Acadian: no good will certainly come of their meddling. Such an object is too dangerous to predict its effects.
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Chapter XXIX – The Forgotten ValeTwo figures with magickal light floating above their heads approached in the darkness: one tall and the other slight. They both carried themselves with a feminine grace that Gelebor easily picked out by the way they walked beside one another. It wasn’t until their spells snuffed out and they entered the flickering light of his roaring fire that the Snow Elf recognized the familiar face of the Nord woman.
“Ah, now this is a surprise,” said Gelebor. “Ms. Linneá, yes? I did not expect to see you return after all this time.” He looked down at Gwyn and smiled genially. “And who would this be? As I recall, you last visited the Chantry with another vampire, though you seem to have cured yourself of that affliction, too. I must say, your natural eyes suit you much more so than the gleaming red of the night dwellers.”
“It’s nice to see you again, Gelebor,” said Linneá with a curtsey. “This is Gwyndala, my soon-to-be sister-in-law. And it’s ‘Mrs.’ now, if you please,” she added with a smile. “Serana and I were wed a few months after we departed here with Auriel’s Bow.”
“Very nice to meet you, Gwyndala.”
“Gwyn is fine, Gelebor. Nice to meet you, too.”
Gelebor offered them to sit with him by the warm flames and Gwyn did not hesitate to do so. She rubbed her hands together dangerously close to the fire until the cold had been chased away. Linneá, Nord that she was, removed most of her outerwear before sitting so as to not sweat to death, which still somewhat annoyed the Breton.
Once they were comfortable, Gelebor offered them a basket of snowberries to ward off the chilly air, which Gwyn gratefully accepted.
“So, what brings you all this way?” he asked the two of them. “Not more vampire business I hope?”
“Not this time, Gelebor,” said Linneá. “Actually, we were hoping you could shed some light on recent Falmer activity in Skyrim.”
Linneá told him of their plight, with the occasional clarification of a detail from Gwyn. The Snow Elf listened with rapt attention, though his features did not betray anything while the tale of the missing Falmer and the Windborne family’s attention to the matter met his ears. He did not speak for a few moments following the summation, but they could practically hear his thoughts churning over.
“I am pleased to hear that you have kept this place a secret for so long, Mrs. Linneá,” he began. “However, if we are to continue having this conversation, I would ask that the two of you partake in a binding oath under the seal of Auri-El to not share any of what I am able to divulge, unless I give you permission to do so.”
Gwyn’s eyebrows raised questioningly, but Linneá quickly grabbed her hand and held it in her own, presenting them both to the Knight-Paladin.
“Absolutely. We will swear to your terms under Auri-El’s authority, and under Kyne’s, of who I am her chosen Champion.”
“The Sister-Hawk? And yet you were once a vampire?”
“Kyne has always been a large part of my life. My father, the Dragonborn, served as her champion in his younger years before ascending to the throne. Now that duty lies with me.”
“How fascinating. I’d love to hear more about that – another time, that is.” Gelebor pulled off an amulet from his neck that featured the ancient symbols of his patron Divine, Auri-El, and laid it upon his outstretched palm. “Place your hands over this and I shall intone the oath.”
Linneá and Gwyn placed their hands as instructed and closed their eyes in wait. Gelebor never spoke aloud, but soon enough a beam of pure golden light encircled their hands in an intricate and binding web. It glowed powerfully and then faded out after several seconds.
“The oath is completed.” Gelebor stood up and gestured towards the stone monolith Linneá and Serana traveled through on their original visit to Darkfall Cave and beyond. The portals to the various Wayshrines throughout the Vale still shimmered in their archways offering a distorted vision of the destinations beyond. “Please follow me to the balcony of the Inner Sanctum.”
The Knight-Paladin led the way with due haste. Linneá and Gwyn followed just behind him, stepping through the portal and into the once proud Inner Sanctum of the Chantry to Auri-El, now reduced to rubble. A clear and star laden night sky filled with the light of Masser and Secunda shone down upon the trio as they stood among the ruins.
“What the hell happened here?” asked Gwyn, looking around at the mess.
“Ms. Linneá and her spouse wrestled Arch-Curate Vyrthur for control of Auriel’s Bow in this very place,” said Gelebor. “It was Vyrthur who destroyed the chapel.”
“And then Serana picked him up by the throat and chucked him over the parapet up there,” said Linneá. “Sexiest damn thing I ever saw.”
Gwyn rolled her eyes. “Good to know your infatuation with each other hasn’t dulled over the years.”
“Never.”
Gelebor politely cleared his throat and began climbing the steps to the balcony overlooking the frozen lake far below. Following up him up with a measure of apprehension, the two women soon came to a stop on either side of where he stood in wait and surveyed the Forgotten Vale with a look of wonder.
Nearly every inch of the valley, and all that they could see beyond, was filled with Falmer tents and burning campfires. Countless numbers of the diminutive fallen elves moved about like ants through a colony. The odd pens where they raised their chaurus pets were scattered about sporadically, and there were dimly lit mushroom and toadstool farms tended to on the shorelines and cliff faces that bordered the lake.
“By the Nine. Gelebor… how many are there?”
“Thousands, Ms. Linneá. They began turning up here months ago.”
“At least they aren’t all dead,” noted Gwyn. “That was beginning to look like a real possibility.”
“It’s been quite the challenge getting them to cohabitate without infighting,” sighed Gelebor. “The Betrayed are very territorial and did not take kindly to the refugees that continued to pour in. Eventually, we were able to choose representatives from the major clans and establish lines of communication. And boundaries. Matters have become much more copasetic since that milestone was attained.”
Linneá could scarcely believe what she just heard.
Neither could Serana for that matter.
Is he serious!? she asked her wife silently.
Did he just casually tell the two of you that he can communicate with the Falmer!?
Sure as [censored] sounds like it. That changes everything.“Gelebor, you can speak to them?” asked Linneá.
“Oh yes. It took many long months after you brought peace to the Chantry, but the struggle was not in vain. There is even a council of sorts that I regularly meet with to keep tabs on their progress. The Betrayed are very intelligent beings who I fear are utterly misunderstood by the world at large. It is probably a good thing in the long run that so many have fled their homes to exist here among their own kind.”
“Yeah, but what’s the plan beyond that?” said Gwyn. “They can’t live here forever and if they continue breeding with each other the valley will grow too small to contain them. What happens then?”
“That will be a matter to address at that time,” said Gelebor.
“Uh, no it [censored] won’t be. Kicking a problem down the road isn’t going to work in this situation.”
Gelebor frowned and opened his mouth to retort when Linneá interrupted.
“You’ll have to forgive her bluntness, Gelebor, but Gwyn isn’t wrong in this, and her concern comes from an important place. It’s only a matter of time until her and my brother ascend to the throne of Skyrim. You’re looking at the future High Queen, and this is something she will have to contend with.”
“I see. In that case, I believe we should have an open line of communication going forward. For all our benefit.”
“Agreed,” said Gwyn. “But you do realize that means we have to be open with the inner circle of my father-in-law’s royal court, yes?”
“I will trust your judgement on what needs to be shared under our oath,” said Gelebor. “Let us move on for now. I would ask that you rest for tonight, and then tomorrow morning we shall meet with The Betrayed.”
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It was a fairly restless night in the tent for Linneá and Gwyn. They were safe in Darkfall Cave under the watchful eye of Auri-El’s Knight-Paladin, yet both of them tossed and turned while their minds processed the day’s revelations and what it held for the future of Skyrim. And for the current situation they had come so far to investigate. The answers were tantalizingly close.
The warm rays of the sun were not available to rouse them from the tent, and so Gwyn was thoroughly unsure of the hour when she shuffled out of her sleeping bag to heat up breakfast and tea over Gelebor’s seemingly everlasting fire.
He greeted her warmly and even shared a mug of tea with the Breton while Linneá remained asleep in the tent.
“Good morning, Ms. Gwyn. I trust you are ready for the day?”
“No. This will be Linneá’s show. I’m still too new to this land and I don’t know nearly enough about the Falmer to be of use. But it will be a good opportunity to observe and learn,” she added.
“A wise insight,” said Gelebor. “My heart tells me you shall serve your people well.”
There came a rustling sound from the tent and a tousle-haired Linneá poked her head out to see what was going on. “Any idea what time it is?” she asked.
Gelebor peered at the Wayshrine. “I can just see the sun rising through the portals. Dawn approaches.”
“Good enough,” said Linneá. Her head disappeared into the tent for a moment. She emerged a few minutes later fully dressed and ready for the day, her long and messy hair tied up in a ponytail. “What’s good to eat?”
Gwyn stirred a skillet sizzling with the few remaining fresh vegetables they had from their bag and tossed in some dried venison to re-hydrate it in their juices. She sprinkled some seasoning over the top and laid a hunk of bread near the coals to heat it up.
“Whatever you can call this,” she laughed. “I just tossed some [censored] in a pan and hoped for the best.”
“Smells amazing, sis. Where’s the tea?”
She helped herself to a mugful from the urn Gwyn passed her way and sipped carefully at the piping hot beverage while Gelebor began telling them how the morning would unfold. They hung on his every word with rapt attention. Meeting with leaders of Falmer tribes promised to be a harrowing experience no matter which way Linneá looked at it, and she did not want to be caught flat-footed, nor did she want to inadvertently cause harm or insult the fallen mer.
The hour finally arrived after Linneá and Gwyn finished their breakfast and tea. Gelebor led them once again to the Wayshrine, but this time they entered a portal to Wayshrine of Resolution, which stood on a rocky hill overlooking the frozen lake. Gwyn bundled her cloak more tightly about her and cast her warmth spell to fend off the icy gales blowing in off of the tent-packed expanse. They descended the hilltop single file to where a massive Falmer hut – much larger than any Linneá had ever seen – was erected on the shoreline. The familiar gates crafted from the chitinous chaurus barred entry to the hut’s interior.
Gelebor pinched his throat between his fore and index fingers, and spoke in the raspy, guttural language of the Falmer. The gate swung inwards, and he led them inside.