The Chronicles of Allimir...The Dowry of Fuerrta
Prologue
Pain, blinding pain...Allimir winced but made no sound, he'd learnt from many years of physical and mental torture how to deal with pain. One side of his lip curled in response to the white hot Brindle Spine making contact with the centre of his forehead. This pain was something he was willing and proud to endure. The smell of burning skin filled his nostrils, his own skin, it was something he'd smelt before but unlike his brothers this was only the third time.
Allimir was a Bosmer, a Wood Elf, a proud, strong and deeply ritualistic race. The ceremony he was enduring was Krillmoor, an acceptance ritual, acceptance by another.
Fuerrta looked on as her father continued to scar Allimir, her steely, unemotional gaze hiding her elation as he accepted her mark.
In The Beginning
Lorinesta screamed, the pain cutting through her like an elvish sword. Brewlom sat bolt upright, startled.
"What is it my love?" he shouted
"It's time" Lorinesta forced from her grimacing lips.
Brewlom and Lorinesta had been bonded in the eyes of Yffre for 15 years; this would be their third child. Tecar and Nefor had come along in the early years of their bonding, two boys now aged 13 and 14, fine examples of Bosmer, Olive skinned, lean in stature with wiry muscular bodies. Both experts in the way of the bow, hunt and thievery, in fact Tecar had bettered archers several years his senior before his 8th year. Marks of acceptance already adorned their young bodies both had been through many Krillmoor rituals. Marks burned in to their smooth young skin from many friends, loved ones and clan elders.
Krillmoor was a way of life in Valenwood, performed by the clan leader, its importance paramount in the minds of all Bosmer. These scars signified acceptance, love and respect by other members of the clan. Performed at the base of **Falinesti on a full moon, each nominated Bosmer would receive their honour. Anyone could nominate, no reason was needed but would usually come after an act of bravery or mastery. None could refuse a mark, to do so would mean exile.
Lorinesta let out another scream, the pain enveloping her as she fought off unconsciousness. "Calm my love," Brewlom gently spoke while stroking Lorinesta's hair. "not long now."
As their new child entered the world Lorinesta finally succumb to pain and exhaustion, as she lost consciousness she heard Brewlom scream. "NO...IT CAN'T BE...NOOOOOOO!"
**A walking city of the Bosmer King, built within a giant Oak tree, now rooted for several years.
The Aberration
Glancing off the side of his face, the jagged rock cut deeply in to his cheek. Allimir looked round lazily as if unaffected by the attack. Tecar stood laughing "got him again Nefor, your turn" Nefor drew his arm back, rock in hand poised to strike but before he could a calm, commanding voice whispered in his ear "Throw that and I'll cut your throat where you stand and leave your body to be consumed by Skeevers." Nefor felt a blade against his neck. "You need to be more aware of your surroundings" the voice whispered again. Nefor dropped the rock and spun round. "Fuerrta!"
"Have you two nothing better to do than amuse yourselves with Allimir's misery?"
"That's his purpose scoffed Tecar, filthy Enalluh!"
Enalluh was a name given to one with the mark of the stranger. Enalluh were extremely pale of skin, distinguishable by a scar that ran horizontally across the face through the afflicted's mouth. At birth the scar was a gaping wound that was left to heal naturally, making the first months of the newborn's life extremely harrowing. Probably a genetic failing the Bosmer viewed these children as aberrations, abominations and outcasts. Although the Bosmer did not exile them, they did make their lives a living hell, with jeers, taunt's, slavery and regular beatings. Many had died over the years from their treatment and it was expected that Enalluh had a much shorter lifespan than other Bosmer. Ritual was also denied the Enalluh, Bosmer are religiously carnivorous holding plant life above all creatures, cannibalism is also practiced to honour a defeated enemy or fallen treasured one. Although Enalluh were permitted to consume their defeated enemies, they were thought not worthy to do so of their family.
Allimir was such; his brothers now 24 and 25 had mistreated and taken pleasure in making him the object of their torture the whole of his short life. Although still young, Allimir had developed immunity to this treatment, able to withstand tremendous amounts of pain and mental anguish. On his 6th birthday Allimirs eldest brother, Tecar had lured him to the highest branches of Fallinesti with the promise of a gift, only to push him to what should have been his death. Allimir broke a leg, both arms and several ribs but although being left to tend his own wounds, not one tear escaped him. In his 9th year Allimir, who had only gained one mark of Krillmoor, performed the ritual on himself, branding his mark of acceptance next to the one given by his mother. This was mocked by all but a few in his clan as meaningless as having not been performed by the clan leader or nominated by another, but to a few and most importantly Allimir, this was the moment he gave himself worth, regardless of what others thought.
Fuerrta, daughter of Trinnital, clan leader of Halindune or Middle Branches was born 2 years before Allimir. She had been instructed by the masters in all matters of Bosmer and despite her age was thought to have no equal in stealth, making her a formidable hunter. Unusually tall and slender in stature her Olive skin giving off an almost pearlescent glow Allimir gazed upon her young beauty. "Are you alright?" Fuerrta questioned, touching the wound on his face.
Allimir turned away embarrassed and shocked, but Fuerrta grabbed his arm "No..there's no need for you to leave."
Allimir turned to face her "why did you help me?
"I've watched those bullies torment you all of your life, now is the time for them to stop, everyone has worth, even an Enallhu." Fuerrta smiled at Allimir and released his arm. "Now go...don't you have stables to clean?"
Allimir walked away, confused and elated, this was not the first but was one of few times he'd been treated with kindness. Looking back he would remember this day as the day his life began.
A Meeting of Souls
The arrow flew silently towards its target; the Wolf felt no pain as it died instantly, arrow in eye it fell from the precipice to the woodland floor below.
"Not bad Enallhu," chirped Fuerrta smiling "Pity you lost your arrow!" she jokingly chastised, shaking her head. "How many times must I..." She was cut short by Allimir's lips upon her own. She signed with pleasure giving in to his interruption.
"You talk too much," whispered Allimir. He grabbed Fuerrta's arms twisting her body and forcing her to the ground.
10 years had passed since their first encounter, Allimir and Fuerrta had become firm childhood friends, inseparable, much to Fuerrta's father, Trinnital's dismay. "You dishonour your family," he would preach. "That Enallhu is a disgrace."
"That Enallhu has more honour in his little finger than many of our bravest hunters," Fuerrta would reply.
Fuerrta had made good on her statement to Allimir that it was time his brothers stopped tormenting him and had kept him from harm ever since. Wherever Allimir went Fuerrta was there to foil Tecar and Nefor's attempts. In Allimir's 15th year Nefor had tried to push him from the mill while he was collecting flour. Before he had chance Fuerrta had shot an arrow, clipping Nefor's ear. He'd run yelping and bleeding, cursing Fuerrta, but cursing was all he could do, being the Clan leaders daughter, Fuerrta was known to be untouchable, death would befall any who attempted to harm her. Fuerrta had also passed on all of her training and knowledge to Allimir, so as he grew older and more experienced in the Bosmer ways, any attempts by his brothers to do him harm were foiled or avoided. This infuriated Tecar in particular as he was looked upon as Hallindune's champion and destined to bond with the Clan leader's daughter Fuerrta.
Friendship between Allimir and Fuerrta soon blossomed in to romance, Allimir falling for her beauty and kindness and Fuerrta, for Allimir's humility, bravery and loyalty.
Allimir held Fuerta close to his body, able to hear her gentle breathing and loving heartbeat. "Today would have been my Father's day of birth," Allimir spoke wistfully. Soon after Allimir was born, his father had mysteriously disappeared. Some thought he had succumbed to the hunt, but many blamed the birth of his Enalluh son. Whispers spread of how he had left for the wilderness of SKYRIM to take his own life.
"Im sorry," Fuerrta spoke softly, touching Allimir's face with her hand.
"How do you think he died?" Allimir asked.
"Speculation is pointless and damaging," she said. "Whatever the reason, you are not to blame." Fuerrta kissed Allimir lovingly and pulled him closer.
"Soon will be the day of your dowry," said Allimir, turning away from Fuerrta to distance himself from the hurt. "How will I bear seeing you with another? Maybe even Tecar?"
"I refuse to be bonded with that moron," Fuerrta stated angrily.
"You'll have no choice if he returns with your dowry before the others"
"Then I will run away with you, and we shall live in the cold lands of Skyrim where know one will ever find us," declared Fuerrta.
Allimir laughed, seeing the determination in Fuerrta's eyes.
"I'm glad you find me amusing," said Fuerrta, pushing Allimir playfully away.
"There may be another solution," Fuerta said thoughtfully. "What if I can convince my father to allow you to compete for my dowry?"
"impossible!" Allimir said. "No Enalluh has ever been allowed to compete before."
"I've never know you to admit defeat to anything Allimir. Quickly, put on your clothes, we have much to do."
In His Fathers Footsteps
The Darkness was all enveloping, Allimir stood for a moment hoping his eyes would adjust to this place of miserable dejection. Hi ears ached from the silence, his nose filled with the stench of rotting flesh, this place was truly dead, a place were no other living thing would dared to venture.
Allimir fumbled on, arms outstretched, hands searching, hoping to find some purchase. "Woahh," Allimir yelled as his foot twisted sending him to the dank floor below. As he groped around in the darkness his hand fell upon what seemed to be a torch, "at last some luck," he sighed, lighting it. What met his eyes would change Allimir's life forever?
"Father I implore you, let Allimir compete," Fuerrta begged. This must have been the hundredth time Fuerrta had asked her father.
Trinntal rolled his eyes, sighed and said, as he had done a hundred times before, "over my dead body."
"Maybe a quest?" Fuerta went on ignoring her Fathers rejection. "Allimir could compete in a quest to prove his worthiness."
An idea, though small at first began to take shape in Trinnital's mind, I need to get rid of this Enalluh once and for all, and a deadly quest could be just the thing.
Smiling, as if at last Fuerrta's pleads had worn him down, Trinnital spoke, "You know me too well Fuerrta, appealing to my love of adventure and honour." He paused as if thinking, " Very well, a quest it is, Allimir can compete for your dowry if he travels to Skyrim and brings me back the head of a Hagraven."
"Hagraven?" Fuerrtta questioned, shocked. "Surely there could be something else, maybe to collect the heart of a wolf, or compete in a test of skill?"
Tinnital's smile vanished, and he spoke with angered sternness, "He is an Enalluh!, if he is to prove himself worthy of you, this must be done.
Hagravens were vile beings, bird like features, twisted and tortured, their bodies famished, long limbed with prolonged fingers, tipped by razor like nails. They despised nature making the Bosmer a natural enemy. Myth dictated that they had once been witches that had given up their humanity.
"He said a Hagraven?" Allimir raised his eyebrows, puffed up his cheeks and expelled the air.
"Yes," Fuerrta replied shaking her head. "It's a folly of certain death and I will not let you go." She took Allimir's hands in hers, "I will not let you go!" I'd rather be bonded with Tecar than lose you completely," she continued.
Allimir squeezed Fuerrta's hands, looked in to her eyes and spoke, "This could be our chance of happiness, our one chance, yes, this may be dangerous but I know I can do this, I must do this, for us."
Hags End was atop a mountain in The Reach, Northeast of Markarth, It had once been an ancient Nordic Tomb. It was now home to a vile creature. The journey from Valenwood had been perilous, six moons had past, Allimir finding himself in mortal danger again and again. Supplies were low, he hadn't eaten for days and was weak from exhaustion, but he'd made it and his goal was now within his grasp. He recalled his parting from Fuerrta, she had begged him not to go, but Allimir was single minded in his decision and could not be dissuaded. The lovers had spent their last night in each other's arms, neither wanting to let go for the fear of it being their last embrace.
As Allimir's eyes struggled to adjust from the darkness; he slowly began to make out his surroundings. The tomb room was circular in shape, cut directly from stone, surrounded by four monoliths adorned with Nordic symbols. In the centre of the room was a stone tomb on top a prone statue of a Nordic King, arms crossed clutching a sword. The torch flickered throwing ghostly shadows around the room, Allimir got to his feet and made his way towards the tomb, at the foot were two skeletons, one unmistakably belonging to a Hagraven, and the other belonging to some sort of Elf. The Elf was clutching a shield in one hand and a scroll in the other. As Allimir approached he gasped, suddenly breathless he fell to his knees unable to believe what he was seeing, upon the shield was his family crest.
After what seemed an age of sitting, not daring to move, Allimir finally got up and examined the Elvish skeleton. He removed the scroll from its hand and unfurled it, written in Bosmer he read…
I Brewlom so of Huntarn of Valenwood write in the 123rd age of Yyfre.
I have embarked upon a perilous task, for seven moons I have travelled to the heights of The Reach to discover what I hope to be the answer to my family's misfortune. I heard whisper of a potion that could cure my new born son's affliction. This potion is reported to reverse the effects of Enalluh.
The dangers are great but for the love of my son I must now take on this danger. The potion, made from a Daedra heart is brewed by Hagravens and must be ingested on a waxing crescent moon. Known as Ageneratus, originally named for its age reversal properties may also be a cure for Enalluh.
As I prepare to enter the vile creatures den, my wife Lorinesta and sons Tecar, Nefor and Allimir are in my heart and prayers. May Yyfre smile upon me!
Brewlom, son of Huntarn
A single tear rolled from Allimir's eye, emotions of sadness, joy and relief overcoming him. His father loved him and was willing to make the greatest sacrifice to ensure his happiness. Allimir carefully rolled the scroll and placed it in his tunic, walking over to the skeleton of the Hagraven he pulled an Elvish sword from its chest, his father's sword, a battle ending in the demise of them both had taken place in this tomb 20 years ago.
As Allimir searched the tomb for supplies a raspy voice echoed in his ears, "Does the elf taste like chicken?" Allimir spun around to find a hideous Hagraven standing before him, drool running from its lips, wringing its hands in anticipation of an elvish banquet.
In an instant Allimir had drawn his bow and shot three arrows in to the beasts chest, a blood curdling scream of agony erupted from the Hagraven's mouth, raising its arms and pushing them forward the Hagraven conjured a fireball and blasted it at Allimir. With the skill and dexterity of a master, Allimir stepped sideways and rolled forward dodging the fiery death. Swoosh swoosh swoosh was followed by another terrifying scream of agony. Staggering back the Hagraven found three more of Allimir's arrows buried in its chest. Once again the Hagraven raised its arms and conjured frost, but grabbing his father's shield Allimir deflected the icy bolt, and it harmlessly struck the tomb wall. With blinding speed Allimir charged the Hagraven pulling his dagger from its sheath. The Hagraven made a clumsy attempt to grab him, dipping but as it did so Allimir dropped to his knees thrusting the dagger upwards and under the Hagraven's chin.
For a second there was silence, then, gurgle…cough…splutter, blood began to pour from the monster's mouth. Removing the dagger Allimir slid aside. Staggering and clutching its neck the Hagraven fell, gasping for air as blood filled its lungs, then silence. Wiping away the foul smelling liquid, Allimir re-sheathed his dagger. As he picked up the torch from the tomb floor something on the dead Hagraven's body flashed, catching his eye. Reaching in to its robes, Allimir pulled out a small bottle marked Ageneratus.
Ageneratus
The ringing in his ears was getting louder, shrill, piercing. The Tomb walls began to close in, Allimir pushed his arms out as if to stop them, spinning around to cover all angles. His mouth burnt with the taste of fire, his body numbing, eyes glazing. Losing his footing Allimir fell to the tomb floor, clawing, scrambling, desperately trying to fight the effects of the potion. Finally he passed from consciousness, his last thoughts filled voices from his past... "Filthy Enalluh," "That is his purpose," "I will not let you go,"...then darkness, silence.
"He's dead you know," Tecar sneered with morose delectation. "If the wolves, Gok's (giants), bandits and Forsworn have not killed him, then the Hagravens will have for sure.
"Take that back or feel my dagger in your gut," Fuerrta warned, removing the blade from its sheath.
"I'm only stating the facts," Tecar continued smiling smugly.
"The dangers are many in Skyrim, even I may find some difficulty in the task set by your father," he proclaimed with boasting pride.
"You would piss your pants and run home to your wet nurse without the backing of a large army behind you, you pompous son of a..." Fuerrta was stopped short by the gentle touch of a hand upon her shoulder.
"Stay your dagger daughter," her mother's voice softly spoke.
"But he..."
"I know," her mother interrupted again, placing her hand lovingly on Fuerrta's face. She turned to Tecar, "If I knew what was good for me I would leave...NOW!"
Tecar looked at Fuerrta with anger in his eyes, "what I say is the truth!" He turned and walked away kicking the ground like a scorned child.
Fuerrta's mother Ferina was high priestess to Yyfre, like Fuerrta she was tall and slender in appearance, olive of skin, piercing green eyes and heralded as the most
beautiful of all Elves across the entirety of Tamriel. Daughter to the then clan leader Griffandle, (famed for his epic victory over the Master Necromancer Jyarl), had been courted by many Bosmer hunters, Trinnital finally victorious after returning with her dowry, they were bonded soon after, Trinnital then becoming clan leader. This is how it was with all Bosmer clans; the first daughter of the clan leader would dictate the next clan leader with whomever she bonded. This ensured that only the strongest and most worthy would lead each clan.
"You must remember your position Fuerrta," Ferina explained, "daughter of the clan leader cannot be seen to be getting involved in petty squabbles."
"But..."
Ferina interrupted again, "No Fuerrta, there are no buts, the position you hold demands you conduct yourself in a certain manner."
"Yes mother," Fuerrta said, her head bowed in submission.
"You love him don't you?" Ferina asked sympathetically.
"Tecar?" Fuerrta snapped, "you are joking I hope?"
"No foolish child, Allimir, the Enalluh."
Allimir opened his eyes, although darkness was still upon him, a muffled voice spoke, Allimir unable to make out the words.
"Elf?" the voice became clearer, Allimir's eyes slowly focusing.
"ELF?" the voice shouted this time. "If you lay there too long you'll be some desperate creature's meal, and looking at you they'd have to be desperate.
Allimir sat upright shaking his head to clear the confusion.
"That's right," the voice came again "wakey wakey."
Allimir looked at the figure standing above him, A Nord, fair of skin with a long braid of almost white hair slung over his shoulder. He was wearing heavy Nordic armour, symbols etched in to his breast plate; golden tassels cascading from the clasps on is cape, which was a deep bloodlike red.
The Nord stretched out his arm offering Allimir his hand and joked, "get up...don't get up but let me know which before death takes me from old age."
Allimir accepted pulling himself to his feet.
"Anon, son of Algot, my sleepy friend?. I am at your service." A big smile spread across Anon's face and he pulled Allimir towards him, embracing him heartily. "By the looks of that Hagraven you've had some fun here, what brings you this far north," Anon enquired?
Allimir, still a little groggy, puffed up his chest and spoke with importance and purpose, "My name is Allimir, son of Brewlom and I am on a quest to win the hand of my love!"
"A noble quest my new friend," Anon said with respect, "and what is your need of a Hagraven?"
Allimir looked down at the disgusting creature's lifeless body, an empty potion bottle lying at its side; he moved his hands to his face tentatively, feeling for the familiar scar that had haunted him his entire life. He felt nothing but smooth unblemished skin. He looked at his hands which were now Olive in colour.
"What do you see?" Allimir asked Anon excitedly.
"Did you hit your head Elf?" was Anons reply.
Allimir asked again, this time with more urgency in his voice, "What do you see?"
Anon looked at Allimir examining his features closely, "A Bosmer Elf?" replied Anon, wondering if this was some sort of test, "one that has either bumped his head a little too hard or been drinking way too much Nordic meade.
A smile began to spread upon Allimir's now scar free mouth, "It worked, it worked, praise Yyfre, it worked." Allimir lunged at Anon startling him, wrapped his arms around the bewildered Nord and jumped up and down excitedly.
"Yay... it... eeerm...worked," Anon spoke, a look of utter confusion on his face and a little fear in his eyes.
A noise from the entrance to the tomb stopped their celebrations, Allimir spun around only to see a Fowsworn archer releasing an arrow from his bow. Time suddenly slowed, every detail, every sound every second became inexplicably lucid to Allimir. The arrow seemed to move in slow motion towards them, almost hanging in the dank air of the tomb. "What in Yyfre's name is happening now?" Allimir thought. The arrow continued on it's now much decelerated path, still heading for Anon, whose face was contorted in terror at his impending doom. Allimir plucked the arrow from the air twisting it in his agile fingers and threw it back at the Forsworn with force. Almost as soon as he had released it time returned to its rightful speed and it struck the archer with such force that it lifted him from his feet and flung him from the tomb entrance.
Something else had happened to Allimir after consuming Ageneratus, not only had he removed the curse of Enalluh, he had gained something unknown, something powerful and whether this power came from dark or light only time would tell.
Looking at each other utterly bemused, Anon raised his eyebrows and purveying the situation spoke, "Remind me not to anger you Allimir the sleepy!"
False Hopes
Five moons, that's how long Allimir and his new companion Anon had been travelling, The journey back to Valenwood had been relatively uneventful so far, hunting had been easier with two of them, so supplies were plentiful. One thing of note had been a Gok that the pair had wondered too close to, which became very unhappy when Anon asked him if it was true what people said about the size of giants feet. Once again Allimir's senses had become heightened and he escaped with ease, dragging Anon with him kicking and screaming, hurling insults and threats at the Gok as he went.
Lately though, Allimir had noticed something that was causinghim concern. Where his scar of Enalluh had once been a tingling sensation had developed as if stung by nettles. Hoping that it was a side effect of the potion or his skin's memory of what had once been, he tried to put it from his mind, but his dreams exposed his true concerns. He would wake in the dark of night in a feverish panic after dreaming that he was once again afflicted with the curse of the stranger, Tecar and Fuerrta standing before him pointing and laughing cruelly.
"What troubles you my friend?" Anon would ask.
"Nothing to concern yourself with," Allimir replied dismissively.
Anon was a larger than life character, his loud, brashpersonality getting him in to many scrapes and compromising situations. Once, while passing through Falkreath, Anon, in a drunken stupor, had attempted to seduce the Inn keeper's daughter, which led to a bar fight that would be talked about for many years to come, when all was done, Anon stood alone surrounded by the unconscious bodies of his defeated. Inn keeper's daughter over his shoulder he bed her noisily, and as Allimir recalled, by the sounds of ecstasy that escaped her lips, this would also be a night she would remember for many years to come. Anon lived life with enthusiasm and vigour as if each day was his last, filling every second with joyous exaltation.
Anon had been on a pilgrimage to the ancient Nord tomb (now known as Hag's End) when he found Allimir lying unconscious on the tomb room floor. He hailed from The Wind District within Whiterun and resided in Jorrvaskr, an ancient mead hall, home to The Companions, a group of individuals who thrived on adventure and combat. After Allimir had saved his lifefrom the Forsworn archer, Anon had vowed to return the valiant deed and agreed to accompany Allimir on the long journey back to Valenwood.
The two friends set camp a short way from the road, in the shadow of an impressive waterfall, just outside the city of Skingrad. It was a beautiful summer evening, the twilight sun throwing an amber haze across the land, the birds greeting darkness with their final chorus of melodies, crickets chirping in the long grasses of the meadow nearby.
Adding another log to the fire, causing sparks to dance like Fireflies in the darkening atmosphere, Allimir spoke, "Not long now my friend," he paused wistfully, "in a week we will cross the border in to Vallenwood, another three and I will be home."
"Thank goodness," Anon exclaimed, holding his nose in disgust, "The smell from that Hagraven's head is putting me off my food. The day I can burn that putrid lump willl be a day of great celebration."
Both laughing they settled down for the night hoping their dreams transported them to places of love and warmth.
Anon's sleep was disturbed by a terrifying scream of torment, he scanned the camp for signs of danger, but all that met his eyes was Allimir writhing in agony on the ground, his hands covering his face. Rushing over, Anon attempted to judge the cause of his suffering. Allimir grabbed Anon's tunic with both hands, eyes wide, filled with insanity, what Anon saw then he would remember untill the end of his days.
Return of a Stranger
Anon restrained Allimr pinning his arms to the ground, "Calm my friend!" he shouted, attempting to make himself heard above the agonising screams. Anon looked on in horror as a wound appeared on Allimir's face, as if an invisible foe had taken a sword and placed it in his mouth, slicing down, slowly, painfully, exposing a gaping wound of flesh and blood. In blind panic and revulsion, Anon thrust himself backwards, scrambling, pushing his legs away in an attempt to escape the terror unfolding in front of him. Then suddenly Allimir fell silent. Anon strained his neck upwards, peering cautiously at his companion. A faint light began to emit from the fresh wound, gaining in luminosity until Anon's eyes could no long endure, he covered them with his hands but still the light grew, burning as if the sun itself had fallen from the sky. Anon began to scream, unable to escape the all enveloping brilliance. An explosion of light pushed Anon violently to his back, then all was quiet.
Allimir opened his eyes, looking down on him was Anon smiling.
"Still Allimir the sleepy I see," Anon joked.
Looking bewildered Allimir asked, "What's going on, why are you grinning like an idiot at me?"
"Just a little relieved to see you're still in the land of the living," Anon said.
"How long have I...?"
"Been asleep?" Anon interrupted, "3 days, I felt sure you were dead at first.
"The last thing I remember is bedding down for the night," Allimir said, racking his brains for the missing memories.
"Probably for the best," Anon announced with conviction.
Allimir raised his voice starting to get a little annoyed, "Well, tell me then!"
"Here," Anon handed Allimir his polished steel shield, "take a look for yourself."
Before he even saw his reflection Allimir knew what he was about to come face to face with, the tingling he had felt; the nightmares; the anxiety; the curse. He looked upon his distorted reflection in Anon's shield. His head dropped, eyes closed, dizzy with the rush of thoughts engulfing him, hopes, dreams, acceptance, love, fading before his own eyes as he gazed upon an old enemy scaring his face.
"Allimir?" Anon enquired, concerned.
Allimir continued to gaze upon himself, desperately fighting to come to terms with the enormity of the crushing disappointment he was now feeling.
"Allimir?" came Anon's voice again.
Allimir looked up, the voice, shaking him from his downward spiral of thoughts. He stood, handed Anon his shield and spoke, "Come my friend, we have a quest to complete."
"That's what I like to hear," Anon said, smiling, slapping Allimir on the back, "Let us be off to glory, or the Gods take us for trying."
This was the last time Allimir dwelled on what may have been, the potion of Agenertaus hadn't been a permanent change but what lay before him gave him hope and purpose, driving him forwards in the search for happiness. He'd gained the knowledge that his father had loved him and was willing to risk everything for his happiness, something he wasn't able to say before his quest in to Skyrim. His will was now steelier, more determined, less emotional, he would do anything to achieve his goal.
Fuerrta woke as she did every morning, looking to the northern horizon, in hope that her most precious desire would meet her gaze. It had been 12 moons since her love Allimir had left, the words of Tecar echoed, hauntingly in her ears, growing in strength as each day passed, "he's dead you know." She strained her eyes, willing them to search further than their capabilities, as she looked something caught her attention, a bird maybe or a mirage tricking her eyes in to believing something was there. There it was again, there was definitely something moving, a tiny speck at first flickering in the distance. As she gazed barley breathing, the speck began to take form, "two riders, yes it was definitely two riders," she said to herself, "could it be, dare I dream?" Her heart now pounding in her chest she dressed quickly, running to the arched entrance of Fallinesti.
From around the curve in the road ahead came two figures, riding proud, heads held high. Recognising one of them, Fuerrta fell to her knees crying, an absolute and complete release of emotion overcoming her.
"Rise my love," came a familiar voice, "my quest is complete." Allimir offered his hand. Not daring to look, in case she woke from this perfect dream, Fuerrta took the hand and rose to her feet.
Slowly she moved her gaze upwards to a face she had begun to think she may never see again.
"Yes it is me my most precious," Allimir said smiling.
Fuerrta suddenly felt weak, her legs giving way. Allimir caught her, pulling her trembling body close to his chest. "It's me my love," Allimir whispered, "I have returned to you."
Pride & Prejuduce
Trinnital's fist came crashing down upon the table, sending It's items flying in all directions. "How can this be?" Trinntal yelled, "That damned Enalluh should never have returned."
"We think it may have something to do with the Nord that accompanied him back," one of Trinnital's aids said nervously.
"This is impossible, this cannot be allowed to pass," Trinnital's fist once again came crashing down upon the table, this time splitting it in two. "Leave me!" Trinnital said , gesturing to his aid's to leave the room. "Not you!" Trinnital pointed at Diblas, "I need your council!"
Diblas was Trinnital's most trusted, sitting at his right arm, many of Diblas's words had shaped Halindune and its citizens, almost as much as Trinnitals them self. Some even believed that Diblas was the true clan leader of Middle Branches and Trinnital a mere puppet, to be manipulated by Diblas for his own personal gain. He was small in stature, often mistaken for a Bosmer child, thin sharp features, his nose darting angrily from his face. He wore robes of black that concealed his feet, giving him the illusion of gliding above the ground as he walked. Trinnital found Diblas particularly useful, in
times of need he would call upon him to arrange or carry out "sensitive" tasks that were not befitting of a clan leader.
"How can I be of service to you my liege?" Diblas wheezed, wringing his hands.
"Sit with me Diblas," Trinnital said, pointing to the chair beside him. "Allimir the Enalluh has returned from the task I set him, one I had hoped would put an end to this ridiculous notion of bonding with Fuerrta."
"I understand your concern," Diblas nodded, "and you would like me to...find a solution that would alleviate this concern in this matter?" One corner of Diblas's mouth curled in to repugnant smile.
Trinnital moved his head closer to Diblas, looking around the room as if suddenly affected by paranoia, he whispered, "Make sure that this cannot be traced back to me. If the citizens of Halindune suspected I had ordered such an act, Enalluh or not, it would be the end of me.
"Fear not my liege," Diblas reassured," I have already formulated a plan to put an end to this abomination. Reaching beneath his robes Diblas revealed a small vile of liquid, deep red in colour, "This liquid is known as Wood Elf Bane, as you know we are remarkably resistant to poison, but just one drop of this placed upon a weapon, will instantly kill any Bosmer, if struck."
"How in Yyfre's name did you come by that"? Trinnital questioned.
"I have my sources," Diblas said, smirking. "I know of a bandit camp, not far from Markarth, the Bandit Chief there can be brought, for a price, to carry out certain, unsavoury tasks. The Enalluh, must pass through it to retrieve the Sabre pelt that is on the Dowry list, and when he does your troubles will be over."
Pain, blinding pain...Allimir winced but made no sound, he'd learnt from many years of physical and mental torture how to deal with pain. One side of his lip curled in response to the white hot **Brindle Spine making contact with the centre of his forehead. This pain was something he was willing and proud to endure. The smell of burning skin filled his nostrils, his own skin..
Fuerrta looked on as her father continued to scar Allimir, her steely, unemotional gaze hiding her elation as he accepted her mark.
**Sharp needle used to scar in the ritual of Krillmoor
THE END