The Light and the Dark, v2

by Irek Unterge

Little Solara was discontent with what she had heard that noon. If the actions of the Divines were always good and the actions of the Daedra always wicked, then what was the point of calling them “Light” or “Dark”? The question had kept her tossing and turning all night. Finally, she resolved to get out of bed in search for an answer.

Grandfather was where he always was at night: fast asleep on his rocking-chair near the fireplace. The door made a creaking noise as it slammed shut, rousing the old man from his silent musings on dark deeds long past in the doing. Instead of surprise at her arrival he felt a peculiar sort of joy, as if he had been waiting his whole life for this moment.

“Well, come in.” he said. “Are you scared of me, my daughter?”

“Granther.” she said, a bit of tiredness in her voice. “are the Daedra really all evil, and are the Divines really all good?”

The old man turned around slowly. From his expression, Solara began to think that he was going to laugh. Not the mirthful roar of the town drunk or the mayor’s derisive sneer, but the soft laughter of a teacher – or even a father.

“If a wolf falls upon a man in the forest and kills him, do we call it evil?”

After thinking a bit, Solara’s eyes lit up. “No.”

“Why not? If a man were to do the same, then surely he would be called ‘evil’.”

“Because, Granther,” she said. “it’s in the wolf’s nature to kill people, while the man has a choice.”

Many men and women twice her age would have missed that answer. The old man smiled. She had more of I’shira in her than her blood after all.

“It’s the same with the gods, my child. They are only capable of doing what they were tasked to. They have no say in any of their deeds. Even Mehrunes Dagon is bound to this. It was given to the Prince of Destruction to destroy, and he could not conceive even the thought of acting otherwise.”

“That is the precious gift we mortals have, limited as our time is here on the Mundus. We can choose our actions. It is why the gods sometimes look down at us with envy. It is why they value those who worship them so highly, even though sometimes it may not seem so. For how can mere words express the love you feel for those who, through their own free will, choose to join you on the path you were fated to take?”

The young girl was completely lost. “But Granther,” she said again, “I don’t understand any of this.”

“Come closer, my child. There is a secret I want to tell you.”

She did, and the old man put his hand on her shoulder. From where she was, she could see that his smile had faded. In its place was a look of concern.

“Do you really think that anyone has all the answers? Everyone, from the lowliest farmer to the Emperor himself, is as lost as you are, even if they will not admit it. Even I, at the end of my life, do not see all that there is to see. Some of us may have more answers than others, but does the possession of a few facts make us any better than anyone else? We are only as good as the world lets us believe we are. Remember that next time a passing prince or foreign scholar looks at you with contempt, my child.”

Solara was still more than a little confused, but the old man’s words and the softness of his voice made her feel a sort of comfort. Tears were welling up in her eyes now. The old man smiled again and wiped them away, and kissed her nose goodnight as he always did.

“Now go to sleep. You have another day ahead of you tomorrow.”

The next morning the old man’s family found him on his rocking-chair, his eyes closed and his skin tinged with the unmistakable pallor of death. Curiously, he had an odd look of contentment on his face.