Chapter Thirty-Six:

Arngeir's Aid

The path up to Helgen quickly turned from infested with frostbite spiders and wolves to flooded with bears and soldiers on both sides of the war. We had to duck out of the way of the soldiers a few times, but we ambushed the bears pretty well.

When Helgen came into view, I realized that some of it was still smouldering. I could smell the flames with ease. The gate that we approached had wooden spikes stuck fast in the ground with burnt corpses still adorned in their armour (be it Imperial or Stormcloak) as a warning for travellers. The gate itself was locked, but Cha'qim grabbed her tools and made quick work of it. We had decided to take an alternate entrance, but it seemed that everywhere was guarded.

The first step we took inside, we were swarmed by angry bandits. We hardly had any time to draw our weapons before they were upon us. Luckily, Javin shot some ice spikes from his hands to keep the bandits at bay until Hiemdall and Milos cleaved through three, creating an opening for Cha'qim, Aldren and I. Aldren buried his daggers into a man each and paved the way for Cha'qim, who sliced her dwarven sword and ebony dagger across the chest of a Nord bandit. I ducked under a warhammer that an Argonian swung at me and lunged forward, thrusting my ebony sword so far through his gut that my hands were coated in his lifeblood. I slid him off and moved to the next bandit.

I think we fought the army of bandits for a good long hour. We spread out through Helgen in two teams of three. Javin took the lead in one with Hiemdall and Aldren covering his back to the keep, while Milos and Cha'qim followed me to the location of the chopping block. We passed through the house that Milos and I had initially jumped through from the tower (I had broken through the second floor. My backside still hurt from the impact), killing a few more bandits on the way, and then entered the tower. We had to fight up the stairs at a significant disadvantage, but Milos powered through to let us slip behind the bandits and take them out from behind.

We made it to the top of the keep in time to see Javin, Aldren and Hiemdall kill the last of their bandits, so we waved them over. I used our vantage point to scout the road to Ivarstead. If we set out soon, we'd reach Ivarstead before sunset. If we didn't stop, we'd be in High Hrothgar only a couple hours after sundown, considering that we'd made the trip often enough to know what to expect.

"Well? What's the verdict?" Javin asked as he peered in the direction of Ivarstead.

I ran a hand through my hair, noting that I had to cut it soon. "We should head out. I mean, the bandits are dead. There's nothing more here..."

"Nothing but the memories of a Dragon trying to kill us." Milos sat on the stonework. "And the Empire. But it's nothing we can't handle, right?"

"Yeah..."

"We could've just gone around," Aldren grumbled.

I grinned. "What? And leave these bandits an entire smouldering ruin to themselves? I think not. They'd get lonely."

Aldren rolled his eyes. "We're wasting daylight and I'm getting hungry. Let's just go."

"You weren't hungry before?" Milos asked.

Shrugging, the Dunmer replied, "I found something for a while. But it won't let me eat anymore."

"I'm not an 'it'!" Javin exclaimed. "You can't just creep on someone when they're sleeping and suck their blood!"

"You had nothing against it when you didn't know."

"That was when I wasn't aware of it at all, you sick bastard!"

"This one is suddenly very glad that she is not the target of the mage or the Vampire," Cha'qim added. "Khajiit feels strongly that they would get along better if the Dunmer hypnotized the Redguard."

"Woah! Stop right there!" I held my hands up to grab their attention. "No hypnotizing! No making people do things against their will!" I looked pointedly at Cha'qim. "And no manipulating things from behind the scenes while appearing innocent. I'm onto you."

"Cha'qim is hurt! She has never in her life been accused of such a thing!"

"Yeah? Well that's because you've never been caught!"

The Khajiit smiled a guilty, cat-like smile. "Ooh. Point made. Cha'qim will be more subtle next time. She promises."

I facepalmed.

We left Helgen moments later with loot from the bandits. The gold we added to our cache was going to help us immensely, as well as the things we found that were worth selling. We followed the path east, in-between the Jerall Mountains and the Throat of the World to Ivarstead, arriving at the village a scant hour before sundown. After a quick discussion we decided we could make it up to High Hrothgar before it became too dark to travel. If we took too long, we could make camp in that alcove that the frost troll we'd slain the first time around had made its home.

As we climbed the seven-thousand steps, I glanced over at Aldren. "How old are you?" I asked the Dunmer.

He stroked his beard. "Age isn't a thing I pay much attention to. I'm an elf and a Vampire. It doesn't mean anything."

"Then, do you know when you were born?"

"Erm..." Aldren rubbed his head. "Pelagius the Mad's rule in the third era."

"So you were there for the Oblivion Crisis?!"

The assassin shrugged. "I was in Cyrodiil at the time, yes. I was staying in the Imperial City and working the sewers. Bet on the Arena a few times. I was there when the Gray Prince was defeated by the next Grand Champion of the Arena. Good man. A bit enamoured with his reputation, but still a good man. I had a friend who used to bet with me there. A little Bosmer with bright yellow hair that stuck up this way and that. Could never remember his name..." Aldren paused, as if to recall. "He died tragically after the death of the Gray Prince. His body was found in the north, far from the Imperial City. Suicide, some said. I'm not sure myself."

I grinned at the knowledge of the third era. I'd always wanted to go see the Arena fights when I was younger. They were still going because of the morale that was needed in Cyrodiil, and what better way to invigorate a people than to watch a slaughter-fest?

"Did you know the Hero of Kvatch?" I asked him.

Aldren shook his head. "No. I knew the Divine Crusader though. Despite what the legends said, he was quite civil with elves. I'd always thought that every Crusader would have something against my kind."

"Probably for the same reason why every Redguard is a warrior, or every Imperial is a merchant. Or even every Argonian is a sneak-thief. Frankly, the only walking stereotypes in our little group is Hiemdall, Cha'qim and yourself."

"I'm flattered, Greystone." Aldren shrugged. "I don't remember the moniker that the Grand Champion chose in that time, but I happen to recall his name, at least: Arenar Valeiu. His wife rarely visited the Arena. She wasn't one who cared for blood, he told me once. Ironically, I was also in Morrowind when the Nerevarine appeared. Didn't get to see him, but I still heard about it. I stayed in Cyrodiil until the Thalmor made a move, and then made my way up to Hammerfell. When the war appeared there, I came to Skyrim. Worked as a merchant for a time, and then fell in with the priests of Mara... And now you know where I am today."

"I can't imagine living that long..."

Again, Aldren shrugged. "What is a day to a decade? It's what you do with both that really make your life worth living, right?"

I grinned. "Well, aren't you just chalk-full of wise words?"

"Don't get used to it. My reputation as Listener of the Dark Brotherhood still stands."

"My lips are sealed."

"Good."

We were ready to reach for our torches by the time we arrived at High Hrothgar. I was glad for the fires that illuminated the stone structure, but we still slipped a few times on stairs and such. We were lucky no one tumbled down the Throat of the World, honestly.

The doors were almost frozen shut, but we managed to open them after Hiemdall and Milos ran at them. Once we were inside, it became a unanimous agreement that everyone was too tired to learn any Shouts. The Greybeards were still awake and very graciously allowed us to use their room for the time being. Anyone who didn't get a bed used a bedroll, but it was still a welcome change from camping out.

We roused the next morning and left the bedchambers to grab something to eat. The Greybeards used that time to go to sleep in their own beds, so I began poking around their meagre library for something to occupy my time until Arngeir awoke. Everyone found something to do as well, so they weren't just standing around like statues.

After reading through several volumes of "The Song of Pelinal", Arngeir finally made his way to the large, circular table in the eastern wing of the monastery with some food in his hand. I decided to read through the seventh volume of the account so as to give him some time to eat. I figured that he was curious as to why we'd come, and so snuck glances at me while I was reading, although he waited patiently for me to approach him.

I closed the book I was reading when I finished it and set it aside. Arngeir allowed a smile underneath his braided beard.

"It looks as though your training in the Voice is going well, Dragonborn," he commented. "I can sense the souls of the slain Dragons. You have taken their knowledge for yourself, although you could do with learning a few more Words of Power..."

"Um, speaking of that..." I cleared my throat. "Arngeir, I need to learn the Shout used to defeat Alduin."

Arngeir's smile slowly faded. His eyes narrowed at me. "Where did you learn of that? Who have you been talking to?"

"I..." I hesitated, unsure if I should come clean or not.. "It was recorded on Alduin's Wall."

"The Blades! Of course." The Greybeard shook his head. "They specialize in meddling in matters they barely understand. Their reckless arrogance knows no bounds. They have always sought to turn the Dragonborn from the path of wisdom." Arngeir's eyes locked onto me. If looks could kill... "Have you learned nothing from us? Would you simply be a tool in the hands of the Blades, to be used for their own purposes?"

I felt... small in Arngeir's eyes. But I straightened and met the old man halfway. "Half of their order despises me and only tolerates me because I'm Dragonborn. It's just her little oath getting in the way of her attempting to beat the crap out of me. The Blades are helping me. I'm not their puppet, and I never will be."

The Greybeard shook his head again, although not in disapproval, and massaged the right side of his forehead. "No, no, of course not. Forgive me, Dragonborn. I have been intemperate with you." I shrugged in response. Arngeir took a long, slow drink of the water in his tankard. "But heed my warning: the Blades may say they serve the Dragonborn, but they do not. They never have."

"I figured that much..." I leaned forward in my chair. "So, can you teach me this Shout?"

"No." Arngeir must have caught my next question early, because he added, "I cannot teach it to you because I do not know it."

"Why not?"

He leaned back in his seat. "It is called 'Dragonrend', but its Words of Power are unknown to us. We do not regret this loss; Dragonrend holds no place within the Way of the Voice."

"But I thought you knew all of the Words..." I trailed off. Arngeir sighed.

"But not Dragonrend," he affirmed. "The knowledge of that Shout was lost in the time before history began. Perhaps only its creators ever knew it. But I am not the one to speak of it to you."

I began playing with the binding of the book to occupy myself. "What's so bad about Dragonrend?"

"It was created by those who lived under the unimaginable cruelty of Alduin's Dragon Cult. Their whole lives were consumed with hatred for Dragons, and they poured all their anger and hatred into this Shout." The Greybeard paused, his eyes focusing on the book. "When you learn a Shout, you take it into your very being. In a sense, you become the Shout. In order to learn and use this Shout, you will be taking this evil into yourself."

"So how do I defeat Alduin then? I mean, unless you have a giant flyswatter..."

Arngeir allowed a smile through. Then again, who wouldn't be entertained by that image? "Only Paarthurnax, the master of our order, can answer that question, if he so chooses."

Paarthurnax? The Greybeards mentioned him before, I think... No! It was the tablets on the way up! Um... He was summoned by Kyne to teach the mortals the Way of the Voice or something...

"Why haven't I met Paarthurnax yet?" I asked him. "And isn't he... well, old? Like, really old?"

"He lives in seclusion on the very peak of the mountain," Arngeir told me. "He speaks to us only rarely, and never to outsiders. Being allowed to see him is a great privilege."

"Then I should get to the top of the mountain—."

"Only those whose Voice is strong can find the path." Arngeir stood and gestured for me to do so. "We will teach you a Shout to open the way to Paarthurnax."

I began to follow Arngeir, only to realize that the other three Greybeards (Wulfgar, Borri, and Einarth) had fallen into step beside me. Everyone looked so sullen and grave that we could have been a funeral procession, not going to prepare to see Paarthurnax.

We emerged into the cold sting of the wind of the Greybeards' courtyard, where I had learned the first word of Whirlwind Sprint. The four Greybeards marched onto a dais with a wide fire burning at its centre. A tower stood to our left, likely used to overlook Skyrim by the reclusive monks, and three sets of stairs laid before us. At the very top of those steps, the wind and snow visibly churned. Harshly, too. I'd freeze to death or be blown off the mountain before I reached the summit.

"The path to Paarthurnax lies through this gate," Arngeir intoned, gesturing to the arch at the top of the staircase. "I will show you how to open the way."

Arngeir moved to the head of the fire, closest to the staircase. Einarth stood furthest from the tower, Wulfgar took his place across from Arngeir on the opposite side of the fire, and Borri set himself between the fire and the tower. I stayed near Arngeir. Strangely, even with the roaring fire at my back, I could feel that Arngeir was... warmer.

"Lok," he whispered. Like before, a Word of Power carved itself into the ground in the jagged Dragon script I'd come to recognize. Arngeir moved to the right. "Vah." Another Word appeared in the stone, glowing with ethereal energies. "Koor," Arngeir murmured, revealing the last of the Words of Power beside its brothers.

"Sky", "Spring", and "Summer"... I studied each Word carefully and meticulously. I was pretty happy that I didn't have to learn the entire language. I mean, sure, I'd have to study it, but most of the meanings just popped into my head. Advantage, Dragon soul.

"I will grant you my understanding of Clear Skies," Arngeir said. "This is your final gift from us, Dragonborn. Use it well."

I nodded curtly. "I promise. And I won't forget your help." I inclined my head. "Thank-you all."

If they appreciated my thanks, they didn't let me see it. An orange cloud slowly appeared around Arngeir, wrapping around him delicately, and then it surrounded me. It felt like my mind was expanding with the power Arngeir granted me.

"Clear Skies will blow away the mist, but only for a time." Arngeir's eyes became serious once more. "The path to Paarthurnax is perilous, not to be embarked upon lightly. Keep moving, stay focused on your goal, and you will reach the summit."

"What about the others...?"

The Greybeard nodded gravely. "We will tend to them, and I will let them know of where you will be going. But you must go alone. Paarthurnax is our leader and guide. As Dragonborn, you have a right to see him. Because those inside are your companions, we will treat them with the highest respect, but they will not make this journey with you."

"I... understand."

Arngeir smiled encouragingly. "They will be in High Hrothgar eagerly awaiting your return, I'm sure. But please, take your time. Paarthurnax has much to teach."

And with those words, I was off.