Chapter Fifty:

A War on Dragons

"And now that we have some time alone..." Arngeir sat down at a stone table in the eastern wing and gestured for me to sit opposite. I did so, wondering how he could look so comfortable in a chair that made me wonder if the floor was more comfortable. "What happened with Paarthurnax?"

"You saw his wounds?" I asked.

Arngeir nodded.

"Well, we had a bit of a tussle with Alduin after I used the Elder Scroll in the Time-Wound. Paarthurnax had said something about Alduin sensing the scroll, but I didn't think he'd arrive so quickly."

Arngeir sighed and began tapping his fingers on the table. "Alduin... We heard the Dragonrend Shout from here..." He looked at me. "You defeated him?"

I nodded. "Paarthurnax and I fought him together. When I managed to break through his scales, he escaped." I started drawing circles on the table to keep my hands occupied. "We think he may have retreated to his portal to Sovngarde, so he can feed off the dead there, and come back stronger."

"I feared as much. I thought it was him we saw flying east after your battle."

"He was really strong," I affirmed. "If we can, I'm hoping to capture a Dragon that'll lead us to Alduin. But we need Balgruuf in on this."

Arngeir's eyes lit up in realization. "Ah!" he exclaimed, smiling. "Dragonsreach! There are many difficulties, but I cannot think of a better plan. Although I fear the Jarl may not be easy to persuade."

"That's what I'm worried about," I replied, leaning back in the stone chair. "I may be a Thane of Whiterun, but I'll be asking Balgruuf to lend me his entire castle. And I'm not sure if it's still structurally sound to hold a Dragon after all this time. Not to mention that this will directly endanger Whiterun."

The Greybeard sighed, as if I were a mere child that needed to be taught a life lesson. I frowned at that, but decided to listen to him nonetheless.

"Remember, the Way of the Voice trains your for more than battle," Arngeir told me. "Indeed, we believe that battle is the least of its uses." Yeah, tell that to the Fire Breath Shout I have... "On the topic of the Voice, my fellow Greybeards and I could not help but notice your rather adept knowledge of Draconic."

I rubbed the back of my head. "I... Well, it's like I, uh..." I sighed. "Back when I went into Bleak Falls Barrow, I noticed the Word Wall there. 'Fus' leapt out at me, but I didn't know what it meant until Mirmulnir attacked Whiterun, when I absorbed his soul."

"And that gave way to your understanding of the Voice," Arngeir stated.

"It did. But then I fought Sahloknir. His death was... It was slow. I was talking Draconic to him before I even realized it. Even with the Dragons I've killed, I can still only put bits and pieces together."

The Greybeard sat back. "Then from my understanding, the Dragon soul you carry in your mortal body is a powerful one, indeed. Either that, or it was awakened by the presence of one close to it previously."

I stopped making circles. "What?"

"Every Dragonborn has wielded their Dragon soul since birth. The soul they carry is a Dragon already deceased, unable or unwilling to answer the call of their master, Alduin," Arngeir explained patiently. "Because of this, their souls fly freely until they are either reborn as Dragons, live on in their afterlife, or herald the coming of a new Dragonborn."

"Is there a way to find out which soul I have?"

"A dream, possibly," he answered. "Some memories may have been awakened and are resurfacing, but fear not; they will not take over. The Dragon knows its time is done, and that the Dragonborn's time is now. Knowing the Dragon who gives you the understanding of the Dragon Language makes no difference." I looked down at the table, trying to remember that dream I'd had after Sahloknir. But... I couldn't recall it. Only bits and pieces, but no words. "I was going to ask you, Dragonborn: what do you intend to do with the Dragon Priest, the follower of Alduin?"

"Hm?" My head shot up to Arngeir. "Lokbruniik?"

"Your friend Hiemdall has taken to calling him 'Eduard'."

"Probably someone Hiemdall knew to have a stick up his ass and a volatile personality. I met too many like him back in Anvil..." Arngeir smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Oh, sorry. Monastery. I shouldn't swear."

His smile broadened. "Worry not. High Hrothgar is sanctuary to the Voice, but we do not forsake our own breaths for naught. Now, your decision?"

I stood up, my back unable to stand the stone chair any longer, and wandered towards the bookcase tucked by the corner. "I have to find a way for him to get back. He's made it clear that I'm his enemy, but I think because I helped to treat him he's reserving his spite for me and directing it to Hiemdall."

"I am pleased that he hasn't broken any more of our vases in the last few hours," the Greybeard added. "Having your companions treat him of that poison has offered the other masters some respite, myself included.

"Well, I'm sorry he troubled you." I toyed with a quill I found on the bookshelf. "I can't just leave him here with you though. I know you're capable of defeating him if need be, but I feel as though making you Greybeards responsible for him will complicate things."

"You intend to have him accompany you?" Arngeir pressed, a displeased look crossing his face.

"Better than leaving him here or dropping him off somewhere," I told him. "Besides, if he's so adamant about being my enemy, it's better I keep him around. I have full confidence that the others, Hiemdall especially, will keep a sharp eye on him when I can't."

Master Arngeir seemed to consider my reasoning. He stroked his beard as his eyes fell into thought, and then he nodded slowly.

"Very well," he agreed. "I trust your judgement, Dragonborn, and the Greybeards will honour your decision. When do you leave for Whiterun?"

"In the next few hours," I replied. "If Alduin's gone to Sovngarde, he's gathering his strength, and every hour we waste countless numbers are devoured. We don't really have time for leisure."

The Greybeard used the table as a support to help him stand, and then he bowed his head. "If you have need of any of us, we will always be at your aid. I only hope the plan goes accordingly."

I smiled at him. "We'll find a Dragon, and we'll defeat Alduin. There's no way he'll win."

"I pray that you are right," Arngeir murmured, striding past me and into the hall.

When he was gone, I hung my head. "Me too," I whispered, hoping.

Like I had told Arngeir, a few hours later we were stumbling down the Throat of the World in a heavy snowfall. Lokbruniik ("Eduard", as he preferred to be called since he didn't like how "the Nord" was using his actual name in a context he didn't like) had been either too proud or too bitter to accept a cloak from Aldren. Not like the Vampire needed it, as it was for blending in with us rather than comfort, but it had been refused all the same. Then I remembered the feel of Lokbruniik's robes, and realized it had been a heavy cotton. He didn't seem uncomfortable as we made our way down, at least.

Once we reached Ivarstead, we began following the road to Whiterun on the eastern side of the mountain, since we weren't exactly curious to see if some more bandits had moved into Helgen since we were there last. We got to store our cloaks away once the snow had stopped and begun melting, but then we had to stop at the side of the road to make camp.

Lokbruniik (Eduard?) was less than happy with the accommodations, especially since he had no bedroll of his own. I offered to be on watch for the night while the rest got their sleep, so he could use mine. I'd slept enough at High Hrothgar.

The next morning, we packed our supplies and set off once more for Whiterun. We reached the city at midday, with more than one guard and citizen stopping to gawk at the Dragon Priest with us. Now that I thought about it, in some Nordic crypts there were depictions on how a Dragon Priest would appear. He didn't seem troubled by it, though.

"Where is Jorrvaskr?" he asked suddenly.

I was shocked that he even knew about the place. "In the Wind District here. Up on the hill."

"And is it still made out of a ruddy boat?"

"It is," Hiemdall grumbled, "but its been modified as time's gone on."

"The Five-Hundred Companions are still strong?"

"We're just the Companions now," the Nord answered, and then added, "We're still strong."

Eduard took a few strides forward. "I wouldn't have guessed that these 'Companions' would both lessen their number and recruit lowly minds such as yourself. Disappointing, as Ysgramor and Jeek of the River were both formidable in their day."

I facepalmed as Hiemdall took a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

"I see there are many Fahliille here. I thought your race held quite the dislike of them? Elves."

"Some are still as short-sighted," Hiemdall answered the priest.

Eduard shrugged. "No matter. What was your business here, woman?"

"I need to speak to the Jarl," I told him as I pushed past him. "His palace is the key to getting to Alduin."

He snorted, but said nothing else. Hiemdall seemed to appreciate that. Cha'qim started giggling when Eduard began wandering off, and followed after him, intent to discover whatever he'd set his sights on. Javin followed too, and Aldren left to visit a small house behind Belethor's General Goods. That left Hiemdall, Milos and I to visit the Jarl.

We climbed the steps to Dragonsreach (with all the stairs I'd been climbing, I figured I'd have the most powerful legs in Skyrim) and entered, our eyes much less distracted by the carvings from the first time we'd entered. I managed to spot Balgruuf at the left-hand dining table enjoying his midday meal, but it was Irileth who noticed us first and approached me.

"Thane Greystone," she greeted, extending her hand (which was a vast improvement from the blade she'd extended towards me weeks ago). I grasped it and shook. "We heard you'd been spotted in the city on a few different occasions. But you had business elsewhere?"

"I did," I answered her (mentally cringing at the title she'd greeted me with). "But now my business is here... For the time being."

"With Jarl Balgruuf?"

"Yeah."

She pointed to him. "While he isn't holding court, I'm sure whatever business you have doesn't need to wait. If you're this 'Dragonborn', then coming here ought to mean something."

"Or we're just here to visit you and your cheery disposition, Irileth," Milos remarked with a grin.

The Dunmer crossed her arms at that. "Clearly the Jarl was hasty in giving you a title, since you never managed to state your name."

"If I remember correctly, Taryn didn't either," Milos pointed out.

"Then, unfortunately, my exploits have been larger than yours, which I don't get one bit," I told the Argonian. "Or they just know my name because I'm the Dragonborn."

"Go figure." Milos turned to Irileth. "I'm Hides-His-Heart, but my friends call me Milos."

Irileth's frown deepened. "Thane Hides-His-Heart." She was clearly annoyed with his name, but still needed to address him formally.

"Anyhow... We'd better go see the Jarl..." I grabbed Hiemdall and Milos and yanked them forward past Irileth, who sighed and returned to her post.

"Ah!" the Jarl exclaimed as he saw us approaching. "Thane Greystone! Harbinger! And..." Irileth leaned towards his ear and whispered. "Right. Thane Hides-His-Heart!" Milos rolled his eyes. "What brings you to my home?"

"Put bluntly?" I leaned on the table in front of him. "I need to borrow your palace for a bit to trap a Dragon."

Balgruuf, who had been downing a tankard of ale, nearly spat it out in surprise but managed to reign himself in. "I-I must have misheard you," he professed. "I thought you asked me to help you trap a Dragon in my palace."

"Believe me when I say I wouldn't ask if it was important," I assured him.

Balgruuf looked into his tankard for a moment, swirling the spirits within. "I'm sorry," he answered, "but I can't do it. We'll just have to keep fighting the Dragons as best we can." The Jarl looked up at me, a sturdy furrow in his brow. "What you're asking for is insane. Impossible! You want me to let a Dragon into the heart of my city, with the threat of war on my doorstep?"

"It's the only way to stop the attacks!" I maintained. "War or not, the Dragons are becoming more powerful with every hour wasted!"

He shook his head firmly. "There must be another way. The risk is too great."

I groaned. "Jarl Balgruuf, you need to understand: this threat isn't just about Dragons. It's about the Dragon. Alduin's back, and he's wanting for blood."

Balgruuf's eyes widened. He had to place his tankard onto the table for fear of it spilling over him, his hands were shaking so madly. "Alduin?" the Jarl breathed. "The World-Eater himself? But... how can we fight him? Doesn't his return mean it's the end times?"

"It's only hopeless if we've given up," Milos imparted.

At that, the Jarl clenched his fists to steady them and looked the Argonian dead in the eye. "I didn't say anything about giving up," he declared. "Now, what's this nonsense about trapping a Dragon in my palace?"

"We need to find Alduin before he devours the souls in Sovngarde and becomes more powerful than we can handle," I told him. "Trapping this Dragon will reveal a way into Sovngarde itself to do just that."

The Jarl pushed away from the table and stood, pacing in long strides before us. "I want to help you, Dragonborn," he admitted. "And I will. But I need your help first."

"Name it," I said.

"Ulfric and General Tullius are both just waiting for me to make a wrong move," he informed us. "Do you think they will sit idle while a Dragon is slaughtering my men and burning my city?" He stopped and shot a look directly at me. "No. I can't risk weakening the city while we are under the threat of enemy attack. I'm sorry."

"And if you didn't have to worry about the Empire and the Stormcloaks breathing hot air down your neck?" Milos asked.

"Then I would be glad to help you with your mad Dragon-trapping scheme," he agreed. "But getting both sides to agree to a truce will be difficult at this point. The bitterness has gone too deep." He began stroking his golden beard. "Maybe... hmm... What of the Greybeards?" he suggested. "They are respected by all Nords. High Hrothgar is neutral territory." The Jarl grinned. "If they Greybeards were willing to host a peace council... then maybe Ulfric and Tullius would have to listen."

I smirked. "Leave that to me. While the Greybeards don't involve themselves in wars and politics, I'm sure they'll do what they can against Alduin."

"Aye, Dragonborn. Maybe you can stop the Dragons, and end this war in the bargain."

"We're going to try." I grinned and left, following behind Hiemdall and Milos. As soon as the doors to Dragonsreach were closed behind us, Hiemdall groaned.

"So we have to go to High Hrothgar again?!" he complained. "I'm honoured to be going there, but this is ridiculous!"

"No," I told them. "I'm going back. I want you all to meet me at Sky Haven Temple. I want to tell Esbern what's going on."

Hiemdall groaned a second time. "With Eduard? That stupid 'holier-than-thou' Dragon Priest?"

"He may not survive the trip there," Milos put in. "And even if he does, the Blades will definitely attack him."

I nodded. "Which is why he's coming with me. Keeps him alive long enough for me to get him back to the Merethic Era."

Milos crossed his arms. "Then I'm coming."

"No," I said firmly. "I can handle myself, and the Greybeards didn't return his weapon. He'll get his knickers in a knot if his 'enemy' touches his dagger."

"There's no one protecting you from him when you're asleep," Milos supplied urgently. "If you turn your back on him, he'll try to kill you."

I shook my head. "He won't. He knows I'm his best chance at getting back, whether he likes it or not. Besides, even if he did, I assume that somebody's going to be pissed enough to chase him down. And if he doesn't take off his mask, he'll be an easy find."

"Unless he hides in one of those old Dragon Priest cities," Hiemdall concluded.

I took a deep breath. "Look; you need to trust me. I can do this. And I know how to watch my own back. I'll meet you all at Sky Haven Temple, all right?"

Milos and Hiemdall exchanged glances, but eventually, they relented. "All right," Milos agreed softly. "Just keep safe. We don't know how many Vargrs are wandering Skyrim, and we don't know what this guy's gonna do when you two are alone, so keep safe. Promise?"

"Promise," I affirmed, and then clapped Milos on the shoulder. "I'll collect Eduard and buy him a bedroll while I'm at it. It'll be interesting to see if he's ever carried anything in his life."

"I doubt it," Hiemdall grumbled. "He's probably afraid he'll break a nail."

"Mhm." Milos nodded. "Or he'll throw out his back halfway through the trip, maybe less."

"We'll see," I told the two, and then we made our way down into the market.