CHAPTER 26: SKY ABOVE, VOICE WITHIN
On the tenth day of Frost Fall, Natsu sat atop of a tower, swinging his legs over open air. Perhaps an old belfry, it had now become a place he retreated to when Lucy trained with the Greybeards. The canopy where a bell had once hung protected him from the wind and snow, and the fire in the brazier behind him kept him warm. Maybe he ought to call it 'meditating', but in fact, Natsu just sat there dreaming of spiced mead.
"Wuld Nah Kest!"
Like a gust of wind, the strength of the Greybeard's voice carried all over to Natsu, across the great courtyard. He didn't want to be around when they taught Lucy the secrets of the dragon language. When they spoke, Natsu felt like all his bones were breaking and muscles tearing apart, so he preferred to be out of the way of their words.
He looked down from the tower. Lucy repeated the Greybeard's word and sprung through the air, to the other side of a gate, right before it closed. It seemed that the dragons used those words to sprint faster than the wind. He had seen in Helgen how fast the black dragon soared through the smoke, possibly using the same Shout, or Thu'um, or Voice, whatever it was called, Natsu was too confused to know for sure.
Natsu had once heard that the Greybeards could kill you by uttering a single word, and he didn't doubt it now – their voices truly had an unmatched power. However, their philosophies didn't allow violence of any kind, and he and Lucy were met with warm, quiet hospitality. Serving the Dragonborn was the greatest honour for them. And as a companion of the Dragonborn, Natsu was received as 'an honourable quest', nothing more and nothing less, and treated with pleasant indifference.
Natsu turned his eyes back to the pale sky above him. The sun hid behind a curtain of thin white clouds, and wouldn't climb any higher today. Natsu held his arms on his lap, fiddling the long, grey sleeves of his robes. As all of their own clothes were stained in blood, the Greybeards had given him and Lucy sets of monk's robes. They were surprisingly comfortable, made from thick, warm wool, but lacked any magical enchantments.
In addition to being clothed, they were also provided with food and drink, and allowed to roam freely in the monastery. The only restricted area was the path that led to the very peak of the mountain, around half a day's walk from here. A barrier of wind protected the gate, and anyone who'd try to pass through it would be torn into shreds.
There was a reason why they weren't allowed to go there. Master Arngeir had said that Paathurnax, their leader, lived in seclusion on the summit of the Throat of the World. He spoke to the others rarely, and never to outsiders, and nothing else was said about him. Usually, anything forbidden intrigued Natsu, but this did not. There were more interesting things in the monastery, like the many hidden tunnels and chambers he had explored. A lone monk living on the peak of the mountain failed to spark his curiosity.
While Lucy woke up at dawn to train with the Greybeards in the courtyard, Natsu often headed into the abandoned parts of the monastery. He hadn't told Lucy about it, but there was a trap door in the corner of the dining hall which led into a narrow, underground path. The wall had collapsed at one point, but there was enough room for him to crawl past it, into the burrows carved on the stone of the mountain.
As the chambers hadn't been used in centuries, he spent his time wondering what had happened there, and what kind of ghosts the Greybeards hid in their cellars. Those lone expeditions had kept him sane so far, even though he hadn't found anything significant, except one brittle book. He had hidden it in the safety of his backpack to wait for the time he'd feel like reading it.
When he didn't delve into the forgotten corridors, he worked with small tasks, like dusting the books or collecting water from the well. The Greybeards hadn't asked anything in return for their generosity, but it made him feel useful. And somedays, like today, he climbed into the belltower to watch Lucy's training, from a safe distance away.
And so, the days had followed each other, melting into one as if it was the same day repeating again and again. Time crawled and flew at the same time.
But strangely, as he was here closest to the sky as he had ever been, calmness had begun to fill the heart which had once welled in so much rage. There was soothing magic in the atmosphere, in the eerie silence, which seemed to wash away the past restlessness. Where had once been a storm, was now stillness, like the surface of a lake on a summer's night absent of all waves.
Or then it was just a poetic expression for utter boredom.
At noon, the Greybeards would withdraw into the monastery to pray and meditate. Then Lucy would be free to train magic with Natsu, and that's what they'd done a lot lately. They battled with the atronachs, practised with wards and offensive spells, even playfully duelled against each other until they both ran out of magicka. Her spells had begun to have a real bite, but training with her was the fun part of the day he waited with great anticipation.
Sometimes, as her skills kept increasing, it cleared to him that there would come a day when she wouldn't need him anymore. The promise to keep her safe would become inevitably obsolete as she'd become stronger, much stronger than Natsu was. Eventually, she'd be the one to protect him, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it. If she wouldn't need him to teach her, or protect her, would she still want him around?
As the cold wind bit through his leather boots, he pulled his legs close to his body. He glanced down, unbothered by the fall. The highs had never scared him. Lucy seemed more anxious about his climbing, just as his mother had been when he had been clinging in the treetops or chimneys on the roof. Natsu watched as she became a whirlwind again, wondering what they should do today after her lesson.
'Maybe she'd be ready to summon a flame atronach?' Natsu wondered and leaned his chin to his hands. Lucy's conjurations had increased in strength and durability, so maybe it would be a good thing to practice next. 'It would be nice if my flame boy had a buddy.'
He smiled at the thought.
After exhausting their magicka, they usually headed indoors for dinner. There wasn't much food in the monastery. The monks seemed to live on air and sunlight only, but such wasn't the case with Natsu. As he never had enough food as a child, he had learned to eat as much as he could when it was available. Here they had to live on snowberries, salted meat, dry bread and aged cheese, things that kept fresh for a long time. Lucy didn't complain about it, but she hadn't known hunger as he had. At this point, Natsu would do anything for a hearty meal at Mirajane's table.
Usually, when they had eaten, they spent the rest of the day in the sleeping quarters they had taken residence of, in the western wing of the building. There were many of the chambers there, most had been vacant for decades. Maybe once there had been more of the Greybeards than these four: Arngeir, Borri, Einarth and Wulfgar. Well, Paathurnax was the fifth Greybeard, but he didn't live with the rest of them.
The evenings there were often calm and quiet. Lucy kept reading the books she found in the shelves on the hallways, absorbing knowledge and lore like a drought-ridden tree in a rain. Sometimes she read aloud the funniest stories for Natsu. Master Arngeir had once said it was good to hear laughter echoing in the halls of High Hrothgar.
Master Arngeir was the only one who could talk without using the dragon language, therefore he served as the general spokesman for the Greybeards. So far, Arngeir had talked little with Natsu, for he only spoke when he needed to. And the others, they didn't say a single word to him. Their voices were too powerful for him to withstand, and Natsu didn't want to risk getting killed by a whisper.
How ironic would that be?
"Her quick mastery of a new Thu'um is… astonishing," said a voice behind him, frail from old age. "Isn't it?"
Natsu turned his head. Master Arngeir stood there, just as he had thought about him. There was no tension in his presence, only tranquillity. Why was he here now, with what words?
"Sure is," Natsu answered and turned his gaze back to the courtyard below. The other monks were now gone, the lesson for today over.
"She has the inborn gift, but does she have the discipline and temperament to follow the path laid out for her?" Arngeir wondered. "That remains to be seen."
The Greybeard stopped beside him, standing on the edge of the belfry. His long beard swung in the wind as his wise eyes focused on the distant horizon. Arngeir often meditated in this tower, familiar with the landscape opening from here.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" the mage asked.
The monk chuckled. "The appearance of a Dragonborn at this time is no accident. Her destiny is surely bound up with the return of the dragons. She should focus on honing her Voice, and soon her path will be clear." Arngeir paused for a breath. "But, she shouldn't let her easy mastery of the Voice tempt her into arrogance of power that has been the downfall of the many Dragonborn before her. And that's why I sought you out. Your role in all of this is no accident either."
Flinching, Natsu glanced at the monk again. In his mind, Natsu had come to the same conclusion but never dared to say it to anyone. He had been the one who didn't believe in destiny or fate, but it had begun to change. The fracture of time before the headsman axe would've chopped off his head had been so small, so insignificant that it couldn't be sculpted by anything else than fate. All of this was happening for a reason.
But what would the eventual reason be? He was alive, he was here because he was supposed to. That was all he knew.
"Well, what is it?" Natsu asked. "What do you want of me?"
He understood where Arngeir was going with the talk of arrogance. Somehow Natsu knew that getting whacked by the frost troll had been only a beginning. If she wouldn't learn to humble down in front of Skyrim's deadly creatures, she'd plunge straight into her destruction, and drag him with her. Being more rock-headed than her would be the only solution, but there was a limit to which one's head could harden. Lucy had a dragon's will. He had only a man's.
"We can show her the way, but not the destination. We can guide her to find out what it means to be a Dragonborn. We can teach her how to use the gift bestowed to her," Arngeir said quietly and glanced at him. "But what's the word of an old man against the word of a friend? You, the one who walks beside her, can guide her back to the light if she ever strays from the path of wisdom."
Natsu fell silent.
If, and when the night would fall, it would fall on them both. To him, Igneel had been the one who guided him back to the light when he had strayed into the dark. Could he ever do the same? Would he keep carrying the torch Igneel had once lit, as it had now passed down to him? As he wondered that in silence, the monk continued.
"Arrogance is the frailty of the Dragonkind, and it's the curse of those with the Dragonblood as well. As she's soon ready for her last trial, I'd personally like to task you with a request," Arngeir told. Natsu turned his eyes to the monk, focusing on what he'd say next. "Growing her gift too quickly could be dangerous. The power of the Voice was misused in the past, as it had been misused just recently. I hope you can remind her of the true purpose of her gift if she ever forgets it. That's all I ask of you."
Natsu looked down from the belltower again. Lucy stood there on the cliffside, now alone, watching over the world below. As she was a dragon born in the body of a mortal, sometimes Natsu thought if she longed to fly as the dragons did. Because that's how she looked like, like she was ready to spread her wings and soar through the skies, yet chained on earth in her wingless form.
"Misused how?" Natsu asked, knitting his brow. "She's just Lucy. And she's good. I can't see how she'd ever misuse the power granted to her."
"As we never thought Ulfric Stormcloak would use his Thu'um to murder his king and usurp his throne," Arngeir answered woefully. "He came here as a boy, chosen to become a Greybeard himself, and we trained him for a decade. To our disdain, he chose a very different path of blood and violence. The Voice should only be used in the worship of Kynareth, yet now he rages war across the country."
Natsu shrugged. He had heard of that rumour quite a many times when he'd been imprisoned with Ulfric Stormcloak himself. But that man was no Dragonborn, he had not the same power as Lucy. And Ulfric, in his own way, believed his actions were meant for good, and he used his Thu'um to drive away the Imperials who had slaughtered his people.
The thought of Ulfric and his rebellion reminded Natsu of the events of the world. They had been in High Hrothgar for a while now, and knew nothing of what had happened meanwhile. How was the war? Or the dragons? What they could have missed? The thought made him restless.
But Natsu knew Lucy would never misuse her powers. Damn, she didn't even want any of this, but she still bravely carried her burden. As she had told him, she just wanted to study magic in the College of Winterhold, nothing more.
"Lucy wouldn't do that," Natsu answered, sure of his words. "Headstrong she might be, but she's not evil."
Master Arngeir nodded. "I know. And we're glad you trust in that."
"But why telling me this now? After being silent all this time," the mage asked, sensing something behind the monk's sudden action of seeking him out.
"As I said, she's ready for her last trial. I wanted to speak with you first, to have ensured that she's in safe hands once she walks out of the monastery." Arngeir turned away to take his leave. "And today shall be the day."
Arngeir was already gone before Natsu got to answer, the stone door of the stairway slammed shut by the wind. Dumbfounded, the mage blinked his eyes, unable to believe what the monk had just said.
Today would be the day?
It felt like yesterday when she had arrived at High Hrothgar, wounded and barely conscious.
Lucy remembered clutching into Natsu's arm when Arngeir had approached them, most surprised when the monk spoke to her without shattering her bones. She had been welcomed to the monastery with no ceremonies. The only thing the Greybeard had asked for was a taste of her Voice, to let them see that she truly was the Dragonborn.
It had taken her a moment then to gather the dragon's knowledge and form it as a word. A faint whisper of 'Fus' had been all she managed to utter, but it had been enough. As soon as she had said that, her vision had dimmed out, and from what happened then she had no memory of. Natsu had said she passed out and didn't wake up until the late evening of the next day. Lucy didn't remember that either. Her next true memory was days after their arrival.
The first week had been a struggle. She had never been so severely injured – paper cuts and bruises had been all she'd got before. The Greybeards had used their restoration magic to help her heal when the fever had spiked, and she hadn't been able to walk. The pain had been unbearable at moments, and it had taken her a long time until she could move her left arm freely again.
It still hurt, but not as much as it used to. She'd be left with a jagged scar, but she'd wear it as a reminder. 'Don't overestimate yourself,' it said, in all of its ugliness.
When Lucy had healed enough, she had begun her training. Lucy had come here seeking for answers, and some she had found indeed. As she knew already, she could now speak in the language of the dragons, granted to her by the Dragonblood, and it meant to Shout. Dragons had the inborn ability to project their Voice, and absorb the powers of their slain brethren, and a few, rare mortals had been born with the same abilities. Whether it was a gift or a curse had been a matter of debate for centuries.
At the dawn of time, when mortalkind was in great need, the goddess Kynareth granted humans the ability to speak as the dragons did, so they could fight their dragon overlords. However, it wasn't the same thing as the Dragonblood. Through constant practice and years of meditation, any human could learn to Shout, but only a Dragonborn could learn it intuitively, almost with no effort.
The Greybeards taught her the Shouts were made from three Words of Power, and mastering each word made it progressively stronger. She had learned her first word directly from the dragon she had slain, 'Fus', which meant 'force.' The whole Shout was called 'Unrelenting Force,' as it pushed aside anything in its path.
As a part of her initiation, Master Einarth had taught her the word 'Ro,' meaning 'balance.' Combining it with the first word helped her to focus her Thu'um, a Shout in the dragon language, more sharply. Learning the word was only the first step, for the power had to be unlocked through constant practice in order to use it. At least that's how it went for the others, but as a Dragonborn, she could use the slain dragon's lifeforce and knowledge to learn it much faster.
However, it meant she had to dig into Sahklonir's memories consciously. Meditation was a safe way to explore those violent visions and tap the knowledge without shattering her heart in the process. Following the Greybeards' example, she often went to the courtyard, to the cliffside, and knelt before the open skies. There she focused on the sounds of the wind, whispers of the sky, and emptied her mind from everything. And in that emptiness, she found the soul of a dragon within her.
It took some time, but each day made it easier for her to understand how to project her soul into the Thu'um. Yet at the same, she still battled with the events of the seven thousand steps. The fear and the pain were like noise hindering her process, as the wounds were still left to heal fully. Losing to the frost troll had taught her a lot.
Lately, she had come to understand that the recklessness didn't come from her. It came from the soul of Sahklonir, as if it still struggled to surface in acts of arrogancy and carelessness. The dragons had never feared anything, and that confidence seeped into her consciousness. She had to stay aware of it now, she knew, or it would consume her to the bone.
And now, over a month after her arrival, the Thu'um rushed forward, carrying her in its wake like a tempest. Whirlwind Sprint, the Shout was called. The gate closed right after Lucy passed it through, the strength of the word now fading.
Lucy's gaze travelled across the courtyard as she stopped. She spotted the pink-haired mage atop of the bell tower, sitting on the edge as if the fall didn't frighten him at all. It frightened her instead. It took a while before she could Shout again, but then she'd rush there and yell at him to get down from there. It probably wouldn't work. She'd have to personally go and drag him down.
The four monks now nodded to her, signing her practice today done. She nodded back to them, a quiet thanks for the knowledge she had received.
When the Greybeards were gone, Lucy sighed, her throat dry from exhausting her voice. She walked across the frost-covered stones until she reached the cliffside, and stopped before reaching the edge. She never dared to peek down from it, but Natsu said the cliff was precipitous, hundreds of meters worth of free fall. The thought alone sent shivers down her spine.
Unlike many other days, the wind was merciful today. It blew against her body like a light whisper, swinging her fair, opened hair in the air. Inhaling the frigid breeze into her lungs, she let her eyes rest on the view, as the world now looked so small she had almost forgotten how vast it was.
It had been maybe a fortnight ago when Lucy had sighted a dragon flying over the mountains north from here. It had been too far away for proper recognition, but Lucy had a feeling it was the black dragon. She had sensed its age-old hatred and bloodlust across the distance. What was it doing, or where was it going, Lucy hadn't been able to tell.
Unfortunately, the Greybeards hadn't taught her much about the dragons. Somedays she found herself getting angry at Arngeir when he refused to answer her many questions. Maybe the Greybeards didn't even think of dragons as an evil, menacing threat, but as a part of the natural order of the world. It could've explained why they were so pensive to talk about defeating them.
And in all honestly, Lucy still struggled to understand how the Voice would help her fighting the dragons. The contemplation of the sky wouldn't make them go away. Some days she feared she had just wasted her time, staring into the distant horizon as if the world below her wasn't burning.
Lucy cast away the thought. Of all the people in the world, the Greybeards must know best how to use the gift bestowed to her. Eventually, they'd tell her how to use it against the dragons. And so Lucy stood there on the cliff, embracing the silence, allowing the worries to flee from her mind with the wind.
The approaching steps broke the tranquillity.
"Dragonborn," said Arngeir's voice behind her. "We have now decided you are ready for your last trial."
Lucy's eyes widened at the sudden declaration. She turned around and faced the monk, no lies in the old man's face.
"Really?" she asked. "But I just arrived here, and I can't… Well, there has to be more you can teach me."
"There is indeed much we know that you do know not. That doesn't mean you're ready to understand it," Arngeir said, no harshness in his tone. "You will continue your training, but not here. The next trial will be on the field."
Lucy stared at him in silence, finding it hard to believe. There had been no warning, not even a single word about when her training would be completed. She had expected it to take much longer, because there was still so much more she did not know.
"Then tell me what it is," she said then.
"You ought to retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, our founder, from his tomb in the ancient fane of Ustengrav. Remain true to the Way of the Voice, and you will return."
Lucy swallowed. She had hoped to return to the College to further train her magical abilities instead of this delay. But, if the Greybeards thought of that as the last trial, it surely had to be important. She could always train with Natsu, but she couldn't wait to go back to Winterhold. This monastery had begun to feel much more like home than the College.
"Jurgen Windcaller?" Lucy asked. "I'm sure I've read about him in the wayshrines. Who was he, exactly? What did he do?"
"He was a great war leader of the ancient Nords, a master of the Voice. After the disaster at Red Mountain, where the Nord army was annihilated, he spent many years pondering the meaning of that terrible defeat. He finally came to realise that the gods had punished the Nords for their arrogant and blasphemous misuse of the Voice," Arngeir explained. "He was the first to understand that the Voice should be used solely for the glory and worship of the gods, not the glory of men. Jurgen Windcaller's mastery of the Voice eventually overcame all opposition, and the Way of the Voice was born."
The wind kept howling as Lucy nodded slowly. More questions struggled to get out of her mouth, but she kept her lips sealed. She wanted to ask more about the dragons, and how to slay them, but already knew the monk wouldn't give her the answers she wanted.
"Do you have any questions before you go?" Arngeir asked, as if seeing through her mind.
"Well, actually, there is," Lucy began, but hesitated for a moment. If there was only one thing she needed an answer for before she'd go, it would be this: "Why am I the Dragonborn? Am I the only one?"
The monk smiled with his old gaze. "The Dragonblood itself is a gift of the gods. Do not try to deny that gift, for it was given to you directly by Akatosh. But whether you are the only Dragonborn of this age… that is not for ours to know. You are the only one who has been revealed thus far. That is all I can say."
Lucy lowered her eyes to her boots. "I try not to deny that gift, but…"
"Your destiny requires you to use your Voice – why else Akatosh would have bestowed this power upon you?" the monk said. "If you remember to use your Voice in service to the purpose of Akatosh, you will remain true to the Way."
Lucy nodded to the monk, falling into deep pondering over his words. And again, there hadn't been anything helpful in the Greybeard's answer, just as cryptic as everything before. But, all that mattered was that now she'd be ready to exercise her gift outside the monastery's walls, in the real world where it was needed.
Master Arngeir left then, and Lucy noticed that the mage had disappeared from the tower. Her stomach dropped as she thought he had fallen down, but then her gaze found him in front of the wind-sealed gate. She couldn't wait to tell him the news. Though she had enjoyed her stay in High Hrothgar, she couldn't wait to get out of there.
"Arngeir said I'm ready for the last trial!" she shouted across the courtyard, catching his attention. "We can leave today!"
Lucy couldn't even imagine how bored he must've been all this time. He hadn't complained much, but what had he been even doing while she trained with the Greybeards? Dusting books, reading them, and then dusting them again?
"That's great!" Natsu answered. His voice echoed on the mountains. "Well, what is it? The last trial?"
Lucy smiled, barely able to contain her excitement. "Come here so I don't have to shout!"
As he had been studying the gate to the summit, Lucy hoped he had no intentions to attempt breaking through it. Arngeir had said that once she'd be ready, she'd be allowed to meet Paathurnax, but the time wasn't now. Probably wasn't anywhere in the near future. The path could only be opened when her Voice would be strong enough, and she'd gladly wait until then.
The mage crossed the yard, and Lucy spoke as he came to her. "We have to retrieve a horn from Ustengrav, and then bring it back."
"Ustengrav?" Natsu asked, his brow lifted. "If I remember right, that's near my old home, in the marshlands."
"Really? So, you know where it is?"
"Not exactly, but about. Somewhere between Morthal and Solitude," the mage answered and smiled. "It's gonna be another long journey for us…"
Lucy exhaled. From what she knew, Solitude was far away. When her parent's shop had received goods from Solitude's merchants, it often took them weeks to arrive. It could take them another month or two before they'd be back in Winterhold. But if this was the path she was supposed to walk, then she had no choice but to go.
As Lucy stared into the horizon in silence, Natsu tugged her from the sleeve and gestured at the monastery's tall stone doors. "Come on then, it's time to get going again!"
The mages walked through the silent, dim-lit hallways of the monastery, into their quarters in the western wing. And after threading these halls so many times in the past month, Lucy felt almost wistful to leave them behind. She had been here much longer than she'd been in the College, after all.
Faint light flooded through the windows as they stepped into the small chamber. There were few stone beds with fur pelts as mattresses, and after sleeping on those for a month, Lucy longed to sleep in Natsu's conjured tent again. Compared to these beds, anything in the world was soft and comfortable.
Lucy headed to the drawer where she kept her backpack, journal, and books. All of her clothes were now gone, bloodied and torn, so she was clad in the monk's grey robes. As the monks were gaunt and small, their robes fit her well, and she assumed she could leave the monastery dressed in them. She still had some gold left, so she could buy herself new mage's robes from the next town they'd reach.
"Where did I put my map?" Natsu asked, aggressively going through his bag. He tossed all of his belongings to his bed until he found the scrolled piece of parchment. "Here!"
The mage spread the map on the bed. Lucy, already finished packing her few things, peeked over his shoulder as Natsu placed his finger somewhere past Morthal, halfway to Solitude.
"I'm pretty sure it's somewhere around here," he explained. "My brother once told me he visited Ustengrav during his alchemy research. He used to disappear into the marshlands for days to collect deathbells and swamp fungal pods." Then he moved his finger southwest on the map, to the forest east of Dragonbridge. "We lived here."
"That's close, then," Lucy said, a sudden idea appearing in her mind. "Because we're passing by, we could visit your dad if –"
Natsu shook his head and turned his eyes from the map to her. "No."
"Why not?" she wondered, blinked as the mage's sharp gaze pierced through her.
"If my dad wants me to come home, he would've already asked," he answered with a frustrated, pained sigh. "And when I left, he made it rather clear he wouldn't want to see me ever again."
As Lucy found no words to answer that with, the mage switched his gaze back to the parchment, suddenly falling silent too. Lucy hadn't meant to upset him. She just thought one should honour their living relatives. As long as they were alive, it was possible to reconcile, but Natsu probably didn't believe so.
"The house was never really my home, though," he said after the silence. "The forest was, and the marshland. The ruins nearby, and the sea, the rivers too. I think it's going to be a good trip, to visit the lands of my youth once for a while."
Lucy smiled faintly. "You've never been in that area since you left?"
"Yeah. Rorikstead's the closest I've been to that place," Natsu answered, now focusing on the map again. "But since we probably have to go back to Ivarstead, then we could go from the mountain pass, or through Valtheim towers. Either way, we'll end up in Whiterun. Then we could figure out how to continue."
"Alright," Lucy agreed to his plan. Having Whiterun as their next destination felt like the right choice. "It's probably going to take a while."
"Probably, but we've got nothing but time, right?"
It didn't take them long to get ready to go. Natsu packed his things quick, and then they both dressed in their travelling gear, or what was left of it – the fur cloaks and the knee-high leather boots. Lucy closed the stone door behind her as they headed out, the late-night conversations shared there going through her mind.
Though she was excited to begin a new journey, a new adventure, she was a bit scared as well. What would happen on the way to their next destination, and what would they find there? And as they both had lost their weapons, her bow broken and Natsu's dagger still stuck in the frost troll's face, they were more vulnerable than before. Would they even make it back to Ivarstead in one piece?
Of course they would, Lucy knew, as she tried to chase away the nervousness. She had learned many new spells, and had a fully different touch to magic now. She had gained confidence and precision, and couldn't wait to demonstrate her skills in a real battle.
When they arrived in the great entry hall, Arngeir and the rest of the monks were waiting for them. They studied the mages with their wise, old eyes, greeting them farewell. Lucy knew she'd miss them in a strange way, even the quiet ones. They were sympathetic folk.
"We await for your return, Dragonborn," master Arngeir said, brought his hands together and bowed down. The three other monks did the same, yet in silence. "Sky above, Voice within."
"Sky above, Voice within," Lucy repeated, bowed, and then they walked out of the monastery.
And as she stood on the steps of High Hrothgar, she realized she had no memory of arriving at this door. She couldn't remember how the monastery had looked from the outside, not how the towers had contrasted against the clear sky, and definitely not the statue of Talos welcoming the pilgrims who made it this far.
"Hey, I never read the tenth wayshrine," Lucy said, gazing at the sculpture. The day was bright, and she had to squint her eyes. "Somehow I completely forgot about it."
"Probably because you were unconscious for days," the mage answered.
Lucy walked down the path to the statue, and Natsu followed her. She knelt before the stone tablet etched on the foundation of it and read aloud.
"The Voice is worship – Follow the Inner path – Speak only in True Need." Lucy sighed. "Yeah, I've heard that so many times I don't even bother to write it up."
They both silenced in front of the statue. The longer they stared, the deeper those stone eyes seemed to pierce through them. An old man's likeness carved in stone, face veiled behind a winged helmet, armoured arms holding a greatsword on a serpent's neck. Ysmir, the Dragon of the North, as the Greybeards had once titled him.
Lucy had once been confused about the whole aspect of Talos, ever since the Thalmor had banned his worship. Here in High Hrothgar, she had learnt the whole story of the most important hero-god of mankind. Tiber Septim, fighting under the name of general Talos Stormcrown, had been the first and the only one to ever unite all the kingdoms of the continent. He had founded the Third Empire and the Septim Dynasty which had ruled for centuries until the Oblivion Crisis, when all of his heirs were killed.
What interest her the most was that Talos had been a Dragonborn, yet he never slew any dragons – there were no dragons in Skyrim at that time. However, Talos had shown great strength in his Thu'um, as he had the inborn ability to learn the art of the Voice. Then the Greybeards had summoned him to the High Hrothgar to guide him towards his destiny of becoming the emperor of all Tamriel.
And after Talos, no one else had been summoned to the monastery except Lucy.
"You know what frustrates me the most?" Lucy asked suddenly. Natsu turned his eyes to her. "I still don't know what's my destiny. I had hoped the Greybeards would help me find it, but all I got was this mumbling about how it's for me to discover."
"But that's true, isn't it?" Natsu answered. "Besides, you once told me that a man's the master of his own fate. We're here cause we're here. That's all we need to know now."
Lucy smiled at him. "You're right."
"Turning back and asking more won't help either. The Greybeards only helped you with learning the dragon language. The rest is for you to figure out. Maybe we'll find some hints in Ustengrav, or maybe the monks will tell you more once you've retrieved that thing. Until that, we just have to live on, keep going and see what happens."
Lucy glanced into the horizon. "First we could figure out which way to go."
"What do you mean? There's only one way down. The same which we came from."
The path ahead of them led to the troll's lair, and it was a path Lucy did not want to walk again. Natsu had maybe managed to kill it, but only maybe. She had become a lot stronger during her training, but damn, the very thought of a troll made her so sick she could barely walk. As if her wound started bleeding again.
"Let me try something," Lucy said suddenly.
She cast the spell Clairvoyance, imagining the next destination in her mind. Whiterun, a place she had been many times before.
A trail of light appeared from her palms, but instead of following the stairs, it went straight down the mountainside. Natsu frowned as he watched her moving after the light to see where it led.
"Well… here's a path," Lucy said, barely daring to peek down from the edge. There was no steep fall, but a narrow, rocky path – one could go down it, but not up. Lucy dispelled Clairvoyance, trying to trust the spell would truly show the right, fastest way. "Kinda."
"Really?" Natsu asked, suddenly sounding excited. He rushed to her side, and peered down as well. "It looks like one could go down… sliding."
Lucy raised her head. She could barely see the shape of the city far ahead of them, knowing it was Whiterun. Following the seven thousand steps again would lead them to the other side of the mountain, and the roads leading to the destination would take a week or more to walk. Going down this way, they could save a lot of time.
"I don't know. It looks dangerous," Lucy muttered, glancing at the mage. He wasn't scared at all. "But, I think I'd rather die by falling down than being eaten alive by a frost troll…"
"It's not like we're going to die," Natsu said, grabbed her hand and stepped into the rocky path, snow falling into the slopes. Lucy had no time to change her mind as he pulled her arm, urging her to follow. If she wouldn't walk, then she'd fall.
"This," she exhaled loudly, "is the stupidest, most foolish idea ever!"
The mage chuckled, and though Lucy couldn't see his face, she could imagine his mischievous grin. "Just don't let go of my hand and it's going to be fine. We'll be in Whiterun tomorrow. What does a warm meal sound like?"
She was too frightened to answer. With her right hand, she squeezed her fingers tighter around the mage's, and took support from the rocky mountainside with her left. 'Well, like an offer too tempting to refuse,' she thought.
A/N: Hi guys, hope you liked the chapter!
So I decided to do the monastery part with a time-jump technique. I hope it worked that way and didn't feel too rushed, let me know what you thought. In the game, you spend very little time in there, but it wouldn't work in a story form. I also didn't want to describe her practice with the monks in too much detail, so I hoped this was enough to gap what she learned with the Greybeards – and what she didn't. Besides, they'll come around again later on the story, when she'll learn more.
I'll maybe write a one-shot or a flashback about Natsu's adventures in the underground of the monastery and Lucy's training with the Greybeards in more detail. I made many additions to High Hrothgar to make it seem larger than it is in the game, because I could. The secret path down the mountain is actually my personal gameplay way to get down from the monastery. I've became a master of estimating from which length I can fall without dying lol. Natsu and Lucy will soon realise it wasn't such a good idea to go that way, but well at least they saved a week's worth of time at the cost of a few broken ankles.
When I played Skyrim for the first time, I stole a horse from the Stormcloak camp below the mountain and climbed the mountain wall with the horse. It took me a few hours of real-life time to get to the damn mountain. I didn't know that the path started from Ivarstead xD
Next up will be the Whiterun arc! It's going to serve as a comedic relief before things get darker. One hint: it's going to include Jorrvaskr, Companions, and heavy drinking.
PS: I started a Tumblr blog with the same username, where I'll eventually start posting my writings too, and extra stuff about this fic, like art/inspiration/music. There's nothing much yet, but feel free to check it out if you're interested.
