Marcurio and I exited Dragonsreach with a few extra septims. I split it evenly between us. Marcurio had been quite since we left Bleakfalls Barrow. I was beginning to worry about him. As though he read my mind, he spoke.

"So much has happened today, I'm still trying to process it. I saw a dragon and you devoured its soul."

"Yeah. I agree. I'm not sure I even believe it yet."

"Sartyl..."

"Marcurio?"

"Why wouldn't you allow me to heal you? You know back a few days ago in the Barrow?"

"I was capable of healing myself."

"But you had rather endured days of physical pain than simply allow me to heal you."

"Look, I don't wanna talk about it. I healed myself. It's over with."

We walked through the door of The Bannered Mare and headed to our rooms. I slept through the night. Thankfully.

Marcurio woke me up the next morning. I got dressed and met him doen stairs and we set out for the 7000 steps of High Hrothgar.

There were no towns, inns, or Courier posts between Whiterun and High Hrothgar. Marcurio and I had no reason but to camp.

Marcurio lit the fire and showed me how to set up tents. We sat in silence for a while around the campfire. It was a comfortable silence.

"Marcurio?" The mage looked towards me. "We've been travelling together for about a month now and you have yet to tell me anything about your life. Other than your fascination with caves and vast knowledge of Nordic history."

"I suppose I haven't. Very well. What would you like to know?"

"Anything really. Did you live in Cyrodiil?"

"Yes, I did. I was born in Anvil. When I was young, however, my father saw it best fit to move us to the Imperial City, in vain hopes of gaining wealth beyond measure." Bitterness nipped at his words. "My father then got to where he was never home. He had always been a man of business, never showing any true emotion to even his family. His focus was never on my mother and I, but instead on his money, his "empire", and his legacy."

"That must've been hard." I tried to sympathize. I remembered Cortumelorius felt the same way at first... but eventually he began spending time with me and showinv that he did care.

"You don't even know the worst of it." Marcurio's eyes burned darkly with hatred, but his tone was level and untouched by emotion. "The worst was whenever it drew close to the time when I should choose my own life. Never before had my father expressed opinion on my personal affairs. So, with the way my parents were in mind, I trained to become a scholar specializing in ancient histories of all races. Khajiit and their Elsweyr, Bosmer and Valenwood, Altmer and Summerset Isle, Dunmer and Morrowind, Redguards and Hammerfell, Argonians and Black Marsh, Imperials and Cyrodiil, and even Bretons and High Rock. But the one race that had a culture so convoluted and twisted, so mysterious and magickal, so interesting and adventurous was the the Nords and the ancestors of Skyrim. I studied it until there was nothing more the Imperial City could show me. Even after devoting myself for a few years to it, my parents did not approve. So I joined the Arcane University. I had always had an aptitude for magick and the arts thereof. My parents didn't approve even yet. As a last resort I worked with my father in his business and hated it. I worked for a couple of years and quit. My heart wasn't in it. My father disowned me after that. So I packed my things and left. My mother begged me to stay, but I couldn't. Even for her. So I joined the Legion and when I got stationed here in Skyrim, I stayed." Marcurio heaved a broken, ragged sign.

"I'm so sorry."

Silence clung to us as we sat across the campfire from each other. The night brought a chill and moisture had gathered in the grass around us.

"What rank were you?"

"Huh? Oh I was the Battlemage Legate."

"Wow."

Marcurio looked like he had something to ask but he decided against it.

"Tell me a little more about you."

Marcurio looked like already thought he knew too much.

"Err, like what?"

Marcurio thought for a moment. "Would you tell me why you were orphaned or something about your real parents?"

"Um, well... My father was Oeluveer Shrouded-Hearth and my mother was Luella Shrouded-Hearth. My father was a large Nord with a slight underbite. He had black hair like mine and eyes that were as green as the grass of the Reach. He was loyal to High King Torygg. High King Torygg and my father grew up together. They reminded best friends until the bitter end. He was a good man, who was murdered brutally." I choked a little trying to stay detached from my words. I had not talked of my father or his death since that cold day so many years ago. Tears brimmed my eyes. I blinked them back. "My mother was a beautiful woman with blonde hair and eyes as blue as sky. She was a sick, twisted woman undeserving of my father. She became involved with powerful things and people and organizations that she knew nothing of. She was executed when I was seven. Then I went to Cyrodiil." Hate drenched my voice and my throat was tight with sadness abounding. I hated her. My eyes burned as tears dared to escape my eyelids. My jaw felt sore and tired as I fought tears from barreling down my face.

"I- I'm sorry I asked. You know what, I'll take the first shift on watch. You need rest."

"No, Marcurio, I'm fine."

"You need sleep."

"So do you."

"There's only one tent." Damn. It almost worked. I just wanted to spend another night wrapped in his arms. He made me feel comfortable and safe.

"Fine. Wake me up before you fall asleep."

He didn't. Dawn broke over the snow peak of High Hrothgar and Marcurio lay asleep with his head resting on a log.

Soon we were heading up the seven thousand steps once again.

It was a little more than a two day trip.

Then I saw a large, black castle decorated with the carved stone heads of dragons. This was High Hrothgar, Home of the Greybeards.

I took a deep breath as I walked through the door. I met a man with a knotted beard. Angeir, the Voice of the Greybeards. The Greybeards were all elder men who had mastered the Voice and lived in seclusion.

The Greybeards ran me through several tests. Then they told me to head to Ustengrav to retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller.

So I was off.