Skyrim: The Unlikely Companions – Chapter 21

Door dutchinteldude op woensdag 26 oktober 2016 20:36 - Reacties (1)
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Jaaaaa \o/ gezien er bepaalde fans zijn die graag weer een hoofdstuk willen lezen hierbij wederom een stukje pracht en praal Skyrim: The Unlikely Companions – Chapter 21

Summary:

“I…was not exactly expecting you to be a dragon.” Ganir apologized and quickly stowed his bow and arrow away.


Nor did I when I first played the Main Quest, but Paarthurnax forgave me for barraging him with fireballs and making a run for it.))


Chapter 21

The enormous mountain that was host to the Greybeards’ monastery was a serene place of solitude. Nevertheless, Ganir received a crude awakening as the snow fell from the slope where he had slept below. His barrage of curses and swearing were muffled under the thick layer of snow that completely covered him.

Tormagg shook his mane as though amused, snorting and scraping its hoof at the pile of snow where his master was buried below, who emerged in a most foul mood.
“You could at least have warned me, you know…” he grumbled, shaking from the cold. He brushed the remaining snow off his shoulders and pulled a fur overcoat out the saddlebag and wrapped it around him to warm himself.It wasn’t until another hour of walking, carefully guiding Tormagg over the stone steps and around the slippery bends that they reached the monastery. He left Tormagg sheltered behind the stone wall of the stairway up to the monastery and laid the fur coat over the horse. “You keep an eye out, will you?”

He then made his way into the monastery after double-checking his bag for the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. He had certainly been delayed on retrieving and returning it, but Arngeir would no doubt understand…he hoped.

But Arngeir did not.

When he came inside, Ganir was greeted by the silence of the other monks, of whom he had learned the names: Borri, Wulfgar and Einarth.

He found Master Arngeir kneeling in an alcove, facing the window and looking outside, where the winds howled past. “Master Arngeir, I have returned. I am sorry to have kept you waiting, but I was…delayed.”

For a moment, the old Greybeard remained silent, his old hands clenched into fists. “You did not heed my teachings. You did not heed my wisdom or that of the Way...How dare you show yourself, holding his horn after your cavalier actions?”

“Cavalier?” Ganir repeated questioningly. “My friends were in danger. What else did you expect me to do?! Sit back and do nothing and let them get killed?”

“The winds carry the cries of anguish, bloodshed and death you left in your wake no matter what direction you turn.” It clearly took everything for Arngeir to calmly stand up and contain his temper. “You did not save your friends. You sated your bloodlust. Have you learned nothing of my teachings? You are arrogant, ignorant and I cannot help you.”

Ganir wanted to be angry and argue, but knew the Greybeard was right. He didn’t have to kill the Thalmor that crossed his path in the Embassy. He could’ve knocked them out, but instead, had indulged in the desire for blood and vengeance. He hung his head in shame, shaking as a block of ice sank in his stomach. It wasn’t just guilt, but that overwhelming feeling when one knew someone had done wrong and disappointed one of their peers. To them, Ganir was a complete stranger with the promise of greatness, and he had completely disrespected and disregarded their teachings. He was tired of killing, he had said so many times, but he had done so again so easily.

“Please, Master Arngeir, I am sorry.” Ganir’s voice croaked.

“You are not worth the title,” said Arngeir decidedly, taking the horn from the Dark Elf’s hand. “Your very nature does not permit it. Leave, and do not return. High Hrothgar has no-,”

“Arngeir!” The walls shook in a fashion unlike Ganir had ever experienced before. Master Einarth, who had been silent in meditation nearby had gotten to his feet. With each syllable spoken in the dragon’s tongue, the old man’s chest rumbled, seeming about to burst and bring the walls of the monastery down on them. “Nii los ni fah hi wah komaan. Nii los ni fah hi wah maat. Rok los Dovahkiin. Ven brud mok kolos mu dreh ni tread. Mu los wah aak. Dahmaan hin heyv.”

Ganir had initially raised his arms in defense as the intense force of Einarth’s Voice resounded clear as water and loud as thunder through the monastery and perhaps even beyond.

Arngeir was also visibly shaken. “I…” With a sigh, Arngeir shook his head. “You are right…” He then looked at Ganir, who looked confused and unsure of what had just happened. Einarth gave a small, knowing smile and after bowing his head to him, he returned to his meditations.

Remind me to never end up debating semantics with you…

“Dragonborn…” Arngeir now hung his head in shame. “Please, forgive me. I was intemperate and allowed my emotions to cloud my judgement. Master Einarth is right; the decision whether to help you or not is not mine to make. It is my duty.”

“And I promise I will heed your words.” Ganir was overwhelmed with relief. Whatever Einarth had said, he owed the Greybeard! “I was wrong to ignore your teachings, Master Arngeir.”

“And yet, you spoke with the Blades…did you not?” Arngeir narrowed his eyes, but not necessarily at him, but in distaste of the Blades.

Blades. Making friends in all the wrong places…Ganir sighed. “I have, Master Arngeir. I intend to stop Alduin.”

“Of course. The Blades,” Arngeir spat, but nevertheless motioned for Ganir to follow him outside to the courtyard. “They specialize in meddling in matters they barely understand. Their reckless arrogance knows no bounds. They have always sought to turn the Dragonborn from the path of wisdom. Tell me, Dragonborn, if you wish to learn from us, why would you want to be but a simple tool in the hands of the Blades to be used for their own purposes?”

“You have to believe me when I say that I share your distaste of the Blades,” Ganir cursed the cold. “I’m not their ‘puppet’ as you so eloquently put it.”

“Heed my warning, Dragonborn,” Arngeir gave him a sharp look. “The Blades may say they serve the Dragonborn, but they do not. They never have…” The old Greybeard closed his eyes as the wind brushed past his wrinkled face. Snowflakes were caught in his messy, rough beard, but he did not seem to mind. “Why have you returned, if not for the horn?”

Ganir told Arngeir everything without secrets. He told Arngeir about the dragons he had battled, and about Alduin, with whom he had crossed paths twice now, and how the Blades helped him find out that the Thalmor knew nothing of their return, which led him to Sky Haven Temple. “If the prophecy rings true, Master Arngeir, Alduin will destroy the world as we know it. Surely you do not want for the world to end?”

“What I want is irrelevant at this point,” Arngeir said bitterly. “Have you considered that Alduin was not meant to be defeated? Those who overthrew him in ancient times only postponed the day of reckoning, but did not stop it. If the world is meant to end, then so be it. Let it end and be reborn.”

“That is what you will,” Ganir countered with a sharp tone. After all, a few more winters and you’re dead…“But I do not. We discovered that these ancient …Dragonborns, or whatever they were…they used a Shout to defeat Alduin. Do you know it?”

“I do, but its Words of Power are not known to me for it was lost in time,” said Arngeir. “A loss I do not regret, for this Shout you refer to, ‘Dragonrend’, has no place in the Way of the Voice.”

Ganir furrowed his brow. “What is so bad about Dragonrend…this Shout?”

Arngeir regarded the Dark Elf in a contemplative fashion, clearly conflicted. Finally, he sighed. The Dragonborn would walk his own path and it was best wandered with whatever knowledge and wisdom he could pass on. “It was created by those who had lived under the unimaginable cruelty of Alduin’s Dragon Cult. Their whole lives were consumed with hatred for dragons, and they poured all their anger and hatred into this Shout. When you learn a Shout, you take it into your very being. In a sense, you become the Shout. In order to learn and use this Shout, you would be taking this very evil into yourself. It could and will consume you.”

Ganir had listened to everything the Greybeard told him, but it did not change his mind. He had to stop Alduin. He had faced off against the demonic forces of Oblivion, he had survived all these years as a vampire and made his way to Skyrim. He didn’t want to carry this burden, but if he was too, he would give it his all. “If the Shout is lost, how can I defeat Alduin?”

Arngeir had looked up at the top of the Throat of the World, which was shrouded from view by thick clouds and mist. It is inevitable… “Only Paarthurnax, the master of our order, can answer that question, if he so chooses.”

“Paarthurnax?” Quite an odd name…

“He is our leader,” Arngeir replied. “He surpasses us all in his mastery of the Way of the Voice., but you are not ready. Not until we greet you as Dragonborn and grant you the knowledge required to go see him at the top of the Throat of the World where he resides.”

Ganir followed Arngeir back inside, wondering what he meant, but the other Greybeards rose and followed to the entry hall of the monastery. “It is time for us to formally recognize you as Dragonborn. We would Speak to you…” Arngeir pointed at the stone seal in the center of the entry-hall as the other Greybeards surrounded him. Einarth still smiled at him and nodded.

The Dark Elf was hesitant but stood in the center of the room.

“Prepare yourself, Dragonborn!” Arngeir said. “Few can withstand the unbridled Voice of the Greybeards, but you will emerge unscathed if you are truly ready…”

Wait…!

But the Greybeards spoke and it was as though Ganir got caught in a maelstrom of raw, but controlled power that beat down on him, shoving him in all directions, but keeping him in place all the same.

Their voices united had dust crumble from the ceiling and he was fearful it was about to collapse, but High Hrothgar was strong and built to withstand, shaking with each syllable of the Greybeards’ Voices.

“Lingrah krosis saran Strundu’ul, voth nid balaan klov praan nau! Naal Thu’umu, mu ofan nii nu, Dovahkiin, naal suleyk do Kaan, naal suleyk do Shor, ahrk naal suleyk do Atorasewuth! Meyz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom. Dahmaan daar rok!”

He was out of breath and he felt like he had been jostled around by a whirlwind, but Ganir found himself unharmed but shaking. The Greybeards remained silent, unmoving, but smiling.

“Dovahkiin. You have tasted the Voice of the Greybeards, and passed through unscathed,” Arngeir bowed his head. “High Hrothgar is open to you and we shall teach you the Shout so you can make your way up to Paarthurnax.”

Ganir followed the Greybeards outside to the upper Courtyard of the Monastery, where he had first been taught the Unrelenting Force and Whirlwind Sprint Shouts. At the time, Arngeir had not answered his question about the other gate, which did lead somewhere, whereas the other gate had been for practice.

“The Skies to our leader will tear the flesh off your bones if you were to pass it without the knowledge we are about to pass on to you,” said Arngeir. “The Shout, when used, will clear the skies and show you the way.”

The Greybeards stood in a row next to each other, in front of Ganir. Here we go again… He braced himself when their chests began to rumble with the same, intense and primal force, which then struck him with full force, nearly sending him to the ground. “LOK VAH KOOR!”

The wind ceased to howl. The snow that had already fallen to the ground was sent flying, but no more snow fell. The skies cleared and there was silence. The gates to the top of the Throat of the World, had opened.

“Good luck, Dragonborn. Know that it is a privilege if Paarthurnax were to Speak with you,” Said Arngeir before he too made his way back inside the Monastery.

Lok. Vah. Koor. Ganir’s whole being heard not the words, but the very essence of them, and knew their meaning and purpose. He walked past the gates and made his way up to the path, where a storm closed in on again. But he repeated the very three words and the storm stayed away.

After two hours of stumbling and slipping over the ice as he found it hard to breathe all the way up there, even in his state of grace, he made his way to the top of the Throat of the World.

The view was breathtaking as he could almost see all of Skyrim now that the skies had cleared. But he was not permitted to enjoy it for long as a roar echoed through the skies and he heard the familiar flap of enormous, leathery wings.

Ganir readied his bow and arrow as a gigantic dragon dove for the mountaintop where he stood, but he did not release the arrow. This dragon was different. It was not aggressive. And even when landed, it showed no hostility and regarded the Dark Elf with curiosity.

This dragon was ancient beyond the word’s meaning. Its horns were twisted, contorted and far more magnificent than any other dragon he had encountered thus far, holding a similarity to the bone crown of Alduin. Its wings were tattered, some of his horns and teeth chipped and broken. Its scales showed the scars of battles ages past. Both of the dragon’s eyes had once been a piercing blue, but one was void of an iris and pupil. Its gaze was still intense and unwavering, staring through and deep into his very being, chilling Ganir more than the icy winds that swept past him on top of this lone mountain.

“Drem Yol Lok. Greetings, wunduniik.” The dragon’s voice was unique and he had not heard any like it in his life time. It was strong. Civilized. Holding the power to tear not only his flesh, but so much more, and yet, the dragon had overcome its primal nature and spoke with intelligence…no, wisdom. This had to be Paarthurnax. “What brings you to my strunmah…my mountain?”

“I…was not exactly expecting you to be a dragon.” Ganir apologized and quickly stowed his bow and arrow away.

“I am Paarthurnax!” said the dragon proudly. “I am as my father Akatosh made me. As are you…Dovahkiin. Tell me. Why do you come here, volaan? Why do you intrude on my meditation?”

“I had no intention of intrusion, Paarthurnax,” Ganir bowed his head. “I came to you in search of aid. I seek to defeat Alduin, and I was told you perhaps know the Shout.”

The Dragon craned its head so his good eye could give him a sharp look. “Drem…” His chest rumbled. “Patience…” The dragon then raised his head to look at him with both eyes. “There are formalities which must be observed at the first meeting of two of the dov. By long tradition, the elder speaks first. Hear my Thu’um! Feel it in your bones, and match it if you are Dovahkiin!”

Paarthurnax then turned his head towards a wall that Ganir immediately recognized. A Word Wall, from what the Greybeards had taught him, where the ancient Dragons and their followers carved their knowledge and tales of old. Paarthurnax took a deep breath and a rumble like thunder came from his chest. When his maw opened, he roared. “YOL TOOR SHUL!”

The flames that burst forth were as hot-white but double as intense as any dragon’s breath he had been a witness too. Ganir did not just feel the heat, but the very essence of the Shout. His ears pounded as the words resounded and made his blood pound and rush. He felt…alive.

The flames that had engulfed the stone had been so intense that the stone had actually reached its melting point and glowed a hot red, hissing as the cold winds embraced it. Paarthurnax seemed amused by the Dark Elf’s expression. “Now, show me what you can do. Greet me not as mortal, but as dovah!”

Ganir was terrified. He knew he could do it, but he wasn’t exactly eager to blow himself up or set fire to himself. But the dragon gave him a reassuring nod, at the same time inquisitive what this little mortal before him would do. As hesitant as he was, though, Ganir had paid close attention to the dragon and he did as he had done. “Yooooollllll…” He took a deep, sharp breath and felt something deep inside of him that scared him but it also felt so natural and familiar. But nothing could match the intensity of what burned deep inside of him until he could no longer contain it and as the next words left his lips, so did the flames, “TOOR SHUL!”

The gout of flames that came from his mouth was brief as he was completely taken aback by its intensity and power. Paarthurnax laughed, if one could call it that. It was a most odd sound, like rocks grinding over one another.

“Yes. Yes! Sossedov los mul!” Paarthurnax exclaimed with joy. His chest still rumbled with a sound comparable to a chuckle. “The dragon blood runs strong in you. It is long since I had the pleasure of speech with one of my own kind. I have long awaited your coming. Prodah.” Paarthurnax’s wings unfurled and with a leap and flap of his wings, he perched on top of the Word Wall like the parody of a bird on a branch. “I know why you are here, Dovahkiin. You would not come all this way for tiinvak with an old dovah. No. You seek your weapon against Alduin…”

“The Greybeards didn’t exactly want me to come here at first,” Ganir scratched the back of his head, feeling rather awkward. First a polite conversation with a Thalmor and now with a dragon that could eat me in one go… “But I need to learn the Dragonrend Shout. They do not know it, but thought that perhaps you do.”

Paarthurnax mused. “Hrmm…yes. They are very protective of me. Bahlaan fahdonne…” The meaning of Paarthurnax’s native tongue completely eluded Ganir, but from what he gathered, he could guess some of their meaning. “I do not know the Thu’um you seek. Krosis. It cannot be known to me. Your kind, joorre, mortals, created it as a weapon against the dov…the dragons. Our hadrimme, our minds cannot even comprehend its concepts.”

“How can I learn it then?” Ganir immediately regretted his lack of restraint and voice his thoughts and frustrations aloud, but the dragon had not given him a sharp look because of this.

“Drem…” He reassured. “All in good time. First, a question for you. Why do you want to learn this Thu’um?”

“To stop Alduin,” Ganir replied without a second thought. “He seeks to destroy the world…It’s rotten, I’ll admit, but if I am destined to have a say in it, then I won’t let it end…not without a fight.”

“Pruzah. As good a reason as any. There are many who would share your sentiment, but not all.” The dragon’s talons scraped at the stone as he shifted. “Some would say that all things must end, so that the next can come to pass. Perhaps this world is simply the Egg of the next kalpa? Lein vokiin? Would you stop the next world from being born?”

“It can wait,” Ganir said stubbornly.

“Paaz. A fair answer…” Paarthurnax bared his teeth in a grin of sorts. “Ro fus! Maybe you only balance the forces that work to quicken the end of this world. Even we who ride the currents of Time cannot see past Time’s End. Wuldsetiid los tahrodiis. Those who try to hasten the end, may delay it. Those who work to delay the end, may bring it closer! But…You have indulged my weakness for speech long enough. Krosis. Now, I will answer your question.” The dragon craned its head so its unblinking eye could regard the Dark Elf once more. “Do you know why I live here at the peak of the Monahven, what you name the Throat of the World?”

The Dark Elf shook his head. There were countless reasons that seemed valid, but he’d rather just hear it from the dragon rather than guess.

“Few now remember that this was the very spot where Alduin was defeated by the ancient Tongues. Vahrukt unslaad…Perhaps none but me now remember how he was defeated…” The dragon seemed to lament this. He could very well be the only one of his kind as ancient as he that remained. “But not in the fashion, with this Dragonrend Shout, as you think. Viik nuz ni kroon. Alduin was not truly defeated, either! If he was, you would not be here today, seeking to defeat him! The Nords of those days used the Dragonrend Shout to cripple Alduin. But this was not enough…” Paarthurnax shook his head. “Ok mulaag unslaad. It was the Kel…The Elder Scroll. They used it to cast him adrift in the currents of Time.”

Ganir blinked as he registered again and again what the dragon had said. An Elder Scroll?! “But…But how?!”

The dragon mused, snapping its jaw in contemplation. “How to explain in your tongue…The dov have words for such things that joorre do not. It is an artifact from outside time. It does not exist, but it always has. Rah wahlaan. They are…fragments of creations. The Kelle, the Elder Scrolls, as you name them, they have often been used for prophecy, just as yours. But this is only a small part of their power. Zofaas suleyk…”

Ganir furrowed his brow as he put one and one together. “Are you saying that the Nords back then sent Alduin forward in time?”

“Not intentionally. Some hoped he would be gone forever. Forever lost. Meyye. I knew better…Tiid bo amativ. Time flows ever onward,” Paarthurnax replied. “One day, he would surface. Which is why I have lived here. For thousands of mortal years have I waited. I knew where he would emerge, but not when…” The dragon noticed Ganir’s confusion. “Tiid krent. Time was…shattered here because of what the ancient Nords did to Alduin. If you brought a Kel back here to the Tiid-Ahraan, the Time-Wound, you could perhaps cast yourself back in time and learn the Dragonrend Shout from those who created it.”

“A perfect theory, but Elder Scrolls don’t exactly grow on trees…” Ganir released a growl of frustration. “Unless you happen to know where to find one…”

“Krosis. No.” Paarthurnax shook his head, understanding the Dragonborn’s frustration. This little mortal was quite the interesting creature. So small, so frail and so broken, but so determined in spite of the odds thrown against him. “I know little of what has passed below in the long years I have lived here. You are likely better informed than I…However, I have listened closely to the path you walked, Dragonborn…This place you call home. This College where knowledge is safeguarded. Perhaps they could help you.”

Ganir could smack himself for not having thought of it himself. “I thank you, Paarthurnax.” He bowed. “You have taken the time to grace me with your presence and have not just taught me, but helped me. I will return with an Elder Scroll…I hope.”

The ground shook as Paarthurnax’s wing-talons hit the ground as he climbed off the Word Wall. “Trust your instincts, Dovahkiin. Your blood will show you the way,” The dragon then turned away, careful to not accidentally hit the Dark Elf with his tail. He spread his wings and looked back over to him. “Know that I will be waiting for your return.”

“I shall make haste,” Ganir promised. He watched Paarthurnax take off in flight, digging the heels of his boots in the ground as the gust of wind nearly knocked him off his feet before he himself began the long trek down to the Monastery to inform Arngeir, thank him and then return to the College of Winterhold.

I swear by Azura, if no one at the College knows, then I have no idea where else to look…


Seriously. There was too much Dragon speech to translate in one go.


Lingrah krosis saran Strundu’ul, voth nid balaan klov praan nau
(Long –in- sorrow –has- waited –the- Stormcrown, with no worthy head to rest on)
Long has the Stormcrown languished, with no worthy brow to sit upon
Naal Thu’umu, mu ofan nii nu, Dovahkiin, naal suleyk do Kaan, naal suleyk do Shor, ahrk naal suleyk do Atorasewuth
(By our Voice we give it now –to you-, Dragonborn, by –the- power of Kyne, by –the- power of Shor, and by –the- power of Atmora-of-old)
By our breath we bestow it now to you in the name of Kyne, in the name of Shor, and in the name of Atmora of Old.
Meyz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom. Dahmaan daar rok
(-You have- become now Ysmir. Dragon of the North. Remember these words.)
You are Ysmir now, the Dragon of the North, hearken to it.

Nii los ni fah hi wah komaan. Nii los ni fah hi wah maat. Rok los Dovahkiin. ven brud mok kolos mu dreh ni tread. Mu los wah aak. Dahmaan hin heyv.
It is not for you to decide. It is not for you to judge. He is Dragonborn. The winds carry him where we do not tread. We are to guide. Remember your duty.

Volgende: Skyrim: The Unlikely Companions – Chapter 22 01-11 Skyrim: The Unlikely Companions – Chapter 22
Volgende: Skyrim: The Unlikely Companions – Chapter 20 07-'16 Skyrim: The Unlikely Companions – Chapter 20

Reacties


Door Tweakers user GrimScythe, vrijdag 28 oktober 2016 12:58

weer heerlijk zitten lezen, keep em comming ;)

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