User:JohnB/The Book and the Stone 1

The Book:

Aldaril and Peragon were two researchers with the Archeological Institute of Tamriel. They shared a room in the Guild of Mages in Vivec and somehow managed to live peacefully given that one was an Altmer and the other a Bosmer. Aldaril was the flamboyant one, enjoying everything the cosmopolitan Foreign Quarter had to offer a young researcher who wasn’t terribly interested in ruins and artifacts. Peragon was the studious one who genuinely loved his field of research, and while Aldaril was out researching girls, Peragon was worming his way through narrow crevices underground trying to find if openings into unexplored extensions had been overlooked in any of the Dwemer ruins. Who knows what invaluable artifacts have yet to be discovered? For this reason, Aldaril often referred to him as “Peragon the Paragon”, and it wasn't beneath him to "borrow" research from Peragon when there was a deadline to meet. Peragon never let on that any of this bothered him because he was way too engrossed in what he was doing.

He was gone for almost a week and Aldaril was getting anxious because he hadn't come up with any new insights or discoveries. When Peragon finally came through the door and slammed it behind him, he was in a flurry of excitement.

"Well, well!" Aldaril said looking up from the racy novel he was reading, "If it isn't the paragon himself! Where've you been all this time?"

"I'm going to make history!" Peragon gloated rubbing his hands together and pacing back and forth. "I found it."

Aldaril put down the novel. This might just be what he was in need of—a breakthrough. He knew it wouldn't take much to pry information out of Peragon because there was nothing he liked more than talking about his work.

"What exactly did you find?"

"A complete Aldmeri-Dwemeris/Dwemeris-Aldmeri dictionary in three volumes."

Aldaril looked flummoxed.

"Such a thing doesn't exist..."

"...until I found it!" Peragon exulted.

"Where?!"

"In the Bethamez ruin near Gnisis."

"No, I mean where is it?!"

"I left it there."

"You WHAT?!"

"Well, I tried to pick up another book in the library, and it crumbled in my hand. The dictionary was printed on acid-free paper, but it's still fragile and needs to be examined in situ. Having been underground for so many centuries, there's no telling what sunlight will do to it."

"Uh, Peragon. Would you mind very much if I went there and looked at this dictionary?" Aldaril asked very kindly.

"Nothing doing! Nix! I could go back and find it gone! And the next thing I know you'll be mobbed by the press to tell them how you found this dictionary!"

"My, aren't we paranoid around here!" Aldaril scoffed. "I tell you what, how about if we go there together?"

"All right, after I've published my findings."

Aldaril broke out in a coughing fit after accidentally inhaling some spittle.

"Shocked you, right?"

Aldaril waived a "No" while trying to stop the coughing.

"Seriously, Peragon," he finally said hoarsely, "I swear I won't do anything without your consent. At least show me this library so that I too can find something of interest that I can use in my own research."

Peragon relented and took some paper and a quill from the desk.

"What's this for?" Aldaril asked.

"We're going to be gone for some time, so you'd better leave a notice of your whereabouts in case anybody wonders."

"Right."

He dashed off a note and showed it to Peragon. Peragon read it.

"No, this won't do. 'Peragon and I are going to Gnisis to explore Bethamez.' Everybody will suspect we're up to something, and there goes my secret. How about this, 'Going to family estate in Summurset to take possession of inheritance. Will be back as soon as I can'."

Aldaril dashed it off and handed it to Peragon.

"Oh, perfect! It looks like you left in a hurry, but you'd better sign it."

Aldaril rolled his eyes and signed it.

"Good. We'll pin it on the door as we leave. Now let's get ready for a real adventure!"

As soon as they were all set, they took the silt strider to Balmora, transferred to the Ald'ruhn silt strider, and then transferred again to the Gnisis silt strider.

That was the easy part.

The Bethamez ruin is surprisingly small, so Aldaril was skeptical when Peragon led him to the lowest section of the ruin.

"So where is this library?"

"Hold on a sec."

Peragon set to work clearing away stones until there was a very narrow crawl space.

"I had to use I don't remember how many explosive satchels to break through."

He then pulled a candelabra out of his backpack, fixed candles to it, and lit them.

"Candles?!" Aldaril exclaimed in disbelief.

"The electricity is completely cut off on the other side, and you'd never get through the crawl space with a torch. Believe me, these will do."

He crouched down and then began worming his way through the crawl space. Aldaril didn't like the looks of this, but he felt he had no choice but to follow. There was a lot of grunting and groaning as they wormed their way. Aldaril could only see candle light and Peragon's feet ahead of him. It really wasn't so far, but it seemed like an eternity to Aldaril.

Peragon finally set the candelabra on a floor to the side and came out of the crawl space like a worm coming out of an apple. Aldaril followed and was immediately aghast at the shelves and shelves of books that were visible just in the candle light.

"Where is this dictionary?" he asked.

"I'll show you later. I want to explore some more because I didn't get very far last time."

He pulled a huge ball of string, tied the end to a steam pipe on the wall, and played out the string as they moved forward. There were corridors and branching corridors and hallways everywhere. The ball of string was gradually getting smaller.

(Floor plan of the catacomb of St. Agnes, to give some idea what the library of Bethamez was like.)

"Hello!" Aldaril suddenly said as if meeting an old friend.

Peragon turned and saw that he'd taken a book from a shelf at random.

"What is it?"

"It looks like a world atlas. And look! It shows continents that we don't even know! Gods! Peragon, I think I've hit paydirt just as you did!"

"Well, good for you!" Peragon said approvingly.

They came to a round room with a domed ceiling. It was full of benches and a lectern.

"I found this room earlier and tested the acoustics," Peragon explained. "They're perfect. As I speak and move around, can you tell where my voice is coming from?"

"Not at all. It's like crystal clear surround-sound."

"I think this was a lecture room. Those nine doors going around the room lead to corridors that radiate away from here. There's no telling how huge this library is. Oh, it looks as if your boot laces are coming undone."

"So they are. Here, hold this for me," he said handing the atlas to Peragon.

He crouched down to tie up his boots.

"Aldaril, are you afraid of the dark?"

"Not really."

"Then I'll teach you the true meaning of fear."

He blew out one of the candles.

“Wait! What are you doing?!” Aldaril asked alarmed and stood up quickly.

“Aldaril, do you remember that paper I was busting my rocks on about how our time is a Dark Age compared to the technological advancement of the Dwemer?”

Aldaril didn’t answer, but he knew exactly what Peragon was referring to.

“Well, great was my dismay when I found it published last month in ‘The Transactions of the Archeological Institute of Tamriel’ under your by-line.”

He blew out another candle, and the gloom was closing in on them.

“This dictionary,” Aldaril said calmly, though the clicking in his mouth indicated that his mouth had gone thoroughly dry, “I imagine it never existed.”

“Oh, it exists—in a safe deposit box at the Bank of Vvardenfell.”

“Oh,...is that so?”

“Yes, that is so.”

“So you lied to me.”

“And how many times have you lied to me?” Peragon responded angrily. “When you asked to read my paper, I never thought you’d run to the publisher with it. The people who were lauding your sagacity should have been lauding mine, but you stole my thunder.”

“Stole your thunder?!" Aldaril guffawed. "Are you serious?! I wouldn’t call that paper earth-shaking scholarship, which is why I didn’t think you’d mind my...borrowing it. Besides, you needn’t do as I’ve always done because you already have a solid reputation while mine is questionable. I don't have a conscience, so I'm clear. But you know what would happen if you did the same? Your conscience will flog you mercilessly.”

“Don’t get preachy with me! I’ve got the string and the atlas! Pay-back time is when this last candle is extinguished. You know, they say seeing is believing, but in the absolute darkness it’s as if nothing exists anymore.”

“I suppose there’s nothing I can do about this,” Aldaril responded. "You’re only slightly cracked now, but I will turn you truly mad!”

“Goodbye, Aldaril,” Peragon said and blew out the last candle.

Nothing happened.

“Aldaril?”

No response.

Peragon turned away and began winding up the ball of string. Now and then his leg hit a bench, which resounded in the utter blackness, but there was still total silence. This was extremely unnerving to Peragon. He was expecting howls of despair, but there was not even the sound of breathing. His mind began playing strange games with him. What if Aldaril had a way to warp out of here? He was no mage, and he didn’t see this coming. The more Peragon thought about it, the more his pace quickened to be out of there.

Later on, studies on both the dictionary and the atlas were published, and Peragon was the hero of the archeological world. However, there was something very disconcerting—the atlas caused a far greater stir than the dictionary. The dictionary was of only limited use while the atlas showed continents where the people of Tamriel expected there to be nothing but wide expanses of ocean. He was mobbed by the press to answer how he’d found this one-of-a-kind map collection. Of course, he hadn’t found it, and every time he answered, the story somehow came out a little differently. He was finding it difficult to remember what he said before because it had been a long time since he was able to get a decent sleep.

Add to that the mystery of Aldaril's whereabouts. If he was panicky, why didn't he scream? If he died from a weak heart, why was there no sound of his body dropping to the floor? If he somehow teleported out, where was he? There was the rub: he could be anywhere. Everything was starting to get unreal, and Peragon could no longer deal with it. He shut himself up in his room and refused to come out. The Guild of Mages in Vivec resounded night and day with his shrieks and cries, and they were at a loss what to do. When he wasn't hallucinating, he would open his door and quickly grab the dinner tray left there on a stool, but on most days he wouldn't touch it.