When Ulfric killed High King Torygg, it didn't mean much for the college. Kings die, and often prematurely. But the cogs of politics croaked and their teeth turned other gears forward. Ulfric's rebellion was announced. The Stormcloak militia began a rage of captures across Winterhold and Riften. Fortresses and villages fell, and Ulfric called the Jarls to join his plight, but instead, the Imperial armies scrambled their forces and were able to reassert control for a short moment.
Winterhold swarmed with Imperial soldiers. Mud clumped their clothes and boots, and their attitudes were bruised by raids in the mountains. The soldiers hung around the side of streets. They bothered the locals, checking bags, entering yards, and accused anybody looking the wrong way of being a rebel. People began to disappear at night, or found hanging in the morning with a sign reading "traitor" on their necks.
One afternoon, there came a clanging at the front gate of the college. A squad of Imperial soldiers were gathered, peeking through the bars. Students and faculty trickled out. They all hung around the edges of the courtyard, whispering to each other.
Faralda joined them, gossiping about it to Drevis Neloren, her colleague. She thought it was a courtesy call and nothing more. As bloody as they were, it'd be stupid to anger an entire college worth of wizards, especially as they had little to do with the local Nord elements.
The soldiers called out to students, asking to be let in, but nobody replied. Eventually the Master Wizard, Mirabelle, met them, walking up by herself. She spoke with their officer through the bars, then made the gates open with a flick of magic. She escorted the officer, and only him, to meet the Arch-mage.
Not ten minutes, and Mirabelle and the officer emerged. Mirabelle escorted him back out and shut the gate behind him. The students approached her like chickens pecking for an answer. She shook her head in disbelief, "What are you all gawking at? Continue with your day."
They all scattered, disappointed. Mirabelle then looked around, and spotted Faralda and Drevis. She approached them. "We're having a meeting on the hour; senior faculty. Gather who you come across," she said.
Drevis frowned, "Was it that bad?"
"Yes. And hush, please. The students can't know anything about this."
The meeting was held in the Arch-Mage's office. All seven of the senior wizards were gathered, and some were panting from having to climb up all those steps there in a hurry. When the small group had caught their breaths, the Arch-Mage stood in front of them and explained:
Grida Wet-Pommel. She was a nord student, eighteen years old. She hated the Empire, she worshipped Talos and she followed Ulfric. What's more, she made sure everyone in Winterhold knew about it. After Torygg was killed, she was seen crawling the pubs and taverns, shouting to drunk students and fishermen into supporting the uprising. Now why would the Imperials be concerned with her?
The faculty already knew Grida, of course. On campus, she engaged in debates about the White-Gold Concordat, setting up a table and everything on the side of the courtyard. Her 'debates' could be heard throughout noon, often more than one person yelling. She was eventually brought to Mirabelle's office to be told to shut up. It made good humour for a few days.
"The legion commander wants to take her," the Arch-Mage said, "They threatened to do it by force if we don't hand her over ourselves. I told him we couldn't without an official writ from the Jarl, which gives us until tomorrow morning to decide."
Sergius, the master Enchanter, gruffed and shook his head, "What's there to decide? Hand her over!" he said.
Faralda curled her lips in disgust, "Is it so easy?" she said, "She's our student."
"Endangering all our lives over a single racist rebel shouldn't be a difficult problem for you. Look at your ears," he said, "She's not our problem."
Faralda went quiet, and studied the other professors. Each began to speak up. They all wanted to hand her over too. Faralda was horrified. Curs. Cowards. She glared at each and every one of them.
The Arch-Mage put it to a redundant vote. Seven were for handing her over, two abstained, and one, Faralda, voted to keep her safe no matter the consequence. "A life," Faralda said, "You are all asking to ruin a life. This is weak, even for us. We are scholars, we must protect the freedom to speak our minds. We can shut the gates, block the bridge. How can anyone trust us anymore if we hand her over the most meager threat?"
The Arch-Mage was unmoved, "I'm sorry, but it's decided. Tomorrow morning, she'll be handed over to the guards. Nobody speak of this to anyone. Now leave."
The senior wizards left. Drevis gave Faralda a sorry glance, before heading out. Faralda wasn't happy with him either. He abstained, but that meant he was complicit. Faralda was unsure of what to do, then. The thought of doing nothing while an innocent girl was arrested over words, it tugged on her heart. She let out a shaken breath. She turned to go back to her bedroom and drink it off, but the Arch-Mage grabbed her arm and tugged her back softly. A gesture to wait. Faralda stuck around until Mirabelle shut the door behind the last person to leave, leaving the three of them alone.
The Arch-Mage went to his chair and sat with a tired sigh, "I'm surprised you care for the girl."
"This isn't a clean war," Faralda said, "Don't delude yourself into thinking that the girl will be kept fed and happy under house arrest. She'll be cold and starving in a cage, maybe beaten, maybe raped. This is civil war. These aren't the noble guard of the City. They're highland hires promised whatever the rebels own. That girl's suffering is on your conscience."
Mirabelle smirked, walking by. She stood behind the Arch-Mage, and rested her hands on the back of his chair. "Grida studies war-magic, does she not?"
"Yes, she studies war-magic. She's in my focus," Faralda said. "But it's not about partiality. It's principle. She shouldn't be arrested for what she believes in, and we shouldn't let her be."
The Arch-Mage waved a wise hand, "Ease yourself," he said, "We aren't handing her over to the Imperials."
Faralda stepped back, "What then?"
"Someone is going to smuggle her home."
Faralda was a little shocked by it. The way they looked at her too, they expected something from her. She crossed her arms, "Who?"
"I was going to let her go off by herself, however, someone with your talent would make a far better escort. I'm asking for a favour."
Faralda bit her lip. She wasn't a cruel woman, nor a cynical woman. She did want to help the girl. It would mean dropping everything she had for a few days, but Faralda was willing to do it. "Okay." She put her hands on her hips, "Can I take Drevis with me?"
"Take him," the Arch-Mage said, "Go at midnight. An atronach's watching her door, it'll let you see her. Take her through the midden and to the jetty. Go on from there. Good luck."
Faralda knew the way. She bowed to the Arch-Mage, and left.
All that she had to do now was convince Drevis to come with her. He was at his bedroom, marking student assignments at his desk. She marched in and shut the door behind her. She sat on his bed, and told him everything about what the Arch-Mage had said, and asked if he could help her.
"No," he said. "She's a Stormcloak. They've made life for me and every Dunmer I know miserable for many years. I agree with you, she shouldn't be given to the soldiers, but I'm not helping her. It's not our fight, Faralda."
Not a surprise. Faralda pouted, and weathered at him, and begged him, and appealed to his better nature. He shook his head, and huffed, and blabbered on about "Why help someone who wouldn't help me." and "would she do the same thing?" and Faralda would answer, "But she's a student, Drevis" and "You might change her mind."
By then, Drevis was hesitating. He was refusing in small shakes of the head, and batted eyes, not dissimilar from a toddler refusing to eat his peas. Faralda finally had enough and struck at his guts, "What if I get hurt, then, hm?" she said, "If the imperials find me, it's going to be a fight. I don't know any illusion magic to cover me, so I'm going to kill myself saving this girl."
Drevis blinked his eyes away, desperate and uncomfortable. Pain was in his eyes, then dread. He groaned, "Fine! I'll help. But you owe me a lot for this."
"I'll owe you more than a lot," she winked and blew him a kiss. He blushed purple. She chuckled, "It won't be long. We'll drop her off, and come back."
She laid on his bed, bouncing a ball on his wall. They talked out the route, and the plan. What to do if the imperials show up, and what to bring. They packed early for the trip, and when it struck midnight, they left to go grab Grida.
They went inside the student residence tower, and found a Frost atronach standing ominously over a door. Its head almost scratched the ceiling, and seemed to scare most of the students away from the hall. When the Frost Atronach spotted them, it stepped lazily aside, and let them through.
Faralda opened the door, and walked in. The dorm room was small, with a single bed and single closet.
Grida was nowhere to be found. Faralda opened her mouth, and her voice cracked, "It's empty."
Drevis peeked over her shoulder, "She can't have."
Faralda searched around the room. She heard wood creak in the closet. Faralda stepped forward and opened the closet door.
Grida was curled at the bottom underneath some robes. Her eyes were big and blue, and peered up at her scared. She was pale, shaking, "H-hey professor," she said, smiling nervously at both of them, "Funny seeing you here."
Faralda stepped back and widened the door open, "Get out."
Grida crawled out of the closet, "Wait. Wait!" She stumbled over onto her bed and sat, "Please don't let them take me. Please. I'm sorry. You're all right. I'll shut up."
"We aren't handing you over to the soldiers, on my soul," Faralda sat beside her, and patted Grida's knee, "We're taking you home. You live near Windhelm, correct?"
She nodded, "Yea, my farm. Are you two honest? Please."
"Yes," Faralda said, "I'm honest. Nobody knows about this, so we have to leave quietly."
"Who told you about the soldiers?" Drevis said.
"There's a damn atronach in front of my door. I can guess," Grida said, wiping her forehead of sweat, "And besides, they were arresting folk in Winterhold-- the cowards. They can't fight out in the mountains, so they come here to town."
"Don't think about that," Faralda said, "pack your things quickly."
"I'm already packed," she said, grabbing her bag from under the bed, "I was going to try and leave myself."
"Good, we'll talk on the road. Come on." Faralda smiled as soft as she could to reassure her. She then snapped at Drevis, "Follow at the back."
They took her down the midden, using magelight to find their way through. They crept their way down through the old ruins and caves under the college, deeper and deeper. The cave eventually led them outside to the bottom of the sea-cliffs, to a cold and icy beach. Ruins from the Great Collapse littered the sand. Clumps of carved stone, statues, rusted braziers.
The jetty was just in front of them. A shabby thing, made of strung-together planks. It served to dock the college's "research vessel", a rowboat. It was only ever used by researchers too stupid to water-walk. They all hopped in from the jetty. Faralda paddled out of the shallows with a compass glowing on her thigh. The waters were choppy and dark. The only reprieve were the twin moons, which let their light dance atop the waves.
Grida looked nervous, scanning around the water. "Is it safe to row in the dark?" she whispered, "If it's dangerous, I can hide in the midden."
Faralda grunted tugging the paddle, "We drank some nighteye, and you'll be much safer to hide in Windhelm. Trust us."
Grida nodded and hugged her knees.
They weaved their way east through the splatter of islands along the coast. Faralda made sure to keep close to shore, for the Sea of Ghosts was monstrous in the deep, but even sailing close to shore had its dangers: the glaciers. Their walls were monumentous, and calved often during the summer. They felt the water shake, and a sound like thunder pound the air. Faralda rowed deeper into the waters, working against numb arms until they were clear.
Drevis pulled out a blanket for himself, shivering, "Do you think we can open the lamp yet?"
"They're looking for spies on the water. Keep it off until the sanctum," Faralda said.
Grida was also cold, hugging herself. She dripped glances on Drevis and his blanket. Drevis felt her look. He patted a spot beside him on the bench, "Here," He widened the blanket open, "You can ask, you know."
She stepped over and shared the bench with him, "Thank you."
"You're barely welcome," he huffed, wrapping the blanket around her.
Faralda squinted at him, and shook her head, while Grida stayed quiet staring down at the floor.
Drevis sniffled and looked up at Faralda, "You know what they call my kind in Windhelm?" he said, "They call us Greyskins."
Faralda stopped rowing, "Do you know what I call you?"
"Pft. She needs to learn about this." He turned to Grida, "They force Dunmer into the slums of the city, where the sewage drains to. Nords would throw piss out the windows onto us from the Stone quarter."
"Drevis," Faralda said.
He ignored her, "Ulfric raises taxes in the quarter, imposes more fines because he knows we're too poor to keep to code. They're trying to kick us out, but where do we have left to go? Tell me."
"Enough!" Faralda said, "Leave her alone."
"Why should I? Otherwise, she'll never learn her lesson, she'll never learn what the Stormcloaks do to us."
"She can believe Mer should hang for all I care! It's sadistic. She's a a victim right now! Sob about the plight of your people after she's home, degenerate."
Drevis glared at her. He knew better than to argue rough with her on a boat. She was the type of person to argue until they both regretted it. "Just keep rowing," he said.
Faralda did, and with a sour mood. The air was heavy. Grida's eyes traveled around awkwardly, and finally, she cleared her throat. "I understand I'm not well liked by many people, but um, I don't hate elves-- Mer, I mean," she said.
"I didn't mean it that way," Faralda said.
"Yup." Grida hugged the blankets a little tighter and stayed quiet.
Around three in the morning, they beached the boat. All of them were shivering from the wind and wanted to warm up. The beach they found was covered in boulders. They walked their way through, splashing their boots on puddles of gravel. They could feel the sea fleas hop, making Faralda reel her hands up. Birds brooding on the rock called in warning around them, and flew away. Soon they reached drier land, filled with cracked rock. They climbed up on one ledge, and made camp against an overhang.
They lit a campfire using kindle and driftwood, and while it was still dangerous, numb fingers and shivering winds had convinced them otherwise. They roasted some nuts and bread on a pan, and warmed themselves with some tea. Drevis and Faralda were still silent to each other, speaking only ever to coordinate on the food. It was Grida who tried to ease the hostile air with very illuminating comments on the weather, such as "wow, it's cold", and "damn, it's dark."
Faralda finished her tea, and went to stand watch, leaving them back. She stumbled over some rocks, finding a spot that gave her good sight of both the land and sea. She grabbed a pebble and let it dance between her fingers. She was nervous. The soldiers will come to the college soon,. How would they react? The college provided a lot of service to the Empire, so there was leverage. The pleasure of helping was dulled by fear, and the fear brought thoughts of her family she was too tired to shoo away. At least Grida's family won't be shattered.
Faralda heard movement behind her and turned.
Grida had emerged. Her hands were out, trying to wade her way through the dark. "Professor?" she squinted.
Faralda waved, "I'm here."
Grida went to her. She sat on a rock beside Faralda. Her sleeves were pinched to cover her fingers, and she crossed her arms.
"You should sleep," Faralda said, "We still have a long way to go."
"I feel restless."
"Nervous?"
"And cold," Grida chuckled. She looked out to sea. The dark bodies of icebergs floated atop the waters.
"Drevis isn't bothering you, is he?" Faralda said.
Grida roused up, "Oh no. Besides the snoring, no. He apologized to me, actually, about the whole thing."
Faralda wasn't surprised. He was the type. "Good. Don't take it personally, Drevis has history."
"We all have history. I get it. They do treat the Dunmer poorly, and it's wrong, but the Dunmer also used to massacre us," Grida said. She fidgeted with her fingers beside her.
"But did Drevis do those things?"
"No, but--"
"You shouldn't conflate him and his people with the acts of someone they never met."
"I know. What I'm trying to say is, the real enemy is the empire."
"The real enemy is war, and you'd do best to stay out of it."
Grida could sense that something was pressing behind Faralda's words. Something desperate to make her listen. Grida nodded quickly; an act of nerve rather than agreement. She then shrugged, "I didn't come here to argue politics. Actually... I came here to thank you."
"Oh." Faralda blinked guilty, and eased herself. She smiled, tired, "That's kind of you."
"Yea..." Grida said. She watched around nervously to say something. "Look, I'm not that important. I understand that. Nothing much would change if I died. Thinking about what I'd done to bring this mess onto you, and the college. I want to apologize as well, for everything."
Faralda reached her hand out, and wrapped it around Grida's fingers. They were frigid. Faralda caressed it with her thumb, "We're both only people," she said. She held Grida's hand a bit longer, sharing her warmth. She let it go gently.
Grida leaned back over the rock. Her gaze travelled out to the dark expanse of the sea. Primordial waters lapped onto the gravel shore, and messy clouds concealed the swirling of the celestials above. Across that sea was the land of the Nedes, frozen and barren. "Do you hear it?" Grida said.
Faralda budged her ear to sea. She heard whispers; wind trickling along the rock, but ever so often, words said with them. Faralda smiled softly, "The sea-ghosts?"
"You know about them?" Grida said.
"Young lady, the sea's named after them. And I've lived here a while," Faralda said, "Yngol's barrow will be on the road."
"But you're an elf," she grinned toothy, "I'm just teasing. My mother has ancestry with Yngol, actually. Where'd you live before coming to Skyrim?"
They talked for a while, and when 'a while' stretched long enough, Grida yawned, and called it in. She returned to the campfire to sleep, leaving Faralda alone to ruminate and watch. Faralda didn't regret helping her one bit. She was a good girl, who needed a bit of guidance. Youth did its best in tossing guidance aside, but it didn't matter, she'll live as she wishes, that's enough.
She kept scouting, but something was wrong. Faralda saw it. A torch. Soldiers. There were five, maybe six in imperial uniform, further inland. They were looking at the light of the campfire, and walking in its direction, pointing and talking hushed to each other. They climbed carefully over the boulders.
Faralda snuck back to camp as fast as she could, finding Drevis and Grida sleeping beside each other, sharing blanket. She shook them, and they stirred up. "Stay quiet," Faralda said, "Imperial scouts, a hundred yards, they're heading our way."
"Now?" Drevis sniffled, and rubbed his eyes.
"They found us," Grida quickly got up to pack their things, "we need to get to the boats."
"Ugh, we won't make it." Drevis said, "Just throw the bedrolls on me. You two hide somewhere far. I'll talk to them."
Grida shook her head, "Are you sure?"
Drevis turned to look at Faralda, "Take her."
Faralda grabbed Grida's hand and tugged her off through the cobbles.
Faralda and Grida hid between a squeeze of rocks that let them watch Drevis. Grida was pale, and held a dagger by her hip, shaking. Faralda kept her hand out, ready to cast something just in case.
The scouting group approached closer and closer, until they came upon Drevis 'sleeping' in his bedroll. One of them nudged him with his foot, and Drevis woke up and got up to talk. The wind drowned their words, but from the body-language, Faralda could tell the soldiers weren't nice. She could hear faint laughter, and nudging. A soldier kept his hand on Drevis' shoulder while talking to him, while another inspected the bags.
Grida touched Faralda's waist, "Will they hurt him?"
"Shh." Faralda's heart pounded.
A bear roared near the group of soldiers, making everyone jump and go silent. The bear was behind the rocks, standing on its hind legs. It roared again, and Drevis and the soldiers screamed, finally.
Grida nudged Faralda, "Go. We have to help him."
"Shh." Faralda nudged her back, "Stay."
The bear charged, knocking Drevis down. It bit into Drevis' shoulder. It ripped off his arm, making Drevis shriek out horribly. The soldiers fled, climbing over the rocks and sprinting back inland. The bear ripped open Drevis' stomach. His entrails splattered out onto the ground. Drevis yelled, and groaned for help.
Grida whimpered, and tears fell, "By the gods," she said, her hand over her mouth.
Faralda eyed the group of soldiers, and when they were far enough, she emerged from their hiding spot, "Come on," Faralda said, "Don't be scared."
Grida struggled out, and followed her. Faralda and Grida approached the bear, finding it feasting on Drevis' leg. It swayed its head up to her, growling, blood and spit drooling from its maw. Grida took a step back, ready to run.
"You're traumatizing the poor girl," Faralda said to the bear.
The bear and gore exploded into red wisps, fading, and revealing Drevis laying just fine on the ground. He chuckled, "Sorry," he said, hopping up onto his feet.
Grida let out a sigh of relief, "By Ysmir! You frightened me half to death," she said, rushing up to him.
"Indeed. Terror is just one of many situations in which Illusion prevails over the more crude systems of magi-- Oh!"
Grida hugged him. "Thank you," she said, sniffling, and breaking the hug.
Drevis blushed, scratching the back of his neck. He was grinning till his cheeks were purple, "You're welcome!"
Faralda smiled and crouched to clean up camp, glancing at Drevis, "They didn't give you too much trouble, I hope?" she said.
"They thought I was a pilgrim," he walked over and helped her, "Wanted to shake some money off me."
"They'll be back soon to check your carcass. We should head off quickly."
They got the boat onto water, and made way east again. Drevis was the one to paddle. He talked to Grida in a much kinder tone. All after that hug, no doubt. Grida was interested in Illusion magic and its applications, and he was happy to oblige. Faralda in the meanwhile, finally took her break. She laid down at the bottom of the boat with her head on top of a sack. She eavesdropped, smiling as they spoke, and napped.
They made it to slaughterfish bay by the end of the day. Their fears of coming across more Imperial soldiers had eased, and they beached the boat. They walked with relaxed steps, chatting about stuff, while their eyes looked out across the farms.
Soon Grida was the one leading the way, looking around more, "My place is nearby," She said.
"Who should we expect?" Faralda said.
"My mom." She walked on with her thumbs tugging her backpack straps. She led them through some hamlets in the dark, until they arrived at a large and well-to-do farmhouse.
"We'll watch from here." Faralda said, stopping by the fence.
"Oh." Grida looked at them sadly, "I was hoping you guys could stay the evening. My family can keep a secret."
Faralda shook her head, "We can't take that risk. If the Empire learns we helped you, they'll come for us. It's best if nobody mentions anything at all. Tell them you got here yourself"
Grida understood. She hugged Faralda, thanking both of them profusely, "Thank you so much." She hugged Drevis then, "Thank you."
"Be smart," Drevis said, rubbing her back.
Grida broke the hug, and walked off back to her house. She climbed up the porch, and knocked on the door. While waiting, she gave them a final wave.
There was some rummaging. The door opened and there was a gasp, "Grida!" A woman said. The door swung wider, and the woman came out to grab Grida. She kissed her on the cheek, crying out. Grida hugged her, "Hey mom." Others inside were bunched to the door to greet her. Grida hugged and shook their hands while her mother chattered, "I was worried sick. We heard about Winterhold! I'm going to kill your father."
They disappeared inside, and shut the door. Faralda sighed, and turned to Drevis. Drevis had some tears wetting his face.
Faralda smirked, "Are you crying?"
He chuckled, wiping his cheeks. "It's a fine thing."
He was so sweet. Faralda smiled wider, "It is." She eyed the other farm homes around, "Now let's leave before we're lynched."
They headed back.
On the boat-ride home, Faralda and Drevis tried to talk about everything except their fight. Drevis talked breathlessly in between tugs of the paddle. He elaborated on his very sad childhood again: His mother moved to Windhelm for work, opening an alchemy shop. His father was a merchant who didn't stick around, leaving Drevis to fend for himself in the slums of Windhelm. It was a sad tale, and no doubt, one carefully planned to elicit as much guilt from Faralda as her little heart could produce. She wasn't stupid. But well, she also enjoyed feeling sorry for him, "Do you think of moving back to Morrowind?" she said, nibbling on a piece of horker jerky.
Drevis thought a while on it, then looked aside, he shook his head. "Instead of moving forward after the False Tribunal, the Houses decided to return to older masters. The Dunmer are doomed. There's no point in returning."
"That's bleak."
He shrugged, "It's the truth, but I'd be damned if an Altmer or a Nord says the same thing."
She chuckled, "Fair enough. I won't dare say anything bad about the Dunmer then." She looked aside at the water, "I should apologize really for yelling yesterday. Calling you a degenerate in front of the girl was excessive, in hindsight."
"You're forgiven, but I should be apologizing myself. Look, I just hate it when I see people fall for these sycophants. And I know I'm wrong when an Altmer is kinder to a human than I am."
"The apology was sufficient. All's forgiven."
"And she liked me more than you in the end, so it doesn't matter."
Faralda opened her mouth in offense, "No she didn't."
"I got two hugs, you got one. Objectively speaking, I'm the hero."
Faralda laughed, "That's hardly a fair measure."
"And frankly, I would've appreciated a hug from you too after getting mauled to death by a bear."
Faralda rolled her eyes, "Nice try."
"I can't ask for a hug?" He said, perking his eyebrow, "I remember specifically something about you owing me a lot."
Faralda was now the one to blush a little, letting her cheeks and ears go gold. She grinned, chewing on the jerky. "Sure…" She crawled over the boat's seats to him. He stopped rowing, setting the paddles down. He widened his arms, and she kissed him straight on the lips. He let out a grunt. She gave him a good snog, one to remember for years, bumping foreheads, sucking lips, wiping snot. She broke it. His head swayed around in a daze. "Want more?" she said.
Drevis and Faralda were able to make it to the college, safe and sound, and with high spirits.
The only reward they received was a private thanks from the Arch-Mage. The college had otherwise escaped reprisals. The imperials were annoyed to learn Grida had run away, but there were bigger concerns. Business could go on as usual, and the other teachers were happy to learn that Grida was gone, and that there was no trouble for it. The only big consequence of the trip was Drevis visiting Faralda's bedroom often, which made the rounds in faculty gossip.
Grida never returned to the college again. Faralda wondered what happened to her and whether she continued her studies elsewhere. Years passed, the Civil War ended, and Farlada found herself on a trip to Windhelm. She had enough free time to leave the city and look around for Grida's home in the surrounding farms.
She asked strangers for the Wet-Pommel residence and was able to find it by evening, matching it to memory. She went up the porch and knocked on the door, waiting. It crept open. Grida's mother appeared. Faralda took a step back, and explained who she is, and what had happened a few years ago.
Her mother gasped.
Her mother knew about Faralda and the "dark elf" that saved her daughter. Faralda grinned, and asked how Grida was doing. Her mother quieted and rubbed her hands. Grida was dead. She died fighting in the Battle for Whiterun, only nineteen. Faralda looked down. Of course. Her mother then asked if Faralda would be so kind as to accept dinner with her. Her house was quiet. Faralda obliged, stepping inside.
They spent a silent evening together eating by the hearth and talking of Grida. Faralda told her details of the rescue trip, and about how her daughter was remembered fondly at the college. It was solemn but not tedious, and for that evening, Faralda felt there was no difference between anyone in the world.
The end.