Llewellyn’s Song (7 page)

He thought maybe his head had come off, maybe. At any rate,
one thing was sure—his cock was empty. It had exploded into her eager mouth and
she’d gulped his seed with an expression of pure delight. It must have echoed
the look on his face—he hoped. He had a sneaking suspicion that when he came he
probably looked witless, because he certainly felt that way. The only thing
that existed was his cock and the lips hugging it.

He sank to his knees and faced her.

“Where did you learn to do that? And don’t tell me your clan
sisters or whatever you call them have cocks.”

She batted her eyelashes. A very womanly thing to do. “I
just made it up.”

He collapsed onto the cloak and curled up tight. He felt
empty, drained and rather confused. She curled up next to him, her arms around
his shoulders.

“What’s the matter?”

“I was thinking of sharing you, and I wasn’t very happy
about it,” he admitted. “It’s not an elvish thing to do. It’s a fairy thing.
But if we go to Hivernia, you may be tempted to try.”

“Let’s deal with that when it happens.” She tucked her head
into the crook of his neck and he felt her breathing even off and deepen.

She slid into sleep as easily and trustingly as a child. He
lay awake for a long time. Part of it was hunger. And part of it was wonder
that he’d found someone who could fill that aching emptiness he’d felt for so
long. But soon the wonder and hunger faded, and he fell into a deep slumber.

Frostbone

The next morning Tamara woke and saw she was alone. She didn’t
worry. Llewellyn would be off hunting. They needed supplies. She washed, donned
her clothes and set off to gather some food. The camp was set in a deep valley.
At the foot of the camp was a rushing stream. Tamara followed the stream until
she found a likely spot, and then she dug for cattail roots, dog-tooth violet
roots, and even some old dandelion greens and roots. In the winter food was
harder to find, but Tamara had grown up in these valleys and she knew where to
look.

Her pouch filled, she wandered back to the camp. Her stomach
might be empty, but her mind was full. She had chosen Llewellyn without his
consent. Perhaps now he accepted that. They were alone together, and she could
help him on his quest. But what about when they returned to his homeland? He
might not be as enamored with the idea of being married. He had been in love
with his brother’s wife—he’d admitted as much. She was now Queen of Hivernia.
They would be expected to spend time there. None of her clan sisters or mothers
had ever, to her knowledge, been to Hivernia. For one thing, the clan was not
allowed to stray out of their valleys. And that was another thing bothering
her. She’d had time to think her actions through and knew what she’d given up.
But now that the act was done and she’d committed herself, she was starting to
doubt.

She looked up and saw Llewellyn’s tall silhouette near the entrance
of the cave. Her heart gave a funny flutter then. His straight black hair was plaited
and he’d affixed a blue feather to the braid. His eye patch covered the deep
hole where his eye had been, but his other eye was deep amethyst, sometimes
cold, sometimes burning. He turned and saw her, and a tremor seemed to run
through him. He flashed her a wide, white grin. Something deep inside her
unknotted and she smiled back.

“I’ve got some roots for us.”

“Splendid. I managed to snare a rabbit and brought down a
pheasant. If you want, there is some meat on the spit. We should leave soon. I
want to make it to Frostbone’s territory before the real snows start.”

They ate and then set the camp up for the next travelers.
Taking their meager belongings, they set out once again. Tamara felt better
each day. She was still not perfectly healed, but each hour that passed gained
her new strength. She was glad, for she knew she would need it to face the ice
demon king.

Three days passed before they reached the outskirts of
Frostbone’s land. It was marked by standing stones. Huge menhirs, some thrice
as tall as a man, stood in ragged lines. Tamara paused before stepping through.

Llewellyn put his hand on the stones and spoke clearly. “Frostbone,
it is I, Llewellyn Fairnight. I have come to speak of matters that concern us
both.”

“Can he hear you?” Tamara turned and watched, disquiet
prickling up and down her back.

“He said to use the stones to call him. I think we best wait
here.”

Tamara looked around. They stood on a windy plateau. The
stones stretched as far as the eye could see in both directions, and in both
directions there were no trees, no shelter from the biting wind. “Even I, a
stone elf, as you call me, can feel the bitter cold of this place. I hope we
will find shelter soon.”

“Don’t count on it,” said Llewellyn. He wrapped his cloak
twice around himself for warmth and nodded to Tamara to do the same. “Conserve
your body heat and strength. The ice demons need cold to survive. I think we
may find out what it feels like to freeze before this interview is over.”

They huddled together. Night fell, and the stars blazed
above them. Tamara started to feel the chill seeping into her bones. It made
her remember lying on the floor of the cave when the behemoth had found her.
She was about to say that to Llewellyn when a sparkle caught her eye. She
stiffened.

“Yes, I saw it too,” he breathed in her ear. “Don’t move,
but be ready to run if I say.”

She tensed, waiting. The sparkle grew brighter and drew
nearer. As it did, she caught her breath in wonder. She’d seen ice demons
before—who living in the far north hadn’t? But she hadn’t seen their sleighs,
or the white-furred creatures that pulled them. Larger than deer, with long,
silky white fur and silver antlers, the creatures were harnessed to a crystal
sleigh driven by an ice demon. It motioned to the sleigh.

Llewellyn helped Tamara into the sleigh, then drew a fur
cover over her knees. Tamara was too bemused to speak, but Llewellyn said, “Thank
you for coming to get us. This is quite comfortable.”

“Hang on tightly,” said the ice demon. Its voice sounded
like snow crunching beneath boots.

Tamara barely had time to grasp the sides of the sleigh before
the demon shook the reins and the white deer fled into the night. They ran so
fast that Tamara’s eyes watered and the tears froze on her cheeks. She cuddled
closer to Llewellyn, and he put his arms around her. The night sky wheeled
above them as the sleigh whispered across the snow. Sometimes they crossed
lakes or rivers. The ice was black and the deers’ hooves hissed like ice skates.
The journey seemed endless, or perhaps it was just the deep silence. Everything
was frozen solid, even the air seemed to cut like sharp, cold quartz. Tamara’s
cheeks felt numb and her fingers and toes tingled with frost.

“We’ve arrived.”

Llewellyn’s voice roused her from slumber. She opened her
eyes, blinking, and then sat up and stared. They were in front of a magnificent
palace made of sparkling ice.

Starlight ran up and down the towers, and lamps cast pools
of light that lit the palace from within. The demon waited until Llewellyn and
Tamara had climbed out, then he drove off, the sleigh whooshing in the snow.

Tamara took Llewellyn’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Together
they walked over an ice bridge and under a clear arch to enter the brightly lit
palace. The door was ice, the floor was packed snow, and the sconces on the
walls were ice crystals that held stones that burned with a cold fire and
glowed blue, white or yellow. Everything shimmered and sparkled. It was
breathtakingly beautiful.

Their footsteps echoed in the wide hallway. There were ice
demons everywhere. They stood in a line and there was only one way to go between
them. Tamara felt her hand crushing Llewellyn’s but he made no protest. Her
heart hammered in her chest. The ice demons didn’t move. They could have been
carved out of ice except for the strange blue fire that danced within them. And
then they arrived in the throne room.

Silver-frosted tinsel hung in garlands from the ceiling and
there was a huge white tree in the center of the room. Ice crystals glittered
and shone upon it. On the throne sat the biggest demon of all, Frostbone. He
too looked as if he were carved from a block of ice. The blue fire that lit him
was paler than most—almost white. His eyes were like two blue flames. He stood
as they entered and said, “Welcome to Winterhaven. I have been waiting for you,
Llewellyn Fairnight.”

Llewellyn stopped at the foot of Frostbone’s throne and
bowed. “I’m honored to be here. I’ve heard of your palace and its beauty, but
mere words cannot describe it. I feel most privileged.”

“And this is your mate? Be welcome.”

Tamara had to agree with Llewellyn. The beauty of the place
was simply astounding. She gave a bow too, and said, “Thank you for your
hospitality.” Her voice didn’t waver a bit.

Frostbone said, “It is the least I can do. Llewellyn
Fairnight and his brother freed us from the Mouse King.”

“Don’t forget Branagh,” said Llewellyn.

“I have not.” Frostbone clapped his hands. It sounded like
bells ringing. “Bring refreshments for our guests. Come sit down. We have much
to discuss and little time.”

“So you too have heard,” said Llewellyn softly.

“Many of my people have been lured away by the tempting
promises of a wandering ice demon. He promised more land, better hunting and
riches for all. It seemed too convenient to be true. The ones who left were
young and foolish. They have been stirring trouble on the borders and so I send
my troops or go myself to apprehend them. But this new demon is too clever for
me. By the time I arrive he has faded away. And I hear his army grows stronger.
Many rocs have joined him. But the worst news is that he has somehow joined
forces with the behemoth king. That’s why so many of their kind have fled. The
old, the sick and the weak are being pushed out of their lands.”

“The one I killed looked old,” said Llewellyn, nodding. “So
the Mouse King has somehow found a way to return.”

“Yes, and despite my warnings many of the younger ice demons
have decided to join him. He wears not the same face, nor rides a dragon. This
time, I think his strength lies in the behemoth king, for how else could he get
so powerful in so short a time? He must wear the disguise of an ice demon
though, and somehow he fooled the rocs into joining his side. That was a heavy
blow. The rocs guard the passage through the mountains to the north, and if our
people cannot use it anymore, we will be hampered in our summer migration.”

“I will return to Hivernia with this news. It grieves me to
see your kingdom under such a threat. Be assured that Branagh will send his
army here, and we will combat at your side.”

“Your offer is generous. I hope it will be timely. As you
can see, it is winter solstice soon, the most important of our traditional
fêtes. I will use this as a chance to gather my troops together. We will be
waiting for Branagh’s army.”

An ice demon came bearing a silver tray with drinks. Tamara
took one and winced. The cup was freezing cold. The drink was icy, but
delicious. She found herself enjoying the sweet wintergreen and spice flavor.

“Come, I will show you to your room,” said Frostbone when
they had finished their drinks. “Tomorrow, at first light, the sleigh will take
you back to the standing stones. I wish your visit could have been longer, but
I have much to do before winter solstice. If the war is not over by spring
thaws, we will surely lose everything.”

“I know that.” Llewellyn didn’t touch him, but he raised his
hand and held it with his palm facing Frostbone’s chest. “We will make haste.”

Frostbone nodded and held his hand out too, nearly, but not
quite touching Llewellyn. Then he left them.

Their room was made of ice. Windows with ice panes looked
out over the endless tundra. The moon had risen, casting everything in a
silvery glow. Tamara sank down on the bed. It was hard, being made of carved
ice, but it was covered with a pile of deep furs. “I thought that demons were
unable to speak our language.”

Llewellyn nodded. “Most cannot. Frostbone was under the
Mouse King’s spell for a long time. They are immortal, or nearly so, unless
someone cuts their heads off. I don’t know much about their way of life. In the
summer they retreat to deep caves of eternal ice. Here, in this land, they can
live for most of the year. But Thaw finds it eventually, even if it is for a
short time. If the Mouse King is not defeated, he may take over this land and
enslave the ice demons once more. Frostbone is afraid of that.”

“I would be too,” said Tamara. She couldn’t suppress a
shudder of fear. The last time the Mouse King had enslaved Rog, a mighty
dragon, and had used his power. Now, if Frostbone spoke the truth, he had the
behemoth king’s might. If only she hadn’t left her tribe! She had to be able to
convince them to send a troop of warriors. She hugged her knees to her chest.
She could still do that. It would be at great risk though. The penalty for
coming back into the tribe after leaving it for a male was death. But when the
clan chief mother heard her tale, she would surely waive her punishment and
agree to help Hivernia and the ice demons defeat the Mouse King! And then,
after that, she had to find a way to give Llewellyn back his elf song, and at
the same time discover her own. Only true love would unlock the notes of that
song. It was too early to tell, but she found herself wishing with all her
heart that Llewellyn was the key.

She stared out the ice-paned window at the night sky, where
mysterious borealis shimmered red and green. Her world suddenly seemed to
teeter on the edge of a knife, and she wasn’t sure which way it would fall.

Llewellyn could tell Tamara’s mind was in turmoil. He thought
he could guess at some of it, for they shared the same fears and doubts. But he
wondered how much of it was due to regret at leaving her home. A d’ark t’uath
had never left her clan to marry—at least in his time.

After he undressed, he sat next to her and ran his hands
over her back, massaging gently.

She sighed and leaned back into his embrace. He lifted her
tunic off and then slid under the covers with her. Together they soon had the
furs toasty warm. And the touch of her skin was enough to arouse him. He slid
his cock between her legs, slowly pushing it in and out, practically purring as
the satin skin of her inner thighs stroked him.

She kept her back to him and pressed her buttocks closer,
opening her legs to catch his cock with them. “Got you,” she giggled, and
squeezed tightly.

He reached over her shoulders and captured one of her
breasts in his hand. “Got you too,” he said. He loved the feel of her
breast—heavy and firm, her nipple hardened to a little pebble when he pinched
it. He pinched it gently, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Then she
reached down between her legs and grabbed his cock.

That made him groan aloud. Her fingers closed around it and
then she started a slow but steady pumping, coaxing him to move his hips. Her
own hips pressed backwards and she spread her legs so he felt the wickedly wet
heat of her sex.

But she didn’t let him press his advances. Letting go of
him, she twisted around so that she faced him. Without a word, she looped her
arms around his neck and kissed him. He let her mouth explore his. She urged
his lips apart with her tongue and then ran it over his front teeth, then
dipped it in his mouth. She tasted of spice and wintermint. He opened his mouth
wider, deepening their kiss. His breath came quickly as the image of her lush
lips closing over his cock came to mind. He crushed her to him, wanting to melt
into her kiss, her arms, her embrace, so that he couldn’t tell where he left
off and she began.