Rorikstead

After days of travelling the western road, Freyja's journey had led her to Rorikstead - a small settlement, just west of Whiterun Hold near the borders of The Reach. 

The first sight that caught her eye was a gathering of villagers outside a local farm house. Their movements suggested restless shuffling - seemingly at a loss as what to do.

"Looks like something's amiss." Freyja thought.
 "Maybe they could use some help."

"Dear villagers - I am Freyja, the Dragonborn." she spoke with a strong confident voice. "What seems to be the problem?"
Startled, the villagers faced their would-be heroine with blank faces and gaping jaws. They were dumbstruck by such a sight - the Dragonborn herself - a woman of incredible beauty and the power to move mountains with her voice alone.

"We -uh, apologise, Dragonborn." the village chief spoke. "We did not expect the Dragonborn to be... such stunning a Nord woman."
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Rorik. Of Rorikstead, of course."
"And you came at a most opportune moment, Dragonborn!" Rorik said. 
The villagers - mumbling softly among themselves, their worries -  apparent only a few moments ago - seemed to ease with her sudden presence.
"How can I help?" said Freyja, her fist firmly set by her hip - ready and eager to help.
"Well, a bear - and a rather large one at that - seemed to have found its way into Ennis and Reldith's home here. And we... urm, well-"

The ferocious beast led loose a feral roar - fangs and claws bared  - clearly threatened at Freyja's presence.

"He wasn't kidding - this bear is huge." Freyja thought as she brandished her steel greatsword.
"Those claws could tear through me like butter with one swipe."
"I can't afford to be trading blows - I'll have to finish this in one move."

The bear rushed towards her with ferocity and rage, as she stood in position - ready to deliver the first and last strike. If her swing came even a split second too slow, Freyja knew that she would probably end up as the bear's new chew toy.

With perfect precision and strength, Freyja's greatsword cleaves into the bear's vulnerable throat - instantly killing the beast. The fight had only lasted three seconds - ending as quickly as it started.

"Phew, that went well." Freyja thought, rubbing her brow from battle-earned drops of sweat.
"By the Divines! You did it, Dragonborn!" Rorik said. "I don't know what we would've done! We owe you our thanks!"

Having vanquished the gigantic beast, the villagers show their appreciation to their heroine in the form of a warm hearth and bottomless flagons of mead at the Frostfruit Inn. 

"Wow, a frost troll? All by yourself? Amazing!"
Cheers and laughter filled the warm hall of Frostfruit Inn as she regaled the villagers of her exploits as the Dragonborn.
"A toast! To the Dragonborn! To her valiance!" a slightly tipsy villager roared.
"And that the Dragonborn turned out to be a hard mead-drinking Nord!" another added.
"Hear hear!"

"The mead here is pretty good." Freyja thought.

The merriment and drinking continued until the late hours of the night - till the only ones left were Freyja and the village chief, Rorik.

"I think his name was Lokir."
"Ah, young foolish Lokir." Rorik said. "It's a real shame, what happened to him."
"But come, Dragonborn, let's not delve into such gloomy affairs, with the war going on, the least we need is more talk of death."
"Have you a place to stay for the night?" Rorik asked with a warm smile. "If you don't you're more than welcome to my home."
"Thanks, but I'll get a room here in the inn. I'll be setting off tomorrow morning." Freyja said. "And besides, I wouldn't want to-"

*hic*
"- ugh. I... I feel a little-"
*hic*
"Maybe I had a little too much to drink," Freyja thought. "I'm probably going to regret this tommoro- *hic*."
"Heh, I think you need another drink, Dragonborn!" Rorik clearly amused at her tipsy stupor. "You know how the old Nord proverb goes."
"I- I think I'll *hic* pass." Freyja stammered , trying to keep the mead in.

It was only a moment later that the Dragonborn's rump met the cool, stony floor of Frostfruit Inn.
"My, my. I was getting a little worried there." Rorik grinned. 
His once warm and friendly character now replaced by a far darker one. He looked rather pleased with himself.
"You sure can drink a lot, Dragonborn. But even you have your limits."

"Especially with the canis root infused mead you just chugged down." he said smugly.
"Wasn't that hard to slip it in your drink."

Later that night, Rorik Manor. 

"A-amazing. Absolutely amazing." he could not help but remark as he motions his hips back and forth towards Freyja's crotch.
Having stripped her of her armor - and her large steel greatsword, the village chief has his way with the drunk and unconscious Dragonborn atop his pelt sheeted straw bed.

"Nghh - y-you like that, Dragonborn?" he mouths heavily, panting as he works his way on Freyja's lifeless body.
"What a ridiculously fuckable body you have."

Soon, his incomprehensible mumblings were replaced with lustful moans and wet sounds - as Rorik hungrily pounds away at Freyja's pussy. The bed shook at the same frequency of the sound of their sweat dripped crotches smacking against each other.

"B-by the gods! I'm cumming in the Dragonborn!" Rorik groaned as he let loose inside her - filling Freyja with all his hot, sticky liqiud.

The smell of sweat and sex filled Rorik Manor late into the night, as he continued to enjoy the unconscious Dragonborn over and over again.

The very next morning, Freyja wakes with only a groggy head and a slightly sore back in her room at the inn. 
"That must've been quite a night."
Having gathered her things, she sets out to continue her journey.
"Safe travels, Dragonborn!" Rorik bids farewell. "Come and see us again soon."
"Thank you, I will." Freyja smiles.
"Perhaps soon. The mead is great and the people are friendly." she thought fondly.

"Yes... do come back real soon, Dragonborn,"