Work Text:
The Kagouti and the Guar
An Ashlander Parable also known as The Chimer and the Saxhleel, by which title it has sparsely been sublimated by malcontent members of the Great Houses, particularly House Telvanni Presumably inspired by oral tradition and contact with rogue Tribunal-loathing Dunmer, the tale has recently been conducted into Dunmeri earshot by some especially fortunate-- and now very wealthy --merchants.
In the time before: before the wars, before the Pact and the Alliances, the Tribunal and the Three's betrayal, before even the great feint and advance of Nede and once-proud Mer-- beyond the reach of the vast archives of distant Merish recall --Tamriel was young and wild and whole. And, amid the burgeoning forests of the fledgling Nirn, the Kagouti and Guar were equals. But the Guar, you see, had grown quite bold; daring and fat and hale as he was fed, content upon the grass and shocks of tender sprouts that wove threadlike through the growing shadows of the Hist. The Kagouti, then, was left to scrounge upon the woody remnants. It continued this way for some time, until the Guar became so complacent that he neglected his customary worship of the good Daedra. Boethiah and Mephala, especially, took note. They held brief council and, after their deliberation, Boethiah deigned to speak to their subjects firsthand.
"Are you discontent?" began Boethiah, addressing the Kagouti first.
"No, mistress," answered the Kagouti, head stooped in reverence, "we want for nothing."
"And you, Guar?" Boethiah continued, head titled graciously in his direction.
"The plants' meat has been somewhat stringy, according to my taste," the Guar replied through lazy mouthfuls as he lounged upon the fertile loam, "But I suppose I can't complain."
"I see," Boethiah intoned, expression betraying nothing, "Then why, may I ask, is your voice absent from my subjects' nightly supplication?"
The Guar gave a half-hearted shrug, still slowly processing his meal. "The swamp satisfies all my needs," he answered after a lengthy pause, "It seems to me, I owe it far more gratitude than any blind obeisance I once offered you."
"Very well," Boethiah lilted, voice capricious but husky. The traces of a grin began to play darkly upon her lips.
"If I may," the Kagouti interjected, awaiting the Prince's response; she gave a quick nod, and he continued softly, a knowing expression shadowing his face, "the Guar is a fool, surely, but a harmless one. Do not punish him too severely, if you please? Let your curse be a light."
"Very well, Kagouti," Boethiah chuckled, her grin falling slightly, "For your tireless service." She turned towards the Guar, pronouncing her judgement: "From the swamp you arose, to the swamp you claim fealty, and to that murk you are henceforth bound. The swamp's fate is your own, and to its clutches you shall ever return, darkling and forgotten, overlooked by all those of merit."
The Guar nodded, unperturbed. "As you say, Prince," he obliged with relative disinterest, "I have every faith in your judgment."
"And you," Boethiah began anew, turning towards the Kagouti to the surprise of both parties, "for your vigilance you shall be elevated. No more will the Guar claim the tastiest morsels. No longer will you be contented with mere scraps. No honored servant of mine shall suffer so. You shall become vicious, powerful, fierce. You, my dear Kagouti, you shall be feared." As she spoke, tusks sprouted from the Kagouti's steadily growing head. Teeth grew like rows of daggers to fill its now expansive maw. Kagouti roared with delight, and it was a sight to behold.
The Guar retreated a pace, mouth gaping at Kagouti's transformation. A light flashed by the party's side, and though it bore the semblance of brightness, it crept and spread like shadows at high noon, blazing with a deep and sickly shade of morose violet. Mephala stood at the light's epicenter, her massive, chitinous legs twitching, her black engorged thorax swaying listlessly side-to-side. She offered Boethiah a sweet but petulant smile. "You have been too lenient to this wayward child," she chided, venom dripping absently from her fangs, "It will not do."
"As it were," Boethiah snickered, miming surprise but exuding amusement, "Do, then, as you will."
"Oh, I shall," hissed Mephala, extending a spiked and spindly leg towards the Guar, "You, dear child, shall suffer, suffer-- suffer well. You will bear your burden gladly, and what a burden it shall be! You-- and all your brethren --shall live in service all the days of your futile lives, clawing at unyielding soil for refuse and scraps and working those claws down to the bone, never to enjoy the fruits of your labor. You will struggle without reprieve. You will be hunted, and hounded, and used until your use is gone. Then you shall be discarded like the very refuse you consume." She eyed the Guar at length, satisfied with her decision. "For whatever folly they believe," the Spinner added, "all are but flies within my web." And with that, she was gone.
"Your fate is sealed," Boethiah told the now quivering Guar, and looked upon him no more. To her faithful servant, Kagouti, she turned and instructed through a smile, "Arise, my pet, and do your Prince proud. Show me your newfound teeth; feast, and eat your fill! The world is yours to conquer, and so shall it be, for time immemorial, so long as you stay true."
And so the Guar cowered, powerless in its swampland, and the Kagouti fed.