Deep breaths. That’s all I need to take right now. Just live in the moment. Sorry, trying to calm down. It’s been a long day or two, and writing all of this out is like reliving it, in a way.
Okay. So. We were… fighting… this dragon. It probably would have felt more epic to me had I been on the ground, but I think epic is overrated. I was on top of the watchtower, and I shot the dragon in the wing with my arrow, which barely did anything, other than get its attention, which I frankly did not want. It flew up above me and then landed with a loud and windy THWUMP on top of the tower, much like its fellow dragon had done at Helgen’s Keep. I had only been THWUMPED at by a dragon twice, but I was already growing tired of it.
As I ducked back inside the tower, I could have sworn I heard it actually say in a low gravelly voice, “I forgot what fun mortals can provide.” Glad we could be some source of amusement for you, then. One of the guards meanwhile got in a lucky shot, and the dragon fell to the ground and started kinda walking along the ground on its haunches, lashing out at anyone it could.
Foolishly, I ran back downstairs to help, drawing my bow as I did so. And though I’d be lying if I said Irileth and her cohorts didn’t do most of the work, I can technically say I made the killing shot. It reared its head up towards the sky and shouted, “Dovahkiin?! Noooooo!” Or maybe it said Donut King. It was hard to be sure.
So that was that, then, right? A nearby guard said “I’m glad you’re on our side.” Thanks, I’m glad you’re glad. But then Irileth said, “Make sure it’s dead.” Um, no thanks. I had done what I’d agreed to do, and was ready to call it a night. Or day, rather. I was exhausted.
Several other city guards showed up at this point, for all the good it did. Which was none. They were just gawkers at this point. One of them said, “We taught that dragon not to mess with Whiterun, didn’t we!” Not really. Killing is not an effective teaching method. But nobody around here seemed to understand that.
Anyway, I decided to let them worry about the cleanup. I went back to Whiterun to let the Jarl know it was done.
I should have felt good about how things went; relaxed, even. But I still felt tense. It was like… well, imagine if your life had an ambient soundtrack. Now imagine there was music that signified an ongoing battle. For me, that music was still playing, figuratively speaking of course. When normally it would have stopped after a fight. So that was unsettling.
I found Balgruuf lounging in his throne, as though his town hadn’t just been saved from certain firey ruin.
I strode up proudly before him and declared, “The dragon is dead.” Well, a dragon. As there was clearly two of them now.
He didn’t even change expression. “That may be true, but I ordered Irileth to bring back proof. You’d best report back to her at once.” What? Forget you, man. You’re not the boss of me, I don’t care if you are the Jarl.
What I said instead was, “Whose side are you on?”
He replied, “If it’s the war you’re referring to, I’m on the side of Whiterun.” That wasn’t what I was referring to, but way to state the obvious there. “No doubt General Tullius and his friends in the Empire will tell you that I owe them my loyalty. And perhaps I do. Ulfric Stormcloak would say I owe my allegiance to the Nord people as they fight for Skyrim’s independence. Perhaps this is also true. The day might come when I am forced to draw my sword for one side or the other. But that day has not come yet.” So, it is not this day, then? I believe that is what he meant to say.
Apparently I was in an interrogative mood, as I asked, “How can you protect Whiterun from dragons?”
“With good planning and constant vigilance,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Even now, my court wizard, Ferengar, continues his research into ways we might drive back these terrors.” I had yet to see anything that proved to me that Ferengar was a wizard, but okay. “We must also have ample reserves of water to combat the fires that will surely spread after an attack. But our greatest weapon?” An ancient black arrow?
“Courage.” Oh. “For if we cannot kill the beast, we must at least have the tenacity to drive it back.”
I quickly deduced that I was wasting my time. I still had a bit of energy, post-battle, so I left Whiterun again, mounted my horse, and headed back to Riverwood. I had an idea. Ignoring the ongoing tense ambience in my head, I entered the store of Lucan and his sister.
He greeted me with his timeworn classic, “Show those thieves not to steal from Lucan Valerius!”
Finally I was able to tell him, “I have the Golden Claw.” Why I could not tell him before, I still did not know.
He was thrilled. “You found it! Ha ha ha! There it is. Strange… it seems smaller than I remember. Funny thing, huh?” Yeah, hilarious. “I’m gonna put this back where it belongs. I’ll… I’ll never forget this. You’ve done a great thing for me and my sister.” Yes, I know.
He then sat it down on the counter, in full view of anyone and everyone who would come in. Huh. So, that’s where it belongs, eh? No wonder it was stolen. I would steal it again myself, were I not so relieved to be rid of it. He gave me 400 gold, which was far more than the thing was worth. I guessed it had sentimental value.
His sister chimed in as well with “It means so much to us to have the claw back where it belongs. Thank you!” You’re welcome! Is what I would have said were I capable of more frequent speech. I made an additional mental note to ask the court wizard about that as well, before realizing the irony of that notion.
I smiled mutely at them and went back outside and got back on Skype. I wanted to try something, a suspicion that I now had. I rode at breakneck speed to the nearest non-gated border. Sure enough, my suspicions were confirmed. I still could not leave. So the claw was just a red herring, though not nearly as tasty. Mmm, now I wanted herring. Anyway, I wasn’t surprised at this point, but I had wanted to make sure. I was become resigned to being stuck here for the moment. Which was fine, as I had already determined to not leave until I had enough to show for my troubles.
Eventually I rode back to Irileth by the Watchtower, who hours later was still standing stupidly next to the dead dragon, along with her soldiers. As I got closer, suddenly the dragon started to burst into flames or something. I immediately goaded Skype into a gallop to get away in case it should happen to explode. We were maybe a hundred or more yards away from it, when I was enveloped by a shimmering, swirling mist of sorts that seemed to go inside me, which didn’t make me particularly happy. At the same time, there seemed to be a distant roll of thunder. It was needlessly dramatic. I looked over my shoulder behind me at the guards in the distance. I couldn’t tell if they’d noticed what had happened or not.
As we neared the city gates, the whole area shook violently as if with an earthquake, and a low, distant voice said, “Donut Kiiing!” It made me hungry for pastries. I dismounted and walked up to the gate, where a guard said, “By Ysmir, you did it! You killed a dragon!” Wow, word travelled fast. I turned to the other guard, who said, “There’s been talk amongst the guards. That you are… Dragonborn. But such a thing… surely that’s not possible.”
Of course it wasn’t possible. What was he even talking about? And why would they be talking about me? And when would they have been talking about it? The dragon hadn’t been dead all that long, and only exploded a few minutes ago. Realizing this, I wondered if Irileth was okay. I also realized I still didn’t have the tangible “proof” the Jarl was complaining about earlier, which was my whole reason for heading back to Irileth in the first place.
The word “Dragonborn” rang a bell for some reason. I rummaged through my stuff, and there it was, the book I’d stolen – I mean borrowed – from Alvor’s house, “The Book of the Dragonborn.” I had meant to read this when I was bored, but I hadn’t managed to be bored in a while. I pawed through the book to get a sense of what they were talking about. It said, “Many people have heard the term ‘Dragonborn’ – we are of course ruled by Dragonborn Emperors…” I checked the copyright on the book. Ah, this was from the reign of King Pelagius the Mad. I mean the IV. I continued reading, “But the true meaning of the term is not commonly understood.” Well, that much was clear.
I started walking back toward the watchtower as I read, hoping to meet up with Irileth along the way to make sure she had that proof we needed. “For those of us in the Order of Talos–” Oh, TALOS. Not towels. That makes much more sense now. “–this is a subject near and dear to our hearts.” Aww. “Most scholars agree… blah, blah… Covenant of Akotosh… St. Alesia… Amulet of Kings… Dragonfires in the Temple of the One.” Wow, if I ever had difficulty falling asleep, this book would do the trick.
From what I was reading, it was saying that the Imperial line descended from those blessed by Akatosh, gifted with dragon blood, also known as “The Dragonborn.” What this had to do with me, or why guards would be talking about me in this way, I had no idea. Was it because I killed the dragon? Was it because he called me the Donut King? I did not know. I decided not to worry about it, as the guards were just weird anyway.
I reached the Watchtower and looked around for Irileth, and saw her walking in circles. A nearby guard said to me, “If you really are Dragonborn, like out of the old tales, you ought to be able to shout. Can you? Have you tried?” I ignored him, because what else could I do? I waited for Irileth to stop her pacing, but still the guard yammered. “They say the Dragonborn can shout without any training. Like Talos himself.” That’s nice. She seemed lost in thought, so I walked up to her to get her attention. “Go ahead,” said the guard behind me. “Try to shout.”
Finally she noticed me, and said, “That was the hairiest fight I’ve ever been in, and I’ve been in a few.” I didn’t doubt it. “I don’t know about this Dragonborn business,” neither do I, “but I’m sure glad you’re with us. You better get back to Whiterun right away. Jarl Balgruuf will want to know what happened here.” Yes, but what about the proof? That’s the only reason I came back. He wouldn’t believe me when I’d said the dragon was dead.
“Go ahead,” said the same guard again, “try to shout.”
“I’m taking command here for the moment,” said Irileth, “You head back to Whiterun and let the Jarl know what happened.” Fine, don’t have to tell me twice. Well, actually she did.
“Have you tried to shout?” said the guard behind me. I turned to glare at him. “They say the Dragonborn can shout without any training, like Talos himself.”
I resisted the urge to punch him, but as I walked away, he said “If you really are Dragonborn, like out of the old tales, you ought to be able to shout. Can you? Have you tried?”
I braced myself, took a deep breath, and then walked away. A bit faster this time, as the guard presumably kept asking me to shout. I crossed paths with the Khajiit caravan heading the other direction. I resisted the urge to travel with them. I greeted one of them, who said, “The roads of Skyrim lead to many dangers.” That is the understatement of the Era, my friend.
I entered Dragonsreach for the umpteenth time, and a guard greeted me with “Fear not, come dragon or giant, we’ll be ready.” Yeah, ready to let some scrawny little Khajiit thief do your dirty work for you. When I reached the top of the stairs, I saw pajama man – sorry, Avenicci – pacing back and forth. And some large man was standing before the Jarl. I wasn’t sure I wanted to interrupt, so I crept along with the utmost stealth and listened in.
I stood behind a wooden pillar, the carving on which was most intricate. I was in full-on stealth mode as the steward said, “Good, you’re here. The Jarl has been waiting for you.” Surely he wasn’t talking to me. There was no way he could have seen me.
“You heard the summons,” said the Jarl to the big man. “What else could it mean?” And then he whispered, “The Greybeards.”
Then the big man turned and faced the direction in which I was expertly hiding, and said, “We were just talking about you. My brother needs a word with you.”
This was not fair. I knew I was being perfectly sneaky. So how did they know I was there? Did I smell like dragon residue? That must have been it.
I resignedly stepped out from behind the pillar, and the Jarl asked, “So what happened at the Watchtower? Was the dragon there?”
What part of “I killed the dragon” did you not understand the last time I was in here? Is what I would have said if I didn’t mind being thrown in prison.
“The watchtower was destroyed, but we killed the dragon,” I said. I considered mentioning a reward, but decided to give him the opportunity to offer it first.
“I knew I could count on Irileth,” he said, “but there must be more to it than that.”
I supposed I should tell him everything. “When the dragon died, I absorbed some kind of power from it.”
“So it’s true,” said the Jarl. “The Greybeards were summoning you.”
If he meant the earthquake, I still contend that they were calling for the Donut King.
“The Greybeards?” I asked.
“Masters of the Way of the Voice.” Oh, so like bards, then. “They live in seclusion high on the slopes of the Throat of the World.”
“What do these Greybeards want with me?”
“The Dragonborn is said to be uniquely gifted in the voice – the ability to focus your vital essence into a thu’um, or shout. If you really are Dragonborn, they can teach you how to use your Gift.” Well, I’m really not Dragonborn. My parents were Pumata Shadowclaw II and Doris. They’re no more dragons than the court wizard is polite.
“Didn’t you hear the thundering sound as you returned to Whiterun?” said his… brother, I guess? “That was the voice of the Greybeards, summoning you to High Hrothgar.” Okay, no need to re-explain to me what the Jarl just said.
“This hasn’t happened in… centuries, at least.” Then how do you know what it would sound like? “Not since Tiber Septim himself was summoned when he was still Talos of Atmora!”
The steward cut him off, saying, “Rhongnar, calm yourself! What does any of this Nord nonsense have to do with our friend here? Capable as he may be, I don’t see any signs of him being this, what, ‘Dragonborn’.” THANK you! Finally someone who agrees with me.
Hrongar didn’t like that. “Nord nonsense? Why you puffed-up ignorant… these are our sacred traditions that go back to the founding of the first Empire!”
“Hrongar,” said the Jarl, “Don’t be so hard on Avenicci.”
“I meant no disrespect, of course,” said Avenicci. Of course no, most disrespectful people don’t. “It’s just that… what do these Greybeards want with him?” Good question!
“That’s the Greybeard’s business, not ours,” said the Jarl. “Whatever happened when you killed that dragon, it revealed something in you, and the Greybeards heard it.” Except I really didn’t do much of the killing. If anything, I took a cheap shot at the end after the guards had pummeled it. “If they think you’re Dragonborn, who are we to argue?” The name’s Steve, I believe we’ve met? “You’d better get up to High Hrothgar immediately. There’s no refusing the summons of the Greybeards. It’s a tremendous honor.” As far as you know, anyway. You weren’t even alive the last time they did it, according to your brother.
“I envy you, you know,” he continued, “to climb the 7,000 steps again.” Right, because you’re so active there, in you’re… wait, 7,000? For real? “I made the pilgrimage once, did you know that?” Of course I didn’t know that. Why in Tamriel would I know that? I’m not up on my Jarl trivia. “High Hrothgar is a very peaceful place… Very… disconnected from the troubles of this world.” Well, that sounded appealing enough. “I wonder that the Greybeards even notice what’s going on down here. They haven’t seemed to care before. No matter. Go to High Hrothgar, learn what the Greybeards can teach you.” Yeah, we’ll see. I’ve had my fill of bearded men telling me what to do, but thanks anyway.
“You’ve done a great service for me and my city, Dragonborn.” Stop calling me that! Please. “By my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun. It’s the greatest honor that’s within my power to grant.” Dragonborn, Thane, Steve, as long as there’s a cash reward, I’m fine with it. “I assign you Lydia as personal Housecarl.” Er, won’t that be awkward if I don’t have a house? Perhaps she could be my Horsecarl? “And this weapon from my armory to serve as your badge of office.” Nice. This was definitely worth more than a few septims. A bit heavy, though. Still not quite a fair trade for killing a dragon, in my opinion.
“I’ll also notify my guards of your new title. Wouldn’t want them to think you’re part of the common rabble, now would we?” Of course not. I’m part of the elite rabble now. The sword said so. “We are honored to have you as Thane of our city, Dragonborn.”
He turned to the Steward and said, “Back to business, Proventa, we still have a city to defend.” Right, because dealing with me is apparently not business.
Irileth chose that moment to come in. I was about to greet her in my new title as Thane, when she said “Make a move toward Balgruuf, and you’re dead.” Um, good to see you again too, I guess? “Mind yourself in front of the Jarl, or we’ll have serious problems.”
Back off, Irileth, no need to raise a fuss!
So… apparently I said this last part. “Fuss.” really loudly. Kinda… shouted it, I guess you’d say?
A few things happened at that point.
First, I knocked Irileth on her butt, with a massive wind of some sort. I couldn’t tell immediately, but I had a hunch she did not like this. Second, the Jarl freaked out and got angry at me at the same time. And third, I heard the “SHING!” sounds of swords being drawn through the hall. They really needed to have their scabbards looked at, because ideally they should not make scrapy sounds like that. It puts needless wear and tear on the blade.
So, yeah. I was doomed. And probably had a bounty on me again, despite being Thane. The nearest guard grabbed me and said, “By the order of the Jarl, stop right there!” I swallowed hard, relieved that I wasn’t being immediately killed for what had to look like an attack on the Jarl, accidental though it was. I tried my luck and said, “I’m the Jarl’s Thane, unhand me at once.”
The weird thing is? This worked. The guard, who’d been standing there the whole time as I was dubbed Thane, said, “Oh, forgive me Thane, I didn’t realize it was you.” Right. Because a lot of Khajiit were roaming Dragonsreach with the Jarl’s sword. “We’ll look the other way this time, but even the Jarl’s influence has its limits. Be more careful.” Yes. I definitely would.
So. Now I knew what “The Voice” was. And why Ulfric was being executed. A lot of things were making more sense now. I wondered if this meant Ulfric was also Dragonborn? Wow, already I was coming to accept the term. Perhaps I was in shock. I didn’t even look at Irileth or the Jarl as I left the throne area, feeling a mixture of relieved, chagrined, and confused. Also, that ‘battle music’ feeling I referenced earlier? Was in full force again. I wondered if Arcadia had something I could take for that.
As I walked down the steps, a heavily-armored woman approached me. Please, no more threats. I was tired. So tired. “The Jarl has appointed me to be your housecarl. It’s an honor to serve you.”
This must be Lydia, then. “What does a housecarl do?” I asked awkwardly.
“As my Thane, I’m sworn to your service. I’ll guard you, and all you own, with my life.” Um, okay then. She was definitely getting a raw deal here. It still wasn’t clicking for me, so I said, “I’m a Thane? What does that mean?” I mean honestly.
“The Jarl has recognized you as a person of great importance in the Hold. A hero.” I am neither of those things. “The title of Thane is an honor, a gift for your service. Guards will know to look the other way, if you tell them who you are.” Yes, I’ve already abused that power once, after being Thane all of twenty seconds.”
Then came a few seconds of silent staring, after which I excused myself, she said “Mmm-hmm,” and walked up the stairs. What was I supposed to do, tell her that I kinda live out of my pants at the moment? I mean, it’s not like she’s sworn to carry my burdens.
I left Dragonsreach, and Lydia did not follow. Perhaps “guard you with my life” meant something different in Skyrim than it did where I come from. I went into my new home away from home, the Bannered Mare, to become Whiterun’s first drunken Thane, perhaps. I will stay there and update my journal, and if they try to kick me out, I’ll say, “Do you know who I am?”
Because I’m not so sure any more.
Sincerely,
Steven The Dragonborn Thane Khajiit Hero Thief
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