The icy wind blasted me the moment I stepped up to the archway. I refastened my cloak around my neck and donned my hood. The storm raged, throwing snow and ice all around. Without my Shout, I would never reach the summit.

"Dovahkiin," said a voice behind me. I turned to see Arngeir standing there, his hands folded into the sleeves of his robes. "Do not make this journey in fury, for the mountain will test your inner peace."

I sighed and turned away. "I know, Master. Now, let me go."

"Sky above, Voice within, Dovahkiin."

I swallowed, feeling the power of the Thu'um rising within me. My blood rushed through my veins, power flowed through my body, and the Shout bubbled into my throat, ready to be released.

Dragon soul burning, I opened my mouth and allowed it to go free. "Lok, vah KOOR!"

The storm stopped almost instantaneously. Snow now drifted calmly to the ground, and not even a breeze ruffled my hair and cloak.

"Farewell, Master," I said just before taking my first step forward.

I made my careful way up the mountainside, using my Clear Skies Shout whenever the way would become blocked again. It was a slow process, made even slower by the ice wraiths that swooped down to attack me. My adventuring days—or so I had thought—were behind me, and the fight with the quick little wraiths took a lot out of me.

By the time I reached the summit, my joints were freezing, my sword arm was aching, and the ends of my hair were turning to icicles. But I had made it, and it was time to seek guidance from a very old friend.

I stepped forward, into the sight of the two dragons. Odahviing perched on a rock close to the edge of the snowy clearing, his burning gaze locked on me. The elder dragon, Parthurnaax, sat on his Word Wall, old, scaly face placid and eyes calm. It was a friendly face, one I had missed.

"Drem Yol Lok, Dovahkiin," said Parthurnaax as I approached his perch. "It has been many a year since we last spoke."

"Drem Yol Lok, my dovah friend," I said with a low bow. "I wish that I had come on different terms. I need your help."

"Hmm, yes." He crawled off the Word Wall and instead came to rest in front of me. His snout was only inches from my face; his breath was scalding against my windburned cheeks

"You seek guidance, Dovahkiin? Is that why you have come to my mountain?"

"Yes. Below, the world is in chaos. The Aldmeri Dominion is cracking down on the Nords, forcing them to renounce their god or be executed. They are slaughtering them in droves. If someone doesn't do something, there won't be any humans left in this land. I have taken action; I am in contact with both Ulfric Stormcloak and General Rikke of the Imperial Legion. I am trying to unite them in this fight, so that we may once and for all take back our home."

"That is a noble cause, Dovahkiin, but is war what you really want?"

"It is the only option, it seems. If we do not have war, innocent blood will stain this land for centuries to come."

Parthurnaax pulled his head up, no longer sitting inches from me. Instead, he sat on his haunches and looked down at me. I could almost feel his gaze scorching through me, searching for my true intentions.

Finally, he sighed, his head drooping to my level again. "Your heart, as always, Dovahkiin, is pure. Your soul is strong and it burns with love, not hunger. Do you believe this is the proper action to be taken? Do you believe war is the only option?"

"I do, Parthurnaax. I do not want it, but I do not want to see the same elves who killed my parents make more orphans of this land's children."

"Then I believe that you are right, but go with caution. I urge you to be careful with Ulfric. Do not allow him to use his influence to regain power. Do not let him become High King."

His eyes became softer, much like a teacher's. "Listen to me, young one. You are but a little dovah; your knowledge of battle is limited, and you have never led an army. You must be careful, and you must rely on others to guide you. Do not allow them to influence you; guard your heart and mind from their honeyed words, but do not ignore all advice from those you trust. A good leader listens, and a good leader accepts help when it is given. Do not be proud, but instead be humble."

I offered him a low bow. "I will take these words and hold them in my heart, great dragon. I thank you for your counsel."

Parthurnaax ducked his own head. "It is my place to instruct and to guide mortals, young one."

"Come, Dovahkiin," said Odahviing as Parthurnaax and I straightened. "I will carry you down the mountain."

"Thank you, old friend."

I bid farewell to Parthurnaax as I climbed between two of Odahviing's neck spikes. I grasped the one in front of me as his wings unfurled. He raised his head, taking me with him, and flapped his massive wings. We lifted into the air with just one wing beat, and flew higher with more.

"Take me back to the monastery!" I shouted over the wind. "I left my horse there!"

"As you wish, Dovahkiin, but I do not understand how you can stand to ride such beasts after flying in the air as your kin do."

"I don't have a choice, do I?"

He rumbled deep in his throat, the sound vibrating through his scales. It sounded like his version of a laugh. "Perhaps you do not, Dovahkiin, but any time you call my name, I am obligated to help in any way I can."

"And that includes flying a retired adventurer around Tamriel, does it?"

He rumbled again, making a smile break on my face.

We landed in the courtyard, startling Master Arngeir out of his meditations.  The glare on his face went away after a moment, switching to a look of forced serenity. Like he was trying very hard to ignore us.

I slid off Odahviing's neck and gave it a pat. "Thank you, my friend."

He blew a cloud of warm breath over me, warming me up and thawing my frozen hair. "Safe travels home, Dovahkiin. The roads are not to be tread lightly."

"Wind guide you, my dovah brother."

"And sky guard you, little sister."

I watched as he beat his wings and rose high into the sky. The snow kicked up, swirling around the courtyard for a few minutes, then it was gone.

Looking from the sky, I turned to Master Arngeir. "I take my leave, Master. It's time for me to return."

He refused to look at me, face twitching into a scowl. "Yes, Dragonborn. Go now."

Stung, I spun on my heel and stalked back to the monastery. With my blood still stirring with irritation, I had no trouble shoving the heavy doors open. I didn't bother to shake the excess snow from my hair or cloak when I stepped in, letting it drip off me into small puddles.

I had to admit, my attitude was not the best, but I was upset at the Greybeards. I thought they were going to help me. Instead, they called me into their mountain just to tell me to stay off it. Couldn't they have done that with a letter?

Although, no courier would ever dare venture this high up the mountain.

Poor Kes looked particularly miffed as I approached him. His flank was covered in snow, and he kept shaking out his mane. He, like me, preferred the temperate lands of Whiterun, it seemed.

"I know, I know," I said to him as I mounted. I stroked my hand down his cold neck as I turned him away from the monastery. "Ready to go home? I know. I am, too."

He shook his mane one last time before setting off at an easy walk down the steps. His hooves clip-clopped against the old stone in a steady, soothing rhythm.

"You miss them, don't you? You miss Jergen and Embla and Vilkas." I ran one hand over his silky mane, letting the hair slide between my fingers. Kes bobbed his head and let out a gentle nicker.

I allowed myself a little smile. "Let's get home, Kes. I miss them, too."