A Modest Fairytale
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Magic, Group Sex,
Desc: Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A lost tale written by Tolkien’s second cousin, twice-removed. The heavy hand of soulless bloodletting purged the magic centuries ago. One young man’s flight from conscription could bring a return of the magic. Or he could just release a bunch of foul mouthed, oversexed magical beings on an unsuspecting populace. Satire may be involved.
Pardin settled back into his newly mended chair, enjoying the smell of the peeled wood that he had used to reset the arms. The roots of the small tree were used to make tea and the branches carried a slight scent of the aromatic as well. For the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to relax without counting off all of the tasks still ahead.
He was a young man fleeing a dismal future. Having found the furthest corner in the darkest shadow of the Western Mountains, Pardin had laid claim to a small neglected cabin that decades of hunters had probably used during hunting season. He was concerned that the hunters would be returning because the woods were teeming with game. There was a hint of the coming chill in the air signaling the hunting season but the hunters hadn't arrived. Were they coming at all? The uncertainties worried him constantly.
Perhaps the days of hunting the great game had come to an end with war in the plains on the far eastern side of Lord Hinderblast's domain. The hunters, if they were still alive, could be deep in the ranks of the lord's conscripted army he surmised. After all, ten years of Hinderblast's follies had emptied the countryside of able-bodied men. Ten years of conscription had also forced their husbandless families to retreat from the remote farms and ranches to closer villages and cities that offered jobs and a modest bit of safety.
Surely Hinderblast's vanity would be the death of all his subjects as he refused to relinquish some sliver of land for which no one gave a damn. Who cares about honor and pride when your dad is buried on some nameless battlefield? "Damn that lord's soul to oblivion" was a common refrain in Pardin's village. Damn and damn again but his death couldn't come soon enough to save more souls from the bloody fields.
Two weeks back Pardin had watched a pack of mountain wolves cross a meadow up one of the near mountain's flank. The males had taken note of Pardin and continued walking, escorting their females and their adolescent cubs. Their game of staring him down unnerved him. Where they were going, Pardin couldn't guess, but they were moving swiftly. They had shown no fear of him, which had made him more ill at ease.
He added their presence to his list of concerns of which the lord's army was at the top. When rumor of conscription gangs had reached his ears while selling his mother's herbs at the county market, Pardin had begun to make his plans. Disregarding any further coin that he could have made, he bundled up the herbs and ran for home. Even though his village was a two day march down a lonely road, Pardin was certain that the gangs would leave no village untouched. If they were coming to conscript men in the Northeastern County again, after having swept through only nine months previous, the gangs were desperate for army recruits. The lord had lowered the age for conscription since then as well. Having come of age since the last sweep thanks to Hinderblast's new law, Pardin knew what was in store for him if he did nothing.
He kissed his mother goodbye as she slept and he took up his father's hunting gear. In the middle of the night, he slipped out of the village when no wandering eyes could see. A few coins could buy a lot of information in his village of Maggie's Key and he wasn't willing to trust any of the residents, even his mother.
In the deep of night, he fled along the path leading to the cold high mountains. Only the most foolhardy or hunt-crazed people took this ancient road. At the end of the road was one of the three known entrances to the lands of the accursed magical folk. Though none of the magic folk had been seen in recent memory, the tales of human encounters with trolls, dwarves, goblins and even the mysterious elves filled the homes of villages up and down the eastern spine of the mountains that separated the lands. Everyone knew the entrance wasn't closed or blocked. Lord Hinderblast didn't provide soldiers to keep watch over the ornately carved entrance that delved into the mountain to keep the magic out of the human lands. Anything could come or go.
Not far above the entrance, Pardin sat in his mended chair in his acquired home. The cabin had been built by skilled and patient hands on a short shelf of rock that jutted out from the side of the mountain. Protected from the backside and from rain runoff because of a second protruding shelf of rock above, the house was sound.
The builder had put in wood floors. The thick boards had been laid down in the rough and then their tops were sanded and sealed with oil. There were still odd gaps between the boards because the sides were not sanded but the floor was comfortable. The walls were thick timbers and the door was stout. Age had taken its toll and Pardin had spent his first week patching gaps where the timbers had split or gapped. Cut, unused timbers crowded the stone wall near the cabin behind some of the trees. Flint heads abounded in the area, and Pardin had used them to split new shingles for the exposed parts of the roof out of the weathered timbers.
The front of the cabin had one window with four small panes of glass in a square. At first Pardin had wondered at the expense of such a thing but he soon dismissed the puzzle as unsolvable. The small chimney had to be purged of rodent nests and the cistern had to be cleaned and resealed. The channels carved into the mountain ensured that the large cistern held water through the dry season. He had been busy since the moment he arrived and found this hideaway.
With a sigh Pardin leaned forward to test the tenderness of the two birds roasting on the spit in the fireplace. They were small things, half the size of turtledoves but their feathers were priceless. Tomorrow he would tap one of the evergreens farther up the mountain for some sap. He needed to make a glue to attach the feathers to his new arrows he already needed to replace.
The door shook. The knock at the door had Pardin jumping out of his seat looking in every direction; someone knocked again, only more insistent this time. Pardin stared at the only entrance as the realization dawned on him what the thuds meant - they had found him. Even in the farthest, darkest corner of the realm, they had found him.
He raised his fist and cursed the fancy window that allowed light to seep out of his home.
They were not going to take him alive or at least not without the fight of their lives, he silently vowed. Pardin picked up his long knife, which he had just sharpened and oiled. With his weapon in one hand he reached for the metal latch and released the bar across the lintel. His heart pounded in his chest.
Pardin's jaw was clenched and his lip was curled. He threw open the door and thrust his knife in front of his chest to take his attacker by surprise. The elf maid made a little squeak and took a step back.
"Scare a man half to death, why don't you!" Pardin roared. He rolled his head in both directions looking for the rest of the elven party. She was alone. His panic turned to confusion as he gazed at the elf in travel gear.
Regaining her composure, she crossed her arms and gave him a look of annoyance. "Is this human hospitality?" she sneered.
"Well, you could give a man a little warning, banging on the door after dark," Pardin said throwing up his hands in disgust. He had been sure that the conscript hunters had found him and when he saw it was a magical creature, he was thoroughly thrown. Why would an elf come into the human lands?
Everyone knew elves had pointy ears and a haughty disposition. Their condescending ways were a fixture in every story he had ever heard. Elven ways were indecipherable and their motives were impenetrable.
Worse still, this elf was a woman and they were always purveyors of witchcraft in the stories. They would use their beauty and pretend sweetness until they attacked with their unusually sharp elfin knives. Human organs were the best ingredients for elf magic according to the tales that wound their way through the taverns and inns. Pardin wasn't going to take any chances.
"It's not like we have elves walking around here every day," he said.
"Who in their right mind would want to walk around here?" she said. "Human lands are worse than the low rent district."
"Really," Pardin said giving her an up-n-down with his eyes. By human standards, she was slim and attractive if one ignored the pointy ears. "Then you have a place to go after all. Thank you for the visit and goodnight."
He went to shut the door and a foot blocked his way.
"Could you be any more fucking dense?" she said, reaching through the crack and smacking him on the forehead with the palm of her hand. "I'm a defenseless maid in distress, in a foreign land with no place to turn. Is there anything in this world as cold as a human's heart that he would pitch a weakened, starving soul into the cold barrens at the mercy of the nocturnal predators?"
"Give me a break," Pardin said to the hand, refusing to relinquish the door. The tales were certainly wrong about the sweetness of the elfin women. This one was un-distilled vinegar.
"Let go of the door, you lame-brained excuse for sheep dip," she said, shoving the door open and barreling past him. "Of all the humans in this world, I have to meet Sir All Foam, No Beer."
Pardin gave her his most annoyed look that he could muster. "Could you be more obnoxious?"
"I'm not sure that you could pour water out of a boot with instructions written on the heel," she countered. "Do you know how dark it is out there? What kind of coward leaves an elf maid out in the lonesome cold?"
"What kind of elf maid travels in the human lands after dark?" Pardin said. "You have no blade on you which means you are armed with magic. What defense do I have but to slit your throat this instant?"
She glanced at the knife for a moment and then looked Pardin full in the face. Suddenly her face softened and a grin appeared.
She put out her right hand stiffly. "Let's start over, shall we," she said. "I'm Adraytastance Feytalempak and I'm pleased to meet you. What is your name, kind sir?"
"Oh, for the love of the gods," Pardin said, thrown into a new confusion. "A woman possessed by demons has made it past my door. There isn't a priest within leagues and leagues who can perform the exorcism."
"I'm trying here," she yelled, "and you're being a pigheaded globie turd."
Pardin shook his head trying to figure out the last insult. Before he could come up with a suitable response, the elf had her head up, sniffing the air. She turned her back on him and his knife as if neither were there and walked over to the fireplace. Using his rag, she plucked the roasting spit from the fire and plunked it on the table.
"You almost burned your dinner," she said. "Is this all you could snare? There isn't enough meat here to feed a toddling babe."
"What are you doing here?" Pardin finally managed to ask.
"This is the caretaker's house on the human side of the Northern tunnel," she said. "I need taking care, or care taking or caring take; how ever you say staying in a safe place in the middle of the night."
"You are mistaken," Pardin said. "This is a hunter's cabin built for the season."
"Is not, you moron," she said. "Did you fall out of the stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down? It's got Elfish written across the roofline, giving blessing upon the house. We built it for you because you humans were too clumsy of thumb and thick of brain to build one yourselves."
"Oh, that's a relief," Pardin said, thinking that he didn't have to worry about hunters arriving any day. The elf maid looked at him, puzzled at his response.
"Still," Pardin said, lowering his knife because he wasn't sure what to do, "why are you here, in human lands, now?"
"Do you mind if I have one of your birds? I haven't eaten all day." She didn't wait for an answer. Taking a small knife from its sheath, she worried one of the birds off of the skewer and began to slice the meat off of the bone. "Not bad," she said, popping a slice in her mouth. "You used a bit of toasted fettock to season it."
Pardin went back to his mended chair and took a seat. He laid his knife on the floor at his side. "Answer the question, maid."
"Do you want the short version or the long version?" she asked. "You really should eat this meat while it's still hot. Sharing a meal is supposed to be a bonding experience between our peoples, you know."
"Short version," Pardin said, not moving from his chair.
She rolled her eyes and then rolled her shoulders. "My spineless, small-dicked husband-to-be threw me out of his house claiming that I insulted his revered family line," she said. "The truth was there was no fire-breathing dragon in his britches; I needed spectacles to find his dangly dinglehopper. My father refused to take me back and then a few other things happened and then I had to ... leave."
Pardin snorted. "If I heard you correctly, you insulted a lot of people, angered a few more, and they chased you out of the Western lands."
"When you put it that way, it sounds like I'm a terrible person," she said.
"You will find no denial of that in this room," Pardin said. "Having been in a few taverns around the province, I've never met such a foul mouthed creature in all of my life."
"What fucking business is it of yours?" she said standing up. Pardin noticed that she had finished eating every last scrap of the bird. At least he knew getting food in her belly was her first agenda item.
"Funny time to take offense, considering you just finished half of my meager dinner," Pardin said. He needed more answers before he trusted this elf in his cabin. "An elf in human lands under the cover of night means that you are in great need or great haste and you fear for your safety. There is a pack of wolves wandering through the area in case you didn't know."
"Wolves are part of the magic, fool," she said.
"Fine: wolves and elves hold hands and conjure spells together. You probably pissed them off, too." Pardin said testily. "I may be ignorant but I'm no fool."
"No, you're not a fool," she said, suddenly sitting down on the bench at the table with her elbows on her knees. The look on her face wasn't familiar to Pardin but he could see resignation in the way she slumped. He felt a small dash of triumph in his breast as she sagged. He wondered if all of her bluster was a front and now she run out of energy.
The silence stretched into several minutes. Pardin finally stirred from his seat and pulled his dagger from his waistband. "Fine, apology accepted," he said. "I grant you traveler's right to a night's hospitality in my home, if you can keep your insults to yourself. Excuse me while I eat what is left of my dinner."