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]

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