Posted by
Paul M December 10, 2014 -
569 views
Windhelm itself is still smoldering in the early morning snow, but it is something more than the soot and ash that has been troubling my sleep. The war is now over, and I mean for our night at the Candlehearth Hall to be our last stay in Windhelm for a while.
Two things trouble me as Lydia and I prepare to leave: Firstly, how did Ulfric know me as the dragonborn? He didn't see me absorb the dragon soul at Whiterun, and I can't remember ever telling him about my encounters with the dragons of Skyrim. Admittedly he was there when the dragon attacked Helgan, but no one at that point knew me to be anything remarkable.
The other matter of note is the conspicuous absence of Hadvar from the final battle. Surely the General wouldn't have left a veteran such as him on the bench for the final battle? I decide it might be worth checking in with Hadvar's relatives, so I plan a trip to Riverwood and then on to the Greybeards to enquire about the dragonborn matters. The light snow stops falling, and Lydia and I head off from Windhelm.
I get a little ahead of Lydia somehow, and am attacked by two wolves. Just as I am about to let fly my burning flames I pause and consider all the death of yesterday. I recall a time when I used to shout and calm people into not fighting me, and then remember I learnt a spell to do much the same thing when I was at Winterhold. I manage to calm one of the wolves while Lydia kills its partner in crime using arrows. I feel a corner had been turned in my life as a mage, even if it is just with wolves, and I continue on the road with a small spring in my step.
Somewhere we take a wrong turn, and end up at Fort Amol once more. I decide we'll continue on from here rather than back track, rescheduling to visit the Greybeards before Riverwood. On the road out of the fort we meet three Thalmor elves with a prisoner who they claim is a worshipper of Talos. Something about the situation stinks, so I free the prisoner, giving him Ulfric's clothes and Galmar's axe, and then between my fear spell and a Woodcutter's axe that I enchanted some time ago to cause fear in my enemies I send two of the Thalmor running for their lives while Lydia dispatches the third.
Even with this success, I decide we should maybe leave the main road, so we make use of a dusty path leading up into the wooded mountains. The path eventually brings us to a door adorned with some rustic carved bone decorations, and labeled Darkwater Pass. I check my map, and estimate we're quite close to the Rift hold, which is not at all where I wanted us to be. I poke my head inside the door, and Lydia dives in to dispatch a Falmar, some sort of cave dwelling savage elf, before I decide we'll try and get back on track for the Throat of the World.
The road however turns once more in an unexpected direction, and we arrive in Ivarstead, which I only know as the place where I was arrested for my crimes in Riften. We head to the local tavern as it is 6pm and the rain has started to fall. The barman says that his chief business though is with people on their way to High Hrothgar to see the Greybeards, which is somewhat encouraging. I take some food and a room for the night from him, and question the rest of the clientele, who are a pretty boring lot.
The next morning we set out, and see that in fact we were on the right road to High Hrothgar all along, taking a bridge out of town to the first of the Greybeards' marker stones. Between stones four and five a blood dragon gives us a rough time, but Lydia and I manage to prevail with a little help from a frost troll of all things. After this the final stretch of the journey is no great hardship, and I am soon reunited with Arngier, to whom I hand the horn of Jurgen Windcaller.
I question Arnie about what it means to be dragonborn, and get the idea that it is some sort of divine intervention, no doubt to assist against the return of the dragons. He doesn't mention the recent civil war, or Ulfric's knowledge of this business, or the giant ball of light at the college, and in fact offers nothing to suggest what my next order of business should be.
As Lydia and I head back down the mountain, with the vague notion of getting to Riverwood, I contemplate what it would mean to be a free agent in the world. Yes, every now and then I will be attacked by a dragon, but really, aside from the spectacle of the things, they are no different to being attacked by a snow sabre cat or any other wild creature. If their return was permanent and they became a fact of life, would that really be so bad? Lydia shrugs.
Life is short for us all, and now I have a house in Whiterun, secured against civil unrest, is there much else we really need in this world? Could Yuri Woodcutter bring his travels to an end, and settle down to life as an alchemist, selling potions to the people of Whiterun? Using my connections to the thieves guild in Riften, and as a Legate of the empire, to ship my goods to wider markets off to the south. No doubt my brand would be helped by my stature as a powerful war veteran mage, trained at the mysterious college in Winterhold.
"I wouldn't buy what you're selling," says Lydia with a sly smile, followed by a quick wink. I chuckle as we carry on down the mountain, wandering out into that great undiscovered country: the future.
