Chapter Fifty-One:

Clear Differences

I found Eduard by Jorrvaskr on the platform that held the Skyforge. Eorlund Grey-Mane was hard at work at the ancient landmark, and Eduard seemed particularly intrigued with Eorlund's smithy, as well as with the smith himself. If I didn't know better (which I actually didn't), I'd have said that Eorlund enjoyed the attention.

Eduard approached as Eorlund extracted the blade he was working on from the fires and began hammering it on the anvil. Eduard brought his hands from his back and made to stroke his chin, but when he realized he was wearing his mask still, he began fingering the tip of one of the tusks that decorated it.

When Eorlund stuck the burning blade into a barrel of water, Eduard approached yet closer.

"Like the blades you're seeing?" Eorlund asked. "They can only be bought here, since I'm the only one who can give honour to Skyforge steel."

I saw Eduard cross his arms. "The metal would be stronger if you stopped working it like that."

Eorlund stopped and looked at the Dragon Priest, a quizzical look passing before his eyes. "You a smith?" he asked.

"In my spare time," Eduard admitted. "May I?"

"No." Eorlund began hammering at the metal again.

The priest drew himself up. "I have no desire to use a weapon not forged by my own two hands. I will pay you for the use of your forge."

Eorlund placed the weapon in the fire and frowned at Eduard. "How do you intend to do that?"

Eduard reached into what I assumed was his pockets, but then paused. "Hm..." He looked over and caught me snickering at him. "The wench will pay for it."

"I don't have the money to pay for one of Eorlund's works," I interjected, trying not to lose my cool from the blatant insult. "Besides, we're heading back to High Hrothgar to get your dagger. You can handle another trip without a weapon."

The old Nord stepped away from his forge, eyes locked on Eduard. "I don't know that girl well, coward, but she was the former Harbinger's daughter. I ain't about to let you insult my friend's honour like that."

I hurried up the steps and quickly stood in-between the two, addressing Eorlund: "We don't know that. There are such things as coincidences, you know."

"I believe in fate, and the gods' plans," Eorlund replied, but he stepped away and back to his forge.

"Why call me a coward, old one?" Eduard asked, moreso intrigued than actually hurt by the words (which, I assumed, he wasn't anyhow).

"I don't know one person who doesn't wear a mask to keep themselves from others, especially in this gods-damned war. But I ain't never met anyone who wore one so blatantly."

The priest seemed to consider this. "Is it cowardice or intelligence that keeps me wearing it?"

"Is it bravery or foolishness that you do?"

"Touché." Eduard looked down at me. "I like this fellow. What is his name?"

"Eorlund Grey-Mane," the old Nord answered. "And I'm but a simple blacksmith."

If the priest could be smiling at any time, he probably was then. But he turned on his heel and descended down the steps to Jorrvaskr.

"Anyhow, you said we would be returning to the monastery?" Eduard inquired once he'd reached the bottom. "We just came from there. What draws us back?"

"First, your dagger." I began walking ahead of him and peered over the short stone fence to see the others leaving already. "Second, I need to ask Arngeir if he'll host a peace council between the Empire and the Stormcloaks. To defeat the Dragons, I need Whiterun to be safe... for the time being."

"Alduin cannot be defeated, Dovahkiin," Eduard said matter-of-factly. "He is the son of Akatosh, and it is his destiny to end this world. At most, you can only delay the inevitable."

"Any amount of time I can give should be fine for people to rally and find a way to cast him from this place permanently."

Eduard shook his head. "Fools, the lot of you joorre. Mortals. Always prattling and always fighting."

I rolled my eyes and led him down the steps of Jorrvaskr. "You're a mortal too, you know. Last I checked you didn't have a pair of leathery wings for arms, horns or a tail."

"And yet, I still am far more enlightened. Your mind could not possibly comprehend the knowledge I have seen in my lifetime."

"And how long has your lifetime been? I need to know so I can more accurately insult you for insulting me."

Eduard stopped on the last step. "Since when have I ever insulted you, woman? Clearly you have a desire for me to become the villain in your mighty tale." I had to take a deep breath so I wouldn't snap. I knew too many people like him back in Anvil... "I suppose it would make for a better song, perhaps, should you either succeed or fail."

I ignored him and kept walking. "Are you really so threatened by me that you need to berate me?"

"Threatened? Not at all." Eduard followed, irregardless of the conversation. "I merely feel the need to inform you of your every flaw, and your destiny of failure."

"This coming from the guy dressed like a voluptuous mammoth."

Eduard seemed to consider that and began playing with the tusks on his mask again. When we passed through the gates of Whiterun and were on our way to High Hrothgar, I had to look back over my shoulder to make sure he was still following. He was.

"Look," I said quietly, "I'm sorry for... I'm sorry you're not back in your time. I can't understand what you feel, but taking it out on others isn't going to get you back any faster. You need to learn to accept that stuff happens that you can't control, and move on. I'm going to try to find a way to get you back, but I need you to cooperate, okay?"

I heard Eduard speed his pace until he was walking beside me. I'd have been much happier riding in a wagon, but Milos and co. took it to Sky Haven Temple.

"So, what happened that you couldn't control and needed to 'move on'?" he asked tentatively.

"For starters?" I shrugged. "I was raised in Anvil—which is in Cyrodiil, a province over from Skyrim—without parents. An orphanage, actually. That Argonian with me, Milos? He was there too. He's like my brother."

Eduard nodded.

"Then I had to flee Cyrodiil because of a trick. Got my first scar—this one, here," I said, pointing to the one over my eye. "The one here," I continued, tracing my finger down the one I'd gotten from Arnand Bienne, "was given to me by that bastard afterward."

"He followed you here?" Eduard inquired.

I nodded. "He did. And I eventually killed him."

"Good." He stretched casually. "Tricksters and deceivers deserve everything they receive." He turned his mask towards me. "Anything else?"

"I don't want to be the Dragonborn," I added. "Ever since I got to Skyrim, stuff's been happening to me. Being Dragonborn is almost the icing on the cake. Didn't even know until the Jarl in Whiterun asked Milos and I to take down a nearby Dragon. We almost died..."

Eduard absently scratched his arm. "Before priesthood, the sons of a Dragon Priest must learn academics beyond their current reasoning and skills to outclass all others. We do not even know who our fathers are until we were deemed worthy by them. If we were not, we were killed."

I stared at him. "What about your mother?"

"I have no idea whom she is, nor do I care to know," he said sourly. "There are women in Bromjunaar to accustom the priests' every physical need. We are all born of those women." He swivelled his head to look at me. "Is this what this is about? You desire to have intercourse?"

My face suddenly drained of all colour, yet turned as red as it could at the same time. "N-NO!" I exclaimed frantically. "Gods no! That's...! Ugh!" I marched ahead of him, unwilling to try to defend myself from such a blatant thing (even though it was completely untrue).

If Eduard's face ever could support a sly grin behind his mask, I was nearly certain he was wearing one as he caught up with me. "Am I to believe that you have not laid with a man yet?"

"Shut-up!" I snarled, glaring at him. "You shouldn't talk about a woman's chastity so casually!"

"A virtuous Dovahkiin? This will certainly make for a good song. 'The Virgin-Born.'"

"Shh!"

"I don't see what the trouble is," he offered, and then his mask looked up and down to examine me. "Hm. Never mind. There are several faults and troubles. Clearly you were bestowed with only the Thu'um."

My face reddened further. "Why am I even going back to get your dagger when your words are weapon enough...?"

"Ah. Thank-you," he replied, probably not aware of the insult there too.

The rest of the trip was mostly quiet (any attempts at conversation from Eduard's end I immediately shut down, since I had no desire to have to go through his worded form of Oblivion that he'd seemed to have specially crafted for me). And because it was just the two of us, we moved much faster, and ended up reaching Ivarstead by evening at our quickened pace.

Late that night, we had finished the climb to High Hrothgar. Eduard seemed completely at ease with all the strenuous physical activity, which surprised me, considering he seemed like he hadn't done a day of hard work in all his life. As soon as we opened the doors to the monastery, Arngeir, who had been meditating in the centre of the foray, looked up. From the way his brow furrowed, he was confused because of how quick we were at returning.

"Is something the matter?" Arngeir asked, slowly pushing himself to his feet as Eduard and I strode to meet him (although Eduard was quick to wander off).

"Arngeir, this is gonna sound strange, but I need your help in stopping the war," I said quickly.

The Greybeard frowned. "You misunderstand our authority," he told me. "The Greybeards have never involved themselves in political affairs."

I took a deep breath. "Jarl Balgruuf is only willing to lend me Dragonsreach if he isn't threatened by both sides."

"I see..." Arngeir began pacing. "The Dragon will lead you to Alduin, but without the Jarl's help..."

"The Imperials and the Stormcloaks have Nords on each side," I told him. "Nords respect the Greybeards. Even those who aren't Nords respect you. They'll listen to you."

Arngeir halted his pacing and turned to face me. From the look in his eyes, he'd come to a decision. "Paarthurnax has made the decision to help you. This is the road we have to walk. Even the Greybeards must bend to the winds of change, it seems." Arngeir sighed. He clearly didn't like the idea, regardless. "So be it. Tell Ulfric and General Tullius that the Greybeards wish to speak to them." He turned on his heel and climbed the steps to the far doors. "We will see if they still remember us."

Eduard was clearly annoyed with me that we had stayed hardly an hour to recuperate before heading down the mountain once more. Rather than take the road from Ivarstead to Whiterun, I decided it was time for some cross-country time. We used the night to pass by Helgen undetected by the new residents (which had clearly used the bodies we left from before to try to warn off others, though I doubted it would work long) and passed Lake Ilinalta by sunrise. Tired, we then decided to rest for a few hours. I had decided not to shut my eyes though, since Milos and Hiemdall's warning's about the Dragon Priest ran fresh in my mind. I took the watch while he slept, hoping I wouldn't accidentally fall asleep.

When the hours had passed and we'd eaten some dried deer jerky to keep our energy up (Eduard walked somewhere else altogether just so he could move his mask enough to eat), we set out again for Sky Haven Temple. I could see the Karthspire from where we were, and it wasn't long before we found the road to take there. We avoided the village of Rorikstead (mostly because I didn't want to chance running into another Dragon), and eventually made it to the Karthspire. There were no Forsworn guarding the path that time.

Without having to solve riddles or dance along pressure plates, the climb to Sky Haven Temple was relatively smooth. Eduard seemed particularly interested in the gigantic bust of Reman Cyrodiil that opened once we got close to reveal the stairs into the Blades base. And then when we passed all the bas-reliefs, Eduard was immediately drawn to Alduin's Wall. The others were sitting at the long table nearby and watched him gravitate towards the ancient sculpt.

"Where're the Blades?" I asked Milos.

Milos, with one hand firmly on a tankard while simultaneously draining it of mead, pointed up the stairs.

"Courtyard?" I asked.

He struggled to nod, but eventually did. I hurried up the steps to the outer courtyard, which revealed a cloudy grey sky and the two Blades at the furthermost part of the area. I quietly made my way to them, wondering if I should interrupt their conversation or not.

"I used to dream of it," Esbern was saying as he watched the mountain opposite the Karthspire. "In the dream, I was standing... someplace high up... a tower, or a mountain. It was always just before dawn. The whole world was in darkness. Then came a flash of light—just on the horizon, within the clouds that mark the border between worlds. It could have been lightning, but there was no thunder. In the dream, the sense of foreboding grew, but I could never wake up." Esbern paused. "Then it came again, this time more distinct. Closer. Definitely not lightning now. It was orange—brilliant orange, the colour of hearth and dawn. And a sound, too. Distinct and indistinct. Not thunder... Something else. Something I should recognize, but in the dream I cannot place it."

The old Blade looked to his colleague. "I want to leave my high place," he told her, "to seek shelter. From what, I don't yet know. In the manner of dreams, I cannot escape. I'm forced to wait and watch." Esbern cast his gaze on the valley below. "Then, finally, realization and horror arrive together. The orange is flame, heat. The sound a roar, a challenge in their ancient tongue. But now it's too late for escape. The Dragon is upon me—fire and darkness descending like a thunderbolt. And not just any Dragon, but the Dragon—Alduin, the World-Eater, the Dragon who devours both the living and the dead. And then I would wake up, and hope that it was just a dream... But know that it was not."

I saw Delphine purse her lips, sympathy for her fellow Blade clouding her eyes, but then she noticed me and everything became professional once more. Esbern wandered off from beneath the stone monument where they stood and sat against one of the pillars while Delphine strode over to me. I hadn't noticed her Blades armour before, but it appeared to match the Akaviri katana she'd always had at her side well.

"What's happened?" she asked me, crossing her arms. "Did you find a way to learn the Dragonrend Shout?"

"Yeah," I replied. "I got it and I used it on Alduin, but he escaped. We think back to Sovngarde."

"Esbern should be able to help," Delphine offered. "He's spent his whole life pouring over every old book he could find about Dragons and that prophecy. He's been digging around the records the Blades left here, too. But we can talk about that later."

The finality of her statement I certainly didn't register, but Delphine wandered back into the temple nonetheless. Shrugging, I approached the older (and certainly kinder) Blade.

He'd appeared to be lost in thought. As soon as he saw me, his eyes lit up. "Did you find the Elder Scroll?" he asked promptly. "What happened when you took it back to the Throat of the World?"

"Well, I managed to beat Alduin, but he escaped before I could totally kill him," I explained. "I need to find him."

"He must have returned to Sovngarde to feed on the souls of the dead," Esbern said matter-of-factly. "If you don't find him soon, he'll return, stronger than ever!"

"I have a plan," I told him. "I'm going to use Dragonsreach to trap a Dragon and have him take me to a portal to Sovngarde."

Esbern leaned against the pillar and scratched his balding head. "The Jarl's palace in Whiterun? Ah, yes... The old story about King Olaf's pet Dragon. Ingenious!" Well, Paarthurnax was the one who came up with it... "Although... It might be difficult to persuade the Jarl to allow you to use his palace as a Dragon trap... I'm sure you'll manage, though. If you can defeat the World-Eater, surely sweet-talking the Jarl of Whiterun isn't beyond you."

"There's something he wants me to do for him first, but I've basically assured the palace otherwise," I responded.

He nodded slowly, and then regarded me gravely. "I'm afraid there's a further problem," he added. "A serious one."

"More serious than trying to find Alduin?"

"I've discovered who the Greybeards' leader really is," Esbern told me, a knowing look in his eyes.

And I knew that look—he was wondering if I already knew. "He's a Dragon," I affirmed, "but he's helped me time and again. He even engaged Alduin in combat and was wounded because of it."

"All well and good, but did you know that he was Alduin's chief lieutenant in ancient times? Responsible for terrible atrocities? It's true that his crimes are long in the past, but justice does not count the passage of years." Esbern began tracing Akaviri runes into the dirt. "The Blades have been hunting him for centuries, but he was protected by the Greybeards and then the emperors. Justice demands that he die for his crimes. Until he is dead, I'm afraid my oath as a Blade prevents me from offering you aid and comfort. Justice can be harsh, but it is still justice. Paarthurnax deserves to die."

"That's like saying the Divine Crusader ought to be executed for murdering the elves," I countered. "Or that Tiber Septim should have been rightly murdered for usurping the Imperial throne."

"Paarthurnax was the author of many atrocities during the Dragon War—crimes great enough to be remembered for thousands of years. True, he turned traitor and helped overthrow the Dragon Cult, but that does not excuse or expiate his previous deeds. Whether or not he has truly repented or merely acted to save himself, justice demands that he pay with his life."

"Make your choice, Dragonborn," Delphine said as she leaned on the pillar Esbern sat against. "You're either with us or against us."

I crossed my arms, glaring at her. "I don't see why he needs to die. He helped the joorre defeat the Dragon Cult! Mortals."

Delphine raised an eyebrow at the use of the Dragon tongue. "Here's the big picture: he helped Alduin enslave our ancestors. He may have betrayed Alduin in the end, but that makes him worse, not better. We can't afford to give Paarthurnax the opportunity to betray us in turn, and return to his old master."

"He was wounded in the fight against him!" I exclaimed. "Paarthurnax won't betray us! Why would he turn against Alduin and teach the Way of the Voice?! Why would he continue to do so?! Why would he wait to age and become weaker when he could have defeated us with ease?!"

"I don't know his reasons, and frankly I don't give a damn," Delphine said with a nonchalant shrug. "But until Paarthurnax is dead, we have nothing to talk about. You and your companions should leave. Especially the one with the Dragon Priest mask." She spied Dragonbane at my hip. "And maybe you should leave that as well. For real Dragonslayers."

"Excuse me, but how many Dragons have you killed since Alduin's return to Tamriel?" I put my hand on Dragonbane. "Besides, this was taken from Sky Haven Temple when you two were willing to help me with all this Alduin crap. If I give up my sword I may as well just lie down and let Alduin walk all over me like a mudcrab."

Delphine met my glare. "You should go," she grumbled.

I pushed past her. "Gladly," I replied snidely.

"Don't trip and die on your way out."

"Don't get pissed on by a Dragon. Or thrown around. Who knows? They might actually chase after you in a game of 'Fetch' with that stick up your ass."