Captain Hammer:I am glad to have you with us on Tandilwen's adventures. Thank you for your kind words!

mALX:Laughter is the best medicine! And I am loving the new possibilities with playing on pc rather than the 360. I prefer the controls for 360, but the pc is so much better.

Rihanae:Carahil has always been one of my favorite NPCs, and she just seemed so fitting as an aunt-figure. And I've always wanted a sister (I only have one brother), like Hasathil and Tandilwen. I've seen many sisters who seem nothing alike, yet have a beautiful relationship, and I love to capture that sort of relationship with my writing. <3



Chapter 2.2--Family Matters

When the tall, fair-haired, tan-skinned Altmer stepped onto the docks in Anvil harbor, he looked out at the crowd of people who were there to greet family and friends arriving with the same ship that he had been on. Soruman sighed heavily; he was glad to be home, yet already eager to leave again. Turning back toward the ship, he waited for his companion, who was coming down the ramp and admiring the city.

“Well, this is Anvil, the gleaming city by the sea,” said Soruman, with a hint of spite in his deep voice. “A fine place to return to, but not for a long stay. At least, that is always how I have felt about it. Perhaps you will find it more to your liking than I have through the years?”

“’Tis a beautiful city, sir,” replied the young Altmer rogue, adjusting his canvas sack of belongings that was slung over his shoulder. “I think I should like it here very much.”

Soruman chuckled and slapped him on the shoulder, saying, “I am hoping so, Eldaril. I am very much hoping so.”

The two Altmeri began walking and it was then that Carahil spotted her brother and waved, calling, “Soruman! Over here!”

Soruman smiled when he saw his sister, and he ran to embrace her, lifting her up and twirling her in the air. “Dearest sister! It is so good to see you again!” He set her back down, and kissed her on the cheek, saying, “Where are my daughters? Have they not come to greet me as well?”

“They were here only a moment ago,” said Carahil, looking around in confusion. “They must have wondered off….”

Just then, she noticed the handsome young Altmer rogue who followed her brother, and Soruman turned to bring the young man forward to introduce them. “Carahil, this is Eldaril. Eldaril--my dearest little sister, Carahil.”

Carahil chuckled and extended her hand, saying, “Don’t let my brother fool you, Eldaril. We are twins, and I was born exactly three and a half minutes before him. It is nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” said Eldaril with a nod, shaking her hand.

“Ah, there they are!” Soruman suddenly said, waving as Tandilwen and Hasathil looked up to see him. Their serious demeanor changed to child-like glee, and the two of them ran to embrace their father. “My beautiful girls,” he said, kissing their cheeks and squeezing them both tightly. “But where is my eldest daughter? Did not Ohtesse come to greet me, as well?”

“Ohtesse left a few months ago, Father,” answered Tandilwen. “She is studying restorative magic at the Arcane University, and afterward she plans to devote herself in service to Mara.”

“Is she now?” he asked, somewhat surprised. “When she mentioned that last time we spoke, I didn’t really believe it would come to pass…. Well…then I guess it will just be us. I’ve got some surprises for all of you! But first—Tandilwen…Hasathil—I want you to meet Eldaril. He will be staying with us for a time.”

“Good to meet you,” said Tandilwen, shaking his hand. “I’m Tandilwen. And this is Hasathil, my younger sister.”

“It is good to meet you both,” said Eldaril, looking at both of them closely. But he seemed to be studying Tandilwen the most.

“Well now,” said Soruman, “why don’t we all go back to the house? No sense in standing around here, getting burned by the sun, now is there?”



After eating with the family, Tandilwen went out onto the veranda and gazed up at the night sky. The twin moons were alight—Masser was waxing and Secunda was full. It was truly a beautiful sight to behold.

Leaning on the balustrade, Tandilwen thought about Maximus and wondered if he was also thinking of her. Don’t be silly, Tandilwen, she told herself. You’re in way deeper than you were supposed to be… She let out a sigh and looked up at the castle, lit up beautifully in the night. “Oh, Maximus, what are we doing to ourselves?”

“What was that?” someone asked from behind her. She spun around to see Eldaril coming toward her, watching her curiously.

“Oh… It was nothing,” she replied with some embarrassment. “I was only thinking out loud.”

“And here I thought I was the only one who did that sometimes,” he responded in somewhat of a tease. Then he cleared his throat and there was an awkward silence. When they both tried to speak at the same time, they stopped again, and then he said, “No, you go ahead…”

She smiled clumsily, and said, “I was going to ask from where do you hail?”

“Oh,” he replied, growing somewhat hesitant. “Well, I was born and raised on Summerset Isle—how original, right? My parents were both mages, but magic has never been of much interest to me, I suppose you could say….”

“Where were you when you met my father?”

“Hammerfell,” he replied simply.

“And what made you decide to come here, to Anvil?”

He cleared his throat again, seemingly growing even more uncomfortable with her line of questioning. “I…ah…wanted a change of scenery, I guess. And your father…well, ah…nevermind. Actually, I think I may retire for the night—it was a long voyage, and I’m really quite exhausted. Perhaps we can talk some more in the morning?”

“Oh, um…okay,” Tandilwen replied, watching him walk back into the house. She suspected Eldaril was hiding something from her, but what could it possibly be…?



Going back inside, Tandilwen found Hasathil sitting by the large bay window in their bedchamber, which faced out toward the rest of the city. She seemed sullen, and Tandilwen wanted to continue their conversation from earlier that day, on the docks.

Sitting down on the sill beside her, Tandilwen reached out to brush her sister’s hair from her face, and asked, “Would you like to talk? You seem troubled.”

Hasathil let out a sigh and turned toward her sister, tears in her hazel eyes. “Oh, I was just thinking about Enilroth, is all…. Now that our father is back, I will not be able to see him as often. Daddy will never approve of me being with him. It’s just not fair. What difference does it make that he is only an apprentice? He cares about me, Tandilwen, and I know he would look out for me.”

“If you married Enilroth, you would have to live at Morvayn’s smithy, Hasathil. Would you really want that?”

“I don’t care, Tandilwen—I would live in a box, if I had to, to be with Enilroth. I love him, and the only thing that matters to me is that he makes me happy-- he makes me feel special.”

“Then maybe you should speak to our father about it,” Tandilwen suggested. “Tell him how you feel, and have Enilroth speak to him, too. If you reasoned with him, he might change his mind….”

“Nothing will change daddy’s mind,” said Hasathil, getting up from the window and wringing her hands desperately. “You know how he is—once his mind is set, nothing can change it. He is as stubborn as an ox and hard as stone. He’ll never accept Enilroth as my husband.”

“Hasathil, you are still so young, anyway. You and Enilroth…you are like children in many ways. Until he gets out on his own and is no longer working as an apprentice, it really would be best for you both to wait, don’t you think? Give him time to learn his trade and prepare for a future with you. There is no reason to rush into these things, Hasathil.”

“You don’t think so?” cried Hasathil. “You haven’t seen daddy speaking with that Heinrich Oaken-Hull, then, have you? You haven’t heard what they’ve said!”

“Hasathil, what are you talking about? What things? What have they said?”

She sat on the side of her bed and slumped her shoulders. Wiping a tear from her eye, she answered, “Last time daddy was home from his travels, Heinrich Oaken-Hull came to speak with him. I overheard part of their conversation, Tandilwen. Heinrich Oaken-Hull was very adamant that he was interested in taking a wife!”

Tandilwen couldn’t help but to laugh. She didn’t mean to, but she found it so amusing and unbelievable. “Oh, Hasathil, what has that to do with any of us? You really are like a child!”

Hasathil’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and she was somewhat offended. “It is because Ohtesse was Heinrich Oaken-Hull’s first choice! That is why she left to become a healer for Mara! She couldn’t bear the thought of being married to that man!”

This was news to her—but not all that unbelievable. “Father tried to make Ohtesse marry Heinrich Oaken-Hull? She never told me that….”

“She didn’t tell me, either. But she didn’t have to, because I had already heard their conversation. And ever since Ohtesse left, I have seen Heinrich Oaken-Hull looking at me and always trying to speak with me. Because Ohtesse has sworn off marriage, he knows he can’t have her, and…well, now I fear he is going to ask Daddy if he can marry me, in her stead!”

Tandilwen couldn’t deny that it made a lot of sense, what with all the clues pointing toward such a conclusion. But she still had some doubts, so she said, “Even if Heinrich Oaken-Hull does ask to marry you, all you have to do is say no. I don’t think our father would force you into such a marriage.”

“Don’t you?” Hasathil cried, desperate and shaking. “Daddy would do anything to keep me and Enilroth apart! But I will never stop loving Enilroth, and I will do whatever it takes to be with him!”

Tandilwen placed her hands on her sister’s shoulders, pulling her into an embrace while casting a spell to calm her. Hasathil wept in Tandilwen’s arms until they both needed to get ready for bed. Hasathil fell asleep quickly, but Tandilwen lied in her bed across their small shared room, consumed by a million thoughts running through her head all at once.

Finally, unable to sleep, she quietly got up and went out onto the balcony. The warm and salty sea air was filled with the scent of primroses, nightshade, juniper, and sagebrush. The sound of waves and the noises from the docks rose to her ears—familiar sounds that brought such a calm to her soul. She could stay out there and listen to the sounds of the harbor all night long, if sleep did not take her. She was happy there, but a part of her was growing restless—she never thought she would find herself dreaming of a life outside of Anvil.

Letting out a sigh, she leaned with her arm dangling off the balustrade, and asked, “Why does my heart feel so suddenly torn, Magdalenya?” She listened, waiting for a reply that did not come. Then she rolled her eyes and shook her head, saying, “Why don’t you ever speak when I ask for you?”

“Have patience, Tandilwen,” an ethereal voice finally responded. “All will be revealed in time.”

“Aren’t you supposed to help me?” Tandilwen asked in annoyance. “What is the point in having some dead Ayleid priestess follow me around, if she can’t tell me what I want to know?”

“You know I cannot tell you things that you are not yet ready to hear,” Magdalenya replied in her usual calm and understanding tone.

Tandilwen sighed and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. “Can’t you tell me something? Like, why do I keep having that strange dream? What is it trying to tell me?”

“All will be revealed in time,” Magdalenya repeated, without a hint of impatience in her otherworldly voice.

She knew there was no point in arguing with the ancient spirit—she would never win. So, instead, she dropped it and fell silent again. She had always had strange dreams growing up, but there was one dream in particular that she’d had so many times, and she knew it had to be important. But Magdalenya was always silent on the subject of that specific dream, though there were times she offered explanations for other dreams….



I’ve been having this strange dream ever since I was a child, and I cannot understand it. Always in this dream, I see the same things over and over again. The sequence of events never changes; I know the dream so well that I can play it over and over again in my mind. But what could it mean?

In my dream, I see myself walking through a dark tunnel, almost like a cave of some sort. I take each step carefully, skulking through the shadows and trying to remain undetected. Then I emerge into some vast underground chamber to see dark-robed figures performing a strange ritual in a pool of waist-deep water. When I approach one of the figures, a woman standing on a high platform above all the others, she turns to me with fury in her eyes, and she speaks these strange words to me in another language. I don’t know the words, but I can understand her meaning—I can hear the hatred in her voice, and I know she wants to kill me. And then, always, I wake up and I’m screaming….

I cannot understand what all of this means, and I have implored Magdalenya so many times for an explanation, but she gives me none. I’ve also asked Carahil, as she is wise in these things, but she has never been able to figure it out, though she has come up with many possible explanations. But none of them seem to make sense. Am I going mad? Dibella, I hope not! I cannot suffer such a fate, and yet I fear that I am cursed….

Wow. What an enticeing read!

The awkward flirting between Tandilwen and Elderil was adorable... and slightly humourous
But what is his secret I wonder?

And Hastahil is having major man troubles; torn between your soulmate and your father. A terrible choice to make. I hope their father is reasonable.

And Tandilwen has a sprit follower? How exiting. However she appers to speak in more riddles than Rihanae; Lissa should count herself lucky!

And what a terrifying dream! I hope Tandilwen discovers its meaning!

Great write

Soruman sighed heavily; he was glad to be home, yet already eager to leave again.

Homecoming can be a complicated bundle of emotions, you captured that well here! I am enjoying Tandilwen’s recollections of her life in Anvil.

I couldn't agree more...

This is the second time you have done a dream sequence that has floored me!!! You seem to step completely from your own writing style in them, adding to the surreal effect !!! The italics serve to accentuate the difference - twice now you have stunned me with that effect !!! Awesome Write !!!

Rihanae: Indeed, she has a spirit guide in the form of an Ayleid priestess who doesn't speak often, and tends to speak more esoterically for poor Tandilwen! Unlike Lissa, however, she doesn't use a guardian stone to speak to her, and she's been hearing Magdalenya all her life. But she still hasn't gotten used to her riddled speech!

Grits: Thank you! It is good to have you here, and I'm pleased to know you are enjoying the story!

Zalphon:Thank you!

mALX:Thank you! I love the surrealism of writing dream sequences, especially because it allows me to change up the style, as you noticed. They are my favorite to write, sometimes, actually.




Chapter 3.1--Trouble in Anvil

“Good morning, Tandilwen,” greeted Oleta, the master trainer of restoration magic, when Tandilwen walked through the door of the Mages Guild hall one morning.

“Good morning, Oleta,” Tandilwen replied, looking around. “Is my aunt around?”

“Actually, I think she is taking the day off, if I’m not mistaken. Traven said something about it to me when I arrived earlier.”

“Oh,” said Tandilwen, a little surprised. Carahil almost never took a day off. Usually, if she did, it meant something was going on…. “Thanks, Oleta!” she called, as she ran out the door, barely catching Oleta’s reply.

“Anytime….”

Carahil spent so much time at the guild hall that Tandilwen often forgot she had a house of her own. But she had to have a house, at least so her own children had a place to stay. Well, Arquen, at least. Orintur was now married and living in Cheydinhal… Tandilwen smiled to herself when she thought of her cousin and his lovely wife, Eilonwy. The two were so in love, and Tandilwen could only hope to find a love such as theirs. However, she was not about to hold her breath for it….

Arquen was Orintur’s twin sister, but the two of them couldn’t have been more different. While Orintur was always kind and courteous, and eager to learn the art of magic, Arquen was often cold and calculating. She was selfish, demanding, and insanely jealous of her brother’s successes within the guild. She had shown promising talent as a child, but all that was overshadowed by some sort of darkness that seemed to reside within her heart.

When Tandilwen arrived at Seaside Manor, Carahil’s beautiful vine-covered house situated outside the city and overlooking the sea and the harbor to the east, she stopped at the door, hesitating to go inside. If Carahil was having trouble with Arquen—usually the case, when she took a day off from her duties at the guild—Tandilwen really didn’t feel like becoming involved. She had tried to like her cousin, but Arquen never made it easy for anyone to get along with her.

Finally building up the courage to go inside, Tandilwen reached out and opened the door. The moment the door was open, she could hear angry voices up the stairs, and things were crashing around. This was not the first time an argument like this had erupted between Arquen and her mother. Arquen had always had violent tendencies.

“Gods protect me,” she whispered as she cautiously began ascending the staircase. At the top of the stairs, she stopped and listened, trying to discern what the argument was about this time….

“You never loved me! You were always too concerned with your work for the guild to pay any attention to me!” Arquen raged from inside the chamber to the left of the stairs. Moments later, something glass smashed against the wall, and then Carahil’s voice rose from further inside, sounding desperate and pleading.

“Arquen, you know that’s not true! I have loved you ever since the day you were born. I don’t understand where all this hatred of yours comes from!”

“It comes from the pit of my soul, Mother,” Arquen said darkly. Tandilwen could barely hear her from outside the chamber, but it sent chills down her spine. “I’ve had it with you and your precious Nine Divines! I hate you and I hate them all!”

“Please,” Carahil said, her voice tense and frightened. Was she crying? “Arquen, I’m begging you—don’t do this to me. I’m your mother….”

“My mother is dead,” Arquen replied. Seconds later, the door swung open and Arquen stood there, glaring at Tandilwen. “What are you doing here? Get out of my way, you filthy half-breed.”

Without a word, Tandilwen moved aside and watched her cousin stalk down the stairs, disappearing out the front door and slamming it behind her. Then she turned and ran into the chamber, where she found her aunt sitting at a table, sobbing into her arms. When she felt Tandilwen’s hand on her back, she lifted her head and looked at her, saying, “I don’t understand why she is doing this to me… Where did I go wrong?”

Tandilwen put her arms around Carahil and knelt down beside her, saying, “You did the best you could. You were a wonderful mother to both of your children. My father has always praised you as a mother, as have many others.”

“Then why does my daughter hate me so?”

“I really can’t say, Aunt Carahil,” Tandilwen replied, feeling for her. “No one understands why Arquen is the way she is….”

“She has never been the same, since her father died,” Carahil replied, after composing herself.

Tandilwen didn’t know much about the man who had fathered her aunt’s children. They hadn’t been married—that much Tandilwen knew for sure. But what little she had gathered from the town gossip was that he had been the first mate in a fine crew of sailors, and he died when their ship went down during a hurricane less than a day away from their scheduled return. Carahil had been devastated by his death, especially being left with two children to raise on her own, while she was still studying the arcane arts in the guild. It slowed her education down, and left a huge burden on her shoulders, but she bore the burden admirably and was left all of her lover’s fortune, including his house to live in.

“Aunt Carahil, you can’t keep blaming yourself for the choices Arquen has made. Look at Orintur—he is so good and such a talented mage. You raised both of them together, and if he turned out good, you must have done something right.”

Carahil sighed and looked out the window toward the sea. “Arquen took her father’s death harder than any of us—they were always so close. The day his ship went down, it was as if he pulled her soul right down with him. And I tried so hard to fill the void that was left when he died, but it was no use. My bright and beautiful daughter was gone; all that was left was a cold and empty shell—a reminder of what she could have been, if only….”

“It was not your fault,” Tandilwen insisted gently. “You did all that you could. She is the only one responsible for how she treats herself and others. You can only do so much for her, Aunt Carahil.”

Carahil smiled faintly, and said, “You sound so much older than you are sometimes. It’s one of the things I’ve always loved about you.”

Tandilwen felt herself blush slightly, and she couldn’t help turning her face down toward the floor. “I only say what my heart tells me to,” she mumbled timidly.

“Then you should always listen to what it has to say,” said Carahil, placing her hand on Tandilwen’s shoulder and looking up into her eyes. “You may not look much like your father, but there is much of him in you that I see. Not only do you have his eyes, but you also have his adventurous spirit and his kind heart.”

Tandilwen didn’t really know what to say. It felt good to be complimented, but she always felt so awkward when people praised her because she didn’t really know how to respond. So, she remained silent and stayed with her aunt for a good part of the day, helping her around the house and trying to ease the stress from her troubles with Arquen.



Arquen was a very troubled woman. She was so filled with anger that the love she once had for her family and the Nine Divines was turned into hatred—a hatred that had rooted itself so deeply in her soul that it was likely she would never be free of it. She was cold and dark, and most of the people in Anvil were uncomfortable around her, to say the least. That’s why she liked to avoid the city when she left her house. And she found her own perfect sanctuary, deep within the bowels of Nirn, in a cave just a little to the north, situated between Anvil and the township of Brina Cross.

In the shrouded darkness of her sanctuary, Arquen took out her fury on the rats, gutting them viciously while they squirmed in agony. Then she poured the warm sanguine liquid into a cracked ceramic goblet, and said, “I curse you, so-called Nine Divines! From the very pit of my soul I hate you all!”

Emptying the contents of the goblet into her mouth, she threw it to the hard stone floor where it smashed at her feet. Glaring into the fire she had made nearby—the only light in the entire cavern—she said to the empty darkness, “The gods play with the hearts of foolish mortals and watch them squirm in misery with sickest delight…. My mother wants me to honor the Nine like another witless fool, giving my all for nothing in return! But I’d sooner slit the throats of those pompous priests than to listen to them bantering about holiness… What do they even know about what is holy? They know nothing! They are nothing! I am done with chapel priests and their lies! I’ll show them what is holy…!”

Grabbing her knife and hiding it within her skirts, Arquen turned and headed out of the cave, a chilling and unholy look on her face….


It was cold and windy that night. A storm had moved in and the waves beat against the shore like an angry torrent. Tandilwen shivered and walked away from the window, pulling her shawl up over her shoulders and sighing. So much for sitting out on the balcony, admiring the moonlight….

Hasathil was sitting at the writing desk the two of them shared, scribbling furiously in her diary and lost in her own world. Tandilwen smiled a little, when thinking how in love her sister was with Morvayn’s apprentice. They would make the perfect couple, she mused. But then her smile faded when she thought about their father, who was still very set against their match. Hasathil was right—he would never allow it.

Thinking of forbidden romances naturally led Tandilwen to thinking about Maximus, and as she sat on her bed she let out a sigh. Maximus would be getting married in less than a month, and that would mean the end of their romance permanently. She had known it from the start, but like a fool in love, she let herself fall. But who could blame her? Maximus was charming, gorgeous and…nearly perfect….

“Tandilwen?” Hasathil asked suddenly, bringing Tandilwen out of her thoughts. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, why do you ask?”

Hasathil chuckled a little, and said, “You just keep sighing, and you look so…pensive…” She stopped to gasp then, and said, “By the Nine, Tandilwen! You’re in love, aren’t you?”

“Huh?” Tandilwen asked in confusion. Then she felt her face grow hot with the realization that she was, in fact, in love with Maximus. But there was no way she could tell anyone other than Clesa. Her best friend was the only person she would trust with that secret—and the only person who wouldn’t tell her she was wrong. So, she shook her head, and answered, “Me? In love? Hasathil, I think that wine you had with supper has clouded your mind.”

“If you say so,” Hasathil replied, closing her diary and deciding it was time to get ready for bed. “Being in love isn’t all that bad, you know. There’s nothing wrong with losing control once in awhile.”

Tandilwen didn’t reply. She knew plenty about losing control that was for sure. Climbing into bed, she looked at the window and watched the water slide down the glass until she drifted off to sleep…


As I approached the platform through the pool of warm water, I kept my gaze fixed on the robed figure standing at the top. The woman stopped performing her ritual and turned to me with her cold, hate-filled eyes. “Nin gweriannech,” the woman said in a sneering voice, her eyes reflecting the fire of a nearby torch and sending chills down my spine…

Tandilwen jumped awake in her bed, relieved to find it was only that dream again. Her forehead was covered in tiny beads of sweat, but the air was cold. It was still storming and it was night, but she could hear the bells of the cathedral ringing loudly, and some people were shouting out in the streets. Their voices were muffled by the thunder and heavy rain, so Tandilwen couldn’t make out what they were saying, but she knew something was wrong.

Hasathil was already out of her bed, wrapping a robe around her body and going to the window, saying, “What do you suppose is wrong? Do you think a ship struck some rocks coming into the harbor?”

“It’s possible,” Tandilwen replied, still trying to shake off her dream. “We should go downstairs and see if Father knows what is wrong.”

Hasathil nodded and followed her sister out the door, where they bumped into Eldaril just as he was emerging from his chamber. “Oh, pardon me, ladies,” he said, looking up and down Tandilwen’s tall, willowy figure, which was accentuated by the pale blue and white robe she was wearing tightly tied around her slender waist.

She felt her cheeks flush, and nodded slightly to him before hurrying down the stairs. She was embarrassed, and had figured it out by now that her father was trying to set Eldaril up with her, but she was too eager to find out what was going on to allow herself to dwell on it presently.

Downstairs in the parlor, their Khajiiti cook was standing by the window, peering out into the dark, stormy night. She turned when she heard them all enter, her tail flicking nervously.

“Kishari, what’s happening?” asked Tandilwen, as they went to stand by the window.

“I do not know, Miss Tandilwen,” said Kishari, a worried look on her cat-like face.

“Is our father here?” asked Hasathil with concern.

“Master Soruman went out to see what the trouble is,” the aging Khajiiti replied. “He told this one not to let the young ladies leave the house.”

“Of course he did,” Tandilwen replied, rolling her eyes a little. She was never allowed to have any fun….

At that moment, Soruman came back inside, drenched with rain. He bolted the door and turned to them, saying, “There was a murder just outside the cathedral. The guards were not quick enough to react and whoever was responsible got away. They ran in the direction of the old Benirus Manor, and the guard is searching the property for the murderer.”

“But that’s only right next door!” Hasathil exclaimed fearfully. “What if they come here?”

“Go into Kishari’s quarters. Lock the door and don’t come out until I come to get you. Eldaril, I want you to come with me.”

Kishari began leading the two girls toward the basement door, but Soruman stopped Tandilwen, handing her a silver dagger in a crimson leather sheath—it was a family heirloom that was usually on display above the fireplace. Tandilwen hadn’t noticed it was gone until her father was placing it in her hands.

“Go,” he said without an explanation. “Eldaril and I will search the house from top to bottom to be sure that it is safe.”

Tandilwen knew why he gave her the dagger, and she nodded before turning and following her sister and Kishari down to the cellar, where they would wait.



Half an hour went by before Soruman and Eldaril came to get them, and Tandilwen spent that time sitting in a corner of the basement with a book in her lap, while Hasathil paced nervously nearby. Kishari snacked on some dried biscuits she kept near her bed; but all three of them jumped to attention when they heard the basement door being unlocked.

As the two tan-skinned Altmeri came down the stairs, Hasathil ran to them, clinging to her father, and asking, “Oh, is it safe? What is happening?”

“All is well here,” Soruman answered, kissing his smallest daughter on the top of her head. Placing his arm around her, he looked at the other two, and said, “We should all return to bed for the night. We will discuss more about this in the morning.”

Tandilwen followed her sister back up to their chamber, but she wondered why her father wasn’t talking about it right away. Who was murdered? And would the murderer be caught?

Though I haven't been commenting on this story much, I've been reading it.

On the surface it looks much like another romance. But with your introduction of Arquen things just took a darker turn. I'm left wondering if the hostile priestess of Tandilwe's dream is Arquen as she is destined to become. I'll wait and see if that's the case.

I look forward to seeing what happens next.

Eventually managed to read this!

WOW! what an exciting chapter! The introduction of Arquen was very well done. Arquen has always been by favorite NPC of the DB questline and it was so exciting to see her in your story!

I also love how you showed us exactly who the murderer was whilst the characters have no idea, it's like you alamost want to shout "TANDILWEN! IT WAS HER!" haha.

I love your very brief introduction to Oleta as a guild member, and i look forward to seeing if any of her children make an appearance

good write

Seaside Manor sounds lovely! Apart from the violent argument, of course. Tandilwen and Hasathil tucked in their room during a storm made a cozy scene.

Who was murdered? And would the murderer be caught?

I wonder, too!

haute ecole rider: Yes, Tandilwen's story will have romance in it, but it is much less of a romance than Memoirs is... We'll find out who the robed woman from her dream is eventually, but the answer to that mystery is still a long way off. Glad to know you're reading.

Rihanae:Since it wasn't quite the right time to introduce Lissa, I decided to make it be Oleta who greeted Tandi when she arrived at the guild.

And I've always been intrigued by Arquen, so I thought it a good way to add some chaos and mystery to an otherwise regular every day existence in Anvil. And it also gives Arquen a history, whereas in the game, she just appears suddenly, no explanation of where she is from or anything--which makes it perfect for having the freedom to give them a history!

Grits:I'm actually working on a mod for Seaside Manor. It's not going to be exactly as I had envisioned it, but it will be beautiful none-the-less.



Chapter 3.2

The city of Anvil was all abuzz the next morning, as everyone was talking about the murder. As Tandilwen and Hasathil walked to the Mages Guild to help their aunt with some tasks, they overheard bits and pieces of information from other civilians and guards. But they still were not able to glean from it anymore clues than what their father had told them about it at breakfast.

Inside the guild hall, Hannibal Traven was anxiously studying some of his notes, and he barely glanced up at them when they came in. “Oh, Tandilwen…Hasathil… Carahil informed me that you would be coming. She is upstairs in the library, waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” Tandilwen replied with a nod, beckoning for her little sister to follow her.

“Certainly,” Traven mumbled, waving his hand while returning to his notes. Just like Carahil, he was always at work and studying hard! The two really made a suitable pair…

The library on the second floor was crammed with bookshelves along every inch of wall space, and each shelf was loaded top to bottom with books and scrolls dealing with arcane knowledge and the history of the Mages Guild in Tamriel. Carahil was currently standing before one of the shelves, carefully going through the various scrolls, throwing out the old and outdated ones to be replaced with the newest editions. Three crates of newly printed books and scrolls were stacked in a corner behind the table, and Tandilwen nearly groaned aloud, thinking about how much work was left to be done.

Hearing them come in, Carahil stopped and turned to look at them, smiling solemnly, and saying, “I am pleased that you were both willing to come here today and help with this. Come, there is much work to be done.”

As the three of them jumped straight to work, Hasathil could not help but ask, “Aunt Carahil, have you heard anything new about the murder last night? Have they come any closer to finding out who the killer is?”

“Unfortunately, Hasathil,” Carahil replied, while scanning an old scroll, “I know only about as much as you. The city watchman I spoke to this morning told me that it appears to be a dispute that went terribly wrong, so there is no need for the general population to worry.”

“But you do not believe him,” Tandilwen spoke up, detecting a hint of skepticism in Carahil’s voice.

“No, I do not,” she replied coolly. “That is just a ploy they are maneuvering to allay any public concern on the matter. Since the killer is as yet unaccounted for, the city watch is merely trying to prevent widespread panic. I would advise you both to remain cautious and never venture out alone while the killer remains on the loose.”

“Hey, you all!” a friendly voice piped up, as Lissa Cristenn and her cousin, Clesa came through the door.

“Oh, hello, Lissa,” said Carahil, offering a friendly smile and a nod in her direction. “I assume you are here because your mother asked you to help file the new scrolls?”

“Well, it’s more like she told me to help,” Lissa replied. “I ran into Clesa along the way, and she offered to join me.”

“The more the better,” said Carahil. “There is much to be done.”

“So, what were you talking about before we got here?” asked Lissa. “You all look so grim and serious!”

“We were talking about the murder outside the cathedral last night,” Hasathil replied, her voice unsteady.

“Oh, you mean what happened to Ulfgar Fog-Eye’s daughter?” Lissa inquired, her voice lowering somewhat. “It’s sad, isn’t it? She was always so kind, helping the beggars and stuff.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment, and then Carahil spoke. “Poor Ulfgar… he’s had so much tragedy in such a short amount of time—first with his wife drowning, and now this… I’m not sure he’ll ever recover. I stopped by the lighthouse on my way to town this morning, to offer my condolences and give him a basket of baked goods. He looked so miserable. Now all he has left is that lighthouse to look after, and nothing more. It’s a shame to see such a brilliant man lose so much--all in one year, no less.”

“I heard it was some kind of argument that led to the murder,” said Clesa. “But I find it hard to believe, because I just can’t see anyone arguing with Linnea. She was always so easy-going and gentle-natured—she never argued with anyone about anything.”

“It had to have been random,” said Tandilwen. “Which means anyone in Anvil could be in danger of being the killer’s next victim.”

“Oh, I hope they catch him soon,” said Hasathil, trembling a little. “This is all so frightening!”

“Ha, I’m not afraid!” said Lissa. “My dad will take care of that murderer, if he ever comes near my family. No one messes with the Cristenns and their kin!”

“Girls, girls,” said Carahil, keeping her voice as calm and steady as always. “That is enough talk of murderers and killing. There is enough darkness in this world, without dwelling on it every hour of the day. For now we have work to do. Let us remain focused on that for the time being.”

All of them nodded and went back to sorting through scrolls, whispering and talking quietly among themselves while doing so.



That evening, Tandilwen sat out on the balcony outside her bedchamber, wishing she could go for a walk along the beach and admire the light of Masser and Secunda on the water. But with a murderer on the loose, her father insisted everyone remain indoors after dark. The twin moons were both waning, two glowing crescents in the velvet night sky.

When the wind blew, rustling the leaves on trees and scattered across the ground, Tandilwen thought she heard a faint voice speaking to her from within the warm sea breeze. Closing her eyes, she paused to listen, and was swept away to a time that seemed so long ago….

“Tandilwen… Tandilwen, come quickly! Look, do you see him?”

The small elven child hurried over toward her mother, careful not to trip on her own feet, and climbed up into a chair to peer out the window. Her mother leaned over, her soft raven hair tickling Tandilwen’s cheek. Feeling secure, the child leaned back on her mother’s shoulder and watched out the window as an exotic looking Khajiiti strolled through the Elven Gardens District of the Imperial City, dressed in fine silken robes of deep ebony and glittering gold. Tandilwen had never been left so in awe until that moment, catching a glimpse of an Elseweyrian prince who had come to Cyrodiil to meet with Tamriel’s emperor.

“Isn’t he amazing?” her mother asked, squeezing her close and leaning her chin on the top of Tandilwen’s head. “I have wanted to see Elseweyr ever since I came here with your father. Some day, when you are all grown, I will go there, I hope.”

Tandilwen looked up at her mother, sensing the yearning in her voice. She wanted to go out and see the world, seek new adventures, like Soruman did. But instead she had chosen to stay at home to raise Tandilwen and her siblings. It was where she belonged, she always said. But Tandilwen could see, better than any of her siblings, that their mother was miserable being confined in the stuffy, crowded Imperial City, while her husband was out exploring the world.

“Mama,” Tandilwen said, “when you go to Elseweyr, will you take me with you?”

Her mother smiled warmly and pulled her into an embrace, planting a kiss on her forehead, and saying, “Of course I will take you, if you still want to go. We can explore Tamriel together, if you’d like. We’ll have scores of adventures. And perhaps someday I will even take you to see the place where I was born, and you can meet your grandmother and all the rest of my family….”

“Where were you born, Mama?” Tandilwen asked.

Her mother’s smile faded, and a look of sorrow crossed her face as she turned to look at the fire in the hearth. “Somewhere far, far away from here, and yet very near….”

Tandilwen was puzzled by her mother’s reply, and it only led to more questioning from the young girl. “How can a place be far away and near at the same time?”

“Perhaps one day, when you are older, I will tell you more about where I am from. But for now, your father thinks it best that you think only of the here and now.”

“But why?”

“You will understand when you are older,” her mother said with a sigh, taking her hand and helping her down from the window. “Come on. Let’s go down to the cellar and practice combat. You’re the toughest seven year old I know, and you’re going to knock the stockings off all the other children in town.”

Tandilwen smiled excitedly and began following her mother downstairs, eager to follow in her mother’s footsteps and become a skilled warrior. Of course, being only a small child, she was a long way off from achieving the rank of warrior…

Tandilwen sighed as the memory faded, and she leaned on the railing, looking off toward the sea. Her mother never got to go to Elseweyr, and it was one of her biggest dreams. Her father had gone there several times, and Tandilwen had hoped that when she came of age, he would allow her to join him. But he was very adamant that he wanted her to stay put in Cyrodiil and never set foot outside Anvil.

Ever since the family moved to Anvil, after her mother died, Tandilwen hadn’t gone any further from Anvil that the township of Brina Cross. Letting out another sigh, she wondered if she would ever get to see the rest of the world. Of course, it didn’t help that she hadn’t a clue how to actually fight. She barely remembered any of the things her mother had taught her, and Soruman was not very keen on her learning through other means, either.

“I’ll be trapped in this city forever,” she sighed to herself.

“One is only trapped if he settles never to be free,” Magdalenya said, her voice seeming to come through the ages.

Tandilwen sat up, realizing her Ayleid spirit guide was still there, as always, watching her and ready to offer advice whenever needed. “Magdalenya, do you think my father wants me to marry Eldaril?”

“It matters not what your father wants,” she responded, “but only what you desire. Create your own destiny, Tandilwen. Carve your own path. Let no man guide you.”

“No man,” Tandilwen said with a smirk. “But an ancient spirit is different, I suppose?”

Her joke seemed to fall into thin air, and she remembered that she couldn’t see Magdalenya, and even if she had a sense of humor—do spirits have a sense of humor?—she wasn’t very likely to express it.

“Magdalenya, does one make their own path, or is it already decided for us the moment we are born?”

“Nothing is set in stone,” Magdalenya replied simply. “Every choice you make has consequences.”

“What happens if I make the wrong choice?”

“There is no wrong choice—just a different path.”

“But it’s wrong to commit murder. You can’t say that killing someone is just a different path.”

“Each person takes a path that is meant to be taken.”

“But doesn’t that mean that our path is already decided for us?” Tandilwen asked in confusion.

“Some things are decided, but there are unlimited possibilities. You have choices to make, but ultimately the outcome will be the same.”

“So, the outcome is already decided?”

“Everything that happens has a purpose. Where you end up is where you are meant to be. It is not the destination that is important, Tandilwen, but the journey. Choose each step wisely.”

Tandilwen let out another sigh and looked up at the sky again. If only the answers to her many questions were more clear. But then, that would be too easy, she thought with a smirk, heading back into the house. And Magdalenya seems to abhor making things easy…

This post has been edited by Lady Syl: Jun 15 2011, 09:08 PM

Lissa, how fun! I love how you captured her way of speaking. Magdalenya had a lot to say, without directly replying to anything. I guess that’s why she’s a sprit guide, not a spirit question answerer.

Typical Lissa, alway's intruding at the wrong time. At least her heart is in the right place

I felt quite sad whilst reading the memory of Tandi's mother. it is so sad that the never got to fulfill her dream; but hopefully tandi will fulfill it for her one day.

Magdelenya is very confusing; i understand how Tandi feels! haha.

And with a name like that Lissa should count herself lucky that 'Rihanae' is easy to say; you know how bad she is with names that are too long

great write

I'm not entirely caught up here but just popping in to let you know I've been reading and enjoying Tandilwen's story.

Grits:Yes, Lissa and Tandilwen are having their stories crossed! I'm glad I managed to capture Lissa's personality correctly. And yes, Tandilwen sometimes wonders what the point is in having an Ayleid spirit follow her around just to speak to her in riddles...lol.

Rihanae:Tandilwen's mother is a character who is actually very very important to the story, and we will be seeing more of Tandi's memories of her in the future.

Yay! I'm glad Lissa's scene meets your seal of approval! Great minds think alike!

King Coin:Read at your own pace (and risk...). I'm far from keeping up with anyone else's stories, either, so I definitely understand. It's good to know you are reading and enjoying it though.



Chapter 4.1--Child of Sithis

The air of fear that surrounded Anvil after the murder of Ulfgar Fog-Eye’s daughter was stifling. Neighbours that were once warm and friendly now regarded one another with suspicion and uncertainty. No one felt safe, keeping their doors and windows locked up tight, be it night or day. Only the brave and dutiful dared to venture out without a companion by their side to keep them safe.

Soruman intended to keep his daughters chaperoned at all times, often insisting Eldaril go with them any time either one or both of them left the house. Hasathil was grateful to have a strong man protecting them, but Tandilwen was starting to resent it—especially as, more and more, it became clear that her father was trying to set her up with Eldaril.

It’s not that she didn’t like Eldaril. He seemed nice enough—he opened doors for her, pulled out her chair, and one afternoon, while accompanying her to her aunt’s house on the western hill overlooking the sea, he even picked some beautiful yellow flowers for her—he was a complete gentleman.

There was much to like about Eldaril. The only problem was Tandilwen was not and knew she would never be in love with him. And the more they talked, the more apparent it became that he was more interested in settling down in Anvil, while she was craving freedom and adventure.

One afternoon, they stopped by the rune stones that were less than a ten minute walk from Seaside Manor, and Eldaril gazed up at the massive stones that were set up to form a circle around the largest stone, in the center. The center stone had words engraved on its face in an ancient language, and looking at the words gave one the impression that there was something magical about them. They seemed almost to glow, pink during the day, but red after night fell.

“Amazing, aren’t they?” Eldaril asked, looking up at the ancient monolith in the center. “How ancient civilizations could have assembled such massive stones in this way all over Tamriel is truly a wonder, is it not?”

“The secrets of the ancients are perhaps something we may never understand,” she replied, to which he chuckled. So she asked, “Why do you laugh?”

“It’s nothing,” he said. “I was just thinking how wonderful it is here—in Anvil, I mean.”

Tandilwen sat down on a stone which was sunken down into the dirt and sighed. “It is wonderful here, I suppose…”

Gazing out at the sea, Eldaril continued, as if he hadn’t even heard her reply. “I’ve been travelling for so many years, seeing the world, but nowhere have I felt more at home than where I am now.”

“Even with the possibility of a murderer running around?”

“Well, I will admit that the current situation is rather quite unnerving,” he responded, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “But I am well aware that this is not something normal for this city. I have been to many places where murders happened nearly every day. But Anvil is such a fine town, and the people here are friendly and inviting. I think I should like to settle down here, perhaps spend the rest of my life in this jewel of a city.”

“But…won’t you miss all your adventures?” Tandilwen inquired.

“Well, I suppose that a part of me will always miss adventuring. But I am eager to find a place for myself, where I can have a home, and a family…” Here he glanced at Tandilwen. She felt her cheeks flush and turned away, hoping he did not see her embarrassment.

There was an awkward silence, until finally Tandilwen rose once again and started walking toward the road to Carahil’s house, saying, “We should continue on. My aunt is expecting me promptly at three.”

Eldaril sighed and hurried to follow her, and she noticed him glancing at her from time to time out of the corner of her eye. But she kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, not daring to look at him even for a moment. The last thing she wanted to do was lead him on.



Even with a murderer on the loose, Tandilwen and Maximus were still determined to meet with each other in the smuggler’s cave below the castle. It was much harder to do, of course, but they still managed.

As they lay together by the light of a torch, Maximus gently caressing her body, they remained quiet and thoughtful, until she finally spoke. “Do you think the murderer will be caught? I just want everything to go back to normal….”

He stopped caressing her and thought about it for a moment. Then he let out a sigh, and sat up. “I think the murderer will be caught; but nothing will be as it was before, Tandilwen. In less than a fortnight…everything will be different….”

She had forgotten for a moment that the wedding was fast approaching, and her heart sank. In less than two weeks, Maximus would be a married man. He was too good to be unfaithful to his wife, and Tandilwen would never ask him to be. She sat up, tucking her hair behind her pointed ear, and wrapping her arms around her legs. She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t let her emotions get the best of her and betray her true feelings. If he knew how she felt about him, he might be tempted not to do his duty. She could never ask that of him, and she didn’t want him to break his mother’s heart.

“Tandilwen,” he said, placing his hand upon her bare shoulder and kissing her there. He moved some loose hair away from her face and took her cheek so he could look into her eyes. “If…if things were different…if my mother was not the Countess of Anvil….”

“Don’t,” she said, shaking her head and turning her face away. “Don’t say it, Maximus. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be….”

He sighed again and she could see he was fighting within himself—just as she was. She watched him for a moment, suddenly realizing that he was also in love with her. Part of her wished she didn’t know.

When he looked at her again, and their eyes met, they were suddenly overcome with emotion and they began kissing each other passionately, letting go once again. It was very likely the last time they could be together.



Arriving home one evening, just as the sun was setting over the sea, Carahil let out a sigh and stopped to enjoy the view—one of the only pleasures she allowed herself these days. That was one of the best things she liked about the location of the beautiful manor Volcar had left to her when he went down with his ship. The sounds of the sea brought such peace to Carahil’s soul, and she inhaled the salty fresh air before opening the door to Seaside Manor.

Expecting to be greeted by the usual atmosphere of her comfortable home, Carahil was startled to step in the front door, finding the air rather sinister and unsettling. Something was not right, and it made her hair stand on end as chills rippled through her body. It was as if there was an evil presence lurking there, and she scanned the main room, continuing inside with added caution.

Carahil walked through the house, feeling the presence growing stronger as she neared the stairs. Stopping at the bottom of the staircase, she said a quick prayer and started up the stairs, ready to cast a destructive spell if necessary. On the second floor, she felt the presence at its strongest when standing outside the door to her daughter’s chamber. She feared for what she might find when she opened that door, but that was not going to stop her.

Casting a spell to unlock the door—Arquen almost always kept her door locked, regardless of whether she was inside or not—Carahil reached for the doorknob and twisted it carefully. Looking through the cracked door to see if it was safe, she saw Arquen kneeling on the floor, turned away from the door and surrounded by candles. The corpse of a hen lay nearby, its blood drained completely from its body, and Carahil gasped in horror, bursting into the room and interrupting her daughter’s dark ritual.

“By the Nine Divines, Arquen, what are you doing!?”

Arquen whipped around and rose to her feet, glaring at her with unnatural looking eyes. “What are you doing in my room? You do not belong here! Get out!”

“Arquen, this is unacceptable! I will not tolerate this sort of thing in my house!”

“What’s the matter, Mother? Does it unsettle you? Does it strike fear into your heart?”

“Stop this, Arquen, you’re scaring me! What has gotten into you?”

A dark smile crossed Arquen’s lips, and she looked at her mother, saying, “The Night Mother has called me to be one of her children. I forsake you!”

Carahil stood there in shock as her daughter pushed past her. She was speechless and her heart broke with the realization that Arquen—her own daughter—was the murderer everyone was looking for. “By the gods!” Carahil cried suddenly, turning to chase after her daughter.

Arquen was climbing upon her black mare when Carahil came out of the house, hoping to stop her. “Arquen, wait!”

“Don’t try to stop me, Mother. I would sooner die than spend the rest of my life in a prison cell.”

“Please, tell me you didn’t kill that girl, Arquen,” Carahil said, reaching out toward her daughter with tears in her eyes. “Tell me that it’s not true, and I’ll believe you.”

Arquen looked down at her coldly, and smiled. “But then I would be lying, Mother. It was I who slit that pathetic Nord’s throat. It was I who spilled her thick red blood all over the pavement outside your precious cathedral. And I enjoyed every moment of it. I only wish I could have savored the moment her soul went to Sithis longer.”

Carahil closed her eyes, cut to the core by her daughter’s cold confession. “Then I have no choice, Arquen. I must perform my duty, no matter what the consequences.”

With the speed of a highly skilled mage, Carahil raised her hand and cast a powerful ball of fire at her daughter. But Arquen saw it enough in advance to kick her heels upon the horse’s sides to get her moving, and the spell just missed her. It would have killed her.

This post has been edited by Lady Syl: Jun 21 2011, 05:47 PM

Sorry it took so long to get over here and read, this month has been unbearably hectic so far.

Hugely powerful scene at the end, poor Carahil !! Very well done raw emotions a parent may feel at a time like that - scary !! Awesome Write !!

I read this yesterday, but it seems I've been remiss in commenting.

This is a great twist to the murder mystery. And Carahil is so true to character, trying to stop her daughter from following Sithis, in spite of the fact that she is reeling from the gruesome discovery that her daughter is a demon-worshipper. (I can't bring myself to call her a daedra-worshipper, since those folks aren't all gruesome evilness).

And the polarity between Tandilwe and Eldaril - he wants to settle down, she wants to travel. She already knows it ain't gonna work, but how can he be so fricking dense??

mALX:Thank you!

And no worries--read whenever you have time. Goodness knows I'm crazy busy, lately, myself, so I understand.

haute ecole rider:I know, right? Men can be rather oblivious at times, unfortunately. Of course, the way he probably sees it, every woman should want to settle down, get married, and never explore the world, right?



Chapter 4.2--Child of Sithis

“Poor Carahil,” the tall Dunmeri woman said, her dark red eyes pointed down and to the side. “She is such a good and respectable mage. It’s a shame her daughter had to turn out so terrible…”

“She didn’t get it from Carahil, that’s for sure,” said Wilbur, the barkeep, as he wiped the counter off with a damp linen cloth. “Orintur is so much like his mother, but Arquen has always been different. I wasn’t surprised when Carahil told Countess Umbranox that Arquen murdered Linnea. Didn’t you suspect her, Arvena? She was my first pick of suspects.”

“I’ve never liked Arquen, but I didn’t really believe she was capable of committing such an atrocious crime,” Arvena Thelas replied, looking down into her metal tankard of beer. “And with all the ships sailing in and out of port, I assumed it was one of the sailors.”

“True,” said Wilbur, putting the cloth under the counter and leaning on the surface. “It wouldn’t be unexpected if some rough sailor from gods know where had tried to get frisky with Linnea, only to have her fight back, so that he had to kill her to keep from getting caught. But that would be too likely.”

“I still can’t believe Arquen would say such things to her mother, though,” said Arvena. “I really had hope that the girl would get better over time. Carahil has always been such a good mother to both of her children. Sure, she’s been very busy with the guild, and perhaps she didn’t stay at home as much as she should have…but she’s done the best she could. I have much respect for that woman. I don’t think I would have been able to handle raising two kids and working for the Mages Guild without a husband to help me. And even when her lover was alive, he was hardly around—always out with the ship, nine months out of twelve.”

The two of them stopped talking about it when they saw Hannibal Traven enter the tavern, Carahil on his arm. The two of them were an interesting pair—the somewhat short and stocky Breton Arch-Magister and the tall, willowy, golden-skinned Altmer. They didn’t look like the usual couple, but everyone who saw them together knew they were well-matched.

Wilbur and Arvena both watched Carahil and Traven seat themselves at a table in the far corner together, smiling at each other modestly. Then Wilbur glanced over at his wife, who was serving another customer. She nodded when she saw her husband looking at her, and then headed over to help Traven and Carahil when she was finished with the other customer.



Carahil knew Traven was trying to cheer her up, and she was trying to be grateful, but she couldn’t get her daughter out of her mind. As Traven pushed in her chair, always the gentleman, and went around the table to sit down, Carahil forced a faint smile and let out a sigh. Traven reached across the table and took her hand, squeezing gently. She looked in his eyes and she could see that he cared about her.

“You’re a good man, Hannibal,” she said, as she looked across the table at him.

“I’m just me,” he answered. “And I’m in love with you.”

They were interrupted when Wilbur’s wife, Yasmina, came over to serve them, “Good evening. Is there anything I can get for you tonight?”

“A bottle of Tamika’s vintage 399 for the two of us,” said Traven, with a sparkle in his eye as he glanced at Carahil. She understood his intentions, but shook her head.

“I’ll just have tea, actually,” she said.

“Very well,” said Yasmina with a nod. “I’ll get that right to you. Anything else?”

“No, thank you,” said Traven. When Yasmina was gone, he looked at Carahil again, and asked, “Did I do something wrong? I thought you liked Tamika’s…”

“I appreciate the gesture, Hannibal,” she answered with a sigh. “But I’m not in the mood for wine tonight. I thought something a little simpler would be best.”

“Carahil, I know you are hurting,” he said, taking her hand again. “But you cannot dwell on the things which cannot be changed. You did all that you could and more. Arquen has never been grateful. None of this is your fault.”

“She is my daughter, Hannibal,” Carahil replied. “I can’t just stop loving her, or forget what she has done. And I do bear responsibility in this; don’t try to deny it just to make me feel better. I know I am far from perfect. But I also do know that there is nothing I can do to change what has been done.”

“Though the past now lies beyond our reach, the future is ours to behold,” he sai, pressing her hand to his lips. “Look to the future, Carahil. I want to create our future together, you and me against the world.”

“Against it? Hannibal, I thought you wanted to help the world, not conquer it.”

Traven chuckled a bit and let out a sigh. “You know what I mean, Carahil. I can’t beat you in a word match, even if my life depended on it.”

“You could always try,” she said, smiling slightly.

There was a somewhat awkward silence to follow, and then Traven said, “I know what you’re doing—trying to change the subject. And I do understand, Carahil, but… Look, you know that I’m no good with words. But you also know how I feel about you—how I’ve always felt about you, even before…. I know that you are afraid to be hurt again. But I’m not a sailor, I’m just an old mage and a scholar. My life is in just as much danger as anyone else’s, true. But you can’t go through life, holding back, just because of what might happen. We are all going to die one day. But it’s better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all—that’s what my mother always used to say to me, and I have always believed it. I love you, Carahil. And I want to marry you.”

Carahil was somewhat relieved when Yasmina returned just then with a tray of tea and a bottle of wine. She was overwhelmed with Traven’s offer of marriage, and she really didn’t know what to say.

“Well, here you are,” said Yasmina, smiling warmly and standing with her hands on her hips. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you. Otherwise, enjoy.”

“Thank you,” Carahil answered with a nod.

“Yes, thanks,” said Traven, although he was clearly annoyed by the poorly timed interruption. Carahil couldn’t help but smile at his agitation. Humans were never good at masking their emotions…

When Yasmina walked away again, Traven leaned his elbow on the table and sighed. Carahil sipped her tea, carefully hiding her anxiety over the direction of their conversation, and desperately wishing Traven would forget about it and talk about something else. But she knew that was never going to happen.

“Carahil, won’t you give me an answer?” Traven asked suddenly, his voice trembling nervously.

Setting down her cup of tea, Carahil sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, she looked directly at him, and said, “Hannibal, you know that I care about you. But I am not certain that marriage is the best thing for us.”

He sighed, agitated, and threw back his drink all at once. Carahil watched him, wishing he wouldn’t take it so harshly but knowing it was best for her to speak the truth. After drinking a second and then a third glass, Traven set the cup on the table, pounding his fist, and saying, “What is it with women? One minute you’re passionately in love with me, and the next you are pushing me away. I just want us to be happy, Carahil. Can you not see that?”

“Of course I can, but…it’s not that easy. What you are asking for…it is out of the question. It cannot be, Hannibal. You are meant for something greater than that—you are the future of this guild. You will do great things for this world, I can see this.”

“Damn it, Carahil, must you always think only of the guild? What happens in the guild should not stop us from living an honest life together, as husband and wife. Giving up our own happiness is not the only way to ensure the survival of the guild. We are hardly that important.”

“Each member of the guild is just as important as the next, yes,” she replied. “But those of us who work the hardest have a duty to put the guild before ourselves. Surely you understand this, Hannibal. Marriage will only distract us from doing what we must.”

“Just as motherhood did?” he asked, clearly irritated. He always spoke with the intention to hurt when he drank too much, and Carahil tried not to let his sharp words agitate her.

Rising from her chair, she looked at him for a moment, and said, “Come speak to me when you are in your right mind, Hannibal. For now, I am tired. I’ve had a very long day.”

She turned and headed for the door, knowing that he would be too ashamed of himself to follow. She was grateful, at least, that he had enough sense to know when to quit.

This post has been edited by Lady Syl: Jun 28 2011, 03:55 AM

GAAAAH!! Poor Traven takes a hit here, lol. Great Write!

Locked by request of OP