The Pickpocket

Chapter: Three – Fornost

Genre: Adventure/Drama

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs rightfully to the Tolkien Estate. I don’t own or make money from the LOTR fandom. The OCs, however, are mine.

Author’s Notes: Finally, a city with people.
_ _ _

It was bright and sunny.

I wandered with a crowd of peasants towards the towering gates of Fornost. The roads were muddy from the rain a few nights previous making it difficult to walk with a group of people. My head hurt from the blaring sun that beamed down on all those out in the open. Pack animals grunted and moaned under the weight of their burdens. A sigh escaped my lips from the heavy weight my infected arm brought.

Honestly, I don’t remember much of how I made it out of the fields that night after being chased by the beastly Uruk Hai. I don’t know how long I was wandering about the fields trying to get to Fornost. I didn’t even know what day or time it was. All I could guess was from the infected stench of my hand that I was out there for a little too long. I was hungry, thirsty and desperate to get some healing to try and save my left arm.

While I carried a picture-perfect memory there are some times where I am actually unable to recall anything. I remember strange pieces of my childhood which is then filled in with beatings and blackouts. In some cases I think my subconscious chooses not to remember what happened. For that I am eternally grateful.

The city was packed with life – it was trading day. Vendors of all sorts stood on high pedestals crying out that they had genuine elvish items for sale. Some cried out that they had come from the old battlefields of Mordor to sell what was left of the rusted armor and weaponry. There were, of course, a variety of fruit and meat stands selling the best in-season crops. Due to the fact there was such a large amount of people, shop owners would not even know if they were missing a few pieces from their stock.

Hunger consumed me but containing the pain was my priority. Compared to a few nights before, my arm’s pain had degenerated from an agonizing burning sensation to a swollen, throbbing ache. It was no longer all agonizing and I was able to mentally function for the most part. As I looked around at the wooden stalls overflowing with foods and items I was able to focus on the world around me instead of the pain my body held. I would be back to pick the bones of the shops before long.

Guards wandered around halfheartedly meandering between stalls and auctions. Several were too busy flirting with the local tramps to be able to see several young boys steal apples and oranges straight from the boxes of a shop’s display rack. Mothers with sleeping babies strapped to their backs bartered with store owners while their children ran wild through the streets. Jugglers and fire-breathers performed at every chance they had trying to earn a few extra pieces of copper for whatever habit they had to feed. One of the knife jugglers dropped one of his very sharp props through his foot making the crowd laugh and the actor howl in pain. Some kind bystanders helped the poor performer off to the Northwest where I assumed the local healers were. The overly wealthy lords and ladies perused for junk believing it to be authentic material from some out of reach country as the paupers begged for food in the side streets.

Spotting a snooty-looking rich man I picked up my pace keeping my head down in the heat. The rich man violently bumped into my left shoulder making it hurt more than I expected. My balance teetered to the side and I dropped to a knee in pain. Several attendants hurried to their master’s side helping the fatty off the dirt road. I gripped my bicep and wheezed in pain.

“Stupid wretch!” The fat man exclaimed, spitting at me, “Watch where you step, you worthless ingrate!” He elbowed off his attendants and adjusted his blue, silk coat before walking back into the crowd. The people around me continued walking without a care completely ignoring my fallen form. I started to stand but was immediately knocked back into the mud by a rushed resident of Fornost. Scrambling like an animal I crawled from the main street and sat behind a large beam holding up the roof of the tavern.

“Ukk!” I sucked in a pained breath and pressed my good hand to my lower belly. The abrupt pain stabbed through my gut to my back making it uncomfortable to move. Pacing my breathing I clamed as the pain subsided I couldn’t help but make a frown. Once I started to feel a little better I shifted my weight to the side making sure the feeling would not return.

Clutching the torn shirt of my chest I stood on tired legs and wandered to the back alley behind the local tavern. Large rats didn’t bother to scurry out of my way as I walked past. Their scrawny faces watched me with sharp fangs ready for the nibble. I gave a scowl and they went back to their business as I passed.

It smelled like feces and unclean bodies but the smell was not bothersome enough to make me go back into the crowd. Week old garbage and waste littered the area. A sleeping vagrant snored between two large piles of filth. In his hand was gripped a large bottle with almost no liquid left inside. I could see the wooden walls of the tavern and the houses next to me were already beginning to rot. The black fuzz grew from the piles of vomit and trash winding up between the wooden panelings.

My thoughts were my own as I slowly walked past the vagrant on the ground. I shivered slightly in the damp pathway remembering that I needed new clothes. After I had my arm taken care of at the healers, my next stop was the clothing store. I had the funds after my last night at the previous tavern in Gergot. All my clothing, maps and important travel items were toasted from the dragon’s fire. I needed to get all my gear back together.

“Lady, how did’ju do dat?” I looked around with a frown on my face – someone dared to pull me from my thoughts. The small voice caught me by surprise in the dingy backstreet. Standing barefoot behind me was a small runt of a child. Its blonde hair caked with mud and pale skin gray with grime. It watched me intently as I slowly turned around.

I raised an eyebrow. The urchin pointed to my free hand which held a bright blue bag heavy with gold coins. I raised the item to my face looking at the expensive design. On the front of the bag carried a small, golden plate with the initials of the lord whom I stole it from. The baggie was sealed with a beaded string that was woven into the neck. The bag itself would sell for a pretty silver piece. Remembering the child I grinned. My gaze drew back to the child in the street, “Talent.” I explained.

The critter continued to watch me – how I hated children. It wanted something from me. I rolled my eyes and sighed trying to figure a way out of the situation. Nothing ladylike or nice was coming to mind, “Runt, where’s the healers?” I said expecting him to straight out and tell me but I was wrong.

“What’s in it fer me?” He replied. I chuckled, a smart little shit, I thought to myself. Almost like how I started out after my family sold me off. I, however, wouldn’t fall for a cheeky little trick.

The blue money-bag in my hand made noises when I rattled it, “You take me to the healers and I will give you two silver coins when we get there,” I saw the contemplation on his face. He wanted more than two coins like all greedy bastards – I didn’t even want to give him two let alone more. “You know, the guar-.”

“Okay fine.” He cut me off knowing that I could go to another street urchin for less and the guards were free. Smart kid but not worldly enough yet to start really bartering outside the laws of society. He stepped by me making his way out in front of me in the ally. At the clearing of the back ally he pointed off to the west. “Follow me dis way, I will take’ju to da healers.”

A loud sigh escaped my lips. I tucked the money-pack into the hidden pockets of the inside of my tattered jacket. My free hand brushed my greasy, muddy hair from my face to get a better look at the child staring at me. I pushed the waves of hair behind my ears and gave a cruel smirk. “Did you know that if I kill you here, no one will miss you?”
I could hear the child gulp in fear. He wanted the money but he didn’t want to die. I give the runt credit for trying to be creative and lead me in the wrong direction only to ask for more money to clear his thoughts.

“Take me to the healers and I will give you two gold coins. Take me in the wrong direction to try to cheat me and,” I stepped towards to the petrified child. He watched my eyes nervously, “well, no one will miss you, will they?”

The runt stared at my eyes for a moment longer. He watched their two separate colors with fascination. He nodded profusely and turned slightly, “Dis way miss.” He said leading me to the Northwest.

I gave him a smile along with a heavy pat on the head, “Good boy.”

Winding through the dank, muddy back allies the urchin brought me to the front doorstep of a local healer. I stared at the door which had a plethora of dried plants and herbs nailed in place. The kid mentioned that this healer helped one of his friend as they were injured in a small fight not too long back, then he held out his hand. I debated on kicking him to the dirt and telling him to deal with the reality of me not giving him coins, but I decided against it. Having a little rat tattle to the guards on me is not something I wanted to deal with.

“Here.” I held out my gloved hand and dropped exactly two silver coins into his grimy palm. With that the little rat would be able to eat for a month if he didn’t squander it on his grimy little friends. “Don’t lose them, I don’t hand out extras.” He smiled, beaming almost. I guessed it was one of his first real jobs where he completed it without being beaten or scammed. It was probably my first offer where I didn’t beat someone or scam them.

“What’ser name, lady?” He asked abruptly. I raised my eyebrows staring at the grimy child with torn clothing. Did my name matter? I wondered.

“Uh,” I hadn’t been asked my name in a long time. Sometime I wondered if I would actually forget my name from the lack of its use over the past ten years. My name had a stigma to it that was reinforced by the tattoos marking me as a dangerous criminal. Telling the critter my name could do no harm, I supposed. “Lyrrin.” He jumped up at the newfound knowledge.

The runt dashed off but before he got too far he skidded to a stop, pressed his hands to the sides of his mouth and called, “Mine’s Kipp!” He waved back and sprinted around a corner back to the festivities. I could barely even tell that not ten minutes before I was threatening the street urchin with his life if he didn’t take me to the healer where I stood now. Guess he wasn’t so bad after all.

That’s a first…

It was a somewhat quiet off shoot from the hustle and bustle of the city’s festivities. The area around the healers was more or less residential and calm. There were a few people scattered around the tight paths between houses and the healer’s place. Random residents were greeting each other. A few were bringing back items from the main street to their homes. No guards were around – which was beneficial to me in case anything stupid happened while I was cooped up in the healer’s building.

Each window had dried herbs decorating both the inside and outside. I pressed myself against the door to listen for any other customers that could be inside. It was silent so I guessed that the injured juggler was carried off to another healer that was closer to his location.

My fingers touched the steel handle whose cold touch seeped through my gloves and to my skin. Bells and rustling sounds signaled my entrance as I pulled open the heavy wooden structure. It briefly got caught on the straw welcome mat that was faded with age.

It was warm and dry inside. Almost every part of the ceiling was covered in some type of dry plant or meat for medicinal purposes. I closed the door behind me – the bell jingled once more - and glanced around for the healer. For a cluttered place it was tidy and all the medicinal items were labeled in an orderly manner on the homemade shelves. Leather-bound books were shelved via genre on the shelves to the far left of the shop. I saw several skulls being displayed for anatomical purposes next to relatively new candles. If it was not for the series of biology books on the shelves I would have guessed that it was a witch’s house.

No one was around in plain sight. The healer must have wandered to a back room or something. “Hey, can I get some bandages and spices?” I called trying to be as rude and quick as possible. I didn’t have time to waste on some grumpy old person complaining over what needed to be done. I knew what I needed already. Thanks to my training in the houses of healing I knew what the specific ingredients to the concoctions that I would have to take in order to flush the infection and the… other thing.

“Good day to you, young one.” The voice was shaky but far from ancient. A middle aged woman walked from behind a green curtain wiping her hands on her delicately woven cloth. The designs and soft patterns hinted that the fabric was elvish... While she was blatantly human it was obvious that her connections to the Elves was one of great strength…

This did not bode well for me.

Nevertheless I needed assistance. I would lie as much as I could to see how much I could get away with. If I was lucky maybe I would get off with at least a few fingers moving and the herbs I needed… if I was lucky and she did not pester me with questions and philosophy.

“So it looks like,” I acknowledged her greeting to me and watched her closely through the strands of hair that were plastered to my face. I did not break eye contact from her – she did not flinch. She did, however, look me up and down twice before her gaze examined my hideous arm. After she had enough looking at my tired form, her gaze went back to mine. It seems the graying healer had seen criminals before, lots of them. Her dimmed green eyes showed intelligence and wisdom that most people her age – I am guessing late forties, early fifties – rarely exuded.

She continued to watch me. The lines on her face were soft as her eyes probed my travel-torn features. “How can I help you?” She asked as she absentmindedly tucked her towel into the front of her elvish apron. I was tempted to say nothing and just leave but the throbbing ache in my wrist kept me pinned to that spot. “You don’t look so well, young one.”

I scoffed at her obvious comment. The healer’s counter sat in front of me with a patient ledger open to that day’s appointments. Due to the large trading day several of the names were crossed off in cancellation. I dropped several gold coins into the center of the book then turned to look back at the woman. “I need bandages and a cleaning for my burns,” My arm was stiff as I raised the puss-hardened wrappings into the air, “If I haven’t already lost it completely.”

The yellow-green had faded to a crusty gray that had soaked the majority of my forearm. Now that it had dried, the smell had faded somewhat allowing me to breathe easier. Her face twisted at the sight of my poorly kept appendage that I lifted into the air. She almost dared a step back at the sight but kept her composure. Her hesitation made me wonder about her qualifications. Just because she had a genuine elvish cloth wrapped around her midsection did not mean she was good at her job. Then again many of the vendors at the front gates of the city had a few pieces of genuine elvish material.

Turning to the side she signaled me to follow her to the back examination room, “This way, please.” I stepped up behind her but dared not to let her walk behind me even though the room was merely a few steps away. She got the clue and pulled forward a wooden stool for me to sit in. I firmly planted myself in the seat leaning forward momentarily to crack the bones in my lower back. From nerves well trained from the past, I pressed my back up against the wall in order to make sure she wouldn’t try anything out of her routine. I never liked people walking behind me – it was something of a habit of mine that I was unable to break. It had saved me on many occasions when dealing with strange characters.

The healer opened several cabinets pulling out clean, white cloth and set it down on the table. She spread a large towel out at the end where I sat, “Set the wounded arm here,” she patted the soft-looking cotton and I reluctantly set my arm where she asked. As I watched her set out the salves and potions I couldn’t help but yawn a little. After all, I had not slept in roughly three or four days – exhaustion was a powerful force that was weighing down on my shoulders like a wall of weight.

She held in her hand a small, sharp knife show it to me in plain sight. “Your wound has healed to your bandage,” she began to explain. I already knew all the details on how to appropriately clean the problematic wounds but let her speak nonetheless. “I am going to have to cut the bandages and peel them off.”

“I know what happens, you don’t have to explain every detail,” I was tired and my level of caring and patience was wearing thin as my level of coherency waned. “Cut it off and clean it up. Doing your job shouldn’t be this hard.” She seemed hesitant after my rude remarks. She had yet to even treat me and I was already berating me. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, “Just peel it off already.”

Her weary face looked far older in the weak lighting of the small examination room. The faster she would peel it off the faster I could determine whether or not I would be able to keep the badly damaged limb. Without speaking another word, she started at my bundle-wrapped fingers and began to cut. She was careful to only cut the upper wraps leaving the bottom for the fun peel we would do later. The healer took a step closer to me and I did my best to hold back my nervous feelings.

As she slowly worked up my forearm, the feeling of pulling fabric had quickly become painful pinches. My face was frozen with composure as the knife slowly passed my elbow and sliced the upper knot in the middle of my bicep. The smell had arrived slightly, giving way that my arm did not seem healthy. The healer set the knife down and grabbed a large jar she has set to the side earlier. “Pure alcohol.” She unscrewed the cap and firmly grabbed my arm below the elbow, “It’s going to hurt, young one.”

I sighed with a nod ready for the sting that I was about to receive. She started from my elbow because it was the farthest to reach. That was the easy part. Besides a small twinge from a healing first degree burn it was not too bad. As the healer reached down for my elbow I sucked in an air of breath waiting for what was to come next with the larger burns. She grabbed the jar of pure alcohol and began to poor the liquid over my arm.

I watched the liquid stream over my limb for merely a second before the agony came over me. The pain was so abrupt that I jumped from the chair and stood at an angle gripping my upper arm like a tourniquet. Sweat dripped from my brow – my teeth gnashed together trying to snub the pain however I could.

The healer, obviously seeing my distress, tried to work faster as the pain grew. Yet her aged actions were not nearly fast enough for me. Her delicate fingers slowly pulled at the adhered bandages making the pain fire up my nerves into my neck. She tugged at the bandages which, in turn, were slowly peeling away from my ruined flesh.

Damn this! I mentally screamed out for a release from the agony I was in. The healer was a fool and did not understand the complexity of burns enough to deal with my situation. “Bitch!” I reached out with my good arm and slapped her away. She gave a soft yelp and fell back to her counter, “Where did you learn your trade, fool? I will do this myself!”

I bit the tips of my fingers of my good glove peeling the studded leather from my hand. Spitting the fabric to the ground I ignored the letter tattoos on my knuckles and gripped my forearm. Exhausted, sweating and in horrific pain from the alcohol drenched wraps, I grabbed the piece she started on and without giving it a second thought, tore the bandages off my forearm in one fell swoop. Blisters pooped and puss oozed forth from several locations while blood spattered over the table from where I tore my bandages.

My knees shook making it very hard to stand. I heaved breaths feeling the exhaustion poke at my features daring me to pass out in that moment. “I need…” Speaking too effort and my mind was already fried. My adrenaline was drained, I had no food in my body, and water seemed like a jewel in distant memory. “I need aloe salve.”

The healer was still perplexed at my violent outburst at her poor mending. I slid to the chair beneath me and was sure I would fall asleep in that moment. But my eyes stayed awake and my brain was still attempting to function even though there was no more fuel left to keep going. The healer saw my exhaustion and examined my arm.

“I am sorry for my inexperience on burns, young one.” She was trying to apologize but I was a little too tired to care about her failures at the moment. “I am merely a medicinal preparer, not much in the way of curing things with my hands.”

“Couldn’t tell.” Sarcasm was my cruel and rude forte. She rubbed in the cooling salve and looked at my wounds to the best of her knowledge. I glanced over through the scraggly strands of my hair. I pushed back my overgrown bangs and gave an exhausted sigh.

She paused for a second making my head twist up to look at her. “Your eyes,” she said with more curiosity than needed, “It’s not often you see two such bright colors in one gaze. Blue and green, a rarity indeed.” She gave me a swollen smile from where I smacked her.

“Are you done talking? I just tore off three days worth of scab on a third degree burn and bitch-smacked you across the room. Do your job before I make you do it.” My tone of voice and pinched face was a sign of rage coupled with unhappiness. I wondered why she didn’t just storm out of the place bring the guards back screaming that I assaulted her.

“I have dealt with unruly patients before. You, dearest, are not the first to smack me in a bout of agony.” She finished checking over my wound and pressed the cooling salve in it making me hiss. “Though it’s usually the untrained children who smack and kick when they are in pain.”

I took offense to her last statement. “Delightful.” I looked at the wound on my arm with a curious face. It seemed different somehow – it didn’t look that bad. It was healing well for such a gruesome wound. My skin was still oozing pus from the infection it was fighting off, but I was healing.

My arm was healing very fast. Never in my life had I healed that fast from any wound. I had been stabbed, beaten, burned and whipped but they always took me weeks, even months, to properly heal before I functioned at a normal level again. I was a human, a child of an unhappy union between man and woman some twenty-seven years ago. As for this wound – I gave myself another three weeks and I would be back to normal besides the horrific scars it would leave behind.

“Interesting tattoos.” I raised my eyes seeing the healer look at my unclasped shirt. I reached up and tucked my shirt back to where it was before she saw the full markings on my chest. None of my tattoos meant anything good and I hoped she wouldn’t ask. Before I knew it, I heard the grating voice once again – couldn’t the woman just keep silent as she worked? “What do they mean? I am sure they are very important to you.”

A grunt was all I really could do to answer, “Yeah, something like that.” My instincts were a little worried at the strange generosity the woman was giving me after I smacked her. Yet the exhaustion that nibbled at the back of my eyes was winning the battle of senses. Once my arm was bandaged completely I would purchase what I needed and be on my way.

“When did you say you got these again?” She was pushing my buttons. Her eyes watched my flayed flesh with curiosity. I began to feel wary about her questions and remarks that were becoming more frequent and probing.

“I didn’t.” She raised her eyebrows and worked on properly wrapping my arm. The room was quiet for a moment aside from the buzz of the market still bursting with life a few blocks away. “I need to purchase from you seven sets of dry-bandages and a jar of aloe salve. I can take care of my injury from here.” My body had stopped shaking from the pain yet I was still curious as to how I was healing so fast. It looked like I already had two months of time to heal from an injury that happened roughly five moons before.

The healer tied off the bandage at my wrist and grabbed the last roll of cotton dressing. She worked around my crusty, aching hand and stopped to stare at my palm. Her fingers gently ran across the perfect brand of a large mithril coin into my palm. Alarms went off in my mind and I pulled my hand away from her grasp. She had seen enough and asked enough questions. It was time for me to get my items and leave, “I can dress it from here.” So I did. I could feel the woman’s eyes on the wrapping of my hand. She made a small noise before turning to a cabinet and grabbing clean, white wraps.

On the table, as I was finishing tying off the thick wrappings on my irritated skin, the healer laid out my wraps and bottles of the aloe salve for burns. I wriggled my fingers gingerly but didn’t take my eyes off the woman. Ah, I suddenly remembered that I needed the other things, too. “I also need two weights of Tear-root, four weights of Nightshade and a half a weight of Yews-petal.” The sounds of her gathering my wrappings stopped, I guess my comment was a little too casual.

“Young one, why do you need those specific herbs?” She rubbed her hands over her elvish apron with hesitation. Yes, apparently my comment was far too casual.

I checked my bandaging once more to make sure it would not slip as I went about my daily habits. Her questions were beginning to bother me, “You know what it is for, and I suggest that you give me what I need.” My bandages were secure and I shifted the position in my seat to watch her more closely.

Her hands shook slightly as she wandered about the quarters of her healing house looking for what I demanded, “Are you sure about this decision, deary?” Reaching towards a high shelf she grabbed two dusty containers and set them on the counter before her then reached for the third. “It’s a miracle, a gift, you know.”

“No.” I said firmly, “This is not a gift, but a parasitic curse that I wish to be rid of before it gets to be a bigger problem.” Standing I could feel the wooden floorboards ache under my weight as if they, too, were reminding me of the issue that I carried within. “Hurry up.”

She weighed out the appropriate herbs and placed them in individual paper baggies for me. The healer gave them to me with a reluctant glare on her face. Irritated, I snatched them from her weak fingers and placed them in my jacket pocket. I had already placed the bandages in my hip-sack and strutted to the door. My fingers felt the warm iron handle before her voice stopped me.

“Wait,” She reached out but did not touch my shoulder. Which was good for her or else I would have gutted her on the spot from daring to catch me from behind. “Please think on your decision. A child is a miracle of the Valar! You cannot do this so casually.”

A wild, grin danced across my face – I could feel my cruelty ooze to the surface of my skin, “A parasite is not a miracle, remember that, healer.” Her title slid from my lips like a dead, slimy worm and stung her ego. I pulled the door and exited her little healing facility to embrace the cool air of Fornost once again.

I had what I needed but I was too tired to deal with it at the moment. In all honesty I was too tired to even bother eating food or buying new clothes. Since the market was most likely going to go on for a few more days, I would take care of the material items tomorrow morning. The sun still had several more hours left in its run across the sky – but my exhaustion was almost too great to bear.

The tavern was where I was headed to. I had been to Fornost once before about three years ago but a lot had changed in that time. The tavern had not changed a single bit since I was last here and since I remembered correctly the upper half of the complex was an inn. That was my destination for the night. Budget-wise, I had enough for tonight and tomorrow if I was to buy new clothes and items for my next leg of my adventure. South seemed like a good idea – forget it, I would think about it later when I actually cared.

As I found myself back in the crowd the vendors were giving sales on certain poor-selling items that they seemed desperate to be rid of once and for all. Sounds like my own situation except I was just going to be rid of it completely.

The tavern’s entrance was two large, open doors and was already bustling with a variety of people. Several drunkards loitered on the steps outside too piss-faced to either go home or buy more mead. I stepped over one of the sleeping brutes and made my way into the loud hall. The stairs were being blocked by some whores looking for their night’s customers. By the looks of their smeared makeup they already had filled their pockets thoroughly.

The roof was tall and decorated with an assortment of orc helmets and rusted weaponry that no normal person could wield. The rafters curved towards the center of the building which pinched off to a large antler chandelier. Candles were glowing brightly and would last the night before someone would lower the entire piece to the floor in the early hours of the morning for restock. On the floor was about ten round tables filled with a variety of characters from card-players, to thieves, to off-duty guards, to plain old drunks with too much time and not enough love on their hands. Quite the assortment of characters, all brought along with the trading day.

Squeezing past some of the tables and dodging a bar-wench with a platter of pints I made my way to the very back to speak with the tavern master. I elbowed a few fools out of my face and yelled for the old man with the beers. “A night, how much?”

The tavern master snorted mucous and spat a large green, ball to the floor at his feet – charming, really. He worked on cleaning a glass before looking me up and down. My tattered and torn mens’ clothing must have been a hint at my travels. “Assface,” I said as he stared at me, “I asked you a question.”

Finally a rotten-toothed smile came my way, “Fer yuh darlin’? I give et to yuh fer two silvers. Beh’er than dem ‘ookers over dar.” I raised my good hand and motioned him to come my way. He spat into the base of a glass and rubbed it to a shine with his grime-ridden rag. No wonder illness was a common pastime for the people of Fornost.

“Key first, then coins. And don’t be sly with me, old man.” I held up three silvers and he scoffed. “There’s more where this came from. Especially the quieter it is.” The master was very fat and his clothes were stretched tightly across his folding flesh. He reached under his blood-stained apron and pulled out a ring of skeleton keys. I noticed that most of them were exactly the same and I watched which one he gave me with a close eye. “No,” I stopped him, he was reaching for the one that was most repetitive. “I want that one.” I pointed to the partially rusted key with four notches. He frowned, “yes, chunky, that key.” I held up three silvers in front of his face, twisted my hand to bring one more forth.

Disgruntled he handed me the key I wanted, “Fine, ‘ave it your way den!” He tossed dropped the key in my bandaged hand and I pressed the coins into his.

“Thank you kindly, ugly.” Giving a sarcastic salute I meandered off to my room. The whores were still blocking my path up the stairs but moved when I glared at them.

On the face of the key was a partially faded number two. The farthest room in back was my ticket to a decently peaceful sleep. I could hear the moans and cries of the whores and their customers as I walked by. Diseased fools, all of them.

Glancing behind me twice for good measure, I opened the door to my room. It had a small window at the far end with a bed that was made. Probably the nicest room they had that was not crusty with the activities of the average slut. Making sure the door was locked tightly behind me I almost collapsed right there. My head pressed to the wooden frame and I wondered if I would even make it to the bed across the room.

I ran my fingers over the soft blanket. Pulling at my black trench coat I tried to partially undress. I was even too exhausted to bother with asking a wench for a bath. I would find a river at some point and really wash down the stink and grime. I pulled off my pack and set it on the table next to the bed. In the morning I would make the potion and be rid of the thing inside me and I would have more of my energy back. All children were disgusting parasites.

My mind wandered towards the street rat, Kipp. Kid would probably die before he reached the age of thirteen. Too bad for him.

I lay back on the blanket and pressed my head into the pillow. I didn’t bother taking off my boots before crawling onto the bed. I ignored the blanket; my own clothes were warmth enough. My daggers rested in reach of my good hand in case something were to arise unexpectedly.

My eyes slid closed without effort – I was so tired.

For the first time in four days, I had truly slept.

It wasn’t until the sun had hidden behind the mountains of the west that the strange whispers woke me from my slumber.

The guards were at my door.

_ _ _

Note: Whew! What a long chapter! My fingers are tired now...