Knock Knock: DAY 6

Silence.

Rach knocked again. It left a bit of blood on the immensely heavy carved slab of a door. Behind him, The blue-furred khajiit, the armored nord houscarl, and the Bosmer bard said nothing, but gave each other sideways glances.

The argonian put his fist against the door again. Then leaned his scaly head on it. Closing his eyes. He heaved three ragged breaths and then yelled against the door.

"Let me IN you old snowbiters! I didn't climb seven deadra-cursed THOUSAND steps for you to ignore me!"

"Maybe they died." Lydia suggested quietly.

"Or napping? Who knows how old they are, " Inigo said, "but with the name 'greybeards' one presumes they aren't exactly youthful."

Rach pounded the door again, to very little effect. Stone was not made to carry knockings very effectively. Rach shoved on the door. It didn't budge. He turned away, muttering, seeking something to bash against the door.

"Stupid klimmek and his stupid SUPPLIES and his stupid... wolves?! WOLVES?! And WATCH YOUR STEP?!? Right right, because the path is icy, right, so I should watch my step going up the seven thousand stupid steps because it's not like there are TWO TROLLS on the way, no no, that would be RIDICULOUS. And Of course he probably forgot about the trolls... and the ICE WRAITH..." He was rooting around now in the large chest where he'd placed the supplies when he got to the top. He noticed now that there were about half a dozen other bundles of supplies, mostly frozen and dried up to in-edible mummified biscuits that once were cheese and meat. He grew even more insensate.

Still his companions stayed back. Rach was still bleeding in several places from the fights, and the edges of his armor were still smoldering. He grabbed a small red vial, a healing potion from the offering pile to the Greybeards and chugged it without hesitating or slowing down, then pitched the bottle behind him, nearly hitting Lydia.

"... no no, he probably forgot about the TROLLS and the WRAITHS because he was distracted by the BLOODY DRAGON he also FORGOT TO MENTION!!"

The Argonian finally found what he was looking for.

"PERFECT." He reached down behind the chest and pulled out an antique mining pick. "Knock? You want me to knock and SCREAM MY LUNGS OUT you dirty old bastards? Well I'll show you HOW I KNOCK!!!"

Inigo stepped forward, not getting too close to the steamed lizard.

"I'm sure you don't need to break down the door, there must be a knocker somewhere."

"Oh a KNOCKER?! Don't worry, Inigo, I just FOUND THE KNOCKER and now I'm going to KNOCK THE DOOR TO BITS!"

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Actually..." the bosmer bard added, tapping into her own reservoir of ancient knowledge, "High Hrothgar is said to predate the Empire but thousands of years. I don't think they used knockers, but they were, well, Tongues, so they probably..."

* CRACK *

Inigo and Lydia winced as Rach brought the pick down against the stone door with both hands. The pick snapped. Rach took several slow breaths as he trembled with rage.

"Dragonborn..." Astra said gently, "this was built by people who specialized in shouting... maybe if you..."

"FUS!" With a blast of wind and energy, Rach threw himself back from the door, stumbling but keeping his balance. He growled at it. "FUS! FUS! Bloody daedra-damned FUS!"

Finally, there was stirring from a high window on a tower inside the complex. An old man stuck his face out., his long beard hanging down well below the window sill.

"Bugger off!" He shouted.

Rach, not to be trifled with, threw a clawed finger and pointed at the old nord.

"YOU Bugger off! We climbed the damned steps, now LET US IN!"

"And who do you think YOU are?" The old man hollered. "This is High Hrothgar! No one enters without the summons of the Greybeards!"

Rach changed colors, nearly apoplectic.

"WE... WE HAVE A SUMMONS! YOU SUMMONED ME! I"M THE WINGC.... Damnit. THE DRAGONBORN!"

"No you're not."

"Wh...what... YES I AM! LOOK! FUS!"

"Oh whoop-de-doo! So you can shout one little word! Anyone can shout one little word!"

"I ATE a Dragon's soul, how about THAT!? Huh? And then there was this big shouting sound coming from THIS mountain, and everyone said I was being summoned, so maybe if I wasn't being summoned and I climbed up this mountain FOR HOURS fighting ALL SORTS OF HORRIBLE THINGS and all of it was FOR NOTHING then you OLD BASTARDS NEED TO WORK ON YOUR LINES OF COMMUNICATION!"

There was a silence in return. The old man's face disappeared. A minute passed as Rach glared daggers through the empty window. Inigo saunted up to the unyielding stone doors to scrutinize them further. Finally the old man's face returned.

"Oh, yes. Sorry about that. I was having a nap and I didn't hear the summons when my brothers sent it out. Looks like we did summon you. Welcome to High Hrothgar, Dragonborn!"

Rach continued glaring at the now-smiling old monk. He took several deep breaths to compose himself and said in a painfully restrained manner, through his teeth.

"I don't suppose, you would see fit to let me into your fine temple here."

"It's really more of a monastery."

A vein pulsed on Rach's head.

"Could you, by chance, allow us to enter your fine MONASTERY HERE!?"

"Oh yes, of course, just come right on in. It's not locked."

"Not.... not locked. NOT locked? NOT BLOODY LOCKED!"

"Ermm... Rach, my friend?"

Rach's attention snapped down to his Khajiit companion. Inigo was smiling sheepishly, having pulled the great door slightly ajar.

Rach inhaled deeply and Lydia plugged her ears.

And thus, after a mighty journey, and a war of words between the Dragonborn and the Greybeards, shouting as the dragons themselves, sending force and fury through thin and frigid air, rattling the very walls of the ancient monastery and the shivering slopes of the Throat of the World... thus did the Dragonborn who called himself Wingcutter, finally arrive at the place he was destined to be, High Hrothgar.

Down below, Rach's final cry of anguish and wrath released only a small avalanche upon the village of Riverwood, and almost no one was killed. R.I.P. Sven.