Selie

He went again to the shore of the Inland Sea.

He was ever drawn there when his soul was aching. He could find a moment’s comfort in the sounds of the waves slapping the wet sand and the gulls protesting his intrusion.

The air was chill for the sun sets fast in this season. He walked alone, his mind not there, but far away. After a while he came to an old gnarled tree trunk, washed high up on the beach at the foot of the pine woods. The storm that placed it there must have been monumental. He sat, and simply stared out over the darkening waves. The overcast sky was tinted faintly pink from the sun which set behind him.

He closed his eyes for a moment…and when he opened them she was there, as if come from the Sea it’s self. She was tall, for a woman. She was wearing a long hooded cloak that reached to her feet. He watched her move towards him, too startled to say anything. She sat next to him without a word. He continued to look at her, and she slowly turned and studied him from within the folds of her hood.

After a moment she reached out…a finger lightly tracing the line of his jaw. “You had a beard then.” Touching his cheek, now. “And a scar, just here.” His eyes were puzzled…for he’d never seen her before, and certainly never worn a beard. Nor had a scar in that place.

And then she touched his forehead. For a moment the world went out of focus…the colors all changed. And when it came back…the sun was high in the sky. There was a boat off the shore…with men rowing and dressed as if they were from another age.

He stood and looked down at himself. Knee high soft leather boots. Leggings and a tunic, belted with a sword. And he remembered who he is…or was.

Seamus MacRodri. Swordsman and sworn retainer to Lord Donal. And she his liege lord’s lady…Rhiannon.

And at the throat of her cloak…a dragon brooch. To show she is of the blood of the Ar Dri…the High Kings. For she was a princess by birth, and once married to a royal son. But he had succumbed to a fever three summers past. As a royal daughter she would marry where given.

Lord Donal…twice widowed…was a valued ally with fertile lands and the duties on a busy harbor. With such wealth he could buy hired swords like Seamus. And a beautiful Lady like Rhiannon.

She stood and extended her hand. Seamus bent over and touched his lips to it, chastely. “How may I serve my lady?” She looked at him coolly. “Follow me…and I will tell you.”

She led him from the shore then, and into the woods. After a time they came to a crofters hut and she pushed aside the skins over the doorway. A bright fire burned in the hearth and the rushes on the floor were fresh and scented with herbs.

He cocked his head and smiled. “An unusually tidy place for such a poor person” he said. “Almost as if a highborn guest was expected.”

“Indeed…it is the home of the father of one of my personal servants. When I need to be… alone?…I can come here for a time and it is prepared for me.”

“Ahhh…well if it’s alone you are needing to be, I’ll take my leave.” He started towards the door, but her raised hand stopped him.

“Wait, gallowglass. I wish your company for a moment. You may be able to serve me.”

“As Lord Donal’s sworn man, I am always at your service, Lady. But I’m a just gallowglass, as you said. Not a gentleman of his household.”

She turned and faced the fire. Throwing back the hood of her cloak she shook loose her long auburn hair. She looked at him over her shoulder with eyes green as any cat’s. Her look was cool and appraising.

Closing her eyes, she spoke. “My husband needs an heir to continue his line. So far I have been unable to give him one. His advisors are urging him to find another wife, even younger than myself. If he does, then I will be discarded again. I tire of being sold off to the highest bidder to suit my father’s political needs. I need to give him an heir…but I know none will come from him.”

A raised eyebrow. “And again…would not a gentleman of the household, one of Donal’s clansmen serve your…need? They say you are a sorceress. Surely you could cast your spell over one of them and find that which Lord Donal…lacks?”

A long sigh. “Indeed I could. But Donal is no longer a young man. Should he die before the fruit of such a union had come of age, such a gentleman would use the child to usurp the power. No. I need a man I can trust. One who will guard the young lordling. Teach him to fight and to protect his inheritance. An experienced warrior like you.”

A tight smile. “And one of such low birth that he could never pretend to take Lord Donal’s place, true?”

Nodding. “Yes…that as well.”

“But why me? Surely there are more suitable?’

“ Because you, of all the men who pass through the household have never looked at me with that hunger that others do. Always your look was respectful. Respectful of me, not just my husband’s power.”

His face grew hard. “A gallowglass has nothing but his sword and his oath of loyalty. No land. No family. No clan to protect him. Just his oath to his lord and his lord’s duty to shelter and feed him. You would have me toss that aside for what?”

Turning towards him, she undid the Dragon brooch. The cloak slid down, revealing nothing but ivory flesh beneath. Smooth skin. Firm breasts with hard brown nipples. Wide hips.

“Is this not enough for you, swordsman? Am I not sufficient temptation to break your oath?”

Walking to her, he stood close, but not touching. He looked not at her body, but into her eyes. “Ahhh woman, the priest will have me on my knees for a year after I confess this. And a soldier dare not go into battle with such a sin on his soul.”

“If the priest wants his cup filled with my silver, he will do as I tell him, gallowglass.”

“And if no fruit is borne from this? What then Lady? Will it not be inconvenient to have some gallowglass capable of betraying you?” She stepped closer, her body just touching him. Reaching up, she cupped his face in her hands. “As you say, I am a sorceress. I know that a child will come of this. A male child. And I know that you would never betray the mother of your son.” And she drew his face down and kissed him.

He wrapped his arms around her, melting to her touch. His lips returned her kisses. His hands lightly caressed her skin. As her kisses grew hotter, his touch became more urgent. His lips moved to her neck, then her shoulders, and then her throat. His kisses alternated with soft bites and low animal growls in response to her own touches through his clothes.

He picked her up and carried her to the pile of furs in front of the fire. Setting her down, he rose and kicked off his boots. As he pulled his tunic over his head she knelt before him and removed his rough leggings. He stood naked before her, his phallus standing out hard at her eye level. Wrapping a soft hand around it, she started to stroke the shaft and lightly lick at the tip of the head as it emerged from the foreskin.

He groaned in response. “Jesu, Lady, I never thought a princess would…”

“Hush, gallowglass. Highborn or wench, every woman wants what a man has to give her.” With that her mouth engulfed the head and her hands grasped his hips pulling him to her as she took him deep into her mouth. As her mouth worked its spell on him, he started to breath more quickly…a soft tremor shook him.

She backed away. “Nay, my lord. For I need that sword of yours where it will do the most good.” And she lay back on the furs, her legs spread wide with a look of desire…and queenly power…in her blazing green eyes.

Kneeling between her legs, he leaned towards her, letting the tip of his head just touch the wet lips between her legs. He felt her hips move…trying to urge him on. But for a moment he needed to show her it was his choice, not hers. This sword was at no one’s command but his own. He lightly played it along her lips. He pressed a little in, then drew away. He rubbed it softly against the engorged jewel above her flower.

She moaned in frustration. She needed him. She wanted him. Not just for the child he would father. For the pleasure that the man who bought her could not give. “Please…please take me. Now please.” Her voice held no regal tone. She was begging as a woman.

At that, he slid himself into her. She was so wet he slid in without resistance. He filled her and stretched her. He buried his hard shaft inside, grabbing her hips to pull himself as deep inside as he could go. Stopping for a moment, he looked down into her wide green eyes. Her mouth was slightly open, her cheeks flushed. And again that soft cry, rising in need. “Please…please…now my lord, NOW!”

He started moving his hips, sliding in and out of her wet opening. He could feel her move in response. The muscles inside her gripped and released as he moved faster and faster inside her. He felt the heat rise within him. That final tightness inside just before the burning explosion of his seed in to her waiting body. As he released, he moaned, and heard her own moan in response, and felt her own hot release. He collapsed into her arms.

After a moment or two, he moved beside her. They both lay on their backs, catching their breath, the sweat cooling upon their skins. Raising himself up on one elbow, he looked at her in the firelight. Tracing a callused finger over nipples, he noticed something between her breasts. It was a tattoo. The High Dragon. And her own fingers traced lines on his arms, following the tattoos there, the Wolfhounds chasing each other.

He grinned. “You marked with the Dragon of Royals, I with the Hounds of War. Appropriate, isn’t it.?” She smiled in response.

“Tell me, gallowglass, why have you no woman of your own? Was there never one that you loved?”

“Yes…once. But that was long ago. And I loved her too much. Too much to make her a soldier’s woman. What sort of life is that…no home…a camp follower? No, I let her go. By now I’m sure she’s some fat farmer’s wife with a brood of brats at her feet.”

“But you still love her?”

“Aye, my Lady…always.”

“If she’s free, gallowglass, go and fetch her. For now you will have a home. I will appoint you captain of the guards. And when Lord Donal meets his reward, you will be my marshall, protector of my son’s interests in all things.”

She leaned close to him and kissed him gently. “We must go now swordsman, before someone suspects where you have been practicing your swordplay. But know this, Seamus MacRodri, I’ll be jealous of that lass you bring here. For she’ll have a swordsman of great talent to serve her off the battlefield, as he will serve me on it.”

Dressing hastily, they left, walking casually back towards the sea. Reaching the tree trunk where she found him, he again bowed over her hand, kissing it lightly. She drew away, turning towards the sea. As she did, the light once again faded. It was late twilight now. The boatmen were gone. And she seemed to walk in to the Sea.

And once again he was clad in jeans and sweatshirt…and that aching was once again in his soul. He knew then who she was.

"The seas around Orkney and Shetland harbor the shy Selkies or Seal-Faeries (known as the Roane in Ireland). A female Selkie is able to discard her seal skin and come ashore as a beautiful maiden. If a human can capture His skin, the selkie can be forced to become a fine, if wistful, wife. However, should she ever find her skin she immediately returns to the sea, leaving the husband to pine and die. " -- Brian Froud and Alan Lee, "Faeries"