Date: Sat, 28 Sep 2013 09:12:21 -0400
From: George Gauthier <georgegauthierdc@gmail.com>
Subject: Elf-Boy and Friends 3

				Elf Boy and Friends
				Part 3 of 10
 				by George Gauthier

			Chapter 10. Quiet Time

At the port city of Asheron the good ship Isobel reached the terminus of
her run down the upper river. There the travelers had to transfer to a
larger riverboat to navigate the lower river. Balan booked passage on a
vessel sailing in three days' time. The layover gave them all a chance
stretch their legs on dry land and to visit the picturesque town.

For the unicorn and his elf-boy the first thing on their agenda was a long
overdue run in the countryside. The pair ran in the open country beyond the
boundary stones that marked the limits of the urban area. Town law kept
left the countryside open and unbuilt over, reserving it for truck farms,
dairy operations, feedlots, horse farms, woodlots, and the
like. Well-maintained farm-to-market roads crisscrossed the rural lands,
many stretches lined with shade trees.

Equines and humans alike are natural runners, each admirably adapted to run
long distances, whether on four legs or two. The elongated limbs of equines
leverage the power of their shoulder muscles and haunches. In humans and
related races, the S curve of the spine allows for a fully upright posture,
placing the trunk and center of gravity directly over the hips and
legs. Unlike in quadrupeds, the shoulders of bipeds are wider than their
hips so that the swinging or pumping of the arms counterbalances the torque
that the legs apply to the torso, keeping the body moving forward in a
straight line.

Also both species perspire freely to cope with the heat produced by
prolonged exertion. In addition, Dahl had reached such a level of fitness
that his body could shed heat by vasodilation, the expansion of the blood
vessels under the skin, which transferred heat directly to the air flowing
past him, lessening his need to sweat, and protecting him from dehydration.

Since both their species had evolved for running, it was no surprise how
much both the elf-boy and the unicorn loved a good long run, each in its
own way. Equines traditionally run to escape predators. Running meant
survival and freedom from fear. That was true for early humans and elves
too, but only up to a point. Humans are hunters and predators much more
than they were ever prey, so for them running evokes the thrill of the
hunt. Elves shared the evolutionary history of humans before wizards
intervened to create that race.

Running gave Dahl the chance to test his limits, to exult in his youthful
strength and stamina, and to assert his masculinity and physicality. Anyway
he loved running for its own sake, His strides would take up the hypnotic
rhythm of the long distance runner, scissoring metronomically as they
carried him along, accompanied by the steady beat of his feet as they
slapped the earth, eventually inducing that state of day dreaming and
euphoria that moderns call the runners' high. Very therapeutic for one's
mental equilibrium.

He also ran for the sheer physical pleasure of it, taking in great lungfuls
of air with the expansion and contraction of his rib cage, pumping his arms
to maintain balance, pushing off with the rear leg hard enough that he
actually flew through the air very briefly before his front foot touched
the ground. Dahl was light on his feet. He could run with his soles making
only a light slapping sound as they virtually kissed the ground.  That was
certainly not true of Merry. When the unicorn ran, there was no mistaking
the drumbeat of his hooves or the clop of a slow walk.

The elf-boy loved the way the wind whipped his mane about, framing his face
and brushing his shoulders. It made him feel wild and wanton like a filly
in heat out for a mating run with her stallion. Then there was the heat of
the sun on his back and bare bum, which reminded him how very naked he was,
a nude boy totally on display for anyone to see and to admire and hopefully
lust after, like those cute farm lads who had waved to him as he ran
past. Dahl was honest enough with himself to recognize his own vanity and
exhibitionism.  He liked any excuse to show off his trim athletic body with
its lines flowing cleanly from shoulder to hip to ankle without the visual
interruption of garments.

Their mind speech allowed the two runners to carry on a conversation
without wasting breath. Given their different physical capabilities the
elf-boy didn't even try to keep up the stallion. Instead Merry looped the
boy, racing ahead a ways only to stop, turn around then run back completely
past him only to spin around once more and catch the boy up. Merry loved to
watch the boy running all out. His trim little body was never so alive,
except during sex, with his arms pumping away, shoulder blades sliding back
and forth, slender legs scissoring, not to mention the twitching and
dimpling of his adorable butt cheeks. Merry claimed that running behind
Dahl let him draft the front runner. Dahl just snorted at the notion that
his own small body could create much of a draft for his much larger
companion. Still it was better when Merry ran behind or to the side,
sparing him from eating the unicorn's dust.

Two days later, after their final run, their stay ashore over, Merry and
Dahl made their way up the gangway aboard the riverboat Myrrh, a vessel
more than twice the size of the Isabel. When Dahl rejoined his friends on
the promenade he found the giant Balan patiently answering yet another of
an endless series of questions from those twin chatterboxes Jemsen and
Karel. Not that the giant minded. Nothing gave Balan more pleasure than an
excuse to launch into professorial mode. One of the chief delights of the
twins was their intelligence. They were not just a pair of pretty faces.

"Balan, you seem to know everything." Jemsen asked. "Why are all the cities
on the river sited just north of a swamp? Every single one. That cannot be
accidental."

"It is not. Those swamps are artificial wetlands, built as part of their
sanitary systems. Sewers in cities and towns never drain directly into the
river, lest, in time, the river itself become one big sewer itself.  Only
storm drains carrying clean runoff feed into the river directly. To deal
with sewerage each city selects a low lying area to its south or constructs
one if necessary, then plants suitable grasses and sedges. Once the
greenery is well along engineers flood the tract to create a
self-sustaining wetland to which the city pipes its sanitary effluent. The
wetland acts as a natural waste treatment facility. Dirty water flows
almost imperceptibly down the gentle grade southwards, threading the reeds
and grasses. Along the way natural processes purify and sweeten
it. Collection canals then shunt the cleaned water back into the river. All
done by gravity without pumps and with minimal human intervention."

"Ingenious!"

"And all of it accomplished not with magic but with the knowledge and
skills of the natural philosophers and engineers who devised the system in
the first place, centuries ago. That and good governance that saw to the
maintenance of the system over time."

His lecture finished, Balan left in search of a cool lager.

Aodh picked up the news sheet that the giant had left behind on his seat
and caught up with events in the two weeks since the last issue. The latest
innovation, these news sheets were woodblock texts printed on a single
sheet of the cheapest paper, using the same technique employed to print
playing cards and wallpaper. Drawing on two inventions, block printing and
cheap paper made from wood pulp, news sheets had met with immediate public
acceptance. No more having to stand in a crowd in the town square to crane
a look at the single handwritten newsletter posted for public consumption
or listen to someone reciting the text aloud, not necessarily that of a
story you were interested in. News sheets had a circulation much larger
than the number of copies sold. Each copy was passed from hand to hand till
it fell apart. Already there was talk of expanding them to four pages in a
folio format, with advertisements for extra revenue.

From what Aodh read, it seems the eastern barbarians were troublesome once
again, raiding, killing, stealing livestock and carrying off every kind of
portable wealth including captives destined for slavery. Speculation had it
that the Commonwealth army would soon send out a punitive expedition, a
reminder to the truculent tribes to keep to their side of the border.

"Bastards." the wir-boy couldn't help saying aloud.

"Who you talking about?" Jemsen asked.

"The eastern barbarians. More raids over the border to seize farm animals,
harvests, and valuables from honest folk. They kill the men and rape the
women, and leave their children to starve. It is a rite of passage for
them, taking a head is a proof of manhood. Some farmer goes out to the
fields in the morning; his wife or his kid later finds him dead, minus his
head. Ghastly."

Just then Luxor. the ship's cat, clambered onto Aodh's lap then settled
herself around his shoulders while he continued to read the next article
about the latest political scandal. A svelte shorthair three years old,
Luxor seldom paid attention to any of the passengers she encountered on her
voyages, but here was one worth seeking out. Though the young wir never
transformed while aboard ship, Luxor knew him for a kindred soul and sought
his company, even sleeping in his bed at night, her light body draped
across his ankles or snuggled up on his pillow. Ignoring ship's rules, the
young minstrel smuggled choice bits from the dinner table to set out for
his whiskered friend before retiring.

Meanwhile, the blond twins slid their deck chairs under a gauze canopy
which gave just enough shade to blunt the fierce blaze of the sun. That and
the steady head wind made the oppressive tropical heat bearable, though not
enough to stop their sweating. Jemsen chatted desultorily with his brother
till he realized that Karel had nodded off, making for a very one-sided
conversation. After unsuccessfully trying to doze himself, he settled for
watching the ever changing shapes of the puffy white clouds above, all the
while stealing glances at the beautiful body lying next to him.

And such a lovely human body it was, the twin of his own: tanned, toned,
taut -- all sculpted musculature: strong shoulders, well defined abdominal
muscles, and narrow hips. No hair interrupted the flow of its faultless
lines.

Jemsen was gratified that Karel's genitals (and his own) didn't have that
shriveled look so many guys had. His cock was smooth not all gnarly with
twisting veins. His genital organs were reasonably sized though he wouldn't
be scaring the horses. It took both of his small hands to cover an
erection, but only one when it was soft. That was just fine for a boy given
to running across the countryside bare ass naked with his dangly bits
jouncing about.

From his chair beside Karel Jemsen watched droplets of sweat form on the
smooth tanned skin, each drop glistening in the sunlight like a tiny
diamond. Growing larger, the droplets broke the surface tension that had
held them in place and slid downhill, merging and collecting in rivulets in
the channel between the pectorals and at the bottom of the hollow between
his rib cage and hips.

The older twin sat up and swung himself around to face his sibling,
reaching out to play with the sweat pooling in his twin's navel, tracing a
circle with his index finger on that flat belly, finally bringing a taste
of the salty fluid to his tongue. Next he pressed a spot on one side of
Karel's belly to let the pool of sweat drain down his hip, only to watch
the hollow slowly fill up again. This time he did not spill any of the
salty fluid but lapped it up from his brother-lover's navel then kissed
away beads of sweat on forehead, cheeks, and the tip of the nose, ending
with a light kiss to each of Karel's nipples.

Dahl's cock tingled as he watched the languorous foreplay. He resisted the
urge to reach down and stroke himself. He wished the other twin would wake
up, but Karel dozed on oblivious of his brother's homage to his sex
appeal. Dahl looked fondly at the twins. Is there anything more beautiful
than a seventeen year old boy in the bloom of youth? And here there were
two of them, identical twins. Jemsen and Karel were not only brothers, but
also lovers, comrades in arms, and each other's best friend. He only hoped
they both survived the dangers that undoubtedly lay ahead. They were so
close, he didn't see how either twin could live on after the loss of the
other.

That got the elf-boy thinking about mortality. He cast his unspoken
thoughts to Merry. Dahl could now initiate contact, though as yet only with
the unicorn.

<Listen, Merry, I was thinking. What a shame it is about the other
boys. Magical creatures likes us: elves, unicorns, and giants, we have such
long lives. Or will, assuming we win our fight against the Darkness. The
twins don't have that to look forward to. Here they are, so very young,
just starting out in life really, youthful and vital. Yet all too soon Aodh
and the twins will age, lose their physical beauty, as they decline into
old age and death. Surely they deserve better than that, considering the
risks they all have undertaken to save the world.>

<Don't be concerned for Aodh, Dahl. He too is a magical creature and is
effectively immortal and eternally youthful. In his case it works this
way. When a being with a dual nature morphs from one shape to another his
innate magic heals all wounds and cures any sickness, using the wir's own
mental template of his physical state and health at a particular point in
his life. Each transformation brings him back to that point, that
particular age and state of well-being. So his transformations restore his
youth, health, and beauty. Aodh will live indefinitely, staying forever
young, until something drastic happens to him.>

<All right, I get it. Aodh and I will look sixteen indefinitely, but the
twins will age from boys a few months short of eighteen, as they are now,
to arthritic grey beards.>

<Perhaps not. When you come into your full powers as a druid, you may be
able to extend their youth and their lives. Don't mention that to them
though and raise false hopes. Also do not speak of it to the senior druids
till you have proven yourself. Time then to call in favors.>

Their silent colloquy was interrupted by a rain shower. This time the
downpour was cool rather than cold and fell without hail. The four twinks
got to their feet, smiling at the welcome interruption. They raised their
faces and their arms to nature's cleansing and cooling rains, letting the
rain drum on their heads and chests. The refreshing waters flowing down
their sides and their bellies, dividing around the prows of their proud
cocks, sluicing down their cleavages. The youths joined hands and circled
clockwise as if in a dance, all the while looked up at the rain clouds,
blinking away the drops that fell onto their faces and plastered the hair
to their heads.

For that moment they were just four happy youngsters without a care in the
world or even the sense to come in out of the rain, like naughty boys
taking perverse delight in deliberately stomping their way through a puddle
rather than going around it, much to their mothers' consternation and
dismay. Well mothers may grumble but isn't a certain degree of
obstreperousness a boy's birthright?

Demure is for girls.

				Chapter 11. Soldiers

Also aboard the riverboat Myrrh was a contingent of soldiers on their way
to postings along the southeastern frontier. Trained as signalmen, they
would join units scattered over the frontier to bolster communications
between legionary fortresses, patrol bases and far flung observation
posts. Along the way they kept in practice using their flags and solar
telegraphs to signal naval vessels on the river and military installations
along the banks.

The newly minted soldiers mostly kept to themselves, not much interested in
mixing with the other passengers. Their standoffishness didn't mean that
the soldiers did not have their eye on a certain lovely elf-boy as he ran
around the ship stark naked, stirring the blood of anyone who fancies young
males, these soldiers included. Unseasoned by combat, poorly supervised,
and under lax discipline, they soon turned to mischief.

The third evening out Merry made his way to the lower deck to visit
Merry. As he walked past the cargo compartment where the soldiers were
quartered the door slid open and strong arms grabbed him and dragged him
inside, shoving him into the middle of a crowd of a dozen soldiers. Their
commander was a sergeant, a man of only middle height but powerfully built,
with close-cropped dark hair and and grey eyes. He sized up his captive, a
hungry look in his eyes and a predatory smile on his face.

"Well, well, well. Is this a young demigod I see before me, incarnate in
the guise of a beguiling and bewitchingly beautiful teenage boy?"

"Actually, sir. I am an elf-boy and certainly no demigod."

"Alas, Corporal Saxburn," the sergeant said with mock regret to the soldier
standing next to him. "This vision of youthful male pulchritude is merely a
mortal boy after all, albeit an exceedingly comely one."

"I agree, Llando, I peg him for a rich man's catamite, or maybe a
professional joy boy. And one who likes his work, the way he wiggles his
arse all the time on deck."

Dahl shook his head. He got that reaction a lot. Gracile and delicate
looking and comelier than is seemly in a young male, he was no one's idea
of masculinity. One glance at his slight build and impossibly pretty
features and macho males like these soldiers marked him down as the worst
sort of bum boy. Not just a servant or slave constrained to pleasure a
master but a natural submissive who preferred the role of catamite or boy
toy.

"Sirs, I will have you know that I am a free boy and serve no master. All
right, I might have worked as a pleasure boy in the past, but always as a
free agent. Anyway, those days are behind me."

"Oh Ho!" Corporal Saxburn chortled. "This lad is fair game after all. Let's
have at him!"

Sergeant Llando look at Dahl almost apologetically, explaining.

"He is right, youngling. You candor does you credit, but now Saxburn and my
men will have their way with you, after all. I am afraid I must let my men
take their pleasure of you. The fact is that we have no reason to exercise
restraint in your case. You are one of the lowly and powerless in this
world -- just a small nude boy who has fallen into our clutches.

"Ironically it would be different if you weren't a public boy, meaning
everyone's boy. If you were a man's private property, a slave with a master
or a kept boy or a catamite, then we would be violating another man's
property rights. In this world of ours, the privilege of fucking public
boys who cross our path is one of the unofficial perquisites of soldiers on
active duty."

"All of which is to say that your virtue is not at stake. There is no
reason then why we should not all mount you. It is just that simple."

"Besides, this situation is in no small part your own doing, shameless boy
that you are. As a free boy it was your choice to run around stark
naked. What are assertive males like us to think when we find a public boy
like you at loose ends, your entire body on display for our
delectation. Here you are so terribly cute and sexy with that impossibly
pretty face and tight body and a pert rump that twitches fetchingly as you
move about. And yet you pretend to shrink from the natural use that men
make of boys of your sort. Well we know how to deal with cock teaser
tactics like that."

"Soldiers of the Commonwealth, this wayward youth needs instruction in good
manners. And you are the men to give it to him. So take him as you will,
but remember, no rough stuff. The elf-boy here is just a little guy, so
don't all pile on at once. Instead take turns, no more than two at a time."

"Two at a time?" Dahl squeaked.

"One at each orifice, of course. We don't have all evening."

Dahl's temper kicked in just then. The hell with that kind of thinking. If
he couldn't talk his way of this jam pretty damned soon, he was going to
send for the cavalry. No way he was going to put up with another rape, and
a gang bang at that. One telepathic shout to Merry would bring his friends
running.

Dahl resented the outrageous assertion that this situation was largely his
own fault, a fate that he had brought upon myself by his perpetual public
nudity and enticing physical beauty. The charge amounted to nothing more
than a tissue of rationalization for what they really wanted with him.

He had not deliberately teased the soldiers, no more than anyone else
aboard. As for being cute and sexy, that was as nature had made
him. Nothing was the result of artifice or primping or posturing -- no
cosmetics, no jewelry, no suggestive clothing -- just good clean boy -- and
the pheromones that healthy elf-boys exude quite naturally.

"This is so wrong!" the elf-boy declared emphatically. "Rape is rape,
whatever the excuse, and I won't put up with it. Get outta my way."

But the soldiers blocked his attempted exit. Dahl back pedaled far enough
to give himself room and dropped into a fighting stance, looking to somehow
force his way into the clear.

Shaking his head the sergeant continued his discourse in a calm and even
tone.

"You have grit, kid. I'll give you that, but no way one small naked youth
can overcome a dozen professional soldiers. If we have to, we will bind
you, but things will go easier if you submit to your fate. Anyway, a
brothel boy like you should realize the futility of resistance. We are not
going to do to you anything more than so many others have done in the
past."

"Go to hell," Dahl shot back. Why couldn't they just leave him alone. He
didn't want this.

The scowl on his face did nothing to discourage his suitors. If anything,
it encouraged them.

"My oh my, he looks so pretty when he gets mad, standing there stiff
legged, fists clenched, eyes flashing. Yum yum."

"Aye and trembling, but is it from fear, from anger, or from lust?"

"Heh, heh. I don't care which. Anyway, I like my boys with a bit of fight
in them. So be reasonable, little elf-boy, and give it us or do we really
have to do this the hard way?"

Dahl shook his head, wanting to fight but realizing that resistance was
useless against so many. He lowered his fists

All right, he had tried to handle this himself, to talk himself out of
trouble. Time to call Merry for help. So he did. The unicorn relayed his
mayday to their friends. Meanwhile Dahl played along, to stall for time. He
stood meekly, head hung, arms loose and at his sides as the sergeant felt
him up with the sure touch of an expert in gauging boy flesh. The sergeant
twirled his finger, the signal for Dahl to turn around slowly to give the
men a good look to his back and his bum.

"Yes, little one. You are exactly what I fancy best. Yours is very much the
hard body of the young male, not the soft round voluptuous body of the
female. Hmm, such a slender boy too, yet your musculature is well-defined,
with a corrugated belly and good shoulders. Yours is one of those tight
builds that is more about quality than quantity. Like an acrobat or a maybe
a dancer."

The sergeant then turned his attention to Dahl's face, cupping the chin in
his strong right hand, rubbing the jaw line with his thumb and inserting
his thumb into his mouth, the boy's cue to suck on the digit much as he
would suck on a cock.

The frank sex talk and foreplay had its effect on Dahl. His pulse raced as
blood rushed to his groin. With his ball sac pulled tight to the fork of
his legs, his engorged cock jutted straight out, the purpled glans like an
arrowhead fixed at the end of the shaft, drawing approving murmurs from the
soldiers. They knew a well trained fuck toy when they saw one.

"Here now, little one, I want you to turn and present your ass to me,
spread your legs, bend over, and grab your ankles."

Dahl scowled but did as he was commanded, presenting his ass for their
use. Sergeant Llando started off with a chuckle and a smart slap to his
rump then reached between his legs and tugged on the ball sac, using his
other hand to stroke the turgid cock like a farmer milks the teat of a
cow. Willy-nilly Dahl's body responded to the stimulation. After a bit, the
sergeant hooked his thumbs into the anal ring and pulled it open, letting
his men get a look at Dahl's secret delights.

"Ah, what an ass we have here: sun-bronzed on the outside, but pink and
moist inside. I can't wait to plumb its depths."

Dahl blushed. Was there no end to the personal indignities the men would
visit upon him?

Just then Balan and the others burst through the door, eyes blazing and
weapons in hand, ready for mayhem.

"Release that boy!" the giant thundered, punctuating his command with a
loud whack with his staff to the deck. The twins flanked him, their kukris
held crosswise across their bodies. The minstrel in panther form leaped
atop a table, unsheathed his claws, laid his ears back, and snarled
menacingly at the soldiers.

With his men unarmed and in various stages of undress, the sergeant
motioned for his men to release the elf-boy.

"All right, all right. No reason to spill blood. There's your precious
elf-boy, safe and sound and none the worse for wear. Though I really don't
know what you need him for when you already have those stunning blond
twins. And keep that nasty cat off us, will you? We're not looking for a
fight, though as soldiers we might give you good one."

"Not hardly." the giant answered coldly.

"Oh don't get so high and mighty with us. We are within our rights diddling
any bum boy we find who is at loose ends. You have no authority over us. We
answer only to our own officers."

Holding his right hand up and triggering a small magic, Balan let them seem
the outline of a hand glowing in his palm."

"Soldier, everyone answers to a Hand of the Commonwealth."

The sergeant blanched, suddenly afraid. The Hands were the chief
trouble-shooters for the Commonwealth. As plenipotentiary agents of the
state, their authority could override that of any civil official or
military officer. The Hands were accountable for the actions only to the
Chief Hand and the Ruling Council. They were reputed to be incorruptible,
deadly, and decisive in removing any threat to the well-being of the state,
whether it be a spy, a corrupt governor or a crime lord. No one cared to
cross a Hand.

"You are a sorry excuse for a sergeant in the Commonwealth Army as I will
be reporting to your commanding officer." Balan told the sergeant as he
turned to escort the angry and shaken elf-boy to their quarters on the
upper deck.

Dahl stayed angry for the longest time.

"Why couldn't they just take no for an answer? This is my body; it belongs
to me. I'll decide who gets to play with it. Instead they treated me like a
slave boy, a chattel rather than a person, a boy without any rights,
without any claim to my own body. To them, all of us elf-boys are
insatiable sluts, bum boys just panting for some man to use us, or better
several men at once. They saw me as their rightful prey: small and
powerless, naked and unarmed. Damn them!"

"I would have fought my way into the clear but there were too many of
them. Two or three I might handle thanks to the skills Balan and Aodh have
taught me, but not a dozen. Nothing for it but to submit."

Balan nodded.

"Fighting is easy. In time a man learns something much harder -- when not
to fight, when to ignore his hot blood and to listen to his head. An
important step toward manhood. More power to you Dahl."

Merry took a try at comforting the distraught boy.

<When you come into your druid powers, no man will be able to rape you, not
when, with a thought, you can render him impotent, temporarily or even
permanently.>

<Really!>

<The magic of Druids comes from the energy in all living things including,
indeed especially, the generative faculties. And that is only one
example. You will be able to kill a man just by stopping his heart, though
that will exact a toll, using life magic for death. Most Druids avoid
killing directly with magic, setting plants and animals against their foes
or the elements like wind or rain or ice. If necessary druids use weapons
that do not draw blood like the quarter staff you have trained
with. Remember Druids, even small ones, have strength three or four times
their size would indicate. The life magic also gives Druids control over
animals. For instance, a druid might compel a herd of brontotheres to
charge his foes, goring and trampling them to death.>

<I had no idea.>

Dahl looked to the young minstrel for support. You must know how I feel,
Aodh. It's probably happened to you too. We are much the same aren't we,
Aodh: slight of build and much too pretty for our own good."

The minstrel said nothing, keeping his own counsel though he did not agree
at all with the elf-boy. True, superficially they were much alike, but Dahl
was an elf. Feisty though he might be, he was still a pretty boy with a
gentle soul and next thing to a vegetarian. Little wonder that a drunken
gambler or randy soldiers would ignore his rights.

It was different for Aodh. As a wir-panther, Aodh was a human boy with the
heart of a predator. More than once he had simply stared down men who
thought to force him to serve. Often all it took was one look into his
strange cat-eyes, slightly aslant above high cheekbones, to turn aside
unwanted advances. The men might not quite realize why, but suddenly rape
didn't seem like such a good idea. Put simply, Aodh was not and did not
look like a victim. Dahl did.

Even without druidic powers Aodh had ways to discourage rapists. If he
couldn't talk his way out of trouble or intimidate them with his eerie
looks, then he could count on his skills in the martial arts to discourage
overly aggressive suitors. Failing that, anyone who tried to force him
would find that Aodh's claws could render a man impotent pretty damn
quickly and pretty damn permanently.

<So, Balandur,> Merry sent, <You are a Hand of the Commonwealth, are you?
You never said so, though I always suspected it. I take it then that your
joining us when you did was not entirely fortuitous?>

"No. Did you unicorns really think the Commonwealth wouldn't notice your
unusual activity. Our Watchers in divers lands reported that elf-boys and
males of other races in company with unicorns and wizards were on the march
from all points of the compass, traveling toward the Great Southern
Forest. What could that be but an effort by the Druids there to bring in
recruits to replenish their diminished numbers. When my Chief realized what
was afoot he sent me to lend a hand, pun intended. And similarly with the
other pairs."

"So, the Commonwealth has spies in foreign lands." Jemsen asked.

"Watchers not spies. Our Watchers are not into cloak and dagger. Their job
is surveillance. They are men and not a few women who keep their eyes and
ears open for the unusual and report what they see along with any loose
talk they chance to overhear. They operate quite separately from us Hands."

"You Hands cannot all be giants." Karel ventured.

"Correct. Most of us are human. Understand we number only a score or
so. No, we Hands pose as merchants and soldiers of fortune, itinerant
priests and pilgrims, tinkers and circus folk, just about anyone with an
excuse to travel about inconspicuously. Some occasionally pose as
minstrels."

<We were lucky they sent you to us, old friend.>

Everyone nodded. The giant had been a pillar of strength and a good friend.

				Chapter 12. Aodh's Tryst

After a march of ten days across the flat country of the Long River Plain
the road they were on reached the foothills of the mountains that bordered
the eastern side of the great rift valley. The weary travelers took
lodgings in the town of Bled. The site of an army garrison, Bled was the
last settlement of any real size within the Commonwealth proper.

A town of some ten thousand, it sat at the terminus of the east-west road
they had taken, having crossed two similarly constructed wide roads running
north and south, spaced one-third and two-thirds of the way from the river
to the mountains. Together with lateral roads along both sides of the
river, these routes form a grid of roadways that served both commerce and
the needs of the government including the military and the postal service.

Each right-of-way was really two roadways in one. One was a carriage-way
paved with flat stones which served horses shod in iron, whether mounts and
draft animals. The heavy infantry of the regular army also marched on the
pavement in their sturdy hob-nailed sandals. Travelers who went barefoot or
in soft foot gear took the other walkway, its firm but resilient surface
was designed for them and for the unshod feet of oxen, aurochs, and
camels. The top level of that roadway was a composite made of sawdust and
bitumen. compressed and heated, then laid in squares over the same
substrate as the stone paved roadway alongside.

In Bled, Aodh took temporary leave of his friends. They would follow the
narrow mountain road as it wound its way eastward. The minstrel would go by
a direct route cross country, traveling in his panther form. It had been
quite a while since he had spent more than a short time as a beast. So it
was time his soul answered the call of the wild.

He left his scant belongings with his friends. They would care for his
mandolin and purse while he set out unencumbered. The guards at the town
gate thought that it was foolish for a small youth to set out all alone
across the mountains, unclothed, unshod, unarmed, and un-provisioned.

"A bare ass run thru the countryside for exercise is one thing, son, but
setting off across the mountains on a journey of many days is quite
another. A pretty little thing like you, striking off on his own, nothing
to hand in the way of supplies or weapons and starkers to boot? Are you
daft?

"Thank you for your concern, sirs, but as hard as it might be to believe, I
really do know what I am doing."

The guards sincerely hoped so. It would be a shame for something to happen
to such a nice looking kid. The lad had such an air of innocence he didn't
look like he could take care of himself. More like the kind of boy who
ought to be under the protection of a rich patron, a man who would
appreciate what a mouthwatering morsel he was.

As for the mountains, though they lay within the boundaries of the
Commonwealth and were exploited commercially, the eastern range was rugged
and wild territory, with steep slopes blanketed by tangled forests, prime
habitat for wolves and bears and occasionally outlaws and slavers. Just
recently several youths had disappeared, vanishing without a trace. Though
the Constabulary patrolled the mountains, the lawmen mostly kept to the
trails linking the various outposts of civilization to the outside world:
logging camps, mines, water mills, and summer resorts.

So Aodh set off alone, morphing into panther form as soon as he was beyond
the belt of farms that fed the town. He was eager to make his first kill
but careful to spare the farmers. Soon enough he chanced upon an unwary
antelope, no one's livestock then. The hunt was rather perfunctory, he
merely crept up from downwind and pounced. Not much fight in a creature
that weak, though for a predator the size of Aodh, the animal made a
satisfying meal, especially since he ate all of it except bones and horns
and head. Most folks think cats eat just the flesh of their prey, but they
also savor organ meats, and the half-digested contents of the stomachs of
ruminants are a kind of salad course.

The mountains were rugged and steeply sloped to the west but easy to
descend traveling east. Aodh kept out of sight during the crossing,
avoiding contact with humans. True he could easily assume human form, but
then he would have had to explain his presence. Besides, the whole point of
the journey was to live wild for a time, to prowl the forest like the
predator he was, to get back in touch with his killer instincts as he
stalked, pounced, and dispatched prey. Aodh was in his element, once again
the hunter at the top of the food chain.

Afters days of such travel, just after crossing the divide, Aodh stumbled
across a secluded valley, a lovely green bowl about eight miles across,
ringed by mountains and closed off by vertiginous cliffs on the east. The
dark green of the forested slopes was broken here and there by lighter
areas of clear cut areas. Sheep meadows and vineyards on the lower slopes
gave way to flatlands with pastures, orchards, grain fields, kitchen
gardens, and other works of man.

The valley held a single settlement in the center, a sizable village, one
large enough to call a town, with a manor house hard by. With dark falling,
Aodh realized he would not reach the settlement till after nightfall,
definitely not a propitious time for strangers to come calling. He would
have to spend one more night roughing it. So he found a comfy spot, made a
grassy bed, and lay down, changing into human form to sleep. It was cooler
that way, sleeping in bare skin instead of fur.

Which was how the owner of the manor, a youthful nobleman named Klarendes
found him the next morning. Klarendes was checking out reports from loggers
that a black panther had been spotted prowling the mountains. His three
giant Molossian mastiffs had found upon the scent trail the boy had left
while in his feline form. Expecting a wild cat, the nobleman carried a boar
spear held at the ready. To his astonishment he found a youth of surpassing
beauty fast asleep on a bed of grass.

Lying on his right side with his head pillowed on his arms and his legs
drawn up, his nude body resembled nothing so much as that of a cat curled
in slumber. Then the boy turned in his sleep, rolling onto his back, arms
outstretched, legs splayed, giving an unobstructed view of his front: from
his angelic face to a glabrous chest and belly down to a shapely cock
painfully erect with morning wood. It cantilevered from a hairless groin
over a flat belly, the engorged shaft rising and falling ever so slightly
with the beat of his heart. His ball sac was equally hairless and pulled
tight into his groin, allowing a view of a shadowed cleavage.

Klarendes nearly swooned at the revelation of such sensual beauty, a
combination of the innocent and the wanton, the epitome of a boy in the
full bloom of his youth, vitality, and virility. Small in stature, skinny,
and smooth muscled, comely as an angel, with a skin like porcelain, and
looking utterly fragile and vulnerable, the impossibly pretty youth aroused
both the lust and the protective instincts of the lean-bodied nobleman.

Here was a boy so beautiful he took your breath away. In an instant
Klarendes found himself praying to his gods that this would be the boy he
had been hoping to meet for most of his adult life, a lover and a companion
who would ease his loneliness. Since the untimely death of his beloved wife
in a fall from her horse, he had been bereft. Their arranged marriage had
blossomed into a real love match and produced two sons to carry on the
bloodline.

After her death, Klarendes had indulged himself with dalliances with local
youth. Yet he had never found any of the local lads more than a temporary
diversion. Cute, yes; fun in bed, definitely, but immature and rather empty
upstairs. Klarendes yearned for a boy who would be as much a friend and
companion as a lover.

He wondered what this vision of youthful male pulchritude was doing in his
hunting grounds. Only one road led into the hidden valley and that road
came from the east through the cliffs, not the west. And why had the boy
set up such a primitive camp, if you could call it that, no shelter, no
fire, no tools or weapons, and no provisions. Just the boy himself.

As for his nudity, nothing remarkable there except he was a long distance
traveler. On their home ground many a village youth never bothered with
clothing, not even a thong or a genital pouch much less a loincloth. Those
were regarded as no more than sissified affectations for up-tight city
slickers. For rural folk, neither anatomy nor sex held any mysteries. Going
naked was eminently practical in the oppressive heat. Besides it let
assertive young fellows show off the trim taut bodies they had so recently
grown into, whether to rivals or potential lovers of both genders. Nor were
these youths ashamed to present to the world the manly parts which brought
them so much pleasure.

Demure was for girls.

Klarendes noticed movement under the boy's closed eyelids, a sign that he
was dreaming, what Klarendes hoped was an erotic dream of a boy consorting
with a handsome and virile man. He himself would very much like to be the
man of this boy's dreams.

While Klarendes hesitated, reluctant to awaken the youthful beauty lying
before him, his mastiffs, more direct in such matters than thunderstruck
human males, started licking the boy's genitals by way of greeting. At his
nether regions, one tongue licked his shaft, rubbing and and
arousing. Another slipped into his crevice, probing the cleft, reaching
toward the subtlety scented rosebud in its depths.

The oral stimulation had an effect, bringing him to orgasm just as a third
tongue licking at his face brought him to awareness. The boy's cock shot a
rope of gism out of the slit, ejaculating in a graceful arc that
intercepted his face and belly. Taken by surprise, the dogs took a step
back.

As for Aodh, he suddenly found himself awake, supine, his limbs splayed
out, surrounded by three gigantic mastiffs, his engorged cock shooting his
seed again and again, while a handsome stranger in a sleeveless tunic with
a boar spear in hand watched with interest. Caught out in the throes of
passion, the boy could manage were incoherent utterances:

"Uuh, ugh, ugh."

Klarendes grinned, unable to resist the urge to tease this lovely boy a
bit.

"Good morning, young master. Rest easy about my mastiffs, they mean you no
harm. Go ahead and finish what you started, though once you have, er,
collected yourself, I will thank you to tell me, as the lord of this
domain, why you are trespassing on my lands."

Poor Aodh was mortified, caught out during an orgasm, his limbs splayed
out, face and chest and belly splashed by his ejaculate. His whole body
colored, turning his skin from porcelain-white to blush pink, which only
added to his intense embarrassment. While the boy gathered his befuddled
wits, Klarendes went to one knee at his side and wiped a taste of the boy's
gism off his belly, bringing it to his tongue.

"Ah! salty and sweet with a soupcon of male musk. Here taste some for
yourself," he said, proffering a gob to the boy.

It seemed only natural for Aodh to lick the finger. He had always liked the
taste of cum, his own as much as anyone else's. Klarendes followed this up
by slipping the finger between the boy's lips, inviting him to suck it. In
the warm afterglow of his orgasm, the boy readily complied with the
unspoken order. Nor did he offer any objection as the man's other hand
grasped his softening cock and milked it gently, thumb rubbing the sweet
spot under the head, making Aodh shudder and moan with a delicious pain
radiating from his groin.

"Pardon me if I seem forward, youngling, a stranger touching you so
intimately, but I simply cannot resist your charms. You are the prettiest
and the sexiest boy I have ever laid eyes on."

With a smile he added:

"That wouldn't be the first time you heard those words?"

"No. You are right, sir. Actually, false modesty aside, I get that rather a
lot from handsome men such as yourself."

"And you like hearing it, don't you?"

Aodh colored even more. He simply nodded, unable to speak, as the man's
hands continued to roam. The friendly dogs surged forward, tails wagging,
yipping excitedly. Aodh fell back, laughing at the absurd situation he had
awakened to.

"So who gets my bum first, you or this frisky fellow here" he said, patting
the lead dog's head.

"That's the attitude, youngling. My name is Taitos Klarendes, and these are
my canine friends Cantor, Laegul, and Fardel. As for your question, rest
easy. No one's bum is in play unless freely offered. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough! I am called Aodh, by the way. It's spelled A-O-D-H."

"Is it? Really? How strange!"

Right then and there Aodh learned one thing about him, that Klarendes had
something in common with his friend Karel: an exaggerated regard for
phonetic orthography. The two new-met males laughed when Aodh explained why
he had chuckled to hear Klarendes utter the same complaint Karel had
proffered so often. It helped break the ice between them.

The older male extended his hand to pull the boy to his feet, pleased with
the strong and manly grip of the diminutive youngster. The kid might be on
the tiny side, but he was no weakling, with a toned musculature moving
under a taut skin.

Aodh turned down the noble's offer to ride double explaining that no equine
could tolerate the touch of a cat, even in human form. His revelation about
his status as a wir-creature did answer Klarendes questions about the scent
trail and why the boy had spent the night on a bed of grass. Well tonight
he would sink into a feather bed with clean sheets. Hopefully that would be
Klarendes' own bed.

The duo arrived at the manor at midday, just in time for dinner, always the
most substantial meal of the day among country folk. (Supper was typically
a light meal of cold meats, cheese, sliced bread, and dried fruits for
dessert.) Much as he liked his deer meat raw when in panther form, Aodh had
to admit that, in human form at least, there was a lot to be said for
venison simmered as a savory stew with all the right vegetables and
spices. Bread hot out of the oven slathered with butter and a tangy salad,
all washed down with chilled ale, completed the simple but filling bill of
fare.

Partly it was the fascinating company, partly simple hunger, but it had
been a long time since Aodh had eaten so well or enjoyed a meal more. The
two talked that day for hours. Klarendes was a charmer, an engaging
conversationalist, well read and widely traveled as a younger man. He
didn't have to work very hard to charm the boy into his bed that night and
those that followed.

The pair were a study in contrasts, the boy small, skinny, hairless, and
impossibly pretty, a sloe-eyed beauty with delicate features, the man much
taller, lean and muscular, manly with masculine good looks without facial
hair. Though actually in his early thirties Klarendes had not aged since
his mid-twenties, thanks to the strong strain of elf-blood in his
ancestry. Klarendes stood a head taller than the diminutive were-boy, but
that still put him at only middling height for humans.

In bed the nobleman found himself with a real wildcat on his hands. As a
lover the boy was exciting, energetic, athletic, physical, and vocal. Good
thing for the thick walls. Klarendes relished the way his wiry minstrel boy
squirmed in his arms, twisting and straining that tight body of his. Slick
as he was with sweat, it made it hard to maintain a grip on Aodh as he
threw the boy onto his belly or flipped him over onto his back. Grabbing
the boy's ankles, the man opened the slender legs like a wishbone to ready
him for an assault on his boy hole. Driven by Klarendes' powerful hip
muscles, the man's cock thrust into the welcoming orifice which grasped his
member with its moist velvet walls. The count relished the sensation as he
slid his cock in and out, sometimes nearly withdrawing entirely only to
thrust back up to the hilt.

From long experience Klarendes knew just how to arouse sexually submissive
boys like Aodh.  You didn't want him to just lie there and let you fuck
him. You wanted your boy to put up a bit of fight and make the dominant
partner work at it to maintain control. And you wanted to make him laugh
and cry, moan and whimper, beg and resist, all the while the boy knew in
his heart that he desperately wanted the man to work his will, to make him
do all manner of naughty things, sexual things.

Fortunately the boy's stiff prick made a good control handle, and the
shaggy thatch atop his head afforded a good grip too when it was time for
the boy to provide oral service. Gosh he looked so cute down there,
kneeling between the nobleman's legs, pouty lips closed over his shaft,
sucking and slurping, circling the glans with the tip of his tongue, doing
everything in his power to drive the man wild with his buccal
ministrations.

The youth readily submitted to the nobleman whose commanding presence had
electrified him from the start. At one point Aodh shifted his attentions to
the man's balls, kissing and licking and sucking them, finally managing to
get both of them into his mouth at the same time, cheeks packed, eyes
bulging. The sight set Klarendes laughing, which drew a puzzled frown to
the boy's pretty face. The man hastened to explain his amusement.

"Forgive me for laughing, young Aodh, but kneeling down there, cheeks
bulging and eyes crossed, you look like nothing so much as a demented
chipmunk!"

Aodh released him and joined in the laughter. Aodh just hoped the folks
back home never learned that a powerful wir-panther like himself had ever
been tagged with the name of a creature so low on the food chain as a
chipmunk. At least the tiny critters were omnivores -- opportunistic
predators in their own small way, so junior colleagues of a sort.

			Chapter 13. Elysian Fields

The next day Klarendes gave the boy the grand tour of his domain, sketching
the history of Elysion by way of explanation for the obvious harmony and
prosperity he saw all around in the happy faces of children off to school,
the cleanliness, vigor and robust good health of the yeoman, and the
respect the locals had for the nobleman. No one shot the man a resentful
look behind his back. They genuinely liked and respected him.

Aodh learned that Klarendes ranked as a count, the latest scion in a second
of two dynasties ruling these lands going back eight centuries. The first
count in his own line had succeeded to the title after the last of the
former dynasty were killed during the Formation Wars. His ancestors had
managed to sire enough sons or daughters to keep it going, despite low
fertility from the large admixture of elf-blood in their ancestry. Happily,
Klarendes himself had two teenage sons, currently fostered with his late
wife's family in a nearby town to acquire some cultural polish.

Everything within the mountain ring was his property save the village
itself and the arable lands immediately around it: fields, orchards,
pastures, and hay fields. Every farmer was a yeoman freeholder with his own
acres. The other villagers were free men working in shop or smithy or
tavern or were in the direct employ of the domain itself at fair wages. It
had been that way for generations. The counts no longer exacted feudal
dues. Their income came from exploiting the lands they personally owned
which lay beyond the farms and included the timberlands and sheepfolds in
the mountains, the well-tended vineyards on the hilly slopes, a small
silver mine, and the scenic waterfall, site of a popular resort. The count
also drew an income from his considerable real estate interests in nearby
towns.

Like everyone else the counts paid local taxes levied by a council of
elders for the upkeep of roads and bridges, for the provision of public
services, and the maintenance of the fortifications at the head of the
gorge that lead to the outside world. The village could boast a grammar
school cum lending library, an infirmary with a diplomate healer, an
herbalist, and two midwives on staff, and a chapel which served those who
desired to worship their gods in public or collectively rather than at
household shrines. Klarendes second steward managed their day to day
affairs. (His chief steward managed the count's personal domain.)

"Not that we are self-sufficient here, Aodh, though we do raise practically
all our own food. We still must import manufactures of all sorts, spices,
exotic woods, and books, though we pay for all that not from the proceeds
of the sale of crops but from ventures like the honeymoon resort at our
scenic waterfall, a lucrative trade in amber, aromatic gums, and medicinal
plants collected from the forests, and especially the silver work we turn
out in the shape of buckles, buttons, broaches, bracelets, rings, and the
like. High value, low weight, so much easier to ship than bulk cargoes like
grain or fruit or ore."

They walked past a grassy area where a group of maybe forty youths and
younger men practiced martial arts. Most of them trained naked though a few
wore thongs or pouches.  Whether tall or short, slight of build or heavy
boned, the young males all had lean muscular bodies, tanned bronze by the
tropic sun. One of the bolder lads glanced from the count to the minstrel
and threw the latter a wink. A big fellow in back stared at Aodh's
unclothed body with naked hunger.

Aodh watched their practice critically for a while then commented that
their moves were much too staged, more like the boys were rehearsing dance
steps than practicing moves to defeat a foe. One of the older youths, a
brawny sandy haired fellow, bristled at that and asked sarcastically:

"All right, kid. Why don't you show us what you would do?"

Aodh shrugged off the resulting rumble of assent. He knew he was being
tested and was sure he would have the last laugh.

"OK, big fella. Let's square off, just you and me."

"The name's Arik. How about we make it interesting? If I beat you, I get to
spank that cute ass of yours right in front of everyone, then drag you into
the bushes for a proper shag."

"And if I win, we shake hands and become fast friends."

After a moment's hesitation over this unorthodox forfeit, the older boy
nodded then took up his stance. When they grappled he confidently went on
the offensive, but Aodh countered his every move, twisting out of his grip
then, with a sudden effort, sent the bigger boy flying. Scrambling to his
feet, Arik approached his opponent with greater caution. Their second
grapple had them both trying for joint locks. It looked like Arik might
succeed but Aodh broke his concentration by kissing Arik full on the
lips. As the astonished boy loosened his hold, Aodh turned the tables. Arik
was well and truly pinned and had to conceded the match.

"I can't believe I lost. I never for a moment thought that a little slip of
a kid like you could ever..."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Arik. Actually your moves were pretty
good. You almost had me there till I tricked you with that kiss. What I
said earlier wasn't a personal criticism of anyone's abilities, just that
your training practice was too staged, your moves too
choreographed. Everyone was leaning into the throws that put them on the
ground to make their falls gentler. And another thing, you guys pair off
with others the same size and weight. You gotta mix it up. Opponents come
in all shapes and sizes.

"Always keep in mind that in a friendly fight, say against a romantic rival
or in a taproom brawl, you want to prevail but not hurt the other guy
bad. He's your friend and neighbor. In combat against soldiers, highwaymen,
robbers and street thugs, restraint would be misplaced. When you fight for
your life, that is no time for halfway measures."

"Finally, while I think you all look great running around naked, your
opponents will be wearing clothes and maybe armor. Learn how to cope with
that. Grab their tunics and straps and belts and baldrics for handholds and
control the fight. And learn how to counter close-in weapons like the knife
or hatchet just long enough to get away."

Arik frowned for a moment then said:

"What about swords, spears, or quarterstaffs?"

"If you are talking about a fight, one on one, then forget about
it. Against a long weapon, a bare handed fighter has next to no
chance. Best you can do then is to run or hide. If you are already caught
up in a melee, with those from both sides all mixed up, then some of these
techniques might help you long enough to grab a proper weapon and lay
about."

Arik nodded and smiled wryly at the candid and eminently practical advice,
then offered his hand in friendship to the newcomer, drawing approving
smiles all around for his sportsmanship. Afterwards, the minstrel and
nobleman resumed their walk.

"Did Arik actually do as well as you said?"

"Not really, but he wasn't bad either. Like all you bigger guys, he
overcommits and gets off balance without quite realizing it. I could have
made Arik look really bad, but to what purpose? I don't want to make
enemies of him or his friends. And he does have potential. Maybe with the
right teachers, like those I had, and a few years.."

"How long have you been at it?"

"Ten years. No eleven. I started when I was six. I turn seventeen next
tendi. Martial arts are part of our heritage, my people I mean, like the
high percentage of wirs among us.

"So you are nearly full grown now? And yet so petite."

"For me this is it. I am all that I will ever be. Wir-humans mature faster
than pure humans. I reached full height at fifteen then filled out a bit
the following year. I am never going to get any bigger or any older. I will
always be sweet sixteen. That's part of my template. Anyway, to change the
subject, why do your people call you captain instead of lord?"

"That is a courtesy title from my youth when I served in the armed
forces. Also I am the elected captain of both the militia and the volunteer
fire brigade. In these more egalitarian times, it has a better ring to
it. Captain is a title I earned for myself, not simply an accident of
birth. Though I do employ my full titles on formal occasions such as when I
don my sash of office and take the bench in court to sit in judgment. There
I am in my persona as, ahem, 'The Honorable Taitos Klarendes, Chief
District Magistrate, Dispenser of the Middle Justice and the Low,
Lord-Zamindar of Elysion, and Count of the Eastern March.'"

"That's a real mouthful!" Aodh laughed.

"Isn't it though?" Klarendes agreed chuckling. "Titles and offices are
deliberately grandiose. As a prominent legal scholar once put it: 'The
dispensation of justice requires an imposing solemnity of setting and
procedure and a commensurate orotundity of speech and of prose.'"

"Another mouthful!" the minstrel giggled, looking up at his lover with a
big smile.

Klarendes hugged the boy, whose cheery personality warmed his heart. He
realized how quickly he had grown attached to young Aodh. But how to
persuade him to stay?

Even a clueless youth would have sensed this good man's loneliness and his
obvious hope to have Aodh stay with him permanently as his lover. The
minstrel was strongly attracted to the handsome nobleman. And Elysion
looked like a fine place to live. Still, he really did have places to go
and friends to meet and things to do.

No one more than Klarendes understood the call of duty, but he could not
hide his intense disappointment. Nothing for it then but to make what they
could of the next few days. Aodh was well ahead of schedule. His friends
had walked the long way around, following the easy grades of the military
road that threaded its way through the mountains. The couple could look
forward to four more days together at Elysion plus two more on the road to
Aodh's intended rendezvous. Klarendes would escort his young guest to that
rendezvous in the very town where his sons were fostered.

For both of them it was the happiest week of their lives, a honeymoon in
all but name.

			Chapter 14. Parting of the Ways

"Come on in, the water's fine! Oh, sorry Aodh, I forgot. Kitty cats don't
like to get wet!" Klarendes teased the boy while he sculled along easily in
the cool waters of the lake.

"The hell they don't!" Aodh replied, executing a shallow dive that left
barely a ripple on the surface. Popping up just once to orient himself, he
ducked back below the surface and approached his naked prey under
water. Klarendes was taken by surprise as his lover dragged him down
briefly before letting him back up for air. As the boy floated on his back
the nobleman remarked:

"I had no idea you could swim so well."

"There is a lot you don't know about cats." Aodh answered, then told him
what he had told Karel about how panthers and jaguars hunt and play in the
water.

The secluded inlet they had chosen for their swim was one of many such
inlets and coves along the convoluted shore of the small lake. Fed by the
waterfall, the lake emptied into the white water creek that flowed down the
gorge past the fortified checkpoint grandly called the "Stone Castle" and
so out to the wider world.

The lovers had stopped by the honeymoon resort one morning, not to stay but
simply to visit the scenic wonder of the region. With the pride of
proprietorship Klarendes boasted that the waterfall drew newly married
couples from far and wide. Little wonder, for the cascade shot from a slot
atop a vertical cliff then descended in a stepped cataract to fill a deep
pool at the bottom. The spray and mist of the falling waters formed what
was called the Bridal Veil.

But it was its rainbows that made the site a meteorological wonderland. On
sunny days the mist formed a double spray rainbow arching over the pool
plus a third rainbow reflected from the lake surface. At night the spray
formed a single white moon-bow. And under the right conditions, large
fogbows would appear, a ghostly backdrop for the nearby henge of standing
stones left by some vanished civilization.

The nobleman's travel lecture was just winding down, when young Aodh's
stomach growled loudly. Before the hungry boy could even ask, the nobleman
pointed to one of the resort staff hustling to their location carrying a
large picnic basket and blanket. A cute red-head wearing only a white kilt
wrapped around his hips, the youngling greeted the naked lovers, spread the
ground sheet next to where Klarendes had left his tunic, and set out a
scrumptious picnic lunch, explaining that it was with the compliments of
the management. Then he left them alone.

The hungry duo chowed down as they let the warm sun dry them off. The
nobleman explained that at the resort, city customs prevailed for
meals. The big meal of the day was served late in the evening. Somewhat
confusingly it was called dinner rather than supper. The midday meal was a
light repast called luncheon or just lunch. To span the long gap between
sit-down meals, beverages and finger foods were set out in late afternoon.

"I asked the boy to return here with a canoe. We can paddle our way to the
end of the lake and tour the Stone Castle".

When it came time to embark, the nobleman motioned the boy to clamber in
first, expecting he would upset the tricky craft and dunk himself into the
lake. A harmless trick; Aodh was naked anyway and knew how to swim. The
young minstrel smiled slyly, knowing what game was afoot. Putting a hand on
either gunwale he set a foot in the exact center and settled in smartly. As
Klarendes joined him, Aodh mentioned, ever so casually, that canoeing was
one of his favorite past times back home as well as his usual means of
traversing the Lake Lands.

At first sight the Stone Castle was a disappointment, a stone-built barrier
twenty feet high with and archway through it barred by three
gates. Actually it was far stronger than it looked at first glance. An
attacker would have to force the three gates one after the other, his men
bunched up under murder holes the whole time.

Even as they tried to force the gates, their follow-on forces would be
subject to merciless missile fire from in front and from both sides. The
fortification extended over the river. Downstream it was flanked by
galleries cut into the living rock from which slingers and crossbowmen
could rain down lead bullets and quarrels, turning the last stretch of road
before the gate into a killing ground. The small garrison would hold long
enough for the village militia to form up and dispatch reinforcements.

"It looks pretty formidable, sir." Aodh ventured.

"Yes but only up to a point. Fortifications can be taken by storm, by
siege, by stealth, or by treachery. A fortification might fall to stealthy
warriors who took out the night watch. Or raiders might pose as traders or
a wedding party and seize the gates before they could be closed. No, the
Stone Castle is useful enough but hardly impregnable."

"And if it falls?"

"We either meet the enemy in open battle in the fields or fort up in the
village. As you may have noticed, the village is situated atop a knoll
where a streams splits in twain and flows entirely around, then rejoins
below."

"So the village is a fortress on a hill on an island behind a moat."

"Not really a fortress, but the houses are sturdy enough, all stone or
timber and stone construction with tile roofs, hence very hard to set on
fire. Behind barred doors and shuttered windows, both men and women would
be armed with repeating crossbows and shoot through loopholes and
embrasures. Or we could march out to give battle, the grown men armed with
war axes and shields. Boys down to thirteen are armed with slings and long
knives."

"Axes? Why not swords?"

"Why not swords? Not really practical. Too costly for one thing. Swords are
made entirely from steel, which is expensive. Too hard to replace
too. Sword making is a highly specialized task, beyond the skill of your
average blacksmith. And it can take many days to forge a single sword
blade, with the smith continually heating, folding, and hammering the bar
stock into a blade. No, swords are for regular soldiers. We are just a
rural militia."

"Why then the axe? An axehead is mostly iron. Only the edge is steel and
the handle is a wooden stick, so it is cheap and quick and easy to
make. Besides the men of the valley practically grow up with an axe in one
hand and a hatchet in the other, used for timbering, chopping fire wood,
building houses and barns, constructing fences, and even making rude
furniture. The learning curve for a war axe is very short, since it relies
on the same muscle memory. The same reasoning applies to arming our young
males with the sling and long knife. Boys use their slings to keep the
rabbit population down. As for crossbows, anyone can master the crossbow
with minimal training whereas an archer armed with a long bow must train
all his years to stay proficient."

"I am impressed by your knowledge of military matters, Taitos."

"Well I did serve in the forces during the last big push by barbarian
raiders fifteen years ago, when I was about your age. I eventually rose to
the rank of captain."

"Is that when you got that burn scar on your hip and leg?"

The man hesitated before answering. Deciding he would not keep secrets from
this boy he loved, he continued.

"Yes, my own fault really. It happened when I lost control. You see, my
magical gift is casting fire, either as a flaming stream or as great balls
of fire. Normally I'd just set fire to tents or wagons or supplies, that
sort of thing. Sometimes I created barriers to movement on the battlefield,
firing a section of prairie or torching a stretch of forest. I did not
target the enemy directly, not wishing to use magic expressly to kill."

"Then came my third battle, which we were losing badly. All of us were
bone-weary from days of marching and two earlier fights. I myself was
bleeding from a nasty cut to my shield arm which made it hard for me to
protect my left side. Then the enemy attacked in overwhelming
numbers. Friends and neighbors fell all around me, butchered and mutilated
by a merciless foe. It seemed we must all soon be slaughtered. What then
would become of our families in the valley?

Guarding my injured side was my best friend at the time, the blacksmith's
son. Ahndray was my first love and one of the sweetest boys you would ever
meet. All right, maybe what we had was puppy love, young as we were, but it
burned fiercely. That all ended when a hairy barbarian with a two-handed
sword shattered his skull, spraying brains and blood and bone chips all
over me, my armor, my face.

That final horror set off the eruption of emotion that had been building
for days, a psychic storm made up of pain and fear, grief and rage, numbing
fatigue and loss of hope, but it was the death and desecration of my lover
that finally drove me into a killing frenzy. Screaming my anguish I
unleashed my will on the barbarian horde itself, setting on fire the tall
grass they stood in, igniting their clothes, their greased hair, and the
leather coverings of their wooden shields. Their own armor trapped the
flames against the skin.  I stalked back and forth like a fire demon,
casting great balls of fire or burning streams of flame, laughing and
cackling and hooting, utterly deranged, as the flames consumed the
barbarians amid horrid screams and cries for mercy. But I had no mercy in
my heart that day. I still don't, not for them, though I do have regrets,
especially about the pleasure I felt in killing them."

"The psychic backlash nearly killed me. I swooned and fell, oblivious to
the advancing conflagration. Someone on our side dragged me from the flames
to safety. When I came to, my madness had passed. I lay there and looked
back at what I had wrought. So many dead bodies but hardly recognizable as
human. You see, cloth and hair act like wicks for the body fat that melts
from flesh. I had turned living men into human candlesticks. All that was
left were piles of disarticulated bones burned black."

"The worst part of all this was the cost to my soul. I had taken an almost
orgasmic pleasure in burning the barbarians. In recollection, I felt
unclean, unworthy of having survived. At first I despised myself for going
all kill crazy like that, but later I came to realize that it was really
their fault. From then on I hated them not only for their own crimes but
also for making me do what I had done. I still offer incense yearly to the
memory of my fallen comrades and beg the forgiveness of the gods, if they
exist, for my own failings."

If the man expected the boy to recoil from him in horror, he was
wrong. Aodh's face was filled with compassion and respect for the sacrifice
Taitos had made to save his people. Here was yet another reason to love
this good man. Aodh embraced his lover and held him for the longest time as
the nobleman wept for a lost love and fallen friends as well as from shame
and loss of innocence.

The next day saw the lovers set out on a hunt for a pack of wolves seen
recently near the sheep meadows. Aodh was nervous about whether the
mastiffs, so friendly to him in his human form, would accept him as a
panther. He was encouraged by the fact that the dogs had no trouble with
the count's ginger cat Esmeralda who was forever clambering over them,
licking their faces, and snuggling against them for a snooze. So the dogs
were locked in their kennel as the boy transformed before them. He need not
have worried. The mastiffs recognized their friend even in his new form and
greeted him with friendly yips. So they all set off together to hunt
wolves.

As luck would have it, the wolves saw them coming and escaped over the
mountains. The hounds marked tree trunks at the limits of the count's
domain, a boundary the wolves were likely not to cross. Which was fine by
the count. His only concern was their potential threat to his lambs and
other stock. The wolves were welcome to hunt the forests on the other side
of the boundary line. So Klarendes called off the hunt, explaining that
there was no need to pursue the wolves beyond the boundaries of his domain

Klarendes had made an exception a month before to track down a pair of dire
wolves that were the terror of the region. Never one to underestimate a
foe, Klarendes had set off with all five of his Molossian mastiffs. The
bones later found strewn around their lair showed they were responsible for
the recent disappearances of youths who had unwarily gone into the forest
on their own. The mastiffs drove the dire wolves into their den and kept
them penned up till Klarendes rode up and cast fire into the den, killing
the mating pair and their half-grown cubs.

"We got them just in time, before the cubs joined their parents in the
hunt. A full pack of dire wolves would have been more than my mastiffs
could handle. To corner them I would have had to raise the militia."

In the evening, they relaxed in front of the fieldstone hearth where a
hardwood fire burned merrily, one set not for its heat, which was
definitely not needed in that climate, but for the beauty of the flames
themselves. Not for nothing was the count a fire caster. Many an evening he
sat for an hour or so, a snifter of fine brandy to hand, staring into the
flames, and sometimes making them dance to his will and form a portrait of
his wife or fantastic shapes of wolves and warriors and slender boys.

Nestled in Klarendes lap the young minstrel sang love songs while strumming
a left-handed mandolin borrowed from Klarendes; it had belonged to his
wife. As the boy played, the nobleman petted him, stroking his hair,
kissing a bare shoulder, or nuzzling the nape of his neck, taking in the
heady scent of a healthy boy. One thing led to another, and they left off
making music to make love right there in Klarendes den, sprawled atop a
bearskin rug in front of the fieldstone hearth.

Aodh laid back spreadeagled and vulnerable, an offering to the
gods. Klarendes held him down by the wrists and leaned forward for a deep
kiss. The boy arched his back and spread his legs to give the man access to
every orifice and crevice of his body. Klarendes bent forward to tongue and
nibble at the minstrel's sensitive nipples. Kneeling between the boy's
slender limbs, he rubbed his hands on the glabrous skin, appreciating that
a boy's flesh feels so much better without body hair. By now the column of
the boy's penis was fully swollen and erect. Klarendes had to be careful
not to set him off prematurely.

Aodh drew his knees up and apart to give his lover better access to his
butt and hole. Soon Klarendes was applying oil to the anal whorl and to the
sphincter beyond. Aodh was the kind of sex partner Klarendes craved:
complaisant and submissive in foreplay, wild and out of control as the
hormones raged through his teenage body. He propped the boy's legs up on
his shoulders and put the head of his cock at the hole. The minstrel boy
looked up at him imploringly, eager to be taken. Here was the sort of man
he craved: powerful, forceful, and commanding yet gentle too. As for Aodh,
young as he was and only two years past the loss of his virginity, he knew
that he was the sort of boy who was born to be fucked hard and often and by
men who knew how. And how much better it was with a man he loved.

All the while the dancing flames of a low fire painted their bare skins
yellow and red and gold while creating interesting effects of light and
shadow on their entwined limbs. Afterwards they lay together in sleepy
post-orgasmic lassitude, watching the flickering flames, and murmuring
sweet nothings.

Just then Klarendes' ginger cat Esmeralda padded into the den to check out
the newcomer to the household. She was a bit cross that the count had
neglected her of late, even barring her from his bed chamber, while he
carried on behind closed doors with this new friend of his. Esmeralda felt
that, at four years old, she had a prior claim on the count's affections,
and it was high time she reasserted it and got him to pay proper attention
to her and her needs. Besides, she was curious about the interloper.

The cat clambered up onto Aodh's chest and sniffed him. The boy grinned and
stroked her head lightly then held up his hand, which she licked
attentively, almost like grooming one of her own paws. Then the feline's
cold wet nose touched his own followed by her pink raspy tongue licking his
face. Finding him a strange but not unpleasant combination of human and
feline, she deemed him worthy of her company and began kneading his
chest. She purred loudly, head lowered, looking intent, claws sliding in
and out of their sheaths as she worked her front paws back and forth just
as she had done as a kitten when she wanted her mother to let her
nurse. Now mama cats have thick fur on their bellies. Naked boys have only
thin skin, which is easily scratched. Grimacing gamely, Aodh tolerated the
minor pain her claws inflicted, knowing that she would soon desist and
settle down.

Which she did. Looking ever so content and pleased with herself, Esmeralda
lay down on the boy's breast and tucked her front paws under her chest. Her
tail curled around her body and across her front. With her eyes closed to
slits she continued to purr, though more softly. The man and boy looked
over at each other and smiled.

It was a tender moment they would long remember.

From then on, Esmeralda considered Aodh to be one of her regular attendant
humans, with all the obligations attached to that role. She required this
select few among the two legs, her real human friends, to attend to her
needs for attention, affection, entertainment, and sustenance. For
instance, when she was in a playful mood, she expected her humans to pull
on a string and drag a cloth mouse across the floor for her to pounce on
and ravage with fangs and claws, or to provide her with catnip for a
genuine feline high.

Nor could they neglect her twice daily feedings. It was not enough to
simply fill her bowl and walk away and let her eat. No, no, no. Meal times
were social occasions and just about the most important times in her
day. As she hunkered down on all fours and nibbled her chow, she expected
whoever fed her to kneel down next to her and stroke her gently all the
while, much like her mama had licked her fur when she nursed. In turn,
Esmeralda would purr away during her meals, knowing how much that softened
the hearts of the two legs. From time to time, she would look up for
reassurance. Those feeding her soon learned that she expected both tactile
and verbal encouragement, so they started murmuring phrases like: "Eat your
chow, little one" or "That tastes good doesn't it, girl?" or "Nothing is
too good for our Esmeralda."

Two days later they set out for Aodh's rendezvous with his friends, the boy
still totally nude even for this visit to town. He set a good walking pace,
explaining that his human form was better when he wanted to cover
distance. Felines were stalk and pounce predators; they did not chase and
run down their prey like canines. The nobleman wore a silk tunic and mostly
rode, though he dismounted and walked beside his lover from time to time.

Their route lead them past the Stone Castle, through the gorge, and out
onto the plains. Unlike the domain of the nomads to the west, the locals
there were a settled folk, ranchers and farmers and townsmen. The pair
followed a well maintained dirt road to the town of Dalnot, the garrison
town appointed for the rendezvous. It was much like the other towns of the
plains except for the sprawling army base on its outskirts. Largely
unfortified, its security was ensured by wide flung picket lines and
observation towers equipped with solar telegraphs, plus the sheer size of
the garrison, five thousand at least, and that was being reinforced, mostly
with cavalry.

Not just a march-land or buffer zone, the entire stretch of prairie, which
ran parallel to the mountains with an average width of about nine days'
walk, was considered an integral part of the Commonwealth. The writ of the
Commonwealth ran right up the foot of the dissected plateau to the east
from which the barbarians emerged periodically to lay waste to civilized
lands. It was only the grass, hay, and grain produced by the plains
dwellers that let the Commonwealth maintain such a large garrison beyond
the great rift valley and its parallel mountain ranges.

At the inn where they were quartered, the minstrel embraced Dahl and the
blond twins in a group hug telling them he had so much he wanted to share
with them. Aodh introduced all three boys to Klarendes who noted that the
young minstrel had told him much about their adventures crossing the
continent. Now he could put faces to their names. And see for himself how
very cute and sexy the other boys were. The twins preened under the
praise. Dahl noticed, caught Aodh's gaze, and rolled his eyes.

No need to introduce Balan. Back at the manor, when Aodh had mentioned his
name, Klarendes had told the minstrel that he and the giant were old
friends.

Aodh's interlocutors listened as the excited boy told them of his
adventures crossing the mountains, the scenic wonders of the hidden valley,
the Stone Castle, their aborted hunt for wolves, and of Klarendes' recent
success against the dire wolves. They chuckled when he related the
embarrassing circumstances of his first meeting Klarendes. The young
minstrel's friends smiled indulgently, knowing they were listening to a boy
in love. Well he could have done much worse than Klarendes. The nobleman
was youthful, good looking, and rich.

Balan then explained that their plans had to change. The unrest among the
barbarians made the route they had planned to take unsafe. Any small party
traveling that road, which skirted the plateau, might be
overwhelmed. Instead, and under his authority as a Hand, the army would
escort them to the safety of the Great Forest, two weeks' march away. The
local commander was sending a whole battalion, making it both a
reconnaissance in force and a demonstration of the power and the long reach
of the Army of the Commonwealth. Until they reached the Great Forest the
battalion would focus on its mission to protect their charges.

On its way back, the force might launch a spoiling attack or preemptive
strike to disrupt the enemy's mobilizations. Or, if their depredations
continued, it might turn into a punitive expedition. The colonel was
confident that he had the numbers, the weapons, and the trained soldiers to
handle just about anything. Fierce as they were, the barbarians were merely
disorganized bands of warriors, not a disciplined force of professional
soldiers.

Just then more visitors arrived; these were Klarendes' sons, Artor and
Eborn, one fifteen and the other thirteen. The older son took after his
father, the younger evidently after their mother, but both were fine
looking lads dressed relatively modestly in loincloths and sandals. They
greeted their father enthusiastically not having seen him for some months.

When introduced by their father as simply "my sons Artor and his younger
brother Eborn", the boys winked at the minstrel waved cheerily and quipped
in tandem:

"I am the heir."

"And I am the spare."

Aodh grinned at what was obviously a very old joke and a regular part of
their shtick.

When the father asked what was new with them, the younger boy confided,
much to the older boy's chagrin, that his brother was sweet on the daughter
of a family friend. The younger brother made up for that breach of
confidence when he praised the senior sibling for tutoring him in
geography, enabling him to pass that final section of his school leaving
examinations.

Last to arrive was the officer in charge of the battalion, Colonel Urqaart,
a bluff man in full uniform, though unarmed except for a long knife. They
sat down to get acquainted over a hearty meal and a fine brew. Klarendes
had met Urqaart before professionally. That worthy turned to the others and
lauded the nobleman, saying:

"My friend Lord Klarendes is too modest to mention it, but he is a real
hero in these parts for his role in the last war against the barbarians,
when he almost single handedly turned back the invasion. The barbarians
lost heart after that third battle turned into a slaughter and
retreated. We hit them a couple more times to reinforce the lesson. In
later years I watched young Klarendes rise to captain."

"Before he left active duty with the forces, he persuaded the High Command
that his militia company should not march out with the field army as before
but should hold the valley as a potential redoubt for us regulars in case
we had to retreat before overwhelming force. With our army behind their
fortifications, the valley would be impregnable. I understand the
quartermasters have stocked a depot there with a mountain of rations."

"Yes, enough to feed 10,000 men for 100 days."

"Let us hope it won't come to that. Anyway, with these reinforcements we
can go on the offensive. Which is why my commander, the general, did not
complain too much when Balandur suggested he provide a battalion as an
escort."

"Suggested?" Karel teased, drawing chuckles all around even from Colonel
Urqaart.

Balan cleared his throat theatrically, clearly having something important
to say.

"Friends, I must now exercise my authority as a Hand of the Commonwealth to
give you new assignments. The unicorn concurs fully in this.

<I do, much as I will miss all of you.>

Regrettably we now take separate paths. The elf-boy, the unicorn, and I
will travel with a military escort to the Great Southern Forest for Dahl's
training as a druid. You twins would have little to do there except get
bored and into mischief. Best thing for you is to sign up with the army
here as civilian scouts. As hunters and archers and explorers of new lands,
you are just what the forces need to find their way in unmapped
country. Having some military experience will prepare you for what is to
come."

"And no, as civilians, they won't make you wear a uniform. You can enroll
in the scouts and even keep running around stark naked as proper
elf-friends should."

The twins nodded, seeing the wisdom in Balan's idea.

"I will send word as to where and when we will form up again as a
company. It could be as much as two years though likely less."

"I was unsure about Aodh and reluctant to lose him and his unique abilities
after the way he fought so well against the dark riders, helped us face
down those unruly soldiers, and even replenished our purse.  But now Fate
has stepped in. Young minstrel, your place is with Lord Klarendes. Your
next contribution to the cause will be to train his militia in unarmed
combat until we get together again. And perhaps Lord Klarendes will join us
at that time. We could use someone who is both an veteran soldier and a
powerful fire caster."

A nod from the nobleman conceded that he was open to the suggestion, but
only time would tell. Then Aodh spoke up.

"I'd like that very much, Balan. As for my own mission, with the assistance
of Lord Klarendes, I will send a report via the Great Northern Road to my
people telling them that the danger, while growing, is not imminent, and
that the Commonwealth and the Druids are mobilizing to meet the threat."

"And another thing Taitos, you really need a better maths teacher at the
village school. Granther Brandez knows the material all right, but he has
no feel for the subject. He bores his students to tears. He should stick to
teaching history and geography and composition, which he is good at. Now it
so happens that I am very good at maths, especially practical stuff like
arithmetic, geometry, trigonometry, and converting weights and
measures. And wouldn't you know it, I am between jobs at the moment."

Klarendes grinned, like a drowning man who suddenly finds a floating spar
to hang on to.

"You're hired!" he announced grandly.

Everyone laughed.

Klarendes two sons seconded the motion, telling Aodh simply:

"Welcome to the family."

[Continued in Part 4]

			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.

Comments and feedback welcome.