The Solitary Arrow Ch. 20

"Rest well, ranger." She said quietly as he sat upon the bed and started to remove his boots.

The door shut and he started unclasping the straps that held the chainmail around him. "Gor, but I'm too old for this shit." Tammer grunted as he let the armor slide off his shoulders and onto the bed. The padded suit beneath he untied slowly, his tired hands uncooperative. "Dammit. I guess I'll just sleep in the damn thing." He said sourly and began to lay down.

There was a quiet rap upon the door of his chamber.

"What?" He said crossly.

The door opened and another elven woman was silhouetted in the doorway by the morning sun. "What is it, miss?" He asked.

The elf stepped into his room and said. "Do you wish help with your armor, Master Tammer?"

"Do you think it proper for a young lady to help an old man disrobe?" Tammer asked, his voice somewhat impatient. Who had sent this poor girl on such a silly errand?

The elf maiden stepped closer. "You think, Tammer, that there is anything you have beneath that quilted coat that I have not witnessed before?" The elven girl said. Her voice made thoughts, long suppressed, swim up from his memories.

"Loskenhaur?" Tammer said, blinking in the dim room. "Is it you? After these years?"

The elven girl knelt before him. "It is, Tammer." She said, her cool, slender fingers touching his wrinkled face. "The years for you have been long."

Tammer chuckled. "Yes, they have, but they have been good years." He said. "And for you?"

"Good, yes, they have been good to me, also." Loskenhaur said, her fingers deftly unstitching the padded suit.

His eyes were growing used to the low light, and he could see her fine dark hair, red that neared black in color. He could also see her large, luminous eyes, watching his face, their silver flashing with collected light.

Tammer reached out a hand, somewhat gnarled with age and misuse, but still strong, and stroked her flawless cheek. "You're still the most beautiful creature my eyes have ever beheld." Tammer said, tears rolling down his cheeks.

The last knot came loose and she lifted the padded tunic from him. He was an old man, she could see, his once powerful body sagged now, and was a little bent. He was still strong though, Loskenhaur could also see, muscles still flexed under the loose skin. She then knelt again, setting the tunic aside and unfastening his belt.

"I can manage that much." Tammer said.

She smiled up at him. "You act as if I do not wish to unclothe you." She said. "I do."

He stood as she pulled down the loose pants and slid them off one of his feet, then the other. With a lithe, smooth motion, she rose to her own feet, and regarded him.

Nervously, Tammer reached out his hands and slipped the thin straps of the gown Loskenhaur was wearing to the sides of her shoulders. The gown, some cloth of very sheer material, accordioned and pooled about her tiny feet, like it was a cream-colored liquid.

He beheld her long, slim form again, after long years, and the memory that had seared itself into his mind did not betray him. She looked almost identical, perhaps a bit more hip, and her breasts may be a touch fuller now, but this body was one he beheld, and touched, and loved for a year and a day.

Loskenhaur took him about the waist and pulled him to her. Pressing her taut, warm body to his. Her lips felt like liquid fire as she kissed him, then parted his lips with her small, darting tongue. As the kiss lingered, he felt a warmth entering him, subtle but present, she was feeding him energy, as she sometimes had in his youth, when his strength flagged.

This was different, though, he felt, it went deeper, and it filled him with a fire, not just a warmth. His arms, heavy with fatigue, lightened, then became once again the strong instruments of his will. His legs, wavering in his exhaustion, strengthened, and once more bore him effortlessly.

After long moments, the kiss ended, and Loskenhaur looked upon him, smiling. "Tammer, it took you long enough to become a true hero." She said.

He smiled at her, stroking her hair. "Had I known that such a reward was granted a hero, I would have become one years ago." His eyes widened as he caught sight of something in her hair, and he tilted his head and moved closer.

Interspersed with her long, nearly black strands of red were now dozens, nay, hundreds of silver strands, glinting in the little light that penetrated the curtains. He looked again upon her face, and beheld slight wrinkles about her eyes and mouth, smile lines, that had not been there before.

"What have you done?" Tammer asked Loskenhaur.

She smiled very gently and kissed him again. "I gave you your reward from my people." She said, pulling back. She looked at him a moment then said. "Now, I offer you your reward from Loskenhaur."

He kissed her again, and they then held one another as she felt his tears upon her shoulder. She stroked the long hairs of his pony tail, formerly all silver, and now peppered with black strands once again, the black she remembered from many years before.

Her ruby lips pressed to the cup of his ear. "Tammer, do you remember how you would take me after being gone for a few days upon a long hunt?" She whispered, her warm breath causing shocks of energy to shoot down his spine. "You said that it was because we were apart so long."

Tammer nodded. "Yes." He said.

She smiled so widely, he could feel her muscles move against his cheek. "It has been a very, very long time."

Suddenly, she was lifted from the floor by arms that seemed no longer tired, nor old. With a giggle she had the air knocked from her lungs as Tammer slammed her back to a wall with his entire body. Troskenhaur would have sworn the entire bower rocked with the impact.

She wrapped her long arms and legs about him and coaxed him with her voice. "Take me as if you really missed me." She said, into his ear. "For I have sorely missed you, Ranger of Morrovale."

The head of his organ pressed against her tight opening, then into her moist insides. She pitched her hips forward and felt Tammer grab her rump with both hands and pull her onto him, driving the shaft of his cock deep into her in one fast motion.

She cried out in the mixture of pleasure and pain that marked their lovemaking years before. Her soprano voice called out his name as he thrust into her again and again, earnestly and with an intense longing. He had missed her, and seemed to wish to make it up in one bout of ferocious energy.

The force and intensity caused her some pain, but she forbore it, desiring to give this man she had loved, did love, what he wished to take. Soon, though, her body grew used to the size of his organ and accommodated him, then felt pleasure as he continued driving into her slight body.

The two of them had been good together, she recalled as her climax approached. Much the same thought ran through Tammer's mind. They both gauged their timing, as they had often and they both came in the same moment. Tammer and Loskenhaur screamed their pleasure into the darkened room and startled passers by upon the platform nearby.

She smiled as he slowed and then moved her legs under herself. "Now that was a well received gift. But, I am not sure who was the giver." Loskenhaur said, panting into his neck.

Tammer grinned. "I've no doubt who gave something and who received the blessing." He said. Kissing her soft neck still through her silken hair.

Loskenhaur held him as she gently moved them toward the bed. "Now, let us rest, so that we will be refreshed for the celebrations sure to come this night." She said as she pushed him back upon the bed and sat beside him.

They curled up with one another and were soon asleep, Loskenhaur pressed to his front and the two interfolded with each other in a way Harlen and Hyandai would well recognize.

All in all, the aftermath of the battle was far from utterly forlorn.