Return of a Fellow Scholar


 * Written from the perspective of Divayth Fyr

My journey home was pleasant. I chose to travel by natural means, not by the wizard's will. It has been many long years since I have laid mine eyes upon the western lands of Tamriel. The ever weary Emperor bid me farewell after a year of service. I do admit my previous disregard and distrust to the politics and leadership of the west, but I have grown to find a care in the blood of this Septim. He is a good and honorable man and has shown me that the Empire is not an oppressive tool of fear and power. I do wish I could have made his aquaintance under less pressing of circumstances, as this ordeal appears to have aged the already old man many years in just a blink of time.

His Lordship offered escort by 2 of his finset Blades to see my safe passage to the borders of east Cyrodil. Two fine, young and extremely loyal and disciplined soldiers they were. Their presence alone could send hairs on end on even the mightiest of wizards. Time spent traveling those few days with these gentlemen was satisfying. They have become good friends in those few short days and I do wish them well in their careers as Arms of the Throne.

Once at the border, they bid me farewell and left me with bread and dried meats. A flask of a very well aged Cyrodilic wine was presented to me as a gift from the both of them to keep me in good spirits for the remainder of my journey. Hearty handshakes were swapped and I continued on.

The King, not knowing very well of the Dunmer traditions and culture, offered one of his finest steeds to me when I began my service in Cyrodil. Had this grand beast been found in Vvardenfel, it may very well have been on a spit above a well tendered firepit. However, having been in the service and presence of the Empire these past couple of years, I have grown to appreciate and respect these beasts which are so foreign to me, other than on a plate with fine herbs. I respectfully accepted this gift and promised a good life for it. This "horse", which I titled Xyldan, has since become more than a tool. Xyldan and I have bonded and I am honored to have such a friend as he. I have known many Dunmer who have befriended guar, and for this, I thought them silly. I now understand this bond and it is far from silly. I may be older than many pines of the north, but it is never too late for an old Dunmer to learn and find sense in that of which he never thought so. So then, Xyldan and I now traveled together west, home.

With the recent troubles sprouting about, I had to keep a watchful eye of my surroundings. It is quite hard to concentrate and keep a meditative thought of a defensive spell ready when you are taking in the beauty of the lands which you have not lain eyes upon in quite some time. As luck would have it, I was granted safe passage to the One True Ebonheart. Ah, I did have .... one, small encounter that you may find a pleasure in. A young masked gentleman thought it a good idea to attempt to rob a traveling old Dunmer, knowing not that the traveling old Dunmer was I. He lept from his perch in a tree, nearly impaling his own self upon his rusted dagger. Upon getting to his feet, he demanded my mount and any coinage I had on me. I admit, this was a sad sight indeed and I actually felt pity for this soul. Alas, I offered him safe passage and my fine silk cloak. He accepted the cloak but did not hold to his word. He still blocked passage and demanded more. Not wishing for bloodshed and still harboring pity for this clearly poor man, I waved my hand and watched as his ancient, rusted armor disintegrated to dust upon the ground where he stood. I then let out an unexpected roar of laughter, for the poor bandit wore not any clothing beneath. He covered himself as well he could and shivered in the chill morning air. My pity grew and I threw a small pouch of coinage to him and a pair of knickers. I do hope that fellow is well and out of the cold air by now.

Where was I.... ah, yes.... arriving at the One True Ebonheart. There is much confusion of the "two" Ebonhearts, of which I shall explain at another time. I found stable for Xyldan and took rest in a small village outside of the great Fort. The hospitality was less than grand, but I imagine the rumour of great trouble looming caused distrust among the peoples of the village. As many of you know, I am not much of a conversationalist, unless it concerns matters of intellectual curiosities. The folk of the tavern that eve seemed quite curious of me and many thought me to be an agent or spy of sorts. A select few attempted audience with me, and I gladly accepted, even though I am not one to speak of weather, fishery, or farm. How I did enjoy "small talk" again. My many years of continuous work has left me a secluded old buffoon. It was wonderful having average folk, knowing not of my identity, speak with me of matters which I knew nothing of. The simplest of topics that eve taught me that there is much in the world that I know not of, yet, it is in front of me at all times. I trully must stop to smell more flowers and watch the ever changing patterns of the grass as the soft winds sift through it.

That night I slept as deep and content as a Nord on a 5 day ale binge. Fully replenished and eager to move on, I chartered passage to Seyda Neen. The waters were as calm as any sailor could wish for. The subtle breeze allowed for a smooth, steady push to the sails. I took great interest in watching the ship hands maintain and work about the vessel. Such hard working folk taking a great pride in their hard work and service. I tipped the entire crew upon arrival in Seyda Neen and bid them a farewell.

Xyldan and I paid a visit to the local outfitter and stocked up on goods for the remainder of our journey. Xyldan seemed uneasy as he glanced over this new land. I am quite sure the worry was fueled by the hungry look in the eyes of my fellow Dunmer. I am home however, and these are my peoples. They know of me and would not dare make a meal utensil visible in the sights of Xyldan, knowing full well, he is my loyal friend.

Passage to Tel Fyr from the western shore of Vvardenfell would be a hard and slow one indeed. I had nearly forgotten how mighty the thunderstorms and sandstorms could be. Had I passed further south, I could have avoided the pesky sandstorms. Ah yes, had I even remembered them. And to make matters worse, the cursed cliffracers do not appear to have dwindled in their numbers with my absence. I do believe that I should find a way of making their existence all but present. Perhaps I shall bring back some mighty dragons to reclaim the skies of Vvardenfell. That would surely be a treat, were that a possibility within in my power. A day of passing and I am greeted by the door of my abode. I spent my first eve at home loving my sister-wives and telling them of my journey. They, in turn, spoke to me of the many travelers whom visited the Tower in hopes of gaining audience with me. Indeed, some things never change. My friends, I am very pleased to be home and hope you found some pleasure in the story of my journey from Cyrodil. In short, and not to bring the mood to a halt, but do know that trouble is indeed coming in the very near future. I urge you to enjoy my story while you may, for the Empire may soon need your services.