Aranni feels something caressing his face; it feels like a moth or a butterfly, maybe a petal. Maybe he can catch it… Damn where did it go… Ahh, it is a butterfly… Where is it going, why is it always just out of reach… If he could just stretch a little further, almost… Almost… Hey!!! Where did it go!!!! It was just there… He looks all over, not on the cotton plant, nor the thistle, what the??? “Aranni”, he hears his name is that the butterfly talking? He hears it again, “Aranni”. He shallows, “yes”? “Aranni, Ingoknin, she is in danger, you must find her, hurry.” It is as though he feels the words, like the wind is speaking to him directly… Next he feels pain and fear. It is in his soul, but he realizes it is not his it is her pain and fear. Aranni’s heart feels like it will beat out of his chest, his eyes open, and he is breathing heavy. He sits up in the tent. It is still dark; he tries to come to terms with his dream, slow his breathing. Was it a dream? Pushing aside the bed roll; he decides to hit the road. Maybe the air will clear his thoughts. As he gathers his equipment something catches his eye. A butterfly! What the? There it is - calm as can be, just slowly moving its wings, sitting on his pouch. Shaking his head, no, no, can’t be. But, there it is! He goes to take his pouch, it doesn't move. Bringing it closer he is mesmerized. Then it just flutters away… He has to get to Ingoknin!
He rushes over to the night watchmen. “Young man, your name please.” “Jolf”, replied the Nord. He knows of Aranni, he is the Legate the other soldiers were talking about at dinner. “Please let General Tullius & Legate Quentin know I am leaving and taking one of the horses, I will send word once I have accomplished the tasks required.” Jolf salutes Aranni and acknowledges his request.
The Imperial camp is south of Greenspring Hollow and Dragon Bridge isn't that far, he considers going north to Dragon Bridge, then cut east, maybe connect with Ingoknin on her way west. Pulling out his map of Skyrim he plots his course. Yet, something is pulling him east urging him to head toward Windhelm. Abandoning his plan he sets out northeast. He doesn't take the road; the horse is a strong mare and seems eager to stretch her legs he decides to cross through the woods.
The sun makes a spectacular rise, the frost of the night melting in its warmth. The weather is working in his favor as he covers the miles quickly. The horse is a strong one; it is almost as she knows the urgency of his mission. So far only a few frostbite spiders, no match for his arrow. They take a short break and he strokes the horses muzzle, her eyes are bright. “You have some beautiful eyes, mare. I think I shall name you, hmm… [looking at the horse] how do you like, Dark-Gem, for those eyes of yours?” Not really expecting an answer, he is satisfied with her new name. He checks the map, he will need to stop for a night, but Whiterun is out of the way he intended to go. Then he remembers he has some good friends just north of Whiterun, perfect. He re-mounts Dark-Gem, yes he likes that name, and off they go.
Making good time, he figures within an hour he should be at his friends homestead, the Loreius’ Farm. He had helped Curwe flee Summerset Isle. Vantus had been in the Imperial Army, old war buddies they were. Hopefully he could crash with them for the night, he really needed to sleep in a bed and not the floor for a change, and eat at a table with a fork!
Aranni pushes the mare forward. Ever alert for Skyrim can be a harsh environment. He can see the top of the wind-mill, not too far now. As he steers the horse towards the farm and reflects over his dream and the butterfly. He doesn't believe in coincidence, something or someone wanted him to get to Ingoknin, she needed him. She could be a wonderful Bard, if given the proper training. It was a shame this mess they were all caught up in. Her parents were dear friends of his even back in the Valenwood days. At times he missed his simple life, but he knew Codell was right they had to eliminate the Altmer; their only intent, to control all of Tamriel. They even convinced most Bosmer that they will share this glory with them, when in truth they were killing anyone who opposed the Thalmor. Aranni like Codell wanted to preserve the Bosmer culture, the Altmer wanted to destroy it.
Aranni approaches the farm. As he dismounts Vantus comes out, upon noticing it is his friend, a warm smile spread across his face. “Curwe, come outside, it is Aranni!” Aranni smiles, it is good to be welcomed. “My friend, my dear friend, what brings you to us?” The two long time friends shake hands. “OH, ARANNI” Gushes Curwe, pushing aside her husband good naturedly and gives Aranni a good hug and a kiss on the cheek. Still holding onto his hands, she scolds him, “You have been gone far too long from our door, come inside, please stay for a night!” “Ah, Curwe, you read my mind!” It fills Aranni’s soul with warmth; it was just what he needed in this cold unforgiving land.
Vantus makes a quick stable of sorts for the mare and gives her two lovely red apples as a treat. He rushes back to the cabin the Loreius have some exciting news to share!!! As he enters, Aranni and Curwe are sharing a good laugh. “Ah, friend, tell us what has brought you to our door.” Aranni takes a gulp of the sweet milk, “Well, as you know Vantus, nothing good ever brings me around. I am looking for two travelers, they have something I need.” Vantus and Curwe can read between lines, as always it is war related. “Aranni, whatever the reason that brings you our way matters not, we are just glad to see you and we have some wonderful news.” Curwe smiles shyly and a blush spreads over her face at her husband’s words. For a moment only a slight fraction of a second pain stabs at his heart, but as quickly as it came it leaves replaced by happiness, he knows they do not have to tell him. “No way, [a smile crosses his face] are you with child Curwe?” “Yes, yes we are Aranni, and we couldn't be gladder for it.” Curwe’s smile is just etched in her face, her happiness is contagious! “Ah a toast to you Curwe and Vantus, may your child be as lovely as Curwe and as strong as Vantus!!!” They are in such a good mood, laughing, joking, and catching up. Curwe makes the evening meal, in honor of their friend it is a selection of different meats. They feast, they laugh some more, talk some more, and no one wants the evening to end.
“Vantus, your hospitality is immeasurable, thank you. You have no idea how this visit has restored me. I only wish it could be longer.” “I agree, we worry about you and this war, remember you are always welcomed here, consider our home yours.” “Again, thank you.” “All set Aranni, the cot is not a bed but at least it isn't the floor.” Curwe giggles! “Ah, thank you, and rest up you two, for in no time at all you will not get any rest!!!” Goodnights and rest wells are said.
He is bone tried when he hits the cot, smiling Curwe must have put lavender between the sheets, the fragrance sooths him. Yet sleep evades him, now that all is quite, he thinks of the happiness his friends have found, his heart aches, he had that once, but that was a long time ago. In spite of his well guarded emotions, a tear slides down. He had not thought of his wife and daughter for a very long time, he tries to remember Usa’s laughter, the birth of their daughter Casna. It was before the Great War, before the Thalmor. He understood what Ingoknin was going through; he lost his family the same way. So much has happened since he is not the same Bosmer he was back then; war has a way of changing you. He was happy for his friends, and he knew for their safety and all the ones just like them he had to keep fighting until the Empire and order was restored.
The wind picks up he can hear it against the side of the cottage along with the wolves howling, it is actually a comfortable sound, familiar. He thinks of the butterfly, the dream, and Ingoknin. No matter what the General said he had to get her to Greir… His eyes are heavy, and sleep finally came…
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Greir is a spiritual woman; she is one with nature, with Kynareth. The winds are bringing change; she feels the Dovahkiin is close to reveling itself. Whom or what it is remains to be known. The night air is cold against her face but she enjoys the clam the night brings. She can hear the wolves howl far in the distance…
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Ingoknin, looks out the bars, their plan is just about set. Bagrak is amazing; she knows just how to encourage a group even when all the odds are against them. The air is still; oddly it feels colder here in Cyrodiil. The moon is so bright; she always loved nights like this back home. Resting her head against the bars, she hears the wolves howling at the moon, she wishes for a moment she could join them.
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