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Sharing: The Mistress of the Shadowland; The next Chapter
And here is the new chapter. :)
Hope you'll enjoy it.
♥
Chapter 7: It is nothing more than a physical desire
Summary:
To his horror, Trálír discovers at breakfast with his father that his romance with Anwyn has come to his attention. Fear fills him, for he suspects that this will lead to nothing good.
Weeks went by since the Sahuagin's attack on Trálír and Anwyn, and summer had already passed its peak. The leaves on the trees were beginning to change color, the days were getting shorter and the nights longer. The steady wind that blew across the choppy sea was cool and unpleasant. In the early morning, when night gave way to day, the forest and the coast were shrouded in opaque fog, it often rained and sometimes the waves were so high that it was impossible for Anwyn's father to go out to sea.
She knew from years of experience that the winters would be cruel.
At the end of the month of wood, winter announced itself with icy storms and it wasn't long before the frost settled on everything. A short time later, the Blackwater Bay was covered in thick snow. It was no longer possible to go fishing in the cold and for the next few months the people and all the creatures of the land stayed in houses, caves and other dwellings to survive the harsh and depriving winter.
Anwyn, dressed in a skirt, tunic and cloak of brown wool, wrapped a thick home-knitted shawl around herself before leaning forward and pulling her calf-high leather boots over her thick knee-high socks. The approaching cold was getting to her father, who was still fast asleep on his camp in the early morning. She opened the door and closed it quietly behind her, careful not to make any noise so as not to disturb him. The wind tore at her hair and clothes and Anwyn had the feeling that it would almost knock her off her feet because it was blowing so hard. When she was able to open the stable door, she quickly scurried inside and greeted the animals. Anwyn stroked Oksa and the goats behind the ears, who clearly enjoyed her affection.
She hadn't seen Trálír for three days and was wondering why. Had something happened? Had he gotten into trouble at the castle for sneaking away for their meetings? Was he sick or had someone around him fallen ill that he couldn't leave? Or did he no longer want to see her?
This ignorance tugged at Anwyn's heart and saddened her deeply.
When she had finished her daily chores, she sat always on her campside and got lost in her thoughts. She was often silent for hours, simply staring ahead of her.
Her father noticed this too and frowned worriedly, but when he asked her if something was on her mind, Anwyn's answer was always a shake of the head, a faint smile and the words that he shouldn't worry about her.
He had no idea that she often thought of Trálír, that she missed him every minute he was not around. She longed for him, for his voice, his smile, the words he spoke to her.
And she yearned for his kisses, his touches, his closeness to her.
When fall had not yet begun, they had met every other day. Trálír arrived early in the morning and helped her with her daily chores. What was completely incomprehensible to Anwyn at first now felt like normality.
Sometimes Anwyn wondered if this was what a marriage felt like, to feel so comfortable in each other's presence.
They would talk for hours about their dreams, often laughing about the most nonsensical things and before their time together was over they would sink into each other's embrace, exchanging gentle or passionate kisses.
But it had never gone beyond kissing or cautiously exploring each other. Trálír had made no effort to go beyond gentle touches, although Anwyn had often sensed that it had taken him a lot of strength to hold back. She had noticed the tension in his shoulders when she had hugged him, his breathing had quickened when she gently caressed his cheek or lips with her fingers.
The last time they had met, they had found a sheltered corner in the forest and sunk down on the soft moss. Hungry kisses were exchanged, soft words whispered, their touches full of desire for each other.
Trálír leaned over Anwyn and slowly slid his knee between her legs, letting his weight settle on top of her.
His right leg pressed against her intimately and she could feel the bulge in his pants pressing against her hip.
Unconsciously, Anwyn pressed herself against his body and a moan escaped Trálír's shapely lips. Her heart beat up to her throat when she heard him and to her surprise, he suddenly straightened up. Trálír knelt between her thighs and breathed heavily. Anwyn looked at him worried.
"Have I done something wrong?" she asked uncertainly.
Trálír returned her gaze tenderly and shook his head. With his right hand, he gently gripped her chin and his thumb stroked her lower lip.
"Love, I have to slow down," he whispered. "I don't want to rush things. This, between us, this is supposed to be special, Anwyn."
He reached for her hands, pulled her close and then enveloped her in his arms. He kissed her tenderly on the forehead.
"I am not like the other elves who wander through the villages in the dark in search of physical satisfaction. I don't feel like exploiting the feelings of my counterpart for my physical desires. What I want is this."
His index finger slid from her lips over the delicate skin of her neck to the edge of her closed tunic. He stopped over her heart.
"This is what I want," Trálír whispered and looked deep into Anwyn's eyes. "Your heart, your soul. All that you are and feel."
Anwyn swallowed.
"I want you."
With a smile, she placed her hand on his cheek.
"Although I must admit that your body also has a special effect on me," Trálír admitted mischievously with a cheeky grin. „But unfortunately I have to leave you now, Anwyn. As much as I would like to stay.“
Anwyn smiled at his words and slowly straightened up with him. She leisurely ran her fingers through his silky long hair, which he wore loose, and kissed him tenderly in farewell. Hand in hand, they walked together to Arod who stood patiently by a nearby tree and before Trálír mounted, he took Anwyn's hands in his and pressed a gentle kiss on them and rode back towards the castle. Lost in thought, Anwyn walked back to the house.
And now she was standing here in the stable, handing the animals fresh hay and wondering why she hadn't seen or heard from him for three days.
Anwyn scratched Oksa's ears one last time, then turned away and left the stout. As she closed the door, the cold wind tugged at her again so she hurried back into the house.
She opened the door and entered the house. As the sky was covered with dark clouds, hardly any daylight entered their home through the windows.
It was so gloomy in the room that Anwyn decided to light the bowl that stood on the table and was filled with tran.
It was not yet cold enough to light the small open fire between the two campsites and burning the wood would be a waste of winter supplies. So the warm clothes they were wearing would have to do for now.
Anwyn turned towards her father when she heard him moving, groaning in pain.
Doran sat up, brushing back the dark gray hair that reached his shoulders. Tired, he rubbed his eyes with his hands.
"Good morning, Father," Anwyn greeted him with a warm smile. "How was your sleep?"
"Not long enough," he confessed to her and rose from the bed. The long shirt he was wearing fell down to his calves.
"How's the weather, child? Can I go out to sea, fishing?"
Anwyn shook her head. "No, it's storming. The waves are so high the boat would tip."
Doran sighed.
"How about you lie down again, Father? We won't be able to do much today."
"I have to go to the village, Anwyn. There are a few things I need to do before winter descends upon us."
"In this weather?" Anwyn asked, looking at him with disapproval in her eyes. "It wouldn't be an easy road for you. Let me take care of your business."
The old fisherman sank back onto the camp and there was gratitude in his gaze as he looked at his daughter.
*****
It was early in the morning and the sun had only risen a few minutes ago when Trálír walked down the grand staircase to enter the hall. To his surprise, his father was already sitting at the end of the large table that stood horizontally in front of the great throne. To the right and left, two more long tables faced each other while the great fire burned in the center. When it came to celebrations, it was possible to host hundreds of guests in it. And yet the hall felt far too small for him when he and his father were in the same room.
Tearlách took also a seat at the already laid table and greeted his older brother with a nod.
Trálír also nodded to his father and then sat down on the long wooden bench.
He looked at Tearlách, who was sitting at the table with a grim expression on his face, his head resting boredly on his hand; he certainly had better things on his mind than having to join his father for breakfast.
Trálír pressed his lips together as he suspected something bad. Without saying a word, he reached for the bread and cut himself a slice.
"What are your plans for today, my son?"
"I'm going hunting," Trálír replied without lifting his eyes as he heard the words his father spoke. He reached for the butter and caught his brother's gaze, who rolled his eyes in exasperation as he guessed where the conversation with the patriarch would lead - nowhere good.
"In this weather?" he asked in a grumpy voice. Trálír scrutinized him and saw the clear disapproval in his gaze.
"I hardly think a deer will run in front of your bow in this storm."
"I know the forest well enough to know where to find something," Trálír replied and his father looked at him in annoyance, for he had heard the defiant tone in his son's voice all too clearly.
Tearlách couldn't help an obvious chuckle.
"You hunt a lot, Trálír."
"The castle is large and we have many people who depend on us," his son replied with a shrug and took a bite of bread.
Trálír, the elder, leaned forward and rested his chin on his clasped hands. There was suspicion in his voice.
"They're servants," Trálír, the Elder, replied, waving his hand in disinterest. "They are humans, half elves, none of them need meat on the table every day."
"But the elven soldiers of this castle deserve to have meat on their plates? I don't think I agree with you on this one," said his son, looking directly at him and giving his father a displeased look in return. Out of the corner of his eye, Trálír noticed Tearlách leaning forward with an amused grin. It seemed to him as if his younger brother was watching the debate between them as closely as he was watching a drama on the stages of Baldur's Gate.
"A ruler cares for all his subjects, not just those of his own race."
Trálír watched as his father leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms in front of his chest. The dark red velvet tunic stretched across his broad upper body and muscular arms.
"You are no ruler," the older elf said slowly, emphasizing each word individually.
"I am well aware of that, father. You remind me of this often enough," Trálír replied and took a sip of water from a crystal glass that stood next to his plate.
An awkward silence fell between father and son.
Trálír looked at his younger brother Tearlách, in whose gaze he surprisingly perceived a kind of admiration.
In the silence of the great hall, only the clink of cutlery could be heard as his father turned to him again and said in a quietly menacing voice: "They say that hunting is not the reason why you leave the castle so often."
Unconsciously, Trálír's grip on the knife he held tightened. Tearlách saw his shoulders tense and his gaze darken. When it crossed with his brother's, he shrugged and shook his head slowly, signaling that he was not the source of this rumor.
"And what is the purpose, father?" Trálír asked with tension in his voice. "I'm sure you're about to tell me."
"A woman," replied the ruler of Blackwater Bay. "A human woman."
The disgust in his words made Trálír flinch unconsciously. Nevertheless, he remained silent.
"They say you would share the camp with a human woman," his father spat out and Trálír raised his eyes, looking directly at him.
"Sharing the camp? It's sex, father," he replied in a cool voice. "Sex. It is something you should be quite familiar with, for you too have shared many a night with human women. Why shouldn't I be allowed the same pleasure?"
And as he spoke these words, Trálir remembered how, as a young elf, he had often seen human women stumbling out of his father's chamber. The look in their eyes was distraught, their cheeks wet with tears.
"One speaks of love."
Trálír raised a dark eyebrow. "Well, is that so? Amazing that some people know more about my emotional life than I do."
"Oh dear Father, you shouldn't believe those stupid rumors," Tearlách said and Trálír looked at his younger brother in surprise. „Of course the inhabitants of the castle secretly whisper rumors to each other. Love? As if it were about love," he scoffed. "It's no secret that we elves love to indulge our desires in dark alleys. Many a human woman is more open to certain preferences than the odd elf lady. It's easy to get between their thighs, they're like fair game. A few romantic words, that's all it takes.Trálír seems to have found someone who matches his preferences. Why shouldn't he take advantage of that? And why shouldn't we grant him this pleasure?"
Tearlách raised his glass and toasted his brother with a grin. "So let him have his fun. As he said, this is purely about satisfying his physical appetites."
Trálír, the older one, frowned.
"Be that as it may," Trálír said and straightened up. "I think that settles that matter. I'm going hunting now." He climbed over the bench, nodded to his father and gave his brother a grateful look before leaving the great hall without another word.
Tearlách returned this with a generous smile and then turned back to the breakfast that still stood before him.
Hope you'll enjoy it.
♥
Chapter 7: It is nothing more than a physical desire
Summary:
To his horror, Trálír discovers at breakfast with his father that his romance with Anwyn has come to his attention. Fear fills him, for he suspects that this will lead to nothing good.
Weeks went by since the Sahuagin's attack on Trálír and Anwyn, and summer had already passed its peak. The leaves on the trees were beginning to change color, the days were getting shorter and the nights longer. The steady wind that blew across the choppy sea was cool and unpleasant. In the early morning, when night gave way to day, the forest and the coast were shrouded in opaque fog, it often rained and sometimes the waves were so high that it was impossible for Anwyn's father to go out to sea.
She knew from years of experience that the winters would be cruel.
At the end of the month of wood, winter announced itself with icy storms and it wasn't long before the frost settled on everything. A short time later, the Blackwater Bay was covered in thick snow. It was no longer possible to go fishing in the cold and for the next few months the people and all the creatures of the land stayed in houses, caves and other dwellings to survive the harsh and depriving winter.
Anwyn, dressed in a skirt, tunic and cloak of brown wool, wrapped a thick home-knitted shawl around herself before leaning forward and pulling her calf-high leather boots over her thick knee-high socks. The approaching cold was getting to her father, who was still fast asleep on his camp in the early morning. She opened the door and closed it quietly behind her, careful not to make any noise so as not to disturb him. The wind tore at her hair and clothes and Anwyn had the feeling that it would almost knock her off her feet because it was blowing so hard. When she was able to open the stable door, she quickly scurried inside and greeted the animals. Anwyn stroked Oksa and the goats behind the ears, who clearly enjoyed her affection.
She hadn't seen Trálír for three days and was wondering why. Had something happened? Had he gotten into trouble at the castle for sneaking away for their meetings? Was he sick or had someone around him fallen ill that he couldn't leave? Or did he no longer want to see her?
This ignorance tugged at Anwyn's heart and saddened her deeply.
When she had finished her daily chores, she sat always on her campside and got lost in her thoughts. She was often silent for hours, simply staring ahead of her.
Her father noticed this too and frowned worriedly, but when he asked her if something was on her mind, Anwyn's answer was always a shake of the head, a faint smile and the words that he shouldn't worry about her.
He had no idea that she often thought of Trálír, that she missed him every minute he was not around. She longed for him, for his voice, his smile, the words he spoke to her.
And she yearned for his kisses, his touches, his closeness to her.
When fall had not yet begun, they had met every other day. Trálír arrived early in the morning and helped her with her daily chores. What was completely incomprehensible to Anwyn at first now felt like normality.
Sometimes Anwyn wondered if this was what a marriage felt like, to feel so comfortable in each other's presence.
They would talk for hours about their dreams, often laughing about the most nonsensical things and before their time together was over they would sink into each other's embrace, exchanging gentle or passionate kisses.
But it had never gone beyond kissing or cautiously exploring each other. Trálír had made no effort to go beyond gentle touches, although Anwyn had often sensed that it had taken him a lot of strength to hold back. She had noticed the tension in his shoulders when she had hugged him, his breathing had quickened when she gently caressed his cheek or lips with her fingers.
The last time they had met, they had found a sheltered corner in the forest and sunk down on the soft moss. Hungry kisses were exchanged, soft words whispered, their touches full of desire for each other.
Trálír leaned over Anwyn and slowly slid his knee between her legs, letting his weight settle on top of her.
His right leg pressed against her intimately and she could feel the bulge in his pants pressing against her hip.
Unconsciously, Anwyn pressed herself against his body and a moan escaped Trálír's shapely lips. Her heart beat up to her throat when she heard him and to her surprise, he suddenly straightened up. Trálír knelt between her thighs and breathed heavily. Anwyn looked at him worried.
"Have I done something wrong?" she asked uncertainly.
Trálír returned her gaze tenderly and shook his head. With his right hand, he gently gripped her chin and his thumb stroked her lower lip.
"Love, I have to slow down," he whispered. "I don't want to rush things. This, between us, this is supposed to be special, Anwyn."
He reached for her hands, pulled her close and then enveloped her in his arms. He kissed her tenderly on the forehead.
"I am not like the other elves who wander through the villages in the dark in search of physical satisfaction. I don't feel like exploiting the feelings of my counterpart for my physical desires. What I want is this."
His index finger slid from her lips over the delicate skin of her neck to the edge of her closed tunic. He stopped over her heart.
"This is what I want," Trálír whispered and looked deep into Anwyn's eyes. "Your heart, your soul. All that you are and feel."
Anwyn swallowed.
"I want you."
With a smile, she placed her hand on his cheek.
"Although I must admit that your body also has a special effect on me," Trálír admitted mischievously with a cheeky grin. „But unfortunately I have to leave you now, Anwyn. As much as I would like to stay.“
Anwyn smiled at his words and slowly straightened up with him. She leisurely ran her fingers through his silky long hair, which he wore loose, and kissed him tenderly in farewell. Hand in hand, they walked together to Arod who stood patiently by a nearby tree and before Trálír mounted, he took Anwyn's hands in his and pressed a gentle kiss on them and rode back towards the castle. Lost in thought, Anwyn walked back to the house.
And now she was standing here in the stable, handing the animals fresh hay and wondering why she hadn't seen or heard from him for three days.
Anwyn scratched Oksa's ears one last time, then turned away and left the stout. As she closed the door, the cold wind tugged at her again so she hurried back into the house.
She opened the door and entered the house. As the sky was covered with dark clouds, hardly any daylight entered their home through the windows.
It was so gloomy in the room that Anwyn decided to light the bowl that stood on the table and was filled with tran.
It was not yet cold enough to light the small open fire between the two campsites and burning the wood would be a waste of winter supplies. So the warm clothes they were wearing would have to do for now.
Anwyn turned towards her father when she heard him moving, groaning in pain.
Doran sat up, brushing back the dark gray hair that reached his shoulders. Tired, he rubbed his eyes with his hands.
"Good morning, Father," Anwyn greeted him with a warm smile. "How was your sleep?"
"Not long enough," he confessed to her and rose from the bed. The long shirt he was wearing fell down to his calves.
"How's the weather, child? Can I go out to sea, fishing?"
Anwyn shook her head. "No, it's storming. The waves are so high the boat would tip."
Doran sighed.
"How about you lie down again, Father? We won't be able to do much today."
"I have to go to the village, Anwyn. There are a few things I need to do before winter descends upon us."
"In this weather?" Anwyn asked, looking at him with disapproval in her eyes. "It wouldn't be an easy road for you. Let me take care of your business."
The old fisherman sank back onto the camp and there was gratitude in his gaze as he looked at his daughter.
*****
It was early in the morning and the sun had only risen a few minutes ago when Trálír walked down the grand staircase to enter the hall. To his surprise, his father was already sitting at the end of the large table that stood horizontally in front of the great throne. To the right and left, two more long tables faced each other while the great fire burned in the center. When it came to celebrations, it was possible to host hundreds of guests in it. And yet the hall felt far too small for him when he and his father were in the same room.
Tearlách took also a seat at the already laid table and greeted his older brother with a nod.
Trálír also nodded to his father and then sat down on the long wooden bench.
He looked at Tearlách, who was sitting at the table with a grim expression on his face, his head resting boredly on his hand; he certainly had better things on his mind than having to join his father for breakfast.
Trálír pressed his lips together as he suspected something bad. Without saying a word, he reached for the bread and cut himself a slice.
"What are your plans for today, my son?"
"I'm going hunting," Trálír replied without lifting his eyes as he heard the words his father spoke. He reached for the butter and caught his brother's gaze, who rolled his eyes in exasperation as he guessed where the conversation with the patriarch would lead - nowhere good.
"In this weather?" he asked in a grumpy voice. Trálír scrutinized him and saw the clear disapproval in his gaze.
"I hardly think a deer will run in front of your bow in this storm."
"I know the forest well enough to know where to find something," Trálír replied and his father looked at him in annoyance, for he had heard the defiant tone in his son's voice all too clearly.
Tearlách couldn't help an obvious chuckle.
"You hunt a lot, Trálír."
"The castle is large and we have many people who depend on us," his son replied with a shrug and took a bite of bread.
Trálír, the elder, leaned forward and rested his chin on his clasped hands. There was suspicion in his voice.
"They're servants," Trálír, the Elder, replied, waving his hand in disinterest. "They are humans, half elves, none of them need meat on the table every day."
"But the elven soldiers of this castle deserve to have meat on their plates? I don't think I agree with you on this one," said his son, looking directly at him and giving his father a displeased look in return. Out of the corner of his eye, Trálír noticed Tearlách leaning forward with an amused grin. It seemed to him as if his younger brother was watching the debate between them as closely as he was watching a drama on the stages of Baldur's Gate.
"A ruler cares for all his subjects, not just those of his own race."
Trálír watched as his father leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms in front of his chest. The dark red velvet tunic stretched across his broad upper body and muscular arms.
"You are no ruler," the older elf said slowly, emphasizing each word individually.
"I am well aware of that, father. You remind me of this often enough," Trálír replied and took a sip of water from a crystal glass that stood next to his plate.
An awkward silence fell between father and son.
Trálír looked at his younger brother Tearlách, in whose gaze he surprisingly perceived a kind of admiration.
In the silence of the great hall, only the clink of cutlery could be heard as his father turned to him again and said in a quietly menacing voice: "They say that hunting is not the reason why you leave the castle so often."
Unconsciously, Trálír's grip on the knife he held tightened. Tearlách saw his shoulders tense and his gaze darken. When it crossed with his brother's, he shrugged and shook his head slowly, signaling that he was not the source of this rumor.
"And what is the purpose, father?" Trálír asked with tension in his voice. "I'm sure you're about to tell me."
"A woman," replied the ruler of Blackwater Bay. "A human woman."
The disgust in his words made Trálír flinch unconsciously. Nevertheless, he remained silent.
"They say you would share the camp with a human woman," his father spat out and Trálír raised his eyes, looking directly at him.
"Sharing the camp? It's sex, father," he replied in a cool voice. "Sex. It is something you should be quite familiar with, for you too have shared many a night with human women. Why shouldn't I be allowed the same pleasure?"
And as he spoke these words, Trálir remembered how, as a young elf, he had often seen human women stumbling out of his father's chamber. The look in their eyes was distraught, their cheeks wet with tears.
"One speaks of love."
Trálír raised a dark eyebrow. "Well, is that so? Amazing that some people know more about my emotional life than I do."
"Oh dear Father, you shouldn't believe those stupid rumors," Tearlách said and Trálír looked at his younger brother in surprise. „Of course the inhabitants of the castle secretly whisper rumors to each other. Love? As if it were about love," he scoffed. "It's no secret that we elves love to indulge our desires in dark alleys. Many a human woman is more open to certain preferences than the odd elf lady. It's easy to get between their thighs, they're like fair game. A few romantic words, that's all it takes.Trálír seems to have found someone who matches his preferences. Why shouldn't he take advantage of that? And why shouldn't we grant him this pleasure?"
Tearlách raised his glass and toasted his brother with a grin. "So let him have his fun. As he said, this is purely about satisfying his physical appetites."
Trálír, the older one, frowned.
"Be that as it may," Trálír said and straightened up. "I think that settles that matter. I'm going hunting now." He climbed over the bench, nodded to his father and gave his brother a grateful look before leaving the great hall without another word.
Tearlách returned this with a generous smile and then turned back to the breakfast that still stood before him.
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♥️