Whispers among Roses
In the city of Bravil a long time ago, before even your Grandma and Grandpa were born, lived a young woman.
Her little boy, no bigger than you, was very sick. She prayed and prayed to Stendarr to save him, for she loved him very dearly.
However, the Grim Reaper came for him anyway.
The poor woman was so frightened by the cloaked man who flew in through the window. She tried to stop him, but he was too quick.
So she gave chase to him, running out of her house and following him into the Great Forest in the west of Cyrodiil.
It was a perfect night, so cold and cloudless. High above were the Stars, with no Jone and Jode to dull their sparkles.
The young woman, knowing that the Gods had not helped her, begged the Stars for aid.
She was draped in silence until one of them, an old and dull one, spoke up.
'I shall help you, Mother.' He said. 'But in return, you must give me your youth! Let me burn bright again!' He cried.
And so she agreed, giving her youth to this Star, who henceforth burned with the brilliance of his younger days.
In return He showed her the direction she would need to travel, in the way that Stars do for many a traveller and explorer.
The woman, now as an old hag, went forth as quickly as she could, for Death can be speedy.
Soon she came across a Wolf.
'Please Wolf,' she begged. 'Lend me your speed, just for one night! I must catch up with Death, who has taken my son!'
The Wolf considered this. After a time He replied: 'I shall, Mother. But in return, will you give your left hand to feast upon? For I am a Wolf after all, and need my speed to hunt.'
The Mother saw that this was fair, and allowed the Wolf to eat her left hand. She found that the wound sealed immediately, and was grateful for that.
Now with the speed of the wolf, she followed the path the Star had shown her, up to the high mountains near Bruma.
Yes, dear child, that is very far from Bravil, and a cold place indeed! Now hush, so I may tell you more!
The woman was in the mountains above Bruma, along the border with Skyrim, in the cold and far north.
The Wind chilled her to the bone, her ragged clothing offering little protection. She knew that the Cold Wind would quickly kill her.
So she cried out in her still young voice: 'Please, Wind! Spare me from Cold's bite! I come here to save my son from Death!'
The Wind sang back to her: 'A noble quest indeed Mother! But for my aid, will you give me your voice, to make my songs all the sweeter?'
The Mother saw she had no choice, that it was either that or death, the latter being an ironic end to her quest.
So while the Wind whipped the mountains and made the snowflakes dance the Mother felt not the icy Cold.
It was not long before she found Death's sanctuary, a mountain valley where neither Star nor Moon shone, and where no Wind blew or Wolf stalked.
Instead, a vast and beautiful Garden of red Roses sat here, by a trickling stream of the coldest and bluest water.
With the path the Star had shown her, the speed the Wolf had lent her, and the protection of the Wind, the Mother had arrived before Death did.
Not long before though, for Death knew this path well, was speedy Himself, and could not be harmed by Cold.
He was very surprised to see the Mother in his Rose Garden.
'Return my child!' she cried hoarsely.
'I CANNOT' He replied. 'I MUST PLUCK THE ROSE ATTUNED TO HIS LIFE, AND ALLOW IT TO FOLLOW THE RIVER OF LIFE.'
The Mother knew what He meant by that, and crouching down, grabbed several Roses in her right hand. Their thorns pricked her, but she held on.
'Return my child, or I shall pluck these Roses!' she cried.
'NO!' Death screeched, frightened.
Then He tried to reason with her.
'YOU ARE IN SO MUCH PAIN BECAUSE OF THE LOSS OF YOUR SON. AND YET YOU WOULD INFLICT THAT SAME PAIN ON SO MANY OTHER MOTHERS PREMATURELY? SURELY YOU MUST SEE THAT EVERY MORTAL HAS HIS OR HER TIME, JUST AS EVERY ROSE IN MY GARDEN DOES.'
'I don't care!' she screamed.
And Death saw that that was true. It made him smile behind his cloak.
Death was very old, and very cunning. Behind that cloak was not a man but a Force. An intelligent one that knew how to turn this sequence of events to his advantage.
'I SHALL COME TO TERMS WITH YOU, MOTHER, FOR I SEE YOU HAVE SACRIFICED MUCH TO REACH THIS PLACE.'
The Mother listened.
'YOUR SON SHALL BE RETURNED TO YOU, BUT ONLY IN ANOTHER LIFE, AS ANOTHER MOTHER'S CHILD. AND YET, YOU SHALL HAVE MANY MORE SONS YET!'
The Mother asked Death what He meant.
'YOU MOTHER WHO CAME TO ME IN THE NIGHT. YOU SHALL BE MY 'NIGHT MOTHER'! I SHALL GIVE YOU SONS, BEGOTTEN BY MYSELF AND YE. A BROTHERHOOD FOR YOU TO LOVE AND POSSESS!'
'AND IN RETURN, YOU AND YOUR BROTHERHOOD MUST SERVE ME, AND DO MY WORK!'
The Mother saw that all this was fair, and agreed.
Death, who has many other names; Chaos, Emptiness, Oblivion, Sithis...,waved his hand.
The Mother, now the Night Mother, saw that her left hand had regrown. The only difference was that it was jet black and withered.
With another wave her beauty and sweet voice were restored.
And yet her beauty was terrible and beguiling in an insidious way and her voice meant to sing songs of doom.
Meanwhile, the Roses in the Garden became arrows, the stems becoming shafts, and their petals cold, sharp steel.
Together with Death the Night Mother gave birth to a Brotherhood of sons, ruled by her Black Hand, whispered to with her deathly voice, and gifted with her terrible arrows, the Roses of Sithis.
And true to his word, Death brought back Her darling son to Her. A boy marked by Sithis since he was in his mother's womb.
The one The Night Mother's songs were always meant for, and the son she loved the most.
And she sang the sweetest songs for only him to hear. Him to Listen...
Several days later, the young woman's body, as well as that of her sons, was discovered on her house by the townsfolk who knocked her door down.
Seeing that her left hand had been hacked off and her son dead of sickness, they could only conclude that she had committed suicide.
Filled with pity, they buried her body in a beautiful crypt, on top of which they erected a statue to her memory, a testament to a mother's love.