The Solitary Arrow Ch. 10

He moved his tongue slowly and forcefully over her inner folds, then into her vagina. She gasped as he pulled out and sucked directly on her sensitive little knob of a clitoris.

"Harlen, that feels so wondrous." She said, watching him as he slid his tongue over the whole area, his eyes shut and obviously enjoying himself.

He lifted up a moment. "It tastes the same, my love." He said, and buried his mouth and tongue between her upraised thighs. She smiled widely as she could feel herself begin the slow climb to release, and intended to savor every inch going up the hill. Harlen had moved a bit around, and she found she could reach his swollen cock from where she lay, and did so. Wrapping her cool, slim fingers around his engorged shaft. Slowly, she stroked the organ, watching in fascination as the skin slid over it, and how supple and soft it was. She liked squeezing hard, and watching the head turn purple and swell, and the veins on the sides bulge in tension. A shiver ran through her as her pleasure from his tongue's ministrations mounted higher on her climbing ascent.

She started twisting around herself, and managed to get close enough to his pelvis to take the head of his manhood into her mouth. She lapped at the head with her small, quick tongue, and felt it twitching in time with her tune. Harlen moaned as she began applying soft suction to him, and they began to time their strokes and tongue movements together. Her hand moved from his head to his scrotum and started gently rolling his testicles around within the loose skin. She began to taste the saltiness that meant his climax was nearing, and began to apply her tongue even faster, determined to bring him to a finish before he did so to her, but she was not at all sure she could, she was very near herself, beginning to gasp for air and move her hips in response to his motions.

She felt her orgasm grip her, and her legs stiffened, clamping onto the sides of Harlen's head, and holding him in place while he continued to lick her, he lapped frantically as she writhed through the orgasm, intensifying the sensations as he moved his tongue over her clitoris.

Then she tasted his seed flooding her waiting mouth. She swallowed greedily, now used to the act, and not at all bothered any longer by the taste. It was not disagreeable, and he enjoyed it a lot, so it made it a good thing in her mind, and something to not be bothered by.

When he finished spending himself, and she felt him going soft, even under her fast tongue, she slipped her lips from him. "That is better." She concluded. "With one more full day after today to wait, I was going to burst if someone did not reach their pinnacle.

He chuckled as he left off lapping at her, and his head rested on her thigh. "Well, now we have both done so, therefore we should be good to go until day after tomorrow.

She nodded. "I do not wish to wait, but think we should."

He agreed, but said. "Yes, but very first thing in the morning, I think would be wise."

She giggled. "To prevent interruptions?"

He rubbed her thigh with his hand. "Exactly." He said. "I do not want something else to get in the way."

She sat up and stroked his hair with her narrow fingers. "Agreed, my lover, as soon as we awaken."

They both shifted around and laid on their pillows. Hyandai did not use a pillow as she slept, though, she preferred his arm, and insisted on it, for going to sleep, at least, and became quite vexed if he tried to avoid it.

They laid there a short while, with the light orb in its pouch. Then Harlen said. "Did you mean what you said about betrothal?"

She looked at him in the dark, seeing him perfectly well, and knowing she was just an indistinct blur in the dark to him. "Yes, my love, of course I meant it."

He smiled. "Is there something we need to do?"

She touched his lips with her fingertips. "A small ceremony, at least to my people it is small, but I understand your folk have one, also."

He nodded. "But it is just for permanent marriages, not engagements, which is what we call your betrothal."

She nodded. "I understand, but there is no ceremony for engagement?" She asked.

He said. "Not really, the man just asks and the woman accepts or not." He kissed her forehead. "I hope you will accept."

"I already have." She said, smiling broadly. "I accepted almost a week ago, someone should have told you."

He embraced her close and inhaled deeply through her hair, sighing it back out. "Yeah, they should have." He said quietly.

---

The morning was better than before, but there was still some threat of rain in the air. Heavy clouds scuttled overhead, but there were breaks in them, and no rain was falling as they awoke. Harlen still embracing his lovely companion, and she curled up in a small package in front of him. She uncurled and smiled at him. "Good morrow, my lover." She said, kissing his nose.

He yawned and said. "And to you, angel of the morning."

She giggled. "I thought I was a soul-sucking demoness?"

"Only when parts of me are asking favors." He replied, grinning widely.

She groped the parts in question and asked, "And this morning it desires me not?"

"Oh," Harlen said, looking very serious, "it desires you, very much, but it desires other than your mouth when next it enters you."

She grinned lasciviously. "There ARE other possibilities, you know?" Her golden eyes were beginning to turn a bright bronze.

Harlen laughed. "Ho, ho." He said. "And now you wish to try something like that?" He said, touching her hip gently.

She shrugged. "Why not?" She asked, her eyebrows lifted. "I was not injured there in any way."

The hunter kissed her brow. "No, my dearest. If you wish it another time, after we have made love as we await, then perhaps we will try that." He said. "But next time I enjoy pleasures with you, I want it to be in the way people are truly meant to."

She smiled. "Very well, but I did offer." She said, taking hold of his hand and moving it onto her upturned rump. "It may be an offer long in the coming again." She giggled.

He looked thoughtful then said. "I would like to wait, my love."

She giggled again. "Very well." She said and rolled over and sat up. "Then what are we to do?" She glanced mischievously back over her shoulder. "Perhaps I should go bother poor Trevir some more?"

Harlen rolled behind her and grabbed her waist. "You already have that poor lad seeing stars all hours of the day, my sweet, don't torment him."

She pouted. "But I must do something naughty." She said, looking up at him with a somewhat dark expression, though her smile remained in place. "Really, I must."

Harlen kept his face placid while thinking about her fey and how it would rear its head from time to time. Was this one of them? He looked down into her eyes, and she softened her smile, but the eyes remained intense. "Very well, my love, I will resist myself, this once." She said, standing and regarding herself in the mirror. "We should not make this a common thing." She said, running her hand down her belly and over the folds of her pubic mound.

He watched in fascination as she licked her lips then opened her mouth part way and her fingers rubbed over her own clitoris. She did not even notice him staring, now, so far gone as she was. A sigh escaped her throat and she leaned forward a bit, and he could now see between her legs, that she had two fingers nestled between her labia, entering herself. Her legs trembled a bit, and she gave a sizable twitch with her whole body. She turned about to him, and looked down at his reclining figure.

"It is hard to fight my fey, Harlen." She said. "And somewhat foolish to try." Her expression was strained. Her fingers were still imbedded in her small slit. "I do not know why it is so active of late, possibly hormones from that unwanted seed, or it could be the general tension I have felt for these days." She pulled the fingers from herself, and licked them. "But, it is active, and it is not a contest I relish." She sat back on the bed, her eyes slowly shifting back to their normal golden color. "I am sorry, my love, but if you would cleave to me, you will need to accept that part of me."

He watched her calm. "What did you do when it happened before me, or Eleean?" He asked.

She smiled darkly. "Eleean never saw it." She said. "As a child, of course, it never manifested in anything beyond a curiosity about sexual things." Her lips pursed. "But, since I was of age," she said, "it has led me to some rather odd situations. I was a maiden, that is the truth, but there are other things a fey can drive one to." She looked at her reflection in the mirror. "Things I will not discuss with anyone save my husband, when I am bound for life."

He nodded. "Fair enough." He said, kissing her cheek. "I shouldn't have asked."

"I understand your interest, as I am currently your concern." She said, smiling, and standing again. "But I will say none of it is terribly bad, but all of it may be terribly embarrassing to me." She began to dress in her doeskin clothes. "Today, I wish to see your grand mother again." She said, flatly. "Will that be acceptable?" She asked.

"Of course." Harlen answered. "She would probably love to see you."

She looked at him with sad eyes now. "I would ask you to lie to her." She said, then looked down. "I hate to do that, but I must."

He nodded. "About the night-orb?" He asked.

She looked up again. "Yes." She replied. "I will tell her I miscarried, as is somewhat common among human and elf conceptions."

Harlen said. "I understand that. Yes, a little lie would probably serve best, and if she has heard rumor of the visit to the Sorceress, it was regarding the miscarriage, trying to prevent it."

She nodded. "Good. Much as I hate to lie, especially to your gramma, it is something I think best. She believed it to be yours, and I implied that it was most welcome."

He nodded. "I sort of thought it went like that." He said. He chewed his lip. We'll go over after lunch."

---

They sat in his gramma's tiny common room and the elder woman fussed over the elven girl. "You poor thing." She said, her face the very picture of concern. "I hope it wasn't too painful for you." She was near to tears.

"No, gramma." Hyandai said, looking at the floor. "It was painless, actually, as it was too small for me to even feel."

Gramma patted her shoulder. "I meant in your heart." She said.

"Well, my heart is troubled over it, but I will be okay, with time." She said, taking Harlen's hand into her own.

Harlen looked extremely uncomfortable, luckily gramma took it as upset over what had happened. "Don't you two worry." She said, trying to put on a happy grin, despite the terrible news she had just received. "You're both young and healthy, and if a child is what you want, I am sure you will be blessed by the One with a beautiful one."

Hyandai nodded and smiled at her, then turned toward Harlen. "I seek a child very much, gramma." She said. "Though we had not really spoken of it."

His rather dour countenance changed almost instantly to one of unrehearsed surprise. "You do?" He asked.

She kissed his wrist. "Yes, my love, I do. Though I think that we should wait until later."

He nodded agreement, then smiled lopsidedly. "Whenever you're ready." He said, and earned a cuffing on the back of the head.

"Mind your manners, you whelp." His gramma said, but was smiling, too. You two should speak to Father Tegmar, if you're serious about such things."

Hyandai asked. "Is he the priest of the One in this town?"

Gramma said. "He is. He is a good man, and will give you both guidance on the matter, I am sure, wise guidance."

They spoke for about an hour after, with Hyandai making sure of her lack of pregnancy by picking up the night-orb twice. It stayed flat and black both times. "Harlen's gramma clucked at her the second time, gently taking it from her fingers. "You stop that, now." She said. "Do not rush yourself."

They stopped by the Pierced Boar on the way home and had wine and some rather bland lamb with potatoes. Tammer was in top form, pouring drinks for the rather dense crowd this night. Harlen noticed a lot of people from out of town among the crowd. "What goes?" He asked the old man, eyeing the newcomers.

"Trouble in the hills north ways." Tammer said. "The orcs have gotten bold up there, and raided some homesteads and even one hamlet, if you'll believe it." He leaned in close. "One of the Duke's patrols captured one of the brutes and they managed to get it to talk. There's rumor among the orcs of a new boss in the hills, and he's organizing them under one banner."

Hyandai looked very nervous. "That does not bode well for my mission." She said. "Those orcs were already organized more than is good for them, if they are becoming more so, slipping past those hills is going to be very hard, indeed."

Harlen nodded. "Well, if they can be sneaked around, I will get us around them."

She touched his arm. "You are certain you can?" She asked.

"No." He said. "But I promised I would help you, and I will."

They finished their drinks in silence, and watched the crowd. Some of the people were quite upset and trying to drown their sorrows in beer, or brandy. They were the ones who lost kinfolk or friends, and Harlen felt pity for them. One looked up at them, though, and saw Hyandai as she brushed her hair back from her face, exposing one of her ears fully. His eyes widened.

Harlen thought he would cry out, but he did not, he came over quietly to their table and begged leave to sit. The hunter, nor the elf could bring themselves to deny someone with such sorrow etched into their face, and they assented.

The man sat, he was older than Harlen, but hardly an old man. His eyes were blue, and he had long, shaggy, brown hair. "Miss." He said. "I saw you're elvenborn." He looked at her hopefully. "May I beg a boon of you?"

She smiled gently and nodded. "If it be in my ability, I will grant it." She said.

The man looked back to the table he was at, a woman stood from there, about his age, and walked over and sat at the last chair at their table. Once she sat, the man asked. "Will you make a dirge for my daughter?" His face was full of both hope and pain. "She was slain yesterday by those orcs in the hills." His wife began to cry openly, weeping and sniffing.

Hyandai smiled gently. "Of course I will, though I am no minstrel and I cannot promise the quality she deserves."

He smiled at her. "You're elvenborn, it will be more than adequate." He said, holding his wife's hand under the table.

Hyandai leaned forward and said. "Look into my eyes, and think of your daughter." She stared intently at the man for almost a minute, then at the wife for a similar time. Harlen was fascinated, watching as she gently probed their minds, not invading it like she had his, but looking here and there, like someone searching a house, rather than moving into it and clearing out all the furniture. She only took what she needed, and it was always just information, not the items themselves.

Finally, she leaned back and said. "Give me a few moments." Her eyes closed and she started moving her lips, as if speaking to herself. She opened her eyes after almost five minutes. "I am ready." She said. She gestured to Tammer, who came right over at her beckoning.

"Yes, Miss Hyandai?" He asked solicitously.

She indicated the couple with a wave of her hand. "These fine folk have asked that I dirge for their daughter, do you mind?"

Tammer's eyes widened. "I would never." He said, almost looking offended. "If someone deserves a dirge, then by the One, it'll be heard." He stood from their table and yelled at the crowd for silence. The noise abated to about half the former level, but he was obliged to yell again, and employ some rather creative vocabulary to inspire people to the proper level of respectful silence. "You will shut your cob-slobbering yap traps, you smelly lot, else I'll start cracking skulls!" The room was as quiet as anywhere fifty or so people stood in could be.

Hyandai stood from the chair and walked to the bar. Tammer helped her to stand upon it, climbing carefully up. She brushed her hair back from her face, a murmur ran through the crowd. She swallowed visably. "I have been asked by a kind man and his lovely wife to sing a song for their daughter, dead at the bloody hands of the orcs of the hills." She said, looking at the couple. "Some of the elder of you have heard an elven dirge before, and know it is akin to part of the person being sung of. I would ask that you listen and think on the girl that died, and remember her with joy."

The air was dead silent as she finished speaking. Her voice started off low and soft, and her eyes closed. There was a feeling in the sounds she was making. It was not words, for there were no words to describe what she was saying. Her voice climbed slowly and it carried the sense of youth and of innocence and it carried within its tones the horror of the girl's death. She had been only ten, the sound said, and she was not ready to be taken from the world. Her tones filled the room, as if it were a auditorium meant to be sung in. Her voice was powerful, and it gained volume and strength as she sang, and her heart felt the agony of the parents. She had tears rolling down her face as she began to sing of the joys the girl had felt and brought to those around her.

The people in the crowd could see the child, a little girl with light brown hair and big green eyes. They saw her playing and working and hugging and being loved. Many of the people hearing it cried, some of them smiled, a few actually laughed, watching her learn to walk and watching her get her first kiss stolen from her by a boy from the next farmstead. They even felt the discipline of her being punished for being bad, and rewarded when she did well. The dirge left no subject of her short life untouched completely, and took the listener into the girl's life, not just the good, but the bad, and the unfortunate, and the ecstatic. They saw the mother holding her to her breast, and the father seeing her for the first time after her birthing. The notes carried all this, the tones defined it, and the harmonics gave it sharpness. It wound its way into the listeners' hearts and pierced them, and filled them with both joy and grief for the life cut short.

She began to wind down the song, and the images became more nebulous, and indistinct. A vague image of a young woman, standing in a field, tall and pretty, and with light brown hair, and green eyes, and a wide smile, a woman that might have been. She ended on a long note that emptied the scene, and everyone saw the room form around them again.

Tammer was the cagy one, and he knew what to expect next. As Hyandai collapsed, he caught her in his still strong arms, and brought her down from the bar and sat her on her chair. "It takes it out of them to do that." He said, and looked at Harlen. "She'll be fine in a few minutes, but she may be tired the rest of the evening."

Her golden eyes fluttered open a few minutes later, and she smiled faintly. "I should have warned you about that." She said to Harlen. "At elven funerals there are ushers who stand by just for that." She looked at the couple. "Thank you." She said to them.

They were both beaming happily. "Why do you thank us?" The man asked. "It was you who granted the boon." He added.

She smiled at them. "But you asked it of me." She replied. "You wanted me to do it, and it was an honor." She patted Harlen's worried hand on her shoulder. "You honored me by trusting me with her memories."

The crowd was quiet still, murmuring here and there, and mostly just drying tears and several fathers felt the urge to leave, to go home and be with their families. Harlen, himself, wanted to check on Trevir as he sat. The couple thanked her again and went out the door, to wherever they would stay the night.