“And pheasant.” Elakdon looked in the bowl. “It looks like pheasant.” He lifted the bowl and blew the steam away. “And no. At the present moment, I think I am most useful here.” He dipped the bread and brought it to Randr’s mouth. He seemed shy about the fact that a King was hand-feeding him, yet he ate the bread.
“Why?” he finally asked.
“You make me contemplate such interesting topics,” Elakdon admitted, then brought the spoon to Randr’s lips. “Necessary lessons to be learned.”
Randr smiled. “Then something good comes of me lying here otherwise uselessly.”
“You will soon feed yourself again. A man like you stays down for no one or nothing for long.”
“Thank you.”
Elakdon continued feeding the man, and he found his company, even in silence, to be pleasant.
After eating, Elakdon stayed a while, silent and contemplative. When he heard Randr’s breath growing deep and rhythmical, he left, bringing the empty bowl.
“You look weighed down,” Father commented.
“I am. With thoughts.”
“Share them with me. As My King or a child of my House, that is up to you.”
“Can I be both?”
“Of course. Come, let us find a quiet corner.”
They did, and Elakdon fingered a cuticle as he relaxed against the wall. “Randr will not own the men I turned thralls. He said that I took their freedom, so they will be mine. The one who stood by is even someone he grew up with. He will not even take the Earl’s place in fear of becoming like Knud.”
Father nodded. “There are many kinds of men. Some hoard power for themselves, others hoard power to empower others. And then there is every conceivable kind in between. The ones who fear it, the ones who loathe it, the ones who are corrupted by it, and the ones who are paralyzed by it.”
“Did I choose the wrong thing to do, Father?”
“If a child of my House asks me that after having done that, I would say…yes. If My King asked after having done it, I would say no.”
“But I am both.”
“Yes, you are, but a mere child of my House would have no reason other than for his own glorification to do it. And I know you didn’t do it for that.”
Father’s belief in his reasons calmed him a bit. Randr didn’t know Elakdon, and he feared men with power. Of course he would see Elakdon differently.
“Is it the wounded man’s words I hear?”
Elakdon nodded. “I respect him. Talking to him, I’ve come to respect his thoughts, too.”
“And the one whose ears are intact?”
“I don’t know. At first, I thought there were only three…then there were four. I didn’t take everything into consideration the way you always do. I think I made a mistake.”
“Haste will do that. See it as a learning experience.”
“Which cost a man his freedom.”
“No, your reasoning was sound. Especially Nol-Plydon agrees.”
That didn’t surprise Elakdon. The old King had an iron grip on his Kingdom, and Elakdon felt unprepared. He’d heard rumors from travelers that the North consisted of a brutal people, and sure, sometimes he thought so, too. He heard stories about Danes who went out to Viking, and some of the stories certainly made him hope none of them came to his village.
Then again, the stories he heard from his Guards, they weren’t exactly shy about running head first into a fight either. Having watched Father murder someone in their own House because they disrespected someone under his care, he was sure Father wasn’t a man who shied away from setting examples either.
Yet, the look on Randr’s face and the tone in his voice kept haunting Elakdon. Father didn’t believe Elakdon had enslaved the four to feel powerful out of ego, and Father knew Elakdon way better than Randr. That kept being what Elakdon took comfort in. Knowing Earl Knud had started out a respected man of great vision, he did understand why Randr would feel hesitant about trusting Elakdon, considering the power he had.
He sighed and leaned his head back, staring into the ceiling.
Sune stopped next to him. “Your mom asks if you have eaten yet, and if you haven’t, then for me to bring you something.”
Elakdon smiled at the cluttered sentence. “I haven’t eaten, but I’m not hungry. For food at least.”
“Oh. I will tell her that.” He left.
“Did you feed your Fountain lately?” Father asked.
“Yes, just before I went to see Randr.”
“What are you in the mood for?”
Another deep sigh. “Nothing.”
“Oh, your thoughts weigh you down more than I thought. Allow me to advise you.” Father grabbed Elakdon at the front of his tunic, pulled him across the table, and dosed him.
The mind-numbing need for release raced through Elakdon, shunning every thought that didn’t involve sexual pleasure from his mind.
“Follow it, Ela,” Father whispered.
Elakdon certainly intended to and grabbed Father to lay a deep and demanding kiss on him. He wanted to feel every inch of him and clawed at the clothes preventing him from following that urge. Father wasn’t slow to assist, and Elakdon soon found them skin against skin, and a whimpered moan escaped Elakdon from sheer bliss of feeling that smooth warmth move against himself. Unlike their last time, Father wasn’t the one who wanted to get lost in touches—he wanted to let Elakdon get lost in sensation.
“Get over here!” Father shouted.
Elakdon opened his eyes, finding Styrk grinning at him. And Dendon. A shiver of expectation raced through him, every hair on his body standing on edge. It made him feel almost cold, and the warm hands sliding over his skin were comforting, spreading entirely different sensations in him.
A hand found his balls and massaged them gently while another hand closed around his cock. Nimble fingers played with his nipples, and warm mouths descended upon his neck, his stomach, the inside of his thighs…wait, they’d managed to undress him? He didn’t care!
He just wanted more, and when a mouth closed firmly around his cock and sucked, he cried out and bucked in their arms.
A finger pushed into his ass, and he finally realized, that his body wasn’t touching wood. It was touching nothing but flesh.
He opened his eyes, seeing nothing but bodies around him. Feeling them all was way more intense since a visual didn’t give him any bearings. So he closed his eyes and tried to discern whose touch was on his cock, whose mouth was on a nipple, whose fingers were pumping in and out of his ass, and who was rutting against his leg? Probably the same guy sucking on his ear lobe since the grunts of rising pleasure fit the rhythm of the humping.
The mental visualization was extreme compared to the real deal, and imagining himself floating between Father, Styrk, Dendon…there were more, there had to be. There were too many hands on him to only belong to three people.
Being the center of their feeding was a huge turn-on, and an orgasm barreled through Elakdon. But it wasn’t alone. He dosed from mouth and cock and ass at the same time.
Excited shouts and cheers sounded, and a goofy smile spread on Elakdon’s face.
“Dose him again,” Father said. “Dose him good.”
Lips locked against his own, and a tongue thrust into his mouth. He recognized the moan escaping into his mouth as coming from Dendon. Then the lovely taste of his dose spread, and Elakdon slipped into a world of even more need and more pleasure.
Self-doubts and depressing thoughts were postponed.
Chapter Twenty-two
Randr was finally well enough to join them at the table, and Elakdon, Nil-Savadin, Nol-Plydon, Earl Trygve, and Earl Gunhild joined at the table, leaving Randr the seat right next to Elakdon.
Ole and Sune served them something Elakdon had never seen served before. It was a roast at the bottom of a deep bowl with burnet leaves having been cut aside to reveal what Elakdon otherwise would have surmised to be a grove-roast. But the meat was tied together on the inside too, ob
viously slabs of meat and not a whole roast.
“What is that?” Elakdon asked, looking at a roast.
“Oh, you did this?” Randr looked at Ole, who smiled proudly.
Elakdon felt excited. “What is it?”
“It is stuffed!” Randr took a knife and found his left arm useless to aid him in holding onto the meat, yet he persisted in cutting the strings. “My mom used to make this in celebration.”
Elakdon stood to aid Randr, hoping the gesture wouldn’t make the man feel like a gimp. “It smells delicious.”
“Yes, I sense your eagerness the same as mine. Ole is quite the cook. Even without an apron.”
Ole swatted him, then apparently remembered his new place and stepped back, fear in his eyes, but Randr chuckled and continued cutting strings. The last one gave way, and the assembled roast opened up, and all the stuffing poured out, hot enough to leave a cloud bursting from it, and the scent made Elakdon’s mouth water.
Now he knew what Randr meant about stuffed. Inside, vegetables had boiled in juices, and a thick sauce spread to cover it all.
“I have not tasted a meal since my eyes turned red, and I have seldomly felt the urge again,” Nol-Plydon said. “My compliments to your mother’s skills.” The old King looked at Ole. “And yours for managing it.”
“Thank you,” Ole said.
Randr stabbed a piece of meat and motioned for Elakdon to bring his plate. He held the next piece of meat up, waiting for someone to shove their plate under the dripping piece. Once the meat had been divided among those who ate human food, he dug back into the bowl with a spoon and poured the vegetables and sauce on top of the meat.
An excited grin stretched the uninjured part of his face, and the other half had to be in pain, yet he was apparently sharing something that made the pain of smiling worth it.
“Did you use the secret ingredient like my mom?” Randr asked Ole.
“Oh, yes, I copied her.”
“Puff mushrooms?” Earl Gunhild asked.
“Yes. Makes for a delicious gravy,” Randr said. He then cut into his bowl, not being able to hold the meat still with only one hand. Ole reached in, aiding his friend, and Elakdon watched the two cooperate like they had done that for many years.
Again, Elakdon realized he’d definitely acted with too little thought when making the man a thrall.
“Ole, join your friend in the celebratory dinner you made him for overcoming the fever and being back on his feet,” Elakdon said.
“Thank you, Nol.” Ole left.
Randr shot a glance at Elakdon. “Thank you.”
“A thrall at your table?” Nol-Plydon asked.
“A friend of a friend being celebrated. Plus, we have always treated our thralls with more kindness than most since we also feed on them. We grow to care.” Elakdon looked at Randr when he said that, hoping it would please him. At the softening look in the man’s eyes, Elakdon’s stomach fluttered. It was a nice feeling, yet he recognized the fact that he sought this human’s approval. He had always sought his mom’s, High Fathers, his own dad, and High Mother’s. This was different, though.
Ole returned and held his plate for Randr to fill with goodies. He then took a seat at the end of the table.
“Taste!” Randr urged, digging into what he’d managed to cut into pieces with his friend’s help.
Elakdon ate, and the eating side of the table went quiet as they savored probably the best dish Elakdon had ever had.
Elakdon groaned in delight. “Oh, I will have this be my last meal before I must stop eating human food.”
Randr looked proud.
Elakdon felt full from that one slice of meat. “What meat was this?”
“I don’t know…” Randr smacked his lips. “Boar?”
“No,” Trygve said, putting his last piece into his mouth and chewed with a contemplative frown.
“Don’t leave us guessing, what is it?” Gunhild asked Ole.
“Horse!” Elakdon guessed, yet the sweetness could come from the range of what had been cooked in the middle.
“Yes. My horse,” Ole said. “I will not leave here anytime soon, so I hope its flesh will nourish my friend back to full strength.”
Randr looked saddened by that, and the look caused a stab of sadness in Elakdon.
“I would think that you traveled with the new Earl to Ting,” Gunhild said.
“I am not the new Earl,” Randr said, sitting back, his joy at the meal apparently lost at the topic at hand.
“I would wish you to find a man or a woman like yourself to stand by your side,” Elakdon said. “If you do, you will not fail your village. Maybe someone like that can help keep you from the wrath of the Vætter. It is a balance you must work out with them, though, if you fear you are the one who angered them.”
“That is not the main problem, King. My village would never allow a gimp to sit long, and I will be blind to half the attacks against me.” He pointed out the range of sight he’d lost.
“I would always stand at that side and warn you,” Ole said quietly, but loud enough to be heard even for Elakdon. He didn’t look up, though, and the way he said it meant he’d come to terms with his new role. Slaughtering his own horse for his friend? Elakdon believed the man would indeed stand by Randr’s blind side. Elakdon’s own actions saddened him to a point where he wanted to leave the table, but he had to learn from his mistake, and he wouldn’t learn from it if he left to ease his own guilty conscience.
“I think a good walk will do Earl Trygve and Earl Gunhild good after such a hearty meal,” Father said. He had a way of making an idea sound like an order, and Elakdon was happy about his intervention at that moment.
“And I think the Queen and I will go find someone to feed.” Nol-Plydon stood and left with Nil-Savadin who had the insight to squeeze Elakdon’s shoulder as she rounded his chair.
The three remaining sat quiet, Ole still staring at the table, and Randr poking a left-over cube of something around in his bowl.
“I have seen that look on your face three times in your life now.” Windin took a seat next to Elakdon, taking his hand. “You are now Nol, but you are my son, too. Three times, and the first two, you were given a piece of advice. The second time you were old enough to understand it and apply it. Compared to this time, it was trivial. Compared to last time, you have grown wiser, though.” She stood, kissed his forehead, and left.
Elakdon smiled, remaining silent as he thought about the times she spoke of. He’d done someone wrong then, too, and he knew exactly what she spoke of. He then noticed that Randr was staring at him. “Mothers teach so much, don’t they?”
Randr nodded. “Mine taught more with the belt than my father did.”
“That would be the exact opposite here. I learned more from her sad look than the sting in my ass left by High Father’s hand.” Elakdon pondered it all some more, not willing to face either of the men, but he would sit there and feel shame at having them stare at him since he figured he deserved it.
Looking up to see who was in the Hall, it was a typical day with most out of the House, only the youngest of Cubs and women and a few men staying inside.
“Ole, how many of these delicious stuffed bundles can you prepare for tonight?”
“I will have to dig more groves and find the stones.”
“Get the help from those you need.”
“Yes, King.” Ole stood and left the table, then returned for the dishes.
“You puzzle me, King,” Randr said.
“Good. I hope you are well enough to join in another feast tonight.”
“You enjoyed my mother’s creation a lot, huh?”
“Yes, but I fear I won’t be feasting only on her delicious idea. My main course will be my words.”
Randr looked even more puzzled.
Elakdon stood. “Excuse me. I have preparations to make. Whatever you need, ask for it.” Elakdon motioned for the thralls gathering around Ole.
“I think I only need the rest
found best in a bed.”
Elakdon nodded and watched as the man walked off to lie down again. Time to find Father.
The Hall was full. People laughed, sang, and stayed close to the hearth.
Father came to stand next to Elakdon. “You’re very secluded tonight. It’s been noticed.”
“Soon, they’ll learn why.”
Father smiled. Having been let in on the secret, he alone knew what lay ahead, and Elakdon still felt the warmth in his heart at the praiseful look he’d seen in his eyes. He hoped to see that in Randr’s eye, too.
Yet, dread and shame burned in the pit of his stomach as he watched people mill in to fill up the seats and floor to max out the space.
The big doors closed, the thud and breeze from them making it to Elakdon.
It was time. So Elakdon climbed up onto the longtable and raised his hand. More and more did, and as people noticed, they quieted down and raised their own, their faces finding him. Randr sat at the table that Elakdon stood on and looked up at him, too.
Elakdon tried for a smile, then looked out at all his people assembled. “Growing up, I was taught that we must live and die by our honor. I believe that. I strive for it. Although I am young, I have learned that even though we strive for something, we will also sometimes fail.
“To live by one’s honor sounds easy enough. Just be honorable. But there are many nuances to life, so it’s way easier said than practiced. I even believe it to be more true of young people as we still gather the experience to navigate said nuances.
“I think that’s where shame comes in. It is that dreadful feeling in the pit of our stomach that will tell us that we’ve failed at something. It is also that feeling that provides the ultimate test to whether or not we learn from our mistakes.
“Father tells me that many of you have noticed that I have been…moping. And yes, I have been. I have even done so openly instead of trying to hide my shame away to make sure I learned the most of it. A new friend, I hope, has provided a useful lesson in power that is directly linked to my moping. To my shame.
“But why do I call for a feast if I feel such shame? I do that because I want you all to witness as I, a young King, learn by feasting on eating my own words. I have not hid my shame as I wanted to let you see that I will learn from my mistakes and thus work harder on living by my honor.
History of Beauty Page 24