Chapter 7:
As the sun reached its peak that day, the adventuring trio reached the bridge that connected Ivarstead to the wild lands across the river. The town that stood as a gateway before High Hrothgar lacked the sort of grandeur one would expect, and was not much different from other outlying villages like Riverwood. Houses and shops made of wood harvested from local trees, and nothing more noteworthy within than a tavern for weary travelers. It's only eye catching feature was the roaring river, dotted with short waterfalls, that carved between the two sections of land.
Scarn squirmed within Kian's bag as they crossed the river, new smells and the almost deafening sound of the river's falls making him nervous. Kian shifted the bag to his front so he could cradle the dragon without taking him out.
"Quiet yourself, Scarn," he whispered. "It's only until we get to the mountains."
"He's going to have a field day with all that snow…" Ralof said with a hint of humor.
Both the Nord and Lydia seemed confident and at ease throughout the rest of their travel, but the stiffness in their gate and the larger than usual gap they left between themselves and Kian betrayed their caution around the young dragon. Ralof changed directions towards the tavern as soon as they stepped off the bridge.
"Ralof, we don't have time to stop. I told you we were making straight for Hrothgar!"
"That's well and good for a Dragonborn, maybe, but us mortal men need nourishment. And in light of… recent events," the bag shuffled again. "I need a stiff drink." The blond man swung the door open and vanished into the sounds and smells of the tavern bar.
Kian and Lydia instead made themselves comfortable outside. Kian sat on the ground with his bag now settled in his lap while Lydia leaned back against the banister along the tavern's porch.
"Stormcloaks…" the housecarl muttered with a shake of her head. "This is what the rebel life does to you; no manners, no self-control."
"Maybe their reason for rebellion is the Imperials' uptight attitude." Kian jabbed playfully.
A slight grin lit Lydia's face.
"Says the Imperial?" she questioned as she lightly kicked him with her boot.
"Hey, I'll have you know I am far different from any Imperial."
"Yes, you're part Wildman."
"What?" Kian questioned indignantly.
"Oh, are you trying to deny that you leave your bed cold more often than your bed roll?"
"Damn you, woman, when will you stop holding that against me?" Kian sulked against the tavern porch rather dramatically.
"Perhaps when you give me reason to." Lydia's words were filled with a light laughter, something Kian was glad to hear from her.
As their conversation lulled, the Dovakiin's mood shifted to something more wistful.
"Perhaps you were right, Lydia. It has been too long since I traveled with someone other than my own thoughts. I'm sorry for not bringing you with me sooner."
The warrior woman tapped him with her boot again.
"All is forgiven, my Thane."
The tavern door burst open with a clatter against the wooden wall, and Ralof emerged as though a pack of draugers were on his tail. He leapt over the short stairs leading to the porch and landed with a thump before his companions.
"All right, everyone up, we best start now or we won't make Hrothgar before nightfall!" he spoke with forced cheer as he pulled Kian to his feet and dragged both him and Lydia through town towards the seven thousand steps.
"Ralof? What—" Kian tried to ask before the Nord interrupted.
"No time to talk," he whispered to them both. "Saw a few unsavory characters inside that would not take kindly to catching a Stormcloak in their presence."
"Causing trouble already?" Lydia quipped.
"Save your lectures, woman, let's just get out of here."
"Has everyone forgotten my name today?" Lydia asked as they started up the base of the mountain.
Kian snickered as he followed. Ralof trudged behind with a look of disappointment and a heavy sigh.
"I'll be downing a huge glass of mead once we get back…"
The seven thousand steps that led to High Hrothgar were never an easy task. Most climbers and pilgrims never tried to go farther than the first thousand or so; there was little reason to climb to the top as they would not be admitted into Hrothgar anyways. Kian was in the best shape out of the group by the time they crested the first peak. Though his legs burned from the effort, his breath was still even while Ralof and Lydia wheezed heavily in the sparse air.
"Must they live so far up?" Ralof asked as the group took a break against the rocks dotting the mountain side.
"The Greybeards like to keep themselves separate from the affairs of Skyrim. Their business is dragons, after all, not politics."
"Still could have built something closer to the ground…"
Kian gave a small smile of reassurance to his friend.
"It's not much farther now, just through this pass and up another section."
The Nord let out a long sigh.
"Well, we best finish tonight."
"Are you sure? We can rest longer."
"No, Ralof's right," Lydia interrupted. "The sooner the better."
The trio started into the blizzard once again, each hunched slightly to brace against the cold. A thought struck Kian as he noticed the absence of a certain presence, and he scanned across the snowy scape.
"Scarn? Where has that blasted beast gone off to now?" Frustrated, the Dragonborn sped ahead of the group to search.
He found the hatchling perched on a rocky outcrop that jutted from the mountain into empty air below. The Dragonborn thought to say something, but paused as he took in the sight. The dragon had his head stretched into the wind as far as it could reach, his wings shuffled and body shivered with what Kian guessed as anticipation.
Kian turned his gaze out towards the empty sky, scoured with grey clouds and filmed in white caused by the flurry of snow raining down on them. The clouds looked thick heavy, like one could land safely within their soft embrace if they jumped, and for a moment wondered if Scarn wanted to do just that. Shaking from his thoughts, Kian called to the dragon.
"Scarn, come on, we need to go."
Scarn turned when called, and hopped from the rock into the Dovakiin's waiting arms. The Imperial stroked the beast absently as he walked. Scarn was a dragon, no doubt the instinct to fly was lying dormant within him, waiting until his wings grew big enough to catch the wind themselves. How does one teach a dragon to fly? Kian had once seen a mother bird push her hatchlings from the nest, in a 'learn or die' sort of effort. And though each had taken flight before hitting the ground, Kian had no desire to do that himself.
Scarn began purring once more, and Kian decided to leave those worries for another day, as with most other dragon related things.
As they reached the pass, Kian's eyes lit with nostalgia.
"Hey Lydia, do you think it's still here?"
"Perhaps, if no scavengers made off with it."
"Is what still here?" The Stormcloak questioned.
Kian ran ahead, dragon clutched under one arm, and began digging through the snow against the side of the pass.
"A trophy from Kian's first big kill."
"Aha!" The Dragonborn cried in triumph as he lifted a skull from the snow drift. It was larger than a fist and took both hands to lift, with huge canine teeth making for an impressively fierce maw.
"Is that a Frost Troll skull?" The Nord asked with shock.
"Yes, one set up camp in this pass for a time. The only way Lydia and I could get through was by taking the thing out."
"Kian was so proud of himself. Even got to deliver the killing blow."
"Well of course I was proud. Just the day before I was a bound prisoner of the empire off to be executed, and in the course of a few hours I find myself the hero of a long-forgotten legend, made Thane of a major city, called to see the wisest men in all Skyrim, and killing a beast that gives seasoned adventurer's trouble on my first outing!"
"He made a little… shrine to commemorate it. Though really he just left the creature's skull on a rock."
"Well it was the best I could do at the time…"
"Why not take it with you and store it somewhere else?" Ralof asked.
"I don't know, I think it felt more special to keep it here. In the place it happened."
The adventurer dusted snow off the rock pile he had assembled all that time ago and carefully placed the skull back in its center.
"Alright, it has been nice taking a walk down memory lane, but the sun is starting to set. And the last thing I'd like to deal with are annoying wolves who think they can take us." Lydia said with clear annoyance in her voice.
"Alright, let's go. High Hrothgar is just ahead." Kian stated as he took the lead.
Scarn let out an agreeing screech from his perch on Kian's shoulder, seemingly excited, even though he didn't know where they were going.
High Hrothgar rose tall and imposing from the crest of the mountains. The grey castle carved away at the sky with its sharp tower steeples and the large shadow it casts across the snow made one feel quiet, and warry of one's actions; as though afraid of being disrespectful towards obviously sacred ground.
Kian saw a haven within the cold, unyielding stones, but Ralof and even Lydia looked slightly intimidated, constantly casting looks over their shoulders like they were being watched. As they trudged up one side of the stairs, shaking snow from their boots all the while, Kian paused in realization at the doorway.
"Ah, you both should probably wait here." He turned to speak to his companions.
"Yes, I figured." Lydia sighed.
"Wait, we came all this way and you're going to leave us outside?" The blonde asked in disbelief.
"Yes, well, the only ones permitted to enter High Hrothgar are either Dragonborn or those practicing The Shout, so unless you plan on training as a Greybeard— "
"Yes, yes, understood. I'll take my chances in the cold." Ralof resigned himself to leaning against the stone wall of the castle, though disappointment still tinged his voice.
"Look on the bright side, at least you have shelter." The Dragonborn pointed towards the stone covering over the entryway.
The Nord rolled his eyes.
"Just get in there, Dovakiin." Ralof waved his hand dismissively as Kian opened the doors and ducked inside.
The castle was nearly as cold inside as out, though there was a distinct sense of warmth towards its center, like a heart pumping life into the veins of a body. It almost made the castle feel alive, and was something Kian had come to like about the place. His boots echoed loudly across the empty halls as the adventurer made his way further in. Sounds came into focus, signs of the only life within the stone building.
A shot of nervousness flooded through Kian and he stopped walking abruptly. Scarn lifted his head from where he was cradled in Kian's arms and gave the Dragonborn a curious sounding purr. The small hatchling again felt heavy in Kian's grasp. A mixture of doubt and guilt weighing on top of the pile of scales, and the adventurer felt second thoughts filtering into his mind. Footsteps sounded farther down the hall and in a moment of panic, Kian his Scarn behind his back causing the dragon to screech at the sudden movement.
An elderly man draped in grey robes rounded the corner and stopped midstride when he caught sight of the visitor.
"Kian!" The man remarked cheerfully as he approached the Dovakiin for a greeting.
"Arngeir." The imperial greeted the elderly man with a short yet amicable handshake. "It has been some time, hasn't it?"
The man smiled, running a hand through his beard as he reminisced. "Yes, many months indeed. The duties of protector surely keep you busy, but it is good to see you."
"It is an honor." Kian bowed slightly in respect, though the atmosphere was still warm as if between equals.
The elderly Nords of High Hrothgar were the few he could truly connect with on the topic of dragons, voices, and Dovakiin. Though Arngeir was the only one who spoke with him directly, as the others held voices so powerful to speak would destroy their conversation partner, Kian had become well attuned to the silent language of the other members. Their body gesture and expressions spoke much to those who payed attention, and the wizened men were a constant source of support and advice when the trials became too confusing to bare.
"Come, the others are gathered in the main room. I'm sure they will be glad to see you well, and we have gathered more possibilities for the locations of shouts and the nests of the dragons guarding them."
Arngeir turned to lead the Dragonborn down the hall, until he noticed the sudden paleness of Kian's face.
"Kian? Is something wrong?"
The young man cursed to himself, reaching for some internal courage to proceed with the reveal. This is why he had come to High Hrothgar in the first place, yet unknown apprehension made revealing Scarn to the Greybeards feel like a bad idea. Was it a desire to protect the young dragon? Or perhaps shame he felt at hiding him? Still he was backed into a corner at this point. He could no longer leave the castle without the Greybeards knowing something was wrong and finding the dragon anyway. Now was the time.
"Arngeir, something has… come up. And I fear the situation with the dragons has become more complicated."
The elder's eyes widened slightly, but he stood in silence to let Kian continue.
"I, ah… I found something in one of the old Nord temples. A nest."
Arngeir's expression held no reaction.
"And, well, I found… this." Kian removed Scarn from behind his back, and at last the Graybeards composure was lost.
The old man stumbled over himself as he flinched back from the dragon, eyes round as eggs and mouth agape.
"By the gods!"
"Yeah, that's what I said." Scarn's gaze flickered from the old man to Kian and back again, looking confused. The dragonborn ran a finger along the back of his skull and the hatchling settled back against his chest.
Arngeir, now once again the mystic elder, stepped closer to see the dragon, one hand running long strokes through his beard.
"This is… unusual."
Kian nodded in agreement.
"I need your help. I don't know what to do." The Dovakiin felt lost and torn for one of the first times in his life, and the Graybeard's gaze softened. The elder placed a hand on the young man's shoulder.
"Come with me. I believe I know how to help you. And there are some secrets you should be told."
With that Arngeir turned and walked back the way he came through the castle, Kian following behind, now curious as well as confused. Eventually the hallway opened up into a large, circular room where the other Greybeards regularly gathered. All were here again, together around the runes painted on the floor in a tight circle. Three withered and aged faces turned to greet the two newcomers at the entry way, and almost immediately all three sets of eyes locked onto the baby dragon curled in Kian's grasp.
Silence reigned for a few tense moments, and the questions they held surfaced in their expressions. Kian felt rigged under their stare, and wished that for once attention would stop falling on him. Being the center point for most of the conflict swirling around Skyrim was beginning to wear on his bones and mind. Arngeir stepped forward to address the other members.
"My brothers, something… unexpected has occurred, and drastically changed the nature of our struggle against the return of our past masters. This is something that I believe will require we seek advice from our Grand Master, if the rest are in agreement."
The Graybeards gathered close in a dense knot, and Kian could hear urgent whispering drifting from the conference. Borri separated from the group after a time and whispered into Arngeir's ear before nodding and stepping back.
"Well, Dragonborn, it seems all the Graybeards have consented. It is time you met the Grand Master.