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【书籍搬运】Beggar Prince 乞丐王子

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原文地址:http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Skyrim:Beggar_Prince

翻译:小嚣鬼

校对:pcsjx

我们总是看不起游荡在帝国的乞丐。这些贫穷的可怜人都是在大陆上迷失了的灵魂。每个城市都有乞丐生活着,他们中的大部分都穷困潦倒,以致衣衫褴褛,他们吃的都是些我们扔掉的残羹剩饭。而我们只须投下一枚硬币就大可不必为他们的处境劳神担心。

请想象一下当我听到这个乞丐王子的故事时有多么惊讶吧!我无法想象一个乞丐中的王子到底会是什么样子。现在请让我讲述这个故事。故事发生在第一纪元,那时候众神像人类与迪德拉一样自由行走于世。当时他们还没有被全部限制在湮灭地狱之中。

那时曾经有一个名叫维多的男人,又或者可能是个女人。这个故事一直竭力避免谈及维多的性别。我只知道维多是瓦伦林地之王的第十三个孩子。像这般身份,维多丝毫没有继承王位的资格,甚至连继承一些的财产也不能。

于是维多离开宫廷去寻找自己的财富与荣耀。不知多少天里维多一直行走在无穷无尽的林间小径和荒野乡间,直到维多遇到三个男人正围着一名乞丐。这个乞丐从头到脚衣衫褴褛,全身没有一处能看清楚。现在那几个男人正打算杀死这名乞丐。

维多随即拔剑出鞘,断喝一声向那几个人冲去。那几人不过只是普通平民而已,只有耙子和镰刀当武器。一见到手执明晃晃的长剑的批甲武士,他们连忙逃之夭夭。

“非常感谢你救了我。”乞丐说道,在一团破布条里面喘着粗气,恶臭让维多几乎无法忍受了。

“可怜虫,你叫什么名字?” 维多问道。

“我叫娜米拉。”

与一般的平民不同,维多接受过良好的教育。对于他们而言这个名字毫无意义,而对于维多,这是一次机会。

“你是迪德拉魔君!” 维多惊叫起来,接着说道:“为什么您会允许那些人骚扰您呢?您本可以只消轻轻吹一口气就杀死他们的。”

“就好像我请你们认出我来似的,”娜米拉嗔说:“我时常受那些平民辱骂。如果有人能够凭我的特征而不是名字把我认出来,我还会高兴些。”

维多知道娜米拉是代表所有粗劣与招人厌恶的事物的迪德拉魔君。像麻风和坏疽等一类的疾病都是她掌控的领域。在这里其他人看到的只有危险,而维多却看到了机会。

“啊!伟大的娜米拉!请让我成为您的学徒吧。我只求您能赋予我力量,让我能够自求财富,博得流传百世之名。”

“不行。我在这个世界上独来独往,根本没必要收一名学徒。”

娜米拉沿着小径蹒跚着走开了。但维多也非易与之人。他一下跳到娜米拉的身后,纠缠着要成为她的学徒。维多没日没夜地喋喋不休了三十三天。娜米拉一语不发,但维多的声音却未曾止歇。最后在第三十三天,维多终于因为嗓子沙哑而无法说话了。

娜米拉回头看了一眼这个突然安静下来的人。在一片泥泞上,维多跪倒在她的脚下,双手张开恳求着。

“看来你作为我的学徒终于可以出师了,”娜米拉庄重地对维多说:“我将赋予你所要求的。”

维多大喜过望。

“我赋予你疾病之力。你将能选择身受任何一种疾病折磨,你可以随意改变,只要其症状是肉眼可见的。但是你必须一直承受其中至少一种。”

“我赋予你怜悯之力。你将能博得所有看到你的人的同情。”

“最后,我赋予你漠视之力。你将能令其他人忽视你的存在。”

维多听了后吓呆了。这些根本不是帮助他获取财富的恩惠,而是诅咒。它们每个都有其独到力量,但结合起来就成了无法想象的噩梦。

“我要怎么用这些糟糕的天赋去创造财富和博取名声?”

“就像你在我的脚下乞求了三十三个日夜那样,现在你将为了你的财富向城里的人乞讨,你的名字将成为泰姆瑞尔乞丐间流传的传奇。乞丐王子维多的故事将会世世代代地传颂下去。”

正如娜米拉所预言的那样,维多成为了一个让人无法抗拒的乞丐。看到这么一个可怜人,没有人不拼命挤上前去向他投下硬币。然而,维多也发现漠视之力为他窥探地区的秘密提供了极大的便利。人们常常会在维多能够听见的地方不知不觉地把重要的事情说出来。维多逐渐掌握了城市里每一位居民的来龙去脉。

时至今日,据说如果你真的想了解某事的话,就去问乞丐吧。他们的耳目遍布大大小小的城市,他们对市民们日常生活的秘密都了如指掌。

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Beggar Prince
The story of Wheedle and his gifts from the Daedric Lord Namira


We look down upon the beggars of the Empire. These lost souls are the poor and wretched of the land. Every city has its beggars. Most are so poor they have only the clothes on their backs. They eat the scraps the rest of us throw out. We toss them a coin so that we don't have to think too long about their plight.
Imagine my surprise when I heard the tale of the Beggar Prince. I could not imagine what a Prince of Beggars would be. Here is the tale I heard. It takes place in the first age, when godswalked like men and daedra stalking [sic] the wilderness with impunity. It is a time before they were all confined to Oblivion.
 
There once was a man named Wheedle. Or maybe it was a woman. The story goes to great lengths to avoid declaring Wheedle's gender. Wheedle was the 13th child of a king in Valenwood. As such Wheedle was in no position to take the throne or even inherit much property or wealth.
Wheedle had left the palace to find independent fortune and glory. After many days of endless forest roads and tiny villages, Wheedle came upon three men surrounding a beggar. The beggar was swaddled in rags from head to toe. No portion of the vagabond's body was visible. The men were intent on slaying the beggar.
With a cry of rage and indignation, Wheedle charged the men with sword drawn. Being simple townsfolk, armed only with pitchforks and scythes, they immediately fled from the armored figure with the shining sword.
"Many thanks for saving me," wheezed the beggar from beneath the heap of foul rags. Wheedle could barely stand the stench.
"What is your name, wretch?" Wheedle asked.
"I am Namira."
Unlike the townsfolk, Wheedle was well learned. That name meant nothing to them, but to Wheedle it was an opportunity.
"You are the Daedric lord!" Wheedle exclaimed. "Why did you allow those men to harass you? You could have slain them all with a whisper."
"I am please you recognized me," Namira rasped. "I am frequently reviled by townsfolk. It pleases me to be recognized for my attribute, if not for my name."
Wheedle knew that Namira was the Daedric lord of all thing gross and repulsive. Diseases such asleprosy and gangrene were her domain. Where others might have seen danger, Wheedle saw opportunity.
"Oh, great Namira, let me apprentice myself to you. I ask only that you grant me powers to make my fortune and forge a name for myself that will live through the ages."
"Nay. I make my way alone in the world. I have no need for an apprentice."
Namira shambled off down the road. Wheedle would not be put off. With a bound, Wheedle was at Namira's heel, pressing the case for an apprenticeship. For 33 days and nights, Wheedle kept up the debate. Namira said nothing, but Wheedle's voice was ceaseless. Finally, on the 33rd day, Wheedle was too hoarse to talk.
Namira looked back on the suddenly silent figure. Wheedle knelt in the mud at her feet, open hands raised in supplication.
"It would seem you have completed your apprenticeship to me after all," Namira declared. "I shall grant your request."
Wheedle was overjoyed.
"I grant you the power of disease. You may choose to be afflicted with any disease you choose, changing them at will, so long as it has visible symptoms. However, you must always bear at least one.
"I grant you the power of pity. You may evoke pity in anyone that sees you.
"Finally, I grant you the power of disregard. You may cause others to disregard your presence."
Wheedle was aghast. These were not boons from which a fortune could be made. They were curses, each awful in its own right, but together they were unthinkable.
"How am I to make my fortune and forge a name for myself with these terrible gifts?"
"As you begged at my feet for 33 days and 33 nights, so shall you now beg for your fortune in the cities of men. Your name will become legendary among the beggars of Tamriel. The story of Wheedle, the Prince of Beggars, shall be handed down throughout the generations.
It was as Namira predicted. Wheedle was an irresistible beggar. None could see the wretch without desperately wanting to toss a coin at the huddled form. However, Wheedle also discovered that the power of disregard gave great access to the secrets of the realms. People unknowingly said important things where Wheedle could hear them. Wheedle grew to know the comings and goings of every citizen in the city.
To this day, it is said that if you really want to know something, go ask the beggars. They have eyes and ears throughout the cities. They know all the little secrets of the daily lives of its citizens.

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