By the time they reached the edge of the field again it was already starting to get dark, and Dannon was itching to get back to the house to make sure her father had recovered. Usually if an attack was going to return it would have done so while she was still at the farm, but she always worried whenever she was away too long. Being the sole carer for her father was a huge responsibility, and one that weighed heavily on her mind at all times. But, at seeing the field almost cleared of its weeds and debris, she felt a surge of happiness and hope too as the pair strode home laden with mushrooms and bark.
When they reached the door of the house she hesitated, unsure what to do with Sathyn. She wanted to invite the elf in to eat, but she was also worried that it was far too soon to have her father meet the new hand. After a moment she pushed on the bleached wood of the door and the pair walked into the warmth of the house.
At the center of the room she could see her father, who was obviously feeling better than before, as he had managed to move himself over to the chair that stood by the hearth. In the firelight he looked haggard and even older than he was, but she was grateful to the world that he was okay.
"Father?" she called tentatively.
He looked around, but his eyes settled only on her, despite the five inches of height the elf had on Dannen.
"We were out collecting herbs for your medicines. I'm sorry I got home later than normal, I'll get the food ready right now."
She found herself bumbling like a child under his gaze, and hurried over to the corner of the room which she liked to think of as her alchemy lab, where she deposited her takings from the trip. Compared to the one in the Mage's Guild it was more of a stained bench, but it was enough for the petty alchemy she was used to performing.
Next she pulled pots and jars down from the wall cupboards on either side of the mantle, and began to throw together a spiced mushroom soup - the only reliable food source they currently possessed.
All the while her father took no notice at all of Sathyn, although with her dark clothes and odd coloring she seemed to melt into the shadows anyway. It gave Dannen a strange feeling, as though Sathyn wasn't standing in the room at all, except when she purposefully looked towards her.
As the pot began to boil the silence stretched on, and Dannen wasn't quite sure what the best way to break it would be. She was weighing her options between either introducing Sathyn, and risking her father's outright rejection, or simply highlighting her presence by talking to her…and risk alienating her father even more. It was a difficult situation, but at least the pair seemed content in their silence while she decided.
She sighed a little into the fire. The day had been too long, too difficult and too unplanned for. Once the soup was ready she began to ladle it out. Her father took his bowl without meeting her eyes, staring fixedly at the fire. Sathyn murmured her thanks, but other than that the silence stretched on.
"Where were you planning on staying?" she asked the elf at last. "I can still make up a bed for you in here."
Her red eyes flicked to Dannen's fathers face and she shook her head slightly.
"I'll make camp nearby. I have all the things I need with me. "
"You really don't have to do that." Dannen protested.
"I like to be able to come and go, and I wouldn't want to disturb you."
"If you're sure."
She felt awkward. She was certain that the only reason her new employee would be sleeping outside for the whole night was her father's frostiness. She was glad at least that Sathyn was the kind of person who seemed to know what they were doing outside alone. There were bears out in the woods, she knew, and while she had never seen one news would occasionally reach the town of travelers and merchants out on the road who had been mauled and killed. Or at least, it was probably a bear that was the culprit. She had also heard tales about more frightening and exotic creatures such as trolls.
A moment later the elf scooped up the last of her vegetable broth and took to her feet.
"I'd better be going if I'm going make myself a fire, and find a good place to camp."
"I'll take you to the gate - there are a few marshy areas you'll want to avoid that I can point out." she replied.
The elf nodded her head in thanks, and pushed open the door so that Dannen could go ahead of her.
Outside the sky was already black, and while there were a few stars out, there was no moon at all. It didn't look like a good night for camping at all, especially for one who knew nothing about the lay of the land.
"Really, you can stay. It might even help my father get used to you."
"I was serious when I said it was my preference to be able to come and go as I wish, so please, don't worry about me. And don't worry about your father - he's proud, but as soon as he realizes you're serious he'll find some excuse for himself to feel better about it."
"I hope so." she said as she leant against the gate that separated the farm from the road. "If you really are serious about camping, then that marshy area I was talking about is down there in that clearing."
"Thank you again."
With so little light Sathyn's pale skin almost made her look like a human, and her red eyes seemed black. As she smiled, Dannen found herself wondering what she would look like with imperial coloring, but with her sculpted elven features it still looked oddly unnatural.
"Well, goodbye then."
They nodded at each other briefly, and parted."Wait a minute."
Dannen turned back from her way down the path to listen.
"That sword above the fire. Do you think you could get it to use for practice?"
She shrugged awkwardly. She was still unsure about the idea of learning how to use a sword - the fear of hurting herself was not quite yet being overruled by the countless stories of blade-wielding heroes she loved so much. The sword itself was also another separate issue. It had hung above the fire for as long as she could remember: a glass sword that was neither green nor blue, a color she had in fact never seen anywhere else. Her father had brought it home from his younger days of adventuring, and never had it left its pride of place. She was sure it would not be well received if she were to touch it, let alone allow Sathyn to use it.
"I don't know if that would be such a good idea. It's valuable, and I think my father would think even worse of me - and you - if he found out we'd been playing around with it."
Sathyn raised her eyebrows.
"Playing? Maybe I shouldn't teach you if you're going to think of it as a game."
"That's not what I meant. It's not mine alright?"
Unsurprisingly this line of protest had no impact on the elf. It's wasn't a wide stretch of the imagination to see her stealing a thing or two, and for a fleeting second Dannen wondered if the whole day had been some kind of plot to rob the house. But that was stupid: everyone knew they had nothing worth stealing. It would be much more time effective to run a scheme up in the town where people actually had things worth having.
"Of course, but you're not stealing it." said the elf dismissively. "Not even borrowing it. You're moving it a yard to the left for a few minutes. But if you really don't want use to use that one you can save up for one of your own I suppose."
Dannen might not have been convinced about swordplay, but she knew for a fact that she would never be able to afford a sword of her own. Even the cheapest, dullest swords for sale were around 45 septims, and they were the kind the bent when you hit them against things.
And deep down she wanted to learn. Something about the day had kicked off a spark of adventure, and her life had changed so much in a day already. It seemed almost the natural progression of things to sneak into the house at night and practice swordplay with her father's blade.
"Okay, I guess it is the best option."
The mer nodded in approval. Dannen had half expected some kind if triumph, but her expression was calm, simply acknowledging that the Imperial.
"When do you think the best time to begin would be? It will have to be at a time when your father won't notice. You're probably right about him not liking the idea of me pawing over his stuff."
"Oh that's easy. Because of his illness I have to give him medicines to help him sleep. He won't wake up until after dawn once he falls asleep."
The pair suddenly smiled as the plan fell into place.
"That's perfect for us then." said Sathyn.
"You should come back in a couple of hours."
She nodded once, and turned on her heel, walking out into the darkness to make camp.
Knowing that she was about to do something she shouldn't made the hours drag on as she sat in silence with her father. His disapproval was like a thick blanket over the entire room, his face set in a grim expression that never changed. She had tried to make cleaning and putting away the pans last as long as she could, but she was done far before the two hours were up, and she was forced to sit by the fire in silence, anxiety and anticipation washing over her, although she tried her hardest not to show it.
Eventually he shuffled over to his bed, and she was left alone to contemplate her decision. Above the hearth the sword gleamed in the firelight, alternating between inviting and foreboding in her mind.
It was another hour at least before the soft knock finally came , and she hurried to open to open the door. In the doorway stood Sathyn, her featured picked out by the flickering firelight, she looked like an ominous portent of doom, with her hood covering her face, and the red of her eyes glowing. She quickly stepped through the threshold and Dannen had to move out of the way as she moved straight for the sword. Appraisingly, she touched its blade with her fingertips.
"I think this is the perfect sword for you to learn with. Light, strong, well balanced by the look of it." she said softly.
Dannen nodded silently, worried about waking her father even though she knew he was fast asleep - the herbs she gave him in his mead to soothe his pains and nightmares always caused him to sleep soundly. But she was worried that by touching the blade Sathyn would somehow rouse him from his bed. In fact she had never known him to wake earlier than about dawn for years now, but still there was that cold worry left over from her childhood about disobeying him. Which even though she wasn't the one holding the blade, she was sure she was.
The elf gently pulled the sword upwards and outward, freeing it from the brackets that had held it fast against the wall for so long. For a second it had seemed stuck, reluctant to leave its place dominating the room, but then it slid as easily if it hadn't been held at all.
With an appreciating, almost reverent eye Sathyn held it aloft. Dannen had seen a blade quite like this before - even though it had hung above the fire on every day of her life, Dannen had never appreciated just how beautiful the sword was. The newly released glass blade reflected every shadow, and shone straight through with the light of the fire. She wasn't sure if it was the cut of the material , or the flickering of the flames that was causing it, but it seemed like there were changing colors deep in its heart. It reminded her of stories of dragon slayers and heroes with legendary weapons that had names and souls of their own. It seemed then, in the nighttime moment, that this could have been one of those swords.
She didn't know where it had come from, but something that otherworldly surely had more of an interesting tale to tell than anything it has viewed from her mantelpiece. Her father also, no doubt, had more of an interesting tale to tell than he had ever told her to have taken ownership of it.
In silence the elf slowly turned the blade in an arc, light striking its facets and showering sparks of color off into the corners of the room, then offered the hilt to Dannon.
It was heavy, and a little too wide for her hand to grip comfortably. No doubt it had been made with a full-grown man in mind, and at barely eighteen she was neither of those things. But the most unusual thing were the waves of cold coming from the metal, and underneath that a faint thrum of magicka, like the purr of a cat or the first, low warning-growl of something meaner.
"It's too heavy" she whispered, wanting to give it back but not stupid enough to push it back in case she somehow cut either of them.
"It's not, believe me. Glass is about as light as wood - you're just feeling the weight of the hilt. Trust me, you'll be able to hold it without me."
Dannon looked doubtful. The blade was long and thick, and looked like it would weigh much more than Sathyn had promised it would. But she nodded to say that she was ready to support its weight, although not before hissing: "If it is, and I drop it, I blame you for any lost toes."
This seemed to dispel the growing feeling of significance and ceremony that had begun to form in the air, and with that the dunmer relinquished her hold, letting the full weight of the sword rest on Dannen's palm for the first time.
Sathyn had been right: the blade was deceptively light, and the way it felt anchored in her hand filled her with a bit more confidence. She gently bounced the blade to test its weight, and would have taken a swing if there had been enough space inside the house.
"It's lighter than I thought it would be."
"I know. Still heavy enough to give you aching arms after a few days of practice, but you'll soon be moving it as easily as you would your arm."
Dannon looked up, tearing her eyes away from the mesmerizing color in the blade. The sword was having a strange effect on her, giving her almost a sense of confidence just from handling it. It was power, in its more primitive form, and it was banishing her hesitancy and fears. She no longer felt the need to keep her voice so low, or even any real worries about carrying the weapon out in the woods. The power of the blade she was holding in her hand was one she instantly felt a longing to control.
"When do you think we should start?" she said, trying not to sound overly eager. "I mean, how can we get away with practicing with it without my father noticing?"
Sathyn smiled thinly, making her oddly colored lips stretch to a pale purple-blue.
"That is the problem, and I can only see one real solution - we'll have to practice at night. If there were some way to give your father his mead earlier, or if we were to make torches and put them in the ground outside after nightfall? Although that might just attract the attention of something you're not ready to take on." She laughed a short, throaty laugh. "But until then, we can use sticks while out on our walks looking for herbs."
Dannen was half afraid, and half offended by this, however conflicting she knew the emotions to be. On one hand the idea of leaving the safety of her home after dark was terrifying, but on the other the bolstering effect of the sword made her feel that the use of sticks was somehow insulting.
"But why would I need sticks, I mean, it's hardly the same. I wouldn't learn anything you wouldn't have to reteach me with the sword rather than a stick," she protested, trying not to sound sulky.
"Of course you would. For someone who was afraid to touch a sword three minutes ago you've got a lot of confidence in your swordsmanship. Tell me, if I were to come at you with a sword, how would you move your blade to block mine?"
Dannen wanted to answer, but held her tongue. Sathyn was right, she didn't really know anything practical or theoretical, but she still felt deeply disappointed that her new found dreams of skill and heroism had been reduced to fencing with sticks like children.
"Don't worry," said the elf, hefting the sword out of her grip and placing it skillfully back over the mantle. "It's how everyone starts, and believe me, with the bruises you'll get you'll be glad I didn't insist on anything sharper."
Her eyes still lingered on the sword as it reclaimed pride of place with an air of smugness. She couldn't really remember how it had felt to fear it now, the longing to know how to wield it with as much skill as Sathyn had taken its place. It promised her that she could be more than she was.
Following her gaze Sathyn shook her head slightly, and made her way to the door.
"Better get to bed, you'll need your rest if we're to get to starting you off on your way to dragon slaying and maiden rescuing." she said as she turned.
Dannon grunted, as if she were angry, but she was already caught up in the idea of being a hero, just like in the stories she had loved so much since childhood. Suddenly a question popped into her mind and she called out for Sathyn to stop.
"Why are you doing this anyway?" she asked.
"Because it's stupid to go out alone not knowing how to use a sword. And you're paying me to help out around here aren't you? Seems like something which will keep me in a job once that field is clear."
"Ah, okay. Goodnight then." she finished.
"Goodnight".
The elf waved slightly as she left the house, closing the door behind her.
When Sathyn woke the next day she opened her eyes to a sky of pink and gold clouds. A sound had woken her that was out of place in the woods - faint, but distinct.
There were footfalls crossing the ground on the other side of the trees which shielded her camp from prying eyes. But while hurried there was no indication that the walker was trying to be secretive, and so she relaxed a little. She wondered if she should just go back to sleep a little while longer, but curiosity and a healthy survalist's suspicion prompted her to her feet.
Her movements were fluid and silent, and she passed through the bank of trees in a crouch so as not to be seen.
It was Dannen who had woken her, clutching armfuls of leather pouches and bottles. Her sharp sense of smell caught wafts of the pungent herbs they had picked the day before coming from them. Just the healing potions she had talked about the day before.
Again she felt the urge to go back to her cooling bedroll, her curiosity satisfied. But now she had another curiosity building, the urge to find out what Dannen was doing, and also what kind of person she was dealing with. She had chosen the imperial for various reasons, her isolation, inexperience and romanticism being important factors. But there were sparks of a stronger personality she had seen the day before that were more unwelcome and unexpected.
She liked to know people better than they did themselves, to predict their actions, to know how to control them if she needed to. It was an old habit - but one she doubted she would ever no longer need - and Dannen was proving to be more interesting than anticipated.
So she set off, keeping the head of dark blonde hair always in view, always remaining hidden herself.
When they reached the castle gates things became a little less easy. She was forced to cast in invisibility spell as the guards let the doors close behind her mark. Spells of the caliber were always taxing, regardless of how many times she had cast them. Illusion was her favorite discipline, but other then conjuration it was the one she found hardest to perform. It was probably because of her race. The dunmer were naturals at destruction magic, as much as she detested the discipline, and illusion and conjuration were both creation in a way. The exact opposite of her born aptitude. Still feeling the tingle of the spell she only just managed to slip between the closing doors and inside the town walls.
Her pursuit ended at the gates of the Chapel of Stendarr as she felt her spell flutter and die, so instead of repeating her trick and following she scaled the stone wall, watching through the stained glass and listening close.
Luckily the town was still asleep, because even her sharp, elven ears struggled to pick up their hushed voices from inside.
"I'm sorry Dannen, I simply can't take all of these. I've barely sold half of what you brought me last time. "
The voice was deep and husky, and from what Dannen could make out the figure was either an orc, or a very unfortunately shaped Breton. Almost certainly an orc though.
"Please Orag, you know how much my father and I rely on your kindness."
"I am sorry. Times are hard here too. The congregation have barely anything to give to support us. In troubled times like these everyone is worried about where the next loaf of bread is coming from. First it was the Red Mountain and then the Argonian invasion in Morrowind, and now chancellor Ocato is assassinated just as peace seemed to be in our grasp. Everyone is afraid that what has happened to Morrowind is on the cusp of happening to us."
Sathyn felt an old familiar pain at these words. Sometimes it was easy to forget the destruction in her home country. She had been young when her family had been lured to Cyrodill, but she still remembered it all. It gave her a strange empty feeling that she would never be able to go back. After everything she had seen and done it had always seemed like returning to Morrowind would be like returning to her childhood. That sanctuary was gone.
"I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do for you. You can try at the mage's guild…the price won't be as good but it's something. We must thank the divines for everything we have, Dannen."
The rest was too muffled for even the elf to pick up, and a moment later the imperial passed through the door beneath her and off into the town. There was certainly something different about her walk, as though whatever happened had sucked out some kind of vitality from her movements.
Sathyn sat on the cold stone a little while longer, a plan forming.
The bottles and powder sacks had been heavy on the walk to the chapel, but as she turned away from its doors they seemed at least three times as heavy as they had before. She had gotten up so early to make her potions and salves that she had a headache, and it was all for nothing.
She relied on the partial charity of Orag gra-Bargol's overly fair prices to buy supplies in the town, and it seemed that she would no longer be able to do it. Of course she could trade with the other vendors, but it would be for much, much less than she had hoped. The general stores would drive her to the ground to make a profit, and the Mage's Guild would hardly pay a good price for potions which they could make of a better quality themselves.
But of all the things she could do, the Mage's Guild was probably the best option - while not a charity they did try to encourage arcane talents. Perhaps they would try to make it worth her while 'practicing' by way of encouragement.
She carried her load up to the Mage's Guild steps, and sat down to watch the world go by until they opened for trade. She wished she had brought her book with her. It was about a hero with a magic sword which turned any foe cut with it into some kind of animal.
So much for my sword practice though, she thought. The sword is probably the next thing we're going to have to sell.
The price she got for her efforts was barely half of what she had hoped. The high elf had been very kind to her, but she knew that compared to a master like him her potions were nearly worthless. Being in the guild house always made her wish she could learn to be a better alchemist, or even learn a spell or two, but that took cash. People didn't train for free, and instructional books were expensive.
All in all she had about 25 gold pieces in her pocket, from which she needed to buy vegetables, apples, meat and thread. It was enough, but not for long. With this amount of gold being made she would have to go out to the clearing far more often, and find new sources of ingredients to tide them over until the fields began to yield crops again. She barely had any time for all the things she needed to do as it was.
When she got to the market it was worse than she had anticipated - half the usual traders simply weren't there, and those that were had hiked their prices immensely. Almost every stall stood next to two empty ones, and the townsfolk were mobbing those that had their wares set out, buying far more than was usual. One old man who passed her by could hardly hold all of the vegetables he was carrying.
Confused, she grabbed the arm of a passing guard.
"What's going on here? Where's Balin, Riccarido, Nellin?"
He shook his head in response, looking grim.
"There's trouble on the roads to east, looks like no one is able - or maybe dares to risk - getting through."
"Trouble? What kind of trouble?" she asked.
She was suddenly reminded of Orag's words hours before. Could the Argonians actually be invading Cyrodill?
"From what I hear it's a great wave of refugees and war-wounded evacuating from Morrowind. They're not allowed to cross the border of course, but you've have to have a black soul to send them back if you ask me. All the same, this is all that's managed to come through. Things will probably be back to normal by next week."
Dannen nodded, relieved. If it was only temporary then she wasn't in as much difficulty as she had feared. And no invading Argonians was always nice.
Instead of her usual shopping she got only turnips and apples. The healer had told her that her father needed to eat the fruits to keep up his strength, so she was glad that they had not gone up in price as much as she feared. It was a local crop, and there was still a lot of competition for her gold in the square. The thread on the other hand was nowhere to be seen, and the price of meat had rocketed.
Even though she hadn't bought much, but by the time she got home her arms were aching again all the same, and one of the apples was bruised badly where it had fallen on the way. She had rubbed it and picked most of the grit out but it was only just salvageable. She was going to have to make something with it, or else her father would never eat it. He hated apples, and having them become part of his mandatory diet hadn't helped things.
When she got to the fields she stopped, looking puzzled. It was nearly midday and Sathyn was not yet working in the field. She hoped 'freedom to come and go' did not mean that she was going to start working patchily and still expect pay.
She passed through the door of the house, and gently as she could let the vegetables spill out onto the tabletop she used for cooking. It was right next to her alchemy spot, and she was always careful that the two never met. Deathbell petals in your soup and onion juice in your potions never ended well.
"You're home."
She smiled widely at her father. A fresh new day seemed to have helped to list his mood, because while not happy, his expression was not the grim, stormy one of the night before.
"Yes. I've been to get apples."
Her father couldn't hide his disgust at that, and eyed the apples with mild hostility.
"But where is everything else?" he asked, puzzled.
Dannen's smile faded for a moment, but then a realization struck her - this was exactly the kind of wake up call her father needed. She decided to be blunt and honest.
"We don't have enough money anymore. The chapel can't buy any more of my potions, and I can't get much more than 60 septims a week without their support. I can't go out more than I do, I'm needed here, and even if I can make time, there just aren't enough plants out there that I can use. There's no way I can afford to buy meat or anything like that anymore"
Her father looked concerned for a moment, but then waved her off.
"Don't worry about that. We have plenty of things we can do without to get us through hard times."
"Well the only thing I can see that we have left to sell in your sword, and then what?" she scowled.
"My…my sword?" her father looked at the sword above the mantle with worry in his eyes.
"There has to be something else we can sell."
"There isn't."
Secretly she was glad that her father hadn't demanded that that be exactly what they should do. She had held it once and she knew that she had to do it again. Even if she mastered swordplay she knew she'd never get a chance to wield something so beautiful and unique as the blade her father owned.
"And that's why you're going to have to accept that Sathyn and I are going to be running the farm from now on." she said with finality.
"Pfft. You think that you can run the farm? And what are you thinking, trusting a stranger in our house, and a dark elf too. I was worrying about you all evening last night."
Dannen was about to reply when the door swung open to reveal Sathyn herself, and over her shoulder was slung a deer, an arrow sticking through its throat surrounded by a bloom of dark red staining its white bib, and another slit down the length of its belly.
"I'm sorry, I tried to knock but it swung open." she said shifting its weight.
At once her father swung his head away from her and to the wall, and his face returned to its sullen expression.
Dannen rushed forward and helped her to lower the carcass to the ground.
"You went out hunting?"
"Yes, I shot it in the forest this morning. I was wondering if you wanted to share it with me. It's far too much for one"
Dannen was filled with gratitude. It seemed like Sathyn was turning out to be the key to getting back on their feet in every way. There was enough meat to feed them all for the rest of the week.
"That…thank you." she said. Her father said nothing.
The mer nodded to her, and turned out of the doorway towards the field, where she heard her immediately get to work.
"So she's a hunter," he said at last, looking down at the deer lying on the dirt floor.
"So it seems. She hasn't said what she does exactly, but it seems to me like she's a hand-for-hire for a range of things."
"Hmph. It's a good eye that can make a shot like that. Of course being an elf gives her something of an advantage…."
Dannen suddenly realized why her father seemed to be less set against Sathyn. If there was one thing her father respected, it was someone who could handle themselves in combat. She decided to take advantage of his relative talkativeness and try and do as much pushing in the right direction as she could.
"It's not just archery, she's good with blades too apparently."
"A strong sword arm as well, huh?" he said, eyes flicking again to the sword above the mantle.
"I may not hold with this idea of trying to farm, but having someone around who knows how to keep off wolves and bears might not be such a bad thing."
If she hadn't had been turned away from her father, putting away the apples, he would have seen her smile. Already he was starting to change his mind.
That evening, full of venison and happiness, Dannen waited for her next sword lesson with anticipation. After eating together Sathyn had told her that tonight they would begin with some simple training. She sat and stared at the sword with longing, unable to concentrate on her book at all. She was a little afraid of the dark, but she simply hadn't been able to tell Sathyn to wait until the next herb gathering trip. She had to start now or die of excitement.
At last there came a hard, loud knock at the door which made her jump almost out of the chair. Annoyed, she answered the door.
"What do you think you're doing? What if you'd woken my father up?" she demanded indignantly. She was more confident now about what she was doing, but she was not fool enough to forget how much was at stake if her father found out what was going on.
"You said he never wakes up until dawn, remember? But now we know for sure it's true. If that didn't wake him up then we can practice without worrying." said the elf with a half smile.
She had a point, and Dannen decided not to press it. Instead she moved back into the room to get the sword.
"Wait, you won't be needing that." she called.
Dannen turned back confused, and saw that Sathyn was holding up a pair of long sticks. The bark had been stripped from them with a knife, and each was about the width of her thumb.
"We'll practice with these for now."
"Ah."
The clearing Sathyn had set up was small, but well lit by torches which she had pushed deep into the earth. The flickering firelight made her feel even more like she was beginning some kind of adventure.
The training was tough, and even though the night was cold Dannen didn't feel it. She was learning how to move with the stick as 'an extension of her body', which Sathyn was teaching her with a rigorous course of dashing around hitting any object she called out as soon as possible. At first it had seemed ridiculous, like a little kids game, but she was beginning to see the point. When they started she had been stopping and almost poking at the things with her stick, but the more she did, it the faster and more fluid her moments became. She was learning how to make contact without stopping, when to extend her arm and how to lock her elbow into place. Still she wanted to learn some combat moves.
"Sathyn I'm exhausted." she gasped. "Can't we do something combat based? How about that blocking thing you mentioned last night."
Sathyn looked at her appraisingly, and shrugged."You'll have to work up your stamina a lot more, but I can't see why we can't teach you something different while you take a break."
Dannen soon found out that blocking wasn't much of a break at all. She was battered, jarred and bruised by Sathyn's casual hits, and she didn't seem to be improving at all. The elf was a true master. Her arm moved as though it were connected to her own thoughts, sliding around her parries and blocks like she were fighting in slow motion. She saw now why sticks were a far better idea than swords for learning.
"Am I improving at all?" she asked as a particularly hard hit bounced off her shoulder.
"Some. Don't expect too much too soon, you'll only get discouraged."
Sathyn span away from the one-sided fight and sat on a fallen pine trunk and Dannen finally was able to let her aching arms fall to her sides.
"I know, it's just hard when we're so unevenly matched."
"Ha, if you're thinking like that try this - when you fight everyone else they will seem easy to beat." the dunmer laughed a little, and Dannen couldn't help but grin. Dark elves were always so arrogant.
