Give Satisfaction

Rating: Teen (just to be sure)
Tags: Fairy tale fare, animal transformation, Damsel in Distress!Bertie, Knight!Jeeves, Adventure, Quest
Words: circa 3,522

A/N: Thank you OP for the original prompt. This was my first Jeeves & Wooster fanfic, so I hope it has proven to be fun!

Thank you also for everyone’s patience in waiting for updates and for the lovely comments – both are much appreciated!

I have now posted this story to A03, so you can enjoy here on dreamwidth and also on the archive.

Now we must plunge once more into the Fairy-tale whereupon Jeeves and Bertie seek Ragnarr of the Dwarfs, so that they can brew the potion to lift the enchantment and seek their happily ever after…

Story on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22017397/chapters/52541857

This is split up over a couple comments due to length!

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Part 4 – The Dwarven Folk of the Northern Crystalline Caverns

Our sleep that night was charmingly comfortable. Nothing better than curling up against the man you love with a fire crackling away and Alys resting nearby. Jeeves’ warmth enveloped me, hotter and sweeter than the fire he had built. Where I lay on his chest, my fur caressed the skin under his chin, causing my Knight to smile in his sleep.

That content smile was the last thing I saw before falling asleep into peaceful dreams and the first sight upon awakening. Jeeves is quite a vision I must say, morning stubble, disarrayed hair and not his normally groomed self. Marvellously rough.

Jeeves sighed at my smug amusement and utter fascination. After an inquisitive paw mapped out the dark hair on his chin he lifted me down so he could proceed with his morning ablutions. I allowed him to remove the royal feline, as I too had to prepare myself for the final furlong of our Quest. I would to continue my observations later and present my findings to my fellows.

The state and splendour of Jeeves’ morning stubble was as important as deciding which ale was suitable for pride of place in the annual spring celebrations.

Mind happily made up I checked my purple collar was in good order and admired the sight in the glistening brook, where the too early morning sun reflected off to provide a clear mirror. I couldn’t wait for Jeeves to see my purple shoes when I was human once again. I am certain he will love them, for his expression whenever examining my collar is one of wonder.

There is a touch of some other emotion…possibly fascination? I would say horror, but that doesn’t make sense, must be fascinated admiration at my good taste. Wait until he hears about my idea of adding a purple plume to his helmet! Perfect with a P.

In fact…a Perfect Purple Plume or P.P.P. Meow!

Where was I?

Oh yes, morning ablutions. Once I had finished I returned to Jeeves for a hasty breakfast of tea, cooked fish (caught by one intrepid F.) and bread with butter.

Then we were off with a fully rested Alys.

As we galloped away from that miraculous brook where we confessed all, I mused upon H.G. being a sorceress – and the Sorceress Raven of Ravenous Reaches nonetheless! A night’s rest had transformed my opinion and I was feeling quite positive towards Honoria Glossop. It did help that she was no longer a threat, (of the death until we part “M” variety), and had sweetly assisted in providing ingredients for the potion, plus spelling my crystal.

Said crystal was tucked snugly between my paws in the holdall, (it was safer for me to be secured in the holdall when at a gallop), as I brooded.
We would have to invite Honoria to tea, one mustn’t upset a Sorceress after all – I have read those tales and definitely did not want the Sorceress Raven of R. R sweeping down upon us in anger! It would a rum thing to experience.

One Wicked Witch is quite sufficient.

Meirion would have to come with his children once they were settled and had the Baron’s lands turned to right.

I spent the rest of the day considering tea parties, Jeeves and I uniting our lands, marrying, (which now wasn’t a dreadful prospect). I really must point out to Aunt Dahlia the obvious: men were the ticket and specifically of the Jeeves persuasion.

Or possibly I’ll just let Jeeves loose on my Aunt D. He is bound to win her over with his superlative B. and extraordinary ability to turn matters in the favour of the requester.

Satisfied with my decision I settled into the journey.

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Another three days passed as we journeyed to the far north, the environment around us changing steadily from flatter plains and fields to more hills and rivers which carved out a winding path through the increasingly rocky surroundings. As the fertile environs slowly swept up to majestic mountains I dreamt of dragons and sorceresses, far removed from the Weeping Willows where my Aunt Agatha lurked.

On the fourth day we were greeted with a sky washed a pale pink-red as the sun rose, for we had ridden through the early hours of the night to reach by morning the crescent line of mountains that now towered in front of us. Jeeves had been anxious not to tarry long in territory where all manner of creatures dwelt.

Not dragons oh no, but Great Serpents akin to our snakes, some friendly others not so polite. Eagles that soared high upon the gusty winds and wished nothing to do with silly humans who had a dashed hard time understanding that not every being upon this earth deemed humans the best drink at the party.

I had glimpsed many other beings here as we rode: foxes and wolves and Great Cats the size of Alys! Their eyes shining in the moonlight or off the lit lantern hanging from Alys’ bridle had been a touch terrifying, recalling to mind the terrible time my Aunt Dahlia caught one small Wooster ferreting about in the Castle kitchen for a biscuit.

Unfortunately, child Bertie had no Jeeves for protection or quick thinking for a cover story. Now, however, most fortunately one feline Bertie had a Jeeves and said Knight expertly led us through all the potential danger, with Alys remaining calm and sharp-eyed.

Alys took a well-worn path and sooner than you could grab a drink at a party we were riding up into the mountains. Rapidly the air turned colder, a frosty crispness that crept into your lungs as you breathed. On one side the mountain plunged down into a sheer drop that gave this feline a light head, rather similar to when the Drones drink too much wine at our monthly meet in my Castle.

The Drones are bunch of chaps who drink and be merry, far too frequently according to both my Aunts. I suspect both A.s are unfortunately correct, because spending company with Jeeves makes one wish to reform. Yet I’m certain a little tipple every now and then will not hurt.

I know! I will ask Jeeves to get his magnificent noggin on the dilemma. I made a few claw marks into the cloth I had found during our travels. The marks would help remind me to ensure a variety of fish were in stock before putting the matter to my man.

Even as I arrived at this splendid conclusion Jeeves had Alys halt before a cave.

I peered out of my holdall to see the “Little Folk” or Dwarfs standing guard. Stocky and fearsome, they were clad in the most spiffing display of embroidered cloth, engraved metal and decorated leather. Weapons were close to hand and their beards were intricately beaded and looking utterly marvellous.

Every colour imaginable was on offer and I for one could hardly wait to broker a deal for the exchange of garments. Perhaps they could add a perfect purple plume to Jeeves’ helmet?

There was a short conversation and then we were being escorted into the cave and…well. All I can say is that the dwarfs are outstanding engineers. The walls of the cave were hollowed out with expert precision with magically glowing crystals set at intervals. More traditional torches were secured into the ground on tall pillars of stone, their light illuminating a strange contraption which held a curved boat.

A dashed complicated and confusing pulley system was attached to the long boat – a bit similar to the one those Viking chaps had when they popped over to good old Blighty for more than a cup of tea and cake.

We were herded onto this boat whereupon this massive crack opened beneath us. It was the size of a bally cathedral!

I say, I was dashed glad for Jeeves’ presence. He had dismounted from Alys and was holding her reigns. His other hand was petting my head, for I was still safely secured in the holdall.

I meowed quietly, watching in fascination and mild horror. My eyesight was sufficient to see the pinpricks of light below us: as if the stars had dropped from the heavens to be inside the hollows of the earth.

Very pretty (and a dashed scary to boot)!

Heat rose up to us. The dwarfs stationed on the boat began to slowly lower us through the crack into a Cavernous Chasm (capitals once more well deserved!). I could smell metals and minerals and fresh air riding on numerous drafts.

We were in a space so vast I couldn’t comprehend the size of it. My fear of heights however was gone for there was only the night and stars cupping us, with extra illumination coming from the glowing crystals that were attached to the fore and aft of the boat and to the staves of three of the dwarfs.

There was no height to be afraid of, for perception was skewered – how the dwarfs managed to navigate this bally boat was an amazing feat worthy of the engineering genius of their kind.

The smell and taste of magic – life with a metallic tang – crackled among my fur and Alys’ coat. Jeeves hair was ruffled, his helmet and weapons on the saddle.

I breathed deep of Jeeves’ musky odour which calmed my nerves. My ears twitched for in the distance I could discern the faint roar of a waterfall and waterways. A jolly thing being a cat! I would miss this when I was just plain old Bertie again.

Gradually the starry night was displaced by the steady glow of more lighted crystals and we touched a still lake. The lake was in the centre of a complicated cave system, so vast that we couldn’t see the far walls.

We were ushered off onto a platform where Alys was gently led by a dwarf to a stable house just to our right. Alys whinnied and happily followed for the dwarf was chatting about food, water and warmth.

Meanwhile, we turned to the left where a dwarf was waiting. He was hale and hearty with a magnificent golden beard tucked into his belt. Jewelled beads adorned the golden hair, neatly plaited and on his head was a hat of leather to keep him clean.

The best? He had a Perfect Plume (scarlet) in his hat! Now this was the dwarf to ask for a P.P for my own Knight!

Utterly delighted I nearly missed the introduction.

We had found Ragnarr, Crafter and Smith of the Dwarfs of the Northern Crystalline Caverns.

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