Chapter 10

It smelled damp, the distant sounds of water dripping echoed from beyond what he could see. The only light nearby spluttered from a group of nearly spent candles that hid in the corner of the room. Though, the longer he looked, the less it seemed like a room, and more resembled a cavern or roughly-dug tunnel.

Noren tried to sit up and move, but found that he was not able to. He could move his eyes, but that afforded him no better knowledge of his surroundings. He thought he could hear voices. None of them seemed familiar, nor could he make out what was being said. He could feel his heart beating faster in his chest as anxiety began to set in. Why couldn’t he move? He couldn’t feel any restraints. He couldn’t get enough air. His breathing became harder and harder as fear devolved into an unwilling, silent panic. The candle went out, plunging the cavern into a deep, oppressive blackness. he wanted to cry out. He wanted to scream. But no matter how hard he willed it, not a sound came. Only the continued whispers, which themselves were starting to fade away. If he had a body still he could not sense it. The only feelings he could sense were fear and isolation. “Kleppr! You good for nothing lay about! These bottles are all empty!”

The voice made him sit up so fast that his body cramped in response to the rapid movement. Noren could feel the sweat dripping down his face, his chest slamming as if he were running for his life. The dim light of his room was too close to the dark of his dream for his liking. With one last shudder, he stood to wash his face in the basin.

It would have been less disturbing if he hadn’t felt almost as if he weren’t alive. He had been thinking and aware, but there was no breathing. It had felt like the movements of breath, though his thinking back revealed no intake of air. The inability to move had been horrible. He hoped that the rest of his day would not be quite so distressing.

He made his way to the main hall, the gentle sounds of a lute stirring the air. Apart from the owners, who were still bickering about the state of the bar there was not much going on. Inigo sat at a table near the bard. He was humming out of tune with not an ounce of shame. The Nord Skald did not seem to mind. Inigo’s ears perked up when he heard Noren approaching.

“Good morning, my friend! It is good to see you awake. I was worried I would have to sit through the day here alone. He gave a toothy smile, making Noren forget all about the traumatic dreams.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“Please, do not feel sorry for me.” He chuckled. “Feel sorry for the poor souls who have had to endure my singing all morning. It has been said that I have the voice of a lark… which is on fire.”

Noren shook his head with a laugh of his own. “This poor man! I applaud his strength. What is your name, bard?”

“Ogmund, sir. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the Khajiit insists. I have heard far worse singers in my time. You two have the look of adventure about you. What brings you to Markarth?”

“Nothing exceedingly glamorous, I assure you,” Noren began, “We are simply book hunting for a mage in Whiterun.”

“This has been the most action-packed book hunt that I have ever participated in.” Inigo quipped.

Noren rolled his eyes. “Oh, alright…we did have some run-ins with the Forsworn and a pair of Hagravens.”

“And the group of bandits we ran into as we left Whiterun. ” Inigo added. 

“Yes…that too.”

“Oh! And don’t forget about the-“

“Inigo!” Noren hid his face. He knew his friend was only trying to be accurate, but he did not want so much attention called to their acts of violence. The last thing they needed was for one of these Nords to think them worthy of challenging. “Forgive my friend, Ogmund. It is true that he has done heroic things. I, however, am just a simple young man. Nothing I have done is heroic. I don’t think myself worthy of adoration, or praise. I only want to find my place in the world.”

The bard grinned. “And that is how most heroes start, lad. But I know why you shy from the tales. Maybe you just aren’t ready to wear the shining armor yet.” He picked up his lute, plucking away at a slow melody. Noren sat back and listened for a while. It was nice to be back in some semblance of civilization. Kleppr’s wife came by after a moment to ask him if he wanted drink, or food.

“What wines do you have?”

“We have a lovely Surilie Brothers 415, the 399, and a Tamika 406.”

Noren gave her a smile. “I’ll have the 399 please. And a wedge of cheese and some bread please.” She gave a stern nod, then went off to get the food. “Come Join me Inigo. Let us drink while we consider our next move.”

“I should warn you, I am not a wine drinker. At least not often. My palette may not be as refined as yours.”

“Nonsense,” Noren waved the words away, “I am convinced that wine is best when shared. Refinement has nothing to do with it. He smirked. “Besides, since when have you turned down cheese when offered it?”

Inigo, having no means to combat this statement, moved closer and let out a sigh. “Fair enough. As for what we should do next, I was wondering if you were willing to check the local notices? I realize that we have our work for Farengar, but tracking down a few bandits or missing items would be a fantastic way to keep your training going while bringing us some gold to work with. You are showing improvement, and I think some practical exercises coupled with our sparring will get you to the point where I won’t fear for you while we are apart.”

Noren gave a surprised glance. “You worry about me?”

“Someone has to. I know you worry about your skills as well. I feel you put too much pressure on yourself to succeed. It is only natural to be clumsy at first when learning anything. I promise, you will be keeping your own against anyone we meet if you keep working at it.” 

“I know. Thank you for being patient with me. I know that I can get easily frustrated.” He recalled one of their more recent sparring matches, when he had nearly thrown his sword into the river out of rage.

“It is not surprising, given how your people seem to ostracize those who do not meet their standards. I only hope that you can see that I am not going to judge you nearly as harshly. Also, it is okay to be frustrated. It is not, however, to throw childish fits when things do not go as you wish.”

Noren again felt ashamed. His cheeks went a bit flushed. “I am truly sorry, Inigo.”

The Khajiit waved the words away. “There is no need to apologize. You have put up with similar things from me. Anyway, I find it amusing when you get so upset.” The sound of his mirth made Noren feel almost as bad as his shame alone. “Do not look so sullen. I promise, I mean it purely as endearing.”

The Altmer made it a point to hide as much of his face as possible with the wine glass. Part of him was trying to slow down. He hadn’t had wine this strong in a long time. It had been even longer since he had this much in one sitting. The last thing he needed was to get drunk. “Well, if you promise not to embarrass me too much in public with these stories, I promise to try and work on my behavior.” He threw back the last of the wine in his glass before standing to approach Ogmund. “If you would like to rest, I could play something for you.” He raised a hand, index finger tracing a circle near his chest. His lute shimmered into existence in a burst of golden light. He caught it just as gravity began to take hold, making the Nord smile at the showmanship.

“Sure! My fingers could use a rest. I would be honored to hear you play.” He set his own instrument down and made his way to the bar for a drink.

Noren tuned the lute by playing a spattering of chords and arpeggios. He wondered for a moment what he wanted to play. Should he sing? He decided against it, instead choosing a traditional concerto from Summerset. The notes rang out with more warmth than he would have expected from the damp, stone hall of the inn. His eyes slid closed, images of his homeland entering his mind. He remembered the small lake, on the island of Auridon. The smell of the hyacinths that bloomed along the shore, and the stone that stood on the little bit of land at its center. He allowed himself a bit of a smile at the thought. He used to play the loot there as well. It had been a place of peace for him during what was perhaps a less than enjoyable childhood. Though he could not see it, the strings of his lute began to shimmer with a soft light. Inigo and Ogmund watched in awe as the light grew, filling the corner of the bar with its radiance. The light only diminished as the last chord faded. Noren brought down the instrument with a sigh, pleased that he was able to enjoy this slower pace. Even if only for one day.