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.'

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.'

30th Last Seed

This time it was Lalaine who was last to arrive at the tavern. 'A late delivery,' she explained. 'I had to wait for it to arrive before I could leave. Where were we?'

'Drelis says that we've skipped a day ahead,' Phane complained. 'Our orcish smith is returning to Whiterun from Falkreath.'

Drelis held out his hands to pacify his friends. 'You aren't missing anything, I assure you. Khargol has trekked around Lake Ilinalta looking for more barrows. The word wall murals within each teach him the words of those powerful shouts the dragonborn can use, so he has tasked himself with finding as many as possible.'

'Did he find any then?' asked Lalaine, taking her seat.

'I'm afraid not, at least not as far as Lydia's records show.' Drelis had some new books on the table, books that Phane and Lalaine had not seen before. 'These are journals and copies of official records from Markarth, the western-most town,' he explained. 'It is the seat of power in The Reach, home to the barbaric forsworn.'

'Who are the forsworn?' asked Lalaine.

'That is a question that Khargol himself had to answer for himself,' Drelis revealed. 'You might wonder how Khargol came to visit Markarth in the first place. Well, I can't quite explain that myself. Lydia's diary says that he returned to Whiterun after questing for the hidden word walls in barrows and tombs, only to disappear that same night without warning or explanation. He had paid for Breezeholm's renovation, traded in the town, worked at the forge... but he did not return from the tavern that evening.'

'Did Lydia go looking for him?'

'She writes that she wanted to do so. Her thane had disappeared in the dead of night without a trace. Should she abandon Breezeholm to go looking for him, or remain in Whiterun like she had been told to? She was his representative to the jarl and the townsfolk in his absence, after all. It must have been a difficult decision.

'But, like I said, Khargol turns up in Markarth the very next day. And it is not a short journey by any means.

'Markarth is a town built into the mountainside. It is rock and stone, unlikely to be burned down by dragonfire. Still, it had its share of problems, including corruption, daedra worship, the Thalmor, and the forsworn. The town had a shrine to Talos, but it was cobwebbed and dusty. No doubt the Thalmor ambassador that paced the halls of the jarl's court was petitioning to have the shrine torn down and replaced. The town is famous for its mines, smelters, and smithy. But Markarth's wealth was not counted solely in silver; there were expansive ruins of dwemer origin beneath the city, deep and mysterious, not to mention dangerous.

'The forsworn, it turns out, are nords who are dedicated to "the old ways". They dress in animal furs and make pacts with the dark denizens of the night. The Reach was littered with their camps, and they had no love for the nords of Markarth and the other towns, let alone outsiders. Khargol witnessed a forsworn agent killing an imperial visitor to Markarth in plain sight. He found himself being pulled deeper into the conspiracy of these forsworn assassins living within Markarth's walls.'

'What do you mean "conspiracy"?' asked Phane. 'You said that the forsworn were barbarians. How can they have a conspiracy if they all live in the hills, baying at the moon?'

'Ah, well that's just what Khargol was about to find out.'

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.

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.

20th Last Seed

'Are you sure your father won't mind you borrowing that wine?'

'You worry too much, Lalaine.' Phane set the keg on the table and placed three tankards in front of it. 'He'll never even notice that it's gone. The old man spends most of his days blind drunk anyway, he'll think he drank it himself.' He sat down and wiped his brow. 'Where did we get to?'

'Khargol was travelling to Whiterun, to tell the jarl of the dragon attack at Helgen.' Lalaine moved her tankard underneath the keg's tap while Phane poured.

'Quite right,' said Drelis. 'Again, we have the housecarl Lydia to thank for recording Khargol's actions before he arrived in Whiterun; it seems she was genuinely interested in how he had come to Skyrim, so she wrote down everything he told her.

'The road between Riverwood and Whiterun is fairly quiet. There are some notes about wolves and waterfalls, but nothing significant. On the road, Khargol met an imperial couple headed to a very important wedding at Solitude; a Companion named Aela who had slain a giant; and the owner of the Honningbrew meadery. When he arrived at the gates of Whiterun he was warned by a wagon-driver about a family feud going on in the town - the Greymanes and the Battleborns. It didn't seem important to Khargol at the time, but eventually he discovered its significance.

'Even from beyond the walls, the jarls' hall of Dragonsreach must have looked very impressive. It has an interesting history, but that's for another time. One of the sentries on the gate told Khargol that there would be no entry into the town until the rumours of dragons abroad in Skyrim could be confirmed or denied; but he soon changed his tune when Khargol explained that he had to see the jarl about Riverwood's defences.

'I also note that Lydia disapproved of the jarl agreeing to close Whiterun's gates. She asks what use wooden gates would be against a creature that can both fly and breath fire. She suggests that the gates would either trap refugees outside the walls, or trap townsfolk within the walls if the dragon flew over the gates to begin laying waste to the settlement.'

'Was there a smithy in Whiterun?' Lalaine sipped her wine, still impressed by the number of books that Drelis had brought for just one story.

'Of course, and a fine smithy it was too. Warmaiden's it was called, and Khargol spent some time using both the smelter and the forge, selling what he didn't need to the blacksmith.

'Choosing not to be distracted by all that the town had to offer, Khargol headed up to Dragonsreach just as the heavens opened and it began to rain. I am sure Skyrim's rain is enough to drive even the hardiest orc indoors, and its snow doubly so. Within Dragonsreach, Khargol came face-to-face with Irileth, the jarl's housecarl.'

'What's a housecarl?' asked Phane.

'Housecarls are bodyguards and personal attendants to the jarls and thanes of Skyrim. They are sworn to protect their charges with their lives if necessary, and they are all capable warriors.

'Irileth was keen to see this heavily-armed orc gone from the hall, but Jarl Balgruuf the Greater asked Khargol to step forward and explain himself. The jarl was eager to protect Riverwood and to hear more about the dragon that had attacked Helgen. Khargol told him all that he could, and so the jarl introduced him to the castle mage, Farengar Secret-Fire.

'Farengar told Khargol about ancient nord barrows and crypts built when the nords still worshipped dragons and employed dragon priests as go-betweens between man and beast. He spoke of a stone tablet called a dragon stone which could be found in Bleak Falls Barrow, not far from Riverwood.'

'Hang on...' Phane started, but Drelis smiled held up a hand for quiet.

'Khargol had, of course, already delved into the depths of Bleak Falls Barrow. He produced the dragon stone tablet for Farengar to study, much to the wizard's delight.'

'That was handy,' chortled Lalaine. 'Can you imagine having to trek all the way back into the foothills just to find a dusty old tablet.'

'It was more than just an age-old relic,' explained Drelis. 'As I mentioned before, it acted as a map to the barrows where the shouts of the ancient dragon language could be found engraved upon those impressive walls.

'It was just then that a town guard rushed into the hall, shouting and waving his arms. A dragon had been spotted just beyond the walls at the western watchtower!'

Lalaine gasped, Phane grinned. 'At last! Come on, what happened next?'

'Fill my wine cup for me and I'll tell you.' Drelis took a mouthful of wine and sighed contentedly. 'This next part of the story is taken from the personal records of Irileth, the jarls' housecarl. The jarl ordered Khargol to accompany Irileth to the watchtower to drive the dragon away from the town. Although he had fled from Helgen like anyone else with any sense, our hero was still the most experienced person in Whiterun when it came to dragons.

'Irileth took a small number of guardsmen with them to the watchtower. I cannot imagine their trepidation as they made their way along the road that night, torches in hand, the watchtower burning in the distance. The tower had become a ruin, burning and crumbling even as the party approached it. A lone survivor cowered amongst the smoking stones, urging them to flee before they drew the monster back.

'But it was too late. The beast descended on the soldiers, its black scales gleaming in the firelight, its eyes hunting the easiest prey to devour! It breathed its fearsome dragonfire, illuminating the night and filling it with a terrifying roar. Khargol ran this way and that, avoiding the fires and the dragon's great tail until he was close enough to take his axe to it.

'The soldiers used Khargol's distraction as an opportunity to loose arrows at it. As the dragon turned its head, Khargol climbed atop its craggy brow and drove his axe into its neck again and again until the monster gave a final, dreadful howl and slumped, lifeless, to the ground.'

'Wow!'

'That's incredible,' Lalaine breathed. 'He actually fought the dragon with an axe? How could you bring yourself to get so close to such a frightening creature? Wasn't he scared?'

'It doesn't say.' Drelis shrugged and spread his hands above the old diary. 'I can't imagine that he simply waltzed up to the dragon without a care in the world, but at the same time there is something to be said for our hero's courage and tenacity. Irileth's exact words are as follows "the orc showed little fear in the face of such a terrible beast. He spoke not a single word or battle cry as he took to it with his axe, hacking and chopping without remorse or hesitation. More than once he was caught by the dragon's fiery breath, but he shrugged off his injuries and continued his attack. When the beast fell to his furious assault, its skull cracked open, he simply stood and watched it burn away until it was naught but bones, a strange light in his otherwise dark eyes." But this is the really interesting part, listen to to this.

'As the dragon's body burned away, swirling streams of bright energy swept through the air and surrounded Khargol, filling him with some arcane force. He felt a power rising within in him and suddenly, without warning, he shouted the word he had learned in Bleak Falls Barrow, the thu'um of the dragon language! The soldiers saw it and called him dragonborn, although they could scarcely believe their own eyes.

'Irileth urged Khargol to return to Whiterun and tell the jarl all that had happened at the watchtower. But even as Khargol walked the road back to the town, the intrigue of the story deepens. There was a thunderous crack and a booming voice that echoed over the plains. "DOVAHKIIN!" the echoing voices called.

'The jarl was relieved to hear that the dragon was slain, and that Khargol and Irileth had survived. He and his court advisers told what they could of dragonborn and shouts and the greybeards of High Hrothgar. Hrongar, the jarl's brother, explained that the thunder they had heard after the dragon had died was the greybeards of High Hrothgar calling the dragonborn to their monastery atop the Throat of the World, the tallest mountain in Skyrim.

'For his bravery and service, Jarl Balgruuf named Khargol a thane of Whiterun and awarded him with the enchanted Axe of Whiterun.

'This is also where the records return to those written down by the housecarl Lydia. She meets Khargol that very night, and is charged with protecting him with her life.'