Skyrim
The massive black horse rose from the black tarn outside the sanctuary. Nessa watched in amazement and a little fear. Its red eyes glowed in the pre-dawn darkness. She turned to Arnbjorn. "You expect me to ride this… hellspawn?"
"You don't know how to ride, morsel?"
She furrowed her brow, looking angrily at him. "I know how to ride well enough, but this… creature…" she sputtered as she eyed the demonic horse.
"Aw." Arnbjorn shook his head and stepped up to the horse that whickered familiarly and nuzzled him. "Don't listen to her, Shadowmere. She's an ignorant girl." He turned to Nessa. "This is Astrid's own horse and it's probably the fastest in all of Skyrim, not to mention a fierce and stout-hearted fellow as well. But mind your tongue, bit, Shadowmere understands you. Now, if you're done complaining, we should go."
Nessa shot a dubious glance at Arnbjorn but approached the edge of the tarn and held out a hand to the horse. It stepped out of the inky pool and sniffed her hand. "I'm sorry, Shadowmere. I've just never seen a horse like you." At that, the horse nuzzled her hair and let her guide him.
"There, you see? He's a perfect gentleman, unless he doesn't like you." Arnbjorn grasped Nessa around the waist and lifted her easily onto the horse.
"I can mount, myself, you know." She bristled at Arnbjorn treating her like a child.
"That I should like to see, bit. Mounting yourself sounds quite… interesting." He began to undress himself as he teased Nessa.
"Gods! Why are you undressing now?" Nessa said, watching him pull his shirt over his head. "I think you've got an unnatural inclination to be naked!"
He stuffed his shirt into his pack and began to unlace his pants. "I'm going to run alongside. Can't keep up as human and I don't want to leave my clothes behind. Better get used to seeing me naked, bit." He pulled down his breeches and she turned away.
Nessa worried. Going on this long journey with Arnbjorn was going to be very trying. Even though they'd been getting along better there was still tension between them. Not only that, but Nessa was very depressed over Astrid's rejection and seeing Arnbjorn every day was a reminder of that. She sat astride Shadowmere, patting his neck while Arnbjorn took his clothes off. Then he tied their bags to the horse's saddle.
"All right then," he said. "Let's get on the way."
Turning to look at him she saw him begin to transform. It looked like it must be horribly painful as his body stretched in some places and contracted in others until he became the white ice wolf she had seen in the forest. Shadowmere seemed not to mind the proximity of the wolf. Nessa doubted that anything as hellish looking as this horse would have anything to fear from a wolf. Nessa spurred the horse and they climbed out of the ravine where the sanctuary was hidden.
Once on the road Shadowmere seemed to want to run; it was all Nessa could do to keep him to a trot. She was afraid Arnbjorn wouldn't be able to keep up. But he trotted alongside them seemingly without effort. After they'd gone a little ways Arnbjorn let out a strange bark and Shadowmere broke into a canter. The wolf had no problem keeping up so she kicked the horse into a gallop. That, finally, was what Shadowmere wanted. He seemed to almost fly down the road and his stride was uncommonly comfortable. Arnbjorn kept pace with them, but Nessa could see it was an effort. His tongue lolled out the side of his mouth and his galloping gait almost a mirror of the horse's. It almost seemed like the horse and the wolf were racing. In fact, she was sure of it. She bent close to Shadowmere's neck and urged him on.
The lack of wind resistance and Nessa's encouragement gave the horse the advantage and soon they were pulling ahead of the white wolf. The race was exhilarating and she found she was smiling and patting the horse, completely forgetting how demonic the horse looked.
"Good boy, Shadowmere. You showed that woof, didn't you?"
Shadowmere's head bobbed as if he understood her and he slowed down to a comfortable canter again to let Arnbjorn catch up. The wolf's sides were heaving so she slowed the horse to a trot to let him recover, but even at a trot the miles were passing quickly.
They traveled swiftly that first day, stopping only a few times to eat. Arnbjorn would bark gruffly and Shadowmere seemed to understand that the wolf wanted him to stop, so stop he would. Nessa was impressed with the horse; hellspawn or not, it was keenly intelligent. She wondered how Astrid had acquired such an amazing horse. Then thinking of Astrid sent her off into a funk again.
At one stop Arnbjorn ran off into the underbrush after barking Shadowmere to a stop. She slid out of the saddle and paced back and forth, trying to work the kinks out of her muscles.
How could I have prevented this? She thought for the hundredth time. How could I have kept Astrid? She tried to work out all the ways she failed. Everything had seemed to be so wonderful, but then that night had happened. Arnbjorn and Astrid had both told her she had nearly died, but she didn't believe them. Truthfully, the events were still blurred. All she remembered was feeling the most intense pleasure… then it seemed that several days passed before she remembered anything else. Perhaps they're right. But why had Astrid rejected Arnbjorn too? It didn't make a bit of sense to her.
She was so deep in thought she didn't hear Arnbjorn return. He watched her pacing back and forth, her face was sad and drawn. He dropped the fat hare he was carrying in his mouth and transformed back to human. He walked up behind her as she stood staring out over the landscape and put a gentle hand on her shoulder to reassure her.
Nessa yelled and jumped away, landing several feet away in a crouch and she began to draw her weapons.
"Good reflexes, bit, but you were rather easy to surprise," Arnbjorn said, smiling.
"By the Nine, woof, I could have killed you!" she snapped at him, her eyes flashing angrily.
He chuckled, his smile growing. "Not likely."
Her nerves were still on edge from being startled and the tension made her lash out. "And you're naked again. Talos have mercy, can't you cover yourself at least a little?"
His smile grew sardonic as she ranted at him. "I bring a fine rabbit for our lunch and all you can do is complain about how I dress?" He handed her the rabbit.
"You don't dress, that's the problem," she said. She took the rabbit over to a rock and began to skin it expertly. She'd certainly had enough practice skinning and butchering rabbits on her journeys around Skyrim.
Arnbjorn growled something at her and stomped over to his pack and pulled out a pair of pants and put them on. "Does that suit, your highness?"
Nessa looked up from the rabbit she was skinning and nodded. She looked at the rabbit but her eyes wanted to track back to Arnbjorn. She'd never really looked at him when he was naked. She always looked away and tried not to see. But now… his pants rode low on his hips and he had the most fascinating indentations where his waist and hips joined. She swallowed hard and willed herself to focus on the rabbit. He also had a pale, broad chest and arms like a blacksmith. She hadn't thought about men at all since Astrid and all of a sudden her mouth was going dry because of him? She truly was going insane.
Focus Nessa! The knife slipped and she nearly made a mess of the hare.
"How do you expect to seduce your targets in Solitude if you can't even bring yourself to look at a naked man?" Arnbjorn asked her.
"Wait… Seduce them?" Nessa put the knife down and looked at Arnbjorn, forcing herself to look at his face.
"Oh right, I didn't tell you about that yet, did I? Surely Astrid said as much in the meeting. That's why she's sending you, a pretty Nord girl whose shy naiveté ensnares them. Old man dies in bed fucking a young girl. No one thinks a thing of it except, perhaps, to envy him."
"Fucking an old man?" She stood up abruptly, half-skinned rabbit forgotten. "I thought maybe he could slip and fall down some stairs or something like that." She shook her head. "You can't be serious!"
He shrugged. "It's what Astrid suggested, but I suppose we could think of another way if you can't bring yourself to do it."
Nessa frowned. Astrid suggested it. There were few arguments that could carry more weight than that with her. She bit her lip and nodded at Arnbjorn. "I can do it."
It sounded like she was trying to convince herself rather than him. "Have you ever been with a man, bit?"
She nodded and went back to skinning the hare. "Yes." She didn't elaborate.
"And?" he prompted her. "Was it not to your liking?"
She didn't answer at first and Arnbjorn wondered if she would.
"It hurt and was… kind of disgusting. All that grunting and sweating…" she said, looking intently at the rabbit. "Can't see what all the fuss is about, actually."
Arnbjorn turned away to hide his smile. "And yet you enjoyed it with Astrid?"
"That was different!" She yanked hard on the rabbit skin pulling it free of the meat. "It was beautiful and gentle." She skipped over the parts where Astrid had shown her rougher side, but even so it had been pleasurable. "She always took time and made sure I was enjoying it." Thinking of Astrid made her sad again.
"Don't you think a man could be like that?" he asked.
"No. Especially not a Nord. They're rough and brutish." She wrinkled her nose.
He turned around again, his smile fading. "How many men have you been with, Nessa?"
She didn't answer but concentrated on carving the rabbit.
"Well? Must be a lot if you're such an expert on Nord men," he goaded her.
"It was not a lot! Just one." The insinuation offended her. She deftly cut through the last thigh bone and stood back from her work.
"Ah," he said, stroking his beard and nodding sagely. "You've slept with one man, a Nord presumably, and now you've passed judgment on all of us."
She wiped her bloody hands on the grass. "I suppose you're the exception to the rule? You, of all Nord men, are an excellent lover?" She laughed. "Funny, the one I slept with said much the same."
"Do you really think Astrid would put up with me if I weren't a good lover?" He was glaring at her now.
She bit her lip but set her jaw stubbornly and shrugged. "She put up with me and I knew nothing."
"You learned, didn't you? In fact, I bet you learned quite a lot." He leered at her, coming within her personal space, noting she didn't pull away but faced him defiantly.
"The hare is ready for cooking. We need a fire. I'll get some firewood." It was a good excuse to get away from him. Talking about his wife that way... it made her very uncomfortable but she'd be damned if she showed him.
She didn't hear his low chuckle as she left. When she returned she used a spell Festus had taught her to light the wood and they roasted the hare, maintaining an uncomfortable silence. Then when it was time to resume their travels Arnbjorn announced he wanted to ride for a while.
"Should I walk, then?" she asked.
"No, that'll be too slow. We'll ride double."
For the rest of the day they both rode Shadowmere, Nessa in front and Arnbjorn behind her. She was acutely aware of him behind her, his muscular thighs against her hips, sometimes with one arm loosely wrapped around her waist for balance. It was oddly comforting, she found. There was something fascinating about his pale arm, how ropey it was with muscles and veins. She wondered how it would feel to be embraced with such arms. Shut up! She mentally scolded herself for such thoughts.
That night they found a secluded grove a ways off the road and set up their tent. He slept in wolf form at the opening to the tent, with his nose poking out, and she slept in a bedroll on the other side of the little tent. It was an easy matter for Nessa to fall asleep. She was exhausted.
Arnbjorn watched the moons rise and listened to Nessa's slumbering breath. The girl had a few lessons to learn and he intended to teach them to her.
~o~o~o~
Encountering bandits and highwaymen was an unfortunately frequent occurrence while traveling in Skyrim. They continually scanned rocky slopes, looking for reflections from weapons, or warily passed by seemingly abandoned fortresses. Often they were able to avoid them, but from time to time they had to fight. Usually the bandit groups were half-starved, poorly armed soldiers from one army or the other, either deserters or survivors from a battle gone badly for their side. If they were Stormcloaks, there was a good chance they wouldn't be attack because Arnbjorn and Nessa were Nords. The assassins often shared their food and perhaps a little coin. It was worth it to avoid a fight that might slow them down.
However, if the bandits were from the Imperial army, those who called themselves Forsworn, or just regular outlaws preying on travelers, there would be a fight, usually after a ridiculous demand that they hand over the horse, and all their goods and that Nessa should come willingly with them, "or else".
That was usually when Arnbjorn would barrel out of the underbrush and rip the throat out of the nearest bandit and Nessa would suddenly have two blades in her hands and go for another bandit. At first when they fought together it was a little clumsy but little by little they seemed to learn how to stay out of each other's way.
As Veezara predicted, she made a lot of corpses, but fighting for your life was a little different from assassination.
As the days passed they went from the relatively mild south to the colder north. It was early autumn and the trees were turning gold, yellow and red, and many were losing their leaves already. The last few days the air held a bite she hadn't felt in a long time.
They'd been on the road for a week now and were nearly halfway to Solitude. They would reach Rorikstead in two more days, Arnbjorn said. When they stopped that afternoon, she used the last of the light that afternoon to wander through the woods and find useful ingredients. The woods exerted a strong pull on her as the setting sun's light filtered through the leaves, dappling the ground in shadow and light stained with the hues of autumn.
There were clusters of mountain flowers in blue, purple, and sometimes red, where the trees were spaced further apart and the sun could hit the ground for a few hours each day. She followed the trail of flower clusters, picking them for her potions and poisons. Her hands were becoming full of mountain flowers when she spotted a very shady grove, in the center of which was a perfect circle of mushrooms at least eight feet across.
"A fairy circle!" She ran into the center of it. Dropping her flowers she spread her arms and turned in circles, her eyes closed, three times around one way, then three the other. If she didn't blunder into a mushroom she would get her heart's desire, or so the children said. Astrid.
She stopped her turning and opened her eyes and saw herself perfectly centered and the mushrooms undisturbed.
"What did you wish for?" Arnbjorn walked out of the shadows of the forest, for once not naked.
"Wish? It is no wishing game. The fairies will grant your heart's desire, or so the children believe." She smiled sheepishly and lurched to the side a little dizzy from the turning about.
Arnbjorn leapt over the mushroom and steadied her. "I can guess what that is." He shook his head and grimaced at her. "My wife."
She shrugged. "Maybe. Perhaps I don't know my heart's desire yet. It might be the gods intend something else for me than to desire someone's wife." She sighed and dropped down on the ground next to her flowers. "I don't know, Arnbjorn."
He crouched down beside her and gathered up her flowers. "Maybe there is someone else for you, bit." He held out the flowers to her and she gathered them in her hands.
She looked him in the face and their eyes met held. His were pale gold. How odd, she mused, when he is a wolf they're gray blue, like ice. He seemed to draw nearer than necessary to put the flowers in her arms and she didn't retreat. The moment seemed suspended forever frozen, like an insect in amber. And amber it was, with the sun filtering through yellow leaves. His hand wrapped around her upper arm and for a moment he pulled her toward him.
Then just as suddenly he threw her violently to the side. "Bandits!" he shouted as he pulled the enormous battle axe off his back. An arrow sliced the air where she had been just the moment before and nearly hit Arnbjorn. He roared an angry challenge and met one of the several bandits rushing at them.
Nessa rolled behind a boulder and pulled her bow off her back. Even as she drew a pair of arrows from her quiver, she noticed the men scuffling through the fairy ring and sending mushrooms flying everywhere. It was an oddly incongruent thought. Collecting herself she nocked an arrow, aimed and let it fly. It hit one of the bandits in the bicep. He shouted and looked up to see her peeking out from behind the boulder.
The outlaw roared at her and charged, forgetting about Arnbjorn. With the second arrow in her hand already she nocked it quickly, aimed, and, as he was just leaping on the rock with his sword raised, she shot him in the belly. He folded up and dropped backwards off the boulder. That had come closer than she would have liked. She drew two more arrows out of her quiver.
Arnbjorn was holding his own with two bandits, although he was spending more time blocking their strikes and punching them than he was actually swinging his axe. She scanned the area looking for the archer who had initially shot at them and saw someone slinking through the trees trying to get a better shot at Arnbjorn. If that archer continued on his current path, she might be able to shoot him as he came into view between a pair of widely spaced trees. She decided to hold her position and try for the difficult shot.
She tried to conceal herself as well as possible in the shadows. She nocked an arrow, drew, and waited. Sweat began to bead on her upper lip and her arm started to weaken from holding the string for so long. Then, finally, the archer stepped into view. "Talos, guide my arrow," she whispered and she let it fly.
Talos must've heard her prayer because the arrow hit the other archer in the arm. She heard a shriek and saw him drop the bow.
"Ha! Just try using that bow now, dog!" she shouted and made an obscene gesture in his direction.
Arnbjorn was still on the defensive and he was tiring. She had to help him. She pulled out another arrow and waited until there was plenty of room between him and an attacker and she shot one. It struck him in the hip and the man limped out of combat, trying to retreat in a hurry. That allowed Arnbjorn to concentrate on one attack. She drew another arrow and sent it into the back of the retreating bandit. Just then Arnbjorn delivered a pummeling with the handle of his axe and then finished with a blade to the man's neck. An executioner couldn't have performed a more flawless beheading. The bandit's head rolled a short ways away. Nessa was reminded Helgen.
"Oh… ugh." She turned away for a moment not wanting to see the gory sight before her.
"Are you all right?" Arnbjorn looked at her with concern in his eyes.
"I'm fine… I just don't like beheadings. I nearly was once." She looked up at him and smiled tentatively. "Neatly done, though."
Arnbjorn looked at the site where they had fought. "Sorry about the fairy ring."
She laughed at him, just glad he was alive and unhurt. "I don't care about the stupid fairy ring. I was just being… childish."
There was the sound of a twig snapping behind her and she turned to see the archer she'd shot. "Talos!" she swore aloud. She'd forgotten about him.
Apparently he hadn't forgotten about her. He held a hand axe with his good arm and rushed at her. "I will kill you, Nord bitch!" he screamed. She had an arrow nocked and drawn while there was still a good distance between them. She let the arrow fly, but before she could even shout a warning Arnbjorn leapt in front of the man, his axe ready to split the man down the middle.
She saw her own arrow sink into Arnbjorn's shoulder and he gave a grunt, but his axe still cleaved the man, hewing his shoulder where it met his neck. The last bandit dropped and Arnbjorn dropped his axe and looked over his shoulder to see the arrow lodged there.
"Arnbjorn! Oh gods!" Nessa dashed over to him. "I'm so sorry."
He groaned and sat on a rock. "I guess that's one way you can get Astrid to yourself," he said chuckling.
The comment struck her like a cruel barb. "I didn't do it on purpose!"
"I know, bit." He smiled gamely at her. "I didn't bother to see what you were doing when I jumped in there." He grunted with the pain. "I didn't fancy him talking to you that way." He reached over his shoulder with the uninjured arm and grasped the arrow around the shaft and pulled.
"Talos! No!" She slapped at his hand. "Let me do it, you'll just damage yourself more."
He pulled his hand away and ground his teeth, waiting for her. This stupid wound was going to hamper his ability to fight and it'd certainly slow down their travel for a few days. He wouldn't be able to travel as a wolf and riding Shadowmere would be damned painful.
Nessa bit her lip and carefully wrapped her hand around the arrow. It'd sunk in deeply. "Ready?" she asked.
"Just get it out," he growled.
She squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced, but pulled the arrow out smoothly, trying not to damage more muscle. The wound started to bleed copiously then. "I'm sorry."
He gave a deep throated growl as the arrow came out, but that was as much as he expressed. "I'm not going to be able to hunt for our supper tonight."
"You don't need to." She tried to help Arnbjorn to his feet but he got up on his own. "I'll take care of it all." They walked down together to where they'd left the horse and she began setting up the camp.
With water boiling and a warm fire going she walked over to where Arnbjorn was seated. "Take your shirt off. I need to clean that wound and bind it."
He looked at her through half-lidded eyes, trying to ignore the pain and the feeling of blood soaking into his shirt. "You just want me naked, don't you, bit?"
She frowned at him. "I won't have to wait long, I'm sure. You're usually naked every other time I look at you."
He chuckled and crossed his arms, grabbing the hem of his shirt and tried to lift it off. He hissed loudly when he tried to raise the arm on the injured side. "You're going to have to undress me, morsel."
She helped him out of his shirt. He hissed again when it stuck to the wound and she had to pull it away. "I'm sorry, Arnbjorn. I have some potions that should help."
"Just don't confuse your potions with your poisons, bit," he joked and then groaned.
Nessa went through her backpack and found an assortment of healing salves and potions. "Now", she looked between the bottles and jars in her lap, "which was the festering poison of ulceration and which was the healing tonic?"
Arnbjorn's eyebrows rose in alarm and then he saw Nessa sneak a look at his face with a sly smile on her own. "Ah, you had me worried, bit."
"The healing tonics and salves are blue, from the mountain flowers, and I always put them in the same type of jar. An alchemist can't be sloppy with such things. There's a little rune on these jars too." She held it out for him to see. "In case you ever need to use this stuff on me. That rune means healing." She got up and dipped her cloth into the pot of very hot water and began to bathe his wound.
"That hurts!" Arnbjorn complained and pulled away from her.
"I know. Sit still! We need to clean the gunk out. Besides, if you think this hurts wait until I pour the healing potion in there. It might be best if you take a sleeping potion first."
"The one you give people and they never wake up from?" he asked. "I'll pass."
"Well… yes, but I won't give you so much. Trust me, woof." She worked on his wound, pulling out bits of hair and grass. She rummaged through her backpack again and found the sleeping draught. "This one has a closed eye on it." She showed him the rune. "For obvious reasons."
"I don't need it," he said gruffly. "Just get on with it."
Sighing, Nessa opened the top to the healing tonic. "Bend over then and don't move!"
He leaned forward and she poured the blue liquid into his wound. A deep rumbling growl came from him and Nessa feared he might turn into a wolf. "Don't move!" she scolded him. After a few minutes she began to dry the wound and then apply salve. "You can sit up now."
His face looked paler than normal and his jaw was set rigidly against the pain. "Are you done torturing me?" he asked.
"The worst is over. A little healing magic and then I'll bind it." She placed her hands over the wound and used the healing spell that Gabrielle had taught her. It wasn't very powerful but she could tell it made him feel better.
Arnbjorn relaxed a little as the restoration spell worked on his shoulder. For a moment he was almost pain free. "Gods, that feels good."
Magic did not come easily to Nessa. Brow furrowed, sweat forming on her forehead, her hands began to tremble with the effort.
Arnbjorn saw what it was costing her and he gently took her hand off his shoulder. "That's fine, bit. I'm feeling much better." In truth, the pain began to return as soon as she stopped.
She frowned at him. "I'm not very good at that. I think if we do it a few times a day it will help heal you faster." She pulled some linen cloth out of her bag and began to tear it. "I brought some cloth for bandages, just in case." She carefully bound up his wound, trying not to hurt him as she did it. "There! How does it feel?"
"Fine."
She thought he was probably lying. He still looked a little pale. She put her hand on his forehead. It seemed all right to her. "Why don't you go lie down in the tent? Use my bedroll. I'll wake you when supper is ready."
"I'm not an invalid," he grumbled. "I'll take care of Shadowmere."
Nessa set about making a stew out of some of the elk haunch they'd been carrying since they killed it the day before. The cool weather kept it fresh… mostly. They might be able to eat off it another day before they'd have to abandon it to scavengers. They had dried, salted meat, but as long as fresh meat was so easily acquired they hadn't had to resort to it.
She made a passable stew but Arnbjorn didn't eat much. She noticed his eye lids were drooping and he was staring vacantly into the fire. "Arnbjorn, are you all right?"
"Just a little tired, is all."
That was all she needed to know he was doing poorly. Arnbjorn would never admit to being tired. She put her stew aside and stood up. "All right, come on. You need some sleep. Take my bedroll."
He stood up, groaning as he did. "No, that's not necessary. I'll sleep as a wolf."
"No. Your bandages will come off." She gave him a little shove toward the tent.
He didn't protest or argue any further, another indication of how poorly he felt. He let her get him into her bedroll and she covered him with all their furs. He was exhausted, he had to admit. He felt a bone-deep weariness he couldn't remember having felt before. "Where will you sleep?" he asked her, his voice thick with drowsiness.
"Don't worry about it, woof. Just get some good sleep tonight so you'll be better in the morning." She reached out again with her hand and touched his forehead, pushing away his white hair. Does he have a fever? He felt warm to her, but her hands were cold. She was worried about his lack of appetite and sudden lassitude.
Her first thought was what Astrid would say if Arnbjorn should die, but then she realized that it wasn't her primary concern. Arnbjorn had been kind to her, protective even. Oh, he made fun of her and could be gruff, but he wasn't all bad. Her hand lingered on his forehead a moment. She thought he'd fallen asleep so she took her time to really look at his face. He was rather shaggy with his long hair and beard, but it suited him.
His hand sudden reached up and closed around hers, his eyes cracked open a little. "Hmmm tidbit, having second thoughts about Nord men?" A little smile played on his lips. He wasn't so exhausted he couldn't tease her a little.
She pulled her hand away. "Don't be stupid. I was just checking your temperature."
He chuckled weakly. "It's much warmer a few feet lower."
She pulled away and scowled at him. "Check your own temperature, then." She withdrew hastily from the tent but not before she heard him laughing again.
She took care of the little things they did around the camp each day. Shadowmere was left to roam free. He always came back when Arnbjorn whistled. She sat by the fire and wrapped herself in the horse's blanket. It began to get fiercely cold a few hours after sunset and the fire was dying down. She finally retreated to the tent.
She carefully reached for Arnbjorn in the little light coming into the tent from the fire. This time she was sure he was sound asleep. She'd never seen him sleep as a man. He looked younger with his face relaxed. If he trimmed his facial hair she thought he might be in his early thirties.
His forehead was warmer under her hand, this time. That was no good. His body must be fighting an infection. She found a pair of healing tonics in her pack and crawled over to the bedroll. "Arnbjorn," she said his name softly and touched him.
His eyes opened slowly as he emerged from a deep sleep. He turned his face to the voice. "Morsel. What is it?" He tried to focus on her but she looked blurred.
"You need to drink this tonic," she said, helping him sit up, careful to avoid touching his wounded shoulder.
He drank the tonic and wiped his lips off. "It's gone bad, hasn't it?"
"Maybe not. I'll see it in the morning when there's light." Her voice held more confidence than she had.
"Wolves heal fast, bit." How late is it? Nessa was still up. Was she planning to stay up all night? She had the horse's blanket, he could smell it. Of course, she wouldn't think of sharing the bedroll with him. Inviting her would just frighten her off. "But we wolves heal faster if we're very warm."
Nessa looked at her only source of warmth for the night, the horse blanket. She grew up in the cold and was used to it, but to give up her last remaining blanket might be the end of her.
Arnbjorn pretended to shiver. "I think I've taken a chill." A small lie, perhaps, but it might allow the girl to swallow her pride and sleep where it was warm. "I think it would be best if we shared the bedroll. Your body heat would help."
She hesitated. Certainly he had a point and if she didn't do her utmost to see him better… he could die. She'd seen strong men brought low by infections. They would waste away with fever and end up looking like old, old men before their time. That was, if they even survived. She didn't want that to happen to Arnbjorn.
"Of course," she said. She slipped off her leather armor and slid between the blankets as he held them open for her. She settled into the bedroll grateful for the warmth. Gods, he's like a furnace.It was difficult to imagine how someone who radiated so much heat could be cold. She turned with her back to him, trying to maintain at least a little distance between their bodies. "Is that better?" she asked.
"Aye, bit." He smiled into the dark. "Much, much better."
~o~o~o~
It was the tickling that woke him. He opened his eyes to find a lock of fair hair had escaped a braid and was tickling his nose. For a moment he forgot where he was. He stretched, pulling the woman next to him closer. Her backside was pressed against his groin. Astrid, he thought. His senses said otherwise. She smelled and Astrid didn't. She was warm… so warm, where Astrid's skin was always cool. He liked her smell. It was a little like the floor of a forest, thick with pine needles and decaying leaves. There was just a hint of - He buried his nose into the juncture of her neck and shoulder and breathed it in – rosemary and mountain flower. Over that was the tang of perspiration. She smelled human, and female. Waking up beside another woman, not Astrid… it seemed he had crossed a boundary in his marriage.
His hand rested on her stomach. He could feel her rhythmic breaths and sensed she was still deeply asleep. Her shirt had hiked up in the night so his hand rested on bare flesh. So tempting to draw his hand up a little, but he wouldn't. There was already the issue of his morning erection pressing into her backside. It didn't seem to fade as quickly as it should. It was her scent. Damn his lupine senses.
He diverted his attention away from the girl and took stock of his shoulder. His story hadn't been an entire lie. He did heal quickly, but today his shoulder only ached and that was beyond his expectations. Nessa must have some talent as a healer. He sat up and when Nessa didn't awaken he covered her in their furs and went out of the tent.
Nessa awoke slowly. Gods, she had slept soundly. She turned her head looking for Arnbjorn but he was gone. She was struck with a moment of panic. Perhaps he'd wandered off in a delirium; certainly he hadn't been in any condition to get out of bed. She sat up quickly and dashed out of the tent. There was a fire going and a pot of water hanging over it, heating. Shadowmere was nearby and looked content.
"Where's the woof, Shadowmere?" she asked, not really expecting an answer, but the horse turn its head away from her, to the east, and nickered. Nessa thought it was worth investigating in that direction. That was where she'd found a pond the night before. She picked her way through the woods and heard splashing as she neared the pond.
"Good morning, tidbit. Sleep well?" Arnbjorn greeted her as he splashed himself with cold water. He had removed the bandages and left them in the crotch of a tree.
She looked at him in amazement. Opened her mouth to scold him for being out of bed, but realized his wound looked almost healed. She splashed into the cold water. "Let me see it."
For once she didn't scold him for being naked. He turned his back to her and stooped down so she could see his shoulder. "See? Much better. I told you wolves heal fast."
"Kynareth's love, woof. That is amazing. It has nearly closed and I don't see any sign of infection." She grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him toward a boulder. "But all the same, it needs more healing." She pointed at the boulder. "Sit."
He sat while she placed her hands over the wound. Again, that sweet feeling seeped into his body, sweeping away all aches and pains. "It wasn't all me, you know. I don't normally heal that fast. You did a lot."
She didn't answer him; she was concentrating on the magic. She could see some of the angry redness fading from his skin. When her hands began to tremble, she stopped and inspected the wound again. It did look better, she could see it now. "Do you feel good enough to travel today?" she asked.
He stood up from the boulder gladly; it had been freezing his ass. "Yes. I won't be running with Shadowmere though. We could both use a bath though, no?"
"Yes. I'll bathe when you're done." She turned to walk out of the water, going back to camp to collect her armor and a clean set of underclothes.
"Still acting the virgin, huh? I hate to tell you this, bit, I've seen you naked a time or two and one of those times you were in bed with my wife." He strode through the water and caught her, picking her up easily despite the ache in his shoulder.
"Arnbjorn put me down!" She squirmed, trying to get free but he didn't let go. She didn't want to hurt his shoulder so she stopped struggling. Then there was the moment when she realized that she liked his arms around her. Her brows furrowed and she looked up into his face.
He looked down at her and noted her expression, half angry, half confused. When the water reached his waist he stopped. "I owe you thanks for healing me, bit." She wasn't struggling. She just looked more confused as he brought his lips to hers and kissed her softly. She stiffened in his arms a moment, like she might pull away, but she didn't. He broke off the kiss after a moment."But since you shot me in the first place…" He opened his arms and dropped her into the icy waters. Her shriek was cut short as the water swallowed her.
She surged up from the water and emerged dripping water from her braids. "Ooooh! You are a mean, nasty woof!" She began slog through the water toward him, her arms reaching to grab hold of him. He laughed and backed away, but he wasn't quite fast enough. She pounced on him and dunked him under the water. "I hope you have gills, woof," she said.
Catching her wrists in his hands, he pulled her down with him and wrapped his arms around her waist. He pushed back up to the surface with her struggling to get free. "A truce, morsel." He laughed as she tried to struggle. "Let's declare a truce so that we can get bathed and back on the road, eh? Astrid won't be very happy with either one of us if we drown each other."
"All right. I agree to a truce," she said.
He let go of her wrists, but watched her warily. For her part, she watched him just as carefully. Then she turned away and peeled off her wet undershirt.
Arnbjorn laughed. "Ah, you just never quit, do you?"
She turned around and threw her sodden undershirt at him. "I think you're fixated on nakedness."
"Nakedness-a, perhaps," he said, making a joke of her comment.
She bent and pulled off her the light cotton trousers she wore under her leather armor, ignoring his lewd remark. Arnbjorn's behavior was confusing. Why did he kiss her? He'd always seemed totally devoted to Astrid even when she'd been openly unfaithful to him. She scrubbed herself with handfuls of sand, wishing she had some soap with her, but it was back at the camp. Her thoughts whirled. Even now he was scrubbing himself with sand and watching her, she noted through carefully stolen glances at him.
"Get my back, please." He closed the distance to her and presented his back to her.
She scooped up a handful of sand from the bottom of the pond and scrubbed his back, avoiding the angry wound her arrow had made yesterday. Her hands glided over the muscular back rubbing in the sand to scrub away dirt and sweat. This was something she'd stolen glances at but hadn't ever had a chance to examine up close. She had to admit he was… impressive. "There," she said and dropped the last handful of sand.
"Turn around, bit, I'll get yours." He reached below the water for some sand.
She hesitated a moment and nearly rejected his offer. She could read the bemused look on his face. He would certainly ridicule her if she said no. It was a practical matter, she decided. Unless one could bend themselves like a kringla, washing your own back thoroughly was unlikely to happen. She turned slowly and waited. His hands were large and strong, yet gentle as they rubbed sand into her back. He gripped one shoulder and his fingers rested lightly on her collar bone as he scrubbed her back.
He stopped a moment and filled his hands with water and sluiced off the sand and dirt, leaving her skin glowing pinkly. "There you are, little morsel. I hope I wasn't too brutish."
She pulled away from him. "Thank you," she said tersely.
She climbed out of the pond and could hear Arnbjorn following behind her. Unfortunately the banks of the pond were muddy, so her feet were mucky by the time she reached their camp. At least Arnbjorn had made a fire that morning so they could warm themselves as they dried off.
"Just think, bit, day after tomorrow we should be in Rorikstead. There's a fine inn there. We'll have a soft bed, good hot food, and hot baths as well." He dried himself off and put on fresh underclothes and then his leather armor.
"A hot bath sounds very good, especially if it snows." Looking at the sky, it held that flat gray look it got before a storm and there was a sharpness to the air that promised to turn even sharper. The further north they went, the more likely they were to get into snow storms, especially as their road went through some mountain passes.
"All the more reason to ride double, then. We can keep each other warm." He began gathering up their gear and dismantling the tent, all the while talking about how good the food at the Rorikstead inn would be. "Stollen, kringla, roast mutton, and fresh baked bread, tidbit. You'd best eat well while we're there, the next inn is at Karthwasten which is two days journey. Their inn is shabby, at best. After that is Dragon Bridge and another two days and will see us in Solitude."
They finished disassembling camp and packed their gear on Shadowmere. Arnbjorn sat behind Nessa again, this time he kept his arm wrapped around her waist the entire day.
~o~o~o~
Notes: Friendly fire just had to happen. If you haven't played Skyrim, there are a number of companions you can travel with, and sometimes even marry. They're all great, but tend to get themselves killed as they run in front of your magic or archery. So, I brought that little element from the game into the story. Once I married Vilkas, another werewolf in-game, and he got so mad at me with my friendly fire he actually turned hostile toward me! Yikes! Reloaded that game.
I really had no intention of writing so much for this chapter, but I couldn't find a good stopping point.
Thanks so much for the reviews, the favoriting and putting my story on your alert lists. If you'd like a response to a review, please log in first. I really love getting your feedback. My thanks to Zevgirl and Biff Mclaughlin for their friendship and ideas.
Oh yes, kringla are a Nordic pastry that look like pretzels. Stollen is a bread-like fruit cake. I think they eat it around the Christmas season.
Thank you for reading!