skyrimkinkmeme | Skyrim Page 5 - "NAKED! Naked naked naked "

Skyrim Page 5 - "NAKED! Naked naked naked "

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Erandur may be a complete badass, but he's no longer a young Mer, and living alone on a mountaintop with only ice wraiths and bad memories for company isn't good for anyone's health. The Dragonborn worries, and has repeatedly tried to persuade him that Mara won't mind if he does his penance somewhere safe. And warm. With people.

So when the DB swings by Nightcaller Temple to check up on Erandur, only to find that he's finally managed to wreck his health, they make the executive decision to move him somewhere less likely to kill him while he recuperates (Heljarchen Hall?).

No restrictions. Platonic or romantic, as it pleases anon.

Tl;dr - Erandur sick!fic!

Yes, I second this so hard! Erandur is one of my very favorite characters, and I love fics where stubborn men need to be taken care of. Really hoping someone picks this up!

Thirded! I love Erandur, and this is a pretty sweet prompt!

I love Erandur, and I will write this. I have never killed him, no matter that the staff is the most badass looking thing this side of the White River.

DB is a very tribal-looking, Daedra worshipping M! Bosmer. /complications

OP will be over here, making happy noises.

Tamnihir hiked through the snowdrifts up the mountain outside Dawnstar. Nightcaller temple loomed at the summit, the sun sinking fast into the sea to the left. It was not snowing in earnest yet, but dark clouds were blowing in from the east, and a few ominous flakes were already spiraling down. A harsh wind shrieked across the mountainside, stinging his eyes.

Near the temple the snow was piled knee deep. Usually there was a small space kept free of snow, or even a path down the mountain, but it didn't seem that Erandur had been out in a while. Tamnihir let that thought distract him a little too long. A pair of icewraiths twisted through the air toward him. He leapt back, drawing a fire enchanted dagger, slashing out at them in wide arcs, trying to keep them at a distance.

He summoned a flame atronach that glided off to one side, dripping fire, distracting the second one, while the first took the moment to dive forward. The teeth sank into his arm and he watched for a split second in morbid fascination before the searing pain registered. Instinct led him and he buried the knife in it's translucent head, turning it to a heap of glowing scales and slime as he staggered back, bleeding, the hot blood steaming on the cold air. The atronach crumbled, but the second wraith was nowhere in sight. Neither was it's body. At least it had been frightened off for the time being.

He hammered on the door. No answer.

"Erandur?"

The wind threw his voice back at him, with the whisper of an ice wraith. Was it coming back? Why wasn't the Dunmer responding? Was he dead? Kneeling in the snow by the door he tugged off his gloves--it was impossible to work lockpicks with gloves on--and manipulated the lock until it sprung open. It took several minutes and his fingers aching with cold by the time it was done. The sun had sunk and the wind moaned low, sounding for all the world like an animal in pain. Tamnihir shouldered open the door and stumbled inside, slamming it behind him.

Sitting on the floor he leaned back against the sturdy planks and shut his eyes for a moment. He realized he was shivering still with the bitter cold, and now that the danger was past the pain of his wound was suddenly sharp and immediate. How could Erandur live in a place like this, the Bosmer wondered. Skyrim was a cold and harsh land but this was surely one of it's worst corners.

Maybe Erandur's down in the village, he thought, and I missed him. Gingerly he shrugged off his cloak and unlaced his jerkin, assessing the seriousness of the icewraith's bite. It turned out to be far from dangerous: it was shallow despite the quick bleeding, having been mostly stopped by the armor, and more painful than anything else. One of the punctures had, however, marred the design of vines tattooed down his arm. He frowned in annoyance and bound it tightly with a scarf before putting on a fresh tunic and proceeding past the entry hall. The fact that Erandur seemed to have not noticed the door being opened and shut was worrying.

The chapel was empty.

He's down in the village, Tam thought. He's probably at the inn, and you just didn't check there first. Or he's healing some miner...Tamnihir continued on to the small side room where Erandur slept and stopped in shock. The Dunmer was curled on his pallet, stripped to the waist, his face and chest shiny with sweat, asleep or unconscious. Clumsy bandages were wrapped around his midsection. His breathing was harsh and sounded even louder in the small room. Tamnihir sat by the bed and gently shook the Dunmer's shoulder.

"Erandur, what happened to you?"

The priest's eyes fluttered open, unfocused. "Tam," he muttered, clutching Tamnihir's hand. "Tam, thank the Gods, I kept dreaming of you, and you kept wandering all over the castle and when I called out you never answered. I gave up following you," he said, in a half delirious rush, "I gave up when you started passing through the walls. You're not going to leave again, are you? And I saw them, Veren and Thorek. They were dead, they were angry, and, and crying.They spoke to me, Tam, they--"

"Calm yourself." Tamnihir was very worried now. "Let me help you." He poured some water from the jar in the corner into an earthenware mug and returned to the bed. "Here, drink."

Erandur winced in pain as Tamnihir helped him up. He took the mug with trembling hands and drank gratefully. As soon as he had finished Tamnihir left him for the moment, intending to search the castle for anything that might help heal the priest.

"Please, please stay with me." Erandur stretched a hand pitifully out to him, eyes wide with fear, nearly desperate, and Tam felt his heart break a little.

"I'll be back, I promise," he said, and rushed down to the abandoned laboratory. His footsteps echoed on the walls of the corridor as he ran, and his thoughts raced with him. How could Erandur live in this place all for the sake of doing penance? If Mara was so damn merciful surely she should have forgiven the priest by now. There was no need for Erandur to stay here any longer; there never was! Why couldn't the man understand?

Tam arrived at the lab, angry, panting slightly. Most of it was dusty, but a corner of it had been kept neat, likely by Erandur. A few jars of dried herbs stood on the shelves. It was at that moment he realized he knew little of herbcraft. He knew what parts of animalsor insects, fish or fungi, could be used to heal or hurt or even hallucinate--but plants were almost a complete mystery to him.

"Gods damn!"

Pushing the long, untidy dark reddish mass of his hair back from his face, he sighed and tried to think. There it was--Snowberries. Someone had given him snowberry tea when he'd caught bonebreak fever from a bear trap hidden in a drift of leaves. Taking the jar, he returned to the room and built up the fire, heating water. Erandur was unconscious again. Tam was saddened that the priest hadn't remained awake long enough to see that he was not being left alone, but took this time to fix the inexpert dressing of the wounds.

He cut through the bandages, and it seemed to be a spider bite of some kind. Mercifully, the priest didn't wake up until Tamnihir was finished cleaning and sewing the wound. Erandur drank the snowberry tea in silence, but soon began to hallucinate, mostly Veren, Thorek, and spiders, and seemed so sick that the Bosmer was torn between going back to the village for the slim possibility of help and remaining at the temple to comfort him.

In the end he sat up through the night with Erandur, who recovered considerably by early the next morning. The priest woke from a fitful sleep and put a hand on Tam's shoulder. Tam was sitting by the bed, reading one of the religious texts that was lying around.

"Thank you, my dear friend." His voice was soft but clear.

Tam turned and embraced him, relieved. "When I got here I was ready to be cross at you for staying here, as usual. But how can I, when you say things like that?," He asked, muffled by the Dunmer's hair. He sat back and smiled crookedly. "Don't answer that, I'll manage somehow. How do you feel?"

"Tired still. But my mind is clear...what day is it?"

"Morndas. The twelfth or thirteenth."

"I was attacked by a frostbite spider almost a week ago while out gathering brush for the fire."

"You've been like that for days? You could've died up here, alone in the cold. I can't believe none of those damn villagers could be arsed to come up here and check on you."

"They have their own lives, Tam."

"Fuck them."

"Tam--"

"You help them all the time, giving them council and healing, making them potions. Fuck them all sideways."

"Tam! I've been bitten by frostbite spiders in the past. It's uncomfortable and frightening but it won't kill you. The poison just takes a while to wear off."

"So this isn't the first time this has happened." Tam shut the book. "You were badly hurt. You needed help. You could've died."

"This was worse than before, it's true."

"None of this would've happened if you weren't in this crumbling temple. We're getting some breakfast and then we're getting you out of this damn hole. Permanently."

ughhhh yessss this is so good i can't wait to read more

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