26th Last Seed

'Don't tell me that we've got to listen to their journey back to Whiterun,' complained Phane. 'Are there at least some dragons to fight on the way?'

Lalaine shook her head impatiently, rolling her eyes.

'Never fear,' Drelis assured him. 'Khargol and Lydia were in agreement the next morning that they should find a quicker route back to Whiterun. They asked a local hunter who pointed them down a game-trail that followed the river to a waterfall. If they could find a place to ford the river, they would be able to climb down the hills to the valley near Fort Amol.'

'Is that what they did then?' asked Phane.

'It was. They encountered a small pack of wolves, but it was nothing that two capable warriors couldn't handle. The walk was much easier than the one they had endured to get to Ivarstead two days ago, and a thick blanket of mist weaved its way through the trees below so that the forest appeared almost like a grey ocean littered with small green boats.'

'Did nothing happen on the way back then?' Lalaine sounded disappointed. 'Nothing at all?'

'Nothing of importance to the story,' Drelis admitted. 'There are notes in the diary about a small camp of outlaws, the scenery, a traveler smuggling moon sugar between holds, and strange lights that danced between the trees as they made their way through the woods. But nothing, like I said, of great importance.'

'So, when they got back to Whiterun, what then?'

'Well, Khargol spent a lot of time on the Warmaiden's forge, as you might expect. He improved the equipment that he and Lydia were using and forged some helms and blades for the town's guard. He might be dragonborn, but it seems that his goal of becoming a master smith was still quite important to him.'

'He must have spent a lot on raw materials,' said Lalaine.

'I believe so,' Drelis checked a diary entry. 'Khargol turned in the bounty for the bandits at the Varthiem Towers, so I should think that his reward helped with any financial costs he ran into. It seems that he had enough left over to buy property in Whiterun though, so he cannot have suffered too badly in the blacksmith's workshop.

'The house was called Breezeholm; it was largely unfurnished though, so unfortunately it lived up to its name. It was dusty and home to more cobwebs than items of furniture.

'And there you have it. Lydia's records of Khargol's movements have a large gap in them from this point. He tasked her with guarding his household, such as it was, and was gone before sunrise the next morning.'

'Where did he go?' asked Phane. 'Did he just disappear?'

'Almost,' Drelis spread his hands over the leather-bound diary. 'He had to find the horn of Jurgen Windcaller, and there were many tombs that hid secrets unseen for a thousand years. But don't worry, we know his movements. The accounts are not precise or complete, but that doesn't mean we can't build a rough picture of what went on.'

'So what did Lydia do until he came back?' Phane asked.

'What would you do?' Lalaine shot back at him. 'Your patron has left you to look after his house while he goes off to uncover lost tombs and look for legendary artifacts. You have no duties except to keep the house safe from intruders, and the local ruler provides you with a supplementary wage with which you can buy any food and drink you might need.'

'Well,' pondered Phane. 'That sounds a lot like my life already.'

The others groaned.

25th Last Seed

'Drelis, you're late.' Phane pulled a chair out at the table. 'Did they keep you long at the library?'

'My apologies, friends.' Drelis looked pleased with himself, as if nothing was wrong. 'I was engaged in a rather heated bargain with a traveler who wished to sell some old journals. I tried to convince him to donate them instead but...'

Phane interrupted. 'Woah, woah. That's not the story we were waiting to hear.' He sat down and pushed a tankard of ale across the table. Lalaine scowled at him, but offered no retort.

'Ah yes, forgive me.' He looked over the table and frowned. 'Where is the mead?'

'The barkeep ran out of mead,' explained Lalaine. 'So we'll have to put up with beer or ale unless we can all afford wine.'

'On the plus side, the beef stew is remarkably good today,' added Phane.

'Alright then, where did we get to?' Drelis had only brought a single book with him this evening; it was Lydia's diary, or at least a copy of it. 'Ah yes, the climb to High Hrothgar. Now, neither of you have ever been to Skyrim have you?'

'Nor have you,' said Phane pointedly.

'I was just going to say that the Throat of the World is one of Tamriel's tallest mountains. Only Vvardenfell's Red Mountain ever stood higher. The Wrothgarians, Dragon Tail, and Jerral mountains do not compare, mighty as they are.' Drelis held his hands out, framing the scene in his mind. 'Can you imagine the dizzying height? The view from the slopes must be breathtaking, and the winds fierce.' He stirred from his reverie. 'But back to the story. Khargol and Lydia had rented rooms at the Vilemyr Inn, remember? They left before dawn. A solitary hunter greeted them on the lower slopes, making his way back down the mountain after a pilgrimage to the top. He warned Lydia and Khargol to watch their footing, there were drifts of snow on the mountain that could shift and slip away without warning.

'As they climbed higher and higher, they felt the temperature drop. Snow fell, lightly, obscuring their vision. Distant peaks became grey silhouettes, indeterminable shapes rising out of the earth to touch the sky.

'I can only imagine what a formidable sight the mountain must be from its base. To see that you have so far to climb must be daunting at first. Lydia writes that she tried to count the seven-hundred steps, but lost count at three-hundred odd and tried to focus on keeping her footing.

'There was another pilgrim on the path, meditating before a shrine. There was a number of shrines on the way to the top; when read in order they explained, in simple terms, man's first struggle to break the chains of their tyrannical dragon overlords.'

'And I'd wager there are books you can read at home, warm and cozy, that go into more detail.'

'Phane, you really are hopeless.' Lalaine put a hand to her head. 'It's not about reading the inscriptions, it's about climbing the mountain to read the inscriptions. The physical effort required is like a... a...'

'A form of meditation,' finished Drelis. 'Your mind must be clear and focused on one thing. The remote solitude, the mountain air, the silence of the snowfall. The experience must be quite humbling. I would be overjoyed with the opportunity to attempt the pilgrimage, but I doubt I'd make it half way to the top in my current condition; I've never been one for physical labour or long hikes through the countryside. But two strong, fit, healthy warriors with the determination of having Skyrim's fate in their hands? Two adventurers who had been summoned to the peak for the first time in as long as anyone can remember? Well, even they had trouble!

'Lydia mentions that they stopped several times before the top. She says that the air became thin towards the summit, that their breathing was harder and more laboured. They were both exhausted by the time they reached the gates of High Hrothgar itself.'

'And now we get to hear about the greybeards!' Lalaine said excitedly. 'Come on Drelis, don't stop now.'

'As you wish. When the duo entered the halls of High Hrothgar, the greybeards appeared to greet them. The greybeard who spoke to them was named Arngeir. He was one of four, and the only one who was not silent for the encounter. The voices of the greybeards were so powerful that they could kill with a whisper, kill with a word, and bring down a mountain with a shout.' The looks on the faces of Phane and Lalaine amused Drelis greatly. 'Arngeir asked Khargol to prove his ability with the voice, the thu'um as he called it. He spoke of destiny and the dragonborn. Tiber Septim himself, before he was known as Talos, had journeyed to High Hrothgar to seek tutelage from the greybeards in ages past.

'Khargol left Lydia to warm her feet by the fire, joining the greybeards in the courtyard beyond to learn more about the voice. Anyone can learn the secrets of the thu'um, you see, but only a dragonborn could learn to shout in the ancient dragon tongue ask quickly and easily as Khargol was doing.

'When Khargol returned to Lydia, he explained that he had a quest to fulfill for the greybeards so that they might tutor him further. Khargol was to recover the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller from an ancient barrow in the Hjaalmarch.

'And so they began their descent back down to Ivarstead.'

'Wait, that's it?' asked Phane. 'That was all that happened at High Hrothgar? Some history and diction lessons? Surely there was more to it than that.'

'Ah, but they were very important history and diction lessons,' mocked Drelis. 'The shouts that Khargol learned from the greybeards were vital to his success. Not only that, but his time at High Hrothgar served to foreshadow that which would come later. You see, there were not four greybeards on the mountain, but five. The true master of the voice lived on the very peak of the mountain in solitude and contemplation. To meet him though, no, Khargol was not yet ready to withstand the trials he would have to face.'

'So... so finding the horn, it was a test of some kind?' asked Lalaine.

'You could say that. When we next hear about High Hrothgar, I think you might understand. Let's not get distracted though, there is only a little more to read in this day's entry.' Drelis licked his thumb and turned a page in the old diary. 'As they made their way down the mountain, Khargol saw the aurora dancing in the sky for the first time.'

'An aura? Is this a magical thing?'

'Not an aura, the aurora. The northern lights. It's a celestial phenomenon,' Drelis explained. 'Imagine, if you can, great bands of green and turquoise light waving slowly and majestically across the sky. Scholars and mages have debated the lights' origins and purpose but an agreement has never been made. All those who have documented it have described it as a beautiful sight and something that every traveler should see before they are too old to wander the world.

'It was full night before Khargol and Lydia returned to Ivarstead. They rented their rooms at the Vilemyr inn again, thankful for the much-needed warmth and comfort that a straw-filled mattress could provide.'

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.'