give_satisfaction | Let The Kinkiness Begin!

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From: (Anonymous)

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!

☆☆☆

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.

☆☆☆

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.

☆☆☆

From: (Anonymous)

Part 4 – The Dwarven Folk of the Northern Crystalline Caverns Continued

Ragnarr sat astride the stone chair in his smithy, smoking his pipe with a contemplative expression. His brown eyes were of the piercing sort – you felt as if an arrow had sailed right through you when his gaze focused on your person.

Most alarming.

Naturally Jeeves was unfazed and returned an assessing look upon the Master Dwarf, full of a similar piercing quality, as well as that bright intelligence that is sharper than a dragon’s tooth and brighter than the sun.

Clearly this was the occasion for a Wooster to remain silent.

I did my best, but after half an hour I was restless and had the jitters.
So I uncurled myself from where I had plonked the old form next to the fire, (hot enough to scorch toast!), and began batting about a few stray embers. The exercise did me good, and I fancy, showed me off most handsomely to my Knight who stole appreciative glances towards me.

Otherwise, I ignored both gentlemen for their conversation was of a philosophical bent, with much “improving of the mind” books being debated. While I am sure that such subjects are eminently suitable for Jeeves’ B. and Ragnarr’s perceptive mind, this Feline Prince preferred a nourishing drink to wet the whistle, scrumptious food and a perfect cup of tea.

Currently, said F.P. also relished raw meat, long grass, splashing in the water to capture a jumping fish and chasing The Thread of Doom and the Bright Ember of the Forge, but a Wooster knows how to adapt.

The B.E. of the F. captivated me for a while until I discovered the box of feathers stashed away in a dark sooty corner.

The battle was underway.

The Code of the Wooster’s demanded I take retribution on the elusive feathers so I yowled to announce war, (couldn’t take them by surprise, wouldn’t be honourable), and pounced.

A fast feathery fight later I collapsed with my prize: a bevy of purple feathers of all different shades. I hoped that Ragnarr would permit me to keep them for Jeeves’ plumage.

Indeed, the Master Dwarf was evidently amused by something for he was laughing when I took note of the Knight and Dwarf. Jeeves’ eyes were merry and his face a shiny disc of happiness.

“The feathers take your fancy Fair Prince?” asked Ragnarr, his voice as deep as the mountain he resided in, and thick and sweet as honey.

“For…for…Jeeves,” I panted. Hmpf, what could Jeeves mean by that look of alarm? No bally rats here!

Ragnarr chuckled. “Well then, I can’t say no to such a handsome cat. May I ask what Sir Jeeves is meant to do with your feathers?”

I grinned, preening even as I tried to paw off the feather balanced on the top of my head. “Plumage for his helmet. Jeeves will match my collar - and shoes – then. The Perfect P.P.!”

Jeeves went slightly pale and I realised he must be faint from the heat.

“Perfect Purple Plumage,” I explained even as I rose, shook the feathers out of my fur and wandered over to Jeeves, tail straight up in joy.

I placed a ginger white paw on Jeeves’ leg and mustered up as much sternness as possessed by the Wooster lineage, (in my dreaded Aunts – far too much).

“Have some water Jeeves, you have gone terribly pale. Reminds me of the time when Gussie lost Madeline’s book when looking for newts. Poor chap – poor me!”

Ragnarr was coughing for some reason, must be his billowing pipe, while Jeeves merely nodded and drank without speaking. I shrugged and paid attention to the Dwarf who spoke while Jeeves was fortifying himself.

“I can easily forge this goblet for you. Wait in my house and it shall be done by the time the sun sets today, for you must drink the potion in the moonlight, when the rays of the rising moon can fall upon the liquid contents.”

A shiver passed through me. I would miss being a cat, but being the human Bertie again would be most spiffing.

“How much?” I asked.

“Sir Jeeves has paid the price,” reassured Ragnarr. “His conversation and company are rewards in their own right, but he has blessed me with two books of great knowledge and wisdom. As for fashioning a plumage on his helmet…I would be glad to in exchange for an opportunity to discuss open trade between my peoples and yours.”

I grinned and meowed happily, tail bushy and purring as I responded, “It would by my pleasure!”

☆☆☆

Thus it was, as a cold night closed in and a white moon rose that Jeeves and I were waiting outside the caverns of the Dwarfs.

Jeeves sat cross-legged; the freshly brewed potion contained in a silver goblet. The only design was one of ravens, dragons, a knight on a horse and a cat outside a castle. Symbols of a Quest thus far.

I waited next to him, the fragrance of the potion teasing my nose. It was the most wonderous smell, the scents of the wild we had travelled through, the beings we had met, and of Jeeves.

Gradually the white moon crested the horizon as darkness fully fell. The Dwarfs behind us had lit lanterns and unveiled the crystals spelled with magic to illuminate the night. Ivory moonbeams fell upon the potion, catching the crystal that was nestled at the bottom of the cup.

The colours that Honoria had coaxed into life within the crystal gleamed bright in the moon, turning the golden liquid a medley of colour.

The time was nigh.

I couldn’t tell you how I knew that I must drink then or be trapped forever as a cat, but somehow this Wooster understood that the Quest would be for naught if I did not act immediately.

So in a single bound I was balanced on one muscular leg, with a front paw resting on Jeeves’ left arm. Dipping my head down I drank deeply.

As my tongue lapped away memories swirled through me. My fear and resentment at Aunt Agatha, my determination to be free, my desperation….followed by my awe and hope at meeting Jeeves, my growing love for Jeeves, my exhilaration at being a cat – the joy at befriending a dragon, the heat of battle when defending Meirion the Dragon, my wonder at realising Honoria was a Sorceress…the starry night of the yawning Chasm that led to the Crystalline Caverns inhabited by the Dwarfs.

So many memories, scents, emotions and sensations washed through me like a wave until at last all the potion was drunk and I was licking my whiskers clean.

Gazing up at the silent moon, now much higher in the heavens, I shivered as her beams cupped me in a peculiar warmth that was jolly welcome. My belly was hot and full, my spirit burning bright – as if I had just enough wine at the Drones, but not too much.

Exhaling, I jumped off Jeeves as if in a dream and heard my concerned K. asking if I was well.

I couldn’t answer for all of a sudden I was changing.

In a dreamlike blur I witnessed my fur retreating, my claws becoming nails and my purple shoes popping back into being. In a jiffy, Bertie Wooster, Prince of the Western Wilds was once more human.

My clothes sadly to say were not suitable for such a cold climate.

“I say Jeeves it is bally cold! I don’t suppose you have a blanket?”

My wonderful Knight was blinking back tears and I was engulfed by those powerful arms I admired so much.

Let me tell you, they were fantastic as a kitty, but simply smashing when human.

The kiss was a corker.

Just perfect.

☆☆☆

With that our Quest was complete. Naturally, more had to be done. A long and arduous journey home awaited us, with a fight against the dreaded Aunt Agatha, the Wicked Witch of Weeping Willows.

Yet we didn’t face the dreaded Aunt Agatha, the W.W. of Weeping Willows on our lonesome.

No, for on our return furlong we gathered all the companions and friends we had met: Ragnarr, greatest Crafter and Smith of his people in the Far Northern Crystalline Caverns; Honoria – the Sorceress Raven of Ravenous Reaches; Meirion the Dragon who had cured the Baron’s lands, transforming them from Sickly Swamp to Sweetly Scented Swamp.

As one we faced my aunt and banished her.

Weeping Willows were no more, rather they became Winsome Willows – full of the simple joy of varied plant life and fauna.

Unfortunately, I can’t go into the details here as that is quite a different adventure full of derring-do, sorcery, unbeatable ingenuity from our Master Dwarf and Jeeves’ brilliant B. dealing all sorts of tactical genius, while yours truly utilised all the sneaky tricks I had learnt when a cat.

I will say that my purple shoes positively make me as silent and sure footed as any feline. Jeeves’ expression is always one of horrified awe. Quite splendid.

Any meow, I have prattled on long enough.

Maybe one day, when the old noggin is feeling up to it and I’m not gadding about after our bevy of children, (another tale for another day!), I shall pen the details of our Voyage Home, our Battle against Aunt A., my marriage to Jeeves and the subsequent treaties we initiated once our lands were as one.

First, I must have a cup of tea. An exhausting business all this adventuring! Now, where is my dragon tea-service?

“Bingo! Gussie! Honoria? Have you seen the bally tea-cups? I’m sure they were in the cupboard. Oh no, children!”

☆ And they lived Happily Ever After ☆

Many years later..

They Lived Happily Ever After is a jolly promising ending – and quite true! Despite a few upsets throughout life we had a bally excellent journey through life I can tell you. Quests and friendships and advancements in medicine and engineering – too much to count.

Now we rest, allowing our children and grandchildren to take the reins.

What tales of wonder will they weave? As long as I can find the tea-service I’m sure it will be fine.

On that note, I must leave you to fetch tea for Jeeves – he was seeing to the grandchildren and our guests: an Ancient Dragon – our dear friend Meirion, Honoria the Sorceress of Ravenous Reaches and her wife, and Ragnarr with his beard now long and pearlescent white.

So toodlepip!

May you all have a Happily Ever After as well – Meow!

=^_^=