10a

The entire description of the armies arrayed against each other should have been a cut-scene in the game. I mean, we are talking about the Empire here! Why wouldn’t they call back some of the Legions? Holding Morrowind or other frontier conquests is kind of meaningless if Marooned Dragon eats Cyrodiil. Even if we cannot play Oblivion as we do Rome: Total War, it would be nice to see a nod to the level of effort put forth to preserve the Empire- or are we to believe that the player character is the only asset available?

10b

Loved the banter and the tactical discussion, as well. Still, I think the windy prelate would have done better with a more inspiring speech or perhaps a simple motto-

Cf: “They can tak oor lives, but they canna tak oor troosers!" Terry Pratchett

10c

Good tactics- the Imperial army has to make use of their greater organization and mobility.

Ahh, Pappy- sometimes even the best make mistakes. That was a costly one, I fear.

10d

Julian- and old habits!



Over the Hills and Far Away- excuse me, a bit of chaff must have blown into my eyes. I’ll be just a minute….

10e



Ah yes, just as the Union troops shouted, “Fredericksburg, Fredericksburg” after rebuffing Pickett’s Charge.

10f

Knowing how many of these people will not make it back is a terrible burden…. But it is a part of the story that we must remember. For every Hero of Kvatch, there are a dozen or more Menien Gonelds…

10g

An excellent fight- better than the FG could have hoped for- short and sharp.

10h

"Because there are two kinds of people in this world son," the grey-haired Imperial explained, "those who have bows, and those who dig."

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly FTW!

The deaths of Njall and Aissa certainly fit with what I have experienced in the few FG quests where you have “help.” They either run ahead and get overwhelmed or get in the way and block your shot/spell/swing (grumble- grumble).

10i

Teresa Raven-Wing saves Pappy’s [British Boat] is the auto-censor term, I believe.



Yup, it’s about leverage.

10j

Started to make some (half) witty remark, but realized how out of place it would be. The conclusion was magnificent and tragic. And the wonderful cinematic way it spirals down from the vast field of the dead and injured to one woman mourning over the body of one man…. Kurosawa could not have done it better.


Testosterone- pffft. I am too old a doggie to look forward to battles. They are frequently necessary, but never pleasurable. Which does not mean that your descriptions failed to stir my blood or cause me to elevate my dachshund snout to the sky to catch the scent of cordite.

Kurosawa could not have done it better.

So you're a fan too!!!!

Me strongly agrees....

hazmick: Thank you haz. You never know what might be in Teresa's future. She does seem to have a thing for innkeepers though, especially the Altmer ones...


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. I was thinking of Buffy and Parwen when I wrote this. You were quite right about 'its' pace as well.


haute ecole rider: Thank you haute. Teresa is attracted to Methredhel. Then again, she is attracted to all well, attractive women. So she is not really being left out, just seeing something she likes.


Olen: Thank you Olen. Spot on with the numbering of the chapter. I always copy and paste from the previous heading to save time, sometimes I forget to edit the increment.


D.Foxy: Teresa is not really in love with Methredhel. She is just attracted to women, and Methredhel is a woman, a moderately good-looking one at that, and was naked and soaking wet at Teresa's feet. I see many people had the same impression you did though, so I went back to reword things a bit to try to make it seem more like ordinary lust.


Kazaera: Thank you Kaz. I focus on characterization over plot, so to me why characters do things is extremely important. I also learned a long time ago while playing pen and paper RPGs that the more personally involved the characters are in what is going on, the larger impact it has.


treydog: Yay, someone recognized the "Fredericksburg!" nod. That is exactly what I was thinking of when I wrote the "Kvatch!" warcry of the Imperials. I was tempted to show a knight dragging a dremora standard behind his horse at the end as well, but there was just too much going on that I did not want to clutter it up with over-descriptions.

Nice to see someone else who knows Over the Hills and Far Away as well. I was doing one of my annual watchings of the Sharpes Rifles series, which has burned that song into my head with the amazing vocals of John Tams (whom the character Hirtuleus is based upon).

I am also a big Kurosawa fan, so thank you for the comparison. The Seven Samurai is one of my favorite movies. There is even an anime series based off it called Samurai Seven that is quite good as well.


Next: We turn back the clock ten years, and meet an eight year old Teresa.

* * *

Chapter 15.3 - Old Friends, Not Forgotten

Teresa slumped against the faded and peeling white-wash of an insula wall. The chipped stone was hard against her back, as were the cobbles underneath her, but at least it was out of the blazing Last Seed sun. Wiping the sweat from her pale brow, she drew back the long, tangled brown hair from her face and looked out into the street.

Mortals of all varieties bustled along the avenue. Patricians in their fine garb, artisans and shopkeepers in clean linens, laborers in worn flax, and finally street urchins like herself in ragged sackcloth. The wealthier took great pains to not notice her, while the poorer openly stared. Probably because of my wan skin, the Bosmer child thought to herself, people always gawked at that.

Most were making their way to or from the wide entrance of the Arena at the other side of the street. Unlike the crumbling tenement that she sheltered against, it was a gleaming structure of polished white marble and limestone that rose in three tiers. Each was as tall as a three-story insula, and was lined with archways that created an arcade encircling the amphitheater. Framing the archways were half columns and golden statues of dragons, eagles, wolves, and other predators, all rising high into the summer sky.

The main entrance was at least fifty feet wide, and faced White Gold Tower to the west. Over it towered the largest statue of all. This was of a bearded Redguard wearing archaic-looking armor and holding a longsword in both hands, point hovering over the tunnel leading into the circular building. Smaller entrances curved away to either side, ringing the entire structure like the holes in a piece of Skyrim cheese. From all of them people streamed in and out of the Arena in a never ending flow.

Casting her gaze higher, Teresa could see the canvas sheets of the retractable dome bunched up at the top of the Arena's wall, and knew that the great amphitheatre had been left open to the clear sky today. Given the shouts and cheers she could hear welling up from within, she imagined that the folk within were enjoying the sun.

For not the first time she wondered how it was that the Imperials did not seem to mind the heat. Frowning down at the reddened skin along her forearms, she wished that she had been born with their olive complexion. They hardly ever seemed to get sunburned. Yet after only a few hours under Magnus' fiery eye she was always red as a lobster.

"You!" A distinctly elven voice brought her head up to see an ashen-skinned Dunmer striding toward her. "It's you! I know it!"

Out of habit, Teresa's eyes darted from one side to the other. There were crates piled up to her right, blocking any escape. But the way to the left was open…

"You thought you could trick me did you!" The dark elf exclaimed, and Teresa bolted. She had no idea who the Dunmer was, or what he wanted, and was not about to wait around to find out. She heard feet slapping on the cobblestones behind her, and darted into the first alley that cut through the insula wall.

Hard fingers clamped down around the neck of her rough tunic, and the young Bosmer was jerked to a sudden halt. Gasping for breath as the sackcloth dug into her throat, she vainly clawed at the hand that held her in place. Yet she could not reach back far enough to reach it. Then a moment later she felt another powerful mitt grasp a handful of her hair and shove her into the stone wall of the alley.

Stars danced before her eyes as her skull bounced off the unyielding rock. When the world swam back into view, the dark form of the Dunmer loomed over her, eyes glowing like red pools of fire. But it was the silvery glint of bared steel that caught the child's gaze. The long, slender blade glittered as it hovered above her face, just inches from her pale skin. Teresa felt warm liquid spread down from her waist as she waited for it to sink into her flesh.

"You had better piss yourself you little Witch!" the Dunmer hissed like an angry serpent. "Don't think that I don't know what you're up to."

"Please sir," Teresa blurted out, trying to sound as innocent and helpless as possible. "I didn't do anything! I'm just a kid!"

"Oh, that's what you all want us to think, isn't it?" Teresa's emerald eyes were fixed upon the hard blade of the knife as it moved back and forth in front of her face. "Just a little girl is it? Only a child? You may have fooled the rest of them with your foul sorcery, but not Valen Dreth! I can see through you, all of you!"

"I don't know what-" the wood elf was cut off as the man's free hand wrapped around her throat and clamped down hard. Her eyes bulged from their sockets as she fought for air, and her hands pulled against his own. Yet he seemed made of iron, and she nothing but chaff. There was no relenting of his death grip.

"Don't try to lie to me!" the ashen-skinned man's voice was loud as thunder in Teresa's ears. "I know you cursed me! That's why every gladiator I bet on loses! It's all your fault, yours! You Witches have always had it in for me, but I know how to deal with you!"

"What's going on back there?" The low growl came from the mouth of the alley. In an instant the iron bands of the Dunmer's fingers disappeared from Teresa's throat, and the glittering steel of his blade vanished into one of his flaxen sleeves. He took a moment to smile at Teresa, and the little wood elf imagined that was how a slaughterfish looked when it bared its teeth. Then he turned to face the Imperial Legionary standing behind him.

"Oh nothing." Now the dark elf's voice was smooth and carefree, like a playful wind on a cool Spring day. His hand dipped into a pocket, and darted forth like quicksilver a moment later to toss a copper reman at Teresa. "I was just doing my part to help this poor unfortunate here, praise merciful Stendarr."

"Move along citizen." The soldier continued to glare at the Dunmer, who now stepped away. He paused a moment to glance back at Teresa, and the daggers in his eyes spoke volumes. Then he stepped lightly into the street beyond, and disappeared into the crowds.

"And you…" Now the legionary lowered his steely gaze to Teresa's shaking form, and she could swear that she could see his lip curl in disgust through the slit in his helmet. "You filthy little degenerate. Don't think I don't know what you are up to. Too young to join the prostitutes guild, so your selling yourself in the alleys. Maybe they do that in Valenwood or Morrowind, but we don't tolerate that kind of depravity here in Cyrodiil!"

"But I'm not-"

"Don't back-talk your betters you point-ear trash!" Now a gauntleted fist wrapped itself around the sack cloth of her tunic and pressed her hard against the stone wall behind her. The Imperial leaned down close enough for the wood elf to smell the garlic on his breath. "You elves are no better than animals. Can't even use a latrine like a civilized Imperial. One more word out of you, and you'll be staring at the inside of the Imperial Prison, you little harlot! Do you understand me!"

Biting her lip, Teresa nodded vigorously. Her heart raced in her chest, and she prayed to Nocturnal that the legionary would leave her alone. Perhaps her desperate plea was heard, for a moment later the soldier released her from his steely grip and straightened.

"Now don't let me catch you at it again," the Imperial rumbled in a low tone, "or I'll see you pay for your depravity you foul little elf."

With a clank of metal on metal, the soldier was gone, leaving Teresa shaking and alone in the alley. Her knees turned to water, and the next thing she knew she was on the ground and weeping. Her throat ached from the Dunmer's strangling fingers, and the stink of urine rose from her dripping legs. Curling up into a ball on the broken pavestones, she wished Simplicia were there to hold her. Somehow, the old woman always knew how to make things better. Yet the old woman was all the way in the Market District, and Teresa was all alone…

seeing Valen Dreth makes me wish I had joined the dark brotherhood and kick his Dunmer behind straight back to morrowind. Then we all thought a nice, kind guard would save the day but no! he's no better Poor Teresa, the arena is no place for a beggar, the market district is way more profitable

My Argonain laughs at all the warm-blooded folk, suffering in the heat of Magnus' fire. You need to find a nice rock and absorb as much heat as you can, more fuel for begging

seeing Valen Dreth makes me wish I had joined the dark brotherhood and kick his Dunmer behind straight back to morrowind. Then we all thought a nice, kind guard would save the day but no! he's no better Poor Teresa, the arena is no place for a beggar, the market district is way more profitable

My Argonain laughs at all the warm-blooded folk, suffering in the heat of Magnus' fire. You need to find a nice rock and absorb as much heat as you can, more fuel for begging

You have really highlighted the racism that is rampant in TES (but barely glossed over in IV). Because she is a Bosmer makes her a witch and a harlot, even though she is too young to be either (and we know she is neither). The legionary probably stopped that Dreth because he didn't want to deal with the paperwork a homicide always seems to attract.

It also explains more of Teresa's initial dislike for all things Legion.

I am very interested in seeing more of Teresa's childhood.

Oh my. Now I certainly see where Teresa came by her almost panicky mistrust of the Legion. To top it all off, he gave her the worst insult of all - he teased her about her ears.

Don't worry too much about peeing yourself, Teresa. You're not the only elf that sometimes does that.

I won't say this was beautiful, because it wasn't - it was painful. It most certainly was beautifully written though. You certainly made Buffy's heart ache as we read this. She insisted I send Teresa this:

I'm so pleased you are popping back into Teresa's past and adding layers of depth and history to our pale elf.

A dark little episode in her past certainly, it goes to show what made her who she was (and to an extent is) well. It also develops the world well, both in terms of the arena and the racism whouch would be huge in anywhere as mixed as the IC.

And yes, it certainly explains a general dislike of the legion, and to a extent civilisation in general.

Now when will Methy show up.

Now I know why I love the Dark Brotherhood quest line. I started the game with his taunts. He needs to "atone" for that!

(Rufio, whom you must kill to join the Dark Brotherhood, also was worth killing once you learn of his crime.)

Sanguine!

Chapter 15.2 – Old Friends, Not Forgotten

Teresa’s awkwardness around Methredhel is perfectly rendered here. I echo Foxy’s comment on this chapter. Have you mentioned the dagger that Teresa found in Vilverin previously? I can’t recall. In any event, it worked beautifully to underscore the depth of Teresa’s feeling for the friend that she finds herself outgrowing.

I think I already knew that Teresa was born during Evening Star, but telling us that Methredhel was born during the month of Second Seed the way you did was just great.

My one observation is that the Moonshadow greater power renders one invisible once a day for 60 seconds. The way you have written it makes it sound like the effect would last much longer. Was that your intention?

Chapter 15.3 – Old Friends, Not Forgotten

Rashomon is my favorite Kurosawa film. Don’t shoot me, but I actually like The Magnificent Seven more than The Seven Samurai (Steve McQueen and James Coburn FTW).

About this chapter:
Even without the italics you bring us into the flashback beautifully. The Last Seed sun tells us the time of year, and Teresa’s ‘tangled brown hair’ sets the action firmly in the past (even before her description as ‘a child’).

I am a little surprised that Teresa didn’t recognize Valen Dreth when he occupied the cell across from her way back in Chapter 2a. You would think that his voice would have been branded into her memory, given their history. I am also wondering if the bigoted legionary is a familiar face as well. It would certainly explain his attitude toward Teresa later in her life.

And now I return to my regular spamming. However, I am getting closer to being caught up. With this story. And then there are a dozen others.

11a

Teresa’s return to the City shows that many things have changed- especially her perceptions and her confidence. But one thing remains the same:



11b

An excellent contrast between Teresa, who has been out in the world and seen things changing, versus Simplicia, who has not. However, that does not mean we think less of Simplicia- her hard-won wisdom was earned at a terrible price- and she kept Teresa alive to become who she is now.

And, as with the Battle of Bruma, your vision of the triumphal entry by Martin and Julian is much more satisfying than the in-game version.

11c

Wow. Even though I suspected what was going to happen when Simplicia suggested going to Jensine's, the attack still made me jump. And I felt that Teresa’s momentary paralysis was spot-on, as well. It is one thing to be “ready” when searching an Ayleid ruin- quite another to respond to danger that appears out of nowhere while you are on “familiar” ground. But she has her bow in hand now- and someone is going to pay.

11d

The fight in the shop is even more vivid than before. And the final line is still one the all-time best in TES fan-fiction. The fact that Teresa is (relatively) calm until the scamp attacks Simplicia says a great deal about our Bosmeri forester.

11e

This whole installment sings to me, none more than this line:



Teresa’s knowledge of what has gone before puts her in an odd position- she perhaps feels just a hint of what Morcant felt….

11f

Fights do not always go the way we want them to; not all bullies are cowards; and sometimes, evil does triumph. And even when we win, the cost can be terribly high. Every line of this installment carried the realism and anguish of a life-and-death struggle. Teresa’s reverie upon seeing Jensine’s living space reminds me of Private Blythe looking at the edelweiss in Band of Brothers.

11g

How appropriate that it is Simplicia who releases the guardian bear when her cub is threatened!

And the “small” fight in the shop makes Martin’s final words so much more meaningful.

His death and the fight by the “common folk” personifies something Louis XIV actually said (rather than “I am the State”);

“I depart, but the State [Empire] shall always remain.”

11h

And Teresa’s question from 11e finds its answer- “You save the monster’s life in return.”

Just reading this chapter was a draining, wrenching experience. How you managed to survive writing it….

hazmick: Thank you hazmick. Your remark about the Argonian made me laugh out loud!


haute ecole rider: Thank you haute. One thing I have always tried to focus on with the TF was the gritty underbelly of life in the IC. I am glad the petty hatred, viciousness, and apathy is showing through. Plenty more Young Teresa Chronicles coming up!


Acadian: Thank you old paladin. I always feel so bad for little Teresa when I read through that scene, as it really puts her at her worst. Thankfully things will get better for her soon!

I did not really think about the ears, but that certainly hit one of Buffy's vulnerabilities did it not? "Round-Ear", "Point-Ear" always sounded like a reasonable form of slang to exist for humans and elves, because the ears are such an obvious point of difference.


Olen: Thank you Olen. One of the things I have always wanted to show was the Arena District houses more than just the arena, but is also the low-class neighborhood of the IC (but not as low as the Waterfront). This chapter has given me an excellent opportunity to show the Arena District in all of its shabby glory.


MyCat: Hello Kitty! I am glad Teresa's run-in with Valen Dreth struck a chord with you.


Destri Melarg: I am not sure if I ever brought out what Teresa's star sign was. I have always wanted to do so in a way that was natural, and that segment gave me the perfect opportunity to do so for both her and Methredhel.

I am extending the durations of all the spells and other magical effects in the game. With the much larger world I have, 30 second spells just do not cut it. Teresa would have needed a tanker truck full of feather potions to carry her loot from Vilverin to the IC. So I am measuring most in the forms of minutes or hours. Likewise with the once a day powers, I am not decided if those will be multiple uses instead, which is how I modded my game to do them.

Don't stone me, but my favorite version of the Magnificent Seven was actually the t.v. show in the late 90's, with Micheal Biehn and Ron Perlman

I hemmed and hawed over Teresa recognizing Dreth in the cell. But in the end I decided that I do not want to go back and change too much if I can avoid it (this chapter already has me changing something else, I do not want to overdo it). Plus, chapter 2 already has a lot going on in it already, and I really do not want to bog it down with something extra that will take the focus off her meeting the Emperor. Rest assured though, Teresa's memory will be jogged at some point.


treydog: Thank you dog. I (re)wrote most of that chapter in a single burst of inspiration, where I sat and typed for about 9 hours or so. When it was done, I was exhausted!

Next: Methredhel.


* * *

Chapter 15.4 - Old Friends, Not Forgotten

The sun had slipped past the noon-day mark by the time Teresa roused herself. Something bright caught her eye, and her gaze fell upon the glittering coin that the madman had thrown at her before leaving. She felt her stomach growl as her long, slender fingers snatched up the copper bit from the stones and made it disappear into her tunic. That would buy a piece of bread, she thought, so at least something good had come out of the horrific morning.

Sparing only a glance at the entrance to the alley, she scampered down to its far end. The legionary might still be lurking in the street outside, she knew, or the dark elf. She did not want to run into either one again. So moving quietly, eyes darting to and fro for danger, she cautiously made her way through the tenements, brothels, smithies, and tanneries of the Arena District.

Finally she came to the looming grey wall separating the district from the Palace District at the heart of the city. A moat of glittering water pooled at the base of the wall, bridged only by a brooding gatehouse. Legionaries in dark plate guarded the entryway, and Teresa quickly turned away, lest any of them notice her.

Making her way along the waist-high stone wall that edged the moat, the wood elf came to an opening in the barrier. A flight of steps led to the water below, and Teresa followed them down to a narrow landing that stretched along the outer edge of the moat. She had no idea why the Imperials built them there. Maybe so people who fell in could get out?

In any case she paused only briefly to look at the green lily pads that dotted the surface of the water. Alongside them bobbed flowers with ivory petals that radiated from sun-gold centers, like elegant little ships. Then the street urchin slipped into the long, narrow pool and let the water enfold her in its cool embrace.

Gripping the edge of the stone landing, she dunked her head under the waves. Opening her eyes, she could see the stone bottom of the moat just a few feet beneath her. Would she ever get big enough to stand up without the water being over her head? she wondered. Lifting her head above the water, she gulped for breath and pulled her hair back from her face.

"Hey kitten, are you crazy!" The voice of an adult snapped her head up. Peering over the low stone wall above was a Khajiit wearing a red linen vest. Teresa recognized him as one of the felines who worked in the Black Horse Courier, but she could not tell which one he was. "Get out of there before you catch your death. That water is filled with diseases!"

Teresa looked around. The water was clear, and cool, and did not look diseased to her eight year-old eyes. Still, she pulled herself up onto the stone landing and wrung the water out of her hair. It was never good when grown-ups took notice of you, she knew. Whenever they did, it was always best to humor them until they ignored you again. Otherwise bad things could happen.

When she looked back up the Khajiit was gone. She thought about slipping back into the water, but her stomach growled again, and made up her mind for her. Striding up the steps to the street above, she felt the hot sun bake upon her features. She would dry off in no time at all, she thought, and at least now she was clean.

Making her way to the gate between the Arena and Market Districts, the young wood elf darted behind a group of workmen leading a donkey cart loaded with crates. The legionaries standing guard at the portal did not give her a second glance as she followed the cart through the dark tunnel cut into the massive gatehouse. Emerging from the other side, Teresa scampered away and into an alley.

Moving through the mounds of garbage and empty crates, the urchin soon came to an intersection with another alley. To her left she could see it let out into the crowds on Market Way, to her right it went to a smaller cross street. But it was from ahead that the sound of racing feet came to her ears.

Without thinking, Teresa ducked into a pile of crates piled up in the alley to the right. Peering out through the worn boards, she saw a pair of Bosmer girls - no older than herself - dart into the intersection. Their eyes were wide with fright, and their breath coming in ragged gasps. Teresa knew that look all too well. They were being chased.

"Quick, over here!" Teresa hissed, rising to her feet and waving at the two girls. Their eyes locked with hers, and instantly they raced for the safety of the crates behind her. The sound of footsteps followed them into the intersection, and the young wood elf looked over to see an Imperial clad in brown pants and a quilted doublet bound into view.

"Where did they go?" The man demanded, staring at Teresa. The street urchin swallowed hard. The look of fury that creased the man's olive features sent shivers running through her. She tried to speak, but her tongue was a stone in her mouth. Pointing a finger behind her, she nodded in the same direction and hoped the Imperial got the message.

"I'll catch you!" the man shouted as he barreled down the alley past Teresa and the two hidden Bosmer. "You can't steal from the Three Brothers and get away with it!"

Teresa stared as the Imperial sped off, and waited until he was out of sight before turning back to the crates. "It's safe now," she said, "he's gone."

The other two girls crawled from the jumble of wooden boxes and stood before Teresa. Both had hair as brown as her own, but unlike her skin, theirs was a normal, fair, tone. One was a little taller than the other, and had eyes as green as Teresa's. She wore a pair of roughly stitched leather pants and a plain tunic of worn linen. The other had eyes the color of the clear sky. She was clothed in a dress of dark green flax, and fidgeted with her hair.

"Thanks," said the larger one. "You're alright."

"Yeah," the shorter one agreed. "You really saved our butts. That guy was so furious!"

"Why?" Teresa wondered, already sure of the answer.

"I stole a potion from his shop!" The larger one grinned, now producing a small vial filled with blue liquid. Teresa could see a raised spiral on the side of the glass, and wondered if that told what kind of potion it was. "But someone saw the bottle moving, so my invisibility went out. So we had to run for it!"

"Wow!" Teresa's eyes widened. "You can turn invisible?" She wondered what it would be like to do magical things like that, or simply to have the courage to do something so daring as to steal right from a shop. The only time she had ever tried something similar had ended painfully, and her tongue reflexively sought out the empty space between her back teeth at the thought.

"I was born under the sign of the Shadow." The taller one slid the potion back into a pocket. "My name is Methredhel, and I'm nine. This is Adanrel, she's eight."

"We're in a gang." the shorter one - named Adanrel - declared. "The Dandy Bandits!"

"No," the taller one - Methredhel - argued. "The Tamriel Terrors!" Then she turned back to look at Teresa, who was watching them both with a befuddled look upon her pale features. "We still haven't decided what to call it yet. So what's your name?"

"I'm Teresa," the street urchin answered, "I'm eight too." Simplicia had always warned her about staying away from gangs. Yet the two Bosmer girls did not seem anything like the bands of thugs who roamed the street and preyed upon others.

"You're hair's icky," Adanrel said suddenly, "who does it?"

Teresa felt her cheeks turn warm, and stared down at the cobblestones under her feet. She tried to say something back to the other girl, but once again her tongue was frozen in her mouth. Instead she raised a hand to the stringy mess of her hair and frowned.

"I think your hair looks fine," Methredhel filled the silence with her own voice, "but maybe Adanrel can fix it up some for you. She knows all about girly stuff like that."

"I'm gonna be a courtesan when I grow up," the other girl declared, striking a pose that Teresa imagined was supposed to be regal. "My mom's in the Prostitutes Guild, and she knows people."

Teresa did not know what to say. Again, it was Methredhel who filled the silence.

"You don't talk much do you Teresa." It was more of a statement than a question, and the young wood elf shrugged her shoulders in response. "That's ok. My dad's a mercenary archer. He says that to make a kill, you have to be completely silent and still, at one with your surroundings. He taught me how to shoot. I can teach you too."

"You can?" Teresa could not contain the words that blurted from her mouth. She gaped at the older girl. Her, use a bow, like all the wood elves from the bard's tales? It felt as impossible as her becoming the next Empress. Yet the more she pictured herself holding a bow, drawing its string back to her ear, and loosing an arrow, the more it felt… right. What would Simplicia say if she became an archer? The old woman would be so amazed!

"Yep, I can," the older girl insisted. "I've got a bow and everything. We live in the Arena District, but my dad takes me down to the Waterfront to practice."

"Wow that would be great!" Teresa breathed, her mind awhirl with the thought of using a bow.

"You'll have to join our gang first though." Methredhel said.

"Who else is in it?" Teresa wondered aloud.

"It's just us." Adanrel said proudly. "We're a special gang. We don't let just anyone in."

"Oh," Teresa said, beginning to understand just what kind of 'gang' it really was. She had to stifle the urge to crook a smile at the innocence of the other two girls. For all their talk, and even the theft, she could see that neither one of them really know what life was like on the street. Not the way she did. Still, she liked the look in Methredhel's eyes. It was honest and kind, things she did not see directed at her very often.

"Come on Teresa," Methredhel said, hooking one arm around the pale elf's waist and the other around Adanrel's. "Let's go sell this potion and get something to eat.

"I'm gonna be a courtesan when I grow up," the other girl declared, striking a pose that Teresa imagined was supposed to be regal. "My mom's in the Prostitutes Guild, and she knows people."

This was brilliant, Adanrel in my mind was...the less intelligent member of their gang?

The 'Dandy Bandits' or the 'Tamriel Terrors', the eternal question. How about 'The Waterfront Wanderers' or 'Waterfront Witches'?

I'm delighted you are going to spend some time on 'Little Teresa'. Heh, makes me think of little Archie and Veronica from the comics. You know me and I know you when it comes to character development - so of course you realize that you can linger here as long as you care to.

A beautiful story - and FUN. Their youth allows you to really inject some cuteness into the girls.

Well, there you go! One could certainly not ask for a higher endorsement than this! And it seems Little Adanrel is the fashionista for the gang.

Lucky Methy! Nine years old and she gets to disappear because of her birthsign. I'm sure the others are jealous of that!

So, looks like Little Teresa will be joining a gang and perhaps getting to shoot a real bow! Hmm. . . Naughty Nightshades?

I see you let us know that this episode took place shortly after Teresa's first encounter with Vols (eight years old, missing tooth - ouch).

Ahh, gang names!

Dandy Bandits, Tamriel Terrors, Naughty Nightshades? Hmm. Bosmer Brigands?

I enjoyed this, especially how Teresa diverted the shop owner (Sergius, Tertullian or Cicero?) from the other two girls.

The silliness they all possess is precious!

"But it was from ahead that the sound racing feet came to her ears."
Did a member of the Thieves' Guild abscond with an "of"?

Edit: This scene is so sweet. And poor Adanrel is still a loser. I have a soft spot for Methredhel, she's just cool. (I'm in love with Dynari Amnis though )

hazmick: Thank you hazmick. Adanrel is indeed the least brightest of the bunch. I am afraid any "waterfront" names are out, as it will be years before any of the girls will be living on the Waterfront.


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. I am glad it was fun, I wanted Methredhel and Adanrel to come across that way. Unlike Teresa, the two of them had the chance to actually be children.


haute ecole rider: I shopped at the Three Brothers just the other day. I'm not sure which one I spoke to though... Seriously, I can never keep them straight, neither would our three bosmer girls.

I like the Bosmer Brigands. I will have to try to work that in too. Maybe the Three Bosmer as well.


MyCat: Yep, looks like the Grey Fox swooped in and stole my word! Thank you for retrieving it for me.

I have always had a soft spot for Methredhel. You are quite right about Adanrel, she was a loser even back then!


Next: Little Teresa returns to the Arena District, and bumps into someone unexpected...


* * *

Chapter 15.5 - Old Friends, Not Forgotten

Teresa dodged through the crowds in front of the Fighters Guild hall on Sword Avenue - the main road that curved through the Arena District. The street was always busy with people going to and from the Arena, making it a good place for begging. But today she was looking for the insula where Methredhel had said that she and Adanrel lived in. It should be just past the guildhall, she recalled, and to the right.

Craning her neck to stare up at the battered four and five story tenements that lined the street, she looked for the one with the broken dragon's head above the entrance to its atrium. The next thing she knew, she stumbled into something hard and metallic. Pain blossomed where her cheek met steel, and she cried out in spite of herself.

"Hey kid, you alright?" Looking up, she found that the gentle voice belonged to a fair-skinned Imperial with sea-blue eyes. Must be a Colovian, the wood elf found herself musing as she stared. His black hair was cropped short, and his features were square and rugged, what most women seemed to call handsome. "You gotta watch where you're going girl, or you'll get flattened."

His body was girded in the dark plate armor of the Imperial Legion, and Teresa's heart leapt into her throat when she recognized it. Unlike most legionaries however, his breastplate was inlaid with shining gold formed into the image of a laurel. Also, unlike the rounded pommels that regular soldiers had on their weapons, the one on his arming sword was wide, and shaped like a row of lobes stretching out to either side of the grip. A leather pack was slung across his back, and he balanced a long duffel bag over one shoulder. He wore no helmet, and a red amulet hung from his neck. Shaped like a shield, it bore the image of a white sword point down across its face.

Her heart eased its pounding at the sight of the amulet. He was Fighters Guild, she realized, not a legionary.

"Damn Vitellus, first day in the guild and you're at it already." The harsh tones came from a dark elf standing beside the fighter. He wore one of the guild amulets as well, but his plate armor of a different style. The kind worn by knights and other adventurers rather than soldiers. His red eyes burned like angry coals, and his head was topped with black hair that was cut into a single, long stripe down the length of his skull. A cliffracer, Teresa thought, having seen many other Dunmer men wearing their hair that way. "I heard you had an eye for women, but can't you at least wait until they grow up?"

"Sit on it and spin ash-face." The Colovian's voice was no longer the gentle tone that he had addressed Teresa with, but instead a hard as nails. Turning to the other man, he made a rude gesture with his forearm.

Teresa took the opportunity to dart around the legs of the fighter, and raced back into the crowded street behind him. She thought she heard the Colovian call out behind her, but could not tell for certain in the noise of the traffic. He had not seemed cruel, but she was not going to stick around to find out if she was wrong. Slipping her way through the masses, she quickly put distance between herself and the two mercenaries.

Finally, when she was a block away, she slowed and began to scan the insulas rising to the side of the boulevard once more. All showed chipped white-wash, loose stones, broken shutters, and other signs of disrepair. The same as everything else here in the Arena District, Teresa thought. Except for the Arena itself of course. That was where all the money was after all.

At last she spied a familiar head of brown hair on one side of the road. Allowing a faint smile to crest her lips, Teresa dodged her way through the traffic, and was halfway across the street when the hair's owner came into full view. It was Methredhel, sitting on a stoop and eating an apple. Beside her was Adanrel, holding a mirror up to her face and making faces into it.

Methredhel's eyes settled upon her, and Teresa was gratified by the way they lit in recognition. A wide grin crested the other girl's features, and she lifted her arm to wave Teresa over. Then a cart clattered past, obscuring the two girls from view. Teresa waited for it to pass, but when it was gone she found something else blocking her path.

"Well, well, look who we have here." It was the same dark elf from the day before. He stared down at Teresa like a starving dog eying a piece of raw meat. The bright flash of steel came from his right hand, and he stepped forward, reaching out with his left. "Time for Valen's luck to change!"

Teresa gulped as he stretched out to her. Her legs knew what to do however, and before she knew it she was racing pell mell down the street. Dodging between people, she called up all the speed her feet could muster. From the angry and surprised cries behind her, she knew that the Dunmer was in hot pursuit.

For once she was thankful for her child's stature. Thanks to being small, she was able to slip between people in the crowd with ease. While a glance over her shoulder revealed that the much larger Dunmer had to push and shove his way through the crowd, slowing him down. Still, that size of his meant that Teresa had to take at least two steps to match only one of his. She would have to not only be fast, she knew, but find some way to outwit him in the gaggle of people on the street.

With that in mind she veered toward a fruit stand on the sidewalk, near an insula wall. Stepping onto a crate, she launched herself into the air and dove headfirst into the fruit. Apples, pears, oranges, and lemons went flying as she crashed into the wooden frame of the display case. Pain wracked through her hands and chest as they smashed into the hickory bin, and she tumbled to an even harder landing on the stone cobbles of the street beyond.

Absolute pandemonium broke out in the street behind her. Teresa did not pause to watch however. Clawing her way to her feet, she tore off down the road while the fruit vendor screamed curses behind her, mixed in with numerous other shouts of anger and disbelief. Another loud clatter told the young wood elf's ears that her pursuer had run afoul of the mess, and she prayed to Nocturnal that it would keep him long enough for her to disappear.

The street opened up before her then, allowing the street urchin to pour on all the speed her little frame could muster in a straight dash. However, she knew that would make her easier to see as well, and as soon as her eyes picked out an alley, she raced for it.

"Run you little Witch! Run!' the voice of the Dunmer rang out behind her, like the cackle of a mad rooster. "I'm coming for you!"

Teresa fought for breath as she darted between the narrow walls of the alley. Her body ached from her desperate leap, and her lungs felt like they were on fire. She had to lose him quick, she knew, or she was done for. The hard slap of feet behind her told her that the madman was gaining on her. There was no time to lose.

Then the alley let out into another cross street. A crow winged across her eyes, diving low near the pavement and squawking in a shrill tone. As she watched, it winged down between the wheels of a wagon that rolled down the street, only to rise back into the air on the other side a moment later. A line of other wains clattered down the thoroughfare behind it, all piled high with barrels of what Teresa imagined might be wine or ale for the nearby Arena.

Not thinking about what she was doing, the young wood elf ran directly for the line of vehicles. Their spoked wheels were a blur of motion, growing larger with every step. The horses pulling them seemed like snorting giants, their iron-shod feet striking up a clatter on the hard stones under foot. Still she raced on, until she was only a step from the small caravan.

Just as the bird had done, Teresa dove between the metal-rimmed wheels of the nearest wagon. The noise was terrific, assailing the wood elf's ears like the roar of thunder. Rolling along the hard cobbles of the street, pain once more lanced into her arms and chest. The flashing of spokes filled her vision, and she paused a moment to allow the back of the back wheels of the wagon to pass by just inches in front of her face.

Then daylight greeted Teresa's eyes, and she scrambled to her feet as the next wagon bore down upon her. She heard the driver shout, and the pair of horses pulling the conveyance let out a loud whinny. They were so close that their spittle flew across her cheek, and their strong odor filled her nostrils.

But her feet were on the ground again, and her knees pushed her onward, off the street and into the safety of the raised sidewalk beyond the center of the road. She saw a pile of waist-high hemp baskets against the wall of a laundry, and raced into them. Tearing the lid from one, she leapt inside and pulled it shut behind her.

Covering her lips to quiet the sound of her breathing, she forced herself not to gulp air from her mouth, but rather to breathe through her nose. Quiet, she told herself, don't make a sound. Otherwise he would hear her. If he did, it was all over.

Daring to push the lid of the basket high enough to create a crack, she peered out into the street. The wagons had gone now, and the Dunmer came jogging into view. He was gasping for breath, and doubled over for a moment. Then he straightened again, casting his eyes from one end of the street to the other.

Teresa's heart leapt into her throat when his eyes seemed to settle upon her. She bit her palm to keep from screaming, and felt her bowels begin to loosen once more. But a moment later the madman looked away, and sprinted down the street after the wagons.

Teresa breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed into the floor of the basket. Her entire body ached from bumps, bruises, and scrapes. She trembled all over, and felt her eyes moisten with tears. Why was he after her? she wondered. She had never even seen that dark elf before, what had she ever done to him?

A pair of muffled voices came to her ears, and she felt the basket momentarily rise, then fall back to the ground. She could not restrain a startled yelp. A moment later the lid was pulled away, and Teresa blinked in the bright sunlight that framed the heads of two Imperial women wearing aprons.

"What are you doing in here little one!" one of the olive-skinned women declared. "Get out of there before I tan your backside! Run along and play somewhere else."

Crawling from the basket, Teresa scurried away on shaking legs while the washer-women shook their heads behind her. Then a soft hand clapped on her shoulder, and a comforting voice filled her ears.

"Teresa, are you alright?" It was Methredhel! Turning, she found the older girl standing beside her with a look of worry marring her soft features. Behind her stood Adanrel, with one hand over her chest, trying hard to catch her breath. "I can't believe you did that! You could have been killed!"

"I would have if that man had caught me." Teresa breathed. She felt herself start to shake even harder. Then Methredhel's arms wrapped around her and pulled her close.

"Hey, it's ok, you're safe now. You got away," the other elf whispered into her ear.

"It's not ok!" Teresa was surprised by the emotion that burst from her lips. "One day he's gonna catch me, and he's gonna kill me! What am I gonna do!"

"Who is that guy anyway?" Adanrel asked now. "What did he catch you doing?"

"Nothing, I didn't steal nothing, if that's what you're thinking." Teresa spat back at the other girl. "I don't know who he is. He's crazy. He showed up the other day calling me a Witch, and ranting about me cursing him to lose on his bets. He said he's gonna kill me, and he's got the biggest knife in Oblivion to do it with!"

"Hey, hey, settle down," Methredhel said in a soothing tone, running one hand through the tangled mane of Teresa's brown hair. "We're not going to let that happen. The Bosmer Brigands stick together, right?"

"The Grey Vixens…" came the voice of Adanrel. "Besides, just tell one of the soldiers, they'll take care of him."

"Oh grow up Adanrel," Teresa muttered with all the vinegar her tongue could muster. "That'll just make it worse. They don't care about people like us. Just yesterday one threatened to throw me in prison. The law is only for rich folks."

"She's right, it is," Methredhel smiled, her eyes aglow with conspiratorial delight. "So we will just have to find a patrician to help us."

"What are you thinking Methredhel?" Adanrel gave the oldest Bosmer a look that was half wary, but also partly glittering with anticipation.

"Okay, here's what we'll do…"

CLIFFHANGERING should be a Crime punishable by being locked in a room with your computer and not being let out until a new chapter is finished!!!!

Man! Except maybe for the fight in Jensine's shop, this was probably the most thrilling chapter I've read.

That Dreth sure has it in for our little Bosmer! Oh, where is Julian when she needs a savior the most!

(Julian assures me she was in Skyrim fighting Goblins at the time)

12.1

One of the (many) things I like about your writing is that there are effects from what has gone before. They may be emotional or physical- but they are not simply glossed over after a major event. And that is part of what makes Teresa and Simplicia and Vols and Jensine and … everyone else real in the reader’s mind.

And the argument with Simplicia still hurts- because it is so well-written.

12.2

Teresa’s experience of the differences between the wealthy and working-class districts is subtle, yet conveys the message effectively.

Is it just me, or did you turn up the creepiness of Umbacano a few notches? The description of the Ayleid Ancestor’s aura was quite impressive. And her feeling of an unwanted kinship with the Altmer is also quite interesting- and sets my dachshund-sense to tingling.

12.3

The appearance by another beloved character is a high point, of course. The bond of adversity, of each being present at the death of an Emperor, was magnificent. Equally compelling was Teresa’s beginning awareness that she was where she needed to be.

12.4

The last line feels prophetic- but I rather fear Teresa is seeing with her heart instead of her “inner eye.” Yet another reason why seers (e.g. Morcant) tend to go where they can be alone and avoid the complications of other people in their lives.

13.1

Street food! And Teresa amongst the steel-clad (and unclad!) Legionaries.



Nervous? Surely not!

And some thoughts on healing magic to end with.

13.2



A doped-up Vols is always fun to watch.

This is a part of your story that always draws me in and catches me by surprise, like that glimpse of home as you round the last bend. There is so much to love here, and so much of the writer’s craft on display.

13.3

The role-reversal is poignant, and cannot help but move anyone- especially those who have experienced it. And, in your brilliant way, you bring things full circle and put the world right again, with Simplicia as the mother and Teresa the child.



I think a “with” has disappeared from between “life” and “another.”


Oh, gang names. I can absolutely fail at that! How about “ ‘Rel’s Belles,” “Waterfront Wisps,”
“The Char-Mers”? The last of which, of course, is an Adanrel suggestion- and which will be pointed out makes them sound like a bunch of cleaning-women!

ETA- Just saw the "no waterfront" restriction- so how's about- "The IC Tree-Cats" or the "The IC Hots"? (sorry, couldn't resist that pun)

Ok, no waterfront. what about ''Meth's Mer'' or ''The Bosmer Bruisers.''

anyway back to the main plot. That darn valen dreth, will he get his comeuppance soon? lets hope so


''Turning to the other man, he and made a rude gesture with his forearm.''

I'm not usually a nit picker but is there supposed to be a word after ''he''?

Whew! Let me catch my breath. Not only did you provide a merry chase and heartpounding story, you cleverly displayed so very much of the TF Arena District. Your blending of action and description here was brilliant.

How wonderful to meet Pappy and Raven!

Wonderful portrayal of Methredhel - showing a touch of protectiveness towards Teresa is quite becoming.

Nit-
Hmm, surprised Foxy didn't go to town with this. . . Perhaps 'as he stretched out towards her' or such?

I censored myself. I like being here, and don't want the banhammer...

They were quite a couple of chapters, certainly action filled and rather dark. Also possibly my favourite so far, that chase was excellent.

And now there's a cliffhanger... exciting.

Wow, what a fantastic volume of work this has turned into. Awesome!!

I hate to think how many hours you have put into this. Sleep, eat, work. Everything else - get lost!!

I really enjoyed Methredhel. She is one of those characters that defines the waterfront. So cool that you give her so much depth of feeling.

D.Foxy: Thank you foxy. This chapter is finished. I am just taking my time posting it, as always.


haute ecole rider: I am glad you thought this chapter was exciting. I was afraid most folks would be getting bored since there has not been any battles in a while. I went back and worked your gang name into the previous post.


treydog: Thank you dog. Those were two of my favorite chapters, because of how much depth it gives Vols, Simplicia, and Teresa's relationships with them. And yes, I did turn of Umbacano's creepiness in purpose.


hazmick: Thank you haz. In the next few segments Dreth will indeed wish he had never crossed the Tamriel Terrors!


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. I had a lot of fun squeezing an appearance by Pappy into this chapter. He is not the only supporting character to make a visit in the past, as this next segment will show. I also wanted to find some way to weave Teresa's spirit guide in as well, as a subtle reminder that it has indeed always been with her, only she never paid attention.


Olen: Thank you Olen. I am glad people are liking Little Teresa and the gang. As I said to h.e.r., I was afraid that it might seem dull.


Winter Wolf: Thank you Wolf. I spend a lot of time working on these chapters! But it all pays off when I see the end result. Methredhel has always been one of my favorite characters, from way before I ever did the Thieves Guild quest. So I always look forward to writing her.


Next: The Bosmer Brigands head to the Arena for a final showdown with Valen Dreth


* * *

Chapter 15.6 - Old Friends, Not Forgotten

Teresa scanned the crowd within the Arena and tried to make herself look small. Not a difficult thing to do being a child surrounded by adults. She stood among the upper rows of stone benches that ringed the interior of the building. From within, it was clear to Teresa that the amphitheater was not truly circular, as it appeared to be from the outside, but rather was stretched out in to a long ellipse.

Looking down from the cheap seats where she stood, her eyes passed over the rings of benches that made their way down the interior of the Arena. There were breaks in the seating at regular intervals, where aisleways led up and down the seats, and tunnels led to the concourse that ringed the outer wall of the amphitheater, underneath the floor upon which she stood.

Tens of thousands of people of all races jammed into the seats and walked to and fro. The farther down her eyes looked, the better dressed Teresa found they were. Where most of the spectators were commoners like herself, far down near the floor of the Arena could be seen patricians in their velvet and silk. Yet even they still had to sit upon stone benches as everyone else.

Beyond them, in the very first row overlooking the fighting area itself, were those not only wealthy enough to afford the best clothing, but also sporting the Imperial purple. Only members of the Imperial family and the Elder Council were allowed to wear that color, Teresa knew. As she gazed upon the Councilors, their families, and guests, she saw that they sat upon velvet-padded seats, ate fruit from silver platters, and drank wine from goblets that sparkled from encrusted gemstones.

Further down, the very bottom of the Arena was walled off from the crowd, and stretched in a rectangle hundreds of feet long. Barred gateways led into the fighting ground from intervals in the walls. When she had first come in, there had been men fighting on the sandy floor. Now they were gone however, and the entire area was slowly filling with water.

She felt a tugging at her sleeve, and turned to see Adanrel standing there. "We found our mark," she shouted into Teresa's ear. In spite of her yell, Teresa could only barely hear the other wood elf over the noise of the crowd. "Those two down there, the man in blue and the woman in red!"

Teresa nodded, and followed the other girl down the steep aisleway to the lower levels of the amphitheater. As they neared the floor, she got a better look at the two that Adanrel had indicated. The man was an Imperial, with the olive skin and dark hair so characteristic of his race. He wore blue velvet stitched with cloth-of-gold, and Teresa noted that he did not carry a weapon, not even a dagger. The woman beside him was clad in a brilliant gown of red silk quilted into numerous diamonds, each centered with a golden pin. Her brown hair was done up behind her head in a complicated pattern of knots, and held together by jeweled sticks.

Most of all, Teresa noted that there was no armored thug hovering over them. No bodyguard, she thought, and the man not even armed. What fools. They deserved to be robbed.

Now Methredhel appeared from the crowd. Teresa had no idea where she had come from. One moment she was simply there, smiling at her with a twinkle in her emerald eyes. "You remember what to do right?"

Teresa nodded, swallowing hard as she thought about her part in the plan. She would rather have taken Adanrel's place running interference. But that would have been impossible, and they all knew it.

"Remember to wait for our signal before you start." Methredhel cautioned. Then she turned to Adanrel. "Alright, let's go pick the peacock's feathers."

With that the two of them scampered off, giggling and yelping like silly children. Adanrel took the lead as they careened down the aisleway two steps at a time. Teresa almost winced as the young wood elf crashed directly into the woman in red, then fell away, only to collapse into her male companion. Methredhel was right behind, adding her own small body to the fray.

Teresa was too far away to hear what was said, but from the look on the man's face he was scolding the two girls for being so clumsy. For their own part, the two Bosmer appeared to be making hasty apologies as they disengaged themselves and stumbled back to the aisleway, this time moving more slowly and carefully.

Had it worked? Teresa wondered. The pair seemed no different than before. Looking back to the two girls, she saw they were now working their way through the benches across the amphitheater. Methredhel paused to look back, and grinned widely. She had done it! Teresa knew, and her heart leaped. This might actually work!

Her eyes were glued to the pair as they reached the next aisleway and steadily worked their way higher up through the crowd. Finally they came to a Dunmer whose face she knew all too well. It was the madman who had haunted her steps for the last three days. He stood just a few paces from the aisle, eating a stuffed flatbread wrap and drinking from a clay tankard.

Adanrel and Methredhel cut directly through the row he was standing in, forcing everyone to squeeze back to allow them through. Adanrel made a repeat of her previous performance, albeit this time less dramatically. Appearing to lose her footing, she leaned heavily against the Dunmer, who precariously balanced his ale in one hand and wrap in the other. She saw Methredhel's hand dart in then, and a moment later pull back. Then the two girls moved on, and the madman settled back to his lunch without a second thought.

Teresa gulped again. Now it was her turn. Before she could talk herself out of it, she stepped down the aisleway and tugged at the sleeve of the woman in red. She could not believe how soft and smooth the material of her gown felt under her fingertips. It was like nothing she had ever felt in her life. More importantly, it revealed that the woman's wrist was indeed bare, as Teresa had hoped.

"Your pardon milady," the street urchin began, trying to sound as obsequious as possible. "But you've been robbed."

"What?" the woman's voice was high, and had that lilting quality that most Bretons seemed to possess. Her eyes widened in shock. Teresa was not sure at what, feeling a mangy street urchin touch her, or the news that she had been burglarized. "What do you mean? Who are you?"

"Yes, just what is this about?" Her companion leaned down over Teresa like a dark thundercloud. Where she had barely been able to hear the soft voice of the woman, his words boomed like thunder in her ears. "What do you think you are up to prole?"

"Honest my lord," Teresa bit her lower lip and pointed at the Breton woman's wrist. "Your lady, her bracelet, it's been stolen."

"Oh by the Nine, she's right!" the Breton cried out, one hand clamping down upon the bare flesh above her hand. "The one you gave me for our engagement, it's gone!"

"And I suppose you know who stole it, don't you?" The Imperial boomed, and Teresa did not like the way he was glowering down upon her. "Probably because you did it yourself, and now you think you can sell it right back to us!"

"No sir!" Teresa cried. Her heart pounded in her chest like a race horse, and she could not keep her eyes from flying open. "By the Nine my lord. I swear! I didn't take it!" At least that part was true, Teresa thought, and she turned to point up into the stands, toward the Dunmer. "He did."

"He was never down here," the Imperial growled.

This was not going at all the way she had imagined it, the young wood elf thought. She had better think of something quick, or Methredhel's plan was going to unravel like twenty year-old sackcloth. "He was invisible! He uses scrolls to do it."

"And how would you know that, unless you are working for him?" the man went on, and Teresa had to fight the urge to bolt while she still could.

"Everyone down here knows what he does," she explained. "He brags about it. How he fleeces rich folk who come to the Arena. He was showing off your lady's bracelet just a few minutes ago!"

"We'll just see about that!" the man seemed satisfied, and pushed his way past Teresa and into the aisleway. "I'm going to go talk to this man, and see if what you say is true. If it isn't then I won't be happy. You understand me."

Teresa wilted under his glare. Her tongue deserted her, so all she could do was nod in return. It was his fiance who spoke next however.

"Why Raminus!" she cried, "you are terrifying this poor little girl, who is only trying to help us!"

The man's voice softened as he looked to the woman. "My dear Cornelia, you have never been to the Imperial City before. You have no idea the depths some people will sink to here. We'll see if she's telling the truth. You'd better stay here while I take her and see this man."

His hand reached out for Teresa, but with the quickness of a cat, the urchin dodged aside. Leaping behind the woman, she clung to her skirts, as if to hide behind them.

"Please my lady!" she wailed, not having to act too hard at feigning her terror. "Don't let him take me! If he knows it's me who turned him in, he'll kill me for sure!"

Teresa was gratified when the woman's hand came down upon her head, and the Breton moved to place herself protectively between Teresa and her fiancé. "Raminus don't, can't you see she is terrified. Oh the poor dear. She can stay with me while you see to that ruffian."

The Imperial - Raminus - looked like he was going to say something, and Teresa did her best to make her eyes look wide and innocent. It was a look she practiced while begging. Sometimes it even worked. It must have this time, for he turned away with a shake of his head and strode across the amphitheater toward the Dunmer.

Didn't see THAT one coming....oh Rosie you are one, bad-boat, evil, brilliant, revenge plotting GEE NEE YUS!!!!

well played Very dramatic, it just goes to show that you should NEVER mess with a Bosmer.

Oh yeah! So THAT'S how Dreth ends up in jail, huh?

Did the girls plan it, or was it pure accident? On the one hand, I can see them doing it to take care of Dreth; on the other hand I can see them framing him, turning him in and collecting the reward. Oh, well, I will have to wait for the next installment of the Bosmer Brigands!

Yay more Teresa!

I am really loving the flashback chapters! The girls are so adorable, while at the same time clearly being shaped by their rough pasts (Teresa especially. ) I love their plan to take care of Dreth, who really has it coming, picking on a poor little girl like that...

Very clever SubRosa! My goodness you put a ton of thought and creativity into this!

And brilliantly presented. The centerpiece (to me) was Teresa coaxing the 'marks' to fall for it. I was on the edge of my seat, but by the Nine, she did it! You brought up everything that could go wrong with the plan, but then made having it work seem like the only outcome that could have possibly happened.

A wonderful description of the Arena in the midst of just another day of bloodletting. I'm wondering a couple things:
- May I presume that Raminus is none other than our friend from the Arcane University? That would explain his lack of need for weaponry.
- I seem to recall flooding ancient Arenas for a purpose, but please refresh me.

A cliffie for sure, but I shall chuckle in admiration until you resolve what happens to old Dreth.

Nit- I believe you want 'a' here.

In ancient Rome, they used to flood the arena (not the Coliseum, I don't think, but I could be wrong) to re-enact naval battles.

Another tense, and tightly plotted installment. I think because it's a flashback and so of limited length it comes across as a short-story within your setting (building on characters we know) and you've taken full advantage of the opportunity for a tense subplot, and tense it was. The theft and plant were a good builtup and then her persuading them was excellent.

And a cunning vengeance, I can't imagine they'd put dreth down for that long for pickpocketing so it makes me wonder if Teresa is the reason he was in jail, or if something else happens. I await with excitment.

And as ever a little more worldbuilding with flooding the arena (and it's description). You're version of Cyrodiil is a rich place now, it makes me hope Teresa decides to take a trip abroad at some point in her future...

14.1
Another good bit of world- (and society) building here, with the arrogant Imperials. And I loved the description of the granaries- and the ominously under-populated barracks.

Second paragraph:



I think a stray daedra left an apostrophe in amongst your “others”.

14.2

The wonderful descriptions have already been noted.

The meeting with Phillida is brilliant- we see a brief return of the Teresa bravado AND get some hint as to why he is a successful general.

14.3

Teresa’s words of wisdom and comfort to Baurus show that she has indeed changed.



Your sconces are again being difficult- perhaps if you fed them one of Destri’s scones they would behave? Or maybe they would prefer a sweet roll?



An extra “was,” I believe. Just how much Tamika’s has Teresa had?

14.4
Ohhhh! Piner at the Priory with a dagger! Makes me wonder what other kind of rot we will discover within the Empire’s woodwork.



Teresa’s persistent curiosity makes another appearance.



It is so much fun to see our elf vacillating between the confident tone she (briefly) takes with Phillida and this return to her previous state of doubt. Of course, as Baurus (and a certain fellow name Sherlock Holmes) knows, street people make wonderful spies.

Despite her qualifications, her decision makes sense. And, by agreeing to correspond through the drop, she is more of a Blades agent than she realizes…. Clever fellow, that Baurus.



I think her fear transmitted itself to a “the” between “on” and “short”.

15.1

One of the hardest things about growing older is the “growing apart” you so ably illustrate here. Friends who once shared everything begin to discover that they are different people now, and hardly know how to relate to one another.

15.2

This was a bittersweet interlude on many levels. Friends going different directions, city elf vs. forest elf, and some unrequited lust… Your style makes this one sing, even if the song is a little melancholy.



The “the” that escaped above seems to have tried to sneak back in.

15.3

An incredibly powerful installment. To first be accosted and assaulted (by Valen Dreth!) and then abused further by her nominal “rescuer.” The origins of her feelings about the Legion are clear.

15.4

And you pull us back from the darkness with a look at the young Methredhel and Adanrel that is nothing short of beautiful. Nothing to say that has not already been said more eloquently.

15.5

And an early meeting with Pappy. I wonder if the waspish Dunmer with him is Oreyn?

And perhaps another bit of foreshadowing, with Valen Dreth’s "I'm coming for you"?

An incredibly tense and again, cinematic, chase. Your writing is so clear that every moment was visible to me as I read. No worries about being dull- I think most of your fanatical readership is, well, fanatical precisely because we love character-driven stories. And your brilliant descriptions of the IC make it another character in your rich and varied cast.

15.6

Methie is already showing her aptitude for the Thieves Guild. And the plan is brilliant, as well. Loved the description of the Arena.

Paragraph one: “amphitheatre.” Paragraph two forward: “amphitheater.” I think your style-sheet abandoned you…


Another one of those daedra-dropped apostrophes worked its way into your plural noun.

What!? I’m caught up? But, but… that means I will have to wait along with everyone else for the next installment of The IC Char-Mers. And I HATE waiting!

D.Foxy: Thank you fox. I am glad what the girls were up to was not too obvious


hazmick: Let alone mess with three Bosmer!


haute ecole rider: Yes indeed, this is how everyone's favorite convict wound up in the cell across the hall from you. I had a lot of fun using this chapter to tie in characters from both the ES universe in general and the TF in particular into Teresa's past. It was indeed all Methredhel's plan, hence the last sentence of the previous segment.


Kazaera: Thank you Kazaera. It always feels good to see the underdog win, and Little Teresa is certainly that.


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. I spent several days going over the plot to this chapter again and again. I am so glad the end result has worked so well for so many people. My main concern has been that Methredhel's sting operation comes off too smoothly, but it sounds like Raminus threw enough bumps in the road to keep that from happening. Speaking of Raminus, which one he is will be shown this next segment.

And yes, the Romans did flood the Colosseum to stage naval battles as h.e.o. mentioned. However, I think they had to stop doing that after they built in the underground levels, which was only a few decades after it was opened. So it was not for a long time. I figure in the ES they can get around the flooding problem with magic.


Olen: Thank you Olen. I never really thought of the flashback this way, but you are right. It is a story within a story. I am glad it is working.


treydog: Where would I be without my editor to swat those Daedric apostrophe's, not to mention the recalcitrant sconces? You are finally caught up!

Its funny, because even Teresa knows that street people make the best spies, as we will see her using one for just that purpose later in the tale! And just as you and others noted, Baurus still has her working for him, even though she turned him down!

That annoying Dunmer with the mohawk was indeed Oreyn. I almost put his name in there, but Pappy calling him "ash-face" sounded more natural.


Next: The final showdown with Valen Dreth.

* * *

Chapter 15.7 - Old Friends, Not Forgotten

Teresa let out a long sigh of relief. Thank Nocturnal! she thought. She had no idea it would have been so hard to convince someone they had been pick-pocketed! The Breton woman must have felt her trembling, because she let her hand drop around the street urchin's shoulders and gave her a gentle hug.

"There now little one," Cornelia said in that soothing tone of her race. "Everything will be alright. My Raminus will put paid to that blackguard!"

"But he's not even armed," Teresa observed, "or with a hired man."

"Raminus does not need weapons," the woman scoffed, and Teresa could see her slender frame swell with pride. "He is a weapon. He is a master of Destruction at the Arcane University. The youngest magister to ever become a sage."

Teresa gulped. Methredhel sure could pick them! Thank Nocturnal it was not the Arch-Mage himself!

Then the booming voice of the Arena announcer filled the stands, drowning out everything else. Teresa wondered how he could talk so loud, and imagined that it must be the doing of magic.

"Lords and Ladies of Cyrodiil, I am pleased to announce a special waterborne bout for this afternoon. Sailing into the Arena is our first contender. The Serpent King of Black Marsh, the most dreaded pirate of the seas, Captain Vistha-Kai!"

Teresa glanced down, and saw a barge floating out into the center of the Arena. On it was an Argonian wearing the spiked leather raiment that all gladiators wore. He carried a trident in one hand, and a net was carefully arranged upon one of his shoulders, held by his other hand.

The crowd erupted into a chorus of cheers, and people leaped to their feet all around. When finally they settled down once more, Teresa saw that another barge was floating out into the water now. This one contained the strangest looking orc the street urchin had ever seen. Rather than being the deep green of all his race, his skin was a chalky grey in color, nearly white. He clenched an entirely normal-looking shield in one hand, and a steel arming sword in the other.

"Now, a newcomer to the Arena!" the announcer's voice boomed out once more. "An Orisimer like none other, he calls himself The Grey Prince! It is Agronak gro-Malog!"

"Now what is your name little girl?" the Breton's voice pulled Teresa's attention away from the curious orc. Cornelia's hand rose to the street urchin's head, and her fingers traced their way through the pattern of braids that Adanrel had woven into her hair. Framing her face, they gathered together at the nape of her neck and from there fell into a single bob. "Such lovely hair you have."

"I'm Teresa my lady," Teresa lowered her eyes, distinctly aware of how warm her cheeks were turning at the woman's praise.

"Well, I am Cornelia Arganeael, from Wayrest," she announced. "Soon to be the Lady Polus. Now that we have been properly introduced, I am sure we shall come to be good friends."

Teresa nodded, not sure what to say. Looking back up the rows of seats, she saw that her fiancé had reached the Dunmer. He immediately began talking to the elf, and Teresa could see him gesturing with his finger toward the other man's pockets. The look on the Dunmer's face went from initial surprise to a dark, angry glare. It only took a few moments for him to shove Raminus away, sending him sprawling down the steps of the aisle.

"Oh Raminus!" The Breton started beside her, practically leaping from the row of benches where they stood. Teresa felt her heart begin to pound in her chest. She had not been expecting that! Biting her lip once more, she hoped that the Imperial had not been hurt by his tumble down the stair.

Teresa was relieved when he rose to his feet a moment later, and took a moment to dust himself off. His hand spiked into the air above his head, and a yellow glow descended around his frame. Then he resolutely made his way back up the steps toward the Dunmer. Before he could reach the dark elf, he was intercepted by one of the Arena guards, an orc wearing mail and carrying a mace at his hip. Teresa could see that Raminus said something to the guard, who stepped in front of the Imperial and led him back to the dark elf.

The orc reached out to grab the Dunmer. But the madman whirled out of reach. Teresa saw a flash of steel in his hand, and a moment later she saw the knife buried nearly to the hilt in the Orisimer's armored breast. The green mer staggered back, and fell heavily to the steps as the Dunmer shoved his way past and raced up the steps.

He did not get far however. Teresa's eyes dazzled with afterimages as a bolt of lightning forked out from the hand Raminus Polus and crackled up the aisleway. The madman was thrown forward as the blast struck him square in the back. He hit the stone steps face-first, smoke curling up from his charred clothing. Teresa could see he was still moving afterward, albeit only barely. Then the spectators around the fray rose to their feet and blocked off her view.

Teresa tried to squeeze her way through the crowd to get a better view, but a hand from Cornelia stopped her. "We had better wait here little Teresa," she insisted, "Raminus will return soon enough." The street urchin could see that she was biting her lip as well. However, the glow in her eyes did not look pensive. Rather it seemed excited, almost predatory.

In that moment Teresa remembered something that she had once heard the orc who owned Slash And Smash say: "Women say they don't like it. But the truth is nothing gets them more worked up than bringing them the still-beating heart of an enemy. Gets them hot as the Alik'r Desert." Teresa had always thought it sounded ridiculous, but when she looked into Cornelia's eyes, she saw that the orc had been dead right.

It took several minutes for the commotion to die down and the spectators to retake their seats. Teresa was able to glimpse the Dunmer being dragged away by a pair of the Arena guards. She could see that one was the guard who had been stabbed, and relief flooded through her. Thank Nocturnal he was alright, she thought. What if he had died because of her?

"Well Cornelia, this has certainly been an exciting day." The voice of Raminus Polus caused Teresa to nearly jump out of her clothes. Spinning around, she saw him standing with a white-gold bracelet in hand. It was shaped like two cords tied together into a knot, and was crusted with sparkling diamonds.

It must have been worth a fortune, Teresa realized. To think that Methredhel put it in the Dunmer's pocket, when she could have kept it instead… Her heart leapt at the thought. Methredhel had done that for her, and they had only just met the day before! Who else in the world would have done such a thing, except Simplicia of course?

"Oh Raminus, thank Mara you are alright!" The Breton threw her arms around the Imperial and kissed him. Not a little peck on the lips either. From where Teresa was standing, it looked like she was sucking his lungs out. The street urchin looked away, feeling vaguely ill. Why did grown-ups always want to do gross things like that? she wondered. One thing was for certain, when she was big, she never would!

"You were masterful my dear." The sound of Cornelia's voice brought Teresa's gaze back to the pair. For if she was speaking again, it meant she must have stopped kissing him. "Did you kill that foul beast?" The street urchin saw that the elegant lady was fixing the bracelet around her wrist once more. Then the Imperial filled her vision.

"No, merely wounded him, although I imagine that lightning bolt will leave quite a mark…" the Imperial declared, and Teresa could detect a certain amount of smug pride in his voice. "I would not want to deprive the Imperial Prison of a new resident after all! That blackguard will have plenty of years to rue the day he thought to rob the new Lady Polus!"

And you my young lady," the magician turned to Teresa, leaning down with his hands on his hips. "It seems I owe you an apology. I was wrong about you, and you have my humblest retraction of my earlier statements. We should be lost without your gracious intervention, and I mean to make it up to you."

Teresa's eyes widened. He was spouting a lot of big words, but if the mage meant what she thought he did, he was going to give her a reward! That had never been part of the plan! Teresa had no idea what to say. All she had ever hoped for was to be free of the madman.

"Well let it not be said that the Polus' are stingy when it comes to honoring faithful service!" Cornelia declared, drawing a purse from her waist that bulged with coins. Yet the Imperial held up a hand to stop her from giving it to Teresa.

"If we give you money, how long before someone finds out you have it, and takes it away?" he asked, "or even slits your throat to get it?"

Teresa did not know what to say. Her eyes were still glued on the velvet purse, imagining all the shining gold that must be packed away within it. The magician's final remark did sink in however. What would the gangs do to her if they found out she had money? Beat her to a pulp? kill her? Not a doubt.

"You seem to suffer some pretty hard knocks in your life." The magister now pointed to the bruises on Teresa's forearms from the previous day's tumble through the fruit stand and wagon train, and then to the splotches on her neck from where the Dunmer had choked her. "How about I give you something that can help you with that? Something that no one can ever take away from you?"

Teresa stared up at him dumbfounded. What on Nirn could he be talking about? she wondered.

"Tell me, do you know anything about magic?"


Note: Writing this chapter prompted me to go back and change the origin of Teresa's Heal and Flare spells to Raminus Polus.

Oh, what a slick plotter you are, Rosa...


... in ALL senses of the word!!!

The grey prince? well well. Your story has brought lots of characters together and has revealed some brilliant history. The origins of Teresa's magic abilities are woven seamlessly into the story. Bosmer power!

There are so many little touches of genius here that it is difficult to isolate my favorites-

The fact that Teresa’s formerly “tangled” hair has been dressed by Adanrel to the extent that the elegant Breton lady comments on it.

The elements of the “games” in the Arena- including a sighting of the Grey Prince!

The origin of Teresa’s rudimentary spells- and Raminus’ insight that they are safer than gold.

But I think the best moment of all is Teresa’s revelation about the depth of friendship that Methredhel has offered.

Those darned daedra have moved up from apostrophes to definite articles! (And they seem to have an affinity for Cornelia. Must be the innate magical nature of Bretons that attracts them.)

First the nit: It's all right, cuz it's never alwrong.

Now the praise. This paragraph made me laugh out loud, as I seldom do when reading the TF (like her faint smiles, chuckles and amused grins are more common). But Teresa's reaction to the sight of the two kissing is much like any child's - fascinated, grossed out, and vaguely embarrassed. As for never kissing like that, we'll see. I'm sure Nerussa will change Teresa's mind!

Very nicely done!

The prank almost got way out of hand. Many lessons for Teresa to ponder, no doubt. I was delighted to see this lead to a very logical long-term jail sentencs for Dreth.

Young Agronak! Yay!

Rather than tell, you have shown us a glimpse into what Methredhel is made of - quite solid stuff it seems. Well done.

Nice job with Raminus and Cornelia - on many levels.

I think Raminus deciding to reward Teresa with some knowledge of magic was brilliant on his (and your) part.

nit?
Did you mean 'gathered'?

I like the idea of where her flare and heal spells came from, definatly useful thing to know and it shows good thought on Raminus's part. The value of the bracelet also was effective in showing how much Methredhel will do for her and is a good gauge of how close they will become.

There were some nice touches, putting in younger versions of characters from Oblivion was great for linking the flashback to the story and stopping it from floating apart. And now I can see how Dreth got such a long sentence, and the debt explains the db quest which says he felt safe there...

Cornelia was a brilliant creation too, your description of her enjoyment of Raminus sparking Dreth was excellent.

I have found the man to play Chance (For those of you who did not read Teresa 1.0 on the Beth forums, he appears in the future). Charles Ingram: stuntman, actor, and former Marine Force Recon diver.

A pic from Tears of the Sun

Aother from Tears of the Sun

A beefcake shot from Great White Appetite

Tears of the Sun is such a great film...anyway, he would be a great addition.

D.Foxy: Slicker than snot on a marble?


hazmick: Thank you hazmick. I had a lot of fun bringing all these characters in for appearances in the past. Raminus Polus being the origin of Teresa's spells was never my intention when I wrote this. When I got to the end it just came out as being the natural thing to happen. So I went with it.


treydog: My Aedric editor once again saves me from the machinations of the foul Daedra!

Thank you trey. You cited all the main points I was looking to make in this segment, especially Teresa's understanding of just what lengths Methredhel was willing to go to for her.


haute ecole rider: I am going to keep alright as it is since it is part of dialogue, and it is often used that way there.

I am glad you liked Teresa's childish *eeeewwww* over seeing two people kissing. That was one of the more fun parts for me to write as well. Another one that was not planned on, but just came out when I was writing. Perhaps Nerussa will indeed change Teresa's mind...


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. The plot did indeed nearly go way too far. With the Arena guard nearly being killed and Dreth almost escaping. If Raminus had not been an accomplished magician things probably would have gone much worse.


Olen: Thank you Olen. I bet Raminus had the best sex of his life that night!


Next: We go back to the future for the conclusion of the chapter.

* * *

Chapter 15.8 - Old Friends, Not Forgotten

"To think that patrician taught you your Heal and Flare spells," Methredhel chuckled. "And all because we robbed him!"

Teresa bit her lip and turned her head to look at the other woman. Methredhel strode across the fields of heather, sun-bronzed skin shining and hair flowing out behind her. The forester was struck by how much she had changed since they were children, and how much she had not changed at all.

"I always did feel kind of bad about that," Teresa admitted. She looked ahead to the rocky hills before them. The air felt moist, and she wondered if she heard a gull screeching. They were near the lake, she sensed, perhaps only a mile or two away. "I was just glad to get rid of that madman, and that the guard he stabbed got healed."

"That's our Teresa," the forester could practically hear the other woman's head shake in amazement, "you always were an idealist, even in the gutter."

Now Teresa snorted. "Hardly. I just don't like the idea of other people suffering because of me," she said. "Life is hard enough for people, without someone making it worse for them."

"I always admired you Teresa." Now the thief stopped and met the forester's gaze. "When I think back, I can't believe how ridiculous Adanrel and I were, what kids we were. I mean, the Tamriel Terrors for Nocturnal's sake! But not you. You never were a kid. You were always so serious, like you knew something we didn't. Still you always humored us anyway. I've always looked up to you."

"What?" Teresa sputtered, feeling her eyes widen. The idea of anyone admiring her was just plain ludicrous.

"I'm serious," Methredhel said, and her features betrayed nothing but sincerity. "I had no idea how hard life could really be until my father left my mom and I, and we ended up in the Waterfront. But you, you always knew. I could see it in your eyes from the moment we met. When Adanrel and I were playing with dolls in our insula, you were on the street enduring the worst life had to offer. You showed me how strong, and how tough, someone can really be. You taught me how to survive."

Teresa knew she should say something, but as usual, her tongue had become a stone in her mouth. All of her life she had wished for Methredhel's confidence, her way with people, and her just plain brilliance. To think that all this time, she had been looking up to her? Teresa looked down at her feet, intensely aware of how Methredhel was staring at her. A familiar warmth was spreading through her cheeks when she felt the other woman's soft hand on her shoulder.

"Still can't take a compliment either I see," the other woman said, her voice now light. Teresa was thankful when the thief quickly changed the subject. "I wonder what ever happened to that crazy Dummer? At first I thought that mage killed him. But he was squirming when they dragged him off, so I guess he lived."

"I think they threw him in prison," Teresa offered, feeling more herself again now that the conversation was not about her. "After all, he had the bracelet on him, and he stabbed that orc."

That brought Teresa to a stop. Prison. The Dunmer taunting her from across the hall… Could that have been him? No, that was impossible, she thought with a shake of her head. After all these years, what was the chance of her ending up in a cell across from the same man who had tormented her as a child?

Looking back up, she found that Methredhel was staring ahead with a strange look on her face. Out of reflex Teresa drew the bowstave from her back and set a string to the weapon. Yet turning her head this way and that, the forester saw nothing untoward. The stony hills went on quietly all around. Nothing moved but for a few wild boar grazing in the distance.

"What is it?" she asked.

"You'd just think I'm crazy," Methredhel murmured, shading her eyes with the palm of her hand as she gazed ahead.

"You've been acting like this ever since we came out here," Teresa said. "Come on, spill it."

"Well, I keep thinking I see something," Methredhel explained, turning back to look at the forester. "Promise me you won't laugh?"

"I promise," Teresa insisted.

"Well, it's a fox. I keep seeing her in the distance. She looks at me, and then walks out of sight. Like she wants me to follow her. Last night I had the weirdest dream too…"

"Oh Methredhel that's your spirit guide!" Teresa wrapped her arms around the other woman and held her tightly. Perhaps they did not live in such different worlds after all…

* * *

"Legionary Macrinus, I've got a job for you."

The optio's bark brought the Imperial's gaze up from the copy of the Black Horse Courier that he had been reading. Leaping to his feet with a clatter of armor, the legionary stepped away from the bench he was sitting on and marched to the duty officer's desk.

The optio - an orc barely older than his own twenty five years - stared back up at him. The orc's expression was as sour as week-old milk, and once again Macrinus wished that Pierrick had not been transferred to Daggerfall. The old Breton had been easy to work under. But he had deserved his promotion to centurion, the legionary thought, and an assignment in his home city back in High Rock.

"We've got a release," the optio grumbled, shuffling through the heaps of parchment on the giant, upraised desk. "The paperwork just came down. It should have been this morning, but it looks like those idiot librarii lost it until now."

"Which one?" Macrinus asked, hoping it was not in the lower levels. The rats down there made his skin crawl. Especially after that one had tried to bite though his greave the other month.

"Sub-level two," the optio smiled, revealing the sharp incisors of a predator, "the pit."

Macrinus felt his heart sink. The pit, he thought, the lowest, filthiest, most revolting level of the prison. The gods must hate me, the legionary thought. The new optio certainly did. Taking the release form that the orc handed him, he stared down at the name written across it.

Valen Dreth, the legionary thought, this must be your lucky day. It certainly was not his.

Well, it's a fox. I keep seeing her in the distance.






*checks pants*

I thought the same thing as foxy, too! Though I didn't check HIS pants! Honest!

oh no! Dreth is gonna be on the streets again

on a lighter note, Methredhel has a fox as a spirit guide and she looks up to Teresa. You have done a great job of not only building up the character of Teresa but also the character of Methredhel.

And back to the present. You wove it in well, they were sort of where they left off but I think at a change of direction. Teresa gets another revelation about her low self worth and Methy gets a spirit guide (or soon will I suspect). I can't help but wonder what it's leading her to though.

And then Dreth's release. You've ceertainly laid a few hooks and foreshadowings here. I want to know more

This was a brilliant wrap-up to a brilliant chapter. That Teresa and Methredhel closed the circle, realizing that they were still friends despite having grown apart in many ways- was heartwarming. And the fact that Meth has a spirit guide- which Teresa recognizes as such- here their bond will be strengthened, even as it evolves. And isn't that the thing about relationships (of any kind?) They have to evolve or they die.

The opposite of heartwarming is the revelation that as certain Dunmer dungeon-dweller is about to return to the light of day. And I have a bad feeling that he will remember a face (or faces) even if the hair has changed.

But all of that is a worry for another day. For now, I will think of that sun-splashed field, where two friends have discovered that old friendships can become new again.

What a wonderful conclusion! I love how smoothly you snuck us right back to where we started - only so much wiser now. Such depth now btween Teresa and Methredhel. I too, love the idea of Methie having her own spirit guide, and what a wonderful choice a fox is for her! So much better than a dragon or a slaughterfish or a boar or a cave lion.

This was a wonderful episode on its own merit; however, it was made even more impressive by the larger context in which it fits.

I quite simply loved this whole storyline!


Ok. . . I can't resist: Of course it's a her, silly! We all know that Haute Ecole Rider is a HER (and I'm sure our Veteranary Vixen is a fox as well).
Seriously, for those not blessed with their own Bosmer: Of course wood elves can sense the sex of their own spirit guides!