The Solitary Arrow Ch. 22

As they pulled apart, Hyandai said, "I am fully satisfied to have one man fascinated with me." Then her eyes flicked down to the dozing Wendy. "And one woman."

Harlen nodded. "That will take growing used to," he confirmed. "Though, I think that the path to that will be far more pleasurable than arduous."

Lifting Wendy from the log, Harlen carried her up the stairs to Hyandai's chamber. He laid the still half-dozing young woman upon the bed as Hyandai pulled down the coverlet.

Wendy favored Harlen with a smile. "I am exhausted," she said. "You two play without me, if you've a mind."

Hyandai snickered behind Harlen, and he turned to face her. She had already slipped out of her gown and was kneeling onto the foot of the bed, crawling up Wendy's body with catlike grace. She held herself low and dragged her body against the young woman's.

"It is not so easy, Wendy, to leave you out of love play," said Hyandai, and kissed her.

With a twitch, Wendy's eyes shot open. "Wow!" she exclaimed. "Is that what you do to Harlen when you make him rise again?"

Hyandai nodded, smiling at her as Wendy grabbed her around the neck and kissed her again. The two were pressing together, and Hyandai had one leg between Wendy's long thighs, pressing the muscular upper side to the young lady's groin.

Soon, Wendy had slipped her gown up and over herself, despite Hyandai's weight on her chest. Hyandai lowered her head to Wendy's rounded breasts while Harlen began to kiss his way up her smooth thigh.

Harlen reached the top of the thigh and began lapping at Wendy's folded slit. She gave out a quiet moan at the stimulation of two mouths moving over her form. His tongue entered her and she gasped out, even as Hyandai began to kiss her neck and ear.

She watched Harlen begin kissing his way up her, and soon he entered her with a practiced and smooth stroke of his thick organ. She pushed up to meet him and Hyandai watched the two, sitting back, yet still touching Wendy's smooth skin with her cool fingertips.

Harlen moved into her with long, even strokes, building up speed and urgency with deliberate lack of haste. Wendy glanced over and saw Hyandai moving toward the foot of the bed. She then felt a tongue moving over her private places even as Harlen filled her inside. Both groaned as Hyandai plied her tongue over their individual body parts.

Then, with a gasp that startled Harlen, Wendy climaxed. She arched her back upward and lifted him from the bed clutching him to her as he continued thrusting. Wendy relaxed after a long moment; still gulping air from the intense explosion of pleasure they had just given her. Harlen looked down at her with an inquisitive look in his eyes..

Wendy tried to grunt out an answer to the question he did not ask. "If you had just felt what Hyandai did with her tongue just now, you would have climaxed, too," she said.

"No worries," Harlen said, smiling, then speeding up, causing Wendy to wiggle in response. She felt his muscles in his arms tighten and knew he was about to spend himself.

She nodded eagerly at him. "Give me your seed, lover," said Wendy, gripping his rump with her hands and pulling him into her. Harlen lifted his upper body from the bed and curved his back as he finished a last few strokes of his cock into her. Then he grunted out in pleasure, and Wendy felt his seed fill her.

For long moments, they lay together with Hyandai coming up to lie beside them, still stroking Wendy and Harlen's flanks. Then Harlen moved to one side, pulling his now limp organ from Wendy. He lay beside her and stroked her other side, opposite Hyandai. Wendy smiled at the two. "I am so glad you two desire me," she said moving her hands over both, exploring the two very different bodies on either side of her with her fingertips.

"We are glad you want us, as well, are we not Harlen?" asked Hyandai, peering over Wendy's body.

Harlen nodded enthusiastic agreement.

---

The sun was peering from behind the cloudy sky, but there was little sign that rain would come, when the Rangers of Morrovale formed up the next day at midmorning. Of the two hundreds and fifty-four that had left Morrovale, one hundred and seventy-one would be returning, with Harlen, Hyandai, and Rigilus, as well. Every elf in Embalis turned out to watch them depart, a number that surprised Harlen, almost eight hundreds.

Harlen had visited Hyandai's father earlier in his smithy. He had yet to meet the large, powerful elf. He walked into the shop amid the clamor of a hammer and steel, he peered at the floor, and the walls, and even at the fire, then steeled his will and spoke.

"Greetings, father of Hyandai," said Harlen, bowing when the smith turned toward him.

The middle-aged elf nodded. "Greetings, Harlen of Morrovale, betrothed of my daughter," replied Emorianel, studying the man with an air of someone appraising a weapon's quality.

"I have come to ask your blessing upon our union," said Harlen, forcing himself to meet the elder elf's stern eyes.

Emorianel looked at him a long moment, still judging what he saw. "I would ask you, Harlend," he said. "Do you love her for her beauty? Or do you love her for her heart?"

Hyandai had warned Harlen that elven parents often questioned their children's suitors when they sought blessing. Which was the right answer to such a question? On the surface, the heart was the more proper answer, showing the person not shallow.

"I love every part of Hyandai," began Harlen, "I love her beauty, and her heart, and I love her fey, and I love her abilities. Most of all, I love her love for me." He did not know if bringing up a girl's fey, moreso, Hyandai's, to her father, was a wise choice. However, he was trying to be honest with the man who would be his father as well, when they wed.

The elf thought about that answer, setting down his hammer and walking to the doorway. Harlen hoped, with all his heart, that he was not ready to dismiss Harlen from the smithy.

Emorianel did not dismiss Harlen, however, he looked out into the field before his little smithy. "I have reservations of my beloved daughter marrying a human, Harlen," he said, switching with ease to the Westron tongue, "I will not lie to you. I know that she has a choice before her when she does so. To be widowed while she is still young, or to shorten her life to extend yours. It grieves me to know she will suffer either way, and I do not wish to give blessing to such a losing proposition."

Harlen felt his heart clench in his chest, and prepared to speak in his own defense.

"Nay, stay your lips," said Emorianel, interrupting the huntsman before he could speak. "I do not wish to bless that, but I must bless my daughter's happiness." He looked at Harlen with saddened eyes. "And being with yourself and Wendy gives her much joy. I see it when she but looks at you and Wendy, or even speaks of either or both of you. I am glad that you love her fey. For many humans do not understand how important it is not just to tolerate an elf's fay, but to embrace it." He leaned against the doorframe. "It is not just a part of her, it is the center of her, the foundation upon which the remainder is built."

Harlen nodded.

"I grant my blessing," said Emorianel, "to both you and Wendy to stand beside my daughter, to become one with her, and to join our clan." He turned and offered Harlen a big smile. "Harlen of clan Yavanaur." He embraced Harlen in a crushing hug. "Normally, her mother would be whom you would speak to of this," he said, wearing a broad, playful, grin. "I did not envy your having to face her father instead."

Harlen had never had a surname before, being the first of his line a freeman. He would have passed on his name, in the form of Disharlen, to any children had. Now, however, he had one, or would once they were wed. The idea of taking the wife's name did not strike Harlen as odd. Many freemen who had themselves no surname married freewoman who did, and would take that surname as their own at that point. It pleased him to think of this.

"Thank you, Emorianel," said Harlen in elven, bowing.

Hyandai's father nodded still wearing a small smile. "You can call me father, if you would prefer, for I am old enough, I deem," he said. "Hyandai says your father died when you were but a child of a few summers. A tragedy. I will try to act as one, if you would have it."

"I would welcome it very much," replied Harlen, almost in tears. Emorianel embraced him again. "Then go with my blessings, son, and be my daughter's groom when the time comes."

Harlen bowed and exited the small workshop; he spied a worried-looking Hyandai in the shadow of a small tree nearby. He walked toward her with a purposeful gait. Wendy had a worried expression on her face, though she contrived to look at rest, sitting at the base of the tree. "Well?" asked Hyandai, her normal formal speech pattern forgotten for the nonce, else her association with humans was telling on her.

Harlen kissed her brow, helped Wendy up from the ground, and gave her forehead a similar kiss before speaking.

"Your father welcomed us to be of your clan, if that is what you wished," said Harlen, smiling at her, and taking both Hyandai and Wendy's hands.

Hyandai's face, in an instant, shifted from worried to elated, and tears ran down her cheeks. Her tears had been poised for either eventuality, but these were the happier sort.

"Then it but remains for the year to pass," said Hyandai, kissing Wendy, then Harlen.

---

The Rangers of Morrovale began their march for home.

Forming two lines, they moved off into the forest. The elves did not cheer their departure, they observed and would wave and smile at any of the rangers who looked upon them. It took a brief time for the regiment to pass out of Embalis. In truth, the company was quite small, not even two hundreds now.

There was no organized marching order. Men moved up and back at their whim, to walk beside friends or to change to whom they were speaking. Harlen, Hyandai, and Wendy were near the rear of the column, Harlen walking N'umessa behind him with Wendy riding upon the beautiful steed. The arts of the healers had healed her foot, for the most part, but some mending was still needed.

The scenic forest about them kept the marching men entertained. As huntsmen, and huntsmen who appreciated nature, they were thrilled at some of what they saw. Now that they could walk at leiseure, and were not forced to watch for possible enemies, they could enjoy the travel, itself. Tammer had to round up wanderers with some frequency, when they strayed from the main company.

The company had been marching for the better part of four hours when Tammer called for a rest. They fanned out over a small area under the boughs of an ornthalion. Food was broken out of small rucksacks packed by the elven folk to last the three days' march back to Morrovale. The trio sat to one side, eating and speaking in a quiet group.

"Harlen, I have a wondrous thing to tell you of," said Hyandai, unable to contain herself any longer and having kept her secret for almost two days.

The huntsman looked at her, and then grinned. "Oh?" he asked. He had his side to the women and was whittling, a habit he had picked up again as things had settled into something of a routine. Wendy moved behind Hyandai, and squatted, bracketing the elf with her knees and putting her arms about Hyandai's shoulders.

"I am with child," said Hyandai, her smile so broad as to show every tooth she possessed.

Harlen sat still for a moment. His hands idle at last. He executed a slow turn and held up what he had been carving. It was a tiny cradle.

"You knew?" accused Wendy.

Harlen gave a very abbreviated shrug. "My grandmother midwifed half of Morrovale as I grew up," he said. "I would be remiss if I did not know the signs of a pregnant woman on sight. I was going to tell you soon."

The two women moved toward him with menacing expressions, in a low crawl and then sprung upon him. The three tumbled to the ground and the women took turns tickling his ribs as the other held his arms as best she could. He made a half-hearted attempt to resist their attack and their giggles and laughter brought many odd looks from the other rangers, followed by accommodating smiles.

Harlen managed to grab Hyandai's head and brought it to his own for a long kiss. "I am beyond happy, my love," he said upon pulling away from the kiss. "Thank you."

She smiled. "Thank you," said Hyandai.

Wendy sat back and smiled at them. "Me next," she said with an air of petulance.

"I'll do my best," promised Harlen to Hyandai's delight.

She giggled. "I am certain he will, too," said Hyandai. "We will hold him to his commitments."

---

The march took two days to the edge of the wood. Their luck was good, and the weather was pleasant, excepting a light rain on the morning of the second day. They saw no sign of the Isolationists, but did run across a few of the deep-wood scouts that Embalis had begun to send forth again.

The company was rather startled as they forded the river, though, and found the far side occupied by troops of the duke. A handful of riders rode out of the ruins of Markam's Ford and met them as the last of the company emerged, wet, from the shallows of the ford.

The lead rider hailed them as they watched, and Tammer stepped forth.

"Hail, soldier of Morrovale, what passes?" said Tammer, curiosity etching his lined old face.

The cavalryman reined his horse and looked down at the huntsmen. "The duke would speak with you, Master Tammer, and with your senior huntsmen," the rider said.

"We will report to him at once, then, upon reaching Morrovale," said Tammer.

The cavalryman looked over the group again. "There is no need to wait," he said. "The duke is in Markam's Ford, overseeing the rebuilding of a garrison there. We will escort you and your entourage to him." He paused a long moment. "He is most insistent that he has questions to put to you, Master Tammer, and is quite in a state regarding your return."

A look of faint worry passed over the old ranger's face. "Then let us go to him at once."

Tammer picked out Harlen and a few other senior huntsmen and Rigilus. The group of a half dozen walked with the horsemen falling in behind them.

An uncomfortable image of the time Harlen had been escorted to the whipping post a few years ago flashed through his mind. His palms began to sweat with nervousness. That was also the last time he had faced Duke Anasper. There was murmuring among the other senior huntsmen, but Harlen walked in silence, as did Tammer.

Amid the ruins, they came to a large tent, one capable of having many chambers within. They had pitched other tents about and the noise of construction was quite loud. The duke must have brought half his army here to act as crew on the work teams, judging from the number of men working and resting about the old central square of the town.

The cavalryman leaped from his saddle and entered the tent's main flap. The other horsemen formed a loose ring about the huntsmen, not menacing, but, as if by intent, interposing themselves between the group and any possible escape.

There was a long pause as the gathered huntsmen waited. Then, the leader of the horsemen emerged, and held the flap back. A moment later, a man exited the tent, a man with long limbs, and an overall slender appearance. It was the duke.

Harlen was always surprised at the duke's youthful appearance, he was only a few years Harlen's senior, and the huntsman often forgot that fact. The huntsmen knelt before their sovereign and bowed their heads.

"Well, Master Tammer," intoned Duke Anasper, "what have you to say for yourselves?"

Tammer rose from his knee. "Milord, we emerge victorious from battle," he replied.

Duke Anasper regarded the huntsmen with cool eyes. "That was not what I meant, Master Tammer," he said. "You raised an army in my lands and waged war within another nation. Should I allow this?"

Tammer paused to think. "My lord, the Rangers of Morrovale, by custom and by law, are required to assist the Windirii in time of need," he said.

The duke's eyes widened a bit. "A VERY old law, which we have not observed for generations," retorted Anasper.

"This was the first time they needed our help," said Tammer, his eyes hardening. "Or should we have failed even an old ally?"

Anasper paced back and forth a moment. "Do you know why it offends me, Master Tammer?" he asked, his own eyes taking on a hardness of their own.

"I would never presume to know the mind of my lord until he has spoken it," replied Tammer.

"Because you did this thing without consulting me," said Duke Anasper in a most insulted tone, "denying me the option of joining you."

All of the huntsmen blinked at those words. "My lord?" asked Tammer.

"You think you alone care for the elves of Embalis?" the duke asked, eyeing the old huntsman. "Given the choice, I would have sent a thousand men to the succor of the people of our sister village in the elven lands. But, alas, you have denied that choice to me."

"I apologize, my lord," said Tammer, lowering his head. "Yet in my defense, I say that had we not moved with the haste we did, we would have failed to arrive in time to help. We arrived in scant time as it is."

"I will accept that excuse," said Anasper, "and your apology." His eyes softened a bit, and he looked at the huntsmen, all of whom were still kneeling, except Tammer. "Stand up, you lot," he commanded.

The other huntsmen stood up, including Harlen and Rigilus. The duke looked them over for a long moment. "Quite a fetching uniform you have there," he said, his voice appreciative. Then his eyes came to rest upon Rigilus. "That man is new to me," he said, pointing at the Windy Island Ranger.

Rigilus bowed low, elven style. "I am Rigilus Evindus, Ranger of the Windy Isles, milord," he said in a formal tone, as he stood upright.

"I see," said Anasper in a whisper. "And your purpose here?" A moment passed as Rigilus thought. "The Rangers of the Windy Isles have sent me to act as an emissary between the Rangers of Morrovale and the Windy Island Rangers, milord," he confided.

"An ambassador then?" asked the duke. "How wonderful. We've not had an embassy from the Windy Isles for long years."

"Milord, I am not . . ." Rigilus started to speak.

"Going to tell me you're not an ambassador," interrupted Anasper. "Lest you seek to be removed from Morrovale this very day."

Rigilus looked toward Harlen, who gave him the slightest of nods. "Yes, milord, I seek to be an embassy between your lands and peoples and my own," he said with a broad smile.

"Well said," said the duke. "You will be a fine ambassador. I accept your embassy, and will reciprocate at the soonest opportunity."

"Master Tammer," said Anasper, changing tack and mood with ease. "You left my realm, from all reports, with two hundreds and fifty men. "Yet, now I am told you have only a hundred and seventy in your ranks. Was the battle so fierce to claim such a horrible toll in men's lives?" he asked.

"No, milord," replied Tammer. "Thirty-two were lost in the battle. And that despite the fierceness of the combat."

"Thirty-two," said Anasper, his eyes lowering and his expression becoming somber. "A high, but reasonable number, for fierce fighting. What of the other fifty?"

"They remain in Embalis to guard against further insurrection by the enemy," said Tammer. "And to receive instruction at the hands of the elves."

"A year and a day?" asked Anasper.

Tammer nodded. "Of course, milord," he said.

"As you can see," the duke said, waving his hands toward the construction crews. "I have decided to resettle and garrison Markam's Ford. I will expect a contingent of you rangers to take up abode here, though I leave that to your own affair to decide who, and how they will be organized." He favored the group with a broad smile. "By donning those uniforms, you have all just reentered my service as auxiliaries of my armies." He gave Tammer a cunning look. "I doubt Master Tammer has quite so informed you."