Keeper and Dovahkin by Spottedleaf9 and Dracanoth Dereal A bitterly cold wind was blowing, but no one took notice. It was like this day after day. Having just hung up my cloak, I sat on the edge of my adopted child's bed and stroked her hair. It wasn't often that my callings gave me a chance to come home to Riftweald Manor and spend some time with her. I had just returned from a rather difficult adventure in which I had literally gone to hell and fought off a dragon with a vampire at my side.
Seeing that my daughter was sound asleep, I sighed and left her to her room. It was just the two of us in the big, empty house. Exhausted,
I counted myself lucky that another crisis hadn't sprung up before I could even get to Solitude to see her asleep in bed and safe. Swinging myself up into bed, I paused, waiting for something absurd to happen and wisk me away once more, but it seemed I really had gotten a break this time.
Satisfied, I let my head hit the bed. I hadn't closed my eyes for an entire twenty minutes before a voice suddenly spoke aloud to me in the darkness of my room. "Excuse me, I've been looking for you. Got a letter I'm supposed to deliver; your hands only." Stifling a shriek, I sat up and numbly, half asleep took the letter that was pressed into my slack fingers. "That's all."
The courier who had been brave enough to bother me as I at last found sleep was going to be less than happy in the morning when I told the Jarl that his thane had been treated improperly. I hated to pull rank like that, but sometimes, I felt like I had to. Casting a ball of Mage's Light to drift above my head, I broke the seal without bothering to inspect it and pulled the letter out of the especially nondescript envelope. The offending courier quickly exited my home, which I felt was a wise decision on his part.
The slant of the letters revealed to me that I was being written to by someone of a higher standing. The fact that it was also in the high elven language told me I was about to be handed some more trouble that it seemed "only the Dragonborn could resolve". I was getting really tired of it. People came to me with their problems and I was always glad to save lives, but I wasn't getting any kind of reprieve to live my own in between these often deadly adventures.
Dear Valisilwen,
It has come to my attention that you have performed many great feats all through out the land of Tamriel. I have been watching you for quite some time and have finally decided you are just the hero I need. In a few days time, a dear friend shall be coming to your land. If my sources are reliable, then he should appear in the wilderness somewhere there is lots of...snow. Forgive my hesitation, these words are not quite as common where I am as they are for you. As it is, you should feel honoured that I have chosen a puny mortal such as yourself to represent me. Together with the man I send forth to your world, you shall work to find a way to do the same for me. You shall come forth and bring me into your realm so that I may bring order of my own kind to it.
This is for the good of your civilization. Thank you for your cooperation.
Not sincerely,
H
The mysterious article had been signed off with a single letter and as I wondered what the hell was going on, it struck me that I hadn't heard a window or my front door open or close this entire time. Throwing back the pelt-covering on me, I stood and searched my home. The courier was nowhere to be found.
Chills raked down my spine like deadly claws. He had either never existed in the first place or had the ability to teleport because he had not left my home by any conventional means, for I had not heard a single click of a single door;nor had he entered the way a person was meant to. I was clearly dealing with what was quite possibly the most deadly adventure of my life time.
x
Shadows danced in the corners of the room, trying to exist within the presence of flickering, frightened torches. The flames, seemingly weak, are actually very old, having lived in their illuminating state for ages, in terms of a flames lifespan that is. This flame still is far away yet from the end of it's life. The cold stone-brick walls help keep those fearful shadows alive within the deep crevasses of the aged cracks.
Small imps scurried this way and that, screaming in short out-bursts at one another, as they bustled to go about their stately business. They rushed over stone tiles, imprinted with a small red diamond directly in the center of the cold barren square. These thick, wide tiles pelted the entire floor, leaving no room for any dirt to seep through the underground fortress's floor. As they scurried past in a blur, it became apparent to me that these poor magical creature's only goal in life was to please their master, and thus far, they'd done a fine job. They ran back and forth, continuing their squealing banter, their dark green bodies glinted in splotches of sweat as the perspiration laid claim to their skin. A few sharper sparkles came from the crowd of imps, as some of them rushed back after mining gold, to leave the heavy cargo in the treasury. The only thing that didn't glint off of these small creatures, was the black inky pools that they called eyes. Disgusting, I've frequently wandered how much more peripheral their bulging eyes allowed.
I sat in the luxury of my fine woven chair. Very few glories like this one exist in the matrix of such a dark, dank and barren world. Everything in this god forsaken land is acquired through hard work. Thinking back to the entire ordeal is rather annoying really. I remember distinctly speaking to all of the creatures who might know where to get their hands on something of comfort. At the time I had figured that if I had to sit for the rest of eternity in this place having conquered everyone and everything with my close accomplice, I might as well do it in comfort. It was quite the ordeal as I talked to anyone who might know anything about a weaver. Fabric is such a rare material in this world, leaving the least worthy such as those petty pathetic goblins with no more than a loin cloth. Only the most fortunate such as the highest warlocks managed to get their hands on these wondrous robes. Finally I managed to find one particular warlock who had not stolen his robe off of the poor lowly corpse of some sickening hero and re-sewn it into something new, or bought it from someone who had gone through the same process. A warlock who had oddly enough bought it from a lonely troll in the farthest reaches of the lands. Having grown tired of his profession in repetitive blacksmithing, he actually went and took up weaving in his spare time. So I went there and had him craft a metal frame for me of which he then covered in the finest cloths he could get his hands on.
I remember the humble old troll well. He was quite the card, in fact I even thanked him on top of giving him his usual payment. Me, a Keeper!
Thanking a troll. But, he had done a fine job and he honestly did deserve that thanks. Really, I've never seen such a grand grin on such a toothless old little troll. I actually had quite a decent visit despite the horrible condition of almost all places in the Midlands. I arrived at the troll's home, and gazed upon the pictures on his wall. I could assume from the pictures and the undeniable two-person home set-up, that he was a widower.
as I looked at all the framed pictures of his hideous dead wife, and his grotesque twisted lamps, I felt less disgusted than I would have by his home due to the troll's apparent joy despite his position. Having lost his love, and with the fact he lives in a twisted horrid thing he calls a home. Something about the troll's spirit made me despise the trip only a little less.
Yes all this ran through my head at this moment, as I reclined in the comfortable metal frame. I snapped my finger, and an imp dissipated before my very eyes in a column of sparkling blue light. In moments to pass, as dim torch lights flickered behind my eyelids, the very same imp,
though I did not see his face to confirm he was the very same, came back through a doorway in a fast scuttle, and placed a cup of tea resting upon a plate into my hand. I had expected this cup of tea, the imp knew exactly what I had meant in the snap of my fingers. Had he not, it would mean he were new to this dungeon, and it would require strict punishment to sear into this imps mind the operations of this place. I have a fine web going through this system of tunnels and rooms, a fine web that waits for me should I decide to pull any particular string at any time, it is well known that I expect the order to be carried out. I grinned as I used another magical strand to order an imp to incline my seat, so I might sip my steaming tea in a more comfortable setting.
The tea's sweet liquid essence washed through my being, as I drank one of the two things that gave me any form of joy in this world. A sweet age old cup of Earl Grey. As I took another warm sip, a distinct sound came through the bustle of imps, and the crackling of frightful fire. A sound recognizable, and unmistakable, from one of my more important servants. A loud buzz and the sounds of wind echoed through the halls, radiating from the powerful firefly's wings, as he entered my lair. This actually elegant beast amongst the armies of grotesque creatures had an abdomen the size of my torso, with wings spanning the length of my body, landed before me, folded his wings, and to the best of his abilities bowed. Of course this was little more than a bob of it's head, for that's all this beautiful servant of mine was capable of. It was expected though. No matter how difficult it is, one always takes the deepest of bows before the keeper of the land.
"At ease." I stated in a formal tone. This was the customary, if any were to raise their head before excused by none other than the one in rank,
they were to be punished on terms of second degree treason. It is not a major crime, but one that is inexcusable nonetheless. They are beasts, and I their lord. If they, didn't bow, I would have the right to have them put to death myself, or even banished from this land. I've been forced to do so before.
The insignificant firefly raised his head in sharp recognition, aware of the consequences should I think his bow not sincere, and with his front fore-legs, handed me a letter. A letter from an old acquaintance, a good friend, the only entity and the only other thing in this god forsaken world, that gives me any joy. I sat in mute anticipation of this piece of paper. Already knowing the general contents, I had been reviewing the premise of our plans in the other world, reviewing them again and again, contemplating, expanding, plotting. Even while the thoughts of that blasted lowly troll entered and left my mind, our plans and how I would execute them was the main point of focus that ran through my head. Out of this bleak world that never leaves any impression on me, never gives me joy, and mostly entices boredom out of me, I must honestly say I am glad. Although I have little knowledge of what glad is, from what little I do know, I believe I am what people call "glad." I am glad that I now no longer have to feel the black abyss of nothing. I honestly don't care if I feel nothing, it is irrelevant. But I do prefer to feel something, other than the abyss. It puts somewhat of an end to my monotonous existence. A letter firmly sealed with an ever familiar color; a letter firmly sealed in a crimson red wax. At the far right bottom of this other-wise blank slip of paper, was a single initial "H."