Viper Madness · Part 2 (2/2)
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“I had better have you lie down again, before I’m tempted into doing something foolish.” He settled her again, pulling the sheet over her body and adding a comforter on top. As Elarra drifted off, she regretted that Master was right: It would be foolish for him to exhaust her; it would delay her recovery. But those hugs and kisses felt so good. She wanted more of them. # Elarra woke again when the dwarf-clock struck six. Master Tilborn still sat beside the bed, looking tired and no longer able to hide it. The leather straps were still there, too. Elarra secretly tried a tongue-roll.
It wasn’t successful, and from Master Tilborn’s smirk, it wasn’t quite as secret as Elarra had intended, either. A hot frying pan came bouncing into the room. “You didn’t devour me yesterday,” it complained. “I’m sorry,” Elarra told the pan. “I wasn’t that hungry.” “Humph,” the frying pan said. It frowned at her, despite having no mouth to frown with. Then, with a sudden grin, it began to dance and sing. Its song was a humorous one, a bawdy version of ‘The Merry War.’ Elarra felt her ears grow hot even as she suppressed her giggles. When the song ended, Elarra wanted to applaud. It would be rude not to applaud. But her hands were still bound behind her.
She pulled at Master Tilborn’s leather straps, finding her helplessness both frustrating and pleasant. She struggled harder. “What is it this time?” Master Tilborn asked her. The frying pan was no longer there. Because it had never been there. Elarra explained that imaginary pan and wanting to applaud it, skirting over the bawdiness of its song. “You didn’t want to do anything drastic, to save me from this dangerous frypan?” Master Tilborn asked. Elarra shook her head, and Master Tilborn leaned forward to caress her ears in that way she liked so much. She closed her eyes, smiling. “I think you are getting better.” He touched her slave-collar.
“I’m still keeping you tied down, though, until you stop imagining things.” “I still can’t roll my tongue, master,” Elarra admitted. Master Tilborn started to say something more, but at that moment they heard the front door open. “Hullo?” came the voice of Grantie Primrose. “Are you awake?” “We both are!” Master Tilborn called over his shoulder. A minute later, Grantie appeared in the doorway, looking rather damp and carrying a covered basket. “It’s wet and nasty this morning,” she said, “and I left my cloak to drip in your front hall. I brought you a little breakfast to keep your strength up. There’s hard-boiled eggs, and jam, and I’ll make you some toast.
Myrtle banked the kitchen fire, last night, so it should be quick to stir up again.” So once more Elarra ate from her owner’s hand. “You’re getting better,” Master Tilborn told her again, “but I’m still not untying you.” “I know.” Elarra smiled. “Thank you, master.” “You’re welcome.” Master Tilborn smiled back and fed her another bite of egg. When they finished their eggs, Grantie Primrose brought in a tray with hot toast and hot tea. Real tea, rather than herb tea, imported from the far-lands of the East. Master Tilborn held the cup for Elarra. Grantie left them to it, puttering about the hobbit-home before returning with a pitcher and a clean basin.
“Rainwater for washing up,” Grantie Primrose explained. “And for keeping awake. I hope you didn’t eat too much; if you did, you’ll have to miss your second breakfast.” She took the empty teacups, peering into each of them in turn before setting them on the tray. “I’m seeing a lovers’ spat, and someone being laughed at.” She turned a stern gaze on both Elarra and Master Tilborn, her eyes seeming even larger than usual behind her spectacles. “You’re both of you tired; more tired than you think. If you listen to me, you’ll forgive and forget any unpleasantness.” “We’ll do as you say,” Master Tilborn said meekly. He looked at Elarra and then at the unlit candle, still on the far table.
Grantie Primrose exchanged a glance with Elarra. “All right,” she told Master Tilborn. “We’ll try the candle-charm again.” She lit the candle and had Elarra repeat the four strange words. “Gikil zigg zine urth!” Elarra recited obediently. The candle guttered and went out. “Well!” Elarra said, more cheerfully than she felt. “At least we know it works.” “Yes,” Master Tilborn said. “At least we know it works.” He gave the old halfling-woman a seated bow. “Thank you.” “Yes,” Elarra agreed. “Thank you for everything, Grantie Primrose.” “You’re both very welcome.” Grantie took up her now-empty breakfast basket.
As she left the bedroom, she called over her shoulder, “Remember what I said about forgiveness!” # Master Tilborn gave Elarra another cloth-bath, not quite as pleasant as yesterday’s. The morning weather and the cold rainwater made his toweling at the end into the best part. After covering Elarra again, he splashed his own face and sat down to resume his watch. The morning hours dragged, without even a delusion or hallucination. The dwarf-clock in the hall struck eight and nine. It was perhaps a quarter-hour after nine when Master Tilborn shook himself. “I know what I’ll do,” he told Elarra. “I’ll put you in the goblin-harness.” He went to the bedroom closet and dug it out.
The goblin-harness was a thing of metal and leather, with two halves connected by flat-linked chains, and two locks that opened to a common key. Master Tilborn undid the leather strap binding Elarra’s wrists and placed her in the high half. This held her upper arms against her body, leaving her hands free but out of position to do anything. He then untied Elarra’s ankle straps and locked the low half of the harness on her. This held her legs together, above the knees, leaving her feet free but, again, in no position to do anything useful. Elarra didn’t like the goblin-harness. She couldn’t honestly call it uncomfortable or even unpleasant, but… she just didn’t like it.
Of course she had never said so or even hinted at her dislike. Equally of course Master Tilborn had noticed anyway, and after a couple of trials had packed the harness away in the closet. Now, however, Elarra had to admit that it was a blessing to not have her wrists and ankles bound. Master Tilborn was always comfy with his ties, but there were such things as too long and too much. Yet despite the deceptive freedom of her hands and feet, the goblin-harness was effective. A pair of straps over her shoulders kept her from slipping the harness down, and the pair of flat-linked chains kept her from slipping it up.
The locks were positioned to be out of reach of the captive’s hands, even if she could somehow acquire the key. The other fastenings were likewise arranged out of the captive’s reach. In all, the goblin-harness kept Elarra just as helpless as most rope ties, and better than some. Master Tilborn helped Elarra sit up again. His hands reached to give another of his wonderful ear-caresses, and to connect the harness’s leash-chain to a fastening set in the bed. Elarra smiled, considering the ways she might suggest that Master try the harness again, after this antitoxin-annoyance was over. But Master Tilborn frowned thoughtfully, and suddenly broke away to return to the closet.
“I should have thought of this sooner,” he said, returning with a Lutz-gown. The linen garment was named after the slave-dealer Lutz – not the one who had sold Elarra, but his cousin – and was designed so that it could be put on or taken off a captive without removing her bonds. Master Tilborn did have to unhook the leash-chain to dress Elarra, but put it back once the Lutz-gown was in place. “You’re not going anywhere,” he told Elarra with a smile. And it was true. A goblin-harness would allow the captive to take tiny mincing steps, if she were careful, but the leash put paid to that. At this point a chorus of two voices called out “Hullo!” It was Master Wil and Mistress Myrtle.
“We brought you a second breakfast,” Master Wil said. “It’s ten o’clock,” Mistress Myrtle added, and the dwarf-clock started ringing to confirm this. After it had finished she went on, “We brought bacon, and sweet scones that won’t need any jam, and a dish of taters-and-cheese.” She came into the room carrying the supplies she’d named. “It’s wet and nasty this morning,” she said, echoing the words of Grantie Primrose. “I’ve put on the kettle for tea,” Master Wil said. “And how is the patient this morning? I hope she got some beauty-rest, even if Coz Til couldn’t.” “I did get some sleep,” Elarra admitted. “She had a bad nightmare, last night,” Master Tilborn said.
“But I think the worst is over.” Elarra suddenly grinned. “Yes! And I can roll my tongue, now!” She demonstrated, and the three halflings beamed at her. But then Master Tilborn shook his head. “I want you to pass the candle-charm test, too.” “And the twenty-four hour test,” Mistress Myrtle put in. “I’m sorry,” she told Elarra, “but it’s better to be safe.” Elarra couldn’t disagree. She shivered, remembering the forks she had wanted to stick into her master. “What’s the ‘candle-charm test’?” Master Wil asked. “It’s something Grantie Primrose showed us.” Master Tilborn lit the candle. “All right, Elarra, repeat after me…” Elarra obediently recited the words, and the candle went out.
She felt her face fall. Master Tilborn shook his head. “Not yet, Elarra.” He forced a smile. “You’ll be eating out of my hand, again.” “That doesn’t sound so bad.” Master Wil grinned. “I wouldn’t mind it myself.” Mistress Myrtle gave him a sharp look. “You’re not eating out of my hand.” “Not what I was thinking.” “And I’m not eating out of your hand, either!” Master Wil cocked his head. “There’s an idea. But I wasn’t thinking of that, either. More like making a little journey and bringing back an emerald beauty of my own.” Elarra wasn’t sure if Master Wil was joking or not. Mistress Myrtle didn’t seem to have any doubts. “Don’t. You. Dare.” she finally ground out. “Why not?
I wouldn’t stop courting you, after.” Master Wil’s tone was… over-casual, Elarra decided. “You two-footed scoundrel! Wilstan Sandyfields, if you run off and come back with… someone, and then try to court me again, I’ll skin and salt you!” “Wouldn’t be running off. You’re welcome to come with me, and help me pick out the right one.” “You shameless two-footed scoundrel! If you dare–” The teakettle’s whistle interrupted her. “Whoops!” Master Wil hurried from the room. Mistress Myrtle huffed twice, then managed a thin smile. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t lay this on you, on top of your other troubles.” Her smile grew a little warmer.
“And I’m afraid I’ve embarrassed you, Elarra, even if you are too well-behaved to show it.” “I think,” Master Tilborn said carefully, “that you and Elarra should talk, after her trouble is over with. Girl talk, just the two of you.” “Three of us, please, master,” Elarra said. “I’d want Grantie Primrose to be there too.” “Maybe,” Mistress Myrtle said. “Maybe.” But she was nodding agreement. On the other hand, she still had one last eruption left: “That shameless two-footed scoundrel!” # When Master Wil brought in the tea, he and Mistress Myrtle tacitly agreed to a truce. Elarra hoped it was for Master Tilborn’s sake.
Master was looking positively bleary, and it was embarrassing to think that the truce was for her sake. After finishing the second breakfast, Elarra settled back to wait out the final hours. Master Tilborn sat in his chair to keep watch over her, and the other two halflings cleared away the remains. However, both Master Wil and Mistress Myrtle ignored the pair of black boots standing by the bedroom door. They were Master Tilborn’s boots, and Elarra had to clean them and put them away. She tried to get out of bed to clean them and found that she couldn’t. She squirmed, trying to unhook the chain-leash that held her to the bed, and couldn’t do that, either.
Her struggles grew more and more vigorous as she tried to slip out of the goblin-harness that her owner had locked her in. But the harness had been designed and crafted to keep its captive from escaping, and it did its job well. Fighting the harness and finding herself helpless might have been pleasant, if Master Tilborn didn’t look so tired and concerned. And if it weren’t for his boots needing to be taken care of. Elarra had to clean Master Tilborn’s boots and put them away. She had to. She had to. “Please, master,” Elarra pleaded. “Please unlock me. I have to take care of your boots.
They’re standing there by the door, and I have to clean them and put them away.” It was terribly important, and Elarra tried hard to make Master understand that, even if she couldn’t explain exactly why. But Master Tilborn just looked at her, and Mistress Myrtle and Master Wil were now staring at her as well. “Please,” Elarra said, appealing to all three of them now. “Leave me in the harness, but unhook the leash. I have to go clean Master Tilborn’s boots!” “Elarra,” Master Wil said slowly. “We’re halflings. We don’t wear boots.” “You don’t?” Elarra asked blankly. Of course they didn’t, one thought answered her. “But the boots are right there by the door,” her other thought protested aloud.
“And it’s terribly important that I clean them. They’re dirty!” “Dirty?” Master Tilborn asked. “Are they singing ‘The Merry War’?” Mistress Myrtle looked stuffed. “The bawdy version?” she squeaked. Then she began to snigger. Elarra tried to hold back her own sniggers, and found herself giggling instead. Master Wil joined in the laughter. Master Tilborn grinned: A tired grin, but a big one. Master’s boots no longer stood by the bedroom door. They had never stood there. They didn’t exist. Elarra’s owner was a halfling, and as Master Wil had pointed out, halflings didn’t wear boots. “You’re not seeing any more boots, are you?” Master Wil asked when the laughter died down.
“No, not any more.” “Then I want to see you try that candle-test again. Cousin Til’s about to fall over from lack of sleep, and you’re not having any fun neither.” Master Wil waved his hand down as Master Tilborn started to rise. “You just sit, Til. I’ll light the candle.” He did so, and Elarra recited, “Gikil zigg zine urth!” The candle stayed lit, but, “I can’t roll my tongue,” Elarra confessed. The candle went out. After a moment, Master Tilborn asked, “Can you roll your tongue now?” “Yes, master. I can now.” Elarra demonstrated. It didn’t bring her as much relief as she wished. “Twenty-four hours,” Mistress Myrtle sighed.
“I’m sorry, Elarra, but you’re going to have to stick it out.” “I’m afraid so,” Master Tilborn agreed. His hand reached out to squeeze Elarra’s bare foot, different from an ear-caress, but just as comforting. “I don’t mind, master,” Elarra said. After Master Wil and Mistress Myrtle left, Master Tilborn stood and rubbed both of Elarra’s bare feet. “You shouldn’t lie, Elarra,” he said, softening his rebuke with a smile. “You do mind having to stay locked up.” “I don’t mind this, master. But yes, I wish I could be unlocked now. Only Mistress Myrtle was right; there isn’t a better choice.” Master Tilborn didn’t answer. He finished his foot-massage and sat back down.
After a long moment, Elarra said, “Master?” “Yes?” “Grantie Primrose’s predictions have come true. We did have a lovers’ spat here – between Mistress Myrtle and Master Wil. And someone was laughed at, even if I’m not sure who it was.” “It was my boots who were laughed at,” Master Tilborn said. “They’re ‘someone’ enough if they can sing ‘The Merry War.’ Even if they don’t exist.” Elarra sniggered. # Elarra woke from a doze. Master Tilborn looked more than just tired, now, but there was a gleam of amusement in his eyes. He held a finger to his lips, commanding silence. In the kitchen, Elarra could hear Grantie Primrose handing out pieces of her mind. “You are a two-footed scoundrel, Wilstan.
But at least you’re honest about it. Just keep it under control, and don’t expect everyone to forgive you about it. Because not everyone will, and you can’t blame those who won’t. “And as for you, Myrtle,” Grantie’s voice went on. “You should know better than to be rude about it. You knew what Wil was when he started courting you, or you should have. So if you want to turn him away for that, you ought to be polite. Say ‘No, thank-you,’ instead of calling him names. Even if they are true. Do you hear me, young lady?” “Yes, Grantie,” Myrtle’s voice answered. “All right. You’re both in a tangle now, and no mistake. So if you listen to me, you’ll think about it. Just that – both of you.
Days aren’t too long for a decision that will last for years, so take until at least the end of the week. Don’t talk about it until then – with each other, I mean. Talk to your friends, or take long walks, or whatever it is you do to think. The only thing you should decide now is when you’re going to decide, if you take my meaning. I’ll leave you to that, now.” A few moments later, Grantie Primrose entered the bedroom. “So how are you two, this afternoon, other than miserably tired? I didn’t bring lunch; you can eat after you’ve slept.” “I did get some sleep, Grantie,” Elarra said. “I don’t think Master did, though.” “I couldn’t sleep,” Master Tilborn said. “Of course not.
You were being noble – and I don’t mean to mock you when I say that. You were noble. Only no good deed goes unpunished, and now you’re getting your punishment. Speaking of which,” Grantie Primrose turned to Elarra. “If I haven’t told you before, I’ll tell you now: You did good. I don’t want you to dwell on how much worse it could have been, if you hadn’t kept Til from being vipered, but don’t let anyone tell you it was nothing special, neither.” Grantie Primrose fell silent as she set out a house dress for Elarra. The voices of Master Wil and Mistress Myrtle came in through the open bedroom door. “We’ll talk on Monday, then,” Master Wil said. “Yes. Monday,” Mistress Myrtle agreed.
Kettle-banging sounds came afterward, continuing as Master Wil entered the bedroom but ending just before Mistress Myrtle followed. “It’s almost two, by the dwarf-clock,” Mistress Myrtle observed to the room in general. “Go get some sleep when it strikes,” she added to Master Tilborn. “You look like something a dragon spat out.” “I’m all right,” Master Tilborn mumbled. “We’ll try the candle-charm now,” Grantie Primrose said. She pointedly didn’t add, “Since everyone wants to watch.” Instead, she lit the candle. “Gikil zigg zine urth!” Elarra recited, and the candle stayed lit. “And I can roll my tongue, too,” Elarra added.
Everyone smiled at Elarra: Master Tilborn tiredly, Master Wil broadly, and Mistress Myrtle prettily. Grantie Primrose’s eyes danced merrily behind the spectacles that magnified them. Elarra’s smile felt a bit embarrassed at all the attention. The dwarf-clock struck two. The kettle whistled. “I’ll get it,” Master Wil said as he hurried from the room. Master Tilborn fumbled for the key and released Elarra from the goblin-harness. Elarra stood, stretched, and fell into her owner’s embrace, hugging him back. A moment later, Mistress Myrtle hugged her as well. “Welcome back, Elarra.” “I never was gone, really,” Elarra said. “You know what I mean.
And I can tell you appreciate being able to hug back. And we need to talk. Later.” Master Wil returned with a pair of ewers, with steam rising from one of them. “For Elarra to wash with. Not for Cousin Til to splash his face. Elarra, beg your owner to get some sleep. Maybe he’ll listen to you, if you’re pretty enough about it.” He exchanged a grin with the goblin woman. By unspoken agreement, the three visiting halflings departed, leaving Master Tilborn alone with Elarra. He was sitting on the edge of the bed now, but not lying in it. “Master,” Elarra said. “I do beg: Please, get in bed and get some sleep.” “Not yet.
I want to see you washed and dressed, first.” Elarra washed and dressed quickly, and gave her green-black hair a few strokes of the brush. “That’s good,” Master Tilborn told her. He held up a pair of slave hobbles, retrieved from under the bed. “Now lock these on – and tell Cousin Wil to lock away your sandals.” He smiled a very tired smile. “Can’t have you running away, after all this.” “Yes master.” Elarra sat on the chair to lock the fetters on her ankles. When she had finished, she saw that her owner had dozed off. She set the fetter-key on the dresser, lifted her master’s legs into the bed, and drew the sheet and comforter over him.
Then Elarra left the room, her steps made slavegirl-short by the hobble. But not too short, she decided, to work in the kitchen. Master would be hungry, when he woke up, and she would want to have a good dinner ready for him.
Viper Madness · Part 2 (2/2)
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