[Estelyn Telcontar]

Merisuwyniel felt her lips tingle like the ringing of an alarm clock. Loth to open her eyes, she yielded to the sensation, savouring its sensuous sweetness. Involuntarily, her arms stretched out to pull sinewy shoulders closer. If this was a dream, she wished never to awaken.

Yet what was the sound of a chainsaw doing in her dream? She felt a deep rumbling at her back and became conscious of Chrysophylax’ loud snores. Startled, she opened her eyes and realized that the kiss was real and that the one person she had tried unsuccessfully to banish from her thoughts was holding her in his arms. His burning eyes looked into hers yearningly, hungrily. Carefully, so as not to wake the dragon, he pulled her to her feet, took her hand, and led her into the woods.

“I must investigate some of the bridges over the river,” he whispered. “Will you come with me?”

She nodded dreamily, allowing him to lift her onto his strange mount and leaning her head back on his mighty chest as they rode swiftly and silently into the dark forest. The Warg soon reached the bank of a river and followed its course.

They passed several bridges, one wooden, covered with a roof; another made only of ropes; a third broken and replaced by a boat, tied on the far bank. The Orc dismounted and inspected each of them, warning Merisuwyniel not to touch the water.

Suddenly, they heard voices ahead of them in the darkness.

“It is not very big,” the first said.

“But it will make fine eating when it’s hung a bit,” a second responded.

“Don’t hang it too long,” added a third. “It’s none too fat to start with.”

Merisuwyniel turned her head to look questioningly at the Orc warrior. His eyes widened and he whispered, “Spiders! They have captured someone, either of your company or mine.”

“But aren’t spiders more afraid of us than we are of them?” she questioned, puzzled.

“These must be the males,” he explained. “They do not fear anything.”

“Can you help the poor victim?” she asked anxiously. Her Bow was lying back at the camp, and she felt helpless without it.

“I will sing an ancient incantation to bewilder the spiders,” he said. “Then we can free the captive.” He hoped fervently that it would not be one of his men; if so, he would have some serious explaining to do – or he would have to kill him without frightening his sensually sensitive beloved.

He began to sing:

Old fat spider spinning in a tree!
Old fat spider can’t see me!
Attercop! Attercop!
Won’t you stop,
Stop your spinning and look for me!

The voices ceased speaking, and the rustle of many legs running in their direction could be heard. The Warg ran to the left, where the singing was repeated, with the same results. Swiftly running to and fro, they came to the centre of the dense black shadow ahead of them. With surprising ease, the warrior pulled his magical sword from its sheath and slashed the webs that obstructed their path. Merisuwyniel’s sharp eyes discerned a bundle hanging from a tree. “There!” she cried out, and the mighty ZigZag sword slashed the thick strand that tied it to the branches. It fell into the Elf’s arms; she held it tightly as they galloped away.

When they had reached a safe distance, they halted to open the cocoon. Soon, red-golden locks appeared; Merisuwyniel gasped. “It’s Pimpiowyn!”

“She is one of your companions,” he stated, secretly relieved. “What shall we do with her?”

“We must bring her to our camp,” she answered. She gazed fondly at the lovely face, its lips smiling in pleasant dreams – no doubt there were visions of sugarplums dancing in her head, Merisuwyniel mused.

Swift as a breeze the Warg bore them back to the clearing. They bedded the slumbering Quarterling gently next to the warm body of the still sleeping Chrysophylax. Before she realized what had happened, Merisuwyniel was again riding into the dark, dank, dreary, dangerous forest.

“Where are we going?” she queried.

“I want to show you my favourite place,” he answered.

The Warg slowed its pace to pass through thick shrubbery, then they entered a small clearing. Fireflies fluttered and flitted about, playfully lighting the darkness. Their shimmer was reflected from the surface of a wonderfully clear pool. Without hesitating, the Orc stepped into the water, from which a mist rose. “Come,” he coaxed. “It is quite warm.”

She clasped his outstretched hands and waded toward him. Soon she was seated in the shallow water, leaning her head on his shoulder. With a deep, contented sigh, she closed her eyes and melted into his embrace.

[ February 17, 2003: Message edited by: Estelyn Telcontar ]