She was getting restless.
It was time to be on the move once more.
She looked back at her last journal entry as she finished packing up the rest of her small possessions; if anyone were to find or read that little black book, well... Clear didn't know what she would do. It held her life in the yellowed pages. It held stories that were just unimaginable for one person.
Yet, although dangerous to keep her journal, in a way it was her only friend. The little black hand-bound book in her slender hands had been her only friend in the darkest of hours, its pages her only true listener to her tale.
Clear sighed, as she had been doing so much lately, as she safely stowed it away in her pack.
Whiterun was calling her.
She had stocked up on supplies the day before so Clear was free to leave at dawn, her favourite time of the day.
Silently, footfalls falling softly on the mossy cobblestone and dirt path, Clear left the outskirts of Riverwood to traverse quietly down the winding path to Whiterun.
Never saying goodbye; that is the way it has always been.
Just as the path wound east to run along the gushing rapids of the gradual waterfall of the river, Clear kept to the shadows as a group of Imperial soldiers passed by her, Stormcloak prisoner bound behind.
That was her not too long ago.
Clear couldn't help but shake her red head as the thought of 'Naive human fools,' flickered across her mind.
No. She must not be judgemental. This was a new era, times had changed and that war was over.
It was cold; Clear registered absently as her fur-wrapped feet carried her down the winding path. Of course it was cold, she was in Skyrim. However did she end up in this province of all places?
So far from home...
Clear shook her head more forcibly, as if to physically rid herself from her brooding.
It was age, her old age. That's what she put her morose thoughts down to.
After a while, the wood elf spied windmills in the horizon and the path became steeper still.
She turned left at the crossroads and noted that a rather quaint building was to her side; Honningbrew Meadery was its name, but that wasn't all that caught her attention.
There was a giant of all creatures, wandering too close to the mill and three people were attacking it.
Clear paused at the gate to watch.
There were two women and one massive hulk of a man.
The larger of the two women was shooting countless arrows into the creatures' legs whilst her male companion went at it with his steel sword. The smaller female seemed to hang back slightly, chancing a blow every now and then.
Eventually the poor creature fell to its demise with a triumphant roar from the larger of the women.
Then they spotted her.
The small elf tensed as they made their way over to where she was standing, they had evidently seen her watching.
"Well, that's taken care of. No thanks to you." The larger woman, who had white war paint smeared across her face shot sharply at her.
Clear's eyes narrowed a fraction.
"You didn't look like you needed the help." The elf stated quietly with a reserved voice.
"Certainly not, but a true warrior would have relished the opportunity to take on a giant. That's why I'm here, with my shield-brothers." The woman with war paint said, pride practically coming out of here ears.
Clear had to bite her tongue for a reply, instead settled with, "What's a shield-brother?"
They all looked at her like she was a child. Was that a bad question? The large Nord with long black hair spoke up, in a kinder tone than the woman's.
"An outsider, eh? Never heard of the Companions? And order of warriors, we are brothers and sisters in honour and show up to solve problems if the coin is good." He explained with a genuine smile on his broad features.
'Much like the Fighters Guild, then?' She was tempted to say, but doubted any of them would know what she was talking about.
Clear never formally ran with the Fighters Guild; however she did do a few odd jobs with them in Morrowind. She did not know the land well and could use some intel about the area, so the small elf was presented with an opportunity.
"Can I join you?" She asked softly, searching each members face intently.
"Not for me to say. It's Kodlak Whitemane up in Jorvasker who you want to talk to. The old man's got a good sense for people. He can look you in the eyes and tell your worth. If you go to him, good luck." The large man said with a radiant beam upon his face has he held his hand out towards her.
"Farkas," He said as an introduction as the elf put her small hand in his and received a surprisingly gentle handshake.
"Clear," She said to the now named stranger, Farkas, who's smile got even wider.
"Well then Clear, this is Aela and Ria my shield-sisters." He introduced, motioning to the face-painted woman with a sour face first and then the smaller one who waved slightly at her name.
Clear dipped her head in greeting.
"Hope to see you in Jorvasker soon, little elf." Farkas said with one last wave as Aela promptly dragged him towards the main gates.
'How rude,' Clear thought absently as she leant against the meadery gate, watching them walk up the road. She locked her gaze to the male companion's large retreating back. That man had seen some horrors in his past; Clear could see it in his silver glinted eyes, no matter how hard he tried to hide it with happy smiles.
Also, she noticed something else, it was very faint but it was still there. Like a lingering scent or a half-forgotten memory...but it was something she recognized, something familiar.
She could see it in the woman, Aela too. Stronger in her, massively so. Yet the smaller female was completely void of this...feeling? Scent? Aura?
Clear had much to think on.
As she reached the towering main gates of Whiterun, one of the city's guards blocked her path.
"Halt! City's closed with the dragon about. Official business only!" He spat with hateful prejudice, obviously thinking her of Thalmor kin. Clear ignored him and sent him a cold stare.
"Riverwood calls for the Jarls aid."
"Riverwood's in danger too? You better go in. You'll find the Jarl in Dragonsreach, at the top of the hill." He said after a moment's pause, stepping aside to let her though with the sense to look slightly abashed at his previous behaviour.
Bowing her head softly in thanks, the lithe elf passed through the great oak doors and into the city.
Clear instantly came to the conclusion that she liked Whiterun. There was a quant bustle of life all around her and although life evidently seemed hard, the citizens around her looked content and safe.
As the small elf walked through the lower quarter of the city, she marvelled at the beautiful craftsmanship that had gone into the wood and stonework of the cozy thatched buildings around town. It was nothing compared to elven work, but then again, hardly anything was in her opinion.
Clear allowed a small smile to herself at that thought.
She climbed the stone steps which were lined with streaming water glistening in the sun, to the upper quarter. Her attention instantly snapped to a large dead winding tree in the centre of the square. She had no idea what it signified to the people of the city, or if it meant anything at all, but nature growing in a place full of stone lightened Clear's mood somewhat.
It was little things like that which made her proud of her heritage.
Finally, she got to Dragonsreach. As she entered the long hall, a warm open fire greeted her senses, heating her cold bones. The high ceiling was supported by rows of tall wooden pillars and Clear could not help making the resemblance of the architecture to that of the Skall village hall, how it was over two hundred years ago.
As she glided up the steps towards what she guessed was the throne of the Jarl, she spied a balding man and female Dunmer in heated debate with a blonde Nord slouched in the throne
"My Lord, please. This is no time for rash action. I just think we need more information before we act." Clear heard the scrawny bald man say, before a dark elf face and drawn sword invaded her vision.
"What is the meaning of this interruption? Jarl Balgruf is not receiving visitors." The dark elf snapped at her haughtily. Clear narrowed her eyes at the woman.
"Gerdur sent me. Riverwood is in danger." The red headed elf spoke smoothly, head raised high with an air of power which made the other woman step back slightly.
"As Housecarl, my job is to deal with all the dangers that threaten the Jarl and his people, so you have my attention. Now, explain yourself." The Dunmer snapped, trying to enforce her superiority.
"A dragon attacked Helgen." Clear said simply, not liking the woman's attitude.
"You know about Helgen?" The Dunmer dropped he guard altogether. "The Jarl will want to speak to you personally, approach." With that Clear took a few steps forward to face the Jarl while the dark elf resumed her position to his right.
"So, you were at Helgen? You saw this dragon with your own eyes?" Jarl Balgruf asked with curiosity sparking in his dark eyes as he looked down at her small form.
"The dragon destroyed Helgen and last I saw it was heading this way." Clear said softly, deciding to leave the parts out about the Imperials trying to execute her and the strange voices in her head.
"By Ysmir, Irileth was right!" The Jarl exclaimed, sitting up straight and turned to the man besides him. "What do you say now, Proventius? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our own walls? Against a dragon?"
Clear tried not to smirk at that. The Jarl seemed to have a fool for an adviser if the bald man thought a wall could stop the mighty beast she saw a couple of days ago.
"My Lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once." The dark elf, Irileth said whilst stepping forward. "It's in the most immediate danger, if that dragon is lurking in the mountains..."
"The Jarl of Falkreach will view that as provocation!" Proventius cut in furiously, "He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him! We should not..."
"Enough!" The Jarl shouted, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I'll not stand by while a dragon burns down my hold and slaughters my people! Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once!"
"Yes my Jarl," Irileth saluted and walked away fiercely.
"If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my duties." Proventius said, looking offended.
"That would be best." The Jarl breathed deeply with fire in his eyes, which then snapped down to Claire and softened slightly.
"Well done. You sought me out on your own initiative. You've done Whiterun a service and I won't forget it."
Clear just smiled back elegantly in response. She liked this Jarl. He put his people first, like a true ruler should.
"There is another thing you could do for me, suitable for someone of your particular talents, perhaps." He gave her a pointed look, as he knew there was more to the little elf that met the eye. Clear stiffened slightly.
However, the Jarl laughed it off and rose from his seat, offering her his arm. "Come; let's go find my court wizard, Farengar. He's been looking into a matter related to the dragons and rumours of dragons."
Gracefully, she took his offered arm and let him lead her down the steps, around the fire and through an archway to a side room where they were greeted with the sight of a scroll-strewn table and a hooded figure garbed in dark purple.
"Farengar, I think I have found someone who can help with your dragon project, go ahead and fill her in with the details." The Jarl said, unlinking his arm from hers and turned to leave. Clear smiled as she watched him go. He was one of the few humans that seemed good though and through.
"So the Jarl thinks you can be of use to me?" The wizard said excitedly, causing Clear's attention to snap back towards him. "Oh yes, he must be referring to my research of the dragons. Yes, I could use someone to fetch something for me. Well, when I say fetch, I actually mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient tablet that may or may not actually be there."
Clear laughed softly at that, which made the wizards eyes twinkle slightly from behind the shadows of his cowl.
"What does this have to do with the dragons?" Clear asked softly; keen to gain as much knowledge as possible having never come across them in her long years on Nirn.
"Ah, no mere brute mercenary, but a thinker, perhaps even a scholar?" The wizard summarised happily. "You see, when the stories of the dragons began to circulate, many discarded them as mere fantasies, rumours, impossibilities. One sure mock of a fool is to dismiss anything that falls out of stride of his experiences of being impossible."
Clear nodded her head at that. Rambling though it was, the eccentric wizard did talk sense.
"But I began to search for information about dragons. Where had they gone all those years ago? And where are they coming from?"
"So, what do you need me to do?" Clear asked, interrupting his rambling before it went on a tangent.
"I, er, learned of a certain stone tablet said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow – a 'Dragonstone' said to contain a map of dragon burial sites. Find it and bring it to me." With that, Clear smirked softly and pulled something from her pack.
"Oh, you don't mean this old stone?" She handed it over, observing his positively gleeful face carefully.
"Ah! The Dragonstone of Bleak Falls Barrow! You already found it! You are cut from a different cloth than the usual brutes the Jarl foists on me."
"So, I got you the Dragonstone – what next?"
"That's where your job ends and mine begins. The work of the mind, sadly undervalued in Skyrim." The wizard went on to pour over the tablet when Clear noticed the dark elf from before, Irileth run in to the room looking frantic.
"Farengar, you need to come at once! A dragon has been sighted nearby! You should come too!" The dark elf added in an afterthought, looking straight at Clear.
"A dragon! How exciting! Where was it seen? What was it doing?" Farengar asked excitedly, almost jumping up and down on the spot.
"I'd take this a little bit more seriously if I were you. If a dragon decides to attack Whiterun, I don't know if we can stop it." Irileth snapped at him as they ran though the hall, up some stairs and into and drawing room on the second floor where the Jarl was stood with a young Whiterun guard.
"So Irileth tells me you came from the western watch tower?" Jarl Balgruf was saying to the young guard, who upon further inspection, Clear noticed was shaking slightly.
"Yes my Lord." The guard answered in a heartbeat. Irileth placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort.
"Tell him what you told me, about the dragon." Irileth encouraged him, squeezing his shoulder slightly.
"Uh, that's right. We saw it coming from the south. It was fast...faster than anything I've ever seen." The guard answer shakily. Clear cast a sympathetic gaze over him. She had seen plenty of innocent men like him caught in the crossfire over the years.
"What did it do? Is it attacking the watch tower?" The Jarl asked, worry lined in his rigid features.
"No my Lord, it was just circling overhead when I left. I never ran so fast in my life... I thought it would come after me for sure." The guard trembled notably and could talk no longer.
"Good work son. We'll take it from here. Head down to the barracks for some food and rest, you've earned it." Jarl Balgruf said warmly, clapping the lad on his back before he went on his way.
"Irileth, you better gather some guardsmen and get down there." The Jarl then ordered, face deadly serious again.
"I've already ordered my men to muster near the main gate." She replied sharply, though Clear could detect nervousness in her demeanour.
"Good. Don't fail me." The Jarl then turned to Claire, his features softening once more.
"There's no time to stand on ceremony my friend. I need your help again." The Jarl said somewhat tiredly, his age showing though his dark eyes. "I want you to go with Irileth and help her fight this dragon. You survived Helgen; you have more experience with dragons than anyone here."
'More experience with surviving than anyone here more like.' The elf thought darkly but quickly pushed those thoughts away as she continued to listen to the Jarl.
"But, I haven't forgotten the service you did for me in retrieving the Dragonstone for Farengar. As a token of my esteem, I have instructed Avenicci that you are now allowed to purchase property in the city." Jarl Balgruf finished, smiling warmly down at her.
She had many homes over the years, her favourite being the little cottage just west of Pelagiad in Vvardenfell. But that was gone now, just like everything else. Why would a house in Whiterun be any different from all those before?
Clear's attention was snapped back to the conversation at hand when the wizard Farengar spoke up suddenly.
"I should come along. I would very much like to see this dragon!"
"No, I can't afford to lose both of you. I need you here working on ways to defend the city against the dragon." The Jarl said sharply, though Clear could see that he cared deeply for his Court Wizard and Housecarl.
"As you command." Farengar answered, leaving with a downwards glance. The Jarl then rounded on Irileth.
"One last thing Irileth; this isn't a death or glory mission. I need to know what we are dealing with." Jarl Balgruf told the dunmer meaningfully, shooting her a pointed look.
"Don't worry my Lord; I am the very soul of caution."
Clear doubted that very much.
And so, the rushed meeting was over and Clear found herself tailing after the dunmer at top speed – grateful the other elf was not as slow as the humans and could keep speed with her – and met Irielth's guards at the same gate she entered the city.
"Here's the situation." Irileth explained to the nervous guard of twelve as Clear gracefully circled behind them, taking in their scared postures that they we trying so hard to hide.
The elf shook her head slightly. She hoped they all made it out alive.
"A dragon is attacking the western watchtower." Muttering and gasping ensued so Irileth raised her voice a little. "You heard right, I said a dragon. I don't much care where it came from, or who sent it. But I do know is that it made the mistake of attacking Whiterun!" She near-on shouted, fire blazing in her red eyes.
The guards still looked unsure.
"But Housecarl...how can we fight a dragon?" One of them spoke up.
"That's a fair question. None of us have ever seen a dragon before, or expected to face one in battle. But we are honour bound to fight it, even if we fail. This dragon is threatening our homes, our families! Could you call yourself Nords if you ran from this monster? Are you going to let me face this thing on my own?!" Irileth shouted, raising her sword.
"No!" The guards rallied loudly, Irielth's fierceness reflecting back on them.
"We're so dead..." Clear overhead one guard mutter quietly, making a small smile grace her features.
"It's more than our honour at stake here. Think of it, the first dragon seen in Skyrim since the last age..."
The small elf had now drowned out the Housecarl's pep-talk of honour and motivation and cast a worried glance at the horizon.
The sun was setting over Whiterun which cast a fiery glow over the harsh terrain and cold stone. Something was coming. Clear could sense it. The future didn't bode well for Skyrim, yet Clear did not yet know what part she would play in its fate.
She ran with the Whiterun Guards and Irileth, across the ragged plains of Whiterun towards the tower. She sensed that the whole group seemed tense; however the red haired elf couldn't find it in her to feel nervous. She was so used to facing off with mighty foes, but she held no delusion that she was invincible. She would be a fool if she thought that.
"No sign of any dragon right now, but it sure looks like he's been here." Irileth said as they took cover behind a particularly large rocky outcrop, surveying the burnt ruins of the watchtower.
"I know it looks bad, but we've got to figure out what happened and if that dragon is still skulking about somewhere. Spread out and search for survivors, we need to know what we are dealing with." The Housecarl commanded and the group scattered.
Clear moved away from the group and cautiously approached the front of the watchtower. The charred grass crunched under her soft footing and silently she drew her magnificent bow, arrow notched at the ready. She could hear the other guards blundering around in the distance, muttering to one another, cursing their fate. They were so noisy, like children stumbling around in the dark.
She paused at the foot of the burnt tower and closed her emerald eyes. She exhaled softly and listened to the deadly quiet land around her, feeling the life force of every blade of grass, reading the signs of what happened to the area.
She sensed a disturbance in the winds, far off to the west. Her eyes snapped open.
"Dragon to the west!" Clear shouted and leapt around the side of the tower with her bow aimed at the ready at the rapidly growing black shadow in the sky.
Their human eyes took a few moments to spot where the beast was, but when they did, chaos ensued.
"That's it! Bring that bastard down!" Irileth screamed, trying to rally her scared forces.
Clear blocked everyone out, focusing intently on the black mark on the horizon. With a 'woosh' she let lose her iron arrow into the night. Instantly, she notched another arrow and loosed another. Her arrows met their mark with an agonizing roar that echoed in the distance.
She had made it angry.
The ground shook beneath her feet and her hair whipped around her like a wild mane as the mighty beast swooped down towards them – yet Clear kept her balance.
Drawing another arrow, she ran up one of the rocky outcrops and leapt to the sky. Clear held her breath as the beast hurtled closer towards her and at the last moment loosed an arrow right between its scaly eyes.
The beast screamed in pain as it lost balance and collided with the hard ground, taking the small elf with it.
Clear felt pain. Her world had been turned upside down. Then suddenly with an echoing mighty roar, the world was now on fire around her. She tried to stumble to her feet, but her head was dizzy from the colossal collision with the dragon.
She opened her eyes wide, willing the blurriness to go away an as it subsided she saw the now grounded dragon snap and tear away at the Whiterun troops who were now all but running for cover.
Then it looked at her. Right at her, just like the magnificent black dragon did in Helgen. She knew what would be coming next and didn't stop to watch the beast's colossal maw open as she leapt behind a upturned boulder, shielding herself from the white hot stream of fire that was being directed her way.
Her breathing became heavy as the fire was suffocating her. She had to end this somehow, and she had to end it fast. Clear peered around the bolder to spy Irileth going at the dragon furiously pretty much on her own and without thinking, Clear took off.
She sprinted at top elven speed away from the battle scene, not missing the desperate look in Irielth's eyes as she saw her running away. Clear's resolution hardened. She looped back around and replaced her bow for her sword and readied herself to do what needed to be done.
Too fast for human eyes, the small wood elf ghosted up the beast's scaly tail and leapt to the sky once more, sword raised high above her head, fiery determination in her emerald eyes.
Just at that very moment, the magnificent beast raided its horned head and its eyes actually widened slightly in panic.
"Dovakiin, NO!" The beast spoke, it's dark mahogany voice echoed though her in understanding and suddenly she regretted what she was about to do.
It was too late, her sword pierced scale and the dragon let out one last scream of agony. Only this time, Clear could feel the beast's pain. It rippled though her body and engulfed her, almost consuming her.
She landed on the ground besides its head and laid a hand upon its rough scales.
"I am so sorry, Mirmulnir." The elf whispered, somehow instinctively knowing his name.
As she closed her eyes and let the tears flow freely at the guilt of killing such a magnificent creature, suddenly she felt a rush of power consumer her. Wind seemed to whistle in her ears as incoherent words rushed though her mind and the strange organized scratch marks from the Barrow flashed before her eyes.
Then she came to an understanding. The words became clear.
FORCE
The history of the entire word consumed her; she understood every aspect of that single word. Just then the rushing wind in her ears increased and her skin felt like it had been lit on fire.
Her eyes opened in panic and to her alarm she saw the scales of Mirmulnir burn away and blindingly bright tendrils of light left his body and swirled around her, burning into her very pours.
It was too much, too fast for Clear to cope. What was happening to her? She felt different somehow, something was constricting in her throat, suffocating her entire being, he soul.
It was all too much for her, she turned away from the scene and let loose a scream of frustration though confused tears.
"FUS!"
Clear was knocked off her feet from to raw power of her scream, her shout? She sat on the burnt ground staring wide eyed at the blue force of power that left her mouth dissipate into the darkness. The small elf couldn't do anything, she just sat there in shock staring wide eyed out into the darkness.
"What was that!?" Irielth's shout brought her back to reality. Clear steadily regained her composure, but almost lost it again when she saw that the body of Mirmulnir was nothing more than a skeleton, as if it had been there for years.
Just what was happening? What did any of this have to do with her?
"I can't believe it, you're...Dragonborn!" One of the guards exclaimed, running up in front of her with childish excitement in his eyes.
"Dragonborn, what do you mean?" Clear said, barely hearing her own words.
"In the very oldest tales, back when dragons were still in Skyrim. The Dragonborn would slay dragons and steal their power. That's what you did, isn't it? Absorbed the dragon's power?" The guard ramble excitedly.
"I don't know what happened to me." Claire mumbled more to herself than anyone.
"Well, you can shout now. You couldn't before, right? That can only mean one thing; you must be Dragonborn!"
"That's right, my Grandfather used to tell me stories about the Dragonborn. Those born with dragon blood in 'em. Like old Tiber Septim himself." Another guard cut in, all eager to share stories about an apparently resurfaced hero.
Clear just stood numb, taking in everything they were saying.
"I've never heard of Tiber Septim killing any dragons..."
"Come on Irileth, tell us. Do you believe in this Dragonborn business?" One of them turned to the dunmer, who had been strangely quiet since the dragon met its end.
"Hmph. Some of you would better kept quiet than flapping your guns on matters you don't know anything about. Here's a dead dragon, and that's something I defiantly understand. Now we know we can kill them. But, I don't need some mythical Dragonborn. Someone who can put down dragons is enough for me." Irileth said sharply, though when she placed her hand on the other elf's shoulder, worry was evident in her red eyes.
"You wouldn't understand Housecarl, you're not a Nord." One of the guards piped up and Irileth drew back in offence.
"I've been all across Tamriel. I've seen plenty of things just as outlandish as this!"
'You wouldn't know the half of it' Clear thought darkly, yet still could not find it in her to talk.
"I'd advise you all to trust in the strength of your sword arm than tales and legends" Irileth finished, obviously getting riled up. The guards started to fire back at her in argument.
"That was just shouting, what you just did! If you really are dragonborn...then-" Clear couldn't take it anymore.
She turned heal and ran.
She was good at running. She had been doing it almost all her life, and her life had been a long one. Yet, no matter the circumstance, no matter the peril, Clear was nothing if not reliable. If she was set a job, she would see it through to the end.
That's why she found herself running up the slopes to Whiterun to talk to the Jarl about what happened, before hightailing it to the opposite corner of Skyrim.
Clear could hold it together until then.
Just as she reached the main gates, the ground began to shake as if Red Mountain was erupting all over again. A blindingly bright clap of thunder forked over head and more rained down from the large mountain in the distance, the Throat of the World.
"DOVAKIIN!"
The call of male voiced echoed though her with a clap of thunder to accompany it and just then the heavens opened.
Clear ghosted though the sleeping city as the hard, cold rain soaked though her very skin.
She burst into Dragonsreach and ran straight up to the Jarl, who sat up straighter in his throne at the sight of her, sodden, burnt and obviously nervous form.
"So, what happened at the watchtower?" Jarl Balgruf asked instantly, eyes alert and bright, although tired bags showed under his eyes.
"The watchtower was destroyed but we have killed the dragon." Clear replied whilst thinking. 'I killed him. I killed that poor beast.'
"I knew I could count on Irileth!" The Jarl sat back with a grin on his bearded face. Then he took a moment to study the small elf and sat forward again in interest.
"But there must be more..." He asked, with a knowing look in his dark eyes.
Clear exhaled tiredly. The adrenaline had worn off now, and she was just anxious to get on the road again and away from people.
"When the dragon died, I absorbed some sort of power out of it." Clear said in a small voice, looking anywhere but at the Jarl.
"So it's true, the Greybeards were summoning you..." The Jarl mused, not looking at all in awe or terrified of the small elf, just thoughtful and for that Clear was thankful.
"Greybeards...?"
"Masters of the Way of the Voice. They live in seclusion up on the high slopes of the Throat of the World." Jarl Balgruf explained, genuine smile on his face as he tried to reassure the small elf.
"What do they want with me?"
"The Dragonborn is said to be uniquely gifted in the Way of the Voice. The ability to focus your essence into a th'um, a shout. If you really are dragonborn, they can teach you how to use it."
Did she want to use this ungodly power though? Why are the dragons even back? And why only now does this Voice thing effect her? Thoughts like these kept on running in circled around the small elf's mind.
The Jarl mad her Thane, and mentioned something about Lydia – but Clear couldn't concentrate, she was too deep in thought. She needed to get out. The air in Dragonsreach was far too dense, it was suffocating her.
Just as she reached the main entrance, she was stopped by a iron armoured dark haired woman, named Lydia who rambled on about the elf being a hero to the hold and how it was an honour to serve her.
Clear, who was desperate to get away from people, told the woman to wait there and then she bolted.
It was the early hours of the morning; dawn had not even arrived yet.
Clear ran. She ran as fast as her honed elven speed would take her. Far away from Whiterun, far away from dragons and Greybeards and she didn't intend to come back until she had time to think everything though.