the haunted kingdom by Charles E.J. Moulton (snow like ashes txt) đź“•
Excerpt from the book:
PROLOGUE: The blood brothers St. Lucifer and St. Michael are created out of one falling star. Lucifer cannot handle sharing his glory with eleven brethren and is excommunicated from heaven for playing creator. As revenge, he corrupts God’s first village and its original woman Rebecca, whose husband Joseph remains steadfast and faithful. God creates an alternate reality, but Lucifer infiltrates it with Rebecca’s reincarnation Lucinda as a good king’s exiled sister.
BOOK ONE: 15th century King Alexander III of Prosperania returns home after a trip abroad to find his family quarreling, his country attacked. Preparing for an international alliance and for the wedding of his daughter Belinda to her Prince Steven, he is haunted by old enemies, Belinda finds comfort in love and religion. The wedding is a success, up until the last day of feasting, when the king’s exiled sister Lucinda returns, sent by Prosperania’s archrival King Adnicul I of Nocturnia. She curses the country with three plagues. Shaken, the newlyweds go on their honeymoon. Belinda returns pregnant. Their son Alfred is born. A stranger, Nomed Snekawa, enters the land and becomes a man for all seasons. To cure an epidemic, Nomed produces a herbal cure that puts the palace in a deep sleep on September 23rd 1425. Nomed is Lucinda and the palace is now cursed, becoming a sleeping beauty.
BOOK TWO: When the court awakes, Nomed is gone. Savage war, perverse scandal, sickness and death then haunt the land, finally leaving Alexander alone and desperate as the only inhabitant in the haunted kingdom. But Belinda reappears, claiming that this world is Lucinda’s illusion to trap him and that the family members are all actually asleep, poisoned by Nomed and caught in hell in a time trap. Alexander’s mission is to track down his sister and kill her. Werewolves in an enchanted forest petrify him, challenging his sanity, but Belinda leads him to his three angels, who send him into The Dark Forest. There and in The Wasteland he endures demonic visions, but is protected by love. Meanwhile, King Adnicul has been betrayed and encaged by his master Lucifer, who has told him he was but a vehicle to tutor Lucinda. Adnicul’s dead servant Eric comes back to him as an angel and promises him eternal peace if he helps Alexander find his sister. Alexander is lead by his younger self to a forest tribe, who tutor him to become an magical warrior. His reward is St.Michael’s Sword.
BOOK THREE: King Alex meets an old hermit that leads him to four evangelists down in a valley. They in turn lead him closer to finding his family. The last of the evangelists is St.Michael himself, who shows him Adnicul and asks him to team up with his former enemy in order to find peace. Strongly apprehensive and plagued by nightmares at first, he learns of Adnicul’s fate. He is a reincarnation of Lucifer’s first angel and wants to return to his tree in Eden. Together, they almost
defeat a monster, but Adnicul is captured by the reawakened beast. Alexander is forced to go on without him. The third and most vicious demonic forest leads him to the Cave of Original Sin where he meets Lucinda, who tempts him with roman riches and sensual fame. Adnicul escapes the beast in order to help Alex and together they finally kill Lucinda. A race against time begins, taking them through the seven horrid levels of hell, only to find the trapped family hanging in cages above a lava tunnel where they chase away Lucifer. Adnicul finds his peace in Eden. The family returns to their own restored time and Alexander decides to erect a monument to the archangelic memory of his past.
EPILOGUE: Alexander, sitting in front of the fire in his home, is visited by old long gone friends and dies happy, knowing he will see the other side content to have succeeded in his saving mission.
BOOK ONE: 15th century King Alexander III of Prosperania returns home after a trip abroad to find his family quarreling, his country attacked. Preparing for an international alliance and for the wedding of his daughter Belinda to her Prince Steven, he is haunted by old enemies, Belinda finds comfort in love and religion. The wedding is a success, up until the last day of feasting, when the king’s exiled sister Lucinda returns, sent by Prosperania’s archrival King Adnicul I of Nocturnia. She curses the country with three plagues. Shaken, the newlyweds go on their honeymoon. Belinda returns pregnant. Their son Alfred is born. A stranger, Nomed Snekawa, enters the land and becomes a man for all seasons. To cure an epidemic, Nomed produces a herbal cure that puts the palace in a deep sleep on September 23rd 1425. Nomed is Lucinda and the palace is now cursed, becoming a sleeping beauty.
BOOK TWO: When the court awakes, Nomed is gone. Savage war, perverse scandal, sickness and death then haunt the land, finally leaving Alexander alone and desperate as the only inhabitant in the haunted kingdom. But Belinda reappears, claiming that this world is Lucinda’s illusion to trap him and that the family members are all actually asleep, poisoned by Nomed and caught in hell in a time trap. Alexander’s mission is to track down his sister and kill her. Werewolves in an enchanted forest petrify him, challenging his sanity, but Belinda leads him to his three angels, who send him into The Dark Forest. There and in The Wasteland he endures demonic visions, but is protected by love. Meanwhile, King Adnicul has been betrayed and encaged by his master Lucifer, who has told him he was but a vehicle to tutor Lucinda. Adnicul’s dead servant Eric comes back to him as an angel and promises him eternal peace if he helps Alexander find his sister. Alexander is lead by his younger self to a forest tribe, who tutor him to become an magical warrior. His reward is St.Michael’s Sword.
BOOK THREE: King Alex meets an old hermit that leads him to four evangelists down in a valley. They in turn lead him closer to finding his family. The last of the evangelists is St.Michael himself, who shows him Adnicul and asks him to team up with his former enemy in order to find peace. Strongly apprehensive and plagued by nightmares at first, he learns of Adnicul’s fate. He is a reincarnation of Lucifer’s first angel and wants to return to his tree in Eden. Together, they almost
defeat a monster, but Adnicul is captured by the reawakened beast. Alexander is forced to go on without him. The third and most vicious demonic forest leads him to the Cave of Original Sin where he meets Lucinda, who tempts him with roman riches and sensual fame. Adnicul escapes the beast in order to help Alex and together they finally kill Lucinda. A race against time begins, taking them through the seven horrid levels of hell, only to find the trapped family hanging in cages above a lava tunnel where they chase away Lucifer. Adnicul finds his peace in Eden. The family returns to their own restored time and Alexander decides to erect a monument to the archangelic memory of his past.
EPILOGUE: Alexander, sitting in front of the fire in his home, is visited by old long gone friends and dies happy, knowing he will see the other side content to have succeeded in his saving mission.
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Steven. Good. I won’t need to hit you later. The Ring, Tom. Put the Ring on, Steven.
The archbishop wears a beaming smile.
Oh, this is so beautiful. I am so happy.
Steven touched Belinda lightly with one finger and she answered the flirt.
I love him. Maria dear one, the Ring. Thank you. Let me get the Ring on. Good
“Will you …”
“I WILL!”
Belinda’s voice rang out through the church like a bell. A gust of wind came in through the church and ruffled her hair under the veil. Cheers were heard from the outside and Belinda felt like holding Steven close to her and just cuddling up by a fire. A spirit was here.
“Belinda …” a voice whispered from her inner self. “What are you doing? The attack was only two months, two weeks and five days ago. The threat has not disappeared. Do you know the future, Belinda? Do you know the future? Can you tell me the …”
She shivered.
“Belinda …” a voice called to her from reality. She looked at Steven. He lifted the veil. She had disappeared for a moment and returned with a kiss. She forgot the ghost and smiled.
The happiest day.
That voice again.
”Belinda … do you know the future? Be careful during the feast.”
“Who are you? What are you doing here on my wedding day?”
Faint cheers from outside. She could hear them, but this voice was stronger.
“Who do you think I am? Be careful during the celebrations, be alert, don’t relax.”
Steven smiled. Belinda returned one. They kiss. It never wants to cease.
I love you. Forever, I am here. Where are you, Raphael?
Evening time, the Grand Hall, the Fifth Hour of the Feast
Nomed and Bantrard were in the focal point of the hall with the orchestra and the new jester. The ensemble had been improvising and improving on Bantrard’s tune, “Stamp Your Feet For Love Is In Town,” for about a half-hour now. Four different times during that dance Belinda and Steven had switched partners, always going back to one another. Practically everyone was up and dancing.
There was so much ale and mead and wine circulating that it was hard to see straight. So much food that the guests either found themselves drunk with the sheer sight of it all or full of what was on tables. Chicken, geese, peacock, duck, elk and every other kind of meat was on the tables. Asparagus, meatballs, partridge, calves, capons and pigeons, boar, roast sheep, turtledoves, partridges, pheasants, quail. Belinda was constantly laughing, the fifty flickering torches in the room dazzling in her beautiful eyes, almost making it too hard to see where she danced. The flames flickered in the light of brown reindeer eyes. She lifted her dress and danced so hard that she almost broke her shoes.
Bantrard was stamping his feet, closing his eyes, full of sweat.
STAMP YOUR FEET FOR LOVE IS IN TOWN
Estampie in 6/8 with Saltarello for voice, fidicula, aulos, recorder, shawm, zither and kettledrum
From the sea coast to the forest
In the country that raises our crown
The vigour of a thousand dreams
Reverberates in the form of a sound.
It is the roar that strengthens the weak,
And the hope that rejuvenates the old,
It is the power that, as we speak,
Entails a tale yet untold
It is the untold story,
It is the newfound glory,
It is the men we are
Carried by the women that travel far.
From the North Star in the middle to the Capricorn down south
Love is the affection that works best mouth to mouth,
There is no doubt, no reason,
To sit and brood my friend,
Nuptial folly is the best, so be jolly,
The sound that keeps us alive is the sound of another one’s heart.
Na-na-naaa …
Stamp your feet for love is in Town
Nananaaa …Nananaanaaa …
Love is in town
From the west side to the east side …
Belinda was in ecstasy, it was a sensation that life was something she should live to the fullest.
“Stop the wedding celebrations, Belinda! Please, it is enough that you have awoken the beast…
Don’t rub it in! Listen to my warning! End it here, send the guests home and you will fool her…”
She took her husband by the hand and danced with him, he went down on his knees and applauded whilst she danced around him lifting her skirt and the people made a circle around them as they were dancing. He was given a wine bottle and drank out of it as he banged with a wooden spoon on the bottle given to him by someone else, eating a chicken from the hands of Morgana laughing wickedly. Belinda took a bite herself and danced and sang, as she never had before.
With chicken in her mouth and wine dripping down to her cleavage, she giggled.
“Belinda! Do you know the future?”
“Who are you?” That voice again was calling out to her somewhere in the dark.
Never mind. She would just dance it away, brightly howling that she was happy.
Dance now. Dance later. Dance in fifty years. Drool on the tables. Sing while she ate. Eat while she sang. Drink all kinds of alcohol. Stamping her feet and looking up toward the gilded ceiling and walking up the tapestries of Roman Gods, taking the servants by the hand in order to just dance. Make sure to have a good time. Belinda began hopping up and down to the beat of the kettledrum.
For every hop there was a shout. For every shout there was a hop.
“Yes, Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Clap. Clap.”
The entire crowd on its knees, Belinda was the star and the toast of the town.
“In Clurafar they are drunk as well. Drunk as well. Drunk as well.”
Belinda ran to the table, took a bottle from it and gulped down the contents; she threw the bottle into the fireplace and continued dancing.
“Stamp your feet, love’s in town, there is no place, for a frown.
From the east, to the west, make the rounds, pass the test. Stamp your feet, love’s in town.
Nananaaa … Nananaa “
Happy people completely pissed. Royally drunk.
Somewhere in the night a spirit waiting.
“Na-na-na-na-naa-na-na-naaaa …Love is in town. Ohhh … west, east, north south …
Make the movements …Pass the test … West, north, east, south …Can you go that quick … Stuff yourself so full of peacock that you will be sick.
Father, sing with me. Steven, you do a solo …”
Late Evening
Belinda Winsletenna knew that other people were dancing around her. Alexander was dancing with Sieglinde. Patrick with Erica. Maria with Martin. Eleonora with Marcus. Morgana with Richard. Mormidar with Escamilla. Even Cretan with Patricia. Oh my, even Mrs. Johnstone with Rolf.
The music was soft. The aulos played a melody over a sweet row of lutes. No drums this time. In the middle of the song there was a lute playing a nice intermezzo over the tender tunes of a fidicula. The baritone gems of a low fidiculas sang in a minor key against the Hispanic rhythm of the night.
There was a scent of late summer, flowers, perfume, chicken and wine in the air. These smells were the floral company mingling with the elves of a soaring melody.
Belinda could feel her bosom heave and rise to the magic sew-saw feeling of the simultaneous rise and heave of Steven’s bosom. As his heaved hers raised and vice versa. In this magic moment of slow dancing, Belinda looked into her husband’s eyes. His irises bore a rich, beautiful colour that spoke to her of understanding and love, of sweet night filled with tender lovemaking. He smiled at her with such bliss that her brown soul mirrors melted in the face of that newlywed fabric of nuptial paradise.
Her eyes were opening wide and looking into a pair of more lovely features than she had ever seen. She was a married woman. Whatever followed, how hard or easy the future may become, would be possible to overcome only with the help of love’s bliss. There was an echo of a sweeter world here.
A world prior to shame and agony. A world existing in eons past evil and hatred. This perfect world was glowing in the eyes of newly married couple.
Prince Steven of the Eastern County of Gargetania and Princess Belinda of the Capital of Clurafar. Belinda smiled at her husband.
“Husband.” she spoke. “Will you be true to me, husband?”
He half-smiled, gently, “My heart is a rose and that rose has only one home: your heart.”
“Never take that rose away from my soul, Steven.” Belinda said leaning against his chest again.
When they kissed, the Grand Hall lit up, spiritually glowing. The angels sighed when gazing upon the young royal couple. They sighed just as they had sighed when the three kings had given the baby Jesus their gifts upon the day of epiphany.
They sighed just as they did when any human soul found what could be called genuine true love. Their love was their personal gift to the Cherubim and the Seraphim.
After Midnight
The echoes of a drunken crowd kept on reverberating in the hall when the couples had long since stopped singing. Everyone’s ears and bones and joints were aching, due to the full bellies and the tired feet and the splitting headaches. There were a few other couples dancing happily to soft music.
Bantrard seemed to have the endurance of fifty men, sitting there six hours straight and playing and singing and emoting. Most of the musicians had gone home and Rolf kept on pouring him mead and bringing him meat. He would gulp it down fast and continue playing. His blond hair hung in tousled hairballs and his jacket hung across the chair. The fireplace sent a heat wave across to the oak chair that had his back produce pints of liquid.
What was sweet was that one of the sopranos was leaning her head against his shoulder as he playing and sang. She hummed with the tune and the young drummer Igalfur would lightly bang on the drum whilst Joseph Ringingstone slowly played his bass line on the Tubarlo. The aulos played along softly with the melody that seemed odd and familiar somehow. It was an echo of a bygone time, soft, light, lovely and fine. Full of feelings that spoke to the entourage exactly what they wanted to hear: we are all here to enjoy life, together forever in love. Kisses sweet for the spiritually sweet.
Morgana slept in Richard’s lap. Her resonant snore gave everyone the urge to giggle slightly.
Next to her the Cocker Spaniel Henry was dreaming and barking in his sleep in Patricia’s lap.
Lance and Lisa were chatting about the best tutors. Alexander was talking with Patricia, Erica and Patrick about horses. Sieglinde and Escamilla giggling quietly somewhere else. Someone chewed on a chicken leg. Ulfaas was belching, completely unable to get up. He was drinking, belching and a quiet wind passing flatus. So drunk it was funny to Geena. Mormidar laughed at him.
Tom listened to Bantrard’s music. The other musicians were on the floor chatting. It was a quiet midnight. There was chattering. . An echo of a successful night. There was wind outside, but love inside.
Steven and Belinda’s Royal Bed Chamber
Two naked bodies lay on a bed, sweat running down their bodies, muscles aching, bare physique in the light of a full moon, the breeze coming in from the open door, crickets outside faintly humming.
The archbishop wears a beaming smile.
Oh, this is so beautiful. I am so happy.
Steven touched Belinda lightly with one finger and she answered the flirt.
I love him. Maria dear one, the Ring. Thank you. Let me get the Ring on. Good
“Will you …”
“I WILL!”
Belinda’s voice rang out through the church like a bell. A gust of wind came in through the church and ruffled her hair under the veil. Cheers were heard from the outside and Belinda felt like holding Steven close to her and just cuddling up by a fire. A spirit was here.
“Belinda …” a voice whispered from her inner self. “What are you doing? The attack was only two months, two weeks and five days ago. The threat has not disappeared. Do you know the future, Belinda? Do you know the future? Can you tell me the …”
She shivered.
“Belinda …” a voice called to her from reality. She looked at Steven. He lifted the veil. She had disappeared for a moment and returned with a kiss. She forgot the ghost and smiled.
The happiest day.
That voice again.
”Belinda … do you know the future? Be careful during the feast.”
“Who are you? What are you doing here on my wedding day?”
Faint cheers from outside. She could hear them, but this voice was stronger.
“Who do you think I am? Be careful during the celebrations, be alert, don’t relax.”
Steven smiled. Belinda returned one. They kiss. It never wants to cease.
I love you. Forever, I am here. Where are you, Raphael?
Evening time, the Grand Hall, the Fifth Hour of the Feast
Nomed and Bantrard were in the focal point of the hall with the orchestra and the new jester. The ensemble had been improvising and improving on Bantrard’s tune, “Stamp Your Feet For Love Is In Town,” for about a half-hour now. Four different times during that dance Belinda and Steven had switched partners, always going back to one another. Practically everyone was up and dancing.
There was so much ale and mead and wine circulating that it was hard to see straight. So much food that the guests either found themselves drunk with the sheer sight of it all or full of what was on tables. Chicken, geese, peacock, duck, elk and every other kind of meat was on the tables. Asparagus, meatballs, partridge, calves, capons and pigeons, boar, roast sheep, turtledoves, partridges, pheasants, quail. Belinda was constantly laughing, the fifty flickering torches in the room dazzling in her beautiful eyes, almost making it too hard to see where she danced. The flames flickered in the light of brown reindeer eyes. She lifted her dress and danced so hard that she almost broke her shoes.
Bantrard was stamping his feet, closing his eyes, full of sweat.
STAMP YOUR FEET FOR LOVE IS IN TOWN
Estampie in 6/8 with Saltarello for voice, fidicula, aulos, recorder, shawm, zither and kettledrum
From the sea coast to the forest
In the country that raises our crown
The vigour of a thousand dreams
Reverberates in the form of a sound.
It is the roar that strengthens the weak,
And the hope that rejuvenates the old,
It is the power that, as we speak,
Entails a tale yet untold
It is the untold story,
It is the newfound glory,
It is the men we are
Carried by the women that travel far.
From the North Star in the middle to the Capricorn down south
Love is the affection that works best mouth to mouth,
There is no doubt, no reason,
To sit and brood my friend,
Nuptial folly is the best, so be jolly,
The sound that keeps us alive is the sound of another one’s heart.
Na-na-naaa …
Stamp your feet for love is in Town
Nananaaa …Nananaanaaa …
Love is in town
From the west side to the east side …
Belinda was in ecstasy, it was a sensation that life was something she should live to the fullest.
“Stop the wedding celebrations, Belinda! Please, it is enough that you have awoken the beast…
Don’t rub it in! Listen to my warning! End it here, send the guests home and you will fool her…”
She took her husband by the hand and danced with him, he went down on his knees and applauded whilst she danced around him lifting her skirt and the people made a circle around them as they were dancing. He was given a wine bottle and drank out of it as he banged with a wooden spoon on the bottle given to him by someone else, eating a chicken from the hands of Morgana laughing wickedly. Belinda took a bite herself and danced and sang, as she never had before.
With chicken in her mouth and wine dripping down to her cleavage, she giggled.
“Belinda! Do you know the future?”
“Who are you?” That voice again was calling out to her somewhere in the dark.
Never mind. She would just dance it away, brightly howling that she was happy.
Dance now. Dance later. Dance in fifty years. Drool on the tables. Sing while she ate. Eat while she sang. Drink all kinds of alcohol. Stamping her feet and looking up toward the gilded ceiling and walking up the tapestries of Roman Gods, taking the servants by the hand in order to just dance. Make sure to have a good time. Belinda began hopping up and down to the beat of the kettledrum.
For every hop there was a shout. For every shout there was a hop.
“Yes, Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Clap. Clap.”
The entire crowd on its knees, Belinda was the star and the toast of the town.
“In Clurafar they are drunk as well. Drunk as well. Drunk as well.”
Belinda ran to the table, took a bottle from it and gulped down the contents; she threw the bottle into the fireplace and continued dancing.
“Stamp your feet, love’s in town, there is no place, for a frown.
From the east, to the west, make the rounds, pass the test. Stamp your feet, love’s in town.
Nananaaa … Nananaa “
Happy people completely pissed. Royally drunk.
Somewhere in the night a spirit waiting.
“Na-na-na-na-naa-na-na-naaaa …Love is in town. Ohhh … west, east, north south …
Make the movements …Pass the test … West, north, east, south …Can you go that quick … Stuff yourself so full of peacock that you will be sick.
Father, sing with me. Steven, you do a solo …”
Late Evening
Belinda Winsletenna knew that other people were dancing around her. Alexander was dancing with Sieglinde. Patrick with Erica. Maria with Martin. Eleonora with Marcus. Morgana with Richard. Mormidar with Escamilla. Even Cretan with Patricia. Oh my, even Mrs. Johnstone with Rolf.
The music was soft. The aulos played a melody over a sweet row of lutes. No drums this time. In the middle of the song there was a lute playing a nice intermezzo over the tender tunes of a fidicula. The baritone gems of a low fidiculas sang in a minor key against the Hispanic rhythm of the night.
There was a scent of late summer, flowers, perfume, chicken and wine in the air. These smells were the floral company mingling with the elves of a soaring melody.
Belinda could feel her bosom heave and rise to the magic sew-saw feeling of the simultaneous rise and heave of Steven’s bosom. As his heaved hers raised and vice versa. In this magic moment of slow dancing, Belinda looked into her husband’s eyes. His irises bore a rich, beautiful colour that spoke to her of understanding and love, of sweet night filled with tender lovemaking. He smiled at her with such bliss that her brown soul mirrors melted in the face of that newlywed fabric of nuptial paradise.
Her eyes were opening wide and looking into a pair of more lovely features than she had ever seen. She was a married woman. Whatever followed, how hard or easy the future may become, would be possible to overcome only with the help of love’s bliss. There was an echo of a sweeter world here.
A world prior to shame and agony. A world existing in eons past evil and hatred. This perfect world was glowing in the eyes of newly married couple.
Prince Steven of the Eastern County of Gargetania and Princess Belinda of the Capital of Clurafar. Belinda smiled at her husband.
“Husband.” she spoke. “Will you be true to me, husband?”
He half-smiled, gently, “My heart is a rose and that rose has only one home: your heart.”
“Never take that rose away from my soul, Steven.” Belinda said leaning against his chest again.
When they kissed, the Grand Hall lit up, spiritually glowing. The angels sighed when gazing upon the young royal couple. They sighed just as they had sighed when the three kings had given the baby Jesus their gifts upon the day of epiphany.
They sighed just as they did when any human soul found what could be called genuine true love. Their love was their personal gift to the Cherubim and the Seraphim.
After Midnight
The echoes of a drunken crowd kept on reverberating in the hall when the couples had long since stopped singing. Everyone’s ears and bones and joints were aching, due to the full bellies and the tired feet and the splitting headaches. There were a few other couples dancing happily to soft music.
Bantrard seemed to have the endurance of fifty men, sitting there six hours straight and playing and singing and emoting. Most of the musicians had gone home and Rolf kept on pouring him mead and bringing him meat. He would gulp it down fast and continue playing. His blond hair hung in tousled hairballs and his jacket hung across the chair. The fireplace sent a heat wave across to the oak chair that had his back produce pints of liquid.
What was sweet was that one of the sopranos was leaning her head against his shoulder as he playing and sang. She hummed with the tune and the young drummer Igalfur would lightly bang on the drum whilst Joseph Ringingstone slowly played his bass line on the Tubarlo. The aulos played along softly with the melody that seemed odd and familiar somehow. It was an echo of a bygone time, soft, light, lovely and fine. Full of feelings that spoke to the entourage exactly what they wanted to hear: we are all here to enjoy life, together forever in love. Kisses sweet for the spiritually sweet.
Morgana slept in Richard’s lap. Her resonant snore gave everyone the urge to giggle slightly.
Next to her the Cocker Spaniel Henry was dreaming and barking in his sleep in Patricia’s lap.
Lance and Lisa were chatting about the best tutors. Alexander was talking with Patricia, Erica and Patrick about horses. Sieglinde and Escamilla giggling quietly somewhere else. Someone chewed on a chicken leg. Ulfaas was belching, completely unable to get up. He was drinking, belching and a quiet wind passing flatus. So drunk it was funny to Geena. Mormidar laughed at him.
Tom listened to Bantrard’s music. The other musicians were on the floor chatting. It was a quiet midnight. There was chattering. . An echo of a successful night. There was wind outside, but love inside.
Steven and Belinda’s Royal Bed Chamber
Two naked bodies lay on a bed, sweat running down their bodies, muscles aching, bare physique in the light of a full moon, the breeze coming in from the open door, crickets outside faintly humming.
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