The Solitary Arrow Ch. 01

For his part, Harlen could smell Hyandai on the blanket and himself, and was definitely not displeased with that. He finished folding the thin blanket and put it in his little pack. Then he stooped and picked up his bow and hatchet.

"What do we do now?" Harlen asked, looking around their empty little camp.

"I must try to find Eleean, and learn if he lives or not." Hyandai said. "This is something I have to do. I will not ask it of you."

He hefted his bow onto his back. "You needn't ask. It is given." He said. "Which way do we travel, then?"

Her heart leapt when he said this, knowing it meant that he would be beside her a while longer. She had to admit to herself that she enjoyed his company immensely, and took comfort from his presence.

She pointed south and east. "That way," she said. "toward the rocky hills."

Harlen nodded. "Orcs dwell in those hills." He murmured. "It surprises me little that you would encounter them there. The duke has been unsuccessful in rooting them out." He aimed his blue eyes in that direction. "Then are we ready to go?" He asked Hyandai.

She smiled and stepped beside him, and they set off, walking side by side. She walked so close to him that their arms brushed one another from time to time. He never noticed her taking surreptitious glances in his direction, studying his movements, and watching his face. In the same vein, she did not notice his looks in her direction nor the air of pleasure he seemed to be radiating.

They had walked not ten minutes when she saw something that made her stomach rumble. It was a plum tree, and some of its fruit was ripened, weighing down the tree's limbs with their plump mass.

"Saipior!" Hyandai cried, breaking into a run, then shouted over her shoulder. "Plums!" In Harlen's own tongue of Westron.

He set off after her at a jog. By the time he got there she had plucked one down and was half finished with it. She moaned at the quality of the flavor. "These are perfect." She said around a mouthful of pulp.

Harlen chuckled and plucked himself one. He popped the entire plum into his mouth and split the skin with his teeth. Making a pretty funny face, he managed to extract the pit from the meat, and he fired it out away from them.

She laughed at his method of eating, but said. "Your way of eating them is quite effective, but seems a bit beyond me."

She tried to mimic his technique, but her small mouth would not accommodate the entirety of the plum, so she had to content herself with simply taking bites from them and making rather crude slurping sounds.

After each had eaten half a dozen, Harlen looked at her.

"Somehow, I thought elves to be somewhat more fastidious eaters." He said, propping his back against the trunk of the plum tree.

Wiping a mass of juice and pulp from her lower lip, she said. "Most elves have not been without food for almost a full day and then presented with such delicious fruit." Her eyes were aglitter with the morning sun and her beauty in her moment of joy smote his heart.

The spell was partially broken when she threw a plum at him. He caught it deftly, popping it into his mouth.

As Hyandai turned to pluck down more fruit, a seed shot past her on a trajectory that would have caught her in the back of the head but a half moment before, had she not just moved.

She cast a mock look of anger at Harlen, and he looked away, trying to whistle through a mouthful of plum meat.

She hurled another at him, and again he held up a massive hand and caught it. He did not, however, catch the second that she had thrown with her other hand a half-second after the first. It ricocheted off his shoulder, breaking the soft skin over the very juicy plum. The meat splattered onto his cheek. He looked stunned for a brief moment, as the plum slid down his cheek, then fell to the ground, and bits of it slid more slowly down his cheek.

His hand closed on the plum he had caught, and it ruptured with an audible, slimy noise. There was a fire in his eyes as he lunged toward her. She had a very brief look of panic, then saw the smile he was wearing, and with a playful shriek she took off running.

The rules of the game were simple. If he caught her, he was going to smash plum juice into her face. If she eluded him, until he was winded, she would remain unsullied.

It was a very old game, and both knew the rules without speaking. Children of both races played it, or a variation of it. She could not leave the vicinity of the plum tree. That rule was cardinal. She could not run straight for very far, not that straight-line running would have helped her long, she noted, his much longer legs would have outpaced her quickly.

She changed course erratically. And dived under his outstretched arms more than once. Her elven reflexes were uncanny in his eyes. But his speed and power were amazing to her.

He pursued her around the tree for almost a full minute before she made a critical mistake and misjudged her lunge to elude him. His hand clasped her arm in what was, to her, an unbreakable grip. He did not bear down, did not hurt her, but the fingers would not open, and she was caught. His hand came around, filled with plum pulp. She felt the soft, sweet fruit's moist interior against her nose first.

He intended to do this slowly, and make her suffer through every moment of it.

It slid up her nose, and next the pulp coated her cheeks, covering them in gooey sweet nectar. He brought the mass of the plum meat down toward her mouth, which she opened obligingly, knowing the rules of the game. He pushed some of it inside her mouth and then smeared the rest on her chin.

Both of them were breathing heavily, panting, and they were both smiling.

Harlen leaned close to her. "No girl ever escaped me at that game, milady." He said into her ear. She chewed the plum in her mouth and looked at him, her eyes full of mirth.

"You are a cunning opponent, Harlen." She said. "But you have yet to claim your prize." She added, swallowing the pulp. She turned to him. "As the defeated party, I am ready to suffer the punishment for loss." She said, holding her head up defiantly, as if a defeated enemy commander, ready to suffer execution.

He turned to her again. "You follow those rules, too, in your lands?" He said, and smiled. "Then I will claim my prize, for both my hurt and my victory, and in the name of the Duchy of Morrovale and all humans." He said, as if making a pronouncement, placing one foot up on a root of the plum tree and striking a rather ludicrous pose.

Then he leaned in and kissed her, full on the lips. It was no perfunctory thing, either, but a good, solid connection. Her breath stopped while he kissed her, and she felt her legs turn weak. His legs joined hers in becoming a bit unsteady, but he held fast. He then inhaled, breathing in her cinnamon scent, it was somehow stronger now, and that he thought was nothing but a good thing.

The kiss ended, and then he did something that she never expected. He licked the pulp from one cheek. His tongue was massive to her, and covered most of the cheek, but it was soft, and supple, and left her cheek cleaner than it had been.

She pawed at the just licked cheek. "Ech!" She said. "You licked me!" She was smiling a toothy grin, though. And she was glad at having something to say, for it prevented her just shyly tittering.

Harlen looked around. "Do you see a brook, or a pond about?" His eyes were wide. "We've only one way to get clean, and given that the pulp will become sticky if we let it dry." He gave her a look.

This was not technically part of the game, as she knew it, but seemed a rather pleasant variation.

"Very well, then, Harlen of Morrovale." She said, walking toward him. "But as the lady, I demand to be able to go first." She added. He stood still and she walked up to him. She giggled. "You need to bend down a bit, you giant." She said. He got down on his knees, putting his head at her chest level. "Much better."

She leaned forward, and kissed his cheek with her mouth open, her tongue came out and licked the skin, and she gently sucked as she closed her mouth, taking the bits of meat and the juice with it. She repeated this procedure down his cheek, then onto his neck where the pulp had run. He gasped when she first kissed then sucked upon his neck, it sent jolts of pleasure through him, and he was glad she had her eyes closed. His pants were stretched out badly from his rapidly growing rod. After what seemed a bit longer than necessary, she stood up.

"There. You are now clean." Hyandai said.

Harlen stood up and turned away for a moment, moving his organ to the side, and trying to get it to stop protruding quite so much.

She watched this activity, but pretended to not notice his discomfort, or his large erection. The persistent voice in the far recesses of her mind screamed in frustration.

When he turned back around, she was standing there with her eyes closed and an expectant look on her face. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then cleaned it, tasting the mixed taste of cinnamon and plum. He then cleaned the other cheek, and even licked her nose, causing her to wrinkle it up in a quite adorable fashion.

He then moved to her chin, just below her lips. As he kissed there, her mouth opened slightly, and he made sure that upon licking the pulp up, he let his tongue brush over them.

Her breath was being taken in short gulps of air, but he barely noticed since he was breathing in much the same way.

He worked his way down, beneath her chin to her slender throat. She lilted her head back and he saw the cords of her neck stand out as she did so. Harlen licked and kissed his way down to her collarbone. Moving around the neck to the juice that had dripped from her cheeks, he thoroughly cleaned her skin, one side then the other.

He leaned back then looked down, where her top was holding her breasts in. There was a tiny trickle of juice still slowly working down one breast, then taking a quick turn to descent between them. He leaned down and caught it before it could disappear forever down her cleavage, and licked his way over the softly curving top of her breast, and then onto her chest and back to her collar.

Hyandai gasped at the intimate contact, and her body twitched. She looked down at him. "I wondered when you would stop that one." She said, trying to sound casual, but her voice was a bit quivery.

Harlen leaned back, licking his lips. "I was awaiting it deciding what path to follow." He said, grinning.

They were now reasonably clean and quite satisfyingly full of plums. They both gathered their bows and proceeded southeast.

Hyandai was feeling a bit guilty that she was enjoying herself when her betrothed, Eleean, was quite likely dead, or dying.

She did not love Eleean. He had been selected by her clan, not chosen by her heart. He was a good man from what she had seen, and she probably would have come to love him, in time. Though her heart mourned him, as it would any person she knew was probably dead, it did not shatter, as it would have for someone she truly loved.

Still, she thought, she should not have been playing childish kissing games when he was likely dead at he hands of those foul creatures.

Hyandai had only met Eleean three days before yesterday, and they had formally plaited their betrothal before the representatives of his and her clans. It was an unemotional ceremony, as many elven ones were – elegant and beautiful, to be sure, but lacking in passion and gladness. The first day they spent in preparation of their journey, unlike most betrothed, who spent the first day after the ceremony becoming very acquainted with one another in a most personal way.

The following day they had set out. The two had still not yet consummated their betrothal, and she was still a maiden. A dreadful humor was it that Harlen, in his sleep, had managed to come much closer to that particular achievement than did Eleean.

Elves, she concluded, were too entwined in their need for ceremony. Without a proper bower and surroundings, and even the right foods and such, Eleean would never have attempted to bed her. She had no doubt that the large, powerful human beside her would do so, on the ground, right now, with people watching, if she but asked it.

The rather forbidden thought sent chills down her spine. She, once again, had to thrust back thoughts and images that came unbidden to her mind's eye, sent from places in her mind that were best left unvisited.

Humans were much more impetuous than most elves. Harlen had enough meticulousness to make that not seem so dangerous in and of itself, but he was still prone to fits of whimsy that would probably take her utterly by surprise and be unbelievably thrilling.

She chuckled to herself. She had always been called impetuous by her clansmen. They often advised her to control her fey better, and be less 'human.'

It was mostly a joke, though there were those that did think that humans and elves once interbred much more commonly than today. Perhaps she did have a small bit of human essence to her. It was not all bad. Her quick wit and ability to adapt had served her well over the years. The same clansmen had said that it limited her eligibility for marriage, but she could not change who she was, and really did not seek to.

Harlen, for his part, wondered that this elegant creature beside him had allowed him to kiss her, much less seemed to enjoy it as much as he did. He was amazed that she seemed to like him and, more importantly, was attracted to him. Unsure as he was, he started to feel that she was sending him the very 'signals' that he and other men had discussed for many an hour at the Pierced Boar, over beer and ale.

He was not blind, and saw how she watched him when he was doing things. However, Harlen would remain the gentleman, and would let her decide if and when things would happen. Another part of his mind wished fervently she would do so.

Harlen's worst fear was that he would scare or offend this beautiful maiden, and she would disappear back into the woods whence she came.

He had told Hyandai of his grandmother's fascination with elven folk, but not of the fact that she had passed that fascination down to her only grandchild. Just seeing one would have thrilled him for years to come, but now he had kissed her, lain beside her, and even tended her wounds. He would not want for any amount of time for things to think of in all that. However, the desire for good things being what it was, he certainly did not want it to end unless it must.

They slowly passed the transition from the woods to the stony slopes of the eastern hills. This was a range of low but steep-walled hillocks and a land of hidden ravines and secret grottos. Harlen told Hyandai that his people called these hills the Wayreen Hills, an ancient Syrisian word that meant ill portents.

Around them the trees gave way to smaller scrubby plants, and the ground became treacherous with slick, broken fragments of stone. Small flat shale stones that were wont to slide against one another and leave a person with their feet shooting out from under them.

They proceeded cautiously, as there was little cover in this area. At Harlen's suggestion, they both drew forth an arrow, and set them to the strings of their bows. Without his suggestion they both held their bows in white-knuckled grips. As Harlen had said, it was orc country, and the monsters could be anywhere in it.

She said. "We are near to where they attacked Eleean and me." Her voice was almost a whisper.

Harlen simply nodded and looked over the next rise in the scalloped shoulders of the hills. "I think I see where they ambushed you." He said after dropping back down.

Hyandai peered over the ledge. Then she ducked back down beside him. "Yes, that is the place." She agreed. "I did not see any orcs about, though."

Harlen looked again. "I see none, either." He said, and climbed over the lip.

Hyandai followed close on his heels. They approached the scene of the fight. Three orcs laid dead there, along with the body of Eleean, the hunter guessed, though he lay face down. He had been hewn badly, and was defiled beyond even that.

"I'm sorry, Hyandai." He said when he heard her start to weep.

Then they heard the sound of a rock falling from the scree nearby. "'Ere, now. I told you I heard something!" A guttural voice yelled as the couple spun around. "It's that little bunny what escaped us yesterday." They spun to see six orcs sliding and tumbling down a nearby slope of loose scree. Two were huge brutes, and the other four of the smaller sort, like had been chasing Hyandai in the wood.

One of the other orcs said. "We're going to have us some fun with that one, eh?" He leered at Hyandai, drawing out a massive scimitar.

The two large ones looked intently at Harlen. Their eyes gleamed murderously red. "First, we're going to deal with that one!" One said, pulling a club as big as Harlen's leg from behind himself, where it had been hooked to the creature's belt.

Mercifully, the entire group was on one side of the couple. Harlen and Hyandai spun to face them.

Harlen brought up his bow and aimed at the neck of the leading large orc. The arrow was on its way before the orc even realized the human had a bow, its eyes widened as the arrow sank to the fletching in his leathery neck.

Hyandai fired an instant later, hitting one of the smaller orcs in the chest, and spinning him about, as if he were struck by a spear. The arrow had pierced right through the metal plates on his jerkin.

Both of these orcs fell, the large one slowly, gurgling as he dropped to his great knees and then keeling over onto his face. The small one fell as well, spinning as the arrow thudded into his chest and sending him sprawling across the ground.

The other large orc said. "Now, that weren't very friendly, were it? Eh boys?" It asked.

The next thing Harlen saw was a huge stone flying directly toward his head, as if fired by a catapult. He very nearly dodged it, but it clipped his skull and sent him reeling. He fell to his knees upon the scree and fought to retain consciousness.

Hyandai was already firing, and another of the smaller orcs fell. The barbed head pierced his gut and sent him to the ground, squealing loudly in agony.

"Shut him up, Snatbug." The remaining large orc shouted. "Or he'll bring down more boys, and I don't want to share our little bunny. Leastwise not yet." One of the smaller orcs looked down at his fallen companion with cold eyes. He then brought his scimitar around and down, and severed the screaming orc's head, even as the downed orc held up a hand imploringly. The orc's blood showered the stones for many feet.

Harlen managed to regain his feet, but the big one was on him. Its fist drove into the hunter's chest like a ram, knocking him sprawling to the ground.

The other small orc, one of two left, managed to get a swing in at Hyandai, and forced her back. She dropped her bow and drew out her rapier with a fast, quiet hiss of steel on leather.

The little one said. "Lookie there. Our little bunny has a claw, maybe she's a pussy cat instead." He leered at Hyandai and stuck out an amazingly long tongue, waggling it at her.

With a lightning fast twitch of her wrist, the first four inches of that tongue separated from the remainder and fell to the ground. The orc recoiled and screamed. It was yelling something incomprehensible, made even more so by his missing tongue.

The other small orc laughed at his companion's misfortune. "Cat got your tongue, Grizzleslot?" He said, cuffing the back of the tongueless orc's head. "Put down your sword, stupid." He grated. "We won't be able to have fun with her later if you cut her up." The two began to move closer to the elf maiden.