Holy crapoly, it's been a while. Thank you guys for the reviews, sorry it took so long for me to make the second chapter to this thing. This chapter is also a little brief, but it's also the second and final part to the prologue, which I'm trying to keep shorter so I can delve into the main story and relevant characters. The next chapter will be taking place in current times, or when the game Skyrim takes place. However, that doesn't mean I'm done exploring Ancient Falmer society, so I promise I will continue to explore what I think it would have been like even more in the future. I'll also definitely work on the next chapter ASAP. School and work have calmed down recently, giving me a lot more free time to explore my creative interests. So that's what I'll be doing. Anyway, enjoy the chapter, thanks so much for your support.
The quiet of the morning was marred by the Aldmer marching from the gates of the City of Aushanar. Celegriath watched them go from the stables. A long golden line of elves seemed to move as a cohesive unit away from the Snow Elf's home, away from the threat of war. The Aldmer were practiced, rehearsed, and uniform in almost all things. Even in retreat. The Knight looked away and grimaced. He couldn't be too bitter, it was the most logical strategy. Still, the feeling of betrayal sat uncomfortably inside of him, and all the logic in the world couldn't remove it.
He turned away from his thoughts and adjusted the saddle on his stag, Gandro. He was a beautiful beast, with long antlers, but not disproportionately so. He was half a foot taller than Celegriath, and quite intimidating to the Nords he charged against years ago. But now he was not preparing to charge into battle, he was preparing to meet the enemy under peaceful terms. He did not sleep the night before. How could he? He knew the end was coming, Celegriath laid on his bed for hours trying to give himself some sort of closure, some way to escape the coming storm. Or maybe even a way to stop it. He was not ready to fight, he knew that much. His hands still shook uncontrollably, loud noises and even the playful screams of children would send him into a panic. He could not fight. He would not. So he came to a ridiculous conclusion. If he could not defend his homeland through combat he would defend it with his words. He had only ever traded words with one man, and was hardly fluent in their language, but he would try.
Celegriath mounted Gandro. He looked past the stable doors to the still open gate. It had begun to snow heavily, the reassuring light of the sun now passed. He slowly trotted forward.
"Where will you go?" He suddenly heard to his right as he exited the stables. Celegriath recognized Erelhin's soft voice, and responded to her whilst keeping his eyes locked on the gate.
"Wherever that Atmorans are. Towards Saarthal I suppose." She was silent after he spoke, so Celegriath looked to her. "I don't think I was ever meant to fight, Erelhin. I've never had much desire for it. I just became a knight because I thought it would be helpful to our people. So far I've been anything but helpful to anyone. But I refuse to stand idly by while the Easterners take our home from us. I have to do something, even if it kills me. We deserve life. Snow elves deserve life. I didn't always think that, especially not after what we did, but I do now."
"I'm glad. I hope you find peace out there, Celegriath, one way or another. Whatever comes to pass...know that there were those who cared for you." And with that she turned away and moved briskly along the snow covered street back towards the temple. She was firm in the way she had spoken, no longer the distraught woman Celegriath had seen in the temple yesterday. Maybe she had come to some sort of conclusion herself, the Falmer thought to himself. He half hoped she would offer to come with him, but he would tell her no either way. He wanted to do something on his own for once, with his own strength.
Celegriath cleared his mind and become once again set on his goal, eyes locked on the open gates once again. He dug his heels into Gandro, and he was off into the wildlands.
Celegriath was not a tracker. Or a scout. He reminded himself of this often as he wandered aimlessly towards where he thought Saarthal might be.
"Why didn't I grab a damn map…." He said to himself as he trotted along a trail leading to what he knew to be the east. He sighed and brought Gandro to a halt. The surrounding area seemed to be still as snow gently fell. Celegriath adjusted his cloak as he looked behind him. His home city of Aushanar was now a small speck on the side of the Mount Loren. It was beautiful, even from the long distance it was being gazed upon. It was something worth fighting for. The Knight stopped himself from giving himself another internal motivational speech. No more waiting.
A rustling to his left caught his attention immediately as he reached for his sword. Snow fell from shrubs as a small white rabbit emerged. It stopped in its tracks and looked up at Celegriath, wiggling its nose.
He brought his hands back to the reigns and grumbled a curse at the rabbit. He looked forward again, just in time to catch the sound of something whistling through the air. Out of pure instinct he ducked down, just in time for a round stone to go sailing past where his head was just moments ago. He dug his heels into the side of Gandro, racing forward, bringing his head up to get a glimpse of his current situation. He caught a glimpse of something brown behind a tree in front of him and to his right. Clegriath knew there was no way an Atmoran would be this close to home on their own. There were either more of them, or it was just an elf pulling a prank in very poor taste. The snow elf hoped it was the latter.
He decided to charge the only shape he managed to see. He had already been assaulted, so Celegriath doubted waving the white flag would spare him. Maybe if he confronted his enemy, showed them he wanted to talk. As Gandro bolted by the tree his assailant was hiding behind, Celegriath leaped off drawing his sword, catching the possible Atmoran completely by surprise. Celegriath landed on top of them, pinning them to the ground and holding a sword up to their throat, taking a good look at his would be assassin. It was a man. He was covered in layers of fur and leather armor in an attempt to stay warm, and was armed with a sling and a war axe, both of which were now lying in the snow a few feet away from him. He had braided hair on the top of his head, the rest was neatly shaved. His face was covered in dark blue war paint, and he looked furious.
"Þú munt farast!" the round eared one shouted in the Celegriath's face. The snow elf responded by pressing his sword against the man's throat and pushing his index finger to his lips. He tried to steady the shaking of his hands. 'Not now damnit,' he thought to himself as he looked up from his captive. He was surprised at himself. Celegriath expected himself to seize up as he usually did when he suffered flash backs. But he had moved fluidly and impulsively. Maybe he could fight.
Seeing no sign of anyone else, only Gandro slowly trotting back towards him, he looked back towards the man he was holding down. "What's your name?" He spoke softly, keeping his eyes along the tree line, looking for the enemy. There was little to no chance his captive spoke Falmer, but it was worth a shot.
"Fólkið þinn drap dætur mínar! Þú greiðir." The man spit the words at Celegriath, the resentment in his voice obvious.
The elf smiled slightly as he looked down at the being trapped underneath him. "Now, now, that kind of language won't get us- oof!"
Celegriath grunted loudly as he felt cold steel wrap against the back of his head. He hit the floor like a sack of cabbages .His vision slowly faded to black as he heard the loud shuffling of feet, drawing of weapons, and louds grunts from Gandro.
The snow elf groaned loudly as he awoke, feeling the worst headache in his existence. He opened his eyes slowly, to find himself face down on what seemed to be a rug. He moved to get up, finding that his hands were bound, as were his feet. Celegriath quickly looked up, only to see a large Atmoran in a large chair looking down at him.
"So, it wakes," he said in a heavily accented, butchered version of Falmer. Still, Celegriath was impressed that a man had come to learn any. "You are scout?"
The elf eyed the man before him. He had a large beard and long hair. He was wearing heavy armor, his horned helmet sitting on a table next to his chair. He had no idea who this was, but he seemed important. It was now that Celegriath realised that the two were hardly alone. Armed guards surrounded the elf in a semicircle. Things were not looking good.
"Erm, no. I was actually looking to talk to you. Or at least someone in charge. I wish to speak of peace," Celegriath said hesitantly. The King or General before him simply gave the elf a slightly confused look. Celegriath spoke again, much more slowly. "Not a scout. Negotiator."
The King laughed loudly and abruptly, the guards around joining in, although they obviously did not know what it was they were laughing about. After some time The King moved his hand and the room was silent. He stood slowly, the smile vanished from his face. Celegriath tried to appear unintimidated, but he was sure it was showing. The King picked up the spear that rested on his chair, and slowly moved towards the elf.
"Negotiation over," The King spoke in a deep and menacing voice. "Það endaði í Saarthal. Family slaughtered for stone. Elves will feel soon." He slowly moved closer and closer to Celegriath.
"Stone?! What stone?" The elf desperately tried to understand what The King could have meant by what he had just said. The man ignored his words, however, and thrust his spear into the elf's shoulder. Celegriath screamed in surprise. Blood oozed from where the spear was stuck deep into his flesh. 'Oh gods,' the falmer thought, 'they're actually going to kill me.' "Wait!" But The King once again ignored his pleas, bringing his fist across the elf's cheek, causing him to fall back on the ground, hard. Yellow spots danced across his vision as he spat blood onto the ground.
"My sons will show how elves should be treated," The King bellowed, motioning for two men of similar appearance and stature to move forward.
Celegriath lost track of events for a few moments. All he could feel were the hands and feet of men raining down upon him. His entire body felt like it was being crushed into tiny pieces. At first, he felt despair. An indescribable sadness overcame him as he felt life slipping away from his body. Was this it? Was this all there was for him and his people? He will have died doing nothing. He simply fueled the Atmoran's desire for revenge even further.
Sadness was suddenly replaced by rage. No. This was not the end. He refused to be beaten down by savages, by animals who wouldn't listen to reason. A feeling of power and heat seemed to manifest in his chest, a burning fire that was building rapidly. The sensation spread to his hands and flames erupted from them, exploding into the air, burning his bounds and most of his clothes off of his body, sending the Sons flying backwards, toppling over the guards that surrounded them.
Celegriath immediately jumped on his feet and stumbled out of the tent as men screamed and jumped to keep The King safe from the fire that now burned inside of it. What the snow elf saw chilled him to the bone. A massive army of men lay before him, all gearing for war. Siege equipment was moved to the loud chants of the soldiers pushing them about. This was the army that would destroy his home. Celegriath had to warn them.
Royal guards rushed out of the tent behind the elf as he remembered his circumstances. He casted a healing spell on his legs before running as fast as his body would allow back towards Aushanar. Men and Women looked in surprise as he darted in between them and their tents. They soon realised what was taking place, and many took up arms and gave chase as well. Celegriath scoured his surroundings as he ran, desperately looking for some place to escape to or hide. He yelped as he suddenly felt a terrible pain in his right side. He didn't have time to see what it was that got him, and continued running until he reached the woods.
Arrows whizzed by Celegriath's head as he moved in between trees, the loud clanking of armored feet close behind him.
"Auriel...help...me….." the snow elf managed to mutter out in between desperate gasps for air. His eyes widened and he stopped suddenly, seeing a large ravine with a river below before him. "Damnit!" He cried before turning around, seeing what might have been hundreds of warriors moving towards him through the woods. There was no time, no where to go. The elf cursed, and peered over the edge of the cliff. 'That fall would kill me…' the elf thought to himself before turning once again towards his impending doom. The Atmorans were but a few yards from him, their weapons drawn, eyes wild.
Celegriath jumped. He glanced back at the cliff as he fell, and saw the grimacing faces of the invaders. They did not seem surprised, only annoyed it was an elf whose death would not be caused by their own must have fallen for at least three seconds before hitting what might have been water. It felt like more like stone. Celegriath was enveloped in the fast moving currents of the river. It must have been far below freezing temperature; and yet, the elf felt quite warm as his vision once again began to darken and felt his life fade away…..
And so ends the prologue. I know, a little short again, but I didn't want the prologue to go on for a very long time, just enough to give you a taste of falmer culture and Celegriath's background. It was fun to write, but I'm glad it's out of the way so we can start getting into the juicy stuff. Again, from here we'll be moving to the dragonborn's time. I promise it'll stay interesting, and that everything that happened here was relevant. See y'all next time!