The Waiting Stone - Fanar

On such a fine day, I found myself in Vilemyr Inn of Ivarstead. It was quite early in the morning. One might expect the sun up any minute, if that mattered. I leaned against a post near the counter enjoying a smoke. Taking in the classic elves ears sensation, a tingle through my nostrils and down my throat. I was content to lean here for hours.

From behind me, a familiar voice boomed out. Echoing through the near empty hall.

“Young Snakestone, may I have a word?”

The barkeep slid a fresh tankard of mead toward an empty seat and motioned for me to sit. I reluctantly stepped off the wall, a hand digging through my pockets for my alchemy pouch. Just one more pinch of ground elves ears for my pipe. I brought my fingers beneath it, casting a small flame to reignite the pipe. The ashes glowed briefly then settled down. With a puff of smoke, I fell into the chair and looked up at the barkeep. He peered down at me with a concerned brow then leaned in close.

“Are you on any work at the moment?

“Not particularly” I said, letting out a puff of smoke. His hands disappeared beneath the counter, soon returning with a folded paper. He sat it down, tapping it nervously before sliding it over to me.

“Friend of mine had been working in that new mine north of Nimalten for a couple weeks now. Do you know it?”

I paused, a brief draw on the pipe as I thought.

“I might. I haven’t been up that way in some time though.”

“Well”, he started again. “They’ve been having some bandit trouble. Hired mercenaries, guards, the whole lot. Had it taken care of last I had heard. But today, I get a miner in town telling me the bandits have taken it over. They have the workers under their employ now. My man was here every weekend for drinks but I haven’t seen him in a solid three weeks now. Can you go have a look? I’m not asking you to deal with a herd of bandits, but just a look. See if it’s true. You can take it to the guards when you get back. They’ll believe you over some drunkard miner, that’s for certain.”

A man staggered past, nearly bumping into me. He slammed an empty tankard down on the note, splashing foam all around. A good a time as any to retrieve it, I tugged it out from under the mug and unfolded it to have a peek. “Just a map” I muttered, crumpling it and sitting it aside. On second thought, I did know the place. It’s a new little mine just down the hill north of Nimalten. I crossed by on my journey to Dawnstar last year. It was little more than an excavation site in the cliff side at that point.

“Oh here he is now. Have a talk with Young Snakestone here, and tell him what you know about that mine, friend.” I stood and turned to shake his hand, but none was offered.The miner straightened his back, assuming a stern posture. Opening his mouth to speak but uttering only a belch, or perhaps a hiccup. He collected himself briefly then began again. Stuttering and murmuring. I gave him some time then spoke.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

I waved to the barkeep and went about my way. The miner turned and weakly watched me trod away before sitting down at the counter and helping himself to the remains of my drink.

It was a decent morning. The dew had just settled, leaving cool beads on the door handle. I dusted my wet hand across right leg, plucking my pipe from my lips with my other hand, tipping it up and giving it a firm tap to ensure it was empty before tucking it away. The sun had began to rise by the time I neared the outskirts of town. Nimalten lie on the hill across the creek. No more than a two hour walk on an ideal day. And an ideal day this appeared to be until a troll reared it’s head. He was very aggressive. Sometimes they’ll back off when I show force but this one had no intention of taking a passive role. He made it difficult, exhausting even. Eventually I had enough of his games and lured him into the stream. The poor thing lost it’s footing in the loose stones and soon met it’s end on my blade. I laid him to rest on the bank and set out again. Crossing the creek just before the waterfall. The town lie just a short ways up the hill.

The family resting spot. Though a bit more overgrown that what I had recalled. Every time we were in Nimalten we would end up here. Mother would spread a small lunch atop these crumbling stones. We would eat then play across them until time to move on. Another of my favorite spots. I’ve spent many an evening here. Relaxing, remembering. A warming respite, in many ways. The mine was just down the path from here. It was a quiet stroll. Much more peaceful than the last. The mine soon came into view. At the opening in the cliff face lay a man, dagger in his back. I knelt and examined him. I supposed he was a miner. Dead no more than a few hours.

Bandits were apparently not their sole issue. A thick coating of web covered many of the corridors. A serious frostbite spider infestation. With the final spider dealt with, I slowed my pace. Following shadows for the most part, just to be safe. My frame lends little to sneaking, but I was taught well. I make the best of it. I suspected an ambush, though one never came. It seemed that I would be the one doing the ambushing.

I heard their conversations before they came into view. They spoke of the miners, though they used the term Slave. An elderly Nord walked right past me, within an arms length. He took a seat nearby and began pouring himself a drink. I hefted my sword, slowly, gently, careful not to let it’s polish catch light until it was too late to matter. I brought it the height of his ribs then tilted it upwards. Angling for his armpit. I brought the tip as close as comfortably possible then without warning, thrust. The blade nearly disappeared into his chest. A sickening sound, a brief gasp, and then he was done. I had taken a lung and gods knows what else. I withdrew the blade slowly, my free hand taking a strip of cloth from the table and bringing it to the wound to muffle the bloodflow as I guided him to the floor. An archer was next.

A bit more lively than his friend, he caught onto my footsteps before I could get close enough to dispatch him. He lifted his bow but he had nowhere to run. The room fed into a larger chamber. An underground reservoir of sorts. I once again crept quiet, making my way around the outer wall of the chamber. Three nude figures graced the lime bathing pools below. Two Nords, one near my age, another twice my age and the last, a Bosmer lady. They frolicked in the pools, splashing water at each other and laughing amongst themselves. I slipped past their waiting clothing, still unseen, taking their daggers for myself before moving on. Just to be safe.

At the far end of the chamber, a lookout spotted me and signaled the alarm. He loosed three arrows before I could close the distance. Two bounced off my chestplate while the third found a place in my right arm. The padded fabric took most of it but it had definitely penetrated the skin. The bathers huddled together and put up no fight so I let them be. Turning my attention to the orc climbing the embankment before me. We danced briefly around the campfire. His sword clanged off my breastplate as I ended him and moved to the next. Another orc. A young one at that, he approached poorly and caught the sword through his upper chest. Cleaving through his left shoulder, and nearly all hewing his body in half. He crumpled at the foot of the next. A Nord in a full suit of iron. Another young man from the looks of him. I lifted my sword and assumed the same stance that had taken his friend. He removed his helmet and tossed it aside. Trembling as his eyes darted between me and the mess at his feet.

“You can go. Take the ladies with you. There will be no second chances.” I barked, nodding my head toward the pools. I tugged at the shaft of the arrow lodged in my arm, snapping it, then throwing it at his feet. He dropped his shield and ran to them, ushering them onto the banks and out the tunnel from whence I came. He crossed paths with a brutish Nord woman on his way out. A massive warhammer sitting atop her broad shoulders. Blood red warpaint covered much of her face. She lumbered close, forcing me to backpedal for better footing. She gave me many a dent on my new cuirass. The enchanted warhammer left cold in it’s wake, dusting my body with a fine coating of frost. She swung slow, leaving herself open on nearly every attack. Though she did not go down in one blow like the others. It was a grueling affair but in the end I was victorious. The chambers grew colder and darker as I proceeded. I spent the next half hour healing my wounds as I crept by torchlight.

I came upon a throne room. Much older than these mines. Past it, a circular hallway. A central door locked. Closed by enchantment I suppose. A violet glow shone under the the doorframe and through portcullis in the adjoining room. I tried to peer in but the light was far too bright to make out any detail. I have no intention of delving into further secrets in the earth. I’ve found that some things are better left ignored.

The circular hall gave way to a roughly chiseled tunnel. This one felt new. Fresh dust in the air. The clang of pickaxes soon touched my ear. I rounded a corner and came face to face with a mud faced man. He leaped, dropping his pickaxe at the sight of me. I unlatched their slave bracers and lead them out to Nimalten. The sun had began to set by the time we reached the top of the hill. I handed them off to the guard to get them situated. That trusty stone was waiting for me.