22 Last Seed, 4E 201, Dragsonreach

Ivar stood before the jarl's throne, the focus of all eyes. Balgruuf slouched in his seat, his steward Proventus Avenicci on his right hand, his brother Hrongar looming large on his left.

"So," said the jarl. "Irileth gave me a report, but I suspect she left out some details. Not that I'm unhappy with her. She's a hard-headed pragmatist, and that's kept us alive more times than I can count. On the other hand, it means she's not the best witness for some things. I want to hear your story. What happened at the watch-tower, when the dragon came?"

"We battled the beast. Irileth and your men fought like champions, my lord, you should be proud of them." With great reluctance, Ivar continued. "After the dragon died, some part of it came to me. The men called me . . . Dragonborn."

"Not just the men. The Greybeards seem to think the same."

"Has there been a message from them?"

"Certainly there has. You heard it after the dragon died. Reports have already come to us from as far away as Falkreath and Morthal, saying that everyone in Skyrim heard it."

Ivar felt a chill, considering the raw power it would take to Shout so that men could hear many leagues away.

"They summoned you, Ivar Ragnarsson." The jarl leaned forward on his throne, holding Ivar's gaze with his bright blue eyes. "They haven't done that in centuries, not since they called Hjalti Early-Beard to High Hrothgar."

Hjalti Early-Beard. Also known to men as Talos Stormcrown, who became Emperor and later ascended to godhood. Talos best and most mighty! Is that the shape of the legend these fools want me to fill?

"If you really are Dragonborn, the first in two hundred years or more, then they can teach you how to use your gifts."

"I advise caution," said Proventus, the jarl's steward. "What does any of this Nord nonsense have to do with our friend here? Capable as he may be, I don't see any signs of him being this, what, Dragonborn."

Hrongar stepped forward, his beard bristling with outrage. "Nord nonsense? Why you puffed-up, ignorant . . . These are our sacred traditions, going back to the founding of the First Empire!"

"Hrongar, don't be so hard on Proventus. They've forgotten most of this, down in Cyrodiil."

"I meant no disrespect, of course," said the steward. "It's just that . . . what do the Greybeards want with this man?"

"That's their business," decreed the jarl, leaning back in his throne once more. "Not ours."

"What do you advise, my lord?" asked Ivar.

"You'd better get up to High Hrothgar immediately. There's no refusing the summons of the Greybeards. It's a tremendous honor." Balgruuf sighed. "I envy you. To climb the Seven Thousand Steps. I made the pilgrimage once, but now there never seems to be the time. High Hrothgar is a very peaceful place. Very disconnected from the troubles of this world."

Ivar frowned, wondering how he could refuse.

"I wonder that the Greybeards even notice what's going on down here. They haven't seemed to care before," The jarl shrugged. "No matter. Go to High Hrothgar. Learn what the Greybeards can teach you. That's my advice."

"My lord," objected Ivar in a low voice. "What if I find that my path lies elsewhere?"

Balgruuf's eyes flashed for an instant, but then his face took on a bland expression. "Well, that's between you, your conscience, and your gods. If you're not ready, you're not ready."

Ivar took a deep breath. "Thank you, my lord. I'll consider what you've said."

"Do that." The jarl watched Ivar shrewdly. "In the meantime, you've done a great service for me and my city. Dragonborn."

Ivar made a half-bow. "Anyone would have done the same."

"If that were true, it would not have been such a great service. I wish to reward you, and I think you will find my accolade easier to bear than that of the Greybeards."

"Of that I have no doubt, my lord."

"Then by my right as Jarl of Whiterun, I name you a Thane of this holding. It's the greatest honor within my power to grant."

Ivar frowned, but in thought rather than in refusal.

I had thought to make a home for myself somewhere in Skyrim, to work as a smith. To be Thane . . . to hold land and property, to provide military service, to aid and counsel the jarl? To accept noble status, something I could pass along to my own children?

I could accept that. Especially from this man, who rules his people well and does his best to stay out of the foolish quarrels of others. I could even set up a forge on my land, and keep up with my craft.

He took a deep breath and committed himself. "My lord, I accept."

"Good," said the jarl in satisfaction. "There's land available for a new Thane, twelve hides of it east of the city, already cleared and farmed. We can also find a house for you here inside the walls. I will want you close at hand. Proventus will see to the arrangements."

The steward bowed silently.

"You'll need a housecarl to serve as your strong right arm," the jarl continued. "Hrongar, what do you think?"

The big warrior examined Ivar with a critical eye. "Lydia is ready."

Balgruuf stared at his brother in surprise. "I wouldn't have expected that."

"She chose the life of a shield-maiden," said Hrongar with a shrug. "She'll find fame aplenty in this one's service."

"So be it." The jarl turned back to Ivar, just a hint of warning in his eye. "Lydia is a fine warrior, strong and quick. She burns to make her name in the world. She also happens to be Hrongar's daughter."

Ivar nodded. "I understand, my lord."

Well, that's plain enough, he thought. It will be interesting to have a woman in my household who is most assuredly off limits.