I don't ask much of Faendal. He is an archer, and he is there in the thick of it whenever he is needed. Clearly he sees me as a friend, but after the last time, I'm not prepared to go that far with him just yet. I don't think I can take another betrayal so soon.
Whiterun is a grey old town, built on top of a hill. Water seems to be flowing out of all manner of grates and springs in the ground. Chatting with the first man I come to, he lets me know that the town is based around two families. Both of them are feuding for some reason or other, maybe due to taking different sides with the Imperial invasion - I'm not sure, I didn't really listen.
I continue my journey up the hill, towards the main building in Whiterun. It is a luscious villa, replete with carvings, rugs and fruit bowls. As I walk towards what I assume to be the king, I am approached by a dark elf, sword in hand. She informs me that she is the "Jarl's" chosen bodyguard, Jarl obviously meaning King in these cold climes. All it takes is for me to say that I have some important news, and she lets me past - great bodyguard my bottom.
The Jarl doesn't seem too perturbed by the presence of my impressive muscle-form, nor by the weedy elf standing to my side. He is interested in my stories of dragons though, and thanks for despite the doom-and-gloom. Then he sends me to his wizard. For a second, I think that he's going to conduct horrible experiments on me. Instead, he asks if I can go and find a stone at Bleak Barrows. I arch my eyebrows, and reach into my knapsack - "This one?" I asks, producing a large piece of carved stone from the canvas. He looked genuinely pleased, I swear he was hiding tears. This is what I do it all for, not money or glory, just helping people.
Faendal and I make our way into the large hall once more, only to be told that another dragon has been sighted just outside the city walls. So naturally, putting all sanity and fear aside, we run into the wet weather with a host of guards to locate the flying beast. We find it near a watch tower, and it is making a mess of the area. The guards are hammering the thing, while Faendal plows flight after flight of arrows into its wings. Eventually it falls to my hand, a broad stroke to the neck. The creature falls, and bizarrely begins to turn to flame, its skin ash in the wind. I begin to feel a bit funny, the wind picks up. Apparently I've absorbed the dragon's soul…
Someone, I'm not sure who (come on, I've just absorbed a dragon soul), jabbers on about the legends of dragonborn. He says for me to try shouting. I think "I'll give him a shout…" and let out an almighty boom. People stumble at the blast of sound, and I myself feel quite shakened by the experience. "You are dragonborn!" they cry. This may be true, I have no memory of my actual mother.
And then there is a calling, as if from the gods themselves. What is that? No one seems certain, though all are in agreement that I should head back to Whiterun to speak with the Jarl.
Its all a bit much to absorb. We wander for a bit instead, to try to make some sense of it all. Rather than the quiet jaunt I needed, we find ourselves in the midst of an imperial vs. bandit fight. An imperial prisoner asks to be cut loose - without consideration for the political or social implications, he cut his bound wrists. To my surprise, he runs off to beat up the imperial soldiers. If he'd survived, I would have made him my son, but soon he lies in a pile of his own tomatoes. The imperial soldiers and bandits both seem unhappy that I've intervened in their little turf war, and turn on me and Faendal. Naturally, we explode into action and kill each of the factions in turn. Looking out of the hillside, its all a bit of a mess - blood, guts and bodies are like litter.
The bandits seemed to have found a home in a mine cut into the hill, and there are pieces of mammoth everywhere. Someone in Whiterun had asked me to grab a mammoth tusk on my travels, so I pocket the first stub of ivory I find. There are also large quantities of iron laying about. Where did they come from? The mine of course. I grab a pick axe and start to mine more of the ore for myself. Faendal just watches as I pick at the then vein of ore. The bandits seem to have some form of rudimentary smelting operation going on, so I put lump after lump of the iron into it to fashion some iron ingots. Surely these will have use with my smithing.
Of course, my pack is quite full now with the various bits I've accumulated on my travails. Back to Whiterun for some barter I think!
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