Support Me on Ko-fi!A/N: An actual longer fic to make up for the super super short ones from the past few days! I find the idea of cultural things not always being known to everyone a very interesting and rather amusing situation in some contexts and that idea has been bouncing around in my head since last nights history workshop which discussed (among other things) that topic...so now we get WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DIDNT KNOW WHAT THE GREYBEARDS ARE, and other fun scenarios. Enjoy :)
Prompt: Dream of ancient castle stairs
“You know, Farkas…When the ground shook and people started mentioning the greybeards summoning the dragonborn to wherever it is they live, I didn’t think too much of it…I regret that.” I tell the Nord as we stand at the beginning of the bridge that crosses the river in Iverstead. Opposite to us stands the beginning of a very very long staircase which I was recently told supposedly numbers seven thousand steps, or at least so people say according to legend. “This is exactly why I avoid getting involved in important business.” he responds as we stand there looking up at the mountaintop and back down again, over and over, trying to collect our wits and energy for what will end up being a very long hike. Apparently he also knew the location of their monastery, which happens to be at the top of one of the highest peaks in Tamriel, and simply forgot to mention it. Not surprising I suppose, after all I did forget to explain to him a rather major part of how Daggerfall is laid out when we went to visit my parents for the first time.
Not even walking five feet ahead we’re stopped by a man who usually delivers supplies to the old monks at the top of the mountain…at least I think they are technically monks. He can’t make this trip this time and since we’re on the path he asks if we’d do it in exchange for some spare coin. “Why not, we already have to go up there anyway.” I mutter to myself taking the bag and out of the corner of my eye spot Farkas seemingly trying to hide a brief smile, I think he finds my lack of enthusiasm at being some ancient Nordic prophesied thing to be rather funny. He can be the chosen one next time, see how he likes that, I already know he hates being in the spotlight as it is. With a sigh and the denying the slight impulsive urge to toss the entire bag over the bridge into the river we trudge on ahead, crossing the bridge and beginning to climb the steps.
“One. Two. Three…” I count aloud to myself once we start on the worn path adding a number each time I pass a step, might as well see if there really are seven thousand pieces of stone. “It’s a long walk to the top, and we only have so much daylight.” Farkas reminds me as he waits up ahead watching what to him must be my ridiculous behavior. He is right though, and I’d rather not be stuck on a cold snow covered mountain after dark, and as such opt to try and keep a count in my head as I run to catch up to where he waits. We manage to keep ourselves entertained chatting as we continue to walk, coming upon some wolves every now and then and more interestingly some small shrines. Farkas explains with some help from one of the visitors that they are scattered throughout the path each with their own inscription and there is a larger shrine at the mountain top. They also allow for perfectly timed breaks for snacks, or to just rest and make sure one is going in the right direction. “You’d think they would at least try and repair the steps with how much use they seem to be getting.” I point out as we attempt to navigate an area of the steps in a state of disrepair. “I don’t think the greybeards are known to be masons, Anna, they don’t exactly get out much.” Farkas jokes in reply. “Well can’t they have someone else do it? If they’re so mighty and powerful just ask the people of Iverstead to do it, it’s not like they have much else to do.” To that point he shrugs in reply and does admit that it’s true, outside of farming and a few other activities the people of the village don’t have the most exciting lives.
A little more than halfway up the mountain we encounter a very strange place on the path. At first it doesn’t look like much of anything, an overhanging bit of rock with what seems like the remnants of a wolf's den and some bones scattered about, but we quickly realize it’s not…or Farkas does, at least. Too busy thinking about other things like my next warm meal and a nap I continue to walk oblivious until I’m pulled backwards and off into a snowbank behind some rocks with a hand over my mouth. “Look at the top of the rock.” Farkas whispers, still holding me still to not draw attention to whatever he noticed and taking a closer look at where he points out I notice a large white figure. It looks like some unholy cross between some kind of deformed giant and a large furry animal. “Frost troll.” he clarifies and then looking to see my confused and somewhat scared expression adds the fact they are weak to fire. That’s good information, I like fire, and fire magic can be very successfully utilized at long range. “We have three options. 1. I draw its attention and you throw fire at it. 2. You draw its attention and I stab it or 3. We try to sneak past it and run, but they can move surprisingly quickly.” he explains as we continue to observe it, that last one seems to suggest previous experience and I make a mental note of it to ask later. What strange stories of trolls do you have Farkas, as I already know you have many other interesting tales, what are they? Uncovering my mouth he lets me speak and I make the argument for the second option, it seems to be the most logical given the weakness to fire. Having agreed on the plan we split up and I draw its attention out into the open, running a bit the other way down the mountain as it jumps off the ledge and barrels towards me, blasting it with as much firepower as I can manage while maintaining concentration. “Anytime now Farkas!” I yell as the beast continues to get ever closer, this is why I avoid going into caves and dungeons, I’m not made for combat. A few seconds later I notice a flash of movement and before I can blink a sword pierces right through the chest of the frost troll and Farkas pokes his head out from behind the body. “Perfect timing.” he grins before withdrawing the sword. Akatosh give me strength I may kill this man before the day is over. Sheathing the sword he helps me inspect the body briefly, mostly due to my own curiosity, it is a very strange creature, I wonder how it will decompose in these frigid conditions- or if it might even be preserved?
Farkas makes up for at least in my eyes less than ideal timing, though I’m sure he had his own strategy for waiting until seemingly the last minute, by wiping off a bit of the blood that had splattered which I hadn’t noticed, gives me a quick kiss and takes my hand as we continue on. Hopefully the rest of the walk is very uneventful. As the sun finishes setting we reach the final shrine and upon reading the inscription aloud a bit of magic swirls around me, I always found the parts of magic that involve the visible light spectrum to be fascinating, sometimes more than what we can’t visually observe. “3497!” I proclaim dropping the bag we’d brought from Iverstead into the large chest at the doorway to the monastery. “What?!” Farkas exclaims, thoroughly confused at the random number. “I counted the steps. There are 3497 intact ones, not 7000 of them.” I explain deadpan and Farkas laughs, burying his head in his hand and remarking that of course I would actually do that. I may not be able to do more than basic multiplication, but I do enjoy repetition, and I have a very good memory for random things.
Knocking on the metal door of the monastery I whisper a quiet “Hello? Anybody home?” not expecting anything to happen. I turn away back toward where Farkas stands looking at the aurora lost in a daze of fascination when the sound of metal scraping against stone startles me. “Ah shit! Huh?” turning back toward the door I find that it has seemingly opened on its own. What kind of weird magic using old men are these greybeards?! And why have I never heard of them and their door opening techniques before this? Farkas comes back over now having noticed the open door and we cautiously step inside, the door closing by itself as soon as we step into the isolated building. One of the greybeards greets us, or really more specifically me, and introduces each member of the strange order. The others do not speak and it is explained that their voices are too powerful for mortal men, so they take a vow of silence aside from very occasionally muttering a word to teach a student as they learn the way of the voice. The old monk, having finished with introductions, remarks that we must be tired from the journey, and arranges for rooms to be prepared for us to rest. Farkas may not need sleep to function, but I do, and I very much appreciate the offer.
Time passes slowly as we wait but eventually two rooms are prepared to an adequate level and we are left alone, the monks either going to bed or continuing their silent studies. Having cleaned up I find myself unable to sleep, the room I’d been placed in being rather drafty. Not ideal conditions for the top of a snow covered mountain in an already cold country, and so quietly I tiptoe across the hall to where they had put Farkas, who lays in bed reading quietly. They didn’t need to split us up, really, and I think they knew that, but it seems the layout of this monastery is such that there are only beds for one person. While he doesn’t physically need sleep to function, and finds it incredibly difficult to get on his own, I think Farkas appreciates the chances he gets to sleep. The rest of the time he finds other ways to keep busy while the rest of the world slumbers, outside of Vilkas and his ongoing, ever growing, pile of books to read. Silently I open and close the door to the room and pad across the stone floor, climbing into the bed and managing to wedge myself between the arm that Farkas uses to hold the book and the rest of him, curling up under the blanket perfectly content. Only when I do that does he become aware of my presence and pats my head lightly, whispers a hello, and goes back to reading. If he’ll sleep or not tonight the world may never know in such a lonely cold place, but I certainly will…and I think I’ll dream of stairs to an ancient castle stuck far up into the heavens almost among the stars.
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