Challenges

“A harrowing?” Eiryn asked, not understanding what that meant, but it didn’t sound good. Saber shook out his cloak before sitting down on the pallet across from hers. They were given the tent to shelter from the storm outside, to rest and take respite.
“It’s a rite of passage.” The Dunmer explained, removing boots and the sword harness getting ready to settle down for the night. “They want me to go to an ancestral tomb and retrieve a relic. It sounds simple enough.”
“Rites of passage are never simple. They want it to be a challenge.” She scowled, thinking he wasn’t taking any of this seriously enough. Rites of passage also merited a certain level of danger, a threat to life. Something called a harrowing might be even more challenging than a simple initiation. She moved closer, plopping down to sit cross-legged beside him, and wondered why he was making light of this. “And you’re taking me with you, right?”
He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “I don’t think they want me to bring anyone with me on this venture.”
Eiryn knew he was right. Such initiations required the victim to take on the test alone, to prove themselves. “What if you don’t come back?”
“Why wouldn’t I come back?” He feigned insult and surprise.
“What if you get hurt? Or sick?” She persisted.
He rolled his eyes. “I think that’s why it’s a challenge, don’t you think?”
Huffing in frustration, she folded arms in front of her. “They don’t have to know I‘m going. I can meet you just over the hill-“
”Eiryn…” he warned. He began wiping off his daggers kept in his belt, checking for dirt or oil marring the steel. “You’re not going.”
“So I just stay here and wait?”
“That’s the general idea.”
Now growling, she pounded a fist against his pack sitting next to him on the ground, and only proved to smash knuckles against something hard within. What did he keep in that thing anyway? She was supposed to be his scout. Surely that meant to follow him at least to the entrance of the burial site? “And how long is this going to take?”
“Three days.” He said without looking up, knowing the wait was probably going to drive her crazy. “You wait no more or no less than three days. If I don’t come back then, you go home.”
“Because you’d be dead.“ She lowered her chin, focusing her attention to the firepit in the center of the tent.
“Because I’d probably be dead.” Saber agreed quietly, too calm in light of what he was about to do.
Tapping fingers against her boots, Eiryn considered his words. “Don’t go.”
He stopped what he was doing, turning slowly to stare at her incredulously. ”Don’t go? I have to.”
“No you don’t.”
He frowned. “What sort of Incarnate would that make me be?”
“But you’re not the Incarnate-“
”Not yet.” Saber felt her concern was unfounded. Then again, she’d never seen him test his skills had she? For all she knew, he was some misbegotten thief who rather charm his way out of trouble than face it head on. He reached up to brush her cheek with a finger, suddenly finding himself drawn to her through this show of concern for his well being.
”Not ever!” She exclaimed, slapping his hands away. “You know damned well how likely that is.“
“Do I?” He snapped, matching her temper and feeling more than annoyed with her lack of faith in him. “And how can you be so damned certain I am not?”
His words shocked her. Did he actually believe he could be Saint Neverar reborn? Was he soulsick? “I thought you weren’t a hero.”
“I don’t have to be a hero to fulfill a harrowing.” He muttered, turning back to the chore of checking his weapons. “I don’t even have to be an Incarnate to accomplish this. As for whether I am Incarnate or not, I see it makes little difference. Hadn’t you told me you thought I was up for the task regardless?”
Ah, so he’ll throw my words back in my face? Eiryn gritted teeth. “Fine. You end up lost or wounded and dying in the dark, don’t complain to me.” She muttered in anger, “And it’s very likely that will happen you know. Warriors better than you have died alone and lost in the Ashlands.”
He chuckled despite himself. “Better than me, eh? I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Don’t condescend to me.” She retorted, growing restless by the very casual demander he was showing her now. “I don’t think you’re taking any of this seriously.”
Saber contended a sigh. “It’s just an errand to retrieve a bow off a corpse. Now does that sound so hard?”
“Burial sites tend to be filled with the undead.” She told him, “You know, skeletons, ancestral ghosts, perhaps corpus beasts?” At least he had the good sense to grimace at mention of those, but the determined set of his chin told he remained undeterred. “Why do you suppose they call it a harrowing?”
He did laugh now. “You didn’t even know what a harrowing was until I told you!” At her growl of indignation, he softened his voice. “Eiryn, I am taking this seriously. Somehow I don’t think you take me seriously.”
Cheeks flushed pink as Eiryn considered his words. “Its hard to take someone seriously when they are always up to mischief!” She said, angered by his lack of gravity.
He set aside his weapons, having the odd feeling she was simply not going to let the topic go. He admired the tenacity, but found her lack of faith in him a bit troubling. Sighing, he turned to cup her chin with one hand and gave her a soft smile. “But it’s my mischief that lends to my charm.” He told her, leaning over to kiss her.
Pulling back from his affection, Eiryn knew her words had no affect on him. He was going and leaving without her, damn him! “Does charm and using harsh words work against corpus beasts?”
Ah, she is determined to remain chaste on this trip, Saber thought with disappointment. He wasn’t certain she was serious when she gave him the stipulation that they not sleep together, but he had to respect this decision. Dropping pretense, he let her go, and began undressing to prepare for a good night’s sleep. In the morning, he’d start this trip in finding the burial chamber, without her, and go from there.
Eiryn remained stoic, sitting with cross legs, crossed arms, and a tight mouth. If she believed pouting was going to have him change his mind, she was wrong. “You’re not going.” Was all he said when she kept staring at him expecting some response. Opting to leave trousers on lest someone of the tribe interrupt them, he settled on the bedroll, pointedly turning his back to her to sleep.
After a few long minutes, he finally heard her puff a sigh again, settling on the bedroll next to him, and knew her restlessness was from her still being angry. Several times he meant to speak to her, trying to soften the blow to her ego, even that he had in fact all the faith he’d need her beside him. However, the young woman might take it as an opportunity to simply argue further that he should take her, unknowing by the tribe, which he wasn’t about to risk.
The tension became almost tangible as he felt her shift again, and blow of a breath of air. “Are you going to do that all night?” He asked without turning.
“Do what?”
“Wiggling and sighing.”
Another exasperated sigh, this time at him. “I can’t sleep.” She muttered, shifting again, this time a quick yank of covers nearly took all from his side of the bedroll.
“Shall I get you some warm milk?” He asked.
“Warm milk?”
“To help you sleep.” Did she not hear his sarcasm?
“Warm milk helps you sleep?” She asked.
Ah yes, here in Morrowind they only had milk from guars, and perhaps didn’t carry the same properties as from the cattle in Cyrodil. If she kept this up, he’d never get enough rest to tackle the day ahead. “How about a back rub?”
Her silence prompted him to roll over to see if she was still awake. She was, biting her lower lip in consideration of his offer. Hair was now undone, laying in a thick mane around her head. She looked young, and oddly sullen. He nearly laughed, but only managed a muffled snort. Did she think he was trying to coerce her? Well, perhaps he was to a certain extent. “Or you could give me one…that might help settle you down.”
A sidelong glance appeared bland. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
”Obviously.” He retorted. “I’m not asleep now am I?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Unfortunately I do.” Saber rolled back, yanking covers to claim what was rightfully his. “I’m not sleeping with you either.”
Much to his surprise, she actually laughed at his mutterings. A sharp yank, stole back a fair share of the blanket, also serving to roll him on his back again. “If you promise not to molest me, you can give me a backrub.”
Well at least now her mood was improving. He smiled wickedly. “Can I? Shall I be so honored?” She rolled to her stomach, folding arms under her chin. Did he see a smug grin on her face now? Moving to straddle across her hips, he paused to take note she wasn’t removing any of her clothing. How was he to give a proper back rub with her fully clothed? “Take off your shirt.”
“What?”
“You want a backrub, so take off your shirt.’ He told her, and then pretended to be exasperated with her look of surprise. “Oh Azura’s Light, I promise I won’t accost you.”
Giving him a distrustful look, she reluctantly pulled off her tunic, lying back on her stomach to keep herself covered. “Just keep your hands on the back.” She warned.
He ran palms down her smooth back, almost tingling throughout his body in response of being so close to her, so intimate with her. Azura’s Light indeed, he mused. How does this woman affect me so?
“Yes indeed…” He sighed, hoping she couldn’t tell his response to her. His hands pressed along her spine. “You are tense.”
Eiryn sighed at his touch, rolling her head to one side, releasing a soft grunt. “A little lower please.”
He pressed on the lower spine, hearing an audible crack as vertebra shifted and a satisfying moan erupt from the woman. “Always eager to please.” He teased, running palms up and down, then shifting to knead the muscles to either side. “Anything to get you to sleep and stop stealing the covers.”
She giggled softly, looking heavy-eyed and more relaxed.
He brushed her long hair off her neck to work near the shoulders, enjoying the lovely feel of silken skin under his calloused hands, and the marvelous toning of the woman beneath him. Most other women he had in bed, had been soft and well curved. This lively one appealed to his senses of freedom loving and adventure. By the Nine Divines, he was glad he’d brought her along!
Several moments passed as he continued to work muscles gone stiff from their long trek through the Ashlands. Glorious sounds of her moaning and grunting made very fiber of his being grown raw with desire. Now he wasn’t so sure if he’d get any sleep, feeling the tent a bit too warm, and his desire almost painful.
“Did you want a backrub too?” Eiryn suddenly offered him. She might as well have asked if he was a fool as well.
“My turn, already?” He grinned. Did she even know how-? Not that it mattered. He would enjoy some affection before sleep came to him. Moving to lie on the bed, Eiryn didn’t seem to care of modesty, or she wore no shirt, not that he could admire her in his position. Face down, he felt her straddle across his lower back and her smaller hands began to prod and knead along his shoulders much as he’d done to her. The girl learns fast! He folded arms under his chin, soon lost to her administrations.
After a soft moan escaped him, Saber found he was feeling quite relaxed. Strong fingers ran up his spine, almost tickling, and then trailed back down. His hair was brushed off shoulders, and much to his surprise, Eiryn trailed a finger along the curve of his pointed ear. If anything the woman must have learned from the few times they’d slept together was the awesome delight such affection produced in a an elf. He nearly shuddered. Eiryn laughed softly, stopping the delicate touch to prefer to rub shoulders instead.
“Don’t do that…” Saber moaned, realizing too late he was aroused and feeling the tent was definitely too hot. Cursed woman, what was she thinking? Was this to torture him? Did she plan some malicious method of hers to get him back, or worse, to try to convince him to take her to the tomb? The thought made him catch his breath, wondering if he could possibly win against such brutality-
“Stop what?” She whispered against the same ear. “This?” This time her tongue played with the edge of his ear, and Saber flinched from the personal contact, burying his head in the wadded up shirt he was using as a pillow. He was very much aware of her soft flesh pressed against his back, with the fact she wore no shirt.
“For pity’s sake woman!” He exclaimed, “If you wish to remain chaste when traveling me, would be so kind as to not torment me so?”
Another light laugh, and Saber was convinced the Breton was now mocking him. Ah, a game then, to play and tease until he would give in. The mouth returned to tease along his ear, this time with lips ever so gently nibbling along the edge until he groaned. And he had to admit; the torture was delightful, providing she would not stop.
He felt the tickle of her hair falling over his face, the heat of her flesh against his. “You’re not going to stop are you?” He grunted, his voice gone husky with mounting desire.
Not replying, she ran her hand under his face to turn his head enough for her lips to reach his brow, kissing tenderly then moving delicate kisses along to his cheek. Eventually she shifted her weight, allowing him to roll to his back, and began teasing his mouth with hers, barely touching lips until he was nearly gasped for breath.
“I thought you said-“ Saber began, but interrupted with her mouth growing more urgent. Eiryn cupped his face in her hands, fingers moving to trail along either side of his face, and he never felt such gentle affection from a partner before. When she drew back, the face was flush, the eyes dilated in the darkness of the cramped quarters. Something had changed in her face, the expression no longer smiling but earnest, almost sad. “What is it?” He asked, concerned what was on her mind.
Eiryn forced an insincere smile. “I just thought I might miss you if something happened to you.” She told him, looking down.
Struck hard by her words, Saber was glad he was lying down. His chest clenched at realizing she was trying to tell him how fond she’d grown of him. He smiled, reached up to brush hair that threatened to shroud her beautiful face. Yes…he’d miss her too. “Nothing will happen.” He told her, trying to convince them both.
Not wishing to hear any more of it, she shut him up with a fierce kiss. Drawing her closer, he kissed her with equal passion, drowning himself in her affection, and wanting to calm her fears.
He wondered what happened to her stipulations, but soon all thoughts were blasted away by her demanding kiss and she left the elf no doubt what she wanted of him now. Well, he thought, might as well give in to the inevitable…

As she lay half asleep in his arms some time later, she stroked the smooth skin of his chest where she could feel the beating of his heart. The skin of her hand was so pale against his stormy gray, and her fingers smaller than his long graceful ones. So very different…she mused.
His breathing was slow and even, his eyes closed. He appeared content in his sleep, uncaring to what the next day will bring. She admired the fine lines of his cheeks, the graceful plane of his jaw. There was something oddly feminine to some of his features, due to his elven blood. He could see centuries of life, while she’d be lucky to see only one. The thought suddenly occurred to her she didn’t even know how old he was. He could already be a century old.
Looking for signs of age, she found none. For all appearance he seemed no older than she was. Skin was smooth, uncreased by age, and hair was black as a raven’s wing, as was lashes and brows. Eiryn knew well enough that still meant nothing. In Morrowind, the homeland of the Dark Elves, a Dunmer wasn’t considered out of puberty until near thirty. They couldn’t marry or even hold property until then. Commoners could see ages of 150 or so, while some of the Televani Dunmer were well over 1000, but they used magic to enhance their age.
Propping her head on a folded arm, Eiryn wondering what it was about him that fascinated her so. She wasn’t sure. His humor? His boyish charms? His being exotic? Was she even as shallow as to simply find him irresistible or a skillful lover?
He was handsome all right, she thought, ever so lightly trailing fingers along his cheek, down his jaw, to his full lips. Nonetheless, handsome or not, he was still pleasing. The self-assured nature, the confidence he exuded was very likable, and more, gave her hope he might survive this harrowing. Stirring ever so slightly, he sighed in his sleep, settled back with his head inclined towards hers.
What am I going to do without you? Considering following him despite his conditions, she settled down beside him, wanting to use her very will to keep him there.


The next morning, Eiryn woke to find herself alone in the bedroll. The blankets had been tucked around her, and her things neatly set aside near the door of the tent. It didn’t take long to realize Saber had already left, his bow gone as well as sword.
Damn him! She cursed, rushing to fumble clothes back on and rush out into the late morning. The day was grim, a heavy fog over the desolate landscape made every direction look the same. Eiryn’s heart sank. Everything looked the same in all directions. The thief was nowhere to be seen.
He did this on purpose! He deliberately left me in the early hours of morning or even in the middle of the night! Curse him!
Running up to one of the tribesmen, she was fumbling with her belt as she hurried to go. “Where is this tomb?” She asked in a breath.
The man narrowed eyes, not at all pleased with her tone. “He is to go alone, outlander.” He sneered, “You will not go with him.”
Oh yes I will…She glared back. “Which direction?” The man turned and moved away from her.
Desperate, the scout decided to use her tracking skills and soon found evidence of his tracks leading to the south. It appeared as though he tried to brush his tracks away as well. Clever, but not clever enough. She could still tell the imprint and direction now. As she started forward, a voice caught her attention.
“You dishonor him.” A woman’s accented voice spoke softly. Eiryn turned to find the tribe’s wisewoman standing behind her, staring those red eyes into her soul. She was a tiny woman, reminded her of a bird. Her small frame was weathered from the harsh life she lived, as well as age, and her silver hair was tied back to either side of her face in braids indicating her rank and clan. “He is to prove himself, and you have no faith. How are we to trust either of you?”
A twinge of shame made her cheeks hot, and the young scout looked down at the ground. “He might need my help.” Her voice was small, and her need to follow Saber into danger was almost overwhelming.
The wisewoman stepped forward, the creases of age in her face deepening when she smiled. “You can help him by being patient.” She said softly, “Now come. We will talk, you and I, over some tea.”
Surprised by this unexpected hospitality, Eiryn felt compelled to follow. Instead however, she looked back to the rising sun and the tracks leading to the south. For all she knew, Saber could already be dead-
“Come along, child.” The wisewoman called after her. “There is nothing for you to do now.”
Resigned, Eiryn followed her back to her yurt, only now understanding the honor the woman gave her by the invitation.


Saber didn’t particularly hate caves or dark enclosed in spaces, but tombs were another matter. Crouched behind some rocks, he sensed the presence of the undead; even smell their cold whiff of death upon them as he readying a spell.
He knew he could take on a skeleton, even the ancestral ghosts now that his sword had been imbued with magick from the mages in Balmora. They were immune to normal blades, his could even trap their souls if need be, but this venture was meant to only retrieve a bow. The tribe honored these spirits, and therefore he’d have to avoid destroying them as best he could.
The worst thing about this quest was he felt obligated to keep his sticky fingers to himself, and not touch any of the lovely weapons and other artifacts that were upon the various dead here in the tomb. This went against his very nature, he reasoned. Several items were well worth the trip if he could snatch them off a corpse to sell later.
That’s not why you’re here… a voice rasped behind him.
“Shut up…” Saber whispered back. His own ancestral ghost had been summoned long enough to distract a series of Blight infected rats he encountered and put out of their misery. He rarely summoned Enril due to the over talkative ghost proved more of a nuisance than any help, but all Saber needed this time was a distraction. And Enril was very good at distracting.
Of all the spirit guides a Dark Elf could have, I had to be stuck with him! Saber glared back at the apparition, knowing he couldn’t retaliate to the ghost’s reprimanding nature without actually trapping his soul like any other ghost. Enril enjoyed lecturing, chiding the thief for his choice of profession, even other areas of his life, and particularly the new topic of Eiryn.
You should’ve brought her along… Enril rasped.
“I can’t believe you were actually a warrior.” Saber muttered through clenched teeth. Did the man never shut up when he was alive? “This is my Harrowing.” Saber told him. “Sat Matuul was very clear that I had to do this alone.”
But I’m here, aren’t I? Enril hissed with a voice that sounded ancient. Do you think you are allowed to summon your ancestors to help?
“You tell me.” Saber growled, “You were a warrior of a tribe. Didn’t you have to go thru a Harrowing?”
A Harrowing to be accepted in a tribe, Enril rasped. I was already an honored warrior.
“Honored? I find that hard to believe” Saber said, peeking over the rock to see if the three skeletons down the tunnel had heard their conversation. Lucky for him, the undead were not very good at hearing. Enril was certainly proof of that. “But you must’ve gone thru an initiation?”
I did, Enril told him, when I was a boy.
The ghost was being flippant. All Dark Elves had the ability to summon their spirit, after they reached puberty. For Saber, by the time he discovered Enril, he was well past that age, and had lost some control over the so-called guide. Gritted teeth, Saber wondered why the ghost hadn’t left for the ‘Other’ plane yet, unless he simply enjoyed ‘harrowing’ Saber.
Enril was just as unhappy having his charge be a thief, and learning of the dark past. He was horrified to discover the boy he was to guide had been trained as an assassin, and already made his first kill, a dishonorable one at that. At every opportunity, he reminded Feryl of this, never calling him by any other name. It was his first name, a given name, and to Enril, had to respected. He couldn’t’ understand that in Old Common it was far from being anything remotely honorable.
There was also the informative years lost to which Enril could’ve been helpful to the boy growing up amid foreigners, teaching him the Dunmer ways. But those years were lost, and they were both stuck together.
“Don’t you have someplace else to go?” Saber asked, still waiting for the spirit to diminish before continuing on. “You’re not going to be much help here now.”
The specter hovered in the dark tunnel, almost flaring in anger at the thief. I’d be more powerful if you’d summon me more often. He reminded him, had always reminded him, and always will.
“Learn to keep quiet and I just might, but for now…can’t you just leave?” Saber was of course lying, and Enril well knew it. Linked to the Dunmer’s heart and soul, the ghost knew the boy thought he talked too much, complained too much, and certainly shut him off quick enough when he suggested he take Eiryn as a wife.
I still say you need to make an honorable woman of her, Enril told him, refusing to leave until he could no longer maintain his form. It was so rare he came to this plane of existence, rarer still he could try to instill some form of values into the boy.
“She’s honorable enough for us both, and I already told you why I can’t marry her.” Saber bared teeth, gripping his sword with the dark thought that perhaps as a trapped soul this ghost might be more useful.
Children, although important, do not make a marriage, boy. Enril chided him. And you haven’t told her you cant have any, have you?
They both knew he hadn’t. Saber settled back against the stone, knowing with disgust he was stuck here until the ghost dissipated. Sighing, he drew up knees to his chest to make himself comfortable. “Eiryn is not a fool, Enril.” Saber told him, feeling as though he’d already explained this enough times. “She must know by now we can’t even think in that direction in light of what I have to do.”
The ghost made some rude noise. Yet you use her-
“I most certainly am not!” Saber huffed, his temper flaring. “And well you know this!”
Forgive me…Enril whispered, Yes, you are right. You are not using her. But I can sense your feelings for her, and yet you do not do the honorable thing.
“The honorable thing…you mean marry her?” Saber spat.
Or let her go, Enril concluded. She has a right to a family of her own one day.
Saber scowled, fingering the pommel of his sword once more. He was beginning to hate this spirit, feeling more of a curse than anything else. The gods must be laughing at putting us together like this. Enril so enjoys torturing me with his rhetoric-
A pang of guilt struggling against his selfish wants. Deep inside him, he knew Enril was right. He had to tell Eiryn the truth, and the opportunity to decide for herself, she deserved that much. The thought however, of her making the choice of leaving him made his chest constrict painfully. Then again, she hadn’t left when she found out about Nekros did she?
She doesn’t know everything about Nekros though, Enril pointed out, reading his thoughts. Nor the demons you carry-
A well of seething rage rose up, and Saber finally got to his feet with sword in hand. “Speak once more of that, and I will end this topic of conversation permanently-“ He lifted his blade, taking petty enjoyment when the spirit back off, even fading from the obvious threat.
Forgive me...Enril rasped.
Wanting to lash out, Saber opted to take out his frustration to the undead behind him. They had since been alerted to his presence when he stood up, but at least now he had the force of his anger to fuel the fight. As he swung his blade to hit against bone, a swift kick knocked another skeleton to crash into pieces. Nothing like good old-fashioned hate to bring a fight to terms.


Eiryn had found Nibani the wisewoman to be one of the most cordial of the Ashlander people she ever met. The woman bore a proud yet gentle manner, incredibly understanding of others, almost to the point of possibly reading their minds.
“I do not read minds.” Nibani laughed when Eiryn asked her about it. “For many, what they think and feel is obvious on their face.” She was having the n’wah help prepare herbs for potions, keeping her busy until Saber returned, and keeping her mind occupied on other things. “You for instance, have very expressive eyes, but you show emotion, not thoughts.”
The young scout turned her attention back to pulling leaves off the Bittergreen plant. Its properties could make potions to render one invisible, or to restore lost attributes. It was also used in some poisons. The tough stalk smelled sour, and the sap was sticky. “Is that why you’re keeping me busy?”
Nibani nodded slowly. “Work is the best cure for what ails a longing heart.”
“How long do you think he’ll be gone?” Eiryn asked her, remembering Saber’s words on waiting three days.
“Depends on what trouble he’ll face. Some go for only a day, others a week.” Nibani explained. She was scraping the innards out of large bugs called Shaulk beetles, often using the resins in potions, or crafting materials.
“He told me to wait three days.” Eiryn murmured, knowing she’d wait the week if she had to.
“That sounds a reasonable time.” Nibani agreed.
“And what if he doesn’t come back?” This time her question was more to herself than to the wisewoman, but her insight might provide her some comfort.
The woman stopped what she was doing, appraising her new assistant with consideration. “You endure, child. But I think you are asking permission to find him?” Eiryn blushed, as the woman smiled knowingly. “After three days, you can go see if you can find him. No one will stop you. I will even guide you to the tomb if you wish.” She returned to her chore. “Men do not understand the strength of woman, nor the power of our hearts.”
“No, they don’t.” Eiryn agreed, liking this woman immensely.