The Solitary Arrow Ch. 11

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He started stroking the little button, and watched as she rocked back taking his whole length into her, her muscles were not as finely tuned back there, but the opening was tighter, and could clamp down much harder, as she demonstrated as she ground herself into a painful and slow orgasm. When it was done with her, she collapsed onto his chest. She laid there panting, his thick pole still impaling her anus, and spreading its tight little ring open wide. She reached back and felt around it and said. "That was a bit foolish of me." She smiled at Harlen. "I may walk oddly later, you are not to laugh." She said, then lifted up and off of his still rigid cock. A look of utter relief crossed her face when it was out of her. "Well, that was definitely different." She said, smiling at him. She stood up and held out her hand. "Come, my lover."

He walked downstairs with her, and despite her claim, her walk was anything but humorous. He followed her slowly swaying bottom down the stairs, admiring the grace and intentionally wasted energy that went into that walk. It was a gait designed to arouse, and entice, and it worked perfectly, his cock stayed rigid for the trek to the hot bath, and as they slipped into the water, she washed it gently with her hands, then rinsed it with hot water.

She said. "Sit on the edge, my beloved." And Harlen sat up on the lip of the massive wooden tub. She stood between his knees, dangling into the water, his organ stiff in his lap. She moved forward and took him into her soft mouth, crouching low in the water. He watched in fascination as she took him down her throat, straightening her long, slim neck. Soon, his pubic hairs tickled her cute nose, and she started to move her head back and forth. He groaned loudly as she swallowed him whole each time, then felt his release building up for a climax. She soon had him coming into her, and seemed well satisfied with herself as she drank the last drops of his spend. She looked up at him, her tongue gently licking her soft lips. "Now, I think we are done for the morning." She declared. Kissing the head of his deflating pole. "Lest you desire another go?"

He shook his head. "I will do what you wish in this matter, Hyandai." He said, lifting her and kissing her deeply. He tasted his semen in her warm mouth, but minded it little, she seemed little hesitant of tasting herself, either. They then embraced for a long moment, gazing into one another's eyes. Her eyes were somehow more beautiful now than when their hue was golden. She smiled a soft smile, softer than he had ever seen.

"I hope that you are not only fascinated by what you think is my elven beauty." She said to him. "I have no intent of letting you go from me." She added, smiling up at him.

He kissed her brow then said. "I think my feelings for you are beyond that, my sweet angel. The first days, I may have been smitten with your grace and loveliness. But have I not now seen you in darker light, and less than idyllic situations?"

She kissed his neck. "You have, Harlen, and you have not forsaken me, even then." She pulled him into the water, and kissed him, sliding her small tongue into his mouth. He felt her playing with his hairs her clever little fingers toying with it. "Do you still wish to betroth me, my lover?" She asked, her tone was now more calm, and delivered with a precision she had been slipping of late, her speech was more and more sounding like his own.

He said. "Yes. Of course I do, Hiandai." She smiled, then he felt a small twinge of pain at his scalp. He reached up and found her fingers there, and they were warm, exceedingly so. He pulled his hand back down. "What was that?" He asked her.

She pulled away from his face and he looked at her. To the left of her beautiful face was a long plait of woven hair, her lovely sunburst red was interwoven with strands of his own dark brown color. She held in her hand another plait, this one his own, and made up mostly of the dark brown, with strands of her red woven into it.

"Are we..." He started asking.

She kissed him. Then pulled again from his kiss. "Yes, my betrothed." She said. "For one year and one day, I am obliged to remain by your side, and you mine."

"What then?" He asked.

She touched her plait, "Then this will either come out or become part of me forever." She said. "We will decide one year and one day from now."

He nodded, pretty certain what his choice in that matter would be. She felt his large hands wrapping about her slim waist. "I would today, if you would allow me to." He said.

She giggled. "I cannot, though, the betrothal is an important stage toward marriage." She said, touching the plaited hair on the side of her head, then lifting it to look upon it. "Our hair blends beautifully, though." She said, a smile playing on her face. As they left the tub, exhausted and hungry, she touched his back gently. "I hope you never feel you have made a mistake." She said.

"I will not, my betrothed." He said, smiling at her over her shoulder. Then he turned about and knelt before her. Taking her small, slender hand he kissed her palm and said. "I would be and am honored to be your betrothed, even should you choose not to wed me, ultimately."

She touched his face, and knelt down in front of him, their faces nearly level with one another. "I do not foresee me selecting that option." They went to the kitchen and found a huge bowl of fruit, already peeled and diced into cubes. Trevir had wakened early this morning, and had left them breakfast.

As they ate the fruit squares and wedges, they talked about many things, including the upcoming year, and Trevir's obvious love for both of them.

The sun was shining this morning, and the beams played games amidst the dust motes in the room, sparkling like miniatures of the night sky. It was after three in the afternoon. She sat and watched him fidget a moment, unsure of what to do. "Harlen, do you wish to go work?" She asked. He nodded pitifully.

She smiled widely at that. "Go then, my betrothed." She giggled. "I can entertain myself for a while." He sheepishly got up and shuffled to his workshop. She shooed him with her hands, still laughing. After he had entered, she rose from the stool and walked through the bathing room, then into the back yard. As she crossed the small courtyard, she tried to clear her mind. She walked up to the small altar that Trevir had built for her.

She knelt before it, and touched her hands to the altar. Her eyes shut in the effort to clear her mind, then she started to sing. This song was very different from the others she had performed of late, its tones ethereal and otherworldly, almost not like a humanoid voice at all, but the sounds one might hear when in a windy night in the wood, or perhaps surrounded by whistling wind chimes. It reached a tonal quality that filled the yard and reverberated from the trees and buildings around her. Her body stiffened as the Spirits took hold of her, and guided her mind to the places she needed to find. Had Harlen been with her, he would have recognized her expression from their lovemaking sessions. She was feeling intense pleasure, but not sexual, it was a spiritual pleasure, a release of guilt and anxiety and hostility at the world that had placed her at an impasse, where she must choose to risk the life of the man she loved or give up her clan's hope of recovering what they lost, and sorely needed.

The Spirits showed her many things in her mind, all things she already knew and needed reminding of. They could not show her new things, nor things she would see in the future, only what she had already known, but somehow had not put to the front of her mind. Harlen's attempts at heroism for her benefit flashed across her mind. He as a competent fighting man, but untrained in the finer points of combat. He also had a fierce pride and independence that he was suppressing to make her happy and give her solace. She knew he loved her fully, and with all his large heart, and he would die for her if need be. That is what she dreaded. The spirits faced her with the witch, and of him bedding her in her mind's eye, and of his attempts, even under her spells to try to do the best he could in being fair to Hyandai, who at that moment, seemed to have abandoned him in him befuddled mind.

She then saw him hunting, a scene she had never seen, but knew had happened in his past, he was a hunter after all. Her imagination had little trouble conjuring up such an image as that. He was a huntsman, after all, and his skill at that seemed excellent, indeed, as his wealth, despite giving a goodly share to Trevir and his mother, attested to. She realized with a shock that she had not been the only person not doing what they should within this scenario they were thrust into, but he was, as well.

His nature was a huntsman, a stalker and efficient killer, not a warrior and defender. Their path was chosen in that flash of insight, and she hardened her heart to the fears that still lingered. They cried that he might be killed, and she replied that he might be killed any time by a bear, wolf, or bandits. No the fears and doubts could not be given sway on her choice. This was the man the seer had seen in her visions, and Hyandai was the woman, and they were to win the Elhadrel from the clutches of whomever had stolen it. This last secret she must confess to her mate now, she thought, that she knew how to find the weapon, and had always known.

She gracefully rose from her kneeling position and gave deep thanks to the Spirits for guiding her, bowing low to the altar. She turned and walked into the house again, her head now high, and her gaze purposeful. Harlen was hunched over his work bench, working at something with intense concentration. As she walked up to him, he turned to her, he had dressed again, at least he had donned pants. As she neared him he turned and said. "Turn about, my lover." She stopped flat for a moment, then turned and put her back to him. He draped the object he had been sewing over her shoulders. It was a cloak, made from supple doeskin, and lined on the inside with the green cloth he was going to make her other garments from. The skin had been died a similar shade of green and was designed with intentional discolorations in it to break up its even shade. "It will help you to blend into the bushes in the wood." He said. She had seen cloaks like this, worn by the scouts of Windir, but theirs relied upon magic and she had never seen one made without its inclusion. She looked over her shoulder at it, and the subtle pattern seemed to shimmer as she looked, changing. Her eyes did not like to focus upon it.

Her expression changed to one of perplexity. "What is this, my betrothed." She asked. "I was given to understand you knew no magics, yet you weave them into this cloak?"

His expression now changed. "What?" He said. "There is no magic upon this, Hyandai, It is just my hands, and some tricks of the eye that I learned at Tammer's 'gentle' hand."

She laughed at that. "My dear man, there is magic and there is magic." She lifted the cloak from her shoulders. "There is enchantment on this fine garment." She concluded, holding it out to look at it at arm's length. She could see how the little patches were sewn to throw the eye into different directions by the grain of the leather, and the color of the dye, and the very shape of the little shapes that formed the overall cloak. She smiled at him. "The magic here is the most powerful sort there is, it makes the mind ensorcel itself, and bewilders the eye without the mind being able to stop it."

Harlen laughed now. "Tammer called it 'optic deception.'" He pointed to an identical, but larger cloak hanging on the wall. "If we're to go through orcish country, I wish no more accidental encounters." He took the cloak from her fingers and did something to it, flipping it inside out, and the inside was done up in similar shades of gray and earthy brown. "When we enter the hills, we change to this." He explained as he let her examine it, as well.

She smiled. "That is what I came here to speak of." She said. "I wish to tell you I know how to find that which I seek, if not exactly where."

His expression again changed to one of curiosity. "And how is that?" He asked.

Her necklace appeared again. "This guides me in it, it can feel our clan's heirloom and tells me if I face toward it." She held it out from herself, then turned slowly, until she faced just north of east. "It lies that way." She said. "A good fifty miles from here, but in that direction.

He nodded. "That will be far into the mountains." He said. "You are certain of this?"

She touched his hand. "Yes, Harlen, I am certain. Are you certain you wish to risk all on some heirloom of an elven clan?"

He grinned. "I've risked all for less, already. This is a cause worthy of risk." He said. "I accept the danger freely, especially considering the prize that your clan has graced my life with." He smiled, then kissed her gently.

"When do you wish to leave?" He asked her, a wide smile on his face.

She looked at him curiously. "The day following tomorrow?" She replied, but said it as if not really sure.

He nodded. "Very well, then, I will begin preparation for our little journey." He bowed to her like a servant and went to his task of packing small items into his small leather knapsack. He produced a second sack, slightly smaller than his and made the same, and newly crafted. He directed her what to load into it, handing her some of the items she would need. It was amazing the sheer number of small items he directed into her pack. She wondered idly if there would be anything left in the house when they were finished.

While they were packing Trevir came running in. "They're mustering the army!" He said excitedly. "The duke is going to go to war with the orcs, he says that they're growing too bold and must be dealt with."

Harlen got a very sour look on his face. "It's about time." He muttered, and Hyandai flinched at the cold and dark tone of his voice.

"They're to march in the hour, and will be passing this way, Harlen." The child continued, undaunted by his mentor's sudden foul mood. "We should go watch them march by."

Harlen nodded. "I suppose we should see the lads off, since some won't come home." He looked at Hyandai. "We leave this afternoon, then." He said to her.

She tilted her head and regarded him. "Why so soon?" She asked.

He nodded toward the village. "If we follow in the path of an army, we should come across fewer orcs." He said. "And the ones we might come across will be bunched into large groups and more easily avoided." He added. Then started dragging out more of his 'work' gear, his rawhide jerkin and heavy linen pants and his brown leather boots, all cleaned now, and mended of their rents and tears. He also laid out their new cloaks.

Trevir ooh'ed at the cloaks and said. "Those look like the one's that Tammer sells to the hunters, Harlen, only they're prettier." He looked at one appreciatively, touching the leather and examining the stitchwork closely. "You made these!" He exclaimed, inordinately excited about it. "You're turning form a hunter to a tailor." He accused, smiling broadly.

"Only to make a hunting tool, Master Trevir." Harlen said. He handed the boy a small pouch of silver. "Keep the house well while we are gone. I know not how long we will be." He finally added. "If we are gone more than a month, speak to Tammer of it, and he will give you further instructions."

The boy nodded soberly. "All right Harlen." He said, and there were tears welling in his green eyes. Hyandai walked to him, and looked him face to face. "Fret not, handsome Trevir." She smiled at him gently. "We will return soon." She kissed him softly on the lips, and embraced him. Harlen patted his shoulder as he passed, and the two headed out to watch the parade, then to leave themselves in its wake.

They heard the tramp of many feet as they left the house, and the vanguard of the army was marching past the house as they reached the fence separating his yard from the gravel of the road. There were over a thousand of them, wearing the colors of the Duchy of Morrovale, purple and gold. Banners flew before each of the five companies, flapping loudly in the northerly wind. Harlen placed his hand upon his chest as they passed and bowed his head. Many soldiers nodded as they went by, and the ones who realized they looked upon an elven lass waved at her. Hyandai waved back and smiled, then bowed onto one knee for the passing soldiery. Harlen pulled Trevir down beside her.

"Why am I bowing?" He asked his mentor.

Harlen whispered. "To pay respect to those who may die defending you from the orc hoards."

The lad nodded soberly at that. "Oh." He said quietly, with wide eyes. "Why aren't you on one knee, then?"

Harlen smiled. "I've earned the right to stand before soldiers, I was one, once." He said.

The troops filed past, then the cavalry. Followed by the Dukes knights, thirty men, clad in fine, gleaming plate armor, mounted on massive shaggy horses with their own armor cladding as well. Harlen now knelt beside Trevir and Hyandai, as he was no equal of a knight in status.

The knights smiled as they rode past, speaking at ease with one another. One saw Hyandai kneeling there by the fence and pulled to the side of the moving line. "Milady." He said, a tone of alarm in his voice. "Surely, you need not kneel to mere knights, you are elvenborn."

She looked up to him. "I am but a commoner, I am betrothed to this man, and would not presume to rise above my station." She nodded toward Harlen.

The knight smiled down. "If you wish to pretend so, then." He said, and chuckled. "But I would say that in this case, rather than lowering your station, milady, which I am unsure is possible, you have elevated his." He leaned over in his saddle to an angle that looked dangerously precarious. "Congratulations, Master Harlen, she is a fine catch of a woman, I envy you." He said to the huntsman.

Harlen nodded and smiled. He reached out and took Hyandai's hand and said. "Thank you Sir Tendall, I consider myself very lucky, indeed." Harlen said, with no sound of lightness in his voice.

Tendall nudged his warhorse into a trot and caught up with the other knights.

Now passing was the Baron Upton. He was the most strategic-minded of the Duchy's nobility, and Harlen was relieved to see him in charge of this expedition. As the baron rode past, equipped, like his knights, in shining plate armor, he stopped as well, regarding the kneeling trio. "Harlen!" He said. "Please do not tell me that you have captured that lovely creature on one of your hunting foreys!"

Harlen glanced over to Hyandai who was looking rather amused. He looked up. "Milord, actually, I did." He said, squeezing her hand gently. She giggled

The baron laughed, then said. "We shall have to raise the rates on your hunting territory if such game can be snared there." He regarded Hyandai a moment. Of what clan are you, milady?" He asked.

She looked up timidly and said "Yavanour, milord." She said quietly.

The baron sat quietly a moment then said. "I see. Well, wish me well, I go to rid our lands of those troublesome vermin of orcs."

She smiled at him. "I do so, milord, I wish you all speed and grace of arms to triumph over your foes."

He nodded. "Well said. Good day." Then he spurred his warhorse, as well, and trotted off to catch up with his household guard.

Harlen watched the line of troops recede into the distance then turn the bend in the road. He turned to Trevir. "Remember, take good care of the house, and go to Tammer if we're over a month in returning."

The boy said. "I will, Harlen, stay safe." He said and hugged the man's waist.

"I'll try, you worthless whelp." Harlen said, and Hyandai saw the tears that he refused to shed, and let a few roll down her cheeks for his sake.