So many updates....more wonderful than you guys ever can imagine...SO i've read and re-read....with the utmost pleasure. Then again this demands a proper comment..a real one not just some cliche or just telling nice things..well of course I WILL tell nice things because I enjoyed reading so much..but I still think I want to comment more serious...with quotes

THAT is why I wont do it just now....I need time and just now its faaaaaar beyond bedtime so....treydoggie my dear friend, you'll have to wait for the words of the Wise Woman...

Whatever do you mean?... ...My responses are now nothing but clichéd... ... ...

This alternating of POVs is really fun. Seeing the other side of things really makes me laugh...

I like hearing Athlain's frustration, but then remembering his "Any good fight is the one you walk away from" thing was excellent...

Loved the continued dungeon crawl, and removal of werewolves...The throwing stars pinning that one to the block was pretty awesome!!...There was a moment of applause, right there... ...

His sending Athynae out to wait for him while he disposed of the bodies was nice...A necessary task...If only to be sure of things...

An amazing update, loved it...Shockingly enough...

CLICHE ALERT!!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

No Mr Welsh-man your comments are funny and inspiring! I have a lot to learn....still working on a good'un

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.

Every step led to this thought. How very satisfying to read it! I love the way these moments grow so naturally through the story. *contented sigh*

@haute-Typo found and formatting error and fixed. That “I” for “a” bit is one of those… aphasia sorts of things for me. Athlain still remembers his “adventure” all those years ago and how much better it would have been with some company…. All the bruises from all the practices come in handy once they are faced with a real fight for their lives- at least as long as Athlain remembers… “TGIF”.

@minque- Always happy to know you are reading. Comments are welcome- but optional.

@McBadgere- If you like the alternating, you will get to see it in ONE post this time. I normally avoid that, but since this is the chapter ender- and it kinda… worked…. (shrug). Sometimes Athlain falls back into his “why do you always have to…” before he remembers the reason they are there. And for Athynae, it is very personal, given that Hircine made the terrible mistake of “taking an interest” in her.

@Grits- Although they battled “mundane” wolves together, this is really the first time the two have gone into a fight with a true unity of purpose. At last, all the years of training and bickering are reaching fruition.

And now for new story. Athynae and Athlain have obtained the Totem of Claw and Fang, which is necessary for some important Skaal ritual, and have left the tomb, with its cargo of (now dead) werewolves. In this post, we will start with Athynae and then switch to Athlain, and finally conclude with Athynae again. I have made typographic breaks to show the transitions, but wanted to mention it up front, as that is not the usual process. But I hope it works for this rare instance. Thanks to everyone for reading.

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

I stood at the exit of the tomb breathing deeply of the fresh, cool, untainted air trying to cleanse my nostrils of the putrid stench of werehounds and death. The briny smell of the sea was carried on the breeze and I felt myself drawn to the east, even if it was just for a few moments. I needed to touch the salty sea and let the sound of the water washing the shore do the same to my over-taxed brain. I heard Athlain's steps, but I smelled the horrid stench even before his footfalls registered. He exited the cave with one of the few things that had not changed, that quirky grin that always went with some sort of 'gift'.

“Yours I believe.” And he dropped my stars in my hand.

“You smell like burnt fur.” And I started off toward the shore.

“Um, Thyna?” He stammered a bit and I knew he was going to announce I was going the wrong way. I mean I was if the right way was to return the totem to Korst, but that wasn't my objective just this moment.

“No. I'm not; I'm going to the shore. I need a break from all the ‘do this, go there, kill beasts, and finish this quest all while you're hunting a stupid daedric prince so you can send him back to his own plane of Oblivion’.”

Athlain's expression was dark and drawn and he was working on the words to go with his thoughts. “Thyna, I don't think you should go alone.” His body stiffened as if he were waiting for me to punch him or something.

“OK.” And I rolled my eyes at his innate ability to always say the stupidest things. “I wasn't uninviting you; I was just informing you why I was going in a direction other than the one you expected.” And I turned away from him once again and started walking toward the clean scent of seawater. I felt as much as I heard when he fell in step behind me. He didn't say anything else and I got the feeling he needed a moment as much as I did. There was too much clouding my mind. I had never had difficulty concentrating and focusing until now. I knew I needed to put all of the 'stuff' that didn't have anything to do with finding and ending Hircine into a box with a latch and possibly a lock since it seemed to keep rearing up at the most inconvenient times.

It wasn't far to the shore but my mind was so distracted that it was like using a potion to travel. Only by the position of the sun could I tell that time had passed. And there it was, the waves, the smell- I don't know why, but I felt a physical response to the sight and smell. My heartbeat slowed and tense muscles relaxed. I got as close to the water as I could without getting saturated and just plopped down and drew my knees to my chest.

Athlain stopped at the tree line and stayed there for uncountable moments as I stared unthinking at the crashing tide. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply of the cleansing air, letting the musical rumbling sound penetrate as far as my mind would allow. As each wave broke upon the shore, I could feel it taking away some of the doubts that cluttered my brain. To keep Athlain safe, to finish all of this, I needed to be like the sea- ever changing, but always the same. Perhaps that sounded impossible, but that had never stopped me before.



Athynae was right, as she tended to be. I did smell of burnt fur, and blood and death, and dark places. And if she needed a moment, or a thousand moments, just to breathe the clean sea air and watch the waves- so did I. My life had become one battle after another, an unending series of tasks. I felt as if I had been pulled into the spinning heart of a Dwemer machine, mindlessly repeating actions that had long since lost any purpose or meaning. It was good to simply stop, to be, to stand on that rocky shore watching over the person I… My mind shied away from finishing that thought. Perhaps, if we survived what was still to come, there would be time for such an idea.

Of course, ‘Thyna might look at me as if I was addled. And perhaps I was. But looking at the lowering sun painting her cheek, striking glints from her hair, seeing the lavender wells of her eyes… If I was losing my mind, I did not want it back. For the moment, what I could give her was time… and silence. If we were trapped in the web of prophecy, it could bloody well wait for just a bit while we caught our breath.

When it became clear that we were going to be there a while, I removed most of my armor, leaving a quilted tunic, leather trousers, and boots. That was sufficient to combat the wind off the sea, and besides, cold had never bothered me all that much. With no conscious thought, I cleaned my armor, noting the places that would need greater attention at a smithy. I also scrubbed my face and arms in a tide pool, accepting the chill sting of the salt water in exchange for removing the odor of smoke and… less pleasant things. During that time, Athynae did not move, simply sat and watched the progression of waves rushing onto the shore and then retreating. When I had decided that my impromptu bath made me fit company once more, I dropped down beside her, keeping The Gift within easy reach. Just because we had paused to rest did not mean the myriad dangers of Solstheim had done the same.



I felt it when Athlain started moving toward me and I released my knees and placed my arms behind me to prop myself up on my hands. Athlain landed beside me, having removed some of the stiff pieces of armor that would have hampered his ability to 'plop'. I grinned a bit as I congratulated myself on my preference for leather armor, which did not prevent me from moving as I liked. He had also apparently washed off the smell of dead, burnt fur balls.

“Are you alright?” The timbre in his voice matched Uncle Trey's so closely I had to look to make sure it was still Athlain.

“Just clearing my head.” I turned my eyes back to the seascape.

“I'm just not accustomed to this side of you. It isn't like you to seem so distracted. Don't get me wrong- I don't think the distraction is affecting your ability any- just that you seem to be...” He stopped short when he realized I was staring at him. “There's something eating at you and I want you to know that you can talk to me about it.” It came out in a rush but I caught it.

“I know- I'm not sure how to explain what it is.” That was all I could offer because it was true; so much was still hidden from me, and it seemed the list was being added to with each step we took toward the end of Hircine's Hunt. We sat in silence until I asked him,

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like to have a simple life, Athlain? To be one of those people that just does their job and goes home, spends time with their family, reading books or playing games without a thought of the dangers they are protected from or fearful of the evil that exists in the world because they've never done anything to draw it to them? They live like their parents and grandparents and life just moves forward quietly, simply.” I pulled my hands back to my knees and crossed them to prop my chin.

“I cannot remember a single moment, ever, that I wasn't planning or training or fighting or plotting or explaining and right now I'm really not sure how long I can keep going like this. It has just occurred to me that I have never stopped, never slowed down, but now it's like I've gone from riding Lumhara to riding a cliff racer and it is doing nothing but speeding up and I can't slow it down. I can't make it stop. And I think there might be a mountainside ahead.”

“You'll get used to it. I did. This is what you were born for ‘Thyna; this is what you trained for since you were born. I still question whether I am meant to be here, how sound my judgment is. I think about how many other places I'd rather be and what else I could be doing. But at the end of the day, when I close my eyes, I am exactly where I am because it is where I am supposed to be. And right now I am so thankful that you are where you are supposed to be, too.” Again with the Uncle Trey voice, even his face showed the wisdom that brought those thoughts forth and it looked like the perfect blend of Trey and Baria.

“I'm sure I will, but right now it's tossing me around a bit more than I am comfortable with. And when did you become so wise- youngster?” It was time to lighten the mood; we were going down a road that I didn't want to travel. Not yet anyway. “I'm over a year older than you and you're trying to teach me about fate and destiny; how did that happen?” I pushed his shoulder and he smiled.

“Don't test me on the hand to hand Nay Nay; you might get another lesson from the wise one.” He actually looked at me as if he were challenging me.

“Oh, you think so? Well, it'll have to wait, because I'm just too tired right now and besides, it's getting ready to be dark so we either need to make camp or run all the way back.” I was talking, trying to keep my voice steady while I plotted how to start my attack. One thing I did know was a good wrestling match just for fun would cure a multitude of the symptoms that were plaguing this team. At least that was the way we had once lightened the tensions during particularly trying competitions.

I relaxed and tried to shift my weight unnoticeably and then I leapt, landing on Athlain and pinning him in the mix of rock and sand. “So what were you saying about lessons?” Athlain didn't squirm- he wasn't fighting for release, just smiling at me like the rat that got the cheese.

“I thought you were too tired. As usual, you cheated; now you have me at a disadvantage.” My hands had his arms locked above his head by the wrists and I realized he only had on his quilted tunic and trousers and sitting straddle of his torso it registered very profoundly that his once gaunt, stringy mid-section had been replaced, along with the boyish attitude. That was all the thought I had time for because I felt world shift and without realizing how I got there I was flat on my back, having been flipped over his head.
Meanwhile, he was on his feet, in an attack position, knees bent, arms out, ready for the melee. I rose and made an attempt at a foot sweep which he anticipated and jumped like a rope while he shot me a “ha”.

We stood face to face in almost identical stances, staring beyond each other. I realized then that fighting hand to hand with the one that has been your sparring partner most of your life puts you at a disadvantage because they know all of your tactics. How do you change your technique and surprise them?

He twitched, I reacted, incorrectly stupid, and once again I was prostrate on the beach. That did it. It was on because he had laid me out twice and that just would not do. I didn't mind him being my equal but, well, I had to answer his point with one of my own. Back in position I lunged forward and we locked arms, pushing against each other. Beneath my palms the muscles of his shoulders rippled and even through the quilting, the once sharp bones were now encased with the toned tight lines of muscles and tendons, solid proof that he had brought The Gift to bear against far more than a handful of adversaries.

I dipped my left knee and threw him off balance and rammed my shoulder into his chest, sending him backward into the tide. The frigid water rolled over his face and the splash soaked my leathers. The roar that emanated from him was beyond description and he shot out of the water like he'd been launched from a catapult, flying through the air headed straight for me. It was like some mythic sea beast had suddenly risen from the waves. My mind registered it, but for some reason that I cannot explain, my body would not move. I stood, rooted, watching the broad shoulders and muscular arms as they made contact with my midsection. I closed my eyes, waiting for the crash, knowing that all of the air would be pushed from my lungs and cause my head to swim.

But instead, I had the strange sensation of spinning and rather than landing on my back with the weight of another body crashing against me- I was laid, almost gently, atop the quilted tunic and the broad chest beneath it. And the arms that were wrapped tightly around me cradled me rather than grappling. Something happened, a feeling I'd never known; my body was drawn to it, but my instincts reacted differently and I jerked free, gaining my feet. It took great effort not to allow my reaction to proceed and send me fleeing into the darkening forest. The feeling was not fear; it was worse than fear; it was more discomforting than an unfamiliar dark place, and it made my head spin and my nerves fray. I was breathing in short, gasping breaths and my heart was beating wildly.

Athlain stood and faced me, dusting the sand from his clothing, “Are you alright?” His voice was schooled and sounded calm, but I could tell from the tension in his face that something had happened to him too.

“Honestly, I don't know.” The voice was mine but it sounded unfamiliar; the tone was off, flat, and I realized the answer was as truthful as anything I had ever uttered. “We need to make camp before the light is completely gone.”

“Athynae, I...,” he paused to gather the rest of the thought.

“You what?” I snapped. “You didn't think? You slipped on something? WHAT?! Spit it out.” I wanted to know why he had changed the attack. I wanted to know why he had made me feel soft. I wanted to know why he felt like tempered steel instead of…. No, I knew the answer to that; I'd been made fun of for the muscles in my arms most of my life, and it was a good thing no one ever saw my legs.... But he wasn't supposed to feel like that; he was supposed to be skinny with sharp elbows and knobby knees; he had changed everything by coming here to this cursed island.

“I noticed how dark it was getting and figured we needed to make camp instead of playing games.” And he turned toward his pile of armor without another word.

Here Ends Chapter 17

Oooh, my!

I've been in love with Athlain for a long time. But this - ooh! I need a fan!

I really enjoyed this interlude, and a nice, quiet one with tension of a different sort (the fun sort) to make all the bad stuff go away, if only for a little while.

In the midst of unrelenting dungeon delving and traveling to far off places, it's nice to just stop and take a breather. And this little episode does just that, not only for our couple but also for us, the readers.

Nice!

Awesome!!!...

Yes, very much did I enjoy the tow-fer that this part gave us...

Absolutely loved the seaside-ness of it...I could really picture meself there...And wish I was there too...Maybe not at the same time though...That would have been...Awkward... ...

Athynae's dawning realisation, from a purely womanly point of view, about how much Athlain had changed down the time he'd been away from her...And what that last wrestling match did for/to her was pure excellence, right there...

And then add Athlain's almost admission...Well...Just fantastic...

On so many levels this part was so brilliant...(It's simplicity; the twofer-ness; the moving on of the relationship; the seaside setting...+ some other indefinable swaggy stuff...)...And for those many reasons, it has to rank as amongst my favourite things from either of you...

Absolutely amazing...

Nice one!!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Ok so i will comment even if the thread gets mysteriously LOCKED! Mark my words..I DO NOT lock treydoggie's thread..so IF it gets locked just because I'm in it...well then we do have a mystery on our hands...

You see guys....somehow in the forum log....it says that I, minque, keeps on LOCKING this thread...It even happened when I wasn't even here

treydog...this part made chills run down my spine....I read breathless...just waiting for the..."special words" which never actually were outspoken but oh so well hidden between the lines..

Made me wonder if Thyna is a bit weird or just very much afraid of showing feelings..I mean FFS those two are in love with each other...I promise..they are! And that makes me just so happy!

What a wonderful end to the chapter! Athynae’s responses both metal and involuntary to her new awareness of Athlain were so very Athynae, but still familiar I expect to anyone who has had their eyes opened by a suddenly hot friend. I loved hearing from both of them in this post.

Athlain didn't squirm- he wasn't fighting for release, just smiling at me like the rat that got the cheese.

I really grinned here. This rat knows how to bait a trap.

Athynae doesn’t scratch her nose without a tactical plan, so I was not surprised that their roll in the surf was quickly followed by a tense exchange rather than leather armor discarded on top of Athlain’s pile. And thanks to Athlain’s unfinished thought earlier we know that he’s not admitting all of his feelings either. His uncertainty is understandable. Athynae is quick with a gruff reply. Their complicated dance continues to delight.

Where we are- well, there was all this stuff with work and broken heat pumps and life and… oh wait. Never mind. Where Athynae and Athlain are- they have recovered the Totem of Claw and Fang for Korst Wind-Eye, shaman of the Skaal. The shaman feels that the Totem is necessary to prepare for the approaching Bloodmoon, when Hircine will lead the Wild Hunt. In the midst of his complicated feelings for Athynae, Athlain must also try to find Captain Carius, who disappeared when werewolves attacked Fort Frostmoth. That is only one disappearance, as Tharsten Heartfang, the chieftain of the Skaal village, has also gone missing following a werewolf attack.

@haute- Thank you so much. Because they are so capable in other ways, I sometimes forget that the kids are still… well… kids. And neither one of them is quite prepared for all the feelings that have ambushed them.

@McB- It has been a treat to get to tell the story from more than one point of view- especially with two such strong personalities. Both Athynae (the writer) and I have strong ties to nature, and often go to those kinds of places for inspiration. Solstheim itself should be as much a character as any other “NPC” in the story. My humble thanks for your wonderful words.

@minque- Poor Athynae has trouble with anything that is not susceptible to a blade or a projectile… most especially something as nebulous as “feelings.” Other people have “feelings.” She has “strategies.” And- though she will never admit it- feelings are the one thing that scares her.

@Grits- Thank you thank you thank you. The situation puts me in mind of a friend of mine from high school who had no idea how attractive the young ladies found him. And of course, that was a large part of his charm…. Neither one of them is ready to admit to more than “friendship,” and both have the useful excuse of “responsibility” to hide behind. It will be interesting to see what happens when that is no longer the case…

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Life Among the Lycanthropes by Sigvard of Whiterun (a portion):

Even those deemed “monsters” by men and mer have their legends, their cultural memories… their nightmares. If one can win their confidence, they will speak of these things. A name that is only spoken reluctantly is “Dark Fang, the Bringer of Death.” She haunts the dreams of the werewolves. Hircine is their god; she is their demon.



At a time that was outside of time, in a place that was no place, some of the Daedric princes gathered to debate which of them had caused the greatest affliction to the mortals of the Mundus.

Mehrunes Dagon spoke first, “I am the bringer of destruction and war. I tempt these mortal worms with the desire for power.”

Vaermina whispered, “You are too obvious, Brother. I work in the shadows of mortal minds, turning their fears into dreams and their dreams into fear. They may fight for you or against you, but who can oppose sleep?”

Sheogorath complained, “Where is the cheese? I was told there would be cheese!”

Others offered up their own snares and schemes and methods to cause suffering amongst men and mer. But one was silent, seeming absorbed in the large tome whose pages he turned with slow, sensual avidity.

Boethiah looked to the silent prince and sneered, “And what place have you here, librarian?”

Hermaeus Mora closed his volume and placed his hands upon the cover. “I? I have done worse than all of you together. For I gave mortals… knowledge. They believe that knowing will bring happiness and contentment, but much which they learn causes sorrow. Still worse, knowing only brings a desire for greater knowledge. It is a thirst that they can never quench.”

Those assembled looked at one another and nodded, except for Sheogorath, who was building temple out of forks.



A conversation at Indarys Manor, Vvardenfell (a portion):

“Athlain, you know I would prefer that you do not get into a fight. However, if you must fight, fight to win. Good night son.”

“You have done well.”

Those were the first words Korst Wind-Eye spoke after his painstaking examination of the amulet we had brought back from the Tombs of Skaalara. The praise was a relief, as much for breaking the silence as because it confirmed that we had indeed retrieved the Totem of Claw and Fang. It was a silence that had followed Athynae and I from our camp by the shore all the way back to the Skaal village, broken only by the sound of our footsteps and the wind in the trees. I cannot say where Athynae’s thoughts carried her, but for myself, there was so much to consider that I had no concept of where to begin. It seemed better to let it rest. I did wonder if it was some jest of the gods, the fact that I found it more pleasant to confront dangerous monsters than my own feelings for someone I had known all my life.

So I was just as glad to watch as the shaman handled each ebony claw and ivory fang, then allowed his fingers to follow the leather cord to the clasp, which was in the form of a raven with an acorn in its beak. Korst’s attention was completely taken by the Totem. However, when his fingers brushed the wolf fangs, I saw the slight tightening around Athynae’s eyes, and her hand reaching toward the shoulder where the lycanthrope had bitten her. Not all wounds are visible, and not all scars are physical. Meanwhile, the shaman had placed the Totem on a stand at the center of his worktable.

“With the Totem of Claw and Fang restored to us, I can consult the All-Maker. The continued absence of Tharsten is of grave concern, but no more so than the disappearance of the herds. The Skaal fear that we have lost the favor of our creator. But that which has been lost may be regained.” He nodded at the Totem to illustrate his meaning. “The ceremony will take some time; however, I would ask that you stay nearby. My heart tells me that your part in all this is not finished.”

We stepped out into the village, and Athynae turned toward the cabin that she had used previously- the one that came to me with the title of “Blodskaal.” That suited me- I still had little desire to take over the home of a man who had been torn apart by wolves as a result of my judgment. And perhaps a little time apart would allow me to bring some order to my thinking.

No- probably not. Athynae did not have to be present to disconcert me or cloud my thinking. If she suffered a similar problem, it did not show; something in her expression told me that she intended to engage in a long session of potion making. I considered imposing on Lassnr once more, but I did not want to be indoors. Something of the darkness from the Tombs of Skaalara had followed me, and I hoped clean air and clear skies would provide some relief.



Time passed, as it does, and I was no nearer to finding answers. The only path I could see was shadowed by uncertainty. All that I was sure of was that I must walk that path, and that I wanted Athynae to walk it with me- no matter where it might lead. Finally, one of the Skaal guards approached me and indicated that Korst was ready. When Athynae and I entered the shaman’s house, he announced, “It is time to perform the Ristaag. In this way, we will ensure that the All-Maker smiles upon his children.” He inclined his head to us and added, “As those who restored the Totem, you will participate, of course.”

I could see clouds gathering on Athynae’s brow and so cut in quickly, before the storm could be unleashed.

“Forgive me, Korst, but what exactly is this ‘Ristaag’? We are neither of us well-versed in the lore of the Skaal.”

“It is a ceremonial hunt for the Spirit Bear, which I will summon using the Totem of Claw and Fang. A successful hunt will ensure that the All-Maker looks kindly upon the Skaal.”

“Well,” I began, “that doesn’t sound too….”

“Yes,” continued the shaman, “Rolf Long-Tooth will lead the hunt- tonight. You will meet him on the west shore of Lake Fjalding at dusk.”

Athynae could not contain herself any longer. “So. You propose that we go out- at night- into the wilds- to hunt a bear that may or may not be there- while Hircine’s … creatures… are prowling about?”

She paused for a moment and then shrugged, “At least there are a lot of Skaal hunters, so that might help. Hircine’s hounds are not likely to attack a group…”

She trailed off as Korst shook his head. “No. That is not the way of the Ristaag. There will be five hunters, as there are five claws on the paw of the bear. Because you two are new to the ritual, you will stay with Rolf. The others will choose their own paths. Each will find his or her own way, trusting their skills and the guidance of the All-Maker . That is….”

“Stupid!” Athynae exploded.

Korst’s eyes glinted a bit, but he kept his voice even. “Perhaps it appears so to you, but it is also our tradition.” He paused and then bowed his head toward Athynae, a surprising sign of reverence. “It is important that you participate, although the reason is not clear to me. I only know that the spirit bear’s essence is closely linked to your own.”

I was not the only one who saw ‘Thyna’s skepticism. Korst glanced at the window to gauge the time before he explained:

“Each of us is connected to a spirit animal, some more strongly than others. Our spirit animals serve as guides and as protectors. They also lend us some of their attributes. The bear embodies courage, strength, and nurturing. It is also a symbol of resurrection and of duality.”

Athynae still appeared doubtful, but I felt it was more stubbornness than actual disbelief. And as I looked at her, I seemed to see a larger shadow looming behind her, a shadow with the broad, blunt shape of a great bear. As I studied her folded arms and set jaw, another, more whimsical thought came to me, one I decided to keep to myself. Much like the bear, Athynae Sarethi was well-known for being ill-tempered when roused from slumber.

A name that is only spoken reluctantly is “Dark Fang, the Bringer of Death.” She haunts the dreams of the werewolves. Hircine is their god; she is their demon.

Hmm…

I considered imposing on Lassnr once more, but I did not want to be indoors. Something of the darkness from the Tombs of Skaalara had followed me, and I hoped clean air and clear skies would provide some relief.

These lines spoke to the heart with perfect clarity. I know that feeling exactly. (Er, not about tombs, specifically, but yeah.)

I love the image of Athynae’s stubborn pose as a standing bear. The last line was a treat!

Wow.... I didn't realise Trey's story had been expanded so much since the last time I read the series. I can't wait to catch up. One of the very best Morrowind novels, ever.

Trey's adventures are actually what inspired me to register and post today, I've only ever really lurked before. Since I would really love to start rereading this story right from Trey's humble Morrowind beginnings, I'm wondering if chapters 1-8 are still available. I keep receiving error messages every time I click on Fan Forge.... Is this an issue on my end, or has something happened to Fan Forge? I tried to search on this topic, but I don't think I'm able to use the Search function yet.. I am receiving a message I don't have permission. I also poured through all of the forums that seemed most likely to house those missing chapters, but I didn't see anything.

My apologies, I don't want to intrude too much into this story thread, but I wasn't sure where else to post.. since I can't yet create my own threads.

I think that is now defunct since we changed servers a couple years ago; but you can still read Treydog's stories here - go to the main forum page, look for the "Fan Fiction" forum. Click on that; then look at the very top of the page that opens up. Find the "Writer's Sub-forum" for archived fictions, you will see Treydog's name. If you click on his name, you will be able to access Treydog's story from beginning to the current chapters.

Welcome to the forums!

Thanks for the welcome and reply
Sadly, clicking on Treydrog's subforum (http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?showforum=53) only provides from chapter 10 onwards. Treydog mentions at the beginning of chapter 10 that due to his previous work having been compiled in Fan Forge, he wouldn't repeat himself.... Hopefully the earlier chapters haven't been lost...

Have you tried at the official forums? He (Treydog) was posting it on another forum, but I went and looked for it there and that forum has been closed, moved to another URL. I tried the new URL, but he never started it back up on that one.

On this site try Blackie's or Helena's too, both take place in Morrowind.

Oh gosh.... (blushes). Thank you so much ArtemisNoir2!

Um... yeah when the Fan Forge was.... there... I did not want to spam the forum (much). So I let the early chapters rest there. I still have them and could post...?

Thank you again and welcome to this excellent place. Many good stories here. Read and enjoy.

I just noticed that you have started to place the earlier Trey chapters in your subforum, thanks so much! Yes please do place them all there if you feel so inclined. It has been a long time since I've read them, and I'd love to go back and delve into them again.
Cheers for the welcome!

Apologies for taking over a year (gulp) to say anything new here. I hope the following tale of winter finds each of you warm and safe in your homes, surrounded by those you love.

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The dagger was steady in Athynae’s hand, the point angled toward the great vein in Korst’s throat as she hissed at the Skaal shaman, “You knew. “You knew that they were going to their deaths. And you did nothing. Worse than that, you… encouraged this madness. And you made me a part of it.”

Korst’s calm amazed me. He held Athynae’s eyes with his own, never once glancing at the blade that could spill his life.

“All I knew was that the All-Maker required us to perform the Ristaag, and that you and Athlain take part in it. Our hunters face the possibility of death every time they venture out. That is part of what it means to be Skaal- to be unflinching in the face of danger. More than that, Solstheim is not our home; it is only a place of testing.”

He paused and turned his gaze to me.

“Ask Athlain of the Legion what happens when one of his comrades falls in battle. Do the others falter? Do they cease to be warriors? Or do they press forward, making certain that the sacrifice is not in vain?”

I could not answer immediately. My eyes were locked on the silver blade and the reflected flames that danced in its depths, reminding me of torches gleaming in the snow-covered forest many miles from the village. Flames, and snow, and bright red blood….

But even in her anger, Athynae was controlled. She stepped back, sliding the dagger back into her boot and waving her other hand at me.

“You tell it. I had to live through the stupidity; if I have to describe it, I won’t be held responsible.”

So, while Athynae prowled the small space of Korst’s house, I recalled the events of the previous night. Many thoughts that passed through my mind remained locked behind my lips

“Despite the rather vague directions,” I paused long enough to allow the shaman to acknowledge the truth of my indictment, “we found Rolf Long-Tooth without much trouble.”



“You will meet Rolf Long-Tooth on the west shore of Lake Fjalding.”

That was all the guidance Korst Wind-Eye had given us. Considering that the lake stretched a great distance from north to south, I was inclined to argue, but ‘Thyna grasped my arm and drew me away. “We will find them. I will find them. I have a certain… talent… for such things now.”

That was enough to silence my protests, and I simply bowed my head in acquiescence.

In the end, the Skaal hunters were easy enough to find, even without any particular skills, as their torches shone like three suns in the dark forest- or like beacons calling… I decided I didn’t want to think about what they might be calling . Athynae made a sound somewhere between a sigh of resignation and a snort of derision. To the uninitiated, it might have sounded like an asthmatic wheeze, but I was well-versed in ‘Thyna’s mannerisms, so I read the meaning plainly.

Hunting at night- with torches? Really? How these people manage to get out of bed in the morning is a mystery. And oh, by the way, it isn’t doing much for my night blindness, either.

Or maybe it just meant the smoke from the brands irritated her throat- I have been accused of having too much imagination.

Athynae’s first and only words since our trek began dispelled my doubts, “What is this- a tea party? Who ever heard of hunting with torches?”

I looked to see if Senior Trooper Carbo had suddenly stepped out of the trees. Although I was often on the receiving end of my lifelong friend’s acerbic remarks, she hardly ever spoke her mind to strangers.

The leader, Rolf Long-Tooth, gave no indication that he was offended, instead waving a hand at the other hunters.

“That fellow with the bear-paw tattoo across his face is Sattir the Bold. A good hunter, and I am honored to have him with us. And the flame-haired wench is Grerid Axe-Wife. Don’t let her dour look put you off; she is also an excellent companion and an experienced hunter.”

I took Rolf’s word for it, even though Grerid had punched him in the ribs when he used the word “wench”. However, she smiled at Athynae and me and said,

“Pay no attention to the lout. He has spent so much time outdoors, he’s more like a horker than a hunter. Especially given the way he smells….”

The banter among old friends was a relief; I knew we were outsiders, regardless of what Korst might believe. But even as I relaxed, thankful for their ready acceptance, I noticed that Athynae was still ill at ease. There was no time for a private conversation though, for she moved off by herself as soon as Rolf explained that the hunt must begin under the light of the moon, and that we would wait until it was fully up.

The darkness brought a silence over the forest, broken only by the wind sighing through the trees. It was a sound peculiar to Solstheim, an effect of the dense needles on the branches. At least the scientific part of my mind told me that was the cause. The more fanciful part, the part that made me stay close to the light of the torches, said that the trees whispered to one another, telling secrets as old as time itself. What Athynae heard or thought, I could not discern, but whatever it was did not please her. Her lips were set in a grim line and her hands maintained contact with sword or dagger at all times. Her silence was like a second set of armor, warning Rolf and the other hunters to keep their distance. The only other people I had known who could be that intimidating simply standing still were Sethyas Velas… and my father.

Secunda at last cleared the horizon and began to glimmer in the lower branches of the trees, sliding in and out of the clouds. When she had at last cleared the treetops, Rolf lifted up a leather bag marked with Nordish runes and symbols.

“You are called here to participate in a ceremony vital to the Skaal. With the Ristaag, we will ensure that the All-Maker smiles upon His children. Tonight, we seek the Spirit Bear! By tradition, each of you will reach into this pouch and take a stone. They are marked with symbols of power and significance. The symbols will determine the order in which the hunters go out. As leader of the hunt, my place will be to finish only if all the others are unsuccessful.”

He looked doubtfully at Athynae and me, as if unsure how to handle the presence of two who were not of the Skaal.

“I know Korst asked you to be here, but…,” he trailed off, clearly not wishing to give offense.

Athynae spoke for the first time since her remark about the torches, and her eyes glowed with a peculiar light.

“I will choose for both of us.” She placed a hand on my shoulder. “We will not be separated, not tonight, not tomorrow, not until this… business… is finished.”

Rolf dipped his head in agreement, for there was no arguing with that tone. He motioned Sattir, Grerid, and Athynae forward, each of whom dipped a hand into the bag, and brought it forth again. Then he intoned a brief prayer for strength and guidance, closing with a request that each hunter reveal their token. Grerid opened her fist to show a white stone marked with the head of a stag. Sattir’s symbol was a match to the tattoo across his features, the paw of the bear. Athynae’s round white stone showed a raven in profile, its clever eye seeming to look out at us.

“And so we are ordered, as the All-Maker has decided. Sattir will have the honor of going first, bringing the spirit bear to this realm. Grerid will be second, acting as the lure for our quarry. And Athynae will provide her wisdom to us all.”

I could tell Athynae did not like the arrangement; she preferred going first whenever possible. But she also seemed to think that she had pushed things as far as she could by insisting that she and I would stay together. So she was silent, but it was a silence that spoke volumes. And then….

Well that was utterly awesome!... ...

Fair dues...Athynae's gotten a bit...Narked...These days, eh?... ...

Proper excellent to see a new post...

Moarrrr etc... ...

Nice one Matey!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

I am thinking Athynae's wisdom might be to slit Korst's throat!

Good to see more of Athlain and company back again.

I love the way you began the story of the Ristaag. Athlain and Athynae’s tale is a joy to read. I’m thrilled to have this new part to savor.

@McBadgere- Yes- she is slightly more... irritable than usual. May need to up the dose of hackle-lo tea... Thank you my friend. And more to come....

@SubRosa- Yes, she is just a trifle annoyed about certain aspects of the Ristaag being withheld from her.... Thank you for reading.

@Grits- Many thanks. Although this part of the story has been long in the writing, I hope all the time has made it that much better for my readers.

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The story was finished now, including my part in it, even if I would have preferred not to have had a part. And suddenly, the shaman’s house was too small, too stuffy. I could feel my senses being overwhelmed by the usually comforting scents of drying ingredients, the smoke from the fire, even the lavender Athlain wore at my insistence. I needed air; I needed to be alone; I needed a place where I could think. Without a word I left the cabin, wondering where I could find somewhere that I did not have to worry that every sound or shadow was something trying to eat me.

I walked through the forest outside the village knowing it was probably stupid for me to wander off on my own. But then a faint sound overhead drew my eyes upward, and the bird perched high in the evergreen made me smile.

“Thank you winged one, Will you share your perch with me?”

I climbed as high as the branches would allow and found a nice roost that allowed me to sit with my back to the tree and a limb on my right side at just the right height to rest my arm. The morning sun was still low enough in the sky that it provided light without blinding me and I did my best to match my breathing to the slow, solid pulse of the tree that sheltered me. Roots in the ground, head in the clouds. Think long thoughts as the seasons turn. Sun, snow, wind, and rain. Each has its place and its time, as do I.

Throwing rocks at a shaman? Mother would have been even more disappointed than usual. But it was only one rock, and a small one at that. And I had been provoked; besides which, I missed- well, mostly- so it wasn’t as if any real harm had been done. Of course, I had also drawn my dagger and held it to his throat. But the idea that anyone had died so that I could succeed was not just... stupid... it was beyond stupid. It was wrong.

I leaned back and recalled the events of the previous night, reviewing all that had happened, wishing somehow I could change the outcome, or at least find some meaning in it.



Athlain paused as he told the story. I think some of it was because he didn’t want to remember what happened next. And some of it was because he actually did not know. But I did, and I could not be silent any longer, so I picked up the thread. If I repeated some of what he had said, that was just too bad. And if there were parts I kept to myself, so be it. It was my story, too, and I would tell it my way. If the shaman didn’t like it, he could lump it- like the lump I had almost put on his head.

The west shore of Lake Fjalding...it's not like north and south are remotely close to one another or anything.

But there was something that told me that, despite everything else bordering on the ridiculous, they would not be difficult to find. After all, I had my “enhanced” senses, the ones I didn’t even like to think about. The way I could see the pulse beating in Athlain’s neck... No! At least he had listened to me and was still using the lavender scent.

We hiked through the woods in silence, except for the trees singing a song I had come to loathe, a song I almost understood. It was a song of pending doom, telling the tale to each other of how the two young fools from Vvardenfell thought they could best Hircine. How we would win all the small battles only to lose the war. But you don't get it. I do not lose! I have not taken part in all of this stupidity just to meet my end! I wanted to sing in their language, to let them know they at the very least needed to keep the optional ending open, that there was a possibility that I...we, would succeed.

My nerves were tingling, my senses alert as we rounded a bend and saw- what else? Fire light, torches bright enough to rival the sun. I couldn't help the sound of surrender that escaped my lungs. How had these people survived so long? And if they expected me to go traipsing through the woods with a torch, in search of some great stupid bear they'd really lost their minds. I couldn't see as it was and the fire only made it worse.

“What is this? A tea party? Who ever heard of hunting with torches?” The sarcasm was dripping from my words like drool from the mouth of a werebeast. It didn't really occur to me until after the words were spoken that I didn't know these people and they didn't know me. Somewhere in me a small regret formed, but it was easily battered into submission. After all, I was right.

The leader of the party was Rolf Long-Tooth, who introduced us to the other two. Sattir the Bold had a bear paw tattoo across his face, and although it wasn't something I planned to do to myself, I thought it quite impressive. Grerid Axe-Wife looked as though her face had been stretched on a tanning frame and not properly treated before being put back where it was supposed to be; her wrinkles had wrinkles, but her eyes were as crisp and clear as a cold morning. Her voice was not as old as her wrinkles either. She and I had something sort of connection; I only hoped it wasn't the dark cloud that seemed to shadow her head.
Rolf explained that the hunt would begin once the moon crested the trees, so I separated myself from the group just far enough out of the circle of light that it didn't impede my senses as much. I needed to feel and smell the air, while keeping watch over the troop of stupid...and Athlain.

My hands were following their own beat, playing almost to the song of the trees. Right hand, katana hilt, left hand dagger, right hand poisoned dart left hand throwing star. And so it went until the light of the moon was no longer hindered by the boughs of the trees.

Rolf raised a leather pouch covered with runes and explained that we had to each pick a stone from within to know the order of the hunt. He looked at Athlain and me doubtfully,

“I know that Korst asked you to be here...”

And before he could say something that I would feel the need to dispute, I replied, “I will choose for both of us. We will not be separated, not tonight, not tomorrow, not until this...business...is finished.”

There was no room for discussion on this matter. I had not chosen to be part of this stupidity; I was only doing it because Athlain had bound himself to these people and I was trying very hard to honor that. And it also appeared that these folk needed a keeper as much as Athlain did.

The three of us each reached into the bag and pulled out a runestone. We closed our fists around the stones and held them until Rolf had shared a brief prayer for strength and guidance. We then unfurled our fingers to reveal what we had extracted. A raven head marked the stone in my hand; Sattir's matched the mark on his face; and Grerid held the stag. Rolf then explained that Sattir would be the first to head out, then Grerid and finally me.... Well, Athlain and me. I really wasn't forgetting him- I just wished I didn't have to remember he was with me, instead of somewhere safe, like maybe locked up in a tower, guarded by Uriel Septim’s most capable Blades.

Sattir made eye contact with each of us individually and as his eyes met mine we both knew he was going to his death. He was not nervous; he did not falter, and I tried to infuse through my own gaze whatever I had that he might need. He nodded once, then turned on his heel and marched into the woods with his torch. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs about the torch but I knew it was futile; they were doing what they had done for however many generations and no matter that I thought it was stupid...they would continue. Azura save us from people and their blasted traditions!

Rolf led us away from the clearing shortly after Sattir departed. I followed as far back as I could, as far out of the circle of light as I could get without being so far I couldn't react if one of the hideous beasts I knew was prowling the darkness decided to make itself known. We had not traveled far when we heard a scream and I knew...I felt Sattir's soul being ripped from his body. We turned toward the sound, but by the time we arrived the deed was done and Sattir's mangled bloody body was discarded like scraps. And anger was all I could find inside.

And it didn’t matter to Rolf or to Grerid. As she made her departure, I could almost swear there was the slightest smile behind all the wrinkles. These people are not only stupid; they’re crazy.

Rolf started off at an angle from Grerid's direction and I was lagging the same as before, but my mind didn't seem to be wandering quite so much, like it knew even before I did that my time would soon come to take part in this ritual of stupidity. The scream from Grerid’s direction made my skin crawl. There was something different about the screams of someone being torn apart by werewolves. You didn't just hear it, you felt it, you tasted it...it permeated every pore and exploded into your mind and enveloped every thought. I didn't even give the other two a chance to think as I shouted, “This way!” I knew that we wouldn't reach her in time, but I couldn't help but hope. Just to the east we found her in the same condition we had found Sattir and my blood ran cold. I clenched my teeth to the point of merging them and just stared at Rolf.

He didn't hesitate when he relinquished leadership of the quest to me. I held the final stone, the wisdom. It nearly made me laugh. If wisdom had any part in this, we would all be somewhere safe, drinking tea. But now, two people who I had barely known were dead, and somehow I felt it was my fault. I knew that they had to follow their traditions and the guidance of their gods, but it was becoming more and more difficult for me to accept this obligation. Rolf’s willingness to let me lead didn’t make me happy, but I also was not sorry.

“If I am taking over, you must extinguish that magnetic flame. You might as well be screaming, 'Here we are; come and get us'.”

Rolf did as I asked without question and Athlain looked as if he were going to say something about my tone, but he swallowed whatever words had been on his tongue. It was a good thing because it was not the time to test my patience.

I closed my eyes and lifted my head and drew in a long, slow breath, thankful for the darkness so my senses could work more effectively, searching for that smell that I had come to know and despise.

“Follow me, watch my hands, and for all that's holy, keep your feet silent.” Athlain's lip quirked to the side...as if he was saying to himself, “Yep, that's the Athynae I know.”

I didn't want the responsibility of two other people while fighting feral beasts and searching for some giant white bear, but sometimes we don't get to choose our lot. It still amazed me how quietly Athlain could move in that overweight dinner plate he called armor and while Rolf was not as quiet as I would have liked, he wasn't stomping through the brush either.

As we rounded a bend, my hand flew to the hilt of Dreamer, a move completed without thought, purely based on instinct. And it was well that I did, for three werewolves lunged at us from the darkness, eyes glowing like six malevolent moons. I completed my draw, arcing Dreamer over my shoulder and almost to the ground, splitting one of them into two practically equal halves from shoulder to hip. Athlain was also moving, and pulverized the head of the second like he was pounding a horseshoe on an anvil. My gaze flicked to Rolf, who was trying to fight without a visible weapon, hand-to-hand combat- against a werewolf? My left hand reached behind my ear and I flipped a poisoned dart into the hollow at the base of beast’s skull striking the middle of his spine. The poison was almost instant and he wilted like a flower without water.

Rolf looked almost disappointed, until I told him, “It wasn't your time. You are a great warrior and are still needed here.” I don't know what made me say that, but it seemed to take the disappointment from his visage.

Yeeeeeessss...*Fist pumps air, bringing down a low flying pigeon with a surprised squawk...*...

*The pigeon wasn't impressed either...*...

Ba-Bum-TISH!...

Aaaamywho...

Proper loved this...

Oooh, Athynae's a bit angry, is she not?...

I know the feeling of being desperate to save everyone in these games...And so it would likely be were I to be dragged into these worlds in some bizzare magical accident like them kids in the Dungeons And Dragons cartoon years ago...

Oooh...That red-headed thief wench...Boots...

*Several minutes later*...

*Slaps self*...

So...The story...

Yes...



Mother?... ...



...



...No...Wait... ....

Fair dues...That's just a properly awesome bit of writing, right there...I proper love it hugely...

Always excellent to read more of this story...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

I just loved the description of Grerid Axe-Wife!

...somewhere safe, like maybe locked up in a tower, guarded by Uriel Septims most capable Blades.

That made me grin!

This segment was full of beautiful moments like the silent look exchanged between Athynae and Sattir. It’s wonderful to get Athynae’s thoughts after watching her through Athlain’s eyes in his version of events. I love this story. Every update is worth waiting however long it takes.

With Sattir and Grerid gone, it was up to Athynae- and me- to find the spirit bear. But I had no idea how to proceed. How did you track a creature that was not of the mundane world? What signs should we seek? I began to ask those questions, but Athynae raised a hand to silence me.

“Follow me, watch my hands, and for all that's holy keep your feet silent.”

Though it was not her intention, her words gave me comfort. I felt my mouth twitch into an almost-smile as the Athynae I knew so well asserted herself. She was in command, so all was right with the world. Well, as right as it could be in a dark forest, far from home, with fanged horrors stalking us…

When the clash with the werewolves came, it was almost anticlimactic, although the rapid beating of my heart told me differently. Even Rolf Long-Tooth was impressed with our precision; I heard him mutter, “And this is why the All-Maker decreed it so.”

But almost before the last beast had hit the ground, Athynae began moving, following a path that only she could see. We followed a few steps behind, looking for some indication that the spirit bear was near. Just as suddenly as she had started, Athynae stopped in a small clearing, her gaze sharpening on some indeterminate point in front of her. An aura enveloped her still figure and I reached a hand out to touch her, only to have Rolf pull me back. He shook his head and whispered,

“She walks now in the realm of the spirit. You cannot follow. It is our place to wait and watch.”

Within the space of perhaps two slow breaths, Athynae’s body shook once, as if overtaken by a chill, and then she turned back to us, holding an object in her hand. It was the heart of a great bear, and it beat once and then was still.

Rolf touched his hand to his own heart and bowed his head to Athynae, then became brisk.

“You must go now. Take the heart back to Korst Wind-Eye before the sun shows his face in the eastern sky. I will stay and take care of Grerid and Sattir. It is my task, as completion of the Ristaag is yours.”

There was no time to argue; we hastened back to the Skaal village and the waiting shaman. He stood outside his hut and swept us with a sharp gaze, seeming to read all the events of the hunt in a few seconds. He opened the door and waved us inside, saying as he did so:

“Two have failed that two might succeed. This is as it must be. It is the way of nature- and of the Skaal- that the strongest take their rightful place.”

And then, as was often the case with Athynae, a great many things seemed to happen at once. Her left hand hurled the lottery rune at the shaman’s head, its passage so close that it whipped a lock of his hair before rebounding from the wall of his cabin. But the stone’s passage was followed immediately by ‘Thyna herself, drawing the dagger from her boot as she completed the throw. Then that same dagger stopped just short of piercing Korst’s throat.


And now the tale was told, Athynae’s part as well as my own. If there were things she kept to herself, that was her business; she had been through an experience that she was still struggling to understand. I knew that the deaths of Sattir and Grerid weighed upon her, that she felt they would have lived if only she had been faster, smarter, better. So, when she turned and left the cabin, I did not follow immediately. Sometimes, the greatest gift to give someone for whom you care is solitude. I did, however, bend to retrieve the rune from the floor, knowing she would someday wish to have it. For my own part, I wondered what had passed when Athynae “walked in the spirit realm,” as Rolf had put it. Had that eternal moment between one breath and the next left some unseen mark upon her? Might she be drawn into that place again, perhaps against her will? And what if the entity that called her was less benign than the Spirit Bear had been?

I left Korst to his ritual, though I normally would have been intrigued to watch him work with the heart of the Bear and the Totem of Claw and Fang. But at that moment, I needed something tangible; I had seen enough mysticism the previous night to last a while.

The sun was just a hands-breadth above the horizon, and the shadows of the Skaal houses stretched far across the snow. Avoiding those dark patches, I found a bench where the morning light fell upon my face and I leaned back against the wall and wondered how it had come to this, the two of us designated as the champions of a Nordic clan. And what of my duty to the Legion? It was hard to remember sometimes, but it was the search for my commander that had brought me here. But the man who might have given me answers, the chieftain of the Skaal, had himself gone missing. And werewolves, creatures of myth and nightmare, had proved to be real. I could feel myself slipping into panic as all the various responsibilities and needs inundated my mind. But before the current of madness swept me away, I recalled a calming voice:

“Son, the most complex problems are simple, as long as you understand one thing.”

“And what is that one thing?”

“Ah, there is the secret. It is never the same thing; it is just one thing. Find the one thing that you know, the one thing that you need to do first, and do that. Then, do one thing more. And so on. So now, what is the one thing?”

My eyes opened and I stirred from the bench. Athynae. She was what mattered. She was the “one thing.” She was the key to the riddle that lay before us. However it had come about, whatever forces moved behind the scenes, it had been given to the two of us to follow this path to the end- together.

When I found her, perched in a tree, I did not speak any of those thoughts however. ‘Thyna herself was usually so serious that I felt compelled to respond with humor- which usually resulted in an elbow to my ribs or a cool stare that said, “I do not find you amusing.” But- there was quite often just the slightest upward curve of her lips or a widening of her eyes before she assumed her “serious” expression. The challenge that was ever before me was to startle her into full-blown laughter, a feat I was only rarely able to accomplish. And she usually covered her “lapse” by pummeling me- so it was ever a perilous pastime. But, since she was ensconced in a tree, I felt that I was physically safe, and besides, the only joke I had at the ready was a weak one:

“When the Skaal told me they had spotted a red-headed tree elf outside the village, I had to come see for myself.”

As always I am stunned, but also I feel a hunch of inspiration.."hmm yeah, Anyway I am looking forward to learn more about the relationship between Athynae and Athlain. That is very thrilling, even though I know, or rather hope that somethings gonna come out of it.....

Wait...What?...I have read the other half of this...Um...This would confuse a stupid person...

Aaaaamywho...Well that was bleedin' awesome matey!!...Absolutely loved this!!...Such an excellent story...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

First, apologies for failing to acknowledge my faithful readers. I was so pleased to finally have a new post ready that I just… posted. Bad doggie.

@McBadgere- Got to watch those low-flying pigeons- and red-headed thieves too. Yes- those last definitely need careful watching… what? Oh- yes.

Credit to my co-author for the excellent descriptive writing regarding the …. Ritual sacrifices… um… other participants in the ceremony.

Trying to keep up with the volleying between the A and A team is enough to give a tennis referee whiplash… but some parts of the story get… doubled… because there is just too much good material there to leave it to Athlain to tell. Besides, according to Athynae, he mostly “gets it wrong” anyway. Or at least, misses the important bits.

And the part you have seen is now posting below- so you are not losing your marbles- probably.

@Grits- Thank you so much. Your descriptions of people and events are a constant reminder to me- and an incentive to “get things right.” As noted above, the descriptions of the Skaal in the Ristaag are from my able other author, who did most excellent work. And giving Athynae her own voice has been… more rewarding than I can express.

@minque- The path the two A’s must follow is fraught, and they are so focused on what seems “important” that neither one recognizes what has been blindingly obvious to everyone around them for some time. And it is so grand to see you back!

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

Athynae turned her head to regard me, and only then did I notice the russet form sitting on a branch a few feet away from her. Two pairs of eyes- one lavender and the other golden- pinned me with identical raptor stares. I felt rather like a plump rodent caught in the open. Maximus rattus mortuus. Then the hawk uttered a single sharp cry and took wing, spiraling upward and into the blue sky. Following suit, ‘Thyna rose from her place and stepped into empty air some 30 feet above the ground.

Ever since that long ago day when I had tumbled from a balcony of Sarethi Manor, our respective parents had made sure that we would take no harm from falling. We were each given rings imbued with a slow-falling enchantment, along with an extensive lecture on their use and an even longer listing of all the things we were not supposed to be doing to put ourselves in peril in the first place. I think our mothers intended the list to be comprehensive, but they failed to fully grasp the ingenuity of children bent on “adventure.” However, they did try to cover every possibility with a final admonition that no amount of magic would render us immortal- or proof against their righteous parental wrath.

Which did nothing to prevent the catch in my breathing as Athynae took that first step into the void. As she drifted safely down to the ground before me, I began to say something about her penchant for the dramatic. But her slightly raised eyebrow stopped the words before they reached my tongue. I knew, whatever I said, she would reply that it was “the fastest way down.” So many of our “conversations” were just that way- some sort of sub-vocal protest on my part, deflected or deterred by an expression or small gesture from ‘Thyna. We knew the dance so well that we often skipped the steps and just went straight to the bow and curtsy at the end. It saved time.

Still, it would not do to let her feel that she had won an easy victory, so I moved to something else. I raised the hand in which I held the rune she had tried to embed in Korst’s skull. No. To be scrupulously honest, she had not. Athynae never missed a throw at that distance- unless she had intended to- meaning it was not a “miss” at all. Nevertheless, I held the stone just out of her reach as I said,

“I thought you might want this back, but only if you promise not to brain anyone with it.”

Normally, when I tried to play “keep away,” Athynae would jab me under the ribs and take whatever I was holding when I doubled over. But, true to her changeable nature, this time she just held out her hand, noting dryly,

“Thank you, but I can’t make any promises. Especially when there hasn’t been much indication of any brains being used recently.”

But her final acerbic comment was almost lost in the roaring sound that flooded my ears as I looked at her palm. In truth, I had been paying more attention to her hands than her words anyway- always a good idea when dealing with Athynae, which was why I noticed what I at first took to be a smudge on her left palm. But then my eyes focused, and I brought the stone down to where I could see it, as well. And then my gaze ticked rapidly from stone to hand to stone and back again. It was the stone she had held tightly all the long way back from the Ristaag, the stone she had flung at the shaman’s head. And when she had drawn that stone, it had borne the sign of the Raven- I had seen it myself. But now, it bore a different mark- a mark that was duplicated in the palm of Athynae’s hand- the Skaal symbol for the Bear.



Athynae had grown amused by my stunned silence, a reaction my feeble jokes had not managed to evoke. Of course, she still had not seen the symbol that decorated her palm. She quirked an eyebrow and said,

“You’re going to start catching flies. What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen an elf.”

The variation of the old Nordish jest was enough to shake me out of my reverie, but I still felt as though I stood on the crumbling edge of a cliff. I needed to say something, but my usual facility with words had abandoned me.

“So… during the Ristaag… you drew the Raven stone, yes?”

‘Thyna snorted and tossed her head. “Right. Because I was supposed to ‘carry the wisdom.’ As if that made any sense during that entire episode of stupid.”

“Um. And back when you… ah… changed your hair,” I rushed ahead, because my initial reaction to her new hair color was still something of a sore point between us. “You didn’t have anything else done? Like- maybe… a tattoo?”

Now both eyebrows climbed heavenward- one day I would have to write a treatise on the wealth of meaning she could express with those seemingly insignificant facial features. Meanwhile, she placed her hands on her hips, a definite danger sign.

“Have you been drinking? Or breathing some of the fumes in that fool shaman’s hut?

Mutely, I took her hand, turned it palm upward, and dropped the rune into it. My voice was hoarse as I told her, “Look….”

Surprising Athynae Sarethi was an excellent way to give her an opportunity to hone her healing skills- after she had demonstrated a different range of talents, the ones that involved causing bruises and bleeding. Of course, she was constantly surprising me, noting that it was “good practice.” Apparently, “practice” also involved me lying on the ground in a heap- with the distinct possibility of bruises or bleeding as an additional benefit. If the Empire ever held a competition for getting pummeled, I was guaranteed to take the laurel- as long as Athynae was somewhere in the vicinity. But this time, I did not step back, I did not let go of her hand, I did not look away as she turned her gaze downward and saw the sign that marked the stone, along with its twin seemingly etched into her very skin.

I braced myself for an explosion of some sort, but I refused to back away. Remember the one thing that is important. So I stood my ground and I waited. But the explosion did not come. Athynae gazed at her palm and at the rune, then made a sort of “hmm” sound, as if she had just been given a moderately interesting bit of information that might someday be of some small value. Then she dropped the stone into her belt pouch and turned toward the Skaal village, tossing her words over her shoulder,

“We should go see Korst. I imagine he’s ready for us.”

I had been so braced for the inevitable storm that I could not get my joints to cooperate. My mind, on the other hand, was darting about at a frenetic pace. The stone was no longer in her hand, so that was good- it probably meant that she wouldn’t throw it at him again. Of course, she had darts and blades and stars and possibly other weapons I had never even heard of…. But Korst was a shaman; if things got really bad, maybe he knew the paralysis spell Kausha sometimes used…. And maybe I could take up some other, safer line of work, like becoming a professional Daedroth wrestler and going on tour. That would mean learning to summon a Daedroth of course; a cart would not hold one for long, and people would probably object to Daedra running loose on the country roads and city streets of the empire. Maybe I could learn just enough of the spell to summon a small Daedroth? But people might decide I was a bully for wrestling a mere 5-footer….

“Athlain! Are you coming? Or do you plan to stand there gaping? We have work to do.”

I'll be here soon; trying to get caught up! I've missed Athlain and Athynae!

Many things have conspired to suspend the writing of this story- life, work, getting the room in which I play computer and also write completely rebuilt.... But I also think there is an awareness of coming to the end of this particular part of Athynae and Athlain's lives. And I am not certain what comes after.... But to simply stop has never been my intention, as that would be unfair to my readers and to the characters. So- let us return to Solstheim, where mystery begets riddle begets enigma. And where Athynae's solution is to whack it with a sword until it stops being difficult....

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“…a red-headed tree elf…� I sighed inwardly. Athlain. And he was trying to tread lightly around my mood. Whenever he got worried about my temper, he made bad jokes. The thing was, he could actually be pretty funny, especially the way he took being funny so seriously. But it would never do to let him know- another of our many games- or contests. I didn’t show the warmth I felt at his attempt, instead turning my head and looking down at him with no expression. From the corner of my eye, I saw the falcon turn her head in exactly the same way and it was all I could do to keep from laughing out loud. And then she took flight, giving me the distraction I needed to plan my next step. And a step was what I took- straight off the tree limb and into open air.

Athlain did not care for heights, and I saw him open and then close his mouth as my slow fall amulet worked its spell. When my feet touched the ground, I raised my left eyebrow just a fraction, so much more effective than actually saying anything. In our complicated system of competitions, the person who spoke first lost. He barely managed to avoid saying anything about my efficient descent from the tree, but couldn’t completely stifle his sigh- a point for me.

Then he started talking about my small… misunderstanding… with Korst. That was a change of subject- another point to my side, especially when he exaggerated by claiming I had tried to “brain� the shaman. He was also holding the stone I had thrown just out of reach, obviously trying to goad me into a physical reaction. Instead, I noted that brains seemed to be in short supply of late and held out my hand. And Athlain just… froze.

I wondered if this was a new tactic; he usually responded by tossing words faster than I could fling darts. But then he asked if I had gotten a tattoo, and I began to wonder if something had addled him. I couldn’t resist asking him if he had “seen an elf,� but his eyes kept flicking back and forth from the Ristaag stone to my palm. He seemed on the verge of having a fit. The shaman’s hut was full of strange powders and potions- it would be just like Athlain to handle something he shouldn’t- or get too close during one of Korst’s “ceremonies.� Finally, he dropped the rune into my hand and croaked,

“Look.�

So I did.

Both the stone and my palm bore identical symbols- the Skaal sign for the Great Bear. Even as I recognized the sign, I felt myself drawn back into that place outside of time, felt a pair of huge, shaggy limbs embracing me, holding me safe. The deep, amused voice of the Spirit Bear murmured in my mind,

“You carried my heart; it is only right that you also carry my mark. I hope you like it.�

I mentally thanked her for placing a small mark on my hand, rather than the way poor Sattir had been adorned, with the tattoo covering his entire face. I would have had a hard time explaining that to Mother. Another low chuckle echoed in my mind and then the Spirit Bear was gone and Athlain was still standing in front me, looking as though he wished he could vanish. He could be so silly sometimes- acting like I was some horrible ogre. The Spirit Bear’s sign meant things were moving, and that I would have some supernatural help in the fight with Hircine. All of which meant it was time to go see Korst- if I could shake Athlain loose from his impersonation of a tree.

“Athlain! Are you coming? Or do you plan to stand there gaping? We have work to do.�



Before Athynae and I reached the shaman’s hut, we saw what at first appeared to be a fast-moving cloud approaching the village from the north. My hand went to the Gift, although what use the mace would be against vapor, I did not know. But I feared some new attack by Hircine or one of the other Daedric princes who had made this island their playground. As we watched, the cloud resolved itself into a great flock of carrion birds winging their way to the coast. Athynae, whose eyesight was far better than mine, shuddered and said,

“There has been a great slaughter somewhere nearby. Everyone of them was carrying flesh in their beaks.�

When we reached Korst’s hut, the shaman explained what we had seen.

“Like the fire on Lake Fjalding, this is possibly another sign of the Bloodmoon. The hunters have found many dead horkers along the northern coast of Solstheim. The birds feast today, but the Skaal will soon starve if this continues. However, there is another possibility- one I wish you to investigate. Far to the north, there is a castle of ice, where the giant Karstaag makes his home. We have been at peace with him and with the rieklings he controls, but perhaps they are behind this mischief. The rieklings have no love for the Skaal, nor for any other race except their own. And we have not heard from Karstaag in some time. If he is absent or incapacitated, the rieklings may be taking this opportunity to indulge their bloodlust.�

Korst looked as troubled as I had ever seen him as he continued, “You will not be able to enter Castle Karstaag through the front door, but some of our scouts have found another way- an underwater passage that will provide entry into the castle. Please go and find out what Karstaag knows of this slaughter. Be careful, for his temper is chancy and his reasons are his own. He respects strength and honesty, so I can think of no better envoys to send.�

He gave us a solemn nod and left us to our preparations for the northward journey.

Athynae was typically terse- “Korst may believe what he likes- that this Karstaag has something to do with the dying horkers- but I know it is Hircine. This is exactly the kind of cruelty he would inflict. Still, if he requires proof of this Bloodmoon prophecy, we will get it for him- and get back as quick as we can. I am ready for this to be ended.�

Even so, there were some preparations to make. Korst had told us that the way into the castle was through an underwater passage. That meant potions- water breathing and resist frost, at least. Though I trusted my own alchemy skill, it seemed prudent to ask Athynae, especially since she would have an opinion in any case.

“These are safe to use together, yes? They won’t interact to turn me purple with green spots or anything?�

“No, but you will want to avoid anything with hackle lo for a while afterwards- unless you don’t mind having your hair fall out.�

I touched my scalp. “Um….�

She punched me lightly in the shoulder and said, “You’re too easy.�

Considering that my hair was one of my vanities, I supposed that was true. Even without side effects from the potions, I wasn’t looking forward to another swim in Solstheim’s icy waters. The resist frost would help that, but getting everything dry afterward was another matter. “Water breathing� is not the same as “waterproof.� An arming vest full of cold water under a steel breastplate was a formula for freezing to death in short order.

Athynae always accused me of thinking too much, she preferred to just get on with whatever “adventure� had fired her imagination. But I had reason to know that the result of not thinking ahead was that I would eventually have to think fast later- usually about how to explain things to our parents and sometimes even the civil and temple authorities. The Redoran guards and the Tribunal Temple in Ald’ruhn had thick files regarding the two of us- I knew, because they pulled them out at every opportunity. Their habit of writing everything down seemed to me an unfair burden; it meant I was constantly having to find new and creative answers that stayed just on the right side of honesty. My preparations, accompanied by Athynae’s pointed sighs and frequent finger tapping, were over soon enough, and we left the Skaal village.

Some scenes from the trek to Castle Karstaag I would gladly forget. We first went east to the coast, because we both believed in seeing for ourselves rather than simply trusting someone else’s report. But there was no exaggeration- the shore was littered with dead horkers. With so much meat available, the wolves and bears ignored us, a mixed blessing; I think we both wanted to fight… something to relieve the tension. By the time we silently agreed to turn north, Athynae’s face had become a mask of pain and fury. She was always the champion of the innocent, and she saw this latest ploy of Hircine as a foul tactic, a manifestation of evil and depravity. As she put it, in one of the rare statements she uttered until we had left the carcasses far behind, “It’s like the time I caught Bugstain and his crew using a burning glass on those scribs.�

The incident she mentioned is too long to tell here, but what should be understood is that ‘Thyna had no love for scribs. And that was beside the point. She despised cruelty with every fiber of her being. If she had come across someone tormenting a Winged Twilight, she would have taken the Twilight’s part- most probably with an arrow or dart through the eye to end its pain; but it would be a quick, merciful death. And then the would-be tormentor would be given a lesson in the true meaning of suffering….

*mALX faints* GAAAAAAH !!!! You are continuing Athlain's and Athynae's story!!!! WOO HOO !!!!!

@mALX- Oh yes. Still scuffling away at it. Now that my computer is back in the den, I should be able to actually play Morrowind... any day now...

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“If we go much further north, we’ll be in Skyrim,� Athynae observed from her place in the lead.

“Would that be such a bad thing? I mean obviously not while we’re trying to stop Hircine and find my commander and prevent a pitched battle between the Legion and the Skaal… and look for a missing giant. But someday?�

“Maybe. But I think I’d rather see the Imperial City first- and the Nibenay Valley. That’s where Mother is from.�

“Yes. My mother, too. You know, they’re cousins or something. She tried to explain it to me once, but the relationships got more convoluted and tangled than one of the Red Terrors’ schemes and I got a headache. Besides, she doesn’t usually talk about her life back then anyway. Something happened- something to do with her first marriage.�

Athynae’s steps faltered and she looked back at me over her shoulder. “Aunt Baria was married before? How did I not know?�

“Like I said, she doesn’t talk about it much- and while I’m sure Aunt Serene knows, she has that whole ‘Inscrutable Archmistress of Redoran’ thing that she does. Sometimes, I think she keeps more secrets than the sea….�

“Um.� Athynae walked a few steps in silence and then changed the subject. “Do you think there’s really a giant?�

We were getting along better than we had in some time, so I followed her conversational lead.

“I’m not sure. Korst seems to think so. But maybe this Karstaag is just a taller than average Nord. Even the runty ones look pretty huge to me.�

Talking of Karstaag reminded me of something else Korst had mentioned- something about the “giant’s� relationship to the rieklings. That thought did not make me happy.

“I’m really not so sure about going to see this “king of the rieklings.� Those things are…� I shuddered.

“Oh, they can’t be all that bad- I mean they’re only 3 feet tall, right?�

“Maybe so, but they nearly killed me when I got to Hrothmund’s Barrow! I could show you the scars those little ba-, uh, beasts gave me.�

“Oh, keep your shirt on. I doubt we will even see any of them.�

Athynae’s joke calmed me, as much because it was unexpected as anything else. Bright as she was, she didn’t share her sister’s lightning wit, but she could still surprise me with a straight-faced pun or verbal jab. But talking about the battle at the Barrow reminded me of yet another issue- the reason I had come to Solstheim in the first place.

“So… remember that odd magical amulet I asked you to take to Louis Beauchamp…?�

I stopped short of actually asking if she had given him the bauble- Athynae would have read that as questioning her reliability- which would be the same as questioning her honor- which would be a Bad Idea. And besides, the easy banter we had just recently recovered would vanish like mist in a gale. She did not answer immediately, and I was sure I had offended her as we walked another dozen steps in silence. Just as I was casting about for yet another change of subject, she spoke in a low voice,

“He is a very peculiar man.�

That matched my own assessment, but I could tell that Athynae had something specific in mind, something she was having trouble putting into words. I settled for a neutral “Yes,� to give her time.

“When I handed him the amulet, he examined it with a jeweler’s glass and compared it to some drawings he had in a journal. Then he put it on and gave me an odd look.�

As if in concert with her memory, Athynae’s face also assumed an expression that I would have called embarrassment if I didn’t know better. She turned her head away and mumbled something that I couldn’t quite hear.

“Excuse me? Could you repeat that? It sounded like ‘Hem masked tracks ivy.’ Which I think you will agree makes no sense.�

She stopped and turned to face me and there was no question- she was blushing. She gritted out, “He asked me if I found him… attractive!�

With tremendous effort, I fought down the grin that wanted to emerge. Consideration of the injuries she had probably inflicted on the hapless Breton made it easier for me to maintain a mildly curious expression. Meanwhile, she was rushing forward, having gotten past the largest hurdle in her story.

“But it wasn’t like he was asking me… well… you know. It was more like the way Rah looks when he’s testing one of his new potions and asks how you’re feeling. He wasn’t seeing me as a person, exactly- more like the subject of an experiment. Anyway, I just stared at him for a minute and then left.� She waved her hands as if to push away the confusion of the memory. “Short of dumping his drink on his head and telling him to cool off, I didn’t know how to answer a question like that.�

She whirled back around and marched north with a determined set to her shoulders. For my part, I decided to store that bit of information for later, when Athynae didn’t have anything liquid handy.


“…more secrets than the sea.� Athlain’s offhand words echoed in my brain. It was odd to think of our parents having secrets, pasts about which we knew nothing. Mother had been sent to the Imperial Prison- I knew about that, because it was part of her “public legend.� She used it when necessary to persuade doubtful Dunmer that she would not automatically side with the Empire on every issue. And she and Uncle Trey would joke about it sometimes, saying they should start a club called “Former Guests of the Empire’s Hospitality.�

Besides all that, I had her journals nestled in my pack. I reached back a hand to reassure myself the bundle of books was still there, under my spare clothes. Of course, I had read hardly any of them- too much had been going on to allow for a long quiet read. And anyway, I was still irritated with her, even if I couldn’t remember exactly why. But I was sure I had good reason. And after all, the events in those journals were from a long time ago. I needed to focus on the present. There was nothing in Mother’s past that would have any effect on what was happening now.

I am so excited to see this back on the top! It is really inspiring to see you writing again - will inspire me to work harder at getting back to reading again !!!

Hey, it's Athlain and Athynae! It's so great to see them getting an update! *props self next to the fire, chin in hands, ready to listen to the story...*

I'm still really enjoying Athlain and Athynae's relationship and their interplay, also - in this latest installment - the talk about their parents and the things they do/don't know about their past (or don't care to know - that last sentence of Athynae's has "famous last words" written aaaaall over it!) It's a nice further glimpse into the complicated experience of growing up as a child of a hero and asserting your self and your independence from that starting point... which I guess is really what this story is about, isn't it?

And Athynae still manages to be a very compelling character. In the previous installments, her frustration with the hunting Nords (torches!!) and then how she blamed both them and herself for their deaths really jumped off the page to hit you in the heart.



Believe me, Athlain, Adryn really feels you on this one!



Ha! What an amazing conclusion to that quest, indeed. Personally, I think dumping his drink on his head would have been a perfectly acceptable way to answer that question!



I'd say Athynae still has some growing up to do but that may just be her personality...

Anyway, I am looking forward to seeing where you take this. It does feel as if this chapter of Athlain and Athynae's lives is slowly drawing to a close... and the mentions of travelling to Cyrodiil have given me a niggling suspicion as to what might come next.

“Red-headed tree elf,� yikes! I’m sure that Athlain knows he should be ready to duck.

How marvelous that after all of these adventures away from home, it’s recalling his father’s words that sparks Athlain’s recognition that Athynae is the One Thing.

I am hopping from one foot to the other over Athynae’s reluctance to read Serene’s journals. There was nothing in Mother’s past that would have any effect on what was happening now made me want to yell through the screen that she should make sure!

Oh, and “Short of dumping his drink on his head and telling him to cool off, I didn’t know how to answer a question like that.� Athynae doesn’t chatter idly. I hope Athlain figures out why she mentioned that incident! *hops around some more*

@mALX- Still struggling along with it. I think knowing that I am nearing the end has been as much a deterrent to writing as anything else. Still... they (and you) deserve to see what happens next.

@Kazaera- Your words regarding Athynae's character warm my heart, considering what an excellent job you do with Adryn (and her supporting cast). These two are such fun to write that, as mentioned to mALX, I think I have slowed down because I know it is getting near the finish.

@Grits- Athlain, like so many sons before him, is starting to realize that maybe Dad knew a few things, after all.
And the dance between the two continues- if fact, there are references to dancing in this installment!

And so- after far too long a delay- again! Here is more Blood on the Moon.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

We had been traveling more west than north for some time, and the bodies of horkers were scattered all along the gravel beach. The sight fanned my rage against Hircine. Whatever Korst thought, I knew whose Daedric hands were stained with the creatures' innocent blood. Meanwhile, Athlain was talking- explaining- trying to rationalize why he had been gathering firewood along the way and adding it to his burden of armor and shield. I was only giving him a fraction of my attention; the rest was concentrated on our surroundings. I stopped walking and caught more of what he was saying,

“… so that’s why I’ve been picking up these branches. Do you have some oilcloth to wrap them?�

When he realized I was looking at him, he made a gesture as if soothing an agitated guar, then muttered, “You know I’m better at fire magic, so…�

“Athlain…�

“So I should go first when we get to the underwater passage, so I can…�

“Athlain….�

“…build the fire, and ….�

“Athlain! Hush!�

He stopped talking and blinked at me, as if just realizing I was there. Now that I had his attention, it was time for a lesson.

“What do you smell?�

He wrinkled his nose. “Rotten eggs?�

“Right. And what does that mean?�

“That we are going to have be on short rations for a while?�

I rolled my eyes and pointed to a nearby pool surrounded by boulders.

“What do you notice about that pool?�

“It’s steaming and bubbling.�

“Right again. It’s a hot spring. And it’s also the entry to Castle Karstaag. So we won’t be needing your firewood- or your fire magic. And my groundsheet will be more useful for keeping my armor dry. Oh- and also- I will be going first.�

I couldn’t resist adding, “You can build a fire or something while I scout the passage.�

That would have been a great line on which to exit, but there was still the problem of my leathers. Brimstone-laden water would not be good for them, nor for the silver (Nordic silver- yes, Brynn) inlay. So I turned back to where Athlain was shuffling his feet and fidgeting.

“Actually, you should build that fire or find something else to occupy yourself, because I need to change out of my armor and this is not Desele's Garden, nor do I wish to put on a show.�

His mouth opened, but no sound came out and I struggled to maintain a serious expression. I held up two empty potion vials, one red and the other green.

“Once I get through, I will float one of these back. Green means ‘all clear’ and red means ‘hurry’.�

His mouth snapped shut and he looked at me with one of his Athlain grins. “And I suppose both at once means you forgot the water-breathing potion and drowned?�

I just pointed to where I wanted him to stand while I took off my armor. Sometimes, it was better to let him have the last word. And anyway, I was still going into the castle first. I resisted the unwarrior-like impulse to stick out my tongue at his back. Of course, that had nothing to do with the fact that I had almost forgotten to drink the potion.

* * * * *

“Build a fire. Don't build a fire. Go there. Go here. Don't stub your toe kicking those rocks.� Sometimes Athynae frustrated me beyond bearing. What if I got eaten by a bear while she was swimming into Castle Karstaag? Well, no need to get too dramatic. Winning an argument by being mauled and eaten was farther than I really wanted to go. And besides, she would just accuse my mangled remains of cheating.

I was an officer of the Imperial Legion, for Azura's sake! We were “the tip of the spear,� “the best of the best,� “the chosen of the Empire.� Even I had to roll my eyes a bit at all that high-flown description. But I should have gone first, except there was no way I could have managed it, short of attempting main force. Against Athynae? Some things were best not thought of. And if you did, try to think of something else quick. Ah well, even officers had to obey orders. But that was what grated- why did I always end up taking orders from 'Thyna? And I also wondered when I would learn not to argue with her. She was only a few months older, but she wielded that difference like a club.

And speaking of clubs, how had she ever heard of Desele's Garden? Of course, if she did decide to dance there.... Um. Another thought that was best not to think about, especially not while she was removing her armor not too many yards away. She had the hearing as well as the eyesight of an elf, and probably the ability to read my thoughts, if past experience was any indication. Beyond all that, for Athynae, dancing was remarkably similar to sparring- her partners generally ended battered, bruised, and wondering what had just happened. That sounded familiar.

I shook my head, trying to rein my thoughts in, to focus on the reason we were here, but my brain refused to cooperate. The thing was, she had never been a “girl,� not like her sister Bree; she was just... Athynae. So most of the time I didn't even consider such things, but every once in a while, the sun would shine in her hair or I would see her laughing in the firelight and my heart would lurch. I really needed to think about something else, because the prospect of being attacked by a bear was looking better and better. But before I could think of a reliable method to attract a suitably hungry bear- they never seemed to be around when you needed them- I heard a quiet splash as Athynae entered the pool. I turned to watch her shapely feet (think of something else- please!) disappear below the surface. And then all that was left for me was to wait. And think about glaciers and the sea and frost giants and hungry bears- really, just one- a small one, or even a wolf would be welcome.

Then the green potion vial bobbed to the surface of the hot spring. It was possible a giant waited on the other side of that passage, but Athynae certainly did. And for the first time in a great many days, I felt a shiver of fear.

More Athlain and Athynae!!

For what it's worth, I understand the problem of "I don't want to finish it" (the amount of video games I've left at 95% completion, among others...) and hope you'll persevere.

Anyway! I love the sheer richness of their world. From the problem of how not to freeze to death from cold water even if you have a waterbreathing spell, to the sulfur pools, to the signals through coloured potion bottles - it's all very vibrant and *real*, very interwoven with reality instead of reading like, well, a video game! Taking notes here.

Also, Athlain and Athynae's interplay never ceases to make me smile. Desele's Garden! Athynae ignoring Athlain! Athlain indignant because *he* should have gone first! Let's hope they manage to keep things from exploding until they've dealt with the possibly-giant at the other end, at least.

I started reading from where I'd left off (over 3 years ago - ye gads) but quickly realised that though I could remember large chunks of what had gone before, details were eluding me. Such a large part of the joy of reading this has always been the interplay between Athlain and Athynae and seeing them grow, and I couldn't bear to be reading this with those details missing.

So, I did the only thing I could think of.

Start from the beginning and read it all the way through. Taken me two weeks, but now I can say in all honesty that I'm well and truly caught up.

And it's just as good as I remembered it being.

S.G.M. with an ever so slight emphasis on the "M" please.

Please sir, can I have another?

So, for the moment anyway, I have gotten past whatever "stuck place" was holding me back. I could run through the usual list, but we all know it and all live it every day, so I will skip the boring details. The good news- besides more story- I am "feeling it" once more. And I guess that's one of the (many) things that separates me from actual professional writers- I am not able to just get in there and push through it every day. But, I am happy with what follows and hope you will be, too.

@Kazaera- High praise indeed from you, who have added so much detail and background and just plain "of course that's how that would work" to the bare bones of Morrowind. And those little (hopefully) imaginative concepts like the potion vial signal and Athynae throwing Athlain off by mentioning Desele's... Those are some of the parts I enjoy the most, because they add depth in a way that you manage so well. And the A and A team are so much fun to simply turn loose and watch the fireworks, especially because neither one is yet quite aware of WHY they strike sparks from one another....

@Burnt Sierra- And I reward your longtime friendship and reading with months of no new words. I am a bad person. I cannot tell you how much your continued enjoyment of this effort means. And, at long last, here is the bit more you so kindly requested.

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The underwater passage wasn't very long and ended at a shallow ledge, beyond which was a door. Castle Karstaag lay on the other side and I was somewhat tempted to go have a look around. But if I did that, Athlain would never let me hear the end of it- and he would probably get himself into trouble if I left him alone for too long. Besides, the small chamber held a pleasant warmth from the hot spring and I stretched and wrung the water out of my hair. I considered sending the signal, but decided to wait a bit, at least until my undergarments had dried and I could get back into my leathers.

Athlain always accused me of rushing forward without thinking, but that wasn't true. What I did was think about things ahead of time, so when I needed to act, there was no hesitation. So I tried to always be prepared for whatever might happen. Like my remark about Desele's. I'd been saving that one, because I knew it would stop Athlain's too-clever brain for just long enough for me to win an argument.
And even so, I had had to look closely to see his ears turn red, a subtle sign that my trick had worked.

It's too late to plan your next move when the blades are already out.

And when it came to battles with words, Athlain was usually quicker than me. Of course, to be fair- and only inside my own mind- when the time had come to fight with weapons, Athlain was actually very good. I gave myself and all the sparring we had done some of the credit, but since he had joined the Legion, he was... different. Sometimes, when he was concentrating on making camp or watching for threats, I hardly recognized the quiet, confident man who inhabited the place where Athlain used to be.

I shook my head. No. Despite the muscles, the deep voice, the calm thoughtful eyes- he was still Athlain. My Athlain. Wait. What? I shook my head again, more forcefully. What I meant was, he was still my responsibility. Just that. There must be something besides brimstone in the air, something that blurred my thoughts.

The best thing to do would be to get moving again, get inside the “castle� and find the giant. Again, I considered that I would do just fine going by myself, but if left to his own devices, Athlain would probably get into trouble- pick a fight with a bear... or a Daedra. He frustrated me sometimes, but I never questioned his bravery. He just tended to decide to be brave at awkward moments. Like running off to join the Legion in the first place. What had he been thinking? Thinking... I was doing too much of that again, myself. Whatever ailment he had was afflicting me now. That's what came of too much time alone in the wilderness with him.

Well, the cure for that was to send the signal and get through the door. I sorted through my alchemy kit, looking for the green vial I was supposed to send back. How can it be gone? I just had it. I hated losing anything- it was a reaction against the relative wealth of my family, I suppose. Other councilors- and their spoiled br... offspring, were terribly wasteful. But Mother and Father maintained a degree of simplicity that would have looked like parsimony from the outside. But it was really the opposite- when they commissioned or purchased something, they made sure it was built to last. Which meant they rarely needed to buy anything new. And I especially liked to keep up with my alchemy supplies, because good glassware was precious. Another reason was that potion-making, when it was done properly, imbued the result with something of the maker- and sympathetic (or in this case malicious) magic using personal items was well-known.

Even as those thoughts went through my mind, and my fingers danced over the vials, I came across one midnight dark flask that I nearly hurled against the wall in frustration- the one that had contained the lycanthropy “cure� that left me night-blind. But... I heard brother Rah's voice in my mind:

“If you come across anything...interesting... please bring me a sample. Even if it's a poison or a failed experiment; I can still learn from it.�

When he talked about learning, he looked like a hungry guar contemplating a full berry bush. Of course, it also sounded as if he expected me to come back to Ald'Ruhn leading a dragon on a string, but still. With a sigh I put the hated container back, knowing it held the dregs of the potion Athlain had worked so hard to prepare. And, a part of me wondered, why had he made such an effort? That wasn't how it was supposed to work. I kept him alive- that was the arrangement and it wasn't fair for him to go changing it- or changing himself, either. I had won the argument about swimming into the unknown, but only just barely.

One good thing about all the random thoughts- I had dried sufficiently to put on my leathers. As always, I began the chant as I unwrapped my armor and weapons and started the task of redressing, thankful that the oil cloth had done a good job of keeping everything reasonably dry.

Left leg, right leg. Your legs are your main weapon.
You don't swing with your arms, you swing with your legs.
Build the foundation on which everything else depends...

My mind began to wander back toward the surface of the pool and how Athlain was going to get himself with his tin suit and dinner plate through the water and keep it dry so he didn't rust motionless.

"I will not carry an oil can in my pack just to keep you mobile."

I directed my words at the steaming water, while still rummaging for the vial I needed to signal Athlain, because if I didn't, he would probably jump in, armor and all, and sink straight to the bottom. And meanwhile, we were supposed to talk to a missing giant, and find out why the horkers were dying. Except I knew why they were dying- it was Hircine and his stupid Hunt. And with that thought, I at last found the green bottle, nestled in my pocket, right where I had put it after showing it to Athlain. Back into the current it went, and if I propelled it with a bit more force than was necessary, I was the only one there to see.

Before long, bubbles began to rise and pop at the surface, followed by a shadow. I reached and put my hand on Dreamer's hilt as Athlain's head broke the surface. And then his shoulders. When had they gotten so wide? They seemed to span the cavern. And then his chest followed and my brain was screaming, “Turn around; look away; close your eyes!" But I was transfixed, paralyzed as if I'd been hit with one of Kausha's spells. I'd seen him before, of course I had, but the muscles, that chest like marble, his stomach divided into six, no wait, eight, very distinct sections... and....

" 'Thyna if you don't want me to audition for Desele's, I suggest you turn around, because what isn't in the water is getting cold and I need to get out to get dressed." With a smirk he added, “Not that I think Desele's patrons would appreciate the show.�

My traitor brain murmured, “The patrons might not, but I bet the other dancers would...� Shut up, shut up! Where is this coming from?

I jumped and turned, hopefully before he saw my face go up in flames. I couldn't very well yell at him for throwing my line back at me, but HOLY GUAR DUNG! I heard the water cascading off as he sloshed out of the pool, and then the metal clang as his gear hit the ground.

Without turning, I noted, "Well if we were hoping to surprise them it's out the the question now!"

Some small part of me almost wished for an attack just to prove my point, but then I retracted the thought as I realized that would mean fighting beside a partially nude Athlain and that just wouldn't work. Something might happen to important parts he might need later, like his... arm or something, something usually covered by armor- lots and lots of armor. Would something or someone please distract me from this train of thought!

"Hey, 'Thyna" Athlain whispered harshly, "Did you hear that?"

No, I hadn't heard anything but my stupid brain running off on some stupid tangent about stupid battles with half naked Athlains everywhere. "What? I didn't hear anything." I still resolutely kept my eyes focused on the door leading out of the cavern. Where was a giant when I needed one? Or even a kagouti, or a cliff racer, or...

Athlain stepped up beside me as he pushed his left arm into the straps of his ridiculous giant platter and looked at me like I was someone he didn't know. "Are you all right? What's wrong?"

I gave him one of my 'you're ridiculous' looks.

"I'm fine; maybe I still have water in my ears."

And I shook my head to get it out, along with the last vestiges of that horrible mental path lined with partially-clothed Athlains that I did not want to climb...EVER AGAIN.

He shrugged, settling the rest of his tin suit. "I heard a shuffling sound, maybe footsteps, but now it's gone."

"Well you have your giant hammer and your dinner tray, so we can get moving. Maybe we'll find them before they find us- if all your clanking and banging hasn't scared them off." There, that was better. Think about sniping at his choice of gear, instead of the.... other things, that I absolutely was not going to think about.

"You know, 'Thyna, my 'dinner tray' has served me well," he chuckled at himself as I rolled my eyes.

"You are such a guar's butt and your jokes aren't funny."

"Then why do you smile, sometimes?"

"Because you try so hard I must occasionally reward your effort."

"One of us has to at least make an attempt at humor."

I was preparing to punch him, as much to get things back on a familiar footing as because- I admit it- I kind of liked punching him; when I heard it, feet scooting along a rough floor, and what sounded like mumbling. I held up my fist and tilted my head to focus not only on the sounds and their direction but also searching for a smell, a clue as to what we might be dealing with. I held up one finger, no not the one I often used in conversation with Athlain, but instead the one to indicate it was only one something. I... tasted the scent- bristleback, ice, something else I did not recognize.... I mouthed the word “riekling,� with a shrug to indicate “maybe.�

Moah !!

It just struck me how much like my Alise and Argis that your Athlain and Thynae are - or maybe it's the other way around? Regardless, I loved Thynae's train of thought here, and how it moved from distraction to - umm - distraction (!)

What's this?



I must be seeing things...



Could it be?



Yahoo! More Athlain and Athynae, Christmas has come early!

Certainly interesting seeing the growing feelings (well more like growing realization of feelings that have always been there) that Athynae is finally admitting she has towards Athlain. Haute ecole rider beaten me to the quote, but it's good enough to be requoted in successive replies if only for the vivid mental picture it created in my mind!

"And I shook my head to get it out, along with the last vestiges of that horrible mental path lined with partially-clothed Athlains that I did not want to climb...EVER AGAIN."

Hm, I suspect she might not get her wish there...

Lovely to see you back sir!

First- many thanks to my co-author for... um... fleshing out (sorry) my vague outline of Athynae's (the character) sudden awareness of the physicality of her best friend and sparring partner.

@haute- I was laughing all through poor Athynae's denials. She is remarkable stubborn and will probably find a way to blame Athlain for her discomfort. Just a feeling.... And if our descriptions of the evolving relationship between our A and A team reminds you of your own... that is high praise, indeed.

@Burnt Sierra- Presents for everybody! And if one is good- let's hope another is even better! And I think you are right- there are some images that just won't ever go away, no matter how disciplined the warrior who is having those picture in her head may be. Thank you sir, please have another.

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Athlain nodded and pointed for me to go around the corner while he stayed in the shadows in case there were more. I palmed a star as I stepped into what appeared to be more of a roughly hewn corridor than a cave. A small, blue-skinned being was bent over inspecting something on the floor. I flung the star and it sang off the stones close enough to scratch his fingers. He jumped and turned to face me with his spear raised as I pulled Dreamer free.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" My voice was flat and deadly.

Even though the little creature was only half my height, a part of me rather hoped he would try to use the spear. A fight, any fight would take my mind off of... other things- one of which was now breathing in my ear. Which might have been pleasant if.... No! Keep your focus on the threat! And which threat is that? a dry voice seemed to ask from somewhere inside my head. I ignored all of it, allowing myself only a quick glance at Athlain, who was scowling ferociously and gripping his mace so tightly that his knuckles were white.

I am not sure which of us was more shocked when the riekling spoke in a high, squeaky voice, "Who are you? How did you get here?"

"I could ask you the same."

"I am Krish."

"And?" I took a step toward him as I pointed the tip of Dreamer at his throat. He lowered the point of his spear and shuffled his feet nervously, as if torn between answering or running away.

"Karstaag has disappeared. I was trying to take care of the castle until he returns, but Dulk took over and he is bad. I had allies, kinsmen, to help me but we were too few, so I hired grahl to aid us. I was a fool; the grahl killed my kinsmen. I am alone now, running from them and hiding from Dulk, and now I have a sword at my throat from an enemy I didn't know I had."

Athlain finally spoke. His voice hoarse with suppressed emotion, he muttered, "Don't trust him. If you don't want to kill him, I will."

The blue-skinned Krish immediately dropped his spear and kicked it away before sidling over to place me between himself and Athlain. Even so, I had to put my free hand on Athlain's arm to keep him back.

"What is wrong with you?" I hissed.

His eyes never left the cowering creature and his voice was a monotone. "He's a riekling. He's dangerous."

I raised an eyebrow and used Dreamer to indicate the discarded spear. Athlain was not appeased, "Well, he's just waiting his chance to slice us to bits."

Now I raised both eyebrows and even rolled my eyes for good measure. " 'Slice us to bits?' With what?"

Athlain grumbled, "With his teeth!"

"Now you're just being ridiculous."

"Ridiculous?" His voice had risen at least an octave. "Those little blue ba---, ah... beasts nearly killed me at Hrothmund's Barrow."

I had to smile at his self-censoring of his language, especially considering some of the things he had heard me say during some of our intense sparring sessions. Let's just say hanging around the stables in Ald'ruhn had given me an education in more than guar-riding.

He apparently took my amusement as disbelief. "I could show you the scars...."

He looked as if he was reaching for the fastenings of his armor and I really did not need the reality of a half-dressed Athlain to refuel the images I had just about tamped down.

"Oh, keep your shirt on, I told him." Please! Thought the part of me that was trying to pay attention to everything around us. I decided the best thing to do was change the subject and try to get Athlain's attention back on the reason we were here in the first place.

So I sheathed Dreamer and added, "Besides, he might prove helpful."

Under his breath, Athlain muttered, "And the winged guar of happiness might fly out of my nose."

"I heard that."

Shaking my head at my companion's irrationality, I turned to Krish. "What happened to Karstaag?"

"I do not know. He was here and then he wasn't. He would not leave the castle without a reason; he hasn't left here for an age."

"Do you know what has happened to the horkers? Who's killing them?"

"I do not know, but the evil Dulk may know. He's probably killing them for fun just to hear their cries."

Athlain finally decided to be a help instead of a hindrace and asked, "How do we find Dulk?" The command in his voice caught me off guard, especially coming so close on the heels of his earlier complaints.

"He is probably in the throne room, but he is well protected."

"Can you tell us how to get there?" Athlain's voice was a little less harsh, now that he had a goal in mind.

"Are you going to kill me?"

I slid Dreamer back into her scabbard, "Have you done something I should kill you for?"

"Not that I can think of, today."

I chuckled while Athlain glared. "Tell us how to get through the castle and promise me you will leave us be, and all will be well."

"I could just run."

"You could try," now Athlain was chuckling. "But know this, little riekling; she will have you dead ten different ways before you finish your first step." Krish looked from Athlain to me and back.

"She missed my hand."

I parted his hair with a well placed dart that took just enough skin to make a point. "I never miss. You have now received one more warning than all but very, very few get. There will not be a third. Directions, throne room, now!"

Krish gave us the directions and warned us about the grahl and other rieklings that were part of Dulk's army before he left us by way of a dark tunnel partially hidden behind a boulder. I ran through my weaponry and asked a question that had been bothering me almost from the time we met Krish.

"Athlain, what on Nirn is a grahl?"

Why do I think this one will answer itself?

@Ghastley- Grahl ho!

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“What is a grahl?� It was such a simple question, asked in the spirit of honest wonder. Athynae- and I- were both always fascinated by the discovery of new things, of walking on paths previously unknown. When we were children, we constantly “discovered� new trails and new creatures, little thinking that someone else's feet had worn those trails, and that the finite creatures of Vvardenfell were well-known to those who had lived there for centuries. But we were children, and so we took a childish delight in anything that was new- even if it was only new to us.

Grahl- I had only encountered the one, the Lightkeeper in the Halls of Penumbra, so I knew little about them. After we finished with the corridors of Castle Karstaag, I wished my ignorance had remained intact. But finish we had, and now we had managed lock ourselves in a room in that palace made of ice, and all that were left were memories that I wished I could banish as easily as I had barricaded the door. Unbidden, memory of the previous few hours returned....

* * * * *

Knowing there were rieklings in the castle put me on edge, even though Korst had warned us that Karstaag used the foul creatures as servants. And then to have one of them actually speak to Athynae.... Perhaps that was simply a tribute to who she was- I would have been unsurprised if she coaxed speech from a stone. But another part of me wondered if all of the blue-skinned mer I had encountered were capable of communicating with more than weapons and simply disdained to use the speech of men. Or maybe Krish was somehow different. By his own admission, he had induced the grahl to assist in his overthrow of Dulk, the riekling who had apparently been left in charge.

I don't know why it mattered to me so much, wondering if the rieklings had some sort of society or not. And even if they did, it seemed to be based on pillage and murder. Of course, the same could be said of the Nords... or the Tamrielic Empire, depending on whom you asked and at which end of the spear they happened to be. Still I was grateful that, for a time, we did not encounter any rieklings, civilized or savage. Instead, the rough stone caverns angled upward and soon gave way to corridors carved from ice.

And it was there that we met our first grahl, one which seemed to materialize from the very ice of the wall. At first glance, it was almost a comical figure, with excessively long limbs, particularly the legs. But a closer look showed claws the length of my arm at the end of the paws, and a mouth filled with triangular teeth. Athynae naturally rushed forward, Dreamer hissing as she freed sword from sheath.

“Looks like someone could use a manicure,� she quipped, as she lopped the claws from one outstretched hand with a diagonal stroke. The beast made no sound, but stepped back and braced its other hand on the wall of corridor. And then, as its red eyes flashed, it grew back the claws Athynae had removed. And where the other hand had touched the wall, there was a hollow in the ice- a void from which it had drawn the material to rebuild itself. Troll, I thought, and then had the presence to say aloud to Athynae, who was already preparing her next attack.

We both knew that trolls are vulnerable to fire- it was one of those bits of lore we had picked up in our avid search for any information about adventuring. And it would have been helpful knowledge if either of us was a mage, armed with a fire spell at the ready. In the event, we defeated the strange creature by more conventional means- which is to say Athynae sliced bits off of it faster than it could grow them back and I hammered at what was left with the Gift. It might have lacked the elegance or poetry of using fire to melt a creature of ice, but cutting and shattering were still quite effective.

When it fell at last, I couldn't help but turn to look at Athynae and ask in as dry a tone as I could muster, “A manicure? Seriously?�

For her part, she simply wiped Dreamer's blade with a cloth and shrugged before replying, “I didn't think trollicure was a real word.�

Since she was in a relatively good mood- getting to hit things with her sword often seemed to have that effect- I decided to take a chance.

“I have a suggestion, and I don't think you will like it, but hear me out please.�

She raised an eyebrow and made a “give it to me� gesture with her free hand, so I plunged ahead.

“That grahl was slow. Yes, he was also big and well-armed, what with the claws and spikes and tusks- but... slow. If we encounter more of them, I think we can use your speed to our advantage, if you will let me occupy the beast while you hamstring it. And then, if necessary. I can....� I concluded with a pantomime of smashing something over the head.

Much as I wanted to keep explaining, I shut my mouth and waited for the impending eruption- which did not come. Instead, 'Thyna ran a hand over her various weapons, a sure sign that she was thinking about something. Her impromptu inventory complete, she checked Dreamer's edge once more before responding.

“ 'Occupy' I will accept. Running ahead and getting yourself shredded I will not. We stay together until I sense a threat, we assess the threat, and then we can see if your idea will work. But if it's some of those little rieklings you are so afraid of... or... or something else, we will find a different plan.�

She did not say, but I knew that “something else� was a reference to werewolves- and so I let the remark about my fear of the rieklings go by. Besides, she had agreed with my idea, even if she had hedged that agreement about with conditions. With Athynae, you took the victory you could get, because any win was a rare occurrence.

As we continued to move upward through the ice-walled passages, there was a remarkable absence of “little rieklings,� although I did sometimes hear a sound like small feet somewhere just out of sight, pacing our movement. But we did encounter several more grahl, and my plan for dealing with them worked even better than I hoped. The snow-wolf covering Athynae had placed over her leather armor helped her blend into the terrain, while I marched down the center of the hall as if I was on the parade ground. All of which meant that the grahl never even saw the ebony blade that descended like nightfall and removed limbs or heads. My main contribution, except in one case, was to simply stand there like a tin target on an archery range.

Finally, we reached a pair of massive doors that blocked further progress. We could hear what sounded like a battle taking place beyond the portal, but even our combined strength could not force it open. Father could probably have picked the lock- if he had been there, and if he had not gotten so... stuffy... about his less-than-legal skills. But without a thief- or a key- we were checked. I could see 'Thyna casting an appraising eye at the massive construction, as if considering how best to begin demolition, when a short figure popped out of a hidden tunnel a few yards back from the way we had come.

Holding his hands over his head and cowering, Krish the Riekling squeaked, “The banquet hall. Yes. You need the key. Krish happens to have... found it- when the evil Dulk was not paying attention.�

With that, he produced a large silver key and reached it tentatively towards us, as if afraid we might take his hand, as well.

Athynae took the key and gave me a bright smile. “Did you hear that, Lainie? The 'banquet hall'! Maybe now you can put that giant serving platter on your arm to good use!�

As soon as 'Thyna took the key, Krish darted back into his tunnel; muttering about grahl, elves with swords, and the evil Dulk. Meanwhile, my companion made a great show of handing the key to me and gesturing at the doors in an exaggerated “if you would, please� manner. Of course she wanted me to unlock them- it would keep her hands free for whatever might be on the other side. I sighed and acquiesced, believing myself ready for what lay ahead. But nothing could have prepared me for the scene within that banquet hall.

First, there was movement everywhere; rieklings battling rieklings, and grahl shambling through the knots of combatants like animated boulders sliding on a plain of ice, snatching up the little blue creatures as they went. My first impulse was to push the door closed once more and wait for the end of the furious melee. It would be easier for us to deal with the remnants. But then I realized what I was seeing- a grahl plucked a riekling from the floor and stuffed the living creature into its gaping maw. Triangular teeth closed down in a crunch of flesh and bone, accompanied by a spray of blood, and then the riekling was gone- completely devoured. I felt more than heard Athynae's shouted “No!� and was nearly staggered by the speed of her passage as she threw herself into the fray. I had no choice but to follow.

Thyna to the Rescue! Somehow I am not surprised. She strikes me as the kind of person that always chooses the side of the underdog.

It was fun to see Athlain’s quandary about the rieklings and their potential for intelligence, which implies they have a society, culture, and perhaps even a set of morals, however repulsive they may seem to outsiders.

Ooh, frying pan, meet fire! Although, perhaps Athlain could gently suggest that diving headfirst into a pitched battle with no regard for safety could potentially be described as bravely bonkers. On second thoughts, perhaps he'd better suggest that from a safe distance himself...

And continuing our 'picking out evocative images' spot here is today's contender.

"never even saw the ebony blade that descended like nightfall and removed limbs or heads."

Now that is just wonderful.

Delighted to see inspiration seems to have struck, can't wait to see the next update!

@haute- You are correct. She (imprecisely) sees the rieklings as "little guys" being "picked on" by the grahl. And in a little while we will learn a slight bit more about the rieklings- although mostly that they are a real pain in the fundament....

@Burnt Sierra- Athlain is most definitely thinking very peevish thoughts about the wisdom of diving into the middle of a fight- especially one that has no "right" side as far as he is concerned. Ah many thanks for picking out that line- it was one of those "pictures in my head"moments that came to me as I was completing the post and imagining myself in those icy halls. Inspiration or desperation- for once we have several completed posts ready to go, instead of waiting 2 years between....

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Athlain inserted the key and turned, and as he flung the door wide, the previously muffled sounds of battle exploded into our ears. The scene in front of me was almost mind numbing; grahl and rieklings filled the room; blood and gore covered the floor and the walls, and as I focused on the grahl closest to me, he retrieved a riekling and popped it into his mouth like it was a tasty treat.

"No!" It was wrong- I couldn't wrap my mind around the grahl eating the little humanoid creature, so like a child in size. I had to put a stop to it. And so I charged with Dreamer in one hand and my dagger in the other. As I neared the troll, I used a broken chair as a springboard and jumped straight at the beast, swinging my katana in an arc that removed its head.

As the grisly object spun away from my blow, I heard Athlain yelling behind me, but I wasn't aware of the words. My feet had barely made contact with the floor before there was a pause in the fighting, amd all eyes turned my way. There was a breathless pause that seemed to last forever, then as if a switch had been thrown- the foes became allies to fight their mutual enemy- me. And by extension, Athlain. And so there really was no turning back; it was win or die. I'd spent my entire life training for situations like this, but something was wrong- I had never expected that the people I was trying to save would turn on me. I had forgotten that we were on Solstheim, where no good deed ever went unpunished.

The proof of my realization came quickly, as one of the ungrateful blue beasts grabbed my arm and bit down. I silently thanked Bryn for the improvements to my bracers as only one sharp fang found an opening in the Nordic silver inserts. I launched the little fiend toward the wall and sent my dagger after, pinning him in place by a fold of skin along his neck. He wasn't dead, but he also wouldn't be going anywhere.

That gave me a moment to spare, and I looked for Athlain. He appeared to be a machine, mace and shield working in synchronization to sweep rieklings from his path. Like me, he knew the grahl were the greater threat, even though their numbers were few. His face was a a mask, devoid of emotion, until he caught my eye. Then, for a fleeting moment, his expression conveyed anger, fear, and exasperation- along with a good dose of “I told you so.� He was going to yell at me, I just knew he was. Then the tide of blue monsters swept forward again, breaking around him like waves around a boulder and I had to turn my attention back to my own troubles.

The part of me that wasn't fighting understood though, that unless he removed their heads or struck a vital organ, the little freaks would dive back in for more. They were vicious beyond anything I'd encountered- other than the were beasts Hircine had sent after me. I now knew why Athlain had such an unhealthy paranoia of the rieklings.

I looked up into the face of another grahl, towering over me as he swung one of his massive clawed arms. I dropped flat as the razor spikes only just missed my head. As I dropped, I pulled my knees up under me and catapulted myself upward with Dreamer held vertically in both hands. The blade sliced up the middle of the ice beast and he roared in pain and frustration as I flipped backward to avoid his jaws. Then Athlain was behind him and tenderized his frozen skull with a swing that sent tiny shards of grahl ice in every direction. Athlain's eyes met mine in another brief connection that promised a long talk in the future- assuming we had a future other than grahl food. Hateful person that I was, I winked and then we were swirled apart again, each trying to end this melee as quickly as possible.

One of the little heathen beasts decided to chew off the lower half of my leg so I kicked him into the air and divided him into two parts; not equal really, more like a third and two thirds, mid chest. As the pieces struck, the floor, my mind momentarily focused on the fact that I was slaughtering creatures smaller than Ahnya and bile rose in my throat. I swallowed hard and looked toward Athlain, trying to find a way out of this madness, trying to reconcile what we were doing with what I had always believed being a warrior meant. But just then, a grahl loomed behind him. "No time for distracting thoughts," I whispered to my scattered mind before I yelled,

"Lainie, behind you!"

At the same time, instinct and training had Dreamer sheathed and three arrows flying from my bowstring. They didn't pierce that frozen hide, but were enough to get his attention. I put up my hand and beckoned, and when the stupid beast turned to lumber toward me, another shower of grahl brain matter decorated the hall. The Gift had hit the target square.

While I had been fighting- and wondering why I was fighting- Athlain had wreaked havoc on the rabid little beasts, decreasing their numbers considerably. But we had two grahl remaining and maybe ten or fifteen of the mini assassins. Battle was what I was born for- I still did not doubt that, but the killing would always take a toll. I had to stop thinking of the rieklings' size, stop comparing them to children, and look at their abilities with sharp teeth and claws and the fact that they descended mostly in clusters. There was no way to stop them short of death. And it occurred to me that it was probably far worse for Athlain, just the difference in who we were as people.

I had no desire to know how stupid the grahl were, but the two left appeared to be attempting some form of thought as the riekling hoard ignored them to attack Athlain and me in groups of two or three. The clear intent was to maim us and get us down on the ground, where we would have no hope of survival. In fact, when a group of the little death machines saw that the grahl were wavering, half a dozen of them jumped onto one of the ice trolls and- dismembered it. It was terrible and fascinating to watch- like slaughterfish shredding the carcass of a dead horker. In the momentary respite, I decided to get some elevation and leapt onto the table, nocking a couple of arrows. They flew true and dropped two miniature monstrosities that were attacking Athlain, but another pair climbed onto the table with me. With no time to change weapons, I swiped one with the tip of the arrow in my hand, making a nice slice at the base of his throat, and brought my bow down on the head of the other. It didn't knock him unconscious, but it certainly sent his two brain cells running for cover. Before he could gather them back together, I sank a dart into his empty skull through his left eye. The other was clutching his sliced throat, but was still on the attack, so I traded bow for katana and opened him from chin to pelvis.

But there was no time to savor my victory. The table started wobbling and I turned to see that the last of the great ice beasts had grabbed it by the corners and was shaking it back and forth. I was unsure of his plan, perhaps to dislodge me- or maybe turn the table into a giant platter and slide me down his throat? Fortunately, I had other ideas. As the table tilted, I took Dreamer in both hands and crouched to ride down the sloping surface like a ship dropping across the face of a giant wave. I even let my face show that I was enjoying the game and discovered for my effort that there was a difference between a grahl and an angry grahl. Before my blade could reach him, he slammed the table back to the floor and jumped onto the end of it. Since the ice troll weighed considerably more than I did- probably from the rocks in his head- that upset the balance of everything and sent me hurtling into space. I allowed instinct to guide me as I curled into a ball. Sensing the floor beneath me, I got my feet oriented and watched as the table top smacked the stupid beast hard enough that it sent him sprawling. Athlain, moving with a quickness that still surprised me, drove the monster's head into the floor like he was driving a ground spike to hold Cos Mear. I landed and rolled to my feet as most of the remaining rieklings swarmed toward Athlain. As they had made the mistake of forgetting me, I employed our previous plan and sliced their the lower legs as I ran past. And Athlain completed the maneuver by taking a roundhouse swing that bashed each of their hateful little heads.

I was within reach distance of the riekling I had pinned to the wall with my dagger, so I sheathed Dreamer and pulled the smaller blade free, letting the bleeding creature drop to the floor. The last few clustered between Athlain and me and I asked, "Do we try to reason with them so they can live?" I knew what his answer would be, but a part of me wanted a different outcome.

He held his shield in a guard position and his eyes never left the savage rieklings as he spoke, weariness in his voice, " 'Thyna, they aren't civilized. They are wild animals that exist to kill and destroy." He was breathing hard and the strain on his face was evident, but for all that, he still stood as solid as a rock in that hall of carnage.

But still, I had to try. "Where is Dulk?" I was in a crouch, balanced and ready should the need arise. "If you tell us where he is, you may live to see another day."

All I got for my trouble were grunts and moans and growls. Half of them advanced toward me and half toward Athlain. I balled my fist and threw a punch that, courtesy of the enhancements to my gloves, would have felled a charging kagouti. It sent a riekling backwards into one of his comrades, but both jumped to their feet like they'd been tripped by a feather. I tucked my dagger away and used Dreamer's greater length to keep them at a safe distance so that I could more effectively relieve them of their appendages, mostly their heads- since that seemed to be the only way to slow them down.

And then only two remained. Athlain restrained one and I had the other by the throat. "Last chance, you stupid little beast. Where is Dulk?" He kicked with his clawed feet toward my midsection and tore a hole in my leathers. I snapped his neck as payment for his stupidity, and turned to the one Athlain was holding. "And then there was one. Death it is, for that is what you seek. But before you go, where is Dulk?"

He growled out, "throne room" and then tried to turn his head to bite Athlain. My katana found his heart first.



Athynae's headlong charge took me by surprise. Hadn't we just had a conversation about “no rushing ahead to get oneself shredded�? But of course, that was based on the assumption that I was going to be the one to do something so reckless- the rules didn't apply to Athynae. If we survived, we were going to have a serious talk. But for the moment, survival was going to take precedence. A quick glimpse, all there was time for, showed half a dozen grahl and too many rieklings.

Fortunately, Athynae's impulsiveness put paid to one of the ice trolls immediately. However, it also meant we were separated- and now all of the former combatants were staring at the leather-clad, red-haired, sword-wielding half-elf that had just announced her presence like a thunderbolt. It just kept getting better and better. Mostly because, whatever their differences with one another, the trolls and rieklings would much prefer to vent their homicidal impulses on an elf... and on the Legion officer that had been foolish enough to open the door for her insane charge. That thought carried with it a memory from childhood- Athynae, who had started to run almost before she learned to walk- racing out the door of Indarys Manor, in search of some “adventure.� And my own, smaller self, with the word “wait� trapped behind my lips for lack of breath, as I chased after her. But she had not waited then and she was not waiting now, so the only thing for me was to try and keep her alive- “safe� being a forlorn hope that had packed its trunk and departed for unknown shores years ago.

Even so, I shouted, some meaningless cry that tried to express frustration, fear, and possibly even- though I hated to admit it- the joy of fighting against overwhelming odds. On a more practical level, I hoped that my bellow would distract at least some of the monsters from the tasty elf that had landed in their midst. I decided that I would never admit to Athynae that I had just thought of her as “tasty,� not in any context. I needed to take out the remaining grahl as quickly as possible; they were the greater threat, with their longer reach and ability to heal themselves. But to get to them, I needed to make a path through the rieklings. The shield 'Thyna constantly disparaged as a “platter� served that purpose admirably, as I swung it and the Gift in wide arcs before me. Even if the blows didn't kill the little creatures, they took them out of the immediate fight.

Once I had cleared a bit of space, I sought Athynae, wanting to be certain she was still upright- if either of us ever lost our footing, death would come quickly. She was in the process of dislodging a riekling, who appeared to be attempting to gnaw on her arm. Our eyes met and I did my best to express everything I was feeling, but especially the desire that she would use every bit of training and experience she had to survive. I was soon able to do my part to ensure that outcome, as Athynae dropped beneath a grahl's scything claws and I flattened his head from behind. Troll or not, he could not survive while missing such a vital part of himself.

Then it was back to bashing and kicking and punching rieklings. I was beginning to wonder if the little demons were spawning from the very air when a shout from Athynae alerted me to a grahl that had somehow crept up behind me. She followed the warning with a hail of arrows that caused the beast to change direction- a fatal error- for the grahl. I realized then what had been bothering me- other than being in a room filled with creatures that were determined to not just kill, but probably eat me. Athynae was fighting silently, without her usual constant refrain of quips and insults. That, more than anything, told me that she understood how dire the situation was.

Between us though, we had removed most of the ice trolls, which was a mixed blessing, because now the rieklings could concentrate their attacks on fewer targets. In fact, a handful of them swarmed one of the remaining grahl in an wave of thrashing blue arms and legs. I was just as glad that I could not see exactly what was going on in that pile of monsters- but I knew the same fate awaited us if we did not finish this battle soon.

I put paid to another few rieklings and then heard a tremendous rattling sound from the center of the hall. The last grahl was shaking the table upon which 'Thyna stood, trying to throw her to the floor and the waiting rieklings. But the clumsy beast had never dealt with someone as graceful as Athynae Sarethi, and she used her superior balance to make him regret his decision. I was actually looking forward to the collision that was going to result when Dreamer met the ice troll. But even his tiny brain recognized the peril, so he tried a change of tactics. His second choice was as bad as the first, mostly because I was able to slip behind him and do my best to merge his head with the icy floor.

After that, Athynae and I actually worked together like we were supposed to have done all along and took care of the remaining rieklings. To her credit, 'Thyna did try to negotiate with them, but my own bitter experience told me it was a vain effort. And even as the last one told us what we needed to know- the location of Dulk- he tried to bite my arm. For his troubles, he shattered his teeth on the steel plate and Dreamer pierced his heart. The awful episode was over- at least for the moment.

It's funny how Thyna interpreted that look from Alain as he's going to yell at me while he was trying to tell her don't forget your training!!

Hee! Quite enjoyed this melee!

Not easy to have two perspectives on events, but its really not easy to have two perspectives on the same action scene, and still manage to keep it fresh and interesting and in character.

Skilfully done, and a joy to read!