Viper Madness · Part 1

Viper Madness · Part 1 (1/2)
Next

Viper Madness – An Elarra and Master Tilborn story.

“Look out, master!” Elarra pushed Master Tilborn aside, causing the viper to miss its strike. Annoyed, it drew back and stuck again, sinking its fangs into Elarra’s ankle. Or rather above her left ankle, just where the muscles of her calf began. The viper coiled once more, rather than slithering away like a cowardly villain ought to. Elarra had only sandals and garden gloves, but Master Tilborn had a hoe. He neatly separated the viper’s head from its body, as it attempted a third strike, and that was the end of the viper. Elarra wondered dizzily if it was the end of her, too. She felt suddenly cold despite the blazing midsummer sun. Except for her left leg, which burned hot.

Master Tilborn stood within arms reach, yet seemed miles away. “Let’s get you to– No.” Master Tilborn dropped his words and picked up Elarra, carrying her out of the half-weeded garden and into his halfling-house. Elarra considered the matter during that short trip. Master Tilborn was strong, for a halfling, with pink-brown skin, round human-style ears, and tough bare feet. He couldn’t have carried a human woman this way, but Elarra stood just slightly shorter than Master and wasn’t nearly as stout. She was a goblin-maid, with green skin, long ears, and green-black hair that Master Tilborn had insisted she grow out long as well. He could do that because she wore a slave collar.

The Furfoot Counties did not allow free goblins within their borders. Elarra’s garden gloves fell to the path. As Master Tilborn paused to open the door, she let her sandals fall as well. Master Tilborn always had Elarra wear sandals when outside, while making her go barefoot when indoors. So at least she was properly barefoot when he set her in the armchair. Master Tilborn gave her a wait-here look, and left to rummage in a cupboard. He returned quickly, with a vial of antitoxin and a wad of bandages. “Drink this,” he commanded, handing Elarra the vial, and she obeyed. The antitoxin didn’t taste quite as bitter as Elarra had imagined it would.

It made her calf bleed freely for a bit, forcing most of the venom out. Once the bleeding stopped, her left leg no longer felt like it was being roasted over a hot fire, and the rest of her stopped feeling like it had been dipped in a winter-frozen pond. She sat to let Master bandage her wound, and stood up to let him take her to the bedroom. He started to say something, but then allowed her to walk, rather than carrying her again. Now Elarra felt hot again, all over. Not roasted-hot this time, but feverish. She was grateful that Master Tilborn let her strip off her tunic-dress before making her lie down. She started to thank him, but he held a finger to his lips.

“I understand,” Master Tilborn told her. “I won’t let you hurt yourself. Now raise your hands above your head. Good.” He applied the ropes, tying her wrists well apart before moving down to tie her ankles. The concern on his face as he made her comfortably helpless showed that he really did understand. Elarra had heard that half of all humans suffered aftereffects when they took antitoxin. For halflings, the number was only one in six or seven. But goblins almost always suffered from a strange bout of brain fever as the antitoxin worked through their system. It was still much better than dying from poison – if the victim could be kept under control.

Elarra smiled as she quietly tested the ropes binding her wrists. Master Tilborn was very good at keeping her under control. The dwarf-clock in the parlor struck two. Master Tilborn pulled up a chair beside the bed. “Try to relax,” he told Elarra. “You’re going to be there for a while.” Elarra smiled. “Yes master, and I’m glad you’re here, too.” After a minute, Elarra tested her ankle-ropes, gently at first, and then more vigorously. She started pulling at her wrist-bonds as well. She loved Master Tilborn and wanted to show him her heart. There were knives in the kitchen; sharp knives she could use to show him her heart, and her bones, and all of her blood.

But his ropes had made her helpless. Completely helpless! He was watching her struggle helplessly against his ropes, but it wasn’t amusing him. It had always amused him before, so what was wrong? Something had to be wrong. Elarra subsided, panting. Master Tilborn stood and pulled the sheet over her, almost up to her neck. “It’s beastly hot,” he said, “but we still don’t want you getting chilled.” He sat back down again. “Let me know if you feel chilled. Or if you start to get too warm.” “Yes master.” Elarra stared at the ceiling, thinking about knives. A wave of embarrassment ran through her as she realized the madness of her earlier thoughts. Her ears grew hot and she felt her face flush.

It must be dark green now, with her mortification. “Nooo,” she moaned. “Hush,” Master Tilborn told her. “It’s just like a bad dream. It doesn’t mean anything, and you’ll have forgotten it by tomorrow.” “But there’s worse to come, master.” “Not worse. Just more.” Master Tilborn caressed her brow, and under her chin. Elarra could feel him fingering her collar. “They say no good deed goes unpunished, so this is your punishment for saving me from that viper. For which I thank you.” He kissed her, a lover’s kiss with his hands on her body and the familiar pleasant frustration of not being able to embrace him back. “Thank you,” he repeated.

“Now just lie there and try not to do anything.” Elarra went back to staring at the ceiling. For a time she forgot about the ropes on her wrists and ankles, but then she found herself growing more and more aware of them. Not that they bit into her skin. As always, Master Tilborn had made his ties firm and comfy. But if she tried to move, the ropes would stop her, proving her helplessness. She turned to thinking about Master’s kiss instead. It was too bad that she couldn’t have more of that medicine. # The cannibal pears in the pear pie were going to eat each other. Elarra had to stop them. She had to jump off the cliff at the sand quarry to stop them.

A fall of fifty or a hundred feet ought to be enough, or the pears would eat each other and make Master Tilborn sick. But Master Tilborn had chained her down, with chains that looked like ropes. Elarra struggled, trying to escape the chain-ropes. But of course she couldn’t. She couldn’t even find the key, or the keyholes. One of the cannibal pears was coming into the house. “Hallo!” it called. “Anyone home?” “In here!” Master Tilborn called over his shoulder. He could hear the pear too. Wait… Elarra stifled a groan. It had been a disturbing bad dream. Except for not being a dream. The ropes were Master Tilborn’s ropes, of course, tying her down to keep her from doing something… crazy.

She silently thanked the ropes, regretting that she couldn’t relax and enjoy them the way she usually did. The voice was Master Wil; Wilstan Sandyfields, one of Master Tilborn’s many cousins. “I expected to find you at the Jesting Goat. What are you doing here? Oh.” He stopped at the open door of the bedroom, taking in the scene. “It’s not that,” Master Tilborn said. “I had to give Elarra a swallow of antitoxin.” He explained about the viper, and about the peculiar effects of antitoxin on goblins. “That’s awkward,” Master Wil said. He stepped away, and Elarra heard him banging around in the kitchen. After a time he returned with a large and loaded tray.

He set a basin and a pair of ewers on the chest of drawers. “Here,” he told Master Tilborn. “I know you won’t leave your green-eared girl, so you can wash up right there.” As Master Tilborn washed, Master Wil moved the tray to the chair. He stood beside it, looking down at Elarra on the bed. Elarra looked back up, knowing that her eyes were bulging. Master Wil had disapproved mightily on Elarra’s arrival, calling her ‘green-eared’ and intending that as an insult. Then one day he had burst out that he wasn’t her master, so would she please stop ‘master-ing’ him every time she spoke.

After that, he still called her green-eared when he remembered to do so, but his heart didn’t seem to be in it any more. Now Master Wil produced a lopsided smile. “Here. You must be thirsty.” He poured a cup of water and held it for her. Elarra was thirsty, and Master Wil refilled the cup. “Thank you,” Elarra whispered. “Thank you. For keeping Coz Til from being vipered. You did good, and now you’re getting punished for it. Sorry about that, but – you did good. Those vipers like to strike twice, you know. So smile about it if you can, and get well. ” Master Tilborn reclaimed his chair, setting the tray on the floor. Master Wil told him, “You’ll need food. I’ll arrange something.

But for now I’ll leave you alone to cheer up your Elarra.” Elarra wasn’t sure if she saw Master Wil waggle his eyebrows during his last sentence. Master Tilborn had a better view of his cousin’s face. “You have a low mind, Wil,” he said. “Not like that,” Master Wil said as he retreated. “Not now. I mean you should show her you care by, you know, caring for her.” He shut the bedroom door. Master Tilborn sighed. “Cousin Wil does have a low mind, but he isn’t wrong.” He wet a bathcloth and began to wash Elarra. He washed her all over. It felt wonderful. Elarra purred, and Master Tilborn ended by rubbing her bare feet.

That felt just as pleasant as when he would tickle them silly, but in a completely different way. Elarra smiled, closing her eyes. The foot-rub ended – too soon – and Master Tilborn pulled the sheet back up to cover her nude body. The dwarf-clock struck three. Elarra wanted to whimper. Instead she asked, “How will you know when it’s safe to untie me, master? You’ll just know, won’t you?” That’s how they did things, back under Cheetpinkiz Mountain, but it didn’t always work out well. “It doesn’t work that way, or at least not very well,” Master Tilborn echoed Elarra’s thought. “There’s a test.

If you can roll your tongue, like this,” he demonstrated, “then the antitoxin has finished its work and is gone.” Elarra tried to roll her tongue, and failed miserably. “It’s too soon.” “Much too soon, I’m afraid.” Master Tilborn took Elarra’s bound right hand between both of his. “As Cousin Wil said, you’ll just have to endure and try to smile about it.” He sat back down to resume his watch over her. # Elarra never remembered, afterwards, the dwarf-clock striking four and five. She did remember, vaguely, the giant vinegar squirrels and the desperate need to get up and swallow a hot frying-pan. In fact, she was still flushed with embarrassment about that frying pan when the clock struck six.

A few minutes later a pair of female voices entered the halfling-house. Elarra recognized them as Myrtle Greenbluff, and Primrose Roothall. Mistress Myrtle was another cousin of Master Tilborn’s who, by a quirk of the family tree, was not a cousin of Master Wil. She was also a few years younger than Master Tilborn, and not yet married. Gray-haired Grantie Primrose, following Mistress Myrtle into the room, wore round spectacles that made her eyes look huge. She wasn’t related to any of her neighbors, but instead was the adopted aunt or great-aunt of everyone in the community. Even Elarra. The old halfling-woman had insisted, and Master Tilborn had ordered his slavegirl not to argue.

The two women carried in food. Mistress Myrtle set out scones and sausages, while Grantie Primrose supplied a bowl of fresh salad-greens and a jug of cold herb-tea. All three halflings helped Elarra sit up, tactfully not mentioning that they weren’t releasing her to feed herself. Master Tilborn did stroke her hair, half in apology and half in commiseration, after rearranging her wrist-tethers so as to keep her just as helpless in her new position. Elarra chewed a bite of scone and swallowed. It felt oddly pleasant to eat from Master’s hand this way, as if she were a wild thing that needed taming. But it would be more amusing if the situation wasn’t so serious.

She caught the look in Master’s eyes, and had to tamp down a smile. He felt the same way. The two halfling women sipped herb-tea and made conversation. After talking about the chances for rain, the various vipers people had found in their gardens over the years, and the possibilities of sewing a new dress next month, Mistress Myrtle told Master Tilborn, “You need to eat too. Just not too much, if you want to stay awake all night.” “Of course he does,” Grantie Primrose said. “Elarra did good, and Til isn’t one to forget that. Nor am I. Elarra, you hear that?

You did good, and you can take that to bed with you tonight, to set against this unpleasantness. ” “Yes,” Mistress Myrtle said to Elarra. “Thank you for watching out for Tilborn, and I’m sorry that you’ll be,” she hesitated over a word, “stuck in bed for a day. For a full twenty-four hours. That’s the way to be sure the antitoxin has worked its way out.” “Not the best way,” Grantie Primrose said. “There’s a better test than relying on a blind clock.” “The tongue-roll test?” Master Tilborn said after feeding Elarra a forkful of salad. She chewed and cocked her ears to catch the response. “That’s not a bad test, but I think the candle-charm is a better one.

Here, give Elarra a swallow of tea, and I’ll show it to you.” Elarra swallowed salad, and drank herb-tea from the cup Master Tilborn held for her. Grantie Primrose set a candle on the table beyond the foot of the bed, making sure it was placed where Elarra could see it. After lighting the candle, Grantie stepped aside and told Elarra, “Repeat after me: Gikil zigg zine urth!” Obediently, Elarra repeated the four strange words. The candle went out. “We’ll try again tomorrow,” Grantie Primrose said. “When the candle stays lit, we’ll know that it’s over.” “We should give them some privacy,” Mistress Myrtle told Grantie.

“It has to be embarrassing for Elarra when she has her fits, and we shouldn’t be making it worse by standing around to watch.” When the bedroom door closed, Elarra said, “I’ve had enough, master. You should eat too.” “Are you sure?” Elarra nodded. “All right. I’ll eat, and you can sit there and be bored.” Elarra smiled faintly at her owner’s faint joke and closed her eyes. She could still hear him eating. That was good. Just as Mistress Myrtle had said, Master Tilborn did need to eat to keep his strength up. She began to pull once more at the ropes holding her helpless. Quietly testing them, glad that they kept her from escaping.

Then that gladness stole imperceptibly away, and her struggles became more and more urgent. She had to get loose. She had to stick forks into herself, and then into Master Tilborn. She had to do this or they would both turn into dragons and fly away. Fly off to the Weeping Mountains and be dragons forever, and never ever be happy, ever again. Master Tilborn had set aside his plate and was now watching her struggle. Elarra wanted to beg him to untie her, but she didn’t dare. He wouldn’t believe her if she told him why she needed to be untied. He would think she was crazy. Because she was crazy. Elarra froze as that realization came crashing down upon her.

She was crazy and worse than crazy; she had wanted to hurt Master. And now he was caressing her ears in that way she found particularly pleasant. She began to weep. She didn’t deserve that. She tried to explain this to Master Tilborn, and it came out all garbled. “Hush. Hush,” Master Tilborn told her. “You don’t want to hurt anyone. You’re just blindfolded about what would hurt. It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault – except maybe the viper’s. It just means we need to keep you tied down for tonight, and that you have to obey me. Of course,” he added in a matter-of-fact tone, “you do have to obey me anyway. I bought you fair and square, and you are wearing that pretty collar.

Now I’m going to adjust your wrist-tethers to have you lie down again, and then I’ll read to you for a bit.” Master Tilborn suited actions to words, rearranging the pillows to make Elarra more comfortable. A few minutes later, she was listening to the story of Captain Fire, Prince of Pirates. # The adventures of Captain Fire held Elarra’s attention well enough that she only half noticed Mistress Myrtle coming in to remove the remains of supper. Likewise, she only half-noticed the invisible tiger, and the stone spikes that started to grow from the wallpaper. The water-wolves, however, came pouring in through the window only after Master Tilborn had set the book aside.

A whole pack of them, ready to drown her with their liquid teeth. Elarra had to leap out of bed and run. Run as fast as she could, to keep from sinking beneath them. But her owner’s ropes stopped her, holding her in place. So she fought against them. Fought as hard as she could. When the water-wolves vanished, Elarra found herself gasping for breath. Master Tilborn was watching her intently, leaning forward with a worried expression. “That wasn’t – so bad,” Elarra gasped, trying to reassure her owner. “Good. That’s good.” But Master Tilborn didn’t relax. He waited for Elarra to catch her breath, then ordered, “Close your eyes.” Elarra obeyed. She felt his hands untie her wrists.

“Master?” She kept her eyes closed. “I can’t roll my tongue yet.” “I won’t ask you to. I want you to roll over on your belly, instead. And put your hands behind your back.” Once again, Elarra obeyed. She felt Master’s hands, massaging her wrists, and rubbing her lower arms and her hands. Then came the touch of supple leather; a leather strap binding her wrists behind her. Different from the rope, but just as comfortable – and just as inescapable. Elarra sighed in contentment. Now Elarra felt Master’s hands on her ankles, removing that rope, soothing her legs and feet. Then more leather; straps going around each ankle in turn, tying them apart rather than together.

Well-secured once more, she kept her eyes closed. Master Tilborn moved around to briefly massage her shoulders and upper arms before helping her turn to her side, adjusting the pillows for her. “Rest now,” he ordered. “Sleep, if you can.” “Yes, master,” Elarra murmured. The dwarf-clock struck ten. # Elarra woke up, frozen with fear. Master Tilborn had turned down the lamp, and now he stood at the window, closing it. The weather outside had turned blustery, with the threat of rain. He returned to his chair by the bed. The leather straps still held Elarra’s hands behind her back. They still held her ankles, keeping her from either closing her legs or leaving the bed.

The slave-collar was still in place around her neck. Master Tilborn was still here, even if he looked tired. The dwarf-clock struck two. Master Tilborn usually kept it muted at night; Mistress Myrtle must have changed that. Elarra began to shiver, not with more fear, but with relief. It had just been a bad dream. That huge, unremembered black-blind horror had just been a bad dream. Master Tilborn hovered over her. “Did the clock wake you? You’re shaking, are you cold?” He felt her with the back of his hand. “No, you’re frightened.” “It was just a bad dream, master,” Elarra said as he shifted to sit on the bed. “Just a bad dream.” Master gathered her into his arms, and she melted in them.

Not with madness, but the way she always did when he held her like this. She made her usual small happy-sound, and he tightened his hug. She stopped shivering, but she could still sense his worry. “It was just a bad dream, master,” Elarra said again. “I think the worst is over now.” “Can you roll your tongue yet?” Elarra tried. “Not yet, master,” she admitted. “But things could be worse.” A scene arose in her imagination, of Master Tilborn being bitten by the viper. Of the viper striking him a second time, putting him beyond the help of antitoxin. She shivered again. Master Tilborn was silent for a bit.

At last he said, “I wouldn’t call it worse if I’d been bitten instead of you.” Another hesitation. “What would have been worse is if we’d both been bitten by that blasted viper. That would have been worse.” He gave her another squeeze. “It’s bad enough that you have to go through this rough time. But you will get better, and I won’t let anything happen to you while you do.” “Is that a command, master?” Master Tilborn smiled. “Yes, my emerald beauty, that’s a command.” He kissed her, and his right hand gave Elarra a teasing reminder of her of her complete nakedness. Then he sighed.

Viper Madness · Part 1 (1/2)
Next