From: elf@halcyon.com (Elf Sternberg)
Newsgroups: alt.sex,alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.furry
Subject: Journal Entry 089 / 0693  [ Thirty Kilos ]
Date: 9 Apr 1996 14:02:44 GMT
Organization: Pendor, UnLtd.
Lines: 657
Message-ID: <4kdqm4$2uo@news.halcyon.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: coho.halcyon.com

Aldea, Virta 16, 0693

    "Whee!"

    I smiled and shook my head.  Kids!  The energy SaraChristine 
has sometimes is astounding, but I guess that's to be expected of 
even a seventeen year-old.  And the way she took to those skis 
still amazes me.  We've only been out here five days and already 
the Diff-2 slopes are no problem for her.  I've been watching her 
schuss over the snow as if she were born on those damned slats.  I 
imagine, however, that Naomi would have found passing a pair of 
skis difficult.  Sara alone was no fun at birth.

    Then again, Sara, being a Mustela, can't weigh more than 35 
kilos, so that might be her advantage.  She does sometimes seem to 
be just flying over moguls, catching air and sailing on to the next 
mound of snow and ice for more.

    I watched her until she was about halfway down the slope, 
adjusted my glasses and followed after her.  There was a time when 
I had sworn never to set foot on a pair of skis again.  But 
technology makes all sorts of changes, and although my face felt 
frostbitten, the rest of me of was comfortably warm, especially the 
feet.  That was the most important thing, the feet.

    The reflexes were coming back to me now, after a few days on 
the slopes, and I was actually enjoying myself out here with my 
granddaughter.  Of course, she insisted on doing this in nothing 
but a pair of skipants, insisting that her dense fur would keep the 
cold off the rest of her.  Which it seemed to be doing quite well; 
I would have been freezing in her place.  Sara has precious little 
bodyfat.

    On the other hand, I was wearing an environment jumpsuit that, 
had I brought a helmet, would have been vacuum-worthy.  I don't 
like the cold and wet, and that was one of the reasons I gave up 
most snow sports.  I still like snow, though, which is why Shardik 
Castle is situated over such a huge weathervane.

    I pushed off with my skis, handling the hill easily and joining 
her at the bottom of the slope.  "You have to be careful, kiddo.  
You could take another fall, like yesterday's."

    "Oh, Granfa," she said, "You worry too much."

    "I'm allowed."

    "And I'm allowed, too.  I'm gonna do Ruins tomorrow."

    A small chill traveled up my spine.  "You will do no such 
thing."

    "Granfa, it's not that hard."

    "Sara, The Ruins of Terra is the hardest slope on this entire 
mountain.  It's virtually a cliff!  I refuse to permit you to 
attempt that hill."

    "The bowl's harder," the said tauntingly.

    "The bowl is not harder.  The bowl is just cluttered because 
it's not a real trail, so...  Sure, you could hit a rock or a tree 
or something, but nowhere in the bowl is there a seventy degree 
drop to fall off of."

    "I want to do it.  And I'm going to."  She pulled her right ski 
around and poled off in a huff, heading down the connecting trails 
for the SDisk back to the top.  I followed after her and was 
relieved when I  saw that she had waited for me.

    I've been told that I'm too damned indulgent, that I let my 
kids get away with too much.  But if she really wanted to do the 
Ruins, she was going to, with or without me, and it was better if 
she did them with me.  As we crossed onto the LASDisk I said 
"T-three."

    We teleported to the top of peak three, which from the base 
lodge would have been the leftmost mountain.  The tallest of the 
three, it was the only one with two different sets of trails, one 
of which required that you ski completely around the back of the 
peak and then down into the trails for peak two.  The other set, 
known as The Blacks, led down to a single SDisk.  All of the Blacks 
were considered dangerous, the most treacherous slopes on the 
entire mountain range.  And dead center of The Blacks lay The Ruins 
of Terra.

    "What are we doing here?" Sara asked, shivering.  Peak three's 
arrival SDisk was just above the tree-line, and the cold air 
cresting over the summit was finally digging under her fur.  It's a 
pretty mountain against the magnificent blue sky, especially with 
the wind pulling the snow over the top in a constant wall of 
powered white.

    We stepped aside to make room for a pair of Felinzi who wisely 
had chosen to wear jackets.  "You said you wanted to do Ruins.  
Well, let's go do it."

    "Are you sure?"  I suppressed a smile when I heard the "I'm 
not" in the way she said that.

    "Yes.  I at least want to be there, so somebody will know where 
your body is when you get killed."

    "Oh, Granfa."  She stuck her pink tongue out at me.  "You worry 
too much," she repeated.

    "With good reason!" I called after her as she headed down into 
The Blacks.  With a sigh, I poled down after her.  When I caught up 
to her, she was standing at the head of The Ruins, looking down.  
For the first time that day, her face reflected uncertainty.  
"Well," I said, "You said you wanted to conquer the hardest hill in 
all of Lossumbo, and here it is."

    "It didn't look this steep in the graphics."  Her sleek Lutra 
form leaned over the break in the slope, looking carefully.

    "Never does," I said, following her gaze.  It nearly is a cliff 
for the first forty meters or so, almost straight down.  Takes the 
edge off your skis rather quickly.  Then the slope eases, only to 
become icy and uneven.  The Ruins of Terra is an "ungroomed" slope.  
"Ready?"

    "You're going to do it?" she asked, incredulous.

    "I've done Ruins before."  More than a century ago, I thought, 
but did not let her know that.  "I'm going to watch you go first."

    She took a final glance downward, then pushed in at an angle.  
The first bit of fun came when she had to make her turn before the 
cliff- face ended.  At one point her skis would be pointed straight 
down.

    She made the turn, but not easily.  Near the end of the turn 
she flailed for balance.  I smiled and headed out in the other 
direction, so that we'd essentially be 'stitching' our way down the 
hillside, meeting only where our ski-trails crossed in the middle.  
When we hit the moguls, she took off, however, completely ignoring 
me and sailing downwards, playing with air.  Moguls seem to be her 
strong point; she reached the bottom of the hill at a speed that 
had my heart pounding.  I took my time getting there.  She smiled 
at me and said, "How was that?"

    "Not bad," I said praisingly.  "You didn't seem to enjoy the 
cliff, though."

    "That was no fun," she admitted.  "But when I got to the 
moguls, whee!"

    I laughed.  "I'm glad you liked it."

    "Hey, can we get to the SDisk?  I want to try The Hurlant 
next."

    I sighed.  "SaraChristine, for your fifth day on skis, are you 
sure you want to play in The Blacks all day?"

    "Sure, why not?" she said, smiling and pushing off again.

    I sighed.  "Because I'm getting to be an old man?" I said under 
my breath before following after her.  I was having trouble 
catching up to her... she was really speeding down the easier 
hills.  She disappeared around a corner.

    I turned the corner myself and she was nowhere to be seen.  
This section of trail was wide... there was no way she could have 
been that far enough ahead of me to be out of sight.  Not without 
rockets..  I pushed my skis left, coming to a stop.  "Sara?"

    There was no reply.  "SARA?" I shouted.  I scanned the large 
expanse of trail where I stood.  There were no other skiers around 
me.  I found a single ski trail leading off the path and into wide 
stand of trees to my right.  I poled over and followed the trail 
into the woods, calling.  "Sara!"

    "Grandfa?"   Her voice was weak and full of pain, in front of 
me, somewhere.  "I'm cold."

    I followed the trail a little further and found her.  I could 
still see the open slope from where she lay, propped up against a 
tree.  Still, something about her looked.... wrong.  With a quick 
flip of the locks I was free of the skis and ran over to her.  "Are 
you okay?"

    "I'm hurt...oh!  My leg... I think, maybe, I broke it?"

    "How bad does it hurt?"

    "Really bad," she said, plaintively.  There were tears in her 
eyes.  It must have hurt.  She hadn't even cried when I'd pulled 
one of her cubbing teeth.

    "This one?" I asked.

    "Yeh," she said, panting hard.  Her eyes were wide and 
frightened.    
Those damned Mustela Lutra eyes.

    "Sara," I said, "talk to me.  Stay awake.  You might go into 
shock, and out here that's not a good idea.  Can you hear me?"

    "I hear you, Granfa.  It hurts!"

    "I know, I know sweetheart.  Just breathe easy.  Take deep, 
slow breaths.  Got that?"

    "I understand," she said, putting a hand to her chest and 
counting her breaths.  Dammit, Mustel legs are not supposed to be 
easy to break... the bones are at least as heavy as humans', and I 
should know.  I figured that, being so short, with that bent-knee 
gait, they would need a heavier bone structure.

    "Take it easy."  There was snow all through her fur- she was 
going to be losing body heat fast.  I had to get her to a lodge as 
soon as possible.  I pulled out my pocket knife and located the leg 
she had indicated, slicing along the length of the waterproof pants 
she wore.  "What are you doing?" she asked.

    "Checking for blood.  Okay, good."  I put my hands on her leg 
gently... she whimpered, fearing the pain I might be about to 
inflict, but what I was actually doing was turning on the 
diagnostic sensors I had installed in my hands all those centuries 
ago and had never bothered to remove.  "Sara, you've got one clean 
break, in the thigh."  The thigh on a Mustel is very short; I moved 
up.  Nothing.  Moving down, I found something else.  "You've also 
got a slight splinter in your kneecap.  You must have hit the tree 
really hard.  What happened?"

    "I don't know.  I hit a patch of ice and lost my left ski.  I 
couldn't control where I was going and I ran into the woods."

    "'Ran into' is a good description," I said.  "Didn't bring a 
radio with you, did you?"

    She shook her head.  "Neither did I," I said.  I cued the 
biocybe in my head, seriously in doubt as to the presence of an AI 
cell site anywhere near here, the middle of nowhere.  Brainstatic.  
She was starting to shiver, and her eyes were glazing slightly.  
"Okay," I said,  stripping off my jacket and handing it to her.  
"Put this on.  I'm gonna have to carry you out of here.  It's going 
to hurt, but we need to get you into warmth fast."  She nodded.  
"Brave girl," I said.

    I returned to my skis, snapping them on quickly and easing over 
to her.  "Ready?"

    "I think so," she said.  I bent down and eased my hands under 
her knees and shoulders.

    "On three," I said.  "One, two-!" I hoisted her into the air.  
She gave a low, painful whimper right next to my ear, then began 
sobbing, gently.

    "Okay?" I asked.

    "No," she said, shivering.  "Get me home, quickly, please?"

    I nodded and headed out of the woods, slowly and carefully.  
Without my poles and with added weight, I was having trouble 
navigating, and I didn't want to think of what would happen if I 
dropped her.  She put her arms around my neck and held on tight 
while I snowplowed most of the way to the SDisk.  When we hit it I 
said, "Lodge."

    We blinked to directly outside the lodge.  The first thing out 
of my mouth was "Medical emergency!  Help!"

    We were almost instantly surrounded by people taking her out of 
my arms, telling her she was going to be okay, easing her into a 
stretcher and whisking her into the infirmary.  The head of the 
team was a Ssphynx who identified himself as Leoni.  "Don't worry.  
We'll have her on her feet in about a week."

    "That bad?" I asked.

    "Hard to say," he admitted.  "But Mustel bones take a long time 
to knit... a lot of mass to crossknit with, you know."

    "I know," I said, smiling.

    "Oh... I'm sorry, Vatare'... I didn't mean to imply..."

    "Leoni," I said.  "I'm standing out here without my jacket, 
slowly freezing to death.  Go take care of your patient and allow 
me to go and get something warm into me."

    "Of course... I'm sorry."

    "Leoni?"

    "Sir?"

    "Don't call me sir.  And stop apologizing."

    He smiled and gave me a mock salute.  "If that's the way you 
want it.  Should I tell you when she's ready to go?"

    "'T'would be nice," I said.

    "Later, then."  He ran towards the infirmary.  At first I had 
wondered about a Ssphynx as part of a ski rescue team, but I 
realized that he would probably use a gravflitter to get around the 
mountain and on the ground his running on all fours probably gave 
him more stability.

    I wandered into the lodge, grabbing a cup of hot chocolate and 
downing it quickly, ignoring the fact that I was burning my tongue.  
I was cold!   I got a second cup, allowing this one to cool a 
little before drinking it.  I sat by the fireplace and waited.

    A couple of hours passed before the Ssphynx wandered into the 
lodge waiting area and said "Shardik?"

    "Hmm?"

    "She's ready.  I think you should pick her up.  We had to 
secure the leg from thigh to calf.  We didn't have to wrap the hip, 
fortunately, but she's going to be off her feet for at least two 
weeks."

    I whistled low.  "Ouch."

    "Yes," he replied.  "There was significant damage to the femur.  
It looks like crushing damage.  I think she cracked the leg against 
the tree and then dropped onto her knee, ramming the two broken 
bones together and snapping that splinter in her cap."

    I shuddered.  "Where is she now?"

    "In the infirmary.  C'mon, I'll let you collect her."

    "Just a sec," I said, putting my hand on his shoulder.  "I 
think I should get her a jacket first."

    He nodded.  "That was yours, wasn't it?  It seemed a little 
large for her."

    I nodded, smiling.  We stopped in the skishop to pick up a 
jacket sized for Mustela before making our way to the infirmary.  
As I walked in the first thing I heard was "Granfa!"

    "Hiya sweetheart," I said, hugging her close.  "How's it feel?"

    "Hurts," she said.  "But not as bad as before."  She looked up 
at me, her black eyes glittering.  "Thank you."

    "I was serious when I said 'body.'  You could have been 
killed."

    "But I wasn't on Ruins!" she insisted as I helped her into the 
gravchair.

    "But you forgot that you were in the Blacks.  That trail looked 
easy, but you forgot that it's not groomed and so could have rocks, 
branches, and ice.  You hit the ice and lost control."

    She nodded.  I leaned over and kissed her on the nose.  "You'll 
be skiing again in two weeks."

    She pouted, wrinkling her wide, black nose.  "I don't think I 
ever wanna ski again."

    "Oh, pooh, sweetheart.  Of course you wanna ski again.  It's 
too much fun!  Just remember to be careful next time and take 
things slowly."

    She nodded.  "Can we go home?"

    I nodded and we teleported back to the Castle.  "Hiya, Dave."

    "Hello, Ken.  Aaden has not called since you last checked; he 
and Moclellan appear to have extended their outing several days.  
P'nyssa will be home in a few hours."

    "What time is it locally?" I asked.  The Lossumbo mountain 
range is in a different time zone from the Castle, and with SDisks 
making the change nearly instantaneous, that's a common question.

    "Thirteen twelve," Dave replied casually.  "Would you like me 
to make dinner?"

    I thought about it; I hadn't had Dave cook me anything in over 
year.  He's actually a reasonable cook.  "What have you got in 
mind?"

    "Sara?" Dave asked.

    "Lasagne," Sara replied.  I stifled a laugh as she said it; 
Lasagne seems to be the favorite food of the kids around here.  I 
could never figure it out.  But I've made it so often myself that 
I've got my recipe memorized.

    "It will be ready in one hour," Dave replied.  From the kitchen 
rose the sounds of pots clattering.  Dave has always had something 
of a showy personality, for an AI.  He didn't have to make pots 
clatter and clank, but he wanted to.  And he sometimes has a nasty 
sense of humor.

    Sara directed her chair to take her to her bedroom, and I 
followed her.  The number of people actually living in the Castle 
was at an all-time low; most people had found the old cube a 
depressing place to live in when P'nyssa and I had been declared 
missing, and had moved on, finding new places to call their own.

    I was grateful that Salta and Naomi had accepted my invitation 
to move in; Naomi had been one of the few early Mustela who I 
seemed to get along with.  I still haven't figured out why it is, 
but some of my  species didn't mesh well with my personality when 
they were decanted, making choices and interactions between them 
and the rest of Pendor difficult.  My frustration with Dolphins and 
particularly the Ssphynx had inspired me to try and avoid that 
particular mindset in the Mustela.  It hadn't worked.

    Inside, Sara disappeared into the bedroom.  I heard some 
clattering from within, followed by "Granfa!"

    "You okay, sweetheart?"

    "Help me."

    Sighing, I descended into the bedroom.  She was in the 
bathroom, sitting on the floor of the shower.  "What's wrong?"

    "I can't get up!"  She pouted.

    "But what are you doing down there?"

    "I want to get washed up, but I fell down and I can't reach the 
shower!"

    I smiled and reached up, handing her the showerhead.  "Sara, 
would you like me to wash you?"

    "Would you?" she asked, her eyes lighting up like twin beacons.

    "Of course I would," I said, indulgently, as always.  I turned 
on the water and adjusted the temperature until she said it was 
perfect, then began massaging her gently with it.  Mustela Lutra, 
being an otter variant, have very dense fur and water's not 
supposed to get underneath it, but in Sara's case her father wasn't 
a Lutra but a Zebbara variant, having a very soft, almost downy 
fur.  The combination in Sara was visually beautiful, but she did 
tend to get some rather disturbing skin infections.  We had it 
mostly under control nowadays; part of it was just her going 
through puberty.

    I grabbed the medicinal soap we used for her and began rubbing 
it softly into her back.  There's something slightly disturbing to 
me about fondling, even functionally, someone as small as Sara, or 
most Mustela for that matter.  I haven't figured that out either, 
although I feel sure it's something like what happened between 
Karen and I, this time the 'difference' being a matter of size.  Am 
I afraid of "breaking" her because she's so small, or am I afraid 
of seeing her as immature for the same reason?  I don't know.

    Unaware of the thoughts going through my head, Sara just leaned 
forward as I soaped her completely, feeling the stiff, fine fur 
sliding under my fingertips.  She was chittering gently, her eyes 
closed.  I scrubbed the top of her head, taking care not to get 
soap into her ears or eyes, and worked my way further down her 
thick neck.  As my hands stroked her back and worked around to her 
front, I hugged her tightly.  "I'm glad you're okay, Sara.  You had 
me so worried."

    "I'm sorry, Granfa.  I guess I should listen to you next time."

    "Will you?"

    "I... I'll try," she said with that earnestness that all 
adolescents seem to have.  She tilted her head up and turned it 
around, demonstrating the incredible flexibility that most of the 
Mustela have, and gave me a kiss on my neck.  Then she giggled.

    "What's so funny?"

    "You're getting a hard-on."

    I hadn't heard that particular phrase in so long it took me a 
whole second to figure out what she meant.  "I am?" I asked, 
looking down.  Sure enough, one had snuck up on me.  "Sorry."

    "That's okay," she said.  "Would you like to do something with 
it?"

    "Like what?"

    "You could make love to me."

    "What, right here in the shower?"

    "Why not?  The shower's one of your design, made for that, 
remember?"  She grinned wide.  She turned the rest of her body 
around and sat down in my lap.  "Is something wrong?" she asked, 
reading the expression on my face.

    "I don't know," I admitted.  "Hard as I am, I feel kinda 
strange even thinking about making love with you, Sara; I guess 
it's because you're so small, I'm afraid of 'breaking' you."

    "You can't break me, Granfa.  Well, no more than I'm already 
broken," she smiled, rapping her cast with her knuckles.  "Come on; 
before it fades away," she said, indicating 'it' by reaching out 
and stroking my cock with her paws, making sure it wasn't about to 
fade away  immediately.

    "It's what you want, right?"

    "Would I be asking you if I didn't, Granfa?"  Her eyes were 
full of lust.  It would have been hard to resist even if I had 
wanted to.

    I smiled.  "I guess not."  I reached up over to the small inset 
rack where the soaps, shampoos and things are held, and realized 
that I wasn't in my bathroom.  I chuckled.

    "What's so funny?" she asked.

    I shook my head to marshal my thoughts.  "There's something 
about my shower, I think, that illustrates just perfectly what kind 
of people P'nyssa, Aaden and I are."

    "Like what?"

    "Like the fact that in my shower, along with all this stuff 
there's also a bottle of lubricant."

    She giggled.  "I should have thought of that," she said, 
smiling.  She grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand between her legs.  
"Feel.  I think I'm wet enough."

    "I think you are, too," I said, sliding my fingers along her 
cunt.  She chirred softly as I did, and the lips of her pussy felt 
small in my hand as I cupped her mons.  "So, what's a good position 
for a Mustela with a broken leg?"

    "Well," she said, her twin black eyes smiling, "Since my leg is 
bent at the knee, the best position, I think, would be from behind, 
don't you?"  She turned over onto her good knee and slowly eased 
herself over until she was kneeling in front of the sitting bench 
on the far wall of the showerstall.  "Like this."

    "Just like that, huh?" I said, coming up behind her and 
caressing her back.  She sighed and laid her head down on the 
bench.

    "Just like that," she sighed as I pressed my insistent erection 
against her full and puffy cunt.  She was wet, inside and out, as 
my cock slid into her, nestling deep against the back wall of her 
cervix.  And I was so lucky she was that wet, because her tiny size 
extended all the way down between her legs; her cunt was tighter 
than anything I could recall in my long and experienced memory.

    I leaned over and kissed the top of her head.  "Feel good?" I 
asked.

    "Mm-hmm," she replied, pushing back against my hips until a 
small high-pitched groan escaped her.  "I like that kind of depth."

    "Really?"

    "Really," she sighed.  I began stroking back and forth, and was 
a little surprised at how steady she seemed to be; then I saw that 
her claws were extended into the padding of the bench, holding on 
as we made love.

    I slowed down and watched as my cock stroked in and out of her 
cunt; it *was* perverse, the sight of her small body striking up 
against the bench with my every thrust, and the chirrs of pleasure 
escaping her muzzle were in some ways the only thing convincing me 
to keep going; that and the incredibly wonderful sensation of her 
tight, hot cunny sucking my cock in with every gently thrust.

    "Gods, Sara, I love you," I said gently as I leaned over.

    "Then do that harder," she sighed as she turned her head around 
to kiss me.

    My favorite kind of female; one who tells me what she wants.  
She was small enough that I could join her in leaning over onto the 
bench.  I could put my head right next to hers if I wanted, and I 
did.  We looked at each other and I smiled; she smiled back.  
"Ready?"

    "Yeah."

    "Good!" I snarled as I began stroking her hard, fucking her 
without  pause.  I had no intention of being gentle, and the moans 
coming from her were somewhere between pleasure and pain, but as 
long as she didn't voice a complaint I wasn't about to slow down.  
Our bodies slammed together, and soft grunts came from her on my 
every downstroke.  "I'm getting closer," I said.

    "So am I," she said through clenched teeth.  "Hold out for me."

    "I will," I whispered, fucking her so very hard I was afraid of 
crushing her.  The shower filled with steam that may have been our 
own doing; I was starting to overheat, but I didn't give a care if 
I did.  I wasn't going to fail her; I was going to give her what 
she wanted.

    My cock began to respond on it's own, swelling with pleasure 
and approaching climax.  "Sara..."

    "I'm right there, Granfa..." she hissed.  I gave her another 
hard stroke, and another, demanding my own orgasm stay down.  
Faster, harder, and then this quiet squeal began to come from her, 
building within her, and finally it burst out of her, echoing 
throughout the shower stall.  Her body shivered and quaked 
underneath me, and I let my own climax loose, joining her scream 
with my own as I came.

    I sat back onto my thighs; she followed suit, sitting next to 
me, positioning her broken leg carefully.  I smiled and said "I 
hope I lived up to your standards."

    "Oh, Granfa, you did more than that!" she said, leaning over to 
hug me; again, her arms barely reached around my torso.  "I love 
you, Granfa."

    "I love you too, sweetheart.  But I think we should get cleaned 
up now."

    "Okay," she said, her eyes alight again and a big smiled on her 
face.  "Thank you."

    "You're welcome," I replied as I soaped her body gently, 
cleaning off the lubricant and semen and whatever else from between 
her legs.  "We should be careful not to get too much water into 
that cast.  We have enough trouble with you and those skin 
infections."

    "I know," she replied.  "I'll just force some air down there 
afterwards.  It'll be okay."

    "Okay," I smiled.  "You're the boss."

    "Uh-huh," she said.

    We cleaned and dried off, using a tight-nozzled hair dryer to 
force air down her cast. 

    We wandered back into the Castle, and dinner.  Dave was, as 
always,  the perfect cook.  And I must have forced nearly a pound 
of the stuff into her.  She needed calories to knit bone.  And 
regain her strength.

--
"Journal Entry 089 / 0693  [ Thirty Kilos ]"
The Journal Entries of Kennet R'yal Shardik, et. al., and Related Tales
are copyright (C) 1989-1995 Elf Mathieu Sternberg.  Redistribution of
this work for profit is reserved to the author.  Redistribution by
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Any redistribution must include this copyright notice intact.
--
Elf Sternberg            FUCK THE CDA!       (Cohen vs. California, 1971)
elf@halcyon.com          Nos numerus sumus et fruges consumere nati.
Public key available     http://www.halcyon.com/elf/index.html