I assert the right to be listed as the author of this story (posted on Literotica) wherever it is found. A few paragraphs may be posted as teasers, with a link back to the original story for more, but if you post the full story, I require you to obtain permission from me first.
This story is Fantasy, set in the magical world where almost all of my tales take place. It also has no sex other than light suggestion and a single touch, so if you don't like fantasy, or you're just looking for pure stroke, now would probably be a good time to click the back button.
This is an entry in the Literotica Winter Holiday contest
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Stepping out of a warm, brightly lit cottage into a gentle, moonlit snowfall, an elderly woman approached the man standing just beyond the silhouette of light from the door. "What are you watching, Dear?"
The old man chuckled and said, "Someone special, I believe."
The silver-haired woman laid an arm over his shoulder with obvious familiarity, gazing into the glowing snowball her husband was using to scry. She saw a man who looked much like her husband, with his full white beard and kind eyes, except the man they watched was obviously quite frail.
"He looks familiar," she said, kissing her husband's cheek. Looking again, she said, "Oh, I remember him now. You've looked in on him in seasons past."
The old wizard turned to his wife and said, "I think he's the one. It all depends upon whether he keeps his heart this year, I believe."
She asked, "He's married?"
"Of course. There are others, but this one is special I think."
"Well, we'll know soon. It wouldn't be so bad to carry the tradition for a few more years if necessary, would it Dear?"
He laughed and waved his hand over the snowball, causing the glow of magic to vanish from it. "Of course not, Dear. I love it as much as you do, but if the ones who will take our place are ready, then it's time for us go back out into the world."
A coquettish smile crossed the old woman's lined face as she suggestively said, "That wouldn't be so bad either."
He smiled back at her and said, "Behave, Dear. Let's go inside, there is still a lot to do, whether it will be me or another who carries on the tradition this year."
They clasped hands and walked back inside, chuckling when they saw the impatient look on the diminutive sprite that awaited them both. They indeed had much to do, and time was slipping away.
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Nicholas slept with his balding head down on the table, snoring loudly. His wife, Marta, hobbled into the room with the assistance of her cane, pursing her lips and shaking her head when she saw him.
"Nicholas, you've fallen asleep again."
With a snort, he jerked his head up and looked around in confusion. "No I haven't. I was just thinking."
"You snore like a bear when you think then." She slowly crossed the kitchen to where he sat, laying her hand on his shoulder. "I know this is special to you, but you're going to have to get used to the fact that you're old. We both are."
"I'm not too old to work magic," he protested, returning to the task of measuring out spell components, which he had fallen asleep in the middle of doing.
"You can still hurl a few spells, but you're old, Dear. It never snows here. We're too far south. You're fighting all the forces of nature every year when you cast your spells to bring the snow and keep it there until the Yule."
Nicholas hung his head and sighed, "Those children will be heartbroken if it doesn't snow this year. Most of them haven't known a Yule where it didn't."
"They'll be just as disappointed if you die trying. You always promised me you wouldn't die before me, remember?"
Laying his hand on hers, he replied, "You know that's a promise I can't really keep, Marta. It's not up to me."
"That don't mean you've got to go and get yourself killed over bullheadedness," she scolded.
"I'll try just once more. I'll be alright, Dear."
"You said that last year, and then I woke up to find you outside half-covered in your snow on Yule day."
Nicholas winced, "I'm sorry about that. I should have told you I was going to try."
Marta kissed him on top of the head and said, "Just you remember that, and don't you leave me, Nicholas. Now, come to bed."
Rising on shaking knees, Nicholas nodded and picked up his cane, following his wife to bed.
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The sun was shining bright as Nicholas walked outside his humble home the next morning. Marta walked out behind him and said, "I still say you are going to get yourself killed."
Sitting down his bag of carefully measured spell component on what he called the
Snow Bowl
, a stone pedestal with a concave top that served as a birdbath most of the year, Nicholas turned to his wife and said, "I'll be fine. You can whack me with your cane if I look like I'm dying, that will break my concentration, you know that."
With warning in her eyes, Marta exclaimed, "Don't you think I won't either!" Her eyes and her tone softened then, "Please be careful."
"I will, Dear."
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Once more outside in the snow, the old wizard Kristopher looked down into his snowball, finding those he would visit this year. Suddenly, his head came up as he heard a sound like the tinkling of bells.
Almost immediately, Tanta emerged from the front door of the cottage, "You felt it too."