The Meaning of Life Options

[ShraX]

Hello.

Most likely don't know me but I have this habit where I write something, take a needlessly-long break, then come back and continue it, expecting everyone to still understand what's going on. Anyway, I wrote 3 fanfics about Gaenor that originated on the official TES forums, then migrated here for some reason. Now, having had my fill of annoying elf-related stories, I began something new that I want to continue, and the only way I'll do that is if I post it and people are interested enough to want more.

It might be in bad taste to request something from the potential readers of this new story, but it's only fair; if you read this and think that something doesn't flow or could be improved upon (not content, but structure), I would greatly appreciate any and all criticism you have.. please, don't hold back. If what you want to say seems like it shouldn't be displayed on this thread, send me a PM. I'll never get better if I don't get criticism, and I want to get better. Then again, you don't have to say anything at all.

Sorry for the long introduction. Here's to what I hope will be a fun fanfic for all!

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The Meaning of Life

There was no more to be said. I stood and took my leave of the Meeting tent, the heavy iron plating my legs disturbing awkwardly the peace of night in the encampment. We'd been discussing the threat from the Jeralls for hours after eating, and the sun's light crept above the mountainous horizon with foreboding quickness. I fixed my eyes to the dirt and felt my mouth droop to a frown. It had been decided and set for me to settle this restless darkness of yet-unknown depth, as I'd proven myself in years past as formidable with the axe and shield when confronted with those who would wish life torn from body for purpose of self gain. In six hours I would depart in fresh snow, and my destiny would arrive at last to the fruitful conclusion of its long hunt.

It was difficult sleeping, not with the cold but with thoughts my young mind failed to silence. I gave empty answers to questions no one could satisfy, and they all reminded me of how unprepared I truly was for the looming hardships yet to be crossed, patient in their undoubted fatality. My muscles tensed of their own will, perhaps reacting to the subtle worries building in my subconscious, for I tried with all concentration to banish them there so that I may have focused on less frightening prospects. I hushed the quiet candle beside me and remembered Grumir's words.

"I'll have these ready before ye set off, and leave 'em outside yer tent. I've worked overnight plenty before, and the clangin' don't seem to bother no one!"

I knew him long, since I was old enough to wield a weapon and bring it back to him for repair. I've never known his face without it tilting down, something he did both to playfully mock my considerably shorter stature and because he honestly was unable to see me unless he did so. Each time he did it, and it was every time he spoke to me, even when we sat and our eyes were level, I couldn't help but let out a short chuckle of mild disbelief. He never seemed to notice, which was not surprising. In his more drunken episodes in the evenings, he'd ramble on about his adventures in Elswyr when he was younger, and of the "filth-ridden coat-bags" he'd slain. I took no offense, largely because I could never figure out what exactly a "coat-bag" was and why it was an insult to my people, according to Grumir. In his sober heart however, he grew to appreciate my presence, as out-of-place as it always seemed to me.

Despite my physical appearance, the shear amount of time I spent with these people led them to accept me as one of their own, which I always was, in essence. I am unsure as to who my parents are, or were, but I am Khajiit for certain. I've seen others rarely during hunting raids and sojournings into the Imperial City for trade, and after comparing looks, I began to develop a mindset for my race. We are Khajiit, or at least they are. I am Khajiit to those who see me; those who know me would think twice. The Nords in my encampment knew me very well, and respected me as a warrior and friend. Although, the physical differences were impossible to ignore. Their armor had no ear holes, and my feet refused to stuff themselves into their thin-toed boots. Their chairs forced me to curl my tail into my lap in a most uncomfortable position, and I often contemplated eating on the floor, but always dismissed the idea as I feared being related to a house cat in the most humiliating way apart from relieving myself in a box of sand.

Trivialities aside, I lived in their encampment all my life, since being left naked in the cold twenty years ago outside the ancient hut of our chieftan, who has now passed. They cared for me and trained me in the combat arts of Skyrim, and I adapted my agile form to master new techniques which set me apart from the other boys. I became most proficient with the axe, and later, learned to balance offense with the defense of a shield. Seven years littered with exploits deemed heroic by those they aimed to benefit have birthed a fine fighter, in my humble opinion, and I attempted to direct the memories of my greatest victories as a stampede over thoughts of the task that lay before me. It was pointless; even looking in the direction of the cave I was to enter discouraged my steps, and my knees weakened. All I could do now was tie the blindfold of courage around my eyes and pray the little sleep I did manage would be enough to carry me back there the next day in triumph.

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[ShraX]

I sat by the bonfire in the center of the camp and watched my kin set out their spears and swords for tomorrow. It would be the second Hunt of the month, when most of them would stand facing Bear's Sledge, an enormous natural rock formation a few minute's walk from their tents, and wait for the sun to take position directly above it. This indicated that the time of the Hunt would take place, and they would disperse in celebration and bloodlust into the surrounding hills and forests for meat, fur, hooves and teeth. With what they would return was capable of providing for the encampment until the next Hunt, always two weeks apart. When the last candle had been silenced, I turned to the burning timber at the base of the fire before me.

"Be not afraid," I said calmly. "What?" I said again. I quickly stood and looked all about, but the moon was shrouded now in thick clouds, and the only light still alive was that from the bonfire. All else was pitch black, and I felt the dense shadows from the cave envelop me once more. "Is it you? From the cave?" I asked in panicked haste. I ceased all movement and the flame of the fire faded in darkness. I could not hear my own words, but I did speak them. As occurred in the cavern, I suspected they would have been carried directly to the ears of the cloaked man, if he was here, and if he even had ears.

"The mist has been lifted," I heard him say, clear as ever. My body felt free again but I did not move. The feeling of snow was replaced with ice under my feet, and upon looking down to this change, I noticed immediately that my clothes were missing. He appeared from within the blackness and at once, I found myself in the cave, standing just where I had the time before. Instinctively, I covered myself with my hands and bent to short crouch. "Indeed, yet you still have much to learn," he said in that low, emotionless tone. "It is you," I confirmed, and he nodded. "I see more behind your eyes than when last we met. Your Elder has revealed my identity."

"Not entirely," I replied, "but.. I'm sorry, where is my armor?" He stood there, silent in all ways but when he spoke, his worn hood concealing all expression. "The Anarchal Order," he said, the words pouring from under his cowl without breath, "was established so long ago in time that the most ancient of texts, the Elder Scrolls, have no record of its name. The Daedra Princes, the Nine Divines, the All-Father.. children to the Order. We have been while these entities came into creation. We watched as they were born, and we shall as they die. We have seen Tamriel's coming into existence and it will fall before our eyes. Time and space are trivial to us. Here," and I felt my arm raise to his chest. I automatically tugged away, but it did not move. It pulled me closer to him and my hand passed through his cloak and out the other side. I gasped and looked to his hidden face, utterly amazed, but not as much as I could have potentially been if I'd not met him earlier and knew at least some of his strange powers.

Control returned to me and I took my arm out from him again, feeling no change in temperature in the process. I looked down at it as if I expected something new to have been placed there, and in fact, there was. I followed a solid black sleeve from my wrist to my shoulder, and noticed I had been dressed in a similar cloak as the man's. "What is this," I asked, overcome with confusion, and something told me to check my head for a hood, but there was nothing. "Do not assume I attempt to persuade you into joining us," he implored. "I am only doing what must be done. Allow me to explain further than in our last conversation.

"Those accepted into The Anarchal Order are proven to possess a clear mind and a pure soul. As the wild boar of your land feels no contempt for its murderer, we dismiss revenge. As the lion's only purpose for killing is to survive, we focus our energies into that which is necessary to perform. As I've stated, our earlier confrontation was the meaning for life. All events which have occurred thus far, from the creation of Nirn to the Altmer jumping over a puddle, have led you to me, and I to you. You, Ri'jzirr, are to join the Order and return balance to all that is." He paused and I took the opportunity to fish out a question from the sea of bewilderment in my mind. "How would my joining the Order bring about all-encompassing balance," I asked.

"The Order," he answered, "is the foundation for all things. As the arch cannot support weight if it is without its center stone, existence may not be without us. You are our center stone, Ri'jzirr, and my enemy seeks to shatter you."

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