"Are you all right?" the young mer asked.
"No, but I will be," I replied, shaking with adrenaline.
"Are you sure? You look very pale." His grey eyes glanced down the path, nervously regarding the Dawnguard officer.
"I'm not what those townsfolk keep saying I am," I grumbled through gritted teeth. When I noticed Valindor's apprehensive glance in my direction, my control finally snapped and the frustrations I had contained for weeks on end finally spewed forth. "Don't look at me like that! They're always looking at me as if I'll bewitch them of bite them! I've done nothing of sort. That young man came on to more than I did him!"
"I--hmm--um-- Sorry," Valindor stammered awkwardly. His fingers closed around mine for a moment, warm and firm. I stared at his hand, unable to decide how I felt about it. Turned out, I needn't decide for he stood before me and gestured grandly. "Nevertheless, I've followed your ever-winding trail and stand before you at your service." With that he bowed theatrically, and to my surprise, I laughed for the first time in many months. Something shifting between us and we entered into one of those rare moments where the entire universe becomes a hysterically humorous experience and each participants' laughter only increases the hilarity with every round.
"Thank you. I needed that."
"Always, Henny." We had been walking around the side of the house towards the lake, but that name stopped me. My blood froze to ice and the precious glimmer of mirth I possessed dropped from a precipice into an abyss.
"Derk called me that," I murmured, gazing fixedly at a roving chicken. And now he's not here anymore.
"I didn't mean to--"
"I know. It's all right."
For some minutes we were silent as we resumed our walk, meandering aimlessly as companions are wont to do when they have nothing to talk about and a vast, unspoken mammoth of a topic they're pretending doesn't exist. I spared glances at the young Bosmer, memories from a long ago dream surfacing, images of a mer like him, only not, garbed in vines. A being as much a part of the forest as it was the forest. An ancient song, heard in snatches.
"You have a lovely voice. You should sing more often," Valindor smiled, breaking my thoughts.
"What?"
"You were singing something. It sounded strangely familiar," he said, his brow furrowing into deep creases. "Sometimes I feel like I've known you for ages, but I don't understand why." I nodded, but kept silent, for I remembered the way Y'ffre appeared in his face that strange day in Solitude.
"How did you find me?" I asked, changing the subject as we crossed the backyard towards the bluff overlooking Lake Ilinalta. Along the edges of the drop, pines ruffled in the breeze, wafting their fragrant scent around us. The air was warm and humid, but cool enough to contain the midges to the shores below. Overhead, a hawk screeched, gliding smoothly, a fish of the air. Sitting down on the cool stone, I searched idly through the trees some something to observe. My gaze fell on the necromancer's altar crouched in a clearing some quarter of a mile away.
"Well, you weren't exactly being covert about your travels," he paused, seemingly in thought. "I found your journal." Of course he had.
"I was going to burn that dwelling to the ground. Something stopped me from following through in the end. I guess I must have forgotten a few things before I left," I replied evasively. In truth, I had left the journal and documents hoping someone would find me. Ideally, it would have been the Nord I tracked over the mountains to the tomb--the one the Thalmor in Skyrim started calling the "The Fulfiller" after their ancient prophesy regarding the end of mer. Part of me wanted to reverse the roles given to us. I wanted to be hunted. I wanted to be the prey. Yet it seemed no one was willing to try me. Even the males who traveled to peer at me through the curtains of their curiosity ended up retreating in the end. To my shame, the loss of my closest friend led me to forget other friends I met along my journey. That Valindor would make the effort to find me, for whatever reasons, had been well out of my reckoning.
Below, I spotted the necromancer making her way to the altar as she did every morning. The small figure placed an assortment of bones on the altar, then wielding a stick of charcoal, struck runes upon the stone slab. Each morning a different set of runes was tried, bearing different meanings whose subtleties I could not yet divine. I spent the past month watching her, learning the runes through observation, though I never used them. Not yet. I was too afraid something might go wrong. The thought of creating a horror not unlike those that slept under the mountains filled me with dread.
The Breton below turned, and seeing me, waved before returning to her work. Behind me, Valindor shifted, the rustle of fabric loud in the prolonged silence. "Henn--Gwaihen," he corrected, "Is that the one who is helping you retrieve your soul?"
"Retrieve my soul?" My face contorted in utter confusion. Where was this coming from?
"Please don't tell me you've resorted to necromancy," he pleaded, disgust lingering at the edges of his tone.
"What in Nirn are you talking about, Valindor?"
"That's what your personal research is about, isn't it?"
Comprehension hit home. Ah, so that's what he's worried about. "No, not at all." I stammered, fighting the embarrassment rising. I couldn't bring myself to tell him the real reason for my research. Even I couldn't fully face it. I only plunged onward, blindly, moving from one island of hope to the next, buoyed by a single thought: Derkeethus shouldn't have died.
"I see." I knew he didn't completely believe me, but his momentary acceptance was encouraging.
"I've been having these dreams," I said after a few moments, standing to stretch my legs.
"Dreams?"
"Aye," I replied, the colloquial grunt having infiltrated my speech. "Every night since I left Solitude, I've dreamt of trees. All kinds of trees. All shapes and sizes. When I moved here, I started dreaming about just one tree."
"Tell me about this one tree," he bade.
"It's old. Very old. So old the earth rose up and formed a dome around its branches to protect it. I hear these voices singing, but from where I do not know. What does it mean?"
"Maybe Y'ffre's trying to tell you something," he offered.
"Y'ffre? Why would he try to speak to me? He abandoned me that night on the tower."
"Gwaihen, don't say that! He would never abandon his people!" Valindor exclaimed, his eyes heated by a flash of anger at my evident blasphemy. I spun around to glare at him and chide him for such foolish delusions, but the expression on his face reminded me of a fragment of a thought. "I will help you find the way back to me, should you wish for it. That is something I can do." Y'ffre. Was this your messenger? Or were the dreams? The connection was too uncanny to ignore, and I held my reaction in check with a sigh.
"You're right. I suppose he wouldn't. Not really. I think I need to talk to Runil about this," I declared, turning from the bluff and striding through the grass towards my makeshift forge.
"That old Altmer? He's a stick in the mud! Never smiles. Only stares at me gloomily when I play. It's like he's so close to Arkay, he's already dead!"
"You're right, but he knows a lot about visions and dreams. I've heard him talking about them with his assistant in the inn. I'd like to get his opinion on the matter. You're welcome to stay here, if you like. I don't have much food left, but there's a bed and a roof. One of the Redguard girls, Rayya, comes up once a week from Falkreath for training in archery, so you might have to help her with that." Smoke from the smelter burned my nostrils, the sulfuric tinge reminding me all too much of Eastmarch and the adopted community I left there.
"No. I think I'd rather come with you, even if it means backtracking to the town I just left," he sighed, ruffling a hand through his red hair.
"Why?" I asked.
"I've been itching for some kind of adventure, and you seem to have a knack for attracting trouble. Even when you're trying to run away from it," he grinned, the familiar sickle smile appearing at last.
"Then we'll be on our way," I countered, a smile tugging reflexively at my lips.
Comments
I see I have a great deal of backstory to catch up on, though. It'll feel like a prequel to me.