Black Rose

- Three -

Sirithhuan walked up the wooden steps of the deck that surrounded the Black Rose Tavern and Inn in the shape of an ‘L’. As he stopped by the door, the elf glanced over to the silhouetted shape of a young woman sitting in a chair, and he could tell that she has been watching him for a while, but didn’t care if she did or not as she kept eyeing him curiously. Even in the darkness, and with the tiny amount of light that was coming from the window, he noticed the lustful grin move over her lips. He blinked once, and then twice when he felt a slight chill crawling down his body, and his heart started to beat quicker after it had calmed down from his fight.

Without speaking a word to her, and the mysterious woman kept on her suspenseful silence as she continued to stare at him, Sirithhuan looked away and pulled down the latch to open the door, and then silently entered. The woman stood, stretched out somewhat, she waited a couple of minutes before going inside.

Sirithhuan passed through the crowded tavern, looking to each occupant from beneath his hood cautiously. He ignored some of the stares from the men and women that saw him - obviously surprised by his bloodied and tattered clothing from the fight that they didn’t even know about because they were in there the whole time it occurred; which it wouldn’t be long for anyone to come in to bring word about an elf killing people and the dogs.

The place was loud with conversation, and smells of different ale and other alcoholic beverages were nearly overwhelming his acute sense of smell. He made his way light-footedly over to the bar when he saw the tender behind the counter pouring drinks for the few that had recently ordered what they had wanted. The blond elf stood between two empty stools, and slammed an opened hand against the counter-top loud enough to get the tender’s attention, and eyed the middle-aged man that came over to him.

“Hello, my lord,” said the man, “What would it…be?” He gazed at the bloodied appearance before him until he slowly lifted his eyes to the darkened features that were hidden with the shadow of the elf’s hood, and there, he could only see his mouth and barely could see the eyes that stared back spitefully. He coughed and smiled nervously, feeling a bit intimidated from the creature’s presence.

“I require a room for the night,” Sirithhuan demanded in a low whisper. He fidgeted somewhat when he didn’t receive a reply from him. “Did you hear me, old man? I said that I require a room for the night, untandtand?”

The old man tensely nodded, and opened his mouth to say something, but the elf cut him off when he lifted his head back to reveal his cold face.

“Do not ask questions of my appearance or tell anyone that I‘m here, human,” Sirithhuan retorted, slowly lifting away his hand to reveal six Mithral coins resting on the counter. “I’ll only be here for the rest of the night and leave before the sun rises tomorrow morning.” Leaning over to be close to him, he whispered slowly and very low, but not with anything positive for the man to understand. “If I learn that you didn’t keep your word, I will end your life, as will as anyone else who’s in this tavern. What say you? Speak up. ”

With a slight bow, and another nod from the man, he replied nervously, “Y-y-yes, my lord,” His voice carried a clear trust in it, and the elf nodded in acceptance to his word.

Sirithhuan then said, “I want a room with a bath, and if you could bring up clean bandages and a bowl of water too, then one would appreciate your service and kindness of helping me.” He smiled fleetingly, but it quickly became his usual menacing glare.

The bar tender sighed inwardly, trying to not feel afraid in front of the elf, so he backed away to get a key to a room, and turned back to him. “This room has a bath for you, and…” He glanced around and eyed one of his workers, the young woman that was outside of the tavern. “Brynja. She will assist you. Brynja!” He called out to her, and she went over to the bar without delay.

Brynja smiled up at Sirithhuan after the tender handed her the key. “Follow me.” She simply said, but he could hear a hint of desire in her voice. She walked away from the bar with the elf slowly following close behind her.

The two headed over to the end of the building where the large hearth that warmed the guests was, and next to it was a flight of stairs that would take them to the upper part of the tavern. The staircase was lighted with one torch in the wall that Brynja carefully grabbed a hold of, and carried it down the dark hallway. Every now and then, she glanced behind her to peer at Sirithhuan when he finally pulled back the hood. The warm glow from the torchlight danced shadows across his facial features, the firelight reflecting in his eyes.

They proceeded down the hall to the end where his was was, and when she unlocked the door and entered, she began to light some of the candles that were in several places around the room as the elf inspected it. The room was fairly large, but large enough to have enough space to walk around between the double bed that was against one wall, and the tub in the corner of the room near the door, and over by the window across from the bed was a small table with a metal bowl, a chair, and a mirror hanging on the wall above it. It also had an old, slight moldy smell to it that Sirithhuan scrunched up his nose in a silent protest, wanting to have another room, but then thought that any other room could be worse than this, or not have any of the items he needs; like the bath. His disgusted expression faded into a barren one as he looked over to Brynja as she finished lighting the fireplace with the torch.

Brynja finished and looked at him. “Do you approve, my lord?” She asked, staring at him kindly, but also wondering if she should comment on his mild injuries.

Sirithhuan surveyed the room once more before gazing back at her with his empty look on his face, and nodded. “Of course, I approve,” said Sirithhuan. Ridding of his equipment and cloak off of his back, he rested the bow and quiver against the chair, and hanged his cloak on one of the wooden post at the foot of the bed. He gazed at at her, taking his gauntlets off of his forearms. “If I didn’t then you would have known; otherwise, it‘s good enough for me to stay for tonight.” The elf stood at the end of the bed, keeping his eyes on her, but looking as if he wanted her to leave.

“I will bring the rest of what you need, my lord,” Brynja gave a bow, and left the room to get fresh water foe boe bowl first.

Sirithhuan sighed inwardly, pressing his hand over the stab wound above his hip where the man wounded him. He winced as he took off hist, at, and when he laid it on the bed, he reached inside the belt pouch to get some herbal leaves for his wounds. He went over to the table with the metal bowl on it, resting the leaves beside the basin, and began to take off his outer tunic when the young woman returned with a kettle of warm water.

Brynja studied him for a moment until she stood beside the blond elf to pour the water into the basin, but she glanced up at him when she heard the whisper of cloth hitting the floor. Her heart skipped a beat as she noticed that he was staring back at her with a cautious glare that she slowly looked away; hesitating when her eyes gaze down his light-colored tunic that was stained with blood.

As she finished pouring the warm liquid, Brynja whispered to him, “You have been injured due to the fight, my lord,” Pausing, she peered at the corner of her eye as she lifted the kettle away when she had emptied it, and then lowered it to her side. Sirithhuan stiffened, but said nothing to her, not just yet. “I will help clean your wounds. I know nothing of Elven healing, but those wounds need to be taken care of.” When she noticed his unwelcoming stare, she continued, “I assure you that I won’t tell anyone of you, but when you have rested, you must leave; no telling of how long it would be when they start searching through this town for you.”

“I can take care of myself,” retorted Sirithhuan, “These injuries aren’t much to what I have gained throughout my lifetime, and each represent what I have achieved so far in my destiny. If they find me, they find me. Nothing will change until the day that I die, woman. And I will die fighting in the matter of fact, and that day will be the best damn day of my lifetime.”

“Why would that be, my lord?”

Sirithhuan smiled at the hint of fear coming from her voice. “Death is the greatest gift for an immortal as such, and one will cherish it as much as I enjoy inflicting it among your kind.”

Brynja smiled lightly, and then she took out a couple of bottles of different colored liquid, and strips of clean rolls of cloth to bandage his wounds from the pocket of her apron. “I will return to assist you, and when you are ready, I will bring hot water for your bath.” She bowed to him again, and turned to leave. She felt a hand snatch her hair, and roughly pulled her back into the tall, lithe body of the elf that didn’t seem to enjoy having company, or help at all. Her back was pressed against his front, and she could feel his tight chest and stomach muscles pressing against her, and when he wrapped his other arm around her torso, she realized how strong he really was. She found herself relaxing in his arms, and allowed him to tilt her head to the side, and then she shivered when he breathed warm breaths of air against her exposed neckline. “What are you…?”

“Doing?” Sirithhuan finished her question, and grinned. He rested his chin against her right shoulder when he leaned into her, and reached in her apron. “Pray tell. Why would you hide a dagger in here? Don’t get me wrong, maybe for protection, but…you aren’t afraid of me are you not?” He questioned mildly with a hint of threat in his voice. The elf pulled the dagger out, and flipped it around closely in front of her eyes.

She smiled, watching her dagger moving around in his hand. “I am not afraid of you, my lord,” Brynja moved her backside closer against him, and pressed her hand over the thigh that was injured by one of the dogs. Sirithhuan didn’t wince, but she heard a quick intake of breath at the firm hold on his thigh. “It’s hard to be afraid of something that excites you to the core, don‘t you think?”

“I excite you?” Sirithhuan thought. “You’re the first human to mention that. I‘m very flattered.” He moved over to the other side of her neck, moving his hand from underneath her chin to rest against her flushed forehead. Breathing in her scent for a moment, and whispered into her ear, “As you witnessed tonight outside, I do not like humans. You humans are worthless dogs that smell like wet rats. At least you smell nice compared to the other ones that I have come across.”

Brynja sighed, lifting away her hand from hiigh,igh, and looked at the fresh blood that covered her palm. “You arouse me in a mysterious way,” She studied the thick liquid that was beginning to dry against the cool air of the room. “It must be because you’re an elf…no man has aroused me like this before, let alone killing those men and dogs while caring if you had an audience or not.”

Sirithhuan breathed out slowly, watching her as she licked his blood off of her fingers. The corner of his lips quivered slightly before forming into a crooked grin. “Does the sight and the taste of my blood excite you too?” The woman nodded, and his smile became broader.

“Will you allow me to clean your wounds?” She asked again as she wasn’t the type to take no for an answer, especially a no from him. “If so, then after I’m done helping you I will leave you in peace so that you can rest before dawn comes.”

Sirithhuan grunted, releasing his hold on her and turned her around. He studied her from head to toe before asking her, “Since you’re not afraid of me, why would you wish to help clean my wounds?”

“I am your servant for the night, my lord,” Brynja simply said.

“Servant?”

“Yes, your servant that will acquire your wants and needs,” She stepped forward, brushing her fingertip down the middle of his inner tunic. “I am yours.”

Sirithhuan eyed her, feeling her fingers move down his shirt, feeling his tight muscles underneath the garment. Her touch brought a strange sensation of sexual craving to it’s limit of where he could control it. The woman hooked the two fingers around the thin leather belt that he wore comfortably over his waist outside of the shirt, and let her hand hang from it. She kept her eyes fixed on his long enough for him to rapidly blink his eyelids over his eyes and as he tore them away. He couldn’t help but nod a ‘yes’ at her, so she smiled and walked away to close the door, and locked it for now.

Brynja returned to him where he stood silently in the same spot by the table, and began to undo the latches of his shirt one at a time. Sirithhuan watched her in a blank awe, protesting silently of her actions, and his own. Why would he let her, a human of all things, touch him like that, and to help him? He was a murderer who despised the human race more than anything. Why would he allow her to help him? Maybe it was because he wasn’t thinking rationally, and that he lost a little bit more blood than he had expected. Although, the simple answer for anyone to understand was only one word that he could come up with for now.

Desire. A fiery desire that not even him could shun away.

The wounds at his side and thigh continued to bleed through the material of his trousers and shirt, and maybe it would be better if someone would tend to them. He sighed a little, watching her with a growing interest when she stopped for a few moments to unfasten the remaining belt from his waist, and let it fall to the wooden floor. She raised her lingering eyes to meet his again; trying to avoid the firm bulge in the crotch area of his pants that she had felt when he held her from behind.

Brynja gazed away from his eyes again, and slowly parted the opening of the shirt to reveal his bare skin, but it took all of her strength to not let out her surprise gasp when she noticed all of his battle scars. She moved her hands up his stomach and chest, admiring the smoothness of his skin even though it was scarred, and the hard muscles underneath it. She moved the opening of his shirt halfway off, resting it where the upper joint of the arms and the shoulder blades meet. Next, she continued to gaze intently at his scars from blades and arrows, and several, and maybe more that she couldn’t see were lashes that looked like they were made from leather bullwhips.

“All of these scars…you’re lucky to live, my lord,” Brynja ran her hands down the length of his arms, bringing the long-sleeved shirt down to rest at his wrists for a moment until gravity took over, and the garment dropped with the sound of a mere whisper of cloth by his feet where the belt was. “Some of these looked as if they were fatal.”

“And yet, I still stand,” Sirithhuan replied in a husky voice. He caught his breath in the middle of his throat when tips of her sharp fingernails gently caressed the fresh cuts along his abdomen, and then the woman lightly prodded the stab wound above his hipbone. Sirithhuan quickly held her wrist in his hand, moving her hand away from the wound. “That hurt!” He admitted.

Brynja smiled apologetically, and he released her hand as she took another step forward. She stood close to him that he could feel her steady breathing as she breathed through parted lips over his chest while she looked up at him.

“My apologies, my lord,” She reached up to touch his blond hair as she whispered. His hair was soft and thick even though it was covered with grime and blood that stained the blond with a pinkish color. “Only checking of how bad it is. The knife must have been small, and it looks like it missed your organs, but that is all I know. I am not much of a healer to tell you the truth.” Brynja paused. “I will clean your wound up as much as I can, and then come back to fill your bath so that I can bathe you.”

Sirithhuan uttered a low laugh. “No, I do need to have help taking a bath. I’m no child,” He turned and sat on the chair, grimacing in pain. He waved his hand, adding, “I will do things myself. I’m used to it…” The elf trailed off, straightening his back to try lessening the pain at his side; groaning quietly as he prodded the wound with nimble fingers.

She sighed as she stared at him, and then went over to the bowl, grabbed one of the small bottles, and dropped three pellets of the liquid into the water from each bottle that she brought with her. After stirring the contents somewhat, she dipped the washcloth into the basin and let it soak as she grabbed the bowl carefully in both hands, and then set it on the floor beside him.

“Please go, you’re bothering me,” muttered the elf. He glared. Sirithhuan was about ready to kill her, but he felt exhausted to kill anyone, and that fight practically took a lot of energy away from him.

“I don’t take no for an answer, my lord,” Brynja smiled through her firm attitude on the stubbornness of this elf that she was feeling an attraction to. “That is how I am, and you will thank me later.”

“Fine.”

“Let me guess,” The woman sat on her knees in between his legs that she parted to easily clean his puncture wound that she thought was superficial, and she had hoped that she was right. “You had never received any aid from anyone…much less a human before?”

Sirithhuan was thinking of what other things that she could do for him, but then he shook his head to try to take away his sexual thoughts and desires from his mind. Not her. He stared at her even more, and thought that she was, well, beautiful for a human female.

“No.” He abruptly whispered hoarsely. He let out a sharp intake of breath at her touch, and she quickly looked up at him.

“Did I hurt you?” Sirithhuan shook his head again, but this time it was to answer her question, and Brynja smiled. “That’s good to know.”

Sirithhuan remembered that the old man had called her ‘Brynja’, and he played with the name silently in his head before opening his mouth to repeat what the man had called her.

“Brynja…” He sighed as he spoke out her name in a murmur. Sirithhuan narrowed his light eyebrows as he concentrated on it, and repeated it again, “Brynja…” She heard him say her name this time.

“Yes my lord?” Brynja peered at him, seemingly pleased that he memorized her name.

“The old man called you by that name,” Sirithhuan whispered thoughtfully, “Is it?”

“Aye,” Nodding, starting to feel wanted instead of being a used servant like she has been in the past. “It is, my lord.”

Sirithhuan stared at her when she continued to clean the wound with the medicine in the cloth that would disinfect the injury as it healed with his healing abilities. “It’s Norse, is it not?” It was an unusual question coming from him, but it made her smile when she nodded her head.

“You know of the Norse language?”

“Not precisely,” he said, “Though, I've studied very little of it. Brynja is an interesting name for you, what does it mean?” Sirithhuan quickly added as an after thought,” I don’t care. I’m only curious.” He shifted his eyes to his thigh that was wounded, and concentrated on that instead of looking at her as if he didn’t want to show his calm side to her, but it was beginning to be rather difficult with her gently dabbing the washcloth over the marks over his tight abdomen at the moment.

‘Seems like you do care.’ Brynja thought to herself, and smiled again. “Brynja means ‘dark’, but it’s only a name, and nothing more,” she sighed, “Servants around here receive different names, and some of the owners hope that you forget your given name, but the old man uses Brynja anyway. He’s one of the few that actually care, and let me do whatever I want only if I come to work everyday in this busy tavern.” She gazed at him for a long moment, and he caught her eye again, and then she blushed, lowering her head back to her task. “I apologize…”

The elf reached a hand over to her, his fingertips pressing against the side of her forehead, and then trailing down to the tip of her chin where he tilted her head back to look deeply into her eyes. Sirithhuan craned his neck somewhat to the side, studying her with much consideration that she had seen him when they first made eye contact with one another outside of the building.

“Brynja, why do you apologize to me so much?”

The woman opened her mouth to answer, but stopped. She kept her eyes on his, and they were tired, almost holding a distant gaze as she stared upon them. She was in awe of this tall, lithe figure before her; an elegant weapon that could kill any man at a quick speed of graceful maliciousness. However, it was the gentle touch of his ruthless hands that were tenderly resting on her skin that she was in wonder with.

Brynja swallowed, and finally answered him. “I guess I say it too often to anyone who I talk to.”

Sirithhuan tried to lean over a little, but muttered at the pain, and leaned back. “Rhach sen naeg!” He slipped into his own tongue, and the woman blinked, and then pressed the cloth over the puncture wound again. The elf was breathing hard to try to control the pain with no avail.

“What did you say, my lord?” She wondered, applying a little more pressure to the wound to stop the rest of the bleeding, and glanced at his thigh at the same time. “I think you should lay in the bed. You’ll be more comfortable there while I fix your wounds.”

The tired, miserable elf sat in the chair for a few long moments, and as she placed the washcloth back into the bowl, he complied to her suggestion. Brynja stood, placing the bowl back onto the table, and Sirithhuan tried to stand on his own, and yet, the woman ducked under his arm to help him over to the bed. He glared at her when she helped him to the bedside, and sighed as he sat on the soft mattress.

“I said, ‘curse this pain’ by the way,” Sirithhuan muttered, laying down against the cool sheets beneath him as he moved himself to lie the full length of the bed. Sighing again as he rested his head on the pillow, he watched her go back to get the bowl and her supplies.

Brynja looked at him. “I figured it was something about your pain,” She dropped the rolf clf cloth and the bottles into the pocket of her apron, and then she went to pick up the bowl. “I will return with fresh water. And while I’m away, I need for you to pull down your pants so I can tend to the wound on your thigh.”

Sirithhuan stared up at the ceiling, breathing steadily as he laid motionlessly with his arms stretched out horizontally and his legs slightly apart, appearing comfortable despite his painful state. Brynja watched his chest rise and fall calmly, and she wondered if he was starting to fall asleep, but she didn’t honestly know what to think because his eyes were open.

‘I wish I knew more about Elves,’ thought the woman when she headed quietly over to him. She was afraid to ask him, and was worried that she had annoyed him with her redundant apologies and so forth. After she placed the bowl onto the floor to check on him, she lowered herself quietly as she can onto the side of the bed, and stared into his the mysterious blue depths of his eyes that held his past of bloodshed and hate.

She waved her hand in front of his eyes, expecting them to blink from the motion, but they didn’t. Sighing, she brushed the back of her fingers affectionately over his cheek until a strong hand grabbed her hand quickly. She gasped and held her hand to her chest. His hand was still on her wrist, and he pulled it to his chest, sat up and brushed the hair away from her eyes, wincing with the pain he still felt from the gash above his hip.

Brynja moved in to kiss him passionately, but he put his fingers to her lips to stop her and brushed his other hand over her shoulder and down to cup her left breast that was hidden beneath the thin shirt she was wearing. He caressed his thumb in small circles around her firm nipple, hardening it even more as he kept her hand pressed to his chest. Sirithhuan leaned closer to her, looking as if he were about ready to pass out when he rested his head against her shoulder and moaned quietly with pain. She smiled sadly, pushing him away and clasping her other hand behind his neck to carefully lower him back down.

“Lie down,” Her voice demanded mildly. Brynja kept her hand over his chest, but slipped the other from underneath his neck to move away some loose strands of hair out of his face. She parted her lips and licked them; feeling a little awkward and shy at the moment, but continued to stare at the elf. ‘He’s certainly a lovely creature.’ She thought. She then leaned back, and moved her hand down to rest over the middle of his abdomen, and sighed.

Brynja decided to at least take off his shoes, and once she dropped them on the floor at the foot of the bed, she turned back to see if it was okay to remove his trousers. “May I?” He gave her a weak nod in return, and she proceeded to untie his pants. She untied the leather strings and loosened the waistband enough, she whispered, “I need for you to lift up a little bit so I can get these off of you, my lord.“ Sirithhuan groaned, bending his knees and lifted up slightly off of his backside enough for her to bring them down. When the garment came down his strong lean legs, the blood was sticking somewhat to the surrounding wound in his thigh and the pants where it had soaked through caused Sirithhuan to moan and curse under his breath at the pain. “Sorry…” She murmured.

The elf laid in the bed only in a pair of light greenish colored breechcloth that was covering his hips and groin area, but he didn’t seem to mind that she was still staring at him. When she realized she had been staring too long, she shook her head with her eyes closed for a moment, and then glimpsed over to his thigh wound. The canine’s teeth had punctured through the skin and started to tear at the muscle, but not enough to cause terrible injury to his leg. “I’ll come back with fresh water and with needle and some thread.” She stood with the bowl in hands, and looked curiously back at him when he made a noise.

Sirithhuan parted his lips, whispering softly, but loud enough for her ears to pick up on his hoarse voice. “I know your name, and I should apologize for being rude to you, Brynja as I have never told of mine,” He stared at her. “Sirithhuan is my name…” The elf trailed off wixhauxhaustion, trying to fight sleep.

Brynja smiled. “Thank you, Sirithhuan,” Repeating his name with a little difficulty after hearing it, but she finally achieved the right pronunciation of his Elvish name when she said it silently to herself a couple of times. “My lord. Sirithhuan.” She turned and went to the door, unlocking it and turned the knob to open the door; glancing back at him one more time before exiting to get what she needed.