Sound of Silence

by Emerald Ryuu Feather

A mute Altmer named Falnaro is chased from his home on the Summerset Isles by the Thalmor for his stubborn refusal to take sides either for or against them. His whole family is destroyed and he flees to Skyrim in hopes of not being found and being able to avoid war. Instead he is thrust once again into a position where he shall shape the fabric of Nirn itself. Yaoi be warned!

A/N: So I really like the idea most nords would be in shock to hear the Dragonborn was an elf especially an altmer. So…. We all know Nirn is not perfect, things can happen. However, what about birth defects? Like blindness, deafness, or perhaps mute? I want a non-perfect hero, one with a huge disadvantage. So… I present the adventures of Falnaro.

Warnings: Well as I am the one writing this: Gay sex/romance/other stuff. Swearing, abuse, death, whatever terrible Sh*t gets written down that was adrift in my mind that sounded like a good idea at the time.

Disclaimer: I own nothing besides a puzzle and Peter Hollens CD which I purchased with my own money. And some stuff… But not the rights to the game. I do not own or work for any part of Bethesda, I don't even live in the UK. I wish. I hate living in America. Shocking isn't it?

Title: Sound of Silence

Chapter One: Escape

Falnaro had been on the run for about half a year and only just arrived in Skyrim. He'd run to the last place the Thalmor would search. After all, an Altmer who was from an old family, willingly running around in Skyrim, a land filled with warriors that despised elves, especially high elves? That is as insane as finding a Khajiit that disliked fish. Needless to say that did not eliminate the chance of being found completely. After all there were Khajiit that disliked fish, and thus there were Thalmor with brains. Just a select few, which were mostly in Summerset, but there were a few located around the rest of known Nirn. Though to be stationed in a place most altmer from back home would consider backwater, one must have either pissed off the wrong people, or be expected to die because they proceeded to piss off the wrong people.

Needless to say, Falnaro was both smart and had a feeling it would be difficult for him to piss anyone off in such a place as Skyrim. Falnaro had been born without vocal chords. He was mute. He'd also been chased out of his home and the rest of the Isle by the Thalmor. His family was gone, most of his possessions were hidden in mansions hidden in remote areas hidden around Summerset, but he was gone. If the Thalmor wanted him they'd have to track him down.

He had just arrived on the borders of Skyrim via a ship that had thankfully been able to carry his prized stallion as well. He lead the fidgeting temperamental bastard down off the ship and onto the docks then went and grabbed his two bags. He put both on the stallion's back then pulled himself up and steered the horse off the docks and onto the road. He was right under the capital, Solitude. He chewed his lip, there was bound to be Thalmor, right? He dismounted and went inside to buy supplies. He went and bought some food for the way, silent and nervous, wanting to be on the move. He had a piece of his fortune and his prized weapon collection, and the cloths on his back that was about it.

"Come again!" The friendly nord Innkeeper says smiling, and Falnaro smiles back waving as he leaves. He then stops as a random altmer sees him and comments on his attire. He wishes he could scream at her, he'd just sailed from Summerset without a chance to grab other cloths of course his current attire is lacking and worn. It was amazing it was even clean considering. He'd worked for his spot on the ship, and paid for his stallion. He was annoyed and walked away refusing to listen to the woman. He needed to find something to wear that wasn't as thin as a sheet, this was Skyrim, the north; thus he needed warm cloths. Or furs, just something to keep him from catching hypothermia.

After walking around he was about ready to cry, he wasn't sure where to go. Then he saw the sign; Bits and Pieces. A general store for certain. He walked in and sighed in relief, there was warm traveling cloths and furs. He bought some smiled at the cheerful woman and left. He went to his stallion who was pawing the ground eager to go, pulled himself on and started down the road. He had absolutely not a clue where he was heading only that he was following a road and hoping for the best.

He was beginning to regret not buying a map, he had no idea where he was going and the temperature was dropping fast, he hopped the next town or whatever was soon, he was shivering badly and he was certain his horse was having just about as much fun. He hunkered lower in the saddle and shivered as he tugged a fur tighter around himself.

"Hand it over, you won't get hurt and you can limp back home." A taunting voice states and Falnaro pulls his steed up short to see several Imperials harassing a young Breton in chainmail covered by a blue sash, and fur lined boots and gloves. Falnaro had no love for the now weak Empire. He dismounted and drew a blade from his larger bag and strapped it to his side before approaching. He caught the eye of the lead Imperial, a man who was obviously from Cyrodiil, with his tan and dark hair, and accent. His men held the poor Breton still as their leader looked at the approaching mer.

'What is going on here?' Falnaro signed it was his only form of communication, and he knew it was a requirement to be a legion leader. The man looked at him confused and Falnaro shook his head rolling his eyes skyward he pointed at his throat the shook his head.

"Ah, you're mute." Falnaro claps slowly to convey he was both annoyed and highly unimpressed. The man just blinked at him owlishly and uncertain what to do. Falnaro gestured to the hostage Breton and looked confused. The Legionnaire looked back and forth a moment then recognition lit his face. Falnaro wanted to just skewer the man and be done with it.

"Oh, you must be new to Skyrim, this is a Stormcloak courier, he won't hand over the information he has." The man states turning his back to Falnaro to advance on the young Breton who had been watching Falnaro, and had mouthed help me. Falnaro stepped into the way and approached the Breton himself, the imperial saying something about how it be nice of him to help. Instead he signed asking if he'd done the troops wrong, answered with a negative shake of the Breton's head he nods looking grim. He turns as if to walk away but instead draws his elven sword cuts the leaders throat as he swings back around to face the two others, they shove the Breton down and draw blades. Falnaro had lived for a long time, he was an Altmer after all, and thus had a lot of skill with his sword.

He first ducked under one blow while side stepping the other then spun around to drive the blade into the exposed throat then pull back and nock the other's sword from his hand and just stand pointing his blade at the Imperial soldier, who turned and ran back toward Solitude tripping and stumbling in his fear to get away from the mer. Falnaro pulled out a rag and cleaned of the blade. He turned back to see the Breton still on the ground looking at him terrified.

'Are you alright?" Falnaro signs as he kneels down to help the young man up. The Breton nods nervously. He shivers a little and Falnaro takes the fur off his shoulders and wraps it around the young man. He seemed surprised by Falnaro's kindness, but the elf had never enjoyed watching anyone suffer. He lead the boy back to his horse and then decided to investigate further.

'Where are you going? Its night and cold, I can get you there faster on horse.' Falnaro signs and the courier bites his lip before accepting. Falnaro gets up on his horse then helps pull the Breton up in front of him, smiling slightly when the young man blushes. Innocent, and not quite his type. He listened as he was directed down off the road, leading to a secluded area off the main road, then he pulls his steed to a halt, there's movement ahead.

"Alright gold skin, hand over the boy or shit gets ugly." A gruff voice barks as three men dressed like the Breton step out two with bows drawn and at ready, the one straight ahead holding a blade. Falnaro raises his arms in a placating gesture looking down at the Breton hoping for help.

"Wait, he just saved my ass!" The Breton says unable to dismount till Falnaro was off. The three relax but all look incredulous.

"That's an elf, an altmer at that. You say he helped you?" The one in lead asks, blade lowered and the Breton nods. The three pull back and sheath their weapons and let Falnaro pass and thus reach the camp, all the soldiers gawked as Falnaro dismounted then like a gentlemer, helped the Breton down. He smiled when his fur was handed back which he pulled back around his shoulders, then as he turned he froze, a man wearing what Falnaro knew to be noble's attire with bracers and a chest plate.

"You, why would you help one of my men?" It seems to be the one in charge, perhaps even the whole group. Falnaro looks at the Breton then the nord, an older man, greying at his temples and a little in his beard. He looks again at the Breton.

'Will they all understand?' Falnaro signs, the Breton nods. Falnaro looks to the nord who'd approached. Then reluctantly signed; 'Why would I not help a young Breton being attacked for doing no wrong? I am a mer, but not a Thalmor, not a monster.' Falnaro signs looking uncertain as the nord's eyes go from his hands to his face.

"Then I thank you. You're mute?" The man asks and Falnaro nods no shame, he'd been born without a voice, so why should it bother him?

'No vocal chords.' Falnaro signs tapping his throat afterward to convey the message further. The man's eyes narrow as he looks over the mer as if searching for a hint of dishonesty. Falnaro feels tired, he needed to find a place to just sleep, eat what remained of the bread and venison then hope he found a village early the next morning.

"A flaw the Thalmor must not appreciate." The nord states matter-of-factly and Falnaro's hands curl into tight fists as he grinds his teeth fighting not to lash out. The nord didn't know. Nords knew what the Thalmor made altmer look like.

'The Thalmor cared more about my families' unusual hair and eye color, I could have served many uses as a mute, had I been perfect!' The nord had never seen someone stress a word through sign till that moment and could sense how much anger was behind the sharp movements and saw in blue eyes how pained the elf was. Falnaro turns deciding it was time to leave, but he had been nursing wounds inflicted to him when he'd first fled, he'd toughed through this far, and taken good care to keep the wounds clean, but poison used on him prevented him from healing the wounds magically. The one that had worried him was on his back, he wasn't able to care for it so carefully as he was unable to see it. He felt sharp pain felt dizzy then collapsed.

The nord was Ulfric and seeing the elf reach towards his horse and sway had him step forward only to jump towards the mer as he faints. He had caught the mer, he pulled an arm around his shoulders and wrapped an arm around the slack body he was surprised how light the elf was before snapping to attention.

"Get the healer." Ulfric shouts lifting the elf and half carry half drag him to the tent for the wounded and laid him down. He went to the Breton who explained how the battle went and how there was no way the elf had been hurt. Then both noticed the dried blood stains in the worn clothing the elf still wore. Ulfric pulled the shirt up and cursed, the wound was deep and ran along the underside of the mer's ribs, across his lower back on the left side. It was infected and carefully pulling the shirt off revealed several other wounds, all tended and mostly healed, but still tender, a few even open from his earlier fight. The Breton felt terrible. Ulfric gave a gruff fact, the elf helped of his own free will.

"I'll do my best but this altmer could have used magic meaning the wounds must have been dealt with a blade that had a harmless poison that prevents the inflicted wound from being healed with magic." The healer says as she heals what she can, having to open the wound to drain it which woke the elf who groans and lifts his head pushing himself up on an elbow, looking at the three hovering over him wearily, he looked weaker than he had already. It was a strain for him to even hold himself up.

"What caused these wounds?" The healer asks. Falnaro chucked but it came a strange airy rasp.

'Thalmor as I fled Summerset.' Falnaro signed laying back and keeping himself tilted at an angle. He licked his lips in a nervous habit, 'I couldn't heal them properly on the run and a poison prevents magic being used.' He explains and the healer nods as she pulls out a dagger. Magic would not work but potions or more practical methods would, and the wound needed to be cleaned. Falnaro grit his teeth and turned over exposing the wound as he tensed. She scrapped the damaged and infected gunk out then heated the dagger with a torch and cauterized the wound making the elf spasm and choke out a strange airy noise. She dabbed healing potions over the other wounds before bandaging the elf's torso.

"You are fleeing the Thalmor then?" Ulfric asks and Falnaro nods looking down shivering as he now sat up he needed his remaining food and rest, the infection was hindered but still in effect. Falnaro tried standing but Ulfric stopped him.

"You saved one of my men, let my men help you. What do you need?" He asks and Falnaro feels his cheeks burn in shame as he looks away. He signed indicating his bag, the one bearing a flaming bird on the buckle. Ulfric went and fetched it off the stallion, surprised by the beast's intelligence as it was by the tent when he came out. He gave the bag to the elf who rummaged for a moment before pulling out a small parcel, and a warmer looking outfit. He easily pulled on the shirt which Ulfric knew was for traveling in winter, which unfortunately for the weakened mer, it was.

The pants was where the elf became uncomfortable and finally just put them back, pulling out a few other furs to keep him warmer. Prepared. Ulfric thinks impressed. Then he realizes what the parcel is, a meager ration of bread and venison. No wonder the elf had been desperate to get going. Ulfrc told the Breton to watch over the mer, and to go grab two helpings of the stew and give one to the elf, the Breton nods understanding the concern as the elf was a little on the skinny side, in a worrying way.

"So, why Skyrim instead of other places more suitable?" Ulfric asks as Falnaro picks at his bread. The elf looks up and sighs looking away a moment.

'When you run; you run to the least likely place, to most altmer on the Isle, no offense, Skyrim is backwater, no mer like myself from an old blood family would think to come here.' Falnaro signs sitting up though it was taxing him to do so. Ulfric nods, the mer was bright, but something made Ulfric wonder. Why would the Thalmor turn on an old blood family? He decided if the Thalmor chased off their own kin it was their concern.

"I'm Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, leader of 'The Nord Rebellion' as the Imperials like to put it. If you wind up looking for work I'd be glad to have you help free Skyrim from Imperial rule." Ulfric offers and Falnaro gives a small smile. He disliked what the Empire had fallen into right after the last true Emperor died. Falnaro sighs and bites his lip, a nervous habit he had.

'I do not know anything about this civil war. Only that the Imperials are over stepping their bounds.' Falnaro states then goes back to picking at the bread. Ulfric nods moving so the Breton can come in and give the altmer a bowlful of stew. The altmer looks shocked. Ulfric smiles and leaves the elf in the breton's care. Falnaro breaks the break and hands half to the Breton, not feeling comfortable not sharing what he had if the Breton as going to be looking after him. Then he cut the venison and handed half to the Breton. He also felt sick just thinking about food. The Breton was surprised but the elf gave him a stern look when he tried to protest.

"So you obviously had no qualm putting those Imperials in their place… Why not join the Stormcloaks?" The Breton asks and Falnaro gives an airy rasp that was as close to what he got to a chuckle. It seemed he was getting pushed so subdtlely toward joining this group of rebels.

'I don't know who these Stormcloaks even are, nor much about the war going on. I was withdrawn from most politics back home. I was head of my family, so I handled our political stance, I kept us neutral, and my family followed that, none of them wanted to have a part in the war, we were healers, smiths and alchemists. My daughter and I were really the only truly skilled warriors.' Falnaro signs looking up to see the Jarl move back into the tent to see the elf sign about a daughter.

"So you're married?" Ulfric asks, and Falnaro flushes in shame looking down he shakes his head. Being what he was, a mer who preferred another male's company, was considered a crime punishable by death. Falnaro didn't know how it was viewed as every encounter he'd had with any lover had been considerably clandestine. Though it had been many years, much too many since he'd last had anyone both willing to have him and he willing to give himself to them.

'No… I could never find anyone that caught my eye.' Falnaro signs looking nervous as he goes back to chewing his lip. He keeps his eyes down; he didn't know much about political stances on males being with males outside of the Dominion. He felt nervous, hat if they found out, would they kill him? Or would they keep him as a pet? Falnaro felt his heart pick up in pace and had to clutch the fur and calm himself down. Both the Breton and Ulfric noticed the small panic attack.

"What's wrong?" The Breton asks and Falnaro shakes his head. Nothing was wrong. He signed he was fine just bad memories. The two nod not believing him. Falnaro just goes to picking at his food. The two sense the elf doesn't wish to speak so Ulfric goes and the Breton fills Falnaro in on some of the aspects in the war, how the White Gold Concordant banned Talos, Falnaro's eyes flash at that. He knew the Thalmor were altmer supremacists, 'mer over man' but really they viewed all other races as being under them.

'I just don't know what is and isn't considered acceptable to cultures outside my own. I worry I may offend. I mean, the Thalmor made the Isles a poor place to be if one prefers the same gender, or if one is perceived to be mixed blood.' Falnaro signs keeping which he was hidden. The Breton nods.

"That's understandable, but you won't have to worry about that, well in this camp anyway, Stormcloaks are required by Ulfric to put aside personal opinions regarding race because more than nords consider Skyrim home. Though mixed blood does receive heated opinions, but so you know very few people in Skyrim or in most other provinces consider preferring the same sex bad. In fact I'm almost certain Jarl Ulfric's gay. Oh. My name's Ernster." The Breton, Ernster says smiling gently at the elf who smiles looking relived.

'So I need not worry about my preference for other males? That is… Strange but reliving. Thank you, my name is Falnaro, and just for the record my family has never been mixed, we just have abnormal coloring for High Elves.' Falnaro signs and Ernster nods smiling he smiles sadly and says he has to go. Falnaro understands, the young man is a courier he runs messages, of course he has to go. Falnaro still felt lonely without the young man though. He felt full but did not wish to sleep. He sighs as he finally lays back pulls a few more furs from his bag over him then goes into a restless sleep.

"Wake up." A voice states and Falnaro opens his tired eyes to see Ulfric crouched by him with two bowls of soup. He sat up slowly his side as tender and throbbed and he hissed in a breath face twisting in pain. Ulfric went to get the healer but Falnaro shook his head wincing as he sat up, feeling cold without fur around his shoulders. He pulled a fur higher shivering slightly.

"Here eat this, the healer says the wounds are better, though she suggests going easy on the one on your back. She said so long as you don't get in any fights soon she'll allow you to leave." Ulfric states and Falnaro takes the offered bowl raising a questioning brow as he takes a bite, a bit bland but he's tasted Cyrodiilic food, he's had worse. He looks down surprised a land of 'barbaric savages' could cook better than a lot of what he'd tasted in Cyrodiil.

'So your courier thought you were gay, but do you not have to produce an heir?' Falnaro signs after placing the bowl on the floor. Ulfric arches a brow in curiosity. Falnaro feels a flush crawl up his neck and flicks his gaze to the side. Ulfric was tall for a nord, broad in the shoulders, had a deep voice and was dashingly handsome. Falnaro's type for certain.

"No… I mean it would be best to pass on my families legacy, but in reality there is no law saying I must have a legitimate heir to my seat as Jarl. I could adopt, so I can easily pursue a striking male partner, or find a handsome submissive elf willing enough to have a family with." Falnaro can hear between the lines, the Jarl was flirting with him. The flush crawled up further tainting his ears and cheeks. Falnaro couldn't though.

'I wish you luck then, submissive mer are hard to find and one with the carrier's trait even harder. I've lived too long, and my body would not bear a child with ease, not like a younger mer. I'm also not certain I could take a lover, as I still miss my last.' Falnaro admits looking away as guilt and shame raise their heads. Falnaro wraps his arms around his chest feeling vulnerable somehow, and like the thought was somehow treacherous.

"Not rightly looking, just stating the obvious, you are submissive, right? You have that slim figure and wider hips than most mer your size, and you have that shy nature about you." Ulfric states with a shrug. Falnaro can senses a pain in the way the Jarl states this, a pain that he felt a little too familiar with. He stared at the Jarl before reaching out a hand and setting it hesitantly at his wrist and sending a wave of gentle soothing healing magic. Ulfric's eyes widen and he looks at the elf who blushes as he draws away, the comforting healing magic fading with the warmth of the touch.

'I can sense your pain, Jarl, and I wish it were not as familiar as it is to me. I do not know what causes you your lovelorn. I just know that it is not a pleasant pain to deal with on any front. Though if I may be so bold as to ask what happened?' Falnaro signs before setting his hands in his lap as the nord sighs and nods, any tension that the healing magic had eased coming back in an instant. Ulfric looked away a moment before he looked back.

"I placed my love and life in the hands of a woman who sold me to the Thalmor for half a million septims. I found her ten years later and the reunion as not pleasant for her." Ulfric states and Falnaro draws in a sharp shocked breath. Someone who sells another for money by manipulating them emotionally is a horrid thing. Falnaro feels his gut twist and has to look down. He had once had a lover taken from him because he'd been suspected of betrayal, but Falnaro had had proof, proof they'd ignored. He'd felt the greatest feeling of satisfaction killing the true betrayer.

'Betrayal making your gut grow hot and your throat close like it were in a vice. Yes, I know the feeling. Though my lover had not been the one to betray me, but those who were meant to be family. I found love after that, though the gods it seems do not wish me to keep it for long.' Falnaro signs looking off to the side eyes misting as he thought over everything. His life was long and storied but he felt like none of it mattered. His family was gone, his lovers long dead. He had nothing but the drive to destroy the Thalmor keeping him grounded.

"A shame, an elf with your looks and heart could draw attention from men and women. Ever looked for mutual company?" Ulfric asks purring suggestively at the last part and Falnaro flushes to his ears looking at the Jarl shocked, jaw slacked slightly and eyes wide. Ulfric leaned in a forefinger under the chin to keep the elf still as a gentle kiss is pressed to his lips. Falnaro's eyes slip closed and he leans closer craving the attention and in too much shock to properly process the situation.

Then he feels a tongue request entry and jerks back with a gasp. Eyes wide and lips parted only slightly as his face burns in embarrassment. His hand comes up to brush fingertips over his lips as if trying to figure out if that really happened. His hand drops as he blinks at the Jarl who watches him a slightly amused look on him.

'Though I am not truly adverse to the idea, elves do not seek out partners unless wanting a relationship, or at least we older elves. Though I can't speak for Orsimer or Dunmer, and I don't want to even think about Falmer.' Falnaro signs blushing and looking away and Ulfric grins finding the shy behavior endearing and dare he think it, cute. Falnaro stretches gingerly feeling the pull on the wound and thankful he can't make much noise. He takes a deep breath and packs away his things. Standing with some help from the Jarl.

"I take it you're leaving then?" Ulfric asks, Falnaro nods but hesitates inside the tent. He's chewing his lip. He has no map and not a clue where he's going or where he might lay low, and watch the war pass him by. He'd seen enough fighting in his life already.

'I'd like to get moving, do you know where I might find a town that has someplace selling maps? I have not a clue where I'm going, and honestly wish to avoid the war. I have seen too much fighting already.' The elf signs feeling reluctant. Ulfric blinks in shock, the nervous elf's eyes gave it away that haunted look. Ulfric gestured him to follow. He brought him to the command tent where an elf stood talking to someone who Falnaro could only guess was a general. Ulfric shared a few words the general gave the elf a look then went to a chest and pulled out a rolled parchment.

"It's unmarked save for towns, major cities, and the roads. If you're looking for anything close to neutral ground you'll want Whiterun, it's the center city marked with a stallion head." The general says handing it to Falnaro who bows his head in thanks before turning to look at Ulfrc but the Jarl had already gone. Falnaro walked to his stallion and surprising those watching him easily swing himself up into the saddle. He looked around saw Ulfric bowed his head in thanks wrapped a hand in the reigns and pulled his horse into a rear before getting him to gallop back to the road.

Falnaro grinned as he knew he had a habit of dramatics. He reached Dragon's Bridge soon enough, and bought food there before checking the map. Rorikstead was the closest and if he was traveling on road he'd need plenty of food, thankfully his horse was quite used to grazing. He dismounted and let the impatient stallion outside as he looked around and bought some bread and venison from the Inn Keeper then got on his way, knowing it would take him several days just to reach the town, if not a week, then perhaps a day and a half to reach Whiterun.

At least now he had a clear course of action. He rode until dark. Falnaro let his steed trot about as he warded up the area built a small fire and a sleeping area. He went into a restless sleep, fire and death chocking him and waking him easily, until dawn came at last like a fresh breath that cleaned his tired throat. He ate a little not hungry after such dreams. He sat and dozed off and on as his steed followed the road. He never slept much though, he'd start to shift in the saddle and would straighten with a jerk. He went through the cycle several times, arriving at the small farm town as night fell.

"Welcome! Just passing through?" The Barkeep asks. Falnaro gives a tired smile and nods. He buys some food and a room, thankful only a few days he'd be somewhere he might be able to start a new life. He prayed he could start over, that he'd be allowed that good fortune. After renting a room, which thankfully consisted of him holding up a bag of coin and getting told the price. His rest was no better in a bed than it had been on the road. He woke in starts and cold sweats and then struggled to slip back into some semblance of sleep. He got an early start with more food.

When he was finally arriving at the city he was in shock. It was larger than he'd thought, and the keep looming above the hill was magnificent. He slowly dismounted and stared surprised when a hand waves in front of his face. The stable master looked amused so Falnaro breathed a sigh of relief.

"You stabling this stallion of yours?" The man asks and Falnaro nods. He leads the horse to the stable behind the man and takes off the two bags, one with some traveling items and his coin purse the other his prized blade collection. He felt his gut twist as he had not eaten all day, he hadn't been able to hunt as he had no bow nor arrows on him, and had never been much good with conjuration. Ask him to do any trick with destruction or even alteration and illusion and he could do it, ask him even the simplest conjure and he floundered like a child.

'How much do I owe you?' Falnaro ass signing and the stable master smiles and signs that all it would cost was ten gold. Falnaro looked up thanking the gods perhaps he would be understood. He stifled a yawn and handed over the gold. He sighs and looks at the city feeling hopeless at finding any Inn open at such a late hour. After all it was dark. He walks into the city and sees a woman struggling with closing her stand and walks up, and gently taps her shoulder to gain her attention.

'Would you like help?' He signs concerned, she was an older woman and was having trouble with a younger Nord man dressed up like a legionnaire. She smiles in thanks and nods.

"That would be kind of you dear." She says and Falnaro looks at the man stepping between her and him.

'Please, leave, you're presence is unwelcome.' Falnaro signs. The man snorts and grabs the elf whose eyes flash and he grabs his bare arm and sends a warning flash of sparks getting him to let go with a yelp.

"Guards! This elf attacked me." The man shouts and Falnaro looks behind him when a hand settles on his shoulder startled to see an older looking nord with pale grey gold hair glaring at the young man.

"He did no such thing Battle-Born, you were harassing my wife and he tried telling you to leave, and gave you a light zap when you grabbed him. You're not even burned." The man states and the guard that had moved closer relaxed back and seemed to go back to ignoring them. The Battle-Born stormed off.

"This isn't over Grey-Mane!" He barks as he retreats. Falnaro looks at the nord who waits till the other is out of sight then looks at him.

"Thank you stranger, you needn't have helped my wife." The man says and Falnaro shrugs blushing lightly.

'It was the polite thing to do she was in some potential danger. I could not in good conscious ignore that.' Falnaro signs back. Going a little pink as the man smiles warmly.

"Then all the more reason to thank you. Though an altmer of your coloring is odd. Mixed blood?" The man asks curiously. Falnaro flinched memories all too raw flashing in his mind at the term. The man saw he'd triggered something as the mer looked down and drew in on himself a little. Falnaro shook his head.

'My family has had this odd coloring since we started. My family is old blood on the Isles, yet we were wiped out because or unusual and imperfect looks, it's common in my family to have black hair, though I admit my blue eyes are rare, but to kill a whole family knowing the likelihood they are mixed, which is your only reasonable motive, is slim to zero? I kept my family neutral with the Dominion due to the fact all of Mara's children are equal. That is why they purged us. I'm so happy the only thing worth saving in the house they burned to the floor was my blade collection and a small bit of the family fortune.' Falnaro signs looking away feeling the heat and twitching.

"So the Thalmor are as bad on their homeland as they are everywhere else then?" Falnaro nods looking at the floor as tears glitter in his eyes. The nord pats his shoulder. Falnaro straightens and gives a light smile and bows to both nords, he looks at the woman checking for harm pleased to find none.

"So you only have what's on you?" The woman asks concerned. Falnaro shifts on his feet uncomfortably.

'And the horse I managed to bring with me, yes.' The elf signs in embarrassment. The two nords look at him shocked. An elf that had nothing, could boast of nothing, that was humble, that was rare.

"So you know no one here nor have anywhere to go?" The woman asks and the elf shakes his head. He had no one left. He blinked and had to look away as the tears burned in his eyes. His family gone, all his friends outside the Isle long since dead and the only thing behind him his family properties on the isles. There was no reason for him to go back and little for him to go forward.

'The last time I was outside of the Isles was a long, long time ago. The friends I once had are long passed on. Is there an Inn that's open at this hour?' Falnaro asks and the woman shakes her head.

"Oh nonsense! You'll come to stay with us. Right, Eorlund?" She asks, the man who is obviously her husband, who nodded. A younger nord walks up and Falnaro tenses fearing in his gut, but then he smiles, eyes trailing his form.

"Hello." The greeting was a purr, and Falnaro flushed at the implied meaning. He follows as the old woman pulled him along talking about how nice it was to have a guest in the house. Of course h is introduced to everyone, even Eorlund's brother who evidently mostly stayed up at the Companion's Hall, Jorrvaskr.

"This is Vignar, Eorlund's brother, the one who said hello is Thorald, Eorlund and my youngest, the girl sulking in the corner is our middle child, Olfina, the one with the battle axe is Avulstein, our eldest. Oh, I'm Fralia by the way dear." Fralia says pointing out each in turn and Falnaro blushes getting so much attention when he wasn't used to it even at Family events he never had so much attention.

'Falnaro Lorethar, a great pleasure to meet you all.' Falnaro signs uncertain if any in the family knew it besides the married couple. All seemed impressed.

"Lorethar? As in Lorethar of Summerset who was the Hero of Ka-" Falnaro flinched and turned slightly eyes screwed shut as he shook his head. He did not want to remember, it still hurt too much. Thorald went silent at seeing the response, the elf fit the description the hero had, and being a altmer was long lived so maybe? Falnaro calmed himself down and looked down as he responded finally.

'That was me in a long ago past, yes. I prefer not to think of those days as the fires are too much alike to recent memories for me to endure right now. A mer can live to one thousand, or at least Altmer, Bosmer and Dunmer can. Orcs prefer to die in glorious battle once they dub themselves old, and knowledge on the Falmer and Dwemer is all but lost.' Falnaro signs and his shoulders hunch and he seems to be trying to keep himself from curling in on himself. There's a light in his barely seeable eyes suggesting he is reliving something unpleasant.

"My apologies." Thorald states and the elf seems drawn from his daze as he looks up blinking a moment before relaxing as he realizes what the nord means. Falnaro shakes his head signing quickly it was not the Nord's fault.

'I get lost, four hundred years and most has seen fighting and war, my mind does not need a prompt to send me into unpleasant revere, though I thank you for the consideration.' Falnaro signs sifting his weight and wanting to go, he wasn't accustomed to receiving good will from others. This was an odd occurrence. Perhaps leaving the Isle had been a good thing. He smiled hesitantly when he was shown a seat and it was as if he were a member of the family.

"If you wanted to escape war you chose the wrong realm to come to." Thorald jokes and Falnaro smiles. He nods remembering the care given to him after just arriving.

'I know, even when I was an elfling your kin were fighting, not sure what, but you were fighting. I also met a few soldiers near Solitude that brought attention to a Civil War. So what exactly is going on? I never got much news from outside the Isle.' Falnaro asks and as he listens his face grows grim. His hands are fisted at his knees. To deny Talos offended him greatly as he was and still is The Knight of the Nine; The Crusader. His eyes flashed a rage and his body tensed but he listened.

'This is about nothing save my kin wanting to ascend themselves. So the Empire disgraces its memory, that damn coward Ocato could not lead and practically allowed the Thalmor their rule. Then again he struggled to keep the Council in order and together… I share the blame, I should have mustered my kin, I had power to at the start but I was weary and pained. How can they be stopped now? I doomed and failed my people.' Falnaro signs ranting though it was habit of his to sign his thoughts, it was like someone lost in thought muttering to themselves. He shook his head staring out to the side but seeing instead the carnage he'd been met with upon returning home, after all the pain in Cyrodiil.

He had helped with the tatters of what remained to fix his homeland, and then he had gathered his family and returned to their properties rebuilding and gathering what was lost and pillaged like all others returning what they found that belonged to others. Then he'd refused to allow his family to become militaristic, and in the start spoke out loudly against the fighting and what the Thalmor pushed for. But he grew weary of trying to raise a silent voice. He'd slunk back into the shadows. Then his family was once again scattered and he was cast to the flame.

"You hold this tight to you; you need to forgive yourself, whatever grief you hold will destroy you. Your people failed you, not the other way around, the Thalmor have shown their true colors yet they are followed. That is a choice, and one they had to make on their own. It is no fault of yours." Thorald says softly and Falnaro's mind wakes and his head rises and the tears glittering there he becomes the image of an elf who needed not to hide his pain but showed it openly.

'I could have spoken out instead I did nothing as a defender of the heart of my people was exiled for openly questioning the Thalmor. Rynandor had long been a friend to my family even myself. I did nothing to help him in the days he needed me and his death is my fault. All I can do is scream silently and wish the loss of the days as a Hero had not rattled me so completely that I went blind to the rising threat. I can no longer do anything as my name is shamed and my family wiped out. I hold no hope my kin will see reason now if a Hero like my friend could be so easily cast off.' Falnaro signs blue eyes filled with anguish and glittering as they darkened to a stormy blue from the mix of both sorrow despair and anger. The anger at himself and his kin for being so blind and gullible, the pain for the deaths that hung over him, and despair for the knowledge that nothing was going to change that.

"'Heart of your people'?" Avulstein asks, Falnaro nods as he takes a deep breath.

'The Crystal Tower, it fell during the Oblivion Crisis.' Falnaro signed shaking his head as he remembered how horrible it had all been. The sheer death toll they had taken, at the thought he closed his eyes clasped his hands and prayed to Arkay. He rested his head on his knuckles a single tear escaping him. They had been near extinction; no other realm had been so affected.

"I think that's enough talk on that." Fralia says and Falnaro nods his thanks to her, though doesn't look up as he remembers the names he had read on the reports. He remembered them all. In fact in one of his families hidden away manors was a room dedicated to those names, there was a weapon for each name, large or small it was shaped by the name or if a friend the memories he had.

"So instead how about why you brought an elf home, mother?" Avulstein asks and Falnaro finally looks up calm and relaxed as he could be. His eyes glittered still but he no longer was on the verge of tears. He was curious as well, as he knew it the Thalmor were hated and nord were not known for their kindness regarding outsiders.

"He had nowhere to go, and he stood up to that Battle-Born brat that follows Olfrid like a foul smell." She states and Falnaro blushes as the others look to Eorlund for confirmation before giving him surprised looks.

"You hate the Thalmor… I guess that means you're alright. Unless you decide to support the Empire." Avulstein says and Falnaro rolls his eyes skyward.

"Avulstein!" Fralia snaps sharply causing the eldest to wince. But everyone looks at Falnaro.

'I was helped by Ulfric Stormcloak himself, I also hate what the Empire has become. I fully intend to stay out of the fighting. I support the ideals of Ulfric's fight, I just don't want more memories or to lose any more friends.' Falnaro signs looking uncomfortable until Thorald nods.

"Seems a logical choice given your background." Thorald states though he is curious about the elf. The Hero of Kvatch living and breathing, so much he could learn, see what was rumor and what was fact. Falnaro nods and Eorlund's sharp look quiets Avulstein from going to debate. Falnaro sends him a thankful look. After some time it just descended into family talk and bickering as Fralia cooked dinner. Falnaro thanked her when she handed him a bowl though he was surprised. As they ate he was actually regaled with tales from Eorlund and Vignar's days and other family stories that made him smile and even relaxed enough to share a few of his own siblings and daughter, he forced himself to ignore it all but the happy parts.

"So your siblings, how many?" Thorald asks and Falnaro smiles a tad bit. He had four younger siblings, and had a twin but so few of those memories were happy.

'I had two younger brothers, two younger sisters, and a twin brother, but I prefer not to talk about him. Few fond memories, he died young.' Falnaro signs looking down his smile fading.

"we had an older brother." Thorald says making the elf look up. Avulstein goes to say something but Thorald cuts him off, "Older." He says and Eorlund goes ridged.

"Their eldest brother was killed by the Battle-Borns. Thy claimed he attacked Jon, but those two were fast friends and Jon even tried to say he hadn't seen our son at all that day. Really this feud was started by them." Eorlund growls. It makes Falnaro shudder, he remembered that sound and look from his own father many years ago.

'That is unsettling.' Falnaro notes and they all nod. Thorald can't help his curiosity.

"What happened to your twin, I know you don't like to talk about it, but something had to have been off if he died when you were kids right?" Thorald asks and Falnaro closes his eyes but nods, even after hundreds of years the pain was sharp and felt raw and fresh.

'He was born deaf like I was born mute. Other children picked on us constantly but he got to the point it was too much. A young she elf lead him on and then broke all ties with him turned him into a larger joke. He committed suicide on our seventeenth birthday. He gave me a note and told me to open it when he gave me the signal, not thinking much of it as we both did things like this constantly if we wanted to surprise each other with little poems or pick me ups. He jumped off the roof. I opened it when I had heard the news I was in a daze, had I opened it sooner…' Falnaro signs shaking his head sadly actually crying at this. His face in his hands as he sobbed his body shaking. It hurt so much, he missed his twin, would still look for him only to see he wasn't there. His twin and he were close not to the point they were together like some but still they were close.

"You were close." Thorald states and Falnaro nods unable to look up. He feels a hand rub soothingly at his back and jerks looking up to see it's Thorald who's moved his chair to sit next to him. He swallows thickly trying to work the knot out of his throat even though he was mute, it was still an uncomfortable feeling. He looked at Thorald in thanks.

'We were by no means gemini twins, we did not sleep with each other, nor were we identical. But, yes, we were extremely close. The myth behind the idea twins can feel emotions from each other is founded on some truth, we can be close enough most of the time that we don't feel right without our twin. My younger siblings would attest to that. They were always off kilter without their matching twin.' Falnaro says feeling even more tired than he had been. Emotional drain adding to the physical.

"Alright, I think it's time to turn in. Follow me dear. Vignar stays up at the Hall, so you can take his old room." Fralia says showing the elf to the room. He thanks her then Falnaro sets his two bags in a corner and sits on the bed a little unsure of what to do but he takes off his boots and sets the blade he had on him to the side leaning against the bed at an easy reach. He closes his eyes and sleep claims him like night falling on Nirn.

A/N: Note for those who got confused this 'text' means Falnaro or someone else is signing, or using their hands to speak, this "text" meant they were just speaking. Any more questions? Leave them in a review or PM me.