On Music in Tamriel: Orsimer

To papa, the greatest smallest musician to ever live, who so wanted to hear every song there was.

 

I have bestowed upon myself the honourable mission of collecting information on the various ways of making music, its function, and its importance found in the many different cultures found around Tamriel. I do this for two reasons. First, for myself, to learn more about creating music from people in faraway lands and become the greatest troubadour(or bard, if you have to) to have ever lived. And second, for the noble effort of showing you, the reader, why I think music is the single most important component of society and by extension humanity(and merity, or whatever you call it. I'm not excluding mer, is what I’m saying).

I am from Evermore, a grand city on the eastern edges of great High Rock. Music here has always been prominent, played in taverns and inns. I still don’t know the difference but there must be one. Anyways, music has, admittedly, been stale here. People don’t invent, they copy. Bards here sing of great knights and pretty ladies and use the same minor chords when the princess is captured and the same major chords when the hero defeats the villain. I used to do the same, but now I do not. I created my own style, which I wish to develop on my travels, and have become quite famous in the city. Some people are so jealous that they accuse me of working with the Thieves’ Guild, claiming I use my talent to distract my patrons while they are being robbed. This is NOT a reason for my departure, because it is simply not true.

I decided to go visit Orc strongholds, who will have the honour of being the first foreign culture I study. I chose to study the barbaric Orcs because High Rock is so boring , and NOT because I am being falsely accused. I just choose big, tall scary Orcs over boredom, like any man would, that’s the only reason.

Luckily, I needed not travel far to visit such a stronghold. Four days of riding was all it took for me to find Bur Khasdal, one of the many orcish settlements found in south-eastern High Rock. I had seen two of these before finally finding Bur Khasdal, but at one the guards threatened to kill me and at the other an imperial officer was asking around, searching for some handsome criminal. I had to avoid the officer because he would influence the orcish culture, and I needed it in its purest form.

 

At Bur Khasdal I was received quite nicely, especially considering the general isolationism the Orcs practice. When I asked if I could stay and play, the guard beckoned me in. What I noticed first were the three distinct moon-shaped buildings around a muddy clearing where two warriors were beating each other up. The architecture was simple, yet quite ingenious. Rain could not enter through the roof, yet smoke easily found its way out. I vocalized my admiring sentiment, but the only response I got was a grumble.

Evening was falling, and I was led to a longhall in which, I presumed, the chieftain resided. Naturally, I was right. Around a campfire in the middle of the building, which was divided into three rooms, sat what seemed to be most of the tribe. There were two orcs banging on drums rhythmically, but other than that, music was absent. I was welcomed into the circle. Some greeted me with grumbles, others said ‘hello’ like a civilized man. I have to admit, I was quite intimidated. Most of these men and women where twice my size, and ugly too. Although, saying an orc is ugly is like saying shit isn’t particularly tasty; you can’t say it’s not true, but you know it’s not the whole truth either.

But, they allowed me into their stronghold, and I appreciated that, because I know how isolated most Orcish tribes are. And so I decided to reward them, after introducing me and bowing to the chieftain, a scarred green fellow who looked like he could crush my lute in between his thumb and forefinger. Or my head, for that matter.

And so I produced my lute, and began singing. They all seemed quite surprised by it. I sang of great orc heroes of yore, and then chanced a sad love song. Some snickered, some grumbled, but I swear I saw a tear in the man next to me. After some judging looks from his fellow tribesmen, he claimed to need to use the privy. A perfect display of orcish culture; weakness, as most tribal orcs would call crying(which is of the highest stupidity), is not tolerated.

And I soon learned it was the same with music.

They began speaking through my songs, and I felt the need to improvise to get their attention. I told the two drummers to drum furiously, and by the Nine they listened graciously. I began playing a simple rhythm, but refrained from singing. Orcs are a people of action, I realized, not of dreaming of past heroes’ deeds or sad love affairs. What do orcs do rather, I asked myself, talk or fight?

The answer was an obvious one, even to me, a man unschooled in the ways of the Code which had spawned this peculiar culture I found myself in. Orcs would prefer dancing over singing, the physical over the vocal, and so I gave them a rhythm to dance to.

And by the Nine, they danced. I even saw smiles, though some seemed embarrassed for the outsider that was me. So, I joined in, trying to assimilate into the group. It surprised me how good these ‘barbarians’ could dance, and I hypothesize that the cause of this lies in their natural aptitude for combat and physical fitness.

I realised I was witnessing an Orcish tribe at their most vulnerable. A side most people never got to see. I bow to the Divines for allowing me that night, and a true understanding of the Orsimer. Fun is allowed, as long as it is simple and private, just like Orc culture.

 

Loreon Frosien, 3E 287