A Meeting In The Forest

Selvia Brolus

Praefect, Second Legion of the Empire of Tiber Septim 2E 895

It has been four weeks since I left Arenthia. My orders were clear. I was to travel south into the deep forests of Valenwood and contact the tribes who had been attacking Imperial supply trains. A meeting of the leaders of the two tribes had been called and I would represent the Empire. By the order of Legate Casta, I have recorded my account of the meeting.

My guide, Thalion, and I arrived at the agreed site early in the morning. After the endless sea of forest, the sight of this clearing was a welcome and beautiful scene. Though it seemed but a simple place, it gave off an aura of quiet respect.

“This place seems… old,” I said, admiring the intricately carved stone in the center.

“It is old, very old indeed,” replied Thalion.

“And what is the name of this ancient place?” I asked.

“It has no name. We stand in one the many sacred groves of Y’ffre, which are scattered throughout the Valenwood. The ancestors of my people have been gathering in these groves for thousands of years. All business of the Bosmer should be done under Y’ffre’s watchful eye.”

The envoys of the two tribes arrived near midday. They said nothing. Each arrived with a group of around 20 elves. Most of them came armed with bow and sword and outfitted in elaborate leather armor; soldiers I assumed. They stood opposite each other on the edges of the clearing. Thalion and I watched from the side. Somewhere, I couldn’t see where, a drum began to beat. A deep, hallowing sound. Five beats were all that sounded. On the last beat all went quiet. An elderly she-elf and a younger male elf stepped forward; one from each tribe. The woman walked to the stone and pulled out a knife of bone and made I cut on her hand. Reaching forward, she smeared her blood on top of the stone.

“I am Cyldra, treethane of the Fernshade. We hail from the Broken Hills of the East. In our lands do the trees grow tallest and the roots run deepest. We have guarded the eastern reaches of the blessed Forest for a thousand years, and will continue to do so long into the future. In our lands does the forest’s true beauty show and Y’ffre’s dream live on the strongest.” With that she sheathed her dagger and knelt, head down, in front of the stone.

The other elf walked forward. In a similar fashion, he sliced his hand a spread his blood on the stone.

“I am Godros, treethane of the Oakthorn. Our lands lie beneath the headwaters of the holy Strid River. Our waters are the clearest, our lands the most bountiful, and our people’s hearts the most pure. No foe has yet entered our land and left with their life. In our lands does the forest’s true beauty show and Y’ffre’s dream live on the strongest.” He too sheathed his dagger, knelt before the stone and bowed his head.

Five more beats of the drum sounded. Each treethane stood and stared at each other, with a look of utmost ferocity upon their faces. Slowly, the looks faded a smiles came. They embraced as old friends.

“Finally,” said the elderly female, “we can begin the business at hand.”

This is part 1. Hopefully I'll get around to part 2 soon.