5th Hearthfire

The trio met in Drelis' house. Phane brought the drinks to last them through the night while Lalaine brought some food from the castle larders.

'Are you sure they won't mind you taking that bread and cheese?' Phane asked.

'They won't miss it, put it that way,' replied Lalaine. 'There is enough mature cheese in the cellars for a dozen banquets, and we get fresh bread delivered every day. The count would not deign to eat day-old bread.'

'I'm afraid I have little for the two of you today,' Drelis apologised.

'I've been thinking,' started Phane; his friends rolled their eyes. 'This story could actually get a little repetitive. I mean, I am sure it was exciting at the time; but when it is retold to us it seems like "Khargol traveled here, smithed, traveled there, delved into a barrow, traveled here, spoke to Lydia..." it might be more interesting if he took more companions on his travels.'

'He has a point,' remarked Lalaine, unbelieving. 'Perhaps we should skip to the important parts.'

Drelis sat thinking for a moment. 'I suppose we could,' he faltered. 'But without all of the details...'

'The details are going to disappear in the mundane parts of the story, I fear.' Phane began pouring the drinks.

'Very well. Allow me to go over the events of this next day in brief then.

'Khargol returned to Whiterun and left Uthgerd at the tavern. She was not pleased, as you can imagine, and Khargol had made certain she knew that he would not be asking her assistance again. Her performance in the draugr barrow did not fill him with confidence. She might have started another brawl with him for satisfaction, but it seems she still remembered the last fist-fight she had gotten into.

'On the Warmaiden's forge, Khargol demonstrated the knowledge that he had gained so far on his travels. He forged the heavy armour of the orcs, and the keen weapons of the elves with equal skill. The jarl was more than happy to outfit his men with such fine arms, eagerly paying the marked-down price Khargol offered for his services.

'This, however, caused a sudden rivalry between Khargol and Eorlund Gray-Mane, the master-smith of the Skyforge. Khargol had intended on seeking out Eorlund's tutelage but the old man refused to teach him anything. Skyforged steel was the only steel good enough for the Companions, and everyone coveted such weaponry; but with Khargol giving the jarl's men elven weapons, the attention had been drawn from the skyforge and turned on this foreign orc smith.

'Lydia agreed to stay in Whiterun to negotiate with the jarl and the Companions to make sure that there would be no ill will on Khargol's return. Khargol himself left for Dawnstar, his first stop on his way to the horn of Jurgen Windcaller.

'On the road, Khargol came across a frightened woman who pleaded him for help. Most people would have to be desperate to ask a wandering orc for help, so Khargol knew that she must be at her wits' end. She explained that she had escaped from a place called Mistwatch, an old fort that had been taken over by bandits and was being used to house captives taken in the bandits' raids. The bandits were keeping the people like cattle and trying to ransom them back to their families. The woman had escaped and was trying to find a town in which she could seek refuge.

'Khargol pointed her in the direction of Whiterun, offering to escort her the rest of the way. She turned down his offer and ran off, marking on his map the location of the bandit stronghold.'

'That was unexpected,' Phane mused.

'Let me just get to this part,' Drelis said, licking his lips. 'As the tundra turned to snow-covered plain and forest, Khargol experienced true cold that evening. A creature known as an ice wraith, serpentine and frozen to the core, attacked him as he traveled. Khargol had read about such creatures, but had not been unfortunate enough to come across one. When he passed from Whiterun Hold into The Pale, he found that they were just lying in wait under the snow for unawares travelers.

'Such creatures are difficult to make out in the snowy landscape. They seem to be made of ice, and they attack their prey by driving their cruel icy bodies again and again into the warm bodies that intrude in their territory. It was only by slashing blindly at the evil creature that Khargol was finally able to smash it to pieces and save himself from a frigid fate.'

'Ice wraiths?' Phane frowned. 'Never heard of them.'

'They must be indigenous to Skyrim,' suggested Lalaine. 'Are they some form of ghost or daedra?'

'To be perfectly honest, I am not sure,' Drelis admitted. 'What is certain from Khargol's account of them is that they are extremely dangerous creatures and most unlike anything else you are likely to come across, even in a potentially cold place like Skyrim.'

21st Last Seed

Phane fidgeted in his seat. 'Khargol is taking all this in his stride isn't he?'

'What do you mean?' asked Drelis.

'Well, I mean he traveled to Skyrim to start a new life, as a blacksmith or ironmonger I presume; but since crossing the border he has been up for execution, foiled a bandit plot, explored a forgotten tomb, learned an ancient magical power, slain a dragon, and been elevated to the status of thane. I'm guessing that he didn't just pack it all in for the quiet life he originally sought out, otherwise you wouldn't still have a dozen books lying in front of you.'

'As always Phane, your brilliance seems undeserved of someone with such low aspirations.' Drelis smiled and picked up his wine cup. 'Consider that orcs have been known to be natural warriors, adventurers, and fighters. They are capable of living in harsh conditions through the most trying of times; ideal candidates for the trials Skyrim had to offer. Khargol gro-Mashnar may have wanted to be a master smith when he first arrived in Skyrim, but now he is being called dragonborn and seeing things that no one has seen for thousands and thousands of years. Do you know whom had the honour to be the last dragonborn in Tamriel?'

'Martin Septim!' Lalaine cried. 'He was the last of the Septim bloodline wasn't he? The last Septim emperor.'

'Quite right, and that was almost two centuries before Khargol was even born. If you, Phane, were the first dragonborn in Tamriel for two hundred years, what would you do?'

'I'd get people to respect me, surely,' Phane thumped his chest, grinning broadly. 'If the emperors used to be dragonborn, why not elect me emperor if I'm dragonborn too?' He laughed at his own joke, much to the chagrin of his friends.

'I'm glad the responsibility of battling dragons never fell on your shoulders, Phane.' Lalaine pulled a face and shook her head slowly. 'What happened next, Drelis? Did Khargol go straight to High Hrothgar to meet the greybeards?'

'I'm glad you asked,' said Drelis, returning to his place in the old journal. 'Jarl Balgruuf had much to say about dragonborn, it seems. The jarl, the castle steward, and the castle mage, all told Khargol what they could about dragons, dragonborn, and the greybeards.'

'So, who were the greybeards?' asked Lalaine. 'We know they live in High Hrothgar on the Throat of the World, but what do they have to do with the dragonborn?'

'Ah, well Lydia writes that Khargol spoke of them as "masters of the voice", the power to shout in the ancient dragon language. You see, it is not necessary to be dragonborn in order to use a thru'um, and the greybeards dedicated their entire lives to studying it. To be summoned to High Hrothgar was a great honour.

'Khargol spent the next day in Whiterun, buying supplies and trying to find out as much as possible about the journey that lay ahead of him. He visited Jorrvaskr, the mead hall of the Companions. The Companions function in a similar way to the empire's Fighters Guild, but Khargol did not make much progress with them. He found the Companions brusque and stand-offish. You might think that an orc would shrug it off and sign their charter regardless, but Khargol was looking for help climbing the Throat of the World rather than the responsibilities of joining a warrior company.

'Lydia also mentions that Khargol said the companions "reminded him too much of Orsinium," and that "he was no longer a mercenary, blind to all but gold," which probably reveals a little about his history, don't you agree?

'The companions did help in some small way, however. Just beyond Jorrvaskar, the master smith, Eorlund Grey-Mane, worked the Sky Forge, making the finest weapons and armour known to Skyrim. Khargol was eager to learn from the likes of Eorlund, but little is revealed about what they discussed. From Lydia's scant records on the subject, it appears that Eorlund dismissed Khargol as an amateur and did not take him seriously.'

'That's a shame,' mumbled Lalaine. 'I suppose being dragonborn doesn't guarantee that everyone will take you seriously.'

'Quite, but Khargol's smithing days are not yet over. He simply picks up the trade a little later on.

'There were a few other events of small importance in Whiterun. Khargol got into two fist-fights in the Bannered Mare tavern, spoke with a pair of armed redguard envoys who claimed to be searching for a fugitive from Hammerfell, and aided a priest named Andurs who, in Khargol's opinion, "sounded more like a thief than a priest" although he does not go into detail as to why.

'After preparing for the journey ahead, Khargol spent the night in the Bannered Mare. The next morning, he requested that Lydia accompany him on the road to High Hrothgar.'

'Now we're getting somewhere!' cried Phane, rubbing his eyes. 'What time is it?'

'Is that the sun?' Lalaine asked, startled by the glow of dawn that was creeping in through the shutters.