#Arngeir

[uesp]

Pictured: The three highest leveled beings in The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim.

3) Miraak (minimum level is 35, but maximum level is 150)

2) Arngeir (level 150)

1) Magic Anomaly (maximum level 65,534)

#UESP #Lore #The Elder Scrolls #Skyrim #Dragonborn #Miraak #Arngeir #Magic Anomaly

[macabre-changeling]

it is pride month dragonborn

#skyrim #greybeards #arngeir #dragonborn #oc: Llileth damiilu #my art

[ehlnofay]

The Dragonborn does not speak at the council, for all the trouble she went to arranging it.

She sits in a straight-backed chair at the head of the table, her sword in its scabbard resting against the stone. (She was the only one permitted to carry a weapon into the assembly.) Lydia, her sharp-faced housecarl, is seated to her left.

It’s the Dragonborn’s council, for all intents and purposes – it may not have been her idea, but it was she who petitioned for it, persuading Arngeir and then the war-leaders and the dignitaries they dragged with them. It was for her sake alone (Dragonborn, Ysmir, legend come to life) that some agreed to attend at all.

But when the council finally begins, kings and warriors crowded around the long stone table, she is silent. An argument begins immediately, Ulfric objecting to Thalmor presence within the negotiations and Tullius objecting to his objection, and it splinters off into something thorny and onerous. It takes half an hour for discussion to begin properly – and then someone says something and they’re off again, everyone around the table coiled tight and wary, and the Dragonborn stares into the middle distance and offers no thoughts.

It doesn’t stop, the talk of trading holds like game pieces and demands that the armies’ leaders be compensated for massacres that never touched them. Arngeir tries to quiet them, and Esbern’s desperate passion riles them up, and when half of the room has leapt to its feet and voices echo off High Hrothgar’s sacred, watching stones, the Dragonborn finally speaks –

Which is to say, she claps her hands over her ears and spits a Word that rips the voices from their lips and the room is finally, mercifully silent.

Her housecarl, the only one who does not seem startled by this, places a hand on the back of her chair and says, “Thane?”

The Dragonborn uncurls, removes her hands from her head, lays them flat on the table.

“I don’t understand,” she says, slow, as though the words are weighed down. She isn’t looking into the middle distance; her eyes shift from face to face like she is trying to meet everyone’s gaze at once.

Galmar Stone-fist, standing by a chair to her right, claws at his fur-lined collar. “We have –”

“Let the Dragonborn speak,” Lydia interrupts, voice and eyes steely. Galmar’s face twists, but he falls silent.

The Dragonborn presses her hands into the stone tabletop.

“Do you believe,” she says, “that the dragons will leave your side alone?”

On the other side of the table, General Tullius raises a sceptical brow. He leans back into his chair. “If you have a point, then make it. We don’t have time for more nonsense.”

Her eyes snap to him. Lydia repeats, “Let her speak.”

The Dragonborn holds up a hand.

“Do you believe,” she enunciates carefully, “that the dragons care anything for your war? None of this matters.”

“On the contrary –”

“Alduin will tear your cities down,” she tells them. Her eyes are eerie dark as holes too deep to track, and even her housecarl is staring at her now. “Only I can stop it. Until you get out of my way, you are fighting over rubble.”

There is, again, silence. Arngeir is visibly thankful for the reprieve; High Hrothgar’s walls, unused as they are to such uproar, can once again, if briefly, know peace.

Ulfric stood up sometime in the yelling; he has not sat back down. He is leaning a little on the stone back of his chair as he says, “You called us here in hopes of a ceasefire, Dragonborn. Truces aren’t made of empty air. Terms have to be negotiated.”

The Dragonborn stares him down. Her palms remain flat on the table; her sword stays resting against her chair.

“But you aren’t negotiating with him,” she says, the words still heavy, still slow. “You’re negotiating terms with me.”

There is a pause. The watchful stones soak in the silence.

“With you,” the Legate replies.

The Dragonborn’s face is blank. “If you truce, I will fight Alduin.” She speaks the weighed-down words as though they are the most natural thing in the world. “If you don’t, I won’t. Your cities will fall as Helgen, and you will die afraid. Those are my terms.”

Lydia places a hand, palm up, on the table. The Dragonborn covers it with her own, mimicking the pose of the wrist, the splay of the fingers.

“Now,” the Dragonborn announces, her voice a laggard echo of Arngeir’s opening speech, “who would like to begin the negotiations?”

(There is no shouting during the rest of the peace council.)

#the rest of the council consists of the dragonborn just repeating the same thing over and over #browbeating skyrim's most powerful political players into doing what she wants by not giving an inch. icon #also I'm going to name this piece a song lyric bc a) the lyric partly inspired it and b) I do what I want #anyway. hope you enjoy it! #oc tag #dragonborn #skyrim #the elder scrolls #my writing #fay writes #tes #microfic #lydia #arngeir #ulfric stormcloak #general tullius #legate rikke #galmar stone fist #esbern #(too many gotdamn characters in here) #season unending #tesblr #FUN FACT: this piece is 777 words #a delightful coincidence

[jiubilant]

AND. if I may be so bold. 46 for Ayo <3

46. shimmer

"You are an exception to our order's every stricture, Dragonborn," says Arngeir in farewell, handing her his own stout walking-stick. "Your power, your Voice, is a gift from the gods. So long as you use it in service to their purposes, you cannot stray from the Way."

His pupil of two months shoulders her traveling-pack. She's young, Arngeir thinks, watching her straighten beneath its weight: not so young as his last student, who had come to him in childhood with three wolfskins on his back, but new. Untried. She looks at him with a strange, belligerent eagerness, her face a sun half-eclipsed.

"How should I know," she says, her smile like the shimmer on the snow, "how the gods wish me to use my Voice?"

"For tutelage in the Way, you climbed this mountain." Arngeir does not smile back. "For the answer to that question, you must climb down again."

The Dragonborn, accustomed to such answers, makes a rueful face. She kneels to him in the way of her far folk, her knees crunching in the snow—then springs up to kiss his cheek, heedless of her burdens, in a way that is only her own.

"I'll return with Jurgen's horn," she promises, then grins. "And more parsnips for Borri's stew."

Breath and focus, Arngeir reminds himself, and does not grimace. "No more parsnips."

"Ripe cloudberries!"

"They'll be more than ripe," says Arngeir, "by the time you bring them back—"

"Honey, sadonvum," says the Dragonborn, walking backwards, "for your tea!"

Her housecarl, dressed for travel and waiting with dogged patience at path's edge, catches her before she can fall down the Seven Thousand Steps. At the sound of the Dragonborn's laugh, the wind that knifes through High Hrothgar stills, then swirls up the snow of the forecourt in a delighted dance.

Not even then does Arngeir smile. He watches his pupil of two months, not long enough to learn a single tenet of the Way, start down the mountain—a tempest of his tutelage, like the one who had shattered Markarth with his thu'um.

Behind him, the door of his monastery scrapes. Someone tugs his sleeve: Borri, who has always, since they were boys, walked through snow with a hart's silent tread.

I do not think that one, he signs with ancient hands, will Shout High Kings apart.

"No," Arngeir agrees, his troubled eyes lingering on the Steps. "No. But what will she do?"

* * *

The Dragonborn does a cartwheel in the first open field she meets, or tries to; her pack overbalances her, and she flops into the heather with a whoop.

"The sun!" she says in greeting, and basks in the warm grass. A vole dashes across her hand. She beams at it, half-drunk on freedom and the sweet lowland air, and hails it in the tongue of voles and dragons: "Lok vah, malfahdon!"

Lydia prods her with a foot. "My Thane, we have leagues to travel today—"

The Dragonborn grins and yanks her legs out from under her. The wrestling-match that ensues is brief and unheroic: they crash through the heather, startling a family of grouse, and then Lydia is sitting on the Dragonborn's chest.

"Don't be cross," she laughs, seeing the look on her housecarl's face. "Aren't you glad to be gone from that mountain?"

"Yes, my Thane," says Lydia with utmost patience, breathing hard, "but—"

"No more parsnips!"

Lydia's stubborn scowl wobbles.

"No more parsnips," she concedes, and ducks her head to hide a smile.

Her hair tickles the Dragonborn's nose. Something tugs in her chest, as though a lock of it has snarled around her heart.

"Look," she says, smiling. "Everything listens, down here. Not like those lazy mountain stones." She stretches her arm across the sunlit grass, cupping her hand in invitation. "Malfahdon!"

The heather rustles. The grass parts. The vole, quivering with terror or joy, crawls obligingly into her palm.

[send me a number, and i'll write a microfic using the word or phrase!]

#<3 #skyrim #microfic #arngeir #lydia #oc tag #ayo

[philtothehill]

"A very civilized and peaceful truce discussion during season unending, High Hrothgar."

#skyrim #general tullius #ulfric stormcloak #Arngeir #skyrim memes #i feel like shit

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Elenwen: Hey, the Imperial delegation is not going anywhere without me!

Master Arngeir: No, indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you, even when they are summoned to a special meeting and you are not.

#con: elenwen as sam; pro: arngeir as elrond #this is the price #elenwen #aldmeri dominion #thalmor embassy #Arngeir #greybeards #high hrothgar #season unending #imperial legion #nerevar queue and star #incorrect quotes #incorrect elder scrolls #incorrect skyrim quotes #tes #the elder scrolls #skyrim #the elder scrolls v: skyrim #source: the lord of the rings

[dredgen-dope]

#arngeir skyrim #skyrim #the elder scrolls #arngeir #greybeards #high hrothgar #gandalf big naturals #arngeir big naturals #dovahkiin #dragonborn #when the dragonborn cums

[incorrectskyrimquotes]

[Season Unending]

Dragonborn: I thought you said I was a respected third party?

Arngeir: No, no. I said you were a neutral third party. No one here respects you.

[Submitted by @slightly-stable]

#skyrim #incorrect quotes #submission #dragonborn #arngeir

[isamajor]

"They are not yet tired of war. Far from it. Do you know the ancient Nord word for war? "Season unending"... so it has proved."

#skyrim #elenwen #General Tullius #elisif the fair #legate rikke #delphine skyrim #arngeir #ulfric stormcloak #galmar stone fist #esbern #balgruuf the greater

[ego-osbourne]

Your Name

Some Ego-flavored existential crisis for you on this fine evening, perhaps?

Not too linear of a story, just some ideas that got thrown around

Summary: Ego doesn’t know who tf they are or who they wanna be and sometimes that’s just how life works

#dovahkiin #last dragonborn #arngeir #Miraak #paarthurnax #ego #ldb #greybeard #dragon priest #first dragonborn #dragon #tes #tesblr #tesv #Skyrim #the elder scrolls #elder scrolls #fic #fanfic #Breton #atmoran #my art #the dez illusion #tdi

[helgiafterdark]

#x #skyrim screencaps #skyrim screenshots #skyrim #tesv #skyrim scenery #the greybeards #greybeards #arngeir #wulfgar #einarth #borri #dovahzul #high hrothgar

[sylvienerevarine]

Arngeir:

LDB:

#skyrim #tes #arngeir #30 rock

[thecharacterquotes]

#skyrim #greybeards #Arngeir #elder scrolls #oblivion #morrowind #quotes #gaming quotes

[snowberry-crostata]

While I’m riding this train of thought, have some some additional headcanons about languages and accents for various characters!

Gytha (my OC) has a strong Nordic accent. While she grew up traveling northern Tamriel with merchant caravans, her primary caregiver was an elderly Nord woman from the Pale with a strong accent and Gytha picked up most of her pronunciations from her. Her speech is also sprinkled through with turns of phrase (and some more… colorful language) picked up from sailors and seafaring merchants. She is most comfortable speaking Nordic, but also speaks Cyrodiilic fluently (albeit with a noticeable accent), and can get by in High Rock with Bretic-Cyrod pidgin. All of the words she knows in Ta'agra are swears.

Ulfric learned to speak in Eastmarch, which is known for having one of the stronger Nord accents, but he left home at a young age to study with the Greybeards. For many years the only person he regularly talked with was Arngeir, who himself has a strong Nordic accent (having grown up in a time when speaking Cyrodiilic was far less common in Skyrim than it is now). Argneir and Ulfric actually have quite similar accents because of this, and it’s why Ulfric’s accent is somewhat different from other Eastmarchers. His education at High Hrothgar included instruction in Cyrodiilic and Dovahzul. One little-known fact is that he’s actually quite good at picking up languages, something which came in handy during his days in the Imperial Legion. He can currently speak Nordic, Cyrodiilic, Dovahzul, Bretic, and passable Yoku.

Elisif speaks primarily Cyrodiilic. She had a Haafingar accent as a child, but it was trained out of her at a young age and replaced with an upper-crust Nibenese way of speaking. Technically, she knows how to speak Nordic but all the business of the Haafingar court, and most of the business in Solitude, has been conducted in Cyrodiilic since she was a child so she is rather rusty. Due to Solitude’s proximity to Jehenna and the amount of trade between the two cities, she was also taught to speak Bretic and continues to speak it fluently. She is one of the relatively few Nords in Skyrim who speaks any Altmeris.

Ralof and Gerdur are good examples of the rural central-Skyrim (White Plains) accent. It is notable for having a very bouncy, rolling, or “galloping” cadence.

#language #headcanons #ulfric stormcloak #elisif the fair #oc: gytha #Ralof #Gerdur #Arngeir #my stuff #character headcanons

[somefuckingguysblog]

found out christopher plummings not only va'd 1 from 9, but he alsp va'd Arngeir

im gonna draw 1 as Arngeir

#skyrim #the elder scrolls skyrim #tes skyrim #arngeir akyrim #arngeir #9 movie #shane ackers 9 #1 (9) #idk when ill draw him i just know ill do it #oli talks

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Master Arngeir, having to deal with the Imperials, Stormcloaks, Thalmor, and Blades inside High Hrothgar: Sorry, everyone, I was talking aloud to myself. A habit of the old: They choose the wisest person present to speak to.

#honestly though #arngeir #greybeards #high hrothgar #season unending #nerevar queue and star #incorrect quotes #incorrect elder scrolls #incorrect skyrim quotes #tes #the elder scrolls #skyrim #the elder scrolls v: skyrim #source: the lord of the rings