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The Beach

Being the strange case of the man who came from the sea.

There was an elderly Dunmer man living in the heartlands of Cyrodiil who had always been ill. The mages and mystics and alchemists called it a depletion of the basic minerals that made up his composition. Over the course of years they had tried potions, diets and magicka, yet it all made very little difference; it was almost like the mans body rejected all the basic elements, and in reality he should not have survived.

In the eyes of the healer guilds he was a modern day miracle, although none would have put it quite like this, putting his condition down to the mysteries of the Gods.

Most mages, knowing a little about the makeup of the universe, privately decided his body was in a state of flux, drawing the necessary store of basic nutrients which kept him barely alive from ‘elsewhere'. If pressed no one could agree on quite what ‘elsewhere' might signify, and his condition produced not a few little bizarre articles in the curative presses of the time.

One piece of information that they all were missing was that the man originally hailed from a tiny fishing seaport in the northernmost regions of Morrowind: And a chance remark from one specialist, that he might take a sojourn from the modern world, would send him back there, was not something, one would think, that would make the slightest difference.

But when one is composed of 99% water and 1% of solids, it might have made the difference in all their calculations.

So it was that in the summer of 3E 323 that Favas Golathyn was sitting in the trading caravan watching as the little hamlet of ebbedin came into view. It sat in a cove in the bay, little changed from his childhood recollections. A thick looking but lightweight walking stick bore most of his weight as he leaned forward to get a better view, unexpected excitement filling his breast. There were a few more, new, houses scattered upwards across the brae, bigger than the fishermen cottages clustered around the harbour. Within his minds eyes he watched the childish memories unfurl.

The young Favas Golathyn was a healthy vital six-year who spent a lot of his playtime allowance on the beach. He felt like he had a special relationship with the rocky strip of land between ocean and boring school life, pathways would magically appear in areas he'd decided to explore, and rock pools would be filled with life he'd never seen before, as though the beach were holding them in, waiting for his arrival. His mother, driven to distraction by his disappearances would forbid him access to the beach, but he would sneak off anyway. His father, a fisherman who might be gone for weeks at a time, defended his sojourns away, and the gentle conversations - they never argued, would carry on the evening air as he lay on his cot dreaming of caves and smugglers loot.

Favas came back to the present with an almost physical wrench; he'd recalled that he'd become ill just after leaving. He shook, as his wasted frame strived to stand up, his lean, pale face thanked the driver with a smile, and he shuddered as he hefted his small bag up with too few possessions. Walking was difficult, he would walk, and then have to rest, but he finally reached the small house he'd been brought up in. He was pleased to find the neighbours had cleaned the place up for his arrival and he spent the early afternoon putting his life in closets and drawers. Tired out he slept for a few hours, dreaming of speaking rocks and strange watery nymphs rising from the oceans deeps.

He was home!

When he woke, he felt new strength surging into his body, as though it had been asleep all these many years.

He finally got down to the beach as the evening shadows drew in, his ghost memory ran ahead of him, shrieking in remembered excitement. He felt energised by the return to his old stomping ground, hearing the quiet slough as waves washed onto the beach, almost singing to him. He stood taller, the years washing from his bones, filling with the boundless energy of the sea.

"Favas, we've missed you so... we've been calling you for so long... why did you leave us?"
the ocean sang, as impossible shapes streaked beneath the waves. He reached the waters edge, feeling the evening chill as a shiver that travelled from the base of his spine upwards. He felt he was hallucinating, seeing impossible shapes take form from the water - glittering nymphs, satyrs, mermaids - impossible creatures, male and female, all singing their recognition of him.

As his bare feet touched the water - had he not worn shoes? the shiver in his spine suffused through his whole body as the ocean continued to whisper it's lullaby. He looked down aghast, he was naked, but not just naked, translucent. His clothes lay by him on the floor, wet through, they had simply fallen off. He was no longer solid but a mer shaped form composed entirely of water - and the song of the ocean roared through him, filling him, welcoming him back to the fold...

Finally - he was back home!

Copyright © 2006 Tony F Paulazzo All Rights Reserved