“You get your usual traveling merchants, a bunch of Imperials looking to improve our roads, bands of misfits, but nothing that particularly stands out”, reported Ednir. “All’s quiet. Whatever Varaena had planned, it’s proved she’s patient. I wonder what for though.”
“Right. Thanks Ed. Look after yourself.” Loreth shook his hand and then made off. At the door, Ednir stopped him.
“Have you actually seen her, by the way?” He asked quietly, scrunching up his scarred nose. “I heard that she hasn’t been sighted since 44.”
“She might be gone, but her militia aren’t. We might have them spread out, but that doesn’t mean they’re giving up. They were all recalled to Alinor in 35 when they realized they couldn’t find anyone on their list, and they were suspected of having a mole among them. Varaena was reeducated, proved innocent and brought back ten years ago, and all of her group were replaced, but still they couldn’t find anyone. We did well. Maybe she’s being suspected as the mole and was recalled again.” Loreth touched his arm. “Don’t worry. I don’t know how long this will last, but it’s possible we can hold out.”
“I don’t know. It’s been eerily quiet. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating them. They’re capable of deceit, and no one knows it like your family does.” Ednir retired to his kitchen, and Loreth showed himself out.
Ed’s words weighed on his mind as Loreth left Vulkwasten and began the journey towards Silvenar. One more check up on a hidden Blade, and then he would be back in Falinesti. He was fifty-two now, and he had seen all of Valenwood as once he had dreamed. For ten years, he and his father helped relocate Blades that were being hunted by the Thalmor. For another ten, he helped keep them safe. It felt good to move around, meet people and help people. It chased storm clouds from his mind. His grandparents were growing weary of battle and subterfuge and paranoia with their old ages. They spent less time abroad, and he regretted he didn’t see them as often as he used to. Borrys and Nendil assumed command in their absence.
As for Meahwen, her work was done. When she finally quit her research, Ardweneth’s dreams resumed. Loreth wondered how the dreams’ return didn’t already drive her mad. He was also surprised that Meahwen had never once turned to Daedric magic to aid in interpreting them, at least as far as he knew. Now, she mostly tried to figure out how to stop them, and Ardweneth and Guren were very glad of that. Ardweneth grew more and more tired as the years went by, and she had somewhat become immune to the effects of Gingerose Tea.
What he wasn’t sure about was if his mother and his aunt would ever learn to accept each other again. Nendil had instantly blamed Meahwen for Varaena’s activity.
As for Loreth, some doom awaited him. Or he awaited it.
The sun was shining bright and hot as Loreth made his way to Falinesti two days later. The heat was likely to make the city stinky and humid. Still, he was looking forward to going home. He was longing for a swim in the ocean when he stumbled on a Nord seated on the patchy floor wiping sweat from his brow.
“Are you alright? Want a drink?” Loreth uncorked his flask that hung on his hip and handed it to him.
“No thanks”, the man puffed. “I was told not to accept any drinks offered to me by a Wood Elf. No offense.”
“None taken. It’s sound advice.” Loreth took a swig of his water bottle, guiltily glad the man had turned him down. “What brings a Nord so far from the cold North?”
The man continued patting his face with a patchwork cloth. He looked young, his nose sharp as his eyes. His dark hair and beard clung to him like moss on a rock. “I am visiting a friend is all. Do you happen to know the way to Falinesti? I think I’ll need a guide when I reach that city.”
“Falinesti happens to be my destination. Come, I’ll take you there.”
The man gratefully took his hand, clammy as it was. Loreth pulled him up. “Thank you. Could I know your name?”
The Nord blinked dumbly for a second, and then smiled at some realisation. “Thank you Loreth. I am Esbern.”
They walked some hours without talking, Esbern several steps behind him. Birds of all kind sang and screeched up above.
“Tell me about this city”, Esbern said after an hour. “It once walked, didn’t it? An entire city built in a walking tree.”
Loreth stooped down and picked up a tree branch to use as a walking stick. “That’s right. It stopped walking in the Third Era. I’m not sure anyone knows why. It’s a smelly, busy city, but I like it all the same.”
“Do you live there?”
Loreth felt like Meahwen’s study in Falinesti and the Whisper Grove were one place, one home. He shrugged. “Yes. It’s alright. I’d prefer the wild, mind you.”
“I hear you”, Esbern laughed. “Do you live with family?”
Loreth considered his words for a moment as he trudged on. “Yes. My aunt. But what about you? Who is your friend? Perhaps I’ve met him.”
“Maybe you have. She’s reclusive, or so I’m told.”
From then on, they realized neither of them wanted to be pestered with questions and so walked the rest of the way in silence.
As Loreth had guessed, the city stank in the heat, and they smelled it before they saw it. Chicken bones plummeted to the forest floor as a sort of welcome for the two. Loreth was almost embarrassed he had called Falinesti home.
“If you like, I can take you to the Platform Ferry. It’s just one gold piece for passage, always has been.”
Esbern was too busy gazing up at the graht-oak to hear him. Loreth was worried someone would unknowingly dump their trash on him, so he took his arm and guided him from the open area, closer to the trunks. They went to the Platform Ferry and Loreth paid for them both. They rode up slowly, the city falling around them. Moss and vines hung from almost everywhere, adding to the city’s already disarrayed look. They arrived at the Western Cross. Loreth was first to get off the ferry.
“Well, good luck around here. Keep your pockets closed, and you should be fine. The Slump has good inns if you’re looking.”
With that, he left Esbern behind looking about both at a loss and in awe. He felt a bit bad about leaving him like that. Loreth weaved his way around market stalls and clambering children. He turned left and made his way up the walkways, always taking left turns. Now and again, he looked behind him. Havel Slump would be bustling with drunkards soon, and he’d left that poor Nord all on his own. Still, he didn’t go back.
Eventually, the walkway connected to a quiet, unsuspecting pod nestled on its own. He unlocked the door and plunged into the dimly lit hallway. He shut and locked the door behind him and bounded upwards, greeting the guards as he went, until he reached Meahwen’s study. The window was wide open and she was fanning herself with thin pages of paper.
“How was your trip?” She popped a bit of caramelized venison into her mouth.
“Interesting. I just want to get to the Grove. It's better shaded.”
She waved lazily at the portal behind her. “Off you go then. Your father is anxious to see you.”
“When is anyone ever not anxious to see me?” Loreth sighed. He kissed his aunt on her brow and was off. As he disappeared, Zalor stepped into the room.
“He is here.”
“Good.” Meahwen finished her dish. “Send him in.”
Zalor motioned the guest to come inside. He appeared quite tired, but in no ways nervous as she assumed he would be. His forehead was beaded with sweat, dark hair sticking to his skin. His beard was probably crawling with insects and made the temperature even more unbearable.
“We meet at last, Esbern. Welcome.” Meahwen stood and did a half bow.
“This must be quite the change from Cyrodiil. It certainly was for me. Do you long for the cold of the North?”
Esbern chuckled, or maybe coughed. “Funny. Your nephew called it the cold North too.”
Meahwen offered him a seat across from her at her desk. It was the cleanest her desk had been for many years. “You have met him, then. What do you think?”
“Nice enough. He was glad to be rid of me though, I’m sure.” He leaned forward. “Varaena was seen in Arenthia. I don’t know what she’s doing there, but they say she sailed up from the Strid River.”
“We’ve been safe enough here, but Borrys is right. It’s time to move.” Meahwen went to her bookshelves and took down a red book. She placed it in front of him on her desk. “But what I have discovered cannot reach our enemy. Who knows what they could do with the foreknowledge of the World-Eater’s coming, or the identity of a last Dragonborn? If anyone should know, though, it’s the Blades.” She tapped the book with a pointed finger. “In here is compiled everything that leads up to the turn of the Wheel, my predictions, my plans for this future Dragonborn.”
“So it isn’t Loreth?”
“I believe it will be one of his descendants. All of my reasoning is recorded in this book. Bring it to Cloud Ruler Temple. Keep it safe, in case anything should happen to us here.”
Esbern regarded the book in front of him, aware of everything that rode on a seemingly ordinary object. “Could you all not come to Cyrodiil? Would it not be safer there than here?”
“If what you say is true about Varaena, then the borders are closely watched. Everyone she’s after are all in Valenwood.”
“They won’t know your faces”, Esbern argued. “She’s never seen any of you before.”
He was right. But when Meahwen brought it up to the rest of her family and everyone in the Grove, all were insistent on staying. Something about refusing to run like a coward while their home was ravaged. Rumour of Thalmor purges had recently started cropping up, though any evidence had not. Leaving behind the hunted Blades was also not an option, and relocating all of them would be difficult and risky. In the end, Meahwen sensed that this honour and courage they spoke of would be their downfall. It seemed a foolish way to end, but they had been fighting for years, and such an end would not be foolish to them at all, but honourable. But what’s honour and glory when you’re dead?
“You’re new, yes? You were just a child in the cradle when this hunt began, and not even born into the world when the commander was Rulindil.” Esbern did not look the least bit intimidated under the elf woman’s older, sad eyes. As she spoke, they seemed to sparkle with a green flame. “You have not seen what they can do, how they can turn your friends into your foes, how they can disguise themselves as someone you can trust, or how they reveal themselves from the shadows, or worse, hidden in plain sight. You arrived here with such ease because they have never seen you before, because you were a child in a cradle when all this began. That is why I am entrusting you with this.”
There was a long pause, and then Esbern spoke, unfazed. “Sounds to me that you also consider me a child, here and now. Spoken like a proper Aldmeri purist. You study your enemy too closely.” He flipped carefully through the red book. He read the title. “Dragonheart. You named the book after her?”
“A dragonheart pumps dragonblood, after all.”
He nodded, impressed. “One day, this book might go down in history. But for now, I’ll make sure it’s kept hidden away until the time is right. But when will that be?”
The years flew by, and all was quiet. The life once they dreamed of finally started happening, but it was not quite what they hoped for. Their eyes still shifted uneasily at every strange shadow or turn around the corner. New friends were rare, and they mostly kept to their circles in the Falinesti and the Whisper Grove. Ardweneth slept peacefully. Meahwen turned to studying Valenwood lore, but also creating another copy of the Dragonheart book, and all the while, they all kept the hunted Blades safe. It was too easy, almost, and for a time, they very nearly forgot their peril. According to Esbern who would go between Cyrodiil and Valenwood, the mystery woman, Varaena, seemed either very patient or dead. Either way, they were all thankful for some respite.
“You’re hardly a child anymore. Do you know that seventy is near the end of a human’s life?” Nendil busied herself grooming the horses. The stables stank with their droppings, but she was practically desensitized to it. “It was time you found a wife and had your own family. Your father and I are not going to be around forever, and by the looks of your grandparents, perhaps they will be leaving us sooner than you think.”
Loreth stroked the mane of his chestnut. “Then I should like to spend as much time with them as possible. If I ever reach their age, I want to still be able to recall their faces.”
Nendil stopped vigorously brushing her black mare. “I’m afraid that time will be short lived. They have spent two hundred and five years in this world and everyday, they look more and more tired of it. Your aunt became aware of that ages ago, and wisely, she spends every second of the day with them. She had a promise to keep.”
It was eerily void of sound in Meahwen’s study. In the summer nights, the crickets would chirp madly. Now, she felt like she actually was in the Void. The night was pitch black, and above all, deafeningly silent. She picked up her finished copy of the Dragonheart. This one would remain with her family, to be passed down the generations. It was bound in thick, blood-red leather with bronze clasps. She went to the first page and read three times the warning she had written to any who would open it. For a brief moment, she considered putting some kind of enchantment on it to keep anyone not of the Calenind line from opening it, but that could require some dangerous form of blood magic.
As she closed the book and placed it on her desk, she noticed the shadow beneath the doorway that watched her.
Previous Part: https://elderscrolls.fandom.com/d/p/3343172654596226592
I was doing the darkdrotherhood quest line and i had to kill hurn well i did but then the carrier gave me a letter from a guy named Prince and he wanted to thank me for killing hurn and wanted to pay me but i can find him theres no quest marker and i couldn't find anything online about this how do i find him or is this just something cut from the game?
I'm on the become etheral dragon shout and on the 3Rd part to it I been looking said it's at the end of this cave I'm at I made it to the end where there's a throne to sit in and a place where the shout should be and it's not letting me get it I'm on the xbox 360 I'm woundering is it a glitch issues I've gotten the other 2 for it .
Hello folks, Jauffre here.
As some of you may or may not be aware, for a while I have been editing a number of our lore articles. The most recent edits include the Dragonguard, Blades, Penitus Oculatus, the Skaal, and Imperials. But I've also worked on the Vigilants of Stendarr, Tiber Wars, Septim Empire, and my biggest contributions are to the Imperial Legion page.
With this work now being largely done, I have kind of lost track of what I should focus on. A number of lore pages are still in real need of attention, be it citations or just events, and I don't know what folks think are in the biggest need.
To get to the purpose of this post; I'd like to know what pages you think are most in need of attention, and if possible, what specific aspect of said article. Some pages can become really large (such as racial or provincial pages), and the more specific the aspect, the easier it is to correct.
So I'm writing this and running it through my friend. But all he doing right now is being a yes man. I want to know if it's really that good or if he just thinks everything I write is awesome.
Thanks in advance anyone who takes the time to read this.