The Elf Wife Ch 04

Chapter 4

Bed, Roof, and Walls.

Urragn woke her early. "Don't get up," he said. "I'm going into the village to buy some things. Stay in the room and keep the window closed. We don't need anyone to see you."

"And what will you do to me if I leave?" Aris asked.

"I told you that if you fled from me, I would not pursue you. But I won't wait for you to come back. Are you planning to flee?"

Aris sighed. "No."

He paused and asked the next question carefully. "Are you planning to find some way to kill me?"

"No," she said. She could not be offended by a perfectly fair question.

"And you aren't planning to kill yourself the way your officers would have instructed you to do?"

"No," she said.

"Good," he said. "I... I know you don't want me to try and romance you anymore. But... I still do hope you can find happiness with me. It isn't my desire to cause you pain or make you miserable. I don't want you to feel like a prisoner."

"I know," she said. "I know and I don't care. My happiness is my own business."

Urragn nodded. He seemed a bit hurt by Aris's coldness. But he decided not to comment on it any further. "I will be back before lunchtime. When the innkeeper comes to give you breakfast, don't open the door for her. Have her set it in the hallway so that you can take it without being seen."

"As you wish," she said.

When he came back, he brought a bag with him filled with goods. "You aren't dead and I'm not dead," he said. "It's good to know I can leave you unsupervised."

"I thought I wasn't a prisoner?" she said.

"The door is unlocked, Aris Alvander. But that doesn't mean I should trust you completely." He placed the bag on the bed and spread open its lips. "Some things to make you look a bit more respectable," he said. And then he paused and looked at her carefully, realizing that he may have made a mistake. "Not that you are... well."

She snorted. "You don't find me attractive?" Aris said.

He raised his eyebrows and kept his mouth shut as he removed the items from the bag.

She crossed her arms and grinned. "What was it you said to the captain the other night, before the feast table? 'Permission to speak freely,'" she said.

Urragn raised his eyebrows. "You elves... you look like a miscarried fetus."

Aris had not expected that. She actually laughed.

"It's true," Urragn said. "You are skinny and small. You have very little hair. Not like an orcish woman at all."

"Would it help to know that I think you orcs look like poorly-bred bulldogs?" Aris said.

"Dogs are loyal at least," Urragn said. "I'll take it as a compliment."

Aris caught her breath and sighed. "And what did your father do when he caught you with that watermelon, Jarl Urragn."

His smile faded completely in a moment. Aris noticed and decided not to press further.

He changed the subject. "I have another change of clothes for you. Something else to pin up your hair, and a bit of jewelry. I told you I'd get you jewelry when we got to Tubid, and I did."

He laid the ornaments out on the bed in front of Aris. There were a pair of bronze bracelets, an arm cuff, and a copper necklace.

"I told you not to try and romance me," Aris said coldly. "Buying me jewelry isn't necessary."

"It isn't romance. If we have guests at Fud Faragna, I need the jarl's wife to look like a jarl's wife. People will ask questions if they see I haven't spent any money on you. I also got you this." He produced a little silken cord on which hung a pendant carved from bone.

Aris took the pendant in her hand and examined it. It bore the image of a doe.

"The goddess Chavishat. In some of the stories she appears as a doe."

"She's a fertility goddess, isn't she?" Aris asked.

"Kadinog is the fertility god, and I wear his token," Urragn said. From the collar of his tunic, he pulled a little silver medallion of his own. "Since I am trying to help you conceive. And he wards off cancer, which is what killed my grandfather. Chavishat protects pregnant and birthing mothers. And if all goes well you will need her help very soon. But it only works if you are wearing it."

Aris didn't know what to make of the little bone medallion. "We elves don't pray to Chavishat, and we don't believe in the power of talismans."

"It works whether you believe it or not," Urragn said. "Put it on. It would make me feel better to know you were wearing it."

Aris tied the doe medallion around her neck. It felt strangely heavy on her collarbone. She had always imagined that she might bear a child at one point in her life. However, she'd also half assumed she'd die before she ever got a chance to do something so boring and ordinary. But the thought of actually being pregnant was odd and uncomfortable, like a violation of the divine natural order. People like her took life. They didn't create it.

She decided to try on the other jewelry. The bracelets were a bit too big for her, but the copper necklace fit nicely. She saw another piece in the bag and pulled it out. It was a pair of silver earrings molded to look like chamomile flowers.

"These are lovely, but I don't have my ears pierced," she said.

"Those aren't for you," Urragn said, taking the earrings from her hand. "They're for Vrishtagna."

"Who?"

"Vrishtagna. My wife."

Aris blinked for a moment. "Urragn, we just got married two days ago."

Urragn sensed Aris's discomfort, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. "I remember. I was there," he said.

"And when did you marry Vrishtagna?" Aris said.

"Before I became the Jarl of Fud Faragna. We were teenagers. Aris, you knew enough about me to know I would be at Katkasad. You know the details of my career. You knew enough about me that they trusted you to come and kill me. How do you not know the name of my oldest wife?"

"Oldest...

oldest

wife?" Aris said. She ran her fingers through her hair.

"I'm forty-four years old. I've been the Jarl at Fud Faragna for nearly twenty years. Why would I not be married, Aris?"

"Because you are married to me, first of all."

"

And

I'm married to Vrishtagna."

"Urragn. How many wives do you have?" Aris said.

"Six, depending on how you count," Urragn said. "Six by roof. Four by bed. And now that I have you, that's seven by roof and five by bed."

"Seven wives?"

"I can afford it," he said.

Aris sat down and put her face in her hands.

"I think you will like Vrishtagna," he said. "Though I don't think she's going to like you, but that can't be helped."

When they were on the road again, Aris sat at the back of the wagon looking out at the road behind them. Her stomach ached. Urragn tried to reassure her in the worst way possible. He spoke in elaborate detail about all the patriarchal nonsense he had set up in Fud Faragna.

"There is Vrishtagna. She is the oldest. I have six children through her, including my son Gahi. Gahi has a wife. But she is technically my wife. Her name is Chavishat, after the goddess. She is the daughter of the Jarl of Black River Canyon, but it would have been improper for her to be married to the son of a jarl and not the jarl himself. So, by roof she is married to me and by bed she is my son's wife."

"So, you do not have seven wives?" Aris said, struggling to follow along.

"I have seven wives. Five by bed. Seven by roof."

"So, you have five wives?"

"By bed. By roof seven."

"Urragn, you are not making any sense," Aris said.

"What about it doesn't make sense? I can't have seven wives and possibly sleep with all of them."

"If you do not sleep with them, they are not your wives."

"They are. By roof." He was getting a bit annoyed. "You had parents, didn't you? Your mother and father shared a bed, I assume. But you and your father did not share a bed, because that would be improper. But if you had a child while living in your father's house it would be

his

child, would it not? Regardless of who had impregnated you."

"No, it would be my child," Aris said.

"But he is their roof father, and not their bed father," Urragn said. "Like the children's song. Mother and father share a bed, child and father share a roof, master and servant share the walls... I won't sing it. I don't sing, except for religious things. But you get the idea."

"I do not," she said.

Urragn tapped her on the shoulder to get her to look at him. He gestured with his hands, drawing circles of increasing size in the air. "Bed, roof, walls."

"And how many children do you have?" she said.

"If Ugamat hasn't delivered by the time we get home, seventeen by roof. One of those is my daughter's child. Or two.

Urragn rambled on about his various wives. He listed their names, and the names of their children, and Aris forgot them as soon as she heard them. One of the wives was the niece of the Orc King, and Urragn explained that it was extremely important that Aris only ever address her as "Dame." The idea of calling an orc woman a dame was uncomfortable to Aris, but she was no longer part of elvish society, so she would have to get used to it.

Urragn further explained that two of the wives were not his wives. One belonged to his son, and one belonged to his daughter, and was also a male.

"Which means he's your... husband?" Aris asked.

"No. He's my wife. By roof. And my daughter's husband by bed."

"Why didn't you marry your daughter off to a different family?"

"I did, with my other daughters. But Ugamat, she's... well. You'll meet her. We can't send her away."

"And she has a husband, who is your wife."

"I prepared the feast. He bit into it. It is called a mother's marriage, and it isn't the norm, but it isn't abnormal either. I assume you do the same thing sometimes in elf noble families."

"We do not."

He shook his head. "It will make sense when you meet them."

They ascended uphill and through a mountain pass. When they reached the other side, the weather changed. The punishingly pure blue sky was now white, with rolling clouds. It began to rain. The drops fell onto the canvas wagon cover with little pit-patter sounds. Urragn closed the flaps, and then he gave Aris a serious look. She wasn't immediately sure what it meant, until he unwrapped his skirts and grabbed a vial of oil from one of his bags.

Her emotions were mixed as she watched him wake his sleeping instrument. When he was hard, he took his medallion to his god and kissed it for good luck. Wordlessly he reached for the sash around her waist and untied it. His fingers brushed around her stomach as he did.

He noticed the nervous look on her face, and he lifted her chin so that she was forced to look him in the eye. To her relief he said nothing. He simply cupped her cheek in his great hand. When he leaned forward to kiss her, she blocked his mouth with her fingers. They looked at each other for a moment, trying to read each other's faces. She was sure there were all sorts of emotions swirling around inside of him, but she could not tell what they were, and he was determined not to show them.

She leaned backward on the pillows and propped herself up by her elbows. He finished undressing her, unwrapping her carefully as if peeling an orange.

As she lay pressed under his great body, she absorbed the warmth radiating from him. She felt his chest and his stomach, and she wondered how someone could be so hard and so soft at the same time. His cock carried the same contradiction. It was gentle as it prodded around her lower lips, searching for its proper place, but with each touch she could feel a great strength and heat within it. And she believed him when he told her it had produced so many children.

It hurt when he entered her, but the oil helped. "I should have brought the oil with me yesterday," he said. "Sorry about that."

"It doesn't matter," she said. "And be quiet. The driver will hear us."

He wrapped his fat arms around her body and slid them under her shoulder blades, pressing her against his chest. She absorbed the pressure and friction of him inside her as their bodies linked together. She had asked him to be cold and direct when he had sex with her, to spare her any complicated mixed emotions. She hoped he would inseminate her, not "make love" to her or even fuck her. But his member warmed her from the inside out, and his great body warmed her from above. Why did he have to be so warm?

Her poor heart was not going to escape so easily. She missed his sorry attempts at dirty talk, but she was more grateful than ever not to have to hear it.

He finished quickly. When he did, he paused for a minute to stroke her face, but then he stopped himself and pulled away. They disconnected. He cleaned himself off with a towel from his bag, and then tossed the towel to her so that she could do the same.

She wordlessly put her clothes back on, but when she did, he told her to lay back down. Once again, he placed a pillow under her hips and massaged her stomach with the heel of his palm.

"I can rub my own stomach," she said, completely uncertain that such a thing was even helpful.

"You don't know the technique the midwife taught me. Just let me do this," he said. She despised how much she enjoyed the touch. This was the exact thing she had hoped to avoid.

They did not speak another word for the rest of the trip. The boring silence overwhelmed him, and he opened the flaps of the wagon cover so they could watch the scenery.

It was beautiful as they approached Fud Faragna, green and wet, with wildflowers peppering the roadside. The moist air and darkened sky had an odd effect on the landscape, making the colors appear brighter and twice as vibrant as they would be in the full light of the sun. The sound of the falling rain was intoxicating and soothing. Aris was a bit chilly with the flaps opened. She wanted to snuggle up next to him and fall asleep in his arms as they had done the day before. But they had decided they would not do such things.

Soon the driver peaked under the front curtains of the wagon to announce that they were about to cross the River Fud.

"Welcome home, Lady Aris," the jarl said. She hated the way he said it. She could not tell if he was being sarcastic or not. He had been in a somewhat sour mood since they'd had sex earlier, and she wasn't entirely sure why.

Fud Faragna was the name of the jarl's household. The village around it was of course called Faragna. And the Jarl's domain was the County Fud. Aris had heard once that Urragn also owned a few tracts of land far south near the border with elvish country, but not enough for him to gain any type of secondary titles from that.

The village was a simple, underwhelming place. The houses were not particularly beautiful, with grass thatching and stone walls. The streets were barely even streets, just tracts of mud between patches of grass where people tended to walk most often. Aris saw a few orc children standing by a house as their wagons passed by. She had never seen an orc child before, and there was something about them that made her want to look at them even closer. Urragn closed the canvas flaps.

"Sorry, it still isn't a good idea for you to be seen," he said to Aris.

She was annoyed. "So, I have to stay walled up in your compound until you decide that I'm not an embarrassment anymore?"

"It's not about embarrassment. We talked about this," Urragn said.

"I don't get to go shopping in the village, or take walks outside? Or are you jealous? Are you afraid that if another male looks at one of your wives my honor might be tainted?"

And for the first time Aris saw Urragn actually get angry. "By the blood of the boar, Aris Alvander. Will you just listen to me for once!" He closed his eyes, scrunched his face, and opened his mouth so that his tusks looked bigger and sharper than ever. He slapped a hand on the floor of the wagon. She shrunk back. Very quickly he composed himself, and he thought before he spoke.

"Bed. Roof. Walls," Urragn said, once again drawing circles in the air of increasing size. "I have you in my bed. I have you within my roof and walls too. Under my roof I have my children. In my walls I have the servants and my drafted troops. But the walls go out further. There's the village. There's the county. And I am the master of them. And someone else is the master over me. I am in someone else's walls, which means that you are too. The king ordered me to keep this marriage a secret until he feels the moment is right. And that's that. Fish swim. Birds fly. Children obey their parents. Jarls and jarls' wives obey their king."

"I don't appreciate being lectured," Aris said.

"Then learn it the first time I explain it to you," he said. "And as I said before. If you don't like it, leave. I will not pursue you."

"Either I obey you perfectly or our marriage is doomed. Is that what you're saying?"

"You are deliberately misinterpreting me," he said.

"I don't think I am," she replied.

He closed his eyes, raised his hands in front of him, took a breath, and then shut his mouth. He did not respond to any further arguments or prompting. A horrible thought occurred to Aris that plenty of orcish men likely beat their wives. She had known Jarl Urragn for only a few days, and he had been more or less kind to her so far. But who knew how long that would last. She wondered if he had an ulterior motivation for not allowing her to have her sword.

But she decided she would not shrink herself down to try and avoid his wrath. Whatever wrath he had was on his conscience, not hers. However, she hoped things would never get to that point.

The jarl's household was surrounded by an ancient stone wall. It was at least 20 feet tall, and there was space along the top for soldiers to stand and keep watch or fire arrows.

Bed, roof, walls.

A pair of guards at the big iron gate let them through. Aris's mouth went a bit dry as they entered the compound. Doubtless the walls were built to keep enemy soldiers out. She was an enemy soldier, but she was going to be stuck inside.

The wagon stopped, and the jarl jumped out. His voice sang out loud and clear. "Vrish, my dear! Come here and let me put my arms around you!"

Aris stepped out of the wagon and watched the jarl greet a fat middle aged she-orc. He lifted her in the air as if she weighed absolutely nothing, and he kissed her.

"Never go to war again!" Vrish said.

"I have a lot of explaining to do, but our king has a plan to make that happen," Urragn said. "Now did she have that baby yet?"

"No. But she's big as a house and complaining constantly."

"I'm glad I won't miss it," he said. He lowered his voice to a growling whisper, too soft for orc ears to hear, but Aris could discern every word. "I do not want to look at anyone or speak to anyone until I have pinned you down and fucked you into a screaming, shaking fit."

Vrish laughed. "The children will see us on our way back to your rooms."

"Then I will fuck you in the bathhouse."

"Oh, those cold hard floors? My old back can't handle it."

"Well, you'll have to be on top."

She laughed again.

So that must have been Vrishtagna, the oldest wife.

Urragn shouted an order before he carried his sweetheart away to have his way with her. "Captain! Show our newcomer around, and then take her to her room. We'll save introductions for dinner time."

The captain gave Aris a tired look. "Alright, then. Let's go."

Aris followed Captain Adgavad around the great compound. He started with the bathhouse.

"There's the men's and the women's. There's a system that keeps the water heated in the winter. Don't ask me how it works. Go inside and look around if you want."

"Uhm... maybe later," Aris said.

The captain shrugged. He showed her the outhouses, then the workshops where the jarl's blacksmith resided and the women did their weaving.

"The servant women?" Aris asked.