I was saddened when Retnarr did not initially escape with Delphine. I figured the guards would torture him for info as soon as they realized his cellmate was missing. Then, lo and behold, Retnarr figured that out all by himself – and taking out a guard to gain time, weapons and a map was a great idea.
Well, the good news is they know where they want to go and generally the way to get there. The bad news is the Thalmor have clearly learned of their escape and are actively searching for them. Nirnroot muck to shield from detection? Worth a try I guess.
Full Version: Of Eagles and Dragons
Yeah, he's a bit stubborn, as Delphine already noted. 
=====================
Chapter XXXIII – Stuck in the Mire
Saying that Linneá and Gwyndala were in uncharted waters would be the understatement of several Tamrielic eras. Nothing in this life, or a previous one, could have prepared either one of them for the situation they had become immersed in: sitting in a chitinous hut with a Snow Elf, three Falmer chieftains, and a Falmer woman whom they assumed was a shaman of some kind. She held a remarkably indescribable staff adorned with dark feathers and even darker onyx while the male chieftains were armed with more traditional swords and axes.
The tribal representatives also either didn’t get the memo from Gelebor regarding their impending arrival or simply couldn’t set aside centuries of instinct in defending themselves against intruders upon their normally deep realms. Initial introductions may have ended in a far bloodier manner had Gwyn not flexed more of her supplemental and hitherto unseen forest magic by causing a wall of vines to erupt from the ground and form a barricade between the two women and the growling onslaught of hatred from the fallen elves.
Gwyn’s heart thumped loudly against her ribs as Gelebor tried to calm the Falmer leaders down before they hacked through the leafy barrier and she and Linneá were forced to defend themselves. Lightning filled her palms but the sight of the younger Nord patiently waiting with a practiced confidence helped ease her nerves.
“You’re not worried, Linn?” she asked while the magick faded from her grasp.
“We have to trust Gelebor knows what he is doing. And the less hostile we appear, the better.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then we leave. I can slow down time with the Thu’m and we’ll recall someplace safe.” Linneá smiled reassuringly at the Breton. “But if it does come to that, we probably ought to have a place in mind. Elysium?”
“Uh, sure.”
“Good. Now then… chin up, sis. You’ll be the one inheriting this mess – best to stand tall and flex that natural aura of regality.”
Gwyn snorted loudly. “Yeah, that’s me alright. Ya know, just because I’m from High Rock doesn’t mean that I’m born from nobility, Linn.”
“I agree, Gwynnie,” she winked. “But whether you intended it or not, the air of confidence and self-reliance you’ve cultivated over the years gives you a measure of command that few can ignore. I’m pretty sure even my brother will do whatever his queen tells him to.”
“He will if he knows what’s good for him.”
Linneá laughed appreciatively. She looked forward to many long years with her growing family, and she knew that Serana and Salihn did as well. Not a day went by that their daughter didn’t ask Serana where her mum and Auntie Gwyn had gone to – and when they would be back. The end felt tantalizingly within Linneá and Gwyn’s grasp, but an instinct they both readily agreed on was that this felt like the beginning of something much more. And now that Cain had discovered Thalmor influence surrounding the disappearance of Delphine, a worrisome picture had begun to paint itself.
Of course, that all depended on whether or not the Falmer thrashing at Gwyn’s impressively dense wall of vines would cease their blood lust. Figuring any additional overtures to peace would help reduce tension, Linneá slid her tanto out of her belt and made sure the chieftains saw her toss it out of the hut and into the snow.
“We’re going to try something different, Gwyn.” Moving forward until she stood front and center, Linneá knelt on one knee with open palms. “Retract the vines, sis.”
“Yeah, no, I’m not getting you killed. We can wait until they calm down.”
Linneá glanced back with a hardened resolve in her eyes. “That wasn’t a suggestion. If you’d prefer it, I can command you to do so. Let’s not forget whose father is High King.”
The intensity she levied at Gwyn caught the Breton off-guard. There were only a few instances in the time they’d known each other that Linneá set aside her easy-going nature, and this was certainly one of them. Gwyn understood in that moment how Cain’s sister had earned the respect she garnered in Solitude, and why those around her relied on Linneá in their times of need. This was a woman fully confident in her abilities who knew exactly what it took to see a goal through to completion.
Gwyn raised her hand and brought it down with a deft pull that dragged the vines back into the ground.
Sword mid-stroke, the foremost of the three Falmer leaders leapt forward and halted the swing of his blade a hair’s breadth from Linneá’s exposed throat. Gwyn held her breath while unseeing eyes regarded them both. The Falmer’s ears twitched and he snuffled at the pair of humans to sus out whether or not they would be a threat to the stunted leaders gathered before them.
Tense seconds stretched on for eternity until, seemingly satisfied, the Wisewoman thumped the aggressor on his back with her staff and issued a guttural hiss. The three Falmer men finally retreated to their initial positions at the back of the hut.
“That was an excellent display of intent, Mrs. Linneá. Masterfully done.”
“Not my first time,” she said. “Thanks, Gelebor. I’ll let you take it from here.”
After a long day of little progress, Linneá and Gwyn sat in their tent huddled around a conjured flame floating perilously above their very flammable linen blankets. Gwyn eagerly warmed her hands over the flickering heat source while Linneá eyed it dubiously.
“I still don’t think that’s a good idea, Gwyn.”
“Too [censored] bad. I’m tired of being cold all the time.”
“What if it spreads?”
“It can’t. The moment my concentration snaps it will dispel.”
Were it anyone else, Linneá might have argued further. But Gwyn’s mastery over magick, especially now that her destruction spells were no longer corrupted, surpassed even Linneá’s own, and her sister surprised her at every turn with the variety of castings in her arsenal.
Still… a little teasing never hurt.
“Fine. Just don’t catch my hair on fire. It’s taken me a while to grow it out.” She twirled the ponytail that fell midway down her back with a cocky grin.
Gwyn flicked her finger out and a small jet of fire shot towards Linneá and vanished in a wisp of smoke just before it got too close. It caught Linneá unawares, and she slid backward with a mildly startled gasp.
“Don’t tease if you can’t take it yourself,” giggled Gwyn.
“That was a bit too close for comfort, Gwynnie. What would you have done if my hair had caught on fire?”
A deep, emerald-green magick flickered to life in Gwyn’s palm and Linneá frowned.
“No messing with time, sis. It’s not natural.”
“Useful, though.” She snuffed out the spell and then dispelled her heat source. “There, I feel much better now. Got anything other than dried meat left in your pack?”
“Um. Dried fruit?”
“No thanks. Wish I’d thought to throw some real food in my storage chest. And some brandy.”
“Oh, I’ve got brandy,” said Linneá. “For when we succeed, that is.”
“You say that like it’s a foregone conclusion, Linn.”
“It has to be.”
Gwyn nodded lamely while Linneá passed her the few strips of cured venison and handful of dried apple slices that served as their supper after a long day. She chewed on the meat mechanically while retreating into her mind where she could converse with the one person she longed to be with again. To be held in the strong embrace of.
Linneá recognized the vacant look in Gwyn’s eyes and decided she would do just the same.
Days continued to roll by with only fractional steps forward accumulating for the royal diplomats of the High King, and by the end of each of those days Gwyn’s deep admiration for Linneá’s patience grew more and more pronounced. They were only allowed to enter the tribal leader’s hut for less than two hours in the evenings, which gave them very little time to discuss what drove the Falmer out of their homes – a subject they very much did not want to recount to Gelebor, despite his desperate attempts to extract that direly important information.
“I thought you would have known already,” admitted Linneá. The three of them were enjoying a lunchtime tea in Darkfall Cave in preparation for another trying session. “What with the Falmer showing up out of the blue.”
“They are very fearful of the entire affair,” replied Gelebor. “I suspect something very grim has happened to those they left behind.”
“Maybe you need to be more direct,” suggested Gwyn. “They listen to you, but I don’t feel like they respect you. From what I can tell, the Betrayed respond well to direct overtures – like the way Linn showed we weren’t a threat. Or how the Wisewoman battered that chief with her staff to back him off. Why not demand more? It would show them that you carry an authority of your own.”
Linneá sipped thoughtfully from her tea and wondered how Gelebor would take that advice. Thus far, he didn’t seem to think very highly of Gwyn and often remarked to her that the diminutive woman’s brashness could interrupt the delicate dance they weaved with the Falmer leaders. She didn’t disagree with Gwyn, but Linneá felt there was a sort of futility in trying to change the ways of someone who’s age approached incomprehensibility. These were Gelebor’s people, and trying to sway thousands and thousands of years of stoic rigidity in another direction might be as monumental a task as the one they already found themselves grappling with.
And the Snow Elf proved her point seconds after Gwyn finished offering her advice.
“Your opinion is noted, Ms. Gwyndala, but I do not see that as a feasible approach.”
“Course you don’t,” she grumbled. She caught an apologetic glance from Linneá and shrugged her shoulders.
Under normal circumstances, Gwyn likely would have snapped by now and unloaded on the poor, unsuspecting soul who would cast her off as an inconsequential part of these delicate proceedings. Another cog in the wheel, as it were. But she understood the importance of what they were doing and was loathe to be the reason Linneá failed where she normally succeeded.
Gwyn excused herself from the tea table Gelebor had set up in his humble abode by the first Wayshrine and went for a stroll around the wide cave, carefully avoiding the frigid pools of water that could not escape the harsh winter of Skyrim even so far underground. When she disappeared around a confluence of stalagmites and stalactites, Linneá chided the Snow Elf in as friendly a manner as she could muster.
“Don’t be so dismissive of my sister, Gelebor. There’s wisdom in her words.”
“I will not insult my kin with hostility,” he countered. “Ms. Gwyndala is too combative to understand the nuances of dealing with the Betrayed. The slightest misstep could cause them to even turn on myself, and then all would be lost.”
“I would argue that all will be lost if we do not try every tool at our disposal,” said Linneá. “You have to admit… we’ve accomplished little. I’m not gonna celebrate them not wanting to murder us for existing as progress, Gelebor. The Falmer need to tell us what they know.”
“And what would they get in return?” he asked. “Further bloodshed when the Nords learn of this enclave? The entrance to the Vale is in a defensible position, but the Betrayed lack the numbers to defend themselves in the open were an assault to reach the frozen lake.”
“It’ll never come to that, Gelebor. You have my word.”
“Forgive me if I don’t take it on this matter. The Nords are famous for their historical atrocities.”
“All I can ask is that you trust me. Serana and I proved our honor years ago and we are not outliers. My father is leading Skyrim into a new future, and soon my brother, and Gwyn, will continue his legacy. A time is coming when we can all be at peace – if only people like you and I can build on what we’ve already accomplished together.”
Before he could respond, Gwyn drifted back to the table with a mischievous smile touching at her lips that Linneá knew all too well. Her sister had a plan, and she suspected it would involve a thorough dressing down of a certain pale elf who had deigned to dismiss someone with a chip on her shoulder.
“This is a waste of [censored] time,” spat Gwyn. She paced to and fro in agitation over the hard packed snow outside of the large Falmer hut they’d spent the better part of week in with little to show for it. “We aren’t getting anywhere, Linn!”
“I’m inclined to agree,” she sighed. “Like you said, they don’t seem to be listening to Gelebor.”
“Yeah, no [censored].”
“No need to get snippy with me, Gwyndala Louvain.”
Gwyn stopped her pacing and stared at Linneá. She’d never heard Linneá use her full name like that and for a the briefest of seconds Gwyn half expected to see Lydia standing there in her place. A cheeky grin replaced the frustration lining her face and it made Linneá’s eyebrow raise questioningly.
“What now?”
“You sounded just like your mother. It was uncanny.”
“Shut up.”
“That’s not a bad thing, Linn. Lydia is a wonderful person and she’s been more of a mother to me in the short time I’ve known her than my real mother ever could’ve hoped to be.” Gwyn wondered what would have garnered that response. She’d never known Linneá to be anything but close to her future mother-in-law, but there was an odd connotation to the way she had said ‘shut up’. Almost like an annoyance. “Is there something I don’t know about? Between you and Lydia I mean.”
“Nothing worth getting into,” said Linneá. “We had a rough patch some years ago, but it made us closer in the end.”
A finality lingered at the end of her statement that told Gwyn it wasn’t the time to dredge up the past. Instead, she focused back on the hut, and her frustration with Gelebor returned. The Snow Elf was still inside, pinching his throat and making guttural noises to no avail. Something had to be done, and Gwyn decided it was time for that something to happen.
“Linn?”
“Gwyn?”
“Do me a favor. Go take a walk for about, oh, five minutes or so.”
“Uh uh. No way. How can you expect me to skip out on a good verbal thrashing by the master?” she grinned deviously. “I’m staying right here.”
The fact that Linneá had already reasoned out where she was going with that didn’t surprise her at all. The more time she spent with Linneá and Serana, the more she realized they were on a very similar wavelength. A mental connection wasn’t even necessary, although Gwyn did find herself wondering sometimes what that would be like between two individuals who loved each other platonically.
That notion could wait. For now, Gwyn had an elf to dress down.
Saying that Linneá and Gwyndala were in uncharted waters would be the understatement of several Tamrielic eras. Nothing in this life, or a previous one, could have prepared either one of them for the situation they had become immersed in: sitting in a chitinous hut with a Snow Elf, three Falmer chieftains, and a Falmer woman whom they assumed was a shaman of some kind. She held a remarkably indescribable staff adorned with dark feathers and even darker onyx while the male chieftains were armed with more traditional swords and axes.
The tribal representatives also either didn’t get the memo from Gelebor regarding their impending arrival or simply couldn’t set aside centuries of instinct in defending themselves against intruders upon their normally deep realms. Initial introductions may have ended in a far bloodier manner had Gwyn not flexed more of her supplemental and hitherto unseen forest magic by causing a wall of vines to erupt from the ground and form a barricade between the two women and the growling onslaught of hatred from the fallen elves.
Gwyn’s heart thumped loudly against her ribs as Gelebor tried to calm the Falmer leaders down before they hacked through the leafy barrier and she and Linneá were forced to defend themselves. Lightning filled her palms but the sight of the younger Nord patiently waiting with a practiced confidence helped ease her nerves.
“You’re not worried, Linn?” she asked while the magick faded from her grasp.
“We have to trust Gelebor knows what he is doing. And the less hostile we appear, the better.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then we leave. I can slow down time with the Thu’m and we’ll recall someplace safe.” Linneá smiled reassuringly at the Breton. “But if it does come to that, we probably ought to have a place in mind. Elysium?”
“Uh, sure.”
“Good. Now then… chin up, sis. You’ll be the one inheriting this mess – best to stand tall and flex that natural aura of regality.”
Gwyn snorted loudly. “Yeah, that’s me alright. Ya know, just because I’m from High Rock doesn’t mean that I’m born from nobility, Linn.”
“I agree, Gwynnie,” she winked. “But whether you intended it or not, the air of confidence and self-reliance you’ve cultivated over the years gives you a measure of command that few can ignore. I’m pretty sure even my brother will do whatever his queen tells him to.”
“He will if he knows what’s good for him.”
Linneá laughed appreciatively. She looked forward to many long years with her growing family, and she knew that Serana and Salihn did as well. Not a day went by that their daughter didn’t ask Serana where her mum and Auntie Gwyn had gone to – and when they would be back. The end felt tantalizingly within Linneá and Gwyn’s grasp, but an instinct they both readily agreed on was that this felt like the beginning of something much more. And now that Cain had discovered Thalmor influence surrounding the disappearance of Delphine, a worrisome picture had begun to paint itself.
Of course, that all depended on whether or not the Falmer thrashing at Gwyn’s impressively dense wall of vines would cease their blood lust. Figuring any additional overtures to peace would help reduce tension, Linneá slid her tanto out of her belt and made sure the chieftains saw her toss it out of the hut and into the snow.
“We’re going to try something different, Gwyn.” Moving forward until she stood front and center, Linneá knelt on one knee with open palms. “Retract the vines, sis.”
“Yeah, no, I’m not getting you killed. We can wait until they calm down.”
Linneá glanced back with a hardened resolve in her eyes. “That wasn’t a suggestion. If you’d prefer it, I can command you to do so. Let’s not forget whose father is High King.”
The intensity she levied at Gwyn caught the Breton off-guard. There were only a few instances in the time they’d known each other that Linneá set aside her easy-going nature, and this was certainly one of them. Gwyn understood in that moment how Cain’s sister had earned the respect she garnered in Solitude, and why those around her relied on Linneá in their times of need. This was a woman fully confident in her abilities who knew exactly what it took to see a goal through to completion.
Gwyn raised her hand and brought it down with a deft pull that dragged the vines back into the ground.
Sword mid-stroke, the foremost of the three Falmer leaders leapt forward and halted the swing of his blade a hair’s breadth from Linneá’s exposed throat. Gwyn held her breath while unseeing eyes regarded them both. The Falmer’s ears twitched and he snuffled at the pair of humans to sus out whether or not they would be a threat to the stunted leaders gathered before them.
Tense seconds stretched on for eternity until, seemingly satisfied, the Wisewoman thumped the aggressor on his back with her staff and issued a guttural hiss. The three Falmer men finally retreated to their initial positions at the back of the hut.
“That was an excellent display of intent, Mrs. Linneá. Masterfully done.”
“Not my first time,” she said. “Thanks, Gelebor. I’ll let you take it from here.”
-----
After a long day of little progress, Linneá and Gwyn sat in their tent huddled around a conjured flame floating perilously above their very flammable linen blankets. Gwyn eagerly warmed her hands over the flickering heat source while Linneá eyed it dubiously.
“I still don’t think that’s a good idea, Gwyn.”
“Too [censored] bad. I’m tired of being cold all the time.”
“What if it spreads?”
“It can’t. The moment my concentration snaps it will dispel.”
Were it anyone else, Linneá might have argued further. But Gwyn’s mastery over magick, especially now that her destruction spells were no longer corrupted, surpassed even Linneá’s own, and her sister surprised her at every turn with the variety of castings in her arsenal.
Still… a little teasing never hurt.
“Fine. Just don’t catch my hair on fire. It’s taken me a while to grow it out.” She twirled the ponytail that fell midway down her back with a cocky grin.
Gwyn flicked her finger out and a small jet of fire shot towards Linneá and vanished in a wisp of smoke just before it got too close. It caught Linneá unawares, and she slid backward with a mildly startled gasp.
“Don’t tease if you can’t take it yourself,” giggled Gwyn.
“That was a bit too close for comfort, Gwynnie. What would you have done if my hair had caught on fire?”
A deep, emerald-green magick flickered to life in Gwyn’s palm and Linneá frowned.
“No messing with time, sis. It’s not natural.”
“Useful, though.” She snuffed out the spell and then dispelled her heat source. “There, I feel much better now. Got anything other than dried meat left in your pack?”
“Um. Dried fruit?”
“No thanks. Wish I’d thought to throw some real food in my storage chest. And some brandy.”
“Oh, I’ve got brandy,” said Linneá. “For when we succeed, that is.”
“You say that like it’s a foregone conclusion, Linn.”
“It has to be.”
Gwyn nodded lamely while Linneá passed her the few strips of cured venison and handful of dried apple slices that served as their supper after a long day. She chewed on the meat mechanically while retreating into her mind where she could converse with the one person she longed to be with again. To be held in the strong embrace of.
Linneá recognized the vacant look in Gwyn’s eyes and decided she would do just the same.
-----
Days continued to roll by with only fractional steps forward accumulating for the royal diplomats of the High King, and by the end of each of those days Gwyn’s deep admiration for Linneá’s patience grew more and more pronounced. They were only allowed to enter the tribal leader’s hut for less than two hours in the evenings, which gave them very little time to discuss what drove the Falmer out of their homes – a subject they very much did not want to recount to Gelebor, despite his desperate attempts to extract that direly important information.
“I thought you would have known already,” admitted Linneá. The three of them were enjoying a lunchtime tea in Darkfall Cave in preparation for another trying session. “What with the Falmer showing up out of the blue.”
“They are very fearful of the entire affair,” replied Gelebor. “I suspect something very grim has happened to those they left behind.”
“Maybe you need to be more direct,” suggested Gwyn. “They listen to you, but I don’t feel like they respect you. From what I can tell, the Betrayed respond well to direct overtures – like the way Linn showed we weren’t a threat. Or how the Wisewoman battered that chief with her staff to back him off. Why not demand more? It would show them that you carry an authority of your own.”
Linneá sipped thoughtfully from her tea and wondered how Gelebor would take that advice. Thus far, he didn’t seem to think very highly of Gwyn and often remarked to her that the diminutive woman’s brashness could interrupt the delicate dance they weaved with the Falmer leaders. She didn’t disagree with Gwyn, but Linneá felt there was a sort of futility in trying to change the ways of someone who’s age approached incomprehensibility. These were Gelebor’s people, and trying to sway thousands and thousands of years of stoic rigidity in another direction might be as monumental a task as the one they already found themselves grappling with.
And the Snow Elf proved her point seconds after Gwyn finished offering her advice.
“Your opinion is noted, Ms. Gwyndala, but I do not see that as a feasible approach.”
“Course you don’t,” she grumbled. She caught an apologetic glance from Linneá and shrugged her shoulders.
Under normal circumstances, Gwyn likely would have snapped by now and unloaded on the poor, unsuspecting soul who would cast her off as an inconsequential part of these delicate proceedings. Another cog in the wheel, as it were. But she understood the importance of what they were doing and was loathe to be the reason Linneá failed where she normally succeeded.
Gwyn excused herself from the tea table Gelebor had set up in his humble abode by the first Wayshrine and went for a stroll around the wide cave, carefully avoiding the frigid pools of water that could not escape the harsh winter of Skyrim even so far underground. When she disappeared around a confluence of stalagmites and stalactites, Linneá chided the Snow Elf in as friendly a manner as she could muster.
“Don’t be so dismissive of my sister, Gelebor. There’s wisdom in her words.”
“I will not insult my kin with hostility,” he countered. “Ms. Gwyndala is too combative to understand the nuances of dealing with the Betrayed. The slightest misstep could cause them to even turn on myself, and then all would be lost.”
“I would argue that all will be lost if we do not try every tool at our disposal,” said Linneá. “You have to admit… we’ve accomplished little. I’m not gonna celebrate them not wanting to murder us for existing as progress, Gelebor. The Falmer need to tell us what they know.”
“And what would they get in return?” he asked. “Further bloodshed when the Nords learn of this enclave? The entrance to the Vale is in a defensible position, but the Betrayed lack the numbers to defend themselves in the open were an assault to reach the frozen lake.”
“It’ll never come to that, Gelebor. You have my word.”
“Forgive me if I don’t take it on this matter. The Nords are famous for their historical atrocities.”
“All I can ask is that you trust me. Serana and I proved our honor years ago and we are not outliers. My father is leading Skyrim into a new future, and soon my brother, and Gwyn, will continue his legacy. A time is coming when we can all be at peace – if only people like you and I can build on what we’ve already accomplished together.”
Before he could respond, Gwyn drifted back to the table with a mischievous smile touching at her lips that Linneá knew all too well. Her sister had a plan, and she suspected it would involve a thorough dressing down of a certain pale elf who had deigned to dismiss someone with a chip on her shoulder.
-----
“This is a waste of [censored] time,” spat Gwyn. She paced to and fro in agitation over the hard packed snow outside of the large Falmer hut they’d spent the better part of week in with little to show for it. “We aren’t getting anywhere, Linn!”
“I’m inclined to agree,” she sighed. “Like you said, they don’t seem to be listening to Gelebor.”
“Yeah, no [censored].”
“No need to get snippy with me, Gwyndala Louvain.”
Gwyn stopped her pacing and stared at Linneá. She’d never heard Linneá use her full name like that and for a the briefest of seconds Gwyn half expected to see Lydia standing there in her place. A cheeky grin replaced the frustration lining her face and it made Linneá’s eyebrow raise questioningly.
“What now?”
“You sounded just like your mother. It was uncanny.”
“Shut up.”
“That’s not a bad thing, Linn. Lydia is a wonderful person and she’s been more of a mother to me in the short time I’ve known her than my real mother ever could’ve hoped to be.” Gwyn wondered what would have garnered that response. She’d never known Linneá to be anything but close to her future mother-in-law, but there was an odd connotation to the way she had said ‘shut up’. Almost like an annoyance. “Is there something I don’t know about? Between you and Lydia I mean.”
“Nothing worth getting into,” said Linneá. “We had a rough patch some years ago, but it made us closer in the end.”
A finality lingered at the end of her statement that told Gwyn it wasn’t the time to dredge up the past. Instead, she focused back on the hut, and her frustration with Gelebor returned. The Snow Elf was still inside, pinching his throat and making guttural noises to no avail. Something had to be done, and Gwyn decided it was time for that something to happen.
“Linn?”
“Gwyn?”
“Do me a favor. Go take a walk for about, oh, five minutes or so.”
“Uh uh. No way. How can you expect me to skip out on a good verbal thrashing by the master?” she grinned deviously. “I’m staying right here.”
The fact that Linneá had already reasoned out where she was going with that didn’t surprise her at all. The more time she spent with Linneá and Serana, the more she realized they were on a very similar wavelength. A mental connection wasn’t even necessary, although Gwyn did find herself wondering sometimes what that would be like between two individuals who loved each other platonically.
That notion could wait. For now, Gwyn had an elf to dress down.
The Falmer aren’t interested in talking. A wonderful combination of magic then olive branch that the ladies displayed – and it worked only so far as halting open warfare.
No progress in learning what happened to the Falmer though, and Gelebor seems rather impotent at influencing them. Since they’re not really getting anywhere and wasting valuable time, I think Gwyn is right that a good dressing down is in order. I expect that Gwyn may point out that whatever befell the Falmer has not gone away and still poses an existential threat to the Falmer – unless they cooperate and seek some assistance.
Regardless, I’m with Linneá in not wanting to miss a good verbal thrashing by the master.
No progress in learning what happened to the Falmer though, and Gelebor seems rather impotent at influencing them. Since they’re not really getting anywhere and wasting valuable time, I think Gwyn is right that a good dressing down is in order. I expect that Gwyn may point out that whatever befell the Falmer has not gone away and still poses an existential threat to the Falmer – unless they cooperate and seek some assistance.
Regardless, I’m with Linneá in not wanting to miss a good verbal thrashing by the master.
I'm glad that Retnarr decided to follow Delphine. Nirnroot muck, cool! Listening for Nirnroot in Blackreach certainly brings back memories.
The Snow Elf was still inside, pinching his throat and making guttural noises to no avail.
What a vivid picture of the Snow Elf communicating with the corrupted descendants of his people. But despite all of the talk, Linneá's action at the start is the only thing that has gotten results. Now it's Gwyn's turn! *gets popcorn*
The Snow Elf was still inside, pinching his throat and making guttural noises to no avail.
What a vivid picture of the Snow Elf communicating with the corrupted descendants of his people. But despite all of the talk, Linneá's action at the start is the only thing that has gotten results. Now it's Gwyn's turn! *gets popcorn*
I must admit I'm nervous about penning that takedown of poor Gelebor. We'll get there eventually though!
Chapter XXXIV – The Wait
Serana splashed a dash of fresh cream into her steaming mug of tea and twirled her spoon idly to incorporate it. Mornings like this one were often too quiet for her liking with Salihn off at school and her wife, sister, and brother off who knows where at the behest of their father. It made for many lonely hours in the Blue Palace, save for her time spent with Lydia when the court quieted down. One of those times happened to be right now, and Serana offered a second mug of tea to her mother-in-law who accepted it gratefully.
“Is it getting any easier, dear?”
“No,” answered Serana tersely. “I’d have snapped long ago if we didn’t have our telepathic connection.” Realizing that came off as a little combative, she offered an apologetic smile and minor platitudes. “I appreciate you keeping me company though, mum. You and Salihn are definitely keeping me sane during all of this.”
“You don’t need to explain yourself, Serana. I can empathize. Do you think they’ll be back soon?”
“Are you asking or is dad asking?”
“Is Kirin here with us right now?” asked Lydia. “No, he is not. You and I are speaking, and no one else.”
Setting her mug down after a sip, Serana blushed slightly in embarrassment. “You’re right; I’m sorry, mum. I don’t know when they’ll be home. Elle is frustrated with the lack of progress, but she is about to unleash Gwyn, so maybe we’ll have an idea today. Whether or not that leads to answers or being chased away by a horde of Falmer remains to be seen.”
Lydia imagined the sight of the fiery Breton taking an elf who was likely a foot or more taller than her soon-to-be daughter to task with a subtle grin. At the same time, she couldn’t help but wonder if that was the wisest course of action in the situation she and Linneá were wrapped up in.
“Elle knows what she is doing, mum,” reassured Serana.
“Was I that obvious?” chuckled Lydia. “And can you blame me for worrying?”
“Not at all. But she wouldn’t go that far unless she knew it was necessary.”
“I know. And I trust the both of them.” Lydia finished her tea and glanced out the window. A sundial in the courtyard below cast a shadow on midday.
“It’s lunch time, Serana. I know you’ve been taking it alone in your library, but I want you to join us today. Brelyna will be there too for a change.”
Serana suspected the invitation leaned slightly more towards a demand than a request and she dared not turn it down. Not that it really pained her to do so – Lydia had long since usurped Valerica as the primary motherly figure in her life, and she loved spending time with her. The lonesome lunches were more the result of trying to keep an open mind (in the literal sense) should Linneá need her for something at a moment’s notice. Their books wouldn’t miss her for an hour.
“Lunch sounds great,” said Serana. “Did I smell the aroma of horker stew wafting around this morning?”
“Indeed. I think it’s supposed to be for dinner, but I’m sure the kitchen can send some out. We can stop by and speak to Chef Altair about it on the way.”
The head chef was more than willing to set a crock of stew aside for Serana with the caveat of the potatoes possibly being undercooked so early in the day. Mother and daughter continued on to their favorite dining room with the former pausing just up the hall at the sight of the door being closed shut.
“Hm. That’s odd. The door is normally wide open. Kirin’s always welcoming of anyone passing by who might want to sit with us.”
“Maybe he’s discussing something privately with Brelyna?”
“Husband doesn’t approve of that outside of sensitive areas. I wonder if –“
Tell mum to unclench, nudged Linneá. Kyne is joining the three of you today.
Gotcha. Thanks, Elle. Love you.
I love you, too.
Lydia had been around enough of these silent conversations to recognize one taking place. She waited patiently for Serana’s eyes to refocus. “Well?”
“Kyne is visiting.”
“Oh. I guess we won’t be dining with Brelyna then!”
She knocked politely on the door before entering and glancing around the room. Kirin sat at the table with a stack of letters, and a large brown hawk was perched on an extinguished candelabra in the corner. It cocked its head to the right and pointed at the door with a fearsome talon. Serana pushed it shut and threw the locking bolt as Kyne resumed her human form and extended her arms invitingly.
“It’s lovely to see you again, my child.” She held Serana close for moment and then studied her face to note the creases near her spectacularly blue eyes. “This has been hard on you, hasn’t it? I sometimes forget just how intertwined you and Linn actually are. Hold still, please.”
Kyne raised a divine finger and traced it gently around Serana’s eyes with a faint golden glow in its wake. When she finished, the creases were gone and her face was smooth in a manner befitting a twenty-eight-year-old young woman.
“There, that’s much better,” she said approvingly.
“I didn’t know you could do that, mum,” said Lydia.
“Let’s keep it our little secret,” winked Kyne. “I’m technically not supposed to, but Serana is far too young and healthy for such blemishes.”
“Won’t they just come back?” said Serana. “Not like I’m done worrying about them.”
“I think Elle will be home sooner than you think,” said Kyne.
Serana had just been easing into a chair at the table when the goddess said that and she nearly missed and hit the hard stone floor instead. If that was true, her wife had been oddly reticent on the matter and would be getting a very stern talking to when lunch was over.
“Um. She will?”
“I think so. Their efforts are finally coming to fruition courtesy of Gwyndala. I’ve been keeping tabs on the from afar and I must admit… she has a powerful set of pipes for such a slight frame.” She noted an eager delight filling Serana’s face and headed her off: “Now, that’s not to say she will be home tomorrow, or the next day, or even next week. Just that progress is being made.”
“That’s encouraging to hear,” interjected Kirin. “If only we knew what the Thalmor have done with Delphine we might have positive news on two fronts.”
He returned to reading his letters at the same time a timid knock on the door announced the arrival of lunch. In a flash, Kyne transformed into a mouse and scurried onto Serana’s lap while Lydia unlocked the door and two palace aids rolled in a cart of food and began placing the heavy winter fare on the table, including a large bowl of stew for Serana. They finished by arranging two urns of hot cider amid the platters of food and excused themselves under a barrage of thank yous from the few present Windborne family members.
“Ah! Cain is headed back for Whiterun,” said Kirin, reading through a hastily written letter. “Seems he has the same opinion of that Black-Briar oaf that we all share,” he added. “No surprise there.”
“I’m sure he’ll be glad to be home again,” said Lydia. “Has it been very quiet at Elysium, Kyne?”
The goddess had just filled her seat again when she rolled her eyes and laughed delicately. “It was rather still for some time, but Cain and Gwyn showed up there unexpectedly last night for reasons I don’t care to discuss.”
“Does that mean it’s Linn’s turn to pop in for a tryst, Serana?” asked Lydia. “Never seems to be one or the other with those two.”
Serana finished chewing a bit of diced horker and grinned mischievously. It pleased her to no end that their own late-night escapades had gone unnoticed by anyone at the palace. However, the guards patrolling below the city gate certainly would have heard a disturbance emanating from the tower overlooking it.
“I know that look,” said Kyne. “You two had your own fun last night, didn’t you?”
“A lady never kisses and tells.”
Snow continued to fall outside of the bedroom window. Serana sat curled up in a chair with another cup of tea watching the flakes flutter down and wondered if it was snowing in the Forgotten Vale, too. She hadn’t heard a peep from Linneá since before lunch, which likely meant that all of her wife’s focus was being directed at dealing with Gelebor and the Falmer chieftains in the western fringes of Skyrim.
Memories of days gone by filled her thoughts, and she began to hum a tune she wrote years ago while occasionally muttering the lyrics aloud.
“Old stone walls…”
Serana remembered the first time she sang that song to her beloved and felt the butterflies dancing in her stomach. No amount of time or distance would dull how strongly they loved each other and how that love grew with every passing moment.
“All alone, sitting in the bay window…”
She paused to blow on her tea and take a timid sip, smiling at how befitting that line was of her current position.
“But then, you were there…”
A gentle knock on the door broke her reverie. “Come in!” she called to the unknown visitor.
Kyne entered the room gracefully and sat on the edge of the bed. “Not interrupting anything, am I?”
“Hm? Oh, no, not at all, mum. Just reminiscing. And practicing, I guess.”
“I heard you singing through the door,” nodded Kyne. “Nearly forgot how lovely a voice you have. Do you still write songs?”
“Sometimes. If I need a distraction. I’ve been working on something for when Elle comes home, but, um, it’s just for us.”
“Hopefully you get to share it with her soon, dear.”
Serana resumed staring out the window. Late afternoon approached, which meant she soon would be heading to the schoolhouse. And another long walk home with her daughter who missed her mother just as much, if not more, than Serana did.
“Me too. It crushes me every time I see Salhin’s crestfallen face when I tell her Elle isn’t home yet.”
================
Chapter XXXIV – The Wait
Serana splashed a dash of fresh cream into her steaming mug of tea and twirled her spoon idly to incorporate it. Mornings like this one were often too quiet for her liking with Salihn off at school and her wife, sister, and brother off who knows where at the behest of their father. It made for many lonely hours in the Blue Palace, save for her time spent with Lydia when the court quieted down. One of those times happened to be right now, and Serana offered a second mug of tea to her mother-in-law who accepted it gratefully.
“Is it getting any easier, dear?”
“No,” answered Serana tersely. “I’d have snapped long ago if we didn’t have our telepathic connection.” Realizing that came off as a little combative, she offered an apologetic smile and minor platitudes. “I appreciate you keeping me company though, mum. You and Salihn are definitely keeping me sane during all of this.”
“You don’t need to explain yourself, Serana. I can empathize. Do you think they’ll be back soon?”
“Are you asking or is dad asking?”
“Is Kirin here with us right now?” asked Lydia. “No, he is not. You and I are speaking, and no one else.”
Setting her mug down after a sip, Serana blushed slightly in embarrassment. “You’re right; I’m sorry, mum. I don’t know when they’ll be home. Elle is frustrated with the lack of progress, but she is about to unleash Gwyn, so maybe we’ll have an idea today. Whether or not that leads to answers or being chased away by a horde of Falmer remains to be seen.”
Lydia imagined the sight of the fiery Breton taking an elf who was likely a foot or more taller than her soon-to-be daughter to task with a subtle grin. At the same time, she couldn’t help but wonder if that was the wisest course of action in the situation she and Linneá were wrapped up in.
“Elle knows what she is doing, mum,” reassured Serana.
“Was I that obvious?” chuckled Lydia. “And can you blame me for worrying?”
“Not at all. But she wouldn’t go that far unless she knew it was necessary.”
“I know. And I trust the both of them.” Lydia finished her tea and glanced out the window. A sundial in the courtyard below cast a shadow on midday.
“It’s lunch time, Serana. I know you’ve been taking it alone in your library, but I want you to join us today. Brelyna will be there too for a change.”
Serana suspected the invitation leaned slightly more towards a demand than a request and she dared not turn it down. Not that it really pained her to do so – Lydia had long since usurped Valerica as the primary motherly figure in her life, and she loved spending time with her. The lonesome lunches were more the result of trying to keep an open mind (in the literal sense) should Linneá need her for something at a moment’s notice. Their books wouldn’t miss her for an hour.
“Lunch sounds great,” said Serana. “Did I smell the aroma of horker stew wafting around this morning?”
“Indeed. I think it’s supposed to be for dinner, but I’m sure the kitchen can send some out. We can stop by and speak to Chef Altair about it on the way.”
The head chef was more than willing to set a crock of stew aside for Serana with the caveat of the potatoes possibly being undercooked so early in the day. Mother and daughter continued on to their favorite dining room with the former pausing just up the hall at the sight of the door being closed shut.
“Hm. That’s odd. The door is normally wide open. Kirin’s always welcoming of anyone passing by who might want to sit with us.”
“Maybe he’s discussing something privately with Brelyna?”
“Husband doesn’t approve of that outside of sensitive areas. I wonder if –“
Tell mum to unclench, nudged Linneá. Kyne is joining the three of you today.
Gotcha. Thanks, Elle. Love you.
I love you, too.
Lydia had been around enough of these silent conversations to recognize one taking place. She waited patiently for Serana’s eyes to refocus. “Well?”
“Kyne is visiting.”
“Oh. I guess we won’t be dining with Brelyna then!”
She knocked politely on the door before entering and glancing around the room. Kirin sat at the table with a stack of letters, and a large brown hawk was perched on an extinguished candelabra in the corner. It cocked its head to the right and pointed at the door with a fearsome talon. Serana pushed it shut and threw the locking bolt as Kyne resumed her human form and extended her arms invitingly.
“It’s lovely to see you again, my child.” She held Serana close for moment and then studied her face to note the creases near her spectacularly blue eyes. “This has been hard on you, hasn’t it? I sometimes forget just how intertwined you and Linn actually are. Hold still, please.”
Kyne raised a divine finger and traced it gently around Serana’s eyes with a faint golden glow in its wake. When she finished, the creases were gone and her face was smooth in a manner befitting a twenty-eight-year-old young woman.
“There, that’s much better,” she said approvingly.
“I didn’t know you could do that, mum,” said Lydia.
“Let’s keep it our little secret,” winked Kyne. “I’m technically not supposed to, but Serana is far too young and healthy for such blemishes.”
“Won’t they just come back?” said Serana. “Not like I’m done worrying about them.”
“I think Elle will be home sooner than you think,” said Kyne.
Serana had just been easing into a chair at the table when the goddess said that and she nearly missed and hit the hard stone floor instead. If that was true, her wife had been oddly reticent on the matter and would be getting a very stern talking to when lunch was over.
“Um. She will?”
“I think so. Their efforts are finally coming to fruition courtesy of Gwyndala. I’ve been keeping tabs on the from afar and I must admit… she has a powerful set of pipes for such a slight frame.” She noted an eager delight filling Serana’s face and headed her off: “Now, that’s not to say she will be home tomorrow, or the next day, or even next week. Just that progress is being made.”
“That’s encouraging to hear,” interjected Kirin. “If only we knew what the Thalmor have done with Delphine we might have positive news on two fronts.”
He returned to reading his letters at the same time a timid knock on the door announced the arrival of lunch. In a flash, Kyne transformed into a mouse and scurried onto Serana’s lap while Lydia unlocked the door and two palace aids rolled in a cart of food and began placing the heavy winter fare on the table, including a large bowl of stew for Serana. They finished by arranging two urns of hot cider amid the platters of food and excused themselves under a barrage of thank yous from the few present Windborne family members.
“Ah! Cain is headed back for Whiterun,” said Kirin, reading through a hastily written letter. “Seems he has the same opinion of that Black-Briar oaf that we all share,” he added. “No surprise there.”
“I’m sure he’ll be glad to be home again,” said Lydia. “Has it been very quiet at Elysium, Kyne?”
The goddess had just filled her seat again when she rolled her eyes and laughed delicately. “It was rather still for some time, but Cain and Gwyn showed up there unexpectedly last night for reasons I don’t care to discuss.”
“Does that mean it’s Linn’s turn to pop in for a tryst, Serana?” asked Lydia. “Never seems to be one or the other with those two.”
Serana finished chewing a bit of diced horker and grinned mischievously. It pleased her to no end that their own late-night escapades had gone unnoticed by anyone at the palace. However, the guards patrolling below the city gate certainly would have heard a disturbance emanating from the tower overlooking it.
“I know that look,” said Kyne. “You two had your own fun last night, didn’t you?”
“A lady never kisses and tells.”
-----
]Snow continued to fall outside of the bedroom window. Serana sat curled up in a chair with another cup of tea watching the flakes flutter down and wondered if it was snowing in the Forgotten Vale, too. She hadn’t heard a peep from Linneá since before lunch, which likely meant that all of her wife’s focus was being directed at dealing with Gelebor and the Falmer chieftains in the western fringes of Skyrim.
Memories of days gone by filled her thoughts, and she began to hum a tune she wrote years ago while occasionally muttering the lyrics aloud.
“Old stone walls…”
Serana remembered the first time she sang that song to her beloved and felt the butterflies dancing in her stomach. No amount of time or distance would dull how strongly they loved each other and how that love grew with every passing moment.
“All alone, sitting in the bay window…”
She paused to blow on her tea and take a timid sip, smiling at how befitting that line was of her current position.
“But then, you were there…”
A gentle knock on the door broke her reverie. “Come in!” she called to the unknown visitor.
Kyne entered the room gracefully and sat on the edge of the bed. “Not interrupting anything, am I?”
“Hm? Oh, no, not at all, mum. Just reminiscing. And practicing, I guess.”
“I heard you singing through the door,” nodded Kyne. “Nearly forgot how lovely a voice you have. Do you still write songs?”
“Sometimes. If I need a distraction. I’ve been working on something for when Elle comes home, but, um, it’s just for us.”
“Hopefully you get to share it with her soon, dear.”
Serana resumed staring out the window. Late afternoon approached, which meant she soon would be heading to the schoolhouse. And another long walk home with her daughter who missed her mother just as much, if not more, than Serana did.
“Me too. It crushes me every time I see Salhin’s crestfallen face when I tell her Elle isn’t home yet.”
A lovely interlude full of family business, interactions and a hint or two of news as everyone waits for Cain to return and for Linneá and Gwyn to hopefully learn more about the Falmer situation.
Nice beauty treatment that Serana got from Kyne!
Nice beauty treatment that Serana got from Kyne!
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