Ugolin, memories out of sequence. The Seven Thousand Steps.

• Posted by Paws April 5, 2013 - 990 views

  High Hrothgar's massive iron dooors shut behind him with a dull, reverberating clang, leaving the Dragonborn exposed to the cold, bitter wind.  Flurries of snow wrapped themselves around him, stinging his face, biting his nose and somehow finding every gap in his collar. Pulling his hood lower over his face and robes tighter around him to ward off the cold, Ugolin headed back down the long winding path of the Seven Thousand Steps.

  Nothing was ever easy, he thought irritably; there was always one more hoop to jump through and right now he felt like a Pahmar in a Khajiit circus. Acknowledged as the first Dragonborn in centuries to answer their summons, the Greybeards were nevertheless reticent about revealing too much. So despite pleading for greater knowledge like a novice conjuror begging a learned sage, Ugolin was told only enough to necessitate more answers.

  

  He had been given a new objective, however; his destination the High Fane of Ustengrav - resting place of Jurgen Windcaller and his eponymous horn. The Greybeards had revealed a few things afterall - or more accurately their library had - for amongst his newly exposed ability to project his voice into a Thu'um - a Shout like the recently returned dragons could - Ugolin also learned some obscure details of Skyrim's history.

  Jurgen Windcaller, later known as Jurgen the Calm, was the mightiest Tongue of his age. He had established The Way of the Voice after the nord defeat during The Battle of Red Mountain, a conflict that occurred when the Dunmer were still Chimer. Ugolin knew a little history, learning bits here and there while living amongst the cult communities of Cyrodiil, yet he still found it hard to believe a Daedric Prince like Azura could be powerful enough to change an entire race of mer. Yet it was somehow easier to believe that than to give credence to his own soul being a blessing bestowed upon Nirn by the Divines.

  There was something else about the story of that battle that resonated within Ugolin. Something more had happened and it centred around the role Wulfharth, the Ash King had played in the history of the nord defeat. Determined to understand exactly what happened, Ugolin suspected he would also need to research the dwemer disappearance - another consequence of that momentous and world shaking clash of racial ideologies.

  

  That little mystery set aside for future investigation, Ugolin reflected upon what he could understand from the books and remember from his younger history lessons. The participant races of The Battle of Red Mountain were only after one thing for themselves: The Heart of Lorkhan - said to be a piece of a god, part of the fabric of the Nirn itself. Each cultural group wanted it and the power it would confer and for that the Chimer were cursed. For that, Ugolin suspected, the Dwemer were obliterated.

  Was this why Jurgen Windcaller "went away humbled", dedicating his life to the worship and glory of the gods? Had it less to do with sorrow about the nord disaster and more about fear and awe at divine powers unleashed in retribution for dwemer blasphemy? Ugolin had his doubts.

  He needed to think it all through again. All his life he had been taught about the power of the Daedric Princes, their influence on the mortal plane and why they should be worshipped. His time spent with believers from the many shrines dotted around Cyrodiil's wilderness, each a seperate occult denomination, had brought him into contact with people touched in some way by the Daedra. From the brilliant to the profane, the inspired to the grotesque, Ugolin couldn't deny the reallity of Daedric inspiration. Yet in all that time he had never seen any evidence of Aedric might.

  So why did Jurgen Windcaller choose to worship the Aedra, when it was the Daedra Azura who's power - assuming it was true- was most evident in the form of the newly changed Dunmer? Certainly something motivated his decision, a decision which appeared to pay off according to the emblems scattered along High Hrothgar's path: the "seventeen disputants" could not shout him down.

  

  Was Jurgen's power and mastery of the Voice a divine gift? Was his own power a gift form Akatosh as Arngeir claimed? Were the gods of Tamriel as real and powerful as the Daedric Lords?

  With a start, Ugolin shook off his introspection. To his surprise he'd walked the entire Seven Thousand Steps while deep in thought, during which time the bad weather had cleared, afternoon had given way to evening and lights from the settlement of Ivarstead shone out from ahead.

  Pulling his cowl up from his face, Ugolin looked up at the pale stars fresh and faintly gleaming in the darkening sky above. As he turned his steps in the direction of the village and the warmth of it's welcoming inn, he couldn't help marvelling at what a beautiful, magical time of day dusk was.