Memories - Locke

Memories
Locke

As much as I hate to admit it, Locke has played one of the biggest roles in my life – and one of the most important, too. Despite how much he agitates me, how much he snores, how he can't hold down his rum, the way flirts with anything that is female, his ridiculously corny one-liners, the way he can't remember anyone's name, his cocky walk, that disgusting wad of spit he flings at all of the dead corpses of our enemies, and most irritatingly, just the way he is – he is my greatest friend. Now that we have set out on this journey, he has become something much bigger. He's my family, and really – he's all that I have and treasure. . . Just don't tell him that, book.

I was 6 years old when I moved to the town of Illias Upon the Sea, on the island Murrad, alone with my mother. Although that story alone deserves an entry of its own, I will say this much – it was a brutally difficult experience that I shall never be able to erase from my memory. I felt no greater relief in my life than the day we finally arrived at the shores of that coastal capital and stepped into our new home, which would soon be known as “Fae's General Store.” As a child, my mother was always interested in chemistry, despite how unnatural it may have seemed to her family and friends. She excelled in mixing potions and creating serums; therefore, opening a store to sell her wares was the next logical step. As well as chemistry, she also had a deep interest in the arcane, which she undoubtedly passed on to me – however, I digress, as that is also a story for another time.

I was a newcomer in this soon to be harsh new world that was Murrad. Although I had been treated alright by my former neighbors and friends in our hometown, I knew I was different. I didn't know how different, however, until the people of Illias made it exceptionally clear. Despite Illias Upon the Sea being a very multicultural town, the amount of prejudice which still looms – and which I discovered within a couple of days of living there – is heartbreaking. As a half-elf, I was the butt of many sassy, crude, and cruel remarks. I was often spat on and called names by those who saw me. It was bad enough that I was a member of a different race, but being a hybrid of two merely doubled my punishment. However, please do not misunderstand. Illias had its racists, but the vast majority were kind hearted and accepting. I might have been quite happy – if it weren't for the cruel little boy I encountered merely a couple of weeks into my stay.

As a newcomer, I did my best to meet new friends within the town. One day I encountered some children playing nearby the southern beach. Mustering all the bravery I could within me, I drew a deep breath and ventured towards them. Immediately, they looked to me which curious expressions. I extended my hand, mustered the biggest smile I could, and confidently said hello as I introduced myself. As I finished, the children were silent, unsure of how to treat a newcomer to their town. However, one boy stepped forth. He was older than I was, with shaggy brown hair and a confident stride. I found myself turning red and shying away at the very sight of him, a strong feeling of butterflies fluttering in my stomach causing me to feel almost ill. These strange feelings, however, would not last long, as he immediately raised his foot and kicked forth a load of sand. It stung my eyes, and as I began to cry from the irritation, he spat the most horribly hurtful words I'd ever heard flow freely from a child's mouth. Among some of the more cruder remarks, he called me a freak of nature and trash. Suitably for a piece of trash, he then shoved me away as his friends laughed and reveled in our encounter. I ran away that day, tears flowing freely from my eyes, as I hoped I'd never come across the cruel little boy again. That hope, nonetheless, was short lived.

It was not long before I realized Locke was one of the more popular of the children in town. His little “gang” of friends, if they could be called that, were notorious among the other children. It was most difficult to walk alone outside without coming across him. Each time that we met, he was just as cruel – if not crueler – than our first encounter. Soon I would find that his entire family consisted of racists – or, at least his father, who was truly notorious for his intolerance. One fateful day, I ran home, my eyes full of tears as was typical. Usually, I would be greeted at the door by my loving mother, who would take me in her arms and comfort me as best she could. This day, however, I ran through the front door of our general store expecting love – and instead, I was met with nothing. The store was empty – no, it was closed! Fearfully, I ran to the back of the store and just as I began to open the door into the back room, I heard a quiet sobbing. Slowly, I cracked the door and peering in, I saw my mother sat on one of the crates. She was hunched over, with her face in her hands, as she cried. I stepped forward, causing the floor to creak, and her head immediately snapped up. Her face was tear-stained and her eyes were red. Without hesitation, we ran into each others arms and quietly cried together. I would come to find that Longrin Kallidin – the father of Locke Kallidin – had been to visit the new store. Upon seeing my mother at the counter, his face contorted with rage and he immediately told her how he felt about our type. Although she never told me what was said, the fight turned ugly and with a horrible snort, he spat a large wad of spit in her face and finally stomped out of the store.

I could tolerate being picked on, called names, and abused. However, seeing my mother in tears – a woman who was normally the most happy individual in town – was the final straw. I was sad, angry, and above all confused. It had to stop.

One day, I ventured into the Merchant's Circle on my own. On other days, I would have known better – because the circle was one of Locke and his gang's favourite places to play. Nevertheless, on this day, I felt cold and empty. I didn't care what anyone had to say to me. Unfortunately, I was in Illias permanently. Therefore, I refused to be abused anymore. I strolled slowly through the Merchant's Circle, in hopes of finding a small gift to bring the smile back to my mother's face. As I gazed thoughtfully at one of the merchant's wares, I saw from the corner of my eye a figure approaching. Quickly, I glanced over to see that it was Locke, who seemed to be on his own this day. I tried my best to stand my ground as he approached; however, my knees soon began to shake beneath me and I felt sick. I had to get away, and fast.

Without much thought, I spun around and began a fast walk out of the area. I ventured quickly into the trees which surrounded the town center – which gave the Merchant's Circle its name – and ducked behind one of the thickest I could find. My heart was beating rapidly and heavily in fear as I stood in wait, hoping I wasn't noticed. Moments passed, and feeling satisfied that he was long gone, I stepped from behind the tree – merely to crash into the boy's chest with a thump. I looked up in horror as he glared at me, before he gave me a hard shove back, forcing me against the tree after which he cussed at me in his usual manner. Clenching my eyes shut tightly, I tried to keep the tears back when suddenly I felt myself lurch forwards and shove him back. I screamed up at him, calling him many of the same names he spouted at me on a regular basis. Enraged at my boldness, he thrust his hands forward and gave me a another mighty shove. I fell to the ground in such a way that the very breath was sucked from my lungs. I gasped and soon found myself in tears, crying more sadly than ever before. I was exactly as he always said – I was a weak and puny little freak. I couldn't even defend myself against a 9 year old boy. I clutched the dirt from the ground beneath me in my hands and finally mustered enough courage to look up at him. He raised his foot in the air, to which I immediately closed my eyes as I readied myself for the violent blow. Suddenly, however, I instead experienced a feeling of weightlessness. I was brought to my feet and as I opened and wiped my eyes, I saw him for the first time.

At almost 7 feet tall, the old Dragonborn towered above us. He stood in front of me, his shadow casting over my pathetic form, as he held a scared little Locke in his left hand by the scruff of his neck – the boy kicking and punching at anything he could with no avail. Placing his free hand – big enough to surely crush me on the slightest whim! – on top of my head, the man looked down at me and uttered these exact words.

“Come. From this day forward, you two are under my authority. You will be my wards, and without a word of complaint, you shall do as I say. This way – come!”

His voice echoed with such power and force that I felt myself immediately drawn to follow him. We would eventually come to a large building, newly built on the southwestern shore line and nestled into the mountains which surround Illias on its western side. I would come to know this massive, powerful Dragonborn as Akorrin. From that day forth, he was our mentor and trainer – whether we liked it or not. Although Locke never admitted it, I always believed he was too scared to run from him, as was I. Wrong or not, Akorrin succeeded in frightening us to our core so that we came to his training dojo every single day. Although quite wary at first, I would come to enjoy these sessions, as I learned for the first time in my life how to defend myself. Most importantly, I was defending myself against the greatest enemy I'd ever had – Locke himself.

No matter how hard I tried to be his friend, he would have nothing to do with me. He simply treated me as if I were another one of Akorrin's wooden training dummies. He fought me with a cold glare which I could never shake. It scared me, but with Akorrin's encouragement, I kept fighting back as best as I could. Akorrin gave me the very first weapon I'd ever held in my hands – my dagger. Its handle was studded in red stones and as I held it, I felt like an entirely different person. He told me that if I could learn to fight and defend myself, I wouldn't be afraid and the pain of being abused would be diminished. Indeed, merely holding it made me feel braver. Yet, when Locke walked into the building with his sickle in hand – a weapon Akorrin had also given him – all the courage in the world couldn't stop me from feeling afraid. Locke didn't know it at the time, but I wasn't angry at him. I wasn't fighting every day to seek some sort of vengeance against him either.

I just wanted him to respect me.

Six long years soon passed. I slowly made my way to the dojo one day, as I did everyday, still feeling sore from the day before. As I made my way through the front entrance, I discreetly removed my sheathed dagger from my bag. Although I had told my mother about Akorrin and the training I endured everyday, about which she was not at all pleased to hear, I didn't want her to know about the weapon quite yet. The mere fact a stranger had taken me under his wing and was teaching me how to be violent was quite a lot for a mother to bear! She had noticed, however, that I did not come home crying like I once did; therefore, she allowed me to continue my training, despite her disapproval. Nevertheless, I digress. I took my dagger and attached it to my belt. As I looked up, I expected to see my master waiting to give me my orders for the day; instead, I was met with the cold gaze of Locke. Slightly taken aback for a moment, I slowly approached. With his usual bluntness, he uttered:

“Akorrin has gone into town for supplies. However, he wants us training on the cliffs, immediately.”

Without another word, he then turned and began to make his way towards the back, where a path to the mountain side awaited. I said nothing – used to his way of behaving towards me – and followed a safe distance behind him. Soon, we arrived at one of our usual training locations – the cliffs, as we called them. Simply put, the cliffs were located on a steep mountainside, standing before the ocean. In hindsight, it was an extremely dangerous place to be; any sort of fall would lead to a fatality as the ocean below was scattered with sharp and jagged rocks. However, we were disciplined and knew better of approaching the cliffs too closely. In silence, we turned to each other in our usual way and slowly began to spar, as the whistle of ocean wind flew past us.

Shortly into our training session, there came a sudden voice from behind us. I stopped immediately, just missing a swing from Locke's sickle. He soon turned as well as we tried to decipher where the noise had come from. Soon, shadows began to rise from the nearby brush. Five men seemingly from the local tavern emerged – obviously intoxicated beyond their wits. The least drunk of the five looked ahead and immediately saw us staring at them with slightly curious expressions. He squinted before quickly thrusting his hand in the air, which held a bottle of spirits, spinning it in a windmill-like movement as he motioned for the other four to look towards us. Slurring, the man managed some words as he glanced at his acquaintances:

“It's that. . . that Locke kid! And he's got that half-shmelf or whatever wit' em. D'hink you're tough stuff eh boy? Heh. . . eh. . . we'll show you tough, kid!”

To our surprise, the gang quickly stumbled towards us, with violent intentions. Locke sheathed his weapon, as did I, in order to negotiate with the drunken fools. However, they had no time for words. They began to violently swing their fists in an attempt at attacking us, which we first defended ourselves against with ease. Yet, we were outnumbered and confused at how to defend ourselves against the drunks without in turn hurting them needlessly. Suddenly, I was caught off guard. One of the drunks, with an evil cackle, swung his bottle into my back – the bottle smashing on contact as it immediately winded me and caused me to collapse. I felt a few more violent blows before my head mistakenly collided with something hard – most likely a boulder. Everything went black.

I eventually came to. I couldn't have been unconscious for more than a few moments, however, as the men were still there. Without help, Locke was now on the ground and defenseless as the five ganged up on him, kicking him in the head and gut violently. Clutching my own gut – which for some reason ached with great pain – I painfully made it to my feet. I had to think fast before the men could injure him seriously. I clenched my eyes shut, trying to think hard despite the headache which now ravaged my thoughts. I thought back to the things Akorrin had taught me. Above all, I could not harm these innocents – despite how not innocent they really were! Suddenly, I felt a scream flow freely from my mouth as I yelled to get the drunkards' attention. Immediately, they looked away from Locke – who now laid on the very edge of the cliff, clutching himself and bleeding – and looked to me with venom in their expressions. Slowly, as they seemed tired from kicking us around, they approached me.

I hesitated, but I had to think fast. Finally, I thrust my hands forward, muttering a spell my mother had taught me under my breath. They were slightly taken aback, yet they did not stop. I clenched my eyes shut so tightly, praying to any deity that would listen. Finally, a large ball of fire began to materialize before me. It roared as its heat reached and caressed anything within range; the grass beneath it burned and was left black and singed. The drunkards stopped in fright, yet they did not run; in turn, as I struggled to control the fire, I motioned for it to move towards them. Immediately, they were ready to flee. With loud cries of confusion, they bumped and tripped over one another as they began to run quickly away down the mountainside – back down into town, no doubt.

I sighed my greatest sigh of relief as I relaxed and let the fireball before me slowly disappear. The adrenaline rush having run its course for the moment, my head immediately began to pound again as I clutched it for a moment. I had no time however, as I needed to make sure Locke was alright. I looked ahead, and he had slowly began to make his way to his knees. I sighed again, yet the relief was short lived. As he stood, the cliff began to slowly crumble below him; it was sure to collapse.

I ran forward with a cry to which he looked up, but before either of us could respond, the cliff could not bear the weight of Locke's body and it gave. He cried as the ground fell beneath him and I skidded to a halt before the edge. Quickly throwing my hand down, I reached for anything I could grab a hold of. To my instantaneous relief, his hand found mine, which I grasped tightly. As his body fell, I felt a great jerk; however, I clutched the ground beneath me as best as I could. Slowly, I began to slide towards the edge. I glanced down, and saw Locke's eyes staring into my own; he was frightened beyond comprehension. I squeezed his hand in mine and assured him I wouldn't let go. Yet, despite all my training, I wasn't strong enough. My head was pounding and every part of me seemed to ache – ultimately, his weight was too great for me to handle and I suddenly jerked forward, surely to fall down onto the rocks below.

It was then that I felt a sudden weightlessness – much like when I was a child – before I was finally stood safely on the solid ground. Unbeknownst to myself, Akorrin had arrived at the dojo and made his way to the cliff after hearing a scream. He arrived just in time to snatch my falling body from the cliff side, lifting us both up with his great strength and setting us down safely. Never before had we been so happy to see the old Dragonborn as we were that day! Both collapsing to the ground, we panted and bled, exhausted. It was not at all unreasonable when Akorrin decided we had experienced enough, letting us retire home for the day. The look on my mother's face that night was, to put it lightly, quite a shocked one.

Despite the great pain we suffered, I will always look to that day with a smile – for it was that day that everything between Locke and I changed. He began to speak to me, as if I were just another person! Soon, we had full blown conversations, even cracking the occasional joke. The best had yet to come.

It was a few weeks after our difficult encounter. We trained within the dojo, overlooked by the watchful eye of Akorrin. Locke, armed with his sickle, took a hard uppercut-like swing at me with the handle he gripped in his hand. Miscalculating my parry, I only served to dive directly into the swing's path as it collided with my chin with a violent crack. I stumbled back and to the floor, grasping my chin in great pain. Finally, as I shook it off and opened my eyes, I saw a hand hovering in front of me. Locke now stood before me, his hand extended. As I looked up at him, I saw something I had never seen before. He was smiling! As I gawked up at him, he simply bent over and scooped up my free hand, quickly pulling me up to my feet. With a grin, he observed my surprised expression, and said:

“What? Never seen a guy smile before?”

I felt a great smile light my own face as he said those words – as they still cause me to whenever I think about them. From that day forth, we were inseparable. We were friends. Locke and I were destined for greatness. We were a team. Together, we were strong, and Akorrin could see it. Although he watched on that day with his usual stern demeanor, his voice seemed different – slightly more cheerful. What he had worked for all those 6 years had finally payed off: Locke and I finally got along – and now the true training could begin.

. . . Unfortunately for myself, I could have never predicted that the cold hearted boy could change so drastically and become the person I have come to know today: a womanizing, drunk brute with no manners! Mind, we have both changed over the years. Knowing him has slightly drawn me from my shell, I suppose. I began to speak out more often – and I suppose I might be known to spout a few sarcastic remarks every now and then!

Okay, well. . . I say a lot of sarcastic things, a lot of which I never actually mean. I suppose it's a bit of a. . . defense mechanism. After all, I don't want to be hurt ever again, and as I think back to the way Locke once was towards me – I actually get quite scared. To think such a fun loving person could have been so cruel is beyond my comprehension. Yet, even as we continue to adventure together, I cannot take it off my mind. One of my greatest fears is that one day he'll learn to hate me again – that everything his father had taught him about me was true. I may not be the most clever or witty person. Beyond my books, I haven't got a clue about the world. I'm also probably not the. . . most attractive girl on the island either.

Despite the nasty things I say to him, I. . . care for Locke. I care for him and I hope that inside, despite all the women he sets his eyes upon, he cares for me, too. I may call him ugly, or stupid, or even question him on his hygiene. He may keep me awake at night with his snoring. He may eat all of my food when my back is turned. He may spit a lot and make gross noises with his body. He may be a silly drunk and he – well, I digress. In a nutshell, he may be a bumbling fool, but. . . he's my bumbling fool. And I wish our journey could last forever. Because, truly. . . I never want to leave his side. And if I have to fight stinky Orcs and scary giant spiders to keep him near, then so be it! Because every time I feel his gaze or even the slightest touch, I feel at peace, and most importantly, I feel truly happy. Maybe my mother wasn't so wrong about Locke and I. . . Yet. . . No, I could never bear to tell him that! He'd never let me live it down! Grrr. . . Even when I try to say nice things about him, he makes me so mad!

Sigh. I suppose I should end it here before I say anything else embarrassing. So there you are, book. Locke in a nutshell – and trust me, he sounds a lot better on paper than he actually is, that dolt!






. . .And, yes. I don't actually mean that.