Come Get Me, Fwin

As always, many thanks to NewOldGuy77 for tirelessly working to reduce the typos and errors that make it into the posted story.

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"I'm bored..." I commented. "I'm going to go down to the Adventurers' Guild for a bit."

My husband, Goredo, looked up from his whittling at this statement, "Just be careful, OK? Knowing you, you'll get tempted by some new discovery and then you'll be off to who knows where."

I frowned, "I will not. You know I left all that behind when I met you and decided to settle down and have the little ones."

Goredo peered at me from his comfortable fireside chair in our hobbit-hole skeptically, "Don't open yourself to temptation, Kletara."

I examined my husband, as a dwarf he fit perfectly in my hobbit-hole, although less perfectly in the shire. Squat and muscular, he exuded masculine power even under the rotund beer belly he'd gained over the years. His biceps, once as large around as my thigh, had shrunk while my thighs had expanded. Despite the weight I'd gained, he still looked at me the same as on our wedding day, like I was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

While his muscles were no longer quite as obvious, he remained the strongest of the shire's lumber workers, able to lift twice as much wood in a single load as any of the local hobbits. Sometimes, I liked to watch as he effortlessly demonstrated his physical superiority. It still made me wet. Even better was when he used all his power to ferry our two kids around on his back, running them in giggling circles.

"Nothing could tempt me to leave you, Gorey," I said, honestly.

My husband looked at me carefully for a moment, then shrugged, "I won't tell you what to do, just remember what's important."

"Always," I said, then yelled to the hobbit-hole in general, "I'm going out!"

Moments later, two small children burst into the room. Half-dwarf and half-hobbit, they were the loves of my life. I bent down and folded them into a hug.

"Be good for Papa while I'm gone, sprites."

"Of course, Mama. Bring me a sweet?" the youngest replied eagerly, never letting an opportunity to ask for a treat go unused.

I smiled, "Maybe."

Mussing both little heads of hair, I strode out into the shire. The sun was bright, already thawing the frost that coated the grassy knolls marking each hobbit-hole. As usual, no one else was out. I breathed in the early morning air, clean and crisp, feeling free.

Smoke billowed from chimneys all over the valley, creating shimmering columns that obscured the horizon intermittently. From our dwelling on the edge of the shire, high up on the valley side, I could see the glinting stream of blue river below and the flat, unending plains beyond. Above me on the ridge, towered the tall spruce of the forest which would shade our valley in the afternoon.

I walked down into the valley and North along the hill, making my diagonal path to the ferry port. There was a small collection of buildings there, and one of those was the Adventurers' Guild. The shire was a peaceful place for adventurers to gather on their way to or from distant lands.

As a child, I had hung around the guild all the time, watching the adventurers with fascination. The moment I had been old enough, I'd gone adventuring myself, eager to see what was beyond the shire. I was an odd sort of hobbit, I'd always known that.

Eight years after leaving the shire, I'd met Gorey, an adventurer as well. Both of us were prickly, proud, and passionate. We'd fought hard and loved harder. Unlike me, Gorey had been dragged into adventure unwillingly. He dreamed of the shire life I'd left behind, a humble home, and a family to fill it. And through his eyes, I'd begun to see the charms of that life as well.

Twelve years later, we were well settled in our hobbit-hole. Years of work, a decade of struggle and compromise had resulted in, for the first time in my life, peaceful coexistence. I hardly knew how to handle the calm.

And so, I visited the Adventurer's Guild. Unlike when I was young, I wasn't just there to listen to the stories, but to tell my own as well. Although I had given up adventuring a long time ago, I had pursued it harder than most and had ended up with stories even those who wandered for decades were surprised to hear.

None of the shire residents, the hobbits, understood at all -- being intrinsically disgusted by adventure. Not even Gorey liked to talk about my years of adventuring, as he constantly worried that I was on the verge of going off again. Which left only one place for me to talk to like-minded souls.

I grinned as the buzz of loud talking, furniture scraping, cussing, and other associated raucous sounds of life drifted up to me from the Adventurers' Guild. The clang of metal on metal from the courtyard beyond meant either someone was training or settling a dispute. As I reached the front doors, they swung open, and a pair of young satyrs fell out.

"Ya louts have grasped ya last arse in here, ya hear? Ay see either o' ya again, and ya lose ya hands, hear?"

"Hey, Truna," I grinned up at the guild master, a middle-aged human woman dressed in slacks and a loose blouse that did not emphasize her bosom -- although hers was certainly generous.

"Kletara," Truna frowned down at me, "Ya remember ta keep ya stories tame, right? Ay'm tired o' my hirelings running away home."

"Sure, sure," I replied with a sigh.

I mean, I had only told the one story about the Flandoran's unique ass-stretching torture, and that was months ago! Wasn't it time to let that go? Yet, every time I showed up, I got the same warning. Apparently, it was fine to mention the torture practices, but not to describe it in gleeful detail. Mea culpa.

I passed easily under Truna's still outstretched arm as she held open the door, one of the benefits of being short around tall people. Inside, the guild building was dimly lit and densely occupied. I took a deep breath of the unique mix of scents that always permeated the building, each aroma telling a tale of a distant land visited. Today's strong notes were orange blossom and cardamom tea from the far shores of Tilanria, a cologne with a particular cinnamon base note that was popular in the Hadric lowlands, and the musky sweat that meant my friend Burgg, the boar shifter, had been showing off his altered form again. I followed that last, and least pleasant, smell.

I snaked through the room, practically invisible to most of the other adventures, my height putting me well below their accustomed line of sight. But there were a few who were more observant than most. One of these hailed me as I scooted past.

"Kletara," A melodious voice caught my ear.

I turned and squinted into the shadows. A quick movement and a flutter of fabric drew my eye and I headed in that direction, forgetting my search for Burgg.

"Fwin," I greeted the shadow dweller, "Good to see you!"

A face gradually became clear in the shadows, indistinct and blurry. No one know what the mage really looked like. He wasn't really present, anyway, using astral projection to visit the guild.

"I am glad to see you here today, hobbit," Fwin said, "I was worried that I'd missed your visit."

"You miss nothing, mage," I laughed.

"Neither do you," Fwin returned, his voice softly mocking.

"Has it been so boring today?"

"It has been just the usual here, boasting and bragging and nothing of substance said."

"Of anyone here, you are the one who lacks substance," I teased.

"Believe me, I wish I could be there in the flesh," Fwin sighed.

"You are hard enough to look at now. I can only imagine how horrifying you'd look in person," I replied lightly, laughing.

"I assure you that I am quite easy on the eyes."

"Easy like a two-penny whore," I quipped.

Fwin chuckled, "Not quite."

"Anyway, you distracted me. I was following my nose to Burgg," I chided him.

"By all means, I wouldn't dream of taking any attention away from the pigman, he surely needs it more than I do."

I waved a hand through Fwin's shadow and his image wavered in the air, "Jealousy doesn't become you, Shadowboy."

"I've got to depart anyway, real life beckons, and all that," Fwin began to fade as he spoke. As the wispy tendrils of his smoke cleared, his last words came through with a huff, "I am not jealous of Burgg..."

Well, if not Burgg, with that obvious emphasis, who was he jealous of?

Shaking my head, I dismissed Fwin and his maddening riddles and went on to find Burgg. The popular old adventurer who had always kept an eye out for me since I had first started hanging around the guild as a child. He wasn't like a father, he'd never been that consistent or protective, but he was a good friend.

I found him in the upper salon, playing the old church organ that someone had lugged in from who knows where. With only its smaller pipes in place, it was just loud enough to be heard in the stairwell, but not downstairs in the din of adventurers.

I plopped down in a chair and listened to Burgg play. Except for a few missed keys, the melody was rather touching.

"Getting better at that old thing," I commented when he took a break.

"I would hope so. I've certainly sunk enough time into this dismal hobby that I should be ashamed if I weren't getting better."

In his human shape, Burgg was average height, with dark coarse hair that seemed to sprout from his every pore. His lower canines were unnaturally large and jutted over his upper lip from his slightly protruding jaw. He was neither thin nor fat, but somewhere indistinctly in between.

"Have you heard any interesting news?" I asked, eager to staunch the flow of my overwhelming boredom.

Burgg turned and faced me, placing his hands on his knees thoughtfully, "I've heard that there has been something of a unique discovery beyond the Knurl in the desert of Lythanta. A tumblewind psychic sensed a morass of magic throbbing deep in an infrequently visited cave there. Even now, adventurer parties are forming to seek it out in person, and see what secrets that deep pool of magic holds."

I closed my eyes and imagined it. I mentally prepared my packing list, everything I would take for such an adventure. I considered the timing, the planning, how to execute the exploration. Every detail crystalized in my head and then I was there, standing before the desert cave, peeking in, hoping to glimpse the promised quagmire within.

I took a deep breath and sighed, enjoying the draw of mystery that called from far beyond the shire. Once, I would have been among the first to chase after it, barely even stopping to take proper precautions in my headlong zeal to investigate. But that was a long time ago.

"Who has agreed to go?" I asked, ready to do gossip about which group was most likely to succeed.

"The usual suspects. Vityla and Yash, The Dreck Crew, the Ghumption..."

I frowned, "What about Rusty and the Wool Gatherers?"

Burgg smiled, "They are still caught up in that fracas in the Southern gulley, with the thousand orc virgins."

I laughed, "Serves them right! I told Rusty he shouldn't get involved in orcish politics. It's never worth the pay, no matter how much is promised."

"Too true," Burgg agreed with a wink. "But I think Rusty was intrigued by the prospect of so many virgins gathered in one place. His eyes rather glazed over every time he mentioned it before they left."

I whooped and guffawed, "What does a pixie like Rusty think he's going to do with a bunch of orc women anyway?"

"Something vorish, no doubt."

I shuddered at the thought, "Oh gods, stop! I can't believe the Wool Gatherers went along with it, unless they've been fascinated too."

"Oh, you know, with the goblins it's all about the money," Burgg shrugged.

"Well, maybe a couple of them will get laid," I suggested. "They sure could benefit from a little relaxation."

Burgg gave me a mischievous grin, "Not if the gossip I heard this morning has any truth to it."

"What?" I leaned in, eager to hear any gossip.

"I heard that the virgins are all orc men!"

"No!" I gasped, an image burst into my head of poor little pixie Rusty intent on examining orc vaginas getting a prick in his eye instead, causing me to practically fall off my chair with mirth.

"Oh yes," Burgg nodded into his beard, looking amused.

"Ah shit, Burgg. If that's true, I'll start a collection for a couple night ladies for Rusty to help him recover when he gets back."

"He'll be so touched you care, I'm sure," Burgg grinned and winked at me, "but you know he'd rather have a little hobbit."

"He can keep dreaming, everyone knows I am firmly attached," I reminded Burgg.

"Yes, but dreaming never hurt anyone."

"Certainly his dreams don't hurt me," I confirmed, wondering if Burgg had any dreams of his own. If he did, he kept them well under wraps.

That night, I lay in bed and fantasized about going out on an adventure again, hunting for that promised morass, full of mystery and magic. As usual, the idea aroused me and I began rubbing at my mound, digging into my soft golden-brown fur, seeking out my pleasure center. I moaned as I stroked myself, even though I was trying to be quiet.

Next to me, my husband's snores halted, and he stirred awake. Shifting closer to me, he rubbed his fingers into one of my plump breasts, pinching and rubbing my nipple, just as he knew would help me cum. Gasping, I arched my hips and trembled as I climaxed.

I rolled into Gorey's side, "Thank you," I whispered into his ear.

"A'ight, sleep, hmm?" He mumbled incoherently.

I nestled my head into his chest and reminded myself that this was why I would never go adventuring again. Not just for this dwarf who loved me, but for our children too. I had vowed to give my kids the stable home I'd never had. My father had left when I was a child, chasing after a fantasy of being a hero. I'd inherited his wanderlust, it seemed. But I would keep it under control.

Fully satisfied with my life, I drifted to sleep, thankful for the warm embrace of a good man.

While curiosity ate at me about the Lythantan morass, and the orc virgins, I didn't get the chance to return to the guild for several days. I practically ran there the next chance I got. This time, the first floor was far less crowded, and I spotted Fwin easily in his favorite corner.

"Hey, Shadowboy," I greeted him as I slid into a chair at his table.

"Shorty," Fwin nodded his head.

"Not very creative," I observed.

"And 'Shadowboy' is?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Touche." I laughed, then launched into what I really cared about, "What's the news about that mystical morass in Lythanta?"

"No news," Fwin shrugged. "None who have set out have made it there yet."

I slumped, "Aww..."

We were silent a moment, each lost in our own thoughts.

"I've been considering going there myself," Fwin finally said.

I glanced up surprised, "Really? But you never go anywhere."

The shadow walker smiled, a strange shifting of his blurred features that I'd come to recognize, "I intend to shadow walk, of course. Responsibilities keep me at home, but there's no reason I can't go like this."

I considered the indistinct form of the mage, "How does it work, then? You just imagine a different place, and whoosh, you're there?"

"Nothing so simple, I'm afraid. I have to travel with all the limitations of my real body, but my real body never moves. I can, if I want, bring along one person to join me wherever I am."

I glanced up sharply at that, "Reeeaaallly?"

"Yes, really. So, I could make the journey, and when you can - when you're sleeping for example - I could call your awareness to me, and you'd be there with me."

My clit twitched at the promise, the lure of adventure. It wouldn't be quite the same as going in my real body, of course, but near enough to be quite satisfying. And better, I'd never leave home! My kids and husband would have me all day, and I would be free at night to wander as much as I desired.

I wondered, briefly, why Fwin would hang out in this dumpy old Adventurers' Guild if he could really go adventuring with his body safe and sound, left behind with his own responsibilities - his own wife and kids. I didn't ask. I didn't want to risk him rescinding his tantalizing offer.

"I would love to go adventuring again," I breathed. "It's perfect, a way to be there for my family, and enjoy myself too. Brilliant!"

Fwin chuckled, "I'm glad you approve. I will start out now then, and when you are ready to sleep tonight, simply say 'Come get me, Fwin,' and if I am shadow walking, I will."

My skin warmed and my pussy moistened. I was so ready to go exploring. I needed the excitement, the danger, the vitality of discovery.

"Thank you, Fwin," I said.

"Not Shadowboy anymore?" He teased.

"Take me on an adventure, and I'll call you whatever you want," I promised.

Fwin's quiet laughter drifted back to me as he made his way out of the tavern. I wondered if he would hire a horse, or if a horse would even carry a weightless rider. Would he have to walk the whole way there? Questions burned at me, but now wasn't the time to ask.

When I got home, I was nearly knocked over by two half-height bundles of energy.

"Mommy!" they called and glommed onto me.

I laughed and worked to extricate myself from their much too numerous limbs. Weren't little hobbit-dwarves supposed to have just two arms each? How was it then, that I seemed to be fending off ten hands?

After a few minutes of hyperactivity, I managed to get a child wrapped under each of my arms. They clung to my hips as I lumbered through the house, in search of my husband. I found him with his upper body hidden in a cabinet, squatting awkwardly.

"What are you doing?" I wanted to know.

"Fixing this shelf. Have you noticed it was bowing?" not waiting for an answer, he continued, "Hand me the hammer, will you?"

Setting the handle into his palm, I asked, "How long until you're done?"

"A half-hour? Then I'm going to cook up some cow tongue and make the boy read to me. He's getting behind on his schoolwork."

I eyed his thick legs and portly stomach greedily, "Do you have a quick minute to look at something in the bedroom?"

My husband popped his head out of the cabinet and eyed me. I winked.

Faster than a dwarf his size should move, he jumped up and announced, "Any kids I still see in two minutes are going to help me clean the bathroom!"

Shrieks echoed as our children rapidly vanished. Goredo grinned cockily and grabbed my ass, pulling my groin into his.

"Now, what needs looking at?" he whispered in my ear as he walked me backwards to our room, pausing to lock the door behind us.

"Well, I've noticed it's a bit damp downstairs. I think I need someone to inspect my pipes. Know a good plumber?"

"You know I'm all about DIY," Gorey growled as he picked me up and pushed me back onto the bed.

I fell back and laughed, "Are you sure you have the right skills?"

"Hell yeah," Gorey dug his hands into the waistband of my pants and underwear and threw them off together.

I tossed my shirt away at the same time, then hurried to unhook my bra as my husband pressed my thighs upward and plunged his face into my pussy. I moaned and arched my back in pleasure as I felt the first lick.

"Oh, blessed saint of matrimony!" I gasped.

Gorey, as always, was passionate and attentive in his service to my pleasure. Even better, he encouraged me to fantasize as he slathered his tongue across my labia and clit, knowing it would get me aroused faster. He never asked just what I imagined. Sometimes after I climaxed, I would tell him anyway, when I could slot him into the male role of whatever story was going in my head. And he would fuck me as we shared the same fantasy.

Today wasn't one of those days. Today, my thoughts were centered on a certain pixie and his unlikely encounter with a horde of male virgin orcs. This was not imagery that would inspire Gorey's lust, so I let him continue in blissful ignorance.