Aroha Marathi

My Exterior is rough, But my Heart is soft for you.

The orcish woman stood before the exit of her temporary residence within the Silverblood Inn, her knees shaking out of anxiety. It had been the nightly ritual for the past six months of her stay in Markarth, to listen to the elven barkeep's beautiful singing as she cleaned and cooked, dutifully serving the rowdy patrons of this stone city in the Reach. Aroha always took her time while eating her meals, stealing adoring glances towards the gorgeous young woman when she wasn't looking, only to quickly look away when dark eyes found her gold ones.
However, tonight was different, tonight Aroha wanted to try something new.. To do something she was terrified of showing to anyone else.
Aroha, wanted to sing for this woman, a serenade of sorts. The orc loved to sing, but never fancied herself good enough to sing for anyone else, except close family and friends. Alas, love makes one do crazy things, and crazy in this situation, took the form of Aroha working extra hours to pay for the local bard, Ogmund, to teach her how to perfect her singing, just for this moment.
So, instead of Ogmund singing for the fredas dinner rush, he was introducing his newest "protégé" as he called it.
"Now," The old nord's voice boomed over the clamor of hungry and irritable voices that swirled through the musty air. "She may not look like much, but don't discount her based on appearances! This old skald has trained her well, and I am quite sure her performance will enamor at least one of these fine lads!"
A brief pause occurred in his voice, before he added in a much quieter tone; "Or a particularly fine young lady. May I present to you, Aroha Marathi!"
A fluttering heat began to spread across her green cheeks, as Aroha stepped out into the hallway, holding her head as high as she could, in an attempt to squash any urge to run through the big golden doors of the exit of the Inn. The black and blue masculine tunic she wore shuffled against her arms just enough to give her something else to focus on, besides the piercing gazes of the onlookers and gawkers of the tavern.
When she reached Ogmund's side, located directly in front of the fireplace, her gaze dropped out of shyness, as she began to awkwardly rub at her exposed forearms. Beside her, Ogmund whispered encouragingly, cradling a lute against his chest as he prepared for the orc to begin.
"You can do it, dear. Just tell them what song you will be singing, and let your voice be heard."
Nodding, the orc looked up, making eye contact with the high elven barmaid, her gold orbs softening as they met the dark green ones of the much taller woman.
"The song that I will be singing, is called Tripping."
Taking a deep breath, Aroha felt her voice rise from the one that shook her throat, to the one that vibrated her cheekbones.

Just like she told you.

"We watch a star
Collapse right on the back of
Tumbling waves
Your cheek upon my face
We speak these words
Afraid of nothing
And the demon heard
But we're, not of that culture..

And I will be, your love, oh sweet,
Gods bless the ones, who burned my feet,
That I, should trip and fall for you
Believe I am, your lover..

When you were six
Your dream, I was in it
The one with green
And winding paths to seas
They swallow whole
The beast, the bright they stole
And from the beach
We lie and watch it bleed

And I will be, your love, oh sweet
Gods bless the ones, who burned my feet,
That I should trip, and fall for you,
Believe I am, your lover.."