Journey of Truth, The Journal of Tandilwen, thread 1 Options

[Lady Syl]

Prologue
Anvil
25 Sun's Dawn 3E 433

As my father lay dying, I closed my eyes and got up from the chair beside his bed, barely able to comprehend what he had just revealed to me. When he took his last breath, I stood across the chamber unable to look at him, while my aunt, Carahil, stood beside the bed holding his hand. I knew the moment his life force left his body—I felt it, almost like a heavy sigh breathed in a moment of great relief. And then I heard my aunt say, in a solemn voice, “It is done. He is beyond the reach of Nirn, in the Realm of Spirits.”

Carahil was a strong and serious person. I had always known that, ever since I was a child. She tried never to show too much emotion in any situation. That was the high elf way, so my father had always told me, and he expected me to be the same, even though my mother had been a wood elf. And I was good at it. I made my father proud. But never had I seen one so good at hiding her true emotions as my aunt Carahil. Rarely did her composure ever falter. The day my father died, however, I could hear it in her voice—a slight tremble which betrayed the pain of loss she felt for the brother with whom she had shared a womb.

Holding back tears, Carahil turned to face me, and finally I looked at my father—now just a corpse. The sight caused me to shudder, and I had to close my eyes again as a single tear slipped down my cheek. He was a man I barely even knew, and yet I had loved him like any girl loves her father. But more than that, the tear was for the truth that he had just told me—a confession on his death bed which would forever alter the course of my life. Nothing could ever be the same after what he told me that day. Nor could I love him quite the same as I had loved him before; he had betrayed my trust.

“Where are you going?” Carahil asked in alarm when I opened the door.

Stopping to look at her from the corner of my eyes, I answered with quiet determination, “To the Imperial City. Only the gods know where I’ll end up from there.”

And then I left, never to return.

This post has been edited by Lady Syl: May 12 2011, 10:41 PM

[Lady Syl]

Chapter 1.1--Summer of Love

3E 429—Four years earlier…

Rain’s Hand. A cool spring breeze blew through the air, rustling the leaves. The sun was warm as it danced through the trees, and Tandilwen couldn’t help but smile as she walked leisurely through the streets of Anvil, a gleaming white city in the west of Cyrodiil, situated on the coast of the Abecean Sea. It was the city she had called home since the year her mother died, and she had always been happy there—where the sky touched the sea, and there was nothing more beautiful than watching the sunset over the bay. In a word, it was bliss.

“Tandilwen!”

Hearing her name called from behind her, the tall, fair-haired elf turned to see her best friend running toward her with a smile on her face that was so big it could likely be seen from the top of the lighthouse! Tandilwen smiled to greet her friend, a Redguard named Clesa, who she had known for most of her life.

Upon drawing near, Clesa threw out her arms and wrapped them around Tandilwen in a tight squeeze, speaking in a rushed manner, “Oh, Tandilwen, today is the best day of my life! Ernest has asked me to marry him! And I said yes!”

Tandilwen gasped in delight and squeezed her friend back, saying, “Oh, Clesa, I am so happy for you! When will you be getting married?”

“Well, we are thinking of having the wedding in Mid-Year, just before my birthday.”

“Mid-Year, of this year?”

Clesa nodded. “Why wait?”

“Well, you are only seventeen, for one thing.”

“And your point is…?” Clesa asked, crossing her arms over her chest and raising one brow.

“Well, you are still so young… Wouldn’t you rather wait a year or two?”

“What for?” Clesa asked with a laugh. “We humans don’t have centuries to decide on a mate, like you elves do. We’ve got to start young, or we would die out!”

“Alright, I guess that’s a good point,” she replied, smiling again. “Still, if I were getting married—and it will be a long time for me, if ever—I would at least want a few months or so to get it all planned out. I mean, two months doesn’t give you much time.”

Clesa shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me. Tandilwen, I’m so in love I could get married right this day, in sack-cloth, for all I care!”

Tandilwen laughed, shaking her head, and saying, “Oh, Clesa, you are really something else, you know that? Ernest is going to be one lucky man.”

“He sure is,” Clesa agreed. Then she asked, “So, where are you headed? Another rendezvous with Maximus?”

An instant smile crossed her lips, and she blushed a bit, the moment she heard his name, and Tandilwen stopped in the street again. “As a matter of fact, Clesa; yes, I am. Is that a crime?”

“It will be if his mother ever finds out,” said Clesa, raising her brows. “Countess Umbranox is pretty set on finding someone of noble lineage to marry the heir to County Anvil—and that won’t be as easy if word gets out that he’s already taking a sample of an elven commoner….”

“What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her,” Tandilwen said with a mischievous smile.

“Ooh, rebellion,” said Clesa. “You are a naughty elven commoner… No wonder Max Umbranox likes you so much!”

The two laughed for a moment, but when the laughter died down, Clesa let out a sigh. “Ah, well—I’ll leave you to go meet your noble lover-boy, and I’ll go return to my lover-boy. Perhaps we can meet up later, for supper at the Count’s Arms? Wilbur’s wife is such a good cook.”

“Okay, sounds good,” said Tandilwen, waving goodbye as she walked away. “See you.”

She let out a sigh as she continued to walk toward the gates, nodding politely when the guards greeted her before pulling open the heavy doors. Passing through, she found it amusing, somewhat, that they were unknowingly helping her commit a bit of a crime against their Countess. Not that that’s what made her do it. The son of Millona Umbranox was handsome and charming, and she had known him for many years. They practically grew up together, though they hardly moved in the same circles.

Tandilwen wasn’t from a poor family—not by any means. But she was certainly not a noblewoman, and her passionate interludes with the Countess’s son could get her into loads of trouble, if ever they were caught. If nothing else, it would certainly be looked down upon, and her reputation in Anvil would be ruined. But that was something she preferred not to think about, and she was willing to take the risk to be in the arms of Max Umbranox.

When she reached the little cave, at the base of the cliff upon which the castle sits, Tandilwen carefully made her way inside, blinking in the darkness for a moment while her eyes took their time to adjust. The cave was flooded a little, and there were some old, musty crates and barrels which had once been stored in the cave by pirates. Now they sat there forgotten, beneath the glittering castle that was home to County Anvil’s most noble family.

The only light inside the cave came from some natural light that managed to trickle in from some small holes in the rock. The light reflected off the water, casting an ethereal glow upon the walls and ceiling of the cavern, and Tandilwen was always left in a sense of awe when she saw that enchanting vision.

She stepped forward into the cave just a bit, wondering if Maximus was there yet. Perhaps she was early? But as she began to look around, she felt someone grab her from behind, covering her mouth with a gloved hand to muffle her scream…