Shinbira: Journal of a Survivor, Chapter 27

• Posted by Idesto July 22, 2015 - 1,202 views

  Last Seed 22nd: Whiterun

  My head hurts.

  As I regain consciousness there's chaos all around: guards are jumping, shouting, running in excitement.

  "You did it! You killed the dragon!"

  "It wasn't just me; I just..." I start to say, then immediately think better of it. If they want to give me all the credit that's fine by me.

  What I actually say is "Hrr jzzh krt lijf cshf", or something similar.

  Faendal is shaking me.

  "Stop that, Bosmer!" I shout.

  "Ah, so you're back: good!" he responds.

  Stupid Elf...

  Another guard runs up to me and seems even more excited than the last one.

  "I can't believe it! You're...you're...  Dragonborn!"

  That last word is said as if it's the secret and forbidden name of Almsivi theirself.

  " ‘Dragonborn’? What in gods' names are you talking about, man?"

  "In the very oldest tales..."

  Azura's Eyes! I'm exhausted, drained, burnt, wounded and still churning inside, and this Nord s'wit wants to deliver me a history lecture? A Nord history lecture! If it was an untold tale of some deep mystery from Morrowind I still wouldn't listen. But a Nord legend?

  His voice drones on, and shows no sign of stopping any time soon. I interrupt.

  "Look, this is all terribly interesting, but why don't you tell me your story another time, maybe over an ale in the Bannered Mare?"

  No chance: I'm keeping away from this loony!

  "Guard of – what is your name?” I continue, trying to humour him. 

  “Delvak, sir.” he replies.

  “Delvak,” I continue, “I - we - just killed a dragon: we should celebrate. I am going to Whiterun for rest, food, and drink; although maybe not in that order."   
  

  I try to get up and don't do very well. "Faendal!". With his assistance I struggle awkwardly to my feet and turn to go.

   “You can Shout”, Delvak says suddenly, to my back.

  “Yes." I turn around slowly, trying to be patient.

  “I am Dunmer,” I explain, “In times of great stress the power of my ancestors rises from within me to aid me in battle. Their rage fills me & I have to set it free with a great cry. Together we defeat our enemies. If you need to understand more you should ask Irileth.”

  With that I turn again and walk towards Whiterun. I’d stay and give myself time to recover but I want to get away from Delvak the Deranged. Faendal and I walk slowly and painfully, leaning on each other as we stumble gingerly over the charred and trampled grassy plains. 

  I hear the guards arguing amongst themselves. “Dragonborn?... .can’t be!... dragons were extinct before today…saw what he did!... filthy grayskin! Dragonborn?... old wives tale…My Grandmother said… more mead!...he can shout I know it!.. shut up you old fool…”

  My Dunmer sister is trying to talk some sense into them. “Some of you would be better off keeping quiet rather than flapping your gums about things of which you know nothing.” I give her an approving smile as we pass. “Here’s a dead dragon,” she continues, “and that’s something I definitely understand. Now we know we can kill them! But I don’t need some mythical dragonborne; someone who can put down a dragon is more than enough for me!”

  “You wouldn’t understand, Housecarl: you ain’t a Nord.”

  “I’ve been all across Tamriel, guard; I’ve seen plenty of things just as outlandish as this! I’d advise you all to trust in the strength of your arm over tales & legends. Now you, you and you: we need to get the wounded back to the city; see to it. The rest of you: return to your duties.”

  If I had the use of my arms I’d applaud.

  The guards scamper off, some to the Tower, others to assist the wounded, limping and groaning as they join us on the road back to Whiterun. We stop and let them go on.

  Once we’re clear of the Nords and their mad stories, we take a chance to drink healing potions and eat from the food in our packs. It isn’t long before we feel our strength starting to return.

  Just as we slowly rise to our feet we hear a familiar voice.

  “No: you can Shout! I saw you: you took the dragon’s power! Just Shout!”

  Delvak again!

  “Look, you crazy Nord: why don’t…”

  “SHOUT!”

  What’s this? I feel something welling up from within. My ancestors again? But why? This malshok Nord is no great threat. It’s too soon anyway! No, this is different… this – it’s that esoteric energy from the wall in the barrow!

  Turning around in surprise, my mouth opens, almost unbidden.

  “Force. Force? Force!” The word that was implanted in my mind by the wall. ”FORCE! FORCE! FURCE! FUS!”

  With that I feel a power leave my mouth, and crazy old Delvak is sent flying backwards through the air at great speed!

  “I think you Shouted, brother.” says Faendal. “And how in the name of all the gods did you do that?!”

  A small group of guards who were going about their business are now standing stock-still, in a state of shock, staring at me open-mouthed. “So it’s true: you are Dragonborn!” one says. He looks like he’s about to fall to the ground and worship me.

  What the Dagon is happening to me?! I’m now some sort of mythical hero? A hero of the very people I despise, the vile Nords?!

  I look desperately to the heavens and cry “Panthihn, Panthihn, ju’it adun ohuhn ferghakam lo?!”

  The Nords continue to look on, reverently.

  Faendal breaks the tension. “Are you finished, Shinbira?”

  I look at him, confused.

  “You know, Shinbira, you may not like it; in fact I can see that you don’t. And you may not understand it; I certainly don’t. But one thing is clear: you have power. A new and great power.”

  Gods, he’s right!

  I don’t understand what has been happening to me: I need to think.

  “Faendal?”

   “Yes, brother?”, he replies, apprehensive.

  “Fancy an ale?”

  “Yes, brother!”

  Don't forget: 'If you like it then you oughtta put a 'click' on it'...

  And if you don't please tell me why, or how else will I get better? Also if you do!

  Thanks 

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