Guide:
Dwemeris
Thoughts
"Speech"
"Dovahzul"
Warnings/Disclaimer: see chapter 4
Chapter Warning(s): Dragon language, flashbacks.
A/N: Not entirely happy with this chapter, but it's the best I've got.
Last time…Marcurio might be dead. There's no Elder Scroll and, really, what can Vulthuryol do? Alduin is going to be impossible to beat at the pace I'm forced to take getting to him… I should… I should just give up.
Chapter 57 – Bo Ko Kun
Shifting until I am seated on the floor again, cross-legged this time, I think back to the one time I had a conversation with someone about anything like this.
The concept of 'giving up'.
It had been Onmund, actually, with all that he's grown in the position of Archmage… he was still a kid when we had just set out to the ruins of Labyrinthian. The memories of the road there bring up a pleasant sort of melancholy. Things were still so beautifully uncomplicated, then.
Do not get me wrong, I enjoy a challenge, like any other of my kin, but the current situation is not one I would have dared think up even in my worst nightmares. It's… Fucked up, beyond all repair. Not a challenge to overcome as much as an uphill struggle against a roaring avalanche.
If there's any 'going uphill' at this point at all anymore.
But. The road to Labyrinthian. We'd been shrouded in darkness, only a campfire casting dancing shadows onto the surroundings and the moons obscured by clouds as we all huddled close in the cold.
Onmund and I had been on watch…
"Fjaldi?" I glance up from where I'm huddled as close to the fire as I can get without burning my fingers, the pleasant heat barely capable of chasing away the icy cold Skyrim night.
"What is it?" The question comes out a little gruffer than intended, since I'm running on too little sleep and am quite cranky because of it. I make sure to add on a pleasant smile so as not to spook the boy – because that's what he is, compared to me, even though our ages are similar.
He shifts closer to me, voice hushed and careful as if scared Marcurio will overhear and taunt him for it, even though the mage is sleeping deeply several feet away, exhausted from the day's travels.
"How do you do it?" A lazy blink as I shift as well, getting more comfortable.
"Do what?"
"You know…" He trails off, fumbling with his hands and mouth moving without words, eyes wide in askance as if his question was perfectly clear. Too bad for him that I had no idea what he meant – it could have been any odd ability.
"You don't give up. I saw you, in Mzulft, and you definitely shouldn't have been walking at all after what those, those Falmer did to you. But you never hesitated. And at the College, when you were so tired and hurt, you still fought. And then with… Whatever happened in that tower that made Erandur come along with us. You… You never gave up. I would have wanted to sleep for weeks, like J'zargo, if I had taken half the hits you did. You weren't scared at all! You just… Kept going."
It sounds awed, borderline hero-worshipping, and I'm determined to put a stop to it before the blonde gets any silly notions in his head about me. Or, Void forbid, that he places me on some pedestal.
"Trust me when I say that I wanted to go to bed the moment we stepped out of Mzulft. I wanted to run at the sight of those magical anomalies. I wanted to go on holiday for a year when I faced down a Daedra in Nightcaller temple. I was terrified. I still am. I don't know what we'll have to deal with next." I reply dryly, poking the flames to keep them going as Onmund turns the words over in his head.
"But you didn't want to give up?"
At the question, the branch in my hand twitches, sending embers onto the stones around it and making the inexperienced mage twitch back as if he cannot command ice at his leisure.
"Of course the thought crossed my mind. I am not infallible or some fairy-tale hero. I fear and flee as much as any of you, Dwemer or not. I just… Was taught differently, I suppose. My people endure like the stone we shape. It's almost a creed."
Again, the Nord thinks about it. Not because he doesn't understand it – oh no, I am quite sure that he is rather intelligent for his age and race, but because he wants to ponder, philosophise, find out how this information aligns with what he knows.
"I thought about giving up too. Many times. Before we even entered Mzulft, I -" he swallows thickly, "I wanted to run away and not look back. I only stayed because J'zargo would have been insufferable about it and, well, Marcurio and you seemed reliable."
A disbelieving, self-depreciating smirk pulls at my lips before I can help myself.
"Reliable?"
"Well, yeah. You never even seemed to think about giving up on anything, always steadfast like a stone… How do you do that when you're scared?"
I grunt softly, leaning back to look at the stars, happy for the lack of rain or snow tonight. "My mother."
"Your… mother?" He asks hesitantly after no more words are forthcoming. I snicker at his eyes, so full of interest at the suspense.
"Aye. My mother. She taught me everything I needed to know. Dwemer… well, we're accustomed to situations that inspire fear. We've fought many wars, and not won all of them, not by a long shot. We still pushed on, unyielding as mountains. It's… pretty much what defined us, on a more base level than our technological and mental advancements. Dwemer endured. We always did. It's how we survived. It's how we were."
I pause as I think on how best to phrase the next part.
"Though even mountains crumble in the face of time and circumstance. My ma… I have done many things she wouldn't be proud of." I admit, a little sourly, ignoring the sharp intake of breath besides me because acting outside of parental approval in Skyrim is apparently a moral offense.
"So whenever I want to give up, I think of her. I mean… At least then, there would be one thing, just one, that she'd smile at me for. That would make her proud of me. I find that it helps."
Onmund is silent for a long time. "That thinking of the people you love helps you to endure?"
"…If that is how you wish to interpret it."
Blue eyes glance in the direction of Winterhold as I lazily scan the edges of the small camp for threats.
"…I understand."
Until dawn, the only sound to break the comfortable silence is Erandur 's sawmill-like snoring.
I blink again as the world around me comes back into focus, and I clench my fists to get the stiffness out. I am still alone, and I am still… grieving, for the lack of a better word, but at least now I have a reminder of why I can't just give up on everything.
'My mother would be sorely disappointed' is the reason it was back then.
'My loved ones would be sorely disappointed' is as good a reason as any to stop myself from moping and push through until I can find a more suitable time and place to collapse back into that grey fog that is only now, barely, lifting from my mind.
With a small sigh, I rise to my feet, a bit unsteady but at least no longer seconds away from quitting. I have to find that blasted dragon and get him to help me. Marcurio or no Marcurio.
I… I can at least make up for losing him by saving others… I think.
Once outside, it isn't long before I find Vulthuryol in all his black-scaled splendour.
Or, rather, Vulthuryol finds me, landing with a powerful beat of his spider-veined wings at the end of the bridge I have to cross to walk further into Blackreach.
"I told you to find me, Goraan Dovahkiin."
I open my mouth hesitantly, only to snap it shut at the dragon's low growl. I was ill-equipped to deal with a fight right now, especially if it came from the only link to the missing Elder Scroll I had left at all.
"I'm… sorry."
"Rot like those are for the weak. Why do you not speak your language now, Tumgol?"
It takes a frustratingly long time to come up with the right words – it has been so long since I last spoke my language, I must at the very least have gained some ridiculous Common accent. "I did not know where to even start looking. Fal Zhardum Din is enormous."
The dragon inclines its head. "Geh. It is large. Has no Dov told you of the power of names, Dov Fus Bel? A true Dovah will always answer a challenge of its name. Call it, Dovahkiin. Call the name you know me by!"
He advances across the bridge, and my only option out is to risk jumping to the toxic waters below. I have no choice. I must call out his name then, if he wants it so badly.
A deep breath.
"VULTHURYOL!"
I am answered with a roar, loud enough to shake the stone foundations we are both balancing on, the water rippling outwards and I can't supress a shiver at the sheer power emanating from the primal sound the dark-scaled dragon makes.
In the cry, however, I also hear something that goes deeper than mere sound – something heavy that makes my breath lock in my throat and pulls at my bones, my heart, my very being:
"YSMIR!"
The dragon grins. "Ah, Pruzah. You know Hon, to listen. I had nearly thought you were incapable. Mu Loost Tiid Mal, we have little time."
I nod slowly, remembering what he called out to me, and what happened back in Nchuand-Zel: "You said we were running out of time. Why?"
Teeth, sharp and lethal, are bared even as the dragon shifts backwards to look at the burning, fake sun in the centre of the caverns, looming over city ruins and giant mushrooms alike. He appears to be deep in contemplation when he finally answers me:
"The end of Tiid Kel is afoot. It will be destroyed before the Firstborn rises – but it will have sat here all along. It will be left abandoned through itself, but it will have been found long before yet after it was lost."
What in Nirn is he talking about?
Eyes, pupils like slits and as deep and endless as the darkness lurking on the edges of Fal Zhardum Din, meet mine.
"I cannot abandon my post. Zu'u Los Deinmaar Tum-Qethsegol. I am protector of Fal Zhardum Din, and without my presence, the Fallen Elves will take the Kel. "
"But the Elder Scroll isn't even here!" I bark out angrily before I can keep my tongue in check, the frustration that has plagued me for days bubbling back to the surface now that the initial moments of shock and awe have passed at seeing the creature from my dreams in front of me.
An inscrutable look.
"Fun Hi Miiraad. I told you of the path. I have Sul Miin – I can see Miiraad, the flow of Time, clearer than my Fron, or my kin. I see what will come to be. But you must ensure it comes, Dovahkiin. My visions tell me of a place of secret Tumgol scholars, hidden in mountains. Kagrenzel. Find it. Bo Ko Kun."
It's… harder to follow along with Vulthuryol than it is with Paarthurnax. He speaks in a downright archaic form of Dwemeris, using words and turns of phrase that I have to dredge up from the deepest recesses of my mind – and I am not so fluent in Dovahzul that I can tell exactly what everything means.
Or if it's just Dwemeris so ancient I don't know it either way.
From what I can catch, he means for me to follow along a path that he told me about, perhaps he referred to the nonsense of 'abandoned-through-itself' something blah-blah. He can also… see into the future? Or the past? Or time in general. It's hard to tell. I do understand that there is a secret research facility hidden away somewhere which holds the actual Elder Scroll.
Septimus lied. I should have suspected.
I have, however, no clue as to what 'Bo Ko Kun' is supposed to mean.
And I've never once in my life heard of any "Kagrenzel".
"…Right." I end up muttering, frowning in confusion. Perhaps if Marcurio was he we could-
Marcurio isn't here.
A pause in my mind.
He's probably whining about wet clothing somewhere down by the water right now.
I breathe again.
That… That is something I can worry about later. When I do not have an ancient and powerful dragon breathing down my neck.
It's not healthy, but I don't care.
"So I must find the facility and retrieve the Scroll there. And… what then?"
Vulthuryol grins sharply, spreading his wings.
"Return to where you called my name before you run out of time. Daal Nau Tiid, Tumgol Dovahkiin. Ruz Zaan."
Wings beat, the dust whipping up around me as I duck down, holding my bracers in front of my face and squeezing my eyes shut against being blinded.
By the time I reopen my eyes, the fire-breathing haunter of my dreams is long gone. I take a shuddering breath as I let his final words sink in:
"Return here on time, Dwemer Dragonborn. Then you must Shout."
…I'm getting really tired of all these puzzles and riddles.
For now, I will have to search for a secret Dwemer research facility that was likely kept from even other Dwemer. I had to do that, on a deadline, while also getting to terms with Marcurio and upholding my other numerous obligations to Sithis and Elisif, and fulfilling my promise to Paarthurnax.
I turn sharply on my heel and stomp back towards the double doors of the Tower of Mzark.
Ugh, I think I'll start my search in Falkreath so I can drop by the Dark Brotherhood. Someone is going to be killed to curb my temper and lighten my frustration, so I might as well be paid for it while I'm at it.
I step back onto the surface of Skyrim to find that Lydia and Erandur have long since left, probably to avoid the snowstorm that was now hitting me in the face before I even left the relatively sheltered, barred exit platform.
Well isn't this just fucking fantastic?
At least I have something to chase after again. It's better than being left to my thoughts all by myself.
My thoughts are a more dangerous place to be than this shitty, ice-cold, lethal, biting snowstorm could ever dream to be.
A/N: If you must know, google the words you don't recognize on Thu-um. org which I use for pretty much all my Dovahzul. I did include some translations here, though:
Goraan Dovahkiin: Young Dragonborn
Rot: Word
Tumgol: Dwemer
Geh: Yes
Dov Fus Bel: "Dragon Force Summon"
Pruzah: Good/well/fitting
Hon: Listen
Mu Loost Tiid Mal: We possess little time.
Tum-Qethsegol: Blackreach in Dovahzul
Fun Hi Miiraad: I tell you/ I told you of the path. (Literally: Tell You Pathway.)
Sul Miin: Time Eye
Bo Ko Kun: Multiple translations possible. Fly/move/come within/during/with the Light/rightness/right path. I take it to mean "Fly along the right path".