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#1 Guest_Flarn_*

Posted 18 February 2007 - 04:52 AM

Miles to Go Before I Sleep

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.


- Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening, H. W. Longfellow

Larswood, 28 Uktar, 1368.

The golden wolf loped through the snow covered woodland, now and then stopping to sniff here and there, her sensitive nose alert to the nuances of nature. A squirrel had been here recently, making a last check on his winter stores, and grabbing a bedtime snack before settling in for his winter nap. Further on... ah, black bear... someone you didn't want to disturb, at most times of the year, but now, he was starting to get fat, and slow, munching on the last, dried up scraps he could find before he too found his season's rest.

A doe started warily as the wolf bounded into the clearing and made a hasty retreat, usually where there was one wolf there was more.

In this case but one more. A bark echoed in the distance and a darker, rangier, yet slightly larger male came scrabbling through the underbrush.

The female turned abruptly and growled, her hackles rising, and the male wolf yelped, and cowered, exposing his underbelly in a gesture of submission. But the she-wolf would not be placated, and lunged at the male, seeming for a moment about to rip his throat out.

A classic drama of nature, only suddenly, the pieces fell out of place, the actors forgot their lines. Seeming unconcerned in the face of what should have been terrifying behaviour, the male wolf relaxed, letting his tongue loll out of the side of his mouth as he rolled over completely onto his back, all four paws in the air, laying perfectly still, looking for all the world like a domestic canine playing dead.

The golden wolf paused in her aggressive advance, emitting a series of high pitched yips, then rushed forward, not to finish what she had started, but to lick the dark male's face, whining almost apologetically.

With an answering whine, the male returned her attentions, lick for lick, nuzzling at her soft fur as though to immerse himself completely in her scent.

Playfully the two rolled together, wrestling on the snow-covered ground, sometimes licking, sometimes nipping and biting, barking, and yipping as though they were pups instead of full grown adults.

Their amusing antics continued for some time before the dark male suddenly broke away from the female and scampered out of reach, sitting down on his haunches with an almost mournful growl. The change happened very gradually. Outlines blurred, limbs lengthened, fur retreated to only a sparse scattering of hair over smooth, bronzed skin. Where there was once a wolf, there now sat a muscular, dark haired man, completely nude save for a heavy fur cloak bundled around his lean form.

His features were a mix of heritages, patched together in what could only be called an uneasy truce, slanted eyes, and delicately pointed ears announced a fair percentage of elven blood, while a beaky nose and thick eyebrows counterbalanced refinement with a heavy dose of earthiness.

No longer covered in thick, protective fur, apart from what was ineffectively draped over him, the half-elven man shivered, his breath escaping in huge, white clouds, heat quickly dissipating into the frozen land around him. He drew the cloak more tightly around his nakedness. Like the wolf of before, he was completely unperturbed as the she wolf he had been romping with dashed towards him, growling and barring her teeth. In fact, he was foolish enough to reach out, ruffling the golden head and scratching behind the pointed ears, as if the wild, snarling animal before him were no more than a cherished pet.

Or perhaps not so foolish, for, though the female wolf continued to growl, the man who petted her remained very much in one piece.

"N-now now, dear, playtime is over," he told the animal cajolingly. "At least for m-me..."

A sharp, ferocious bark cut him off, but failed to sway him.

"I know it n-never lasts as long as we would like, but the cloak is r-running out of charges. In fact, but one remains." Resolutely, the man got to his feet, which, like the rest of him, were bare. He cringed as he stepped gingerly through the snow, moving towards a tree at the edge of the clearing. A bundle was suspended from one of the lower branches, and he hurriedly untied it, his haste quite understandable, as dexterity becomes increasingly difficult in a hostile, winter climate. "Once we get b-back to the city I'll have to p-pay a visit to Sorcerous Sundries again and get Halbazzer to r-restore it."

Placing the bundle on a fallen log, he opened it, pulling out a pair of trousers which he quickly donned, leaping awkwardly from foot to foot. Socks and boots came next, followed by a warm woollen tunic. From beneath the log, he retrieved a giant two-handed sword, planting it into the ground in front of him, almost as a warning to anyone with less than noble purposes.

The warning, however, did nothing to deter the she wolf, who strode boldly towards the man, growling again.

"Jaheira, r-really..." the man chuckled. "I know you're r-reluctant to return to the city, as am I, b-but we g-gave our w-word to Alyndria that she could expect us near the end of the tenday. Must you b-be s-such a... well," he glanced down at the furry, lupine form before him with a mischievous yet shy smile, "bitch?"

In answer, the female wolf crouched, urinating, barely missing the man's boots as he lifted his legs out of the way with a yelp of startled disgust.

Having expressed her opinion in the strongest way possible, the she wolf, who, in fact was not a wolf at all, sauntered back across the clearing, pausing to look over her furry shoulder at the half-elven man in a way that could only be described as smug. Her bushy tail waggled saucily, and then the change came over her as well, leaving in its place a gloriously, unselfconsciously naked half-elven woman, with a lean, muscular form, and golden brown hair that trailed partway down her tanned back.

The cold didn't seem to bother her, or perhaps it was simply her pride that didn't let her hurry, because she made her way casually back towards where the male half-elf sat. Very casually, and very slowly, because his attention was riveted to her every move.

Taking advantage of the almost drooling daze of the man before her, she grabbed one of his slightly pointed ears, giving it a sharp tug, yanking him out of his reverie. "Don't you ever call me that again!" The laughing kiss she gave him, a moment later, however, told him that she was well aware he was joking, even though pride demanded at least a token revenge.

"It's well past noon," she observed, looking up at the sky once she had dressed. "I don't think we can make it back to the Gate before nightfall." She paused to regard the man who was still staring at her admiringly, and hardly less avidly despite her now clothed state. "Khalid?"

"Wha - Yes, love?"

"I said, I don't think we can make it back to Baldur's Gate tonight."

"Oh, I'm s-sorry..." the warrior laughed. "I m-must have m-missed that. I seem to have s-suddenly lost the hearing in my l-left ear."

"Very funny." Jaheira arched one bronze eyebrow and smirked. "You are fine, and you know it... it may be that I would have broken a lesser man by now, if I had wed with one, so many years ago, but you hardly fit that description."

Khalid blushed. "I am glad you c-continue to approve of me, wife."

"Oh yes," she whispered, "I do, very much, approve... Now, hand me that map Kivan gave us of the way cabins along the route. If I remember correctly, there is one not too far from here, where I might show you the exact extent of my... approval..."



Later, in a warm cabin, when both were undressed and stretched out in front of a cheery fire, the warrior scratched persistently at one armpit, eyeing the furry cloak suspiciously as it lay drying, draped innocently over a chair.

"Would you stop that?" Jaheira snapped playfully, slapping at his hand when it would have gone to scratch somewhere else. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you had contracted... oh, what did that old gossip in Ulgoth's Beard call it? The Calimshan Itch?"

Khalid flopped back on the rug, hiding his face with an embarrassed chuckle. "Of all the indignities, n-naming the latest venereal disease after my h-homeland..." He glanced towards his spouse with meaningful arch of one dark brow. "I am n-never going to live this down, am I?"

"It's not as if you've ever actually *had* it," Jaheira replied knowingly. "The fact wouldn't escape my notice, after all. And," she continued meaningfully, as he began unconsciously to scratch again, "for the last time, that cloak does not have fleas! Do you think Alyndria would have given us an anniversary present she believed was *infested*? The child would be mortified! No, on second thought, what would really mortify her would be the uses we have been putting it to."

Khalid resisted the impulse to scratch again, and rolled over onto his side, admiring the way the firelight danced over his wife's magnificent nude body. Even after more than twenty years of marriage, he still felt somewhat uncomfortable being naked simply for the sake of being naked. Of course Jaheira was beautiful, and he was not - had never been - especially sure of himself, or what she saw in him. All that he knew, thank the gods, was that she saw something and it appeared to please her. "Actually, y-you may be surprised... She gave me a m-most interesting look when I asked to borrow it, that first time."

Jaheira nodded. "True, yes, and then there were the dreams."

"D-dreams?"

"Dreams," she confirmed, a meaningful note in her richly accented voice. "Around about the same time, when she was feverish, remember? Not long after we returned from Balduran's Isle."

"You never said anything about dreams."

Jaheira nodded, and then winced. "And I probably shouldn't have now, but I know you'll not breathe a word of this to anyone. Let's just say I was no longer concerned after that point that all that time spent at Candlekeep had turned her into a sexless golem."

"Oh, I knew t-that a long time ago," Khalid replied smugly.

"If I were a more suspicious woman," Jaheira replied, giving him a grin, "you would have been skewered before you had a chance to explain that remark. But if I don't know you by now, I never will. So tell me, how came you by this... information?"

"Actually, p-perhaps I should be afraid to tell you," Khalid teased. "After all, you pride yourself on knowing the ways of Nature, and all Her delights, but she came to me first with her questions... It was just after we c-cleared the Nashkel mines."

"Ah," Jaheira nodded in instant comprehension. "That was when she hadn't yet come to appreciate my wisdom and gentle guidance."

"Gentle?" Khalid snorted. "If a thunderstorm could be called gentle, perhaps."

"I thought you always relished my particular brand of 'gentleness'..." The Druid replied wickedly.

Khalid widened his eyes in playful shock. "If *that* was the sort of gentleness you were trying to convey, it's no wonder the p-poor child was so c-confused about you."

"'Poor child', my arse!" Jaheira answered vehemently, before breaking down into laughter. "She won't get an ounce of pity from me, why, even from the earliest days she simply wouldn't let me..."

"'Gently guide' her?" Khalid offered, his face carefully neutral.

"...boss her around, that's what you were thinking," the Druid accused, eyes twinkling as she tried unsuccessfully to look annoyed.

"You said it," replied her husband tactfully, though not without a twinkle of his own. "N-not I."

"Bah!" Jaheira gave her mate a playful swat. "It's all the same to me, but that girl is Gorion all over again, albeit in a prettier package."

"And thank the gods for that," Khalid immediately answered, sighing with a relief that he couldn't stop feeling, despite the fact that they had been travelling together for most of the year. It had been with no small reluctance that he had faced his first meeting with his friend's adopted daughter. After all, it wasn't every day that a friend took the child of the dead Lord of Murder under his wing.

"For what? The package or Gorion?"

"Both, of course," the warrior replied, grateful that Gorion's guidance, coupled with Alyndria's somewhat miraculous inherent goodness had made the outcome far more pleasant than he had dared to hope. "When he wrote of her, his letters always seemed so fond, so absent of the... p-problems we had initially feared because of her heritage. I thought it was t-too good t-to be true. As for the package, well, can you imagine the lass with a face like Gorion's, especially without the luxury of growing a beard?"

Jaheira snickered again. "Jackrabbit!"

Khalid chuckled in turn, a sound that was faintly bittersweet, as was the smile that followed. "I would advise you not to speak ill of the dead, but it *was* the same way you used to speak of him when he was amongst the living. Besides, wherever he may be, I feel certain he is laughing with us..."

"Or plotting revenge?" Jaheira's laugh was faintly watery, and she wiped angrily at her eyes.

Khalid pulled her into his arms and the two lay there quietly, listening to the crackling of the flames as the silence lengthened around them. "Yes," he said finally, when he felt able to speak again, emotion steadying his voice where it would have stuttered another's. "I miss him, too."

"So back to the Gate tomorrow?" Jaheira asked, her tone brusque.

Khalid stroked her hair, knowing that she often felt compelled to disguise her softer emotions, despite the fact that she had never been able to hide much of anything from him. He played along, however, because, in truth, he was a little grateful for the distraction, himself. "T-tomorrow, I suppose, though I wish we'd had more time together..."

"We will have as much once we reach the city," Jaheira said, belying her earlier frustration at having to leave their sylvan paradise. "Alyndria doesn't seem inclined to move on, and I cannot say I blame her when there is no reason for it. These past months have been long and hard on us all, but finally that despicable man is dead and we shall never have to think of him again." She shook her head as if to clear it of the unpalatable image of Gorion's murderer, finally brought to justice, before returning the conversation to far more pleasant territory. "I must say that I will miss making love so close to Nature. I know you prefer a roof over your head, Khalid, but," her voice softened, "you are the only shelter I cannot live without."

"I will be your shelter," he promised, leaning in for a tender kiss. "Always. Just as you are mine."




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