A/N: Again, just another drabble, unrelated to any of the others. This one in particular is about Triss in the tunnels of Arborlon (hence the title), in Morrowindl. Rated PG-13 for violence (although I really don't think it's too bad). Please review! XD And yes, this one is only about Triss, although I do plan to write something including Wren too, very soon now. Mmmhmm. 3

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The Tunnels of Arborlon

It took a while before he realized that he was hopelessly lost within the tunnels.

"Shades," he whispered to himself. Why'd he ever agree to be separated from the Owl? The Owl was the only one who knew the tunnels really well, and he was gone for the moment. And now Triss was all alone, confused, hungry, and defenseless save for the broadsword strapped across his back.

He turned around, in the hopes of being able to follow his footsteps back to their separation point, so that the Owl would pick him up and return him to the safety of Arborlon.

And they call me a Captain of the Home Guard, he thought, slightly amused.

A noise came from behind him suddenly, though, freezing him in his tracks.

Please don't let that be what I think it is.

But he already knew that it was.

A low chuckle sounded from the darkness. "You think to do battle with me?" something rasped.

"I have no choice," Triss whispered. He hated the ones that could talk. The ones intelligent enough to taunt him and to prod at his weak spots.

The chuckle sounded again, but louder this time. "You honestly think you can beat me?"

No, the Captain of the Home Guard thought. "Yes."

"Very well."

Before he knew it, the Shadowen was already attacking, violet fire spurting from its clawed hands, aiming for Triss. But Triss was gone, sidestepping nimbly to the right, broadsword now in hand. Raising the sword above his head, he lunged for the monster, seeking to cut off its head. The Shadowen was ready, though, and one claw shot out to brush away Triss as if he were nothing more than a fly.

Triss shouted in pain as he hit the tunnel wall, feeling something crack. He stood up shakily, clutching at his stomach. A rib was broken, maybe two.

The violet fire appeared again, and this time Triss dodged just a second too slow, the fire charring his tunic and burning his left arm. He could imagine his arm crumbling away already, reduced to nothing but ashes.

Don't think about it.

How was he supposed to win against this thing, though?

In a wild gamble, he flung his broadsword at the creature, grimacing in satisfaction as he heard it roar in pain. There was a flash of green, and he realized that it was the Shadowen's blood; that somehow he had severed off one hand. It spurted everywhere, making the ground sizzle. Acid.

Being careful to avoid it, he dashed over to one side to retrieve his fallen weapon while the other was still howling in pain. An arm for an arm.

He could run now, he realized. But could he really allow this thing to live, to allow the possibility of it coming to kill him open?

No.

A flash of inspiration came to him suddenly, and he clutched his sword in preparation. His ribs were still aching from where they had cracked, but he ignored the pain.

The monster looked up at him as he approached, lidded eyes clouded with hate. Fire spurted weakly from its one remaining hand, but its magic was spent. Brute strength would need to be employed now.

In one swift move, the Shadowen stood up and pounced at the Captain of the Home Guard, claws extended to tear out the latter's throat. But Triss was prepared for this, and bringing up his sword, he slapped the flat side of it against the monster's left arm, the one that was bleeding acid. He continued to press until the arm was flat against the body, making the acid bleed into its chest. The Shadowen howled in protest, trying to force the arm away. But Triss was persistent, and eventually the acid ate it through.

It dropped to the floor once its heart had been destroyed, unable to survive any longer. Triss nudged it lightly with his foot, and it disintegrated into ash.

I did it.

Voices sounded from beyond, and a familiar face appeared. "Owl," he murmured, smiling, before lapsing into unconsciousness.