Chapter Two: On Shaky Terms

Hulgar awoke to the sound of song birds and gentle breezes. He slowly opened his eyes and stared up at a wooden ceiling. I'm safe, he thought to himself. He didn't remember what happened last night or how he got there, but he didn't feel any pain from his wounds that the Thalmor had inflicted onto him but he was just thankful to still be breathing. With a groan of pain and stiff muscles, he slowly sat up on the wooden table, his bare feet almost touching the floor.

He scanned the room with his dark plum eyes, not seeing the resident of the house. At first he thought that maybe it was abandoned but the crackle of a dim of fire in the hearth quickly threw out that thought. With a twinge of pain from his stiff muscles, he slid off of the table and stretched out. A few bones popped in his back, arms and legs but he let out a sigh of relief, smiling slightly. The bright morning sun was shining in through the open window. The smell of damp grass and rain was still heavy in the gentle breeze but he was just glad to see the sun again.

But the smell of past storms and fresh greenery wasn't the only thing floating on the soft wind. Hulgar's ears also picked up the beautiful sound of someone singing. He didn't know who it was or what the song was, but he was certain it was the person who saved him last night. A smile crept across his face when he pictured a strong, beautiful Nord that matched the sweet words floating on the breeze. I mean, who else would be out here in these cold plains but a lonely Nord woman. A small fire was ignited inside him when he thought of how he and the lonely Nord savior could make these cold plains hot.

As he stood by the table in his fantasies, he didn't realize that his "Nord savior" was coming towards the open window, her singing growing louder as she neared the window. It wasn't her soft smile that broke him out of his reverie; it was the soft fur that covered her face and body. A look of disgust and horror covered his face when he realized a thieving, skooma sucking cat had saved him. She either didn't notice his look or just flat out ignored it as she waved at him and leaned into the windowsill.

"Welcome to you, stranger," She said softly to him in her strange accent. She must be straight out of Elsweyr, Hulgar thought. But why was she so far north? Most Khajiit that come to Skyrim either stay to the roads or to the provincial borders, not on the hold border of Whiterun and Eastmarch. It must have clicked to her that Hulgar wasn't very pleased to have been saved by a Khajiit. "I know I wasn't what you were expecting, but a thank you would be appreciated." She said smoothly to him, her sharp chin tilted up with pride. A slight smile tweaked the corners of his long, thin lips but he only nodded and said abruptly, "Thanks."

Anjaarra knew she wasn't going to get anything more than that and she sighed quietly. That was the one thing she hated about Nords: their mistrust of the Khajiit peoples. But for some, they do have reason to. Still leaning into the window, she pointed out at a cabinet with her furry brown fingers, the tips of them a warm, rusty red color.

"If you go in there, you'll find some bread and mammoth cheese. Feel free to eat some," She said to him, trying to sound as friendly as she could, though she knew her kindness was falling onto deaf ears. The man only nodded his thanks again before he walked over to the cabinet. She watched with her bright orange eyes as he pulled out a loaf of bread, watching with curiosity and a bit of disgust as he tore into the bread like a hungry animal. He mustn't have eaten for days if he was that hungry, but then, Anjaarra knew that she would eat like that, too, if she let herself.

The Nord ate the whole loaf of bread in a matter of a few minutes, his tongue licking at the flaky crumbs that had been left behind. With his appetite somewhat fed, he looked back at Anjaarra who looked at him with hungry eyes. Panic pumped through his heart for a second as Hulgar thought that the walking carpet was going to lunge at him, but he realized that she was staring at the few loaves of bread in the cabinet. His heart sank slightly in pity as he realized that the Khajiit had very little but she still gave him what she could afford. He looked at her for a split second with an apologetic look before the harsh look of disgust came back to his face.

"Anything to drink?" He asked her. She nodded and pointed at a cupboard above the sink.

"I got some Black-Briar Mead in there. Go ahead and take the whole bottle," She told the Nord. His face lit up at the name. Black-Briar Mead was the best in all of Skyrim and no mead came close to besting it. Well, except for that Honningbrew place but they had a skeever infestation or something. With his annoyingly thankful nod, Hulgar went to the cupboard and opened it. There was only three bottles inside and there was only one that wasn't opened. With another brief tang of pity, he grabbed the mead and opened it, taking a long pull from it. With a sigh of relief, he pulled his lips back, smiling slightly. And still the Khajiit watched him with curious eyes. He cleared his throat slightly, realizing the awkwardness that filled the silent air.

"So, um, thanks, again…" He said in a somewhat ashamed tone. He had saved her from the Nords most hated enemy but he still treated her like she was less than mammoth patty. This time it was her turn to nod. Hulgar felt his pale cheeks flush slightly, thinking of how she probably thought he was a jerk and an ungrateful one at that. He glanced around the small cabin, noting the one bed shoved into a corner and the bare shelves that adorned the walls. No cobwebs or dust, though, which meant she kept herself busy cleaning.

"What's your name?" The Khajiit asked quietly, her strange accent rolling over her lips like a leaf rolling over a stone road. The Nord took a swig from the bottle of Black-Briar before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and answering her question.

"I'm Hulgar. You?" He responded, noticing her tail flicking back and forth behind her in a relaxed fashion. It made him smile slightly and think of his grandmother's house cat.

"My name is Anjaarra," She purred, a small smile playing at her feline lips. After hearing her name, Hulgar knew that she wasn't born here in Skyrim. If she had been, there would've been some sort of influence from the Nordic culture in her name but there was obviously no trace of that in such a foreign name as that.

"Anjaarra? Hmm…" The way her name rolled over his tongue felt odd, as if he was speaking some ancient language. But the sounds of her name had made the Khajiit smile wider and nod her head again.

"Yes, it means 'Moon Flower' in the ancient Khajiit tongue." Hulgar nodded, smiling inwardly at his correct assumption of speaking ancient languages. The cat continued to speak, as if more to herself than to the Nord. "My mother used to tell me stories all the time about the ancient Khajiit who traveled all over N'Quin Al Desert in search of this flower, for it was told that it came from the gods of the moons. And these godly gifts gave the ancients an endless supply of moon sugar as the flowers seemed to cry with it." Her eyes had glazed over as she told the story and Hulgar found himself intrigued with the tale.

"Is the plant real?" He asked with a second thought. Her ears flicked with slight surprise at the question but Anjaarra smiled sadly and shook her head.

"No. Mother told me that all the flowers had been picked and if not replanted after seven days, the moon flowers cry poison, killing not only the users of the moon sugar, but the plant itself. So, through their greed and ignorance, the ancients had destroyed all of the moon flowers, not allowing their future cubs to have a taste from the gods' gift." Her eyes flicked down towards the floor at the sad tale, a gentle sigh slipping through her lips. Uncertain of what else to do, Hulgar silently drank some more of the Black-Briar, both of them quiet for several minutes.

Hulgar looked up at Anjaarra to say something but a sudden crack of a whip diverted both of their attentions to the road. Turning her head, the cat woman saw a wagon down the road always, but the cracks from the brittle whip carried in the gentle wind. Hulgar had moved cautiously to look out the window, spotting the wagon as well. It was being pulled by two young but large horses, their wheat colored coats seeming to glisten in the cold air of the plains. But it was the creatures sitting in the wagon that brought the cold back into the air. Three Thalmor sat in the wagon, one sitting on the bench attached to the front of it while the other two sat in the back. Anjaarra looked back through the window to say something to Hulgar but he had disappeared.

Her eyes narrowed slightly and she stood up straight as the Thalmor wagon continued its slow stroll down the road. She picked up the hoe she leaned against her wooden shed that held a few other gardening tools and went back to tilling her small garden plot. With her orange eyes as bright as a torch, Anjaarra glanced nervously at the still approaching trio of elves, hoping they would pass without a word. But of course, that almost never happens and the wagon slowed down as it started to pass the Khajiit's property.

"Greetings, citizen." Said the driving Thalmor. He looked like any another Thalmor; he had long, practically sun gold hair. His features were sharp and narrow; his high cheekbones looked like cliffs sticking out of his rather perfect, golden-skinned face. The way he held his head up gave him an air of superiority, which Anjaarra hated. The other two Thalmor looked almost identical to him, looking at the Khajiit from the back of the wagon. They wore the usual robes of the Justiciars, making the hairs on the back of her eyes prick up slightly. They only sent them out when they were looking for someone.

"Good morning, sir." Anjaarra straightened up slightly to curtsey at the driver before leaning some of her weight onto the hoe. "What brings the Empire's lovely patrolmen to my door?" She asked, trying to keep the fear and annoyance out of her voice. One of the Thalmor riding in the back of the wagon whispered quietly to the driver, but even if he spoke loud enough for Anjaarra to hear, she wouldn't have understood a word of it; the elf spoke in Altmer. She watched as the driver did a silent nod at the whispering man before slowly sliding off the bench, pushing his black cloak behind him.

"We had word that a man, a Nord man at that, escaped the hands of the Riften guards and he was last seen in these parts." The Thalmor talked slowly but his words seemed to be attractive, almost seductive. Anjaarra flicked her ears as if to flick away the thoughts. Either not noticing or not caring about the motion, the driver continued as he began to lean against the wooden fencing. "He's a Talos worshipper and as such, he must be taken into custody. A simple woman such as yourself should realize this." A smirk crossed the dark golden lips of the Thalmor at his last few words. Anjaarra's orange eyes narrowed slightly, not taking kindly to the way the high elf talked to her. But there wasn't much she could do about that being a second class citizen and all.

"I haven't such a man around here. Only been myself and until recently, the storm. But it seems like it left knowing that you were coming around." It was Anjaarra's turn to smirk as the crisp golden brown eyes glared at her, one of the Justiciars grabbed for his bow. The other Thalmor in the wagon stopped, talking in a harsh, quiet tone to him in the Altmer language. The Khajiit looked at the elf leaning on her fence as he roughly kicked down a post.

"Hey!" She shouted at him, baring her teeth and flattening her ears back. The Thalmor only smirked, the royal air about him turning into the stink of a disgusting tyrant. The other two Thalmor stood and watched from the wagon, both of them with a devilish smirk on their faces. The Justiciar who kicked down the fence post kicked down another until he could walk through the gap in the fence.

"I'm sure a lowlife can gain back the Septims for that after you share your bed with a man or two." The smirk never left his face as he walked over to Anjaarra, rage and fear swirling around her eyes like a storm. Her body was tensing and her tail flicked angrily behind her. The anger was quickly replaced by even stronger fear as the Thalmor before her pulled out an elven dagger, the tip of the blade pressed against her throat. She swallowed nervously as the high elf glared down at her with impatience.

"Now I know you must have seen this man. His tracks lead practically to your door and there isn't anything around here for miles that could've sheltered him." The elf seemed to whisper harshly through his gritted teeth. The Khajiit at the end of his blade squirmed nervously, her molten orange eyes staring up at pleadingly.

"P-please… I swear I haven't seen…" Anjaarra began to stammer but a sudden yelp of a surprise and pain diverted both her and the Justiciar's attention to the Thalmor on the wagon behind them. Or more of, the two dead Thalmor on the wagon. Both of their bodies lay over the railing, their dark crimson blood almost having a golden tinge to it as it spilt onto the stone cold road.

Before the Thalmor in front of her could do anything, Anjaarra took the hoe in both of her hands and swung it around hard towards him. She stumbled back as the elf had heard the movement and ducked, lunging forward to stab the Khajiit. But the blade didn't find its home in her flesh. With the grace of a dancer, the cat-woman quickly leapt out of the way and wacked at his hand with the end of the hoe. The stiff wooden handle slammed down hard against the Thalmor's wrist, making him yelp and cringe in pain, but the elven dagger was still held tight in his hand as Anjaarra quickly jumped back a few paces.

With a quickness and agility that almost matched the Khajiit's, the Thalmor was quickly back on his feet. The dagger was held at the ready at his side as Anjaarra wielded the hoe like sword, her furry fingers wrapped around it tight. If there was no fur to cover her hands, she was sure that her knuckles would be snow white with the grip that she had on the gardening tool. With a short shout, the Justiciar lunged forward again but the flat end of the hoe slammed into his chest, knocking the wind out of the high elf as he flew back and landed onto the hard earth.

He gasped and sputtered like a fish out of water as he tried to sit up. His dagger had skittered a few feet away from him and Anjaarra had already ran to it to retrieve it. With an airless shout, the Thalmor tried to reach for the blade, but his efforts were in vain as an iron dagger was shoved into the base of his neck. Anjaarra scooped up the elven dagger and turned to face the Thalmor, only to see the golden light in his eyes slowly darken as his gold-crimson blood trickled out of his nose and blood. Hulgar hovered over him, his chest heaving in and out quickly from the excursion of the short battle. With a shaky look, Hulgar looked up at Anjaarra, the horrified look on her face still somewhat present but relief was slowly taking over.

Why wasn't she throwing up at the first sight of the dead man, Hulgar thought. Almost everyone he knew had vomited after seeing their first death. But this Khajiit didn't do that, didn't even look away for that matter. There was more to her than a lonely cabin and a furry face. With a long breath, the Nord calmed down his breathing and straightened out his torn tunic before extending his hand.

"Let's a make a truce." He said to the Khajiit, who only looked at him in confusion.

"A truce? What for?" She asked him, an ear perked up curiously. Again, another fond memory of his grandmother's house cat skipped across his eyes before he spoke.

"I promise I'll watch your back if you help me get out of Skyrim." He told her coolly, even though the air was cool enough. Anjaarra continued to stare at him for a moment longer before her orange eyes looked around at the dead bodies. She knew that there was probably already a new squad of Justiciars on their way and it was only a matter of time before they got to her cabin. With a heavy sigh, she took the hand and shook it.

"It doesn't look like I have much of a choice, anyway…" She muttered quietly to herself.