Guide:
Dwemeris
Thoughts
"Speech"
"Dovahzul"
Warnings/Disclaimer: see chapter 4
Chapter Warning(s): Dialogue heavy. I mean it. Paarthurnax and Fjaldi are BOTH chatty bastards and you know what chatty bastards do? Talk.
A/N: So. I lost my entire save file for "Fjaldi". It's just been… wiped clean. So I had to use the wiki pages for this chapter, since I'm all the way back to level 1.
Last time… "I will grant you the understanding of Clear Skies. This is our final gift to you, Dragonborn. After this, only Paarthurnax, if he wishes, may teach you more. Use this gift well."
Chapter 49 – Faasnu (Fearless)
The Greybeards don't waste much time getting back to their cosy little home soon after teaching me Clear Skies – effectively telling me to go climb the damn mountain by myself.
Perhaps they're too old to make the climb?
Without hesitation, I round on Ondolemar and Lydia. "Right. You two are coming with me. I've seen to many bodies on the side of mountain roads to go up alone with those gales."
"As you wish, my Thane." Lydia agrees begrudgingly, eyeing the gates leading further up with distaste.
"You must be joking. I am not climbing even further up. Altmer are not designed for this… barbarous climate." Ondolemar is, naturally, far more vocal about his disdain for mountain climbing.
"You're in charge of frying any enemies we may encounter on our way up. I don't trust just anyone to watch my back, you know?"
For some reason, that's enough for the ex-Thalmor to purse his lips and walk along with Lydia and I. I'm mainly glad that I don't have to walk alone.
After all, it's much more pleasant to suffer together than to suffer from the cold all by my lonesome – even if Lydia is hardly affected by the gales of freezing wind at all.
As we climb, I take to observing my surroundings – I've never been this high up, and admittedly the thin air is foreign and interesting. Would it become thinner the higher one went, I wonder?
The rickety, old, creaking wooden bridges over cliffs steeper than… Well, nothing, really, terrify me. The same goes for the sharp, rocky edges below promising a brutal, swift death should any of us fall, though luckily the 'path', if the Ice Wraith-infested rocks and flat icy surfaces can be called such, are broad enough to walk along single file.
"…I have developed a sudden dislike for bridges matching my dislike for staircases in intensity."
"Fjaldi, the things you dislike could fill up several books. Now shout away that wall of ice winds."
"Maybe I should write a book."
"What would you write books about, my Thane? Your adventures? Your heritage?"
"Maybe I can combine them somehow?" I muse. It might even turn out profitable.
"Perchance you may describe the Dwemer ruins dotting Skyrim. You may prove surprising insights, being knowledgeable on Dwemer as few others are."
"Like… Dwemer constructs in Skyrim? I could even throw in some bibliographical information – Hah, Calcelmo would flip his shit if he knew I was even contemplating this."
"You can send him copies to proofread, then." Ondolemar mutters.
"Winterhold College may also wish to buy and distribute anything you write, my Thane. As would the Bard's College." Lydia adds smoothly.
"We'll – LYDIA GET DOWN FROM THAT LEDGE YOU'RE GOING TO FALL OFF!" I yell at her when I spot just where she's standing: on the very top of an ice-covered rocky outcropping, as if she were a gods-damned mountain goat.
She's going to slip off a cliff one of these days, mark my words.
As we need my new Shout multiple times, I walk at the front, with Lydia at my back to straighten me up whenever the slippery surfaces prove too much for my travel-worn boots, her Nord heritage shining through quite prominently as she proves resilient and moves without much trouble.
Ondolemar takes up the rear, carefully measuring every step he takes and ruthlessly frying any Ice Wraith that dares come near to us. He seems to have a little problem with the thin air, as I can hear his heavy breaths even over the wind. To be honest, I'm quite lightheaded myself.
I feel a stab of jealousy at seeing Lydia's unfazed expression.
Gods-damned mountain goat indeed. But I suppose it'd be too rude to speculate if her ancestors inherited any traits from those animals.
…What am I thinking? She'd push me off the mountain without regrets.
The top of the Throat of the World is cold, but somehow I can breathe more easily here. Ondolemar sinks against a rock, panting slightly and glaring ferociously at me while Lydia stands to the side stoically, observing quietly as I sheathe my axes and step forwards onto the open area.
Scanning the ground, I see nothing but whiteness – snow and ice-slicked rock that's too dangerous to tread on. There is a Word Wall, old and worn and cracked in some places along the top edge, but unlike all the other ones I've encountered so far - and I've encountered quite a lot of them by now - it doesn't call out to me. Not in the slightest.
There is no hut, no cabin, and no house. No stone or wooden construction or even a cave where any humanoid creature could reside, no matter what race they were from. The suspicion that has been niggling at the back of my mind since Arngeir first mentioned the name of the Greybeard's leader starts nagging even harder.
Paarthurnax is not a human name. Nor an elvish one. It's a dragon name. In Dovahzul. And as there are no signs of mortal activity here…
A cry echoes around me, and for the first time since my arrival, my eyes turn to the stark blue sky – a single, familiar silhouette drawn against it with unfurled wings.
Ah. I feel a smidge of smug satisfaction at my suspicions being proven right.
Unless, of course, it's horribly wrong and I'm going to get myself killed in an embarrassing manner within the next few minutes.
Somehow, it doesn't feel like I'll die just yet.
That must be them. The leader of the Greybeards. Paarthurnax.
Lydia is up in arms the second the dragon's cry reaches her ears and I tense, preparing to stop her, but before she can do something stupid, like attack the old dovah, Ondolemar shoots a paralysis spell in her direction, eyeing me inquisitively.
"You do not fear this dragon." The Altmer states, but the question in the words is unmistakable.
"I believe this may be who we are looking for." I answer slowly, still not a hundred percent certain but willing to take my chances as the dragon lands and does not make any moves to attack us.
Stepping forwards, I move away from my companions, sure that Ondolemar will keep Lydia in line if she attempts to attack Paarthurnax again. It's also a gesture of goodwill, so to speak – as a show of trust, that I do not need armed backup to speak to the most likely ancient dovah… Though I certainly needed the aid of my companions in climbing up here, as the path is treacherous. Now that it is no longer strange, however, next time I might attempt it on my own.
Only when I approach do I notice that he is indeed far different from other dragons I've seen. His scales are dull and grey, covered in brown specks as if to show his true age. The dragon's wings are the largest I have ever encountered, and they are ruffled, torn and worn near the edges, like a tattered travelling cloak, affected by time.
Dried blood stains the snout, but I pay it no heed – I have often been in a similarly dirty state.
The dragon, Paarthurnax, I'm sure he is Paarthurnax, sniffs me before backing up a bit, talk sweeping behind him like a curious cat, snow being scattered under the force of it, spraying the area in the never-melting white dust. His breath reeks of death when he opens his maw, and is scorching hot on my cold skin.
"Drem Yol Lok. Greetings, wunduniik. I am Paarthurnax." My frozen fingers dart to my axe nervously, but I stand my ground readily, steeling my nerves as much as I can facing a… a friendly dragon.
Or, at the very least, a non-hostile one, which aside from that first time I tested Marcurio's strength has never happened before.
"Who are you, Tumgol? What brings you to my strunmah…My Mountain, when your Kiin who dwelled beneath the stone are no more in Mundus?"
A chill runs through my body, down to my very bones, and it has nothing to do with the cold for once. Parts of me are warring with one another – on one side, I may have just found the perfect Dovahzul teacher, someone I can trust to an extent, and aye, a dragon leading the peaceful Greybeards is super awesome.
On the other hand, though, this is a dragon. Known for their natural cruelty and will to dominate, can I trust him? And added to that… He knows. He knows what I am from a glance.
I clear my throat sharply. "I dare say, Paarthurnax, that my identity is no secret to you."
The dragon almost seems to snort, the tip of his snout almost touching my chest, his oddly coloured eyes boring into mine though they are covered by a film, a film that indicates he probably does not see much of me at all anymore.
"Geh. Vahzah. You speak true, Dovahkiin. Forgive me. It has been centuries since I held tinvaak with a stranger, and longer yet since I laid eyes on one of the Tumgol. I gave in to the temptation to prolong our speech. Your Joorre Kiin was always so interesting, with their strange ideas."
My lips twitch into a smile at the thought of my people, the ache of their absence having been soothed lately by the presence of people like Ondolemar and Marcurio who kept me on my feet.
"Why choose to live in isolation here when you love conversation? Do the Greybeards not visit?"
Paarthurnax grumbles, tilting his giant head in the general direction of High Hrothgar, digging one of his claws into the ground forcibly. "They see me as master. Wuth. Onik. Old and wise. It is true I am old." The feeble humility has me raise an eyebrow in surprise – as far as I know, dragons are prideful creatures. Wonder what happened to him.
"It is no temptation to hold tinvaak with those who revere every word heedlessly. Dreh Ni Nahkip. It is better not to feed certain hungers. It is of no concern now." His head turns back to me, and aye, his eyes are definitely not working properly anymore. "Tell me. Why do you come here, Volaan? Why do you intrude on my meditation?"
I ignore my companions fully now, whereas I'd first kept an eye out for them, to fully focus on the dovah. I almost feel bad for my reasons now. But when I speak, I keep my voice strong, as I feel it is something Paarthurnax may appreciate.
"I am here because I wish to learn. To learn of Dovahzul… And to learn the Dragonrend Shout, if at all possible. I am here because I need a teacher. If you have… held tinvaak with my kin before, you should know how we value such."
Perhaps it is not wise to mention the last, but the words have passed my lips, and I cannot take them back. It is only the truth of the matter. I've been floundering for over a year, trying to keep my head above water in matter I barely, if at all, manage to grasp adequately.
I learn the words I find on Word Walls at random, not knowing how to read a single other part of the scriptures I see. I hope I find a Wall whenever I enter a dungeon, hope that I will learn it in time to defeat Alduin, about whom I only know the worst – No matter how well I have assimilated to the local culture, my dealings with destiny have not born much fruit.
My Dwemer mind, and perhaps even my heart, longs for a mentor I can rely on, as has been ingrained into the culture of my people for as far back as our lineage goes. Like my uncle was… Before.
It has been nearly a year. Surely I wouldn't be betraying him by choosing a new Mentor? Not when my need for one is this high, when I am pressed for time as it is.
The Greybeards themselves have made it clear that they won't teach me any longer, not until I cut ties with the Blades, whom I might still have use for later.
And besides, Arngeir told me straight out that they had not much to teach me in the first place.
Aye. I would learn from this dovah, if he allows me.
The dragon pauses for a long moment, the silence in between us stretching to the point that I want to start fidgeting uncomfortably under his heavy presence. Then Paarthurnax turns and starts walking towards the Word Wall, his talons digging deeply into the ice, and his tail sweeping, almost hitting me before I manage to stumble aside.
"Drem. Patience." He speaks, and I nearly wilt in relief that it wasn't a dismissal, a refusal to teach me at all. "There are formalities which must be observed, at the first meeting of two of the Dov." I draw in a sharp breath at the acknowledgement that I am a dragon to him - even if only in soul, before slowly following him, watching, waiting, for my 'elder' to make the first move.
"By long tradition, the elder speaks first." Aye, I'd figured that much.
"Hear my Thu'um! Feel it in your bones. Match it, if you are Dovahkiin!"
Oh fuck, now what?
Then Paarthurnax starts breathing fire at the Wall. I startle so violently I almost jump six feet into the air at the power that resonates off of him, the heat blistering after being entrenched in the freezing cold for so long even at a fair distance.
It's… terrifying.
"YOL…TOOR…SHUL!" So, that is the full Fire Breath Shout, then. I only knew the first Word – but it seems that Paarthurnax has somehow… branded the second Word into the stone of the Wall. "I have spoken. The Rotmulaag awaits."
I let out an uneasy snicker at having to turn my back to the dragon in order to absorb the Word, but I step up to it without further hesitation regardless of my unease, as I think Paarthurnax might grow impatient with me if I stay still too long.
Once the odd feeling of knowing as well as the heady dizziness have passed, I turn around to face the elder dragon once more, only to see him much closer than earlier, nearly giving the feeling of caging me in, trapping me between himself and the wall. I swallow thickly, trying to supress the sudden rush of terror to manageable levels, when Paarthurnax speaks again:
"A gift, Dovahkiin. Toor. Understand Fire as the Dov do."
It takes all I have to remain standing after he grants me his knowledge of Fire Breath, since getting knowledge straight from a dragon is different from having, say, Arngeir give me his.
It's much like the difference between drinking a tankard of mead and consuming three whole bottles of pure alcohol, if I have to make a Marcurio-approved comparison.
Gasping for breath as discreetly as possible, I hear Paarthurnax urge me on, and I am so, so happy that I won't have to walk back down this mountain without support later. I don't think my legs will support me then with all this adrenaline coursing through me right now.
"Do not fear. Faasnu. Let me feel the power of your Thu'um. Greet me not as Tumgol, but as Dovah!"
He'd better not take offense to me doing this and attack after all, that'd be a drag.
I inhale, briefly closing my eyes, feeling the Words as they claw their way up my parched throat, they're dry, hot, they burn and taste like ash as they rush over my tongue and past my lips and they give me a sense of power beyond mortal bounds when their effect becomes visible, slamming into the older dragon, as he'd asked.
"YOL…TOOR!"
I swallow several times afterwards, resisting the urge to bring my hand to my mouth in an effort to prevent myself from coughing my lungs out as I pay immediately for using the Thu'um in my ill-suited mortal body after being ran ragged by travel for so long.
Maybe a break will be a good idea. I've been feeling a bit under the weather lately.
Paarthurnax doesn't seem to notice, his fangs bared as if grinning when he turns to me, the black stain on his scales ignored in favour of more conversation.
"Ah, excellent. Sossedov los mul. The Dragonblood runs strong in you. It had been long since I had the pleasure to speak with Kiin."
He takes to the sky, settling himself comfortably on the Word Wall, where he stares down at me imperiously and not a little bit eager.
I should definitely come visit more often. Paarthurnax… He seems like a genuinely pleasant Dovah. The first I've encountered.
"And so, you have found your way here, to me. No easy task for a Joor. Or their companions. But... Prodah. I have expected you. You would not travel all this way for tinvaak with an old Dovah. No. You seek Zun, your weapon against Alduin."
I would ask how he knew, but I feel he knows of the prophecy, and thus asking him would be redundant. Aye, I came for Dragonrend. But I did not know an 'old Dovah' awaited me here. To be fair, that is a fact far more interesting than a Shout, if I had any say as to what I wanted to prioritize or do.
Alas, I have a task to fulfil, and therefore talking and learning from him will have to happen another time.
"Aye. Dragonrend was why I came originally. I think I have found something better, though you have yet to answer the question I posed you."
Paarthurnax huffs, tilting his head. By this time, Ondolemar and Lydia have taken shelter near the rocks, watching me interact with a dragon almost casually. I don't turn away from my conversational partner, however. That would be plain rude.
"Zu'u ni Koraav, Dovahkiin. I do not see. I know you seek guidance, but I do not know all. Mindok. I know that Alduin and Dovahkiin return together: Alduin komeyt tiid. But I do not know the Thu'um you seek. Krosis. It cannot be known to me." He explains, almost gently.
"However, I would be glad to provide Aak, guidance, if you wish to indulge me in tinvaak upon our next meeting."
I nod solemnly, even though I'm already excited just thinking about all the things I could learn from a millennia-old dragon. "You know much, of this I am certain. How is it Dragonrend is not known to you?"
Paarthurnax seems almost abashed. "Your kind – Joorre – mortals – created it as a weapon against the Dov. Our hadrimme, our minds cannot… comprehend its concepts."
I suppose it would be useless if the dragons learned what was being used against them. Or perhaps the concept of being, whatever effect the Shout has, doesn't compute with them because it is alien to them? Something like… Being immortal would be to a human?
"Then how may I learn?"
The elder dragon shifts on top of the wall, turning towards where Lydia and Ondolemar are sitting close to one another before moving back to me. The two are doing quite a botched-up of pretending not to be listening in.
"Drem. All in good time. First, I have a question, Dovahkiin. You say you wish to learn, but I sense you are not yourself convinced you must. Why is it then, you want this Thu'um?"
I find myself having to take a few steps back, pursing my lips as I have to seriously consider his inquiry.
Why do I want to learn Dragonrend?
The first, most obvious answer would be that I was told it was the only way to stop Alduin, or make his defeat at all a possible thing. If I am to defeat him, it is therefore of key importance to know. But… But why must I defeat him?
Why do I fight? I tried asking that question to myself back in Sky Haven Temple, but… No answer came.
If I didn't need to defeat Alduin, I wouldn't want to have anything to do with this Shout.
I have to defeat Alduin because I am Dovahkiin, and it is written in prophecy that I am to defeat him. But prophecy is just that – it does not set the future in stone, or there would be no future, only causally determined actions, making the freedom of Men and Mer an illusion. So then, not the prophecy in itself is what drives me to learn.
…According to the prophecy, if nothing is done Alduin will destroy Nirn and all those who live in it. Amongst those are my friends and others I have grown fond of. Not to mention the thousands of people I have never met, or the children that do not deserve to live in a destroyed world, or fall prey to a monster like Alduin.
And yet, it's not just for them. I have grown… Selfish. I have been given a chance at a life, one in which my people are gone, but then, is it not a blessing that I am still here at all? I would have disappeared alongside them, and yet by some miracle…
I want to make use of this opportunity fate has given me, even if it comes with destiny and responsibility and problems and pains. Spend time with friends; Ondolemar, Onmund, Adrienne… Marcurio.
…I want to live my life as I please, free. And I can only do that by shedding the shackles that bind my path to Alduin's.
"And so your upbringing as Tumgol shows in your reflection." Paarthurnax grins at me, and mere moments ago the sight would have been unsettling. Instead, I grin back broadly.
"I want to live free. I want to live free of the shackles that bind my destiny to Alduin. I want to look at the world and not fear its end." I gesture around me, at the edges of the platform and beyond, to the picturesque, sprawling lands of Skyrim, with all its mountains and creeks and rivers and forests.
"Hmm… True Freedom. Staadnau. Perhaps that which all Dov once searched to attain. Pruzah. A good reason. There are many, including myself, who would agree. Other claim that all must end, to start the cycle anew, Lein Vokiin."
I start shaking my head halfway through his sentence, and when he falls silent in askance, I meet his whitened eyes.
"Even if it were, I am a selfish thing that wants what he wants, which is a life in this world we live in. Who are we to judge the destiny of Nirn? We are but singular entities, capable of much, yes, but individuals nonetheless. Not one should be able to set the fate of all in stone, not even the end of the world."
Paarthurnax rumbles, a deep sound that reverberate through the air almost like a physical force, and it takes me a while to realise he is laughing, or well, chuckling.
"You have much to learn, Dovahkiin, but let it be known you understand that which you know. As you are, you may already grasp a true battle between Dovah. Tinvaak Los Grah. There is no distinction between debate and combat to a Dov, and to this battle I concede. Who may say, indeed! Dez Motmahus, even to us Dov, destiny is elusive."
He shakes himself visibly, straightening out and unfurling his wings. "Remember, Goraan Dovah, Alduin has good reason to believe he will prevail. Rok mul. He is no fool. Ni mey, rinik guy nol. Far from it. Mind it, when you meet."
So not only is Alduin more powerful than I am and he can bring dragons back from the grave and eat mortal souls, but he's also wickedly intelligent. Wonderful.
Paarthurnax sighs, almost forlornly, before coming closer to me again, balancing precariously on the edge of the Wall. "But we have indulged in Tinvaak long enough. Krosis. We may continue another day. Now I will answer your question. Do you know why I live here, at the peak of the Monahven?"
I blink in surprise at the seemingly unrelated question. "I… Have never given it much thought." I wonder if this is some sort of special location to dragons. Or maybe he just likes mountains. Maybe it's easier to stand on the lookout for Alduin here.
The answer, when it comes, is not exactly what I had been anticipating.
"This is the most sacred mountain in Skyrim. Zok revak strunmah. Here the ancient Tongues, the first mortal masters of the voice, fought Alduin and defeated him."
I look around me with new eyes, and as I stare, I spot Lydia doing much the same. Ah, I am glad they can handle the cold. It would be bad if one of them froze to death because I was having a conversation.
Still… On this very spot, Alduin was… It's almost impossible to believe, really. But I still feel the need to clarify.
"And to succeed, they used the Dragonrend Shout."
The dragon gives me a long, hard stare, unsettling in its intensity. He stays quiet for a long time before crawling down from his perch, standing right in front of me once more. "Yes and no. Viik nuz ni kroon."
"You are Tumgol. You already know that which you need, but you do not know that you do. The Shout merely crippled Alduin, the Nords incapable of defeating him truly. They cast him adrift on the currents of Time. They used the Kel – the Elder Scroll. Meyye. I knew Alduin would not be adrift forever. Tiid Bo Amativ. Time flows ever onward. And thus, I have waited. And I will keep waiting, for this is where he will emerge."
My insides feel as if they have been doused in ice.
Kel.
Elder Scroll.
And I? I happen to know exactly where to get it.
Fal Zhardum Din.
I know exactly where the Elder Scroll is located, as none have set foot there after my people.
However, I have no knowledge of how to get into Fal Zhardum Din. There are three keys, lost to time, and where I can find one I can't tell. There are obviously none in Nchuand-Zel.
I don't believe I have ever been this frustrated in my entire lifetime.
Fuck.
"I see." I say flatly, mind whirring furiously. "How would the Elder Scroll help me? Is it truly necessary to retrieve it?"
Paarthurnax grumbles again, this time with a warm puff of air in my face. "If you know where to find it, it must be out of reach now for you to ask such question. But very well, I shall indulge you, Goraan. Tiid Krent. Time has shattered here due to the actions of the Ancient Nords. If you brought the Kel here… to the Tiid-Ahraan, the Time-Wound… You may cast yourself back. To the other end of the break. Learn Dragonrend from its very creators… Wuth fadonne… My friends. You and your companions… remind me of them. Gormlaith, fierce yet hasty. Felldir, experienced yet uncertain of himself. Hakon, of sharp axe and wit, yet fearing to lead his fellows."
At loss for words, I merely mutter another 'I see'. I'm troubled, where do I even start? Who do I ask? Where might I turn? I need a key, but the keys won't ever still be in the Dwemer cities they originated from.
Also, we remind him of his old friends?
Why would he – ah, Lydia was a little impulsive when her first instincts were to attack Paarthurnax. And Ondolemar has surely seen many things – though I don't know what he would have to be uncertain about, he is a good Mer and friend.
And I… Aye. Maybe I'm scared. Just a little bit. Who would I have to lead anyway?
"Trust your instincts, Goraan." Paarthurnax offers almost gently, "Your blood will guide your path." He pauses, looking up at the darkening sky as if searching for something.
"Vulthuryol. Dark Fire King. Seek him. He will aid you, as I have. Perhaps more. Krosis, I cannot say. He resides in the Deep. Found by Tumgol, your joorre Kiin."
Vulthuryol…
Fal Zhardum Din…
A place to find as much information as I can find. A place where knowledge is gathered so that I might find more information on how to gain entry. My thoughts come to a stop, a feeling as if a storm has been lifted from the sky in my mind, leaving only stark, empty but oh-so-clear blue skies.
"Winterhold College." I state with conviction, breathing almost as if in disbelief, turning my large eyes to Paarthurnax. The Dovah grins once again, craning his neck north before chuckling as I remain frozen in place.
He nudges me gently with his snout, ushering me towards my companions like a mother cat ushers her kittens towards unfamiliar things.
"Why do you linger, Ysmir? You know your path, all you must do is follow it."
A small blossom of hopes rises in my chest.
I grin.
A/N: Who caught the Pocahontas reference? I'd love to hear from you all! Also, HOLY SHIT, this story has been updating for almost ONE YEAR! I think I will do a special upload on the anniversary, maybe. Any requests?
