Guide:
Dwemeris
Thoughts
"Speech"
"Dovahzul"
Warnings/Disclaimer: see chapter 4
Chapter Warning(s): Dialogue-heavy chapter. Mentions of Daedric worship.
A/N: There is a REASON for this early AF update – important notice at the bottom!
Last time…
Today has been… fairly interesting, all things considered. But I am to be surprised once more, because when we're all in the inn that night, Erandur has a story of his own to tell.
Chapter 33 – Old friend
It seems like just another evening at the buzzing Silverblood Inn. It's not, really. There's at least one Daedric Champion present, not to mention the other little nugget of news I'd just gotten:
Molag Bal's artefact has also left this plane.
Thank Xrib. I hate that Prince, and I'm not one to hate something quickly – well, not anymore at least. I just can't stand for the things that bastard immortal did in the past.
Like, creating vampires, seriously... That was a terrible idea all around.
"So, I'd say we've all had quite the productive day," I laugh at I take another swig of wine, feeling the burn at the back of my throat like a warm comfort. Marcurio pouts dramatically. "I can't believe you left me alone with that Thalmor to run off on an adventure with Erik! I feel hurt, I say, betrayed!" Erandur rolls his eyes humorously even as Erik chuckles a bit.
I just give the Imperial my most shit-eating grin. "You took a liking to him, didn't you?" when no answer is forthcoming, I crow in victory. "I knew it!"
I'm glad to see that they're getting along. Or that they don't despise each other, at least.
We laugh, and then I wait, and wait a little longer, nursing my wine as long as possible as first Erik, then Erandur, and then, finally, Marcurio go off to bed. I rise and saunter over towards the Silverblood tending the bar, who gives me a raised eyebrow, knowing exactly what I'm about to ask.
"Two bottles of your best mead, please." I have an old friend to catch up with.
When I show up on the platform in front of Vlindrel Hall in the dead of night, Ondolemar is already there.
"How's my favourite superiorly bred Mer doing on this beautiful night?"
I ask jovially, keeping my voice down as I take my spot next to him. It's nice to be back here, cloaked in darkness yet comfortable since one of my first friends is sitting right next to me.
Ondolemar gives me a feeble smile, and I hand him the alcohol without another word. "I've… grown weary, lately. Having gotten the opportunity to bask in the presence of a friend such as you and then being bereft of it seems to have made me unlearn any and all emotional training the Thalmor granted me."
Uncorking the second bottle and crossing my legs underneath me, I try to figure out what that means in normal speech, having already consumed… rather too much mead and wine for one night. "So wait. Is this you telling me you missed me?" I grin at the uncomfortable elf.
Right. Emotionally stunted. Don't make it awkward. "Aye, I missed you too friend. It's been hard to find a drinking buddy who can still hold up an intelligent conversation after the first glass. Marcurio is wickedly smart, but his tolerance is… below average."
"Is that why you have to come visit your 'old friend'? Merely to drink subpar mead for hours?"
I shake my head, looking up at the surprisingly colourful night sky above. "Not at all. I came for the excellent conversation and sense of mutual trust I find so very rarely in these cold lands." The Altmer hums, taking a leisure sip from his drink before taking off his Thalmor gloves, stretching his fingers a little more comfortably. "Indeed. This… Marcurio. Do you trust him?"
"Aye, I do. I only trust him, you, and a stout woman who knows her craft back in Whiterun." He raises his eyebrow elegantly, turning his head to me and tilting it slightly, his grey hair free of the heavy hood almost gleaming like silver in the moonlight. Which isn't me being romantic, but a fact. Those high elf genes are ridiculous.
"Not the other two that accompanied you here?" I give him a thin smile, thinking on the things that transpired earlier today… or yesterday, I'm not entirely sure how late it is.
"Erik only joined us a few days ago, since he wanted to be an adventurer, I offered to take him to the nearest major hold city in order to get a mercenary job more easily. If the impression I got of the lad was correct, he'll be helping out with the Forsworn across the Reach sooner or later. And Erandur…" I pause briefly, biting my lower lip and risking a glance at the silent Mer. "Promise you'll not report me for this first."
He holds a hand over his heart, now definitely more curious and attentive than a minute ago as he eyes me through half-lidded eyes. "I hereby vow not to turn you in, whatever your secret may be, Magnus be my witness." My shoulders ease, though I hadn't even noticed they'd gotten so tense.
"Alright, alright, just… He's a priest of Mara, with quite the tale not mine to tell. He condemns all worship aimed at those… not part of official modern pantheons. For that reason alone, I cannot fully place my faith in him."
Ondolemar coughs into his sleeve as the mead goes down his windpipe by accident, probably due to his surprise. "You… worship Daedra?" I purse my lips tightly. "Keep your promise, Ondolemar… Yes and no, sort of."
Really, you know what I am, how old my culture is and how much of it has been lost.
"Sort of?"
"Well… Well, I guess I believe in Mara, since recently, as the goddess of love. But that's where similarities end. My people had a very different pantheon, back in the day. Can't say I feel much for modern gods or goddesses." Other than contempt for Akatosh for saddling me with a dragon's soul.
Followers of the Dwemer 'pantheon' also practised cannibalism once a year, and on special occasions, and performed human sacrifices throughout. Which I don't think will go over well these days.
"None of the 'pantheon'," here, I curl my fingers as if quoting, my voice turning a little wry, "If you can call it that, is accepted today. I serve, amongst others, the White Lady, Arnknurlaf, whom you nowadays call Meridia."
The Altmer blinks once. Then twice. A grand total of three consecutive blinks. In Thalmor-speak, that's the equivalent of being utterly floored. Ondolemar, you liar. You haven't forgotten half of that Oblivion-damned Thalmor training!
"I… See. I am glad to know that you'd place such faith in me, friend, to willingly admit to such a thing."
"So you're not going to arrest me?"
I ask, somewhat incredulous. With all the secrecy and taboo surrounding it, I'd thought Daedric worship was a Big Deal around here in that it was, like, punishable by death or something. Or maybe it is, and Ondolemar is just – once again – the exception to the rule. He looks at me in barely visible amusement, taking a large gulp of his mead and setting the bottle to the side, on top of his gloves.
Then, he shakes his head. "The Thalmor know how to deal with Talos worshippers." The Altmer recites in his most posh, aloof voice, the one he employs when dealing with the jarl or the Silverbloods. "Anything else is…" he mimics zipping his lips. "Not my concern. Meridia is hardly the most dreadful of Princes connected to this realm." I stare at him in amazement.
"Did… Did you just crack a joke?" He chuckles, outright chuckles, and I feel I must be going mad. He really must have missed having me around. Then, the corners of his lips once again twitch downwards, as if thinking the same thing.
"Remember the beginning of this conversation?" I nod, eyeing my now empty bottle before carefully aiming it at a passing guards head – not daring to throw, but the Altmer appreciates the thought even as he physically reaches out to push my arm back down. "I was not jesting then."
He sighs.
"I am growing weary. Of this wretched city, its spineless leaders… Even my own soldiers are starting to become suffocating and demanding, daring to order me to act against Talos worship more actively. They… fail to understand the ongoing subtleties and the consequences of such an action. Every building in this city is thoroughly infiltrated by a group of violent barbarians. They would tear us down should the Thalmor show themselves more openly. It is all rather exhausting. The other day, I was dreaming of leaving this place, and my station, behind to go live in the mountains… Can you imagine how badly these issues are affecting me for me to react in such an infantile manner?"
He's been stuck with this for a long time, huh… "Can you not ask to be reassigned?"
The Thalmor head justiciar shakes his head. "Not without good reason. First Emissary Elenwen has chosen me, specifically, for this location."
"Because you're actually a decent Mer?"
"Because I had the highest qualifications. In other words, I am here because my parents had sex on command and were both of high pedigree." The dry, flat way in which the verdict is delivered has me choke on thin air, and I'm floundering between laughing, staying silent, or letting out a vulgar exclamation.
What. What am I supposed to say to this?
What is ANYONE supposed to say to this?
"Come again?"
Ondolemar sighs forlornly. Or well, his exhale is a bit louder, but with emotionally stunted, I mean trained, Thalmor, every move should be exaggerated to get to its real meaning. "If only I could be transferred somewhere remote, like the college of Winterhold. I've heard things are back to normal up there… Or as normal as they can get. Ancano died." He actually seems happy to mention that last part.
"You… Didn't like Ancano?"
"Nobody liked Ancano."
And that's the end of that. I'm glad to hear Onmund managed to do… whatever he did. J'zargo probably helped. I narrow my eyes at the Altmer besides me. "So… There's no Thalmor supervision up there?"
"The new Arch-Mage and First Emissary Elenwen are still in discussion over the terms." The Altmer murmurs delicately.
I snort cheerfully. "The new Arch-Mage told her where to stick it, didn't they?"
"The true response was actually quite eloquent. Although I suppose, when speaking to less cultured beings, one could refer to it as such." I scoff again, then burst out in a fit of actual giggles, and the elf next to me casts his eyes skywards and lets out a quiet puff of amusement.
He's far more relaxed than I've seen him since coming here. I suppose talking to a friend can have that effect? Am I the same right now? Or is it different since I still have Marcurio around? We fall into a companionable silence.
Gods, I would have paid to see the look on Elenwen 's face…
"As for the Talos worship…" Ondolemar says in a low voice. "Would you be willing to do me a small… favour? There is a man here in the city who worships Talos almost openly, but the jarl refuses to act on what he referred to as 'baseless rumours'. If you are willing, can you get me definitive proof of Ogmund the skald's Talos worshipping? Anything will do to get my soldiers off my back and satisfy Elenwen for the next few weeks. It would give me great peace, compared to my current… situation."
I blink at him twice, standing up and finding that I'm still sober enough for this. "Give me half an hour." I descend the stairs even as Ondolemar warns me that he cannot protect me should I get caught.
I have extensive training to sneak around, received from my prankster cousin and refined by ancient ruins filled with deadly creatures. I can handle a break in.
It doesn't even take me thirty minutes to wait for the guards to turn their backs, crouch low in the shadows, duck through the door after picking the lock, sneaking past the old guy snoring loud enough to wake up a Centurion six stations aw- to wake up the whole city, and casually making my way back to my friend, up the many stairs, to drop the amulet in his lap.
"I… Thank you, friend. This is all I need to pacify several people." I pat him on the back, not sitting back down since it's really getting rather late. "Anytime for one of my closest friends." I grin, before yawning and stretching. "I should go back to the inn before Marcurio wakes up for his midnight toilet visit, he tends to check the room for threats and will blow a gasket if I'm not there...Again."
"That is… awfully specific. Do you share a room often?"
"That's… ah… well, uh… We share a bed, actually." The high elves' eyebrows disappear into his hairline.
"Truly? You could have told me you had gotten married, Fjaldi. Even though it is with a male and my culture does not condone such, does not mean I would not be happy that you have found someone to - "
I let out a high-pitched squeak when I realise what he's talking about, staring at him with wide eyes and burning ears, the warmth running all the way to my face and down to my neck, the alcohol adding a light-headedness to it all.
"I – we're not. I'm not. I mean, I'd like to b- no, what, I… Ondolemar. Marcurio and I, we're – not like that. He's just a friend!"
The somewhat sad and very much knowing smile doesn't bode well for me. "You cannot deny that you hold him in high esteem, and that you like him as more than a friend, can you?" I look down at the stone floor, defeated, my heart squeezing uncomfortably in my chest. "I cannot."
The Altmer rises and huffs again, patting me on the head as he walks past me down the stairs. "I bid you good luck. If there is anything I can do to help, do not keep yourself from making it known to me. Until we have a chance to meet again, Fjaldi. Hopefully it will be under better circumstances."
"Aye… Until then." I watch him disappear into the night, the ache in my chest impossible to ignore for much longer. It's about time for Marcurio and I to part ways… Before my foolish heart gives itself to him and I step on the road of no return. I bite my lip as I make my way to the inn slowly. A Dwemer can only give their heart away once, after all. When I well and truly love Marcurio, I will be downright unable to ever have or even consider another.
And since I have no chance with him, as he never masks his appreciation of women in any way, that'd be a pain unlike any other.
Needless to say, sleep does not come easy that night. Or any of the following nights spend on the road between Markarth and Falkreath.
A/N: NEXT MONDAY THERE WILL BE NO UPDATE. I HAVE A KILLER AMOUNT OF WORK AND I am lucky because I has this chapter already written – But I will likely not have a chapter Monday. Of course, I'll stick to my schedule again after the panic has died down a bit irl.