Dragonborn Interview: Aedmar

'Are you sure this will work?' I ask, fingering the rattling pill bottles through the fabric of my jacket. On my way to cross the boundary between our realm and Tamriel, I grabbed everything I could find in the cabinets and closets around my apartment, from aspirin to heartburn remedies and those mentol-scented candy-like thingies you have to keep in your mouth if you have a sore throat.

My companion, a lanky blonde elven teenager with pale, greyish skin and amethyst eyes, whirls around to face me and responds with a cheerful grin,

'Of course I'm sure! When he sees these weird alchemy reagents of yours, he will want to study them - and when he gets all grabby-handed, you'll be like, "Naw-uh! You have to answer my questions first"...'

He falls silent for a moment, mulling over some thought that has just occurred to him and chewing loudly at the tropical fruit gum I have been generously supplying him with throughout our entire journey between universes - and then adds,

'Course, he might want to zap you with a lightning spell - but I will protect you, so no worries'.

'Well, that is reassuring,' I mutter gloomily under my breath, hunching my shoulders forward.

The youngster blows and enormous faded-yellow gum bubble, which almost plasters itself against my face.

'Reassurance is my middle name. Savos Reassurance Maryon, of House Telvanni, at your service, muthsera!'

During this mockingly pompous greeting, he tries his best to make his voice sound low and husky like a grown-up's, and, despite my nervousness at the prospect of meeting my latest interviewee, I can't help but smile. He notices that and, with a mischievous snicker, gives me a bow and strokes an imaginary beard.

In the meanwhile, we keep climbing up the endless winding staircase leading to the top of the giant mushroom tower. The boy leaps ahead of me with practiced ease and grace, but I inevitably end up falling behind, panting and grabbing at the walls for support. The surface is warm, soft, and porous like a sponge; at one point, when I linger a little to rest my throbbing legs, I can swear I feel it rise and fall underneath my clammy palm, as though the mushroom is breathing.

The air around us is dense and tepid, and its smell brings back childhood memories of walking through a forest right after a summer rain, and fingering through the moist, soft threads of moss in search of glistening, fresh boletes for seasoning the potato stew. When we reach the very top, however, the wave of warm woodland scent falls back, and a new smell comes streaming in, together with a torrent of crisp, cold blue light. The air now has a harp metallic tinge, with pungent undertones of smoke and something that vaguely resembles acrylic paint (though I am pretty sure there is no such thing in this realm).

The boy and I cross the threshold of a spacious laboratory, which flooded by the even blue glow of the several orbs of mage light that bob up and down underneath the ceiling. The walls are lined with shelves upon shelves of bizarre ingredients and potion phials of every shape and size - and at the furthest end, I can see a tall figure striding back and forth, outlined in a stark black silhouette against the magical fumes that snake their way out of the bottles and beakers on the enormous experiment table.

I let out a little gulp, feeling my heart curl up somewhere in the pit of my stomach. So, there he is. The Dragonborn.

Casually spitting out his gum, the youngster thrusts his thumbs under the belt of his dark-blue robes, and calls out,

'Papa! There's someone to see you!'

The figure freezes, startled - and then walks over to where the two of us are standing. As soon as the Dragonborn gets close enough for me to discern his features, I straighten up till I can hear my spine cracking, suck in my stomach and press my legs together, as though I were a soldier reporting to a superior officer. I had imagined him to be intimidating - but still, nothing could have prepared me for actually looking him in the face, for studying those two contemptuously narrowed eyes (one jade-green, another milky-white), those deep, stern lines in the corners of his mouth and across his forehead, that sharp hook of a nose...

While I stand around and gape, the silver-haired Atlmer pellets his son with abrupt, demanding questions,

'Who is this human, Savos? Why did you drag her in here, when I asked not to be disturbed? And what are you doing in Tel Mithryn anyway? Shouldn't you be back on mainland with your mother and sister?'

Savos brushes him off, with a cheeky air of the favoured child who can get away with just about anything,

'Oh, Mama is doing just fine without me! You know she and Uncle Onmund are absolute bosses at these "What to do if your child is a mage" public lectures! And Melian always has a time of her life dancing around in a pretty dress while all those Nord women go "Awww, what a cute little elfling!" You didn't expect me to put on a dress and look cute, did you? I came up with something much more interesting!'

And, just as he has planned, Savos proceeds to coax his icy, uncooperative father into being interviewed by my nosy little self. Thoroughly absorbed by watching the snarl that twists the Dragonborn's lips at the mention of talking about his personal life (the snarl that, incidentally, I find perfectly gorgeous), I barely remember to dive into my pocket and produce the main ace up my sleeve: the pills from my world.

Suspicious at first, the Altmer eventually gives in to curiosity and begins to probe the products of unfamiliar sorcery with his delicate, thin hands; after fingering them for a while, he lifts the pills to his sighted eye, scanning every inch of the grainy white surface. With a small, excited flutter inside my chest, I notice a spark of eager interest light up in the cold emerald depths, as he moves the pills over from his eye to the tip of his crooked nose.

'And you say these little... pebbles are used in your realm to treat maladies?' he asks, taking a few swift, cautious sniffs at the handful of aspirin. 'How uncanny... I absolutely must study these!'

'Remember the deal, Papa!' Savos peeps from the background. 'You get to boil the pebbles and grind them in your mortar and blow them up only if you agree to answer her questions!'

'Hrmph!' the Altmer snorts in resignation, setting down the pills and flicking his hand casually through the air, his fingers alight with telekinetic magic. 'Fine!'

The twisting, hissing threads of greenish light, which have burst out from underneath the tips of his nails, pull two chairs towards us, one for me, and one for the Dragonborn. He settles opposite me, steepling his fingers in front of his face, and gives me a curt nod, signifying that we can begin. After that, he motions Savos to leave us - but the boy ignores him and plops down unceremoniously on the floor next to my seat.

Clearing my throat, I spread out my notes over my knees - and, out of the corner of my eye, catch a glimpse of Savos giggling into his fist.

'I added some questions,' he mouths. 'For extra fun!'

I open my mouth, frog-like, intending to chastise the prankster for meddling with my script - but then decided not to: from what I gather, the Dragonborn is not known for his patience, so I had better get started without any further distractions.

1. What's your name?

Aedmar. But I would much appreciate it if you addressed me as 'Master Aedmar'.

(Savos snorts and rolls up his eyes at this, but his father does not even twitch an eyebrow, remaining seated in front of me like a stiff, dignified statue. Remembering the youngster's words about lightning zaps, I prefer to grant the Altmer's request)

2. Of course, Master Aedmar. Uhm, next question... About how old are you?

(Aedmar's... That is, Master Aedmar's lips form a vague, fleeting semblance of a smirk, and then freeze again in a thin pursed line)

I am a mer. I do not concern myself with such trifles as age. I was born in the Third Era, several decades before the Oblivion crisis. Do the calculations yourself, if you will. I could not care less.

(Savos gives his father a meaningful stare; the older elf scoffs at him, but the lad does not look away. Finally, Aedmar gives in and makes a reluctant addition to his reply)

Yes, yes, I have not been exactly... truthful. There was a rather troubled period in my life, starting from the time when I met my wife and almost all through my son's infancy, when I was very self-conscious about my age. I married a woman almost two centuries my junior, which is quite a gap even by meric standards, and I was... worried. About a lot of things. About people ridiculing us, about her ceasing to love me, about us being unable to have children... But, in the end, I was proved wrong on all accounts. Never in my life was I so pleased to be mistaken.

3. Thank you for your candour, Master Aedmar! Would you mind telling me what food tempts you?

What kind of question is that? Why would I be tempted by food? When a warrior is wounded, you do not say that he is tempted by a healing potion, do you? This potion is a necessity that ensures his survival; the same is true of food. It ensures our survival by quenching our hunger. Just as in the case of any other consumable substance, its formula may be broken down into basic components, which...

('He loves pie,' Savos cuts in. Aedmar glares at the cheeky lad, clearly appalled by such an outrageous insinuation... but eventually sighs and turns back to me, his son watching him smugly as he makes his confession)

Yes, I... I might have a weakness for pie. Especially with a fruit or berry filling. And a smattering of ice cream on top... And...

(Caught unawares by a tiny trickle of drool in the corner of his mouth, Aedmar stiffens and commands me dryly to ask the next question).

4. Did you go to school?

I attended a prestigious Altmeri college during the years of my adolescence. My parents were making a huge fuss of it back then, but looking back, I have to wonder if that rigorous study of lore and etiquette did more harm than good. When I graduated, my head was overflowing with long lists of kings and wars and outlines of dinner tables with a ranked seat for every guest, but there had been so little in that college that touched my heart. I witnessed the same approach years later, when I had to teach young Thalmor recruits. Suffocating discipline, dusty tomes, endless litanies of rules... Those unfortunate little boys were force-fed with knowledge like geese that are bred for that Breton dish, foie-gras - and their imagination was not involved in the learning process. This attitude towards education if fundamentally wrong, in my opinion, as imagination is an essential part of magic. You cannot master complex spells, let alone create new ones, if that part of your mind is stunted.

It is wonderful that you believe so, Master Aedmar, even after all those years of Altmer education!

Ah, I have my grandfather thank for that. He home-schooled me before I went to college, since my father and mother were too busy using their wealth and power to acquire even more wealth and power. He taught me to craft things with my hands - to give substance to the images inside my mind. I strive to become as good a mentor to my children as he was to me... Now, what was your next question?

(Throughout our discussion of drawbacks of Altmeri education, Savos has been sitting with his head drooping down, pretending to have been lulled to sleep by all that boring talk - but at the sound of these words, he seems to instantly spring alive. And I soon realize why: the next question has been scribbled on my pad in narrow, wire-like writing that is not my own. This is obviously one of the 'extra fun' points that he added to my interview; it seems interesting enough, though, so I proceed).

5. What animal are you or most related to you?

Hmmm, now that is something I never thought of before. Some time after I met Brelyna, my future wife, I was turned into a number of animals by her during a failed experiment... I cannot say it was overly enjoyable, but in hindsight, that a rather... educational experience. I think out of all the three beasts I was transformed into, I found it the most interesting to be a hound, in particular due to the enhanced sense of hearing and smell that is typical of these creatures. Having a mouthful of sharp fangs is also an asset, of course.

(The next question is also surrounded by Savos' scribbles, which have turned it into quite a tirade - I have highlighted Savos’ additions in italics)

6. Are you straight, gay, or what? I mean, we all hear stories about how he and Mama were madly in love - but I never see him show it! Not once! So what's up?

Oh my, Master Aedmar (I say in agitation, looking from father to son and then back again). Looks like Savos here is questioning your, uhm, ability to express tender feelings towards women. Or... Or anyone.

(Aedmar looks at his son intently and then heaves a deep sigh, his angular features softening somewhat).

If you had a question like that, child, you should have talked to me in private, rather than drag a stranger into this! But now that this matter has been brought up, I might as well explain it to you - both of you.

Throughout my life, I have only been attracted to women, experiencing the strongest feelings towards three: my first wife Lorelyn, who died under most tragic circumstances; a young Bosmer named Melian, who took care of me in my... infirmity...

(Savos shifts in excitement, nudging me and whispering dramatically, 'He was blind for, like a hundred years! But he was still totally badass! Mama says that...' I try my best to shush him, however, for Aedmar is clearly shifting into a more mellow, meditative mood, which it would be a pity to miss)

Melian... She is also dead, and I have kept her memory alive by naming my daughter after her. And, of course, there was my darling Brelyna.

I have also had a few very close male friends, like the late Archmage Aren; but I never felt a desire to become more than just that.

And yes, I am aware of the disheartening fact that even towards these close people, I can seem aloof and uncaring. And I apologize to you for this, Savos... This is simply the way I am. After I lost Lorelyn, and then Melian, I grew terrified of falling in love again... And after Savos and I lost five of our dearest friends, I grew terrified of as much as becoming close with someone - anyone. Regardless of gender. For decades, I tried my utmost to fight back any tender feelings, to conceal what was really going on inside my heart. Brelyna has been helping me fight this accursed habit, but I am afraid it is too deeply ingrained into my very being.

But I can assure you, Savos - and you, human, even though frankly, your opinion is of little value to me - that I do love your mother, and all the stories Onmund and J'Zargo have been telling are true. Even though it is none of their damn business. Perhaps an educational lightning blast is called for?

(Savos grins broadly at his father's last remark, his eyes vanishing in crescent-like folds of skin. He keeps them squinted like this for as long as he can - perhaps to hide the tears that dimmed his gaze when his father was recounting his past losses. After fawning over the two of them for a little while, I get back to the interview).

7. Have you hurt anyone in any way?

(Aedmar frowns)

These questions do get personal, do they not? Yes, as I just said, my unfortunate tendency to conceal my feelings has hurt many of the people I care about. But on the other hand...

(His only eye glints maliciously)

There are people who are just begging to be hurt, in many different ways. People who think they can prey on the weak and get away with it. People who think they are entitled to meddle with the laws of nature. People who take delight in chaos and destruction. If they ever make the mistake of crossing my path, I give them my full and undivided attention.

(Savos shoves his elbow through the air, cheering silently for his father and his decisive methods of dealing with his enemies)

8. Have you killed anyone before? (Preferably human)

(Aedmar flinches in slight disgust)

Preferably human? Oh, some of my former Thalmor colleagues would have loved that wording... But anyway, I am not certain this is a fitting matter to discuss in front of a child...

('Pfff, child!' Savos scoffs, sticking his tongue out. 'I am a battlemage in training! And I've seen you fight! Come on, Papa, let her know how awesome you are!'.

After this little pep talk, the grown elf shakes his head slowly, and concedes to go on speaking)

Yes, I cannot deny that I have... disposed of a fair share of adversaries. A human soldier said to me once that you don't have to hate a man to kill him - and I was greatly moved by the bitter wisdom of these words. This kind of killing is one of the reasons that made me disillusioned in the cause of the Thalmor... But killing my personal enemies, on the other hand - that is an entirely different matter.

('Tell her about Cidhna Mine, Papa!' Savos urges, his eyes lighting up. Aedmar smirks and leans back, preparing for a long narrative).

My boy is right. The story of Cidhna Mine, which he is never tired of hearing over and over again, culminates in one of the most satisfying... life-shortenings that I ever made.

You see, at one time during my sojourn in Skyrim, I found myself... owing a debt to an old apothecary named Bothela, the Stars keep her soul. It was such a pity that her life was so fleeting, like that of most humans. She was in her seventies when I met her, and she passed away not too long ago, at the embarrassingly young age of eighty-nine.

(I have not even realized when or how it happened - but it suddenly dawns on me that the Altmer's gold-skinned face is now touched by faint colour: it is almost as if he is beginning to enjoy this)

Oh yes, she was quite a character. A Reachwoman, with her face crisscrossed by most intricate tattoos; always wearing the same reagent-splattered black robe... Not afraid of speaking her mind, to people high and low in rank, and possessing an immense knowledge of alchemy - a most impressive achievement, given how few decades she had at her disposal to master the craft.

She and her apprentice found me at the Markarth temple and nursed me back to health after I was, uh, poisoned by a foul Daedra - and as a way of expressing my gratitude, I offered my help in investigating the strange killings that seemed to involve her kin's most radical freedom fighters, the Forsworn. I ended up uncovering a most distasteful conspiracy, orchestrated by a powerful local Nord clan, the Silver-Bloods, who manipulated those blind, foolish young Reachmen into thinking they were serving their ancestral homeland - while in reality, they were merely a weapon in the hands of their Nord overlords, fulfilling no noble goal other than disposing of the Silver-Bloods' enemies.

When, figuratively speaking, I turned over the stone and let the crawling creatures see the light of day, the Silver-Bloods had me arrested and thrown into their notorious, supposedly escape-proof silver mine. While inside, I was supposed to crack silver lodes open till my hands began to bleed - and most horribly of all, the only food I received was a foul-smelling, gooey porridge that was laced with poison, stunting my magicka.

It was quite ingenious, really. Most natives of the Reach, who made up the greater share of Cidhna Mine's unfortunate inmates, have at least some magical talent - and while you can confiscate a prisoner's weapons and lockpicks, you cannot take away his magic. So the captives, myself included, were given a rather humiliating choice: either completely give up your ability to cast spells for the sake of a few spoonfuls of gruel, or starve so badly that you will likely be too weak to wield magic anyway. Quite naturally, I chose the latter.

('Mama says that when he was rescued, his arms were this thin!' Savos exclaims, sticking out his index finger. 'Just like in those books about prisoners!')

Well, it certainly was no book to me. It was, unfortunately, very, very real. But just at that time, unbeknownst to me, the good old J'Zargo, perhaps feeling obliged to help me after a certain... incident with faulty flame cloak scrolls, had launched a bit of a rescue mission out of Winterhold. Soon enough, he and two other apprentices - my sweet Brelyna being one of them - were contacted and offered aid by a Thalmor agent, sent by a former student of mine, who, at the time, was stationed in Markarth as a Justiciar Commander.

We share common history... I suppose you could even count him as one of my friends. And he certainly did his utmost to, uh, extract me from that vile prison, even though the official terms of his presence in Markarth prevented him from being involved.

('The rescue was sooo epic!' Savos sings. 'Come on, tell her!'
But Aedmar only smiles in reply - or rather, lets one corner of his mouth move a little way upwards)

I am afraid we do not have time for this, child. I have wandered too far off-topic as it is. The purpose of that prolonged narrative was to say this: after all that I had to endure, I was reunited with my young friends, and, having been healed... somewhat... I got swept off in the raging tide of mutinous prisoners, down a secret tunnel, through a crumbling, spider-infested Dwemer ruin, and towards the beckoning breath of fresh air.

(He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, his eyelids quivering; his son peers into his face, awaiting the climax of the story like a gift on Christmas - or, in Tamrielic terms, New Life's morning)

And when I staggered out into bright daylight, I found myself standing face to face with Thonar Silver-Blood. The cunning, manipulative human who represented all that was wrong with that miserable city. The mastermind behind the Forsworn conspiracy. The insolent wretch who dared to slap me - me! - in irons and drag me through the ordeal of forced labour, in the sweltering darkness, with no place to rest, no proper food, and no bathing!

('I dunno, I don't think I'd mind no bathing,' Savos remarks thoughtfully)

I was still weak, very weak - but the poison had released its hold of me, and I was able to charge up a nice, hot, sizzling fire bolt, and slam it straight into that hateful, smug face. Oh gods, it was immeasurably satisfying... Even though I fainted afterwards.

(He opens his eyes and stares straight at me)

I would have gladly described all the stages of skin melting and peeling off Thonar's face, but I do not think Brelyna would appreciate me letting Savos listen to this. Shall we proceed?

9. Yes, I think so (I say, involuntarily fingering my own face). What class are you? (Medium, low, high)

High class. I was born into a wealthy and respected family in Alinor and was bred accordingly - and while I can, and have been known to, lead a rather austere lifestyle, there are a few things I cannot do without. Peaceful meditation, which cannot really be achieved if you have to worry about debt collectors at your door; abundance of materials for my crafting and experiments, all within easy reach - preferably complete with an assistant to fetch them for me; clean linen; being surrounded by people who can tell a pigsty from a respectable mer's dwelling... And, of course, bathing. Yes, Savos, bathing too.

10. Strengths? (Speed, strength, etc.)

(He casually lights up a tiny flicker of flame in his palm, and juggles it through the air, letting it twist itself round his fingers, shoot upwards like a miniature firecracker, and then slither down again, tracing the outline of his fingers like a brush dipped in golden paint)

I would say, my aptitude for magic, of course. I have mastered all the main offensive and defensive schools - but what has always made me a special asset in every magical community is my affinity towards alchemy. At the time of my youth, in the Third Era, it was considered a school of magic, and was taught by the Guild and the Arcane University alongside the rest of the subjects. And I still believe that alchemy is just as viable a branch of arcane lore as all these flashy fire and lightning displays, like the one I am entertaining you with now. I am doing all in my power to increase its prestige - to show young mages that it can be just as exciting as tossing ice shards all over the place.

(With that, he blows out his little flame and waits for me to continue)

11.Any family?

Most of my relatives are dead. My grandmother, my grandfather, my father’s brother - Uncle Sinderion... My parents, too, I presume - though I completely lost touch with them around the time I was discharged from the Thalmor because of my, uh, war wounds; and I cannot say we have ever been particularly close, even when I was a child.

I have my own family now... which is far bigger than I could ever imagine, for apart from Brelyna and the children, there are the mages of Winterhold College, and members of House Telvanni, and all those oddly friendly people whose fates have grown closely intertwined with mine... It is a bit overwhelming at times, but I am slowly getting used to it.

12. What're your hobbies?

I believe I mentioned how my grandfather, Curuthir, taught me the basics of craftsmanship? He was immensely interested in all types of crafting, from tailoring to woodworking - but I myself have formed a special affinity towards making jewellery. It is a very precise art, and demands a great deal of patience and an endless sequence of meditatively monotonous movements... This repetitiveness, this focus on the tiniest details - for me, it is both invigorating and relaxing at the same time. And, of course, the end result is something fragile and intricately beautiful, just like this mortal plane we are all stuck on.

(He smiles briefly - a wry, shadow-like smile of self-irony)

Of course, it took me a while to get back on track after that... unfortunate period of my life when I had to live in complete blackness. Thanks to the efforts of my dear friend Savos Aren, I regained my eyesight - but focusing just one eye instead of two is harder than one might think. For a time, I would reach out for something - a tool, a scrap of raw material, a glass of water - and would end up groping through empty space, because whatever I was grasping at was actually a fraction of an inch to the side of the place where I thought it was.

(I nod somberly to show that I understand - in fact, one of my own relatives was going through the same trouble while recovering from surgery... But that is neither here nor there. Following my script, I proceed to the next question... random as it may seem)

13. Got a crush?

(He raises an eyebrow)

I believe I have already talked about these things earlier. Regardless of how skeptical my son may be on the matter, I did have a crush on my wife... And I still do, more than ever, even though I do not swoon or serenade. Uhm... I tried to once, actually. Serenade, I mean. But I am not the best singer. Stop giggling, Savos - or I will summon a Dremora to pull you out of here by your ear!

(The next question, in turn, seems rather redundant, but rules are rules)

14. Thought about marriage or kids?

(Just as I suspected he would, Aedmar rolls up his eyes)

I think it should have become quite clear to you now that I am married. Brelyna and I have two children - this cheeky little elfling right here, and the sweet, precious Melian. I also took in two human orphans, Blaise and Sissel. They are both about ten years older than Savos, and have already started on life paths of their own - but I am always there for them should they ever need anything. They brought light into my life when... Brelyna and I were drawn apart, and I was beginning to doubt the point of my existence. I shall be forever grateful for that.

And, of course, there is Fasendil... The son I had with my first wife, Lorelyn. I crossed paths with him a few times, and he earned my immense respect for his noble ideals and strength of character - but I did not learn he was my son until quite recently.

How so?

(Yet again, Aedmar seems reluctant to continue in front of Savos, but an impatient 'Will you stop that! Dillie is my favourite big brother! I wanna hear the story about him and his mom! I promise I will understand!' spurs him on to continue)

Lorelyn and I... were not really close. Our marriage had been arranged by our parents, shortly after both of us finished our education. As is customary with offspring of high-class Altmeri families, we were chosen for one another because of our pedigree... Like thoroughbred hounds - or race horses. She detested that; all the more so because I thought she was really pretty and refined and lady-like, and annoyed her to no end by my fumbling attempts to get her to... like me.

And to top it all, being a young, air-brained fool, not unlike those hapless Forsworn that were used by the Silver-Bloods, I enlisted into the Thalmor, the instant they emerged, declaring themselves to be the saviors that all merkind needed. Unlike me, Lorelyn saw through the Thalmor's lies almost immediately, and since I would hear none of her doubts, any chance I had at making our union work was irrevocably ruined. And still, to my great shame, I persisted, failing to learn one simple lesson, which, as I hope, will settle in the minds of my listeners... (He raises his voice meaningfully, his only eye fixed on Savos) You can't force someone to love you.

Eventually, Lorelyn and I got into a terrible argument, which ended with me doing something that I am not at all proud of. Yelling that she... that she was my property, whether she liked it or not, and locking her inside her room, like a misbehaving child - Savos here will confirm that I have never done it since, either to him, or his sister... I would never forgive myself if I did something like this again.

But thankfully, I was soon punished for my actions. Lorelyn outwitted me. She knew that, desperate to win her over, I had been tirelessly researching a - well, a love potion. At that point, this pursuit had already become dangerously close to an obsession - and she decided to use it against me.

On the next day after I locked her in, she called out to me from behind the door. She said that she was sorry, and that perhaps we could try making things work with magic. I jumped at the suggestion, and set to my brewing once again. After a few hours of mixing ingredients together, I gave the resulting concoction to Lorelyn, and she pretended that it had worked... that...

(He shuts his eyes once again and tosses his head from side to side, his expression twisted and pained)

That she had fallen in love with me. And like a fool, I believed her. I wanted to believe her. I let her out... I lowered my guard... We spent a... wonderful day together... And as I drifted off to sleep, so ludicrously pleased with my success, she slipped away. She left me. And I never saw her again - except for the night when she died... in my arms... when we were both hurled into a destructive battle between the Thalmor and their opponents. We were fighting for different sides, Lorelyn and I, and she refused to open her heart to me to the last. The flame of hatred kept burning in her eyes up until the very moment when the touch of death left them blank and unseeing... Until the very moment when one of her comrades, thinking me to be her killer, raced up to me, a fiery orb in his hand, and made a blow that left me crippled for almost a century...

(He cups one hand around his furrowed forehead, bowing down underneath the weight of his memories. Savos gets to his feet, suddenly serious, and comes up to his father, hugging him tightly around the shoulders. 'She was mean to you, Papa,' he whispers, nuzzling against Aedmar's silvery mane. 'You shouldn't feel so hurt about her'.
The grown elf catches hold of the lad's hand and squeezes it in his fingers, his lips twitching)

We were both mean to one another, Savos. Which – which, I suppose, is why she abandoned Fasendil shortly after he was born. She did not want another reminder of me following her around...

The boy was taken in by a couple of wandering merchants, a Bosmer and a Khajiit; they eventually settled in Cyrodiil, and when Fasendil was old enough, he enrolled at the Imperial Legion, just as I had joined the Thalmor in my day... Full of idealistic notions about the world; longing for a chance to see far-off lands, to help people in need - and to use the influence that the Imperial uniform granted him in order to find out more about his birth parents. It was only a century and a half later, however, that we finally met. I must admit, it was... complicated, coming to terms with our family's history; but now, all is well. He is a dutiful son to me and Brelyna and a loving brother to Blaise, Sissel, Savos and Melian, and I couldn't be more proud of him. I thank the stars that his service at the Legion turned out just the way he had hoped, unlike my time with the Thalmor.

15. Thank you kindly for sharing so much about your past, Master Aedmar! Now, are you female, male, or both?

Hmm, is this sudden topic shift supposed to be a tension reliever? I am male. Though I did look rather effeminate when I was young; it infuriated me immensely, and I tried to rectify it by conducting the most ludicrous experiments with my facial hair. If you do the same, Savos, I swear I will give you a good slap on the back of the head.

16. Oh my, Savos, you better beware! (There is no sarcasm in my tone when I say this) Moving on... Are you human, werewolf, ghost, etc.?

What sort of inane question is that? I am a mer, of course! I was interested in vampirism at one point, for the sake of immense boosts of magical ability that it granted, but soon gave up the idea. Consorting with Daedra Lords does far more harm than good.

17. Any pet peeves?

(The reply is preceded by a snort of contempt)

I am annoyed by plenty of things, most of which stem from stubborn ignorance, which is a grave disease indeed. Almost incurable.

One of the symptoms that infuriates me the most is when humans - Nords mostly - see an Altmer walk by and scream (he makes a ludicrous grimace and changes his voice to imitate the slow growl of a tipsy Nord), 'Thalmor! Thalmor! Kill it with fire!'.

I do not know how many eras have to pass before they get it into their thick skulls that the Thalmor are an organization and not a race... Not to mention that not all Thalmor are evil by definition. I should know - I was one of them. True, there are murderous sadists with dark hearts - but most recruits are just ordinary elves, who have lives and families that they want to get back to. Same is true of Nords, or of any side in any war that was ever fought. The commanders do their plotting, and the rest are just pawns on the board. Only pawns are all identical - all faceless... Soldiers are not.

18. Do you have any special abilities?

As my son helpfully pointed out, I spent a large portion of my life blinded by a fire bolt. As I was forced to survive in the darkness, this greatly sharpened my hearing - and even now, sometimes I can tell more about an object by closing my eyes and touching it than by looking it over.

19. Any nicknames?

(He shrugs indifferently)

I have been called many names over the course of my life, but I have barely tried to keep track of them - the bookshelves in the library of my memory are too valuable a space to cram them with useless information. Though, admittedly, 'Mister Ice Slab' did stick with me.

20. Birth defects?

(Aedmar's nostrils widen and, stiffening in indignation, he seems to grow an inch taller)

This is getting insulting! Is the story of my blindness not enough for you? No, if you must know, I was not born with any defects, but later in life, losing both eyes and then healing only one more than made up for that.

21. I... I am sorry if I offended you, Master Aedmar... Err, let's shift to the next question. Do you have a pet, sidekick, partner of any kind?

Hmph. Fine, let us get past this.

Whilst travelling, I prefer the company of my fellow mages from Winterhold - first and foremost, my wife. I have also achieved a modicum of peace between myself and Xerez, the Dremora Lord that I usually summon. As far as I understand, his clan back in the Deadlands rebelled against him, deciding that he was not cruel enough to mortals for their liking... When I first came across his spell tome, he appeared in this plane with a grave wound mangling his flesh, so instead of binding him to my will, I found myself healing him... He found it utterly humiliating - but he has grown to tolerate me since. I used my skill in Conjuration and summoning to help him search for a way to escape his clan, and as far as I understand, he now lives in the Shivering Isles, serving Sheogorath alongside a certain Golden Saint he has a soft spot for. And he is still duty-bound to assist me however I see fit.

22. Do you have a picture of yourself? Outside of the cover shot.

Yes, I do. Here is one. I hope you will find it a useful illustration of the special abilities I have mentioned.



(The next question, yet again, has been added by Savos; it is accompanied by a comical doodle of a guardsman, with a bulging beer belly and an arrow sticking out of either knee)

23. Someone stole your sweetroll?

Oh really? I must add extra explosive runes for protecting the pantry, then. Where there is sweetroll theft, there is pie theft, and we can't have that.

24. Who/What faction is your arch-nemesis?

Arch-nemesis is such a strong word... Reminiscent of that ridiculous fiction I keep finding under my son's pillow. I have obviously made quite a number of enemies - but most of them did not live long enough to gain this pompous status. My relations with the Thalmor are strained, at best - I suppose that one of my former associates, Ancano, could even count as my arch-nemesis. But I dealt with him long ago. In a way that, even though I exerted myself very hard to unleash the full destructive potential of my magic, could never match up to the crime that he had committed. The mer betrayed me. Killed my best and oldest friend. Endangered my fellow scholars. And let me look in the face of the monster that one can become when blinded by hubris.

(He shakes his head and sighs)

And ah, I almost forgot about the Miraak cultists. Their leader is long since slain, but a few stragglers are still left behind, more insane than ever, thirsting for the blood of the 'false Dragonborn'... I have to deal with those pests on a regular basis.

(It takes me quite a bit of courage to ask the next question, as I do not know how the elf might react)

26. Any tragedies that you would be willing to share?

(Aedmar clenches and unclenches his fists, tiny electric sparks shooting from underneath his fingers)

What is it with you and sob stories from my past? I think I have told you enough already!

I am really sorry, Master Aedmar. This is how the rules work.

Ah, and I suppose you won't leave me be until I spin another yarn?

That is correct, Master Aedmar. But after that - there is only one question left.

Very well then. Here is my answer.

(He throws back his head and runs his fingers through his hair)

My grandfather's death. Yes, that should be tragic enough for you. I was a child when he passed - and as he practically raised me and was my only comfort amidst my parents' neglect, it hit me really hard.

He - he was well over seven hundred years old, and his age was just beginning to creep up on him. He was starting to... forget things. Have blackouts. Doze off in the middle of a conversation, and then fervently insist that he had been awake the entire time. And it terrified him - I could feel it, even though while with me, he was all smiles and chuckles, as always. Then, one day, an old friend of his came by. A Dunmer named Korharis, just as aged as he was; if I recall correctly, the two of them had met at the time of the Soulburst, while fighting in the Alliance War on the side of the Aldmeri Dominion.

For a while, all seemed well: they sat in front of the fireplace, feet wrapped in warm blankets, with me nestling on my grandfather's lap, and swapped stories about a town where everyone had been turned to stone, and mysterious pirate elves that could summon hurricanes, and the coronation of Queen Ayrenn, and a resourceful, cloak-and-dagger sort of Khajiit named Razum-something... But then, around my bedtime, my grandfather's face grew drawn and stern, and he told me to go to my room. Like a good child, I obeyed - but a few moments after my grandfather tucked me into bed and closed the door behind him, I slipped out and crept after him: for there was something about his expression that made my heart jolt quite painfully, even though I had no way of explaining why. As it turned out, my grandfather headed for his private alchemical laboratory, where Korharis was waiting for him. He set out to brew some sort of potion, with me watching him closely from the shadows - while the Dunmer urged him to stop.

But he was relentless, taking ingredients off shelves and pouring them all together - with his back rigidly erect and his movements precise like a Dwarven automaton's. As I later realized, he was making a poison - for himself. The reason was... well... Just at the time when he got engaged to my grandmother, she almost lost her sanity due to the scheming of Sheogorath - and he could not bear the thought of the same happening to him.

'I want to go while my mind is still sound,' he said to Korharis, softly, sadly almost. 'I don't want my little Aedmar to suffer as I suffered when I saw Valaste succumb to madness. I want him to remember me the way I am now - not as a drooling, senile wreck'.

And... And then... Then he drank the poison...

(Aedmar gags on a large lump in his throat, making me regret that the interview was worded this way)

The moment he thudded down on the floor, his expressionless eyes staring straight into mine - it was too much for me. I leapt out of my hiding place and ran up to my grandfather, pulling at his hand, brushing my cheek against his, begging him to get up, begging for all this to be a game... In the end, Korharis swept me up into his arms and carried me off to bed, while I hammered his chest with my tiny fists, in a fit of hysterical sobbing... On the threshold, he turned back to face his old friend and spat out, his voice cracking,

'Damn you, Curuthir! You are making him suffer now! You are making us both suffer!'..

(Aedmar falls silent. His son stirs at his side and leans toward him, breathing into his face,

'Don't you dare do the same thing when you are old! Don't you bloody dare!'

Seeing that this interview is rapidly tumbling down towards a disastrous end, I am about to gather my things and leave, when Aedmar jolts out of his sorrowful reverie and, wrapping his arms around a slightly quivering Savos, addresses me in a loud hoarse, voice)

Wasn't there another question?

(I freeze on the spot, my supplies already half-packed)

27. Uhhh, yes, actually... What is your life's greatest dream?

(Aedmar smiles, this time fully exposing his teeth)

Living long enough to see this little sapling and his sister turn into the wonderful man and woman they are destined to become. No, Savos - I am not going to pull off that poison trick! So stop suffocating me and see this human out! I believe this interview in concluded. Now, I would like to calm my nerves by studying these outlandish healing pebbles.

Thank you very much for your time, Master Aedmar! I am sorry that some of the questions upset you.

(Aedmar, who is already halfway back to his experiment table, turns to me with a small smirk)

Well, Brelyna does keep telling me that sometimes it's best to get things off my chest. But - but let's not do this again.