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aethuviel · 4 years

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TES Elves lifespan and fertility

I’ve been playing Skyrim for four years, and am fairly new to TES lore. One of the things I wonder, like many others, is how long do the races of mer (talking the three now, falmer and orcs don’t count) live, and how do they avoid overpopulation with their obviously lengthy lifespans (and as horny as they seem to be)?

I’ve read around on various discussion forums where people ask these same questions, but never found a satisfying answer.

The common answers to the lifespan questions are “up to 1000″, sourced from The Real Barenziah, but this was just written in an in-universe book, which makes it unreliable at best, and the second common answer is “max ~300, unless they’re using magic to extend their lives”, because an official quote from Bethesda goes like this:

"Elves live two to three times as long as humans and the “beast-races” (Orcs, Khajiiti, Argonians). A 200-year-old Elf is old; a 300-year-old Elf is very, very old indeed. Anyone older than that has prolonged his or her lifespan through powerful magic."

But I call BS on this, because it’s broken by the world itself.

Examples (all powerful mages and wizards are excluded, for obvious reasons):

- Avrusa and Aduri Sarethi are Dunmer farmer in the Rift, and according to Avrusa, she used to have a shop (meaning she was an adult) in Morrowind before the eruption of the Red Mountain, 196 years ago. That puts her and her sister at well over 200 years old, and Aduri gives the impression of being young (her girly voice). - Lleril Morvayn and Adril Arano (and add to that Adril’s wife Cindiri) have ruled Solstheim together for 136 years, Lleril taking over after his mother’s death, and they show no sign of being particularly old. - Legate Fasendil is an Altmer soldier who was “stationed in Hammerfell” (meaning, an adult) 159 years ago, and he does not appear old.

- The only one I can find to sort of confirm the Bethesda quote is Elynea Mothren, mycologist at Tel Mithryn, who says she remembers the eruption of Red Mountain as a “little girl”, and that she’s “an old woman now”, which she certainly looks like. She would be perhaps in her early 200s.

The third common claim about mer lifespan is from a quote that follows like this:

Well, I'm fifty, done my twenty years in the Service, and I'm in the prime of life. I expect another fifty good years, and then I'll be old, and slow, chatting with gaffers around the hearth for another twenty, thirty years. I've known mer still mind-sharp in their late hundreds, and heard of folk 200 and older. My family usually makes it to 120-130, providing we don't get sick or poked in the eye.

But this brings us back to The Real Barenziah. Many claims are made in it, such as...

"I think Straw will be a very old man before 'someday' comes, Berry. Elves live for a very long time." Katisha's face briefly wore the envious, wistful look humans got when contemplating the thousand-year lifespan Elves had been granted by the gods. True, few ever actually lived that long as disease and violence took their respective tolls. But they could. And one or two of them actually did.

Now, this book was approved by Barenziah herself, but that does not assure us of its accuracy, only that she liked it.

But I think this is still closer to the truth than “a 300 year old elf is very, very old indeed”, because of all the things that are unreliable in TRB, what is set in stone is the birth year of Barenziah and her children.

Barenziah and Symmachus had Helseth (now one can doubt whether Symmachus is actually Helseth’s father, but that is for another time) in 3E 376, when Barenziah was a whopping 379 years old. She then had two more children in the next couple of decades, her third and last child born when she was 394 or 395 years old.

There is to my knowledge no claim at all that Barenziah was using magic to extend her life (nor Symmachus for that matter, and he was three decades older than her, slain in battle at the age of 422). And it is confirmed by the lore that she became a mother of three at nearly four centuries old. So this wipes that quote by Bethesda completely, in my opinion.

TRB quotes on elven fertility:

"You ought to meet some nice Elven boys, though. If you go on keeping company with Khajiits and humans and what have you, you'll find yourself pregnant in next to no time."

Barenziah smiled involuntarily at the thought. "I'd like that. I think. But it would be inconvenient, wouldn't it? Babies are a lot of trouble, and I don't even have my own house yet."

"How old are you, Berry? Seventeen? Well, you've a year or two yet before you're fertile, unless you're very unlucky. Elves don't have children readily with other Elves after that, even, so you'll be all right if you stick with them."

And later, after banging Talos for a time...

"You appear to be with child, young as you are. Constant pairing with a human has brought you to early fertility.”

Barenziah then marries Symmachus immediately following Tiber Septim’s death. This is said to be “half a century” later, which would put Barenziah at almost 70 years old, but the actual year Tiber Septim died was in 3E 38, when she was ~41 years old. Anyhow. (Goes back to how unreliable the books are.)

The years passed swiftly, with crises to be dealt with, and storms and famines and failures to be weathered, and plots to be foiled, and conspirators to be executed. Mournhold prospered steadily. Her people were secure and fed, her mines and farms productive. All was well -- save that the royal marriage had produced no children. No heirs.

Elven children are slow to come, and most demanding of their welcome -- and noble children more so than others. Thus many decades had come to pass before they grew concerned.

Some three centuries later...

Directly after the Nightingale's theft of the Staff of Chaos, Symmachus had sent urgent secret communiques to Uriel Septim. He had not gone himself, as he would normally have, choosing instead to stay with Barenziah during her fertile period to father a son upon her.

Speaking about the Nightingale some time later, when Barenziah was pregnant...

"Dark Elf in part, perhaps," said Barenziah, "but part human too, I think, in disguise. Else would I not have come so quickly to fertility."

From this we can draw that, 1) Elven women become fertile around the age of 18-20 2) They conceive easier with other races, rather than with male elves (implying that both sexes have low fertility), and can even be brought to fertility faster by sleeping around a lot with other races 3) And by her eventual pregnancy leading to the birth of Helseth, we are to believe that the Nightingale didn’t touch her, but that simply the passion she felt for him made her fertile, after centuries of no results.

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And when Tiber “Talos” Septim forces a child (as he viewed her) to have an abortion (I am forever disgusted with Talos for this), the Altmer healer says:

"Sire. It is her child. Children are few among the Elves. No Elven woman conceives more than four times, and that is very rare. Two is the usual number. Some bear none, even, and some only one. If I take this one from her, Sire, she may not conceive again."

It is widely quoted but again, a book in-game is not a reliable source, and while looking around Dunmer names in ESO, I found a fellow named Quell Andas, who has four siblings.

Unless, for some reason, they are called siblings but there are at least two mothers involved (i.e. half-siblings), or they’re lying, this is a case of an elf woman bearing five children. I’m sure there could be more cases among any of the mer if I looked further.

So that healer was at least not being entirely truthful.

But it does make sense that the mer would have much lower fertility, on both sides (males and females), simply as a price to pay for their long lifespans.

Humans live for about seventy years. Women are fertile from about 15-45, a 30 year “baby bearing window”, if you will.

The fact that Barenziah was pregnant three times in her late 300s, says not just that they live that long, but that she had not entered menopause - if elves even have that.

Her first pregnancy was when she was 17-18. Her last, at 394-395. That is, for her, a “baby bearing window” of at least 376 years. And there is nothing, I might add, in the books to imply surprise or shock that Barenziah bore children at that age.

With a human’s 30 year fertility window, in a world of no contraception, some rare women can have 20 or more children.

Now increase that to 300+ years, and if elves were as fertile as humans, an elf woman could birth a hundred children in her life, as easily as a human could birth ten. This would lead to an insanely unsustainable population growth, as elves are people(!) and we cannot compare them to animals that have that many offspring (since those are typically unintelligent animals where almost all die soon after birth).

Since they live for centuries but can have children at twenty, this also means children can be surrounded by a long line of ancestors. Not just grandparents, but great-great-great grandparents, and so on, people living on and using up resources for much longer. This means population growth has to be slow.

So, to keep a normal population growth at 2-4 children for most people (with some having more and some having none), elves naturally have to be much less fertile to “pay” for their lenghty lifespans.

We don’t know why, if it’s by some divine power, nature, or whathaveyou, but I imagine (absolutely no source on this, just my imagination) mer women might have much rarer ovulations, like once a year instead of once a month (imagine only some 3 fertile days per year instead of some 36 days), or requiring some special “event” to ovulate (as TRB implies), and that male mer have heavily reduced sperm counts compared to other races.

That would make sense, but is only my personal speculation.

And as for lifespan, I still choose to believe TRB, as while statements in it are unreliable, we know a woman had multiple children near her 400th birthday, with no known magical intervention to slow down her aging. That couldn’t have happened unless all elves could live to a thousand, but most die during the centuries from injury or disease.

#Skyrim #TES #The Elder Scrolls #Barenziah #The Real Barenziah #mer #Dunmer #Altmer #Bosmer #elves #high elves #dark elves #wood elves #tes lore

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nerevar-quote-and-star · 4 months

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Elynea Mothren: So, Master Neloth, what are you bringing this year for the Saturalia dinner?

Neloth: My negative attitude and sparkling personality!

Elynea Mothren: Well whilst you're at it, could you get some more mince pies? Nixiel and Talvas have nearly gobbled them all.

Neloth: They haven't already?

#Elynea Mothren #neloth #tel mithryn #oc: nixiel verea #talvas fathryon #house telvanni #saturalia #nerevar queue and star #incorrect quotes #incorrect elder scrolls #incorrect skyrim quotes #tes #the elder scrolls #skyrim #the elder scrolls v: skyrim #source: tumblr

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skyrim-fanfiction · 7 years

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Non-canonically smutty smutty smut smut featuring Neloth. Posting it now because it’s, apparently, not posted yet? It’s old. It’s explicit! Eh, lite dom. Enjoy!

As I’m sitting in the creaky chair, one arm slung over the back, I groan, “What in Oblivion does Neloth need me for?” Elynea Mothren has her back turned to me, grinding something roughly in a mortar. She isn’t paying any attention to me. Instead she’s shaking her head.

“I don’t ask Master Neloth what his business is,” Elynea grumbled. “If he sent for you then you’ll know soon enough.”

Of course, I think bitterly. I shouldn’t have expected anything more than that.

A day ago I’d been in Raven Rock, drinking sujamma and thinking about when the last time I had a man in my bed was when Drovas slipped into the Retching Netch and handed me a letter.

Come to Tel Mithryn immediately. That was all it said in scratchy, rushed handwriting. Trudging across the island, I grumbled and complained but still found myself at the door of Tel Mithryn; the door to the lab was locked but Elynea was in her room. So I found myself waiting for Neloth with the annoyed mycologist. An annoyed mycologist who seemed intent on mashing whatever was in the bowl into dust.

But just when I think the sound of stone on stone is about to drive me mad, the door swings open and Neloth’s disinterested eyes immediately find mine. “It seems you aren’t entirely incompetent then. Come along.”

With his robes swishing around him, Neloth takes wide, long strides down the giant slope of the overgrown mushroom tower. My own feet were scrambling to catch up with him. “Any chance you’re going to tell me what this is about? I was busy drowning myself in alcohol when I got your little note.”

Neloth didn’t bother looking back at me but waved a dismissive hand. “As if I have the time. You wouldn’t understand if I explained so it will be better if I just show you.”

There was no point in asking anything further; the mad wizard wouldn’t divulge more than he already had. Now that I was here, I was stuck following him up another ramp and into another room, this one more lavishly furnished. Upon seeing the bed and a few other more personal items, I realized we were in Neloth’s bedroom. My heart raced a little; this is where Neloth slept. Among other things, I was certain. “What exactly did you need me to do again?”

Neloth steepled his fingers against his mouth and commanded dryly, “Undress.”

My mouth opened, my eyes widened. “What?” Surely I hadn’t heard him correctly.

He closed his eyes as if he was bored, sighed exasperatedly, and continued to wave his finger in the same direction. “And slowly. I need to examine you more… thoroughly.”

Crossing my arms, my eyes squinted harder. “Like Oblivion you need to. Go fuck yourself.”

Arching one eyebrow up he stated flatly, “I hardly think I am so desperate as to pleasure myself. That is why I summoned you.”

My face blazes quicker than a fire in the winter. Neloth stands there completely nonplussed and acting as if he just asked me to pass him a quill. But just as I’m about to protest, I realize that I’m not completely against the idea. How long had it been since I’d had someone in my bed? At least right now I had someone ready and willing and I was certain that he had no personal interest in me.

As my arms drop to my side, I tease, “So the great Telvanni wizard needs a bed partner does he?”

That got to him. “You should be so lucky as to warrant my attention,” he scoffed, turning his nose upwards. “However, if you wield the power that you claim to then you are the most qualified person on this island to see to my needs, service me.” He stated it as if he were doing me a favor.

“Your needs?” I laughed dryly. Despite my initial protest, I begin to carefully peel my gloves off and tossing them carelessly onto the floor. By the time my hands slide across one of my many buckles, I continue, “Your needs are about as important to me as the needs of a horker.”

The wizard takes deliberate steps toward me, his eyes making note of my every move; each time my fingers untie this or unbuckle that, I swear that I can hear his breathing deepen and become slightly more uneven. “What you feel is entirely inconsequential to me,” one of Neloth’s hands curl around the back of my neck as he moves closer to my ear and whispers, “You are here to please me.”

His warm breath blowing on my skin causes me to break out in a fresh wave of gooseflesh, his condescending makes my blood rush a little faster. My hands stop whatever they were doing and my own breathing hitches at the way his fingers slide down from my neck and graze my breast.

Neloth frowns. “I didn’t say you could stop.”

Silently, I nod but don’t look away from his stare, intensely focused on the way I’m sliding off my armor and then my underclothes. By the time I’ve stripped down to my smalls, my chest rises up and collapses in on itself so raggedly that I almost forget to breathe; between my thighs I am miserably damp, the wetness from my cunt now hot and irritating my skin. The beginning of some dull pain is already tightening in my core, promising to become something even worse if I don’t find a release to it.

The elf’s gaze lingers on each part of my exposed body: the junction of my thighs, the cleft of my breasts, the slope of my hips. And I like it. I’m enjoying the way his eyes can’t stop taking me in. The fact that he is dependent upon me in order to achieve any sort of satisfaction is exciting. When Neloth brings the pad of his thumb to lightly tease a hard nipple, I notice the robes aren’t doing a very effective job at hiding his erection.

“So…” I bite my lip but when I bring a hand to run my fingers through a section of hair, he grabs it and pushes it back to my side. So that’s the game we were playing. “Are you going to undress?”

He flares his nostrils at me and glares at me. “I will do as I please. You are to remain quiet.” He gives me one final, disapproving look before adding a bit more seriously, “But I am more civilized than Men. Simply tell me when to stop.”

As he reached around me to untie my smalls, I locked my gaze onto his, smirking. “I think I might say something like ‘barbarian’ when I’d like you to stop charming me.”

Neloth ignored me, his mouth finding the crook of my neck while his hands slid down my hips and into my smalls. It was hard keeping my hands anchored to my thighs, my fingers had to grip my flesh tightly as he slipped his long fingers down the front of my smalls, diving down past a thick covering of dark hair as he lightly bit my neck. Instead of going further, Neloth mouthed something and I could feel something unusual overwhelm my own aching and sore need.

My arms flew out and pushed him out. “What did you do?” I demanded and then quickly covered my breasts.

Neloth shot me a wicked smile. “Assuring that you don’t receive too much satisfaction before I’m sated. A weak paralysis spell to keep you from reaching climax until I say you can.”

My eyes widened. “You bastard.”

“Bastard, indeed,” his hands yanked my arms apart and his mouth found one of my breasts and made no show of modesty as his tongue licked my nipple roughly. Throwing my head back, I moaned loudly but didn’t touch him. Instead my fingers traveled between my legs and Neloth didn’t stop me. But when I slid my finger back and forth vigorously, whatever sensation I felt was muted. There was no possibly way I was going to achieve any sort of release like this.

The wizard’s mouth traveled up from my breast and around my shoulder, his fingers pulling at what clothing was left on me. When he had me fully exposed, his eyes examined me more closely while his fingers mapped out where he should begin. Even though I tried challenging his scrutiny, Neloth ignored my gaze. “Now then, we’ll see if you are capable of pleasing me.”

Before I could protest, he stepped around me, his hands grazing my thigh and then my backside purposefully. When fully behind me, Neloth took his long fingers and pulled back my hair gently to whisper in my ear. “I’d prefer someone more…,” his hand reached around and roughly groped my breast and I gasped, “…voluptuous but I think you will serve for now.” Neloth pointed to the bed and demanded, “Now, be a good girl and sit.”

The wizard must have anticipated my willingness to argue because immediately afterwards, he smacked me sharply on the arse and repeated himself, “Sit.”

My feet carried me quickly despite the fact I wanted to make this as difficult as possible for the elf; unfortunately, my body was too interested in working towards getting him to undo the paralysis spell he’d placed. Once I’d flopped down, I continued to stare at him expectantly. I’d no idea what to expect next and it aroused me a little thinking about what the possibilities were. Neloth closed the gap between us slowly, considering me and my aching body.

Steepling his fingers against his mouth, he hummed in serious contemplation. “Now then, I’m only going to tell you this once. You will do as I say, when I say so. Any complaint on your part and I’ll make sure to leave you writhing in need and send you on your way. If that is unacceptable, say so now.”

This was getting more interesting by the second. The wizard was an arrogant bastard but each time he spoke down to me, a fresh flush spread across my face and my wetness pooled a little more uncomfortably between my legs. If this was how Neloth wanted to achieve his satisfaction, it was no small wonder there wasn’t a line of willing participants outside of his bedroom door. Instead of protesting, I nodded impatiently and waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, fine. On with the bedding.”

He caught my hand and arched his eyebrow. “The first thing I think I’ll do is make sure that you’re a bit more,” he brought my hand down past my breasts and my stomach, his other hand spreading my legs open, “pliable.”

Wordlessly, I willed my face to remain expressionless. Our agreement had been made but that certainly didn’t mean I could give the enchanter everything he wanted at once. Neloth’s long fingers gripped more tightly into the flesh of my inner thigh, his fingernails sinking so deep that I bit my tongue. When he released, all that remained was a neat and orderly row of crescent indentations. Neloth briefly gazed at his nails before stepping back. “Hmm. Not good enough. Arms behind you, keep them together, spread your legs more.” I went to protest and then, “Shut up.” What was this feeling? My usual anger immediately slipped into compliance and I did as he had ordered. “Now then,” he continued, slipping one of his belted sashes out through its loops. “Whatever you want, the answer is no. The only thing that matters is what I desire.” Leaning into me, he reached around and wrapped the sash around my wrists. Each thick pull of the sumptuous fabric cut off my circulation slightly. I simply nodded. Neloth deftly slipped his robes down past his shoulders and folded them neatly looking bored by the act. “One last thing before we begin,” he strode over to one of his chests, carefully putting his clothes to one side. His body had been made lean and a paler grey from years of work indoors; what muscle he did have moved underneath his skin with each deliberate movement. When he returned, Neloth presented me with another, shorter length of fabric. “It is simply no fun if you see what’s coming.”

In the next moment I was blindfolded. Despite my lack of sight and my wrists bound together, it occurred to me that maybe this wasn’t the worst of Neloth’s appetites. Immediately after that realization, I became aware of being excited of the prospect of something more… “depraved” was the only word that fit.

That was until I felt myself being pushed facedown into the mattress. He smacked my arse again. “What did I tell you about those legs?” My legs? When I didn’t respond quickly and correctly, he pinched the back of a thigh and I yelped. “Quiet!” Neloth’s hands yanked my legs back open. “Disobey again and the consequences will be far worse than simple reprimand. Now then, keep your arse nice and high for me.”

I could only imagine what I looked like, hips sunk in but my legs keeping my behind presented for him. The darkness created an air of strange excitement. This was helplessness, being deprived and completely at the mercy of someone else. Usually I was the one with power and control. This reversal of roles fulfilled some unknown need that had, as of now, remained completely ignored. And my body knew it. The inside of my thighs became soaked, my skin felt like it was on fire. My heart. It raced, not knowing what Neloth might do next or what blow it might receive. Without warning, something harder and stiffer than his hands stuck the junction of my thighs and my backend. Even though tears welled at the corner of my eyes, I beamed inwardly at my newfound ability to keep in my sounds. The master wizard must have been pleased as well because he began to use whatever he’d struck me with to tease my exposed cunt. “In Morrowind I was known for kidnapping the young daughters of Redoran Councilors. I’ve spent many a day with them doing what I am subjecting you to. None of them ever complained about my staffs either.”

His gods damned staves. The very same staves he was using to make me writhe and shudder soundlessly, lest I be struck again. Although, if I were completely honest with myself, a secret and quiet thrill lay in not knowing when the next blow may come.

Neloth stopped. I heard some shuffling, some footsteps. “Girl,” I heard his voice from across the room. “I’m becoming bored with you.”

Stupidly, I blurted, “So?”

I felt the air freeze.

My whole body tensed.

His footsteps were faster, louder as he breached the space between us and no warning was given before the staff smacked me again, harder. Tears freely rolled down my face now, soaking the blindfold. The bed shifted and I felt his legs brace themselves against mine. Before I could retaliated, Neloth roughly yanked me back by pulled my hair. He sounded more composed than I expected him to, “It seems as if you and I have a lot more work to do. I’ll beat your will out of you. You won’t remember a time you did not see me as your master. You won’t be able to spend without my permission.” Too roughly, he thrust into me. Shock was replaced by the discovery that I was enjoying every second of his degradation and threats.

His hands pulled harder and more pain swallowed me. Even his vigorous thrusting was a small, welcome relief despite the torment that was accompanying it. And the nagging fact that Neloth had practically made it impossible for me to achieve release. It sounded like the elf was mumbling something but I couldn’t make out what the words were. Without warning, he pulled out and something hot spilt onto my back. The bastard.

“Now then,” Neloth sounded a little out of breath. “Stay there and don’t move.” The mattress shifted again as he moved from it. “If you’re good and can redeem yourself for that little outburst, I might consider providing some relief to your agony.” And with that, he padded off again to somewhere else in the room. Motionless, my muscles began to cramp. From somewhere, I could have sworn I heard the pages of a book turn. He’s reading while I’m kneeling here, spread before him? Another turn of the page, another muscles cramp in the upper arms and thighs. I had never realized how much my wrists hurt bent at such an angle or how awkward it was to keep my head up while the rest of me lay in a different plane. How much time had passed? I couldn’t see anything and Neloth barely made any noise. All that existed were me, my pain, the mattress. Once I almost lost my balance but regained it quickly. At some point, Neloth strolled back over toward me and his breath hit my ear. “Now, if you’re ready to cooperate, I’ll show you a taste of what I can do.”

I nodded in quick agreement. Please, I silently begged.

But I didn’t dare vocalize my desire. His fingers slid back into my wetness and my breath hitched. I prayed he hadn’t heard me. Maybe Neloth had simply decided my action wasn’t worth his attention because he continued, rubbing hard against the area he had paralyzed earlier. This time, I openly moaned. It must have amused him. “For your first time, you weren’t a complete disappointment.” My back arched in reply. “I’ve trained worse.”

What felt like light electricity sizzled from his fingertips. My toes curled, I lost my breath. I hadn’t realized how much he had taken away from me until he had returned it to me; now it felt as if Neloth was giving me much, much more than I originally thought myself capable of. When I climaxed, he did not slow down, did not give into my muscles clamping down on him. It hurt.

I had no doubt that had been his intention. Neloth probably hoped that I would continue spending so he could continue extending my misery. Luckily for me, the waves washed over intensely but quickly. Slipping my blindfold off of me, he pointed to my clothes. “Now out. I have work to do. I’ll call when I decide to have you again.”

After dressing myself I asked, “Why don’t you just bed one of your spriggans, Neloth?”

Almost too quickly, as if he had considered it already, Neloth grumbled, “Splinters.” He pointed at the door again. “And that’s Master Neloth to you. Now, out.”

#drabbles #drabble #smutty smutty smut smut #smut #neloth #oc: rook #rook

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nerevar-quote-and-star · 1 year

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Talvas Fathryon: You wanna see how hardcore I am?

Talvas: *punches a wall*

Talvas:

Nixiel Veres:

Neloth:

Drovas Relvi:

Elynea Mothren:

Ulves Romoran:

Talvas: Take me to a hospital.

Teldryn Sero: Kwamafetching s'wit.

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nostalgic-breton-girl · 3 years

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headcanon that elynea uses 'the levitation pad makes me dizzy' as an excuse to just. never interact with neloth

and that the levitation pad also makes neloth dizzy, but he'd be the last to admit it. talvas is all ‘are you sure you don’t get dizzy like elynea, master?’ and neloth crashes into a table like ‘absolutely not’

#skyrim #elynea mothren #neloth #tel mithryn #did you know that the elynea mothren tag on this site is all me #come on guys i can't do all the work round here

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nostalgic-breton-girl · 3 years

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i- i literally just want to hear about elynea mothren and your thoughts about her, personally i love her so much

i had a list of headcanons but it got out of hand and turned into a fic, i hope that's okay

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Solstheim is desolate, but there is a painful attraction in desolation to the woman stranded. Solstheim is covered in ash, of course it is; yet so is Vvardenfell, so is that last memory, something in the grey plains captures her and anchors her. She had meant to be here only briefly. Something tempts her to stay a little longer.

‘Elynea Mothren,’ she says to the waiting guard: ‘here on business from Windhelm.’

‘Business, eh?’ says her guard: a little mocking.

But Windhelm is thriving, even if Raven Rock isn’t; and if Windhelm wants to pillage all that they have left, they may as well take it. The guard waves her through; notes from her passport that she is an alchemist, notes the attention with which she studies the very ground.

There isn’t much down here, south-side: just scathecraw and trama, better colonists than Empire and Redoran alike, burnished leaves and roots in abundance; and mushrooms, too, for they have a fondness for old wood and the appearance of death. It is not paradise even for the alchemist, surely. Yet Elynea bends to inspect a mushroom, and after a moment stands, smiles vaguely; places a specimen in her basket; moves on to the next cluster.

‘You’re a mycologist?’ says the woman, later, who sells ingredients, bits and pieces, in the town: ‘have you seen Tel Mithryn?’

Elynea has not even heard of Tel Mithryn; but the name is striking all the same, evokes vague towering images –

‘It’s worth a look,’ she persists, ‘if you can get over… I think it’s something to do with House Telvanni. Mushroom houses, and all that. Are you from Morrowind?’

‘Yes,’ murmurs Elynea, ‘yes, I remember the Telvanni towers…’

It is a child’s memory, all brilliant colours and non-sequiturs; a glimmer which comes only from nostalgia; retrospective connexion, the start of an obsession. It is the memory of a child who did not know what was to come, who walked blithely among the mushroom towers, and committed them only half to memory, for they would surely last for ever.

She has to see Tel Mithryn!...

And so she does, two days later. It’s a trek along the southern coast, but it is not anything her mercenary has not done before. At last, at last they come within sight of Tel Mithryn: tendril shadows against the distant volcanic silhouette, and burning orange lanterns desperately dispelling the ash. There it is, Tel Mithryn, so fresh and blithe as to be almost prelapsarian! mushroom towers rising, budding; Elynea looks upon it and revels –

‘Quite the spectacle,’ says her mercenary, from somewhere within his scarf: ‘quite astounding that they’ve grown all that from the ash.’

‘I should like to see it close –’ says Elynea.

‘I wouldn’t,’ the mercenary says: ‘I hear the master isn’t the most amiable of people.’

Elynea thinks immediately of her own master; cannot help but compare these towers, these magnificent towers, with the grey stone of Windhelm; wonders if she would take anything, over the cold city and colder Nurelion, if only she might work with these mushrooms. Nurelion who believes in the White Phial, who can scarcely believe that one might tame a mushroom and live in it; who thinks the Telvanni were completely mad –

She and her mercenary stay a little while, as shades of orange shift in the sky, but those lanterns hold firm. There’s ash in the air, ash at length clambering through the gaps in her scarf; but there is something about memory and those mushrooms which dispels it, which reduces it to some kind of non-existence, for a little while.

‘You said you wanted ash hopper jelly,’ says her mercenary at last: ‘there’s a nest near here, we should get there before dusk, while they’re still sedate.’

‘Yes…’ murmurs Elynea: ‘yes, ash hopper jelly.’

And a breeze casts a shower of ash upon them; brings clouds close over the hill, and Tel Mithryn is gone. Elynea stands, sways, wishes it back: resigns herself, follows her mercenary. Ash hopper jelly for Nurelion – then back to Windhelm –

‘I shall come back, one day,’ she says: swears it to herself, looks back once more at the shifting horizon.

#elynea mothren #skyrim #tel mithryn #dragonborn #breton girl writes

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