The short mushroom tower stood alone in a much larger clearing than the one they'd left behind. Smoke trickled out of a stout chimney on the uppermost outcropping of fungus. Walls of towering pine trees in every direction effectively cloaked the dwelling from accidental discovery. If Nadene hadn't come upon him, Gelebor doubted he'd ever have been able to find this place on his own.
"Stay out here and don't touch anything," she ordered. Lying on the ground with a serious injury, Gelebor didn't see much room for argument. Nadene walked up the steps leading to the pleasantly round front door, evidently in no hurry. He looked around as best he could while waiting. The Forgotten Vale had been beautiful, but being there so long had made Gelebor yearn for different flora and fauna to gaze upon.
A good place to indulge that desire. A colorful garden spread around the front of the tower, trailing off in each direction from the stairs. Fat bees hovered lazily over the rainbow of vegetation. The flowers and herbs hailed from Skyrim, Gelebor was certain, and none of the native ash plants were represented. Tiny rivers of water danced through the garden soil, though he could see no pond or other source for the liquid. Nadene has shown remarkable skill in alteration. Perhaps this is another display of her magic.
Around the side of the tower, a red guar snored in a pen that looked more comfortable than most places Gelebor had lived. Several varieties of flower not present in the garden grew here, likely meant for the creature to nibble on. Beside the pen, a small cart sat empty with a saddle hanging from it.
His savior returned. Nadene stood at the top of the steps, looking down at him.
"I used all my magicka on the teleport, so you'll have to get up these stairs yourself." Nadene smiled. "Consider it a challenge. If you make it to the door, you win the healing salves I found stored away in the attic."
"That may be within my power." Gelebor struggled to his feet, needles of agony shooting down his torso. He hissed in pain with every step.
Nadene watched, her eyebrows raised. He fought to keep tears from his eyes as he struggled up the stairs, fresh bruises on his legs from the werebear making themselves known.
Gelebor managed to speak, "I wasn't aware House Telvanni had an outpost this far inland."
She crossed her arms. "I'm not one of those crazy wizards. A wise endling should focus on reaching the door, I think, or he may find his offer of bandages rescinded."
"Condemning me to death for a few innocent questions? You definitely sound like the Telvanni I've heard about." The burden had eased somewhat, and Gelebor stumbled to the door on shaky feet and braced himself against the wood.
"I'm beginning to see why you got punched in the face." Nadene pushed open the portal, and he fell into the tower. "Don't get too comfortable."
The interior was a cozy little affair, with a small spiral staircase leading up from the round central chamber to a loft bedroom. A central hearth burning with bright azure flames cast a dancing light on to the mycelial walls, which were adorned with paintings of alien landscapes and hanging weapons of many types and materials. Around the fire, furniture of an unknown style was arranged in a circular fashion.
"Wonderful," Gelebor whispered, eyes wide. "Does this tower have a name?"
"I already told you I'm not Telvanni." Nadene stepped over him. "I'd say the blood loss was affecting your mind, but something tells me you were always this dim."
"I'm a little new to this world," he admitted. "For a long time, I was obligated to protect the Great Chantry. No one else could take my place. This didn't allow much room for travel."
Nadene grabbed a roll of bandages and a potion bottle from a high shelf. "How long?"
Gelebor hesitated before replying. He didn't yet know the measure of this woman, and she'd threatened to leave him for dead a few times now. "Thousands of years. I stopped counting them a while before I had to leave."
She returned slowly with the medicine, as if working through a thought.
"Quite a time to be alone," Nadene finally said. She knelt down and surveyed the ruins of his chest plate, not meeting his eyes.
"Yes." They didn't talk for a while after that. He leaned back his head on the soft floor as Nadene tossed aside shattered pieces of his armor and bits of cloth from his robe. The loss of the former weighed heavy in Gelebor's heart; the ivory vestments had been with him for such a time, they'd become almost a second skin. Another remnant of his people, lost because of carelessness. I thank Auriel that the armor survived this long. Without its protection, I would be lying dead next to the werebear in that clearing.
"Not so white anymore," Nadene remarked, studying his exposed torso. "You could almost pass for a native, with all this blood and ash."
He smiled tightly, staring up at the curved ceiling. "I'm not quite hardy enough for that. I've discovered over the past months that every dark elf in Raven Rock is superior to me at nearly every task. This made finding work a bit awkward."
"The Dunmer are a miserable people. Experiencing pain and hardship is the mainspring of our race. You should be glad you're not better at it. "
"A bit harsh, to speak of your own kind in such a way."
Nadene smiled as she used a wet cloth to wipe away the dried blood. "I didn't exclude myself. At least the elves in Raven Rock are miserable together."
Gelebor winced at the pressure. "I've been meaning to ask why you live so far from your people."
"So many questions." She pushed harder with the cloth, and Gelebor groaned. "Too curious for your own good. Answer me this, last of the snow elves. You said you had to leave your chantry. Why?"
"I'd prefer not to speak of that, if it's all the same to you. The memory is unpleasant."
"I live so far from Raven Rock because I'm sick of helping raise up a bunch of ungrateful elves that'll just be kicked back into the ash in a decade or two." Nadene put aside the bloodstained rag and measured a length of bandage from the roll. "I've answered your question. Now reciprocate."
He sighed. "During my long years in the Vale, I've watched the Betrayed – the Falmer – slowly regain some of the intelligence that the Dwemer stole from them. They've built a culture, of sorts, in the dark corners of Skyrim's underground. A vile, reprehensible society of barbed flesh and forbidden magic, but a society nonetheless. This gave me hope they might one day open a dialogue."
"I've never encountered the Falmer, but it sounds like you'd be better off wiping them out." Nadene pressed the bandage over his wound, smoothing the corners with her slim fingers.
"Such an undertaking would be beyond me, both physically and spiritually. To utterly destroy the dim shadow of the snow elves...at the end of the bloodshed, I would have no other choice but to fall on my sword. To join my people in Auriel's kingdom, voluntarily."
"You don't seem too repulsed by the idea." Nadene glanced up at him from her work. "In any case, you still haven't answered me."
Gelebor tried not to think of the day in question, for whenever he summoned the memory to the forefront of his attention, a wave of shame and disappointment came with it. The last time he'd pondered about what had happened for more than a few moments, he'd fallen into a long depression. But this woman saved my life. I owe her a tale, if nothing else.
"On a cloudy day in the Vale, I awoke by my wayshrine hearing the cries of an infant. At first, I wasn't sure what the sound was – I hadn't seen or heard a baby for more years than your race has existed. But something in my heart hearkened to the call. For so long I'd watched adventurers walk away after speaking with me, only to end up dead. I just wanted to save someone. I ran towards the sound, away from Auriel's protection. There was a youngling of the Betrayed, scarcely more than a year old, crying alone in the snow. At such a young age, the baby looked similar so similar to my own kind. It recalled memories of my own brother's birth. Memories I'd long thought lost to time. I took a step towards the infant." Gelebor breathed in, and closed his eyes.
"It was a trap," Nadene guessed.
"Yes. The Betrayed fell on me with spells and sword. They had no care for their own youngling's survival, but I managed to attract their attention away from the baby. In the process, I lost my mace and my path back to the wayshrines. They attacked with unrelenting fury. Eventually, day by day, I was driven into the caves and then out into Skyrim. I don't know what they did with the infant."
"Do you ever plan to return?" She patted the bandage and rose to her feet, turning away from him. "To kill the bastards and reclaim your little chapel?"
"To what end?" Gelebor grabbed the handle of the door and pulled himself up. His bruises throbbed at the effort, but the pain in his torso was dulled. "The relics of my sovereign were taken from the Great Chantry years before my exodus. The Inner Sanctum was destroyed, and my afflicted brother put to rest. Only bitter memories and eternal solitude wait for me in the Forbidden Vale. Out here, at least the passage of time has a meaning. My beard grows. My body ages."
Despite her abrasiveness, Nadene seemed to hang on to his every word as he spoke. Gelebor had a feeling she didn't speak to others often. She beckoned to him from the blue hearth, sitting herself down in one of the chairs. He obeyed, glancing as he walked at the bizarre décor on the walls and inhaling the arboreal fragrance of the tower. It occurs to me I don't really know this woman. She could be a witch or dark sorceress of some kind.
"Are you a witch?" Gelebor sat down in the chair opposite her, leaning away from the heat of the fire.
Nadene smiled. "Yes. I've healed you up so that you'll be a better thrall when the time comes. It'd be terribly inconvenient if I asked you to fetch my tea and you went and died on the way to the kitchen."
"I have an odd proposition," he said, leaning forward. "Perhaps you're not a witch, and I can serve you in a more willing manner. I'll carry out any tasks you ask of me, maybe not as well as a dark elf but with just as much tenacity and determination. All I ask in return is a place to rest my head."
"Hmm." Nadene drummed her fingers against the arm of the chair. "Sounds like I should just hire a Dunmer, then, yes? Azura knows this island is lousy with them. Or find the strong orc I wanted in the first place, since Geldis has failed me."
"Ah, but the world is full of orcs and dark elves." Gelebor gestured to her decorations. "I can tell you're a woman of discerning taste. No one else in Tamriel could say they have a snow elf in their employ. You'd be the envy of reclusive forest witches from here to Falkreath."
Nadene laughed. "No one knows I live here that would care what sort of elf I use to scrub my dishes. But there's some truth in what I say. You're a little less depressing to have around than one of my own kind would be. And you have better stories."
He nodded. "Thousands of years worth. I often tell them to myself, so I don't forget."
"Alright." She looked at him, biting her lip. "A trial run. For entertaining me this long, you've earned a night's rest. Tomorrow, you'll go out into the forest with my guar and find him a mate. He's the last of his clutch, and I miss all the little ones scurrying about."
"Agreed," Gelebor replied without hesitation. "You have my undying gratitude for granting me this chance. Your guar will have a marriage ceremony that Mara herself would shed tears to witness."
"We'll see about that." Nadene raised her hand, and a long fur cloak floated down from the upper level to fall on his head. "Put this on. You can't go mate-hunting with your bare chest exposed. The lady guars need to focus on Dagoth Ur."
"That's your beast's name?" Gelebor slipped on the garment, finding it a reasonable fit.
"Yes. Mean anything to you?"
He shook his head. "If it's all the same, I'll call him 'Ur' for short. Would you like me to sleep on the couch or the floor?"
Nadene huffed in amusement, and pointed her chin towards the door. "I feel that you and my baby need to bond a little before your gentleman's escapade. Besides, I don't even know you aren't an albino Altmer with an impressive imagination and creeping eyes. Go on, Ur won't mind sharing."
Gelebor rose from the chair and bowed. "As you command, miss Othryn."
She glared. "The guar pen is too good for you. Get out of sight before I change my mind."
He hid a smile behind his hand, and thanked her again for her kindness before leaving the tower. The sun had fallen, and fireflies hovered around the clearing, dim beacons in the darkness. He used their light to find the pen. Ur was still snoring away, and Gelebor laid down nearby in the bouncy straw. He fell into a restful sleep listening to the gentle in and out of breath, content for the moment with the state of his life and faith.