A dragon . . . a real, breathing fire, flying dragon.
And I killed it.
If my family were here right now, they would be turning inside out at the thought of me going out to fight an actual dragon.
I woke this morning, ate, drank, stretched. It was a new day, and I was back within the safety of Whiterun’s walls. I returned to Dragonsreach and met with Farengar, who told me that he was doing research and learned of an ancient stone tablet that held all the locations of ancient dragon burial sites.
Just like the one I had retrieved from Bleak Falls Barrow. Farengar was so ecstatic that I found it. The excitement faded to fear as Irileth came bolting up the steps, shouting that a dragon was attacking the western watchtower just outside of Whiterun.
Jarl Balgruuf asked me to help his men kill the dragon, since I had done so much for Farengar. I don’t know a thing about killing a dragon, but he seemed rather confident in me, so I followed Irileth and her men to the tower.
It wasn’t long before the beast showed up, breathing a fiery rage over the remaining survivors. He wasn’t black or as fearsome as the one from Helgen, but he was bigger than the mammoths I had seen in the fields.
He didn’t stand much of a chance between Irileth’s magic, my bow, and several other soldiers’ arrows. Within an hour, we had him on the ground . . . when something . . . familiar and strange happened. I absorbed a similar kind of power from the dragon as I had done in Bleak Falls Barrow. The guards were telling me something about being “Dragonborn.”
When I returned to Whiterun, I told Jarl Balgruuf of the events that transpired at the tower. He was very much surprised at my mention of being Dragonborn. He allowed me to demonstrate my Thu’um (or Shout) within the palace.
I’m still amazed myself at my newfound ability. It’s been a lot of information to digest in a day, so I think I’ll return home tomorrow. I still don’t understand why I would be Dragonborn. What does this mean? What do I do now?