Come Get Me, Fwin

They were known to be deeply religious protectors. Usually immobile in the day. I glanced at the setting sun. I guessed it didn't need full dark, then, to move. But why was it after us? We hadn't threatened anything. Unless...

"Care to confess anything you did while here, priest?" I asked.

"Well..." the priest's sounded guilty.

Briefly, I considered leaving him behind to face his punishment. But no, Gorey needed help, and I didn't have time to go find another dwarven priest. I sighed and considered my options as I realized that the dwarf and gargoyle were now circling, the dwarf keeping me between them.

Did gargoyles talk?

"Hello?" I tried.

There was no response. Of course.

I eyed the gargoyle critically. It eyed me too. It's eyes! I realized that while the gargoyle's eyelids were stone, the eyes themselves were vulnerable. Could I aim that well, I wondered. It had been years since I'd even practiced with my blow gun, and I'd always depended more on the poisoned darts than good aim anyway.

Well, I guessed I would just have to get close enough to plunge a dart in its eye by hand, I decided. I edged closer to the monster, hoping it was just as unwilling to harm an innocent as the legends I'd heard implied.

"What are you doing?" the priest hissed, keeping close behind me.

I ignored him. The gargoyle ignored me, mostly. I hoped I could time this right. I imagined jabbing a dart into the gargoyle's eyelid as it blinked, thus invoking its wrath too. It was not a nice image.

When I was within arm's reach, I stepped closer again, took a deep breath, and jabbed the dart into the gargoyle's eye with all my might. I sighed with relief as I felt the sharp pin sink into the yielding orb. For a terrifying two seconds, the gargoyle just stared at me, then it slowly fell over.

"Let's go!" I shouted and sprinted out of the city.

It didn't take long at all to regret the last decade and a half of gluttony and sloth as I stumbled to the side of the road and vomited into the grass there, wheezing. The priest stopped and turned to look at me in disbelief.

"Are you serious?" he asked, barely breathing hard.

"Fuck you!" I replied. "What.." I gasped, "did you do anyway?"

"I may have pissed on a church," the priest replied, red-faced. "In my defense, I was drunk."

Calming, I said, "Well, I don't know how long my poison will knock out that gargoyle for, or whether he'll be able to leave the city to look for you. But we clearly can't outrun it all the way back to the shire, either."

"So, what can we do?"

I looked around, searching for inspiration. My gaze landed on a golem, the clay automaton mindlessly walking through a row of crops, looking for signs of pestilence.

"How do you think that gargoyle tracks you?" I asked. "Do you think they smell, use magic, or just good old-fashioned, visual cues?"

The priest frowned thoughtfully, "It didn't have a nose, and I can block magical tracking."

"Perfect," I said, my plan coming together.

I only felt a little guilty as I broke apart the two golems. Yet again, being small came in handy as the priest and I were able to fit inside the hollow clay humanoid shaped bodies. Only the joints looked inauthentic, broken apart to allow us to move without the magic that allowed golems to bend clay as they walked.

We took care to walk at golem speed as we headed down the farm rows, parallel to the road. Since golems didn't stop moving or sleep, we slept during the day so that we could walk all night, when the gargoyle would be awake and searching, to maintain our disguise. We didn't see the gargoyle that night, or the next. But on the third night, we saw a shadow too large to be a bird pass across the moon. The priest and I shared a meaningful glance, but we didn't speak or slow down.

The fourth night, the gargoyle flew back and forth several times in our area, even swooping down over our heads. It took all my nerves to maintain the act of being a golem as the gargoyle came close enough for me to see that it had one eye gouged out, leaving an empty stone socket.

We arrived at the edge of the woods that night, but we didn't go in. With the gargoyle still making its sweeps, we couldn't break cover. Without any words exchanged, we turned and walked along the edge of the woods at the edge of the field. We were quite a way off the road by the time the sun rose hours later.

We hiked into the woods before removing our clay armor and burying it into the hollow of a tree. We didn't want the gargoyle to see it and guess at our plan and direction.

"Do you think it will hunt you for the rest of your life?" I asked.

"I hope not," the priest replied with a tremor of fear.

"I hope it won't follow us into the woods."

The priest nodded his agreement. Our hopes were dashed when we were almost to the shire, passing near the lumber yard. Unlike the first time, this time there was no warning scrape of claws. One minute, I was hiking, the next, I was tumbling to the ground, pain radiating from my shoulder.

I turned around and caught sight of the priest pinned under the gargoyle. I lurched to my feet and stumbled forward.

"No!" I cried.

The gargoyle glared at me with it's one eye as it carefully lifted a leg, and pissed on the priest. My mouth dropped open in shock. After letting out a high-pressure stream of urine, the gargoyle calmly stood up, releasing the priest. Then he stalked towards me.

My mouth went dry. If the priest's punishment for pissing on a church was getting pissed on himself. Then my punishment for taking an eye... I backed away and let out a squeal of fear, some part of me retaining enough presence of mind to ready a dart. I had maybe one chance to escape, but then what? Lose both eyes when it inevitably found me? I couldn't block magic tracking like the priest could.

I braced myself as the gargoyle closed in on me.

I didn't even notice the dwarf until his axe cleaved the head of the gargoyle clean off. I watched in shock as the stone head tumbled away. I turned back to the dwarf standing behind the slowly crumbling body of the decapitated gargoyle.

"Gorey!" I cried and threw myself into his arms.

"I told you to be careful," he said softly as he squeezed me tight.

"Sorry," I buried my face into his strong shoulder, thankfully.

"Your husband?" The priest asked.

"Yes, this is Gorey. Gorey, this priest can exorcise your demons."

The exorcism ceremony required a significant amount of preparation, it seemed. The priest puttered around for three whole days muttering over everything we owned and tossing powder against our doors and windows and anything that looked like a crack or hole.

"It's almost the dark moon," I told the priest nervously.

He nodded, unconcerned.

"Will you be able to exorcise Gorey before then?" I asked.

"Of course, do not worry."

I worried. The entire fourth day, the priest spent meditating in the garden. The day after that, he just slept.

"The dark moon is tomorrow," I fretted at him the next morning.

"And we are ready to begin," the priest replied.

"Finally!"

"Before we start," the priest said to Gorey, "Understand this: If you are not ready and committed to releasing these demons, the exorcism will not work."

Gorey nodded seriously.

"This will be hard for you," the priest said to me, "your husband will have to expel all his fears, doubts, and insecurities. He will say terrible things. But if he truly commits to letting go of these ideas that possess him, he will be free of his demons."

I nodded, preparing myself for trauma.

The priest bound Gorey's wrists to the bed with a rope of red cord that he unwound from his waist. He took out a bottle of red powder and sprinkled it on Gorey's forehead and bare chest. Then, he began to chant in Dwarfish.

As the sun set, Gorey began to writhe, pulling at his bonds fruitlessly. Before the last glimmers of day light faded away, he began to rage at me.

"Faithless whore!" he shouted, spittle flying. "How could you sleep next to me, next to your kids, and dream of another man! How dare you fuck him in the shadow world and pretend it doesn't matter! You bitch, you slut, you dog! You've destroyed me! You've destroyed our lives! You were the one who did this! You were the one who said you would never cheat, liar!"

I took a deep shaking breath as water gathered at the corners of my eyes. I considered his words, the glint of truth buried in his exaggerated outrage was enough to hurt. But what was worse, was the hate in his voice, the distrust in his delusions, the irrational rant that was proof he believed nothing I said.

The flow of words did not slow or stop, but continued at the same pace for hours until his voice ran ragged and he was wracked by hacking coughs. And still, he whispered.

"Why did you do this to me?" he repeated again and again as his voice faded away.

I held myself and cried, my sobs drowned out by the still powerful voice of the priest. As the sun rose the next day, Gorey finally stopped struggling and relaxed, falling into a deep sleep.

"Is it done?" I asked.

"I've done what I can," the priest replied. "It's up to him now. All he has to do is to truly want to be free of his demons."

"Why wouldn't he?" I frowned, face still wet with tears.

The priest shrugged, "Some people hold their pain close and fear that without it, they'll not be themselves anymore."

I sat next to Gorey's side all that day as he slept, holding his hand tightly. It was late, nearly sundown, when his eyes fluttered awake. He looked at me, and smiled. Relief warmed me.

But close on the heels of relief was a nagging little urge that I hadn't felt in a month. I wanted, something... I wanted, what was it? I grasped at the thought, and gasped. I wanted to call to Fwin. But the urge was supposed to be gone, wasn't it? I had exorcised Gorey of his demons, hadn't I?

I looked into Gorey's eyes, and flinched as I saw them harden with hate and anger.

"Who are you fucking?" he demanded. "Who have you been fucking in this bed? I'm done with you! And you better tell your kids what you did. Don't you dare deny it! You're a cheating liar, and you better admit it to them! You better tell them this is all your fault!"

I gasped and stumbled backward. Why hadn't he let it go? Why had he held onto his demons? I shook my head as I realized it didn't matter the reason. The fact was that I couldn't live with a man who hated me, even if only some of the time. My marriage was truly over.

I hung my head and wept, and with each sob the urge to call out to Fwin grew, greater and greater. My chest constricted with desire and pain, blending until I couldn't tell one from the other.

I collapsed into a ball, rolling in on myself, and in a quiet wail, I cried out, "Come and get me, Fwin."

I opened my eyes and found myself in a desert, sinking softly into sand, and Fwin standing next to me.

"You called?" he smiled at me.

I burst into tears, again. Then I laughed. Fwin waited patiently for me to calm myself.

"Aren't you mad at me?" I asked.

Fwin tilted his head, "What for?"

"For, leaving you right at the edge of the morass, abandoning you in a moment of high emotion? For, I don't know, leading you on?"

Fwin shook his head, "You didn't lead me on."

"I'm a terrible person," I insisted.

"No... No I don't think so," Fwin shook his head.

"My husband thinks so."

"Does he know you?"

Miserably, I shook my head, "I don't think he does, actually. Twelve years, and he thinks I'm running around fucking and lying. I would never do that to him!"

Fwin nodded, "I know. I was there."

I burst into tears again. Fwin stepped closer and enfolded me in his arms. It felt wonderful to be held. I thought guiltily of my husband's warm embrace, but there was no way he was going to hug me now. He hated me.

"I hate myself," I muttered under my breath.

"I like you," Fwin murmured into my ear.

"Why? I'm a disaster! I'm fat, and a tease, and probably it's my fault that my husband has demons!"

"Mmm... I like disasters, actually. I'm intrigued by your body, and I enjoy being teased. As for your husband, that's not your fault."

"How do you know?" I moaned, trying to ignore the flush of warmth that his words sent coursing through my body.

"You're nice, even when you try not to be. Any demons your husband has, they weren't put there by you," Fwin said, then kissed my cheek.

I shivered and pushed myself away from him.

"We can't do that, it's not right."

Fwin arched an eyebrow, "Are you saying you don't want to fuck me?"

"Yes," I nodded, but was compelled to tell the truth despite my best efforts, "No," I closed my lips around the word, letting it out only as a mumble.

"But you don't want to fuck me!" I said, feeling hopeful. "Look at me, I'm ugly. My husband says I'm pretty, but he's an outlier. Surely, you aren't attracted to me, physically."

Fwin moved his eyes slowly up my body, and I didn't feel confident in my assertion anymore. Well, desperate times call for desperate measures. I pulled off my pants and shirt.

"Look! I have hairy legs, and cellulite on my thighs. My stomach is floppy and my nipples are so light you can't even see them!"

Fwin bit his lip and squinted.

Feeling I still hadn't made my case, I chucked off my underwear and turned my back on him, "Even my ass is hairy!" I cried.

"Ohhh..." Fwin let out a sound that seemed suspiciously like a moan of desire.

Fuck. Why wasn't this working?

I jerked as I felt a light touch on my butt, "It's furry," Fwin said with awe.

"Disgusting, right?" I said hopefully.

"Adorable," Fwin replied.

"Damn it, be reasonable man!" I turned around and my nipples brushed against Fwin's shirt.

I shuddered as his hand that had rested on my butt was now touching the crease between my thigh and stomach. I looked up and into Fwin's eyes. They twinkled with amusement.

"Damn you," I said.

"Don't you mean, fuck me?" He replied.

"You're supposed to not want me anymore. I've been cruel to you. I'm unattractive. It's been a month! We barely know each other," I listed off objections.

Fwin kissed me, cutting off the flow of my words. His lips were soft against mine. I was shocked to find my tongue darting out to find his. My body tingled as we explored each other's mouths.

Fwin broke off the kiss and pulled off his clothes in a frenzy. My eyes drifted to his hard cock, which I'd seen only once before. It was magnificent. My mouth watered with the need to taste it.

"No," I whispered.

"No?" Fwin asked.

"This is wrong."

"It feels right to me."

The sharp sting of pain on my thigh surprised me and broke the moment. I looked down and saw a creature about the size of an apple clinging to me.

"Snipe fly," Fwin groaned and grabbed the insect. He crushed it under his foot, with a look of pain, "I don't like killing, but sometimes it needs to be done."

I nodded, "So, I'm stuck here then."

"For a little while, at least," Fwin agreed.

I looked around for my clothes, but didn't see them anywhere.

"Uhhh, hmm, yeah. So, when you take off your clothes when shadow walking they disappear because they are no longer in contact with your body," Fwin explained.

"Oh," I blushed and my nipples hardened as I considered this. "So I'm stuck here, naked, until the snipe fly bite heals. Which could be days."

"Yep," Fwin agreed.

I eyed his naked body, "What about you?"

"I can't wake-up while you're stuck here, it could leave you stuck here forever. We're both stuck."

"Huh."

Fwin waggled his eyebrows and swiveled his hips, his semi-hard cock swinging in the air, "I wonder how we can spend the time?"

I laughed, "You're incorrigible."

"I'm in a pretty great mood, at the moment. Here I was, bored and alone. And now I am neither. Fantastic."

"But, you're married," I reminded him glumly.

"So are you."

"Not for long," I sighed and flopped back on the ground, laying and staring up at the sky.

Fwin laid down next to me, "Want to tell me about it?"

"I'll tell you mine and you tell me yours?" I asked.

Fwin made a small noise that I took as agreement. Well, either way, I was going to tell him, because the dramatic end of my marriage was weighing heavily on my mind, compelling me to share. What he told me in return was up to him.

"I still love him, my husband. He says he loves me too, but he doesn't trust me. He's been mean, too. He goes on these epic rants, listing all my flaws - imagined and real. He won't stop once he starts. Just keeps escalating until he's at the point of saying things just because he knows it'll hurt me. He said I'm just like my father. My father who destroyed my mother and I for his own selfish desires. He said that's me.

"And what if he's right? What if I have destroyed us just because I couldn't let go of the Adventurers' Guild and my friends there. Because I choose to join you, even knowing how dangerously arousing it was."

I fell silent and the quiet enveloped us for a long moment before Fwin replied.

"How much of yourself can you give up, Kletara? Are you supposed to be shut in your hobbit hole like a mole?"

Tears leaked from my eyes, "I can't live like that. My Gorey can, but not me. And what if I did, anyway. Would it satisfy him? Or would he find some new flaw to vilify me for? And the worst thing is, I found a priest to exorcise him of his demons, his jealousy and insecurity, and he refused to be freed of them."

My body spasmed with a racking sob. I closed my throat to stifle the cry that threatened.

"Don't do that," Fwin said. "You don't have to hold back here. Let it go."

I didn't let go. Well, maybe a little. There went a little howl, very soft, nearly totally under control. Fuck, another scream escaped me, a bit louder. Fwin's hand slid into mine and the dam burst. Ugly crying erupted full force. I was sure that my face was red and puffy, my eyes blood shot, saliva and mucus smeared across my nose and mouth. Disgusting, and unstoppable and I let my pain ravage me.

I had no idea how long it was before I calmed down again. I'd given up trying to wipe away my snot and tears at some point, and wetness lingered on my face. I wiped at it with my hands, but I had no clothes and couldn't interact with anything in the real world anyway. I grunted in disgust with myself.

"Feel better?" Fwin asked.

"I feel gross," I said, wiping at my face futilely.

Fwin laughed, "You totally are."

I glared at him, but his good cheer was infectious and I couldn't keep from chuckling too.

"Don't think I've forgotten our deal," I said with a sniffle. "It's your turn to share now."

"Demanding, aren't you?" Fwin replied, sounding chipper.

I nodded, "Yeah, so fess up already."

I listened as Fwin described his own marriage, his troubles, his coping mechanisms and his attitude and outlook. It was nice to listen to someone else's problems and feel a little less like the only one who was fucked up. And ultimately, Fwin was in charge of his relationships, not me. I either had to trust that he was doing the best he could to honor his vows and responsibilities, or not.

Maybe it was my flaw, but I always erred on the side of trust, especially with people I cared about. I sighed as I remembered that my husband didn't trust me, and he was supposed to love me. Why?

I realize that Fwin had stopped talking and I'd probably missed some of what he'd said, distracted by my own thoughts. I looked over and found that he was staring at me. His expression was wistful, and something else, hungry. My clit pulsed with arousal. There was possibly nothing more arousing to me in the world than being wanted, desired. And Fwin gave that to me.

He gave that to me, and more, I realized. He respected my boundaries, he listened to me, he didn't judge. He made me laugh and shared my interests. It was too bad we hadn't met a dozen years ago when we could have succumbed to our attraction without all the complications of our other attachments.