Authors note: There just isn't much explanation for the existence of dunmer caravaners in Morrowind. There are occasional references to silt strider corpses in the Ashlands (of all places), and a hint at some gruesome "hollowing out" of the poor things and steering and controlling them by "manipulation of organs". Well. That just won't do. In a magicka-rich environment, I think we can come up with a better back story than that.

Standard disclaimer: I do not own Morrowind, or any of the other wondrous creations of Bethesda Softworks, however I certainly lay claim to misspellings, mistakes, tweaks, spells and characters of my own creation.

Darvame hummed softly to herself as she massaged the flexible surface at the front of the caravaner's seat of the interior of Velgath, her strider. The strider's soft 'hoon' of pleasure rose around her and the two of them wove a quiet melody and counter-melody. It was twilight, and she knew that she would soon be ready to settle and sleep for the night.

"Hello?" Came a familiar masculine voice from below. "Is that you I hear making music with your beast, Darvame?"

She chuckled softly in recognition. Vodunius kept saying that he'd rather be almost anywhere than Seyda Neen, but for all his talk, he'd been here for years, sharing a house and fishing labors with Fine-Mouth. Between his skills with a spear, and Fine-Mouth's own natural fishing abilities, Darvame had her suspicions as to what was happening to the formerly high level of pearls found in the nearby kollop beds.

"Come on up, outlander." She called back to him. It was an old taunt.

"Right away, dark elf." He made his way down the elevated caravan pier, and carefully climbed into the passenger's seating. "You spend all your time with this creature. Is there some attraction I should know about?"

She turned slightly to raise an eyebrow to him. "All the years you have known me and suddenly you chose to ask about my craft now?"

"It seems I'm never going to get out of this place. The least I can do is travel vicariously by listening to your tales of wandering adventure."

Ah. The reference to 'tales of wandering adventure' was a familiar one, and explained Vodunius' sudden overt curiousity. Hrisskar had been more drunk than usual last night. He must have said something about a certain ill-omened trip.

She said nothing, but said it so pointedly that after a moment the Imperial raised his hands, as if in surrender.

"Really Darvame, I'm just curious, that's all. One hears so many tales. I'm told that striders were warped by vile Telvanni magic, I've heard that they are actually quite intelligent and conceal it. I've even heard that their songs carry magicka." He tried to look ingratiating, but he was too frankly curious to pull it off. "Any truth to the matter?"

She continued the gentle massage of her mount. "Ah, the stories that are told during travel. Perhaps if someone actually hired me to take him somewhere instead of just endlessly talking about it, we would have not only time, but solitude to have some very interesting discussions."

"I'm a poor-"

"Kollop fisher, and we both know what that means." She spoke quietly. He obviously didn't want the true state of his finances known, and she was willing to respect his privacy. But things must be paid for. That was in the nature of the world.

He rose both eyebrows, in pseudo-shock.

She looked at him in silence.

After a good three minutes, he finally shrugged. "Okay." He said. "Would you be for hire for a private walk round the route that your beast chooses?"

"Velgath." She corrected him.

A loud reverberating 'hoon' echoed her comment.

Vodunius looked curiously at the front of the beast. "I thought." He began.

She shook her head. "No, Vodunius Nuccius, you did not think, you only listened to over-told tales by drunken guards."

He had the grace to look embarrassed. "Well, yes."

"So on the morrow, we shall see the pearl you bring, and offer you travel and a tale in exchange."

"Nothing for nothing, eh?" The corner of his mouth curled in a smile that made him look more attractive.

Darvame smiled. "Not in Morrowind, my friend."

He rose carefully. "I shall look forward to my lesson, my friend."

As the chill of evening brought out faint traces of dew onto the nearby walk pier, Darvame settled in to the front center of Velgath's passenger pouch. She pressed her hands against the sensitive inner antenna and hummed softly in a tone that when from high to low. Velgath crooned back to her, and then slowly began shifting her wingstubs. Slowly a greenish film formed, extending itself from both of Velgath's flanks, slowly moving upward from both sides to form a translucent cover over the resting dunmer.

Darvame relaxed and settled in for the night, laying on her back. Azura's moon was full, although through the lherp, it appeared as a rippled greenish distortion. The stars were not bright enough to be distinguishable. As she fell into a drowsy sleep, the yielding surface of the pouch slowly conformed to her body.

. Velgath sings to the ones who sky-dance / the little mothers sing back

. Velgath sings to the small walkers / they do not hear, but they step in irregular cadence

. Velgath sings to the waters that tendril the ground / the waters echo Velgaths song / for they do not have songs of their own

. Velgath sings to her daughters / the daughters are listening

. Velgath sings to her daughters / a daughter is waking

The sound of crackling broke discordantly into the musical dream and woke Darvame. The first rays of dawn-light had begun to touch the lherp. It was drying out and irritating the strider's ridges. Velgath began to shrug, clearly intent on letting it fall it away.

Quickly, Darvame reached out both hands to grasp the inner antenna. She whistled in a series of soothing tones, slow chirrups to calm the strider.

Then carefully she stood up, and worked her fingers along Velgath's ridges to loosen the lherp in the largest sections that she could manage. Most of them were about the size of dinner plates. She shrugged as she worked to gather them into a large oiled satchel. T would prefer even larger and ideally thicker specimens to work with, but that would need rain. Darvame glanced up to the cloudless sky and shrugged. You'd think a mage, especially a Telvanni mage would be able to conjure up some damp weather if she really wanted to.

Darvame stepped out onto the walkpier and whistled the trill that told Velgath to slowly turn. As she did so, the thoughtful dunmer examined the strider's lower abdomen. It did seem very slightly swollen. Between that and the change in Velgath's song, Maybe Lunela would have something to occupy her time sooner than Darvame had originally expected.