CHAPTER FOUR
*all characters are over the age of eighteen years*
***ARAN -- One Year Ago, Emerin Forest Chapel***
Aran's eyes shot open as his bedroom door slammed against the stone wall. Outside, the window showed a violet sky dotted with myriad stars; it was not yet dawn.
"Up!" Elaina roared. She was planted in the doorway, dressed in a simple coat and breeches with knee-high leather boots.
Aran's covers flew off as he leapt out of bed, his heart racing. What was happening? Was there some emergency? He even forgot to cover his privates with his hands. "What is it?" He asked frantically. "What's wrong?"
"You're training has begun!" She barked, her emerald eyes boring into him like augurs.
This was a different woman to the one he'd met yesterday, surely. Where was the feminine goddess that had entertained him with dinner and stories last evening?
"Get dressed and meet me in the practice yard," Elaina ordered. "Your lessons begin immediately." At that, she strode off down the hallway, her boot heels echoing on the stone floor.
Catching his breath, Aran stood frozen for a moment, wondering what in the world was happening, when a sharp, "NOW!" from Elaina launched him into action. Pulling his clothes on as fast as he could, he hurried downstairs, hoping he could find the practice yard quickly enough.
*
The first day had been something out of a nightmare. Elaina had worked him to exhaustion in just the first half-hour of teaching him how to swing a club. By sunrise, he'd been unable to lift his shield-arm to defend himself, let alone hold off Elaina's constant attacks. She'd punished every mistake he'd made, and he'd made plenty; he was a mass of bruises and aches and pains.
That was just the early morning. By mid-morning, Elaina had marched an already bone-weary Aran off into the woods to teach him to hunt. He'd been extremely unsuccessful, barely able to lift the short bow let alone draw it, and therefore missing every target he'd aimed at. Elaina, however, who looked as if she'd done nothing all morning, despite have worked as hard as Aran in the practice yard, took down a healthy boar, which she said would feed them for many days to come.
Then she'd made Aran drag the dead beast back to the Chapel, and it had taken him the rest of the day to lug the two-hundred-odd-pound carcass barely half a mile back home. Once back at the Chapel, Aran had collapsed face-first to the ground, only to have Elaina's boots appear in front of him, followed by a set of knives rolled up in a leather sleeve.
"Get up," Elaina had demanded quietly. "Pick up the knives, and follow my instructions."
The next few hours had been occupied by Aran learning how to butcher a pig. Nothing was wasted; even the bones were kept for soup in the colder months. Elaina was used to living in a remote area, and knew how to make things last.
Aran had never been this tired in his life. Once finished storing the meat, Elaina had finally told Aran to clean up and head inside. When he went to open the rear door to the Chapel -- the one that led out to the practice yard -- Elaina barked at him; "not like that! You're covered in blood and offal! Strip down!"
Too tired to care, he'd removed his clothes and staggered inside. When he turned to close the door, his hand froze on the handle. Elaina was following her own advice and stripping off her clothes before coming inside. She was facing the doorway where Aran stood, but she was focused on what she was doing, and not looking his way. Aran's breath caught as she stood up after pulling her boots off and began to work on the buttons of her coat. He knew he shouldn't be watching, and wasn't sure what she would do if she caught him looking, but he was unable to tear his eyes away.
After the short leather coat dropped to the ground, she attacked the laces of her shirt. Time seemed to slow down as each lace came away one by one, until finally the fabric parted and her tremendous, pale breasts came into view, the proud orbs capped by small, pink nipples.
Aran's exhaustion fled, and a strange energy flooded through him. Unrestrained by clothing, his cock shot to full length, but he was unaware of his body's reactions as he drank in the display before him.
Next, Elaina untied her thigh-hugging breeches and began to tug them down over her ample hips. As she bent, her breasts hung down beneath her, swaying to and fro as she wiggled her way out of the tight pants.
When she bent to gather her clothes together, Aran came to his senses and fled, the very last thing he'd seen burning into his vision; Elaina, from behind, bent at the waist, her full bottom and smooth pussy taunting him.
***
***ARAN -- Present Day, somewhere in the Emerin Forest***
Shafts of early morning light pierced the forest canopy above Aran, casting dappled shadows across the grass around him. The young Paladin sat shirtless, feeling as one with the woods around him, his heart beating in time with the pulse of life in the vast forest, every tree of oak and pine and fir, every bluebird, raven and jay, even the tiny insects invisible to the naked eye.
Today was Aran's third day on the road to Ironshire, and he had spent this morning and the previous two in deep meditation. He continued breathing deeply, savouring the peace of the present moment. Had he not been in such depth of awareness, he may not have heard the whisper of an arrow being drawn from behind him. Normally this sound would have been alarming, but strangely, he sensed no danger from the potential assassin, so he kept his eyes closed and his breathing even.
"Remain where you are, traveler," the stranger said. "Or you will find an arrow in your neck."
The voice was light and feminine, with a pleasantly lilting inflection. If Aran wasn't mistaken, that was an Elvish accent. He quickly considered his location; according to Elaina, the Wood Elf village of Ildernass was about three days' walk from here. Perhaps this one was a scout?
"Be easy, mellon, I mean no harm." No small part of Aran's tutelage under Elaina had been the various tongues of Elves, Dwarves, and other races. Mellon meant 'friend' in common Elvish.
"State your business, firya," the Elf demanded, using the Elvish word for 'human.'
Aran thought for a moment; he could lie, and hope to get away with it, or he could trust the Elf. His Gift told him that despite the risk, he should speak truthfully. "I am a Paladin of Aros, bound for Ironshire to further my training."
The Elf paused for a moment. "You move through hostile lands, eruchen."
Aran didn't know that word. He thought it meant 'child-something.' He wondered why these lands were considered hostile, as he had received no knowledge of this from Elaina. His intuition bore a question: "Perhaps it is not the lands that are hostile, mellon, but it's people?"
After a moment, Aran heard the bowstring relax before the Elf replied in a softer tone. "Forgive me, eruchen, our people are troubled, and trust is spare." Soft footsteps approached, and Aran rose smoothly, turning to greet the Elf girl.
He had never met an Elf in person before, only having heard many myths and legends from travelers, most of which Elaina said were untrue. Their beauty, however, his mentor had not denied.
The figure standing before him was lithe and tall, almost as tall as he was. She was clad in forest colours, all greens and browns, with soft leather boots hugging her slender legs to the knee. Above the boots, tight breeches showed the gentle curves of her thighs and hips. A quiver was strapped over her short coat, above which her perfect face regarded him; beautiful pale skin, full pink lips and stunning emerald eyes, framed by a cascade of silky, dark brown hair. Her slightly pointed ears indeed marked her as an Elf, as if her otherworldly beauty was not enough.
"Have you a name, eruchen?" She asked, boldly eyeing him up and down. He thought her eyes lingered on his shirtless chest for a moment, before flicking back to his face.
That word tickled at him. Eruchen; he felt like he should know it. "Aran," he replied, offering a hand.
The gorgeous Elf studied him for a moment, then finally smiled and clasped his hand. "I am Liaren."
Aran half-expected the spiritual melding that had happened with Jeira, but this time, no such thing occurred. Releasing her hand, he asked; "you called me eruchen. I don't recognise the word."