Morrowind owned by Bethesda. Dagoth Ur hasn't dropped off the face of Nim, but Winterbell is not the Nerevarine, and has other things on her mind than the Sixth House troubles. That being said, I'm not ignoring the Main Quest storyline completely... -D

Winterbell soon had no time to think about her Telvanni troubles, for Edwinna Elbert had decided that Winterbell was powerful and trustworthy enough to be involved in her research on the Dwemmer.

Armed with Baladas's key Winterbell had investigated the lower levels of Arkngthand. She did not return with much in the way of goods, but was satisfied with her explorations. When questioned about it she merely warned people about the undead and constructs who walked the lower levels, and the natural cataclysms that had broken bridges spanning rivers of lava and sunken levels beneath underground pools.

Some of the other mages started referring to Arnkngthand as 'Winterbell's ruin' and the mage herself did not discourage this talk. Whatever the local militia thought of her blatant disregard for the law regarding the Dwemmer, they kept silent about it.

Winterbell was glad that she had obtained experience fighting the Dwemmer constructs close to home, for Edwinna was soon sending her far into the ashlands to keep track of her archaeological excavations. As the nights grew ever longer and colder, Winterbell spent most of her time tracking grimly though the silvery ash.

The other mages saw little of her during this time. The biting cold prevented everyone from bathing regularly, and Winterbell's clothes were always dusty. No matter what the original colours, her wardrobe was slowly converted to a uniform grey. She strode though the various Guild-halls like a determined and cranky grey ghost, and seem to be constantly planning the next trip or recovering from the last one.

With the discovery of several Dwemmer books, Ewinna's, and consequently Winterbell's, studies reached fever pitch. Winterbell believed that they might be on the track of finally discovering the secret of the disappearance of the Dwarves. Edwinna was more interested in discovering the secrets of the Dwemmer constructs that Winterbell spent much of her time fighting or avoiding. Winterbell told Edwinna nothing of Baladas's modified centurion sphere. From what Baladas had implied about the time it took to construct, Winterbell did not give much for Edwinna's chances.

It was at the bottom of one of these ruins that Winterbell made the most important discovery of her career.

When Winterbell had first ventured into the ancient Dwemmer halls she had been terrified. There was a strange life humming behind the walls and flickering in the cold yellow lights that were spaced uniformly throughout the ruins. The creaking and groaning of the huge devices that presumably powered the lights was distracting to say the least.

Eventually Winterbell grew accustomed to being underground. The Dwemmer tended to build their cities, fortresses, houses, whatever they were, near places where the 'land's blood' or magma flowed near the surface. After travelling though the ashlands, where the temperature dropped below freezing every night, it was a relief to be safe from the cold and gritty winds, and though the air was often musty, the halls and galleries were pleasantly warm. So despite the fact that the Dwemmer's security devices were both hostile and fully functional, Winterbell looked forward to her sojourns underground.

Winterbell appreciated the beauty and design of the Dwemmer constructs. Her skill with a bow had improved to the point where she could target the compartments of pressurized steam that drove the constructs on all but the massive steam centurions. These latter creatures Winterbell never lost her fear of, and metallic ringing of their footsteps was enough to have her scrabbling for her invisibility amulet and summoning daedra to take on the massive guards for her.

Corpses were not uncommon in the bowels of these dungeons. Whether they were once adventurers, scholars or thieves, their remains were grim reminders of how dangerous it was to walk these all-but-forgotten halls. It was on one of these corpses that Winterbell found the book.

There was an archaeological dig on the upper levels of this ruin, and apparently their local guide had wandered off, or had been taken by the metal monsters. Winterbell was frankly sceptical about the use of a local guide in a place where no elf or human had been for decades, but she kept her opinions to herself, as the scholarly types hovering around the upper level seemed genuinely worried.

As she had half-expected, the guide was dead, a half-finished report and a broken sphere centurion lying next to him. He'd put up a good fight, but had been badly mangled by the construct's vicious blade. In the curious yellow light Winterbell examined the report briefly, as well as detailing the events that lead to the guide's death, there was mention of an unusual book. With a look of distaste, Winterbell rolled the corpse over. Underneath the body was an ancient tome, in the peculiar preserved state of all Dwemmer objects. It was rather gore splattered, but inside the pages were as pristine as the day they were written.

Winterbell flicked though the book briefly, in case there were any loose papers inside. She blinked, moved closer to the light and turned the pages more carefully. A grin spread across her face, for every sentence was written twice. Once in a language she did not understand and once in the familiar, spiky, runic script of the Dwarves.

When she reached the surface, the discovery of the book all but overshadowed the death of the guide. The head archaeologist of the dig was practically dancing; his eyes alight with the possibility for finally decoding the language of the Dwemmer. He identified the unknown language as Aldmeris. To Winterbell's disappointment, he did not know of anyone who spoke that particular dead language of the High Elves.

Edwinna agreed with Winterbell as to the significance of the book, and offered Winterbell the name of someone who might know the language. Strangely enough, Winterbell could find no trace of this person. Further inquiries turned up little, although a Telvanni Winterbell met in Vivec suggested the creature in Divayth Fyr's corpusarium. Winterbell had visited it briefly on a quest for Galos, and decided that it would be her last resort. Baladas seemed a far more promising prospect.

But before Winterbell braved Gnisis's awful Frostfall weather, she decided to take a break for a while. Edwinna, it seemed, had finally received enough raw research to write her book, and to Winterbell's relief, suggested she look for jobs elsewhere.

Winterbell finally got to wash her clothes and have a bath. Her house was a mess from her constant coming and going, and she kept discovering ash among her ingredients and soul gems. After nearly a month in the wilderness, these domestic duties were as good as a holiday.

Winterbell finally had a clean house, a clean robe, freshly washed hair, a copy of Curio's latest play, a roaring fire, and a pot of tea.

There was a knock at the door.

Winterbell shut her book with an angry snap and stalked over to the door. She shivered as a wall of cold air hit her as she opened it. On her doorstep stood Marayan Dren wearing a thick robe and a brightly coloured scarf. In his hand was a hollowed out ash-yam with a candle inside. A face had been carved into the yam with a grinning expression eerily similar to Marayan's own.

Winterbell stared at him, nonplussed. He looked rather put out.
"Don't tell me you don't know what night this is, Winterbell."
"I'm sure you're going to tell me."
"Let me come in for a minute, all the warm air is getting out. I can't believe you've forgotten that it's the longest night of the year!"
Winterbell stood aside to let the mage in. "So we get to indulge in the longest sleep of the year?" She asked, without much hope.
"Surely they celebrated the Night of All Souls in Cyrodil."
"I suppose they did. I can't say I've taken part in it since I was a girl."
"Well then, you've got a lot of catching up to do. We are not going to let you sit out this year."
"We?"
"Estir and Ajira are downstairs. We're going to meet up with the others, and we're not leaving without you."
"Oh goodie." Winterbell said without enthusiasm.
"And your fire is still going."
"Well of course it is. It's freezing out there."
"All lights have to be put out. You can relight them at midnight."
"Can't I just pretend I put them out?"
Suddenly the front door was opened, and Estirdalin and Ajria crowded into Winterbell's house.
"You're obviously not having much success talking her into coming out, Marayan." Estirdalin said.
"Her fire is still going!" Ajira said in a mock-horrified tone.
Winterbell rubbed her eyes, "I'm not getting out of this, am I?"
"Nope!" The others chorused cheerfully.
"Get out then, I'll put on something warmer."
"Don't forget to put the fire out."
"Yes, yes. Whatever."

Winterbell shrugged on her warmest robe, and rather regretfully cast frost on the fire. Estirdalin peered in to make sure the fire was out, and the four mages started walking toward the town square. Everywhere people were laughing and singing and carrying ash-yam lanterns. There were stalls selling candied cromberries and the smell of frying corkbulb and ash-yam filled the air.

Ajira bought an ash-yam lantern for herself, along with the cooked and spiced innards served in a paper cone. She passed the cone around, and Estirdalen started waxing lyrical about the memories this traditional holiday food brought back. Winterbell remembered back to when she was a child, watching her father carefully carve and section the yam, for the fruits of the ashlands were expensive in Cyrodil. She said nothing of this, passing the cone to Marayan without comment.

While everyone was taking their time, the crowd drifted inexorably toward the town square. Two rows of ash lanterns marked a path from the temple to a huge pile of wood in the centre of the square. More and more people crowded into the square and overlooking balconies. Some of the more adventurous clambered onto the roofs.

Over the heads of the crowd Masaline called to the group, having kept the Mage's Guild balcony free of spectators. She seemed delighted to see Winterbell, and explained to the group that Sharn sent her apologies, as she wanted to spend the holiday with her cousin.

Even Galbedir showed up, her husband in tow. She was cool but polite toward Ajira, who acted similarly. By unspoken agreement nobody mentioned Ranis. Galbedir's husband seemed nice enough, but rather henpecked, in Winterbell's eyes at least.

Only Marayan seemed to have any idea what was going on. The other mages laughed and joked as if they were at the theatre, but Marayan kept an eye on the Temple doors, and when there were signs of activity, he advised Ajira to put her lantern out.

As the lanterns were snuffed out, the crowd hushed, and an air of expectancy hovered over them all. All eyes turned toward the temple doors. The stars glowed brilliantly and icily in the frigid night. People huddled instinctively together as the lanterns cooled. Winterbell pulled her hair over her ears as they started to go numb.

In a blaze of light, the Temple doors opened. The local priest led the procession, a simple torch of wood in his hands. Behind him in order of rank the rest of the temple kept perfect step, unlit torches in their hands. The crowd started humming as the procession wound its way down from the Temple. The tune was vaguely familiar to Winterbell, but she couldn't quite remember it, so she kept silent.

When he reached the unlit bonfire the Priest started to say something. Marayan seemed to know the recitation off by heart; Winterbell could see him nodding occasionally, as if refreshing his memory. The priest appeared to be talking a lot about the 'turning of the year' and the seasons, and there was also something about the departed souls. Winterbell couldn't have been less religious if she'd tried, and soon lost interest.

Eventually the priest held the torch above his head, and ceremonially lit the torches of the acolytes. They spaced themselves around the pile of wood and straw and then as one lit the tinder at the base of the fire. The flames licked hungrily at dry wood and the crowd cheered. The acolytes started lighting people's lanterns, and the sound of conversation and laugher once again bubbled over the crowd. Winterbell also noticed the air of relief as Frostfall had been ceremonially vanquished once again.

Marayan lit his and Ajira's lanterns with a snap of his fingers and informed Winterbell that she could light her fire again if she so wished.
"But don't think you're sneaking away. The fun has only just started." He added.
"Fine then."
To the surprise of the other mages, Winterbell clasped an amulet that was around her neck and ripples of violet light spread from her feet. She rose into the air until she could see her front door. The crowd nearby turned to watch as Winterbell gathered her magicka.
"Telekinesis!" The door of her house flew open, "Fireball! Telekinesis!" Her door had slammed shut again when the levitation ran out. She fell down a few feet, landing on the balcony. She staggered backwards, and Marayan stretched out and pulled her back onto the balcony.
"Nice control." He said with a grin.
"Hey! Someone called from the crowd, "Grant this soul a request. Could you light the fire in my house too?"
"It's bad luck to refuse a request put in that form tonight." Marayan whispered in her ear. Winterbell scowled, but agreed to the request, first getting the Imperial to open his door the normal way so she knew where his fireplace actually was.
"That will teach me to show off." She glowered when she rejoined the group.
"I think it shows you're getting into the spirit of the night." Ajira smiled.
"So everyone goes about requesting stuff all night? And people have to do it?"
"You only get one request." Marayan explained. "It's an honour system taught to all children. If you abuse it your soul will depart before the next Night of All Souls."
"That seems a bit harsh."
Marayan merely shrugged.
"And now," Masaline announced gleefully, "We are off to Vivec, where the real celebrations are!"
"We are?" Winterbell shook her head, "I'm too old for this nonsense."