My mother whispered this verse to me in the days when we lived amongst the Dark Elves against our will: "Hidden from view Touched not by dew Sacred places wait." We Argonians have so little from the time before the Dunmer came. Stone relics, crumbling xanmeers, and an instinctive trust in the Hist. Since our return to Black Marsh, I've searched for these sacred places, hoping to recover more of our valuable past. "Do you remember that song?" I asked, when it was clear she would join our ancestors by nightfall. "Hidden from view …?" "Even me?"