#azurasblacksheep

To Whomever finds this boat,

For reason I cannot say, I am unable to deliver the enclosed letter and offering in person. I request most humbly that by the Grace of the Three that this boat and its contents be delivered to the Temple.

If you are of the Temple and are reading this I would politely ask of you a favour. I wish for the contents of this boat to be delivered to the Ramarys Family Tomb. The offerings to be burnt and the letter enclosed to be read aloud. I ask that the paintings be placed around the ash pit and the diary also be read aloud when possible.

I hope you understand my anonymity, the consequences of appearing in Blacklight would be too great on my part, though this pains me so.

The one whom the enclosed letter and offerings are for a close, departed friend. I can only beg that you do not speak of the letter’s contents, it is rather personal but I understand the dead can only know something if you speak.

The priest nodded to himself. This wasn't the first time he had had such requests, having dealt with many letters to lost forbidden loves.

Examining the contents of the boat he squinted at the objects. Well… This was a rather unusual assortment. Contained within was a bag of saltrice, some pinkish feathers and a bag that smelt like a mix of spices he could not identify. Additionally there was a reasonably thick small book that must have been the diary and a collection of small oil paintings, containing beautiful depictions of Tamriel’s various landscapes and wildlife. Some were even of Morrowind, the priest found himself chuckling at the painting of two nix hound pups play-fighting.

His squint grew as he read the name on the second letter. The Ramarys Clan were large and it was no surprise that no one could remember any of its members aside from Thetys.

But who was this Ramarys member?

Curiosity and duty caused the priest to immediately head out for the Ramarys Tomb which proved a challenge. Whilst he had lived in Blacklight for many years now and seldom found himself lost, he now found himself double-backing. The Siege had rendered much of the city unrecognisable and navigating the streets was treacherous in itself given all the loose rubble.

But what was strange, was that once the area with the family tombs had been reached the destruction was almost non-existent. It was surprising really that the tombs had not really been targeted at all, or even hit by accident. There were some other areas of the city that followed a similar trend. And whilst perhaps the Thalmor were wary of enraged Dunmer ancestors, surely they did not care about some spice shop? That little spice shop was remarkable, whilst the area it was in had been heavily hit that little shop had remarkably remained untouched.

The priest soon found the Ramarys Tomb and entered to find it completely dark which was no surprise. Given the Siege, family members would not have been coming here and the priests were stretched thin enough as it was, they just did not have time to ensure candles remained lit in all the tombs.

The spirits of this tomb were not best pleased, but the priest had long ago trained to ignore their anger. Instead he began to sing a gentle song in Dunmeris, lighting candles as he went and checking various ash pit. Soon the tomb was licked by the lights of many candles and the stagnant ash-scented air was being pushed away by the burning of whatever spices the priest had been able to find.

The spirits calmed, their presence dimming as they accepted the priest’s apology and went back to sleep once more.

It took a little bit of time, but soon he found the correct ash pit, double-checking the name and frowned. This ash pit was relatively recent and he swore this was the ash pit he saw the Drillmaster often sitting by. What was so special about the Dunmer whose ashes lay here? And how had such a Dunmer been forgotten so quickly and easily?

Murmuring the respective words, the offerings were burnt. And the paintings placed around the edge of the ash pit.

“Hello, someone has sent a letter for you.” The priest settled himself on a chair, opening the letter carefully and stopped. This was three pages! He had rarely received such long letters for the dead before!

Clearing his throat, the priest began to read and soon found tears pricking his eyes as the raw emotion of the letter hit him. The paper was covered in smudged ink from where the author’s tears had hit the paper.

My dear friend,

I would ask you how you’ve been but I'm guessing that when you're dead things change little. But I'll ask you anyway, I hope that wherever you are you are at peace.

I honestly don't know what to say any more than sorry. I am sorry I failed you. I am sorry I couldn't protect you. I am sorry I couldn't save you. I am so sorry for the horror Blacklight has been subjected to. I am sorry I couldn't do more and stop this.

I failed you and your people and I can only ask that you find it in yourself to forgive me. But if you don't I understand and it's honestly what I deserve. I’ve failed you a second time now. Once is forgivable, but two times? I understand if you hate me now.

But at the same time I cling to the hope you can forgive me - you were always the forgiving sort. Such a kind soul. You didn't deserve the fate that was dealt you.

No. Writing about that day only makes me cry more. I can only apologise that I couldn't do more. I should have been able to save you but my Magicka failed me. You were right, that such reliance on Magicka was foolish and yet you had come to realise relying purely on physical means was not enough. Especially when Magicka can form a shield at your back.

You never admitted it, but I could tell you saw its uses. I caught those nods.

But on that day I should have used my sword entirely, I should have saved my Magicka for when it really mattered and you’d still be here.

If anything that was my deepest regret. I do not regret in the slightest coming to Blacklight and even moreso I am deeply grateful you were assigned to me. I do not think I could have grown to appreciate your city as much as I have had I been with anyone else. All those adventures we had…

Do you remember when you bet 50 drakes that I couldn’t eat 10 marshmerrow hand pies in one go? Your face! And remember how I fed a Bantam guar that was wandering around, and how you said I shouldn’t because of what would happen? The next day I had so many Bantam guar outside my door! They were so adorable, oh if only I could have some!

Remember when I tried riding a guar for the first time and fell off? Or how I tried on some Redoran armour and it didn’t suit me at all and how silly I looked? And then you insisted on putting some Redoran war paint on me!

I never really learnt my way around the city, I always ended up getting lost. But I think that was more owing to exploration by the end as opposed to trying to find my way. Blacklight is a city that wants to explored and I couldn’t resist it.

Remember when you took me to that ridge beyond Blacklight to watch the sunrise? Neither of us spoke, it was so beautiful.

I learnt so much from this city and from you. I can only thank you and Blacklight for the experiences.

My only other regret would be that I didn’t tell you more. And sometimes I wonder if I should have told you, if I should ever tell you and yet I think it best if I keep some things to myself.

But back to the current situation, no matter how much it pains me. I have tried my hardest to ensure that the attacks were not directed at the tombs or the temples. I tried my best to have your favourite spots evaded, but I could not save Blacklight entirely. I could not be caught but I hope my actions have saved your city and her people enough. Morrowind has suffered enough already, it does not deserve this and if I had more power I would have stopped this attack. My aunt did what she could, neither of us wanted this. We tried so hard to prevent it but our voices were ignored, I can only hope that our actions were enough to reduce the bloodshed.

But this letter was not just to bring you and I sadness. I want to tell you some other things.

I did promise you I would show you Tamriel and it breaks my heart I never could. That we were so close and yet we never got there. And whilst this isn’t the same, it is the nearest I can do - the paintings I’ve provided are of the various landscapes I’ve seen throughout my travels. I hope these paintings allow you to travel a bit (I am not sure how much you can travel Tamriel from the afterlife).

After I left Blacklight I did not exactly go straight home. I was home for a few months but then I knew I just had to travel, I decided to travel for you, I had no idea why at the time but now I know - so that I could document as much of Tamriel as I could for you. I had already seen a fair bit of Tamriel but that had been on missions, never at a more relaxed pace where I could explore. (I have included a small book, in there are my most interesting diary extracts I thought would you amuse you! Maybe a priest or priestess could read you one every so often?)

Each of the paintings I have included do have an accompanying story in the diary, but I think I’ll include one in this letter.

The picture with the Orisimer was painted from within the stronghold looking out at the stunning view of the mountains. It was a funny story that one. I approached the stronghold, thinking it better to ask the orcs first if they would mind if I sat a little way off and paint the mountains with their stronghold. I wasn’t too sure of Orisimer, and wanted to keep on their good side. They simply asked that I keep a good distance, they couldn’t figure out why anyone would be out here painting! ‘Paint only goes on the body!’ I remember clearly was what one of them said. And so I got myself comfortable and started painting. A few hours went by and I looked up to find one of the womer just standing there watching me. She had a child with her, they were curious but reluctant to approach.

I smiled at them and turned my painting around so they could see. After some persuasion, they approached and the child was so excited! The womer was fascinated by the painting and wanted to know what there was to be gained from painting and so I explained. I told her how painting allows me to capture scenes that could be gone one day. It allows me to show others who have not travelled or cannot. I told her it was something I had always enjoyed.

Then she asked me why I wanted to paint the stronghold. “I’ve never painted one before and the Orsimer do fascinate me. You are a very resilient people.”

Whilst she could not understand how I could enjoy painting, by the end of the day I had several Orisimer children sitting about me as I did a painting of them fighting a sabrecat (they really wanted me to paint them fighting something and they were so adorable I couldn’t say no!). They loved it! I have them to thank really, they ran back to the stronghold, encouraging me with them and showed my painting to everyone.

After the Chief decided I was not a threat, just odd, he permitted I could stay a few nights in the stronghold for safety. He was so taken by the painting I did of his children he requested I do a portrait of him. He was very pleased with the result and I enchanted it so it would not be damaged.

Orisimer have a curious way of life, and yet for a race known for being violent those days in the stronghold were peaceful. The Orisimer did spar but the general atmosphere of the Stronghold was oddly tranquil. There was no one else around for miles, I guess that’s why they had built their stronghold there.

I stayed a few days in that Stronghold, I ended up painting them a giant portrait of Malacath as thanks. In return I was given a sword which was magnificently crafted as to be expected. It really does have the perfect balance and has served me well thus far.

There is one other thing to add, that you have to know. You were such a dear friend to me, such an honest and noble person. You represented House Redoran truthfully and I don’t think I will ever again meet someone as selfless as you. Gods how I miss you! And whilst I cannot be here physically to talk to you but in a letter and provide you with an offering and paintings, there was one other thing I could do for you. When I returned home I ended up getting married, my husband is a lovely man - I think you would have got along well with him!

Just two years ago we were blessed with a baby girl and even then I knew what I was going to name her! I insisted that she be named after you!

She’s already very inquisitive, and already showing signs of Magicka! I have no other explanation of how she managed to get a jam jar from one of the highest cupboards! I walked in to find her covered in jam, she’d eaten most of the jar would you believe?! And she was smearing it absolutely everywhere!

She’s got my hair but it’s really curly, gosh she’s adorable!

In a few years I’ll tell her all about you and Blacklight! You really were the person who made me see everything differently and I thank you. I can only do you justice by passing on such knowledge, and of course, naming her after you.

I just hope that things will change so that one day I can bring her here and perhaps I could talk to you? I don’t quite understand how getting ghosts to appear works in the tombs but I’m sure it can be explained.

Even though you cannot reply I am grateful I could write this. I can only hope this letter finds you.

And thank you for everything once again,

Thank you so so much,

An old and dear friend who visited Blacklight fifty or so years ago.

The priest sat utterly still as he finished the letter, his throat painful from the lump that had grown there. His face was streaked with silent tears. For someone who had seemingly been forgotten they had not been by this person. And what they had said and how they clearly were not Dunmer… The letter seemed to suggest that they were with the Thalmor, surely that was impossible! And yet it made so much sense…

This person had been to Blacklight before and had clearly fallen in love with the city. So much so that they had returned to take part in this Siege, not to cause suffering but to try and prevent it. Now it made sense, why some places had been avoided. Could it have been that that little spice shop was special to this departed Dunmer?

It was only now that the priest noticed the air around him was warm as the ash pit was tinged with a blue light.The spirit had indeed heard the letter and was incredibly happy. A soft smile lifted the priest’s lips as he blinked away the tears and wiped his face.

Focusing on the paintings, he tilted his head as he decided how best to display them. Nodding to himself, he ambled off for a few minutes, returning with an armful of ash yams. Given he had nothing else, he was using the spare ash yams stored in the tomb.

“I’ll just get these paintings into a better position for you…” Kneeling down he picked up one of the paintings and set it gently on the rim of the ash pit to lean it against the ash yam. This he repeated until the pit was ringed in paintings.

Finally he opened the box at the side of the ash pit where other offerings were sometimes stored, placing both the letter and the diary carefully inside.

Standing up, the priest surveyed the pit once more. Yes, the paintings were in a good position he thought.

“I’ll leave you in peace now. Whoever you are, you sound like you are an incredible person. I’ll come back tomorrow and read you another story from that diary.” A soft smile graced the priest’s lips, nodding as the blue light flared before it fractured and drifted away in faint wisps. Even in these dark times, some happiness could be found.

Top row: Their childhood --> Ravi leaving

Middle: Ravi’s absence

I will be back in Blacklight soon enough, should be another couple of weeks or so then I can leave. Safe to say I’m counting down the days until I can see your face again (I mean I think that locket I have has kept me somewhat grounded!) and hold you. Maybe the day after I get back we could go out for a meal somewhere? One of your favourite spice houses perhaps?

On the subject of food, I’m bringing back some new preserves I’ve created, got a few marmalades and some sweet ash yam jams. And few insect-based things, won’t spoil it too much - want to keep it a surprise!

It is good I am writing to you, being away for this long… It has made me think and has allowed me to write this in full. I feel like if I were to say the following bit aloud to you...I’d botch it up somehow, start crying or something. At least this way I can get my words out in full.

Just need to think of how to start this…. Well, here goes…

Gilmyn, I know how much you worry, about how you fear one day I’ll walk out that door and never return. That one day your hugs and kisses will mean nothing to me, that you’ll never be ‘good enough for me’.

How you cling to me when it is time for me to go to work… Of how you visit me so often in the groves. You worry so much, you hate being apart from me for even a few hours. I only dread to think of how you are right now. I can still remember how long you hugged me for before I left, of how tight it was.

It hurt in more ways than one… I guess it hurt because it hammered home just how scared and worried you are of betrayal. (I was not cross at you, just aching with worry and heartbreak there. Just hurting with sadness I guess) For someone who acts like they are made of Blacklight’s walls, you can be so vulnerable. It makes me wonder, worry even, about what you must have endured to have built up such walls. How many people have turned their backs on you? Let you down or simply vanished one day?

I know I can say that I won’t abandon you but you’ve been abandoned and let down so much in your life you have every right to distrust my words. But I can assure you I never would do such a thing. To abandon someone as…(gosh it is hard to choose one word to describe you!) as alive and as bright as you… The very idea brings me great sadness.

I would never dream of betraying you or your family.

I will never leave one day and never return. I will maintain communication as best I can (it is something you have told me you have always struggled to have with people - very few had the time to just talk to you. And yet I’ll talk and talk with you. You are more than welcome to wake me up in the middle of the night to talk if you have a pressing worry or cannot sleep). If I ever do fall silent, I can assure you it is never because I want nothing to do with you. The idea of being unfaithful is abhorrent to me. I could never hurt you like that. Why would I? For all the things you are, Gilmyn, you aren’t shallow when the layers are peeled back. You care. So so much. Perhaps that is one of the reasons I fell in love with you. It is hard to find someone like you in Morrowind of all places.

I love you, Gilmyn, far beyond the physical means. Love for me...it is not just some passionate heated moments. It is those instances when you made sure I was eating. It is when you made me put down my work and get some sleep. It is when you remembered my favourite spice and surprised me by cooking a stew with it in. It is how you are willing to listen to me ramble on about plants and my ideas, I’ve even put my friends to sleep when talking about such things!

Love is when I went out that late evening because you forgot to pick up your hayfever medicine. I didn’t think twice, I just did it. I didn’t want you to be miserable. You being upset or angry… It upsets me because you aren’t happy. Surely that is love? When you feel true anguish for another’s suffering? You’ll do anything to stop it.

I have never enjoyed being in someone’s company as I have yours. You bring a smile to my face and soul every time I see you or hear your voice. To be so content and at peace just in someone’s presence… Surely that is love?

I want to make you happy, to see you smile always and yet I’ll be here for you if you need to cry. If times ever get hard I will support you. Surely love means sticking by each other even when things get ugly? And that is just what I intend to do.

You keep me going. Sometimes I feel like I would never have got things done if it weren’t for you.

I miss you sorely...I dream of you every night and sometimes I think you’re here and then I wake up and find I’m hugging a pillow. If I did not love you, surely I would not dream of you? Surely that is my subconscious letting myself know of its sheer longing for you?

I’ll be home soon, I do not want you worry about me being away for so long. I hope this letter reaches you quickly this time and that the beetle doesn’t get lost this time!

I guess I just wanted to reassure you that my feelings for you have not weakened. But rather, like a saltrice plant after drought, doused in heavy rains, my feelings have only bounced back. If anything, my time away from you for so long has only strengthened my feelings for you.

I love you Gilmyn Ramarys, and I don’t think that’s going to change.

With all the love in my heart,

Sar

P.S. In the second envelope are pressed gold kanets on decorated card. In House Dres pressed flowers and plants are common house decorations and they are often sent to friends, family and lovers as a means of good fortune or affection. Sometimes they are to wish luck or give a congratulations. Given Morrowind doesn’t have as many flowers as other lands, it is the arrangement of the flowers (and leaves) on the card that mean something instead.

But it was no use, the child only giggled as it toddled forwards with outstretched arms as he yelled various things. She tried to look terrifying, tried to demonstrate she could do harm as she continued to back away in quick circles. Her cries grew louder as hisses started to intertwine. But exposing her teeth did nothing, especially as well, she no longer had them. Before she had got here she had been subject to a cruel decision of being held down whilst her teeth and claws were torn out. Why she did not know. Yes she had tried to bite her captors, but only because they had stolen her away!

She remembered how others of her kind had been subject to the same torment. How they had all been dragged far from home where the Voice of The Hist was but a whisper. She had watched other die, starving because eating proved too painful.

Only by calling to each other could they offer some comfort and even that assurity was snatched away when they had been dragged out into brilliant sunlight and separated. She had not a clue what was happening, only of loud voices, too many hands upon her skin whilst her mouth was open repeatedly and eyes inspected. Her toes examined  whilst ugly metal things were forced into her mouth, her abdomen crushed by tight leather.

It seemed almost unreal, that she was now a slave. She still could not bring herself to think such a thing and even so, she was fairly certain most slaves were kept in a muzzle and manacles. For whatever reason it had been decided she would not wear those damming objects.

A cold thud to her back brought her back to the present. Looking up she saw to her horror that she had been forced up against the wall. A quick glance confirmed no escape - either side were corners and in front was a giggling mer.

Breathing fast and ragged she could barely think of an escape plan. Crying out in anger, doing her best to channel her surging fear into fury, she made to start scrambling to the wall. If she could just get high enough perhaps she could escape out one of the windows. Her heart was racing as her mind whirled, such was her panic and desperation to escape this nightmare.

More giggling heralded a weight on her tail as something yanked on it. Crying out in shock, her stomach plummeted along with her body as she fell only to immediately have the giggling weight on her.

Hands were everywhere as the child laughed, poking her to trigger another shriek of terror or pulling on a body part. Squirming and flattened against the floor for the child was on lying on her back, hands about her throat, she struggled to breath whilst the mer started to hit her none too gently on her shoulder like he wanted her to move.

Her cries pleaded for him to stop but he did not understand. In fact it only seemed to encourage him. Shielding one eye with a foot for he was now grabbing at her face, trying to pull her mouth open, she tried to hide her head under her body with eyes squeezed shut.

She was not sure how long this went on for, with her trying to throw the giggling child off, when a voice called out. The child grew quiet almost instantly as larger footsteps approached.

“Gilmyn! She's not going to say hello with you trying to yank her head up like that!” The servant admonished gently, a smile on her face as she approached the grinning toddler. The giant gecko he was sitting on made another attempt to squirm away, all the while chirping in such an adorable fashion. Clearly this creature was excited and wanting to be off scampering across walls and ceilings. Wanting to explore her new home.

General Ramarys had placed the order for this animal a number of weeks ago, she had arrived yesterday and had been inspected by both the General and his wife to ensure she matched the quality demanded. She had arrived a few days late due to an issue with the caravan but aside from that, Gilmyn’s birthday present had arrived very healthy which was what really mattered here. The gecko was five feet long but could grow to seven feet and a brilliant myriad of colours. With a bright blue tail, brilliant emerald body, red specks ran her entire length. Her head capped in blue with red-purple markings. Purple and white streaks ran from her eyes and down her neck to meet the yellow of her forelegs. Her hind legs being a mix of yellow and purple. An astoundingly beautiful, vibrant animal it was hard to believe existed.

“We were playing tag!” Gilmyn proclaimed, looking rather pleased with himself as he now sat up straight on the gecko’s shoulders.

“Oh? And who won?” the servant chuckled as she knelt down.

“Me!” Gilmyn was starting to bounce up and down on the giant lizard slightly in his excitement, extracting more squeaks from the reptile.

“Well done! Although, Gil, could you get off her for a second. I need to put her harness on.” So saying, the servant held up some of the tack to which the toddler nodded enthusiastically sliding off the gecko with ease and keeping one hand on her neck. Still she tried to bolt for it, chirping once more. Dropping the tack, the servant lunged forwards, catching and bringing the squirming lizard to her. Holding her tightly, the servant shushed her, stroking her gently whilst Gilmyn stroked and patted her on the nose.

The chirps and wriggling gradually subsided as the gecko seemingly relaxed. “There, she’s nice and relaxed now,” the servant confirmed and tilted her head, settling the reptile into her lap. “Gilmyn, could you pass me those reins please?”

Normally the child would not have obeyed so easily but just this once he was happy to follow orders. Whilst Gilmyn fetched the reins, which were lying in a heap on the floor under a saddle (both saddle and reins were made of netch leather, etched with designs of Morrowind’s various animals), the servant started to tickle the gecko under the chin. Gradually her eyes closed as her mouth opened, head tilting up as her body grew yet more relaxed. As the gecko uttered a series of adorable chuffs, the servant could not help but let out an “Awwww”. If she could afford one of these she would have bought one the years ago. These giant geckos were impossibly cute and so gentle.

“HERE!” Gilmyn yelled, holding the reins aloft and looking rather pleased with himself that he had freed them. Startled at the sudden noise, the gecko immediately shut her mouth, trying to bolt for it. Once more the servant wrestled with the animal, stroking her once more until she was calm.

“Try to be quiet, Gilmyn, she’s only just got here. She’s a bit nervous,” the servant murmured as she started tickling the underside of the gecko’s chin once more. “And thank you. Now watch what I’m doing - they like this and it’s an easy way to get their mouth open. See?”

Gilmyn watched fascinated as his gecko began to open her mouth once more. With a word, excitement lighting up his eyes, he too started tickling her chin. Giggling as she opened her mouth, Gilmyn started to stroke her on top of her head.

“Alright, pass me the reins and keep on tickling her under the chin,” the servant instructed, relieving Gil of the reins as he stroked his gecko both under her chin and on top of her head.With her head tilted back and mouth wide open, it was easy enough to place the metal bit in her mouth and quickly fit the leather about her head.

The moment cold metal touched her tongue, the gecko’s mouth snapped shut with wide eyes and a volley of chirps she nearly escaped this time were it not for the servant’s secure hold on the reins.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s alright,” the servant cooed, stroking the gecko’s back and looking at Gilmyn. “Don’t worry - she’ll get used to the reins. Do you want to help me put her saddle on?”

“Yes!” Nodding enthusically, Gilmyn stood up as the servant did. She placed the gecko on the floor who was already straining at the reins. A few firm tugs had the animal at her heel and brought at the room to a heavy table. Tying the reins about a leg, the servant was now free to use her arms.

Whilst the gecko paced back and forth, apparently trying to lug the table with her, the servant picked up the saddle Gilmyn had been dragging across the floor.

“So have you thought of a name for her yet?” The servant enquired of the toddler who had charged across the room to stand on bouncing feet beside his new pet. Gilmyn was silent for a moment, looking at the ground and his gecko in intense concentration before his eyes lit up.

“Scuttle!” he proclaimed, clearly very pleased with his choice as if it were the greatest name to have ever been thought up.

“Scuttle…” the servant chuckled, shaking her head. How like Gilmyn to name something after food and yet also pick something that described a characteristic of the animal. “That’s a very good name!”

Kneeling down, she had Gil stand back whilst she placed the saddle atop the reptile’s back and forwards. Lifting Scuttle up so her back was pressing against the servant, the Dunmer held the straps out.

“Can you tighten the buckle for me?”

Nodding quickly, Gilmyn rushed forwards to grab the straps. In his excitement he yanked them a tad too much, pulling Scuttle towards him as he fed the strap through the gleaming metal buckle he secured it perhaps a couple of holes too tight. All the while Scuttle was squirming and chirping.

“Aww, she’s excited!” the servant smiled as she quickly adjusted the buckle. Setting Scuttle back down, the servant watched for a moment as the gecko dashed back and forth before opting to rest underneath the table. Clearly this animal was raring to go, she would just have to wait a few more minutes.

Turning to Gilmyn she nodded at a chest. “Open that, your gear is in there.” Gilmyn let out a shriek of delight, running across to a small chest and flinging open. Another yell of joy echoed throughout the room as Gilmyn dragged out a suit of protective, padded clothing in the style of Redoran guard’s armour and matching helmet. Immediately the boy was trying to fit himself into the ‘armour’ rather unsuccessfully.

Laughing merrily, the servant wended her way across the room. “Come here you,” she was trying not to loose herself to laughter as Gilmyn had somehow managed to get stuck in his ‘armour’. Rescuing him from its hold, the servant soon had Gilmyn in the ‘armour’ proper. Securing the helmet about his head, the servant nodded. “There you go, you look like a proper little guard now.”

Beaming with pride, Gilmyn bounded back over to Scuttle who started chirping once more as she ran about the table. Running back over, the servant placed an arm on Gil.

“Just a moment, Gilmyn, we need to untie her and then you can ride her.” By now Gilmyn was impatient to be off and was trying to untie the reins before charging over to Scuttle and flinging himself onto her. Gripping the saddle, he was once again bouncing up and down as Scuttle chirped louder and  started to run in a circle.

Sighing in hopelessness, the servant shook her head before shortening the reins so she could check Gilmyn’s feet were secured in the stirrups and his ‘armour’ clipped into the saddle.

“Alright, here are the reins.” The servant passed the reins over Scuttle’s head to place them in Gilmyn’s hands whilst keeping a firm grip on the saddle. “Keep inside the manor for now, alright. Don’t want you getting lost now do we? Now go and have fun, show the guards the new recruit!”

With that she released Scuttle and the two were off and out the door as a laughing, shrieking and chirping rainbow blur.