The child grew all too quickly, Lellynhall thought. Already she was forming coherent sentences and walking everywhere she went. Lellynhall knew she could not raise her with the daily visits she had given to this point. She would actually have to care for her herself.
Her maid and appointed nanny, an old Imperial by the name of Peregrina, the same woman she'd met in the Merchant's Inn three years ago, would agree, for she had grown tired of caring for the child so extensively.
Lellynhall had taken a home in Anvil in order to raise the child. The city was a good choice, close to the docks, should she ever decide to run, and had many Dunmer families, should Nelezavra ever feel the need to mingle with her own kind as she grew older. Whether or not they would accept her was another matter.
Despite swearing off the life, Lellynhall found it very difficult to live as a normal woman, and mother, should. She renewed her old membership in the Fighters Guild, and found herself doing contracts again, mostly small jobs, but, on occasion, she would feel the itch far stronger, and would take the hard jobs, the most dangerous of the lot. While few and far between, in her two years in Anvil, she had been tasked with wiping out three entire tribes of goblins that had moved into local mines, and had searched four separate Aylied ruins at the request of clients. Still, it never felt enough.
And it probably never would be.
"Could you read me a story?" Nelezavra asked her one evening as she was sent off to bed.
Lellynhall looked around the hall, hoping to spot Peregrina, and pass the responsibility off to her.
"I'm sure Peregrina would be happy to."
"Perry's sleeping," the girl said with a tone of finality, taking Lellynhall by the hand.
"Oh, well, I suppose I have the time..."
And with that, Lellynhall found herself sitting at the edge of the girl's bed, a book in her hands. At first, she was embarrassed to read it, especially the parts that called for the reader to mime the sound of a drum, and, glancing ahead, noticed with dread that she'd have to sing as well. Still, as the story went on, Nelezavra looked overcome with glee, and burst with laughter at each "klo klo" of the drums, which Lellynhall didn't find to be repelling or obnoxious, as she thought she might.
"Roll me down down down to the river that welcomes me," she forced herself to sing, Nelezavra joining in, knowing the words by heart.
"I am a Welcome Stone," Lellynhall sang with a bit more comfort and found herself grinning here and there, much to her surprise. The evening went on in this way for some time, till eventually Nelezavra began to drift to sleep.
"'Look how silly it is!'," she whispered, book still in hand. "'Water is the silliest thing!' And with that, the rock started to laugh'..."
Looking over, Lellynhall saw that the child's breathing had slowed to that of a deep sleep, and shut the book. She went to tuck the girl in, but found herself staring for the longest time.
Had she been a Redguard, or a human child at all, Lellynhall would have been alarmed by her thinness, how delicate of frame she seemed. But she was no human, and for the first time Lellynhall thought of the implications of that. She could become a danger to herself, she thought, remembering the Dunmer affinity for destructive magic. She made a mental note to ask a representative of the Mages Guild the next day about how children handle these things. She would also consult the local schools to ask when she ought to enroll the girl.
With all these thoughts, thoughts going farther into the future with each second, Lellynhall began to feel ill. Her face belied panic, and she seemed to reach for a sword that wasn't there. After a moment, she left the room with a hand clutching her stomach, leaving the candles lit and the girl outside her blanket. She stumbled out the back door and into the city.
For the next three days, Lellynhall busied herself with a particularly risky contract for the Fighters Guild in an attempt to restore the distance between herself and the toddler. Feeling as though she crossed a boundary she was not made to cross, Lellynhall lost herself in the battle before her.
She swung her sword, a gaudy, Daedric thing in the style of Akaviri blades, and tore through the chest of a bandit, dropping him to the floor. The remaining three dashed off into the darkness of the cave.
Lellynhall extinguished the lone torch that adorned the wall and dropped to a crouch, reaching into her haversack. After a moment of feeling around she produced a small vial, uncorked it, and downed its contents.
Lellynhall removed her boots and secured them to her sides as she waited for the potion to take effect. Soon, the darkness she perceived gave way to light and she pressed on, sword in hand, careful not to make a noise. She easily found the three men, and drove her blade through the back of the closest one. Pulling her sword free, she swung at the other's neck, connecting in a spray of blood. Lellynhall set her eyes upon the remaining one, but had lost track of him.
From behind her came a sudden blinding light which turned the effects of her potion against her. She spun around, utterly blind, and swung ahead of her. Her sword slashed uselessly against stone and she felt a thin dagger slip between a gap in the plates of her armor and into her flesh. Her breath seemed to escape from her lungs, and she felt her head grow light. Still, she turned and swung, this time missing both the wall and her target. She fell to her knees as the dagger slipped into her flesh a second time and concentrated all of her thoughts onto a ring she wore on her right hand. The blinding light faded instantly to an innocuous glow and Lellynhall swung with all her remaining strength at the silhouette beside her, nearly cleaving the head from the body.
Gasping, she grabbed at her wounds and collapsed on her stomach. The light slowly faded with the bandit's death, and it took a moment to realize that she was not simply falling unconscious. Struggling to focus on a second ring, Lellynhall felt her wounds seal quickly and painfully. Her bleeding was done, but that had left would take its time to return. Lellynhall slept.
A dozen hours later, Lellynhall awoke, the pain in her sides still too much to bear. While she slept, she dreamt of Nelezavra. The mood, details, and context of the dream eluded her, but the subject remained.
Lifting herself from the ground slowly she examined the corpses of the bandits, already beginning to smell. From the now headless Altmer she removed a ring, and set off for Anvil.
By nightfall Lellynhall returned home and slipped inside as quietly as she could. Once in her room, the door locked behind her, she lit a candle and removed her cloak, sword, and armor, locking it all away in a chest below her bed.
Removing her shirt, she approached her mirror, inspecting the gashes at her sides. With a sigh, she reached into a chest and brought out a new shirt, this one free of blood. She slipped it on and tip-toed to Nelezavra's room.
She was sleeping, naturally. In her arms she clutched the book Lellynhall had read her just a few nights before; a dying candle sat on the stand beside her bed.
After a moment's hesitation she tucked the girl in and kissed her forehead as lightly as she could manage.