Force.
A short word. A simple word. But a powerful one.
A force is something that affects the world around it. The slow, steady force of a river carving its bed deeper and deeper. The hard, rapid force of a blade piercing the heart of a foe. The controlled, gentle force of a needle diving in and out of cloth as something grand is sewn. What all force has in common is this: It changes. It leaves behind something that wasn't there before. The force doesn't care whether that be for good or evil; it just is. The great Action, the transition state from Is Not into Is. But every Action, every force, must come from a source. It is the source that determines to what end the force progresses. It is the man wielding the dagger that is blamed for the murder, not the stabs he made with it. It is the seamstress that is credited with the tapestry, not the motion she made with the needles. To those familiar with these forces, they might be analyzed- the depth of the thrusts, the cold analytical calmness behind them; the way she looped one thread under the other, creating the unique texture at the border of the cloth. But it is always the one who has acted, the source of the force, who is accountable for what has been done with it.
I know Force very, very well.
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I approached Whiterun from the southeast. The weather wasn't too cold, unless the breeze started to pick up over the tundra. I was taking my time, picking samples of some of the plants I found alongside the road for the next time I found somewhere with some alchemy supplies. I'd just wandered past some kind of brewery when I heard the sounds of fighting. Curious, I started towards them with one hand resting on the hilt of my sword. Just over the crest of the hill, I got my first sight of the Companions.
They were surrounding a giant (an actual giant! I'd never seen anything like it before), slowly bleeding it down. There were three of them there: a brown haired woman in furs wielding a sword and shield, a big man in iron armor with an even bigger greatsword, and a feral-looking woman with her bow. The woman in furs would dash in and cut at the giant's legs, backing away before he could stomp at her, deflecting his club with her shield. The man, while the giant was preoccupied, would then move in and chop at the giant, who would turn from the woman to face him. The two would alternate their advances, while the third woman took careful aim; the giant's neck and shoulder looked like slowly bleeding pincushions.
Seeing me, the archer called over, "Don't just stand there. Feel free to help, any time now."
Accepting that as my cue, I drew my steel and rushed forward. While the giant was focused on the other two, I put all my weight behind my charge. Raising my sword overhead, I drove it deep into the creature's lower back, to one side, where I assumed the kidneys might have been. The blade became stuck fast, and I backed off quickly as it toppled down to its knees, bellowing in pain. The two in front moved in quick, and it was a matter of seconds then before the beast fell motionless to the earth.
As I dislodged my sword from the body, the woman with the bow approached, and introduced herself as Aela the Huntress.
"You handle yourself well. You could make for a decent shield-brother."
As I walked back to town with the three, she explained. They were members of the Companions, a brotherhood of warriors-for-hire. I was polite, not wanting to leave a bad impression, especially on her. If I was interested, I could go to Jorrvaskr and speak with somebody named Kodlak. I made a note to look into it once I'd reported to the jarl. So long as they didn't have any membership dues or expect me to become a member of some kind of private army, I might be interested.
As we approached the gates, one of the guards stopped me.
"I don't recognize you. You're not one of the Companions, are you?"
"No, sir," I responded, as the other three were let through the gate.
"I'm sorry. I can't let you in. Jarl's orders, until this mess with the dragon rumors is sorted out."
"That's why I'm here. The people of Riverwood asked me to bring a message to the jarl."
The guard hesitated for a moment, but decided to back down. "Fine, you can go in. Don't look like much of a dragon to me, any ways."
The gates were opened enough for me to pass, letting me into the city of Whiterun. I later learned that my first view was of the Plains District. A row of houses, all ending in a sort of central circle around a well, flanked on all sides by merchant stands, shops, and an inn. My first stop was right inside the gate, at the smithy called Warmaiden's, where an Imperial woman named Adrianne worked the forge. I asked if I could use her tanning equipment on a wolf's hide I had gathered during my journey. While I set about the task, I mentioned in passing that I was on my way to the jarl. She was kind enough to give me directions, and asked that I deliver a gift for the jarl to his steward, her father. I took the intended gift, a greatsword of fine craftsmanship, and continued on down the street. I made a stop by an apothecary, where I bought some ingredients and used the mortar and pestle to grind up what I'd already collected on the way.
I admit, I got a little sidetracked with experimenting with some of the ingredients, and time escaped me for a while. It was mid-afternoon by the time I finally reached Dragonsreach, overlooking Whiterun. I made my way into the great hall, where I was stopped by a fierce-looking dark elf woman. As soon as I mentioned Riverwood, the jarl beckoned me forward. I explained what I had seen at Helgen (leaving out the part where I was an escaping prisoner that slaughtered my way through Imperial soldiers), and he ordered troops be sent to Riverwood right away, to the dismay of his steward.
Thinking my business finished, he stopped me before I could turn and take my leave.
"There... is another thing you could do for me, suitable for someone of your particular talents. Come, let's go find Farengar, my court wizard. He's been looking into a matter related to these dragons, and rumors of dragons."
The jarl stood, and I followed him to a room off the side of the great hall, where a blue-robed man was working at an enchanting altar.
"Farengar, I think I've found someone who can help you with your dragon project. Go ahead and fill him in on all the details."
The wizard looked up, clearly not happy with the interruption, but his mood brightened when we began discussing his project. He was missing one vital piece, a stone that was rumored to have been buried in Bleak Falls Barrow. Recalling that I had found such a stone in the central chamber there, I fished it out of my pack before he'd even finished explaining. He almost smiled when he saw it, and thanked me for finding it, surprised at me.
Our conversation was interrupted by the Dunmer woman, Irileth. She came running into the room, an exhausted-looking guardsman at her heels. Apparently, a dragon had been sighted near the Western Watchtower. We all followed her and the guard, who made his report to the jarl himself, who then sent Irileth and me to go investigate. We met up with some more of the guard on our way out of town, and I ran on ahead a little.
Something had attacked the tower.
Irileth caught up, and began questioning the surviving guardsmen. A rumbling in the sky ended their conversation, as a great winged figure flew down from the south. And so I faced my second dragon.
I took cover in the tower, and ascended to its peak, where I fired a few shots off at the dragon. Once it started landing and threatening the guards down below, though, I rushed back down and took up a position near Irileth, who was casting bolts of lightning at it. I saw many guards perish in its flames... men who, just earlier that morning, had no idea that they would ever even see a dragon in their lifetime.
Something in me snapped, I think. All I remember of those last few minutes of fighting was stabbing my sword into the sides of the dragon, drawing its attention. I don't know how I managed to survive, but the next thing I remember was it lying dead at my feet.
Then something happened. Its flesh started to smolder and peel away, burning from the inside out. The bright flames seemed to be drawn to me, and I couldn't help but take a step towards them when I found they didn't burn. The conflagration sped up, and surrounded me. I heard whispers, saw flashes of images at the edge of my vision, but when I turned, all I saw was the bright flame engulfing me. The sound roared in my ears, penetrated deep down into my bones with a clarity unlike anything I had ever experienced before. As it started to slow, the dragon's remains nothing more than a pile of bones and scales barely visible to my blinded eyes, a single word resolved itself from the whispers, seizing on something lurking at the edges of my thoughts.
Fus.
The word resolved itself in my mind. "Force," I knew as though I'd been born with the knowledge, and was only just now remembering. The guards had gathered around me, eyeing me cautiously. They began speaking among themselves, but I was disoriented from the experience still. I recall hearing the word "Dragonborn." When I was finally able to pay attention again, one of them was asking that I do something he called "Shouting." I wasn't sure I knew what he was talking about. One of the other guards laughed derisively at the one speaking to me.
I'm not sure why I turned my head to face him. But when I opened my mouth, it wasn't my voice that knocked him down to his knees. I mean, I think it technically was. It sounded a little like me, and the breath came from my chest, but it felt... different. "Fus," was what I'd said. As I said it, I became it, for a moment. The entire world focused down into one breath, one exhalation, one tiny little Force.
The guards all looked at me in awe and respect. I couldn't help but be a little frightened, and maybe even a little exhilarated.
"Dragonborn or no, we have a dead dragon. That I understand."
Irileth walked forward, unimpressed. She asked that I report back to the jarl, while she and the other guards made sure the fallen had a respectful sendoff into the next world.
I went at a swift jog, and had made it to Whiterun's stables when they sky shook. At first I thought it was thunder (it had grown cloudy on my way back), but it echoed far too loudly, and was clearly a word. "Dovahkiin."
I sprinted the rest of the way to Whiterun.
As soon as I made it through the gates, I was stopped by a confrontation between some Redguard men and city guards, arguing. On their way past, one of the Redguards asked if I would keep an eye out for a Redguard woman in Whiterun, and report her to them, saying they were relocating to Rorikstead. I agreed, hardly paying attention, trying to catch my breath. I made my way through the city to Dragonsreach, where I explained to the jarl everything that I understood.
In return, he told me a little of the Greybeards, the people (or beings, no mere mortal could have made the sky rumble and the earth shake as they had) who were apparently summoning the Dragonborn. Summoning me. He advised that I make the pilgrimage up the slopes of the great mountain to the east, named me a Thane of his court, and offered me a place by his side at the feast that evening.
I spent the rest of the evening discussing things with him and Farengar, and spent all of my coin on spell tomes. I eventually took my leave, and made my way to the doors out of the main hall. It was there that I ran into her.
Her name was Lydia. As a thane, it was my honor to be given a housecarl, my personal bodyguard. She was a fine-looking Nord woman with brown hair that went just down past her shoulders. I introduced myself, and asked if she was going to follow me.
"Only if you want me to, Thane. Otherwise, I'll wait in Dragonsreach until I am called on. If you ever buy property in Whiterun, then I'll move in there and see that it is kept well."
It's been a while since I've had somebody to share my travels with. Not wanting to offend the culture, I accepted her service, and we went and took a room at the inn down in the plains district.
I was still trying to clear my head, sort through everything that had happened that day, when the serving girl stopped by Lydia and me. I almost missed it, I was so out of it, but she was a Redguard, and those men had been looking for a Redguard woman... I mentioned it to her, and she asked to speak with me privately.
"Wait here, Lydia."
I followed her into one of the inn's back rooms, when she turned and pulled her dagger on me. I raised my own sword in a defensive stance, already on-edge. I managed to talk her down, barely, and she explained that she was on the run from her homeland, and that the men looking for her wanted to take her back to Hammerfell to be executed in the name of the Aldmeri Dominion. I offered to take care of the men after her, out of habit, and she thanked me. She told me one of them was in the Dragonsreach prison, and might know where the others are hiding out.
That settled, Lydia and I retired to the room I'd purchased for us for the night, where I am writing this by magelight, one of the new spells I think I've just about got down. Lydia lies sleeping on one edge of the bed (the inn had but one remaining), and I am hoping the brightness doesn't wake her. Tomorrow morning, I plan on going back to Dragonsreach and looking in on the prisoner. I think I'll make sure Saadia is safe before I begin the pilgrimage up the mountain. I am eager to find out what all of this is about, but if her life is in danger, I'm sure the Greybeards will forgive me for making them wait just a little longer.
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