Clearing All Obstacles

"Hold your tongue," Nymhriel warned in an undertone as she and Gundshau entered the carpenter's storefront. He frowned, but kept any further comments to himself. Though the man who provoked him hadn't come to this place, one of his fellows had, and the orc was expecting a continuation of the prior conversation.

"Glathael," Nymhriel greeted the man at the workbench. Glancing up from his ledger, he nodded.

"Been looking over the inventory," he said. "I got a bed you can have. Ain't much, but I reckon it'll do for the likes of him." He darted a sour look toward the orc, then turned back to Nymhriel, effectively dismissing Gundshau from existence.

"Thank you so much," she replied gratefully. "How soon can it be delivered?"

Gundshau's attention wandered as she finalized the arrangements. There were so many smells in this small space, so much cut wood releasing odors into the air, his senses were momentarily confused. Birch, ash, oak, pine... Stacks of planks at one wall, waiting to be cut and joined into tables, chairs, wardrobes, beds... Several finished products and things still unfinished...

It was a good smell. Not of the trees' deaths, but of the creation of useful things. He found himself smiling a little as he gazed about him. He was startled out of his reverie by Nymhriel's hand on his arm.

"It is time to go," she said gently. He nodded and followed her out.

In the little time they were in the carpenter's, the snow-laden clouds began to release their burden. Flakes fluttered down gracefully; already the ground had a light dusting.

"We must make haste," Nymhriel said. They quickened their pace out of the village.

Gundshau half expected them to be met on their way out, confronted and harrassed by that Saervodh once again. The orc was no fool; no matter when Willem was found, or what condition the corpse was in by then, he would be blamed, and no amount of talk would convince anyone otherwise.

They were met by some on the outskirts of the village, but not those expected. The orc's nostrils suddenly flared as a familiar scent came to him.

Walking along the road toward them were Berenold and his wife, Hannah. The woman carried a bundle in her arms.

"Hannah!" Nymhriel cried, rushing to the woman and embracing her carefully. "And little Beldoron! He is doing well, I see."

As the healer gushed, Hannah smiled and showed off her son. Berenold, however, glared at the orc.

"Still around, eh?" he said stiffly. Gundshau nodded quickly, but said nothing, nor did he meet the former soldier's eyes. He wanted to laugh; he remembered seeing this man collapse at the sight of his son being born. But he held his mirth inside.

Turning his attention to the infant, Gundshau inclined his head to see past Nymhriel's shoulder to the curly, dark haired head. The warmth of memory flooded him suddenly, and his lips drew back in a smile.

"Little face," he murmured.

"Here, you," the man snapped, pushing the orc back roughly. "Keep away from my wife!"

"Berenold, please!" Nymhriel cried. She saw the orc's eyes flare wide, his face contort with anger, and put herself between them. "He means no harm!"

"I do not go near wife," Gundshau snarled. "Look at child only."

"I'll not have your filth looking at my wife or my son!"

"Easy," Nymhriel whispered in the orc's ear. "I swear to you, he means no harm. He had... a sister. Perhaps this young. I'm sure he but remembers..."

"You may have forgotten what they are capable of, what they are known to do, but I have not," Berenold growled. "You know what is done to our women. Did you forget they feast on our flesh as well? I will not have him looking at them with such... interest."

"I do not!" Gundshau snapped indignantly. "As Nymhriel said. Sister. So small. Like this. Remember her, long ago..." His voice faltered, and he gazed sadly at the little boy. "All over the ground..."

"I apologize, to both of you," Nymhriel said hastily. "We really must be getting on before the snow gets worse. And you should hurry home as well."

Hannah kept staring at the orc, and wouldn't budge right away when Berenold tried to urge her onward.

"You watched him being born, did you not?" she asked softly. Gundshau nodded. She smiled hesitantly, then took a few steps toward him. She ignored her husband's gasp. Hannah peeled back the blanket so the orc could see her son's sleeping face.

For a moment, Gundshau felt almost alone with the woman and her child. Complete silence reigned. He reached up slowly and brushed a curl off the child's forehead. "Little face," he said again, and smiled.

The walk back to the cottage was uneventful, though it took the rest of the day and past nightfall. By then, the temperature had dropped significantly, and the wind had picked up, blowing great snowy gusts into their faces. When the cottage finally appeared, there had never been a more welcome sight to either of them.

Gundshau immediately set to work building a fire in the kitchen hearth while Nymhriel rummaged about the pantry. It was getting late and she was too weary to make a large meal; something simple would have to do.

In their absence, the cottage had become as cold as a tomb. Even though the orc put up a large, hot fire, it would take awhile to heat the place sufficiently. Her hands shook as she cut vegetables for a quick stew.

"Fetch some of that boar, Gundshau," she said. Nodding, he went out into the snow to the smokehouse.

Before long, they were seated at the table with steaming bowls of stew. Gundshau savored every spoonful, and not just because he was finally able to feed himself. The room was getting warmer as the heat from the hearth billowed out.

"Such a shame," Nymhriel mused absently, staring into the fire. "I never got around to having a hearth added to the bedroom. It would certainly make tonight easier to bear."

"Why not?" the orc asked, sighing contentedly over his full belly.

"You will think me silly," she said, blushing and looking away.

"Not silly," he grinned. "Tell me."

"It was not necessary when Angwedhon and I built this house," she said. "To begin with, it was in the summer. Also, we believed... we would always be together."

"Who is... Angwedhon?" he asked, struggling with the unfamiliar name.

"He was my husband," she said, sadness in her voice. "He went away to war and... never came back."

"Husband," the orc said. It was slightly familiar, that word, and one he'd rather dwell on than the implication that the man had died fighting Gundshau's own people. "Why did that matter, not building hearth?"

Sighing, she said, "We believed we would always keep one another warm."

"Oh," he replied. He would gladly keep her warm tonight and every night, if she consented. But he had no idea how to approach her with such an offer. He barely knew how his own kind went about these things, let alone tarks. Curious, he asked, "How did he win you?"

Startled, Nymhriel blinked at him. "Well... he... I believe he went to my father and asked permission to court me."

"Court?"

"Yes. He accompanied me on errands, mostly. Any opportunity to just be with me. We talked a lot." Shrugging, she looked at him helplessly. "I am certain others' courtships are more interesting than ours. It was appropriate for us, at the time. How do... orcs... court their women?"

"Not much talk," Gundshau replied carefully. "If a male is interested in a female, he... presents her with a fresh kill." He dared not look at her.

"He does?" she whispered. Swallowing hard, she glanced down at the bowl nearby, the dregs of pork broth pooling in the bottom. "What is... the purpose of this?"

"He shows he can look after her," he said. "Strong. Clever. Bring food to eat."

"I see. Then what does he do?"

"Whatever she wishes. Whatever will... please her."

"What... sorts of things would please... an orc female?"

"Services," he said quietly. "Could be repairing her shelter. Fetching plants. Sharpening blades. Or it could be... pleasing her body."

"Oh," Nymhriel breathed unsteadily. "So... he might be... invited to her bed."

"Yes."

"And what... is the purpose? What does he... show her by doing this?"

"That he is unselfish. That he gives as well as takes."

"Can he... give?" she whispered.

Gundshau nodded. "He can give much."

"And she... gives as well?"

"Yes."

She closed her eyes for a moment. All it would take was one word now, it seemed, and her darkest fantasies could become reality. Her body ached for such dreams to be realized. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes.

"Come to my bed, Gundshau. Please...," she murmured, swallowing awkwardly, "please me."

He blinked for a moment, then slowly nodded. Together they stood, and went to the bedroom. The room was cold, as it had been for years since her husband left. The orc's heat seemed to drive away the chill.

Her fingers shook as she untied the lacings on her dress. She didn't watch as Gundshau shed the clothes she'd given him, nor did she turn when he slid under the blanket to wait for her. She could feel his eyes upon her as her dress slipped to the floor. Taking a steadying breath, she climbed into the bed beside him.

In the darkness, she could barely make out his features, except for the red glitter of his eyes in the spare, flickering light cast by the hearthfire in the main room. But she knew she would not mistake him for her husband, or any other man, this night.

"Tell me how I should please you," he murmured, nuzzling her neck. She felt his hot breath on her skin and shivered pleasantly.

"Touch me," she whispered, raising her arms above her head and arching her back. His rough, calloused hand started at her hip and moved slowly up her side, over her ribs, then cupped her breast.

Gundshau had never been soft with a female before; orcesses generally favored a rougher sort of coupling. What he knew of Nymhriel, though, convinced him there was no other way he could be with her. He kneaded her breast gently, thrilling to her clear acceptance. Instincts would have him mounting her quickly, but this was not for idle pleasure. He was courting her. This was mating. Mating was always shared equally. Gundshau's youth hadn't granted him the right to receive 'the talk' from his da before he died, but he'd been told this much over the intervening years.

Leaning down, he took the taut nipple into his mouth and suckled her breast tenderly, mindful of his sharp, jagged teeth. His attentions were obviously welcomed, for Nymhriel trembled in his arms and moaned faintly, even as she pushed her breast against his mouth.

"Lower," she breathed, and he felt her legs parting, inviting him to explore there. He smiled; the scent of her desire was so strong, he could not resist it much longer in any case. His mouth began its slow descent.

When he reached the juncture between her legs, his darting tongue sent waves of pleasure rocketing through her body. Angwedhon had never consented to please her in this manner, thinking her too 'pure' for such base treatment. But she had longed for the experience ever since a woman confided to her what her lover had done, thinking it unsavory and feeling guilt for enjoying it.

At this moment, Nymhriel didn't give a damn what the opinions might be on pleasuring a woman with a man's mouth. Grabbing his head, she held the orc in place, and rolled her hips wantonly.

He did not finish her this way, however. Rising up, he knelt over her and eased in slowly, savoring every moment, every inch of her passage he was allowed to penetrate. A low, feral growl crept out of his throat.

Nymhriel's hands caressed his ears, stroked his chest, clutched his backside, as he thrust his hips, burying himself inside her. He leaned down close, supported on his elbows, and touched his forehead to hers.

When she entreated him breathlessly to quicken his pace, he obeyed readily. He felt nearly like a wildfire out of control, so near to reaching an end was he. And he could sense she was close as well, the way her body moved beneath him, and how she mewed and gasped in his ear. All at once, he convulsed, and spilled his seed in a hot torrent within her. She seemed only to have waited for this proof of his satisfaction, for her own climax came upon her soon after.

It was like nothing he'd ever experienced, even with an orcess. Nymhriel writhed and bucked, cried out, dug her nails into his hide... and that was just what was going on outside. Within her body, he felt as if she'd gotten a tight grip on his member and was milking him of every last drop, to ensure he did not cheat her of the smallest portion of his seed. The sensation was so profoundly arousing, he nearly provided another offering to her seemingly unquenchable thirst.

He felt wanted. Needed.

"Nymhriel," he whispered. "Be my mate."

"I... Yes. If you will be mine, I will be yours."

"I have been yours for many days," he chuckled.

She stiffened slightly, then relaxed. "Then I must catch up, mustn't I?"

The sun was peeking over the horizon when the men came, led by Saervodh. They bore torches, for the storm's fury cast the snow so thick in the air that only fire allowed them to see one another. Lip curled in a fury, Saervodh quietly opened the front door of the cottage and led them inside.