#mer-men are more than than these elves and they eat children

[maegalkarven]

Probably unpopular opinion, but The Ranger Achieves series is better than The Echoes saga.

Idc about all these elves and mages and young greycoats falling in love with elves, and the plot, and evil elf rising, and the other evil elf serving the Main Evil elf scheming in the Nightfall-

I just care about Asher and whatever fuckery is going on with him at the moment.

[lillxart]

The Men Who Married A God:

Translated by Thomas Patharius  

By Thomas Patharius

I

I came across an interesting legend in the temple archives; the Temple of Lorkir of course, and asked permission from Head Priest Pale if I could translate it. Despite the document casting quite the ill favor on his God, he was more than happy to approve. This account is known as the ‘Men Who Married A God’.

There was once an Altmer mage named Uthrin’dil. He was well accomplished, respected by his peers, wealthy, and had a beautiful betrothed who would guarantee him perfect Altmer children. He had a deep understanding of magic, and through this understanding accomplished things others could not. He often ventured into the darkness in order to uncover its secrets so he could further his study into the innerworkings of the Magnagee. Daedric Princes had tried to tempt him, but he was too crafty to fall for their wiles. Truly, he was an exemplary Altmer. 

One day Uthrin’dil ventured once more into the darkness, and there he saw a face. A beautiful light that pierced through his heart and soul, touching him in a way no magic had ever touched him before. The light took shape of a woman and she sat on a throne of jewels and white hot fire. On her crown were a pair of dragon’s horns, and from her back was a tail that moved like a lash, with every whip he felt power surge through his body, and every flutter of her lashes he felt his knees weaken like worn wood. Before he could touch the woman a river of blood and cries erupted from her feet full of both ben and mer attempting to clamp onto his robes and pull him under. Before he was overcomed Uthrin’dil fled from the darkness, returning to Nirn. When he finally regained his senses he felt passion possessed him like a ghost and his heart then only sang for the woman he saw, and he began research on who she was and how he could meet her. 

Uthrin’dil learned that the being he saw was the God of Cruelty, Lorkir. He then threw himself into researching as much as he could about her, the more he read the more his desire for her rooted itself in his heart like the roots of a plant clinging to stones. He then came up with what he believed to be a ritual to summon the deity, or at the very least, carry his cries to her. 

Uthrin’dil performed the ritual and Lorkir appeared to him. Before she could utter a word, the Altmer stood proud before her and begged. “Marry me, oh great Harbinger! Be my wife and my wife alone!”

Lorkir responded. “I cannot touch those whom my fellow Divines have not abandoned. If you wish to have me, then you must profane the other Eight. You must profane Julianos.”

And so Uthrin’dil walked into the college at which he taught from and profaned it, corrupting the wisdom in the texts and teachings to his peers and students. Those who left his lectures lost their ability to think, becoming as simple animals unable to discern. He had profaned Julianos. When Uthrin’dil was done he returned to her.

“I have done as you asked.” He said. 

“Now you must profane Stendarr.” She replied. 

And so Uthrin’dil captured and bound many righteous elves who had protected the land and were trusted by the people, dragging them into caves starving them out and forcing them to eat each other without mercy. When the last elf stood amongst the rotting corpses of his comrades he was consumed by despair and fell on his sword. When Uthrin’dil was done he returned to her. 

“I have done as you asked.” He said. 

“Now you must profane Kynareth.” 

And so Uthrin’dil casted mass confusion magic over the harbors causing many sailors to lose their way, unable to find home no matter the winds, no matter the currents, no matter the stars. Ships went out and never returned, man and mer starving and drowning while their cries to salvation were drowned out by the fear that took them. When Uthrin’dil was done he returned to her. 

“I have done as you asked.” He said. 

“Now you must profane Arkay.” She replied. 

And so Uthrin’dil found a vampire and took his ashes, mixing it with blood and other alchemical ingredients until the vampire’s disease was given liquid form. He disguised himself as a merchant and made the potions out to be wine. He traveled the land leaving a trail of vampiric corruption as towns and cities were becoming overrun with fledgling vampires. When the crisis grew too large to be ignored any longer the Altmer rallied together to massacre half its nation in order to stamp out the corruption. When Uthrin’dil was done and there was no one else he could infect, he returned to her. 

“I have done as you asked.” He said. 

“Now you must profane Zenithar.” She replied.

And so Uthrin’dil burned to the ground his holdings, left to him by the first of his line and destroyed the research he had dedicated his life to. He set fire every article of clothing, threw his treasures away into the sea, and burned every book until his estate was blazing so bright and so hot it could be seen from the neighboring cities. When Uthrin’dil was done, and he was left with nothing, he returned to her.

“I have done as you asked, now shall we be wed?”

“Soon. Now you must profane Mara and Dibella.” She replied. 

“And how might I accomplish such a task?”

Lorkir showed him a vision of his fiance, and he knew what he needed to do. 

And so, Uthrin’dil sullied his fiance’s maidenhood until her gentle heart had been corrupted. She sneered at him like an animal, now robbed of her elegant elven beauty because of his brutal treatment. She scratched and clawed at him, and Uthrin’dil stabbed her in the heart, skinning her and presenting the skin to Lorkir. 

“You have done well. But now there is only one God left to profane. You must profane Auri-el.”

Uthrin’dil felt discord rising in his heart. He had done all of this, yet he has not been counted worthy to wed her? Desperate, passion burning in his chest he pleaded with her, “How does one profane Auri-el?”

Lorkir smiled at him and reached out her clawed hands. Light shined through her eyes, it's brilliant glory giving him a taste of the feeling he experienced before when he saw her in the darkness. Her voice was gentle, sweet like a song coming from a lyre. “To profane Auri-el, you merely have to take my hand.”

And so Uthrin’dil took the hand of the God of Cruelty and his heart was revealed to him. In his abandonment of the Gods he had become blacker than obsidian, vileness came out of his lips and he craved impurities so intensely he drew his own blood and drank his own sweat in feverish desire. He laid with animals and ate corpses and casted spells raising the dead and using them to slaughter the remaining nearby villages while he danced in its madness. He had laid waste to everything, flora and fauna. In the destruction he wrought, Lorkir was delighted. 

When he came to her a final time, the rivers had turned to blood and corpses of man and mer were crying from the dirt. He stood upon the wasteland and offered it to his dark Goddess as a show of his worth. Lorkir accepted his gift with gladness, a wicked pleasure in her grin. 

“Now, I shall grant your desire.” Lorkir drew close to the mad warlock and opened her mouth, consuming his soul. Marriage is to become one, and now he will never be separated from her realm ever again.

[23-cups]

Elder Scrolls History: Dawn Era

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Introduction

The Dawn Era is the period in Elder Scrolls history that ranges from the creation of the universe, to the creation of Mundus, and ends with the transition of Ehlnofey to Men and Mer throughout the world of Nirn. There are many varying beliefs about what happened during this time due to various religious teachings and stories, and it's unknown what truthfully happened as even time followed an incomprehensible path during this era. This is one period of time prehistory, the other is known as the Merethic Era. 

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Main Theory

Before the universe was Chaos, and from this nothingness, rose the twins of order and chaos, named Anu and Padomay respectively. Their interplay brought about Aurbis, the universe, and other beings began to form from the Void. 

Aurbis is the grey center between Anu and Padomay, and contains the realms of Aetherius and Oblivion. The Aurbis was turbulent and confusing, and et’Ada asked for ways to make the Aurbis more stable.

The two of them birthed their own souls into Anui-El and Sithis. They did so, so that they could self reflect. They are then believed to have also birthed their own souls creating Auri-El and Lorkhan. Auri-El brought with him the concept of time, allowing for Aurbis to stabilize and for the et'Ada, or original spirits, to form their own identities, and become the divine.

Every religion on Tamriel worships pantheons of the et’Ada, though the specifics range, almost every religion contains Anu, Padomay, a Dragon God, and a Missing God.

Anu and Padomay created various realms for the et'Ada to inhabit, but they struggled to keep up with the demand, and not everyone was content with what they got. Lorkhan asked for help from other et'Ada in creating a new plane of existence that would come to be known as Mundus, the mortal realm. He proposed that they would rule over this realm with a population of their creation.

He managed to gain the support of some et'Ada, but many were uninterested. It's believed that Lorkhan knew that creating Mundus would take from the forces of the et'Ada, as they were not eternal beings like Anu and Padomay, however despite this, lied to them and tricked them into giving up parts of themselves to create Mundus anyways.

Et'Ada who helped Lorkhan to create Mundus are known as the Aedra, and those who refused to help are called Daedra, though these terms aren't used until Mer create them to better describe their ancestory.

The Daedra are more attuned to Oblivion than the mortal realm, hence their lack of care for humanity, and Mundus.

After learning of his trickery the et'Ada removed Lorkhan's heart and made it into a stone known as the Heart of Lorkhan.

Learning of his trickery many et'Ada fled Mundus. The first to do so was Magnus, who fled to Aetherius, tearing a hole between the realms allowing magic to flow into Mundus.

Other et'Ada decided to stay and only returned to their realms at the end, these are the deities in most pantheons, specifically the Eight Divines, and they bound themselves to the new plane becoming the planets.

Some regard the loss of immortality as artistic, others regard it as war, and others still, as romantic marriage, and parenthood, parenting spirits dying to give way to succeeding mortal races.

Lorkhan, once a planet like the others, lost his divine spark, which fell to Nirn as a shooting star, and split him into the two moons of Nirn. 

One group fully surrendered their divinity forming the Ehlnofey, who began to roam Nirn and eventually diverged into the various Men and Mer races.

Before leaving, the remaining Divines created the Adamantine Tower and decided Lorkhan's fate. At the end of the Dawn Era, Lorkhan was permanently bound to Nirn when his heart was ripped out and shot with Auri-El’s bow into Tamriel, creating Vvardenfell, the Red Mountain Volcano. then the remaining gods left and thus began the Merethic Era.

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Padomaic beliefs

These are beliefs of those who worship chaos, rather than order. Their pantheon usually includes Sithis and Daedra, who’s connection to Mundus is insignificant to their existence.

According to most Padomaic beliefs, Anu and Padomay were static, incapable of thought, will, or intention, they were simply words to describe the order and chaos pre universe. They believe instead, that Sithis was the first being to come out of the Nothing, and they believe him to have created everything through his manipulation of Anu and Padomay.

Anui-El is believed to be a Demon who was selfish and wanted to become eternal like Anu, and so selfishly created realms of everlasting imperfection and labeled themselves the Aedra, claiming to be false gods. 

Sithis couldn’t stand to have their selfishness tarnish his universe and so he created Lorkhan to destroy everything, and using their weakness and vanity, Lorkhan befriended the Aedra, slaving them to Mundus, calling them the gods of this world, and taking away from them. 

They learned of his goals and betrayed him, cutting out his heart. 

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Yokudan Beliefs

Satak was the first Serpent, the Snake who came Before and the worlds rested on its glittering scales, but it was so big that there was nothing else, so it coiled around itself and the worlds slid across each other. The worlds had no space between them and called for something to save them. 

Akel made himself known, the Hungry Stomach, inside the serpent because of course there was nothing outside of the serpent. Satak could only think about what it was and it was hunger, so it ate and ate and there was soon enough room to live in the worlds, allowing everything to begin. Since everything was new, mistakes were often made, and most things ended quickly or were not good enough, and gave up on themselves. Some things would start, but were quickly eaten as Satak got to that part of its body. 

Akel soon caused Satak to bite its own heart, but even then the hunger did not stop, and then Satak shed its skin to begin anew, the old world died and Satakal began. Realizing the pattern they were in and their part in everything, things began to take names, like Ruptga and Tuwhacca. They looked for their kin as Satakal ate itself over and over, and the strongest spirits learned to bypass the cycle by moving at strange angles, known as the Walkabout, striding between the worldskins. Ruptga was so big that he was able to place the stars in the sky so weaker spirits would also be allowed to live through the eating. The practice became easy for the spirits and became a place for waiting, known as the Far Shores, a part of Aetherius for the RedGuard afterlife. 

Ruptga got many children through the cycles, becoming known as the Tall Papa. He continues to place stars for other spirits but there were too many, and so he made a helper from the detritus of past skins, and created Sep, the Second Serpent.

Sep has too much of the Hungry Stomach left in him, multiple skins meant multiple hungers, and he could not think, sometimes he would eat the spirits he was meant to help, but Ruptga would reach in and pull them out. Finally tired of helping Ruptga, Sep gathered the rest of the old skins and balled them up, tricking spirits to help him, promising them it was a way to reach a new world, by making one from the old. These spirits loved this, as it was an easier way of living, and there was no more jumping from place to place. 

The spirits on the skin balls started to die, they were too far from the real world, and they found it was too far to jump to the Far Shores. So those who were left pleaded with Ruptga to take them back, but he refused, and told them they must learn new ways to follow the stars, and if they could not they must live on through their children, as they had in the old ways. Sep needed more punishment though, and so Ruptga squashed him and the hunger fell out of his dead mouth, the only thing left of the Second Serpent. The rest of the new world was allowed to strive back to godhood, but Sep could only slink around in dead skin or swim about the sky, a hungry void that tried to eat the stars.

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Cyrodiilic Beliefs

Shezarr described to the gods something new. He described to them becoming mothers and fathers, responsibility and great sacrifice with no guarantee of success, but he spoke so beautifully and moved them to tears. So the Aedra gave birth to the world, the beasts and beings and made them from parts of themselves. This birth was painful and the Aedra did not retain their youth, strength or power.

Some Aedra were disappointed and bitter, angry with Shezarr and with creation, and felt he had lied and tricked them. These Aedra, gods of the Aldmer, led by Auri-El were disgusted with their feeble selves and believed that everything was spoiled forever. They taught the Elven race to suffer nobly with dignity, and said to seek vengeance upon Shezarr and his allies. 

Other Aedra looked upon creation pleased, they were the Gods of Men and Beast Folk, led by Akatosh, they praised and cherished their wards. They have suffered and are forever diminished but the mortal world was seen as glorious, and filled their spirits with hope. They taught the mortal races to live well and cherish, beautify and honor. 

The Gods of the Elves are, for this reason, seen as dark and brooding, and the Elves are never satisfied with their mortality, and proud and stoic despite the harshness of the world. The Gods of Men are seen as tender and patient and Men are loving and joyous, ambitious for greater wisdom. 

When the Daedra Lords heard Shezarr they mocked him and the other Aedra for cutting parts of themselves off, and losing them, and claimed that they, the Daedra were much smarter, for creating a new world out of themselves without cutting it off, and letting it take out from them. 

The Daedra then created the Daedric Realms of Oblivion, and the ranks of lesser Daedra. For the most part the Daedra Lords were pleased with this arrangement, for they had worshippers and servants, and paid nothing for it. However they often looked upon Mundus with envy, for mortals were foul and feeble, and more interesting and surprising than the lesser Daedra. So it gives them special pleasure to seduce mortals, stealing them from Shezarr and the Aedra. And the Daedra bragged that not only did they lose their power, but the Aedra could not even keep their creation on their side.

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Khajiit Beliefs 

They are clearly derived from Aldmeri pantheon and beliefs, their creation myth including reference to ancestor cats by and the original little mates. Ahnurr and Fadomai gave birth to all the great spiritual children including Alkosh the first cat, Khenarthi, Magrus, Mara, S’rendarr, and a second litter following, with Merrunz, Mafala, and Sangiin, among others. Ahnurr did not want more children but Fadomai was persuaded to birth one more litter, containing Azurah, Nirni and the moons. 

This angered Ahnurr who fled to the void, and Fadomai fled to the Void to birth Lorkhaj. Before Fadomai died, she gave Nirni a gift, to birth her own children.

Nirni went to Lorkhaj asking for a dwelling place for her children, and he gave one but at the price of tricking his siblings, forming the mortal plane and trapping many there with him. Nirni gave birth to her many children, various human and mer, though Azurah had also been given a gift by their mother and was given permission to take one of Nirnis children and reshape them to her own liking, as long as they were fast, clever and beautiful. So she chose a group of forest dwellers and formed the Khajiit. Nirni was furious and asked her sibling Y'ffre to punish the Khajiit.

He turned their grasslands into desert, and their forests into poisoned marshes. Though the Khajiit were protected by Azurah who taught them the secret of the moons (Lunar Lattice) and how to change their shapes to survive. The forest dwellers who stayed true to their mother Nirni became the Bosmer and were given the lush forests of Valenwood as their home. 

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Anuad

An annotation of the Annotated Anuad.

Anu and Padomay wandered the Void, and the interplay of Light and Dark created Nir, Anu and Padomay were amazed and delighted with her, however she only loved Anu, and Padomay retreated in bitterness. 

Nir became pregnant with Anu’s child, the Twelve Worlds of Creation, and before giving birth Padomay confessed his love to her, and when rejected, beat her in rage, causing Anu to cast Padomay outside of Time.

Nir gave birth to Creation and died from her injuries, and in grief, Anu hid inside the sun and slept. 

Life flourished on the twelve worlds, and eventually Padomay was allowed to return to Time. but in rage he swung his sword and destroyed the worlds. Padomay and Anu fought, Anu attempted to fix the worlds and forged the remnants into Nirn.

Padomay struck Anu and the two of them were cast outside of Time forever.

The only survivors of the old worlds left on Nirn were the Hist and the Ehlnofey. The Old Ehlnofey hid in a small safe pocket of the world, and kept their traditions alive and strong, while the Wandering Ehlnofey wandered the rest of Nirn.

The two groups eventually met up, and the Wanderers were expecting to be accepted by their kin, however instead a war broke out between the two, and sunk much of Nirn under the seas, leaving only Tamriel, Akavir, Atmora, and Yokuda.

The Old Ehlnofey realm became Tamriel, and the Wanderers were divided amongst the other continents. 

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Names by Pantheon

This specifically is about what can be deemed important to this post, as more alternative names and histories will be involved in separate posts.

Anu and Padomay are known by many different names, some of which imply that they are the same as their birthed souls, respectively other names for the pair include: Anu-Padomay, Aniel-Sithis, Ak-El, Satak-Akel, Is-Is Not Ahnurr-Fadomai.

Auri-El is the Mer name for the dragon god of time, but he is also known as Akatosh in the Nordic pantheon, and Alkosh in the Khajiiti pantheon.

The Aedra and Daedra are called Gods and Demons by the Nords, as Aedra and Daedra refers to the ancestral relation between them and the Mer.

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Misc.

It is believed that Orismer were created during this era, though it's unsure when.

The Dragon God is always related to Time and is revered as the First God, known as Akatosh, Auri-El, and Alkosh.

The Missing God is usually called Lorkhan, worshipped nearly as equal as his Dragon counterpart.

Most Humans see the plan to create Mundus as an act of mercy, as this is why they now exist, while most Mer see it as a cruel deception that destroyed their connection to immortality and the spirit plane.

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[49scribes-a]

ScribeRim: 1

Bookman was an old mer and the harshest cold of the Pale and Winterhold’s wild mountains always did a good job of reminding him of it. He was lament to say he couldn’t help wincing a little bit at the creak in his joints as he pushed through the snow, and the fact that he was neither the tallest of anyone in either human or elf kind made it no easier.

Weary eyes turned skyward as snowflakes continued to fall, gentle in their descent, but only adding to his troubles nonetheless. He was getting too old for this, especially for continuing his work at such an old age without any sort of students to pass on his work. He was, however, without any suitable students.

Those of the College were comparably young to him, but still old enough that retraining some of their skills and habits, to say nothing of their other interests, was a task he wasn’t keen on undertaking. Perhaps he might find someone far younger in other settlements, but parents were often protective of their young and wary of strangers, and to even those who knew him, wary of the dangers outside their villages.

He supposed his easiest option would be to travel to Riften and see what untapped potentials Honorhall might have there. Surely even Grelad the Kind must feel overwhelmed at times of all her young and orphaned charges, and glad to find one among them a suitable caregiver to take them off her hands. One less mouth to feed. Certainly it would likely be better in her eyes than them falling into doing work for the local Thieves.

He supposes he’s lingered already in the cold too long, continuing his path up the snowy hill between the rise of two jagged peaks. Just beyond the slope of Wayward Pass would be Nightgate Inn, a far more forgiving distance than heading all the way to either Windhelm or Whiterun to finally warm himself and sleep somewhere he might actually awaken the next morning.

The arch of the pass’s zenith provides some relief from the wind, and Bookman takes his while to observe the frozen skeletal remains of an ancient traveler that he has passed many a time heading to and fro the ancient Dwemer ruin of Alftand, keeping eternal vigil in honor.

It’s a moment that he pauses, over the remains and in observance of the small stone shrine to Arkay. While never one who would be caught devoutly attending any of Skyrim’s many temples to the Divines, be it whether he accepts Eight or the Nine that Men believe so strongly in, neither is he one to take for chance the ill-fated hazards of the climate. He wouldn’t necessarily call it faith so much as insurance. He loses nothing for giving a moment of attention to the supposed God of Life and Death, but perhaps he might gain an extra year for paying proper reverence every now and again. The irony of such a shrine placed beside a frozen skeleton is not lost to an old elf’s eyes.

“Blessed Arkay, please grant me safe passage from the north, that I might continue my work until I have a worthy heir who will see it continued through many ages following mine.”

Respects given, in word or in silence to both Arkay and the traveler in rest eternal, his sights turn to the other side of the pass, a far easier path to traverse, but still hazardous all the same with the slickness of frozen earth.

The journey, slow-going as it is, is ultimately worth it once the glittering, half-frozen pond and solitary inn finally comes into view, it’s thatched roof buried as it is. What he notices most is the smell of smoke wafting in the air, only faintly traceable through the bitter, frosted air. Far behind the lonely inn stands more jagged mountains climbing far into the sky, none moreso than the towering behemoth that is High Hrothgar and the Throat of the World standing between Whiterun and The Rift.

Nightgate is a considerably small inn of typical cobblestone-walled design, tucked away amongst snow-covered firs, glistening snowberry bushes, and half-buried mammoth bones poking out of the snowdrifts, and the first impression of the inside is equally as humbling.

The apparent size of the place is nothing worth worrying over when the heat from the fire and smell of fresh baked goods, cooked meats, and spiced stews reaches the senses however. Somewhere underlying that comes the familiar scent of garlic, dried frost miriam and elves ear so common in Nord homes. Less welcomed is the slow, thawing realization of cold still nipping at his fingers and face, and once again Bookman is reminded of his age with a reluctant sigh.

The innkeeper, an older man by Hadrig sporting a long scar and a blind eye to compliment his rugged beard, welcomes him in with curt friendliness and vague familiarity.

“Welcome. Feel free to take a seat by the fire. I’m sure I can still find a clean mug around here somewhere for something to warm to soothe you after your journey.”

“Thank you,” Bookman offers roughly, immediately scouring the room for a chair to pull up beside the fire. When he finds it, he makes himself at home. Nightgate doesn’t have a large hearth like many of the other inns, but anything is better than being exposed to the elements at this point. A quick glance tells him that among the other occupants is only a dark elf, probably a mercenary by the looks of it, and an aged, grumpy breton. “I would very much appreciate it. Some stew if you would as well, any kind.”

Hadrig nods understanding and stands from where he had been leaning over the counter, calling over the rickety wood railings of the stairs leading to the second level underground.

“Boys! We have a customer! Dish up some of that hunter’s stew.”

There’s a soft thunk somewhere, which Bookman’s trained ears immediately identify as a book smacking shut, unmistakable with how often he himself has delved into literature of all manner. Its followed by the light thump of two pairs of feet hopping up the stairs, in a flash of bright orange hair the dark can’t quite hide even in the deep shadows of the dancing firelight.

Bookman appraises the two who appear, both young males, probably breton if his eyes have yet to fail him. Oddly enough, they’re identical in appearance, all the way down to their closed right eyes, but their left eyes are contrasted in sharp, intelligent green. His first wonder is who and where their mother is. They’re not familiar from any previous visits, albeit it has been quite a few years, and there is no local woman he’s ever seen here that he could make a guess at having had them by looks alone.

They watch him back with an almost unnerving dualty, almost like a mirror of the other, but there’s something about the way they look him over in bold inquisition that he decides he likes. Just as quickly as they come to give him his bowl of stew, they’re gone again towards the stairs, and yet not once do their eyes leave him, especially one more than the other. He wonders where they’re off to in such a hurry, and then he remembers the sound of a book. Perhaps they have an interesting story to get back to, which must mean they can read, or at least try to.

“Are those boys yours?” Its very blunt and direct, but Bookman has never been one to mince words on meaningless chatter.

“I suppose you could say that,” Hadrig hums. “I’ve let them stay here the last couple of years, help with things at the inn here and there, but they’re not my children.”

“Is that so?” Bookman humors, pausing to sip down a spoonful of his food before deciding conversation would be a good way to pass the time while it cools anyway. “I’m guessing from how you speak of it that they aren’t children of your relatives either.”

Hadrig seems to catch on that his interest isn’t merely idle curiosity for curiosity's sake.

“A traveler brought them here a few years ago, found them out in the wilds while they were hunting, near-frozen as wee babes and brought them here to get them warm. They’ve been here ever since then, and I’ve let them stay until they’re old enough to go out on their own, maybe pick up work as apprentices to someone in Windhelm in a few years’ time.”

Bookman nodded his understanding. They were still very young, easily told by their size, but there’s still something admittedly skittish, he’d go so far as to say reminiscent of feral to their mannerisms. He wouldn’t say Hadrig was any sort of cruel to them, but perhaps not overly familial and attached either. More that he was offering temporary shelter to a few stray cats until they’re fit to leave again, especially with the harsh north being so treacherous a place to merely send them out on their own.

“If you’re not terribly set on having them stay past a couple more years, then perhaps I would be doing you a favor in taking them further south with me. Somewhere with better opportunities than out here.” He’s not entirely sure yet if they would be fit to take on being his apprentices, either now or in the future, but perhaps his small prayer to Arkay is being answered more readily than he would have anticipated.

“Well I certainly won’t complain, but I’m not their father. I can’t force them to go with anyone they don’t want to, and they’ve already got a few promising options to think about in Windhelm. You’re free to go down and discuss it with them if you wish.”

Bookman nodded his understanding. It was as he suspected then. While perhaps not exactly eager to be rid of them, he wasn’t reluctant either. It was a matter he didn’t care to either solve or hinder at his own expense.

Taking his while to warm up and eat first, Bookman took up Hadrig’s offer to see the two, heading down the stairs. The space below was lit by the glow of an oven, wafting the scents of fresh bread and pastries. Off to the side of it was a table, holding a few plates of fresh goods and a couple of books.

It took only a moment of looking and glancing around the other side of the oven to find the boys curled up together in the corner behind it, backs pressed to the warm stone with a book open between them.

Bookman didn’t interrupt at first, instead walking to the larger wood table to take a look at what choice of literature they had to peruse. Among them, he found The Madmen of the Reach, Report: Disaster at Ionith, Troll Slaying, Fall from Glory, The Great War, and Rising Thread Vol.II; all titles he was familiar with. While there were far more difficult reads among Tamriel’s literature, many of which Bookman had had the pleasure of delving into in his time at the College’s Arcaneum, they were certainly nothing easy to read and understand for children who could be no older than eight at most.

“Tell me,” he interrupts, though it’s not much of an interruption from what he can tell, each of their single eyes already on him. “What book are you reading now?”

They give each other a silent glance, as if wondering whether to even humor the old High Elf with their time, before looking back at him and shrugging.

“Th’ Bear of Markarth,” one of them answers. He seems the bolder of the two, if anything were to be told between them, and he thinks it's probably the one who was watching him more intensely than the other before.

“And do you know what it says?” Bookman inquired.

The same boy who answered nodded his head, while the other merely watched Bookman curiously.

“I’ talks about Ulfric Stormcloak an’ when he attacked Markarth t’ take it back from the Forsworn natives that lived in the Reach, an’ that’s how Skyrim got to be stuck in a Civil War ‘cuz Ulfric demanded free Talos worship ‘fore he’d give Markarth back to the Empire an’ made the Aldmeri D’minion mad ‘bout the White-Gold Cucordit.”

“Concordit,” Bookman corrected. Still, for what youthful lack of more difficult words the boy had, Bookman had to admit that he was just a touch impressed with how quickly and easily the boy recited the contents of the book. “And you read this all by yourselves?” After all, he could simply be repeating what he was told the book talked about, but somehow Bookman didn’t think it was only that.

“Mhm.”

“I see…” Bookman hummed, turning his gaze to the stacks of books. “And all of these as well?”

Both nodded at his inquiry, the other one who remained silent sitting up a little more attentively.

“Do the two of you enjoy reading and learning new things?”

It was the second boy who answered him, this time with a quick nod and a slightly friendlier glance than the other.

“My brother and I read all sorts of books. We’ve read those ones at least a dozen times an’ a bunch more in Windhelm when we go down there t’help make deliveries an’ things.”

Bookman hums at the boy’s enthusiasm, and notices how sharply the other keeps his eye on him.

“If you’ve read lots of books, then you probably know what a scholar is, correct?” It might not be an accurate guess, but he hopes so. It would make explaining himself much easier.

“A scholar is some’on’ who reads a lot an’ sometimes writes books on things they know about ‘at other people don’t, isn’ it?” The two glance at each other as if to reaffirm this, the more enthusiastic one nodding with a smile before they return to looking at Bookman.

“That’s correct. A scholar is someone who studies and learns all about the world, often about mysteries ill understood by others, who crave new knowledge and discoveries. I’m only one of many who has devoted their life to this, and I’m wondering if perhaps the two of you might be interested in doing the same with your lives.”

They blink at him in perfect unison, glance at each other again, and seem to give it a moment of serious thought, as though the possibility never occurred to them, but neither did it cross their minds they wouldn’t want to.

One of them, the more enthusiastic, nudges the other in the ribs as if to say we have to do it, voice coming in a whisper that isn’t quite quiet enough to conceal.

“Can we really?”

The other hums under his breath, eye downcast at the floor for a moment, then back to Bookman in question.

“Aren’t scholars all old, stuffy guys?”

Bookman could almost laugh. Such blunt statements that could only come from a child.

“A scholar is anyone who wishes to learn the world the way no one else does and see things never seen before, and then show their findings to anyone who will pick up the book they’ve written about it. The sooner you start, the wiser you’ll be when you’re old.”

“It is fun being smart…” one of them mutters under their breath, and receives a soft elbow jab immediately after.

“So how d’we be scholars?”

“First,” Bookman begins, “You find yourselves a teacher.”

There’s a small pause, and then, “And that’s you?”

“If that’s what you want me to be.”

“And then what?”

“Then, I teach you things no one else can, so that you can go on to see and learn things no one else before has. Do you wish to become my apprentices and see all the secrets Skyrim has to offer?”

There’s only a moment of hesitation, exchanged glances, gnawed lips, before they come to an unspoken, mutual decision and nod.

“We do.”

“Very well,” Bookman nods his approval, and silently thanks whatever Divines or Daedra decided their meeting should happen. “Then I accept you both as heirs to Bookman.”