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.Repatriated	By : keithcompany Category: Titles in the Public Domain > Gulliver's Travels Views: 3308 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: This is a work fiction, based on Gullivers Travels by Jonathan Swift.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Finally and at long last the Dollhouse was free of interlopers. Ted stripped off the outer layers of his wedding robes and hung them carefully on the wall.
He fished Phoebe out and carried her to the table. Maids helped crack the formal shell of Ritchie's wedding dress. Phoebe helped Hort strip down to her shift.
With many congratulations, the servants carried off the laundry and bowed at the partition. Ted raised the wall and they were alone.
"Now, traditionally," Ritch said, "there's a three-day wait between the ceremony and the sex."
"You're zucking kidding me."
"Yep." She had time to squeak a protest then she was up in the air and being gently but firmly stripped.
Hort received similar treatment. The three nude women stood as the giant regarded them.
"My, but he looks hungry," Ritch observed.
"I think I can hear his stomach growling," Phoebe said.
"That's not his stomach," Hort said, pointing, "and what it's doing isn't growling."
"Fair's fair, big boy," Phoebe called up to him. "We're naked."
"You're always naked."
"But we're not always all naked."
"Naked is naked. You're all naked or you're not naked."
"I mean all of us are not always naked."
"Sure we are. Under our clothes, we're all naked."
"That's kind of the exact opposite of what the word means."
" If I remove my boxers," Ted growled, "will you shut up about who is and isn't naked?"
"Won't know until you do," Ritch replied, making encouraging gestures.
He complied and stepped to the table for a formal evaluation of his nakedness. They accepted that he was, indeed, without covering.
The three stroked his sides and ran fingers through his hair. Actually they ran entire hands through his hair, feeling muscles bunch and tighten at their touch.
There was a long, slow and up-close examination of the duchy's scepter. The crowning jewel was inspected for faults and none were found.
Ritch stood beside the long twitching length of him and stroked the sides. Her palm went front to back, then she dragged her fingernails lightly over the skin on the way back. She giggled to see him come up slightly onto his toes when she did, as if she had the power to drag him up off of the floor.
Phoebe was kissing him at the base, latching on her lips to lick, suck and nibble at him a bit.
Hort was at the tip, drawing many tiny circles on the helmet with fingers she'd wetted by poking inside of him. Her eyes were raised to meet his.
The giant's expression, her husband's expression warmed her. His look of expectation and satisfaction, his eyes alight with desire.
"I feel like a virgin," she said.
Ritch looked surprised. "We've done this before. I mean, we've gone this far, and with him."
"No," Phoebe said. She rose to walk along the length until she was opposite Ritch. "No, she's right. This is...different. It's like the first touch, the first view... The first time."
"Because we're not stopping this time," Hort realized out loud. "And we all know it. It's..."
"Real," Ted said. Bare to the air and his voice, they felt the waves of pressure roll down their skin to their feet.
His body vibrated with his speech, too, an echo coming up their hands an arms.
"Real," Hort nodded. Phoebe agreed. Ritch tugged the giant up onto the balls of his feet once more.
"Impossible, but real," she agreed.
"Those fingernails," he moaned.
"Theeeeeeeeeeeeese fingernails?" she asked, dragging them along once more.
"Agh-hah," he almost said.
"Not theeeeese, though?" Phoebe copied Ritch on her side of the giant.
"Eeh-gip!"
Hort smiled and gripped the ridge at the top of the helmet, driving all ten of her nails into the soft, rubbery flesh.
He said nothing but his hands slammed down to grab the edge of the table. His gasp made all their ears pop.
"Ladies, I think we have a winner," Ritch said.
Phoebe started to sing the 'Fish Heads' song, stroking the nails to the beat. The others fell to, following her lead and tempo. The wood beneath them creaked as Ted's thighs pressed against the table's edge.
"Not...that...song..." he gasped.
"If I stop," Phoebe negotiated, "you'll tell me what grimyslimy means?"
He promised and she shifted to a sailor's shanty.
They all stroked slowly towards his belly during the verses, pulling back sharply on 'Heeeeeave.'
Fluid dripped from the tip, spattering against Hort's legs and pooling at her feet. She had a moment of doubt, wondering if this was a good idea. "Anyone want to trade places?" she asked. "I-"
Ted had just enough presence of mind to pinch her around the hips and lift her to safety before he exploded.
Bolus after bolus shot out across his table. Ritch started counting aloud, the other two joined her.
They decreased rapidly in quantity but Ritch insisted on counting each surge and drip.
Ted put Hort down as the flow stopped. "Wow," Phoebe said. "That's about three shots each."
"My God," Ted gasped. "That was mind-blowing."
"What did he say?" they asked Hort.
"Like you need a translation?" she asked back. They laughed.
Ted staggered over to his hammock, lowered the rope ladder and curled up.
"Ah!" Hort protested.
"I don't believe this!" Ritch shouted.
"It's our turn!" Hort said. "Come back here and pick us up!"
"You know," Phoebe mused, "by the time we make it that far, he might have recovered."
"And be ready to perform, once more, for his captor audience?" Ritch asked.
"You mean captive audience?" Hort asked.
"No."
"Ah." They all laughed once more. Then they started to walk towards the iron spiral staircase.
Phoebe stepped a little quickly. Ritch sped up to match. Hort sped up enough to pass them both. Phoebe jogged.
In the long run, Phoebe's leg muscles appeared to have benefitted from trying to keep her balance on a moving shoulder. Her sprint down the stairway left the other two in her dust.
She was also less afraid of heights while Hort kept imagining taking a header over the rail. It kept her behind Ritch.
But Phoebe's stamina had been affected from cage living. Her long lead at the base of the stairs was quickly lost as she staggered across the floor.
Ritch felt more confident on the flat floor and took off at a run.
Hort looked farther ahead, saving her energy for the ladder. Her brisk walk ate up the distance steadily. She passed a panting songbird with a smirk. And reached the base of the ladder to find Ritch grasping a rung and gasping her lungs.
"Excuse me, wife, my dear, I have an appointment at the top."
"No...no...not fair," she replied. "I've...only... wheeeeze..."
"Yes, of course," Hort said, patting a heaving shoulder gently. Then she was up the ladder, rising to her destiny. "If he's snoring after all this," she growled, "I'll hire mining equipment and carve out his brain."
"Dibs... pickaxe..."
"Yes, dear."
He was not asleep. The giant lay on his side, head on the pillow aimed at the little trapeze platform where the ladder ended.
She stepped off the rung to stand there, leaning on the rail with a gently cocked hip. He smiled. Then she sagged, exhausted. He reached over to carefully pick her up.
"It's alright," he said. "Just relax. I'll take care of everything."
She lay in his palm as he rose on his elbows. He gently parted her legs and lowered his tongue.
"No," she protested, "I'm all sweaty!"
He didn't pause, sliding his tongue from her ankles to her chin. Then he rose, licking his lip and savoring the taste. "Spicy," he said.
"You don't...mind?" she asked.
"You're my favorite flavor," he assured her.
"What!?!" someone shouted from below.
"Naked!" he explained. "Naked's my favorite flavor!"
"Ah. Then carry on," Ritch allowed.
He turned back to his wife and smiled. Fingers curled under her. She became very much aware of the power he had.
But instead of feeling safe and secure, knowing he'd protect her, she found herself excited. She was entirely at his disposal, for any whim he might entertain.
And she knew he was capable of taking care of everything. Of taking care of her.
She purred, stretching her back against the flowing muscles beneath her. Fingertips came to rest on her breasts, slowly moving them in circles on her chest.
He licked her, touching the tip of his tongue here and there, dabbing spit on chest, armpit, ribs, belly...and finally he went lower and... Skipped down to her knees.
"Sthmuct," she muttered, whatever that meant. Then his fingers came back, smearing the fluid over her skin, making her slick and warm. Warm as his breath flowing over her.
Then it started to evaporate. She cooled, starting with extremities.
The chilled skin reacted to his hot breath and the heat of his fingertips. She became strongly aware of every single piece. Her attention was drawn to her skin, her very ego tugged out into her skin, the line between herself and the world, and right now the world was Ted.
The world was his touch, his breath, and the narrow focus of where he was drawing a line between her breasts. Across her belly. To her...yes, finally, he stroked across her pussy.
She grabbed at his fingernail and squeezed with her legs. All she could do to hold him in place where she needed him to be. And his strokes hardly slowed.
The power, the strength and might shoved her still-sweaty back across his palm, back and forth. And somewhere in the distance some woman was panting, moaning, making little yips of pleasure and need.
That she was the woman seemed obvious once she realized it, but it took a while.
She let go with her legs, dropping them to put her soles against the heel of his hand. She pushed down, lifting herself, grinding against him, showing the man where he needed to touch her.
He obeyed, pressure sending waves through her entire body. She screamed, twisting her head back and forth. His thumb rose to press gently on her forehead, pinning her in place.
She gasped, whined and came.
The others joined her in his grip as she returned to the mere physical world. They kissed her cheeks and congratulated her. Her pleasure was honored and they were not jealous.
They didn't think of it as sharing a man, they thought all of them were a family. And they showed her her needs were as important to them as theirs were.
She kissed them back, taking care to find their lips.
Over them the giant made pleased grunts at the sight. She spread her arms, inviting him. He lowered his face once more, kissing everyone.
They all purred, curled in his cupped hands, wrapped in each other's arms.
They cuddled through her afterglow until she decided it was another's turn.
Phoebe insisted that wives went before pets and helped Hort crawl over Ritch, sliding the younger woman to the center. Then they looked up expectantly.
"What, again?" he asked. Ritch whined and Phoebe glared. He merely smiled back. But when Hort cleared her throat, he ducked his head obediently and set to.
--------
Some time after the wedding, Ted was walking his properties and enjoying the sunny day. Phoebe was on his shoulder, practicing the strange dirge Ted was teaching her.
He noticed a bright yellow banner wrapped around the trunk of a tree, a sign that one of his tenants wanted it removed.
He clicked his tongue. His shoulder ornament slid down into his pocket without interrupting her rendition of 'Wai Down We Get Runk and Skwew.' She rode out his bending and tugging there.
Just as he was shaking the dirt off the roots, a courier rode up. "Milord! The King requests your assistance!"
"Very well, where is the King?"
"Nay, your Grace. The King needs you to follow His Majesty's Heavy Cruiser The Ascreedo to the Northern Islands."
"Why?"
The courier took a moment to settle his steed. The horse was not as familiar with giants as most of the stock at Cashpierent Mountains. It flinched with every breath.
"Sir, there's rumor of another giant monster out there."
"Oh."
"There goes the franchise," Phoebe trilled from his pocket.
----------
The smoke drew his attention. Well, the lookout on the Ascreedo drew everyone's attention to it. They signaled The Raft.
"They have something!" Ted looked down at the Naval rating manning the coffee mug. He followed the man's pointing arm, then turned to join up with the cruiser.
"My men see smoke on that island," Captain Kisstokept shouted through his bullhorn. "Our charts say it is not inhabited."
"And it's a big fire," Hort said from his shoulder. She passed the spyglass to Phoebe for a look.
Everyone at the Dollhouse was pretty certain the 'monster' was another Englishman, but Ted was still trying to minimize risk.
Phoebe was there because she actually spoke Islander languages, while Ritch was merely good a sign.
Hortesnaed had been empowered to represent the King if assurances or treaties or promises were required. Ritchasska was back at home, running the family businesses. And indulging a fine snit, if any of the others knew her at all.
"Okay," Ted said. "I'll check it out. All Lilliputians to the Ascreedo."
"The hell!"
"If he's not a nice person, he might want to steal my pretty raft," Ted pointed out. "I'd rather that he only got rubberized canvas and a few trinkets than kidnapping.
"I'll wade ashore, with my raft tied up to the fantail. If a giant swims out to take the craft, Captain, cut it free and sail out of his reach."
"Logical," Phoebe protested. "I hate logical. What if there are Islanders? You'll need me to translate!"
"I can wade out to the cruiser faster than they can land a landing party," he countered. "Get!"
They agreed with his logic, however unwillingly, and carried their own snits over to the Lilliputian vessel.
A hawser was passed and made fast to the raft. Ted blew them a kiss goodbye and rolled over the side into the water. He bounced back up to grab two bags he'd prepared and went to the shore.
Something in the surf caught his eye just before he reached the beach. He picked up a diver's mask. Rather an expensive one if he was any judge. Tiny arrows stuck out of the rubber. He waded out to the side of the ship and held up his find. Sailors rigged ropes around it and lifted it to the deck.
"Phoebe, can you identify the arrows? Are they likely to be poisoned?" He bounced on his toes to keep his face mostly out of the water.
"Kissotphandans!" Phoebe shouted back. "No barbs, no poison. But they carry dozens and can shoot them so fast it's like lightning."
"Okay," he nodded. He kicked off to swim back to the island. Whoever was here, he'd run afoul of some nasty natives at some point.
Ted prepared for wounded, uncomfortable, disoriented and paranoid. He slowly circled the tiny island's beach to get closer to the fire.
He wanted to stay visible, not to surprise anyone who might be armed. Whoever owned the mask might have a speargun.
When he judged to be as close to the smoke as possible, he called out in a conversational tone. "Doctor Livingstone, I presume?"
A head popped up above the trees. A giant head, to his Lilliputian-trained eyes. It sported a neoprene hood, wide eyes and lots of spots all over the face.
"What? Who? Who are you? Where did you come from? Have you seen the lizards?"
"Lizards?" he asked.
"Hang on!" The head ducked down. Ted considered what he'd seen. It was a small face, almost feminine. Or... Maybe it was a woman?
Trees rustled. Some fell. A figure fought its way through the foliage. Literally.
A bit shorter than Ted, wearing a wetsuit, the man or woman bashed at trees with another tree. Knocking them down and over and gasping. Ted stepped back, waves washing against his shoes.
Then she was clear, and standing on the beach. It was a female figure. Her feet and hands were bare and had red spots like the face.
Arrow holes, he guessed. She'd had some problems with the natives.
"Lizards?" he repeated.
"Little tan lizard things," she said. "Tiny things. Fast and fierce. And they shoot little darts." She rubbed the back of one hand with the other. "Sharp little buggers. I disturbed a nest and barely made it out alive."
"Uh... Those little lizards are people," Ted said.
She shook her head. Ted got an impression that she was trying for the sad shake of an authority faced with overwhelming ignorance. Like when he argued with his professors based on 'something I saw on TV.'
But she was too agitated, too anxious. The shaking was jerky, fanatical. "No, no, no, I’m a biologist. People can't even BE that small. They're maybe a form of monkey, but I'm leaning towards lizards. I don't know of any primates that shoot things out of their arms."
"Besides Spiderman," he said because he couldn't help himself.
"You mean the movie Spiderman that shoots webs from his wrists?" She did the fanatical head shake once more. "If that was real, he'd be shooting them from his ass. The spinnerets of the spider are located-"
"Yeah, yeah," he interrupted. He held up the two bags. "I have a first aid kit, water and food. Would you like any of it?"
She froze. He thought she was scared, but finally realized she'd just calmed down. The anxiety and confusion of who knew how many days evaporated and she stopped twitching.
She was just standing normally. For the moment that looked like catatonia.
"Please?" she asked.
"Okay." He handed her one bag. A few of his least favorite flavors of energy bars were left in it and he'd filled the canteen a few islands away.
She sat down on the beach and started eating. He opened the first aid kit and knelt by her feet. As he started to apply an ointment to her wounds he looked up at her.
"Isn't it hot in that wetsuit?" he asked. "At least you could lose the hood."
She shook her head emphatically. "It's the only armor I've got. The little lizard darts, they go right through my swimsuit. In fact, you should be worried about those clothes!
"Let's go back to my camp. I've built up a wall- Why are you shaking your head?"
"Look, um...Um?"
"Arlene."
"Hi, Arlene, I'm Ted. Look, I can make you perfectly safe from the... the lizards. But you have to trust me."
She pulled her feet away from him slightly. "I don't have good experiences with men that just say they want me to trust them," she said. Her twitching started to ramp up again.
"Okay." He shrugged and backed away a little bit. She put a hand on her makeshift club. "I just need to signal my friends. To help fight the lizards. I don't need you to do anything but not freak out, okay?"
"Why?"
"My friends are a little weird." He readied the flare gun. "Just...don't overreact, okay?" He shot the flare into the sky. Her eyes tracked it, then snapped back down to watch him.
He just stood on the sand.
After a few minutes he smiled. She couldn't see what had changed. Then the cruiser rounded the trees and came into her view. She counted the masts, watched the sails flap and saw men lowering a rowboat over the side.
"They're Age of Sail enthusiasts?" she asked. "That's not so-"
Then she saw the raft in tow. And guessed just how far away that ship was. And how big that rowboat was, the long one with twenty rowing positions and room for several more men.
She froze, this time real paralysis. Ted used a very soft tone to break it to her. "Welcome to Lilliput, Arlene."
Arlene said, "Eep."
And fainted.
---------
Arlene came to in darkness. She was on the beach where she'd fallen, but arranged comfortably. A pillow of some sort was under her head.
She sat up and looked around. Ted had made a camp around her as she slept. There was a tent, a fire burning the tall bushes... Okay, she had to admit to herself, they were tiny trees.
She smelled food of some sort. Small game turned on a spit over the fire. She licked her lips.
A sound drew her attention. Ted's back was turned. A small figure next to his hip coughed or spat or something. He lifted the spit off the fire and turned to smile at her.
"You're awake," he said.
"Yeah. I, uh, guess I fainted?"
He shrugged. "And I guess you haven't been sleeping well?" She nodded. He nodded and stepped over to where she sat. "Cow?"
The figures on the stick did look kind of cowy. Tiny, tiny, rat sized cows... She leaned away from them.
Ted didn’t take offense, he just stuck the stick in the sand and sat back. She curled her legs around to a more comfortable position. A glance down showed her that she'd been laying on a curled up sleeping bag.
"So. Lilliput?" she asked.
"Yep. Just like the books."
"I never read the stories," she admitted.
"It's rough going," he nodded. "I had the chance to read that or Moby Dick." The creature at his hip had followed him over. It coughed again. "Oh. Sorry. Okay, quick introductions.
"First, the Navy landed and searched the island. No natives threaten. They also sailed around it and saw no canoes. So they came back and set up a perimeter around you."
She looked around. Tiny fires dotted the beach. Shadowy, tiny figures were around them. Now that she looked, she could see men in uniforms, some in rougher clothes. Some waved.
In a bit of a daze, she waved back.
"When they did that, I took the opportunity to find your camp and brought your stuff back."
"Wasn't much, was there?" she snorted.
"No, but it's all in the tent, whenever you want to change."
"Change?"
"You can get out of the diving suit," he explained. A hand waved towards the tent. "And in privacy."
"Thanks," she said.
"And finally, allow me to introduce two important people in my life." He picked up the creature from the sand and lifted something out of his pocket.
"This," he said, "is my wife, Lady Hortesnaed, Duchess of Cashpierent Valley." The figure waved. Arlene looked closer.
It was generally feminine in shape, wearing some sort of wrap like a sari. It... she smiled and waved.
"You, uh, think of her as your wife?" she asked Ted. She knew, then, that there were no more human beings in the area. And how long had the man been living here?
"It was an official wedding," Hortesnaed said. "The King officiated and it was well-attended. We can show you the wedding portrait when we get home."
Arlene froze once more, staring.
"I'm sorry, Arlene." Hortesnaed shook her head. "I meant to start with a welcome. I extend to you my personal welcome, our household's welcome, and the King and Queen bid you feel safe and comfortable in their kingdom. Anything I can do to help you, you have merely to command. I'll get my husband on it right away."
Arlene went on staring.
Ted lifted his other hand. "And this is my pet, Phoebe. She doesn't speak English, but I have taught her some songs."
Another tiny woman in a tropical-looking wrap, she apparently knew the word 'song.' "Livin on spunche cake," she trilled. Ted said something. Arlene would bet a great deal it was something like 'not now.'
"Did... Did it...?" She shook her head. "Sorry, did she just sing Jimmy Buffet?"
"Yes," he said.
"Wow...."
She knew the song. The crew of the research vessel sang it regularly, bonding over the meals that were available. The menu was seriously filtered by the captain's vegetarian philosophies.
And damn, she could use a cheeseburger right now. That's when her nose reminded her of the roasted...cows. They looked beefy. They smelled beefy. "Um..."
"Help yourself," he said. "They're from the ship's stores." She was already stripping meat off the first roast.
He sat and watched her eat, women in his pocket. She didn't stop until she was sucking flesh off the last bone of the last one.
"God, I needed that," she said. He smiled.
"I wish I could have offered some A1."
"No, no, no, this was great." She glanced up to see the outline of the sailing ship at anchor. Dawn was coming. "Oh. I slept the night away?"
"Pretty much," he agreed.
"And you watched over me?"
"We did," he said, nodding towards his wife.
"Thank you for that, Ted, and thank you, Duchess Horstain... Hortaesen..."
"The idiot calls me Hortense," the woman said. "I'd love for you to feel free to do the same."
"Hortense. And Phoebe." Both women smiled at their names. Arlene stood and stretched. "I think I will change."
Inside the tent were her things. The swimsuit she'd had drying on the rocks, the swim fins, the floatation vest... Even the face mask. She looked at that and thought of the first island. She realized how monstrous she must have looked to the tiny people there, rising up out of the sea like some sort of hump-backed Cyclops.
"Whoops," she muttered. Well, maybe she'd forgive them, once the pinholes in her skin healed.
Or maybe they'd mess with the air tanks she'd lost on their shore in her mad escape. With luck, they'd blow their murderous selves over the shore and out to sea....
She shook her head and pulled off the diving suit. A hand might have helped, but the quarters were cramped and she wasn't going to ask Ted to undress a woman in front of his wife... His wife and pet.
That was still a weird relationship.
When she was changed, she stepped out and stretched once more. Ted glanced over her body. She was used to that. She'd become bored about how little control the human male had around skin, cleavage or ass.
But at least Ted started and ended on her face. That was worth points. It was probably restraint based on the presence of his wife.... And pet? But it was still restraint.
Then she noticed the silence. There'd been something of a murmur from the... Say it, part of her mind said sternly. 'Lilliputians.' The little people had been talking while she and Ted were.
Now there was nothing. Ranks and rows of little men stared at her. Up and up at her. Like they had never seen this much skin before.
"Oh, gods," she moaned. "I'm underdressed?"
"No, no," Ted assured her. "It's not the current fashion, but that's not a problem. Women of certain social standing bare rouged breasts in public."
There was some whispering from the wife. The men started to talk to one another. Ted listened around and laughed.
"It's the boobs," Arlene concluded. "Bigger than a parachute."
"No," Ted told her. He bit a cheek. "Nope. No sailor of His Majesty's Navy would comment on the sexual attributes of a woman, not where the Duchess or an officer could hear them."
"Then what? What's got them so chatty?" She glanced back and forth. Then glared at the man who could explain.
"Okay, first of all, you have to understand. As near as I can tell, all the little people are of one homogenous species."
"They're all white?"
He made the semi-sorta hand wave. "Some of their features are hard to nail down, but essentially fair skin, some variation in the hair."
"And...?" she said dangerously.
"Well, you're black. Your swimsuit is black. Your diving suit is black..."
"They think I'm black because the material rubbed off on me." She said it flatly.
He burst out laughing, unable to control it any more. "It's not that funny," she said.
"Oh, no, no, it's not that. They think the suit is black because you rubbed off onto it!"
Hortense apologized for her idiot as he tried to stop giggling. After a moment, a belly laugh burst from Arlene's mouth.
--------
The ship's surgeon inspected Arlene's injuries. He was satisfied with those of her face and hand, but found signs of infection on some of those affecting her feet.
He applied a salve and prescribed covering to protect from sand, seawater and salt. Ted gave her his shoes, and the Captain offered sails to wrap her feet so they'd fit.
She was touched by the generosity, but she'd had a hard time suffering the man's inspection. Ted held her hand as she lay quiet and still, his wives on his shoulder giving her sympathetic looks.
Phoebe and Hort volunteered to ride back on the Ascreedo, leaving the raft to the two giants. Arlene was touched by the gesture, enough to offer a hand for a quick shake.
They took her by the fingertip with both hands and gave it a squeeze.
Arlene's face reminded Ted of an old girlfriend when they'd talked her into touching another friend's pet snake.
But at least she didn't wipe her hand on anything afterwards.
She told her tale first, sitting across from Ted as he rowed, following the cruiser towards Lilliput.
She was a marine biologist. Her ship was studying a pod of right whales. She'd been on a dive, trying to retrieve a faulty radio collar around one fluke.
Then the whales seemed to get agitated. "I don't think we were the cause. They were getting to know us, I think."
"What happened?"
"Their song got higher, faster. They made jerky movements. Then they sounded."
"Sounded?"
"Dove hard and deep. One minute there were all these gentle giants all around us, then we were alone. Then I felt a powerful current..." She noticed his smile as he pulled on the oars. "What?"
"Gentle giant. In context, that's quite amusing."
She smiled back. They passed a moment in silence. A few yards away, Hort lowered her spyglass. Phoebe lowered her listening horn. "Troooooooouble," Phoebe said.
"Nonsense," Hort said. "If he so much as touches her, I'll tell Ritch."
"She'll kill him!"
"She'll kill one of them. That'll solve the problem." She turned to look the pet right in the eye. "He may leave us, but he will never, ever embarrass us."
-------
Miles farther, over the horizon and across the island of Lilliput, the potential assassin opened yet another book of accounts and started taking notes.
A maid brought her a pot of tea, which she ignored, and stoked up the fire, which she berated.
"What in the name of absent gods are you doing? Stoking up a fire in a room this hot?! Get out! Stop it! You're trying to melt me! Or set my records on fire. OUT!"
"Yes, mistress," the woman said, calmly banking the embers and closing the screen. She curtsied and stepped to the door.
Ritch put both hands on her eyes. "I’m sorry, Aguellsta. I don't know why I'm so testy."
"Oh, really?" the maid replied, pausing at the door. Ritch dropped her hands to stare. None of the staff ever came this close to talking back to her. That sarcastic tone... It was as if the Revolution had finally come.
But considering the circumstances... "That obvious?" she asked.
"Mistress, the entire staff feels the absence of the Master and the Mistress. Maybe not as much as you do, but we do feel your pain." She stepped back to the desk and took one hand in both of hers.
"If we could ease it, we would. Shouldering the burden of your very rare foul moods is the least we can do."
"I'm sorry I was such a dragon," Ritch said. Aggy laughed.
"Mistress, I'm the one that dumped a bucketful of embers into Master's fly. Until you can literally make the walls shake when you bellow... Well, you're not a dragon."
Ritch laughed for the first time in days.
The butler entered the doorway. He smiled to see a smile on Mistress' face. Then he sobered and stood straight.
"Announcing Master Greiestandall."
"Greiestandall?" Ritch exclaimed. "What's he doing here?" The butler looked confused for a second. By her reaction, he wasn't sure if he should have announced the visitor before asking her opinion of ushering him up. "Oh, go ahead and let him in."
Standing orders were that she would welcome company if she was in the business office. Business couldn't always wait and she welcomed distractions.
Her former betrothed strode in, wearing a big smile.
----------
Arlene finished her short, confusing tale. Ted started to relate his adventures, then stopped. "Trade places with me."
"Sure." She'd rankled under doctor's orders not to exert herself after her ordeal. It was hard for her to accept an authority she could eat in two bites.
But Hortense had been adamant, and that made Ted as much of an asshole. So she sat in the stern and tried not to fume too much.
Now she quickly moved to the front bench. But Ted moved the oars to the back. She sat and watched his shoulders for a while.
"What was that for?" she asked.
"Shhhh," he said. "Listen." He continued at his steady pace. She lay back against the brow, closed her eyes and listened. Listen to what? Oars. Water plashing against the inflated sides, drumming slightly.
Little waves. Little teeny tiny waves. It was impossible, the way even the weather, wind, waves seemed to be shrunken down near the Lilliputians.
Sails flapped in the wind as the Ah-Seed turned to a new heading. Banners snapped to show who was on board.
Splashes. Forward. Ahead of them. Little quick snaps of water parting like... Like... Oh, could it be?
She rolled over and knelt by the edge, pulling herself over the bow of the raft.
Dolphins.
Little shiny Lilliputian dolphins swam and played before the raft. They were a bit shorter than her forearm. She could probably grab one and hold it. She wouldn't, but to think that she could...
She did reach slowly down. At first they shied away from her, her shadow. She held her hand in place, fingernail trailing through the water.
Some ignored her, some of the water mammals changed to dance in the water around her own, personal wake.
Phoebe lowered her horn. Everyone on board could hear the giant woman's laughter. It probably thundered up close, but it practically tinkled from here.
"Hard to hate someone that happy about not-whales," she told her owner's wife.
"Oh, I'd never be so crass as to hate her," Hort said. "If she becomes a threat, I'll deal with it. But she's still our guest."
"Nobles," Phoebe said. In other lands, people might use the same tone to dismiss men, women, nerds, weaponeers, test pilots or performance artists. Hortesnaed nobly ignored her.
--------
Master Greie's steps faltered as he left the doorway. It was because of another reason Ritch met people here.
The business office was a corner of the floor of the dining hall. Sectioned walls could be placed to screen the interior from the exterior.
When she could, though, Ritch had the screening removed, and the wall between the Dollhouse and the giant's room lowered. That allowed her to gaze at her husband's home.
The detailed rug and fine furniture stopped at a rather straight and stark horizon. Beyond that, the great table was too low to be seen. The viewer's gaze was drawn to the distant bridge-sized hammock. Clothes and other personal articles hung on the wall or from the rafters.
And a birdcage with a four-poster bed hung there, too.
Greie was not the first to stagger at the first time they saw what she looked at. His jaw gaped, giving her a tactical advantage.
The first moment always set them off balance. She could inventory her memory of the individual or any reports she'd gathered or purchased.
A final, unseen glance at her notes or the numbers for the business venture, the dollars available and so on.
She was even more formidable when they looked back at her, they were having to retrace their mental steps to whatever they'd been thinking when they entered.
Except this time.
Greie stared across the Dollhouse while Ritch stared across the room.
Her 'review' was mostly a jumble of images, comments and slammed doors.
Greie's father, a Baron from Creshtando, had offered the Baronette's daughter a chance at social advancement through a strategic marriage.
They'd been betrothed for five happy years, then formally introduced. They were happy enough then, too. He was well formed, she had lost all her baby teeth. He colored inside the lines and she didn't make fun of his green sky or blue grasses.
Towards the end of their formal schooling, plans started to accelerate.
But Greie had been ambitious. He didn't want to be his wife's stepping ladder up one rung on the social scale. He wanted a wife to lift him to dizzying heights.
Ritch had announced that her academic prowess had drawn the attention of a Viscountess, one working for the King's social ministry. She'd be up for promotion to secretary inside three years, with a chance at being created an Esquire.
Greie had sneered at that. Heir not to a barony, but a mere baronette's heir, getting excited at something so cheap as an Esquire.
His father had Esquires cleaning his office.
"But it would be mine," Ritch had said. "Earned on my own efforts." It seemed important to her. More than just waiting for someone to die and assume the title.
"You want an Esquire? Fine, I'll make you an Esquire. In fact, there, there you are. You're Esquire. I dub the Esquire Little Girl Of Little Horizons. Apply at the office, I'll sign it."
"I believe I would rather live among cannibals," she had replied. It struck her, now, that she'd been randomly prophetic. She'd have to find her diary, to see if she'd foreseen a handsome prince the size of a castle...
"Well. Rather..humble," Greie was saying.
"Humba whabba?" she replied.
"Humble." He waved at the giant room. "Bare rafters. No decorations. Human slave."
"Pet. And she had her sentence commuted from a beheading," she corrected. And thank absent gods for that, she thought silently to herself.
"Same thing," he said. He turned fully to his hostess. "So. Ritchasska. I've been thinking about you a lot lately."
"I imagine so," she said slowly. She sat, offering him a seat. It had been a close thing. The entire time they'd known each other, he outranked her, socially.
He sat before she did except on his express invitation. Greie had almost never invited. He and his father were of the opinion it was best to indulge in one's perquisites. They were there for a reason.
One ignored them only at risk of the entire social structure and the foundation of the realm.
So she'd nearly followed habit.
But as the Duchess of Cashpierent Lake, he was socially beneath her. Quite a ways beneath her.
His sour expression showed he was very aware of that as he took the seat she offered.
"What do you want, Greiestandall?"
"Ritchasska, can't this be a social call?"
"No," she said simply.
"Well," he said. "Can it be social, too? Social AND business?"
"What do you want?" she repeated.
"I just wondered if you knew what sort of position you'd gotten yourself into."
"A Duchess with a Duchy. Immediate beneficiary of two more Duchies. Married. To a Duke," she rattled off.
"But you need friends."
"Duchess," she repeated slowly, as to one with difficulty in academic pursuits. "I can buy friends the way you used to buy hookers."
"I explained the manly needs," he said reprovingly.
"I've met a man, Greiestandall. Far more of a man than you will ever be." GOD that felt satisfying to say. "And his needs are quite happily fulfilled inside the household."
"Oh, come on!" he protested smugly. "What can he really give you?"
She raised her hands over her desk, apart, palms towards each other, stretching as in a fishing report. One eyebrow rose, as if challenging him to gather her intended meaning.
"Is that all?" he laughed. "From his stature, I'd have expected much-"
"Across," she said. He flinched. She looked at him. There had been one evening, in their teens, when they'd met inadvertently. They'd been without chaperones and had explored each other briefly in a quiet watch tower.
"If I remember correctly..." She measured a space between her thumb and forefinger. "You were not too small yourself."
"I should thank you to-"
Her fingers snapped wider apart, separated as far as possible. "You'd fit into his peehole." She giggled. She knew she was sacrificing whatever he'd come to offer. But even if she knew, absolutely knew it was something she needed, she probably couldn't have done anything different.
"Listen, woman!" he shouted. "The time will come when you need an ally, or you'll need to face up to your own shortcomings! I was going to offer to be that ally-"
"Shortcomings!" she squealed. "No, no worry about that here. HAH! We stepped off his range, once. Short coming?! It is to laugh." So she did.
"Fine," he shouted. "Play with your new toy! Be a laughingstock! Your lover's oh-so-brilliant reputation in Blefuscu is a sham! For all that he's claiming revitalization of the industry, he's only working anything at sixty percent of capacity."
"That's so..." she tried to reply, but she was laughing too much at 'new toy.' Hell, she had a new playground. Lucky for them all.
Her former fiancé sneered down at her as she slid lower in her chair, then stormed out of the room. There was a yelp as he bounced off the attending butler on the landing, then rattled down the first flight of stairs.
The butler was a little rumpled but he appeared quickly. Too quickly to have fallen with Greie, anyway.
"Will there be anything else, Mistress?" he asked. The smile on his face told her he'd been listening.
Damned well better have been, she thought. How could the staff protect the household from threats if they weren't aware of any?
Greie and any men in his livery would receive special attention if they were anywhere close in the days ahead.
"No," Ritch said and dismissed him. She turned to the bank of drawers and unerringly opened the one she wanted. The one with the latest reports of the financial standings of Greie's father, Lord Baron.
A few hours later, she'd collected a few other scattered reports on her desktop. Arranged properly, they told quite a story. "Sneaky bastards," she muttered.
Then she thought of her husband and his strange, strange approach to business dealings.
In light of the story told on her desk, "Oh, my. What a positively clever bastard."
--------
They spent one night in tow behind the cruiser. Arlene spent the next day watching the coast of Blefuscu as they passed. People crowded the shore and waved huge colored cloths.
"It's like being the parade Marshal," she said, waving back. At one point, a hundred people on a pier managed to chant 'Welcome Larleen!' in synch, the sound carrying out to the raft.
Ted immediately changed course to row closer to the crowd. They stared, some edging down the way towards safety.
He pulled to a gentle stop, minimizing the waves. Arlene leaned out and thanked them for the welcome.
Fourteen fainted. Ted made a point of noting the location so she could come back if she wanted to. Then they were off again.
"You didn't correct their pronunciation," he said.
"It was close enough," she said, staring back and still waving.
They spent one night on the shore. Arlene got the tent and sleeping bag, Ted slept on the beach in the raft. His women joined him.
Arlene lay with her head near the door. He spoke at length with the women, but in Fuscan. From the tone, it sounded at first like a fight. Then a more rational discussion.
Finally it was the warm, squooshy tones of intimacy. They couldn't go too far, could they? Not in the open, with sailors forming a perimeter and crowds dotting the land-bridge between their camping site and the mainland?
Hmm. Well, next time she'd give them the tent.
She was pretty sure Hortense wouldn't let them share the tent...
------
The next day, Arlene insisted that Phoebe and Hortense join them. They were apparently touched by the gesture, too.
She alternated speaking of courtly fashions with Hortense, and expressing dismay at the number of layers she'd be wearing; and teaching some of her favorite lyrics to Phoebe.
When Hort announced that the end was in sight, she asked Ted to pull close to the cruiser so she could thank the captain and his crew for their attention, protection and support.
They fired their cannons in salute, then paced them all the way to the beach.
They finally made landing and dragged the raft up the beach. The expected crowds ranged the hedged area around them.
Ted knelt to scoop up one woman from inside the fence. He kissed and gently hugged Ritchie, then introduced his other wife to Arlene.
The tiny woman rattled something off in Fuscan. Ted laughed. "She brought you something," he said.
There was movement. A pile of fabric she'd thought was a tent turned out to be folded clothing on the shoulders of fifty bearers.
"My first suit in Lilliput," Ted said. He offered her a pair of parachute pants and a peasant blouse.
"Nice," she said.
"And she's had a pair of slippers made so you don't have to walk in my shoes."
"I love her," Arlene said with a nod towards Ritchie. "I..." She knelt to where Hort and Phoebe stood on the side of the raft. "I would like to apologize for treating you both like..."
"Vermin?" Hort asked. Arlene flinched but the snark was deserved.
"Yes," she said. "I need to thank you for your forbearance, and putting up with my little snits." Ted put his wife down by his wife as Arlene steeled herself, then offered a finger to each woman for a shake.
Hort was the first to take the digit in a tight embrace. "It's okay. You're quite welcome here."
Ritch said something. Hort shook her head.
"What?" Arlene asked. All four women glanced over to where Ted sat. He was kneeling by the fence and playing with the paparazzi.
She leaned down to the Lilliputians. Hort said softly, "My wife says you're welcome to the country and welcome in our home, but Ted is offlimits."
Arlene smiled. "I'm a lesbian."
"I don't care where you're from! Or if Ted's from Lesba, too. Hand's off the hubby!"
Arlene's smile never faltered. "Deal," she said.
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