The_Deadliest_Troll
Melon Lord
What was Taken, What was Lost
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TABLE of CONTENTS:
Chapter 1: Iron Doors and Iron Jaws
Chapter 2: What was Taken
Chapter 3: Lucine and the Thief
-Iron Doors and Iron Jaws-
"Wake up, scum!”
It smelled like piss. Not the good kind of piss either, if ever there was such a thing. This was the kind of piss that must have been festering in a corner for longer than the roaming trees of Valenwood had born leaves. It was a stinging smell, like something toxic to the senses. This stench burned into Eärendur’s face suddenly, causing his eyes to water, although they were firmly shut.
There was a creaking sound like metal against metal. “Ye hear me, elf bastard?” The Nord’s accent was thick. A sharp pain went in waves up and down Eärendur’s side as something struck his ribs. He stirred and finally looked up at the Riften guard, towering over him and rearing his leg back for a second kick.
“I hear you.” Eärendur sighed as he sat up on the cold, stone floor, holding his arms in front of himself as if to block the still potential kick from this guard. “I just wasn’t interested in accepting the reality of the situation.” Thankfully, the guard placed his boot back on the stone and crossed his arms.
This cell was certainly nothing to brag about. The walls themselves seemed to drip whatever was making it stink in the place, and the darkness of the place seemed to engulf everything but the hopelessness. He’d only been thrown into it just last night, but Eärendur felt that after the blackness of that night that he had been there for ages. Even the lines of this guard’s face spoke of the direness and tired nature of this place; a prisoner of occupation.
The stench was bad, and the feeling this place gave one, worse. But what had to be the most awful thing about this prison were the screams. Deep in the fullness of night, Eärendur heard them: men crying out as if they were children and some that must have been experiencing pain unimaginable. It truly was a terror of a thing, and Eärendur thought that surely if he were to ever leave this place, he would not be the same elf that he was.
He had no more time to dwell on these things. The guard that had been standing there almost statue-like was now joined by another, younger looking guard who walked right to Eärendur. This man took hold oh him by the collar of his ragged shirt and heaved him to his feet. “Up!” the guard grunted.
“Excuse me,” said Eärendur, startled by this event, “might I ask where we are going, lads?” The harshness of the guard’s movement had caused Eärendur’s shirt to rub quite uncomfortably against his neck.
The two dragged him with little effort past dreadfully rusty looking iron bars that made up the front of the cell he had found his new home in this cold land. Eärendur noticed that they had taken his shoes. His bare feet dragged across the ground and his heels felt the force of every bump and ridge as the two dragged him along backwards. “Ye have an appointment with the Iron-Jaw.” The older one called over his shoulder, trying to sound more menacing than he really did. These guards exchanged glances for a moment and continued trudging along down the hall toward a foreboding iron door.
“Iron-Jaw, eh?” Eärendur chuckled at the ring of the words.
“Aye, the captain of the guard.” It was true. Jorn Iron-Jaw was the newly appointed Captain of the Guard in Riften. The Jarl had him hired to put an end to the Thieves’ Guild once and for all and by any and all means needed. He had done everything to fit the shoes, aside from eliminating the Guild that is. He had, as of late become a desperate man. Eärendur had heard the stories among the street-crawlers of the city since he had entered its gates, but thought that was all they were; stories. Now, he thought, he might have right to worry.
This unfortunate party of three neared the door with each heavy step the guards took. At first it only seemed that the hall, lined with mossy walls and frightful cells filled with more frightful residents was getting darker the further they went. But in truth, the walls here held far less torches than where Eärendur was housed only minutes before. The folk inside the cells here were pale and thin, their hair grown long and wild. Eärendur couldn’t see them until they hurried to the bars of their cells as the three passed and reached out their hands, begging for something they didn’t know they wanted and didn’t expect to get. The fingernails on these slimy, ghostly hands that hadn’t fallen off were long and dirty. Some whimpered words like, “Please.” Or “Help.” Others only growled and grumbled as if the perpetual night had stolen their language.
Some of the hands got too close and the guards took heavy swats at them. Yelps almost like animals began ringing out through some of the cells and left Eärendur’s stomach feeling very uncomfortable. Then, a crackling and a light of torches seemed to fill the void out of nowhere. Two torches sat on either side of Iron-Jaw’s door. A heavy knock on the metal and then a barely audible bellow marked their entry into the room. Eärendur felt as if he would have rather been left to these animalistic prisoners out in the hall. In dealing with animals, he had much experience. The matters of Nords and their laws were quite new to him.
He was placed in a wooden chair and his hands bound, and then a loud slam of the door as the guards left Eärendur alone in the Iron-Jaw’s room. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the light of the room. This was a plain room: very small with two chairs and a wooden table in the center. On the table sat a single steel dagger. And across the table from him sat Jorn Iron-Jaw, the Captain of the Guard.
It was clear to Eärendur why they must call this man the Iron-Jaw. His face was aged and it seemed his jaw was clenched so tightly that Eärendur was surprised his teeth didn’t turn to dust under the weight of it. This made him look eternally angry, or perhaps he was. His head was cleanly shaven and a scar like a memory of a stinging blade ran across his face diagonally. He made no movement but to raise his eyebrows at his new wood elf guest.
His blue eyes seemed to burn the elf right through. They looked into him more than he liked and it made him feel almost feverish. He looked down toward his hands; tied together and resting in his lap. A layer of dirt covered his tan, Bosmer skin. His forearms seemed smeared with grease and sweat. Then, a strand of his brown, shoulder length hair fell over his face and he looked back up, meeting the searching gaze of the Iron-Jaw with his own redish, piercing eyes.
“Do you know why you are here, wood elf?” The Iron-Jaw said in a deep voice seemingly without releasing his jaw.
“Erm,” Eärendur was trying with all his might not to show fear to this man, “attempted pick-pocketing, sir?”
“Right, well that is your evident crime.” The intimidating man stood, revealing that he was as tall as he was wide. He paced back behind the seat that Eärendur sat in, clapping his hands in an aggressive way with each step. He spoke suddenly as if deciding to get to a point he was trying to make, “I have reason to believe that you are a Guild member gone rouge.” Laughing softly, he walked heavily back to the side of the table where Eärendur sat and the two made eye contact again. He picked up the dagger from the table, playing with its tip with his thumb and continued, “I am here to get information from you on your organization...” The dagger was slammed down violently in front of Eärendur, the blade piercing the wood of the table just inches from the edge. “by any means I see fit.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I-“ Eärendur was cut short by the iron door of the room being slammed open and the younger guard from before pushing himself in.
“Apologies sir,” he sounded short of breath, “she wouldn’t let us stop her, she just-“
“Out of my way!” There was a woman’s voice entering the room. Eärendur turned his head just in time to see a young and beautiful Bosmer woman walking in dressed in a fine-looking silk tunic. He wondered who this woman could be to make Nord men tremble. Surely, things were about to become interesting if they were not already.