Dragonborn Rising Ch. 02

Rorikstead

Naadia Heart-Striker awoke the next morning completely refreshed. She stretched and lounged for a moment under the warm blankets and furs. She remembered each detail of the dream she had experienced and savored the moment. She considered laying there and pleasuring herself, as her hands massaged her breasts and a finger glided down her stomach and found her clitoris. Where was Vilkas when she needed him, she thought. Shaking her head. she sat up and realized that would have to wait until tomorrow. "One more day's ride and THEN we will have our sweet reunion," she said out loud, as she swung her legs out of bed, stood and stretched again.

She padded naked across the room to a sideboard, where a wash basin and cleaning clothes were located. She splashed some water on her face, using the briskness of the cold liquid to bring her fully awake. She then used a washrag to wipe down the rest of her body. Turning, she saw that by the door her clothing and armor were folded and waiting to be donned. She brought the things over to the bed and began the process of dressing.

She preferred leather armor to other forms of protection. It was much lighter than other forms of armor. She had crafted this set herself and given it powerful enchantments, using the magicka she had learned. Additionally, it allowed her to accentuate her feminine assets and that always helped in the dealings she had with merchants and armorers around Skyrim.

Once she was dressed, she picked her bards clothing from the floor where she had shed them the previous night and neatly rolled them into the oiled leather covering. Finally, she slid on her boots and donned her gloves. She gathered her saddle packs and exited the room.

Mralki, the innkeeper of the Frostfruit Inn in Rorikstead was already up and about, as she entered the spacious taproom. "Good morning, Mralki," she said cheerfully, setting everything down by a table and taking a seat.

From behind the bar he smiled and said, "I have some hot apple cider on the coals and can make you a fine repast of eggs and bacon."

"By the Nine," Naadia said, "That would be wonderful."

He tossed the towel he was using to polish the bar on his shoulder and grabbed a tankard. Stepping from behind the bar, he walked among the tables to the large open fire in the center of the room and ladled the mug near to the brim with the steaming cider. He brought it over to Naadia's table and set it in front of her with a broad smile. She lifted it and deeply breathed in the spicy-sweet aroma of the drink, before sipping it. He then turned to the kitchen to bring her food.

A little later, as he returned with a plate of food. As he set the breakfast down Mralki said, "By the gods that was some performance you put on last night! My till is near overflowing with septims." With a laugh he finished by adding, "I'm glad the mothers took the kids home when they did. The fathers certainly appreciated it."

After eating forkful of eggs, Naadia inquired, "You didn't think I was too ... inappropriate?"

"Oh hell, no," said the innkeeper. "Of course, that's me speaking. If you asked my wonderful Hilda, she might say otherwise."

"I was concerned that the Argonian maid number was a little too ...," Naadia began.

"Dirty," finished Mralki. Motioning with his hands, he said, "All the great bards sell their songs with sex."

Naadia smiled and said, "You sound like Viarmo."

"Who's that," inquired Mralki.

"The Headmaster of the Bard's College in Solitude. He said almost the exact same thing," she answered.

"Well, there you go," finished Mralki, "Straight from the lips of the expert" and then asked, "How long have you been performing it?"

"Last night was the debut," she replied.

"Then I'm satisfied," began the Nord Innkeeper and said, "To have established the Frostfruit Inn in bardic history!"

He turned to walk away. Just then a booming roll of thunder sounded, but Naadia clearly heard, "Dovahkiin Bo," and became visibly pale.

Mralki stopped and looked up to the ceiling and said, "Oh shit! Will the rain ever end? If it doesn't stop soon we'll float away."

Composing herself, Naadia wiped her mouth and stood. "Mralki," she said, "I have some business in the area for a few days. Would you be a dear and watch my things and board my horse for me?"

She bent down and reached into one of her packs and removed a small leather pouch of gold coins and tossed it to him. "I'll be back and pick them up in a few days."

Deftly catching the bag, he weighed it in his hand and smiled. "But of course. Anything for Naadia, the Beautiful. Soon to be the most famous bard in Skyrim."

She donned her cloak and strode purposefully out the door and bounded down the steps of the inn. The hamlet of Rorikstead was just beginning to awaken for the day's business. Light rain began to pelt her, as she pulled the cowl up and over her head as she headed out of town. When she felt she was a safe distance from the town she shouted, "Wuld Nah Kest," and shot away at blinding speed.

Using the Whirlwind Sprint thu'um a few more times, placed her several miles for the rural community. Far enough away, to not frighten the locals, she thought. The Way of the Voice came in very handy from time-to-time.

She looked around to ensure no one was near. Not even a rabbit was in sight. Good she thought. She closed her eyes and centered herself. Inhaled and slowly exhaled, before speaking loudly, "Od Ah Viing! Hear my Voice and come forth. I summon you in my time of need."

She waited one minute, five minutes, ten minutes. Then in the distance to the east, she heard the roar of a dragon. In the distance coming down through the clouds was a winged shape. A dragon. His white scales almost camouflaging him in the gloom. He circled over her twice before landing near her."

He looked at her and growled, "Dovahkiin Bo Nu! Dragonborn come, you are needed."

He lowered his head toward the ground and Naadia approached. She swung a leg over his neck and took hold of his dorsal scales. Stretching his massive wings, he leapt into the sky and took flight.

With her free hand she wrapped the cloak around herself to guard against the blasts of wind and rain, as they ascended heading east, through the clouds. Few things in life worried her. Through personal study, she had learned the Dragon Tongue. The imperative words Bo - meaning come and Nu - meaning now meant her presence was immediately required atop the Throat of the World. That caused her great concern.

The Thalmor Embassy - Haafingar Hold

Justicar Aenthil Graylock was having a miserable morning. The tall Altmer glanced up from his papers to the hour glass on the corner of his desk. Once again, she was late. The Bitch, or as he was supposed to address her, Lady Elenwen, the Ambassador for the Aldmeri Dominion in Skyrim was over an hour late for their regular weekly meeting. He knew it was insubordination of the highest-degree to even think of her using that vulgar title, but he was angry. He kept his life orderly and expected that should respect that.

Angry at always having to wait. As her Chief-of-Staff, angry at always having to apologize to his subordinates on her behalf, when she was late. Lastly, he was angry at this abysmal weather. Even at Sun's Height, a thick blanket of snow and ice would cover the ground outside of his window. He was sick of Skyrim and wanted to return to Summerset Isle, never to see this place again.

He was one of the youngest senior officers in the Dominion. He was tall and good looking, with the high brows, perfectly pointed ears and regal demeanor of the High Elves. His eyes were dark and deep set and his mouth bore an almost permanent smirk - except in times such as this. He was supposed to be briefing her on the current intelligence they had received from the field and the status of the Anti-Talos campaign in Skyrim. Sadly, he chaffed at the fact he had to rotate on her axis, rather than the opposite. He had already released the senior staff, to let them at least be productive.

His musing was interrupted by a tapping on his door. He set the quill he was holding down and called, "Enter."

The door opened and one of the embassy guards entered carrying a scroll. "My Liege," the guard began, "A courier arrived at the gate bearing this message, saying it was urgent."

Graylock accepted the scroll and thanked the guard. He examined the seal as the guard quietly closed the door on his exit. His blood ran cold as he immediately recognized it. He pushed his chair back from his desk, exiting the room he almost ran down the hall, out into the courtyard and to headed to Elenwen's quarters.

The Ambassador merited her own spacious and multi-floored chalet, within the embassy's compound. He trudged to the door, ignoring the guards and entered, knowing he was likely to bring the fires of Oblivion down upon his head. Then took the stairs two and three at a time, as he ascended to the second floor. He purposefully walked down the elegantly appointed hall to the door of the ambassador's bed chamber. He pounded on the door and opened it, as a shrieking voice yelled, "Who dares disturb me!"

Aenthil stepped into the room and saw the Ambassador sit-up in bed, across the room, clutching the covers to her, to conceal her nudity. She stared daggers at him and quietly sneered, "Greylock, are you mad. I could have you killed for what you've just done. Disobeying my right to privacy is an affront I will not tolerate!"

Noticing that she wasn't the only occupant of the bed, he covered his eyes. There was a large lump on each side of her. By the Eight, she's not alone, he thought. His next thought was a single word. Shit!

"My most humble apologies, my Lady," the Justicar stammered, swallowing. Stumbling over his words, he continued, "My, my Lady. A courier ... Yes, a courier just delivered this urgent message. I recognized the seal and knew you would want to see it immediately."

"Set it on the table by the door and get the hell out of here," she screamed back at the top of her lungs.

He winced at the reprimand, as if struck by a whip and did as he was commanded. Backing out of the room, he quietly closed the door behind him. He was shaking and drenched with a cold sweat. Pulling at his robe's collar and wiping the back of his hand across his high forehead he said, "Well. At least I'm alive for the moment," and then returned to his office. He would try to make himself as microscopic as possible for the foreseeable future.

Inside her bed chamber, Elenwen was fuming. How dare that peon of a Justicar disturb her time of quiet reflection, she thought.

Beside her peeped a voice from under the bed covers, "Is it okay to come out now?"

"Yes. Yes," she said exasperated.

The covers were drawn back, and a young male and female High Elf sat up. Both were naked and well-built. The girl asked, "We're not in trouble, are we?"

"Gods no," proclaimed the ambassador. "You aren't, but someone else soon will be."

She patted the girl's cheek and kissed her on the lips. Turning to the male she said, "Ganllon, my sweet. Please fetch that scroll for me. Will you."

She watched Ganllon get out of bed and walk naked across the room. She admired his physique and how well he was endowed. She let the cover drop that were covering her breasts and the girl used a finger to trace circles around her dark-brown nipples on the golden mounds of flesh, on her chest. Gallon brought her the scroll and when she saw the seal, she snatched it from him.

"Ganllon, Loralina. Leave me. You're not in trouble. I just need some privacy to examine this message."

"Yes, my Lady," they both said. They gathered their clothes and left the room to dress outside in the hallway, before returning to their duties.

Elenwen traced a finger over the reddish-black wax of the seal and then broke it. Unrolling the vellum, she saw a message scrawled in reddish-brown. In blood and above a hand print. It was written in crude Imperial text and were three simple words - IT IS DONE. Enclosed with the scroll was a lock of chestnut brown hair.

She let the scroll roll back and tapped her chin with it. The die had been cast and the wheels had been set in motion. She needed to travel back to Cloudrest and report this development to the Council. The details were far too sensitive to be passed in writing.

She lay back on her bed and ran the scroll across her breasts, arousing her nipples and sending a pleasant shiver through her. She had suitably scared Graylock. Maybe, she could make amends by inviting him to dinner that evening and sharing with him her travel plans. She let her other hand slide beneath the cover, down her stomach and below her navel. Her fingers found her clitoris and she began to lightly massage it.

She would enjoy some quiet time to herself and then enjoy the evening with her Chief-of-Staff, mending a bridge or two over dinner, drinks and ... the thought trailed-off as she slid a forefinger into her wet love canal. She moaned in pleasure, as she fantasized about what the evening held in store for her.

High Hrothgar

Soaring above the clouds always exhilarated her. She didn't get to do it often, as using the Dragon Summons shout, required her to know the name of the dragon she was calling. Udahviing had indicated that doing so was somewhat of an imposition on him, so she tried to avoid it. She had plied him with questions regarding the summons, but he had remained silent. She wrapped herself tighter in her cloak and decided to watch Skyrim pass beneath her.

Soon the Throat of the World came into view. Tamriel's tallest mountain. Near its summit was their destination, High Hrothgar the monastery of the Greybeards, keepers of the Way of the Voice. It had been more than a year since she had last travelled there, climbing the 7,000 steps that started outside of Iverstead. Meditating on the plaques that recorded the history of how man had been blessed with the Thu'um.

Udahviing landed near the steps to the ancient structure. Naadia slid from his neck and he immediately took to the air again, flying up to the cloudy summit. Briefly, she watched him soar away into the cloud cover that hid the mountains peak and her ears heard the roar of dragons there. Many of them.

She turned and mounted the steps two at a time. She pushed open the heavy bronze door and stepped inside. As was usually the case there in the entry hall was Master Arngeir, leader of the reclusive sect. He bowed low toward her in greetings and said, "Dragonborn, thank you for coming so quickly. I fear unfriendly winds are blowing, with ill-tidings that you need to be made aware of." He directed her to the living quarters. There they sat in chairs and spoke.

The Greybeard cleared his throat and then did it again. "For once it seems, I can't find the words to begin," he said and rubbed his face with his hands. He looked at her and she noticed his haggard features. It looked as if it had been days since he had last slept.

She pulled her chair to his side and put a hand on his shoulder. "What in blazes has happened," she said aghast.

His lips quivered, and a single tear spilled from one eye and ran down his cheek. He looked her in the eye and said, "Paarthurnax is dying. He needs to speak with you about an urgent matter."

For a moment Naadia couldn't breathe. "What? How is that even possible," was all she could say.

"He's been holding-on, waiting for you. I fear he doesn't have much time left. Many of his younger brothers are there with him, keeping watch. We can speak more afterwards. Go to him."

Naadia rose and ran out the rear entrance of the monastery and up the long flight of steps that was there. Passing through the gate she followed the path to the mountain's peak. When she rounded the final bend, and stepped out onto the mountain's summit, her breath was caught in her throat. Before her were dragons of many varied sizes and shades. Most of them eyed her wearily, as she approached. She found Paarthurnax, laying on the ground at the word wall. His head slowly rose as approached.

"Drem Yol Lok. Greetings, Dovahkiin. Many days have passed since you last visited my strunmah. My mountain," he said quietly.

"Paarthurnax, Arngeir said your dying. How is that possible," she asked drawing closer to him than she had ever previously came. She reached out with a hand and touched the side of his scaly face.

"Drem," he rumbled and continued saying, "Zu'u Nid Unslaad. I am not eternal. Like everything we all die, including dovah. Dragons." He was breathing hard, as if just the effort of speaking was draining him of energy.

"Zil O'fan Sil. I wish to give to you a gift. My soul," the dragon said.

Naadia didn't know what to think. "No," she said. "I can't," she said stammering. Finishing with, "I won't kill you!"

"Drem," he rumbled. "Zu'u Nid Laan," he said, translating, "I am not asking you to take it. I will give it you."

He continued by saying "Dovahkiin Arhk Mindok. You must also know Arkay, the Great Father has also given a message for you."

Naadia was becoming overwhelmed. "Arkay has a message for me," she asked.

"Drem," Paarthurnax rumbled weakly and said, "Keizaal Jud Dilon. Skyrim's queen is dead."

It felt as if someone had sucker-punched her. All the wind in her lungs was knocked-out in shock and she sank to her knees, in the ice and snow. "What," was all she could manage.

"Paarthurnax Tiiraaz Dovahkiin," he rumbled and translated, "I mourn with you."

She cried-out in pain at the news and the mountain top was completely silent. Not even the wind seemed to be blowing. The quiet was broken by, "Zu'u Nid Laan," as Paarthurnax again asked her to accept his gift.

She stood and said, "Dovahkiin Zin Hi. I will honor your request and accept your gift."

"Drem," he said, "That is good."

Paarthurnax could barely lift his head, as he looked at her and said, "Dovahkiin Sonaan Lovaas. Sing me a song, to help me sleep."

Barely containing her tears, she closed her eyes remembering the precise words and sang softly:

Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin

Naal ok zin los vahriin

Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal

Ahrk fin norok paal graan

Fod nust hon zindro zaan

Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal

"Drem," rumbled Paarthurnax and after a moment said his final words, "Lovaas Brun Tinvaak. Sing to me in your tongue."

Tears began streaming from her eyes as she sang, slightly falsetto:

Our Hero, our Hero, claims a warrior's heart

I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes

With a Voice wielding power of the ancient Nord arts

Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes ...

With extreme effort, she was able to finish the entire song without completely breaking down in tears. Each time the words 'Dragonborn comes,' was sang the throng of dragons surrounding them rumbled, "Dovahkiin Bo." The chant becoming louder with each verse, until the mountain shook under the sound of their thu'um.

When she finished, she saw Paarthurnax, take in his last breath, hold it for a moment and then slowly exhale. Everything was momentarily silent and then as had happened many times before, the ancient dragon was bathed in a swirling light that engulfed her. This time; however, she felt as if she had been struck by a billion bolts of lightning, all at once. Raw ancient power coursed through every fiber of her being. At the same time, the dragons around her lifted their heads to the sky and cried out in one long, mournful roar. Then all was again silent.

When her vision cleared, she saw that Paarthurnax body, like other dragons she had slain had been reduced to bones. She dropped to her knees and screamed, "No!" She fell forward into the ice and snow and cried. For how long she did not know.