Verhaal

Hallo ik heb een verhaal.
Als iemand dit zou willen vertalen zou ik dat super vinden !
Het is van engels naar nederlands.
alvast bedankt.

Chapter Two: The Old Man and the Inn

The journey was shorter than it should have been; I was so invigorated that I hardly slept at all, and only when it was completely necessary-like when I was practically tripping over my feet. My rising anticipation was almost unbearable; when I saw an Imperial Legion Officer who politely saluted me on the road, all I wanted to do was impale his skull with an arrow. But instead I smiled amiably back and walked on, hands clenched on my dagger. In my mind I still imagined the satisfying thunk of the arrow piercing his skull.
When I neared the Inn, I found that there was another one just down the road. I decided that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to go stay in the Ill Omen, so I headed toward the other one, “The Faregyl Inn” it was called, if memory serves. I decided to buy a room for the night- 10 gold out the window. I barely had enough, but I figured that I would be getting some gold soon, providing all went well. I paid the Khagiit, gave her a (totally fake) friendly smile, and headed up into the room.
It was small, but comfortable and homey. I gave a valiant attempt at sleep, but all I did was inspect the inside of my eyelids for a couple of hours. I kept looking anxiously outside to see if it was dark yet. After what seemed days, but was only a couple of hours, I decided that it was time to prepare. My plan was to leave the Inn without being seen, get into the Inn of Ill Omen also without being seen, kill the Rufio silently and without being seen, and leave, guess what, without being seen.
My plan called for a lot of discretion, so I pulled on my dark green shirt and black pants. I chose my soft leather shoes, hoping they would make my steps quieter. I tied a black leather belt around my waist and slipped the dagger that Lachance had given me into its sheath, which I attached to the belt. Next, I slipped my quiver over my shoulders and tightened the leather straps- I didn’t want it to slip off if I had to make a fast exit. Then I slipped my bow into its slot on my quiver. I debated bringing my long sword, but decided that it was too cumbersome to carry along, so it was left it behind. I also slipped some vials of poison that I had concocted last week for hunting deer and wolf. I wasn’t sure what the effects on humans would be, but I was pretty sure they wouldn’t be positive.
I opened the door to my room a crack and looked out into the upstairs hallway. It was deserted, and seemed quiet downstairs. Sliding into the hallway, I closed my door silently behind me and crept down the first flight of stairs. I peered through the opening in the chimney that held the stove and could see that the Inn owner was asleep on a bed roll by the counter. There was no one else in the room, except for a drunken Legion officer lying asleep at a table, face in his mug, snoring loudly.
I crept quietly as I could towards the exit, avoiding a bowl of strawberries that had been knocked over earlier. Opening the door, I winced each time it creaked, praying that no one would wake. When I finally got out I paused, soaking in the midnight air. It was a quiet, cloudless night, and all around me was shrouded in shadow, the trees swaying in the cool breeze, the crickets chirping quietly in the background. I stood still, breathing in the night air, savoring it. The cool night air invigorated me; it always had. I smiled slightly, and moved on.
Making my way quickly but silently up the road, I made sure to keep checking for Legion officers and any other travelers out late. Luckily I found no one- the threat of Daedra was keeping most in their homes in terror. However, when I got closer to the Inn of Ill Omen, I heard the sound of arrows being notched and shot at a target. I headed up over the hill in the forest surrounding the Inn and found, to my dismay, an Imperial Forester shooting arrows at a hay target by the left side of the entrance. He was a little too close to the Inn door for my comfort, but I wasn’t sure if I could kill him quickly enough without his alerting anyone nearby…Guards were tricky that way.
After watching for another moment, I weighed my chances and decided to take him out. I didn’t want anyone to see me enter or exit the inn, and I didn’t think I could sneak past him. He was too close to the door, and a guard was the last possible type of person I wanted to see me near the scene of an about to be committed murder. The adrenaline started to coarse through me again at my decision; I pulled out the dagger in my belt and dipped it into the vial of poison, slowly making my way down the hill, grimacing every time I made a sound in the deep grass. The Imperial Forrester was still absorbed in his archery practice, oblivious to my movements behind him. I pulled closer and closer, speeding up as I hit the dirt path in front of the Inn. I was about 10 feet from him when I my right foot kicked a rock that tumbled right towards the forester. My blood ran cold as the rock hit the back of his boot.
Time seemed to slow even further as he started to turn. All I had was pure instinctual reaction; I held up my dagger and sprinted at him, my each footfall feeling light and nimble. As he turned to face me, dropping his bow and drawing his sword, I slashed my dagger across his chest. I didn’t make too deep a wound, but it was enough to stagger him. He gave a surprised grunt of pain, staggering back slightly, the sword going limp in his had. I think I was so surprised to have made contact that I was momentarily stunned, as I fell back as well. He recovered quicker than I did and lunged forward at me, using my surprise to his advantage. I swung my dagger up in a desperate attempt to block the strike- I knocked his sword aside, but was pushed back a couple of steps from the force of the attack. He found his grip on the sword again, but this time I was ready. I sprung forward, slashing underneath the raised sword, slicing deep into his stomach. He dropped his sword, wrapping his arms around his gut. I watched as his insides literally tumbling out before my eyes.
Falling to his knees, gasping painfully for breath, the Imperial Forrester tried desperately to hold his innards in his stomach with two bloody, trembling hands. I stood over him, chest heaving with each breath I took. And as I stood there, he looked up into my eyes with a look full of pain, and what seemed to be fear; I could sense that he was not ready to die, not ready to face what someday we must all face. His gaze held mine, right up until the moment the light left his eyes, and he collapsed face forward on the ground. It was déjà vu to the woman; I felt the same feeling of disgust in myself, but it was becoming less intense. The feeling of fulfillment, of malicious and sadistic glee, was becoming more prominent.
I gained my senses quickly enough, and realized that I had to hide the body before anyone came out to investigate the noise; the first part of my plan hadn’t been completed as silently as I had hoped.
Grabbing him underneath the shoulders, I tugged his body around to the side of the Inn, where I opened the grate of the well. Panting from the effort, I lifted the corpse over the ledge of well, and shoved. After hearing a satisfying distant splash, I quickly turned and jogged to the front. I replaced my iron bow with his silver, stuck his remaining arrows into my quiver, and chucked his long sword into the forest. As an afterthought, I kicked up some dust to try and cover the blood stains. I was wiping the layer of sweat that had formed on my forehead when the front door of the Inn creaked open.
In a flash, I darted into the shadows along the side of the building, flattening myself against the wall, my heart pounding a fast, steady beat. A Nord walked out, whistling tunelessly to himself. He stopped when he had gone about ten feet from the entrance, and turned about, as though searching.
“Patric? Where the hell didya go?” he said, his voice sounding slightly amused. I realized that he must be the barman due to the dirty rag in his back pocket and his beer stained shirt. The only other reason his shirt would be covered in alcohol would have been if he was drunk, but he certainly wasn’t.
“Patric! You’ve been slacking off again, haven’t you, you dirty little cheat! Ordered to guard the inn, but always running off, you sweet talking brown noser!” the rest of what he said dissolved into incoherent mumbling and grumbling.
He trudged a little further down the walk, still mumbling, and I decided I would take my chances and try to sneak inside while he was out. Keeping my back against the wall, I slid toward the door, opening it quickly but as quietly as I could manage. I was blessed with the fact that it was empty, probably due to the lateness of the hour. Or this could be a normal occurrence- who in their right mind would ever want to stay at an inn with a name like the ‘Inn of Ill Omen’?
That’s probably why Rufio is staying here, I thought to myself. He figures no one will ever come here, that it will be safe. I decided that Rufio wasn’t a stupid man.
I stepped further into the Inn and looked around the small bar and dining room, wondering where the old man would be. After a brief moment, however, my pondering was cut off abruptly when the front door started to open behind me. I leapt to the left, praying the barman hadn’t seen me. As he didn’t look in my direction or make a sound, I was safe- for now. The shadows were not enough to conceal me for long.
Beneath my foot I felt an uprising in the wood; I looked down and saw a hatch. There wasn’t anything else I could do, so I lifted up the trap door and dropped in before I could think of all things that could go wrong, bending my knees, preparing for the impact. My feet hit a dusty stone floor, and I tumbled to the side to lessen my impact. I found myself in a hallway, with two doors on my left side. Deciding to investigate, I pulled out my dagger and tread silently down the hall. I tried the first door, but found it was locked. Moving on to the next door, I turned the handle slowly and opened it a crack. The room was bare and dark, and on the bed in the far corner was a sleeping man. He seemed almost frail, his hair white.
This could possibly be Rufio; Lachance had said he was old. However, I wasn’t quite certain as to how I could be sure, so I decided I could ask him. Looking back, my skills as an assassin are almost laughable. Screw almost laughable, they were downright pathetic, perfectly worthy of scorn and ridicule. But I got better- I swear.
Anyways, I walked over to the bed, sheathing my dagger to look less threatening, and poked the sleeping man in the shoulder. He started, tumbling out of bed and scrambling to his feet.
“Who- who are you? What do you want?”
“Are you Rufio?” I asked, getting straight to the point.
He didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes gave me my answer.
“What do you want?” he said, his voice wavering. “I ain’t done nothing!”
I wanted to sound threatening I suppose, and in those days my innocence and naivety had led me to believe that most people would only wish evil individuals dead, so I supposed he must have done something.
“Oh, but you have, Rufio,” I said, my voice low. The fear in his eyes made my heart beat hard with anticipation, a thrill rising in the back of my throat.
“It wasn’t my fault! I told her to stay still, but she didn’t listen…she didn’t listen! I didn’t have a choice!” he sputtered, his voice high and shrill.
At these words, my eyes must have shown my intentions, as he started to run toward the door. I drew my dagger out again and bounded after him, almost cat-like, stalking my prey, playing with him. I could have killed him then, but I wanted to savor in the kill, to take my time. If he headed for the trapdoor I could get to him before he reached the top, so I wasn’t worried.
However, luckily for me, he scrambled into the locked room, casting a spell to open it before him. He ran the wall and crouched down, his hands over his head protectively, cowering.
“Please don’t hurt me!”
I walked into the room leisurely, letting each footstep echo around the room. Stopping behind him, I took my bow off my back and notched an arrow. My movements were all unhurried and deliberate, as I was relishing in each movement, taunting him with the excruciating slowness. I pulled the arrow slowly back, making sure he could hear and understand exactly what I was doing. I walked around to face him. His head was bent, looking at my feet, his body shaking with silent sobs. Pointing my arrow straight into the center of his head, I waited for him to look up. After a moment more of shaking sobs, he finally raised his head, red rimmed eyes hopeful. I smiled.
“Goodbye, Rufio.” And I let go of the arrow.

Ik ben ermee begonnen, maar wat voor namen gebruik je, wil je dat ik die vertaal?
I've started translating, but there are some unusual names. What are they from, and do you want me to translate them?

Dit heb ik tot nu toe:
This is what I have so far:

Hoofdstuk Twee: De Oude Man en de Herberg

De reis was korter dan dat hij zou moeten zijn; ik was zo opgewonden dat ik nauwelijks kon slapen, en dan alleen wanneer het echt moest – als ik ongeveer over mijn voeten struikelde. Mijn verwachtingen werden zo hoog dat het nauwelijks meer te verdragen was; toen ik een agent van het Keizerlijke Legioen tegenkwam die mij vriendelijk groette, wilde ik het liefst zijn schedel splijten met een pijl. In plaats daarvan lachte ik hartelijk terug en liep door, met mijn handen mijn dolk vasthoudend. In gedachten hoorde ik het bevredigende geluid van een pijl die een schedel doorklieft.
Toen ik bij de herberg aankwam zag ik dat er iets verderop nog een was. Ik besloot dat het waarschijnlijk geen goed idee was om in het Slechte Voorteken te verblijven, dus liep ik door naar de andere herberg, die “Herberg De Faregyl” heette, als ik het me goed herinner. Ik besloot een kamer te nemen voor een nacht – weer 10 goudstukken kwijt. Ik had nauwelijks genoeg, maar ik bedacht dat ik waarschijnlijk snel goud zou krijgen als alles goed zou lopen. Ik betaalde de Khagiit, lachte vriendelijk (en helemaal nep) naar haar en ging naar boven, naar mijn kamer.
Hij was klein, maar comfortabel en knus. Ik probeerde dapper om te gaan slapen, maar ik bekeek slechts de binnenkanten van mijn oogleden voor een paar uur. Ik bleef ongerust blikken naar buiten werpen om te zien of het al donker was. Dagen later, zo leek het, maar eigenlijk was het maar enkele uren later, besloot ik dat het tijd was om me voor te bereiden. Ik zou de herberg verlaten zonder dat iemand mij zag, het Slechte Voorteken binnensluipen, ook zonder dat iemand mij zag, Rufio vermoorden, stil en zonder dat iemand mij zag, en weer weggaan, je raad het nooit, zonder dat iemand mij zag.
Dat was mijn plan en het vroeg om een hoop voorzichtigheid, dus ik pakte mijn donkergroene shirt en zwarte broek. I koos voor mijn zachte, leren schoenen omdat ik hoopte dat die mijn voetstappen stiller zouden maken. Ik knoopte een zwarte leren riem om mijn middel en deed de dolk, die Lachance mij gegeven had, in de schede, die ik aan de riem vastmaakte. Vervolgens hing ik de pijlkoker over mijn schouders en maakte ik de leren bandjes vast – ik wilde niet dat hij zou vallen als ik snel weg zou moeten rennen. Daarna liet ik mijn boog in de gleuf in mijn pijlkoker glijden. Ik dacht erover mijn zwaard mee te nemen, maar ik besloot dat die te onhandig was, dus liet ik hem achter. Ik nam ook wat flesjes vergif mee dat ik de week ervoor had gebrouwen om op herten en wolven te jagen. Ik wist niet precies welk effect het op mensen zou hebben, maar ik was er redelijk zeker van dat het niet positief zou zijn.
Ik opende de deur van mijn kamer op een kiertje en keek de gang in. Die was verlaten, en ook beneden leek het stil te zijn. Ik glipte naar buiten, deed de deur geluidloos achter me dicht en daalde voorzichtig de eerste trap af. Ik gluurde door de opening in de schoorsteen die eindigde in de haard en zag dat de herbergier in zijn bed bij de toonbank lag te slapen. Er was verder niemand in de kamer behalve een dronken agent die met zijn gezicht in zijn mok luid snurkend lag te slapen.
Ik sloop zo stil mogelijk naar de uitgang, een schaal aardbeien ontwijkend die eerder was omgegooid. Ik deed de deur open en kromp elke keer dat hij piepte ineen, hopend dat niemand erdoor wakker zou worden. Toen ik eindelijk buiten was stond ik even stil, doordrenkt in de nachtelijke lucht. Het was een stille, wolkenloze nacht en alles om me heen was bedekt met schaduwen, de bomen werden door de koele wind bewogen, op de achtergrond tjirpten de krekels zachtjes. Ik stond stil, ademde genietend de nachtelijke lucht in. De koele lucht gaf me kracht; dat had het altijd gedaan. Ik glimlachte een beetje en ging verder.

Hey, ik vind het iets te dramatisch worden, dus tot hier.
Veel succes met de rest!

Terwijl ik snel maar stil de weg afliep, bleef ik kijken of er agenten of andere reiziger laat op straat waren. Gelukkig vond ik er geen – de dreiging van Daedra hield de meesten in hun huizen van angst. Alleen, toen ik dichter bij het Slechte Voorteken kwam, hoorde ik het geluid van pijlen die afgeschoten werden naar een doel. Ik ging over de heuvel in het bos rondom de herberg en zag, tot mijn ontsteltenis, een Keizerlijke Boswachter die pijlen richtte op een doel van hooi, iets links van de ingang. Hij was een beetje te dicht bij de deur, maar ik wist niet zeker of ik hem snel genoeg kon vermoorden zodat hij niemand kon waarschuwen... Bewakers waren lastig in dat opzicht.
Nadat ik nog een moment had gekeken, woog ik mijn kansen af en besloot ik hem om te brengen. Ik wilde niet dat iemand mij de herberg in of uit zag gaan, en ik dacht niet dat ik langs hem kon glippen. Hij was te dicht bij de deur, en een bewaker was de laatste soort persoon die ik wilde dat me zag op de plek waar weldra een moord zal worden gepleegd. De adrenaline begon weer door mijn aderen te stromen door de beslissing; ik trok de dolk van mijn riem en dompelde het in het flesje gif, terwijl ik langzaam de heuvel afdaalde, met een grimas op mijn gezicht wanneer ik een geluid maakte in het hoge gras. De Keizerlijke Boswachter was nog steeds bezig met zijn schotoefening, zich niet bewust van mijn bewegingen achter hem. Ik kwam dichter en dichter bij hem, versnellend terwijl ik het zandpad voor de herberg op kwam. Ik was ongeveer 3 meter van hem verwijderd toen ik met mijn rechtervoet tegen een steen aan trapte die richting de boswachter vloog. Mijn bloed stolde toen de steen tegen de achterkant van zijn laars kwam.
De tijd leek langzamer te gaan toen hij zich begon om te draaien. Mijn reacties waren alleen nog puur instinct; ik hield mijn dolk voor me uit en sprintte naar hem toe, elke voetstap voelde licht en alert. Terwijl hij zijn gezicht naar me toe draaide, zijn boog liet zakken en zijn zwaard pakte, sneed ik met mijn dolk door zijn borst. Ik had geen erg diepe wond gemaakt, maar hij was diep genoeg om hem te ontstellen. Hij gaf een verbaasde grom van pijn, wankelde iets naar achter, zijn zwaard losjes in zijn hand. Ik denk dat ik zo verbaasd was dat ik hem geraakt had, dat ik even overweldigd was, want ik viel ook naar achter. Hij herstelde zich sneller dan ik en viel naar me uit, profijt makend van mijn verbazing. Ik slingerde mijn dolk naar voren in een hopeloze poging de aanval af te weren – ik sloeg zijn zwaard opzij, maar werd een paar stappen naar achter gedwongen door de kracht van de aanval. Hij hervond de vat op zijn zwaard, maar nu was ik er klaar voor. Ik sprong naar voren, ging onder het opgeheven zwaard door en maakte een diepe snee in zijn maag. Hij liet zijn zwaard vallen, zijn handen om zijn buik klemmend. Ik keek toe terwijl voor mijn ogen zijn ingewanden letterlijk naar buiten kwamen.