Midsummer

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

Chapter 6: Midnight

It was a soft melody that echoed off the trees and flowed through the soft, warm breeze like a part of the air. The voices of the two elves were music to Catti-brie's ears; every breathy sigh, every passioned moan, and every scream like a dove's cry flew through the trees and filled her entire being with a tingling heat. She laid her head against the coarse, ancient bark of the oak, her thick, auburn hair acting as almost a cushion. The rest of her back reclined against the trunk, though her legs were spread apart and bracing her on the ground, allowing her plenty of stability and room for her loins to savor every stroke of her small fingers as the tingle coursed through. Her pace quickened, though her body remained still, though her stomach and back muscles slightly rippling.

As the volume of the elves' passion increased, so did the warmth and tightness through her own form. She knew the male voice belonged to Drizzt, her old love, and the other belonged to Innovindil, her good friend, yet this did not bother her in the least. In fact the forbidden nature of this affair seemed to entice her even more. Occasionally, she would open her eyes and look around. There was always a possibility that some passing elven hunter could pass by and catch her in her middle of this rather intimate act; a possibility that fueled her passion more. She kept her eyes wide open as her strokes became stronger and she allowed her lungs to release a loud sigh. Catti-brie had played safe her entire life and she now realized she was tired of this cautious complacency; it was time to court danger in some matter in her life other than battle.

The heat rose; as did her sighs as well as the elves' moans and screams. A pulse rippled through her lower muscles as the rush set in. Catti-brie let out a small cry and doubled over, allowing her body to carry out its natural pleasure as she savored the tingling light-headedness. At last, she drew her hand out of her black leather trousers, flexed upwards so her back was against the trunk, and gently let her legs give out so she ended up in a sitting position; her legs spread out in front of her as her auburn hair cushioned her buzzing head against the hard bark. With a happy laugh, she closed her blue eyes and listened carefully as Drizzt let out a series of loud moans that resembled screams while Innovindil merely ended with a few sighs and a shrill, airy cackle.

Catti-brie could not here them any more, their pleasured silence concealed by the chirping of birds and the distant hum of pan pipes. She took a few deep breathes and savored the lingering rush, wondering why she had never done anything like that before. It was an act of pleasuring her body, yet she was in full control and knowing exactly which of her parts would react when touched where. Wulfgar and Drizzt, while fabulous lovers, would never be as skilled in their efforts as she was with her own body.

Catti-brie gave another airy laugh as she listened to the distant pipes…and the new echoes of Innovindil's sigh. Apparently they decided to have another go. Drizzt must indeed have the stamina, she thought. After all, he is very young; only an adolescent just beginning to appreciate pleasures of the flesh. Catti-brie closed her eyes again and savored the increasing sighs and moans, feeling her loins tighten as the urge grew again. In instinct, she began reaching the same hand into her trousers, only to stop the second her knuckles reached the top of the belt. The feeling was desperation, but this wasn't the way to satisfy her craving. It was merely a small sliver of deer meat when she was hungry enough for the whole buck; the smallest bit would only make her hungrier.

With a loud groan, she picked herself up off the ground and came to her feet, steadying herself for a second while lingering a second to hear the moans growing louder. With a lingering shiver, she walked away from that tree back in the direction of the village with a definite goal in mind; she would go back to the party and find a nice, amorous elven lord who would be perfectly willing to satisfy a maiden's needs on that Midsummer's Eve. She could probably find the mage…whatever his name was, or maybe another gentleman, like that handsome, black-haired lute player. The only problem was trying to convince him to ignore the entire idea of Drizzt.

Catti-brie plotted her course as she meandered through the wood, keeping in mind the general direction of the party yet not being in too much focus to follow the immediate path. The sound of Drizzt and Innovindil's moans, which were now breathy yells, gradually faded as her ears trained on the sounds of running water, pan pipes, and…Jarlaxle's shrill laugh?

On reflex, Catti-brie ducked into the brush and looked out in the direction of the noise. The Midsummer brush may have been heavy, yet the sight of that bald, onyx head stuck out through the green. Keeping her cover in the thick foliage, she carefully stepped closer and got a better look at the dark elf, who sat down in a small clearing, reclining against a mossy rock while; his ebony hands were behind his head and his face was locked in that usual grin. She took a better look at the clearing to see a small, black tea kettle set on a blue flame that seemed to come from the grass as its contents steamed. Standing over the kettle was Nialian, whose silver hair almost obscured his lined face, which was turned towards Jarlaxle and wearing a look of complete happiness. Both were talking in Elven and laughing heartily, though she could hardly hear the conversation.

Catti-brie's eyes fixed on Jarlaxle; a sight painful at first but one on which she forced her gaze. She had lived in absolute hatred of this man for so many reasons, though she was tired of holding this ancient grudge for no apparent reason. Maybe this moment would give her perfect reason to despise him once more, yet maybe she could learn to view him as more of a neutral presence. While Drizzt had come to some kind of understanding about the mercenary despite nearly losing his life by his last arrangement, Catti-brie was still not as impressed.

While much of her anger had to do with the horrible incident in Cryshal-Tirith, her most fiery rage came from recollections of her moment as his captive in Menzoberranzan. She remembered sitting in a chair in Bregan D'aerthe headquarters; Jarlaxle running his small fingers through her hair as if almost petting her while she sat in absolute terror, waiting for her death or defilement as she imagined Drizzt suffering unspeakable horrors in the dungeons of House Baenre. The worse never happened in any case, she recalled with a small sigh of relief as she stared at Jarlaxle, taking in his widened grin and hearty laugh at a comment Nialian made about something she had not heard. He did actually treat her with the utmost respect all the while arranging their escape.

I should be thanking him, she thought, not despising him.

Nialian took the kettle off the magic flame and produced two clay cups from his robes, handing one to Jarlaxle and sitting down close beside him. The old priest poured the kettle into Jarlaxle's mug, a brownish liquid with a pretty, orange essence that wafted to her location. Nialian poured some into his own mug and leaned forward to put the kettle back on the blue flame. He then leaned back against the wide boulder, his shoulder almost reclining on Jarlaxle's. Catti-brie craned her neck to get a better listen to the conversation, yet she could not hear much without moving forward and possibly alerting her location; though that was not going to stop her. She took a cautious step forward, still keeping herself concealed in the brush while able to make out the words distinctly.

"Do you ever think that companion of yours will master the dragon's flute?" Nialian asked with a laugh.

"Well, enough to make the sound a little less painful," Jarlaxle replied. "Even after three years, that thing still eludes him, though our employers just keep prodding him along. Perhaps he could take some lessons from you."

"Yes, I am sure this prickly bastard would be willing to come here and sit down for music lessons with an old elf."

"He has actually relaxed quite a bit. I can almost imagine he allowed his nurse in Cormyr to tuck him in."

"Though how well was he dealing with those charming little bug bears?"

"I am sure they warmed up to each other. Maybe he is not snarling at them as much."

"Of course you are rushing through that portal back to him," Nialian said with a laugh.

"No, Master Artemis is capable of caring for himself. Besides, it was good to get out for a while and enjoy some…old company."

Nialian laughed again and leaned his head against Jarlaxle's chest. Jarlaxle ran his fingers through Nialian's silver hair; just like he did with her, Catti-brie recalled. She sat in absolute awe of this beautiful, comfortable moment. She got the impression that both of them had been good friends at some point in time. Maybe that was the reason her was here now, only his entrance was not the grand display he originally intended. Jarlaxle stroked Nialian's hair as a wide smile formed on the priest's face; a pure look of happiness. Maybe that was Jarlaxle's way of being affectionate, not maliciously so, but in general.

The two elves remained quiet. Catti-brie's gaze never left Jarlaxle. He was without that grand, plumed hat and jeweled eye patch. He was clad in a plain, yet elegant, white shirt and black leather trousers, a simple enough outfit that was nothing compared to that high cut vest he wore on every other occasion in which she had seen him. The drow was even without his many pieces of jewelry, even his earlobes were adorned with small holes where gold earrings had once been. He was like a prince outside his palace; the gold and plumed façade had been peeled off to now reveal the simple flesh and blood underneath. It was a sight that fascinated Catti-brie; she could clearly see that soft, bald head and long pointed ears typical of any elf regardless of skin color. His white eyebrows seemed to have a higher arch than other elves, giving him an almost aristocratic visage. The most astounding sight was that both his bright, ruby eyes were visible; pools of red that illuminated in the moonlight.

He is actually quite handsome, she thought to herself, letting her eyes trail over his small, ebony neck and down to the partially opened shirt, getting at good a look as she could at the exposed flesh and taut muscle underneath. She then caught herself wishing that shirt was opened just a few buttons more.

Jarlaxle put his head down and rested it in Nialian's hair, turning his face in slightly and kissing the top of his head. Nialian turned his gaze up, both eyes gazing into each other before both leaned in and locked their lips in a passioned, yet tender kiss. Catti-brie registered a small squeak coming from her throat as her eyes widened at the sight of Jarlaxle and Nialian's kiss. She had seen passionate gestures between two men before in her travels, though the sight of two men she knew exchanging kisses was positively…exciting.

The kiss deepened and both mouths were open, both tongues dancing softly. Jarlaxle's hand continued caressing Nialian's hair and gradually found its way down to his thin shoulder, gently pulling him in further. Both of Nialian's hands crept to Jarlaxle's shoulders, one trailing down and caressing the exposed flesh on his chest. Jarlaxle's hand move down from its position on his partner's shoulder, caressing his back, then forward to his chest, and gradually moving downward. Catti-brie felt her loins tighten, her gaze mostly focused on Jarlaxle, who opened his eyes slightly in a look of blissful peace as a small sigh came from his thin lips. He no longer looked like the evil, scheming monster but another elf savoring simple passion. It was indeed a beautiful sight.

Nialian then froze, gradually pulling back from Jarlaxle's kiss; his face was now dead serious and slightly sad. Jarlaxle recognized his partners cease and slowly opened his eyes in a look of incredulity.

"It cannot be like this," Nialian said with a small shake of the head.

"Like the way it was?" Jarlaxle replied, his voice calm but with a hint of anger.

"Like the way it was three hundred fifty years ago, Jarlaxle," Nialian replied sadly. "I am not the spry man you remembered and we would only be trying to capture an ancient moment."

Jarlaxle's face twisted into a look of building rage, though his eyes remained wide in surprise. Nialian gave him a steady, serious gaze, readying himself for what the drow may do next. Catti-brie crept further into the brush, a hand coming to the hilt of her sword. Jarlaxle's gaze then softened slightly to one of deep hurt.

"I…understand, Nialian," he said softly, his voice taking a slight crack as he pulled back, removing his hands from Nialian's shoulders.

Nialian relaxed, managing a sad smile. Jarlaxle turned around and gave a long sigh. The two sat in an uncomfortable silence for a small while, both looking away as they trained their emotions and got in control of themselves.

"It appears your tea had an extra effect on me," Jarlaxle said with a strained laugh. "Would I be in much danger if I took care of some natural business in the woods?"

Nialian gave a small chuckle as he reached into his robe and pulled out a green jeweled ring. The old priest closed his eyes for a second as he whispered a series of magical phrases. The ring glowed for a second before fading to its natural silvery luster.

"Consider this a gift," Nialian said, handing the ring to Jarlaxle, who took it cautiously while examining the carved band. "As long as you are in this area, it will conceal your aura. If you run into any trouble, just tap the stone three times and I will appear at your location."

"As long as I am in this area?" Jarlaxle asked, making a miserable attempt at sounding polite.

"As long as you are within five hundred feet of me. If you venture further, all its properties fade and you are on your own."

"Why Nialian, are you giving me a little free rein?"

"I have to return to the village and I don't think you want to spend the night locked up in that stuffy cabin."

"So you trust me to be on my best behavior?"

Nialian slowly raised, his weak legs giving the effort to bring him to a stand.

"Perhaps I do," the priest said with a small smile.

He then bowed low and started walking to the village. Nialian then stopped and turned around to face Jarlaxle, who still sat in the grass staring at him.

"This is a night of celebration, Jarlaxle," he said. "And we will celebrate our happiness side by side this Midsummer."

"Of course we will, old friend," Jarlaxle replied, though his voice was still strained.

Nialian gave him one last sad look before slowly turning around and pacing into the woods.

Jarlaxle's gaze followed him until the frail form was no longer in sight. He then gave another long sigh and put his head in his hands. Catti-brie saw his hands were shaking and he tried almost desperately to regain his composure. He did not merely look like a man who was denied physical pleasure but a man with a broken heart. She even swore she saw a small tear come from one of his red eyes before being brushed away like it was an annoying speck.

This was yet another sight that completely drew her in. Catti-brie was used to seeing Jarlaxle so cool and cocky, only expressing his emotions in glares and icy words. She had no idea he was even capable of showing any emotions at all, nor did he even have a heart to break. Catti-brie truly knew she was seeing this creature in his purest form; a man and not a monster.

Jarlaxle gave another sigh before rising and ambling towards the woods; right in her direction. Catti-brie hastily stepped away, trying not to rustle too many leaves or break any branches as Jarlaxle stepped forward. He then stopped at the tree line and then lowered his hands to his trouser strings. Catti-brie's eyes widened as he casually undid the strings and pulled his phallus from the leather, though it was obvious soon enough that he wasn't lying to Nialian about the effects of the tea.

Catti-brie averted her gaze, but a nagging curiosity overcame her once again. She slowly raised her eyes and allowed her gaze to fall on Jarlaxle's truly exposed form. He was quite well endowed, she noted. The same was true for Drizzt as well; making her wonder if all drow males were so…gifted. She remembered being twelve and walking through the woods only to find Wulfgar doing his business outside the caves; she would also try to focus on returning home while not being able to resist a look at his "naughty parts" as some of the village women referred to that part of the anatomy. It was a recollection that drew an involuntary giggle, which she hastily stifled.

Jarlaxle gave a long, relieved groan as he finished his natural process, though he kept his grip for a second; his desire was far from sated, yet his pride ached slightly at the thought of this lover of thousands of men and women not being able to carry this out with a partner. Pride be damned, he thought, knowing he would be extremely uncomfortable for the rest of the evening if this wasn't truly finished.

Catti-brie gave a sharp intake of breath as she saw his head fall back and his grip tighten, then his hand move. She stood in complete awe and felt her own loins tighten once again. She lost all sense of her surroundings while caught in this moment; watching this beautiful elf in such an intimate act.

Her legs began to ache from their locked position. She moved her right leg slightly, only to rub against a sharp branch. She gave a sudden cry with the small sting, and then clamped her hand over her mouth, though she was too late. Jarlaxle hastily shoved himself back in his trousers while looking around. Catti-brie sunk into the brush, glad that Jarlaxle's eyes were not falling in her direction. He then subtly stretched out his hand in a sweeping gesture. Catti-brie then jumped back as she was covered in cool, purple flames. The sight was disturbing at first, yet she knew that this was merely Faerie Fire; Drizzt used it quite regularly to…outline certain forms and make them readily visible.

Catti-brie then looked up to see Jarlaxle standing a few feet away from her; his trousers restrung and his face locked at hers with a polite smile.

"Well, good evening, Lady Catti-brie," he said in a sweet, yet annoyed tone. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"