Storm and Stone

Amevina awoke to find herself alone on the bedroll. When she sat up and looked around, she found him sat against a tentpole in his jeans, with a lantern overhead. He had drawn his knees up and used them as a table for his sketchbook, and scribbled madly across a page. She rose to her feet and when she stretched, Arawn looked up and smiled at her nude form in the dim light of his lamp. He watched every movement of her lithe form as she dressed and committed several images to memory for the near future. Amevina sauntered over and seated herself against his side so she could peer at his pad. A broad smile graced her lips as she saw the scene on the page; he had drawn her as she lay curled on her side asleep.

Arawn added some final touches to the shading and passed her the book, "Here you go. When you're done with that one, there's more toward the front. I've been awake a while. You looked so beautiful and peaceful that it just felt wrong to wake you."

She smiled and kissed his cheek, "How sweet." Amevina turned her attention back to the book and examined his work. Her eyes followed the contours of her legs, one straight and the other drawn halfway to her chest as she rested on her right side. The blanket was mostly bundled at her waist and her bent left leg was uncovered below the knee. Her left arm draped over the blanket at the top and the hand clutched the hem of the blanket close to her chin. She was impressed by the amount of detail he included. He used the color of the paper to great effect where he needed to show the light as it illuminated her features. He even captured the contrast of her ashen pink lips against her jet black skin.

The next page left her breathless and set a flame burning within her as she remembered the night before and something finally made sense. Her suspicions were confirmed when she turned to another page and found more of the same. The pair had not made love the previous night, but they had kissed and explored each other before they fell asleep. He had explored

her

rather, in quite spectacular fashion.

*********

It had started innocently enough when she insisted they sleep naked. Arawn muttered something about only being human, then took her into his arms and kissed her. He lay her back and they exchanged kisses for a time while he traced his fingertips over every part of her body that he could reach and still remain attached to her lips. She became curious when he kissed his way down her chest and stomach. Amevina watched the gooseflesh erupt across her skin in the wake of his lips as he made his way down to her thighs. Elves were known to be a passionate lot but this human was burning her alive with his touch. Amevina gasped when he started to work his way up the inside of each thigh with slow, suckling kisses. She let out a surprised squeak when her legs were hoisted onto his shoulders.

"Arawn! What are you doing?"

He shook his head and grinned, "Not telling. Just lie back and enjoy."

"But..."

"No buts," he interrupted. "Now lie back and shush or I'll make you wait for this surprise till our honeymoon."

Her next protest died on her lips when he returned to his work and she felt a soft kiss brush across her swollen petals. After a few more kisses, she shivered at the touch of his warm breath on her folds. Arawn pressed his flattened tongue at the base of those petals and dragged it slowly to the top. She tasted of fresh honey and carried a floral aroma he could not quite identify. He smiled with satisfaction when she rewarded him with an impassioned whimper and continued his tender ministrations. The elf panted and groaned now as he continued with those firm strokes of his tongue. Her hands clawed at the bedroll and she yelped in surprise when he chose to punctuate one of those teasing licks with a flick across her most sensitive spot with the tip of his tongue. From there, she found herself forced to abandon her attention to his actions when she devolved into a mess of twitches, groans, and cries of pleasure...

*********

Amevina was drawn back to the here and now by the gentle sound of her lover's voice.

"Amevina... Hey baby, you still with me?"

She blinked a few times, then laughed.

"Yes, I apologize. I was remembering last night," she would have blushed if her coloration allowed it, "now I understand why you kept alternating from your tongue to your fingers every time I was close to reaching my peak. You were watching me when it happened."

Arawn pulled her close and placed a few gentle kisses on the side of her neck.

"Couldn't help it. You are stunning any measure, but with that look of rapture..." he trailed off as he turned the pages to another scene that he had drawn from his point of view. Her back was arched and every muscle in her body was taut. Her eyes were wide with shock from the force of her orgasm and her mouth was frozen in a silent scream of passion. Arawn pointed to the drawing.

"See that woman right there? She's not just stunning, she's a

goddess

when she feels like that

.

Just look at the beauty in how everything about her: the tension in her muscles, her pose, the ecstasy painted on her face... it all just screams raw femininity. Every woman deserves that gift from her man. I had the privilege of capturing that gift on paper for mine," he finished.

She was about to throw him down and have her way with him when there was a knock at the door-pole of the tent and a squeaky voice called out, "Beg pardon, may I come in?"

"Just a moment," she called back.

Amevina quickly stood and donned her gown from yesterday. She opened the cloth door of the tent to find the tiny gnome that shared their cage. He peered up at her through his glasses with his owlish gaze and gasped, then quickly bowed. His flat-cap almost fell from his bald head.

"L... Lady Amevina, Captain Grokan says he wants to see Lord Arawn and yourself in the command tent, there's been a change of plans. He also said to tell you that M'lord has a visitor."

Arawn was on his feet the moment the words left the gnome's mouth and joined the pair at the door of the tent. The human stood almost twice the height of the diminutive humanoid. He offered the gnome a friendly smile and extended his hand.

"Good morning, Lorup. You're looking a lot better this morning. Seems a good night's sleep did you well. Glad to see it."

The little gnome gave him a nervous grin and shook Arawn's hand.

"Thank you, Lord Arawn. You're too kind."

During the exchange, Arawn took note of the gnome's appearance. The contents of his tool belt: a primitive caliper, a set of wrenches, and several forceps of varying size and shape stood out to him. When coupled with the gnome's multi-pocketed, grease-stained, brown leather vest and the fact that he smelled of machine oil, Arawn had a reasonably good idea of what this gentleman did with his time.

"It's not kindness to believe that a gentle soul does not deserve abuse and find joy in its well-being, my friend. It is what is right and just." he told the little man. "You know, on my world, a man with those particular tools might be mistaken for an inventor. I'll bet you tinker with all sorts of contraptions, don't you?"

Lorup's eyes went so wide in his glasses that Arawn feared they might leap from their sockets and take the lenses with them.

"Tha... that's right sir! How did you know?"

Arawn crouched before the small man and lifted the caliper from Lorup's tool belt, "Because I know what this is, my tiny friend. I used a caliper not too different from this one to keep the measurements uniform when I built miniature dioramas as a hobby back on my world. It was made to measure much smaller objects. We call the small ones like mine, micrometers. What do you make with these tools, Lorup?"

"Well sir," he answered, but Arawn cut him off.

"Sorry to interrupt, but please call me Arawn. All this lord, m'lord, and sir stuff is making me uncomfortable. I don't have an ounce of noble blood in me."

"I'll try sir... um, Arawn. It might be a bit difficult in polite company, though. You see, your betrothed is the Lady Amevina Auvrile'autur, Storm Queen of Lakehome and one of the defenders of the Northern Oaks. Under elven law, that makes you one of the Wardens of the Forest alongside Her Ladyship, Lord Vorsah, and others," Lorup explained.

Arawn glanced up at a chagrined Amevina. While not angry, the look he gave her promised extensive future conversations on the subject. He returned his attention to the gnome.

"I see. Huh... anyway, where were we? Oh, your occupation."

"Well, I design things si... I design things. For example, I created the triple-impeller octopus pump for Lakehome's irrigation system, but mostly I just repair stuff like mill cogs and whatnot. I tried once to build a milking machine, but... let's just say it didn't turn out too well for the cow. The healer wasn't too happy with me for quite some time after that. These days I tinker with chronometers, but I can't seem to get the gears to synchronize properly. You gotta keep resetting them every day when the sundial hits midday. Pretty things, though. I trade work with a jeweler," he rambled.

Arawn suddenly had an idea for the perfect gift

"That's pretty cool, Lorup. Clocks and watches, that's what we call them on Earth. They always fascinated me, too but I never had the mechanical inclination to try and make them. I do admire their intricacy, though. I think I may still have a few books on how they're made. My buddy, Ethan, gave me a few electronic copies for my phone. Tell you what, if they are still on there I'll find a way to get you a copy of them if I have to write it by hand myself. We'll talk about that later. I need to get to this meeting and see what's up."

The man and his elf maiden left a very excited gnome behind.

*********

The pair arrived at the command tent to find Captain Grok in the middle of a heated discussion with an orc that Arawn could not remember from yesterday. He wore armor identically styled to Grok's, though it was a bit less ornate.

Perhaps he's a subordinate officer,

Rawn considered. He noted that this new orc was shorter, but just as stout of build as Grok.

"I'm telling you, cousin! We cannot afford to wait much longer. If the Vaszul have grown bold enough to launch attacks like this, invasion is inevitable and I promise you it will be soon," the newcomer declared as he thumped the table with his fist for emphasis.

"Still your passions, Dakkrig." Grok was surprisingly calm in the face of his fellow captain's forcefulness, but his voice carried authority despite his tone. "The time will come soon enough. We must first learn what we can from this incursion before we attempt to launch a response. To overlook intelligence gathering would be foolish at this stage. What I am about to say, I tell you only because you will be leading forces there when the day comes: Dakkrig, my cousin... my friend, the Vaszul have already blocked Ebon Shard Pass. You

will

have your day of retribution, you have my word. The information we glean from the survivors and their captors, here and now, may well prove critical to surviving the coming conflict. Can you control yourself till then, Captain Dakkrig? Can... I... count... on... you?" Grok thumped the table with each word of his final question; his answer to Dakkrig's challenge.

The, now obviously less senior orc immediately stood to attention, clapped a fist to his chest, then slapped it straight down against his side... an orcish salute.

"On my honor, Captain!"

Grok smiled, "At ease, Captain Dakkrig."

Dakkrig relaxed and his eyes drifted to the door. His brows raised in surprise at the strangely dressed human who stood next to the Lady Amevina, who he recognized.

"Sir, we have company."

Grok gave a light chuckle at Dakkrig's reaction and motioned the pair in.

"You already know the Lady Amevina, but her betrothed is a newfound ally. Cousin, allow me to introduce you to Arawn Stonebrook, of the world called Earth. Arawn, this is my cousin and fellow Captain, Dakkrig tag-Gurogg nug-Shabrat."

Rawn gaped at Dakkrig when he saluted and dropped to one knee in a bow with his eyes cast down at their feet.

"My Lord Arawn, it is an honor to meet you. Lady Amevina, a pleasure as always."

Meanwhile, Rawn palmed his face and groaned, "Amevina, what is all this? I get that Lorup said I'm automatically a Warden of the Forest, but does that mean

everyone

is going to react like this? It's already creeping me out. I told you last night that I'm fairly wealthy on my world, but even back there I don't get this kind of response when people discover it. Please stand up, Captain Dakkrig."

Before anyone could respond, Dakkrig stood and regarded Arawn for a moment, then looked to Grok in bewilderment.

"Forgive me, I mean no disrespect to our new ally, but I can scarcely believe what I have heard. I've been told that this man dented steel plate armor with his bare fists..."

"Not fists, brass knuckles. Grok called them cesti," Rawn corrected.

"Even so," Dakkrig continued, "what human has such strength that they can dent plate armor without hammer or mace?"

"A good question," Grok answered, "and not without cause. You and your men did not witness the sight that I and mine were treated to yesterday when the human was unleashed from the Vaszul's cage. We saw a beast that left them bewildered, one that broke them with both his cesti and their own weapons. I am certain that, to you, it must sound as though we are describing a legend, so your skepticism is justified. It's not an issue right now, but it could become one in the future if we have to face the Vaszul. If Rawn will consent to one further exhibition, I think we can put this to rest once and for all. However, if two battle-companies of hardened orc soldiers and and three Wardens of Lakehome cannot convince them of his ability, anyone who doubts after this will be hopeless."

That left Dakkrig confused, "Three Wardens of Lakehome?"

"Indeed," Grok told him, "The Lady Amevina, Lord Vorsah, and his wife, the Lady Ke'line shared his cage. He also bested Lord Vorsah in a proving."

Grok looked to Arawn for confirmation and received a nod.

"Then it is settled. Dakkrig, have your company's finest hand-to-hand fighter meet outside in the clearing where the scorch mark is. This will be settled the orc way, this time,... with bare fists."

*********

For the third time since his release from the cage, Arawn Stonebrook found himself in a fight. For the first few moments, Rawn simply ducked or swatted away Dakkrig's punches and focused on the study of his opponent. Rawn had changed into his bike shorts, and had gone shirtless and barefoot for the fight. Dakkrig had dressed similarly, though in the orc equivalent of loose pants.

Once Rawn felt he had taken a good measure of Dakkrig, he let one of the orc's jabs through and took a stinger right to the corner of his mouth. Dakkrig hid his surprise well... that blow should have took the human off his feet. Instead, the human's head only showed a quick jerk for the orc's efforts. Rawn stepped back and wiped his bleeding lip with a thumb, then licked the blood away. Now that Dakkrig had given it some thought, his hand hurt more than it should have as well. Felt like he had punched the hull of a trade ship.

"Now that's what I've been waiting for, big fella," Rawn told him. "Let's do this dance right, shall we?"

Grok's orcs cheered while the rest of their brethren looked on in confusion. What was so special about this human? He had yet to land a blow on Dakkrig, but they acted like the orc was already unconscious. Dakkrig's troops watched their captain grunt an affirmative toward the human. This time, the human closed the distance between himself and the orc, and what they would later come to know as the

real

fight... began.

The beginning was deceptive. Rawn began to probe at Dakkrig's defenses. He drew the orc into attacks that he easily countered with shots to the body that robbed Dakkrig of precious wind a little at a time. The outlander had apparently decided to take his time and give the orcs a show; to the trained eye there was no doubt, Rawn was about to take the orc apart.

A frustrated Dakkrig lashed out with a wild right hook that Rawn ducked and answered with a hook of his own to each of the orc's thighs that put the big man onto his knees. Even his fans among the crowd were stunned, however, when the uppercut that completed the three-punch combination lifted Dakkrig up off the ground enough to land him flat on his back. Rawn knew the orc was not out of the fight and stepped back.

As Grok watched the fight, he smiled in realization.

This is why the man protests that he is not skilled with the blade,

he thought to himself,

and why he carries those cesti he calls brass knuckles. He is in complete control of this engagement, where speed was his only advantage against Vorsah's skill. ... the heart of an orc.

Sure enough, Dakkrig climbed to his feet and shook off the blows with a growl.

"That won't be enough, human. You'll find that orcs take more to put down than a Vaszul worm," Dakkrig declared.

"I'm counting on it, buddy."

If Dakkrig's supporters were confused by the human's earlier outburst, they had absolutely no idea what to make of this new declaration.

The next exchange saw a much more focused Dakkrig launch a flurry of punches that scored a few hits to Arawn's torso, but the human stood firm and the blows barely registered. Everyone gasped when Dakkrig took advantage of a lapse in Arawn's timing and wrapped him in a bear hug when he bit on a feint and ducked, only to pop up into the waiting bearhug of an angry and determined orc.

Amevina covered her mouth in fear while Grok's brow furrowed in concern. When Nudjik cheered so loud that he could be heard over the entire crowd, Grok laughed, but when he turned his attention back to the fight he couldn't believe what he saw. Instead of distress on Rawn's face, he saw only raw intensity and determination. He nudged Amevina, "Look at his hands..."

Her jaw went slack when she saw what Grok pointed out. Arawn's hands, rather, his arms, were several inches away from his body. Dakkrig was unable to crush him. Rawn shocked them all again when he delivered a series of four rapid headbuts to his assailant's nose that broke the orc's hold and left it thoroughly broken as well. The moment Rawn's feet hit the ground, he delivered a quick flurry of punches to Dakkrig's left thigh until the orc's muscle could no longer support him through the abuse. The orc held up his hands in defeat when he dropped to his knees, unable to see through the searing pain only centimetres from his eyes.

"No more, human! I am blinded by a broken nose and cannot stand. This is not life or death; I know when I am beaten. I yield."

Before the cheer could even rise up from the crowd, Grok and Amevina reached the pair. The elf threw her arms around Arawn and clung for dear life while she gave him a thorough dressing down. Grok gave Dakkrig a hearty pat on the back.

"Do you believe now, cousin?"

Dakkrig held a cloth to his nose that had been handed to him by a random person, "I still do not know if I believe all the wonders I've been told, but that human is swift and tough. That much, I'll admit. He punches harder than some orcs I know." Dakkrig looked to the human and laughed. "I apologize for underestimating you, Lord Arawn. I should have taken my cousin at his word."

Rawn turned and offered his hand. "No offense taken, Captain Dakkrig. This whole thing feels crazy to me, too."

Dakkrig shook the hand and that was the end of it for them. They received more of the crowd, eager to congratulate them both on an impressive fight. When the last of them had come through, Rawn turned to Grok with a grave look.