Teresa of the Faint Smile, Adventures of a Stringy Bosmer Options

[treydog]

10a

The entire description of the armies arrayed against each other should have been a cut-scene in the game. I mean, we are talking about the Empire here! Why wouldn’t they call back some of the Legions? Holding Morrowind or other frontier conquests is kind of meaningless if Marooned Dragon eats Cyrodiil. Even if we cannot play Oblivion as we do Rome: Total War, it would be nice to see a nod to the level of effort put forth to preserve the Empire- or are we to believe that the player character is the only asset available?

10b

Loved the banter and the tactical discussion, as well. Still, I think the windy prelate would have done better with a more inspiring speech or perhaps a simple motto-

Cf: “They can tak oor lives, but they canna tak oor troosers!" Terry Pratchett

10c

Good tactics- the Imperial army has to make use of their greater organization and mobility.

Ahh, Pappy- sometimes even the best make mistakes. That was a costly one, I fear.

10d

Julian- and old habits!

Just like a woman …. Tadrose was the same way, he thought, all women were. Damn sneaky.

Over the Hills and Far Away- excuse me, a bit of chaff must have blown into my eyes. I’ll be just a minute….

10e

Through the terrific din she could hear shouts as well. "Kvatch! Kvatch!"

Ah yes, just as the Union troops shouted, “Fredericksburg, Fredericksburg” after rebuffing Pickett’s Charge.

10f

Knowing how many of these people will not make it back is a terrible burden…. But it is a part of the story that we must remember. For every Hero of Kvatch, there are a dozen or more Menien Gonelds…

10g

An excellent fight- better than the FG could have hoped for- short and sharp.

10h

"Because there are two kinds of people in this world son," the grey-haired Imperial explained, "those who have bows, and those who dig."

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly FTW!

The deaths of Njall and Aissa certainly fit with what I have experienced in the few FG quests where you have “help.” They either run ahead and get overwhelmed or get in the way and block your shot/spell/swing (grumble- grumble).

10i

Teresa Raven-Wing saves Pappy’s [British Boat] is the auto-censor term, I believe.

As Pappy moved in, the Breton neatly tripped the dremora after working a foot behind its ankle and shoving with his shield.

Yup, it’s about leverage.

10j

Started to make some (half) witty remark, but realized how out of place it would be. The conclusion was magnificent and tragic. And the wonderful cinematic way it spirals down from the vast field of the dead and injured to one woman mourning over the body of one man…. Kurosawa could not have done it better.


Testosterone- pffft. I am too old a doggie to look forward to battles. They are frequently necessary, but never pleasurable. Which does not mean that your descriptions failed to stir my blood or cause me to elevate my dachshund snout to the sky to catch the scent of cordite.

[D.Foxy]

Kurosawa could not have done it better.

So you're a fan too!!!!

Me strongly agrees....

[SubRosa]

hazmick: Thank you haz. You never know what might be in Teresa's future. She does seem to have a thing for innkeepers though, especially the Altmer ones...


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. I was thinking of Buffy and Parwen when I wrote this. You were quite right about 'its' pace as well.


haute ecole rider: Thank you haute. Teresa is attracted to Methredhel. Then again, she is attracted to all well, attractive women. So she is not really being left out, just seeing something she likes.


Olen: Thank you Olen. Spot on with the numbering of the chapter. I always copy and paste from the previous heading to save time, sometimes I forget to edit the increment.


D.Foxy: Teresa is not really in love with Methredhel. She is just attracted to women, and Methredhel is a woman, a moderately good-looking one at that, and was naked and soaking wet at Teresa's feet. I see many people had the same impression you did though, so I went back to reword things a bit to try to make it seem more like ordinary lust.


Kazaera: Thank you Kaz. I focus on characterization over plot, so to me why characters do things is extremely important. I also learned a long time ago while playing pen and paper RPGs that the more personally involved the characters are in what is going on, the larger impact it has.


treydog: Yay, someone recognized the "Fredericksburg!" nod. That is exactly what I was thinking of when I wrote the "Kvatch!" warcry of the Imperials. I was tempted to show a knight dragging a dremora standard behind his horse at the end as well, but there was just too much going on that I did not want to clutter it up with over-descriptions.

Nice to see someone else who knows Over the Hills and Far Away as well. I was doing one of my annual watchings of the Sharpes Rifles series, which has burned that song into my head with the amazing vocals of John Tams (whom the character Hirtuleus is based upon).

I am also a big Kurosawa fan, so thank you for the comparison. The Seven Samurai is one of my favorite movies. There is even an anime series based off it called Samurai Seven that is quite good as well.


Next: We turn back the clock ten years, and meet an eight year old Teresa.

* * *

Chapter 15.3 - Old Friends, Not Forgotten

Teresa slumped against the faded and peeling white-wash of an insula wall. The chipped stone was hard against her back, as were the cobbles underneath her, but at least it was out of the blazing Last Seed sun. Wiping the sweat from her pale brow, she drew back the long, tangled brown hair from her face and looked out into the street.

Mortals of all varieties bustled along the avenue. Patricians in their fine garb, artisans and shopkeepers in clean linens, laborers in worn flax, and finally street urchins like herself in ragged sackcloth. The wealthier took great pains to not notice her, while the poorer openly stared. Probably because of my wan skin, the Bosmer child thought to herself, people always gawked at that.

Most were making their way to or from the wide entrance of the Arena at the other side of the street. Unlike the crumbling tenement that she sheltered against, it was a gleaming structure of polished white marble and limestone that rose in three tiers. Each was as tall as a three-story insula, and was lined with archways that created an arcade encircling the amphitheater. Framing the archways were half columns and golden statues of dragons, eagles, wolves, and other predators, all rising high into the summer sky.

The main entrance was at least fifty feet wide, and faced White Gold Tower to the west. Over it towered the largest statue of all. This was of a bearded Redguard wearing archaic-looking armor and holding a longsword in both hands, point hovering over the tunnel leading into the circular building. Smaller entrances curved away to either side, ringing the entire structure like the holes in a piece of Skyrim cheese. From all of them people streamed in and out of the Arena in a never ending flow.

Casting her gaze higher, Teresa could see the canvas sheets of the retractable dome bunched up at the top of the Arena's wall, and knew that the great amphitheatre had been left open to the clear sky today. Given the shouts and cheers she could hear welling up from within, she imagined that the folk within were enjoying the sun.

For not the first time she wondered how it was that the Imperials did not seem to mind the heat. Frowning down at the reddened skin along her forearms, she wished that she had been born with their olive complexion. They hardly ever seemed to get sunburned. Yet after only a few hours under Magnus' fiery eye she was always red as a lobster.

"You!" A distinctly elven voice brought her head up to see an ashen-skinned Dunmer striding toward her. "It's you! I know it!"

Out of habit, Teresa's eyes darted from one side to the other. There were crates piled up to her right, blocking any escape. But the way to the left was open…

"You thought you could trick me did you!" The dark elf exclaimed, and Teresa bolted. She had no idea who the Dunmer was, or what he wanted, and was not about to wait around to find out. She heard feet slapping on the cobblestones behind her, and darted into the first alley that cut through the insula wall.

Hard fingers clamped down around the neck of her rough tunic, and the young Bosmer was jerked to a sudden halt. Gasping for breath as the sackcloth dug into her throat, she vainly clawed at the hand that held her in place. Yet she could not reach back far enough to reach it. Then a moment later she felt another powerful mitt grasp a handful of her hair and shove her into the stone wall of the alley.

Stars danced before her eyes as her skull bounced off the unyielding rock. When the world swam back into view, the dark form of the Dunmer loomed over her, eyes glowing like red pools of fire. But it was the silvery glint of bared steel that caught the child's gaze. The long, slender blade glittered as it hovered above her face, just inches from her pale skin. Teresa felt warm liquid spread down from her waist as she waited for it to sink into her flesh.

"You had better piss yourself you little Witch!" the Dunmer hissed like an angry serpent. "Don't think that I don't know what you're up to."

"Please sir," Teresa blurted out, trying to sound as innocent and helpless as possible. "I didn't do anything! I'm just a kid!"

"Oh, that's what you all want us to think, isn't it?" Teresa's emerald eyes were fixed upon the hard blade of the knife as it moved back and forth in front of her face. "Just a little girl is it? Only a child? You may have fooled the rest of them with your foul sorcery, but not Valen Dreth! I can see through you, all of you!"

"I don't know what-" the wood elf was cut off as the man's free hand wrapped around her throat and clamped down hard. Her eyes bulged from their sockets as she fought for air, and her hands pulled against his own. Yet he seemed made of iron, and she nothing but chaff. There was no relenting of his death grip.

"Don't try to lie to me!" the ashen-skinned man's voice was loud as thunder in Teresa's ears. "I know you cursed me! That's why every gladiator I bet on loses! It's all your fault, yours! You Witches have always had it in for me, but I know how to deal with you!"

"What's going on back there?" The low growl came from the mouth of the alley. In an instant the iron bands of the Dunmer's fingers disappeared from Teresa's throat, and the glittering steel of his blade vanished into one of his flaxen sleeves. He took a moment to smile at Teresa, and the little wood elf imagined that was how a slaughterfish looked when it bared its teeth. Then he turned to face the Imperial Legionary standing behind him.

"Oh nothing." Now the dark elf's voice was smooth and carefree, like a playful wind on a cool Spring day. His hand dipped into a pocket, and darted forth like quicksilver a moment later to toss a copper reman at Teresa. "I was just doing my part to help this poor unfortunate here, praise merciful Stendarr."

"Move along citizen." The soldier continued to glare at the Dunmer, who now stepped away. He paused a moment to glance back at Teresa, and the daggers in his eyes spoke volumes. Then he stepped lightly into the street beyond, and disappeared into the crowds.

"And you…" Now the legionary lowered his steely gaze to Teresa's shaking form, and she could swear that she could see his lip curl in disgust through the slit in his helmet. "You filthy little degenerate. Don't think I don't know what you are up to. Too young to join the prostitutes guild, so your selling yourself in the alleys. Maybe they do that in Valenwood or Morrowind, but we don't tolerate that kind of depravity here in Cyrodiil!"

"But I'm not-"

"Don't back-talk your betters you point-ear trash!" Now a gauntleted fist wrapped itself around the sack cloth of her tunic and pressed her hard against the stone wall behind her. The Imperial leaned down close enough for the wood elf to smell the garlic on his breath. "You elves are no better than animals. Can't even use a latrine like a civilized Imperial. One more word out of you, and you'll be staring at the inside of the Imperial Prison, you little harlot! Do you understand me!"

Biting her lip, Teresa nodded vigorously. Her heart raced in her chest, and she prayed to Nocturnal that the legionary would leave her alone. Perhaps her desperate plea was heard, for a moment later the soldier released her from his steely grip and straightened.

"Now don't let me catch you at it again," the Imperial rumbled in a low tone, "or I'll see you pay for your depravity you foul little elf."

With a clank of metal on metal, the soldier was gone, leaving Teresa shaking and alone in the alley. Her knees turned to water, and the next thing she knew she was on the ground and weeping. Her throat ached from the Dunmer's strangling fingers, and the stink of urine rose from her dripping legs. Curling up into a ball on the broken pavestones, she wished Simplicia were there to hold her. Somehow, the old woman always knew how to make things better. Yet the old woman was all the way in the Market District, and Teresa was all alone…

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 30 2020, 02:15 AM

[hazmick]

seeing Valen Dreth makes me wish I had joined the dark brotherhood and kick his Dunmer behind straight back to morrowind. Then we all thought a nice, kind guard would save the day but no! he's no better Poor Teresa, the arena is no place for a beggar, the market district is way more profitable

My Argonain laughs at all the warm-blooded folk, suffering in the heat of Magnus' fire. You need to find a nice rock and absorb as much heat as you can, more fuel for begging

This post has been edited by hazmick: Aug 19 2010, 05:28 PM

[hazmick]

seeing Valen Dreth makes me wish I had joined the dark brotherhood and kick his Dunmer behind straight back to morrowind. Then we all thought a nice, kind guard would save the day but no! he's no better Poor Teresa, the arena is no place for a beggar, the market district is way more profitable

My Argonain laughs at all the warm-blooded folk, suffering in the heat of Magnus' fire. You need to find a nice rock and absorb as much heat as you can, more fuel for begging

[haute ecole rider]

You have really highlighted the racism that is rampant in TES (but barely glossed over in IV). Because she is a Bosmer makes her a witch and a harlot, even though she is too young to be either (and we know she is neither). The legionary probably stopped that Dreth because he didn't want to deal with the paperwork a homicide always seems to attract.

It also explains more of Teresa's initial dislike for all things Legion.

I am very interested in seeing more of Teresa's childhood.

[Acadian]

"And you…" Now the legionary lowered his steely gaze to Teresa's shaking form, and she could swear that she could see his lip curl in disgust through the slit in his helmet. "You filthy little degenerate. Don't think I don't know what you are up to. Too young to join the prostitutes guild, so your selling yourself in the alleys. Maybe they do that in Valenwood or Morrowind, but we don't tolerate that kind of depravity here in Cyrodiil!"

"But I'm not-"

"Don't back-talk your betters you point-ear trash!" Now a gauntleted fist wrapped itself around the sack cloth of her tunic and pressed her hard against the stone wall behind her. The Imperial leaned down close enough for the wood elf to smell the garlic on his breath. "You elves are no better than animals. Can't even use a latrine like a civilized Imperial. One more word out of you, and you'll be staring at the inside of the Imperial Prison, you little harlot! Do you understand me!"

Oh my. Now I certainly see where Teresa came by her almost panicky mistrust of the Legion. To top it all off, he gave her the worst insult of all - he teased her about her ears.

Don't worry too much about peeing yourself, Teresa. You're not the only elf that sometimes does that.

I won't say this was beautiful, because it wasn't - it was painful. It most certainly was beautifully written though. You certainly made Buffy's heart ache as we read this. She insisted I send Teresa this:

I'm so pleased you are popping back into Teresa's past and adding layers of depth and history to our pale elf.

This post has been edited by Acadian: Aug 19 2010, 06:44 PM

[Olen]

A dark little episode in her past certainly, it goes to show what made her who she was (and to an extent is) well. It also develops the world well, both in terms of the arena and the racism whouch would be huge in anywhere as mixed as the IC.

And yes, it certainly explains a general dislike of the legion, and to a extent civilisation in general.

Now when will Methy show up.

[MyCat]

Now I know why I love the Dark Brotherhood quest line. I started the game with his taunts. He needs to "atone" for that!

(Rufio, whom you must kill to join the Dark Brotherhood, also was worth killing once you learn of his crime.)

Sanguine!

[Destri Melarg]

Chapter 15.2 – Old Friends, Not Forgotten

Teresa’s awkwardness around Methredhel is perfectly rendered here. I echo Foxy’s comment on this chapter. Have you mentioned the dagger that Teresa found in Vilverin previously? I can’t recall. In any event, it worked beautifully to underscore the depth of Teresa’s feeling for the friend that she finds herself outgrowing.

I think I already knew that Teresa was born during Evening Star, but telling us that Methredhel was born during the month of Second Seed the way you did was just great.

“Good thing you didn’t turn invisible!” Teresa allowed a real smile to escape her lips as she though of the star sign the other woman had been born under. “If you passed out, no one would have ever found you.”

“Not until Hieronymous Lex tripped over me at least,”

My one observation is that the Moonshadow greater power renders one invisible once a day for 60 seconds. The way you have written it makes it sound like the effect would last much longer. Was that your intention?

Chapter 15.3 – Old Friends, Not Forgotten

Rashomon is my favorite Kurosawa film. Don’t shoot me, but I actually like The Magnificent Seven more than The Seven Samurai (Steve McQueen and James Coburn FTW).

About this chapter:
Even without the italics you bring us into the flashback beautifully. The Last Seed sun tells us the time of year, and Teresa’s ‘tangled brown hair’ sets the action firmly in the past (even before her description as ‘a child’).

I am a little surprised that Teresa didn’t recognize Valen Dreth when he occupied the cell across from her way back in Chapter 2a. You would think that his voice would have been branded into her memory, given their history. I am also wondering if the bigoted legionary is a familiar face as well. It would certainly explain his attitude toward Teresa later in her life.

[treydog]

And now I return to my regular spamming. However, I am getting closer to being caught up. With this story. And then there are a dozen others.

11a

Teresa’s return to the City shows that many things have changed- especially her perceptions and her confidence. But one thing remains the same:

All of her worries slipped away as Simplicia held her close. It was as if she has stepped out of the world for a moment, and into a land where nothing else mattered.

11b

An excellent contrast between Teresa, who has been out in the world and seen things changing, versus Simplicia, who has not. However, that does not mean we think less of Simplicia- her hard-won wisdom was earned at a terrible price- and she kept Teresa alive to become who she is now.

And, as with the Battle of Bruma, your vision of the triumphal entry by Martin and Julian is much more satisfying than the in-game version.

11c

Wow. Even though I suspected what was going to happen when Simplicia suggested going to Jensine's, the attack still made me jump. And I felt that Teresa’s momentary paralysis was spot-on, as well. It is one thing to be “ready” when searching an Ayleid ruin- quite another to respond to danger that appears out of nowhere while you are on “familiar” ground. But she has her bow in hand now- and someone is going to pay.

11d

The fight in the shop is even more vivid than before. And the final line is still one the all-time best in TES fan-fiction. The fact that Teresa is (relatively) calm until the scamp attacks Simplicia says a great deal about our Bosmeri forester.

11e

This whole installment sings to me, none more than this line:

What do you do when the monster of your childhood saves your life? she wondered.

Teresa’s knowledge of what has gone before puts her in an odd position- she perhaps feels just a hint of what Morcant felt….

11f

Fights do not always go the way we want them to; not all bullies are cowards; and sometimes, evil does triumph. And even when we win, the cost can be terribly high. Every line of this installment carried the realism and anguish of a life-and-death struggle. Teresa’s reverie upon seeing Jensine’s living space reminds me of Private Blythe looking at the edelweiss in Band of Brothers.

11g

How appropriate that it is Simplicia who releases the guardian bear when her cub is threatened!

And the “small” fight in the shop makes Martin’s final words so much more meaningful.

His death and the fight by the “common folk” personifies something Louis XIV actually said (rather than “I am the State”);

“I depart, but the State [Empire] shall always remain.”

11h

And Teresa’s question from 11e finds its answer- “You save the monster’s life in return.”

Just reading this chapter was a draining, wrenching experience. How you managed to survive writing it….

[SubRosa]

hazmick: Thank you hazmick. Your remark about the Argonian made me laugh out loud!


haute ecole rider: Thank you haute. One thing I have always tried to focus on with the TF was the gritty underbelly of life in the IC. I am glad the petty hatred, viciousness, and apathy is showing through. Plenty more Young Teresa Chronicles coming up!


Acadian: Thank you old paladin. I always feel so bad for little Teresa when I read through that scene, as it really puts her at her worst. Thankfully things will get better for her soon!

I did not really think about the ears, but that certainly hit one of Buffy's vulnerabilities did it not? "Round-Ear", "Point-Ear" always sounded like a reasonable form of slang to exist for humans and elves, because the ears are such an obvious point of difference.


Olen: Thank you Olen. One of the things I have always wanted to show was the Arena District houses more than just the arena, but is also the low-class neighborhood of the IC (but not as low as the Waterfront). This chapter has given me an excellent opportunity to show the Arena District in all of its shabby glory.


MyCat: Hello Kitty! I am glad Teresa's run-in with Valen Dreth struck a chord with you.


Destri Melarg: I am not sure if I ever brought out what Teresa's star sign was. I have always wanted to do so in a way that was natural, and that segment gave me the perfect opportunity to do so for both her and Methredhel.

I am extending the durations of all the spells and other magical effects in the game. With the much larger world I have, 30 second spells just do not cut it. Teresa would have needed a tanker truck full of feather potions to carry her loot from Vilverin to the IC. So I am measuring most in the forms of minutes or hours. Likewise with the once a day powers, I am not decided if those will be multiple uses instead, which is how I modded my game to do them.

Don't stone me, but my favorite version of the Magnificent Seven was actually the t.v. show in the late 90's, with Micheal Biehn and Ron Perlman

I hemmed and hawed over Teresa recognizing Dreth in the cell. But in the end I decided that I do not want to go back and change too much if I can avoid it (this chapter already has me changing something else, I do not want to overdo it). Plus, chapter 2 already has a lot going on in it already, and I really do not want to bog it down with something extra that will take the focus off her meeting the Emperor. Rest assured though, Teresa's memory will be jogged at some point.


treydog: Thank you dog. I (re)wrote most of that chapter in a single burst of inspiration, where I sat and typed for about 9 hours or so. When it was done, I was exhausted!

Next: Methredhel.


* * *

Chapter 15.4 - Old Friends, Not Forgotten

The sun had slipped past the noon-day mark by the time Teresa roused herself. Something bright caught her eye, and her gaze fell upon the glittering coin that the madman had thrown at her before leaving. She felt her stomach growl as her long, slender fingers snatched up the copper bit from the stones and made it disappear into her tunic. That would buy a piece of bread, she thought, so at least something good had come out of the horrific morning.

Sparing only a glance at the entrance to the alley, she scampered down to its far end. The legionary might still be lurking in the street outside, she knew, or the dark elf. She did not want to run into either one again. So moving quietly, eyes darting to and fro for danger, she cautiously made her way through the tenements, brothels, smithies, and tanneries of the Arena District.

Finally she came to the looming grey wall separating the district from the Palace District at the heart of the city. A moat of glittering water pooled at the base of the wall, bridged only by a brooding gatehouse. Legionaries in dark plate guarded the entryway, and Teresa quickly turned away, lest any of them notice her.

Making her way along the waist-high stone wall that edged the moat, the wood elf came to an opening in the barrier. A flight of steps led to the water below, and Teresa followed them down to a narrow landing that stretched along the outer edge of the moat. She had no idea why the Imperials built them there. Maybe so people who fell in could get out?

In any case she paused only briefly to look at the green lily pads that dotted the surface of the water. Alongside them bobbed flowers with ivory petals that radiated from sun-gold centers, like elegant little ships. Then the street urchin slipped into the long, narrow pool and let the water enfold her in its cool embrace.

Gripping the edge of the stone landing, she dunked her head under the waves. Opening her eyes, she could see the stone bottom of the moat just a few feet beneath her. Would she ever get big enough to stand up without the water being over her head? she wondered. Lifting her head above the water, she gulped for breath and pulled her hair back from her face.

"Hey kitten, are you crazy!" The voice of an adult snapped her head up. Peering over the low stone wall above was a Khajiit wearing a red linen vest. Teresa recognized him as one of the felines who worked in the Black Horse Courier, but she could not tell which one he was. "Get out of there before you catch your death. That water is filled with diseases!"

Teresa looked around. The water was clear, and cool, and did not look diseased to her eight year-old eyes. Still, she pulled herself up onto the stone landing and wrung the water out of her hair. It was never good when grown-ups took notice of you, she knew. Whenever they did, it was always best to humor them until they ignored you again. Otherwise bad things could happen.

When she looked back up the Khajiit was gone. She thought about slipping back into the water, but her stomach growled again, and made up her mind for her. Striding up the steps to the street above, she felt the hot sun bake upon her features. She would dry off in no time at all, she thought, and at least now she was clean.

Making her way to the gate between the Arena and Market Districts, the young wood elf darted behind a group of workmen leading a donkey cart loaded with crates. The legionaries standing guard at the portal did not give her a second glance as she followed the cart through the dark tunnel cut into the massive gatehouse. Emerging from the other side, Teresa scampered away and into an alley.

Moving through the mounds of garbage and empty crates, the urchin soon came to an intersection with another alley. To her left she could see it let out into the crowds on Market Way, to her right it went to a smaller cross street. But it was from ahead that the sound of racing feet came to her ears.

Without thinking, Teresa ducked into a pile of crates piled up in the alley to the right. Peering out through the worn boards, she saw a pair of Bosmer girls - no older than herself - dart into the intersection. Their eyes were wide with fright, and their breath coming in ragged gasps. Teresa knew that look all too well. They were being chased.

"Quick, over here!" Teresa hissed, rising to her feet and waving at the two girls. Their eyes locked with hers, and instantly they raced for the safety of the crates behind her. The sound of footsteps followed them into the intersection, and the young wood elf looked over to see an Imperial clad in brown pants and a quilted doublet bound into view.

"Where did they go?" The man demanded, staring at Teresa. The street urchin swallowed hard. The look of fury that creased the man's olive features sent shivers running through her. She tried to speak, but her tongue was a stone in her mouth. Pointing a finger behind her, she nodded in the same direction and hoped the Imperial got the message.

"I'll catch you!" the man shouted as he barreled down the alley past Teresa and the two hidden Bosmer. "You can't steal from the Three Brothers and get away with it!"

Teresa stared as the Imperial sped off, and waited until he was out of sight before turning back to the crates. "It's safe now," she said, "he's gone."

The other two girls crawled from the jumble of wooden boxes and stood before Teresa. Both had hair as brown as her own, but unlike her skin, theirs was a normal, fair, tone. One was a little taller than the other, and had eyes as green as Teresa's. She wore a pair of roughly stitched leather pants and a plain tunic of worn linen. The other had eyes the color of the clear sky. She was clothed in a dress of dark green flax, and fidgeted with her hair.

"Thanks," said the larger one. "You're alright."

"Yeah," the shorter one agreed. "You really saved our butts. That guy was so furious!"

"Why?" Teresa wondered, already sure of the answer.

"I stole a potion from his shop!" The larger one grinned, now producing a small vial filled with blue liquid. Teresa could see a raised spiral on the side of the glass, and wondered if that told what kind of potion it was. "But someone saw the bottle moving, so my invisibility went out. So we had to run for it!"

"Wow!" Teresa's eyes widened. "You can turn invisible?" She wondered what it would be like to do magical things like that, or simply to have the courage to do something so daring as to steal right from a shop. The only time she had ever tried something similar had ended painfully, and her tongue reflexively sought out the empty space between her back teeth at the thought.

"I was born under the sign of the Shadow." The taller one slid the potion back into a pocket. "My name is Methredhel, and I'm nine. This is Adanrel, she's eight."

"We're in a gang." the shorter one - named Adanrel - declared. "The Dandy Bandits!"

"No," the taller one - Methredhel - argued. "The Tamriel Terrors!" Then she turned back to look at Teresa, who was watching them both with a befuddled look upon her pale features. "We still haven't decided what to call it yet. So what's your name?"

"I'm Teresa," the street urchin answered, "I'm eight too." Simplicia had always warned her about staying away from gangs. Yet the two Bosmer girls did not seem anything like the bands of thugs who roamed the street and preyed upon others.

"You're hair's icky," Adanrel said suddenly, "who does it?"

Teresa felt her cheeks turn warm, and stared down at the cobblestones under her feet. She tried to say something back to the other girl, but once again her tongue was frozen in her mouth. Instead she raised a hand to the stringy mess of her hair and frowned.

"I think your hair looks fine," Methredhel filled the silence with her own voice, "but maybe Adanrel can fix it up some for you. She knows all about girly stuff like that."

"I'm gonna be a courtesan when I grow up," the other girl declared, striking a pose that Teresa imagined was supposed to be regal. "My mom's in the Prostitutes Guild, and she knows people."

Teresa did not know what to say. Again, it was Methredhel who filled the silence.

"You don't talk much do you Teresa." It was more of a statement than a question, and the young wood elf shrugged her shoulders in response. "That's ok. My dad's a mercenary archer. He says that to make a kill, you have to be completely silent and still, at one with your surroundings. He taught me how to shoot. I can teach you too."

"You can?" Teresa could not contain the words that blurted from her mouth. She gaped at the older girl. Her, use a bow, like all the wood elves from the bard's tales? It felt as impossible as her becoming the next Empress. Yet the more she pictured herself holding a bow, drawing its string back to her ear, and loosing an arrow, the more it felt… right. What would Simplicia say if she became an archer? The old woman would be so amazed!

"Yep, I can," the older girl insisted. "I've got a bow and everything. We live in the Arena District, but my dad takes me down to the Waterfront to practice."

"Wow that would be great!" Teresa breathed, her mind awhirl with the thought of using a bow.

"You'll have to join our gang first though." Methredhel said.

"Who else is in it?" Teresa wondered aloud.

"It's just us." Adanrel said proudly. "We're a special gang. We don't let just anyone in."

"Oh," Teresa said, beginning to understand just what kind of 'gang' it really was. She had to stifle the urge to crook a smile at the innocence of the other two girls. For all their talk, and even the theft, she could see that neither one of them really know what life was like on the street. Not the way she did. Still, she liked the look in Methredhel's eyes. It was honest and kind, things she did not see directed at her very often.

"Come on Teresa," Methredhel said, hooking one arm around the pale elf's waist and the other around Adanrel's. "Let's go sell this potion and get something to eat.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 30 2020, 02:17 AM

[hazmick]

"I'm gonna be a courtesan when I grow up," the other girl declared, striking a pose that Teresa imagined was supposed to be regal. "My mom's in the Prostitutes Guild, and she knows people."

This was brilliant, Adanrel in my mind was...the less intelligent member of their gang?

The 'Dandy Bandits' or the 'Tamriel Terrors', the eternal question. How about 'The Waterfront Wanderers' or 'Waterfront Witches'?

This post has been edited by hazmick: Aug 21 2010, 08:48 PM

[Acadian]

I'm delighted you are going to spend some time on 'Little Teresa'. Heh, makes me think of little Archie and Veronica from the comics. You know me and I know you when it comes to character development - so of course you realize that you can linger here as long as you care to.

A beautiful story - and FUN. Their youth allows you to really inject some cuteness into the girls.

"My mom's in the Prostitutes Guild, and she knows people."

Well, there you go! One could certainly not ask for a higher endorsement than this! And it seems Little Adanrel is the fashionista for the gang.

Lucky Methy! Nine years old and she gets to disappear because of her birthsign. I'm sure the others are jealous of that!

So, looks like Little Teresa will be joining a gang and perhaps getting to shoot a real bow! Hmm. . . Naughty Nightshades?

I see you let us know that this episode took place shortly after Teresa's first encounter with Vols (eight years old, missing tooth - ouch).

[haute ecole rider]

Ahh, gang names!

Dandy Bandits, Tamriel Terrors, Naughty Nightshades? Hmm. Bosmer Brigands?

I enjoyed this, especially how Teresa diverted the shop owner (Sergius, Tertullian or Cicero?) from the other two girls.

The silliness they all possess is precious!

[MyCat]

"But it was from ahead that the sound racing feet came to her ears."
Did a member of the Thieves' Guild abscond with an "of"?

Edit: This scene is so sweet. And poor Adanrel is still a loser. I have a soft spot for Methredhel, she's just cool. (I'm in love with Dynari Amnis though )

This post has been edited by MyCat: Aug 22 2010, 04:58 AM

[SubRosa]

hazmick: Thank you hazmick. Adanrel is indeed the least brightest of the bunch. I am afraid any "waterfront" names are out, as it will be years before any of the girls will be living on the Waterfront.


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. I am glad it was fun, I wanted Methredhel and Adanrel to come across that way. Unlike Teresa, the two of them had the chance to actually be children.


haute ecole rider: I shopped at the Three Brothers just the other day. I'm not sure which one I spoke to though... Seriously, I can never keep them straight, neither would our three bosmer girls.

I like the Bosmer Brigands. I will have to try to work that in too. Maybe the Three Bosmer as well.


MyCat: Yep, looks like the Grey Fox swooped in and stole my word! Thank you for retrieving it for me.

I have always had a soft spot for Methredhel. You are quite right about Adanrel, she was a loser even back then!


Next: Little Teresa returns to the Arena District, and bumps into someone unexpected...


* * *

Chapter 15.5 - Old Friends, Not Forgotten

Teresa dodged through the crowds in front of the Fighters Guild hall on Sword Avenue - the main road that curved through the Arena District. The street was always busy with people going to and from the Arena, making it a good place for begging. But today she was looking for the insula where Methredhel had said that she and Adanrel lived in. It should be just past the guildhall, she recalled, and to the right.

Craning her neck to stare up at the battered four and five story tenements that lined the street, she looked for the one with the broken dragon's head above the entrance to its atrium. The next thing she knew, she stumbled into something hard and metallic. Pain blossomed where her cheek met steel, and she cried out in spite of herself.

"Hey kid, you alright?" Looking up, she found that the gentle voice belonged to a fair-skinned Imperial with sea-blue eyes. Must be a Colovian, the wood elf found herself musing as she stared. His black hair was cropped short, and his features were square and rugged, what most women seemed to call handsome. "You gotta watch where you're going girl, or you'll get flattened."

His body was girded in the dark plate armor of the Imperial Legion, and Teresa's heart leapt into her throat when she recognized it. Unlike most legionaries however, his breastplate was inlaid with shining gold formed into the image of a laurel. Also, unlike the rounded pommels that regular soldiers had on their weapons, the one on his arming sword was wide, and shaped like a row of lobes stretching out to either side of the grip. A leather pack was slung across his back, and he balanced a long duffel bag over one shoulder. He wore no helmet, and a red amulet hung from his neck. Shaped like a shield, it bore the image of a white sword point down across its face.

Her heart eased its pounding at the sight of the amulet. He was Fighters Guild, she realized, not a legionary.

"Damn Vitellus, first day in the guild and you're at it already." The harsh tones came from a dark elf standing beside the fighter. He wore one of the guild amulets as well, but his plate armor of a different style. The kind worn by knights and other adventurers rather than soldiers. His red eyes burned like angry coals, and his head was topped with black hair that was cut into a single, long stripe down the length of his skull. A cliffracer, Teresa thought, having seen many other Dunmer men wearing their hair that way. "I heard you had an eye for women, but can't you at least wait until they grow up?"

"Sit on it and spin ash-face." The Colovian's voice was no longer the gentle tone that he had addressed Teresa with, but instead a hard as nails. Turning to the other man, he made a rude gesture with his forearm.

Teresa took the opportunity to dart around the legs of the fighter, and raced back into the crowded street behind him. She thought she heard the Colovian call out behind her, but could not tell for certain in the noise of the traffic. He had not seemed cruel, but she was not going to stick around to find out if she was wrong. Slipping her way through the masses, she quickly put distance between herself and the two mercenaries.

Finally, when she was a block away, she slowed and began to scan the insulas rising to the side of the boulevard once more. All showed chipped white-wash, loose stones, broken shutters, and other signs of disrepair. The same as everything else here in the Arena District, Teresa thought. Except for the Arena itself of course. That was where all the money was after all.

At last she spied a familiar head of brown hair on one side of the road. Allowing a faint smile to crest her lips, Teresa dodged her way through the traffic, and was halfway across the street when the hair's owner came into full view. It was Methredhel, sitting on a stoop and eating an apple. Beside her was Adanrel, holding a mirror up to her face and making faces into it.

Methredhel's eyes settled upon her, and Teresa was gratified by the way they lit in recognition. A wide grin crested the other girl's features, and she lifted her arm to wave Teresa over. Then a cart clattered past, obscuring the two girls from view. Teresa waited for it to pass, but when it was gone she found something else blocking her path.

"Well, well, look who we have here." It was the same dark elf from the day before. He stared down at Teresa like a starving dog eying a piece of raw meat. The bright flash of steel came from his right hand, and he stepped forward, reaching out with his left. "Time for Valen's luck to change!"

Teresa gulped as he stretched out to her. Her legs knew what to do however, and before she knew it she was racing pell mell down the street. Dodging between people, she called up all the speed her feet could muster. From the angry and surprised cries behind her, she knew that the Dunmer was in hot pursuit.

For once she was thankful for her child's stature. Thanks to being small, she was able to slip between people in the crowd with ease. While a glance over her shoulder revealed that the much larger Dunmer had to push and shove his way through the crowd, slowing him down. Still, that size of his meant that Teresa had to take at least two steps to match only one of his. She would have to not only be fast, she knew, but find some way to outwit him in the gaggle of people on the street.

With that in mind she veered toward a fruit stand on the sidewalk, near an insula wall. Stepping onto a crate, she launched herself into the air and dove headfirst into the fruit. Apples, pears, oranges, and lemons went flying as she crashed into the wooden frame of the display case. Pain wracked through her hands and chest as they smashed into the hickory bin, and she tumbled to an even harder landing on the stone cobbles of the street beyond.

Absolute pandemonium broke out in the street behind her. Teresa did not pause to watch however. Clawing her way to her feet, she tore off down the road while the fruit vendor screamed curses behind her, mixed in with numerous other shouts of anger and disbelief. Another loud clatter told the young wood elf's ears that her pursuer had run afoul of the mess, and she prayed to Nocturnal that it would keep him long enough for her to disappear.

The street opened up before her then, allowing the street urchin to pour on all the speed her little frame could muster in a straight dash. However, she knew that would make her easier to see as well, and as soon as her eyes picked out an alley, she raced for it.

"Run you little Witch! Run!' the voice of the Dunmer rang out behind her, like the cackle of a mad rooster. "I'm coming for you!"

Teresa fought for breath as she darted between the narrow walls of the alley. Her body ached from her desperate leap, and her lungs felt like they were on fire. She had to lose him quick, she knew, or she was done for. The hard slap of feet behind her told her that the madman was gaining on her. There was no time to lose.

Then the alley let out into another cross street. A crow winged across her eyes, diving low near the pavement and squawking in a shrill tone. As she watched, it winged down between the wheels of a wagon that rolled down the street, only to rise back into the air on the other side a moment later. A line of other wains clattered down the thoroughfare behind it, all piled high with barrels of what Teresa imagined might be wine or ale for the nearby Arena.

Not thinking about what she was doing, the young wood elf ran directly for the line of vehicles. Their spoked wheels were a blur of motion, growing larger with every step. The horses pulling them seemed like snorting giants, their iron-shod feet striking up a clatter on the hard stones under foot. Still she raced on, until she was only a step from the small caravan.

Just as the bird had done, Teresa dove between the metal-rimmed wheels of the nearest wagon. The noise was terrific, assailing the wood elf's ears like the roar of thunder. Rolling along the hard cobbles of the street, pain once more lanced into her arms and chest. The flashing of spokes filled her vision, and she paused a moment to allow the back of the back wheels of the wagon to pass by just inches in front of her face.

Then daylight greeted Teresa's eyes, and she scrambled to her feet as the next wagon bore down upon her. She heard the driver shout, and the pair of horses pulling the conveyance let out a loud whinny. They were so close that their spittle flew across her cheek, and their strong odor filled her nostrils.

But her feet were on the ground again, and her knees pushed her onward, off the street and into the safety of the raised sidewalk beyond the center of the road. She saw a pile of waist-high hemp baskets against the wall of a laundry, and raced into them. Tearing the lid from one, she leapt inside and pulled it shut behind her.

Covering her lips to quiet the sound of her breathing, she forced herself not to gulp air from her mouth, but rather to breathe through her nose. Quiet, she told herself, don't make a sound. Otherwise he would hear her. If he did, it was all over.

Daring to push the lid of the basket high enough to create a crack, she peered out into the street. The wagons had gone now, and the Dunmer came jogging into view. He was gasping for breath, and doubled over for a moment. Then he straightened again, casting his eyes from one end of the street to the other.

Teresa's heart leapt into her throat when his eyes seemed to settle upon her. She bit her palm to keep from screaming, and felt her bowels begin to loosen once more. But a moment later the madman looked away, and sprinted down the street after the wagons.

Teresa breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed into the floor of the basket. Her entire body ached from bumps, bruises, and scrapes. She trembled all over, and felt her eyes moisten with tears. Why was he after her? she wondered. She had never even seen that dark elf before, what had she ever done to him?

A pair of muffled voices came to her ears, and she felt the basket momentarily rise, then fall back to the ground. She could not restrain a startled yelp. A moment later the lid was pulled away, and Teresa blinked in the bright sunlight that framed the heads of two Imperial women wearing aprons.

"What are you doing in here little one!" one of the olive-skinned women declared. "Get out of there before I tan your backside! Run along and play somewhere else."

Crawling from the basket, Teresa scurried away on shaking legs while the washer-women shook their heads behind her. Then a soft hand clapped on her shoulder, and a comforting voice filled her ears.

"Teresa, are you alright?" It was Methredhel! Turning, she found the older girl standing beside her with a look of worry marring her soft features. Behind her stood Adanrel, with one hand over her chest, trying hard to catch her breath. "I can't believe you did that! You could have been killed!"

"I would have if that man had caught me." Teresa breathed. She felt herself start to shake even harder. Then Methredhel's arms wrapped around her and pulled her close.

"Hey, it's ok, you're safe now. You got away," the other elf whispered into her ear.

"It's not ok!" Teresa was surprised by the emotion that burst from her lips. "One day he's gonna catch me, and he's gonna kill me! What am I gonna do!"

"Who is that guy anyway?" Adanrel asked now. "What did he catch you doing?"

"Nothing, I didn't steal nothing, if that's what you're thinking." Teresa spat back at the other girl. "I don't know who he is. He's crazy. He showed up the other day calling me a Witch, and ranting about me cursing him to lose on his bets. He said he's gonna kill me, and he's got the biggest knife in Oblivion to do it with!"

"Hey, hey, settle down," Methredhel said in a soothing tone, running one hand through the tangled mane of Teresa's brown hair. "We're not going to let that happen. The Bosmer Brigands stick together, right?"

"The Grey Vixens…" came the voice of Adanrel. "Besides, just tell one of the soldiers, they'll take care of him."

"Oh grow up Adanrel," Teresa muttered with all the vinegar her tongue could muster. "That'll just make it worse. They don't care about people like us. Just yesterday one threatened to throw me in prison. The law is only for rich folks."

"She's right, it is," Methredhel smiled, her eyes aglow with conspiratorial delight. "So we will just have to find a patrician to help us."

"What are you thinking Methredhel?" Adanrel gave the oldest Bosmer a look that was half wary, but also partly glittering with anticipation.

"Okay, here's what we'll do…"

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 30 2020, 02:18 AM

[D.Foxy]

CLIFFHANGERING should be a Crime punishable by being locked in a room with your computer and not being let out until a new chapter is finished!!!!

[haute ecole rider]

Man! Except maybe for the fight in Jensine's shop, this was probably the most thrilling chapter I've read.

That Dreth sure has it in for our little Bosmer! Oh, where is Julian when she needs a savior the most!

(Julian assures me she was in Skyrim fighting Goblins at the time)

[treydog]

12.1

One of the (many) things I like about your writing is that there are effects from what has gone before. They may be emotional or physical- but they are not simply glossed over after a major event. And that is part of what makes Teresa and Simplicia and Vols and Jensine and … everyone else real in the reader’s mind.

And the argument with Simplicia still hurts- because it is so well-written.

12.2

Teresa’s experience of the differences between the wealthy and working-class districts is subtle, yet conveys the message effectively.

Is it just me, or did you turn up the creepiness of Umbacano a few notches? The description of the Ayleid Ancestor’s aura was quite impressive. And her feeling of an unwanted kinship with the Altmer is also quite interesting- and sets my dachshund-sense to tingling.

12.3

The appearance by another beloved character is a high point, of course. The bond of adversity, of each being present at the death of an Emperor, was magnificent. Equally compelling was Teresa’s beginning awareness that she was where she needed to be.

12.4

The last line feels prophetic- but I rather fear Teresa is seeing with her heart instead of her “inner eye.” Yet another reason why seers (e.g. Morcant) tend to go where they can be alone and avoid the complications of other people in their lives.

13.1

Street food! And Teresa amongst the steel-clad (and unclad!) Legionaries.

Yes," Teresa repeated, beginning to feel nervous, "he's a big guy, wears lots of armor…”

Nervous? Surely not!

And some thoughts on healing magic to end with.

13.2

“Damn women and hair, how do the gods keep them all straight?"

A doped-up Vols is always fun to watch.

This is a part of your story that always draws me in and catches me by surprise, like that glimpse of home as you round the last bend. There is so much to love here, and so much of the writer’s craft on display.

13.3

The role-reversal is poignant, and cannot help but move anyone- especially those who have experienced it. And, in your brilliant way, you bring things full circle and put the world right again, with Simplicia as the mother and Teresa the child.

Teresa said nothing. She just held Simplicia and let her talk. She wondered how long it had been since the old woman had been able to share the terrible events of her life another person, if ever at all.

I think a “with” has disappeared from between “life” and “another.”


Oh, gang names. I can absolutely fail at that! How about “ ‘Rel’s Belles,” “Waterfront Wisps,”
“The Char-Mers”? The last of which, of course, is an Adanrel suggestion- and which will be pointed out makes them sound like a bunch of cleaning-women!

ETA- Just saw the "no waterfront" restriction- so how's about- "The IC Tree-Cats" or the "The IC Hots"? (sorry, couldn't resist that pun)

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 30 2020, 02:19 AM