Blood on the Moon, A Journey of Discovery Options

[haute ecole rider]

*snip*
Athlain looks at black-as-night arrow in tree behind him. "Brynjolfyr.....Forge me a new pair of greaves..."

And make 'em brown!

Loved this bit, really, totally loved it.

First, let me get one teeny, tiny, itty bitty nit out of the way. More a matter of taste, really.

But he had, learned I mean.

In this context, it reads a little awkwardly. Because this is Thyna's thought, it should read as speech. And I think there should be a period in place of the comma. But he had. Learned, I mean. I think this captures what must be the rhythm of her thoughts better. It's up to you to go with my suggestion or leave it as it is. I think it would be fine either way, just that the period makes it more "speech-like" IMHO.

Okay, on to the fun stuff. Where to begin. I loved this description:

Only, although Athlain’s was a perfect replica of mine, it was completely opposite. The one I kept with me always was white gold and a left hand; the one he now wore was ebony, glistening like a black diamond, and was a right hand.

I see Athyna as being dark - not evil, not mean or ugly, just dark the way a moonless night is dark - it just is the way she is. And I see Athlain as being the day to her night, even though he has dark thoughts himself at times, and when he was addicted to skooma it was a very black time for him and her arrival was like a shaft of sunlight. Still, on a fundamental level, he is the light, and she is the dark. So she has the white gold hand, and he has the ebon one. It's poetic, in a way. Just as the hands complement each other - left and right working together, they reflect the reality of their relationship - they are each other's yin and yang. And just as the yin has a little bit of the yang in it, and vice versa, so our A-Team has a little bit of each other in themselves.

Ooooh . . .

Backing up a little bit, I loved this bit of dialogue:

“May I help you sit up?”

“You better, because I need my tea. Otherwise I may have to skewer you with this wonderful katana you stole from me.”

“Ah, that familiar biting humor means you aren’t quite dead yet.”

“Would take more than that giant meat tenderizer to do me in, you should know that by now.”

“It did the job I requested of it though; it found your shoulder quite nicely I’d say.” And he propped me up with pillows and reached to the tray for a cup already full of the liquid that I used to kill the beast that I woke with every morning.

My left hand was shaking a tad as I tried to take the cup and I offered no argument when Athlain put it to my lips for a sip.

“My head is still spinning from the poppy.”

“If that is what is making you so agreeable I may have to insist on your having it more often.”

And there it was, a smile that I had not seen since before he left Vvardenfell, a genuine smile that went all the way through his eyes and straight to his heart.

“I miss that.”

“Pardon?”

“Being able to see all the way to your soul.”

It really shows us their relationship is founded on mutual respect that withstands all, even their near-constant bickering. In fact, the bickering tells us that the relationship is as strong as always, and that is important to us by this stage of the story. We really care very much about these two, and I, for one, am happy to see them bickering like this again. And that smile of his - it tells me that he is as happy as I!

[minque]

What can I say that isn't already said? The development of their relation is wonderful... You guys really make this story soooo complex and intriguing. AND the dark shadow of our favourite assassin is always present.. Now THAT is indeed interesting.

Why is HE always lurking in the shadows? Hmmm tickles my mind..

As always this story is so utterly wonderful written, I am truly impessed

[treydog]

@Everyone- My co-author is busy with RL and playing with her new grandson, so response to kind comments will be delayed. However, my follicles are starting to huddle together anxiously, so I thought I should post something. Will ETA the responses when they are in hand.

Everyone, as my co-author said, I have been in the midst of waiting for, welcoming and post arrival spoiling of my first grandson…(My first granddaughter is a year and a half, my son’s child) My daughter, the eldest child, is doing well even though her first son was only an inch and ¾ shorter than her inseam…He is beautifully perfect.

McB -it doesn’t matter what time it is or what she has had, spiky is her disposition the vast majority of the time…it started out as intentional for reasons she may or may not explain later but now it is just a part of who she is. And yes, figuring Seth out is a challenge on the best of days…hallucinogenic drugs did not help. Thank you as always for your wonderful, ever welcome support.

BH – See, Seth is far nicer than you seem to believe…had he advanced on Thyna I am not sure than he would have even shot the arrow, he would have charged from his hiding place and they ALL would have needed new greaves…lol. Thank you, thank you always, I am so glad you are here.

Haute- Perfect…you see exactly what the symbols are representative of, yes she is dark, not evil but she sees the world far differently than he does, although it seems there has been some shifting of that since Athlain left home. They are as much a part of each other as they could possibly be as is apparent in the excerpt, the bickering is just a part of who they are to each other; if they didn’t bicker it would throw the entire relationship into chaos…oh wait, it is always chaos…well you get it and I am happy beyond words that you do. Thank you for being here and reading, it means so much to me.

Minque- Thank you, I’ve said that so many times it seems redundant but were it not for you this would not even be a possibility. Athynae is, I hope beyond hope, all that you envisioned her to be, I do not ever want to stray from that. The intensity is rising so stay tuned…Hugs Mother, I miss you.

Thanks everyone, as always, I so love Athynae and I am happy that you seem to as well. Now, Trey, can I go back to spoiling Mr. Genes please?

Where we are- The A and A team (plus a spare A just to confuse badgers and others) are still at Thirsk, but appear to be going some way towards mending the rift caused by the whole "You stole my sword!" "Why are you so stubborn?" "But we were on a BREAK!" (Sorry- that last is Ross and Rachel from "Friends".) But anyway... And then a mysterious letter for Athynae appeared, along with a mysterious token for Athlain. Both were proof that, visible or not, Sethyas is still somewhere close. We will leave Athynae to sort out what she thinks about all of this and join Athlain in progress. As ever- thank you for reading.
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Notwithstanding that we lived in a frontier district of an untamed province, Mother had insisted on teaching us the “social graces.” The results were… mixed, at best. My sisters tended to use “etiquette” as a weapon suited to whatever mischief they had in mind. It mostly meant making jokes at my expense, in decorous, lady-like tones. However, one of the lessons Mother had drilled into me was, when a gentleman is asked to leave, he bows politely and honors the request. Perhaps I had been spending too much time among the Skaal; I could not quite manage the “bow politely” part, although I did leave.

When Athynae had awakened and begun our old game of verbal jousting, I had hoped things were getting back to normal. Or as close to “normal” as we ever were. But Seth’s black arrow had severed the bond between us once more. That was not his intent; at least I did not believe it was- especially if the inscription on the ebony hand meant what it seemed to. But if his plan was to weld Athynae and me into a stronger team, his technique needed work. He was a superb assassin, but a terrible matchmaker.

My mind stuttered on that thought. Where had it come from? The only people who had attempted any “social engineering” had been my mother and Serene. No- the “From my hand to yours” was probably as much a threat as a sign of respect. A more dire threat than the arrow, in fact:

“I now entrust her to your care. Good luck. You'll need it."

It was all very well for Seth to slip in and leave cryptic tokens and notes (the contents of which I could only guess). But it was up to me to somehow regain Thyna’s trust. Some of her hesitation was my fault; I could have handled Dreamer’s improvements better- probably- I would think of how any century now. But it was also going to be up to her to realize that accepting help was not an admission of failure. I had never been able to understand how the same person who was always first to aid others was also the one who refused to ask anything for herself. That might be the hardest battle she had yet faced, and I could not push her into it.

Everything was falling apart. When I had left home, I wanted to find paths my father’s feet had never touched. I wanted to go somewhere without every tree and stone being a shrine to the deeds of the Nerevarine. I had hoped to find Louis Beauchamp’s airship- which I had- and to bring him the ring he so craved. I wondered if Athynae had accomplished that task, but only for a moment. Of course she had. It was a minor chore that I had saddled her with, but she would have taken it as seriously as a Redoran diplomatic mission. Because she had said she would do it. I wondered what other promises she might have made and to whom. And I worried over what the consequences might be.

There were too many forces pulling me in too many directions. Hircine, Boethiah, the Legion, the Skaal, my missing commander, my irredeemable debt to Athynae. Inevitably, I was reminded of one of Father’s lessons regarding alchemy:

You can have ten processes going all at the same time, but you will be fortunate if only nine of them fail- and if you keep your eyebrows. No doubt you will make something that will go into a vial… but would you want to drink it?

Gods how I missed the comfort of his voice, his wry humor, his calm presence. For just a moment the pain was almost palpable, as if I was missing a part of myself that I could not live without. Still, if I did not have him with me in the flesh, I had access to his wisdom. I could try to juggle all of the kwama eggs- and make a mess- or I could concentrate on what mattered the most- Hircine. If I put paid to him and his Wild Hunt, many of the other problems would resolve themselves. I hoped. Of course, a certain half-elven warrior princess might be thinking similar thoughts- and reaching a similar conclusion. And because “protecting poor stupid Athlain” was an additional item on her list, she would bear watching. But carefully and without being obvious about it.

For the moment, I needed to assume my role as Chieftain of Thirsk. As that consisted of sitting in the chair at the head of the hall, with its carved ravens looking over my shoulders and holding- but not partaking of- a tankard of mead, it was easy enough. It also had the advantage of giving me a view of the stair to the upper rooms and the exits from the hall. Thyna could always go out the window if she wanted to, but that was not her way.

The monster’s heart mounted on the pedestal to one side of the throne was a grisly reminder of why I needed to be seen taking my place as Chieftain. The hunters of Thirsk had been buffeted by nearly as many shocks as I, and had less understanding of the reasons. It was time for me to lead. Carbo had told me the “great secret” of leadership when I had been promoted to the rank of Agent.

It’s less about what an officer does than how he looks while doing it. If you can just stand there and look confident, or at least thoughtful, the troops will figure you’ve got it all planned out. And they’ll respond to that. Most of the time, the spear-pushers are just as happy not to know all the details- provided they believe their officers do.

So that was what I did. I looked out over the gathering like a benevolent uncle, even managing a convincing half-smile at yet another rendition of Athlain the Bold. That foray into “song” was followed by a drinking contest, for which I was drafted as the judge. The judging was simple enough- I merely had to indicate who passed out first, while also making sure that none of the contestants “cheated” by pouring the mead into their beards instead of their mouths. A couple of particularly lush-whiskered individuals could have stored the better part of a keg in their facial growth if they had been so inclined.

It was some time later that I realized that somewhere along the way, as I pretended I was not burdened by cares and worries, it had stopped being pretense. I was actually laughing at the outrageous stories and even giving voice to a few of my own, drawn from my early adventures with Athynae. Svenja moved through the hall and her expression was one of complete happiness. Her vision of a rebuilt Thirsk was realized and she reveled in it. I took pleasure in that even as I reminded myself to not get too carried away.

Congratulating myself for leading a bunch of Nords to drink and carouse would be like taking credit for teaching fish to swim.

* * * * *

Leave-taking was never something I had enjoyed. Perhaps that was one reason I had left home in the middle of the night, intent upon…. I was no longer certain myself. It had seemed important at the time, but now I had a feeling it had been more a matter of childish discontent. My only hope was that if the story were ever told, the scribe would gloss over that part of it.

Leaving Thirsk, however, was another matter, and not only for me. At some point during the preparations I met Svenja’s eyes and knew we were both remembering what had happened while I had been away, completing the last of Tharsten Heart-Fang’s tests. Although the mead hall had been rebuilt, the empty places on the benches were fresh wounds in our hearts. I went to her and spoke in a low voice:

“The beast is dead, Svenja Snow-Song, thanks to you as much as anyone.”

She nodded once, but then a thought came to her and she replied in a doubtful tone, “Yes. But it came from somewhere.”

I understood that she did not mean the ice cave on the shore of the lake where the beast had laired.

“Perhaps so. But that is not your worry. I need you here, as my second. There is no one better.”

Reassuring my second was easy- she had years of hunting behind her, and understood the necessities of duty. But Ahnya…. I saw that the girl was in a quiet but animated discussion with Thyna, and so I left them to it. I would have words of my own for Ahnya, but they could wait. Brynjolfr saluted me with his pipe from a place by the fire, so I took a seat next to the smith. Neither of us spoke; the quiet in the midst of the mead hall was eloquent enough. Before long, Athynae stalked over and declared,

“Here I am, ready to go, and you are lurking by the fire.”

She folded her arms and tapped a foot, but there was hint of humor in her eyes. That welcome sight prevented me from pointing out that most of the morning had passed while she had “just a few words” with almost every person at Thirsk. I even suspected some of them had “gone through the line” more than once. And that was in addition to her having been ensconced with Bryn for the better part of the previous day. She refused to say what she had been doing, and the sea was more likely than the smith to betray a confidence.

Meanwhile, her foot was still tapping and her eyebrow was beginning to rise, so I got to my feet and replied, “Then I am also ready, as soon as I speak to Ahnya. Where is she?”

“Back in the kitchen- I think she wanted to bake another 50 or 100 loaves of bread for us to take.”

However, when I got to the kitchen, even though flour dusted almost every surface, Ahnya was not baking. She was seated on a stool, contemplating her bow where it leaned against the wall and idly twisting the thumb ring on her right hand. She was so deep in thought that she did not hear me, so I took the opportunity to just watch. The girl shifted her gaze from the bow to her pallet by the fire and then to the outer door. I could read her thoughts as clearly as if they were printed on a page. She was trying to make a decision, one that she did not need to make.

I spoke from the doorway, “Your place is here. No one questions your loyalty or your courage.”

She did not look at me, but stared intently at the surface of the ring. “But… I am Athynae’s second. What if she needs me? She said not, but… maybe she was just trying to protect me.”

“Yes. She was. That is her responsibility, as it is mine. But we do need something else from you. We need you at Thirsk, learning to be a hunter. You are Thyna’s hope for a better future. She is counting on you to achieve your full potential. Just as I depend on Svenja to maintain Thirsk in my absence, Athynae depends on you to continue as you began. Sometimes, the bravest warriors are those who stay behind, who make sure there is something to come back to. That is your burden, Ahnya. I know you will bear it with strength and poise.”

My speech was not spoiled in the least when the sole member of the audience threw her arms around my neck and whispered, “So I shall. But you… you must bring her back to us.”

After that, it was just a matter of gathering up my pack, settling the Gift in its loop on my belt, and turning north.

The clear, cold air was welcome after the smoky closeness of the mead hall. I knew we would be spending at least one night under the stars and the idea made me nervous. We were setting our feet on a path to track the Lord of the Wild Hunt, a daedric prince who could command and compel the beasts of this island. I was reminded of a story told by an old Urshilaku Ashlander hunter, about how he had trailed an alit for half a day, only to realize that the beast was also stalking him. He still had the scars to show the truth of the story, but at least he had lived to tell it. I hoped we would be able to do the same.

This post has been edited by treydog: Jul 22 2013, 12:27 PM

[McBadgere]

Brilliant!!...

Congratulating myself for leading a bunch of Nords to drink and carouse would be like taking credit for teaching fish to swim.

I think that's one of my favourite lines in any of the fan-fics ever!... ...

I love the way that this episode covers much in a very short space of time...There could have been so much milage in the preparation to go off on the hunt for the Hunter (see what I did there? ), the feast, for one, would have been an excellent chapter in itself, I think!... ...So that you've decided to Just Get On With It™ is brilliant!...

Love the quiet word with the seconds bit too...Brilliant stuff...

Absolutely love this story...Long may it continue!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[haute ecole rider]

Just a lovely installment in the A&A saga that is Blood On the Moon!

A couple of particularly lush-whiskered individuals could have stored the better part of a keg in their facial growth if they had been so inclined.

I know of which you speak! There are a couple of guys where I work with the same characteristic! It doesn't hurt that the boys have a beard contest every November! These two guys just keep it going year 'round!

She folded her arms and tapped a foot, but there was hint of humor in her eyes. That welcome sight prevented me from pointing out that most of the morning had passed while she had “just a few words” with almost every person at Thirsk.

What a wonderful way to show us that some time had passed between the two parts of this episode!

Athlain's interchange with Ahnya is as delightful as ever!

I'm going to mimic McB here: *applauds heartily*

[Black Hand]

Totally read this first.

But it deserves a long and drawn-out review.

Athlain's perspective on many things seems to draw out a wistful take on these events.

I see a little pour-over here from personal revelations on the Author's part into the Character's feelings. This is natural, and universal. Our characters are these...imaginary friends. Forged from our imagination, the ore is our experiences. We put ourselves into them, because we can't make them any other way.

Immaterial, they are nonetheless very real. Perhaps they don't have a physical body, but their personalities are hosted by this strange system of biochemical responses that is our brain. Neuroplasticity lends itself to being a physical manifestation of our thoughts and our choices. When you change your mind, you literally change the structure of your brain, and it's neural pathways.

Quite literally, we are what we think, and what we choose to be.

Athlain is running out of other's wisdoms here. He is now beginning to look to himself more and more. It's a stark and lonely transition to become one's self. One that he knows is necessary and does not shy away from nonetheless.

In this, I see his courage.

[Grits]

A phrase I had sometimes heard crept into my mind, “Shadow hide me.” Unfortunately, this shadow had found me. And the Flame that cast that shadow was about to awaken to an unhappy dawn.

I had to pull this quote out as one of many instances where the beauty of a phrase might stop me in awe but my affection for the characters and delight in the story just keep carrying me along. *blissful sigh*

Seth’s part was the perfect blend of heart, mind, and scary. Good grief, that arrow!

And there it was, a smile that I had not seen since before he left Vvardenfell, a genuine smile that went all the way through his eyes and straight to his heart.

*Grits melts completely*

Ooo, congratulations on the birth of your grandson, Athynae!

Oh my, I loved Athlain’s interpretations of Seth’s cryptic message(s). His inscrutability continues!

My only hope was that if the story were ever told, the scribe would gloss over that part of it.

Yeah, good luck with that.

She refused to say what she had been doing, and the sea was more likely than the smith to betray a confidence.

What a quietly beautiful expression.

I was especially touched by the nature of Athlain’s thoughts of Trey as well as the timing right before he and Thyna take on Hircine.




So... I'm caught up. Um, ready for some more.

[minque]

He was a superb assassin, but a terrible matchmaker.

So right on spot! made me smile!!!

So they are off now our A/A-team....well well what they will encounter is still dwelt in the shadows..hmmm I guess there are more dwelt things/persons in those shadows....

Athynae's personality is actually very interesting..I wonder who she inherited that from? is it her dunmer blood or is it the imperial-nordic heritage that now appears in full bloom?

Who knows?

S.G.M

[treydog]

@McBadgere- That was one of those lines that just kinda showed up in my head- plus the fact that I love to tease our Nordish forumites when I can…

Because I have several “what happened next” pieces already at some stage of being written, I rather did want to finally get the two OUT of Thirsk and onto the path once more. And Athlain learned more from his various mentors (his father not least), than he realizes.

@haute- I have to admit to a bit of… literary theft… in the “full beard” department. My folks had a copy of “Up Front,” a collection of Bill Mauldin’s G.I. cartoons from WWII. There is one in which either Joe or Willie is guzzling from a canteen and the other says- “That’s enough! I see you soaking yer beard full.”

You know, I very much have a feeling Ahnya’s story is one that is going to be told at some point- she has certainly earned it.

@Black Hand- No question that Athlain is the child of my imagination- as well as of my own experiences. But the wonderful thing about writing has been letting him find his own way. Because of that, he is a more fully realized character than his (electronic) father. That he is also a better person than his creator- goes without saying.

@Grits- Thank you for highlighting two places where I allowed the poetry of Athlain’s soul to come through. Because you use words so wonderfully, and paint such vivid pictures with them… praise of my efforts means a great deal to me.

And Seth is just so wonderfully complex and his place in Athlain’s “pantheon” is equally so, which means I can have fun with him in my story…

Part of my plan (such as it was- and “plan” is a misnomer) was that the “Journey of Discovery” part of the story would include learning more about his father and his relationship with him.

@minque- Many trials await the children (I guess I should not call them so- but to their parents, that is what they will always be)… But I think they are beginning to see the value of trusting one another- which was at least part of Seth’s intention. And I think our Dunmer assassin also rather feels “what is the point of having a reputation for being mysterious if I don’t get to USE it every now and then?” As to Athynae… she started with you. Without Serene, there would be no Athynae. Since then- well, she has become very much the product of her heritage and her honor.

Where we are: The next several posts will be a bit of a "step back in time," though only a short distance. We will listen in on Athynae's thoughts about all that has happened, since the Battle of the Broken Shoulder. She will also consider what Seth meant and what she should do about it. She is recovering from the injury sustained in the match, but also from the knowledge that Sethyas was present but did not choose to speak directly to her. Beyond that, her thinking has been jarred into a new path regarding Athlain's ability as a warrior. So- here, at last is Athynae...

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I watched his back, rigid with hurt, as he disappeared through the door and pulled it closed behind him. I had done it again; for some reason it was my lot to forever say the wrong words or use the wrong tone or…dammit all! I don’t care, I don’t. If he hasn’t figured out by now that there are times when I just need to be left alone then he’ll spend a lot more time with hurt feelings before this relationship, whatever it is, comes to a close.

As soon as my brain completed that thought my heart felt as if a great ice bear had wrapped a giant paw around it and squeezed. This will never be over; I can never stop. He has become a warrior, an officer, a chieftain, and many other things that I have not been made aware of as yet, I’m sure, but I swore an oath to Azura that I would protect him; that his life, his heart continuing to beat, was my life’s mission and I have no intention of walking away from that, especially now.

My eyes caught the note and sent my mind off on another course…

Uncle Seth, what is this game? Why are you watching from afar and letting me know you are there with these cryptic notes instead of just revealing your presence? I do not understand what I have done to hold you distant, to keep you away. Whatever this feeling is, I have felt it before, like I’m being pushed away even as something is holding me close. I felt the same way with Mother before I left this last time; she was holding on so tight and pushing so hard. You are doing the opposite in a way; pushing me away by making me angry but holding on by watching over me AND letting me know that you are.


The tears were flowing but no answers came with them. No answers. No answers. “I wish the drapes were open.” I spoke to no one, but I wanted to see the sky; I wanted to see the clouds moving because I needed to know that everything was still going forward, time was not at a stand still just because I felt like I had been stopped.

“Thyna,” the whisper came before the knock; it was Ahnya of course. “May I come in please?”

“Yes.” Modulated voice that I was never good at, but she entered anyway, so I must have done it right- or else her determination was greater than her anxiety.

She held a tray covered with vials and bowls and bread before her almost like a shield; it was so laden that there wasn’t enough room left for a drop of water to rest comfortably.

“Svenja said to bring it all and let you decide what you wanted and so I did.”

She placed the tray on the table by the bed. “There’s a couple of different healing potions; she said you’d know the difference; a stamina potion, and a sleep potion just in case.” And she rolled her eyes; she was already getting to know me far better than most of the people back home. “The stew is one of her concoctions, a recipe she originally got from your mother she said, but she had to change it a tad because some of the ingredients were too difficult to find here…”
As she continued to talk she opened the drapes and I couldn’t hear her anymore; I was lost watching the clouds move and being comforted by the idea that, no matter what fog obscured my mind, the clouds in the sky were moving, which meant I needed to be also.

“I’m going back to the kitchen to help them clean up. Do you need anything else?” She didn’t even notice that I wasn’t paying attention; I wondered if she had said something I needed to hear.

“I’m fine. This should be all I need. Is Athlain in his room?”

“No, he’s in the hall. Everyone is celebrating his victory.” Her face drained of color. “I’m sorry, I …they, I mean, well…Thyna, I don’t know what to say.”

“You spoke the truth; you needn’t say anything. He did win and they should be celebrating their chieftain’s success. I am more proud of him than any of them could ever know. As soon as I am back together I will be down to celebrate with them.”

“There are aspects of you that I will never understand.” And as she departed she was shaking her head, but somewhere inside she knew what I meant, even if she didn’t see it clearly yet.

I took the strongest of the healing potions first and as it found its path, I spoke the spell to heal myself; the two kinds of healing adding strength to each other. And I had to put my hand over my mouth to hold in the sound as the burning began, concentrating on the mending as much as I could, ensuring that the right muscle connected to the right tendon and the nerves weren’t misdirected. That was all I needed- to tell my fingers to clench and feel my toes making a "victory sign."

Healing was a painful process under normal circumstances without potions and spells, but with them it was all the same pain just crammed into minutes and hours rather than being spread out over the course of weeks or months that it would take otherwise. Once I was sure that the right pieces and parts were connected to their respective places I had tolerated about as much as I could and I actually opted for the sleeping draught because I knew that Svenja’s mixture would knock me into the Aether for at least a few hours while the rest of this process finished itself.

Once I get off this horrid island I hope I never have to deal with pain like this again. The worst pain I had ever felt before I got there was when Rah was trying to wield a katana in each hand and as I walked into his room to see what all the racket was he was standing on a chair, Azura only knows why; swung one of the blades, lost his balance, and before I could spin, he put the other blade all the way through my foot into the floor about two inches. Between the momentum of the swing, the weight of the blade, and the distance he fell before contact; on top of the fact that I had sharpened them for him like an idiot, the blade barely missed turning my foot into a guar hoof. Have I ever mentioned what a wonderful healer my mother is?

I woke myself speaking, “Defense, work on defense.” And I realized I held the note in my hand like it was the totem of life. He had said, “You need to work on your defense.” For some reason I couldn’t shake the thought that he meant something different than defending with weapons.

I threw the covers back and flexed my arm; it was stiff and sore but otherwise seemed to be working properly. I put my feet on the floor and realized everything was a bit touchy, like I hadn’t used it in a year, but I had no time to waste. We had dallied long enough and I needed to see Bryn.

Dressing proved a bit challenging, but making everything move was the only way to make sure everything would move. Putting my leathers on wasn’t quite as difficult, so the potion and the spell were still in process. Just the same I was happy for the guidance of the “Armor Song” I had made up when I got my first set of leathers. It was a memory aid for which piece went where and how they attached to each other. Considering the potions I had taken, I needed the reminder. As I finished I wondered if Athlain recalled the bloody nose I had given him when he laughed at me the first time he heard the song. Of course, I could not imagine how he got into the 200 pounds of scrap metal he clanked around in without the use of a block and tackle, along with a team of Orsimer laborers.

Once Dreamer was in place I knew all would be back to normal soon. I departed down the back stairs and out through the kitchen. Svenja called out so I stopped. Her posture as she approached looked a bit stiff but her expression questioned without words, so I answered. “Not totally perfect yet, but well on the way.” I tried to reassure her as much with my words as my tone.

She reached out to feel my shoulder, and I allowed the inspection more to ease her mind so she would leave me alone than anything. “There is still swelling behind your shoulder blade and your elbow is quite warm.”

“The spell and the potion are still working; it’s fine. I’m not going to fight a draugr just yet. I was on my way to see Bryn.”

“Ah well, he just headed back to the forge a little while ago. What do…” she paused with a look like she had realized something was wrong. “ Never mind, I shouldn’t be so nosey.”

Interesting. I didn’t know what to tell her but it didn’t anger me that she asked or tried to, so I responded. “I just want to ask him some questions about my armor.”

A new expression crossed her features, something with a touch of shock. “Are you sure you’re well?” She reached to feel my head.

“I’m fine. You weren’t being nosey; you were showing your concern.” I left her standing with her mouth open. I had somehow addled her just a tad, I think. Sorry Svenja, I’m really not as bad as I have made you all think.

There was a moment of disorientation as I wondered whether I had behaved so poorly that everyone thought I was self absorbed to the point that they could not speak openly with me, especially people I had known most of my life. What was it that I had done that was so horrid that everyone seemed to walk on eggshells and guard every word in my presence? My mind whirled round and round; I hadn’t done anything other than focus, focus on my weapons skills and my healing skills, both in an effort to keep my oath to Azura. My fingers found the note in my pocket, and I could almost feel the ink on the familiar parchment. I closed my eyes and for a moment felt him there. Uncle Seth. That’s what most of this discombobulation was. And the only remedy was to focus on the task at hand. You need to work on your defense. Fine.

[minque]

I love to tease our Nordish forumites when I can…

You do, huh??

Oh Athynae....sweet girl, of course you're not bad, not at all! You will be just fine...

So wonderful to read this, I've been checking daily for updates and there is was..just now YAY!

Thyna is an intelligent young lady, she has the inner understanding of things beyond our comprehension. She made this promise to Azura and she will keep it. Her mother kept her promise so...

It's such a joy to read this story, it totally made my day today

Now the journey begins, may the two walk on warm sands...

[haute ecole rider]

I was just getting starved for some A&A! How wonderful to open this forum this morning and see an update here!

Of course I loved Athynae's musings as she healed herself and returned to some semblance of function.

The description of healing stands out for me, of course. And I loved the little memory of her brother Rah trying to wield two katanas! Julian (who still reads these things over my shoulder) actually snickered at that one! She would know how hard it is to use two swords without cutting oneself up!

Oh, and when are we going to hear the Armor Song? I want to learn it! And this:

As I finished I wondered if Athlain recalled the bloody nose I had given him when he laughed at me the first time he heard the song. Of course, I could not imagine how he got into the 200 pounds of scrap metal he clanked around in without the use of a block and tackle, along with a team of Orsimer laborers.

just made me laugh out loud at the visual imagery these words conjured!

Oh!

You need to work on your defense. Fine.

The "F" word! What a way to end this chapter!

[minque]

I could not imagine how he got into the 200 pounds of scrap metal he clanked around in without the use of a block and tackle, along with a team of Orsimer laborers.

YESSSS hautie JUST the quote I laughed at when I read it

hilarious...just brilliant, I can see it just see it

[McBadgere]

So much of amazing contained therein...Hells yes!!...

While I know why it's taken so long for there to be more...WHY THE HELL HAS IT TAKE SO LONG FOR THERE TO BE MORE?!!... ...

I know...Don't shout at me?...Or...The not shouting thing...Don't do that... ...

I scared now... ...

Aaamywho...

Proper loved the whole thing...The healing, Ahnya, after Athynae got up and was talking to Svenja...So much of excellence...Properly...

There was a moment of disorientation as I wondered whether I had behaved so poorly that everyone thought I was self absorbed to the point that they could not speak openly with me, especially people I had known most of my life. What was it that I had done that was so horrid that everyone seemed to walk on eggshells and guard every word in my presence?

Um...*Looks at watch*...Oh my...Is that the time?...*Walks away quickly*...

Absolutely loved this episode...Brilliant stuff...

Nice one!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[Grits]

“I’m fine. You weren’t being nosey; you were showing your concern.” I left her standing with her mouth open. I had somehow addled her just a tad, I think. Sorry Svenja, I’m really not as bad as I have made you all think.

What a marvelous exchange. I particularly loved the last paragraph with Athynae’s introspection. She’s figured out that it’s very possible to do everything right and still alienate the people who love you. Of course she’s being too hard on herself, but realizing the possibility is another step in her journey. Wonderful stuff!

[treydog]

Editor's note- Comment response will follow when I get them. Some people apparently have to work and spoil their grandchildren...

In the meanwhile, here is the next part from Athynae's perspective.

---------------------------------------------------


I opened the door to the forge and the smell of hot iron and charcoal comforted and reassured me. “Bryn, are you here?”

“Is that ye lass?” He appeared from the back room. “And how are ye feelin? Yer lookin’ a might better than day before yesterday.”

“Seriously? I’ve been out for two days? I hate this place. Nothing happens as it should, and everything that does happen slows everything else down and then just when you think you can move forward, you run into a giant meat tenderizer and it puts you out for two days.”

“Ye didn’t run inta it lass, it ran inta ye, and with more force than I think ye e’er thought he could muster.”

“It’s weird Bryn. I always knew he could; I always knew he had the strength and the skill. I guess that’s why I never gave up. And if this is my payback for that then so be it. I’m happy to know that I was right.”

“Are ye e’er wrong, lass?” And he grinned that grin, the one he ribbed me with.

“Nope. I thought I was once but I was mistaken.” And I raised an eyebrow.

His laugh rattled the tools on the walls. “Aye, yer doin better. So what did ye come see me for? Aren’t there others more important ta see?” I knew he meant Athlain and I would see him soon, but this needed to be done first so Bryn could finish the work. Then spending time with the people of the hall and Athlain before we departed wouldn’t seem so much like a waste of time.

“I’ll see him. It seems to me I’ll be spending plenty of time with him soon enough, so seeing you first is more important. I know that my leather armor is not the most protective, and Athlain pulverizing my shoulder was the proof in the pudding. But I like my leathers. I can move well in them, and I don’t want something that will be cumbersome and heavy and make me sound like a smithy’s forge every step. So, I need your help. I want to… reinforce certain areas; I want to make sure my hands are more protected; I want to make the leather harder to breach; and I also want places like my shoulders and legs to be safer. Is there a way to do that and not add a tremendous amount of weight and keep it quiet? I also don’t want it to be visible.”

Bryn’s eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline and he was scratching his head with one hand and pulling his beard with the other. “Well, if ye had ne’er challenged me afore, ye definitely are now. Come back to the supply room and bring yer magic with ye cuz if we’re ta do all that it’s goin’ ta take all ye got, all I got and we may have to hire out for more… But I love a good challenge I do, and I also want to keep my favorite lass safe, so off we go. I’ll not ask if ye wish fer a shield.”

“A what? Um, no I do not wish to wander through the wilderness with a serving platter attached to my arm, thank you.”

“Ye may find yerself on one be ye not more careful next time.” Bryn accentuated the statement with lift of a bushy eyebrow.

“I don’t want to clink and clank every step I take. And as far as that goes he did what he was trained to do. What makes you think I didn’t leave that opening on purpose to see if he would take it?” And I put on the best ‘don’t question me’ face I could muster. The mere idea planted a doubt in his head and his eyebrows did their dance up his forehead and into his hair. That’s all I needed, for him to think it was a possibility that I might have done it on purpose. Who knows, maybe I did. Sometimes his eyebrows made me think of giant caterpillars creeping up a tree.

“Well?” I had to push it just a tad, didn’t I?

Bryn folded his enormous arms “If ye tell me that’s the way of it lass, I will trust ye.” I had spoken all that I was going to and I was going to trust that the insinuation was enough.

“I want my same leathers, I just want them… improved.” Time to change the subject back to its original context.

“And ye dinna wish ta clank?”

“I don’t want to add a lot of weight either, especially with everything that’s happened. I don’t have a lot of time for strength training to be able to carry a hundred extra pounds.” I wasn’t sure I had the stamina to endure carrying any more weight at all, but I also had to work on my defense. This was the first step in that direction since I was now well aware that blocking every blow was a fairy tale and I also knew that the blows that made contact were not just going to mark a tunic.

Bryn reached out his hand and took mine. “Let’s see what ye have naow.” And he rolled my hand in his as I replied,

“Just straight leathers, nothing special…except…” As he recognized the special hand guards I had designed because Athlain was so adept at smacking my knuckles, he looked intrigued.

“But what about these?”

“They are special mostly because I designed and made them myself, but they need to be better. They cover my hands but leave my fingers free.” The leather covered the backs of my fingers and was held in place by straps on the inside without interfering with my fingertips or my grip.

He leaned closer, his eyes alight with interest. “May I see?” When I nodded, he removed the guard from my hand. “Clever, lass, very clever.”

As he worked out the construction of the guard, I continued to state the requirements. “I think I need my fingers covered but they have to be as mobile as if they were bare.” Bryn picked up a piece of charcoal and began drawing on the wall as I thought out loud, “Otherwise I can’t use all of the weapons I have to their best advantage.” My focus came back to the marks he was making and I said, “You do know, hundreds of years from now, someone will look at those and wonder about the child that drew them?” My stab of humor went completely unnoticed, which was probably a good thing.

Bryn was drawing and talking about a chain gauntlet and completely ignoring my protests concerning the weight and the mobility and every other problem I could think of concerning his use of chain anything.

He finally looked up at me with one of the sternest expressions I had ever gotten from him, “Look ye, it would be like a mesh glove, Nordic silver.”

I cut him off, “I don’t want it to be noticeable either.”

“But only the backs of your hands,” he was still not paying me much mind; his temporary distraction was mostly because of my increase in volume I think. “Then we cover it with leather.” And that was that. “And wi’ the silver under and at the tips, they will appear to be a pair o’ gauntlets, mobile as you could wish.”

“But these aren’t gauntlets! They are leather hand covers!” I don’t know why I was so adamant that my leathers appear the same but it had to be, nothing less would do. If anyone knew I had my leather armor enhanced, reinforced- then all the years I had spent pitching fits about any other kind of armor meant nothing.

I would never tell anyone, but Bryn gave me a lesson in stubborn that day. We were talking about my armor, but we were in his territory, and he was as determined as any tyrant in history.

“Ye’ll no find anything as strong or as light as Nordic silver, exceptin’ maybe glass.”

And he shrugged his shoulders, which made him look like a turtle trying to disappear into its shell.

I shook my head in response, “Oh no!”

“An’ that would be noticeable.”

“Then silver it is.”

“Not just any silver lass, Nordic silver.” He made it sound like an ancient priceless piece that should be guarded instead of used as a guard. “I dinna hae any glass anyhow.”

“That’s good; it’s stupid anyway.”

“Oh?”

“I would sound like a room full of drunks clinking their goblets together.”

“Hae ye ne’er seen yon laddie’s father’s suit of armor?” Bryn was mocking me in good humor.

“I have seen it, many times.” My particularities are my own, and my reasons are as well. There were many great warriors that had worn all kinds of different armor and I was well aware, but for me the only armor I wanted was mine.

“As I recall he was known as a Master Thief….”And the tell-tale eyebrows rose in challenge.

I crossed my arms, tilted my head and snarled a bit maybe. “So? I don’t like it; it’s stiff and cumbersome.” I might have even emphasized my comment with a “hhmmph,” but I don’t recall.

He nodded sagely. “Oh, I see. Tha’s all the difference then, lass. And ‘sides, I dinna hae any of it.” Bryn knew me and this entire conversation was just to make sure I wasn’t in some dark space in my head. He wanted to make sure I was able to have a verbal sparring match with him even if it was just to humor him.

“It’ll be thin sheets o’ silver then, with leather backing and a bit more silver in the tips.” His expression had changed to the one that said “time for work” and I could see the cogs turning behind his eyes.

“If you put it in the tips I won’t be able to feel through it, I won’t be able to use my darts and stars.”

As I was speaking he was rummaging through his chests and I heard him mumble something about having a pair of leather gloves my size somewhere… He pulled a pair out, quickly turned them inside out and walked toward the workbench. Watching him work always mesmerized me; it was as if he was in his own great bubble and nothing could distract him from the task at hand. I don’t know how long it took but it seemed almost instantaneous and he turned and handed me the pair of gloves.

“Try these lass.”

“Bryn, you do know I want this done to my armor, right?”

“I’d challenge Talos Himself afore I’d experiment with yer own armor lest I make a hole where one needn’t be.”

“Just making sure and no, I don’t want any holes where they needn’t be.” He had never made a miscalculation that I was aware of, but he still never took the chance.

I slipped the glove onto my hand. “It feels weird.” It felt like someone had put thimbles into the fingers of the glove. Bryn began to flop my hand over, studying, marking the leather, pulling and twisting and mumbling to himself all the while. “That is still attached to my arm,” I reminded him. He ignored me and removed the glove and started back toward the bench.

“Isn’t there something I can do besides just sit here and wait? I don’t sit and wait very well.”

“And can ye wield a hammer wi’ tha’ damaged shoulder a yers?” He tossed back without turning to look.

“I can use one hand as well as the other. You know that.” And he did; he had watched me practicing when I was younger. Every move with any weapon was practiced first with one and then with the other until both were equally proficient.

“Aye, but can ye do it wi’oot Svenja comin’ down on me like the Fury of Azura?”

“I kind of left her standing with her chin on the ground; I don’t believe she’ll be bothering me for a while.”

“I dinna think I’ll ask.” Now he turned to look at me.

“I don’t know what it was. I was just trying to be nice and she acted as if I needed a potion for brain fever and tried to feel my head.”

“And are ye fevered? If’n ye had a fit o’ nice she probably figured it had to hae a fever to go wi’ it.” He successfully ducked under the small piece of silver he’d left on the table beside me that I hurled past his ear- with my good arm. “Nae, the lass is o’er the fit. I’ll be sure to tell her that ye be’n’t fevered.” And a rare deep rumble of laughter escaped his chest as he went back to his bench.

We spent the rest of the day working, designing, enchanting and arguing about what he could and couldn’t do. In the end I was chased from the forge by the giant bear, waving his hammer. I am almost certain he wouldn’t really have used it on me. He grumbled, “I’m tellin’ ye lass, if ye don’t go away and let me do what I can the way I know how, this is ne’er gonna be done. Go join the festivities, celebrate yer loss and be happy aboot it. Shoo, go…don’t ye trust me to do what needs done?”

“Fine, I’ll go, but if you …” Threats weren’t the way to go with Brynjolfr; what was I thinking? “I mean, yes, Bryn, I trust you; you have never failed at any task I have presented and I have no reason to think that you will this time.” I departed with trepidation, not because I didn’t trust him, but because I didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

[McBadgere]

Fair dues... ...I like a good bit 'o' smithing talk...The whole discussion of how to improve/strengthen her armour while doing nothing to change it was excellent... ...

Bryn was excellent...Athynae was excellent!!...

Thoroughly enjoyed the whole thing!....

“Are ye e’er wrong, lass?”

“Nope. I thought I was once but I was mistaken.” And I raised an eyebrow.

...

Proper amazing writing...Always...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[haute ecole rider]

Love the exchange between Bryn and Thyna here. It really shows the depth of their relationship and how strongly he feels about this not-so-frail Dunmer lass! And I'm glad to see her taking Seth's advice to work on her defense more seriously!

This:

“A what? Um, no I do not wish to wander through the wilderness with a serving platter attached to my arm, thank you.”

“Ye may find yerself on one be ye not more careful next time.” Bryn accentuated the statement with lift of a bushy eyebrow.

is my favorite part of the whole thing - 'Thyna's attitude about shields and Bryn's response are wonderful here. Add to that Bryn's use of a certain mannerism also used by a certain *ahm* Redguard pilus just adds to the delight here.

SGM!

[minque]

They said it all! I could repeat what McBadgere and hautie said but I won't!

this is fan fic at its best! Love it!

S.G.M

[treydog]

No, not new story- at least not yet. But these responses from Athynae deserve their own post, so....

First of all thank you for tolerating yet another round of RL, couple of surgeries, birth of first grandson, complications with second surgery and now allergic reaction to something at work...and the beat goes on...but being able to see the words from all of you has been great medicine so I truly appreciate the time you put in to read.

@Minque- as ever you are my inspiration, without you Thyna would not even be here. It is a grand feeling to know that she continues to have your support. Your words are always a treat. Thanks Mother.

@Haute- I have to say I had inspiration on the healing musings from *something* I read somewhere a while back and it hit home...every time something is said about 'magical' healing I think about that and sort of become mesmerized by the process...so thank you for that. Also thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts, they are treasured words. As are the other words I now have to read...in my spare time.

@McB- What to say to my dear friend that hasn't already been said???? It is my mission to make you laugh...well not just you but I'm am elated that you find the warrior princess funny. (She reminds me at times of a teenage girl I know, hhhmmm? I could be talking about yours or mine) Thanks furry burrow dweller, I am ever in your debt.

@Grits- Yes, she is too hard on herself, she has always been too hard on herself, just her make-up, it certainly isn't because anyone was too hard on her. She took on the mantle at a young age for reasons that may come to light here or in the Princess thread. She was born with her own agenda and will not stray from it. We shall see where it goes from here and I am so happy you are making the journey with us.

Thanks everyone, very much, for your loyalty, even as I have dropped the ball in reading and keeping up with your wonderful stories. I will catch up, I will, it just might take a while. I do love all of your stories so much.

[Grits]

Bryn’s eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline and he was scratching his head with one hand and pulling his beard with the other.

No wonder after that list of demands! But of course that’s exactly what she needs, and of course Bryn will reach new heights in his craft while doing it. How very Athynae.

This whole section was pure enjoyment to read.