Skyrim: New tales of the Dragonborn

”Tell us about it, what happened?” One of the guards spoke.

The one being asked was wounded, but not lethally, as he was standing and seemed fine if one only looked at his face.

“Yeah, we heard you were there when that dragon attacked.” Another one, sitting on the only chair in the room noted.

The wounded soldier cleared his throat.

“I was on patrol, well, a rather odd patrol. I was tasked by the Jarl himself to walk to the closest burial mound. Once there, I decided to take a short rest, so I sat down at the edge of the grave’s outer circle.”

He paused and paced around, scratching his chin.

“Well come on, we others got to go soon, guard duty and what not.” The youngest one said hurriedly.

“I heard flapping. Only one thing makes that sound so loudly, so I got up and hid somewhere between the close-by trees. When I looked up, I saw a big black dragon. It spoke, in the dragon’s tongue, and the grave started to give off an odd light. After a moment, the soil and rocks covering the bones of the buried dragon flew into the air, as if a bomb had been buried there. Then, the bones of the dragon was one, and they moved. While skin and organs and flesh began to… “come back” on the revived dragon, the two spoke. I couldn’t understand a thing, but out of nowhere this warrior suddenly appeared.”

He paused again and sat down on his bed.

“A dragon coming back to life?”

“Yes, but the warrior didn’t do nothing about it. The black dragon, the one that scared me in the first place, spoke to the warrior, in our own tongue. It said, “It’s a shame you don’t understand our own language. And yet you call yourself Dovakhiin.” The warrior then spoke, and it wasn’t until now I noticed it was a woman. She spoke, loud a clearly, a Thu’um, causing the black dragon to be pushed back by force alone. She then said, “Alduin, you will not win!” With a laugh, the second dragon, now fully recovered, spoke in the dragon’s tongue and the black dragon – referred to as Alduin by the warrior – flew away. Then the battle began.”

“But what about the attack?” One of the bearded guards asked.

“Their battle led to the city, which is where they also finished their fight. And, like all people of our city, I hated elves. And she was one. I sat and watched in hide, as the dragons very own soul was absorbed by the woman. I didn’t care that she was a Dragonborn, she was an elf after all. So I attacked her, along with three other soldiers. She slaughtered the three others within seconds, with a Thu’um, magic and sword. I on the other hand, was only knocked down to the ground once I was alone. She stepped toward me, picked me up as if I was merely a child and pressed me up against the wall. It was now I got to see her in detail. Yellow eyes, a sharp face with a scar below her left eye, yellow-blonde hair… and actually, I calmed down just by the look of her.”

“Huh, why?” The one with a golden armor asked with a laugh.

“She reminded me of my dead wife.” The "storyteller" spat back.  “Also, she was beautiful, in a way I can’t tell with words. It was as if she glowed. She reminded me of the tales of those unimaginable beautiful elves that once lived in forests everywhere. She spoke to me, with a much calmer voice than when she fought the dragon and us. She said to me as she let me go, “I don’t like to kill those who have nothing to do with my business. I know you have a hatred for elves, it is in your blood, but I am not fighting against you. If I was fighting against you, I would’ve waited until the dragon had destroyed everything, and then killed it. So until next time, mention to the others that I bear no hate, and I will protect this people if they just respect me as a normal person.” She paused and looked around, looking at the scared faces surrounding us at the time. She continued, “Where can I find the second closest burial mound?” I answered as best as I could, and she walked out of the city as if nothing had happened.”

A silence hung in the air for a long time, then a door was opened and several other guards stepped in, laughing.

“What’s so funny?” The one in golden armor asked as he pulled on his helmet.

“That the woman, the so called Dragonborn came back, with a gift to our Jarl.”

“You don’t know what she said to the surviving guard? The Jarl does, and that makes it not funny.”

“Well then, what did she say?”

“Hear his tale, the wounded one. He’s in his room with two others. See you around, duty calls.”

The new guards looked at each other, shrugged and walked to the wounded soldier’s room to hear his tale, the tale of the Dragonborn who killed a dragon single-handedly. Only one of many tales…