The Reeve Amidst The Green (17) The Rhythm Of The Rain
Shuffa awakened, and didn’t know where she was. She wasn’t home. Was this Feldon’s house? No, that’s right, she’d gone and started a farm…
Couch. She was on a couch. This thing was a couch. Human sitting furniture. Like a chair, but much wider. Several people could sit on one at once. Big long soft thing to sit on, with cushions. You could sleep on a couch, too. There was a soft fabric pillow under her head, and she was wrapped in a blanket, lying on a soft couch. Shuffa glanced at the window. Dark outside. Her back was sore, but not as sore as she had expected. Charli the human had rubbed her with some sort of smelly ointment, had rubbed her bare back as she lay on the couch, while Oddri had watched. It occurred to Shuffa that she was naked. All three of them had been naked when they had returned from the river after a chilly but satisfying bath.
Shuffa had still been in pain, but Charli had understood and had massaged her back with strong hands, and rubbed liniment into her back. It made her skin feel hot, but it unbunched her muscles, relaxed them somewhat. She’d been exhausted, naked, lying on a human’s couch. She’d half expected him to rape her. She wasn’t sure she’d have been able to do anything about it. Or much cared. But he’d been kind and hadn’t raped her, he had rubbed her back and made her feel a little better, and Oddri had wrapped her in a blanket, like a child, and they’d had supper, a sort of thick, chunky soup. It had tasted of roasted venison. It had meat and vegetables in it. It had been delicious. Oddri had eaten most of it. Shuffa had heard that ogres had big appetites. Oddri’d eaten easily a gallon of soup. Charli had barely noticed; he was apparently used to Oddri’s appetite. Shuffa didn’t remember finishing dinner. Shuffa didn’t remember much of anything. Had she dozed off during dinner? Not surprising. Shuffa had never had a day’s work like that in her life.
Shuffa glanced around Charli’s living room. She saw her skirt and tunic, hanging on some sort of wooden rack in front of the fireplace. It looked clean. Had they washed it? The door, over there… Oddri had filled the blue striped bag with straw from the barn and had wrestled it through the living room… through that door… into the bedroom. Bed big enough for an ogre. A bed she shared with Charli the Human. Gods, thought Shuffa idly, that man must have a pecker the size of a log. That’s right. An ogre could catch a man better than Shuffa could. Then again, an ogre woman could certainly be of great use on a farm. What use would Shuffa be, on a farm? And once you got used to Oddri’s tusks and her sheer size, she wasn’t even really that ugly. Once you got used to her. If you could get used to a human, you could get used to anything, Shuffa thought.
Shuffa blinked. Oddri had been remarkably friendly, and most unogrish, even after Shuffa had shed her breast wrap and her loincloth. All three of them had washed and luxuriated in an eddy of the cold river, and the cold water had been heavenly. And then they’d returned to Shuffa’s wickiup to get their clothes, and then they’d returned to Charli’s house to eat dinner, and oh, that back massage… better than sex. Oddri had watched. Oddri hadn’t minded. And now Charli and Oddri were behind that door. Were they awake? Shuffa didn’t want to be. If Shuffa was awake, that meant she’d have to get up off the soft thing, put her clothes on, and go live in her wickiup out--
A sound caught her attention. The sound was continuous. Shuffa simply hadn’t noticed it until now. She glanced at the window. It was dark outside, and raining. Shuffa watched it rain. Gentle rain, slow and soft, perfect for the mustard seeds, and no doubt for Charli’s crops as well. No wonder Oddri and Charli were still in bed. Not a lot of farm work they could do in the rain.
Shuffa remembered sitting on the couch, wrapped in the blanket, eating the wonderful dinner. Oddri and Charli had been kind, and there had been conversation. Shuffa couldn’t remember what it had been about. It had just been kind of nice to talk to someone, to not be alone. Oddri and Charli had touched each other, sat close to each other, rubbed noses affectionately. They’d been affectionate with each other. Affectionate. Shuffa had felt a little jealous. Shuffa had had plenty of sex lately with the lumber men, all she wanted, but it seemed there had been little affection, and no real feelings other than general friendliness and horniness. Oddri and Charli had had feelings, and hadn’t been shy about it. Not obnoxious, but they didn’t seem to care who knew that they were jeterrh to one another, man and ogre, and that they wanted each other.
And witnessing their joy, Shuffa found herself envying them.
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Arn lay in his bed, and listened to the rain pattering on the roof overhead.
What a day it had been. Ogres. Goblins. Magic toilets. Strange engineering. And this situation of humans and goblins was far more intertwined than he had originally thought. He’d begun to make a list of things that needed to be looked into, and the list kept getting longer, and he’d made no progress on his Preliminary Report, the thing that was supposed to buy him the time to make progress on his investigations in the first place.
He'd have to go into his office at some point, and begin work. He’d planned on merely mentioning that there was a tribe of goblins in the vicinity, and that they had established peaceful trade relations with the locals. It was true enough. It would explain the economic activity, the tax boost. And it wasn’t anything that would draw attention from the Capitol. But with each passing day, Arnuvel was realizing that there was much more going on around him than he knew… and now, that everyone here seemed to know what was going on in far more detail than he did.
And he found himself wondering if he was being kept in the dark deliberately.
To some extent, Arnuvel had expected this. Local merchants, local bankers, local power brokers, people like this didn’t like supervision, and they certainly didn’t care to be reminded of Crown authority. They liked to think of themselves as the real movers and shakers. And in a place like this… far from the Capitol … it wasn’t uncommon for such individuals to want to isolate the Crown to the point of being out of touch with what was really going on. How much of the picture was he being prevented from seeing?
The Magician… the man Ben… was certainly a player in local affairs, for all he insisted otherwise. “We do not speak for goblins or men, but for ourselves,” he had said. And yet, he seemed to be going out of his way to make himself indispensable with his magical gimcracks and gewgaws. Wanna had said that it was around the time of his arrival that things had begun to change, in a big way. How much of that was true? Arnuvel had heard the old stories about evil sorcerers and Dark Lords and assorted nonsense about the fall of the Empire, in the old times. He’d regarded them as mere stories. And if this Ben individual was of a similar ambition, he was certainly going about it in an odd way. Healing wounded locals? Helping them keep their beer cold? Making ointment for old ladies? The man and his goblin had been stern enough… but they’d loosened up considerably when Arnuvel had simply said that he wanted to make a report and then let the local affairs run themselves. Was this all they wanted? Or were they simply pleased to think that Arnuvel wasn’t going to interfere with their plans?
The town council: the local smith, an old wise woman, a banker, a storekeeper, and the glassmaker. How far could he trust them? They seemed guileless enough. Except perhaps for the old woman. Something about her put Arnuvel off. She seemed to absorb more information than she let go of, and she was cleverer than she wanted to let on. Uneducated, perhaps, but far from stupid. He’d been a bit surprised to see that the local miller wasn’t on the council. Millers were almost always well to do and involved in local politics. There was a local miller, yes? He’d seen a mill on his way in…
And this goblin housekeeper they’d hired for him. How far could he trust her? Was she spying for the goblins? For the locals? For the Magicians, perhaps? No, that was ridiculous. For that matter, if they were trying to hide the magic and the wondrous inventions, why had they been stupid enough to install them in his kitchen? Did they think he wouldn’t notice? And Wanna had been forthcoming enough. He’d just had to ask. Admittedly, he’d had to ask the right questions. It was as if she was so used to all these insane things that she barely took notice of them. Why, then, would she expect him to?
Humans and goblins were breeding. That was yet another new wrinkle. Would he report this to the Crown? Did he dare report it to the Crown? Did he want to report it to the Crown? Was it any of the Crown’s damned business? And what about this House of Orange Lights? Inn? Tavern? Whorehouse? Goblins and humans, entangled? There, like everywhere else? And this Goblin Town, where goblins began to learn civilization? Was this good or bad? And did he want or need to report it to the Crown?
And if and when he did… what was the Crown likely to do about it? And what were these Magicians likely to do about the Crown, should they become interested or alarmed enough to send envoys, or perhaps even a garrison? How would the goblins react to this? Arnuvel disliked the idea of starting a war… but he disliked the idea of opening up the Crown to a growing threat… by simply not reporting it until it was too late…
Arnuvel rolled over onto his back, and closed his eyes. Following and unravelling court intrigue was a child’s game, next to following and unravelling small town gossip and politics. Even without ogres and goblins and Magicians all wound up in it.
He lay back, his eyes closed, and listened to the sound of the falling rain.
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In his room at the boarding house, Old Man Hunderson dreamed, not for the first time, of his moment of final triumph… the fiery explosions so long ago at the stadium, heralding the end of the old times, the dawning of the new era, and the death of an Old God.
He was content. All was well. He dreamed on, heedless of the patter of the rain on the roof.
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Half awake, half asleep, Shuffa found herself thinking about Jeeka, part ponder, part dream, as the rain beat down on the roof. Shuffa was older than Jeeka, but Jeeka, now… Jeeka was a girl after her own heart. Jeeka, daughter of Eren and Adii, had been a cute little thing, and had grown into quite the voluptuous little charmer, hypnotizing the hunters with her tits and her bright eyes and her giggle.
The hunter Mirk had been quite the persistent one. Jeeka had laughed and kept him at arm’s length. He’d been persistent, but she’d kept him off… but interested. Shuffa had found that amazing. A feat worthy of imitation. Make him hunt for you! Impress you! Worship you! Beg for it! Shuffa had found Jeeka’s balancing act a worthy show. She’d been impressed herself. But she’d also have bet that eventually, she’d maneuver Mirk into the right place, and finally permit him to win, and taken his blood.
And then, the Magician had shown up… and nothing had ever been the same again, after that.
After that, expectations had been shot all over the nine hells. Jeeka had married the Magician and Tolla the fire spirit, and the three of them had formed some sort of mystic triumvirate, a force that even Morr and the humans listened to. Mirk had given up being a hunter and had moved among the humans, marrying the beautiful Megga the Baker, and fathering a half-human child with her. Who could have seen any of THAT coming? And at one point, it had made Shuffa a little crazy. Not only were her own plans not working out, but the humans and that Magician and the fire spirits were pulling everything apart, wrecking any predictability, making new ways and new rules and … and Shuffa, among others, had decided that this was just not allowable. And they had tried to force things to return to the old ways. And they had failed, terribly, painfully. And the new ways were here, and they weren’t going anywhere.
Jeeka, Tolla, the Magician. Shuffa had hated them all, for a time. Their existence was changing her world, warping it into unrecognizability. But over time, she’d come to realize that they were no different that she was: just people, trying to make their own way, their own places, and command their own fates. It wasn’t their intent to damage Shuffa’s world. They meant her no harm, nor had they deliberately done her any.
And over time, Shuffa had let go of her hate. The last straw had been the attack on the House of Orange Lights, and the terrible lightning the Magician had called, to strike down the attackers. Shuffa had felt justified, once. Now she regretted. The Fire Spirits of the House of Orange Lights were no different than she was: people, trying to make their own way, their own places, and command their own fates.
Grola, Teej, Bekk, and human Jon. They’d said, “If you are tired of waiting in line… leave the line. Step outside your world, and look around.” Well, she’d certainly done that. Worked herself half to death. She’d be in twice as much pain in a cold leaky wickiup, now, if not for Charli and Oddri’s kindness. To a stranger. To one not even a human. But one didn’t get much further outside of her old world. And perhaps Teej and Grola and Bekk and Jon had been right. The gentle rain beat down on her farm, now, nourishing her mustard plants, acres of them. Grow, little ones, grow, and bring me future silver, she thought.
Shuffa had wanted a man, to bring meat home, to father her children, to take care of her. If her farm was successful, if she could grow more herbs next year, she wouldn’t need anyone to take care of her. She’d have the humans’ silver money, like Adii or Flor, like Teej, Grola, and Bekk. She wouldn’t need anyone.
But she still wanted someone. Would he come, finally, when she didn’t need him?
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At the other end of the Reeve’s Lodge, Wanna lay in the human-style bed, curled up under the sheets and the blankets. They felt good. They felt strange, but comfortable. The rain beat down on the roof overhead. This job wasn’t a bad one, so far, and was turning out easier than working for the Greenwoods, in some ways. And the money was good. And here, in the human house, with the rain pattering down, the Grief Devil could not find her. At least, not yet.
This Reeve… this Arn man … was a strange one. His clothes were strange, his words were strange, his manner and way of speaking was odd. He was plainly not like the people of Refuge, the other humans she’d grown used to. And he’d frightened her when he had seen the himikar, and instead of being pleased, he’d acted like he’d found a deadly serpent curled up in the cupboard. But he’d calmed down, and he'd insisted he’d never seen such a thing in his life, for all that the humans seemed to think the sun rose and set out of the sunwell in the middle of this King’s Capitol, whatever that was. And yet this King of theirs couldn’t have a cold beer in the summer, if he wanted it? Or use an indoor toilet in the winter, and not have to trudge through cold wind, or even snow?
Breakfast had been a strange business. She’d prepared what she’d thought was a rather elaborate human styled breakfast… only to find out that it was, but not one served where he was from. Just her luck, the Magician came from some other human tribe than Arn did. Still, he’d been nothing if not adaptable. Breakfast hadn’t been the success she’d hoped for, but it hadn’t been a failure.
She’d tried going the other way for lunch. The food had been fine. And then there had been that business with the himikar, and suddenly, he wanted to pull the kitchen apart, looking for more magics. Why had he been so willing to accept weird food, but so strange about accepting an unfamiliar kitchen? And he’d had so many questions afterwards. Hadn’t he spoken to the other humans? Hadn’t they filled him in on how things worked, here? The ogre business had shaken him up. Gods, anyone might be afraid of Oddri, if you didn’t know her. Hadn’t anyone brought that up?
This Arn man wasn’t bad. He’d been confused. Overwhelmed. Males wouldn’t admit to being frightened, though; that was true of humans as well as goblins, so they’d go all cautious and angry instead, ready to attack or fight instead of figure out what was going on. But Arn hadn’t quite gone that way. He’d realized he’d upset Wanna, and had tried to reassure her. It was a mark in his favor. But had the humans really left him so far out in the dark? Why?
Wanna felt bad for the poor man. Sent here by his tribe, to report back, to learn how things worked, and the other humans here seemed ponderously unhelpful about it. Particularly when one considered how many differences there seemed to be between the Refuge Place, here, and … whatever he was used to back east. She wanted to try to find out what he didn’t know, to help him as best she could. But… how did one find out what another person didn’t know?
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The rain pattered down on the roof of the Refuge Inn. Finally, finally, finally, the rooms were all empty, the Reeve had taken his things and checked out, and there were no other guests tonight. Just Ovalee and the staff.
Ovalee lay on the bed, her hands secured to the headposts by stout cords, her feet secured likewise at the foot of the bed. It was dark, the room unlit, the only illumination the occasional flicker of distant, silent lightning in the storm. Ovalee didn’t mind. Everyone knew where everything was, and if you didn’t, well, you could find things by feeling around.
She knew that Hamki was the one gnawing on the heel of the sole of her right foot; she could feel the sharp tips of goblin teeth on the pad of her heel. Ovalee recognized Hamki’s throaty chuckle as she nibbled and gnawed, and suddenly, stopped in order to suck Ovalee’s big toe into her mouth and swirl it around with her tongue, driving Ovalee quite mad. Someone else – maybe Voret, or it might be Sherm – had a deathgrip on her other ankle, and was running a wet warm tongue between her toes, flickering up and down, stopping to suck briefly on each toe, and the sensations were driving her crazy. Ovalee loved having her feet massaged, played with, and sucked on, and the Inn staff knew exactly what to do, everyone working together like a well oiled machine.
Ovalee could hear someone over on the overstuffed chair. One of them was Zinku; Ovalee recognized her characteristic mmf, mmf, mmf whimpers, the sounds she always made when someone was balls deep buried in her; from where the sound was, she knew a man sat in the chair and that Zinku was straddling him. Straddling who? Oh, whoever was sucking on her left toes had sharp front teeth; that meant that Sherm, the human handyman, was wearing pretty Zinku on his cock, and clever Voret’s tongue was strumming her toes like the strings on a guitar.
Ovalee knew who was between her legs. No mistaking. Crogg would lick her pussy on occasion, but he liked to make her beg for it. He’d start by licking her along the insides of the thighs, starting at the knee, and working inwards, then stopping just short to begin again on her other leg, and finally stroking the flesh right next to her cunt with his tongue, rubbing her slit with his thumb to gauge her wetness, to see how aroused she was. When they could all get together like this, all in the same room, all working her over, it never took long. With Voret and Hamki working her feet and Crogg caressing her legs, Ovalee knew she was at the breaking point, the point Crogg liked. Crogg enjoyed being in charge. Ovalee was so wet, and Crogg’s thumb and tongue were so good… and she whimpered with overloaded pleasure.
“Mmm?” came Crogg’s inquiring voice.
After a pause, Ovalee couldn’t stand it. “Fuck me,” she hissed.
“Magic word?” said Crogg. Ovalee could hear the smile in his voice.
“Please fuck me,” she said, softly.
“Please fuck me what?” he said, still smiling.
“Please fuck me, master,” said Ovalee, surrendering all pretense.
Crogg chuckled and licked her once, right up the labia, making her twitch and gasp. It was a signal. She could hear Sherm and Zinku react, and move, over on the chair. And as Crogg straightened up and shifted position and began to rub his cock on her sopping labia to lubricate himself, Ovalee felt weight and movement on the bed near her head. A foot came down on the bed on the far side of her head, and Ovalee smelled Zinku’s wet pussy near her face before she felt it. She extended her tongue, experimentally, and tasted Zinku, wet and salty. Zinku adjusted her position, and lowered herself onto Ovalee’s face, and as Crogg’s green cock slid wetly into her, Ovalee began to lick and suck at Zinka’s labia, panting and whimpering.
At the footboard, Hamki and Voret sucked and licked, too, the sensations overloading Ovalee’s restraint. Sherm suddenly licking Ovalee’s navel didn’t help. Ovalee moaned and keened and thrashed a little, as Crogg seized her hips and began to fuck her, vigorously. When Crogg was done, he’d move, and take another position, and then it was Voret’s turn, or perhaps Sherm. All five of them would have her, and own her, and the night would take care of itself.
By day, Ovalee was in charge of the boarding house and the Refuge Inn, and the staff took orders, and did as they were told. But after dark, now, it was a very different game. A perk of employment, one might call it.
It was always a fun night when no one else was in the Inn to hear.
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Jeeka could not hear the falling rain through several yards of solid rock that separated the sky from her bedroom. But her ear flicked and went vertical instantly upon hearing the thin cries of tiny Eren, out in the living room. It wasn’t more than a moment before little Sutha joined him, somewhat more strenuously. When one infant began, the other would quickly join in. They’d tried separating them. It hadn’t worked. Even with one in the towel room and the other at the other end of the burrow in the living room, they knew. One cried, the other joined in. So now, both cribs were in the living room. It made things more convenient, at least.
“I’ve got this,” said Ben, sitting up.
“And you’ll feed him with what?” murmured Tolla, from the far side of the bed. “Your tits leave much to be desired.”
“It’s my turn,” mumbled Jeeka, swinging her feet free of the bed, and sitting up. “Ben, go back to sleep. I’ll be back when the kids are asleep.”
“I’ll go with you anyway,” said Ben. “I feel bad, staying in bed every time one of you gets up. I’ll sit with you on the couch. Share the experience.”
“Jeeka, if he wants to share the experience,” murmured Tolla, “curl up in his lap. Feed the babies. And then chew his nipples raw.”
“If that’s what it takes,” said Ben.
Jeeka stood up, and headed into the hall, with Ben following close behind.
“You’re not staying in bed,” said Jeeka.
“Least I can do is hold you, while you feed them,” said Ben.
“Hmmf,” said Jeeka. “All right. Perhaps I’ll let you keep one nipple.”
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Oddri heard the rain pattering on the roof. She smiled. It was warm and dry where she was. The bed was big enough, so wonderful and soft. She and Charli lay beneath so many blankets, so warm, so comfortable, better even than the best skins, better than the winter with the trappers. This would be the best winter ever. Warm, dry, comfortable, and well fed, with so many different kinds of food to eat, so many different things to do. Charli had mentioned there were things that needed to be done on a farm, even in the winter. Oddri was amenable.
She listened to Charli breathe. Her weight tended to make a divot in the middle of the mattress, which meant that it supported Charli better than her, which meant that Charli tended to wind up sort of on top of her, or wedged into the space between her and the mattress. At the moment, Charli was out cold. Oddri lay on her left side, partly on her back. Charli was facing her, one arm around her middle, the other under her pillow, his head pillowed on her breasts. Even asleep, he seemed to like this. Awake or asleep, Charli liked her tits. As well as anything else he could reach.
Charli liked to kiss her face, to nibble on her ears, to bite her on the behind, to kiss and nibble on her neck. For some reason Oddri loved being kissed and nibbled on the neck. Groja with Charli was always fun, always something different. His enthusiasm was wonderful. So affectionate! Charli really liked Oddri, as opposed to simply wanting to cum in her hole. The trappers had been like that, but not like Charli. Charli was as affectionate as five trappers. He liked to touch her. He liked to look at her, to remind her that he was there, to talk to her, to listen to her, and he liked to slap her on her ass, to hear her giggle. It made him giggle, too.
Oddri had feelings for Charli. Oddri had begun to dare to hope that perhaps there would be something there for her, with Charli, after the winter, when the thaw came and things turned green again. The farm would be green again. All the things would grow again. All the food would grow. There would be lots of work to do. Charli would certainly want a strong farm woman to help him. Charli had talked about how much easier everything was, with Oddri around.
Oddri had worried, that time she came back with the deer for Charli. Would he accept the gift? He’d not only accepted the gift, he’d insisted that she should eat most of it. Charli wanted to take care of Oddri. Well, that was fine. Oddri would take care of Charli, too. They would take care of each other. And she would try to understand the feelings. Did Charli have the feelings too? He seemed to.
Then there had been Shuffa the goblin. Shuffa was all alone, and she wanted to be a farmer too, to grow things and sell them for money in town, like Charli. Charli had felt bad for Shuffa. He had been like her, a few summers ago, working hard and hurting and having the bad feelings, the fear that it wouldn’t work, that he couldn’t grow the food. Oddri thought about this. He hadn’t been worried about starving to death… he’d been worried about the farm going away, in a way Oddri didn’t quite understand. That he wouldn’t be his own boss. That he would lose things. Charli had tried to explain it; the word had been bankruptcy. This had been a terrible bad fearful thing, kind of like ogres feared the kakhozu, the slow suffering death of starving, during the winter!
Bankruptcy happened when there was not enough money, like kakhozu was when there wasn’t enough food. But now bankruptcy couldn’t happen. Like how kakhozu couldn’t happen, here on Charli’s farm. Not as long as the food grew, and they could sell it for money. Oddri was determined that the food would grow and be sold, if she could do anything about it. Neither Charli nor she would suffer, and the happy times would go on!
This was why, when Charli wanted to help Shuffa, Oddri had been right there with him. They could stop the terrible bankruptcy from hurting Shuffa, therefore they would. And oh, hadn’t the plowing been fun? The planting, not so much; Oddri’s fingers were too big, and she had been slow to pick out the tiny individual seeds and drop them in the little holes, but no one else had minded. And then there had been the wonderful river bath!
When Shuffa had fallen down and cried, Oddri had hurt with her. It had been so pitiful. It had been like feeling the kakhozu, like seeing it happen to someone else. It hurt, it was bad. But she and Charli could stop this. They could make it go away, make it not happen. Just by helping.
Oddri could see that Shuffa wanted to go jump in the river with them. But she had pretended she was going to stay in her hut. But Oddri and Charli had shown they wanted Shuffa to come with them. And Shuffa had come with them. She’d kept her clothes on at first, but had taken them off. Oh, how good the river had felt, after the hard work and the dirt and the planting! It had been wonderful. It had been social! Oddri had enjoyed it immensely, and so had Charli. Shuffa had, too, but she had hurt, from so much hard work. And Charli and Oddri had taken Shuffa home with them and rubbed her sore muscles and given her food to eat, all she wanted!
Charli had looked at Shuffa’s naked green body. Oddri could see why. Shuffa was pretty. Even Oddri thought so. Oddri smiled to herself. She knew Charli liked her big tits, her big round ass. He had liked Shuffa’s, too, but he was too polite to do anything about it. Shuffa was tired and she hurt, and her feelings were shaky. She needed food and rest, not groja. That was a thing Oddri understood. Shuffa needed to eat and get strong and get over the hurting. She’d been so worn out, she’d fallen asleep during dinner. Oddri had collected her bowl and they had arranged her on the couch in her blanket and left her there, poor thing. Let her sleep. She’d be better in the morning, and there would be breakfast, with oats and honey!
Oddri looked at Charli, asleep in her arms, his head pillowed on her boob. She had such strong feelings for Charli, for this wonderful place. Oddri was happy, every day. Charli had said she would never be hungry. He’d kept his promise. Charli was so wonderful, and this was such a happy place. Oddri wanted Shuffa to be happy, too, to make the hurting and the fear and the bankruptcy go away, for there to be plenty of everything for Shuffa, too.
Would it make Shuffa happy if Charli made groja with her? Humans and goblins did this, sometimes. Perhaps she would discuss this with Charli later. Oddri snuggled her Charli close in her arms, and rested her chin atop his head, and drifted off into blissful sleep once more.
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Teej listened to the rain on the roof over her head, lying in bed with Jon. On the ceiling, shadows danced, in the shapes of unicorns, in the candlelight.
Jon had brought her an odd little toy. He’d found it somewhere in Refuge, maybe at the hardware store, or perhaps at the candlemaker’s. It was a number of little brass pieces, but you put them together a certain way, and it made a little brass structure that stood on a little brass plate. You put candles in the candleholders set on the plate, and lit them. The heat and smoke from the candles made the spinny thing spin, and it began to rotate, and throw shadows on the ceiling, in the light of the candles that made it work. The little shapes on the outside ends of the petals on the spinny thing became unicorns, projected on the ceiling, running forever up and down in a circle. Well, at least until the candles burned out, or were extinguished.
Teej found it enchanting. She lay on the bed in Jon’s arms and watched the unicorns run and run in the candlelight, while the rain ran down the windows in sheets.
“Did you think about what I said?” Teej asked.
“Did,” Jon answered.
“And?”
“I’d wanna tell my folks first,” he said. “I figger I owe ‘em that.”
“Mama already knows,” said Teej.
“Reckon she does. You talk to her?”
“She asked about it.”
“Did she?” said Jon with some surprise. “Whad’she say?”
“She said she had a human son and a goblin daughter, and she said she wondered what her grandchildren might look like.”
“She said that?”
“Did.”
Jon said nothing, and for a moment they lay and held each other and watched the unicorns charge, up and down and up and down.
“I still have to tell them,” he said at last. “Even if they already know. It’s the right thing to do.”
“Then I will go with you,” said Teej.
“And then we go talk to the Magician?”
“Do we need to, right away?” said Teej. “Are we in a hurry?”
“You feel like puttin’ it off?”
“I don’t know,” said Teej. “I think maybe we go talk to the Magician, and ask them what they think. I know that now we are together, and we are strong together. Our world is strong. It can manage what we are together, and what we have become. That was what I needed. Maybe we stop and think before babies. We can do that. We are man and goblin. And this is our choice, not our accident.” Rolling onto her side, Teej threw an arm across Jon’s chest and laid her head on his shoulder.
They watched the unicorns dance for a little while.
“What are you thinking, now?” said Teej.
“I’uz thinkin’ what it’s gonna be like,” said Jon.
“Having a baby? Or being married?”
“Sleepin’ with your cousin from Ponce.”
Teej’s eyes flickered to Jon’s face, and she burst into giggles. “That’s right,” she snickered. “When I am a human to breed you, they will say that the new one is my cousin from Ponce. You will be fucking my cousin from Ponce! This does not excite you? Finally, you will get to fuck a human woman?”
Jon chuckled. “Yeah,” he said. “but it’s gonna feel weird. Looking into a pair of eyes that aren’t yellow.”
Teej levered herself up onto her elbow, and looked at Jon, who looked back at her. Finally, she levered herself up further, over and onto him, and straddled him, and looked down onto him with lambent yellow eyes.
“I love you, Jon.”
“Love you too, Teej.”
And in the glowing candlelight, the unicorns danced on.
https://www.newgrounds.com/dump/draw/084519e6abbc1f4e4fbb998587c1f2cb
Back to Chapter 16:
Forward to Chapter 18!
Posted Jan 1, 2023, 7:17 AM UTC · edited