Chapter 18
The high elf woke up. Sweat dropped out of his forehead and chest rapidly. He looked around with his eyes – but his vision was blurry and poor. His body was aching due to the intense running and his stomach groaned painfully at his hunger. But most of all, he was thirsty. His tongue twitched in his mouth, and his throat was like sandpaper. Each breath he rasped out scratched against his esophagus, and he tasted blood.
He tried to move, but his legs did not respond. He was surprised at how thin he had become.
"You're awake?" A gruff voice asked.
The elf looked around, his eyes still faint. He could make out a black shape with his blurred vision.
He tried to speak, but began coughing instead.
The black shape rose slowly and brought a bottle to the elf's lips.
"Take it slowly. In small sips. There's plenty left so-"
The elf immediately began coughing rapidly as he sucked the water down like a madman. Blood and water spurted out of his mouth, and his eyes watered at the pain.
The blurred figure cursed under his breath and began wiping the water with a cloth.
"Thank you." The high elf said. He was still coughing, and his voice was so weak that the figure barely heard him.
"I suppose you are wondering why you're here." The stranger started, and sat down on a nearby chair.
The elf shook his head. "I remember being dragged down, but that was it." He said.
"That's all you remember?" The stranger asked.
"Yes… That is all." The elf answered.
For a moment, the two were silent. Many calculations and questions were raised in their minds, but not spoken.
It was the elf who spoke after the silence.
"Whose side are you on?" He asked bluntly.
His question was met with a snort, and the stranger left his chair.
'Where is he going? Is he going to kill me?' The elf thought. He was too tired to resist, and was sick of his life.
'At least it will be a peaceful death…' He thought to himself.
Much to his surprise, the stranger came back, holding a steaming bowl.
"How are your eyes?" The stranger asked.
"I feel them recovering slowly. Thank you."
The stranger put the bowl next to the elf, and handed him the spoon. With his eyes, the elf could make out a hairy face, with a long, brown beard.
Sweat trickled down the elf's neck.
'An Imperial…? Will he torture me for information? Hand me over to the Blades?'
The elf gripped his spoon tightly. He had hoped for a peaceful death, with minimal pain. But should this man were to torture him-
"Relax. I'm no soldier." The Imperial said.
"I know what you are though." He continued, as he began pouring himself a bowl of corn pottage.
"Aldmeri. Thalmor. Damn filthy elf." He stated each name bluntly, but the elf swore he heard him chuckle at the last remark.
"Why do you suppose I saved you?" The Imperial asked.
The elf grabbed his bowl of corn pottage and stared blankly into its yellow contents, glistening in the candlelight.
"I have no idea." He replied.
The Imperial snorted again.
"I thought you elves were supposed to be smart?" He teased him.
"I wasn't smart enough." The elf smiled bitterly.
The Imperial stopped suddenly, and stared at the elf intently.
"Do you read, elf?" He asked.
The elf raised an eyebrow. What was this man thinking?
"If you are asking about whether or not I am literate-"
"I didn't mean that." The Imperial interrupted.
"Do you read any literature? As a hobby?" He asked again.
The elf was more confused than before.
"I read often." The Imperial stated. He was answering his own question.
"It's all that I can really do in these mountains… It helps with my view on the world. It helps me see things with precision."
The elf didn't stop eating while the Imperial kept talking. It was clear he wasn't focusing.
"I know that you're that deserter they're looking for. You probably joined the Thalmor at a young age, hoping to solve the 'wrongs' of man. You were easily swayed by propaganda, and now you regret the blood on your hands, the innocents killed, and you can't sleep at night because of the screams that echo in your head."
The elf stopped eating this time. The room was dead silent.
The Imperial continued. "Your kinsman see you as nothing more than a useless coward who ran from battle, after killing your comrades. You have nowhere to go now, and now you welcome death. But fear still has a hold of you… That would explain your reaction when you saw what I am."
"And what of it?" The elf asked.
"So what if I'm a coward? So what if I'm a deserter who learned too late that the only use for a military is to be a killer of fathers and husbands?" The elf's eyes shook with anger. His emotions surpassed his weak body, and gave him a strong appearance.
The Imperial sighed.
"I saved you for the purpose of hoping to preserve another source of life. I'm sure that's something new to you, with you being more of a taker of life."
The elf was silent for a moment, as his mind automatically flashed images of the many people he had killed, all under the name of 'elven supremacy.'
"I was like you once." The Imperial continued.
"But after devastation, and falling into the hellish abyss known as guilt; I learned how to atone for my sins and to make sure I never became something like that ever again."
The elf asked: "What was your answer? Please, tell me how to be strong so that guilt will not haunt me."
"That is an answer you must find on your own." He answered.
The Imperial then rose, and began climbing up a nearby ladder that leaded to a trapdoor.
"I'll return soon. You should rest some more. If you get bored, there are books on the shelf behind you. Hopefully they will help you think for yourself, other than fighting battles for an unwanted cause."
To be continued