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The Tenth Hold	By : Singalmo Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 23706 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls : Skyrim, or anything related to it. This fiction is purely for entertainment and I do not profit from it in any way.

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Meeting Jarl Balgruuf was perhaps not as formal an affair as Seved had expected. Admittedly, he was used to what was left of the ceremony in Morrowind, and the very definite airs of Cyrodiil, having dealt with them for the majority of his life. Still, Dragonsreach was a fine place for a Jarl’s seat to be as far as Seved was concerned. It was large and open, and the hall itself felt inviting. This was the home of a man who wanted his people to feel as welcome as his own family, and that sat well with Seved.

He was maybe not quite as impressed with Farengar, but he could understand the man’s frustrations. Strength was the thing that Nords favored most, and that was most evident in a person’s swordarm rather than magic. More than once he had heard mages referred to as “milk-drinkers” by the locals. A pejorative that he recalled his mother using a time or two in reference to someone who was weak, particularly of constitution. The insult was meant to state that a person was so weak that they could not stomach the strong ales and meads that Skyrim was famous for. It could also be used to refer to a mama’s boy, implying that the individual was still latched onto their mother’s teat, though that was a less frequently used interpretation of the pejorative. Yet here was Farengar, a strong Nord man, and from what little Seved could tell, an accomplished wizard. He had to be, else he would not be in a Jarl’s court. After receiving the details of what Farengar needed, Seved had decided to ask if the man could teach him a bit more about magic, since Seved seemed to have a growing talent for it. Farengar was kind enough to explain that sometimes mages are, essentially, late bloomers, and that unfortunately he had not the facilities in Dragonsreach to teach a prospective student. Seved would have to make his way up to Winterhold if he wanted more formal instruction. He made a mental note to do that when he got the opportunity.

Seved made his way back down the steps to have a hearty breakfast at The Bannered Mare before finishing his business in the market district. He had a new set of armor and weapons still cooling at Adrianne’s forge that he would want before delving into an ancient Nord ruin. He had thought to head up into the barrow anyway and so Farengar’s errand would be no trouble to him. He sat down at a table and a lovely Redguard woman, her face perfect except for the scar on her cheek, scurried up to serve him. Saadia was her name, he learned, and she was a pleasant woman to chat with, even if it was only for a few moments at a time. Something seemed off about her mannerisms, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Still, perhaps if his timing was good, he’d be eating in this place again, and maybe if the time was right he could tempt the woman to join him in his room for a while. It would be rather nice, he thought, to not have to pay or be paid for sex. It had become something of an irony that the vast majority of his time with his pants down was being paid for in one way or another. His thoughts drifted briefly to Til, the Altmer girl who had spent five very happy and mostly naked years with him and his fellows in Anvil. He looked at the small space of the tavern and thought of how happy she would be in this place, despite the cold. She would love the music of the bards, the rich food, the good people here.

He shoved the thought back violently in his mind with a long swig of ale. He could not stand such thoughts right then, they were distracting to him. He lamented that he had not had time to properly mourn her loss, but considering what little he knew of the Thalmor he had been sure they were hot on his tail until Helgen. That incident may have bought him time, but he’d probably have to deal with their agents again sooner or later. He silently promised the Nine that he would make the proper offerings as soon as he could. Til needed to be mourned, and needed to be let go. A warmth filled him then, though he wasn’t sure if it was the presence of some spirit or other, or simply the food and ale, and he he relaxed. He would need to leave soon if he wanted to reach the ruin while there was still daylight.

A full belly and one impressively long hike later saw Seved on the path which led up to Bleak Falls Barrow. The path up the mountain was clear, at least most of the way. The wolf had been a bit of a surprise, but desperate animals do desperate things. This was something that Seved understood well. The snow was falling on top of the mountain, however, and as he got further up, the wind had begun to pick up as well. He did not like the idea of encountering anything in a blizzard. Still, he pressed on. He noticed the ruins of a watchtower blending in with the mountainside and he crouched down, trying to find cover. He spotted movement ahead and decided not to risk it. He reached for his bow and knocked an arrow, watching the spot where he’d seen movement. He drew slowly, inhaling as he did so. He held steady, adjusting for the wind and the distance. Maybe a hundred yards, give or take. He held his breath and focused. He loosed the arrow and exhaled, watching it sail through the air and then seeing something fall to the ground. He’d been right. He knocked and drew a second arrow and waited, seeing further movement. He spotted the second bandit as it drew closer and he loosed the arrow, which lodged itself in the man’s chest. Two arrows, two dead men. He noted that the first he had killed, near the tree, he’d managed to land the arrow right between the man’s eyes. That made him smile. He made his way up the tower to make sure there were no more and smirked to himself, using the wooden floor to his advantage. He set it alight under the last bandit, who couldn’t get out in time to save himself.

“Three here, and this is a good place to watch the road... There’s probably more ahead.” Seved did not mind talking to himself in this instance. It sometimes helped him to keep his thoughts steady. The storm raged worse as Seved made his way further up the mountain. The wind was howling in his ears once he reached the barrow. He could hardly see, so there was no sense in using the bow. He drew his sword, fire in the other hand, and charged his way forward, knowing that if there was opposition, it would see him coming. Two archers and one with a large hammer. He cursed under his breath since they had him flanked. Clever positioning on their part. He dodged the hammer wielder and moved to the left, forcing the first archer to reposition himself. This left all three now clearly in front of Seved rather than flanking him. He lunged at the first archer and before the bandit could draw a dagger, Seved’s sword had sliced open his chest. A second blow finished him off and Seved spun to the right, ducking under the hammer swing and swinging low. It wasn’t as solid a blow as Seved would have liked, but the second swing was better, staggering the man. A third swing sliced him from shoulder to hip and the bandit fell to the ground, lifeless. Seved yelped as an arrow found a chink in his armor and lodged into his side. He charged the remaining archer and swung perhaps a bit more wildly than he would have liked. The woman dodged his first swings but had backed herself into a pillar. Seved’s sword hit home, making the woman cry out in pain. A final slice to the throat finished her off. Seved panted and winced, looking to the arrow in his side. He grabbed the shaft and held his breath, knowing how badly this would hurt. He yanked the arrow free and hissed as he did so. Thankfully it had not gone in too deep, but the wound meant he would need to be more cautious. He readied his bow, crouched down, and made his way to the great door of the barrow. It was a marvel simply to look at. He felt something calling to him as he touched the door. A whisper unlike anything he’d heard before. Cautiously, he pushed the door open and slipped inside, eager to get out of the blizzard.

His eyes adjusted to the dimmer light as he shut the door behind him. He noted two dead bandits near him as he crept forward. There were voices ahead, two of them, one male, one female. He listened as he crept further forward, still unseen. They spoke of another who had gone deeper into the ruin. That was all Seved needed to know. He knocked an arrow, aimed at the woman, and loosed. The second bandit turned, trying to spot the large Nord in the shadows, but wound up with an arrow in his chest before he could take a step. Seved looted the four corpses, but kept his movements silent and steady. Falling back into old habits had perhaps been a bit easier than he’d imagined. He was, however, slightly disappointed at the contents of the chest. Ah well, there was still a ruin to explore, no?

He reached forward with his empty hand to gently part the cobwebs that had covered the passage. He was a little surprised that whoever had gone ahead hadn’t managed to disturb them too badly. Still, the place was ancient. He wondered how long it had been since anyone had really been down there. He admired what was left of the ancient stonework with its swirling patterns all over the walls and ceiling. How fascinating it would be to speak to those who had carved these halls, to understand why they did things. This was history, his history, and he wanted to know more.

He pushed onward, nervous about the trapped lever, and maybe a little startled by the skeevers, but he had to keep going. Something still whispered to him, he could feel it getting a little louder as he went. He noticed the cobwebs getting thicker, more persistent in their clinging. No, these were not cobwebs, these were spider webs. He grimaced as he moved forward. He really, really hated spiders.

He cut through the webs blocking the door and made his way into the next room. He heard someone shouting for help and saw the rather large spider descend from the ceiling. Seved, knowing his wound, stayed back as much as he could, dancing around the beast as he cast the fire spell in his hand, keeping it doused in flames until he couldn’t maintain the spell any longer. Only then did he risk getting closer to the thing to swing with his sword. The thing bludgeoned him with one leg before Seved landed the killing blow. The thing collapsed and Seved breathed a sigh of relief. He hated spiders.

The Dunmer trapped in the webbing was desperate. Ranting about some kind of power that was hidden away by the Nords. Seved wasn’t sure he believed the elf, but decided to cut him down all the same. He cursed loudly when the elf took off running without a second thought. He crouched down once more and followed silently, unsure of what might be disturbed by the mad elf.

He crept on into the burial crypts, noting the skeletons and mummified Draugr in the burial niches. How many hundreds, if not thousands of years had these things been here? Could one of these corpses be his ancestor’s? He noted that some had proper armor on them. Ancient, of course, but still. He decided to stab at one with his sword, to be safe. Sure enough, the thing had been unliving. Had been. He smirked. Now he could probably get the jump on more of them, if there were more. He stabbed the next one he found, and noted a third that had already gotten up from its niche. Perhaps the Dunmer’s work? A fourth not far past a pressure plate and Seved reached for his bow, sheathing his sword quietly. Sure enough, there was a Draugr standing up not far ahead. The Dunmer hadn’t made it too much further ahead, then. He smirked as he crept forward, seeing the elf’s body at the feet of another undead. Seved would have to forge his own way forward, but it would be well worth it if what the Dunmer said had been true. And even still, he’d probably get another reward from Jarl Balgruuf for completing Farengar’s errand.

He noted the heavy golden claw that the elf had been raving about, and the symbols on its inside. A bear, a dragonfly, and an owl. He wondered what those meant, if anything, and placed the ornament in his pack. There was more to explore still. Ever onward, ever deeper into the ruins he went. A handful of Draugr was all that stood in his way. He had to be getting closer to what the mage wanted. This wasn’t like those Dwemer ruins that you hear stories about where people go in and don’t come out for days at a time because the ruin is so extensive. At last he opened the door into the Hall of Stories. He looked at the carvings on the wall and a shiver ran down his spine. Not a shiver of fear, but one of excitement. Like somehow, this was part of him. Part of his story. The story of his people. How long had it been since anyone passed through this hall? The figure changing from one priest into another, one person into another as he progressed to the door. He looked at the rings and remembered the claw. It wasn’t just an ornament, it was a key! He turned the rings until they matched the order on the claw, bear, dragonfly, owl, and then set the claw onto the center piece, using it to push inward and turn, like opening a lock. The door responded in kind, lurching three times and then finally sliding open fully. Seved drew his sword and proceeded forward with caution.

The open cave was almost startling, but what was most intrigued him was the prominent tomb and the strange semi-circular wall behind it. As he drew closer to the wall, he could hear voices chanting, one of the words on the wall was glowing. It whispered to him. It was strange. He thought perhaps he should run, and yet he was drawn to that glowing word. He could not pull himself away from it. Dispelling the fire from his left hand he traced the strange markings on the wall, the claw-like letters, if they could be called letters. The world faded from around him for a moment. All was blackness and sound. The voices sounded triumph of some sort, yet that was not important. All that mattered was that single word, the only thing visible in that moment. The sound of it echoed in his ears from some long forgotten past and etched itself into his mind, into his very soul.

“Fus.”

The world came back into focus and Seved blinked. He turned around, still mystified, and went to inspect the tomb and the nearby chest. He jumped back as the ancient Draugr burst forth from it. He steadied his sword arm and called the fire back up. Flame and steel made fairly quick work of the thing. It had shouted at him and made him stagger, though Seved couldn’t make out the words. He panted softly as the thing lay dead at his feet. He sheathed his sword and looked into the tomb, seeing an interesting stone inside. It must have been what Farengar was after. Seved nodded and carefully wrapped the cloth in some ancient linen he’d found nearby before sliding it into a secure spot in his pack. This trip had been worth it, to be sure, but he would have many questions when he got back to Whiterun.

He had been a little surprised that the trader in Riverwood, Lucan, had been the owner of that golden claw. Still, the weighty bag of gold in his hands was more than enough to set Seved’s mind at ease. It wasn’t far back to the city and he could get Arcadia or maybe the priestess of Kynareth to take a good look at the wound in his side, make sure it didn’t get infected. Still, he decided to take a more leisurely pace back to Whiterun. His side ached a little.

Seved did manage to sell a fair amount of his loot before he saw Arcadia. She was a good woman, to be sure, and was happy to take a look at his side. She wasn’t as skilled as the priestess of Kynareth, she admitted, but at the very least she could keep the wound from being infected and get it bandaged for Seved. He was grateful for that. She was a brilliant alchemist from what he could see. He recalled some of his own dabbling in the past and asked her questions as she worked. She was happy to answer him and he smiled. She was a natural teacher, to be sure, but there would be others, too. He thought he should find someone to teach him more properly about the various herbs and their uses. Being able to mix a healing salve in the field would be invaluable.

At last, Seved made his way up the steps to Dragonsreach. He was a little surprised to see that Farengar had a visitor when he arrived. He noted that the woman wore simple leather armor and kept her head hooded. This was someone who did not want to be recognized. Yet still, her voice sounded oddly familiar to him. He could not place it, though, and so he simply kept it in mind for later musings. He had business with the mage so his suspicions could wait at least a few minutes. The mage was pleased with the work and explained that the woman beside him had been the one to discover the item’s location. Seved nodded respectfully to her compliments. Whoever she was, she was a resourceful woman and likely not one to be trifled with.

Irileth brought news that made Seved wince involuntarily. A dragon had been sighted not far from the city. The Dunmer woman was serious by nature, but there was a concern that concealed a mild terror in her voice which made the Nord shiver. This was no joke. He followed her up the stairs to talk to Balgruuf, along with Farengar and a guard. He listened closely to what the guard said, but noted that he hadn’t mentioned the color of its scales. That seemed odd to him, but then again, this was the first time any dragons had been seen in an age or more. Seved understood the Jarl’s request to go and help fight the dragon.

“You survived Helgen, so you have more experience than anyone else here.” Balgruuf was quite serious. Seved opened his mouth to correct the Jarl, but then thought better of it and shut his mouth again. Yes, he had more experience, but that was in running away and avoiding the dragon altogether, not direct confrontation. From what little he could remember of Helgen in that moment, most of the soldiers’ weapons were ineffectual against that great black beast. He wondered if it was even possible to kill a dragon. Still, he would go and help if he could.

Irileth’s speech at the main gate was certainly more than enough to rally the men who were mustered there. It certainly did much to raise Seved’s own confidence, given the situation. He volunteered to run ahead of the main group and cut across the field to get to the watchtower first and see what was going on. He surged ahead, forcing himself to deal with the pain of his still wounded side. He had to know if it was the same beast. If it was, there wasn’t much to be done, he was sure. He reached a small rock across the road from the watchtower and panted softly as he halted, looking at the wreckage before him. The tower had already been in ruins, he was sure, but there were fires still burning around the place. Something had definitely been through. He waited for the others to get there before going to the tower directly. One of the guards was still there, still terrified. Then they heard it overhead. Seved recognized the sound, yet it was different. He looked upward.

It was not the same beast. It was different. Maybe they could take the thing down? The battle did not last long, though Seved was quite singed from the few passes the beast made while breathing fire. It destroyed one of the guards, but Seved managed to land several blows while it was busy. Enough wounds to take the beast down. He panted softly and was thinking about skinning the beast when he noticed it. The flesh was melting off of its bones, erupting into fire and fading. Seved started to step back, thinking the whole thing would burst into flame. Yet something flowed into him, then. A power like fire surged from the beast directly to Seved. It staggered him and he felt somehow, stronger. The world went white briefly. He looked up to the heavens and he understood. He channeled that strength.

“FUS!” He shouted at the sky and a wave of force flowed from him and up into the air, dissipating after some distance. He blinked. What in Oblivion was going on? The guards stared at him in awe. They had seen what had happened, what he had done. Finally one of them spoke.

“You’re... Dragonborn!” Seved blinked and looked at the man.

“What?”

“Dragonborn! One who could slay dragons and steal their power. That’s what you just did, isn’t it? Stole the dragon’s power?”

“I-- I don’t know... What-- just happened?”

“You Shouted. That can only mean one thing. You’re Dragonborn.”

Seved stood in awe and looked at the skeleton of the beast they had slain, listening as the men talked for a minute or two. Irileth was healthily skeptical for a Dunmer. She accepted the facts, however. There was a dead dragon. That was all that mattered to her. It was possible to kill them. Seved nodded slowly. She was right. That was all that mattered at that moment.

“I-- had better go back and tell Balgruuf what happened...”

“Go on,” Irileth nodded to him. “We’ll follow you soon enough.”

He nearly fell to the ground when the sky burst into thunder. He wheeled around to its source, the great mountain, The Throat of the World.

“DO-VAH-KHIIN!” The sound echoed all around him and he shuddered. Something stirred inside him. That voice, whatever it was, was talking to him. He swallowed hard and sprinted all the way back up to Dragonsreach.
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The Tenth Hold