Disclaimer: I do not own Elder Scrolls: Oblivion and its characters. Bethesda Studios does.
A/N: I decided to try a new format for the stories. The big, chunky paragraphs seem to be a little hard on the eyes at times. Tell me what you think! :3
The Adoring Fan Makes Friends with Glarthir
As the Adoring Fan and the Arena Grand Champion, The Iron Maiden, passed through Skingrad one evening, they came across a bar that wafted the most enticing scent—the smell of freshly poured beer and well-aged wine.
The Iron Maiden also had an iron gut, since she could drink herself to the pub floor without vomiting once.
Although she loved her alcohol, she also loved her Adoring Fan.
She would pamper him like a pet to take along on trips such as this one.
The Adoring Fan didn't mind the attention, though, since he held love for her greater than that of a simple admirer: He was fascinated with her.
The Adoring Fan could not resist the Iron Maiden's strong, voluptuous Nordic figure, as well as her fair skin and unnaturally thick, black unibrow. Her soft lips hung crooked on her face, and her golden hair contained more volume and tangles than a bloated Harrada plant. Maybe the gold and fame made her attractive, or maybe the Fan's Beer Goggles granted her an artificial beauty.
Whether it was true love or not, the Adoring Fan was obsessed with this woman.
The Iron Maiden grabbed her Adoring Fan's hand and brought him inside the tavern. They attracted immediate attention once they were inside. A Nord prancing about with a two-heads-smaller Bosmer on her arm just commands odd looks from folks. The pair sat down at the bar together and ordered a Surilie Brothers to share.
The bartender slid them the bottle and said, "Welcome to the West Weald Inn. I'm Erina Jeranus, the proprietor."
"Pleased to meet you. I am The Iron Maiden—Arena Grand Champion."
The Adoring Fan puffed out his chest. "And my name is—"
"Wow! Arena Grand Champion! What brings you two to these parts? Not many famous folks come all the way out to Skingrad. They usually have our wine delivered to their mansions."
The Iron Maiden blushed. "We plan to visit the harbor in Anvil. It's a trip between—close friends."
"Ah, I see," Erina said, winking. "Enjoy your drinks, now."
The Iron Maiden and the Adoring Fan spent the next hour sipping wine and enjoying fun conversations with each other and the patrons around them.
Once the wine bottle was empty, the husky Nord ordered herself two beers. The Adoring Fan, already feeling a little tipsy, refused another beverage and bought himself a sweetcake to soak up the wine in his gut. By the time the chapel belltower struck ten, The Iron Maiden had consumed almost twelve beers and a tall tankard of mead. She spoke slowly with her Adoring Fan, and her bloodshot eyes rolled about in her head as she swayed on the barstool.
"Madam," the Adoring Fan said carefully. "Don't you think you're done drinking now? You've spent almost 150 gold in the past hour."
"Dunworryhunnyy…Ihaveton—TONSof monnneeehh. I'mthe—the GraaandChampion! Icandoanything…aaaanythingIIIIwaanntt…"
And she slumped over onto the bar, her drink spilling into her lap. The Adoring Fan hated seeing his love this way. By now the whole tavern reeked of beer breath and sweat, and he needed some air. The Adoring Fan stood up and left The Iron Maiden drooling at the bar.
The humid summer night rang with chirping crickets and puking drunkards. The Adoring Fan slowly wandered the city, admiring its elegant stone buildings. As he passed the Great Chapel, an urgent voice said, "Pssst! Over here!" The confused Bosmer turned around, but nobody was there.
"Pssst! Over here!"
Again, the Adoring Fan could not find where the voice was coming from, and he began searching high and low—even in barrels and flowerbeds nearby—for it.
"Pssst! Over here!"
The Adoring Fan shrugged. "I'm sorry, but I can't seem to find you."
"Over here, dumbass!" A hand grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him into the alley next to the Chapel.
When the hand released him, the Adoring Fan regained his balance and asked, "Who, me?"
"Yes, you! We need to talk."
"What do you need?"
"We can't talk here. Too public. Meet me behind the Great Chapel at midnight. Don't let anyone follow you. I'll make it worth your while."
"You're not, um, propositioning me, are you?"
The voice, now determined as that of a male wood elf, paused for a moment. "Um, no. Not at all. Just follow me to the Great Chapel."
"But we're already there."
"Oh…so we are," the strange wood elf said. He cleared his throat and pulled a lit torch from out of nowhere.
The Adoring Fan had no clue how this elf could possibly conjure a torch without the "poof" or pizzazz of magic, let alone light it in the blink of an eye.
"Hello, I am Glarthir. And I have a problem."
"I don't know if I am the right person to talk to about your alcoholism, Mister Glarthir."
"No! That's not my problem."
"Is it *ahem* an intimate problem, then? A Skooma issue?"
"No and no! Here's my problem. I'm being followed…"
As Glarthir ranted on, the Adoring Fan's Astonishing Desire to Have Daydreams brought him to the thought of how people come to be in the world.
There were no "children" there in Cyrodiil, nor in any other province, but he has read about them in books. Apparently, in what is called an "Alternate Di-Mention" by the high mages, "this" world was called Urth and was very abundant with children.
And many years ago there, a great fireball scorched the land and covered it in glow dust, and the event was dubbed The Great Fallout III. The sentient beings there, called Hue Men, had to fend for themselves in The Great Wasteland. The Adoring Fan wondered what the other "him" would look like and be called.
"The Annoying Man," he said with a smile. It has such a good ring to it. And he would have a red-and-yellow wizard's hat with golden sparks coming out of the top! Oh, what a great other me that would be!
"I need you to check out some people for me. The ones that are following me. Watch them, see where they go, who they report to. Will you help me?"
The Adoring Fan snapped back into reality. "Annoying Man… Oh! Uh, yes, I'll help you."
"Let's start with Bernadette Peneles. Be outside my house at 6 AM, you'll see her watching me. See where she goes and who she reports to. We'll meet here again tomorrow night. Oh, and NEVER contact me in public. They're watching. They can't know you're helping me."
The Adoring Fan left Glarthir awkwardly standing in the alley. "Bernadette Peneles. Six o'clock," he mumbled to himself.
He glanced at the clocktower. It was half past midnight. To pass the time until his task, he returned to the West Weald Inn, bought a room for himself and The Iron Maiden, and helped her into bed. Once he knew she was safe and away from the bar, he ventured to Bernadette Peneles's house and waited there.
He knew The Iron Maiden needed a good twelve hours to sleep off the alcohol, so he followed Bernadette all day with little distraction. He found nothing out of the ordinary about her, but when she approached him about why he was stalking her, he said, "Glarthir was wondering why you were following him."
"I didn't think I was so obvious, but I fancy Glarthir a little. He's kind of cute. Could you tell him I like him for me? You seem to be a good friend of his for helping him out."
"No problem, Miss Peneles. I'll tell him."
She kissed him on the cheek. 'Thank you."
And he left, blushing a little. He met Glarthir behind the Great Chapel that evening.
"So, you saw Bernadette Peneles, did you? She WAS watching and following me, wasn't she?"
"Yes, she was following you."
"Just as I thought, just as I thought. Excellent work. There will be a bonus in this for you, don't worry," Glarthir said. He handed the Adoring Fan a bag of 150 septims.
"But she was following you because she likes you."
"Bernadette likes me?" he asked with a hint of disgust. "Well, she isn't my type. At all. You, on the other hand…"
"What else do you want me to do?"
"Toutius Sextius, do you know him?"
"Haha, Sex-tius."
"Oh, grow up. He's a quiet fellow, appears harmless enough, but I've identified him as one of my key suspects. He's a clever one. No doubt about it. Eyes in the back of his head, always seems to know when I'm watching. That's where you come in."
"I'll watch him for you. I'll meet you again tonight to tell you the news, Glarthir!"
The Adoring Fan hurried back to the inn to give his gold to The Iron Maiden.
Apparently, she had blown all her own money on drinks the previous night, so they needed funds to buy food and supplies for the final leg of their journey. She allowed the Adoring Fan to help Glarthir as long as he brought back lots of gold from each task.
The Adoring Fan followed Toutius Sextius and met the paranoid Bosmer again that night.
"Tell me what you know about Toutius Sextius."
"He's following you, too," The Fan lied. He knew that if he made Glarthir happy, he would get more moolah.
After handing the Adoring Fan 200 gold, Glarthir said with a smirk, "Just as I thought, just as I thought. Excellent work. Just one more suspect left to convict. Do you know about Davide Surilie? Yes, of the famous Surilie Vineyards. Pillar of the community, et cetera. Who would ever suspect him? Perfect cover for the ringleader of the whole conspiracy! He watches my house constantly. You'll see."
"Alright, then…"
Again, he followed the suspect, and again, nothing out of the ordinary happened. He met Glarthir again at midnight.
"So, what did you discover about the upstanding Davide Surilie?"
The Adoring Fan lied again. "He's Surilie watching you."
"Haha, good pun, my friend! Great pun. You know, I appreciate your help. I believe it must have been fate that brought the two of us together," he said, his eyes wide and starry.
"Er, I'm sorry, but I'm—taken, Glarthir."
"But I still need to give you your raise."
"Raise?"
"Yes. Raise your hands high above your head and close your eyes..."
A little wary, the Adoring Fan obeyed. He felt two hands moving up his shirt…
The violated Bosmer opened his eyes and shoved Glarthir away. "No! Leave me alone!"
"Then you must die."
"Whaaat? How am I the enemy?"
"I don't want a rejected lover following me, too."
"B—But I rejected you!"
"Yes, but Toutius and Davide rejected me, too, since deep in their hearts, they knew they weren't good enough for me. Now, I guess they want a piece of good old Glarthir again."
"But I lied about them following you. I—I thought you wouldn't mpay me if I told you the truth!"
Glarthir drew a mace and readied to fight. "This is the part where you fall down and BLEED TO DEATH!"
The Adoring Fan spun on his heels and screamed for the guards as he ran from Glarthir. He dashed around corners, jumped over walls, and eventually depleted his fatigue bar.
Slowing to a jog on the main road, the Fan listened for any signs of help. He knew Glarthir was not far behind him.
To his relief, two Skingrad guards approached with their swords held high. More than happy that his plight would soon end, he crossed his arms and grinned smugly at Glarthir, who was a little more than ten feet away.
He caught up to the Adoring Fan and the guards quickly.
The guard pirouetted while swinging his sword. "Hyaaah!"
"Ooogh!"
The Adoring Fan's body defied the laws of physics and flew upward onto the Rosethorn Hall balcony.
He was paralyzed and had only 2 health points left, and he prayed to the Nine that someone would help him soon.
Glarthir, seeing that the guards had mistaken the Adoring Fan for himself, laughed quietly and went on his merry way.
The Adoring Fan's fatigue regenerated once the paralysis wore off, so by sunrise he was able to lift an arm to knock on the balcony door.
A Nord named Eyja answered. The Adoring Fan did not notice that his body was all mangled and bruised. Numb with pain, he gave her a weak smile.
"EEEEK! Zombie!" And she commenced with stomping and jumping on him until he fell still.
So I am sad to say, my friends, that our brave, perceptive, ever-healthy Adoring Fan met the Nine Divines that day...and Glarthir continued being a creeper, luring unsuspecting male adventurers into his clutches each midnight.
The End.
Next Time…
The Adoring Fan is on a Boat
