Date: Tue, 6 May 2014 12:02:48 +0000
From: Beau Fryer <beaufryer@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: The War of Elves and Men

Well it's been over four years since I've been in the world and I have
loved being back! I will be writing much more regularly now you have my
word. Now basic disclosures apply, over 18's only and please bear in mind
that although this book will feature erotica it is more story based than
masturbation led!

If you have any comments/suggestions or random abuse feel free to email me
at Beaufryer@hotmail.co.uk

Enjoy!



`Oh Elstar please stay out for just one more, I beg you' said Orodreth, he
tugged at Elstar's arm then gestured with his free arm to the long avenue
just behind them, laughter and music spilled onto the wide street,
invitingly, it sounded a world away from the closeness of the royal box in
the opera where they went for quick tumble as it was one of the few places
he could go without a chaperone. Elstar looked longingly at the palatial
coach ahead of them, it promised safety and sobriety and it's just out of
reach, the glass guard smiled as he opened the door, the smile reminded him
that it's almost midnight.

`Well I really should be getting back to the palace, maybe we could
continue there?' said Elstar as he gently pulled away Orodreth, he risked a
side-glance and briefly caught his polite smile as he turned away, it
didn't look like the pearly genuine smile that he usually got.

 `What back to that stuffy old place? Where's the fun in that?' said
Orodreth as if they were going back to a morgue. The palace although not
lacking in comfort or entertainment was always there, it was far too big to
go anywhere. On reflection Elstar realised that he hadn't been out like
this in ages, he felt kind of thirsty come to think about it.

`If you want to go back to the palace that's fine, I suppose I could just
carry on by myself' Elstar was suitably impressed, if he was to admit to
any weakness then he'd probably say that he's plagued by fierce bouts of
FOMO or as the rest of the world would say Fear-of-missing-out. He knew
that if he went to the palace then Orodreth would brag about how much fun
it was for the next week or so and he'd be bored in the palace wondering
just how much fun he'd missed out on

`I guess we could stay out for a little while' said Elstar as he leaned
into him with a suggestive smile. Orodreth nodded and said

It'd be rude not to'

`It's just that well you've seen me in some deplorable states' he though
back to the Festival of the Fae, when he'd promised to be back at midnight
like a good prince but somehow, despite his noble intentions he ended up
stumbling in at the crack of dawn, missing a shoe and trying to grope one
of the more attractive footmen; Elvish Festivals are potent and can do that
to even the most respectable of people or so he'd been told after.

`I'll look after you, on my honour' said Orodreth and Elstar felt his hand
being gently squeezed, all he could think was `Wasn't that what you said at
the festival before egging him to drink copious amounts of that honeyed
wine that the foreigners were guzzling like water' nevertheless he squeezed
his hand and smiled.

`Oh alright then, just the one' he beckoned over the glass guard who opened
the coach door, tonight's chaperone. He quickly told him that they were
going to frequent some of the bars down the West End, a long avenue long
famous for its decadent bars, ruinously priced drinks and the downright
debauchery of its patrons. The guard answered with small sharp nods and
shouted a few words to the coach driver. They didn't have far to go as the
opera house was foolishly/strategically situated at the junction of the
legendary West End. The spacious avenue was lit by the countless
illuminated bar signs and suggestive advertisements that must have cost a
small fortune to get a wizard to do, that said they charged enough for the
drinks.  One of the bars looked good, it understood architecture reasonably
well and nailed the essential three C's of a good building columns,
cornices and costly marble. The gold letters above the door said The Old
Library, Elstar surmised that it sounded nice enough and pointed to his
chaperone `In there looks pretty good' he had to shout to be heard over the
live music pumping from the venue. Inside it looked well like an old
library turned into an alchemy shop; with all the massive bookcases fully
laden with interesting bottles safely thrown to the back of the building
and protected by a bronze bar that was under siege by a healthy crowd. He
waited in the line patiently as his fellow patrons ignored the cue and
pushed in front at the slightest opportunity. Elstar kept his chin high and
glared at the bar-elf whenever someone pushed past him, the glare screamed
`What are you going to do about this' and the bar-elf's impassive face said
`Nothing' he was jabbed in the ribs by a short elf who decided to wear his
beverage instead of drinking it.

` `S happy hour you know?' the damp creature treated him to a
conspiratorial wink.

`Ah. . . Um. . . Thank you, I will remember that' said Elstar, what did he
mean happy hour? He forced a smile; if it's happy hour then it's probably
best to look happy he reasoned.

`Are you okay? You've gone red see' slurred the little beast who pointed at
his cheek.  He looked at Orodreth for support but the man looked just as
lost, he gaped like a feasting whale. His chaperone and saviour muscled in
and took them to a table, it was apart from the other tables and a velvet
robe reminded the masses to keep away. Orodreth returned with a bottle
shaped like a skull, then he realised that it was in fact a skull, covered
in gold leaf.

`What in blazes is that thing?' gasped Elstar as he pushed his chair away
from the table and stood up.

`It's a drink, the most expensive one they have' replied Orodreth trying to
mimic the skull with a demonic grin. He proceeded to put two crystal cut
tumblers on the table, each one sounded strangely angelic as it hit the
wooden table.

`Well in that case it's brilliant' replied Elstar as he poured for them.
They clinked glasses and chugged, Elstar swallowed hard and forced it down
his throat. His first sensation was relief, it wasn't that bad! The second
was a cold burn that tasted of cinnamon and peppermint as he exhaled; it
was beautifully refreshing he could drink it all night. . . .

The skull hit the floor and smashed, it was as dry as a bone.  `Oops'
giggled Elstar as he fumbled with the fragments, he hoped it wasn't real
bone but he was beyond caring. Orodreth was in the bathroom, most likely
vomiting all over the place; that boy can't handle his liquor. His
chaperone took the fragments of his hands carefully, he was then gently but
firmly escorted back to his seat and his request for more drink fell on
deaf ears. He was considering bribing the guard but thought better of
it. Orodreth returned with a waxen pale face and glazed shiny eyes.

`Time to go home little prince' said his chaperone as he easily carried
Elstar like a small child, his armour was as smooth and illustrious as
opals, Elstar placed his forehead on his shoulder, it was wonderfully cool
and kept the throbbing in his head at bay. The coach was there not four
feet away, its safety and comfort now highly desirable. He felt another
guard hold him up as they helped him up the steps to the coach; he slipped
and fell, laughing as the guards grudgingly helped him back up. He turned
looking for Orodreth when suddenly the world lit up, blindingly him for a
second, like a flash of lightening and then it faded as quickly as it came.

`Bollocks! He just took a fucking picture! Seize that man!' roared his
chaperone; the man's nostrils became huge as he sucked a great lungful of
air.

`Shit' swore Elstar venomously as a soldier packed him into the coach and
bodily threw Orodreth in with him. His chaperone kindly checked that he was
comfortably seated.

`Are you in my prince?' Elstar nodded vaguely then he opened the window and
said to the driver `Now get him to the palace at once and take him through
the Gilded Gate, we don't want anybody else seeing him like this.' The
coach slid into action and the bright lights of the West End blurred past
as the coach made for sanctuary at the Celestial Palace. The cobble streets
made it a bumpy ride, he could feel every bump and he seriously wished he
followed Orodreth's lead and vomited earlier, the thought of being sick
made him wretch.

`I'm going to be sick' wailed Elstar, his chaperone cringed away from him
but offered his helmet whilst not looking at him. Elstar took it gratefully
and filled it until it was overflowing with one tear inducing wretch, next
to him Orodreth gagged noisily.  `Thank you' whispered Elstar as he gave
the man his helmet back, he settled back into his chair fitfully the guard
wordlessly opened the window and emptied it into the street, he didn't
Elstar noticed, put it back on.

* * *

Elstar opened his eyes with a start; sunlight stung his sensitive eyes. He
woke up with no recollection of how he got there so he proceeded to check
that all his extremities were still there, diagnostics confirmed that he
was whole. Where the hell was he? He was far too warm to be in a snow drift
that's for sure, besides it was still summer, he recalled
hazily. Everything was so damn blurry he thought then silver thread and
small pearls solidified before his eyes, ah so he was in bed then and more
importantly in his own bed. His head ached, it wouldn't kill him though. He
grinned morbidly at the thought confident in the knowledge that if drink
could actually kill an elf then his grandmother would have died practically
aeons ago. With tremendous will power he heaved out of the silken cocoon
he'd drunkenly created in the night. He tried to get out of his bed, and
this wasn't helped by the vast enormity of it at one point it had fitted
several nubile men into its silky depths.

He braced himself as he gingerly put a foot on the marble floor. It was
cold, just as he expected it was part of his morning/early afternoon
ritual. He glanced around his cavernous room, scanning it for that dreadful
butler and fortunately he was alone minus the statuary and portraits, he
rubbed his hands together, what he needed was a pot of tea.

The huge doors at far end of his chamber burst open, they were prone to
drama. How they opened without ropes and a team of oiled servants he'd
never know, as sadly structural engineering wasn't one of his strongest
points. His father had this morbid fear of peasant revolts and sagely built
the doors accordingly, it could withstand an army if they didn't use the
secret servant door.  A tall white figure came carrying a try so level it
looked like the edge of a sword. Sadly it could only be Celso Savera, the
ancient butler who came, not just with the palace, but with the Monarchy
itself. He was a cruel and imperious servant, joyless and ruthless. All
forms of entertainment seemed to wither and then die before those coal eyes
that are feared throughout the palace. Elstar looked at the man's razor
thin lips that seemed to be tightly pursed sliced any attempt of
joviality. The rest of his face was cold and immovable, his forehead
probably hadn't moved in centuries. His powdered wig was immaculately kept,
any errant hair tortured and thrown back amongst its brethren. To think
Celso, Prince of hell served as a butler is some form of an in-joke between
the gods, Elstar saw him as both his jailer and his warden.

`Good morning, my prince! Let's get some light in here!' said Celso with a
smirk, Elstar was convinced that his servant was shouting purely because he
guessed that Elstar was hung-over. The shutters were thrust open and pure
unadulterated sunlight charged in booted him in the face.

``As my prince wishes, I have arranged for a copy of the Observed for you
to flick through whilst you break your fast' the blinds were closed and the
light once again was limited to bearable levels. The mornings tended to be
the worst but hopefully he'd sort himself by the afternoon, a light
breakfast would certainly help.

Celso placed the platinum serving tray on the breakfast table near the
balcony doors and retreated a few feet, probably to avoid catching his
hangover. He hobbled over to the smell of aromatic summer tea and the
honeyed whiff of croissants. The tea paraphernalia is laid out like
surgical apparatus; even the sugar cubes formed a stepped Mylian
pyramid. Celso clearly has too much time on those manicured hands of his.

`Why are you so cheerful this morning?' said Elstar suddenly wary,
something was amiss somewhere. His butler fidgeted with one of his sleeves
and then waved a pale hand dismissively

`Do I need a reason to be in a good mood?' he replied.

`Well yes, it's most unlike you' a knot in his belly formed, it was
probably just his hangover, he lifted the tea cup and smelled it delicately
and Celso nodded his approval with a slight dip of his head which was
probably all his neck could manage. Elstar put it down daintily and Celso
offered what on a less frozen face would have passed for an encouraging
smile. Elstar smiled back easily then flung three sugar cubes in, ignored
the tea equipment and stirred it with the wrong end of a spoon. He was
rewarded with a disappointed sigh from Celso, chilly as an arctic breeze.

`More tea to go with your sugar? My prince' Celso moved the china teapot
and that's when he saw it. His heart pounded in his chest and his headache
returned with a vengeance.

`Bastards!  Filthy parasitic leaches, I . . I'll!' burn their printing
office to the ground and have their heads for treason. He wanted to tear
their throats out.

`Oh dear it's not the nobility again my prince?' said Celso as he
endeavoured to look shocked, a most tiresome and empty facade.

`No it's the press. It's not fair Celso! It's not bloody fair! All I did
was drink a little, oh alright a lot but it's not like I was out hurting
anybody and now I've been vilified' his clenched fists trembled as he
studied the newspaper. On the front page was a still damp picture of him
being shamefully held up by two Glass Guards as he staggered out of one of
the royal coaches, his eyes were half lidded and his attire was completely
dishevelled, the circlet that he infrequently wore was on the floor at his
feet. The picture was worth a thousand words, all of them damning.

`Oh no what does the caption say? I'd avoid the political cartoon if I were
you' said Celso, he still managed to sound bored, Elstar wanted to split in
his face. He tore his eyes from his shame and looked at the title, he
laughed mirthlessly

`Pissed Prince Wrecked on the West End' It also says `Hammered Heir's
bender in elitist club' Good grief!' he threw the paper at his servant
stroppily; his hands felt very cold so he wrapped them around his
stomach. Saliva flooded his mouth and then he violently vomited all over
the tray, ruining his croissants. He didn't attempt to hide the mischievous
grin that crossed his lips as Celso reared like an indignant flamingo and
bellowed for a servant lower in the hierarchy to clean it up.

Elstar flinched as there was a banging on the door; he looked at his bed
and wondered if he could hide under it for a few days.

`That'll be the door, I wonder who this could be . . . `said Celso as he
opened the door just wide enough for him to see the caller

`Good afternoon, how can I help?' Celso polished voice was dripping with
honey, Elstar retreated further into his room.

`I'm looking for Elstar' said a familiar voice. Elstar did his absolute
best not to whimper; all elves have terrific hearing.

`Wait outside and I'll check to see if he's still in bed' the door was
politely closed. Elstar swallowed and shook his head, he mouthed `No' and
clutched at his beautiful dressing gown. Celso slowly crossed his arms in
an exaggerated motion, his cold coal eyes looked down at him as he said

`Oh yes he's quite awake, you can come in' he was such a wretched
creature. The door opened and Elstar braced himself hugging the aromatic
tea like it possessed healing powers.