User blog:Leea/The Tale of Voronwe, Chapter 66

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4th Era 171, 5th of Second Seed, Pyandonea
Nerien pushed his windblown hair back on his head. It was a nice view up here, on the porch. He applauded once again the long-distant architect - whoever he or she was - on the design; a viewing area on the roof of the building, yet protected from the elements by an ornate roof. As he replaced his helmet, he heard booted feet approaching from behind. He didn't bother to turn and look, as he recognized the gait.

"See any Altmeri ships?" Balachil asked, moving to stand to the side of his long-time friend.

"No, I don't. Its too far south for any Dominion vessels." he replied, glancing over.

"Right. Well, I just thought since they've announced war on the human Empire, they'd decide to take the war to us as well. We are their old enemies, after all."

"As much as I hate Orgnum, he has security in place to ensure the safety of Pyandonea from outside threats. We're safe from the Altmer, as well as the Bosmer and Khajiit." His mouth quirked up. "He just didn't expect internal threats, is all."

Balachil smiled a little. "Yeah, I know."

Nerien glanced over again, a few blond strands escaping the confines of his helmet once more. "You seem a little down. What's going on?"

Balachil's shoulders sagged. "I'm really depressed."

Again. He'd had bouts with depression before, the first when he'd been rejected for a position in the Sea Vipers, then another when Peladine had been sacrificed. He'd put on a brave face, said he was just fine, but Nerien knew him too well; it took him a long time to recover from that one, almost as long as when he'd received the Vipers' rejection letter. He'd also taken it quite hard when Carodaar had been killed, though he'd learned afterwards that it was quite neccesary. Now he was upset about something else. He supposed that he and Balachil were the opposite sides of the emotional spectrum: Balachil was on one side, the tender Elf who shows his emotions and would never try to hurt anyone; and himself, near the other side: the direct, no-nonsense, no-beating-around-the-bush Elf. It was not like he was hard-hearted and didn't have emotions like his friend. He did. He just had a different outlook on life since his sister had been taken from him by Orgnum so long ago. And she didn't just sail away on a ship, where he would have a chance to see her again. She'd been sacrificed for Orgnum's youth. He'd never see her again, except for in his memories.

"About what?" Nerien asked, not bothering to whisper. All Harbor Guards were members of the resistance now, so even if they were overheard in the headquarters here, there would be no repercussions.

"This war. The Aldmeri Dominion going to war with Men. Its very disheartening." he murmured, eyes cast down, shoulders sagging further.

Nerien grunted. So that was what it was about. "You should have expected it. I did. Its not to be wondered at."

Balachil's eyes, naturally wide and innocent looking to begin with, grew wider. "You don't care?" he gasped.

Nerien's voice softened. His friend was so much like the innocence of a young child that he sometimes had to remind himself to speak in a different manner. Not all Elves were like him, after all. "You misunderstand. What I meant was that it was to be expected anyway, in the first place. Of course I care."

"Oh."

"The Dominion is like Orgnum: they desire conquest and everything under their control. The only differences are that they are Altmer and Orgnum is a Maormer. They also have client states under their sway, while Orgnum has none." Nerien continued, explaining, tucking his errant hairs under his helmet once again. Balachil sighed. "I know." He straightened. "I hope the humans give the Dominion a beating." he stated, his lips in a firm line.

"Humans can be - and most of the time are - just as hardy as Elves. I'm sure they will," his friend stated, smiling slightly.

Balachil matched his smile. "I hope so. I really do."

The two friends turned their faces to the sea again, the swath of waters that separated them from the rest of the world and Summerset Isle, a hazy, thin line on the northern horizon.