All the Elder Scrolls properties are under the Elder Scrolls (Bethesda) license; I'm still just borrowing.
The following piece of literature is a M'aiq the Liar production. The events are fictional…to this Khajiit's knowledge.
Stuck on a Silt Strider with Strangers
Starring…the Nerevarine.
Also featuring…(in no particular order)…an Imperial, a Nord, a Dunmer, and a Bosmer.
Celebrity guest appearance…Crassius Curio.
In the midst of Prophecy Fulfillment
Traveling from Balmora to Vivec, the Nerevarine is on a strider with a Nord woman, an Imperial man, a Bosmer man, and a Dunmer driver.
Imperial: Hmph, what a ride this will be.
Nord: Yeah, I agree.
Bosmer: Whatever do you mean by that?
Nord: Well, I have some medicine for this.
The Nord pulls out a flask of her mead. She begins drinking heavily.
Imperial: You know, that doesn't really—
Bosmer: —What are you drinking, Nord? Can I have some?
Imperial: Oh, what the hell.
The Imperial pulls out a bottle of Cyrodiilic Brandy and drinks.
Nerevarine: (Mumbles to self) I have a potion of Silence in my bag that I'm not going to drink…too bad it doesn't work like it sounds.
They remain in silence for some time.
Nord: Wow, I have had way too much mead. All of you are powing glurple…ha! I mean, glowing purple…yeah, that's it.
The Nerevarine and Imperial exchange glances.
Nerevarine: What on earth are you talking about?
Nord: You're purple! I've been drinking too much of this mead…really…
The Imperial snatches the bottle from her. He glances at it and frowns.
Imperial: You drank a life detection potion.
Nord: No, I didn't, really…it's mead. I swear. I wouldn't even drink…uh, that.
Bosmer: I think you're drunk.
Nord: And I think you're handsome, sweetie.
Imperial: Yeah, she's drunk.
Bosmer: (Angrily) Hey!
Nord: Seen any elves? Aha ha!
Bosmer: What's that supposed to mean?
Nerevarine: Really, what is that supposed to mean?
Nord: Dumb Bosmer…
Bosmer: That's enough out of you!
The Nord stands shakily.
Nord: What, what are you going to do about it then, huh?
The Bosmer goes to shove the Nord. The Nord drunkenly topples backwards over the strider's edge. As she falls, she grabs the Bosmer's hand, taking him down with her.
Nerevarine: Gravity is Azura's blessing.
Imperial: Well, actually, sera, gravity is the force that…
The Imperial engages in a long speech about gravity. The Nerevarine drifts off to sleep in the midst of the speech. The Nerevarine has a dream. The Nerevarine sees the curious man from the ride to Suran. The man approaches the Nerevarine, talking about something. The Nerevarine only pays attention to his shiny mask, wondering how much the thing costs. Then, in the dream, Dagoth Ur reaches up to remove the mask. The Nerevarine is awoken by the Imperial's scream.
Imperial: Good lord!
Nerevarine: What is it? Don't tell me those creepy ash zombies found me again…
Imperial: No!
Nerevarine: What is it?
Imperial: That Bosmer is hanging off the edge of the strider. He didn't fall all the way off!
Nerevarine: Well, I'm pretty sure there are netch fields just outside Vivec.
Dunmer: Actually, we go around the fields. We never risk the striders around the netch—
The Imperial shoots a quick spell at the driver, and he glows green momentarily. The Dunmer blinks. Then, the Imperial clears his throat.
Imperial: Dunmer, let's see the netch fields on the way.
Dunmer: Why, sure thing, sera…
The remainder of the ride proves to be entertaining for them, and they arrive to Vivec in good spirits.
The Nerevarine then takes a ride from Vivec back to Balmora. This time there is only one other man besides the driver, an Imperial.
Crassius: Well, hello there!
Nerevarine: Good day.
Crassius: What brings you to Balmora?
Nerevarine: …business…
Crassius: Fascinating! As for me, I'm headed to a Hlaalu council meeting, but I don't want to bore you with that talk. My name is Crassius Curio, a humble playwright. You can call me Uncle Crassius. Who might you be, pumpkin?
Nerevarine: Uh, well, I'm what they call the Nerevarine.
Crassius: Nerevarine, eh? I've yet to have seen the likes of you before.
Crassius scoots towards the Nerevarine.
Nerevarine: I'm wearing a helmet, sera. Of course you haven't seen me.
Crassius: Yes, yes. Well, I like to think that race doesn't matter.
The Nerevarine scoots away from Crassius.
Nerevarine: Really. What about gender?
Crassius: Ha! That is silly.
Crassius scoots towards the Nerevarine once more.
Nerevarine: Well, um, that's…interesting. Look, as the Nerevarine, I have this oath, you see.
Crassius: An oath? Really?
Nerevarine: Yes, I…am not allowed to…uh…
Crassius: Allowed to what?
Nerevarine: …talk to strangers?
Crassius: Why! I'm Uncle Crassius. I'm no stranger to you!
Nerevarine: You see, uh, there's…
Crassius leans on the Nerevarine, placing a hand upon the Nerevarine's knee. The Nerevarine pushes his hand off, remembering some of the Temple's teachings about temptation with strangers.
Nerevarine: N-O, serjo!
Crassius: But…okay, fine.
Crassius shrugs and scoots to the other side of the strider, pouting slightly. The Nerevarine sighs lightly and leans away from him. Things turn out to be quiet for the remainder of the trip but undoubtedly awkward. The Nerevarine almost wished there had been a Bosmer there to break the silence…almost.