Dear Lydia:
I’m sorry it’s been so long. It’s going to be a few more days yet before I get back, maybe more than a few, I’m not sure; so I‘m sending the courier along ahead of me. I may have found someone who can tell me about my sister.
You wouldn’t believe what I’ve been through. I went to the College, and met the archivist. He sent me looking for an old mage named Septimus Signus, who said I could find the item I need in Blackreach and gave me a couple of contraptions to get me there. Do you know of Blackreach? It’s the weirdest place I’ve ever seen.
To get there I first had to go through an old Dwemer ruin. Let’s just say that I had more than a few close calls. Those old Dwemer constructs are still alive, not just standing around like the ones in the museum in Markarth, and they really hit hard. In fact, the only reason I made it to where I needed to be was that I had one kind of iffy invisibility potion that I made myself. It let me sneak past the Centurion that was trying to steam me alive. One of the things Septimus gave me unlocked a stairway down into Blackreach.
That place is dark. It would be pitch black if not for this gigantic lighted ball in the middle of it, up near the roof, and all sorts of glowing mushrooms and floating – things that glow. There’s just enough light to see the Falmer by. I was able to sneak around most of them and find the lift that led up to another Dwemer place, the Tower of Mzark. And that’s where I found, well, the thing I’d been looking for. I’ll tell you about it when I get home. I don’t trust a piece of parchment for holding those words.
I had to go back to Septimus and give him the cube he was looking for, so that set me back several days. Now I’m back in Windhelm. While I was selling some of the stuff I gathered along the way – there was a lot of it, thus the coin purse I’m sending – I started talking to the smith. Seems that he has met my sister!!! He told me about a man who knows her and is from Kynesgrove. With any luck he’ll be there when I get there and we can go find her.
I can hardly believe I’m this close to finding her after all this time. I hope you understand why I can’t come straight home. Please give my love to Lucia and tell her that her Papa is fine and can’t wait to see her again.
All my best,
Dardeh
Dardeh looked the letter over, then folded and sealed it and beckoned to the courier.
“Same deal as before, yes? You take this letter and this purse to Lydia and it arrives to her in exactly the same condition as it was when I handed it to you, or I will come and find you.” He smiled.
The courier nodded. “Yessir. No problem at all, I will get it to her right away.” He turned and scurried out the door as quickly as he could move.
Dardeh leaned back in his chair next to the fireplace. Candlehearth Hall was beginning to feel familiar and comfortable what with all the time he spent there, he thought. An evening with a nice bottle of ale next to a warm fire was just what he needed after everything he’d been through. He couldn’t help but frown, though, thinking about the things he hadn’t told Lydia.
There was, for instance, the small matter of the bandit who had attacked him as he made his way down from High Hrothgar. He had drawn his swords, but what had gotten the man was his Shout. He hadn’t actually thought about it. From somewhere deep inside him “YOL!” had erupted; the man’s body had rolled down the hill toward him, leaving scorched marks in the snow. Dardeh had stood, staring at him, for a long while, wondering why he had Shouted the man to death without a moment of hesitation.
Is this what the man in that dream – Jine — meant? We kill them all? My ancestors – and I?
He hadn’t told Lydia about using the name Dragonborn to get into the College, and then again to convince Urag gro-Shub, the Archivist, to let him see information on the Elder Scrolls. It was pretty useful. “Are you just someone’s errand boy?” Urag had asked. Dardeh had bristled and dropped his title on Urag’s desk, so to speak, to be met with suddenly gracious assistance in his research.
He had asked Urag what he knew about the history of Stros M’Kai. Aside from the snide comments about a Redguard not knowing his own history he’d been really helpful. The books he located spoke of the snake charmers of the island, one of whom was named Avik. Could this be the Avik to whom Jine was related, according to his surname? If so that meant Dardeh came in part from a family of snake charmers. Something about that tickled the back of his mind, and he had thought about it all the way through the Dwemer ruin and Blackreach.
Is that the power he was talking about, that we all share? Snakes are hardly dragons, but maybe? Would this dragon thing be something that comes from my ancestors? Could any of them have been Dragonborn – if the need had been there?
He hadn’t told Lydia about the dragon attack in Winterhold, just as he’d been leaving to find Septimus Signus, when he used an old Akaviri blade he had picked up in Sky Haven Temple that seemed to do much more damage to a dragon than a regular blade. Or the snow bear he had Shouted at, sending it flying off a cliff to its death.
Dardeh definitely hadn’t mentioned the bizarre encounter he’d had while leaving Septimus Signus’ hideout for the second time, after his trip to Blackreach. He had been walking up the icy ramp to the cave’s exit and found his way blocked by something horrific: a writhing mass of tentacles with what looked like hundreds of greenish eyeballs, all of which constantly changed size and position in an unsettling, fluid movement.
“I am Hermaeus Mora,” it had said to him in a voice as deep as the Void. “I am the guardian of the unseen, and knower of the unknown. I have been watching you, mortal.”
Dardeh had nearly passed out.
A Daedric prince.
Hermaeus Mora wanted him to collect blood from every type of elf so that Septimus Signus could use them as a key to a Dwemer lockbox there in Septimus’ quarters. And then, he pronounced, Signus would die, and Dardeh would become Hermaeus Mora’s champion.
Dardeh had refused, vigorously. Hermaeus Mora had laughed.
“Many have thought as you do. I have … broken them all. You shall not evade me forever,” he had said.
Dardeh wouldn’t share that with Lydia. The dragons were bad enough. There’d been another one, between Windhelm and Kynesgrove, and he’d fought it as hard as he’d ever fought anything. All he could think of was the wooden buildings, the thatched roofs, and all the people inside; and he’d answered fire with fire and stabbed with the long Akaviri blade, finishing the beast by driving that blade through its skull into its brain, roaring his rage.
He also hadn’t shared the fact that now, after all of the travelling and fighting and exploring he’d done already, he needed to climb back up that godsforsaken mountain again, all the way to the top, just to read the Elder Scroll he had found in Mzark. That would have worried her too much. It also would have borne the potential to make him even more a target than he already was if someone got hold of the letter.
He wasn’t ever going to tell Lydia these things, if he could possibly help it.
He had come back into Windhelm via the docks, up through the narrow passage to the city, and had headed straight for the Temple of Talos. He stood for long moments, looking up at the gigantic statue of his god standing astride a slain dragon – or perhaps a gigantic snake.
I wonder if he was as confused as I am, back when he was mortal and discovered that he was Dragonborn.
He reached out to touch the shrine. The idea that the god he worshipped had also been Dragonborn was more than a little overwhelming. He kept hearing Arngeir cautioning against the arrogance of power. Maybe he’d been feeling a bit of that, he thought, when he used his status to get into the College in spite of having little magic, or to cow Urag into bringing him material on the Elder Scrolls.
I’m not like you. I’m not a god. I’m just one man. I can’t do it alone. Talos guide me.
The energy of the shrine when he activated it felt particularly warm and light on that cold day.
He had left the Temple and gone to see about selling some things to Oengul. They’d been haggling over bits and pieces for a few minutes when it occurred to Dardeh that of all the places he’d asked about his sister, Windhelm had not been one of them. There had just been too many other things to deal with.
“I wonder, Oengul,” he had said. “I’m looking for my half-sister and I wonder if there’s any chance you might have met her. She’s Redguard, with black hair, but with green eyes and a scar down the side of her face.” He drew a finger down his left cheek to illustrate, as his mother had described it to him.
“Oh, of course, I know just who you’re talking about,” Oengul replied, barely looking up from sharpening the sword he was working on. “She’s been here any number of times.”
Dardeh’s mouth fell open.
“Do you know where she is now?”
“No, haven’t seen her in some little while, but I’ll tell you who might know if anyone does. Roggi Knot-Beard, down in Kynesgrove. Last I heard he was still working the mine down there. He hadn’t shown his face around here in, oh, ten years or so and then suddenly turned up with this girl. I got the impression he was pretty sweet on her. Go find him. I’ll bet he knows.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much. You can’t imagine how long I’ve been looking for her and all I find is hints of where she was before. I’ll go there first thing tomorrow.” He sold Oengul a particularly nice sword for far less than it was worth, as a show of gratitude for the information.
Dardeh took another long pull of his ale, grinned, and stretched his feet out toward the fire. First thing in the morning. I can’t believe I have an actual lead. It’s been months. The Elder Scroll is just going to have to wait for a bit.
__________________
“Come in, and shake the cold off,” the woman behind the bar called to him. He made his way to her and slid onto one of the stools.
“I’d like an ale, please,” he said, sliding a few coins across the bar. “And, uh, bread and cheese?”
“Sure thing. One moment,” she said, rustling about for a few moments and bringing him his snack. “I’m Iddra. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
Dardeh started munching on the bread and cheese and then caught her attention again. “Um, I’m looking for someone who’s supposed to live around here. Oengul up in Windhelm sent me this way. His name is Roggi?”
The woman smiled. “Of course. I think he’s in the mine right now, but if he isn’t you might check his house. It’s the second one down the hill.” She frowned. “Usually I would have told you to just turn around and look, he spent so much time in here just drinking away what he made and then some, but he’s been, well… different since he came back from being away this time. It’s good for him, not so good for me. Still, the mine’s where you should check first. It’s usually a safe bet.”
“Thanks, Iddra. I’ll head out there now.”
He finished his food and rose to head out the door.
Steamscorch Mine wasn’t too far away, just in back of the inn and up a short rise. He opened its doors and looked around, grinning. Malachite. Lots of it.
There was a pickaxe leaning against the wall of the downward ramp. He picked it up and slung it over his shoulder. Can’t imagine they’d refuse a little help and I’m itching to hit some rock.
There was a surly-looking Nord standing at the entrance to a side passage, his arms crossed. “Mining is hard work,” he said as Dardeh approached. “But we’ll pay fair coin for anything you dig up. My name’s Kjeld. I run the mine.”
“Good enough. I’ll be happy to dig some up for you. I’m from out by Markarth and mining’s what I know.” Dardeh smiled at him. “Listen, I’m looking for someone named Roggi. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?”
The man chuckled. “Turn around and look at the table. He’s right there.”
Dardeh glanced behind him and saw the back of a seated man, with long blonde hair pulled into a tail. He was obviously eating a snack and his attention was on it and nothing else. Dardeh nodded thanks at Kjeld and walked over to the table, to where he could see the man’s face.
And he almost passed out. The blood first rushed away from his head and then back into it; his mouth went dry.
It’s him.
By the Nine it’s him. He’s Roggi Knot-Beard? I know his name now. I know his name. I can’t believe it. I wasn’t sure I’d ever find him.
Roggi looked up at him in surprise as he realized someone was next to him; then a brilliant smile broke over his face. It was the same smile Dardeh had seen in Whiterun, all that time ago.
“Well, look who it is! Good to see you, Dardeh! What brings you here?”
Dardeh’s knees were threatening to give out on him. He remembers me. By Ysmir.
“Um, uh… can I share the bench for a second?”
Roggi frowned. “Of course. Are you all right?”
“I will be, just give me a second. I’m just … really surprised.” By finding out it’s you, by what on earth is going on with this body of mine right this second. He slid onto the bench beside Roggi and scolded his heart for racing just because of the proximity of this man he’d been thinking about, ever since they had parted in Whiterun. He blew out a deep breath and then turned to face Roggi.
Same blue eyes. Same wonderful voice. Same beautiful smile. I can’t believe it.
“I was, uh, looking for you. Or whoever it was that turned out to be Roggi. Oengul sent me down here when I was asking about…” He paused and shook his head. “I really can’t get over it, that you’re Roggi.”
“It’s not like we’ve never met.” He grinned.
“Well yes, but you never gave me your names,” Dardeh replied weakly. “I could have kicked myself when I realized that later that day. So here’s the thing. You remember I was hunting dragons, yes?”
Roggi’s eyes twinkled. “Yes. And you wouldn’t believe how many people told me I was crazy when I mentioned I had met the Dragonborn.”
Dardeh grimaced. “Yes, well. That has turned out to be a whole lot more trouble than it’s worth. Don’t go just spreading that around, please? It seems to get me into all sorts of tight spots these days.”
“Of course not,” Roggi told him, nodding. “I’ll try to keep my mouth shut.”
Dardeh looked him directly in the eyes and felt faint again. The reaction he felt every time he looked at the man was visceral. Overwhelming.
So he’s the one, Dar?
Dardeh blinked.
Yes, Ma. He’s the one. You told me I’d know it when the time was right and I do.
Why are my dead relatives talking to me, anyway? Am I crazy?
He shook his head to bring himself back to the moment. “So, here’s the thing, Roggi. I’m a little overwhelmed right now, because,” he paused, realizing that he really was overwhelmed, “I’ve been looking for my sister, not just hunting dragons. You remember that, yes?”
Roggi nodded. “Of course.”
“Well Oengul sent me down here to talk to you. Said you’d been to Windhelm in the company of a Redguard girl with a scar. And we both know who you were with when I met you in Whiterun.”
Roggi frowned. “Yes.”
Oh? What’s this reaction?
“Was her name, by any chance, Dagnell? Because I never got her name, either.”
He nodded. “Yes, that’s her name.”
Dardeh smiled. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it. Roggi, that’s my sister.”
Roggi’s eyes opened wider. “Wait a minute. What?”
Dardeh nodded, and told him the story. All he’d had to go on, all this time, was his mother’s deathbed story: his father’s name, his wife’s name, where they’d all been, what his sister was supposed to have looked like – and her name. Dagnell.
“Well, I don’t quite know what to say,” Roggi said quietly. “I wish we’d known, back then. Too bad we weren’t bright enough to tell you our names, but we were, eh, how to say it. In a bit of a hurry to get out of town. Or at least she was.”
Oh really? Well, it doesn’t matter now.
Dardeh found his arm moving, as though he was about to grab Roggi’s hand, and he had to catch himself. What am I doing? Just because we know each other doesn’t mean I can get… familiar.
“So can you take me to where she is? Introduce us? Tell me where she is? Roggi, she’s the only family I have in the world. It would mean so much.”
Roggi frowned and shook his head. “No.”
“Wh– why not?”
“I don’t know where she is. I know where she went. She went to Riften.” He raised his gaze to meet Dardeh’s; he looked sad. “She, uh, married a man named Brynjolf.”
Dardeh blinked. “Wait, I’ve heard that name. I was supposed to look him up, quite a long while ago now, to find some information.”
Roggi chuckled. “And you thought he’d give you information? No, not Bryn. You have to get on his good side to get information out of him. Or pay him a good chunk of change.”
So he knows this Brynjolf, this guy I was supposed to meet but didn’t. And he knows him well enough to call him by a short name. And if she married him… that means he’s my brother-in-law. By the Nine.
Dardeh blew out a breath.
“Listen, I want to talk to you about this, more. A lot. But it’s working hours and I’ve already taken up a lot of your time. I know I’m not really dressed for it but I can be, in a minute and, uh, I’m a miner. From Markarth. How about I help you dig up some malachite and I’ll treat you to a drink later. What say you?”
Roggi smiled, and Dardeh felt butterflies dancing in his stomach. “Sure thing. You know, it takes uncommon strength to work the mines in Skyrim. The earth is cold and hard. Like the heart of a Nord. Let’s get to it.” He stood and headed down the ramp deeper into the mine.
Is my heart cold and hard? I’m Nord.
The dragon fire rising up in him told him otherwise. He was not cold and hard. He was hot, hot and pliable, like steel being pounded into the shape of an Alik’r saber.
He slipped out of his armor and followed Roggi down to find some malachite.