Disclaimer: Bethesda owns everything Morrowind related but for my original characters (Lomé and Khan)
Author's note: This story is written in the words of the main characters; they are talking the reader through what has happened to them. Keep in mind that while Lomé (pronounced 'Lomeh') is a Dunmer and therefore speaks clearly, Khan is a Khajiitt. His accent therefore is very strong and I have written him as such. He speaks phonetically, often explaining what he means after he has actually said it, so be patient with him and simply read what you see. It'll come to you I promise. Each chapter will switch from one point of view to the other, embellishing the story as it goes along. One final note, this story obviously contains a homosexual relationship and will deal with the implications of this i.e.; being in Morrowind where such things are taboo, for the characters as it progresses. If such things are not to your taste please don't flame me, simply click the little back button and find something else to read.
Setting the scene:
Khajiitt and Dunmer have always been at logger heads. Slavery is still rife all over the Island, especially in the south west where Orvas Dren keeps the lush Ascadian Isles in a constant state of flux. From the early year planting to the Corkbulb harvest in the summer months the slaves are never at a lack for work. Those lucky enough to have financial means, like Joshaba in Balmora, often make the shiftiest business men; terrified that if they go bankrupt they will end up enslaved like their kin. As a consequence the relations are soured further by dodgy dealings between small time vendors and the Great Houses; particularly House Hlaalu- Dren's House. As Khajiitt and Dunmer face off over the rippling waters of the Odai, Joshaba kicks a large rat out of his store room, beats it to death with a broom handle and prepares the meat for a late night snack. He hopes his benefactor Ra'Virr does not notice the blood on the carpet.
Lomé
Every nerve in my body screamed at me to take up arms against whatever it was that was padding its way towards my bleeding broken body, but honestly I couldn't move for fear… Eyes…smouldering amber eyes watched me with naked curiosity…my hand itched to grasp Keening but without wearing Wraithguard I would easily be killed by the wards on the blade and I hadn't the wherewithal the make the hasty retrieval of it my stalker's proximity demanded. Then I saw him, the Tiger that stepped so softly from the blackness…not a beast by any means, a Khajiitt. As he ambled out of the shadows my weary eyes took him in quickly, assessing the danger; he looked enormous by my reckoning, the average Dunmer measuring about five foot four he must have topped six foot three and where his leather jerkin didn't cover his arms and chest I could clearly make out the body of a hunter. His tail was looping in slow motion behind him and I heard him take a deep breath to test the air surrounding us, letting it out with a low chuff and a shake of the head as if what he had sampled displeased him. The most reassuring fact I noted about him was that his claws where sheathed…I know very little of Jiitt culture but the first thing I was advised to do by the locals was to look for the claws. If you can see them be prepared to defend yourself…if not… pray that you're a good judge of character and that the Jiitt you are with means no harm.
Khajiitt are a much victimised race, enslaved all over Morrowind. I remember clearly freeing a group of slaves from the Dren Plantation…and then it hit me…so that's where I know that face from…that kindly young face, Gods he cant be much older than my meagre years, despite his stature…I never knew his name, though I gave him mine before he bolted…he was a copper speck before I could blink he moved so fast with such agility…My musings were halted as a bolt of searing pain screamed through my shoulder. I know he saw me grimace and bite back a curse with clenched teeth; he winced as if feeling the pain himself and low and behold, began to purr…a reassurance that he was no threat…so he did know me after all…a Jiitt his size could tear me in two in this condition. He surely had a foot on me in height when I freed him; he was crouched at first and I almost fell over for shock when he finally stood, looked me over one last time and high tailed it out of the Dren's grounds…
As I fought not to bend to the temptation to scream out my pain before this magnificent Jiitt I felt rather than heard him move, a whisper on the air as he stepped gingerly closer, amber eyes darting between my now clenched fists and Sunder…so he thought I might strike him…caution is a by word for Khajiitt, never sure if a wounded man or animal is a trap waiting to be sprung. With a great effort I managed to kick both Wraithguard and Sunder away from me, Keening jolting at my hip in its sheath with the movement. One of his strong feline paws moved back the step he had taken forward at my outburst only to be replaced firmly in the print he left in the cool slick mud the moment before. He closed a little more distance between us, walking through the tributary that separated us until he was close enough so I could feel the heat from his fur by my side. He again gingerly lifted his right paw, raising it and stretching an arm out towards me, the fur covering its back barely brushing my cheek…another Jiitt assurance of friendship and brotherhood. At this I tried to smile but it felt and judging by his reaction looked more like a very much pained grimace for he was closer still in an instant settling next to me and reaching into a pouch at his belt for something. He produced what turned out to be a healing draught, stronger than those I had with me by far; he uncorked it carefully and again raised a paw. After a moment to reassure myself that had he wanted me dead he'd have ripped me apart rather than tried to poison me I made the barest nod to which he carefully slipped his raised paw beneath my chin, supporting me as I sipped the pre-offered potion.
My eyes closed in bliss as its heat washed over me; it wasn't nearly strong enough to heal all of my wounds but it was enough to lessen the pain and mend the ribs I had suspected were cracked. Seeing my reaction I heard his purr deepen into what could be compared to the soft rumble of distant thunder. It had a strangely comforting effect on me and I barely flinched when he left his claws out a little to cut away the last of the cuirass that had plagued me, the only whimper of shock elicited hushed by his soft; "Sshhhh…s'alright Sera" If molten silk had a voice it would sound as he did and I sagged with relief at the loss of the cursed weight on my wounded back and shoulders having to choke back a sob of "…thank you so much…" I felt him again use a majestic paw to lift my chin, his thumb wiping a tear from my cheek and raising my eyes to his.
As he spoke I felt myself lighten further, though I had to listen hard to hear past his accent. He introduced himself as Khan, indeed one of the slaves I had freed from Dren's clutches. As he told it, he had built himself a home by the Odai and suggested we try to move back there so he could tend to the rest of my ills in peace and quiet. I nodded slowly to this request fatigue catching up with me quickly. I noticed that when he did touch me, just under the chin and on my cheek, he came nowhere near the weepings that caked me in blight…deadly to him I realised. I moved away from him citing the need to clean myself thoroughly for his safety as my reasoning and was rewarded by a heartfelt smile and soft words of comfort from the man who seemed to be my saviour. Though not immune to blight completely, Khan turned out to be quite the alchemist; the potion he provided for me was one of his own and he also knew a recipe repel blight disease on contact. Hearted about the situation further I did not try and move away as he helped me cleanse my skin of the blight taint.
I could hear him as he helped me wash my broken skin, murmuring softly in what must have been Ta'Agra the Khajiitt tongue…every time I whimpered or cursed he would gentle his touch still, even when it was mine that caused the pain…he had coated his soft paws in the same blight repelling recipe he had told me of a moment before and was systematically dissolving the weepings from my skin leaving behind nothing more than what I was born with. He was in no way affected by them, though erring on cautions side and after I was completely clean he emptied a phial of the same formula he used to wash me into his mouth and swallowed soundlessly, catching himself before he gagged at the taste and chuckling with me over what we could compare that taste to.