3rd Hearthfire

Phane returned to the table with three cups and a bottle of red wine. 'Let's hear something more cheery before the night is done.' He put the drinks on the table and sat down.

'I have some records that pertain to something bittersweet,' offered Drelis, sipping his sour wine.

'Are these Lydia's accounts?' Lalaine asked.

'Only to begin with, listen here. Khargol traveled through the night, under the pale gazes of the moons that watched from overhead. He found a desolate ruin on the hillside and, hoping to find shelter until morning, explored it. It was an empty shell, but at its highest point was a room open to the night sky where a forge burned brightly. A journal upon one of the workbenches described it as the Lunar Forge where weapons would take on queer attributes if forged in the moonlight.'

'Wow. Did he forge anything?'

'Unfortunately not, but I imagine that the Lunar Forge would not be something that an errant smith would forget. No, Khargol did not have the necessary ores and ingots to forge anything at the time, but he eagerly marked it upon his map for later investigation.

'He arrived in Whiterun just before dawn. He went straight to sleep, as anyone would after such a long journey, and woke a little before noon to tell Lydia of his adventures in Markarth and the Reach.

'On the forge at the Warmaiden smithy, Khargol forged dwemer metal into an exquisite set of heavy armour for himself. He also met with a mercenary by the name of Uthgerd the Unbroken.

'Uthgerd was a warrior woman, there was no mistake. During a fist-fight on the night that Khargol went missing from Whiterun, she had been on the receiving end of his orcish knuckles. So impressed was she, by his strength and vigor, that she had looked for him the following morning to offer her services as a fighter to watch his back. Khargol had disappeared, however, only to find himself in Markarth as we have already heard.'

'And we still don't know why,' complained Lalaine.

'Did Uthgerd end up following Khargol anyway?' Phane asked.

'She did indeed,' answered Drelis. 'She wanted to act as his companion, so he gave her the opportunity to prove herself. She was obviously a seasoned fighter, but every warrior has an individual way of fighting, so Khargol needed to weight her personality as much as her combat prowess.

'They journeyed into the foothills north of Whiterun, hunting bandits wanted by the jarl for theft and murder. The bandits were holed up in an iron ore mine; Khargol and Uthgerd stole inside, stepping slowly and carefully to avoid letting the bandits know they were there. Just as they crossed the threshold into the cavern where the bandits were sitting, planning their next move, Khargol disturbed some gravel that rolled down the slope and alerted the bandits.

'The outlaw hedge-wizard in the bandits' employ panicked and let loose a magical stream of flames. Spilled lamp oil caught fire and suddenly the cave turned into an oven! With the majority of the bandits writhing and burning amongst the flames, it fell to Khargol and Uthgerd to attack the bandit chief to finish the job. Raining blows from both sides, our valiant warriors won the day and claimed the bandits' treasure trove for themselves.'

'Was that enough to prove Uthgerd's worth?'

'Not even close,' said Drelis. 'Khargol had heard rumours of a barrow to the north, so he took Uthgerd there to see how she would fare against the walking dead. The burial ground was named Volunruud, and it stood half-buried in the snow of the highlands. Khargol warned Uthgerd what they were likely to face, but assured her that he was experienced in delving into such dark places.

'In the barrows, Uthgerd found the journal of a deceased explorer. The journal mentions the inner tomb being accessible only by finding a number of keys. Khargol suspected that the keys would be similar to the golden claw he found in Bleak Falls Barrow at the beginning of our tale.'

'I don't suppose that dead explorer's journal is one of those documents you have there,' supposed Phane. 'Or is it Uthgerd's diary you are reading from.'

'Uthgerd's,' stated Drelis. 'She was passably literate, but I suspect that some of her own feats are largely exaggerated.

'Where was I? Ah yes, the keys. As they searched for the keys in the smaller tombs, the skeletal remains of the dead animated to defend the charnel houses. Uthgerd writes that she smashed at least twenty skeletons to pieces. In the report that Khargol gave Lydia about the tomb, however, it is suggested that only half a dozen skeletons arose in each tomb. Either way, it was clear that Uthgerd's courage did not waver in the face of the undead.

'When the duo explored deep enough to find draugr, Uthgerd flung herself at them as they appeared. There were times when Khargol left her at intersections to explore side-passages. He was wary of traps and did not want Uthgerd setting them off and getting them both killed.

'The keys turned out to be ceremonial weapons. When they were placed in the door to the final vault, the way was opened. Uthgerd writes that Khargol spoke of echoing voices, something about dragon voices that he could hear down the tunnel. She could not hear anything, however, so we can surmise that non-dragonborn cannot hear the echos of the shouts recorded on the word wall murals.

'The guardian of the word wall, however, was an incredibly powerful phantom named Kvenel. Although Khargol and Uthgerd managed to best his draugr minions, Kvenel's potent magic drove them back into a retreat. They fled from the tomb and sealed the vault to keep the malicious ghost from pursuing them.'

'They had to run away?' Lalaine's voice was full of deflated disbelief. 'You mean that they were defeated?'

'I do.' Drelis drank some more wine. 'Don't worry, Lalaine; Khargol returned much later to face Kvenel's magic again. The night was cold and full of snow when Khargol and Uthgerd emerged from the barrow. They had to hike a little way from the barrow before they found a camp where they could rest safely until morning, but they had survived with only minor injuries. Uthgerd even writes, much later on, that she was plagued with nightmares of Kvenel's unearthly voice and the claustrophobia that the barrows gave her. It must have been a very horrible thing to endure.'

'Does that mean they parted ways?'

'Not yet,' Drelis explained. ' There was still more adventuring to do in the tundra, and Phane will be happy to hear that they include a dragon.'

1st Hearthfire

Phane nursed his drink, throwing the occasional glance at a pretty redguard girl at the bar. Lalaine was not coming to the tavern this evening, she was visiting her mother or something, and Drelis had left him alone at the table to catch a student he knew and ask him about some book or another.

Drelis had left a few volumes, including Lydia's diary, on the table. Phane almost put his tankard on it before recognising and picking it up. 'I'll bet Lydia was a comely lass,' he idled to himself. 'I could do with a housecarl like that. Someone to follow me around and beat the snot out of any thugs who dared to cross me. Someone to watch the house for me.' He looked around his empty table. 'Just someone to talk to would do right now.'

He opened the diary and flipped through it to find where the story had left off. 'Well, old Drelis certainly wasn't telling the story verbatim was he?' It took him a while to get used to the way the entries were sorted, then found that Lydia's personal thoughts were separate from her documentation of Khargo gro-Mashnar's feats and movements. It wasn't the original diary, that much was certain, so why it had been laid out in such a hard-to-read manner perplexed Phane to distraction.

'1st Hearthfire,' he began, piecing the puzzle together himself. 'A courier delivered a letter to Khargol on the road. It was sealed, but signed "a friend." Very mysterious. The letter suggested finding a place called Lost Tongue Overlook.' He looked over at the redguard girl again, but she had left while he was distracted with the book. No one was watching so he carried on. 'Presumably it was one of the lost word wall murals that would teach him a thu'um.

'A mining community is hard pressed to make a profit thanks to the constant interference of the forsworn. The hills are full of eyes, and the forsworn are a constant threat. The journey back to Whiterun is off with a bang as a glimpse of a dragon is caught amongst the rocky crags. It circles and swoops, roaring, but not attacking. Khargol scales a steep rise of rock to swing at it, but the dragon keeps its distance, bellowing rather than getting involved in a confrontation. Eventually, it flies off. Strange...'

Drelis was still chatting away in another corner of the tavern. 'When the echos of the dragon's calls have finally died, Khargol returned to the road. He found a mine that smelled of death, the owner claiming that dead things had driven his workers out. Khargol entered to investigate nonetheless.' Phane shook his head. 'Madness. Why would you do that?' He read on. 'Khargol encountered draugr in the depths, slaying them until the only way forward was to jump down a sinkhole. In the crypt revealed inside, the draugr wight lord used his own thu'um to disarm Khargol, blasting his warhammer from his hands. Both test the power of their voice against one-another until Khargol, hoarse and exhausted, is the victor.

'The miners help haul him from the pit, but they have no reward to offer him. Khargol encounters forsworn in the hills, swamped by them and praying that his newly-forged dwemer armour will stop their arrows before they pierce something important. The forsworn have a camp on the exterior of an old barrow. With the forsworn dead, and the bodies moved to one side of the encampment, Khargol spends the night at the top, hoping that the broken bones he places around his bedroll will wake him should any scouts return and seek to cut his throat while he sleeps.'

Phane put the diary back on the table and finished his drink. 'Well, when you read it like that it is certainly a lot less exciting.' Drelis was still talking with the student in the corner, so Phane picked the books up off the table and walked over. 'Here you are Drelis,' he said. 'I'm off home, maybe we can continue from the second day of Hearthfire when we get back into the story tomorrow.'

24th Last Seed

The patrons in the taverns were thinning out; the candle on the table burned low, melted wax forming a rough circle at its base. The barkeep brought one final round of mead for the trio, told them that he would be closing in an hour, and left them to it.

'He'd charge you for entertaining in his establishment if he knew how good this story was, Drelis.' Phane took his tankard in both hands and stared into the golden mead. 'What happened after Nilheim? When do the dragons pop up again?'

'You have an obsession with dragons don't you? Very well, let's see if this will slake your thirst. There was no obvious way to ford the lake from Nilheim,' Drelis continued. 'Khargol and Lydia broke camp before dawn and went back to the road and found themselves traveling through a sparse forest of silver birch. When the sun rose that morning, they would learn why the region was known as the Golden High Forest.

'Before that, however, they were set upon by a pack of half-starved wolves. Khargol struck one with his axe, Lydia felled another with her bow, but the third member of the pack met an entirely unexpected end.

'The clearing shuddered without warning, a dragon landed not thirty feet from the travelers, crushing the wolf and glaring with its malevolent eyes!

'Lydia writes that she saw nothing but fire from that moment until the sun finally dawned. "The beast was unlike anything I had ever seen. It was all black scales, horns, and leathery wings. It crouched in the clearing where it had landed, locked eyes with my thane, and belched a gout of flame that burned the trees and seared the grass. Even Khargol, dragonborn or no, was overwhelmed by the dragon's unexpected appearance.

'"When we charged the beast, it took to the skies and circled around and around, bellowing its terrifying roar. There was something unearthly about its voice, something that shook me to the core. I loosed arrows at it, but the dragon took no heed. Instead it flew south of us and began breathing fire down on what turned out to be a small farm! We rushed to the farmstead's aid, sprinting up the hill to save those trapped in the burning hovels. The dragon hissed and spat more fire at us, landing in its greed and spite, to feast on the goats and char the crops.

'"Khargol gro-Mashnar took his axe to the monster's wings and neck. It snapped at him and roared, but its movements were curiously slow and uncoordinated. It tried to bite him in half, but with a side-step and turn, my thane's ancient nordic axe found a place in its throat. Blood spilled from the wound, the dragon gave one final trumpeting roar, and fell dead.

'"I found myself astonished as the dragon's corpse immediately began to burn to cinders. The flesh melted away like parchment in a fire, until only half-scorched bones remained. My thane was surrounded by a bright light that streamed from the dragon's skeleton, filling him with the dragon's energy."'

'Yes!' Phane exalted and raised his arms above his head. 'A dragon!' The few remaining patrons gave him queer looks before returning to the drinks.

'Go on, Drelis,' invited Lalaine. 'What happened next?'

'The damage to the farmstead was, thankfully, superficial,' said Drelis. 'Khargol and Lydia helped to put the fires out and made sure everyone was alright before they left. Most of the livestock had died, and some of the crops were burned to a crisp, but none of the farmers had lost their lives and counted themselves lucky to be alive, if poor.

'That afternoon, Ivarstead was finally within reach. The travelers must have looked a sight as they entered the Vilemyr Inn, their clothes, armour, and hair scorched and blackened by dragonfire. They asked about the village, and about High Hrothgar. One of the villagers made supply runs up to the temple, leaving food and provisions in a chest near the summit, but other than that there were few who made the seven-hundred steps to the top.

'Also of interest was a story the innkeep told them about the haunted barrow on the settlement's outskirts. Shroud Heart Barrow they called it. Khargol left Lydia in the inn, investigating the burial grounds himself.'

'Why would he do that?' asked Lalaine.

'Haven't you been listening?' Phane chided. 'The ancient nordic burial grounds obviously have a connection with the dragons. Khargol was probably hoping to find more secrets... right Drelis?'

'His motivation is not recording,' Drelis said with a grin. 'The revelation within, however, is.

'When Khargol entered the barrow he beheld a ghostly apparition. It warned him to stay away, but how many times have you seen an orc back down from a challenge or threat? After working his way through trapped corridors and puzzling chambers, he found the ghost and proceeded to do battle with it. When he fell, the ghost turned out to be a mortal thief who had concocted a potion that would make him appear to be ethereal.

'The thief had been seeking a jeweled claw, but his frustration and solitude had driven him mad until he truly believed that he was a phantasm of the barrow. Khargol took the thief's journal as proof to the innkeep. Interestingly enough it turned out that the innkeep had the claw the whole time; he gave it to Khargol as a reward for exorcising the barrow. I'm sure you know what comes next.'

'Another one of those doors!'

'Quite right, Lalaine. You seen, Phane? She was listening after all.' Drelis smiled at his own joke, then continued. 'When he broke the seal to the inner chambers, Khargol was ambushed by a horde of draugr. He used his thu'um to force them back, stunning them so that he might deliver the final blow to put their aged bones to rest. The final tomb was large and imposing; its undead inhabitants powerful and intimidating. But the power of the dragonborn could not be denied, and our intrepid orc warrior carved a path to the dragon word-wall mural where he learned a shout that would calm any animals that crossed his path.'

 
The barkeep cleared his throat pointedly. 'Is that a good place to leave it for now?' asked Lalaine. 'I don't want to be falling asleep at work again.'

'It's as good a place as any,' answered Drelis, draining the last of his mead and gathering his books. 'Khargol returned to the inn and spent the night there, intent on climbing the mountain at sunrise. He detailed all of the events in the barrow for Lydia to record. It seems she was intent on immortalising Khargol's deeds somehow, even if it was just in her personal diary.'

'Come on you two, we'd better not outstay our welcome any more than we already have,' Phane waved to the barkeep as they left the tavern for the night-time streets. 'Same time tomorrow?' he suggested. 'I want to hear what happened when our orc hero finally met the greybeards of High Hrothgar.'

18th Last Seed

'I love warm mead,' Phane said, lowering his tankard and sighing contentedly.

'You love anything fermented,' Lalaine remarked.

'It should get us into the right frame of mind,' Drelis said, 'The following also comes from Lydia. It seems that Khargol told her quite a bit about his introduction to Skyrim and his first impressions of the place.'

'Didn't he keep his own journal?' asked Phane.

'What did I say about interrupting?' Lalaine threatened him with her tankard.

'What a terrible waste of mead!'

'Actually Khargol did keep a diary,' Drelis explained, 'but that wasn't until much later. Here, listen to this.

'This must have been the eighteenth of Last Seed that year. Khargol was introduced to Ralof's sister, Gerdur, and brother-in-law, Hod. He spoke fondly of Hod so I presume they struck it off and became fast friends.'

'Maybe they had a drinking competition,' suggested Phane.

'Maybe. In any case, Khargol put his orcish muscles to use chopping wood and hauling lumber for Hod in the woodyard. He also met the village smith, a man named Alvor, and forged an iron warhammer that he was particularly fond of. Lydia mentions that Khargol was already familiar with blacksmithing, so one would presume that he worked as an apprentice in Orsinium.

'At any rate, Khargol also met the local trader, Lucan Valerius, who took Khargol for an adventurer or sword-for-hire and asked him to retrieve a trinket that had been stolen from his shop. The item in question was a golden claw, and it had been taken by thieves who then hid in a place called Bleak Falls Barrow, an abandoned old temple from time beyond memory. The barrow had an interesting history, but that comes later. Despite his original intentions of moving to Skyrim to pursue smithing rather than battle, Khargol agreed to climb up to Bleak Falls Barrow and retrieve the claw.

'Khargol might have been used to the climate of the Wrothgarian Mountains, but Skyrim's wind blew snow and ice mercilessly as he ascended the mountain slope. The warhammer must have felt like it was frozen in his palms when he finally reached the barrow, but I'm sure he was glad of it when he encountered the bandits who had stolen the claw!

'Khargol fought his way into the barrow. He had some experience with warhammers and battleaxes, and he had little to worry about from petty thieves and their meager equipment.

'Within the ruins, our brave orc warrior found one of the bandits stuck in the webbing of a gigantic frost spider! Such a terrible creature might have slain a weaker opponent, but Khargol's orcish rage gave him the strength to slay the monster and free the unfortunate thief. Lydia suggests that the thief was unwilling to part with the claw, and tried to double-cross Khargol. More fool him. Khargol chased him down and took the claw by force, leaving the thief in a pool of his own blood.

'Deeper within the ruins, Khargol found the dead themselves defending the secrets of Bleak Falls Barrow. Undead nords, called draugr, attacked him in the catacombs; but their old bones shattered and their dried skin split under the weight of Khargol's warhammer.

'Finally, after battling fearsome draugr and avoiding deadly traps, Khargol found the door to the inner sanctum of the barrow. The golden claw itself proved to be the key to unlocking the door; it appears that the bandits stole it from Lucan in Riverwood with the intention of using it to unlock an even greater chamber within the barrows.

'The inner sanctum was some kind of ancient nordic shrine to the dragons they used to worship ages ago. There was a wall engraved with writings in the old dragon language, and its power drew Khargol like a moth to the flame. When he was close enough, the mural bestow upon him the power of the dragon tongue itself! The power to shout the dragon language and invoke its power, like in the stories of King Wulfharth.'

'That's amazing!' said Lalaine. 'I've read The Five Songs of King Wulfharth, but didn't the thru'um require a special power to use? It wasn't just knowing the dragon language that allowed him to use the power of the voice was it? Something else was required.'

'Ah, I see you have read more than just novels and play-scripts.' Drelis took advantage of the pause to sip his mead. It had gone cold, but remained sweet.

'More than just the one about the argonian maid at least,' laughed Phane. Lalaine picked up one of the books to hit him with but Drelis grabbed her arm.

'Not that one, if you please,' he retrieved the book and placed it on the far side of the table. 'That one is particularly important. In fact, all of these are important. Without them, I would only be able to recount the empire's loose records of what happened in Skyrim around the time of the stormcloak rebellion and the return of the dragons. Do you want to know what else Khargol found in Bleak Falls Barrow?

'From a sarcophagus in the middle of the chamber rose a draugr overlord much more powerful than the ones gro-Mashnar had faced so far. It used the shout that Khargol had just learned, and Khargol learned that it was a power to be respected. After a bloody struggle, Khargol finally defeated the undead monstrosity and took its enchanted axe as a trophy.

'He also found a stone tablet with what appeared to be a map etched into its surface. He took it out of interest before leaving the tomb with perhaps more questions than answers.'