Tales Of Skyrim: The Blind Mage

Chapter One

Sorcline found herself sitting at a table in Candlehearth Hall, mentally planning for the next leg of her trip. The mage college of Winterhold; a place she had been dreaming of since a child, and now as an adult she was making the pilgrimage. Being a Breton, it was natural for her to be drawn to the arcane arts, but there was more to it than that.
At the age of seven, her family's farm went up in flames and not only claimed her parents' lives, but also her sight. Wandering the streets of Whiterun, she became the towns resident orphan and was fortunate every now and then when the villagers took pity and gave her food. After three years of sleeping behind sheds and in the corners of the city walls, a mage came to the small trade city.

All the children gathered around him, including herself, cheering to see sparks and fire tricks. Of course, she couldn't see any of the show, but she could listen to the sound of the crackling and the laughter. Towards the end of the performance, the mage handed out exotic flowers to the girls and boar horns to the boys. She held the flower in her hands and smelled its sweet fragrance. It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever smelled, only taking second to the aroma of fresh bread. With their new gifts in hand, the children dashed off pushing the unaware Breton girl to the ground. The flower was jostled from her grasp. Panicked at the loss, she began to crawl along the stone path, searching for the touch of soft petals.

"It's right there," the mage tried to direct her.

"Left or right sir?" she asked, sliding her hands over the smooth stones.

"Oh... you're blind," he finally noticed.

"Yes. I'm sorry to trouble you, but could you perhaps tell me what direction to go in?" she asked in the kindest tone.

"Here," he bent down and took her hand to place the flower in her child-size palm.

"Oh, thank you, sir."

"What's your name?" he asked, helping her to her feet.

"Sorcline, sir." She held the flower tight but was careful not to crush the petals.

"Where do you live?"

"Nowhere, sir," she gazed forward, unsure how tall he was.

"Nowhere?" he repeated, confused. Perhaps he thought it child's play or a riddle.

"Well, sometimes I sleep in the far corner past the blacksmith. It's the easiest to find since I can smell the smelter and it gives me direction."

"Wait. Am I to believe you sleep outside?" his voice filled with shock.

"Well, yes. My parents are gone you see. And this was the closest settlement to our farm. The guards brought me here, and here is where I've stayed." She gave a shrug to signal her coming to terms with the situation.

"And you use your nose to find your way around?" he asked, seeming intrigued by the habits of a blind ten-year-old.

"Well, yes. It's one of the few things I got left," she smiled. "I can smell the mead from the inn, and that tells me where the market is. There are all sorts of things to hear and smell, and people with their sight don't even notice them."

"Huh, you are quite the interesting girl. I know older folk who have lost their sight, and have no such optimism when it comes to their handicap."

"I don't call it a handicap, just unfortunate circumstance. By chance, sir, could you tell me what time of day it is?" Sorcline asked. She heard him shuffle, probably looking for the sun.