Elf Boy's Friends - I
by George Gauthier
Chapter 1
Elysion
Two splendid youths grappled and twisted as they sought advantage in a practice bout, the sweat on their nude bodies glistening in the bright sun of early afternoon. Both youths were experts in unarmed combat, the traditional sport of the people of the secluded valley of Elysion and of the original homeland of the smaller of the two opponents.
The taller of the combatants was Artor, first born son of the local nobleman, landowner, and district judge Lord Taitos Klarendes. A good looking lad in his early twenties with above medium height and was blessed with the deeply tanned athletic build of a swimmer: narrow hips, strong shoulders, and large hands.
His opponent Aodh was a much smaller youth, one who barely reached five feet in height and weighed only a couple of pounds over a hundred-weight. Small, skinny, and smooth muscled, comely as an angel, with skin like porcelain which never tanned or burned, the raven-haired beauty looked utterly fragile and vulnerable. In actuality the epicene youth was easily twice as strong as he looked to be thanks to his magical nature.
Aodh was a shapeshifter or wir, which in his case meant he could take on the shape of a black panther. The magical process of transformation also healed wounds, injuries, and disease and kept him perpetually young, looking no more than sixteen though he was actually well into his twenties.
The foes separated to catch their breath. Artor shook his head.
"How can such a tiny body could be so strong! Father, I fear I am overmatched and that is without your lover using his claws on me."
His father laughed.
"Indeed Artor, Aodh's petite physique is much stronger than it looks, but the greatest advantage conferred by magically enhanced strength is the element of surprise, which no longer applies in your case."
"True but that still gives him the advantage of speed. Aodh's doubled strength makes him move faster than I can."
"Indeed, his enhanced speed and strength were what enabled him in his panther form to kill a full-grown dire wolf in single combat even though the beast massed more than twice what he did. Our little Aodh here is a formidable opponent. Of course you are quite formidable yourself thanks to your magical gift, not to mention your combat training as a Hand of the Commonwealth."
That was a reference to Artor's ability to control heat and fire and to cast it either as a flaming stream or in great clinging balls of flame, a magical gift he had inherited from his father. Most sentients on the planet of Haven had one or two magical gifts such as Calling Light, Healing, a Green Thumb, or an Unerring Directional Sense. Other gifts such as Mind Speech, Fetching, and Firecasting were less common. The rarest gift of all was the ability to wield many sorts of magic. That was the gift shared by war wizards and druids alike despite their very different approaches to the magical arts.
"Oh come on Artor," the young wir teased. "A fine strong fellow such as yourself shouldn't have any trouble taking on a little bitty kitty kat like me."
Just then Klarendes steward approached escorting a visitor, an apple-cheeked young man who stood over six feet tall and was powerfully built under the green silk shirt and trews that the wore. The steward named him one Finn Ragnarson of Varangia, though that place name was unknown to any of them. Finn's boyishly handsome face featured a straight nose and firm chin, graced by grey eyes, all framed by a tousled thatch of dark hair.
Then the steward formally introduced his master.
"Finn Ragnarson of Varangia, I present to you the Honorable Taitos Klarendes, Chief District Magistrate, Dispenser of the Middle Justice and the Low, Dwarf Friend, Lord-Zamindar of Elysion, and Count of the Eastern March."
"Also his son and heir Lord Artor, who is is a journeyman Hand of the Commonwealth." With a wink to Aodh he added. "And that impossibly cute fellow over there is Sir Aodh of Llangollen, spouse to Count Klarendes. I should mention that his title is not simply a courtesy title from his relationship with the count but one conferred on him by letters patent for distinguished service to the Commonwealth."
The introductions brought a shrug from the young visitor's.
"My people don't have much use for titles. Oh we have our headmen and war-chiefs but no gentry or aristocracy and not much of a government either. Still with all your tens of millions and the great extant of the Commonwealth of the Long River, I can understand why you need more structure in your society."
"Just who are your people anyway, Finn Ragnarson?"
"Frost Giants from the homeland."
Seeing the tension which his announcement brought he added hurriedly:
"I come in peace, Count Klarendes. Will you hear me out, sir?"
"Say what you have come to say."
"I am an emissary of the colony of Frost Giants stranded north of the Eastern Plains. We would make peace between us and the Commonwealth. We also ask for lands of our own where we may settle and resume our old way of life as woodsmen, shipbuilders, masons, and blacksmiths. In exchange we would form a binding alliance and swear loyalty to the the Commonwealth of the Long River."
"It is true that a corps of frost giants were enrolled on the other side during your recent wars with the eastern barbarians and the military-industrial nexus which the life-leech Urloch built on that foundation, but we were enlisted as construction workers not as fighters. We ourselves never directly engaged the forces of the Commonwealth nor have we had any hostile contact in the years since."
Finn went on to explain that until recently the Frost Giants had been under siege at the staging area Urloch had assigned the giants construct for him. After the destruction of Urloch's capital, shipment of supplies from the east stopped, including the cattle drives on which the centaurs fed threatening them with starvation/ In their native land, the creatures lived exclusively by the hunt, their population widely dispersed over the land.
The centaurs fought among themselves for possession of such beasts as were on hand in stockyards, feedlots, and stables. Once those were gone the centaurs turned on their allies as a source of meat. First to die were the barbarous humans from the eastern lands, many of whom had an admixture of orc blood. That distraction gave the Frost Giants the chance to retire to the stout fortress they had secretly built within their own precincts.
Over the next year, using their hoarded supplies, the giants managed to hold on long enough for the centaurs to turn on each other with a vengeance, cannibalizing their own numbers, but still fighting to get at the encircled Frost Giants as well. Eventually the ranks of the centaurs were reduced enough for the Frost Giants to take the offensive, to sally from their defensive works, and to engage the centaurs in open battle, which led to their extermination, at least in those parts.
"So why did your leaders send you and why did you come to me?" Klarendes asked.
"Lord Klarendes, you must understand that I myself am very young and far from full-grown. I am only seventeen and won't reach my full height for twenty years. It was thought that I could pass for human and so travel freely across your lands bearing no weapon save a quarterstaff, a walking stick really for all the use I have made of it. A full-grown Frost Giant traveling from the north across the plains might have been taken for a hostile. Although several million of us live in the Commonwealth proper, almost none have settled in the Plains."
"As for yourself, Lord Klarendes, you have a continent-wide reputation, you and your friends. That includes little Aodh over there, who all by himself took out a Frost Giant armed and armored for battle though he was, those twin archers Jemsen and Karel gifted with unerring aim, the giant-human hybrid Balandur, a Dread Hand of the Commonwealth, the unicorn Meirionnydd, and the young druid Dahlderon, an elf-boy originally. I have heard that you have a considerable admixture of elf blood in your own family, which explains your longevity and youthful appearance. I understand you to be in your forties but you look only half that. "
"You are well-informed, though I wonder whether you are empowered to negotiate for your people, being as young as you say you are."
"You are right on that score, sir. I am just a messenger. Our leaders hope you will conduct me to your capital city and get me a hearing from the government. My job there would be to invite the Ruling Council to appoint an emissary with full powers to return with me to meet our chiefs and settle matters between our peoples."
"I am all for peace, Finn Ragnarson of Varangia, so I welcome you to Elysion. Now, it will take me a couple of days to settle my affairs here. Then we shall set off. Both these youths will accompany us. Aodh is my spouse and lover and best friend. My son Artor is himself a journeyman Hand of the Commonwealth and due to report soon to the Chief Hand for his next assignment."
"Artor, after he settles in why don't you show our visitor around?"
Artor nodded and beckoned for the young giant to come with him. The steward showed them to a room where Finn set down his kit, then followed Artor for the grand tour of the manor house and then of the village and its idyllic setting.
"As you can see, Elysion is a secluded valley shaped liked a bowl, about eight miles across, surrounded on most sides by forested slopes and closed off to the east by vertiginous cliffs and the ravine through which the river that drains the valley passes."
"Yes I walked along that road and through the formidable fortification that guards it."
"We call it the Stone Castle though it is really just a fortified gate. Still it does the job."
"I saw empty barracks near the Stone Castle but no soldiers."
"Well it is no secret that Elysion was envisioned as a final redoubt for our Army of the Plains, if a military disaster or overwhelming odds ever forced them to retreat. The village itself is a fortress of sorts. It occupies a low hill on an island surrounded by fast flowing streams. The villagers could take shelter in their stoutly built houses should invaders ever penetrate that far."
"It is all very well thought out. Artor. Although by trade I am an apprentice blacksmith, my uncle is a stonemason and builder so I have an eye for such things."
"And an eye for comely young males, I would say from the way you have been staring at both me and Aodh with those grey eyes of yours."
"Can you blame me? You are quite handsome and little Aodh is... how can I put it? Aodh is a boy so beautiful he takes your breath away, the epitome of a young male in the full bloom of his youth. Impossibly pretty yet a deadly predator underneath, he is a melding of the innocent and the cruel. I find the combination devilishly attractive."
"Well thanks for your interest in me, but I consort exclusively with the female of the species. With another boy there is simply no spark. Nothing personal since you are quite presentable yourself."
"More's the pity. You see, I am at the age when I am small enough to consort with young males of the other races without damaging them. Once I am full-grown that becomes next to impossible."
"Maybe not for Aodh, though. He had no problem taking Balandur though of course old Balan was only seven and a half feet tall. You Frost Giants generally run a foot taller."
"So do I have a chance with Aodh?"
"Maybe. You can ask, but I have to tell you he is very much in love with my father."
"Who said anything about love? I fancy him for a tumble -- that's all."
"Then maybe you will get your wish. Ask him."
"Er, just one thing, Artor. Does Aodh ever lose control of his form while, er, in the throes of passion? I mean with those sharp claws and all..."
Artor giggled as he visualized the scene of the young giant trying to make love to an Aodh whose paws were busy kneading away at the giant's belly. Between giggles he managed to gasp: "No, Aodh never loses control of his form. No claws."
Grinning wickedly as an image of a panther giving Finn oral service popped into his mind, Artor pointedly glanced down at Finn's groin and assured him: "Aodh doesn't bite either!"
Artor then dissolved into giggles. His laugh was infectious, and soon Finn was chortling as well.
Finn did ask Aodh for a tryst, and that night, with the count's blessing, Aodh slipped into Finn's room.
The young giant could hardly believe his luck. The lovely wir-boy and sometime minstrel was a vision of youthful male pulchritude. Dark haired, short and skinny, he stood five foot zero and weighed 102 pounds (45 kg) looking like a barely legal street urchin, maybe fifteen or sixteen, an epicene gamin. His petite physique was a visual delight. Taut skin had a good bone structure with narrow shoulders, slender torso, and sharp bladed hip bones. On his flat chest a well-defined midline separated small pectorals accented by tiny nipples. The swale of his lower back lead to a pert rump, the small tight buns jutting out just enough to provide a potential lover a good grab or a good spank.
The youth's complexion was very fair, with skin pale and pearly white and as smooth as any milk maid's and entirely without body hair. Large green eyes dominated the stunning face of the androgynous youth which tapered from a wide brow down a pert nose to a narrow chin. Adding to his fey look his eyes were shaped like almonds and slanted faintly upward above prominent cheekbones. From there the planes of his face tapered to a small mouth with pouty lips just begging to be kissed and a sharp chin. His eyebrows bent in a angle rather than a round arch. He wore his hair in a shaggy cut with bangs and sideburns that framed a face as cute as a kitten's.
As a lover the young wir was exciting, energetic, athletic, physical, and vocal. Good thing for the thick walls. The young giant relished the way his wiry boy-toy squirmed in his of his arms. Slick as he was with sweat, it was hard to keep a grip on Aodh when Finn wanted to roll the boy onto his belly or flip him onto his back.
Grabbing the boy's ankles, Finn opened the slender legs like a wishbone in preparation for an assault on his boy hole. As his cock thrust into the welcoming orifice which grasped his member with its moist velvet walls the young giant relished the way the boy's innards clutched and sheathed his virile member.
From experience with a number of human lads Finn knew just how to make love to sexually submissive boys like Aodh. You didn't want him to just lie there and let you fuck him. You wanted him to fight you, to make the dominant partner work at maintaining his domination and control. And you wanted to make your boy laugh and cry, to moan and whimper, to admit that he desperately wanted the dominant male to work his will on him, to make him do all manner of naughty things, sexual things.
Fortunately a boy's stiff prick made a good control handle, and the shaggy thatch atop his head afforded a good grip during oral service. Gosh Aodh helooked so cute down there, lips closed over his shaft, sucking and slurping, circling the glans with the tip of his tongue, doing everything in his power to drive his partner wild with his buccal ministrations.
In the fullness of time Finn spent himself twice in Aodh's nether orifice triggering the boy's own orgasms. As lovers they were well-matched. Afterwards, in post-coital lassitude, Aodh snuggled upa gainst the young giant who stroked and petted him, running his big hands along the chevron of the boy's ribs, fingering the sharp hip bones, sliding down the smooth skin of his thighs then back up to fondle his buttocks. The cat in Aodh loved the attention and the petting. His supple body was meant to be touched and stroked. Even in human form, Aodh could purr softly when contented, as after sex or a good meal. It was one of his most endearing characteristics.
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