Date: Wed, 14 May 2014 09:58:21 -0400
From: George Gauthier <georgegauthierdc@gmail.com>
Subject: Elf-Boy's Friends 2

			Elf-Boy's Friends 2
			Frost Giants Part II
 			by George Gauthier

[The further adventures of characters from the novel 'Elf-Boy and Friends']

			Chapter 5. The Long March

The Hot Lands were a vast grassy basin lying near the equator much lower in
altitude than the stretch of country abandoned by the giants. What little
rain fell there mostly sank into the sandy soil or drained along ephemeral
streams till it reached sinkholes or evaporation ponds. The twins' maps
marked the few perennial watercourses. Waterholes dug years earlier for the
centaurs were lifesavers. Surface water sources could never had provided
for six hundred Frost Giants.

To cope with the oppressive heat the column traveled from dawn to mid
morning then from late afternoon into the evening. The straw hats perched
atop the twins Jemsen and Karel might have looked silly, but they did the
job. Soon the lady giants were at work plaiting the native grasses into
reasonable facsimiles of the twins' headgear.

Just behind the vanguard marched the command group: Artor Klarendes,
journeyman Hand of the Commonwealth, Oddr Bjarnson, civic leader of the
Frost Giants, and Harald Sigurdsen, their war chief. They did not
anticipate danger, but if a threat emerged, Artor would stand on the raised
shields of his two guards to survey the situation and direct streams or
balls of fire at the enemy.

During the midday layovers, crews stretched white tarps between the supply
carts. Spears stuck into the earth propped up the sunshade high enough for
the giants to stand. That afforded welcome protection from the sun while
open sides let breezes in. During their halts Artor invoked his powers as a
firecaster to chill the water in the butts the giants drank from,
dispersing the extracted heat to the atmosphere. Cool water gave everyone
on the march a psychological lift. The water carried in their personal
gourds was wet but warm.

From long experience in their travels across the continent the giants were
aware of the dangers of dehydration and elevated body temperature. They
paired off in a buddy system to watch each other for signs of heat stress.

Even the twins wilted, though they were much better able to shed heat
thanks to their slender bodies and their superb conditioning. Marching
skin-clad or in the nude as they did let the winds reach every part of
their sweaty skin promoting cooling from both evaporation and vasodilation.

Near the midpoint of the crossing they came across a well with a wind
powered pump that drew sweet water from an aquifer far below. The giants
refilled their water butts, bathed, washed clothes and rested for two days,
glad for the break and reluctant to push on past this veritable oasis.

"Our trek this time is easier than our last in these parts," Jemsen
observed to his identical twin. "Back then the only shade we had was our
sombreros or a sarong rigged as sunshade during a halt."

"By the way, how are you doing, there Finn. You looked a little green about
the gills there before the halt."

"Yes, the heat really got to me this morning. When will we leave this green
hell?"

"I think I can say with complete confidence that we are more than halfway
across the Hot Lands. And since we are on a course southwestward, moving
away from the Equator every day, temperatures should start to fall. Help is
on the way. Hang in there Finn."

The young giant sighed. "You really know the heat is getting to you when it
just too damn hot at night to make love to boys as sexy as yourselves."

Just then Oddr, the leader of the Frost Giants, upended his water gourd
over Finn's head remarking:

"Anyone who would turn down boys as exquisite as Jemsen and Karel must be
going soft in the head."

"Thank you, sir. I really needed that. I had already drunk my own gourd
empty but was reluctant to step into the sun to go over to one of the water
butts."

"Now that your head is clear, why don't you refill both our gourds?"

As Finn bestirred himself to do just that, Oddr hunkered down to confer
with his guides. Their assessment of the progress of the march was
heartening. It really looked like they would get through virtually
unscathed thanks to their preparations, their equipment, their march
discipline and camp organization, and the maps and guidance from the
twins. Credit was due to Finn too since he backed the twins up on their
scouts, the trio sometimes getting out of sight of the main body due to
terrain.

"We are obliged to Lords Zalor and Klarendes too. Old campaigners both,
they gave us good advice on organizing the march, setting up camp, field
sanitation, and distribution of supplies among the carts. We look like a
proper little army on campaign."

"You can also thank Finn for tinkering with that water pump to reengage it
with the windmill." Jemsen pointed out. "The centaurs undid the linkage
deliberately when they left so as not to waste water pumping away to no
purpose. They may have expected others of their species to follow in a
second wave."

Oddr nodded.

"Anyway, with so much water available we had a chance to clean up and to
get the stink out of our clothes. As you know we Frost Giants are
fastidious about hygiene. Comes from living in closed up houses during the
winters in our homeland. Going about naked as you do means no sweaty
clothes to launder, not even those sarongs, but I noticed that even
sweating freely as you do, you never smell of it. I have to wonder why."

"I can answer that sir," Finn remarked returning with the refilled water
gourds. "I noticed that myself, living as close to them as I do. It seems
that when their friend the druid Dahlderon used healing magic to extend
their lifespans and their youth, he turned the sebaceous glands in their
bodies into ordinary sweat glands, which produce only water and salt and
none of the oils that can turn bad and smell sour. So, like the elves, the
twins always smell sweet."

"Remarkable."

"Having so little body odor also makes us hard to track by smell." Karel
noted. "That is handy for guys like us who have faced the Dark Prophet's
Trackers twice now. They never give up once they catch a scent."

"Trackers?" Finn asked.

Oddr spoke up. "I have heard of those foul creatures, Finn. Trackers are
dire wolves turned into demon-spawn by dark magic. Reputedly very hard to
kill."

"To deal with trackers we coated our arrowheads with a silver lacquer which
burns their ensorcelled flesh. I once killed a Tracker outright by putting
an arrow through his heart, but that was partly a lucky shot."

"Partly?" Finn asked.

"What I mean is that even with all his dodging and jinking I was sure to
hit the creature but just where the arrow lodged was a matter of luck. Now
if he held still, well I would have sent my arrow through his eye into his
brain. And that was before druidic magic strengthened our unerring sense of
direction. So we don't miss though we do have to practice like anyone
else. Also the magic doubled our strength so we can pull a more powerful
bow with greater range and punch."

Eventually the column reached the norther tip of the Western Mountains and
made camp near a spring of cool water, runoff from the mountains. Artor
ignited the watch fires with a gesture after making sure they had been laid
within wide circles of scraped earth to prevent wildfires. True, he could
always snuff out a runaway fire if it came to it. But there was no sense
though in tolerating sloppy field craft. He might not always be at hand.

Besides, Artor liked to circulate, to get to know some of the huge folk he
was escorting to their new land. He wanted them to get to know him
too. Artor had a gift for putting people at their ease just by being
himself, without the false camaraderie of those who only played at being
leaders. Yes, he was in overall command of the march but he hoped people
would do what he told them because they themselves wanted to do it. Just by
being himself he won their trust. Like his father Taitos, Artor Klarendes
was a natural.

After a stay of three days at the spring, they set off again. The twins
decided to dispense with the sombreros which went into a baggage cart. That
actually helped those at the head of the column to keep the scouts in
sight. Nothing stands out against a landscape like the cornsilk yellow of a
blond boy's hair. Just as well; their tawny hides, so much like that of the
tawny panther that dwelt in those regions blended in with the grassy
terrain.

The going got easier as temperatures fell from next to impossible to merely
oppressive. The ground underfoot was firm enough for the baggage carts but
not baked hard by the sun. Unlike the Frost Giants who wore sandals, the
twins went unshod as well as bare-ass naked, but the calluses on their
soles protected their feet nearly as well as moccasins.

With cooler weather, the mid-day breaks became a time for fun as well as
rest and shelter from the burning sun as the twins and Finn flipped their
toy, the so-called Zinger around. The game or sport might have been
invented to display the delectable body of the youthful human male at its
kinetic best, as the boys ran around, jumped, dodged, stretched, reached,
and tumbled across the grass, their sweaty nude bodies glistening in the
sunlight, the energetic activity accompanied by smiles, laughter, and
general grab-ass silliness. To their audience under sunshades the effect
was totally erotic.

"Anyone else but the twins carrying on like that," Oddr observed, I'd call
them a pair of cock teases, but not those two. Your cock tease has a mean
streak in him, and those two definitely do not. They're nice kids. Good
kids. Terrific kids. Impossible to dislike."

Heads nodded. Harald added. "It's almost like they have a second magical
gift -- irresistible charm."

"Even if it not magical it is indeed a gift."

"I'll say. Those two twinks can charm the trews off me any day!" a voice
called out. "Walking wet dreams, the both of them."

"Don't be daft, Arn. You're much too big. Given their narrow hips you would
rip their quims to shreds."

"There are other ways to swive a boy than penetrating his holes. Poking
between the thighs for instance and some forms of oral service. Nothing
keeps you from petting and feeling and caressing a boy either or pleasuring
him in other ways and vice-versa."

After the game the trio joined their audience in the relative cool of the
shade. Finn plunged his whole body into the lower pool to cool off. (The
camp drew its water from the upper pool.) The twins simply poured water
from gourds over their heads, letting it run down from the crowns of their
heads, down their backs and bellies, to sluice through rear cleavages or
divide around the prows of their proud cocks. Looking around twins only
then realized that they and their game had been the center of the crowd's
rapt attention.

"What did I tell you." Oddr said. "They were playing with that toy out in
the sun purely for the fun of it, not to titillate an audience. Sexy,
funny, brave, and beautiful. What is there not to like about these kids?"

Quick on the uptake and taking Oddr's remark for his cue, Karel swept his
hands down along his body and quipped: "All this and brains too!"

"Ha! Just look at those open and honest faces -- so utterly without of
guile."

"Well I wouldn't go that far." Artor said. "Look, I know what you mean, and
the twins and I are very good friends, practically family. In fact the
twins have a standing invitation to Elysion. We are always hanging out
together -- we and bunch of other great guys like Dahl and Aodh. Jemsen and
Karel are good people, the very best I know. Person to person, what you see
is what you get: friendly, cheerful, loquacious, inquisitive, not to
mention sexy, if that is to your taste. But don't take the twins for a pair
of innocents."

"They are no strangers to cunning and guile when hunting big game or
fighting enemies. Just two instances: the twins ambushed the Dark Riders,
killing the mounts of the riders in front causing a pile up of crushed and
broken bodies both human and equine which the twins pin-cushioned with
their war arrows. Another time, they picked off the officers in the army
that the city of Brax had sent against the Stone Mountain dwarves."

"Your point is well-taken."

One day the main column briefly lost sight of their scouts. As twins and
Finn circled a knob hill, Karel stopped short having come face to face with
a tawny panther. No wir, this was a pure predator. With his bow unstrung
all Karel had was his kukri. Finn took charge.

"Boys, fix your gaze on the cat. Stare it down. Now sidle over towards me
till our bodies nearly touch. Draw your kukris and hold them at the
ready. Try to look as large and imposing as you can. Let's see if we can
bluff our way out of this. When I start, join me in roaring and waving your
arms and stomping your feet, but don't get any closer to the cat."

Their bluff worked. Startled, intimidated, and chagrined, the cat snarled,
turned, and ran off. The theatrical roars of the trio turned into genuine
laughter. Oh the three of them would surely have killed the panther with
their blades, if it had come to that, but at the cost of nasty wounds from
claws or fangs. The Giants had two Healers among them, but their magic was
weak. Frost Giants are the least magically gifted of the sentient races on
Haven. Just as well then that the creature ran off. Besides, panthers were
as beautiful as they were deadly, and it so happened that the twins were
best friends with one.

As the column headed southwest across the plains they encountered the
nomads. Now by heliograph and riders the Commonwealth had sent word ahead
that the Frost Giants had no intention of settling the Plains and would pay
a reasonable toll for crossing their lands, trampling their pastures,
drawing their water, and, despite good march discipline, generally making a
big mess at their camps. Six hundred Frost Giants will do that.

As the column reached each new tribe, Artor stepped forward, looking
official in his silks and leathers and weapons, and triggered the small
magic that identified him as a Hand of the Commonwealth. News of their
march traveled ahead of the column so none of the tribes was surprised and
all were gratified by the generosity of the giants. Maybe Frost Giants
weren't fully house-broken, but they weren't stingy either.

One day, as the column lagged behind, the trio of scouts approached a water
hole at the base of a steep hill. Unfortunately they were not the only
visitors. A pair of slash bears, young males from the same litter and
nearly full grown, had got their first, drunk their fill and settled in the
tall grass. Now slash bears are fierce, ill-tempered, territorial, and they
just don't share well. So the bears got to their feet and roared at these
two-legged interlopers.

Alas bruins do not bluff at all; they would take a bluff as a
challenge. (If all else fails you might try to play dead. Bears do not eat
carrion.) That was not an option in this case. The trio, with Finn in the
lead, had nearly stepped on the pair of bruins. True to their name, the
closer bear slashed Finn's right leg out from under him. He fell heavily
losing his grip on his spear. The bear reared on its hind legs, looking
fierce but unthinkingly exposing its vulnerable vitals. The twins strung
their bows and drove arrows into its heart dropping it. The second bear
stayed on all fours and charged. Knowing their arrows would just bounce off
its skull or get lodged in its shoulder muscles, Jemsen grabbed Finn's
spear.

"Karel, brace the butt of the spear on that boulder. We'll let the beast
run onto it."

Now facing the charge of a slash bear with only a pointed stick in your
hands is usually not recommended. It worked for the twins only because
their unerring aim did as well with a spearhead as with an arrow. The boys
stood their ground as the beast surged forward, roaring its hate at the
humans who had killed its litter mate. Thanks to his speed and quick
reaction time, Jemsen was able to keep the spearhead centered of the bear's
chest. The impetus of the beast's charge drove half the shaft into his
body, stopping only when the spearhead lodged in one of its vertebrae,
ending its forward motion. The slash bear sank to the ground dead.

"Whoa! That was too close, Jemsen."

"Tell me about it, Karel. I was up front, you know," quickly adding. "But I
couldn't have done it without you, brother. It took the both of us. "

"Uh, fellas, I don't want to interrupt your mutual admiration society, but
I am bleeding rather badly over here. Can I get a little help?"

"Oops, sorry Finn. I'll use your belt as a tourniquet while Karel runs back
for a Healer."

It wasn't long before help arrived. The Healer could not restore full
function to the badly torn limb but her magic did well enough that, in
time, the leg would heal as good as new. Meanwhile, Finn would ride a cart.

The giants made camp around the water hole, dragging the bears away to be
skinned. Bear meat is actually quite tasty when roasted and with two
carcasses, most of the giants got at least a bite. The skins would be
turned into rugs. Artor was proud of how his friends had saved the day.

"You two are quite the heroes, you know."

"Affecting a blase attitude, Karel said.

"Sure, sure. Been there; done that. Heroics is what we twins do for a
living."

"Get serious, Karel. The giants mean to make you their Friend."

"Giants have Friends?" Karel blurted out.

"I heard that," Finn growled with mock severity.

"No, no, I meant the institution."

Smiling reassuringly Finn added:

"I know you did, Karel, and yes, we do have the institution of Friendship,
as you call it. I think you and Jemsen are going to be the first humans
ever to bear tattoos as elf-friends, dwarf-friends, and giant-friends, all
three. You'll go down in history!"

"I think we already have." Karel quipped.

"Ha! Now you are just joshing. Seriously, this is a distinct honor."

"Indeed it is." Oddr added. "And quite a rare one."

"Probably because we Frost Giants seldom need anyone else's help." Harald
Sigurdsen observed blandly, which drew a genial chuckle from all within
earshot.

After that came a simple ceremony with speeches mostly in the common
language for the sake of the twins. Oddr explained that the honor was being
conferred not only for their bravery in saving Finn's life but also for
their key role in the Long March. As guides and scouts the twins were
always out in front constantly exposed to danger.

"Constantly exposed is right!" Harald quipped. The war-chief had a knack
for one-liners.

The giants had a unique approach to tattooing. With their big hands they
could not do it the usual way one prick at a time. Instead they used a kind
of cylindrical stamp armed with many pins at the end and dipped in
ink. Pressed against the flesh, all it took was a single thump with a
mallet to incise the design into the left shoulder of the heroes.

"Yikes!" the twins both yelled, but the Healer soon put things right, a
task well within her power.

The giants crowded around the twins to congratulate them. Frost Giants are
very touchy feely, so their hands were all over the delectable nude bodies
of the young heroes, petting, stroking, rubbing chests and bellies,
squeezing buns, delving into rear cleavages, that sort of thing. The
stimulation was enough for both twins to get all tingly down there, though
not enough to bring on an erection, which would have been a faux-pas in the
circumstances.

			Chapter 6. Rendezvous

Finn thanked his lucky stars that he had become good friends with the
twins. Jemsen and Karel had put themselves in deadly peril to save his
life. They might have left him and run away leaving Finn to distract the
second slash bear. Two slender nude youths challenging a monster while
armed with nothing more than a pointy stick was distinctly bad odds. Finn
had seen fear in the twins' eyes but their faces had been set in the calm
of veteran fighters, warriors who had learned to clamp down on their
emotions during combat to focus on what had to be done and how they were
going to do it. Yes, these twins might be impossibly cute and boyish, but
they had grit.

That night, as usual, the twins snuggled up to Finn. Maybe Finn could not
put his weight on his injured leg but everything else was in working
order. Yet their lovemaking that night was tender and gentle, more about
love than lust, more about touching and physical contact than orgasms, and
more about contentment than excitement. Finn loved to stroke, pet and hug
the hard bodies of young males in preference to the soft voluptuous
physiques of females. He particularly loved waking up in the morning to
find the twins asleep in his bed, their bare limbs entwined with his, their
angelic faces relaxed in sleep.

Finn realized that what had started as infatuation had turned into
something more serious. The two humans had become close friends, people he
wanted to spend time with and not just to make love. The twins were good
people.

On another such night Karel laid his head on Finn's chest, listening to the
beat of the strong heart of the young giant.He suddenly sat up with an
uncertain look on his face:

"Er... Finn, something is wrong. Either your pulse is irregular or I am
feeling two heartbeats."

"We Frost Giants actually have three hearts. For starters we have the same
four-chambered heart as humans lodged in the middle of the chest. We also
have a pair of auxiliary two-chambered hearts much lower down in our pelvic
region which help pump the blood from the legs up to the main heart. That
way we prevent dangerously high blood pressure."

The trek grew easier as the giants were now in a gentler land, one still
fairly hot but nothing like the Hot Lands.

"How far now to the rendezvous, Karel?" Oddr asked one day.

"It should be just over the horizon, sir."

"Look there. Such an odd bird! Finn remarked pointing a bit west of south.

"Oh, that is not a bird. It is a box kite. Army scouts ride kites to get a
better view of the terrain from on high."

"What kind of reckless fool would soar into the sky on a kite?"

"Fools like Jemsen and me. We did that as army scouts. And for your
information, once you get over your fear it is a hell of lot of fun. There
you are two hundred feet up, riding the winds like a hawk, soaring above
earthbound mortals, master of all you survey."

"That's fun? I am sorry sir. Did I say reckless? I meant crazy." Finn
pronounced.

"Well, we were very young in those days. Artor, why don't you signal that
we have seen them. I know they will have seen us."

"Good idea." Suiting action to his words, the young firecaster hurled a
decent sized fireball into the air."

Oddr gave the order to halt while they waited for riders from the army
camp. The twins wrapped sarongs around their hips, formal wear for them.
Within the hour a small escort lead by an underofficer rode up. He saluted
Artor as a Hand of the Commonwealth. Then said:

"Lord Zaldor sends his compliments, sir and to those two two young colts as
well, though I cannot tell which one is Sir Jemsen and which is Sir Karel.

"Thank you," Artor said. "Jemsen is the one in the green sarong and Karel
in the blue. Let me introduce you to the leader of the Frost Giants, Oddr
Bjarnson and their war-chief, Harald Sigurdsen."

That brought another sharp salute. The officer added:

"Gentlemen, I don't want to spoil the surprise, but I am sure you will be
pleased with what you find ahead."

True to his orders, he could not be drawn out but turned his mount to lead
the column, a procession really toward the encampment which lay in a wide
fold in the terrain. To the left was the army camp, laid out with military
precision. Every camp of the army on the march was laid out the same way to
prevent confusion whether setting up or defending against attack. Next to
it was another camp, quite neatly laid out too though not to the fussy
standards of the military. These tents were much larger than army tents.

"By the gods," Oddr Bjarnson muttered. There must be many hundreds of Frost
Giants in that camp. How did they all get here?"

"I expect, sir, that Lord Zaldor will explain things."

Lord Zaldor did explain things. The Commonwealth had used the increasingly
popular news sheets with their burgeoning circulations as a channel to put
the word out about the plan to settle the land of the centaurs as a second
homeland for Frost Giants. The story went out over postal heliograph to the
main towns. Small town papers reprinted what the city papers published.

The story caught the imagination of the public. All races wished the giants
well. They had been good neighbors. The government was candid about the
risks, but had no trouble finding volunteers who would travel under army
escort. The army insisted that volunteers be properly equipped and have the
right skills to start life in what was essentially a wilderness. There were
no towns or cities, no farms or industries in the land of the centaurs who
lived exclusively by the hunt. The Dark Prophet had induced them to migrate
to the Eastern Plains promising them the herds that ranged those lands. As
for the ranchers and farmers already there, they would continue to work at
animal husbandry but as slaves or better yet, domesticated animals, of the
centaur race.

The volunteers in the camp were only a first contingent, the bravest, most
adventuresome, or most reckless, take your pick, but they had come, some
fourteen hundred of them, more than a few of them young lady giants hoping
to find a husband and start a new life in a new land, their own land. They
arrived in the as yet unnamed town about a week before the Frost Giants
from the North.

"I can see that the Commonwealth has done right by my people." Oddr
said. Our joint conquest of these new lands will cement our friendship."

"Well said. This is an exciting new chapter in the history of the
Commonwealth. I am glad to be a part of it. But what is this? Do I see
fresh tattoos on the shoulders of the twins? By the powers, are they now
giant-friends too? Unbelievable!"

He beckoned the twins over. "So just what have you two young
whippersnappers been up to?"

Jemsen smiled and told him of their adventures and more generally about the
long grueling trek.

Zaldor had long taken an avuncular interest in the proteges of his old
friend Balandur. Watching their animated faces and ready smiles as they
spoke about the Long March, Zaldor was confident that Balandur would have
been proud of the two young men his boys had become.

"Boys, I believe you know General Urqaart. He is in charge of the military
campaign. My job is to handle the politics and to forge an alliance with
the threatened states in the flatlands beyond."

"I don't envy you your job, Lord Zaldor" Urqaart remarked. "It will be like
herding cats."

That brought a chuckle, but Artor, who had caught the remark, disagreed.

"People always say that but it is really quite easy to herd cats. You cut
up tasty fish filets and put them in a bowl. Hold the bowl high and call
out: 'Here kitty, kitty.' They will flock to you then follow wherever you
lead them. Of course you have to toss them a bit of fish now and again to
hold their interest."

"That is actually an apt description of my diplomatic strategy." Zaldor
said ruefully.

Finn made another point.

"This looks to be more than a temporary army camp. I saw builders laying
out permanent building lots. Folks look to be settling in for the long
haul."

"Very observant of you, young Finn." Zaldor said. "Yes the Commonwealth has
leased these lands to build a town. All races will be welcome to live here,
though I expect it will be largely a human settlement. It will serve as a
way station for road builders and for the travelers and merchants who will
one day use this road. A line of heliograph stations is being set up along
the route as well."

"You are leasing the land for the town from the nomads?"

"Not only the town site but also the right of way for two roads across
their lands. The Western Plains lie within Commonwealth's political
boundaries but outside the realm of the commercial code. That protects the
nomads from the land grabbers, predatory lenders, and unscrupulous
businessmen of the settled lands. The nomads are allowed to follow their
roving ways without formal administration by us. They hold their lands in
common and trade their beef and mounts for our manufactures and
luxuries. Hot heads who hanker for adventure can no longer go on raids, but
they can and do join the Commonwealth cavalry which thereby serves as a
productive outlet for their rambunctious impulses."

"We Frost Giants have always encouraged our restless young ones to leave
our crowded homeland and to seek their fortune in the wider world." Oddr
observed.

Letters arrived for the twins from their business agent, a dwarf named
Lennart whom Klarendes had recommended for his shrewd business sense.  With
the trades-mark in hand, Lennart had gone ahead with production and
distribution of "The Gemini Zinger". He had modified the design to add a
decal in the middle of the bowl depicting a pair of nude archers in green
silhouette with the words "Gemini Zinger" arcing above.

The new version of the pie tin toy was a sensational success, helped by
advertising in the new sheets which ascribed the Gemini brand name to the
Zinger's inventors, the famous twins Jemsen and Karel. The ad copy boasted
of the Zinger's better grip and "superior aerodynamic lift". Lennart had
kicked off a marketing campaign that included distribution of free samples
to youth lodges in several major cities and contests at country fairs
pitting the Zinger against ordinary pie tins. Sales were phenomenal with
profits pouring into their coffers.

As the host of the dinner to mark the success of the Long March of the
Frost Giants, as the episode became known in history, Lord Zaldor sat at
the head of the table with his counterpart Oddr in the place of honor at
this right hand. General Urqaqrt sat at the foot of the table with Harald
Sigurdsen at his right. Also seated at the table were Artor flanked by the
twins, and several military officers, a lady of human stock, and a
giantess.

Finally, across the table from Artor sat a really cute young fellow in a
sleeveless tunic of white silk that displayed and flattered the trim and
taut body he had obviously just recently grown into. He had spiky auburn
hair and narrow sideburns reaching below the ear lobe plus straight
eyebrows with almost no curve to them. They framed a cute face with a high
forehead, chiseled jawline, and a perky nose slightly turned up at the
end. He introduced himself as Drew Altair, a journalist dispatched by his
news sheet to cover the impending war.

"This is my first assignment as a war correspondent. As a journalist, I am
just getting started in my career."

"How then did you land such a desirable assignment? Surely more senior
journalists angled for the job?" Artor asked.

"They did, but none of the others were their publisher's second son!" he
answered candidly, an embarrassed grin on his pretty features.

"So why not his first-born?"

"Oh he's the editor, and our uncle owns the print shop that runs off the
copies."

"Which news sheet do you write for anyway?"

"That would be the Capital Intelligencer."

"Ouch! We take a local paper out of Dalnot, but when my father is in the
capital he always reads the Intelligencer even though he grumbles that its
very name suggests a breach of security. But then he had been grumbling
about news sheets and war correspondents since the last Plains War."

"Tell me about it. Before I came out here with the army I interviewed your
father at Elysion about his participation in the peace talks with the Frost
Giants. Oh, he was very gracious, but he did use those very words with me."

"Luckily I had brought along a copy of my recent article on the
brontotheres recently installed on the plains. Such magnificent creatures,
looking like armored one-horns or rhinos, only as high at the shoulder as
giant. Unlike the rhinos, their two horns point forward and are composed of
bone and are set side to side. Bizarre in the extreme. The charge of a herd
of brontotheres is unstoppable."

"They have become a minor tourist attraction. Folks pay for admission to
their range and also the privilege of feeding sugar beets and cabbages to
the beasts. It helps defray the costs of the state-owned farm which
provides the produce."

"The brontotheres sometimes take people for a ride sitting astride their
necks, though they are not biddable, simply going wherever they please, so
sometimes riders have a long hike back. Still they haven't lost a tourist
yet. Though there was this one fellow who came close while I was
there. Once he got astride the neck of the biggest one, the matriarch of
the herd, he dug in his spurs. Big mistake. Their skin is so thick it like
armor. The spurs just annoyed the matriarch not from any pain but from the
indignity of it all. She lowered her head then whipped it up again real
fast tossing the miscreant into a swamp. Oh he wasn't hurt; the reeds, the
water, and the mud cushioned his fall, but he was a frightful mess. I
laughed so hard it hurt my ribs."

"As you know your father's spouse, Sir Aodh, grew up with brontotheres in
the far-off land of the wirs. He said the matriarch was an old friend named
Manda. Our shared enthusiasm for brontotheres recommended me to them
both. Gosh but Aodh is so darn cute and sexy. I think he liked me too, but
since I was there on business and not making a social call, I kept things
between us strictly professional. Ah, the things we correspondents do for
our art!"

"You know, Karel and I have a standing invitation to Elysion. How about
tagging along with us on a visit?"

"I'll look forward to it. Funny isn't it the way Aodh spells his name when
it is pronounced like the vowels in vein."

"Don't my brother started," Jemsen said with a cautionary glare at Karel
who countered with an air of offended innocence.

"I am sure I don't know what you are talking about, Jemsen."

"Yeah, right!"

"You know, Drew, you remind me a lot of an old friend of ours. Oh he was
three-quarters elf and dark blond, but like you he was a little guy, call
it five foot zero (152 cm) and one hundred pounds even (45 kg). You have
the same a wiry physique with a well-defined musculature and a strong upper
storey."

"Actually your father told me about him too. Ran or Randell was his
name. You father described him as an irrepressible scamp who was impossible
to dislike. I understand he died a hero, saving forty schoolchildren from a
marauding centaur."

Drew saw the pain in their eyes as they recalled brave little Ran's
sacrifice.

"Yes, our Ran was beautiful, courageous, and well-loved."

After that, the conversation turned to other topics. All four young men had
taken an instant liking to each other. Without anything specific being
said, they knew that they would seek out each other's company often in the
months to come.

			Chapter 7. Bonding

The four youths attended the council of war the next day. Drew had
permission to take notes on the understanding that he would run the text of
his articles by the press officer. A formality really. Their enemies, the
centaurs did not take the Capital Intelligencer. As far as anyone knew,
they were totally illiterate.

Before the meeting got called to order, the four of them chatted over in a
corner. For the occasion, Drew came in the outfit he would wear on
campaign: short trews which reached to mid-thigh and a sleeveless shirt
slashed all the way at the sides, both made of dark green silk plus a pair
of the same hobnailed sandals that the infantry wore. He explained:

"These are for when I march with you guys and the giants. For when I ride
with the cavalry I have a pair of short boots with thick heels that fit
more securely in the stirrups than a flat sole. Gives a more secure seat."

"All well and good." Artor said, "Now don't take this the wrong way, Drew,
but how can you protect yourself, a little fellow like you, no offense. I
mean, I can throw fire and the twins are deadly with their bows and kukris,
and Finn has a sword and that twelve foot spear of his."

"With these." Drew replied, holding out a pair of steel balls about the
size of a peach. "My magical gift is Fetching."

"Just like with Arik!"

"That's right, Jemsen. I have been practicing a technique I developed. Now
Arik's poisoned arrowheads work well against most foes but maybe not
centaurs. Their constitutions are so alien, who knows what poisons affect
those creatures? Besides my spheres, I carry darts coated with a non-lethal
drug to knock out my target: one for a man or several darts for larger
targets. The steel balls are for when something needs killing or I want to
smash down doors, break locks, or get through shields, that sort of thing."

"So you just Throw the steel balls at your target."

"No, I don't just Throw and let them go. I keep control of the movement of
the steel ball at all times, keeping it under power as it were, moving it
back and forth, left and right, up and down, as the ball smashes its way
through the target. With my level of power I can lift a boulder off the
ground without strain. That amount of force applied to a small steel ball
makes it travel incredibly fast generating devastating momentum. By the
time I finished, the carcasses of the dead cattle I had practiced on were
so badly torn up their meat was unusable."

"I can only imagine."

"By the way," Finn added, "Nice outfit, very practical on campaign."

"Oh, I don't know," Karel ventured. "Jemsen and I were kinda hoped he would
fight bare-ass naked the way we do. For purely tactical reasons, of course"
he added, tongue in cheek, explaining that sweaty nude bodies were slippery
and hard to hold on to while clothing, belts, and straps afforded grab
holds to adversaries.

"Ha, ha. Don't worry guys, you'll get plenty of chances to see me in the
nude, close up and personal, if you take my meaning."

"That's much better."

"Another one then!" Artor said, rolling his eyes. "It's a wonder that the
sentient races on this planet of ours don't die out from failure to
reproduce! Not that I am being critical of you personally. I know that
sexual orientation is not a conscious choice; it is a discovery we make
about ourselves at puberty and sometimes later. Well, except for elves
whose same gender orientation is their hereditary destiny. Still, have you
even tried girls, Drew?"

"As a matter of fact I have, but it felt all wrong. I realized then that I
was one of those who was made for boys, and boys were made for me."

"Good answer," the twins enthused in unison.

"So did you choose your campaign outfit for practical reasons or are you
body shy."

"Body shy? Hardly! At home when I am not on assignment I prance around the
capital with nary a stitch, not even one of those genital pouches that I am
now old enough to wear. I am seventeen going on eighteen, though I look a
year or two younger because of my small stature."

"On assignment I always dress up in a tunic or something of that sort. Not
from modesty of course. When I am working on a story, I don't want my
physical beauty to distract my interlocutors. More importantly clothing
helps me get taken more seriously by those I talk to. Adults would not
grant me an interview if they thought I was just another underage
bare-assed kid butting into the business of grown ups."

"I mean, with one glance at my slight build and impossibly pretty features
macho males mark me down as the worst sort of bum boy. Not just someone who
submits from force of circumstance, but a natural submissive who prefers
the role of catamite or boy toy. I can hardly deny that I look like one. If
that makes me seem less than manly, then so be it. I like my look just fine
and am not the least bit interested in "manning up". All in all I enjoy
being a sexy boy-toy, but it does have that down side."

The twins nodded. "We ourselves normally run around 'skin-clad' like our
friends the elves, but we wrap a sarong around our hips for formal
occasions like this dinner, wear silk trews when up on a horse to prevent
chafing, or throw a hooded camouflage cloak over our shoulders while
working as army scouts. Otherwise we go around unshod and unclothed. We
made the whole Long March in the rude nude."

"I envy you. I have never been publicly naked for months at a stretch like
you guys. If only..."

"A bit of an exhibitionist are you then, Drew?"

"Guilty as charged. Gosh, does that make me a bad person?" he asked
rhetorically, tapping his breast with his fist in mock self reproach.

"Anyway, when I do put on clothing, it is not just about my slight
physique. When I run around in the nude folks can see that I am uniformly
bronzed from habitual nudity, the mark of a boy still too young for
clothing. With my wiry physique and delicate features, my appearance is
androgynous rather than masculine. I fall far short of normal male
standards in height, muscular development, and manly characteristics like
beard and body hair. As short as I am, as fine-boned, and impossibly
comely, they won't take me seriously as a male. Many take me for a rent
boy."

"Been there; done that." the twins chorused with a grin.

"Really?"

Jemsen explained how the two of them and Dahl and Aodh had sold their
charms to finance their first journey across the continent. Some years
later he asked Balandur why the giant hadn't just paid for everything out
of his purse. Not only was he rich, he was well compensated as a Dread Hand
of the Commonwealth, to give him his full title. He said that he wanted his
proteges to bond, the younglings, being all in the same boat, as it were,
without coin or a stitch to wear for that matter. When life gets down to
basics, well it shows what sort of person you were. Merry was in on it
too."

"All of you? Heroes famous across the continent: the druid Dahlderon, Sir
Aodh of LLangollen, and Sirs Jemsen and Karel, Holders of the Military
Cross for Valor, elf-friends, dwarf-friends, and now giant-friends
too. Rent boys. Wow!"

"By the way guys, I will need to interview all three of you about the Long
March of the Frost Giants. Finn too. You see, not only will I be posting
stories about the campaign from this point on, but I will pen features
about what lead up to today: Finn's mission, the peace talks, the Long
March, the call for volunteers, the new town, etc. We owe it to
posterity. Journalism is the first draft of history, as the saying goes."

Over the next week, the giants resupplied, regrouped and reordered their
forces, enlisting enough fighters from among the emigrants to double their
little army to nearly twelve hundred. Some of the younger ones went
courting among the emigrants, able to look presentable to potential mates
thanks to a supply of eleven depilatories.

The remaining giants, including most of the women and the few youngsters
would sojourn at the townsite till they could safely enter the land of the
centaurs. The plan was to sweep the entire country, kill the great majority
of the centaurs, then find a promising site for an army fort and a civilian
town though both would be protected by palisades.

In the meanwhile, the twins and Drew got better acquainted. Very well
acquainted indeed. The twins took things one step at a time. Enticing Drew
into a threesome would not be on the agenda for some time to come. The
twins might look nearly his age but they were in their mid-twenties with so
much more life experience than any seventeen year old kid could possibly
have. Karel won the toss of the coin. Between them the brothers made a bet
how long it would take for Drew to tell them apart by their lovemaking
technique or by just their appearance.

For his part Drew was so glad to have the twins take him to their bed. He
had tried females and found that it was so much better making love to a
boy. Girls are soft and round and jiggly. Boys have hard bodies, all muscle
and bone and sinew. Nothing is better than to wrestle a boy in bed,
grappling with his strong body, so much like your own, to join with him in
a passionate embrace (which is artsy talk for a hard fuck).

Also a boy gives head so much better than a girl. He knows cock better than
any female ever could. Drew looked so damn cute when he knelt in front of a
twin, all submissive like, hands along his flanks, using just his tongue
and his lips on the cock of the male he was worshiping. Or vice-versa; the
twins were versatile and did not mind switching roles.

Drew never had to work to arouse either of the twins down there. With him
their cocks sprang into action, hard even as the young auburn-haired beauty
sank to his knees. Drew always started with a kiss on the head of the cock
he was servicing, a light peck at first, then a smooch. Then his tongue
went to work, twirling around the glans, poking the tip into the piss slit,
tapping the knob with little flicks with the tip of his own tongue, often
targeting the sweet spot. Karel liked him to open his mouth and take just
the head in and let it rest there for a minute, to let it get used to the
sensations of moisture and warmth, to let the shaft feel his pouty lips
close around it possessively, proprietarily. Jemsen liked to slip further
back sooner than his twin, but he never forced the pace.

Then Finn joined the fun. The young giant was huge compared to the twins
and even more so compared to the diminutive journalist. The young giant
liked to make love standing on his feet. With Drew's legs bent upward, Finn
lifted the boy high enough for Drew to throw his ankles over Finn's
shoulders while the back of his thighs were pressed to Finn's chest. The
giant supported most of Drew's slight weight on his arms -- at least till
he got the boy settled on his cock. Slipping it inside was awkward since
Drew couldn't easily reach back there. They took it slowly and carefully.

For such a big guy Finn was a gentle though energetic lover. He did not
batter his way inside but let Drew set the pace and the degree of
penetration as well as do much of the work himself, lifting his body,
letting it fall back onto the cock inside him, basically fucking himself,
though Finn helped with his big hands raising and lowering Drew bodily.

When he had Drew down on all fours and covered the boy like a stallion does
a filly, Finn's hand played with Drew's own cock, stroking and pumping and
sliding the foreskin back and forth, thumbing its sweet spot, making the
smaller male shudder with desire until he came explosively, which set Finn
to coming in a chain reaction as the muscles of his quim contracted
spasmodically, squeezing the cock that was inside him and sending its owner
into orgasm as well.

At a barbecue the afternoon before the kickoff of the military campaign,
harking back to what the had talked about the day they all met Finn asked
about Artor's own love life.

"Eventually I expect to marry and start a family. So like you, Artor I am
interested in the perpetuation of the sentient species on this planet, as
you so aptly put it. So I wondered what you yourself have done toward that
end? Aren't you, as the heir, supposed to engender an heir and a spare of
your own" he asked pointedly.

"OK. You got me. The reason I am not looking for a bride right now is that
my father gave me a pass on doing so in my late teens, as he had done in
his youth. My parents' was an arranged marriage designed to perpetuate both
their considerable degree of elven blood for my generation and to pass on
the gift of firecasting. My mother, though not a firecaster herself except
in a very minor way, enough to light candles or a kitchen fire, could pass
on to her offspring the propensity to manifest that gift."

"As it turned out, their marriage was doubly successful. First they had
kids very quickly. Humans and elves often find it difficult to conceive,
and that applies to hybrids like my folks. As it happened, my mother
conceived far quicker than anyone expected and she did it twice. The second
success was that their arranged marriage turned into a real love
match. They made each other very happy. Until her accident of course."

"So now I am free to live the unconstrained life of a bachelor and play the
field. My brother will likely marry before I do though he too is in no
hurry. We both have centuries before us. Why act hastily and perhaps find
ourselves partnered with a lady who is jealous of other attachments? What
is it with women anyway that they cannot understand that males not only
crave but need variety. Once you are married, once they get their hooks
into you, they label a spouse who lies with another a cheat. Cheating?
Really? Marriage is not a game of cards. What nonsense."

"Yours is the cry of aggrieved males down the ages. Artor, let me tell you
the story of my great-uncle Sven and his encounter with a harridan of just
that persuasion. Not his wife, I hasten to add, a fine lady who was secure
in his affections despite the roving eye for which he was well-known. One
feast day, it was only early evening but the mead had flowed freely,
pitchers of it passed from trestle table to trestle table, this lady, let's
call her Lady Aster, got on Sven's case. She harangued him for quite some
while till Sven, exasperated that she was spoiling his holiday, told her to
keep her wrong-headed notions to herself. A man who spread his favors
widely, he maintained was just being generous, doubly so with someone like
himself who did not discriminate between the genders.

"Is that what you call chronic philandering -- generosity!"

"I do. I am also of the opinion that women who insist on fidelity and
exclusivity are just being selfish."

"By that point Lady Aster was so angry she was nearly apoplectic, much to
the amusement of Sven and his loyal wife too. Drawing herself up to her
haughtiest, Lady Aster gave Sven a withering look and declared:

"Sven Aldrson. Were I your wife, I should put poison in your kaffay."

"Without missing a beat Sven gave back: 'Madame, were I your husband, I
would drink it!'"

That broke everyone up, both those present on the fateful day and those
listening years later to Finn's recital of the tale of his great-uncle's
triumph.

[Philanderer is actually a strange term for a chronic womanizer. The word
derives from Greek roots and means 'lover of men']

			Chapter 8. Campaign

Given the nature of the enemy, ordinary scouting would never work. Centaurs
relied on scent as well as their sharp vision to detect enemies and they
literally had eyes in the back of their head for three hundred sixty degree
vision. With a full battalion left behind at the new town temporarily being
called Plainsville, General Urqaart's army commenced a wide sweep of the
rolling lands in the south of the country occupied by the centaurs. His
cavalry squadrons quartered the landscape. Meanwhile the Frost Giants
secured the site selected for the fort and new town on the banks of a major
river. Under their protection, army engineers and the giants' own builders
erected palisades enclosing the sites of town and fort which were separated
by a distance of no more than two bow shots.

At first the centaurs refused battle. Their population lived by the hunt
and was too scattered to muster quickly. In time though a great host
gathered with the intent of slaying the interlopers and feeding on their
carcasses. Both forces were made up entirely of cavalry as they squared off
on either side of a small creek running through a wide meadow, some three
thousand humans mounted on horses against perhaps twice as many of the
six-limbed centaurs. Unfortunately the centaur's speed of maneuver had made
it impossible for the allied infantry, that is the Frost Giants, to join
the cavalry on the battlefield.

Looking very different from mythological centaurs, these creatures were
insect-like monsters who nevertheless walked on their four hind limbs while
in front their bodies angled up to a torso with long arms and a head,
whence their name. Their four hind limbs ended in hoof-like structures
formed from fuzed digits, but their arms had large hands with three fingers
and a semi-opposable thumb. They had internal cartilaginous skeletons,
unlike insects who wore their skeletons of chitin on the outside of their
bodies.

Joined directly to their bodies without a true neck, their heads could not
swivel. To compensate, the beasts not only had two large eyes in front for
binocular vision, they also had two small eyes in the back of the
head. These small eyes could not swerve, but they extended the centaurs'
peripheral vision to 360 degrees.

The centaurs could make and use tools and weapons. In battle they slashed
at their foes with a curved saber in each hand. As the human army shook
itself out into a line of battle the centaurs formed a wedge. Their intent
was clear: to crash through the human lines then wheel both left and right
and roll up their flanks.

"Sorry, sir, but I don't think I can stop their charge," Artor
admitted. "There are a thousand centaurs in that wedge, while I can form
and throw only so many fireballs in the time it would take for them to
close the distance."

"If only we had our Frost Giants with us to sling those glass globes of
yours, Artor for you to ignite as they fall among them. The globes are a
real force multiplier for your firecasting, enough to break up that wedge
formation, I am sure."

Years earlier young Aodh had come up with the idea of filling small glass
globes with a inflammable liquid which slinger boys could hurl at an enemy
over the defenders' shield wall. Since then, the technique had been
refined. Each globe held one of two kinds of liquid, dark or light. The
dark fluid had been thickened by an additive devised by alchemists to make
it cling to a target, much like a firecaster's fireballs. The light colored
liquid was less viscous, splashing around easily over a wide area.

"Maybe we can create a force multiplier without the Frost Giants." Drew
Altair remarked to the army's commanders. He went on to explain that
working together, how he and Artor could disrupt the wedge long before it
reached Urqaart's lines. Their supply carts held a supply of globes. Using
his Fetching power Drew could precisely target the centaurs at the point of
the wedge, smashing globes of clingy liquid in their faces for Artor to
ignite. Drew could keep several globes in motion at any one time. He was
confident that the centaurs could never get through that gauntlet of fire.

And so it proved to be. The wedge surged forward with the main body of
centaurs following behind in support, ready to exploit the breakthrough
once it was achieved. Alas those on point ran into a fiery holocaust. With
the globes under control during their flight, Drew simply could not
miss. Dozens then hundreds of globes flew at the centaurs then exploded
into flame at just the right instant. The charge of the centaurs dissolved
in a shambles.

Then it was the turn of the cavalry. Trumpets sounded the charge. With
lances lowered and feet braced in their stirrups, the cavalry of the
Commonwealth rode the centaurs down. Powered by the momentum of horse and
rider concentrated on the tip of their lance heads, the riders skewered the
centaurs. When lances broke on impact or remained lodged in the centaurs,
the cavalrymen drew their swords and supported those who still had
lances. Together they inflicted an unbelievable slaughter. The cavalry's
own losses were relatively light -- only three hundred -- but those men
died hard. The centaurs beheaded or sliced the bellies of man and horse
alike whenever the cavalry charge faltered and lost its momentum.

Flanking columns of riders cut off attempts by groups of centaurs to
flee. It was a battle of annihilation. General Urqaart expressed his
satisfaction and his gratitude to the two young men who had been so
critical to their success.

"Things looked dicey there at first, but thanks to Artor and young Altair,
we blunted their attack then pressed our own against them. They won't try
that again anytime soon, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" the young journalist asked, perplexed.

"These creatures are cunning. After such a defeat, they will change their
methods and come at us another way, maybe adopt guerrilla tactics."

"Then you would have to flush them out of forest and hills and ravines that
they know well and we don't."

"Maybe not, sir." Jemsen said tentatively. "These centaurs live by the hunt
right? What if the game they fed on disappeared?"

"What do you mean, Sir Jemsen?"

"I think I know what my brother is getting at, sir." Karel interjected. "A
game drive. A line of skirmishers spreads out across the countryside,
making a lot of noise. That will drive the game before them. Oh the
centaurs themselves will go to ground, hide, and wait for the drive to
pass, but soon they will have to come out of concealment in search of
food. That is your chance to wipe them out."

"Excellent! I suppose it would take a hunter rather than a military man to
come up with that idea."

"We should lure them to ground of our own choosing, though just where I
don't know." Karel finished.

"Maybe I do."

"What do you mean, Drew?"

"Last week I was with riders on a reconnaissance mission. We chanced upon a
valley enclosed by steep hills on all sides, with only one way in. Drive a
substantial number of game animals into the valley as bait for the
centaurs."

General Urqaart shook his head.

"I read the report of that patrol. That valley is bad country for cavalry."

"But not for infantry. We'll station the Frost Giants at the inner end of
the ravine leading into the valley. When the centaurs poke their noses into
the ravine, you bottle them up with cavalry on the rolling plains that lead
to the valley. That is prime cavalry country. The centaurs will be
trapped. They can either die on your lances or face the blades and spears
of the Frost Giants."

"Afterwards, you should have only stragglers to deal with. With the
conquest basically finished, you could ride on with the bulk of your army
in the strategic push to the endangered lands beyond."

"I like the way that boy thinks. All these younglings in fact, the twins
and the Hand too."

It took some doing but events went as planned. The centaurs took the bait,
marched into the ravine, got trapped by the cavalry to their rear, and
died, mostly trying to breach the shield wall of the giants. Artor rode
with the cavalry and roasted dozens of centaurs. He then hurled a few
fireballs into the sky to panic the great mass of the centaurs in the
ravine. The twins and the young journalist stood with the Frost Giants.

Jemsen and Karel took a position just behind the extreme right of the
giant's lines, up the slope a ways. That let them fire down at centaurs
locked in close combat with the giants or to reach out farther, beyond the
fighters at the shield wall. Supplied by the army quartermaster with a
dozen bundles of arrows each, the twins kept up a steady fire. Ten arrows
stuck headfirst into the ground were handy for volley fire, should a
profitable target present itself.

The twins sent their shafts into the heads and necks of the monsters. Body
shots could penetrate the chitinous armor of the centaurs and inflict
ultimately fatal wounds from internal bleeding, but arrows to the body
could not deliver the shock or stopping power of a lance backed by the
momentum of horse and rider. The archers preferred to target unit
commanders, easily identifiable by their body paint. With the decimation of
its leaders, the centaur attack lost much of its cohesion.

Drew was in his element, whirling his steel globes back and forth, right
and left, up and down, sending them smashing through the centaurs. The
movements of the balls mimicked the emphatic gestures he made with his arms
and his fists. This 'shadow boxing' helped him concentrate. The steel balls
targeted the heads of the creatures, splattering their brains all around,
creating a truly gruesome spectacle.

For all the help they got from the three humans, most of the fighting fell
to the thousand plus giants. They grimly held the line, slashing away with
their swords or stabbing with their spears, implacable and immovable. Their
slingers flung fire globes over the shield wall which fell onto the great
mass of centaur army beyond the line of contact. Hot coals flung at the
their enemies set off a conflagration.

In the shield wall, the giants fought in close order and in pairs with the
shield of the one on the left fending off sabers from that direction, the
shield of the one on the right doing likewise on the other quarter. For
each fighter his universe shrank to the small plot of ground he stood on
and those immediately to front and flanks occupied by friend and foe. The
heat, the sweat, the dust, the smoke and ash, the clang of steel on steel,
and the anguished cries of the wounded and the dying made it seem like the
battlefield was a particularly noisy corner of the infernal regions.

Centaurs did not fight in dressed lines. Their attack was more like a melee
or perhaps a series of duels with the enemy each found immediately to his
front. Centaurs needed a lot of room to effectively swing the sabers held
in each hand. The result of all these factors was that even with superior
numbers on the battlefield, at the forward edge of the battle, where it
really counted, each centaur faced two or even three Frost Giants. One of
them might thrust his spear right into his chest while another cleaved his
head from crown to jawbone with his sword.

At one point it looked like the centaurs might break through the giants'
shield wall despite everything when a couple of giants tripped over the
carcass of a centaur. The centaurs surged into the opening, slashing and
kicking, heedless of their own losses, overwhelming the two front ranks.

Stationed just behind the breach in the line were Arn and Finn -- 'Old Arn
and Young Finn in the Breach' as they would go down in legend. Looking over
at his companion, Arn cried:

"Follow me!"

Arn laid about with his spear using the blade, the point, and the iron cap
on the butt . Arn was one of the biggest of the giants standing nearly nine
foot tall. With his twelve foot spear and long arms, he had a tremendous
reach. Centaurs who came within that reach died. Though Finn was much
smaller he was quicker and more nimble. That helped him to survive and to
protect Arn's flank. He covered his own sector valiantly, stabbing and
slashing for all he was worth.

Seeing the danger, Drew lent a hand. With Arn and Finn locked in close
combat with their foes, Drew was careful to keep his spheres moving
vertically beyond the line held by Arn and Finn and the other giants who
rallied to them. Pounding his fists in a pile driver motion, he plunged
them into the backs and hindquarters of the centaurs and into the earth
beneath. A quick uppercut brought the weapon up again, poised for another
smash.

When Drew had cleared the centaurs pressing most closely on the pair of
giants, he went back to his shadow boxing technique and attacked the main
mass of the enemy.

"By Auden's beard!", Arn cried. "It's like there is an invisible steel
giant out here with us, pummeling the enemy with left hooks and roundhouse
rights. And the centaurs can't do a thing about it."

The gallant stand made by Arn and Finn turned the tide as their comrades
rallied to their side. The Frost Giants paid for their victory with
blood. Arn and Finn both took nasty cuts from the scimitars of the
enemy. They were treated with natural medicine: disinfectant and
stitches. Even with a contingent of Healers from the Commonwealth magical
healing was reserved for those who could not be saved otherwise. No one
could say that they had not earned their title to this land which they
decided to call New Varangia, after Finn and Arn's home district.

For his victory against the centaur wedge, for standing with their shield
wall, and for suggesting the tactics that won them that new homeland, Drew
Altair was made a giant-friend, tattoo and all. Artor reluctantly turned
down the honor explaining it was against policy. The Dread Hands of the
Commonwealth could acknowledge only one loyalty. Lord Zaldor's report to
the Commonwealth government urged that Artor be promoted from journeyman to
become a Dread Hand in full.

Zaldor and Urqaart moved out soon thereafter, heading west, leaving behind
a battalion to secure their line of communications. The Frost Giants who
had stayed behind on the plains made the journey to New Varangia and set to
work building their new country.

Artor stayed on for two months to represent the Commonwealth during the
transition from a military zone of conflict to a civil society of Frost
Giants operating under their own laws. The twins stayed on too, working
with a small force of giants to root out the remaining centaurs. What
looked to be the very last of the creatures proved exasperatingly difficult
to track down. The creature was wise to their tactics and had the advantage
of an intimate knowledge of the lay of the land.

Then Jemsen and Karel got creative. They offered themselves as bait. With
Finn and several other giants providing security the twins found a good
spot at the edge of the forest to trap the centaur. To disguise their own
mild body scent they coated their nude bodies with juices from crushed mint
leaves which grew in the shady understory. Then they got to work, using
pulleys and ropes borrowed from the army engineers to raise one end of a
deadfall high off the ground, positioned above a trail. Finn offered to
help, but they told him this was one job they had to do by themselves. In
the open country just beyond the edge of the forest, they constructed a
hunting blind, then staked out a goat a little ways off.

"Er guys, I know I am just a city boy and certainly no hunter," Drew
ventured, "but won't the centaur get suspicious of a goat staked out in the
open like that. It is rather obvious that creature is bait for a trap."

Jemsen shook his head.

"The goat and the hunting blind are just props. We ourselves are the
bait. Of course the centaur will realize the goat is bait for a trap. And
it will realize that this clump of brush growing on the slope is
artificial, so it must be a hunter's hide."

"Really? It looks pretty natural to me."

"Yes, but it is constructed of plants which grow in the shady understory of
the forest, plants which would never grow out here in bright sunlight. So
the creature will stalk its hunters, creeping down the trail so as to
approach silently, thinking to turn the tables on us."

"Now that is really crafty."

Just before dawn, the centaur tripped the trap. The deadfall fell and broke
its back, the weight pinning the creature in place. It howled horridly. The
twins waited till full light then led Drew, Artor, and Finn and his giants
to the site of the trap. Still very much alive, the centaur tried to slash
at its tormentors. Jemsen open a small sack he was carrying and threw
several of the glass globes at it, covering it with both kinds of
inflammable liquids. He gestured to Karel to finish the job. His brother
lifted a cup of burning coals and tossed them at the centaur which went up
in flames. As the flames burned merrily he flung a final globe at their
victim.

The twins watched the conflagration, their faces mirroring the fierce glee
in their hearts. When the fire died down, the twins turned away. In a low
voice, Jemsen told Artor and Finn:

"That was for Ran."

The next day the twins were their normal cheerful selves, having finally
exorcised their inner demons over the loss of their friend and lover
Randell by the extinction of the cruel species that had slain him and so
many other sentients. They intended to stay on in New Varangia to finish
the initial mapping of the Commonwealth's new dominions, returning with
Artor after his mission ended. Finn would stay on with his people but would
always be their friend and very likely a companion in future adventures.

Drew stayed on for a bit too, in order to get the story of how the giants
were taking possession of their newly conquered land of New Varangia and
what they were doing with it. After two months, all four youths returned to
the Commonwealth capital. Drew's first order of business was to write a
connected account of all that had happened. It would be serialized in the
Intelligencer and bound in book form with woodcuts made from Drew's own
sketches.

Upon their arrival at the capital of the Commonwealth the young journalist
found that the dispatches he had sent via postal rider and heliograph had
established his reputation as a journalist. And though he was too modest to
play up his own role in thwarting the charge of the centaur wedge or his
'shadow boxing' at the battle in the ravine, official bulletins from Lord
Zaldor and General Urqaart lauded him and Artor and the twins for their
vital contributions to the success of the campaign. To the public Drew was
a genuine hero.

"So now I am a hero too. I have to say, Jemsen, that if what I did makes me
a hero, I am in good company: you and Karel, Artor, Oddr and Harald not to
mention Old Arn and Young Finn in the Breach. This calls for a
celebration. Any suggestions?"

"Hmm. Karel, what do you think would be the ideal way to celebrate our
friend's new-found status as a war hero?"

"The best way would be a three way."

"Huh?" Drew exclaimed, then gulped as he realized what he had let himself
in for.

The twins snatched up their diminutive friend and carried the auburn-haired
beauty off to their rooms.

Enough said.

			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 story is one of an occasional series about the further adventures of
the characters introduced in the fantasy novel 'Elf-Boy and Friend's and
published by Nifty Archive. The chief protagonist of the novel, Dahlderon,
elf-boy and druid, will appear in these stories in a supporting rather than
starring role. Each story stands on its own, with the focus on one or just
a few of the original characters plus a few new ones. This story 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 recent 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.