Chapter 6

Dragon attack!

The dragon swooped down with a mighty roar and raked its claws on a Whiterun soldier to my right, spraying blood into the air. The man screamed, then collapsed in agony. Whipping my head around, I locked my eyes back on the dragon. It was brown, unlike the one that I saw in Helgen, but looked just as fearsome. Arrows flew from the bows of more soldiers, but most clattered harmlessly against its scaly body. Cursing anew, I stood, ready for whatever came next. When the dragon swooped down again, soldiers scattered to avoid getting ripped asunder, and more arrows flew. A few more arrows lodged in its thick hide, but did nothing to pause the dragon's attack. Another man was grabbed by one leg, and the dragon flew up into the sky again. It lifted the man to its mouth and took a bite out of his body. More blood splattered onto the ground, falling from the soldiers remains tossed carelessly to the ground, and panic began to spread among the guards. A woman yelled

"It's too powerful! We cannot beat it!" From behind a chunk of stone, Irileth yelled back

"No, stand and fight! We will not let this monster destroy our home!". Her words didn't accomplish much to inspire her men, but they still stood firm, firing arrow after arrow at the flying beast. With another roar, the dragon flew down, and finally landed on the ground. Feeling useless until then, I had simply stood in a daze. Once I saw it had reached the ground though, I ran like the wind towards it. I held my shield in front of my face as I approached, and blocked a passing blow of one of the dragon's clawed wings. Just that one hit badly jolted my arm, and I heard screeching as metal was sliced into. Gritting my teeth, I lowered my shield and attacked for all I was worth. Aiming for the eyes, as they were the weakest point that I could reach, I slashed my blade downwards, hoping to blind the beast. Unfortunately, even with my enchanted weapon, my sword hit a brow ridge and only managed to make a small cut across its face. The counterattack from the dragon was easily 10 times more effective. It lunged forward, its jaws open wide, and clamped its mouth over my right arm, shield and all. Teeth harder than steel punctured my arm in several spots, and pain coursed through my body as its sharp fangs tore into my flesh.

Yelling in pain, I aimed my sword to stab instead of slash, and I finally got the effect that I was looking for. My blade pierced the orb of the dragon's eye and popped the organ with another twist of the blade. An earsplitting shriek came from the dragon's maw as it let go of my arm, staggering backward, its head writhed back and forth in pain. No longer feeling the dragon's fangs pierce my flesh reduced my pain, but I knew that I wouldn't be able to use that arm for the rest of the fight. Pressing my advantage, I rushed forward once more, slicing the underside of the dragon's neck in an effort to deal more damage. After a small amount of resistance, my enchanted blade cut through the skin of its neck, leaving crystals of ice behind. The dragon once again took notice of me as I attacked, and I jumped backward to avoid an attack. What came next, I should have expected. In my pain-addled state, however, I wasn't thinking clearly. The dragon inhaled, then shouted a word at me.

"YOL!" it shouted, its mouth forming the harsh word. As it exhaled, a cone of flame came out of its maw, rushing forward at incredible speed. With incredible pain in my arm, I raised my shield to block the fire. It did little to save me. Flame covered me from head to toe, and my clothes instantly ignited. Blisters formed across my skin, and then it began to turn red. Once the dragon was done, burns crossed my body, and I was still on fire. Still having some sense, I dropped to the ground and started rolling to get the flames out and off of my body.

It took several seconds to put out all of the fire, but afterward, I lay there, feeling the pain of my burns all across my body with a unique intensity. Grimacing as I realized what I had to do, I slowly moved my arm to the pouch at my side. It had surprisingly not caught flame, so I hoped its contents weren't damaged. I pulled several vials out of the pouch and drank them all in succession. I had hastily purchased several new vials of red potion after I learned I would be fighting a dragon- which cost me a pretty penny. The shopkeeper, Arcadia, saw I was pressed for time and probably upped the cost of the potions. It didn't matter. In a few moments, vigor poured back into my body, and my wounds began to mend. It would take time, and maybe even advanced healing to completely recover, but I became hail enough to stand back up. While I laid on the ground, I cut out all sound and other senses to tend to my wounds. With my life no longer in serious danger, I once more heard cries of pain, people yelling, and the dragon once more shouting that word. Turning back to the dragon, I saw that it had both given, and taken a lot of damage. Less than half of the soldiers that were brought were still standing, but the dragon looked to be in bad condition itself. With its right eye blinded, it could only see out of its left, reducing its effectiveness at attacking. It also had a score of cuts and slashes across its head and body and was slowly backing up toward a large chunk of the watchtower. As I watched this all unfold, an idea came into my head. A terrible, terrible, idea. However, I couldn't think of anything else to do. I ran as quickly as my injuries would allow to the chunk of broken stone bricks and mortar and began to climb. It wasn't easy, as I only had one hand, and I was carrying my weapons and armor. Long years of combat had trained both my strength and dexterity, however, so I made the climb to the top and stopped for only a moment to catch my breath. By this time, the dragon was completely backed up against the piece of the watchtower. Its wing membranes were shredded from many attacks from axes and arrows, so it could no longer fly. Trying not to think about the pure stupidity of my next actions, I ran and lept off the chunk of the watchtower and landed on top of the dragon.

Running to avoid its sharp back scales, I made my way to its head, which I quickly straddled like a horse. The dragon noticed my actions, and it began to fling its head back and forth, trying to dislodge me. Holding onto its head with my legs, and onto a horn with my damaged arm, I just barely managed to keep my grip. Reversing my hold on my sword, I began to stab the top of the dragon's head again and again. My first few strikes did little to harm it, but I hit a lucky spot on the dragon's skull, and my blade sank into its head. Pulling my sword out, I thrust my blade one final time into its skull, and its entire blade disappeared inside the dragon's head. Without even a final roar, the dragon died with my sword in its skull, and wounds covering its body. For long seconds after the defeat of the dragon, I sat in a daze, leaning on one of the dragon's horns for support. It was only when shouts began to fill the air again did I come out of it. Whiterun soldiers were all shouting and pointing at the dragon, which I realized was… disappearing? Flakes of its scales peeled off and seemed to float into the air, burning as they did so. I jumped off its head, my blade still firmly stuck into its skull, and gazed in amazement as the whole dragon seemed to light on fire. Its scales soon all vanished, leaving only fallen scales on the ground around it, and more changes began to happen. Along with the scales, all of the dragon itself, save for its bones, vanished as well. Once only a skeleton was left, the process stopped. It was then, though, that something truly magical happened. A rainbow of swirling light came from the remains and rushed toward me. It poured into my mouth, eyes, and nose. After a few seconds, all the rainbow light was gone, and only the dragon's remains were left. That was what the soldiers all saw. What I felt right after I had absorbed the rainbow of light was indescribable. Imagine learning years of knowledge in an instant, movements, and actions that have become habits being injected into your mind all at once. It overwhelmed me, but also filled me with a sense of fulfillment as if I were meant to do… whatever I was doing. The only other way I would describe it is like drinking a dozen stamina potions, then reading a book at lightning speed. Suddenly, I had a much deeper understanding of the language that the dragon spoke. And, I realized, the language that I now spoke. The word that I had learned in Bleak Falls Barrow "Fus", made much more sense. I knew exactly how to pronounce it, its meaning, and how to properly "Speak" it.

A clatter of metal brought me back to reality. A man had dropped his sword in pure amazement at what he had just seen.

"Y-you're Dragonborn, aren't you?" After his half-question, half-exclamation, the rest of the Whiterun soldiers went crazy. One man shouted "Dragonborn? That can't be! There hasn't been a Dragonborn for over a thousand years!" Another woman yelled, "How did you do that?" More and more questions and shouts filled the air until a crisp bark cut through the chaos.

"That is ENOUGH! Calm down, soldiers, otherwise I'll have you washing the latrines for a month!" Irileth had made her presence become known. Her threat stilled the tongues of most of the soldiers, yet whispers still filled their ranks as they all stood at attention. The word "Dragonborn" swirled through my mind over and over, yet I knew nothing of the word.

"Dragonborn?", I asked, "What's that?" A guard stepped forth, and in a heavily accent, said

"In the very oldest tales, back from when there were still dragons in Skyrim, the Dragonborn would slay dragons and steal their power. That's what you did, isn't it? You absorbed that dragon's power?" Even more of my curiosity was piqued. I could still feel the rainbow energy, swirling inside of me. It seemed to centralize in my stomach, for some reason. Looking to the guard, I nodded slowly.

"Yes, I… I think I did." I said. This prompted another round of excited talking and shouting from the guards. I managed to catch certain phrases like "dragon blood", "Tiber Septim", and "Shout", but that was all that I could make out of the clamor. After a few barked orders from Irileth, most of the soldiers calmed down, though they seemed expectant. All stared at me, with faces full of doubt, excitement, amazement, and other expressions I couldn't quite tell.

After the silence grew to be too much, I finally caved.

"What? Do you need something?" I snapped, annoyed. A few of the guards took steps back, as if in fear, but one guard called out

"Let us see your shout, to truly see if you are Dragonborn!" I was beginning to get annoyed. I had just killed a dragon, and the guards wanted me to shout? Well, I'd give them a shout. Instinctively, my legs shifted as if to brace myself. Then, inhaling deeply, I shouted

"FUZ". The air seemed to shake, and I would have fallen if not for my stance. Several soldiers stumbled back as if they were shoved by someone. They cried out in surprise, but weren't hurt. The circle of soldiers around me all stepped back, some in amazement, others in fear. One thing was certain, though, and that was the pure admiration that they all shared for me. After my shout, not even the orders from Irileth could quiet the group, and they all swarmed around me. They lifted me on a shield and carried me the rest of the way to Whiterun, all the while cheering my praises. Of course, I told them to put me down, but they didn't listen to my complaints.

It was when night had finally fallen when I arrived back in Whiterun, and there were crowds of people at the gates to welcome back the soldiers. Though many cheered at our success, I still saw others grieving over the bodies of loved ones who had perished during the battle. Though many of the soldiers had been my carriers, some still kept their heads and carried their fallen instead. All of this passed in a blur, however, and I noticed that my vision was beginning to darken. Looking down, I saw that my right arm was bleeding copiously, with burned skin covering the rest of my body. Some soldiers noticed that I was beginning to fall, and caught me when I collapsed. When I woke, it was to the sound of what seemed like a hundred voices, shouting loud enough to shake the earth.

"DOVAKIIN!" the voices shouted. I jolted out of bed, falling onto the ground. This made my injuries flare up, and I groaned in pain. Coming into my room, most likely after hearing me slam into the ground, came a woman wearing a golden-brown robe and hood. Extending her arms, she calmly chanted a few words that I couldn't make out, and I was enveloped in darkness once more. Thankfully, I was not plagued by the nightmares that had followed me for the last week. When I woke a final time, I was in the same bed, with lanterns lighting the room around me. It was dark, which either meant that it was still nighttime, or an entire day had passed. Pushing myself up, I grunted, expecting to feel the pain of my burns. To my relief, however, no pain came. I carefully looked at my right arm, expecting to see the wounds caused by the dragon's maw, but all I saw was a series of small scars. It looked like the healers in Skyrim knew how to work well. Standing up completely, my back cracked like a firecracker, and I winced for another reason. Becoming an adult had its many perks, but middle-aged joints were not one of them. My sword and clothes were piled in a corner, and the rest of my gear was in a large crate close to it.

I was surprised to find that my sword, shield, and chainmail weren't in the crate with the ress of my equipment. Hopefully, they were being tended to. I felt a little naked without any armor, but it did feel nice to have all of the extra weight off my shoulders-literally. I doffed the cotton and wool clothes that were left for me, and appreciated their warmth in the still-cold spring called "First Seed". Leaving my room, I found I was in the temple of Kynareth that was present in Whiterun. Priests in the same golden robes walked among the temple, praying at an altar or tending to wounded men and women. None seemed to notice me until I noticed a man who was arguing with a priest. As soon as he saw me, he got more excited, and I began to hear what he said.

"He's right there! He's up and walking just fine! He should be able to go to the Jarl now!" The priest, who was a woman dressed in the same golden robes turned to me and slightly nodded her head.

"You may leave now, Link. Although I suggest you rest longer, it is ultimately up to you to leave or stay." I stayed in the temple a few minutes longer, thanking the priests who had healed my wounds. Afterward, I followed the man to the Dragonsreach, the Jarl's longhouse. The man, who turned out to be a guard, talked to me the whole time. He seemed to idolize me, calling me "Dragonborn" and "Dragon slayer" every chance he could get. Whatever the Dragonborn was to Nord society, the role must have been very important. Just when it seemed like the guard's blabbering would never end, I finally made my way into Dragonsreach. I was admitted to roars of approval, and a crowd of people rushed forward, thanking me, and asking me questions. Some even asked me to sign my signature in… questionable places. One voice rose above all, however.

"Enough! Let the man breathe, for Talos's sake." This made the crowd reluctantly part, and a path was cleared to the throne of Whiterun, where the Jarl sat.

"I've heard of what you did, and what many suspect what you are. But first, tell me firsthand what happened at the watchtower" he proclaimed. Clearing my throat, I began my explanation of the whole battle. I explained how the watchtower was destroyed, how many guards died, but also how I slayed the beast. I even added the bit at the end where I somehow absorbed the dragon's soul, finishing with "...and so, I may be Dragonborn. That is all, Jarl."

At the end of my short monologue, the Jarl sat ponderously for a few moments.

"Your name is Link, correct? Well, Link, what do you know of the Dragonborn?"

"Almost nothing, Jarl Balgruff.", I answered. Jarl Balgruff sat for a few more moments, seeming to choose his words carefully.

"The Dragonborn is uniquely gifted in the Voice- the ability to focus your vital essence into a Thu'um, or Shout. If you are the Dragonborn, then the Greybeards can teach you how to use your gift. And, before you ask," he said raising a hand to stall my questions "the Graybeards are Masters in the way of the voice. They live in seclusion on the slopes of the Throat of the World. They were the ones who shouted earlier- the ones who called for you, "Dovakiin" He trailed off for a moment, almost lost in thought. Then, a new voice arose from a table near the throne.

"That was the voice of the Greybeards, summoning you to High Hrothgar! This hasn't happened in ... centuries, at least. Not since Tiber Septim himself was summoned when he was still Talos of Atmora!" Proventus, who was mostly silent to this point, glared at the speaker, who was a man dressed in leather scale armor.

"Hrongar, calm yourself. 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."

"Nord nonsense?! Why you puffed-up ignorant... these are our sacred traditions that go back to the founding of the First Empire!"

The Jarl found it was time to come back into the conversation, speaking sternly to Hrongar.

"Hrongar. Don't be so hard on Avenicci." Both of the arguing men seemed to realize they were beginning to squabble, and seemed to calm down a little.

"I meant no disrespect, of course. It's just that... what do these Greybeards want with him?" Proventus inquired. By this point, I was feeling very left out of the conversation, but every time I tried to get a word in, they continued speaking. Jarl Balgruff looked back to Proventus and replied to his question.

"That's the Greybeards' business, not ours. Whatever happened when you killed that dragon, it revealed something in you, and the Greybeards heard it. If they think you're Dragonborn, who are we to argue? You'd better get up to High Hrothgar immediately. There's no refusing the summons of the Greybeards, it's a tremendous honor. I envy you, you know. To climb the 7,000 Steps again... I made the pilgrimage once, did you know that? High Hrothgar is a very peaceful place. Very... disconnected from the troubles of this world. I wonder if the Greybeards even notice what's going on down here. They haven't seemed to care before. No matter. I suggest you go to High Hrothgar, and learn what the Greybeards can teach you." I was beginning to get a little overwhelmed with information, but once the Jarl was finished talking, I began to talk.

"Thank you for your guidance, Jarl. I appreciate you telling me what lies ahead, but I feel like we may be a bit hasty. I am still recovering, after slaying a dragon that you asked me to defeat. Don't you think that requires more of a celebration?" At my proclamation, the Jarl almost seemed abashed at my words.

"Of course! Your actions have saved Whiterun from getting burned to the ground! You've done a great deed for me and my city, Dragonborn. By my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun. It's the greatest honor that's within my power to grant. I shall assign you Lydia as a personal Housecarl, and a weapon from my armory to serve as your badge of office. I'll also notify my guards of your new title. Wouldn't want them to think you're part of the common rabble, now would we? We are honored to have you as Thane of our city, Dragonborn."

Translations

Yol- Fire

Fus- Force

Dovakiin- Dragonborn, a person born with the soul of a dragon.