The climb to High Hrothgar was awful for Amelia, but not because of the cold or winds. In an ancient altercation, she had been crippled in the left leg, and even with a Dwemer-construction assisting her walking, it was tiresome to hike for long periods.

The higher elevation didn't help either--and with the air as thin as it was, she found herself stopping every ten minutes just to catch her breath. She did have access to a floating spell, but she decided not to use it due to the nature of the winds. This was demonstrated by using the magic on a small rock, quickly picked up and tossed off the mountain by the wind itself.

So, floating was out.

However, they had finally reached the top, and while she was caked in frost from her sweat, Amelia could not find a more welcome sight than High Hrothgar.

"BY THE EIGHT, finally..." she wheezed as she shakily leaned against the Nord, "I will... huff... not take this hike again! Wheeze... even if I were destined to be Dragonborn and... huff... summoned by the Greybeards! You will leave me in Ivarstead or... or even back in Whiteun if you plan on coming back..."

As a Nord, Jegnorr was more acclimated to the cold. Of course, that didn’t mean he was immune to it. The Nord was exhausted, and the lowering temperatures the further up they climbed had made him extraordinarily cold. Even Odin and Ahkrin were cold, though between fur and reptilian blood, they were less bothered by it than the two humanoids were. But Jegnorr wasn’t so easy to show it as the Falmer was.

“I should be able to memorise the way in future. Your escort has been most appreciated, Lady Gafdein” he responded politely, unable to hide the light smirk that crossed his features. He was grateful that she had chosen to join him, despite the inconvenience to her. And it had led to her gaining another poor, lost soul for her ranks. So it wasn’t a total wash for her. “But just think. How many people do you think have actually found reason to enter High Hrothgar, and see the monastery from within?” he added, trying to lighten up the mood as he trudged forwards through the snow until the large doors were upon them. “Aside from the old man, who knows how long it has been since an outsider entered these walls?”

“An outsider, indeed.”

They had just stepped in when they were stopped by a very, very old man in a pair of robes. That beard was definitely grey. And very large. Guess that's how they got the name.

"What beseeches you to enter our forbidden sanctum-"

Odin would pick that moment to shake the snow and water out of his fur, drenching the lot of them. Ahkrin, peering at Odin, then proceeded to imitate the canine. To slightly less wet results. The Greybeard's brows shot straight up.

"What in Oblivion have you brought here?"

Jegnorr blinked a few times, but then motioned to Ahkrin.

"Oh uh, this is Ahkrinkalzin. I call him Ahkrin for short."

"You hatched a dragon."

"Yes?"

"And you named it in its own tongue."

"Yup."

"And you then shortened it."

"Uhh yeah."

"Who even ARE you two?"

They were clearly weighing on the Greybeard's patience very fast. His tone didn't make Ahkrin happy either, as the dragon promptly hissed at the decrepit geezer. Jegnorr snapped his fingers at Ahkrin. "Ahkrin, no. Bad dovah."

Ahkrin made a few grumbling noises before backing off, to the old man's continued vexed confusion. Jegnorr remembered his manners and bowed his head.

"Of course, forgive me. I am Jegnorr Scaleblade, and this is the lady Amelia Gafdein. We are of the Companions guild. I was sent here by Odfel Brightvane to train in the way of the Voice."

"Did you just say Odfel?"

"Uhh-"

The very air appeared to thin and the ground began to shake as though effected by the Greybeard's emotion.

"That fool. Deceived us into teaching him the Way of the Voice, with promises of staying to study and join our ranks in the interests of worshipping the gods as the Voice should be used. Instead he takes his teachings and he runs, likely to misuse them just as Ulfric did. And he truly expects us to teach one sent by him? What matter of prank is this? If that is your idea of a joke, then leave this place. Either way, we will not train anyone except for the dovah with you. You may leave him here, and leave. And never bother us again."

Well, this was a problem, wasn't it? Jegnorr was a little taken aback. He knew the Greybeards were stubborn and set in their ways, based off the stories. But the fact Odfel's name had apparently only made the situation worse? That was... Well, that was definitely unexpected. And now they expected him to just leave Ahkrin here and go? Nah uh. Not happening. Still, Jegnorr kept his calm as he cleared his throat.

"I was sent to train because Whiterun is in danger of the returning dragons. We need the Voice if we are to protect our people. Surely you can understand our situation?"

"We are aware the dragons have returned. But the affairs of men are not our concern."

Hm.

The Snow Elf's eyes narrowed at the Tongue who stopped them within the monastery's vestibule. Odin's shaking prompted her to raise her sleeve up to block anything from hitting her face.

The Greybeards were a rather cold group from first impressions alone, but not more than what could have been anticipated. They were strict practitioners of the Way of the Voice, and given its power, it made sense that they would keep their secret Words to themselves... notwithstanding their rather pacifist way of life.

Amelia drew toward Jegnorr's side, placed a hand on his arm, and cast a pleading gaze fixed on the Greybeard who spoke with them. "Please, sir, we have ventured on this pilgrimage to comprehend the profundity of the Way of the Voice, not leave Ahkrinkalzin behind. The Thu'um aside, I am fluent in dov-tinvaak, and the child was christened by words I have determined."

Her voice picked up a slight edge with the furrow of her brow.

"... Ergo, if you were to separate Ahkrin from us by force, it is as if you are abducting him from beneath the wings of his parents. However, if you want us to leave, then you will have to Shout us off of the mountain itself--then again, that is not quite the stance that Jurgen the Calm had determined for his disciple's descendants, is it?"

Amelia’s words only seemed to make the furrow in the old man’s forehead grow even more. She was right, of course. Attacking them with the Voice went against the creed of the Greybeards established by Jurgen Windcaller. Yet, when he spoke, it was with a steady calm.

“You are correct. And if you do hold knowledge of the Voice, perhaps you would make a worthwhile addition to our number, lady Gafdein. But I can see in your eyes what many may not see. And that is the lust of revenge. You would flee this place with our teachings to use our ways of worship for violence, just as the boy would. Thus, you too, cannot remain. But while we cannot remove you by force… We can persuade you to leave.”

Three other Greybeards entered the hall. They did not speak, but it was as though the world trembled with each breath they took.

“These men do not speak unless it is for worship of our Way. For each word they speak can be dangerous to a man’s mind. It is not something the mortal man can handle at length. If you will not leave though, I will have to ask them to ask you to leave.”

Jegnorr made a face in irritation. So they were going to utilise the Voice to make them leave willingly. Cruel, but crafty, he had to admit. But just as the other men raised their tongues to speak, something came to him. He would hand the letter that Odfel gave him to the old man. "Odfel said that if I gave you this letter, it would explain everything" he brought up. He hadn't actually read it. That was impolite. While this only seemed to annoy the old man further, he took the letter regardless and began to read it quietly.


The tremors only grew stronger as the letter crinkled and cracked in the old man's hands. Through gritted teeth, he seethed out only a few words.

"That damned Odfel..."

The Greybeard looked at Jegnorr and Amelia with a look of clear disdain, before he held out a hand to call off his compatriots.

"Very well. We will continue your education here. Keep in mind this will not be an easy task. You will spend many days here. The Thu'um is not something learned in a matter of hours. You will have to dedicate your life to mastering it."

Amelia's eyes widened from the Tongue's observations, shaken to the core by the mere mention of the word she loved... and hated.

He... he could see it?

It was not something Amelia had thought to temper--in fact, that was what drove her forward. It was what caused her cold, undead heart to beat.

Revenge.

She temporarily satisfied this by bringing justice to those who harbored the unrepentant practice of Molag's way. That fire seethed and burned for thousands of years... and to be denied entrance because of that?

Amelia was at a loss for words. In no way would she use force herself to get her way here. Raising a hand against one who could teach her new things was beyond her ever-fleeting moral compass.

The Snow Elf steadied her breaths as three more Tongues came into the room--and the power of their very presence began to leak, shaking the ground.

The Thu'um was a power that shifted the world, which changed Skyrim's course and many others, but even before then, it was simply the language of the dragons, those called the sons and daughters of Akatosh. Those who once wrought fear and destruction by merely speaking...

And these men, masters of that Voice, were simply there to persuade them to leave.

It was not a sensation Amelia wanted to experience firsthand, and for the briefest moment, she desired to run...

Instead, she clung ever closer to her comrade in arms, perhaps to steady herself as the three Tongues prepared to speak.

Then--

"Odfel said that if I gave you this letter, it would explain everything."

So spoke Jegnorr.

Amelia's gaze turned toward him in disbelief.

... Meyye! You should've started with that...

Upon reading the letter, the old monk's hands wrinkled the parchment in his hands. A hint of concern shown on Amelia's brow.

... What on earth did Odfel write?!

Even so, he would grant them that look that Amelia happened to relish in, and would dismiss the other Tongues.

"Very well. We will continue your education here. Keep in mind this will not be an easy task. You will spend many days here. The Thu'um is not something learned in a matter of hours. You will have to dedicate your life to mastering it."

Amelia's countenance brightened.

Time was no issue for her--although she worried a little that the beard of her friend would grey as well as time marched on.

He would have started with that, if he’d been given the chance. But they’d been put on the defensive so fast that the idea had been wrest from him for a time. Luckily, he had managed to remember in time. Though he was still a bit concerned about what exactly it was that Odfel had written… Whatever it had been, had clearly angered the Greybeard. And yet, it had gained them entrance.

The other Greybeards also appeared puzzled as to why they were stopped. The first man would show them the letter then. And that was when Jegnorr and Amelia were nearly blown out the doors as one of them spoke. And not just spoke, yelled. If Amelia had the knowledge, she may well recognize a curse word in the dragon’s tongue. Yes, Odfel’s words had put them in a position where they had to abide by Odfel’s wishes, or suffer the consequences. For Odfel may have left the Greybeards, but he still knew them very well. And he had weaponized their very pride against them.

Jegnorr meanwhile was a little concerned when it was said it would take time. There wasn’t a lot of time before a dragon, or assassins, could strike at the world below. But Odfel had hopefully taken this into account. The Greybeards led them into the main chambers, and each took their place before the first began to speak.

“The Thu’um, as you know, is the language of the dovah, or dragon in your tongue. Each word they speak, when comprehended to their fullest, can yield untold power. A fiery debate between two dovah could very well destroy an entire country in its wake if they are powerful enough. We men were given a gift by the gods of the use of this power, and we in turn misused it. While Tiber Septim and those else called Dragonborn had the right to wield the Voice, just as any dragon does, for a man to misuse it is an act of blasphemy. Our forefather, Jurgen Windcaller realised that the gods were displeased with how we men had misused their gifts, and had cursed us for it. The Greybeards were formed in the interests of using the Voice for its intended purpose by man – and that is in the worship of the gods. Yet, it has continued to be misused. Our most recent failure being that of Ulfric Stormcloak, a student of ours. Ulfric Stormcloak used the gifts of the gods to render defenceless and strike down High King Torygg in means dishonourable even for martial combat. His lust for power blinded him, and he went on to kill thousands with the gifts that we bequeathed upon him.”

The speaking Greybeard looked over Jegnorr a moment.

“Your stance reminds me much of the last student we took, being young Odfel. Like Ulfric, he came to learn our ways. But in time, he grew too concerned with the politics and conflict of the world below. He too, took our teachings and left. We feared he may well become a source of terror that will bring the judgement of the gods upon us, just as Ulfric had. But in you, I do not sense the corruption that plagued Ulfric and his men the day that Ulfric returned to us as a leader and conqueror. Which tells me that young Odfel has not become what we had feared. You, because of him, are a blank slate. And one with the ability to raise this young dovah as well. A tale I ask you regale us with, when there is time. While I know I cannot stop you from using these gifts for martial combat, there is something we learned after Ulfric left us. And that is that while men can easily become corrupted by the use of these gifts in martial combat… It is not a guarantee. That is a lesson that was given to us by the legendary Dragonborn. He who saved not a nation, not one’s self interests, but all of Tamriel. Like you, he had the eyes of an uncorrupted clean slate. Who came not for power, but because of our summons. So long as you retain that purity… Perhaps we will be more inclined to train you.”

He looked at Ahkrin, who was busy trying to scratch behind his ears.

“And if you’re willing to share your knowledge in order to teach the young dovah. It would bring us great comfort to know that a purpose of your training is ensuring that one who should be able to learn it, is able to.”

Jegnorr scratched his head at all of this, but otherwise just politely nodded along.

“Point being, the Voice is not a tool to be used for conquest and selfish gain. It is not to be used in pursuit of power. The Dragonborn used it to protect Tamriel… And in doing so, acted of the will of the gods. Do not allow yourself to misuse this gift, for if the gods were to be enraged once more… We may well be faced with untold calamity. And you may lose more than you stand to gain, as did Jurgen Windcaller. And as did Ulfric Stormcloak.”

Jegnorr took a deep breath. Boy, they were laying this great responsibility thing on thick, weren’t they? “I will do my best to abide by these tenants, venerable Greybeards” Jegnorr spoke up. “My Harbinger, and a man I consider as my own father, has only used this Thu’um when it is needed. I will try to abide by his example.”

The Greybeard quirked a brow at that, then turned to Amelia. “Now. You said that you know some of the dovah tongue? How much do you know? I recall mention that it was you who named Ahkrinkalzin.”

Amelia had held on tightly to the Nord as the force of the Tongue's curse word pushed them back.

... Tch! My skin is crawling, and my heart is pounding! To think he would use such a scandalous word to such effect!

Despite their grievances against Odfel, the Greybeards seemed to have found comfort in the fact that he did not become like the man Ulfric Stormcloak, who used the Thu'um for his gain.

The tale they shared was familiar to Amelia. According to Nordic history, Jurgen Windcaller had founded the Greybeards in the First Era following his failure to subdue Morrowind in the Battle of Red Mountain.

It was now the Fourth Era, a hundred years after the emergence of the Last Dragonborn. Amelia, in her hibernation, had slept through the Second and Third. She recalled in the past hearing the news of Jurgen turning to pacificism after his defeat... and beyond reading upon the doctrines of the Greybeards at the library (and from Odfel's witness), she would never think that this was the fruit of his sowing.

Amelia's fingers restlessly twisted as she listened, soaking in the history these men had shared with them, along with their teaching. However, the meat of the matter was that the Thu'um was not to be abused for worldly passions like Jurgen and Ulfric had done, lest the wrath of the gods falls upon them.

... But my foe is worthy of their wrath... and more.

Amelia's head lifted as she was addressed. "... Ah, yes, but it is not that I know some words..." She cleared her throat and spoke thus, "... Mindok los dii daan (Knowledge is my doom), nuz zu'u lost nid suleyk voth dii rok (but I have no power with my words)."

The room would not shake, not even quiver, just the ordinary gust of wind whistling in from the outside.

"My learning up until now has been superficial," she further explained, "Knowing the existence of these words, using them in sentences, but not truly comprehending any profound meaning behind them. Books were my teachers, and while they contained much knowledge, their depth cannot be expounded upon so easily."

Amelia glanced to Jegnorr, then fixated her gaze on the Greybeard.

"... For your sakes, I will be straight with my intentions. My lust of revenge you spoke of is not without cause, nor is it something petty like seeking power."

She tilted her head down to look at the man past her brow and allowed the chill of her voice to set the record directly.

"I seek ultimate retribution against the Daedric Prince of Domination."

The Greybeards appeared puzzled when Amelia spoke of her subject for revenge. They exchanged looks for a moment, communicating in their own way. Then the first turned to once again speak for them.

“This may be true. But did Ulfric not seek revenge for Torygg’s allegiance to the Empire when he used the thu’um to kill him in cold blood? We may only hear of the world’s events from time to time when our couriers provide us with the occasional information and books, but we are aware of what Ulfric did, in the names of vengeance and justice against what he deemed to be more than petty revenge. We know not what dealings you would have with a Daedric Prince, but your matter still appears to be purely a personal one.”

They looked towards Jegnorr a moment. “Of course, we are not blind to the idea that all who act for the greater good do so with the foundations of personal gain in mind. Every hero Tamriel has had, has done so with at least some vested interest. Even our learnings come from a personal desire to be close with and please the gods. The boy here, is easy enough to tell he has a personal interest in protecting something, not just acting in the stead of the gods. Judging by the insignia on this letter, I would assume that he wishes to protect Whiterun from these dragons, no?”

Jegnorr slowly nodded his head in agreement.

“In this one, I feel no rage. There is strong passions, convictions and a steadfast desire to protect something. Meaning at the least, Odfel has not entirely forgotten the Way of the Voice by sending this boy and making sure that no matter what, he would be trained.”

He looked to Amelia once more.

“But you… You explicitly seek revenge for a wrong, and do not shy from this fact. I can feel the rage bottled up within you. It reminds us much of our leader, who once came here with a heart filled with rage, but was eventually able to let go. Perhaps it is not too late for you, but… Your deciding to make this known brings into question your intentions. We already agreed to train the boy, but what are your true intentions of being here, child of the snow? I had figured perhaps you intended to use your knowledge to help the boy, but is your true goal perhaps to learn the Thu’um yourself, in hopes of using it against Molag Baal?”

In of herself, Amelia knew she was not worthy of learning the Thu'um by their standards. She knew that she was more than likely to turn back and go back down the mountain this entire trip.

"I..."

It was all personal. There was no denying it. Amelia was here for selfish reasons, and if Molag was watching, he must be laughing at the futility of her quest.

However, if there were one thing they would at least know, it was that.

"You've looked into my eyes, speaker of the Tongues, and heard my reasons for coming, but you cannot easily understand a woman's sorrow of becoming a Daughter of Coldharbour without ever wanting it."

Her eyes tightened shut, "It is a debasing process, and an even worse consequence. You do not know the terrors that descend on me every night, where every dream is a nightmare, every memory blotted by tragedy..." She placed a hand on her face and slightly hunched forward, "... To be deemed incurable by priests of Arkay... doomed to live an eternity on the plane of Nirn, but fearing that death will bring me back to the halls of that daedric prince..."

Her body began to shake as sorrow swelled in her chest.

"... You all... you are all destined to Sovngarde. That is one thing I know. You will all pass on into the halls of Shor... relish with long lost friends and seasoned warriors..."

Then, tears began to fall, her voice filled with grief.

"I... I too, hoped to regain fellowship with my family in the lofty realm of the Auri-El... to see them again after years of separation, but my lot was cast to Coldharbour without my will. Today, I stand before you without my own soul, an anomaly between the plain of Nirn and Oblivion, destined to become Molag's plaything for as long as he desires."

She wiped her tears upon her sleeves and straightened her back.

"... Still, it will be a long, long while until I can fulfill my wishes... and I have all of my miserable immortal life to bear the strength and courage to face him on my own. Until that time, I aid Jegnorr in his pursuit to protect Whiterun, Skyrim, and her good people in hopes I can find kinship with Auri-El once again."

With that, Amelia offered a polite bow toward the Greybeards.

"... I... thank you for hearing me." And to Jegnorr, "I... suppose I will meet you back at Whiterun."

There was a long pause. Jegnorr bit his lip as he heard it all. It was not entirely new information, but it was a new frame and in a way that showed the inside of her heart. “Odin, go with her” Jegnorr spoke softly. Odin stared up at Jegnorr with a whine. Odin had expressed itself to be intelligent before, for a beast, though Jegnorr made sure to use gestures as well to ensure Odin understood the command. Jegnorr scratched behind Odin’s ears. “I will meet you in Whiterun when I am finished here, but I would prefer if Amelia had company on her way back. It is a long way back, after all. I won’t be too long.”

While seemingly hesitant, the command appeared to be recognized and Odin looked to Amelia in turn. For all the selfishness of her quest though, the Greybeards at least seemed to recognize the sincerity of her words. They looked to one another a moment, before the speaker would clear his throat.

“I am no fool, child of winter. You look at the eyes of the one standing before you, and you do not see what I do. Perhaps not yet, anyway. The last two that I laid my eyes upon who held eyes like this, had a very particular habit. I can tell just looking at this one that he is of a similar kind. And he just proved my theory. Young Jegnorr, you have no intentions of allowing the Lady Gafdein to undertake her quest against a daedric prince on her own, do you?”

Jegnorr scratched his head, a bit taken aback by the question, but after a moment, he slowly shook his head. “No, sirs. And if that displeases you, you have my apologies. Amelia is my Shield-Sibling, and I swore an oath to fight her battles with her, whatever they may be. Furthermore, she is someone who has been wronged. If there is a way to right that wrong, I will fight what battles are necessary. Even if they take me into the domain of Molag Baal himself.”

“And you intend to use the Thu’um for this, don’t you?”

“If it comes to it, yes. I will not hesitate to use what I have at my disposal to protect my Shield-Siblings. To not do so would be to forsake my vows, and defile my warrior’s honor as a Nord. As Nords yourselves, I would hope you understand this at least a little.”

Another long pause. After a few moments, the Greybeard actually laughed! Shaking his head, the stuffy old Greybeard for once couldn’t hold in his laughter.

“You’re just like him. And you’re just like Odfel. Neither had any thought besides helping when someone is in need of aid. Perhaps your arrival here is fated as well.”

He looked to Amelia.

“Very well. If, miss Gafdein, your intentions are to aid Jegnorr in his pursuits. Far be it from us to stop you. There is no stopping him from taking our teachings and helping your cause, so we may as well provide you an opportunity to help one another. You are free to remain here with Jegnorr for as long as you so wish, and utilize your knowledge of the dovah tongue in order to help him and Ahkrinkalzin to understand it. Even with our aid, they will need all the help that they can get.”

Amelia raised her head, and her pinkish eyes began to water once again.

Jegnorr, you...

Until now, she hadn’t conceived the thought that anyone would desire to help her. She was sure that her quest was too outlandish and vain for any mortal to join for any reason.

How dare she forget? The devotion of Shield-Siblings was like that of family, and while she has yet to comprehend it fully, she knew there would be no separating from it. As the descendants of the Five Hundred led by Talos of Atmora, they held a sacred bond that transcended time.

Of the things she had willed to do, it was to become a Companion and experience their fellowship, and here, she had the choice to pursue learning the Thu’um and assist in the teaching of her cohorts.

This was not an opportunity she would refuse.

Amelia clasped her fingers together, then bowed her head reverently to the Greybeards.

“I have pledged to myself that I will spare no expense to aide my Companions in their endeavors,” she said, “My knowledge is to be shared for the sake of their growth, for theirs is a good cause that transcends my own. I will do my best to aid your teaching and consider your ways more deeply.”

Once again, she raised herself.

“Besides, I am not so foolish as to rush for my goals. I’ve spent thousands of years in isolation, experimenting and failing to find a means to combat Molag, and I can wait a thousand more if it would grant me the perfect chance to strike.” Amelia displayed a grin, “It is not as if I know how to march into Coldharbour from Tamriel either, and even if I did, I am currently no match for that Daedric Prince, even with those who agreed to my assist my cause. He is just that powerful.”

Although it briefly called into question: how did she and her charge get there in the first place…?

… That was a question for another time.

“For now, until the moment arises, I will bide my time and endeavor to bring long-lasting peace that even you, O Greybeards, can enjoy for ages to come.”

Amelia pinched her chin as the lesson began.

The Speaker's word for Jegnorr to learn was 'Ro,' as written in ancient Dragonish in the ground.

The Snow Elf knelt and traced her fingers along the edges of the letters.

According to them, 'Fus' was the first word of the shout, which meant 'force' in Tamrielic, while this one, Ro, meant...

"Balance. That is the direct translation of 'Ro,' pronounced similarly to the word 'row,' the action of using an oar to move a boat," she said as she furrowed her brows, "However, consider the connotation. In the sense of the first word, 'Fus,' which is 'Force,' you intend to... let's say, use effort to impose your will upon something. Introducing 'Ro' into the phrase means that you wish to force 'balance' of something..." Her head raised, "... Ah, ergo, the nature of the phrase is to force things off balance. Do also consider that while I may understand to some degree the terms of 'Fus,' I have not blown anyone over in speaking it."

She turned her head to the Speaker, "I would therefore surmise that true understanding of a Word of Power, on top of understanding its depth and meaning, and along with having intentions to manifest the word, would allow the speaker of the word unlock its power? Oh--" she waved her hands shyly, "I don't mean to undermine your teachings with my summary. Just throwing stones into the dark, here."