Author's Note:

I accidently wrote that '…The new troops were able to chase off the red beast, forcing the rebels and their champion to retreat back across the bridge…' when there was no dragon attack during Chapter 2 RE. My bad…

Also mistranslated Krinvahzii as 'Courageous-Sky-Spirit' when it actually means 'Courageous-Spring-Spirit'. From now on it will be Courageous-Spring-Spirit. For Arthur was brave in spite of great odds and was reborn anew.

UPDATE: Did some editting to get rid of some typos spotted by G. S. tol Kriaal.


Becoming a Legend


As I scorched the palisades and encampments, I couldn't help but hear the words of a song filtering up from both forts.

"Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahrin, wah dien vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!

Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan.

Dovahkiin fah hin kogaan mu draal!"


*[Dragon speech/shouts – "Dovahkiin!"]

Chapter 5 RE - Of the scourge that has sullied our hopes and our dreams…


Arturia cursed as her men took cover from the torrents of flame that scorched the palisade walls. Archers and mages fired uselessly at the white dragon circling above. From her perch she could see the Stromcloaks were taking a greater beating then her men were; likely because the Dragonborn was on that side of the gorge.

"Hold your fire! Get the wounded to safety and only attack if that dragon gets too close!"

Her order was swiftly followed and the dragon had all but ceased its attacks on her fort, focusing entirely on the Stormcloak encampment. She directed her troops into the tunnels they had carved into the mountain, all for the specific purpose of weathering a dragon attack. As she guided the last man in, she watched as the dragon loosed a massive fireball at the enemy stronghold.


Stormcloak Encampment

"Yol-Toor-Shuuuul!"

Tier ducked behind a rocky outcropping as another torrent of flame was loosed on the fort. All around the men were peppering the white dragon with arrows, none of them even penetrating the beast's hide. It was typical of every clash she had with the dragons. She had to get it to land to do any real damage to it. The hide was too thick otherwise!

"Conserve your arrows and take cover!"

Most had followed her orders while the idiotic glory seekers were flash fried by the white dragon's flames. Thinking quickly, Tier hauled herself onto the fort's roof and ducked behind some rubble. She watched as the dragon readied for another swooping pass and broke out into a run as it descended. She flung herself onto its back, grasping at the small spikes along the spine.

"Dovahkiin! Climbing astride the back of a dovah !? Hio kos boziik fah aan joor!"

Tier tried to unsheathe her sword but the dragon flew wildly, trying to dislodge her from his back. It carried her southwest, high above the Druadach Mountains and swooped northeast, back through the Karth River Gorge at neck breaking speeds. She could barely hold onto the scales (and her stomach) when it suddenly rolled midair and tossed her off into the marshes east of Solitude.

Sputtering out the murky water, Tier crawled onto a small patch of land. She collapsed onto the swampy ground, too worn out to get up. She could feel the aches in her muscles and the broken bones. A few ribs, her left leg and sword arm. She was ready to pass out when the ground shook with a thundering quake. The dragon had landed and Tier could feel its hot breath on her back. Tilting her head up, she gazed at it.

The dovah was pale white like a Frost, but had the structure of an Ancient. Dazedly, Tier hauled herself to her knees. She wouldn't die with her face in the dirt.

"Amm, Dovahkiin, already you falter? Alok boziiksegein…"

The damn beast was gloating. Anger fueling her movements, Tier staggered to her feet despite her leg's protests. She glared balefully at the dragon as she leaned against dying tree and shouted with all her might.

"YOOOOLL!"

A blast of flames struck the dragon in the face, barely scorching its hide. She collapsed back against the dead bark, the world spinning around her.

"Ah, so you do have some manners, Dovahkiin. I have felt your Thu'um; now feel mine!"

A small (for a dragon) blast of flame smashed into Tier and tossed her into the marsh waters. She flailed uselessly, her vision was fading. She passed out just as a set of massive jaws fished her out of the swamp.


Two days later…

Tier sat up, gasping heavily. Gazing about her, she found herself in a temple of sorts. Wobbling slightly, she got up and dressed in some robes near the stone bed. The robes themselves were strangely familiar: dark blue, archaic in appearance and very warm.

She hobbled out off the living area and came out into a hall with many pots and candles. She eventually came to a stop in the middle of the room when she realized where she was.

High Hrothgar…

"You are awake, Dragonborn. It has been two days since you were brought here, unconscious and on the edge of death."

Whirling around, Tier spotted the speaker as the descended from the steps behind her.

"Arngeir, how did I get here?"

The only speaking Greybeard guided her back into the living area and sat her down at a stone table. He handed her a plate of bread and fruit, beckoning her to eat.

"You were brought here by an ally of sorts. It is lucky he was the one to find you. In your current state, you would have perished if not for his timely assistance."

Tier chewed thoughtfully on an apple, trying to remember what had happened. Her last memory was of the white dragon in the marsh. Arngeir left her to her thoughts and returned to his meditations. She had to recover her strength for the trials to come.


Falkreath-Whiterun Border, Imperial Legion

It had been two days since the dragon attack and the Dragonborn's disappearance. The Legion had made a push east and managed to reclaim the western plains of Whiterun and the entirety of Falkreath Hold.

Hadvar was currently scouting the area around Helgen while Arturia was setting up a defensive position just south of Riverwood.

"Oh, there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red,

Who came riding to Whiterun from old Rorikstead.

And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade,

As he told of bold battles and gold he had made."

Spirits were high, Hadvar noted. With the Dragonborn missing in action and the Legion regaining ground eastward, the men couldn't have been more pleased. Ragnar's capture and subsequent execution only helped matters more. With a bounce in his step Hadvar joined his men in their merrymaking.

"But then he went quiet, did Ragnar the Red
When he met the shield-maiden Matilda, who said;

"Oh, you talk and you lie and you drink all our mead
Now I think it's high time that you lie down and bleed!"

And so then came clashing and slashing of steel
As the brave lass Matilda charged in, full of zeal

And the braggart named Ragnar was boastful no more-
When his ugly red head rolled around on the floor!"

Arturia glanced southward as faint tones of happy voices filtered up down the mountain. She shook her head with an amused chuckle when she recognized the verses of 'Ragnar the Red'.

"Captain, today's report."

Turning back to the present, Arturia spotted one of her men, er women, Sofia walking towards her. The Breton woman handed her a report on the situation in Riverwood. The town had a very split opinion on the Civil War; favor for either side split fairly evenly between the two. On the upside the local blacksmith was firmly in favor of the Empire as well as the uncle of Hadvar. However, the owner of the mill, Gerdur was very obviously in Ulfric's camp. If she made any overt motions too soon, Arturia would have a large force of Stormcloaks marching south from Whiterun.

Arturia sighed and poured over the map she had on table. It closely marked the Legion's movement as well as possible. So far, the advance east has been steady. Legate Rikke was nearly ready to take Dawnstar as far as Arturia knew and Legate Jurgen was gathering men up near Ivarstead for a sneak attack on Riften.

With any luck they'd catch Ulfric off guard and confine the rebels to the northeast.


Somwhere around Boethiah's Shrine

I hummed a random tune under my breath as I scoured the land for a decent meal. I hadn't eaten since I 'woke up' and I was hungry! I swooped a bit lower and spotted a herd of cattle a dragon-length from the Windhelm Bridge. The farms there were very well off, making them the best targets for a hungry dovah.

With a fanged grin I swooped down and…

"Mooo!"

I flew back up quickly towards the mountain top to feast on the two yak-like cows I grabbed. This would good…

I sighed as the last of my meal slid its way down my gullet. The two were just right for me, as well as the stupid frost troll that tried taking a bite out of MY lunch. Frost trolls tasted a bit like burnt bacon and crunchy tuna when you charbroil them before eating. I was ready to take a little nap when I heard a thunderous roar echo to the southwest. Intrigued, I took off to see who it was.

I flew past a small settlement and over the sulfur flats towards the Bonestrewn Crest where I spotted a dovahsos, a blood dragon fighting with these two giants. I watched as the green dragon swooped around a knocked one giant over with a tail whip to the face. He (?) killed the other with a point-blank frost blast to the face. Sadly, the first giant recovered quick enough to grab the dragon by their tail and slam them to the ground. Seeing the giant raise its club to finish the dragon off, I decided to intervene.

I swooped down and slammed into the giant's back, tearing at his neck with my jaws. He was howling in pain as he struggled to get to his feet and me off his back. Alas, I loosed a full powered Yol-Toor-Shul and finished the fight.

I glanced at the blood dragon who had just recovered from his face meeting the dirt violently.

*All speech between dragons is in the dragon tongue*

I loosed a small stream of fire at the healing dragon's face in greeting. My hello was returned rather forcefully though…

"Why did you interfere, White-Scale? I had no need for your help!"

*snort* "Our apologies Swamp-Lurker, we could see that you had the fight completely under control…"

He growled and shot a wave of blue at me, shoving me back a few dozen feet. I slammed into the hillside with a heavy thud. I retaliated with an Unrelenting Force of my own, much stronger than his own that blasted him straight into a sulfur pool. I flapped my wings once to hop over to the downed dragon and pinned him to the ground, my Thu'um ready to be unleashed again.

"I did not come here to cater to your ego, Swamp-Lurker! Tell me your name or burn!"

The blood dragon struggled under my weight before giving up. He glared balefully at me and spat his answer.

"Norokvithdur, blood dragon and devout follower of Alduin!"

Fierce-Serpent-curse? Too bad he's an Alduin-fanatic…

"Krinvahzii, white elder and your death! Yol-Toor-Shul!"

I loosed the Thu'um within me and drowned his head in flames. He roared in pain and thrashed pitifully as I drew out the flames for as long as I could. I finally ended the shout and was rewarded with the Norokvithdur's dead gaze.

I was ready to take off when the carcass started to glow and I absorbed a bit off his soul as it returned to Alduin. I wondered what that was about when I was assaulted with images of Norokvithdur freezing countless mortals and beasts; the word Krah echoing in my mind.

I blinked and the assault ended. Shaking my head, I curiously tried out my frost breath on his corpse.

"Fo-KRAH!"

Formerly a small burst of icy thu'um, my frost breath was now an icy lance of cold air that left a trail of snow to Norokvithdur's body. Cool…

Urgh, pun not intended…


One week later, Falkreath Hold, Helgen

"We drink to our youth, for the days come and gone.

For the age of aggression is just about done.

We'll drive out the Stormcloaks and restore what we own.

With our blood and our steel we'll take back our home."

Hadvar watched the dredges of his mead swirl around the bottom of his mug. He glanced around the mostly-rebuilt inn, spotting his comrades nursing their wounds, both figurative and literal. Three nights ago the Stormcloaks attacked their encampment south of Riverwood and pushed his unit back all the way back to Helgen.

Any defense they had tried to mount was useless against the enemy advance; both Galmar and Ulfric had both led the charge. The retreat had cost the Legion a great deal of supplies and men, their numbers down a full two-thirds of their garrison. Hadvar was miserable despite Arturia's claims that if it weren't for his decision to reinforce Helgen's walls when they first reoccupied the town, they would have been massacred completely.

As it was, morale were at an all-time low and they wasn't enough mead and ale to keep their spirits.

"Budge up…"

Hadvar glanced back and found Arturia holding two pints and a platter of food. He scooted down the bench and nabbed a strip of beef off the platter. Arturia handed him one of the mugs and started on one of the apples.

"I'm sorry Captain…"

She sighed as he once again apologized.

"Apology not accepted Hadvar…and don't call me Captain. It wasn't your fault that we couldn't hold the line. We were outnumbered ten to one. If it weren't for you making Helgen livable and shoring up the defenses, we wouldn't have held out as long as we have. And wasn't it your idea to cause a rockslide to block the lakeside roads? Thanks to you, we still hold Falkreath and have a chance to retake Whiterun. So cheer up and drink your ale Captain."

Hadvar huffed and said, "Don't call me captain…" Arturia smirked as she watched Hadvar down the ale she had given him. Hadvar glanced at her smug expression when the room started spinning.

"Wh-ha…?"

"Down with Ulfric! The killer of kings!

On the day of your death we'll drink and we'll sing.

We're the children of Skyrim, and we fight all our lives.

And when Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies!

But this land is ours and we'll see it wiped clean.

Of the scourge that has sullied our hopes and our dreams."