just a quick note - Subrosa, that armour is BEAUTIFUL!

ghastley: Well Teresa does not have to get into shape, so much as get out of shape! Quite an irony there.


Destri Melarg: Sulesa was not a former character, she was created just for this chapter and another.

Teresa does indeed live in Bravil. It really is where she belongs.


haute ecole rider: I just roll my eyes at most of that silly-looking monster armor, not to mention those ridiculous g-strings or Mistress of Domination outfits that people claim are armor. Funny how no one ever posted a speedo for male characters, and called it heavy armor with an Armor Value of 50 and 1000 health...

Teresa's Bravil has a southern gate too. It is the one the ships use to enter and exit the city. I looked at the Better Cities Bravil a long time ago and did not like it. At that time the docks at the southern end of the city was a seperate mod too, which I also tried and did not like. I vastly prefer vanilla to both.


Olen: We will be meeting the title of the chapter this coming segment. Teresa's ability to sense the enchantment's name was something that just popped into my head as I was writing the outline, ages ago. It just felt right, and it ties into the way IRL weapons and armor would often be given names by their wielders. Harald Hardrada's armor was called "Emma" because the mail skirt hung so low.


Grits: The in-game reward for that quest is really lame. It would have been much better if he gave you a magic item based on your highest skill (high Blade, a sword, high Destruction, a staff of fireballs, etc...).

I am not so sure Teresa really wants to learn who her parents were anymore. She is afraid of what she might discover... Like it or not though, it is in the outline.


Acadian: It was pretty obvious that she was going to get that armor at some point, was it not? Otherwise I never would have put it in the story after all. Agronak is indeed much happier in the BF then here in the TF. Rest assured though, we have not heard the last of the drama between him, Sulesa, and Morghak.


D.Foxy: It was gpstr from the Beth forums that turned me on to that armor. It is the Sturdy Miran Talurn armor from Shdw Armor Pack 2. One of his characters was wearing it in a pic, and I fell in love with it at first sight.


Previously on Teresa of the Faint Smile: In our last episode, Teresa and the other fighters heard the news that the Arena Grand Champion - Agronak - was killed in a match. Then she received a gift of a suit of enchanted Miran-Talurn armor from Tadrose and Henantier. Next, she gets a visit from Pappy.


Chapter 38.2 – Ravenfeeder


Teresa stared down at the blank piece of parchment before her. Her quill sat poised above the page, slowly dripping ink into a small, black pool. How could she tell Simplicia what had happened? How could she phrase it so that it would not seem that she had been just a hairsbreadth from being eaten by a monster? How could she tell her that a good man was dead in her place?

A knock at the door to her room rescued her from the unwritten letter. Setting the quill down, she rose from her combination dressing table and desk. A glance in the mirror above it showed that her hair was still a mess from the hood of her new suit of armor. Snatching up a comb from the table, she attacked her fiery tresses with a vengeance. Only after they had submitted did she step to the door and open it.

She found Pappy standing outside. As was often the case after his afternoon training sessions, his chest was bare and beaded with water. A towel was draped around his neck, into which his soaked hair dripped more water. He probably dumped a bucket of it over his head, Teresa imagined. She had seen him do that the first day they had met.

"Got a minute kid?"

"Sure, old man." Teresa shrugged and walked deeper into the room.

"I see Henantier's been here." The Colovian guild commander followed her inside and looked at the green miran-talurn armor that now hung from her arming rack. "How do you like it?"

"It fits." Teresa was about to sit back down in the chair in front of her dressing table. Then she realized that would leave Pappy nowhere to sit but her bed. One look at the water dripping from his muscular frame changed her mind. Instead she sat down upon her rattan bed, which would now remain blessedly dry when she went to sleep later that night.

"Not in the mood for celebrating are you?" The Colovian pulled the high backed chair out from the dressing table and spun it around. He straddled the chair and sat down upon it backwards. Crossing his arms across the headrest, he set his chin upon his wrists and stared back at the wood elf.

"Losing a friend is never easy," Pappy continued. "Especially the way you did. Right now I bet you're playing the could'a, would'a, should'a game with yourself."

"Tadrose already gave me the talk," Teresa murmured.

"I know," Pappy said. "I know what fat little good it ever does too. I'm not here to blow sunshine up your butt."

"So what are you here for?"

"Listen kid, I know what it's like. I've buried friends from one end of Tamriel to the other, and some of them are in those holes because of me. If I've learned anything, it's that everyone deals with this alone, in their own way. Vincent makes bad jokes and plays the fool. Tadrose spends her life in the forge. You do whatever you have to, so you can live with yourself again. You gotta find your own way. If not, it'll destroy you."

"Is that why you chase eighteen-year olds?" Teresa asked pointedly.

"Naw," Pappy winked. "I do that because it's fun!" Then his face took a serious tone once more. "I make moonshine, drink too damn much of it, and I box. How about you kid?"

Teresa shrugged. She did not know anything anymore.

"When's the last time you were out in the woods?" Pappy asked. "It usually seems like you'd rather be out there than anywhere else."

Teresa just shrugged again. She had not stepped beyond the walls of Bravil since Marius had died. She wondered if she ever would again?

"You having second thoughts about the guild?"

"Why would I?" Teresa said.

"It's only natural," Pappy said. "You've seen the silt strider. Now you know just how bad things can get. That's enough to make most people rethink what they are doing. In the legion, a mule doesn't have a choice. He just soldiers on, like it or not. But the guild is different. You can quit anytime you want. A lot of people do when they get to this point."

"Is that what you want me to do?" Teresa stared intently at the human. What was he after? "Do you want me to quit?"

"Akatosh's flaming balls no kid!" The Colovian rolled his eyes. "You're a damn good hand. Damn pain in the neck too! But a good hand."

Teresa knew that at one time she would have smiled faintly at the older man's remark. Now she could not fathom why. "So?"

"So what are your plans?" The Colovian asked. "Are you staying? Or are you going back to the Imperial City?"

"I can't go back," Teresa said. "Not now, not yet."

"So you're staying?" the guild commander said. "Damn kid, if I knew I'd be fishing I'd have brought Aleron Loche!"

"I'm staying," Teresa said simply. She remembered what Cassius Longinus had said: "No matter how far you run, you cannot escape from yourself." She knew well enough that Marius' face would stare at her in the Imperial City - or anywhere else - just the same as in Bravil. Likewise, she knew that would not change whether or not she stayed in the guild. As the long-dead Cassius had also said, there was nothing for her to do but dig in her heels.

"It is our choices in life that define us." Now it was the Emperor's voice that came to her from across the barrier between life and death. He had made his choice. So had his son. How could she do less?

"In that case, I've got something for you." The Colovian stood up and slid the chair back to her dressing table. "I've been waiting to see if you were the right person to have it. Now I think you are."

Teresa furrowed her eyebrows together. And men said women didn't make any sense! She stared after the guild commander as he walked into the hallway. Her eyes nearly leapt from her skull when he stepped back in a moment later.

In his hands was a combined bowcase and quiver, like those Parwen, Daenlin, Dame Buffy, and Alawen carried. Yet where theirs had been made of cloth or varying forms of leather, this was made of several large, overlapping plates. An off-white in color, they looked like the carapaces from some sort of giant insects.

A forest of white and black fletched arrows sprouted from the arrow pockets of the bowcase. So too did a curved shaft of golden wood. Decorated with upraised designs of curling vines and leaves, the sila wood curved up to a straight tip, which Teresa could see was actually a second piece set into the end of the bow.

Screenshot

"This belonged to Hirtuleius." Pappy handed the bowcase to Teresa. "He was an old friend of mine from the legion. After Bruma… Well, he didn't have any next of kin to leave his things to. So I have been hanging on to them, and waiting for the right person to give them to. I think he'd want you to have this. It's name is-"

"Ravenfeeder." Teresa stared down at the golden sila wood under her fingers. Ever since she had first seen a recurved Valenwood bow at the tournament, she had wanted one. Yet it had seemed more likely she would walk upon the surface of Masser before owning one. Now here one was, in her very hands, and she felt nothing. "What is this the case is made from?"

"The gorytos?" Pappy looked at her with what the wood elf imagined was surprise. Whether it was from her knowing the name of the bow - or not knowing what the quiver was made of - she was not certain. "That is chitin, from Morrowind. The Ashlanders use it to make armor and weapons from. Hirtuleius was stationed in Vvardenfell with the Tenth Fretensis - The Legion of the Sea Straits. That's where I first met him."

Teresa drew the curved shaft of the bow from the gorytos, and carefully set the chitin case down upon her bed. She noticed that the quiver portion was divided into two separate pockets. She imagined that would make it easy to carry both broad head and pincushion arrows, and keep them from becoming mixed up. The outside of the case also held several pouches along its outer side, and after opening one, she found several strings of a glossy, silvery material within. Thinking back to how she had seen Parwen string her bow, she took one of the strings in her hand and looped it around the bottom ear of the bow. Then she set one foot between the string and stave, so the bottom siha leaned against her ankle. Bending the stave around her thigh, she tried to pull the other end of the string up to the top siha. Yet no matter how she strained, she just could not bend the stave far enough.

"Here, try it with this." She looked up to see Pappy holding out a ring made of the same dirty-white chitin as the gorytos. Unlike a normal ring, one side of it was longer than the other, and bore a long notch cut into it. She felt the pulse of magicka within the ring as the Colovian dropped it in her hand. "It's a thumb ring. Put it on your right hand, with that long part going out over the pad of your thumb."

Teresa slid the ring over her thumb as instructed, and now she found that the bow bent with ease as she fixed the string upon it. "It fortifies strength then," Teresa said. She raised the bow in her hands, and pulled the string back in her normal three-fingered grip. She found that the string pinched sharply into her fingers however, and gently eased it back.

"You can't draw it like an Imperial bow," Pappy said. "With a bow this short, you get too much finger-pinch. Hook your thumb around the string. You'll find it slides right into the notch in the ring. Now wrap your finger in front of your thumb, and pull it back to your ear."

Teresa did as instructed, and found that she could draw the string back with ease now. "What kind of string is this?" she asked. "It is not flax, or hemp."

"That is Argonian spider silk," the Colovian explained. "It's stronger than plant fibers, and won't stretch out when it gets wet."

"How big is the spider it comes from?" Teresa said.

"Believe me, you don't want to know!" Pappy grinned. Then he stepped to her bed, and drew one of the black and white fletched arrows from the gorytos. Teresa noted that rather than going back in a straight line, the feathers curled around the shaft of the missile in a spiral. It was exactly like those made by Daenlin. She also saw that the swallowtail-shaped head of the arrow gleamed with a golden sheen. That could mean only one thing. It was made of elvish steel.

"Now you don't nock these the same way as an Imperial bow either." The Colovian handed Teresa the arrow. "Don't set the arrow on the left side of your stave, but the right. Then pull it back under your ear, so you feel the feathers against the bottom of your chin."

Teresa did exactly as instructed, aiming at one wall. Like Parwen and most of the other wood elves at the tournament, she found that she could hold the bow at full extension for as long as she wanted to. She had barely been able to keep her longbow there for more than second! If only she had a strength enchantment sooner! Shooting would have been much easier.

Screenshot

"Come on." Pappy stepped to the door. "Let's go out back and you can try it out for real. Just a few shots though, I don't want Marz yelling at me because you blew out your shoulder! Later I'll go talk to Daenlin, and set up a time you can meet for some real pointers."

That's a beautiful bow! Is that a mod you made?

It's good to see Pappy again. I was wondering when he was going to show up and beat some recovery into Teresa's self-confidence. She'll be more cautious in the future, but hopefully she won't lose her determination to always do the right thing.

I remember you and I talking about those bows last year. It looks so different when it's unstrung, but not as strange as the Korean bows. But both the Hun bow and the Korean bow are made very similarly - composites laminated together to form a very strong stave with a great deal of recoil. That certainly adds punch to the arrow at close range!

How I've missed Pappy's trademark wisecracks. And so wonderful to see Teresa coming back into her own sense of humor. I knew Pappy would bring it out of her!

Like Pappy, I do hope she stays in the Fighters Guild. At least for a little while longer.

Excellent screenshot. Only one nit - at full draw she should have been standing with her legs wide apart for stability! If she keeps her legs close like this, she'll rock like a rolling boat as soon as she releases the string...

Only Pappy could force a grudging bit of humor to escape from Teresa’s lips. At least we are finally starting to see her emerge from the swamps of melancholy. The fact that she was sitting at her combination dressing table and desk trying to write a letter to Simplicia is a good sign. That she was searching for the best way to word the letter is a better one.

Pappy's return is attended by his usual no nonsense approach to life (life that is, not eighteen year olds ). He is right, no one can bring Teresa out of the fog. She must find her own way to shore or risk a lifetime adrift.

Someone should have told her that walking on Masser isn’t the only way to receive a Valenwood bow. All one needs to do is play ‘feed the trolls!’ If only that applied to RL as well! I would be fully outfitted as much as I have managed to nourish the ones living in cyberspace!

Now all that is missing is a horse and a horde to make the best use of her new bow!

Not too far from an earlier scenario in a shop in the city. Once she notices the similarity, it might help her tell the story.

Wonderful screenshots, Teresa is well-equipped now! I hope she can let go of any connection she might have made between her gifts and why she needed them. I know I’ve done such a thing, even though it didn’t make any sense.

As was often the case after his afternoon training sessions, his chest was bare and beaded with water. A towel was draped around his neck, into which his soaked hair dripped more water.

Of all the vivid, lifelike images you have shared, I think I like this one the best. I’m not sure though. Perhaps Chance would like to go swimming? Then I could compare.

"It's only natural," Pappy said. "You've seen the silt strider. Now you know just how bad things can get.

I am in awe of this ES-friendly expression!! The whole Pappy talk was as wise and frank as I would expect from him. And a new bow! To the forest!!

A wonderful episode! The coulda woulda shoulda talk bore repeating and it seems like it is beginning to sink in. You do such a wonderful job with Pappy! I’m glad Teresa is staying in her guild and in Bravil - where she has 'family' that cares for her. And I so hope she will be able to move beyond the hollowness she is feeling now.

A lovely mention of some of the other fine archers of Cyrodiil!

What a fabulous rig Teresa has now! I know you will fine tune the description when next you comment, but I believe the bow is from a mod called The Bow of the Mongolian Horseman, only you have given it a lovely elven retexture instead of the brown wood that the mod comes with. Here it is, with its basic brown wood texture: Screenshot

And a thumb ring, new style, silk bowstrings and fabulous rifled arrows! I so hope Teresa allows Daenlin to offer her some advice. I assure you that he well noted the considerable natural talent she displayed during the tournament.

I'd missed Pappy. His manner is exacty what Teresa needs, and he knows it. I suspect he hasn't seen her until now because he didn't think he could get through. Now he has I suspect and Teresa might do whatever she needs to to get over it. Go into the woods? Climb a hill? I wait with interest.

The conversation between them was spot on. Teresa's initial reluctance (though I did note than she brushe her hair before answering the door) slowly leaving into her asking questions and even a little humour. Very well done.


I believe it's called a half truth


What a brilliantly lore friendly thing to make waterproof bowstrings from.

Another thumbs up for the siltstrider line too.

haute ecole rider: I see Acadian beat me to the punch. That is indeed The Bow Of the Mongolian Horseman, which I further modded by replacing the texture with the golden one of the elven bow, and made for sale at The Archer's Paradox.

You will be seeing plenty more of Pappy in the next chapter, as he drives most of the events in it.


D.Foxy: You are going to have to tell Bethesda that, they are the ones that made the animations.


Destri Melarg: You know, one of the things I really miss about TES is that are no plains, and no plains nomads. Although I suppose considering their poor implementation of horses so far, that is a good sign. Still, I think orcs would make for great horse nomads. In the game Earthdawn that is what they were famous for.


ghastley: Simplicia was in the battle at Jensine's shop, so Teresa did not have to lie to pretend it never happened. When Teresa finally does fess up about the trolls, I expect there will be a lot of omissions...


Grits: Maybe we need the Boys Of The Bravil FG calendar? One can easily picture Chance rising from the waves like Daniel Craig, the usually shirtless Pappy, beaded with sweat from a workout, etc...


Acadian: We will be seeing some more mentions of the other archers from the tourney this chapter. Daenlin will make a large appearance in the final two segments. I hope you will enjoy seeing how I characterize him.


Olen: Of course Teresa stopped to fix her hair. Depressed or not, she is still a girl after all! I am glad the silt strider line worked for people. I was working for something like "seen the elephant" that would fit the setting.


Previously On Teresa of the Faint Smile: In our last episode Pappy paid a visit to Teresa, and gave her more advice on dealing with the death of Marius. He also gave her the Valenwood bow that once belonged to Hirtuleius. Our next episode finds Teresa having some rather unpleasant dreams that night.


Chapter 38.3 – Ravenfeeder

Teresa raced through an alley between insulas. The only light was the sanguine glow of Masser overhead, barely visible between the tall stones that rose to either side. Her rag-ensheathed feet splashed through puddles from the afternoon's downpour, and the damp still clung to the threadbare sack cloth that wrapped her small, slender figure.

She heard voices behind her. They were thin, cackling, and came in an infernal chorus. Teresa did not dare turn to look however. She had to run. To waste even a second by glancing back would let them catch her.

Turning a corner, Teresa skidded to a halt at the sight of a vast shadow rising up from the cobblestones in the middle of the alley. It loomed impossibly high, higher than the walls of the insulas, higher than even the stars. The shadow spread its wings with a sound like wet canvas rippling in the wind. The darkness inched down for her, blotting out the moon, and slowly reached for her pale flesh…

Teresa spun about and raced back the way she had come. As she turned the corner once more, she slammed into the hard frame of an older child. Her feet slipped from under her, and the next thing she knew the walls of the insulas to either side were wheeling past her eyes. She felt her back hit pavement, and her skull bounced off the hard stones a moment later.

Stars burst in her eyes, and her head felt like someone had stuffed it full of hot coals. When the world swam back into focus, she found that she was surrounded by the looming frames of older children. Dressed in flax and linen, they were clearly not from the streets, as she was. Given their dark hair and round ears, they were also all human as well.

They laughed and pointed their fingers down at her. Now she began to make out words in the raucous shouting. "Tree-hugger!" cried one. "Bark-Biter!" taunted another. "Freak!" came a third.

Then a foot drove into her stomach, and she doubled over as the air was forced from her lungs. Gripping her midsection, she fought for breath as pain filled her torso. Then came another kick, and another. All the while her ears were filled with the jeers of her tormentors.

"You're a worthless, tree-hugging beggar!" one cried above the others. "That's all you'll ever be freak. Crawl back into the sewer where you belong!"

The stamp of heavy feet and jingling of mail drowned out the taunts. The bullies vanished into the darkness like slaughterfish into the depths of Lake Rumare. When Teresa dared open her eyes again, she saw that now a lone silhouette rose above her. She instantly recognized the outline of the kite-shaped shield he clutched in one hand, the long line of a scabbard that fell from one hip, and the curve of a helm atop the figure's head.

A mail-clad hand reached down and pulled Teresa to her feet. The alley became brighter as a cloud passed away from the face of the moon, bathing the man-made crevasse between insulas with blood-red light. Now Teresa could see her savior clearly. He was an Imperial, wearing the surcoat of the Bravil City Guard. His eyes did not blink as he stared at her, but his lips did move, and the words that spilled forth turned the young Bosmer's bones to ice.

"I died for you," he hissed. "I died for you. Where is my redemption?"

Teresa stifled a scream, and practically leaped from her bed. Looking down at her shaking frame, she found that her linen night tunic was soaked in sweat, along with her pale skin. Brushing the scarlet tresses from her eyes, the forester rose on unsteady feet and walked to her window. Pushing the panes of leaded glass open, she let the crisp night air flood the room around her.

"Marius," she whispered, staring down at her bare legs. She shivered in the cold air, but did not step away from the window. Instead she stepped closer, and leaned her torso outside. The practice yard stretched out under her eyes, dark and silent. Beyond rose the eastern wall of the city, a featureless grey expanse in the wan light of Secunda. A single flickering light bobbed along there, as a guardsman made his rounds across the parapet.

Maybe it was Gaius Prentus? Teresa thought. One thing she knew for certain, it was not Marius Helvius.

Teresa could smell the dampness of Niben Bay beyond, and hear the gentle lapping of the waves against the other side of the city wall. Sliding down to the floor, she lay her head against the window frame and continued staring outside. Cassius had been right. There was nowhere that she could run where she could escape from herself. Nor from the dead eyes of Marius.

Raven help me, she thought, and turned her head to stare at the ceiling above. Please, help me. Closing her eyes, she sat there in the chill air, just breathing. It was not until the guttural cry of a raven broke the silence that she opened her eyes once more.

As if summoned by her thoughts, there was indeed a sleek, black raven perched upon her windowsill, just inches away from her. It turned its head one way and another, regarding Teresa with first one eye, and then the other. Then before she knew what to do, it leapt into the air. Teresa felt her heart sink as she stared after the black bird. First it soared across the practice yard. Then it turned back, and flapped toward her. Teresa could not take her eyes from the bird, and watched until it flew past the guild hall, and vanished somewhere in the night to the west, where the forest lay deep in shadow.

Then the smell came to her. A thick, powerful musk, it was the odor of a wild animal. Teresa closed her eyes, and let the scent fill her body. She knew that smell. It was a bear. Not just any bear either, but Barenziah. In her mind's eye, she saw the mother grizzly standing in the forest. The Larsius flowed by her feet, and the trees rose behind her in a green tapestry. Barenziah stood there at the water's edge, as if beckoning Teresa to join her.

The wood elf found herself reaching out, but before she could sink her fingers into the shaggy hide of the bear, the great beast turned away and shambled into the forest. Teresa stared at Barenziah as she paused at the edge of the trees. The bear waited there, and looked back at Teresa. Once more, the forester had the sense that Barenziah was beckoning her to follow. Then she vanished into the greenery.

"I can't follow you Barenziah," Teresa whispered in the darkness of her room. "I can't."

The forest was death. Teresa thought. It was trolls. They had killed Marius. They had killed Barenziah's cubs. They had nearly killed her as well. She could never go back. Never again.

Yet when Teresa opened the palm of her sweaty hand, she found that her fingers clutched a handful of soft, dark brown fur…

And here we go, confronting the Shadow, which has morphed again due to recent events. And as always, her spirit guides were there to show her the way. Teresa just has to listen to them, and obey. Sometimes surrender is the way to victory.

Sorry, but the tone of this chapter has brought out the philosopher in me . . .

Oh, yes, I found the Bow of the Mongolian Horseman and downloaded it. I like its looks a lot - plain and practical. I'm thinking my Breton mage might like it, if it can keep the big baddies far away from her when her magicka runs out. 'Tis a problem still (at level three).

More facing her shadow. That it extends to the present is nicely done and it was a good way of pointing that out. She's hiding from (or at least haunted by) the incident with the trolls and won't face it. I suppose that adds it to her shadow as a recent addition. She might know it's there but that doesn't mean she knows how to face it, especially given that it's still fresh and undulled by years.

The forest has sort of fallen into her shadow too. She needs to go out there to see bear, raven and the other animals but all she thinks of is the trolls. Understandable and the thing which will change it is going out and seeing it and facing it. This story does tie together extremely well.

Now she needs someone to drag her out there, I doubt the spirits will be able to, yet. But if they went and filled the dreams of a certain armourer perhaps... though that seems improbable in several ways.

That she knows what needs to be done is a good sign, even if she won't do it.

I'm reluctant to speculate, but she's just become a lot better armed and armored than she was in her last encounter with trolls. She also had the misfortune of running into several at once that time. So I expect her next troll to prove a lot less of a problem, but it will remain the bogeyman until she faces one and gets her confidence back. She won't do that for herself, but she'll do it for anyone else, who'll become the avatar of Marius for the event. However, she's got to venture into troll territory to do that, perhaps another escort contract will send her out there?

’Teresa could smell the dampness of Niben Bay beyond, and hear the gentle lapping of the waves against the other side of the city wall. Sliding down to the floor, she lay her head against the window frame and continued staring outside. Cassius had been right. There was nowhere that she could run where she could escape from herself. Nor from the dead eyes of Marius.’
This passage captures how she must have felt after her dream ever so well!

The entire episode was both powerful and beautifully written. It was wonderful to see Raven and Barenziah again, but heartbreaking to realize that Teresa is unable to follow them into the forest - into what has always been her source of comfort. We know she must return, and despite Teresa’s words, I am sure that she will come to know that she must return as well.

What a perfect touch you used throughout!

Now that Raven and Barenziah have said their piece, it’s up to Teresa. I can’t imagine that the support of any friend will sway her when she’s decided that she can’t do what she’s been shown. Which I think is good, since this kind of recovery comes from within.

A very moving episode.

QUOTE

The shadow spread its wings with a sound like wet canvass rippling in the wind.

I just love this sentence; it is wonderfully atmospheric and evocative!

I have to thank you because, after experiencing that dream, I was well and truly depressed! If those are the images that drive her nights it is no wonder that she sleep-walks through the day.

One of the many things that I have always admired about your writing is your ability to engage all of your character’s senses in experiencing the world around them. The sounds and smells of the Bravil night are just as important as the sights, but it is something that most writers would overlook.

By the end of this powerful segment we have a message of hope elicited by the appearances of Raven and Barenziah. Even though Teresa has refused the call, she now knows the location that harbors salvation.

In addition to hautee, I think you have infected me as well!

All: Wow, I was very pleased to read everyone's comments. Sometimes it is difficult to get across everything you want to in your writing. Here I see I actually managed to hit on all cylinders. Everyone is seeing exactly what I had hoped they would. That is a good feeling.


haute ecole rider: Most of the bow mods out there look at silly as the armor mods. All ridiculous spikes. I like to immerse myself in the game, and things like that just make it impossible. I like the BotMH because of how realistic it looks. I like the vanilla city guard armor for the same reason, it is what a Norman soldier would be wearing. Likewise the steel armor, as it is a good representation of 15th Century Milanese plate.


Olen: Someone does indeed need to drag Teresa out to the forest. You are close in your musings about who too!


ghastley: Next chapter will be all about Teresa finally venturing out into the forest, and yes, it will be guild-related.


Acadian: The aftermath of the nightmare was more difficult to write than the dream itself. I am glad it worked.


Grits: Yep, now Teresa just has to get off her lazy butt and stop feeling sorry for herself. Easier said than done of course...


Destri Melarg: Way back when I started writing in my teens, I remember seeing the advice of other writers to fully engage the senses of your character. It is something I try to keep in mind whenever I am writing, even though it is impossible to do all the time without bogging down the story with too much description. Like jalapenos, a little bit seems to go a long way.


Previously On Teresa of the Faint Smile: Out last episode saw one of the nightmares plaguing Teresa's sleep. When she awoke, she found her spirit guides there, guiding her back to the forest. Yet that is a place she now fears, thanks to the death of Marius. Next, Pappy makes good on his promise to have Daenlin give Teresa a few pointers at archery.


Chapter 38.4 – Ravenfeeder

Teresa stood on the parade grounds just outside of the city. The smell of horses - and their droppings - was strong in her nostrils. A glance over her left shoulder revealed the equines and their riders, walking, trotting, and cantering in a circuit around the grassy space. Among them was Ancondil - who ambled along easily upon a blue roan. She also recognized Valerius, who trotted on the back of the same high-stepping black she had first seen at the Wawnet Inn.

Beyond them she could see nearly half-a-dozen city guardsmen. They stood just beyond the road, and the forest loomed beyond them like an ominous green shadow. Apparently the death of Marius had not gone completely unnoticed by the city guard, Teresa mused. A glance to the left revealed the North Bridge and Bay Roan Stables. The very place where Marius had always stood guard.

Her eyes traveled farther west, down the Green Road. She knew that Anutwyll was just out of sight from where she stood, as was Silverbridge. Had it been a week since she had been attacked? Even now, she thought she could see the trolls breaking from cover, hear the howling of their challenges, smell the sickly-sweet stench of death upon their jaws…

With an effort she tore her gaze away. Her fingertips sought out the tuft of fur that she had placed in her pocket before leaving the guild hall. The image of the majestic grizzly from which it had came sprang to her mind, and she found her heart slowing its pace. She closed her eyes for a moment, and concentrated on that mental portrait of Barenziah by the Larsius. Somehow it stilled the dismay that had grown within her, and left her with a feeling of comfort.

With a sigh, she opened her eyes and looked back to her target. Like those used in the tournament, it was a simple iron ring filled with straw and painted with concentric rings. It was set up to one side of the grounds, so the riders would not stray into the line of fire. The vast blue expanse of Niben Bay stretched out behind it, and Teresa wondered if losing one's arrows in the water was meant to dissuade missing?

"Your form is good," Daenlin said as Teresa looked back to the target and buried an arrow to the right of the bullseye. "But you have to learn to stop compensating for the sideways drift of an Imperial bow. With the Bosmer draw your arrows will fly straighter."

Teresa glanced at the wood elf standing beside her. He was slightly taller than her, with a mane of long brown hair brushed away from his face, and a pair of soft brown eyes set above a strong nose and a solid jaw. His frame was sheathed in lean muscle that was plainly visible between the sides of the open fur vest he wore. Similar buckskin trousers wrapped his legs and feet, and a gorytos of wolf-hide hung from one of his hips. Within the combination bowcase and quiver was his own recurve bow, decorated with eagle feathers. Alongside the graceful and deadly weapon rode the same white and black fletched arrows that Teresa now used.

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"I've already noticed that the string doesn't rub against my arm," Teresa said.

"Indeed, that is why the practitioners of Sirya do not wear arm guards," the older wood elf explained. "Just a thumb ring will suffice."

"Sirya?" Teresa asked. "What is that."

"You do not speak any of the elven tongues then?" Daenlin's eyebrow raised ever so slightly. "That is not uncommon for our people who have lived all of their lives in Cyrodiil. Sirya means 'flow'. It is the name of the ancient Bosmer art of archery."

"What I am doing now?" Teresa said.

"This is only the beginning," Daenlin smiled. "But I suspect you have been walking the path for longer than you realize."

"Why is it called 'flow'?" Teresa asked. She readied another arrow, took aim, and loosed. Once more her missile sprouted to the side of the bullseye.

"Because to truly master the art of archery, one must learn more than just the rote of nocking and firing. That is only the beginning." Daenlin said. "The true master must open himself to the world around him. He must feel everyone, and everything, and the connections that bind all together. Archery is not a matter of shooting arrows. It is a spiritual communion with Mundus."

"Sounds like a lot of mumbo-jumbo," Teresa muttered. Once again, her shot drifted to the side. She had not thought it would be so difficult to master the composite bow. Yet after ten years of shooting one way, could she really expect to suddenly do it all differently in an instant?

"You remind me of another Bosmer girl I knew a decade ago," Daenlin smiled. He drew his bow from its gorytos, and fixed an arrow to the string. He looked at Teresa as he raised the bow and drew the string back to his ear. "Individuality is a temporary condition. Be we elves, wolves, trees, or even mountains. When we die we rejoin the divinity that gave birth to us. Then later we return again as a new seeker upon Nirn, with a new identity, and begin the cycle anew. Yet through all of this, we always remain a part of that divinity that is Mundus."

Still looking at Teresa, he loosed. A moment later his arrow blossomed from the center of the target. The forester could only stare in amazement. How on Nirn had he done that, without even looking?

"The archer must learn to feel the flow of divinity around him, just as if he was standing in a river and feeling the water rushing past his legs," Daenlin explained. "All of us are connected by the divine energy we share. Feel those strands that bind us, and you will not need eyes to shoot. Simply allow your arrow to sing along that thread."

"How can I do that?" Teresa breathed. It sounded more like magic than archery, more like Witchcraft.

"If I am not mistaken, you already have been," Daenlin said. "I saw you shoot in the tournament. Remember your final round? How did you shoot then?"

"Rapid-fire," Teresa said. "That was Parwen's idea."

"I suspected as much," Daenlin nodded. "She is an excellent teacher. I am certain you saw how your accuracy changed."

"I got nearly all bullseyes, even at long range," Teresa said. "So I should shoot quickly then?"

"Go ahead and try now," Daenlin suggested, "and we shall see."

Teresa took a deep breath, looked down at her feet, and then raised her eyes back to the target. Without further thought she pulled an arrow from her gorytos and set it to her string. An instant later she felt the fletching tickle against her chin, and she fired. Even as the arrow spun down range, she was reaching for another and setting it to her bow. Then another, and another. She thought of nothing else. There was only her, the target, and the arrows in between.

When she was finished, she stared at the target. Her arrows were clustered tightly in the ring surrounding the bullseye. How was it that she could shoot better when she was not thinking about it, and just doing it? Was that what Daenlin meant?

"There, did you feel it?" the master archer said. "It is not a question of speed. It is a matter of letting your mind be at peace. Let it flow with the world around you, rather than stand apart from it. From this place of calm union comes the most wondrous unfoldment of doing."

"So I am trying too hard?" Teresa said. It was just what she had suspected ever since the tournament.

"Yes, that is exactly it. We practice in order to build muscle memory. So that our bodies know what to do without our conscious thought. That is how bards can still play their lutes even after drinking enough ale to drown an ogre." Daenlin winked. "Once you have instilled that memory, you can let your body do what it knows best. Only in that way can you fully realize your Bosmer gifts."

"Bosmer gifts?" Teresa wondered aloud. "You mean like being able to make friends with animals?"

"That is one of them," Daenlin said. "The one most folk know. What many do not realize however, is that we wood elves are made for using the bow. Our depth perception is better than that of other races, so is our hand-eye coordination, and our ability to judge spatial relationships. Some even say that when using a bow, we have the ability to see what a target will do before it acts. Though I would say that is merely an example of mastering the flow of life."

"But not all Bosmer are archers." Teresa frowned. Adanrel could never hit the broad side of an insula with a bow. In fact, she was more likely to shoot someone by accident rather than on purpose!

"That is very true," Daenlin agreed. "Just as not all Altmer are magicians, and not all Orisimer are warriors. Yet each race does have natural gifts in those areas. Surely you noticed how many wood elves competed in the finals of the tournament?"

"Over half of us were Bosmer," Teresa said. She remembered what Kurz gro-Baroth had said the day after: "We can see which Bosmer wins next year!"

"It is always like that." Daenlin said. "That is not to say that other races cannot produce outstanding archers. Take the creator of your bow for example. He was one of the finest I have ever seen, and a good friend."

"You knew Hirtuleius?" Teresa asked.

"Knew him?" Daenlin's eyes took on a faraway look. "I taught him to make that bow. He and I spent many a morning out hunting in the woods, and many a night sitting around a campfire. Now that man could sing like he was Dibella incarnate…"

"Do you think you could teach me how to make a bow?" Teresa blurted out, "a Valenwood bow?"

"Certainly," Daenlin said. "I think we have had enough for today. Meet me at my shop tomorrow morning."

Whoa, that's not Daenlin! I know, I know, you changed him. Your prerogative, and not necessarily a bad thing. Just my knee-jerk reaction. But it highlights my pet peeve. Why are vertically challenged people so disrespected? Short folks are just as talented, capable, and brilliant (okay, maybe more so ) than taller ones. Yet one can't get respect as a teacher, as a mentor, as a warrior unless one has the height to go with it? That's one of the things I loved about Buffy, that she's short. My current character is short too, and I'm liking it very much as well.

That said, I'm getting off my soapbox now. I am not being critical of your choices with this fiction. Like I said, it's your prerogative. It's just that I think the in-game Daenlin is pretty darn cool just as he is, just as Acadian has portrayed him. Why make him taller? There needs to be more male Bosmer like Daenlin.

Okay, on to the rest of my impressions with this post. I loved the archery lesson. Yes, the new way is vastly different from the other, and it does affect arrow flight. One of the reasons Mongol archers (and Korean, for they learned from the Mongols) are so feared is their accuracy. They can even hit a teeny tiny target from horseback while the horse is at full gallop! How cool is that? So it's wonderful to see Teresa struggling with unlearning how to shoot. And now she finally gets her own Valenwood Bow! It's high time!

All shooting is like - well, it's like golf. You practice, practice, and learn every subtle detail, but in the competition you have to 'just do it'. Doesn't matter if it's a bow or a gun. You blank your mind and just do it.

I enjoyed your description of the stable and (former) tourney grounds. And I loved your take on how Bosmer have natural talents that support archery. Daenlin is indeed perhaps the most qualified elf to elaborate on those.

In several places here, you treat us to familiar connective pieces of TF by mentioning Ancondil, Val, the trolls and, of course, significant mention of the TOA to include how many Bosmers were among the top contenders!

Just a quick refresher for my memory, are the Bosmer of the TF taller than in the game? I’ve wondered before, but forgotten to ask.

The vast blue expanse of Niben Bay stretched out behind it, and Teresa wondered if losing one's arrows in the water was meant to dissuade missing?

I imagine that it would!

Even more than the archery lesson, I enjoyed Daenlin’s what it means to be a Bosmer lesson. I’m glad that Teresa will be spending more time with him.

Teresa's thinking about the bow, not the target. I've found that it even applies to driving a car. Look at where you want to go, not at what you're trying to avoid, and certainly not at the steering wheel!

haute ecole rider: You are right, that is not the same Daenlin from the game. Nor is it the same Tadrose, or Vincent, or Bravil FG Porter, or Fathis, or any number of other characters. I make the characters fit the story I am writing. I did make the male Bosmer taller than in the game. I simply made them proportionate to the females. I see no reason for them not to be. There is never any mention of the males being weaker or less physically imposing than the women, or it being a female-dominated society because of the women's larger size. So I see no reason they should not have the same male/female proportions as the other elf races.

Given the latitudes of Valenwood, it ought to be a hot place (the other provinces at the same latitude are deserts, jungles, and swamps). A tall, slender body is much more suited to shedding heat than a shorter one. Not that I have described them as being unusually tall, like the Altmer or Orisimer. Now the Falmer OTOH, ought to have been short and round, as that body type is best for retaining heat. That actually fits the Reiklings rather well too.


D.Foxy: Some people might say that Teresa's mind is normally blank! Unfortunately, when people are watching her, she tends to begin to overcompensate, and overthink.


Acadian: I have been wanting to show what the Bosmer's inborn talents are for a long time. Not to mention that Ancondil has a horse (he is literally of the equite class after all )


Grits: I did not change the Bosmer women, but I did make the Bosmer men taller, to be proportional.

I was actually thinking the target was at the waters edge so that if someone missed, they would not shoot another pedestrian by accident. But the added incentive of losing your arrow was too much not to mention.


ghastley: She will get there. She is just fine when the teacher is not watching her in fact!


Previously on Teresa of the Faint Smile: In our last episode, Teresa finally met Daenlin, and learned of the spiritual side of Sirya - the Bosmer discipline of archery - from him. In the final episode of this chapter, we find Teresa at his shop the following morning.


Chapter 38.5 – Ravenfeeder

The Archer's Paradox was a typical Bravil building. Constructed of wood rather than stone, it rose two stories on the south side of the river that divided the city. The interior was dominated by a long counter that cut through the center of the building. To the left it was bordered by a stair that ran up to the second floor. On the other side it turned back at a right angle and ran farther back into the store in an 'L' shape.

Atop the counter was a glass case holding numerous thumb rings set into a soft velvet backing. Stretching down the counter alongside it was a plethora of arrows. There was a swallowtail of elven steel, a pincushion of human metal, a bronze-shaded crescent of Dwemer inspiration, even one of softly glowing meteoric glass, and another of gleaming ebony. It seemed as if there was one missile of both every material and shape imaginable.

After the arrows, where the counter turned to the back of the shop, was an upraised case. Within bowstrings of various materials hung in easy view. They too ranged from simple hemp and flax to the exotic spider silk which Ravenfeeder sported. Beyond that was another pair of glass cases, one containing shooting gloves for those who used the Imperial draw, and another with leather forearm guards.

The walls were lined with unstrung longbows of various colors and lengths. Again, the weapons came in a variety, from smaller ones that appeared to be meant for children, to much larger ones that were too heavy to be meant for only hunting, and everything possible in between. There was even a single bow of overlapping chitin plates, like the one Zerina Sarethi had used in the tournament. Teresa also noted a small bookcase containing volumes that she imagined might be about archery, given that one was entitled The Black Arrow.

"Welcome to The Archer's Paradox!" The voice that rang through the shop was not that of Daenlin, but rather of another Bosmer who stood behind the counter. Like most elves, his skin was smooth and ageless, leaving Teresa to guess his years as being anywhere between twenty and two hundred. The top knot that held back his long brown hair gave him an air of youth however, as did the bright sparkle in his eyes. "I am Angalor," he continued with a mock bow, "and I am always at the service of a sister of the forest."

Teresa stared blankly at the man. Was he flirting? Did she really care? "I am here to see Daenlin," she said simply. "He is expecting me."

"Oh yes, you are Teresa of the Faint Smile!" The forester saw the light of recognition kindle in the other Bosmer's eyes. "I saw you in the tournament. I almost did not recognize you without the leather armor and the longbow." His eyes traveled to the gorytos at her hip. "I see you have moved up to a true Valenwood weapon now."

Teresa let one of her hands fall to the upper ear of Ravenfeeder. She felt its magicka bubbling under her fingers, as she did every time she touched the weapon. It reminded her of the energy within the nightshade poisons that she enchanted. Only there was more to it than just poison. There was something else too, that she was not familiar with. Pappy had said that the bow would not only automatically poison every arrow she set to the nock, but also make her targets more vulnerable to it. Even those immune to poisons - such as Argonians - would be envenomed by Ravenfeeder's bite.

The sound of feet trundling down the stairs caused Teresa to turn her gaze. Following the noise was Daenlin. Like herself, the master archer wore simple brown linen. However his tunic was not nearly so low-cut, and he was still doing up the last of its buttons as he stepped upon the boards of the ground floor.

"My apologies for being late," the master archer said, stifling a yawn. "It was a late night."

Teresa stared at the master archer. He looked no older than Angalor or herself, yet her time with him had given Teresa the impression that he was. That was the way of her race. The only other elves she had known in the Imperial City had been her own age. So she had never learned to tell an old elf from a young one simply by looking at them. The ages of humans on the other hand, were so easy to discern. One could always see the tracks of the Time Dragon's feet upon their features.

Daenlin motioned Teresa to follow as he walked around the counter, and opened a door under the stairway leading up. There Teresa found another stair leading down to a basement lit by glowstones, and it was here that the wood elf led her. It was a simple, one-roomed affair packed with barrels and crates. The archer stepped to one of the latter and lifted its lid. From within he drew forth several long pieces of sila wood, easy recognizable by its distinctive golden shade.

"First we will start with the wood itself," Daenlin explained, handing her the pieces before once again rising up the stairs. "We will shape it, then in time we will go out and collect the other materials from the forest."

Back on the ground floor, the master archer motioned for Teresa to sit across from him at a long table whose surface was notched and battered. Sitting upon it was an a small wooden box with hand-holds cut into the sides. Within were numerous tools. Teresa saw a small saw and a variety of carving knives. There were also gouges of varying shapes, some with only a shallow 'U' shape, all the way to another with a very sharply pointed 'V' design. There was even a wooden mallet.

"Before we start, let us take a look at Ravenfeeder, so you know how your new bow will all look once we are finished." Teresa obliged the older elf by drawing the unstrung recurve bow from her gorytos and setting it on the table. "As you know a composite bow is made of several different materials, starting with the wooden core. We do not use a single piece of wood as with an Imperial bow, but rather several smaller parts, that we will glue together. Sila is of course preferred, as it can endure stresses that would snap any other wood. But maple or mulberry will also work if the sila cannot be gathered."

"That only comes from Valenwood right?" Teresa asked as she stared at the delicately carved golden wood before her.

"Yes," Daenlin said. "Sila grows nowhere else in Tamriel. Unlike the other trees in Valenwood, it can only be harvested with the permission of the Tree-Singers."

"Tree-Singers?" Teresa felt her eyebrows raise in confusion. "Who are they?"

"How can I describe them?" Daenlin leaned back in his chair. "In Valenwood we have no temples. The forest itself is our holy place. But the Tree-Singers might be called our priests and priestesses. Imperials would name them Witches. They walk the forest, singing to the trees. It was they who learned to speak with the sila at the dawn of time, and they remain the only elves who can do so. It was they who taught the trees to wander the hills and dales of Valenwood, and it was they who brought them together to form our cities, high in their branches."

"No sila can be felled without their permission, for they are the guardians of the forest. It is not a common event, for only when a sila is nearing the end of its life, or has been badly harmed by storms or fire, that harvesting is performed as a mercy to the tree. When it does happen, every inch of the wood is saved, and the acorns are scattered so that future generations will rise once more. To us nothing is more precious than the sila. They are the beating heart of Valenwood itself."

Teresa remembered the times she had sat with the trees. When she had felt down into their trunks, through their roots, to the damp soil beneath. She remembered sitting with the ancient cedar near Bawn, and how she had watched the centuries roll past from its perspective. Was that what a Tree-Singer did? Could not everyone do that?

"We should have the wood shaped in a few weeks, then another week or two for the carvings on it. Then we will have to gather the horn. It is used in long, straight pieces glued here on the belly of the bow." The bowyer's hand traced along the inner side of the bow, that faced Teresa when she drew it. "Those of water buffalo are best, as are those of the ibex, for they are not only strong, but thick and straight. Both are plentiful in Valenwood, but they cannot be found in Cyrodiil, except near Leyawiin. So we will have to make a trip to hunt one."

"After we give that a few months to dry, we will need sinew for the back of the bow." Now his hand traced the outside edge of the bow. "We can get that from regular deer however. From the lower legs is best. We will glue it on, and when it dries, it will shrink, pulling the stave into its curved shape. After we give that a few more months to set, we will only need to glue on the sihas at the ends, and after they dry we will lacquer the entire thing to water-proof it. Composite bows are very vulnerable to moisture. I use fish glue to counter that, but you still do not want to get it wet."

"Wait a moment, we have to kill animals to make this?" Tersea blinked, staring down at the weapon before her.

"Of course," Daenlin said. "That is part of being an archer."

"I can't do that," Teresa insisted. "I won't."

"You must," Daenlin insisted. "I cannot do this for you. To be an archer is to be a killer. Not just any killer either, but one who takes life from a distance, silently and unseen. The bow is an instrument of death. To make one, you must understand its nature, and be prepared to wield its power with the responsibility it demands."

"I can kill, but not defenseless animals." Teresa shook her head. "Never. No water buffalo or antelope ever meant me harm, or ever will. I will not murder them."

"It is not murder." Daenlin ran the fingers of one hand back through his hair, and Teresa could see that he was becoming annoyed. "It is the natural cycle of life in the wilderness. Is the wolf evil for killing an elk and eating it? Of course not, it is just doing what it was made for. Elk are not helpless. Few wolf hunts actually succeed. Only the old, sickly, or otherwise infirm are brought down. But this prevents the animals from overpopulating the forest and devastating its plant life. That would lead to starvation for all. The hunter is no different. We are a part of the natural order of the forest."

"I am not a wolf," Teresa said. "I understand the need for what they do. They are my friends, the same as the other animals. But that is not what I am."

"Teresa, remember what I said yesterday about the flow?" Daenlin reached out with one hand and made a show of pinching the flesh around his other forearm. "These bodies of ours are transitory, just temporary shells our divinity wears while we walk upon this world. Animals, trees, even the mountains and seas, are no different. Every animal in the forest is divine. They are spirits that have chosen to take flesh upon Nirn. When we kill them, we are freeing their divinity to return to Aetherius, until they choose to return once more. It is not murder, but a holy act, a divine sacrifice which ensures the survival of those that remain behind here on Nirn."

"If you are to be an archer Teresa, you must learn to accept these truths," Daenlin continued. "You must become a wolf. For by using a bow, you are a predator."

Teresa stared at the weapon before her. Where she had first thought of it as a work of art, now she wondered what poor deer - or buffalo - had died to create it?

"What is this made of?"

"Ravenfeeder is no ordinary bow, even among composite ones." Daenlin leaned back once more. "Hirtuleius believed in challenging himself. He used to say that if you did not test yourself every day, you stopped growing. So he hunted the most deadly foe, one more likely to kill him than he it. He went into the forest alone, and slew a minotaur lord to create Ravenfeeder. I told him that he was a damn fool, but he only laughed at me. He said that he would die one day, no matter what. So long as he lived life to its fullest, he said he had nothing to fear from death. For he would leave no regrets behind when he left this world. As we say in Valenwood: hoka hey - 'today is a good day to die'. He was more an elf than he ever knew."

Teresa stared at the bow, and thought of how prophetic Hirtuleius' words had been. He had indeed died at Bruma. She wondered if he had really meant what he said, about not fearing death? Had he met his end with no regrets? Had Marius? Had the minotaur whose body made up part of this bow before her?

She stared at the bow. Daenlin was right. It was an instrument of death. Was she responsible enough to use it? She reached out and stroked her fingers along the horn that sheathed its inner edge. A minotaur's horn, she thought to herself. She had only seen them once, in Henantier's dream. They had been creatures of nightmare indeed. Half bull, half man, bundled together with sheer ferocity. She had been lucky to survive then, even with a staff of lightning. They were indeed far from helpless animals. Rather like goblins, ogres, or trolls, they attacked and killed anyone they saw without hesitation.

Perhaps that was why Hirtuleius had sought one out. Minotaurs were forces of destruction. What would be more appropriate for a weapon? Pappy had once said that like trolls, they were not natural at all, but rather the result of magical intervention. In any case, she could not ever imagine one being her friend, or anyone else's. Would that make it alright for her to use the bow?

"Dame Buffy is your foster daughter right?" Teresa chose her words carefully as her eyes moved across the bow that lay upon the table between them. She waited for the older elf to nod before she continued. "Would you kill her, and use her bones and sinew to make a bow? Or Nilawen? Or Angalor?"

"Of course not!" Daenlin exclaimed. "They are people. What would make you think I would do such a thing?"

"I didn't," Teresa said evenly. "What you don't understand is that to me, the deer and the other animals are people too. They are no different to me than you are."

"What about fish?" Daenlin leaned forward again, steepling his fingers together before his face. He no longer looked peeved. Rather he seemed thoughtful.

"They are different," Teresa looked away from his gaze. "I cannot say why. Maybe because they don't have families, or feelings. At least not that I can tell. Or maybe I'm just a hypocrite."

"Or maybe because they are not from the forest?" The master archer raised one eyebrow. "You sound more like a Tree-Singer than an archer. Are you sure you are walking the right path in life?"

Teresa shook her head. Ever since Marius had died, she was not sure of anything.

The moral dilemma is subtle indeed. It will be hard for Teresa to find the path that she can walk on comfortanbly: for what we gain by following one path we also lose as well.

I shall read with much interest to see which path she follows!

It had occurred to me early in this post that Daenlin could be describing Teresa herself when he was discussing the Tree-Singers. Her ability to commune with them is uncanny, much as a spriggan herself is uncanny.

It is interesting that you present the Bosmer as a sort of Native American spirituality. I agree with that, actually. They lived very closely with their environment, as they still do in the Amazon basin. And I like their method of harvesting trees. Much more consistent with nature, though they are removing the sila wood from the circle of life, for even in death there is life.

And the quandary - where to draw the line? Fish have feelings too - the octopus is one of the most intelligent nonvertebrate forms dwelling in the ocean, which is why I cringed when they declared octopus the secret ingredient on America's Iron Chef recently. They are so well adapted to their environment that we fail to understand or appreciate the depths of their experience. Heck, the sharks probably see us as stupid, awkward swimmers! I could never understand the distinction between fish and land-dwellers like chickens, cattle, and sheep.

One has to be careful about setting boundaries on life. For life excels at blurring boundaries. Rather, it is best to see all life as occupying a continuum, not just in two directions but in multiple directions.

’The ages of humans on the other hand, were so easy to discern. One could always see the tracks of the Time Dragon's feet upon their features.’
Having a few dragon tracks across my face, I love it when any of us draws out the differences between elven and human life spans. And you certainly did so beautifully here.

I love the philosophy of showing one’s respect as a steward of the forest by limiting what you harvest and, when you do take something, ensuring the full measure of respect to its spirit through full utilization of every part. How wonderful that you are explaining this via the forests of Valenwood. Daenlin taught Buffy the same philosophy when it comes to taking a deer from the forest. He further taught her the same companion truth that he just shared with Teresa that the spirit of a taken deer will be set free and, if gratefully encouraged, will return to live again.

In fact you do a lovely job of describing both the valid philosophy of the Bosmeri hunter and the valid philosophy of Teresa in rejecting the hunt. This is so wonderfully done because our anchor perspective is that of Teresa. And here you show us that she has values, an open mind and most importantly that she recognizes she doesn’t have all the answers.

Lastly, I am so pleased that, as we have discussed several times, neither of us ascribe to ‘The Green Pact’ in our fictions and consider it to be a failure by Bethesda.

I thoroughly enjoyed every bit of this episode!

Nit: "We will shape the it, then in time we will go out and collect the other materials from the forest."
I’m guessing the bolded word should simply be deleted as perhaps left over from a previous edit?

One could always see the tracks of the Time Dragon's feet upon their features.

I liked this bit too, although he had me thinking that in my case it was the tracks of the Soup Dragon around my waist. (Any other Clangers fans here/)

"Yes," Daenlin said. "Sila grows nowhere else in Tamriel, and it can only be harvested with the permission of the Tree-Singers."

I love this notion. It fits Teresa so well, much better than the Green Pact business (that I’m still struggling with).

It was a relief to me that Daenlin explained the natural order of the forest to Teresa. She might not agree with him, but at least she’s heard an opinion that’s different from hers and really listened.


"They are different," Teresa looked away from his gaze. "I cannot say why. Maybe because they don't have families, or feelings. At least not that I can tell. Or maybe I'm just a hypocrite."

Ah, the old fish don’t have feelings argument. It makes me think about parental behavior and imprinting among the Lake Rumare Slaughterfish. Too bad I don’t have a biologist character. Anyway, I love that Teresa is questioning her assumptions. Love it!

D.Foxy: That dilemna of which way to go is something I have wanted to emphasize, because as you pointed out, going one way means losing something else.


haute ecole rider: The bosmer spirituality is really just taking the way Bethesda says things work, and putting it in a real life framework. Except for their conservation of the sila of course. I also was happy that it came so similar to Native American spirituality. That means I am making it believable. That is why I wound up using the term hoka hey near the end. At that point I felt I might as well embrace it.

I am also glad you noted the issue with boundaries. Ultimately it comes down to just drawing an arbitrary line, as it is just one long and slippery slope. At one end you can become so worried about harming anything that you cannot even eat a mushroom, and starve to death. Or at the other you can end up a homicidal cannibal. Teresa has never really explored why she sets the ones she does. Her talk with Daenlin at least makes her realize that she has never consciously done so. She might start re-evaluating things in the future.


Acadian: Just as with the archery lesson in the preceding episode, Daenlin's spirituality lesson in this one was a long time coming. I was so glad to finally get to the point where I could make it happen. I enjoyed writing Daenlin immensely. Teresa's life would have been so different if she had a mentor like him as a child.


ghastley: I had to look up the Soup Dragon, as it is the wrong side of the ocean for me. But quite appropriate!


Grits: I could never reconcile the Green Pact silliness. In a real world, it would doom its practitioners to extinction. It is one of those many Bethesda idea that I had to just ignore.

Teresa has always understood the law of the jungle. She learned it on the street in fact! That is why she doesn't go postal on everyone wearing fur coats, or eating steak. She has just never had the heart to take an animal's life herself. That will probably never change. But you never know. Marius' death has forced her to re-examine many things in her life.

OTOH, she has no qualms about killing fish and crabs. There is no real way for me to say it in the context of the ES world, but they are not mammals, so she just cannot identify with them in the way she can with a critter that is warm-blooded and fuzzy.


Previously on Teresa of the Faint Smile: In our last episode Teresa learned that to make Valenwood bow, she would have to kill animals for their sinew and horn. She could not do this, and had a long discussion with Daenlin about Bosmer spirituality. In the end, the master archer could not change Teresa's mind, although he did make her wonder if perhaps she is not meant to be an archer, but a Witch instead? Our next episode begins a new chapter, and finds Teresa trying to find some measure of peace.


Chapter 39.1 – Picking Flowers

30th Frostfall - 1st Sun's Dusk, 3E433

Teresa walked along Lady Street and looked for a good tree. While there were plenty of them within the city walls, they were all either in the street - with low barriers of stone to keep traffic from bustling into them - or at the very edge of those thoroughfares. Neither were the kind of place where she could sit down and forget about the rest of the world.

She had nearly reached Chapel Way when she finally came upon a cherry tree that was set back from the road. Its small, gnarled frame rose at the mouth of an alley between two wooden buildings. There was just enough space for a person to walk between it and the walls of the homes to either side, and the wooden porches of each building ended just before its trunk.

Teresa stepped up to the tree and sat down beneath its branches. Leaning back against the short trunk, she reached with one hand and felt the rough bark beneath her fingers. Closing her eyes, she tried to shut out the people and animals walking past in the street. Instead she tried to feel what the tree did: the soft breeze through her leaves, the dry soil around her roots, and the sap coursing through her trunk. There was nothing but her and the tree. Nothing else in the world existed.

"What's she doing there?"

The voice knifed through the darkness, bringing Teresa back to reality.

"Shhh, she's probably a beggar!"

The forester resisted the urge to open her eyes, and tried to block out the sound of hard-soled shoes clomping away along one of the porches. Breathing deeply and slowly, she once again concentrated on the tree. She felt its bark against her back, and tried to think of nothing else. She was just beginning to sink away into the feeling once more, when the bray of a mule snapped her back to reality.

"Damnit Number Seven!" a man's voice rang out. "Move your lazy carcass!"

Another of the 'hee-haw' sounding brays answered the man, and Teresa could no longer keep her eyes closed. In the middle of the street before her stood a Breton with a snowy beard, and equally white strands of hair fell from beneath his wide-brimmed hat. He was dressed in worn buckskins. An unstrung longbow was slung over his shoulder, and a hand axe was tucked into his waist belt.

A brown mule with a white muzzle stood before the Breton. The animal was laden with numerous bags and packs, although he seemed oblivious to their weight. Still, no matter how the man tugged at his lead, the mule refused to budge an inch from where he stood in the road. Instead he seemed content to simply stare back at the old man, who threw his hat down in the street and began cursing a blue streak.

Teresa shook her head. It was clear that she would get no peace here. Rising to her feet, she cast her gaze farther westward. She could see where Lady Street ended at the intersection with Chapel Way. Beyond that she could see the wrought iron fence of the cemetery. Tall willow trees rose up within its confines, promising cool shade to all who sheltered beneath their drooping leaves.

The dead face of Marius Helvius rose up in Teresa's memory, soaked in blood and helmet knocked away. She turned her gaze away from the graveyard. She would find no serenity there either.

With a heavy sigh, Teresa turned and walked in the opposite direction. There was nowhere else to go except back to the Fighters Guild.

* * *

Teresa frowned as she stared into her storage cupboard in the guild's alchemy lab. Many of the glass jars were empty, and most of the others nearly so. How had it all vanished so quickly? She had gathered ingredients during her trip to Bawn earlier in the month. But that had been mainly nightshade, bergamot, and arrowroot. What she needed now was summer bolete and lavender, neither of which were present. She needed to gather more materials, and soon.

But how was she going to do that?

"How are we doing on those potions?" Pappy leaned over his still at the other side of the lab.

The copper contraption reminded Teresa of her own alembic and collection flask, except that the still was much larger. It's condenser was diamond-shaped, and stacked directly atop the boiler. Several copper tubes ran about it, and so far as Teresa could tell, they directed the condensed liquid right back down through the rising vapors. Pappy had once told her it was a reflux still, and actually re-distilled the alcohol many times, rather than just once. For not the first time, Teresa wondered if she could use the same kind of apparatus for her alchemy?

Screenshot

As Teresa watched, the Colovian poured a clear liquid from the spigot of the still into a chipped redware cup. After taking a tentative sniff of the brew, he knocked back a mouthful. Then he turned and offered Teresa the cup.

"Try some of this," he said. "It'll put hair on your chest."

"I like my chest the way it is now." Teresa frowned. "What is that anyway? I thought you were making soju?"

"Naw, that Argonian rice syrup is too damn sweet," Pappy declared. "This is good old Wrothgarian vodka, just like the orcs make."

"That explains all the potatoes I saw down in the kitchen," Teresa said.

"Aye, I got them special from Orsinium, so I could get the taste right." Pappy drank another mouthful of the alcohol. Teresa noted that he winced ever so slightly as the liquid hit his tongue. "So don't you use them for dinner! You can make mashed potatoes from those spuds they grow in Chorrol."

"Too bad I can't use them to make potions," Teresa said. She turned to look back at her cupboard. "I heard a bard telling a story of how Galerion the Mystic made shield potions from potatoes yesterday."

Pappy rolled his eyes. "A bard couldn't pour piss out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel," he spat. "If people could really make potions from peas and carrots, then healing potions wouldn't be twenty drakes a bottle at the Mages Guild. Don't even get me started on what a cure disease costs…"

"Well, we have plenty of mandrake still, so that's not a problem," Teresa said as she stared down at a jar of brown powder. "But we're out of lavender and summer bolete. I can't believe how many potions we go through."

"Well it's like I tell you meatheads: 'when in doubt, drink the stout'," Pappy said. "Those potions save lives. It's your job to keep them stocked."

Teresa said nothing. She simply stared down at the empty jars. She had been certain there had been more ingredients. But she had not looked in weeks. Not since Marius had died.

"Marz gave you a clean bill of health, so let's go out tomorrow morning and see what we can dig up," Pappy said. "The weather hasn't gotten too cold yet. I'm sure we can find some of your mushrooms and flowers."

Teresa bit her lip. Was he really offering to go collect ingredients with her? But that would mean that she would have to go back into the forest, where the trolls were. She could not do that. But how could she say no to her guild commander, when they both knew how much they needed the potions?

"Okay," she found herself saying. "After the morning workouts?"

"We'd miss half the day then." Pappy shook his head. "We'll go first thing in the morning. Tadrose can lead the workouts."


Note: The mule and mountain man in the first scene are an homage to a t.v. show in the '70s. Can anyone guess what show, and the names of the characters? (well, the mule's name is the same here as in the show).

Pappy rolled his eyes. "A bard couldn't pour piss out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel," he spat.

LOL. Pappy makes me smile. And we learn a little more about alchemy in the TF.


Teresa said nothing. She simply stared down at the empty jars. She had been certain there had been more ingredients. But she had not looked in weeks. Not since Marius had died.

Do I detect the hand of a commander perhaps with the collusion of a vice-commander pushing Teresa out to the woods? Yay.


Sorry, I have no idea about the mountain man and the mule. I’m old enough, but I didn’t have a TV in the 70s.

Mad Jack!! *looks around* Where's Adams and Ben?

And Potato Vodka on the Fourth of July! If there is anyone who is cooler than Robert "Pappy Boyington" Conrad, it's Steve "Cooler King" McQueen! I adore this nod to my favorite movie of all time!

And 'way to go, Pappy! Offering to go with Teresa on an ingredient hunt might - just might - go a long way toward getting her back out in the forest where she belongs.

Denver Pyle had a monopoly on the "Old Mountain Man" parts for a while, so it was likely one of his, but I don't remember that particular mule, so I can't guess the series (Not the Clangers, although the era is right).

Two very distinct scenes.

In the first, I felt for poor Teresa as the forest elf afraid to go into the forest sought a domesticated tree for comfort and even that eluded her. I also found Number Seven and Mad Jack delightfully recognizable and applaud you for adding touches of pure fun like that! It was a perfect distraction and touch of welcome humor. He is exactly the type of character one might expect to see wander into Bravil.

In the second scene, I was settling in for a fine bit of Pappy humor. In fact I could identify with drinking soju just south of the Korean DMZ. Then you delivered us a magnificent turn that elevates his character beyond anything you have done with him. He’s going to pass morning PT on to his XO and personally take Teresa into the forest. That man knows exactly what she needs and my heart swelled to see him really deliver here. Yay Pappy! I also think that her guild being low on alchemy supplies is the perfect catalyst to use to push her back into the woods. Now. . . I hope Teresa doesn’t spoil things by checking Pappy’s locker for ‘borrowed’ alchemy ingredients that have mysteriously disappeared? Nah. . . I’m sure it was just through normal guild usage.

I'm old enough (I turn 58 on Friday), I did have a TV in the seventies, but I didn't watch it, so I'll just guess Grizzly Adams.

<fart type="old">
Yep, Number Seven was from Grizzly Adams all right. Back when you watched a teeny-weeny black and white picture on the screen... and liked it.
</fart>

Three chapters to comment on:

38.4

So I see you’ve even prettied up your Daenlin! (did that sound weird? ) It is strange to think that someone who looks barely old enough to have earned his first bow is a master with many years of experience. But then I have to remind myself that even your Daenlin might be several centuries old. Elves!

It did sound like he had been reading Zen and the Art of Archery. I find it amusing that Teresa, who has just experienced a conversation with a ghost, and who regularly experiences timeshifts and communion with her spirit guides, thinks that Sirya sounds like ‘mumbo-jumbo’! I am glad that Daenlin has the patience to see behind the words to the fear that fuels them. His gentle counsel is just what the healer ordered.

38.5

I appreciate Daenlin’s lecture on Bosmeri religious practices. Are your Tree Singers similar to the ones found in Guild Wars? No, I guess not. Considering the use of ‘hoka hey’ my guess is that you’ve adopted a more Native American feel to your Bosmer. That brings to mind a question: Do you think ‘hoka hey’ was the last thing that Custer heard at the Little Big Horn?!

I like Teresa’s justification for not wanting to shoot any ‘helpless’ creatures of the forest. Not because I think that she is right, but because she retains enough self-awareness to point out the hypocrisy in her own feelings. She may question the veracity of the path that she has chosen, but I think she revels in the danger excitement of it too much (well, except right now of course) to ever change.

*This isn’t a nit or a rant. It is more of an observation. I have to respectfully disagree with your treatment of the Green Pact. Could the fact that you find it so silly stem from judging it with a strictly earth-bound sensibility? Personally I am of the mind that it is the single most interesting and unique thing about the Bosmer, and discarding it entirely takes something away from the race as a whole IMHO. As I see it the Green Pact prohibits the use of wood or vegetation grown in Valenwood as building material, and it requires that the Valenwood Bosmer be strict carnivores. Even our earth-bound sensibilities acknowledge that carnivores occasionally eat plants as well. And our resident vet can speak upon this better than I, but strict carnivores still receive plant nutrients from eating the contents of the stomachs of their prey, which are, for the most part, herbivores. The Green Pact doesn’t place the Bosmer under the yoke of following it when dealing with wood or vegetation from any other region, so those choosing a more varied diet can always move elsewhere (though probably not to Elsweyr), and those looking to build can always import the needed materials. Furthermore, The Green Pact ties the Bosmer to their most important deity, Y’ffre, in a way that nothing else does.

I am just saying that I would have loved seeing Teresa placed into a situation in which she had to acknowledge the existence of this Bosmeri spiritual practice. Since she was born in Cyrodiil she would have as much to do with the Green Pact as the average Imperial, but it is a part of her nonetheless. Seeing how she embraces it, comes to grips with it, or shuns and abhors it would have made for some interesting chapters, especially since she could have acted as the surrogate to air your own feelings about the stupidity of the concept.*

Sorry, it was not my intention to debate this issue with you. Your changes to Bosmeri spirituality ground them to Valenwood as much (if not more) than Bethesda intended with the Green Pact. I’ll just go over there and stand quietly in the corner for awhile . . .

39.1

. . . Okay I’m back. Why do I get the feeling that we are going to see Grizzly Adams, er the Breton with the snowy beard and wide-brimmed hat, again? Maybe the reason that the tree didn’t answer Teresa is that it was afraid that she was trolling for her dinner!

Pappy chooses just the right time and just the right reason to push Teresa back into the forest. I am so glad that he is going to accompany her. Now all they need to do is run into a couple of trolls. After all, when you fall off the mule, er horse, the best thing to do is jump back on again!


Yeah! That is when your view wasn’t compromised by standing off to the side with one foot in the air holding the wire hanger in one hand, and the tin foil in the other!

Grits: Push Teresa out in the woods? Would Pappy and Tadrose do that?


haute ecole rider: Got it! Grizzly Adams is one of my inspirations for writing Teresa. So when I was looking for an annoying distraction, Mad Jack and Number Seven just leapt onto the page. I have to confess though, that Pappy's vodka was not inspired by The Great Escape. I have not seen it in so long, I forgot that scene was even in the movie! To be honest, until recently I just assumed that all vodka was made from potatoes. I was surprised when I looked it up and found its also made from grains. That just doesn't seem right.


ghastley: Denver Pyle it is. I think he was Uncle Jessie in The Dukes of Hazzard too? My favorite Mountain Man is Brian Keith, from The Mountain Men. "Hmmm... been fearsome confused for a month or two, but I ain't never been lost!"


Acadian: I hope Teresa doesn't check Pappy's locker either! Or Tadrose's! It is nice to see how many people are jumping to the conclusion that either one or both of them have a hand in Teresa's need to go gather more ingredients. Not saying any of you are wrong mind you...


MyCat: Guessed right! I remember watching Grizzly Adams when I was little.


Cardboard Box: I had a little 13 inch black and white in my bedroom when I was young. I loved it! I used to stay up past my bedtime to watch Wild Wild West with the sound down way low so my parents could not hear it.


Destri Melarg: Oh, its not at all weird that you noted another man was pretty! Don't worry, I'll keep it on the down low though. I am glad his archery lesson sounded like zen archery. That is what I was aiming for. I just could not use the word "zen" because of the setting. It would be nice to see Mad Jack and Number Seven again wouldn't it? Maybe I can work them into a future chapter somehow.


Previously on Teresa of the Faint Smile: In our last episode Teresa found that she cannot commune with the trees of Bravil like she can in the wilderness, because there are too many distractions. She also found that the guild is low on alchemy supplies, and Pappy suggested insisted they go ingredient hunting the next day. Next, we find Teresa waking up in the morning, and preparing for her sojourn into the forest.


Chapter 39.2 – Picking Flowers

Teresa rose from her bed and stripped off her night tunic and loincloth as the first rays of Magnus crept into her room. Naked, she stepped to her dressing table and stared at herself in the mirror. She was finally getting some of her body fat back, she mused, as the frame that stared back at her was no longer nothing but bone and whipcord. She still had miles to go before possessing curves like Nerussa however. As if that would ever happen!

Even if she had those curves however, they would be little comfort, given the lines of scars across her left shoulder. The troll had bit deep there, and Marz said she would carry its marks for the rest of her life. The same was true of the scar that marred her right breast, mute testimony to the city guard arrow that had nearly taken her life.

Teresa sighed. What would any woman ever see in her again?

A small, square bag of green velvet hung from one of the posts of her mirror by a silken cord. Lifting it by a finger, she dropped the bag around her neck, so the soft material lay over her heart. She instantly felt better, as if the bear fur contained within was a healing charm, rather than simple animal hair.

Next came her armor. As Tadrose had told her the first time she had donned it, with a little practice it went on quickly. It helped that most of the pieces could be kept together, and it only needed to be laced open or shut in a few places when taking it off or putting it on. Finally she took Ravenfeeder and its chitin gorytos and belted them around her waist. A glance down showed that the first pocket of its quiver held arrows with heavy swallowtail-shaped heads, while the second contained those with narrow pincushions.

Hopefully she would not need the weapon, and the trip into the forest would be uneventful. Just thinking about the trees brought the memory of the trolls to her mind. For the thousandth time, she could see them bursting from the undergrowth and racing down the road at her. All yellow-green fur, hooked claws, and fury. She remembered the stink of their breath and the rough bristles of their fur, pressing down upon her…

With an effort of will, she forced her thoughts away from the monsters, and instead regarded the unstrung recurve bow at her hip. Her thumb traced the horn along its inner side. A minotaur's horn, she knew. A monster little different from the trolls that had killed Marius. More intelligent for certain, being smart enough to use simple weapons. But perhaps that only made them more dangerous?

Did using Ravenfeeder make her a monster as well, like that minotaur? Did it not make her a killer, a force of destruction? Was that all there was to the trolls and minotaurs? Or did they go home to their mates and pups at the end of a hard day of killing people? The latter thought was so ridiculous that it almost did make Teresa smile faintly. Only almost however, as the memory of who those tolls had killed was never far from her mind.

The sound of footsteps in the hall outside pulled Teresa from her reverie. It was time for breakfast, she thought. Then she would go to the forest. Would she be ready for it?

Leaving her room, she made her way down the stairs with Storm-Tail in tow. A minute later she was seated in the dining room. As usual, Tadrose magically appeared beside her, resplendent in her golden armor of elven steel. Pappy himself entered a moment later. Rather than his normal panoply of legion plate and orcish scale, he was clad in leather armor and carried a small, round shield. The Nordic arming sword at his hip - with its bone grip and elaborately lobed pommel - was the same as ever though.

"So you two are going picking flowers eh?" Vincent said with a wink to Pappy and Teresa. "How romantic."

That brought laughter from Chance and Tavian and even smiles as faint as any of Teresa's own from Storm-Tail and Valerius. Ancondil remained composed, as ever, and Tadrose merely rolled her eyes as she munched on her olive-oil soaked bread. Teresa found herself doing the same as she took a swallow of milk.

"Sounds like someone's jealous," Pappy grinned. "What do you think Teresa? Maybe Vincent would like a little more sausage in his life?"

That brought guffaws from most of the others, including Vincent. The Breton made a show of clutching his heart and batting his eyelashes at the guild commander. He only stopped when the older man threw a handful of bread into his face. Evidently not one to let good food go to waste, Vincent popped the still-warm bread into his mouth and began to chew.

"The Lady Scaurus is giving a ball in the honor of the Emperor's birthday tonight," Valerius ventured in the silence that grew after the laughter died down. "Shall anyone else be attending?"

"I am looking forward to the engagement," Ancondil said. "I have found the lady to be most agreeable."

Teresa took a swallow of goat's milk and stared down at her bread. The Great Lady of Bravil had not invited her. Teresa expected no less. The wood elf knew that she was not a patrician like Valerius, or even of the equite class such as Pappy or Ancondil. She was just a landless mercenary, a prole from the streets. A high-born lady like Metella Scaurus could not mix with one so far beneath her station as Teresa was. The tournament had been an exception, because she had made the finals. The wood elf imagined it would have been embarrassing for the lady if not a single archer from the competition had been there for her ball in its honor!

"So will you return in time for the ball tonight Gaius?" Tadrose asked from beside Teresa.

"Not if I can help it," Pappy murmured. "Those things are stiffer than a legate's backbone. You can represent the guild in my place, if you want."

"I have work to do in the forge," Tadrose said quickly.

"The Courier says that Sulesa's fighting Morghak today, in honor of the Emperor's Birthday," Chance said around a mouthful of bread. "I bet the Arena's going to be sold out."

"Aye, that'd be a fight to see," Vincent agreed. "Too bad we're stuck down here."

"You kids aren't missing a thing," Pappy insisted. "There's plenty of action here in Bravil."

"Aye, and it usually has dark hair and wears skirts!" Chance grinned.

Breakfast ended shortly after, and they all broke up and filed into the main hallway that bisected the ground floor. Teresa and Pappy made their way along it the front of the guild hall and Silver Avenue outside. The others trailed out in the opposite direction, to the practice yard behind the building.

The city was slowly coming alive as the two fighters walked along its main street to the North Gate. There Teresa noted more city guardsmen than normal, and likewise at the end of the bridge that spanned the Larsius. Even though Magnus barely sat atop the horizon, she saw riders trotting from Bay Roan Stables to the parade grounds across the Green Road. She and Pappy waited as the equestrians passed by, and Teresa watched her step when they resumed their trek. She had no desire to start out her day by stepping in road apples. Journeying into the forest would be bad enough as it was.

Teresa found one hand drifting to her chest, to where the bag of bear fur lay tucked beneath her armor. Give me your strength Bear, she prayed. Help me face this.

Soon the broken spires of Anutwyll rose from the hills to their right. The stones of the road in front of their feet were blackened, as if scorched by some great fire. Teresa's breath hitched in her chest as she stared down at the dark marks. This was where she had been first attacked, where she had summoned the salamander to fight the trolls. Her eyes instantly darted from the road to the trees ahead. Was something moving in the branches? Had she heard a twig snap?

Her fingers curled into a fist, and the symbol for her Burning Hand instantly leaped into the forefront of her mind. She licked her dry lips, and took a step back. Her heart was a hammer in her chest, and she could feel beads of sweat forming on her brow. Were there more trolls? Would they come again? Who would die this time?

Ravenfeeder jumped into her hand - and without sparing another glance at the ominous wall of greenery - Teresa set her spidersilk to the curved stave. Drawing a heavy swallowtail from her gorytos, she fixed it to the right side of the handgrip, just as Daenlin and coached her. Lifting her eyes to the forest once more, she scanned the trees for any sign of danger.

Teresa almost jumped when the cawing of a raven broke the silence. Looking up, she found the majestic black bird flying in a circle above her. Then he darted down, directly toward her. Teresa stood perfectly still as his wings furiously beat the air just inches from her face. A moment later his taloned feet settled upon her armored shoulder, and his wings went silent.

Teresa looked at the blackbird perched upon her shoulder. He stared back at her from down his long, heavy beak. In her mind, she could almost hear him squawk: "Well, what are you waiting for, Saturalia?" Then the bird leapt skyward once more, and vanished into the trees to the west.

Teresa noticed that Pappy was staring her. One of his eyebrows was cocked - in either curiosity or disbelief - Teresa cold not tell. The guild commander said nothing however, and simply waited until Teresa tucked her bow and arrow back into her gorytos and started forward once more. His small, round shield was still slung over his shoulder, and his hand was nowhere near the hilt of his sword. He was plainly not worried about any danger as he walked beside the wood elf.

That is as accurate a representation of PTSD as any I've read. I liked how the raven assured Teresa all is fine now through his behavior, as well as Pappy's relaxed demeanor. Whether or not Teresa even realizes what they are telling her is another matter. We'll have to see . . .

I caught a typo: Looks like the 'l' shied away from Teresa's reaction to the imaginary trolls!

This episode has a lovely natural flow to it. We are not rushed at all, yet you cover plenty of ground as Teresa shares her morning and journey back to where she first encountered the trolls.

’She still had miles to go before possessing curves like Nerussa however. As if that would ever happen!’
Here we see another between the eyes look at Teresa’s insecurity about her ability to be desirable. Oh, and I see you are using the distance convention of miles here. So do I in BF.

’For the thousandth time, she could see them bursting from the undergrowth and racing down the road at her. All yellow-green fur, hooked claws, and fury. She remembered the stink of their breath and the rough bristles of their fur, pressing down upon her…’
This is really well done for how fully and vividly it presents that memory. The beasts’ actions along with how they looked, smelled and felt – all within the space of a very brief paragraph.

’In her mind, she could almost hear him squawk: "Well, what are you waiting for, Saturalia?" Then the bird leapt skyward once more, and vanished into the trees to the west.’
I loved this!

Nits?

’The Breton made a show of clutching his heart and batting his eyebrows at the guild commander.’
I’m not sure at all that there is a nit here. If he was indeed rapidly lifting and lowering his eyebrows, I’m not so sure ‘batting’ conveys that? City Swimmer and Luciana Galena taught Buffy to bat her eyelashes, not eyebrows. But, as you know, Buffy is certainly no expert in such matters and perhaps men do it differently?

’Breakfast ended shortly after, and they all broke up to filed into the main hallway that bisected the ground floor.’
I think we have a casualty of mixed edits here. I expect at one time you were debating between ‘and filed into’ vs ‘to file into’.

I wanted to wait until I was caught up (I fall behind too much ) but from 37.4

But Teresa was more an Imperial than an elf in any case, Tadrose told herself silently. She would not be interested in other women.



But!

She.....



I'll need to drink some coffee and finish this up before bed. I can't not read to see how this turns out!

It was nice to see Teresa musing that her figure is returning to normal instead of dwelling on her scars. I did wonder if she had healed them away, or if she still has them and just isn’t noticing any more. This and her thousandth thought about the trolls showed a little time passing. I like that she made a bag for her tuft of Bear fur. Silken cord and velvet for materials were interesting choices, and a reminder that she would not choose animal materials.

Pappy in leather armor was a good cue that he isn’t expecting more trolls.

Ravenfeeder jumped into her hand - and without sparing another glance at the ominous wall of greenery - Teresa set her spidersilk to the curved stave.

It made me sad for her when Teresa thought of the forest as an “ominous wall of greenery.” It was nice to see a raven approving of the excursion, but I’m guessing that Pappy’s calm was even more reassuring. Into the woods we go… hopefully.

haute ecole rider: Shied away indeed! We shall see this next episode.


Acadian: The Saturalia line was inspired by Duke Nukem 3D. He would say all sorts of things for the idle animations. One of them was "What are waiting for, Christmas?" Nits all fixed (finally) too.


Jacki Dice: Isn't it wonderful when people jump to all the wrong conclusions for all the right reasons?


Grits: Ooops! I was so busy focusing on the other things, that I forgot about the scars. I am so glad you mentioned them. I went back and put in a few small paragraphs about them too.


Previously on Teresa of the Faint Smile: In our last episode Teresa and Pappy made their way to the edge of the forest. Next, into the ominous wall of greenery they go!


Chapter 39.3 – Picking Flowers


They followed the Green Road west until it turned south and crossed the Larsius over the graceful arch of a stone bridge. Teresa saw the fences and homes of Silverbridge beyond, already bustling with activity as the farmers saw to their livestock, or lifted fishing poles over the river. She wondered if Decimus was at his usual spot farther upstream, with little Poppea and Quintis in tow?

Then Pappy led them off the road, and plunged into the forest along the northern edge of the river. Teresa watched her footing in the underbrush as she followed the Colovian between the cottonwoods with their deeply-scored bark, drooping willows, and tall sycamores. The sound of the rushing water was in her ears, and the crisp air filled her nostrils with its clear scent. After so many days in the city, Teresa had almost forgotten the simple joy of breathing fresh country air, slightly damp from the river, and pregnant with the rich scent of moist loam and grass.

"We need to go farther north," Teresa said to Pappy's back. "The soil's too wet here for lavender. There's a clearing about a mile up where it likes to grow."

The guild commander stopped. "Lead the way," he said, motioning forward with one hand.

Without a second thought, Teresa did exactly that. Stepping lightly up the sloping ground, she soon found the willows, cottonwoods, and sycamores giving way to gnarled oaks and graceful maples. The soil was becoming drier under their feet, she noted, and the air with it. She paused to pick blackberries from a bush along the game trail which they trod upon. After offering a handful to Pappy, she snacked on a few herself. She tucked the rest away into her Thieves Bag, and imagined that Tadrose might like some.

Then she was back in motion. Rather than continuing along the narrow trail, she led Pappy directly into the trees. As always, their branches seemed to almost move out of her way as Teresa stepped between them, and the leaves that dotted the ground did not make a sound under her miran-talurn boots. Pappy on the other hand, seemed to make more noise than a bull in a porcelain shop. If he was not crunching a fallen leaf underfoot, he was cursing the underbrush, or slapping at an insect.

And he was one of the more woods-wise members of the guild too, Teresa ruminated. She wondered if it was only her wood elf ears that made him seem so loud? Or would another human think the same? On the other hand, she could only imagine Ancondil in the forest! By his own admission, the elegant Orisimer would likely walk into more trees than around them.

It was the smell that led her to the lavender, strong and sweet. Following its siren call, the wood elf found a clearing dotted with the tall, violet flowers and knee-high nut sedge. She knelt down at the first clump of the former, and drew forth a small pouch from her Thieves Bag. Picking away at the flowers, she deposited the bright petals into the smaller bag.

"Watch for bears," she said to Pappy as she worked. "They like to eat the sedge."

"It's not bears I'm worried about," Pappy's voice came from behind her. "Make enough noise and you'll never see one."

Teresa nodded. That was the only dangerous thing about being as quiet as she was in the forest. Sneaking up a large predator was rarely a good idea. Especially if you did not realize it was there until you stumbled upon it. Yet she had never known a wolf or bear that meant her harm. Only Barenziah had ever posed a real threat, when she had been so blinded by the pain of her troll-incurred wounds that she could not tell friend from foe.

Teresa wondered where the unfortunate mother grizzly was now? She had last seen her during the tournament, when she had led Lady Scaurus and her friends on their bear-viewing expedition. Are you still out here Barenziah? Or had the trolls finally gotten to you?

Her final thought was punctuated by the sharp intake of Pappy's breath. "Get down," the Colovian hissed. With much quieter footsteps then before, she heard him retreat to the wall of trees behind them. "Due north."

Teresa instantly went down on her belly in the sedge. She took a moment to draw the hood of her armor over her head, covering up her bright red hair. Then rising on all fours, she parted the stalks of grass before her and stared north from between them.

Sure enough, at the edge of the trees across the clearing was a hulking, yellow-green form. It was hunched over on all fours, and its limbs looked too large for the rest of its muscular body. It sniffed along the grass, and slowly made its way along the treeline. A troll!

Teresa's heart leapt into her throat as she stared at the monster. It was just like the one that had attacked her. The same one that had nearly bit her arm off. Even now, she could smell the fetid stink of its breath in her nostrils, and feel its rough fur under her fingers. Her shoulder ached with the memory of its fangs, and she wondered if it could see her from across the clearing with its three eyes?

"Teresa, get behind me," Pappy's voice was a barely audible whisper. Glancing back, the wood elf found the Colovian standing behind a maple at the edge of the clearing, his face barely visible from around its trunk. Lowering her head, Teresa crawled back through the lavender and sedge to the safety of the trees. Rising to a crouch behind her guild commander, she now saw that his shield was in his left hand, and his Nordic sword in the other.

He edged around the tree, so that it completely hid him from the troll's view. He even held his sword straight up, so that its blade would not protrude from the side of the trunk and give his presence away. He stared back at Teresa.

"Use your bow," he whispered. "I'll finish it if it gets close."

Now Teresa understood his plan. If it charged her, it would have to pass directly by him. That would give him a strike from ambush. Would the Colovian be able to kill it with one blow? Teresa knew how experienced a fighter he was from their training sessions. It seemed there was no weapon he was not an expert in, and no foe he had not beaten on the battlefield. If anyone could fell such a beast, it was Pappy.

But could she do it? Teresa stared down at her hand, and realized that it trembled. What if she failed? What if Pappy was not as skilled as she thought? What if it killed him, like Marius? What if it killed her?

She bit her lip, and willed her fingers to be still. "No matter how far you run, you cannot escape from yourself," the voice of another Colovian rang in her ears. "Time to dig in your heels."

Was it the troll she was afraid of, or her own fears?

With an effort of will, Teresa drew Ravenfeeder from her gorytos and set a wide-bladed swallowtail to its stave. Out of habit she glanced down to her waist, where her jar of nightshade usually rested. But she no longer needed the poison, as Ravenfeeder would envenom every arrow she set upon it. She rose to her feet and drew back the white and black dyed feathers of the arrow with her thumb and forefinger, until they rested under her chin.

She sighted in on the troll, raising her bow to compensate for the range. She breathed in deeply, and let out half of her breath. The words of Daenlin whispered gently in her ear: "Feel those strands that bind us, and you will not need eyes to shoot. Simply allow your arrow to sing along that thread." She could not feel the threads. She could not feel anything but the wild beating of her heart, and the pounding of blood in her ears.

Her hand shook upon the bowstave. Biting her lip, she forced it still again with every ounce of her will. Stop thinking so much! she screamed in silence. Just shoot!

The twang of the bowstring was like thunder in her ears. Her arrow sprang loose, seemingly of its own accord. The wood elf held her breath as it spun across the clearing. Then it drove into the side of the monster, throwing it to one knee in grass. The ululation that issued from the beast chilled Teresa's blood. Half moan, half howl, it was a sound that seemed no more a part of Nirn than the war cries of the Daedra that had attacked her in Jensine's shop.

The troll clawed its way to its feet, and Teresa felt her own eyes widen in horror as its gaze locked upon her. Then it was charging on all fours, moving awkwardly with the arrow protruding from its flank. As before, its jaws filled her vision, and those beady black eyes gleamed like the depths of Oblivion itself.

Another arrow found its way into her fingers, and without thinking, Teresa set it to the string of her bow, drew it, and fired. The troll's body snapped back as the missile buried itself in the center of its chest. It fell on its back in the center of the clearing, arms and legs splayed out in the lavender and sedge. Teresa stared at the beast as she nocked a third arrow. Yet it did not move, not even in the slightest.

"Clear," she finally said in a low voice.

Her eyes darted to those of Pappy, who gave her a victorious thumbs up. The Colovian finally stepped from cover, and strode tall and unafraid across the clearing to where the troll lay sprawled. Teresa followed more warily, eyes moving to the forest beyond. Yet there was no sign of anything out of place, no trace of more of the monster's kind.

When she reached the troll, she found that a raven had beaten them there. The sleek, black bird perched upon its chest, and stared back at Teresa. Somehow, the forester knew that it was the same one that had landed upon her shoulder on the road. Teresa felt a wave of relief rush though her. Raven was with her, she thought. The forest was with her. This was her home. It was the trolls that were interlopers, and only they had reason to feel fear.

YAAAY! It felt soo good to see Teresa fall into those hard-earned habits of shooting without thinking. She is more Valenwood than she realizes.

The beginning of the segment, where Teresa thinks about how much noise Pappy is making, made me think of the list of safety rules I encountered when I entered Olympic National Park. This is bear country. Make as much noise as possible. . . .

Amen, sister! Sneaking is usually the first skill I master when I play this game, and so many times I've tripped over a bear or a cat in the dark! Or when it's pouring rain and I can't see my hand in front of my face!

One nit: I think that apostrophe was too scared to duck out of the way!

It was this realization that made me stand up and cheer! QFT!

OK, bow tested - kills trolls in two shots - even if she did start thinking enough to almost make her miss. Armor tested for quiet motion, but not yet for defense. Hmm.

When hunting dangerous creatures you need to be aware of them before they're aware of you. I was a bit shocked to have Pappy detect the troll first, I thought Teresa would have the better sensors to go with her better silence, but then it dawned on me that his noise was deliberate. He could probably move just as silently if he wanted.

Of course, in the game, every creature attacks as soon as it detects you, so real-life logic does not apply. It's good to have that corrected.

Whew! Teresa was not the only one holding her breath.

The ululation that issued from the beast chilled Teresa's blood. Half moan, half howl, it was a sound that seemed no more a part of Nirn than the war cries of the Daedra that had attacked her in Jensine's shop.

and

Raven was with her, she thought. The forest was with her. This was her home. It was the trolls that were interlopers, and only they had reason to feel fear.

answer the questions I had about why trolls were unnatural, why only they would attack Teresa, and why Teresa would happily kill a troll and not some other predator.

What a relief! Teresa is armed, armored, and back in the forest! Now, about that Dunmer armorer…

Teresa, with a little help from Raven and Pappy, has relearned that courage is action in the presence of fear. And the hunters shall become the hunted by a rightful mistress of the forest.

Okay, this was wonderful. I loved all the little touches you wove into the first part, ranging from Silverbridge and its residents to referencing the tourney.

The build up to the encounter with the troll was nail bitingly suspenseful. Then the actual fight was quick and powerful – as it should be. Well done!

’and pregnant with the rich scent of moist loam and grass.’
If you’re like me, when writing something like this, it is so hard not to use the word ‘earth’ when describing the soil. ‘Nirn’ just doesn’t translate well to dirt though.

39.2 –

It behooves me to inform our young wood elf that there are some women who prefer scars! (However, since you have placed me on the down low, I guess I wouldn’t know of such things )

I am wondering if Tadrose noticed that Ancondil made no mention of Teresa accompanying him to the ball? Perhaps that will give her some clue as to the nature of their relationship. And it was nice to see raven show up to provide some reassurance when Teresa hesitated. Just as she could almost hear his gentle prodding, I could almost hear a small section of her mind saying: Where were you when I needed you?! Granted you are too small to be much more than a nuisance to a troll, but a small bit of eyeball pecking would have been appreciated!

39.3

Ravenfeeder is well named! And the time with Daenlin proved fortuitous. I shudder to think what might have occurred inside Teresa had the arrows pulled to the left or right. Pappy’s presence notwithstanding, Teresa’s confidence may have taken an insurmountable hit.

For a brief moment there I thought I was reading a chapter of hautee’s story. I would expect to see an ‘ululation’ venture forth from her keyboard. To see one in Teresa’s tale was as welcome as it was appropriate!

‘and pregnant with the rich scent of moist loam and grass.’
Um, we are still talking about the forest here, right?

haute ecole rider: I see we know the same bear safety rules. Along with hanging your food in a tree where it is out of reach.


ghastley: Teresa does have better sensors. But she was busy picking her ingredients, while Pappy's job is to stand look out. So he saw it first.


Grits: There is more this coming episode on the nature of trolls, as well as apes and orcs. That Dunmer armorer will be tackled in the episode next Monday!


Acadian: One thing writing in ES has taught me, is to always name my fantasy worlds "Earth"! I hate not being able to use terms like unearthly, earthenware, earthworks, down-to-earth, etc...


Destri Melarg: I am not sure if people would be able to bring others with to formal balls. It is one of those things I have tried to look up about Regency England, and have gotten nowhere on. My impression was that the head of the household (like Mr. Bennett) would be invited, and they could bring their family members. In any case though, Teresa would not have been able to attend because of her social class. The Lady's balls are formal affairs, so only for the gentry, be they wealthy commoners or actual aristocrats. Teresa got invited the last time only because she was one of the finalists in the tournament.

It is funny you mentioned that ululation. I was hunting for the right word there, and had to go through a lot of other terms before I settled on it.


Previously on Teresa of the Faint Smile: In our last episode, Teresa encountered a troll and killed with her new bow. Next, she and Pappy take a look at the corpse.


Chapter 39.4 – Picking Flowers

"That was good shooting kid. These fetchers can't regenerate with an arrow in the hearts." Poking the dead troll with the tip of his blade, Pappy nodded with approval. The raven took flight with an angry caw, and circled the Colovian for a moment before vanishing in the trees. Teresa noted that it left a single feather behind it, laying on the chest of the dead troll.

Then the guild commander's face turned more serious. "It's like I thought though. This is a West Weald troll."

"How can you tell, old man?" Teresa asked.

"The colorings," Pappy explained. "You can find trolls all over Tamriel, except in Valenwood of course. Damn buggers are almost as adaptable as us humans. They all look different though. The ones in Skyrim are almost blue. In Hammerfell they're brown, and their hair is so short and fine you'd think they didn't have any from a distance. They're yellow as desert sand in Elsweyr, and black as pitch in Argonia and down by Leyawiin."

"So how come they aren't in Valenwood?" Teresa leaned down and picked up the raven's feather. It would go nicely with the bear fur in her heart bag, she thought. If she could only find a way to fit it inside.

"The great apes killed them all, ages ago, and they keep any other ones from moving in," Pappy said. "They have a legend that the trolls were a curse upon them sent by Lorkhan. Bunch of Altmer bollocks if you ask me. But don't try telling them that."

"They like the Altmer?" Teresa tucked the feather away into one of the pouches built into the hip plates of her armor.

"Like them?" Pappy snorted. "The apes practically worship them. They even speak Altmer, and use Altmer names. That has its good points though. They are damn civilized folks, those apes. Brew some excellent brandy too. Surilie Brothers tastes like pond scum after you've had the ape drops."

"It looks diseased." Teresa knelt down beside the dead troll and tugged at the arrows she had fired into it. They did not budge, and she was forced to draw forth a knife and cut out the flesh around the 'V' shaped head of her first missile. "The fur is all dry and coarse, like the bristles on a broom. On a healthy animal it ought to be softer, and have a luster to it."

"Yeah, they are all that way," Pappy said. "You can find mottled patches on their skin under it too, like rashes, and sometimes even boils."

"But if they regenerate, how can they be sick?" Teresa asked as she yanked out her first arrow and inspected the shaft. As she feared, it was warped. Snapping off the head, she wiped it clean on the troll's fur and put it in one of her pouches. There was no sense in letting one of Tadrose's points go to waste after all.

"Damn if I know," Pappy said. "You know what it reminds me of? Corprus. I saw plenty of it when I was with the Tenth over in Vvardenfell. It killed most people straight out. But some of them it… changed instead. It turned them into Ashwalkers. You could see the disease was eating them up, but at the same time its magic made them stronger, and stranger, than anything natural. Maybe the apes are right, maybe these trolls are a curse."

"They look like apes," Teresa pointed out as she went to work on freeing her second arrow. "At least from the drawings I've seen."

"Aye," Pappy agreed. "Take away that third eye in the middle of their foreheads, and give them regular hands and feet, and you'd have a great ape alright. That's why a lot of people think they might have been apes once, and they got corrupted. Like people say orcs were once elves, but got changed with Malacath."

Teresa regarded the monster next to her. She had heard more than one person say that bears and wolves were ravening beasts, that would attack anyone on sight. But her time in the forest had shown her the truth. Neither would have ever attacked anyone like the trolls had on the road. Unless you frightened or surprised them, natural predators steered well clear of people.

It was the trolls that were the ravening monsters, Teresa thought. They would indeed attack anyone they saw, regardless of the circumstances. Was that because they saw people as competition? Or were people simply food? Or was it something deeper? Was it just simple hate for other living things?

"People used to say that orcs were all evil, just mindless monsters," Teresa said. "Because the Daedra twisted them. But they aren't."

"Well, between you and me, I think that story's just a load of imp chips," Pappy said. "I think orcs were always the way they are now. I've seen what Daedric power does to things in Morrowind. It corrupts them, like the Ashwalkers, or Dagoth Ur. There's not a damn thing warped or twisted about an orc."

Teresa nodded. Ancondil was all the proof of that she would ever need of that, let alone the gro-Baroth brothers. Orcs were beautiful and powerful, like the bears that roamed the forest. They were also a healthy shade of green, just like the grass and the leaves of the trees.

"These trolls, they're all wrong though." Pappy stared down at the dead troll, and kicked it with one boot. "Natural animals don't have magical powers, and they don't just attack people for no reason. Something made them the way they are now. A Daedra Lord, or just some crazy magician, I dunno. It's the same way with will-o-wisps, imps, minotaurs, and some say goblins and ogres. Something changed them into what they are now. Made them just plain vicious."

"What worries me most right now though is that it shouldn't be here," Pappy continued. "This has never been troll country. They're all to the west, in the West Weald. This is bear and wolf country."

"So how did it get here?" Teresa asked. "Is something driving them out of the Weald?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Pappy said. "There have been more attacks up north of here too, in the villages along the Green Road. In fact, the farther north you go, the worse they get. We're just catching the edge of it down here, and so far they've not been seen south of the Larsius at all."

"So how do we stop them?" Teresa finished with her second arrow, and was pleased to see that its shaft remained straight and true. She wiped its head clean and set it aside. Then she regarded her fingers, now dripping with blood.

"We don't stop them," Pappy grumbled with a sour face. "Now that the Count's back, I made him an offer to hire the guild to clear them out. We could even bring in people from Skingrad and Leyawiin to help. They have experience with trolls. But that cheap prick won't part with one red septim. Won't even put a bounty on trolls. Although with all the idiots that would bring out it's just as well. They'd probably kill more people by accident than the trolls can on purpose."

Teresa imagined the woods filled with greedy bounty hunters and shuddered. How many bears like Barenziah, or wolves like Tsume, would they kill while they were at it? Not to mention the other animals unfortunate enough to make a sound when they were nearby?

"So the Count's just going to ignore it?" Teresa fumed. "I saw he put some more men at the front gate. Is that it then?"

"Lerus did that while he was still gone," Pappy said. "But he hasn't rescinded the move. He likes to go riding on the parade grounds. He did send some guardsmen up north though. Not enough to drive out the trolls, but they might keep them away from the villages. If you notice fewer guards in the city, that's why. I've got half a mind to go up there and see if we can drum up some business from the farmers themselves. If they pool together, they might be able to come up with enough money for me to justify it."

After wiping most of the blood from her fingers in the grass, Teresa raised one hand skyward. She focused on her Bloom spell, and channeled her magicka through that symbol. She released the energy gathered in her fist a moment later, and felt it wash down over her like a cleansing tide. Afterward she found her hands free of stains.

Next she rummaged through her Thieves Bag, and drew forth a bottle of her home-brewed body wash of vanilla and pomegranate and rubbed it through her fingers. Taking a few lavender petals, she crushed the flowers in her hands as well, adding their sweet scent to her skin.

"Women," Pappy shook his head.

"I don't want to smell like blood," Teresa countered. "That might give a bear the wrong idea."

Wonderful little natural history lesson here! And it's Pappy giving it! Yay for him. It's high time we learned that he did more than find the best local brew and chase skirts everywhere he went. Though of course he had to mention that ape drops beat Surilie Brothers hands down every time! Did you hear that Acadian? Would Buffy be heading west of Bravil to see if that's true? Makes me wish there was a good mod for Valenwood like there is one for Elseweyr and Hammerfell.

I have to agree with Teresa's assessment - those trolls look like leprosy on wheels. Ugh. Interesting division of "natural" vs. "unnatural" creatures. To me, they're all natural. I've seen too much of what is natural here in this earth to write 'em off as unnatural. I understand the use of magic as a criteria to differentiate between what is magical/monstrous and what isn't. But it's like using language or brain size or IQ points to differentiate between what is human and what isn't. Just not enough is known about any of these criteria to be able to make such clean boundaries.

Regardless of my own personal thinking about all creatures Nirn, I really enjoyed the mini-lecture from Pappy. Well thought out and well argued, just as I would expect from him.

Only one nit: The troll was so vicious he scared off the proper word! Viscous actually refers to the thick quality of certain liquids, such as syrup or even congealed blood. And I have a hard time putting trolls and honey together in the same breath!

That typo reminded me of Ye Olden Days of Dungeons and Dragons with the Gray Ooze and Green Slime, which were both viscous and vicious at the same time.

I get the impression that Pappy's opinion of any drink depends entirely on its alcohol content, so the comparison with Surilie Brothers brandy is suspect. He needs to try the Peppermint Schnapps!