Disclaimer: I do not own or claim any rights to the Elder Scroll Series. This is purely fanfiction.

Author's Note: For any of you wondering why I have "cut" the greybeard visit short, Since 2008 I have played more playthrough's than any living being should be able to play. I can quote the Main quest line word for word. If I change things up, it is simply so that I will not tire of the material and lose motivation to continue writing. If you haven't played Skyrim and just stumbled up onto this by accident, feel free to google the Wikki.

Chapter 20: The Way of the Voice

Mahrig

Having been to the farthest reaches of Northern Skyrim and back, one would think that I would have developed some kind of endurance to Skyrim's icy clutches. This was simply not the case. I'm not sure if it was the numerous Ice Wraith's we fought during our journey up Kyne's Sacred mountain, or the horrible Snow Storm that blew in the night before forcing us to make shelter and freezing the path of the 7,000 steps to High Hrothgar, but my body felt numb. It had all started with a dull pain that began in my feet and resonated through my legs. I began awkwardly limping with both legs, however that had been possible. After the pain in my feet and legs faded, I was simply numb causing my balance to be off considering I couldn't feel where I was stepping.

Our long tedious journey up the mountain was nearly complete, and the temple I had longed to lay my eyes upon was in sight when my legs finally gave underneath me. I just sat atop the frozen ground and silently chided my regrets.

"You okay flower?" Theo was now kneeling in front of me with an outstretched hand. He knew my weakness to the cold all too well. Gareth hadn't noticed my current dilemma. His attention was on the great stone temple in the distance as we had rounded the last corner of our ascension. I pushed with all my strength to regain my ground, but my legs wouldn't comply.

"Uh, yeah. I think my lower body needs a minute to thaw out." My sarcastic reply gained a chuckle from Krahmer who, without my permission, scooped me up from the frozen ground almost effortlessly. Theo shrugged.

"I could think of a way or two to heat your lower portion up." Theo Winked.

"I'd rather go back and cuddle with the frost trolls," I remarked before Krahmer started off in the direction of the temple, toting me without effort. I could see rather than hear Theo's mock exasperation. The wind began to pick up sending howls through the nearby trees. The closer we came to the top of the mountain the more sparse any type of scenery became. Large boulders decorated the distance, and only a few trees were splayed out ahead. Without having to use much effort to drag myself up the mountain, I had time to contemplate my surroundings. We left the coverage of the forested area and headed out into the vast wide open cliff side that held the temple.

I tried multiple times to reason with the ideology of erecting a temple so far up the mountain. There was no use in trying to count the supposed 7,000 steps, because in the back of my mind I was sure there were much more than just 7,000. My mind, however, was known to over exaggerate. Especially when manual labor was involved. I wasn't completely to blame though. Being locked in a single prison cell for most of one's life can lead to a more complacent life style with underdeveloped muscle structure. The last few months had been more exercise than my whole two years of evading the Templars in Cyrodiil. I wasn't fighting dragon's then either, so that contributed quite a bit. I most certainly felt stronger than I had been before, but with great exertion and effort.

Gareth noticed my Dilemma as Krahmer hastened his pace to keep up. His eyes widened a bit before before I waved my hand in dismissal.

"I'm fine, just a bit cold." I smiled toward Gareth. His expression went grim and his attention immediately found my legs which hung limp from Krahmer's arms.

"We are almost there, we should probably hasten our pace a bit. We can rest once we reach the temple, provided they allow our entry." Gareth paused before stepping in front of Krahmer. With a gesture of outreached arms he continued.

"Pardon me if this seems rude, but you seem a bit winded. I can finish carrying her to the temple." For a moment I was almost insulted. Sure I had gained a few pounds since Gareth and I had met, but it was healthy weight. My eating habits had improved with Gareth around, and I had even reminded myself to keep up my routine while we were apart. It wasn't until I glanced up to see Krahmer's previously rosy cheeks that were now pale and the thin line of sweat that was forming on his brow, that I realized something was indeed wrong.

My first instinct was to hop down and unburden the poor man, but I couldn't even feel my legs to move them enough to wriggle free.

"It's no problem I can assure you." Gareth gestured once more. Krahmer didn't seem as if the assumption had wounded his pride at all. Most men would have put on a tough face and pushed through, but I had the eerie feeling that Krahmer was feeling a bit under the weather, it wasn't just my weight that was causing him to over exert himself.

Gareth clutched me to his chest as we pushed forward. Krahmer fell behind a bit, but I caught a glimpse of Theo slowing his pace a bit to match the older man's. Gareth kept his eyes straight ahead as he took each weighted step. I couldn't imagine the strength it must have taken to tote such heavy armor a day at a time, and sometimes more. My mind went back to when Gareth and I had just met. He had gotten carried away with drinking at the Bannered Mare in Whiterun when a guard had gifted him with a few mugs of Mead. I had attempted to help him take his armor off in fear that he would lose his balance and do more damage than good. I could feel my cold cheeks start to heat up at the memory of how close we had gotten that night. In Gareth's drunken state he had attempted to assert his chivalry by making me sleep in the bed while he slept on the floor, and had picked me up in a manner so like the one he held me in now. One faulty step had placed us in an awkward mess among the furs on the bed.

I shook my head slightly to clear my mind of such thoughts. My movement caused Gareth's eyes to catch my own. Lines formed at the corners of his eyes as a slightly worried expression sprawled into a squint.

"Are you sure you are alright? I can walk faster." Gareth asked.

"I promise I'm fine. I was just…" I paused for a second wondering how to word such intimate memories.

"Remembering some things from when we first met." Gareth's expression didn't change.

"What kind of things?" As soon as the question left his lips I mentally kicked myself for not fibbing to him. My mind did however race in another area to come up with a reasonable subject to discuss. One that was a bit less lude than what I had allowed my mind to previously arrive at.

"Oh, just how warm it used to be. It seems I'm not cut out for cold weather. I thought the time I spent in Winterhold would at least harden me a bit, but I don't think it worked." Gareth chuckled and his expression relaxed, along with my own inner conscience as he accepted my quick reply.

"Well, we did spend a lot of time in Whiterun Hold, and small regions of Falkreath. It stays warmer in those areas almost all year around." I smiled slightly at his quip.

"You may have spent time farther up North, and it's no doubt cold up there, but we are on the highest mountain in Tamriel. The cold is much harsher up here because of the wind." I nodded at his explanation and sighed.

"I still think I'm just a wimp when it comes to the cold." Gareth shook his head.

"I wouldn't sell yourself short. We can all feel the effects of the cold. The difference is that you are wearing a robe. You have less coverage than the rest of us." I nodded once again, realizing my ignorance of the situation. What it boiled down to was that I should have come better prepared, but Gareth wouldn't say it.

Gareth

The Greybeards. Four elder's that occupied the Temple, and one other member occupied the very peak of the mountain, otherwise known as The Throat of the World. The Greybeards were Hermits who kept up the temple's appearance and spent their lives studying and meditating on something known as The Way of the Voice. From my understanding of Arngeir's long winded explanation, He and the other members of High Hrothgar follow in the footsteps of a man who was known as Jurgen Wind-Caller. Jurgen built the temple atop Kynareth's Sacred Mountain in hopes that he could meditate and understand the true uses of the Dragon Language. He felt that men were misusing the power of the dragon tongue, and using their Thu'ums to dominate and conquer other civilizations. This was a misuse of power in the same way that dragon's had used their own voices to enslave the mortal races. The God Akatosh, crown deity of the nine, had blessed certain mortals with dragonblood. Kynareth, mother of all creation, had given those mortals their voice or Thu'um. Early men were given these gifts because the God's felt pity on them after the Dragon's enslaved them and reigned over them with chaos. It was a way for mortals to rebel, and fight back against their unjust and bloodthirsty rulers. Arngeir went on to later explain that using the voice for anything other than what the God's had intended it for was blaspheme. Jurgen Wind-Caller had devised a path of discipline and study for many generations to follow and keep on the pure path the Voice was intended to be used on.

Mahrig questioned Arngeir about her destiny, and what it meant to be Dragonborn. Arngeir speculated that with the return of the Dragons she would soon find what she was looking for. He explained that there would be no answer that he could give her that would be completely correct.

"I only know that the Dragonblood was given to you for a reason child. It is up to you to decide how to use it. Your voice is strong as you have demonstrated, and you learn new words like a master. It's almost hard to believe that the Dragonborn graces us with her presence." Mahrig smiled slightly at Arngeir. I could see a light in her eyes that I had not seen before. Four new words in one day was definitely a record for her. The Greybeards taught her the second word to the Unrelenting force shout, Ro, and all three words to a completely new shout called Whirlwind Sprint. The exchange of knowledge between Mahrig and the Greybeards could be seen in a rush of orange and white energy that resembled the transfer between Mahrig and a fallen dragon.

Whirlwind Sprint was a truly astonishing feat. Having the ability to sprint a great distance away in an instant was almost incomprehensible to my mind. I knew of teleportation, but this was much different. I could see Mahrig become a blur as she sped toward her destination arriving as if she was simply coming to a halt from a slow jog. Her voice carried so much power I could feel the atmosphere change the instant she shouted. It was as if time stood still for a portion of a second as her power from the God's was released into this realm. The bright light in her eyes was not as fearsome as it had been when she had absorbed the knowledge from fallen dragons. I did not think that the knowledge she gained from the Greybeards was lesser than that of a dragon, but the difference between the two was that the Greybeards were peaceful men, whereas dragons were ravenous beasts that lived to spread chaos.

I feared that in time Mahrig would see and feel the evil from the Dragon's she had slain. I mostly feared that it would change her. I wasn't sure how, but she was already stronger than she had been before, and her demeanor in battle was to be feared.

Mahrig

A week passed before we finished our visit to the temple and made our way back down to the small settlement of Ivarstead which occupied the bottom of the mountain and the only road leading to the 7,000 steps. Krahmer's health had dwindled further atop the mountain, but Arngeir had given him a regiment that seemed to help and put him on bedrest in Wind-Caller tower. Arngeir explained that some people were weaker further away from the surface, and that the air proved harder for them to breathe. Krahmer's age only added to the condition. The reason the Greybeards were not affected was because they had spent most of their lives at the temple, beginning at a young age. They grew used to it over time.

Reaching Ivarstead certainly aided in returning color to Krahmer's features. His health had begun to return to normal before we left, but he was no doubt feeling much better now. I could even see the sly hint of a smile as he watched some of the village children race home before sunset. I didn't know the man very well, but he seemed as if he was a good person. I certainly had no wishes of ill will against him and could only hope he would recover completely.

I offered a small pouch of gold to Theo, knowing well his intentions for the inn. Theo liked a nice hot meal, he was quiet the glutton, and a bed with furs as thick as the animals they were harvested from. I however, sought nothing more than a nice warm bedroll beside the river that cascaded into rapid miniature falls. Seeing as Theo was the Druid, one would assume him to have a natural pull toward nature. I knew of his struggles to be normal though. Yes, he did have his weakness for nature, but more than anything he just wanted to fit in and have some kind of life that resembled those around him. He sought companionship more than I could ever comprehend. I knew of his fears of being alone. In a less philosophical way, he had abandonment issues because of his father leaving him at such a young age. We had discussed the matter briefly once, but I had learned so much about him in those few moments. I could understand the feeling of wanting to live a free life the way you choose. In a way his druid side was a prison, constantly hindering him to his set of skills that was, for the lack of a better term, "imprinted" in his blood from birth. He would always feel nature, no matter how hard he tried to shut it out.

Gareth helped me set up camp which consisted of two bed rolls and a small campfire. Krahmer had decided to join Theo in the inn, and I had no complaints. Spending time alone with Gareth reminded me of how it used to be before things become hectic. Gareth shared no complaints either it would have seemed. He seemed more tired than usual. His movements were a bit more sluggish than they had been before our departure back down the 7,000 steps, but that was only to be expected.

We finished setting up camp, including a fire shortly after sunset. It was just Gareth and I except for the few guards that lit the road with their torches in passing. A few times I could have sworn I heard someone speaking across the river, sometimes it even sounded as if there were shouts, but then there was just silence. The only thing at the other side of the river was an old rundown abandoned house that no one seemed to want to speak about. I had questioned a few people before making our trip to high hrothgar, but they had all been less than forthcoming. It was a rather warm night considering the winter months were nearly at hand. The stars shone bright above the dim lit town of Ivarstead. If I hadn't known better, I would have mistaken us to be in the middle of nowhere. Its funny how I seemed to get lost in my surroundings when it was just me and Gareth. I held a special place for the man that had saved my life almost 4 months prior. Time seemed as if it had started flying by, when only recently it had consumed all of my patience to get through each day. Time had been slow, and maybe I had a hint about what had changed my outlook towards each day. He was sitting right next to me as I poured his bowl full of beef stew. He nodded his head in thanks without even uttering a word.

I hadn't touched my mother's journal in a while. As I sat eating my own bowl of stew, I was ironically stewing in my own thoughts about it. I knew the journal was within grasp, but for some reason a part of me begged not to pick it up. I wanted to know more about my past, but sometimes things were better left unknown as Theo had pointed out to me numerous times before when I had shared with him my curiosities. I sat my half eaten bowl of stew to the side, and reached for my bag. I slipped my hand inside to find the cool leather cover of the journal instantly. I slowly pulled it out, and set it infront of me, afterwards picking my bowl back up to continue eating. Gareth didn't give me the puzzled look that so many others would have. He knew that I struggled with the knowledge that lay within its pages. He too was curious about my past, but I knew he would never question me about my hesitations.

I finished my soup shortly after Gareth finished his second bowl. It was no surprise that Gareth's appetite had increased after our journey back down the mountain. Descending the mountain had taken a shorter amount of time than our journey up it. The absence of a snow storm certainly aided us this go around. We hadn't needed to stop and make shelter and simply pushed on, enduring the temptation to rest. I could positively say we were all rather spent. Retrieving the Horn of Jurgen Wind-Caller would take us back up North into the Frozen Marshes near Morthal. We would certainly need our strength to return and plenty of rest over the next couple of days.

"What's the plan Mahrig?" Gareth's voice cut through my own inner voice as I searched through my thoughts for something that was more entertaining than the thought of reading my mother's journal. I was putting the journal off as I had put the trip off to High Hrothgar before, and I knew it.

"Plenty of rest I suppose." Gareth chuckled as I replied.

"That's a given. What I meant was, where do we go from Ivarstead?" Gareth cocked his brow in a way that I found absolutely adorable each time.

"Isn't it obvious? We head to Morthal." Gareth nodded slowly and sat down his empty bowl.

"I see you want to face this head on. Not that I doubted you, but I thought you would at least need some time to… deal with things. There is no need to rush all of this." Gareth returned his gaze to me as he spoke.

"You know, at one point I would have taken those words as refuge, and used them as an excuse to evade all of my problems. I think it's time I start acting like an adult, and run head first into the mix." Gareth's eyes widened a bit as I spoke.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insinuate that-" I cut him off before he could continue.

"You didn't offend me in any way, so there is no need to apologize. I was simply voicing my determination. In a way I'm still terrified. Getting those words out in the open helps my resolve a bit more." I grabbed Gareth's bowl and placed it inside my own, standing up.

"Care to join me at the river?" Gareth quickly stood as an answer to my question grabbing a stick from the fire that would serve as a torch for the short distance.

I quickly washed the bowls in the cold water as Gareth towered over me providing a useful source of light, and watching for any slaughterfish that sought a quick snack of fingers. I started back toward the camp, but something had caught Gareth's attention from across the river. I turned my attention toward the general direction he cast his gaze in. In the distance I could make out the faint structure of the abandoned house.

"What's wrong?" I asked quickly. Gareth's eyes seemed to squint as he focused his vision on the area.

"Something isn't right. I'm not sure how to explain it other than a feeling of absence in the location." I became confused as he spoke, wondering what he meant in absence. The place had been abandoned as far as I could tell. I raced through my memories only to recall the sounds I had previously heard, but brushed off as small animals within the bushes.

"I thought the house was abandoned, why would anyone be in a rundown house like that?" I asked, but before Gareth gave me any sort of answer he stepped into the river and pushed forward against the side swiping current. I followed of course. The current was strong, and the water was frigid, but I pushed forward. The other side of the bank was nearing as I saw Gareth recede from the water. He held the makeshift torch out in front of him as he krept near the house. My path was dimming the farther he moved away. I didn't want to seem helpless, but a bit of panic had creeped into my mind as I blindly pushed forward in the current. Gareth had not noticed me following him.

I finally made my way to the bank. My teeth were chattering even though the water never rose above my waist. My lower body was soaked and the warm breeze helped to dampen the chill that had started to set in. The light from Gareth's torch could be seen around the corner on the far side of the house. I slowly made my way toward him, trying not to stumble and make a scene in the process. I rounded the corner to find Gareth leaning over something. The closer I got the clearer the shape became. It was a body, a body of a man. I slowly peered over Gareth's shoulder, not wanting to disturb his observations. I closed my eyes quickly to try and erase the sight I had witnessed. It was to no avail as images of the man's neck washed through my mind. A deep seething wound, still fresh, and presumably warm to the touch. I mentally and physically shook at the discovery.

In the middle of the Man's torso was a blood soaked piece of parchment held only by a dagger that had been driven through the rough surface of the paper, along with the flesh of the deceased. I watched painfully as Gareth slowly removed the dagger, and raised the parchment to better see in the torchlight.

"The dark Brotherhood…" Gareth's whisper was hardly audible, but the blood soaked parchment spoke volumes on what he had murmured. A bloody handprint was visible in the light, with a small bold scripted text below.

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