Skyrim and the Journey of Cerise Ch. 02

Before I could say or think of anything else it attacked, me barely raising my sword in time as I blocked its slash. I immediately counterattacked as the creature raised its shield, blocking my blow. I uttered a Word of Power and engulfed the creature in flames, and although some of his skin seared, the creature seemed to ignore it.

The creature charged, knocking me back with its shield as I stumbled, jumping across one of the streams before falling in. The creature raised its shield, coming at me again and I uttered another Word of Power, summoning a wolf specter, which launched itself at the draugr overlord.

I had little time to understand how I had learned the new Word as the creature slashed at the familiar. Using the distraction, I came in on its side, attacking from its blind side.

Suddenly I saw an arrow sprout from the creature's chest, knowing Faendal must have revived behind me as I continued attacking. The creature destroyed the magical familiar, but I knew it was now weakening as another arrow found its mark in the creature's thigh.

Suddenly the creature slashed back, my stomach burning in intense pain and cold as I jumped back. Glancing down, I saw my stomach sliced open, the skin blue and frozen. Without thinking I cast a healing spell, knowing if the frozen wound thawed, I would bleed out in seconds.

The wound closed, the frosted edges disappearing as the creature attacked again, which I countered, now wary of the ensorcelled blade in its hand.

Another arrow appeared in its back and the creature staggered. Using the momentary imbalance, I swung my leg around, slamming it against the creature's calf and bringing it to its knees. Continuing the momentum of my spin, I brought my blade out, using the turn to power the blade as it entered the creature's neck, decapitating it. The body fell to the floor as I caught my breath.

Faendal came over to me, asking if I was alright; however, I was more concerned from him, as his head had blood pouring into his eyes from a scalp wound. I forced a healing potion upon him before he bled out, which he reluctantly drank, grimacing at the bitter taste.

He asked what he missed, but I was unwilling to tell him what the creature said until I could think about it. Instead, I told him he had not been unconscious long, as I had only begun to fight the creature before he awoke.

Searching the draugr, I made sure to take his sword, knowing Alvor would insist on it, even if he wanted nothing else; enchanted swords were rare.

We also found a chest near the sarcophagus containing some leather armor—not as high quality as mine, but still extremely well-made—as well as some gold and gems.

The rest of the cavern contained nothing as we curiously went up the stairs on the side of the Word Wall, the name coming out much different in my head, knowing it was a different language I was thinking.

It was then I realized the creature had not been talking to me in any language spoken today. Without knowing how, I was aware of it having been speaking its native tongue, lost hundreds of years ago—and yet I understood every word, answering in the same language—yet another puzzle piece thrown in with the loss of my memory to figure out.

We made our way up the stairs, finding a passageway that circled around and kept climbing. At the end of the passageway we felt fresh air, seeing a dark void ahead that we cautiously crept towards until we realized it was the night sky. Exiting the cave, Faendal looked around, saying we had gone through the entire mountain range, Riverwood being about a day's travel to the west.

We slowly made our way down the mountainside, the journey more treacherous due to the darkness. It was a steep climb, and I realized it would be impossible to return to this entrance, needing to go back to the Barrows to get here, marveling at the design.

Although I could still see better than normal—the increased energy from my recent ravishment of Faendal as well as that when I absorbed the Word of Power from the Word Wall—the descent was still difficult, sometimes sliding and falling several feet before catching ourselves to stop from plunging to our deaths below.

After an hour we came to the foot of the mountain, sloping at a steep angle towards the river below. Following the river would lead us straight into Riverwood.

As we looked for a safe passageway down, my foot slipped, and suddenly I was sliding down the hill, the loose rock billowing dust around me.

I came to rest in a patch of grass, Faendal hurrying down to see I was alright as I looked up at him and grinned, "Well, solved that problem," I grinned as we laughed together, the stress of the dungeon crawl making us more tense than usual.

I was dusting off my body when suddenly I was thrown to the ground, a large shape above me. I barely had time to reach for my sword when I saw the gaping jaws of a sabre cat reach down and grab my throat. I felt no pain, only the heated sensation as my blood coated my body as my vision faded to black.

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I awoke with a sharp intake of air, gasping as I reached for my throat. To my surprise the flesh around my neck was intact, no indication of any wound. As my hand felt my throat I did not even detect any tenderness, and yet the image of the sabre cat's teeth sinking into my flesh was as vivid as the ground beneath me.

I quickly took stock of my surroundings. I was laying on a bedroll in a lean-to tent, a fur hide over me, now gathered around my waist at my sudden movement of sitting up. In surprise, I realized I was also naked.

"You gave me quite a scare."

Looking up, I saw Faendal crouched down in front of me at the entrance of the tent. His words were laden with concern, but looking at him, I saw his eyes were fastened upon my breasts, heaving up and down from my frightful awakening.

"What happened?" I asked, more curious about how I had gotten here than the tightening of my breasts at Faendal's gaze.

The cool night air was making my nipples hard, but the air felt good after being beneath the furs for who knew how long.

Faendal asked what I last remembered and I told him being thrown on the grown by a sabre cat. He nodded as he looked over my shoulder at empty space.

"I thought you were dead," he said sadly. "The cat came out of nowhere. They do not usually attack unless you invade their territory; you must have slid down to its lair and woken it," he paused. "There was so much blood, I drew the animal off of you with my bow, wounding it and allowing it chase me. I was eventually able to kill it," he said pausing again.

"I was prepared to begin digging your grave," he said, sadness rampant in his voice. "I came over to carry you to the river, to clean you properly when I saw your neck was intact," he paused again, looking confused. "There was so much blood, I quickly checked for any wounds and could not find any," he said once again looking at my breasts.

"You were unconscious, but breathing I realized. I was about to make camp when I spied a light in the distance, so quickly carried you across the fjord, amazingly finding an old friend of mine camped on the other side. We removed your bloodied armor and cleaned you up. Once you were naked I could not believe there were no wounds, not even the scrapes from your fall down the hill," he paused. "Were you able to cast a healing spell?" he asked.

I took in his words, not remembering any spell, only the surprise and blackness as the animal ripped my throat out.

"It's possible," I said slowly, as confused as Faendal himself.

"Whatever the case, you're alive," Faendal said with some finality. "Your armor is still drying, there was so much blood...you had to have healed yourself somehow," he said as if trying to convince himself. "The blood alone proves you were wounded," he told me.

I scooted out of the tent, attempting to gather the fur around me, yet the fur's size seemed designed to thwart my attempts at covering myself completely. If I covered my breasts, I bared the bottom of my ass and womanhood, if I pulled it down to my thighs, my breasts were bared.

Faendal watched me struggle with some amusement, his gaze intent as each part of me was exposed to him. I was about to suggest he lend me his shirt or pants when he shook his head and backed out of the tent, leaving me to my struggles.

Finally I reached some middle-ground, knowing I was throwing all modesty to the wind as I crawled out of the tent and stood up. The fur barely covered my nipples as it extended down to the cleft of my legs, about 5 cm. If I bent over or sat down, I would expose myself, giving anybody around me a good view, but it was manageable. It was only until my armor dried, and we were out in the wilderness, so I gave up on the battle for modesty and stood up outside of the tent.

Looking around I saw it was dusk, fast turning to evening. We were in a small camp by the river, the lean-to tent and a small campfire the only amenities. Sitting at the campfire near an old stump was a hunter dressed in a fur kilt and leather chest harness. Faendal was standing near him.

They were whispering in some argument as Faendal looked up. Seeing me he looked at the hunter, "There will be no more of this talk," he said with determination and beckoned me over.

The hunter remained seating, the only seats being an old weathered log across from him or the ground. I chose the log, the cold roughened bark causing me to twitch as I sat upon it with my bare ass. I kept my legs together and slightly to the side, not wanting to expose myself to the hunter as Faendal introduced him as Mjorn.

Faendal said Mjorn hunted this region throughout the year, bringing his meat and furs to Riverwood to sell to Alvor and Lucan to stock up before returning to the wilderness.

"I can't stay in town," Mjorn said gruffly, "too many distractions," he said, looking at Faendal intently.

I wondered if his look had anything to do with their argument as Faendal looked at me, a forced smile on his face. "Mjorn and I had hunted in the past, so it was good fortune we were able to find someplace I could tend to you," he said, glancing at Mjorn again.

I thanked Mjorn for his hospitality, noticing him staring at me across the fire. The hunter's eyes were locked on my legs, the knowledge of his awareness of my lack of clothing obvious and I felt a slight thrill run through me as my exposed condition.

"Hospitality is something both given and received," he said, once again looking at Faendal.

I saw Faendal imperceptibly shake his head, wondering at the tension between the two men.

Sudden insight came to me as I saw our bags of loot, some of the weapons and armaments hanging out of the bags in view of everybody. I realized Mjorn and Faendal were arguing about compensation for us invading his campsite and impinging upon his generosity. I understood how Faendal would not want to offer any loot without my agreement, and Mjorn had probably been insisting on it since we arrived.

Looking at Mjorn, I told him, "I'm sure we can find something to repay you with, we have found quite a stash of loot on our journey," I told him.

Mjorn suddenly smiled, all the tension leaving his face as he looked at me. "See Faendal!" he laughed, as I knew I had been correct. "Even the lady here agrees," he said.

"I'm warning you Mjorn," Faendal said.

I told him to quit being rude as Mjorn smiled once again at me.

Other than the sword dropped by the draugr overlord, there was nothing in our stash I was not willing to part with. In fact, we still had the stash up in the mountains to retrieve, so there would be plenty of loot to split between us.

Faendal said he needed to speak with me and I got up to move over to him, noticing Mjorn's gaze upon my body. I knew he had gotten a good view of my ass and probably more as I had gotten up, but instead of being upset, I felt another thrill run through me at the roughened hunter's appreciative gaze.

Before Faendal could say anything I held my hand up. "No, I know what he wants, and we have imposed upon him enough. I can tell he does not usually have strangers in his camp, so the least we can do is compensate him for it," I told Faendal.

"But," Faendal started to reply when I again interrupted him, saying it was alright and that we had plenty of loot to go around. Before he could say anything else I again returned to the fire, sitting down across from Mjorn once again.

"So Faendal told me of your travels to and through the Barrows, an amazing story!" he said as I smiled.

Like any person, he was obviously interested in hearing of our travels, and I quickly grew accustomed to his blatant stare, knowing a hunter such as he did not deal with people often. We talked for an hour as the night settled around us. Mjorn was preparing a stew and we had just finished the story—Faendal's version—of the fight with the draugr overlord.

"Amazing that creatures like that exist," Mjorn said. "I've only seen the wonders of the wild, such as the large skeevers you mentioned. They tend to stick to large underground areas like the crypt you were in, so it is not surprising to find them, although being with the bandits is unsettling, but not unheard of. But the undead, amazing," he repeated. "I've also hunted those spiders you mentioned. I am surprised one as large as that still exists, as it takes many years to gain such stature," he stated.

I felt my skin flush at the mention of the spiders. A wave of desire came over me and I took in a shuddering breath as my mind drifted to the hairy creatures.

We had not told Mjorn of the affect the spider had upon me, not wanting to reveal my susceptibility to the spider's venom. Such weakness I did not want strangers to be aware of, knowing it was bad enough Faendal knew of my secret, having to slake my lust from his body.

"Faendal," Mjorn said abruptly, "we could use some more firewood if you wouldn't mind getting it?" he asked.

Faendal was about to protest when I told him it was alright. I realized he felt some need to keep me company, but I could fend for myself as I told him to please get more wood. My armor was still damp next to the fire, and it needed to stay there all night before the dampness dried out of the leather.

Reluctantly Faendal complied, moving off into the night.

"What's his problem?" I asked Mjorn, who seemed to know the man more than the short time I had been with him.

Mjorn laughed. "Faendal's always tried to walk the moral high-ground of gentile society," he said amusingly. "The problem is he is not at court or mingling with noblemen, forgetting things are done differently amongst more common folk," he said looking at me intently.

I once again felt a flush to my body at his scrutiny, my breasts tightening at his gaze upon them. Looking down I saw the fur had dropped slightly, the tops of my areola visible in the firelight. I briefly considered pulling the fur up higher, but knew if I did that, it would only show my uneasiness around the hunter, and I did not want him to think I felt uncomfortable around him.

Looking across at him, I noted Mjorn was not handsome, and definitely was more 'common' than most of the villagers. His clothes showed prolonged wear, his body dirty with splashes of mud up to his thighs. I could smell his body odor whenever the wind shifted, but I knew that was normal for most men in the outdoors. He may have cleaned up nice, but living out in the wilds for so long he had definitely lessened his regard towards hygiene.

I once again caught him starting at my body, his eyes locked upon my breasts. His attention to my body gave me slight pause, as I wondered out loud how long Faendal would be away gathering wood.

Mjorn smiled. "It has recently rained, and this is a normal spot I camp, so it will take him a while to gather up enough wood to last the evening," he smiled, as privy to some joke. "Here, the stew is ready, have some," he said, handing me a bowl.

I paused, realizing I did not know the man; however, his intentions so far had been honorable and reprimanded myself at being so cautious as I accepted the stew. Faendal would not have brought us here and left us alone if the man were untrustworthy.

I used the wooden spoon Mjorn gave me to take a large spoonful of the stew. It had a slight bitter taste to it, not recognizing the seasonings he had used, but was warm and I knew I needed to eat, realizing it had been quite some time since our short meal at the entrance of the barrows.

Mjorn talked about his recent kills as I finished the bowl, the food having an immediate effect as I warmed up, the infusion of sustenance obviously welcomed.

The hunter asked if I wanted another bowl, so I accepted. As he spooned out the bowl, I noted he did not take any for himself, asking if he were not hungry; however, he stated him and Faendal had eaten earlier, and this portion had been made especially for me.

I once again noted the bitter taste of the stew as I ate. Mjorn was watching me, his eyes slowly roving from my face to my bare shoulders, then his gaze dropping down to my breasts, then down to my legs, then slowly moving back up as we talked. Or I should say I talked. For some reason I seemed to become full of energy, my body obviously responding to the sustenance as the food apparently energized me further.

I again noted my body heating up, but attributed it to sitting close to the fire. Mjorn was content to merely watch me as I felt my body warming in response to his attention.

"So how long have you known Faendal?" I asked, attempting to bring him into the conversation. His concentration to my body was causing me to feel fervid, my nipples hard beneath the fur wrap and I was thankful it was not cloth and them poking out to his knowledge.

My entire body was heating up, probably from the new logs Mjorn had put upon the fire, and I shifted slightly towards him away from the fire, hoping my heated skin would cool off slightly. As I turned, my legs parted slightly, the cool night air upon my inner thighs causing my mind to think about my situation—barely dressed, a man who had obviously not been with a woman for a while—and I felt another thrill run through me.

Mjorn looked at me even more intently as I felt my breath quicken, wondering at my reaction and if there were some unusual spices or something in the stew to cause me to feel so warm.

"Oh we go way back," he said, apparently not noticing my discomfort. "In fact, there's very little he and I don't share. We used to travel quite a bit together as we taught each other the ways of the wild. He taught me archery, as he mentioned doing the same to you, and I taught him what I know of hunting and skinning," he said.

He continued staring at me, his eyes taking in every inch of skin revealed by the small fur and I felt my body begin to feel lust, the awareness of arousal flooding through me. I did not understand why I was reacting this way, as I did not find the man attractive; however, I could not deny how I was breathing more heavily, my mouth parted slightly as my breasts moved up and down, the friction of movement between my nipples and the hide hardening them further.

"Yup, me and Faendal tell each other everything," he said smiling as my pulse again quickened at his scrutiny of my body.

"You must be closer friends than he indicated," I said, trying to mentally calm the desire in my body.