Rastislav
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Arc 7 Chapter LXIX: Stormcrowned
🕑 Added 2024-07-30 01:41:56 +0000 UTCArngeir, eye still twitching, takes a long fortifying breath before looking back up at me "I was doing quite well thank you for asking.” He mutters with false politeness before settling into a frustrated glare “That is until someone decided it would be immensely entertaining to them to have a dragon land before the halls of High Hrothgar!”
“Dragon?” I ask and look around as if lost “What dragon?”
His glare becomes even dryer somehow “And then, to make things even worse, the dragon decided to take years off my life by calling you his master.”
“Krein can be cheeky like that.” I grin.
Arngeir huffs “I am sure he is the cheeky one.” He shakes his head and decides to stop giving me openings to frustrate him further, straightening himself and turning to Minthara he spoke “Dragonborn, I trust that you have returned with the horn?”
She fiddles with the back of her belt before pulling it out “It was a chore but I got it.”
“Yes.” Arngeir mutters “For someone of your power I have no doubts the old test would be more than a light walk. Still, I feel the need to ask, were there any difficulties in getting it?”
“Well, there was this one dragon waiting for us outside.” Minthara hums before shrugging “Died real quick when I used the horn though.”
“You… used the horn?” Arngeir blinks in surprise.
“Was I not supposed to?” She tilts her head “It seemed really eager to be used.”
“That thing has actual power?” I focus on the supposed trinket and immediately extend my hand “Gimme.”
Arngeir begins to sputter about treating a relic with more respect but Minthara wastes no time in tossing it to me. I look over the enchantments, humming all the while, before slowly nodding to myself “Yep, the usual Dovahzul scheme if a bit more complex, far too inefficient power wise but still damn useful if you can get it to work.”
“Inefficient?!” Arngeir continues voicing his indignance “Young man, that is the relic of the founder of our order, not some toy for you to examine!”
“And the founder of your order was a warmongering conqueror before he got his ass handed to him.” I shrug with a light grin, giving the horn back to Minthara “No point sputtering denials about it old man, it is a useful tool and should be treated as such.”
“Of course your irreverence would still somehow manage to surprise me.” He shakes his head, a lot of the previous heat suddenly missing “We were not even aware the horn could grant anything but the insight into storms it gave each of us when we finished our trials.”
“I did say it seemed almost eager to be used.” Minthara notes “Could it be that Jurgen Windcaller prepared it for a Dragonborn all those years ago?”
“Hmm.” Arngeir turns silent and tugs at his beard in thought briefly before shaking his head “I do not believe the criteria is merely being Dragonborn, or else Hjalti Early-Beard would have taken its power all those centuries ago.”
“The soul held within does feel pretty powerful.” I point out “It could be that Jurgen imbued the artifact with the intent of aiding us against the prophecy and it just activated due to the number of dragons flapping about.” It could have just been Minthara actually eating dragonsouls unlike Talos but I did feel I should throw ole’ Arngeir a bone for once.
And my words seemed to have worked as the man almost preened with pride at the idea “Our founder was certainly wise enough to foresee its need.” He turns to Minthara with a serious look “Since the horn asks to be used I would be remiss to request you follow tradition and return it to its resting place. Use it well, and use it wisely.”
“I will not dishonor it by doing otherwise.” She inclines her head.
“Shouldn’t you ask your fellow old men first?” I raise an eyebrow “I am not sure all of them are as… agreeable as you.”
His eye twitches but to my mild surprise his expression suddenly turns smug “We are a brotherhood and of one mind in these matters. Besides, my brothers have been present this entire time.” And as he speaks the air next to him shimmers, revealing a trio of old men I could not sense moments prior.
I let out an amused chuckle, noting to myself that I should up my passive perception when dealing with them, and offer them a bow “You are a very scary bunch of old farts.”
The eldest among them, Bori, joins me in my amusement, giggling like an old fool.
The other two merely shake their heads, even as thin smirks make their beards twitch ever so slightly.
“Now, I do believe we have been standing off for long enough.” Arngeir speaks up after a moment and waves for us to enter the temple “High Hrothgar welcomes you both.”
Raising my eyebrow at the lack of their previous hostility I decide I didn’t really care and begin following them, Minthara hesitating for but a moment longer before doing so as well.
Food and drink offered and accepted, we were invited into a stony room I recognized as the one from the truce conference would be held in a different timeline and as we settled in Arngeir asked Minthara for a retelling of er pilgrimage.
Things went well to start with but after she got to the tomb and the dispatched necromancers the Greybeard began asking her about the trials and the murals surrounding them, how she interpreted their messages and how they led her toward the completion of her task.
When she asked him “What murals?” With a dumbfounded look the man looked so crushed I burst out laughing, Bori, the mad coot, joining me eagerly while the other two barely held themselves back from speaking up.
“How did you know to pass the gates then?” Arngeir asks almost pleadingly.
Minthara gives him a dumbfounded look “The gates opened when I walked up to the enchanted stones and closed when I made some distance, it was obvious I just needed to move faster so I used whirlwind sprint.”
The man looks like a part of him cracked at that “Ah, I… see?” He slumps into his stone seat “I guess that there must be some wisdom in simplicity.”
“You calling me stupid old man?” Minthara narrows her eyes.
“No, no!” He immediately raises his arms placatingly “I am merely… shaken by our differences.” He slowly lowers them as the irritated demigod doesn’t try and murder him “For most of us the journey is one of spirituality and not practicality, to see one of the trials turned to a mere problem instead of a path to enlightenment is… eye opening.” He settles on the words diplomatically.
“What possible enlightenment could you find in having to move faster?” She asks him like he was an idiot.
He looks ready to rebuke her but decides he prefers his skin on his body so merely settles on shaking his head “Had you taken the time to observe the reliefs carved into the gate stones you would have realized it held a tale of one of the founder’s journeys before he built High Hrothgar, the message of which was to surrender one’s self to the guidance of Kyne so that her winds may take you forth on your journey.”
Seeing that Minthara was about to offer another mildly abrasive comment to the poor old men I decided to cut in “I see what the issue is, she understands the Thu’um instinctively where it is but a mere language for her that she uses to direct her power. The story was likely what most of you used to actually understand the shout in the first place, yes?”
Arngeir blinks while the rest of his brothers lean in, a certain glint in their eyes “It was not merely most of us” Arngeir corrects after a brief silence “It was all of us.”
“I see.” I mutter and then shrug “Makes sense.”
“If anything, the differences in understanding the Thu’um and its purpose is clearer to us now.” Arngeir nods and turns back to Minthara “I apologize for my presumptions, Dragonborn. We all have our paths to thread.”
Mildly embarrassed by the sudden shift she looks down briefly “Yes, umm… Apologies to you as well.”
He nods a few times, satisfied “Would you care to describe to us your interaction with the horn? I admit my brothers and I are immensely curious as to its newfound purpose.”
And so she does, drawing looks of awe and pride from the brotherhood as they no doubt patted themselves on the back for something none of them had any part in.
About an hour after our arrival, the tale was finished and all the questions asked. Arngeir did seem curious as to where our other companions were but considering our manner of arrival he merely settled on asking about the Blades and what our plans were with them. The old man seemed positively giddy when he heard Minthara’s opinion on Delphine’s ideology.
The band of old men thus satisfied, they bid us wait while they prepared for “The Ceremony”.
“What ceremony were they talking about?” Minthara asks me the moment the last Greybeard leaves the room.
“Old coots wanted to sound cryptic.” I chuckle “Basically they are going to officially accept you as a divinely ordained Dragonborn, something I have no doubts is going to be heard by the whole province.”
Understanding the implications she groans “Par for the course at this point.”
“Yep, and it will only get worse!” I grin and give her a thumbs up, getting a flipped bird for my trouble I decide to be extra cheeky “Oh, and do prepare yourself to get shouted at.”
“Wait what?!”
Some time later we found ourselves standing in the temple’s central chamber, my ass firmly planted in a corner where I wouldn’t get hit by whatever was about to happen as the four old coots stood around Minthara with solemn expressions for a full minute now.
Each of the four bore a prominently sized amulet on their chest, one for Kyne, one for Shor, one for Akatosh, and the last, born on Borri’s chest was less of an amulet and more of a very small tabard, marked with Dovahzul and serving as emblem for the Greybeards themselves.
A tad arrogant but one had to have some pride to secret themselves from the world in ascetic worship for centuries.
“Dovahkiin.” Arngeir speaks and the air shimmers “You have retrieved the horn of Jurgen Windcaller, and thus completed your trials.” He offers a brief grandfatherly smile before turning gravely serious “The time has come then for you to be formally recognized as Dragonborn. Center and prepare yourself, for the Greybeards would speak to you.”
She nods seriously and takes a fortifying breath, and then… the air shakes.
“Lingrah krosis saraan Strundu'ul, voth nid balaan klov praan nau.”
The words are followed by a sense of longing, one of asking for the gods to send forth a messenger, and a sense of hope now that they were finally uttered.
“Naal Thu'umu, mu ofan nii nu, Dovahkiin, naal suleyk do Kaan, naal suleyk do Shor, ahrk naal suleyk do Atmorasewuth.”
A divine jubilation, a praise to the gods, and a welcome of kin long lost.
“Meyz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom. Dahmaan daar rok.”
Finally a shout of recognition, of fealty, and a conferring of a duty most sacred.
The air shakes and cracks but Minthara doesn’t so much as twitch, taking the words head on and standing tall and proud. The Greybeards look upon her with approval as the final words leave them and for the briefest moment the image of a majestic crown forms above her head before disappearing just as quickly.
The monks look surprised, covering their expressions in almost an instant but I was certain that none of them would forget this blatant a manifestation for years to come.
“You have withstood the voice of the Greybeards.” Arngeir speaks gravely yet proudly “High Hrothgar is forevermore open to you, and all who would aid you in your sacred cause.”
Still a bit taken with the ceremony, Minthara foregoes any quips and bows solemnly “You have my thanks, masters.”
All of the Greybeards offer bows and a newfound air of mutual respect slowly forms between all of them.
A perfect opportunity, if I do say so myself.
“Cute ass all of this is.” I stand up, drawing immediate attention and the usual indignation that followed me being my most charming self “I do believe it was time you sent us on our way to meet with Paarthurnax.”
The Greybeards tense, even Arngeir seemingly losing his usual tolerance for my bullshit as he faced me, but that same tension was promptly broken by Borri, who chuckled at my audacity and spoke to his brothers in a rasp that could barely be called a whisper “Who are we to hold back such an earnest petition?” He asks them with humor.
Einarth, still a bit shaken looks at him with surprise “But brother, what if they harm the master?”
“Harm?” Borri raises an eyebrow “Are you so blind, brother mine, that you did not see the dragon they came with? They desire to speak and we have no right to stop them.”
“Excuse me.” Minthara clears her throat “Who exactly is this Paarthurnax?” Her eyes narrow “The name sounds suspiciously draconic.”
“That is because it is.” Arngeir sighs “Very well then, it was bound to happen sooner rather than later.” He begins to walk “Follow me outside and we will send you on the path to the leader of our order.”
As we follow the monks Minthara elbows my side “A dragon leads the Greybeards?” She hisses quietly.
“Fitting, no?” I grin “Don’t worry though, he is to be trusted.”
“I will believe it when I see it.” She mutters, a newfound decisiveness in her eyes.
“Ascend the mountain and seek the master’s wisdom.” Arngier offers his goodbyes “The Greybeards will pray you find the answers you seek.”
We both nod and turn to the raging storm of ice baring the path forward. I give Minthara a look and she takes a long breath.
Then she shouts “LOK VAH KOOR!”
The storm abates, and our path is open.
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A/n: The Greybeards speech: Long has the Storm Crown languished with no worthy brow to sit upon. 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. You are Ysmir now, the Dragon of the North. Hearken to it.
Comments
Ryan Helmbold
Lol imagine if he gets up there and its an anime tsundere dragon girl XD
Rastislav
Slightly Less Random Ass Reply
High Simp of Mephala
Random Ass Comment
Delltree100
Wonderful chapter author sama.
