Story english

Hi, i have a story and i would like to have it in dutch to send it to a friend.

Can anyone help me?

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.