gift, Dovahkiin. Yol. Understand Fire, as the dov do."
From Paarthurnax came a strange fire-like stream, just like when he absorbed the soul of a dragon. And true to the old dragon's word, Harry did begin to understand the meaning of Yol… the meaning of Fire.
Yol Tor Shul. The last two words and their meaning had already been known to him, but unbound and without proper context, they were nigh-useless. But now… now he knew them all.
"Now, show me what you can do," demanded Paarthurnax. "Greet me not as mortal, but as dovah! Do not be afraid. Faasnu. Let me feel the power of your Thu'um."
Harry nodded to the dragon, and took a few steps back before preparing himself.
"Yol Tor Shul!"
As the three words of power were spoken, from his mouth came a torrent of fire, much like the one Paarthurnax had sent towards the monument. Except this one was sent at the dragon himself, who felt first-hand the strength behind the Thu'um directed at him.
"Ah… yes! Sossedov los mul. The dragonblood runs strong in you. It is long since I had the pleasure of speech with one of my own kind," spoke Paarthurnax. "So, you have made your way here, to me. No easy task for a joor… a mortal. Even for one of Dovoah Sos. Dragonblood. What would you ask of me?"
"The Shout… Dragonrend. Do you know of it?" asked Harry.
"Ah. I have expected you. Prodah," said the dragon. "You would not come all this way for tinvaak with an old dovah. No. You seek your weapon against Alduin."
"How did you know I would come here?"
"Alduin komeyt tiid. What else would you seek? Alduin and Dovahkiin return together. But I do not know the Thu'um you seek. Krosis. It cannot be known to me."
That wording was a bit strange.
"You can't… know it? Why?"
"Your kind - joorre - mortals - created it as a weapon against the dov… the dragons. Our hadrimme, our minds cannot even… comprehend its concepts."
A shout exclusive to mortals. To Harry, that was quite a unique concept, but a welcome one.
"So, if you don't know it, how am I supposed to learn it? As far as I know, its creators are dead," he asked.
"Drem. All in good time. First, I have a question for you. Why do you want to learn this Thu'um?"
That one was a bit obvious. "Why else? To stop Alduin."
Paarthurnax nodded. "Yes. Alduin… Zeymah. The elder brother. Gifted, grasping, and troublesome, as is so often the case with first-born. But why? Why must you stop Alduin?"
"I've grown fond of this world… I have no intention to see it end, or for it to be ruled by some sort of… power-hungry god-king," he answered.
"Pruzah. As good a reason as any. There are many who feel as you do, although not all. Some would say that all things must end, so that the next can come to pass," suggested Paarthurnax. "Perhaps this world is simply the Egg of the next kalpa? Lein vokiin? Would you stop the next world from being born?"
Harry shrugged. "Let the next world take care of itself. This one has a few more things to give."
"Paaz. A fair answer. Ro fus… maybe you only balance the forces that work to quicken the end of this world," pondered the dragon. "Even we who ride the currents of Time cannot see past Time's end… Wuldsetiid los tahrodiis. Those who try to hasten the end, may delay it. Those who work to delay the end, may bring it closer."
Harry smiled. "Time will tell."
"But you have indulged my weakness for speech long enough. Krosis. Now I will answer your question. Do you know why I live here, at the peak of the Monahven – what you name Throat of the World?"
Harry shook his head.
"This is the most sacred mountain in Skyrim. Zok revak strunmah. The great mountain of the world. Here the ancient Tongues, the first mortal masters of the voice, Brought Alduin to battle and defeated him," answered Paarthurnax.
"Where they used the Shout, right?"
"Yes. But it was not Dragonrend which help them to defeat Alduin, if such a word can be used," affirmed the elder dragon. "The Nords of those days used the Dragonrend Shout to cripple Alduin. But this was not enough. Ok mulaag unslaad. It was the Kel – the Elder Scroll. They used it to... cast him adrift on the currents of Time."
Oh dear… if Elder Scrolls were to be involved in Alduin's defeat… it wasn't good, considering the current situation.
"And then he emerged here, not long ago."
The dragon nodded. "Tiid krent. Time was… shattered here because of what the ancient Nords did to Alduin. If you brought that Kel, that Elder Scroll back here… to the Tiid-Ahraan, the Time-Wound… With the Elder Scroll that was used to break Time, you may be able to… cast yourself back. To the other end of the break. You could learn Dragonrend from those who created it."
To find an Elder Scroll was rather easy. He simply had to go to the Imperial Library in the White-Gold Tower. The problem was, that the Moth Priests and the Elder Council had completely forbidden access to that section of the library to anyone who was not part of the Order of the Ancestor Moths. Even when he had briefly resided in the tower, he had not been able to enter that part of the library. There had to be another way.
Perhaps the Greybeards and the Blades could instruct him further on this matter.