Rorikstead
Naadia Heart-Striker awoke the next morning completely refreshed. She stretched and lounged for a moment under the warm blankets and furs. She remembered each detail of the dream she had experienced and savored the moment. She considered laying there and pleasuring herself, as her hands massaged her breasts and a finger glided down her stomach and found her clitoris. Where was Vilkas when she needed him, she thought. Shaking her head. she sat up and realized that would have to wait until tomorrow. "One more day's ride and THEN we will have our sweet reunion," she said out loud, as she swung her legs out of bed, stood and stretched again.
She padded naked across the room to a sideboard, where a wash basin and cleaning clothes were located. She splashed some water on her face, using the briskness of the cold liquid to bring her fully awake. She then used a washrag to wipe down the rest of her body. Turning, she saw that by the door her clothing and armor were folded and waiting to be donned. She brought the things over to the bed and began the process of dressing.
She preferred leather armor to other forms of protection. It was much lighter than other forms of armor. She had crafted this set herself and given it powerful enchantments, using the magicka she had learned. Additionally, it allowed her to accentuate her feminine assets and that always helped in the dealings she had with merchants and armorers around Skyrim.
Once she was dressed, she picked her bards clothing from the floor where she had shed them the previous night and neatly rolled them into the oiled leather covering. Finally, she slid on her boots and donned her gloves. She gathered her saddle packs and exited the room.
Mralki, the innkeeper of the Frostfruit Inn in Rorikstead was already up and about, as she entered the spacious taproom. "Good morning, Mralki," she said cheerfully, setting everything down by a table and taking a seat.
From behind the bar he smiled and said, "I have some hot apple cider on the coals and can make you a fine repast of eggs and bacon."
"By the Nine," Naadia said, "That would be wonderful."
He tossed the towel he was using to polish the bar on his shoulder and grabbed a tankard. Stepping from behind the bar, he walked among the tables to the large open fire in the center of the room and ladled the mug near to the brim with the steaming cider. He brought it over to Naadia's table and set it in front of her with a broad smile. She lifted it and deeply breathed in the spicy-sweet aroma of the drink, before sipping it. He then turned to the kitchen to bring her food.
A little later, as he returned with a plate of food. As he set the breakfast down Mralki said, "By the gods that was some performance you put on last night! My till is near overflowing with septims." With a laugh he finished by adding, "I'm glad the mothers took the kids home when they did. The fathers certainly appreciated it."
After eating forkful of eggs, Naadia inquired, "You didn't think I was too ... inappropriate?"
"Oh hell, no," said the innkeeper. "Of course, that's me speaking. If you asked my wonderful Hilda, she might say otherwise."
"I was concerned that the Argonian maid number was a little too ...," Naadia began.
"Dirty," finished Mralki. Motioning with his hands, he said, "All the great bards sell their songs with sex."
Naadia smiled and said, "You sound like Viarmo."
"Who's that," inquired Mralki.
"The Headmaster of the Bard's College in Solitude. He said almost the exact same thing," she answered.
"Well, there you go," finished Mralki, "Straight from the lips of
the
expert" and then asked, "How long have you been performing it?"
"Last night was the debut," she replied.
"Then I'm satisfied," began the Nord Innkeeper and said, "To have established the Frostfruit Inn in bardic history!"
He turned to walk away. Just then a booming roll of thunder sounded, but Naadia clearly heard, "Dovahkiin Bo," and became visibly pale.
Mralki stopped and looked up to the ceiling and said, "Oh shit! Will the rain ever end? If it doesn't stop soon we'll float away."
Composing herself, Naadia wiped her mouth and stood. "Mralki," she said, "I have some business in the area for a few days. Would you be a dear and watch my things and board my horse for me?"
She bent down and reached into one of her packs and removed a small leather pouch of gold coins and tossed it to him. "I'll be back and pick them up in a few days."
Deftly catching the bag, he weighed it in his hand and smiled. "But of course. Anything for Naadia, the Beautiful. Soon to be the most famous bard in Skyrim."
She donned her cloak and strode purposefully out the door and bounded down the steps of the inn. The hamlet of Rorikstead was just beginning to awaken for the day's business. Light rain began to pelt her, as she pulled the cowl up and over her head as she headed out of town. When she felt she was a safe distance from the town she shouted, "Wuld Nah Kest," and shot away at blinding speed.
Using the Whirlwind Sprint thu'um a few more times, placed her several miles for the rural community. Far enough away, to not frighten the locals, she thought. The Way of the Voice came in very handy from time-to-time.
She looked around to ensure no one was near. Not even a rabbit was in sight. Good she thought. She closed her eyes and centered herself. Inhaled and slowly exhaled, before speaking loudly, "Od Ah Viing! Hear my Voice and come forth. I summon you in my time of need."
She waited one minute, five minutes, ten minutes. Then in the distance to the east, she heard the roar of a dragon. In the distance coming down through the clouds was a winged shape. A dragon. His white scales almost camouflaging him in the gloom. He circled over her twice before landing near her."
He looked at her and growled, "Dovahkiin Bo Nu! Dragonborn come, you are needed."
He lowered his head toward the ground and Naadia approached. She swung a leg over his neck and took hold of his dorsal scales. Stretching his massive wings, he leapt into the sky and took flight.
With her free hand she wrapped the cloak around herself to guard against the blasts of wind and rain, as they ascended heading east, through the clouds. Few things in life worried her. Through personal study, she had learned the Dragon Tongue. The imperative words Bo - meaning come and Nu - meaning now meant her presence was immediately required atop the Throat of the World. That caused her great concern.
The Thalmor Embassy - Haafingar Hold
Justicar Aenthil Graylock was having a miserable morning. The tall Altmer glanced up from his papers to the hour glass on the corner of his desk. Once again, she was late. The Bitch, or as he was supposed to address her, Lady Elenwen, the Ambassador for the Aldmeri Dominion in Skyrim was over an hour late for their regular weekly meeting. He knew it was insubordination of the highest-degree to even think of her using that vulgar title, but he was angry. He kept his life orderly and expected that should respect that.
Angry at always having to wait. As her Chief-of-Staff, angry at always having to apologize to his subordinates on her behalf, when she was late. Lastly, he was angry at this abysmal weather. Even at Sun's Height, a thick blanket of snow and ice would cover the ground outside of his window. He was sick of Skyrim and wanted to return to Summerset Isle, never to see this place again.
He was one of the youngest senior officers in the Dominion. He was tall and good looking, with the high brows, perfectly pointed ears and regal demeanor of the High Elves. His eyes were dark and deep set and his mouth bore an almost permanent smirk - except in times such as this. He was supposed to be briefing her on the current intelligence they had received from the field and the status of the Anti-Talos campaign in Skyrim. Sadly, he chaffed at the fact he had to rotate on her axis, rather than the opposite. He had already released the senior staff, to let
them
at least be productive.
His musing was interrupted by a tapping on his door. He set the quill he was holding down and called, "Enter."
The door opened and one of the embassy guards entered carrying a scroll. "My Liege," the guard began, "A courier arrived at the gate bearing this message, saying it was urgent."
Graylock accepted the scroll and thanked the guard. He examined the seal as the guard quietly closed the door on his exit. His blood ran cold as he immediately recognized it. He pushed his chair back from his desk, exiting the room he almost ran down the hall, out into the courtyard and to headed to Elenwen's quarters.
The Ambassador merited her own spacious and multi-floored chalet, within the embassy's compound. He trudged to the door, ignoring the guards and entered, knowing he was likely to bring the fires of Oblivion down upon his head. Then took the stairs two and three at a time, as he ascended to the second floor. He purposefully walked down the elegantly appointed hall to the door of the ambassador's bed chamber. He pounded on the door and opened it, as a shrieking voice yelled, "Who dares disturb me!"
Aenthil stepped into the room and saw the Ambassador sit-up in bed, across the room, clutching the covers to her, to conceal her nudity. She stared daggers at him and quietly sneered, "Greylock, are you mad. I could have you killed for what you've just done. Disobeying my right to privacy is an affront I will not tolerate!"
Noticing that she wasn't the only occupant of the bed, he covered his eyes. There was a large lump on each side of her. By the Eight, she's not alone, he thought. His next thought was a single word. Shit!
"My most humble apologies, my Lady," the Justicar stammered, swallowing. Stumbling over his words, he continued, "My, my Lady. A courier ... Yes, a courier just delivered this urgent message. I recognized the seal and knew you would want to see it immediately."
"Set it on the table by the door and get the hell out of here," she screamed back at the top of her lungs.
He winced at the reprimand, as if struck by a whip and did as he was commanded. Backing out of the room, he quietly closed the door behind him. He was shaking and drenched with a cold sweat. Pulling at his robe's collar and wiping the back of his hand across his high forehead he said, "Well. At least I'm alive for the moment," and then returned to his office. He would try to make himself as microscopic as possible for the foreseeable future.
Inside her bed chamber, Elenwen was fuming. How dare that peon of a Justicar disturb her time of quiet reflection, she thought.
Beside her peeped a voice from under the bed covers, "Is it okay to come out now?"
"Yes. Yes," she said exasperated.
