Black Marsh, is one of the nine Provinces of Tamriel and the homeland of the Argonians, a reptilian race. The Argonians are perfectly adapted to the dense forests, swampy inland rivers, and mangrove thickets that make it nearly impossible, even for my brother and I, who were born here, to reach the interior of Black Marsh. Unless one is an Argonian. Explorers who are not Argonian usually end up dead, killed by the native fauna of Black Marsh, disease, the Kothringi or the Argonians. In Black Marsh there are only a few small villages, like that of Stormhold, which was closest to our home, and, conveniently it was there my brother was meeting his group to travel with, come midday. The three of us walked in silence through the small village. Village life gently swirled around us, with the flow of people, scurrying in every direction, the endless conversations that they overheard as they passed by. As we walked, we were greeted by many friends and some familiar faces. And a few sneers and hisses in our direction, being as that my brother and I were, as they would say, 'half-breeds'.
As a child, I used to have a friend named Kasa-Jeen, a soft-hearted Argonian. I was 12 when she had left to become a bard in Skyrim. I wonder how she's doing? I pay no mind to the quiet hisses as we walk to our destination. Occasionally I see men and women, no doubt from Cyrodil. They walked amongst the Argonians with a certain air about them that made me want to put my knee in their stomach. They walked with false authority. And since the great rebellion years ago, as well as The Empire fighting to gain more ground, Black Marsh had, again, as my mother had put it, "never successfully invaded, but instead, peacefully incorporated." To which my father would huff as he cleaned his warhammer with a new-found diligence. My mind, which had been lost in past thoughts stopped when I heard the sound of a horse galloping ahead, with a wooden carriage in tow. My stomach fell to my feet, even my steps faltered for a moment. I nearly stop and my father, without my brother seeing, pushes me to continue. I nearly start to cry until my father whispers in my ear a simple, 'Not. Yet.' Choking them back, we near the wagon, several men and women climbing in, settling in their seats. I watch as my father hands over the small wrapped bag to my brother, who with apprehension, starts to loosen the straps. Looking in the bag, Daodrik's head whips back up to look in my fathers eyes.
"I know your still young, but I know your mother would have wanted you to have them." Our father spoke in his deep voice, hiding his emotions so well. I watch as my brother pulls out my mothers old mage robes, the dark blue material, though old, held well over time. Nodding his thanks, he folds the rob and places it back in the bag.
"Thank you, father." His voice is low. Pained. I watch as my father goes to his arms and undoes his gauntlet buckles. Eyes wide, Daodrik stands in awe as my father holds them out to him.
"When you were born, I made these gauntlets with wood from the Hist Tree and the bones of the first beast that fell to your blade. I vowed to you, your mother, and myself, that when you came of age, as Kothringi tradition, I would pass on my strength, my wisdom and as a symbol of you becoming a strong and capable man, these gauntlets. As my son, I, Drukel of Kothringi, am proud to be your father, and if the time came, would have had such pride to fight alongside you on a battlefield. You are- boy, stop crying or I will have to start this all over again". Both of them stood, feet apart, my father looking 3 times his size, as he read the rites of Kothringi passage to my brother, who now, silently wept. Pressing his fingers over his eyes, he waited until he collected himself, then, dropping his hand, he nodded to my father for him to continue. "You are recognized as a man of the Kothringi, a warrior. But most importantly, you are my son. And I am proud to say that. As Kothringi, I grant you leave of our lands, to test your skill. To spread word of our way. To find what you seek. And more." Holding out his hand, my brother clasps his hand on my fathers forearm, their fingers digging into each-others skin with their tight grip. Looking away, I give them time to speak in unspoken words that men seem to do. Plus, I needed to clear my vision.
When my brother stepped back and towards me, the crushing feeling I was trying to forget, came back. It was time. The time I knew would come sooner or later but dreaded. How was I supposed to just do it without feeling like I've lost a part of me? All those times where we would just talk and laugh and do normal things normal people would do. Looking up at my brother, I try to smile. We stood there, looking at each other, saying nothing. But it was the kind of nothing that meant everything. In his eyes, there was no trace of our last fight, even as the bruises still faded from his skin. I wanted to have the perfect words to tell him how he'd helped me with our parents were busy or dead. How I wouldn't be who I was without him. But what made me feel more conflicted was that I could feel something in me say that this would be the last time I would see him, as the brother I grew up with. I couldn't even be mad at him, because this was who he was. This was who he had always been.
"Be sure to find someone who challenges you to work hard, and keep you on your toes like I used to." I say and groan as he ruffles my hair.
"Sister, no one will be able to even hold a candle to your… Dedication. But I will try. And I hope that, due to my absence, you find someone who will kick you to the ground 150 times a day and told you're nuts by friends and strangers alike as you get back up and prove them wrong when they think that will be the last time you get knocked down. You sister, are different from the others. The sooner you accept that, I think you can conquer anything."
"I hope you find your happiness out there." I say quietly. "I hope you don't forget that there is more to life than spells and power. And that nothing easy, is hardly worthwhile."
"Knowing us, and our parents, were going to make things difficult for ourselves in order to find someone else other than family to deal with us."
'I suppose we won't' I said, seriously. Then I threw my arms around him, and I squeezed him tightly enough that the bruises on his ribs hurt, and he hugged me back, just as tightly.
"Can I make a last request from you?" He asked as he released me. Tightening our fathers' gauntlets to his arms.
"Anything." I swallow as he climbs into the carriage.
"How about a farewell song?" He asks and I felt floored. But...I'd never really enjoyed singing for anyone else. In fact, I hated audiences. Kasa-Jeen was the bard. Not me. But she wasn't here. And my twin brother was leaving me. Instead, I straightened and smiled and asked,
"Any requests?" To which he smiled and rolled his eyes.
"You know my favourite." I nod. He often requested songs as we had grown. Mother had taught me a few from her homeland, even some she herself has made.
"Okay. Armiger Marching Song it is". Clearing my throat, I glance around as I began the song. I was worried that, due to my lack of singing in years, my voice was rusty.
"Step light, stride far,
O ye Buoyant Armigers,
To glory days and triumphant nights,
March on through your bloody fight!"
Taking a deep breath, my voice slowly rising in power.
"Sing proud, sound roars,
O ye Buoyant Armigers,
Raise voices in courageous cheers,
Give those heathens cause for fear!
Stand tall, spoil wars,
O ye Buoyant Armigers,
Best their warriors by the score,
Take a bow and best a dozen more!"
Set bones, sum scars,
O ye Buoyant Armigers,
Wear the badge of those who lead,
A few new nicks as proof of deeds!
Stand tall, spoil wars,
O ye Buoyant Armigers,
Best their warriors by the score,
Take a bow and best a dozen more!"
I finish and I am surrounded by applause, even the rest of the carriage riders are clapping. I feel embarrassed, and by the look of my brothers face, he enjoys my discomfort. He had to get one last jab. Smacking a hand to the back of the wooden vehicle, it starts moving away from us.
I feel the muscles of my chin tremble, I bite my tongue, trying to hold the tears that threatened to leave my eyes. Until I feel a heavy hand fall on my shoulders and look to see that is it my father, warhammer raised up high, taking a deep breath, and giving out a loud Kothringi war cry. One that would rattle my bones till the end of my days. One filled with emotions that, at the age that I was, could not understand. Not until years later. It was one of farewell, good luck and a forever, goodbye. Looking back at my brother, he stands up, even as the carriage moves, crosses his arms over his chest and releases on of his own in return. And that's when I can't hold them back. I can feel the warmth, sliding down my cheek, and rolling off my chin. Then another. And another. Until my eyes flood with them, coming like a rainfall. Sniffing every ten seconds, they fall, and fall, and I let them.
"Farewell my brother." I whisper.
Weeks Passed, like a blur. I kept myself busy, becoming more and more dedicated to fathers' teachings, though he rarely helped me these days. I practiced simple spells from mages in Stormhold, the same ones who aided my brother, now assisted me. The house was quiet with my brother gone. But he occasionally did send letters, describing his time at the college. Saying that it was a beauty to behold. He sent money to me and father sometimes when he took small jobs. I wrote back after a time, telling him of my training, and a few scuffles I had encountered while helping our father in border patrols.
It was 4 months, to the day that my brother had left when our father took ill. I had returned to our home after a hunt and dropped everything on the floor and rushed to his side as he laid on the floor, his breathing shallow. I help him to bed and I am wrecked with silent sobs. I had been around enough Kothringi who had taken ill to know the signs. My father was dying. I sent word to my brother, hoping that he could make it home before my father passed.
My father tells me to be brave, and be strong, but as his fever burns hot, I find that I can't. No-one who goes past three days of fever makes it and this is number four. Perhaps it is a sign of desperation that I've started to cling to any sign that he'll pull through. He's lost track of time so I tell him "It's just been two days, Father. Everything is going to be alright." I look right into his eyes, hating the lie. The world is on pause for me as I watch as he takes in shallow breaths, existing from moment to moment. It burned me alive knowing that this once strong warrior, now was resorted to a frail man in a bed. A string of harsh coughs shook his pale and fragile form, leaving him weaker than I had thought possible. When the shudders would stop, he slept. I sat crossed-legged in the cool grass after fetching new water. All I wanted was for him to be well again. I was tired. I hadn't slept. I couldn't. Knowing any moment could be his last, it ruined me... I could hear his coughs from far beyond the walls of the house, dusting myself off, I pick up the bowl of river water and cloths and head back inside. I nearly dropped it when I found him sitting up in his bed, sweat across his pale forehead and through his linen shirt.
"Father! You shouldn't be moving! You need to rest and-" His dry cough stopped my words, as did the blood that fell from his lips.
"I'm dying Serlina." His tone was final. And it broke something in me. "I've known it for some time now, even before the symptoms took hold." His voice, though broken and dry, was firm. I stood at the foot of his bed and shook my head in denial. "Don't look at me like that girl. Instead of standing there- fetch me some water. We need to discuss a few things."
"Not right now we don't. I'll figure something out!" I state as I go to our water basin and fill a cup. "I can go talk to the gods, hell, even some deadra, and maybe make a bargain with them! I am a pure being maybe I can-" I let out a shriek as a plate flies by me and slam against the door. Turning to him, I feel like I am a small child again.
"You will do no such thing as speaking to any god or daemon alike! You keep your purity to you and you alone! It is not something you barter with!" He coughed. "I don't have much time left. And I need to tell you before I leave and join your mother." My hand shakes terribly as I help him drink. His face contorts in pained focus as the cool liquid passes his lips.
"How long have you known?" I ask as I sit down by him. He swallows and takes a deep breath.
"Before your brother left for the college. Don't you rage at me for not telling either of you. You and I both can agree that if I had, your brother would have stayed and let go of his dream, because you and I both know Kothringi laws. He would have had to take my place when I passed, and you wouldn't have grown as much as you have in these passed months." I frown as his hand thumps the side of the bed. It was true. "Listen closely." His voice was a weak version of his usual ferocity. "Half a year ago, I went to the chieftain of our tribe to allow your brother and yourself to leave our home, as you should wish when I die." He held up a few fingers to stop my words. "You will listen to me, and accept this. I sent word to your mother's family out in Morrowind to take care of you and to train you in their ways. When you are finished, you may do so as you please. But promise me, you will never return to this land." His voice, though week, held strength in it, even on his deathbed. But to not return home. One of his dying wishes. I gave him my word, that I would not return to Black Marsh.
"Good. Now, go to that container there, and fetch me the boxes inside." I looked between him and the large clay pot and stood. Walking to it and removing the lid I see two wrapped boxes, one smaller than the other. Taking them both out, I carry them to my fathers bed. When I sat, he reached under and pulled out something long and wrapped in a sheet, the slight sound of metal pinging caught my ears. "Open your boxes, child." His voice was strained. Blinking back tears, I open the smaller one. Inside, lay a small necklace, its chain was simple and silver, but them stone that lay in the center was a dark colour, almost black. Holding the stone up to the light, I saw the lighted colour of purple. The shape of the stone was smoothed out into an oval and wrapped in cords.
"That is a gift from your mother, A stone she had on her the day she left our world to join the heavens. I had it fashioned into something to wear. So, you could have a piece of her with you." Looking at him, I feel a tear drop from my eye as I fasten it onto my neck, the coolness of the stone contrasting the warmth of the summer winds. Opening up the other box, I can't help but let out a pained gasp as I look upon my mother traveling armour. It was light, and like a thick hide, coloured in a dark blue, the sleeves black and the pants were a mixture of elven chain mail and cloth. From the unknown, it looked like a tunic, fashionable, and light, but due to its make, was one of the strongest sets my mother owned.
"She had that made for you when you turned 20. Its early, and you will fit into it in a few years, but I think now is the time you received it." Leaning forward he placed a hand on mine, stilling the trembling. Then, taking hold of the sheet, opened it to show me three blades, their elven make was unmistakable. So was the owner.
"Those were mothers." I choke out. She had made them when she was my age, their scabbards intricately woven with leaver belts to secure them when worn.
"Yes. Your mother wanted you to have these as well. I know you aren't the best at broadswords, but these are light enough for you to master. But until you are ready, stay with the one-handed pair." He coughed, leaving him gasping for breath. "Your mother, wanted you to see the world, experience things, as she did. She wanted you to travel and make new companions. She too, had felt that you were meant for greater things beyond this marsh." Lifting a hand, he cupped my cheek, smiling at me. "My stubborn stargazer, you will do many a great thing. And never forget that your family loves you, and are proud, no matter what you decide. But no matter what you do, promise me you will remember your mothers lessons and my pointers."
"I swear it." I say without hesitation. .
"I must rest." He said gently. I help him lay down in his bed, patting his forehead with a cool cloth, his eyes blink once, twice and slowly they shut. Carefully I move the blades with great care to lean against the wall. With careful fingers, I trace the handle. Mother had them bound with leather when she had them, but looking at them, the handle was now fitted with a pale wood, similar to the wood from my father gauntlets. I feel another blow to my stomach. Like the ones he gave Daodrik. Looking back to my father, who's eyes slightly open, with a small grin on his lips.
"You didn't think I would go to the famous Hist tree for just your brother and not bring you back something too?" He chuckled, coughing a bit. I smile at him.
"You have done so much. And yet, I feel like I have done so little for you father." He rolls his eyes, letting out a low moan.
"You are my daughter. You continuing to breathe and fight for what's right, is more than enough. And this is the last time I want you to feel less than what you think you are." His tone stated that this was final. "My last command to you my dear, is to obey these last words, till the end of your days." He paused, eyes fighting to stay open. "You are to only accept the best for yourself. In all things. To be kind. Have courage. And to follow your heart." He finished. Turning to face him fully, I put my arms across my chest, bowed, and let them drop to my sides when I straightened.
"By your word, and my will." I return his command with our family's vow. I see his lips tilt upwards and he takes a deep breath and let it out. His eyes close and falls asleep. Moving as silently as possible, I head to our kitchen to make broth for him. He might be hungry in a small while. My mind moving a mile a minute. Prepping the pot, I pull out pieces of food and set water in it to boil. Minutes tick by and I head to my fathers room again to change the cloth. I move silently as possible, and as I lift the cloth, I feel my world tilt. His chest wasn't rising or falling. "Father?" I crouched, placing a hand over his chest that contains no beating heart. He was gone. I picked up his hand, so cold and pale, touching it to my newly wet cheek, closing my eyes for just a moment. In that eternal second, I felt his presence, like the hug he gave me before he had laid in bed. My mind struggled to stay in that moment, to keep him close. As much as I tried to hold it in, the pain came out like an uproar from my throat in the form of a silent scream. The tears started falling down one after another, without a sign of stopping. The muffled sobs wracked against my chest. I placed his hand by his side and lay with him, feeling his body cool, tears soaking into his tunic, and wept out my grief.
The following day, was one I both remember and can't remember. Half of the day went by in a blur, the rest, clear as day…
With all the honors of a Kothringi, I built him a funeral pyre. I fitted him in his war armour and weapon, mothers hair ribbons wrapped around his right hand, hoping that they would guide him to her in the afterlife. A few Kothringi who had heard of me and my grief came to help and console me for my loss.. He was their brother in arms, so I also knew their pain. But they knew theirs would never eclipse what I felt. They stood and chanted words in their tribal language. I found it powerful and some parts I didn't understand a word of. And to be honest, I don't want to. With a torch held high, I lit the pyre, and watched as the flickers of embers drift up into the sky. I silently cry as the chanting rises with the flames. Looking around the pyre, I don't see the one face that should have been there besides my own.
Daodrik.
My letters went unanswered, though I had sent 17 in the time father had been sick. All I was met with, was silence. And the messenger who I paid with nearly the last of my money, said he delivered them. 'Right to the College, into the hands of a mage who said he would pass them along to him personally.'
Fine. If his goals and dreams were more important than his family, then I too, shall forget him. Or better yet, I will grow and when I am ready, I will track him down and demand answers from him, and get my pound of flesh in, if he wasn't already dead. But for now, I mourned... Alone.
I mourned for who knows how many days. I slept in my fathers bed, weeping and wishing he was still here.. Here in the home he had built for all of us to live.. Now.. We had all split apart or died. I don't recall the day I had looked around our hut and felt anger at it. I couldn't stay and yet, I wanted to linger, to wallow in my grief. I wanted to track my brother down and beat out my fury and pain onto him. And I would. But as I thought about it, I wouldn't be ready. My training wasn't done, I would be heading into a country I wasn't familiar with..
Damn.
I found myself getting to my feet and packing…
Leaving home is so hard, so many memories, and now all of them balled up in my chest. I run my hand down my gear as I tighten it to my body. My body, still immature to fit the armor my mother had fashioned for me, was simply covered in a basic leather hide. The blades were secure and my pack of food weighed me down a little. My map coated in wax and tucked securely in my waistband. Making one last check that I had everything of importance, I nod as I leave the small home. I had never thought of leaving home before. I once thought about it when I was maybe 8. My mother crying, my father stiff, my brother rolling his eyes as he waved me farewell. The anger of what I felt was robbed from me made me grab my torch and set it to the straw of our roof. The dry tinder ate away quickly. As I turn to depart, I feel part of my soul imprint onto the walls, a parting gift from me to this place. The path at my feet fades as it leads into the darkness of the woods, yet follow it I must. With each stretch I reach higher; with each stride I'm stronger, I keep gaining a little more to carry me through the times of hardship.
A WEEK AND A HALF LATER.
Dropping my map, my eyes widen as I take in my mother's home. Narsis. It was so different, and yet, I felt a connection here. When I looked around the town, I see, for the first time since I had last laid eyes on my mother, full blooded Altmer Elves. I would be lying if I said I wasn't alarmed to see their own beauty, unmixed with any other blood. Their eyes were more pointed than hers and the mouths meaner, thinner lipped and often elongated. It was almost hypnotizing to watch them in their robes that hung to their ankles with translucent silks. And they were all so tall! I can never tell how old they are, for they look middle aged to me with their slender limbs and tanned skin. Their lobe-lacking ears pointed toward their silver crowns, which were entwined within their hair. My features were different back in Black Marsh, not overly criticized but here they marked me out as a stranger without having to speak a word. Not that I could understand even half of their elvish whispers.
Daodrik had taken many of our fathers' characteristics, but he seemed to be growing into my mother's height. Yet I was a little curvier than these slender elves. But shorter. I feel as though my body in and of itself is still deciding which side of my whole family to fall on. If I grow into my dark features, I would have been considered beautiful back home, well, In Black Marsh... But it wasn't home anymore. I walk through the town, no doubt looking like a gapping fish out of water. Until a certain face makes my steps father. The face was rougher, but I recognized it. It was a male version of my mother. His gaze slid to me and locked.
If I'd rehearsed this conversation once, I'd rehearsed it a thousand times over my time traveling here... Now that I'd gotten here, my mouth had gone dry and my heart was beating more forcefully than it usually did.
'Kalomon?" I call out. His back straightens and after a significant pause he calls back a name that makes my soul hurt.
"Lorena?" he cals back as I let out a shaky breath, the pounding in my chest accelerated. With a shake of my head, I stride towards my uncle. Nearing him he raises a hand for me to grasp. I raised my hand and pressed it against his before my second thoughts got the better of me. He takes a few moments and after a slow exhale, he speaks again. "Forgive me. You look... So much like your mother... Serlina. An honor to finally meet you child. Welcome to Morrowind."
"You know about me?" I ask. Mother had cut most of her ties when she married my father.
"I know of you and your brother, yes. When she was still among us, she would write letters, telling us of how you had grown. And you certainly have. If not for your eyes and shorter appearance, you would be a reflection of your mother." He spoke as he walked me to his home, pointing at different buildings, shops and forages.
From the stares I received, I wasn't the only one who was shocked to see that this was my family. Mothers family. They welcomed me and held me tight as they took me in. I told them everything, from growing up in Black Marsh, mothers passing, Daodrik leaving, to father's death, and my vow to become stronger. They listened, even when the day grew dark. When my life's tale was done, my tears were dried, my uncle spoke up.
"Serlina, when you spoke of becoming better, you sounded apprehensive. Can I ask why you doubt yourself?" Kalomon asked with a steady gaze as he poured hot water over tea leaves. As he sat, I curse myself for still being easy to read.
"I don't know how to explain it," I said as I glanced at the fading sun. When he chuckled, I turned to face my uncle again.
"Your mother was the same at your age. You too, are like the sun," he nodded his head towards the horizon. "You strive to spread your light, but you're too afraid to rise." The way he said it made me feel a small flutter in my stomach. One of curiosity and maybe a touch of fear. He looked to my face and whispered, "Serlina, do you know what the world would do if the sun never rose?"
I scrunched my face into a questioning expression. My throat tightened before I spoke. "Well, I suppose that it wouldn't be as bright." I murmured.
"Yes." He said sadly, "Without the light of the sun to brighten our days, the world would be depressing. Serlina, you are that sun, to your family, and other who await to bask in your brilliant glow.. The word needs to be set on fire by the real you: the you, you were made to be."
"But, Kalomon," I protested, "What if I don't know how to rise?"
He looked at me with passion in his eyes, he jabbed a finger towards my heart. "The strength to rise comes from inside of you. You are the one who has to decide to break down the walls hiding your true self, and not care what people think. Serlina, ask the maker who helps the sun rise every day to guide you by the hand, as you learn to rise from your self-doubt and become all that he has planned." He paused and stepping back, he drew a slender sword from under his robes, the make of his blade a lot like the ones I carry from my mother. "And if that is not enough, then we shall work on that. Stand child, you make be weak from your travels, but no child of my sister shall have such a low thought of herself. Now, come." Turning on his heel, he walked me to a wide room and with eyes that met mine with solid determination, they lead me into the second part of my training. And into the start of my new life.
AU:
Hello again, another chapter up! Hope you guys are liking the story! If you guys have the time, leave a review or PM me if you have any thoughts or questions!
Daodrik's farewell song linked below!
watch?v=XX8ykUUBOHU