Peridur and Eleanor Ch. 05

When the World was New

A lush forest appeared around the Soulbound and the unconscious shaman. The colors of the leaves were bright green and difficult for the elves to look at without squinting as the trees seemed to give off their own light rather than simply absorbing energy from the sun. As Peridur and Eleanor gazed in astonishment at the beauty of the past through Grunash's memories, a woman's voice came out of the scene around them.

"Welcome Soulbound," she said. "To when the world was new." And a beautiful woman came striding between the shining trees. Her voluptuous curves were barely covered by thick ropes made of ivy that were wound in mesmerizing patterns across her hips and full breasts.

The elves immediately recognized the goddess of love from their meditation on the creation of the orcs. Eleanor felt herself flushing in mild embarrassment at the memory of the pleasure she had enjoyed while embodying the goddess.

Peridur gave an elaborate yet effortless bow to Love, and Eleanor followed suit with a curtsy, calling on her long years of etiquette training at the court of the Etharch to overcome her hesitancy at engaging with the goddess.

"My Lady," Peridur said. "We are honored by your presence." The goddess smiled and her visage caused the shining foliage around her to dim in comparison. The elf blinked a few times to clear his thoughts from Love's overwhelming charisma and continued, "Eleanor and I have come to this place to not only learn about the shaman Grunash's history but also to understand more about the mysterious creatures called the Abhors."

The goddess's face clouded for a moment but then her ever present smile reemerged. "All one needs to know about my servant Grunash can be learned through the memory in which we find ourselves." She paused. "But as for the beasts of dream, it is best not to speak of them here as we are close to the boundaries from which they emerge to torment those on the physical plane."

Love turned, revealing yet more intricately woven ivy trailing down her shapely back. "Follow," she said and moved away from the Soulbound through the trees, which swayed as the goddess approached to spare her the effort of pushing them to the side. Peridur took Eleanor's hand gently and gave her an encouraging smile, then they followed Love deeper into the primordial woods.

The goddess spoke in lilting tones as she walked. "Ages and ages ago," she said. "The true natures of all things dwelt closer to the surface. You must have noticed the colors are brighter here and there was a reason for that." Love plucked a single leaf off of a vine of her ivy and tossed it over her shoulder. The Soulbound watched as the leaf hit the ground and it immediately flowered and spread, crawling up the closest tree, wrapping the trunk in patterns of ivy similar to the goddess's finery.

"The energy of all things, gods and goddesses, plants and animals, elves and orcs, and the universe itself, was new and fresh and unbridled." The goddess ran her fingers over a small plant as she passed and it burst into bright red flowers that turned their faces towards Love as she continued onward.

"As in all things, there was a balance of growth and decay in this existence," she said. "The brighter a light shines, the darker a shadow it casts." Love ceased moving at a break in the trees and gestured for the elves to join her. "Behold, one of the shadows."

At first, the Soulbound thought they were gazing down into a steep gorge at the bottom of which a stream flowed, burbling and bubbling through the rocks at its base. But as they continued to watch, the swiftly flowing ripples resolved itself into a discernable pattern of diamond-shaped scales. Within the waters of the stream, a bright red light began to glow revealing the eyes of a beast hidden within and Love pointed towards it.

"Hunger dominated some of the spirits of this time. They required constant sustenance to maintain their consciousness in their swiftly changing physical forms." The goddess curled her lip in disgust at the enormous watery serpent that clawed at the rock face of the gorge, scourging long swathes of material from it before flowing onwards.

"This particular spirit clothed itself in water and hid in plain sight as a place for creatures, both sentient and not, to get a drink," she said. "The elves called it, 'the Flood', and counseled their children how to quickly recognize it from certain signs, though they still lost a dozen to its ravages."

"The orcs, however," Love flashed her teeth in a fierce smile that momentarily reminded Eleanor of Grunash. "Do not name their enemies until they conquer them."

From within the gorge, an inhuman scream pierced the silence. The elves startled and moved closer together as a heavily muscled orc entered the ravine from somewhere to their left. The orc gave another battlecry as he approached the enormous snake made of water and, as he did so, his shape wavered and shifted into the form of a gigantic bear.

"Grunash," Peridur whispered into Eleanor's ear as he wrapped his arms around her.

The serpent raised its head from the gorge basin and gave a menacing hiss, like water thrown over a fire and turned to steam. The bear roared and threw itself into the creature's body, clawing its way through the living water towards the bright red beacon of the thing's eyes.

The elves' attention was drawn away from Grunash's battle with the snake as a shining silver light entered the far side of the gorge. The light resolved itself into an elf dressed in leather. In his hands, he had a spear that burned with its own flame. As he ran at the stream that was also a serpent, he began to chant an ancient elven song of strength. Eleanor gasped in recognition as her Soulbound drew her closer in an effort to stop her trembling.

"I know that song," she said and clasped Peridur's neck to her cheek. "The spellsingers call it, 'Aelthic's rage'."

"Aelthic's rage, indeed," her Soulbound replied as the fearless elf threw himself into the fray.

At first, it seemed that Aelthic's flaming spear would win the day. As it nicked the edge of the water serpent's scales, the thing screeched and writhed in pain, steam rising from the place where the elf's blade had struck. But as it realized the mortal danger it faced from the elfin warrior and his magic blade, the creature moved with the speed of flowing water from rock to crevice and back again, evading every strike that Aelthic leveraged at it.

The elf warrior cried out in frustration.

Meanwhile, the giant bear was struggling, slowly drowning beneath the swiftly changing currents of the water serpent. The orc shaman would not accept defeat and inexorably pressed forward, clawing again and again through the serpent's effervescent form only to find himself reaching for empty space rather than his goal of the creature's innermost eye and the seat of its power. The shaman's defiant roar was lost in the bubbles of the snake's watery body, but his will was not broken.

Grunash pushed himself away from the beckoning glow of his enemy's shining red eyes and back to the surface of the water, where he desperately gasped oxygen into his lungs before he dove once again into the body of his mortal enemy, completely unaware that another great warrior labored only a stone's throw away.

The elf was finding as much success at vanquishing the snake as the orc. Utilizing the lightning fast reflexes of his race, Aelthic was able to avoid the swirling tentacles of water that the serpent was sending in his direction but unable to launch a meaningful attack of his own. One step at a time, Aelthic was driven by the serpent towards the steep sides of the gorge until his heels clicked against the rough stone wall.

The elf glanced back, and with another great cry, drove his flaming spear over his own shoulder into the wall of the gorge where it split the solid rock in twain. A small avalanche of dirt and scree fell from this crevice into the rushing body of the water serpent. Where the rock fell, the currents of the snake moved more sluggishly, bound to the earth by the debris from the gorge.

Aelthic ripped his spear from the rock wall and sent it again and again through the slowed section of the serpent. The magical flames from his weapon vaporized the water it touched and, after a few moments, the elf hacked the entire rear section of the serpent off. When the portion of the snake lost touch with its other half, the guiding intelligence of the water fell away and a large part of the monster became numerous, harmless puddles lying dormant on the gorge floor.

The serpent roared as Aelthic hacked at its stump and orc shaman, still battling through the riptide currents of the creature's head, saw the thing's mouth, the size of a small cave, open in the waters in front of him. With a final pull of his mighty arms, the bear propelled himself into the mouth of the monster and his sharpened claws slid through the membrane that separated the beast from the surrounding elements.

With a cry of triumph, Grunash snatched at the thing's red eyes which immediately changed into a bright red gem in his grasp. The moment the shaman did so, the serpent's body completely fell apart, and the orc and elf found themselves staring at each other over the watery remnants of their vanquished foe.

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Immediately, Grunash dropped the gem and rose up on his hind legs before the elf could attack. Throwing back his head, he roared a challenge at this new enemy. The power of his bellow threw the elf from his feet and cracked the trees on the bank behind him.

The startled look on the elf's face alerted Grunash that his combative response had not been foreseen by the elf, who, looking up at the bear, broke into a grin and stood with an easy grace.

"Ah," the elf said, "the day's not over yet," and laughed.

Grunash paused, suspecting perhaps this was a trap. Many times he had fought the elves, besting their finest, but never had one approached the contest with any but the most serious mien. A trail of dead predecessors explained the reason for that.

Yet, this elf seemed to relish the idea of a fight to the death. The shaman looked more closely at his opponent, noticing that he fought attired more like an orc than elf, in close fitting leathers and soft boots rather than shining mail. His face was painted and scarred, his hair loose, wild and arrayed with fetishes. Only his spear spoke of elven craft, ash and knurled for grip along the shaft, broadbladed and bright at the killing end.

Grunash shifted to his orc form and advanced a few paces.

"What right have you to come upon me unawares, elf, as I seek to slay this foe?" he said. "Have you no honor at all?"

At this, the elf flourished his arms and raised his spear in the orcish fashion. "May you never lack for courage and strength, and may you make the War Father proud so that you may feast one day in his halls," the elf said, using the formal orcish greeting to an equal.

"Honoured spiritwalker of the people," he continued, using the shaman's proper title and bowing his head. "I seek only to do what is right by our War Father. Guide me in his ways."

It was Grunash's turn to be startled. Greeted in such a way by one of his tribe, the shaman was bound to give instruction or perhaps a ruling in a dispute. "Where had this Bloodless One learned the ways of my people?" he wondered to himself.

After a few moments of reflection, the shaman replied, "Who are you to ask about the ways of the Father of War? You dress more like my kind than yours, but we are still enemies and surely this will be your last day on Arda."

Again, the elf gave an easy smile. His confidence and poise struck Grunash, intriguing him.

"My name is Aelthic, Honoured Spiritwalker, and we are not enemies, but companions of blood. Did we not both come here to fell this beast? And not as a boon for our people, but for the joy of the contest itself? What better worshippers are there for Father War than us?" he said, waving his spear in a flourish. "If we fight, and one dies, what is that but another offering to the god? Come, let us worship together!"

With that, the elf threw himself at Grunash, who was quick to raise his mace to deflect the spear. Faster than any foe he had ever met or seen, the elf moved as if in a sensuous dance, like he was making not war but love.

Grunash's blood rose with the challenge. Here was a worthy enemy, understanding the joy of the fight, and so heightening his enjoyment as well. He advanced on the elf, swinging right and left with enough force to crush the life from this Aelthic, a fitting tribute to Father War for the god's help in vanquishing the water serpent.

As expected, the elf retreated slowly as Grunash pressed him, but always exacting a small price in blood for each step. The orc's arms and legs were soon dripping with numerous cuts, though none serious enough to slow him.

On and on the battle went. Grunash tried every trick of war he knew, but each time the elf countered and smiled knowingly at him. His arm was tiring now, and his bag of tricks nearly exhausted, but still the elf duck and wove, his face alight with the joy of the contest.

As he fought bravely on, it occurred to Grunash that he had been played. The elf was drawing out his strength, seeking to overcome him by attrition. A fear that he might lose this contest settled into his bones, slowing him further. The shame of it was staggering. "What would my legacy be- slain by a single elf warrior?" he thought. "And who would tell the tale with none of my people present to witness it?"

Despite all this, he couldn't contain his admiration. "What a warrior this elf is!" Grunash admitted quietly to himself. His moves were pure artistry, and in them the orc saw the divine Father of War himself, gliding his way across the battlefield, master of all, ineffable and unconquerable.

Once he saw this similarity, all fear drained away from him. The battle was a ritual to the Great Father, and if he, Grunash, was the sacrifice demanded, so be it.

Noticing the change in the orc's demeanour, the elf laughed. As Grunash resigned himself to his fate, they danced and swayed together, lovers of the god rather than enemies, just as the elf had said.

Yet, the contest could not continue. With a speed Grunash could not follow, the elf deflected his mace and appeared inside his reach, standing against his exhausted opponent. The orc was caught completely off balance and, when Aelthic leaned against him, they toppled over, the elf landing on his chest with a dagger pressed against his throat.

Grunash looked up into the elf's fey, silver eyes and broad smile. He was content here at the end of his life. The battle had been an act of worship, one of the greatest that had ever been, and surely the Father of War would welcome him into his halls.

Aelthic gazed back at him. "No one has ever loved as I have loved. Until you," he said. "I claim now my spoils." Dropping his dagger, Aelthic placed his mouth over the orc's.

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Love smiled at the Soulbound. "Can you see now, how one can worship both Love and War? These two are of a similar spirit, though not one as you are."

Eleanor asked, "Goddess, was this your intent when you bore the race of orcs for War? Did you foresee it all?"

"No child, even the gods cannot see it all, though I saw the possible shape of it," she said. "I had hoped the birth would bring War around to a new point of view, but it was not enough."

"Ares, the god of war," Eleanor said. "The way he treated the goddess of love was not befitting your station."

"That's Ares," she said.

"I don't believe you stood for it, did you?" Eleanor asked.

"I didn't," Love said. "And here is my story." As the goddess spoke, Eleanor and Peridur were transported once more.

The Vanquishment of Ares and the Fires of Love

After the creation of the race of orcs, the goddess rested for a short period of time in her underwater kingdom. For as everyone knows, Love famously stepped naked from the waves on the first day of her existence. Whenever she needs time to recover from the slings and arrows of life, the goddess once again goes underwater.

This time when she emerged from the depths, her lovely body was wrapped in golden ropes that criss-crossed alluringly from one curve to another. Besides the bindings, the goddess was clad in nothing other than seafoam. A thinner piece of the same rope was woven into Venus' hair in the same pattern that covered her body.

All who saw her, mortal and immortal alike, were struck insensate for a few moments by her beauty. But Love had no time for anyone but her careless lover, Ares. Trailing her costume, the goddess made her way into war's domain and marched sensuously into Ares' most private retreat.

When she entered, the god of war was distracted by a game he had constructed out of a miniature colosseum and exquisitely painted iron figures in the shape of orcs, his most favored children. The miniatures came to life within the game board and fought real battles, their war cries echoing throughout the space.

Without a word, Venus approached the god, her bare feet silent on the stone floor of the room. With deft fingers, she unknotted a rope from around her body and began looping it around the god's chest.

Ares looked down at first in surprise, but then amusement. "What game is this?" he asked, turning his head to see Love, who hadn't made an appearance in some time.

"Not a game," she replied, continuing to unloop the bindings from herself and intricately knotting them around War.

The god humored her for a time, allowing himself to be bound and his arms pulled behind him. "You know," he said, testing the ropes for the fit. "There is no containing me when I want to get free."

"Is that so," Venus replied, her tongue resting between her teeth as she focused on carefully constructing another knot. In a few more moments, she was done and came around to stand in front of Ares in all her naked glory, free now of her own ropes.

She smiled sweetly at the god as she ran her hands across her breasts, down her waist and lower still, brushing at the wetness that was building between her thighs. "Have you missed me?" she asked, watching her lover for his reaction.

Which was immediate. Ares pupils dilated as his massive cock began to swell. He pulled against Love's knots, expecting to be free, but to his surprise, the bindings held his arms infuriatingly behind him. He struggled again as Venus tweaked her own pale nipples, making them pucker alluringly beneath her fingertips.

Love looked upon her captive, straining against the magical binding she had placed around him, and mad with frustration to touch and dominate her again. But she had a different lesson in mind for him.

Intoning a cantrip and raising her arm, the chair lifted from the ground and Ares with it. A twist of her hand, and the chair turned until the god of war was tilted almost with his face to the floor. Another cantrip served to unravel the wicker seat of the chair, leaving the god's muscular buttocks exposed.

"What is this?" the god growled, a note of anger in his voice. "Have done with it or else."

"Or else what, my dear Ares," Love chided him. "You know best how men are built for war, and how to deploy them to best effect on the field of battle. But I know another side of men and today you will learn my lesson."

She approached the chair and caressed the god's ass with her soft hands before reaching lower to tease his dangling cock and heavy sack. His large balls, outsized in proportion to the man, looked full and swollen. Her touch was gentle as a feather, barely enough to keep the god interested, and never enough to satisfy the ache building in his groin.