A Note on Practical Difficulties in Certain Mixed-Race Marriages

I have argued elsewhere that the reproductive incompatibility of the Principal Races should not be confused with sexual incompatibility. The distinction is medically obvious, socially relevant, and, under ordinary circumstances, sufficiently self-explanatory that I had never imagined needing to discuss it at length.

Then I attended the wedding of Torren Barag, a Dwarven metallurgist of some reputation, and Halla Skornsdottir, an Aesir surveyor whom I had met during my second northern expedition. The marriage itself was unremarkable except in the usual ways: too much food, several speeches that went on too long, and an elderly Dwarf who objected to an Aesir drinking song on grounds of meter. Someone attempted to settle the matter by producing a second drinking song with worse meter.

I had intended to leave early. Torren prevented this by finding me near the cloakroom and asking, with an expression normally associated with impending surgery, whether I might speak with him and his wife privately. I assumed illness, which was optimistic.

They had, he explained after several false starts, encountered a difficulty. Halla, who had apparently decided that embarrassment was inefficient, clarified the matter: they had been married three days earlier in a civil ceremony and had not yet successfully consummated the marriage. There are moments in professional life when one becomes acutely aware of every decision that led to the present one.

I asked whether either of them was in pain, then about bleeding, then about difficulty with arousal, and Torren answered no to each. When I came to fear he said no again, whereupon Halla said, “He is terrified.” Torren began to object, then caught his wife’s eye and withdrew it.

The difficulty was architectural. An adult Aesir woman of Halla’s build is nearly twice the mass of a Dwarf such as Torren and considerably taller even when seated. Dwarven bodies, though extraordinarily robust, are proportioned for compact leverage; Aesir bodies are built around length, mass, and a range of motion adapted to a much larger frame. Neither anatomy is defective. The problem arises when two otherwise healthy bodies attempt an activity whose usual mechanics assume partners of broadly similar scale. When I told them this, Torren replied, “Yes, we noticed.” I deserved that.

What followed was perhaps the most uncomfortable anatomical consultation of my career, made worse by the fact that both participants were entirely serious and plainly trusted me. They had already attempted to solve the matter by intuition, which failed, and then by what Torren described as “basic geometry,” which failed more comprehensively. Halla mentioned that at one point they had moved a bench. When I asked why, she said it had seemed useful at the time. Torren said it had not been. I did not ask what became of the bench. There are limits to inquiry.

I suggested first that they abandon the assumption that whatever posture worked conveniently for two Humans, two Dwarves, or two Aesir should necessarily be suitable for them. The objective was an arrangement in which neither partner was required to support the other’s weight, maintain an extreme joint angle, or rely upon a difference in height that simply did not exist in the intended direction.

This was, in retrospect, the moment at which the consultation became a challenge, and I do not respond well to unsolved mechanical problems. We moved from embarrassment into analysis. Halla, seated in an ordinary chair, had knees somewhere near her shoulders. An Aesir chair left Torren’s feet well short of the floor. We rejected both. Torren then proposed the bed, and Halla pointed out that the bed had already been attempted. I asked whether the mattress compressed substantially under her weight. After a silence, Torren said, “That may have been part of the problem.” We spent roughly fifteen minutes discussing furniture, and I wish to stress that this was a matter of load distribution rather than of prurience.

Eventually I concluded that the simplest solution was one in which Halla’s weight was fully supported by the bed, Torren’s footing remained stable, and neither partner was required to align their hips by attempting to compensate for nearly three feet of difference in stature. Once stated in those terms, the matter became embarrassingly straightforward. Halla understood almost immediately. Torren took slightly longer, and the moment at which he did understand was one I regretted being present for.

They thanked me. When I informed them that no thanks were necessary, Halla thanked me again. Torren shook my hand, which made it worse, and I left.

Two days later, while preparing to depart the city, I encountered them at breakfast. Neither of them said anything. Halla smiled, Torren would not look at me, and I consider this sufficient evidence that the consultation was successful.

The episode is worth recording only because mixed-race marriages are often discussed in either sentimental or alarmist terms, when many of their practical difficulties are neither profound nor tragic. Some are anatomical, some cultural, some legal, and some amount to discovering that furniture designed for one body plan becomes unexpectedly important when two very different body plans attempt to share it.

I should also note that neither Torren nor Halla had any expectation of children. Both understood perfectly well that viable Dwarf-Aesir offspring are unknown and, on current evidence, impossible. Their concern was intimacy rather than reproduction, which is another distinction physicians should be capable of making without moral panic. It is also one I hope never again to be asked to demonstrate with chairs.