Peregrin Old-Fur: Captured

There was nothing to keep me company aside from Hortamus’ sleeping body and my active imagination. I was in no mood to picture soldiers running around the room, letting loose their inner child as they pranced around the rocks and jumped from the implements to the table. There was no enjoyment in this day. Finally, Hortamus slowly awakened to reality.
“You didn’t help me.” I said to the dragonborn.
“Pardon me?” He replied. “When did I not help you?”
“In the middle of the night, an elf came in to our room and hurt me. All you did was lie there.”
“I was sleeping, Peregrin. If I was awake, I would have helped you. I am very sorry you had to go through that. You obviously had little sleep last night. Let us get ready to sharpen knives.”
We tidied our blankets and the bells rang. Hortamus and I walked out of the room, without a stalwart dragging me away. That felt like an accomplishment. We went to our stations to sharpen knives.
While I went to work, my eyes became very heavy. In fact, it seemed as if every knife I sharpened made my eyelids heavier. I struggled to stay awake and I closed my eyes, cutting myself while I was sharpening a knife. That immediately woke me up. I stared at the cut. Blood came pulsing out of my index finger and onto the table. I grabbed a cloth that had dried blood and dirt on it and cleaned up the spill. I then wrapped it around my finger, and applied pressure, figuring Hortamus would not heal it. Hortamus shrugged his head to the right while looking at a stalwart, telling it to get Tylovine. My sight began to blur and I felt lightheaded. Tylovine walked out of the dark hallway. I noticed a lot of people staring at me and the magician.
“What is it?” Tylovine demanded.
“Peregrin cut his finger and is losing a fair amount of blood.”
“and? Do you expect me to cut it off to stop the bleeding?”
“No, I ask permission to escort him to his room to lie down.”
“Why should I allow you to do that?”
“If you do not, he may fall asleep again, and he could accidentally stab someone, which will slow down the process of the knives.” The statement sounded ridiculous and unrealistic, but Tylovine thought it was plausible.
“Fine, but come back here as soon as you’re done.”
Tylovine yelled something in the goblin language. I did not know what he said, but some nearby stalwarts gripped their clubs. Hortamus walked me back to the room and sat me down. He made sure no one was watching; chanted something in dragon and a light appeared around my finger. Eventually, the cut healed. My vision cleared up, and I felt a boost of adrenaline. I was surprised, however. He did not need to use the implement.
“How did you do that without using the book?” I asked.
“When you get as good as I am, you do not need it for some spells.” He smiled. “You do not need to rest, but stay here for a while anyway so they think you did.” I nodded and he walked out of the room. As soon as he left, I walked over to his implement. After seeing him cast the spell without having to use a book, I became rather interested. The book had seen better days, but I wouldn’t have called it a really old book. The front of the book was white and had a cross on it, which was typical. The interesting part was the scales on the cross. Perhaps that represented draconic writing. I opened the book, and sure enough, there was draconic writing inside. Flipping the pages of the book, I did not understand a thing. The letters of the dragons looked so unique. I wanted to learn how to speak draconic. I had always wanted to learn another language, but the only one I somewhat knew was ancient dwarf, but that was too old for my liking. I noticed that I had spent quite a bit of time looking at the implement, so I walked out of the room. I pretended to look a little dazed from the cut I had. I walked over to the table and continued to sharpen knives.
Remembering what the elf had said to me, I looked around the centre, and noticed that I had stolen money from quite a few of these people. They looked at me with cold, menacing eyes. Never before had I thought of the damage that I had caused in their lives. They were in here because of the Goblin Hunter; the Halfling from a farm. I wondered if Berhin knew the hurt these people went through, and if he would have stopped stealing from them.
The bells rang and Tylovine walked out of the hallway, looking upset. He walked around to examine our work and when he got to our table, he stared at me.
“You’re slacking again.” He said abruptly.
“Sir, I can expla-“
“No excuses, no food for this table.”
I saw a few people from the table look at each other as if a death had just occurred. My stomach started to growl at me. I had not eaten a proper meal in days, and I now believed that would only increase. For all I knew, these people could starve to death as a result of my actions, because I hadn’t put my back into my work. My father would be disappointed in me. It must have been a miracle for Hortamus to have survived in this place. I looked down at the stone in my left hand and the knife in my right.
“Focus, Peregrin.” I admonished myself. “You can do it. This isn’t much less than what you’d get at home. Wait a minute, I thought, my brain waking to reality, this is a lot less.”.
I continued to sharpen knives.