A/N:Sorry if this appears twice here. This is a story I wrote a while ago starring my friend, SiofraTural's, character Carth and my character Theseus, both of whom are from a roleplay group on another site. The title is a reference to Fiddler's Green in nautical lore.

It was dusk when Theseus and Carth neared the gates of Bravil, the dying light of the sun painting their armor in hues of orange and gold. The two men were quite weary, as were their horses, who strained under the weight of both their riders and the sacks of plunder secured to their backs. Fortunately, the travelers reached Bay Roan stables not long after, alighting from the weary creatures at last. Once the loot was removed from their mounts, the duo made their way towards the main gate, Theseus tossing a few coins at the stable hand as they passed him. Once they were within the city proper, they hastened in the direction of The Fair Deal, letting their sacks fall to the floor with a thud and rubbing their aching spines.

“What have you boys brought me this time?” Nilawen, the proprietor, questioned, bending down to examine the sacks. Cups and goblets lie nestled among small piles of gold and gems that glittered in the light streaming through the windows of the small shop, and Nilawen gingerly picked up a ruby to get a better look at it. No cracks marred its beauty, the surface as smooth and flawless as glass. The rest of the items were in the same condition, causing the Bosmer to wonder where exactly Theseus and Carth had procured such wealth, but she knew better than to ask. She had dealt with them many times, the adventurers reluctant to recount their stories. Although she thought this unusual, Nilawen considered it somewhat refreshing to not have someone coming into her store spouting some outlandish tale.

After she was through she gestured for them to help bring the sacks behind the counter. Once that was done Nilawen counted out their reward, dividing it into two sacks like she usually did. Thanking her, they left the store and trudged towards the inn, ready to invest their newfound wealth in a room and a hot meal. As it was Carth’s turn to pay for their lodging, he withdrew the relevant funds from his purse. Thankfully, the price wasn’t steep, and the two men were soon seated at a table near the hearth, shoveling food and drink into their mouths as fast as they could without seeming like animals. The fare was not the finest in Tamriel, but that mattered little to their stomachs.

“Hey, did you see that ghost last night?” an Argonian a few tables down from them asked, causing Theseus to pause in his eating.

“No, and I don’t care,” the lizard’s Orc companion stated, taking a swig of his mead.

“Don’t you even wonder what he’s staring at?”

“The water. He’s staring at the water.”

“Ha ha. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“My common sense kicked it out.”

“Come on, I want to investigate and I need someone to go with me.”

“No. Also, I wouldn’t advise you to go running around at night with that injury of yours.”

“It’s just a flesh wound!”

“You’re lucky your arm is still attached.”

As the pair bickered back and forth Theseus couldn’t help but become interested. The Imperial tried not to pay any more attention the subject, but it wouldn’t leave his mind. The more he tried to push it away, the more forcefully it pushed back. He had to find out more about this ghost. Perhaps the innkeeper knew about him. When his plate was bare of any morsel of food and his tankard was empty he stood up from the table and walked over to the proprietor, Gilgondorin.

“Excuse me.”

“Yes?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about a ghost that stares out at the Bay, would you?”

“Oh, you mean the Forlorn Watchman. The Watchman looks like he may have been a sailor. No one knows where he came from, or why he looks so sad. I don’t like talking about the dead like they’re some kind of tourist attraction, but that spirit has been making his ghostly journey for years now. We’ve learned to just accept that he’s there. Every night, sure as clockwork, he appears at Banwatch Camp at eight on the shore of Niben Bay. He’s never harmed anyone, but most people give him a wide berth. You seem curios enough, so I’ll be glad to pinpoint where he appears on your map.”

Once Gilgondorin had marked the location Theseus sat back down at his table, where Carth was just finishing up his meal. He glanced over at the parchment spread across the table, wondering why Theseus had it out. Then Carth saw the glint in Theseus’ eyes and his face contorted into an expression honed over years of Theseus dragging him into one adventure after another. The Imperial noticed this and the two spent a few moments in absolute silence, each wanting to speak their mind but hesitant at the same time.

“No.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“I’ve known you since childhood. You want to run off and explore some creepy dungeon again, right?

“No, nothing like that.”

Carth relaxed a little.

“Then what were you going to suggest?”

“There’s a specter called the Forlorn Watchman that stares out at the Nibenay Bay. I want to know why this is.”

Tension shot through the Redguard-Breton hybrid once more.

“Are you crazy?! Bandits and trolls are bad enough, but now you want to go chasing after ghosts?!”

"We wouldn’t have to chase him anywhere. He appears right at this spot.”

“What do plan on doing when we get there? Invite him to the tavern for a drink?”

“Very funny. All we have to do is just stand near him and see if he says anything. Besides, Gilgondorin says he’s never harmed anyone.”

“Yet,” Carth retorted. “For all we know he could have been waiting around for a couple of adventurers to come within striking distance.”

“Oh, come now, Carth. Don’t be such a bore,” Theseus said with a smirk.

Carth’s eyes widened before narrowing slightly.

“Do you want everyone to know about my little problem?” he whispered sharply. “Besides, you’re one to talk, for someone who wolfs down their food so quickly.”

“That’s not funny.”

“What? Can’t take what you dish out?”

“Alright, I’ll stop. Can we please go, though? There might be treasure. Do you really want to turn down money?”

“Fine,” Carth huffed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “If I die somehow, though, you’re paying for my funeral.”

Carth shivered as the cold night air bit through his cloak, forcing himself to help Theseus row the small boat across the bay. He desperately hoped that there was treasure involved somehow, because if there wasn’t he was going to chase Theseus across Tamriel for dragging him away from the warmth of the inn. His arms soon grew stiff and sore, but he eventually saw a small campsite by the light of the lantern hanging from the boat’s bow. After that, it wasn’t long before they reached the shore.

With wobbly legs they disembarked from the vessel, Theseus snatching the lantern from its hook as the duo made their way up to the camp. It was far from impressive, with only a battered tent and long dead campfire to boast of. Theseus and Carth wasted no time in gathering what little wood they could find around the camp, throwing it into the pit. Then Theseus removed a gauntlet with one hand, biting his lower lip to keep from crying out as the cold weather hit his flesh.

Closing his eyes slightly he concentrated on the image of a fire, until he nearly felt the heat from it. He then allowed that heat to flow through his limbs and out his fingertips, igniting the wood and starting a small blaze. After replacing the gauntlet, he joined Carth in huddling by the fire, watching for any sign of the ghost.

For hours they stared into the blackness from within their own little circle of light until, at last, the specter came into view. Theseus quickly grabbed a bucket of dirt and tossed it onto the fire,extinguishing the flames. He gestured for Carth to follow him, the two men drawing closer and closer to the Watchman. Suddenly he moved, his steps gliding over the ground like the air itself, a sharp contrast to the heavy thud of Theseus and Carth’s boots.Amidst the low droning of insects and the soft hoot of owls they followed him through the sea of grass. When they neared a fort that still stood despite its inhabitants having passed into Aetherius long ago, the ghost turned around, staring at them with a sorrowful expression.

“I was once the man known as Grantham Blakely,” he spoke in a voice that chilled their blood. “Look for me in the mouth of the panther. Please…release me.”

With that he vanished into the night, as if he had never been.

“Mouth of the panther?” Carth asked after a few moments, his voice somewhat shaky. “Isn’t that near Leyawiin?”

“Yes, but it’s not too far from here either. Let’s go.”

“He might be luring us into a trap.”

“True, but I doubt it. He sounded like he needed our help.”

“Of course he did! That’s how ghosts get you!”

Theseus rolled his eyes and continued on, at which Carth uttered a string of curses and caught up to his friend. They had little trouble on their journey, save for a few wolves that were easily dealt with. Soon they saw the remains of a once great vessel partially submerged in the water, its ribs eerily reminiscent of a human’s. The name “Emma May” was carved into it’s side, the letters, like the rest of the ship, decayed from the fury the elements had unleashed upon it. A large hole gaped open at them like the maw of some horrific beast, and it was with trepidation they plunged into its blackness.

The ship seemed like a silent tomb to them as they walked its halls, noting that the inside was just as worn and beaten as the outside. Stacks of supplies, long since fallen into disrepair, lined nearly every inch of the area, interrupted only by a handful of cots with moth eaten covers. Theseus kept his free hand on his silver sword, Carth gripping his own enchanted bow so tightly his knuckles turned white. When they approached the door, Theseus cautiously opened it, revealing it to be a private bunk. Save for a cot, a table and chair was the sole furniture in the room, a book of some sort resting on the table’s surface. Theseus set the lantern on it and picked up the tome, wrinkling his nose as dust drifted off from the pages upon opening it. Carth looked over Theseus’ shoulder in order to read the writing.

….after taking aboard a few more crates in Leyawiin, Captain Laughton pointed the May north towards the Imperial City. We pleaded with him to wait until next morn, but he insisted on continuing despite the look of the sky. Let it be known that this decision was his.

Tuesday, 14 Last Seed, 3E421

Wasn’t long before the May hit the storm. It was just as we suspected, far too dangerous to sail though. With the last bit of daylight disappearing, Navigator Quillan spotted an inlet off the starboard bow. The Captain ordered the wheelman to steer towards the inlet in hopes of getting the May out of Niben Bay. It was at that moment Gable gave me the signal and we struck. He’d always had an eye for the Captain’s position, and with the chaos going on, this was a better time than any.Only that idiot, Blakely, was still loyal to the Captain, but the rest of us wanted the May. The fight lasted maybe a minute or two. Blakely and Laughton knew the fighting was futile. We tossed them down below and now Captain Gable has set the May on course for the inlet. Hopefully we can get her secured for a while and then…

Theseus closed the journal, exchanging it for the lantern.

“So that’s what happened to him,” Carth stated. “At least now we know why he looked so depressed.”

“We should head down below since that’s where Blakely’s corpse is. Hopefully we can find a way to free him.”

They turned to leave the room, only to freeze when they saw the translucent form of a sailor blocking the doorway. Blank, hollow eyes stared at them from within a frame so emaciated that the illusion of flesh barely clothed it. The ghost’s expression was devoid of all empathy, any trace of his humanity gone along with his life. He snarled at Carth and Theseus, a rusted cutlass held aloft in one hand. Theseus gripped the pommel of his sword and Carth’s hand fingered the string of his bow, both waiting for the specter to make a move.

“How dare you two come into my sight again. You, O Captain, and your pet Blakely have caused enough pain and torment to the souls aboard this ship. I know not how you have escaped your prison, but I vow to the gods above you will suffer in torment for what you did!”

Theseus barely got his sword out of its scabbard fast enough in time to block the ghost’s own blade, sorely regretting that he had forgotten to bring his shield. Behind him, he heard Carth release an arrow, which soon embedded itself in the ghost’s sword arm, giving Theseus the opportunity to launch his own attack. With all haste he slashed at the ghost’s torso, causing it to stagger before once more swinging his cutlass through the air. Theseus was not fast enough this time, the cutlass biting through the armor and leaving a grisly wound on his hip. Once more he lunged at his opponent, and once more the ghost blocked his sword, sparks flying from where the metal contacted. Carth fired another arrow, which launched itself in the ghost’s eye. Wasting no time, Theseus lifted his blade high and drove it into the sailor’s chest. The wraith moaned in agony before fading away, leaving only a pile of ectoplasm behind.

The two rushed into the ship’s hall, only to be confronted by more ghosts who screamed the names of men long dead. Blades danced and arrows sung as Theseus and Carth engaged in battle, using all the strength and cunning to send the lost souls back to the grave. They were outnumbered, and were barely able to hold their ground against the spectres. Both lost count of how many times a ghost landed a blow to their sore and bloody frames, thankful their armor provided the protection it did, although Carth’s leather armor did not provide as much protection as Theseus’ steel plate. More souls awaited them below and were defeated only through great and terrible effort, but at last they gained access to the third and final level of the ship. Both turned their eyes to a door only a few feet away, eagerly approaching it before yet another ghost stopped them.

“Ah, so two warriors have come to free the souls of Captain Laughton and Grantham Blakely. Well I know that you are not they, for, unlike my crewmen, I see clearly. Tell me, heroes, what makes you think you can stand against Gable?”

We have defeated the others. You are no different,” Theseus replied.

"The ghost laughed.

“We shall see.”

Gable held a hand aloft, summoning a ball of light green energy and launching it at the two men, who jumped out of the way just as it hit, leaving charred wood in its wake. Theseus unleashed a war cry as he rushed towards Gable, managing to land a blow to his stomach. Gable hissed in pain, swinging his cutlass downward. Theseus moved to block the blade but was unsuccessful, earning a deep cut on his left shoulder. As Gable was about to continue his assault, an arrow struck him in the neck, ectoplasm oozing from the wound. Carth continued to fire arrow after arrow at the ghost while Theseus struck as fast and hard as he could, ignoring the blood staining the armor he wore. Finally Gable grew tired of the fray and launched two streams of energy from his hands at Theseus and Carth, who were on either side of him. They were slammed against the sides of the ship, groaning as they slumped to the ground. Gable strode over to Carth, picking him up by his throat and holding him high in the air.

“I shall deal with you first, archer,” he spat, tightening his grip.

Theseus gazed in horror at the sight, wanting badly to save his friend but knowing that Gable was too strong to be defeated by blade or arrow. That left him only one choice. Theseus called upon his beast blood, feeling the breaking of bone and the stretching of sinew. With a howl he launched himself at Gable, causing the ghost to release Carth. The archer shifted into his own beast form, joining Theseus in assaulting Gable with tooth and claw. It was true that Hircine was not the most benevolent of the Daedric Princes, but the power he bestowed upon mortals was indeed great. Even Gable, try as he might, could not stand against the sheer ferocity of the beasts, and was soon pinned down, struggling all the while. Kneeling, Theseus hovered over Gable before plunging a claw into his chest and pulling out the center of his essence. Gable shrieked as his form dissolved, the cries echoing off the wooden walls after he passed. Amidst his ghostly remains were three keys.Theseus shifted into human form along with Carth, inserting a key into the door. There before them lay the remains of Captain Laughton and Grantham Blakely, shackled to a pole. Theseus and Carth released the corpses from their bindings, the ghosts of the two men appearing before them.

“Thank you for releasing us,” Captain Laughton said. “It pains me that Gable and my crew mutinied against me. However, I take comfort in the fact that Blakely stood by me and that you brave men have assisted us.”

“I knew one day someone with unyielding virtue would heed my words and hasten our release,” Blakely stated. “You two risked much to perform such a selfless act. This noble deed will not go unrewarded. Look upon the ground in this prison. There you will find a map to our gratitude. We thank you with all our hearts. Farewell.”

The two sailors then faded away, leaving Carth and Theseus alone. Theseus took the piece of parchment in his hands, noting with joy that it was a treasure map. The duo retraced their steps, retrieving the lantern as they went, again breathing the fresh air of Cyrodiil. Not too far from where the ship stood, they found the marker that indicated where the treasure was. Using shovels they had found aboard the Emma May they dug until they hit a wooden chest with a hoard of gems nestled within red velvet lining. They lugged the chest back to their boat, making sure to rest when their load became too heavy. At last the two warriors reached the vessel. Eagerly they pushed out to sea, the lights of Bravil glowing in the distance.

“I told you there was treasure.”

“Shut up.”