give_satisfaction | Let The Kinkiness Begin!

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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!

=^_^=