Narfath took a swig of a jug of looted ale, wiped his mouth and unbuckled his weapon belt.“Delrog was a fool,” he commented as he tossed aside his sword, “When he invaded Kevlava he got his greedy paws on an elven princess, a noted beauty the legends say. But then he fell in love with her. Wanted to have her as his bride. And she butchered him in his sleep.”He pulled off his boots and threw them in a corner, almost hitting a rat.Brienne sat listening on the cushions. She was so petrified she dare not move, even though she could see that this repulsive orc was becoming more and more naked,“I will not be that stupid!” declared Narfath as he loosened his belt, “Elf cunt is meat! Meat is to taken! And then thrown away!”With a flourish his leather/fur outfit came off and went. He had his back to the whimpering elf in his bed. Slowly he turned so that she could see his naked body in profile.“By the Gods!” gasped Brienne as her jaw droppedThe penis of the orc warlord was bigger than any male. She had indeed done just that -- Blake had helped her pick it out -- and it had gotten onto at least six magazine covers that he'd seen.But that was image, and she put it on as easily as putting on clothes. The private Jenny, the one he saw, the one that perhaps only he and Jenny shared, reminded him of Marilyn Monroe, too. The real Monroe. Perhaps only Jenny and he knew that Jenny Easton was a desperately unhappy camper.If Blake had to sum Jenny up in a word, that word would be "homesick". She was not a person whose psyche fed on glamour, on adulation, on roaring crowds. Home, back in Spearfish Lake, represented a happier time, a happier life. The high point of her week came each Thursday, when the Spearfish Lake Record-Herald arrived, via next-day air -- the only copy of the paper sent out like that. Jenny devoured it, cover to cover, everything in it -- even the legals, the obituaries, the ads for used snowmobiles. She kept back issues of the Record-Herald around, and read them.
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