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Dowager Empress Morrigan SKE~BOB

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Gender: Female
Status: Single
Age: 114
Country: Italy

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January 24, 2013


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01/31/2013 06:26 PM 

Grainne, Morrigan and Rauhl (cont)

Chapter 5) Grainne the terror of the sea


From her base located on the island of Insi Orc, the Isle of Wild Pigs, under the cover of night in her black-stained, long ship; the Morrigan's revenge, with her mighty Pictish seamen of the Orcadian, Lugi and Caledonii tribes at her side, Grainne was able to successfully raid Ulster's coastline without mercy, day after day, month after month, taking anything of value that she could carry off and burning what could not be carried off. Grainne was utilizing Ulster's deep rivers to lay waste to all the coastal and inland villages.

Back at Emain Macha, Conchobar mac Nessa was falling out of favor with the nobles, and the people of Ulster. The Ultonians were fast losing faith in their once strong king, and were now demanding the return of Fergus mac Roich as King of Ulster, so that he could return the Kingdom of Ulster to its glory days.

The Kingdoms of Connacht and Leinster could smell the stench of fear on the winds from Ulster, and were now threatening Ulster with war, seeing that the Ulster king could not defend his coast against a rabble band of sea-raiders, it seem a ripe time to rattle the spears of war against a kingdom that for eons has bragged of its staunch defense against all invaders, be they Erin-born or otherwise.

The king ordered the majority of the Red Branch warriors to patrol the porous borders against the gathering war bands. The remaining detachments were sent to the coastal areas, to attempt to capture the sea queen called the Red Girl. This left Emain Macha with only the Boy's troop, under the command of Conchobar's son Follamain, and the king's champion, Fergus mac Roich, to guard and defend the great fortress of Emain Macha.

Word quickly traveled back to Grainne at Insi Orc, that Conchobar has left his fortress ill-equip to properly defend itself, against an attack, and that only a group of noble-born whelps stood between Grainne and Fergus mac Roich. Grainne chuckled to herself, her debt to the Phantom Queen will be soon be paid in full, when in triumph she is able to hold the head of Fergus mac Roich on high in the air for all to see. His severed head will adorn the black-stain prow of her ship, as an honored trophy of her accomplishment.

Much preparation was to be taken for this dangerous raid upon the hill fortress of Macha. Grainne purchase several more long ships from her contacts within the Saxon Kingdoms, and recruited more Pictish sea-raiders from the Pictish Kingdom of Cait, and Fidach.

She kept the Red Branch occupied by intensifying her raids along Ulster's eastern coast, laying waste to all the villages and settlements. The few Red Branch assigned to the coast were powerless in stopping or capturing the much hated Red Girl. They were either too late in responding, or too few in numbers to face the Red Girl and her Pictish wild men.

The time was right when a fierce winter storm swept over Ulster, bringing with it dark, ominous clouds, that obstructed the glowing luminescence of the Rowan moon and stars. The howl of the storm's wind and driving sheets of icy rain left one deaf to the sound of approaching death. For on this night, the ravens of the Battle goddess, with Donn the Dark one, and Cromm Cruaich the Slaughterer of the mound, rode on the storm winds and clouds.

With several ship loads of horses and warriors from the Pictish houses of the Horse, Eagle, seal and Boar, Grainne guided her ships against the current of the river Bhanna, entering unnoticed into the enormous lake of Neathach with its numerous islands. From Neathach, Grainne and her company of warriors rode like demons through Ulster's moors and forest to lay bloody siege upon the defenseless fortress of Conchobar.

The Picts breach the fortress walls with ease, throwing the gates open for Grainne and her savage force. The night was rip asunder with the unnerving war-cries of the Pictish warriors as they rode through the fortress laying torch to anything that could burn, and spilling the blood of any that would dare stand their ground.

Thrice fifty of the Boy's troop gave their lives on that sad night, in the brave defense of Emain Macha. The youths fought as bravely and valiantly as any Red Branch would have done in their stead.

Grainne had no problem finding the giant warrior called Fergus mac Roich, for he was in the middle of a murderous maelstrom of flashing blades. The ground around his feet was littered with numerous hacked bodies of Grainne's warriors. Snarling, painted warriors were cut down by Fergus' heavy two-handed sword; they were but wheat to his sharp blade.

Grainne came to the conclusion that attacking the giant warrior head on was futile and costly. Climbing to the rooftop of a nearby building, Grainne position herself above and behind the red-haired warrior, who was making easy work of her fierce warriors. With a shrill war-cry, Grainne launch herself upon the unaware warrior below. Blade held in both hands, Grainne drove the blade deep into his body, sinking the blade to the hilt. Fergus gave only a short cry of surprise as he sunk to the gore splattered ground, his eyes rolling back inside his head.

Grainne's victory was short lived as the air was torn asunder by the war-horns of the chariot-chieftains of the Red Branch. The thunderous roar of the horse's hoofs, chariot wheels and the blood-curling war cries of the Red Branch added to the night's confusion. Before Grainne's Pictish warriors could regroup and turn to battle the new threat, the Red Branch was upon them with a red vengeance. Razor-sharp sickle blade attach to the chariot wheel hubs, cut Grainne's men down as if they were but a field of meadow grass.

Thrice that night, death came close to Grainne herself, as an iron ball from the sling of a Red Branch shattered her sword; as she attempted to remove the head of Fergus mac Roich and a light javelin graze her temple, laying her open to her hair line with a nasty gash. The second javelin drove deep into her upper thigh. The Red Girl cried out in pain as one of her warriors remove the shaft from her flesh.

Making a sound decision, she thought it prudent to make a hasty retreat from the fortress back to the awaiting ships. Orders from Grainne were passed on, for each warrior to take with him a member of the Boy's Troop to be held for ransom.

The raiders were fortunate to have escaped the confine of Emain Macha on their swift mounts; the rain soak ground allowed Grainne to out race the chariot warriors of Ulster, losing them in the stormy weather.

Safely back on her ship in open waters once again, Grainne came to realize that she was holding as hostage, several young children of King Conchobar and Fergus mac Roich, children of Ulster's Red Ross lineage.

Days later an arrangement was made between the chiefs of the Red Branch and the reavers for the safe return of the noble born children. Conchobar and the Ulster nobles were to pay a kingly fee in silver, gold, pearls, jewelry and livestock with caskets of quality wine to the Red Girl for the safe return of their love ones.

Instructions were given in detail that the ransom was to be left in a marked cave, on the ancient boot-shaped island of Reachlainn. Only after the ransom has been retrieve by Grainne's warriors, and no scullery was about, then only then would she agree to release the children back to Ulster.

The ransom was delivered as instructed, to the Isle that laid to Ulster's north east coast. Conchobar kept his word as a man of honor that no trap was to be laid for the capture of the Red Girl and her Pictish warriors. Conchobar soon doubted his decision, as the days turned into weeks, and there was no word or sighting of the kidnapped lads of the Boy's Troop.

It was a full month past before seven of the children were sighted, crying and wandering aimlessly along the coastline. Tied to each of their waist, was a leather bag made of seal skin.

The warriors who found the children were seasoned, battle-hardened warriors use to the horrors of the battle field. What they found in the leather sacks that day truly sickened their stomachs. In each sack contain the severed heads of Ulster's lads of the Boy's troop, as young as seven.

The heads belong to the young sons of Ulster King Conchobar mac Nessa, and his kinsman and champion, Fergus mac Roich. The boys were well known and loved by all the Red Branch warriors and the people of Emain Macha.

Grief and sorrow tore at the king's heart as he held the heads of his slain boys against his heaving chest. Conchobar spoke some words to each of them and then cried out in a tear-fill voice.

"I Conchobar mac Nessa, son of Fachtna Fathach the giant, swear by the gods by whom my people swear, that I will right this terrible wrong___ this murder committed upon my kin___ my blood. If I fail in my task, may the land open to swallow me, the sea rise to drown me, and the sky fall upon me."
Conchobar threw back his head and gave a great howl of grief as he curse the day his path cross that of the Red Girl.

Dark terrible days followed the Kingdom of Ulster from that day forth, as the chieftains of the Red Branch tried to defend their boarders from the southern kingdoms of Connacht, Leinster and Munster, as Ulster's champion Fergus mac Roich laid on his death bed on the brink of taking his final journey to the land of the dead.

Conchobar mac Nessa, the King of Ulster overcome with grief and madness, hired a mercenary force, leaving Ulster at her most dire moment so that he could lead the hunt for the Red Girl and her Pictish reavers.



Chapter 6) Grainne's fall from grace


In the grip of his madness, Conchobar could only think of vengeance. The dire peril of his kingdom in Ulster was pushed far from his mind. Honor required that he repay the Red Girl in kind for the suffering that was unjustly placed on him. Island after Island, Conchobar would search for the whereabouts of the Red Girl and her Pictish warriors. Each time, Conchobar would hire on more and more men who also had a score to settle with the sea queen.

Grainne was feeling the pressure of Conchobar's man hunt. The island of Insi Orc was no longer as safe as she liked. The Orcadian chieftains made it quite clear to red-haired female leader that she was to leave the Isle before she brought the wrath of Conchobar upon their heads.

Grainne compensated the Pictish chieftains for the lost of their fine warriors and the families for the lost of their love ones slain at Emain Macha. With her ships laden with treasure and goods taken from Ulster, she with her Pictish warriors set sail northwest toward the cluster of islands known to many seafarers as the Islands of the Deoradhains.

Her new base of operation was to be the smallest of the eighteen clustered islands, known only as Insi Daimhin, the Island of Deer.

The journey was to take the sea reavers northward into treacherous waters, and through the domain of the giant Muc'mhara; the behemoth pigs of the cold grey sea. On one or more occasion during their journey, Grainne's ships were threatened with capsizing when they were aggressively bumped from below. One ship was lost when a grayish-white Muc'mhara leapt high out of the sea, only to come crashing down upon the men and the deck of the wooden long ship, sinking the sea vessel with its girth and immense weight.

On the second day, a thick sea fog rolled in, swallowing Grainne's fleet of ships in its cold, misty white maw, leaving the seafarers blind for days. Many of the ships, including Grainne's the Morrigan's Revenge, became hopelessly lost in the fog. Her Pictish warriors, excellent sailors in their own right, could not get a proper bearing with the hanging, thick sea fog. Days later, the situation was made far worst when the fog was replaced by fast moving, low-lying, dark clouds, followed by icy-sheets of torrential rain and hailstones, driven by powerful, gale force winds, that easily shredded the Morrigan's black sail.

Day and night, the cripple long ship was toss about by the angry grey sea as a child's toy would be toss about in a wooden tub. Swelling wave after wave would crash upon the ship's deck, washing away any careless sailor. Numerous sacrifices and prayers were given up to the Gaelic and ancient Pictish gods of the sea, only to have them fall on deaf ears.

With no land in sight, their food and water supply gone, and the gods not answering any of their prayers, all seem lost. For many of the sullen, seafaring warriors of the Morrigan's Revenge welcomed death's open arms and quench their thirst by suckling on her bosom of hopelessness.

The torrential rains changed to thick stinging snow and ice that clung and coated the ship with an icy sheet. Those who collapsed of weakness and weariness froze to death in their sleep. Everyday Grainne would find two or three men frozen dead in their sleep as the weather became dangerously colder. She no longer prayed to her gods, instead she cursed and spat on them for leading her to this icy realm of doom.

With the remaining survivors upon her ice-coated ship, Grainne, half-dead with weariness, thirst and hunger had the men build a wind barrier, using the wooden storage boxes, caskets, and the frozen corpses of their fellow warriors to form walls around them. With what remain of the shredded woolen sails, Grainne used to form a tent, to aid in capturing, and holding their warm breaths within.

The sea storm continued for days as the survivors upon the Morrigan's Revenge stayed huddle tightly within their make shift room, trying to keep each other awake and warm with their bodies. One by one in their physical weaken state, exhaustion finally won out.

Body numb from the freezing air, Grainne curses her gods. She curses the day she made her pact with the Danann Queen of the Phantom Realm. How could the Morrigan allow this to happen? Didn't she repay her debt to the Morrigan when she killed the giant warrior, Fergus mac Roich? The last thoughts that went through Grainne's head was her memories of her innocent childhood in the mountains of Connacht, how those times seem so pure and simple to her now. This is not the way a warrior with her talent was to die, she thought to herself, to freeze to death on her ship on the grey unknown sea, surrounded by death.

Grainne and the remaining warriors of the Morrigan's Revenge agreed that they did not want to wait for death, huddling together like cattle waiting for the slaughter. With what strength they could muster together, the warriors propped the corpses of their fellow warriors around the frozen deck with their weapons in hand. At the stern of the long ship, Grainne had her men build a high throne chair out of wine caskets, large wooden chests all covered with expensive bolts of fine silks and colorful wool.

Satisfied with their final life task, Grainne the Red Girl, the terror of the seas took her place on her throne chair as her warriors seated themselves around her, all filling their hands with their favorite weapons. In their weaken state it was not long before the brother of death reached out to them, to guide them to his shadowy realm.

Chapter 7; Grainne meets Thorgil Ragnarrsson, the Bloodaxe
Written by; R. E. Laitres

Off the island coast of Isaland, Thorgil Ragnarrsson with a large party of sea hunters, were enjoying their sport of hunting the aggressive black and white colored wolves of the sea, the Spekkhoggers; Killer whales, when they came upon the cripple long ship, the Morrigan's Revenge slowly emerging out of the thick, northern sea mist.

The crippled, black-stained, long ship with its shredded black sails, decorated with severed heads nailed to the prow and gunwales, made quite a sight to behold. The ship's crew is what startled the whaling party, numerous deceased warriors manned the gunwales with weapons at the ready, and their glazed, blank eyes gazing outwards toward an unseen enemy.
Many of Thorgil's party refused to approach the black, death ship, saying that the black ship was none other than Naglfar, the wrath ship, that belonged to Hel, queen of the Niflheim shadow realm, and the crew manning the ship was her army of unworthy dead.

With threats and curses, Thorgil was able to get his crew to pull alongside the ghastly ship to board the vessel for a closer inspection. On board Thorgil found death everywhere, the warriors were of long limbs with noble features. They wore foreign clothing with much jewelry, adorning their tattooed bodies.

Toward the helm area Thorgil came across the only female member of the ship's crew, sitting high upon a throne chair with a vast treasure scattered about, with a grim guard of warriors seated around the makeshift chair.

She must have been their warrior- queen thought Thorgil to himself, and this is her funeral ship. Upon closer inspection of the warrior woman, Thorgil discovered that she was not dead, but tethering on the brink. With strict orders, Thorgil ordered his men to check for life amongst the lifeless warriors. Only the warrior woman and one male warrior were found to be hanging on to life by a thread.

Thorgil ordered the two survivors to be wrapped in thick furs to warm their frozen bodies; strong drink was then force down their throats in hope of warming their insides. The strongest rowers were given the task of rowing the survivors back to Thorgilheim on Isaland. The remaining party stayed with Thorgil, and went about the business of towing the grisly ship, with its crew of dead and kingly treasure, back to Isaland's mainland.

The man and woman that were rescued by Thorgil was then place into the tender care of skilled healers, who placed them into warm soaking vats of cattle blood, to slowly bring up their body temperatures without damaging their frozen skin. For weeks they were feed on a liquid diet of boiled whale and seal fat mixed with crush island herbs to nourish their starved bodies. Only when the authorization was given by the chief healer, did Thorgil visit the warrior-queen and her warrior in their private chamber.

"I want to thank you my lord, for rescuing me and my friend from death's icy grip, I am Grainne, and my friend over there is Talorg" Grainne seen the large red-haired warrior's pale eyes light up when she addressed him in his language. She was still weak from her ordeal,her voice was no more than a whisper. For weeks the women who attended to her injuries taught Grainne and Talorg the basic words and phrases in their language of Isaland. Grainne was very eager to learn, and even oblige to teach them her Gaelic language.

The large warrior was very tall and heavily muscular, a man of raw physical power. The right side of his face was badly scarred from the forehead to his thick tangle beard. Grainne was not repulsed by his scars; in fact she was very much attracted to this much older man with the piercing pale-blue eyes.

"I am Thorgil Ragnarrsson, the Bloodaxe; you are safe on my island with my Brotherhood of warriors. My healer says that in a few days, you both will be well enough to leave your beds to exercise your muscles." Thorgil spoke slowly so that Grainne and her warrior could follow the newly learned language of his people. "Now rest, we will converse more when you are well enough."

Grainne and Talorg were given all the freedom they needed to accustom themselves to the island and to its people. With the approval from Grainne, Thorgil ordered his men to remove the treasure from the Morrigan's revenge to Thorgil's banquet hall. Grainne's dead crew of Picts was then given a warrior's ceremonial burial, fit for a warrior fallen in battle. That night, a celebratory feast was held in their honor, and in the honor of the only survivors; Grainne and Talorg.

Cooking fires lit the stupendous hall; throwing unearthly, bizarre shadows onto the dark stone walls not drape or covered by elegant tapestries or brightly dyed furs. Clamorous, surly voices and harsh, throaty laughter reverberated throughout the chamber, as members of the Brotherhood gather within the hall for a night of revelry.

Comely serving girls and handsome boys scamper and press their way through the mass of gathering warriors, filling their horns with strong drink and plates with mouth-watering meats, and spiced fruits.

Grainne and Talorg met the grim, stern-eyed commander of the ruthless Ulfhed Nar; the Wolf Skins, Ulf Bjalfasson, called by many as Kveldulf; the Night Wolf. Kveldulf was leanly muscular. His hair and beard was the color of a starless night. His beard had two grey streaks running down by the corners of his mouth. His eyes were the color of a dark pool; Kveldulf had the eyes of a killer, thought Grainne to herself. His mannerism spoke of a true military professional.

Grainne listen intently as the High-Skald Ottarr of the honey-mouth, and his fellow gifted skalds recited Night Wolf's saga with the much hated Norwegian King Haraldr Harfagri's, after the king ordered the murder of Kveldulf's oldest son Thorolf, all because of abhorrent hear-says, and the fact that Kveldulf refuse to swear allegiance, and pay tribute to the Norwegian King. Skalla-Grimr went to Haraldr's great stronghold in the place of his father, after his brother's murder to demand blood compensation. The king had the youngster chased out, followed with threats of death. Kveldulf flew into a furious rage when he was told of Skalla-Grimr's treatment at the hands of King Haraldr. With the aid of his youngest son Skalla-Grimr, and nephew Ketil Thorkelsson, Kveldulf exacted his blood revenge, by killing the king's brother Sigtryggr Snarfari, and all his servants that had a hand in the murder of his son Thorolf Kveldulfsson. Kveldulf and his kin were soon all branded as outlaws by the Norwegian king, and banish from Haraldr's kingdom

Grainne was introduced to the boisterous, towering behemoth called Bodvar Bjornsson, "Swede" to his closes friends. Bodvar was a man-giant; huge of height and muscles, standing a whole head taller than Thorgil, with thick, heavily muscled limbs and a massive, deep chest covered in a mat of blondish-brown hair. Bodvar commanded the daring company of Herjan warriors, the Raiders of the Brotherhood, the Wolves of Odinn.

The skalds recited his early deeds, for at the tender age of twelve, Bodvar's fighting skills and courage already exceeded that of a full grown man. With just his bare hands, at the age of nine, the young Bodvar snapped the neck of a rabid, cave bear, which was terrorizing his homestead. At the age of ten, he defended his mother's honor by killing three rogue warriors. At eleven, the young Bodvar took it upon himself to journey to the northern region known only as the Haltiatunturi of the Jotunns, to revenge his father's death upon the great sorceress Hvit, the Snow White Queen, for it was she who had place a curse upon his father for spurning her sexual advances. By the age of twelve, Bodvar was roaming the wild untamed lands, creating a fearsome reputation for himself.
Bothvar Bjarki, the Battle-Bear, the cousin of Bodvar, is also a large man with straw-colored hair, and eyes the color of an angry sea. The skalds recited Bothvar's deeds in colorful detail, of how at a young age he sought service with Athil, the King of Uppsala. Bothvar made a real impression on both the royal household, and the present commander of Athil's fierce Berserkir troops, who challenged him. The young Bothvar, naked to the waist, slew a dozen of Athil's Berserkirs, one by one, with just his bare hands, snapping necks and breaking backs with his over-size hands.

The Berserkir commander in a rage ordered the rest of the troops to attack the youngster all together. Before King Athil and his Queen Yrsa, could regain control and calm things down, another dozen men laid dead at the feet of Bothvar, including the commander of Athil's Berserkir troop.

The stories of Thorgil's warriors took on mythological proportions as the strong drinks continued to pour freely with no end in sight. By early dawn, Grainne was urged to tell of her adventures. With a smile and a twinkle in her eye, she captivated her audience with her sweet, sign-song voice.
Grainne recap her sad beginnings in Erin, the assault upon her by Raudh, and his men, the sweet revenge of hunting the men, her exile from her birth land by the Ulster King Conchobar mac Nessa, the hair-raising adventures in Albion with Cynglas the Red, and his horde, and the terrifying fight to survive the death trap in the Forest of Blood. Grainne cleverly wove her tale of her escape from King Edwin's horsemen and soldiers, her survival amongst the fierce high land tribes of the Picts, and upon the orders of the Pictish Over-King, Brude mac Maelchon the slayer, travelled to the Shadowy Isle, to the Fortress of Mist.

Grainne continued to captivate the warriors by describing her battles as one of Warrior-Queen Aife's fierce horse-warriors. Lowering her tone so that the warriors had to huddle closer to the table that she was standing on, Grainne finished her story with her adventures upon Erin's Seas, sailing with her Pictish warriors on the Morrigan's revenge, and her daring raids, that took her deep into Ulster's kingdom.

Grainne notice a wild fire burning in the eyes of the large warrior called Thorgil, as he gaze upon her. Warmth and wetness began to spread from between her legs as she boldly starred back at the scarred warrior, making her intentions as plain as day, as she slowly licked her lips, and let her hands innocently caress her bare, upper thigh area.
Page Forty-two

A wolfish-grin split Thorgil's bush-covered face as he leered at the beautiful, young girl. With a gentlemanly gesture, Thorgil gently lifts Grainne from the table top as if she was put a small child, pressing her tightly against his muscular chest. Drunkard cheers and the banging of cups and weapons upon the wooden tables followed Thorgil and Grainne as they exited the crowded banquete hall.

The morning air was cold, and damp, but had a fresh crisp scent to it. Thorgil carried Grainne to his private sleeping quarters, holding her firmly in his arms. Inside the warm quarters, Grainne slowly removed Thorgil's garments, taking the time to gently caress his bare flesh with her finger tips. She lightly planted small wet kisses upon his chest and lower stomach, stopping short of touching his blood-engorged man-meat, which would twitch with a life of its own every time Grainne would touch his bare skin with her lips.

Thorgil in frustration tried to paw at Grainne's womanly goods, only to have his hands batted away. With a devilish grin, Grainne stood up and began to sway her voluptuous body in a sinuous rhythm of erotic movements that was intended to fan the flames of sexual desire. With slow deliberation, Grainne stripped her garments from her body, exposing a taunt, firm, and curvaceous womanly form to a wide-eyed Thorgil.
With a grunt, Thorgil rose from the bed of furs, dragging the now naked Grainne down upon him. Thorgil left wet trails of kisses, from the nape of her slender white neck to the hot, sticky area of her smooth inner thighs. Their bodies melted into one as Thorgil penetrated her womanly fold, thrusting back and forth with an even tempo of desire. Grainne greeted each thrust with her own, squeezing Thorgil's mighty organ with her inner muscles. The musky scent of lovemaking was soon assaulting the senses of Thorgil and Grainne, heightening their lust for each other to an even higher level.

The rhythm of wet slapping flesh upon flesh, quicken in speed and force, as the two lovers started to shudder and their muscles convulse in the throes of sexual spasms, as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through their sweaty bodies. Cries of pleasure escape Grainne's lips as she slowly sank upon Thorgil, gasping to catch her breath. With her head on Thorgil's heaving chest, Grainne was able to hear his fast beating heart, thump like the sound of a blacksmith's hammer upon his anvil. Exhaustion finally overtook the two lovers, as they felll into a relax state of sleep in each other's arms.
As a way of showing her appreciation and undying gratitude to Thorgil and his society of warriors, Grainne presented them with the treasure that was taken off the Morrigan's revenge.
To Thorgil, she presented to him a king's horde of hack silver and gold pieces, and masterful handcrafted jewelry. To the women who tenderly cared for her and Talorg back to health, she graciously gave them numerous bolts of fine Erin cloths, spools of gold threads, and colorful tapestries with complex interwoven designs of gold and silver stitches. Oak caskets of sweet, robust wine and jars of rich-tasting mead were given to the warriors of the Brotherhood, enough to keep them drunk for weeks.

The Godia-Priestess of Freya made the request to Thorgil and Grainne for them to participate in the Lust Seid on Freya's sacred day, to bring favor and reward from the Fair One.
A special chamber was made ready for Thorgil and Grainne. A alter was set with the likeness of Freya upon it, with antlers, candles and containers of mead and wine set about. A bed of furs was place directly in front of the alter, and burning incense was place throughout the chamber, slowly emitting its sweet scent of mountain floral sacred to the goddess Freya.

When all was ready, Thorgil and Grainne presented themselves in front of the attending priestesses, naked except for the Talismans and jewelry that they presented to each other. Inside the chamber, the Godias guided the hands of the two lovers as the rite began with prayers to the beautiful Freya, whose beauty could not be compared amongst the gods or man.
As the two embrace, their bodies becoming one, a fire of intense desire began to well up inside their center of being. The Godias directed the two to kiss and caress their sweaty bodies, driving the passion within them to intensify to a bursting point. With the guidance of the attending priestesses, Thorgil was urge to penetrate Grainne's pink womanly opening, concentrating on the Seid, feeling the pulse and power between their bodies as they both succumb to the exploding rush of sexual ecstasy, as Thorgil's massive man-muscle spasm deep inside Grainne's sweet feminine fold, releasing its torrent of warm nectar.
As Grainne and Thorgil fell against each other, the attending Godias busily began to wash the musky, sweat-covered bodies of the two lovers with scented water, paying close attention to their erogenous areas that was now covered in each other's sticky fluids. Each of them were given a gentle rub down with warm scented oils, and drinking horns filled with robust wine, relaxing them into a relaxing slumber.

It was early evening by the time Thorgil and Grainne emerge from the chamber to the applause of a large crowd. The Godias had announced that the sacred Seid was a success, and that the goddess Freya smiles favorably upon the union of Thorgil and Grainne. The Godias were correct when they said that Freya smiled favorable on Thorgil and Grainne, for their passion and love for each other intensified greatly as the months past, each longing for the other as they have never longed before, an emotional feeling that Thorgil and Grainne never expected they were capable of having.






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