Chapter 2

Several miles behind them, the enchantress Polgara and her father Belgarath were leading their own pack of warriors. Silk, the trader; Relg, the rock-sayer of UL; Taiba, the last of the Marags; Barak, the Earl of Trellheim; and Durnik, the blacksmith. The conversation had died off a few hours ago - Polgara and Belgarath were aware that Garion had surrounded himself with pleasant company rather than a strong team, leaving them with the less talkative party members.

Belgarath, sitting proudly at the head of the party suddenly stopped. Every else cautiously followed suit, as the old man tilted his head to the left, and then to the right. He turned and faced his daughter.

"Did you hear that?"

She nodded somberly, and without another word, the two quickened their pace. Their horses, used to moving at a slow, casual trot, found themselves galloping through a twisted path in the forest.

The rest of the party looked at each other in bewilderment, and a few seconds later followed suit.

Polgara tried to reach out with her mind, to see what had caused Garion to use his will, but was unable to. She could hear the boy's magic (he still hadn't learned how to cast a spell without the whole world hearing) - it sounded consistent, like he was slowly moving something heavy, or shielding himself, but something was blocking her from seeing exactly what happened.

They were an hour behind; at full speed, no more than thirty minutes. She just hoped that was enough time to catch up and see what trouble he'd gotten himself into.

Garion had never had any form of intercourse before. Back on the farm, his childhood sweetheart - Zubrette - and he had locked lips a few times, but it had never gone further than that. He'd never even seen her unclothed; all that they had done was tentatively push their lips together, hands awkwardly dangling by their sides.

Of course, he understood the process. Between the glimpses of farm animals he'd seen, the stories he'd heard the men on the farm share, and his Aunt Pol's awkward attempt at sexual education (she was torn between a desire to keep her "nephew" innocent and a desire for him to understand as much of the world around him as possible) he had a grasp of the basics.

But nothing had prepared him for the surge of emotions involved. He'd discovered self-pleasure a few years earlier, and that had contained a hint of what he currently felt - lust, passion, the pleasure involved ... but as he looked down at Ce'Nedra, laying underneath him on the soft grass underneath the Nyissan tree, emotions were flooding into his head, into his heart, and even into the regions his hands had learned to explore when he was alone.

Garion had dismounted his horse and tenderly lifted the princess off hers. He'd laid her down, removed his pants and boots (the only clothes he was still wearing) and lowered himself on top of her.

Ce'Nedra's face was flushed with desire; she kept nervously biting her lip, and the looks that she was giving Garion were creating butterflies in his stomach. He tried to ensure that his face remained confident and in control - after all, he was the leader. It was his role to ensure that no one doubted him, to appear as though he knew exactly what he was doing.

And with that thought in his head, he lined himself up, and entered the princess.

Both Garion and Ce'Nedra involuntarily moaned; for Garion, it was pure pleasure. Ce'Nedra was wet and warm and soft and oh so willing, and all he felt was bliss as he sunk himself deep inside her. He had never felt anything that even compared to this - it was impressive that he was able to focus enough to keep his mental shield up as he experienced the greatest pleasure he'd ever encountered in his life.

Ce'Nedra, too, was feeling pleasure - not only the physical sensations that coursed through her body, but the pleasure in becoming one with the man she loved, in combining their souls and making their love complete. But as well as pleasure, there was pain in her moan - Ce'Nedra was untouched, and Garion was large. The combination of pain and exquisite pleasure brought tears to her eyes, and she was just thankful that the pain was already fading, and would soon be completely overpowered by pleasure.

After his sword reached the hilt, Garion paused. Both the princess and himself were breathing heavily, and he wanted to wait a few seconds so they could both adjust to what was a new and overwhelming experience for them. As they lay on the grass, as close as two humans are able to be, Mandorallen coughed nervously.

The teens started; they were so lost in each other that they'd forgotten where they were and who they were with. Ce'Nedra turned to her knight protector, even as Garion was inside her.

"What ails you, Mandorallen?"

Mandorallen had been struggling with himself since the pair's first kiss; on one hand, he was appreciative of their love, and his whole body sung out that it wanted nothing more than to watch them celebrate it, and celebrate it with them. On the other, he had started to feel stirrings down below, the kind that he struggled with every time he saw his father's bride, and he was certain that he was certainly not supposed to feel them when watching over the princess he had sworn his life to protect.

He'd kept quiet as their hands started exploring each other's bodies, even as they disrobed, but when he'd seen their young leader enter Princess Ce'Nedra, he'd involuntarily imagined himself in the boy's place, and his guilt had risen to the level where he was unable to hold his tongue any longer.

"My princess," Mandorallen said, uncharacteristically quietly. "Thou hast a magnificent body... -"

Ce'Nedra laughed, cutting him off with musical peals of mirth.

"My liege," she responded. "You honour me with your words."

"But thou must understand," Mandorallen continued, "magnificent though thy body is... -"

Ce'Nedra laughed again, but Mandorallen pressed on.

" ... thou must understand, we knights are not to be tempted by such treasures. Hath... -"

Ce'Nedra laughed once more, causing sensations untold to run through Garion's body. He was ready to continue what they had started, but was simultaneously enthralled by the peculiarity of the conversation between the young, naked princess in the middle of coitus and the knight protector, sitting upright on his horse, face beet-red.

"Mandorallen," Ce'Nedra said, her voice dripping honey. "Surely you can see it, surely you recognise love? That's all that's happening here, and I don't want you to be embarrassed or feel left out."

Hettar and Lelldorin exchanged glances nervously.

"I may be young, but in Tolnedra we believe in our women being worldly. I know what it is that men do to relieve themselves, and I know what this sight must be doing to you. I invite you - nay, I command you - to let yourself feel release as you watch this pairing between princess and peasant."

Lelldorin went to speak, but Ce'Nedra cut him off before he could begin.

"That goes for all of you, and that's an order from both of us. Isn't it, Garion?"

Never before had Garion been asked a question by a naked Dryad, especially not by one he was currently penetrating, but he suspected that even if he'd had a thousand years of practice, he'd still be unable to refuse any request asked of him by a lady in such a state.

"Of course it is," he stated assertively. "That's an order."

There was a mix of embarrassment and relief in the motions of Hettar, Mandorallen and Lelldorin, but as they were being commanded to do what their deepest desires were asking them to do anyway, not even a glimmer of resistance came from the three as they dismounted and unbuckled their pants.

Garion turned back to the naked young nymph in front of him, and whispered in her ear...

"Now, where were we?"

Even before he had left the farm, Garion was in good shape. Life on the farm will do that to a boy - he was constantly helping out anyone who could use a boy's help, which involved a lot of lifting and running. Since he'd left, however, he'd been alternately on horseback for ten hours a day, learning to sword-fight, or running around and trying to save the world.

Where before he'd been in good shape, now Garion was fit as a warrior. Ce'Nedra, as a child, had been surrounded by diplomats and traders, at best men of a slender stature; at worst, men wider than they were tall. Her fantasies had been that one of her stable boys would turn out to be a prince, giving her that coveted combination of a royal beau and a man who practically bulged with muscles.

Garion may not have been royal, but his muscles fulfilled all of her childhood fantasies, and more. She watched, entranced, as he used those muscles to effortlessly pump himself in and out of her, until the sensations became too much for her to bear and she lay back and let their union wash over her...