A bedroom scene written by a novelist who would not normally venture into such territory
‘The going will be slow – and fiendishly hard,’ said Oblib, glad of a bed for the night at the Inn of Erutpar. ‘Are you sure you are eager to come?’
‘More than eager,’ sighed Loingrid, Princess of Rodrom, whose garments, woven in silk by the Glodmyns, had long been discarded. ‘Are these to your liking?’
‘Mercy!’ cried Oblib, emboldened by Fladnag. ‘Never since the twin peaks of Dedred have I seen such beauty.’
‘Good, but beware of journeying south!’ warned Loingrid. ‘After you’ve roamed through the Plains of Abdom, paused at the Circle of Levan and trekked through the forested Mound of Vortican, nothing can save you from what lies within. There, where none but the boldest of Sniggabs dare penetrate, lies the prize. Will you, Oblib, be tempted to venture there?’
‘With Fladnag’s blessing,’ said Oblib, empowered by firm resolve and fired with fervour, ‘nothing can stop me!’
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