Lover's Moan

*****Note: the events in this tale take place after Lover's Moon, though it is a stand alone story.*****

What should a half-breed ranger do when she has a furious dwarf lord on her tail, especially if she has tricked the lord out of his booty? By my estimation, she should gallop home as fast as her trusty mare could take her... so I did.

Home for me was an aerie in Blackthorn Forest. Hidden deep in the verdant woodland, my leafy abode was in the upper boughs of the largest blackthorn I could find. I had built it limb by heavy limb and vine by bulky vine. It was a long and dreary labor, but a necessity if I wanted somewhere to lay my head. There was no place for me with my father's people and no peace in me with my mother's kin. Blackthorn had become my sanctuary, my place of being.

I was headed pell-mell for the safety of my woodland domain. I knew it was the one place where Ursin Bgrin would not be able to find me. Not that dwarves had the skill of tracking that my elven cousins had, but they did have an uncanny sense of direction. That ability usually enabled them to find whatever they were looking for and with minimum effort. However, Blackthorn loved me as I loved it. The forest would protect me.

It was still a half day's ride to my aerie abode when my mare stumbled and fell. She tried to get up, a noble and valiant creature to the bones. I could see the whites of her eyes as she thrashed around. She was in pain, extreme pain. I could not bring myself to force her onward. I pulled my pinned leg out from under her and inspected the damage while I soothingly patted her flank and murmured soft words of encouragement.

Glancing up at the midday sun, I mentally counted the hours since I bolted from the Gilded Lily and my 'mark'. Ursun Bgrin would be awake by now. The sleeping spell I had uttered as he lay deeply embedded in my pussy should have worn off hours ago. He would have a raging headache, a raging hard-on and a raging temper. Since dwarves were known to have all three as a regular occurrence, to submit one to a spell-cast with those aftereffects was catastrophic. It would be throwing hot oil on a burning man.

I continued to stroke Nimeria as I weighed my options. My situation was bleak, to be sure. I had not bothered to cover my tracks, relying on speed not stealth. As I said, Blackthorn would save me. I had to get there quickly, but how?

Nimeria whinnied softly. I placed a comforting hand on her velvety nose as I began to scan the horizon. Speed was not an option now, so craft and cunning would have to suffice. I was in Dimwell Dell and the only "safe" havens were the barrows. They lumped the gently sloping terrain like the pox. I shivered, but not from cold. The barrows of Dimwell were deadly at night. My plan had been to pass through the dell while the sun was high in the midday sky. I glanced at my trembling mare. By the look of it, we would be staying the night while the barrow wights waltzed and wailed around us.

"Orc shit!" I cursed aloud, knowing there was none but Nimeria to hear me. I would not leave her to suffer and I could not bear to put her down. She was my best friend, my only companion. I loved her as I loved no other. A tear coursed down my cheek and I brushed it angrily away. This was not the time for weeping, but for a clear head and swift action. I placed my hand on her bony brow and uttered a sleeping spell.

Alas, I had not the gift of healing. Still, I could put anything to sleep in a trice. My talent served me well once more. The mare's lids fluttered shut and her breathing changed from the short gusts of discomfort to the more restful puffs of slumber. I sighed in relief. I could deal with the problem of Nimeria in the morning, if we survived the night. With a slight wince at the pain in my leg, I pulled a small pack off her backside and rifled through it.

I traveled light. There was naught in the leather satchel but a change of clothing, a cleansing stone and cloth, some waybread, a wine skin and Ursun's map. I slipped the map in the waist of my breeches. A snug fit, but I liked it that way. There was more freedom of movement in the form-fitting garb of my mother's elf relations than in the silly frilled gowns and flouncy loose robes of my father's human folk. Being half-elven had its rewards.

Unsheathing my knife, I began to carve a large circle in the turf around Nimeria and me. It would be the boundary of my ward. If I remembered the spell and cast it correctly, wights and creatures from the otherworld would be unable to cross. I uttered a prayer to Qura, my mother's god. I hoped it worked. It had better work, or I would forever haunt in the world of the undead.

For a while I concentrated on my labor, intently making the most impenetrable barrier possible. The sun had shifted well to the west before I stopped my toil. This was a casting I'd had little use for and therefore, little experience with. It took way too much time and effort on my part; I wasn't completely sure of its success. The sun dipped lower and began to cast its radiant hues. The ward, though flawed, would have to do.

Straightening, I glanced back toward Cassay, the port town home of the Gilded Lily. Nothing moved in the distance, no puffs of dust or clouds of startled birds. All was well. Not that I expected to see Ursun galloping frantically toward me with a battle ax in one hand and a mace in the other. If memory served me right, he was said to favor a war hammer instead of the mace.

My growling stomach told me to feed and I went about the task with vigor. If I had to suffer through a night in a barrow down, it might as well be with a full belly. I was not keen on cooking at the best of times and this was one of the worst. So, I scavenged some wild greens and roots, stuffing them in my mouth as I went. I washed them down with waybread, and bitterbrew from my wine skin. It was a fitting supper to cap off the ending of an orc-shit of a day.

Nimeria slumbered fitfully it seemed, in spite of the cantrip. For the hundredth time, I wished I had paid more attention to the castings that my father, a wizard of the First Order, had tried to teach me. I caught the easy ones: sleep, glamour, seduction, invisibility and a few other trifling spells. I used them too often and in ways that would cause my staid father despair, if he had but known. The harder ones like healing and protection, mind bending and possession: those I had distained to learn. Qura! They would have served me well.

My belly sated, I settled against Nimeria to wait it out. The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, casting rose-gold hues and gilding the dell with glorious brilliance. Beauty was lost on me, however spectacular. I was too keyed up in anticipation of the night to come. I might survive the wights; I was unsure if I would survive Ursun.

I built a small fire by speaking flames into existence, a cantrip I used to play with as a child. Now I gave it the respect it was due, for a fire keeps wights and other evils at bay. I smiled my relief. The flames flickered merrily along the dried grasses I had braided together for fuel during my preparations for the night. I felt better about my prospects and began to relax, taking another strong pull at the wineskin.

O, bitterbrew! T'would be my undoing! I had been drinking all evening; the skin was nigh empty and it had its effect. The proof was in my mellow mood. I leaned my head onto Nimeria's dark flank, closed my eyes and began to sing softly a tune of elvish revelry. The tune was rife with sensual elements. My unbridled thoughts slipped toward Ursun and our almost 'fuck-fest'.

Images of the sexy dwarf flooded my mind as I recalled the vivid blue of his eyes, the glimmering gold of his hair, the sensual curve of his pouty mouth. My breeches felt tight as my cuny began to heat. I felt liquid gold between my thighs as I remembered the sight of his thick member severing the flesh of the dwarf wench as I pilfered his map below. The dark, sweet smell of sex assailed my senses at the recollection. My mouth watered even as my cunt wept and wanted.

I loosened the ties of my breeches, wriggling a little as I slipped my hand beneath the thin leather. My song became more of a moan as I brushed my fingers down, down, across my tight belly and yet deeper still. I found the velvety smooth skin of my pussy lips and gasped as wanton fingers thrummed a swollen nub. I had no restraint; I needed none. My mind was fixed firmly on the sight, sound, and scent of Ursun as he rocked his whore while I stole his treasure at the Gilded Lily.

Tight circles, round and round, harder and harder, my hips arching and my legs trembling, I rode the waves of pleasure higher and higher. With a rush and a loud moan of pleasure, sweet release was mine. My head thumped back and Nimeria whinnied. "Forgive me," I whispered, unsure if I spoke to Nimeria, to Ursun or to myself. It did not matter. I was lost anyway.

My body quivered uncontrollably and my pussy still ached with vengeful compulsion. By the goddess, I needed more! My breath hitched as I remembered the way my quim melted when his attention turned from the whore to me. My body recalled the delicious way his thick organ split my cuny wide open. I wanted, nay needed, to be filled so completely. My empty vagina demanded it. I slipped my breeches further down and kicked them off, unmindful of the nipping cold. The fire within burned hotly; it was more than enough. I spread my legs as wide as I could and slipped a finger into my pussy. The ache did not assuage.

Groaning in frustration, I plunged two, then three fingers into my tight, wet hole. Oh, oh, oh... not enough pressure to satisfy my need for thick dwarf cock. I leaned forward, intent on my task as I drove all five digits into my hungry maw. I watched my pussy lips consume my balled fist as I rubbed my clit hard with my other fingers. It hurt, yes, oh yes. Ah, but so had Ursun and my pain-filled pleasure spiraled up and up. Tears filled my eyes.

My hole was stretched to bursting and yet it felt so good. I pulled my hand out to my knuckles then drove it in again. Another bout of tears rained down my cheeks and dripped fresh brine on my quivering breasts. I caught my breath in a ragged gasp and thrust again and again. My hips strained up to meet each tight and frenzied assault. Stabs of ecstasy shot through my cuny. My breathing labored, my sight grew hazy. I wanted to cum, gods, needed to cum so badly.

A vision of Ursun straining above me, his thick pole slick with my juices, his startling blue eyes staring into mine, and my body longing for him and only him....

I threw back my head and screamed as orgasm ripped right through me. I think I shouted Ursun's name, I don't know. It didn't matter, for he appeared like an enchantment, an apparition in the dark beyond my spell-charmed ward. Flame-light licked along his broad chest and shoulders and ignited golden sparkles in his long flowing hair and beard. His eyes bored hotly into mine and I saw his hands clench tightly at his sides. A cruel lift of the lips twisted his mouth and my gut heaved as I remembered the way those lips had caressed me in the inn. I thought he was a figment of my heated imagination, a mere specter of my lust and my desire- until I heard him growl.

"Hungry for me, are you, elf-bitch?"

My belly wrenched again in agony. The Lord of Clan Baradur had found me.