Elf-Boy and Friends

Elf Boy and Unicorn

Part 5 of 10

by George Gauthier

Chapter 20. The Twins Again

"Sir, with the threat of a barbarian invasion from the northeast, why are we here on maneuvers all the way on the other side of the Eastern plains, to northwest of the source of the threat, in the foothills of the dividing range that separates the plains from the Commonwealth proper?"

After four months, Wroclaw, the Chief of Scouts had become resigned to endless questions from his newest scouts, those twin chatterboxes Jemsen and Karel. Still Jemsen's was a good question, as indeed most were. Time then to explain the mission to the handful of scouts who were with him. T9he rest were back with the regiment in Dalnot.)

"Men, we are here for a particular purpose, namely so you can familiarize yourselves with the layout of the logging roads in these parts. It shouldn't be a difficult task. All the roads are clearly marked and posted, and their layout is logical. The roads all start at a wide shelf two-thirds of the way up the mountain. From that point five graded roads lead down to the plains where we are now.

This is Top Secret, men. Don't put anything in writing, no maps and no entries in journals, and that goes double for a certain blond recruit, who shall remain nameless, but who has trouble keeping his trews on."

The men all looked over at Karel, who was actually wearing silk trews that day for the long ride so he would not rub his thighs raw.

"The reason is simple but important. Despite all appearances, these are not logging roads at all. Oh I know the story, the rumor really, put out there by our Military Intelligence folks. Supposedly legal title to these timberlands is in dispute with the case tied up in the courts, as it has been for several years. The lawsuit is what brought logging operations to a halt before the timber barons could do more than build these access roads."

He paused and looked over at Karel expectantly. The "unnamed blond recruit" recognized his cue and asked:

"So sir, why then were these roads built? Where do they lead to, Chief Wroclaw?"

"It's not where they lead to, son. It's where they lead from." Wroclaw replied cryptically. "Not your fault Karel since you are not from the Commonwealth, but can anyone else tell me what lies on the other side of the mountains?"

Sergeant Borden saw no one else knew or would venture an answer so he piped up.

"I am not sure what you are getting at, Chief, but I do know this much. There is a silver mine on the other side of the mountains. Played out now, as I have heard. The miners dug a wide tunnel straight into the mountain nearly all the way through. It is closed down now, though a few miners do a bit of exploratory digging. The mining company maintains their paved access road and the ventilation equipment, so they must hope to open a new vein or something."

"Good, very good. You are right of course, sergeant. And completely wrong at the same time. What you just recited is the second part of the cover story. You see, the vein of silver is not played out at all. There is still enough metal to make it worth while digging it out. But now the mine belongs to the military. Any guesses why?"

"A tunnel!" Jemsen and Karel blurted out in unison, inspired by their directional sense. "It's really a tunnel through the mountain for a secret road linking east and west."

"Smart boys!" Wroclaw said beaming at the perspicacity of his young proteges.

"When the enemy attacks the Commonwealth, their army will push westward then swing south, always keeping these mountains on their right to anchor their flank. Our Army of the Plains will feign a retreat south, pulling back three days' ride to where a fair sized river makes a plausible defensive line. The invaders will march south against our army, hoping to break through our hasty fortifications before we can bring up reinforcements from the Commonwealth proper. They will march past these timberlands with hardly a thought.

At the right moment, when the enemy is fully committed to an attack on our defensive line along the river, a Commonwealth war wizard will use something called 'white fire' to blast through the final plug of stone to open a hole in the flank of the mountain, one big enough for an entire army of infantry. Now a single unpaved road leading from the exit would turn into a quagmire trampled under so many feet. We are talking ten or twelve thousands. maybe more. That is why they built five distinct pathways down to the line of departure at the foot of the mountains. The Expeditionary Army will form up there then march south to close with the enemy from behind.

The invaders will be caught in a vice, north and south, crushed between two armies. And there is no escape for them by retreat to the east either. They are on foot and cannot move faster than the Southern army can cover ground on their horses. You see the high command doesn't want to just defeat or turn back the invaders. This will be a battle of annihilation. The best part from our own point of view is that the High Command won't throw us scouts into the battle line. We will watch the fracas from a vantage point up in the hills, rounding up any stragglers who come our way. We should have a good view of the slaughter."

Grim smiles greeted this prospect. Many of the scouts were Plains folk and had scores to settle with the barbarians, for family, friends, or neighbors kidnapped, enslaved, tortured, or slain outright. Still to reinforce the need for secrecy, that evening, Sergeant Borden dropped by to visit the twins.

"Listen fellas. Watch your talk off while off-duty. If you let this secret slip out, you'll be for the chop. No one can help you then, not me, not the Chief, hell not even the Regimental Commander. It is that important."

"We understand Sergeant. Everyone thinks that because we are such chatterboxes we cannot keep our mouths shut when we need to. Or that, at eighteen, we are so young we must be just bursting to hint to everyone what a tremendous secret we have. Dumb kids would reveal it out too, if only to prove they really did have a secret."

"Sure it's a story with a strong appeal for any boy: a secret tunnel through the mountains, military roads hidden in plain sight, war wizards wielding white fire, whatever that is, and a plan for a battle of annihilation. Heady stuff, but despite appearances Jemsen and I are not a pair of dumb blonds. We have been around, seen blood being shed, even shed some ourselves. Don't worry, we won't let you down nor Chief Wroclaw or the Commonwealth."

"Just what I wanted to hear. Chief Wroclaw too. Not that he would ever admit it, but he is really partial to you guys and I don't mean he is hankering for a shag. You are good scouts, good comrades, good soldiers, much like he hoped his own boys would grow up to be if they hadn't died as children."

"Now listen, the Chief told me that I would be in charge of the five scouts who will guide the army columns down the trails. We will be deployed on foot, just like the infantry and wait in a cold camp wrapped in our camouflage cloaks while the barbarians march past us heading south. When the war wizards blow a hole in the mountain, we simply pop up and show the army the way down."

After training maneuvers the regiment returned to the garrison town of Dalnot where the six scouts joined them. The twins kept their mouths shut about what they had been told, not even talking with each other, nor with the other scouts, lest they be overheard. They had to assume that the enemy had spies in every army town, especially in places of public recreation and refreshment like the bars, brothels, eating places, and dance halls.

The last thing the boys would ever do was betray a trust. They genuinely liked and respected both their sergeant and the Chief of Scouts. They were the kind of leaders you hoped to serve under. Both boys had vivid memories of the first time they went up in a kite. Scared spitless, as they say, the boys awaited their first flight with mounting trepidation. Then Wroclaw had taken them aside and spoken to them more like a favorite uncle than their commanding officer.

"Listen kids. I know we put the fright into you when we first met, exaggerating how high we send our kite flyers up. The truth is, on these first training flights, you won't go up much more than thirty man heights. And it is a lot less scary than you'd think. Up there, flying free, you feel cut off from the earth. That is quite different from looking down from a height, say a tall tree or a crag. Soon you stop being scared and realize what a great thrill it is. Be honest, what is it about high places that really frightens you?"

"Well," Jemsen ventured. "In high places, like up a cliff, I become afraid that I might suddenly be seized by a crazy desire to jump, to just push off and fall to the ground and kill myself, though I certainly don't want to die."

"Me, too." Karel admitted. "I know it's insane, but the fear of what I might do despite myself makes me hang on for dear life. And shake like a leaf."

"Your honesty does you credit, boys. All of that is true. The thing is, when you go up in a kite, it's nothing like being atop a tree or a crag. Flying in a kite, you no longer have a solid connection with the bottom of that drop, whether from a tree or a cliff. You have nothing to hang onto. There is just a slender rope, which is more about keeping you from drifting away than connecting you to the earth. In no time the thrill of it all gets to you as you work your flaps to turn yourself left and ride or to guide the kite up, down, or sideways. You are free as a bird. It is the greatest feeling in the world!"

"And you know this, how?" Karel asked.

"Son, hard as this might be to believe, I have been up there myself, back in the day. I wasn't always old and grizzled and bulked out, like I am now. At your age, I was quite the svelte youngster, if you can believe it. Don't let that get about, of course. What I am saying is, I know what you feel, and I know you boys have grit. You will do just fine aloft. Trust me and trust yourselves."

And they did. That first flight was one of many that followed4. Soon the boys were begging for flying time. As Sergeant Borden had said:.

"Remember your first day with us? I told you that you could learn a lot from the old Chief. I was right, wasn't I. Now you know why all of us scouts think the world of our Chief."

"You can count on us, sergeant." Karel replied. "Why we'd do anything for the chief, even if he can't spell his own name right. And right now, what we have to do for him is to keep our mouths shut about the secret plan."

"Plan? What plan?" the sergeant asked pointedly.

"Oh, right. Of course. There is no plan, none at all. How foolish of me to think otherwise."

Chapter 21. A Night on the Town

Still the teenage twins could not entirely contain their growing excitement. They needed an outlet for their excess energy. And what better for that than a night on the town: drinks, dinner, and dancing. Who knew, maybe they could meet someone or better yet two someones. Two pair, three of a kind, or even four of the same suit might be fun. Might be just what they needed.

For the occasion, something more than casual nudity seemed called for. Not their riding silks, which were too reminiscent of a uniform. Instead they chose linen kilts, pleated to hold their shape. Bleached white, the garments would look good on their sun-bronzed bodies.

"No, no. Not like that, Karel. You want to wrap the kilt to hang from your hip bones and butt. Not so loose that it slips off and drops to the dance floor. But loose enough that it looks like it might let go of its precarious perch on your rump and do just that. Leave a finger or so of cleavage showing to tantalize and frustrate potential suitors all at once."

"You are wicked, dear brother."

"Nothing piques prurient interest so much a bit of mystery." he quoted with assurance, one finger pointed professorially to the sky.

"Now you're starting to sound like Balan."

The twins has come around to a less doctrinaire view of what it meant to be an elf-friend. Sure the last three years had been a lot of fun, running around with nary a stitch. That was fine for hunters in the deep woods or at home in their rural village. And perfect when they sojourned among the elves. Now they lived among thousands of humans in an army town or went out with their regiment as scouts wearing riding silks. They still went around naked quite a lot, whether running the track or cross-country, at the swimming hole, training hand to hand or with staves, and in and around their barracks and in bed. But clothing did have a place in their lives after all, albeit a modest one.

After a satisfying dinner at one of the better restaurants in town, the twins went to a drinking establishment favored by those who fancied pretty boys and by pretty boys who favored being fancied. They stepped out onto the dance floor and slow danced together to a languid tune played mostly by the woodwinds in the band, then split up to pair with eager suitors, always a new partner for the next dance.

It looked like they were going to score with a pair of clean-limbed southerners, when an altercation distracted the twins. It seems that the pretty little bar-back was getting grief from a customer who wouldn't take no for an answer. A soldier by his uniform, he had virtually taken the diminutive lad captive with his right hand closed around the boy's genitals. In a very young voice the boy complained.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I am not for rent? Look all you want, even cop a feel of my bare butt if you want. That's OK. The management pays me to tidy up and, and yes, to look cute and sexy for the customers, but that is all. I don't put out for coin."

"Well it is damn unfair, a pretty little thing like you parading around in nothing but a tiny silk pouch, just asking to be bent over for a shag, and yet you claim you're not a rent boy. Here, let's get a better look at you."

The soldier pulled the pouch right off the boy, balling it up and tossing it over his shoulder. He continued to fondle the squirming boy while commenting on his attributes:

"That's better, totally naked without distractions. Hmmm, rather under-equipped aren't you, even for a boy as small as you are. Probably these underground spheres are why you are so tiny and girlish. Ha, there isn't a feather anywhere on your body."

"I am an elf-boy, so I am naturally smooth. Anyway, I prefer to think of myself as epicene or androgynous rather than girlish." the boy threw back haughtily. "Which is a vast improvement over the coarse, oafish, and overstuffed sort of male such as yourself."

The twins had to admire the kid's gumption. Here he was a little guy, no taller than Aodh really, short, slight of build, smoothly muscled, and glabrous, standing up to a guy who literally had him by the balls. One healthy squeeze from the big bruiser would permanently fix the boy's voice an octave higher. Poor kid, either the elf-boy was stubbornly trying to punch above his weight, or he had a death wish.

Jemsen and Karel looked around for the bouncer but saw that that worthy was occupied talking down two big drunks who were glowering at each other. The object of their contention was a nude boy crouched on the floor between them, trembling with fear. Definitely a rough crowd that evening.

The bar-back's dark blond hair was cropped short like their own much lighter locks, though not for the same reason. His cut was intended to reveal the pointed tips of his ears, indicative of elf heritage. But a blonde elf? And with blue eyes. On second look, the boy must be a rare human-elf hybrid. Regardless of his heritage, the twins did not like seeing defenseless kids getting pushed around. So they stepped in. If it came to a fight, well Aodh had trained them well in unarmed combat, and anyway, it was two to one. Three counting the elf-boy. Likely enough muscle to make the big man back off without a fight.

"That's enough from you, big man. Leave him alone and find yourself another boy. One who is willing."

"And what business is it of yours anyway." the soldier asked querulously. "You look like a couple of rent boys yourselves. Who are you to tell me what to do? Why you're nothing but a pair of skinny kids and foreigners at that."

"What we are is elf-friends, and that boy is an elf. Which makes him our friend and you our business." Jemsen told him flatly.

By that time, the bouncer had sorted out his own troublesome customers. He walked over and confronted the soldier.

"Do we have a problem here?" he asked belligerently.

Seeing himself hopelessly outnumbered, the big man took himself off. With a nod toward the retreating soldier, the bouncer said.

"Watch yourself when you leave, boys. That's a mean one. Had to throw him out once before."

"You OK, Randy?" he asked the elf-boy, his voice suddenly soft and solicitous."

"Yes, I am, Van, thanks to you and to these two."

The bouncer nodded, and gently rubbed the boy's face with the back of his hand, then returned to his station in the corner.

"Van is sweet on me." the boy explained needlessly. "Here I'm called Randy, but that is really a stage name. It's short for Randell. My friends just call me Ran. Thanks for stepping in. Everyone thinks all elf-boys are ready to bend over for any older male. I am not like that. I don't like big, hairy, older men. Now cute young guys like yourself, that is another story. I'd jump your bones any day."

"Hey, no obligation for what we did, Ran, which wasn't all that much anyway. We just don't like bullies. This is my twin Karel; I am Jemsen. We are elf-friends, and I guess you count as one of them, with those ears and cheekbones and all, but blond? Care to explain?"

"My granther was an elf who took a human woman for a bride. In time another elf got their daughter with child, though out of wedlock. That's how I was born."

"Is that why you live among humans, forced out because you were a bastard. You are mostly of elf stock, after all."

"No, it's because my sexual preference is bizarre by their standards. I like boys all right, which is fine. But I also hanker after females, human females. Unlike ours, your females are always in season. I find them irresistible. It's the human blood in me. So I started sparking with the girls from the human village nearby."

"Whoa! I can see how that might offend the traditionalists."

"To put it mildly. Both sides took offense, the elves because I was less and less available to them, the human males because I was more and more available to their women folk. I got chased out of town by a joint posse of vigilantes. Oh, I got away easily enough. They wanted me gone, not dead. Still, there I was cut off from everyone I knew, stark naked, penniless, empty handed, and untrained for any trade. Which is why I had to take this job, and was lucky to get it. Otherwise I would have had to work in a brothel. Better money, sure, but I like to choose who gets to plow my ass."

"It was Van who put the boss up to hiring me. He is a good man and means well so I let him have me every so often. For such a big man, he is surprisingly gentle in bed, careful not to hurt me. So there is my tale of woe. Now it is your turn. How did you two ever become elf-friends?"

The twins explained the origins of their distinctive tattoos then gave their new friend a quick account of their recent adventures.

"Wow! I heard about you two boys, the brave archers who traveled across the continent, battling deadly foes alongside an elf-boy, a unicorn, and a giant. I once saw your group on the street passing by. My oh my, when I think of all that scrumptious boy flesh, the two of you, that dreamy elf-boy, plus the exotic young minstrel, then it's palpitations!" he finished, hand placed over his heart melodramatically.

The twins nodded. "We've had palpitations and then some with both of those cute guys. You are right. They do indeed stir the blood. As do you, little Ran, if you don't mind my saying so."

"I don't mind at all. In fact I have an idea. Why don't the three of us leave this place and get better acquainted?"

With a nod to Van, Ran lead the way through the door. They went to the twins' barracks which was otherwise empty that night. Two scouts in one alcove were away carrying dispatches, the third alcove was vacant, and the pair in the fourth didn't get back till dawn, staggering in singly, and much the worse for wear.

That suited the twins and Ran just fine. The trio were up half the night, making love in all possible combinations and positions. One time, in all that excitement, Karel rolled right off their beds and onto the floor, only to pick himself up and rejoin the lovemaking. Ran especially enjoyed the twins' elf-boy sandwich technique, and showed the twins a few new tricks of his own. Finally tired and spent, the three fell into a satisfying post-coital slumber.

Ran bunked with the twins for a couple of days before Karel thought of a way for all of them to be together. The twins had a tidy amount on account with the paymaster who operated a savings bank for the soldiers. They could easily afford to hire Ran as a camp boy at more than the wages he was making as a bar back. As camp boy Ran would take care of the irksome chores that accompany military life.

Sergeant Borden and Chief Wroclaw had no problem with Ran's presence, though the chief insisted that Randell, emphasis on the second syllable, sign on with the scouts as their "runner' to make his presence official. Which lifted him a notch above ordinary camp followers. And also put him on the army's payroll, sparing the twins that expense.

Since the elf boy would not be riding astride but only on a supply wagon or simply walk or run alongside, he would not need riding silks. The twins outfitted him with only a silk cloak like theirs and a skimpy loincloth, a narrow strip of fabric he could pull between the legs and flip the ends over a length of rawhide tied around his hips. For an elf, that was formal wear, at least among humans. Among elves, of course, formal wear meant no wear at all, except maybe flowers.

Ran was very happy with his new friends and with the prospect of adventure in the coming war. Never a lazy sort, he didn't mind the drudgery of housekeeping: sweeping, dusting, scrubbing the plank floor. For one thing, he found military standards of cleanliness congenial to his elven heritage. For another, there was a lot he did not have to do. Yes he changed the sheets and made beds with tight military corners but took the soiled linen over to the quartermaster laundry to be washed and hung out to dry.

Meals were taken in the mess hall so no sweating over a hot stove or clean up in the kitchen, though the elf-boy was very good at cooking over an open fire. Enough so that the scouts sometimes skipped the mess hall for an alfresco supper of rabbit broiled on a spit, tubers buried under the fire and baked in their skins, and a salad of fresh greens locally gathered or purchased in the market. In any event, here was one skill of Ran's that would be very useful on campaign. Ran did not try to bake bread. You needed a good oven for that.

The twins expected to teach the blond elf-boy the essentials of unarmed self-defense, but found him to be very good at it already, nearly as expert as Aodh, which was saying something. He would have taken care of that bully in the bar himself except his boss would not like him doing Van's job.

Ran won over the scouts when he introduced them to a lively pastime from back home. It involved flinging a pie tin back and forth. Held face down and flung with either a forward or back hand motion, the tin would sail gracefully over to another guy who had to snatch it out of the air and return it. It played just as well with three as with two. The game required a lot of running and reaching and stretching as well as speed and coordination, so the Chief deemed it good exercise for his scouts.

His men enjoyed it for the fun and the challenge, trying out fancy moves like reaching behind to catch the tin or sailing it between the legs. Sometimes the second man had to fade back and run to where the tin was headed, reaching up or even jumping to catch it. Naturally all this action was accompanied by smiles and laughter. Boys will be boys, especially Jemsen, Karel, and Ran.

Everyone loved to watch the delectable bodies of the supremely cute trio of youngsters, nude, glabrous, and slippery with sweat, grappling and twisting and straining, muscles bunching erotically, struggling for breath, trying to throw and fetch and jump. The new sport might have been invented just to display the youthful male body at its athletic best.

Chapter 22. The Great Entrapment

Six months later, Count Klarendes, his sons, and Aodh traveled to Dalnot to rendezvous with the twins and to get first hand accounts of the great victory the armies of the Commonwealth had won over the barbarians. They had heard that the invaders had marched into the trap the High Command had devised for them. Very few combatants survived, just the few score had managed to get away, out of ninety thousand warriors.

"We are letting their camp followers return to their homeland." Jemsen remarked. "Much more than that, they were a whole people on the march: old men, women and children, with their animals, wagons, tools and portable wealth. They never expected to return but intended to settle here on the plains, in the lands they hoped to seize. Along with all the herds and fields they could appropriate from Commonwealth citizens after their men folk killed them."

"I am not so sure how merciful that was, turning them loose." Karel continued. "I have since learned that the barbarians had torched the homes and villages they left behind them and even girdled orchards and set fire to woodlots. Done everything except poison their wells. Their great prophet made sure they would have no retreat, nowhere to go back to. It was either win or die. They all died. Now it is the turn of their families. No way they can get a full crop in, even if they had seed. You cannot run farms with only graybeards, women and children, no men, and with few draft animals and those short of fodder. No way to defend themselves against the next wave of barbarians, either."

"Next wave?" Artor asked.

Klarendes nodded. He had talked with officers who knew him. With his special responsibility for the army's redoubt on this side of the mountains, he had the right to be briefed on what to expect next.

"There are millions of them to the east, scattered across a vast land. They don't build cities and have very few real towns. Mostly they dwell in hamlets of a few families or in isolated homesteads, occupying what flat ground they can find in their mountain hollows. The population density is low, but their territory is huge, much bigger than the Commonwealth's. Hence their seemingly endless numbers. The barbarians are mostly human but their territory has enclaves of orcs, so many are of mixed blood. Ugly cusses, as you twins will have seen for yourselves.

The good news is that. with this recent defeat, we will have two or three years to get ready for the next wave. And preparation goes on not only here on the plains. Across the Commonwealth, in all military districts, new regiments for the standing army are being raised. The militia are drilling more seriously. There is nothing like a threatened invasion to concentrate minds. Supplies of arms at district armories are being topped off. Fletchers, bowyers, arrow smiths, and sword smiths are working two shifts. City walls and forts are being strengthened. "

"Oh? Karel asked. "I didn't see any protective walls around their cities except at Bled which lies at the inner end of that pass through the mountains."

"Indeed." Klarendes explained. It is just the frontier towns that have formal walls. In the rift valley, with its population of nearly one hundred million, we like to say that the militia are their own city walls. For which role, they are well-trained. They take drill seriously since the tax rates of their cities are adjusted up or down, depending on the result of strict inspections for military preparedness. Understand, the militia are not intended to march as an expeditionary army. They don't have the logistical tail required for maneuver warfare. But they can form up in the surrounding fields and give battle for their cities, sparing them from destruction.

Also, did you notice the outer ring of buildings at the boundary of the built up areas? From outside the city, they present blank walls for the first two stories. The upper stories or roofs serve as parapets, while gates can close off every street. Even if any enemy breaches this shallow outer ring, each district becomes a fortress in itself, with the major public buildings sheltering the populace and open areas like parks, gardens, and training grounds offering wide fields of fire. No, our populous cities would be death traps for any army foolish enough to try to penetrate them.

Siege is pointless, given our huge stores of foodstuffs and easy access to water, not to mention the ease of resupply and reinforcement by river or military road. Meanwhile the western half of the Commonwealth is beyond the reach of any attack from the east, safeguarded by our navy on the river, and ready to mobilize fresh forces and send them across to counter attack."

"No, this has been studied and war-gamed for a century. The Commonwealth is too powerful to fall to any conventional attack even if pressed on all its borders at once. Maybe we could not take on the whole world at once, but we could take on all the lands near enough to march against us. And everyone knows it. Which is why the peace among civilized states has lasted so long. The militia is also why the Commonwealth never became militaristic or belligerent. The populace are very much defense minded and stay at home sorts. We never go looking for a fight, but we are ready for one if forced into a war.

The last time anyone seriously challenged the Commonwealth was a coalition of piratical states along the southern coast of the Great Inland Freshwater Sea. Once the Commonwealth took the threat seriously, the ultimate outcome was inevitable. Those predatory city states no longer exist. Fed up with decades of predation and limited warfare, the navy mobilized to sweep the sea of their ships and drive the rest into port. Our war wizards brought down the cliffs that enclosed their sheltered harbors, blocking the pirate towns from access to open water, then flattened the towns themselves with earthquakes. The strategic lesson was there for all to see:"

"Do not mess with the Commonwealth. Do not provoke us enough to drive us to exasperation. You really do not want our undivided attention."

"With that campaign against piracy we gained the gratitude of all civilized lands surrounding the Inland Sea. They all know we have no further territorial ambitions of our own. Why fight when you can engage in trade to everyone's advantage? Which is why we are surrounded by states that are either allied, unaligned but friendly, or at least reconciled to our hegemony. The Commonwealth is never heavy handed toward peaceable neighbors. And we have the support of the druids and vice-versa."

"That is why the druids are so worried. Surely the Dark Prophet of the barbarians realizes all this. So what does he know that we do not?"

"Then why did their prophet throw away an entire army in this first campaign?" the minstrel asked.

"Good question, Aodh. I think he really expected to win here on the plains, beyond the centers of power of the Commonwealth and before we were fully mobilized. Remember, until recently our Army of the Plains was only about six or seven thousand. Reinforcements raised that number to nearly ten thousand. They came at us with nine times that many.

"Seizing the plains would give their prophet a base to raise a cavalry army to march beside his infantry hordes. And it would deprive us of our own best cavalry country. Two birds, one stone. Their leaders had no inkling of the trap we had set for them. Still, that is a trick you can use only once. And of course, a tunnel runs in both directions. So now we have to keep a garrison at the tunnel with a war wizard ready stationed nearby to collapse it, if necessary."

"Wheels within wheels," Ran said, shaking his head. "What a tricky business warfare is. And a bloody one too. I saw it for myself, fetching replacement arrows for our archers. Those repeating crossbows of theirs need a lot of ammunition. The barbarians outnumbered us ninety thousand to our not quite ten thousand. Yet they never stood a chance. Especially when that second army closed the trap."

"There was more to it than you could see, young Randell" Klarendes explained. "Colonel Urqaart told me that the barbarians had to attack across the bed of a braided river, two hundred paces across, all mud flats and shallow channels, no cover of any kind. They couldn't even duck out of sight underwater, not when it was only shin deep. Our men were dismounted and sheltered behind earthworks studded with pointed stakes. The worst obstacle was that the southern bank of the river flows east along an old fault line, where the land was upthrust in some ancient cataclysm. It rises more nearly a man height above the river bed, too high for men to cross easily. Especially in the face of a berm equally high built atop the bank, plus sharpened stakes and stake filled-pits dug under the water to trip or impale the unwary."

"Farther upriver, the fault line peters out. That is where the enemy tried to break through. They advanced across the river with a large force, but our dismounted troops refused the left flank, bending the line south, which gave our mounted regiments time to move into attack position. They charged the enemy force, taking them by surprise, rolling up their line, slaughtering them with lance and sword. Those new stirrups really proved themselves in that fight."

"Their losses trying to force that formidable line would have defeated their invasion. But we were aiming at more than turning them back. We did not want to face this particular horde again, the next time coming at us strengthened with reinforcements and hankering for revenge. So we designed a battle of annihilation. While you and the Army of the Plains were going at it hammer and tongs, the infantry army forced marched to the north bank."

"Then that relief army, the Entrapment Army I think they are calling it now, hit the enemy from behind, hammer to anvil, achieving total surprise. Pressed from both sides, their outer lines falling back to the main body, their warriors became so bunched together that they couldn't rotate men from the line of contact to rest and recuperate in the rear. As the press of flesh grew greater, they couldn't raise their arms to swing their weapons. Some even suffocated from the sheer crush of bodies. Whereas are forces repeatedly executed a passage of lines, sending fresh formations against their weary warriors and giving our soldiers a rest. I am told the river literally ran red with their blood."

"In the end, they knew their situation was hopeless and stood there stoically, resigned to their fate. We gave no quarter, not even for such patient courage in the face of certain death. Nothing we could do with tens of thousands of prisoners. We don't make slaves of defeated foes or anyone else for that matter, haven't done so for centuries. Nor would their lives have bought us peace, not from our dread foe. He does not reward good deeds."

The twins nodded, adding:

"We scouts did not join the general slaughter ourselves, though we did kill a dozen stragglers who fled into the hills where we were posted overlooking the battlefield. But we can take credit for leading the Entrapment Army from the tunnel exit to their line of departure at the foot of the mountains. I never saw such an impressive body of troops. No offense to horse soldiers, but a huge mass of men on foot, armor shining in the sun, bristling with pointy weapons, and marching in step in close order presents a different aspect than a cavalry army."

"So Merry, I understand how you galloped all the way from the Great Southern Forest to the battle field?" Aodh asked his friend. "Did you really cover the distance in a week?"

The unicorn replied to all of them.

<Yes, I didn't lose time stopping to graze. Instead I ate stores of grain our escort had secretly positioned along the route when we brought Dahl to the Forest. For a unicorn, such a run is comfortably within our capabilities. I knew I had to be at the battle front. My job there was to contact Balan, who was with the war wizard, that it was time to blast open the end of the tunnel. I can reach him with mind speech over very great distances, farther than anyone except another unicorn.>

"Aah" the twins exclaimed. "We wondered how they sent the signal all the way from the river through solid rock to the wizard and the relief army. That is the Entrapment Army. Funny, it is just the six of us who were enrolled in the Army of the Plains, but we marched to battle with the Entrapment Army."

"I believe you have a decoration coming, Karel." Klarendes said. "Or maybe a unit citation. Some sort of recognition, certainly. There you were, just six scouts, alone on the eastern side of the mountains and on the wrong side of ninety-thousand howling barbarians. Yes, I think that deserves recognition. I know it does. I told the army as much, though your service speaks for itself. And if it doesn't speak loud enough, then a word from Balan will rectify that oversight."

"Meanwhile, I must ask you not to speak with those nosey agents, which those new-fangled news sheets have dispatched to "cover" the war. The cheeky fellows have taken to calling themselves "war correspondents". Can you believe it? The first thing their publishers did when word got out about our successful campaign was to complain to the government that their precious war correspondents should have been seconded to the military to get the story first hand. I mean, whatever happened to the concept of operational security?"

"Now they are pressing to interview the commanding generals of the two armies. They say they cannot wait till the Army gets around to issuing a bulletin suitable for public consumption. No they want to come out right away with something called an 'extra', meaning a hasty edition which jumps the queue of their own print schedules!"

Chapter 23. Back to Elysion

A few days later, the Count and his party returned to Elysion, with the twins and their friend Ran on leave, coming along as guests. Balan had relayed his regrets via the unicorn then gone back to the capital to report to the Chief Hand. Merry had started right back to the Forest to rejoin Dahl, grateful that the Battle of the Great Entrapment had given their side a breathing spell long enough to empower the recruits to become full druids.

In Elysion, Ran immediately sparked interest among the village lasses once word got out that the eleven cutie was available and that he liked girls. He stirred their blood with his exotic good looks, traipsing around in the nude, giving all the girls a good look at his, er, attributes. And there were no worries about pregnancy, which was very unlikely from such a joining. The blond boy was, after all, three-quarters elf.

Ran was in his element and finally living up to his stage name, Randy. And who could blame the boy. All the girls knew what they were getting into. They knew he could never be the exclusive partner of any one girl, nor could they expect him to ask a village father for his daughter's hand in marriage. This was all about good clean fun.

He did make room on his busy schedule for the twins, preferring to sleep in their bed rather than overnight with his girlfriends. Just because he was crazy about girls didn't mean he didn't like to fall asleep spooned between the twins. In short, Ran was in paradise, enjoying the best of both worlds. He went around all the time with a goofy grin on his face, provoking smiles from Klarendes' boys and Aodh. Everyone warmed up to him. He was a hard kid not to like.

Certainly Arik thought so too. He had fallen for the elf-boy. Fallen hard. And the object of his affections was so good natured about it. He never teased the love-stricken local boy. He even joined their training in unarmed combat, letting Arik grapple with his nude body, his own hard body laid atop to the smaller boy's petite frame, all the while aching to press his suit home, as it were, to the desired culmination. Arik, for all his hard won skill, was strangely ineffective against the foreign boy. The truth is, he wanted to make love to Ran, not to fight that beautiful boy. In short, Arik had it bad.

Something that was not lost on a trio of boys of meaner dispositions. They teased poor Arik in front of everyone. As one who knew all about heartbreak, Randell couldn't abide anyone taking advantage of a lovesick youth, especially on his account. Soon enough, the unkind boys got their comeuppance. At their next practice, they found themselves soundly thumped one at a time by the new boy in town. After which, Ran dragged Arik into the bushes for a proper shag.

It wasn't just that one time only. The two boys found they got along just fine, both in and out of the sack. Arik showed Ran the carpentry shop where he was apprenticed, speaking knowledgeably about his craft and showing off his work on the finer sort of furniture that was increasingly in demand in the village itself. Anyone could take an axe and chop boards or sticks out of a log for a rough chair. It took a skilled hand working with saw and drill and plane and sandpaper to produce a chair that was itself a work of art. Ran knew little of the craft, but as an elf he knew his wood. He could tell any kind of wood by its color, grain, or smell, then tell you what kind of tree it came from, where it grew, and what it looked like. As everyone knows, an elf-boy is the next thing to a dryad, only male, and not rooted in place.

Soon there were two youths going around with goofy grins.

Karol and Jemsen would have made it three and four, but the grins of the faces of these open and honest lads always looked cheery rather than goofy.

While everyone agreed that Aodh had a charming smile, his grin was another thing entirely -- it was much too predatory. It startled people and made them look for fangs. Then again, what else could one expect from someone half-feline. Esmeralda could have told them as much. She had been charming folks for years with her beguiling cat's smile, but she was well aware that baring the teeth was not the way to go on a charm offensive.

Klarendes' older boy Artor finally did raise the total of boys with goofy grins to three.

With the exuberance of youth, his juices flowing, the now sixteen year old Artor was cutting quite a swath through the young lasses himself. The youth had a lot going for him: good looks, elven blood, a strong physique, wealth, and social position. Thanks to his developing magical gift of fire casting he would impress girls with tricks like lighting the candles in a darkened room with a wave of his hand. Or putting them out for a bit of privacy. Strictly speaking, the gesture was an unnecessary dramatic flourish. Fire casting is an act of will.

These was Artor's salad days which he knew would be brief. He would sail with the wind as long as he could. Soon enough, maybe in a year or two or three, his father would dump the wind out of his sails and make him heave to. That is when he would sit his first-born son down for that talk, the serious one where he reminded his son and heir that it was time to get serious, settle down, to take a wife, and to ensure the succession with his and 'heir and a spare' of his own. Scions of the aristocracy paid for their privileges by a much shorter time to travel, explore, and sow their wild oats.

Now sixteen year old boys don't do serious well at all. What was the hurry with their extended lifespans? If all he had was two or three years, he would make the most of it and take care not to bring his salad days to a premature end. Artor had to be careful lest he get a lass with child. Which was why Artor often used a lambskin sheath. The slight loss of sensitivity and pleasure was more than balanced by the reassurance of protection from premature paternity.

True a healer could terminate a pregnancy easily enough with her magic. But many girls of humble station would chose to carry the bastard child of an aristocrat to term, if only for the material benefits that would accrue. Fathers were expected to provide decently for all their children, whichever side of the blanket they were born on. And that meant taking care of the mothers as well.

Klarendes hoped his son would take a wife from outside the valley, preferably a young lady with elven blood herself, lest Artor find himself a widower by simply outliving a purely human spouse. That was one reason he had sent his sons to Dalnot for a while. He would send them back, once the barbarian threat was put to rest. Till then, there was no place safer this side of the mountains than their secluded valley.

Whatever their differences on which direction to direct their sexual energies, the five leading young males in Elysion shared a disinclination toward clothing. No real surprise in a society without serious nudity taboos anyway, at least for males. Young children and schoolboys were perpetually naked everywhere in the Commonwealth. Many teens and early twenties many never bothered with the genital pouch or loincloth. They were more common in urban areas, perhaps as a way to maintain social distance in such populous and crowded environments.

Besides in the humid tropical climate, nudity was eminently practical. You coped with the heat with nudity, hydration, perspiration, and frequent resort to showers, baths, and swimming holes. For athletics, martial arts training, swimming, and running nudity had been the norm since shortly after the Formation Wars.

With an elf, a wir, two elf-friends, one apprentice carpenter, and the count's own sons as trend-setters, public nudity was confirmed as the default condition in Elysion, except for the older generation, of course.

In one way, that pleased the local females. On the other hand, it made them jealous. They had to wear clothes, human nature being what it was. In childhood, boys do have more fun. Even sex only partly redressed the balance. At least no girl had to keep an unwanted pregnancy. One quick visit to the healer or midwife, solved that problem.

One day Ran left word that he was going for a long walk in the surrounding mountains. They should just hold supper for him. He might be back late. Maybe not till after dawn. In the event he never did show up that day. Late the next morning, the Count and Aodh and the twins went looking for him, tracking his trail by sight or by scent, with the help of the Molossian mastiffs. Soon enough they found the boy halfway up into the mountains, his nude body curled up on leaf litter, with his back to a fallen tree branch, head resting on his hands. A squirrel was perched atop the branch he lay against. It chittered angrily at the searchers before running off.

The dark blond elf-boy was obviously safe and healthy and clean except for the dirt on the soles of his feet and the bottom of his rump, which was spotted with bits of leaf litter. One of the hazards of parking your arse on bare ground. There were twin flashes of blue as the eyes opened and delicate eyebrows arched up in surprise and delight.

"What are you all doing here?" he asked.

"Looking for you, my young friend." replied the count.

"Whatever for? I left word. Surely you did not think I was lost. I am, after all, more than half elf. Hence I am at home in the forest. Besides, you cannot really get lost in Elysion. The valley is a great bowl. Up is toward the outside world, down is toward the flatlands, the village is in the middle."

"Still, that's quite a rough camp you made last night: lying on bare ground, no shelter, no fire, no tools or weapons, and no provisions."

"From your point of view, perhaps. We elves live close to Nature. A rough camp to you, to me I was simply curled up comfortably, slumbering in the bosom of the forest." the elf-boy tossed off with his characteristic insouciance, along with that irresistible grin of his.

He got to his feet and brushed off his ass with his hands, mustering what dignity a short nude youth with bits of leaf litter plastered to his bare butt was capable of in the situation. With a toss of his head he headed downslope toward the manor house.

Far from being cross with the elf-boy's cavalier behavior, Klarendes chuckled at the parallels with his discovery of Aodh just short of a year earlier. The two looked over to one another, realizing that the same thought was in both their minds and smiling, a private moment over the heads of everyone else, for just the two of them. Then again, that was what love brought, wasn't it? Mutual understanding without words.

On the trail back to the manor, Ran ran into Arik who was wearing only his carpenter's apron. The two boys embraced and kissed ignoring the sawdust and wood shavings his sweat had plastered to Arik's otherwise nude body. Then the young carpenter swung the smaller boy around in a circle. They walked hand in hand the rest of the way, talking animatedly. Everyone watching their hard young bodies in motion agreed that they made a fine looking couple.

The next evening after supper, bellies full and feeling at peace with the world, Klarendes and Aodh repaired to the side porch and sat themselves down. They shared a sturdy chair made of flat boards, which was wide enough to fit both comfortably. Off to their right, the setting sun sank toward the horizon, though still above the western mountain range. Its rays slanted under the roof of the porch illuminating the nude boy. His pale skin, which never tanned, served as a canvas for the solar paintbrush.

"Do you know how preternaturally beautiful you look just now, Åodh? Your skin is gleaming with red and orange and yellow hues as if my magic and our love had set you aflame."

"You say the sweetest things, Taitos, quite enough to turn a boy's head." Aodh said, mock-coquettishly.

With his boy nestled against him, the nobleman prepared his pipe for a post prandial smoke. Practiced hands went through the ageless ritual beloved of pipe smokers everywhere, tapping the turned down bowl to empty it of any remaining ash, filling the chamber with the count's special blend, packing the tobacco with the tamper of the well-worn pipe tool handed down by generations of counts of the Eastern March.

No need for tongs to fetch a coal from the fire which was burning in the hearth. With a flourish of his right hand, the count produced a flame at the tip of his index finger and applied it to the tobacco, kindling the pungent mixture instantly. Blowing out the flame on his finger much like a candle, the count puffed away contentedly. Life was good.

Both of them, man and boy found the scent of pipe tobacco to be a pleasant one, reminding them of the incense some of the cults used in their temples. The spicy scent was quite unlike the foul stink of the newfangled rolled smokes called cigarros and cigarillos that, unfortunately, were increasingly popular with smokers. Less fuss and bother was their appeal, the count supposed, though he had always seen that as one of a pipe's attractions. In his mind, the pipe was the smoke of a gentleman. Other smokes were for the working classes. If that made him a tobacco snob, so be it. As an aristocrat born and bred, he came by it honestly.

Once he got his pipe burning properly the count reached out with his magic and morphed puffs of smoke into fantastic shapes: a round tower, the head of a wolf then of a cat.

"I cannot achieve with smoke the detail that I can with flame," Klarendes explained. "Smoke is as much of earth as it is of fire."

Aodh nodded and snuggled against him, utterly content. "This is perfect" he murmured.

"Not quite, but help is on the way." the count pointed as Esmeralda joined them and settled across both their chests and allowed them to stroke and pet her. "Now it is perfect."

The ginger cat didn't have to be psychic to detect the quiet contentment her two humans shared. Being a cat, she took full credit for it.

As for other possible liaisons, Aodh was wholly satisfied with Klarendes. The young wir was not interested in forming new attachments. That said, he always made time for the twins,. He was determined not to let go of his bond with the twins. They had crossed a continent together, stood shoulder to shoulder against evildoers, and had thoroughly enjoyed each other's bodies. Though they were still only eighteen, Aodh could see the kind of men the twins were growing into, and he thoroughly approved.

The nobleman indulged Aodh's continuing liaison with the twins, but he had no interest in a threesome or foursome. For him, there was only Aodh, the second great love his life. If all went well, they would enjoy centuries together, living, learning, and loving. In any event, Klarendes' bed was crowded enough, thank you, with him, his boy, and their ginger cat, who lately had taken to commandeering more than her fair share of their feather bed.

What Esmeralda herself thought of all these goings-on has not been recorded. She had long since learned to be philosophical about her companion species, accepting that they were an impenetrable conundrum.

Chapter 24. Apprentice Druids

After ten months of training, Dahl was finally seeing real progress in the growth of his powers. His physical strength was more than three times what he started with back home. If he thought his stamina was good before, it was nothing like the level he had now attained thanks to expanded lung capacity and greater efficiency in what natural philosophers would call gas exchange in the pockets of the lungs.

The elf-boy's senses had become incredibly acute. He could see as far as an eagle and as well in the dark as a cat. The frequency range and sensitivity of his hearing was also at the level of a feline. It didn't hurt that he could cock his ears toward a sound much like a cat. Then there were his super-fast reflexes.

Training in martial arts and with weapons aimed using drills and repetition to engrave the basics in the apprentice druids' muscle memory. Decades and then centuries training and practice and combat experience would hone their skills to levels far beyond anything mortals could attain in their few years of health and fitness. Now this practice effect was something Dahl had no trouble relating to. Once you thought about things, it was inevitable. Giants aside, senior druids were the most dangerous bipeds on the planet, quite aside from their magic.

On the contemplative front, Dahl had finally internalized all that airy-fairy philosophy the druids had plied him with, coming to understand how they derived their magical energy from a psychic connection with the living world. Druids could commune with all the higher animals, anything above slugs and snails and most insects, which could only be reached as a collectivity, an entire hive, for instance. Also with complex plants, fungi as well as green plants. Lichens and mosses sedges and such were beyond their reach.

Druids could command many of the higher animals to do anything within their nature, which meant, for instance, that they couldn't make an antelope jump off a cliff and try to fly. Green plants responded to them readily as Owain had related in his many war stories in which he commanded vines, creepers, bamboo, brush and trees to great effect. The biggest surprise was that the Great Southern Forest was not just a collection of trees but a sentient entity, psychically alive and self-aware. Like a patron goddess, she protected the druids' home base deep in its interior.

"The story goes that in ages past a tyrant sent a small army brandishing flaming torches to burn the forest to the ground. They marched in, laying about with their torches, igniting brush and younger trees. Suddenly a rainstorm darkened the sky and loosed a deluge which put out the flames. And of that army of more than four thousand men, not a single soldier made it back out alive."

"Wow!" Dahl and Xebrek breathed.

Both trainees could now stimulate the growth of plants though Dahl was better at it. He could raise a pretty good barrier of thorn brake, though with effort. He liked working with vines, using them to snare the unwary four footed denizens of the forest who were his test subjects. Needless to say, he always released them unharmed albeit unhappy about the interruption to their day. It was easy to make amends with herbivores, simply grow them with a snack of their favorite foodstuff, whether sweet alfalfa or tangy melon.

Xebrek excelled in controlling animals, which did not include unicorns, as Merry reminded him with a head butt one day when he was feeling his oats, tried it, and got a rebound headache for his trouble. The dwarf made a special effort at melding with cats and birds so as to perceive through their acute senses. Not that his own were not equally acute, but he could not be in two places at once, see out of the back of his head or go aloft for a bird's eye view of things.

The apprentice druids, for by now they were reckoned to be such, also continued with their physical training. The elf-boy and the dwarf acquitted themselves well against other opponents. The one used his speed and agility, the second relied on sheer strength and a low center of gravity that baffled many opponents. Neither cared to be matched against each other.

"So Dahl, you find yourself confronting a bad guy, a dwarf much like Xebrek here. You are armed with quarterstaff. He carries shield and maul. What do you do?

"Throw the staff at him as a distraction then take to my heels and head for the hills. I am faster since I don't have all that muscle and bone to lug around."

Owain chuckled. "Taking off is exactly what you should do in most cases. But what if you couldn't run?"

Dahl shook his head. "Sorry, but I just don't see any way I can take him. He is just too strong."

"Normally you couldn't. So you have to use cunning. Here let me show you. I am your size, though admittedly twice your strength. But what I am going to show you, you could do yourself."

"No fair strangling me with a vine." Xebrek warned. "Or tripping me up."

"Wouldn't think of it." the senior druid replied with a predatory grin.

Taking Dahl's staff he told Xebrek to guard himself then charged straight at him. The dwarf crouched and set himself, thinking this would be easy. The druid had made the mistake of playing to all the dwarf's strengths. A step or so short of the immobile dwarf, the druid planted the end of the staff and vaulted right over him, landing lightly, whirled, then cracked Xebrek's thick skull with a thrust of the staff, though only hard enough to make his point. He could have laid Xebrek out or bashed his skull in entirely.

"Impressive," the dwarf admitted, "but what if I were expecting that move and turned even as you went over. I could block with my shield, then smash with my maul."

"Good thinking, but my avian sentinels would warn me to maintain my forward motion and put some distance between us."

Xebrek scowled and grumbled. "We agreed, no powers."

"But I didn't use my powers, not against you, not directly. Maintaining situational awareness is another thing entirely. I always have allies covering my back. By now it is second nature."

"Eyes in the back of your head." Dahl nodded his understanding.

Xebrek had to be satisfied with that.

He made a mental note to recruit standing allies of his own. Probably not birds though, not as sentinels. Cats were useful as secret agents but slept or roamed around too much to be reliable sentinels. He asked Dahl about it, who joked that the dwarf should look to moles to watch his back. Very funny. What he needed was ground dwellers he felt an affinity for, creatures of the sun yet who made their burrows or warrens in the earth. Preferably a wide flung species. Ferrets were much like cats, cute and friendly enough but crepuscular in their habits, active only at dawn and dusk. Gophers were active by day and had the helpful habit of stationing sentries at the entrances to their burrows. Xebrek was sure he could work with that. Another good possibility was ground squirrels such as chipmunks and their relatives. The animals were ubiquitous and watched the skies as well as the ground.

The apprentice druids spent the evening quietly digesting supper, reading, and catching up on their correspondence. The Commonwealth mail service did not run all the way out to the Forest, but there were always travelers and merchants willing to carry letters to the next postal office on their itinerary. The twins and Aodh had written three times now, keeping the elf-boy posted on what was happening in their lives.

Dahl was proud of the part his friends had played in the recent war. He was half-ashamed he himself had sat that one out. This new kid Ran sounded like a fine lad, personable, hardworking, and sexy. Dahl would very much like to meet his fellow elf. Ran and the twins were back with their regiment, but all was quiet along the border. Aodh reported that he had never been happier. He made Dahl chortle recounting the antics and misadventures of his fellow feline, Esmeralda, the real mistress of the manor, if the truth were known.

All this was good news, but Dahl realized it was just the calm before the next storm.

Dahl's dalliance with Owain continued apace. The druid was an accomplished lover. With decades of experience under his belt, as it were, he quickly realized that, for all his enthusiasm and recent experience, the elf-boy was untutored in the amatory arts. Any boy, no matter how well self-taught, needed a grounding in anatomy, the psychology of attraction, and love-making technique to really get the most out of sex and to give as much back to his partner. The druid was just the teacher Dahl had not been looking for but really needed. The cute elf-boy had such potential. It was a shame the way simple ignorance was holding him back.

First came the anatomy of the male body especially below the waist. Dahl studied charts then tried simple exercises to increase his awareness of each of the muscles and organs in his nether regions. Most males never think about the specific muscles that control say urination, but you can sense them if you try. Voluntary control of their musculature down there was a first step in becoming a better lover. As for the psychology of attraction, that was as much about flirtation and courting as about physical appearance, important as good looks were. Technique included both foreplay and post-coital behavior. Most males were really poor at the latter, often just dozing off right away.

Of course, theory and book learning could take you only so far. There was nothing like practical exercise to really master a subject. And Dahl had the good fortune to have a past master of the subject as his personal instructor. The senior druid drilled the boy repeatedly in every possible position (pun intended).

Dahl threw himself into his studies enthusiastically. Whether on his knees, on his back, on all fours, or straddling the druid's hips, he went at it with a will. He loved wrestling and grappling with the druid's sweaty body as they made love. For his part, Owain knew all of Dahl's erogenous zones. He knew just where and how to touch the elf-boy to get him aroused. He made it so that both participants enjoyed the ride. They made a fine looking couple, they did, human druid and elf-boy apprentice.

With so few druids available, Dahl's mentor was always being called away to deal with crises. Perhaps it was just as well that the two youthful lovers spent some time apart. It gave them breathing room. They spent so much time together as master and apprentice, teacher and student. In any event, Dahl had time to spend with the friends he had made locally, especially Xebrek.

It was strange how well the two of them had hit it off, given how different their backgrounds were. Elves live in sunlight, naked, in the warmth, in the bosom of nature, tending to green things. Dwarves live underground, in a cool even chilly environment, a dimly lit world of stone and went about clothed. At forty, the dwarf was twice Dahl's age. Once he got past Xebrek's natural reserve, Dahl realized that the dwarf had a good heart but was cautious in extending friendship to those not of his race.

Dwarves, or dwarrows as they called themselves in their own tongue, knew that many of those who dwelt in the sun were jealous of the riches his folk drew from the earth under territories they themselves claimed, on the surface at least. These people convinced themselves that those riches rightfully belonged to themselves. Dwarves were supposed by the credulous to have hoards of gold, silver, orichalcum, and precious gems hidden away in their chthonian depths.

No one ever explained why these same hardworking dwarves, shrewd bargainers and businessmen, did not spend some of that wealth to improve their often hardscrabble lives. The truth is, any wealth the dwarves had came from their own hard work and ingenuity, not from some treasure trove. Why would dwarves hoard rare metals and precious gems, which were of little practical use, and not exchange them for things of real value with any surface dwellers foolish enough to prize such baubles?

Dahl also saw a good deal of Merry, at least when the unicorn wasn't away on a mission. Then when he got back from whatever it was he was doing, he was just as close-mouthed as the druid. Something was cooking, but what? Dahl had heard snippets of conversation about a project to construct or rather to grow a defensive barrier north of the Forest, but whatever was going one was all very hush-hush.

He was gratified with the development of his own physical powers. Thanks to his increased strength and stamina, Dahl found he could keep up with the unicorn on their distance runs, as long as his single-horned friend kept the pace down to a canter. With a gallop, forget about it.

The frequent assignations of the elf-boy and his unicorn friend took place in a specially constructed stall, sited off by itself amid plantings of sweet smelling flowering shrubs. The elf-boy laid himself down on a padded "filly rack" which ensured his comfort and safety during sexual congress with a species so different from his own in body form. The rack supported his weight on his hip bones and his shoulders, allowing him to breathe freely while being covered by his equine lover. Hand grips and footrests provided a way not only to hang on, but to better control the positioning of his body as the unicorn thrust into him. The floor of the stall was padded in one corner to spare the elf-boy's knees when giving oral service.

Dahl thoroughly enjoyed sex with the unicorn. Merry's body was so large and so much stronger than his own puny elf-boy physique. That appealed to the elf-boy's need to submit, to being the passive partner, to allow himself to be penetrated by a male member of larger than usual proportions, which stimulated him to his own orgasm even as the equine filled the boy with his magical juices. For their part, the equine loved the special bond that only elf-boys can forge with a unicorn. Just the sight of his buttocks proffered as the boy lay stretched out on the filly rack set aroused his lust. Those firm round buns and the delightful crevice between drew them, aroused them, and inspired him.

It was the best sex imaginable for the unicorn, once an elf-boy himself, to make it with a pretty little elf-boy like Dahlderon.

[Continued in Part 6]

Author's Note

If you have enjoyed this story and others like it, consider making a donation to the Nifty Archive. It is so easy. They take credit cards.

This is my first pure fantasy tale for the Nifty Archive. It is entirely fictional, with no resemblance intended to any person living or dead.

Readers who like these stories might want to try my two series 'Daphne Boy' and 'Naked Prey' in the Gay/Historical section of the Archive. My 'Jungle Boy' series of Hollywood tales is posted in the Gay/Authoritarian section. The new series 'Andrew Jackson High relates the trials and tribulations of five of its gay students. For links to these and other stories, look on the list of Prolific Authors on the Archive.

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