It's still dark when we leave the inn the next morning. At least these nightmares of mine act like an alarm, otherwise I probably wouldn't get out of bed until well past sunrise. The sky lightens as Lydia and I cross the bridge and start up the steps though. A short distance up the path is a stone sculpture, bearing an etched tablet. I step closer to read what is scratched into the stone.
Emblem I. Before the birth of Men, the Dragons ruled all Mundus. Their word was the Voice and they spoke only for True Needs. For the Voice could blot out the sky and flood the land.
Hmm. I wonder what it means, and if there are any others, as suggested by the 'I'? We follow the steps up, and a wolf springs out of a bush growing next to the path. We soon deal with the threat the creature tries to pose, and I skin the animal, then continue up the path.
After a couple of twists and turns, we reach another stone plaque like the one before. The sun has risen by now, seemingly balanced on the peaks of the eastern mountains. I step forward and read the tablet.
Emblem II. Men were born and spread over the face of Mundus. The Dragons presided over the crawling masses. Men were weak then and had no Voice. Another thought provoking passage - this seems to be a history of the times before history.
The next few meters of the path are relatively quiet, apart from a pair of unlucky wolves. The next emblem has an offering bowl in front of it.
Emblem III. We read. The fledgling spirits of Men were strong in the Old Times. Unafraid to war with Dragons and their Voices. But the Dragons only Shouted them down and broke their hearts.
Following the path a little further, Lydia and I pause to catch our breath. The view from this height is amazing – we have a clear view of the countryside all the way to the mountains that border Skyrim. It is a ruggedly beautiful land, mostly covered in brilliant white snow, grey ruins poking up here and there. Turning from the wondrous view, I head towards the next stone creation, Lydia following behind.
Emblem IV. Kyne called on Paarthurnax, who pitied Man. Together they taught Men to use the Voice. Then Dragon War raged, Dragon against Tongue.
We travel up a long straight set of steps to find a white troll waiting at the top. It hollers, and charges towards us. I manage to get a couple of shots in with my bow before it closes the distance, and Lydia and I bare our blades and start hacking at the thick matted fur. The fell beast is soon slain, and I collect some of its fat before continuing on to the nearby emblem.
Emblem V. Man prevailed, Shouting Alduin out of the World. Proving for all that their Voice too was strong. Although their sacrifices were many-fold. Who was Alduin? I turn, and follow the steps. The trip to the next emblem is quiet. I've decided to read them all, as I am curious as to what happened before recorded time.
Emblem VI. With roaring Tongues, the Sky-Children conquer. Founding the First Empire with Sword and Voice. Whilst the Dragons withdrew from this World.
I think I understand why there is nothing living up here apart from the Greybeards – it is freezing cold! The snow crunching beneath my boots, I reach the next emblem and catch my breath against the icy wind.
Emblem VII. The Tongues at Red Mountain went away humbled. Jurgen Windcaller began his Seven-Year Meditation. To understand how strong Voices could fail.
The emblems are getting closer together as we climb the mountain. I take this as a good sign – we must be getting closer to High Hrothgar.
Emblem VIII. Jurgen Windcaller chose silence and returned. The 17 disputants could not Shout him down. Jurgen the Calm built his home on the Throat of the World. And what a lonely place to do so. The next one sits at the base of a Talos statue.
Emblem IX. For years all silent, the Greybeards spoke one name. Tiber Septim, stripling then, was summoned to Hrothgar. They blessed and named him Dovahkiin. I'm guessing Dovahkiin means Dragonborn, then. Wait – does this mean I'm descended from a god?
Another short set of stairs and the great stone building comes into sight. It is truly a humbling sight, the great grey stone staring out over the tundra of Whiterun. Just before the steps up to the chest which sits at the base of the steps to the doors, is the last emblem stone.
Emblem X. The Voice is worship. Follow the Inner Path. Speak only in True Need. Reading this last, I feel a warm sensation, and am surrounded briefly by a sapphire-blue light. I wonder what that was?
Approaching the snowy chest, I pull out the bag of supplies. The lid of the chest is almost too cold to bear, so I quickly drop the bag inside and let the lid fall closed. There – I should tell Klimmek when I'm done here that the job is finished – I don't want him worrying that I'd bailed and left the Greybeards foodless. I climb the final steps and push the metal door open.
With only the quietest of squeaks, the door reveals a smoky interior, the corners of the room scattered with clay urns and vases. The door shuts as silently behind us, and as my eye gets used to the dimness of the interior, I see a grey-robed man approaching. The Greybeards are well named, it seems – not one hair of his knotted beard carries any trace of colour.
"So, a Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age." He says when I come nearer.
"I'm answering your summons." I tell him. Lydia stands quietly to the side.
"We'll see if you truly have the gift. Show us, Dragonborn – let is taste of your Voice." He wants me to Shout at him? Alright…
"FUS!" My – Thu'um, did the Jarl call it? – merely staggers him.
"Dragonborn, it is you. Welcome to High Hrothgar." He says as he regains his footing. "I am Master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards. Now tell me, Dragonborn, why have you come here?" Good grief – is he already senile?
"I want to find out what it means to be Dragonborn." I explain. Arngeir nods.
"We are here to guide you in that pursuit, just as the Greybeards sought to guide those of the Dragon Blood that came before you."
"You mean I'm not the only Dragonborn?" I ask, curious. And slightly hopefully – this is a large burden for one elf to carry, being a figure of legend.
"You are not the first." Responds the Greybeard. "There have been many of the Dragon Blood since Akatosh first bestowed the gift upon mortal-kind. Whether you are the only Dragonborn of this age…that is not ours to know." I'm kind of disappointed with that, but it's also what I was expecting to hear. "You are the only one that has been revealed thus far. That is all I can say."
Ok. Well, if I'm going to be the only one, I'd better know what I'm doing then.
"I'm ready to learn."
Arngeir moves away from the stairs behind him so other robed figures can enter the space around us. They spread out as Arngeir speaks.
"You have shown that you are Dragonborn – you have the inborn gift. But do you have the discipline and temperament to follow the path laid out for you? That remains to be seen. Without training, you have already taken the first steps towards projecting your Voice into a Thu'um, or Shout. Now let us see if you are willing, and able, to learn. When you Shout, you speak in the language of dragons." Understandable, seeing as I have the Dragon Blood, or so they keep telling me.
Arngeir continues. "Thus, your Dragon Blood gives you an inborn ability to learn Words of Power. All Shouts are made up of three Words of Power – as you master each Word, your Shout will become progressively stronger. Master Einarth will now teach you 'Ro', the second Word in Unrelenting Force. 'Ro' means 'balance' in the dragon tongue. Combine it with 'Fus' – force – to focus your Thu'um more sharply." With this, one of the other Greybeards steps forward.
"Ro…" He whispers at the ground, and scratches, which I assume are dragon letters, appear in the stone at his feet. I approach the letters, and again I feel warmth suffuse my body.
"You learn a new Word like a master." Arngeir is impressed, I think. "You truly do have the gift. 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's how the rest of us learn Shouts. As Dragonborn, you can absorb a slain dragon's life force and knowledge directly." So that's what happened at the Western Watchtower. "As part of your initiation, Master Einarth will allow you to tap into his understanding of 'Ro'."
Einarth closes his eyes, concentrating, and a funnel of light and warmth akin to that from Mirmulnir appears and spirals towards me, filling me with knowledge of the Word. How it affects the Shout, making it more powerful. The light fades, the warmth soon after, and a cold breeze blows through the cracks in the stonework, causing me to shiver.
"Now," continues Arngeir. "let us see how quickly you can master your new Thu'um. Use your Unrelenting Force Shout to strike the targets as they appear." I move so that the floor-space is clear, so that the targets, whatever they are, have room to appear.
"Fiik Lo Sah!" Says one of the other Greybeards, and a spectral figure appears in front of me, dressed like one of the Greybeards.
"Fus Ro!" I Shout at it. It stumbles, and fades. I feel a little more drained this time than I did only using the one Word, but I soon recover.
"Well done." Praises the Speaker for the Greybeards. "Again."
"Fiik Lo Sah!" a different Greybeard says, and another spectre materialises.
"Fus Ro!" The target vanishes.
"You learn quickly. Once more." Sigh. The process is repeated again. Lydia seems unfazed by all this, standing silently in the corner of the room. I like this stoic Nord.
"Impressive." Remarks Arngeir. "Your Thu'um is precise. You show great promise, Dragonborn. We will perform your next trial in the courtyard. Follow Master Borri." He gestures towards one of his fellow monks, who starts towards the double set of doors that form the back wall.
The courtyard is rather bleak, snow-covered and cold. There is a fire-pit, but it isn't anywhere near the area they're taking me, Lydia following a short distance behind.
"We will now see how you learn a completely new Shout." Says Arngeir, behind us. "Master Borri will teach you 'Wuld', which means 'whirlwind'." Again, a Word etched into the snow, the heated learning.
"You must hear the Word within yourself before you can project in into a Thu'um. Approach Master Borri and he will gift you his knowledge of 'Wuld'." I can't help but hear the Word 'within myself', but I don't think echoes bouncing around my skull is what he meant. Nevertheless, I take a step forward and accept the embrace of the light.
Wuld. I know now how to use this to my advantage, to quickly get away from an opponent, to add distance.
"Now we will see how quickly you can master a new Shout." Arngeir, Borri and another Greybeard cross the courtyard towards a short, free-standing pillar of stone, Borri heading towards a gate that stands a short distance away, barring the way to nowhere. I think I see where this is going.
"Master Wulfgar will demonstrate Whirlwind Sprint, then it will be your turn. Master Borri?"
"Bex!" Borri says, and the gates swing open.
"Wuld Nah Kest!" says Wulfgar, and blurs through the gate, coming to an abrupt halt on the other side, just before he would've gone straight over the edge of the cliff behind the gate. That's rather dangerous – what if I overshoot and go straight over? I'd die!
"Now it is your turn. Stand next to me. Master Borri will open the gate. Use your Whirlwind Sprint to pass through the gate before it closes." Oh well. Here goes. I step forward.
"Bex!"
"Wuld!" Everything around me blurs momentarily, and suddenly I'm standing just over the threshold of the gate. Does that count? I turn, and see Arngeir's approving nod. Seems so. I walk back over to the Greybeard.
"Your quick mastery of a new Thu'um is…astounding. I'd heard the stories of the abilities of Dragonborn, but to see it for myself…" I've rendered him speechless! I appreciate the compliment, though.
"Thank-you. What's next?"
"You are now ready for your last trial – retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, our founder, from his tomb in the ancient fane of Ustengrav." Another dungeon crawl? At least I won't be alone this time.
"Remain true to the Way of the Voice, and you will return. Sky guard you." With that, the Greybeards turn and head back inside.
I take a deep breath. I'm not entirely sure I want to repeat my experiences from Bleak Falls Barrow, but if I want to know any more about who I am, I'm going to have to, aren't I?
Lydia and I pass through High Hrothgar and head down the mountain path. There is nothing left to attack us now from our ascent, but at least there are still enough hours of daylight yet to see by.
We soon reach the village at the bottom of the mountain. I go searching for the wrinkled Nord and find him standing on the bank of the river, next to another chiming nirnroot. I ignore the plant for now and catch Klimmek's attention.
"Ah, good to see you again! How did that delivery go?"
"I delivered the supplies to High Hrothgar." I inform him.
"Quite a climb, wasn't it? Anyway, much appreciated. Here, take this for your troubles." Well, it would be quite rude of me not to accept the coin-purse he offers! Thanks again for the legwork." Klimmek turns and heads towards the inn.
I carefully extract the glowing little plant from the earth and put it in my bag with the other, then head off back down the goat track. At the bottom of the slope, a sabre cat finishes killing a goat, then looks at me. Before I can draw my sword, however, it turns and runs off. What?
The trip back to the road is quiet. As our feet touch the worn stone, a wolf emerges from the underbrush and dashes past us after a rabbit, not even pausing when it stepped on my boot. This must have something to do with what happened when I finished reading the emblems. Not that I mind!
Crossing a bridge, we pass a trio of Stormcloaks who are obviously on their way back to base. When we get back to the twin towers, marked on my map as Valtheim, we get stopped by the bandits.
"Hold it – this here's a toll road, see?" The girl says. "You're going to have to hand over, say, 200 gold if you want to use our road." I'm not handing over that sort of cash!
"How does 50 gold sound?" I try to persuade her, expecting an order to attack in response.
"Eh, fine." She says instead. "I can tell you aren't worth the trouble. Just get out of here before I change my mind." I the purse of gold to her, then continue down the road, Lydia giving the group wary glances as we go.
A little way down the road, I try to jog past a group of warriors who are just wandering down the path, but they draw their weapons and attack us. More bandits! Lydia and I deal with them quickly. I'm getting tired of all this battle. Can't we just have one trip where someone or something doesn't try to kill me?
The sun is getting close to setting when we reach the bridges, so I decide to go back to Whiterun for the night.
I reach the marketplace and head into a shop, the sign outside proclaiming it to be 'Belethor's General Goods'.
"Got something for just about everybody in here." The proprietor says as the door closes behind us. "Give a holler if you have any questions." I have a quick glance around as I approach the counter.
"Everything's for sale, friend, everything! If I had a sister, I'd sell her in a second!"
"Give over, Belethor." It's the first thing I've heard Lydia say since we left Dragonsreach.
"At the moment, it's more what can I sell to you." I say as I start emptying my satchel of unwanted goods onto the counter. As he counts out the gold for the items, I have a closer look at the contents of the shelves. "Actually, I'd like to purchase some healing potions, some lockpicks and…those two spell books, please."
Belethor extracts the relative amount of gold from the total worth of the items I'm selling and reaches down the products I asked for.
"Do come back." The shopkeeper says as I tuck my purchases into my bag and head out the door. I read the spell books as Lydia closes the door behind us, the arcane knowledge briefly flooding my mind before fading back into the far reaches where my magical knowledge sits. I look up to see an argument taking place in front of one of the stalls.
"Foolish old woman." Says the richly dressed man, who was standing next to the Imperial soldier from before, when I first entered the city. "You know nothing! Nothing of our struggles, our suffering!" Funny, I've never seen a rich man suffer much.
"Nothing?" asks the poor old lady they've ganged up on. "And what of my son, hmm? What of Thorald, is he nothing? So don't talk to me about suffering!"
"Your son chose his side, and he chose poorly." Says the young Nord. "And now he's gone. Such is the way of war – the sooner you accept his loss, the better."
"I will never accept his death! My son still lives, I feel it in my heart. So tell me, Battle-Borns – where is he? Where are you hiding my Thorald?"
"Do you believe this old hag?" laughs the richly dressed man, who can't be that much younger. "Why, I've got him in my cellar – he's my prisoner. Face it, cow! Your stupid son is dead. He died a Stormcloak traitor, and you…you'd best keep your mouth shut before you suffer the same." I'm amazed the nearby guardsman isn't intervening at this point – that was a blatant death threat!
"Come on, Father. There's nothing more to be said here." The two Battle-Borns walk away, leaving the poor woman on the edge of tears.
The sun is touching the horizon now, so I head into the inn.
"Welcome! Let me know if you want anything…think I got a clean mug around here somewhere." Hulda greets me across the room as the bard stands up and pulls out his lute.
"This is an ode to Skyrim's staunch protectors." He announces, as he begins to strum. "The Imperials." He launches into the song. I pause to listen.
"We drink to our youth, to days come and gone, for the age of aggression is just about done." Sings the bard. "We'll drive out the Stormcloaks and restore what we own. With our blood and our steel we will take back our home. Down with Ulfric, the killer of kings! On the day of your death we will 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." Well. I'm not sure I approve greatly of this one. I munch on the sweetroll I bought the day before – still good – and a bottle of mead looted from the dead wolf-catcher.
When I have finished the last swill of mead, I approach the bard.
"Mikael." He introduces himself. "I'm a bard by trade. Perhaps you've heard of me?" Nope. Not at all.
"Can I make a request?" I ask.
"Sure, what can I do for you?"
"Can you sing that one you did the first time I was in here?" I don't know the name.
"Ragnar the Red? Ah, a fine but bloody tale. I can do that one." After accepting the small amount of gold I offered, he raises his lute and starts.
"Oh, there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red who came riding to Whiterun from ole Rorikstead!" The other patrons perk up to listen, and join in, to his fine Nord voice. "And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade as he told of bold battles and gold he had made! 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 you lie down and bleed! And so then came the clashing and slashing of steel as the brave lass Matilda charged in full of zeal! And the braggart named Ragnar was boastful no moooree… when his ugly red head rolled around on the floor!" The last line was practically shouted by everyone, who then applauded Mikael and went back to their drinks.
I head to the bar.
"I enjoy this work well enough," comments Hulda. "but I'm ready to retire. I've been thinking of selling the inn to Ysolda. Anyway, what do you need?"
"I'd like to rent a room." I hand over the ten gold as she reminds me I only have the room for one day. I notice a quiet, armoured woman sat in the corner, so I sidle over to talk to her.
"Uthgerd the Unbroken." She says. "Think you can go blade to blade with me? You'd be dead in six seconds." If I couldn't tell otherwise, I'd say she was drunk, but it seems she's just plain boastful. I don't like the attitude.
"You think you can take me on?" I say, stretching my fingers in my new gauntlets, taken from the bandit group along with the banded iron armour I now wear.
"And why not?" Comes the response. As expected. "I could beat anyone in this city, bare-handed. A hundred gold says I knock your hide to the ground."
"You're on." I say as I count out the mentioned total, and place it in a purse on the table Uthgerd is sat at. She tops it off with another hundred coins as she rises, saying:
"Just fists. No weapons, no magic…no crying. Let's go!" And she suddenly swings a fist at me.
I anticipated the attempt though, so I dodge to the side and deal a quick one-two before she can block. The brawl continues a lot like this, me dodging some, blocking others, all the while throwing my own fists forward into the steel-covered body of my opponent. She lands the occasional hit, and blocks some of mine, but it isn't long before she's crouched on the ground, tonguing her jaw to test for loose teeth.
"Now that's what I call a punch!" She praises me as she rises. "You got me."
"I think I've earned that hundred gold." I smile. She gave a good fight, I have to admit.
"You're no liar – best fight I've had in years." Uthgerd tosses me the purse. "There you are. If you ever need another blade at your side, just ask. Wouldn't mind seeing how you handle a few trolls!" With that, she reclaims her seat and signals for a top-up.
I head upstairs to the room, undress, and with Lydia standing guard, sleep the night through.