Kharag grunted in annoyance when he saw the Imperial fall sleep. "Well, at least she's not drunk," he muttered angrily and hefted another log to be sawn.

He just wanted to finish sawing this one, then he'll go eat the stew. Hopefully, there was something left for him. He was promised food after all.

At first glance, this woman seemed so different from Hjorunn. She worked hard, without pause, even if her own home suffered for it. She just did her job. Now, though… Kharag wondered if his first impression was wrong. Time will tell if she'll become another Hjorunn or not. He only prayed she wouldn't be worse. After all, now he was not a partner in this business, but a common worker. He didn't even have that flimsy protection.

His work done, Kharag wiped his dirty hands on the equally dirty shirt and went to check what was left in the pot. The Imperial didn't even stir when he took the almost full pot into his hands and sat down on the crates next to her.

At least she left him enough food. More than enough, actually. He put a spoonful into his mouth. It wasn't half-bad, either. Hmm, maybe he'll take care of the wood cutting and sawing while she cooked and took care of the mill. Would be more than Hjorunn ever did.

He took a good look at her sleeping face. Nice features, like most Imperials. Drawn and tired, with dark rings under her eyes. He gave her shoulder a gentle nudge to wake her up but got no response. He frowned.

"Hey, you awake?" he asked her in his normal, loud voice, not bothering to keep it down. Nothing.

A strange thought entered his mind. That wasn't the way people usually slept. Was she… unconscious?

He took a good look around again. This place was a mess; the only thing that was in any good shape was the sawmill itself. The buildings around… he'd seen better cared for hovels. That was when he connected a few dots. How did the owner of Half-Moon Mill know Gilfre was looking for workers? This woman had to have run a profitable business for some time. Alone.

With a sigh, he stood up and went inside to clean and put away the dirty pot. It would not be the first time he took care of a partner that got themselves knocked out for good. 'Usually from mead, rather than hard work, though', he thought and a small smile played around his tusks. He much preferred Gilfre's reason.

When he stepped outside to continue working, he hesitated. He knew exactly what to do with Hjorunn when he got so drunk he passed out. He carried the stupid old man inside, laid him down on the bed on his side and made sure he had water once he woke up. Doing the same thing for this woman was different, though.

Kharag shrugged his shoulders. What did he care what the woman thought about him? So long as he worked hard, there should be no great grumbling about how exactly he treated her. How he helped her. So long as she didn't feel threatened… but Kharag had no intention of so much as touching the laces of her dress while she slept.

The moment he picked Gilfre up, she sighed in her sleep and laid her head against his chest. Kharag couldn't help the small purr that escaped. Desperate he was not, but… it's been a while since a woman last showed any kind of interest in him. Maybe he'll go to the city once he made enough money and… deal with his needs.

Laying the Imperial down, he noticed she had a bed for two. Did she have a husband once? Maybe he died in the war, as all her other workers did.

He straightened. No matter. He wasn't paid to stand around and think about things.

There was work to be done.

-mixedwaters-mixedwaters-mixedwaters-

Gilfre woke up with a gasp.

A moment later, she realized she was in her bed, still in work clothes, when she clearly remembered just closing her eyes for a few minutes outside. She must have fallen asleep and… and her new worker carried her inside.

Gods, what he must think of her! She covered her eyes desperately. Here she wanted nothing more than to make sure the Orc will stay, to make herself into the best employer to ever be, and then she fell asleep on his first day without waking for… what time was it anyway?

A quick look outside revealed a quickly darkening sky. Her eyes widened in horror. She jumped out of the bed and ran outside.

The sound of ax striking wood had her turn her head towards the Orc. Kharag. Cutting firewood.

"Oh." Nothing else entered her mind. Not only did he not leave her, he was still working. She felt her eyes grow wet with tears.

The orc paused in between moves, then turned towards her, leaning on the ax. "You're up."

"Ah. Yes. I… I apologize, I didn't…" she stuttered through the clogged up throat, not knowing how to react to his simple statement. It was not an accusation - just a simple observation. That was… good.

Kharag grunted, "It's fine." He turned back towards the pile of firewood at his feet, lifting another log to be cut.

Well, that was… curt. Gilfre rubbed her arms against the sudden cold. Did that mean he will stay or…

"Please, come inside," she needed to persuade him to stay. Somehow. Not working him to the bone would be a good first step.

He looked at her, annoyed. "The work is not done yet," he growled.

Gilfre smiled at him, "Actually, it is." When he turned towards her with a lifted eyebrow, she waved her hand around, "I already managed to fulfill the quota for the week yesterday. I'm making more in case the Stormcloaks request more… as they usually do. But all that we managed today is merely a… insurance, that we will have enough to sell, even if something happened."

Kharag chuckled and laid the ax down beside the pile.

She was a bit shocked, hearing him chuckle. Until now, the only noises she heard him make were grunts and the occasional short reply. She honestly did not know he could laugh. She shook herself and beckoned him inside her house. It was time for dinner anyway.

Good thing there were two chairs at her table. This way he had somewhere to sit while she cooked the evening meal.

Looking down at the contents of the cooking pot, she decided to buy some meat for her new worker when the merchant came by again. While she usually ate the fish caught in her nets, it might not be enough to feed an Orc. He seemed the type to prefer red meat. Venison, maybe?

Her eyes darted to look at him, once again. He looked really awkward sitting at her table; as if he had no idea what to do now that there was nothing to, well, do. The entire house was filled with strange tension.

Kharag broke it first, "When do the Stormcloaks get here?"

"In the next two days, at most. They usually visit once a week to take the arrows for fletching together with most of the logs and firewood. All that's left then goes to Kynesgrove." She replied absentmindedly, still wondering what she could offer to make him stay. "I can give you your pay when they come, too."

"Appreciated," he muttered. "I want to… go check the city, in a week or so."

The ladle in Gilfre's hands almost fell into the stew. She turned her scared eyes towards him, "You want to leave?" Her voice trembled when she spoke. "Why, if I may ask?"

The Orc's already dark cheeks turned even darker with a blush. Kharag stammered for a moment, then huffed and crossed his arms over his chest and growled in embarrassed annoyance, "A man has… needs. I won't be gone for long."

Needs.

She heard that before. Many, many times, in fact. Frald and Bjarke used to say that as an excuse for disappearing for weeks on end.

Desperation twisted her gut. Kharag couldn't leave for so long! She didn't want to go back to working fourteen hours a day, just to make the mill profitable and keep the 'gracious acceptance' of the Stormcloaks to allow an Imperial to cut their wood instead of a 'proper Nord'.

A thought entered her mind and she clutched the ladle in her hands harder. There was a way to keep him here, at Mixwater, wasn't there? Kjan never left because of 'needs', after all. Why would he, when he had a willing body right here, at the mill? One he didn't have to pay for…

Could she do it? Offer Kharag the use of her body, so he wouldn't leave for the city? She took a closer look at him. He was not as… hideous as many Orcs were described. Nor as ugly as she remembered the occasional Orc traveler in Bruma. While not handsome, not by far, in the darkness of the night, his… attentions might be… bearable. She swallowed.

"You could… with me…" she stuttered, on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"What?" the Orc looked at her, unsure if he understood her right. There was no way she just…

Gilfre took a deep breath. "You could… satisfy your needs with me. There is no need to… leave for the city." She blushed, hard, and wrung her hands in her dress.

His mouth fell open. He stared at her as if he'd never seen a human before. Gilfre couldn' help but cross her arms over her chest, mirroring his position.

After a few moments without Kharag's reply, the awkwardness level in the room rose up to unbearable levels. When she couldn't stand the silence any longer, she spoke again in a trembling voice, "So, what do you say?"

Kharag narrowed his eyes, considering her for a few moments, then barked, "No." No explanations, no reasons… just a plain 'no'.

Gilfre felt a wave of shame pass through her. Gods, she knew she was tired and didn't really have time to take care of her appearance, but surely she must not look as horrible as the whores in Windhelm. Half of them ex-Stormcloaks, most likely missing limbs. Still, to be refused outright like this - by an Orc, no less - that hurt.

"May I ask why?" she asked him tersely.

Kharag snorted as if he smelled something unpleasant. "I don't rape."

"What? I just offered! It would be no rape…" her bewilderment must have been obvious for he interrupted her harshly.

"You don't desire me." He glared at her as if she just insulted him. "The whores are clear, it's business for them. I don't know why you offer, but I don't care to be made a fool."

"You can't leave for weeks on end! I can't work here alone!" She didn't want to go back to the brutal tempo from before. Not when she just found someone to work for her again, when she relaxed for the first time in… months? Years? She lost count a long time ago.

"Weeks?" he startled and gave her a bewildered look. "It… that don't take weeks. A day at most, with the journey…" he gave her a considering look as if he didn't know is she was that clueless or making fun of him.

"I know that," she blushed again, "But my previous workers always took at least a week to get back."

Kharag paused to stare at her for a moment. "Well, I don't. I'll be back the next day at most." He almost sounded reassuring, as if he only now realized what the real issue here was.

Gilfre swallowed heavily and nodded to him. He nodded back, then awkwardly took the bowl of stew from her hands and thanked her.

After dinner, he stood up and aimed outside. She watched him in bewilderment. "Where are you going?"

He stopped, then slowly turned back to her, "To sleep, of course. Workers sleep in the other house, right?"

"Err, yes, but it's not... it's not fit to live in. I… haven't had time to clear it in… well, it's been some time. And there are holes in the roof." She stated, uncertainly.

Kharag grunted in affirmation, "Yes. But there is no other place to sleep."

Gilfre cleared her throat, more awkward now than before. "You could sleep here."

When she saw his suspicious look again, she was really sorry for her offer from before. Hopefully, it won't haunt their relationship. With a sigh, she explained, "Just sleep, in the bed. It's big enough for two. Or one of us will take a bedroll and sleep by the fire."

Kharag hesitated. On one hand, he honestly didn't want to sleep on a moldy straw bed under a leaky roof. On the other hand, he didn't know this woman, and as desperate as she was to keep him here… he didn't know how far she'd be willing to go, what she'd do to… well.

In a strange twist of fate, he was worried for his modesty. From a woman. Who offered. He chuckled quietly and shook his head. "Thanks. But I'll sleep in the workers house."

Her quiet sigh of relief told him that he made the right choice. She offered, sure, but her heart wasn't in it. It would be no better than rape if he took her on that offer.

"Very well. Good night then." She nodded her head. "I'll make sure to do something about the sleeping arrangements tomorrow." And she meant it. If he worked as fast as he did today, the mill was in no danger of going under from lack of wood to sell. She'll have enough time to finally do something about the state of the worker's house.

Kharag nodded and walked out of the door.

Gilfre sighed and sat at the end of the bed.

'That could have gone better,' she thought to herself sardonically. 'I think I almost chased him away with that offer.' She snorted.

That Orc was so strange. Gilfre didn't know many men who would have refused that offer. Sure, she might not be a stunning beauty anymore, but still, free sex. Most men would have taken her up on that offer. And the reason he gave her was just as baffling. It wasn't because he just plain didn't want her - he refused because she didn't really want him.

Who even cared about that? Kjan didn't. Not that he ever hurt her, no. But whenever she tried to tell him no, tried to push him away, he'd continue at a slower pace, whisper filthy things in her ear and tease her until she let him do what he wanted. Made her 'his woman'.

For some reason, she felt that it wouldn't be the same with her new worker. As if he'd… respect her wishes on this, and wouldn't push until she wanted it too. Wanted him. For that reason alone, she might actually want to try…

Gilfre felt as if her thoughts hit a wall. Was she seriously considering…?

Yes. Yes, she was.

She combed her hair with a hand.

It might have been too long for her, too. Maybe it was the fact that she slept more today than she had some nights, or her desire to keep him at Mixwater at all cost, but she actually considered inviting her new employee into her bed.

Huh.

Perhaps women had needs too. If so, hers have been abandoned for too long.

With that thought, Gilfre stood up to clean up her table and prepare for bed. Tomorrow will be another long day, and even with a hard-working helper, there was still a lot to be done.

-mixedwaters-mixedwaters-mixedwaters-

Kharag took a deep breath, inhaling the cool night air. This was easily one of the weirdest and most taxing days in his life, and he counted leaving his stronghold and arranging Hjorunn's funeral into that.

But at least he had a job.

He looked around. The stream here was much faster, stronger than it was in Solitude. Gave more power to the saw, and demanded he work faster. There were moments when he felt even his strength tested, and he was used to working for two. Kharag shook his head and wondered how that slim little Imperial managed to keep the saw profitable for so long.

Or maybe she hadn't. He threw a dubious look at the worker's house. Little more than a hovel, really. All but fallen apart after the workers left.

Well… good to know he was needed, at least.

Desperately needed, going by the pretty little Imperial's offer just moments before.

He walked over to the door and tried the handle. To his surprise, it opened easily. He almost expected it to be rusted through. Thankfully, it didn't seem to be that bad.

The inside was dark and cold, with a large hole in the roof above one of the beds. 'Definitely not taking that one', he thought to himself and checked the rest.

The house has probably been a decent one. Couple years ago. Now Kharag had to pick the least rotten bed at the far corner near the wall and pray he wouldn't get sick. He picked up the bag he placed just behind the door before he started working, and set to make at least a small flame in the hearth. 'Good thing I work at the mill,' he thought as he poked the wood. 'At least there's always enough firewood around.'

His work done, he checked the house once again and settled in the bed.

Uncomfortable, but he had far worse on the road these past few weeks. He could definitely sleep in worse conditions if it meant he'd get to settle in one place and have a steady pay for his work. Maybe make enough to buy some shares in the business one day. As he had at Solitude's sawmill.

He turned to his side and looked out into the still chilly house. He almost regretted not taking his new employer on her offer. Almost.

But the look in her eyes stopped him. He had never seen a woman look at him like that. Disgust? Sure. Disinterest? More than his fair share. Fear? Sometimes, though he tried his best not to be the cause of that. But that mix of desperation and terror… it just wasn't right. Not even the hungriest whore plying her trade ever looked at him like that. As if her whole world would fall apart if he left.

All this, after just one day? This Gilfre must be at her wit's end. But then, he knew that already. From the moment she jumped at the chance to give him work. From the moment he saw the state of the mill.

It was just… such a shame. If he had a type, Gilfre would be it. A beautiful woman not afraid of hard work, one who didn't think him beneath her just because he was an Orc. One who tried to give her best to those who showed they were willing to work just as hard. He could respect that.

And she even offered…

Kharag sneered at his own thoughts and turned to his other side, pulling the thin blanket closer to his body.

He had a feeling her offer would haunt him for some time to come.

-mixedwaters-mixedwaters-mixedwaters-

A/N: Aaaand that's it. This is all I wrote until now so I can't tell when the next part will be ready. I have 'a masterplan' meaning I know what's about to happen, so no chance of a total writer's block, but I can't promise steady updates.

I hope you liked it :)