Tot-a-lotta, tot-a-lotta, the sound of hooves beat on the forest floor; birds went silent as the hooves got louder. A wizened old elven woman opened her eyes at the sound. Her bones creaked as she stood from her gardening. Her eyes hadn't dimmed with age, but were sharper than in her youth. She still could stand tall as the riders approached.

Three rode up to her. A Khajiit wore the armor of a Knight of the Nine. The other's a Dunmer, and Nord wore simple armor. They didn't appear to bear any allegiance to the warring factions.

The Khajiit swung of his horse and knelt before the Bosmer. "Divine Crusader."

The Nord, a woman, studied the elderly Bosmer with surprise, "This is the hero of legends?"

The Divine Crusader laughed, "Let's see how old you look at the age of eight hundred fifty-three!" She knew the Khajiit, Kha-mar; his job was to keep her up to date with the world. This was his second visit this year. "Kha-mar, who are your friends?"

Kha-mar, his yellow-orange tail lowered stood, "This is Sarel Deran," he motioned to the male Dunmer; he waved at the Nord, "And Freya daughter of Wulfgar."

"You have a powerful name child." The Divine Crusader commented, looking the Nord over. Freya inclined her head in thanks. "Shall we have a cup of tea, while you tell me what happened?" It wasn't a request, it was an order.

The trio stabled their horses, and followed her in. It was a small house a single ground floor room. It was rather quaint and plain for a legendary hero. Kha-mar made the tea as the others claimed plain wooden chair in what was likely the living room.

Freya studied her childhood hero, her long white hair, wrinkled face were typical of a common elderly wood elf woman. From the paintings she had always been pale, very strongly adapted to the cold. Many Nords' whispered she wasn't a Bosmer, but a Felmer. Not in her hearing of course.

"Crusader…" Sarel started as Kha-mar passed out the tea.

She held up a hand to silence him, "I haven't used a blade in a very long time, just call me Anarzee."

Freya hadn't expected her to be this kind and informal. While all the books depicted her as strong willed, commanding and strict, this old elf was more like a village matron than the hero of old. Was history wrong about her?

Anarzee knew the look upon her face, "Freya, all those years ago I was an idealistic, fit young elf. Now I am old and weak."

Kha-mar gave her a shocked look, his eyes had gone wide. "Anarzee, you aren't weak, just out of practice."

She placed an age spotted hand on his fury shoulder, "Just tell me why you have come."

It was Sarel's turn to speak, "A month ago in Valenwood, not far from Haven, an old Altmer tomb was excavated."

"What was written on the tomb?" Anarzee demanded. She kept her trepidation from her face and locked away.

"Your name, along with every title you have earned in your life. Yet it dated back before the coming of men." Sarel continued. He had been there, had been the one to open the tomb. Now he wished he hadn't. "It was empty except for an envelope with your name on it." He reached into a pocket and pulled out the afore mentioned envelope. Her name a written clearly on its surface, though the paper was ancient.

"Read it." She commanded as he tried to hand it over. Sarel didn't move, the glare of a military commander told him to do other wise.

He cracked the ancient seal and removed the ancient parchment. The ink was clear, and was written in modern Imperial. "Anarzee, by the time of discovery you will have grown old and out of practice. You have done so much for all people, but the dark stain on your soul remains. Traitor and liar, may you rest with out peace…" He couldn't read the rest of the insults and accusations, "The Snow Prince."

Freya winced at that name. The Snow Prince was a Nordic legend and fabled hero of the Felmer. Why would he bother with contacting Anarzee ten thousand years later? She glanced over at her childhood hero. Tears slide slowly down her cheeks, and sorrow was bland on her face. What was going on?

"Zee?" Kha-mar asked softly.

She stood and went over the nearest window. Anarzee took deep breaths doing her best to steady herself. Why had this letter been left? Oh she knew she knew all to well. To the Felmer being a blood traitor was the worst offense possible. No good dead was able to redeem a blood traitor before the Snow Queen. She would face the Snow Queen soon, far sooner than she would like to. There was only one way to redeem herself before her. It meant going far to the north. One last quest before she died one last mission. This time it would not be for others, but for her.

"I am going far to the north." She said simply and climbed the stairs to the second floor.