Chapter 17

Rioghnan wasn't quite sure he felt right eating a meal paid for by some unwitting stranger, and had been making his case against it as Nilsie strode purposefully toward the Grandmaster's Platter, until he caught sight of a recently familiar redhead making her way into the establishment along with several other mer. Suddenly his feelings of uncertainty ceased to matter and he practically dragged Nilsie to the entrance.

"Hello, Miss Travyn! And is this Amaire's son?" A middle aged Dunmer server greeted them with a smile. "Oh my. You're so much taller than you were the last time she brought you round! Tell her she must visit more often!"

Rioghnan nodded in agreement and followed her to a table for two, all the while covertly scanning the room for the redheaded Altmer girl. He spotted her in profile, settling into her chair a few tables away, with a large party comprised of the mages who were performing earlier. She reached back and draped her long hair over the back of the chair. Abruptly, he realized that Nilsie was pounding her fist on the table and calling his name.

"Aye, what?" He quickly turned to her, a strange, hot sensation flashing over his face.

"Why are you so obsessed with those stupid outlanders?" Nilsie scoffed. "She's asking you what you want to drink…" She simultaneously rolled her eyes and motioned to the other side of the table, where the server stood smiling expectantly.

"Er – I'll have some tea." He wasn't sure he actually wanted tea but it was the first thing that came to mind. He battled the urge to immediately seek out the Altmer girl again, instead trying to focus on Nilsie, but gazing at the redhead was oddly enjoyable and he silently wished he could just sit there and stare. Nilsie wasn't boring, of course - he liked Nilsie very much - but she was so …available. The Altmer girl was tantalizing in an untouchable, mysterious way that made his heart pound in his ears whenever he looked at her. He made sure to continue to engage Nilsie in conversation but at every possible opportunity, his eyes would almost automatically dart over to the table of mages - until he noticed that someone else was staring back: the old, white-haired elf. His stare seemed intentionally intimidating. He was so brazen about it; as if he was actually willingRioghnan to take notice; to sense the burden of his scrutiny. It made the hair stand up on the back of his neck, and all he could think of were his mother's repeated warnings about the dangers of magic and how it stole his father from her. He'd always found magic and mages fascinating but the knowledge that they and their art could be deadly was ever-present in his thoughts. Rioghnan immediately turned his focus back to Nilsie and fought the urge to look again with all his might. Even so, his eyes inevitably scanned the room and he noted that the old mer was usually still glancing his way, if not outright gaping.

Part of him was genuinely afraid of the intent behind this display, but another part was not slightly incensed at the apparently purposeful intimidation. What did this fucking decrepit fool want with him? A fight? A chance to pass some sort of condescending judgment? Why? Could he somehow sense that his fellow High Elf had no magical education or abilities to speak of and found the idea insufferable?

"Oi! I ain't sittin' here with you if all you're going to do is look at those fuckin' n'wahs over there. I'll just go sit someplace else then." Nilsie spoke up, tossing her napkin onto the table with obvious irritation.

"No; don't go. I don't mean to. I just keep looking 'cos that old git won't stop staring at me. I don't like it." Rioghnan explained. Although, of course, it wasn't the whole truth. It was enough to dispel Nilsie's anger, however.

"Which one?" Her eyes narrowed as she studied the other table. "Ah… I see him."

As soon as the old mer detected a second observer, he averted his eyes and made a big show of being involved in the conversation at his own table.

"Pshhh. Best look away, aye. Scum," Nilsie muttered.

"He's been looking since we saw them in the street. I've no idea what his problem is – I've never seen him before in me life."

"Fuckin' n'wah probably likes little boys. Disgusting!"

"What?" Rioghnan was genuinely confused.

"Your mum hasn't told you, I reckon. You have to be careful - some grown folks like to do nasty things to children. My father's told me about the sorts of things they do. Showing you their nethers and trying to get into your pants; that sort of thing. It's quite dreadful."

Rioghnan made a face at the mental image that Nilsie's description had unwittingly created. "Ugh. If he tried that, I'd give him a proper kicking."

"I'd help," Nilsie added. "I'll kick him straight in the bollocks!"

"I'll stomp on his face."

"I'll fart on his face!"

"I'll fart right in his mouth," Rioghnan countered with a grin.

They dissolved into fits of giggling.

After exchanging the pilfered gold for their meals, Nilsie accompanied Rioghnan as he made his way back to his flat. He was determined to be on time in the hopes of maintaining his newfound freedom. As they rounded the corner to his particular alleyway, however, something malodorous struck Rioghnan's shoulder, and he looked down, a bit shaken, to see a rotten ash yam lying at his feet. Nilsie barely had time to frown in confusion at the offending vegetable before another one pelted her in the thigh. Their eyes met in an instant of understanding before Nilsie growled, "Fetchers!"

Several familiar Dunmer youths spilled out from between two apartment buildings, wielding fistfuls of refuse, and immediately commenced to hurl it all at the pair, laughing and shouting a variety of colorful insults.

Rioghnan was prepared to return fire with the same ammunition, until he looked over and saw Nilsie clutching her eye, a bit of crimson oozing between her fingers. He grasped her shoulders and spun her toward him, bending down to get a closer look at her injury.

"They hit me in the eye," she whispered, her voice just beginning to waver.

Gales of contemptuous laughter burst forth from their aggressors and echoed in Rioghnan's ears.

"Oh look, she's hurt!"

"Good - filthy whore!"

"Are you crying, Nilsie?"

"Too bad nobody'll defend you anymore!"

"Watch him run home to Mummy."

Riognan turned, his gaze meeting the laughing eyes of the largest Dunmer boy, who appeared to be leading the group, and in an instant, the resentment he'd been harboring for so long exploded. He promptly lunged forward and tackled the Dark Elf boy to the ground, fiercely digging the nails of one spindly hand into the grey skin of the boy's face and bashing the back of his head against the cobblestone walkway over and over. Any rational thought he'd had before this moment was now obliterated by a singular resolve to utterly annihilate these mer. The others encircled Rioghnan and rained blows upon him from every side. Releasing the first youth's face, he blindly lashed out at his assailants, viciously grasping handfuls of hair and fabric and flesh, trying to do as much damage as he possibly could to anything he caught. He managed to knock a couple down, but the rest had already overtaken him and continued to beat him relentlessly. He silently committed to continue to fight as long as he remained conscious, but he was well aware that this would not end in his favor. And then, all at once, every one of the Dark Elves suddenly just …froze. Their eyes widened into expressions of panic as they became aware of their predicament, and a few tried to continue the altercation, but their movements were reduced to the point of uselessness, as if they were attempting to swing their limbs through dense mud. Rioghnan took a moment to absorb this unexpected development, still reeling from the thrashing he'd just endured. The pain had only served to fuel his wrath, however, and he soon hauled himself to his feet, towering above the nearly paralyzed Dunmer teenagers, who were now endeavoring to escape, ever so deliberately. Seizing them two at a time by their throats, he flung them backward onto the walkway, administering a solid heel in the guts to each in turn with his shiny new netch leather boots.

He spat at them as they lay slowly writhing on their backs, and then he snarled through his teeth, in a voice so full of hatred it nearly scared him, "Next time, you all die."

As he turned to hobble away, Nilsie rushed to his side, wrapping her flimsy arms around him as if she could somehow keep him upright in spite of their notable size difference. Blood trickled down her cheek from a nasty scrape under her eye, but Rioghnan was relieved to see that she was otherwise alright.