The Elf Wife Ch. 04

Chapter 4

Bed, Roof, and Walls.

Urragn woke her early. "Don't get up," he said. "I'm going into the village to buy some things. Stay in the room and keep the window closed. We don't need anyone to see you."

"And what will you do to me if I leave?" Aris asked.

"I told you that if you fled from me, I would not pursue you. But I won't wait for you to come back. Are you planning to flee?"

Aris sighed. "No."

He paused and asked the next question carefully. "Are you planning to find some way to kill me?"

"No," she said. She could not be offended by a perfectly fair question.

"And you aren't planning to kill yourself the way your officers would have instructed you to do?"

"No," she said.

"Good," he said. "I... I know you don't want me to try and romance you anymore. But... I still do hope you can find happiness with me. It isn't my desire to cause you pain or make you miserable. I don't want you to feel like a prisoner."

"I know," she said. "I know and I don't care. My happiness is my own business."

Urragn nodded. He seemed a bit hurt by Aris's coldness. But he decided not to comment on it any further. "I will be back before lunchtime. When the innkeeper comes to give you breakfast, don't open the door for her. Have her set it in the hallway so that you can take it without being seen."

"As you wish," she said.

When he came back, he brought a bag with him filled with goods. "You aren't dead and I'm not dead," he said. "It's good to know I can leave you unsupervised."

"I thought I wasn't a prisoner?" she said.

"The door is unlocked, Aris Alvander. But that doesn't mean I should trust you completely." He placed the bag on the bed and spread open its lips. "Some things to make you look a bit more respectable," he said. And then he paused and looked at her carefully, realizing that he may have made a mistake. "Not that you are... well."

She snorted. "You don't find me attractive?" Aris said.

He raised his eyebrows and kept his mouth shut as he removed the items from the bag.

She crossed her arms and grinned. "What was it you said to the captain the other night, before the feast table? 'Permission to speak freely,'" she said.

Urragn raised his eyebrows. "You elves... you look like a miscarried fetus."

Aris had not expected that. She actually laughed.

"It's true," Urragn said. "You are skinny and small. You have very little hair. Not like an orcish woman at all."

"Would it help to know that I think you orcs look like poorly-bred bulldogs?" Aris said.

"Dogs are loyal at least," Urragn said. "I'll take it as a compliment."

Aris caught her breath and sighed. "And what did your father do when he caught you with that watermelon, Jarl Urragn."

His smile faded completely in a moment. Aris noticed and decided not to press further.

He changed the subject. "I have another change of clothes for you. Something else to pin up your hair, and a bit of jewelry. I told you I'd get you jewelry when we got to Tubid, and I did."

He laid the ornaments out on the bed in front of Aris. There were a pair of bronze bracelets, an arm cuff, and a copper necklace.

"I told you not to try and romance me," Aris said coldly. "Buying me jewelry isn't necessary."

"It isn't romance. If we have guests at Fud Faragna, I need the jarl's wife to look like a jarl's wife. People will ask questions if they see I haven't spent any money on you. I also got you this." He produced a little silken cord on which hung a pendant carved from bone.

Aris took the pendant in her hand and examined it. It bore the image of a doe.

"The goddess Chavishat. In some of the stories she appears as a doe."

"She's a fertility goddess, isn't she?" Aris asked.

"Kadinog is the fertility god, and I wear his token," Urragn said. From the collar of his tunic, he pulled a little silver medallion of his own. "Since I am trying to help you conceive. And he wards off cancer, which is what killed my grandfather. Chavishat protects pregnant and birthing mothers. And if all goes well you will need her help very soon. But it only works if you are wearing it."

Aris didn't know what to make of the little bone medallion. "We elves don't pray to Chavishat, and we don't believe in the power of talismans."

"It works whether you believe it or not," Urragn said. "Put it on. It would make me feel better to know you were wearing it."

Aris tied the doe medallion around her neck. It felt strangely heavy on her collarbone. She had always imagined that she might bear a child at one point in her life. However, she'd also half assumed she'd die before she ever got a chance to do something so boring and ordinary. But the thought of actually being pregnant was odd and uncomfortable, like a violation of the divine natural order. People like her took life. They didn't create it.

She decided to try on the other jewelry. The bracelets were a bit too big for her, but the copper necklace fit nicely. She saw another piece in the bag and pulled it out. It was a pair of silver earrings molded to look like chamomile flowers.

"These are lovely, but I don't have my ears pierced," she said.

"Those aren't for you," Urragn said, taking the earrings from her hand. "They're for Vrishtagna."

"Who?"

"Vrishtagna. My wife."

Aris blinked for a moment. "Urragn, we just got married two days ago."

Urragn sensed Aris's discomfort, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. "I remember. I was there," he said.

"And when did you marry Vrishtagna?" Aris said.

"Before I became the Jarl of Fud Faragna. We were teenagers. Aris, you knew enough about me to know I would be at Katkasad. You know the details of my career. You knew enough about me that they trusted you to come and kill me. How do you not know the name of my oldest wife?"

"Oldest... oldest wife?" Aris said. She ran her fingers through her hair.

"I'm forty-four years old. I've been the Jarl at Fud Faragna for nearly twenty years. Why would I not be married, Aris?"

"Because you are married to me, first of all."

"And I'm married to Vrishtagna."

"Urragn. How many wives do you have?" Aris said.

"Six, depending on how you count," Urragn said. "Six by roof. Four by bed. And now that I have you, that's seven by roof and five by bed."

"Seven wives?"

"I can afford it," he said.

Aris sat down and put her face in her hands.

"I think you will like Vrishtagna," he said. "Though I don't think she's going to like you, but that can't be helped."

When they were on the road again, Aris sat at the back of the wagon looking out at the road behind them. Her stomach ached. Urragn tried to reassure her in the worst way possible. He spoke in elaborate detail about all the patriarchal nonsense he had set up in Fud Faragna.

"There is Vrishtagna. She is the oldest. I have six children through her, including my son Gahi. Gahi has a wife. But she is technically my wife. Her name is Chavishat, after the goddess. She is the daughter of the Jarl of Black River Canyon, but it would have been improper for her to be married to the son of a jarl and not the jarl himself. So, by roof she is married to me and by bed she is my son's wife."

"So, you do not have seven wives?" Aris said, struggling to follow along.

"I have seven wives. Five by bed. Seven by roof."

"So, you have five wives?"

"By bed. By roof seven."

"Urragn, you are not making any sense," Aris said.

"What about it doesn't make sense? I can't have seven wives and possibly sleep with all of them."

"If you do not sleep with them, they are not your wives."

"They are. By roof." He was getting a bit annoyed. "You had parents, didn't you? Your mother and father shared a bed, I assume. But you and your father did not share a bed, because that would be improper. But if you had a child while living in your father's house it would be his child, would it not? Regardless of who had impregnated you."

"No, it would be my child," Aris said.

"But he is their roof father, and not their bed father," Urragn said. "Like the children's song. Mother and father share a bed, child and father share a roof, master and servant share the walls... I won't sing it. I don't sing, except for religious things. But you get the idea."

"I do not," she said.

Urragn tapped her on the shoulder to get her to look at him. He gestured with his hands, drawing circles of increasing size in the air. "Bed, roof, walls."

"And how many children do you have?" she said.

"If Ugamat hasn't delivered by the time we get home, seventeen by roof. One of those is my daughter's child. Or two.

Urragn rambled on about his various wives. He listed their names, and the names of their children, and Aris forgot them as soon as she heard them. One of the wives was the niece of the Orc King, and Urragn explained that it was extremely important that Aris only ever address her as "Dame." The idea of calling an orc woman a dame was uncomfortable to Aris, but she was no longer part of elvish society, so she would have to get used to it.

Urragn further explained that two of the wives were not his wives. One belonged to his son, and one belonged to his daughter, and was also a male.

"Which means he's your... husband?" Aris asked.

"No. He's my wife. By roof. And my daughter's husband by bed."

"Why didn't you marry your daughter off to a different family?"

"I did, with my other daughters. But Ugamat, she's... well. You'll meet her. We can't send her away."

"And she has a husband, who is your wife."

"I prepared the feast. He bit into it. It is called a mother's marriage, and it isn't the norm, but it isn't abnormal either. I assume you do the same thing sometimes in elf noble families."

"We do not."

He shook his head. "It will make sense when you meet them."

They ascended uphill and through a mountain pass. When they reached the other side, the weather changed. The punishingly pure blue sky was now white, with rolling clouds. It began to rain. The drops fell onto the canvas wagon cover with little pit-patter sounds. Urragn closed the flaps, and then he gave Aris a serious look. She wasn't immediately sure what it meant, until he unwrapped his skirts and grabbed a vial of oil from one of his bags.

Her emotions were mixed as she watched him wake his sleeping instrument. When he was hard, he took his medallion to his god and kissed it for good luck. Wordlessly he reached for the sash around her waist and untied it. His fingers brushed around her stomach as he did.

He noticed the nervous look on her face, and he lifted her chin so that she was forced to look him in the eye. To her relief he said nothing. He simply cupped her cheek in his great hand. When he leaned forward to kiss her, she blocked his mouth with her fingers. They looked at each other for a moment, trying to read each other's faces. She was sure there were all sorts of emotions swirling around inside of him, but she could not tell what they were, and he was determined not to show them.

She leaned backward on the pillows and propped herself up by her elbows. He finished undressing her, unwrapping her carefully as if peeling an orange.

As she lay pressed under his great body, she absorbed the warmth radiating from him. She felt his chest and his stomach, and she wondered how someone could be so hard and so soft at the same time. His cock carried the same contradiction. It was gentle as it prodded around her lower lips, searching for its proper place, but with each touch she could feel a great strength and heat within it. And she believed him when he told her it had produced so many children.

It hurt when he entered her, but the oil helped. "I should have brought the oil with me yesterday," he said. "Sorry about that."

"It doesn't matter," she said. "And be quiet. The driver will hear us."

He wrapped his fat arms around her body and slid them under her shoulder blades, pressing her against his chest. She absorbed the pressure and friction of him inside her as their bodies linked together. She had asked him to be cold and direct when he had sex with her, to spare her any complicated mixed emotions. She hoped he would inseminate her, not "make love" to her or even fuck her. But his member warmed her from the inside out, and his great body warmed her from above. Why did he have to be so warm?

Her poor heart was not going to escape so easily. She missed his sorry attempts at dirty talk, but she was more grateful than ever not to have to hear it.

He finished quickly. When he did, he paused for a minute to stroke her face, but then he stopped himself and pulled away. They disconnected. He cleaned himself off with a towel from his bag, and then tossed the towel to her so that she could do the same.

She wordlessly put her clothes back on, but when she did, he told her to lay back down. Once again, he placed a pillow under her hips and massaged her stomach with the heel of his palm.

"I can rub my own stomach," she said, completely uncertain that such a thing was even helpful.

"You don't know the technique the midwife taught me. Just let me do this," he said. She despised how much she enjoyed the touch. This was the exact thing she had hoped to avoid.

They did not speak another word for the rest of the trip. The boring silence overwhelmed him, and he opened the flaps of the wagon cover so they could watch the scenery.

It was beautiful as they approached Fud Faragna, green and wet, with wildflowers peppering the roadside. The moist air and darkened sky had an odd effect on the landscape, making the colors appear brighter and twice as vibrant as they would be in the full light of the sun. The sound of the falling rain was intoxicating and soothing. Aris was a bit chilly with the flaps opened. She wanted to snuggle up next to him and fall asleep in his arms as they had done the day before. But they had decided they would not do such things.

Soon the driver peaked under the front curtains of the wagon to announce that they were about to cross the River Fud.

"Welcome home, Lady Aris," the jarl said. She hated the way he said it. She could not tell if he was being sarcastic or not. He had been in a somewhat sour mood since they'd had sex earlier, and she wasn't entirely sure why.

Fud Faragna was the name of the jarl's household. The village around it was of course called Faragna. And the Jarl's domain was the County Fud. Aris had heard once that Urragn also owned a few tracts of land far south near the border with elvish country, but not enough for him to gain any type of secondary titles from that.

The village was a simple, underwhelming place. The houses were not particularly beautiful, with grass thatching and stone walls. The streets were barely even streets, just tracts of mud between patches of grass where people tended to walk most often. Aris saw a few orc children standing by a house as their wagons passed by. She had never seen an orc child before, and there was something about them that made her want to look at them even closer. Urragn closed the canvas flaps.

"Sorry, it still isn't a good idea for you to be seen," he said to Aris.

She was annoyed. "So, I have to stay walled up in your compound until you decide that I'm not an embarrassment anymore?"

"It's not about embarrassment. We talked about this," Urragn said.

"I don't get to go shopping in the village, or take walks outside? Or are you jealous? Are you afraid that if another male looks at one of your wives my honor might be tainted?"

And for the first time Aris saw Urragn actually get angry. "By the blood of the boar, Aris Alvander. Will you just listen to me for once!" He closed his eyes, scrunched his face, and opened his mouth so that his tusks looked bigger and sharper than ever. He slapped a hand on the floor of the wagon. She shrunk back. Very quickly he composed himself, and he thought before he spoke.

"Bed. Roof. Walls," Urragn said, once again drawing circles in the air of increasing size. "I have you in my bed. I have you within my roof and walls too. Under my roof I have my children. In my walls I have the servants and my drafted troops. But the walls go out further. There's the village. There's the county. And I am the master of them. And someone else is the master over me. I am in someone else's walls, which means that you are too. The king ordered me to keep this marriage a secret until he feels the moment is right. And that's that. Fish swim. Birds fly. Children obey their parents. Jarls and jarls' wives obey their king."

"I don't appreciate being lectured," Aris said.

"Then learn it the first time I explain it to you," he said. "And as I said before. If you don't like it, leave. I will not pursue you."

"Either I obey you perfectly or our marriage is doomed. Is that what you're saying?"

"You are deliberately misinterpreting me," he said.

"I don't think I am," she replied.

He closed his eyes, raised his hands in front of him, took a breath, and then shut his mouth. He did not respond to any further arguments or prompting. A horrible thought occurred to Aris that plenty of orcish men likely beat their wives. She had known Jarl Urragn for only a few days, and he had been more or less kind to her so far. But who knew how long that would last. She wondered if he had an ulterior motivation for not allowing her to have her sword.

But she decided she would not shrink herself down to try and avoid his wrath. Whatever wrath he had was on his conscience, not hers. However, she hoped things would never get to that point.

The jarl's household was surrounded by an ancient stone wall. It was at least 20 feet tall, and there was space along the top for soldiers to stand and keep watch or fire arrows. Bed, roof, walls. A pair of guards at the big iron gate let them through. Aris's mouth went a bit dry as they entered the compound. Doubtless the walls were built to keep enemy soldiers out. She was an enemy soldier, but she was going to be stuck inside.

The wagon stopped, and the jarl jumped out. His voice sang out loud and clear. "Vrish, my dear! Come here and let me put my arms around you!"

Aris stepped out of the wagon and watched the jarl greet a fat middle aged she-orc. He lifted her in the air as if she weighed absolutely nothing, and he kissed her.

"Never go to war again!" Vrish said.

"I have a lot of explaining to do, but our king has a plan to make that happen," Urragn said. "Now did she have that baby yet?"

"No. But she's big as a house and complaining constantly."

"I'm glad I won't miss it," he said. He lowered his voice to a growling whisper, too soft for orc ears to hear, but Aris could discern every word. "I do not want to look at anyone or speak to anyone until I have pinned you down and fucked you into a screaming, shaking fit."

Vrish laughed. "The children will see us on our way back to your rooms."

"Then I will fuck you in the bathhouse."

"Oh, those cold hard floors? My old back can't handle it."

"Well, you'll have to be on top."

She laughed again.

So that must have been Vrishtagna, the oldest wife.

Urragn shouted an order before he carried his sweetheart away to have his way with her. "Captain! Show our newcomer around, and then take her to her room. We'll save introductions for dinner time."

The captain gave Aris a tired look. "Alright, then. Let's go."

Aris followed Captain Adgavad around the great compound. He started with the bathhouse.

"There's the men's and the women's. There's a system that keeps the water heated in the winter. Don't ask me how it works. Go inside and look around if you want."

"Uhm... maybe later," Aris said.

The captain shrugged. He showed her the outhouses, then the workshops where the jarl's blacksmith resided and the women did their weaving.

"The servant women?" Aris asked.

"The wives mostly, but some of the servants too. Vrishtagna is a master weaver. Not that I care much for all that artistic nonsense."

"Am I going to have to weave?" Aris said.

"If you were a duke's wife or a princess, you wouldn't have to do a damn thing. The jarl is rich, but he isn't that rich. Vrishtagna will assign you your work. And she's... well." The captain raised his eyebrows. "I'm not going to speak ill of my commanding officer's woman. But she will expect you to work hard."

Aris was not bothered by that. She had spent her early days in the army scrubbing outhouses, cooking slop and mopping floors. Vrishtagna could not possibly have been a harsher drill sergeant than the ones Aris had dealt with.

A pair of children were playing with a dog in the dirt nearby. They stopped when they saw the captain walk past with Aris.

"Captain Adgavad, if you're here, does that mean Papa came home?" said a little girl of perhaps five years. Her face was consumed with a big grin. She ran up to the captain and put her arms around his leg. The captain did not like this, but he did not dare rebuke his general's children.

"He's with Mama Vrish, and he won't be bothered," the captain said.

"Who's that?" said a boy of about seven.

"The goddess Chavishat. Look at her again and she will smite you."

"No, it isn't," the boy said.

"Have you ever met Chavishat before? How do you know what she looks like? Go play."

He shook the five-year-old off. The children returned to their game. Aris watched them. The boy had small tusks that were just beginning to erupt from his mouth. It would take decades before they were as long as his father's. Aris wondered if that boy would one day learn to fight like his father did, if he would go on to kill elves like his father did.

"Is something wrong?" the captain said.

"No," Aris said.

"You've never seen an orc child before?" the captain said with a sarcastic little laugh.

"Actually, no," Aris said.

The captain raised his eyebrows. "The king is making a terrible mistake. And so is your husband. I know I'm supposed to give a new bride well-wishes, but..."

"You have a lot of opinions you struggle to keep to yourself, don't you, captain?"

The captain shrugged, and they continued their tour.

He showed her the great hall, with tables set around a grand hearth in the center, and a throne on a platform at its head. Colorful banners hung from its rafters. He showed her a garden with fruit trees, vegetables, and beds of exotic flowers.

Next was the kitchen, which was bigger and better equipped than any Aris had worked in as a soldier. It could have fed a company of five hundred troops. Aris barely got a look before a grumpy she-orc shooed them away so that she and the servants had room to work.

"That was Lady Yamash. She is the master of the kitchen. You'll get a few days grace since you are new, but after that she will most definitely put you to work."

He showed her the jarl's bedchambers. It was a great contrast to the humble and utilitarian chamber he had at Fort Katkasad. A grand bed with a thick canopy around it sat up against the far wall. The curtains on the windows were colored with expensive dyes.

Exotic art pieces hung on the walls. Aris never would have guessed that orcs had much of a sense of aesthetics.

She felt a twitch between her legs, realizing that Urragn would call her to this room many times. She would insist on being inseminated, not fucked, not "made love to." But she could not think of a more pleasant place to endure such an indignity.

And finally, the captain took her to her own room.

"It's certainly nicer than my own accommodations," the captain said. "Unfortunately, I am not pretty enough to marry a jarl, so I'm stuck with the officer's bunk."

Aris wasn't sure if she should laugh or not.

Her room was not especially big or impressive, but it was cozy and some of the furnishings looked expensive. She had her own fireplace. It was clear that the household had been expecting her and had kept the rooms prepared for her for a while. She closed the door and sat down on the bed. Doubtless the jarl would inseminate her on this bed too. It was bigger than any bed she'd ever slept on, but it was not nearly as comfortable-looking as the one the jarl had in his own quarters.

Aris felt angry. Of course, her bed was not as big as the jarl's. Of course, her room wasn't as impressive. And it was silly of her to wish it was. She had grown up barely middle class, and she should have felt very grateful to have a room as comfortable as hers. But she had also grown up in a world where husbands and wives were more or less considered equal.

Urragn had pointed out that the elves were not nearly as progressive as they liked to pretend they were. That was true. But this was something different. Among the orcs, she was part noblewoman but also part servant. Urragn had offered her a chance to leave, and a part of her wanted to.

But then she sat down and realized that the sheets were imported cotton. The upper blanket was wool, but when she touched it, it had an odd give, as if it was stuffed with something strange. She flipped over one of its corners. The other side was completely lined with mink pelt. Maybe being a jarl's wife had some benefits. After spending her entire adult life sleeping either in military barracks or in tents, she never wanted to leave this room again.

When Aris looked up from the mink blanket, she realized that the captain was still standing in her doorway. There was a dark look on his face that caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand.

He briefly looked up and down the hall to make sure they were alone, and then he crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. "Listen to me, Aris Alvander," he said.

She said not a word.

"The jarl trusts you," Captain Adgavad said. "Well, he has chosen to act like he trusts you, to make sure that this..." He gestured vaguely at Aris, at her bed, at the walls of the great house around them. "To make sure this goes more smoothly. It won't go smoothly, but he will try his best. He is pretending to trust you. I don't trust you, and I won't pretend." His hand absentmindedly drifted toward his belt and the broad sword strapped at his hip. "I am a soldier, just like you. I vowed to give my life for my king, for Fud Faragna, for the village outside and for everyone therein. You broke your vow to your army. I haven't. The jarl took similar vows, which he might be forgetting, but he and his vows are his own business."

"Soldiers take vows, and Urragn and I took wedding vows too. Surely those are just as important."

"Elves take vows at weddings. Orcs eat sweet-rolls and then they fuck," he said.

Adgavad was making her uncomfortable. She suspected that was his intention.

"I will defend this place, with every ounce of strength in my body. And the very moment I suspect you might be something other than a nervous young bride..." He stepped forward and pointed at Aris.

"You and I both know I'm definitely much more than a nervous young bride. And this is much more than an ordinary marriage."

"Of course I know," Adgavad said. "You know what I mean." He tapped the hilt of his broadsword. "My vows mean something to me. They mean more to me than my very life. And they certainly mean more to me than your life."

"I understand," Aris said.

"Let's hope you do," said the captain. He turned and prepared to leave. "Get comfortable. Change your clothes. Do what you need to do. They serve dinner at the quarter sun every day. Don't be late."

"The quarter sun? What time is that by the elvish clock?" Aris said.

He shrugged and then walked away. He was at least polite enough to close her door behind him.

Aris wanted to enjoy her new bedroom. She lit a fire. It began to rain again, and the sound of the drizzle on the real glass windows was intoxicating. The mink blanket called to her. But her conversation with the captain had caused her heart to race and her stomach to feel queasy. If Aris truly intended to do harm to Fud Faragna or anyone in it, there was nothing the captain could realistically do to stop her. It wasn't the captain's threat that bothered her. It was the fact he felt the need to threaten her at all. She wished she could be just an ordinary nervous young bride, but she had given up the right to be an ordinary version of anything a long time ago.

She had no time to relax and calm her nerves. There was a knock at the door. Aris answered. She looked up at a young orc woman. The woman looked down at her with a highly uncertain expression on her tusked face. Aris saw that the woman was married, as her blueish black hair was tied up. She was also pregnant, very much so. Fur and wool skirts draped over her great belly like a tent. Her breasts were uncovered, which startled Aris, until she remembered this was customary for the orcs.

"Hello," Aris said.

The woman's face twisted around a bit, as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. She handed Aris a basket filled with clothes, blankets, and towels, though she did not say what exactly it contained. Aris only knew by flipping through the folded items.

"So, when Urragn asked his wife if someone had delivered their baby yet, he must have been talking about you," Aris said. "He mentioned you. You are his daughter, aren't you?"

The woman nodded slowly.

"Did he tell you about me?"

The woman nodded again.

"And what is your name?"

A panicked look overcame the daughter's face. She cupped her hands over her eyes for a moment, and uttered a single, very quiet word. "Bath." And then she turned and left, looking like she wanted to cry.

Aris was certain the daughter was not named "bath." Urragn had mentioned the name, but Aris didn't remember it. She then realized that perhaps the girl was instructing Aris to take a bath before dinner, whenever that was.

She took some clean clothes from the basket and ran to the bath house through the rain. When she got there, she realized that the door to the women's bath was locked. She could hear that Urragn and Vrish were still inside, but they were just talking.

"You think we can afford it?" Vrish said.

"We've had this conversation dozens of times, my dear. We aren't going to have to raise taxes just to feed one person."

"It's not one person. It's her, it's her child, and then before you know it, a second and third child, and eventually, her son's wife and his children too."

"If we're lucky," Urragn said.

"Why would that require luck, Urragn? Father and mother share a bed, and before you know it, father and child are sharing a roof. Like the song."

Arris decided to knock and announce herself.

"Is that her?" Vrish said. "Let her come in. She's seen every bit of you, and there's nothing I have that she doesn't have."

He unlocked the door.

Aris was confronted by the sight of her husband's bulking naked form, nearly twice her height, his chest broad, his limbs strong, a good layer of fat insulating his great strength. There was another stir in the muscles between her legs. Those were the exact sort of feelings she hoped to avoid.

When she spoke, her voice squeaked a bit. "I was hoping to bathe before dinner."

He grinned. "You need to meet Vrish, my dear. You will be answering to her from now on. And you should try to make a good impression."

He stepped aside, opened the door, and then locked it again when Aris entered.

The bath house was lined with ceramic tiles. Someone obviously kept it meticulously clean because there was not a hint of mildew between the tile cracks.

"This is Aris," Urragn said to his other wife. "There is soap here, towels here. And they keep the water warm all year round."

Aris saw Vrish sitting in the water. Vrish looked up at Aris, and Vrish looked at her. the grin faded when she got a good look at Aris's face.

"What is this?" Vrish said to the jarl.

"This is Aris," Urragn repeated.

"And where did you find her?"

"Katkasad, like I explained."

Vrish gave a laugh that was not actually a laugh. She shook her head. "Absolutely not," she said. "Not in my house. Not around my children."

"Vrish, she's not going to cause any problems."

"You've known her for barely a week."

Vrish got out of the water. She had not even bothered to wash her hair, which was still dry. Apparently, her bath had just started, but she didn't plan to finish it. "Absolutely not," she repeated. She grabbed a towel and began to redress herself quickly.

"I was going to tell you," Urragn said. He realized that Vrish was leaving. He began to dress as well so that he could follow her.

"When?" Vrish said.

"Just now," he said.

Vrish shook her head. "You and the king have been working on this plan for over a year. Over a year. I prepared her room. I gave her the good mink blanket. At any point you could have added that one important little detail. At any point, Urragn."

"Let's talk about this," Urragn said. "All three of us. Get back in the water. We can just talk."

But Vrish would not have it. She pinned her hair back up in a quick motion and left the bathhouse in a huff.

Urragn stood staring at the door. His enormous naked shoulders slumped. He was unsure what to do.

"You didn't tell her you were planning to take another wife?" Aris asked.

"Oh no, she knew about that. She welcomed it, even. I..." he sighed. "I did not tell her you were going to be an elf."

"You should speak to the wives before you introduce me at dinner," Aris said.

"You're right," Urragn said. "Sorry I can't join you." He finished dressing and went to try and calm Vrish's nerves.

Aris washed herself quickly, the way she had learned in her army training. She desperately wanted to go back to her room. But by the time she was dried and her hair was braided and pinned, she saw people walking towards the great hall.

She followed them inside. People were already taking their seats. The great hearth had already been lit, and food was already being laid out.

Aris took a chair near the end of the table. But Vrish found her and corrected her. Vrish's face was furious, and her teary eyes were swollen and tinted with indigo blood. But she was firm with Aris.

"The ladies of Fud Faragna sit near the head of the table," she said to Aris. "Your chair is fifth from the left."

Aris took a seat. To her left sat a woman just a few years older than she was. The woman gave Aris an awkward and somewhat cruel look, and then turned away. No doubt Urragn had tried to have a talk with her as well by this point. She was wearing a pair of very fine gold and emerald earrings. This woman was probably the Dame.

To Aris's right sat a thin young male orc, and on his other side, the pregnant daughter. Aris wondered if he was the male wife. She wanted to ask him how that worked, but the male wife was busy trying to calm the nerves of his own wife. He was doing a horrible job.

"I don't know if she likes you or not. Why do you care?"

"I don't," the young woman whispered.

"Then that's it," said her husband. "If you actually talked to her, this might be easier."

"You know it's not that simple. I didn't talk to you till we were married for almost a year," she said.

"Well maybe if you... You know what? Never mind. Never mind. Never mind."

The husband, or the wife, or whatever he was. Turned around and nearly jumped when he saw Aris was sitting next to him.

Aris gave him a curt smile, but didn't bother to introduce herself. He didn't introduce himself either.

The children were ushered in by a servant, and then they sat politely waiting for their plates to be filled. The oldest was a scrawny teenage girl, and the youngest was barely able to walk. And then the jarl himself came to the table. He had dressed in finer clothes than usual and adorned his copper jewelry. Behind him walked a pair of enormous fluffy dogs which Aris suspected doubled as companions and personal protection. The family gave Urragn his due attention.

After a servant girl came around to pour the mead, Urragn stood. And he then indicated for Aris to stand as well. His introduction was simple and pragmatic.

"I introduce you to Lady Aris Alvander, my wife by bed and by roof. Children, you are to obey her when she speaks to you. Servants, you are to listen to her direction, unless an order by me or by Lady Vrishtagna contradicts it. Guards, you are to keep her away from the armory, unless I or the captain contradicts it. It is by order of the king himself that she is here, and here she will stay. Is that right, Aris? You do intend to stay?"

Aris looked over the family in their multitude. They looked back at her completely unsure what to make of her and her short, skinny elvish stature. She looked at the jarl who was awaiting her response.

"I will," she said.

Urragn smiled. "To Lady Aris and the new marriage." He raised his mug. The rest of the family raised their mugs too, some eagerly, some reluctantly, some barely paying attention to what it was they were talking about.

Dinner was pork with mint cream sauce once again. But this was not a peasant version. These were entire pork chops, and the sauce had an extra exotic background flavor that no peasant could have afforded to add to their cooking. And for dessert they had more of the same spicy, bitter sweet-rolls, like the one Aris had eaten at her wedding.

Lady Yamash, who was the jarl's second wife, insisted Aris eat two instead of just one. "You are too skinny. We must fix that. You won't be able to conceive until we put a bit of meat on your bones."

It was dark by the time dinner was finished. The servants, under the direction of Lady Yamash and the other wives, cleared away the dishes.

"You should go to bed," said Vrish as she snatched Aris's plate away.

"You don't want my help in the kitchen?" Aris asked.

"You will just get in the way," Vrish said. She did not make eye contact with Aris.

Without even so much as a book to pass the time, Aris tried her best to go to sleep. Elf ears were far keener than orc ears. For this reason, elven homes were built with thick walls, and elven builders even used spells and charms to block sounds from traveling from room to room. This was not true for the great house of Fud Faragna. As the night wore on, the noise became nearly unbearable.

In the room opposite her bed, Aris heard a colicky baby. She had seen that baby during dinner attached to the breast of Urragn's third wife, whose name Aris forgot. It cried and cried and cried. It would sleep for a few minutes, and then wake up to cry again.

The bedroom behind Aris's headboard belonged to the dame. Urragn knocked on the dame's door and joined her in bed. The jarl's great cock had many obligations, it seemed. He laid upon her the most sugary and silly dirty talk Aris had ever heard, which the fourth wife seemed to enjoy greatly.

"Are you going to cum for me tonight, my Princess, my Dame, my Lady?"

"Only if you make me," she cooed in reply. "My pussy has been wet and aching for six months waiting for you to come home. My belly has gone quite a while without one of your babes inside it."

"I'd better fix that," Urragn growled. "Roll over before I make you roll over."

Aris turned on her side and covered her head with her pillow. It did not help. The couple next door made no attempts to be quiet. Even worse, hearing her sister-wife's moans and pants caused blood to rush into Aris's vulva, for the third time that day. Aris could only relieve the pressure by touching herself.

The dame shrieked. So did the baby, and it did not stop wailing until nearly sunrise.