I followed Irileth out of Dragonsreach and into the streets of Whiterun, where she rounded up guards to accompany us. We ran out of the gate, and made our way towards the watchtower. Irileth was shouting something to her men, but I was lost in my own questions. The dragon at Helgen was here? How had they come back? Why had they come back? I shook myself out of my reverie as we approached the tall building, which now lay in shambles.
A loud growl sounded from the sky and I looked up to see a huge beast circling, roaring its challenge out towards us. A guard ran out of the wrecked tower in our direction, even as Irileth told us to make damn well sure to make every arrow count. This dragon was much smaller than the one at Helgen, and instead of jet black scales, they were a mottled purplish brown color.
The dragon swooped down at us, and gave another frightful roar. It opened its large jaw, exposing layers of teeth as it yelled something in a language that seemed strangely familiar to my ears, like a dream I had once had. Fo Krah Diin! It shouted, unleashing a blizzard of ice on us that made our reflexes lag, and slowed us down drastically.
I ran up to the roof of the destroyed tower, and pulling out the bow, nocked an arrow and sighted down the shaft at the dragon who was perched on a piece of the tower. I let it fly, only to see it miss by a few feet. By Oblivion. I swear I'll put in more time with my archery if I live through this, I thought as I pulled another arrow back with as much force as I could muster without snapping the string. This one struck the beast right in the flank, and while it searched for me, Irileth and her men got in a few more shots. I made my way down again before it could locate me and held another arrow ready to release.
The dragon took off again, but its wings had been pierced, causing it to land hard nearby. The dragon spoke. "I had forgotten what fine sport you mortals can provide!" Its voice was gravelly and rough, and it punctuated its words by snapping a soldier who had gotten too close into two and sending the body flying. One of the other guards charged the dragon's side, yelling the Old Nord cry, "Victory or Sovngarde!" as he drove his sword into the dragon's body and leaped back. Spurred on by their comrade's success at both wounding the dragon and not dying, my fellow armsmen ran towards the creature and hacked at it. The dragon's thick hide offered some protection, but ten swords poking at you will have some impact.
It killed another man with a well aimed bite, and sent two more sprawling when it shoved its wings outward. It also used its tail like a mace, lashing out at the men and then turning and snapping at them. It opened its mouth and let fly that powerful cry again, sending an avalanche of cold cascading around us. As it snapped its jaws shut, I noticed my chance. I drew Frostfang and decided to finish it off. Taking in a deep breath, I leaped towards the creature's head and sunk Frostfang into its eye socket, and drove it in as hard as I could with both hands. The sword itself seemed to glow blue, exuding an unearthly chill that passed through my hands as it flooded the dragon's skull.
The beast gave a final low moan and died saying something I didn't catch because of the guards' elated whoops. The body of the creature lay still for a while and just as Irileth opened her mouth, it started to smoke and let off a golden light. A strange mist coalesced from the now stripped and bare bones, and entered me, making me gasp. The word that had sung in my head, Fus, now made perfect sense. Before, I knew what the word meant, but now, I knew what the word could do.
The soldiers seemed to be staring at me with a mixture of confusion and awe, and even Irileth seemed stunned. "Dragonborn.", breathed a guard with a reverent bow. This seemed so out of character that I simply stared at the man like an idiot, until a huge booming voice rolled across us, sending us to our knees. "DOVAHKIIN!", it echoed, and I was seriously confused and nervous. Irileth pulled me to my feet and said, "I don't know about this Dragonborn business, but we better get back to Dragonsreach. The Jarl is waiting." Almost as an afterthought, she grudgingly added, "You fight well. For a civilian anyway." I searched the dragon's corpse, and after lifting as many of its bones and scales I could find, I ran to catch up with the soldiers.
I made my way towards the guard who had called me Dragonborn and asked him what he had meant. He told me that in stories of legend, there were warriors who could absorb the souls of dragons on the beast's death, and their knowledge too. He said they were called Dovahkiin or Dragonborn.
Me, Dragonborn? My skepticism must have shown on my face, and noticing, the guard told me that there was one way to make sure. Having killed the dragon and absorbed its soul, I would now be able to Shout in their language. I was about to dismiss his claims as fiction when I remembered the strange resonance of the word Fus after the dragon's death. Closing my eyes and letting the meaning of the word flow through me, I Shouted.
"FUS!" A shockwave of pure energy rippled the grass and sent the soldier in front of me staggering, causing him to fall to his knees. I was astonished by my new power, and after helping the guard up and apologizing, I tried it again, this time on a pile of rocks, and was gratified to see them flying far away. Lost in thought of my new ability, I reached Dragonsreach with the others.
The Jarl asked me to recount what had happened and I told him everything, concluding with my new discovery and the strange voices that had echoed after I had killed the dragon.
"So the call is for you. You have been summoned by the Greybeards, the masters of the Way of the Voice. Seek them out at the Throat of the World, at their mountain monastery High Hrothgar. It is a great honor to be called so by them." So this was the way of the voice, the same Voice Ulfric had used to kill Torryg. The Jarl continued. "For your aid in slaying this dragon, Whiterun owes you our gratitude, and by the power vested in me, I name you Thane to this hold," he said, presenting me with a strangely heavy axe. "This is the Axe of Whiterun, and I give it to you as a mark of your valor and so that my soldiers know you are to be respected. I also assign to you a housecarl, to keep your person and inventory safe."
After bidding farewell to the Jarl and his retinue, I made my way to the doors of Dragonsreach, only to be stopped by a pretty young woman holding a well worn shield and a sword. "Honored to see you my Thane", she murmured and I realized this was the housecarl the Jarl had told me of. I asked her- Lydia a few questions, about her and what a housecarl did, and realizing that it would be useful to have another set of eyes to watch my back on the road, asked her to follow me. She eagerly agreed though after I handed her the dragon scales and bones along with the Whiterun axe, she gave me a disapproving look that didn't quite agree with her words- "I am sworn to carry your burdens." I merely gave her a smile and walked past.
I was exhausted at this point but knowing that I would not rest easy till I had gone to High Hrothgar, I asked Irileth for directions. According to her, the closest city was Riften, and so I walked towards the carriage near the bottom of Whiterun, and after paying the driver to take us both to Riften, I fell asleep in the back of the cart.
Almost two days later, I stretched my limbs with a groan and watched Lydia do the same outside the gates of Riften. I remembered the city as more foreboding when I had lived there as a child but I was stronger now, and I could take care of myself. Deciding to not enter the place now, but rather, to make my way straight to High Hrothgar, I used the last of my gold to buy a horse. "Wait for me in Riften till I return," I told Lydia (she seemed a little put out by this) and after mounting the bay horse, I coaxed it into a steady gallop towards the mountain peaks in the distance.
A town called Ivarstead, a frost troll, and seven thousand steps later, I stood at the base of a towering gray castle that loomed in full majesty against the gray dawn. I dismounted from my horse and walked towards the entrance. The bronze doors were warm to the touch as I pulled them open and entered the place.
A man stood up from his kneeling position and approached me. His smile was calm and his apparel was a smooth gray. He introduced himself as Arngeir, and after naming three more similarly dressed men as Borri, Wulfgar and Einarth, told me about the Voice. About me being Dragonborn, and about the World-Eater Alduin attempting to destroy the world. He told me that it was my destiny to defeat this monster and I unconsciously gulped, remembering how difficult it had been to kill one dragon, let alone an apparently immortal one. Seeing my doubt, Arngeir assured me that I was not alone and said the Greybeards would help too. I had a choice ahead of me- to pursue my vendetta, or to help Skyrim. The choice took me longer than it should have, but I promised the Greybeards my aid. The Imperial bastards were hardly going anywhere.
To test my abilities, they taught me two more words- Ro, meaning balance and Wuld, meaning Whirlwind. The former, combined with Fus created a more powerful version of the same, and Shouting Wuld allowed me to traverse a distance of yards in less than a second. As a final test, I was asked to recover the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, the founder of the Way of the Voice.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, not letting go of my vengeance, but merely pushing it to the back of my head, where it awaited another day.
"I'm ready," I told Arngeir and I left, on my way to Ustengrav, where I would find the Horn and complete my training.