Alijham's Backstory (in long-term progress)

In having difficulties pasting it from google docs for some reason >_> bare with me while I scream and thrash at the program

Prologue

His lungs burned as he gasped for air, fingernails broken and bloody from digging into his father’s thick, hide-consumed arms, so determined to break free from the chain fingers clasping his throat and worked into his ratty hair. He had no time to act, no time to breathe, no time to think before his head and shoulders were once again submerged. The water wasn’t even deep. He wished that it was deep, or at least deeper, so that the knots on his forehead would stop developing due to the rocks in the riverbed. Slimy globs of algae cushioned some of the unforgiving grey ornaments. His whole mouth was filled with the taste of salt; minerals; decaying marine organisms, being unearthed beneath the sand by his face; and his own blood. His scalp scalded as he was yanked up by his locks.

“Learned anything yet, hmn?” The father asked.

Being pulled up momentarily, the young one realized that more of his tears, snot and red secretion blanketed his face than that of river water. Bold and gritty, he launched a huge wad of bloody phlegm he had been keeping into the other man’s face. He knew exactly what was coming for him, but he would take it rather than suck up.

He let out a cry as his trembling, wheezing body was once again knocked free of breath. It wasn’t the river this time.

“Xarineau!” Came from the bushes. It was a grizzly voice, an elf with a limp emerging from the vegetation. “That’s enough.”

The father looked up to his name, leaving the boy to the dirt. Still yelping for air, he curled up to groan and writhe his pain away.

“Your wife was asking for you.”

Xarineau nodded. He turned, fists clenched. “Don’t let him go too far,” he said, jabbing a thumb at his son. “I don’t want him near Wood Orc territory tonight.”

The limping elf watched the other descend into the wood with a nod. He was surprised he let him go so easily. Perhaps he was already close to finished? After he was sure he had crunched his way far enough through the trees, he leaned down to hold out a hand. It was hastily slapped away with a growl.

“Get up, Alijham. You can’t lay there forever and wriggle,” he insisted. He grabbed his arm and pulled him up, letting the boy brace himself on his stubby, aged body. There wasn’t a protest; just a small groan.

He brought him to a hut right through the groundcover and damp trees. It was a tree itself, contoured by the magics of the other bosmer that inhabited the land before them, with various small tents outside full of recent game, not-so-recent pottery, and bones. He sat Alijham down on a stone counter, covered in a layer of hide and dimpled with messy designs and years of ware.

He slipped behind a furred divide of the room and rustled with bottles and leafy salves. As soon as the older mer left, Alijham began to cry into his hands.

He soon re-entered. A frown graced his cracked lips, as he set down his stash of alchemical devices aside and picked out a wet cloth. He began to wipe at the blood on the other’s face.

“Uncle Epis, I’m so sick of this,” Alijham said through his tears.

“I don’t like it when he puts his hands on you, either,” Epis replied with a sigh. “He does it because he loves you. He wants to prepare you for anything you could imagine, so when you get into the real world someday, you’ll say: “hey, this isn’t so bad.” When he sees you, he sees your brother.” he paused. “And you know how much he loved your brother.”

“He acts like he’s the only one who has ever felt that burn,” he sobbed. “He loved Berana? Oh yeah? Well I loved him too. It’s not my fault I’m the fucking walking disappointment. I can’t always be what he wants me to be, Uncle Epis, I’m not Berana, I can’t ever be--”

Epis pressed a finger to Alijham’s lips. “Stop,” he said tenderly. “You’re better than to think like that."

Alijham sighed. He worked a hand through his matted hair, full of soggy leaves and dirt, while Epis resume his wound blotting in the newfound silence. The young elf hunched over and watched his uncle clean him and apply salves to his scrapes and knots, his head almost completely blank. He could hear his pulse within his thoughts, blood rushing to the throbbing, oozing bumps: thump, thump, thump.

Chapter One

The sun came all but abruptly. Alijham spent all night groaning and tossing in the rugged guest hammock of his Uncle Epis'. When his eyes fluttered open, finally giving up on sleep, he rolled out of the hide sling and crept into the wood. He made his way to the Strid River, about a half mile from the village, a neighboring piece of the water body he was dunked in the night before.

He reached to scoop a hefty sum of murky river into both hands, but paused before his skin touched the water. Alijham looked into the eyes of the elf staring back at him. He ran a pair of fingers down the bridge of his thin, tapered nose. He scrunched it and bore his teeth. They were savage, sharp and rigid. His hair was an eruption of matted chestnut curls that devoured his back and shoulders. Fringed braids full of clay and wooden beads almost resembled dreadlocks here and there, leaves and dirt nestled wherever they pleased. His left eye was a dark wine red, thin, lengthy, and bulging at the lids. The other was clouded white. A stitch-dimpled scar ran down the blind eye, its brow, and the cheek below. He frowned at his reflection, like it would jump out and tackle him to the ground. His scowl deepened, picking up a stone and tossing it on to his second face. Little ringlets pulsed around where the stone had hit.

He got up and stood, facing the inlet from the sea. The sun peeked over the horizon just barely. It illuminated just enough, shards of light dancing across the water. Masser and Secundus still loomed.

"Is it always this quiet?" A voice asked. Alijham recognized it as his elder half brother, Nolos. He looked up.

"Only when the Wood Orcs aren't stirring," he replied, tossing another rock.

Nolos fingered a golden strand from his face, sitting down beside Alijham: posture-perfect. His warm amber eyes glittered, even in his reflection. "Uncle Epis told me about last night, how Father dragged you to the river again. What did you do?"

Alijham smacked his lips. He hunched over, heavy mop of falling over his face, chest, and shoulders. "I told him I didn't want to be the priest. I said I refused to, whether I'm in the bloodline 'er not."

"Don't you have to? It's Hircine's calling or something, right?"

"I don't know. I don't think so, it's just a family ritual. I shouldn't have to if I'm not devoted to it."

"It's our culture, Ali. I wouldn’t want you to be anything you didn’t want to be, but I also wouldn’t want to you disappoint Father.”

"Oh? No one asked what you thought. I don't give two guar shits. I don't want to be a priest, it's not for me."

Nolos sighed. He put the subject to rest. "You should get back to town," he said. "You promised the children you'd sing for them, and Father is probably waiting. You can't skip out on your alchemy again."

The younger brother gritted his teeth. "Leave me alone."

"You're just going to neglect everyone who's counting on you for your own personal enjoyment? Is that it, Alijham? That's so selfish. You're better than that." Nolos was taken aback by his body colliding with the river. Alijham flipped him in, pouncing on top of his sibling.

"Don't you get it!?" He roared. "I don't care! I'll spend the time I like on myself! Do you see how much is pushed on me each day, all of this shit that relies on me!? I didn't ask for this! If I could pass it to you, or anyone, I'd do it! I do it so fast th--" Nolos flipped him back, interrupting his brother. It evolved into a struggle of who could dunk who the hardest. Fits of growls erupted from the both of them, brief hides covering their bodies heavy with moisture and murky river plants.

Alijham grabbed a wad of algae, velvety and vomit-green, and chucked it at Nolos. Splat. It landed on his chest. The blonde scowled, launching himself at his brother. The two elves raked at one another with half-broken claws and rows of jagged, canine-like teeth, barking and spitting, bouncing down out of the river and onto the dampened, patchy-grassed hillside.

*

Nolos stopped to catch his breath, pinning Alijham down, claws in the dirt to keep him there. Both of their chests heaved.

Nolos stated the obvious;"Damn rascal," he brushed off his slimy collar. "I'm trying to save you from yourself, Alijham."

Alijham weakly batted his brother’s face with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of grassy mud. “Get off me.”

The older mer rolled off with a sigh. "You should go," he reminded. "Father is probably boiling at your lateness."

Chapter Two

Alijham only complied partially. He sat in the center of town, on the rim of the Treehenge tree, sun ready to set, lute in his lap and strings between his fingers. He strummed and sang. A little crowd of children was around him, some of them dancing, some singing along. It was a traditional song of the village, about a wolf hunting a rabbit.

Belisse, the mother of both Nolos and Alijham, scooted up gracefully beside of her singing son and sat. Her thin spidersilk robes flowed in the morning river winds, loosely braided and spun into a bun, flaxen and rustling along with her clothing. Belisse was a rather small mer. She had the soft brow of Alijham, and the powerful bronze gaze of Nolos.

Alijham faded off in his song, finishing. The children frowned, grabbing at his hide garments and whining for him to sing again.

Belisse ran a delicate thumb down the side of Alijham’s face. “Your voice seconds only that of Mara’s, love, but you know that you should be doing your studies.” She pulled one of the mewling children into her lap and ran her fingers through their hair.

"I will soon," he lied. "Just one more song."

"In not long, it will be dark. Don't you think you've done enough to put him on edge?"

"I said I'd go."

"I know that you won't, not unless someone drags you by your hair," she sighed. "And your father will. This is important, Alijham, learning his trade, the trade of all your forefathers, that and how to serve Hircine as his priest. It will be very useful to you when you need it most."

The children had all dispersed, including the one that was previously sitting in Belisse's lap. "Look, you scared them all off," Alijham changed the subject.

The lady of Treehenge shook her head. She touched her nose to her son's. "He only cares to teach you because he loves you," she changed it back. "If he didn't care, he wouldn't bother."

"But he doesn't care. He forces it upon me so everyone else doesn't think his son is a failure," Alijham snorted. "The high priest's heir is supposed to be all strong and smart, or something."

"Just go." Her arms squeezed around her son's waist lovingly, kissing his forehead. "Why you believe he does it is neither here nor there. He is very knowledgeable, and taking advantage of the sharing that knowledge is the best thing you can do at this point."

Father was the sixteen plains of Oblivion themselves, but Mother always knew best. He nodded slowly and rested his chin on a palm.

Might as well go, he thought, as it seemed he was being pushed in that direction. So he went.

Chapter Three

Most of the night was spent studying. Mixing potions after potions, trying new combinations, tasting reagents. He awoke, face in his desk. A couple potions had spilled into his hair and stickied his face. With a groan, he shoved all of the glassware and ingredients aside. Before he could pick up his head completely, an excruciating yelp rang in his ears. He shot up so fast he didn't have a moment to breathe. It came from the alchemy shop, he knew.

"Ali, thank Hircine!" Nolos sobbed, Belisse half limp in his arms. "G-Get it out of her!"

Alijham swallowed, blankly staring at the sudden scene. He stepped over, taking his mother and lying her on the counter. He dug through the shelves. Quickly, he began to clean around where the hilt of the carving knife protruded out of her chest.

"What.. what happened?" He asked softly.

"I don't know," Nolos replied, trying his best to suck up his tears. "I was out here picking mushrooms, and I heard her wheezing."

Alijham wrapped his fingers around the grip of the blade. "Hold on, Ma," he murmured. He took a long breath before ripping it out. Belisse's entire body jolted with a broken gasp. As fast as he could manage, Alijham plugged the wound with a clump of bandages. His hands trembled as he continued to clean it best he could.

Belisse's eyelids were heavy, watching Alijham.

"It's not that bad," he said. "The hole isn't very deep, and she didn't lose a lot of blood. I'm glad I ran out here when I did."

"Xarineau.." Belisse murmured.

Alijham paused. "Father did this?" His brow ruffled.

She shook her head wearily. "He..
he's gone."

"Gone!?" Nolos spoke up. "What do you mean, gone?"

"He left last night. I woke up, and he was just.. gone," she choked back her tears. "He brought all of his tomes with him, and his best glassware."

"So you did it to yourself," Alijham concluded bluntly.

Belisse just stared at him.

"Hircine only decide that I don't rip his throat out when I find him," he whipped around, limber frame falling into the doorway.

"Ali?" Nolos whimpered. "Please be careful." He held his mother's hand, face reddened in distress.

Alijham flared his nostrils at his brother with a small snort, stepping out the door to inhale. His senses swelled, ears twitching to the world around him, taking in all of the rainforest scents.

It wasn't long before he caught the familiar notion of his father. He followed it through the rough sylvan footpaths, a few miles deep into the thickets of Malabal Tor, until he stumbled upon a lone tree stump. It made him wonder about it, how a tree was cut so cleanly in the Valen. Surely one couldn't have fallen this way.. could it? Why would a tree but cut down in the Green Pact areas?

Amidst his wondering, a beige slip came to Alijham's attention, tucked into a half-rotted hole. He pulled it out: it was a note.

"Alijham," it addressed, "I'm sure there are countless questions in your head right now.

A time has come where I can no longer serve the village. I have left, not because I wish to, but because I have a greater calling with Hircine. I once expected you to serve as priest as I have, and as your brother was meant to, but I no longer abide by that opinion. If you are a fraction as clever as you pretend to be, you will leave. You will leave swiftly, to the furthest place you can possibly reach. You do not deserve to rot in this prison. If you stay or go, that decision is your own; but know now if you stay, nothing will ever become of your life.

Leaving is not easy, I know, but it is worth the regret of remaining here. I hope that you don't waste your life like I did."

Alijham shoved the parchment into his waist wrap. He moved as fast as he could trip over his legs through the trees and back to the village, to where his mother still lye. He caught his breath quickly.

"Did you find anything?" Nolos asked hushedly.

Alijham took a moment to consider. He shook his head. "I got a scent, but it stopped not far from here," he sighed. "I don't think.. I don't think he's coming back."

Nolos's eyes slowly mellowed down, welling with fat tears, though none of them fell.

"She's alright, isn't she?" Alijham sat down on the counter beside of Belisse.

"Yes," Nolos replied. "Just sleeping. The bleeding has stopped, I think."

"Promise me that you'll take care of her."

The elder brother's brow furrowed delicately. "Of course I will," he whispered.

Alijham nodded. He kissed his mother's forehead and turned to leave.

"Alijham?"

He turned around to his brother's voice.

"I love you."

Alijham hadn't replied to that particular remark since he was a small boy. It was appropriate, though, he thought, despite his hard head.

"I.. love you too," he murmured as he slouched through the door, dragging his fingertips along the outside walls of the hut. The scathing of his claws on the bark was a repulsive sound.

Chapter Four

Alijham's satchel was only half full when he slung it over his shoulder. He took with him merely a small wool blanket, few pieces of glassware for his alchemy, and a hunting knife; for it was all he felt he needed.

He took one last frown-ridden glance at the hillside of thickets, shrines of Hircine, and half-rotted tree homes. Wetting his lips in a silent goodbye, the trees to the North swallowed him up.

Reaper's March, he knew, wasn't far at all. He would slip into a caravan there and make his way up.

Chapter Five

The further he went, the more the greenery parted, opening new land: dust upon dust. Dry, cracked, grainy soil; rambling khajiit. The air grew lighter with the lessening humidity of the forests, but the temperature climbed and climbed.

Alijham's prayers were answered when he came across a small settlement of khajiiti structures. A large, worn building garnished the peak, stone stairs leading to it, begging to be swept. Not one feline nor mer was in sight. He knocked gently on the tarnished bronze double doors.

For minutes, he waited. There was no answer. He knocked again, and once more, no one came. The only sounds about included the birds and the wind. He gave up on knocking, and sent the door a shove. That did the trick.

Alijham crept inside on his toes, no louder than a senche tiger stalking their prey. The inside was half-ransacked. Much of the furniture was tipped on its side, dressers full of old, torn clothing erupting on to the floor. He prowled up the once gallant staircase and into what remained of a master bedroom, ravaging everything he could get his claws into.

After a thorough tear-through of the structure, Alijham’s conclusion was a pale yellow (probably originally white) sheet for building a tent if needed, an array of shards of wood for the same purpose, and a pair of rough jute britches.

He had never worn actual pants before. He stared at the cloth abomination, holding them against his legs in a broken mirror. They were woven thread, not hides, to his curiosity. Why make clothing with plants that requires so much work, when you could just skin a bear and wear that? No matter, he would give it a try.

He untied his leather belt and let his hides drop to the carved stone. The left leg came first with a grinding sensation, Alijham cringing harshly at the feeling of the thin cloth scathing his skin, hugging him and restraining him from the freedom of the kilt-like sash he was so attuned to. He stared at his reflection, making a few circles and tugging at the material stuck on his thighs. It fit him perfect--but he didn’t like a perfect fit. In fact, he hated a perfect fit. He whined at how it squeezed his hips and cradled parts he really didn’t believe needed to be cradled.

It will have to do, he thought, making for a stride towards the door; but walking wasn’t so easy. There was so much friction, friction everywhere, like a virgin rabbit being dragged across a bed of thorns. He would make it, he added optimism to his bank of foul thoughts. It was just pants. Pants would not be the end of Alijham.


Chapter Six

The Reaper’s March air was sticky and rough. It was as if the dryest sensation Alijham had ever felt, but the wettest as well, rousing a mixture of sicknesses in his tough elven belly. He was so tiny in this land, tinier than he was in the thickets of Malabal Tor, consumed by the cat folk and their powdery soil.

He knew it wouldn’t be long until he found a caravan to board. He had no money; nothing but his satchel, his pants, and his dignity. Paying for a ride wasn’t an option.

After a time of wandering away from the abandoned structure he found, he stumbled upon a trade town. There were no buildings, but there were tents, horses and goods, so he was assured he would be able to get transport through Elsweyr.

Alijham was grossly uncomfortable in the circle of settlement. He got an array of stares, khajiiti women picking up their cubs and dragging them away from his sight. It wasn’t long before the entire area was barren, each emptying into their tents, with the exception of one or two remaining to continue their work discreet of the small elf’s conspicion.

His conclusion was that it was a smuggling town, the way they stared him down and said not a word. He’d heard of many khajiiti smugglers, it was the only thing he really expected from living around other bosmer the entirety of his life and relying only their stories.

“Do you know where I can get transport North?” he asked one of the remaining workers, keeping a safe distance. The khajiiti man’s tail whipped from left to right, left to right, his slitted yellow gaze burning a hole through Alijham’s head.

After a good staredown, he spoke in his smooth, reprehensive Ta’Agra accent: “Does one have coin?”

“Surely I could offer you something else,” Alijham wet his lips, trying not to look at the cat man too directly. “I-I mean no, no I don’t. But I have capabilities.”

The khajiit smirked. “Capabilities, the elf says?” He extended a black-striped pumpkin arm to rest his paw on Alijham’s shoulder. He gave it a firm single squeeze.

Alijham nodded slowly. “I can mix potions.”

“This one is Ma’dijua. He works for Big One on the hill,” he pointed a clawed finger to the largest tent, set apart from the rest. “He works to keep everything up, he works all day, works and works and works.. perhaps if the elf could make something with a bite to it in hopes this one could catch a break?”

“You want me to poison him?”

“Ooh, don’t say it like that.. but the elf is not wrong. If one can do that, Ma’dijua is sure he can find transport North without a problem.”

“I can handle that,” Alijham smacked his lips. “Where can I work?”

Ma’dijua took a brief look around. “This way,” he prompted, waving an arm and beginning a walk to a near tent.

Alijham followed hesitantly. Ma’dijua slid the cloth doors shut, clearing a space on an otherwise messy wooden counter.

“How strong?” Alijham asked, emptying his glassware onto the surface. He looked up. “Do you want me to kill him?”

Ma’dijua snorted. “Nah, just sicken the big one for a while. This one doesn’t prefer to be fired.”

Alijham’s eye lingered on the khajiit for a few moments before it dropped back to his workspace. He pulled a combination of flowers and herbs from his satchel, beginning to mix and prepare the groggy River Strid water. Ma’dijua didn’t break his menacing gaze on the elf as he continued with his alchemy.

“You do know how much trouble I could get you in by telling him of this, do you not?” Alijham asked.

Ma’dijua’s lips parted, but he said nothing.

“Good. So make sure I get good port North.” Alijham didn’t smile or snort his usual fare, but he was prideful all the same inside. He felt himself dreadfully humorous, threatening blackmail on the khajiit, even if it was in small portions. Smugly, he finished the poison and slid it to the other. “It should just black him out for a bit. That is what you wanted, no?”

“Yes, that is what this one asked for.” Ma’dijua inspected the bottle. He slipped it into his pocket. “You come to Ma’dijua when Masser and Secundus show, he will get you what you need.”

Alijham took a step for the curtain. He turned back in brief, tongue gracing the roof of his mouth. “Then I’ll be here.”

Chapter Seven

It wasn’t long before dusk already. Alijham had found a spot right outside the village, by a rivulet, where he fished. He leaned back against a sandy boulder, lazily tugging at his bamboo rod. He’d found the fishing pole by an already existing camp. It probably belonged to some khajiit for their leisure time, but they wouldn’t miss one pole. It was cheaply assembled anyhow.

He reeled in and chewed on his tongue. Thoughts sprouted, questions: where had his father gone? How was his mother now? Had he driven her into even further grief by leaving as well? Very likely, he thought; but Nolos would take good care of her.

Crickets howled and wolves chirped into the shell of his ear and he sat there, clouded with thoughts. It was getting dark. He didn’t want to show Ma’dijua up, but he didn’t want to get up. So he slept.

Chapter Eight

The sun baked Alijham’s face, climbing up into his lids and ravaging them. His eyes whined and writhed before he reached up to shield them, groaning. His mind flittered, as it was only then he realized where he was.

“Did one sleep soundly?” Ma’dijua loomed over him.

Alijham sat up so quickly his vision puddled with blacks and blues, head smacking back down against the rock. He didn’t say anything.

“Get up.” The khajiit squeezed Alijham’s chin between his thumb and his index finger, claws dimpling his delicate young skin. He tilted it up. Alijham was still blinking rapidly, trying to adjust to a morning without trees to shade him. “Ma’dijua waited, and he waited, and he waited! The elf will not make him wait any more, come. Come, come on.” Ma’dijua grabbed Alijham’s forearm and yanked him up. Alijham growled, but he did not physically protest. The striped cat man slung his new friend over his shoulders and started to carry him to a cart up the hill. He dumped him inside and took his place right by the elf, leaning over it and rocking on his heels.

“Is one ready?” Ma’dijua asked again.

Alijham sat up. He worked his fingers through his hair, lip lifted in a pitiful scowl. “Where are we going?” He asked.

Ma’dijua took the makeshift reigns of the cart and started to pull them. “North,” he said. “That’s what the elf said, yes? This one will take you through the field, he knows where the caravans are loaded.”

Alijham relaxed into the cart and sat up. He watched the ground through a small hole in the bottom, chestnut ringlets hanging over his face.

His nostrils soon buckled with the scent of an unfamiliar cat man. "Ma'dijua.." He murmured, getting on his knees to look. There was, just as he thought, another khajiit approaching them from the village's direction. He was gargantuan. When Alijham caught sight of him, he blinked several times to ensure his poor depth perception wasn't responsible for the khajiit's size.

Ma'dijua swallowed. He paused, staring back. "That is Big One," he whispered.

Alijham smirked, splurting a laugh. "Ooh. You're in trouble, my furry friend."

Big One was grey and black splotched. He had little, beady orange eyes, eyes that were slitted thin and ready to storm right through Ma'dijua. He grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and held him as far as his meaty arms would reach.

"Did you have fun, Ma'dijua?!" He roared. Alijham winced, Big One's rancid yellow fangs creating a rather foul idea of what his mouth may smell like, right in the orange cat's face. He felt slight pity for Ma'dijua in that moment. Slight.

Big One forced a gust of breath through his teeth. He turned to Alijham, dropping Ma'dijua to the dirt. "And who is this?" He cocked his head and took a step towards him. Alijham receded into his shoulders, not daring to blink.

“No matter, you’ll both rot together in the cells. I’m sure you had so much of a time last night, that it will make up for time lost..” Big One curled a groomed paw around Alijham’s petit elven waist and tossed him over his shoulder, Ma’dijua under his other arm.

Alijham let out a yell and started wriggling and thrashing. “The only person who is allowed to put their hands on me is my mother!” He barked, a stiff, defiant sheen in his eye; although this was clearly untrue. He had no choice but to allow his father’s touch.

Ma’dijua blinked at his elven comrade, shaking his head at him.

Big One snarled. He held Alijham up by his hair. “I touch whatever I like, elf.” He leaned in so close to him that their noses brushed. Alijham was right: his breath was horrible.

He sucked in the back of his throat and forced a thick yellow glob of phlegm out, right on to Big One’s lips. The khajiit dropped Ma’dijua and lunged for Alijham. The elf dove aside and seized a position on the other’s back, locking his arms around his neck. Big One sprung into the air, agile for his size, and slammed down on to his back. The breath was forced out of Alijham. He closed his eyes into an overwhelming daze.

Chapter Nine

Alijham rubbed and clawed all over his head. It, his back, and his chest pulsed with an excrutiating, blunt pain.

“Is one happy with himself?” Ma’dijua groaned. He lie on his back, arms folded behind his head, half-turned towards Alijham.

“Yes,” Alijham replied. His voice was shaky through the pain, but stubborn nonetheless. “I’m very happy with myself,” he snarked.

“Ma’dijua and the elf could have gotten out of there just fine, without a single scratch, but no!” Ma’dijua flailed his arms, smacking them to his thighs exasperatedly. “The little rebel had to have a piss fit, and he got both Ma’dijua and him into a cell!”

Alijham scoffed. He drooped his head so his hair would shield his grin. “Don’t raise your voice at me, kitten. I did what was necessary.”

“Necessary,” Ma’dijua repeated mockingly. “Necessary, yes.. yes..”

“Shaddup, my heart hurts.”

Ma’dijua stood up. “The elf’s head hurts? Boo-fucking-hoo! Ma’dijua had nothing to do with it! This one hopes it aches so bad he is asked to split it!”

“I told you to shaddup.”

Ma’dijua rolled his eyes and sunk against the cell wall, giving up. His tail thumped the cold stone sourly.

After a few moments in silence, Alijham, with the help of the wall, stood. His nostrils trembled. He nestled himself into the corner of the blunt room and knelt. Where a bedroll lie there, he picked it up and pressed his palms to the floor, feeling around.

Ma”dijua looked up. His striped brow dimpled, ears pinning. “What is one doing?”

“There’s a draft,” Alijham mumbled through his curtain of curls. He cleared the layer of hay from the floor, a fat smile creeping on to his lips. "Exactly what I thought."

"Huh?" Ma'dijua crawled over to him. He smiled as well. "How did one find this?"

"The air was moving, I could feel it. Just barely. I was trying to figure out where it was coming from, and it was apparently from this trap door."

Ma'dijua set a hand on Alijham's shoulder, leaning over him. "Can it be opened?"

"Somehow," Alijham snorted. "Hircine only knows how long we'll be in here if we can't crack it." He started tearing at the bolts. Ma'dijua helped him, trying to pry it up with his claws, even leaning to bite at them. Alijham braced his teeth around a bolt, too, and squeezed his eyes shut. It tasted as old as it looked. He twisted his head several times, trying to get it to budge. He emerged victorious. With his hands, he winded the giant screw out the rest of the way.

"Not very strong," he said, spitting periodically onto the floor.

"Yes," Ma'dijua glanced over at him. "This place has been here for.. well, a very long time."

"Ever been in here before?" Alijham asked as he worked on the other bolts.

"Ahh.. once or twice."

"Why do I get the feeling that's not true?" He chuckled.

"Big One isn't fond of Ma'dijua. Probably why he thought it was this one that dealt him the poison.."

"Or knew."

Clunk. The trap door slid aside as Alijham and Ma'dijua pryed their fingers underneath. They exchanged small glances of triumph.

"You first," Ma'dijua stared into the abyss behind the door, eyes wide and timid.

Alijham scoffed. "If you insist," he lowered himself into it, darkness grasping his ankles and swallowing his entirety. He let out a scream of horror as the thump of his feet hitting the dirt rang upward to Ma'dijua.

Ma'dijua whined. He hugged himself. "I-Is.. is the elf okay?" Although he couldn't see anything below, he didn't dare to peek.

"I'm just pulling your tail," Alijham snickered. "Come on, it's fine."

"That was rude." He climbed down with a grumble and a mumble.

Beneath them was dry, cracked soil. It was an underground cavern of a sort. Alijham tip-toed forward, sniffing, eyes narrowed. “Do you feel it?” He asked.

Ma’dijua nodded. “The draft.” He followed Alijham further into the pit, where a light slowly made its way toward them.

Alijham ran ahead. There, where the cave of dirt stopped, was a peep of sun sprouting down from above. He stretched and stretched, but the little elf simply couldn’t reach it. Ma’dijua came to him and scooped him up, setting him on his shoulders. Alijham scoffed but complied. He lifted the plank of split wood and climbed out. He extended his hands down for the khajiit.

Ma’dijua dusted himself off and looked around. “This is..?” He wore a puzzled expression, but it shortly transitioned. “..This is Pa’Alat. This one goes here for trade, it is not far from the village. Ma’dijua and the elf should get out of here before someone recognizes Ma’dijua.”

“Then c’mon,” Alijham gave him a nudge. The two of them scuttled around the skirts of the trade town and beyond it, where the rippling rocks jutted out of the ground and skeevers snickered.

“This one knows where the caravans load out here. It’s a bit of a longer walk from this direction, but Ma’dijua and the elf would be smart not to risk going back.”

“Fine, I have legs. How far?”

“Couple miles, once I’ve got a caravan. Will you be coming with me?”

“Moons, no. Big One would have me hunted,” Ma’dijua chuckled. “This one will just pop back into that cell and pretend nothing ever happened.” The khajiit began to lead Alijham out, but Alijham paused.

“My satchel, that bastard has my satchel. I’ve got all of my alchemy goods in there. My knife, too.”," he replied, pointing over the dry formations in the distance. There was a dip in the land where the sky met the dirt. "See there?"

Alijham nodded and followed slowly, watching his feet to be sure he didn't get an anthill crushed between his toes. The sun introduced him to a new kind of exhaustion. It forced beads of oily, salty fluids to stream down his face, his hair drenched and his throat stinging. He hoped the stories he'd heard of frosted Northern lands were true.

Chapter Ten

Nolos wet his lips, glancing to Belisse. She was smiling.

"He's gone, too, Ma."

"I know."

Nolos's lips were trembling slightly. His brilliant golden gaze floated to the rich humus floor. Belisse scooted closer to her son and draped both arms over his shoulders, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. She tangled her gentle fingers into his hair and turned his chin up to look at her.

"That's what he wanted, Nolos. You see that, don't you? It's what he needed."

"He's only fifteen, he'll die out there. I want to go after him."

Belisse shook her head. "He may be fiery, but he's far from ignorant. He knows how to take care of himself. He's probably very happy."

"He can't be happy if he's dead."

"And he can't be happy if he's here. Have you seen him, Nolos? The way he looks at these people?"

Nolos only answered her question in his head. "Who will be the high priest, if not him?" He asked quietly.

"Epis, I reckon. Or myself. Alijham never wanted to be the priest, you know that."

"But it was his duty."

"You are so noble, Nolos. Sometimes I think you're the only one," she let a smell breath out of her nose. "He had the blood for it, but never the heart. Alijham is not a priest. He's.. he's a scapegrace, a renegade. He needs to be free from all of his chains, or he will never truly be happy. Now he is happy."

Nolos swallowed, hugging himself over top of his mother's arms. "It makes me guilty, though. Wherever he goes, I won't be there to protect him."

"The only thing you have now to protect him from is--"

"--Himself," Nolos interrupted her. "He's a danger to himself."

"Only if he makes himself so. He will be okay." She stood, her arms dragging from her son back to her sides. She pulled her hide shaul tightly over her shoulders and head, the prevalent Malabal Tor rain pit-pattering on the tree hut's roof. She pushed herself out the door with no sacrifice of grace.

Nolos hung his head down, flaxen, combed hair folding onto his knees. His eyes fluttered shut into a silent capsule of emotion.

Chapter Eleven

"This one will find an unguarded caravan. You hop on and just wait until the drivers come, all here are heading at least a few miles North. Into Cyrodiil, Ma'dijua thinks."

"And you've done this before?" Alijham quirked a brow.

"Uhh.. no. But he is pretty sure it will work."

Alijham sighed. "Nice. So I may or may not get thrown in another cell?"

"Depending on how sneaky the elf is," Ma'dijua winked.

Alijham would have smacked Ma'dijua in the head, but he decided being stealthy was the best option. He wasn't paying coin he didn't have. “Alright,” he agreed. “I’ll see if I can find somewhere to nestle myself.”

Tents spotted the hills. Grass had just begun to sprout through the rigid soil; long, tough stalks. The sun only grew more gut-wrenching, so hot one could almost heard it in a throbbing zing, zing, zing on the caravan tops that were being loaded by scarcely-clad cat men.

Ma’dijua brushed his paw on Alijham’s shoulder, pointing to a covered wagon. It had several layers of scrappy cloth on top. A bobtailed beige khajiit walked back and forth from it, carrying crates that appeared to be full of food and drink, much too large for her slender felioness body.

"Does one see that woman?" Ma'dijua asked. Alijham nodded slowly. "Scoot in when the khajiit goes to get more things, the elf should have plenty of time to get comfortable."

"Are you sure about this?" Alijham asked.

"Of course," Ma'dijua replied, less than positive. "The lady is not strong, doesn't one see? There are no guards or bulky ones to prevent you."

Alijham silently agreed. He made his way to the caravan and waited for the khajiit to finish loading the crate she held. Ma'dijua dipped his chin to his eleven friend, eyes wandering around to make sure that no others were watching. He slipped through the arched hole in the back of his transportation unit and climbed between the crates. He cleared a small space for himself in the very back, where he pulled a sheet from one of them and stretched it between the largest crates, huddling under it.

To the right of Alijham was a box of fruits: bananas, coconuts, pineapples, dragon fruit, passion fruit; things from his homeland of Malabal Tor no doubt. To the left there seemed to be supplies. He stuck a hand in and felt around--indeed; more sheets, rope, hide. That was the only thing being carried in the caravan, he thought. He allowed himself to sink to the wood plank floor and his eyes fluttered shut. Just as he did so, he felt his surroundings lurch and the wheels pick up on the rocks. Horses whinnied and whips cracked.

Chapter Twelve

With a fat yawn and a stretch, Alijham remembered where he was. His arms and legs bent against the various boxes. He grunted and sat up, a piercing hunger pillaging his gut. He almost began to panic at the notion of food before he remembered the crate of fruit beside of him. He smacked his lips and crinkled his nose, certainly not used to eating fruits, although they were the bearings of his home. He plunged a hand in and felt around. He pulled out a coconut. That was more like meat than a banana, right? He propped himself onto his knees and dug through the supply crate, searching for something to open it with. He found nothing. It couldn't be that hard to open a coconut. First, he gave it a smack against the floor. Nothing happened. Next, he whacked it against his head. That was, quite obviously, a bad idea. He whined at the ache and punched the coconut, angry at the inanimate object for spiting him so. How dare that furry sphere! Although the coconut was a challenge, he was determined to succeed. He opened his mouth as wide as he could and rammed it into the points of his teeth. It hurt his jaw, but that was about it. He started gnawing on the side of it. That didn't work either.

Right then, Alijham remembered his hunting knife in his satchel--his satchel that was still somewhere in that cell. He felt stupid he didn't remember to get it, as it had all of his alchemy supplies and more inside of it. The anger gave him an idea. He set the coconut on the floor and gritted his teeth. He held it there and jumped up on his knees, forcing all of his weight on top of it. Although he was not very heavy, he was enough to break the coconut. He split it open, its water sloshing into either side, some of it soaking into the caravan's flooring. He picked up one half and guzzled it, followed by the other. He vochally expressed his pleasure with the coconut water with a small "Mm". With his teeth, he scraped out the insides and ate them chunk by chunk.

After just a few minutes, the remnants of two coconuts, four bananas, one dragon fruit, and a half a pineapple lye on the floor. Alijham pushed the scraps aside and snuggled into his sheet to get back to sleeping. He attempted this, but the caravan rippled to a stop. He pulled the sheet back over his head.

The mumbling of a female khajiit could be heard near the back entrance, rustling through the crates. Alijham huddled into a ball and hoped she wouldn't see him. That, though, was in vain.

"You could have asked to come up front instead of sweating back here and eating all Ji'norbi's goods."

He popped his head out of the sheet, staring at her like she was shaking a flaming spear at him. He backed further into the caravan, unsure of what to do or think.

Ji'norbi giggled. She climbed up and held out her paw. "This one doesn't bite, she can see that you were very hungry. Come out."

He did as he was asked and brushed off his incredibly uncomfortable pants.

The khajiit gasped quietly. "You are so small! Oh, dark moons, you must have been so scared!" She threw her arms around him and squeezed him tightly, rocking back and fourth. She humored Alijham, as he was, although shorter, almost twice as muscular. With his teeth and claws, he could have swiftly killed her.

Alijham's mouth gaped slightly. He went limp, completely paralyzed.

"Sweeeeeeeet, sweeeeeeeet eeeeeeelf.." She whispered, stroking his hair.

Alijham kind of wanted to deck her right then and there for damaging his manly pride, but he stayed put. At the same time of hating it, he liked the attention.

"Ji'norbi is so sorry you had to go through all of that! Come up from with her, come." She grabbed his hands and dragged him to her destination. She climbed up to where the reigns of the horses lye, Alijham right behind her, stumbling to keep up. She grabbed the reigns and gave them a whap, the caravan again lurching.

"What were you doing hiding back there, little one?" Ji'norbi asked.

Alijham ignored the name. "I was, uh.. trying to get transport somewhere."

"The one doesn't know how much she can help you. She has to get to Cheydinhal and drop off these boxes, Mr.Auriel is waiting. Ji'norbi brings food and supplies out to him the first Morndas of every month.”

“That sounds like a pretty long journey for once a month. Where, uh, is.. Cheydinhal exactly?”

Ji’norbi giggled. “Well, we’re somewhere between Arenthia and Dune. Cheydinhal is in Northeast Cyrodiil. The border is just a few miles North; the trip is two and a half days if the hoses are feeling swift.”

Alijham remembered mumbling in the village, mostly between his father and Epis, of a place called Arenthia. It was supposedly just a mile or two from where they resided. He concluded that he hadn’t gone very far from where he began, and he wore a short pout.

“Two and a half days?” Alijham furrowed his brow.

“Yes,” the khajiit replied. “Is that a long time for you?”

Alijham said nothing. He watched the road pass under the caravan, how the dusty soil clouded up beneath the wheels. It made a sort of thin, airy barrier to any that may come hoping harm upon it, like a shield to riddle any with coughs.

“You know,” Ji’norbi began to speak once again, “you should be more careful. Not everyone is so nice as this one; some traders would try and kill you. Organs of elves are sold in the black market for dirty alchemists and the sort.”

“You know,” Alijham mimiced her accent, “you talk too much.”

A few more moments passed in silence. Ji’norbi scrunched her lips into a circle on the tip of her squat muzzle, her bobtail beating the wood she sat on. Her expression almost resembled anger. More the anger of a tiny elderly lady than one of a young khajiit, but anger all the same.

“Do you stop anywhere on the way?” Alijham broke the quiet. “Or is this it?”

“This one is sorry, she can’t answer any more questions. She apparently talks too much.”

Alijham stuck up his nose with a small snort and folded his arms. He leaned back and shut his eyes, hoping he could ease himself back to sleep. Being unconscious for most of the ride was more more pleasant than sitting idly.