Chapter 1: Padraig

Praesul, aka Sir Oliver, once upon a time Oliver Fowler, cradled the little girl in his arms. He hadn’t known he had ‘red’ genes, but sure enough the elfin child had red hair. Pointed ears split the wavy copper mop each side of her head, and she smiled up at her father. “Da.”

“That’s right, Princess. I’m your Daddy.”

Emerald green eyes sparkled.

“Oliver, use her name, darling.”

“But she’s my Princess,” he protested, deliberately including a helping of ‘whine’ in his tones. He thought he heard a tiny giggle from the child in his arms.

His Bond-mate, Princess Nyulnos, chuckled. “I know, darling, and I love the way you treat her, but she needs to hear her name so she recognises it.”

“Aurinea,” he said, smiling down at the mite. Yes, that was definitely a giggle. “I’m pretty sure she knows already,” he said. “She just giggled at me.”

“There are advantages to a human Mate,” Nyulnos said thoughtfully. “I doubt you’d find a male elf cuddling a girl-child.”

“Well, for most men, a daughter is very special. I suppose there are a few who demand a boy, but not most, I think. This one is beautiful. Of course, she could hardly be other, bearing in mind her mother.”

“Flattery will get you... me! But later. Much later. Put her down on the moss. She needs to crawl.”

He lifted the child to give her a kiss on the nose, earning another giggle, before reluctantly placing her on the moss on her back. She immediately rolled over, drew her knees up and began a rapid crawl in a circle around her father’s feet. Her pale green ‘onesie’ didn’t reach her feet, but disappeared into calf-length, soft booties. She made two laps before deciding to try to pull herself upright using her father’s trousers. Whilst it was not the first time she’d tried, on this occasion she succeeded, holding on with one hand and swaying slightly.

“That’s my girl,” he announced, offering a hand. She grasped it and released the trousers, offering her other hand. He placed his other hand within reach, and when she took it – or, rather, a finger – took her first unsteady, tottery step. However, she decided that, no matter how advanced that form of progress was, crawling was faster and more satisfying, so released his hands and dropped back onto hands and knees. He stepped back, and went to stand with his bond-mate. “This is ... unreal,” he tried to express his feelings.

“Regrets?” Her voice was light, but he knew she still worried a little.

“Oh, no, Sweetheart. What’s to regret? I was winding down towards death. I enjoyed the life I had, but life with you ... it’s ... like being reborn. In more ways than one. I look maybe forty, and feel more like twenty. You are a dream on your own, and Aurinea is a gift. This life, well, I couldn’t have dreamed of it. The only regret I have is watching my other daughter age.”

“We could, perhaps, do something about that?”

“We could?”

“I will ask. And Penny would need to consent. I am not suggesting what you have, but possibly sufficient for her to have a family of her own.”

They shared a soft kiss. “Something to think about,” he said.

A rumble from overhead produced an instinctive glance upwards. He was not expecting to see anything, for the gap in the canopy of trees was small. However, an olive-green, twin engined aircraft, flying quite low, was visible for a few seconds. He recognised the shape and sound of an old Douglas Dakota, but returned his attention to his family.

On board the aircraft, two military pilots were controlling the machine. The co-pilot was looking down. “Pretty down there,” he said. “Not much fun if we had an engine failure.”

“True, that. We could probably get down alive, but I don’t think we could do it with an intact machine.” The captain, an RAF Squadron Leader, glanced at the clock. “Time to start the climb,” he said, suiting action to the words. It wasn’t far to the little country show, and they were to fly past and drop five parachutists. They, the parachutists, were using steerable chutes, not the round ones from the Second World War, since they needed to land in the display arena. At the assigned altitude, six thousand feet above ground level, the captain made his judgement of the wind, and flicked a switch. A red light glowed above the door, and the soldiers hooked up and lined up. Shortly after, a green light and they stepped, one after another, out to fall until their chutes opened. The co-pilot watched.

“Five good chutes,” he said. Then, a little later as the field receded, “All down and on target.”

“Excellent.” The captain breathed a little easier. “One more pass, and home.” He reduced power, and lost height, turning to cross the field at one thousand feet AGL. As they crossed, he waggled the wings, increased power, and climbed back to their assigned altitude, heading east to their base. On the ground, the soldiers gathered their chutes, and made their way to an Army recruitment stall. At the end of the show, they would ride back with their colleagues. But before then, they would answer a lot of questions from potential recruits.

That evening, event over, display down and packed, the Army truck left the showground, heading East. The soldiers chattered cheerfully, if not easily, over the noise of engine and tyres on the road. The event had been successful, as far as they were concerned. One of the parachutists was due leave, and had permission from the National Trust to camp in the Longshaw Estate. He dismounted the vehicle in Grindleford, and marched up hill to the station, and thence into the woods. His mates carried on, heading for Catterick. They would reach the garrison around midnight. He slipped through the stile into the woods and walked, treading carefully and quietly, uphill.

Late evening, Oliver’s attention was taken by a young male dryad. “Sir. Sir Oliver. A man. A soldier. Has just entered the Wood at the bottom boundary.”

“Thank you. Ciaran, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir. Aileen told me to find you and let you know.”

“That’s good. Why don’t you go and let Father Quercus know, too?” Oliver turned to his Bond-mate. “Will you come with me, My Love?”

“I suppose I should. Shall you carry Aurinea?”

“Absolutely.” The little girl happily allowed herself to be picked up and planted on her father’s shoulders. The trio headed downhill.

The soldier saw them approaching. “Hello,” he said.

“Hello,” Oliver returned. “Do you mind telling me who you are and what you’re doing here?”

The soldier looked them up and down. The man was tall, fit, about forty years old, it seemed. Dressed in green, with a green-clad child on his shoulders, the soldier’s eyes were drawn to ... the hilt of a sword? Just visible behind the child. The woman was beautiful, also in green. Quite tall, very slim. Long, wavy black hair. Pointed ears showing through the cascade of hair. “You look like an elf,” he blurted to her.

She laughed, a lovely sound. “There’s a good reason for that.”

“I...” the soldier hesitated. What right did these people have to ask him questions? What the hell. “I’m Padraig Conors. Lance Corporal.” He reeled off a number neither Oliver nor Aster caught. “I have permission from the Trust to camp here overnight. With due care, of course.”

“Why would you want to do that?” Oliver’s voice wasn’t challenging. He just sounded as though he was interested in the answer.

“I’ve been reading about this place for years. Both history and fiction. I’m told it’s a magical place. My mates wouldn’t understand. You know, dryads, ents, that sort of thing.”

Oliver looked at his wife with a raised eyebrow. She nodded slightly. He turned back to the soldier. “Well, Padraig, I am Praesul, and my wife is Princess Nyulnos. You might like to think of us as guardians of the Woods. Call us Aster and Oliver, if you like.”

The soldier looked open mouthed for a few moments. “Is that a sword behind your shoulder? Um, Oliver?” Had he entered the Twilight Zone?

“Yes, it is. As Consort to the Princess, I am required to bear a sword. There are evil things as well as beauty in this world. Come with us, and we’ll introduce you to the elders of the Wood, and find you a good place to camp, okay?”

He headed uphill to a slightly clearer area, and approached an ancient oak; he touched the trunk and spoke quietly. The tree became an old, but hale, man. The soldier wasn’t at all sure what he’d seen, and blinked. The old man spoke clearly.

“Praesul. Princess. And who is this?”

“Father, this is Padraig, whom I name Friend. He wishes to sleep here in the Wood.”

“Friend Padraig, welcome to the Wood.”

“Thank you, sir. I have a bivvy and sleeping bag.”

“Oh, I think you will not need those. Would you like a wash before sleeping?”

“That would be very good. I was not expecting that.”

“Praesul, perhaps you would take our Friend and introduce him to Phoebe?”

Oliver smiled and raised an eyebrow. “You think that wise?”

“I think she will make him very welcome.”

“Oliver, I think Aurinea is asleep.” Aster’s voice drew his attention to the weight resting on his head. “Shall I put her to bed?”

Oliver lifted the child down and placed her in Aster’s arms. “Good idea. Will you leave her with Betula?”

“Unless Liam would like to guard her. You know how she loves him.”

“Just a moment, then. Liam!”

The soldier watched and saw a large – very large – grey dog appear out of the understorey. “Padraig, meet Liam. Liam is a shape-shifter. Liam, this is Friend Padraig. Padraig, relax and let him sniff you.”

Relax? With a dog – was it a dog? – whose head reached his chest? But Padraig stood, using every trick he could remember to calm his pulse and breathing. The examination seemed interminable, but eventually the animal stepped back and looked at Oliver.

“Happy, Liam? We’d like you to keep an eye on Aurinea, please.”

The animal huffed and appeared to nod before turning away to follow Aster as she carried the little girl.

“Come along, Padraig. You need to meet Phoebe. No young man should miss Phoebe.” He hesitated before going on, “If I may suggest, she has a very active libido. There is no risk to you in keeping her happy.”

What?

Before Padraig could pursue that, Oliver was walking away, and he followed, wondering. He caught up. “Sir...”

“Please, call me Oliver.”

“But ... you’re...”

“An old human who has been caught up in something literally fantastic. You realise you won’t be able to talk about what you experience here, don’t you? At least, only to another initiate.”

“Well, yes. No-one would believe anyway.”

“That too. Here we are.” Oliver had led the way down a short, steep slope to a flat area just a little higher than the brook, covered in dry leaves which crackled as they stepped on them. The brook at that point widened a little below a cascade several feet high. “Phoebe?” Oliver called out over the sound of the rushing water.

Afterwards, Padraig couldn’t be sure if he’d blinked at the critical moment, but there in front of him was a small naked figure, female, with spiky electric blue hair. Her skin was somehow mottled in shades of brown and green, though the effect was subtle. Though small, she was clearly an adult. He guessed at her height as less than five feet, though he could not be sure as she was standing in an unknown depth of water. She moved towards them and climbed out, revealing a perfectly proportioned, though petite, body. Yes, less than five feet.

She bowed, though Padraig felt it was an ironic gesture. “Praesul! An honour! Who is your companion?”

“Phoebe, this is Friend Padraig, a new guest. Perhaps you would like to help him with a bath and to find a suitable place to rest for the night? Somewhere comfortable?”

“Praesul? Really?”

“Really. I thought you would be perfect for the task.”

“Oh! Um. Thank you!” She turned to face Padraig. Her manner changed. From her demure response to Oliver, she became, or began to become, sultry. “Friend Padraig, I am Phoebe, and I am very pleased to meet you.”

Oliver was aware that he’d ceased to exist as far as Phoebe was concerned, and he smiled. “You’re in good hands,” he told Padraig as he left.

Padraig, on the other hand, was bemused. But it was difficult to concentrate with Phoebe’s full attention on him. “You ... you’re pretty,” he stuttered.

“Thank you!” She spoke brightly. “The Praesul didn’t explain, but I am the Naiad of the brook. Have you met Father Quercus?”

“Yes, just before Oliver led me here. It was he who suggested you. But this is all new to me. I mean,” he trailed off. Phoebe had moved right up to him, and was undulating against him. Her naked, shapely body. The result was inevitable. Now Padraig – inevitably ‘Paddy’ to his mates, though he’d been born and brought up in England – was young and inexperienced with women, a consequence of a Catholic upbringing and his nature. He had little resistance to such a blatant approach.

“You are wearing far too many clothes, Padraig.” Phoebe was dealing with that, finding the fastenings of his uniform, then dropping to her knees to remove his boots. He lifted his feet to enable her to remove them, then stepped out of trousers and shorts. Naked almost before he was aware of it, his clothes piled out of the way, she pressed him down onto the leaves. It was all so far out of his experience, his erection was in her mouth and he was spurting long before he could have exerted any control. She lifted off, licking her lips, with a satisfied smile. “Sweet, and you come a lot,” she said.

His dick flaccid for the moment, he did something he would not ever have considered normally. He pushed her flat, spread her legs, and dived in to explore her sex with his lips and tongue. He had read about cunnilingus, but had thought it sounded disgusting. He soon found that it was far from disgusting. Her vulva was fascinating as he explored, and the taste of her juices delicious. What he lacked in experience he made up in enthusiasm, and Phoebe was very responsive anyway, and came quickly and noisily. Since he didn’t know about sensitivity, he kept going – her responses were so satisfying – until she actually pushed his head away.

“I need you in me,” she begged.

Since he was rock-hard again, he covered her with his body. His dick found her entrance easily, and he thrust home.

“Gods! Oh, yes! Hard!”

No one, not even Phoebe herself, could have counted the orgasms she experienced, and as Padraig reached his point of no return and spurted hard into her, she actually, for the first time in her existence, lost consciousness.