Nothing worse than an itch on your nose you can’t scratch… Why is that the focus of my mind? If only I had the wits to focus on my actual problems. Like the ropes digging burns into my wrists or the lose of feeling in my hands as I dangle, a solid meter off the ground, in the bridal tent.
Getting captured was part of my clever plan you see, losing my fingers was not something I foresaw though. I guess they didn’t need to bind my legs since the trolls and half trolls could catch up to a full sprint in less than a stride. With a short swing back and an explosive crunch, throwing my feet above my head. With my shoulders locking my chest above the chin, a good double kick and I had my feet around the tree used as a mid-tent pole.
The trolls had left the bark on, which made it very effect at it’s task releasing my from my current torture. Satisfaction of an itch scratched. I counted it among my blessings that the tree was of sap variety and was still fresh enough to not crumble at my nuzzling. Second blessing was the feeling returning to the tips of my fingers.
“Wat’cha doin’ der?” I couldn’t see who spoke, face full of log. A half-tongue though, clearly not a full troll.
“Just scratching my nose a bit.” I politely retorted. No need for poor manners, I am an honored guest after all.
“Silly grain-boy, I could have gotten that for you.”
“Then do me a spot and get at my right shoulder a bit.”
“Like thissss” Cracked, cold ivory pressed into the back of my shoulder. My guest drew tight circles along my shoulder creases. It burned a little as it chipped off chips of dried dirt and worked it’s uneven points into my muscle.
“Thank you, that’s quite good.”
“Isn’t it customary among you tiny things to repay such an act.”
“Scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. That’s generally the deal. So I suppose,”! Six points pierced my right shoulder. All the relief turned white hot. My back cooled by my blood. Dropping back into a swing I pulled out chunks of bark with my knees, chunks of my knees as well.
“Now grain-boy. Bite me!”
There she was the fruit of my labor’s the troll chief’s daughter, Ail-sha. Half-elf, Half-troll. A thing grey beauty. All the strength of a full male Troll, and the grace of an Elf. Eight and Half feet tall she looked me in the eyes.
“I bite you… now you bite me.”
Her thumb and ring finger pinned back my ears. She squeezed the back of my head, Intense pressure built up in my temples as she forcefully buried my mouth into her neck. Thankfully I have sharp canines or she would have crushed my skull before I could draw blood. Dragging my teeth deeper down her neckline opening the bite as far as my bound state would let me.
Feeling her grip on my skull loosen, I hooked my legs around the bottom of her ribs. She wasn’t much wider than the roof post and at least I had tension off of my neck and shoulders.
She cooed as the warm air between us and the heat of her body turned her blood into steam. Under the wisps of my own panting I watched as the wound drew close, I had to take another bite.