The Daughter of the Blackwood
If the world beyond the chapel walls took any notice of the tiny orange elfling who came screaming into the world, fussy and as fiery as her already vibrant ginger hair, it gave no sign. The priests of Zenithar, the elderly healer in particular, remembered it as the most difficult elven birth they had ever seen. The elfling's parents, in turn, remembered, with mixed joy and sadness, that this was the third time they'd done this, and the first time they'd get to take their child home.
Home. For Gwedhanar Felagund and his wife, Ruinil, home was a small two roomed cottage amongst several similar houses in a northern corner of the town of Leyawiin. It was not the ancient forest of Valenwood where he had grown and it didn't have the fair hills and airy woodlands of Wayrest where she was raised, but it was Leyawiin, and that's where Artanis Felagund came into the world.
At one, the tiny elfling was already babbling, incoherently at most times and intelligible only to her parents at others. Everything was new and fascinating when looked upon by the bright amber eyes of the small wood elf. And, more often than not, it was also something that she had gotten into her fluffy ginger head to put into her mouth.
Her 'terrible twos' (as Mrs. Next Door told Ruinil) would be really terrible. Really, they were actually quite scary, too. The tiny elfling, unable to climb on to beds, chairs, or couches, began pulling and tugging until the cushions upset or something fell, only to shatter or bounce on the floor or to be caught when one of her parents made a quick dive for it. It was also at that time that her teeth all came in: sharp pointed Bosmer teeth, used for tearing at meat. Artanis used hers for nibbling at everything in sight, including her mother.
When she turned three, the tiny elfling seemed to grow upward at last, finally towering some two feet above the ground. And that was the end of her bondage. Artanis was everywhere! She climbed on top of furniture, into window sills, over fences, and up most of the trees within the walls of the city. Of course she'd stopped tugging on things, but her parents didn't really notice when they were chasing after her.
About the time she was four, her mother seemed to get ill and very soon both Ruinil and Gwedhanar began to ask Artanis if she'd like a baby brother or sister, to which she'd firmly nod each time. "Some of the other kids in Sundas School have little brothers and sisters and some of them have older brothers and sisters," she told her father, trying to sound as grown up as Mama did when she said Mama things, even if they made Papa laugh. "And some of them," she went on, "have an older and a younger brother and sister!" Her father didn't laugh when she said that; he only looked kinda sad.
But Artanis Felagund proved to be a caring child grown from a miracle baby. When Sercion came home, smaller than even Artanis was, the tiny elfling took very great care with him. If her parents attention was now divided unevenly in favor of her brother, she didn't seem to mind. She was always watching and talking and singing and playing with her brother and when he was napping (and she was meant to, too, but she didn't) she'd tell her mother all the curious things she knew about him.
Sometime after she'd turned five though ("This many, Papa!" She'd exclaimed on her birthday, holding up one hand with all the fingers out. "Imma whole hand, Mama!"), her brother seemed to get sick. Artanis noticed. And she fretted. Quite soon, both Bosmer elflings were ill. Gwedhanar found a Restoration healer from the Imperial City. The healer instantly took care of Artanis, who simply rolled over and began to snore thunderously in her cot. Sercion, on the other hand...
"You've said Artanis is your only child to survive passed infancy," the healer said, speaking to Gwedhanar and Ruinil in the front room. "And she's developing quite well, even with her small stature. Sercion, though, troubles me. He is exceptionally small, even for a wood elf, and you say he's always crying and seldom sleeps at night when in his cradle."
The next morning, Artanis woke up and found herself in her father's arms in the back of a wagon heading for the Imperial City. Mama sat across from them with Sercion in her arms and the healer sat near the end of their bench, flipping through a book.
It took a while, Artanis wasn't sure how long exactly, for them to get there. The great bridge was nearly on the other side of the city and it took them several hours to get there by the south road. All the while, the tiny elfling looked on in wonder as they rounded the lake. The spiraling tower rose high above the world and the white stones shone like the diamonds that the Countess wore in her hair.
"Papa," she whispered.
"Yes, little garland?"
"I'm gonna climb up to the tippy top of that tower someday."
Gwedhanar only smiled wanly at his daughter before looking back at the passing landscape.
They arrived in the Imperial City late in the day when the sun had already fallen halfway behind the hills and forest of the Colovian West. Gwedhanar and Ruinil rented a room in one of the inns while the healer returned to the Temple of the One. "To speak with the Master Healer on what to do," he'd explained before leaving the family of Bosmer in the inn's common room.
Artanis' father had been raised traditionally in Valenwood, following the Green Pack just like every homegrown Bosmer. He hadn't tasted vegetation before meeting Ruinil, who had grown up far away from both Valenwood and Leyawiin in the great city of Wayrest and had eaten a variety of plants all her life. She was in Valenwood simply because her grandfather, the patriarch of her mother's clan, had passed into the Green and her mother's brothers has summoned his descendants from all over Tamriel home to the forest for the ceremonies to honor a Bosmer Elder. Gwedhanar was a member of the same tribe, though of a different clan, and had been quite taken with the strange, Breton like wood elf who seemed so out of place in the woods.
He refused to go to Wayrest, which stood in the north of Iliac Bay several hundred miles from Valenwood. Ruinil, in turn, refused to stay in the ancient forests. The customs were foreign and the people strange. They compromised and chose one of the southern cities Cyrodiil. Twenty years and a few hundred salads and steaks later brought the couple to Leyawiin.
It was no surprise, then, that Ruinil, who had grown up attending the Chapel of Akatosh in Wayrest, took the children to the healers in the Temple of the One the next day. Gwedhanar had only been in a chapel for the Divines some seven times: once for the joining of he and Ruinil in the eyes of the Empire; four times for the births of each of their children; twice for the private services for the two who died. He remained in the inn when they left.
Ruinil took Artanis and Sercion to the Temple of the One early in the morning. Once there, Artanis found herself in the hands of one of the young acolytes as the healer from the day before and the Master Restorationist took both mother and baby back into a private room.
The acolyte didn't have much trouble with the tiny elfling. When they'd first entered and she'd seen the great statue, Artanis seemed almost transfixed. She wandered closer until she was leaning up again the place where, in centuries passed, the Dragonfires had burned. She seemed so intent on the statue that the young acolyte turned back to putting oil in the fire brackets and left her.
"Hello sweetie." Artanis turned around so quickly that her ginger pig tails whipped around her face. A few yards away stood a lady in a long white dress with lotus blossoms tucked into her long red braid and a bouquet of the same flowers clasped in her hands. The lady smiled, making her crystal blue eyes sparkle, and she came and knelt down next to the tiny elfling. "Where's your mummy, sweetheart?"
"Mama and Siri went with the healer cause Siri is sick and Mama and Papa don't know why," Artanis explained almost solemnly. The lady nodded before brushing a loose strand of dark red hair behind a pointed ear. "Are you a wood elf too? I'm a wood elf!"
The lady smiled again. "High elf, sweetie; my grandmother was from Summerset."
Artanis frowned. She wasn't sure what Summerset was or why the elven lady was a high elf instead of a wood elf, but she was very pretty and seemed awfully nice, so Artanis decided that she liked her.
"Okay," the tiny elfling nodded. She then peered at the bouquet. "Are you giving those to your hus...husband? Mama said sometimes merry people give each other flowers."
"I think you mean married, little one, but no, I'm not. These," she continued, straightening up and turning to the statue, "are for-"
"The dragon!" Artanis exclaimed, clapping her hands and jumping up and down.
"Why, very right you are!" The elven lady replied, giving the tiny elfling a proud smile. "I come here once a week to place flowers at the feet of the dragon," she told her, placing the bouquet of lotus a little ways away from other tributes of flowers and gold and food.
"Why?"
"Well, because-"
"Child!" The acolyte suddenly appeared, gathering up Artanis in his arms before turning an apologetic and somewhat shy smile to the elven lady. "My apologies, Miss Erling, I didn't mean for her to bother you."
The lady, Miss Erling, it seemed, didn't smile quite as freely and kindly to the acolyte. "She wasn't a bother, Filius."
Filius' cheeks turned scarlet. "Of course, ma'am." He seemed almost to lull as he stared at her before starting, remembering himself. "Yes! Yes, of course. We shall leave you to it, then."
Miss Erling wiggled her fingers at Artanis as she waved back from Filius' arms as the young man walked away. The elfling giggled as she watched the high elf turn and kneel next to the statue.
"What's her name?" Asked Artanis once they had entered the temple's small library.
"Elanor Erling," the acolyte told her wistfully. "She's worked in the book shop for nearly ten years and every week she brings a bouquet of lotus to the Avatar of Akatosh." Filius continued talking, but Artanis had lost interest.
It was several hours later when Ruinil came into the library to find Artanis flipping through a book of the fauna found in Morrowind. The elfling continuously giggled between oh's and aw's as she examined the strange, insect like creatures. When her mother kneeled before her, Artanis looked up.
"Mama, where's Siri gone?"
"Come on, my little tree bough," Ruinil said, ignoring her daughter's question. "We need to go back to Papa at the inn."
"But Mama-"
"Hush, my darling garland," her mother chided softly as she lifted the tiny elfling up into her arms.
"Mistress Felagund!" Filius the Acolyte exclaimed, hurrying over. "Where is your son? Is he well now? I'm sure Master-"
"No, no, Sercion is dead," Ruinil said coolly. At her words, Artanis turned green and began to shake her ginger head violently. "We will be leaving now," she told the stunned Imperial.
"Mama!" Artanis cried. She couldn't grasp her mother's strange coldness at the mention of her brother; how she could simply accept that he was dead. But when they arrived at the inn and she, clambering away from her mother, had rushed forward to her father and told him the horrid news, he had merely laughed and ruffled her already messy hair.
When they returned home to Leyawiin, everyone seemed to look at them sadly and half of them offered half sincere apologies and a few gave heartfelt condolences. Yet Gwedhanar and Ruinil Felagund seemed oblivious to the fact that they had just lost their son. They still coddled Artanis, who tried for months to make them remember Sercion and his ginger peach fuzz and coal like eyes with their strange bright leafy green irises and his giggle like the bells during New Life, but to no avail.
Artanis was six when she stopped trying to bring Sercion into every conversation. A few months later she stopped mentioning him all together. Her father began taking her into the Blackwood surrounding Leyawiin, teaching her about her heritage as a Bosmer of Valenwood and how Y'ffre gave them the Green Pact.
"The forests of Cyrodiil aren't as old as those in Valenwood. They are not sacred to our people, Arty, and that is why you have been raised to take whatever you liked from them. You can pick an apple and eat it here and it doesn't matter to anyone, but never take from the woodlands of our native province like that. To break the Green Pack like that in Valenwood would result in a punishment worse than any the Empire could inflict."
When she turned seven, it was time for school. Everyday, Morndas through Fredas, she'd join the other children of Leyawiin in going to the school house at eight in the morning. Nearly every afternoon her father would teach her how to fight with and tend to daggers. Her mother tried to teach her how to cook, but Artanis could never grasp it or sewing or any form of needlework. She did, however, find soap and candle making a skill within her grasp. As long as her mother watched over her, of course. Her eighth year went much the same as she learned to read and write and how to maneuver through the forest.
It was in 171 of the Fourth Era, nearly three full months after Artanis turned nine, that the war between the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion began. It didn't seem to touch Leyawiin as it did the western cites like Anvil or Kvatch, but the boys talked of learning to fight the 'elven dogs' and many of the men and a few of the women left to bolster the Imperial Legions. It didn't seem to effect Artanis as much as it did the other children at school. Many of their fathers had gone to lend Emperor Titus II their swords and those that didn't seemed to either be making them or training with them.
Then the summons came from the Dominion.
The entire Felagund household had been tight lipped and somewhat distant since the start of the war. Near the start of winter, however, a messenger came from Ruinil's uncle, their tribe's chieftain, to call Gwedhanar to join them under the Aldmeri Dominion's banner. They could remain quiet no longer.
"They don't need you!" Ruinil screamed, her face red from crying. "You've lived in the Empire for nearly thirty years! I've been an Imperial citizen my whole life! You can't betray the Emperor like this!"
"I am not betraying Titus Mede, Ruinil. Why can't you see that I am going only to protect our homeland from the Legion and their march of destruction?" Gwedhanar pleaded softly.
"They're fighting in Colovia and Hammerfell, Gweth! They aren't anywhere near Valenwood! Quit being such a bloody nationalist and think about your home and your family! What about me? Or your daughter? Are you going to leave her fatherless because you went off to fight her schoolmates' fathers? Men who have been our neighbors for years?"
"You read what Galadhion sent! I will be protecting the borders so that the ways into Valenwood are barred to any who wish to enter. The Legion isn't interested in invading the forests because they're too busy defending the Empire from Alinor; but in the event that they head south, someone needs to block them," Gwedhanar attempted to explain.
They had many arguments like this over the course of the week, most of which Artanis was witness to. She never said anything when they argued; she had long since stopped trying to make them believe half of the things she said. She could get the schoolchildren to believe anything she wanted them to. Selkies in Topal Bay? Faeries in the Blackwood? An ogre in the Countess' powder room? The court wizard being part Nirnroot? They drank it up. Her parents? Not so much.
It was on the 1st of Morning Star of 172, scant hours after the beginning of the new year, that her father left. The sky was still dark and full of stars when the three Bosmer made their way to the dock gate. Ruinil cried silently as she hugged her husband farewell. Artanis, in comparison, seemed quite stoic. Gwedhanar embraced Ruinil gently, murmuring numerous low words into her ear before kissing her there, on her cheek, nose, and lingering lastly on her lips. They touched foreheads before pulling slowly away from each other and turning to Artanis.
There was roughly a difference of two feet between father and daughter; Gwedhanar being rather tall for a wood elf and Artanis being just shy of four feet. The elder wood elf knelt down before his ginger headed child, who gazed tiredly at him with dull amber eyes.
"You'll take care of your mother, little garland, while I'm gone?" He asked softly. Artanis only nodded. Gwedhanar sighed before gathering her to his chest. "You are the most wondrous gift we could have ever been given, Artanis Galadhriel," he whispered into her soft ginger hair. "You're very brave and loyal and one day you will be a great leader. You just need to relax a little bit, you graht-oak." He pulled away and gently gripped her by the shoulders, giving her a sad little smile.
Artanis slowly smiled in return. "I love you Papa," she said, betraying herself with a sniffle.
"And I you," Gwedhanar said as he stood up. "Both of you." He placed a hand on Ruinil's cheek for a moment before pulling away. She sighed sadly then.
"Take care of yourself, please Gweth," she said, pulling Artanis into her side and giving her husband a pleading look.
"Of course I will Rue!" Gwedhanar gave them both another smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll be back ere long; this war shouldn't last beyond the summer!"
And then he was gone.
"Will it?" Artanis asked softly, pressing herself into her mother's side.
Ruinil didn't say anything for a long while, only hugging her daughter all the tighter. After a long while, she spoke. "The war, my darling, is because the pride of man will not bow to the dominion of elves. It will be long and bloody, because both are quite powerful and stubborn and unyielding. Your father will be gone far longer than he believes."
Artanis was quiet then, thinking on her mother's words.
It didn't take long for word to spread around Leyawiin that Gwedhanar Felagund had left to join the Aldmeri Dominion. Everyone who had once been their neighbors and friends swiftly turned to taunting them, belittling them, and even threatening them. Soon Artanis was no longer welcome in school and Ruinil could scarcely go to market without having her basket stolen or she herself being kicked down; not to mention that the merchants and shop keepers would barely look at or even sell to her.
Scarcely two weeks had passed after Gwedhanar had left when the Dominion came suddenly from the west out of Elsweyr. They marched upon the gates Leyawiin, their gold and glass armor and golden skin contrasting heavily with the bleak winter landscape of the woods and swamps of the surrounding country side. They quickly forced their way into the city; the fighting didn't last long after that. There were few left to defend County Leyawiin from the elven forces and soon the Count and Countess were disposed of, replaced with a military governor.
Most of the men were gone or dead and mothers were left to bow to the elves as their children quaked in fear. Artanis herself was mostly left alone while her mother was made to serve their governor in Castle Leyawiin. She didn't know what her mother did there, other than bring the governor his dinner and clean his chambers, but Ruinil seemed to grow paler and quieter by the week.
Artanis didn't know how the people of Leyawiin managed to survive, but for a while they did. The Thalmor had implemented a curfew over the town: no one was to be out before dawn or after dusk, and the people, begrudgingly, followed it. All of the houses were searched and everyone's weapons were confiscated. Anyone found to have one in their possession after the search would be punished by the Aldmeri Dominion. Both Artanis and Ruinil looked on sadly when they took Gwedhanar's spare bow and other small weapons that he hadn't taken with him.
Things were very dark and bleak in the town where light and color had once reigned. The days and weeks bled into each other until spring looked just like fall and summer like winter. They didn't have any news from the rest of Cyrodiil, or anywhere for that matter, and hope seemed utterly lost.
Artanis spent her tenth birthday watching the ships of the Aldmeri Dominion's naval force sail up into the Niben from Topal Bay.
"Where are they going, Mama?" She asked that evening when Ruinil came in.
"To the Imperial City, I fear," her mother sighed. "Bravil has fallen and they're going to try at taking the island by sea now."
A year to the day that Gwedhanar Felagund had left for Valenwood, news came that Lord Naarifin, leader of the Dominion's army in Cyrodiil, had brought them to the very walls of the Imperial City. More soldiers from Alinor poured into the town of Leyawiin to bolster the forces trying to take the whole of the Niben. Ruinil theorized for a curious Artanis that there was likely resistance from Cheydinhal and the Legion in the Imperial City preventing them from gaining total control. "Though I fear," she went on, "that that won't last for long."
Over the spring and summer of 173, Artanis began going to the castle with her mother. She refused to stay home alone all day and Ruinil had nowhere else to put her. After ordering Artanis to stay where she put her, the not so tiny elfling found herself in the castle gardens in the mornings and the kitchens in the afternoons, rarly seeing her mother.
One summer day, shortly after Artanis' eleventh birthday, she'd been ordered by one of the kitchen maids, a Breton girl who had grown quite scornful of the little Bosmer's supposed 'free reign of terror,' to take the high interrogator and the governor tea. "And don't just set it down and leave! Serve it to them!" She'd screeched. Artanis, her short body fitted in to a too long dress, made quite the awkward picture walking slowly to the Countess' sitting room.
One of the Dominion guards opened the door at her tentative knock. Artanis glanced up to see crystal blue eyes before bobbing her head nervously and carrying the tea tray to the table that stood between the chairs of the governor and high interrogator in front of the fireplace.
"I believe we'll have the city taken by this time next year," the high interrogator, a graceful Altmer woman with golden hair and dark eyes, was saying while gesturing languidly for Artanis to put cream into her tea.
"So long, Elenwen?" Governor Alfakyn asked absently, watching Artanis shakily pour up the hot liquid.
"These things take time, my Lord," Elenwen replied, gracefully taking the crystal tea cup from the small wood elf.
Alfakyn only nodded, still watching Artanis.
"Will that be all, my Lord?" She whispered, thoroughly regretting ever going into the kitchens that afternoon.
"Tell me," Alfakyn began, "is your mother called Ruinil?"
Artanis nodded shyly, wondering where her mother, who served the governor personally, was.
"I see," he said. He set his tea cup down. "Come here."
Artanis, with fear burning like a raging fire in her heart, came to stand before the governor. Alfakyn took one of her loose ginger locks between his fingers and examined it. "You look very much like your mother."
"Th-thank you..." Artanis paused, "my Lord."
The governor's eyes darted from the ginger hair woven between his fingers to the heart shaped face and upturned nose of the wood elf before him.
"Tell me, for I believe I don't know, whatever happened to your father?"
"My... Father?" Artanis repeated, not expecting the question. "He... Mama's uncle called him back to Valenwood to...to..."
"Yes?" Alfakyn pressed, placing the strand of hair behind Artanis' leaf like ear and running his hand down to her elbow.
Artanis did not like him, nor did she like the strange interest he seemed to have in her parents. "He's gone to protect the borders, my Lord. He meant to return last summer, but he hasn't come back yet."
"Hmm," was Alfakyn's only reply as he ran his hand down to Artanis' wrist.
"My Lord Governor," Elenwen said, watching him interact with the child. "I do believe that the child should be sent back to her mother."
"What?" Alfakyn started slightly. "Ah yes, young one, you should go back to your mother. She is cleaning my chambers and you will find her there." Artanis quickly nodded, not wanting to remain with the man any longer. She quickly hurried to the door, which the guard from before had opened. "Tell her to meet me in my study within the hour, if you will child," the governor called after her.
"If I may, my Lord," Artanis heard the guard say after the door was closed. She pressed herself against the wall, trying to calm down her burning fears and wondering why the soft lilt of the elven woman's accent was familiar.
"I'm in a generous mood Vilya; go on."
The was a pause before she spoke again. "My Lord, why did you question the elfling about her parents?"
"I will admit to also being curious, my Lord Alfakyn," came the haughty voice of Elenwen.
"Ruinil is a lovely specimen, quite unlike her barbaric kin in Valenwood. I needed to make sure her husband was not returning."
Artanis' eyes opened wide. Her Papa...her Papa...
"Do you truly intend...?" Came Elenwen's inquisitive question.
"Oh yes," Alfakyn went on as Artanis darted silently down the hall, unable and unwilling to hear anymore.
She quickly found her mother, who was just exiting Lord Alfakyn's chambers looking uneasy, one arm wrapped around herself while the other held the laundry basket full of dirty towels and sheets to her side. When Ruinil saw her jumpy little daughter, she quickly put the basket down before Artanis barreled into her arms.
"My little garland! Whatever is wrong?" Ruinil asked, hugging her daughter. They were near in height, now, Ruinil only being five feet tall and Artanis being just over four.
"Mama," the eleven year old said hurriedly. "Mama, Lord Alfakyn was asking after you and...and about Papa!"
Ruinil's already pale complexion grew as white as a sheet. "Artanis..."
"And - and he wants you to meet him in his study within the hour!" Artanis went on. "He wanted to make sure Papa wasn't coming back!"
Her mother pushed her away and gripped her shoulders with a force Artanis didn't know her mother was capable of. She looked into her mother's frenzied amber eyes, her own wide and more fearful than ever before.
"Mama-"
"Artanis, go wait in the tree next to the pond. Stay hidden there until I come for you!"
"Mama-"
"Artanis Galadhriel! Promise me you won't let anyone see you!" Ruinil demanded, shaking her terrified child.
"I - I promise, Mama!"
Ruinil quickly hugged Artanis to her before pushing her away again. "I love you, remember that!" She called softly as Artanis set off running.
Artanis waited in the highest boughs of the tree for what felt like hours. It was twilight when she saw her mother walk down the path from the castle towards their small house. She almost made to follow when Ruinil glanced at the tree, shook her head, and continued on her way.
Part of her wanted to follow after her mother anyway, despite the promise she'd made. After several minutes of debate, Artanis was about to get of the tree when she suddenly saw two Dominion soldiers and Lord Alfakyn walking down the same path her mother had taken some twenty minutes before. Artanis scurried back into place just as they passed by and made their way to her house. Lord Alfakyn left the two soldiers standing outside the door and he entered alone.
It was dark when the quiet of world changed. Artanis had been dozing lightly when suddenly the smell of smoke invaded her nostrils and she started, nearly falling from her perch. When she came to herself, she quickly realized that her house was glowing.
Glowing...with an angry crimson fire.
With a cry of dismay, the little Bosmer scrambled down the tree, skinning her hands and knees on the bark all the way down. She tumbled on to the ground before darting toward her house, screaming.
"Mama! Mama!" She screeched at the top of her lungs. A crowd of spectators had begun to form nearby and Dominion soldiers were everywhere, trying to control the populace. "Mama!" Artanis screamed again when suddenly someone grabbed her from behind.
"Stop! Child, stop!" The guard, Vilya, commanded, pulling the elfling to her.
Artanis began to fight all the harder but her struggles were useless against the golden glass armor. "Let go of me, you monster! Let go! MAMA!"
Vilya continued to hold Artanis back as the house continued to burn and several of the surrounding buildings caught fire.
Many of the wooden structures within Leyawiin burned down in the early morning hours of the 10th of Last Seed in 173. Many people took refuge in the Great Chapel of Zenithar or in the stone buildings built into the city walls while the fire raged and the Thalmor wizards went about putting it out. Many people died and their ashes were cast into the Topal Sea by the survivors in the coming weeks as Leyawiin was rebuilt to mimic Altmeri architecture. With that and the news that came later that Lord Naarifin had completely surrounded all but the north side of the Imperial City, all hope seemed lost to the remnants of the people of the Blackwood region.
Artanis woke up the next morning in a corner of the chapel. She was confused and disoriented as she looked around in fear at her unfamiliar surroundings before she remembered. She sat in her corner, recalling the events of the previous evening and how the guard Vilya had put her within the chapel doorway before rushing off, shouting orders to the frenzied people and accompanying a group into the burning shell that had once been the Felagund household.
She frowned. The guard's blue eyes and lilting accent had seemed familiar, but she was sure she didn't know her. And she'd kept her from her mother! Her mother, who was probably dead because of Lord Alfakyn.
Sniffling, Artanis clambered to her feet and made her way toward the doors of the chapel.
"Artanis Felagund! Where do you think you're going?"
The elfling turned, her hand on the door. Behind her stood one of the priests of Zenithar, a basket of bandages in his arms as he looked down at her in reproof.
"Brother Marthus, do you know if my Mama is all right?" She asked, turning fully to face him with an eager look in her amber eyes.
The Imperial man shook his head, setting his load against the wall and approaching the child slowly. "They pulled the bodies of her and the governor from the wreckage, but I don't believe either of them survived." His heart broke for the little Bosmer when a look of hopelessness swept over her small, ash smudged face. "Artanis...I'm sorry."
The Bosmer only shook her head, tears welling in her eyes, before she yanked the door open and darted out into the hazy air.
"Artanis! Artanis!" Brother Marthus called after her and giving chase, but she didn't stop running.
The gates to the city were opened, a rare occurrence in the last few years, but Artanis payed them no mind. She darted through them, ignoring the calls of the Dominion soldiers who joined Brother Marthus in pursuing her.
They didn't look for her long. The Blackwood had been her playground throughout her childhood and she knew how to lose them by taking to the tree tops. Artanis refused to go back. She had to keep running. She needed to keep running.
And so she ran.
Disclaimer: anything that you don't recognize is mine, e.g. Artanis, her family, etc. The Elder Scrolls belongs to Bethesda, though the interpretations of events are technically mine and theirs.
Author's Note: Infamy's Daughter is meant to chronicle the life of Artanis Felagund, my Bosmer, through her beginnings in Leyawiin to when she makes her way to Skyrim and joins the Companions. It takes me a while to write each part, though I've been putting off uploading Daughter of the Blackwood so that there'd be less time between it and the second part, the Road to Cheydinhal.
Please review. Believe me when I say they're a real help whenever my muse is getting bleh and taciturn.
Oh, and if you're wondering, I've taken my names for wood elves from the RealElvish website. Tolkien is very helpful.