The Outsider of the Summerset Isles

Chapter 7

They traveled for more than seven days through Valenwood, passing Bosmeri villages and thick forests. Perhaps, Arquenn's Thalmor uniform and Nerien's armor and sword scared away all the bandits from their path as their journey went smoothly and soundly. On the tenth day of their way, they reached Silvenar which was an ethnic Bosmeri town of bizarre beauty — giant twisted trees intertwined with each other, amber bridges connected dining halls, private chambers and taverns with round doors—all were cavities in the trees. This town reminded Llanas of Sadrith Mora, but only a little, for Silvenar was colorful and welcoming, and he remembered his former home as a gorgeous in its way but very unwelcome and grim place. Many tree houses were spherical shaped—it seemed they grew that way; the same approach used Telvanni mages with one difference—they grew mushrooms.

Arquenn had left her companions in a tavern and had been gone to everybody's — even Nerien's—relief. The tavern was packed with rowdy Bosmer, and only empty stools were at the bar. The Wood Elves danced, sang and had fun casually talking to each other. No one seemed drunk. The barmen—black-bearded Wood Elf with sly brown eyes — offered them a meal and ale and then asked, squinting at Llanas, "What did bring here such an unusual company?"

"We are just passing by," smiled Nerien, trying his ale.

"Cyrodiil, huh?" the barmen nodded at their formidable weapons.

"Sort of," replied Nerien evasively. "The Aldmeri Dominion business, can't say any details."

"Gotcha," his face lightened and he poured them four more tankards of ale. "On the house. For the Dominion!"

Not all Wood Elves were glad to be the Aldmeri Dominion part, though, for their High Elven siblings didn't want to understand Bosmeri "green way" of living and tried to bring and integrate their own values into the society of Wood Elves.

Llanas made a gulp and spat it out at once.

"What is this?" he demanded, wiping his lips with the sleeve of his jacket. "It's disgusting!"

Everyone around him burst into laughter.

"Is it your first time when you're trying Bosmeri alcohol?" Nerien asked, still laughing. "You know Wood Elves hate to harm plants?"

A guess struck Llanas' mind and his face twisted in disgust. "Don't tell me they make their beer of insects..."

"Bugs are only small part of the recipe," proclaimed the barman who sounded somewhat offended. "Fresh meat is the main ingredient."

The Dark Elf began to feel sick even more after these words.

"Don't be a wimp, try it again!" Nerien pushed the tankard towards him. Under cheerful shouts of the crowd, Llanas made a second gulp that didn't seem as bad as the first one. Then he gulped the whole tankard at once and slammed it on the bar to the pleasure of the elves around.

For a while, Dessa watched grimly how two elves had her brother drink, too, and soon three of them drove away all the visitors of the tavern. She sighed, not wanting to argue with three drunk elves and got out of the tavern to a little terrace which overlooked all Silvenar below. She sat there peacefully, but her thoughts of the upcoming meeting were dark and anxious. If she only survived, she would leave her servitude at the Dominion and move to a place such as Silvenar — life in a tree didn't seem revolting to her anymore.

Her contemplation got interrupted by a squeak of the opening door and a dark lurching figure who almost fell down from the narrow terrace, but finally managed to sit next to her.

"I was too tough on you all these days, Dess," Llanas said quietly.

"I'm not gonna listen to your drunk apologies," Dessa started a movement to get away from him.