Sometimes you are the light, and sometimes you just need a little shine. I’m so delighted to hear from you and read some more story!

I wondered what I was becoming, and if I would like the result. But then I touched the leather pouch that held the carved bits of ivory, Ahnya’s birthright- and I knew.

I have wondered this, too. What an excellent and reassuring moment. I think that his own awareness can be a governor on the changes. And as Athlain says, there will be time to brood later.

“Welcome, Trey. I hope your journey was successful?”

Quick question: Did Svenja mean to call him Trey? I have wondered if Trey was around somewhere with Seth, but I might have missed something.

Athynae… it might be that making amends to her was impossible, but that did not release me from the obligation to try. And I would get my chance rather sooner than I had expected.

And while on fire, Athlain might remark: It seems that we will not freeze to death. He did a masterful job of unbalancing and tempting his dangerous opponent/love of his life. Athlain has to manage Athynae without letting her know that she is being managed, while the whole time she might have noticed and already be planning her revenge. Their interactions are a complicated delight!

I love the quiet way Brynjolfr presented what must be some of his finest work. It seemed that something of Athlain traveled into the sword along with the enchantment. Hopefully it will take Athynae’s breath away before she has a chance to shout!

OHHH! Athlain! Now be a smart guy and avoid upsetting Ms Thyna...FOR YOUR SAKE dear boy! Things are getting tighter now and I really can't wait to see more....

oh and my dear dachshund...read my reply in Athynae's thread.....hehehehehe

Oh, this was good.

The whole sequence of Athlain and Athynae accepting greater responsibilities has been impressive. The childish fears of unkillable ghosts and slinking spirits has been replaced by the very real, very complex duties of a man and a woman forcing themselves to exercise a moral code, in a responsible, demanding, and realistic manner. Growing up is hard to do, when you make it hard on yourself that you may be a better person.

That said, wits and quick thinking seem equally important, saving one a fight until after it has been won. Athlain's conversation with 'Thyna is right out of Zurin Arctus, or Sun Tzu. The Art of Love and War, Which Is Really the Same Thing: "Winning an argument with a woman is only the barest kind of victory for a man. Winning against a woman before the argument starts is the acme of a man's skill."

Keep on, Son of Trey.

Also, thanks for not being done yet. I know, I know, petty of me to say, but by not being done, I don't have to worry about finishing till well after The Elder Scrolls VI: Placeholder comes out.

An inspiration to us all, Trey. Or at least, the lazy ones.

I read this a long time ago, must have missed commenting it. (probably had a dog emergency needing to go out and lost track). I love how you described enchanting Athynae's weapon, not just a great explanation but very visual!



And now the S is going to hit the sails. Or we will see the newly matured Athynae that has developed before our eyes !! Awesome Write !!!

To quote Samwise Gamgee- "Well, I'm back." Seems appropriate what with Hobbit being on the big screen and all. And yes, I realize the quote is from The Return of the King, but anyway....

I sometimes think that if I had been the one who had knee surgery, I might have been more likely to do more writing.... As it is, my focus has been on the dear Mrs. and on the 3 four-footed beggars that seem to be draped across the furniture 23 and half hours a day.

So. Here is a post that has been long-awaited, by me as much as anyone. There was so much I wanted to get done here that I rather hung fire until I was sure it was "right". (Note to self- STOP doing that!)

Knowing that this community is still here and still attracted new writers is a great comfort to me, even if I am less "present" than I should be.

Where we are: Athlain has returned from imposing a form of frontier justice on some reavers who murdered the family of a young Nord girl, Ahnya. Ahnya was become Athynae's "apprentice," at least in the skill of archery. Besides returning from a mission of revenge, Athlain must also now face Athynae for the first time since he... "borrowed" her katana without permission. To encapsulate the significance of that act, think in terms of stealing a jewel that is actually the eye in the statue of a god- from a temple of devotees who consider blood sacrifice as necessary as breathing. Speaking of gods, looming over this all is the fact that Hircine, Daedric God of the Hunt, has invoked the Blood Moon and the Wild Hunt. The A and A team are also up to their ears in THAT... assuming Athlain has any ears left.

---------------------------------------------------

"Ahnya, the Chieftain has returned and requested an audience with you in the forge. He sent me to get you." I was still using the obedient servant voice, just not quite as thick with ‘kill you later’ running from it. “Come on girl; he doesn't need to wait.”

The expression on Ahnya’s face was tinged with fear but I didn’t really care just then.

“Yes of course, Miss... I mean Thyna. But… what's wrong?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. Why would you ask me that?” I needed to see past something, though I couldn’t figure out what. Athlain had something to tell her that was important; I knew him well enough to know that.

“Because you are scowling and you seem angry. Did I do something wrong?” Her voice quavered.

“If you had done something wrong I would have told you. I do not play games with people, Ahyna.” Well, not really, and if I do it is only Athlain- because he insists on playing them with me.

“Miss? Then will you tell me why you are angry? And why does the chieftain wish to see me? Is that why you are unhappy?” She was asking if I was jealous. I almost laughed.

“I do not know exactly why his highness wishes to speak with you. And- NO! My… annoyance isn't anything to do with you- it is all to do with him.” The Chieftain of thieves…my mind added.

“But- I thought you and he were...”

“He took something of mine that is very special to me.” The bite was unmistakable.

Ahnya’s voice was still shaking but not quite as much as it had been. “I know you fight with each other- the entire hall knows that... but... Svenja said...”

“Oh sweet mercy.” Now we get to add the mother cliff racer into this.

“ ‘Took something’ Miss... Thyna? Why would he do that? It does not seem like him at all.”

Disappointment shaded her eyes; her hero had done something less than heroic.

“He took something of mine that he had no right to take. According to Bryn it is ‘for’ me.”

“Have you asked him about it? Father always said I should ask if I did not understand something.”

“Well, I tried when he returned but he insisted on seeing you first.” Oh, I do hate when things get muddled…. “I am still very angry with him but something in my head keeps saying ‘wait for the rest of the story’ and that it has something to do with Ahnya.”.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“But-- now I do not understand. I suppose I will have to ask.” She was fighting tears, quite bravely I might add. I couldn’t help but feel pride in her.

“I think I know, but it is not for me to tell. Suffice it to say, he has accomplished something honorable and courageous all while testing my patience.”

As we neared the forge, I could hear that beloved, annoying voice chanting something in Aldmeris. The words were not anything I could recognize, but the very air seemed to vibrate with the power, and a bluish light flashed from the doorway to the forge. He was working a powerful enchantment and I wondered what the idiot thought he was up to. Well, as Ahnya had said, there was one way to find out, so I stepped through the door- just in time to see Bryn slide something under his counter and Athlain collapse onto a bench. Served him right. He always pushed himself too hard. And it would be a hot day in Solstheim before I helped him.

In the same tone Kausha used when she felt I was being especially stubborn, I announced:

“Ahnya has arrived, my Lord Athlain, as you requested.”

He tried to spring up from the bench, but had to hold onto the wall. And then he shook himself. While the healer in me wanted to do something, my anger was too strong, so I just smiled and asked:

“A bit tired are we? If you wouldn't mistreat your friends they might give you a potion.”

But the great lord and chieftain of Thirsk ignored me, and instead looked at Ahnya, who had been trying to stand as still as possible behind me. He waved her forward, and I was proud to see her step up with no hesitation. And for his part, Athlain the Rat knelt down so their eyes were level and held out a leather bag as he spoke.

"Ahnya Torvarsdottir. I cannot give back to you all that you lost. But I can give you this." I was a bit taken back by the emotion in his voice, thick with concern and also strength, a strength that he wished to pass to her.

Ahnya kept her hands at her sides, and I could see her fighting the impulse to look at me. I placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze so she would know I was there.

“What? What do you mean ‘give me’? I don't want anyone to give me anything I haven't earned. My lord, I cannot take that.”

He took her hand and gently pressed the pouch into it.

“Open it please. It is yours by right.”

“By right?”

“Open it and you will see.”

Reluctantly, she did as he asked, and carved bits of ivory tumbled into her other palm. She stared at them in silence and then said, “But Chieftain, I don't understand. What is this?”

He smiled tiredly and asked, “Do you not recognize the carving? Is it not your father's craft?”

I felt Ahnya tremble under my hand as she bent her head to look at the carvings. With her hair hiding her face, she spoke in a barely audible voice, “But… the house burned. It was all lost. And my parents were….” Her shoulders were shaking but there was no sound.

“Yes. And those responsible have paid for their actions. And these carvings are yours.”

Ahnya still could not look up, but she did as she had said she would- she asked. “How? Where did you find them and how did you get these?”

“As chieftain, it is my responsibility to look after my people. That includes you.” He placed his hand on the opposite shoulder from where I still kept contact with her. I could feel the effort as she fought to keep from crying. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she said, “But I am nothing to you.”

Athlain reached his hand to raise her chin, so he could look into her eyes, "Ahnya. Look at me please."
She continued in that quiet voice, “I only came here because of Svenja. I don't even know you.”

“You came here and asked for work, for a chance to earn your way.”

“I didn't have a choice. I have to take care of myself. No one else is responsible for me; my parents are gone.”

He nodded his agreement. “And that- is why. And never think you are ‘nothing’. You are strong and brave and resourceful.”

At last I found my own voice and I said, “Ahnya, you are all of those things. I saw all of them in you today. You will be a great archer and a great asset to this clan.”

I could not look at Athlain as I added, “He was doing what any leader should do. He was drawing you into his circle of protection. He wants you to feel safe here. And he wants you to know that you do belong here.”

I turned the girl to face me and looked deep into those blue eyes, the eyes of a hunter in the making. “Do you understand?”

She looked back and forth between us, as if uncertain which way to turn. And then she gathered herself, took the stance I had taught her just that morning.

“I don't know what to say to either of you. ‘Thank you’ doesn't seem quite enough.” She looked to Athlain. “Chieftain, I will work very hard, I promise. And I will practice every day to become a great hunter.”

He smiled again and nodded. “I expect no less. And- I am proud that you are part of Thirsk.”

Then she turned back to me. “Thyna, thank you so much for all that you did for me today.”

Something seemed to catch in my throat and a swirl of forge smoke must have blurred my vision for a moment, but I hugged her close and told her: “I am proud that you are Ahnya. And that you are my friend.”

Several beats passed and then Athlain cleared his throat before saying,

“And now- I have another responsibility. Athynae, I wronged you.”

How could he? I did not want to hear this. The moment had been perfect- why did he have to ruin it?

“Please don't…”

But he continued, as if I had not spoken, “Taking your katana without permission…”

”Stop. This isn't fair.” He had used the entire exchange with Ahnya to disarm me, and he would pay for it somehow.

“And now- I would like to return it to you.”

“No! Not now. You cheated! You do something honorable and brave, but even more, something touching and sweet. You douse the fire, and then you want to give me back what you took from me?”

I crossed my arms and stomped my foot, something I had not done in years. But he just made me so angry! And then, to top it all, he refused to yell back. He just looked… sad… and determined.

“Very well. If you will not have it from me, will you take it from Brynjolfr?”

Instead of answering his completely unfair question, I asked one of my own: “I just want to know one thing.”

“Yes?”

“Why? Why would you hurt me like that? IT IS MY KATANA! Mine!”

“Because I knew if I told you what I had in mind- you would never agree. And because I will do anything to keep you alive. Even if it means you hate me.” In that new found strength, his voice was deep and sure, another cheat….OOOHHHH!

“I do hate you! Because you cheat. I don't like cheaters.”

Finally, some color came into his cheeks and a bit of heat was in his voice as he responded, “And I will cheat every time if it means giving you one more chance to stay alive.”

I did not want to hear that, so I tried to change the subject, “What did Bryn do to my katana?”

But besides being a cheater, Athlain could be stubborn and he was not finished with his little speech.
“I cannot keep you safe- not all of the Nine could do that.”

He could be so infuriating. I stomped my foot again and yelled, “Oh stop that! I have done just fine taking care of myself.” I avoided making eye contact with Ahnya, recalling that just that morning I had told her the story of my encounter with the werewolf. And besides- I had done well... mostly. He was finally finishing his lecture.

“…But- I can make sure you survive.”

I gave him the raised eyebrow with narrowed eyes look I had seen Mother use to such effect. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

He sighed and shook his head. “Please- just look at what Bryn has done- for you. And then- if you still want to kill me, well- at least it will be quick.”

I muttered, “No it won't.” But, I needed to see what had been done to my sword. I glared at him and said, “Give me my damn katana then. But know this, Athlain Treyson. If you so much as breathe on Dreamer again, Uncle Trey and Aunt Baria will never find all of the pieces.”

With that I stepped up to Bryn’s counter and he handed me a beautifully made case. The wood looked like it had come from the Nibenay Valley, perhaps even from the Blackwood. And I recognized Bryn’s own hand in the crafting of the brass fittings. I placed a hand on the lid, thinking perhaps I could feel her within, feel the same connection I had felt in Uncle Seth’s armory. There was no sound except the crackle of the forge fire. At last, I opened the latch and raised the lid, revealing a long silk bag. My fingers trembled and I had to remind myself to breathe as I stood the bag on end and loosed the drawstring.

My eyes filled and my heart beat slowly, and the time might have gone on forever, if not for Ahnya, who I had almost forgotten, whispering, "Oh Miss- she is beautiful!"

A single tear broke free and slid down my face as I placed my hands on Dreamer’s hilt.

“I…” my words came out with even more of a rasp than usual, “…still hate you… and…. But… well…”

Bryn spoke quietly, gazing at the sword that seemed to have become welded to my hands. “She be my masterwork, lass. I may never make another blade and yet I will go to me long-fathers with pride.”

I could not take my eyes from the ebony hilt, the polished silver edging of the blade, the star-burst rivets, but I had to tell him- it was almost as if Bryn, the great bear of a smith, was pleading with me to release him.

“Bryn, I thought when I held her the first time that I would never find another blade that felt like she did, that made me feel like she did. And she doesn't anymore.” I shuddered and went on. “She carries all that she did before… and more.”

He might have let loose a sigh- I was not really listening, but I do know he spoke again.

“Naow the spell. That was all himself.”

But I was not paying attention; I stepped away to give myself enough space and closed my eyes, going through a kata before I looked at him again. He smiled at me and pointed to the hilt:

“See ye how the gem fits inta the pommel there?”

But I was still lost in the feel of Dreamer, back in my hands, as I told him, “I didn't know perfect could be more perfect, Bryn.”

Then his words penetrated and my eyes darted to the golden shape that capped the hilt and I also saw the glow of enchantment that flickered over the blade. My eyes widened and I asked, “The gem? Oh my. Bryn that's beautiful.”

He shook his head and pointed at Athlain. “Tell it tae yon lad. He did that work.”

As I reached out with my other sense to taste the enchantment I asked, “He what?”

“Just the naow, before ye came in. He set the spell upon her for ye.”

That explained the words I had heard as we arrived at the forge… And Athlain’s exhaustion, but… I was still very angry with him. So I told Bryn, “I don't want to talk to him right now. I don't know whether to hug him or hit him, so better to do nothing.”

The smith kept his features still, but I saw the sparkle in his eyes as he said, “Aye lass. Ye would know best.”

And besides, I had other things I wanted to talk about. I frowned and shifted Dreamer from one hand to the other, then measured her with my eye.

“The balance is as it was, but the blade is a centimeter shorter. No… wait- two.

Bryn nodded his head and explained, “I am sorry lass. I had ta do tha' ta keep the balance as it was, wi' the ebony and all.”

I carefully placed Dreamer back in her case and bowed to Bryn- with no mockery this time- a true bow, the due of a master. And then I turned to Athlain, who had stood quietly all this time.

“I've never seen anything as beautiful. But Athlain, you cannot ever do that to me again. Not with my blades. You've taken my dagger and now my katana. And although both were taken for good reason, I did not know what those reasons were until after. And so.... well, just please… don't. Not without explaining. Please.”

He placed his hand on his mace and nodded. “You have my word. I did not take Dreamer without thought as to what I was doing, but- it was still wrong to do so without telling you.”

I believed he was sincere, but it was not enough. He needed to understand.

“I had no idea- because you did not tell me- and then you left- without a word. And then, especially after all of my other gear was returned, I was so... so…” The words would not come and the idiot tried to help me! He should have known to keep quiet- just like him- staying silent when he should have spoken, and speaking when he should have been silent.

“Angry?” He supplied.

I growled at him, “Yes! NO! Scared! Scared out of my wits. I will never be as connected to another blade as I am to her. And even when I found out Bryn had her….”

He must have had a death wish, because he interrupted me again, saying, “And that was another reason. No other blade will ever keep you as safe.”

I resisted the urge to hit him; after all, Ahnya was still present. “Athlain, you of all people, the one person I tell ALMOST everything, you know….

“I know you must walk a dark path before we are finished.”

“I don't care about that. If I lose what keeps me connected, then dark or light is irrelevant. I know that sounds extreme, but somehow this blade is the glue that connects my natural ability to my physical self.”

“ ‘Thyna... if not for the Gift, I would have died a hundred times over by now.”

He could be so obtuse sometimes. I shook my head at him and asked, “Don't you think I knew that when I had her created?”

But he was not listening; he was reliving experiences that he had not been able to talk about.

“Worse- I would have been lost to myself and to you.”

He had to hear what I was saying, so I took his face between my hands and forced him to look at me. “I may not have seen all that you have, but I am not ignorant of what exists here either.” I shook him for emphasis. “You will never be lost to me. The day that you tried to die on me…”

He got a little smile, and I was secretly glad to see it. “As I recall,” he said, “You hit me.... Granted, you had healed me first...”

He was thinking about the cabin and the skooma; my memory was of a much earlier time.

“I'm talking about the time the new guar trampled you, silly.”

“Oh well. Only because you insisted on trying to ride him.”

“But your heart stopped. And so did mine. So know this, my dearest friend- when one heart stops, the other will follow.”

His voice dropped to a whisper as he said, “Yes.”

“Everyone made jokes about what had happened, but no one knows, no one- not even you.”

He gave that wonderful, infuriating smile again- the one that might have worked on someone else, but not me.

“Well- I was asleep at the time. Or so it seemed”

“I made a bargain that day. As long as your heart beats, mine will too.” I picked up Dreamer’s case and cradled it to my chest, muttering,

“Thank you for my gift. Don’t ever do it again.”

Bryn broke in at that moment. “This is a' very touchin' I am sure. But this be a forge, nae a tea-party.”

I did not even look at him as I replied, “Go blow your bellows, old man.”

“Come here, lass.”

“No.”

“I feel the need ta hug ye.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to ruin your reputation.”

“Aye.”

I sidled over and threw my free arm around his neck. And as he drew me close he whispered so only I could hear, "Keep him alive if ye can.”

I whispered back, “Thank you Bryn, so much. Besides- I am the only one allowed to kill him.”

“Aye weel then. All's well.”

And then I whispered again, “But he will pay for this.”

Bryn looked sternly at Ahnya. “And as fer ye, me lassie, ye needn't speak o' what has passed here.”

“Yes sir Brynjolfr, sir. And what would you be talking about sir?”

He laughed and added, “At least- not until ye be a granny yerself. An' then it'll make a grand story.”

“I can't show my carvings?”

“Oh now as ta tha’, tell it ta any who will hold still.”

“Aye. That I'll do sera.”

“Now clear off ye lot, and let a man do some work.”

With that, Athlain and I walked out the door, our feet crunching on the snow. Ahnya hung back a bit, but my hearing was still good enough to hear:

“They do, don't they Sera Bryn? Even if they don't know it.”

“Oh aye lassie, that they do.”

“I hope someday I find someone like him.”

“If'n ye do lass, hold tight ta him. An' a lucky fella he will be.”

“Should I treat him like she does?

“As ta that, why yes- just so. If he scares off too easy- he be'n't the one fer ye.”

“I knew there was a good reason. I like you Sera Bryn.”

“Be off wi' ye, naow.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

And she laughed as she raced past us on her way to the hall.

I'm not sure whether I've posted before, but I wanted to pop in to mention how much I've enjoyed reading Athlain's story (and his dad's before that). I'm guessing there are probably a few other lurkers who regularly check for updates as well.

Thank you.

I just thought I'd say...

IF YOU DON'T GET BACK TO BLOODY WRITING MY DEAR ATHYNAE THEN I SHALL BE MOST IRKED...IRKED INDEED...SO THERE!!...*Points*...

*Sigh*...

That was truly amazing...Bloody wonderful...

Loved every word...

Now can we please get back to it?... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds most heartily*...

@JustinSane- Many thanks for your continued support. Hope you enjoy this next part.

@McBadgere- Thank you, dear Badger. And I am doing all that a small ancient dachshund can to encourage the writing.

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Upon leaving the forge, it was all I could do to stay on my feet. The snow looked soft and I was so weary; the distance to the Hall seemed farther than that to the moons, and the stairs to my room steeper than a mountain. Much of that bone-deep fatigue was a product of the major enchantment I had performed, following my forced march to the coast and back. But still more was the tension I had carried since I took Athynae’s sword. Some of that stress had been relieved by her acceptance of Dreamer’s new incarnation- but only some. A glance at her stiff back as she walked beside me was enough to show that our “discussion” was far from over. Fortunately, she seemed somewhat distracted by the sound of Ahnya’s cheerful tone, followed by Brynjolfr’s bass rumbling. Not having Athynae’s elvish hearing, I could not make out the words. However, based on her changing expression, which went from amusement, to annoyance, to disbelief, ‘Thyna could hear quite clearly. Whatever she heard, she chose not to share with me.

When we reached the main hall, she allowed me to open the door for her- a necessity, as she had both hands wrapped possessively around the sword case she clutched to her chest. Once we reached the hall proper, she spoke not a word, nor did she spare me a glance as she swept up the stairs to her room. It was a moment of peace I would have treasured, had I but the wits to have done so. But for the moment, all I could think of was the bed that awaited me, and the promise of sleep- sleep that might last as much as a week or possibly two.

Beyond opening the door to my room, I recall nothing, not even the feel of the pillows against my face. At some point, I thought that a thunderstorm had blown in over Thirsk, but that was foolish; the air was far too dry. Even so, when I finally woke, my skin had a feeling as if lightning had passed over me, very near. Perhaps that was just an after-effect of the enchanting from the previous night. I stretched and prepared to dive back under the quilt when a faint tapping at the door drew my attention.

Ever since my sisters had blessed us with their presence, I had learned to sleep through the most violent disturbances. Fires, floods, or earthquakes would not have moved me; however, the sound of someone moving quietly brought me instantly alert. So, when the light tap of knuckles sounded, I was up and had on a robe before I even realized I had begun to move. Ahnya was at my door.

“If it please you, sir, you had better come down. I am afraid they might- well, I don’t know what will happen.”

I followed her down the stairs and found Athynae and Svenja glaring at one another like a pair of kagouti determining which would get first bite of an unfortunate pilgrim. The mead hall was as quiet as I had ever heard it- the hunters seemed afraid that any sound might draw the attention of the two deadly women- with unimaginable consequences. As for me… one of the effects of too little sleep was that I became dangerous. Not to others- but to myself. With a cheerful smile I walked up and noted:

“Ah- two of my favorite ladies; and with such fine high color in your faces. All is well, I trust? Not fevered or overheated?”

The glares transferred to me, and I continued as if oblivious: “I imagine that you both feel some claim upon my time, and I will be more than happy to accommodate you shortly. But first, I will ask Mistress Ahnya to bring me some breakfast. Sorry to interrupt- I will see you in just a little while.”

And with that I returned to my room, waiting only a few minutes until Ahnya appeared with a tray. I took it from her and set it aside; my request for food had been a ruse… mostly… A worried frown came to the girl’s features and she made as if to take the tray back: “Is it not to your liking, my lord? I can….”

“Peace Ahnya. And my name is ‘Athlain.’ The breakfast is perfect, but we have more important matters at hand. Now tell me- how bad is it?”

The girl twisted her hands together and looked as if she wanted to bolt. But then she seemed to recall what waited at the bottom of the stairs and perched stiffly on the second chair.

“Well, my lord… I mean Athlain, it started like this…”

I was up early, baking the bread, and Mistress Thyna came into the kitchen for her tea. I could tell she did not wish to talk. But- she seemed more sad than angry. Of course if we had not learned to always have tea ready- it would have been easier to tell- angry would have come out well ahead.

And so I tried to watch her without staring- that is an important skill to learn if I am going to be a hunter. She sipped her tea and kept one hand on the case with her sword. Which is beautiful by the way- the sword I mean. Well the case, too. But anyway... she seemed far away, and her lips moved as if she was talking to someone who wasn’t there. But then, when she finished her second cup, she put the mug down firmly. Not slamming it- more as if she had made her mind up about something.

“Then she left the kitchen and started clumping up the steps to the sleeping quarters.” Ahnya looked at me with an expression of uncertainty. “How is it that she can move so silently most of the time and then rattle the floor like a drunken atronach at others? Has she always been that way?”

I bit into the honey-laden piece of bread I held in one hand and nodded, “Yes, she has. It is one of her… talents, I suppose you could say. Please- go on.”

“Well, sir, it seemed to me that as a hunter-in-training, I should observe what was going on around me, so I slipped out to see where she was going. When she stopped outside your door, I almost thought it might be better to hide back in the kitchen. But I didn’t.”

I smiled at Ahnya’s admission of momentary “cowardice;” but I did not laugh. I knew quite well how much fortitude it took to face Athynae when she had decided to release the anger she usually kept chained inside.

“And she stood there a minute, and she looked at Dreamer’s case in her hands, and got this strange smile. But then the smile went away and her face… it was almost as if she became someone else. And then she hammered on your door so hard, I thought the panels would splinter at any second. And she shouted your name and said, ‘We need to practice! Now come out here and face me!’ I think they might have heard her in Skyrim.“

Here Ahnya paused and I offered her a sip from the water jug on my tray. She looked scandalized for just a moment, but then nodded her thanks and took a healthy swallow.

“And then- well, then… Cousin Svenja appeared out of nowhere and it seemed like she just levitated up the stairs. At least I do not think her feet touched more than one step in five. And then she was between Athynae and the door, with her arms folded and a scowl on her face. I could not hear what they said to each other, but she managed to get Mistress Thyna to go back downstairs, and then they really started to argue. I mean, they kept their voices down, but you know how Thyna talks with her hands, and Cousin Svenja has that muscle in her jaw that starts to bulge…. So I decided I had better come and find you before something happened.”

I wondered if there were still dragons in Akavir. If so, perhaps I could march up to one and give her a sharp rap on the snout. After which, I could ask to use her eggs to play a game of kick ball. That seemed a less painful alternative to facing Athynae- especially now that she had been thwarted by Svenja. Much as I appreciated the intervention, I knew it was only postponing the inevitable. Listening to the verbal battle between the two strong-willed women would have been entertaining- if I had not been the subject of contention. That was rather like being the bone in the middle of quarrel between a pair of daedroth- no matter who “won,” I was going to be chewed up. If the Empire still used galley slaves perhaps I could sign up. Or I could go downstairs- after breakfast. The condemned man ate a hearty meal.

Ah yes, the wonders of being a man with a man's ability to say exactly the wrong thing at exactly the wrong time... ...

Brilliant stuff...



...That made I laugh hugely...

Brilliant stuff Mr Trey sir!!...

Please, much more now please?...

Nice one!!...

*Appplauds most heartily*...

I was still using the obedient servant voice, just not quite as thick with ‘kill you later’ running from it.

Oh yes, I think you got it right.

The scene with Ahnya was just beautiful. So much passed between Athlain and Athynae that didn’t need to be said.


”Stop. This isn't fair.” He had used the entire exchange with Ahnya to disarm me, and he would pay for it somehow.

Athlain seemed about a hundred feet tall in this part. I’m so glad we got to see the return of the katana through Athynae’s eyes.


I could not take my eyes from the ebony hilt, the polished silver edging of the blade, the star-burst rivets, but I had to tell him- it was almost as if Bryn, the great bear of a smith, was pleading with me to release him.

A moment ago she was stomping her foot, but she can still come up with this observation. A perfect example of why I love Athynae.


Bryn broke in at that moment. “This is a' very touchin' I am sure. But this be a forge, nae a tea-party.”

Perfect!


The condemned man ate a hearty meal.

Payback! And so it begins…

First, Welcome back! (That's Cyrodiilic for "It's about time!") Ahnya's character has melded into the story as if she alway was a part of it in both these chapters, but my favorite part was her giving Athlain the tale of Athynae stomping - LOVED that!

My PC started giving me trouble today, it keeps going black and I have to keep wiggling wires and bringing it back up, so I'm keeping this short. Awesome Write!

I'll admit, I haven't read fan fiction in a looong time. You're still a very talented writer and your descriptive nature really helps me paint a mental picture of what is going on.

As usual, excellent work.

Well!

Feel like playing good news, bad news?

Good news - I had all the glorious updates from post 968 to catch up on.

Bad news - I've caught up and there's no more to read.

Good news - The story is better than ever!

Bad news - I've caught up and there's no more to read.

Good news - Athlain and Athynae have become even more interesting characters than they already were, and they were already two of my all time favourite characters.

Bad news - I've caught up and there's no more to read.

Good news - The introduction of characters like Ahnya have helped to show a completely different side to our protaganists, mentoring and encouraging, which nicely offsets the teasing banter they've always been so good at.

Bad news - I've caught up and.... oh, you can guess the rest.

Now, there's still so many threads you've teased us with still, well, teasing us. Trey. Seth. Serene. The prophecy. Hircine quaking in his wolfie boots at what Athynae would like to do to him.

Story. Good. More - pleeeeease?

Oh my Sir Treydog! Todayb i read an email from another forumist....and it gave me an instant urge to pop over here...

And what did I see? MORE ATHLAIN and ATHYNAE! *life is just so good sometimes*

The interactions between those two are just so fascinating...I can see them for my inner eye..I can hear them...
I so love this story....and I second Lord Burnt Sierra

S.G.M

@McBadgere- And there will be more chances for him to put his foot squarely in it- as soon as the end of this post- or perhaps the beginning of the next one. And he will be devoutly wishing for those dragons quite soon also. Our thanks as always for your reading and your support.

@Grits- You capture the heart what I wanted to do with that scene, as Athlain proves he is more than just a warrior. And Athynae shows that she does indeed have eyes and heart for more than her precious blade. And Bryn… what an absolute gift he has been.

@mALX- And now it is far past time- for which we humbly beg forgiveness. And yes- Ahnya just “appeared” and quickly became essential. She will have more of a role, as will be seen quite soon.

@Kiln- You have been bearing with my fits and starts for so long that you deserve a medal for perseverance. And it reminds me of why I want to keep writing. Thank you my friend.

@Burnt Sierra- And another of my longstanding (and long-suffering readers). Many smiles over your good news/bad news litany… And hey- good news! Here is a new post! Better news- there should be 2 more in fairly short order!

@minque- It please me beyond words that you can see and hear Athynae and Athlain- because their chroniclers can too. And we hope we are “getting them right.” So when you say what you did- we KNOW that we are. Thank you so much.

@Everyone- A lot happened in RL to delay this post- and it is as boring as that sort of stuff often is. But- well, we are back- and if the post has been delayed, we only hope the wait has been worth it. Even when we were not writing- we were thinking about writing- thinking about our many friends here- and determined to repay your many kind words with- what else? Words of our own. We hope you enjoy the reading as much as we enjoyed the writing- or maybe- even more.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I lifted my fist- ready to hammer it into the very center of the door, knowing the reverberating echoes would bounce off the walls. “Get up Athlain Treyson! We need to practice. The sooner we get to it the sooner we can truly be done with this foolishness!” I am ready for this game to be over. I hate feeling weak and that seems to be an endless theme on this horrid island. And I turned to storm down the stairs into the dining hall, only to come face to face with Svenja, who stood with her arms akimbo, acting like a wall. Previous thought on repeat… Her face could have given a thunderstorm lessons in “swirling dark anger with firebolts soon to follow.” Automatically my shoulders went back and my chin lifted as my jaw tightened but I stopped just short of arms reach.

“Did you even take a moment yesterday to look, to truly see the Chieftain when he returned?” Her tone was a combination of mother bear and justiciar. “Or were you so caught up in staring at your precious weapon that you could not see beyond that red circle of anger?” Her lips were pursed tightly and she was tensing her jaw. The number of accusations in those two sentences, along with her tone was not what I was expecting, but then, I don’t know really what I was expecting.

If I wasn’t still so conflicted about my katana I might have had the wherewithal to be afraid, because she looked like she was getting ready to slap me stupid. I decided to allow myself time to gather words to hurl so I shrugged my shoulders and tried to look as if I had no clue what she was insinuating. She ignored my gesture and pointed toward Athlain’s room:

“I took him a meal last evening that he probably does not even remember. He looked as if someone had dunked him in the lake, held him under a tad too long, then put him through the laundry wringer twice.”

Was she really making it my fault that he pushed too hard for too long?

“I cannot help that he pushes himself like that, Svenja. I have tried to tell him but he keeps insisting he is a grown man. So be it. I did not do that to him!”

No one seemed to understand that he had violated something sacred to me; something he knew very well was almost as precious as my heartbeat.

”I cannot believe he did what he did to me! And gallivanting off for some unknown reason and returning with trinkets for Ahnya was a grand gesture for your precious Chieftain. But it does not exonerate him of the offense of theft. He STOLE my katana!”

My voice cracked, which made me sound like an insolent child, but I couldn’t help it; they ALL needed to understand.

“Sometimes you are so self absorbed and then you’ll turn around and do something utterly selfless. It makes me think there are two of you and we never know which one we are going to get until you open your mouth.”

She made me sound like one of those people Mother treated for mental instability. I am not crazy.

“I am sure I do not know what you mean. I am always myself.”

Why was she being so judgmental and mean?

“And right now I could slap that self righteous look off of your lovely face.”

Her high cheekbones were glowing red, so I stepped back just in case she wasn’t being figurative and straightened a little bit more, putting my shoulders back a tad further

“Svenja, I…but he, he just …I don’t understand how he could just take my katana like that. I don’t. WHY would he do that? And why don’t you understand?”

“That precious katana, your weapon. Tell me Athynae, is that katana worth more than his life? Is the weapon he carries worth more than yours?”

Everything swirled in my head about how the what he called the Gift had come to be, my reasons for having Bryn create the one weapon that he had proven himself with, all that the smith and I had done to make sure that it was absolutely the best that is could possibly be because it was the closest I could get to protecting him without making myself his personal body guard. I mumbled something under my breath about “stupid.”

“What? I’m sorry. I didn’t quite hear you. Were you saying something important or were you just acting like a princess again?”

What? I almost stomped my foot but thankfully stopped before I said,

“I do not act like a princess!” Who in the world would ever think that I act like a princess? I do not wear frills and lace, most especially not in pi.. puh… that color; I do not primp in front of a mirror for half the day; and I do not get the sillies. That was one of the few things that lit me up like a skin of naptha.

“Oh yes you do!” She leaned in toward me and narrowed her eyes.

“It is not my fault that I am right! How does that make me a princess?”

She was loyal to her chieftain. She had known me far longer, but as soon as he was named her leader all that changed; that’s what this was all about. She didn’t care what was right or wrong, all she was thinking about was who he was. But she had to see my side; she had to realize I was not wrong here. He broke the laws of best friendship when he took my katana.

“I love you child, but right now I could turn you over my knee and tan your hide.”

I could see the vein in her temple throbbing, but I didn’t care any more. She’s had set the fire so now would come the heat.

“He could have ruined her with his meddling….”

“I have seen you behave in this self centered manner for so long …”

Why didn’t anyone understand? “And then how would I have been able to keep him alive?” I wailed.

“But then you recover and show me yet another quality that is beyond compare. Ahnya practically worships you because of the kindness you showed her.”

“Svenja,” I pleaded, trying to pitch my voice so she could hear me “He could have….”

And again she cut me off and her volume went up enough that she could be heard all the way to the mines.

“Do you think for one second he….” So I not only equaled her volume but I went straight past the mines all the way to Vvardenfell….

“He goes off into the wilderness without thought, he plunges headlong into danger… What am I supposed to do?”

Svenja raised her hand as if she were going to slap me and I shut up and her voice fell to almost a whisper “Do you think for one moment he would have taken the slightest chance with that sword? If you do, if you have even let that cross through that beautiful complicated mind of yours, you are a fool.”

“If something happened to him, his poor Mother…his sisters.” I had made it my life’s purpose to keep him safe one way or another. I had tried to teach him to wield a sword, tried time and again… I had come to his rescue when he had succumbed to the ravages of the skooma, I had commissioned his weapon and worked closely with Bryn to ensure it would do what I couldn’t.

“He would not Athynae, don’t you see that? He would not take a chance with the hairs that have already fallen from your head much less that damned sword.”

“How could I keep my promise if….” I could feel the tears pooling and there was no way on Nirn I was going to let them fall. I clenched my fists at my sides even as she cut me off.

“Athynae have you heard one word? He put your precious blade into the most capable hands he knew to be perfected- not destroyed. He took the same care with YOURS as you did with his- the only way he knew how.”

“Svenja, to fight my best, I have to have the best weapon for ME and Dreamer is that and I thought he understood that, I thought he grasped the enormity of what this katana….” And I reached up to allow myself to be comforted by the feel of the hilt only to see in my minds eye the beauty of her new accoutrements.

“And she isn’t now?” She was glaring daggers through me, waiting for an answer, one that I could not give. So I went back to what I did know, to what I had to get someone to understand.

“But he just took her, don’t you see? He didn’t ask, he didn’t explain what he was doing, he just raided my room and took her.”

“He was trying to give to you a gift no less than you had given him.”

“He just does things without asking. Takes things, runs off and joins the Legion, tries to get himself killed…” I could feel the stabbing of the remembered pain when I found out he was gone, off to Fort Darius without a word.

“Look beyond,” she tried to say. But I wasn’t finished.

“He comes to Solstheim and gets himself appointed Chieftain,” He left without me, he left me behind….

“Ask yourself if he is better for it.” That brought me to a full stop. In that one question, she had defined the problem.

“What?” I was not sure really what she had said, but something registered and it stopped me. “What did you say?”

“All those things he did without asking, as if he needed permission, is he a better man for having done them?”

Well of course he is you ninny! I thought but didn’t say- because I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t ready to acknowledge that the new Athlain was better because I hadn’t let go of the old one yet.

But she wasn’t going to let it go. “Is he!?”

I whispered, “Maybe.”

“Thyna, he had to get beyond asking permission for everything from everyone. He had to get beyond living in the shadow of a great father. He had to prove to himself that he could be a warrior after spending most of his childhood in YOUR shadow.”

That stung like salt in a wound; that wasn’t how it was supposed to be, that wasn’t my intention ever. I wanted him to be a great fighter, I wanted him to shoot a bow, wield a sword, throw a spear- and instead all I had done was drive him away. It was all my fault he was here. And then with me out of the way, he had learned to be a warrior. “But he isn’t the same person anymore, Svenja; he isn’t my best friend anymore. He has changed and I don’t know him anymore.” I was finding it difficult to get my breath, like I was being stifled.

“He didn’t lose himself, Thyna. Just the opposite.”

“Svenja…” She needed to hear me, really hear me but she couldn’t, she didn’t.

“He improved the good that has always been there.” And she raised her hands palm up as she tilted her head, the question unspoken, but clear all the same.

I whispered, “But… but… when did he get that shadow in his eyes; where did the laughter that danced in them go?” That was why we were the perfect complement to each other, he was always smiling, had something funny or positive to say. Even when he was bruised and bloody after sparring, he would say something that kept me from feeling like his personal torturer; when I was being too serious, he would make me laugh.

“Where have you seen this shadow?” Her demeanor had changed from over-protective guardian to the Svenja I had always known, the one that had mended whatever was broken.

“When he came back last night.” My voice had a sadness to it that matched what I had seen in his eyes.

“No, I mean where else, who else carries that shadow?” Flashes of the ones I love most passed through my memory.

“Uncle Seth, Uncle Trey, sometimes Mother.”

“And is it a strength or a weakness?”

“They are the strongest people I know.” But I wasn’t at all sure the shadow was what made them strong, it was just a part of who they were.

“So perhaps the darkness you see comes because that person brings light into dark places. Maybe he has to make difficult decisions for the benefit of others. And sometimes those decisions include going against everything that is 'right' in the safety of your father’s house and doling out justice solely on your own understanding. Deciding who should live and who should die is not something any of those you named ever took lightly, yet they have all done it. And now, so has Athlain.”

“I want to help him, but he won’t let me.” That was all I had ever wanted to do, ever and it was the one thing that I had failed at over and over and over….

“Do you want me to tell you how to help him or are you going to just keep doing it ‘your way’?”

I crossed my arms and decided the least I could do was listen. “Very well. Tell me.”

Perhaps we would have gotten somewhere, but at that moment the subject of our discussion came sweeping down the stairs like… like a king greeting the peasants.

*Blinks eyes repeatedly*...

No...'Course not...It's just early for reading screens...That's all...Yes...Tad under the weather...Yes, that'll be it... ...

Holy crap woman!!... ...

That was the most intensely wonderful thing ever!!...

I know they say that breaks make you better but still...That was unbelievable...Absolute brilliance...

And again, at the same time as being intense and heart-rending, the sheer indignant stubbornness that she is absolutely always right is just so funny... ...

That there is more to come before this section ends is a joy to look forward to...

Absolutely nice one!!...

*Applauds most heartily until his hands reach up and slap his own face*...

...



EDIIIIIITTTT!!!...Having been advised about how much this actually is a team effort...(Oopsie, sorry matey )...It would be most wrong of me to not compliment Trey also for his part in the sheer brilliance that they both bring to the mix, in order that the whole is something truly special, amazing and brilliant...

So...In short...I must also add to my comment, a hearty:

Holy crap, man!!!... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

As promised- here is part 2 of this 2-part episode. Somehow I feel like doing the "Let's get ready to ru-u-m-bbb-lllle" wrestling announcement. But anyway- here ya go.

-----------------------------------------------------------

“Ah- two of my favorite ladies; and with such fine high color in your faces. All is well, I trust? Not fevered or overheated?”

He actually said that! When Svenja and I were practically at daggers drawn. All right- fine- not really. But to just sail into the middle of it, as if he did not have a care in the world. And then- then, to put the comberry on the cake, he ordered breakfast- to be brought to his room! Who was this person and what had he done with Athlain? The best thing for me to do at that point was escape before all my ability to control my explosive anger was gone. So I went to my room as well, to prepare. He was going to have to come out eventually, and I would be ready.

I slipped the baldric from my shoulder and placed Dreamer on the bed. I ran my hand down the scabbard and wrapped my fingers around the hilt as I closed my eyes. “Will you sing to me as you used to? Move of your own accord? Know the steps a beat before?” I moved slowly with my eyes closed, twirling my katana like a baton in an exhibition dance, feeling the weight as it shifted, rolling her from hand to hand. Although she felt the same, she also felt different; she was 2 centimeters shorter and the blade was the same metal but felt more dense. The enchantment, though weightless physically, added an… aetheric gravity to what I held.

I sank onto the bed and laid her across my knees, so very beautiful. But beauty did not make the katana deadly. Deadly. All Dreamer had been thus far was my practice weapon, until I landed here…Now her ability to be the deadly extension of my hand would be tested unlike I had ever imagined….

“Are we ready Dreamer? Can we keep him alive? I have heard so many stories about his strength and how he has fought and won against so many but I also know that tales are made bigger by the telling. He needs to be angry with me to show me what he is capable of; he needs to hold nothing back. Is that why I have gone so far off the mark with this? No, I am not off the mark; he stole you then ran. But only to make you better, to help me to keep him alive…. Does he know that?”

After what seemed an eternity, I heard Ahnya’s light step outside my door and I pulled it open. She stopped, holding a tray with the remains of his meal. She did not say anything, just waited as I strapped the last buckle on my armor and shook everything down to get it settled just so. The girl had not done anything to me, so I reminded myself to be pleasant, though it was not easy.

“Ahnya. When you have a moment, would you please ask the Chieftain to meet me on the practice ground? Thank you.”

Perhaps my attempt at not seeming murderous was not completely successful- because Ahnya flinched a bit and then said, “Yes, Miss. I mean yes, Athynae, I will. I believe that is where he plans to be in a few minutes anyway, as he was donning his armor as well.”

She barely stopped herself from making a curtsy, and disappeared back toward the kitchen.

And everything that I wanted her to think of me was ruined, even to the point of her being afraid of me. I had tried so long with Athlain and failed so horribly and now, when I tried to redeem myself, to help someone else in some small way- what happened? I failed before I ever truly got started. That poor girl just needed something to hold onto and I reached out only to let her slide like water through my unworthy hands….

I could feel the ire rising like bile again. What no one seemed to realize was all of the anger, or a good portion of it, was at myself for being such a failure- first with Athlain and now with Ahnya. I pushed that thought aside. Focus. You can do this. You have never been defeated. “Except once,” a traitor thought reminded me.

Well fine then. Yes, the werewolf had bitten me- but it had also died. It had been too long since I had practiced, since before being attacked by Hircine’s lapdog. And besides that, I needed to find out what they had done to Dreamer. I trusted Bryn… I did, but…. I needed to know Dreamer the way I had since I first held her in my hands. Because even if Athlain did not understand it, I knew we were going to have to fight the Daedric prince of mongrels himself. I had to know all that this new Dreamer could do, because that was a fight I intended to win. I would keep Athlain alive, even if I had to half kill him to do it.

So I attached the scabbard to the clips on my back and went downstairs. Athlain was already there, and so were Svenja… and Bryn. The smith’s expression said he did not plan on moving any time soon and he was dead center of the doorway like one of the peaks of Skyrim. When he saw me, he pointed a thick finger at Dreamer’s hilt riding over my shoulder and said,

“Nay.” His eyes were black and his jaw tensed and his voice, though low, was deep and carried a warning like a feather on the first gust of a storm.

He punctuated the flat denial by folding tree-trunk arms across his barrel chest, making himself look even more like a mountain than a man.

“Ye will no be slicin’ nor bashin’ each ither wi’ any weapon I hae crafted.”

Ahnya stood in his shadow, her expression alternating between determination and worry. Apparently, she had more of an idea about my concept of sparring than I had realized. Equally apparently, she had slipped away to bring help. It would have been easier to move Red Mountain than to get Bryn out of the doorway, so I would need something besides force. Keeping my voice low so as to thwart the avid audience within the hall, I reminded him,

“I have not been completely… healthy recently and thus have not been able to practice.”

It was important to start with something that was indisputable. He gave a slight nod for me to continue, but did not relax his stance.

“You also know that it is essential to become familiar with a new blade- before going into combat. And although Dreamer is quite wonderful, she is still… different.”

I carefully avoided looking at Athlain, but I heard him draw a breath. Before he could butt in and ruin everything, I hurried on,

“And there is no point in practicing if I cannot practice against the best opponent available. Since the prospects here are limited…” (There, let him deal with that.) “Also, I need to see how he,” (I would NOT say his name), “fights with the mace. Don’t you agree?”

Bryn raised a hand to rub his bearded jaw and I hid a smile. If he was thinking about it, I had won. Of course.

“What ye say be true lass, and yet,” he paused, is if contemplating a difficult bit of smithing. Pausing was not good; it meant he was thinking too much. “And yet, I stand by me word. Ye’ll no be cuttin’ yerselves nor breakin’ bones wi’ the gifts ye twain had me craft fer the each of ye.”

I just knew he used the word “gift” on purpose; a reminder that I had asked him to create a certain mace to keep a certain… person… alive. Sometimes Bryn hid behind that “poor, simple smith” nonsense well enough to surprise even me. But that would just be my little secret. Meanwhile, he was rumbling on, as unstoppable as the avalanche he was imitating:

“I can see the pair a’ ye are set upon this folly; so be it. But,” he raised a massive paw, “ye shall do it usin’ practice weapons and practice garb, as well.”

He waved Ahnya forward and I finally saw that she held a bundle of white garments that were all too familiar to me- tournament tunics and leggings. Bryn had planned this before I spoke a word- and Ahnya was helping him. Fine! I would just stand on my own, as I always did. But there was no need to make it easy.

“And what makes you think I want or need that extra weight?”

Bryn pretended to misunderstand. He spoke slowly, as if to someone new to weapons training:

“The weapons are made ta leave a mark on yon garb. Tha’ way, there be nae question as ta whether ye have struck or no.”

My tone could have given Lake Fjalding lessons in “icy.”

“I have no need of these… toys. When I hit him, he will know it. And I assure you- it will ‘leave a mark’.”

Bryn folded his arms again. “Ye can spar by my rules- or not at a’. Those be yer choices.”

“Oh… fine!”

“And ye, lad? Be it ‘fine’ wi’ ye alsa?”

“Yes.” The fatigue in Athlain’s voice caused me to almost wince, but he wasn’t getting out of this, just …no. The reasons numbered far beyond what any of the witnesses here would count.

The smith smiled a false smile and clapped his hands together before leading us to the practice area. Once we had gathered, along with a large number of people who suddenly seemed to have business outside the mead hall, Bryn looked at us both from beneath bushy brows.

“Naow we can begin in earnest. Unless ye twain was wishful of arguin’ as ta the color o’ the sky, er which way be ‘up’?”

I bristled at the accusation. "I DO NOT argue. People just... disagree with me until they recognize that I am right. And, for your information," I took the stupid practice tunic from Ahnya and put my arm through the left sleeve, doubling my fist as it emerged to punch Athlain in the stomach, "it's blue, like that bruise is going to be. And," I pushed my right arm through the other sleeve and landed an uppercut to his chin, "that way is 'up'."

He had to realize that I was adapting to the rules of the game as they were played here on this less than civil island. The rules that the Dog Prince had done an ample job of laying out for me. I smiled at Bryn and finished, "And when the chieftain has finished his nap, please let him know that I am ready."

Ooooooohooohoohoohoo.

This will be good.

...That'll teach him to get changed so close... ...

Ooooh, Bryn's such an excellent character...Loved the description of him...

Dear Gods, her self-belief is terrifying...Perhaps it could be used as a new power-source to light the world?... ...

And that whole bit where she tested the sword was gorgeous...

Loved it!...

Another amazing bit of writing...

Looking forward to the next...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

I'm with Burnt Sierra - good news/bad news here! Loved coming back to Solstheim and seeing one of my favorite couples bickering once again with each other. They remind me of certain clients who have been married to each other waaaaay too long!

@Black Hand- Well of course- she WAS trained by Sethyas, after all!

@McBadgere- Bryn is one of those gifts a writer does not question- just asks what's his pleasure and lets go about his business. We will discover in this post- but most especially in the next- what it is that really motivates our half-elven princess.

@haute- It is SO good to have you back and to know that you are reading and enjoying. Perhaps if you gave those clients some practice weapons and.... No perhaps not- seeing what happens below.

Where we are- The long-anticipated sparring session has finally arrived and Athynae is more than ready. Athlain... well, let's just say he has been down this road a time or two and leave it at that. However... but, not- that would be telling. You will just have to read and find out.

------------------------------------------------------------

It was not unusual to find myself sprawled on the soil of the practice area- years of sparring with Athynae had given me plenty of experience of that position. I worked my jaw and touched the place below my ribs, using those injuries as a gauge of just how angry she really was. Despite what the onlookers might have guessed, her heart had not really been in the punches. Which is not to say that I enjoyed the experience- merely that I understood her motives. Once I was back on my feet, Bryn walked over to assist me with the practice tunic and leg coverings. As he tied the white garb over my armor he rumbled:

“I hae done a’ I could, lad. But she be in a rare temper. E’en wi’ yon wooden sword, I doubt not tha’ herself wi’ try her best ta flay ye alive.”

With that he stepped aside and I faced Athynae across the oddest practice ring I had ever known.

Besides Svenja and Brynjolfr, most of the inhabitants of Thirsk had found some reason to be loitering in the vicinity. Among those reasons there appeared to be several of a financial nature, for coins were exchanged for painted chips of wood at a frantic pace.

For myself, I was fogged by memories. I was 10 once more… or 12… and facing an adversary I could not defeat. Oh there had been a few times, after Aunt Serene had given me instruction with the quarterstaff, but did those really count? I tried to find the relaxed readiness that had been drilled into me, but could not. Instead, I found myself lost in a pair of lavender eyes that blazed with a fury as bright as the flame of her fiery hair. I stepped up to the mark, and Athynae raised her practice blade in formal salute, then with the same motion sent it whistling toward my head. My shield began to rise- too slow. A light exploded behind my eyes and then was swallowed by darkness.

I woke to the feel of someone pressing a cool compress to my forehead and the taste of a healing potion on my lips. When my vision cleared, I saw Athynae standing several paces away, her posture the archetype of impatience. But- if she was there- then who was…?

“Be ye ready to try again?”

Svenja’s voice came to my ears and her pale face swam into focus, frowning at me from where she knelt by my side. I sat up and noticed that the spectators had become much more subdued than before. Few of them seemed willing to meet my gaze, looking away as I glanced around the group. I swallowed the rest of the healing draught and clambered to my feet. Svenja rose more gracefully and stared at me for a moment before stepping aside. She seemed to be trying to tell me something, but I had never been good at “reading” women- still less so when my brains were scrambled. With a slight shake of her head she made a gesture that could have been interpreted either as a sign to commence or as one of disgust with the whole proceeding.

What no one seemed to understand, probably not even Athynae herself, were the real reasons for her actions. Anger at my betrayal of her trust was only a small part, but that anger was a cover for something else. Athynae was afraid.

The werewolf had defeated her, even though she survived and he did not. And that had robbed her of her certainty. I would go along with the pretense that we were simply “practicing”- and even that this was just Athynae “being Athynae”- at least for a while longer. But I knew what we were really doing was restoring Thyna’s confidence in herself. There had been times when I wished she would learn some humility, but never at such a cost. I had tasted defeat many times, and learned to deal with it. She had never lost what she considered to be a “real” contest of arms. Even when Aunt Serene had tutored me with the staff and I had won some of the practice bouts, Thyna had declared that those “did not count.” But the lycanthrope could not be dismissed so easily. Therefore, for just a little longer, I would work with her to exorcise her doubts.

During the passage of arms that followed, my shield work was better and it might have been two whole minutes before I once again tasted the snow-covered ground. To my credit, I did not lose consciousness and was able to rise without assistance. For the third pass, Athynae decided to ignore my battered head, at least for a time. Instead, she lashed my arms, my legs, and my torso- alternating the resounding “thwacks” with thrusts that drove the blunt end of the practice blade at the joints of my armor. The force of the blows was such that Brynjolfr’s notation of “point” was unnecessary. By now, most of the hunters had dispersed. Only a handful remained, along with Svenja, Brynjolfr- and Ahnya. The already pale Nord girl’s face was almost bereft of color and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. I could not understand- none of my weak counters had touched Athynae, and her tunic was still unblemished by a single mark- so why was Ahnya about to cry?

As I wondered about that, I also became aware that I could once again “hear” Thyna’s thoughts. The self-doubt she felt because of the werewolf attack was apparent, as was a core of incredible anger. However, although I was central to that anger, I was not the target.

I failed him, and that is why he left. That’s why he will leave again. Because he can’t count on me. I, Athynae Sarethi of Great House Redoran, am a failure. Everyone leaves me. The Skaal have known me longer, but now they pledge their hearts and their loyalty to him! He had to run away to the Legion to become the warrior I tried so hard to make him. And he did it- without me. He has changed; he has gone where I cannot reach him any longer. He will keep changing and he will keep leaving me farther behind. He will leave me. Like everyone. Like Uncle Seth. So leave then! GO! Change!

The intensity and the anguish of those thoughts was enough that I dropped my guard for just an instant. The momentary distraction was enough for Athynae- she knocked me to the ground once more. But this time, she did not step away, instead raising her sword as if to deliver a finishing blow. Before she could do so, a small form hurtled into view, shoving her away. Ahnya stood over me, her white cheeks now marked with red spots of anger.

“Stop it! What’s wrong with you? Leave him alone!”

Thyna shifted her grip and I knew that a pommel strike was coming- aimed not at me, but at my protector. I cringed in anticipation, but Ahnya never flinched, raising her chin to take the blow. To my relief, it was a blow that never fell. Athynae stopped and stood stock still for a moment, seeing who she confronted for the first time. And then the madness faded from her eyes and she turned to walk away. Ahnya was not to be deterred- she followed and began speaking fiercely to her mentor, gesturing at me all the while. However, I did not get a chance to hear what she was saying for Svenja hauled me to my feet and used a forearm to drive me back against the wall of the mead hall.

“And what in Oblivion be ye playin’ at, my lord?”

It was a measure of her agitation that she slipped into the accents of her native Skyrim.

“This is not play, Svenja. Not for me, nor for the greatest warrior I have ever known. We just needed to… work some things out. I believe that is now finished, and the true business of sparring can begin.”

Athynae was still a better duelist than I, but I had gained more practical experience in the last year. She had already demonstrated that we were not constrained by “tournament rules” and that points were not the issue. She had speed and reach, but she had not changed her style, while mine had been honed in far too many battles to the death. And there was something else; I knew that I could take a wound, or even several, and keep on fighting. It was not that she was in any way afraid of being hit, just that the idea was outside her thinking. It was time to dent her confidence just a bit- in order to build it back- on a solid foundation.

Watching Thyna move with a sword was like watching a dancer, her movements fluid and seamless. And it was a dance that we both knew very well- except that this time, I had the proper weapon in my hands. So I matched her steps, flowing into the dance with her. To survive a fight with someone trained by Sethyas, you must understand that it is harmony rather than conflict. The blade meets flesh because it is foreordained.

Because she had the greater reach, I had to let her lead. All the more so because I was setting a trap. Sheltering behind my shield, I began to push the pace. Before, I had given way to her fury; now, I let her attacks slide off my shield or pushed her blade out of line with the mace. But even as she set herself for my counter- and the prescribed riposte- I instead returned to the defense and kept circling to my left. Thyna’s lavender eyes narrowed and her breath came in angry bursts. She was not winded, nor would she be for some time. But my goal was to make her frustrated rather than weary. Her greatest strength- her attacking, slashing style- was also her weakness. Because she never got hit, she did not pay enough attention to her own defense. All I needed to do was wait….

When the opening came, it surprised even me. She had gotten tired of my tactics, and drew the practice katana back just a bit too far, intending to smash through my defense. I stopped circling and pivoted on my right foot, whipping the mace backhand across her right shoulder. Perhaps it was because it was unexpected- or perhaps I was a bit angry myself- whatever the reason, the blow not only landed, but knocked Athynae completely off her feet. She landed in a seated position in a snowdrift, her befuddled expression matching my own.

Now, don't get me wrong.

I totally love Athynae - she is an awe-inspiring force of nature that Athlain is lucky/unlucky to fall in love with (why am I thinking of Sheogorath's line "Fall in love with a cloud?"). Yet as our steady hero has pointed out, she has never felt defeat. And defeat, if survived, is essential to growing stronger. It's high time someone pointed that out to her.

The only way she can fight that lyncanthrope is to face death itself and accept its reality. Once she does that, I think she will find the strength she needs to beat Hircine at his game.

Oh, and the details of your fight here reminds me of a few certain encounters in Sancre Tor. Julian is reading this over my shoulder and nodding full agreement. QFT!

So nice to have an update so soon after I finish catching up!

Well done!

Hmm, TBH I hate making these types of observations as they feel self-serving but, what the hey.

The idea of Sethyas' fighting style came from eight years of working at a Sandwich Shop called Subway. A major chain both in the States and abroad, but I don't make the assumption that everyone has heard of it.

I realize that it sounds absurd, or perhaps some think that it's the bread knives we used to cut the bread. Not quite.

Rather, performing the same moves thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands of times, made everything from cleaning to making sandwiches a second nature.

Mostly I didn't have to think about things, in terms of preparation, which allowed me to take in the hectic surroundings during lunch and dinner rushes.

Though I would be in the middle of making one sandwich, I would listen to the next order coming up, and I could prepare myself for the bread, the meat, the cheese, etc. with no delays in my movement. If we were low or out of the necessary ingredient, I could add that to my list.

Suffice it to say, I was the favorite "left hand" of the person who started the line, as they didn't need to tell me anything and they set the pace of the production.

I had a friend who practiced Kendo; Japanese Wooden Swordplay, done as training for a Katana, and he would tell me about his experience in sparring, and we had a conversation the mental state he was talking about, being completely still but prepared to perform the next steps in a heartbeat, reading the environment quickly as well as the opponents movements to anticipate the next step, but being prepared to change and adapt at a moments notice.

He said that I had managed to achieve that sort of Martial Art mental focus at my job, despite having only taken karate one summer fifteen years prior (I never followed through with it.)

Naturally, I was teased mercilessly about "Sandwich Fu" and the "Way of the Sub" by him for a couple of weeks afterwards, until I started carry around a bread knife...

J/K!

Probably....

But, in short, if anyone else has had that state of fluid focus then you know what I'm talking about, and that's how I imagine that Sethyas fights, and likely trained Athynae, and I see a perfect parallel in what Ser Trey is expertly narrating here.

It's not so much that Seth is a master swordsman, it's that he's paying attention on a very intense level and is calculating moves beforehand in a split second. It's also very draining however...I was more tired from that type of work than any other in my life. I can only imagine what a life-threatening adrenaline situation would put one through.

*Applauds BH for his excellent, intelligent and almost moving post*...

Now...For mine...

Aw hell yeah!!...*Bounces with excitement!!*...

That's just excellence right there!!...

Absolutely loved it!...



Yes, that would be you, being a man Athlain... ...



Wow... ...I mean, oh hell Wow...

And now...I'm going to go over there *points* out of the way... ...

Absolutely fantastic stuff...Absolutely loving it!!!...

Absolutely nice one!!...

*Applauds absolutely*...

...

This



made me cry!

It hit me like a bang right into my heart.....the despair, the darkness, the legacy of her ...well yes I think you know what I mean here.

There is no limit to which this story will rise...I have just no words anymore, but I think I know what to do now....oh my..........

@haute- In the following, we finally get to see the truth behind Athynae’s thinking. And (looks around for lurking half-elven warrior princesses)- yes, she needs to learn what it feels like to lose, so that her victories will be that much sweeter. And I still have someone’s description of Sancre Tor on my list of all-time best pieces of writing I have ever read.

And it is wonderful to have you and Julian back.

@BH- I know precisely what you mean. I am NOT the most graceful person in the world, but I tend to work out the moves to doing something repetitive such that it becomes a “dance”- and one that is autonomous, allowing the mind to go about its own business.

The other source for that is the few sword exhibitions I have seen- especially the Eastern-style ones. The contestants HAVE to move in harmony, because there is a very real chance of serious injury even with practice weapons.

@McBadgere- Happy dachshund dance to accompany happy badger dance. And- yes, the state of having no clue as to what a woman is thinking is part and parcel of being male.

And- despite your hiding behind Svenja, we now get to see what Thyna thinks about all this. (I DO applaud your choice of shelter, however).

@minque- The… emotional weight of that post- and especially the one that follows, kind of caught us off-guard too. I mean- we understood that the sparring match was a key moment- but when it finally arrived, Thyna decided she has been misinterpreted for far too long- as will be seen.

And it is SO good to see you here. Always.


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“Push, push, push and they all think I am supposed to just sit back and say nothing, then when I do say something they accuse me of acting like a princess… It’s all because of him, he’s the one that keeps running away, he’s the one that keeps leaving me behind and then trying to convince me it’s for my own good. I’ve spent every bit of energy I had for my entire life being his best friend, trying to teach him how to be a warrior, a fighter…for what? So he could run off and leave me behind to join the Legion. Did he tell me he was going? No. Did I have to face the fire of both of our families because of it? Yes. I come to save him and he rewards me by LEAVING me with his family. Now, here I am again, and how does he thank me? First he steals my dagger and deserts me in a cave, then he brings me here and steals my katana and off he goes again…but I am the one that is wrong…. I am the one that should be forever grateful to the powerful high chieftain…”

The practice field was surrounded with the population of the mead hall and everyone else that we had passed on our way there along with any others that had caught the gossip on the wind. Oh, how it did travel here. I had already knocked him unconscious when I was putting on the stupid tournament garb and gotten stern looks from Svenja and Bryn for my efforts, and of course utter disbelief from Ahnya. I had already ruined that attempt at redemption, so what did it matter now?

Bryn fell in step beside me as I paced the perimeter and his presence was not a comfort. He was angry but I didn’t care; so was I. They were all trying to make this my fault. How was it my fault? How? I didn’t tell him to run off and join the Legion, I didn’t tell him to get suckered by that low life Carnius and end up addicted to skooma, I didn’t tell him to get himself appointed Chieftain, AND I DID NOT TELL HIM to steal my katana and then run off like some fraidy guar.

“Why are ye so hard ta understand? Do ye not like what I did to yer sword?” Bryn’s voice carried only when he wanted it to, so mine were the only ears to hear what he was saying.

“You of all people, Bryn, should understand; it has nothing to do with what was done to Dreamer, it has nothing to do with whether she is improved or ruined. I know she is better for having been in your hands. It is what he did to make that happen, it is the rules of friendship that he keeps breaking over and over.”

“And ye aren’t breakin’ rules when ye sucker punch him like tha? It took two of Svenja’s potions to wake him, and yer still Oblivion bent on tryin’ ta make him wish himself dead.”

I caught the edge to his voice but if I had bent the rules it was only in reaction to Athlain already having broken them. Stupid guar butt.

“I have mastered weapons. I have won tournaments; more than any other person on Vvardenfell; I am a better than average healer; I can feel when he is in danger, but the one thing that I cannot do, have never been able to accomplish, is convincing him that all I have ever wanted is to be his friend, the one that has his back.”

“And di’ it occur to ye lass tha’s all he’s aimin’ fer? To keep ye safe, ta ha’ yer back?” He was scolding me, knowing he was the only one here that could get away without one of my pre-accused “princess” responses.

“And what suddenly made him decide I needed someone to have my back? I’ve been trying to teach him how to use weapons most of our lives and beating the scrib jelly out of him in the process and now he thinks I NEED HELP?” Even as I said it another part of my mind was still running through everything that had happened with Hircine’s beast, trying to evaluate every step so that it would never happen again, and with those thoughts came the one that said to me, “Girl, you DO need help.” But that wasn’t what this was about, it was not about me at all; this was about him, this was about me keeping him safe, keeping him alive because that was what I was meant to do. Every last bit of this entire fiasco was stupid; this island affected people’s ability to use their brains. Either that or the addiction had melted some of Athlain’s gray matter…. And he had somehow infected everyone around him.

“Ha ye not noticed lass, that yer a grown lady now? He’s only doin’ wha’s right.”

“Bryn, I think the smoke in that forge has finally taken its toll…I am who I have always been. I am Athynae Sarethi, and age matters not. I am a Redoran warrior, period.”

Bryn just shook his head like I was the one that wasn’t thinking clearly. “The bottom line is this, regardless of what brought us to where we are this minute, whether you want to accuse me of misbehaving, Hircine is the end game. Whether I have Athlain’s back or he has mine, we both have to know where we stand. We both have to know what we can and cannot do in battle. I have not seen what Athlain has learned, this new-made warrior that couldn’t swing a katana without drawing his own blood not so long ago. And Bryn, I will do whatever I have to do to get him to fight, really fight, and if that means I have to act like a spoiled princess, then so be it.”

My expression told Bryn the conversation was over; I had said all that I was going to. I was tired of everyone having misconceptions about my motives but there was no way I would tell them the whole truth either; it was none of their damned business.



Where was this warrior I had heard so much about? Where was the man that had protected and defended this hall and gotten himself appointed Chieftain for his efforts? One blow to the head, down he went. Svenja ran to his aid…one of the three women in my life that had shown me, taught me, how to be human, how be strong inside…right…and now she had pledged her allegiance to Athlain.

As she walked away from him she gave the signal to resume and the look she shot at me was full of disappointment and disgust. All I had ever done was disappoint these people- because what? They expected something else of me? Was I supposed to be a prissy pink princess instead? Stupid people.

Whatever happens, you have to find that place where you know that defeat is not an option. The were attack was unexpected, a new experience. But that is behind you. It doesn’t matter what happened yesterday, only that you can protect Athlain tomorrow. Find yourself; find the warrior that you became only for this purpose. The rumors are merely that obviously; although he can wield the mace better than the sword, he is not the warrior he has been touted as.

He was defending more effectively- good. But defense would not defeat an enemy; it would not save him. I left his head alone and went for his body, the ‘chinks’ in his armor, if you will, and his defense was not as solid. I will say this though, years of getting his arse handed to him taught him how to take a blow. And apparently the onlookers were as disgusted with me as those that I had considered almost family, because they had departed; they did not wish to see the beating of their chieftain by the hoity toity princess.

They didn’t understand. No one did or probably ever would because I could not tell them. I could not explain that it was my self-appointed position to teach him to be a warrior and to protect him until I knew that he was capable of his greatest desire- to be the equal of his father. My entire focus had been on teaching him to fight and learning all I could about healing. The healing part was as much for me as him, that was my ‘after’ goal, until now. I would be a warrior forever now, because I could not teach anyone to fight and by my efforts had taught myself to be the warrior I wanted him to be. I failed him, and that is why he left. That’s why he would leave again. Because he couldn’t count on me. I, Athynae Sarethi of Great House Redoran, was a failure. Everyone left me. The Skaal had known me longer, but now they pledged their hearts and their loyalty to him! He had to run away to the Legion to become the warrior I tried so hard to make him. And he did it- without me. He had changed, he had gone where I could not reach him any longer. He would keep changing and he would keep leaving me farther behind. He would leave me. Like everyone. Like Uncle Seth. So leave then! GO! Change!

Athlain dropped his shield and my anger at him for his abuse of our lifelong friendship sent me hurtling toward the end of this ridiculous spoof of a sparring match. Down to the ground he went and I prepared myself to strike the ‘end blow’. And out of nowhere a small projectile dislodged me from my course. I immediately turned my attack and rolled my arm to offer the cause of my relocation a pommel to brain.

“Slow time,” a skill I had tried to teach myself to call upon at will but had never been quite able to accomplish, brought my vision into focus. Between one heartbeat and the next, I could see everything, could evaluate it, could realize that my assailant was Ahnya. She was a picture of courage and bravery standing over Athlain. Here this child was, feeling the need to protect him, standing in what should have been my position…but that was a thought for another day. I stopped myself before the blow landed; I could not strike her. She was only doing what her heart told her to do.

“Stop it! What’s wrong with you? Leave him alone.”

Seeing her standing there like that, seeing myself in memories that would never fade, screaming at myself to stop hurting him and my mind begging him to defend. All it takes is one opening, just one. Defend until it comes, then take it and make it count. I did not care what anyone thought, if you haven’t guessed, but I remembered every practice session. I remembered every bruise, cut, tear, sprain and break, not because I was what you seem to think, not because I thought I was the high and mighty warrior, but because every injury to him was an injury to me. Every time my weapon touched him, it meant I had not done a good job of teaching him. Now that translated into his death at the hands of Hircine unless I could somehow keep it from happening. My options weren’t many; either I allowed him to accompany me and ran the risk of being distracted by my need to protect him and failed- or I beat him to the point that he could not go at all, either out of shame or due to injury. Because there was no proof now that he was the warrior rumor made him out to be. How did this happen?

Svenja had pinned Athlain to the wall and although I could not hear her past my own mind racing for options, it was worse than any scolding I had ever seen him get from Aunt Baria. I looked at Ahnya and all I wanted to do was disappear. I had broken her heart. I had tried to tell her I was not what she thought. Now she knew. All I could hope was that the moments I had spent with her, teaching her to use a bow, would not be wasted. She could view me as the failure I was, as long as she took what she could use from the lesson and honed her own skills as a hunter.

When Athlain started toward me something was different, he was….taller, his shoulders were wider and he had a ‘warrior’s face’ on that I had never seen before. At the time all of that registered somewhere, because later I would recall it. But it didn’t hit the spot in my brain that needed to have said, looking back, “Change tactics”.

We started the dance again, but this time it was different. The beginning was the same, the rhythm was the same, but then it was disjointed, broken, and I couldn’t find the music. I was leading- but I still felt as if I was a step behind. The one solace I found was that he was defending…well sort of. He wasn’t taking the openings and I left them, not because I intended to, but because he was not dancing a dance I could find the steps for…and my frustration was mounting. I moved, almost got my elbow between his body and his shield- I hate shields by the way- they are stupid. And I loaded my katana to deliver the blow that would truly bring this display to a crashing halt and….

From the distant ether I heard an unfamiliar metallic grind that drew my attention back to the muddled dance just in time to step outside my head and see my miscalculation. I could see the mace coming, but there was nothing I could do except take the blow. And it was without doubt the hardest I had ever been hit, ever. I lost my feet and found my butt, sitting in a snowdrift. No air in my lungs, no air…the swelling of the tissue of my right shoulder had begun on impact. I was struggling to get my lungs to expand and fill as I looked up into Athlain’s face, which was a combination of victory and fear; not the fear of retribution, the fear that he had injured me…that look shocked my lungs into action and a deep gust of ice cold air rushed through and it was like water in the face.

Everything swirled into the most amazing feeling I had ever experienced. This was what I had worked toward; this was all that I had ever wanted to see. I had never truly set out to be an expert weapons wielder; my true intention was to ensure that he was. And now I could celebrate my ultimate win, the one for which there would never be a trophy, other than my knowledge that I had succeeded at the life’s purpose I had assigned myself when we were just children, the last goal I had listed before I became an adult on my 4th birthday.

I searched for a face that would understand, and my eyes met Ahnya’s. The joy I felt blurred my vision, and I am sure my smile was the widest she had ever seen. I tried to send my thoughts to her and what I got in return was a look that said I needed a healing draught because I had lost my mind. Bryn didn’t know what to think either, so he fell back on formality, bellowing, “Time. This match be concluded. Seconds, attend yer fighters.”

“Seconds?” The only second I had ever had- the only one I had ever wanted- was the person who had just put me backside first into the snow. Who here would wish to assist me?

But before that thought had even completed itself, my injured shoulder felt the gentle touch of one of Ahnya’s hands as she offered liquid healing with the other. Her eyes were great pools of emotion. The depth of her concern startled me, but I waved the potion away with a smile. My heart was too full for words, so I gestured. She helped me to my feet only to watch as I hurled myself at Athlain, leaving the stupid wooden practice sword lying in the snow. Svenja stood in front of Athlain, and at first appeared as if she was going to be a wall preventing me from getting to him, but at the last moment she must have decided either she wasn’t willing to take a full on charge for anyone or that my intent was not murderous, so she moved aside. For the briefest moment he guarded, but when he saw my face he dropped his shield. I threw my left arm around his neck because my right was positively useless, but even so I took us both to the ground again.

A counterpoint to the scream of pain from my shoulder injury was my joyful whisper into his ear, “You did it! You did it!”

Ah, I see what you did there. The ol' bait and switch.

Masterfully prepared with a perfect example of perception and it's ability to limit and confine us to one mode of thinking; only to blindside us with the truth later. Like the modified saying goes: "There's three sides to every story. Yours, mine, and the Truth."

Nicely written there Athynae. I liked the bit about "Slow Time", and it shows you understand it better than I could have written it.

I am very pleased as to this stories continuation; and would like to remind its principal Author, that I have here, a dusty copy of the "Balding Spell" given to me in the event of an emergency by your guest-writer, and should it begin to decline in it's rate of updates just as it's becoming more and more engrossing...well, let's just say I hope you can pull off the Buddhist Monk look.

D'you know...I'm suspecting that I'm the recipient of one (or more) of these Balding Spells...Hmmm... ...The only obvious explaination...Yep...

Ooooh lookie!!...

Another part!!!...

See, I'm loving that fact from the start!!...None for ages and then loads all at once...*Sighs contentedly*... ...

Brilliant chapter!!...Having finally gotten the point (narf!) out of the way...Hopefully, they can all calm down now and get their heads down and Quest™!!!!...

Again, Bryn was a star of the piece in a massively understated way...But that's sometimes the best way with these Nords... ...

Brilliantly insightful...Wonderous writing...Beautiful... ...

Looking forward to wherever the Quest™ leads...(Hopefully to one less Daedra... )...

Love it!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds most heartily*...

The great thing about falling behind is the catching up. I had the delight of reading these last parts together, and then reading them all together again (and again ). It was an absolute joy to watch the understanding between them unfold. The sparring was magnificent. The emotional and “what it means” aspect even more so. All I can say is, beautiful!!

How delightful to see Athynae's viewpoint and to appreciate where she is coming from.

That said, I can only shake my head at the hopelessness of it all. Athlain just can't get what 'Thyna is doing, nor can she get what he is doing! I know Athlain has been trying to explain it to 'Thyna, and I know she is trying to explain it to him as well, but one thing both have failed to do is to listen to each other. A common shortcoming in many people, as I've noticed over the years.

I can't wait for them to reach that point in their relationship: once they do they will be a duo to take on the world!

Coming back to read/catch up - 4 chapters behind. "I'll be back!" (said in Arnold's voice)

An excerpt from The Prophecies of the Hunter

The Blood Moon rises and the Hunter plans
Turns the prey’s strength to His advantage

Snares to entangle the swift
Thickets to hinder the strong
Mazes to dazzle the wise
False trails to bewilder the cunning

The Hunter has chosen his ground
He sends the pack to harry the prey


An excerpt from The Way of the Sword by Gaiden Ildean

If one chooses the sword, it cannot be an idle dalliance. The sword demands your whole heart. Treat her well and she will be more constant than any lover.


A note left at Thirsk, Solstheim, (a portion):

The boy is right. You need to work on defense. Also, we have discussed that habit of dropping your left elbow too soon. I am glad to see that Dreamer has finally reached her potential.

And I am pleased that the boy has proved that he is able to guard you as you have guarded him. If you allow it, your trust will be rewarded. And speaking of rewards, please be sure young Athlain understands the significance of the token I left him. He has never given up, either.

S.


A letter posted from Thirsk, Solstheim to Sarethi Manor, Vvardenfell (a portion):

…do not understand what purpose is served by having him skulking about. Is he supposed to be watching me? Or is this some form of punishment? If either of you has something to say to me- just SAY it. If I am to do what I must, I cannot afford to be distracted by some ridiculous game.

Ah, I am most delighted by those tantalizing scraps of paper/letters! I can just hear the voices of their authors.

Bravo!

Can we have more? Please?

Another interlude.

Another part, and the path continues. I do not relish the thought of an ending, but still realize that the journey is the most important part.

Destinations are inevitable. Why hurry?

What?...Interludes aren't supposed to take more time than the actual MQ of the thing? ...I had no idea... ...

Very intriguing...And obviously excellent...

Looking forward to the next part...Though I'm lost as to who's go it is next... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

@Black Hand- Well- did not want Thyna to get a reputation for predictability. And you hit upon the key concept- she has always known the “why” of what she is doing. She is just less than patient with all the people (read- the whole rest of the world) who “don’t get it.” And she is less than gracious when it comes to explaining her actions. The “Slow Time” probably took longer to iron out the way we wanted than most of the rest of the post. It was hard to describe in TES-friendly terms, and avoid cinematic language. Most pleased that it worked.

Um--- um. Balding spell. Oh dear. Look at the time. Must go see a pen about a pixel. I mean off to write. Yes indeed.

Oh- and um, yes well. We kind of “borrowed” Seth again for the Interlude. It seemed obvious that he would be somewhere nearby during such an important moment in Athynae’s life.

@McBadgere- I do not doubt that some stray balding spell fallout (oh I do crack myself up)… found its way to Wales. Not sure if it reversible, but you could certainly post up lots of new story and see what happens… Just saying….

With threats from lurking assassins (see above)- as well as new inspiration, I hope we will have new parts more frequently. And yes- it is about time they got around to seeing about what it was that brought us all here in the first place. There will be more showcasing of one of the “minor” characters in this next bit… They have their own stories it seems- and rather feel like having them heard.

Many thanks.

I could write an Interlude noting- “A whole lot of stuff happened; some people lived, others died; and then, as quickly as it began- it was over.”

The fact that I would not only be lynched, but also rendered bald, rather prevents me from doing so. Which means the torches and pitchforks can just go back into the closet- and the balding spells can be pointed that way, thanks very much.

@Grits- You know, part of why it took this part so long to “cook” was because I got too caught up in worrying about how the physical combat would play out. What got it unstuck was realizing- through a number of conversations with my co-author- that the real conflict was within Athynae herself. When we write scenes that get your seal of approval- we know we have done well.

@haute- Yes, they do rather tend to talk past each other most of the time. A good thing about Athlain still being able to occasionally “hear” Athynae’s thoughts is that he at last knows some of her reasons for pushing him so hard for so many years. To put it another way- I blame Azura….

And more you shall have. The Interludes are fun, because they give me a chance to toss out scraps of information- and also to hint at whole subplots that may never be fully explored- except in the reader’s imagination.

@mALX- And we hope that you will have great joy in the reading. I know that we are wonderfully happy to have you doing so.


As to where we are- I wrote a humorous summary- which got eaten by the internet. So phooey. Here is Chapter 17.

Where we are (attempt the second). The A and A team have worked out some of their “trust issues” in the time-honored tradition of beating upon each other with practice weapons. The result of which was Athlain knocking Athynae into a snowdrift. And, because she is a complex person, and also because that result is one she has been working to achieve for years, Athynae was pleased with the outcome. Before she passed out.

Perhaps now, with some of the baggage cleared out of the way, they can prove that they do not have Nac Mac Feegle as well as Nord in their heritage, and actually get out of a mead hall. (Although- as far as we know, Athynae is not Nordish- despite her currently red hair. And anyway, that is a whole other fictional universe). However, if they do accomplish the feat, two missions (possibly connected?) await them- finding Athlain’s missing Legion commander and kicking princely Daedric buttock. The second goal is because Hircine has called the Great Hunt, and in so doing has selected two of my favorite characters to “participate.” (No- not Bryn and Svenja- two of my other favorite characters).

In a preliminary to that little set-to, a werewolf attacked and infected Athynae, who thought she was saving Athlain (again!) She was cured, but the Daedric Prince of Fleas interfered with the cure and left her night-blind, thus creating another point she would like to “discuss” with him. She is now better equipped to do so, as she has a really cool sword, courtesy of Athlain. However, Athlain almost got himself killed in the getting of the sword, because, well- it was already her sword and he took it to be “improved” without asking. There is probably much more, but I hear the telltale sizzling of a balding spell being loaded, so- let’s have some story, shall we?



-------------------------------



Winning a match against Athynae, and doing so decisively, was a new experience. Perhaps I would have enjoyed it more if I could have seen anything except the great black spot on her otherwise pristine white practice tunic- and the swelling of her shoulder beneath it. Carbo’s words about the mace as a weapon echoed in my head:

Some people look down on maces because they don’t have an edge. But only because they’ve never been hit by one. It’s a bone-breaker, pure and simple. And it doesn’t require finesse to do serious damage. You hit somebody with a mace- anywhere- and he’s going to know he’s been kissed.

I winced at the remembered metaphor and began to reach a hand to channel healing magic into the wound. It was more serious than anything I had ever attempted- shoulders are complex- but…. Two huge hands grasped Thyna gently around the waist and lifted her off of me. As he set her back on her feet, Bryn managed to look simultaneously pleased and concerned, despite his abundance of facial hair. He supported the wavering Thyna and rumbled:

“Shhh, lass. Hold ye still and let Svenja have a look.”

With Ahnya’s help, he loosed the ties on the tunic and the straps of the pauldron underneath. Svenja probed the shoulder, her eyes narrowed in concentration, muttering a commentary to herself.

“Bruising, cracked the socket, collarbone too, I shouldn’t wonder.”

She used a couple of deft strokes of her knife to turn the tunic into a sling, immobilizing the arm. Somewhere during that time, Athynae lost consciousness, which would have annoyed her to no end had she been able to witness it. As for me, a wave of nausea engulfed me, and I crawled away from the group to decorate the snow with the remnants of my breakfast. For a while, I just stayed there, hunched on my hands and knees. Perhaps I could maintain that pose until the snow covered me. In fact, I could feel the first flakes settling on the back of my neck. Except- it was not snow- but a small white hand that reached to brush my hair from my forehead.

Then came a quiet voice.

“She will be fine, my lord. Cousin Svenja is a wonderful healer. She trained with Serene, after all.”

Ahnya. Was there no limit to this girl? First, she had confronted Thyna, had stood over me and been ready to take a blow to defend me. And then, when Bryn had called the seconds forward, she had gone to Athynae’s side. That had always been my place- I was the only second she would have, in every competition she had ever entered. But now…. With that one strike of the practice mace, so much had been changed, shattered, knocked sidewise. And yet, through my tangle of emotions, I understood that this change was necessary. Though I could- in fact must- stand by Thyna’s side, from this day forward, it would be as an equal, not as an aide. And who better than Ahnya to step into my previous role?

Svenja had completed her examination and directed the smith, “Bryn, let’s get her upstairs. I want to get a healing potion into her, as well as some essence of poppy. Otherwise, she will try to heal it herself.”

The smith cradled Athynae in his arms and carried her to her room. I followed, because while Ahnya might now be her second, I was still her best friend and my place was by her side. I was done with trying to leave her behind, with sending her away. My own body ached from the sparring match, but my heart sang as I recalled the undisguised joy in her eyes as she whispered, “You did it.” Her shoulder would heal soon- and now- so would the wound that had gaped between us for so long. We would still argue- would still shout at one another- our relationship had not changed that much. But neither of us would ever again feel as of we had failed the warrior code we had adopted almost as soon as we could walk.

Our parents had not been pleased with that pledge, had hoped we would “grow out of it;” but we never did. Mother understood better than anyone, I think, except perhaps for Sethyas. I remembered listening in as Mother spoke with Father and Serene one night, when I was supposed to be in bed.

“Both of you joined Great House Redoran when you were adults.” She stopped Father’s murmured protest by reminding him, “Yes, dear, I know you were very young- in years- but not in experience.”

She paused and I could hear the sadness, as well as the smile behind which it hid.

“But those two were born into this cauldron of honor and obligation and the warrior tradition. You can no more tell Athynae and Athlain to be something else then I can ask a scathecraw to produce apples. What we can do is make sure that we give them every chance to survive. Both of you were able to set aside the sword, but that was a choice. And it does not alter all of the things you did before making that decision. So. How shall we proceed?”

I leaned closer to hear, being careful not to bump into the door at which I listened.

“Is Athlain as hopeless with the sword as it seems- or is it simply because he senses your disapproval?”

I could not hear Father’s response- he usually spoke in low tones- but Mother’s words made his answer clear, at least partly.

“Then you need to encourage him to…,” she apparently poured tea for everyone, because the rattle of cups and plates covered her next words. “Serene, I hope you can help with that?”

I heard her sigh as she settled back into her own chair in the study.

“We cannot stop our children from pursuing this course- we can only guide them and do everything in our power to keep them alive.”

Her last words had a wistful tone, “And perhaps in the fullness of time, they can also emulate you in setting aside their weapons. I will live with that hope. I must.”

After Bryn had placed Thyna on her bed, Svenja dismissed us with an impatient wave of the hand.

“Ahnya and I need to get her out of that armor and you will only be in the way.”

I paced the gallery outside the rooms, trying to distract myself by listening to the revelry below. I sincerely hoped that today’s episode would not find its way into song. I might be able to live with verses detailing the beating I had received, or even my digestive issues- but endless renditions of how I had broken Thyna’s shoulder would be unbearable. Bryn seemed to sense my thoughts, for he stopped me with a gentle hand and a quiet word.

“Be ye at peace, lad. Herself holds nae grudge for what passed. In truth, she be mightily pleased wi’ ye. Ye knew it not, but giving her that knock was the answer to her heart’s desire. As fer me, my plate will be full, fixin’ the dints ye twain made in one another’s armor.”

I did not bother to point out that the only “dints” were in my armor, so he smiled and disappeared down the stairs and out the door.

A few minutes later, Svenja ushered me into Athynae’s room. A slight frown creased her brow.

“We set the shoulder and I dosed her, but she is fighting the poppy. I have never known anyone so stubborn. Perhaps your presence will calm her. She wants something- but I know not what it is. I am going to make sure the hunters don’t tear down the hall, and then I will check back in a few hours.”

I approached the bed and saw that although Athynae was asleep, it was as Svenja had said; she was not resting. She was propped up on several pillows and her right shoulder and arm were swathed in linen. It was a familiar scene, except that until now, I had been the one bandaged and lying in bed. Her eyes moved restlessly beneath the lids and her left hand lay twitching on top of the covers. It opened and closed, as if trying to grasp something. Ahnya spoke quietly from the opposite side of the bed:

“Oh look, she wants to hold your hand! Isn’t that romantic?”

I only restrained myself from laughing with great difficulty. Thyna was many things, the vast majority of them good, but she was not “romantic.” That trait was reserved for my youngest sister and her addiction to dreamy Imperial novels. Dreamy…?

“She doesn’t want to hold my hand- she wants her sword! Ahnya- if you would please?”

I asked Ahnya to bring Dreamer rather than doing so myself for two reasons. First, it was now her responsibility to take care of Thyna’s arms and armor. More important, I would never again touch one of her blades without her permission.

“Are you certain, sera?” Her eyes darted from Dreamer to Athynae. “It’s just that she is rather… possessive of her sword. I have no wish to face her in the arena. She knocked you out… twice… and you have Legion training.”

“Ahnya, you are her second. One of your duties will be caring for her gear. Besides, you are giving the sword to her, not taking it away. And while you are about it, please place her dagger under the pillows.”

If Ahnya had hesitated before, she became positively frozen. She chewed her lip and twisted her hands together.

“Is that wise? What if she wakes in a fog from the poppy and… makes a mistake?”

I did smile at that. “Athynae never makes mistakes with her blades. And I assure you- that dagger has been under her pillow every morning when you wake her.”

Ahnya’s eyes grew huge. “But… my lord, I do not ‘wake her.’ I just leave the tea on the bedside table where she can smell it and then I leave. Quietly.”

“A wise choice. You will make an outstanding hunter.”

“I hope so. But- that is another thing. I never asked to be her second. And she never asked me, either. I don’t know how to be second. I don’t even know how to be a third.”

My brain experienced a stutter like a malfunctioning Dwemer construct as I tried to decipher Ahnya’s “explanation”. Finally, I just mentally shrugged and plowed ahead.

“When Bryn called for the seconds to come forward, you stepped up, did you not?”

“She was hurt. What was I supposed to do, just let her lie there? I was simply acting as her friend.”

My heart filled at her simple declaration. “Then continue as you have begun. She does not have many friends.”

“She is more complicated than a double game of horker chess. But she taught me how to use the bow, and offered much wisdom about all weapons. She did not treat me as a child. But she is hardly older than I am. How does that happen?”

“When Mistress Athynae Sarethi sets her sights upon a goal, she does not give up. Besides, she declared herself an adult at the age of 4.”

Ahnya laughed at that and quickly covered her mouth with her hands, fearful of disturbing her patient.

“But, sera- that’s just silly.”

I nodded in agreement. “For anyone else, perhaps so. But that was the day the Ahemmusa gave Athynae her first bow. And it was not a toy, but a real bow, sized to fit her hands.”

The girl still looked skeptical. “At that age, anything is a ‘toy,’ isn’t it?”

“Judge for yourself. A few days later, she used it to kill a diseased cave rat that had gotten into her room. She did not call for the steward until afterward, and then only because she wanted to have it mounted as her first trophy.”

Ahnya stared out the window, looking toward the north. She was quiet for so long that I began to think the conversation was over. At last she looked at me, with tears standing in her eyes. She whispered:

“Does being her second mean that I… that I have to go with her, when she faces the Prince of the Hunt?”

“Oh Ahnya. No! Your place is here. Neither of us would ever ask anyone else to take the path we must follow. I do not doubt your courage, or your skill. But… by the Nine- no!

I shuddered at the thought of putting anyone else in danger. I was doubtful enough of the outcome already. But that was a worry for another day.


”Now, as her friend, please. Bring her blades to her. Believe me, she will rest better with them close to hand.”

Ahnya did as I asked, although she handled Dreamer as if afraid the katana might set her hands on fire at any moment. When she had settled the sword into Thyna’s hand and the dagger beneath the pillows, she breathed an audible sigh of relief. Then she looked at me, and sounding almost like Svenja, intoned:

“And now you should seek your bed.”

“As should you.”

“No, sera. I am not leaving her. What if she needs something?”

“I will be here.”

“But… I am not certain that is proper.”

“Ahnya, after the beating she gave me, I am not sure I can even move from this chair.”

She considered for a moment and then gave a decisive nod. “In that case, I will bring you one of Svenja’s healing potions. And a blanket. And I will also stay here. I can use the window seat.”

She turned to look at the figure on the bed and murmured, “Look, she is finally resting.”

And so it was. Athynae had turned onto her left side, Dreamer cradled against her, her breathing slow and regular.

*Refolds dusty parchment.*

This will do Trey, this will do.

(SGM!)

Utterly brilliant...Just...Amazing...

As a wise man once said, when I grow up, I want to write like this... ...



Ouchie... ...Remind me to avoid any maces that lie about the house...Not that we...No...Of course not... ...

Loved the whole interch...Um...Chat between Athlain and Ahnya...(How many bloody "A" characters are ye having lad? )...

As for the secondary character thing...I'm pretty sure I read somewhere...Although I can't for the life of me remember where, and it sounds too clever for it to be my diseased mind to have come up with to justify my bazillion characters...Aaanyways, the line goes something like -

"There's no such thing as a secondary character...Just other stories..."

I love Ahnya...I think she's been a brilliant addition...

The whole story is amazing...I'm so glad I joined all that time ago...It's been a blessing to have this to read...

Absolutely nice one!!...

*Applauds most heartily*...

I have to agree with McB - there are no secondary characters, just stories waiting their turn to be told.

I have a whole series of novels written that do just this - the "secondary characters" of the first novel gets their story told in the next one, then secondary characters in the second get the third, and so on. I have about five of those daisy-chained stories completed and love each of those characters!

Anyway, the quiet time after Athynae passed out is quite delicious. I enjoyed Athlain's musings and could hear him growing more in this installment. Their relationship moves forward, and yes, they will keep fighting but now they are equals. That's a great step ahead for them.

And yes, I'm with Athlain - Athynae is not a romantic! Like him, I figured she was looking for her blades. Wasn't surprised that she settled down once she got them where they belonged!

*

Not caught up yet, just wanted to quote this - LOVED IT !!!!!!!! Did you make this up? I couldn't find the book in the Imperial Library! Awesome!



Awesome Write so far as I've gotten!


*

Ahnya. Was there no limit to this girl?
I thought the same thing. Ahnya’s actions have so beautifully highlighted the changes between the other two As. Her (Ahnya’s) little gesture to comfort Athlain brought a tear.

I sincerely hoped that today’s episode would not find its way into song.
Good luck with that.

“Oh look, she wants to hold your hand! Isn’t that romantic?”
Of course she wanted her sword! You have let us know that part of her so well.

A lovely and very satisfying aftermath that is also kind of a gentle (at least while Athynae is asleep) beginning.

Yes...speechless again! *waving head in pure delight*

Now then. About Thyna, .i'm sure that deep down inside her she actually HAS a romantic spot... But I agree it's well hidden.

S.G.M

I used to enjoy a very large number of stories on these forums but these days I just don't have the time so I read a very small number of those that have been writing for a long time. I initially came here because of stories by two writers, you and Minque. If I remember correctly (it has been some years) I read Minque's story first and then got hooked, which is what caused me to join these forums. Then I discovered your story and became addicted to it as well.

Unfortunately Minque no longer writes, which I can definitely understand, and I'll admit that the inspiration to write almost never hits me these days either.

Anyways enough rambling, I'm glad you're still writing. I'm still reading even though I often have to catch up several updates each time.

I'm with Kiln here - it's getting difficult to keep up with all the new stories these days. I should play catch up soon - like when I'm done with school . . .

Anyway Trey, your fits and starts fit in perfectly with my schedule these days! So that's just fine!

ohh you make me blush Mr Oven! And ..well..I'm not exactly POSTING updates at the time being...and I'm actually not putting words on paper so very much..BUT BUT....in my head is the continuation of Serene slowly taking form.....just so you know

People underestimate the value of good thinking time... ...

As I've maintained since the start, I will go back and read everyone's story from the start, at some point...I'm just waiting for the time to become available...It will, yes it will...I know...

Other than the horror that the server may eat all the stories if it goes down, I'm sure that none of the stories are going anywhere anytime soon...

Oh, sorry...As you were... ...

*Applauds heartily some more...Because he can...*... ...

@Everyone- Because my own RL situation has so limited my reading time, I appreciate all the more those who continue to read and respond. Like McB, I keep telling myself- “I WILL get time to read everyone’s words- dangit.” Anyway, my thanks to you all.

@Black Hand- My follicles thank you. And also- many thanks for allowing the “borrowing” of Sethyas- which will continue for the next several posts….

@McBadgere- “…I want to write like this.” Wow. Um… that leaves me pretty much speechless- because I have read and admired your words- and continue to do both. Thank you. Maces- yes. I always found it hilarious in various fantasy RPGs that they were considered OK for priests because they are “not designed as blood-letting weapons.” “Crushing, maiming, pulverizing, pulping- but hey- no edge- so the Church says it’s all right” Note to self to add some characters with names starting with “B”…. And the concept of other stories is an absolute gem- and is something that has slowly penetrated my thick skull. My thanks to you, my friend.

@haute- An area of my writing that I have been most pleased with has been recognizing and drawing upon ALL the stories that go into making the “main story.” In large part, I have done so because I saw how effective and pleasing that approach has been from other writers- yourself among them. And it is quite wonderful to know that you have so many more stories waiting in the wings! Athlain’s development is something I wanted to show as “realistically” and gradually as possible. In the beginning, I actually envisioned him as a sheltered, somewhat spoiled , “rich kid.” But- he had a solid foundation to build upon once he was given a chance to grow. And I figured Julian’s biographer would recognize the comfort of one’s trusted weapons, especially while recovering from an injury.

@mALX- Thank you so much for reading. And I am really pleased by your response to the excerpt from “The Way of the Sword”- because, well- I made it up myself. The trouble with that is- I may have to write the rest of the book….

@Grits- Thirsk has become a trove of wonderful characters, each with their own stories. Bryn and Svenja are “in-game,” but have been given much more to say. Ahnya is a pure invention of my co-author, and a wonderfully welcome one. I have plans for “Athlain the Bold” (the song), but those must await the posting of the Epilogue (which is mostly already written – gulp). I figured everyone except Ahnya would know that Dreamer is Thyna’s “security blanket- but writing that bit made me smile. Glad it worked for you, as well. The next couple of posts will show Athynae in a somewhat different light also.

@minque- Oh, yes, our girl is far more “romantic” than she will ever admit, even to herself. (But I never said that).

Where we are- Athynae and Athlain have finally had their first “sparring session” since the whole “you stole my katana! I only did it to make it better! You are a thief! And you are a princess!” bit. Due to Bryn’s wise insistence that he would not allow them to kill each other with anything HE had crafted, they used practice weapons. Which did not prevent Athynae from bashing her “best friend” unmercifully- or said “best friend” from finally actually HITTING her. The result was the sort of injury one might expect from a mace wielded by a trained Legion officer. Ahnya- as is becoming routine for her- showed heart and determination, as Athynae’s second when it was over, and as Athlain’s friend as he contemplated the damage he had caused. Meanwhile, a certain mysterious Dunmer assassin observed the proceedings from a distance- and drew some conclusions, even as he eased the draw on his bow-string. And thanks to Black Hand, that Dunmer will be making a guest appearance. My thanks to him. And my especial thanks to my co-author for what we are about to read.

-------------------------------------------------------------


At the edge of consciousness I felt someone carrying me; if my shoulder hadn't been hurting so badly I would have been mortified, but then the thought I had had before I tackled Athlain rolled over me

"Lainie, danger," was all I could mutter.

“Easy lass; I’ve got ye. The laddie is fine other than some stomach issues. Guess it was something he ate.”

I tried to shift my weight in hopes that it would ease the searing pain and all it did was send me back into darkness. It was a short reprieve as I came to just as Bryn was placing me on my bed. Svenja was uttering and muttering as she and I assumed Ahnya removed my armor with little or no help from me. The arm was useless and the pain there was rendering every other part of my body almost as incompetent. A fleeting thought- How many times had Athlain been in this much pain by my hand?

“Don’t try any of your healing magic, Athynae.” Svenja’s voice broke as she said it. “The pain could prevent the spell from working properly. I’ll get the healing started and once we’ve got the insides properly set then you may do as you wish.”

There was a pause and as much as I could focus on her face, it was waiting for me to say something. “Do you understand?” She looked almost angry.

“I understand.” I hadn’t planned on it anyway. One- what she said was exactly right and two- this was the least that I deserved.

“Drink this; don’t even let it stop in your mouth.” She put the vial to my lips and her hand to the back of my head and the liquid had no sooner hit my tongue and started down my throat when I realized what she’d done. She had added poppy to the healing draught; she didn’t trust me to leave it to her, and she was trying to send me into a 24-hour abyss.

I’d only had poppy once before when the Sisters Red had decided they didn’t want me meddling in a plot they were cooking up for Athlain. It was not a comfortable rest. Although I don’t think my body moved, my mind was awash with dreams both good and bad, unrealistic, colorful, frightening, turning into peaceful and comforting as quickly as an arrow clears the bow.

The wrapping began and the draught must have had some sort of pain reliever as well because it didn’t seem quite as intense, or maybe it was the poppy dulling my mind, who knows. “Stop, Svenja, please.” My voice was low and cracking, I wondered if she’d even heard.

“What is it child?”

“It isn’t set as it should be, something feels out of place. I can’t move it to decide; my fingers are completely dead.”

She said something to someone, Ahnya or Athlain, I’m not sure. She removed the two layers of cotton wrapping and two very strong hands, one on the front of my shoulder and one on the back, placed pressure, then Svenja’s cool hand slid down my shoulder as she took my elbow in her other hand and a quick….

I wondered if the scream I heard was just in my head or if I had allowed it to escape my lips, but in just that span of time my fingers were burning like I’d stuck them in the fire and I collapsed into the hands that were supporting my shoulder. I barely felt the pillow before total blackness engulfed me.

The forest was thick and dark and I was defenseless, I could find nothing to wrap my hand around, no weapon, but the foreboding I felt…. I kept trying to find her hilt in the dark; the evil was everywhere; I needed to defend myself. Open, close, open close. “Please Azura, help me. I need her, I need Dreamer, PLEASE!” And no sooner had I uttered the prayer than I felt the familiar grip in my hand. I wrapped my fingers around her and the entire forest sighed with me; in this dream, it knew, like I did, this sword would let no harm come. I laughed at the irony; the sword can only do what the wielder directs it to. It will not block a giant meat tenderizer from removing an arm unless it is guided to that purpose. Frustration had caused me to drop my guard and thus my present circumstance. Caught in a drug-induced dream to keep me still. Svenja, this might not bode well for you when all is said and done.

Colors changed and the wolves were chasing me, a multitude of them, all sizes and shapes. There were too many to turn and fight, too many…. They became familiar figures. Mother, Rah, Seth…Father…all of them, then they were wolves again, back and forth. Some small part of my subconscious knew this was just a dream but I couldn’t stop running; I couldn’t find the hole in the scenery to step out of the fear as I ran toward the line that was the end of the world.
Black again.

Laughter, children playing, fields of flowers, poppies, beautiful. The fragrance was like sunshine. One child sat alone on a boulder with a bow; she was the guardian of them all, scouring the edges of the field for danger. She was alone but she wasn’t lonely; she loved them all. It was her choice to be where she was and she didn’t wish to be anywhere else. Even as the children beckoned her to join them she would not; their safety took precedence over her behaving irrationally, running amok, being a child herself. Tag was the game, but playing wasn’t her forte.

“Hello my princess.” The voice…

“Uncle Seth? Why are you here? The children are playing and I am guarding them.”

“Seems to me you should have been guarding yourself a bit more effectively. You dropped your shoulder again and for once Athlain caught the opening. You have paid a hefty price for being so impulsive.”

“I got only what I deserved. I beat him without mercy for an age; left him bruised, bleeding, broken, unconscious…I only wish this had happened sooner. He has accomplished on his own what I could never teach him Uncle Seth. I feel as if I failed my mission, my purpose- only to see him run away from all that he had ever known so that he could find the man that I knew was there.” Even in the dream I could feel the hot tears scorching my cheeks.

“Nay Athynae, that is not true. I saw all that you have taught him and more. Had you not, he would not be where he is now. Were it not for you, he would have been dead long before now.”

I wanted to feel the comfort he intended but I couldn’t find what he saw. I did still feel the elation I had felt when Athlain bested me, but now it didn’t seem quite as satisfying as it had then.

“I would have gone with him.” I could feel myself getting lost but somehow these were all words that I needed to say. “I would have followed him to the realm of the mad god if that is what he wished.”

“He did not wish for you to go at all, princess. He needed to find himself and he could not do that in your company.”

“He is not my best friend anymore; he does not feel the same as I. He is not the same person and he has grown apart from me.”

“He has grown no more than you have. But you were never overshadowed; you have always been the person you are, never hindered by who your…parents…are.” Something in his voice caught and it rang a bell somewhere else in my head but that’s all.

“He didn’t have to live in a shadow if I didn’t.”

“Each of us is our own person and we must face our own challenges in order to discover who we truly are. It is part fate and part not; it is how we see the world and how we allow the world to see us. Some of us never show anyone anything but the character we have created for them to see and some of us, like you, are always the same. You do not act any other way than the way you are.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will, someday. Rest now and heal; you have set yourself a high test this time, princess. And you must know, without doubt, that you are ready to face Hircine and send him back to whence he came. You’ve never done anything in your life in a small way and this is no exception- but princess- you do not go alone. You have a warrior at your side.”

I felt his hand slip away from mine and my heart felt as if it was freezing.

Dream, dream, dream…just a dream, all just a dream. Poppy. I was dreaming.

Wasn’t I?

I am alone, a space with no contour, no color, sitting on air, seeing nothing, only feeling. Am I so alone because that is the way I designed it? Did everyone run away from me or did I push them? Did they know how much I truly cared for them?

The colors changed into swirling dark clouds and red flashes and coming through the mist was a monster or a man, I’m not sure. His face was obscured by a mask but his body was like chiseled stone. And then a voice I was far too familiar with….

“So you are more legend than truth, are you not, daughter of Serene? I was beginning to think I was going to actually be challenged for the first time in a thousand years, but alas, after seeing what transpired between you and the offspring of the Nerevarine I am afraid you will both die and quickly. So sad since you have fought so hard thus far. You and he have far too much heart to be warriors or assassins or the Head of Great House Redoran for that matter. Your mother has no heart Athynae. She is a great actress though; you believe as everyone else does, that her very existence is sustained by a love that she does not even have.”

“I may die, I care not, but you WILL go down with me one way or another you giant pile of dog dung. I will send you back to the Oblivion you spawned from and know this- if I do survive it will be my sole purpose to make sure you stay there. I know that everything that has happened is because of you. Athlain was drawn here by your game, the pieces you placed on the board and by extension, so was I, and now we are forced to play the game that you have designed. But leave the rest of our families out of this. You do not know my mother or his father any better than you know us; you are just using words to play on my emotions. I’ll let you in on a secret- I have none. I do not do what I do out of anything less than duty, and I take that very seriously. It is my duty to be his guard and it is his duty to be mine, no more, no less.”

His laughter boomed in my head long after the apparition faded.

I smelled tea….

OOoh, that was proper epic right there!...

Always do love a good dreamscape me...

Oooh, 24 hours asleep...Mmmm...*Nods and sighs wistfully*...That would be soooo nice... ...

Aaamywho...As ever, excellently amazing writing...The pre-dream stuff was brilliant, but then when she was under, loved the idea of the forest, and that even in the dream she'd set herself apart and above everyone else... ...Amazing stuff...

Then, Seth...*Applauds*...Damn...I know where I'm off to after this... ...



That was proper brilliance right there...I absolutely loved that line...Simple, but brilliant...

Creepy and scary ending...*Raises eyebrow*...Do it again... ...

Absolutely amazing...Loved it hugely...

As a very wise man is fond of observing..."And there's more..."...*Giggles excitedly*...

Looking forward to it...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

WOAH!!! Now what? Indeed extremely interesting....Sooo Renie has no heart? Hmmm hehe wasn't aware of that, I always thought she has TOO MUCH of a heart...

Aaaanyway..brilliant writing I second every applause McBadgy gives!

Really very interesting I must say....hmmmm

*Sigh*

Takes a deep breath. (and relishing the fact that after more than a year, I can now do so!)

*Sigh*

Now that's the sort of writing that is well worth the waiting! I have enjoyed rejoining the A side of the A&A (and now another A) team. Excellent description of the poppy-induced train of thoughts that are still very characteristic of this Dunmer princess. Even with the drugs, I can still see her strong personality as clear as day.

And the fact that she still has her priorities straight made me smile!