Skyrim: A Tale of Two Dragons

Chapter 9: The Dovahkiin

Wulfric stared up at the robed trio in confusion. These simple men were the Greybeards. Wulfric hadn't really known what to expect but he had been expecting something more than basic looking monks that wouldn't have looked out of place anywhere in Tamriel.

He glanced over to see where the troll had just been. The ground, once covered with a deep layer of cold snow was now barren down to the rock mountain face in a twenty-foot-wide cone. The ground even appeared slightly damaged as though a heavy object had been dragged across it. Wulfric frowned as he realized that his maul had likely been launch off the mountain with the troll.

With a sigh, the large man tried to push himself back to his feet but hissed in pain as he sat up. A look down at his armor revealed that the branded iron had given way to the troll's strength, caving inwards and being sheered by the beast's claws. Sure enough, he would've been a dead man if the Greybeard's had not arrived.

Pushing through the pain, Wulfric finished standing and addressed the trio standing before him. "You summoned me here? What is it that you want from me?"

"We want nothing of you, Dovahkiin," said the middle monk. He had been the same to address him previously and Wulfric figured he was the trio's leader. "We wish to see your abilities firsthand and instill our wisdom unto you."

"I am Arngeir and my companions are Borri and Einarth," the monk told him, gesturing to the man on his right and left respectively. "Please follow us to the temple and we will see to your injuries."

The trio turned to leave in unison. With a grimace and clutching at his injured side, Wulfric limped behind them.

The trek to the temple couldn't have been more than a mile but if may as well been a day's journey to Wulfric. He'd discarded his broken armor almost immediately when he felt that jagged edges jabbing into his skin. In doing so, he come to the obvious conclusion that his ribs were broken.

He managed to heal himself of the cuts across his side but he couldn't do anything about the bones themselves. Each step left him with a white-hot pain in his side and each breath was a struggle. The Greybeards had merely watched him during this. Wulfric figured that they were looking for him to further prove himself to them.

Eventually they made it to High Hrothgar and were met by another monk, Wulfgar. Upon seeing Wulfric's hunched over form, he immediately gestured for Wulfric to remove his shirt. He said nothing, but wasted little time inspecting the large man's ribs, gently poking and prodding his torso before stepping back, hands lit with a golden glow.

Within just a few minutes, Wulfric's breathing became much easier and the stabbing pain in his side faded. Wulfric's eyes widened at this. He'd taken severe damage to his leg back in Whiterun and it had taken the healers the better part of two days to heal it properly. Wulfgar had just healed badly broken ribs in a matter of minutes.

Wulfric bowed deeply to the monk. "Thank you for your healing. You're clearly very skilled."

"Wulfgar mastered healing magic many years ago," Arngeir spoke from behind him. So far, he was the only Greybeard to have spoken an actual word. "He was a healer prior to coming to High Hrothgar and his talents are a great boon us."

Wulfric turned and stared at Arngeir. The man was clad in the same greyish-purple robes as every other member with his beard fastened into a neat knot near its tip. Wulfric idly wondered if that symbolized anything.

"Why are you the only one who talks?" Wulfric asked him, figuring it was best to be direct about it.

Arngeir gave him a wan smile. "So, you did notice, then? Many don't catch it for the first few hours. I speak to you in common tongue as my brothers here are too far into their paths with the Voice."

Wulfric cocked an eyebrow at him. "Too far into the path? What does that mean?"

Another faint smile from Arngeir. "If they tried to speak with you in the manner you're familiar, they'd likely kill you on accident."

Wulfric let out a low whistle as he glanced around at the four men. "That's some power. I take it you're the high priest of the temple then? You've mastered the Voice and can control it better?"

Wulfric caught a bevy of looks shooting between the monks but couldn't discern them. Arngeir merely shook his head as if embarrassed. "Far from it actually. I'm the least experienced of the Elders here and have not developed enough to be a threat to you without intent."

Wulfric nodded, absorbing this information. "Interesting. Who is in charge here then?"

Another flurry of eye movement and silent communication between the monks. After a moment, Arngeir answered. "You may meet our master in due time if you are truly worthy. But first, we must see your abilities firsthand, Dovahkiin."

In unison, three of the monks spread out into the great stone hall that they stood in, forming a large square around Wulfric. The large man eyed them suspiciously, but also realized that they likely hadn't called him to their mountaintop temple as a trap.

"Dovahkiin, please use your Voice on me," Arngeir told him. Seeing his hesitation, the old man continued. "I assure you that you cannot harm me as you are right now."

Wulfric gave a light shrug before Shouting at the monk.

"FUS!"

The monk slid backwards a few inches on the carved floor but nothing more. Wulfric eyes widened. That same Shout had staggered three fully armed soldiers. It had barely ruffled the monk's robe.

Arngeir seemed pleased all the same. "Well done, Dragonborn. We will teach you in the ways of the Voice, just as the Greybeards have done to those with Dragon Blood for centuries."

"I see," Wulfric answered. He glanced around at the silent monks. "From how people in Whiterun acted, I take it I'm the first Dragonborn you've seen in a while?"

Arngeir nodded. "That is correct. You are not the first Dragonborn, far from it actually. Those blessed with Dragon's Blood have existed for over a millennia. You are, however, the first Dragonborn that has made themselves known in this age."

Arngeir adjusted his ruffled robes before continuing. "When you Shout like that, you are speaking in the literal language of the dragons. This divine blessing gives you the innate ability to learn the Words of Power, the language of the dragons in written form, imbued with the power of their Thu'um.

"The Shout you used earlier is known as Unrelenting Force. You know only of the first word, Fus, meaning force. Master Einarth will grant you his knowledge about the second word, Ro, meaning balance."

One of the monks, Einarth, stepped forward and bellowed out a single word. "Ro!"

Wulfric felt no push of force against him, like he had expected. Instead, jagged runes etched themselves into the floor before him. Each carving glowed a bright red, like molten steel. Wulfric stared at them a moment before he felt a surge of heat explode through him followed by a faint howling. He briefly collapsed to one knee. In seconds it was over, just like what had happened after slaying the dragon at Whiterun.

"Marvelous!" Arngeir praised him. "You learn a new word with the speed of a master! For all of us to learn a Shout requires intense dedication, meditation and deep understanding. It would take me nearly a year to accomplish the same feat you did in a few moments."

Wulfric pushed himself to his feet. Now that the moment had passed, he didn't feel any difference from before. "How do you know I've learned it?"

"Let's find out then," Arngeir said. He gestured to another monk. "Master Einarth, if you will."

Einarth let loose another Shout, this one longer. "Filk lo sah!"

A dark, shimmering specter appeared before them. It looked as through a shadow was trying to impersonate a monk. Wulfric stared at it, unsure of what was happening.

"Use your Thu'um, Dovahkiin," Arngeir told him. "Use the Shout you just learned on the shade."

Wulfric shrugged and did so. "Fus ro!"

Immediately, Wulfric felt the difference with the second word. It felt like the difference between delicately etching runes into steel as opposed to shaping the raw steel with powerful hammer blows. The shade was destroyed in the instant the Shout touched it.

Wulfric stared at where the shade had been. It began to dawn on him on how much power being a Dragonborn gave him. He looked at all the monks gathered around him, before focusing his eyes directly on Arngeir.

"Show me everything."

Wulfric worked with the Greybeards until he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

While he was able to learn anything they were willing to teach him in an instant, the toll it took on him was something entirely different. Arngeir had told him that his soul was straining due to the duality of his Dragon Blood with a human body. The monk believed it likely that his soul had once belong to a dragon as well, explaining that a theory based off of ancient texts.

At this point, Wulfric didn't really care.

The large man walked slowly behind Arngeir as the monk led him to room where he could rest.

"I must tell you something before you rest." the old monk began. "You are not the only visitor we have received recently."

"Is that so? I didn't figure you'd get too many people up here."

"It is not common to have guests at High Hrothgar. Most that make the pilgrimage will climb the steps and pray just outside our halls. Some may even stay for a night in the weather is particularly foul. I'm sure you saw the various statues and the gifts surrounding them as you entered."

Wulfric nodded. He had seen as much, but hadn't paid it much mind considering that he was dealing with badly broken ribs at the time. "I did see that. What makes this one different?"

Arngeir continued to walk slowly through the monastery, Wulfric right behind him. The larger man was thankful that Arngeir had elected to lead him. Not only was the long walk easier with some small talk, but the halls of the High Hrothgar were surprisingly elaborate once you left the main hall. Wulfric doubted he'd have been able to find his was alone.

"He is more a survivor than guest." Arngeir answered in standard calm tone. "Einarth found him unconscious on the grounds earlier this morning. The poor man likely would have died if we hadn't come across him. Wulfgar healed him but he's yet to regain consciousness. Ah, here we are."

Arngeir brought them to a stop in the middle of a hallway. He turned and pushed against a darkened slab of stone that swung open to reveal a moderately sized room. There were a few beds littered throughout the room with a large fire pit in the middle, the fire burning low enough to cast a slight glow over the room. A multitude of bookshelves lined the walls but there was little else decorative about the room. Everything in the room was very plain but looked in good condition. It seemed the Greybeards valved function far more than form, something Wulfric could appreciate himself.

Resting on one of the beds was a man. Only his head was visible, the rest of his body covered by a think woolen blanket. Despite that, Wulfric guessed that the man was Breton. His skin was tanned but not very olive-toned like most Imperials. He had was a muddy brown color and ended at his shoulders. Wulfric idly noticed a small stack of folded clothes rested on a stool near the fire pit.

"That would be him." Arngeir explained. "I hope you don't mind sharing this room with him for the time being. Considering he's still asleep, he's unlikely to give you any trouble. Even if he did wake, he's likely far too weak to be a threat to a Dovahkiin such as yourself."

Wulfric stared at the man a minute longer before giving a light shrug. "Doesn't seem like there's much choice in the matter."

"Feel free to pick any bed." Arngeir told him, gesturing to the room. "I will come and get you in the morning to resume your training."

Without another word, the monk turned and left, quickly disappearing into the darkness of the halls.

Wulfric stared at the room before walking over to the bed farthest from the Breton. Quickly disrobing for bed, the large man slid underneath the thick blankets. He eyed the sleeping man for a few more moments before he felt sleep overtake him.

Wulfric wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep when he heard rustling around him.

He carefully opened a single eye, trying to get a glimpse of what was going on. Unfortunately, the fire pit held little more than embers at this point. Unable to see anything, he quickly opened the second and looked about the room.

Wulfric spotted a torch flickering in the darkness on the far side of the room. Quietly as he could, Wulfric sat up and peered into the darkness, trying to discern who held the torch.

The Breton was awake and prowling around the various bookcases that lined the room. Wulfric could hear the man muttering to himself but couldn't make out what he was saying. Wulfric slipped on his boots and walked over to the man, trying his best to be stealthy. For once in his life, it worked and he made it within just a few feet of the man.

The Breton, who was a good foot and a half shorter than Wulfric and surprisingly thin, was flipping through various books that littered the shelf. His face was oddly illuminated by the low-lit torch, casting small shadows across his face and making his tanned face appear red. Every now and then, he'd make a small gasp and set the book onto a stack on top of the shelf.

The Breton still hadn't noticed his presence when Wulfric pointed out. "It's poor manners to rob the people who saved your life."

The man dropped the book he was holding and nearly dropped his torch as well as he let out a shriek.

The Breton spun and faced Wulfric. "I'm not stealing any-Shor's balls your big!"

Wulfric stared down at the smaller man and raised an eyebrow. "I get that a lot. The Greybeards found you unconscious outside earlier today. What were you doing out there?"

"My name is Thomas," the Breton introduced himself, extending his free hand. Wulfric shook it warily, expecting the man to try something and was slightly surprised when nothing happened. "I'm a historian from Cyrodil. I was making my way to the College of Winterhold – I'm something of an aspiring Mage as well – but I got sidetracked when I realized that I'd be passing nearby High Hrothgar."

"So, you climbed a mountain to see an ancient keep…on a whim?" Wulfric asked. "Did you not realize that it's at the top of a freezing mountain in one of the coldest parts of all of Tamriel?"

Thomas looked at him sheepishly but shrugged. "I was using fire magic to keep myself warm but I ran out of energy to cast it and forgot to bring any potions with me. I tend to get swept away at the possibility of adventure and knowledge. But look at all of this!"

The man flourished the torch in a wide circle, illuminating the numerous bookcases in the room. Wulfric could practically hear Thomas internal squeal of glee.

"Look at all the knowledge in just this one room! I've already found two accounts of dragon worship in the Second Age that I've never come across. There's so much hear to learn and record and give out to the world!"

Wulfric sighed and placed a firm hand on the smaller man's shoulder. He ignored Thomas's knees buckling slightly. "Be that as it may, it's either well into the night or a few hours away from dawn. If you want to read, fine. Just do so silently while I go back to sleep. I'd recommend you take it easy though. From what I understand, if not for Wulfgar's healing spells, you'd likely be severely frostbitten if not outright dead."

"Of course, of course," Thomas assured him, already lurking back over to the bookshelves. He picked up the book he had dropped earlier and propped it back open. "Get all the rest you need. I'll be as quiet as a field mouse over here. I've plenty to keep me busy."

Wulfric eyed the man for a good few seconds before reaching out and pulling the torch from his grip. The larger man walked over to the fire pit and tossed in a few small logs that rested nearby. He spotted a small vile of oil as well and poured it over the dry logs. He watched the still burning embers flare up when the oil reached them, but tossed the burning torch onto the logs for good measure.

Within moments the nearly dead fire was burning brightly, illuminating the room in a warm glow.

Wulfric turned back to Thomas. "That should save your eye sight. I'd also like to not freeze in the middle of the night, if nothing else."

Thomas face split into a wide grin. "Many thanks…. actually, I don't know your name."

Despite himself, Wulfric smiled back. "Wulfric," he said as he slipped back under the heavy blankets. "Wulfric White-Wind of Wrothgar."

Thomas laughed as he turned back to his book. "That's a lot of W's."

Wulfric chuckled lightly as he slid his eyes shut and fell asleep to the sound of a crackling fire and the gentle rustle of parchment.

Arngeir woke Wulfric far too early for his liking just a few hours later.

It didn't take long for the Nord to realize the Thomas was gone from the room but Arngeir explained that the Breton was down in the main hall, breaking fast with the other monks and apprentices. Apparently, the man had still been awake when the first rays of light had come over the mountain and had ventured out in the halls of High Hrothgar. Arngeir had found him lost within them shortly after.

"He is an excitable man," Arngeir admitted as he escorted Wulfric to breakfast. "His thirst for knowledge rivals that of Ulfric's during his time within these halls."

"That seems like an understatement," Wulfric replied. "The man passed out in a blizzard on a mountain and the first thing he does upon waking up in a strange place is to sample the bookshelves."

Arngeir nodded solemnly but said nothing as the pair reached the dining hall shortly after. This was the first time that Wulfric saw the whole population of High Hrothgar. There were multiple monks spread throughout the hall, distinguishable by their robe that matched Arngeir's. Scattered among them were other men and women in plain brown robes. Wulfric guessed these people to be the apprentices that Arngeir had mentioned.

Thomas was perched at his own table, a column of books resting next to his plate. He held an open book in his left hand, eyes never leaving the page as he shoveled fried eggs into his mouth with his right hand. The bits of egg on his chin gave away that his multitasking skills weren't up to the challenge.

Wulfric walked over to one of the long tables that had a few platters of food spread out on it. He grabbed some eggs for himself as well as a few fillets of a meat he didn't recognize and a roasted potato. He finished the plate off with a small wedge of cheese and bread.

Wulfric walked over and sat across form Arngeir. The larger man noticed that the monk hadn't gotten any food for himself. Wulfric raised an eyebrow but thought better than to question the man. It was likely a form of a fasting that various temples did throughout Tamriel.

"So," Wulfric asked as he swallowed down a bite of meat. "When will I be able to meet your master?"

"That is something I wished to speak with you about as well." Arngeir answered. "We wish for you to finish a final task for us and confirm that you are the Dovahkiin that has been spoken of."

Wulfric frowned, pushing his plate away. "I thought I had already proven myself as the Dragonborn to you."

Wulfric noticed Thomas's head snap away from his book at the mention of 'Dragonborn.'

Arngeir nodded. "You have met all our requirements thus far, but our master wishes to see a final challenge overcome before we are fully allowed to give you the appropriate title."

"Wait!" Thomas had abandoned all decorum and leapt onto the table he was eating at, running across the few tables that separated him from Wulfric and Arngeir. Arngeir looked upset but Wulfric found it incredibly amusing.

Thomas reached them quickly, jumping down to sit beside Wulfric. "Do you mean to tell me that this man," he gestured wildly at Wulfric. "Is a legendary Dragonborn?!"

Arngeir stared down the man crossly. "It would seem that is the case. I would ask you to respect our halls more so in the future, if you continue to wish to walk them."

"Of course," Thomas said with a hasty bow of his head. He spun towards Wulfric. "You have to let me accompany you!"

"Accompany me? I don't even know what they want of me yet, let alone if I'm going to do it. I didn't ask for any of this."

"Fate never asks for a person's willingness," Arngeir said quietly. "It is simply thrust upon them and they must handle it as best they can. Our master wishes for you to reclaim the horn of our founder, Jurgen Wind-Caller from his ancient tomb in Ustengrav. Return it to us and the granted the full title of Dovahkiin by our master at the Throat of the World."

Thomas's eyes had gotten wider with every word the monk spoke. The man was so excited he was visibly shaking. Wulfric sighed.

"A fate thrust upon indeed," Wulfric grumbled. "Very well. I'll fetch this horn for you in order to meet your master. Having the title of Dovahkiin should be good word of mouth when I set up shop back home."

Arngeir frowned at this but said nothing.

Thomas, meanwhile, clasped his hands together and prostrated himself across the table next to Wulfric.

"Please, please, please let me accompany you on this quest! To follow and record the journey of an honest-to-Shor Dragonborn is an unforeseen dream opportunity. I could write and record your feats that bards will sing about for the ages!"

Wulfric stared at the man as he mulled it over. While having a historian follow him around sounded like a pain, he was intrigued at the man's magic capabilities. Ultimately, Wulfric figured that he'd made more enemies in Skyrim than friends so far, so why look a gift horse in the mouth?

"Fine," Wulfric told the man. "We'll make our way after we finish eating."

Thomas let out a whoop of joy that echoed through the hall. The excitable man jumped up from the table and went racing back to their room, likely to start preparing for the journey.

Wulfric sighed. Maybe this wasn't the best idea after all.

The pair set out from High Hrothgar about an hour later, just as the sun was beginning to peer through the gaps of the lower mountains below them. The previous day's blizzard had ended sometime during the night, but lucky for them the winds hadn't died down and pushed a vast majority of the fresh snow to the side of the path.

Wulfric was clad in the traveling cloak he'd taken when he left Whiterun, but he'd left his armor behind. While he could repair it, the task of carrying it down the mountain and finding a forge to do so seemed a waste. Instead, Arngeir had given him a thick woolen undershirt to help stave off the cold.

Wulfric's maul had been lost as well, blown off the mountainside with the damned frost troll that had almost killed him. The Greybeards didn't carry weapons themselves but he had spotted an iron axe near a status of Talos as they left. Ignoring the guilt, Wulfric snatched it up and laced its shaft through his belt. It was far too small for his liking but it was better than nothing.

Thomas was bundled in a thick brown coat made out of the hide of a bear. A heavily dyed dark red scarf was wrapped around his neck, a contrast to the faded green tunic he wore underneath. A heavy burlap satchel was slung over one shoulder, resting across him on his opposite hip and filled with books, parchments, ink and quills. He must have been quite serious about documenting their travels. A long staff was strapped across his back, its shaft made of polished oak and capped with a rough depiction of a bronze dragon head.

Wulfric frowned at it. He's wasn't very fond of dragons.

The two had already discussed the best course of action. Thomas, luckily, had purchased a map of Skyrim shortly after crossing the border. When Ustengrav wasn't listed anywhere, Arngeir had told them that it was northeast of the city of Morthal and southeast of the Imperial capital Solitude…which was several days journey away from them.

Wulfric wasn't keen at all about going anywhere near Solitude after killing a group of Imperial soldiers the day prior. He remembered seeing Balgruuf's map during his time at Dragonsreach and how the country was essentially split in half over the rebellion. Much of western Skyrim had sided with the Imperials while the eastern side favored Ulfric's Stormcloaks, leaving Whiterun as a neutral middleman dividing the two.

They'd likely be fine for another 50 miles or so before they traveled too far west as they steered towards Ustengrad, leading them thicker into Imperial territory. Wulfric would have to make sure to keep his head down as much as possible, a difficult task for a man of his size. Any dealings with the Imperials was unlikely to be a positive experience, even if they didn't know who he was. If Helgen was anything to go by, they weren't exactly being picky about who they imprisoned.

He'd hadn't yet told Thomas of his standing with the Imperials, the attack at Helgen…or much at all about himself really. Both men had been to focused on preparing for the trek they had talked about little else.

"So, tell me about yourself, Wulfric?" Thomas said as they began their descent down the mountain. "I know that the Greybeards believe you to be a Dragonborn but who are you really?"

Wulfric glanced at him as he walked. "What do you mean, 'who am I really?'"

"Come now, every person has a beginning to their story! You said you were from Wrothgar over in High Rock. That's a strange place to come from, unless you're an Orc. Not many men tend to live up in those mountains after all."

Thomas reached into his satchel and pulled out a book full of empty pages and an already inked quill.

"Everyone has a wonderous beginning, no matter how mundane it may seem to them. What was your upbringing like? Were you an orphan raised by Orcs? Raised by a band of thieves in hiding? How about your parents seeking refuge after running from their ancestral home?"

Wulfric nearly tripped at the last guess but caught himself. He ruefully shook his head. "Well now that you mention it…"

Thomas's face split into a wide grin as he brought his quill to the paper. "Tell me everything."

Okay, going to call it quits there. Sorry about the long time in between chapters. Been very, very busy as of late. As I'm sure most of you know, stats and alerts haven't been working for a while now, but I make sure to read everything that you guys post on this story! Every review means a lot!

See you in the next one!