Date: Sat, 12 Oct 2013 10:05:14 -0400
From: George Gauthier <georgegauthierdc@gmail.com>
Subject: Elf-Boy and Friends Part 5

				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.

Comments and feedback welcome.