Skyrim: Rise of the Dragonborn

Chapter 26: Paarthurnax

Beric trudged back up toward the stairs of High Hrothgar as his warm breath appeared before his face. It had been almost five years since he had started learning the way of the voice. Arngeir had already told Beric that he had learned everything that the Greybeards could teach him. He knew every bit of dragon speech that they knew. They were astonished that he learned so quickly and kept saying it was because he was Dragonborn. He was getting rather tired of hearing it.

He enjoyed the occasional trip they would send him on. But this one was quite different. They had sent him after the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. It was said to be a tomb that only a disciple of the way of the voice could survive. He, of course, walked through with ease, but a note on Jurgen's coffin told him it wasn't that impressive. Apparently Farengar's associate had been watching his comings and goings. She had traced his movement and somehow knew he was heading to that specific tomb. All of that was astonishing, but the fact that she walked through the tomb unscathed was little less than a punch to the gut of his ego. She had told him to meet her at the inn at Riverwood so they could talk, and she would give him the horn.

When he had arrived there, he picked her out as the maid that of the inn. He had forgotten about how she listened with interest when he spoke to the men of the village about the dragon that attacked Helgen. He had actually forgotten about dragons in general. The thought of him forgetting something so big scared him a bit. He wasn't thinking about the world outside of High Hrothgar enough. He started to wonder if that was what had happened to the Greybeards. They seemed completely ignorant of what was going on in Skyrim. The older Greybeards didn't even know that the Great War was over.

Farengar's assistant, who's name was Delphine, turned out to be quite the character. She had an entire secret room full of weapons, armor, enchanting devices, and even a small alchemy table. She had tried to convince him to leave the Greybeards and join her in her investigation of the dragons. She told him that the dragons were returning from the dead and that they would soon dominate the world, just like in ages past. It sounded too fake to be true, but much of what she said made sense. After she had spent the whole night trying to convince him to join her to no avail, she told him to at least think about it.

"You are Dragonborn, Beric," she said, "You were meant to do something about this, not spend the rest of your days among old recluses that would sooner see the end of the world than harm a dragon," he couldn't say she was wrong. The Greybeards loved the dragons, and they made their position on him killing dragons quite clear. They felt that the Dragonborn should become one with the dragons and achieve enlightenment, but Beric didn't think that enlightenment was all it was thought to be. The Greybeards had been meditating on top of this mountain for decades and they had not achieved the enlightenment they had spoken of. Not to mention how ignorant of the world they were. He didn't judge them, but he didn't want that for himself. He had learned much in the last five years, but he felt like he was meant for more than kneeling on the stone-cold ground in silence for the next fifty years.

As he entered the old stone fortress, he whispered dragon speech under his breath. He could see the life essence of all four Greybeards outside in the courtyard. He had learned enough Dragon Speech to do almost anything. Not only did he know enough destructive words to walk through a crypt full of draugr without pulling out so much as a dagger, but he could make the world around him turn to slow motion while he walked around freely, whisper words that could make others see and hear things that weren't there, and even turn himself into a ghost-like essence that could pass through solid objects. There was much more to dragon speech than shouting words in another language. One had to know the meaning and intention of each word, and it had become second nature to him. He took a deep breath as he walked toward the back doors and pushed against the ice-cold wood. The Greybeards didn't move a muscle as he approached them.