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Heretics and Extremists	By : Inxathekhajiit Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 5671 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim, nor any of the characters from it. I receive no profit for the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Chapter 6

If things had been bad before, they were much worse now that his excessive amounts of skin were revealed. He kept as much distance from Ulfric as he was allowed, but no matter how he held himself, he stuck out like a sore thumb. Even the maids were chuckling.
The Thalmor were not so much modest as they did not dare let the undeserving glimpse much of their skin. Now everyone was getting an eyeful and he could feel his blood pressure rise several numbers by the second.
“Is it that cold, elf, or are you just poorly endowed?-“ One of the guards jeered as they walked by.
Blood boiling, he finally felt electrical pulse twitching at his fingertips. Despite his low reserve of magicka, his fury was building it faster than the cuffs could drain it.
He stayed red faced and furious when he was forced to stand aside as Ulfric had a word with the Jarl of Solitude and the men he’d appointed to keep an eye on her. He remained quiet and begrudgingly obedient as they left with a warning from the Stormcloak that he’d lose what little cloth he had on if he didn’t keep his hands to himself.
To his immense chagrin, he found himself being lead out into the city again where they met up with a band of Stormcloak soldiers on horseback. Ondolemar attempted to ignore their immediate cat-calls of ‘look at the mighty Thalmor now!’, ‘no wonder they wear those big cloaks!’ and ‘do those toothpicks really hold you up or is it magic!?’
Oh yes. They were all GREATLY amused at his expense, and Ulfric predictably did nothing to stop their fun.
The high elf was more FURIOUS than humiliated, that is until Ulfric too mounted a horse and lead the little party along at a trotting pace. The embarrassing part being that one of the wretched soldiers saw fit to sling a lasso about his neck and yank it hard. He cursed and spat and hissed as the bastard drug him along forcefully as if he were some animal. “Keep up, elf or find yourself hanged hahah!!”
At first he refused to be pulled, but was forced to keep up pace lest the rope tighten anymore. He clenched his teeth in unmatched rage and boiled magicka below the surface; now really giving the cuffs a run for their money.
The soldier riding to the left of him had a lance and kept shoving it’s long handle out to trip him as he struggled enough just to keep in pace. Eventually he ran out of the energy to keep cursing at the filth and bitterly hung his head and let his imagination soothe his wants to destroy them all. He needed every drop of energy he could gather.
Ulfric ignored him entirely until the little band of people reached the gates, where a small crowd was gathered. One of the women there called up: “Is it really him?! The elf?”
The stormcloak trotted his horse about and motioned to the roped Altmer with a low bellow. “Well, is it you, Justicier Ondolemar?”
The elf gasped lightly and shot daggers at the small crowd. He pulled at the rope with one hand; still trying to get out of it without the soldier wringing it up in response. “Yes, it is I!” He called back to the woman angrily. “You will have your conqueror to thank when the Thalmor BURN this shit-hole til only dust remains-“
Not such a good idea, as it turned out. This comment earned him a well aimed rotten tomato in the face, which only seemed to help the festering frustration of the community boil over.
It was pretty clear that these were the same people whom he had helped torture, or had interrogated, or who had lost family or loved ones to the Thalmor’s cleansing. Within moments he was being battered from every angle with rotten vegetables and whatever filth or heavy projectiles they could find lying around.
His severely cracked ego could take the foul smelling, sticky, COLD barrage, but once it turned into heavy rocks, he found himself on his knees once more; covering his face.
A sharp word of power rung out over them and every single person stopped what would have probably turned into a murderous mob ripping the elf limb from limb. Ulfric had their attention easily and rode his stallion over to the battered man.
“Thank you all for stopping. I have no right to ask you to end your vengeful barrage, but we have business with the rat. Else he would be all yours…….” Ulfric’s deep voice almost seemed to soothe those present.
Miserable, half naked and covered in filth and bruises; the elf slowly lowered his shaking arms and bore his teeth up at the man. There was barely an inch of him that was not soaked in rotten fluids or animal feces. The crowd dispersing did not make him feel better.
“Do not look at me with blame in your eyes.” Ulfric’s voice rumbled down at him. “You have brought this and more upon yourself…….” He turned the horse about. “Open the gates!”
The high elf was forced to follow along and did so as he was in no mood to be drug along. He felt an agonized twitch in his guts when the wretched Nord and leader announced that they would be marching for Windhelm; home. He could not imagine enduring such a trip, through blistering snow storms and across mountains in his current condition. Especially being drug along behind the trotting horses when he was already exhausted from the previous trip. Surely they sought to drive him to his death.
Luckily-or not- for him, the little party stopped at a fishery just outside of Solitude, where Ulfric commandeered a large fishing net upon the bridge.
“For our own sake, we will grant the reeking elf a much needed bath. Come, little Altmer.” He chided amongst much chuckling.
Ondolemar of course denied and fought the humiliating circumstance with teeth bared and fists out, but it didn’t take too many of the Stormcloak soldiers to toss him into the netting. Writhing and tangling himself more, he found himself tossed over the bridge into the icy flowing waters of the river below.
Screaming in outrage, he writhed about and tried to get above water; only succeeding in filling his lungs with the stinging substance. By the time they pulled him out, he was entirely waterlogged and saturated; coughing and choking and throwing up filthy bay fish water.
“B-bastards, heat-thhens, c-c-ut-throats, traiters-s” He spat and hissed every insult he could possibly come up with as he tried in vain to untangle himself from this mass of sopping wet, heavy netting.
“By the time we reach the mountains he shall be an elf-sicle!” A guard jeered and laughter followed. “Half-drowned is a good look for a mangy rat-“ “Our family cat looked the same when we dumped him in a barrel a mead once! Hahah!” “Least he doesn’t smell anymore!”
At least he had his FURY to keep him warm. When he was at last freed, he vehemently shoved himself away from the circle of guards and, teeth chattering, attempted to grab a sword from a nearby horse.
“Now, hold your temper, elf.” Ulfric’s trotted over on horseback; blocking his path. “Lest you be made to feel the sting of real pain…or lose the privilege of being unbound.” The Nord gave him a most serious look.
Shivering, Ondolemar sneered up at the man and gave several deep huffs. “I will d-destroy you.“ He hissed this threat; lips quivering.
“Be good.” Ulfric snapped with his deep voice. “And I may allow you to ride horseback..rather than walk the whole way.” He turned the beast away and trotted ahead. “Party, follow.”
Glaring viciously, the elf let his imagination go back to work as he found himself roped once more and lead along.
The trip only worsened from then on, as the bitter sting of cold around them became heavy snowfall. The ice underfoot stung at his sensitive soles and the water in his facial scruff froze very quickly. This was not even to mention the previously wet loin cloth that was now burning at his groin with frozen cold. The soldiers bundled in their fur as they kept at their trotting casual pace, but paid no mind to he who was freezing solid and exposed entirely to the elements.
He was now using what magic he had saved up just to warm his body and stave off hypothermia. After a few hours of this unbearable torture of cold and ice, he could not move a step and collapsed to his knees in the snow.
Ralof, the most empathetic of Ulfric’s men, stopped and hopped down from his horse. “He will not make it much longer this way, my lord…” He pulled his own fur off and draped it about Ondolemar’s shoulders.
The high elf bore his teeth. “I do not desire your pity-“
“Thalmor or not, this is no proper way for a man to die.” Ralof reached out.
Ulfric had paced back to them and halted the party a moment. “Ah Ralof…..your heart of gold is ever a strange sight to behold.” He directed the next bit at Ondolemar. “Get dressed and shed off those frozen garments. Ralof’s kindness will be your savior….if he desires it, you may ride with him..”
Ralof nodded to his leader and glanced back expectantly to the high elf, who only grimaced miserably and took his hand. He was in far too much pain, and had absolutely no tolerance whatsoever for it, to let his pride get in the way.
Dressed in several layers of much warmer clothes, he then found himself bundled miserably up behind Ralof on one of the mounts. He was far too relieved and exhausted to try anything where he may have normally knocked the Nord off and stolen the horse. They had also bound his hands once more just in case he even thought about it, so he just sunk forward and passed out.
The trip was a blur of conscious and unconscious moments for quite some time after that. Now that he was warm and not dragging himself along, his body was able to focus on healing and sleep.
They stopped a few places and dismounted here and there for rest and camp, but it wasn’t until they reached the city of Whiterun that he took real notice of their surroundings. He was surprised at even himself for not having the energy to escape on the road. The first day had taken a great deal out of him.
Now the fuzzy haze of things was just starting to clear, and he found himself seated at a wooden table in the Bantered Mare inn. Ralof was pushing a plate full of warm food and a cup of mead at him and he was looking at the Stormcloak as if this were some poison trick. He’d had stale bread and dirty water to sustain him the past week, so this smelt good enough to make his stomach wrench.
“What i-is your motive for this. “ He growled suspiciously at the Nord.
Ralof, with his mouthful of chicken and toast, merely made a little motion and swallowed. “No motive! It was Ulfric’s idea…..said you’d need all the energy you could get.”
Ondolemar grimaced from under the blue hood he was wearing. “That is even worse.”
“I picked it out myself….nothing’s wrong with it…..You have my word.” His good-natured voice was only muffled a moment as he took a swing of his beverage.
The Altmer grimaced over at the Stormcloak, who was sitting with him rather than the other guards who’d taken to flirting with the local women. He swallowed a painful knot in his throat and gave in. It was much more delicious than he could have ever imagined, and despite himself he felt his stickling manners falling to pieces as he ripped through every bit. Warm, succulent chicken with crisp skin, potatoes filled with cheese and bread coated with butter and garlic. Even the Nord mead, which he would usually find repulsive, had an irresistible tang to it.
It was easily the best tasting food he’d ever had and even after he’d ravaged the first plate, he found another placed in front of him. Looking shocked, he glared at Ralof again.
“Why do you do this?” His sharp voice was demanding and suspicious as he irresistibly picked up a fork and stabbed the Horker steak.
Ralof shrugged and leaned back with his mead. “I don’t believe in taking prisoners, y’know. Always found it..kinda unsavory to be one as well. Seems a lot more merciful to just kill somebody on sight than drag them along and make em wish they were dead..Even though I know my lord Ulfric has good reason to condemn you this way, it’s his place……. not mine to do so.”
The Altmer glared at him through chewing. “That doesn’t make any sense,” He alleged. “You are his men. His followers even…yet you do not agree with his ways?”
Ralof put down the mug. “We all have different ideals..doesn’t mean I don’t agree with most of what he stands for.”
Ondolemar thought to interrogate him more, but he was interrupted by the leader himself.
“Do not bond too strongly with him, good Ralof.” Ulfric patted the soldier on the shoulder. “Many an innocent has fallen for the cause and laws he enforced……”
He spoke with the man a moment and Ondolemar glowered and blocked it out as he rapidly finished his meal before Ulfric could end it. Sure enough, the Nord turned to him and made a motion. “You. With me….”
Reluctantly and bitterly, the Altmer pushed himself up and glanced briefly to Ralof before leaving.
Ulfric showed him to the prison cells, where he would be staying while they visited here. He was chained up and forced to spend the night and another entire day and night in a filthy cell with only hay to lie upon. The high elf paced as much as the chains would allow and brooded deeply. The only upside to this was being away from those wretched Nords for long enough to speak with someone else.
His words fell on deaf ears though, as the guards here were also people who had been wronged by the Thalmor. They granted him no reprieve and ‘forgot’ to bring him any simple food or water, so he was glad to have a full belly for once.
When he was retrieved by the Stormcloak party, he was feeling well enough to face the trip ahead and determined this time he would escape the next chance he got.
Ulfric must have predicted this somehow, because he did not allow him out of his bonds and made him walk along beside Ralof’s horse in chains.
The weather was much milder at least and the sun was shining above. He felt energy boiling in his core as his mind worked at possible escape.
Mid-day, he got the chance as their band was set upon by a pack of eight errant wolves.
Ulfric slung out his blade and yelled orders to the soldiers, including one to Ralof to stay put and watch the elf. Poor Ralof was not used to falling back as they all fought, and took his eye off of Ondolemar just long enough.
Reaching out, the high elf grabbed the man by his thigh and sent every volt of electricity he could muster up into his frame before pulling him roughly off. His hands were chained in the front, making this, as well as snatching up the Nord’s blade, possible.
Raising the blade up, he brought it down on the downed Ralof; but stopped midway. The Altmer bore his teeth and stayed his hand. He didn’t have time to think about it; instead pulling himself up onto the horse and using the moment of distraction to turn the beast and send it flying off in the opposite direction down the road.
Ulfric noticed and ripped his blade from a wolf; cursing under his breath and rolling his eyes as he made his way back to his own horse. He gave chase and once within distance, rose out his gloved hand in the fleeing elf’s direction.
Red aura danced about his digits. In unison with this, Ondolemar felt a burning heat rise about his neck and wrists. It then became an agonizing sting of hundreds of volts of electricity rippling through his frame.
“AGGHH!!” He grabbed the collar in agony and twisted back; falling from the galloping beast and into the dirt of the road where he kept writhing desperately. It did not end!
Ulfric caught up with the elf and pulled around him before hopping down from his horse. “A bold move..and a stupid one. Had I not seen you stay your hand over Ralof, I would have destroyed you…..”
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Heretics and Extremists

Chapter 6