So suggestion wouldn’t work. Thael simply needed a firmer hand. Cicero giggled to himself, amused that he hadn’t realized it before.
“What are you laughing at, Cicero?”
“You.”
“Me?” Thael smiled one of his innocent, carefree smiles. “What did I do?”
“Oh, never you mind, Listener...never you mind. Cicero just had one of his foolish notions. That’s all.”
---
The spate of drizzle and sleet finally broke, and with the reappearance of the sun came that glorious reprise of summer that sometimes occurred in mid-autumn, before winter’s teeth clamped down upon them for good. The air was cool, but the sun blazed down upon their backs as they rode, and by midday they had packed away their cloaks. The sense of relief produced by this merciful change in the weather made them both act giddy and childish. Thael rode close to Cicero’s side just long enough for Cicero to forget he was there, then swiped his hat off his head and took off at a gallop. Cicero shouted with feigned rage and pursued him as well as he and his horse could manage, but Thael was a skillful rider, weaving and zigzagging unpredictably across the plain. Eventually he darted into the forest. Cicero was able to keep track of him for a while, but eventually he disappeared into the wood, as he was born to do. Cicero came to a clearing, slowed his horse to a stop, and cocked his head, straining to hear any sign of the elf.
“All right, Listener! You win! Come out, and bring poor Cicero’s hat back!”
He was answered only by the hammering of a woodpecker somewhere close by.
“Listener!” Cicero frowned. “Where are you? Ooh, when Cicero catches you...”
“He’ll do WHAT, exactly?” said a voice directly behind him. Cicero jumped, then turned around to see Thael smirking at him.
“Ooh! You cruel, mischievous creature! Tricking poor Cicero!” he sniffed. “Give it back!” Thael laughed and flung his hat at him. He caught it. “That’s better.” He arranged it over his red hair, with an admonishing look at Thael.
“What a beautiful day!” Thael smiled up into the treetops and sighed.
“Yes...isn’t it?” Cicero looked around him. Not a soul was in sight, a cool, clear stream meandered ahead of them, and the trees towered around them like benign sentries. The smells of pine needles and earth and fragrant herbs filled the air. Yes...this place would do. “Listener, perhaps we should linger here for a while. We are not in any hurry to return to the Sanctuary, are we?”
“No, I suppose not. It would be a shame not to enjoy this lovely little wood. And the horses will need a rest.” Thael nimbly dismounted and led his horse to the stream. Cicero did the same. After they had tethered the horses, Cicero leaned against a tree and watched Thael as he wandered silently through the clearing, his face registering delight and reverence at every new occurrence – the passing of a sparrow, the cry of a hawk, the whisper of wind through the pine needles. By Sithis, he was the purest and most innocent cannibalistic assassin Cicero had ever seen. He chuckled under his breath at the thought, then licked his lips and took a drink from his water skin.
“Cicero! Come over here and look at this snail I found!”
Oh, with pleasure, my Listener. He pulled off his gloves and stuffed them in his pockets, then glided to the Listener’s side. As Thael nattered on about the markings on the snail’s shell, Cicero rested a hand on his lower back. As usual, he didn’t seem to notice or care. Then Cicero began rubbing his back, his open hand making lazy circles on Thael’s wool shirt, drifting closer and closer with each circle towards his delicious round buttocks...
If At First You Don't Succeed... 4/?
“What are you laughing at, Cicero?”
“You.”
“Me?” Thael smiled one of his innocent, carefree smiles. “What did I do?”
“Oh, never you mind, Listener...never you mind. Cicero just had one of his foolish notions. That’s all.”
---
The spate of drizzle and sleet finally broke, and with the reappearance of the sun came that glorious reprise of summer that sometimes occurred in mid-autumn, before winter’s teeth clamped down upon them for good. The air was cool, but the sun blazed down upon their backs as they rode, and by midday they had packed away their cloaks. The sense of relief produced by this merciful change in the weather made them both act giddy and childish. Thael rode close to Cicero’s side just long enough for Cicero to forget he was there, then swiped his hat off his head and took off at a gallop. Cicero shouted with feigned rage and pursued him as well as he and his horse could manage, but Thael was a skillful rider, weaving and zigzagging unpredictably across the plain. Eventually he darted into the forest. Cicero was able to keep track of him for a while, but eventually he disappeared into the wood, as he was born to do. Cicero came to a clearing, slowed his horse to a stop, and cocked his head, straining to hear any sign of the elf.
“All right, Listener! You win! Come out, and bring poor Cicero’s hat back!”
He was answered only by the hammering of a woodpecker somewhere close by.
“Listener!” Cicero frowned. “Where are you? Ooh, when Cicero catches you...”
“He’ll do WHAT, exactly?” said a voice directly behind him. Cicero jumped, then turned around to see Thael smirking at him.
“Ooh! You cruel, mischievous creature! Tricking poor Cicero!” he sniffed. “Give it back!” Thael laughed and flung his hat at him. He caught it. “That’s better.” He arranged it over his red hair, with an admonishing look at Thael.
“What a beautiful day!” Thael smiled up into the treetops and sighed.
“Yes...isn’t it?” Cicero looked around him. Not a soul was in sight, a cool, clear stream meandered ahead of them, and the trees towered around them like benign sentries. The smells of pine needles and earth and fragrant herbs filled the air. Yes...this place would do. “Listener, perhaps we should linger here for a while. We are not in any hurry to return to the Sanctuary, are we?”
“No, I suppose not. It would be a shame not to enjoy this lovely little wood. And the horses will need a rest.” Thael nimbly dismounted and led his horse to the stream. Cicero did the same.
After they had tethered the horses, Cicero leaned against a tree and watched Thael as he wandered silently through the clearing, his face registering delight and reverence at every new occurrence – the passing of a sparrow, the cry of a hawk, the whisper of wind through the pine needles. By Sithis, he was the purest and most innocent cannibalistic assassin Cicero had ever seen. He chuckled under his breath at the thought, then licked his lips and took a drink from his water skin.
“Cicero! Come over here and look at this snail I found!”
Oh, with pleasure, my Listener. He pulled off his gloves and stuffed them in his pockets, then glided to the Listener’s side.
As Thael nattered on about the markings on the snail’s shell, Cicero rested a hand on his lower back. As usual, he didn’t seem to notice or care. Then Cicero began rubbing his back, his open hand making lazy circles on Thael’s wool shirt, drifting closer and closer with each circle towards his delicious round buttocks...