A/N: This is a sequel to "Eira" and "Caught in the Rain". I highly recommend you read those two one-shots first if you haven't yet.
"This was a stupid idea," Rolff Stone-Fist muttered as he looked at the simple silver chain necklace.
It looked too delicate in his big, rough hands. Part of him worried that it would snap at any moment because it was too fine for a rough guy like him. The other part of him grumbled it better not since it had set him back a hundred septims.
For whatever reason, he had thought of Luaffyn when he saw it and decided to buy it as a gift for when she got back from her trip to Solitude which should be any day now. The Dark Elf bard had become a friend of sorts for the cantankerous Nord. He was notorious with his hatred and poor treatment of the Dunmer people of Windhelm, but he found most of his nights were spent in her company as she sang for the Candlehearth Hall while he nursed his mugs of mead.
Tonight, he had wandered down to the Gray Quarters to see if Luaffyn had come back to Windhelm and decided to play in the New Gnisis Cornerclub, the tavern in the poorer part of the city. She rarely sang there, but every once in a while she would disappear for a few days and when she returned, that's where she said she had been.
Rolff had lingered outside the dirty looking building before wandering over to the Sadri's Used Goods, the general store for that part of the city. He had not quite been able to convince himself to go into the bar in case other people saw him leave. What if Nords thought he drank with these dirty grayskins?
Sadri had been behind the counter when Rolff came in. His welcome hadn't been quite cold, but it wouldn't have been described as welcoming either. Rolff had spent too many nights in the Gray Quarter, picking fights with lone Dunmer, over the years to be a wanted sight in any Dunmer owned establishment. As the younger brother of Galmar Stone-Fist, Ulfric Stormcloak's personal housecarl, Rolff was a well-known figure in Windhelm. He was no longer well connected since the Stormcloak Rebellion had failed three years ago, which resulted in both Galmar and Ulfric's deaths, but that had not stopped his personal crusade against the Dunmer refugees who littered the Gray Quarter.
Brunwulf Free-Winter had done his best to clean up the ghetto that the Gray Quarter had become during the last part of the civil war, but he had also diverted his attentions to dragon attacks, reintegrating Argonians and Khajiit into the general populace, and paying restitution to Whiterun for being sacked by the Stormcloaks. Although he spoke well enough about wanting to help all of his people live well and safely, the lives of people who didn't even consider themselves part of Skyrim had time and time again become the bottom of his list of priorities.
Most people were disappointed by Brunwulf's inability to keep his political promises, but Rolff didn't mind one bit if it allowed him to continue to roam the Gray Quarter in the middle of the night when he felt like it. The Dunmer might not have been responsible for his wife's death six years ago like he had thought, but that didn't mean they were not without sin. There were plenty of them who were thieves, thugs, and layabouts just looking for a handout. If they wanted the help of the jarl, they should have joined the Stormcloaks while they had the chance. They could have proven they were just as loyal to their land as the Nords, but they hadn't. Instead, the damn grayskins had just hidden in their homes waiting for the war to be over, and now that it was they cried harder than ever for charity.
After buying the chain, he had quickly left Sadri's Used Wares before the grayskin could tell him to leave. He might have been willing to tolerate the elf's sidelong glares, but he would be damned before he took orders from one. Hovering outside of the Cornerclub, Rolff decided Luaffyn wasn't back yet since he couldn't hear her singing. There had been many nights he had heard the rhythm of her music before entering the Hearth and the only noises coming from the inn was the bustling of preparing the bar for the evening.
There was no point in hanging around any longer. It was getting dark and it was snowing heavily. No one would be outside in the Gray Quarter tonight. He would head back to his usual haunt and drink a bit before heading home instead of trolling for a fight.
The walk back to the Candlehearth was uneventful, but Rolff was suspicious once he entered the Hall. Elda Early-Dawn, the proprietress, was glaring at him as he started for the stairs that would lead to the common area loft.
"What?" he snapped, in no mood for whatever was on the woman's mind.
"I don't want you starting any trouble tonight, Rolff Stone-Fist," she said in her sharp voice. She wiped her counter as she watched him cautiously. "If you get into any fights, then you better make sure they happen outside and not in my inn. I won't have you breaking anything here again." She glanced nervously at the famous candle that decorated the hearth for which Hall was named. Last time Rolff had gotten into a brawl, he had been thrown back against it and almost knocked it over. "I'm not joking with you, Stone-Fist. You get into a fight and I'll ban you for a week."
"Why would I get into a fig-" Rolff started to ask. He abruptly stopped when he heard her voice wafting down the stairs. Luaffyn was back from Solitude!
Rolff bolted towards the loft, ignoring Elda's final, "No fighting!"
The first thing he saw was Luaffyn. She looked oddly pretty as she laughed at something Stenvar the mercenary was saying to her. It was hard to get a good look at her, as the Dunmer was surrounded by men. Adonato Leotelli, a writer who lived in the Hall, was also standing next to her while Aval Atheron, the Dunmer who ran a stall in the open market tugged on her sleeve to get her attention next. Nils, the Candlehearth's cook, was there too. He rarely came upstairs unless he was bringing Luaffyn a bit to eat and Rolff didn't see a platter anywhere. There was something about all of their grins that set the Nord's nerves on edge.
Finally, she saw him past the crowd. "Rolff!" Luaffyn called, her huge grin making his heart beat faster. The men parted to look at him and that was when he saw the Amulet of Mara. Suddenly his chest felt too tight.
By Talos, did she know what it meant? In Skyrim to wear an Amulet of Mara was to indicate interest in marriage. Sometimes foreigners were rudely surprised by flirtatious men and women, but Luaffyn was a bard. She was supposed to know the local culture and she had lived here longer than Rolff had been alive.
"I'm surprised someone like you isn't already taken," Stenvar purred as he leaned close to Luaffyn.
"Oh you," she giggled as she pushed him away. "I have to sing now if I plan on earning my dinner tonight."
"I'd earn your dinner every night if you'd let me," Stenvar promised.
"Thank you, but I'm interested in someone else," Luaffyn demurred.
She definitely knew.
Rolff thought he wouldn't be able to breathe ever again. He couldn't stand to look at Luaffyn and her little group of admirers any more. He jerked his head away as he stumbled back downstairs. Elda looked up when she heard his footsteps. She had known, that nosy bitch. She could have just told him instead of rambling about her stupid Hall and fights.
"Give me your strongest drink," he demanded as he slammed some coins on the counter. As she opened her mouth, he snapped, "No fighting. I heard you the first time, you damn harpy."
Elda sniffed at the insult, but she still swept the coins into her hand before giving him a bottle of Black-Briar mead. Rolff eyed the bottle and decided tonight was a three bottle minimum sort of night. He threw more money at Elda who silently gave him the additional bottles. She had been running this inn for the last twenty years and knew when to argue with a guest and when to let him drink in peace.
Rolff stomped back upstairs and took his normal place by the fireplace. He popped the cap off the bottle and took a long healthy drink straight from the container instead of pouring it first. It felt like liquid fire flooding down his throat and settling pleasantly in his stomach. He hadn't eaten since he had woken up hours ago so within moments he had a thrumming buzz throughout his body.
Normally, Rolff sat so he could watch Luaffyn play, but tonight he was turned so he could watch the flames flickering in the hearth. The heat felt good on his face after being outside and definitely the flush of anger he felt when he thought about the group of men who flocked around Luaffyn every time she stopped to take a break.
The Dunmer never sat with Rolff unless it was late at night and everyone had gone home, but she would frequently sit nearby as she drank tea to sooth her throat or tune her instruments. Not tonight though. Instead she was constantly bombarded with the attention of the rest of the patrons. They were buying her drinks and flattering her shamelessly. It was enough to make Rolff sick.
"Stupid idiots fawning over a dumb grayskin," he grumbled as he downed his second bottle. His right hand reached into his pocket where the necklace was. He traced the thin silver with his thumb. It had definitely been a stupid idea to buy it. First thing tomorrow he would go back and demand a full refund. The elf had clearly overcharged him for a simple piece of jewelry to begin with and Rolff wasn't going to let that stand.
Around midnight Elda came upstairs, a rare occurrence.
"Listen up, the lot of you," she trilled. "The snow is coming down extra hard tonight. It'll probably turn into a blizzard too long. So either pay for a room or head home because I'm not letting any of you freeload tonight."
There was much grumbling from the various patrons and a few even risked sticking their heads outside to confirm Elda's story. Apparently they didn't like what they saw because soon after most of the customers had either fled for home or gone to rent rooms.
"Rolff, it's late and the snows are falling," Luaffyn said. "You should probably head home now."
The Nord looked up and saw they were the last people in the common area. "So?" he slurred. "You can't tell me what to do."
"Are you mad at me?" she asked, sounding hurt. Good, let her. She deserved it.
"Why would I be mad at you?" Rolff countered. "It was nice and peaceful with you gone to your little bard's gathering. I was hoping you'd stay in Solitude."
"You don't mean that," she said gently. She touched his shoulder. "I missed you."
It hadn't looked that way to him. He jerked away from her as he stood unsteadily. "I'm getting more drink."
"I'm not sure Elda is serving any more alcohol tonight," Luaffyn told him.
"She'll take my coin," Rolff sneered. "She always does." He reeled for a moment before falling down. The room spun unpleasantly.
"Elda!" Luaffyn called downstairs. "I need some help up here."
Rolff could hear the patter of Elda's footsteps and her frustrated huff. "Damn fool drank himself stupid again, didn't he?" A pause as Luaffyn must have nodded. "Well, he's out of luck. I'm out of rooms for the night."
"The storm is too strong to help him home," Luaffyn commented thoughtfully.
"I don't know why you bother," Elda sniffed. "He's nothing but a worthless drunk." If Rolff could have opened his eyes, he would have told that Hagraven where she could stick her empty bottles of mead.
"Just help me get him downstairs," Luaffyn replied, ignoring Elda's jab. "I can handle him from there."
The two women picked Rolff up and dragged him to the ground floor. From there Luaffyn looped his arm around her shoulders as she pulled him to a side room. She placed him half on the bed before lighting a single candle.
Rolff lazily watched the shadows dance along the wall as Luaffyn knelt to take his boots off. His gaze ran over the shelves and he noticed this room was a long term residence rental instead of the normal one-nighters. "Where?"
"My room," Luaffyn said simply as she plucked his hat off his head before she sat on the edge of the bed to pull his shirt off.
"What're you doin'?" he mumbled. His top fell to the ground as Luaffyn started to untie his pants. Her hands felt unnaturally hot against his skin. She had helped him stumble home many a time over the years, but this was the first time he could think of that they had touched flesh to flesh. The heat coiled down his waist and settled uncomfortably in his loins.
"You can't sleep in your clothes, Rolff," Luaffyn said matter of factly. She nudged her hand against his hip which he automatically responded to by lifting so she could pull his pants off. She then gathered the discarded clothing and folded them neatly before placing them on her dresser.
Rolff scooted under the furs while her back was turned. Not so much because he was cold, but because of how strained his smalls were. It had been a long time since anyone had touched him and almost longer since he was in someone's bed. Not that anything was going to happen. Luaffyn would probably make a cot on the floor to sleep on and he would have to argue with her on letting him sleep there instead of her since she was a woman and all.
"Hm, what's this?" Luaffyn paused and picked up something from the floor. It was the silver necklace Rolff had bought. It must have fallen out of his pants when she was folding them. The metal glimmered like moonlight in the dim room.
"That's mine," Rolff protested, stammering. He tried to reach for the offending piece of jewelry, but Luaffyn was slightly out of arm's reach. He blushed, looking away in frustration. "I mean, I bought it for you, but you already have a necklace."
"It's lovely," Luaffyn said quietly. "I love it." She glanced at Rolff. "I assume you're still giving it to me?"
"I don't need any damn necklace," he grumbled, watching his hands intently.
The bard took off the Amulet of Mara and placed it on her night stand before putting on the chain. Although it was a much more simple design, the silver necklace was a white contrast against her dark skin that complimented her much more than the golden amulet.
"Thank you, Rolff," she said lowly. Her long, delicate fingers briefly touched his face, making him look up at her. "Let's go to bed now."
The single candle didn't provide much light, but he could still see her silhouette clearly. Shadows were splayed across Luaffyn's face as she reached up and untied the back of her dress. The cloth fell to the ground with barely a whisper. Rolff stared at her body, mesmerized by the white cloth of her smalls against the dark coloring of her skin.
"I can't sleep in my clothes either," she chuckled to his unspoken question. When she reached behind her back and untied her breast band, Rolff quickly looked away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the scrap of cloth flutter to the ground as the bard climbed into the bed with him.
Her hands settled on his chest, playing with his body hair. "Rolff," she whispered gently as she touched his chin, making him look back at her. Her eyes glittered like garnets in the candlelight. Her lips, a slightly darker red, were full and pouty. "If you want me to stop, just say the word and I will."
The Dunmer leaned forward and kissed him tentatively. When he didn't push her away, her tongue darted past his lips. Her warm moisture felt good in his dry mouth. Rolff half whimpered and half moaned as her fingers entangled in his.
If he closed his eyes, he wouldn't see her unnatural red eyes or her blue-black skin. If he closed his eyes, Luaffyn would feel like any other woman. She would be soft and warm in all the right places. The touch of her hands and the taste of her lips were no different than a Nord woman's.
The heat of her body was much higher and there was a slight musky smell about that that wasn't disagreeable, but not Nord. All he had to do was close his eyes and pretend.
But he didn't.
And he didn't say 'stop' either.
This is my entry for the GamingLoveInterests group on Deviant Art for the contest - Secondary Characters Need Love too. I felt it was time to hook up Rolff and Luaffyn. I admit I never imagined this sort of story when I first started writing, but I really enjoyed it and I hope you did too. =)
