Peridur and Eleanor

The Gods Make a Wager

When she opened her eyes in the other world, Eleanor immediately went to work, listening for the drums that were the key to moving forward through the realm of shadows. "That way," she gestured and the Soulbound's quest began once more.

After some time trudging through the bleak landscape, Eleanor felt her spirit beginning to flag. "Tell me a story, Peridur," she said, rubbing the collected grime of the shadow realm off her cheek. "A story of the orcs, for I know so little about them."

"Gladly," he replied and began searching his encyclopedic mind for something appropriately uplifting for the occasion.

As Peridur began to speak, Eleanor split her attention between his voice and the drums calling her onward. In the space between these two realities, she watched her Soulbound's words come to life.

"When the world was new, fires burned in the earth, fires so hot the earth itself began to melt and move, and rivers of rock fought with the ocean. All was engulfed in steam or flame, and the elder race survived only by powerful craft that has since been forgotten.

In that age, the orcs were born of the passion between two of the great forces of the universe, though none of us knew at the time that it was so.This is how we learned.

The greatest hunter of that age, or any since, was Aelthic, swift of foot and quick with either bow or sword. One day, he set out to hunt the great auroch, a horned god of the ancient world, but to make a sport of it, he took only his knife. For a week, he hunted the beast through fell and fen and forest. It was crafty to have lived so long, but there was never a beast alive, godling or not, who could allude Aelthic forever.

Spying the majestic rack as the auroch charged him from the brush to his right, Aelthic spun and jumped to avoid instant evisceration. Quickly, he recovered his poise and took off in chase. The auroch was fast, but no match for elvish stamina. Still, they ran for a day and a night and another day until the auroch could go no more. In a small glen, the beast made his final stand- turning to face his doom as his fierce eyes bore down on Aelthic. The king of the wood would run no more but fight and die where he stood.

Great was the clamber in dell where they fought. The auroch gave a mighty bellow, but Aelthic screamed back his own defiance. For every nick he made in the beast, it scored one on him. Several times the elf was nearly trampled under hoof and the auroch avoided having his throat cut."

"I didn't realize I've heard parts of this story until you got to the fight in the woods," Eleanor interrupted. "Shall I pick up the thread?"

Peridur looked at his Soulbound in some surprise. "You know the story?"

She nodded. "I've spoken to numerous fish about the events surrounding the time when the oceans mingled with the rivers of heated rock. Hear the forgotten wisdom that comes from beneath the sea, my love."

"The epic struggle in the dell between the great hunter and the crafty, patriarch auroch was so mammoth in its scope, that it drew the attention of the gods themselves who then, as now, like to wager on the outcome of mortal affairs.

Not that the ending seemed to be in doubt as the majority of the pantheon wagered heavily on a win for Aelthic the mighty, a favored mortal of the god of Dream. But there were two notable holdouts- the goddess of love and the god of war, who placed their markers on the side of the horned beast against all odds.

Though mocked for their choice, the deities didn't bother to explain their decision. Love and War, already known for their capricious natures, gazed silently into each others' eyes as the deadly contest continued on in the world below.

The mysterious god of the dream realm, who was rumored to be a progenitor of Aelthic's family, ruled the nighttime visions with an iron fist and was miserly in their distribution. Even then, at the dawn of all things, the power in a dream was known and feared in some circles, while lusted after in others. The god of dream knew this and so jealously guarded his authority and purview, barricading all potential dreams as they blossomed from the raw fabric of chaos within his fortress deep beneath the ground.

Only a great sacrifice could convince the god to release a dream, and even then, he did so grudgingly.

"Why did the god hoard dreams?" Peridur asked.

Eleanor shrugged as she continued onward, following the ghostly drums of the shadow realm. "The fish didn't say."

"That's a shame," Peridur shook his head. 'That particular detail was missing from the Etharch's book on the subject as well and I was hoping it had been preserved in the oral tradition of the seas."

"I suppose we can't rely on oral tradition for the missing details from history, can we?" Eleanor grinned mischievously. "Though I think to discount oral tradition entirely would be a loss for all the world's races, not only the elves."

"It's not that I think oral traditions don't contain some kernel of truth," Peridur countered. "But how would one extract the truth from the fiction? Oral traditions are shaped and molded for use by the ones who tell them."

"Haven't we had this conversation before?" Eleanor asked. "It all sounds so familiar to me, like the echo of a dream remembered in the waking hours."

"Speaking of dreams," Peridur said. "It is time to finish this story properly."

"Now just a minute," said Eleanor, climbing yet another hill in the barren wasteland that was the realm of shadows. "Define properly."

"Properly," Peridur replied, eyeing his Soulbound's rounded backside as she labored up the path in front of him. "Completely, in an appropriate manner for the situation."

"Is there such a thing as a way for adventurers to 'properly' tell a story when wandering through a spirit realm?" Eleanor wondered, pausing for a moment to catch her breath.

"My dear," Peridur said. "There is a proper way for everything. Even in the matters of gambling between the gods."

"It is customary, when placing a wager, to be forthright about what is on the table so its value may be easily calculated and countered by the other side.

Love and War, wrapped in each other's embrace, cast their lots together. Though the goddess of love was married to the immortal blacksmith who, since the dawn of time, forged the mighty weapons used in battle, she found herself drawn again and again throughout time to the bed of the god of War, who was the master of every conflict. That they were passionate lovers was unquestioned by all and the games they played together had raised eyebrows more than once throughout the millennia.

Today was an obvious continuation of their pleasure-filled struggle with each other.

'If we lose this contest,' the god of war declared, smashing his mailed fist to the table. 'The goddess of love and I will spawn a new race to join the existent lifeforms upon the mortal world. They will be the best and the worst that we two have to offer and the world will tremble in their passage.'"

This wager was of little interest to the assembly compared to what came next, though, in comparison, both were to have long-lasting impacts, far beyond a simple entertainment.

The god of dream laid his control of mortal's dreams on the table with the promise to relinquish his authority forever if the elf lost the fight with the aurochs."

"That's just silly," Eleanor interrupted.

Peridur sighed. "There's not much more to it. Shall we finish the tale some other time?"

"Don't stop now that we're so close to the end," she said. "But I have to ask, why would a god risk losing such power for a simple bet?"

"Immortality is a curse," Peridur said. "For the unimaginative."

"But for a god who had all of the dreams of the world at his disposal," Eleanor mused. "Even so, he could have lost it all in a moment of boredom?" She shook her head in amazement at the actions of the immortals. "I suppose the contest ended with the easy triumph of Aelthic?"

"Hardly easy," Peridur said. "The final fight following the days-long chase between the auroch and the elf lasted another full day and a night. Finally, the unfortunate creature stumbled on a loose rock in a stream and Aelthic used the moment to cut his throat. But he didn't walk away unscathed, the warrior took many wounds of his own before he ended the forest god. " He paused a moment in contemplation. "Come to think of it, perhaps it was Aelthic whom Nym the healer remembered helping."

"I know she's aged, but how could an elf possibly live that long on Arda without succumbing to the depths of her grief?" Eleanor asked, then she stopped and sat crossed-legged in the middle of the dusty path of the realm of shadows. "Speaking of grief, my love, I am weary. Can we pause for a moment of restorative meditation?"

Peridur joined his Soulbound on the ground. "How restorative did you have in mind?" he asked, taking her hand and pressing his lips to her palm.

"I want to know how Love and War created the orcs together after losing the wager on Aelthic and the aurochs," she said. "Do you have any ideas that you could show me? From a historical perspective that is."

"We're in the spirit realm, love," Peridur replied. "It can be as historically accurate as we can dream it."

The Creation of the Orcs

The grey of the land around the Soulbound began to change, shimmering with the colors of a dream realm that Peridur was spinning from his imagination. For the shadow realm, as all elves know, sits alongside the borders of another of the great spirit realms, the land of dream.

As the rainbow colors shifted and changed, altering the fabric of reality, a great power of the shadow realm woke for the first time in millenia. And it became aware that there were intruders within its domain.

Unaware of the power he had awakened, Peridur created a new appearance from the energy around him. His travelling robes melted away whilst his chest, arms and legs grew in size to display knotted muscles. His usually fair complexion darkened until it was ebony. Atop his head, the hair melted away to reveal a bald palate under which piercing red eyes bore down on Eleanor from a ruggedly handsome face. But most striking, or scary, of all was the enormous slab of meat between his thighs, which even flaccid reached halfway to his knees. A maroon knob peaked out from a generous foreskin at its end.

"The God of War will have his way with you now," Peridur said with a deep bass tone that seemed to vibrate through the air and down into Eleanor's most sensitive cleft, which immediately became moist.

Eleanor moved as if in a trance until she stood before him, gazing up into his face which now towered above her. She seemed paralyzed by the god's visage, but reaching out an arm, he firmly pressed down on her shoulder until she had no choice but to fall to her knees before him.

"You will try," she murmured as her own body began to change, assuming a mantle of power that belonged to another force of the universe.

"It is customary for mortals to worship us," he said with disdain.

"I am no mortal," she declared. The musk of his sex in her face was powerful like a wild animal. Eleanor thought at first she would gag, but instead, the odor made her body respond viscerally. A throbbing wetness began between her thighs.

Both of her hands were needed to raise the thick shaft to her mouth. Out flicked her tongue, tasting the saltiness of his foreskin and then pressing her lips to it. Her hands skinned it back so the head could fill her mouth. The taste was like the smell, animalistic but triggering some primal need coded deep in her unconscious mind.

As her mouth worked, the shaft grew and hardened beneath her ministrations. In a similar manner, her sex grew warmer and her clit came to attention. When the god started to leak a steady stream of nectar onto her tongue, her sex likewise began to leak down her leg. It was a new sensation for her and tickled the inside of her thigh.

"I understand you wish to know how the Goddess and I created a new race. Is that so?"

There was no way Eleanor could speak, but instead she quickened the motion of her tongue by way of encouraging him.

Again his hand was upon her shoulder, but this time raising her. In some fashion she did not understand, the glade they had been walking in had been replaced by a room which appeared to be part of a large castle. At one end, a roaring fire burned, at the other, it was open to a wide vista of mountains. Between these, the decorations and trophies of the god of war were displayed upon the walls. In the middle of the room, like the stage in an ancient theatre, stood a massive bed covered with many throws and pillows of all colours.

The god's hand took hold of her karagouna. When did she put that on? It was lovely and elaborately decorated, but with a quick yank the god ripped it from her body.

As Eleanor's consciousness had changed, so too had her body- her breasts had become so large they wobbled from side to side as the dress came away. Long blonde tresses covered the tops of them, down to the hard pink areolae. Her body had plumped up and softened, especially the full hips she now felt with her hands, seeking to explore this miraculous transformation.

The god gave no time for that. Impatiently, he carried her to the bed where she was roughly thrown down, but saved from injury by the soft cushions.

"Submit to your god!" he demanded.

An irresistible feeling of desire was building within Eleanor, an ache that found its answer in the embodiment of the god. She captured that feeling with her mind and pushed it out through her heart, towards the avatar of war. The moment this power reached her lover, it had a visible effect on him.

His erection, which had been impressive, reached a new peak and an answering desire ignited in the god of war's eyes. His need would not be denied, but Eleanor was inclined to give him whatever he wished, submitting herself to him.

She turned to lie on her stomach, finding a spot in the middle of the bed, knowing through their connection what was expected of her. Eleanor trembled in the knowledge that the god would not be denied his prize, but would take what he wanted, as he did in all things.

Pressing her knees into the bed, she rose up on all four limbs and turned to present her sex to the god. Like the rest of her body, it felt sensitive and vulnerable.

As the god climbed up behind her, she felt his massive hands grab her hips and pull her back until the tip of his cock was at her entrance. Slowly it pressed in, like a welcome invader, persistent against the resistance her vagina offered and not to be denied. When it had come up against her cervix, the fit was so tight she could feel the veins of it throbbing inside her. But the god had more to press into her, and by some magic, her cervix flexed and opened. The god continued to press, entering a new mystical place inside, something beyond the knowledge of mere mortals.

At last, his body came to rest against her hips. He was fully embedded in her and she knew he would not leave until his conquest was completed.

Hands pressed down between her shoulders and she was forced to lower her upper body until her face was crushed against the bed and her hips rose high in the air, angled for deepest penetration. The god's deliberate strokes seemed to pull her inside out on the outward journey, but then her sex sucked the god's essence back in until it was once more lodged in that mystical chamber deep in her belly. With each movement, she became less of herself and more of a "them."

The pleasure was beyond belief. "How did the gods ever stop enjoying this oneness?" she thought. Primal creation must be the highest level of sensual fulfilment any being could achieve.

Behind her, the god rutted like an animal, growling deep in his throat. There was no finesse in him, only a need to take and claim her as his own. Her body submitted to the assault by opening itself fully and leaking a steady stream of lubricant, proof of the pleasure she was taking from his actions.

His movements grew in urgency until the sound of him slapping against her was like the sound of a battering ram at the gate. His breathing grew ragged and she orgasmed in anticipation of the god's pleasure as his hips trembled in the beginnings of his own release. Her vagina clasped him in a vice, and unable to withdraw, he spewed forth his seed into the sacred place they had built together.

Each wave she could feel, at first like a delicious pressure inside her, but then transforming into something else that sent electric shocks of warmth in waves from her womb to every corner of her being. This power, the pleasure the two had shared, was then collected up again in her womb.

His withdrawal left her feeling vulnerable and open like a void. But not for long. Something grew from the space the god and his need had left in her, drawing life force energy steadily from her to create a life of its own.

Reveling in these mysterious feelings, the goddess rolled over onto her back. Finished with her, the god moved away. He was not the type to cuddle and she was not the type to beg.

Neither was she in the mood. For deep within her, in a quickening mass, she perceived not one but many new lives, the fulfillment of their pledge before the other great powers of the universe. As these new lives formed and grew so did her belly, which distended in a way no mortal could survive, but she was a goddess and about to birth a new race upon the earth.

It was not long before the desire to release their new creations was upon her. This birth was not painful, but an experience of insistent and increasing pleasure, much like the desire she had absorbed from the god.

Waves shook her body, and she drew back her legs as far as she could. With another soul-moving orgasm, the first of the orcish race came screaming into the world, full of the emotion that the god had imparted to her in his rough handling and the pleasure she had taken in it. Then another and another came forth, and finding each other, fell at once into a battle to claim the milk which had gathered in her breasts.

"Behold, God of War," the goddess said. "I give you, your children. Take them and find a wet nurse, for I have now fulfilled my promise."

Looking at his children, the god smiled for the first time and they answered him with the battlecries of a new race, born of war and passion, and a mystical combination of the two.