Twenty years after the Oblivion Siege of the Imperial City…

In the city of Balmora, the streets of the market district seemed congested with people. The sun had reached its high point in its daily journey across the sky. In one corner of said district, located a short walk from the main street, there sat a lone Dunmer. His attire was simple: a robe of cheap but durable stone-colored cloth. He wore a wide-brimmed straw hat atop his head that kept his face in shadow and out of sight. On his back was strapped a spear of black metal but in his hands was held a lute. Sitting on the ground, his legs folded, the Dunmer, without the need of an audience, began to play a stirring, powerful ballad, accompanying it with his voice.

Nerevar, Nerevar,

Hero of Morro,

slayer of evil,

and ender of sorrow.

Nerevar, Nerevar,

what hope you have brung,

what challenges you have fought,

and what peace you have sung.

Nerevar, Nerevar,

Pilgrimage head,

leader of followers,

through darkness they tread.

Nerevar, Nerevar,

you act as their light,

cast hope upon worthy,

while others you Smite.

Nerevar, Nerevar,

what power you have,

the bestowings of many,

make the armor you clad.

Nerevar, Nerevar,

with the might you have obtained,

you could send Nirn to your feet,

yet humble you remain.

Nerevar, Nerevar,

with three hundred at command,

you entered Red Mountain,

and sought out His dark hand.

And Nerevar, Nerevar,

with courage undeterred,

you rose over darkness,

and slew Dagoth Ur.

In years that proceeded,

much more has occurred,

the Siege of Cyrodiil,

through your might it was purged.

But now you have vanished,

to where I not know,

but I sing in the hopes,

that again you shall show.

The Dunmer signified he had finished his song by placing his lute to his side on the ground. As he did, he noticed something he had not whilst playing: he gained an audience of one. Lifted his head slightly, he looked up to look into the eyes of he who stopped to listen: a small Redguard boy, perhaps no more than ten years of age.

The Dunmer gave the child a slight smile. "Did the young one enjoy my ballad?" he asked.

The youngling shrugged his shoulders in response. "It was ok, I suppose," he replied bluntly.

"I thank you for your words… but perhaps there is more you can thank me with?" The Dunmer then slid his left foot forward to give two light kicks of the hat of loose septums that was placed on the ground in front of him.

"Uh, sorry, sir, but I just spent my money for the day on this," said the boy, holding up the sweet roll in his right hand.

"… I see," whispered the Dunmer in slight irk. "Well, I thank you for your appreciation of my song regardless. Now, if you will excuse me," he continued as he sat up from the ground with lute in hand, "I shall see if other parts of this city are more generous with their loose currency. Good day to you, child."

As the Dunmer began to walk off to the North, the youngling stopped him. "Wait, sir, I have a question!"

The elf turned back to the child. "Indeed?" he asked.

"That person you were singing about, 'Nerevar,' is he real?"

Surprised by the boy's question, the elf literally took a step backwards from shock. "Is he real?" he repeated in disbelief. The Dunmer then crouched down to eye level with the young Redguard. "My little youngling, what in Oblivion do they teach you in your schools these days?"

"I was schooled by my mother and father," the boy stated. "They taught me all that I know."

The Dunmer gave a smirk, knowing what the boy's statement conveyed. Having traveled much of Tamriel, the Dunmer knew the land well. He knew that the races of this land, while they co-existed in relative peace with each other, were for the most part oblivious to each other's religions. The Dunmer saw this child as a perfect example of such ignorance.

"I see…" said the Dunmer. "Well, youngling, let me tell you that the one I sung of, Nerevar, is real. He walked among the people of Vvardenfell a long time ago, perhaps at least twice your lifespan ago. During that time, there did exist and evil by the name of Dagoth Ur, and Nerevar, the reincarnation of the long dead Hero Indoril Nerevar, rose from anonymity and vanquished the dark hand of Dagoth Ur.

Have you, at the very least, been taught of Dagoth Ur?" When the child shook his head in response, the Dunmer could not help but shake his head. "What has Nirn come to?" he mused aloud. "The younger generations know not of the past, what molded the very world they live in…

Oh, I apologize. I wished not to place blame upon you, child. I am nothing more than an aging man who, perhaps, clings too tightly to the past… Is that all you wished to ask me, young one?"

"Um… How do you know all this about Nerevar?"

The Dunmer smiled and gave a light chuckle. "Because," he replied, "I was once a close ally to Nerevar himself."

"You were? What was he like?"

"Hmm… He was, in many ways, a common man of common thought… but he was more than a man. He was courageous, pure of heart, and willing to sacrifice himself, if need be, to ensure the protection of others. He was a good friend…"

"Um, sir? That last part of your song: you said that you do not know where he is. Is that true as well?"

"Indeed it is. After the Siege of Cyrodiil, 'The Oblivion Siege,' I left him to become an adventurer; to travel the lands and see all that there is to see of Nirn. I have not seen him since the day I left him. Where he is I know not, but I do not worry for him too much." Returning to a stand, the Dunmer looked upward to the cloudless sky above. "I know he is safe, wherever he may be…"

"… Hey, sir," said the young Redguard, "your eyes look weird. Are you blind or something?"

Voicing a laugh, the Dunmer looked back down to the lad's face. "In a manner of speaking…" he replied.


Author's Notes: Figure out who it is yet? Well, if that last part didn't give it away... you obviously haven't been reading the first two stories well enough! GO BACK AND DO IT OVER!

Ok, joking aside, for those who haven't figured it out, the bard was none other than Varon Varvur. As he said, after the events of the second book, he decided to take on the life of an adventurer. We know that Varon never enjoyed his posh life within Castle Ebonheart, so this is in stark contrast to the life he once lived. In fact, it can be viewed as the exact opposite. Either way, he seems content with such a simplistic living, so who are we to judge?

This is but the first part to our chronicles. More shall be posted in the future, I promise you. Keep in-touch for future installments...