Chapter 6
"Cheerio, young Elvis!" called the wizard Pinot Noir as the dwarf started his journey back to Gymryk City the next morning.
   "Goodbye, and thanks, Pinot!" he returned.
   "Remember, do not get those bottles mixed up," reminded the wizard, "We want you screwing, not screwing-up!"
   "Right!" he shouted. "Phew, things are moving so quickly. Yet another chapter and I'm not even in the castle."

It was evening again by the time he reached Gymryk. He found the castle and was not surprised to find a guard at the main gate. This guard was Imryk Ixard, a soldier famed for his low intelligence. He actually thought being on guard for eighteen hours at a stretch was a privilege.  Imryk was captain of the guards' team for the annual Get It Wrong Marathon Pub Quiz. Only he could defy the law of probability which states that during a twenty-four hour marathon get-it-wrong quiz, even the daftest contestant must get the answer to at least one question right by error. But Imryk was the champion; he never got a question right, ever.
   "Evening," greeted Elvis.
   "Mornin'," replied Imryk, because it was indeed evening.
   "Is the princess Virgin...ia in, please?"
   "Don't think so. No. Mind, she could be. Depends."
   "Depends on what?"
   "Whether she's out or not."
   Elvis was quickly aware of Imryk's mental deficiency and decided to capitalise on it. He took one of Pinot's bottles from his sack and pretended to swig at the contents. "Phwar, that's better."
   "What you got there, dwarf?"
   "Oh, you wouldn't like it; it's dwarf whiskey. Seventy percent proof iron ore spirit."
   "Cor. I've 'eard about that there stuff. They say it blows your socks off! I've been on guard duty for fourteen hours and I wouldn't mind a pull at that bottle, son."
   "Are you sure? It's alright for dwarves, but I'm not sure a Man can take it."
   "I can take it! Mind, don't tell a soul. If old Ribbed Tickler found out I'd been drinking on duty, he'd have my todger for a doorstop."
   Elvis looked both ways in mock conspiracy. "Well ... if your sure you can handle it. Not too much, mind."
   The foolish guard took a large gulp of the knock-out potion. His eyes blinked twice and he crumbled to the ground. Elvis grabbed the bottle from the limp hand then bundled the guard into the little guardroom. He found the key to the main gate and let himself in. Inside the courtyard, he stole around in the shadows checking for other guards. There were none to be seen or heard. High up on a tower he saw a light shining from an open window, and from the  same window came the sound of a spinet being played and a girl singing.
   "Right. That must be her room."
   He took from his sack an item which looked like a fountain pen. It had been a present from his older cousin two Yuletides ago. His cousin was none other than James Bond The Folding Grappling Iron Maker. Elvis twisted the cap and the rod extended to three times its former length, then from the end there sprouted four sharp points. It was a Dwarf Cunning Lightweight Grappling Iron. Feeling again in his sack, he found and produced a coil of extra strong but lightweight woven high tensile steel Dwarf Cunning Assault Cord. He tied this to the grappling iron. Across the courtyard from the tower was the high wall of the inner keep and it had narrow steps all the way up to the flat top. Elvis ran up these in his silent Dwarf Training Shoes. He was now level with the lighted window and could even see the top of the princess's head. He swung the grappling iron around several times and then let go. With a satisfying metallic ‘clink' it secured itself to the crenellations of the tower high above the princess's window.
   "Geronimo!" he whispered as he swung through the air towards the window. But his calculations on his trajectory were a little wrong; the rope was too long and he headed at an ever-increasing velocity towards a lower window.
   "Ooooooh, shiiiiiittttt!" he cried as he sped through the lower window and crashed unceremoniously onto a large bed. If is difficult to ascertain who was the most surprised: Elvis, as he saw the king sit up abruptly, his night cap all awry, or the king who had just had a dwarf land firmly on his most tender parts.
   "Bloody hell!"
   "Likewise," mumbled Elvis.
   The king attempted to regain his composure while massaging his tender genitals under the bedcovers. "Who ...(ouch) ... are you, dwarf ... (oh, that smarts) ... Give me one good reason ... (I'll never be the same again) ... why I shouldn't call out the guard and have them cut you into ... (I've never had such sore nuts) ... little pieces, stir-fried and fed to my ravens!"
   "Um, none, Sire, apart from the facts that ..." Elvis had to think quickly, "... the guards are all fast asleep; too much booze, I shouldn't wonder, and I am on a secret mission to help you greatly."
   "You, a dwarf, help me? I'll have your nuts on my mantelpiece for this! Guards!"
   "No, Sire. Please hear me out! I have the solution to your problem!" Elvis slid from the bed and paced around the chamber with his hands behind his back, just to create a little drama. "My dearest and most respected king Rex The Protective, he to whom we dwarves owe so much, I am here to ...", Elvis then had inspiration, which was just as well -- he was running out of time, "... to resolve your ..." There was no queen in the bed, and it was a long shot, "... marital problem." He continued in a soft whisper. "It has been getting around that things are not quite what they should be in this castle. I mean, a king of your renown stature in bed on his own at this time of night! Not that I am judging or anything, but we dwarves do owe you so much and we would love to help ..."
   "This had better be good, little fellow ... bloody good! Or I'll have your head on a dinner platter with your todger stuffed in your mouth."
   "Sire, these rumours ... nasty untrue stories, perhaps, but they are getting around ... that the good queen Phoebe, how can I put it? Yes; sleeps in a separate room to your majesty. And quite frankly ..." (his confidence was now building nicely) "... it is a disgrace. I do believe I can help you with this problem."
   "What? My snoring, you mean?"
   Elvis was taken aback ... here was his opportunity. "Er ... yes! The snoring ... exactly! I do believe it is the snoring that is the main trouble, so I have brought an ancient dwarf anti-snoring remedy. It works every time. Fully guaranteed. It also has other ... um ... interesting effects."
   "Like?" The king was definitely interested.
   "Like ... it helps a gentleman's ability to ... to ... service a good lady, if you get my meaning.  Not that sire has any problems in that area, I am sure! But it is an interesting and beneficial feature."
   "As a king, I do not, of course, have any problems in the rogering department. But, the snoring ... well, that's another thing; a problem to be sure. Bad nights make for bad next days in anyone's language."
   "Naturally. So may I suggest for a total success, the queen may benefit from another potion; one of an herbal nature that assures deep and therapeutic sleep. I just happen to have  a particularly effective draft ...." he produced another bottle, "... that I am sure will make the queen's slumber complete."
   "Very interesting." The king looked thoughtful. "What if ... well, let me put it like this: suppose, just suppose, and I'm speaking strictly hypothetically here, that a lady had ... er, gone off rogering? Is there a dwarf potion to restore her eagerness? Not that this has occurred, mind. I'm just thinking ahead, considering contingencies for the future, like a king should."
   "Ah ha! Then it's this little wonder!" enthused Elvis while producing yet another phial of  the wizard Pinot Noir's wonder-fluids.  "But for now, Sire, why don't you just try this anti-snoring  draft? Take a little sip, not too much ... and, oh, why not call your good lady queen for a small dose of the sleeping potion?"
   The king took a sip of the best stallion-staying-power potion which he thought was the anti-snoring draft. "Good idea, lad, I'll call the queen. Phoebe! Phoebe! Come in here, please!"
   The queen appeared and eyed Elvis with suspicion as the king explained all about the various potions that could improve their lives. Elvis nodded and smiled encouragingly. Already, things were stirring under the bed covers. The queen agreed with the good-sleeping-and-no-snoring plan and took a good swig at what Elvis thought was the knock-out potion. It was not; it was the extra quick-acting aphrodisiac.
   During the next few seconds a number of things happened. Things, which for the king and queen, had of recent years tended to take a great deal longer and more often than not failed to occur at all. The bedcovers on the king's bed started to rise in the middle so that they formed what was rather like a tent with a single pole in the middle.
   "My word," exclaimed the queen, "what's happening?"
   "I'll tell you what's happening," said the king, his voice revealing much excitement and not a small portion of incredulity, "I've just got the biggest firmest erection that I have ever experienced!"
   Somewhere inside the queen, in fact in several places inside the queen, neural messages sped around awakening hormones from their erstwhile slumber kicking them instantly into overdrive. "I've got to see this!" she squealed. She ripped off the bedcovers and her verbalised observation was, indeed, accurate to a tee. "Woweeeeee! What a beaut!!!"
   Not only was it a ‘beaut', but it was guaranteed by none other than Pinot Noir himself to last for several hours, if not days.
   "Rex! You right randy old regal ram-rod, you!" she cried, hitching up her nightdress and leaping astride the king. "Give me royal seeing-to! Roger me!"
   The "ooooh's" and "aaaah's" echoed around the chamber.
   King Rex took a couple of seconds to raise a hand to Elvis. "Young dwarf; well done! I hereby bestow you with the freedom of the castle! Help yourself to anything you want! Anything!" And with that, he got on with the serious and long outstanding matter of satisfying queen Phoebe. "Yippee! Ride him, cowgirl!"

With the king and queen occupied for that night at least and likely the next day and night as well, Elvis set about his Task. He knocked on the princess's bedchamber door. "Room service!"
   After much clunking of locks and clinking of chains, the door opened. "Oh," exclaimed Virgin...ia, "... a small, blond, ugly, poor, person. What do you want, small person?"
   "Your majesty." He bowed deeply. "Your dear father, my respected king, has ordered me to entertain you this evening. He feels so guilty because he keeps you locked up here at night away from young men. And as you would not even begin to think of fancying me as a suitor, you will be as safe as caves, as we dwarves say."
   "Huh." She was sullen. "You'd better come in. But you'd better not try anything or I'll scream blue murder. What's your name and what do you do?"
   "I, ma'am, am Elvis Floyd Brodsky-Timkin the Twenty-Fifth of Knortwych-above-Gymryk.  At your service ..." He bowed."... and I sing."
   "Not damned country music, I hope. I can't abide songs about dogs dying, sheep dying, crops failing and women having to sell their bodies because the bank's foreclosed on the farm mortgage."
   "No, I don't sing country music; mine's more ... cheerful."
   "By the way, you don't happen to have any booze on you, do you? I'm gagging for a decent drink," asked the princess.
   "Funny you should ask." He took one of the bottles from his sack, believing it to be the love potion. "Here, you'll like this; not too much, mind, it's strong." Elvis had actually got it right this time; it was the love potion.
   Princess Virgin...ia took a healthy swig from the bottle.
   "Steady! I said not too much!" warned Elvis.
   "Hmm! Nice. Now, entertain me!" The princess sat on her bed.
   "OK., ma'am, here I go!"
   With one deft movement, Elvis swung his lute from around his back and caught it by the neck. This time, it did not hit him under the chin.
   ‘Cool dude!' thought the princess.
   He stood legs apart, tuned the instrument and began an upbeat song.
    Just wanna be
    your teddy bear..
    Run your fingers through my hair
    An' cuddle me real tight ...
   As he sang he swivelled his pelvis, wriggled his knees and flicked his long hair around. His upper lip took on a dear sexy kinda curl.
   ‘Real cool horny dude!' thought the princess. She clapped her hands to the beat of the music and applauded when he finished.
   "Why, thank you, ma'am," said Elvis, bowing again. "And now ..."
   He sung another song. He kept an eye on Virgin...ia and could tell from her relaxed body language that she liked his songs ... and him. He accentuated his sexy body movements and occasionally flicked her a sexy snarling grin.  Every time he thrust his pelvis forward in a suggestive manner, a little tingle shot from her groin up through her stomach and into her throat ... and back again. Her skin tingled and her nipples became so excited that they throbbed to the beat of the music.
   ‘Wow, what a dead horny guy!' she thought. She studied him. OK., so he wasn't a tall, dark, handsome, rich prince, but he'd got ... style. His young face was not ugly, she decided, but ruggedly attractive. And did he know how to move those hips!
   Elvis thought it was now about time for the heavy stuff. "OK., ma'am. I'm gonna sing you a special kinda song now. It's one I wrote especially for a beautiful princess ... the most beautiful princess in all the world ... like, you, babe. An' I ain't never gonna sing it for anyone else but you."
   "Ooooooh," she sighed, melting at his romantic words. His voice had become deep and velvety in quality and he sounded so ... damned sexy.
    I will spend my whole life through
    Lovin' you ... jus' lovin' you.
    I'll be faithful, I'll be true
    always true, true to you.
    Makes no difference where I go
    or what I may do ...
   Princess Virgin... ia was almost swooning from the effect of the words and his sonorous voice. He was singing this beautiful song just for her. Her song. ‘What's happening to me?' she thought. ‘I can hardly control myself. I want him. Gods, how I want him to roger me!'
   When Elvis had finished singing, he stood still and silent.
   She smiled. "Come here, Elvis."
   He put down the lute and approached the bed.
   A sudden impish thought sparkled into the princess's mind. "Elvis? Do you mind if I ask you a rather personal question?"
   "Certainly not. We dwarves are open minded people. We have no hang-ups at all. Ask away."
   "Is it true what they say about dwarf men? Like, although you are small people, you are particularly well endowed in the begetting department?"
   "What, this you mean?" He dropped his trousers and clean underpants.
   Princess Virgin... ia had never seen any man without trousers, let alone a dwarf ... but like the saying went, they were particularly well endowed in the begetting department.
   "Friggin' Nora!!!" she exclaimed, almost passing out at the sight of his generously proportioned member. "Gimme some of that!" With that, she slipped off her nightdress and exposed what can only be described as a perfect young female body.
   "And gimme me some of that!" exclaimed Elvis.
   "Oh, bugger! We can't!" she announced.
   "Why?"
   "This damned chastity belt, that's why!"
   "What, that little old thing? Let me have a look ..." He smiled. It had a brass combination lock which he recognised; it had been made by his uncle Chubby Checker The Chubb Lock Twister. He deftly lined up the numbers to open the lock. The numbers were well known to him: all his uncle's combination locks had the same numbers; 11, 12, 44; his birth date!
   "You're clever as well as horny," panted the princess, "Take me ... NOW!"
   "Just a second ..." he reached for his sack to take out a bottle.
   "What's that stuff?" she asked.
   "Well, it's an old dwarf potion. It ensures that a man ... um ... lasts a long time. Several days, so I'm told."
   "You won't be needing that, lover boy! Not with me!" So saying, she grabbed the bottle and threw it out of the open window. "Probably doesn't work anyway!"
   "Huh. Why shouldn't it? The love potion worked on you," he said in defiance.
   "What love potion? Oh, that so-called dwarf wine? I didn't really drink any, I just pretended to. You don't think I'm stupid enough to take weird drinks from strangers, do you?"
   "Then you mean ... you actually fancy me without a love potion?"
   "Of course I do, silly! Now shut up, man, and get on with it before this bloody writer starts yet another chapter. You've got a l-o-n-g night's work ahead of you. I need seeing-to in a ... big way."