5

Orwen had lived for as long as he could remember. Of course, everyone could say the same thing. But Orwen truly remembered being alive for far longer than those around him. He had seen friends grow old and die. He had experienced pain and suffering along with bouts of joy and excitement ten times more so than anyone he had known. There had been times in his life, after the natural aging process would take its toil on whoever he was around at the time, that Orwen would disappear because they would start noticing that time was not affecting him. 

At those moments, Orwen would pack up and move on to the next tribe. Start a new life. Make new friends. Learn a new trade. 

By his account, Orwen had probably lived through five life cycles. And the hardship and monotony of what some would call the gift of immortality was wearing on him. He had loved and lost. He had buried the dead and walked away from dear friendships. And for Orwen, he had done more than his fair share. 

He had questioned and tried to reason the whys of his exsistence. He had not met anyone else in all his dealings that was quiet like him. He had broached the subject with different healers, magicians, holy men and wisen women without explicitly telling them of his natural stubborness to not age or die. No one's words, prayers or spells would bring him solace. In fact, he ususlly had more questions when conversations were done.

The swirl of pain and uncertainty of beginning yet another new life had heightened to the point that Orwen was willing to tempt fate. He had been living near the Grassland borders with quiet a large tribe. At the time, he was a smithy in training. He had learned the art of bending metal and of tanning hides from an honorable nobleman, Yuri. Orwen had started off sleeping in the silos of the nobleman's quarters. But as time past and Yuri married and had children, Orwen became part of the growing family. Yuri treated Orwen as a son. He had his own room in the main quarters. He had responsibility and with those responsibilities came birthrights. Yuri legally made it known that Orwen was to receive equal share once the nobleman passed away.

And that day did come. Yuri, surrounded by sons and daughters, their husbands and wives, his grandchildren and great grandchildren-- Yuri died. The pain yet again from deep loss was too much for Orwen.  

As fast as his little feet could take him, Orwen ran to the gaming pits where they kept the most vicious of creatures for entertainment purposes. He had removed one of the metal coverings and looked down below. At the bottom of the pit laid the deathly poisonous lubra, a yellow snake like being who was as thick and long as it was quick to strike.

 Orwen closed his eyes. He told himself, with one step over the edge there would be no more pain, no more life, no more loss. 

He fell into the pit and the lubra raised its head. Slowly it untabgled it's fat coiled body and surrounded Orwen. "Make it quick," he prayed.

Once the lubra had encircled Orwen at tleast three times with it's long scaly body, it stopped. As still as a statue, the lubra eyed Orwen until Orwen, in his distress and utter panic, bluttered out, "Kill me now you stupid beast!"

I can not kill what destiny has set apart, the words flooded Orwens mind with an eerie echo. 

"Are you talking to me?" Orwen was transfixed on the lubra's eye slits. It contracted and retracted.

Not much longer, my friend, and you will know. With a slight tilt of the head, the lubra commenced to slither back to its original resting place away from Orwen.

"That's all? That's all!" Orwen kicked the dust wanting to get a reaction from the creature.

Some of us have been waiting far longer than you, my friend. But the time is coming. The lubra intertwined its body in a tight coil and rested its head on the ground. Patience.

"Orwen!" Yelled a female voice from overhead. "He's down here. In the pit!" She called to whoever else was around. 

Orwen could hear the gathering commotion. Quickly, he heard different people talkign about being quiet as not to wake the lubra. Someone suggested grabbing the rope from the nearby cart. Someone else assured Orwen that they were going to rescue him.

All the while, Orwen purposed in his heart to never tempt fate again. He had a gift. The gift has a reason. The reason would soon reveal itself. In it of itself, that sufficed. 

The rope was thrown over the edge and Orwen grabbed a hold. "I'm ready," he yelled.