“Noble aims, Yolaazov. Noble aims. But have you considered that maybe Alduin was not meant to be defeated? That maybe this world is meant to die so that the next may be born?”
No, Elisif never had. She'd never really been a philosopher, but she was going to be a queen and she was definitely sure she wasn't going to have the world end on her watch.
“Never mind the next world!” she cried. “I'm not letting my people die as long as I'm queen. Also I made a promise to the King of the Forsworn I'd get him his land back, and he is not a man you break promises to! So yes, I need to save the world, because this world isn't done yet! It's still got a story to tell. I want to know how it ends. Maybe I'll save it, maybe I won't, but the gods wouldn't have made me Dragonborn if they didn't want to give us a chance!”
“You are more afraid of this King of the Forsworn than you are my brother,” Paarthurnax said, amused. Afraid? Hah, Madanach should be so lucky. She had many feelings towards said King in Rags but she wasn't scared of him. He'd just looked so hopeful and optimistic over possibly actually getting his land back. She didn't want to disappoint him.
“No,” Elisif snapped. “He's my friend, that's all. I'd like him to have a chance to be happy.”
“A fair answer,” Paarthurnax said, nodding. “All right, Dragonborn. I will answer your question. This Shout you want, Dragonrend. Alas, I cannot teach it to you. Its words of power are not known to me – they cannot be known to me. It is a Shout created by joor, lashing out at the very essence of our souls. Our minds cannot even grasp the concepts. I cannot teach it to you... but I may know how you can find out.”
Elisif certainly hoped so. For all she'd been here for what seemed like hours, she'd not learned a lot. Erandur looked frozen, poor thing.
“How do I find out?” Elisif asked.
“All in good time,” Paarthurnax said. “Do you know why I made my home here on the Monahven, that you call the Throat of the World?”
“No,” said Elisif, rubbing her arms. “So no one else knows you're here and tries to hunt you?”
Paarthurnax did laugh at that. “No, Yolaazov. This is where Alduin was banished from, all those centuries ago. My friends, three of the Tongues of old, Gormlaith, Hakon, Felldir. The Nords had had many heroes since, but none greater.”
Hakon One-Eye, Gormlaith Golden-Hilt, Felldir the Old. Elisif knew the names, her father had told her the story. Three ancient heroes who'd defeated Alduin centuries ago – they'd lured him to battle and banished him forever using the power of the Voice, the dragons' own weapon. Except the stories hadn't said how. Now it looked like she was going to follow in their footsteps.
“They knew Dragonrend. Where from?” Maybe she could learn it from the same source.
“They invented it, Yolaazov. But that is not how they defeated him. If you can call the outcome a true defeat. Had it been, you would not be here seeking to... defeat him.”
“So how did they do it?” Elisif asked. If not using Dragonrend, how?
So Paarthurnax told her. A tale of Elder Scrolls, and how they'd used one to banish Alduin from time, creating a wound in time in the process, a wound which Elisif might be able to use to see through to the moment of its creation, and learn Dragonrend that way. Possibly. Perhaps. Assuming all went according to plan. First though she'd need an Elder Scroll.
“Where am I going to find one of those?” Elisif sighed as she made her way back down the mountain. “The only place I know is the Imperial Library in Cyrodiil, where the Moth Priests study them. But that's weeks away! Months maybe, and the passes will be closing for winter soon, if they're not already! Erandur, what do I do?”
“I'm not sure,” Erandur said thoughtfully. “But we might not have to go all the way to Cyrodiil. There might be one in Skyrim. The College of Winterhold might have one, or know where to look. And if they don't... Elisif, this is a little unorthodox but I used to know this woman. She helped me when I first left Nightcaller Temple, looked after me, pointed me in the direction of the Benevolence of Mara. Only... she's... well... not exactly an Aedra worshipper. She's a Dunmer, like me.”
Re: The Wolf Queen Awakens 20.5
No, Elisif never had. She'd never really been a philosopher, but she was going to be a queen and she was definitely sure she wasn't going to have the world end on her watch.
“Never mind the next world!” she cried. “I'm not letting my people die as long as I'm queen. Also I made a promise to the King of the Forsworn I'd get him his land back, and he is not a man you break promises to! So yes, I need to save the world, because this world isn't done yet! It's still got a story to tell. I want to know how it ends. Maybe I'll save it, maybe I won't, but the gods wouldn't have made me Dragonborn if they didn't want to give us a chance!”
“You are more afraid of this King of the Forsworn than you are my brother,” Paarthurnax said, amused. Afraid? Hah, Madanach should be so lucky. She had many feelings towards said King in Rags but she wasn't scared of him. He'd just looked so hopeful and optimistic over possibly actually getting his land back. She didn't want to disappoint him.
“No,” Elisif snapped. “He's my friend, that's all. I'd like him to have a chance to be happy.”
“A fair answer,” Paarthurnax said, nodding. “All right, Dragonborn. I will answer your question. This Shout you want, Dragonrend. Alas, I cannot teach it to you. Its words of power are not known to me – they cannot be known to me. It is a Shout created by joor, lashing out at the very essence of our souls. Our minds cannot even grasp the concepts. I cannot teach it to you... but I may know how you can find out.”
Elisif certainly hoped so. For all she'd been here for what seemed like hours, she'd not learned a lot. Erandur looked frozen, poor thing.
“How do I find out?” Elisif asked.
“All in good time,” Paarthurnax said. “Do you know why I made my home here on the Monahven, that you call the Throat of the World?”
“No,” said Elisif, rubbing her arms. “So no one else knows you're here and tries to hunt you?”
Paarthurnax did laugh at that. “No, Yolaazov. This is where Alduin was banished from, all those centuries ago. My friends, three of the Tongues of old, Gormlaith, Hakon, Felldir. The Nords had had many heroes since, but none greater.”
Hakon One-Eye, Gormlaith Golden-Hilt, Felldir the Old. Elisif knew the names, her father had told her the story. Three ancient heroes who'd defeated Alduin centuries ago – they'd lured him to battle and banished him forever using the power of the Voice, the dragons' own weapon. Except the stories hadn't said how. Now it looked like she was going to follow in their footsteps.
“They knew Dragonrend. Where from?” Maybe she could learn it from the same source.
“They invented it, Yolaazov. But that is not how they defeated him. If you can call the outcome a true defeat. Had it been, you would not be here seeking to... defeat him.”
“So how did they do it?” Elisif asked. If not using Dragonrend, how?
So Paarthurnax told her. A tale of Elder Scrolls, and how they'd used one to banish Alduin from time, creating a wound in time in the process, a wound which Elisif might be able to use to see through to the moment of its creation, and learn Dragonrend that way. Possibly. Perhaps. Assuming all went according to plan. First though she'd need an Elder Scroll.
“Where am I going to find one of those?” Elisif sighed as she made her way back down the mountain. “The only place I know is the Imperial Library in Cyrodiil, where the Moth Priests study them. But that's weeks away! Months maybe, and the passes will be closing for winter soon, if they're not already! Erandur, what do I do?”
“I'm not sure,” Erandur said thoughtfully. “But we might not have to go all the way to Cyrodiil. There might be one in Skyrim. The College of Winterhold might have one, or know where to look. And if they don't... Elisif, this is a little unorthodox but I used to know this woman. She helped me when I first left Nightcaller Temple, looked after me, pointed me in the direction of the Benevolence of Mara. Only... she's... well... not exactly an Aedra worshipper. She's a Dunmer, like me.”