A Warriors Tale Elvin Encounter

1.

There were too many of them, but Kyra showed no signs of submission. She stood her ground, eyeing them from where she stood, her sword held up as though to challenge them to attack her.

"We can’t win this," I whispered to her, hoping she would hear me.

"I know," she replied, calmly, watching the creatures as they gathered around us.

Now there were twice as many. Only a third or so were armed, but there were enough that that would undeniably end us. The others gathered behind those with weapons, watching fearlessly to see what would happen, their dark green eyes patient yet curious.

"What is your purpose here?"

I looked around, hoping to find the voice’s owner.

"We’re merely passing through," I replied.

"Passing through?"

I found him then, standing unarmed to my left. He was dressed in more formal attire than the others in a long robe and a hat that came to a point more than a foot above his head. He was older, and stood with his arms held behind his back. To either side, two males stood, each holding a spear as though they might attack us at any moment.

"Yes," Kyra said, "we’re on an errand for Lord Dammirth."

"Lord Dammirth?" The elf smiled, amused, raising his graying eyebrows as he did.

"Yes," I replied. "Will you admit us passage?"

The old elf thought for a moment, surveying our team with curious eyes. Rayben stood on guard, holding his axe at shoulder height, looking through those surrounding him as though he might find a weak point. Rayenne, Rayben’s sister, stood likewise, but had apparently decided already there were no weaknesses. She watched Kyra, knowing that if any rash moves would be made, Kyra would be the one to make them. Tolliver held his short swords at his sides, trying to appear unthreatening, always thinking in terms of diplomacy. If there could be peace, Tolliver would do what was necessary to find it. Brache seemed uninterested in anything that might happen. He stood with his double-headed axe held at his side in one arm, as if he might lean on it for better comfort. A warrior to the end, he could raise the weapon in a second, but he knew the battle would be lost. Lunara stood in the center, the rest of us having formed a circle around her. She looked fearfully at the elves that had surrounded us. No weapon in hand (and in fact, not trained to use one), but instead, her dress, held so as to keep its white hem from touching the ground. Beauty was an undeniable asset, but she was useless here, in fact, a burden. Tyne, however, would be useful indeed. The mage stood with his arms at his sides, ready to cast whatever spell might be necessary, though he could not harm the elves with magic. They were magical creatures themselves, resistant to it.

The old elf’s gaze finally fell upon me, Kobress, standing with my long sword half-raised, waiting for his response.

"What is this errand? One of importance?"

"We’re to deliver this girl to Count Killian of Murdint," Kyra responded. "It is an attempt at peace between our two peoples."

"Peace?" The elf considered this, clearly pleased with the idea. Then he looked to Kyra again.

"The Elvin people here cannot take a side in this conflict, even if it is to help the idea of peace become a reality. However, we can allow you passage for a price."

"We’re listening," Kyra said.

"We’ve been faced with an unforeseeable conflict between ourselves and the Tree-dwellers from the North Woods. It seems they have exhausted their food supply there and wish to impede on our territory to replace it."

"You share a food supply with these creatures?" I asked. "They want your food supply?"

"No, we do not," he said, "They wish to make us their supply of food."

I looked to Kyra, who looked back to me, astonished. I shrugged, wondering less how difficult it could be than whether I could leave and allow these creatures to be eaten. Kyra then looked to Brache, who shrugged in response, and then to Tyne, who looked grave and nodded slowly.

"A group of warriors, especially human warriors, would be quite useful in this situation. We can hide and run, but we cannot escape them in these manners. We fight them, but our people are not so educated in the ways of destruction. And in conflicts until now, we’ve been outmatched, losing three to their one," the old elf explained.

Kyra lowered her sword slowly then.

"For passage," she explained, "we will help you, but we will stay only three days. Until that time is up, we will do as you need us to."

The elf smiled and clapped his hands together.

"Excellent!" He exclaimed. "Come, there will be a celebration."

2.

They led us to their camp, the old elf, Diblido, talking all the while to Kyra, who listened, soaking in every word. Tyne, always serious, listened as well. I walked with Rayenne to one side and Rayben to the other, my eyes shifting through the females that were gathered together in front of us. They were all beautiful, as Elvin females tend to be. Thin, long-legged creatures, their proportions as different as a human female’s, but unlike human females, they were all delicate featured, all uniquely feminine.

Rayenne, seeing my gaze, bumped my elbow with hers and whispered with a smile, "Careful, Kobress, you may strain your eyes."

I smiled back, and with that she walked ahead, swaying her hips slightly, showing her own femininity. Rayben stepped up next to me then, looking serious, agitated.

"Hey, watch how you look at my sister!"

I looked at him, seeing his eyebrows scrunched together and his lips set. I opened my mouth to apologize when he broke, smiling widely. I smiled back, realizing his jest. He motioned to one of the elves, a young female with a short sword at her side, who’d turned her head to look back at us.

"I think tonight’s celebration will be a good one," Rayben said.

I agreed.

3.

The celebration was indeed a good one, filled with good cheer and excitement. Some of the Elvin wives danced naked by the flickering fire and Diblido announced us each by name to the village, telling his people we’d agreed to help them. Wine was passed around, a special mix which tasted sweet and led us too quickly into intoxication. I sat, watching the wives dance and the husbands talk war and strategy, watching Kyra and Diblido converse, Diblido totally distracted by each word he spoke and Kyra distracted even more so. Kyra, reliable and dedicated. Beautiful Kyra who gave herself so loyally to each and every cause she supported. Kyra who would never realize how much more beautiful that loyalty made her. I sat, Rayben sitting next to me, conversing with a few of the Elvin females, who hung on each word, more intoxicated by them than I was by the wine.

I got up, refilled my goblet with the sweet wine, and was stopped on my way back to my seat by some of the Elvin warriors, older warriors with graying hair and muscles large from wielding weaponry. They talked war with me for a moment, wondering how many battles I’d seen and how many kills I’d taken part in. I guessed an answer, having lost track of both, and the old elves nodded in approval, then turned to each other again as one began to tell yet another war story and the others concentrated on hearing it.

I found my seat again, took a long, deep drink of the wine, and set the goblet down.

"You haven’t spoken much."

The voice was young but deep, for a female that is. I glanced behind me to see one of the females standing there, holding in one hand a goblet that seemed too large for her to hold in one small hand. She wore the same as many of the elves, at least those not dancing. A short skirt tied on one side, and a shirt that covered her breasts and tied over one shoulder and on one side, leaving her muscular midsection revealed. She smiled as my eyes met hers. I smiled in return and motioned for her to sit.

Once seated, she took a drink from her goblet and held one hand out to me, as if to shake.

"I’m Kitira."

I shook her hand and said, "I’m Kobress."

She smiled. "I know."

I looked her over again, this time thinking about the possibilities. She was what I needed, meek, quiet, submissive. What a woman should be, attentive but not aggressive, willing to do as she was told and not what she wanted. Capable of following orders. In need of a man to protect her. What I had always been attracted to.

I smiled at this thought, and then asked, "What do you do here?"

She smiled in return, as if she’d heard my thoughts. "I’m a soldier."

4.

We drank; we talked. We spent most of the evening sitting next to each other and talking of battles and of our lives before training, what we’d done. No silence interfered; nothing broke the mood that was developing between us. We talked uninterrupted, spoke of things I would have hesitated about but felt no need to. As the night went on and our cups got the best of me, I decided to turn in. In my drunken state, I invited her back to the tent Diblido had arranged for me. She smiled and said she would consider it. I felt foolish then, as though the entire evening had been ruined by that suggestion, and I walked to the tent and crawled beneath the flap.

I dozed, sleeping the way only men who’ve drunk too much can sleep, heavily, like wood too wet to burn. I awoke seemingly for no reason an hour or so later, feeling fresh, the alcohol out of my system, and looking back on the evening that had passed as though it had been more of a dream than a reality. I sat up, listened to the air, hearing some of the others still chattering away outside and seeing the remains of the fire flickering outside through the cloth of the tent. Their words were low and there were few of them. I lay back down, closing my eyes to sleep again.

I heard it then, the light rustle of feet moving through grass, a sound inaudible to someone who wasn’t used to travel and danger. I opened my eyes and reached to my side for my sword. A moment later, the flaps to my tent opened and the small frame of an elf peered in. I released the sword and sat up, clearing my throat and asking, "Who’s this?"

The figure stepped through the opening and let the flap fall closed behind it.

"It’s me," the young, deep voice of Kitira. My heart leapt in my chest, then was completely still. For a moment, I wondered if it would start beating again. When it did, it thumped loudly in my ears, beating away at one hundred miles a minute.

"Not glad to see me?" She asked.

"Yes," I responded, sounding out of breath in my own ears, but glad to have finally found my voice. "Very glad."

I could hear her move closer, then stop to one side of me. A moment later, a weak flash of light filled the room and the candle beside me suddenly glowed to life. I looked at it, amazed.

Kitira saw my amazement in this new light. She smiled and said, "One of Diblido’s inventions. A firebox. He has all kinds of little trinkets like this, laying around to be stumbled over."

I smiled and looked to her. She was still wearing the same clothing, still looking more intoxicating than the wine had been. In her right hand was a small metal box that appeared to be made of copper but I was sure it was some other metal, something magical if my knowledge of elves was correct. She held a short bow in her other hand, and a quiver hung over her shoulder. A short blade, just larger than a dagger, hung at her waist. Elvin weaponry, a short sword.

"I waited until the wine wore off," she explained, "I wanted to be sure it was what I really wanted to do. Are you feeling more . . . like your normal self?"

I smiled at that. "I’m sober, if that what you’re asking me. Like my normal self? I’m not so sure."

She walked over to the other side of me, laying her bow and quiver down on the ground, then turned to me again, smiling sweetly. I wondered then, just how deadly a creature with that sweet smile could be. Even more, I wondered if I would ever really want to know, if I could see her in that manner and still feel the same as I did then. Lust had taken me by surprise, but I was certain something else lay behind it, something deeper, I feared, but it was much too soon to tell.

I sat up.

"Are you¾?"

"Shhh!" She insisted, placing one finger to her mouth, "We’ve talked enough for one night."

That said, she reached to her side and untied her shirt, then reached behind her neck and untied it there as well. She pulled it from her, revealing her breasts, small but well shaped, with areoles a moderately darker green, and dropped it to the ground next to her. She reached to her hip then, removed the belt holding the small sheath, blade inside, unbuckled it and dropped the weapon, then untied the skirt and let it fall as well, revealing narrow hips, smooth green skin and a small tuft of dark green pubic hair. She smiled, displaying herself; I smiled back in full approval.

She kneeled next to me, pulling the blankets away, then slipped beneath them and huddled close, placing her face near mine and running her hand up my stomach to my chest. I kissed her, parting her soft lips with my tongue, feeling her smaller tongue linger with mine, her lips sucking it for a moment, and then pulling away.

I opened my mouth to protest, but she put a finger to it, stopping my efforts, and pulled at my shirt, trying to get it over my head. I raised my arms, making it easier. Once the shirt was gone, I reached over and gripped her hips, pulling her close and kissing her again, this time deeper and longer than the first, more aggressive.

When we parted this time, she gave me a surprised smiled and blushed slightly, as if my tenacity had caught her off guard. Then she kissed me again, reaching down to my waistline and slipping her fingers beneath my belt. They slithered beneath the fabric until they found my penis, then wrapped themselves around it, stroking as best they could in the restricted space. I leaned back a little, trying to give her more room.

When we parted lips a second time, all shyness was gone. She pulled her hand from my pants and unbuckled my belt, then gripped my pants with both hands and aggressively pulled at them. I lifted my buttocks from my bed, letting the cloth slip over my hips and down my thighs, then sat back down again as she tossed the blankets away. A moment, later, the blankets were off and we sat looking at each other, both bare in the candlelight, watching it flicker against one another. Her green skin appeared too soft to be real, too real to be false and too false to be anything shy of pure fantasy. Then she kissed me again, holding my head with her hands, leaning her breasts against my chest.

I lifted my hands, more a reflex than a voluntary action, to her hips and gripped them tightly, thinking to myself that she was all of those things I’d thought she was, soft and real and a fantasy, any and everything but false. I pulled her closer, moving her weight with little trouble, and set her before me, one leg on either side of me, straddling me. She held my head tighter, not letting me pull my lips away, and I raised my hands to her breasts, cupping them each in one palm, fingers almost reaching her shoulders above each. She let my head go then, reaching around my shoulder with one arm and reaching down with the other, finding my penis and stroking it again, this time freely.

I wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her close with it, but not so closely that I couldn’t fit my other hand between the two of us. I slipped it between her legs, laying my middle finger across her slit, letting it part her lips but not enter her. She breathed in then, pulling her lips back but keeping her eyes closed. Taking advantage of our temporary separation, I withdrew my hand and spit into the palm, doing so quietly. I dipped the same finger into the saliva, lubricating it, then slid it between her legs again, this time rubbing the finger against her, slowly and gently, again not entering her.

She moaned lightly, then opened her eyes and leaned forward again to kiss me. She moaned softly as we kissed, still stroking my now fully erect penis, moving her hand at the same pace as I moved mine. After a minute or so, I decided to go further and curled the tip of my middle finger, sliding it into her, not stopping until I could get it no further. She pulled away again, this time moaning a little louder, then immediately kissing me again, this time more aggressively. I took this as a sign of approval and started to move the finger slowly in and out of her, adding my ring finger a few moments later.

After a few minutes of this, I was getting impatient, wanting her too badly, and decided not to fight it. I pulled my finger from her, gripped her by the hips and lifted her, pulling her to where my penis was out of her reach, raising her until her breasts were right in front of me and planting my lips between them, licking the skin there and moving to each breast, sucking the nipples in, lapping at them.

Contented with that, I lowered her again, kissing her once more then wrapping my arms around her to support her weight and rolling to my left, carrying her with me, laying her on her back with me on top. I kissed her again, resting my weight on one hand to keep from laying it directly on top of her small frame, my free hand finding her breasts again. She reached down and began to stroke me again, doing so for only a few seconds then pulling at me, her grip tightening. I followed her lead, moving higher, my head surpassing hers before the tip of my penis came in contact with her slit. She was damp now, moist with her own lubricants. She pulled at me still, and I let the head slid into her. She gasped then, a reaction I mistook for pleasure at first and drove slowly deeper. Her entire body tensed then and she let out a groan that could only have meant pain. I stopped, realizing then what I’d done. I’d forgotten who she was, what she was used to. She was an elf, a creature whose physical being was a smaller but equally proportioned version of my own human form. That meant that, even though I might be average for a human, I was still a good bit larger than the lovers that she’d had in the past, however many there may have been.

I looked down at her, seeing her face twisted into an expression of pain, and debated pulling out again. Before I could, her face relaxed a little and she gripped my hips and pulled at me, letting me know it was okay to go deeper. I did, but slowly, and stopped a second later when her face twisted into that expression again. I waited a few seconds, and when the expression faded away, I withdrew a little, then slid in again, letting her adjust to movement at that depth before going deeper. I pumped slowly, watching for a reaction on her face, and, when I saw no change, I pumped a little deeper, going until her face twisted again. A minute or so of this and I was pumping fully into her, not yet receiving moans or gasps of pleasure, but not hearing any of pain either. I slowed, moving slowly, watching her face, which no longer held that twisted expression but a neutral one.

The talking outside had tapered, leaving only a few voices. The graying warriors I was sure, still telling war stories.

A minute later, she was beginning to moan again, this time smiling slightly. Her body was fairly relaxed beneath me. I took this as a positive sign and started to pump faster. She gasped at first, then muttered, "Yes."

I pumped a little faster, and her body tensed again, then relaxed. I decided to stick to this pace, so long as it got the reaction I wanted from her. She moaned slightly, closing her eyes, her breaths short and frequent, broken here and there by moans or whimpers.

It wasn’t long before her moans and whimpers were getting closer together, encouraging me to pump faster, driving in a little deeper and hearing my skin and hers strike one another with louder slaps. She tensed, then relaxed, then tensed again, clamping her legs around me and using them to thrust herself upward toward me. Her breaths quickened then, quickly becoming near pants, broken now and again by a loud moan or whimper. She tensed, relaxed, tensed again, her heels digging into my back as her upward thrusts became more aggressive, then easing, then digging in again. Her fingertips pressed into my back, the neatly manicured nails pressing sharply against the skin but not breaking it.