No smut this time: just a collection of snippets showing married life for our unusual family.

Recommended (but not compulsory) order of reading is as follows:

Midwinter

Wedding Night (rated M for smut)

Married Life (chapters 1-6)

Morning (rated M for suggestive content)

Married Life (chapters 7-10)

Fertility Rite (rated M for smut)

Married Life (chapters 11 onwards)

No character bashing intended here, but I'm sure some will take it that way regardless.

Married Life

Chapter One: Pride Goes Before A Fall

High Elf Archer let out a deep moan of satisfaction as she slid into the bath, the hot water caressing limbs and mussels that ached from a day of hard training.

As a Ranger, she was an expert with a bow, able to hit any target, even on the move. But painful experience had taught her that the close confines of a cave or underground tunnel could place limits on just how useful her agility was, so she had started training in hand-to-hand combat with some of the other Adventurers. She'd quickly discovered that a pair of short swords complimented her natural speed and agility, the 'two blades, one sword' style of fighting almost like a dance.

But then she'd gotten overconfident, and as the humans liked to say, pride went before a fall.

Challenging Orcbolg to a sparing match was supposed to have shown her husband just how far she'd come, and she'd jokingly asked him to 'fight like a goblin'. He'd tilted his armoured head to one side, and even after all they'd been through together, she still found it almost impossible to read him when she couldn't see his face.

The fight had been short, painful, and above all embarrassing, with several other Adventures watching. Some had shouted out encouragement or advice, while others had wagered on who was going to win. It was well known that Elves were prideful, and she had been determined to put on a good show for the spectators. Unfortunately, for all her speed and newly gained skill, Orcbolg was far more experienced at hand-to-hand combat, and had disarmed her with ease. Picking her dropped swords up off the ground, she'd smiled as she demanded another match. And he'd indolged her for the all of ten seconds it took him to once again send her blades crashing to the ground.

Someone behind her had laughed, and that's when she'd lost her self control.

Dropping into a roll, she scooped up her weapons and attacked again, seeking to catch her husband off guard. But he spent almost his entire life prepared to be ambushed by goblins at any moment, so while she forced him onto the defensive for a moment, it wasn't long before her swords were once again sent spinning from her hands.

At that point he had tried to end the match, but she was a High Elf, and only victory would sate her. Dropping to the ground, she spun a leg round, seeking to knock him down while grabbing her swords once again. He managed to dodge her attack, and that gave her the time needed to spring back to her feet and drop into an attack stance. He once again called on her to stop, even offered to concede the match to her, but her sense of pride her distaine and mockery in his voice that hadn't been there. She went at him with all her speed and ferocity, putting him on the defensive.

At no point did he try and fight back, or even to hurt her, but even that she saw as a fresh humiliation. Yes, Elves were a proud people, and that pride had been their undoing more than once. And it was very nearly hers.

The crowd had fallen silent, not that she'd been paying them much attention as she lashed out again and again again her husband, but time and again he disarmed her without doing any permanent damage, even she she put fresh cuts and knocks in his armour. She screamed at him through gritted teeth to stop holding back.

"No." His voice had been remarkably calm, but she knew him well enough for her keen hearing to pick up the genuine concern in it, "I could never hurt you."

She stopped mid strike, both swords held overhead, ready to be brought do in what could have easily been a killing blow. It took her a moment to realise that she had even frozen, that her body refusing to listen to her heart or her head. She looked up at him, and her arms fell to her side. She was a High Elf Ranger, a master with the long and short bows, able to move through the forest without making a single sound. But with a blade, she was still a novice, while Orcbolg had trained until his sword was an extension of his own will. It was the hight of hubris to think that she would be his equal after only a few weeks of casual training.

Resheathing her swords, she'd turned and left the Guild Hall, not stopping until her feet had found their way home.

The water was working to sooth away her physical pain, but she knew all too well that it would take far more to heal her wounded pride. She knew that Orcbolg wouldn't hold it against her; he simply wasn't the type, but that didn't mean that she wouldn't hold it against herself.

"I heard what happened." Cow Girl appeared in the doorway, a simple towel wrapped around her, "Sounds like the two of you put on quite the show."

"I was a fool." High Elf Archer hung her head low, "I am a fool."

"Then we're all fools." her wife crossed the tiles floor and sat herself on the edge of the bath, "Did I ever tell you about the first time I entered the cheese making contest?"

"I don't believe so, no."

"It was about six years ago: I was so sure of myself that I insisted on entering the cheese making contest at the summer festival." Cow Girl picked up a comb and started to run it through the Elf's long green hair, "People from all over the region take part, and it's considered quite the boon for a farm to have a champion cheese maker in residence."

"And you lost?"

"Worse: I came second."

"That doesn't sound so bad..."

"Nobody ever remembers who came second. No merchant seeks out the second best cheese maker on the frontier. Had I come last, I could have told myself that I still had a lot to learn, but instead I proved that I was good, but just not good enough."

"So what did you do?"

"I cried for about two days straight." Cow Girl chuckled, "I was inconsolable: nothing my uncle could say or do made me feel better."

"What did?"

"The realisation that I had a whole year to practice before the next festival."

"And you won that one?"

"No: I came second again, but it didn't hurt nearly as much."

"So you won the third year?"

"No, that year my uncle was sick so I couldn't enter. But, the forth year, I won."

"And the moral of the story is?"

"That I'm really good at making cheese." Cow Girl laughed, a musical sound that never failed to raise High Elf Archer's spirits, "And that, if you want to be good at something, then it takes time and effort."

"That may be true." the Ranger lent her head back against her wife's leg, "But how do I make it up to Orcbolg?"

"He's probably already forgotten about it." Cow Girl shrugged, "That or he's working on a new training regime for you so that you'll beat him next time."

"That sounds like him." the Elf managed to laugh, "But still, I need to make it up to him."

"Well, I could make his favourite stew for dinner. And maybe you could wear that red outfit with the leather straps that you're saving for his birthday..."

"If I wear that tonight, he's going to forget that you and..."

"We can take the guest room for the night if you want to... make up for your earlier indiscretion."

"Thank you." High Elf Archer looked up at her wife and smiled, "I'll make it up to you, both of you."

"Just keep that outfit handy." Cow Girl grinned, "I wouldn't mind a little fun time with you later."

To Be Continued