The First Guardian
The path led the Soulbound through dusty rocks and seemingly endless, and similar, hills until after an unexpected turn, the pair found themselves facing a stand of skeletal trees. A desolate breeze whistled through the branches, creating the illusion that the trees were moving when Eleanor glimpsed them out of the corner of her eye.
Once through the falsely-animated foliage, the elves traversed a flat plain broken only by an occasional brown reed that jutted up from the blasted earth. On the far side of the space, Peridur could see another stand of dead trees. The path went straight through this area.
After only a few steps on the path through the reeds, a disquiet began to build in Eleanor’s chest. The drums were leading her unerringly onward, but another melody was beginning to push the beat aside. It was a high-pitched shriek, so high that it would have most likely been missed by any but the elvish bard. As it was, the whistle was building in pitch and she found herself shaking her head in an effort to clear it.
Peridur noticed immediately that something was wrong. He put his hand to the small of Eleanor’s back in concern and she looked at him with pain in her eyes.
“There is something in this place that feels entirely unnatural,” she said and put a hand over both ears in an effort to block the sound out. “Beyond the obvious.”
Peridur couldn’t hear the sound, but he could easily perceive the waves of pain pouring off his Soulbound. “Perhaps if we travel faster?” he queried.
The whistle changed to a scream and increased so both elves could now hear it. “It’s coming closer,” Eleanor said and pointed to the left of the path where something was rapidly moving beneath the ground, sending puffs of the dry dust of the plain in its wake.
Peridur pulled an arrow from the quiver at his back and with a practiced motion, released it towards the shrieking thing. When the arrow struck, the screaming abruptly ceased, but the ground began to tremble in a sudden quake. The creature rose from the dust, a whiplike monstrosity with neither appendages nor eyes, and headed straight for the Soulbound.
The broken reeds retracted within the ground as the plain itself started to split in twain. Eleanor grabbed Peridur’s hand and the pair began to run with the sure-footed speed of their kind towards the far stand of trees.
The spindley creature followed along the fissure opening up in the ground and, in a flash of insight, Peridur realized they were standing in the open maw of a giant. The creature following them, he reasoned, was the thing’s tongue.
Eleanor was singing quietly in an effort to increase their speed as the Soulbound raced the crushing jaws of the monster.
“Jump,” Peridur cried as they cleared the final stand of trees. He made the leap with no difficulty but the creature’s tongue snagged Eleanor’s foot as she soared beside him. It yanked her back into the swiftly closing landscape as something enormous with two curved horns atop its skinless skull began to unearth itself from beneath the plain.
Eleanor’s face was pale but determined as she drew a short dagger from the belt at her waist and stabbed at the thing that encircled her ankle. Where the dagger struck, green ichor poured from the tongue. It released the elf’s foot as the whistling shriek began again.
Meanwhile, Peridur had fit another arrow to his bow, this one with a length of light gray rope attached to it. “Eleanor,” he said quietly, speaking directly into her mind through the psychic connection the Soulbound shared. “Catch.” He released the arrow and it flew in a graceful arc to end less than a handbreadth from Eleanor’s grasping hand.
Eleanor had been clawing the dust in an effort to stay out of the ever-widening fissure behind her, but she turned her attention to the rope and looped it around her waist. Peridur braced himself and heaved on the line, pulling the bard out a moment before the giant’s mouth snapped shut.
Eleanor found herself in her Soulbound’s dirt-streaked arms. Together, they watched the undead horned skeleton sink beneath the dust of the plain once more, leaving a gaping pit in its wake.
“You never told me you could fish,” she said, and unceremoniously fainted.
Nym the Healer
When Eleanor opened her eyes, she was back in their bedroom with Peridur’s arms wrapped around her. The pillow beneath her head was damp from the blood dripping from her ears and nose.
Her Soulbound picked her up and carried her some distance across the elvish city of Luthien to the modest but functional home of Nym Triscyne, one of the few master healers left on this side of the sea. Though the sun was barely clearing the horizon, Nym was awake and puttering around her fireplace, stirring a small cauldron filled with a brew that bubbled and smoked, emitting a pleasant, earthy aroma.
As she stirred, Nym began to experience phantom pains in her ears which she first ignored, but then couldn’t as they increased in intensity. So, she put down her spoon and made her way to the front door of her cottage, where Nym was still standing when the Soulbound arrived moments later.
“What and where?” she asked, brusquely.
Peridur took no offense, it was simply the healer’s unique manner of communicating. “An undead’s piercing shriek within the realm of shadows,” he said, settling Eleanor on the low couch in the entryway.
“Realm of shadows,” Nym repeated, turning abruptly to a cabinet full of medicinals that she kept next to the couch. “Why?”
“I was given a prophecy by a fish,” Eleanor said weakly, dabbing at the blood that continued to drip down her ears.
Nym snorted but gathered a few items together without further comment. Returning to Eleanor’s side, she handed the elf a silver candle with mystical runes etched onto its surface. “Sing to awaken its flame,” she instructed. “Then listen to it burn.”
Eleanor sang a few notes and the candle caught fire, burning with a strange black flame. She tilted her head towards the flame, first one side and then the other, bathing her ears in a healing song that could only be perceived by the bard. Nym washed the blood off of Eleanor’s neck and earlobes as she did so, using water from the sacred river that flowed through Luthien to the sea.
“The goddess must have been keeping you safe,” Nym said, once the candle had burned for a few minutes. “There are far worse fates that could have befallen you two in the realm of shadows at the hands of the restless undead beasts that dwell there.” She blew out the flame on Eleanor’s candle and gestured for the elf to put it in her pocket.
“Take it with you,” she said. “And this.” Nym handed over another unburnt candle from her bag. “You may meet more of the spirits haunting that forsaken place.”
“I don’t expect we’ll have much trouble entering the realm again,” Eleanor said. “The path ahead was clearly marked by drums.” As Eleanor thanked the healer for her time and attention, Nym handed Peridur a small bottle of salve. He looked at Nym with a question in his eyes.
“For your shoulder,” the healer said. “I can feel there’s something wrong with it. Smear it with that and it should trouble you no more.”
Peridur did as she instructed, and he felt a blessed relief from the nagging pain that had taken hold the moment he had pulled Eleanor from the mouth of the creature. “My thanks,” he said. “Before we go, have you ever heard tales of a huge horned beast within the shadow realm?”
Nym put the few remaining medicines back into her cabinet. “Not tales, but I have treated many wounds in my centuries of life upon Arda.” The healer’s eyes slowly shut as she struggled to retrieve a memory from deep within her past.
“When I was young, I bound the injuries of a young warrior who was strong, even among the mightiest of our kind. And he triumphed against an aurochs, a live one then of course, as large as you described.” Nym’s eyes snapped open once more and the vault of her memory abruptly closed. “But my efforts were all in vain on that long ago day. Not even I can stand against the will of the gods.”
“The gods?” Eleanor asked. “What do the gods care about the affairs of the mortals of Arda?”
Nym looked troubled. “They care more than you or I or any of our greatest star-gazers know, young Soulbound. Watch your step lest you inadvertently cross one of them in this quest of yours.” She closed the wooden medicine cabinet door with a satisfying click.
“A final word of warning,” Nym said, straightening her back as she stood. “Spiritual wounds are as deadly as the physical kind, possibly more dangerous, because their mark isn’t as easy to perceive in the flesh.”
She clasped hands with both Soulbound, more relaxed now that the healing crisis had passed. “And, I don’t need to say it, but take care of each other.” Nym clasped her palms before her chest in benediction. “For this is the twilight era, and long is the lament of the elves.”
Echoing her words, Peridur and Eleanor made their way back home in the early morning light. As they walked through the largely empty streets of Luthien, the Soulbound could be seen leaning together, not because they needed the support, but because the greatest source of healing for the two that shared one soul, was each other.
Into Shadows Once More
For one night and day they rested until the healer’s magic could work its way through Eleanor. The elder race is hardy and recover quickly in their own lands.
The second evening, Peridur prepared to enter the shadow realm again. Anticipating they may be there a while this time, he wrote a letter to the Etharch to explain where the Soulbound were heading and why. Sealing the letter and leaving it on his desk for collection, he went to the bedroom.
As he entered the room, he could see Eleanor was already in the bed and tucked neatly under the covers. He approached, shedding his richly embroidered tunic and loose trousers for night clothes. He had just pulled up his night trousers when he noticed the rhythmic movement of Eleanor’s hand under the covers.
“What are you doing, love?” he asked.
Though that was what Peridur actually said, in the twisting, mystical experience of the Soulbound which is beyond the understanding of all but the two who share it, what Eleanor heard was, “What are you dreaming, love?”
And this was the fantasy of Eleanor:
Returning from a formal audience with the Etharch about the merits of gazing into water under full moonlight rather than starlight, she couldn’t wait to get out of her confining court wear. The moment she reached the door of their home, Eleanor was pulling on the laces that ran down either side of her intricate, brocade gown.
Despite her discomfort, Eleanor loved that dress. It was the deep blue of the ocean and had a swirling pattern of tiny goldfish in alternating colors of silver and red, the heraldic colors of the Soulbound, that ran from the hem of the skirt to her neckline.
“Peridur, where are you,” she called, grimacing as the laces stuck in a particularly uncomfortable way. “I need your help.”
As she entered their bedroom with its thick, woven carpets covered in patterns of tangled vines, Eleanor could see Peridur was already in the bed and tucked neatly under the covers. She approached, giving her impossible lacing a final tug and pulling the main body of the dress over her head, emerging with her hair in a messy tangle. She had just managed to run her fingers through her hair once, then twice, when she noticed the rhythmic movement of Peridur’s hand under the covers.
“Oh my love,” she said. “Is it as bad as all that?”
“You were away so long,” Peridur said. “I thought maybe I could give myself a hand while you were busy.”
“Would you prefer some help?” she asked playfully.
“No,” he said, his hands continuing to move beneath the blanket.
Eleanor gave a small pout and threw off the rest of her under clothes, tunneling under the blankets to share the warmth of Peridur’s body.
“You’re still feeling some of the effects of our latest adventure,” she said, licking his lower lip and putting her hands over his own. “Why don’t you just lay back and relax?”
Peridur continued rubbing his cock, not bothered in the slightest that Eleanor was there with him. She blew out all the candles in the room except one and moved down on the bed, pulling off the cover as she went, so she could watch the way that her Soulbound touched himself.
Her lover was well-endowed, Eleanor thought appreciatively, with a delicious curve to the shaft of his cock that rubbed her in all the right places. Whenever he decided to share himself with her, that is. Which apparently wasn’t this night.
She noticed then he was wearing his cock ring. It caused this shaft to stand at attention, super hard, purplish and visibly throbbing. The angry mushroom head looked ready to explode.
Eleanor’s brow creased with concern. “How long have you been waiting for my return, love?” she said. “I love enjoying a stiff erection with you but that can’t be comfortable. I fear you may do damage to yourself.” She went to remove the device from her lover’s body but a grunt of disapproval stayed her hand. Rather than making a scene, Eleanor settled back on her heels to await her Soulbound’s wishes and enjoy the show in the meantime.
Curiously, he didn’t favor either hand, but alternated back and forth, stroking himself first with one hand then another. Eleanor watched as her lover’s cock grew stiffer and fuller, and felt herself growing wet with desire, wishing Peridur would spend some of his sexual needs on her.
“Let me take you in my mouth,” she asked as his breath came quicker and a small bead of pre-ejaculate started to form on the tip of his cock.
He sighed as if bored when Eleanor could see he was anything but. “If you must,” he said, his hands continuing to move over his body. She straddled his legs so that her body wouldn’t be in the way of his stroking and lightly licked the budding moisture off of his cock with the tip of her tongue. She lowered her head a little more with each stroke until she had the head of his cock in her mouth while his hands continued to move up and down.
Mimicking his motions, Eleanor moved her tongue to the rhythm Peridur dictated, inhaling the scent of his body as his motions became more urgent. A desperate need was building between her legs, an ache that demanded to be filled by the very thing her lover was denying her. Finally, when she couldn’t take it anymore, Eleanor took her mouth off of his cock and moved up the length of his body, nipping his stomach and chest as she went.
“Please, lover,” she begged when she reached the level of his mouth. “Please fuck me.”
Suddenly she heard: “What are you doing, love?” And she was returned to the reality that the Soulbound shared with everyone else.
“You know I have trouble falling asleep,” she said. “I thought maybe I could give myself a hand while you were busy.”
“Would you prefer some help?” he asked solicitously.
“Well, what did you have in mind?”
“Something not too energetic,” he said. “You’re still feeling some of the effect of your ordeal. Why don’t you just lay back and relax?”
Eleanor sighed and lay back comfortably in the pillows. Forgetting his nightshirt, Peridur lit the incense and blew out all but one candle before approaching the foot of the bed.
Taking hold of the bed cover, he slowly drew it down and, as he did, Eleanor’s night dress came into view- silver cloth embroidered with the mystic symbols of her bardic song craft. The light fabric had a slight shimmer and hugged her body suggestively.
When the cover reached her waist, he noticed she had not pushed the nightdress back down. The smell of her filled Peridur’s senses, causing him to shiver in the warm room. Her sex was exposed and glistening slightly. Earlier that day, Peridur had shaved a pattern into the space above her mound, the elvish letters P and E entwined. Though she had agreed to the design before he had applied it, Peridur recalled she could be a bit shy about voicing any objections to the art he chose for her body, and took a mental note to ask if she actually did like it or was only bending to his whims later.
Leaning over, and starting with her foot, Peridur began to kiss his way up her calf, then her thigh, gently spreading her legs open as he went. He could feel her stiffen slightly when he found the ticklish spot on the back of her knee. He heard a faint sigh as he bit the tender skin of her inner thigh, leaving the marks of his teeth as he went because he knew Eleanor liked to look at those marks when their love making was through and remember the pleasure she took in their application.
By this point, he was lying on the bed himself. Eleanor, knowing his intent, playfully held her legs together so Peridur was forced to manhandle her legs back to her chest and hold them open. The rose bud below her sex was exposed, and her labia parted slightly to reveal her nub of pleasure peaking from its hood.
Peridur paused to admire her as Eleanor blushed beneath his hands. He felt he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life, though this was nothing compared to the inner realms of his beloved.
Lowering his head, Peridur started by licking her sex until it was fully opened. The first lick brought a moan from Eleanor, the second a rush of wetness and the third a brief shudder.
He slipped his tongue slowly into her, drawing out her essence again and again. He worked at this for some time, in and out steadily, appreciating the flavor of his soul mate in his mouth and eager to have more. When she was slick with her own juices, he moved lower for a few moments to tease at her backside with his tongue, stimulating the sensitive nerves found there and sending an electric shock up her body.
Moving back, he admired his handiwork. Eleanor’s sex was now enflammed. She had begun a slow squirming movement in the hips. It was time to pleasure her in her most sensitive spot.
Licking up again from the bottom of her, this time he stopped and pressed his lip against her nub. Moving slowly, in the way he often kissed her, he rubbed his lip up and down on the shaft. After a few moments, it stiffened noticeably, and so he switched now to the underside of his tongue. The softness of it would tease her without providing enough stimulation to complete her ecstasy.
Eleanor was now grinding her hips back and forth. As the ocean started to come in for her, her lover would pull back and let it recede. But each time he let the tide rise a bit higher.
Peridur used the tip of his tongue in playful swipes back and forth, keeping her on the edge of bliss but never pushing her over. She grew a bit frantic in her movements, and conscious of the quest that still lay ahead of them, Peridur pressed in closer. On another night, he thought, he might tease her like this until she begged for relief.
Using the rougher top of this tongue now, Peridur firmly moved up and down her elongated shaft, using the finger of his hand to slightly draw back the hood. Eleanor’s breathing grew more ragged and she kept pressing up against him, seeking release.
Finally, Peridur noted the telltale retraction of her nub which signalled imminent release. He kept up his licking careful not to change anything now that he had found the rhythm that would bring her to completion.
Then, with one last gasp, she was there, grinding against his face and arching her body against the bed. Shudder after shudder ran up her from toe to head and back down, each smaller than the one before.
She was settled again and breathing deeply, but Peridur knew he was not done. Eleanor would want something more now that her entire body was tingling with pleasure. Pushing down his night trousers to reveal his hard cock, he moved up and placed himself at her entrance.
She reached up to pull him in, then started to kiss him as he began a slow but steady thrusting in her wetness. He would not last long, pleasuring her always left him ready to explode.
The insides of her tickled the delicate spot under the crown of his cock, which grew ever so slightly longer and harder. Taking Eleanor in his arms, he buried himself completely in her and added his flood to hers.
“Now,” he thought once the pleasure had faded from his limbs. “We are ready for the shadow realm.”
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.