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Part FOUR: Of Dragons and Men
"And the dragon's return will signal the end of Skyrim and all of Tamriel"
Still slightly shocked at the idea of fighting off a dragon, I follow the Dunmer and Farengar as well as a guard from Whiterun to the upper floor of the Jarl's palace, where the guard tells a story where a dragon attacked a watchtower somewhere outside the city. Personally, I'm hoping that the Jarl will actually be some racist prick and assume that a lowly Khajiit would be of no help against a giant lizard that could breathe fire, but I received no such luck. Balgruuf tells me that since I have more experience with dragons than anyone, I need to go with the rest of the men on this suicide mission. Inside, I want to tell him that I honestly just ran for my life from the great black dragon that attacked Helgen, and didn't actually fight, but when the Jarl pulls out an enchanted set of studded armor and mentions that another reward would be ready should I slay the dragon, my unmovable desire for treasure sprang in and I was unable to decline the Nord's pleas for help. I headed out of the palace with the Dark Elf to meet her men that were waiting near the outer walls to the city.
After a brief and altogether uneffective pep talk with the guards, the group of us take off towards the tower. My hopes for our victory are not lifted when I see the tower. It's almost completely destroyed and parts of it are on fire. Stone. On fire. That's not natural. I dry swallow at the dismal sight. When the Dunmer signals for us to move forward, I drop into a crouch, bow at the ready. I climb up the broken ramp towards the door to the tower and nearly jump out of my pelt when a guard comes around the corner suddenly. I about shot him in the face for that. He better be happy that I'm an assassin and am good at handling nerves, or else the first casualty of this fight would have happened before the dragon even showed its face.
Anyone else in favor of going back to the city and pretending that this tower never existed? Just me? Okay..
I climb to the second level of the tower and am examining a hole that was blasted into the side of the structure when I hear a cry from down below. "Kynareth save us! Here it comes again!" I hear the bone trembling roar from the mountains and take off to the top of the tower, trying to get the higher ground, but quickly realize that my efforts are in vein. The dragon is much higher than I am as it flies over a mountain to come and kill its next meal. I manage to lodge an arrow into its belly as it soars over me, but I have a feeling that the weapon that could easily kill a man felt like nothing more than a pinprick to this monster. I hear the guards on the ground shouting up at the dragon as it circles the tower, letting loose streams of fire at everything that moves, including me. Multiple times I have to dive down the stairs to get under cover just a fraction of a second before becoming Khajiit Brulé. At one point, the great lizard hovers in front of me while I shoot at it and it laughs. This beast is laughing! I shoot it in the nose with another arrow (about the twentieth of mine, it seems), but it just opens wide and lets loose yet another roar of fire.
I don't know what's scarier; the dragon that's staring at me, or the fact that it can talk.
After what feels like hours, the beast finally gets too tired to fly and is forced to land. By this time, I've retreated from the top of the watchtower and taken up a spot on the ground next to the Dark Elf who is alternating between pumping the wyrm full of arrows like the rest of us, and trying to take it down with shock spells. As yet another guard falls to the monster, the Dunmer takes out her sword and charges it. Believing her insane, I continue shooting it from a distance. Eventually, the dragon lets out one final cry of "Dovahkiin! No!" before falling dead. I have no idea what "Dovahkiin" means, but I don't particularly care at this point. The monstrosity is finally dead. We did it...
Take THAT you overgrown salamander! Ha! I was never actually scared, you know? Just trying to make the guards feel better about being so terrified.
Just as I begin to relax, something even stranger than what happened at the Barrow occurs. The dragon's scales proceed to catch fire and the same sort of gust of wind blows through the area. We all run from the corpse, but the wind seems to be following me. I can't shake it no matter how fast I run or anything. It seems to be circling around me. Targeting me. When it dies down and the Nords all gather around the dragon's body to stare in wonder, I feel a strange sensation rise up inside of me. I brush it off, not wanting to bother with it right now... I hate magic. After a few seconds of staring at the now skeletal remains of the monster, we gather the bodies of the guards that had perished in the fight and pile them together next to the dragon. We don't know what to do with them,but the Dunmer (whose name I can't remember, if you can't tell) tells me to go report to the Jarl. Muttering under my breath about lazy Dark Elves, I obey and head back to Whiterun, not pausing for even a second to look back at the hell I had just escaped.
The only eulogy they will receive from me is "thanks for the free arrows."
I make my way into Whiterun without any problems. I then make it to the market square. No sweat. However, as I'm passing the statue of Talos that the now deceased priest was standing in front of, the entire earth seems to shake. A thunderous roar comes from the skies above. "DOV AH KIIN!" I look up, bow drawn and expecting another dragon to come falling from the skies, but nothing happens. The thunder fades and nature goes back to how it was before. Sheathing my bow, I realize that the voice had said "dovahkiin," the same word as the dragon shouted just before it died. Weary, I continue up the steps and into Dragonsreach.
I speak to the Jarl and tell him about the attack, our victory, and how some power had come within me when the dragon died. Him and his brother, a rather daft sounding Nord, both looked at me, astonished. They then claimed that the thunder I had heard had been some ancient order known as the Grey Beards, summoning me to their monestary and that "Dovahkiin" meant "Dragonborn," which apparently I was. The Jarl told me I should travel to Ivarstead and then up to High Hrothgar. I consider his proposal, but my desire to see my Brothers and Sisters again it pulling me too much by now. I need to get back to the Sanctuary, not go meditate with some old Nords that live in the clouds. I make my way to the Bannered Mare, the inn, and rent my room back. As I stand in my room with the door closed, thinking about what I should do next, I pull my shrouded armor out and look it over. I miss wearing it. I miss fighting along side my Family. I miss the thrill of an assassination gone completely according to plan. I make my decision. I'm heading back to Falkreath and to the Brotherhood's Sanctuary. Tonight.
I must say, black is definitely my color.
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