The Dunmer had, true to his nature, spent most of the journey quiet, trying to arrange his thoughts on the recent developments to find some peace of mind, despite knowing all too well that what he was doing was futile. Ever since Hector had first informed him of the mission, and showed him those documents, Balen had feeling unease and elation at the same time (or perhaps, two emotions had simply wrenched more power than usual), which [i]proved[/i] to himself (Balen liked using absolute terms about himself, since relativity meant uncertainty, and Balen was not comfortable admitting that he wasn’t certain about his very own thoughts and feelings) once again that he was a mer of contradictions. 

There was a certain appreciation to be found in this mission for Balen, just as there was a certain appreciation to be found in everything that filled a sapient being with emotions – the body liked the action, the hormones, and the adrenaline. Balen, having long since accepted his body as a burden that he was to take care of, just like an unwanted child or your superior’s pet, found its constant, self repeating and purposeless desires (such as action or adventure) uncomfortable, yet also necessary, since his body was (at least for now – he had yet to receive any answers from his attempts to contact the Psijic Order, or find that fabled tome on using ectoplasm as a vessel to leave the body) what was sustaining his existence. Thus was Balen, locked in passive hostility against his flesh, akin to two exhausted warriors just staring at each other, unwilling to give up but too exhausted to continue fighting.

He got up from the fallen tree trunk he had been sitting on, and stretched his torso and arms back and forth in an attempt to shake away his constant and clouding thoughts, and began scanning his surroundings to keep his mind busy. Indeed, there were many objects to be distracted by – the relatively alien and untamed look of Valenwood, while nowhere as mind-boggling and awesome as the light-refracting, illusory towers of the Summerset Isles, was still enough to keep his mind busy. Alinor, by Anu, Alinor… He took a look at the river in an attempt to retrace the gleaming lights of the city’s skyline (A skyline! What other city had a skyline?) in the whirling reflections of light in the water, but unfortunately for Balen, night had not set yet, and thus, all he saw was a blurry image of himself, more than enough to disappoint.

‘’I hope she comes,’’ Hector repeated. Balen felt a tinge of discomfort in his voice, which he attributed to the wait for the guide, and his choice of attire contrasting with the climate, both of which were valid points in his opinion. Balen saw Hector as a simple man, relatively at peace with himself, unlike Balen, whose melancholy had been wrought into him to a degree that he occasionally entertained himself by thinking of scary things such as consciousness after death. The duo’s friendship, if it could be called that, was a source of bewilderment for the Dunmer. The two personalities had almost nothing in common, save an interest in board games – even the circumstances in which they were met were as inauspicious as a hymn to Molag Bal in a shrine to Arkay. Then again, considering that they only met whenever there was some danger to be overcome, perhaps their friendship had been created by the circumstances.

‘’Well, she’s Bosmer,’’ Balen muttered slowly as he sat back down, as if his mind was too busy with other things. ‘’Might be watching us from amongst the tall grass. Might be hiding between the tree leaves.’’ He picked up a broken, little branch from the ground and began drawing lines into the muddy soil to pass the time. ‘’Might be hiding under the soil.’’ He stuck the branch into the ground, and let it go. ‘’But I have a feeling she’ll come around, one way or another.’’ He tried to whistle quietly, but interrupted himself after he saw Sibassius grasping onto his sword’s grip. Balen’s hand instinctively pulled his walking cane closer to himself, and looked at the other side of the river after hearing Sibassius’ question.

‘’Short, primitive,’’ Balen replied. ‘’Has pointy ears.’’

He felt like such a dick sometimes.