Finding My Place. Part 2

• Posted by Lolindir June 14, 2012 - 536 views

  PAIN. I've never felt so much pain in my life. It's a wonder that I survived it all. It seems like I was in that throne room for days. Just kneeling there as that monster had his goons beat me repeatedly. Shouting something about the Thalmor and being an assassin. I tried to plead with him and tell him that I was no assassin or that I was even remotely involved with the Thalmor. But the Nords here are stubborn. And most are blinded by their hatred and lust for power. Whoever this man was, this Stormcloak fellow, he was by far the worst of them.

  They brought me down to the dungeon and had me thrown into one of the cells. And I mean that in the most literal sense. After my captors left and I was left alone on the cold stone ground, I didn’t even attempt to move. Instead I lied there and allowed the cold stone to somewhat sooth my aching body. I eventually get up and walk to the iron cage door. I rest my forehead against the rusty bars, the fresh taste of blood fills my mouth. I muster up what strength I can just to spit and purge the taste of blood from my mouth.

  “Hey! Do you mind?” an old scraggly voice shouts. I jolt back from shock. I thought I was alone! I look around but see no one. “I know that the guards hate me, but it seems as if the guards and the gods hate you friend.” The voice says again. By now I can tell that the voice is coming from the cell beside me.

  “The gods don’t hate me. Just these damn Nords.” I replied. There was a long silence and then I saw a flash of light coming from the left of my caged door. It was the prisoner next to me. He was holding a small shard of glass that he was using to look at me through my reflection. It then became apparent to me that I had spat blood on it just a few moments before.

  “I’d have to disagree elf. If the gods didn’t hate you, you wouldn’t be here.” The tone in his voice had shifted to a much more serious one. “And what about you?” I asked. “Do the gods hate you as well?” I was now looking at him through the same shard of glass he used to look at me. I could tell that he was a nord, very advanced in age. He looked thin and frail and appeared as if he had been here so long, that the prison was constructed around him.

  “Oh no, the gods don’t hate me son. I’m hated by something much, much worse.” He replied in a prophetic tone. I thought him a loon but out of sheer curiosity I replied. “What are you hated by?” The old man laughed, “A woman my dear boy. A woman.” Despite my pain and recent misfortune, I couldn’t help but laugh. My laughter must have triggered his because for a solid minute we laughed.

  “What’s you name boy?” the old man said as he started to calm down. “Lolindir” I replied.

  “And you can call me Skeever.” He said. I paused for a second and looked out of my cage. “Skeever?” I started “that’s your name?” It seemed like before I finished my words he was speaking again. “I never said that was name ice-brain I said that’s what you can call me!” he lashed out angrily. I had obviously stuck a sore spot. “Fair enough. I said not to upset him.

  “So Skeever, why are you here?” I asked. The old man let out a heavy sigh and began “I told you I was here because of a woman. And that’s all you need to know.” Seeing as how we were going to be roommates for Arkay knows how long, I saw no point in arguing.

  After some time of silence in the empty prison I could hear the old man stirring. He walked up to the iron door and stuck his hand out towards my cell. “Come here boy.” He whispered. I obliged him and proceeded to the corner of the cell. “Take this.” He said. I felt a small bump on my foot and when I looked down I picked up metal rod. “What is it?” I asked curiously. “Are you blind boy? It’s a Lockpick.” I knew what it was, but I wasn’t quite sure as to why he was giving it to me.

  “Take that and pick the lock. Then come pick mine. Cause tonight, we’re getting out of here.”

  I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. But I really didn’t seem to have much of a choice. It was either try to break out and possibly be killed in the process, or stay and hope they didn’t kill me the next time they came to question me.

  “Let’s say I get the lock open. And that I get yours open as well.” I began to say. “Then what? You think they will just let us walk right out here?” I scolded the man. I hear a small giggle, then a reply. “Damn son, I thought you elves were supposed he intelligent. Trust me, I have a plan.”

  I find it rather ironic that a balding old nord who has been in jail longer than I’ve been alive is having a hard time believing that I find it difficult to trust him. But I really had no choice in the matter. I’d rather die trying to escape than be kept alive by these monsters.

  On through the night I carefully try my hand at picking the lock, doing my best to not break it. My attempts were pacified by the very little guard patrols. It was late in the night when I finally sprung the lock. “Now mine! Hurry!” the man whispered as loudly as he could. But just at that time an unexpected guard patrol of two men enter the room.

  “Hey!” one of them yells as they sprint over towards me. The guard draws his dagger and lunges at me. I side step him and catch his swing, throwing him into the iron door. Skeever grabs the man from behind the bars and begins to choke him. The other man, not having drawn his weapon moves in on me. We engage in a brawl but the results are bad. I am struck to the ground and the guard draws his sword. I am exhausted, bloodied, and beaten. And I lie there awaiting my fate.

  The guard lifts the sword above his head but before it could come down, he froze. A dagger had pierced his chest and blood dripped from his body. The nord fell to his knees and then to his face, pushing the dagger nearly all the way through his body. I look back to see Skeever standing behind the iron door with the body of the first guard lying at his feet.

  
  “Grab the keys and let’s get the hell out of here!” He cried. I promptly did as he said. After unlocking his cell we undressed the guards and used their uniforms. Lucky for us they were wearing helms. We used that to conceal our faces. Trying to hide as much of the blood as we could, we stashed their bodies in the cells we just came from. We walked up the dark stairs and came to a wooden door.

  “On the other side is the guards’ barracks.” Skeever whispered. “Just stay close and follow my lead.” I took a deep breath and we proceeded into the barracks.