Elder Scroll series 1. Chapter 1

Hey all, Brea here, I hope you are all enjoying your reading on fanfiction net I certainly am!

But anyway, this is my first fic so, please bear with me.

This fic contains spoilers for the game Oblivion. It takes place two years after the end of the main quest.

A disclaimer.

This is an Oblivion fanfic. All things that are copyrighted to Bethesda and the Elder Scrolls series, belongs to them. Charsi, Kyle, Blackish, and all other original characters belong to me unless otherwise noted in a disclaimer.

In other words most of the things in this story are going to belong to them, not me. I'm just the one that got inspired, and most of the words are mine, I admit I will quote the game from time to time however.

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Symbols Used

(This section with be updated as needed)

/_This_/ is someone's thoughts

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_/It was almost two years ago when the Oblivion gates were finally closed forever. When the hero of Kvatch rose up to become the Champion of all Cyrodiil. Some say that the Champion was a Beautiful Imperial woman, others that she was an Altmer. But my son was at the battle that ended it all in the Imperial city. He __saw the Champion, and He said that she was a bosmer. And then there are the rumors of what happened to Martin the Heir, and what kind of relationship the two had maintained._

_Yes, it was a rather crazy time back then, all those rumors flying about. And on a local note, an oblivion gate opened around the same time as the City's attack, only a half mile away from where I stand! If you were to go out to the end of the grain-field you could see some of the blackened spikes still standing off by the forest. And yet mine was the first farmstead in the area to fully recover from the devastation of that year. /_

"Charsi ma'am!" That was Kyle; he was usually out dealing with one of the farm's various animals. "Charsi, Blakish got loose again, he's broken Hime's arm and run off toward the old Gate." He finished his sentence as he took the handful of porch stairs two at a time.

Charsi, roused from her speculations, stood up from her rocker and faced her friend. "Son, I wont even ask how that troublesome creature got out of his pen," she then grabbed a pair of boots from inside the door of the farmhouse, and started pulling them on, "I will however ask how and where is Hime?"

"Oh, he'll be alright ma'am, m'wife was takin' him to our cot to patch up his arm. But what are we gonna do about Blackish this time?" Kyle leaned against the porch rail as he recovered from running half way across the farm to get here. It was nearly Harvest's End and all the farm hands were out working to bring in the last of the crops.

"This is what, the third time this month that s'wit of a gelding got loose?"

"Yes'm, and likely the only time the beast didn't hurt the crops nor fences."

"Auhg, don't remind me. I really don't think we can afford to keep him much longer. If you can't tame that creature by First Seed, and we cant find a buyer for him, I think we'll have to have horse stew around then." She stood up slowly, her back creaking, "Well, anyway, let's sees if we can't catch up to Blackish before nightfall."

"Charsi, ma'am, I hate to say this but you're getting too old to be chasing after skittish horses."

"And you're too good a horse talker for that damn thing to be so skittish, but it is anyway."

Kyle sighed and followed after the aging farm owner. He really was a damnably good horse talker, and they'd never had a problem before. But every time he seemed to make some progress with Blackish, the next day he'd regress and try to break loose of his pen.

They were heading to the remains of the gate at a brisk walk, and could see Blackish prancing about there. They stopped by the stable and pens, which held two other horses, and three pigs. There they picked up a walking stick, lantern, and a lasso incase Kyle couldn't talk Blackish into coming back with them as he usually did.

The sun was just beginning to set as they reached the ruins of the gate, and Blackish was grazing on the nearby grasses calmly. When Kyle was almost within arms reach of the horse, and Charsi was readying the lasso, Blackish suddenly raised his head and stared at the forest edge.

Blackish was visibly tense to the point of trembling, and the whites of his eyes were showing. Kyle hardly dared to breathe for fear that he'd startle the beast into bolting._ /Blackish isn't even acknowledging that we're here... Something isn't right. /_

And just as Kyle finished the thought Blackish reared up bellowing forth a terror filled scream, before bolting straight for the forests edge a mere thirty feet away. But before Charsi or Kyle were even halfway across the short distance Blackish returned. Just a few feet from the first trees, he stood, looked deliberately at them and neighed.

Baffled Charsi, and Kyle continued to approach cautiously. Charsi was almost within range to lasso him when Blackish stomped and turned back into the forest at a trot. It was thus that Blackish led them through the forest until twilight was just beginning to fade.

By this time they had figured out that Blackish wasn't just trying to get away from them, but actually trying to lead them somewhere. And as they stopped to light their lantern Blackish stomped impatiently.

"Ma'am, I have never seen a horse act so strangely in my life... I, it..."

"It's damn uncanny that's what it is," Charsi filled in when Kyle stumbled to find the right words. "And I swear if there is nothing at the end of this to show for our patience then I don't care if you can tame the beast, I'm selling him." _/I'm too damn old to be doing this, and if Blackish is smart enough to be leading us around, he's smart enough to know that. /_

"I can't say I object to that, I think it's obvious now that he's not suited as a plow horse."

"Indeed." Charsi leaned heavily on her walking stick as Kyle finally got the lantern lit and secured.

Blackish snorted at them as they approached him, he could never understand how these two legged things took so long to understand him. But that doesn't matter, he heard the call, it sounded kind of like the two legs do, so he brought them with.

The three of them entered a shadowed clearing in the trees. Blackish stopped and smelt the air to find the exact location of the one he heard. Having gotten his bearings, Blackish strode over to a sickly looking shrub of some kind and stomped meaningfully.

Charsi glanced from Blackish to Kyle, "Here Kyle, I'll hold the lantern, you look in the bush..."

"All right ma'am," Kyle gagged as a breeze started up and brought a stench from the direction of the shrubbery. "Can't say as I blame ya, smells like somethin' died."

Holding the lantern aloft Charsi looked on as Kyle parted the branches of the shrubbery and tried to find the source of the stench. Curiosity had as much a hold on her now as it would have twenty years ago; this evening had just been so odd.

Kyle stopped short about halfway through the bushes, "By the Nine! There's a person in here!" He motioned for Charsi to come closer as he knelt to get a better look.

"Are they alive?" Charsi asked in a hushed voice as she worked her way through the bush to where Kyle was. "Oh!" She gasped as she saw the bloody half naked body.

"I think she's alive... But likely wont be for much longer." Kyle began to gently gather the tortured body into his arms.

"Really? You don't say." The sarcasm oozed from Charsi's words like venom. "Well, come on, take Blackish and get her to that wife of yours. If anyone can help she'd be the one."

"But how will you?"

"I'll walk just like I got here. I'll be fine." Charsi walked over to Blackish and glared right into his huge dark eyes. "If you so much as think about giving trouble to that child that you brought us to find, I will know, and I will send you off to become glue, understand?"

Blackish shook his head and snorted, he didn't know what the old two legs was saying but it didn't seem very nice. But before he could decide whether to bite the old one or not, the hurt one stirred and moaned in pain, calling to him once again. She was dying here; she needed help from the two legs... Blackish knelt down carefully so that the strong two legs could get on his back without setting the hurt one down, and he snorted at them when the two legs hesitated.

"Well... Stay safe ma'am, I don't think I'll be having too much trouble from Blackish on the way home." Kyle was settling himself and the girl so that they didn't fall when Blackish stood back up. She was semi conscious it seemed, and becoming more so as the moments passed.

"I will," Charsi smacked Blackish's rump, "Now get up and go you demon!"

Startled by the shout and the sharp thump on his ass Blackish got up more suddenly than he had meant to, almost dislodging his passengers. He waited just a short moment then before taking off at a gallop.

"Feh, bloody horse." Charsi muttered to herself as she followed the path out of the forest that the horse made as he tore through the underbrush. _/I wonder if maybe he'll start behaving after tonight.../_

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Note: I finally got it spell checked, if there are any obvious mistakes that I missed, please review and let me know so I can fix it! (Also, dont yell at me about the gramatical errors in the speach of the characters, that's just the way they talk.)

Well, that's the first chapter of my little story. Comments and constructive criticism are welcome.


	2. Chapter 2

Wow, so uhm, it's been a long time since I wrote anything here. I'm not dead yet, just really, really inconsistent, sorry. Currently my only beta is myself, but I've received an offer, so quality should pick up a bit once I've gotten that worked out. Now on to the disclaimers:

--

This fic contains spoilers for the game Oblivion. It takes place two years after the end of the main quest.

A disclaimer.

This is an Oblivion fanfic. All things that are copyrighted to Bethesda and the Elder Scrolls series, belongs to them. Charsi, Kyle, Blackish, and all other original characters belong to me unless otherwise noted in a disclaimer.

In other words most of the things in this story are going to belong to them, not me. I'm just the one that got inspired, and most of the words are mine. I admit I will quote the game from time to time however.

--

Symbols Used

This section with be updated as needed

/_This_/ is someone's thoughts

--

The Bosmer woke to warmth and darkness. "Where," she tried to speak, and her voice though a bare whisper burned like fire and knives in her throat. _/Where am I?/ _ she thought as she struggled to sit up. Despite the weight of the blankets cocooning her, and the weakness of her body she finally managed.

She lay there propped against the headboard of the small bed staring through the gloom trying to remember how she got here. The last thing she remembered was placing an offering on a shrine in the wilderness, and then darkness and laughter, terribly cruel laughter. Shaking her head to try and clear it of the memory, or the haunting lack of it, she slung her legs over the side of the bed.

_/Is there no blamed lantern in here?/ _she thought as she used the bare bedside table to steady herself as she stood up. _/At least I can stand, even if I cant see./_ Making her way slowly and carefully across the dark room towards the line of light that was the door she realized that though she was having trouble staying balanced she wasn't as weak as she had feared. _/Don't go getting too proud, it's nothing compared to what you were./_

She made it to the door with no more trouble than stubbing her toe on a stool in the middle of the room. Yet as she opened the door she jumped in surprise, there was someone standing right there! They had probably been about to reach for the door themselves.

/_No, wait... That's just a mirror!/ _Her brows furrowed as she studied what she realized was her own reflection. She was clad in a white night gown, simple, unrevealing, and comfortable. Her skin was somewhat tanned and freckled, and scars dotted and slashed what she could see of her skin. She was bandaged on her arms, and that would also explain the tightness around her chest and stomach, though she couldn't see those bandages. But the face was what baffled her the most.

_/This is, _my_ face? But I don't recognize../ _Her thoughts were confused as she reached a thin and calloused hand to touch her bruised face and shorn hair. Her eyes were large and dark, you could not see the whites, they were like the eyes of an animal. And her hair, shorn to ear-length, was coarse, tangled, and _/Purple?/_ But most notable of all was the long pale scar running along the right side of her jaw, quite nearly four inches in length.

_/Who _am_ I?/_ The room began to spin as she tried to recall, and her vision was becoming blurred. _/I think I had better go back to bed./_ So she stumbled with much less grace back to the bed, leaving the door half open.

Lying there propped gracelessly against the headboard, she stopped her whirling thoughts to try and work this through, slowly. _/Okay. First thing, real easy, what's my name. Remalia Tilfam, and... I was born in Valenwood./_

A tiny smile crossed her face as memories of her childhood, and the beautiful city she had grown up in, played through her mind. How she apprenticed herself to professional scout and tracker at 17, and actually stuck with it until her mentor had no more to teach her. (Quite a feat for a young Bosmer, or so she had been told.) How she ended up in Kvatch afterwards, looking for work. How she had learned her first spell (a very minor healing spell) from one of the priests at the chapel there.

A memory flashed in her mind. Fighting for her life, in scant armor, against an opponent disabled similarly. Of crowds screaming at them, but she was unable to tell who the spectators were for or against. _/Now how did I get there? Oh yes, I wasn't getting any contracts from the guild. So I followed the rumor of glory and riches to the arena in the capital. But I didn't get very far with that./_

No, indeed Remalia hadn't gotten far with her budding career as an arena combatant. Instead, within a week of her arrival she found herself thrown into a jail cell. Apparently she had forgotten to pay her for her inn room in a timely fashion and the cheapskate of an innkeep told the guard she had stolen something. She couldn't remember why exactly.

From that point her memories overtook her like a tidal wave overtakes the land. A blur from the Emperor dying, to being sent to find his heir, then to get the amulet back, and then to restart the fires. And then, she was at that shrine. Why couldn't she remember where it was, and who it was in honor of?

_/And there's something I'm forgetting, there was someone I was, working for? Someone who asked me to do all those things. But I can't remember anything about them. I think it was a man. Or was it a woman? Were there two people? Damn it all, I cant remember./_ She sighed and continued thinking. _/Well, at least I remember that I was working with people. I still can't recall how I got from that shrine to here, nor how I got hurt. It's just blank, like I fell asleep./_

Someone knocked at the doorframe. "Yes. I'm awake." Remalia said, coming back to reality. Her voice was ragged, and speaking hurt, but it wasn't _too_ much more painful than when she wasn't speaking.

"Oh, good. Was that door open when you woke up, dear?" The motherly voice of an older woman was quickly followed by the aging Dunmer woman who entered the room. Although age had stooped her frame a bit, she was still a tall woman, and she looked as though she was well accustomed to hard work. Her skin was dark and weathered, and her dark red eyes framed by smile lines. Her expressive face was topped by a mass of white hair pulled back into a practical knot at her neck.

Remalia shook her head, "I opened it. Don't know," she paused to swallow to trying to lessen the pain, "where this is." The Bosmer eyed the steaming mugs that the old woman was carrying as she headed to the bedside.

"Well, my name is Charsi," the old Dunmer said as she set the mugs down on the bedside table and pulled the stool over, "as to where this is. This is the guest room of my farm house, and my farm is just a few miles out from the vineyards of Skingrad." She smoothed her skirts and took a sip from the mug nearest her. "That mug there," she nodded at the mug still on the table, "has lemon and honey tea, you were coughing and wheezing in your sleep. I was coming in here to see if I couldn't wake you to drink some."

Remalia took the warm mug in her hands, it wasn't quite as hot as it looked, but she blew on it before taking a sip anyway. "Thank you, I'm Remalia." She fidgeted to get a more comfortable position against the headboard, and under the blanket. "I appreciate you taking me in... I can't remember how I got here, or how I was injured." The tea was actually helping. Whether it was the ingredients or the temperature, she didn't know, but one of them was numbing her throat fairly well.

Charsi's brows furrowed in concern, "We found you more than just half dead, about a week ago, in the forest just off my property. You've been having fever dreams most of the week, your fever only started going down two days ago." She reached out to feel for a fever, and Remalia let her, something about this old woman seemed very trustworthy. "As I thought, you do still have a bit of fever. That why you got back to bed 'stead of explorin' when you opened up the door?"

A genuine smile crossed the young Bosmer's face, she hadn't been teased in so long. "Yeah, got dizzy. Is there more tea?" She was about half done with her mug, and she wasn't sure she'd need it, but having more for later would be nice.

"Of course, and we'll get you some broth in a bit too, if you think you're up to it." Charsi laughed. "I hate to pry dear, but just what _do_ you remember? Since you don't remember gettin here in such a state," the woman asked setting her mug down to take Remalia's hand and begin removing the delicate bandages that cocooned the Bosmer's palm all the way up to her elbow.

"I," she winced, while most of the bandaging had a bit of ointment still left on the side that was against her skin, a small strip hadn't, and it hurt like the fires of Oblivion when Charsi pulled it off. "What in the name of," she examined her arm as more of it appeared from beneath the wrappings, "Burns. How much of my wounds are like this?"

"Just this arm. It is most peculiar, isn't it? Anyway, you were saying?" Charsi was now patting the burned arm dry with a cloth she pulled from her skirt pocket.

"Oh. Yes, well. I am a member of the Fighter's guild, just an associate though, and that's usually kept me fairly well fed and sheltered. I'd been staying at the Leyawiin guild house, but I hadn't gotten any job requests for weeks so I was heading to Bravil. I was little better off than a beggar. I was considering either selling my horse, or making stew out of the poor beast. The last thing I can recall is camping cold about halfway. And then it's like I fell asleep there and woke up here," and that was the truth, well except for that bit about the camping cold. And for all that she trusted this woman to tend her wounds and not poison what she ate; Remalia knew she sounded insane as it was. There was no reason to worsen that image with the idea that she was leaving an offering at a shrine, and then either abducted by a deity, or fainting on the spot to be left to the mercy of the cultists present.

_/Cultists? There _were_ other people there, weren't there? There usually aren't worshipers at way-shrines. Was it a _daedric_ shrine I was at? Why would I leave something for one of _them_?/_

"Well, at least we know something, although Leyawiin is a damn long way from here," Charsi sighed and stood up, "I'm goin' to get fresh bandages and some more ointment. Did you want any broth?"

"Mm, yes please, I feel like I have an empty pit instead of a stomach."

"Well, after I get that arm of yours rebound, I have to go see what's gotten done today, and preside over supper. But I'll send my nephew in with some broth and a bit of bread, so that empty pit doesn't turn into a cavern." Charsi smiled, she wasn't sure if she genuinely liked the young woman or if she was just overcome by pity.

/Poor dear. Whether she actually can't remember getting here or not, no crime is so bad as to warrant such abuse as punishment. I'll have to check with the fighters' guild to see what they know of her, and if she's telling the truth, perhaps they can help her./ Charsi shook her head as she walked down the hall. /Only time can tell us what kind of person she is, I just hope I didn't take in some kind of psychotic murderer./

_--_

That first evening passed pleasantly. When Hime brought Remalia her supper, she told him stories of Valenwood while he nibbled on the bread that she couldn't eat. Hime thought he might get Aunt Charsi to let him have supper with this stranger sometimes; her stories were far more interesting than the farm business the grownups normally talked about at supper.

After the family had supper, and Hime and his parents had gone back to their cabin, Charsi sat at her desk composing a letter to the regional Fighter's Guild authority requesting a meeting, she'd be sending it in a few days with the tax wagon when it came. Speaking of which, she needed to finish calculating how much of their crops they needed to send this year. She tried not to use much actual currency for taxes, she tried to save that for buying supplies, the merchants around here were rather snobbish when it came to bartering.

_--_

Ah-Malz was baffled. Taxmen don't give things they take, but apparently the rest of the world has forgotten that. It wasn't just the strangeness of a taxman delivering a letter that unsettled him, the contents of the letter itself were rather odd as well. /_A Bosmer named Remalia/_ that name sounded familiar, but it certainly wasn't one of the local guild-members. Ah-Malz sighed, he'd helped Charsi with a goblin problem a while back; she was an honest woman, nothing like her brethren in Morrowind province.

If the Bosmer had lied about being a guild associate then there's a good chance she could pose a threat. But Ah-Malz had no way of knowing whether she was or not, as far as he knew the only comprehensive list of guild members was in the Guildmaster's possession. He frowned as he considered what could happen in the time it would take for a reply to come from Chorrol; His experience in bloodshed was too great for his thoughts to be anything but dark.

"You're lookin' a tad green about the gills Ama, what's wrong?" An elven woman with glittering green eyes sat herself across the table from Ah-Malz. She grinned and speared a bite of sausage off his plate while she listened to his annoyed retort; It was so fun to get a rise out of 'Ama.'

"By the Nine, Parwen! Argonians do _not_ have gills! And that is _my_ sausage." He glared.

"Aw, you know I'm just playing Ama." Chomp-Chomp. "Seriously though," chomp, "Ama you look rather a-" She fell silent as the fork bearing yet another bite of Ah-Malz' breakfast was snatched from her hand.

"Annoyed? I wonder why." The look the Argonian was giving Parwen was venomous. "I've told you a million times not to call me that ridiculous name, and"

"It's just because you're so cute when you're vexed." She grinned cheekily.

Ah-Malz made a reptilian noise in the back of his throat that described his exasperation better than any words ever could. "Why I don't just cut your tongue from your head I will never understand, but despite your juvenile need to make a pest of yourself you are correct."

"Huh?" Parwen sat down, a perplexed expression plain on her face. 'Ama' never agreed with her if he could help it.

"I've a problem, you git of an elf. And I would appreciate it if you could be helpful for once." The lizard gestured at her with the envelope.

She looked at him suspiciously before snatching the letter from his grasp. "I'm always helpful, you just never want it." She told him pertly as she opened the letter and started reading. "Huh… So you want me to run this to headquarters then?"

Ah-Malz nodded, "Yes, and in the mean time I will be checking in with madam Charsi myself. You've got the fastest steed in town. How did you afford to buy into the stock that those Black Horse Couriers breed from anyway?"

"Oh, Ama, don't you know? That horse was a gift!" She grinned, "It sure is nice having friends, you should give it a try sometime."

"I said to stop calling me that." Ah-Malz sighed.

"I know," and with that Parwen took her cheeky self and the letter away towards the stable.


End file.

Elder Scroll series