Private Tales Naked and Alone..ish

[Míriel Fëanorna]

"Animals are smarter than you think."

A soft noise of agreement came from the back of her throat. Something that they actually saw eye to eye on, what a novelty. She chose to ignore his other comments entirely as though she hadn't heard them or had not understood them; for most elves either was probably common especially amongst her people. They didn't tend to socialise often with outsiders and humans were an odd curiosity. Male humans even more so. Amongst her people it was the women who were the fighters, the providers, the ones who governed. Seeing a man who was those things from the outside was like seeing a pink horse.

Her eyes flickered to the side where there was a chair next to his bed. On top of it someone had piled his clothes, freshly washed and mended. Next to it rested the blade.

"We have a custom here that once a sword is used by someone it belongs to them," her eyes studied him quietly for a moment. "It seems the sword has chosen to stay with you."

 

[Jorg]

"Ah. Excellent." So he was going to get out of this with something after all.

If he was going to get out of this at all.

They expected him to need to heal for six weeks. If his own estimations were correct it would take two. Miriel was already beyond suspicious, and if she noticed his faster rate of healing...well the questions would likely come less politely.

He had to get himself out of here before that could happen. "Thank you."

Jorg offered her with a smile, running a hand over his beard for a moment.

"What about a Razor?" He asked. "I think I could do with a bit of a shave."

Right now he just wanted her out of his hair. He didn't like the way she looked at him, it was like she was constantly studying him in an attempt to catch a lie.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Those calm and piercing eyes glanced down over the beard which he stroked and then inclined her head slightly.

"I will have it brought in," she seemed to hesitate for a moment and then decided against whatever it was she was going to say before moving off as if to leave. When she reached the door she paused once more.

"You know, not everyone in this world believes monsters are there to be slain," then she seemed to nod to herself and continued on her way.

It was a week before the healers allowed Jorg out of bed at all. Though they were impressed with how quickly he was coming along the elves were not used to having to look after humans and so were approaching the whole thing with caution rather than how they would send their own home with worse injuries. But once he was given the stoic nod he was given free reign of the city. Whenever he got close to a boarder one of the sentries would gently turn him back around with a shake of the head; it seemed everyone had heard of the human staying with them.

 

[Jorg]

Jorg gave the woman a sidelong glance, a frown pulling at his lips for a brief ment before he shrugged his shoulders. "To each their own."

Was the only answer she would receive.

The weariness he'd built up over the last five years had made him cautious, careful. A few nice words words weren't enough to bring out the truth from him, not by far. It was only when Miriel left that he let himself relax, eyes closing as he spoke with the Wolf lurking in the back of his mind.

A week, as it turned out, passed very slowly when you couldn't do anything but flirt with unresponsive nurses and think about things.

It was a welcome reprieve when the doctor finally told him he could at least wander the city. Of course Jorg used the opportunity to immediately scope out escape routes.

As it turned out though escape wouldn't be half as easy as he hoped. Every gate was guarded and those Guards had their heads up at all times. They were smart, careful, and watched everything that moved like a hawk. He even once tried to slip over one of the walls only to be caught by an incredibly beautiful woman in silvery armor. When she stopped him he'd made a joke about finding his dignity, and to his surprise she'd actually laughed.

It had been about the only good moment of his time here so far, and it was only an hour or so later that Jorg found himself sitting in the middle of what he could only describe as a park.

The sword he'd been given was resting in front of him, and he restlessly batted the handle between his hands.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Jorg had created quite the stir in the city.

Everywhere Miriel seemed to go her Sisters were talking about the man who had slayed a whole nest of Waywatchers. The elf rolled her eyes and debated ruining the gravitas he was building for himself by telling them the truth of what had happened; pure damned luck. She was more concerned with the fact the sentries seemed to find it highly amusing he was trying to slip past their guard and leave. For a city built upwards rather than outwards it was a hard feat to pull off and many of the women had begun their own small bet about the next method he would try.

She really hoped that Leona was not correct and he would attempt to swing like some sort of ape through the treeline.

The warrior had been walking with one of the younger trainee warrior when she had spotted Jorg in the gardens underneath the Soul Tree. She had sent the young girl running off to go find amusement with her friends before picking her way over to him. She was dressed once more in the simple leather armour designed for the heat of the jungle. Her fingers drifted over the hilt of one of her blades as she approached and stopped in front of him.

"How are you finding the city, Jorg son of Jorg?"

 

[Jorg]

Oh great her again.

"Oh it's fantastic." Fantastically well guarded unfortunately. His fingers danced for a few seconds over the hilt of the sword.

It was strangely comforting to hold the weapon. Even though he had not forged it himself there was an odd sort of kinship with the sword that made him feel as though he at least had some control of what was happening around him. It was a lie of course, these women could slaughter him in an instant if they really wanted to. A thought he had considered more than once.

"It's very hard to concentrate though." He said. "So many beautiful women around I have to keep running away just go get some peace."

His head shook. "Good thing this place is so secure otherwise I might have ended up back in the jungle."

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miriel gave him that signature half smile and then settled herself down opposite him, crossing her legs and resting her blades across her thighs.

"That would be a real shame, my Sisters would miss you greatly. You are proving to be a great source of entertainment for everyone," her eyes roved up the tree behind him as she spoke as if looking for something in the branches. "Leona in particular seems to find you charming," though she couldn't figure out why the woman with armour she had crafted from starlight would find a human like Jorg so interesting. It had been a long time since she had left the Jungles, perhaps she had simply forgotten what humans could be like.

"How are your injuries coming along? Healer Naeve said you were healing much faster than she believed humans healed," her eyebrow rose slowly.

 

[Jorg]

Leona huh? He would have to remember that name. Maybe she could provide a little bit of a distraction in his aimless. Plus if he whispered the right thing perhaps she'd let something slip about a secret way out.

Yes that was a good idea, no way it could how wrong.

When Miriel continued to press, his lips thinned. He had to resist the urge to just scream in her face, mostly because he felt it would actually help his case in the least. She was as a suspicious as a cat who was sure she'd found a fish. "Boy you are just full of curiosity aren't you."

Jorg said as he let out a breath and leaned back against the tree.

"When was the last time Naeve treated a human?" He countered. "She probably just forgot."

A shrug rolled over his shoulders. "Besides, the faster I heal the faster I can get to trade dealing and I'll be out of your hair."

He wondered if his father had gotten that letter yet.

Jorg hoped not

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

The smile Miriel gave him hinted at the fact she knew something he didn't. Something he wasn't going to be happy with. In the meantime however she considered everything he said as if it were a serious conversation.

"Not in a few millennia, perhaps you are right," but Miriel had lived amongst them for two centuries now and she had never seen a human without magic heal that fast. She plastered a look of innocent curiosity on her face instead and leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees and her chin on the back of her hands.

"So how quickly do humans heal, so I know when of course I'll be getting you and your father out of my hair?"

 

[Jorg]

Instantly Jorg's expression dropped.

His face paled, pupils shrank to pin pricks, and his mouth gaped open. "My father?"

Oh dear fuck no.

No. No no no. Nope.

There was no way. She was fucking with him. Had to be. His mother would sooner die than leave Mallian, and there was no way in the nine hells that his father would ever go anywhere without his mother.

There was no way.

"What do you mean?" Her other question was utterly forgotten.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

The smirk deepened until her eyes were practically glowing with the amusement. She could hear his pulse rate spike, could see the slight sheen of sweat that was beginning to coat his skin as panic seized him. She continued her innocent act and twirled a finger through her hair.

"Well your father was quite surprised - and concerned you understand - to hear his son was talking trade deals with the elves of the Wilds and so my mother extended him the courtesy of coming to visit us to make sure you were recovering as you should be, and well," she sighed. "Gosh, she didn't want me to tell you this so it was a surprise! But your father and mother are coming to join us here - today in fact," she cupped her face in the perfect picture of joy.

"Who could have known your mother had once read stories about us and wanted to see the tribe of women she dreamed of running off and joining when she was little."

 

[Jorg]

Well that was simply impossible.

The only thing that his mother had ever dreamed about was marrying a rich man and living the rest of her life in a palace.

The words for a brief few seconds made him wonder if Miriel was telling a complete lie...but there was something in her eyes that made him think not. His father, did care about him. He'd wanted Jorg to come home for years now and if he received word that he was here. A frown touched his lips and he tried to remember how long he'd been unconscious.

Something clicked in his head. "Fuck."

In that moment it all came crumbling down. If his father was coming, which he probably was if he knew where Jorg was, then his mo was coming too. If his mother was coming then she would have a bride in tow for him so she could finally have the grandchildren she always craved.

That was all that mattered to her. Her lineage, wealth, and power secured.

"Okay I'll level with you." He said quickly. "Get me out of here before they show up and I'll tell you everything
"

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

"What, and miss the familiar reunion?"

Miriel wanted to know the truth but making him squirm was more fun. There was no way she was going to let him get out of this even if she had to babysit him herself.

Not that either of them had the time should they have wanted to. A shout went up from a scout and Miri's ears twitched as she listened to the words passed between the elves who were running on the bridge above them between the trees. Then in the distance a horn blew. Miri glanced back to Jorg with the biggest smile she could image.

"Looks like they're here!" she scrambled to her feet.

 

[Jorg]

For a brief moment Jorg considered taking the sword in his hand and just ending it all.

If he hadn't already attempted it years ago and been stopped by the Wolf he actually might have. The horns went up, and he felt his stomach drop. A low groan escaped him, hands coming up to rub at his face. Eyes glanced quickly towards Miriel, and then in the other direction.

She was looking towards the horns, perhaps if he just.

Slowly Jorg pulled himself up, using the sword as a sword of crutch to quickly behind to hobble on the other direction. He wasn't very past, but he was quiet. Probably not quiet enough to avoid the notice of an elf but he had to at least try.

Of course just outside the city, on the way through the Wilds was a massive procession from Mallian.

A hundred retainers surrounded both Jorg's father and mother, as well as a large retinue of support staff. The soldiers wore an odd armor of quick overlapping plates, segmented like the shell of a carapace, their helmets almost insect like as well. Each carried a long Lance with an axe upon it, clearly made for fighting more than men.

In the center of the procession sat a lithe hawkish woman on a horse, and besides her was a portly man that appeared almost exactly like Jorg save a hundred pounds and fifty years added.

Jorg tried his best to get away.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miri was about to say something over her shoulder about over compensating when she noticed him trying to make his way off in the opposite direction. She gave a laugh under her breath and then walked after him. At his limping pace it was quite easy for her to catch up, loop an arm around his shoulders and gently spin him back around in the opposite direction.

"it's ok, I know it's very confusing to navigate around here when you don't know where you are going. This is the quickest way back so we can go greet your parents," she gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze and another bell like laugh peeled from her lips.

It didn't take them long indeed to make their way back to the building where she had first brought Jorg bound in ropes and naked as the day he was born. Her mother stood on the steps already and when she spotted Miriel she inclined her head slightly to indicate she should join her on the steps. Naturally she tugged Jorg along with her so they could watch the procession come to a stop.

 

[Jorg]

"I'm going to eat you." Jorg whispered quietly, so silent that even Miriel wouldn't hear him. Then he began to wonder what Elf tasted like.

There were a few times after he'd woken up where he could still taste whatever the wolf had eaten. Most of the time it was animals. Goats and Cows were popular, but more than once the taste of human flesh had still been on his tongue.

Never elf though. This might be a golden opportunity.

Soldiers slowly parted, and Jorg began to cringe on the inside as he saw his father dismount the horse he'd been on. The old man had never been all that graceful, holding none of Jorg's natural talent. His mother on the other hand slid from her horse with all the grace of a Queen.

Both of them walked slowly up to the steps, his father's face lighting up as soon as he saw Jorg.

"MY DEAR BOY!"​

There was an utter lack of decorum.

"HOW I'VE MISSED YOU! IT"S BEEN SO LONG!"​

His mother stayed absolutely silent, her gaze fixed on Jorg as if she were appraising a prize pig that was to be sold at market. "Hello Father, Mother."

He wanted to scream.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

If it hadn't been clear where power lay in Órënya before then it was very clear when Faylen stepped past the king without much of a second glance and greeted the Queen instead. Though perhaps not in the way of human Queens. The Warrior House Mother put a fist over her heart and bowed smartly at the weight. She was dressed in her golden elvish armour that sparkled as brilliantly as the sun and looked as though it had been melted over her so seamlessly it moved with her, so light it looked.

"Welcome to Órënya, we are glad to receive you all here," though she spoke quietly her voice resonated throughout the square such as it was and down the length of the procession. "I am Faylen, this is my daughter Miriel," she took a half step backwards and motioned back towards the younger elf stood who bowed in the same manner. Miri couldn't help but think how wild her people looked compared to the stiff costumes of these people. She wondered how they even coped with the heat.

Her eyes flicked to Jorg and gave him a small smug smile.

 

[Jorg]

Jorg was too busy in his own world to really understand what was happening. He still thought about making a break for it, thought about whether or not it might be a good idea to just run off now and see what would happen.

His fingers tightened for a moment, then he heard his mother speak.

"Thank you for you Gracious Welcome."​

That voice was like nails on a chalkboard to him, and Jorg couldn't help but slowly turn his head. His mother was smiling at him, and for the first time he saw a woman stand behind her. She was stunningly beautiful, blonde hair and with a face that could stun a mountain.

Pinpricks crawled over his body.

"Yes, thank you, and thank you for saving my son."​

The Duke did not at all seem annoyed or even perturbed at not having been addressed, infact, he seemed almost like he was used to it.

It was then that he noticed it.

The sensation crawled up his spine like ice. Primal, bestial. It was there. Just like it always was a day or so before. How long had he been in that bed? It couldn't have been time already...No...his lips thinned and he felt his heart thundering in his chest.

Jorg very nearly took a step back.

"We have so much to discuss my Son, so much, and of course with you as well."​

His mother bowed her head as she regarded the Elf Matron. Jorg barely heard her.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Faylen merely smiled and inclined her head before turning elegantly on her heel and walking back towards the grand structure in a manner that indicated they should follow. Miriel peeled into the line after the three leaders so that she stood awkwardly in the middle between Jorg and the other young woman who had been brought with them. She wondered briefly if they were related but there was definitely nothing familial about the two and she tried to not snigger at the fact they had brought him a bride.

Not that their elven city wouldn't make the most beautiful of wedding locations.

Faylen led them inside and instead of through the maze of corridors took them through a simple door and up a set of stairs that looked as though they were built into the trunk of the tree itself. It curved up the hollowed out trunk and then came out onto a second tier quite some way up. The platform was laid out beautifully with a long table and enough chairs for their intimate retinue to join them. It was entirely outside and yet there was nothing nearby and the way the balcony was built meant that nobody from the ground would be able to see them either. It was perfectly private whilst also affording their guests stunning views.

Faylen sat at one end with Miri to her right.

"Please, sit," there was a harp player in the corner who struck up a tune as they entered and a sever moved gracefully from guest to guest to offer them a glass of wine. "I feel I must start by saying your son has done us a great service in helping Miriel rid us of the Waywatchers nest."

 

[Jorg]

"Ah! That's my boy! He always was a fighter, weren't cha Jorgy?"​

There was a glee in his fathers eye, pride most people would call it. His mother however clearly did not approve, her lips thinned for a few seconds and her head shook.

Jorg for his part remained silent, his face pale and sweat beading on his brow. His mind was elsewhere, trying to calculate days, form an idea of just when things would happen. His thoughts were so far gone that he barely heard his mother speak.

"Yes. We are very proud. Which is of course why we were so concerned, but I believe it is time he came home. A match must be made for Marriage."​

Jorg's head whipped to his mother, his lips turning blue.

"Though...an idea comes to mind that may solidify this friendship Jorg has so wonderfully begun to forge. Your daughter, is she betrothed?"​

The wolf in his head laughed.

He had never heard it laugh before.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Jorgy.

Well that was definitely a nickname that was going to stick, Miriel mused as she took a sip of her wine. Her eyes flicked briefly to the blonde who had sat herself next to Jorg and opposite Miriel and who was trying to catch the young mans eye. It was quite heartbreaking to watch really for he truly did not seem the slightest bit interested. She had been about to try and engage the poor girl in a bit of conversation when she too caught the woman's words.

"Wh-argh," Miriel thumped her hand on her chest as she choked on the wine she had been drinking. Faylen gave her daughter a mild look of disapproval and yet amusement but Miri didn't see it. Her head had snapped in that direction, her almond shaped eyes widening incredulously. She was over 200 years older than this woman and yet she thought to make her a piece of the negotiations. Her head turned quickly back to her mother for some sort of protection.

"She is not," Faylen sounded.... not angry which was a worry. Pure fear gripped her and she stared across at Jorg as if demanding he do something. "But, here we do not tend to marry unless we wish it. Jorg would have to win young Miri's heart."

 

[Jorg]

Jorg stared at Miriel, a hard look. There was no concern to it, no worry, just pure and palatable fear.

She would be able to see the tinge of yellow in his iris' the odd slit his pupil had formed into. The way he stared at her was almost...dangerous. Fingers were scrunched into fists, and then slowly he pulled his gaze away from hers.

"Ah I see. Well, I'm sure ou-"​

Jorg cut into his mothers words. "Excuse me."

The words were so curt and quick that no one even really had time to object. Jorg stepped away, quickly moving to the path where they had come from. His movement was still slow, but his mother did not move to stop him.

There was an army of elves around him and a hundred and fifty retainers below. Where was he really going to go?

He didn't have to be there for negotiations.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Whatever worried Miriel had had disappeared when she caught the shift in colour and the change in his pupil. Her lips thinned in to a flat line and even as Jorg was rising so was she. If he shifted here there would be a problem for all of them but mainly her people and that was where her concern truly lay. She might have been more open minded but her Sisters would kill him on sight if he started rampaging through the streets.

"Excuse me too, please," her mother looked actually surprised for once but she didn't have time to give it much thought and instead made her way smartly after Jorg. There was some quip followed by laughter she couldn't make out about lovers but she paid it no heed. Once they were on the stairwell she was running to catch up.

"This way," she didn't give him much time to argue as she took his hand and led him through the warren of corridors. After a while they changed from the peculiar materials the elves had used to make their homes to wood and then there were a set of doors. Miri pushed it open revealing the open forest beyond through a curtain of weeds. She tore a few out of the way and tugged him into the open. Patrols still ran by here and Miri was quick to move him on through the rest of the city until they did finally slip past the last of the scouts.

"Jorg, you need to tell me, what strain is it?" she had known some wolves who could still control themselves, other who became monsters, and some in the middle.

 

[Jorg]

"You need to get me the fuck out." There was a bitten edge to his voice, the question she asked him ignored as he put his hand on a nearby tree.

A shiver ran through his body suddenly a crack resounding out as one of his bones snapped itself and then healed itself in a near instant. A low groan of pain escaped him, his jaw setting hard as he turned around and looked at Miriel.

"I don't know." He bit off the words quickly. "The Wolf won't hurt anyone, not here."

His teeth snapped shut. "We have a deal."

There was strain to every word, but it was clear that Jorg was quickly sliding into something not very like himself. He looked up at her, one eye normal, one eye all but consumed by the wolf.

"Can't let my parents see." He told her. "Need to get out."

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Concern was written clear as day across her face, perhaps surprisingly. She winced at every snap of bone and odd jarred movement, practically hopping from one foot to the other as she waited to hear what he needed so he could provide it. It would be a nightmare to get him out of the city on foot.

"Alright... can you... hold it in for a few more minutes?" it felt like asking a woman to hold in her baby when it was very clearly on its way. She grimaced and then she took his hand and pulled him on through the city. They moved quickly, pausing only now and then as Miri counted in her mind and waiting for the guard to pass like clockwork before moving them on. They were at the stables within a minute.

"I know I said that was the last time but we need you," the stallions ears were flat, his nostrils flaring. In fact all the horses were skitterish as Jorg appeared. But her brave horse reluctantly followed the elf who had raised him since birth and she helped Jorg onto his back before vaulting on herself. There was no saddle but Miri wrapped her arms around his waist and gripped onto the stallions mane as he broke into a run out and up into the sky before a shout could be heard.

They swept out and over the city further and further until they reached the river where the black winged horse finally dipped and touched down on the river bank.