From the shadows I come with my take on this whole Bloody Moon business.

First, let's get the self-indulgence out of the way. I like Seth, you like him too. I must have done something right when I wrote about this creepy, cranky Dunmer. Silent, yet apparently strong personality, as you've masterfully portrayed here. I never told you how to write him, I never said this was okay but that wasn't.

No, you took the time to read my story; for which I am eternally flattered, then asked to use him, and I said "Go nuts." Which you did, and it was awesome. This goes for both authors. If I could only come up with half the descriptions that you do.

Especially combat, I still suck in that regard. But let's move on.

Athynae, Athynae, Nay-nay. What can I say? I'm questioning reality myself here now. I've never been in an opioid-induced stupor, such as Morphine drip and all that, and frankly I hope I never have too. That being said, I think I already can imagine the state it would put me in from this dreamscape.

Now I'm wondering myself if Seth really was there, or if it was just the proverbial 'voice in your head' you get from knowing someone so well over so many years. Those of us who still talk to our passed-away loved ones likely know what I'm talking about.

Then we have Hircine and his psychological warfare. Which; again, could just be a manifestation of her doubts. A subconscious soul-searching. An odyssey through the spirit, that reveals what we all know on some level: You possess the wisdom necessary to meet life's challenges. But I'm getting off-topic, nicely done with a dark, demonic figure who is living up to his own image evidently.

I would say, on the whole, this Preparation feels good.

I like how it's the story of the next generation finding themselves, without it having a "Teen Titans" feel to it. We are seeing these kids grow up; quite literally, before us.

This is also hella ironic given that I'm the youngest in this quartet of character authors, if the internet speaks the truth.

Yes Blackie you may be the youngest...but still Sethyas made such an impression on us all, you made him just...irresistible to interpret! (which I hope that I also made to your satisfaction)

Btw...I am the oldest of us four

First things first- (enjoy it while you can because the following post will be a bit of a "time warp").

Athynae's responses to the wonderful commments:

@McB- Many thanks as always to you my friend. I do hope we continue to keep you entertained as well as keeping you always guessing what comes next...and yes, 24 hours of sleep would be a wonderful experience.

@Minque- The "heartless" comment came from her tormentor and he is just trying to get under her skin even more than he already has...Renie is all heart and then some...and we all MISS HER TERRIBLY....so so happy to see you here, thank you so much for your presence always...

(Athynae) Mother this is getting quite frightening and I am in a place I have never been before.

@Haute- First I am elated that you are back to being able to take that deep breath as well. I am also quite happy that you are reading and enjoying the Triple A's...and yes, her priorities are in order, well the top of the list at least is always "TEA"... it tames the beast she wakes with every morning- just ask anyone who knows her.

@Black Hand- First of all, thank you for not only allowing us to 'use' Seth but also trusting us enough to just step back and watch. We still can't just write it and not let you have a go first, it's just the way we are, but also we do want to make certain that we do not accidentally show a character trait that you feel is against his character.

Athynae sees Seth far differently than everyone else because not only has he been a constant in her life since she was born but he has shared with her aspects of himself that he has shared with no one else simply because adults that connect with a child, regardless of who they are, will do this without realizing it. Plus Seth offered her the opportunity to show herself without reservation, he made no judgements of who she was, nor did he reprimand her for perceived wrongs like everyone else did-because he understood why she did what she did even when she didn't.

Enough of all that....bottom line is this, THANK YOU!!! My goal and aim with Seth is to show the readers how Thyna sees him and who he is to her, the relationship that he has with Athlain is the 'opposite' and because of that tends to add a bit of 'darkness' to the character and allows the readers to see him the way everyone else does...lalalalala

Thank you again. I do hope that I never take anything away from Seth or from you as his true writer. Yes I read the stories, actually a multitude of times, because I wanted to truly understand him and then see him the way Thyna would. You are a tremendous writer and I am a honored that you have not only shared your words with me but your character as well.

As far as you being the 'baby' in this circle I believe that is correct because somewhere in the catacombs of my dark and sometimes cobweb filled mind I recall a passing thought that you were born the year Trey and I met... ba dump bump! That makes me feel old.

This next post begins as the just-concluded sparring match was getting under way. The main reason for that, as will be seen, is to allow me to shamelessy steal ah... happily borrow... the words of a guest-writer. He wrote the POV piece just because he wanted to "see" things from a different perspective, never realizing that I would jump upon his words like a starving dachshund on a T-bone steak. (Note to those who are not aware- dachshunds are *always* starving, at least in their own minds). Anyway, my thanks to Black Hand, for the words, for allowing us to "borrow" his character, and etc. And now- back to Thirsk....

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

“I've taught you all I can teach. The rest is to discover your own potential. Even swordplay is an art, and you must discover your own technique like a painter with a brush."

”But what about you? Will you learn more? Will you learn from other teachers?”

"Of course, child. Once you know a craft, there is little distinction between student and teacher. You will teach your own little ones someday; perhaps even teach a friend."

So long ago, the Dunmer thought. He scooped another handful of snow into his mouth so that his breath would not show in the frigid air.

His small shelter of pine branches was similarly covered in snow, and he had been making use of small heated stones beneath his furs to keep warm, along with his ring enchanted to help resist frost. It did not mean he was comfortable.

He'd been keeping watch over Thirsk for days. Watching and waiting. There was something different about today though. Today the children played with each other once more, and as usual it wasn't nice.

Both Trey; and to a lesser extent, he- when he was around- let them go at it to a certain limit. Whether or not Trey thought it was merely toughening up his son or some for some other reason, he never said.

As far as the Dunmer was concerned, the boy could teach her self-control. She was fire to his ice. Athlain held back too much, and she was far too unrestrained. Perhaps they could balance each other out. At least that was the thinking when it all began.

And now here they met in a 'training' joust. The Dunmer let a smile escape, and said a quiet prayer for Athlain. Athynae certainly didn't need the help. Then again, he'd seen the incredible progress the boy had made since this sojourn began. So, no- he would pray for both.

He watched as the two stared each other down for a moment, almost as if they were taunting each other. No, Athynae was the one doing the taunting; Athlain’s eyes fell to the ground as he gently rocked his mace. He was...sensing.

The weight of the mace.

The grass still wet from snowfall.

Position of the sun, as it reflects off the snow. Avoid this angle.

Breathe slowly but strongly beforehand to increase your stamina.

He scarcely believed that the boy was somehow going through all this in a single breath. Without missing a beat, Athlain returned to the present moment, and let the analysis of the battlefield guide his next move. Mace and blade met in a resounding clang. The sparring had begun.

Once rough, like their handwriting, it was now an elegant script as the two masterfully dashed across their battlefield. He could recognize the moves he had taught to Athynae, with several modifications she added herself, like flourishing to a plain letter. She made it her own and she made it beautiful.

He could also tell that she was in control in every phase of the game. She was baiting him, like a child teases a dog almost. Athlain had taken life, but he had not awakened as a warrior yet, not truly. When he could swing his arm, separate from his heart, that would be his moment and she would be holding a bucket of water- against some very deadly teeth.

And then, after the boy had found himself on the ground again, it changed. He moved in a way the Dunmer had not seen before- not from Athlain. And finally, the swing came. She was willing to risk everything and took the nasty brunt of the mace to the shoulder. Even from this distance, he could hear the impact.

”What now?” the Dunmer whispered to the cold air and to the battered warrior standing over the fallen girl. “Will you attempt to finish it, or will you have the wisdom to see that it is already over, and that a new chapter has begun?”

As Athlain relented and dropped the mace, the watcher knew her plan had worked, and all was calm.

Not Ice in that moment, but Water. Moreover, almost as stubborn as Athynae. Not surprising, given who his parents were. And as she, his Princess, struggled to her feet and brought her friend to the ground in a one-armed tackle, he remembered with a faint smile another day long ago. “I did not say I gave up.”

Satisfied at the scene, he calmed himself and released the tension off the bowstring. The only thing with Ice, he had feared, was that it cracked unpredictably.

Perhaps he too needed to learn to separate his arm from his heart more fully.



The early sun woke me and I stretched to ease the stiffness from the sparring- and from sleeping in a chair. As I moved, something bounced against my chest. I looked down and found myself staring at an arrow, an arrow with a black shaft and an ebony head. A chain entwined the arrow and was draped around my neck. And at the end of the chain was a pendant that looked quite familiar. I had seen Athynae wearing its twin for many years. It was a small amulet in the shape of a hand. The only difference was that hers was formed of white gold- and the one I now wore was as dark as the arrowhead that held my gaze.

“That doesn’t look very safe.”

Ahnya’s amused observation shook me out of my reverie and I blinked, turning my head to look at her. She stood beside the window seat, and not only had she folded her blanket neatly, but she also looked as if she had just risen from a feather bed. Another mystery of women that I would never solve- how they could go through fire, flood, or sleepless night and still look rested, pressed, and cleaned. Some magic that was never taught to men, I suppose. But I ignored all that and responded to her remark.

“No, ‘safe’ is the last word I would use.”

I carefully removed the arrow and set it aside before standing. Trying to appear casual, I asked, “Did you notice anything… ah… unusual last night?”

“You mean besides the fact that Athynae,” she paused and glanced at the bed, “snores louder than you do?”

She started to smile at her own daring, but then frowned as she looked back at her mentor.

“Where did that come from?”

She started to reach a hand toward the parchment wrapped around Dreamer’s hilt, tied in place with a black ribbon. I spoke a single word, a name, and it stopped her faster than a paralysis spell.

“Seth.”

Ahnya’s good cheer disappeared like the sun going behind a cloud. Her head turned as she tried to look everywhere at once, seeking a figure lurking in some corner of the quiet room. I knew how she felt. I had known as soon as I saw the ebony arrowhead aimed at my throat… along with the “gift” that held it in place. A present- and a promise. The black ribbon on the note was just an additional flourish.

Recalling Thyna’s reaction to the last missive from “Uncle Seth,” I waved Ahnya out the door and nearly trod on her heels following her.

“I would suggest that you bring Athynae her tea as usual, and that you then wait, perhaps in the kitchen.” (Or in another province, I thought, but did not say.) “As for me, I will remain here.”

For once, Ahnya followed my instructions. Perhaps I was getting better at the whole “Chieftain of Thirsk” business. More likely, she knew Athynae and her decision was motivated by self-preservation rather than obedience.

A phrase I had sometimes heard crept into my mind, “Shadow hide me.” Unfortunately, this shadow had found me. And the Flame that cast that shadow was about to awaken to an unhappy dawn.

Still, I had a few minutes before the tea arrived. Perhaps I could use that time to my advantage. By… putting on all of my armor, including extra padding? Or building a pillow fort and hiding in it? Or… just running? Except that the last I could never do again- I had promised. Thyna did not know about that promise, but I did. So instead, I sat down and took her uninjured hand in mine and waited.

Though my body was still, my mind was racing as I tried to recall everything I actually knew about Sethyas Velas. Rumor and speculation followed him like a midnight cloak, but what had I seen myself- what was fact, rather than fable? He was a Redoran Councilor, the Grandmaster of the Morag Tong (although said to have retired). And how it was possible he could be simultaneously the former head of the noble guild of assassins and still alive was a question for another day. Besides, those were simply titles- not the mer who held them.

He was one of Father’s few friends, along with Serene and Athyn Sarethi. His visits to our home were rare, but Father- and Mother- always welcomed him, and their pleasure at his company was genuine. He had given me the blade I still carried in a hidden sheath between my shoulders. He had never actually offered or even implied violence toward me, seeming more amused at my discomfort than ominous. And even if I discounted Athynae’s feelings for her mentor, I could not so easily ignore the attitudes of everyone else I trusted and respected. Yes, he was “dangerous,” but we lived in a dangerous place and dangerous times. Who would I rather have at my back in the wilds of Vvardenfell- or Solstheim? A schoolmaster or a premier assassin?

As I considered these ideas, I reached an idle fingertip to rub the small black hand token suspended from its chain around my neck. There was a slight imperfection- no engraving- along each of the digits. Words in miniscule Aldmeris script:

From my hand to yours

The irony inherent in this: A style of alphabet in Calligraphy is called a "Hand".

Well done, Ser Trey...well done.

Oiiiaa! This is great!!!


hehe..is that so? Hilarious...but please DON'T tell her! She'll deny it I promise

So Sethyas you certainly made an impact to all of us... also to our charachters. Now why is that? IMO is must have something to do with the complexity of your personality.

It will be very interesting when Thyna awakes..ohh aye, can't wait to see that.

S.G.M

Ooooh, Now I must read Blackie's fiction! I've been meaning to ever since encountering this most interesting character in minque's story. Besides, I'm partial to men/mer named/nicknamed "Seth" . . .

Love the humor Athlain carries throughout the narrative. It makes me smile, even in the direst of times. His observations are always spot on.

"From my hand to yours." Symbolic, in so many ways! Loved the affirmation of Athalin's personal growth.

Yes, because I had absolutely no problem with working out the way two of you work together...Urgh... ... ...

Whoever did whatever in that first bit with Seth...That was bloody amazing...I absolutely loved that...

That Seth was now giving Athlain some measure of respect while still holding on to the private amusement at his discomfort around the assassin was cool...

As for the 'A'-Team...(See what I did there? )...Love the way Ahnya's growing...



...So true...

Sorry, out of practice with this commenting thing... ...

Absolutely loved that whole piece.

As always, I'm completely in awe of all parties' writing around here...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

@Black Hand- Thanks for allowing us to “borrow” Seth- and even to “revise and extend” him upon occasion. And also for the sketch…. The exact nature of the “token,” as well as the inscription, came late in the process. I had known as far back as putting the Interlude together that Seth would leave (insert McGuffin here) for Athlain and that it would be related to the one Athynae won for herself all those years ago. Then- when I realized the only form the amulet could take, there followed the double- (or possibly triple) pun… a black hand left by the Black Hand. And of course “minuscule” (which I find I misspelled) was a form of writing from the 7th C.

@Serene- First… so glad you are writing once again. It makes this story all the more meaningful to me. And Seth’s complexity (despite what his too-modest author might say) has also been a wonderful gift for us as we weave him in and out of our words and plots.

@haute- You will be glad of the time catching up on Seth’s journals- especially because his own view of himself is so different. And being raised with sisters- not to mention being “best friends” with Athynae- meant Athlain developed gallows humor as a survival skill early in life. I am glad that part of his personality strikes the right note with you- he is more like his father than he knows. And we will see Athlain’s interpretation of that inscription in his next entry…

@McB- I considered providing a brief overview of how that post came about- but I don’t really think anyone much wants to see how the sausage is made and so will refrain. In simplest terms, we always try to give a preview to anyone whose character we “borrow.” Which allows that writer a chance to go “OHHH! What if…?” And after several rounds of that, the balding spell starts to crackle and we all get our heads back down and hammer out a post… The specifics of the Seth POV are- they are Black Hand’s words, with slight dachshund editorializing (because I can’t help myself). And that gave me (and Athlain) a chance to explore why Seth makes him so nervous and to indicate that the assassin has actually never been anything except helpful (occasionally) or aloof (most of the time). “The A-Team” indeed. I think we can nominate Athynae for the “B.A.” role (given wht the initials stand for. Perhaps if they had a “Hannibal” they would manage things a bit better. Hmmm- I can rather see Liam Neeson as Korst Wind-Eye….

Now we will come back to Part 2 of Athynae's narrative of the events on the day following the "Blunder on the Tundra." She will discover that sometimes dreams are much more than dreams- and that may not be a good thing....

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I opened my eyes to a blurry, mottled picture awash with sunlight.

“Please pull the drape; the sun is too bright.”

And I watched as a form that I recognized released the drape from its tether and let it fall to cover the window. Athlain.

I tried to raise myself from the pillow only to be reminded that my right side was not connected to the rest of my body the way it was supposed to be. Athlain was at the bedside in a blink.

“May I help you sit up?”

“You better, because I need my tea. Otherwise I may have to skewer you with this wonderful katana you stole from me.”

“Ah, that familiar biting humor means you aren’t quite dead yet.”

“Would take more than that giant meat tenderizer to do me in, you should know that by now.”

“It did the job I requested of it though; it found your shoulder quite nicely I’d say.” And he propped me up with pillows and reached to the tray for a cup already full of the liquid that I used to kill the beast that I woke with every morning.

My left hand was shaking a tad as I tried to take the cup and I offered no argument when Athlain put it to my lips for a sip.

“My head is still spinning from the poppy.”

“If that is what is making you so agreeable I may have to insist on your having it more often.”

And there it was, a smile that I had not seen since before he left Vvardenfell, a genuine smile that went all the way through his eyes and straight to his heart.

“I miss that.”

“Pardon?”

“Being able to see all the way to your soul.”

There was silence in response, a blank expression. The tea was doing its job and I was gaining some mental clarity as I watched his eyes, scanning memories, some good, some not. Which ones were the good ones? Then the shadow passed over his features, the one I had spent my entire life trying to understand, the one that crossed Mother’s face and Uncle Trey’s, the one that was always in Uncle Seth’s eyes, well, almost always. Father had the same shadow but it only made short appearances and not often. I was beginning to understand.

My gaze drifted and my eyes came to rest on an arrow, black as night and as evil-looking as the bow that it was designed for.

“The arrow? Athlain? Where did it come from? Were you injured?” The foreboding from when Athlain had sent me sprawling in our match came back full force. “Where did it come from?!” I demanded again.

“I was not hurt. And as to the arrow, it was left along with a… ah- gift. I did not see anyone.”

“A gift?” I was confused; I would have liked to be able to blame it on the poppy, but it had nothing to do with hallucinations.

Athlain pulled an amulet from under his tunic, a hand, like the one that I had taken from Uncle Seth during a challenge when I was quite small. Only, although Athlain’s was a perfect replica of mine, it was completely opposite. The one I kept with me always was white gold and a left hand; the one he now wore was ebony, glistening like a black diamond, and was a right hand.
My heart stopped beating as I felt a wave of emptiness wash through me, almost more than l could contain.

“He was here? He did not speak to you?” Then I remembered the dream; how much of that was not a drug-induced hallucination?

“He did not. But he left a note for you.” And he lifted my katana by the baldric, hanging on the bedpost by my head. “He must have taken her from you when he was here, because you were restless and Ahnya placed her in your hand, hoping it would help you sleep.”

The black ribbon around her hilt, the black arrow beside the chair, the amulet Athlain now wore, an amulet that, in Uncle Seth’s mind, bound the two of us together even more than we already were.

“…you do not go alone; you have a warrior at your side.”

His words repeated in my head, something he said or something I conjured, I do not know…and never will.

Athlain started to untie the ribbon and I shook my head and reached for Dreamer with my left hand. He placed the katana across my body so the hilt was at my hand. I wrapped my fingers around the familiar grip, note and all, and squeezed with all the strength I had. I wasn’t ready to read his words, see the familiar script that had, over the years, consoled me, scolded me, taught me, and at times teased me. I needed him right now like I needed air and I knew he was near, but for some reason he did not want to be ‘present’, except of course slipping in while I was drugged, leaving missives and gifts just so I would know he was close. That almost made it worse than thinking he was hundreds of miles away. Why was he watching me from a distance? What was the purpose?

I pulled the ribbon and released the missive and it fell folded to the bed. Athlain reached as if to pick it up and I stopped his hand. I covered it with my own, just as it was and held it, just feeling the familiar parchment that he always used, the texture like the brush of his hand. If I closed my eyes he would be here. NO! He wouldn’t; he was slipping around in shadows, being evasive and secretive- his mark, the skill that he had mastered like no other. He could walk beside you and you would never even know he was there.

I opened the note with the fumbling fingers of one hand.

“You must clear whatever is clouding your thoughts; it is affecting your concentration. You have never allowed yourself to be distracted from the job at hand and now you have set yourself up to face a challenge that most would flee. You cannot afford to let your emotions obscure your vision. Princess, the past months have brought you more understanding than the previous years combined, but you must sort it all and quickly or put it away.

The boy you taught to fight is no more; he has become all that you pushed him toward, even as you cried yourself to sleep because he could not or would not raise his sword against you. He has proven his skill not only to these people, or to you, but he has finally proven to himself that he can cast his own shadow and protect all who stand in it.

The boy is right. You need to work on defense. 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 glad to see 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.

There was no signature; the script itself, along with the ribbon and the parchment, were all that were needed to tell who had penned the note. I folded it shut once more and closed my eyes as the questions flooded my mind.

Which token Uncle Seth? The arrow you had aimed at his heart when we were sparring, or the amulet that you so graciously gifted him with?

When I looked up again, Athlain was watching me from the foot of the bed with his arms braced on the footboard. His knuckles were as white as the snow that falls far too often here and I feared for the wood that his hands were curled round. His face was as blank as I was schooling mine to be. I did not want him to see the uncertainty I felt, or the anger, or the pain both physical and something else far deeper that I had been harboring since the first time Uncle Seth had made his presence known without being present.

“Do you need an explanation regarding the gifts?” I asked, not knowing how I would answer if he did.

“All I know Thyna, is you have worn your amulet since we were children and that Seth gave it to you. As for the other, I don’t know that I would consider it a gift; more a warning, a promise that if I don’t …”

I cut him off. “First of all, Seth did not ‘give’ me the amulet; I took it, in a challenge. He assumed I had given up and proceeded to explain to me why I had lost, but I never said I was done, and so as he explained my mistakes I showed him his and snatched the amulet and completed the challenge. I never gave up. And neither have you, ever, even when I was torturing you like a practice dummy.” The guilt I felt could not be hidden.

“As far as the other, it is the arrow he held, aimed and ready as he watched our match. After you defeated me, I felt the danger but I did not know why; that is why I tackled you instead of just offering my congratulations on the win.”

Athlain looked like a kite that found itself without wind to carry it.

“He gave you the arrow because you stayed your hand; he gave you the arrow because you earned his trust. And his respect.”

Athlain’s grip on the footboard relaxed just a bit, but his face was still clouded. “I will never understand who he is; I will never understand why he does what he does, slinking around and leaving dark gifts and notes instead of just being normal and making his presence known. The one aspect of him that I do understand is why he taught you all that he has, why your skill was the most important gift he could offer. He has taught you not only how to fight, but how to think, how to move, how to feel what you can’t see. And because he taught you all of those skills, I have had the great privilege of learning them from you.”

He really believed that he had learned something from me; what a fool. All I did was show off and beat him; he had to escape my torturous training just to be able to learn. But he had. Learned I mean. He was an officer of the Legion, he was the Chieftain of Thirsk, he had earned it all, on his own. By his own virtue, he was all that his father was and is, but he also was no longer just his father’s son. He was Athlain, and future history lessons would tell his story, how he had done more than his part to right wrongs.

I had to sort and think and pack away thoughts and feelings; I had to heal not only my shattered shoulder but my disorganized mind. “I know I taught you one thing for sure; I taught you stamina. I taught you how to get the scrib jelly beat out of you and keep going. I really would like to be alone now if you don’t mind. I am very tired.”

“I’ll send Svenja to check on you. Do you want something to eat?”

“No, and I don’t need Svenja either.” I didn’t intend it to sound so ferocious, but obviously it did because Athlain flinched.

“Very well. I will leave you to rest.” He turned toward the door and spoke. “Whatever I have done to cause you to be angry with me, I am sorry.” And he was out the door before I could respond.

Fair dues, always amazing...

Even after the poppy she's still proper spiky in a morning isn't she?... ...



Loved that so much...Brilliant stuff...

Trying to work out what Seth wanted while un-drugged would be enough of a challenge, I think...So with the poppy...Ayyyy...No chance... ...

Truly amazing writing...Always a pleasure...

Looking forward to more...As ever... ...

Nice one...

*Applauds heartily*

Hey now! It wasn't aimed at his heart...much.

Actually as Trey pointed out, had he released the arrow, it most likely would have gone just past his ear to make that *snap* to pull him back to reality. I like that version better, and can only imagine the humorous reaction we would have gotten from Athlain.

Athlain looks at black-as-night arrow in tree behind him. "Brynjolfyr.....Forge me a new pair of greaves..."

And make 'em brown!

Loved this bit, really, totally loved it.

First, let me get one teeny, tiny, itty bitty nit out of the way. More a matter of taste, really.
In this context, it reads a little awkwardly. Because this is Thyna's thought, it should read as speech. And I think there should be a period in place of the comma. But he had. Learned, I mean. I think this captures what must be the rhythm of her thoughts better. It's up to you to go with my suggestion or leave it as it is. I think it would be fine either way, just that the period makes it more "speech-like" IMHO.

Okay, on to the fun stuff. Where to begin. I loved this description: I see Athyna as being dark - not evil, not mean or ugly, just dark the way a moonless night is dark - it just is the way she is. And I see Athlain as being the day to her night, even though he has dark thoughts himself at times, and when he was addicted to skooma it was a very black time for him and her arrival was like a shaft of sunlight. Still, on a fundamental level, he is the light, and she is the dark. So she has the white gold hand, and he has the ebon one. It's poetic, in a way. Just as the hands complement each other - left and right working together, they reflect the reality of their relationship - they are each other's yin and yang. And just as the yin has a little bit of the yang in it, and vice versa, so our A-Team has a little bit of each other in themselves.

Ooooh . . .

Backing up a little bit, I loved this bit of dialogue: It really shows us their relationship is founded on mutual respect that withstands all, even their near-constant bickering. In fact, the bickering tells us that the relationship is as strong as always, and that is important to us by this stage of the story. We really care very much about these two, and I, for one, am happy to see them bickering like this again. And that smile of his - it tells me that he is as happy as I!

What can I say that isn't already said? The development of their relation is wonderful... You guys really make this story soooo complex and intriguing. AND the dark shadow of our favourite assassin is always present.. Now THAT is indeed interesting.

Why is HE always lurking in the shadows? Hmmm tickles my mind..

As always this story is so utterly wonderful written, I am truly impessed

@Everyone- My co-author is busy with RL and playing with her new grandson, so response to kind comments will be delayed. However, my follicles are starting to huddle together anxiously, so I thought I should post something. Will ETA the responses when they are in hand.

Everyone, as my co-author said, I have been in the midst of waiting for, welcoming and post arrival spoiling of my first grandson…(My first granddaughter is a year and a half, my son’s child) My daughter, the eldest child, is doing well even though her first son was only an inch and ¾ shorter than her inseam…He is beautifully perfect.

McB -it doesn’t matter what time it is or what she has had, spiky is her disposition the vast majority of the time…it started out as intentional for reasons she may or may not explain later but now it is just a part of who she is. And yes, figuring Seth out is a challenge on the best of days…hallucinogenic drugs did not help. Thank you as always for your wonderful, ever welcome support.

BH – See, Seth is far nicer than you seem to believe…had he advanced on Thyna I am not sure than he would have even shot the arrow, he would have charged from his hiding place and they ALL would have needed new greaves…lol. Thank you, thank you always, I am so glad you are here.

Haute- Perfect…you see exactly what the symbols are representative of, yes she is dark, not evil but she sees the world far differently than he does, although it seems there has been some shifting of that since Athlain left home. They are as much a part of each other as they could possibly be as is apparent in the excerpt, the bickering is just a part of who they are to each other; if they didn’t bicker it would throw the entire relationship into chaos…oh wait, it is always chaos…well you get it and I am happy beyond words that you do. Thank you for being here and reading, it means so much to me.

Minque- Thank you, I’ve said that so many times it seems redundant but were it not for you this would not even be a possibility. Athynae is, I hope beyond hope, all that you envisioned her to be, I do not ever want to stray from that. The intensity is rising so stay tuned…Hugs Mother, I miss you.

Thanks everyone, as always, I so love Athynae and I am happy that you seem to as well. Now, Trey, can I go back to spoiling Mr. Genes please?

Where we are- The A and A team (plus a spare A just to confuse badgers and others) are still at Thirsk, but appear to be going some way towards mending the rift caused by the whole "You stole my sword!" "Why are you so stubborn?" "But we were on a BREAK!" (Sorry- that last is Ross and Rachel from "Friends".) But anyway... And then a mysterious letter for Athynae appeared, along with a mysterious token for Athlain. Both were proof that, visible or not, Sethyas is still somewhere close. We will leave Athynae to sort out what she thinks about all of this and join Athlain in progress. As ever- thank you for reading.
----------------------------------
Notwithstanding that we lived in a frontier district of an untamed province, Mother had insisted on teaching us the “social graces.” The results were… mixed, at best. My sisters tended to use “etiquette” as a weapon suited to whatever mischief they had in mind. It mostly meant making jokes at my expense, in decorous, lady-like tones. However, one of the lessons Mother had drilled into me was, when a gentleman is asked to leave, he bows politely and honors the request. Perhaps I had been spending too much time among the Skaal; I could not quite manage the “bow politely” part, although I did leave.

When Athynae had awakened and begun our old game of verbal jousting, I had hoped things were getting back to normal. Or as close to “normal” as we ever were. But Seth’s black arrow had severed the bond between us once more. That was not his intent; at least I did not believe it was- especially if the inscription on the ebony hand meant what it seemed to. But if his plan was to weld Athynae and me into a stronger team, his technique needed work. He was a superb assassin, but a terrible matchmaker.

My mind stuttered on that thought. Where had it come from? The only people who had attempted any “social engineering” had been my mother and Serene. No- the “From my hand to yours” was probably as much a threat as a sign of respect. A more dire threat than the arrow, in fact:

“I now entrust her to your care. Good luck. You'll need it."

It was all very well for Seth to slip in and leave cryptic tokens and notes (the contents of which I could only guess). But it was up to me to somehow regain Thyna’s trust. Some of her hesitation was my fault; I could have handled Dreamer’s improvements better- probably- I would think of how any century now. But it was also going to be up to her to realize that accepting help was not an admission of failure. I had never been able to understand how the same person who was always first to aid others was also the one who refused to ask anything for herself. That might be the hardest battle she had yet faced, and I could not push her into it.

Everything was falling apart. When I had left home, I wanted to find paths my father’s feet had never touched. I wanted to go somewhere without every tree and stone being a shrine to the deeds of the Nerevarine. I had hoped to find Louis Beauchamp’s airship- which I had- and to bring him the ring he so craved. I wondered if Athynae had accomplished that task, but only for a moment. Of course she had. It was a minor chore that I had saddled her with, but she would have taken it as seriously as a Redoran diplomatic mission. Because she had said she would do it. I wondered what other promises she might have made and to whom. And I worried over what the consequences might be.

There were too many forces pulling me in too many directions. Hircine, Boethiah, the Legion, the Skaal, my missing commander, my irredeemable debt to Athynae. Inevitably, I was reminded of one of Father’s lessons regarding alchemy:

You can have ten processes going all at the same time, but you will be fortunate if only nine of them fail- and if you keep your eyebrows. No doubt you will make something that will go into a vial… but would you want to drink it?

Gods how I missed the comfort of his voice, his wry humor, his calm presence. For just a moment the pain was almost palpable, as if I was missing a part of myself that I could not live without. Still, if I did not have him with me in the flesh, I had access to his wisdom. I could try to juggle all of the kwama eggs- and make a mess- or I could concentrate on what mattered the most- Hircine. If I put paid to him and his Wild Hunt, many of the other problems would resolve themselves. I hoped. Of course, a certain half-elven warrior princess might be thinking similar thoughts- and reaching a similar conclusion. And because “protecting poor stupid Athlain” was an additional item on her list, she would bear watching. But carefully and without being obvious about it.

For the moment, I needed to assume my role as Chieftain of Thirsk. As that consisted of sitting in the chair at the head of the hall, with its carved ravens looking over my shoulders and holding- but not partaking of- a tankard of mead, it was easy enough. It also had the advantage of giving me a view of the stair to the upper rooms and the exits from the hall. Thyna could always go out the window if she wanted to, but that was not her way.

The monster’s heart mounted on the pedestal to one side of the throne was a grisly reminder of why I needed to be seen taking my place as Chieftain. The hunters of Thirsk had been buffeted by nearly as many shocks as I, and had less understanding of the reasons. It was time for me to lead. Carbo had told me the “great secret” of leadership when I had been promoted to the rank of Agent.

It’s less about what an officer does than how he looks while doing it. If you can just stand there and look confident, or at least thoughtful, the troops will figure you’ve got it all planned out. And they’ll respond to that. Most of the time, the spear-pushers are just as happy not to know all the details- provided they believe their officers do.

So that was what I did. I looked out over the gathering like a benevolent uncle, even managing a convincing half-smile at yet another rendition of Athlain the Bold. That foray into “song” was followed by a drinking contest, for which I was drafted as the judge. The judging was simple enough- I merely had to indicate who passed out first, while also making sure that none of the contestants “cheated” by pouring the mead into their beards instead of their mouths. A couple of particularly lush-whiskered individuals could have stored the better part of a keg in their facial growth if they had been so inclined.

It was some time later that I realized that somewhere along the way, as I pretended I was not burdened by cares and worries, it had stopped being pretense. I was actually laughing at the outrageous stories and even giving voice to a few of my own, drawn from my early adventures with Athynae. Svenja moved through the hall and her expression was one of complete happiness. Her vision of a rebuilt Thirsk was realized and she reveled in it. I took pleasure in that even as I reminded myself to not get too carried away.

Congratulating myself for leading a bunch of Nords to drink and carouse would be like taking credit for teaching fish to swim.



Leave-taking was never something I had enjoyed. Perhaps that was one reason I had left home in the middle of the night, intent upon…. I was no longer certain myself. It had seemed important at the time, but now I had a feeling it had been more a matter of childish discontent. My only hope was that if the story were ever told, the scribe would gloss over that part of it.

Leaving Thirsk, however, was another matter, and not only for me. At some point during the preparations I met Svenja’s eyes and knew we were both remembering what had happened while I had been away, completing the last of Tharsten Heart-Fang’s tests. Although the mead hall had been rebuilt, the empty places on the benches were fresh wounds in our hearts. I went to her and spoke in a low voice:

“The beast is dead, Svenja Snow-Song, thanks to you as much as anyone.”

She nodded once, but then a thought came to her and she replied in a doubtful tone, “Yes. But it came from somewhere.”

I understood that she did not mean the ice cave on the shore of the lake where the beast had laired.

“Perhaps so. But that is not your worry. I need you here, as my second. There is no one better.”

Reassuring my second was easy- she had years of hunting behind her, and understood the necessities of duty. But Ahnya…. I saw that the girl was in a quiet but animated discussion with Thyna, and so I left them to it. I would have words of my own for Ahnya, but they could wait. Brynjolfr saluted me with his pipe from a place by the fire, so I took a seat next to the smith. Neither of us spoke; the quiet in the midst of the mead hall was eloquent enough. Before long, Athynae stalked over and declared,

“Here I am, ready to go, and you are lurking by the fire.”

She folded her arms and tapped a foot, but there was hint of humor in her eyes. That welcome sight prevented me from pointing out that most of the morning had passed while she had “just a few words” with almost every person at Thirsk. I even suspected some of them had “gone through the line” more than once. And that was in addition to her having been ensconced with Bryn for the better part of the previous day. She refused to say what she had been doing, and the sea was more likely than the smith to betray a confidence.

Meanwhile, her foot was still tapping and her eyebrow was beginning to rise, so I got to my feet and replied, “Then I am also ready, as soon as I speak to Ahnya. Where is she?”

“Back in the kitchen- I think she wanted to bake another 50 or 100 loaves of bread for us to take.”

However, when I got to the kitchen, even though flour dusted almost every surface, Ahnya was not baking. She was seated on a stool, contemplating her bow where it leaned against the wall and idly twisting the thumb ring on her right hand. She was so deep in thought that she did not hear me, so I took the opportunity to just watch. The girl shifted her gaze from the bow to her pallet by the fire and then to the outer door. I could read her thoughts as clearly as if they were printed on a page. She was trying to make a decision, one that she did not need to make.

I spoke from the doorway, “Your place is here. No one questions your loyalty or your courage.”

She did not look at me, but stared intently at the surface of the ring. “But… I am Athynae’s second. What if she needs me? She said not, but… maybe she was just trying to protect me.”

“Yes. She was. That is her responsibility, as it is mine. But we do need something else from you. We need you at Thirsk, learning to be a hunter. You are Thyna’s hope for a better future. She is counting on you to achieve your full potential. Just as I depend on Svenja to maintain Thirsk in my absence, Athynae depends on you to continue as you began. Sometimes, the bravest warriors are those who stay behind, who make sure there is something to come back to. That is your burden, Ahnya. I know you will bear it with strength and poise.”

My speech was not spoiled in the least when the sole member of the audience threw her arms around my neck and whispered, “So I shall. But you… you must bring her back to us.”

After that, it was just a matter of gathering up my pack, settling the Gift in its loop on my belt, and turning north.

The clear, cold air was welcome after the smoky closeness of the mead hall. I knew we would be spending at least one night under the stars and the idea made me nervous. We were setting our feet on a path to track the Lord of the Wild Hunt, a daedric prince who could command and compel the beasts of this island. I was reminded of a story told by an old Urshilaku Ashlander hunter, about how he had trailed an alit for half a day, only to realize that the beast was also stalking him. He still had the scars to show the truth of the story, but at least he had lived to tell it. I hoped we would be able to do the same.

Brilliant!!...



I think that's one of my favourite lines in any of the fan-fics ever!... ...

I love the way that this episode covers much in a very short space of time...There could have been so much milage in the preparation to go off on the hunt for the Hunter (see what I did there? ), the feast, for one, would have been an excellent chapter in itself, I think!... ...So that you've decided to Just Get On With It™ is brilliant!...

Love the quiet word with the seconds bit too...Brilliant stuff...

Absolutely love this story...Long may it continue!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Just a lovely installment in the A&A saga that is Blood On the Moon!

I know of which you speak! There are a couple of guys where I work with the same characteristic! It doesn't hurt that the boys have a beard contest every November! These two guys just keep it going year 'round!

What a wonderful way to show us that some time had passed between the two parts of this episode!

Athlain's interchange with Ahnya is as delightful as ever!

I'm going to mimic McB here: *applauds heartily*

Totally read this first.

But it deserves a long and drawn-out review.

Athlain's perspective on many things seems to draw out a wistful take on these events.

I see a little pour-over here from personal revelations on the Author's part into the Character's feelings. This is natural, and universal. Our characters are these...imaginary friends. Forged from our imagination, the ore is our experiences. We put ourselves into them, because we can't make them any other way.

Immaterial, they are nonetheless very real. Perhaps they don't have a physical body, but their personalities are hosted by this strange system of biochemical responses that is our brain. Neuroplasticity lends itself to being a physical manifestation of our thoughts and our choices. When you change your mind, you literally change the structure of your brain, and it's neural pathways.

Quite literally, we are what we think, and what we choose to be.

Athlain is running out of other's wisdoms here. He is now beginning to look to himself more and more. It's a stark and lonely transition to become one's self. One that he knows is necessary and does not shy away from nonetheless.

In this, I see his courage.

I had to pull this quote out as one of many instances where the beauty of a phrase might stop me in awe but my affection for the characters and delight in the story just keep carrying me along. *blissful sigh*

Seth’s part was the perfect blend of heart, mind, and scary. Good grief, that arrow!


*Grits melts completely*

Ooo, congratulations on the birth of your grandson, Athynae!

Oh my, I loved Athlain’s interpretations of Seth’s cryptic message(s). His inscrutability continues!


Yeah, good luck with that.


What a quietly beautiful expression.

I was especially touched by the nature of Athlain’s thoughts of Trey as well as the timing right before he and Thyna take on Hircine.




So... I'm caught up. Um, ready for some more.

So right on spot! made me smile!!!

So they are off now our A/A-team....well well what they will encounter is still dwelt in the shadows..hmmm I guess there are more dwelt things/persons in those shadows....

Athynae's personality is actually very interesting..I wonder who she inherited that from? is it her dunmer blood or is it the imperial-nordic heritage that now appears in full bloom?

Who knows?

S.G.M

@McBadgere- That was one of those lines that just kinda showed up in my head- plus the fact that I love to tease our Nordish forumites when I can…

Because I have several “what happened next” pieces already at some stage of being written, I rather did want to finally get the two OUT of Thirsk and onto the path once more. And Athlain learned more from his various mentors (his father not least), than he realizes.

@haute- I have to admit to a bit of… literary theft… in the “full beard” department. My folks had a copy of “Up Front,” a collection of Bill Mauldin’s G.I. cartoons from WWII. There is one in which either Joe or Willie is guzzling from a canteen and the other says- “That’s enough! I see you soaking yer beard full.”

You know, I very much have a feeling Ahnya’s story is one that is going to be told at some point- she has certainly earned it.

@Black Hand- No question that Athlain is the child of my imagination- as well as of my own experiences. But the wonderful thing about writing has been letting him find his own way. Because of that, he is a more fully realized character than his (electronic) father. That he is also a better person than his creator- goes without saying.

@Grits- Thank you for highlighting two places where I allowed the poetry of Athlain’s soul to come through. Because you use words so wonderfully, and paint such vivid pictures with them… praise of my efforts means a great deal to me.

And Seth is just so wonderfully complex and his place in Athlain’s “pantheon” is equally so, which means I can have fun with him in my story…

Part of my plan (such as it was- and “plan” is a misnomer) was that the “Journey of Discovery” part of the story would include learning more about his father and his relationship with him.

@minque- Many trials await the children (I guess I should not call them so- but to their parents, that is what they will always be)… But I think they are beginning to see the value of trusting one another- which was at least part of Seth’s intention. And I think our Dunmer assassin also rather feels “what is the point of having a reputation for being mysterious if I don’t get to USE it every now and then?” As to Athynae… she started with you. Without Serene, there would be no Athynae. Since then- well, she has become very much the product of her heritage and her honor.

Where we are: The next several posts will be a bit of a "step back in time," though only a short distance. We will listen in on Athynae's thoughts about all that has happened, since the Battle of the Broken Shoulder. She will also consider what Seth meant and what she should do about it. She is recovering from the injury sustained in the match, but also from the knowledge that Sethyas was present but did not choose to speak directly to her. Beyond that, her thinking has been jarred into a new path regarding Athlain's ability as a warrior. So- here, at last is Athynae...

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

I watched his back, rigid with hurt, as he disappeared through the door and pulled it closed behind him. I had done it again; for some reason it was my lot to forever say the wrong words or use the wrong tone or…dammit all! I don’t care, I don’t. If he hasn’t figured out by now that there are times when I just need to be left alone then he’ll spend a lot more time with hurt feelings before this relationship, whatever it is, comes to a close.

As soon as my brain completed that thought my heart felt as if a great ice bear had wrapped a giant paw around it and squeezed. This will never be over; I can never stop. He has become a warrior, an officer, a chieftain, and many other things that I have not been made aware of as yet, I’m sure, but I swore an oath to Azura that I would protect him; that his life, his heart continuing to beat, was my life’s mission and I have no intention of walking away from that, especially now.

My eyes caught the note and sent my mind off on another course…

Uncle Seth, what is this game? Why are you watching from afar and letting me know you are there with these cryptic notes instead of just revealing your presence? I do not understand what I have done to hold you distant, to keep you away. Whatever this feeling is, I have felt it before, like I’m being pushed away even as something is holding me close. I felt the same way with Mother before I left this last time; she was holding on so tight and pushing so hard. You are doing the opposite in a way; pushing me away by making me angry but holding on by watching over me AND letting me know that you are.


The tears were flowing but no answers came with them. No answers. No answers. “I wish the drapes were open.” I spoke to no one, but I wanted to see the sky; I wanted to see the clouds moving because I needed to know that everything was still going forward, time was not at a stand still just because I felt like I had been stopped.

“Thyna,” the whisper came before the knock; it was Ahnya of course. “May I come in please?”

“Yes.” Modulated voice that I was never good at, but she entered anyway, so I must have done it right- or else her determination was greater than her anxiety.

She held a tray covered with vials and bowls and bread before her almost like a shield; it was so laden that there wasn’t enough room left for a drop of water to rest comfortably.

“Svenja said to bring it all and let you decide what you wanted and so I did.”

She placed the tray on the table by the bed. “There’s a couple of different healing potions; she said you’d know the difference; a stamina potion, and a sleep potion just in case.” And she rolled her eyes; she was already getting to know me far better than most of the people back home. “The stew is one of her concoctions, a recipe she originally got from your mother she said, but she had to change it a tad because some of the ingredients were too difficult to find here…”
As she continued to talk she opened the drapes and I couldn’t hear her anymore; I was lost watching the clouds move and being comforted by the idea that, no matter what fog obscured my mind, the clouds in the sky were moving, which meant I needed to be also.

“I’m going back to the kitchen to help them clean up. Do you need anything else?” She didn’t even notice that I wasn’t paying attention; I wondered if she had said something I needed to hear.

“I’m fine. This should be all I need. Is Athlain in his room?”

“No, he’s in the hall. Everyone is celebrating his victory.” Her face drained of color. “I’m sorry, I …they, I mean, well…Thyna, I don’t know what to say.”

“You spoke the truth; you needn’t say anything. He did win and they should be celebrating their chieftain’s success. I am more proud of him than any of them could ever know. As soon as I am back together I will be down to celebrate with them.”

“There are aspects of you that I will never understand.” And as she departed she was shaking her head, but somewhere inside she knew what I meant, even if she didn’t see it clearly yet.

I took the strongest of the healing potions first and as it found its path, I spoke the spell to heal myself; the two kinds of healing adding strength to each other. And I had to put my hand over my mouth to hold in the sound as the burning began, concentrating on the mending as much as I could, ensuring that the right muscle connected to the right tendon and the nerves weren’t misdirected. That was all I needed- to tell my fingers to clench and feel my toes making a "victory sign."

Healing was a painful process under normal circumstances without potions and spells, but with them it was all the same pain just crammed into minutes and hours rather than being spread out over the course of weeks or months that it would take otherwise. Once I was sure that the right pieces and parts were connected to their respective places I had tolerated about as much as I could and I actually opted for the sleeping draught because I knew that Svenja’s mixture would knock me into the Aether for at least a few hours while the rest of this process finished itself.

Once I get off this horrid island I hope I never have to deal with pain like this again. The worst pain I had ever felt before I got there was when Rah was trying to wield a katana in each hand and as I walked into his room to see what all the racket was he was standing on a chair, Azura only knows why; swung one of the blades, lost his balance, and before I could spin, he put the other blade all the way through my foot into the floor about two inches. Between the momentum of the swing, the weight of the blade, and the distance he fell before contact; on top of the fact that I had sharpened them for him like an idiot, the blade barely missed turning my foot into a guar hoof. Have I ever mentioned what a wonderful healer my mother is?

I woke myself speaking, “Defense, work on defense.” And I realized I held the note in my hand like it was the totem of life. He had said, “You need to work on your defense.” For some reason I couldn’t shake the thought that he meant something different than defending with weapons.

I threw the covers back and flexed my arm; it was stiff and sore but otherwise seemed to be working properly. I put my feet on the floor and realized everything was a bit touchy, like I hadn’t used it in a year, but I had no time to waste. We had dallied long enough and I needed to see Bryn.

Dressing proved a bit challenging, but making everything move was the only way to make sure everything would move. Putting my leathers on wasn’t quite as difficult, so the potion and the spell were still in process. Just the same I was happy for the guidance of the “Armor Song” I had made up when I got my first set of leathers. It was a memory aid for which piece went where and how they attached to each other. Considering the potions I had taken, I needed the reminder. As I finished I wondered if Athlain recalled the bloody nose I had given him when he laughed at me the first time he heard the song. Of course, I could not imagine how he got into the 200 pounds of scrap metal he clanked around in without the use of a block and tackle, along with a team of Orsimer laborers.

Once Dreamer was in place I knew all would be back to normal soon. I departed down the back stairs and out through the kitchen. Svenja called out so I stopped. Her posture as she approached looked a bit stiff but her expression questioned without words, so I answered. “Not totally perfect yet, but well on the way.” I tried to reassure her as much with my words as my tone.

She reached out to feel my shoulder, and I allowed the inspection more to ease her mind so she would leave me alone than anything. “There is still swelling behind your shoulder blade and your elbow is quite warm.”

“The spell and the potion are still working; it’s fine. I’m not going to fight a draugr just yet. I was on my way to see Bryn.”

“Ah well, he just headed back to the forge a little while ago. What do…” she paused with a look like she had realized something was wrong. “ Never mind, I shouldn’t be so nosey.”

Interesting. I didn’t know what to tell her but it didn’t anger me that she asked or tried to, so I responded. “I just want to ask him some questions about my armor.”

A new expression crossed her features, something with a touch of shock. “Are you sure you’re well?” She reached to feel my head.

“I’m fine. You weren’t being nosey; you were showing your concern.” I left her standing with her mouth open. I had somehow addled her just a tad, I think. Sorry Svenja, I’m really not as bad as I have made you all think.

There was a moment of disorientation as I wondered whether I had behaved so poorly that everyone thought I was self absorbed to the point that they could not speak openly with me, especially people I had known most of my life. What was it that I had done that was so horrid that everyone seemed to walk on eggshells and guard every word in my presence? My mind whirled round and round; I hadn’t done anything other than focus, focus on my weapons skills and my healing skills, both in an effort to keep my oath to Azura. My fingers found the note in my pocket, and I could almost feel the ink on the familiar parchment. I closed my eyes and for a moment felt him there. Uncle Seth. That’s what most of this discombobulation was. And the only remedy was to focus on the task at hand. You need to work on your defense. Fine.

You do, huh??

Oh Athynae....sweet girl, of course you're not bad, not at all! You will be just fine...

So wonderful to read this, I've been checking daily for updates and there is was..just now YAY!

Thyna is an intelligent young lady, she has the inner understanding of things beyond our comprehension. She made this promise to Azura and she will keep it. Her mother kept her promise so...

It's such a joy to read this story, it totally made my day today

Now the journey begins, may the two walk on warm sands...

I was just getting starved for some A&A! How wonderful to open this forum this morning and see an update here!

Of course I loved Athynae's musings as she healed herself and returned to some semblance of function.

The description of healing stands out for me, of course. And I loved the little memory of her brother Rah trying to wield two katanas! Julian (who still reads these things over my shoulder) actually snickered at that one! She would know how hard it is to use two swords without cutting oneself up!

Oh, and when are we going to hear the Armor Song? I want to learn it! And this: just made me laugh out loud at the visual imagery these words conjured!

Oh! The "F" word! What a way to end this chapter!

YESSSS hautie JUST the quote I laughed at when I read it

hilarious...just brilliant, I can see it just see it

So much of amazing contained therein...Hells yes!!...

While I know why it's taken so long for there to be more...WHY THE HELL HAS IT TAKE SO LONG FOR THERE TO BE MORE?!!... ...

I know...Don't shout at me?...Or...The not shouting thing...Don't do that... ...

I scared now... ...

Aaamywho...

Proper loved the whole thing...The healing, Ahnya, after Athynae got up and was talking to Svenja...So much of excellence...Properly...



Um...*Looks at watch*...Oh my...Is that the time?...*Walks away quickly*...

Absolutely loved this episode...Brilliant stuff...

Nice one!...

*Applauds heartily*...

What a marvelous exchange. I particularly loved the last paragraph with Athynae’s introspection. She’s figured out that it’s very possible to do everything right and still alienate the people who love you. Of course she’s being too hard on herself, but realizing the possibility is another step in her journey. Wonderful stuff!

Editor's note- Comment response will follow when I get them. Some people apparently have to work and spoil their grandchildren...

In the meanwhile, here is the next part from Athynae's perspective.

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


I opened the door to the forge and the smell of hot iron and charcoal comforted and reassured me. “Bryn, are you here?”

“Is that ye lass?” He appeared from the back room. “And how are ye feelin? Yer lookin’ a might better than day before yesterday.”

“Seriously? I’ve been out for two days? I hate this place. Nothing happens as it should, and everything that does happen slows everything else down and then just when you think you can move forward, you run into a giant meat tenderizer and it puts you out for two days.”

“Ye didn’t run inta it lass, it ran inta ye, and with more force than I think ye e’er thought he could muster.”

“It’s weird Bryn. I always knew he could; I always knew he had the strength and the skill. I guess that’s why I never gave up. And if this is my payback for that then so be it. I’m happy to know that I was right.”

“Are ye e’er wrong, lass?” And he grinned that grin, the one he ribbed me with.

“Nope. I thought I was once but I was mistaken.” And I raised an eyebrow.

His laugh rattled the tools on the walls. “Aye, yer doin better. So what did ye come see me for? Aren’t there others more important ta see?” I knew he meant Athlain and I would see him soon, but this needed to be done first so Bryn could finish the work. Then spending time with the people of the hall and Athlain before we departed wouldn’t seem so much like a waste of time.

“I’ll see him. It seems to me I’ll be spending plenty of time with him soon enough, so seeing you first is more important. I know that my leather armor is not the most protective, and Athlain pulverizing my shoulder was the proof in the pudding. But I like my leathers. I can move well in them, and I don’t want something that will be cumbersome and heavy and make me sound like a smithy’s forge every step. So, I need your help. I want to… reinforce certain areas; I want to make sure my hands are more protected; I want to make the leather harder to breach; and I also want places like my shoulders and legs to be safer. Is there a way to do that and not add a tremendous amount of weight and keep it quiet? I also don’t want it to be visible.”

Bryn’s eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline and he was scratching his head with one hand and pulling his beard with the other. “Well, if ye had ne’er challenged me afore, ye definitely are now. Come back to the supply room and bring yer magic with ye cuz if we’re ta do all that it’s goin’ ta take all ye got, all I got and we may have to hire out for more… But I love a good challenge I do, and I also want to keep my favorite lass safe, so off we go. I’ll not ask if ye wish fer a shield.”

“A what? Um, no I do not wish to wander through the wilderness with a serving platter attached to my arm, thank you.”

“Ye may find yerself on one be ye not more careful next time.” Bryn accentuated the statement with lift of a bushy eyebrow.

“I don’t want to clink and clank every step I take. And as far as that goes he did what he was trained to do. What makes you think I didn’t leave that opening on purpose to see if he would take it?” And I put on the best ‘don’t question me’ face I could muster. The mere idea planted a doubt in his head and his eyebrows did their dance up his forehead and into his hair. That’s all I needed, for him to think it was a possibility that I might have done it on purpose. Who knows, maybe I did. Sometimes his eyebrows made me think of giant caterpillars creeping up a tree.

“Well?” I had to push it just a tad, didn’t I?

Bryn folded his enormous arms “If ye tell me that’s the way of it lass, I will trust ye.” I had spoken all that I was going to and I was going to trust that the insinuation was enough.

“I want my same leathers, I just want them… improved.” Time to change the subject back to its original context.

“And ye dinna wish ta clank?”

“I don’t want to add a lot of weight either, especially with everything that’s happened. I don’t have a lot of time for strength training to be able to carry a hundred extra pounds.” I wasn’t sure I had the stamina to endure carrying any more weight at all, but I also had to work on my defense. This was the first step in that direction since I was now well aware that blocking every blow was a fairy tale and I also knew that the blows that made contact were not just going to mark a tunic.

Bryn reached out his hand and took mine. “Let’s see what ye have naow.” And he rolled my hand in his as I replied,

“Just straight leathers, nothing special…except…” As he recognized the special hand guards I had designed because Athlain was so adept at smacking my knuckles, he looked intrigued.

“But what about these?”

“They are special mostly because I designed and made them myself, but they need to be better. They cover my hands but leave my fingers free.” The leather covered the backs of my fingers and was held in place by straps on the inside without interfering with my fingertips or my grip.

He leaned closer, his eyes alight with interest. “May I see?” When I nodded, he removed the guard from my hand. “Clever, lass, very clever.”

As he worked out the construction of the guard, I continued to state the requirements. “I think I need my fingers covered but they have to be as mobile as if they were bare.” Bryn picked up a piece of charcoal and began drawing on the wall as I thought out loud, “Otherwise I can’t use all of the weapons I have to their best advantage.” My focus came back to the marks he was making and I said, “You do know, hundreds of years from now, someone will look at those and wonder about the child that drew them?” My stab of humor went completely unnoticed, which was probably a good thing.

Bryn was drawing and talking about a chain gauntlet and completely ignoring my protests concerning the weight and the mobility and every other problem I could think of concerning his use of chain anything.

He finally looked up at me with one of the sternest expressions I had ever gotten from him, “Look ye, it would be like a mesh glove, Nordic silver.”

I cut him off, “I don’t want it to be noticeable either.”

“But only the backs of your hands,” he was still not paying me much mind; his temporary distraction was mostly because of my increase in volume I think. “Then we cover it with leather.” And that was that. “And wi’ the silver under and at the tips, they will appear to be a pair o’ gauntlets, mobile as you could wish.”

“But these aren’t gauntlets! They are leather hand covers!” I don’t know why I was so adamant that my leathers appear the same but it had to be, nothing less would do. If anyone knew I had my leather armor enhanced, reinforced- then all the years I had spent pitching fits about any other kind of armor meant nothing.

I would never tell anyone, but Bryn gave me a lesson in stubborn that day. We were talking about my armor, but we were in his territory, and he was as determined as any tyrant in history.

“Ye’ll no find anything as strong or as light as Nordic silver, exceptin’ maybe glass.”

And he shrugged his shoulders, which made him look like a turtle trying to disappear into its shell.

I shook my head in response, “Oh no!”

“An’ that would be noticeable.”

“Then silver it is.”

“Not just any silver lass, Nordic silver.” He made it sound like an ancient priceless piece that should be guarded instead of used as a guard. “I dinna hae any glass anyhow.”

“That’s good; it’s stupid anyway.”

“Oh?”

“I would sound like a room full of drunks clinking their goblets together.”

“Hae ye ne’er seen yon laddie’s father’s suit of armor?” Bryn was mocking me in good humor.

“I have seen it, many times.” My particularities are my own, and my reasons are as well. There were many great warriors that had worn all kinds of different armor and I was well aware, but for me the only armor I wanted was mine.

“As I recall he was known as a Master Thief….”And the tell-tale eyebrows rose in challenge.

I crossed my arms, tilted my head and snarled a bit maybe. “So? I don’t like it; it’s stiff and cumbersome.” I might have even emphasized my comment with a “hhmmph,” but I don’t recall.

He nodded sagely. “Oh, I see. Tha’s all the difference then, lass. And ‘sides, I dinna hae any of it.” Bryn knew me and this entire conversation was just to make sure I wasn’t in some dark space in my head. He wanted to make sure I was able to have a verbal sparring match with him even if it was just to humor him.

“It’ll be thin sheets o’ silver then, with leather backing and a bit more silver in the tips.” His expression had changed to the one that said “time for work” and I could see the cogs turning behind his eyes.

“If you put it in the tips I won’t be able to feel through it, I won’t be able to use my darts and stars.”

As I was speaking he was rummaging through his chests and I heard him mumble something about having a pair of leather gloves my size somewhere… He pulled a pair out, quickly turned them inside out and walked toward the workbench. Watching him work always mesmerized me; it was as if he was in his own great bubble and nothing could distract him from the task at hand. I don’t know how long it took but it seemed almost instantaneous and he turned and handed me the pair of gloves.

“Try these lass.”

“Bryn, you do know I want this done to my armor, right?”

“I’d challenge Talos Himself afore I’d experiment with yer own armor lest I make a hole where one needn’t be.”

“Just making sure and no, I don’t want any holes where they needn’t be.” He had never made a miscalculation that I was aware of, but he still never took the chance.

I slipped the glove onto my hand. “It feels weird.” It felt like someone had put thimbles into the fingers of the glove. Bryn began to flop my hand over, studying, marking the leather, pulling and twisting and mumbling to himself all the while. “That is still attached to my arm,” I reminded him. He ignored me and removed the glove and started back toward the bench.

“Isn’t there something I can do besides just sit here and wait? I don’t sit and wait very well.”

“And can ye wield a hammer wi’ tha’ damaged shoulder a yers?” He tossed back without turning to look.

“I can use one hand as well as the other. You know that.” And he did; he had watched me practicing when I was younger. Every move with any weapon was practiced first with one and then with the other until both were equally proficient.

“Aye, but can ye do it wi’oot Svenja comin’ down on me like the Fury of Azura?”

“I kind of left her standing with her chin on the ground; I don’t believe she’ll be bothering me for a while.”

“I dinna think I’ll ask.” Now he turned to look at me.

“I don’t know what it was. I was just trying to be nice and she acted as if I needed a potion for brain fever and tried to feel my head.”

“And are ye fevered? If’n ye had a fit o’ nice she probably figured it had to hae a fever to go wi’ it.” He successfully ducked under the small piece of silver he’d left on the table beside me that I hurled past his ear- with my good arm. “Nae, the lass is o’er the fit. I’ll be sure to tell her that ye be’n’t fevered.” And a rare deep rumble of laughter escaped his chest as he went back to his bench.

We spent the rest of the day working, designing, enchanting and arguing about what he could and couldn’t do. In the end I was chased from the forge by the giant bear, waving his hammer. I am almost certain he wouldn’t really have used it on me. He grumbled, “I’m tellin’ ye lass, if ye don’t go away and let me do what I can the way I know how, this is ne’er gonna be done. Go join the festivities, celebrate yer loss and be happy aboot it. Shoo, go…don’t ye trust me to do what needs done?”

“Fine, I’ll go, but if you …” Threats weren’t the way to go with Brynjolfr; what was I thinking? “I mean, yes, Bryn, I trust you; you have never failed at any task I have presented and I have no reason to think that you will this time.” I departed with trepidation, not because I didn’t trust him, but because I didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

Fair dues... ...I like a good bit 'o' smithing talk...The whole discussion of how to improve/strengthen her armour while doing nothing to change it was excellent... ...

Bryn was excellent...Athynae was excellent!!...

Thoroughly enjoyed the whole thing!....



...

Proper amazing writing...Always...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Love the exchange between Bryn and Thyna here. It really shows the depth of their relationship and how strongly he feels about this not-so-frail Dunmer lass! And I'm glad to see her taking Seth's advice to work on her defense more seriously!

This: is my favorite part of the whole thing - 'Thyna's attitude about shields and Bryn's response are wonderful here. Add to that Bryn's use of a certain mannerism also used by a certain *ahm* Redguard pilus just adds to the delight here.

SGM!

They said it all! I could repeat what McBadgere and hautie said but I won't!

this is fan fic at its best! Love it!

S.G.M

No, not new story- at least not yet. But these responses from Athynae deserve their own post, so....

First of all thank you for tolerating yet another round of RL, couple of surgeries, birth of first grandson, complications with second surgery and now allergic reaction to something at work...and the beat goes on...but being able to see the words from all of you has been great medicine so I truly appreciate the time you put in to read.

@Minque- as ever you are my inspiration, without you Thyna would not even be here. It is a grand feeling to know that she continues to have your support. Your words are always a treat. Thanks Mother.

@Haute- I have to say I had inspiration on the healing musings from *something* I read somewhere a while back and it hit home...every time something is said about 'magical' healing I think about that and sort of become mesmerized by the process...so thank you for that. Also thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts, they are treasured words. As are the other words I now have to read...in my spare time.

@McB- What to say to my dear friend that hasn't already been said???? It is my mission to make you laugh...well not just you but I'm am elated that you find the warrior princess funny. (She reminds me at times of a teenage girl I know, hhhmmm? I could be talking about yours or mine) Thanks furry burrow dweller, I am ever in your debt.

@Grits- Yes, she is too hard on herself, she has always been too hard on herself, just her make-up, it certainly isn't because anyone was too hard on her. She took on the mantle at a young age for reasons that may come to light here or in the Princess thread. She was born with her own agenda and will not stray from it. We shall see where it goes from here and I am so happy you are making the journey with us.

Thanks everyone, very much, for your loyalty, even as I have dropped the ball in reading and keeping up with your wonderful stories. I will catch up, I will, it just might take a while. I do love all of your stories so much.

Bryn’s eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline and he was scratching his head with one hand and pulling his beard with the other.

No wonder after that list of demands! But of course that’s exactly what she needs, and of course Bryn will reach new heights in his craft while doing it. How very Athynae.

This whole section was pure enjoyment to read.

Life is sometimes hectic Trey. Just glad to hear you checking in, even if it isn't to update your story.

And now we do have new story. We will pick back up with Athynae soon, but for now, Athlain has taken up the stylus once again. The two have taken their leave of Thirsk, going to the Skaal village to learn what the Bloodmoon Prophecy has in store for them. Although they are united by their purpose, the youngsters still need to learn what it means to be a team. That... may take a while. As ever, thank you so much for reading and for responding.

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It felt good to be moving once more, even if we were uncertain what we were moving toward, and even though we traveled in silence, broken only by the crunch of snow and the rasp of our breathing in the chill air. Athynae was at once withdrawn and vigilant, her eyes moving from rock to tree to drift of snow in an endless circuit. I held my words, not asking whether she was looking for Hircine’s pack or for someone more capable of wounding her heart.

We would be spending one night in the open, so I could not fault her caution, regardless of the true reason for it. I had been so caught up in various concerns that I had forgotten what darkness meant for Thyna- the night-blindness that had afflicted her since she was cured of lycanthropy. She reminded me of it, indirectly, when we made camp.

“Put this on,” she said, holding out a vial.

We had both spent part of our time at Thirsk compounding potions; for the daughter of a healer and the son of an alchemist, such was as natural as breathing. But this bottle did not look familiar, so I hesitated.

“What is it?”

She rolled her eyes at my suspicion and growled, “Just dab a little of the mixture on your neck and arms.”

I could not help but recall another time she had asked me to put on one of her homemade recipes- one designed to attract cliff racers, which tend to feed on carrion. So, even though I took the vial from her outstretched hand, I asked again,

“I understand how it is to be used- what I want to know is what IS it?”

“A mixture of bittergreen and lavender.”

I removed the stopper and gave it a cautions sniff. “If I put this on, I am going to smell like one of Des…” I stopped before I completed the thought, but Athynae still raised an eyebrow. Just the same, there was no need for me to mention anything about Desele’s House of Earthly Delights in Suran- or how I might have any idea what the… ah… employees… smelled like. Besides, it was just a phrase I had heard Father use to refer to some of the more pungent flowers in Mother’s garden.

Whatever Athynae thought of my momentary lapse, she kept it to herself, instead providing an explanation: “It will help me find you in the dark. In case we are attacked.”

That ended the conversation, and we both passed the darkness wrapped in our own thoughts. However, I did make sure to apply the fragrant potion just as she had asked. Fortunately, it was not necessary, as the night passed without incident. But the aroma of bittergreen comforted me in some indefinable way.



The smoke of the Skaal village and then the shapes of the houses came into view and I hoped Korst Wind-Eye would have answers for us. I also had other concerns, beyond the whole “confronting a possibly immortal Daedric prince” aspect of what we were doing. Well, one concern in particular. I rather hoped young Ingmar would be off wrestling snow-bears- or whatever it was he did for entertainment- besides staring at Athynae like she was a dish of iced fruit and he had just bought a new spoon. She might think he was a “sweet boy,” but I remembered his declaration that, as a man of the Skaal, he was now able to marry.

The village appeared to be peaceful; the only tracks were those of hunters- the two-legged kind- going about their routine. Still, there was tension in the air, and the guards were posted outside the Great Hall, which indicated that Tharsten Heart-Fang had not returned. They were stiffly formal with me, but treated Athynae as if she was visiting royalty- or a long-lost sister. I enjoyed watching the gruff hunters turn into eager boys in her presence, and what made it better was that she was unaware of the effect she had.

It was already late afternoon, and that brought its own dilemma- where would we sleep? Before I could make much headway on that problem, we had reached Korst’s house and knocked on the door. The shaman greeted us with a book in one hand and his pipe in the other.

“Welcome back, Athlain. And I see you have brought a guest, as well.”

I knew from previous conversations that Athynae had not met the shaman; he had been away during the time she spent with the Skaal. So I made introductions, and Korst’s gaze sharpened as he no doubt recalled the finding ceremony he had performed for me.

However, all he said was, “A pleasure to meet you at last.”

Meanwhile, his use of the word “guest” brought my concern about accommodations to the fore again and I chewed my lip in thought before I remembered. I turned to Athynae and said, “You can put your things in Rik… in the Blodskaal’s house and I can stay with Lassnr or Korst.”

Thyna’s eyes came back from whatever distant thoughts she had been contemplating, something only she could see. Most times, I would have been happy to see her return to the present, except that her intense gaze now pinned me where I stood.

“Excuse me? The who’s what? Who is this ‘Blodskaal,’ and what right do you have to offer me his house?”

I really did not want to tell her how the house came to be mine- about how I had been forced to pass judgment on the unfortunate Rikolfr- nor the form his punishment had taken- being torn to pieces by spectral wolves. Meanwhile, Korst was suddenly overcome by a coughing fit, but I ignored him; he was a shaman- he could make himself a potion or something. I wished I was a shaman- or that I could at least make myself disappear, especially as Thyna was still waiting, only now with her arms folded, her shapely right hand resting on the bracer on her left arm. Any second now- and yes. Her fingers began tapping a dangerous cadence on the bracer. The sound was enhanced by the guards she wore over her fingertips, an innovation of her own. Normally, you could forget they were there, except when she wanted you to notice- like now- or when she punched her stiffened fingers into a soft part of your anatomy.

“Yes, well… you see… that is to say…” I temporized.

Now her foot was tapping a counterpoint to the rhythm of her finger guards on the bracer. Her lips were curving upwards, but calling it a “smile” would be like calling a blizzard a “cooling breeze.”

“It is a ceremonial title given to one who has proved himself a friend of the Skaal, often by performing some service.”

Korst had apparently managed to overcome whatever ailed him; his voice was smooth as he provided that useful interlocution. Having found the power of speech once more, he continued, “Athlain currently holds that honor and the house that goes with it.”

“How… nice.”

Athynae’s voice could have removed the barnacles from the hulls of the entire Imperial Fleet.

“And just what ‘service’ did you provide?”

“I… ah… erm… helped repel a werewolf attack on the village. Didn’t I tell you about that?”

Before she could bring her considerable talent for interrogation to bear, Korst pulled our attention back to more important matters.

“I have been waiting for you to return. The signs point to the coming of the Bloodmoon and the Wild Hunt. We cannot prevent the fulfillment of the prophecy, but we can prepare. The outcome is not certain, and it is clear to me that both of you have important roles to play.”

He urged us further into his home and continued, “First, we must consult the All-Maker and ask that He grant His blessing.”

The shaman directed us to assist him in setting up a small round table and three chairs just in front of his fireplace. He then placed a small crucible over a burner on a tripod in the center of the table and candles at the cardinal points of the compass. He pointed us to our places and took a burning brand from the fire.

“Now we may begin.”

He lit the first candle, intoning, “All-Maker, by the Blood of the North, I request that you grant your wisdom.”

He then passed the brand to Athynae and pointed to the eastern candle. As she touched flame to wick, Korst spoke: “By the hand of the Child of the Dawn, we ask that you send the light of knowledge to us.”

Athynae’s hand shook a bit, but she got the candle lit. The shaman took back the burning branch and lit the southern candle with the words, “Unknown south, reveal to us that which is hidden.”

Finally, he passed it to me and pointed to the last candle. As I lit it, he finished, “By the courage of the Child of the West, help us bring our quest to a successful ending.”

Taking the brand from me, he used it to light the burner beneath the crucible, and then tossed it back into the fireplace, indicating that we could take our seats.

“Please join hands and close the circle.”

When we had done so, the shaman smiled and told us, “It is well to have a true companion in such an endeavor as this. Where one might falter or lose heart, two will stand firm. I will serve as your guide. The All-Maker sees everything that passes on this island that He made to be a home for His children. But He does not reach out with His hand into the world of mortals. It is for we, the Skaal, to show our strength, our courage, and our wisdom. It is for this He made us and placed us here.”

With that, Korst released our hands. “The unity of our purpose will keep the circle intact.”

Even though we heard the words, it took Athynae and me a moment to let go of each other. Mysticism always made me nervous. If the shaman noticed, he chose not to comment. Instead, he began to drop various powders into the crucible. Finally, he handed hollow reeds to us and pointed at ports in the base of the vessel.

“Blow gently into the mixture, that your breath may mingle with the sacred smoke, just as the All-Maker breathed life into His children. In this way he will know you. A single breath will be sufficient. As you do so, think of your purpose and your need.”

When we did as he asked, the smoke from the crucible changed color, going from white, to grey, to red, to blue. Korst inverted a glass bowl above the crucible, capturing the smoke within.
“You may relax now. The All-Maker will show me the way.”

He contemplated the swirling vapor within the bowl, reading meanings in the movement. As he did so, he nodded his understanding, darting quick glances at Athynae and then at me. At last he sighed and turned the bowl upright, releasing the smoke.

“The final turning of your path remains hidden, but this I have been given to know- you have each been chosen by the All-Maker to serve as His agents in this struggle. However, as you are not of the Skaal, there are rituals you must complete. If you triumph, the All-Maker will give signs by which all will know you.”

He stood from his place and doused the candles and the burner, then tipped the contents of the crucible into the fireplace. Last, he broke the reeds we had used and burned them as well.

“One cannot be too careful with the tools of magic, especially when battling such a wily foe. The first thing you must do is journey to the Tombs of Skaalara to retrieve the Totem of Claw and Fang. It… disappeared when the werewolves attacked the Great Hall. But the All-Maker has given it to me to see where it now rests- and that it is your burden to find it and bring it back. The Totem is necessary to perform the Ristaag.”

He looked at us carefully, making sure we grasped the gravity of his next words. “You do understand that the Tombs are almost certainly a trap? The Hunter usually has more than one string to his bow. While it is true that we cannot perform the Ristaag without the Totem, it can also serve as bait- for you.”

I finally found my voice. “Then you advise us not to go?”

“No. The ceremony must be performed, and you and Mistress Athynae are essential to its success. I simply suggest that you walk carefully and keep your senses alert. There are enough dangers in the ancient barrows even when the eye of Hircine is not upon you. Beyond that, the All-Maker tests His children, but He does not set them at obstacles they cannot overcome.” He smiled bleakly. “Of course, that does not mean He makes it easy. For now- rest. Tomorrow will be the time to begin.”

I loved the shamanistic ritual you described here, though I initially thought it was odd that the ritual focused on the four cardinal directions but only three people were present. Yes, Korst Wind-Eye was both North and South, and as I thought about it it seemed to make some odd sort of sense - shamans inhabit the in-between that lie in the middle of opposites - light and dark, life and death, youth and wisdom, why not between North and South? I loved that he called 'Thyna the Child of the East - would that be a reference to Azura? Or rather to her birth in Vvardenfell?

This new silence between Athlain and 'Thyna is somber, but I feel it is necessary for their relationship to progress to the next level. In order to work together as a team, they need to spend a little bit of time apart to become more familiar with their own new selves. It seems to be a time for introspection, for self-evaluation, for a reassessment of priorities and assumptions. I look forward to how the relationship grows from this point forward.

Pure darn brilliant!

I liked the ritual, mystic and intense, could almost smell the smoke and feel the eerie athmosphere

Oh let them be successful.....

I enjoyed the exchange between Athlain and Athynae when she realized he had achieved some status among the Skaal without informing her.

The ritual was lovely. I liked every detail, especially the contrast between the Child of the Dawn and Child of the West. And now they have the task of retrieving the Totem. Chilling to know that the Hunter has undoubtedly set others against them.

I'm finally caught up!

Really well done! Like others, I enjoyed the ritual and how you paint the imagery so vividly. I am less familiar with Bloodmoon than vanilla Morrowind and Tribunal, but the way you describe the scenes make me feel like I know the setting intimately. Again, well done!

I also like the way Athynae describes her inner turmoil, both in regards to her duty to protect Athlain and in her frustration at Uncle Seth's distantness. These characters have grown so much since we first met them, and I am excited to see what further surprises the road ahead will bring!

When was the last time I posted in a story thread? Ages. But since I decided to drop in and even log in for once, I feel compelled to note how happy I am that this story continues, even if only in fits and starts.

@haute- The rituals are interesting for me to write, as my game play tends to deal more with the “Sword” side of things than the “Sorcery.” And yes- making 3 people represent 4 directions kinda did not fit for me either, but I could not think of a way to add someone without Athynae pitching a major rebellion. And as you note, Korst is the person who “stands between,” while the youngsters represent the Empire and the frontier. Yes- Athynae’s designation signifies both her association with Azura and her place as a “child of Morrowind.”

Some growth and conversation- although still with yelling- coming up!

Thank you as ever for your thoughtful and welcome comments.

@minque- Athynae’s mannerisms are so much fun to describe… she is so vivid in my mind. And again, the hocus pocus is also fun to think up and write.

@Grits- They cannot order breakfast without it being a fight… and using Korst as a bit of a “straight man” gave him some added personality. There is humor lurking under that “just a simple Nordic shaman” exterior…

And I could write a book on the symbolism of the A and A team’s contrasts… but I won’t. Oh wait…

The final confrontation with the Hunter looms on the horizon, but there are skirmishes yet to be fought.

@Khajiit_Thief01- It is so good to see you back! And to see you still writing Stich as well! Thank you for reading and for your insightful comments. Looking forward to more of your story, as well.

@Canis216- And it is a joy to have you drop by! Thank you for continuing to peruse this story. Take care, my friend.

Where we are- The signs and portents point to the coming of the Bloodmoon, when Hircine calls the Great Hunt. His machinations have already affected Athynae and Athlain, and now they have been given the task of shaping the course of the Prophecy. It cannot be prevented- but perhaps it can be mitigated. But if these two “outsiders” are to represent the Skaal, they must carry a sign of the All-Maker’s blessing- the Totem of Claw and Fang. That symbol disappeared when werewolves attacked the Great Hall- along with Tharsten Heart-Fang, the Skaal chieftain. Shaman Korst Wind-Eye has performed a ritual to divine the Totem’s location. Now Athynae and Athlain must work together to retrieve it, even though chances are it is bait in Hircine’s trap.

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Lassnr had a fire burning and a good stock of wood piled in the chimney corner. I reminded myself to replenish it- in the morning. For now, I was glad of the warmth and the company, for the cold wind seemed to circle the cabin like an animal seeking entry. Perhaps I had accidentally breathed some of Korst’s vision-inducing smoke; I seemed to see shapes moving in the shadows just beyond the edge of seeing.

For his part, Lassnr sought to draw my mind from somber thoughts.

“Had another letter from Tymvaul. He is learning the art of healing.”

The proud father drew a parchment from his pocket and tilted it so that the light fell on the page. He read aloud:

I see now that this is true power- being able to set right an injury or illness. A boy was carried in from the street just last week; his legs had been crushed by a wagon. In another place, he would have died or only lived out his existence as a crippled beggar. But Mistress Oleta and Mistress Marz made him whole again. As I write this, that boy is running through the gardens. Father, they gave him back the chance to have a life. I cannot imagine a better course of study. I have spoken with the Arch-Mage, and if I do well in my studies here, I will be allowed to travel to Bravil to learn from Mistress Marz. You see, she is not a mage, but a healer in the Temple of Mara.

Lassnr folded the letter back and put it away. He puffed on his pipe for a moment and said,

“There are many ways to ‘set things right.’ I am glad Tymvaul has found his path. And I do not forget that it was you that guided him.”

After that, he fell silent once more, leaving me with my own thoughts, which were less bleak than before.



Even though I rose early, gathering firewood and breaking my fast before the first hint of dawn, when I next stepped outside, Athynae awaited me, armed and equipped. The morning light seemed to set her hair aflame, and I could not catch my breath for a moment. But at the same time, I saw shadows beneath her eyes and tried for a lighter note.

“Are you so anxious to walk into a trap, then?”

Her reply was terse. “I am ready for this to be over. Do you know the way to the Tombs of Skaalara?”

It struck me as peculiar that the person Korst had referred to as the “Daughter of the Dawn” was so testy in the morning, but I decided to keep that observation to myself. If we were walking into an ambush, I preferred to do so with all of my limbs in working order. To further that end, I handed her the steaming mug that I had been hiding behind my back. Her eyes widened as the scent of hackle-lo tea reached her nostrils and she whispered:

“I wonder how you put up with me.”

But she also cradled the mug possessively, breathing in the aroma before taking a long sip.

Here is a secret about Athynae- though she was an excellent alchemist and loved hackle-lo tea- she was incapable of making a palatable cup of the brew. I suspected her inability was a combination of impatience and her habit of only opening her eyes far enough to avoid walking into walls in the morning. Regardless, I thought her mood would be chancy enough, so I had made the tea, following Mother’s method, right down to the shredded bittergreen leaves. Given what we were about to face, that taste of home was welcome. I don’t know about anyone else, but that was how I faced my fears- by remembering the things that mattered.

We stood in companionable silence while she savored her tea, watching the village come to life around us. Athynae caught me looking at her profile, at the morning sun setting her hair alight, and quirked an eyebrow at me, but said nothing. In that moment, she matched the name Korst had given her, “Child of the Dawn.” When she had consumed the last drop and put away the cup, I smiled at her and said:

“Now can we go try not to get ourselves killed?”



The tomb was typical of the barrows on Solstheim- an entry cut into the slope, braced with timbers and roofed with turf. At the end stood a stone door. We paused in the sunlight for moment and I asked Athynae,

“Are you ready?”

She did not turn her attention away from the door, but spoke in a cold voice.

“Some of Hircine’s hounds are here, waiting inside for us.”

I should have listened more carefully, should have looked at her eyes before responding, but I was distracted by my concern for what was yet to come. So all I said was,

“That is possible.”

Her voice could have disintegrated stone. “No. They are here. I can … sense them.” She paused. “I can smell them, all right?” She finally glanced at me. “Speaking of which, why are you not wearing the lavender and bittergreen?”

I mumbled a reply, trailing off with, “…I forgot.”

Her eyes blazed at me, but her voice was still low. “Athlain. If we are going to do this, if you are to survive it, you must learn to listen to me. This is not a game, where one opinion is as good as another.”

She gestured at the barrow. “It will be dark inside this tomb. Their element, not mine, not any more. I need to take the lead, and I need to know where you are and that you will do as I say. If you cannot abide by those rules, I will leave you here and go in alone. I would prefer not to; Korst seems to believe that we must finish this together. So. Will you please do as I ask?”

Athynae saying “please” was like Lord Vivec coming out of his dwelling in the city that bore his name and walking abroad. So I retrieved the vial of scent and looked a question at her.

“Put a drop in the center of your brow and some on the outside of each shoulder. That will be enough to guide me. And when we are inside, do not wander off on your own. If we are to be a team we need to stay together.”

The thought came to my mind, but not from my lips, that she would have made a formidable pilus prior in the Legion. Of course, her career would have been cut short the first time she told a general that his grand strategy was “stupid.” I also kept that thought to myself.

Going into a dark place where enemies waited was not new to me, not after dealing with the Udyrfrykte and Carnius' mercenaries. However, I had not done so while accompanied by someone whose life meant more to me than my own. The idea of asking ‘Thyna to stand watch while I “had a look around inside" died before it was even fully formed.

With no other recourse, I knelt at the altar of Legion training.

You are going to get hit; you are going to lose troops; you are going to regret that you ever signed up. But what you will not do is quit. If you give up, all the blood and pain is for nothing. So tighten up your armor and grit your teeth and keep pushing forward.

As the remembered word echoed in my mind, I checked my armor, drew the Gift, and opened the door to the tomb. Darkness seemed to flow out and we stepped forward to meet it.

So much to enjoy here, not least the return of the A&A duo! They have been much missed by this starving reader! Am I needy? When there are characters that I care so much about, HELL YES I AM!!!

Love this bit of irony that makes Athlain so special to me (and Julian).

This made a certain pilus prior chuckle. It also reinforces her decision to let him off on a certain charge.

This pilus prior also agrees heartily with the value of Legion training. Tighten up your armor, grit your teeth, and push forward, indeed. That is just how the nasty jobs get done.

Great to hear Lassnr’s letter from Tymvaul. It made me think about Trey possibly wishing for an update from his son.

I loved the dawn scene over Athlain’s carefully prepared offering of hackle-lo tea. That made a warm memory to carry down into the tomb.

Darkness seemed to flow out and we stepped forward to meet it.

*shiver* That sounds absolutely heroic!

*Sigh* ...Although, it's not like I haven't read it...It seems I hadn't read it with my head on straight...

Bloody hell matey, that's just stunning writing...We have discussed many times that you felt you had evolved as a writer since Trey began his adventures all that time ago...Well, I can now officially pronounce you...Right...

I thought your early stuff was amazing, you know that...But it's true...These last two parts are amazing...The details of the village and in the cabin...The way Athlain notices Athynae in the morning, the bit with the tea was stunning...



There's a married person who hasn't asked this at some point?... ...

Ooooh, I loved all that ritual stuff with Korst...And that bit with his coughing fit made me laugh... ...

Fair dues matey...You need to get back to the writing...*Points*...Now!!...Go...Write!!...

What?... ...Don't give me that look, I know, I know...

You first!!... ...

Such a brilliant story...

Love it!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Yes. Well. So it has been way too long. Let us just say… things and stuff happened, and leave it there. I will aver, vow, state, and declare that we have no intention of abandoning this story. The ending has been written almost since the beginning- I just need to manage to get there…

@haute- Abject apologies for making you wait so long, and hopes that this new offering will be found acceptable. Athlain has a tendency to notice (and point out- at least in his journal) things that are probably best left unremarked. I, of course, have no idea from whence that comes… I very much thought of Julian’s example (as did Athlain) when writing the part about going forward.

@Grits- The continuing story of Lassnr and his son owes much to you- for showing me that just because a character is “off-stage,” does not mean she has stopped having a life. And the normally perceptive Athlain has yet to recognize that there may be another concerned father out there, hoping for a letter from his wandering son… One of my RL duties is making certain that a particular redhead is supplied with the caffeinated beverage of her choice. Doing so makes my life much easier…

@McB- My thanks. I admit to being more critical of my earlier writing, because I was winging it a lot of the time and mostly just stuck to the main quest. In the time since, other writers have stepped up and shown me how rich the environment and “supporting cast” can be. I wonder- frequently- how Mrs. Treydog has put up with me… Having those “older and wiser” characters like Korst or Brynjolfr to… gently guide the dueling pair has been lots of fun. And so has imagining and writing the rituals. Writing- well yes. Hmm- I believe what follows will qualify. At which point- it will be… your move?

Where we are- Athynae and Athlain have been tasked to retrieve an item that is sacred to the Skaal, in hopes of preventing or mitigating the worst effects of the Blood Moon. The Totem of Claw and Fang disappeared when werewolves attacked the Skaal village. Korst, the shaman, has divined the location- the Tombs of Skaalara. And he also suspects the totem is bait in a trap set by Hircine, the Daedric Prince of the Hunt. What follows is Athynae’s account of what happened next.



It should have been a beautiful dawn, the low sun making diamond sparks on the snow. And tea. Made almost perfectly, with a couple of crushed bittergreen leaves. But I did not have time or thoughts to spare for beauty. This would be a day for blood and darkness. And how many more of those would there be? How many more until this was finished?

Our trip to the Tomb of Skaalara was conducted in silence. If my mind had not been occupied with the hunt, I might have appreciated Athlain’s restraint- when had he learned to just leave me to my thoughts? And then, there was the whole “Blodskaal” business. What else had he neglected to tell me? How was I supposed to protect him if he kept secrets? And… I paused to take a sniff- if he bathed and then failed to re-apply the lavender and bittergreen I had made for him?

By then, we were at the entrance to the tomb, so I kept my voice low while I explained things to him… again. For once, he only made a token protest and then actually listened. Perhaps he would live through this- if I didn’t kill him first. While he put drops of the scent on his shoulders and forehead, I turned my attention to the stone doors of the tomb.

Cold air whispered out of the gap between the leaves, carrying the expected odors of earth and decay. But there was a stronger scent too; an unpleasant combination of musk, old blood, and… hunger. Hircine’s hounds waited inside. Against my will, my newly enhanced sense of smell sorted and catalogued the signatures of numerous individuals, more than five of a certainty. Some were deep inside; others were close by. In fact one was just inside the entry. Very well- he would be the first to die.

I would lead and Athlain would watch my back. It wasn’t ideal; I would have preferred for him to stay with Korst. But that wasn’t going to happen- even without a prophecy. He was too stubborn. And besides, if I left him alone, he would just get into trouble. Better to have him where I could keep an eye on him. Eyes. That was a problem. As he pulled open one of the doors, I could see that the interior was barely illuminated by torches and firepits. I would have preferred complete darkness to the flickering of light and shadow.



“Close your eyes.” Uncle Seth’s voice was the usual mixture of amusement and certainty.

“Why?”

The corners of his mouth turned up just a bit. “So suspicious to be so young. I am wounded, princess.”

“Nuh-uh. And I’m not… ‘spicious.’ I just want to know why.”

“Because a warrior must rely on all of her senses, not just sight. What if a bandit tied you up in a sack and was carrying you off? How would you figure out where you were?”

”That’s just silly, Uncle Seth. I’d cut my way out with my dagger. And then I would know where I was. And the bandit would be sorry.”

Seth closed his eyes tightly for a moment and got that look on his face, like he had a headache. When he focused on me again he muttered,

“I can see a practical demonstration is in order.”

He bent down to look me in the face, and went on, “I am going to the Rat in the Pot. I will be there for 15 minutes exactly. During that time, you may conceal yourself somewhere outdoors.”

He considered for a few seconds and added, “Within the bounds your mother has set for you.”

I just managed to not kick the ground in frustration; it was NOT FAIR that he could read my mind like that. But I got over it soon enough. This was a contest, and I intended to win.

Once I had found my place, time seemed to crawl. But I knew how to keep still. Not like Athlain, who would have been fidgeting like a kagouti with ash fleas. I kept my head down, not even giving in to the temptation to peek. I knew that if I looked at him, Uncle Seth would feel my eyes on him, just like I always knew when someone- usually Kausha or Mother- was watching me.

“You can stand up now, princess. You are behind the brown rock shaped like an ash-yam, near the scathecraw patch.”

“How?” I demanded.

“I observed, princess, using all of my senses, as well as my knowledge of you.”

He swept his arm to indicate the tumbled walls of Ald’ruhn.

“I set boundaries for you, and I knew you would honor them. A less-than-clever person would have gotten as close to that line as possible.”

I bit my lip; that had been my first thought.

“But a clever warrior princess, one trained by me, would stay closer in, hoping the hunter would walk right past her.”

“The guar were peaceful- so I knew you were nowhere near the pens. You always have treats for them and they would have crowded to one side or the other if they had sensed your presence.

Your mother uses soap with a light but distinct scent. However, I know she is visiting the Ahemussa. When the wind wafted that scent to me from the west side of town, I knew I was close. Finally, there is a scrib which nests beneath that scathecraw. He is clicking in a pattern that indicates annoyance, meaning he cannot get to his burrow.”



Only one part of my mind was occupied with the memory, and it passed in the time between my first step into the tomb and the next. All the while, another part of me was extending my senses, making a picture of the tomb from the sounds and scents and the feel of the air moving against my face, the texture of the stone beneath my boots.

Then a more substantial shadow rushed forward and I stopped worrying about what I could or could not see. Because sight was only one sense and I had others.

A warrior never depends on a single weapon- she is the weapon.

So, whether I could see him clearly or not, I was ready when the beast loomed out of the darkness on my left. My ears had caught the scrape of claws on stone; my skin felt the swirl of air displaced by movement… But rather than sending Dreamer in a diagonal cut, I unwrapped my left hand from her hilt and jammed my forearm straight into the gaping maw. Afterward, remembering Athlain’s sharp intake of breath brought an involuntary curve to my lips, as he wondered what madness had possessed me. But it was anger and intent that drove me, not madness. And for the moment, I was focused on Hircine’s hound- and his master.

Do not underestimate this “princess”, Hircine. I wear that title proudly because of the one who gave it to me, but more than that, I am a warrior, a designation I have earned. I am a daughter of Great House Redoran, the child of Athyn and Serene Sarethi, not a coddled and protected female, afraid of her own shadow.

I pushed harder on the arm that was crosswise in the beast’s mouth, forcing my armored flesh toward the hinges of his jaw.

“So you want to eat me?” I hissed. “Then go ahead, take a big bite.”

The werewolf responded in the only way he could, biting down hard and thus finding the surprise that lay beneath my leathers. Blue fire illuminated his muzzle as his teeth encountered the silver plating- Nordic silver, I heard Bryn rumble in my mind- and the pungent odor of burnt flesh filled the air. The beast howled in agony and released my arm, springing back to paw at his face.

My hand found Dreamer’s hilt and drove her tip into his heart. I pushed her deeper so that we were chest-to-chest, telling the dying abomination, “Death. Pain and death, that is all you or your master will ever have from me.”

With a quick back-step, I pulled the katana free, wiping the tainted blood from her blade on the beast’s fur. I heard Athlain draw breath once more, this time in preparation for questions I had no wish to answer. Before he could sort out which one to ask first, I put I finger to his lips. What I needed now was silence. The other hounds lurking in the winding passages knew we were there, knew something had befallen one of their number, but they could not be certain. Let them wonder what horror stalked the darkness, ready to spring out at them.

“Sshh,” I whispered. “Not now. They are aware that something has happened, and I will need all of my senses to discern their movements.”

Fortunately, though his mind was spinning like a child’s top, Athlain understood my desire for silence, as well as my reasons; he went still. I pointed to the right and raised two fingers. He tapped the back of my hand once with his finger- “yes” in the simple code we had developed years before. It had been a game then, now it was life or death. His uncanny ability to remember everything usually annoyed me, but at that moment I could have hugged him. He then tapped the… enhanced… leather covering my arm, and I knew his lips were quirked in a half-smile. That put me right back to being annoyed.

Loved the description of how useful ALL of our senses can be. For someone who lives without one of those five, I totally get 'Thyna's (and Seth's) point about using all of your senses.

And this old pilus particularly loved this: As one who learned from a Master of the Sun Dance, she knows better than most the fundamental truth of this.

I just loved warrior Athynae’s confident control of the situation. Every move she makes is grounded in life-long training and preparation, and that makes her victories so sweet to watch.

Athlain came through so clearly in his moments here. The way he’s part of Athynae’s awareness even while she has her arm in a werewolf’s jaws was a beautiful thing to read.

Things and stuff sound like symptoms of a full life. I’m so glad that sharing A & A’s journey here is still a part of it. I think the best inspiration comes when we are far too busy to write, so of course that’s when I find myself fighting the hardest for time to do it.

@haute- I am pleased that Athynae’s adaptation to her night-blindness works. Julian provided a wonderful example of how to deal with limitations while not giving in to them. And the most important aspect of that was that the greatest weapon is the mind.

@Grits- We will see more of that planning in the following- and what happens when she finds that some things (or people) cannot be completely accounted for… This post and the next one (when I get it written) will illuminate their continued development as individuals and as a team. One of the hardest parts of RL is knowing the ‘what’ of the story, but not having the time to get to the ‘how.’

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

We crept down the corridor as one, and even though I knew the sounds of Athlain’s armor were more my imagination than reality, I still felt the strong desire to shush him. We approached what appeared to be an opening into a larger space; I could barely discern the flickering of a fire, larger than the torches at the main entrance and dispersed randomly through the corridors. I decided it must be a fire pit of some sort. Beneath the scent of smoke, I detected two different werewolves. If pressed, I could not have explained how I knew there were two- only that the scents were almost like colors in the air.

Moving forward, I traced a path from the side of the passage to the middle in an attempt to block Athlain and put myself in a better position to assess where the enemy was. If I could make short work of these two without Athlain’s involvement I would. From the shadowed opening I saw one standing with his paws toward the fire as if he were warming them.

“Stupid animal, you have fur for warmth and still can’t help but allow what tiny bit of humanity you have left to show itself.”

The other I could sense, hidden in the shadows across the fire from the where I stood. I looked that direction only to find darkness. I stilled myself and concentrated to pinpoint the scent as well as any other indicator as to his exact location.

I could feel Athlain behind me, mentally pushing me to move. I put my hand up in a fist as I devised my plan. “Two steps to the one by the fire, one if I leap.” Once the picture of how I would move was in my mind, I crouched in preparation and reached to the hilt of Dreamer with my left hand. I bent my knees for the leap that would propel me up and forward, pulling Dreamer free as my right hand released the dagger I had drawn from my boot when I squatted. The dagger drove through the throat of the shadow dweller as my feet met ground and Dreamer split the other beast from forehead to belly, laying him open like a nice cut of fish.

“What are you doing?” Athlain’s angry whisper reached my ears.

I turned and stepped close, taking his face in my hands “I am doing what I have always done, keeping you safe, in this case alive. Seems to me you should appreciate that since you have obtained all these positions of prominence that require you to be breathing to do your job!”

“I do not need you to keep me alive, Athynae. I am here as your equal, your partner. We keep each other alive.”

“Well, as you can see, I needed no assistance here.” I crossed my arms and looked smugly at the two corpses.

“You can’t continue to act as my protector, to shield me from combat like… like some infant! I have just as much responsibility to keep you alive. And I do not carry this mace,” he tapped the Gift lightly, “because I think it looks good.”

Hidden beneath the anger was a hint of pain; he wanted not only to fight on my behalf, but to be allowed to stand beside me. Once again I had acted without consideration, I had hurt my best friend yet again in the process of trying to keep him from being hurt.

“You cannot expect me to change overnight what has become almost instinctive, Athlain. My oath is as much a part of me as breathing. I am trying.” In reality the thought of allowing him to come to within hailing distance of harm had not crossed my mind. I would just have to do my best to give the appearance of acquiescing to his desire to by part of the fight. Great, one more problem to plague my already taxed brain.

“Try harder, Thyna. I am quite capable of defending myself. If I wasn’t I would have been sent home in a box long before now.” From all that I had heard I knew this to be true, and in reality I did not have anywhere near the experience he did, but that changed little in my mindset. I could not forget the picture of that chubby infant tumbling from the balcony of Under Skar. My life had changed that day, in ways I could never have imagined.

But then my senses went into alert mode- the odor wafting into my nostrils was coming from the corridor opposite where we had entered. One of Hircine’s beasts had decided not to wait, but to come and see for himself. Athlain caught my expression immediately and backed into the shadows. Perhaps there was a way… if only this lycanthrope would cooperate.

I raised one finger and since he was hidden I was unsure if Athlain saw or not. The scent grew stronger and I could hear the distinct shuffle of the beast’s feet. He growled, probably catching the smell of blood and death. I stepped to the fire and faced the corridor with my hands stretched out over the heat, much like the late werewolf had done, and made no move to hide. Now I could only hope that the approaching monster was stupid- and that Athlain was smart- smart enough to recognize that I was giving him a chance to prove his mettle.

The beast’s pace increased as I warmed my hands over the flame. He stopped just outside the room, and I could feel his eyes boring holes through me as he sniffed the air. A deep growl of anger lingered even as he charged into the cavern. I didn’t move, not even to reach for Dreamer. I knew that Athlain would not allow the abomination to touch me, I did. And if my fingers twitched toward the throwing stars at my belt, it was only for a second.

Half way between the opening and the fire the creature’s eyes and then his mouth flew wide and he slammed forward, his head just missing the stones surrounding the fire. The Gift had crunched into the base of his neck with a flash of blue fire. Athlain had broken the monster’s spine, stopping him mid-stride.

I walked to the corpse in the shadows and retrieved my dagger, wiping it clean before I returned it to my boot. “We need to move on, I’m ready to be done with this.”

“As am I, but Thyna- one thing first.” He put his hand on my shoulder, holding me from walking away. “That act of ‘charity’ was a start, but even one of my sisters could have pulled that off. You cannot allow me to protect you only when you know it’s a given. We know each other and can fight together as one if you will simply accept it. There is no other person on Nirn that I would rather have fighting by my side.” He released me and added quietly, “It would just be wonderful if you could grant me the same consideration.”

All I could do was nod. I did trust him; I just didn’t want to take any chances. His life had always meant more to me than mine.

I knew my small act of trust was a shot in the dark, I also knew that I had to stop trying to do it all. The quest we were on was already getting tough and honestly of all the people I knew the only other person I might have wanted to be by my side for this would be Uncle Seth. The only problem with that would be him putting me in the position I was even now putting Athlain in. How would I feel? Madder than a cliff racer with a hangnail. I took a deep breath and decided that I was really going to try to not keep blocking Athlain. Obviously he had accomplished far more than I could have fathomed, and by such was held in high regard even by these obstinate, tradition loving, superstitious people. If he had worked his way into their fold the least I could do was allow him to prove to me what he had already proven to them.

Our conversation ended abruptly when my hand went up. I homed in on the sound and its direction. It was coming closer but then turned. I wasn't familiar with the tombs so I didn't know if it was just the lay out of the corridors or if the next to die was truly moving away from us.

Athlain looked at me and silently asked for answers. I drew an arrow toward the sound then a line showing they had turned. He shrugged and I stood again. I pointed toward the corridor and started moving. The space between torches was increasing which was even more problematic. I was moving into and out of each circle of light and in between finding total darkness. The constant need to adjust was giving me a headache and making me consider the idea of a blindfold; total blindness would be better than this.

As we snaked through the corridor I considered the irony, the blind leading the sighted. It made sense to me; if anything living obstructed my path I could act with deadly force, but if I allowed Athlain the lead, two problems presented; one, he would be the one attacked and two, I would have to avoid hitting him while killing them.

Just as the thought was complete, my instincts reacted. Spinning one hundred eighty degrees, I pulled one of the stars from my waist and motioned Athlain to move, hoping he wasn't looking elsewhere. Before I released the projectile I heard a heavy thump and the subsequent gurgle as all the air escaped the beast’s lungs from his crushed chest.

I let a small sound of humor escape my mouth as I realized the flaw in my previous thoughts; I had no choice but to laugh a little at my own stupidity. Uncle Seth's voice echoed in my head,

"You cannot plan for every possibility, it is better to allow yourself to adapt to unforeseen obstacles that arise. Over planning can give you a false sense of security and limit the range of your senses."

Thankfully, even though I had attempted the impossible, I had also allowed my senses to reach beyond. It took another thought just a tad longer to materialize- Athlain had taken care of the problem; he had done what I had tried to keep him from 'needing' to do. Not only that, but he had done it without me even registering that he had moved.

"Can I get up now?" His voice, soft, broke my mental gyrations.

"What?" I asked before I realized his voice was close to the ground.

"I caught your signal as I was spinning and I didn't want one of your projectiles buried in my well polished armor." I heard the slightest clank as I reached out my hand to help him stand.

"You could have just moved to the side or ducked; you didn't have to dive in the dirt."

"So you say. Remember, I've been fighting with you for a long time."

I still had his hand and I squeezed it before I let go. "Oh, that's right; you've had lots of duck and dive training."

"I hate you." Whether he made his voice sound like a child or I just heard it that way I didn't know.

"Yes, I know. I hate you too, but it would be too much trouble to train a new best friend at this point."

The banter was like a refreshing sip of one of Aunt Baria's special fruit drinks after weeding her garden. For the briefest moment all that had happened in recent months didn't exist and we were sitting on the paddock fence watching Lumhara and Cos Mear frolic.

I couldn't see his face, which was probably a good thing and I turned around so he wouldn't see the pooling that was close to breaking free of the bounds of my lower lashes.

I shook myself free of the memory and got back to the business at hand. As stupid as I felt this fiasco was, we still had to complete the task of retrieving the totem.

We had been in the tombs for what seems like days, hunting for more of Hircine's hounds, picking them off almost without effort. I knew though as soon as we dropped our guard there would be a price to pay.

The air was getting thick with moisture; surely we were getting closer to something. We'd searched every area meticulously and I was beginning to think this was all a farce.

"Just keep looking Athynae; inevitably it will be in the last possible place." Kausha's words rang in my head, something she repeated every time I mislaid something.

A large open area loomed, as big as the dining hall in the village. The odors wafted and swirled, making it a test of my talent to decipher the direction and proximity of the beasts that still roamed the caverns. There were three corridors to choose from and Athlain moved close and leaned in as he asked, "Problem?"

"What? No, there’s no problem. Why?" Sometimes he really could ask the stupidest questions.

"You stopped."

"Do you not think we need to consider which corridor to take?" I was really trying to control my tone but it still rolled out like I was talking to a lower life form.

"No, not really. The two on the right are not only further away but offer little to keep us hidden. The one to the left is much closer and there are also more rocks protruding, creating shadows and blocking the light from the torches." His tone was smooth and lacked any accusation of my being the stupid one...what's more I could not find a flaw in his reasoning. How did I not see that? Before I could come up with any kind of response he added, " It's experience Thyna, that's all. I've spent almost as much time underground on this island as I have above."

I could have blown off on a tangent that would have opened a hole in the earth above our heads. I don't know why his explanation made it worse, but it did. Fortunately, there were still werewolves that needed killing.

What, another treydog update ALREADY??



So I enjoyed this installment tremendously as I have always done. I love the growing pains of the new A&A partnership as Athlain finds the courage to call 'Thyna to task for not acknowledging his newfound maturity in the fighting arts, and as 'Thyna struggles to recognize Athlain as someone who is no longer her inferior in the martial arts.

Old Habits Die Hard, indeed.

But I see hope for their friendship and partnership in this little exchange (which made me laugh, BTW):

It's moments like these that tell me that their friendship is still going strong, even as they struggle to come to terms with each other in this strange land we call Solstheim.

That was utterly amazing!!...

Oh, sorry I'm late btw...Just...My brain...Y'know?...*Gestures*...

Aaamywho...

I absolutely loved the quiet beginning with the tea and the flashback...These flashbacks (and those written for the Princess Journal™ ) are always amazing...

I love - as a character, I'm not quite ready to go down the "In love with a male literary character" route though - Seth, he's a proper brilliant bit of writing...So get bloody writing Blackie...I know you're reading this... ...And I love the way he's written into this story...

Um...

Oh yeah...When the Dungeon Crawl™ proper starts, it's just brilliant...I love the way Athynae tries desperately to do everything...And yet, I can absolutely see Athlain's frustration at not being able to simply do what he's perfectly capable of doing...

Speaking from a current real-life frustration, I can empathise completely with that... ...

Athynae's struggle to let go is so brilliantly written...It's a shame that Real-Life™ always gets in the way of unending creativity...Hopefully we'll be treated to more Princess soon enough...

Aaamywho...(again)...The whole piece was proper amazing to read from start to finish...I'm sooo looking forward to more...

*Dusts off cliché*...

Nice one!!!...

*Applauds most heartily*


EDIT!!!...



...Be careful what you wish for matey... ...

If pressed, I could not have explained how I knew there were two- only that the scents were almost like colors in the air.

*contented sigh* That phrase is simply magical.

I loved Athlain’s speech after he crunched the third werewolf and Athynae’s thoughts that followed. The way their differing points are evolving became so clear right in the middle of the dungeon.

I could have blown off on a tangent that would have opened a hole in the earth above our heads. I don't know why his explanation made it worse, but it did. Fortunately, there were still werewolves that needed killing.

Steps forward and steps back, isn’t that how it goes. Their partnership is so real. I love it!

@haute- Updating again! Call the media! They manage to learn- just very slowly… Athlain does some musing on that in what follows. The moment you quoted was also one of my favorites. You are a constant guide as to whether we are “getting it right.”

@McB- The flashbacks and “memory sequences” help me to remember these young folks have histories which shape their present selves. And they let me “cheat” and add more story without having to come up with a whole new plot…. And the same is true for getting to “borrow” Sethyas, and Serene, and Julian of Anvil, and…. Their writers have given them such life and dimension that this story is much the richer for their appearances. (And I thank those writers- again. Because I will never be able to do so enough). And yes- Athynae made the decision that she had A Purpose in Life when she was about 3 years old. And said Purpose was to keep Athlain alive. She can be rather… determined about these things. I have it on reliable authority that the Princess may have allowed her interlocuter access to the sealed vault of journals… Thank you so much for your support and your kind words.

@Grits- It has been my firm belief for years that dogs and other creatures that rely on scent have some method (equivalent to our color spectrum perception) of cataloging and separating those scents. We will get to see a bit more of Athlain’s thoughts prior to his grousing- and yes, their relationship tends to be a lot like waves on a beach- racing forward, only to retreat- but constant for all that. And the comment to haute above, about being a “guide to whether we are getting it right,” also applies to you. My thanks for your reading and support.

Where we are- Athlain picks up the search of the Tombs of Skaalara, where he and Athynae seek a Skaal artifact known as the Totem of Claw and Fang. As expected, werewolves seem to be lurking around every corner, indicating the significance of the Totem to Hircine. The A & A team are still struggling with the concept of being a “team.” We shall see….

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

My first reaction to Athynae luring the werewolf out of the shadows was anger. No- anger was my second reaction. My first was to send the Gift slamming into the juncture where the beast’s neck met its shoulders. As the body toppled, I turned to Athynae, ready to berate her, ready to ask her what she thought she was doing by… trusting me? With her life? Because that was what she had done- stood with her back to a creature akin to the one that had almost turned her into a monster herself- and trusted me to deal with it.

My thoughts skittered back to another time on this island, a time when we were attacked by mundane wolves driven to madness by Hircine. ‘Thyna had taken down several with her bow and then stood ready while I finished the rest. And when I had asked her why she stopped shooting, her answer was simple: You were there.

Perhaps I would have preferred that she choose some other method than offering herself as bait, but I had asked that she trust me, that she treat me as an equal. My angry words disappeared like smoke. And there was another, more pragmatic reason to let them go- the beast was dead and we were unharmed. Senior Trooper Carbo had expended a great many- often profane- words getting that concept to penetrate my thick Redoran skull.

A successful battle is one that ends with you alive and the enemy dead. If you want points for style, go to the Arena. The only points out here are on the weapons that are aimed at you. You pull any of that Augustine and Gaius nonsense around me, and I’ll kill you myself.

I smiled, recalling his reference to the excessively polite characters from Imperial drama. Carbo liked to pretend to be “just a simple soldier,” but sometimes the mask slipped.

Still, I took a moment to point out that even the Red Whirlwinds would have managed such an easy target- probably. Or they would have if they hadn’t fallen into bickering about which end of the mace was which, and how to use it, and where to aim…. That thought struck a bit close to home, so I decided to otherwise just keep quiet and accept the results. Athynae was going to be Athynae; I could accept the inevitable or else count my bruises after I tried to stop her and failed.

But that did not mean a complete absence of whimsy. Doffing an imaginary hat, I executed an elaborate bow and indicated to Athynae that she could precede me. For her part, she rolled her eyes and looked as if she was waging a battle to not stick her tongue out at me. Then, rather than going into the passage I had indicated, she stepped into the darkness across the room. When she came back into the light, she flourished her silver dagger- the one she had thrown when she killed the first werewolf- and gave me a smirk as she sheathed it in her boot. I stifled a sigh and shrugged, reminding myself yet again that competing with Athynae was an exercise in frustration- and that most things were competitions to her.

But that was more familiar territory, and a comfort to me. We were still in an ancient tomb, filled with unnatural monsters intent on killing us- or turning us into equally awful monsters, but… we were together. And that was enough. I would have preferred being back at home, planning a raid on the pastry table or racing our guar across the hillsides. But training has to have a reason, and play comes to an end. As trying as she could be, I could not imagine facing this situation with anyone but Athynae.

And just as I resolved myself to be more accommodating, she stopped in the middle of a large chamber, seemingly at a loss as to where we should go next. When I quietly asked if there was some problem, she answered tersely, pointing out that we had three passages from which to choose. I had seen the layout, and made a decision, based on… well, experience, I suppose. When I suggested we take the left-hand passage, explaining my thinking. Athynae gave me an odd look, composed of equal parts annoyance and… admiration? Without a word, she edged closer to the opening I had indicated, closing her eyes to test the air.

Her caution pleased me; if my reasoning about the room beyond was correct, chances were there would be a werewolf waiting inside. Despite my resolution, it was still difficult to let ‘Thyna precede me into danger. However, I also had no desire to get perforated by her enthusiasm. Actually, that was not fair. Before she began hurling pointy projectiles around, she would at least knock me to the floor. Best just to give her the lead. ‘Thyna goes in first. I might just as well make that a motto- maybe I could inscribe it on the back of my shield… perhaps in abbreviated form.

My appreciation of that sentiment came an instant later, as she dropped her hands to her sash, then whipped them back and then forward, all in one continuous motion, sending a deadly barrage of throwing stars into the dim chamber. Based on the resultant howls of pain, her aim had been true. She cleared the doorway and stepped smoothly to the left, drawing Dreamer as she did. I followed, taking the right side, keeping shield and mace at the ready as my eyes adjusted.

A stone cube stood in the center of the chamber and something rested atop it. Of more immediate interest was the werewolf snarling and twitching against the wall behind the stone block. I wondered why the beast did not attack until I saw the gleam of silver piercing his flesh. Athynae had pinned him in place, and he was not going anywhere- except to whatever plane of Oblivion was reserved for his kind. His struggles slowed and finally stopped as the silver weapons completed their work. He hung limp and I glanced at Athynae. Her face might have been a mask carved of granite, but I could not stop myself from asking,

“Don’t you think that was bit… excessive?”

She continued to stare at the dead lycanthrope and replied, “Maybe. Those are six of my best stars.”

It seemed wise to save the discussion for a later time, so I looked at the object resting on the stand. A length of braided leather, reinforced with small silver bands, held a pair of wolf fangs and a pair of bear claws, ivory and black in the flickering torchlight. To mundane sight, it was a simple amulet, such as any hunter might craft and wear. But my blood reacted to something in the magic of the totem. It felt… older… than any other enchanted item I had ever encountered. It spoke of dark forests and deep snow, of a time when we weak humans were hunted at least as much as we were hunters. Satisfied that it was what we had come for, I carefully lifted the cord and dropped the totem into a leather bag. Though Korst considered me one of the Skaal, I would not presume to wear the artifact, especially when I did not know its powers.

I looked once more at the dead beast hanging from the wall. Perhaps Athynae’s actions had not been “excessive,” after all. We had completed the task Korst had given us, but I did not think we were finished. Athynae had turned to guard the entry while I examined the totem, and I watched her nostrils flare as she tested the air.

“Are there others?”

She nodded and held up four fingers. So. Although we had the totem, there was work still to be done. We could neither of us leave any of Hircine’s hounds roaming free. That understanding needed no words.

The harrowing of the tomb put the final touch on our pact to work together, relying on strengths and bolstering weaknesses without getting in each other’s way. It was not a perfect solution; I was concerned about Thyna’s night-blindness and her tendency to rush straight ahead without stopping to plan- or at least without bothering to inform me of what her plan might be. But we were no longer two individual warriors who happened to be in the same place at the same time- we had forged a new bond, one of shared blood and triumph.

When Athynae confirmed that the last werewolf was dead, I cleaned the Gift and handed her a bit of cloth to do the same for Dreamer.

“I will meet you back at the entry; I want to take care of some things.”

She quirked an eyebrow at me, but left the question unspoken. She knew that the tomb had only one exit, so there was no chance of my trying to head off on my own- even if I had intended to do so. What I had in mind was more grisly- making sure that the lycanthropes would never have a chance to harm anyone. For a number of reasons, I rarely used my magic in combat. First, because it was not easy to cast spells while encased in steel- especially not when I was also holding a mace in one hand and a shield in the other. Possibly I could have trained my eyebrows to make the necessary gestures, but I was not as adept with that language as Mother- or Athynae. However, when the situation permitted, I could use a basic fire spell to good effect- for example, to incinerate the bodies of all the werewolves. The odor of burnt fur and flesh was sickening in the narrow confines of the tomb, but not as much as the thought that my negligence might allow someone else to fall victim to the disease they carried. The last one I destroyed was in the chamber that had held the totem; and I performed one additional chore while I was there.

When I rejoined Athynae at the entrance to the tomb, I dropped her throwing stars into her hand with the remark, “Yours, I believe?”

Did you mean "a"? That's the problem with reading these stories too many times - little things like "I" and "a" tend to read alike!

Score for Athlain!

I actually have a character in a far different world who says that about her squad leader!

Spoken like a true partner. A certain pilus is nodding her head in total agreement!

Did you want a paragraph break after remark, ? Just wondered at the rather abrupt change here. That said, I wanted to stand up and salute Athlain right here. Julian's wanderings as a poor, recovering addict starting out with nothing has taught me a hard lesson about never letting good weapons go to waste (or leaving them behind). Especially as 'Thyna had said those were "six of her best stars."

I am so excited and happy to see both 'Thyna and Athlain posting again, and to see their story being continued. Their relationship isn't all smooth sailing, but it is built on solid rock, and this is where we get to see it. Never mind the slammed doors, the shouted F-word, the pouting and the pummeling. Right here we see that the two of them are inseparable. Mehrunes Dagon had better think twice about invading Tamriel with those two on the prowl (patrol?)!