<html><head><style type="text/css"></style></head><body><div style="font-family:times new roman,new york,times,serif;font-size:12pt"><div><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///G:%5CUsers%5CRyx%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><link rel="themeData" href="file:///G:%5CUsers%5CRyx%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx"><link rel="colorSchemeMapping" href="file:///G:%5CUsers%5CRyx%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml"><style>  </style> Raising his free hand Dream lightly touched the side of Egland’s strong cervine muzzle.  “You’ve here, ts’amut.  Service and purpose can be found later but for now you’ve this place.” The musician crooned softly as he stroked the elk knight’s jaw.  “And me.”  Egland turned his head into the touch and closed his eyes.  Dream leaned close to raise his muzzle toward one of the road, scalloped ears and whisper; “Weep, my friend, none here shall gainsay your sorrow.  Let it free.”<o:p></o:p> Egland’s tall ears slowly backed and his head dropped to Dream’s chest.  With a single strained gasp for breath the elk clutched at the minstrel and wept as he had not done so since learning of Namir’s death.<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> When he returned to himself the room was dimly lit by the last fading rays of sunlight dropping behind the western peaks.  Dream was stroking his upper back lightly with one hand while his other supported the elk’s head against his chest.  Egland found his nose buried in the cream hued fur of Dream’s chest and the musician’s scent filled his breath.  The marten smelled of florally fragrant soap foremost with the dryness of fur underlying that.  Hints of a deep, earthy musk tickled Egland’s sensitive nose; a masculine scent.  Mingled amongst the lot was the acrid odor typical of all mustelids.  As a bouquet the musician’s personal scent was not unpleasant.<o:p></o:p> Egland blinked and raised his head slowly.  “I’m sorry.” He croaked ashamedly with grief-roughened voice and released his drowning man’s grip upon the marten.  He saw dark stains upon the fine black silk from his tears and damp smears upon the marten’s roughed chest fur.<o:p></o:p> “Do not be sorry for grief, Yacoub.” Dream lightly stroked the elk’s tear-stained cheek fur.  “Grief withheld leads to nothing but a cancer of the spirit.”<o:p></o:p> Egland turned his head into the touch and took a deep, shuddering breath.  “I have not – allowed myself that weakness in many years.”  His body felt drained and boneless, weak from the mightiness of his released sorrow.  “Your robes –“ The marten’s whiskers tickled his nose.<o:p></o:p> “Can be laundered, and fur washed, ts’amut.” Dream admonished gently and inclined his head to brush fine whiskers and soft fur across the elk’s nose and lips.  Egland shuddered.  “You do no one service by not allowing yourself to grieve, Yacoub.   Even if you only do so in empty solitude.”  The marten’s short cheek ruff and stiff whiskers crossed along the line of the elk’s jaw slowly and Egland raised his hands to Dream’s upper chest in a futile gesture to push himself away but could not find the strength.  “That is what your Bishop is very likely doing, hiding behind his fear and grief in the solitude of his recovery room, brooding upon it and allowing the dark wound to fester.”  Dream drew his head back and raised his gaze to meet Egland’s, nose to nose.  “It is for him you should embrace your own grief, gain strength from it, and be there when he can no longer hold his to his breast and needs someone to help him release it.”<o:p></o:p> Egland stared into the minstrel’s gentle brown eyes and heard his words but felt no comprehension.  His ears slowly turned back and a quickness that was not grief stole into his breath.  The hands lain against Dream’s chest to push him back turned to catch at the open lapels of his robe.  One of the marten’s hands raised to rest lightly in the center of the elk’s upper chest.  Egland leaned close against the pressure of Dream’s hand while using his grasp upon the musician’s robes to pull him in.<o:p></o:p> The elk’s kiss was rough, desperate with the intensity of urgency for the pliant, compassionate musician in his grasp.  A pained moan escaped Egland’s throat as their lips met and his hands released the silken fabric of the night-robe.  Without breaking his kiss, breath gusting swift and hot from his nostrils, his hands slipped under the silk.  The texture of Dream’s fur was as silken as his robes, deep and lusciously dense under Egland’s fingers as they slid up across Dream’s shoulders.<o:p></o:p> “No.” The word was as gentle as the marten’s touch, muffled by the rough intensity of the elk’s hungry kiss and went unheard.  Egland’s hands slid over Dream’s shoulders and drew back the neckline of the robe spilling it down the marten’s back.  It pooled at his elbows and waist, held only by the knotted sash about his midriff.  Dream’s hand pressed more firmly at Egland’s chest but beyond that he made no attempt to break the kiss or escape.  “No, ts’amut.”<o:p></o:p> Whether heard or felt the second utterance of the word found its way into the small corner of Egland’s mind that had not become totally lost in the overwhelming physical responses and need burning through him and the elk thrust himself back with a snort.   With eyes white-rimmed and his ears rising and falling in confusion Egland snorted heavily.  “No?  NO?” he groaned and clutched his head in both thick fingered hands.  “Will e’en you refute me now?  You turn me away?”  Aghast and ashamed at the shreds of dignity fast being stripped away by his tumult of emotional loss and physical need Egland turned to rise but the marten was more swift.<o:p></o:p> With his night-robe still hanging akimbo about his waist Dream leaned forward and pushed Egland back down with a strong hand upon his shoulder.  Before the elk could break away again the marten moved to straddle his thighs and captured his powerful muzzle with both hands.  “No, my ts’amut, no.” Dream held the cervine muzzle and looked once again into Egland’s sorrowful eyes.  The elk could not return his gaze, rolling his eyes away and dropping his hands weakly to the cushions afraid to touch the minstrel, not trusting himself.<o:p></o:p> “What you feel, ts’amut, you feel not out of desire or love but grief and fear.” Dream said gently with his muzzle close enough for Egland to smell the tea on his breath.  “Never passion in the depths of grief, dear one.  It serves naught but to cut deeper though you think it assuages your agony.”  He shook his head slowly, “It is a false vessel into which to spill your pain.”<o:p></o:p> Spiraling once again into the dark abyss of despair Egland moaned, “’No’, you said.” He countered, trying to turn his head away but the marten’s gentle grasp was too strong.  “You desire me not!”<o:p></o:p> As if to deny the claim Dream kissed the elk.  Not with the furious intensity of urgent need but a more tender caress of lips.  “Nay, Sir Yacoub Egland Knight of Yesulam, nay.” He smiled and shook his head, “I desire you very much.”  His hands caressingly stroked Egland’s muzzle.  “But t’is you I desire, not the heedless grief that burdens your heart.”<o:p></o:p> “What, then, shall I do?” Egland groaned in sorrow, “I know nothing but this burning sorrow.” He sighed sadly, dropping his head between Dream’s forearms to get away from that kind and gentle kiss that still burned upon his lips.  “And fear, Dream, this terrible black fear.”<o:p></o:p> Dream kissed the top of his nose once more before sidling back and standing.  Without repairing the spill of the robes that exposed him to his waist he extended one hand.  “Firstly, my handsome young friend, you sleep.”  Egland looked at the lounging couch upon which he sat with a moue of consternation that caused Dream to chuff.  “And you shan’t sleep in my parlor!”  Dubiously Egland accepted the hand and carefully stood to his hooves.  Dream retrieved the cane from the floor where it had fallen and passed it to him before walking toward the curtained archway.  He shouldered the robe loosely back into place as he went and drew the tapestry aside.<o:p></o:p> The room beyond was darker still than the now dim receiving room as there was only a single narrow casement in one wall.  Egland followed Dream into the shadows and gauged the room by the deeper shadows within the murk.  Most dominant was the looming shadowy hulk of a canopy bed against the far wall but not one but three wide wardrobes along the left most wall.  A broad desk, or vanity, at which Dream stood striking a flint to the wick of a lamp, dominated the right wall near the casement.  Near the archway was a hearth not currently in use or laid ready.<o:p></o:p> A moment later the lantern sputtered to life and a warm yellow light chased away the shadows when Dream set it in front of a polished reflector.  Crossing toward the wardrobe he passed Egland who still stood a pace within the room looking around and traced his hand across the elk’s chest in passing.  “The bed is right there, ts’amut, make use of it.”  He smiled and waved his other hand toward the huge canopy bed.  Egland looked toward it dubiously even though it did look more comfortable even than the lounge had been.  He felt terribly self conscious and lost.  Dream went to one of the wardrobes and began ruffling through the crowded rack of garments.  “I have to go out, Yacoub.” He said while selecting an armful of clothing.  “The night is young and a musician has to earn his coin.”  Egland watched the busy marten as he carried the neatly folded heap of clothing over to the vanity to drape over a chair.<o:p></o:p> Despite being intimidated by the opulent excess of the marten’s taste Egland had to admit that the events of the day, more especially the last couple of hours, had left him so exhausted he feared he would fall on his muzzle very soon.  With a faltering shamble he crossed to the bed and noticed that it was actually elevated on a pedestal that he had to step up onto just to reach it.  The stone of the pedestal was warm under his hooves, heated by some mechanism beneath the floor he did not know, but it was not hot.  He sat down upon the edge of the bed and rested his elbows on his knees to watch Dream because his mind was slowly shutting down bit by bit and he could not contemplate any other course of action.<o:p></o:p> The musician’s vanity was dominated by the single largest mirror Egland had seen outside the parlor of a King that threw back the light of his single lamp and sketched half of the marten’s frame in shadow.  Dream removed his night robe and deftly folded it into a loose bundle and set it aside and stood before the vanity to examine the fur of his chest.  Egland merely watched dumbly without feeling even the slightest stirring of either self-conscious shame or interest in the ungarbed minstrel.  <o:p></o:p> Dream glanced in the mirror and caught his empty stare.  “Doff your tabard, ts’amut, and lay down before you fall.” He admonished gently at the reflection in his mirror.  Taking up a brush with short bristles he dipped it into a nearby basin and scrubbed at the fur of his chest lightly.  Egland looked down at his tabard, at how the yellow light turned the green to a muddy brown and the white to flat gold, and let out a slow sigh.  A touch upon his face brought his attention back up to find Dream standing before him, now fully garbed and the room considerably darker. <o:p></o:p>  “You’re dozing where you sit, Yacoub.” He pointed out with a gentle smile and dropped his hand to move slightly toward Egland’s side.  Drawing back the heavy down coverlet he patted the silk sheets, “Sleep, ts’amut, stop fighting it like an unruly child doing war with naptime.”  With a yawn Egland did as he was bade for there was little else he could do.  Dream captured his shoulders as he turned and deftly unlaced the stays of his tabard to draw it off and let it drape over one of his arms while Egland stretched out onto the inviting soft coolness of the silken bed.<o:p></o:p>                 “And might I tell you something, ts’amut?”  Dream leaned over once Egland had let his head drop to one of the many pillows.  The elk nodded slowly up at the shadowed face leaning over him.  “What you did, I caused you to do, okay?  Think on that as you sleep, and what did happen in the end.”<o:p></o:p>                 Egland narrowed his eyes slightly as that percolated through the morass the stresses of the day had left of his thoughts and emotions.  “I almost…” he started to say but Dream laid a staying finger upon his lips.<o:p></o:p>                 “Exactly, ts’amut, almost.  Twice, almost.  You fear that you’re losing yourself, the core of what defines you, but you are not.  Twice you came close to violating those vows, and twice you stayed yourself.  Do you understand?”<o:p></o:p>                 “But,” Egland tried to formulate a cogent response but the room was steadily growing darker and the weight of exhausted sleep was pressing ever more heavily upon him.  “What if… if I had not listened to… your… ‘no’?”  He yawned again trying to keep his eyes open.  Dream laughed softly and leaned over to lay a hand upon his chest and touch his lips lightly with a kiss.<o:p></o:p>                 “My second appellation is Serpent for a purpose, handsome.” He winked, “Sleep now, I shall return… at some point.”  Dream swept away with a swirl of his dark cloak carrying Egland’s tabard and disappeared through the curtained archway.  On the vanity the lamp guttered with the merest hint of a flame while pale moonlight defined a ghostly line across the foot of the bed.  Egland watched the flickering wick of flame until the darkness of his falling eyelids doused it.<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> Fin.<o:p></o:p> </div> </div> !DSPAM:4c39522d164671075618241! </body></html>