Chapter 4: Rikke

Of course Marzuum had had to carry the nord down the steep slope that led from the Crest to the hot springs since her calf muscle had not fully healed yet. The legionnaire let out a sigh of relief as he lowered her into the warm waters of the hot springs, seemingly indifferent to the fact that he was once more seeing her naked form. Though the first time had been born of necessity, he'd still felt some shame looking at her while she was unconscious. Now, he openly admired her before she submerged herself in the water up to her neck.

He turned to leave. "Will you not join me, Marzuum?" The orc hesitated. He'd simply planned on bathing once he'd gotten her back up the Crest, when she was done with her own bath but–he took one last look around them. Once he was sure that there were no threats in the area, he buried his axe blade first into the soft ground next to the pool of water, removed his fur armor, and stepped into the spring. Like the legionnaire, he sighed with pleasure upon entering the water. The warm waters washed over him, cleansing the dirt from both mind and body. He'd noticed that the nord's eyes never left him–even as he'd disrobed.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind. The last time he had mated with one from outside of his race, things had not ended well. He closed his eyes, and listened to the world around them as he breathed in the steam from the springs. He heard a mammoth trumpet in the distance, and heard birds flying low through the area. "My name is Rikke, by the way."

Marzuum opened his eyes. The nord was smiling at him. The steam made her hair stick to her face, and her face was flushed, although Marzuum couldn't tell if it was from the steam or–otherwise. "Just figured I'd tell you since you never asked." She continued.

Marzuum grunted in response. Growing up in an orc settlement, he'd grown accustomed to taking what he wanted, and fighting for what others had. As long as you had the strength to back up your claim, anything could be yours. But outside of those settlements, the rules were different. The women were different. Orc and Nord–no, orc and human coupling wasn't completely unheard of, but it was rare. Not just rare, but dangerous. There were plenty of those who still did not accept those type of relationships. Especially in Skyrim.

He'd met plenty of women like this–Rikke before. Drawn to him by pheromones or sheer female curiosity, but more often than not, they were all talk. Few human women were brave enough–or stupid enough–to lay with an orc, and risk being marked by him. A human woman marked by an orc would undoubtedly leave her unable to find a permanent mate of her own kind in the future. Almost every man would consider them tainted after the fact.

For those reasons and more, he'd been trying to interact with this Nord as little as possible. Though he did indeed find her beautiful. For him, physical attraction was secondary. Among his kind, orc chieftans normally had at least four wives, each of whom had specific roles to play to strengthen their husband's stronghold. The first wife to be taken was the huntswife, was needed to help the chief provide food, and supplies for the hold. For without those, a hold would starve. The forgewife was the second wife who was claimed. She had to be capable of forging the strongest of weapons and armor, so that the hold could defend itself. The third wife was the hearthwife, whose job was to cook and give the chief an heir. For this wife, little more than beauty was needed. The fourth was the shieldwife, she who was trusted most to guard her husband and who would accompany the chief into battle whenever the need arose.

Marzuum had yet needed no protection, but he had the feeling that this nord had the potential to be a great shieldwife, if she wasn't bluffing. Still, it was orcish custom to marry the wives in the order set forth by Malacath's Code. He looked at the legionnaire again. He was surprised that she hadn't left already, even if she couldn't walk far on her own at the moment. Most humans ran at the very sight of him.

Yet here she was, not just completely at ease, but almost taunting him, challenging him to make an attempt for her affections. She had risen just enough in the water that the top of her breasts were visible. Marzuum felt his blood begin to grow hot, and it had nothing to do with the spring. "Why were those Stormcloaks chasing you? A fellow Nord." he asked in a desperate attempt to distract himself.

Her smile grew smaller, but didn't disappear. "You see me naked not once, but twice, remind me to check my stitches and then ask why I was being chased all before ever asking my name. What does this say about you, I wonder, Marzuum Gro-Narzul?"

Marzuum's head jerked in surprise at the perfect pronunciation of his name, but before he could respond the nord Rikke continued, "To answer your question. I was on my way to Whiterun." Her smile had finally disappeared, replaced by a seriousness that befit a soldier being debriefed. "I am the chief legate for the Imperial Legion in Skyrim under General Tullius. I have been traveling the realm inspecting our camps in preparation for our war with the Stormcloaks. I was on my way to Whiterun to meet with Jarl Balgruuf on a matter of great import when I was ambushed."

Marzuum nodded. "You should be well enough to travel by tomorrow. There's a witch nearby in Witchmist Grove that I can procure some healing potions from, if needed. I can also send you with some supplies to help. You should be able to complete your mission in just a couple of days with swift riding."

"Are you that eager to be rid of me, Marzuum Gro-Narzul?" Marzuum met her eyes and saw that she was enjoying how unsettled he was.

"Marz is fine," he said gruffly.

"Marz it is then."

For a few moments there was silence again, and Marz believed the nord was finally finished speaking. Until, "Why did you save me Marz?" You had nothing to gain, and everything to lose, so why bother?"

At least this time it was an easy question with an easy answer. Marz shrugged, "I had nothing to lose. All of my kind long for a good death, preferably on the battlefield of course. I watched you fight. Thought you deserved the same. Besides," he looked her in the eyes. "Those men were never a threat to me."

Rikke nodded her agreement. "No, I don't believe they ever were."

They watched as giants walked with their mammoths some distance away. "I have a proposal, Marz." The orc growled softly, but said nothing. Rikke took this as an invitation to continue. "Accompany me to Whiterun. Believe me when I say I am loathe to ask for protection of any kind, especially from a man–er male, but with my injuries it would be best to have a companion, at least until I reach Whiterun. On my honor, I'll make sure you're rewarded well for all of your services."

There it was again. The hint of something more. Marz was growing tired of this game. In his opinion, the only joy to be found in hunting came from the kill, not the chase. He shook his head, determined to say no. Then again, if he returned to Whiterun, he might see her again.

After the briefest of pauses, "We leave at sunrise." He was surprised by the words. Moreso that they had come from his own mouth. Rikke nodded. "Good. I love a man–er orc, who can take charge." She winced as she moved under the water.

"Are you in pain–Rikke?" The Nord smiled at the use of her name. "Yes, actually I wondered if you might be willing to check the stitch on my ribs? I can't really see it if you know what I mean." Marz knew what she meant. It was the one located just under her breast. He took a deep breath and motioned her over.

She glided through the water gracefully towards him. The ripples she created while moving hid her form well, but once she was in front of him, she stood up so that the water was only at her waist. She lifted her breast with both hands, but the other hung completely free. An involuntary growl reverberated in his chest. Marz could feel his blood getting hot again. Even worse, it wasn't just his body temperature that was rising this time.

If she moved any closer–he blinked long and slow, forcing himself to look at her wound. Aside from slight redness, it did not appear infected. "Should be fine with one more healing potion." He said. His eyes still hadn't moved away. "I'll fetch another healing potion for you tomorrow before we leave."

"That's good," Rikke said, sighing with relief. She let her breast fall free, and Marz thought that surely she would retreat to her previous spot. Instead, her eyes narrowed, and she drew so close that she was practically on top of him. He could feel her breasts on his own chest, her hands grasped his shoulders and she said, "Marz I need to tell you something, and I need you to try and stay calm while I do." Does she think I'll hurt her if she makes an advance? He wondered to himself. Whatever the case, whether she meant to or not, he felt some part of her brush against him under the water. His heart beat even faster as she leaned forward. He could feel her breath in his ear as she whispered, "There's a sabre cat behind you about to pounce any moment now."

It took him half a second to process her words before he shoved her to the side and turned to face the predator that had made the foolish mistake of stalking him. He roared as it leapt at him, and both orc and cat fell into the water. Marz instinctively brought his knees to his chest under the water to prevent the cat from disemboweling him. As the two thrashed in the water, he could feel its claws sink into his arms, but it was already dead, even if it didn't know it yet. Marz' previous lust had turned to bloodlust. Shifting his weight in the water, he was able to gain the higher position, and wrapped both of his large hands around the cat's throat. He squeezed, and roared into the water until he felt the cat go limp. Only then did he release his grip, and stand up, taking in a big gulp of air.

Rikke held his bloody axe in her hand, and he realized that she must have been hitting the cat with it once it had pounced. She looked at him with a mixed expression of fear, admiration, and–lust? He looked down and realized that standing at full height, the water only reached his lower hips, leaving Rikke with almost a full view of well, everything. He growled. "Bath time is over."