Chapter 28. The Dromond

hey had sailed over the water as far as they could and now must transfer to a dwarven ice ship for the final leg of their journey to Droknar’s Forge.  Brigit watched Armand leap lightly from the galley onto the ice shelf.  He put her in mind of a beautiful stag; masculine, wild and graceful.  Each day she fell a little more deeply in love and she worried her obsessing over him would drive him away.  As it was, he sometimes seemed overwhelmed by her desire to be close to him.   

For a long time she had made the mistake of approaching love as she did battle.  Facing it head on, she moved quickly to gain the most strategic position and then went in for the conquest.  After this approach had failed her several times, she had become a little jaded.  Battles she could understand but the intricacies of love escaped her.  Her ardor caused men to flee.  Initially she gave chase, much as a predator instinctively launches after running prey.  Eventually she accepted that men were scared of her.

Brigit stood on the upper deck near the ornate prow of the dwarven ice dromond.  The broad vessel straddled the ice on a pair of runners and its towering flanks were riddled with yard arms and spars from which dozens of sails were soon to be hung.  As their belongings were hoisted up onto the ship, a half-dozen dwarves were crawling over the flanks of the great vessel in preparation for their departure as the evening wind began to flow off the sea.  Armand moved lightly up the rope ladder and swung over the low bulwark, bowing to the dwarven captain of the ship.  Intentionally, or through some error, the two of them had been assigned a berth together.  She suspected one of the crew of the Winds of Fortune had made the arrangements.

Curok Smelterthane, the ship’s purser, had already offered to show Brigit her shared quarters but she had refused, deciding she would rather Armand were present so she could gauge his reaction.  This was her first time aboard one of the legendary ice dromonds and she was very much looking forward to it.  Now that he was aboard, the purser bustled up to him and beckoned her to come.  She nodded, walking lightly over the gritted planking and ducking through the stout doorway that lead into the towering nest of rooms and storage areas.  Brackets holding glowing stones lit their way through the dim corridor as they wound upward and inward, each successive flight causing the living area to grow narrower.  To her surprise, they were near the copper-roofed top of the triangular wedge.  The purser handed them each a key and invited them to open the low door.  Armand turned his key in the lock and pushed the door inward, revealing a long slope-ceilinged room whose wall was pierced with a bank of high windows.  The result was intensely bright compared to the dim corridor.  Brigit was amazed by how the light gave the slender chamber a feeling of spaciousness so at odds with the usual cramped shipboard lodgings.  Their belongings had been carefully lined up at the fore end of the room while a sumptuous bed took up the aft end.  They had been granted a luxurious suite.

“Thank you,” she said in dwarven and the purser looked startled as he peered up at her over his spectacles.  His long white beard bristled as a smile lurked beneath it.

“You’re welcome, dwarf friend.”

“This is a beautiful room.”

“Provision was made for the best possible lodgings.  We gathered several dwarven beds to make a suitable nest for tall ones.”

Since this was the chamber at the highest point, the peak of the ceiling followed that of the roof so that she and Armand did not have to stoop as they did in the corridor.  There was even a small writing desk with a bench before it, a detail she assumed Armand would appreciate since mesmers apparently enjoyed such things.

“I love it,” she told the dwarf, “We will be very comfortable here.”

Armand glanced at her, apparently guessing what she had said for he flushed slightly behind his curtain of long golden hair.  The purser nodded respectfully and departed, closing the door behind him.

“It’s going to be nice to be away from all that rocking and swaying,” Brigit said, trying to avoid looking at the bed they would share.  Armand cleared his throat awkwardly, his visage turning an even deeper shade of red.  He was looking at the bed and she could not tell whether or not he was happy with the arrangements.

“I could leave if you want to rest a bit.  I’m curious how the boat moves and they’re getting ready to cast off.”

“It’s nice in here.  Warm,” he murmured, “Private, too.”

Brigit flushed now as she recognized the subtle turn of mischief upon his lips.

“I could stay,” she offered, worried about forcing herself on him.

“You could,” he agreed quietly.

“There is just one place to sit down besides the bed.”

“I think we should make sure the bed is… um… appropriate… since we’ll be stuck with it all night.”

Brigit nearly laughed, realizing he was teasing her.  Well fine, she could play that game, too.  She shrugged off her heavy outer cloak and draped it over the bench.  He stared at her as she slowly loosened the laces of her leather vest so that her breasts were no longer restricted and tumbled free beneath her blue woolen jumper.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said innocently, “Did you want to test it with clothes on?”

He swallowed and attempted to talk, then simply shook his head.  After sliding free of her boots, she loosened the lacing on her leather breeches and let them drop slowly to the floor so that all that remained were her clinging wool undergarments.  The wooden floor was clad in fur rugs, warm and sensuous beneath her feet.  Armand stood rooted to the spot, his hands clenched as he watched her release her hair and shake her fiery mane loose around her shoulders.

Brigit moved toward him, holding out her hand and gratified when he received it.  He was trembling but speechless and she worried for a moment he had retreated mentally in fear of her.

“You alright?” she asked gently, squeezing his fingers, “I can put my clothes back on and we can just lie together on the bed.  I’d like that just fine.”

“No… I like it,” he rasped.

“Anything else you’d like?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I wish I were better at this.”

“There isn’t anyone else I’d rather be with right now, my love,” she murmured, gratified when he closed his eyes blissfully as she stroked his face, “You must be doing something right.”

“I want you,” he breathed, “but I’m…  scared.”

Her vision blurred with tears of compassion for him.  What courage it must have taken to say those simple truthful words.

“I am, too.  I’m scared I’ll hurt you and then you’ll never let anyone love you the way you deserve to be loved.  It breaks my heart to think of you all alone in the world.”

“I love you,” he murmured, “I wish… I want to hold you.”

“If I do anything wrong, you’ll stop?” she asked gently, “Promise me.”

“I will,” he sighed as she pressed up against him and began releasing the little mother of pearl buttons on his waistcoat.  His clothing was delicate and sensuous, so unlike her coarse warrior gear that she delighted in undressing him as he showered kisses upon her crown and forehead.  She released the collar of his blouse and caressed the union of his collarbones with her tongue, working her way to the paradise of his lips.  They kissed and now he moved with urgency, nearly tearing his finely tailored clothes as he pulled free of jacket, vest and blouse.  His hands trembled upon her ribs as he urged her toward the bed.  She followed him down to the soft layers of blankets and cushions, a greedy trembling possessing her.

“Take me,” she gasped, “For the love of the gods, take me, now.”

He chuckled softly as he nuzzled her cheek.