In his dreams, he could see his burdens, like daedra whispering them into his ears, mocking him even. A soldier would fall dead in the blood stained snow, his heart pierced by a sword and spilling it's life like a tipped chalice of mead. But then he could see hundreds charred alive and stuck in the position that they fearfully posed before tasting oblivion. A mother, burnt like the rest, holds her child, hopeless and waiting to travel to Aetherius. He, in the middle of it all, reached out his hand and touched the flaky skin, but immediately the mother and child's forms fell in ashes.

He stepped back, staring at the floating specks of what used to be live people. Then he heard a dragon's roar, and he frantically shot his head around to find the source. From the blotted sky of smoke appeared the big black dragon, Alduin, jagged spikes colored of soulless dark blood. With no sword or shield, he tried to turn and run, but he was stuck in place, the world holding him back like thousand pound boulders were chaining him. His throat closed up and he choked on his own saliva as he watched the dragon fly in closer and open its mouth. Closer it came, then eye to eye; it snatched him up in its maw. The teeth drove deep into his skin, stabbing through organs and breaking through bones.

The Dragonborn shot awake with a gasp and continued panting; sweat rolling down his forehead indicating his body was in a panic while he slept. He was uncomforted by overwhelming heat while wrapped up in his knapsack, and so he sat up and slipped out of it. His chest rose and lowered to his breathing as he was fatigued, but the frosty cold air of the mountainside stung his lungs and pained his inner mouth greatly.

It was just a dream he would tell himself; but as priests would say, dreams had a hidden message. Maybe the Daedric Prince, Vaermina of dreams and nightmares has cursed him, or is warning him of a dark future. Whatever the unfortunate may be, he had to release his mind.

The Dark Elf of the group had been awoken as she felt a disturbance about her presence. Looking around, she slipped out of her knapsack and lifted her hand, palms upward and a light of flame emerged in a flickering place like she held a chalice. She saw the Dragonborn off near the edge of the cliff, sitting criss-crossed in front of one of the plaques and without a top on. She immediately became concerned; so to him she walked, but not without retrieving his fur cloak first.

When she neared him, she bent her knees and draped the cloak around his shivering form, and reached her palm out in front of him and casted the fire again while her other arm rested around his shoulders.

She had many things she could scold him for now, but seeing him cold and sad brought more worry to her about him than his simple stupidity that angered her. Instead of asking why he would so carelessly threaten his health in such a condition where his blood could freeze, she asked him, "Are you okay?"

She could feel his back rise and fall to his breaths; something had disturbed him greatly. "What happened?" The young man still shivered through her warmth, and couldn't speak. "Arminius," she said softly, and he finally found the comfort in her presence to talk, despite struggling through jitters.

"I…there was so much fire…it could melt skin…burn you in place…" he said. "I wanted to forget that in this…cold, but now I have forgotten, and I can find warmth in the light of your fire from a source more kind than a Dragon's throat."

"You had a dream," Jenassa said. "You are here now, none of what you felt was true." He leaned into her, and she gladly accepted him into her arms. She ran her fingers across his forehead and through his hair to wipe away the frost, and he dug his nose into the safety of her chest. Jenassa held his head softly to her, and they would stay like that until he would stop shivering.

"We should keep moving higher," the Dragonborn said as he looked up at her. "This mountain trail is dangerous; we would be safer in High Hrothgar."

"If that is what you wish Arminius; I shall awake the other two and we should be of."

And so the rest had been awakened, and they packed their camp and continued upward. The group was positioned like a double file line; Hadvar and Erik in the back while the Dragonborn and Jenassa led. From behind, Hadvar observed the two in front, and it seemed to him that Jenassa rode closer next to the Dragonborn than before, and was almost like she had the essence of protection over him.

"Are those two in union?" he was snapped out of his thoughts by the first of a series of nettlesome questions that would be asked by Erik. This first question, however, had caught him by surprise as what Erik had asked passed him.

"I'm sorry?"

"The Dragonborn and the Dark Elf," Erik said. "Are they in union?"

"No," Hadvar laughed. "No; Jenassa, she's…she's just really concerned for him, that's all."

"Hmm, but he's Dragonborn," Erik said. "He's glorious in combat, right? Do his friends need to worry so much for him?"

"He's good in combat, you are right; both in and out of formation," Hadvar said. "We don't worry about his skill, we worry about his well-being. He's just been burdened with saving the world after he has gone through so much already."

They continued on, and further up they went, the stairs wrapping around the cliff side. Eventually, at a very high altitude, they were able to make out the stone engravings, two flights of stairs curving past either side of a tall watchtower, and the ends of the stairs were two large doors made of the same material, leading into the large structure of the temple.

They neared and dismounted their horses, leaving them off juxtapose. The four ascended up the right staircase but the Dragonborn stopped and turned to them when they reached the door.

With the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller in his hand, he said, "I'm going to get this to the Greybeards, and then they will give me their final greeting."

"And then we can travel back to Riverwood and make our plan with Delphine," Hadvar said.

"So, what're we waiting for?" Erik asked, and he made his way forward but was stopped by the Dragonborn's hand to his chest.

"No," he said. "The Greybeards have unimaginable power within their voices, and I have no idea what kind of power this final greeting will be thrust upon me. For your safety, I'll ask you three to remain out here until it is over."

"We came all this way just to get shunned out?" Erik said, and Hadvar laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Let him do what he needs to do," he said. "After that, we'll be off."

The Dragonborn entered, pushing the stone doors open and closing them behind him. The Temples interior was very artistically designed, many engravings carved into the walls, pillars with the forms of dragons, and walls with the pictures of stories. In the middle of the great room was a large space, where before he had taken his first lessons with the Greybeards. Right there was one of them, and he stood up from the ground and turned.

"Master Arngeir," the Dragonborn greeted, and he held up the ancient Horn to show.

"Dragonborn!" Master Arngeir acknowledged, his old voice weak and raspy. "So you have returned with the horn of Jurgen Windcaller. It must have been a journey there and back again." The Dragonborn handed Arngeir the horn and then he bowed respectfully to his teacher.

"I had some help…" he said. Arngeir had tucked the horn away into his robe.

"I assume you want to waste no time in receiving our final greeting? Come then, and we shall commence."

At some point in his time in the room, the Dragonborn found himself standing in the very center of the dimly lit stone room, and the four masters had stood surrounding him. They each looked to one another and nodded toward each other. The combined might of the voices of the three Masters who couldn't speak; what was the Dragonborn to expect?

Arngeir spoke; "You are ready to learn the final word of Unrelenting Force: DAH."

One of the masters, Wulfgar, leaned forward and whispered "Dah" faintly, and out came a small scale of the aura energy. It whooshed onto the floor and sizzled, and from the impact radius came the burned bright dashes of the word Dah in the dragon language's writing. The Dragonborn stepped up to it, kneeled down and wiped his fingers underneath the formed word, staring into it. As though he could feel its energy running through his fingertips and up his arm, he closed his eyes and breathed in. The knowledge of the word and its written form had been burned into his mind painlessly, like it did to the floor. He opened his eyes again to see that the burning light of the word had faded, and was now just a scar in the ground; he had learned it.

He stood up again, the word Dah buzzing, soaring through his head like a million voices whispering into his ears at once.

"With all three words together, this shout is much more powerful," Arngeir said. "Use it wisely."

The Dragonborn could feel himself grow stronger, and now light aura energy stretched itself from master Wulfgar to him. An exchange of knowledge and understanding, so unique an exchange to the Dragonborn only, it howled like wind. New knowledge and understanding, out of nowhere, was born into his mind. FUS ROH DAH; it all came together so perfectly. Now he was powerful.

"Now, Dragonborn, stay right where you are and prepare yourself," Arngeir instructed. "Few can stand the unbridled voice of the Greybeards. But you are ready."

He did as they said, and he prepared himself to receive the greeting that he would have. Simultaneously, they began to chant in the dragon tongue, the language of the Thu'um. The Dragonborn was shook violently, as though a Nirnquake had hit the temple. Such a vibration as violent as what he experienced can send the snow on the mountainside into an avalanche, and through it all he began to worry about the well-being of the three that awaited him outside the temple.

The Greybeards would stop shortly, and though his legs wobbly, he would manage to gain his footing before the masters would speak again, and again he shook violently. He was brought to his knee, hand on the ground for support. This would move on, and surely he would fall further to the floor; but at last, the trial was over, the masters are done.

And Arngeir whispered… "Dragonborn."

The Dragonborn pushed the door out and stepped into the cold air of the mountain top. The three had casually been sitting around, Jenassa moving back and forth until they all noticed him.

"Arminius!" Hadvar shouted. "What happened in there?"

"There was a Nirnquake," Erik said. "Was it a Nirnquake?"

The Dragonborn, still slightly dizzy, said; "Do not worry friends, my trials are over."

"What did they do to you?" Jenassa asked with concern.

"They only made their final greeting; I am officially Dragonborn."

"Well," Hadvar said. "I guess this means we won't have to be climbing seven thousand steps again?"

"We will have to climb down it, though," the Dragonborn said, and Hadvar scoffed.

"What do you say then, Arminius? Shall we be off?" Jenassa said.

"We shall; we must make haste quickly back to Riverwood, and meet Delphine back at the Sleeping Giant Inn."