I want to take a moment to thank those of you who are retuning to the story, and welcome newcomers! I hope you enjoy the tale, and if you do, I would love to know! I respect all constructive criticisms, but if you are just going to be a troll, well, Laurelin will set you on fire! But really, I work hard on this and welcome positive input. Thanks again! ~PyreIris
Chapter Two –Surprises and Negotiations
Vilkas woke early, vaguely unpleasant dreams having kept him from sleeping later. His limbs pleasantly interlaced with Laurelin's, though, he stared at the ceiling a few moments, quietly reviewing his mental lists. Coming to a few easy decisions, he slowly untangled himself from his love, trying not to wake her. As he slid off the bed, she clutched at his shoulder, then grabbed a pillow, burying her face into it with a grumble and going back to sleep.
He pulled on a fresh tunic and trousers, then grabbed his boots to put on once outside. Shouldering his pack, he slipped out the door, boots in hand. He walked downstairs, ordered a quick breakfast, and chatted amiably with the innkeeper. His food came before he was done lacing his boots. A quarter of an hour later, he was striding toward the city gates and down the hill. With a little luck, he could conduct his business and be back in time to wake her up with breakfast.
Laurelin yawned as a heavy weight slid onto the bed with her, accompanied by the delicious scent of food near her nose. Stomach growling immediately, she palmed the sleep from her eyes as she stretched languorously in the silky-smooth sheets.
"Morning, love. Here, I brought you something to break your fast," His voice said softly. She rolled over finally and pushed herself up on her elbows to see what he had brought.
"Mmm, is that fresh beef heart? Darling, you're too kind!" She picked up a slice of the raw meat, sniffing it, "Very fresh. Really, love, you didn't have to go to such measures. I'm fine with cooked food, really." She tore into her plate with gusto nevertheless.
Vilkas let her eat; and when she had finished breaking her fast, he took the plate and set it aside, asking as he did, "So what supplies are we low on? I've already restocked a few things, but maybe you need items I don't know about."
"I'm a little low on arrows. Darn things just disappear it seems, never can find them all. Other than that I'm still well stocked. I do want to go up to the Blue Palace and talk to the steward there. I'd like to get some more jobs lined up for the Companions while we're up here. Never hurts to be in sweet and cozy with the high and mighty." She rolled into his arms, sliding her bare thigh up over his. "How about yourself, need anything else while we're up here?"
He seemed a bit smug about something as he replied with a small smile, "Already taken care of, love. Do you want to sell any of that junk you picked up in the temple yesterday?"
"Probably should. We can do that on the way up to the Blue Palace, aye?" She leaped from bed, drawing Vilkas's eye to her sinewy curves, gloriously lit by the sunlight filtering in through the windows.
He rose from the bed and advanced on her with a gleam in his silver eyes. "How much of a hurry are you in to get to Ustengrav?"
She looked up from the loincloth she was untangling from her tunic-how had that happened? "Pardon?" she managed to get out before he scooped her into his arms. She fought back halfheartedly but ended up on the bed regardless, with the loincloth looped around her wrists, binding them. He had a firm grip on the bands of cloth, holding her down while his lips traced searing kisses down her throat and over her collarbone. "Not terribly, I was thinking after...lunch!" she moaned, straining to free her hands. He rumbled a happy assent; after lunch sounded fine to him.
By the time Laure and Vilkas finally made it out of the Winking Skeever, it was early afternoon. They were dressed in matching armor, carefully cleaned and polished. No amount of polish could buff out the many scratches and dings in the fine metal, however. Not that they were concerned about it too much. It was hard to take a warrior seriously when the armor he or she wore was pristine. Something about armor that didn't have a fine patina of tarnished scratches subtly spoke against experience in battle.
So it was, that after a few quick stops to sell junk and buy arrows, they presented themselves to the guards at the Blue Palace. The man before them regarded them with only moderate interest, his blue eyes flicking over their gear and weapons before asking, "Your business in the Palace is...?"
"We are here to inquire about employment. I understand the steward is the man I need to speak to." Laurelin smiled in a friendly manner.
The guard nodded. "Aye, Falk Firebeard is the man you need. He'll be up the stairs. I just need your names, please."
"I am Laurelin Vo'Shai, and this is Vilkas of the Companions."
The guard grunted his recognition and scribbled their names into a small ledger. "I've heard of you. Kodlak White-Mane is in a better place, but I'm sorry for your loss. Have you a new Harbinger yet?"
Laure sobered a bit, biting her lip. How would this man react to her being the Harbinger? Several people in Whiterun had scoffed at the notion that a female mer had ascended to the seat of adviser to the Companions. Apparently it was scandalous to some that an elf led the order that had helped purge Skyrim of the mer in the first place.
Vilkas noticed her hesitance and stepped forward, speaking up for the first time, "You have the honor of addressing the Harbinger of the Companions herself. Kodlak White-Mane chose her himself, and passed on his position to her after passing over other, less worthy souls." He stood at attention, daring the man to snicker or make a snide comment.
The guard only blinked and straightened up. "An honor, Harbinger. Please allow me go announce you to the jarl." He bowed slightly and ushered them through the doors, then leaped the stairs two at a time ahead of Laure and Vilkas.
Raising her eyebrows to Vilkas and mouthing, "Thank you," silently, she slowed her normally quick steps to allow the guard time to announce them. They came to the top and saw that Jarl Elisif's throne was empty, but several important looking, well-dressed nobles loitered about. And there in a corner, sprawled in a wooden chair, was a man Laurelin had hoped to never encounter again.
She stiffened slightly, her chin lifting as she glared at the finely turned-out Nord with mousy, graying hair. Vilkas noted her change in posture, scent, and-mercy! He had never seen her look so much like she wanted to tie someone up with their own guts! Instinctively, he stepped closer to her, hand almost drifting up to the haft of his greatsword.
Before things could get ugly or Vilkas could work out why she was suddenly hostile, a smiling man who could only be Falk Firebeard stepped up, palms extended in greeting.
He bowed deeply to Vilkas, saying, "Welcome to our fair city, Harbinger; it is an honor to have you here."
"I'm sure she would be delighted to accept your greetings herself, honored Steward." He gestured to Laurelin, saying, "Harbinger of the Companions, I give you Falk, Steward of the Blue Palace." He pressed back his amusement, fighting the smile which threatened to crack his face watching the big, red-haired man fumble a moment as he sorted out how to recover from his mistake.
"My apologies. I am truly sorry for any slight I may have given. The one who announced you failed to clarify..." he trailed off, darting a plaintive look to Vilkas before bowing to Laurelin. "Harbinger, you have my humble apologies."
"Your apologies are welcome but unneeded; the mistake was an honest one. One I'm sure will be repeated. It is easy to look at Vilkas and see the embodiment of a worthy Companion, aye?"
"How may I assist you today?" Falk queried with another small bow.
"While we were in town, I thought I would take the opportunity to find out if there were any jobs that require the attention of my fellows. I was made to understand there were some problems the Companions might be able to assist you with." Her smile was easy as she spoke, but her gaze kept flashing to the man in the corner, who seemed to have recognized her, and was now scowling into his goblet.
Falk scratched his red whiskers thoughtfully. "Aye, there are a number of bandit camps, some vampires, and reports of some supernatural occurrences filtering in. Would you be interested in such menial tasks?"
"They don't sound menial to my ears. I would like a list, if possible. I can take it back to Jorrvaskr with me and work it into our schedule."
"Ah, usually we would give one task at a time, but since you're the Companions... Follow me, and I'll get you all the information we have." He turned and led them away, still talking.
Laure cast one last threatening glance to the seated nobleman and caught up to Vilkas and Falk Firebeard in two long strides. "Do you have map locations as well? It would be so very helpful."
Laure and Vilkas strolled out of the Blue Palace a while later, thoughtful expressions on both faces. She picked up her pace once they left the courtyard, pausing a moment to admire a tall stone mansion on the way. Though a fine looking structure, it looked empty. Vilkas stood behind her while she gazed up.
"Someday I'm going to buy this house. I just have to convince the jarl to sell it to me somehow."
"Why do you like this house in particular so much?" he asked quietly. It did seem a bit out of character for a Bosmer to want a stone house in a city.
Laure took his big hand in hers and led him around to a small balcony out back. A stone wall with a window looking out over an amphitheater was the only thing of interest back here. "For the music. In the evenings, there are often bards from the College playing out there. This house has its own private box seats. I also love the inside; it has such potential." Her eyes were filled with a slightly dreamy, faraway look, which had Vilkas wondering.
"How do you know what the inside looks like?"
"A friend snuck me in one time. We just looked. It was empty then too, but I still remember the way the light streamed in through the windows and lit the whole place up." She shrugged and turned to the street again. "It's nice to have something to look forward to."
"You seem quite sure you will purchase it someday."
"I am. I have the money, but the jarl hasn't agreed to sell it to anyone. Trust me when I say I'm not the only one who has an eye on Proudspire. I'll figure out a way to buy it, one way or another." She skipped ahead and taunted, "Now if you're all done, can we please finally get on the road. Really, some men just have no sense of urgency! There are tombs we need to pillage!"
Vilkas picked up his pace, ignoring her teasing. His mind had returned to the man she had stared so venomously at. Whatever the reason for her animosity, it was unusual in his experience to see her so pissed to see any one person. Not wanting to spoil her good mood over the successful negotiations with Falk Firebeard, he resolved to ask her later. And now that he thought about it, he had a chance to give her the surprise he'd arranged for earlier. Hopefully she didn't take it the wrong way.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just eat that thing right now, darling?" Laurelin playfully asked her smiling lover. A confused, concerned look crossed Vilkas' face.
"What do you mean? It's a horse! We're not in Valenwood. You can ride her instead of running everywhere." He patted the ebony-black flanks. "She has a beautiful gait and is good on the mountain trails. You'll see."
Laure pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. He really wanted to please her and it was adorable. Running her hands through her hair, she stepped slowly forward, then reached out to gently stroke its soft nose, feel its lips search across her fingers in search of treats.
"Sorry, I don't have anything for you." The big mare pushed her head into Laure's chest, blowing softly through her nose. She looked around the horse's head and arched an eyebrow at Vilkas. "So can you teach me to ride this thing? Or am I teaching you how to cook her?"
"Would she like you if she sensed you were about to filet her up?" he teased. "Looks as though she likes you."
"Probably. When I'm not actively hunting, lots of animals come right up to me. My first horse was painfully dumb. Pretty, but dumb. Pity, you might think a prize stallion like Frost would have a bit of self preservation, but he didn't."
"You had a prize stallion and never learned to ride? That seems odd. Why not?"
"Didn't have the time or inclination. Technically, he wasn't originally mine. I had the papers..."
"I'm listening"
"Papers I stole..." she admitted, inwardly cringing as she said it to him.
"Do, go on."
"I...it wasn't one of my most shining moments, you see. I was hiring myself out to a person of rather dubious nature. There was an argument over the horse, from what I gathered. One of the people involved hired me to obtain the papers and horse for him. The, ah, original owner knew I was working for the other person, though she never approached me afterward for her property. She knew I had the horse and papers, but for some reason she let me keep him. I did do a few jobs for her to make up for it after." Laure noticed his expression growing stormier and tighter.
"Is there a point to this?" he ground out through gritted teeth. He was not pleased to hear this little story.
"Well, long story short, I was trying to find a buyer and was camping beside the road one night on the way back to town. Frost got startled by a fox in the brush, tore his stake free, and bolted off the side of a cliff."
"I see. Let me guess: you ate him?"
"Of course, why waste a bounty like that? Plus I had to get something for my efforts."
"And how did this prize winning horse taste?" he asked sourly, forehead resting on the mare's flank.
Laure grinned wickedly as she stroked the mare's forehead. "Pedigreed."
Vilkas calmed his breathing. From the sound of it, this had happened long ago. It grated on him though to know she was capable of stooping to taking what wasn't hers. Still, not knowing-not wanting to know-the whole story, he decided to put it aside for now. He had never seen her do anything questionable to date and was willing to chalk it up to misjudgment on her part. As long as there were no further instances to deal with.
She was watching him carefully, stroking his "surprise's" long nose. Blowing out his irritation, he asked in a calm voice, "So would you like to learn how to ride? I think you will enjoy it once you do learn."
"Will you catch me if I fall off?"
"You won't fall; I'll be right behind you. Now for you, I think we should start off bare back." He gave her a boost up, then lifted himself up behind her. He gathered the reins in one hand and snagged the lead of his new gelding, pulling him along beside them. Setting a slow pace, they made their way down the road, heading toward Ustengrav.
Once she got over her initial reservations, Laure was able to lean back against Vilkas and enjoy the ride. Their bodies swayed rhythmically together, and Vilkas eventually turned the reins over to her, letting her guide them along. His chestnut gelding followed behind, laden with her saddle and all their travel gear.
For the last few hours, Vilkas had quietly mulled over her reaction to the man in the Blue Palace. Finally, he voiced the question, unsure if she would answer. "That man in the palace, you seemed to know him. Why the hostility?"
She stiffened in his arms, and nearly spat out, "Erikur. He's a slimy bastard without a shred of honor to his name."
"So you know this Erikur how?"
"He's another former employer. After I completed his job, he had me come to his house. Said he'd left his purse at home. Stupid me, I went along with him. Once he had me alone in his house, he plied me with wine, saying he wanted to celebrate with a toast first. I accepted his wine, though I was wary of his suddenly friendly nature. Turned out the wine was drugged. When he thought I was incapacitated, he tried to rape me." She clutched tightly at the reigns, almost pulling her mare to a halt.
"Tried? I take it you evaded him somehow."
"Aye, I just managed to fend him off. If I had drank more of his fucking wine, I might not have been able to. After I got away, and once my head cleared, I returned. I gave him a very pointed, sharp lesson in polite behavior toward women. I trust the scars weren't too deep. If I ever hear of him doing anything similar, I promised to remove his foreskin the first time. The second time, I won't be so merciful." Her voice had taken on a hard edge he had never heard from her, and hoped to never hear again. Her casual mention of mutilating the man's privates, although warranted, was chilling. He was certain she was deadly serious in this.
"Wouldn't it be better to turn him in to the authorities if he did? Not that I'm suggesting he wouldn't deserve your, ah, creative attentions, but to do so would put you on his level."
"I could smear myself in dung and maggots and still be cleaner than that parasite. Besides, you see who's boots he licks, there would be too many opportunities for him to grovel his way out of whatever punishment was given. Don't worry, love, I think he still remembers, and I've not heard any whisper of him acting up. Hopefully, I won't ever need to carry out my promise to him." With that, she snapped the reins, goading the mare into a trot that made conversation difficult. Vilkas leaned back, not sure he was glad she had answered him, content with the silence.
Eventually, his voice broke the quiet between them again, "You don't need to ever worry about such a man trying to take you against your will again. His death would be a work of art by my hands."
"I know, love. Thank you." She pressed herself back against his chest, leaning her head back on his shoulder, nuzzling his chin with her nose. "I'm done with working for witless shit piles anyway. Plus the accommodations are better in Jorrvaskr."
"Dare I say, you seem to have worked for a number of 'witless shit piles' in the past. Why?"
"I didn't know any better. My experiences with human employers was mostly limited to straight mercenary work, or acting as a guide through the wilds. Those people knew better than to fuck with the person who ensured their safety. It wasn't until I started rubbing elbows with the damned upper class that I encountered the real slime." Vilkas grunted his acknowledgment of this.
They were picking their careful way over the marshy hills south of Solitude as the sun was setting. They found a protected hollow and hobbled the horses before setting up camp. Figuring they would be able to make Ustengrav by mid-morning at the latest, they made a small fire to warm themselves, as it looked as though it might snow tonight.
Gazing thoughtfully up at the first few flakes that drifted down, Vilkas mused aloud, "We should think about getting a little tent, keep us warmer and the furs drier."
"If you would like, I have no argument against a tent. Give us a bit more privacy too." She glanced up at him and quietly stated, "I gave you much to think about. Have I broken your trust in me?"
"Laurelin, I won't deny some worry that your past is going to bite us in the arse somehow. But we all do things that, upon later reflection, we wish we could do differently, aye?" She nodded solemnly while he continued. "Just be honest with me, please? It's all I ask of you. I'll even understand if you prefer not to answer something; just don't ever lie to me. I'm not sure I could forgive that so easily." He took her hand in his and kissed her bare knuckles, silver eyes boring into hers.
She nodded wordlessly, silently promising herself she would be as forthcoming as possible in the future. She preferred matters this way anyhow. Lies took so much effort and energy to maintain and never amounted to much in the long run but pain.
They ate in companionable silence until Vilkas cleared his throat before saying into her ear "You will want to give her a name."
"Will 'Supper' work?" Laure retorted quickly.
"Absolutely not. You can't name your horse after a meal."
"How about a specific dish then? Or she's black, I can call her 'Kettle'!"
"Don't mock me, woman! She should have a noble name, like 'Ebony' or 'Sable'."
"Hmmm, pretentious or boring...nope. I like 'Kettle'. She grinned and thew herself back as he swiped at her, catching his arm and directing it around her middle, which he obligingly pulled closer to himself.
"The Harbinger of the Companions and Dragonborn can hardly be known to ride about on a soup pot. Do better than that!"
His lips lowered to hers, almost silencing her snorted reply of, " I can can call her 'Soup'." Vilkas growled and covered her mouth with his hands while she continued talking against his palm, her eyes narrowed in mischief. Vilkas tuned out her teasing names, let his tongue wander to her ear, and soon she wasn't saying anything but his name, breathlessly into his neck.