A Ruckus in Riverwood

This is a work of fiction. All characters are over the age of 18. Check the tags! This story features cuckoldry, cheating, and wife sharing, though they are not the focus of the story.

A Ruckus in Riverwood

The warrior slumped to one knee on the blood-splattered path. Panting, he glanced around looking for further threats, but thank the All-Maker, found none. He surveyed the five bodies that lay strewn around him. He leaned his grandfather's greatsword against his forehead and kissed the blade. The first two road bandits had fallen quickly. Overconfident, they had come towards him close together.

The next three learned from their fallen comrade's mistake and spread out. Those men knew their business and had come at him slowly, shields raised, weapons low. They had been trained well. Their gear was a mismatch of Stormcloak and Imperial armor like most brigands those days.

He lifted his hand from his middle with a grimace and was dismayed by the amount of blood there. He also saw blood oozing from the plates of his layered pauldrons on his left shoulder. He lifted his left arm, and the pain told him that the sword had been sharp and had cut deep.

Planting the point of his sword in the earth he began to heave himself to his feet. Then a searing bolt of pain lanced through his middle and his vision swam. As darkness claimed him, his final thought was that with a civil war being waged here, it had very likely been a poor time to visit.

***

He awoke surprised to be alive. Falling in battle wasn't the goal for his people like it seemed to be with the local Nords, but still, the All-Maker would not look upon him poorly for doing so. He tried to move and groaned in pain. He heard subdued voices and the shuffle of feet. Initially alarmed, he was markedly less so when a vision of angelic beauty appeared before his eyes.

The woman was fair-skinned and blonde-haired, with a natural beauty that was amplified by her lovely smile. "You're awake. It's about time. We thought we were going to lose you a few times."

He tried to move again, and she pushed him back with a strong hand. "Don't move. If you tear out my stitches, my husband will be digging your grave by morning. Which will improve his mood not a whit." She reached to a nearby table and brought a cup of water. She fed it to him with a small spoon and looked him in the eye. "Who are you? Your armor tells us that you are no Nord."

The man smiled weakly. "I am Rael, son of Rafe, of the Skaal."

The woman's face showed her surprise. "The Skaal? Of Solstheim? Well, the stories say that we are at least cousins then, traveler." She smiled softly. "Welcome to Riverwood, Rael, son of Rafe. I am Gerdur, wife of Hod, and mother of Frodnar, the boldest ten-year-old who ever lived."

The woman disappeared behind an improvised curtain; a blanket hung on some rope. He looked around. The house was like many on this continent. It was constructed of stone to the top of the wall with a peaked thatched roof supported by strong timbers. He could hear wood burning in a hearth nearby and could smell cooking food. He lay on a cot that likely had seen generations of use, but his bedding was clean, and he drifted off to sleep with the smell of venison in his nostrils.

***

Rael awoke again, feverish. He smelled liniment and herbs in the thick poultice that was wrapped tightly around his middle. He heard voices beyond the curtain.

"That man will be joining his ancestors soon if you don't go and get her," he heard Gerdur say in hushed tones.

A man's voice replied. "Bring that witch to town? We don't need her kind."

"Damn it Hod, you were quick enough to fetch her when Frodnar got rockjoint after being bitten by that fox in your trap."

Hod growled. "He's not our people. Why did you even bring him here?"

"I found him dying in the road, surrounded by the bodies of five of Grim Jack's thugs. Such a man deserves better than to die alone on the road. Grim Jack is an enemy to every honest person in the area."

"He is not a Nord. We owe him nothing," Hod said without conviction.

Gerdur scoffed. "A fine thing from the man whose miserable life was saved twice by Faendral."

"Faendral, again!" Hod yelled. "Always you throw that fucking elf in my face. Isn't it enough that I gave him my father's house, and let him work in my mill?"

For the first time, Gerdur raised her voice. "It's my mill! Built by my grandfather! And don't you ever forget it! Now, you go get Anise or there will be a cold hearth for you for many nights to come, Hod."

Rael heard Hod's heavy steps to the door. "I never do forget it, wife. I never do."

***

"Wake up young Skaal warrior. Wielder of his grandfather's sword. Wake up and speak with old Anise." Rael heard the voice in his dreams. His eyes fluttered open.

A robed older woman sat on a stool at his bedside. The flower of her youth was wilting but it was far from withered. She was still a handsome woman. She smiled down at him. "How are you feeling, young man?"

Rael blinked. The fever was gone. The thumping headache that had been plaguing him had eased. "Much better. Are my wounds healed?" He tried to sit up but a deep soreness in his torso and shoulder told him that lying quietly remained the better option.

Anise smiled at him. "My magics and potions have cured your infection and subsequent fever. But your wounds are still deep, and care must be taken. Let yourself heal. Gerdur is a fine woman and will take good care of you despite the buffoon she married."

Rael chuckled and then groaned as he learned that even that was a poor idea at this point. Anise gently peeled back his covers and let her eyes and hands examine his wounds and his naked body. After lingering for a long moment on his cock, she met his blue eyes again.

"After you are well, young man, perhaps you will visit me in my forest home. To thank me for my help, hmm?" A hint of a smile creased her face. "Perhaps I would have some chores for you to do. It is lonely living alone and there are things I cannot do on my own."

Rael smiled. "I would be happy to do so, good shaman."

The older woman grinned and drew the covers back up. Her hand slid gently over the bulge between his legs as she did so. She patted his arm then rose without difficulty and ducked around the curtain. He heard her speaking to Gerdur.

"Continue to give him the remainder of that bottle in his water until it's gone, and for your ancestor's sake, bathe him," the wise woman said.

Gerdur stammered a bit, "I was going to but ... you know ... Hod. I didn't want him to think ..."

Anise scoffed. "Hang what he thinks. Like as not he'll spend the evening sampling Orngar's latest barrel at the Sleeping Giant, tonight as most. Send the boy to Hilde's. Let her teach him Kings and Castles. He's a smart boy, he'll catch on quick. And she will be happy for the company."

***

Rael was deeply asleep when Gerdur peeled back the covers from his naked body. Anise's potion had seen to that, as a still patient heals faster than a restless one. She looked over to see that he had been able to move enough to use the chamber pot. His wounds had been cleaned but the rest of his body was covered with dried sweat and road grime. She sat on the stool and pulled over the bucket of soap and warm water.

Her eyes roamed over his impressive physique. Riverwood was a working village. Not a fat sluggard among them, but none had a body to match this young man. Every muscle was clearly defined and well-developed. He was broad in the chest and shoulders and his thighs were like tree trunks. A couple of inches shorter than six feet, it gave him a powerful stocky appearance that was uncommon among the tall Nords. The thick, corded arms that could wield the big sword that stood in the corner, were bronzed by the sun.

She squeezed the water from her washcloth and began bathing his body. She looked at his handsome face and mane of dark brown hair. His eyes remained closed. Though she fought against it, her eyes kept coming back to his impressive cock. It lay flaccid across the top of his thigh, and she left it for last. When she picked it up in her hand and began to wash it, a shudder ran down her body. How she wanted to see it engorged and angry. She felt it stiffen in her hand and panicked for a moment. The man did not stir, nor his eyelids flutter. But her nerves got the best of her, and she finished quickly and then covered his body with the blanket again.

When she set the bucket on the table in front of the hearth, her heart was racing. She leaned against it and shuddered. She felt the wetness between her legs and moaned softly as her right hand pressed into her traitorous cleft, long ignored by her husband.

***

"Yes! That's it Hod, fuck me!" Camilla Valerius moaned softly. She lay on her back on the soft quilt, with her legs spread up in the air. Hod's eyes devoured the Imperial woman's soft, round body, so different from the other women of Riverwood. From Nord women in general. He thrust his cock forcefully and watched her big tits undulate with every impact. She turned her head as a lean, elven man slid up on the bed. Her eyes fell on his erect cock, and she smiled wantonly.

"Yes Faendral, put it in my mouth. I want both of you inside me." Grinning, the handsome elf set the head of his cock on Carmilla's plump red lips. Her lovely dark hair, so different from the fair Nords, was spread out around her beautiful face. She rolled her head back and opened her mouth wide. Faendral moaned as his cock slid into the back of her throat.

Hod growled as he watched her lips around the elf's cock. He desperately wanted this woman to himself, but the house belonged to Faendral, and the only way Camilla would consent was to have them both. "Blast that fucking Imperial slut," he thought to himself. He pulled her thighs into him and hammered into her fiercely. She stifled a wail as she reached down, began rubbing her clit, and sighed contentedly.

Truth be told, neither of these men was skilled enough to make her cum by penetration alone, but with a little help from a tongue or fingers, she'd had some marvelous orgasms with both for months. A little bottle from the hedge wizard Anise kept unwanted babies from growing in her womb. Though a few men had tried wooing her, none interested her for more than a roll in the sheets.

Camilla grasped Faendral's hairless balls with her free hand and caressed them gently. His cock pushed against the back of her throat and his fingers laced into her lustrous hair. She loved it when a man fucked her mouth. She wanted to belong to a man who could take her, dominate her, and chain her to him with his strength and will. Faendral and the young bard Sven wanted to have her, but they were not that man. Perhaps this ... Dragonborn she'd heard rumors of, would be such a man. Or perhaps the outlander at Gerdur's that everyone had been speaking of.

It wasn't long before the combined efforts of the three of them brought on a very satisfactory orgasm. Her body writhed on the sheets, and she moaned loudly around her mouthful. Until that man appeared, these provincials would have to do.

***

"So, Hod, tell us about the outlander in your home," Lucan asked offhandedly from his chair in the common room of the Sleeping Giant Inn. The fire crackled in the center of the room and the rest of the patrons lifted their heads and looked at Hod intently. The inn was a cozy place, owned and operated by a tough red-haired woman, Delphine, who was entering her middle years. The locals knew not to cross her, having seen her knock out men twice her size. The bartender was a younger, fair-minded man named Orngar. The two weren't married but shared a bed. They both listened casually from the bar.

Hod waved away the Imperial shopkeeper's question. "Bah! He has a strange accent and says he's of the Skaal of Solstheim. If you can believe that nonsense." The revelation was met with interested chatter amongst the rest of the patrons. Legends said that the Skaal had once been Nords who left this continent during a time of trouble a thousand years ago. They settled in the snowy elevations of Solstheim, an island nation across the eastern sea. They shared the island with a race of grey elves called Dunmer.

Hod's face took on a thoughtful look. "Hilde and Gerdur say he was surrounded by the bodies of five of Grim Jack's men though. And then there's his sword."

The rest of the community had heard about the five dead bandits. A soot-covered man raised his head from his ale mug. "Tell us about the weapon," said Alvor the smith. He ran his hand over his grimy beard, knowing a cold bath in the river was his next stop before returning home to his beautiful red-haired wife.

Hod frowned at the smith. The two men had been friends throughout their youth but that had ended when Alvor sided with the Imperials. Hod, a loyal Stormcloak even if not a fighting man, answered knowing another man would ask anyway. "It's huge and far lighter than it should be. The blade is made of some sort of crystal. It is wicked sharp."

"Blue," Alvor said softly.

Everyone looked at him curiously. "Huh?" said Hod dumbly.

Alvor looked at him pointedly. "The crystal. Is it pale blue? Like the forget-me-not flower?" Hod nodded. Alvor's face fell to his ale mug again and he listened as Hod continued to bellyache about having the injured man in his home. As if he was the one caring for him.

Hod laughed and raised his glass. "On the other hand, I'll bet that blade is worth a jarl's ransom. If the stranger dies, I'll be sitting pretty, I figure."

Not for the first time, Alvor glared angrily at the lumberman.

***

Gerdur finished the night's dishes and groaned as she washed her hands. The young stranger had come to occupy her every thought. His taught body with its scars and corded muscles; she imagined it leaning over her, pumping into her, his ruggedly handsome face between her hands.

She found herself at the curtain, looking down on him as he slept. She might have been able to step away until her eyes fell on the tent in the blankets covering his torso. Her breath caught in her throat and before she knew it, she was kneeling at the bedside.

She saw his erect cock twitch as she gently peeled back the blankets. She gasped and her mouth watered as she viewed the magnificent organ. Large but not too large, thick, but not too thick. "Mara, forgive me," she whispered as she reached out and caressed it gently. His cockhead was red and a bead of pre-cum formed on the tip. She glanced at his face to find a slight smile. Whatever the man was dreaming, it must have been pleasing.

Gerdur's hand grasped his cock and began to slowly stroke it. Gods! How she wanted to feel it stretching her quim, filling her to the brim. A low moan escaped the man's lips, and she stopped for a moment to see if he would wake. When he did not, her hand started again. The stranger's cock was hard and beautiful. She spat into her hand and her saliva mixed with the precum oozing from his prominent cockhead. She spread the slickness down his shaft. Her mouth watered and she wanted to feel his cock in her mouth but didn't dare.

Her hand sped up its effort but kept a gentle grip that she knew Hod had always enjoyed. A minute later the young man groaned sleepily and cum erupted from his cockhead, spilling thickly over her hand. Rael sighed in his sleep with a faint smile and began to snore softly. Gerdur smiled and drew the covers over the man's body. She returned to the hearth and cleaned up her hand with her dishrag and buried it in the laundry basket.

She threw two logs on the fire and blew out the lanterns. In the low light, she stripped off her dress and ran her hands over her body. Her body was lean and firm. Her breasts were a bit large, having nursed a hungry boy eight years ago, but they were still firm and had once turned Hod's head every evening. She slipped between the blankets and lay back on her pillow. Her fingers danced across her vulva in the well-practiced way she had grown accustomed to, but tonight her masturbatory fantasies had a new face and body. She brought her hand to her nose and inhaled the scent of the young man's cum as she slipped the fingers of her other hand into her wetness.

***

Four weeks later, Rael sat on the bench outside Hod and Gerdur's L-shaped home. From the moment he'd been able to walk again, he'd been sitting outside, enjoying the summer warmth. He'd met every citizen of Riverwood doing so, and several were regular visitors. Gerdur's ten-year-old son Frodnar had adopted him as an older brother and was always pestering him for stories of his travels. Hilde, the old woman, who with Gerdur, had rescued him from the road, found a captive audience in him for her fanciful stories and tales of her youth. The beautiful brunette Imperial, Camilla, seemed to find endless excuses to walk by even though there was nothing beyond the house but the watchman's walk, a raised platform that the soldiers from Whiterun used to look down over the town.

Alvor the smith also found an excuse that day. "Good morning, Rael, are your wounds healing well?" the man asked loudly from the road.

Rael smiled at the rough-looking blonde man. He seemed the epitome of the Nord male just as Gerdur seemed the perfect Nord woman. "Aye, Alvor, I am better every day. Would you come and sit for a while? I can see in your face that your visit has a purpose."

Alvor's face fell. "Alas boy, I am no longer welcome in this home, though I helped build it. Wars make enemies of brothers, sadly. But I'm happy to invite you to supper in my home tonight if you feel up to it."

Rael nodded and told the man that he would be glad to do so, having heard tales of his wife Sigrid's fine cooking. The smith looked at him a little sheepishly. "Would you do a craftsman a favor then?" Their eyes met and Rael nodded again. "Bring the sword with you?"

***

Rael sat on the edge of his cot as Gerdur combed his wet hair. She put the comb in her teeth and separated his long hair in her hands to begin the braid.

"Thank you for your care, dear lady. I owe you a debt I can never repay," he said softly.

Gerdur took the comb from her teeth and smiled. "Think nothing of it. I'm just doing my duty as a good Nord." She started and gasped as she felt the young warrior's calloused hand caressing her calf below the hem of her homespun dress. She slapped his shoulder half-heartedly. "Stop that. Be a gentleman."

He looked up at her and their eyes met. "I am not a gentleman." His hand slid up the inside of her leg as his other curled around the back of her thigh holding her tight. She gasped again as his strong hand squeezed the meat of her thigh.

"Oh, what are you doing? This is not proper." She whispered urgently. Her pulse raced and sweat broke out on her little nose.

His hand rose slowly until she could feel the blade of his hand pushing insistently against her labia through her undergarments. "I am returning the favor you have granted me over the last few weeks." Gerdur inhaled sharply and her face colored as she realized that he had been awake and aware enough to understand and perhaps enjoy what she'd been doing while bathing him lately.

She shuddered as she felt his strong hand slip inside the leg of her undergarments. "But that was just ... my way of easing your discomfort! From your wounds!"

"And well you have, sweet lady. But who sees to the easing of your discomfort? My ears are sharp and all I have been hearing are Hod's snores." His index finger played gently at her opening which he found slick and hungry.