Chapter 101
Dinner was almost ready when Roger came back inside.
Silky was fussing about in the kitchen she had taken over, her pots simmering as the huge cast iron stove kept everything warm.
Freya, Anita Larsen and Warren Johnson, head librarian at the Karloff research library and frequent dinner guest, were laying out the dinner table.
Freya had the place settings, Anita had the tableware and Warren was carefully drawing tankards of Jotun ale from the firkin Roger had brought down from Canada courtesy of Old Harald, Freya's great uncle and brewmaster of her home hamlet.
Roger had been forced to get a second cask as his one firkin cask was not lasting long enough between trips to Canada.
He drew a pint for everyone except Anita, she'd gotten quite inebriated on Jotun ale during her visit to Freya's home one summer and now gave it a wide berth, preferring a small glass of wine with her dinner instead.
Anita would occasionally enjoy a glass of wine, especially when Anna Karlsen, AKA Anastasia Karloff, was staying with them.
Warren grinned at Roger and said cheerfully, "You missed the hanging of the mistletoe."
Roger smiled and replied,"Sorry, but I was clearing an oak tree of its own mistletoe burden. I'll go back in the morning and gather up the cuttings for Salamander to snack on after he's finished with the yule log."
Warren chuckled, he had sometimes wondered why a freshly laid fire had suddenly caught and grew into a cheery blaze after Freya had finished laying it on the hearth.
Not having the 'sight' he had to accept her explanation that she was giving the house salamander a snack.
He still marveled at Silky and Dena had nearly brought him to tears when she finally allowed him to see her.
Even if it was largely by accident.
Silky came out of the kitchen and her tiny silver bell tinkled merrily, dinner was served.
Dena appeared as if by magic and Roger commented drily, "So where have you been all day? I see your appetite is as good as ever!"
Dena grinned at him mischievously and retorted,"Ne'er ye min' whit Ah've been daein', Ay coorse Ah'm haur fur th' scran, Silky's a guid cook!"
Roger laughed at the tiny wood elf's remark and replied, "No one will ever accuse you of missing any of Silky's cooking!"
Dena merely grinned at him as she trooped into the kitchen to get her dinner.
Moments later, there was a piccolo like squeal and her piping voice cried out in protest, "Whit dae ye mean, Ah cannae serve meself?"
Silky had all but booted Dena out of her kitchen and silently dared her to try coming back in.
A minute or two later and Silky emerged from the kitchen with a food cart laden with silver dome covered plates.
With the merest of smiles on her delicate features, Silky placed the silvery domes at each place setting.
The smaller domes covered the side dishes and salad, the larger dome to be served later, covered the main course.
Tonight it was just the five of them, and not a formal occasion, hence the breaches in protocol.
When the tiny set of of silvery domes had been placed where Dena customarily sat, Silky retreated back into her kitchen where a cup of fresh, heavy cream awaited her.
More than once Roger had been accused of spoiling her, and to which he smiled and replied truthfully, "She, is the one who spoils me!"
With a cheery "Itadakimasu!" the first dome was lifted and they began to eat.
It was an ecclectic little group that dined in the formal dining room of a house built for a giant.
Roger Tate, field investigator for the Museum of Cryptozoology.
A lean, sandy haired, rangy man with a nearly perpetual sunburnt look from years spent in the hotter places of the world.
Freya Sigurdsdottir, Jotun maiden and companion to Roger.
Once a lanky child, she was now nearly fully grown into a towering beauty with waist length, red gold hair confined into two great braids, pale skin and Norse goddess looks.
Anita Larsen, nascent author who had recently collaborated with popular author Anna Karlsen on a young adult Gothic romance novel that was selling quite well and was now attracting movie deal overtures.
Warren Johnson, head librarian for the Karloff research library now housed in the mansion once lived in by Anastasia Karloff, back when she was known as Anna Karlova, playwright.
And last but not least, Dena Greenwood, a two foot tall wood wife recently taken to wearing fashion doll clothing given to her by a well known maker of such dolls who had seen her when she was smuggled into an anime fan convention where he had a booth.
Dena was possibly the oldest person there and being fae, would outlive everyone there except for Silky, a former bean sidhe or banshee who had outlived her family and was now a house spirit who ran their household quite efficiently.
When it came time for the main dish, Silky reemerged from the kitchen, her cart bearing the larger silvery domes of the main dish.
She had really outdone herself, the souffle` was perfect, served piping hot, fresh from the oven.
Having served the main dish, Silky whisked away the smaller domes and dishes.
Warren was smiling, Silky had made him a special vegetarian souffle` and Dena grinned as she saw her own miniature souffle` placed before her.
As she dug into it, Roger commented, "Now you know why Silky booted you out of the kitchen, your clattering about could've made the souffle` fall and not one of us would've stopped her from choking you!"
Dena smiled shyly and said quietly, "Ah had nae idea 'at Silky was makin' somethin' sae fussy tae cook."
She took a small bite, brightened up and said gaily, "'Tis verra guid!"
Dessert was a pumpkin custard made from pumpkins grown on Freya's hobby farm next door.
Between the house and library properties, they now controlled some 52 acres of land with much of it left wild.
Freya's farming activities now took up about 5 acres, leaving the remainder still wild lands.
Hence the reason for so many 'neighbors', they liked the wild places.
With everything finished and the dishes cleared, Roger, Freya and Warren enjoyed an after dinner tankard or two of the Jotun ale and when the huge grandfather clock tolled the eleven o'clock hour, Warren muttered, "Welp, I'd best get going, it's a cold night out and the snow is deep."
While he layered up for the cold, Roger said, "Thankfully, it's not a long walk and the moon will help light your way."
Warren grinned at Roger as he wrapped his muffler around his neck and face until little more than his eyes and nose still showed.
Astrid, one of Sasha's pups wagged her voluminous tail as she waited for him to finish dressing.
She had taken a liking to Warren and was going home with him.
Warren had commented cheerfully, "That young wolf takes up half my cottage when she's all stretched out!"
Roger chuckled and replied, "You won't find a better guardian, her mother saved my life at least once that I recall."
"You recall?"
"Yeah, I was pretty out of it at the time."
When Warren was finished bundling up, Roger handed him a little cardboard box.
Warren took it and asked, "What is this?"
"It's a holly and ivy cantrip, hang it on your door to let the 'neighbors' know not to prank you."
"Ah, okay, thanks!"
The two men shook hands and with Astrid beside him, Warren set out into the darkness with a lantern to walk back to his cottage behind the big library building.
Soon, man and beast were gone, swallowed up by the darkness.
Returning to the parlour and its cheery blaze courtesy of Salamander, Roger commented,"I'm thankful Astrid has bonded with Warren, now I don't have to worry about him meeting up with a nasty surprise while walking home in the dark like he does."
Anita smiled as she sipped her tea, "Sometimes, I wish he had the 'sight' and yet I'm grateful he doesn't. The first time I saw a boggart I was pretty scared and was grateful to have Axel by my side, he scared it off with his growling."
Roger smiled at her remark, the young male wolf lay beside her on the parquet floor, his massive bulk stretched out as he snoozed.
A coterie of sprites nestled in his deep fur.
His enormous parents as always, lay stretched out on the carpet before the crackling fireplace.
They each had their own spritely gathering snuggled in their deep fur.
Eventually, the hearty meal and the tankard of ale worked their magic and Roger began to nod.
He wished Anita and Freya a good night and toddled off to bed.
Roger woke with a start, something had scratched at his bedroom window.
He lay for a few moments, wondering if he had dreamt he'd heard a scratching noise.
Lying beside him in peaceful slumber, his giantess companion Freya had not stirred.
There it was again, the faint scratching that had awakened him.
Rising carefully lest he disturb his companion, Roger peered through the frosted glass of his window.
Standing there in plain sight was two figures, one was the Green Woman he had met while the library was being refurbished, the other seemed vaguely familiar.
She was clearly a tree spirit from her aspect with age gnarled barklike skin and twiglike hair.
The Green Woman beckoned to him and he quietly dressed, then slipped out of the house as he zipped up his heavy jacket, bundling himself heavily against the cold.
Winters of late seemed to be colder and bulky overcoats were more common now during the winter months.
Freya was the exception, with her wearing little more than a long sleeve shirt and faded jeans, even on the coldest days.
Roger, shivering slightly inside his heavy jacket, cautiously approached the pair, then stopped to look them over.
The two were entirely naked, clad only in their barklike skins and hair.
The Green Woman had the aspects of many different portions of the plant kingdom while the other woman resembled a mature oak tree, and was likely the tree spirit he thought he'd seen while removing the mistletoe from the ailing oak tree near the library.
In the silvery moonlight, Roger could see the woman's gnarled skin which thickened at her joints and down her sturdy legs, ending at her rootlike toes.
Her hair started out quite coarse at her scalp, almost twiglike and became finer and finer until it was reminiscent of Spanish moss rather than hair.
Here and there in her hair, acorns dangled and two large acorns dangled from her ears like ear decorations.
She smiled warmly at him, her eyes a deep golden color, almost luminous in their warmth.
Reaching out a long, many fingered hand, the oak tree spirit gently touched his forehead, her fingertips lightly pressing against his skin.
Roger felt a tickling sensation in his mind and a stream of consciousness formed a series of images as her memories entered his mind.
He saw her aging and sickly, the mistletoe slowly sapping her strength as it strangled her, bit by bit.
A change was now taking place, the empty house nearby now had a family living in it.
One of the family members was a young Jotun maiden, one of the earth lords.
The other was a small man, a mortal human.
They were joined by a wood wife and her giant wolf, then a silky came to stay.
The land began to heal, iron fences, barriers to the tree spirits were coming down and the old ways were being honored once more.
She felt the presence of the Green Woman, yet even she was powerless to interfere with the parasite slowly killing her tree.
Suddenly, the Jotun lass was cutting away some of the murderous growth but it wasn't enough, more cutting was needed.
The small man with her came back with a long thing in his hands, its bright iron blade biting into her ailing limbs and cutting away the cancerous, pale green growth.
It burned as it cut, it hurt like fire, yet she felt so much better as the growth was cut away from her sagging limbs, she would endure the pain, as long as it took to remove that, which was making her so ill.
Had she a voice, she would have cried aloud, had she been able, she would have shed tears.
The small man climbed into her embrace and with slashing motions, kept cutting and cutting and cutting, the dead, the dying and the cancer falling in clumps all around her feet.
When he could no longer see, he climbed down and walked away with his long, sharp edged thing, resting on his shoulder.
The cold winter air blowing across the raw wounds burned as it carried away the illness that had plagued her for so long, the cancer was losing its grip on her.
She felt better than she had for many long years. She was grateful.
The moment was shattered when Freya's voice cried, "Roger?! Whaur ur ye?"
The oak tree spirit jerked her long fingered hand away and the severing of the psychic link caused Roger to cry out in pain.
Clutching his head in his hands, Roger saw a nearly nude Freya reaching out her long arms to wrap them around him and pull him against her wonderful bosom.
She cried stridently, "Whit ur ye twa daein' tae me cheil? Who ur ye?"
Struggling to maintain consciousness, Roger gasped, "It's okay, I'm fine...They meant me no harm!"
As his vision cleared, Roger could see the Green Woman and the oak tree spirit still standing there.
He turned around in Freya's arms and she looked down at him, a look of worry on her beautiful face.
She loomed over him by nearly a yard now and as he craned his neck to look up at her, he croaked, "This is the Green Woman and this is the tree spirit that lives in that old oak tree we got the mistletoe from today...I think they are trying to thank me for cutting away all that mistletoe this afternoon."
He felt her powerful arms relax a bit as she remarked, "Cooldnae they hae foond a way 'at didnae need ye tae leave uir bed?"
In spite of everything, he chuckled softly and murmured, "And didn't you think to dress before going outside? It's cold out here!"
Clad only in her panties, Freya merely shrugged and replied,"Cold is me natural habitat, 'Tis th' summers Ah dislike wi' aw 'at heat!"
Roger squeezed his giant companion and said happily, "That's my girl!"
He turned to face the two spirits and said, "I'll come back tomorrow to finish removing any mistletoe I missed and haul away what I've already cut off."
He smiled at the Green Woman and remarked, "If you mark the trees with a spirit living in them. I will remove the mistletoe from those trees, the ones that don't have a spirit, I will let nature take its course. Is that acceptable?"
The two nature spirits smiled at him and turned to walk away, leaving him alone with a nearly naked Jotun maiden of heroic size.
Freya was amost fully grown now, just shy of nine feet tall and her body was filling out to her adult build.
While she was still regarded as 'too skinny' by Jotun standards.
To Roger, she was the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen.
Walking back to the house in the bitter cold, Roger shivered slightly in his bulky jacket while the nearly nude Freya, her skin completely white now, seemed perfectly at home in the cold.
The warm air inside the house felt wonderful to Roger, while Freya muttered about how warm it was as her skin slowly flushed to a pinkish hue.
Freya lay back down on her bed while Roger got undressed.
Once he got back down to his underwear, he lay down beside his enormous companion and she turned out the small lamp beside her giant sized bed.
Freya pulled him into a chilly embrace and murmured, "Yoo're sae warm, share it wi' me!"
Roger, who couldn't help shuddering as he was wrapped in her chilly embrace, groaned , "And you, are, f, freezing!"
Freya giggled as she snuggled him against her lovely bosom, "Yoo'll be warm agin verra suin, Ah'll mak' sure ay that!"
Roger could only shiver in reply as he waited for her to warm up again.
Later that night, Silky was up investigating some noises she had heard and after punishing the gremlin she'd caught red handed tinkering with the furnace in the basement.
She decided to make the rounds while she was still up.
Dena lay curled up with Sasha, the gigantic wolf she had ridden down from Canada. Nearby, Goldeneyes, her mate chased rabbits in his dreams and clustered all along him was the sprites, their tiny forms burrowed into his deep fur.
Anita's slender form was snugly wrapped up in her blankets and her comforters, a peaceful look on her pretty face.
Axel lay curled up at the foot of her bed.
Roger's bed was empty and still neatly made, he was sleeping with Freya again.
Silky smiled to herself, those two dearly loved each other, yet would not admit it. They often slept together, yet had not made love.
The notion that Freya had to be a certain age before making love seemed strange to the diminutive house spirit.
The fae lived by their own rules and when a fae couple loved each other, they made love, it was as simple as that.
Slipping past Freya's room, Silky peeked in and saw a tangle of limbs as Freya held Roger against her womanly bosom, a look of utter bliss on her sleeping face.
Satisfied that all was well in her home, Silky padded softly back to her room and her own bed.
Tomorrow they would celebrate the Winter Solstice.