A Servant of Arubhár 02

********* CHAPTER 3 *********

SHE HADN'T THOUGHT it would be so hard, but Anári's feet felt weighed down with lead as she left the village behind. After exchanging a heartfelt goodbye with Marwena, she approached the troll caravan camp, still not quite believing this was actually happening.

"So, you made it," Dara, the troll who'd bought her, greeted her once she had reached the camp.

Marwena merely nodded in response as she looked around. Trolls, all male, of various species were busy harnessing the massive draft horses, or stowing the remainders of their camp into the wagons. Smoke plumed from cook fires dowsed with water, and the smell of breakfast meats lingered in the air. Her stomach growled in response, and she cleared her throat to hide the rumble.

Chuckling, Dara shook her head. "Go head over to that wagon there. It's the cook's. We've just finished eating, but I'm sure he'll have some left that you can grab. Is that all you've brought, then?" she studied Anári's small sack.

"You told me to pack only what I couldn't do without. I wasn't sure how much room there'd be in any case, seeing how you're now travelling with an extra person."

"We can always make room or purchase another wagon," Dara dismissed her concern with a wave of the hand. "But as long as you have everything that's dear to you, we've more than enough supplies. Now, hurry along and get some food. I'll not have your stomach shake my wagon with all its rumbling."

A smile teased the corner of her mouth as Anári made her way over to the cart Dara had gestured to. She hadn't expected the troll woman to show any care about a human in her charge. Perhaps working for them wouldn't be so bad, after all.

The caravan was much larger than she'd expected, she realized. There were wagons for living, their solid wooden sides artfully painted in beautiful colors. Covered carts of all sizes held supplies or were stacked high with goods waiting to be delivered. She caught glimpses of furs, carpets, produce, and pottery, and wondered if the woman specialized in anything at all.

A large troll stood with his back to her when she reached the cook's wagon. He was obviously a different species from Dara, she mused. Standing an easy six-and-a-half foot tall, his body was massive, with stout, shorter legs and a long, broad torso. When he turned around, greeted her, she had to bite back a snicker. The linen shirt under his fur-lined coat was pulled tightly around his midsection, one button had already popped. It seemed he was rather . . . portly. Even for a troll.

Warm brown eyes in a weathered face crinkled at the corners when he smiled at her. "And who have we here?"

"A hungry maiden," she answered good-humoredly, instantly charmed by the older troll. "Dara fears I'll rattle her wagon if my stomach keeps growling this way. So she sent me to you."

The laugh that rumbled from his throat was every bit as warm as the rest of his demeanor. "Well, now. That won't do. No one goes hungry as long as I'm around." He rubbed a huge hand over his round stomach as if to emphasize the point.

Smiling, Anári studied him while he fixed her a plate. His skin had the most interesting color of dark red wine. A snow-white beard, no longer than half an inch, covered his rounded jaw, matching the short-cropped hair on his head. He had low, prominent brow bones and a short, flat nose that sat high on his face, almost between his eyes. His neck was short, but thick as a bull's, supporting a forward elongated skull. Despite the two small tusks, his mouth looked friendly and mobile as he smiled broadly once more when he handed her a loaded plate.

"My! You'll make a woman swoon with admiration," Anári declared, studying the heaping pile of bacon, eggs, and toast in her hands.

His warm laughter rumbled over her. "Then you better sit down. I'll not have Dara thinking I've scared you into a faint. I'm Lennor, by the way."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lennor. I'm Anári." She took the fork he offered, found a boulder, plopped down. "A real pleasure," she amended once she had a couple of bites. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten bacon. Or a piece of toast. Even the eggs tasted so much better with some pepper and salt. There was some other spice mixed in, one she'd never tasted before. The exotic flavor left her excited for the things to come, and rather much looking forward to the trip.

When Lennor handed her a cup of hot chocolate, of all things, she was very much tempted to jump up and kiss him. They've had chocolate only a couple of times, back when she was a kid. It was a luxury reserved for those of noble birth, and perhaps some of the wealthiest merchants.

"I appreciate this. I really do." She hoped the look she gave him conveyed her gratitude. "It's been forever since I've had a filling meal. But I think you might have overestimated how much a human woman can eat." Still, she was determined to finish every last bite. After all that time living on the edge of starvation, she wouldn't dare waste any food.

"I told you no one goes hungry as long as I'm around." The sheepish expression on his face almost made her laugh. "Besides, I like my women nice and round. Human or troll, for that matter." Then he turned serious. "I know times have been hard for the people of Verenosi since the war. And it's sorry I am for your suffering."

"Sorry?" His compassion astonished Anári. "You've nothing to be sorry about. King Marvos, the ass, is the monster responsible for it all, with his senseless greed and hate. If anything, I should apologize to you. It was humans, after all, who invaded your lands. And I'm sure you've suffered tremendous losses because of it."

Nodding slowly, Lennor stored away the rest of his utensils. "We've lost a countless number of trolls during the war, true. But the people of Verenosi, the population in general, paid a much higher prize. Innocents should not suffer for the mistakes of others."

Anári made a noncommittal noise. "Plenty of people supported King Marvos' stance. So, in the end, they got what they deserved. Better than they deserved, actually. Seeing how we still have our lands, our people are still free."

"Don't think no troll has ever entertained the notion of invading foreign lands. There will always be those who care only about greater riches and the quickest way to acquire them, rather than working for them. Greed is not a strictly human trait."

"Yet there hasn't been a war started by trolls for as long as history can remember." Anári took another sip of hot chocolate, finished off the rest of her food. Her stomach would burst any moment, she mused, but she savored every bite. "Your armies are massive, from what I've heard. How do you manage to remain so peaceful?"

Lennor took the empty plate, washed it in a bucket of soapy water. "The common population doesn't want to start a war. And if a king knows what's good for him, he'll listen to his subjects. We've everything we need, and anyone can make it as long as they're willing to put in the work. We've no need to plunder other nations when trade will work just fine. True, there are those who will forever complain about this or that. But they've pity grievances, caused by an easy life. We're well aware of what it costs to wage a war in foreign lands. We've seen it time and again. The rewards would benefit only a few, while the common troll would pay the prize. It simply isn't worth it. And everyone, including the majority of our armies, will agree with that."

He put the plate away, dumped the bucket over the already extinguished fire just to be sure, then added it to his cart. "Even the greediest king would have a hard time waging a war with only a handful of warriors. Those who see no reason for the war would simply refuse to go, with rest of the population standing behind them, supporting their stance. So we have our armies, and mighty they are. But they'll do no more than defend our nations."

"If you two are done gossiping, we're ready to move out."

Anári swiveled her head, found Dara standing behind them.

"Go on, I'll see you when we break for lunch." Lennor gave her a wink. "And remember, her bark is worse than her bite."

Chuckling, Anári gave the big troll a quick hug, then turned to follow Dara. "Thanks again," she called over her shoulder.

"It was my pleasure."

********* CHAPTER 4 *********

IT WAS TRUE what Marwena had told her, Anári mused that night when they made camp. Life was really no better in any other part of Verenosi. All day, they'd worked their way along the rutted country road, passing through villages abandoned and crumbling. The only larger town they'd passed had redefined her definition of poverty. People were starving, and illness had taken its toll. She'd seen homeless elderly women huddled in blankets, using the branches of a tree for shelter from the cold. Children, faces drawn and haunted, simply sat in the mud, too fatigued from hunger to move. There had been no sign of livestock anywhere, and the fields surrounding the town lay empty or overgrown with weeds.

To her surprise, Dara had stopped the caravan to feed some children crying in hunger by the side of the road. Then distributed some older bread to the rest of the people. She'd offered blankets to those without shelter, left some healing herbs for the sickest in town. It once again amazed Anári how generous the trolls still were. After all the humans had done to them, one would think they'd relish in their suffering.

Darkness was rapidly settling over the land when the caravan drew to a halt. The trolls had picked a clearing in the woods to spend the night. Horses were quickly unharnessed, then led to a nearby stream to drink. A few large male trolls were driving posts into the ground, another, smaller one ran ropes from one to the next. They were setting up a makeshift pen, Anári shortly realized, and marveled at their organization.

All around her, the place was bustling with activity. Trolls came back from the woods, carrying arms full of wood to feed the fires that would help keep them warm overnight. Others yet were pulling benches from a cart to be used as seats around the fires. Some males rolled barrels to the stream to refill their supply of water. More were tending to the horses, brushing them down, picking their hooves, then covering them with blankets. Buckets were filled with grain and the occasional carrot or apple to thank the large animals for their hard work.

Soon, the fires around Lennor's wagon were lit to heat huge black kettles already hanging from chains. The others quickly followed, casting the scene in a warm orange glow.

"What can I do to help?" she asked Dara when the troll woman returned to her cart.

"You can sit your behind on a bench, and warm yourself by the fire. I'll not have my coin go to waste on a frozen body."

Hesitating, Anári took a look around. "You paid to have a worker. It doesn't feel right, sitting around when everyone's so busy."

"I'll work you plenty once we get to where we're going. But you'd have to make it there first. Alive and healthy, and strong enough to do some labor. Otherwise you'll be no good to me."

"I've rested all day. And my behind is rather sore. There has to be something I can do." The wagon's seat was well cushioned, but Anári wasn't accustomed to sitting all day. It felt good to be on her feet, stretching her legs for a while.

"Fine." Dara huffed out a breath. "There's a wagon we've acquired back in Tarrind not too long ago. It needs some work, but it should do for now for sleeping, so you'll have a cot for the nights. I keep some extra blankets and pillows stored under my bed. And there's a broom in the closet by the door. Grab what you need, and I'll show you the wagon. You might as well set up while we're waiting for dinner."

An hour later, they were seated around the fire, large bowls of steaming stew in their hands. Anári's cot was ready to sleep in, every inch of the rather spacious live-in wagon was swept clean. She couldn't wait to snuggle up between the soft, downy blankets. But for now, she shoveled down the rather delicious stew.

"Slow down, girl. Or you'll make yourself sick."

Anári gave Dara an apologetic grin. "Lennor is an artist in the kitchen. And it's been forever since I've had some beef."

"There'll be plenty more in the days to come. You'll only end up losing your supper if you keep going at this rate."

Forcing herself to pause, Anári took a drink of her warm tea. It was a beautiful night, she thought, looking up at the sky, clear and sprinkled with stars that sparkled like diamonds. The air was cold and crisp, but she was plenty warm next to the fire. The fur lined coat Dara had given her was draped around her hip.

A life could change in the blink of an eye, she mused, spooning up more stew. Only yesterday, she'd been miserable, hungry, cold. She'd held a little hope to gain some favor from the trolls when they passed through. But never would she have imaged that, a mere day later, she'd be sitting here, comfortable and warm, her belly full, with her village taken care of, and no more worries about her own survival.

At their first stop for the day for lunch, Dara had handed her a pile of clothes, from light to warm, including the fur lined coat. She'd eaten two meals that had more than filled her up, and was currently finishing the third, despite her protesting stomach. She had a space to herself to sleep for the first time in her life, and the most amazing blankets to keep her cozy through the night.

Grateful for the opportunity, she ate the rest of her stew, promised to try her best to be a good worker for Dara. Then rose to bring her dishes back to Lennor, and check if he wouldn't let her help him with the clean-up.

*********

RETURNING TO DARA and the others at their fire a while later, Anári sat back down. It was fascinating, listening to their conversations, to hear them talk about the places they had seen. She looked up when another troll seated himself at the fire next to them. Then her brows winged up in surprise as she noted the human woman joining him. Anári hadn't realized she wasn't the only human in this company.

Curious, she watched the troll male gesture with a hand, saw the woman drop to her knees in front of him. Heat rushed to her loins when the woman's fingers moved aside his loincloth, exposing his cock to the night. Anári swallowed, felt a blush spread on her cheeks. She cast a glance around her group, but no one seemed to notice. Completely unfazed by the scene a few feet over, they continued their casual chat.

Marwena had told her that the males were always ready to rut. Still, Anári would have never guessed they'd conduct their . . . business in public. It seemed to be a common affair, however, since none of the trolls so much as batted an eye. Even the male, whose cock was currently engulfed by the woman's mouth, kept drinking his ale and carrying on a conversation as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

And what a cock it was. Mesmerized, Anári couldn't tear her gaze from the scene. The shaft was quite girthy and covered in small bumps, a lighter shade of gray than the rest of his body. Irregular patches of near black marked the shaft in no distinguishable pattern. Unlike a human's, the head of the strange cock was short and blunt, as wide as the rest of the thick muscle.

The troll seemed content to simply let the woman work him with her mouth while he joked and laughed with his comrades. Every now and then, he placed a hand behind her head, urged her to work him faster or deeper. But mostly he left her alone, simply enjoyed her ministrations.

Loins tingling with arousal, Anári took in the woman's bulging cheeks, the way she swallowed around the thick meat nudging at her throat. She couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to have that strange cock glide between her own lips, to feel the bumpy texture, its heavy weight pressing on her tongue.

Another blush crept up her neck, and she averted her gaze, tried to focus on the conversation around her. It was rude to stare, she admonished herself, focused on the ground beneath her feet instead. She counted pebbles to distract herself when the tingling in her loins turned into a throbbing. Drew a circle in the dirt with her toes, then wiped it out. Yet, try as she might, her eyes seemed to have a mind of their own, travelling back to the pair before long.

Almost squirming in her seat, she cast another glance in their direction—just in time to watch the troll's large hand wrap around the back of the woman's head once more. He took another deep swig of his ale, then set it down. And began to shove her mouth over his cock with rapid speed.

The woman tried not to gag as he pulled her down toward his crotch, her fingers curling, digging into his knees. But the big male paid no attention to her struggles, simply tightened his grip to keep her in place. His hips jerked once, twice, pushing the wide, blunt head deep down her throat. Then he continued moving her head back and forth over his shaft, hard and rough, forcing her to take him deep with every stroke.

Anári bit her lip, caught between feeling sorry for the woman and being utterly aroused. It was a mesmerizing sight, watching the primal male take his pleasure. A trickle of moisture trailed down her thigh as she imagined being in the woman's place, envisioned being used with no regard for one's own comfort.

True, the lords' soldiers had a habit of taking women whenever they pleased. But the troll hadn't forced himself on the girl. While her decision might have stemmed from desperation, she had willingly chosen to submit to the act. That, coupled with the troll's exotic looks and endowment, sent a thrill rushing through Anári.

How would it feel to have that thick, throbbing meat pressing down your throat with every stroke? To have your mouth forced over the bumpy shaft without any control over the matter? she wondered. The thought of agreeing to being used that way had her body trembling with excitement.

Her heart beat a rapid drumroll in her chest as she watched the troll pull the woman's head down faster, harder, further. His nostrils were flaring, his massive chest heaving with labored breaths. The deep, rumbling grunts coming from this throat almost caused Anári to let out a moan of her own.

When he tired of moving the woman's head, he simply held her still, began to thrust into her mouth. The muscles in his powerful body contracted, rippling with every move.

Finally, he shoved forward one last time, burying his cock deep down the woman's throat. Anári could clearly see the large bulging outline of it in the woman's neck. Then the throat stretched even further, near impossibly wide, when the male's formerly blunt cockhead suddenly flowered.

Face squished into his rock-hard stomach, the woman squirmed, pressed her hands against his knees, trying to pull back, to dislodge him. But the troll would not be denied. His other hand wrapped around her neck, held her in place.

And, head thrown back, he let out a roar with his release.

The flaring head expanded and decreased inside the woman's throat, pumping a torrent of seed into her stomach. Over and over, the troll's powerful flanks tightened as the thick cock jerked and pulsed. The muscles of the girl's throat labored hard around the massive shaft, swallowing, contracting in spasms.

Just as Anári thought the woman would pass out from lack of air, the troll released her head, yanked his cock free. Then sunk back down onto the seat, and picked up his ale—and his conversation. The flowering cockhead slowly shrunk back to its former size, still dripping seed onto the floor. Anári couldn't help but stare in wonder at the exotic sight. He was endowed much like a horse, she mused, although much smaller. And all those little bumps along the shaft were certainly different.