“What babe?” he blurted, looking kind of lost as puppet goblins began to sing along to the rest of the song and the place exploded into a wild dance scene. Cracking up, I tossed my cane and began to dance along. I looked good in my little tight pants, tall black boots, puffy white shirt and vest, man. Rocking it, I sang along and danced around my mate, who was staring after me like I’d just invited him to an acid trip.
I’d have to invite him to a movie marathon of my favorites if this was how we were to start spending our nights.
Shrugging, he stripped out of his coat, chucking it into the singing crowd as an owl swooped overhead and the next song started, and joined me. We danced that magic dance until it was his turn to show me something fun.
∞∞∞
The Helm was not a place in Mordenne, and not exactly within the dream realm, he informed me as he pulled me through our dreamwalkings and straight into a place unlike anything I’d ever thought I could dream up. Segrid had created this in between place with his magicks, a realm within a realm, a dreamlike state place within his sanctuary, just for us. The Helm itself was a den-like place underground, a series of tunnels that Segrid invited those that were better suited to a life beneath the hubbub of above could find solace. They called him their King because he was the gatekeeper, the enforcer of his domain, and only those he allowed may enter or stay. He was fair, compassionate, no one creature that resided here had a single bad thing to say about their protector.
Dwarves and Ogres mostly, a few Gnomes, Kobolds, called the tunnels home. It was a small but tight community. Breaking the veil, until we were literally inside the caves of The Helm, deep inside them, my dreams turned into a strange, fantastical reality.
“My King, my Queen,” a Dwarf praised as we passed.
“I feel underdressed,” I whispered, glancing down at the cartoon beagle and little yellow sparrow on my dress of a nightshirt and the thick comfy socks on my feet.
Troll wasn’t much better in a spare set of pants he’d had to scrounge from his quarters on our arrival. Our quarters, I corrected, curving my hands tighter around his arm.
“You are glorious, my Queen. We do not stand on ceremony here,” he insisted, to a round of loud, echoing, “Ayes!”
When I paused to admire a pretty purple set of scarves that matched Segrid’s eyes at one of the alcoves full of artisans mostly, doing what they seemed to love in their solitude, the Ogre spinning the intricate fibers offered to trade me my socks for the scarves. Huh. Fine with me in the cool of the room, I slid my socks off, handing them over as she looped the scarves over my neck, and our exchange was done. She was so pleased to slip the socks on her feet, I made a note to bring more when we came down to trade with her again. Gifts were seen funny to Ogres. Trading was their language, Segrid had versed me.
Segrid glanced at me, his eyes glowing as the Ogre woman fussed with her used sock trade. He stopped to chat briefly with the Dwarf working in an earthen pit of a metal working shop. Coming back with something in his hand and a secretive smile twitching his lips, he settled my hand on his arm, grinning down at my bare feet, and we continued on.
“I do not chill easily.” Segrid said as he exited Helm via a portal looking door that let out of an old oak that dumped into the backyard area of his house. “I had not thought Dagmar would wish such things. She needs but ask and someone would acquire these things for her but she does not always trade amongst Ogres. We are all, of The Helm, a prideful lot.”
“You don’t say?” I said with a shrewd look his way.
He laughed, the sound long and loud. “Come, my beloved, and I will feed you. What is it you desire?”
About to snark something back, I peeked over at him curiously. “You wouldn’t happen to have any of those sun butter and bacon sandwiches and tea, would you?” I murmured hopefully, closing the back door behind me as we entered his cottage.
I realized then, I’d been in my Human form this entire time. Elation filled me. It was like a record for me or something. I also noted, I hadn’t been stressing about any of it, or much of anything. Segrid did this for me.
“I have eaten nothing but since our parting,” he admitted.
“Oh… do you want something else then? What do you have? I can help.” Walking up behind him, I wrapped my arms around his thick middle.
His arm lifted and he peered at me from under his thick bicep. “What does my sunshine wish to dine on?” he murmured, his gaze slipping towards the bed and the furs to drop back on me.
“Food first,” I said with a grin, “then we can f-” I froze as the thought occurred to me. “Uh… can we,you know, without me getting all,” my fingers lifted to wriggle, “power siphon-y on you?”
“I suppose we will have to find out,” he teased.
The blood drained from my face and I gulped. Was he just saying that? Or was he simply teasing.
“You have claimed your Ornthren. I only meant to tease you, my heart. I am safe from your siphoning draining me, unless we should both allow it,” he assured me.
“Promise?” I mumbled, lifting up to mash my face into his wide back as he began gathering meat and cheese, nuts, bread, bacon, sun butter, apples, an avocado, pickles, all of the fixings for an odd but enticing feast. Finger foods and sandwiches.
“This looks like a feast fit for a preggers chick,” I noted. Several awkward, shuffling steps and a Troll laughing his butt off as I held onto him and he had to peel me off of his delicious smelling hide to plop me into his lap, situating me as he sat us at the table, and we were well on our way.
In my Troll King’s lap, I stole his tea to smirk around the rim of his cup, waggling my brows at him as he chuckled at my antics. Picking up a small baby dill pickle, I popped it into my mouth.
“My mistress, Katarina, says that is a myth, and that these foods are all the best, and her male is missing out. I find I agree,” he murmured, popping another sandwich half into his mouth. Finishing chewing and swallowing his bite, he asked, “I take it then that these are not normal food groupings for an average Human?”
“I dunno about average, but you won’t hear zip from me, bub,” I said with a shrug. My leg began to swing back and forth as I picked up an apple slice and slathered it with sun butter. “Can’t say you’ll be wanting to take me to bed if any of this makes me all gassy. I’ll be fun to live with then,” I said around my bite, snorting.
“We are feasting on the same things,” he said with a lift of his shoulders. Peering at me, his lips twitched as he remarked, “The same would be right, going with you.”
