Long ago in the year 2004.........

[Si'anelle of Avelorn]

The Scriveners’ Contest:

A Tale by Si’anelle of Avelorn, 9th January, 2004:


This was not the season for a journey, perhaps she was no more than an old fool afterall to insist that she would make a returning to her birthplace.
‘Mother!’
Gathering the hood of her woollen cloak more tightly about her face and neck against the cold she raised her head. The coarse homespun was rough against her skin, but then the years were long since she had last worn a cloak of the finest wool about her shoulders. Yes the years were long, so very long .......
‘Mother!!’
With a soft sigh she placed a smile on her lips for her daughter’s sake, but Nan’ivnel was not fooled. Scowling at her from beneath the hood of her own snow sodden cloak Nan’ivnel proceeded to gift her the length of her sharp tongue.
‘I told you to stay with the baggage while I was scouting ahead. And what do I find when I come back? – that you’ve gone and wandered off and let the fire go out. We’ve got little enough food as it is and now we have even less after a Winter hungry fox has eaten half of it.’ Her daughter paused for breath before she once more plunged into the fray.
‘The day’s almost over all thanks to you. Do you think I enjoy searching for you all over the damn forest? – no I bloody don’t Mother.....’

‘Pray do not use profane language Nan’ivnel,’ she sighed as she cast her eyes for the last time over the lands of the Emperor Karl Franz. It was this wide view out over the Winter landscape that had drawn her away from their campsite; - for long years the Empire had been her dwelling place, her adopted home and she would not pass this way again in life.
‘And don’t speak Elvish to me Mother,’ scolded her daughter, her accents harsh and guttural sounding. ‘You know I can only understand half of what you say even if you consider it your duty to force me to learn your native tongue.’
‘For near to five hundred years I hath dwelt within these lands,’ she said quietly continuing to speak her native tongue, the sound of her voice like the refrain of a minstrel’s lament. ‘Wouldst thou chide me for this one last sighting?’
‘And my father has been dead for roughly four hundred and twenty of those years Mother,’ gave back Nan’ivnel sharply, though the small catch in her voice and the moist gleam in her eyes could not be ignored. She strode away from her mother to stand alone one foot braced on a tree stump protruding from the drifted snow; a tall half-Elf woman with long strands of flaxen hair escaping from beneath the hood of her cloak.
‘Thou do not need to depart from Nuln forever Nan’ivnel,’ she said to her daughter’s back. ‘If thou wilt set my feet upon the road, then I shall give to you my blessing and kiss of farewell.’

‘Blast you Mother!’ Nan’ivnel spun around to face her and now it was plain she had been weeping. ‘Perhaps you’re used to outliving your friends and burying husbands, but I’m heartily sick of it.’
This was to be a day for sighs. With her footsteps muffled by the thick snowfall she went to her daughter and took her into her arms and held her close.
Gently she stroked Nan’ivnel’s hair, the flaxen colour of it now well shot through with white strands, soon it would be as pale and colourless as her own hair. In truth her daughter was ageing swiftly despite her Elvish blood, one, perhaps two human lifetimes her Nan’ivnel might yet still claim before her death would find her. Three hundred and forty three years, - aye, - any human would name that a long life, - save that for an Elf such years were brief. May it be by Isha’s grace that she not live so many years as to see her daughter a-lying in her long sleep within her tomb.
‘Such things do lie heavily upon me also Nan’ivnel,’ she told her daughter as she kissed her cheek. ‘There doth lie the reason why Elf-kind does but rarely dwell among the sons of men.’
‘And what of the half-Elven?’ asked Nan’ivnel as she slipped free of her embrace. ‘I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes. With regret as if I’m already dead.’
‘Why dost thou think I did wait so long to bear thee?’ she said as she reclaimed Nan’ivnel to hold her close once more. ‘I hath no desire to stand a-weeping at the doors of thy tomb.’

‘Why did you bear me at all? Why did you choose to live apart from your own people?’ her daughter broke free of her arms. ‘What choice do I have? – remain here as a long lived curiousity, - or go with you to Ulthuan and be pitied for the stink of mortality that clings to me like stale sweat.’
Her daughter was still beautiful, her body strong and well made, lithe and long limbed. No lines nor sagging flesh lay upon her face to mar her beauty, - save that none would ever name her young again in her lifetime.
‘Isha doth know that I didst always desire to bear children my dearest Nan’ivnel and no Elf male would take me to wife,’ she said.
‘And Isha also knows you enjoy tupping with men because for a brief time at least they make for far more vigorous lovers than any Elf.’ Her daughter turned on her heel and began to walk back towards their campsite.
She sighed again setting her steps so that she would follow at a distance behind her daughter. At least this time Nan’ivnel had not cast the name ‘slut’ at her. Her bloodline wove in and out amongst the noble families of the Empire and she had been decently married to each of her husbands despite her daughter’s views upon her morals. She smiled quietly to herself, within the lands of men a plain faced she-Elf might be named a beauty even though none of her own kind had ever sought to woo her in her youth.

Ahead of her Nan’ivnel paused and looked back at her, then stood waiting for her beneath the trees. As she approached her daughter Nan’ivnel said to her, ‘Five sons and a single daughter, you were pretty damn fertile for a she-Elf; - and for some reason I’m the only one you decided to keep.’
‘Thy younger brothers hath made their own fortunes,’ she replied, ‘and they have gone their own ways.’
‘It’s a shame none of them remembered their mother and sister with those fortunes,’ said Nan’ivnel with a sharp laugh. ‘Then why would they want to seek us out? Two shabby camp-followers trailing after the Emperor’s armies, - not the sort of women they would wish to invite into their grand houses.’
‘We are skilled healers Nan’ivnel,’ she reminded her daughter in a firm tone. ‘By the sound of it thou would paint us as gifting joy whilst lying upon our backs.’
‘Speak for yourself Mother,’ said Nan’ivnel though she did smile as she said it. She took her arm and they walked together side by side beneath the silent pine trees. ‘There will be a full moon tonight,’ her daughter said after a while. ‘I think it will be better if we keep moving if we want to cross through the pass before the weather turns bad.’

As she was settling her pack upon her back Nan’ivnel asked her, ‘How far do you think you’ll be able to walk tonight?’
‘As far as thee,’ was her reply.
‘Winter hasn’t got into your joints?’ frowned her daughter at her. ‘I don’t want you collapsing halfway up the pass.’
‘I shall manage well enough, I am merely old, not toothless and drooling as yet,’ she said as she checked the stringing of her bow. It was an Empire huntsman’s bow, workmanlike and sturdy; - she no longer possessed any Elf-made weapons.
‘I hope that when we arrive in Lothern I’m not going to discover that my Mother was exiled for terrible crimes,’ said Nan’ivnel in a dry tone as she examined her own bow. ‘Or that she’s a Druchii.’
When at last she could manage to speak her tone was as chill as the evening air. ‘You will apologise to me for that Nan’ivnel,’ she demanded as she stood more tall. ‘I am thy Mother, E’thaine of Lothern, the bride of Elector Counts ......’
‘As well as three soldiers of fortune, and if I remember rightly an old bastard of an apothecary who used to beat you,’ said Nan’ivnel dryly as she settled the straps of her own pack more comfortably on her shoulders. Pausing a moment she studied her mother’s stance and tight faced expression then sighed. ‘Alright, I apologise for implying that you might be a Druchii. It was a joke Mother.’

Straight backed and with her chin held high she walked past her daughter towards the forest path.
‘Are you going to give me the silent treatment now Mother?’ called Nan’ivnel after her.
Pausing she turned her head an imp of mischief in her breast, ‘I didst lie to thee those many years ago Nan’ivnel,’ she said to her daughter, ‘thy father was the apothecary.’
She walked on while Nan’ivnel stood in shocked silence beside the cold ashes of their campfire with her mouth agape.
‘That old goat!’ yelled her daughter at her back. ‘Blast you Mother! – tell me it’s just your way of getting even, - that it’s just a bad joke .....’
Softly chuckling to herself she decided that it would be very sensible to seek out a stout branch to shape into a walking staff. The path over the mountain pass was steep and it would be good to have a staff to lean upon when she was weary.
‘Mother.... wait!’
‘Isha weep, - Mother .....!’


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[Luna Guardian]

Si'anelle!

First allow me to welcome you back home . Where've you been? How have you been?

Second, very nicely written story, once again

[Si'anelle of Avelorn]

Si'anelle!

First allow me to welcome you back home . Where've you been? How have you been?

Second, very nicely written story, once again

My thanks to thee for thy warm welcome. Much hath occupied me, but most of all it doth seem that growing older is the greater part of it. 'Tis idle curiousity which hath brought me home. The desire to set mine eyes upon Ulthuan once more.

[Luna Guardian]

And Ulthuan rejoices to see their favorite Avelornian lady return home. Worry not about old age, it has the tendency of creeping up on us all, even the best of us. Bear it with dignity, you have the right to it.

[Ruerl Khan]

Good to see you again Si'anelle, how is Vána?

-I'll comment on your story later, once i've had some sleep (been up writing my paper for the last 26 hours), in the meantime let me just welcome you back, its always a pleasure to see you around wether its here on in a morrowind related board.

[Si'anelle of Avelorn]

Ah, poor V'ana. Her madness doth still afflict her my dear Ruerl Khan. Then it is true enough that V'ana does little care that her wits are like a mess of potage for she is happy and content despite the strangeness of her ways.
http://s201.photobucket.com/albums/aa27 ... TheMad.jpg


Ah, the land of Morrowind; - it has been too long since I last set foot in that most strange land. My lord thou hath awakened memories within me and now I am made a Lady of Sighs.

[assimilation]

Yay, a new story. Will there be more wondrous tales once more, or is this just a once off appearance to tease us all?

[Si'anelle of Avelorn]

If thou art good there might yet be further Tales my Lord.

http://s201.photobucket.com/albums/aa27 ... imoire.jpg

[Anarion]

Whoa! Welcome back Si'anelle! Great to see you again.

[Aerendar Valandil]

Welcome back Si'anelle. That has been a while.

[Uther Di Asturien]

How fortunate of me to have come back in time to see the return of an elf I knew only as legend!
Truly, m'lady, I am deeply honored to be in the presence of such a famous and able scrivener such as yourself.
*bows deeply*

[Elias Kalderon]

Great to see you again! You had me a little worried.

The 2004 contest, hm? I completely missed that one. Nice to see one of your writings again.

[Si'anelle of Avelorn]

Elias! Accept as my gift this kiss. I have been too long away and I hath missed Ulthuan so. 'Tis long since I hath played at a wargame or scrivened at a new Tale, save that if Isha is kind she might gift me back my Muse so that I may take up my pen once more.