Peregrin Old-Fur: Captured

The next day was a special day, for me at least. It was my birthday. I was officially 17 when the bells rang for us to work. I could picture mother preparing me a special meal and gifting me with clothes and equipment. Mother was the one that I missed the most. I rested my hand on my chest. I could fee small trenches in the skin across my torso. They had cleared up since last night due to healing and praying, but permanently removing scars such as the ones on my chest would take hours, and I did not have the time nor the strength for that. Perhaps today, as a present, Tylovine would not hurt me.
As we sharpened knives, I began to recall all the information Hortamus taught me.
“Alright, so ‘Nalutarash’ is the strength prayer,” I thought. “and ‘Amnirahkato’ is the light barrier prayer. Got it.” I began to lose interest in the prayers and focus my attention on the stories written in the implement. Bahamut was a kind and gentle dragon, but he was also known for his wars. Bahamut’s sister, Tiamat, disliked the races on Earth, especially the dragonborns. Some dragons thought that dragonborns mating with other species was a disgrace, while others thought indifferently of it. Dragonborns were just like any other species, but their appearance most resembled a dragon. Dragonborns that had no other species in their blood line were called ‘the pure’. Hortamus’ father, being a male human, was the exact opposite of ‘the pure’. Bahamut liked dragonborns and did not mind which species the dragonborn chose to mate with. Bahamut found out that his twin sister had planned to fly to Earth, and, with other dragons, kill all the ‘non pure’ dragonborns. From his sister’s aggression, a war started, causing Bahamut to be singled out from other dragons. He managed to take down all the dragons and prevented the extinction of the dragonborn race.
That story was one of my favourites in the implement. Bahamut showed courage, wisdom, and authority when battling his sister and the others. When I read the implement, I felt like I was closer to Bahamut than when I first chosen to follow him. I started to understand him better, and realized that the decisions he made were so that he could protect his followers.
In another story, Bahamut lived with his dragonborn sons and grandsons. They lived high up in a cave. An elvish king despised the dragonborns, and wanted them to pay money in return for the king’s permission to live there. Bahamut was angry, for he knew that the dragonborns had lived in the mountains much longer than the elves. Since they could not settle on an agreement, they went to war. With a single roar, he gave his dragonborns the power to lift double the amount of weight to which they were accustomed. They conquered the battle with the elves and it was believed that the scaly men still lived in the mountains to the present day. Most people had not proved this because they didn’t know where the mountains lay. I thought they’re too scared to prove it because they didn’t want to be burned alive by Bahamut. What they didn’t understand was, as I have said many times, Bahamut was a powerful god, but he was also a kind one.
I improved on my reading skills for the draconic language, but it still needed more practice. Since the syllables were hard to read and pronounce, the language was seen as one of the most difficult to learn. However, struggling with a language had never stopped me. Instead, it gave me another reason to be persistent. My paternal great-grandfather had been a dwarf. My father never told me how the dwarf and his wife met, but, as was the custom, he taught me how to speak the dwarven language. I was only fluent in two languages: Common and Dwarven. The Draconic language would take much more practice for me to be fluent in it.
At the end of the day, I wanted to see Jam, so I walked to the end of the room. In the middle of the centre was a stalwart, examining all the small rooms that surrounded it. The giant goblin’s back was visible. I stepped into the centre and let the shadows of the room consume me. My body clung against the rocky wall. Carefully, I took one step at a time closer towards Jam’s room. The stalwart turned around and stared at me. It grunted, letting out steam. I froze in terror. My heart pounded within me, feeling like it was going to leap from my body. The great goblin snorted and turned around again, revealing its back for the second time. I continued to scale along the wall. When I reached his room, Wilscar was already asleep. Another man’s body was spread out flat on the ground. Jamamros sat with his back against a wall. He stared at the ground with droopy eyes. His eyes were slightly red and a pair of purple crescents grew under them.
“Hey Jam,” I greeted him. He looked at me and narrowed his eyelids. He made fists and rubbed his eyes.
“Pippin, is that you?” He faintly spoke.
“Yeah,”
“What are you doing? You’re going to get in trouble.”
“Nah, I should be okay, those goblins are pretty stupid,” I chortled quietly.
“I’m surprised they only have one on guard duty there.”
“Everyone is too scared to look out there.”
“That’s true. What are you doing here?”
“I just wanted to see how you were doing.” He turned his head back towards the gray-saturated floor.
“I can’t sleep. Last time I slept for three hours or more was twenty…twenty one days ago. I have nightmares, Peregrin.”
“What are they about?”
“Him,” He turned his head back towards mine and widened his eyes. I kept quiet for a while.
“We’re getting out of here,” I said after a long twenty seconds.
“Oh yeah, you mentioned that a few times at the table. How do you think we’ll escape with a psychotic Goblin…ruler hovering over us?”
“I’m getting a few ideas while talking to Tonito.”
“Oh, him. You shouldn’t trust so easily, brother.”
“He’s just an elf who is trying to escape, just like us. There is nothing wrong with him.”
“What’s your plan in getting out of here?” He asked me, ignoring my statement. I rolled my eyes and explained the plan.
“Tylovine will go and talk to the goblins in the portal. We will then turn off the portal and cause mayhem in the Centre. Hortamus and I will escape to warn our parents to keep the gauntlets from being used.”
“Why, what do the gauntlets do?”
“They can cause an earthquake.” Wilscar’s snoring body rolled around on his sheet and slowly rose. His hair was scattered. The top of his head looked like a gigantic elvish city. He struggled to keep his eyes open.
“Pippin?” He asked faintly. What are you doing here?”
“I just wanted to talk.” I admitted.
“Wow,” Wilscar stared in awe. “You sure are fearless.”
“Stupid is more like it.” Jam muttered under his breath.
“You must be fearless as well to join the Goblin Hunters.” I stated. I folded my arms and leaned against a wall.
“I wouldn’t call myself fearless. I joined because I believed you killed goblins for a good cause,” I couldn’t keep eye contact with him.
“I actually killed goblins because I hated them,”
“Oh, well I still believe in you and I know I’ll be safe with you.”
“Why?”
“You remind me of my father.” I couldn’t help but feel flattered. I heard faint sounds of the stalwart moving around.
“I should probably go.” I concluded and headed back to my room.

“How was your visit?” Hortamus asked when I entered the room.
“Alright,” I replied, and looked out towards the centre. “Almost got caught by a stalwart.”
“At least you came back in one piece.” Hortamus smiled. A part of me wished that Jamamros was more like him. I walked over to the implement and grabbed it. Before I started to read, a question clouded my mind.
“Who was the person who committed suicide?” I asked Hortamus. He turned his head towards the rocky bed below him and stared. The dragonborn inhaled heavily, and then released it.
“He was my friend,” Hortamus started. “a good friend. He used to live in this room before you did. He was a 30 year old human.”
“What was his name?” I asked. Hortamus turned his head from his rocky bed to mine.
“Traice Fletcher. He was a troubled man: mom left his dad for another man when Traice was young, a few years later his wife died, and then his kid went missing. He survived in here for a month. I was surprised he didn’t reveal my…profession to others because when I told him, his face lit up. One day, he hurt his arm. I was going to heal it, so I told him to wait in the room, and when I came back, I watched him stab himself.”
“Couldn’t you help him?” I questioned him.
“It was too late. By the time I got to his body, he shook his head and died.” I joined Hortamus, staring at the sheet. I felt bad for Traice, but I also felt bad for Hortamus. Every time Hortamus saw me, he must have thought of his dead friend. He wanted Traice to come alive again, but he understood that his death was meant to be. Reflecting on this, I began to accept Berhin’s death. I missed him, but he was in a better place.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I replied sympathetically.
“That’s okay,” Hortamus responded and finally turned his head to look at me. “I want you to read 5 pages of the implement tonight,” I nodded and grabbed the book.