"Dagoth Ur is dead. I hope we will no longer be troubled by his dreams. But I wonder, too, what the ghost of a god would be. And can a dead god dream?" - Hassour Zainsubani
Gelebor awoke to a red guar snuffling at his shoulder. He patted Ur's snout gently and stood up, stretching his long legs. The pen, with its piles of clean straw and bundles of packed cloth, had indeed been one of the more comfortable beds of his life. Vythur would be bewildered to see me now, as either of the elves I knew him as. The morning sun peaked over the top of the treeline, bathing the mushroom tower in dappled rays of orange. The fragrance of garden flowers filled the air, a stark and welcome contrast to the devastation of the rest of Solstheim. In a way, Nadene's clearing was an island of its own, an oasis of life and beauty among the gray wastes.
"A marvelous day for love's discovery," he remarked to Ur.
"Morning, boys." Above them, Nadene leaned over the porch railing with a steaming cup of tea in her hands. She wore a nightrobe and had a small linen sack at her feet. "Remember: either Ur comes back with a lady friend, or Ur comes back alone."
"You should come along." Gelebor ran his pale fingers along the petals of a colorful flower patch growing along the curve of the tower. "It's sure to be a thrilling venture, whatever the outcome."
"No thanks. A woman can only be a part of so many bestial courtship rituals in two hundred years time. I'm sure you'll be fine alone."
She's lived here for that long? Fascinating. "Don't fret. I've quite a bit of practice in the art of solitude."
"I was talking to Ur, fetcher." She pushed the sack through the porch rails with her foot. "The seeds and berries in there will attract guars. They'll also help keep Ur close."
"Wouldn't it be wise for me to have a leash of some sort?" Gelebor snatched up the treasure before Ur could lunge. The red guar pushed against the fence gate, squeaking excitedly.
"Unnecessary. My guars always return here. They know where their food comes from." Nadene waved a dismissive hand at the surrounding forest. "Now run along. Ur's future lover is somewhere in those trees. And watch out for more werebears; they usually hunt in packs." With that, she turned away. A second later the tower door shut.
"Let's go, my friend." Gelebor opened the gate and Ur scurried out. Just as Nadene predicted, he stuck close to Gelebor's left side, where the sack was secured in the pocket of his cloak. Even with the thick garment on, the sun's heat was not disagreeable. His new employer had picked wisely the spot of her dwelling, where the warmth of the volcanic wastes converged with the frost of the ancient glades. Ur led him to a small dirt path leading into the forest, presumably used before on expeditions of a similar nature. If not for the guar, Gelebor would never have found the trail himself.
"I hope she wasn't serious about the werebears," he said to Ur. They went languidly through the snowy pines, only the crunching of the ground beneath breaking the frigid silence. A few hardy birds flew from tree to tree far above, sending down clumps of snow, but otherwise there was no sign of life in their surroundings. Perhaps we'll have to journey to the ash wastes. I'm not certain how far they are, given that we teleported here.
As the hours passed, Gelebor was reminded of walking the forests of the Vale with his fellow knights, to maintain the more remote Wayshrines or gather food for the Great Chantry's many worshipers. The Betrayed had first surfaced when he'd gone on one such quest. From the Wayshrine of Sight, Gelebor and Prelate Athring had watched as smoke ascended the sky from the Inner Sanctum. Hunched, monstrous figures had streamed in from caves around the Vale, and even from such a distance Gelebor had known their numbers to be overwhelming. Was Auriel watching as solemnly as the elves that loved him most were massacred by those they'd once called kin? How many of my brothers and sisters were kneeling in desperate prayer in their final moments?
The only action his lord had taken was to permit some of the prelates to return as ghostly shades, lost to all senses and confused when they wandered beyond their meager boundaries. Even Prelate Athring, who had walked off the tallest cliff in the Vale rather than persist in the new cruel world where the word Falmer was a curse, had been brought back to his Wayshrine after death. At the time, Gelebor hadn't questioned the wisdom of Auriel. Now he thought it near unforgivable that his old friends had been deprived of their final rest to guard the totems of a people that would never return to prayer. Perhaps I was as much a ghost as any of them. Perhaps my sole purpose was to provide greedy heroes the opportunity to acquire Auriel's Bow, to snatch up a powerful artifact hidden among the decaying bones of my race. He'd been ripped from the Vale not long after the Dragonborn and his friend had completed their task. Perhaps that hadn't been mere coincidence.
These treasonous thoughts come too easily for a Knight-Paladin, Gelebor chided himself. It also wasn't coincidence that his life had been saved twice in two weeks by the kindness of strangers. Auriel watches over me, even here.
Ur stopped, chirping at the air, and Gelebor almost tripped over him. The guar took off in a random direction, hopping and squeaking madly. Gelebor had to jog swiftly to keep up. Glad I'm not wearing my armor now, at least. He ducked under branches and stepped deftly over rocks, fighting to keep Ur in sight. If he lost track of Nadene's pet, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to navigate back to her tower alone.
"Slow down," Gelebor gasped. He grabbed the berry pouch from his flapping cloak and waved it in the air, hoping to attract Ur's attention. The guar halted, racing back towards him, and Gelebor was so taken aback he tripped over a large root and tumbled head over heels down the incline. The ground rose up to slam against his injured body several times, until he finally stilled at the foot of a massive tree.
Gelebor groaned and wiped the dirt and ash from his face. The cloak Nadene had given him was filthy and torn, and his battered limbs sported fresh bruises. Fortunately, the bandages on his torso seemed undamaged.
"I believe this island is killing me, Ur," Gelebor said wearily. Ur was licking up the contents of the berry pouch, which had split open during the fall. "And it's doing so over a painfully long period of time."
Their attention was drawn to a rustling in the bushes. A purple guar plodded through the snow towards them, sniffing cautiously in the direction of the spilt berries. Ur continued eating, oblivious. But Gelebor couldn't let this chance go to waste. Ur comes back with a lady friend, or Ur comes back alone. The thought of returning to Raven Rock in failure was too painful to even consider. He stood up slowly, careful to not make any sudden movements.
The purple guar began eating next to Ur, and he looked up in surprise, grunting softly. I wonder when he last encountered one of his own kind. Gelebor wasn't sure where to go from here. Nadene hadn't explained how the guars would decide if they were fit for each other or not. He wasn't even sure if it was a female guar now finishing off the berries next to Ur.
"Peace to you, guar of Solstheim."
The sound of his voice startled the beast, and it shot off wide-eyed into the forest. No! Gelebor ran after it, Ur following close behind. Fortunately, the guar's purple skin was highly visible among the whites and browns of the forest, and this time Gelebor kept on the look out for high roots. This little creature is my salvation. Little by little, he was gaining on the guar. Being stuffed with berries must have slowed it down a tad.
They broke through to an opening in the forest. Auriel's mercy. This forest is not so godless after all. A towering crimson shrine dominated the clearing. Dark and crumbling stone held up the construction, and faded runes of an unrecognizable origin were smeared all over. Newer designs in an ugly green hue had been placed over them, somewhat recently. The fresh paints depicted scenes of a gruesome nature: humanoid figures with missing body parts, children with mouths opened in silent screams, crowds with their arms raised in malevolent worship. Gelebor knew from his first glance that whoever this totem celebrated, new designs or old, they were a sworn enemy of the glorious Aedra and everything they'd created. The purple guar looked up, momentarily stunned, and Gelebor grabbed it firmly.
"You there," a woman's voice called out. "Stop where you are." From around the shrine, heavy footsteps. There was no time to hide. A figure in strange garments approached. The armor seemed similar to the chitin many of the natives wore, but a singular wicked eyepiece took the place of the signature goggles. Instead of a chestplate and greaves, the woman wore a light burgundy robe, and a large red medallion stretched down from her shoulder plates to gleam with dire power. "Name yourself."
"I'm called Gelebor." He hesitated for a moment before continuing, then laughed at himself inwardly. Now would be a poor time to begin fearing death. "A Knight-Paladin in the service of Auriel. Akatosh, to many. My apologies for intruding on your prayer."
"No one has knelt before these stones for centuries. I'd expect an Altmer to have a better grasp of history. Are you so ignorant as to not recognize the sigils of the Sixth House?" She drew a cruel-looking dagger from her hip. Behind Gelebor, Ur had finally caught up.
"My knowledge of Morrowind's past is imperfect, I admit." Gelebor tensed his sore legs, preparing to run at any moment. Unarmored and unarmed, he had no chance of surviving an encounter with this strange woman's blade. "Though I believe I recognize the newer markings on the shrine. Are you a servant of Namira?"
"You insult me." The woman took a step towards him, and Gelebor took a step back. "I serve only the prince of murder, lies, and deception. You speak to an assassin of the Morag Tong."
"I see. You don't seem to be employing the latter two of your deities' strengths, seeing as you've just told me your identity." Gelebor slowly inched away, the purple guar resistant to his pull.
He heard the smile in her voice as she responded. "I'm searching for a Dunmer woman who's been marked for honorable execution longer than any other. Each time, the price has gone up. Many have failed to find her, and more than that have died by her hand."
"I wish you good fortune in that endeavor, but as we are two guars and a male elf, we can't really be of assistance."
"Halt, s'wit. I know this Dunmer lives nearby. I see the guar behind you is well fed, and lacks the wildness of forest beasts."
"Ah, yes. A lucky find. He'll fetch me a fine price in Raven Rock."
The assassin circled around him, dagger raised, blocking his escape. "You're foolish to try to trick a follower of Mephala. Akatosh has no power on this island of the Daedra. Lead me to my target, and I may let you flee with your life."
He sighed. There were no dark elves around to rescue him this time. He knelt, and gently let go of the purple guar. It scampered off, and Ur swiftly followed. Good luck, my friend.
"You're wrong," Gelebor said.
"What?"
"Wherever the sun shines, Auriel is with me." He stood up, stretching his shoulders. Before Knight-Paladins were allowed to wield weapons, they first had to master the combat of bare fists. He did not recall fondly those hours of martial drills, sparring with his fellow trainees, bare-chested and sweating in the morning snow. But they would serve him well now. "You can still leave. I've no quarrel with you or your god."
She laughed. "I didn't come here to kill you, priest, but my honor demands I defend myself. I won't feel regret when I stand over your corpse." Faster than wind, her dagger sliced forward.
Gelebor dodged under her arm and slammed his elbow into her face, shattering the eyepiece and sending her reeling. Quickly, he danced out of reach of her blade.
She growled and tore off the damaged helmet, throwing it aside. Her crimson eyes held him in more contempt than he thought existed in the world.
Before she could attack again, Gelebor rushed forward. She hesitated for only a moment, caught off guard, but it was enough time for him to grab her dagger arm. They wrestled, grunting and panting, each trying to twist the weapon into an opportune position. The assassin was powerful, but obviously inexperienced in unarmed combat. The outcome was a foregone conclusion. Gelebor found the right angle and sent a silent prayer to Auriel. Then he fell backwards with her arm in his grasp.
The woman screamed in agony as her bones broke and the dagger fell into the grass. Gelebor snatched the weapon and watched as she yelled curses and threats, cradling her injured arm.
"Finish me, n'wah." She looked at him hatefully. "A crippled Morag Tong assassin is worthless. I'll never again spill blood with this arm."
"How unfortunate," he said quietly. "I'm not going to kill you. Leave this place, while you still can."
The assassin didn't take her eyes off of him as she retreated into the woods, fury apparent in every stilted step. He waited a while after she'd left, watching the treeline. I've a feeling this isn't the last I'll see of her.
"Khajiit approaches unarmed, elf. Please lower your own blade."
Gelebor gasped, turning with the dagger raised. A Khajiit in steel plate armor had entered the clearing, his longword sheathed.
"You do not appear to have taken my advice." The Khajiit wore a thick fur hood, and peered at him curiously. "I am Kharjo. Does the sickly elf have a name?"
"Yes," he replied, lowering the weapon. "I'm Knight-Paladin Gelebor, servant of Auriel. Apologies for my aggression; I've just fought off another visitor to this shrine, one of murderous intent. A Morag Tong assassin, searching for a new friend of mine."
"Understandable." Kharjo looked up at the bizarre shrine. "These stones are visible from quite a distance. It is inevitable that a totem of such evil would attract followers of the same making, yes?"
"If I may ask, Kharjo, what brings you so far from civilization?"
"My response may awaken suspicion in you, but have no fear. Khajiit seeks an audience with likely the same elf your assassin sought. Though I have no wish to invade her privacy. I simply wish for you to deliver a message to miss Othryn, and to invite her to join us at the Retching Netch."
Nadene is becoming quite popular in this forest. "Your message?"
"Tell her that servants of darkness walk once more in the shadow of the mountain. Tell her that she must return where she began. And tell her that she is not forgotten; that the Twin Lamps shine in remembrance, even now."
"Very well. I'll bring your words back to Nadene." The message was nonsense to Gelebor, but he respected the Khajiit's wishes.
"We are grateful."
"Might I ask you for a favor in return?" He'd suddenly realized that without Ur, he had about as much clue about how to get back to Nadene's tower as the assassin. "I've misplaced two guars. One red, the other a lighter shade of purple. They are intended to fall in love, though I'm not certain of the purple's gender."
Kharjo inclined his head towards the opposite side of the shrine, whiskers twitching in amusement. "Khajiit can lay that matter to rest. Your purple beast is a female, or else presently quite uncomfortable."
Gelebor walked to where Kharjo was standing, and followed his gaze. "Oh, dear. I suppose this was the whole idea, but I'd been hoping they'd wait until we got back."
"Love is oftentimes inconvenient. I wish you and your beasts warm days and cool nights, Knight Gelebor. " With that, Kharjo left them.
Night had fallen by the time they reached the mushroom tower. The two guar had slowed down, exhausted from the days events, so Gelebor had no trouble keeping up. The sight of the mycelial spire was a surprising comfort considering how little time he'd spent there. Ur and his new mate made for the guar pen. The round windows of the tower glowed blue, and colorful smoke trickled from the chimney; Nadene was still awake, awaiting their arrival. Gelebor closed the pen gate and ascended the stairs, his bones weary and his old wounds crying out. Perhaps one day, I'll go to rest on Solstheim without my body aching. There was a comforting warmness in his muscles, though, from his brawl with the assassin. It had been too long since he'd exerted himself in such a way. I hope she heeds my warning.
He entered quietly, in case he was wrong about his matron's state of consciousness. The scents of the tower fell on him like a cool blanket: fresh herbs and flowers, earth and mycelial matter, faint traces of oils used to maintain armors and weapons. Nadene's shadow flickered against the back wall, stooped in concentration. She sat in one of the chairs around the hearth, and had not yet noticed him.
"Nadene," Gelebor called out as he approached. "I've returned."
He arrived in time to see her fold away a letter into a pocket of her night cloak, a strange look on her face. But when Nadene looked up again, it was with the same challenge and provocation she'd presented since their first meeting.
"I'll admit, I'm surprised to see you again." Her eyes traced down his battered body. "Though it looks like you've managed to hurt yourself again. Your fragile little snow elf body bruises as easily as a fresh belladonna berry." She didn't ask if Ur had found a mate. He found it pleasing that she placed enough trust in him to know he'd not return with the task unfinished.
"There were some developments," Gelebor replied, collapsing into the chair opposite her. "We encountered two characters of note, as well as a shrine to gods unknown."
Nadene drummed her fingers against the arm of her chair. "I'm aware of the shrine."
"The new markings, as well?"
She leaned forward and grabbed his shoulders, eyes wide. "New markings? New markings on a fucking Sixth House shrine?" Her voice was almost hysterical.
"The designs were made by worshipers of Namira," Gelebor said, taken aback by her sudden panic. "The Daedric Prince of darkness and revulsion."
"Oh." Nadene winded down, settling back into her chair. "I've not had dealings with her before. Probably just some forest cult I'll have to go wipe out sooner or later. But go on about these strangers in my woods."
"The first was an assassin of the Morag Tong. Meant for you, I believe."
"B'vek." Nadene sighed. "Every few decades, some s'wits in Hlaalu convince those old losers to come after me again. They're still bitter about losing their place on the Grand Council. One nice thing about the Morag Tong; if you kill enough of them, they go away for a long time. They have some foolish notion of honor. So where'd you bury the body? If her friends find her corpse soon, they'll probably fuck off back to the mainland."
"I didn't kill her. She posed no threat after I broke her arm."
"You did what?" Nadene stared at him, mouth set in a thin line. "You're not really telling me you left that murderous Mephala-loving bitch alive in my backyard."
Gelebor nodded.
She cursed at him and stood up, reaching out to twist a dial on the hearth. The azure flames went out and they were plunged into darkness.
"Now I'm going to have to sleep with one eye open until she resurfaces," Nadene snapped. "Except next time she'll be as furious as a cliff racer. You've gone and made it personal."
"I'm sorry, Nadene." Gelebor's shoulders slumped. "I'm not your hired mercenary. She didn't choose to attack me or the guars after being disabled. I won't take life in cold blood, even for you."
"Great." She ran a hand over her face. "Fine. It's done with. Tell me about the other fetcher you met in my forest."
"A Khajiit warrior, named Kharjo. He was also searching for you, though without malicious intent."
"Never heard of him." Nadene levitated a few candlesticks from one of the hanging shelves to land on the small table between them. "Light these up. I don't know any fire spells."
He smiled. "Then you're still better off than me. I know no spells whatsoever."
She glared at him for a moment, but then the corner of her mouth curled up. "How can an elf go thousands of years worshiping the sun without learning how to light a candle?"
"Auriel created me for a different purpose," Gelebor replied. Nadene reached under the table and withdrew a few dry bundles. She rubbed a few of them together until thin wisps of flame grew, and then lit the candle wicks. Unlike the hearth, the light burned as orange as the eyes of a vampire.
"You're quite the alchemist," he complimented.
She shook her head. "I know a few tricks, but never got farther than that."
He raised an eyebrow. "Then why all the ingredients?"
"I enjoy the colors. If all I had to look at was gray dirt and gray sky and gray plants, I'd have cut out my eyes by now. I don't know how those rubes in Raven Rock can stand it."
"With an exceeding amount of irritation and spite."
She smiled with her eyes. "What did this Kharjo want from me?"
"He said to deliver this message: servants of darkness walk once more in the shadow of the mountain. You must return where you began. You are not forgotten; the Twin Lamps shine in remembrance, even now."
"Utter gibberish, it sounds like." She showed no reaction to the words, though Gelebor couldn't tell if she was being deceptive. "Pay it no mind. I certainly won't."
"Are you certain?" Gelebor leaned forward. "He wished to meet you in Raven Rock. This Khajiit knew your name, and the general location of your tower. Surely he's at least worth talking to."
"Nope. Maybe he was another assassin, probably trying to trick you. Azura knows you're naive enough to believe anything."
"Alright." For whatever reason, he felt disappointed in her response. "Though I feel you're hiding things from me. I hope you know I can be trusted, whatever your secrets."
"I'll trust you not to indulge that dangerous curiosity of yours. I need a laborer and a guard, Gelebor, not a confidant." With a wave of her hand, Nadene put out the candles. "Well done with Ur. You've earned the couch. I doubt you'd get much sleep in the pen tonight anyway, with those two lovebirds going at it."
He smiled faintly, though he could barely see her. "I can remain here, then?"
"For now." Nadene's crimson eyes glowed in the darkness. "I haven't lived with another elf in many years. But so far, my uses for you outweight my lack of tolerance for others."
"That's very kind of you."
"Bah." She turned away and began to climb the staircase to the loft. "If you start snoring, it's back with the guars in an instant. I don't care how frisky they get."
Gelebor watched her leave. After a few minutes had passed, he knelt before the hearth and began his evening mantras. He only mouthed the words, so as not to disturb Nadene.
Even so, soon enough he heard footsteps on the balcony above.
"No one is listening, you know." Her voice was quieter than usual. "This is a godless place."
He silently continued his prayers to Auriel, not looking up. Nadene's presence lingered for a moment, and then she left him alone with his god.