"Candlelight" A memoir of a Skyrim character I made.

"Candlelight" A memoir of a Skyrim character I made.

A Story by squeak

"My name is Arlene. At least, for the sake of this account, that is what you can know me by. Please, listen, traveler. Learn from what I tell you here as it may save your very well being.

 

 I had spent most of the first 22 years of my life living within the walls of Daggerfall. You see, My father - who I would like to first discuss briefly -  was a Breton who used to travel a lot. He was very well-to-do and held great respect from the nobles. The single women and the widowed (as well as those wishing to be) would flock to him at parties. There was just that sort of aura about him. But Father was never interested in romance of any sort; he'd brush them off as politely as he could and be about his business. He was always much more in to working hard and learning than settling down. I remember there were times he would spend hours upon hours in his study working out new spells and testing out his own potion recipes. More often than not the results came out negative, but he would press on until it was all right. But there came a time, before I came along, where he began to feel a great sense of purposelessness. I believe he came to a point where he felt that the pursuit of knowledge alone was not fulfilling the deepest desires of his heart. For a time he fell in to a deep state of loneliness and depression. At long last he would conclude that the best way to deal with this is if he had someone to share that plethora of knowledge with. He now desired companionship. But he had not many true friends, Mostly they were people of High status who may have had some sort of obligation or secret agenda to be close by. And as I said before, he really had no romantic interests at all. So how exactly did I, Arlene, come along? 

 

Well, Father's plan was to leave Highrock for a while, head down to the Imperial City's Mage's Guild and present them with his newly found knowledge and spells. He did, or at least he tried. Whilst explaining to them his theories he was laughed out of the place, not even being given a chance to demonstrate. I was never explained the details of this, but that is the basic gist of what happened. Anyway...

 

Now suffering from a great deal of lostness, my father sought out the nearest pub. "The Foaming Flask" I believe it was called. It was dark out and the crowds had come by for a late night drink. But before my father stepped in to what would have become the absolute lowest place in his life, something caught his eye. To his left a ways and behind a crate, there sat a young girl, no older than five. It was me. I distinctly remember him asking me, 'What are you doing here? Where are your parents?' I would go on to explain in the best way that a five year old girl could that my parents were gone for good, and that I was trying to get inside the pub because I was 'afraid of the dark'. I have to admit I still am. 

 

There was a chill in the air that night. The man who was soon to become my father wrapped me up in his over coat, and carried me to a nearby inn. He got a fire going, gave me a bath, and bought me the best meal I had had in a long time. Back in the room he kept asking me about where I came from, trying to figure out what to do with me. But I insisted that my parents were long gone. The only thing that was for certain was that both of my parents were imperials. The only things left of them are a vague mix of images that may or may not have actually happened. Sometimes I remember my parents being killed off, and other times I remember my mother; whose face is also but a blur, leaving me in an alley. Gods help me, but it all seems irrelevant to me nowadays. 'How you managed to survive at such a young age is beyond me!" Father would say. We grew close quickly, and it only took a few days before I really started thinking of him as a real father. 

 

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It was permanent. He was keeping me as a daughter. We left the Imperial city and made our way to Anvil where we would catch a ship around to Highrock. It took longer, but was much safer than crossing the mountains through Skyrim and Hammerfell. I suppose Father didn't want to take the risk of me getting hurt. 

 

About half way on the ship to Highrock a huge storm came along. Massive waves crashed over the sides, and the ship was knocked side to side violently. I remember so vividly being bundled up in a blanket, my face buried against Father's chest in that pitch black quarters, save for the frequent flashing of lighting. I sobbed uncontrollably, and it was a mystery to me why Father seemed so unaffected by all the chaos. There was yet another flash of light - but this time from inside the room. I looked up at my father to see a strange orb of light floating by his face, which smiled ever so warmly at me. I looked curiously at this strange sight. He explained to me that it was magic and, putting it to terms that I could understand, that he would use it when he himself was afraid of the dark. This would all calm me greatly from the storm outside. Father pulled out an orange looking book with an image of a tree on the front. He opened it up and began to walk me through it word for word. Of course I didn't quite understand, given my age. But it gave me something to focus on beside the storm. In the midst of our bonding, he said something I'll never forget. The light he conjured eventually faded and he whispered in my ear "just remember the things I teach you, and you will never have to be afraid of the dark". We sat there quietly in the dark from then on. I still lay there in his lap, bundled up in some thick blanket with my head against his chest. I shut my eyes. The rhythm of his heartbeat lulled me off to a deep sleep. 

 

My eyes opened and we were nearing Daggerfall. I had to shake Father awake and he quickly began getting our things together before getting off. From there we rode in a horse carriage in to the city of Daggerfall. It was a very odd experience for me. In some ways it was much more active than the Imperial City, and in others it was significantly more humble. He carried me through town to his large estate, a horse carrying out luggage behind us. Along the way, the women kept "oo-ing" and "ah-ing" over him from afar. He ignored them all the same and carried me inside his home. 

 

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That was the start of my knew life. The next 17 years of my life were spent under Father's training and teaching. He taught me that spell I saw first and foremost as a reminder of what he had told me on the ship those years ago. I would learn yet much more in the areas of Alteration, Restoration, and Illusion. He taught me some things in Destruction as well, but I never liked it. I never wanted to hurt anything, I just wanted to see things come about. I suppose he thought I would need to know to defend myself at some point. He had place on me very strict rules involving etiquette. I never thought them practical, but I didn't mind following them if it pleased Father to see me do so. For most of my life this is how it was for me.

 

Every day he had me practice that stupid candlelight spell. I didn't have any problem with the spell itself, as you could be sure that I'd use it any time I entered a dark room (darkness is something I never quite got over). But the act of doing such a simple spell again and again every day really started to wear at me. He knew best though - so I did it. Though, I didn't always trust him. I got in trouble a fair share of times, and he was always ready to scold and correct. Yet at the same time he was always ready to forgive and restore. 

 

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I loved Father so much. I was paralyzed with fear the day he fell ill. I tried to conjure up all the healing spells he had once taught me to hopefully save his life, but it was all to no avail. I brought in the best alchemists in Daggerfall to see what they could come up with, but all they could give me were estimations of how much longer he had. 

 

I became frantic. I lashed out at the alchemists, swinging my fists violently. My poor father somehow found the strength to raise up and restrain me. I fell back with him on his bed, wailing uncontrollably. Burying my face in his chest, gritting my teeth, I screamed. The alchemists, unwilling to leave us like that, came up and laid their hands upon us for a time. They would leave soon after, but I stayed there sobbing for hours on end until I just couldn't anymore. I kept my ear on his chest to listen to his heart. Every ounce of life he had left I wanted to savor. 

 

Hours and hours had gone by. Father raised his hand slowly. I lifted my had up from his chest and observed, confused about what was going on. He looked me in the eyes and smiled. From his hand a very small candle light spell arose and quickly faded. His smile would relax and his hand would drop to the bed. 

 

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Months had gone by. The estate was mine, but I didn't care. It meant nothing to me. One morning I simply got up and left to go down to the boat docks. I was leaving Daggerfall for good. The only boat there belonged to a group of Khajiit traders headed for a place called Windhelm in Skyrim. 'Fine', I said - and I took the ride. 

 

To this day I can't tell you why I felt I needed to leave. Maybe from Father's death there came an odd sense of liberation. Or maybe seeing him die was just so traumatic that I wanted to keep my focus on something else. Point is, I was headed for Skyrim, and there was no going back. 

 

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Windhelm was a bitter-sweet place. It's lower class citizens were a delight to be around, but the upper class citizens were generally stuck up and rude. I had not noticed much difference culturally between the two provinces, but it seemed the Nords were much more traditionalist in their ways than were the Bretons of Highrock.

 

I had given up everything. I had no money and no place to sleep. I had become close friends with a Dark Elf who owned a store. His name was Revyn Sadri and he would pay me to cut up wood for him. I'd usually put that money towards a bed and ale at the Candlehearth Hall. I spent most of the day at the docks with the Argonians. Our job was to help unload cargo from incoming ships. Argonians weren’t very welcome among the Nords in Windhelm, so they were often ridiculed and pestered by incoming travelers. I tried standing up for one of the Argonian women there but ended up with a black eye. The guards weren’t that phased by it. After all, I dwell among the ‘pond scum’, so why should I matter in the slightest?

 

Night time was very nerve racking. The darkness and cold didn’t bother me much when I could have a candle light spell out. I would often have a flame charged in my hands to keep warm. I still didn’t like using destruction magic, but it had its alternate uses. What did bother me however were the rumors of a ‘butcher’ going around. He apparently targeted women. I usually stayed inside the Argonians’ quarters, or with Revyn at night. Though, no one could really make me feel safe the way Father did.

 

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A few months went by of working dead end jobs and I finally got enough money to purchase the equipment needed to move to the next town. The social issues and crime that went on there in Windhelm were starting to become more than I could handle. I had invited some of my Argonian friends to come with me, but they said it was better that they stayed.

 

I set out west, keeping my flames drawn out. It was the best way I knew to keep warm in the midst of all the snow. However, at some point the wind and snow became too much for me to handle. The wind had been blowing so hard that I couldn’t keep walking in a straight line, and my flames were doing nothing to keep me warm. I had a candle light cast for someone to hopefully see me.

 

I eventually gave up after hours of walking, and collapsed.

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My eyes fluttered open to the sight of the sea. A ship wreckage lay just shortly to my left. As I looked around, I saw that I was in some sort of small shelter with lots of jewelry and valuable sitting around me. I figured that whoever was living here had to be some sort of treasure hunter, and that this was what they found from the nearby wreckage. I distinctly remember a statue of Dibella standing near my feet. I blushed a bit upon noticing she was nude.

 

And then I saw him �" Deekus. Deekus was an Argonian man who had been living here, and who I assumed to be the one to help me. He had popped his head out of the water just ahead, swimming towards the shore. As he arose out of the water, he had with him some large slaughterfish that he was going to drag to hang over his fire.

 

Deekus, seeing that I was awake now, introduced himself to me �" and I to him. We sat around and ate, warming ourselves by the fire. I thanked him repeatedly about saving my life, but he didn’t seem like much of a talker. He did, however insist on listening to my story. So I told him everything. I told him about how my father found me, raised me, and recently died. I lost track of how long I had been talking, but we had been sitting at the fire for a good long while.

 

I stayed with Deekus for a few days. I wanted to make sure I had my bearings, and he didn’t seem to mind. And the longer I stayed with him the more I started to notice something about him.

 

He was very handsome…

 

I had never felt any such attraction to an Argonian. In fact, many might have seen it as taboo. Everything about him �" from his posture to his rough scales �" just really appealed to me in some mysterious way. I like how quiet he was, and the way he never looked me in the eyes kept giving me the impression that possibly he felt the same.

 

It was the last night I was going to be with Deekus. We sat closer than usual by the fire. I started going more in depth about my story, as did he. I began to cry as I started talking about my father again. Deekus put his arm around me and I laid against his chest �" It just all felt so natural. I kissed his snout softly. My fur armor began to slip off.

 

One thing led to another…

 

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It had been about a day since I had left from Deekus’ campsite. A place called Dawnstar was nearby. I was told that things were not much better there due to some ‘curse’ plaguing the area, but the business opportunities were better.

 

It was a nice little town, and the locals seemed friendly enough. There was a woman who owned an iron mine. Every day I would go in and mine all I could. It was the best paying job I had had thus far in Skyrim. But I was very tempted to sneak out a few pieces for myself to transmute later in to gold. But if anyone caught me using such a spell it could cause a lot of trouble.

 

There was a lighthouse that over looked the eastern side of the town. I would sneak up there every evening to rest. I always had a candle light out, hovering above my head. I would sit and think about father, and sometimes Deekus. And it happened to come on me in Dawnstar why I left Daggerfall. When Father died, I had been in the ‘dark’ and was currently searching for some sort of ‘light’. Just like Father had found me in the dark, so he had left me. Other than the imperial city, Daggerfall was all I knew. I was kept sheltered behind four sturdy walls, and the only ‘light’ was my father. I think that is why he made sure I knew this candle light spell so well. Not to protect me from physical darkness, but to remind me of him and all he had taught me when things went awry. But I had the hardest time still seeing him after he died �" the pathetic image of his dying self still welded firmly to the forefront of my thoughts. So that’s why I came to Skyrim. I lost the only thing that would have given my life meaning, and suddenly I found myself seeking out another ‘light’.

 

I had fallen asleep crying that night on the lighthouse. A guard woke me up the next morning, saying I couldn’t sleep there. I was late for my shift at the mine so the pay that day was terrible. The curse there had really began to start bothering me at this point, so I felt it was time to leave again. I thought about heading back to where Deekus was. From atop the lighthouse one could still see the wreckage of the ship where he made his encampment. More than that, one could make out the faint glitter of his campfire at night. But I knew that I couldn’t survive well in those conditions like a hardened Argonian could. Fighting back yet more tears I was able to pay for a ride southward to a much larger city called Whiterun.

 

 

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Not much happened during the time I was there.

 

This place seemed much more fitting to me. It reminded me a lot of Daggerfall, really. I shopped wood for the local inn keeper, but my connections with her weren’t as close as with Revyn of Windhelm. People could live more independently in Whiterun and weren’t in as much need of companionship I suppose.

 

Eventually I earned enough money to buy a house in town. I was so excited �" Father would have been so proud. This is where I would spend about the next two years or so. Within that time, however I had a job with the companions, fetching mead and whatnot. It paid surprisingly well though, and I was able to live quite comfortably on it. As always, I would have my candle light hovering about. People would comment on it as they passed by �" sometimes positively, and other times negatively.

 

I had thought I found the light I was looking for �" a life of my own. And maybe I had, but things went wrong nonetheless. I had been cleaning up downstairs in the companions hall. I had been struggling around that time and needed some money for food. When I thought no one was looking, I tried to take a steel dagger behind a display case. Farkas saw me and quickly reported me. I lost my work and was thrown in prison for a while. After my sentence, I had no work to do at this point and no one else in town trusted me. I was on the move again.

 

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Eventually, I made it back to Windhelm �" many of my old friends still there. I was on the search for a ‘light’ again. Revyn helped get me back up on my feet. Still though, I was hungry. In candlehearth hall I found a hidden bottle of skooma �" presumably Elda’s. I hadn’t learned from previous events apparently, so I took it. She saw me take it but said nothing, lest she be faced with legal issues herself. I was on my way to sell it to one of the Argonians who I happened to know was an addict when I ran in to three men in iron armor. They presented me with a contract from Elda, saying they were to bring me back to her dead or alive. I dropped the skooma, which alerted guards nearby, and I made a run for it. Some of the Argonians who knew me well tried holding back the thugs, but it became an outright brawl. One of the thugs grabbed me by the leg as I was trying to escape and began beating me senseless. He may have broken my arm.

 

An Argonian woman who I once helped find an amulet for reared back and stabbed him in the back as I got up and fled across the icy river. I made it across finally as guards stormed the bridge above me to possibly kill me.

 

I would steal once more from the stables. I hopped on the first horse I saw and began riding as fast as I could bring the horse to go �" westward �" to Deekus.

 

The trip was long and hard through the snow storms. Every now and then I could hear the sounds of guards behind me trying to catch up. But I kept moving forward.

 

It just so happened that I lost the guards upon coming up to Deekus’ campsite, which to my relief was still there. He even had his fire going strong, fresh fish hanging above it. There were no treasures strewn about the place anymore, so I imagine he had some success selling it all. I didn’t see him there at first so I decide to sit and wait. If there was anyone who could help me, it was Deekus.

 

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But as I looked around, I would find a letter sitting beside his bedroll. It was stained with what looked like blood, and upon opening it I saw the imprint of a black hand.

 

It was then that I knew there wasn’t much left for me here in Skyrim. And right now I sit in the very spot where I made love with Deekus, scrawling these things upon the back of the note I found at his bedside. I don’t know where I’m going with all of this, friend. I guess if there is any one thing I want you to take from this, it’s that you should never stop looking for that ‘light’. Be careful where it is you look for it, and when you find it �" don’t let go of it like I did.

 

I didn’t say all the things I wished to have said. But I have to be brief and it’s time I began to wrap things up. I leave this not here for whoever may find it.

 

If anyone should ask of my whereabouts, just tell them I went back to Cyrodil….

 

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I wonder if I can swim across to Daggerfall…

 

Here I go…

© 2014 squeak


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Added on November 25, 2014
Last Updated on November 25, 2014
Tags: skyrim

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