Corpus Tamrielicum - The Imperial Library

264 2. THE ELDER SCROLLS CHAPTER 2: DAGGERFALL
[34] The Light and The Dark
The Light and The Dark
by Irek Unterge
"Yes, children, it is no accident that this land of Tamriel has been called 'The Arena'." The old
man altered his position on the large rock that bore his weight, and straightened his long gray
robe. Rheumy eyes lost their focus as they gazed out over the sun-warmed valley in the
mountains of High Rock. For a moment he saw a vision of ancient horrors instead of the fresh
greenery of spring. A chill washed over his aged bones.
"Is this a suitable topic for the young and innocent?" he asked himself. The young must be
taught, but must they learn of such things now, when they should be playing in the sunlight?
This is a tale for the dreary winter, with the wind howling outside a walled town and the doors
and windows closed and bolted against the blast and cold and -- other things.
He glanced with affection at his two grandchildren: the little towheaded boy with a hint of
mischief dancing in his eyes even on those rare occasions when sitting quietly, and his older
sister. A serene lass, the old man thought. Her hair like a dark flame and her slightly pointed
ears were the only obvious signs of elven blood. So like her grandmother, the old man
thought. The past is past, and I'shira had brought him so much peace and happiness after a
lifetime of battle. He forced his thoughts back to the present.
"Sorry, children. I was remembering things. Old people do that, you know."
"Are you going to tell us the story of Jagar Tharn and the Emperor and the Eternal
Champion?" His grandson asked. "That's my favorite!"
"Not exactly, son. They were a part of it, in a way. As are I'ric and Moraelyn and Edward and
Reymon and many others. Even the gods play a part. This is a far older story, and even the
priests won't tell it my way. They have their own interpretations, and their fears as well. I'm
too old and have seen too much to have any fear left, except that our people will forget. And
forgetting is dangerous. So I, and a few others, carry this tale and try to spread it among the
younger generations. You aren't really old enough to understand it all, but I can feel that my
end is not far off. I must ask you to remember anyway. In a few years, perhaps, if I still live,
we can discuss it again. If not, well, you must seek out others who know, and compare notes."
"You talk as if you are going to die, Granther," his granddaughter spoke up. "That can't
happen. You will live forever!"
Chuckling, "I'm afraid not, dear. But I have a little while left, enough for the story".
The children settled back against the bole of a large oak, knowing that the old man could not
be hurried. Leaning forward, he began:
"Long, long ago, before there were any people at all; even before the gods, Tamriel was
chosen as a battleground by two -- things. It is difficult to find words that fit them well. I call