Chapter 10

The Greybeards

The two of them entered the monastery. It was just as tall and grey inside as it was outside. While impressive in size, it was rather dull inside. There were very few decorative items and not a lot of real home comforts. It was clearly a place of worship for those who cared not for worldly luxuries.

As they stepped into the foyer, four old men in grey cloaks approached them. It was difficult to discern any sort of difference between them, as they each had long, grey beards, wrinkles and serious looks on their faces.

The one with a knot in his beard stepped forward and spoke directly to Rona, "So…a Dragonborn appears at this moment in the turning of the age. Tell me, what is your name?"

Rona wasn't sure how formal she should be, but put on her most modest voice, "My name is Rona Lightfoot and this is my companion Bishop – oh!" Karnwyr nuzzled her hand, "and this is our wolf Karnwyr, I promise he won't be any trouble."

The Greybeard looked over the wolf and then to Bishop who was casually leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, looking disdainfully at the old men, "I trust he will be no trouble as well?"

Rona glanced back at Bishop and gave him a, behave yourself, sort of look to which he narrowed his eyes at.

"He'll be no trouble at all, I promise you."

"Good, good," the man said, then put his hands together and bowed, "I am Master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards," he held a hand out to the others, "And these are Masters Borri, Einarth, and Wulfgar. Now, tell me, Dragonborn, why have you come here?"

Rona thought for a moment. Why had she come here? It was initially because it seemed the thing to do, because Balgruuf and the others told her she should. But now that she really thought about it, she wasn't sure. She'd found out she was Dragonborn and just accepted it, as though it were a fate or destiny she couldn't change. She needed to know more though. She needed to know what it was all for.

"I want to find out what it means to be Dragonborn," she finally said.

Arngeir nodded, "We are here to guide you in that pursuit, just as the Greybeards have sought to guide those of the Dragon Blood that came before you."

"I saw them," she said.

"Yes, we heard the songs of old as you entered this sacred place. Tell me Lady Rona, what did you see as you climbed to the summit?"

"Hundreds of Dragonborn...my predecessors…I think."

"Yes, but have you seen any one in particular, one whom you connect the most with?"

"Jillian," she answered promptly.

Arngeir nodded, "Do you understand why your connection with her is stronger than the others?"

Rona shook her head.

"Being blessed as Dragonborn is a great honor, one that is bestowed upon mortals by Akatosh. While most Dragonborn are male, the first female Dragonborn was quite extraordinary. It is said that her soul was wove by Akatosh himself and that he created the most beautiful thu'um for her. It was a voice which could never express itself through the body of a dragon, so he blessed a mortal girl with this soul instead. History gives her many names, though she is most well known as Eira the White. You see, Eira's voice was more elegant than any bard's and she composed her songs with her thu'um and made them as powerful as the shouts themselves. It is only from her lineage that female Dragonborn are born and because of this they remain deeply connected to one another, passing on their knowledge of songs through one woman to the next. Jillian was the last woman of Dragon Blood before you, so naturally you would feel her connection more closely."

Bishop stepped in and argued, "But we saw Khajiit and Argonian women out there."

"Yes, even those who are of mixed blood like your friend here still come from the same bloodline as Eira. The children always take on more of their mother's features of course," Arngeir turned back to Rona and said, "We will see if you truly have the gift though. Show us, Dragonborn. Let us taste of your voice."

Rona stared, confused.

"Go on," Arngeir urged her, "Do not be afraid. Your shout will not harm us."

She understood what he meant then and took a breath and cried, "FUS!"

The air ruptured and broke around them, throwing each of them backward slightly.

Arngeir sounded impressed, "Dragonborn. It is you. Welcome to High Hrothgar. I am sure you have many questions for us, however we wish to witness your power even further. Let us step into the courtyard for a moment."

They followed the four old men outside to an open courtyard covered in a light snow. A tall tower loomed high above ahead of them and beyond that was the peak of the mountain itself, surrounded by violent and swirling winds.

Three of the men knelt in a line at the edge of the steps leading into the courtyard. Arngeir, still standing looked back at Rona and held a hand out, directing her to stand before them. He spoke clearly, "Please, if you will Dragonborn, I would ask that you prostrate yourself before Kynareth, take a moment to absorb your surroundings. Many of your forebears have stood in this very place to study the Way of the Voice. Listen to them and express what you see, hear and feel for us."

Arngeir knelt down beside his companions as Rona tread down the steps and into the center of the courtyard.

Bishop hung back with Karnwyr, watching her with intent curiosity. Rona did not kneel, she'd never worshipped the Gods before and she was not about to start here. Instead she stood and closed her eyes, listening to the faint voices around her. The strongest came from the women and softer still some of the men. Their whispers were not to her but to themselves. All around her she heard the voices of Dragonborn of old expressing their excitement, their fears, their delight, their anger and frustration, but most of all she heard them questioning their purpose. She too questioned her purpose, more than anything.

Then she felt a hand grasp her shoulder and when she opened her eyes she saw Jillian standing beside her, not a spirit or a ghost in any sense of the word, but a full blooded person. She gave Rona a gentle smile, as if to say that everything would be okay.

Rona breathed deeply as the desperate sawing of strings, a violin, echoed from all around them and then the beat of the drums pounding in her chest became real. Jillian sang first and Rona joined in with her, their voices reverberating across the mountaintop and spilling over into the lands below.

(The song is Paradise, What About Us? by Within Temptation)

It was so empowering to sing with Jillian. Images of the past fluttered around them. They were scenes from the past of the other Dragonborn struggling to overcome great hardships, but it also showed the incredible feats of their accomplishments as their shouts broke the sky. It was incredible. Rona felt more powerful than she'd ever felt in her life. Her confidence soared and she sang even louder, crying out to match Jillian's classical voice.

But as their song ended the images and Jillian's spirit dispersed leaving them in chilling silence. The Greybeards were awestruck, it seemed, as none uttered a word. It was Bishop who broke the silence, as he came forward and awkwardly chuckled at the sight of the old men, "You're...are you seriously crying?"

The Greybeards stood up, holding their hands together so that their sleeves cascaded jointly. Arngeir wiped at his tears and simply said, "If you truly understood what you'd just seen here today you too would cry tears of joy young man."

Bishop scoffed, "I've seen plenty of ghosts to last me a lifetime already old man."

Arngeir did not scowl or growl at him, though he maintained a tone of voice that expressed his displeasure, "Ghosts of the past, yes perhaps, but it was more than that. The Lady Rona has not only given us a glimpse through time itself but sung directly with her predecessor Jillian, nary a ghost, but a solid form of a person it seems," he directed his attention back to Rona, "Dragonborn, you show great promise. Let us begin your training immediately."

The training was surprisingly easy. Rona thought it would be so much more difficult and wondered how so many before her had struggled with it. The words simply embedded themselves into her mind and the knowledge drenched her soul. She was able to shout FUS! RO! DAH! with such ease that even Arngeir seemed surprised.

"Your quick mastery of a new Thu'um is...astonishing. I'd heard the stories of the abilities of Dragonborn but to see it for myself..."

She could barely stop herself from asking him, "Is it always this easy?"

She regretted it immediately as she noticed his distaste. His mouth twitched, "No. Indeed it is not. But beware that your skill does not outstrip your wisdom."

Rona apologized, bowing her head, "I'm sorry Master Arngeir, I didn't mean to offend, truly. It's just, I honestly expected this to be so much more difficult. After watching...after feeling how the other Dragonborn struggled so much, it lead me to believe that I too would struggle."

He sighed, "Ah, no need to apologize child. It is I who should apologize, as I should not have taken that tone with you. It is only natural for you to pick up the words this quickly, it's in your blood after all. You learn a new word like a master, but learning a Word of Power is only the first step. You must unlock its meaning through constant practice in order to use it in a shout...well, that is how the rest of us learn shouts. As Dragonborn, you can absorb a slain dragon's life force and knowledge directly."

"I see...so I must slay dragons to become stronger?"

Arngeir nodded once slowly, pressing his hands together under his sleeves, "Yes. Though that is not the only way of course. If you are willing to train with us here you can learn all we know. It is a slower method, but certainly safer..."

Bishop was standing aside, his arms crossed, listening to them when he said, "Do it. Stay and learn all they can teach you."

Rona looked at him. He always pretended not to care, but his actions gave him away so easily. If she stayed here, up in High Hrothgar she would be safe from dragons. She wouldn't have to fight. She decided to challenge him on this, though she'd wait until they were in private.

She said, "I'll think on it."

"Well," Arngeir interjected, "while you mull things over I would like you to take the rest of the day to meditate on these Words of Power and to practice them."

Bishop frowned at him, "It's getting pretty late, when do you serve dinner around here? We've been through hell getting up here and we're starving."

Arngeir looked at him surprised, "Ah, yes, well you are free to rummage through our stores and take what you like, though we do not have much."

"You don't cook?"

"We cook very little," Arngeir replied, "We prefer to eat small meals throughout the day, keeping sustenance only as needed and therefore balance with Kyne."

Bishop grumbled along with his stomach, "Well we'd like to eat more than a bird's share."

Arngeir said, "We Greybeards have our ways, though you're free to do as you like so long as you maintain a sense of peacefulness within these walls."

Rona gave Arngeir a cheerful smile, as she often did when she intended to sway someone's opinion, "Please dine with us Master Arngeir, all of you. Bishop is a great cook. He makes the best meals I've ever had."

She noticed Bishop smirking slightly at her compliment.

Arngeir hesitated but Einarth or Bolli (Rona could hardly tell them apart) whispered something in his ear to which Arngeir nodded back and said, "Hmm, well I suppose...this is a momentous occasion for us. It seems reason enough to celebrate the return of a Dragonborn to High Hrothgar. We shall take you up on your offer then."

Because the Greybeards did not have any kind of kitchen to speak of, and their only hearth was centered in the middle of a table Bishop had to create his own makeshift kitchen of sorts. He and Rona ran around the monastery first collecting loose stones which they could make a hearth from. They set lined them up and positioned them against a wall in an empty hall near the dining room. Then they gathered firewood from the small pile the Greybeards had sectioned off in a corridor and placed several logs into the hearth, nearly tripping over Karnwyr several times as he ran back and forth with them, acting like a playful puppy the entire time.

As Bishop put together the metal grate and hook to hang a cooking pot onto from their camping supplies Rona went about collecting tables, dishes and utensils Bishop could use to prepare their food with.

They actually managed to put together a mediocre kitchen to work from. The two of them looked over their work admiring it and Bishop, with his fists on his hips said, "Yeah, I can work with this," though he immediately turned to Rona and pointed a finger at her, "Don't volunteer me for anything like that ever again, I don't care how many compliments you lace your words with. I'm not an idiot."She raised her brows at him and he said, "Don't give me that look. You knew exactly what you were doing."

She cocked her head and said, "You mean like how you insisted I stay and train in the monastery so I wouldn't have to fight dragons?"

He dropped his finger and turned away to crouch over the hearth and attempted to light it with a piece of stone on flint, mumbling, "It's just smarter, learn everything you can from them before you have to leave, right?"

She walked over and snapped her fingers, lighting the wood instantly, "Don't pretend you don't care. I'm not an idiot." Then she turned and walked away before he could reply.

Rona stood outside on the edge of a cliff overlooking Whiterun. The view was stunning. As the sun set in the west the lightly clouded sky had become a blend of reds, yellows and oranges. She shouted out repeatedly, "FUS! RO! DAH!" and watched as her voice rumbled through the sky and over the horizon.

There was a moment when Wulfgar, or perhaps it was Bolli, came to her side and watched as she shouted. When she'd finished she looked over at him, mystified. She said politely, "Urm... was that alright Master?"

He nodded slowly and whispered a rumbling, "Dovahkiin," before walking away. Her eardrums felt sore from the sound. She looked after him, perplexed and saw Arngeir walk by. He came to check in on her progress and she asked, "Master Bolli," she took a guess, "He just spoke to me, I think, but I didn't catch what he said."

"Hm?" Arngeir looked over at the departing Greybeard, "Ah, that is Master Wulfgar. And he shouldn't have said anything to you, it is dangerous for your ears. You see the other Masters, well, their voices are too powerful for anyone not trained in the Way to withstand. Even a whisper could kill you. Is your hearing alright?"

"I thought my eardrums would burst...but I'm alright."

"I will talk to him about it. Until you have trained more it would be safer not to expose you to the power of our thu'um. Carry on then," he said leaving her.

She spent a good two hours outside before the cold winds nipped too harshly at her face and, shivering, she retreated into the warmth of the monastery. Rona nearly crashed into Bishop who'd come looking for her, "Oh, there you are. Supper is served, Highness." His words dripped heavily with sarcasm as he gestured in servile fashion towards the dining room.

She ignored his obvious attempt at provoking her and joined the Greybeards at their oversized round table with the hearth in the center. She took a seat across from Arngeir, and admired the incredible spread Bishop had managed to put together for them.

There was of course bread, mead, wine and cheeses, but there was also a large plate of cooked beef, an entire pot of cabbage potato stew, a half dozen baked potatoes, and a platter of fresh fruits and a few deserts.

Rona looked over at Bishop who'd pulled up a chair beside her and practically shouted with enthusiasm, "This looks amazing! You made all of this?"

Bishop looked rather pleased with himself, no matter how he tried to hide it and said, "Of course! A feast fit for a king! Or in this case the Dragonborn. Dig in!"

Everyone filled their plates and tucked into their meals. Even the Greybeards were incredibly impressed and though three of them hardly said a word, a few times the room shook from their groans of pure bliss. Arngeir had a broad smile as he said, "Splendid Sir Bishop. I must say I am absolutely impressed with your skills."

Bishop laughed, "Sir? Please, drop the formalities Arngeir. I am not a noble by any stretch of the imagination."

Arngeir chuckled back and said, "Watch your tongue young man, that's Master Arngeir to you. I did not train in the Way of the Voice for a third of my life only to be called on so informally. I'll let it go this once since you're such an extraordinary chef. Tell me, does cooking come as naturally to you as the thu'um to the Dragonborn?"

Bishop said, "Hah, hardly. This took years of hard work and practice. I probably read the Uncommon Taste cover to cover at least twenty times before I got the hang of it."

Rona scoffed, smiling and said, "Hey! Quit having a jab at me, there's plenty of things I spent years studying before I got the hang of it."

Arngeir clasped his fingers together and looked over at her, "Ah yes, Lady Rona, we'd certainly love to hear about your history. Tell me, are you from Skyrim? You are nordic, obviously, though I can't place the other part of your lineage, bosmer perhaps?"

Before she could get a word in edge-wise Bishop said, "Well that's a first. Everyone just assumes she's just some elf and dismisses her right off the bat. You should see the look on these nords faces when they find out she's Dragonborn."

"Sadly it is a common misconception that the Dragonborn must be a full blooded nord. This belief most certainly stems from The Dragon of the North, Ysmir. Most nords hear tales of him as Dragonborn and rarely, if ever, hear more of the old tales about all of the other foreign and mixed blood Dragonborn. But the fact remains that anyone can be Dragonborn so long as Akatosh sees fit to grant one with such power. And of course you would be part nord," he nodded to Rona, "you do come from Eira's bloodline. What is your other half?"

"My ata, my father, he's full blooded Altmer," Rona said.

"Ah!" Arngeir's eyes lit up, "There are several quite notable Altmer Dragonborn and one other woman who was half altmer, half nordic such as yourself. Her name was Taanil Storm-Ire. There are few passages about her though, as much of it was lost to the pages of history..."

Arngeir told her story after story about the history of Dragonborn and she shared a few details about her own life, that she was from Cyrodiil, and she was a member of the Fighter's Guild in Cheydinhaal. She mentioned that her father was in fact the current Arch-Mage of the Arcane University to which Arngeir asked if it might be possible for him to acquire copies of several texts on Dragonborn lore and history which were highly guarded by mages and scholars of the Emperor's Court, she said she'd try writing him but made no promises.

As she went on telling him about her first encounter with the black dragon in Helgen Arngeir grew quiet and the other three Greybeards stared quite intently at her.

After such a long pause she said, "What? What is it?"

Einarth, or perhaps it was Wulfgar, whispered to Arngeir who was pulling at the end of his beard thoughtfully. Then he said, "Ah...it's nothing. I'm just sorry to hear you had such a difficult time getting here," as if purposely evading her prodding gaze Arngeir asked, "Were you able to finally meet with your mother then? After all of that?"

Rona looked down at her plate, she really hated talking about it. She tried to avoid thinking about her mother at all costs lest she feel a mix of emotions that she'd rather ignore. She kept it brief and said, "No, unfortunately she'd already passed long before I had a chance to meet with her."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said.

They were always sorry to hear it. This phrase was meaningless to her. It was just something people would say when they didn't know what else to say. Arngeir seemed to sense her discomfort on the subject and said, "Well, it has been a long day for you both," he and his companions stood up. "We thank you, Bishop, for providing us with great food, it was splendid."

Bishop gave a nod as he sipped at a bottle of mead and said, "Don't expect it again old man. I'm not your new chef. This was a onetime occasion and it was more for me than anyone else."

Arngeir raised his brows at Bishop's sudden coldness towards him, "Hmm, well we certainly don't care much for indulgence and of course we wouldn't expect that from you, you are one of our guests after all." Again he turned to Rona, decidedly ignoring Bishop's rude attitude and said, "As for your sleeping quarters, we only have one extra spare room and bed, specifically designated for the Dragonborn when he or she is to stay here at High Hrothgar. I'm afraid your, affable companion," he said with a derisive tone, "will have to make his own bed."

"Fine by me," Bishop said getting up, "I've got a bedroll and it suits me just fine."

Arngeir showed them to the room and as Bishop laid out his bedroll next to the stone carved bed he looked between the both of them, "I trust that you two will treat our monastery with the utmost respect. Anything," he searched for the word, "amorous will not be tolerated inside these walls."

Rona felt her face burning and Bishop burst out laughing, "Oh you've done it now!"

"Me and - and him?" she sputtered.

Arngeir raised his brows, "I beg your pardon Dragonborn. I meant no offence of course. I just thought..."

Bishop smirked and said, "You thought that a devilishly handsome man like me must certainly be giving it to the lovely Dragonborn? Sadly, no."

She'd have thrown something, anything, at him if she'd had it in hand, instead she just glared at him, face burning hot with anger and embarrassment.

"Oh if looks could kill," Bishop chuckled, shaking his head.

"My apologies Lady Rona," Arngeir attempted to diffuse the situation, "I did not mean anything by it...Now, get a good night's rest as we have plenty more to teach you tomorrow."

Arngeir left them both in a hurry and Rona threw her bedroll onto the hard stone bed. Bishop rapped the side of it with his knuckles and said, "What's the point of having a bed made out of a rock when the floor is just as hard?"

"No idea." Rona kicked her boots off and crawled into her bedroll, turning away from him, still fuming.

"They always say you shouldn't go to bed angry Princess," Bishop teased. She persistently ignored him as he said, "Oh c'mon. You're really that mad at me?"

She sighed and rolled over, "Why do you have to be that way?"

"What way?"

"So rude to everyone!"

"Don't you ever get tired of walking around your words and trying to spare their feelings? No, I won't do that."

"I just don't understand it. One minute you seem to care and the next you push everyone around you away. "

Bishop got quiet as he lay there, running his fingers through Karnwyr's fur.

Rona took a breath, cooling off then said, "Thank you for tonight." He didn't reply. "I appreciate what you did, entertaining them and cooking and everything. It was very kind of you..."

He rolled over, away from her and murmured, "Don't waste your favors and kindness on anyone Ladyship. You'll just get your heart broken."