Skathi was torn by the sight of the Greybeards' monastery. It was decided that if anyone knew about a Shout that could bring down dragons, it was them. And if anyone was going to get close enough to even learn it, it was Skathi. On paper, a solid plan.
In practice, the prospect was making her uncomfortable. Of all places, in the wild and tame, this was where she felt the most at peace. So far from the complications and horrors of the world bellow. The mountains' chill never felt so warm up there. To bring their problems here almost felt blasphemous, but they had to be done.
As she entered the monastery, it felt colder than normal. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but the halls seemed to know what she had done and were judging her. Impossible, but her nervousness knew no sanity. The walls had eyes that pierced her skin to see her soul and find it lacking decency at least. They saw her mind and how broken it was, how it needed to be discarded for the betterment of Skyrim. Her mind truly had to be broken to believe this.
"You're late," Arngeir spoke up, frightening the Dragonborn in her own world. He continued, "but you're here and you've retrieved the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller.
Skathi almost forgot about that, but still had the horn. It would be unfortunate if she left behind somewhere, but she always kept it in her satchel. She fished it out and handed it over to the speaking monk.
"Well done. You have now passed all the trials," he proclaimed, "Come with me. It is time for us to recognize you fully as Dragonborn."
Skathi followed Arngeir to the foyer, where all the Greybeards were gathered, such as they were. She could not help but think now was when they yelled at her their disapproval. Not really, but everything horrible seemed likely when you are nervous.
"You are ready to learn the final word of Unrelenting Force, 'Dah,' which means 'Push'," Arngeir explained.
One of the monks stepped forward and said, "Dah," and the familiar sight of dragon's writ burned into the stone floor. Skathi stepped forward and absorbed the word into her. It felt like a lifetime since she had done this, but she was still able to embrace its power like she could not long ago.
"With all three words together, this Shout is much more powerful," Arngeir explained, "Use it wisely. Master Wulfgar will now gift you with his knowledge of 'Dah.'"
Once again, the familiar sensation of absorbing someone else's knowledge without slaying them was not done for what felt like years upon years, but it really could not have been more than a fortnight. An exhausting fortnight, but no longer than that. She still accepted it like it was yesterday.
"You have completed your training, Dragonborn. We would Speak to you. Stand between us and prepare yourself. Few can withstand the unbridled Voice of the Greybeards. But you are ready."
Skathi stood her ground as the monks unleashed their Voices upon her. It was loud and sundering, an unwelcoming sensation. Against this force, few could stand against it, and Skathi was tempted to followed, but not fall. Not out of her own strength, but because it would be inappropriate to faint. She kept herself up by focusing on the words they Shouted, for which she could now understand as clear as her first language.
"Long has the Storm Crown languished with no worthy brow to sit upon.
"By our breath we bestow it now to you in the name of Kyne, in the name of Shor, and in the name of Atmora of old.
"You are Ysmir now, the Dragon of the North. Hearken to it."
Skathi was barely stood by the time they finished, but still stood. She did not fully understand what they said, but she could discern somethings. 'Storm Crown' was familiar, the title Talos took before he called himself 'Tiber Septim'. She knew people said she was following in his footsteps, but she could not recall him ever being called 'the Dragon of the North.' She wondered what it meant.
"Dovahkiin. You have tasted the Voice of the Greybeards and passed through unscathed," Arngeir exclaimed, "High Hrothgar is open to you."
At this point, Skathi decided to take the speaking monk aside to talk. "I need to learn the Shout used to defeat Alduin," she asked.
He looked as though he had heard her cursed. "Where did you learn of that? Who have you been talking to?" he inquired.
"It was recorded on Alduin's Wall," she explained.
That was enough for him to decided who was to blame. "The Blades! Of course," he barked like a rapid dog, "They specialize in meddling in matters they barely understand. Their reckless arrogance knows no bounds. They have always sought to turn the Dragonborn from the path of wisdom. Have you learned nothing from us? Would you simply be a tool in the hands of the Blades, to be used for their own purposes?"
"The Blades are helping me. I'm not their puppet," Skathi growled. In truth, it did feel like she was being used, but at least she knew it was for the right cause. What had he had to say?
"No, no, of course not," Arngeir reluctantly reeled, "Forgive me, Dragonborn. I have been intemperate with you. But heed my warning: The Blades may say they serve the Dragonborn, but they do not. They never have."
At least he could be comforted by her attitude about that idea. "The minute I see their goals no longer serve me and Skyrim, I'll abandon them," she explained, "So, can you teach me this Shout?"
"No. I cannot teach it to you because I do not know it," he admitted without malice or pride for it, "It is called 'Dragonrend,' but its Words of Power are unknown to us. We do not regret this loss. Dragonrend holds no place within the Way of the Voice."
With such a forbidding statement, Skathi could only ask, "Why is Dragonrend so wretched?"
"It was created by those who had lived under the unimaginable cruelty of Alduin's Dragon Cult," he began to explain, "Their whole lives were consumed with hatred for dragons, and they poured all their anger and hatred into this Shout. When you learn a Shout, you take it into your very being. In a sense, you become the Shout. In order to learn and use this Shout, you will be taking this evil into yourself."
That dangerous prospect imprinted on her, but she still needed to ask and dare to learn it, at least for Skyrim. "But If the Shout is lost, how can I defeat Alduin?"
"Only Paarthurnax, the master of our order, can answer that question, if he so chooses," Arngeir stated.
Something about that name made an impression on her. "Who's Paarthurnax?" she asked.
"He is our leader. He surpasses us all in his mastery of the Way of the Voice," he answered.
"Why haven't I met Paarthurnax yet?" she asked again.
"He lives in seclusion on the very peak of the mountain," the speaking monk explained, "He speaks to us only rarely, and never to outsiders. Being allowed to see him is a great privilege."
Must have been a strong monk to survive being on mountain peak and not be blown off the top. "I need to speak to Paarthurnax, then," Skathi stated.
"You weren't ready. You still aren't ready," Arngeir sighed, "But thanks to the Blades, you now have questions that only Paarthurnax can answer."
He got up and ordered, "Come, we will teach you a Shout to open the way to Paarthurnax."
"Lok Vah Koor!"
Skathi gave the Shout the Greybeards taught her and the winds parted. The higher one climbed the mountain, the further you entered its eternal storm. As such, they taught her a useful trick to reaching the peak with her Voice. Whenever the way seemed too impassable, all she had to do was use those three words and she could go further up the trail.
Less impassable, but still annoying were the frost wraiths. They flocked to the mountainside like crows over a graveyard. Nevertheless, Skathi had some experience with them and could deflect them fine enough. What was less fine was the cold. She liked the cold as much as anyone Nord, but this was horrific. Her furs were thick, but the biting winds pierced it all the same.
Once she reached the mountain peak, she found nothing. A curved wall like the one she read her first word in Dragon tongue on, but not a soul else. No one was there. Skathi jumped to the thought that Paarthurnax had gotten enough of this world and flung himself off to spare himself. Morbid, but altogether likely if she could not find him.
She was resigned to her failure when a pale dragon flew 'round the peak. At the sight of it, Skathi drew her bow in battle ready. Before she could nock an arrow, the dragon landed in front of her. She pulled the string back to strike at less than ten feet away when it did not strike her.
"Drem Yol Lok. Greetings, wunduniik. I am Paarthurnax," he spoke, "Who are you? What brings you to my strunmah, my mountain?"
Skathi stood shocked at this. "I wasn't expecting you to be a dragon," she stammered.
"I am as my father Akatosh made me," Paarthurnax stated, "As are you, Dovahkiin."
Well, since introductions were unnecessary, this got far easier. "I need to learn the Dragonrend Shout," Skathi asked, "Can you teach me?"
"Drem. Patience," the master Greybeard insisted, "There are formalities which must be observed, at the first meeting of two of the dov."
The old dragon stood at is full height, a terrifying sight to behold. "By long tradition, the elder speaks first," he explained, "Hear my Thu'um! Feel it in your bones. Match it, if you are Dovahkiin!"
"Yol Toor Shul!"
Paarthurnax turned away from Skathi and unleashed a torrent of fire into the curved wall. It did not crack or crumble, but it did leave a word in the stone. When Skathi approached it, it flew into her and showed her the ancient knowledge of a Shout like those before, but this was a far different element than what she had before. Before, she wielded the wind, but now she knew flame.
"A gift, Dovahkiin," Paarthurnax remarked, "Yol. Understand Fire as the dov do."
Ribbons like those the Greybeards exuded from the old dragon, but these were different. Skathi could not say with certainty what it was, but she would say it is. To her best ability, she felt it she was learning from a master. He had details and shorthand no simple tradesman would use. Even if it was an inaccurate description, it was still better than none.
"Now, show me what you can do," Paarthurnax commanded, "Greet me not as mortal, but as dovah!"
"Yol!"
Skathi Shouted and fire burst from out her mouth. It was a stranger sensation than her first Shout, but still not alien. It was not burning hot from her end, but a gentle warm. Perhaps that was just the cold numbing her to the point an inferno was hot spring water.
"Ah, yes!" Paarthurnax rejoiced as the flame bounced on his scales, "Sossedov los mul. The Dragonblood runs strong in you. It is long since I had the pleasure of speech with one of my own kind."
"Happy to help," Skathi warily replied. She did not know what this meant to the dragon but worried it might mean more than meeting someone who speaks your first language again.
Eventually, the old dragon settled down again. "So. You have made your way here, to me," he remarked, "No easy task for a joor, mortal. Even for one of Dovah Sos. Dragonblood." He warily asked, "What would you ask of me?"
"Can you teach me the Dragonrend Shout?" Skathi asked again. She worried it would turn him feral at the thought of someone learning how to bring him and his brethren down again.
And he fully returned to his disappointing reality. "Ah. I have expected you. Prodah," he remarked, "You would not come all this way for tinvaak with an old dovah. No. You seek your weapon against Alduin"
"The Greybeards didn't want me to come at all," the Dragonborn stated.
"Hmm. Yes. They are very protective of me," he smirked if Skathi had to guess, "Bahlaan fahdonne. But I do not know the Thu'um you seek."
He continued, "Krosis. It cannot be known to me. Your kind, joorre, mortals, created it as a weapon against the dov… the dragons. Our hadrimme, our minds cannot even," he paused, searching for the right words, "comprehend its concepts."
Another dead end. "How can I learn it, then?" she almost angrily asked.
"Drem. All in good time," Paarthurnax replied, "First, I have a question for you. Why do you want to learn this Thu'um?"
"I live in this world," she explained, "I don't want it to end."
He nodded. "Pruzah. As good a reason as any," he remarked, "There are many who feel as you do, although not all. Some would say that all things must end, so that the next can come to pass. Perhaps this world is simply the Egg of the next kalpa? Lein vokiin? Would you stop the next world from being born?"
"The next world will have to take care of itself," Skathi snapped. Even though she was reluctant to all this blood and death, it was better than letting this world die.
The old dragon nodded again. "Paaz. A fair answer," he remarked, "Ro fus. Maybe you only balance the forces that work to quicken the end of this world. Even we who ride the currents of Time cannot see past Time's end. Wuldsetiid los tahrodiis. Those who try to hasten the end, may delay it. Those who work to delay the end, may bring it closer."
Skathi had not thought of that but discarded it immediately. She had no use for pondering ancient riddle right now. Maybe later.
He continued, "But you have indulged my weakness for speech long enough. Krosis. Now I will answer your question. Do you know why I live here, at the peak of the Monahven, what you name Throat of the World?"
The Dragonborn shrugged. "This is the most sacred mountain in Skyrim. Zok revak strunmah," Paarthurnax explained, "The great mountain of the world. Here the ancient Tongues, the first mortal masters of the voice, brought Alduin to battle and defeated him."
"Using the Dragonrend Shout, right?" Skathi asked.
"Yes and no," he replied, "Viik nuz ni kron. Alduin was not truly defeated, either. If he was, you would not be here today, seeking to," he paused again for the right words, "defeat him. The Nords of those days used the Dragonrend Shout to cripple Alduin. But this was not enough. Ok mulaag unslaad. It was the Kel, the Elder Scroll. They used it to," he paused, "cast him adrift on the currents of Time."
Skathi was full of questions. "Are you saying the ancient Nords sent Alduin forward in time?" she asked.
"Not intentionally," he explained, "Some hoped he would be gone forever, forever lost. Meyye. I knew better. Tiid bo amativ. Time flows ever onward. One day he would surface. Which is why I have lived here. For thousands of mortal years, I have waited. I knew where he would emerge but not when."
"How does any of this help me?" Skathi asked.
"Tiid krent. Time was," he paused, "shattered here because of what the ancient Nords did to Alduin. If you brought that Kel, that Elder Scroll back here, to the Tiid-Ahraan, the Time-Wound. With the Elder Scroll that was used to break Time, you may be able to," he paused, "cast yourself back. To the other end of the break. You could learn Dragonrend from those who created it."
Now all Skathi had to be sure of was what an Elder Scroll was.
The seven-thousand steps were not an easy climb. Doing it twice in one day was exhausting. Skathi felt she was unwelcomed in the Greybeard's temple after associating with the Blades, so she went down to Ivarstead for the night. Perhaps if she had asked for a bed at the top of High Hrothgar, she would not be so worn.
To recuperate, she was cooling her feet in Lake Geir. In the chill water bellow, she found some relief. She was tempted to throw herself into the river whole, but she knew in the fresh Autumn weather, she would surely die of cold. She was still tempted.
Despite her decision to embrace being Dragonborn, she was far from happy with it. She had grown a contempt for travelling and she had to do a lot of it of late. But going from one end of the province to the other could be tolerable if it did not always have to end in violence. All she was doing was going from one end of Skyrim to the other and killing people. She was practically a traveling serial killer.
And there was nothing she was fighting for. She fought for everyone else, but not herself. As if you could fight for things that did not exist. She had no world of her own, no home to go back to. She did not want to go back to Falkreath, nor did she think she could. She killed and eaten the flesh of the jarl's steward, both acts of great stigma.
And it was not as if there was anything she wanted to go back there. She could not remember everything about her childhood, but she knew it was not a good one. Her parents were always working at Gray Pines Goods and she was always shooed away so they could work. Her sister was better company, but she was surely dead by now for being their only suspect in the steward's death. Skathi hoped it was not so, but it was most likely.
If only she had a home to go to. The warmth of a hearth she could call her own on a cold day. A rug for plant her worn feet while children played with a tempered dog. A blanket thrown on her shoulders by someone that loved her. None of it could be and she was only hurting herself by thinking such fantasies were possible. There was no hope for hearth and home for her.
There was nothing in this world that could even confirm that she could be happy. Everyone was only after themselves, cutthroat if pushed and liars to anyone who thought they could benefit from following them. On one side of Skyrim, an empire trying to grasp at their last embers of power, but not the long arms to keep it. On the other, an opportunistic warlord wished to gain fame and glory on other people's bodies to tell himself he was still a good person. And on all sides, fools that followed them, loyally or not.
But who was Skathi to judge? She was just a bad as them, maybe worse. She should have been out there, fighting dragons instead of laying around doing nothing. She wanted a house and home, but do not work for it, nor do anything for anyone. She did not deserve such an honor or responsibility as this. She was once again tempted to let Lake Geir decide her fate.
But no. No. She was not going to do that. Like many times before, her death wish would go ungranted. There was still much to do. She had to find an Elder Scroll, she had to learn Dragonrend, she had to slay Alduin. And then, and only then, could she die.
She pulled herself out of the lake and went to the inn for dinner and a bed.