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]

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