I had never been on Whiterun before, and I had seriously entertained the thought of just skipping it and going to Windhelm right away, just to check out if there was still any chance to catch the Devil unprepared, but of course I knew that was futile, and besides I needed some provisions anyway. The guards would not let me in, so I used the message I had been trusted by Alvor, the blacksmith, as an excuse to enter the city. That worked even better than I had expected. They took me right to the jarl, a huge ugly man who, oddly enough, treated me with a courtesy not entirely fit to his complexion. His court, however, was a kind of freak show, only less likely: an schemer imperial steward, a suspicious dunmer housecarl, and a nord mage, nothing less, who attended by the pompous name of Secret Fire! – I wouldn’t think the guy capable of pulling a rabbit out of a hat if his life depended on it! He looked more like the jester than the mage.
They asked me some questions and I answered truthfully, no reason to lie about it, which made the jarl quite pleased with me. He led me then to the mage’s laboratory, to trust me with a mission. The jester, I mean, the mage asked me to go to Bleak Falls Barrow in order to retrieve a stone, related to some long lost nord dragon lore. They all seemed obsessed with this, Mother, talking about the end of the world, and the dragon god Alduin eating the souls of mankind. These conceited nords think everything is about them, so I decided to keep for myself the real reason behind the coming of that dragon and just play along. When I told them I had already been inside Bleak Falls and had brought the stone with me, I was suddenly turned into a hero. Now, that was an opportunity I would seize with two hands, cause I had to admit mother, despite my sympathy and good manners, sadly I was not as welcome as I deserved inside any settlement all around Skyrim, and that included orcs’ strongholds. The housecarl Irileth, notwithstanding, still looked at me with suspicion. You knew her kind too well, mother - a renegade dunmer with a nord soul, like you used to say - we also had some fools like her back in Windhelm. Only she was no fool at all, and I would have to be extra careful around her.
Then, a soldier entered the hall and reported there was a dragon attacking the east watch. That really shocked me and, for a moment, I confess I even considered if that nord talk about the end of times might bear some degree of truth. You know how nords can be superstitious, but you have to admit, mother - one dragon can be a sign, two dragons, however, are a omen. Now, if you add some more dragons into this sum we would have a real nuisance to deal with. The jarl turned to Irileth and ordered her to form a patrol to take care of the dragon. Next he turned to me and invited me to join his force and help them, since I was the only one with some experience in dealing with a dragon. Though my experience was really all about ducking and running away from that damned fire breath, I accepted his offer because I had to see that thing with my own eyes. I swear to you, mother, I will not allow this world to end before I put a dagger in the Devil’s neck and see his blood flow away along with his life, preferably slowly and painfully.
The housecarl gathered more than a hundred soldiers. Now we know how many nords it takes to kill a dragon. But when we got there the tower was almost destroyed by the flames. It was not a natural fire, mother, that was obvious, because its heat was strong enough to burn even dunmer flesh. Those nords, however were anything but fireproof, and they were just being turned into charcoal, while my own flames could barely hurt the scales of that flying monstrosity. Seeing that flames were useless, I took my bow and gave some use to the tricks I had learned from the bosmer. Though the beast seemed deathless, our superiority in numbers eventually won the day. When the dragon fell I hurried towards its huge carcass, along with the others, and then I felt a dizziness while the flesh of the dragon burned and faded away into something like a lucent smoke, floating in my direction. The nord soldiers started to mutter ‘dragonborn’, while pointing their fingers at me. I tried to talk, but instead, from my mouth, came out a powerful cry that swept away the soldier right in front of me.
They took me back to the jarl, and when I was entering the city, a shout still more powerful than the one I had just let out, came from the mountains and seemed to shake the walls. The jarl explained me that the Greybeards had just summoned me to their retreat in the Throat of the World. He explained more about their legend of Dragonborn, Mother. It seems that I somehow fill the role of a hero in one of their legend, and that I should attend immediately to the call coming from the Greybeards, to be instructed in the way of the voice, some kind of nord sorcery. This hero seems to carry a lot of prestige, and the jarl even made me one of his thanes, so, maybe I might use all this superstition in our favor.
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