Falura
~ ~ ~
Turdas, 21st of Last Seed 4E 201
One more day. My escort would return to Morrowind. I would be home again, back in the comforts of Blacklight. I could return to my studies, to my books and research, to my loving husband, to groveling beneath the Telvanni’s boot heels. Life would be as it had been.
Sad that this did not thrill me as much as I hoped. But there were more pressing concerns.
“Cowards,” I muttered. “You’re all cowards.”
Some of the mages scoffed at my insult. Savos frowned at me – a concerned frown.
“Falura, please,” he said, “this sudden distraught is unnecessary…”
“You are all so engrossed in your scholarly hobbies and pet projects enough to ignore the threat this dragon poses,” I jeered, “and you expect me to not be distraught?”
I was giving an address to a clutch of college instructors in the Hall of the Elements, a room commonly used for spell practice. Sunlight filtering through stained glass windows, mixed with the blue glow of a mystic focal point, sitting in the room’s center like a fountain. I could not leave Skyrim with any peace of mind without first warning the mages of what I’d witnessed – the white dragon’s slaughtering of an entire Legion company. I hoped my words could convey the terrible power that that flying beast possessed. It posed a great danger to the college and countless lives in the region. I sought to convince the instructors of the need for immediate responsive action.
Not one person offered to lift so much as a finger. The mages would sit in their cold secluded college and do nothing. Fools, the lot of them!
“We would never dream of ignoring this dragon’s presence,” one of the mages spoke up, a middle aged Breton named Colette Marence, teacher of Restoration. Her voice was high pitched and nasal. “But there is absolutely no reason for us to throw ourselves into a troll’s den of danger over your hunch that this dragon might pose a larger threat.”
“Hunch?” I snapped. “Do you take my observations to be idle conjecture? I watched those men die, their bodies left to freeze in the snow! I need no further evidence to convince me that this dragon’s intentions are malevolent.”
“You say that the dragon is roosting in the region of mount Anthor,” Savos rejoined. “Perhaps the soldiers wandered too close into its territory. Those men could have been hunting the dragon. Have you considered this? What if the attack was an act of defense or territorial instinct?”
“That dragon took the offensive, Savos,” I asserted, with a hand gesture chopping the air. “It flew to their camp and killed every man alive with systematic intent. It spoke to them! This dragon possesses enough intelligence to form coherent language! We cannot consign the motivations of such a creature to be mere primal instinct.”
“That still doesn’t mean the soldiers hadn’t intended the dragon harm,” another mage added. Phinis Gestor, the local expert on matters of Conjuration. And necromancy. “You didn’t find any evidence to suggest what they were doing in this region.”
I knew they would use that against me. I was losing momentum. These people were determined to find any and every reason to avoid confronting this beast. They would rather see the attack as an unfortunate accident, as though the men were victims of nature, like travelers killed by a netch after wandering too close to its nest.
“Then I implore you: we must return to the scene and search for clues!” I insisted.
“We have to discover why the dragon killed these men. If it intends to repeat the behavior…”
“Falura, listen to yourself,” Savos lamented. “We don’t know whether or not this was an isolated incident. What will we learn if we merely provoke another attack? I can’t have our brightest instructors out imperiling their lives to study this dragon.”
“With the right precautions, I’m certain we could eliminate any–”
“It just isn’t worth the risk, my dear,” another mage stepped up to speak. Tolfdir, an elderly Nord versed in the school of Alteration. “Believe me when I say that I share your concerns. The safety of our college is a tremendous priority. But we know so little about dragons! We should dedicate time to further research in the archives first, at the very least.”
The man gave sincere cautionary wisdom. I acknowledge that I was confronting many unknowns with my pursuit. It would surely benefit from a healthy dose of judiciousness.
If only my window wasn’t closing.
“Or we can go out there and learn more, right now,” I said. “While we still have the chance.”
While I’m still in Skyrim.
Savos’ patience had been worn too thin. He sensed that neither side of this argument would yield to the other.
“I think that’s enough, Falura. You’ve argued your case,” he said. “We will stay vigilant for signs of the dragon’s activities, but we can’t investigate the matter as you want us to. Are we clear?”
I shook my head, eyes clenched shut in frustration. Can’t investigate? Or won’t? Choose your words carefully, Savos. You’re the one who’s worrying me.
“Yes, we are clear. I’m sorry for taking all of your time,” I muttered to the gathering of mages, “and for wasting my breath.”
Why did I bother? The Telvanni never listen to me. These instructors were no different. What ill is there in my implorations that they should always fall on deaf ears? The group dispersed, footsteps clopping on the tiled floor, leaving the Arch-Mage and I to ourselves in the frigid domed chamber.
“Don’t deem your efforts in vain. Your passion is commendable,” he said. “I’m sure your observations will help our scholars in unraveling the nature of dragons. And please, rest assured. The college will take care of itself. It always has.”
Don’t worry about us while you’re gone, I assumed he meant. He did not want me to fret over what might happen in my absence. It was much too late for that.
“On behalf of the college,” he said with a smile, “I thank you for the knowledge you’ve given us.”
I glared at the leaves of parchment Savos held in his hand. The originals. I had promptly written down everything I could remember from my encounter after returning to the college. The documents would be given back to me once duplicated.
“You can thank those who paid for that knowledge,” I hissed, “in blood.”
I turned my back to him and left, retreating to the college courtyard. The morning sun was bright and glaring. It brought little warmth to the grounds, still buffeted by icy winds. I suppressed a yawn. How could I have possibly slept well after what happened the night before? Yet still I carried on, trying to seize the day as always. My stubborn tendency to remain a busy-body is ever the constant complain of my husband, but I can’t help myself. What is there to be gained in idleness? Of all the resources mortals amass, time is the one we cannot add to. I often wonder how much more precious it must be for men or beasts whose lives are measured in decades instead of centuries.
Crushed by the mages of the college, I accepted that the burden of the white dragon’s threat was mine to bear alone. I leaned against a brick wall, standing between me and a long plummet into the sea of ghosts below, as I tightly drew over my coat.
I wanted to do more. I wasn’t finished. If I did not continue to carry the torch, who would? What I lacked was not motivation or courage to brave the unknown, but rather, to my aggravation, capacity.
One more day…
One more day was not enough.
I feared I needed to make a very difficult decision. Soon.
~ooooo~
Fredas, 22st of Last Seed 4E 201
Alas, whatever decision needed to be made I could not will myself to make it. After another restless night of unproductive study in the Arcanaeum, the sun rose on my final day. I packed up my belongings, gathered my notes, and prepared for the inevitable. The journey back to Morrowind would embark at noon. I stopped caring about the larger implications of that, for fear of confronting ugly truths. I was more content to drift along like a stick on the water. What is it about apathy that can make one so sedate? So content?
I proved to be no better than the mages of the college. In my discouragement, their state of denial had infected me like a disease.
A final stop at the local dry goods store would sign me off. Snow and wind blew through the wooden door as I stepped inside the cramped walls of ‘Birna’s Oddments.’ Another storm began to bluster last night and carried on into the day. It was not severe enough to delay the trip, naturally. Only enough to add more snow to an already anticipatively miserable carriage ride.
At least I would return to Ethyl. I did not mind my brief sojourn from that old troubadour, but I missed him fiercely. More to the matter I missed his high spirits. His endearing wit and incessant affection could clear my skies on even the cloudiest days.
I stepped up to the store counter, to a woman whom I could only assume was Birna, shaking off snowflakes from my coat.
“You’re one of the elves visiting from Morrowind, yah? Heard about you,” the shopkeeper said.
“I’ll be returning soon. I’m looking for a pound of dried fish for the trip,” I replied, “and a pair of gloves if you have any. I seem to have misplaced the ones I brought with me.”
“Aye, I’ll see what gloves I have. Fish are in the back.”
The woman checked a few drawers and counters behind her desk. I went to a cluster of barrels she’d pointed to and picked out the largest fish I could find inside. The pungent smell coming from the open lids was almost incentive enough to reconsider buying. But even bad fish would be better than whatever game the escort guards would hunt. Red meat makes me sick. I walked back, laying down my purchase beside a set of too-large leather gloves. They would suffice.
“Have there been any more sightings of the white dragon?” I asked, something pleading in the pit of my voice.
“It’d be a wonder if we could see anything in this weather,” the woman replied, wrapping the fish. “The snow never stops around here. Hard to believe I ever complained about Riften being cold.”
It was sunny the other day, I thought absentmindedly.
“I guess it was too much to hope for.”
“Hope for? You want to see it?” Birna sounded bemused. “This town must be getting to you. Be glad you don’t have to stay. It gets to all of us.”
Depression. The only thing Winterhold had more than snow.
I presented my payment. “Thank you.”
Birna nodded. “Keep your eyes on the sky if you’re heading south,” she said.
I paused opening the doorway. A gentle gust of white flakes flurried inside.
“Come again?”
“I said watch the skies.”
“No, I heard you,” I said, quietly shutting the door. “What do you mean?”
The woman stood up from a slouch. “Oh, you didn’t hear? Some tradesmen came into town yesterday. Said they saw another dragon flying out over the hot springs. I wouldn’t have believed it if we hadn’t seen one the day before. ”
My nerves froze. Another dragon. I assumed only the one…
“Did they mention anything else?” I asked anxiously.
“There was something about a small village in the south. Helgen. They got told by some caravan that a dragon burned it down. Sounds more like the Stormcloaks to me… but damned if I know what’s happening anymore these days.”
Could it be? It wasn’t impossible.
A village attacked… Multiple sightings…
Were the dragons returning in numbers? How many were there? Why were they appearing so suddenly? Was there a connection to the call of the Greybeards? Would they continue to attack settlements? What if they left Skyrim and flew to other lands?
What if they flew to Morrowind?
I barged out of the store. My decision had been made. I couldn’t leave, not yet! There were too many questions! There was too much to be done! I had to remain in Skyrim and continue pursuing this research. We needed to know more about the dragons. Lives depended on it.
Briskly pacing through the snow, passing guards and wood buildings, I weighed a dozen hypothesizes. Dragons are aggressive, intelligent beings – that was as much as I knew with certainty. If their numbers were few, resisting their advances and minimizing casualties would be a difficult but feasible task. On the other hand, if their numbers were increasing…
Nerevar! What would happen if they organized!? Coordinated their attacks!? With their mobility and power they could devastate entire armies, cripple economies! Swaths of fire or ice breath alone could decimate farms, leaving populations to starve while under siege! The losses were unthinkable! Entire pockets of civilization could be brought to their knees!
Fear sunk into my skin like clenching teeth. At best we were facing the devastation of towns and cities. At worst…
…this was a growing catastrophe to rival the Oblivion Crisis.
I hurried back to my study.
I have to warn Ethyl! I have to tell him what’s happening!
And why I wasn’t coming home.
With an arm sweeping across the top of my desk, I cleared the clutter to make room for a slip of paper. I dipped a quill tip in ink and wrote furiously. The escort to Morrowind would leave soon, which meant my time was short. I needed to give Ethyl the complete picture, omitting nothing. He deserved to know the full reason I was choosing to stay. I would send him a letter along with a synopsis of the white dragon encounter.
This wasn’t some trivial pursuit. I hoped he would understand that. Black words formed on the page.
‘My dear Ethyl. Before you worry yourself to death, know that I am fine. No harm has befallen me. And no, I am not leaving you. If I come home and I find you’ve thrown yourself into another one of your drunken stupors, tuning the strings on your–’
I crumpled the paper and tossed it aside.
“No, no… Not like that… Be sensitive, not cynical,” I muttered.
Start over.
All you have to do is tell him what you’re doing…
As I continued to write, I became increasingly flustered, emotions running high. I did not know how long I would remain in Skyrim. There was no telling what sorts of dangers I would to encounter. To speak nothing of the dragons themselves, Skyrim was home to hosts of barbaric denizens. And with the civil war raging on…
How will he react when the escort returns and I’m not there?
I wouldn’t have any reliable means of sending correspondence to Blacklight. Nor could I receive any mail in reply. I anticipated this research would involve a degree of travel. My current funds were adequate for the task, though being cut off from my estate would be cumbersome in the long run.
Can I really do this? Alone?
Fears and doubts began to gnaw at me. I pushed them down and kept writing.
What if… I don’t return? What if I die out here?
They were persistent. They pushed back.
He would spend the rest of his life wondering what happened to me…
“Stop it!” I sobbed, wiping my eyes. “Stop it! You have to do this…!”
These could be the last words I ever say to him.
The quill became a lead weight in my hand. I set it aside and leaned on an elbow, palm pressed against my mouth. Tears fell down and died upon the parchment. Ethyl could do nothing in protest. I was leaving him powerless in the face of my decision.
But if I returned to Morrowind, he would surely persuade me to stay. He had every reason to try. Ethyl almost lost me to a similar expedition many years ago. That tragedy at Balfalls still haunted him as much as it haunted me. The man was a worrywart. He saw me as a thing to protect – fragile, like glass.
“Falura?” an anxious voice spoke behind me. Savos. “Your carriage rider is look for you. Is something wrong?”
I sat up and looked down at my letter. It was finished.
Oh Ethyl… Please forgive me for this…
“I’m sending this to my husband,” I said, brushing a tear from my eye as I held the parchment in my hands. “He should know why I’ve chosen to stay in Skyrim.”
The Arch-Mage looked baffled. “Stay! You’re not going back?”
I pushed away from my desk and stood, composed.
I was not fragile.
“I will have need of this study quarters until my research into the dragons is finished, Savos. Fees are no issue – we will discuss the matter later. Do excuse the inconvenience.”
Savos stared at me as I walked past.
“It is no inconvenience, Falura,” he said. He did not see my smile. I stepped into the courtyard. Once my letter was securely away I would resume my research in the college library.
So much to do…
The Arcanaeum’s lack of texts on dragons would be a minor setback. Instead, I would further investigate other topics of concern – namely the Greybeards and the Dragonborn. More importantly, I would keep my ears open. I did not know enough about dragons, as Tolfdir had said, to risk another full on encounter, but few other options were open to me. I decided to wait for another word of dragon activity to reach Winterhold. If the source was trustworthy, I would investigate.
~ooooo~
Morndas, 25st of Last Seed 4E 201
Three days later, I found my chance in the form of a war courier bringing news from the front. Soldiers and the local militia in Winterhold were interested in the current state of central Skyrim. The Jarl of the region’s hold was in swing, siding with neither the Stormcloaks nor the Imperials. Both sides were putting pressure on him. News was spreading, however, that the Jarl’s city had been sieged. By dragon fire.
I prepared myself for a journey that promised a plethora of new discoveries.
To the city of Whiterun…
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