Okay, I already posted this on fanfiction.net, but I've revised it a little now. Soooo... here it is. It starts out a little dark and gets lighter as it goes.


Chapter 1: Fulfilling a Promise

The Nord made his way through the forest toward the traveling entertainers’ carts. There were all sorts of low lives of every race in this little gathering. Some of the scum wanted to see the bear baiting or to bet on the pit fights. Others wanted to buy slaves. Others still came to have sex with or buy some of the kidnapped girls the travelers had with them.

Sure, slavery was illegal, but it didn’t matter as long as you didn’t get caught. After Emperor Martin’s sacrifice, everyone’s attention was focused on cleaning their world up again from the Oblivion scum and rebuilding it again. Then, when things began to settle down, the talk of the new emperor exploded into several skirmishes, until most citizens didn’t care who ruled, as long as the deaths stopped. Now that the new High Chancellor took over rule, things were peaceful again for the moment. Alas, though, with all the strife that had taken place, the High Chancellor didn’t have enough time or man power to take care of every problem across the land, which meant that slavers began to rise up here and there in various parts of the world.


The Nord shivered a little and pulled the cloak further over his head so that no one could see him as he rode up to the camp. He had promised the dying Khajiit that he’d find her daughter, but he never expected to find her in a place like this. Still, though, he didn’t have as hard a time finding her as he had expected. It seemed that the sight of the four-eared half breed Khajiit made a lot of stir in every town she was brought to.

As soon as he entered the camp, he was surrounded by a group of dangerous looking men. “I’m looking for a Khajiit half-breed. Four ears,” he informed them.

“We have nothing like that here,” one of the men told him, not liking the looks of the Nord.

“Ahhh, so you’re the one asking around, are you?” another asked.

“What do you want, stranger?”

“I want to buy her,” the Nord answered.

“She’s not for sale!”

“She will be,” the Nord assured, slipping off his horse next to them. The vagabonds backed away a little, as the Nord towered over most of them. “Take me to her,” he demanded. No one moved.

The Nord slipped off his hood, and everyone backed away even more, horrified. There was no real face on the Nord; instead, there were two black eyes and two ears in a mass of scarred and torn flesh. He looked inhuman enough to be one of the Oblivion spawns he had hunted many years ago.

“Now,” the Nord growled. The group instantly spilt away from him and one vagabond, too scared to disobey, made his way through camp – nearly running to get away from the Nord – to where the Four-eared Khajiit was locked.

There was a small group of laughing, jeering people in front of the cage. They didn’t even notice as the Nord walked behind them.

Chapter 2: The Feral Khajiit

The Four-eared Khajiit was a small thing, with two bright yellow eyes with pupils slit into slivers in a very feline fashion. Her lips were small and delicate looking, but she had sharp teeth and huge canines inside.

She was so thin that nearly every bone in her body could be seen.

Even with these oddities, she still would have looked like a regular human were it not for the soft yellow-orange ears that rested atop her head, just above her human ears. There was a big chunk of missing flesh in one of these ears, which told of years of abuse. Her little nose, though human, was a soft pink like that of a cat’s, and she had whiskers on each side of her face, right next to her nose, and a long stripped tail.

The Nord wasn’t sure what was supposed to be going on – was the ‘show’ just the sight of the strange, humanoid four-eared creature? If it was, how could they laugh at such a sad sight and not pity it as it sat there in the little bit of hay and grass in its cage?

He did not have long to contemplate this, for the Four-eared Khajiit’s owner, a strange looking half breed himself – a Dunmer-Orc mix – brought another cage into the Khajiit’s. There was a large rat inside the smaller cage, snarling and scratching and trying to get out. The Four-eared Khajiit, who all this time refused to look up at the ridiculing crowd, suddenly bolted upright, spinning around toward the cage. This got the crowd excited. The Dunmer-Orc opened the cage.

The rat, seeing the Four-eared Khajiit, charged for her. The Four-eared Khajiit, with feline-like reflexes, charged toward the rat and pounced on it. It was hard to know exactly what was happening, as both the rat and the little Four-eared Khajiit tumbled and rolled, hissed and growled, biting and scratching, until, at the very end, the Four-eared Khajiit lay on top of the rat, it’s back broken, tearing at its neck.

The audience ooohhh’ed and aahhhhh’ed at the sight of all the blood and the sounds of the battle cries, but when the fight was over, and the Four-eared Khajiit tore at and ate its prey, a general hiss of disgust rose up from the crowd. More jeers and some small rocks met her this time. She ignored them for the most part, until a stone was thrown against her back; she turned around, mouth full of raw flesh, and hissed at the crowd.

The crowd laughed and jeered and soon, after leaving some coins, left. All did, that is, but the Nord. He watched as the Dunmer-Orc went back into the half breed’s cage, and cursing and muttering of what a “vile animal” she was, threw her back to the ground as he took up the rat’s carcass.

She frantically tackled him with one hand as she pulled the rat from his grasp with the other. Her master took a whip from the side of his belt and let it fall hard against her shoulder where the rat had already caused a wound. She cried out in agony and fell back just as the tip of the whip struck again, grazing her already cut feline ear.

The Dunmer-Orc grabbed her by her long reddish-blonde hair and thrust some coins under her nose. “I told you to entertain them. You’re an animal: you’re supposed to show that! But you just sat there!” He let go of her hair long enough to smack her head, and then grabbed it again with renewed strength. “They like to see you angry. You hiss at them. You growl at them. You climb your little bars for them. Anything to make them happy. If you want to eat, you entertain. The more you entertain, the more gold I get. The more gold I get, the more you eat.”

“Then take this, and let her eat,” the Nord interrupted, offering some coins to the elfish-orc man.

Both master and slave jumped, and turned their eyes onto him. The half breed Khajiit’s was a mix of fright and wonder, while the Dunmer-Orc’s was one of agitation.

“You there,” the Dunmer-Orc demanded of him, “what are you doing here? What cage have you escaped from?”

The Nord glared at him, but answered, “I want your Four-eared Khajiit.”

“Well you can’t have her!”

The Nord tossed a bag through the bars at his feet – he picked it up and opened it, exclaiming when he saw all that was inside: pearls of the finest quality, gold, silver and all sorts of gems. Why, this would be a king’s ransom!

Laughing and muttering incomprehensibly, the Four-eared Khajiit’s master lost all control of his senses for a few moments, but, then, realizing that the Nord might change his mind if he was not given the half breed right away, he declared, “Deals are final! No changing your mind – now get in here and take this monster. She’s yours.”

The commotion he caused made a crowd gather round, and silently gawking and muttering about the state of the Nord’s face and why he’d want the half breed, everyone watched as the Nord made his way toward the back of the cage that the Dunmer-Orc had opened for him.

The Four-eared Khajiit looked up at her master, a mix of horror and fear spread across her face. She knew what to expect from him, but this new man – this creature with no face – what did he want from her?

She put her hand on her master’s leg, as if asking him what was going to happen to her and begging him not to give her to the Nord.

But the Dunmer-Orc sneered at her. Looking down into the Four-eared Khajiit’s big, frightened eyes, he whispered into her ear, “Well, why do you think he wants you? He’s a monster, just like you.”

The Four-eared Khajiit looked back at the Nord, cringing slightly at his monstrous face and huge frame. It was hard to take one’s eyes off such a horrific, scared sight, especially when two black, piercing eyes stared at her from under all the mutilated flesh, but the Four-eared Khajiit still managed to observe the rest of the Nord.

He was long and thick, resembling a Minotaur in width and brawn. His hand as he reached for the cage door looked as big as her head.

He was not in any attire she had seen before. Rather, with thick furs draped across his shoulder as a cloak, thinner furs under that for his clothing, and thick fur wrapped around his leather boots, he looked more of an animal than the animals that adorned him must have.

She looked up at her master once more, never saying a word, but silently pleading with him with her eyes.

He sneered at her. “Maybe he wants you for another one of his cloaks,” the Dunmer-Orc snickered. “But he probably just wants you for his mother of mine. What type of monster like that could get anything aside from another monster? If you live, he’ll probably take your freak children and sell them just like your father did with you.”

The Nord, not quite sure what they were saying, but sensing that something was wrong, slowly advanced toward the two.

The Four-eared Khajiit tensed and hissed at him. The Nord, not sure if this feral-looking creature meant to attack, stopped for a second.

Seeing him stop, the Dunmer-Orc reminded him, “A deals a deal. Here’s your mother of mine.” He picked the Four-eared Khajiit up by her hair and tossed her toward the Nord.

The Four-eared Khajiit, though, being an agile creature, leapt into the air the second her feet and fingertips touched the surface, and landed on the Dunmer-Orc. There was but a seconds protest from the bigger creature when an ear-splitting crack was heard. Before anyone could react, the Four-eared Khajiit was over her slave master’s neck and tore it out.

awesome. I think i'm going to like this story.

Whew! I was not expecting that at all! ARGH! MORE!

Hehehehe. Thanks for the comments guys! Glad to see that people are interested so far. Oh, the slave master didn't really call her "mother of mine" - that was a censored word.



Chapter 3: Master and Slave

The slave master one time sold her to an old Orc whose name he found on a list of wanted men. Apparently the law began looking for the Orc after he killed his wife, so he went in hiding, somehow managing to get eleven other women, most of whom he bought from slavers.

The slave master gave her the choice of either killing the Orc or letting him “turn you into his wife and then kill you”. She learned how to break an Orc’s back and to tear out its throat. It wasn’t that different than killing a rat.

Her slave master then got the reward for bringing the Orc to justice, and she came back to him, though he always threatened that one day he would sell her to another just like the Orc, only he’d leave her for good this next time.

This was the next time. If he intended to let her be tortured and killed, she would kill him first so that he could not gloat over her fate.

She looked up at the Nord, bloodlust clearly written across her eyes.

The Nord was horrified. He came there to rescue a dear friend’s stolen child, but what he found was a wild, savage animal locked in a cage. He had imagined someone just like Jo Dar – kindly and nice, always with a big smile on her face, even when she was terminally ill; and a warm, loving, scolding remark whenever he was being unreasonable – but he never fathomed that she would be the skeletal creature in front of him, covered in her own, a rat’s and her slave master’s blood, hissing savagely, and surrounded by the corpses of the creatures she just killed.

The Four-eared Khajiit, hissing and growling lowly, was tense, as if she were about to pounce on him, too, to break his back and tear out his throat. The Nord slowly reached for the sword at his belt. Her eyes followed his hand as it reached lower toward the blade, but somehow also managed to stare directly into his eyes, making him feel as if she could read his every thought.

His hands grasped the hilt of his sword. She tensed even more, about to spring on him at any second.

Neither got to strike first, though, as the crowd that had gathered around them, at first too horrified to say or do anything when she had killed the Dunmer-Orc, now grew into a fever of rage and fear.

“Kill the monster!” they cried out to him.

Both the Nord and the Four-eared Khajiit jumped, so intense in their pre-battle that they had completely forgotten that anyone else was around.

“Kill it!” they cried.

The half-breed Khajiit looked through her bars, suddenly realizing that she was completely surrounded and outnumbered. Panic struck her face as she glanced down at the corpse beside her and then up again at the crowd around her. Her gaze then fell upon the Nord, the closest and most immediate danger.

“No,” the Nord told them after a second’s hesitation. For some reason, scared though he was of her, afraid that she’d leap upon him the second he turned his back to her, he could not raise his sword against her.

Perhaps it was because he knew and loved her mother, the very truest of friends. Perhaps it was because he had promised her – promised her – a Nord’s promise – something that he held dear as if it were the gods’ own words – that he would let no harm come to her daughter. Or perhaps it was because she looked at him in such a helpless, defenseless manner that it would have been against his principles to kill a creature such as this: beaten, wounded, and trapped in a corner, awaiting death. He might have looked and even sometimes acted like a barbarian to others, but he hated to see the weak and defenseless hurt.

“No,” he repeated a second time, this time a little more sure of himself. “I’ve come to save her – I cannot harm her.”

“Get out of our way!” they cried. “We’re going to kill her!”

The group of cutthroats and slavers were already armed, so they drew their weapons – whatever they each had – and began toward the cage’s entrance.

Afraid to turn his back on her, but afraid to let them near her, the Nord closed the cage’s door, making the lock spring into place and threw the keys into the cage for the Four-eared Khajiit, who scooped them up.


The Four-eared Khajiit stood in awe as the barbarian stood in front of the cage’s door, guarding it. There must have been a good twenty or so people ready to challenge him, and then another ten or so around the cage.

“Don’t go near her. She’s not to blame. I’ll pay for the damages that your friend’s death must’ve cost you, but the Four-eared Khajiit goes with me.”

“She’s a monster! She killed a man! She’ll kill more.”

“Get out of our way! We’ll have her head.”

“We’ll have yours, too, if you don’t move.”

“Fine then, get ‘em both!”

Okay, so I'm not the best at fight scenes... This is the best I can do.




Chapter 4: Fight For Life

What ensued was perhaps the most spectacular fight the traveling band of thieves and slavers had ever encountered. They could kill all the wild creatures they met along the trails, other criminals who were stupid enough to attack their group, and the occasion patrol of guards, but none of them were a match for this one Nord.

The first three that attacked him were felled instantly. This brought the whole group after him. For such a big man, he was incredibly fast and agile. He ducked and dogged and evaded their blows, blocking with his sword and dealing out lethal strikes as the group came toward him.

There were only so many people who could get near the Nord, though, while the others surrounded him. So those not fighting him went after the Four-eared Khajiit. There was a group of scoundrels waiting at the cage’s door, trying to break it open, while others stabbed through the bars at her with their weaponry.

The Khajiit managed to outmaneuver all of their blades by jumping this way and that, and dodging this and that. The only thing she couldn’t defend herself from was an archer.

One of the men grabbed a bow from out of a cart and took aim at her. The first two shots she evaded, but the third hit her directly in the leg. Screeching in pain, she just barely evaded the next one; as it was, the arrow shot through her little Khajiit ear, causing both ears to now have huge cuts across them.

Another arrow was released the same time several blades were swung at her – jumping out of the way of the blades, she watched as arrow flew closer and closer toward her chest, right toward her heart. She held her breath, expecting to be suddenly thrown to the ground by the arrow and then finished off by the blades swinging at her.

But just as the arrow drew close enough for her to see the sharpened tip, a mass of fur and flesh flew into her sight and smashed against the cage’s bars. There was a loud gasp of pain, and instantly the Nord was on his feet again, felling those around him, charging at the archer. The archer dropped his bow and drew a shortsword, but was too late.

As the Nord’s attention was drawn away from the Four-eared Khajiit, the others went back to attacking her through her bars. She had found a spot in the center of the cage where they couldn’t reach her.

Angered, one of the scoundrels grabbed a torch and threw it into her cage. The hay and dried grass on the bottom instantly took to flames.

The half-breed Khajiit jumped back as the flames rushed toward her, getting slashed in the leg once more. Crying out in pain, and trying to avoid both flames and blades, she jumped onto one of the cage’s bars, and then up onto the bars on the top of her cage. There she hung, in great pain, in the center of her cage as everything below her burnt up. The scoundrels could not get to her from up there, and though the flames hurt her wounds and singed some of her hair, they could not kill her like that.

Some ran and grabbed hay stored for the horses and pushed it through the bars. Seeing what they were doing, a couple others ran and grabbed some firewood they had previously collected for their fires that evening. They pushed all of this through the bars toward her; there was only so long she could hold onto those bars, wounded as she was, before she would fall and burn to death.

The door to the cage was being blocked by swordsmen, so if she tried to come close to it, they would kill her. Yet, if she stayed where she was, the flames would get to her.

Crying again, what sounded like a weird mix of a human’s call and a cat’s pitiful mew, she watched as the flames jumped higher and higher.

She did not have long to wait for her call to be answered, for the Nord rushed to her defense. She couldn’t see much through the flames, but she could hear all of the cries of the falling men. Then, from the side of her cage by the door, she heard a loud clash of metal on metal. Again and again, and suddenly the door swung open. The Nord stepped through into heat and flames, trying to get to the scared Khajiit.

“Jump,” he called, his deep voice booming over the roar and chatter of the flames.

The Four-eared Khajiit looked down at him, his massive frame blocking the whole doorway. A few men ran toward him, their swords drawn, but he did not turn yet to face them. The flames began to singe the fur cloak he wore and then it burst into flames. Still he did not move, waiting for her to come down to him.

She swung down from the bars into his open arms. She clung tightly against his chest with one hand while she tore the big fur cloak off him with the other. The cloak fell to the floor of the cage and continued to burn.

The Nord grabbed two of his assailers and threw them into the cage. As screams filled the evening air, he fought the last half dozen men. All the while the Four-eared Khajiit clung to him, her two arms wrapped around his chest, her wounded feet wrapped around his waist, and her tail tucked under her body.

It was a bloody battlefield. Men lay strewn across the little clearing. The only ones left living were the caged slaves, who witnessed the whole ordeal, the group’s horses, which only stayed because they were tied securely, and the Nord and the Four-eared Khajiit, who remained with her arms wrapped around him, scared to leave.

Welcome to the forums!

Now. SLOW DOWN, please!

I am intrigued by your story. I found the first two chapters that I read this morning well-written, clever and suggesting wonderful possibilities. When I came back on this evening to review them again and comment, I discovered two more chapters, to which I was unable to give the justice I'm sure they deserved. Given some time, I hope to come back and read chapters 3 and 4 properly.

If you post too fast, people will read too fast, missing your intended details, or get frustrated by their inability to keep up. Your choice, but I would suggest posting a chapter no faster than every two or three days. Ok, please forgive my little rant.

The first two chapters are wonderful. They seem almost suggestive of a 'beauty and the beast' type poignancy, and again, were very well written.

*

Edit: Chapter 3. Nice suspense and tension! Somehow I suspect the Nord and Khajiit will form an unlikely alliance, but that is deliciously on a razor's edge at this point. Very well done!

Edit: Chapter 4. On fight scenes, read the work of others and stick to what you are comfortable with. You show no need to apologize though. You did not need to detail each slash and paried thrusts etc to create the tension and excitement you so successfully did here. It was a wonderfully exciting fight scene, full of action, heroism . . . and the beginning of a solid relationship forged in the heat of battle and sealed with with blood. So far, your story is wonderful. Both your characters are physically flawed yet they both tug at my heart - even at this early stage of your story. Well done!

I held my breath through the last two chapters!!!!! This is AWESOME!!! You wrote a riveting fight scene, don't ever say you can't write a good one!

On the censor: Lucky thing it didn't say "Mother of honored user" or "Mother of your boats" (lol)


All I can say is MORE!!!!!!!! PLEASE !!!!! AND CAN YOU POST A LINK TO YOUR FANFICTION SITE?

I love the fight scene, very nicely done. I'm also loving the character of the Nord, your descriptions are awesome and your characters are really spectacular. So basically...more please.

......eagerly awaiting more......

I couldn't stand the suspense, I went to the FanFiction site and hunted down your profile - and read the full story - AWESOME !! I loved it!!! And will enjoy the re-read here too!!!

Acadian, thanks for the advice. I’ll slow down a little now. Sorry. I’m glad you liked the fight scene. Lol. It gave me great difficulty, so I’m usually more critical of things that don’t come as easy.
hazmick, Remko, thanks so much for the comments.
mALX, I’m glad you were able to find it on fanfiction.net, and thanks so much for all the comments and suggestions you gave me there!




Chapter 5: Her Three Choices

The Nord fell to his knees. The Khajiit jumped to the ground before he landed, crying softly at the pain in her legs. She looked in amazement and horror at the warrior in front of her. His face was pale now, his body was covered in his own and many others’ blood, and his sword had fallen from his hand.

The Four-eared Khajiit slowly dragged the heavy sword away from his grasp. He did not protest, but just look up at her, waiting for her to make her move.

After several seconds she slowly lifted the blade up with both arms, cradling it for extra strength, and placed it in his lap. She drew back a little.

“Come,” he commanded weakly. With great effort he rose, sword in hand, and went to the carts of slaves. The slaves backed away as he swung his blade against the lock. After a few hits, it broke open.

“Search the bodies and free the others,” the Nord commanded. “And one of you bring me fresh water and bandages for myself and the Khajiit.”

The newly freed slaves scrambled to do as they were told. Any slavers still alive were killed, and the Nord commanded that all the bodies were searched for any valuables. All good clothes were to be stripped off them and cleaned in boiling water.

There were two groups of slaves. The men, who were used as cheap work hands, were mostly Khajiit, Orcs, and Argonians – people who would not be missed. The women were of all races, most of them very young and beautiful. They were to be sold as “wives”.

Both groups of slaves did as they were told, and brought clean water and bandages for the Nord. The Four-eared Khajiit nearly ran several times when the others came near her, but the Nord tightly held onto her hand, keeping her beside him all the while. She could have broken free from him if she really tried to, but his firm grasp seemed to reassure her as much as it scared her.

The Nord had the Khajiit help him remove his clothing and give it to the freed slaves to be cleaned. He then had her wash out his cuts. She obeyed, though she cringed and ducked every time he hissed or cursed in agony.

The Nord then made the Four-eared Khajiit sit down as he examined her wounds. He washed the blood off her, and, after cleaning each wound, and dabbing them with a stinging substance he put on a little, clean rag, he made her drink a strange liquid from a strange looking vial.

“This will heal you,” he explained as he took one for himself.

Alas, when he examined her second pair of ears, his vile, powerful potion would only close the tears. “The flesh is torn off the ears – it will be scarred for the rest of your life,” he gently told her. She seemed too much in pain to worry about that, though.

One of the wounds she received in the side of her stomach hurt a great deal more than the others. When he brought the clean cloth across it, she cried out and, jumping back a little in her seat, hissed threateningly. The Nord ignored this though.

“Shut up,” he told scolded. “Do you think I liked getting an arrow in my chest to save your skinny little self? No. So you don’t complain about a little pain like this. If it gets too bad as I clean these out, dig your fingernails into the chair and cry. Understand? Now don’t worry, I’m going to give you something to heal these up. I just need to clean them first.”

His voice was so serious that the half-breed Khajiit felt she had to obey him, but there was something more, too. There was a softness in his black eyes and a gentleness in his deep, harsh voice that made her trust him. She very reluctantly slid back in her chair, and, digging her fingernails into it, allowed him to continue.

“I want you to talk to me,” he told her as he worked on. “I don’t want you hissing at me. If something is hurting you, I need you to tell me. Hissing and growling isn’t going to let me know what you think or feel.”


That night as everyone slept, the Four-eared Khajiit slowly crawled out from under the thick blanket the Nord had put her in. He told her that he wouldn’t put her in a cage, but that he didn’t trust her yet, so he had her hands tied in front of her and a rope tied around her waist. The rope was connected to his wrist so that if she made any fast movement, he’d know.

She observed that he had his sword and a dagger close at hand.

It was very easy to slip out of the ropes because he didn’t tie them as tightly as he should have; he didn’t seem to want to hurt her.

She carefully slipped the dagger away from his hand. She now had three choices in front of her:

Firstly, she could stay. He seemed to be nice to her. But what if that changed? Would she get another opportunity to escape after this? Now he was still wounded and sleeping; escape would be easy.

But when he was no longer wounded, what would happen then? He was so much bigger and stronger than she, and a fighter like none other that she had ever seen. Escape from him would be impossible.

Still, she had never known what it was like to be alone and to fend for herself. Even worse, she was a half-breed birth defect with four ears. All anyone wanted to do was laugh and throw things at her. What did he want with her? Did he intend to hurt her? Did he want a servant? Did he want a wife? Would being the wife of a big monster like him really be that bad if he was nice to her? Yes, he was ugly and deformed looking, but that didn’t mean he was bad. She was ugly and deformed, and she wasn’t bad, was she?

She shook her head and pondered that for a while.

Then, secondly, she could run away. She could try to escape as he was wounded and slept. But, still, there were many creatures out there. She didn’t really know how to protect herself. And, of course, he’d come after her. If he could kill all those men, then he could definitely hunt her down.

Or, thirdly, she could kill him and run away. That was the best choice. If he was dead, he couldn’t come after her. She’d feel much better if all she had to fight were the many beasts of the forest instead of the barbarian Nord and said beasts.

She sat beside the sleeping Nord pondering all of these thoughts. The dagger lay ready in her hand, and a couple times she raised it above his chest. Something always made her pull away, though.

You brought out a truism in this story - a lot of them, but one in particular I thought was spot on and is rarely spoken - the lack of trust in someone with solid black eyes. It is almost as if the viewer projects their mistrust onto the character and that one has to give more than the average to prove otherwise - really awesome detail that makes the story that much more real!! I love this story, I can't say it enough! It is just as Awesome on the second read !!!!!

That should be 'scarred', although it would be frightening having your ears torn up.

Nasty nitpicking aside, I really enjoyed this chapter. The Nord is trying to save this poor Khajiit but she isn't used to being treated nicely so has made herself believe that there are three choices, I'm just hoping that she'll figure out the best choice and put down that dagger!

Hmmm....
You know, honestly, I think it all depends on what you grow up seeing. If everyone you know has light blue to light brown eyes, you grow up learning to understand the emotions those eyes can show you. There's no big deal with them. Darker eyes, on the other hand, are much harder to read because you're used to only light eyes, and, if you can't read their eyes, you can't seem to trust them.
For an assignment once, I interviewed two Chinese sisters, who were exchange students. They had just come about a year earlier to the US. When I asked them about what difficulties they were experiencing/had experienced here, they mentioned they had a hard time putting names to faces still, as so many faces looked alike to them; there were tons of light haired (there’s a lot of dyed blondes out there ), light eyed people with the same or similar hair styles. Our eyes were at an odd slant, and they had a lot of difficultly reading them at first, as they were so light.
I just thought it was ironic that they had the same complaints about us that so many people have about them...all look the same and had slanted eyes that were hard to read. And I guess it all gets down to perception and familiarity; you understand what you see the most.
Okay, that was a tangent…
*Ahem* Thanks again mALX.

Thanks for pointing that one out. Please tell me if you catch any more like that!

I agree wholeheartedly with your rant, we trust the familiar - good or bad...and suspect the unfamiliar regardless. Great thought, and that you included that detail in your story is huge!

Excellent sobering aftermath where your characters show much of themselves by their actions. Very effective descriptions.

Three choices. I loved your Khajiit's rumination as she pondered her options.

Well done!

I really liked the last part but I would have loved it even more if you had given a voice to the Khajiit by having her struggle inside rather than you telling she was struggling with her 3 choices. I would have loved some kind of thought process from her. Some internal monologue or something like that.

Thanks for all the responses ya'll!

Chapter 6: New Clothes for the Khajiit

When the Nord awoke the next morning, he found the Four-eared Khajiit sitting beside him, his dagger in her hand. She looked as if she were ready to strike him, but after a few seconds, he realized that she was sound asleep. She must have been awake all night pondering killing him, until she drifted off to sleep with the dagger still in her hand.

He smiled a little; so she escaped, stole his dagger, and even though he was at her mercy, she decided against leaving or hurting him.

No one else seemed to be awake, so he just lay there and looked up at her. She still wore the blood stained rags from the night before; he hadn’t dared ask her to take them off to be washed. Anyway, he’d have her wear something more covering than the little loincloth and chest covering she wore. Her attire helped add to the image of her being a savage half-breed, and it didn’t look as if it would be very helpful in the cold regions of Skyrim.

Carefully sitting up, he stopped himself from cursing aloud at the pain of his wounds, and slowly reached out to take the dagger from her hand. He had it half way out when a deep cut in his side suddenly tore open further because of the movement.

It was just a little gasp and whimper, but it was enough to wake the Four-eared Khajiit. She opened her eyes suddenly and drew the dagger back.

“Stop it now,” he ordered as she raised it above his arm. She hesitated for a few seconds, pondering what to do. “Give me my dagger back,” he commanded, his rough voice taking on a threatening tone.

She didn’t obey, but she did allow him to take if from her hand.

Cursing under his breath from the pain, he told her, “Help me with this. Get me some of those cloths.”

She jumped to obey him as she realized that he was once again bleeding. She quickly searched the area for a clean rag and pressed it against his wound.

“Thank you,” he muttered after a few seconds. “My clothes. See if they’ve finished drying, and grab a dress for you.”

The Four-eared Khajiit looked at him questioningly, but obeyed. The clothes were hung in the middle of the camp on a makeshift line. It was easy enough to tell the Nord’s clothes apart from all the others, his being nearly completely fur. She just grabbed a dress that hung on the line for her.

“Hmm…They’re a little damp still, but they’ll do. Wait, what’s this?” he asked about the dress. She shrugged her shoulders as if she didn’t know. Why did he tell her to get a dress? “It’s a rag; it’s not a dress. And anyway, you’re too small for it.” Grumbling as he got up, he told her, “Come on, lets go.”

They quietly made their way back to the long line of clothes and the half breed Khajiit watched with interest as the Nord went through all the clothes. The first thing he grabbed was a small black, velvety cloak.

After visually measuring it on her, he went back to the clothes in question. He pulled out two long white under-skirts, both very heavy; a pair of women’s undergarments for the top and bottom – he blushed greatly as he held them out at arms length trying to visually measure them against her; a pair of thick black pants and a matching shirt; and two dresses.

Both dresses were obviously stolen – more black-market material to be sold. One was velvety red and decorated with gold and silver ribbons. The sleeves were made of red silk. He wasn’t sure what the latest styles were in the Imperial City, but surely this had to be on of them. The other dress was of white velvet and silk, and very similar in style to the red one.

“Alright, these should fit,” he told her. He had been so intent on what he had been doing, that he didn’t even notice the Khajiit staring at him with wide eyes of wonder. “Oh, do you like them?” he whispered, slightly raising the dresses up for her to see.

The Khajiit still didn’t say anything, though, and just looked at him with questioning wide eyes.

“Okay, let’s go – we need to go wash the blood off us and dress,” he explained, feeling greatly unnerved by her silence and her constant gaze. She obediently followed him back to their sleeping area – where the Nord grabbed some supplies – and past that, away from the carts, to a little stream. There was no one around, and in case anyone awoke, they were completely covered from view by all the carts.

The Nord dropped the bundle of clothes to the ground, slipped his nightshirt off and went into the water. A few seconds later, his long boxers came to the top of the water and he threw them onto the shore beside him.

“Well, get in here,” he told her.

Her eyes bulged out of her head. She shook her head frantically and ran toward the cart.

“Oh, get over here. I’m not going to look!” The Nord protested. She stopped and watched him, suspiciously. “You need to wash all that blood off you.” Pointing behind him, he said, “Here, you bathe over here so I can’t see you, and I’ll bathe over here so you can’t see me. But you need to hurry before everyone gets up.”

Very cautiously, and much farther down the stream behind the Nord, she slipped into the water.

Chapter 7: Baths

After washing his hair and scrubbing himself down, the Nord glanced back to see what the Four-eared Khajiit was doing. She hadn’t even begun to wash; in fact, she hadn’t even slipped out of her clothes yet. Her bar of soap had sunk to the bottom of the creak, and her cloth was floating beside her in the water.

Completely oblivious to the fact that he was there, the half-breed played in the water. Amazed at the visual perception of something half way through water, she splashed around trying to grab at her feet and tail.

She was apparently having great fun, splashing and laughing all the while. She chased her own tail; she created ripples with her fingertips; she caused large waves to cover her tail; and she dived under to find pebbles.

All the while the Nord watched her, mesmerized, completely forgetting that he stood naked in the stream and that soon the others would be awake.

A little fish swam by and bit the Four-eared Khajiit’s tail. The Khajiit cried out and lifted her tail to see what was clinging onto it. She was horrified at first, but when the little thing fell off, she bounded after it to catch it.

The Nord burst into laughter. Looking up, the Khajiit suddenly remembered why they were both in the water. Quickly wrapping her arms across her chest, her ears flattening across her head, she hissed at the Nord.

He laughed a little. “You have to take those off in order to bathe,” he reminded her. The Four-eared Khajiit looked down and realized that she was still clothed. Slowly, and somewhat embarrassed, she dropped her arms to her side.

“I’m going to go dry off and get dressed,” he told her. “No looking!” The Four-eared Khajiit stared at him, horrified and offended. The idea was so outrageous that she never even thought of it!

“I said don’t look,” the Nord laughed. “Now stop playing around in there and get cleaned up. You need to help me make breakfast.”

The Khajiit watched him move from the water, still afraid that he might try to hurt her, until he reached shore, when she quickly turned her eyes.

She didn’t notice the big smirk forming on the side of his lips.

She slowly slipped her clothes off, nervously glancing up at him every half a second or so to make sure that he was where he was supposed to be and that he wasn’t watching her. Every time she glanced up at him, though, he was either completely or half naked, doing exactly what he said he was going to do: drying off and getting dressed.

After a couple moments of fearfully glancing up and quickly looking down, she realized she had to find her cloth, which had been drifting down the stream, and the soap, which fell to the bottom of the water.

The Nord was completely forgotten about as she began to rinse the hardened blood off her pale flesh and out of the thick fur of her tail. In fact, it was only after she had completely bathed, and had finished chasing after fish and playing with her bar of soap – trying to get it to float like the cloth, and watching mesmerized as it sunk to the bottom of the stream again and again – that she remembered the Nord again. And that was just because when she looked up at the bank of the stream, he was completely gone.

Panicked, she looked around to make sure he wasn’t sneaking up on her.

He wasn’t. He wasn’t in the water. He wasn’t in the forest, and he wasn’t on the bank. Had he drowned? Had he abandoned her? Would she be forced to rely on the mercy of the other slaves? What would they do to her?

Wading through the water to where she last saw him, all the while scanning the bank and the forest edge, she searched unsuccessfully to find the Nord.

“Master?” she whispered.

I've waited to comment until I had a good feel for this story.

That said, let me say that you had me at "Fulfilling a Promise." This is quite a story, full of characters that are three-dimensional and imperfect - my favorite kind of characters. They are very interesting and full of mystery, just the way I like to meet new characters.

This most recent installment had me smiling at the Khajiit's kitten-like behavior (though most kittens don't like water . . .) as she played with the water and her tail.

I'm interested enough in this to keep reading for more!

This is. . . lovely! And developing very slowly and nicely.

The baths is my favorite chapter - Four Ears playful antics in the water made my day the first time I read them, they are just as much fun the second read !!! Awesome!!!

* stomps foot and wags tail in annoyance *

Well?! I'm waiting...

/Cat-itude

More, please

Thank you, haute ecole rider, I’m glad you enjoy it. Hmm… I think it’s the Bosmer in her that likes the water more than anything. Lol. You know, I actually have one silly cat who won’t drink water unless at least one paw is in it. Lol. Hmm…
Acadian and mALX, thanks for the comments.
Rach, lol, thanks for the comment. “/Cat-itude.” You know I can’t write or edit anything, though, when I’m sick and I have Prince of Persia to watch and to make music videos with! WOOHOO! PoP FTW!! *Ahem* Okay, I'll shut up now....



Chapter 8: For the Love of a Dress


Her voice was soft and hoarse, as if it was very rarely used. She opened and closed her mouth a couple times before the words came again, “Master?” Again she called for him, this time much louder, “Master?”

She made her way to shore, once again searching the stream and forest for him. She ran past the clothes spread across the grass and past the little cart, looking around the nearly empty encampment, her panicked voice weakly calling out, “Master! Master!”

She didn’t have far to look, however, for right by their sleeping area, the Nord had already packed up their sleeping gear, had prepared a meal of eggs and some sort of meat, and was saddling up a horse.

The Nord looked up at the naked Four-eared Khajiit running toward him, calling his name. And he looked down, instantly, covering his face.

“Mara, what are you doing?” he asked, not looking up or uncovering his eyes.

The Khajiit, overjoyed to see that he hadn’t abandoned her, and suddenly embarrassed when she realized that she had no clothes on, stopped dead in her tracks.

“Mara, go get your clothes on. They’re back by the stream – I’ll wait for you here, okay? Now go!”

She stumbled backwards and quickly ran back behind the carts. The Nord let his hand slide away from his eyes as he heard her leave, and he shook his head. That was…embarrassing… He certainly wouldn’t tell her mother about that.

After several moments, the Khajiit came back, very slowly and fearfully, dressed in the dripping wet rags she always wore.

“Mara, you’re in wet clothes,” the Nord observed, reproachfully.

“Sorry,” she answered in a voice so low that he could barely hear her. “… All Four Ears have.”

“But what about the clothes I gave you?” the Nord asked. The Khajiit didn’t answer, but just stood there, not sure what he was talking about.

“Come,” the Nord once more instructed. He led her back to the stream and picked up a dress. “I have pants and a shirt or this dress. Here, feel the material,” he instructed as he held out the skirt part for her feel.

She very cautiously dragged her finger across the dress, awed by the soft, beautiful feel.
“You want it? Here, take it.”

The Khajiit took the dress, rubbing her finger across all the ribbons and lace, silk and satin. She had never felt anything so soft, so first her fingers ran across it, then her whole hand, then she ran it across her arms and tail, and rubbed her whole face in it.

“Umm, you’re supposed to wear it,” the Nord, his brows raised a little, told her.
The Khajiit’s head jumped up at his words, and she hugged the dress against her chest in a defensive manner.

“I’m not trying to take it away from you, but if you don’t wear it, I’m going to… Now, you need to put it on.”

The Khajiit shook her head and took to her heals. She ran alongside the stream a few feet and climbed to the top of a tree. The Nord, tired and annoyed, followed after her.
“Come down here now,” he instructed.

She shook her head again, as she clung tightly to the dress and hissed down at him. This wasn’t a ferocious hiss as she had given him before – her face did not distort into a mix of fear and anger – rather, this was a defiant hiss.

“Don’t make me climb up there and bring you down,” the Nord demanded. When her only response was to ignore him as she continued to rub her face into the softness of the rich fabric, the Nord carried out his threat.

Once again he surprised her. Being such a big man, she thought for sure that he would be slow to rise, but he leapt from branch to branch and was upon her in a second or two.
The little creature panicked. If she jumped down, she could hurt herself. If she jumped into the stream, she’d hurt herself and get the dress wet. He was too close to her to go down any branches without getting caught. She looked around not sure where to go or what to do.

“Come,” the Nord told her, reaching out his hand. “I will not take the dress from you. I’ll even give you another one if you come down with me.”

The Khajiit glanced around, seeing if there was anywhere else she could go. As there wasn't, she slowly reached her hand toward the Nord, the other still clinging to the dress. The Nord carefully brought her closer to his reach, scooped her up in his arms, and brought her down with him.

She jumped out of his arms before they had even reached the bottom of the tree, and she waited several feet away for him.

The Nord was not in a good mood now. He walked over to the pile of clothes and picked up the other dress. “This is also yours,” he told her as he tossed her the bundle of red fabric. She caught it and examined it, even more impressed by it then the other dress.

He grabbed the black shirt and pants, tossing them to her, telling her, “These are all yours. Wear whatever you want, but just get out of those rags and don’t play around with the rest of your clothes.”

The Khajiit nodded slightly and pointed toward the rest of the pile.

“These are skirts. This one has the lace – you always have to wear it when you wear a dress. This other one is if you want more of a poof to your skirt. Some women wear only the lacy one, and others will wear up to a dozen or so of these, depending on what the fashion is.”

The Khajiit pointed to the other two articles of clothing on the ground.

“Those are…you know…. You mean you’ve never had these before?” The Nord picked up the underwear, “You…wear it… You’ve had this before, right?”

The Khajiit shook her head in agreement, but pointed to the bodice piece on the ground. “It’s…you know… a girl’s thing… Kinda like the …thing… you’re wearing now. You wear it.” The Khajiit tilted her head from side to side to look the item. It was peach colored, and covered the upper chest and most of the stomach. She shook her head in disapproval at it, and squeezed her new dress and pretty black shirt close to her.

“No, you have to wear this,” the Nord told her. “It goes with the dress and shirt. You just wear the dress or shirt over it.” Sighing impatiently, he told her, “Look, I don’t know how to explain this. Just put on your underwear and then either one of the dresses or the shirt and the pants. I’ll be by the campfire waiting for you. Hurry up, ‘cause the foods getting cold!”

With that he left, leaving the Four-eared Khajiit to look over the new clothes she had.

It was nearly half an hour later by time she figured out how to wear her new clothes, tried on all three pairs, running and jumping in each to see which would be easier to escape in should the need arise, and finally came to the camp fire to eat.

Her food was cold, of course, but that wasn’t what bothered her. The new clothes felt very restrictive compared to what she had worn before, and the Nord wouldn’t stop looking at her. She didn’t know why he did, but it scared her. She suddenly felt more naked than she did with the shreds of cloth on.

Chapter 9: A Name for the Khajiit

The Khajiit was obviously hungry, for she finished her meal within seconds. The Nord gave her some stale jerky to chew on, but it was rather hard for her, so she was forced to eat slowly. They ate for several minutes before the Nord broke the silence. “You look very good in that.”

The Khajiit nearly jumped out of her seat. She calmed down when she realized he had only spoken, but she still looked over at him suspiciously.

“You still haven’t thanked me for getting you those clothes or saving your life,” the Nord reminded her.

“…Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad to see that you’re finally talking to me, because I have a couple questions to ask you. But first, we have to make some rules. First rule is, you must never try to kill me. Actually, the first rule is, you must never kill me. And the second rule is, you musn’t try to kill me. Do you understand?”

The Khajiit slowly nodded her head in agreement.

“Good. Then, I need you not to run away from me. … Agree to that please.”

After several moments of hesitation, she answered, “Four Ears no run.”

“Good. And then, I want you to stop hissing at me. Agree again, please.”

“Four Ears agree.”

“Good. Now repeat the rules to me.”

It took several moments for her to answer, but she very slowly answered, “No kill. No run –”

“Ah, no trying to kill me either,” he reminded her.

Ducking a little as he responded, expecting him to lash out at her for having missed one of their new rules, she continued, “No hiss?”

“Yes, that’s right. Now Mara, I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to answer me honestly. Please don’t be afraid.” She did not say anything, but only looked over at him with eyes full of fear; so far she wasn’t doing very good with the “don’t be afraid” command of his.

“… I need to know what he did to you that made you kill him,” the Nord slowly began. “Was it because he was selling you to me? Was it because he did that to your poor ears? Or…the thing with the rat?”

She did not answer. The Nord slowly ran his hands through his hair in frustration, “Look, I need to ask you something. I’m going to put it very bluntly, and I need you not to be afraid. And I need you to tell me the truth, okay? I need you to tell me…did he, at any time, umm…touch you…uhh… rape you, and if so, did you ever have any children?”

The response was two big eyes full of fear staring at him. “Look, you have to tell me,” he explained. “If you have a child – his or anyone else’s – we need to go find it. Is it in this camp?” She didn’t answer, so, sighing deeply, he begged, “Please answer me. … Do you have any children?”

The Four-eared Khajiit shook her head no.

“Okay, did he or any of his scum friends hurt you like that…you know, sexually?”

The Four-eared Khajiit shook head no again. “Four Ears is animal. Master only likes Dunmers.”

The Nord breathed a sigh of relief.

“But new Master likes Four Ears?” she asked.

“NO! No! No, no, no. Never. I mean, I like you, but I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. It’s because I like you that I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Master no hurt Four Ears? No beat Four Ears? No make Four Ears wife?”

“No, no, master won’t do anything like that. In fact, master has a name, you know. Master’s name is Svein Leifegil, but most people call master ‘The Nord’.”

“The Nord? Master wants called The Nord?”

Shaking his head, he agreed, “Yes, you can call me ‘Nord’ if you want. When I was younger, my best friends called me that, so I would like if you would, too.”

After several moments, she asked him, “Master let Four Ears talk?”

“What do you want to say? – And call me Nord.”

“Old Master beat Four Ears if talk. Nord let Four Ears?”

“Mara, I want you to talk. I want you to tell me what you are feeling and thinking. I want you to tell me what you are afraid of and what you want. Do you understand?”

The Khajiit shook her head in agreement. “What is Mara, Mast-Nord?”

“It’s you.”

“No, master. Name Four Ears.”

“Nord,” he corrected again. “Is that what your old master called you? Four Ears?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not your name: your real name is ‘Mara’. Do you want to know how you got that name?” The Four-eared Khajiit shook her head yes. “Your mother named you that, Mara. Do you know anything about your mother?”

She shook her head yes. “She is Two Ears?”

The Nord shook his head in agreement. “Yes, she has two ears. Her name is Jo Dar. You have never seen her before, because they took you from her when you were just born. She wanted to name you ‘Mara’ after her goddess. She always told me she was going to find her little baby girl. She said she’d be able to find you because you had four ears – two human and two Khajiit.”

Tracing his finger across her pointed human ear as she jumped and cringed slightly, he said, “Well, elfish ears. It was a Bosmer who raped your mother. It was he who sold you. He was so horrified to see that you were a deformity that he tried to kill you, but she saved you.” Taking her quivering hands in his, he told her, “Mara, your mother is dying. She begged me to find you. I’m not sure if she’s even still alive, but we need to get back for her to see you. Do you understand?”

I'm still enjoying this!

one nit: it's a bit confusing. Did you mean As there wasn't, she slowly reached her hand toward the Nord, the other still clinging to the dress.?

I know how it is editing when you're sick, tired or distracted!

I like how you keep the two main characters well-rounded, giving us glimpses of each one's personality, thoughts, emotions and motivations. That's what makes character-driven fiction so much fun to read.

I loved it when Four Ears started talking - not just the original part where she says "Master" - but all of it!! This is one story that never gets old no matter how many times you read it!!! Awesome story !!!

haute ecole rider: Thanks - fixed that one.
Okay... this chapter is a little long...

Chapter 10: Homeward Bound

As soon as everyone woke up and ate, the Nord had them gather all the gold and treasures they could find and he split the wealth among them all, Mara included. He split the horses and wagons among the freed slaves, giving Mara a little black mare. He also sorted the clothes so they all had an extra pair.

“Gold is mine?” Mara whispered.

“Yes, this gold is yours. I would normally give you more as you’ve been through more than most here, but I intend to take care of you myself.”

“Take care?” she asked. “How?”

“I’m going to give you a house on my lands; we’ll be neighbors. You’ll never have to pay me rent, and I’ll always be with you to take care of you.”

“Give Four Ears house? Just for Four Ears?”

“Yes, unless you want to live with me. You can be my guest.” Mara’s eyes widened a little, so he quickly explained, “Mara, your mother was very good to me when I needed help. So now I want to help you, because that’s what she wants.”

The Four-eared Khajiit looked over at the Nord, a strange mix emotions dancing in her eyes. “Mara thank,” she finally whispered.

They set out at once. The Nord promised to bring the freed slaves to the next settlement they came to. They were lucky to have him with them, as they ran into danger several times along the way.

It fascinated Mara to see the Nord fight. Though they never ran into as much trouble as they had that one night when he saved her, they still were faced with several dangerous situations.

The Nord stayed awake most of the night watching over them. Some nights she’d wake up to the sounds of battle, but sometimes she would sleep right through it and awake to find a Minotaur or pack of thieves dead in the middle of their camp.

One night they were attacked by a pack of wolves, and her horse and a couple others were slain. The Nord killed every one of the wolves that stayed and fought, and chased after and felled the ones that ran. It was terrifying to hear the howls and yells echoing through the forest trees over the thick, foggy night air. When the noise ended, she and all the others were sure that the impulsive Nord had run to his death. But a few seconds later he slowly stomped back to the camp, bloodied and annoyed, growling and muttering about what a nuisance the lack of horses would make.

As everyone else needed the remaining horses, the Nord had Mara ride his big warhorse while he walked beside her.

The horse was a little frightening, it was so big. But the Nord insisted she ride it, so, rather than walking, she got used to the Nord lifting her up to the big saddle.

As soon as they arrived at a settlement, the Nord bid the others all ado, and he and Mara left.

“Now that they’re at safety, we need to move as fast as we can. I pray we get back in enough time.”

“But Mara tired.”

“Mara can sleep on the horse.”

“Mara hungry.”

“I just bought more supplies – eat something. Have some more jerky.”

“Mara hate jerky. Jerky hard and hurt teeth.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“Mara scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Being alone.”

“Alone? You’re with me.”

“Mara know. Mara afraid of being with just Nord.”

“But weren’t you scared of them? I never saw you talk to them or anything. You hissed anytime one of them went near you.”

“Yes, but Mara still scared of you.”

The Nord laughed a little at this. “We’ve been a week on the road. How can you still be afraid of me?”

“Mara is,” the Four-eared Khajiit told him. “Mara afraid take bread and cheese and even gross jerky away. Leave rat to fight. Mara afraid take pretty clothes away. Mara afraid make wife.”

“Mara you do realize don’t you that when they sold those women to be ‘wives’, they weren’t real ‘wives’ as the term is meant to be used. I mean, you can’t buy someone to make them your wife or husband.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” the Nord told, getting somewhat flustered. “Because when you meet someone and they become your husband or wife, it’s their choice. It’s because they love you, not because you’re rich enough to buy them. We only buy horses and clothing and furniture, not people.”

“But everyone does it.”

“No, not everyone. Even in the old days when slavery was legal, not everyone did it. Only scum did it. Mara, what those men do when they buy their ‘wives’ is what your father did to your mother.”

“But master told me there were nice ones and then mean ones, like Nord.”

“Me?!”

“Yes, master said Nord wanted to beat and hurt Mara.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to beat or hurt you… When you say hurt, do you mean…?”

“What man did to mother.”

The Nord nodded. “I would never hurt you, Mara, and there’s very little you could do that would make me hit you, never mind beat you.”

“What Mara do make Nord hit Mara?”

“Well…I don’t know…umm…threaten to kill someone.”

“What Mara kill someone?”

“No! You could never do something like that. Murder is wrong. When you killed your old master, that was one thing: he deserved to die. But you must not kill anyone else.”

“Mara killed Orc before.”

“Why?”

“Mara was sold as wife. Orc was nasty. Would hurt Mara. Master told if kill Orc, would take back. Mara killed Orc. Then Master said he would sell to nasty man like Orc. Sell to Nord.”

The Nord listened to this with interest, an eyebrow rising up at the end of the sentence. “Well, Nord isn’t going to hurt Mara,” he told her, noting how bad his sentences were getting as he kept trying to simplify them for her to understand better. “What would your master beat you for?”

“If Mara talk.”

“Well I like when you talk. In fact, after we go home, I’m going to take you to the temple where some of the priests will help you with your language. Have you been taught to read or write?”

“Master know how to read. Not write. Master no teach anything. Four Ears animal. Animals don’t know anything.”

The Nord nodded. “What else did he hit you for?”

“Mara no know. Mara hit all time. Mara get beat badly, though, when Mara’s bowl broke.”

“Well, don’t worry, I won’t beat you if you break anything. I just want you to be careful when you’re handling things. Especially glass.”

“When Mara was little, Mara stole. Food and doll. Little doll with big dress like Mara wears now. Master beat really badly. So Mara tried run away. Master beat again. Then Mara hit Master and bit.”

“And then your Master beat you really hard?” the Nord asked. Mara just nodded. “Don’t worry, Mara, I won’t do any of that. You won’t run away because I’ll treat you good. You won’t steal food because I’ll always give you food and because then you can get in trouble with the law.”

“Mara already stole.”

“What?!”

“Not from Nord!” she quickly told him, ducking from him. “From people.”

Stepping in front of his horse to stop it, the Nord looked up at Mara, demanding, “What did you take and where is it?”

Mara quickly took a piece of cloth from inside the saddlebag and handed it to the Nord. “See? None of Nord’s.”

The cloth itself was a rag of old, finer material. The Nord didn’t even want to know where she found it. There was a nice supply of food she had stolen from the little shops, and little trinkets she either stole or picked off the ground. Most of the stuff was completely worthless, but she did manage to snag someone’s ring.

“Where did you get this?” the Nord demanded.

“Finger.”

“Whose finger? And you took just the ring and not the finger, right?” he asked, cringing.

“Finger ugly and fat,” the Four-eared Khajiit told him, confused. “Old man had it. Have to take old man to get finger. No want old man. No want old man’s finger. But ring come off. Take ring. Not finger or old man.”

After carefully examining the ring, he declared, “Thankfully this is not worth much. However, it could mean a lot to him. Mara, what if this was the ring of the old man’s wife? What if this was all he had left to remember her by? And you just took it from him.”

The Four-eared Khajiit looked down at the Nord, her eyes displaying frustration and remorse. “But…”

“But nothing.”

“Do you realize what would happen if you were caught? They’d send you to jail. Do you want to go to jail?”

The Khajiit shook her head quickly.

“Don’t ever, ever, ever steal something from anyone else again. Do you understand me?”

She shook her head again, tears starting to form in her eyes. “Master no hit Mara?”

“I told you to call me Nord. Don’t call me ‘master’ again, do you understand?”

The tears fell down now, and she cringed slightly as she told him. “Yes master – Nord. No hit Four Ears.”

“Mara,” the Nord once again corrected. Sighing deeply to rid himself of his frustration – though it didn’t work completely – the Nord told her, “I’m going to leave these on the side of the road. Hopefully the patrol will find it before anyone else does. I can’t take it back, though, because then you’ll be in big trouble.”

“Yes mast-Nord.”

The Nord dropped the sack onto the ground and they walked on. Mara looked back at the beautiful things she had collected – the ring, the trinkets, the food. All of it was gone now.

“Stop crying,” the Nord grumbled. “You’d be crying a lot more if you were in jail now.”

“Yes Mast-Nord,” she answered through tears. “Nord hit Mara?”

“I think you learned your lesson this time. But if you steal again, I’m going to have to. Do you understand?”

“Yes master. Mara no steal ever. Promise.”

“Good,” the Nord told her, inwardly begging that she didn’t, for fear of how he’d have to get out of his threat.

Chapter 11: Punishment

It rained all that evening, so the Nord set up camp in some old ruins. Mara didn’t say much during the trip, but broke into tears frequently. Now that they actually stopped, she just sat by the fire pit, watching the flames, her ears flattened against her lowered head.

“Stop sulking,” the Nord told her as he took the saddle off his horse so it could eat.

“Yes mas-Nord.”

“Eat something while I get more firewood.”

“Yes.”

The Nord disappear for a little while but soon came back with another arm full of wood. He added some of it to the fire and put some of it a nice distance away to add it later on. He then sat down across from the Khajiit and began to eat.

“This bread is good,” he commented.

“Master mad at Four Ears?” she whispered, still not daring to look up at him. She softly ran her hand across her tail in a petting motion. Her ears still hugged the side of her head.

“No, the Nord isn’t mad at you.”

“The Nord leave in forest?”

“No, I’m not going to leave you in the forest.”

“Nord hit?”

“No, I’m not going to hit you. Mara!” she cringed as his tone rose in aggravation. “I’m not mad at you any more. Relax.”

“Yes master.”

The Nord looked over at her, skeptically, as he continued to eat. “Mara,” he stated as he finished his big chunk of bread. “Come here.”

The big-eyed Khajiit slowly approached, her tail tucked. As soon as she got close to him, she fell to the ground in a fetal position, covering her head.

Raising an eyebrow, the Nord sighed and knelt on the ground in front of her. “Sit up,” he instructed.

She slowly rose, kneeling in front of him, with her tail still tucked and her arms covering her face.

They sat there for several minutes, the Nord just staring at her, waiting for her to look at him, and the Four-eared Khajiit just cringing, expecting to be smacked around. But it never happened. Her tail slowly began to move, and her arms slowly, ever so slowly began to slip from off her head. They rose again when she saw that the Nord was looking directly into her face, but then they came down again. Up again. And then, finally, down again, completely. She sat there, waiting for him to hit her.

“Look at me,” the Nord instructed. She slowly raised her eyes to meet his.

“You don’t like my eyes, do you? Why do you always look away from them?”

Cringing once more, she answered. “Eyes scary. Pure black.”

“So you can’t tell what I’m thinking or feeling? If it’s any consolation to you, most people were afraid of my eyes. Now it’s my face they don’t like, but… the eyes don’t help, either. Please put your arms down.”

The Khajiit slowly obeyed.

“You seem to think that I’m going to punish you for what you did. I suppose you’re right: I really should. Ah – put your arms down. When I went to the temple when I was younger, they used to take a little rod and smack your hand if you were bad. That is the method I will use.”

The Khajiit slipped her hands under her armpits. The Nord took a long, thin, freshly shaved rod from beside the pile of wood that he was storing. “I made this from a branch,” he told her as he picked it up and swung it next to her. The rod made a loud cracking noise through the air. He swung it several more times, watching her cringe at each hiss and crack it made.

“I’m sorry Mara, but there’s no way to get out of this. Now make it easy on yourself and show me your hands.”

The Four-eared Khajiit slowly brought her hands out, though it would have been a little hard to hit at something that shook that much.

“I am going to give you the option of five or ten hits. Which do you think you deserve?”

“Ten?”

“Probably, but would you prefer if you only got five?”

“Yes master.”

“All right. Then five hits it is.”

He dropped the rod into her hand. She opened her eyes and looked up at him.

“I am acting as your guardian, so I will take your punishment this time,” he explained. “You have to give me five of the strongest hits you can.”

Mara, her eyes huge, just looked down at the rod in her hands.

“Mara! Concentrate! Look at me. Thank you. Now take the rod in your hand. Yes. Now hit my hand with it.”

The Four-eared Khajiit shook her head no.

“Do it Mara. Now.” Again she shook her head. His voice rose, “Now! Do it now!”

She had been taught to obey, no matter how much it hurt or could hurt her, so as soon as his voice began to sound threatening, the rod fell with great force across his large hands. She gasped with horror when she realized what she did.

“Do it again!” he yelled, cringing slightly at the sharpness of the blow. She smacked him once more, without thinking.

Realizing that as soon as he yelled at her she would do as he said, he ordered her, “Again! Again! Again!”, each time receiving a hit just as hard as the other. His thick skinned hands were red and puffy, making him wonder what would have happened to her little hands had he actually been beast enough to hit her like that.

The Khajiit just stared at his hands, horrified. She was one part horrified and remorseful at having just hurt him and another part terrified that he might retaliate after all that she just did to him.

She stood there, shaking, tears welling in her eyes. The Nord wrapped his arms around her and brought her to his chest. “There,” he whispered, “You’re not going to steal anything again right?”

She shook her head in agreement against him.

“Then there’s nothing wrong. There’s nothing to be worried about. Everything’s okay.”

The Khajiit shook and cried in his arms.

The rain began to get heavier and heavier, and soon it was pouring out of the sky. After several moments of hugging her, she finally began to calm down. Still not fully calm, though, and shivering from the fatigue of crying so hard and from the cold rain beating against them, the Nord picked her up, wrapped his cloak around her, and held her in his arms.

The whole night they stayed like that, the Four-eared Khajiit wrapped tightly in the Nord’s arms, jumping and whimpering every time a lightening streak shook the earth and illuminated the sky.

I love it when she talks in third person !!!!! I got teary-eyed the first time I read the part about the whipping though. Awesome Write !!!!!!

Chapter 12: Crossing the River

The lightning storm died away slowly toward the morning, and Mara slowly nodded into sleep. Not wanting to wake her, but being in a rush to get home, the Nord set out with the Khajiit cradled asleep in his arms.

She was a deep sleeper and didn’t wake up until about midday that day. It was actually a nightmare that stirred her from her sleep. She whimpered and whined and muttered something incomprehensible, twitching and jerking her arms and legs as if she were trying to escape from something or someone.

The Nord pushed her up onto his arm as he took his free hand and gently rubbed her face and head to calm her. This seemed to work, for she stopped whimpering when he ran his hand across her face, but started as soon as he stopped.

As they were nearing a river that they’d need to cross, he decided to put her down under a tree and let her wake up by herself so that she could eat and prepare to cross the raging river.

As he laid her down under the shady tree, her head slipped and rubbed against a root. This didn’t wake her fully, but she sleepily nuzzled her head back and forth, a soft purr sound emitting from somewhere in her throat.

The Nord knelt beside her to see what she was doing: she was rubbing one of her big Khajiit ears against the tree root. He put his hand under her head and began to gently scratch behind her ear. This seemed more favorable to the Khajiit, as her purring grew louder and louder, and she slowly leaned her head back into his hands.

But this only lasted a few moments. As soon as consciousness took hold of her, the Khajiit jumped up, hissing. Looking around, she only saw the Nord. She tilted her head, questioningly, at him.

He slowly reached out his hand toward her. She ducked a little but allowed him to bring it to one of her ears and scratch. At first she was too scared to realize how much she enjoyed it, but soon she started to purr lowly. Then she began to awkwardly lean back into his hand, purring much louder. He scratched both ears with his two hands, and, purring uncontrollably, she leaned her head farther and farther in toward him, until, her eyes closed and her head rested against his broad chest, bringing their faces but inches apart.

The Nord was at first highly amused and interested in this strange behavior, but, as he looked down into the soft face in front of his, the long orange eyelashes, the little pink nose and the soft red lips, he soon found his attention drawn toward other thoughts. Even her two sets of ears were beautiful. Unusual, but beautiful.

Pulling away quickly, making the Khajiit loose her balance, he rose, telling her, “We need to eat quickly so that we can cross the river. Do you know how to swim?”

Somewhat confused at what had happened, she answered, “Mara swim? No.”

The Nord nodded. “All right then. The current is really strong, and it could easily sweep you away. You’re going to have to wear a rope around your waist to keep us together, so in case you slip, I can drag you back to safety. Do you understand?”

The Four-eared Khajiit nodded slowly, though she didn’t really. Whatever master said was what had to be done.

“You’re also going to have to hold onto my back as we cross. The horse is going to have a hard enough time crossing by himself, so it will be dangerous for you to be on his back, especially if he falls. I’m going to hold onto his reins to help him across, and you’re going to be on my back, holding onto me. Do you understand?”

Again the Four-eared Khajiit nodded her head.

After crossing the river, which was a scary ordeal for the poor Khajiit who clung so tightly to the Nord as they crossed that he could barely breathe, they continued on again all that day and night.

“Mara tired,” the Khajiit grumbled. “Must sleep.”

“We need to keep traveling. I promised your mother I’d bring you back. Every hour counts; we lost half a week by bringing the others with us.”

“But Mara die if no sleep.”

“Then sleep.”

“We stop?”

“No, you can fall asleep on the horse.”

Mara cried out in protest. “Mara fall and die!”

“Then Mara can sleep in my arms like she did last night.”

Again the Four-eared Khajiit protested, but after another ten or so minutes, she agreed to it. “Just don’t hurt Mara,” she told him.

“Why would I hurt you?”

“And no drop Mara?”

“Why would I drop you?”

The Khajiit jumped into his open arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his shoulder. Her tail wrapped around one of his arms.

“No drop,” she reminded him. It took her but a few minutes before she fell asleep, muttering, “No move.”

That sums up their developing relationship at this stage very nicely. I like what you are doing with the two protagonists - it makes me want to keep reading.

I loved this chapter !!!! Nord slowly gains her trust just as he begins having thoughts of his own. You do an AWESOME job with cat behavior in Four Ears !!! (Mara, but I always think of her when she first started talking and called herself 'Four Ears' in third person)

LOL, how like a cat! Negotiating for her own way 110%, and, before you know it, she's giving the orders.

This story is awesome, can't wait to read more!

@ All: Thanks for the comments - I tried really hard to make her have as much feline behavior as I could. Also, I tried really hard to show her trust in him slowly build. I'm glad it's working.

Chapter 13: Monsters in Cloaks

The odd couple traveled on for several more days and nights; all the while the land got colder and colder. Along the way they came across a couple settlements. Though the Nord rushed them through, not letting them stay a night at the inn, he did buy her a few things – odd trinkets that caught her attention. He also bought more food and allowed her to eat and drink at the local tavern, as she cried and moaned about being hungry and cold.

Just as they did in the first town they went into, the Nord covered his face with the cloak’s hood, and he instructed that Mara do the same and that she not take it off her.

At one settlement they went to the local tavern, ordered a hot meal and were in the middle of eating it when a group of guards ran into the pub, declaring, “We’re looking for a Khajiit. She was seen stealing from one of the local shops.” The Nord clasped his hand down on Mara’s leg, questioningly. She looked up at him, shaking her head.

“Has anyone seen – you there, strangers!” He stopped and pointed to the only two cloaked figures. “Who are you? Take off those cloaks so I can see your faces! Do as I say! Now!”

The Nord obeyed. A gasp rose from everyone in the room, and several other patrons moved to seats further away from the odd couple.

Mara was shocked. She looked from the Nord to the other faces in the room and then back at the Nord. What was he thinking? Was he angry? Offended? Was he going to beat them up because of their insolence?

She slowly dropped the cloak off her face, and again a hiss rang through the little room.

“What the hell is that?” one of the Guards asked no one in particular.

Mara clung to the Nord’s arm. She knew what looks of shock and fright meant. It meant food and rocks thrown at you. It meant more gasps and murmurs of hate and fear. It meant being laughed at and hurt.

She hated these people. All of them. They were all alike. She just wished they’d all go away. She wished they’d all die.

Her lip started to curl up, revealing sharp Khajiit teeth underneath. Then she hissed, her face distorting into pure hate.

The guards reached for their swords as the Nord put his arm in front of her, whispering, “Mara, stop.”

Mara did not listen, though, as her fearful eyes watched the guards’ fingers grip around their sword hilts and all the bar patrons behind her began to move together. She hissed even louder, threatening them to stop. She growled and hissed some more, her ears back against her head, the fur on her tail standing up, and her body tensed, ready to run, jump, or attack.

“Mara! Now!” the Nord commanded, his deep voice booming through the whole building. Mara obeyed this time. She straightened out and stopped glaring, though her ears didn’t rise. “We’ll tell you if we come across any suspicious looking Khajiit. In the meantime, though, my companion and I are eating.” He sat down now, pulling on Mara’s arm for her to do so. She slipped into the seat next to him, still eyeing everyone suspiciously.

As the Nord picked up his spoon and began sipping at his hot soup, over half the pub filtered out. Even the guards reluctantly left, telling the owner to call for them if any incidents happened. The rest of the room glared disgustedly and fearfully at the couple.

Mara couldn’t eat like this. She couldn’t stand to be watched like this. When they were cloaked – when no one saw them, they treated them well. Was she really a monster? And the Nord? Was he? Yes, he was scary sometimes, but he was good and nice. How could anyone hate him?

She just gazed down at the table in front of her. Soon someone would do something to hurt her. She knew it. She could feel the scorn-filled eyes glare at her; she wanted to run from them or to hurt them, but her master told her to sit, so she had to sit.

Then suddenly she felt it. Someone threw a bowl across the back of her head with such force that it broke apart. The Khajiit cried out, grabbing the back of her head with both hands and sobbing in pain.

The Nord spun around in his seat, making the culprit, a Breton, cringe a little, but he boldly and drunkenly declared, “Freaks. Get out of here.”

The Nord ignored this and instead brought the crying Khajiit into his arms, glaring threateningly at the other man all the while. “Shhh, shh, it’s okay Mara,” he whispered to her. “It’s okay. Maybe we should just leave here, okay?”

Sniffling, Mara nodded her head in agreement. The odd pair turned to leave when something else was thrown at them. It was another bowl again, but this one was full of steaming hot soup and it landed in the middle of the Nord’s back.

The Nord cried out as the hot broth burnt his flesh. Mara spun around. The Nord was the one who saved her. He was the one who protected her. And now, when they were doing as the scum wanted them to do, they dared to hurt her master?

Hissing and growling, her tail growing thicker than the Nord had ever seen it, she leapt across the room before he even had a chance to grab her back. Jumping across a full table and set of chairs, the Khajiit landed on the Breton, the force of her jump knocking him to the ground, and with a mighty rage began to beat his head into the floor.

The attack was too sudden for him to retaliate, he was too scared to know what to do, and everyone around him had fled, so it seemed like nothing could save him from the Khajiit’s anger.

The Nord, however, came and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the fallen man. She struggled and struggled, hissing and growling, but she could not break free from his grasp.

After several moments of struggling, she finally began to settle down. “Relax,” he whispered. “Calm down. I know he hurt you. I know. I know he hurt me. But beating him – no matter how much I want to – isn’t going to help. Relax. Relax. Breathe normal. Now talk to me, Mara. Talk to me. I told you to always talk to me when you’re scared or hurt. Talk to me.”

Mara’s anger slowly subsided, and as the Nord gently whispered to her, her anger turned to frustration and her frustration to tears. Turning around in his arms, she wrapped around his neck and burst into tears.

“Men hurt master.”

“I know,” he soothed.

“Men hurt Mara,” she continued.

“I know,” he told her once again, but his voice was lace with anger as he glared down at the panting man in front of him.

“Men always hurt Mara,” she continued. “Poor Four Ears. Four Ears beat and hit. Spit on. Laughed at. Thrown things at. Everyone hates Mara. Mara monster.”

The Nord squeezed her tighter in his arms, gently rubbing his hand over the back of her head and kissing near the massive bump that was forming from the broken bowl.

“Here,” he told her, taking a small amount of coins from the pouch on his belt. “I need you to pay the pub keeper while I see if he’s all right,” he told her, referring to the man she had beaten.

Mara took the coins and slowly rose. She was not only hurt, but now also betrayed by her master. How could he be more concerned for that monster than for her?

Mara slowly walked up to the front of the bar where the cowering the pub keeper hid under the counter, and she dropped the coins on the countertop.

The moment the Khajiit turned her back to them, the Nord grabbed the Breton by the throat and lifted him off the ground. His large hand nearly engulfed the other’s entire neck, and he squeezed so hard that the other’s face began to turn purple.

“If you ever touch her again, I’ll tear your throat out with my bare hands,” he growled.

The Breton was dropped to the ground, and the Nord was by Mara’s side just as she turned to see what he was doing.

“Let’s go,” he growled.

The ride out of town was filled with strange stares and fear-filled gasps. Mara, riding on the back of the big warhorse, her ears resting atop her head and her head fallen, and the Nord walking beside her, pretended they didn’t even notice anyone else.

Chapter 14: Scars from the Past

After they had left town and were far enough away that the trees and mountains began to block their view of it, Mara asked, “Master mad at Four Ears?”

“No,” he replied icily.

“Master hate Four Ears.”

“No.”

The Khajiit’s ears fell across her head again.

“It has nothing to do with you,” he told her, his voice still laced with aggravation and anger. “It has to do with me.” Mara didn’t look up at him, as she wasn’t sure if she believed him or not.

The Nord’s hands clenched in and out of a fist. “Laws be damned!” he suddenly declared. “I wanted to beat the Breton’s face into the wall! I probably would have if it wouldn’t have gotten you in trouble, too. But just being with me you would have. Just being a ‘monster’ you would have.”

He sighed deeply and sat down on a big rock. He was sulking.

Mara observed him for a while before slipping off the horse and sitting on his lap. He grunted a little but allowed her on his legs.

“Why people not like master?”

After several moments of silence, he replied, “People are afraid of me.”

“Why?”

“Well look at me! I’m a monster! Look at my face! How can you not be scared by this?!”

Mara tilted her head from side to side to observe it. “Not pretty,” she told him at last. That only got a scoff from him. “But not scary – master too nice to be scary.”

“Will you stop calling me master?!”

Once again lowering her ears and bowing her head for a few seconds, Mara asked, “Nord?”

“Yes?”

“Can I touch?”

“Touch what?”

“Face.”

“No!”

“Why not?”

He scoffed slightly, explaining, “Sometimes, when it rains, water runs into the cuts. I can feel it run all the way down to the bone. They literally cut down to my cheekbones! It drives me crazy. To feel something go inside me like that – the wind, the rain, a bug, a chunk of food. Have you ever pushed a bug out of your face? Literally sitting inside your face?!”

He tore at his hair as he spoke, taking out large chunks of soft black hair as his fingers writhed from mental agony. Mara softly touched his hands.

“Master?” she whispered.

He allowed her to take his hands off his head and push them down to his side again. She slowly brought her finger up to his face and began to trace along the hideously large scars. Then she ran her hand across them to feel them more.

The Nord moved his head away from her.

The Khajiit slowly leaned over and kissed his cheek. He turned to her, questioningly, but she didn’t seem to notice much. She kissed him once more on that cheek and then on the other cheek. She kissed his forehead, and, as he had still not pushed away yet, she brought her lips down his scarred face in tiny kisses until she reached his lips. She softly pressed her little lips against his bottom lip. Still not satisfied, she pressed her lips against both of them in an awkward kiss.

The Nord pulled away from her now. “Stop,” he instructed.

“Why?” Mara whispered.

“Because…it’s wrong.”

“Why?”

“It is. I came to save you. Not to use you.”

“Use Mara? What that?”

“It means that you’re venerable. You’re not used to people being nice to you. Treating you like you’re a human. So of course you’re going to feel that you like me. But you don’t really.”

Mara didn’t understand that, so she leaned over again and said, “Master could make Mara wife.”

“Mara!”

“Master said wife needed to want husband. Mara want Nord as husband.”

“It’s different Mara. It just is.”

“Master never marry Mara?”

“Never. …Well, probably never.”

“When?”

“When Mara has matured enough and seen more of the world so that she knows for sure that it’s me and not someone else she wants,” he explained, slipping into her way of talking. It was becoming easier and easier for him to do that lately.

“Who else Mara want?”

“Well anyone! You might find a nice Khajiit –”

“No! No! Mara no like Khajiit. Khajiit scare Mara.”

“Mara, you are a Khajiit…”

“Still scare Mara.”

The Nord sighed and, smiling, shook his head at her. “Does anything not scare you?”

“Nord.”

The Nord nodded.

“Master want to start travel?”

The Nord nodded again. Mara decided to walk beside him as they continued on their journey.

“Why so snow?”

“Because we’re in Skyrim now.”

“What Skyrim?”

“Where we are now.”

“It cold.”

“Yes, well we Nords like it.”

“Mara no like.”

The Nord smiled. They walked on for a ways before Mara asked him, “How face get hurt?”

The Nord’s face clouded. “I was always an ugly man, you know,” he confessed. “They told me when I was younger that I was dropped on my face as a wee babe, and it wouldn’t surprise me. And then, of course, I have these black eyes. You’re not the only one afraid of them. I was always told to tell people what I was thinking and feeling, because a man’s soul is read through his eyes, but not through mine. Mine hides my feelings and thoughts.”

“Not from Mara. Mara starting to understand Nord’s feelings.”

Ignoring this, the Nord continued, “Well, my father was a Blade. My mother died and he took me with him wherever he went. Then he died. The Blades took me, raised me. I became the ‘Little Nord’, and, when I was older, ‘the Nord’. They told me that somewhere in Skyrim I had a family estate and money waiting to be claimed, but I wanted to be a Blade. They told me to find my old home and see if the civilian life was for me. If it wasn’t and I came back to them, they would make me an official member of the Blades.

It was my greatest desire.

I was traveling through when I came to a little place called Hackdirt. The people there seemed weird, but I didn’t pay much attention to it. I was tired and wanted to rest. I rented a bed at their inn.

I’m not sure what happened, but all I remember is falling asleep and then waking up to someone sneaking into my bedroom. There weren’t that many, so I could have easily killed them all, but…”

“But?”

“There was a mage among them. I’ve never felt such powerful magic; it knocked me out cold. The next thing I knew is that I was underground, tired to an altar, with some sort of magic barrier holding me down.


I don’t know what they were saying, for they talked in a language I never heard before. They had primitive weapons. They took a boar’s tusk and ran it across my cheeks. Both of them. And then… then… Well, you can see what they did. They were about to kill me, but the magic barrier must have worn off from all my struggles. I grabbed their leader and killed him with his own boar tusk.

I’m not sure how, but I was able to kill them and escape. I didn’t kill them all, unfortunately, because most ran as soon as they saw their leader fall.

I ran and ran. Somehow I made it out of the cavern and out of Hackdirt. I was found by another Nord. He brought me to safety.

It took months – over a year – for this to heal, even with the help and prayers of the monks. When my friends, my family – the only ones I had ever know – the Blades – saw me… well…they couldn’t even look at me. They were too disgusted and ashamed.

I wandered from town to town. No one wanted me there. No one wanted to help me. To look at me. Then I ran into the Nord again, Igor. He ran an inn up in Falkreath: Igor’s Inn.

We talked for a while and he helped me find my old ancestral home in Whiterun. It was Igor who introduced me to your mother. He found her starving in the Imperial City, sickly and dying, begging for little things of coins, so he took her with him. She acted as his assistant, and he gave her food and shelter.

Well, Jo Dar felt sorry for me, so she followed me instead. She helped me settle into my new house. She made me realize there was a reason to still live.

Alas, though, her illness got worse and worse, and nothing we gave her would help. Not the magic of the monks nor any of my potions. Only the gods can heal her, and they won’t.

She would always tell me about the little four-eared daughter of hers, but she never told me where you were. She always said, ‘Oh, somewhere. Somewhere. Someday her mama will see her again. Someday.’

It was only when she got so bad that we had to take her to the monastery to stay that she told me your story. As soon as she had her freedom, she traveled from city to city trying to find you or any news of you. She had no money or food, and when she got sick, she couldn’t even steal to keep herself alive.” He paused for several moments before telling her, “We’re going to be at Falkreath in a couple more days, and then it’s a two day and one night trip to Whiterun. Your mother is resting in the monastery there. When we get to Falkreath, we’ll stop by Igor’s Inn and see if he has any news about her. Mara, it is possible that your mother is already dead.”

You have a tremendous ability to bring out the emotions in the reader with your story - Awesome Write!

Thanks so much mALX. I'm glad I'm not the only touched by my writing... Sometimes I'll have to stop writing sad parts in my fanfics because it saddens me so much, but I never know if it's just because I'm attatched to the characters or if it really is good emotion.

I read your post this morning but didn't have time to comment until now.

You have done a wonderful job yet again developing your characters and bringing them to life for us. The confrontation in the tavern is very realistic in the attitudes of many people toward strangers that don't fit their concept of "us". And the tale the Nord told Mara (and us, the readers) finally explains his scars, and that is a wonderful reveal of his character.

I truly enjoyed this chapter.

I'm attached to your characters too, I don't think it's possible to read this and not become attached, especially to Four Ears !!!

I agree with the ladies. Wonderful characterisation I can really see the nearly feral Khajiit in Mara.

Okay, this chapter is more fluff than anything else, but I wanted to show more of them together. The idea was actually inspired by a picture I saw a long time ago of an actor who was strong enough to let the actress he had just starred with sit on and stand on his arm... I always thought that was cool...

haute ecole rider: Thanks. I’m glad you liked the part explaining his scars. I figured I had to explain those, but I wanted him to be able to tell the story. It would be easier for him to talk about something so traumatic to Mara, because she also went through episodes of hardships and torture in her life. Also, I thought that if he actually did tell her, it would be something that would help her understand and like him more.
Remko, thanks. I fear poor Mara is always going to have her feral Khajiit moments.
mALX, hehe, I’m glad you like Four Ears. She’s the most unusual character I’ve ever written..but my favorite.


Chapter 15: Playing in the Snow

Falkreath was a cold and barren looking place. To the Nord, this hard land and way of life seemed just fine – he was used to hardships and he loved the solitude. Also, it was in his blood to be immune to such low temperatures. His thick skin and many furs kept him warm and happy, but the poor thin-skinned, petite Bosmer-Khajiit couldn’t stand the cold.

She wore her two dresses over her pants and shirt, and then wore her cloak, his cloak, and an extra shirt of his, but she still shivered uncontrollably.

“Mara cold,” she cried.

“It’s Skyrim.”

“It’s cold.”

“No, it’s Skyrim.”

“Skyrim cold. Mara hate Skyrim. Sun hate Skyrim. Run from Skyrim.”

The Nord just laughed.

“Mara cold!” she cried again.

“Then maybe you should walk – it will make you warm.”

“Mara no want to walk,” she whined. “Mara get colder. Get snow in feet. Freeze legs. Then Mara freeze – die in cold.”

The Nord sighed. “Hold on for a second,” he told her. He climbed onto the horse beside her and, wrapping her up in his arms, told her, “Here this will keep you warmer.”

They rode on like that for the next few days and nights. Mara slept in the Nord’s arms whenever she was tired, and, even if she wasn’t sleeping, she usual was in his arms to keep her little body warm. She hated all the snow, so when she wasn’t riding on the horse or sleeping in his arms, she would climb onto his back so that he could carry her through it.

It soon became a great source of entertainment for her during the long cold days to bother him. She’d pull and tug on his hair until he became mightily annoyed. She’d blow on his ears and even occasionally lick them just to make him holler at her. She’d laugh so hard that she’d nearly fall off him. Every time she became too restless, he’d drop her into the snow and then stop her from getting onto the horse. She’d jump and cringe and whine so much that she’d soon promise not to bother him again as long as he got her out of the horrible snow. He did, of course, but it would be no more than thirty minutes later that she started more trouble.


One time when he had knocked her into the snow, she jumped up immediately and grabbed onto his arm, lifting herself off the ground. He threw his arm to side hoping to knock her off, but she not only managed to stay on, but also to climb up onto it.

He would have tossed her into the snow again, if she had not declared with excitement that he was able to hold her up with his arm.

“Of course,” he told her. “You’re really small, but I’m afraid –”

“No!” she cried. “Mara see how long Nord keep on arm.” She giggled a little and bounced up and down to see if his arm would give out under her weight. It did not. He walked along, his arm extended and the little Four-eared Khajiit sitting on it, laughing.

“Mara see if can kneel on arm. No drop Mara,” she told him. Leaning her body against his neck for support, she carefully knelt down on his arm. Giggling with glee, she bounced up and down on his outstretched arm.

“Mara stand!” she told him. Once again using the Nord, who sighed profusely but smiled secretly, to keep herself balanced, she stood on his arm. If she was not a very agile, careful creature, she would have fallen as he trudged through the thick snow. But she was very careful and was soon standing on his outstretched arm.

“Haha! Mara fly! Mara fly!” she cried, waving her arms about. She was so excited that she lost balance and fell. Squealing, she quickly jumped up and climbed onto the Nord’s back.

“Nasty snow! Go in Mara’s shirt.”

“Well then maybe Mara shouldn’t play around.”

“Nord really strong. Hold Mara on one arm. Nord hold Mara on hand?”

“Probably, but you’d have to stay really still.”

“Mara stay still if Nord lift up in one hand.”

“Okay then, get off.”

“What?! No!”

“Get off,” he instructed pushing her off with his shoulders.

Turning around toward her, he put his hand in front of her to let her know she couldn’t climb on him. Squatting in the snow, he had her stand on his knees. “Feet together,” He instructed. “That’s right. On this leg. Okay, now stand on my hand. I’m going to lift you – stay completely still.”

Her two little feet stood perfectly still on his open palm and he slowly lifted his hand off his knees and out to the side.

“Oh! Oh!” Mara cried with delight.

“Careful. Stay still.” He slowly rose from his knees.

Mara was completely delighted. Realizing that she wasn’t going to be able to stay still as she was too excited, she jumped off his hand and quickly climbed onto him, clinging to his neck as she kissed his face all over.

“Nord strong!” she declared. “And handsome. Handsome and strong.”

The Nord pushed away from her. “Don’t lie,” he instructed. “And get off.”

Mara just shook her head and continued to kiss him. The Nord lifted her off him and put her back on the horse. “We need to keep going,” he told her.

“Why?”

“Your mother is waiting for you.”

This put Mara in a more serious mood, but she still looked over longingly at the Nord – who tried to avoid her gaze – and later had him carry her on his outstretched arm, much to her delight.

One of my fave chapters, the playfulness of Four Ears in spite of all she's been through - And in spite of his gruffness, Nord was tickled by her enjoyment! - I love this chapter!

Chapter 16: Igor’s Inn


The Nord didn’t bother trying to hide his head from the people of Falkreath. Even if he wanted to, Mara had his cloak, so he could not.

The people of Falkreath were built very much like the Nord, though their hair was fair and their eyes were bright. No one seemed to notice or care that the Nord was there, and when they saw the Four-eared Khajiit with him, they only scoffed and shook their head knowingly.

“Why people no scared of Mara?” she asked.

“Because they’ve already accepted me. If they can get over the shock of something like my face, four ears is no big deal. Anyway, Igor probably already told everyone I was trying to find you.”

“They know Mara because of four ears?”

“Yes.”

The couple rode on to a little inn in the middle of Falkreath named, “Igor’s Inn.” It was around midday, so a lot of the townsfolk were in the inn. Most people were eating, but some were gambling in a corner, while another was singing boisterously, receiving many cheers. One man was dancing to the song, his legs flying high in the air in some sort of dance that Mara had never seen before.

No one seemed to even notice them at first, and Mara gazed in wonder at the sights, sounds and smells in front of her. “The Nords drink a lot,” the Nord whispered to her. “They love the cold, so will laugh if you say you hate it. Don’t mind them. They love to fight and don’t mean any harm by their loud noise and heavy drink.”

The Four-eared Khajiit nodded but continued to gaze at the thick men and women in front of her. They were all so tall and fair and thick. She felt so small and weak among them.

Clinging onto the Nord’s hand, she whispered, “What Nord do here?”

As if to answer her question, a man from behind the counter called out to them, “Svein! Svein Leifegil!”

Mara was momentarily confused, for she had completely forgotten what the Nord’s real name was. The man behind the counter, Igor, waved for them to come closer, so they did. Sitting on a counter stool and signaling Mara with his eyes to do the same, the Nord asked, “How is Jo Dar? When have you last seen her?”

“A simple ‘hello’ would be better!” Igor reprimanded. “And this is her?! You’ve found Jo Dar’s daughter? Well take your hood off, girl! Let me see your face.”

Looking up at the Nord to see if it was all right, Mara slipped her cloak off. Igor surveyed her up and down, and finally told the Nord, “She’s a little thing, isn’t she? Much smaller than her mother. What’s your name, child?”

“Mara.”

“Mara! Excellent. You’re just in time Mara. Your poor dear mother is still alive. Why, I just got back this very afternoon from seeing her, so you’re just in time. You two are leaving tonight, right? Or are you staying overnight?”

“We’re leaving,” the Nord told him. “How is she? Is she…in much pain?”

“Complete agony. The gods are keeping her alive till she sees her girl. There’s no way anyone else could live in so much pain. Especially as she’s a Khajiit and doesn’t have the strength of we Nords.”

As Igor spoke, he noticed that he was being observed: the Four-eared Khajiit tilted her head back and forth to examine him.

“Well?” He asked her at length, a twinkle in his eyes, “Am I handsome?”

“No.”

“Mara!”

Igor burst into laughter as Mara looked up at the Nord questioningly.

“What?” she asked him.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

“Nord tell Mara tell truth.”

“Ohhh-ho-ho,” Igor mockingly scolded. “Soooo, who does Mara find handsome? There’s some lucky Khajiit, right?”

Mara shivered at the thought. “Mara no like Khajiit.” Biting her lip, she asked, “Can Mara talk to other Nord without beating? Other Nord no make fun of Four Ears?”

“Your four ears?” Igor asked. “Why would I make fun of them? They’re kinda cute. I’ve never seen a woman with four ears before,” he winked at her flirtatiously. “So, there’s no Khajiit for you, eh?”

“Mara hate Khajiit.”

Igor gasped in exaggerated shock. “Argonian?”

“Scary.”

“Orc?” Mara cringed, so, laughing, he asked, “How about a Breton?”

“Breton handsome.”

“Do you have a husband or are you still single?”

“Mara no have husband. But soon.”

“Oh?”

“Mara marry Nord.”

The Nord blushed and cringed visibly, but Igor didn’t even notice. “Oh? What lucky Nord would that be? You’re not talking about old Igor are you?”

“What Igor?”

“I’m Igor!”

“Oh… No, Mara marry Nord.”

“I am a Nord.”

“No, Mara marry Nord.”

“Oh! Oh, you mean Svein.”

“Svein? Svein ugly. Mara like ‘Nord’.”

Glancing disapprovingly at the Nord, Igor told him, “I thought ‘Nord’ was supposed to find the pretty little Khajiit for her mother…”

Blushing greatly, the Nord told him, “The ‘Nord’ did find her for her mother. He has not and will not touch Mara.”

Igor looked him over suspiciously for a little while before continuing to flirt with Mara. Mara didn’t even realize what he was doing, but was half fearful that he would turn around and attack her and half overjoyed that someone else was also treating her nicely.

The Nord and Mara were given some soup, bread and wine, and as Mara slowly ate and drank hers, talking and laughing all the while, the Nord looked on at her and his friend.

How dare Igor be mad at him if he and Mara fell in love along the way? How could he flirt with her in front of his very face when he thinks that they are a couple? Doesn’t he see that she doesn’t understand what he’s doing? Doesn’t he see how naive and innocent she is? Until just a few days ago, most men only laughed at her and made fun of her. How confused was she going to be now? She shouldn’t think that men flirting with her was normal because though Igor was a harmless, nice flirt, there were many men who were not. There were many men who thought that if a woman accepted their attentions, they could do anything they wanted with the woman. Would she let them, not knowing what they were doing?

The Nord’s brow creased and the spoon in his hand began to take a different form as he continued thinking.

Igor, meanwhile, was laughing at the fact that Mara didn’t like snow.

“Mara get buried. Up to here,” she continued talking, as she showed him how high the snow came up to her. “Nord have to carry.”

“Svein carries you?”

“On back, so Mara no get cold. And on arm. Nord very strong. Mara can stand in hands.”

“I see…” Igor said, his voice laced with concern. “Does he carry you around a lot?”

“Only when Mara no walk in snow. Small snow is good. And then, Nord carry Mara while sleep. Must walk Nord says. Get to cold place soon. Walk all day and night to see mother Two Ears.”

“Ah…” Igor seemed a little relieved.

“No stay in villages either. Keep walking. But Nord buy Mara nice stuff in village.”

“Like?”

“Food. Mara love food.”

“How can you? You’re as skinny as a deer carcass the wolves have got at. You’re nothing but bones.”

Mara took this as a scolding, and muttered, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be! It’s not your fault. Doesn’t Svein feed you anything?”

“Nord feed Mara all time. Won’t eat unless Mara eat.”

“So what do you like to eat the most?”

“Fruits. Fruits sweet.”

“So you like sweet stuff, eh? Have you ever had any of Igor’s special pie?”

“Pie? What pie?”

“What’s pie? Oh-ho, Mara, where have you been living all your life?”

“Cage.”

“What?” he asked, caught off guard.

“She was kept by slavers,” the Nord told him quietly. “They called her ‘Four Ears’, and kept her in a cage as part of their traveling show.”

“Oh… Oh….” Igor muttered silently. Glancing up at the Nord he mouthed, “Must tell me later…” Then he smiled at Mara as if she had said nothing amiss and told her, “You, young miss, are going to get a rare treat indeed.”

He took away her empty plate and bowl and brought her a slice of pie. The Nord slipped a fork to her so that she knew how to eat it, and she was soon singing a chorus of “Ohhh,” “Ahhh” and “Mmmm”s. Igor gave her a couple other pieces, as she liked the first so much. It delighted him to see how much his food was appreciated.

After that Mara couldn’t help noticing a vase that he had bought from the Imperial City. As she took such a fancy to it, Igor told her to take it. Mara was jumping up and down for joy – literally.

The Nord, by this time fuming, though for what reason he did not quite know, asked Igor if he had a room for them. As Igor did, the Nord sent Mara up to sleep for an hour or two before they set off again.

While she slept the Nord told Igor of his travels, where Mara came from, the abuse she endured, and how he rescued her.

Nord jealous of Igor, ROFL !!!! I love how natural Four Ears is with Igor...and Nord feeling the first pangs of jealousy !!! Awesome chapter !!

Good stuff! I admit, I too cheated on fanfiction.net ... but I will keep reading here. This is a good story. I love the characters...the Khajiit is a great balance of frightened feline and human, feral and yet tame creature...

Good writing!!

Chapter 17: Jo Dar

They set out again after an hour or two. Mara, still tired, didn’t even wake when the Nord came into her room, lifted her off her bed and took her from the noisy inn to the stables. She shivered a little in her sleep, so he wrapped her up tighter in his arms and rode off toward Whiterun.

The temple at Whiterun was about the same size of Igor’s Inn, but so beautiful! There were statues, fine carvings, and golden objects everywhere, and the Nord had to remind Mara once more that she was not allowed to steal. Although this disappointed her a little, she agreed and obeyed. She did not obey, though, when he told her that she wasn’t supposed to run her fingers across every statue and banner that caught her eye.

The monks brought the two of them into a dimly lit room. There was a roaring fire in one corner, but there were no windows or candles, so it looked rather dark.

It took Mara’s eyes a couple seconds to adjust, and when they did, she saw the dying Khajiit lying on the hard-looking sick bed. Her breaths were deep, hoarse and painful, each one sounding as if it were the last, but one more continually coming after it.

Mara slowly walked up to the bed and examined the Khajiit. It was a real Khajiit, not a half-breed like she was.

“Who are you? You are Jo Dar? Jo Dar mother?” she whispered as she looked down at the dying creature.

The Khajiit slowly stirred, her breaths painfully hitching at abnormal rates, and her eyes twitching open. Through several gasps she asked, “Whose there?”

“Four Ears here.”

“Is it Mara?”

“Mara here. Mother want Mara here?” She knelt beside the bed, her ears flat against her head and her head bowed, as she waited for the sick Khajiit to answer her.

After several long, drawn out breaths, the Khajiit answered, “Mmm…Mar..Mara?”

Mara looked up. “Mother?” she asked.

“Mmmara…”

“Mother?” Mara repeated. “Nord said mother know Four Ears? Want Four Ears?”

“Mara, my baby…” the Khajiit sighed, slowly bringing her furry hand up to her daughter.

Mara wrapped the dying Khajiit’s hand in hers. “Mother know Mara? No hate Four Ears?”

“Mara…”

“Mother.”

“Mara, I can’t see. Let me touch your face. Let me…Let me touch your ears. Do you have… ffff…four ears?”

“Mara have four ears.”

“Let me…touch them.” Mara slowly brought Jo Dar’s hand up and gently rubbed it all over her face. “What soft skin you have,” the Khajiit told her. Then Mara brought her hand up to her first pair of ears, and over them to her second pair of ears.

“Mother love Four Ears? Even with four ears?”

Tears welled out of the old Khajiit’s dull eyes. “My baby. I’ve found you… After all these years. I looked for you... I needed you.”

“Mother need Mara?”

“I love you, my baby. I love you.”

A fresh stream of tears trickled off Mara’s face as she heard the dying woman’s words. “Mother no leave Mara. Mother stay. Mara want mother.”

Jo Dar’s breaths grew hoarser at these words, and she whispered, “I love you.” She drew her last breath.

Mara looked on at the dead woman in horror. She knew that when the deep, hoarse breaths stopped, the Khajiit was dead. Yet a part of her said Jo Dar might still be alive.

Mara shook her. “Mother, wake up. Mara here. Mother. No leave Mara. Mother? Mother? No go. No leave…”

She burst into tears and clung to the dead Khajiit.

It took the monks and the Nord a long time to get Mara off her mother’s body, but Mara cried and clung onto it, declaring that her mother loved her, and she wouldn’t leave her now that she found her.

The Nord held her tight, almost restraining, in his arms as she cried. The monks gave her a sleeping dose, and the Nord, being exhausted from the long trip, fell asleep in a room next to hers.

Jo Dar was buried in the crypts under the monastery, and the Nord and Mara spent the next week there resting.

Chapter 18: Life after Death

After learning of her past, the monks were very concerned for Mara, and, after a long discussion, they and the Nord decided it would be a good idea to take Mara away from her mother’s grave and the cold snow she hated so much, and bring her to the Imperial City. There she would meet new people and get to see and mingle in society.

If they went to the temple there, the priests and monks would be able to help her. They could teach her enough of the customs and language of their land so that she would not be thought of as a freak.

Hopefully, the Nord figured, he could get her interested in something there. The monks suggested that he bring her to the mage’s guild, and see how she does with magic. She might like it a lot and decide to study it.

He agreed. So they set off.


The Imperial City was big and grand, and Mara had never seen anything like it before. The Nord had to keep a good eye on her, as he was afraid that she’d get lost in the crowd or the temptation of stealing would be too much in a place with so much. He also had to keep an eye on her because one time he lost her as she jumped up onto a tree. Climbing after her, he was just in enough time to see her jump off onto a rooftop. Up she climbed, ignoring his yells, and up he followed, until they had gone to the City’s wall, and looking over the cliff beneath them, she held out her arms to be caught by the wind.

Huffing and puffing, the Nord climbed up beside her. The common sense implanted in him after years of experience told him to get down immediately, but the fear in him wondered how he was going to get back down.

Mara turned around at him, beaming happily.

“You’re in lots of trouble as soon as we get down,” he told her.

She giggled a little, and raising his hand up with hers, did a sort of victory roar. After several more roars and moments of awed silence and observation, Mara looked up at the White Gold Tower. “Mara go there,” she declared.

“That’s the White Gold Tower. It’s part of the castle. No one is allowed up there.”

Though Mara was incredibly disappointed, she did not argue with him. Instead, she just stood there, gazing in wonder.

“Mara, let’s go,” the Nord finally spoke.

“Mara stay all night?”

“Mara, let’s go now.”

Sighing deeply and lingering for several moments, she found a good way down. He followed afterwards, taking much longer and being much more careful.