Legacy Rewritten

In a Bind

After a moment, I turned back towards the lake, contemplating if I was ready to return to the castle yet. I probably should, seeing as the boys were going to be expecting me...and that whole idea of a curfew? I suppose that was somewhat recommended, but I don't think that I'll be heeding that as often as Professor Weasley and Headmaster Black would like. I watched as the sun sunk behind the distanced mountains, causing a beautiful slew of purple, pink and orange to paint the sky before it slowly faded into a navy blue-black sky, littered with glittering stars. Sighing, I decided to stay out a bit longer as I grew curious to see that there were two people outside of their homes, seemingly on patrol? I couldn't quite tell, so I made my way closer to the middle of the hamlet and saw a man standing at his table, selling wares as if it was day time, and a goblin that seemed to be anxious. The whole scene gave me an odd feeling. One, because no one else had come to aid Nora and I, not that we had needed it but it would've been nice. And two, if things were as dangerous as Nora's wife had told her, why would there be a need for a goblin and a street vendor to be out at night. Not that I had any room to judge what with being out late myself. I guess, in the end, that's what propelled me forward as I made my way, cautiously, to the goblin first. 

"I never thought Ranrok's loyalists would go this far..." the goblin muttered in concern, and I'd imagine he actually thought he was speaking quietly since he didn't recognize that someone had come to stand in front of his pacing form. He stopped suddenly as his gaze shifted from his feet to the mysterious feet that showed up beside him. He stumbled back, slightly in shock, when he realized that he actually did see a pair of feet as his eyes met my own. "Oh, pardon me sir, I didn't mean to scare you. Are you alright?" I feigned innocent, not quite sure what to make of the goblin in front of me, other than the fact that he seemed to be in need of assistance. "Well, I'm a little distraught actually; I just lost my business! Ranrok and a couple of his loyalists came through here not too long ago and they ransacked this poor hamlet. I was coming back from getting some more paints in Hogsmeade when they rounded on me. Ranrok wanted me to join his ranks, saying that 'even the weaker ones could be useful', but I denied him. Not just for my own sake, but also because I highly disagree with his mentality in everything that's been occurring lately. He didn't like my answer one bit, ordering for his loyalists to beat me to death. He left, apparated out of here actually which brought quite a shock to me, but they beat me anyways.

I'm convinced that I'd be dead had it not been for one of the loyalists to recognize me and he managed to convince the other two that I'd be dead soon anyways, that they needed to get back to work, whatever that meant. They left me to die here, but they took my carts, all of my art supplies, even that which is most precious to me...my paintings! I couldn't even admire my craft as I started to drift, not before that man over by his cart came out and began healing me," the goblin explained, putting his hands on his head as he seemed to be trying to calm himself down after getting a bit riled up again. I leant forward and passed him another Wiggenweld, him taking it immediately and thanking me as his breathing seemed to even out again. "Why would Ranrok attack you though? And then to take your stuff...seems quite pointless to me at least. Also, I didn't catch your name," I replied, hoping that my words sounded more empathetic to him. "Oh, I'm Arn, it's a pleasure. And to answer your question, Ranrok attacked me because he has no patience for traitors, for those who refuse to join his 'noble cause' as he called it. As for my carts and paintings? I'm sure they'll just end up being used as kindling. Ranrok and his loyalists don't seem like the type to have the capability to embrace and appreciate the meaning and beauty behind my works, after all," he replied, giving a slight smirk before his frown from before resurfaced.

"Oh Arn, I'm so sorry. Has this happened before? The hamlet did seem oddly empty when my friend and I arrived here earlier. It's eerily quiet despite the fact that it is nighttime, " I shivered feeling the colder wind start to blow in from the lake, I was pleased by my cloak in that moment, glad I hadn't abandoned it in the castle due to how warm it has been today. "Oh yes, Ranrok has been through here several times. They've run nearly everyone off! Ranrok, Rookwood, Harlow...all of them only know how to convey violence. There's not a gentle bone in their bodies, and now I know that for sure seeing how his loyalists treated me. They think that they're unstoppable, invincible even as Ranrok increases in power. Because of that as well, Ranrok believes that any goblin will join them, drunk with the promise of dark power of their own, but he's wrong. There's many goblins, myself included, who would prefer a diplomatic ending to this disagreement between our kind and wizard-kind," he stated, taking me a little off guard since the real root of the issue hadn't been addressed by me, and here he was teaching me a bit more about compassion and how important it is. He seemed to begin to get glum again, so I changed the subject: "Are you a painter?" "Oh yes, it's quite an usual calling for a goblin I suppose, but maybe that's why I find it so intriguing. It brings me great joy to create rather than to destroy, or even to sit around making metal or at a musty desk all day," Arn said as his passion rang clearly through his voice.