Tran Morgik (Pure fantasy version)

The old Orc leaned down and took a hold of the Dwarf’s chin and pulled his head up.
‘Wakey, wakey, Dwarven scum. Remembered yer name today have yer?’
‘I -,’
The Orc snapped to attention with his eyes glazed, ‘Prisoner will wait fer permission to speak.’ The Orc blinked for a moment and then leaned closer, ‘Course, yer can always scream whenevers yer wants. Makes me heart warm and brings tears to...well, yer eyes anyway.’ The Orc laughed, ‘What’s we gonna do with yer? Yers that has no name but a spy all the same.’
The old Orc shook his head sadly, ‘Best part of six months you and I have played this
game. Yer rations was cut last month so I’ve been feedin’ yer part of me own...I just wanted yer to know that I kind of thinks of yers as a friend.’ The Orc kicked the Dwarf in the stomach. ‘Not a very good friend, but we’s had a lot of fun together. Well, I’s ‘ave... Still, all good things.’
The Dwarf gasped for air but made no other move.
The old Orc gazed down and frowned, ‘I reckons that yer ‘bout done in. You really don’t even know who yer is, do yer?’ He picked up the wooden plate of porridge that he had brought with him and pressed it into the Dwarf’s face. ‘Yer used to hate that...Nothing from yer now though. Guess yer lost the will. Tomorrow then and I’ll make it real quick fer yer. No need to fret on it.’
The Orc moved to the cell door and looked back at the Dwarf. ‘I’m called Jodaks. Never had a real friend before. Sorry, mate. I’m gonna really miss yer, yer knows.’ He left the cell and closed the door quietly behind him.
The Dwarf sat motionless in the darkness for an hour...
He ran his hand up to his face and touched the sticky mess there. He looked at his fingertips and saw that the white foodstuff had mixed with a darker substance. ‘Blood,’ he whispered. ‘I’m bleeding...Beaten.’ He shook his head and frowned, ‘Who is bleeding? I am bleeding, but...’ He looked to the wall to his left and slowly crawled to it; the manacle dug into his right wrist. He ran his left hand over the stone and rested his head against one of the blocks, ‘You’re Dwarven stone. I’ve met you before. Was it yesterday?’ He ran his hand over its rough surface and closed his eyes. ‘I don’t believe that I’ll be here tomorrow so this is goodbye. Remember me...me...when I’m gone.’ He continued to run his hand over the stone and suddenly felt grooves scratched into the surface. ‘You’ve been hurt.’ He eased his head back and peered at the wall. Scrawled into the stonework were the letters “T”, “R” and “A”.
‘Tra ?’ asked the Dwarf of the stone. He looked down and saw a rusty nail. He picked it up and sniffed at it. ‘Stone harmer.’ He glared at the nail and then the anger ebbed from him. He weighed the piece of metal in his hand and then passed it to his right. He ran his fingers over the carved letters. He looked at the palm of his left hand and saw a rust stain. He looked back at the letters... ’I did this?’
‘Tra?’ He raised the nail and ran it through the grooves as he traced the three letters. When he had finished he paused the nail over the next clear place. He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the stones. ‘What should I write? What should come next? T.R.A....T.R.A....T.R.A....T.R.A....N.’
He opened his eyes and set to work on carving an “N” into the stone. When he had finished he leaned back and looked at the word. ‘Tran, Tran?’
‘Tran?’ whispered the Dwarf.
The door swung open and light from a torch spilled in.
An Orc guard ambled into the cell with an unlit candle in one hand and a plate in the other. ‘I thought I’d bring me dinner down here and let you watch me eat it.’ He put the plate on the table and set the candle before it. He struck a strike and set it to the candle.
Tran continued to stare at the letters
The Orc kicked the door closed and sat down behind the table. ‘Would you like a sniff?’
Tran inserted the nail into the lock mechanism and wriggled it. The lock gave and the metal dropped to the stone floor.
‘What are yer doin’?’ The Orc stood up and started to cross the cell.
‘Nart,’ he whispered and his eyes opened wide. ‘Nart,’ he said a little louder.
‘Is that yer name then little fella?’ sneered the Orc. ‘Strange name more like a -,’
Tran gave the Orc a sideways glance; his eyes glinted evilly in the light of the candle.
‘Don’t yer looks at me like that,’ said the Orc and reached for his sword. He looked down in horror as he found that he was not carrying one.
Tran crawled towards the Orc.
‘Yer just keeps yersenn over there.’
‘Nart,’ growled Tran.
The Orc swallowed hard, ‘Only havin’ fun with yer, mate?’
‘I, Tran Morgik.’
‘Course yer is. Now you knows who yer is, yer can claim yers spied on us.’
‘I Tran Morgik shall carve my name...into your worthless hide.’
Suddenly, the Orc reached down to his boot and pulled a dagger free. ‘Old Jodaks should ‘ave done yer weeks back. Still, save him the trouble of removin’ the light from yer eyes. Reckons he wouldn’t ‘ave done it anyway, yer the only one that ever listens to him.’
Tran shakily climbed to his feet.
The Orc stepped back behind the small table. ‘You makes much more of a move and I’ll ‘ave yer!’
Tran walked up to the table, leaned forward and blew out the candle.
Darkness...
‘Here now, little fella. Call out so I can place this blade in yer.’
‘Nart.’
‘Where was that?’
‘Nart.’
‘What are yer doing over-,’
‘Nart.’
‘You steps back. I knows that yer right close.’
‘Nart!’
‘Give me backs me dagger...On second thoughts keeps it.’
Suddenly, the cell door opened and the Orc ran out into the semi-lit corridor and struck the opposite wall.
‘Nart!’ cried Tran and flew out of the darkness and planted the dagger square in the Orc’s back.
Both collapsed to the stones.
Tran picked himself up and leaned heavily against the wall. He reached down and pulled the dagger free and gripped the handle tightly. His breathing sounded loud and ragged to his ears. ‘I remember,’ he breathed at last. ‘I remember.’ There was body in his voice now. ‘The Dwarf is back,’ he growled.
He pushed himself away from the wall. ‘The Dwarf is back,’ he cried. He looked at his blood-covered hands, ‘A little older and a great deal thinner.’ He edged along the passageway.
Suddenly, a door at the far end of the passage opened and a second squat figure stood beyond it.
The Orc guard caught sight of Tran and drew a curved sword. ‘Prepare to die, short shaft,’ he called and advanced with malice upon his features.
‘Nart,’ whispered Tran.
The Orc stopped and cocked his head to one side.
‘Nart!’ said the Dwarf a little louder.
The Orc took a step back as he caught sight of the bloody dagger in the Dwarf’s hand and the madness in his eyes. ‘Yer holds yersenn there till I calls fer help.’
‘Nart!’ cried Tran and launched himself with all his strength down the passage towards the Orc.
The Orc’s eyes opened wide in surprise and then he was back peddling towards the safety of the doorway.
Tran threw the dagger just as his strength left him; stumbled and fell. He struck his head upon the uneven flooring.
Darkness...
Tran opened his eyes and stared into those of the Orc in the doorway.
The Orc and Dwarf made no move.
Tran blinked.
The Orc did not.
Tran regained his feet and walked determinedly towards the doorway. He bent down and pulled the dagger from the Orc’s chest and pushed it into his belt. He deftly searched the corpse’s pockets and retrieved three copper coins. He tried to lift the sword but could not; his strength had all but gone. ‘You should have known that we’re made of rock.’
Tran stood up and wiped the sweat from his brow. He listened intently but there was no sound of approach. He sniffed at the air and caught the lighter smell of outside and followed after it.
Tran followed dimly lit passageways and ever the smell of outside grew stronger until at last he could see daylight spill down a set of stone steps.
He planted his feet firmly upon the base step and looked up at the back of an Orc guard high above. Slowly, he took each step in turn until he was right behind the sentry.
‘Nart,’ whispered Tran.
The Orc turned around and his eyes opened wide in surprise as he caught sight of the Dwarf.
‘Express my gratitude-,’
The Orc reached for his sword.
Tran took a hold of the Orc’s tunic and pulled.
The Orc flew passed him and bounced down the steps.
‘On second thoughts, I think the message is clear.’
Tran climbed up the last few steps and looked quickly about at the barrow ground. He began to cry. ‘I never thought I would be glad to see the open.’ He grabbed a clump of grass and rubbed it against his nose and inhaled the sweet smell.
Tran wept...
When he could cry no more he stood up straight and glared down into the darkness. ‘Now then boys. You and I have a few scores to settle.’ He felt a sharp pain in his ribs...’Guess it’ll have to wait though. Your lucky day.’
Suddenly, he heard the alarm call and several shouts from the Orcs. ‘Time to run.’ He staggered away from the opening and headed towards the nearest barrow at a fast walk. He crossed the flat grassland and began to strain as he clambered up the near side. He reached the top and sat down heavily and gathered his breath.
He rolled into a lying position and peered at the opening.
Orcs spilled out, ten toes or more in number.
Tran slid a little way down from the ridge on the far side. He rolled down the grassy slope and came to a halt at its base. He picked himself up and looked at the overgrown pathway that ran passed. ‘No chance,’ he whispered. ‘Short legs and no strength.’ He turned and studied the fallen stonework that had once sealed the entrance to the sacred place.
Tran sniffed at the darkness. ‘Death,’ he breathed.
‘Over ‘ere ‘en!’ shouted a voice from the other side of the mound.
Tran looked quickly around and shook his head. ‘For a choice,’ he sighed. He held his breath and scurried into the darkness.
Tran moved deeper into the barrow as the voices drew near.
‘In ‘ere, must be.’
‘No way. Yer can go in if yers a feelin’ he be there. More as like somethin’ dead waitin’ to taste yer.’
‘Gets in there and shuts it!’
‘Shuts it yersenn! No way. He off and scurried towards that village.’
‘I...I reckons yer could be right. These stones are already reclaimed so he not pull ‘em down. No point in wakin’ dead to ask a direction or two, I always say.’
‘Yeah. Always fond of that sayin’ of yers.’
The Orcs hurried away.
Tran sat up and felt at his ankle and rubbed hard at it.
He waited for his eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness which was even greater than that which gathered in his cell.
He looked to the floor and found an old axe. He picked it up and felt it’s weight.
‘I knew that you wouldn’t have left me,’ said a voice from behind him.