"We have you at last, blood-sucker," snarled a Nord woman covered in a strange, tiled, ceramic armor.
"Blood-sucker?" I slurred in a daze. The light from the sun was bright, and I squinted, my eyes sore as I moved them. It had been some weeks since I'd left my home during the day as I spent most of that time researching and continuing to fail to produce any kind of conjured form. I recoiled against the morning light, hating the way it illuminated the dark places of my mind with its probing fingers. Somewhere beyond my feet, Meeko barked rabidly. I heard the jangling of a chain and the creaking of what could only have been my fence. One of my chickens dashed by, clucking in terror.
"Stretch her out. I want a clean kill. Not like last time, Durak," spoke a second woman above me. She was a Bosmer with a tired, drawn look about her as if she'd been fighting a losing battle for years uncounted.
"Tsh. Squeamish elves."
"Durak!"
"Yeah, yeah. Don't get yer knickers in a twist," said a gravelly male voice from before. A pair of rough hands bound my hands to a sword plunged into the ground, then a boot stepped on my legs. I struggled feebly, still unable to fully comprehend what had happened. Air whistled faintly into my lungs as I regained the wind that had been knocked out of me. My eyes closed reflexively against an even brighter glimmer. In the afterimage left on my eyelids, I saw the gleaming head of an axe. The peril of my position finally sank in.
"Wait!" I cried, "What are you doing? I'm not--"
"Stow it. We know what you are, and exterminating your pestilent kind from the world is our only concern," barked the Nord.
"But I'm not--" I struggled in earnest as Durak raised his axe to strike. "Please! Stop this!" The bindings bit into my wrists and I attempted to free my hands, and the Orc's boot crushed my shins painfully. Suddenly my cheek stung and throbbed as the Nord's boot connected with my head.
"I said silence! I want no part of your pitiful cries!"
"Wait, Ingjard. Something's not right here," murmured the mer quietly. Her eyes looked doubtful and somewhat alarmed.
"Beleval, I'm not holding this axe aloft any longer than I have to. Let's just kill her and be done with it," grumbled the Orc, flexing his shoulder. Something wet trickled down the side of my cheek into my ear. Down the hill towards the road, I heard a faint voice singing.
"Help! Someone help!" I cried, trashing wildly. The singing voice became a little clearer and sounded vaguely familiar. A half-remembered dream.
"Kill her now, Durak! No witnesses, remember?" Ingjard hissed, her eyes darting back toward the road worriedly.
"No, wait." Beleval held out an arm to stop the descent of the axe.
"What is it now?" groaned the Orc.
"Her eyes. They're...normal."
"So? It's probably a glamour."
Delicate fingers probed my lips, pulling them away from my teeth. "We should leave. Now. This is no vampire, and if word gets out we've assaulted a civilian, we'll never hear the end of it," the mer said with a frown.
"What! Have you been bewitched, Bele? You've heard the stories!" exclaimed the Nord,
"What if they're wrong?"
"I'm not a vampire! Those stories are lies!" I fairly squawked, continuing to struggle against my bonds. The sound of shoes crunching on loose gravel grew louder as did the musical voice. The song was one I had heard in taverns over the course of my travels and assignments. It was my song. Suddenly, there was hope.
"Gwaihen! It's me!" cried the voice, pausing mid-verse. His footsteps stopped and there was an intake of breath. "Oh...my..."
"Help me! These lunatics are trying to kill me!" I shouted, unable to tamp down the panic flooding my mind.
"What are you doing to her?" Valindor asked, momentarily confused. When his eyes darted to the poised axe, he rushed forward, shoving the surprised women out of the way and seizing the axe. Durak gripped the weapon tightly and yanked it away from the mer, pushing him into the grass. Valindor latched on to the haft once more, throwing all of his weight into one stupendous yank. The weapon sailed away into the grass.
"You'll pay for that, little elf. You're impeding the Dawnguard's business, and we don't take kindly to that," the Orc glared, shoving the Bosmer to the ground.
"Durak, stand down. We're done here it seems. Our target was no more a vampire than you or I," Beleval ordered, kneeling to cut my bonds. She made to help me to my feet, but I swatted her reaching hands away irritably. Valindor recovered his own footing and gazed at me in confusion. I couldn't meet his eyes for very long, feeling a wellspring of pain and shame leaking somewhere inside of me when I did.
"Ingjard, why don't you and Durak release the hound and head back to town. I'll meet you there later." The Nord nodded and led her companion down the path towards Meeko, who snapped at them angrily. "I'd like to apologize for the...attempt on your life," the Bosmer said, her expression softening.
"You nearly broke down my door, assaulted me, bound me, and kicked me in the face in your 'attempt'," I spat hatefully, already wanting to be done with these strange people and their self-righteous approach. A fire rose in me such as I hadn't felt since the battle at Fort Dunstad, and though it lacked the maddening power from that night, its heat was encouraging, refreshing. "What in Oblivion gives you to the right to encroach upon my property and attack me in such a way?" I clenched my fists, feeling the desire to return the blow dealt to my face growing stronger with each passing moment.
"Be at peace. It was an honest mistake," she said passively.
"Honest mistake. You're telling me you actually believed what those women in the village gossip about?"
"Well...their story was very...compelling. Your activities certainly sounded...suspicious."
"What I do in my spare time is none of yours or anyone else's business," I ground out, fighting the blush rising to my cheeks.
"Gwaihen, what have you been doing out here to cause such rumors?" Valindor inquired, laying a gentle hand on my shoulder.
"Nothing you need to be concerned about," I muttered, looking away as my face burned hot then cold.
"Evidently, not anything vampiric it seems. Please, take this in compensation for the damage to your person and property," Beleval interjected, pushing a small purse of Septims into my hand. "If you ever need the Dawnguard's assistance, please seek me out. I'm truly sorry for the inconvenience this has caused you." Her expression pinched into a look of genuine concern, and I huffed in frustration as Meeko trotted over to lay protectively by my feet.
"Just leave," I sighed, wanting more than ever to crawl back into my hole and stay there. Life was easier when I didn't have to interact with others. Simpler. Cleaner. Glancing at the mer's retreating back, I caught a flash of Valindor's crooked smile of relief.
It was also terribly lonely.
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Could she be another Bosmer I like? Say it ain't so...