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The Solitary Arrow Ch. 01

By: mack_the_knife



The sun had set, and the high, wispy clouds glowed redly on the western horizon. It was the end of a early fall day, and a splendid one, by the standards of most men. 

The thick growth of the forest obscured most of these details with nature's placid green face. This calm scene was shattered by a single word, a syllable that encompassed frustration, pain, and, most of all, annoyance. "Shit!" Someone screamed. Birds flew from their resting places in nearby branches, and a small deer bolted from the undergrowth in terror at the sound of thudding feet and snapping limbs.

Harlen of Morrovale was chasing the wolf he had just shot. He had managed to wound it grievously, and was gaining on it, but only slowly. 

Several months ago Duke Anasper had placed a bounty on the heads of the wolves. They had reproduced out of control and grown too bold. Shepherds and even isolated farmsteads had been harassed, and a few people had even been killed, along with innumerable sheep and other livestock. The bounty was a silver mark. 

People like Harlen rarely managed to have more than a few coins of such worth in their hands at one time, and that was with careful saving. So, understandably, Harlen was keen on catching the elusive beast.

His thick, powerful legs propelled him like a juggernaut. Pain lanced through his one leg, causing him to wince as he crashed through yet another tight bramble. These shrubs slowed the large man little, and it showed that massing eleven stone had its advantages. Glancing down as he ran through a relatively clear patch of the wood, he saw that his leg was slashed deeply, probably by a broken branch. Hardened by much punishment in his past, this wound barely qualified as a scratch.

He gritted his teeth and ignored the pain as best he could. Blood was now staining his linen pants. He could also see the trail of blood that his quarry dribbled onto the ground and upon low-hanging leaves on shrubs; this fed his will to maintain the pursuit. 

The wolf's blood was black in the diminishing light, against the browns and grays of the woods at that hour, and not easy to see. 

His heart lifted when he finally caught a glimpse of the wolf, leaping behind another clump of ground-hugging scrub. Harlen was nearly upon it. His fist of his left hand tightened upon the grip of the bow until his knuckles shined white. There was an arrow already pressed to the catgut string, ready to be fired quickly. 

He smashed his way past this last obstacle, taking note of a rather wide clearing on the far side of it. As he left the clinging shrubs, he raised his bow and pulled back the arrow to fire. The tightly corded muscles of his bared arms flexed as they fed energy to the bow and the bow creaked quietly as it prepared to release all of that energy in a single, deadly note.

He took aim at the beast's torso when it presented him with a fleeting profile shot as it changed direction. 

Suddenly, another crash sounded in the shrubs to Harlen's right. Just as he loosed the arrow, something hit him in the right side. Harlen fell to the ground, and watched in frustration as the wolf disappeared behind the small trees on the far side of the clearing. 

He cursed the interruption but his colorful words were interrupted by a stray thought – What the blazes had hit him? He began to turn and reach for a hatchet he had tucked through his belt when he heard a voice.

It was a girl's voice, and it sounded afraid. She was yammering in a language he could not recognize as she picked herself up off the ground nearby with her back to him. Apparently she had rebounded from their impact and fallen against the tree, then to the ground. As he looked at her, he realized that it was but a girl, maybe eleven or twelve summers of age, judging from her height and build. Her voice was a very smooth soprano, though. The words she spoke were foreign, yet quite appealing to the ear. 

His first thought was that she was lucky that she ran into him. Some of the other hunters out for the bounty were not as forgiving as he when their quarry is allowed to escape.

He regarded the girl as she reached down toward the ground, bending at the waist, and lifting her own bow out of the grass. She was scantily clad for a young lady, and when she bent, a goodly portion of her backside was visible. Only the middle covered by a loincloth, leaving two rounded lobes on either side. As she started to straighten up again there was another loud crash from the nearby shrubbery. 

Harlen thought that if he had wanted so many people about, he would have stayed in town. He turned to face this onrushing newcomer and saw that it was not a single newcomer, but two. These newcomers, more even than the girl, were most unwelcome.

They were orcs – Foul and vicious creatures that resemble men only in that they had two arms and legs, and something of a small, ugly head. Their skin was deep green and scabby with warts and other malformations. As they charged toward him, they were screaming in their guttural language and spewing curses in the girl's direction. 

The hunter looked for his bow and saw it laying two paces from him. He quickly decided he did not have the time to retrieve and ready an arrow before they would be upon him. He lifted his hatchet from his belt and readied himself for a very ugly, very personal fight.

As the two orcs came charging out of the brambles, they yelled in triumph at seeing the girl, at last, standing still. So intent on their quarry were the orcs that they failed to notice the substantially larger man standing nearby with his brown leather jerkin and gray pants, blending into the background, just a few paces to her left. 

The lead orc was so close to Harlen it was a simple matter to split his skull with the hatchet. His powerful muscles propelled the hatchet in a tight, deadly arc. The orc fell with a short squawk as the hunter's blade buried itself into the creature's brainpan.

The other orc, noticing the motion of Harlen's swing, not to mention his companion's rather messy demise, turned. He was armed with a crudely crafted, and very rusty, scimitar. 

Harlen attempted to bring it down quickly, as he had his partner, with a blow to the skull. The orc nimbly stepped aside, though, and brought the scimitar around in an path that would have disemboweled Harlen had the orc managed to keep its weapon. As the blade swept toward the man's gut, the creature's hand separated from his arm, and there was a high, keening sound, almost like one of those tiny triangles that some minstrels played.

The orc screamed again, his face near Harlen's and blasting the man with a disgusting wash of its fetid breath into his face. He had never had to fight with orcs before, as he usually found them easily avoided. They were tougher opponents than he had supposed, though. They were shorter than a man by over a head, but broader, and seemed to be knit completely of muscle, attached to heavy bones, and with a thick, leathery pelt stretched over all.

As the hunter brought the axe back up and around for another swing, the orc lunged to tear into his neck with its jagged, yellow teeth. Harlen put his gloved left hand on the orc's face and pushed it away from his exposed throat. The orc stumbled back, but quickly recovered and was preparing to set upon him again. 

The orc seemed to not care that its hand was absent, that fact seemed to simply make him angrier. Drawing a wickedly barbed knife with its left hand, the orc, once again, stepped in closer. 

With a grunt, Harlen had already begun his swing. The orc, in his rage, had paid little heed to what the human was doing. The axe struck solidly into the orc's left shoulder, nearly severing that arm. The shock of the blow knocked the hatchet from Harlen's grip, and it stuck for a moment in the orc's flesh, then fell to the ground, alongside the orc's fighting knife. 

Finally, the orc realized he was at a disadvantage. The creature was just turning to flee when an arrow came from the hunter's right and imbedded itself in the orc's barrel-like chest. The orc fell face down onto the ground, gurgling and twitching in its death throes.

Harlen was breathing heavily as he surveyed the two corpses. Then the girl's voice sounded again. "You are unhurt, I hope." She said in a lilting soprano. The voice did not sound right for a young girl, there was no high-end peal to it that marked most young women prior to their adulthood. He turned and discovered that it was also out of place on a girl of more advanced years.

It was no girl at all, but an elven maiden.

He stopped turning as soon as he caught full sight of her, and his limbs froze. He was literally too stunned to move. No elf had been seen in the Duchy for more than fifty years, or so the old-timers said. Harlen simply drank in the image of this legend made real standing before him and regarding him with large, golden eyes. 

"This is the language you speak, yes?" She asked. 

Her hair was the color of autumn, auburn with golden yellow, where the sun had bleached it, and bound into a pony tail, as he himself wore, displaying her elegantly pointed ears extremely well. She stood only to the middle of his chest, and could not weigh more than half his mass, and probably less than that. However, she was shaped perfectly, with gently curving hips and the swelling of small breasts beneath her clothing. Her arms and legs both were shapely with well-toned muscles for all their slenderness.

Her clothing, however, only seemed to cover as much as modesty demanded. It consisted of primarily a cloth half top that ended at her rib line at the bottom and had only two slender straps to her shoulders above her breasts. There was also a short skirt, which hung from her hips loosely and fell only about halfway to her knees. The front section of the loincloth she wore was visible hanging over the top of the skirt. For footwear, she wore boots that were only just taller than her tiny feet and seemed to be sewn from soft leather, probably doeskin. The whole of the outfit was gray in color, like rain clouds.

A slender sheath hung from a chain that looped her waist, with a shortish blade within, from the look of it. She also carried a finely carved bow with a great deal of ornate woodwork in its limbs. A few arrows protruded from over her shoulder, their fletching startlingly white. 

He pulled his wits together and managed to blurt out, "Yes," after a long pause. He felt his limbs relaxing and was able to finish the turn. The elf was beautiful, as one would expect after hearing tales of elven folk. Even the males were said to be lovely. Harlen could not help but think that she was must be counted beautiful among her own folk, for he could feel grace and loveliness radiate from her, like a palpable thing. Something akin to the sense of power one gets seeing a bear. She smiled at him, and his heart missed a beat, so pleased was he to receive even that small gift.

"I chose correctly, and I am gladdened." She said. Her smile was wide, and very open. Her accent was melodic, precise, and smooth, almost like singing. She was not mocking him, but seemed to be truly happy that she had been correct. Her golden eyes flashed as she smiled and Harlen could have sworn that she was about to laugh, so light was her smile. "I am named Hyandai." She pointed to herself with her free hand. Then she bowed at the neck.

The hunter stood mutely for a moment. "I am Harlen of Morrovale." He said, finally. Then tried to impersonate the crisp head bow she had done but only managed to look like he was nodding in agreement with himself. 

With that Hyandai did giggle. He might have been offended but the sound was so lovely that it simply left him feeling glad for having heard it. An image flashed in his mind of water rushing over small pebbles in a stream's bed after a small waterfall, it was soft, and glad, and it was without ridicule. 

She stopped laughing after a brief moment and, with effort, straightened her face. "Well met, Harlen of Morrovale." Her eyes flickered over him briefly. "But you are hurt, Harlen." She said, looking at his injured thigh.

He took the invitation of her roving eye to look more closely at her, as well. His eyes moved down her form, taking in the slim torso and long legs, mostly bared, and the shapely, slender arms, also bared. The hunter had lain with women without ever seeing so much of their skin. It was very nice skin, too, free of blemish or mark and it was fair of color, only barely tanned by the sun. He let his eye linger over the feminine curves of the hips and the small, but nicely shaped breasts. Then his eyes tracked back to her thighs. She bore a wound similar to his own, just below the short skirt. "You are also hurt Hyandai." He said. Then he looked at his own wound, it was not terribly deep, but was painful. "My injury is a paltry thing." He looked at her injury, and blood was sliding slowly down her leg. "That one, however," he pointed at her deep cut, "is bleeding heartily, and you've not the bulk to take that sort of loss, milady."

She looked down and nodded. "You are right, and I should tend it." She said. "Sadly, my talents as a healer are lacking, and the best I can hope for is to staunch the bleeding."

Harlen looked about and spotted a largish stone protruding from the loamy soil of the forest. "Then, lady, sit upon that stone and I will tend it." The huntsman pointed at the rock. "I have some small skill at such things." He smiled lopsidedly. "It's a side effect of the profession I have chosen." He began to remove his pack.

She sat on the stone as requested. Hyandai was watching Harlen with those golden eyes. "If you can do more than I, then I welcome it." She said, lifting her skirt a bit higher to give him room to work, showing him more of that lovely, but wounded, leg.

From the backpack, Harlen produced a small leather roll, tied with rawhide straps. He opened it. There were numerous tiny pockets and pouches sewn into it. He produced a tiny vial from among the pockets and uncapped it. He then knelt beside her, as he held the vial over her wound, he noted a strong smell of cinnamon. He let a couple of drops fall into the wound and she gasped, her whole body tensing up. 

"It will sting only a moment, Hyandai." He assured her, putting a hand on hers, where it rested on her other leg. "Then it will go numb, and the woundwort will also keep the wound from growing pustulant later." 

He returned the vial to its assigned pouch. He then pulled forth a very small needle and a length of thread. He tried to thread the needle three times before Hyandai gently took the needle and thread from him and passed the thread through the eye as if the eye were as large as a finger ring. She smiled and handed it back to him. 

Harlen looked at her tiny hands and slim fingers for a moment, then went back to his task. Stitching the wound shut, working from his left to right, he began to sew the rent in her flesh shut.

"I am making the stitches as small as I am able." Harlen said as he sewed. "There should be little scarring that way. It would be a shame to mar perfection."

She watched as he progressed, her eyes flicking with his fingers. He gave off a slight smell of hard work, of masculine perspiration. Hyandai liked the smell; it reminded her of days when her father would come in from smithing, only somehow more so, with this human. She had always been disappointed when her father had gone to the baths, for it was then time for her bed in those days of her youth. But until that time of the evening had come, he had spoken and played with her, and taught her many things. So, in her memories, the best of her days as a child were when her father smelled of hard work. This human did not really remind her of her father, but the smell of his manhood made her feel safer, and yet, in the same moment, more vulnerable. Each time he dragged the needle through her tender flesh she felt a soft pressure on her thigh, just below her loincloth and she felt a mild current from there twining its way up her spine, like a serpent crawling up a tree.

Harlen was forced to lean close to bite the thread when he had finished his stitch work. As he did, his nose filled with the cinnamon-like odor. It was her skin that smelled thus, he decided, and he inhaled deeply as he bit through the thread.

He sat back and looked at his handiwork. He put a hand above and below the generally horizontal wound, not even realizing that he had part of his upper hand over her loincloth, and thereby over her maidenhood. He tested the stitches by trying to move the flesh of her leg around. The tiny knots held well. Hyandai held her breath to keep herself from gasping. There was, as promised, no pain from the wound, but the woundwort had not in the least deadened any other part of her body, including those delicate parts covered by the loincloth.

He nodded curtly, doing a better imitation, unconsciously, of the Hyandai's little head-bow than he had done when he tried. This caused her to giggle again.

He looked up at her quizzically. "That tickled." She explained, glad that the dimming light prevented him seeing her slight blush of embarrassment.

He put the needle and thread back into their little pouches and secured the roll. She noted that this man was meticulous, something that many elves were not, herself included. He stood up as he put the roll into his small backpack. 

"That should serve." He said, smiling to her. "I wish I could promise no scarring. A leg turned so well on the One's lathe deserves to be free of blemishes."

She blushed at the compliment. "I am certain it will be minimal, due to your skilled hands." She said, smiling at him. "I am in your debt, Harlen." She added.

He took her hand and helped her to her feet. He began to reach for her bow when she turned to him, softly laying her hands upon his broad shoulders, she gently urged him to sit on the rock. 

"It is my turn to do the mending." She said. 

He let himself be seated. Her touch was electric to him, causing sparks to shoot from wherever her hands were, to his spine, to his mind, then radiating out from there to warm him all over. 

Once he was sitting, Hyandai knelt by his side, placing her hands on his thigh almost as he had done when he had finished his work. She leaned forward and nearly kissed the torn flesh. A cool, soothing wash of air came from her lips and moved over the wound. 

Harlen felt a sudden embarrassment when his manhood twitched, then began to harden. Her hands were on very sensitive skin to begin with, and the caressing puff of air simply made the situation worse. He realized with distress that one hand was directly in the line of his extending and swelling organ. 

He tried to turn a little, to dislodge the hand, but this caused Hyandai to tighten her grip and say, "please, do not move," as she cast a playfully annoyed look at him. 

Harlen made a forlorn sound deep in his throat, almost like a whimper. She looked up at him. "Do I pain you?" She asked, at about the same moment that her fingers were lifted from his thigh by his cock swelling, and extending beneath them, one slim finger at a time.

"I beg your forgiveness, lady." He stammered. "I tried to stop it from doing that, I promise." He had a look of genuine panic on his face. 

"It is hardly an insult for my touch to arouse you, Harlen." She gave him a quick flicker of her golden eyes. "For I know that there was a sensation most warm when your hand brushed between my legs." She said and looked at his wound again, her hand still resting on his thickening erection.

She leaned back in and gently breathed upon the wound again. She did this for a minute or so, as Harlen watched in awe. The flesh and muscle of his thigh healed before his eyes, knitting and repairing itself. She finally stopped then kissed the newly healed skin. The kiss sent a bolt of pure, white-hot energy up his leg and caused parts of his mind to melt, he was sure of it. 


The Solitary Arrow Ch. 01



"You are mended, Harlen of Morrovale." She moved her hands off him, and stood up in one graceful motion that caused the hunter to stare. He rose from the stone and looked at his leg. The wound was gone, and in its place was pink, soft skin.

He gaped at her, almost comically. "You heal by magic, milady?" He asked.

"Yes, it is our way." Hyandai said. She picked up her bow from the ground. "We have always done so, but it leaves us without the knowledge of doing it differently, as you obviously possess."

"But, why would you need it?" He asked. "If you can heal, why did you not heal yourself?" He looked a bit confused.

She tilted her head slightly, but smiled generously, and her eyes glittered in the dwindling light. "You noted how I mended you, by blowing my life's breath onto the wound?" She asked him.

"Of course I noticed." He said, somewhat embarrassed.

She shrugged. "And just how limber do you think us elves?" She said, then giggled when his face took on the unmistakable air of realization.

He grinned himself. "I suppose not quite that limber." His face was blushing again.

"Not quite. Also, magic is notoriously fickle when one tries to perform it on oneself." She said. "I could have easily worsened my wound." She explained. "Your way was the best, especially with no other elves about."

He looked around. "Speaking of that, Hyandai, how is it you are alone in the wood?" He asked.

"You are a curious man, Harlen. And questions are good to a point, and that one is certainly worthy." She looked at him. "I am alone because I and my betrothed were waylaid by those orcs." Her face suddenly looked stricken. "I am afraid he may be dead." She said. "He bade me run while he tried to stall them." Tears fell from her eyes. "In my cowardice, I did." Her voice was quaking with both hurt and rage.

Harlen looked at the two bodies lying on the ground. "Were there many?" He asked, rolling one over with his heavy boot and regarding its unappealing visage.

Hyandai nodded in the waning light, and her eyes were still aglitter, but with grief now. "There were a dozen, perhaps more." She said quietly.

He turned to her. "Then do not mar bravery on his part by labeling it cowardice on your part." The hunter said. "Had you stayed, you would have died too. Or worse, be made captive." He looked at her eyes, matching his ice blue against her rich golden. "If he was your betrothed, then he did so willingly, as most any man would have." He broke eye contact. "I know I would." Harlen said quietly.

She looked at him intently. "Would you?" She said. "You'd lay down your life defending me, a person whom you have just met?"

"I would do so even for what I thought you were initially, a young girl of my kind, and would for what you are, a lovely woman." He said, trying to pretend he did not sound trite.

She touched his muscled arm. "I believe you." She said. "And further, I believe that you would lay down your life for most anyone whom you thought needed your help. Harlen, you are a decent and valorous man. I sense it." Her smile in the darkened wood was a flash of white.

"Right now, I am a man who can barely see his hand before his face." Harlen said. He rummaged in his back and brought out a small leather pouch. He opened the pouch and light shot up into the sky. He pulled out a glass or crystal orb that radiated light, brighter than a torch.

"A calyondo!" Hyandai exclaimed smiling and blinking at the sudden brightness until Harlen wrapped his fingers about it, cutting off a portion of its intense glare.

The hunter looked at her. "Cally-ando?" He asked.

She giggled at herself, then said "A stone of light." She pointed to the crystalline orb. "We used to trade those to the humans of these lands." She tilted her head slightly. "That one still shines brightly after all these years." She said, her eyes reflecting the glowing orb.

Harlen looked at it. "It was my grandmother's." He said, then looked at Hyandai. "She is fascinated by your folk, and spent much time listening to tales from our minstrels and storytellers about the elves." He shrugged. "The stone seemed to never fade in its light, and now it serves me well."

She wondered at that as she watched him walk toward the tree. "Harlen. I am alone now. May I beg your company, for the night, at least?" Hyandai asked.

The hunter stopped and turned, a look of dismay on his face. "Must you ask?" He said. "I would have thought it obvious that your company was more than welcome." He shook his head. "Perhaps I assumed too much with you, thinking myself an open book to your alert eyes."

She smiled widely. "Then I am glad. For the night is not of itself frightening, but these unknown wilds are." Hyandai said as she walked up to him. "I regret that I have none of the needed supplies for camping, having lost my pack during my flight from the orcs."

"We will manage." Harlen said, and took her hand. It was warm and soft in his grip. Her fingers curled around his own hand as she accepted the touch and followed his light into the woods. "I want to get away from those two, in case their friends come looking for them." The hunter said, his stalker's mind taking over. "We will travel a half hour then make our camp."

He palmed the calyondo and proceeded into the wood. His grip was strong, and seemed nearly unbreakable to her, though he held her only lightly. She watched his movements through the underbrush. He was cautious and they moved somewhat slowly. She was impressed when a branch barred their progress; he elbowed it back and held it for her to pass. This limb was thicker than her arm around, and would have been far beyond her ability to push out of the way even straining with both arms.

Hyandai knew this man was no hardened warrior, but she felt safer in his presence. His broad back and strong arms made her to think of the tree men of the glades in her homelands. They were powerful, but very slow. Harlen had proven he could and would move quickly at need, unlike those tree men, whom never rushed at anything, even saving their own lives. 

At last, they came to a small clearing, where a small fire pit had been dug. He nodded. "This was my camp last night, I thought I could find it again." His released her hand and uncovered the glowing sphere fully, letting its light fill the tiny clearing. Harlen reached behind one of the larger trees around the edge of the clearing, and retrieved several pieces of wood.

With the setting of the sun, the air had grown a bit chill. Elves, in general, did not grow cold easily, but they were comforted by a fire as much as any man. She watched as he placed the wood and used a piece of flint from his pack to start some punk burning, and with that lit the fire. After a few minutes, he had the small fire going nicely, crackling and its light throwing dancing shadows on the trees surrounding the clearing. He carefully put his glowing sphere back in its leather pouch and pulled the mouth shut.

The stone's pouch went into the pack, and a folded cloth came out in the same motion. Harlen walked up to Hyandai and unfurled the cloth beside her. It was a thin blanket. He again took in her cinnamon scent as he stood near her, letting the blanket settle onto the soft grass that carpeted the clearing. "It is not much, Hyandai, but it is your bower for the night." He said. Then stood and walked around the fire and sat on the far side.

Her golden eyes followed his movements, and she watched him sit. "And you will sleep where?" She asked, her eyes flicking to the blanket, then back to him.

"It will not be my first time to sleep under the stars with naught above me but my shirt." He said, smiling. "I will lie here." He said, patting the ground beside him.

She sat on the blanket; it was quite large, if thin. "No, huntsman, you will lie on your blanket, by my side. We are garbed. There is no worry." When she saw him prepare to protest, she added. "Please, the night is cooling, and I would share your warmth."

He relented in his eyes. "Very well, milady." He said, standing. "But I snore." He warned her. Smiling as he stood and walked back to the blanket. He sat down near her, and laid back, facing the sky. She laid down as well, and cast the other half of the cloth over them. It sufficed, barely, to cover the two of them. The paucity of cover behooved them to lie quite closely, not that either seemed to mind.

He could smell her scent strongly now, and he said. "You smell of cinnamon, Hyandai, it is very appealing." Then sniffed the air appreciatively.

Hyandai giggled at his words. "Well, Harlen, you smell of a day's hard work." She said, and gave a small sniff of her own.

"I apologize, but I was unaware I would have company this night in my blanket, or I would have bathed today." Harlen replied, a tinge of worry edging into his voice.

Again, Hyandai laughed. "Do not apologize. The smell of work is hard won, and I did not say that I found it less than pleasant." She smiled in the darkness, watching the shadows from the fire play among the leaves over them. "In fact, it brings me fond memories of another man, one whom I loved."

Harlen did not know what to say to that, so he left it be. 

Suddenly she said. "Did you know your name has an elven meaning?" Hyandai turned onto her side to look at him. "It means 'The Wide South' in our tongue. That is the name of the lands south of our country, you would call it Ghant."

The hunter looked at her pretty face in the near dark and smiled. "Really? You call Ghant Harlen? What does your name mean, Hyandai?" He asked.

She looked a bit nervous, or at least hesitant, then said. "My name means 'a small blade.'" Then she laughed nervously.

Harlen laughed too, "Small blade?" He asked. "It's a bit, well, small sounding."

She nodded and her arms came from beneath the blanket. She reached over her head, where she had laid her weapons. She brought down her scabbard, and drew forth the weapon within. It was indeed a small blade, only a finger's width wide and a bit longer than his forearm. She handed the pommel to him and he took it. It was airy light. He touched the blade and it was terribly sharp, however, keener than the barber's razor in Morrovale. "This is a hyandai?" he asked.

She nodded as he returned the pommel to her. "Yes. It was my mother's weapon, and, as she passed when I was young, the name stuck since I refused to take it off even as a young child." She resheathed the sword and put it back over her head.

Harlen looked at her. "We have a similar weapon, called a rapier." He said. "Though they tend to not be quite so sharp." He turned onto his side, also facing her. "You are skilled with the bow. I saw that much. Are you a warrior?"

She laughed heartily at that. A glorious sound that filled the clearing, and made him laugh. "I am not a warrior, Harlen. I am but a maiden who was forced to travel." She looked up at the weapons above their heads, their bows, her sword, and his axe. "All my folk are expected to be proficient in the rudiments of weapon use." She said. "Our numbers are too few to rely solely upon dedicated soldiery, as humans are wont."

He hummed as if considering this. And watched her beautiful eyes. He liked looking at them, though they disquieted him somewhat. They seemed to gather the flickering light from the fire and concentrate the energy into themselves. Thus, they seemed brighter than the surrounding area. She noticed his stare and said. "My eyes seem to be being watched."

Harlen blinked. "I'm sorry," he said, "but I've never seen eyes of that color before. They look like gold to me, burnished and ancient and priceless."

She smiled at that. "Your own are unusual to me. Among elves blue eyes are exceptional." She glanced away. "They make me think of the summer sky, warm and endless."

Harlen blushed at those kind words. "Well, milady." He stammered. "We have to look after your betrothed on the morn, so best we sleep." He said, and closed his eyes.

She took her hand from his shoulder, not even realizing she had left it there, and laid upon her back, regarding the flickering shadows more.

After some minutes, they both drifted off to sleep.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next morning found Hyandai awake before Harlen. She slowly became aware that she was being held, then her golden eyes snapped opened and she inhaled sharply. She felt his arm over her and the other arm under her, pillowing her head. The one above was across her chest and came down from there to pull her close to his body. 

It was not at all an unpleasant feeling, the strength in those arms lent to a general sense of security to this wild place. She could also feel his breathing against her neck and ear, again, the warmth of his breath was quite pleasurable, she found. 

Despite his warning, his snoring was minor and simply served as a relaxing and steady sound to lull her to sleep last night. She liked the feeling of being held and protected as she slept, and she liked the warm feeling it gave her in her belly. Then she realized she also felt something else.

His manhood was pressed against her backside, and it was quite obviously roused. She could even, through the fine material of her loincloth and his rough twill pants, feel its swollen head. The men of the Faith in the Western Realms were circumcised, she had heard, but had never seen such. Elves were not wont to circumcise their youths. 

She was not terribly alarmed by all this, though. Often young ladies among her friends had commented that elven youths had such arousals in their sleep, caused by dreams. No doubt the dreams were quite exciting, she guessed. After a moment, she had to admit that knowing what was pressing against her did not bother her at all. In fact she was uncomfortably aware of her own body's reaction at the contact, so much so that she feared he might notice when he awoke if they were still so closely touching.

Hyandai was unsure how to move, though, without causing that event. If she moved, he would probably wake up. She lifted her head and looked down. His body was folded behind hers, in the same position forming two roughly zigzag lines. She wiggled her hips a bit, to see if she could push her pelvis forward a few inches. She succeeded, but then he moved to match her and now his organ was no longer pressed against her backside. It was standing out from his body. His manhood was still within his breeches, yes, but now pressing directly toward her now quite stimulated opening. 

Her eyes grew wide with alarm, not at the event, but at her rather surprising excitement from it. She was growing quite inflamed now, despite her own desire to not do so, and she could feel the loincloth growing slightly damp with her moisture.

He suddenly twitched, causing his organ to push at her opening, actually parting the lips of her opening within her loincloth. A shudder of pleasure ran through her, and she found herself pushing back toward him now. Then he laid still again, his erect penis poised just outside of her slit. Only the layers of thin cloth prevented him from entering her. Then she felt his pole softening, the head sliding over her rump as it grew limp, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Then she noticed she was breathing in short gasps. She had been very excited or scared. Given the situation, she had to guess excited. A part of her, a part she kept well subdued by her will, cursed the cloth. As his organ fully went flaccid, that part screamed for her to awaken the man and take him, and take him now. She forced that part of herself back, and smothered it with her will.

She relaxed and simply laid there enjoying the feeling of being held and warmed by him. He seemed to hum, though no sound came from his lips, except his slow breathing. She would not have minded staying in such comfort all day, were it allowed.

Once his erection had fully subsided, she pushed back as she had been before, holding her pelvis forward as she had been was a bit of an effort. She let her head rest fully on the muscular, but relaxed arms, and started to doze off again herself. Then he awoke. His eyes opened wide and he inhaled mightily.

Harlen came to consciousness rapidly when he felt Hyandai shift in his arms. Then he realized she was in his arms! He snapped to wakefulness and gasped. He lifted his upper arm off of her and rolled to his back. She lifted her head and looked back at him, a look of slight peevishness on her face. 

Harlen immediately assumed her peeved look was based upon upset with him. "Milady, I did not!" He exclaimed slowly removing his arm from beneath her now raised head. "I did not mean to take privileges of you in your sleep." He looked horrified, but not at her, she guessed, but at being thought forward. "I. Uh. I wasn't aware I had moved into a position of such familiarity with you. I am sorry."

She rolled over toward him. "Your 'familiarity' kept the chill from the last night." She said, smiling at him. "I thank you for it." She then leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Without your warm body I would surely have taken cold." She rather enjoyed this game of comforting him when he thought he had offended. Humans were, obviously, very strict with their rules of courtship and friendliness. Elves were, as well, but the rules were subtly different, and those differences showed themselves glaringly on occasion.

Harlen touched his cheek where she had planted the small kiss. "I did?" He asked, then said. "I am happy to have been of service, then." His mouth twisted up into a crooked smile.

She stood up and stretched languidly. "You certainly did, Harlen of Morrovale." She said, when she had finished the catlike stretch. She looked down. "I have rarely slept more comfortably nor felt more secure in all my days."

The hunter sat up, and propped his arms on his knees. "In all your days? And what might those be? I hear elves are immortal."

She looked at him with wide eyes and then giggled at him. "Immortal?" She said, "By the spirits, no, we are as mortal as humans." Her hand touched the spot on her leg. "Did not that look like the meat of the living that you sewed with such skill?"

Harlen nodded. 

"Nay, sir, we live long, yes, but we are far from immortal." She looked down at him again. "I am fifty-nine summers of age." She finally said. "And I am considered to recently be marriageable by my folk." Her golden eyes dropped, sadly. "That led to my betrothal to Eleean." She shook her head, then smiled at Harlen. "What is your count, then?" She said, her eyes sparkling.

He shrugged. "I probably seem a whelp, then, to your eyes. I am but twenty-four years." He said, standing up, and picking up the blanket.

Hyandai thought for a moment, then nodded to herself. "Then we are actually quite closely matched, in the reckoning of each of our folk." She explained. "Were I human, I would be aged twenty years, perhaps nine and ten." She reached down and fetched up her weapons.

This time, Harlen did the thinking, then spoke. "Then you live for almost two hundred years?" He asked, his voice full of awe.

"Yes." Hyandai replied. "Some live longer, many shorter, but two hundred would not be considered exceptional." She nodded. "We are long-lived, as I said, but far from immortal." 

Her eyes were bright with the realization that this man was indeed a smart one; he had done the mental math to calculate the elven span without fingers, toes, or paper. She added this to her tally sheet of his measure, and he was adding up quite handsomely. She giggled at the image this fostered in her mind, and then set about pushing dirt over the smoldering ashes of the fire.

Her clothes somewhat smelled of his odor, and she lifted her short tunic's hem to her nose and sniffed with relish while Harlen was occupied with gathering his own weapons. Her mind was pleased at the thought of his scent on her all day for her to enjoy.  




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 01



For his part, Harlen could smell Hyandai on the blanket and himself, and was definitely not displeased with that. He finished folding the thin blanket and put it in his little pack. Then he stooped and picked up his bow and hatchet. 

"What do we do now?" Harlen asked, looking around their empty little camp.

"I must try to find Eleean, and learn if he lives or not." Hyandai said. "This is something I have to do. I will not ask it of you."

He hefted his bow onto his back. "You needn't ask. It is given." He said. "Which way do we travel, then?"

Her heart leapt when he said this, knowing it meant that he would be beside her a while longer. She had to admit to herself that she enjoyed his company immensely, and took comfort from his presence. 

She pointed south and east. "That way," she said. "toward the rocky hills."

Harlen nodded. "Orcs dwell in those hills." He murmured. "It surprises me little that you would encounter them there. The duke has been unsuccessful in rooting them out." He aimed his blue eyes in that direction. "Then are we ready to go?" He asked Hyandai.

She smiled and stepped beside him, and they set off, walking side by side. She walked so close to him that their arms brushed one another from time to time. He never noticed her taking surreptitious glances in his direction, studying his movements, and watching his face. In the same vein, she did not notice his looks in her direction nor the air of pleasure he seemed to be radiating.

They had walked not ten minutes when she saw something that made her stomach rumble. It was a plum tree, and some of its fruit was ripened, weighing down the tree's limbs with their plump mass. 

"Saipior!" Hyandai cried, breaking into a run, then shouted over her shoulder. "Plums!" In Harlen's own tongue of Westron. 

He set off after her at a jog. By the time he got there she had plucked one down and was half finished with it. She moaned at the quality of the flavor. "These are perfect." She said around a mouthful of pulp.

Harlen chuckled and plucked himself one. He popped the entire plum into his mouth and split the skin with his teeth. Making a pretty funny face, he managed to extract the pit from the meat, and he fired it out away from them. 

She laughed at his method of eating, but said. "Your way of eating them is quite effective, but seems a bit beyond me."

She tried to mimic his technique, but her small mouth would not accommodate the entirety of the plum, so she had to content herself with simply taking bites from them and making rather crude slurping sounds.

After each had eaten half a dozen, Harlen looked at her. 

"Somehow, I thought elves to be somewhat more fastidious eaters." He said, propping his back against the trunk of the plum tree.

Wiping a mass of juice and pulp from her lower lip, she said. "Most elves have not been without food for almost a full day and then presented with such delicious fruit." Her eyes were aglitter with the morning sun and her beauty in her moment of joy smote his heart. 

The spell was partially broken when she threw a plum at him. He caught it deftly, popping it into his mouth. 

As Hyandai turned to pluck down more fruit, a seed shot past her on a trajectory that would have caught her in the back of the head but a half moment before, had she not just moved. 

She cast a mock look of anger at Harlen, and he looked away, trying to whistle through a mouthful of plum meat. 

She hurled another at him, and again he held up a massive hand and caught it. He did not, however, catch the second that she had thrown with her other hand a half-second after the first. It ricocheted off his shoulder, breaking the soft skin over the very juicy plum. The meat splattered onto his cheek. He looked stunned for a brief moment, as the plum slid down his cheek, then fell to the ground, and bits of it slid more slowly down his cheek.

His hand closed on the plum he had caught, and it ruptured with an audible, slimy noise. There was a fire in his eyes as he lunged toward her. She had a very brief look of panic, then saw the smile he was wearing, and with a playful shriek she took off running.

The rules of the game were simple. If he caught her, he was going to smash plum juice into her face. If she eluded him, until he was winded, she would remain unsullied. 

It was a very old game, and both knew the rules without speaking. Children of both races played it, or a variation of it. She could not leave the vicinity of the plum tree. That rule was cardinal. She could not run straight for very far, not that straight-line running would have helped her long, she noted, his much longer legs would have outpaced her quickly.

She changed course erratically. And dived under his outstretched arms more than once. Her elven reflexes were uncanny in his eyes. But his speed and power were amazing to her.

He pursued her around the tree for almost a full minute before she made a critical mistake and misjudged her lunge to elude him. His hand clasped her arm in what was, to her, an unbreakable grip. He did not bear down, did not hurt her, but the fingers would not open, and she was caught. His hand came around, filled with plum pulp. She felt the soft, sweet fruit's moist interior against her nose first. 

He intended to do this slowly, and make her suffer through every moment of it. 

It slid up her nose, and next the pulp coated her cheeks, covering them in gooey sweet nectar. He brought the mass of the plum meat down toward her mouth, which she opened obligingly, knowing the rules of the game. He pushed some of it inside her mouth and then smeared the rest on her chin.

Both of them were breathing heavily, panting, and they were both smiling. 

Harlen leaned close to her. "No girl ever escaped me at that game, milady." He said into her ear. She chewed the plum in her mouth and looked at him, her eyes full of mirth.

"You are a cunning opponent, Harlen." She said. "But you have yet to claim your prize." She added, swallowing the pulp. She turned to him. "As the defeated party, I am ready to suffer the punishment for loss." She said, holding her head up defiantly, as if a defeated enemy commander, ready to suffer execution.

He turned to her again. "You follow those rules, too, in your lands?" He said, and smiled. "Then I will claim my prize, for both my hurt and my victory, and in the name of the Duchy of Morrovale and all humans." He said, as if making a pronouncement, placing one foot up on a root of the plum tree and striking a rather ludicrous pose. 

Then he leaned in and kissed her, full on the lips. It was no perfunctory thing, either, but a good, solid connection. Her breath stopped while he kissed her, and she felt her legs turn weak. His legs joined hers in becoming a bit unsteady, but he held fast. He then inhaled, breathing in her cinnamon scent, it was somehow stronger now, and that he thought was nothing but a good thing. 

The kiss ended, and then he did something that she never expected. He licked the pulp from one cheek. His tongue was massive to her, and covered most of the cheek, but it was soft, and supple, and left her cheek cleaner than it had been.

She pawed at the just licked cheek. "Ech!" She said. "You licked me!" She was smiling a toothy grin, though. And she was glad at having something to say, for it prevented her just shyly tittering.

Harlen looked around. "Do you see a brook, or a pond about?" His eyes were wide. "We've only one way to get clean, and given that the pulp will become sticky if we let it dry." He gave her a look.

This was not technically part of the game, as she knew it, but seemed a rather pleasant variation.

"Very well, then, Harlen of Morrovale." She said, walking toward him. "But as the lady, I demand to be able to go first." She added. He stood still and she walked up to him. She giggled. "You need to bend down a bit, you giant." She said. He got down on his knees, putting his head at her chest level. "Much better." 

She leaned forward, and kissed his cheek with her mouth open, her tongue came out and licked the skin, and she gently sucked as she closed her mouth, taking the bits of meat and the juice with it. She repeated this procedure down his cheek, then onto his neck where the pulp had run. He gasped when she first kissed then sucked upon his neck, it sent jolts of pleasure through him, and he was glad she had her eyes closed. His pants were stretched out badly from his rapidly growing rod. After what seemed a bit longer than necessary, she stood up. 

"There. You are now clean." Hyandai said.

Harlen stood up and turned away for a moment, moving his organ to the side, and trying to get it to stop protruding quite so much.

She watched this activity, but pretended to not notice his discomfort, or his large erection. The persistent voice in the far recesses of her mind screamed in frustration.

When he turned back around, she was standing there with her eyes closed and an expectant look on her face. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then cleaned it, tasting the mixed taste of cinnamon and plum. He then cleaned the other cheek, and even licked her nose, causing her to wrinkle it up in a quite adorable fashion. 

He then moved to her chin, just below her lips. As he kissed there, her mouth opened slightly, and he made sure that upon licking the pulp up, he let his tongue brush over them. 

Her breath was being taken in short gulps of air, but he barely noticed since he was breathing in much the same way. 

He worked his way down, beneath her chin to her slender throat. She lilted her head back and he saw the cords of her neck stand out as she did so. Harlen licked and kissed his way down to her collarbone. Moving around the neck to the juice that had dripped from her cheeks, he thoroughly cleaned her skin, one side then the other.

He leaned back then looked down, where her top was holding her breasts in. There was a tiny trickle of juice still slowly working down one breast, then taking a quick turn to descent between them. He leaned down and caught it before it could disappear forever down her cleavage, and licked his way over the softly curving top of her breast, and then onto her chest and back to her collar.

Hyandai gasped at the intimate contact, and her body twitched. She looked down at him. "I wondered when you would stop that one." She said, trying to sound casual, but her voice was a bit quivery.

Harlen leaned back, licking his lips. "I was awaiting it deciding what path to follow." He said, grinning. 

They were now reasonably clean and quite satisfyingly full of plums. They both gathered their bows and proceeded southeast.

Hyandai was feeling a bit guilty that she was enjoying herself when her betrothed, Eleean, was quite likely dead, or dying. 

She did not love Eleean. He had been selected by her clan, not chosen by her heart. He was a good man from what she had seen, and she probably would have come to love him, in time. Though her heart mourned him, as it would any person she knew was probably dead, it did not shatter, as it would have for someone she truly loved. 

Still, she thought, she should not have been playing childish kissing games when he was likely dead at he hands of those foul creatures.

Hyandai had only met Eleean three days before yesterday, and they had formally plaited their betrothal before the representatives of his and her clans. It was an unemotional ceremony, as many elven ones were – elegant and beautiful, to be sure, but lacking in passion and gladness. The first day they spent in preparation of their journey, unlike most betrothed, who spent the first day after the ceremony becoming very acquainted with one another in a most personal way. 

The following day they had set out. The two had still not yet consummated their betrothal, and she was still a maiden. A dreadful humor was it that Harlen, in his sleep, had managed to come much closer to that particular achievement than did Eleean.

Elves, she concluded, were too entwined in their need for ceremony. Without a proper bower and surroundings, and even the right foods and such, Eleean would never have attempted to bed her. She had no doubt that the large, powerful human beside her would do so, on the ground, right now, with people watching, if she but asked it.

The rather forbidden thought sent chills down her spine. She, once again, had to thrust back thoughts and images that came unbidden to her mind's eye, sent from places in her mind that were best left unvisited.

Humans were much more impetuous than most elves. Harlen had enough meticulousness to make that not seem so dangerous in and of itself, but he was still prone to fits of whimsy that would probably take her utterly by surprise and be unbelievably thrilling. 

She chuckled to herself. She had always been called impetuous by her clansmen. They often advised her to control her fey better, and be less 'human.'

It was mostly a joke, though there were those that did think that humans and elves once interbred much more commonly than today. Perhaps she did have a small bit of human essence to her. It was not all bad. Her quick wit and ability to adapt had served her well over the years. The same clansmen had said that it limited her eligibility for marriage, but she could not change who she was, and really did not seek to.

Harlen, for his part, wondered that this elegant creature beside him had allowed him to kiss her, much less seemed to enjoy it as much as he did. He was amazed that she seemed to like him and, more importantly, was attracted to him. Unsure as he was, he started to feel that she was sending him the very 'signals' that he and other men had discussed for many an hour at the Pierced Boar, over beer and ale.

He was not blind, and saw how she watched him when he was doing things. However, Harlen would remain the gentleman, and would let her decide if and when things would happen. Another part of his mind wished fervently she would do so.

Harlen's worst fear was that he would scare or offend this beautiful maiden, and she would disappear back into the woods whence she came.

He had told Hyandai of his grandmother's fascination with elven folk, but not of the fact that she had passed that fascination down to her only grandchild. Just seeing one would have thrilled him for years to come, but now he had kissed her, lain beside her, and even tended her wounds. He would not want for any amount of time for things to think of in all that. However, the desire for good things being what it was, he certainly did not want it to end unless it must.

They slowly passed the transition from the woods to the stony slopes of the eastern hills. This was a range of low but steep-walled hillocks and a land of hidden ravines and secret grottos. Harlen told Hyandai that his people called these hills the Wayreen Hills, an ancient Syrisian word that meant ill portents.

Around them the trees gave way to smaller scrubby plants, and the ground became treacherous with slick, broken fragments of stone. Small flat shale stones that were wont to slide against one another and leave a person with their feet shooting out from under them. 

They proceeded cautiously, as there was little cover in this area. At Harlen's suggestion, they both drew forth an arrow, and set them to the strings of their bows. Without his suggestion they both held their bows in white-knuckled grips. As Harlen had said, it was orc country, and the monsters could be anywhere in it.

She said. "We are near to where they attacked Eleean and me." Her voice was almost a whisper.

Harlen simply nodded and looked over the next rise in the scalloped shoulders of the hills. "I think I see where they ambushed you." He said after dropping back down.

Hyandai peered over the ledge. Then she ducked back down beside him. "Yes, that is the place." She agreed. "I did not see any orcs about, though."

Harlen looked again. "I see none, either." He said, and climbed over the lip. 

Hyandai followed close on his heels. They approached the scene of the fight. Three orcs laid dead there, along with the body of Eleean, the hunter guessed, though he lay face down. He had been hewn badly, and was defiled beyond even that. 

"I'm sorry, Hyandai." He said when he heard her start to weep.

Then they heard the sound of a rock falling from the scree nearby. "'Ere, now. I told you I heard something!" A guttural voice yelled as the couple spun around. "It's that little bunny what escaped us yesterday." They spun to see six orcs sliding and tumbling down a nearby slope of loose scree. Two were huge brutes, and the other four of the smaller sort, like had been chasing Hyandai in the wood.

One of the other orcs said. "We're going to have us some fun with that one, eh?" He leered at Hyandai, drawing out a massive scimitar. 

The two large ones looked intently at Harlen. Their eyes gleamed murderously red. "First, we're going to deal with that one!" One said, pulling a club as big as Harlen's leg from behind himself, where it had been hooked to the creature's belt.

Mercifully, the entire group was on one side of the couple. Harlen and Hyandai spun to face them. 

Harlen brought up his bow and aimed at the neck of the leading large orc. The arrow was on its way before the orc even realized the human had a bow, its eyes widened as the arrow sank to the fletching in his leathery neck.

Hyandai fired an instant later, hitting one of the smaller orcs in the chest, and spinning him about, as if he were struck by a spear. The arrow had pierced right through the metal plates on his jerkin.

Both of these orcs fell, the large one slowly, gurgling as he dropped to his great knees and then keeling over onto his face. The small one fell as well, spinning as the arrow thudded into his chest and sending him sprawling across the ground.

The other large orc said. "Now, that weren't very friendly, were it? Eh boys?" It asked.

The next thing Harlen saw was a huge stone flying directly toward his head, as if fired by a catapult. He very nearly dodged it, but it clipped his skull and sent him reeling. He fell to his knees upon the scree and fought to retain consciousness.

Hyandai was already firing, and another of the smaller orcs fell. The barbed head pierced his gut and sent him to the ground, squealing loudly in agony.

"Shut him up, Snatbug." The remaining large orc shouted. "Or he'll bring down more boys, and I don't want to share our little bunny. Leastwise not yet." One of the smaller orcs looked down at his fallen companion with cold eyes. He then brought his scimitar around and down, and severed the screaming orc's head, even as the downed orc held up a hand imploringly. The orc's blood showered the stones for many feet. 

Harlen managed to regain his feet, but the big one was on him. Its fist drove into the hunter's chest like a ram, knocking him sprawling to the ground. 

The other small orc, one of two left, managed to get a swing in at Hyandai, and forced her back. She dropped her bow and drew out her rapier with a fast, quiet hiss of steel on leather.

The little one said. "Lookie there. Our little bunny has a claw, maybe she's a pussy cat instead." He leered at Hyandai and stuck out an amazingly long tongue, waggling it at her. 

With a lightning fast twitch of her wrist, the first four inches of that tongue separated from the remainder and fell to the ground. The orc recoiled and screamed. It was yelling something incomprehensible, made even more so by his missing tongue.

The other small orc laughed at his companion's misfortune. "Cat got your tongue, Grizzleslot?" He said, cuffing the back of the tongueless orc's head. "Put down your sword, stupid." He grated. "We won't be able to have fun with her later if you cut her up." The two began to move closer to the elf maiden.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 01



The massive orc punched Harlen again in the ribs as he lay gasping on the ground. There was a horrible crackling sound as the ribs broke and blood shot from his mouth. He coughed and fell unconscious.

The big orc turned to look down the slope at the two smaller ones moving toward the elven girl. "Ere, you two, move apart, she can't watch two ways at one time." He said, then he looked around and soon found a small stone, about the size of a human fist, and hefted it. 

As Hyandai watched the two as they moved apart, and prepared to thrust at one, the big orc cocked his hand back.

She lunged and sunk the blade into Grizzleslot's chest. His leathery hands came up to grip the blade, but the edge simply slid through his fingers and the amputated digits pattered to the ground as she whipped the blade around to strike at the other orc.

The big orc hurled the stone, striking Hyandai right behind the ear. With a soft moan, she collapsed to the ground. 

The big orc moved to her and tore the pants off of Grizzleslot. He then ripped them into several lengths of cloth. He used the cloth to tie knots about her wrists and ankles. 

"This one will be a lot of fun." He said, winking at Snatbug. The little one was immensely excited. "Tie that man up, Snat, so we can enjoy his pain later, if he lives." 

Snatbug scurried up the hill and bound Harlen's hands and the big one hefted Hyandai over his shoulder, the little one dragged Harlen until the big one grabbed him up, as well, and put the man over his other shoulder. 

"Don't forget to snatch up their gear, them's good-looking weapons. Then come to the cave." The big orc said, huffing in pleasure over his good fortune this day.

************* Author's Notes *************

I would like to thank all the readers of The Solitary Arrow for their ongoing commentary and criticism regarding this work. I am constantly striving to better the quality of this tale and welcome all constructive criticism and corrections. (EDIT 1.3)



The Solitary Arrow Ch. 02



The smaller orc muttered then scurried off and began gathering up the fallen equipment. The larger orc carried the two some distance back up the scree then through another ravine. He finally came to a cleft in the stone walls of a short sheer-sided cliff. With a mighty heave, he used his shoulder to shove back a stone that blocked the majority of a concealed entrance, revealing a short passage that led to a small cave. He dragged the two in behind him and dropped them negligently to the floor. He liked his secret cave, few other orcs knew about it, and most of them were now dead. He was going have fun with this elf girl for a long time before he killed her. 

A few moments later, Snatbug came in with the booty from their adventure and looked at the girl, his red eyes gleamed with lust. "We going to have a go at her, then?" He asked.

"Well, I'm going to fuck her, then when I'm done, if I decide to take a break, you might grab a bit of her ass." The big orc said, taking a swat at his smaller cousin. "Right now, I'm going to go report to the captain that they tried to ambush us and killed the other boys, then ran away." He said. "You go outside and watch out over the fight spot."

Both the orcs left the cave, then there was a grinding sound as the stone was pushed back into place.

A few minutes later, Hyandai's eyes fluttered open. Her head felt like a drum. Pain pulsed with each beat of her heart, causing her to wince. The stench that struck her nose was horrid. She looked around and saw Harlen. He was barely breathing, and blood was bubbling from his lips. He would die soon, she thought. She squirmed in her bonds and managed to get her head pointed toward him and rolled onto her belly. She inched her way, painfully, across the floor. 

When she finally reached his head, she leaned over his face and pressed her lips to his. She breathed into him, forcing his lungs to expand. She could hear the sickening sound of his ribs sliding over each other inside his chest but she pushed on. Another deep breath and she blew again, expanding his lungs farther this time. After a handful more breaths and she could no longer hear ribs moving. Her healing breath was repairing the damage as it inflated the punctured lungs, and moving the broken ribs back into place. She exhaled into him a half dozen more times, unsure how badly hurt his insides were, and wanting to be as sure as she could. He seemed to be breathing normally now.

"Harlen, awaken." She said into his ear. He murmured something but did not wake up, he was still groggy from the shock. She bit his ear sharply, he yelled something incoherent and awakened. His eyes popped open as he tried to sit up. But, his hands were bound behind his back, and he fell again.

"Where are we?" He asked, his face panic-stricken

She looked around. "Some cave the orcs have thrown us in. I think they will not be gone long." She twisted her wrists. "I can not unbind my hands." She said, her voice took on a sorrowful note. "I will be raped when they return."

Harlen nodded, grunting as he struggled with his bonds. "I wish I could help." He said, then he fell down again. "I'll keep trying to get loose."

She shook her head. "We need them to think you near death." She said. "If you can free yourself while they are otherwise occupied with me, you may be able to surprise them."

"I can't accept that, Hyandai." Harlen said, still straining at the bonds that securely kept his wrists locked together. "I wish there were some way for me to help you." He grunted through his teeth, pulling on the cloth knots.

"There is not." She said. Then her eyes flashed. "I know of only one thing." She looked at him. "Would you risk your sanity for me? You did say you would risk your life, but your sanity may be a dearer thing."

Harlen nodded. "Of course I would." He smiled lopsidedly. "My sanity is in oft called into doubt, regardless."

She giggled a little at that. "Then look into my eyes, time is short." She could hear the big orc returning, yelling at his subordinate. 

Harlen stared into her golden eyes, which was something he liked to do anyway, actually. Hyandai returned the stare, gazing into his fathomless blue eyes. With a last sigh, she let herself fall into them. Harlen's head slammed back, as if he had been struck across the bridge of his nose. He could feel his mind shift in his skull, and felt as part of himself was shoved aside, and then something filled the newly vacated space. 'I am with you now.' Hyandai said, and her lips did not move, for her voice was inside his own head. He faintly heard an echo in the elven tongue. 'Most of me is here, anyway.' She amended. 'I have need to speak. Just relax and let me use your voice.'

He tried to do as she said, and then heard himself speaking elven. Her body responded by saying something back in a happy sing-song voice. Hyandai then looked at him. "You seem a nice man, and speak good elven." She said. "When the orcs are finished making a woman of me, you will lie with me also?"

Harlen, still confused, said "Gladly, beautiful maiden." The body that was Hyandai giggled, then lay there with a look of pleased expectation on her face.

'What did you tell her?' He thought.

She replied. 'I told her the nice orcs were coming to deflower her and to not be scared, it is the normal way, so she now thinks.' There was a pause in the mind-speech. 'She is like a child, Harlen. Only a small portion of me is still lies within her mind. Now, grab your pack and lie still.'

He did as she said again, the stone was being forced aside. Two orcish voices could be heard as they crawled back into the cave. "Okay, you can have a poke at her when I've finished, right?"

Sullenly, the smaller one replied. "Like it'll be any fun after you've taken your club to her. But, a beggar must take what he can get, eh?"

Gorepole laughed at that. "Then bugger her in the ass, like I says. I'll leave it for you, you're a good mate." The big orc came over to the two people. "This one's gonna live, maybe." He said. "We'll have fun with him later, though." 

He grabbed up Hyandai roughly by her shoulders and looked at her. 

She smiled insipidly and said "Are you the one who is going to make a woman of me?" As he began to carry her to the crudely-built table in the center of the room.

Rather startled the orc said. "You sound like you're looking forward to it, then?" He regarded her with those red eyes. "Your human friend or that dead elf boy out there not fill you up good?"

"Indeed, I am." She said, smiling innocently and happily.

Gorepole shrugged. "Good, because that's what's about to happen to you." He tore her top off with one hand, lifting her off the table until he pushed down with his other hand, it tore asunder, revealing her small, perfectly-shaped breasts. Gorepole grunted in pleasure at their sight. He slid his hand over the smooth skin, then leaned forward and suckled one, drawing blood with his sharp teeth. "Your blood tastes good, I'm going to drink a lot of it before you die." He said, and then sucked the other breast into his mouth, piercing it with his fangs as well. He then stepped back, standing upright again.

Hyandai's body gasped then said. "You are hurting me, be gentler, please."

The big orc laughed. "I'll be gentler, all right." He reached down and ripped her skirt off like he had her halter. The loincloth came with it, revealing her private places. He looked down at her hairless womanhood. "Damn, you elves are smooth down there." He said, running his fingers over her pubic mound and spreading her labia with one. Then he forced one of the thick and clawed fingers into her. 

Hyandai's body screamed, and then yelled. "Not so rough!" The orc pulled the finger from her tiny slit, and licked the blood and juices off of it. "You're an unopened bitch, then, eh? Not for long, says I." He mused.

Grabbing some rope he slit her bonds and tied her down to the four corners of the table. Her arms were bent painfully over her head and pulled to the legs at the two corners over her head. Her knees were bent where they overhung the smallish table and her ankles tied securely halfway down the table's legs. He then threw her clothes into the fire burning in the far corner. "You won't be needing clothes ever again." He said, chuckling. "Make, me happy, little elf cunt, and I'll let you live another day. Piss me off, and I'll cut out your little sweet tongue, and eat it right here, then gut you while I ram my cock up your little hole." He said, pulling a knife from his boot.

Hyandai's face looked confused then said. "I will try to pleasure you." She still looked expectant, but most of the pleased expression was gone.

The two orcs only had eyes for Hyandai right now, not that he blamed them terribly. 

'I will take that as a compliment, such as it is.' She said in his head. She sounded sad, but resigned, and was just biding the time while Harlen got his wrists free.

He had managed to grab his pack and was digging through it behind his back.

The big orc clambered onto the table, and its timbers creaked under his bulk. He unfastened his belt and dropped his codpiece. His organ was enormous. It was as thick and long as Hyandai's upper arm, and covered in large bumps. These formed a ridge along the upper surface. Gorepole stepped up placing each foot on either side of her narrow waist. He looked down at the pretty elf maiden, and she looked up, her golden eyes locked on the creature's huge rod, and looked fearful. He squatted down and rested his rod on her chest, between her flawless, but wounded breasts, the bulbous head was only an inch or so from her small mouth. "Wet it with your mouth, and maybe it won't hurt so much when I stick it in your little cockslit. Suck me off good, and maybe I will try to go easy on your little hole down there." He said, leering down at the pretty face. 

She grimaced at the general smell and the thin, watery gray stuff oozing from the tip. Hyandai lifted her head and opened her mouth wide. She took the head into her, stretching her lips around the massive girth. Her cheeks caved in and began sucking on it. His vile liquid was filling her mouth, and she had to swallow it. It tasted rancid, like old milk mixed with stale water. She tried to pull back, and found that Gorepole had put a hand behind her head. He thrust himself deeper into her instead. She gagged on the thick pole, but couldn't pull back and started to choke. Inch after inch went into her mouth until she gave out a startled and muffled squeal. Then her cheeks puffed out, followed by motions of her neck swallowing something. Thick gray globs of orcish semen flowed out both her slender nostrils, then around her mouth when the pressure was too great to keep it in. Tears were rolling down her smooth cheeks. 

Finally, he pulled the organ free of her mouth, and a small flood of the stuff oozed out. She gasped for air, coughing, his vile come filling her nose and most of her mouth.

Gorepole laughed at her, and dipped a clawed finger into the orc-spend. He shoved the digit into her mouth and wiped it on her tongue. "You eat my juice good, bitch." He said, nodding. "You made me go off quick, you're a good cock sucker." He then moved down a step and squatted again. "Now I can fuck you longer in your little cunthole." He said, placed the oozing head of his organ at the entrance to her vagina. He reached up and grabbed her shoulders with his claw-like hands. He looked down at her tiny slit and his huge cock poised to open it. "This is going to hurt some, I hope." He said, patting her shoulder. He grunted as he buried all eleven inches of cock into her. There was no preamble, there was no slipping. One moment it was outside of her, the head opening the tender folds of her outer labia, the next he was grinding his pelvis against hers. 

Hyandai screamed and began to thrash and pull against the stout rope that held her. The Hyandai in Harlen's head screamed too. 'Spirits be damned, he is killing me!' 

Harlen found what he had been seeking, his small skinning knife. He got it out of it's small protective leather sheath. Gorepole rammed himself into her repeatedly, the girl stopped screaming, and simply made small grunting sounds, like he was pushing the air from her with each thrust. Movement could be seen under her taut belly, his ridged cock moving deep into her. Her limbs had gone slack and her face totally vacant. Gray semen spilled from her slack jaw and was dripping through the slats of the table and onto the floor. Her body gave an involuntary twitch and it arched its back, and she screamed again. He moved his clawed hands down to her breasts, and sank his talons into her pliant flesh, blood started flowing down her chest and off of her in small rivulets. Harlen's knife was slowly cutting through the thick cloth tying his wrists. His range of motion was extremely limited, and he did not have much strength to cut with as he was holding the knife at a very unfavorable angle.

The orc tossed back his head and howled like a wolf, growling at the ceiling, and showering Hyandai in a downpour of spit and bile. 

The cloth binding his wrists finally separated, and his hands were free. Harlen inched his hand toward Hyandai's bow, and the arrows scattered on the floor near it. 

As the orc stood up, pulling its limp and bloody pole from Hyandai's tiny body with a slurping sound that disgusted Harlen. Gorepole looked toward Snatbug. "That elf pussy is good stuff, grabbed my fuckstick like a silk fist." He said, swinging his flaccid organ in the air. 

"Nar, you freak." Said Snatbug. "You'd make a horse feel like a tight new cunt." Then he laughed. He stopped laughing when he saw Harlan stand behind Gorepole, with the elven bow in his hands.

Hyandai wrested control of his hands from him, saying in his mind, 'This one is mine, it is my right.' Harlan let his will fall from his hands. The bow hummed in his hand as he muttered something in elven under his breath. The arrow began to glow, silver shimmers pulsing down its shaft. Snatbag said "Boss, the man is awake!"

The big orc started to turn, chuckling. "Nar, he can't be stan..." The arrow caught the orc in the skull, just below his tiny, malformed ear, his head snapped to the side with a sickening crack, and the orc was flipped from the table and spun to the floor. He was dead before he hit the rough stone.

The smaller creature, his eyes growing round with fear, ran for the cave mouth. His wretched legs only carried him two steps before Hyandai, nimbly using Harlen's fingers, had reloaded the bow and was firing again. Snatbug was hit right in the middle of his scrawny back, the arrow hit so hard, that it slammed him into the stone wall. The arrow must have gone clean through him, as he did not fall, but hung there, like a grisly wall-hanging. His breath squeaked out as if from a bellows with a large rent in the cloth folds. 

Harlen stepped forward to the table, and Hyandai was looking up at him with beautiful, golden, but ultimately blank eyes. "He hurt me." She said, the tears on her face mixing with the vile and malodorous semen of the orc. Her breath reeked of the same horrid stench. "It was supposed to be fun." Her expression was one of petulant betrayal. "I am hurting too much for you now, I am sorry." Harlen looked down and saw her womanhood, still gaping open from the rough use it had just received. Thick globs of orc spend plopped onto the table as it slid out of her along with quite a bit of blood. The table between her legs was likewise coated with the foul stuff, and it drained between the slats, dripping onto the floor. Harlen had tears on his cheeks for even the fragment of Hyandai that had just been harmed so privately and totally.

"I know. Perhaps when you are better, then." He said, quietly, patting her shoulder. Harlen cut the ropes on her ankles and wrists, and helped her to sit up. As she did, a huge mass of the orc's semen slid out of her, with an audible slurping sound, and Hyandai groaned as she watched it. "That stuff tastes bad." She said, running her fingers through the foul spend. 

He took his blanket out of his pack and draped it about her shoulders. "Here, to warm you."

"You are kinder than the orcs." She said. "You can have me when I am well. I liked you when we first met, and you don't stink." She looked down at the orc spend and blood on the table. "I am bleeding from my opening.'" She said. "More than during my time.'" She looked hurt. "I think that bad orc hurt me inside when he was deflowering me."

Harlen's heart tightened at those words, spoken so plainly and innocently. "I will help you get better." He said to her, stroking her hair, ignoring the gray semen that lay in her tresses in clumps and blobs.

Suddenly, a bolt of pain lanced through his skull, nearly causing him to fall. 'Your mind is beginning to fail, it will not hold us both within much longer.' Hyandai said in his head. 'I must return to my own mind now, loathe as I am to do so.' 

Harlen looked down, and there was fresh blood dripping from his nose. Another lance of pain shot through him. 'You must make eye contact with her.' She said, urgently.

Harlen grabbed Hyandai's head and forced her to look at him. "Look at me, darling Hyandai." He said. She did, and Harlen felt a huge part of himself falling into those empty, golden eyes, trying to fill them. For a brief moment, he saw himself, stained with blood from his mouth and nose. He was seeing through her eyes! Then his view snapped back to his own eyes. 

Hyandai closed her lids for a moment, and there was one final great spasm of pain through his skull. Blood spewed from his nose making him cough, then the pain left. He felt a bit unsteady and sat on the table. Hyandai's eyes opened again, and she screamed. It was the banshee wail of one who wants to die. Harlen fought through the descending haze and reached to her. When her eyes focused on him, she clung to him, cutting his arms slightly with her fingernails as she clutched her way up him to curl up on his lap and between his arms. Her face was twisted with torment as she wailed into his chest, and her body heaved great sobs as the tears flowed from her eyes.

He continued stroking her hair, and murmuring to her that things would be okay now, that they were safe now. Her condition belied the very concept of safe, and her mind was anything but okay. Her mind spun with the images and sensations that the small portion of her had absorbed. She was being spared the worst of it but it still shattered her. Her insides were ravaged, and her body abused. Her stomach churned with the seed of the orc, spewed down her throat in great ribbons and filling her womb in a massive explosion. Her mind rebelled against all this, it could not happen in a decent world, she told herself.

Harlen started singing as he began to rock her in his arms. His voice was not precisely on key, and the rhythm was a bit off, but she recognized the song. 

Avaenelle, cormin sakkatuva perya. - Avaenelle, eleeramin eleuva ilme'a. - Avaenelle, gorgaramin keluva ilyamenie. - Avaenelle, niireamin quantuva dome.

He rocked her in time with his singing of the classic song. It was an old love song, and she had enjoyed hearing it as a child. Her sobs lessened as she listened to him singing it, realizing that he was no elf, and he was singing an elven song, and singing it reasonably well.

She sniffed again and asked. "Where did you learn that song, Harlen?" Her eyes were large with wonder, if reddened by tears.

He finished out the verse and said. "My grand mother used to sing it to me as a child when I would get hurt." He smiled sweetly. "I heard it a lot, as I was a extraordinarily clumsy child." He said.

She could not but giggle at that, and graced him with a small, but heartfelt smile. "Please sing it for me still." She said, laying her head on his chest as he held her, and stroked her, and sang to her. After a few more verses he stopped and asked. "What does it mean in my language?" He said. "My grand mother never knew, she had heard an elven minstrel sing it in her youth and memorized it without knowing the meaning.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 02



Hyandai looked at him a moment, then sat up a little. She tilted her head back slightly and started to sing the words. 

Without you, my heart would tear asunder - Without you, my eyes would see no light - Without you, my fears would always linger - Without you, my tears would fill the night

As she sang, her voice filled the chamber as if it were made to carry her notes. Her voice was perfect in pitch and timber, it belied the worn and used look she wore, and the horrid smell coming off of her from the orc's juices. The tears that fell from her eyes were fewer now, and seemed purer. She sang the verse again, then stopped. "It is actually a song of your people, from many, many years ago." She said. "We elves liked it and translated it, but it belongs in your tongue."

Harlen shrugged. "My people have forgotten it, so I would say it is yours now." He looked at her intently. "Think you that you can you walk, m'lady?"

She nodded. "I can walk for a little ways, but I am hurt deeply, Harlen." He gathered up their weapons, but instead of his hatchet, he picked up a finely wrought broadsword, of the sort used by soldiers, and thrown negligently in a corner of the cave. Hyandai waited, standing by the table, and clutching the blanket around her. Her face was haunted looking and sad.

"I know of another cave, near to here, that no orc has ever found." He said, picking up his items that had spilled from his pack while he had searched it. "We should not tarry longer here, others may come." 

Hyandai nodded, and took possession of her bow and quiver by extending one hand out of the cocoon of a blanket she wore. They crept from the cave and stole down the hills toward the woods a ways, then he started north. Her stomach cramped painfully, and blood was coating her thighs. "It needs be close, Harlen, I cannot go much farther." She said, taking his offered arm to support her.

He nodded and pointed to their right. "It is near. Come, Rapier, we will get to safety soon." They went up what looked like a blind ravine and climbed some shallow skree. She almost could not make it, but finally they slipped into a narrow cleft between two stones. It went about five feet, narrow and confining, with barely enough room to move, then it turned sharply and disgorged them into a small cave. Harlen slipped the light stone out of his pocket and held it up. The cave was only perhaps ten paces deep and five wide. "Everything we need, Hyandai. For a while at least." Unlike the filthy cave of the orcs, this cave was meticulously clean. The end of the chamber had a tiny rivulet running through it, it disgorged into a little pond, only about three feet across, then ran off into the stone wall. "I carved out the pond, for bathing." He said.

"You are certain it is safe?" Hyandai asked, leaning back against the rough wall, and sliding down it a bit.

"Very." Harlen said. "The other man who knew of it was a huntsman friend of mine, and he is dead."

She said. "I'm sorry for your loss." And slipped farther down the wall.

Harlen still was speaking over his shoulder. "Don't be, It was my hand that ended his life." He turned at last and gasped when he saw her condition. He rushed to her side. "Hyandai." He said.

Her hands closed on his arm. "You said bath?" She muttered. "Put me in it a while." He picked her up gently and carried her to the bath. The rancid smell of the orc spend in her hair made him noxious. It was now turning black as it dried in her hair, and on her smooth cheeks. He sat her on the edge of the pool and took the blanket from her shoulders. She slipped into the water, settling into the little pool up to her neck. "Please, speak to me, keep me company. I feel very faint." She said. Looking at him with her golden eyes very tired and world worn.

He sat beside the pool and thought a moment. "I don't know quite what to talk about." Harlen admitted. He held out a small piece of lye soap to her.

She sniffed it dubiously. "Yeek. It will burn my flesh off my bones." She said. Then added. "I suppose this situation calls for nothing less, though." She started washing herself with the soap, wincing as she went over a bruise or open sore. She seemed less worn already, the water was supporting her weight, and she could relax more.

"How did you jump into my mind?" Harlen asked her, trying to think of something to say.

She rinsed one of her arms off, and looked at him, her eyes were looking more animated. "I wanted to be in your head more than my own right then." She smiled. "It is something that elves can do, at least some among us can do it."

Harlen looked at her a moment. "You could read my mind?" He asked, slightly alarmed.

She giggled at that, and the music in her laugh was beginning to return. "No, Harlen, only what you actively thought at a given moment." She answered. "And, I would say, you were a perfect gentleman."

He looked down. "I was only worried for you." His eyes were brimming with tears. "You didn't deserve that." He looked down into the water, and saw his own face. "Gads! I'm a terrible fright." He exclaimed, rubbing his hand on the clotted and dried blood on his face and neck.

Hyandai nodded to him. "We both are, I think, Harlen." She smiled sweetly. "Were there room in this bath, I would ask you in." She said, then murmured. "And were I foresighted, I would have done the same this morning."

Harlen blinked. "What do you mean?" He asked.

"Nothing, sorry." She said. "Just a stray thought about what could have been." She was looking much better now. She asked Harlen. "May I ask you for help with my hair?" She said, handing him the block of lye soap. She turned her back to him and leaned back into the water, half her hair just above the surface, the other half submerged. He splashed water onto it and then rubbed the soap into the locks, he scrubbed her head, being careful not to get the caustic lye near her eyes. Then he used a small cup to ladle water into her hair until he had all the soap out. Her hair was incredibly soft and fine, and he longed to keep touching it. However, she was obviously uncomfortable in this pose and he finished as quickly as he could. The water was cloudy with the lye and bits of soap, but the constant inflow of fresh water was slowly clearing it. After about fifteen minutes she said. "I believe I am as clean as I can get right now, Harlen." She looked up to him. "Will you help me out now, please?" She said, holding up her hands to him and standing. She was visible from the waist up, her perfect breasts marred by small wounds that still bled a little. A long claw-mark drew a red welt down her stomach. He closed his eyes and lifted her out, turned to the right and let her down. She gasped at his strength to lift her free like that. "You are very strong, Harlen." She said. She looked about. "Have you something clean I can wear, or at least not orc-stained?" She asked.

He turned from her and opened his eyes. He then went over to a small chest and opened it. Out of it he produced a long shirt. "The best I have." He said, holding it over his shoulder. He heard her wet footsteps behind him, and felt the shirt taken from his fingers. 

"Have you any rags or small pieces of cloth?" She said very timidly. "I need something to keep me from bleeding."

He pulled out another blanket, and used his little skinning knife to cut a small square from it. He handed this back to her also. She finally said. "You can turn around now, Harlen, I am decent." He turned.

She was standing in his massively oversized shirt. His heart swelled at the image it presented to him, of some possible domestic scene. The tunic hanged almost to her shapely knees. He took a length of rope and cut it and said "A belt." She took it and knotted it about her slim waist.

She finally looked about the chamber. "Very homey." She said. The room had a small cot, some shelves, covered with small items, and two chests. There was also a small breadbox on the shelf, and a large wooden frame against the wall. Several clay pots lay just inside the entrance. And, of course, the rivulet of spring water and the pool.

Harlen nodded. "More like homely." He chuckled. "But its somewhat clean and reasonably safe, anyway." He looked about. "Please lie down, Hyandai. I know you are careworn." He said, pointing to the bed. He left off that he could go bath out of sight if she did, the pool was somewhat in an alcove from where the bed lay.

She laid down. "I probably should try to rest." He said, and laid on the blanket. It smelled of Harlen, and that was agreeable enough to her. She lifted the covers from under herself and nestled into them. "I do not recall any finer bed, Harlen." She said.

Harlen smiled at her and went over to the pool. He hugged the inner wall, out of sight and stripped off his clothes. Then he climbed down into the water. He was remarkably sore. He supposed that Hyandai had not been able to heal every minor hurt he had suffered in the pummeling from the huge orc. The caked blood was washed from his face and neck. Then he washed out the rawhide jerkin he had worn. "Harlen, do you have any food here?" She asked from around the corner. "Not that I can eat right now, but for later?"

"Yes." He said. "I've some provisions in the breadbox." He washed his hair in a series of dunks and then went ahead and scrubbed his body. Finally he got out and put his trousers back on, they stuck to his body, as he had not dried off. He clasped the belt and walked to the second chest, where he had gotten the shirt and blanket. He opened it and retrieved another shirt, this one a blue shirt of rough weave. 

She watched him move about, and enjoyed seeing him shirtless, with his corded muscles and well-formed shoulders. When he turned his back to her and looked in the chest. She gasped. His back was a web of scars. Harlen had been flogged in his past. The long scars were red and angry-looking. They made his back look as if it were somehow aflame. He put the shirt on and turned back around. "I am so sorry, Hyandai," He said finally, "that I couldn't get myself unbound sooner."

Hyandai smiled at him. "I know it, remember, I was in your head, also." She snuggled into the blankets more. "I am happy enough to be alive right now." She said quietly, looking at the natural stones of the ceiling.

Harlen nodded. "Yes, that is better than I would have thought as that brute put me down." He sat on the floor, and took the blanket from his pack and washed it, cleaning out the orc spend and blood that had gotten onto it. Hyandai could see him as he washed, in profile. His face wore the look of disgust.

She wondered briefly if he felt the same way about her now, used and orc-spent.

Harlen finished with that task and took the blanket and shirt and hung them on hooks set into the rough wall.

When he turned, he saw tears falling from her beautiful eyes and down her flawless cheeks. "Hyandai?" He said coming over to her.

"No, Harlen." She said. "Let me be, for a moment only." She said, curling onto her side and facing toward the wall. "I need to think." She murmured.

He stepped back as if stung. "I understand." He said, though he did not really. He went over to one of the chests and sat upon it. He opened the companion chest and took out a piece of doeskin. He unfolded his rolled up kit and took out needle and thread. Using only a small knife and that thread and needle, he started to sew.

She wept for longer than a moment, she wept for a greater part of two hours. Harlen patiently sewed on the leather, occasionally staring at Hyandei's back for a few moments then sewing some more. He took out more thread at need, and more of the supple leather. Harlen noticed the weeping had ceased and that she seemed to be asleep, he heard nothing from her, and her shoulder rose and fell rhythmically. He continued to sew well into the night outside. Simply watching over her and minding his handiwork.

At what he thought to be about midnight, she stirred. "Harlen?" She asked as she rolled over to face him.

"I am here, m'lady." He said, putting down his project and standing.

She smiled at him. "I hate to ask it of you, but I need another clean cloth." She said. He went and cut one from the blanket he had sliced before. He stopped, and cut another. The second one he took to the water and soaked it, then wrung it out. He handed both to Hyandai, then turned about, and walked to the far side of the cave. A few moments later she said. "Thank you, I am presentable again." She held out a folded rag that was very soaked with blood, but not quite through and through. He took it and went to the pool. He rinsed it clean then set it aside to dry. She was really enthralled with his thoroughness. "Harlen, you are one of the most detail minding men I have ever met." She said.

Harlen looked over at her. "What do you mean?" He asked. He stood and walked to the cot, and slid one of the chests beside it. He sat upon the chest and faced her.

"You finish all your projects before you move on. It is very nice to watch, you always do what needs doing next." She flashed her golden orbs at him.

Harlen shrugged. "My grand mother again, I think." He explained. "She always made me to finish anything I started, regardless of how badly I wanted to stop." The huntsman chuckled. "I suppose it helped me to choose my projects more wisely."

She giggled at that, her eyes flickering with life again. Harlen decided to try to make her laugh as often as he could, as it was lightening to his heart to hear her laughing.

"Are you hungry?" He asked.

Hyandai clutched her stomach. "A little." She said. "But I do not think I can keep food down until my stomach has gotten rid of the bile it has within." Her mind flashed to the huge orc filling her gullet and she almost retched again. "A while longer, I think."

Harlen nodded without comment.

Hyandai sat up part way, lifting herself up and propping her back against the wall. "Do you not need sleep, Harlen?" She asked. "It must be late."

"I was thinking of lying down, yes." He said. 

She scooted over on the cot. "Then lie, Harlen." She said, patting the bed beside her. "Do not worry, I have been rendered incapable of ravishing you." She grinned sourly.

He wore the look of someone about to try to talk his way out of something. "No, Harlen, you will take this spot, please." She said. "After what I have been through today. I seek your comfort." Her eyes grew very imploring. "Do not make me beg." Her voice was very quiet now. "For I will."

Harlen shook his head. "No, m'lady, do not. I will comfort you, if that is what you would have me do." He smiled and sat beside her. "I don't consider this to be a particularly odious task, you know." He laid down, and she slid back into the covers. She turned to her side to face him, and he to face her. "I forgot the stone." He said. He slipped from beneath the covers and went to the light stone. Sliding it back into it's pouch, he returned to the bed.

As he laid down, Hyandai snuggled up to him. He slipped an arm under her head and she caressed it with one hand. Her other hand lay on his stomach. He held her that way for many minutes before he heard her breathing turn even and shallow. He then let himself drift off to sleep.

He awoke slowly, with Hyandai once again in his arms and pressed to her back. She awoke with him as she felt him move. "Good morrow." She said, pushing back into him a bit. "Thank your for your arms in the dark."

Harlan said. "Thank you for your company." He said, liking the feel of her against him. The cinnamon odor was gone from her. He was a little saddened by this. "I hope you find more of that perfume." He said. "It was wonderful."

She turned, though he could not see it. "Perfume?" She asked. "I wore no scents, I have not for days." She said. "It is not our way to go into the wilds scented to attract animals."

Harlen sat silent for a moment. "Then that sweet scent was yours?" He said, smiling.

He felt her nod in the dark. "Yes. I suppose it was, if you smelled one." She said, almost giggling.

"Well, then, I am blessed." He said and reached his free arm for the light stone.

Her small hand caught his arm. "No, a while longer, please." She said, and pulled his arm back over her. He held her for a bit, and felt her snuggle into him again. He pressed forward slightly and she held her position. They were very close now, and He could smell the lye in her hair faintly. Her hand petted his arm, tickling the hairs. "Elven men have no hair on their arms." She said. "Or else but their heads." She added, almost setting herself to giggling again.

"No?" Harlen asked.

She did giggle now. "Not a single strand." She said. "Nor do we women, of course." He lifted his arm and stroked her arm, and there was not touch of hairs, fine or otherwise. She leaned back, placing her mouth to his ear and whispered. "Anywhere."

His eyes opened widely at that word. "Um. Interesting." He said, with a little quaver in his voice. She smiled to herself as he reacted to her words, and felt his manhood stir. It was just pressed to her rear, but it felt good, nonetheless, to know she could arouse him so with just a few words. "I thought you just, well, shaved, as a man does his beard."

She shook her head. "No, I have never had any." She said. "I hear it is different with humans, many of you are quite furry, from what I have been told."

"Some more than others, but yes." He agreed. 

He was fully aroused now and she enjoyed the feeling of his erection against her rump. She may have been violated just yesterday, she thought, but that does not make him or his presence feel unwelcome. She dearly wished that she had given in to her impulses that first morning, and let him take her. At least the orc would not have been the first into her body, then.

The muscular arm under her head felt good, also, and she turned a little and kissed it gently. It twitched with the contact. Harlen felt the kiss as a hot spark running up his arm and shooting to his brain, then down to his loins. He hoped she did not feel his manhood twitch in sympathy.

She gave a tiny smile in the dark as she quite certainly did feel it. Finally, though he said "I must rise." Hyandai almost choked trying to hold back the giggles that came to her.

"I understand, Harlen." She said, lifting her head to let him slip his arm out. "You will understand if I do not get up just yet." The hunter took his light stone from the pouch and the chamber filled with light.

Harlen sat up and nodded. "I do, and was going to suggest you rest today, m'lady." He said. Actually relieved to have his organ away from her rear. He had almost spent himself from her little movements alone and her rather provocative words. She turned over and watched him stretching. His organ stood out from his body as he leaned back and she heard his back give out a few small snaps. She admired him overall, and laid down before his stretch ended. He walked over to the breadbox and extracted a small loaf of bread. "Are you hungry now?" He asked.

"Please, yes." She said, suddenly realizing she was famished. Harlen came back over, his erection now gone and handed her the small loaf. "I have butter and cheese, also."

She took the little loaf in her hands. "Cheese would be nice." She answered. As he brought her the cloth-wrapped small wheel of cheese she giggled. "My first breaking of fast abed." She said, using her fingers to spread the softish cheese onto the bread.

"Mind the crumbs, then." Harlen said smiling. She devoured the bread in a most unelvish fashion, he thought, but then again, she was probably very hungry. He fetched another loaf, and spread his own with cheese as well. Holding it in his mouth he wrapped the cheese wheel, and took it back to the little breadbox. The food there would not last two people for long, but hopefully, it would suffice long enough. Hyandai was not fit to travel yet, and probably would need another day before being able to walk the distance to Morrovale.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 02



He ate his bread slowly, watching her fidget with her hands. "My hands are idle, Harlen." She said. "Have you things here with which I may keep them busy?"

"I may." He said. He went to the second chest, the one he had not opened yet. From within he extracted a very small wooden frame. "I usually use this for tanning small hides." He said. He handed her a square of the blanket he had been cutting up. Then his little leather roll. You will find thread and such within." He looked at her. "Do you know needlepoint?" He asked.

She nodded. "As a girl I did." She looked at the items. "Thank you." She began to fiddle with the items and managed to stitch the cloth tight onto the little frame, then began to use different bits of thread and lay out a pattern.

Harlen went over to the other chest and picked up where he had left off on the sewing. He would occasionally pilfer some thread from her and then return. More doeskin went into the project and even some cloth salvaged from the already dwindling blanket. She tried to see what he was making, but could not, due to the angle, and the fact that he kept it folded except where he was currently stitching. Somehow, she felt asking would be inappropriate. The day passed with much silence. The two of them simply performing their individual crafts. At the evening meal time, he stood, and said. "Done."

She blinked from her project. "Done?" She said. "And what have you done, Harlen?" She smiled, finally sensing she could ask about his little project.

He took up his bundle of soft doeskin and walked to the bed. She set her needlepoint aside and he sat beside her. He unfolded a piece and laid it over her chest. It was an almost exact copy of the half-top she had been wearing, made mostly of doeskin, with some lining of cloth. He laid the other piece over her hips and, again, it copied her old clothing, almost precisely. She looked with astonishment at it. "That's amazing, Harlen." She said. Picking up the skirt. "So soft." She stroked the doeskin. "I believe its softer than my old garments." Hyandai started to sit up.

Harlen placed a hand upon her chest, gently. "Not yet, tomorrow." He said. "Give yourself a day to mend." She nodded as a cramp clutched her pelvis, and laid back down. He took up the clothes and folded them onto the already crowded shelves. He walked over to her doeskin boots that lay by the little pool. They were reasonably clean, and he sat them beside the folded clothes on the shelf.

Next, he began to clear that shelf of his detritus, storing it on other shelves, or putting it in one or the other of the chests. He placed the now dry and folded blanket onto the shelf, along with half a dozen of the small squares of cloth she had been using for her injury. She realized, this was her shelf now. The thought pleased her inordinately, and she smiled at him as he went about his project. She knew now what that odd feeling had been in her chest this last day or so. It was her heart turning. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

Turning from his task, Harlen saw that tear. "You are pained?" He asked, his face flush with concern.

She smiled widely. "No." She said, then held her arms up to him. He leaned down and she embraced him with all her might. "I am very well now." She said into his neck.

The look of confusion on Harlen's face would have made her laugh had she seen it, but he soon started smiling as well, and he enjoyed the embrace of this lovely woman. "I am glad you're feeling better." He said, and put his arms around her, lifting her a little from the bed. She felt so small in his arms, yet she was strong inside, he thought. He liked the feel of her hair on his cheek, and when he sighed then inhaled. He thought that he smelled a faint scent of cinnamon.

After a long moment, he pulled away and went to his little larder. From it he brought out another two loaves of bread and a jar of butter and some dried apples. He brought them to her and they ate on the blanket, giggling and laughing every time a crumb dropped. 

On into the night they sat, and spoke of things, mostly of life in their respective home villages. He marveled at her tales of the wonders of an elven community, and she wondered at the tales of the marvels of human lands. From what she heard, in the fifty or so years that the elves of Windir stopped visiting the humans of the Western Realms, they had done much, and been busy. They had made, from his tales, amazing items of non-magical nature that were a wonder to behold. She hoped to perhaps see some of these things in her days. For his part, his eyes sparkled at the tales of magical doing and things from her home. They spoke long into the night, making each other laugh, gasp, and stare, wide-eyed.

After what surely was middle night, Harlen rose from the bed, and they spent a few moments getting the crumbs out of it. He then stood up and went to the clothing chest, as she called it. He took of his shirt and folded it, and she watched him. She ran her golden eyes over his muscled body and arms, then he turned again and walked to the bed. "You don't mind me shirtless, do you?" He asked.

She stammered a moment. "Need you see my face and still ask that?" She said, smiling up at him. "Your chest and arms are quite lovely to behold, Harlen." She said.

He blushed charmingly at the compliment. "I thank you then. I hate wearing shirts to bed." He said. Hyandai giggled at him, and he looked at her quizzically.

"Sorry, just, well, it is more normal for us elves to sleep unclad." She said, now blushing herself.

His eyes widened at that. Then he got a mischievous grin upon his face. "Do not let ME come between you and your time-honored traditions." He said self-righteously. Then smiling brightly at her laughter. "I'm afraid, however, that I would not sleep well, at all."

"If I were not infirm, Harlen, I might just do that." She said, scooting over to make room for him. "Now into the bed, my pillow."

He laid beside her, and he turned to face her. She lifted her head and he slid is arm beneath it. She laid back down and pressed her hand to his chest near that shoulder. She liked the warm feeling of his skin and the surprising softness of it. Her other hand rested under his head, and he nuzzled it, pricking her with the stubble of his cheek. "You need to shave, my pillow, you are becoming prickly." She said, rubbing his cheek.

He kissed her palm then said. "I will upon the morn, m'lady. I cannot abide prickly pillows myself."

She let the tingle from his kiss die down before saying. "Well, I doubt you will come across much prickly on me." She said, smiling.

Harlen smiled widely and said. "Of that I feel pretty safe." He reached up and picked up the glowing stone, she held the little bag for him and he dropped it in. She then cinched the bag up and place it on her shelf. Both her hands went back to their places on him and his free hand rested on her hip. He squeezed gently on her there, and she liked that, almost too much as she nearly let out a moan. Just as he was nearly dozing, and she could hear his breath become regular and deep, she leaned forward a bit and kissed him.

She grinned in the dark as his eyes popped open. He could not see her, but she, being elven born, could see him perfectly in the dark. He looked into the darkness for a moment, imagining that he could still see her golden eyes even in the inky blackness of the cave, but knew he could not. "You thief." He said quietly, smiling.

She kissed his arm. "Thief, you say?" She whispered.

He nodded into the darkness, and said. "Yes, you stole a kiss."

She giggled gently and quietly and then was silent. They both fell asleep soon after, and dreamed.



The Solitary Arrow Ch. 03



The next morning found Hyandai awake before Harlen again. She laid there a moment, enjoying herself being held. She smiled to herself, thinking that she would not mind waking this way many, many more times. His strong arms were wrapped around her from beneath and above, and she was pulled tight to him. She knew that they had not been thus all night, but were certainly in this very position for much of it. Her hand stroked the forearm nearest her face, and she watched the tiny hairs bounce back after her fingers' passage.

Harlen moved slightly with the touch and was suddenly cupping her left breast. Her golden eyes grew large at the jolt this delivered to her body. He simply held it and did not squeeze, yet it was causing her breath to come up short. Soon, however, she had become used to the touch and rather enjoyed the feeling of his strong fingers. The nipple on that breast was stiffening under the contact, and the nipple of it's partner was stiffening in sympathy. She moved slightly to cause some movement of her breast under that hand, and the hand reacted by grasping gently, this actually did cause her to moan very softly, her eyes squeezed shut. The buttons on the front of the shirt were large and widely spaced. In a fit of uncharacteristic naughtiness, she unbuttoned the top one and pushed the shirt down from under the hand. The cloth slowly slid between her breast and his rough hand. After a moment she had the soft flesh of her chest completely uncovered and her nipple was pressed into his worn palm. Again she moved it slightly, and he responded again by squeezing. She had to gulp to prevent herself from moaning loudly at the feelings the pressure excited in her.

Deciding that the game had gone on long enough, she gently pulled the cloth back up, and covered her breast again. She longed for when she could let him touch them openly, or when he would want to. She was far from certain that he fully wanted her, his reactions to her were somewhat confusing from time to time, but she did have the general idea that he was favorable. She was still afraid to try, though, his rejection would shatter her, especially now.

She stroked his arm a bit more and pressed gently back into him. He pulled on her, forcing her tighter against him and she actually had to put effort into breathing for a few moments before his arms relaxed a little.

Perhaps half an hour passed of her just lying there, and being held. Then she heard Harlen's breathing change pattern as he regained consciousness. As he made the transition, she gently moved his hand from her breast, not wanting him to be alarmed that he might have taken 'privileges' again. Then he was awake. "Good morrow." He said into her ear, very gently, in a whisper.

She squirmed a bit pushing into him. "And to you, pillow." Hyandai said.

Harlen chuckled at that, and loosened his arms. He brought the upper arm back and scratched his neck, yawning. "That was a wonderful sleep." He said. "I've not slept that well for many long days." She felt him fumbling with the leather pouch and suddenly light filled the small cave. She moved away from him a little and rolled over to face him. "You're so beautiful in the morning, even, Hyandai." He said, giving her a sleepy smile. "I actually cannot believe my fortune to see that face as my first sight of a morning."

Hyandai blushed at this very touching compliment. She had heard elven lords deliver clumsier and cruder lines. "Thank you, my pillow." She said, nodding gently, and closing her eyes for a moment. When she reopened them she locked them onto his. "Waking with your arms about me is my fortune. I wish I could express how secure and warm it makes me feel." The elven way is to give a compliment for one given to you, and she liked the rule.

Rolling out of the bed, Harlen stood and turned again. "Bread and cheese?" He asked.

She shook her head, sitting up. "No. I want my new clothes to break fast, after I bathe."

"You wish to bathe this morn?" Said Harlen. "Then I will go outside to check a trap or two of mine, perhaps we will eat meat today."

She smiled at his exuberance. Then nodded. "Very well, Quesset." She said. "It means pillow. And be very careful." She added when he tilted his head and raised one eyebrow. Harlen put on a shirt and boots and grabbed his bow and sword, and slipped out of the cave.

For the first time in days, Hyandai was alone. She was not at all sure she liked the feeling, and suddenly moved slower and did no longer smile. "Hurry back, Quesset." She murmured to the empty cave. She rolled out of the bed and walked gingerly to the little pool. Sliding his shirt over her head, she sat on the edge, then slipped in. She had stopped bleeding yesterday, and she wanted to make sure any clots were gone now. She bathed for a long while, just soaking and enjoying the feeling of buoyancy. She still longed for the company of the man who had saved her life, twice now.

She finally tired of the bath, and did not scrub her skin, if Harlen liked the cinnamon scent she gave off, she would wear it for him. Besides, the lye soap burned, and she did not want to use it more than she had to. She lifted herself out of the pool and dried with the blanket. Her head turned to look at the folded leather on the shelf. The doeskin clothes. She rose and walked to them. He had said she could wear them today, so she put them on. They fitted almost perfectly, though he had overestimated her breast size a little, it was not enough that pulling the drawstrings between her breasts a little snugger would not repair.

She wished she had a mirror, so that she could appraise herself. She looked over Harlen's goods on the shelves, and saw a rather shiny helmet among the items. She took it down and sat it on the bed, then stepped back to regard her reflection. Distorted as it was, she thought she looked quite presentable. She plaited her hair into two tails to the back of her head and bound them with some rawhide strips she found on another shelf. "Almost presentable" She said to herself. Then heard sounds of movement near the entrance. She snatched up her rapier and looked toward the doorway.

Harlen's head peeked in. "Decent?" He asked with his eyes squeezed shut.

"Yes, Harlen." She said, giggling. "I am clad." She quickly put down the rapier and stood back up, sliding her hands over the front of the skirt, smoothing it.

He opened his eyes and looked toward her. They went wide with surprise, as did his mouth, in a smile. "You are beautiful." He said. Then he stepped in with two rabbits, already gutted and skinned. "And these will be tasty."

She grinned as his non-sequitur, and walked toward him. "Thank you for these." She said, looking down at herself. "They are very finely made, and I am honored to wear them."

He looked her up and down, then did it again. Then he looked into her golden eyes. "You made my white shirt look good, so these were bound to look great."

She smiled at his return compliment, and took the rabbits from him. "I can move about today, I think, so long as I do not do anything strenuous." She explained. "So, I will earn my keep today." She walked toward the small fire-pit near the entrance.

"The fire must be kept small, and use only the dry wood." He said. "Else the smoke will fill the chamber or the smoke will be seen outside."

Hyandai nodded. "I understand." She said, and bent over to stack some of the wood.

Harlen did a rapid turn to face away from the view he had just been blessed with. When she stood, she looked back and realized her error. "Oh, by the spirits. I am sorry, Harlen." She said. "I did not mean to offend."

He chuckled. "Offend isn't the word I would choose, m'lady." He said. "Shock, perhaps, or maybe stun, or even possibly amaze."

She giggled. "I shall fix it at once." She said. "May I borrow your sharp knife?"

He held the requested implement out to her and she cut a cloth from the ever-dwindling blanket. He turned about while she placed it, folding the ends over the front and back of her skirt and the middle running between her legs. "There." She said. "I am now presentable again." She was blushing profusely. "I cannot believe I did that."

Harlen smiled to her. "I can honestly say I can't believe it either." He said. "But now, I'll have fodder for dreams for years."

Her blush deepened to near crimson. "It cannot have been that special, Harlen." She said, avoiding his eyes.

He looked at her, enjoying her minor discomfiture. "While the view may not have been that special in and of itself, the setting it was in made it all the more." He said, wondering if he had said that the way he wanted to.

She grinned. "You flatter me." She said. "But now, I wish to cook." She went to the small pile of wood and got it lit. Checking behind her every so often and only catching Harlen staring at her backside about half the time. She had to admit she enjoyed the attention.

Harlen could not believe what he had just seen, and was still trying to calm down his pounding heart. Hyandai was exquisite beyond any other woman he had ever seen, and to have seen her thus had made him hard enough to have driven nails with his organ. He spent several minutes trying to get his body under control, but kept looking back at her half-exposed rump. She even saw him a couple of times, which made him even more skittish, as she seemed to not mind him looking.

The smell of cooking rabbit meat soon started filling the little cave, and Harlen's mouth started to water a second time. 

She rose from her rather exposing position with a half a rabbit impaled on his small skinning knife. "This portion is done." She announced, then took a healthy bite from its leg.

Harlen took the rabbit half from her and said. "It's missing a bit, just here." He said, pointing at the small missing half-circle.

Hyandai looked at it carefully, and then asked. "You want it back?" She opened her mouth, revealing the masticated meat.

He looked at her with mock horror. "No, you can keep that bit, then." Which caused her to giggle profusely and almost loose the morsel anyway. She returned to the small fire and turned the other half.

"I shall let you take a bit of my thigh." She said, pulling the rabbit from the spit, standing, then turning to see Harlen's face trying, and miserably failing, to be completely blank. She smiled and held up the half rabbit. "My RABBIT'S thigh, you scoundrel."

Harlen burst out with laughter. She let it wash over her. He did not seem the sort to laugh often, so she felt she had achieved something of worth when she caused him to. Finally, he stopped and asked. "Are elven men so crude?" The little crinkles at the corners of his eyes were still there, and his smile was wide.

She shook her head. "No, they tend to be cruder, and many of the boys I knew at home would have said something, rather than just look stunned." She held up her rabbit to let him take a bite, and he took one, a huge one. "Hey!" She exclaimed. "That was a larger portion than I took." She smiled at him watching him try to chew the huge mouthful. She looked at her maimed half-rabbit. "Anyway, I am glad it was not MY thigh."

Harlen's eyes started to water and she feared he might choke. Then he swallowed with great difficulty. He nodded his head and made a ring of his index finger and thumb. "Excellent timing, m'lady." He said. "Almost got me to blow rabbit meat out of my nose."

She forced her face into complete blandness. "Something to strive for, I am sure." She said, and then could not help but smile a little.

They finished their rabbit in quiet, only occasionally saying something to one another, mainly him complimenting her cooking. The rabbit was done without being burnt, but with just the right singing on the surface, he told her.

They extinguished the fire, and sat facing one another. "Well, what now?" Harlen asked.

She looked at him. "You do not have something you need to do?" She asked him. "You seem to always have a project or two."

"I do." He said. "But most of my 'projects' are at home, in Morrovale."

She nodded. "I see. You are wanting to go home." She said, her face growing slightly unhappy.

He looked on with alarm. "I wish it were otherwise, m'lady." He said. "But I only have a little more provision and people in town will be wondering at my absence before long." He looked almost panic-stricken. "I hadn't thought of this. But what are your plans m'lady?"

Hyandai had not thought of it, either. "I do not know." She said, suddenly worried. If she went back to Windir, she would likely never see Harlen again. If she stayed with Harlen, she may never see Windir again. She was suddenly torn between her people and the possibility that she was falling in love. "Harlen, please, sit with me." She said, sitting on the little cot.

Harlen looked worried, but sat. "What is it?" He asked.

"I was sent out from Windir for a reason." She said. "My family sent myself and Eleean to regain a lost heirloom of my clan." Her voice grew quiet. "According to the seer, Salanae. I am the one who must go recover it."

Harlen looked blankly. "Was that why you were with Eleean?" He asked.

She nodded. "My betrothal to Eleean was an arranged thing. He was training to become a blade dancer, and he was to earn the rights to the blade we sought. "But the seer said that only my betrothed would wield it." She shrugged. "I suppose we paid now the price of our folly in trying to force ourselves into a foretelling, rather than letting it happen naturally." She sighed. "Now, I should probably return to Windir, and let my clan know what has happened.

His voice had a slight quaver in it when he said. "Can I come with you?" When she looked, there were tears in his eyes, ready to fall.

Hers fell first. "No." She said. "They would never allow you to enter the wood." Her tears rolled freely now. "The few they allow are people they already know and trust."

Harlen sniffed a little. "Then we will go to my village until you are fully healed, then we will go to the border of your land and, there, say goodbye."

"It will probably happen so, then." She said, standing. "We can travel to your village on the morrow, then." She looked at him. "Unless it is very far."

"Only about ten miles." Harlen said. "It will only take us about four hours to walk there."

She nodded. "Very well."

They spoke little the remainder of that day, Hyandai was saddened at the thought of leaving this man she was just now beginning to know. Harlen was saddened because he felt he was losing the only woman he wanted to know. The evening was spent making ready to leave the cave. She looked around and it felt like home, as homely as it was. She really wished they could stay in the little cave, just the two of them, forever. She knew that would not happen, and eventually, she would have to give in to the needs of her clan.

She crawled into the cot that night and waited for Harlen to join her. He did not. Finally, she sat up. "Harlen? Are you going to sleep?"

He was sitting on one of the chests. "I will sleep alone tonight, on the floor, m'lady." He said.

Her eyes fell, along with her heart. "If you wish it so." And she laid back down.

She heard, very faintly, and would not have, had she been human, his whisper. "If my wishes were granted, you wouldn't be leaving me." She turned toward the wall, and wept silently. A few moments later, He pouched the light stone and the room was cast into darkness. She turned over and watched him. He sat on a blanket on the floor, and took off his boots. Tears were rolling down his face. She saw his sadness, and felt the clutching in her chest told her what he might be feeling. He did not lay down, he simply sat there and cried, for over an hour. Every tear she saw fall past his chin was matched by her own.

Finally, she said. "Harlen, please come to me." Her voice quavered and she hated the sound of it.

"Why?" He asked, and there was some venom in his tone. "So I can love you more before you leave?" His voice was a mix of anger and sadness. "So I can feel your body, and your touch, and your soul, then loose all contact with them?" The hostility in his voice frightened her. "No, thank you, m'lady, but I think I shall spare myself those kind gifts."

Her first reaction was to return the volley he had just delivered unto her. But then she realized that his anger was just. She had known her own course, and he had not. He truly was innocent, and she had toyed with his emotions. She rolled over again, and wept until sleep took her.

In the morning she heard Harlen moving about in the cave. The light stone was out again, and the room was full of harsh shadows. She turned to see him packing pelts and such into a backpack frame. He noticed her wakefulness. "We leave in half an hour." He said, his voice was cold and empty.

She sat up. "I will be ready, Harlen." She said, almost ready to begin crying again. She slipped out of the cot and began picking up the few items that were now 'hers.' It was a paltry assortment of goods, but she clutched them to her chest and looked about, lost.

A small leather sack flopped down on the cot beside her. "You can put your stuff in that." He said, his voice was also becoming uncouth. She wondered when he would begin cursing. She could feel the hostility emanating from him. It was almost solid, like a shield. She looked up at him, her eyes almost leaking tears. When he turned to regard her, the anger and hurt in his eyes terrified her. Were he not a good man, he would hurt me, she thought.

She packed her goods away, then belted on her rapier and slung her quiver. Holding her bow in one hand and her sack in the other. "I am ready." She said.

He picked up the heavy backpack frame. "Good, then we leave now." Said Harlen. He crouched and held the pack before him as he left the cave, grabbing the light stone and waiting for her. "Keep up."

She followed him closely and he exited the narrow entrance. He stooped and slung the pack on his back. Then put the stone in it's pouch. She was just standing. He turned, and without even looking at her, set off north.

He set a rapid pace, but not too fast. She kept up easily, and only had a few small cramps. His eyes watched all about them as they moved, and he stopped them short as a handful of orcs crossed a ravine a few hundred yards away. Soon, they were under the dappled canopy of the forest, and she felt slightly better.

He spoke little, other than to point out possible obstacles or pitfalls. There were clouds gathering overhead, and the possibility of rain became very likely. 

Lightning flashed overhead a few times, then the sky fell on them. Harlen did not stop. The rain fell in heavy sheets, soaking the ground almost instantly, then running over it. Within a quarter hour, they were dragging their feet through mud up to their ankles. "Harlen, we should stop." She said quietly.

She stumbled in the mud, falling onto her hands and knees. Harlen stopped and watched her impassively, rain running down his face. He stood there a long moment, as she gathered herself up and stood again. She trudged through the mud toward him. Her face was burning from her tears now, but the rain hid them, and she cared not anymore if he saw.

Onward they plodded, and she fell again. When Harlen turned he saw thin blood running down one thigh. His eyes instantly lost their hardness, and his bland expression changed into one of immense concern. "By the One, You're bleeding!" He said, running to her and dropping his bow.

Hyandai tried to wave him back. "No, I will mend." She said, looking up at him. "We should get to your village before resting."

His hands were on her sides, lifting her from the mud, and they kept lifting until she was cradled in his arms, almost as a child. "No, Hyandai." He said. "We will find shelter now." He was weeping as well now. He stooped and she picked up his bow from the mud. She had the two weapons clutched to her chest, along with her bag of possessions. He walked through the mud sinking almost to his knees with her added weight, and he pressed on. Finally, they came to a tree with very heavy leaves, and a dense canopy. It was also on a slight rise, and was reasonably dry underneath. He sat her on the ground at its base, with her back against it. "I am sorry, Rapier." He said. "I don't know what to do or say about your leaving." His face was sad and worried. He fished out a cloth from his pack. "Here, for your hurt." He said. He rose and walked around the tree. She heard him take off his pack as she put the cloth into place.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 03



"I do not know what to do either, Harlen." She said around the tree. "You think I wish to leave you?" Her voice was breaking, all the crying was taking a toll on her. "My desire is to stay, you know." She answered her own question. He walked back around and sat before her. "Very much." She said to him. Her golden eyes were full of desire, and of hurt, and of love. "If I could, I would stay with you, right here, under this tree."

He said. "I know that you have a duty to your people. I would feel the same, I think." He smiled half-heartedly. "Given all your other good traits, I should have expected loyalty to be among them."

She returned the smile. "My loyalty is divided now." She said. "And the division is a very close one." Her smile soured. "But the needs of my people outweigh my own happiness, and sadly, yours, which is more dear to me than my own."

He nodded. "When the time comes, I will try to not to be bitter again." Harlen said, taking her hand and kissing it gently. "I want to enjoy what time with you that I am blessed with." His smile took on a sad beauty. "If you left me now, I would still have been luckier than most men."

She leaned forward and clung to his neck, and kissed it. "I am the lucky one. To have stumbled through the woods and run into, quite literally, a hero." She said into his hair. He grabbed her to him, and lifted her onto his lap. She nestled into his arms and onto his legs, then felt his lips on her neck, and tilted her head back to allow him freedom with it. He kissed and nibbled on her throat and under her ear. Her breath became short, and the sensations from her neck were traveling all over her body. He worked up to her slim, pointed ear, then began to gently lick it, and kiss the lobe. She moaned at that touch, and felt the sparks of pleasure fire down her spine this time, and come to rest at the root of her spine.

She pushed gently from his lips. "Harlen, much more of that, and I may do something injurious to myself." She giggled. "But, here, let me do something." She said and leaned over to his neck and began to plant tiny kisses and bites over its thick surface. He reveled in her kisses, and thrilled to her little bites. She smiled inwardly as he became fully erect under her leg, he was quite easy to arouse, she thought. But then again, her own arousal had been no chore, either. One of her hands was in his hair, knotting itself into the strands, an the other hand was on his chest, sliding downward. Occasional little drops of water would strike them, but they heeded them not. Her hand came to rest over his heart, and she could feel his raw power through it. His heart was pounding like a signal drum, pulsing with enough force to feel even with her own chest were she to press against him. She pulled her legs up to her chest and turned in his lap, facing him directly, and unfolded her legs around his waist. His powerful arms pulled her to him, pressing her against him from groin to chin. The heartbeat felt massive against her own chest, and her heart beat more stoutly in sympathy. He was so much taller than she, that even sitting he had almost half a head of height on her. She clung to him, as well, kissing his neck and collar, and loving the feel of the huge, powerful hands on her back.

She leaned up and pulled his head down with the hand still in his hair. "Harlen," She whispered into his ear. "Were I not injured, I would ask you now to take me." She felt his manhood now pressed against her womanhood and up to her navel. He was hard now, like that part of him was carven of wood.

He whispered a reply into her ear. "I may hold you to that before we take you home."

One of his hands left her back and slid downward, and folded itself over her well-shaped bottom. The fingers pressed inward, and under her loincloth. She gasped at is slid into the cleavage of her rear. She had never thought of passionate sparks coming from there before. It was surprisingly agreeable, though, and she let herself open to his touch. The fingers moved forward until they slid gently over her labia, then up to the knob at her opening's top, again she gasped, but louder. "Harlen, I am not sure that is a..." He rubbed her clitoris, gently, and she stopped talking. Instead, she only moaned as the sensation turned her whole body into a wound spring. As his finger began to trace out little circles, the spring wound tighter, and she clung to him harder, untangling her fingers from his hair and putting both arms around his neck. She started to lift herself up slightly. Unconsciously, she was giving him better access to her most intimate place. The finger speeded up, and she groaned somewhere deep inside her throat. Biting into his shoulder with her tiny, sharp teeth.

Faster and faster the finger moved, and her body wound up tighter and tighter. Soon, her head was level with his as she had drawn her arms up completely. He turned as she groaned loudly, and he kissed her, deeply. She felt his tongue slide into her mouth, and fill it. She sucked on that tongue, greedily as the tension in the spring that was her suddenly let loose, unwinding in a explosion of pleasure that promised to leave her drained, and completely unwound. Her arms and legs locked in place, her head tilted back, breaking the kiss, and her breathing stopped, until it left her in the form of a soft scream. He heard his name in it, mixed with words in the elven tongue. It sounded almost like a part of a song.

Her arms and legs relaxed all at once, once the tension had expended itself. Then she slumped against him, kissing his chest. "Harlen." She whispered. "Harlen." She said again, breathing in then saying his name several more times with each exhalation. She finally slowed her breathing to a reasonable pace, then said. "Please, do hold me to it." She said, smiling broadly. He turned, keeping her wrapped about him, until he could lean back to the tree, she laid on his chest and sighed. "That was the most amazing sensation I have ever felt, my pillow." She said. Harlen just laid there and stroked her back. They stayed like that a long while, ignoring the wet and rain. It eventually let up, but they were not conscious to notice it.

They awoke when the sun was casting the last beams of the day under the retreating clouds. The ground was still soft, but the rain was gone and the air drying quickly. A vivid rainbow seemed to arc over their heads and she looked up at it. She murmured something in elven then kissed Harlen's cheek.

"What was that about?" He asked.

Hyandai said. "When one sees a rainbow, you can make a wish, and then kiss the other person before they kiss you and you get the wish." She said, smiling widely, then giggling.

Harlen said. "What did you wish for?"

"I cannot tell you, or I will not get it, silly man." She said, flirting with him with her eyes.

He gave her his lop-sided grin. "I know what I would have wished for." He said.

She looked at him haughtily and said. "What would that be, since you did not get it anyway?"

"I wished for you to get off my lap and chest." He grinned fully. "But since I lost the game, I suppose you have to stay put." He put his arms around her again, and kissed her on the lips.

"That was a terrible wish." She said, laughing. "For that, no kiss for you." She said and bit her lips between her teeth, hiding them.

He laughed at that, and kissed her absent lips. "You're so adorable." He said. And then got lost in her sparkling eyes. From where he lay, the sun was lighting up her auburn hair and creating a red nimbus of the loose strands that had come out in their thrashings. "You have a halo, my angel." He said, staring.

"Angel?" She asked. "Now I am divine?" Her face took on a pious look. "Then perhaps we should no longer think lecherous thoughts at one another." She put her hands in front of her palms together, as if in Oneian prayer. Harlen was a practicing Oneian, but was no fanatic, it was quite funny, and he laughed at her. In the Oneian faith, angels were above such things as lust, greed, and hate.

Harlen put his hands on her waist and said. "Oops, my mistake, that was the devil's fire I saw behind you, you must be a demonette instead, perhaps a succubus." He said with a look of hopefulness in his eyes.

She leaned forward and bared her teeth. "Should I drain," She paused a long second, suddenly he felt her small hand on his manhood, gripping it through his trousers. "Your soul then?" She said, huskily. He gasped at the touch and his organ swelled to full arousal. She had never fully held a man's handle before and liked the way it throbbed in her grip. Even his organ felt powerful was her thought. She had played games with young elven boys and even a few grown elves. They had nothing like this man had. She could barely encircle it with her fingers, and if theirs throbbed, it was too small a throb to detect. Her own breathing was now fast again, and she felt herself desiring it inside her.

Harlen's eyes were wide, and he was amazed. Her hand felt cool and soft on his pole, even through his trousers. He felt himself twitch at the touch, and he was already near to spending. "I'd happily sell it to you." He said, his voice tremulous.

She moved her hand down to the base and pulled upward, in a long, smooth stroke. "Then I shall." She said, then laughed as demonically as she could, which was not very, with her voice quavering with excitement. Hyandai looked down with wide eyes at his manhood fully shaped against his pants. He was huge, she thought, not so monstrous as the orc that had forced his way into her, but compared to an elven lad, his was a somewhat frightening proposition in and of itself. Her hand moved back down, and he groaned again. She used her other small hand to unfasten his belt, and push his breeches down and away. She released her grip on him and took a fresh hold, skin-on-skin. He gasped as her cool, slim fingers found his girth. 

"I'm not going to last long against a demon, I can tell you that, emphatically." He said, his eyes half-lidded. She reversed direction and began stroking a bit faster. Soon, she felt his legs tense under her and his hips bucked upward a little. His orgasm caused him to lift them up as he straightened his back between his shoulders against the tree and his heels. His ejaculate flew up into the air several inches before coming back down on her hand and over his exposed skin. Only a little got onto his garments, which had been her intent. No need for this to be messy, she thought. She watched as the thick white fluid dripped over her fingers and down his shaft to the little forest of hairs at its base. She thought about what she had said about humans having hair down there and giggled.

Harlen looked at her. "I am so lacking I rate a giggle?" He asked, with mock hurt on his face.

She used her cloth, which was only a little bloody on one side to clean his spend. She did it gently, and with reverence, and used the opportunity to give his manhood a good looking-over. She finally released it and refolded the cloth so that no blood or semen was visible, then she put it in her bag.

"Hardly, my Quesset." She said. "I believe that I need two hands to properly wield it." She said, miming holding a two-handed weapon. "Actually, your size gives me some pause, Harlen." She said, with a serious face. "We will need patience for me to accommodate you."

He looked into the distance. "I never thought I would wish for a smaller handle." He said, with a face blank of thought.

She laughed. "Do not wish for that. For having seen it, I now have expectations." She said, and laid back onto his chest and kissed him, sliding her little tongue into his mouth and tickling his. "Were I to reach down now, and find smaller, I would be greatly disappointed." She her smile was wide and lustful.

"Well, right now, you likely would, but give me a bit." He said.

She snuggled to his chest. "Of course, but only a bit." She said, and they held each other for a while. 

Finally he said. "We should get a blanket. The light fails us, and we might as well rest to arrive in town fresh." The night insects were buzzing, and the birds would alert them of anyone approaching. She stood up from him and watched as he used his shoulders to climb the tree with his back. They went to the big pack and he took out two blankets. "You will not make me sleep alone again will you?" She asked looking at the two blankets.

"No." He said, a flash of displeasure crossing his face. "And I regret my behavior last night. I missed a night with you in my arms, and those have become dear to me." Then he looked at the blankets and said. "I just wanted one for under and one for over." He cast the first blanket onto the ground.

She smiled and said. "Many good things come together as one over and one under." She said, nodding. And laid upon the blanket. He also sat, and flung the second blanket over the two of them.

He looked at her in the failing light, watching her eyes gather the light and shine forth. "Do they?" Asked Harlen. His mind was spinning with the thought of this wondrous elven creature, who had all but promised to take him into herself. The thought alone was enough to make him dizzy with anticipation.

She nodded and looked at him. "You shall see." She said, smiling menacingly. 

She snuggled up to him on his side, and grabbed his arm for her pillow. He willingly formed to her and held her until she dozed off. The night in the forest always made him feel happy. The sounds of the animals, and the trees whistling gently, the dripping water from the leaves was an added bonus tonight, and he thoroughly enjoyed it. With the entire forest whispering him to sleep, he drifted off. 



The Solitary Arrow Ch. 04



The sunlight piercing the trees struck Harlen in the eyes, and brought him to wakefulness quickly. Hyandai was still asleep, which, he thought, was just as well. His manhood was swollen in his sleep, and pressed between her thighs. He gently tried to pull loose, and he felt the muscles of her thighs tighten on his handle. "Leaving me so soon?" She said with a tone of accusation.

He could not speak, so stunned was he. Finally he said. "You're awake?"

She half turned to him and smiled. "I have been awake almost half an hour." She said. Her hand crept between her legs and the tips of her fingers stroked the glans of his penis. "As has your soldier, here." The feeling of her fingers almost made him twitch into an orgasm, but he controlled himself.

Harlen murmured. "Would have been nicer to have invited both of us over."

Her fingers caressed the shaft under the head. "It was his idea, he would not be told no." She said, her voice noticeably deeper in tone to her norm. 

He noted that he was no longer trying to pry himself loose, and pushed back to her. Using his arms about her to pull her tight to him. She moaned as his shaft slid over her opening.

'Even through two layers of cloth,' Harlen thought, 'she is so responsive.'

Her hand left the head and shaft of his swollen pole and slid over her hip to his belt buckle. It worked clumsily behind her own back and finally unfastened it. Harlen pulled back a bit, and she pushed his pants down a bit, letting his manhood spring free. He then pushed back to her, feeling the ultimate softness of her thighs on the sides of his organ, and the wetness of her...she was not wearing her loincloth! What he felt was her opening, sliding slickly over the top surface of his throbbing member.

Her juices were flowing quite freely, from what he could feel, and as he slid forward, she gave a soft gasp, then moaned, clenching her thighs together. He pulled back, exhilarating in the intimacy of the contact. When he pushed forward again, the swollen glans of his penis tried to part her labia. She pulled forward, gasping. "No. We cannot do that yet." She said. "As much as I wish it, we must wait a few more days."

Harlen, without any fuss, pulled back again, and lifted his trousers. "We probably shouldn't rush you, then." He said. "I can't guarantee I won't try if we're that close."

Hyandai rolled over and kissed his cheek. "I understand." She said. "But it was fun for that moment." She smiled widely. She pushed his shoulder and forced him to his back. She leaned up, then, onto her arm, so that she was surveying his person.

Her hand touched his chest, and started tracing a line down it. The fingers slid over his stomach, then his pelvis, eventually, they found and enwrapped his erect member. Harlen felt his pants being lowered again. And laid back with his eyes closed. If she wished to stroke him again, he would never think of stopping her. Her hand felt cool on his pole, and the breeze was even more cooling. Then, suddenly, he felt warmth engulf the glans, warmth and wet. His eyes popped open to see Hyandai's mouth stretched wide and taking him into her. His head fell back as he groaned deep in his chest.

Her sharp little teeth scraped his flesh and her warm lips held him. He could feel her tiny tongue flicking over the glans, and under it. Then she slowly started to take more of him into her mouth, inch after inch, until just over half of his organ was gone. He looked down again, and saw her eyes watching over her head, and at him. She started to move up and down, slowly, and gently. Her hand went to his scrotum and played gently with his testicles. When next he looked, she was watching his face. He moved one hand to her cheek and caressed it. She smiled with her eyes, then grabbed his hand with her massaging hand, leaving his stones unturned. He felt his release building, starting at his balls, and working its way up his organ.

"Hyandai." He said, struggling to even produce understandable noise. "You must stop if you do not wish me to spend within you." His voice was now strained, he was fighting his orgasm to hold it back until she had time to stop.

However, she seemed to have differing plans. She started moving her head faster, and the sensation of suction increased. She began to moan as his hips bucked and he started to climax. Pulse after pulse of semen shot out, he felt, yet she did not seem to slow at all.

Finally, spent, he laid back, and looked down. Her throat was working furiously, swallowing what he had just put within her mouth. She looked up, lifting her mouth from his now drooping tool. She smiled. "I hope you did not mind that." She said. "I wanted to see what the fuss about that act was."

Harlen stroked her hair. "What fuss would that be?" He asked. Suddenly feeling very worn out.

"They say that doing that will make a man do anything you wish." She said, smiling at him.

"I can see why." Harlen replied, still stroking her hair. "It was marvelous."

She giggled. "So, I did it rightly then?"

Harlen shrugged. "It felt wonderful, so I would say yes. You did." He looked down at her. "Did it not bother you to eat my seed, though?"

She pulled his pants up and fastened his belt. "Not really, no." She said. "Though, I will admit that it was not the most pleasant tasting thing I have eaten." Then she looked at him. "Nor the worst." She sat up and caressed his chest. "I did it to please you, not my tongue." She concluded, nodding.

Harlen sat up as well, and kissed her. "Then you did it perfectly, for I am totally pleased." She kept her mouth shut for the kiss, causing him to pull back and regard her with curiosity.

"Kissing me for a few moments would be a bad idea, unless you wish to taste of yourself." She explained, smiling brightly.

He shrugged again. "If you can force yourself to do it..." He let the sentence fall off and kissed her soundly, she opened to him this time, and her mouth once again filled with his tongue. After a few moments, he stopped and regarded her. "I didn't taste anything but your own taste, of cinnamon." He said.

She giggled. "Then you are fortunate." She said. "As I said, it is not the most appealing of tastes." Then she hugged herself to him. "But, I will do it when you like, until my body is whole again."

Harlen stroked her hair again, and put his other hand on her back. "Hardly seems fair." He said absently. "For you to serve me thus, and I cannot please you as well."

Hyandai looked at him with her head slightly tilted. "Can you not? You pleased me quite adequately last night." She said. "I have no complaint on that count." She stood up, and started putting her loincloth back into her skirt. Harlen made no effort to look away, in fact he watched her with fascination. Her pubic mound was indeed hairless, and very smooth. The barest of clefts separated the two halves of her groin. Then below, the thin folds of her labia protruded very slightly. She noticed his stare. "Fear not, you shall get ample opportunity to look at my body." She said, smiling gently as she tugged the loincloth into place.

He blinked a couple of times, then stood up. The morning was clear and very bright, as if the rain yesterday had cleaned the air and made it more transparent to the sun. The couple gathered up their goods and began to trek northward again. As they walked, Harlen, as usual, kept up a pattern of scanning around them, and seldom spoke. She simply walked alongside him and kept her words until opportune times. After two hours, they rested, sitting beside a small brook, and drinking.

Hyandai looked up from the water. "How do you think your people will react to me?" She asked, looking at him through his reflection in the water.

Chuckling, the hunter said. "Very likely, they will be fascinated with you." He looked at her reflection, too. "Remember, they've not seen an elf in nigh fifty years."

She nodded. "I hope the reaction is so positive." She said, touching his reflection in the water and tracing his outline. Tiny ripples spread from her fingers, causing him to waver, like a mirage.

He hefted his heavy pack. "We shall see in about two hours more." Harlen pronounced. "I'm sorry for pushing you so hard yesterday, but it did get us most of the way." His face took on a apologetic look.

She stood and kissed his cheek. "We will speak no more of it." She pronounced, and left him smelling the cinnamon scent lingering in the air as she stepped away.

The forest was rich with sounds as they walked through it, and the floor springy beneath their feet. Soon, they passed a small farmstead, one of many around Morrovale. As they walked down its fence row, Hyandai saw a group of three children playing in the yard beside the main house. They looked to be between three and six years of age. She stopped and watched them play. There were two little girls and a boy. The boy was the middle child, probably about five. The kids caught sight of the travelers and ran toward them, screaming happily.

As they drew close, they started saying "Harlen! Harlen!" And they stopped at the low stone wall at the edge of the lawn, jumping up and down. Harlen laughed and stopped beside Hyandai.

"Hello there, children, is the household well?" He asked.

The kids nodded in unison, causing Hyandai to giggle. This drew the kids' collective attention, and the eldest girl gasped. "You're an elf!" She said, smiling and her eyes went wide. "You're an elf-girl!"

Hyandai said, "Cormamin lindua ele lle." And bowed to the kids. The eldest girl giggled at that and bowed back. The other two simply stood an gawked. She said. "It means 'My heart sings to see you.'."

The boy asked. "Harlen, is she your wife?" He was awestruck. "She's very pretty."

Uncomfortably, Harlen said. "No, she's a friend."

Hyandai leaned over the low wall and beckoned to the boy with a finger. He got closer, and she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "And you are very handsome, young man." She said, her face serious, but smiling.

The boy covered his cheek and blushed almost purple, then dashed toward the house screaming gleefully that an elf-girl had kissed him. Hyandai and the eldest girl giggled at him. "He's a silly boy." Said the girl.

Hyandai nodded agreement. "All boys are silly." She said. "But they are sometimes cute."

Three small cloth-wrapped bundles appeared in Harlen's hand, and he handed them to the oldest. "Here, share with your brother and sister, now." He said, and the girl took them and immediately gave one to her sister. 

She unwrapped hers and it seemed to be some sort of sweet roll. They started eating them happily calling, "Darvid." Then the girl said. "Thank you Harlen." Then sped off toward the house.

He watched Hyandai's eyes follow the children and watched them sparkle as she did so. "You like children?" Harlen asked as they resumed walking.

"Oh, my, yes." She said, looking at him curiously. "Does not everyone?"

Harlen nodded. "Pretty much, I suppose." He said. "But you looked almost like you wanted to run off with them."

The elf-maiden blushed a bit. "I did." She said. "Children are such a blessing. We have few in our village at any one time. The bane of a long-lived race." They had entered a large orchard, the trees planted in regimented rows. They were pecan trees and not yet ripened. The two walked along at a brisk pace through them.

Finally, they came to a unpaved road, just two ruts in the ground, half muddy, but with a well-beaten foot-path alongside. They followed this road. "Just a bit farther, Hyandai." Harlen said.

They were walking past several small cottages of the half-timbered design that seemed to be favored by the people of this land. No one seemed about, and Harlen said. "It is the day of the Market, so they're probably all in town."

Hyandai asked. "Market day?" She looked at him. "A special day?"

He shrugged. "Sort of, I guess." He said. "We have it every week on this day."

She smiled. "Will we be going to market?"

"Yes, after we go by my home." He replied, then a moment later, pointed off the road at a small house set back among some trees. "And we're there."

She gasped and looked down the foot path. The grass in front was tall and lush, and the trees around it thick and heavy. "It is lovely." She said. She examined the house, another half-timbered home, slightly larger than most, smaller than some. He opened the gate and they proceeded down the path.

He came to the front door and opened it. There was no lock. A boy was dozing on a bench inside the door. He looked to be about twelve to Hyandai. When they came in he came to wakefulness quickly. "Wha. Huh? I'm awake." He said.

Harlen laughed. "Hyandai, this is Trevir, he's my groundskeeper." He said, holding a hand out to indicate the blinking youth. "One day, I'll teach him to hunt, but until then he sleeps and runs errands for me, and now for you, too."

Trevir looked at him, then at his companion, then his eyes went wide. "Harlen, she's an elf." He stammered out. Then he looked at her more, and said. "Gor, but she's pretty." Smiling and gawking quite unabashedly.

Hyandai blushed at this. "Thank you, Trevir. I am Hyandai, and I am pleased to meet you." She bowed low, and winked at him. She followed her elven tradition by saying. "You look to be a strong and smart boy." She said.

Trevir gawked a moment more then said. "Wow." Then sat back down.

"You can go home early today, Trevir." Harlen said. "Just after you fetch me the perishables from the market." He added, and gave the boy a small number of coins.

Trevir absently took the coins, still staring at Hyandai. "Sure, Harlen." He said. "The usual?"

Harlen nodded, then said, "Yes, and please get a variety of fruits, also."

The boy looked at Harlen a moment, then locked back onto Hyandai. "Fruit, right." He said and started for the door, walking slowly, and backwards.

Hyandai simply stood with her hands behind her back and her feet together, and smiled at the boy.

"The fruit is for her, Trev. Don't forget it." The hunter said to him.

He blinked. "No sir! I won't then!" He turned and with one last glance at Hyandai, bolted out the door."

"Well, now you shall not be a great surprise to everyone in town." Harlen said, grinning.

Hyandai looked at him curiously. "Why is that?"

He chuckled. "Because they are being informed even now by the unofficial town crier." He pointed out the door toward where Trevir had left the door ajar in his haste.

She giggled. "I see." She said. "Perhaps you should have made for me a cloak." She said, nodding seriously.

"Well, let me show you around the house." Harlen said, waving her in past the entryway. They entered a large room that took up over half of the ground floor. "This is the common room." He said, waving his hand expansively. There was comfortable, but very functional-looking furniture in here, a couch and two rocking chairs, along with a long table and chairs about it. A small kitchen led off to the right. To the left was another small room, with a closed door. A stair led up and down to their immediate left. Harlen pointed to the closed door. "Tanning room." He said. He pointed to the downward stairs. "Root cellar." Then up the stairs. "Bedrooms." Then he led her to a door on the far side of the large room. Opening it he said. "And the grand finale, the bath room." He waved at a massive wooden tub set over a low, squat fireplace. "My pride and joy." He said, beaming at it.

Hyandai looked at the massive water-filled tub. "That is quite the luxury, Harlen." She said.

He smiled. "The dukes bounty has been generous to me, and I always wanted a bath." He said. He bent and lit the fire beneath it with a lamp. "It takes a while to heat, and I wish to use it later." He explained.

Hyandai nodded. "I would as well." She said, looking about the room. There were no windows at low level, but the entire upper two feet were of large sheets of glass. "The glass alone must have cost you dearly." She said with some awe in her voice.

"Not really, Hyandai." He said. "I told you much has changed since the elves have stopped visiting us." He pointed to the glass. "A place in the Ghant makes that stuff pretty cheaply, you order it and a week or two later, a wagon brings it in." He said. He pointed to the massive pile of logs against the wall. "That is the cost of this thing, keeping it hot." He said.

He led her back to the stairs then up them. At the top were two doors. He opened the right one. "This is your bedroom." He said. Leading her in. It was well-furnished with wall-hangings and a large bed with a canopy.

She looked at it. "It is lovely, Harlen." She said, looking concerned. "But I thought we would be sharing a bed, hoped for it, anyway."

"We will." He said. "But remember, that this is a village that generally observes the Oneian ways." He explained. "And it tends to frown upon people sharing beds outside of marraige."

She nodded. "I see." She smiled, finally getting it. "So, this room is 'mine' so that they will say nothing ill of us?"

Harlen smiled and said. "Exactly."

He turned across the hall. "This is our room." He said, opening the door. The bed was huge, and took up most of the room.

Hyandai looked at it with wide eyes. "You certainly like your bed." She observed.

He chuckled. "My grandmother bought it for me when I bought the house." He looked at the huge four-post bed, with its ornate canopy. "She thought it would attract me a woman."

She looked at him mischievously. "And has it?"

He looked at her. "I don't know, do you like it?" He asked.

"Yes." She said, sitting on the bed. "It is very soft." Then she scooted farther onto it and laid down. "Yes, very soft." She looked down at Harlen. "I would say that your grandmother was correct, and you should bring girls up to see this bed more, they would indeed like it."

"I'll be sure to tell her." Harlen said. "She'll think it wonderful that a woman had seen it, much less lain in it." He chuckled. Hyandai, however was seriously looking at the bed, examining it closely. "Something wrong?" He asked.

Hyandai blinked and looked at him. "I just wanted to memorize the place in which my maidenhood will be lost." She said, and grinned at him.

Harlen nodded, he liked that she refused to acknowledge her rape at the hands of the orc. "Well, if you were serious about your offers last night and this morning, then yeah, this would probably be the place."

A voice sounded from down stairs. "Harlen! I've your things!" It was Trevir. The two went downstairs to the boy, he had two cloth bags.

"To the kitchen Trev." Said Harlen. "We will unpack and then you can go." He added.

The boy followed the couple into the kitchen and set down the bags. They began to take things out and Harlen directed them to their destinations about the kitchen. At some point, Trevir was walking toward the bags for another item, when he caught sight of Hyandai bending over at the waist digging into the bag. He froze solid and his mouth gaped. Harlen quickly glanced to be sure she was indeed wearing her loincloth, and she was. She turned about and stood, noted the boy's expression and smiled kindly. As she went by him toward the cabinet, she brushed her hip against the boys arm, and his knuckles dragged across her exposed thigh. She smiled at Harlen with much mischief in her eyes. He blinked a couple of times, smiled a very small smile, and went about his chore.

They finished, and Harlen gave him a couple more coins, and sent him home. "That was a cruel thing to do to a young man, you tease." Harlen said as he closed the door.

Hyandai's face went expressive with innocence. "And what would that be?" She asked. "I simply needed to pass by him."

Harlen laughed as he grabbed her and brought her unresisting to him. He pulled her close to him and kissed her deeply, grabbing her rump in both hands and almost lifting her from the floor. She pressed to him and put her own arms around his massive chest, almost unable to reach her hands behind him. When they parted. "You know, at his age, he's likely to think of you for a very long time when he, well, lies in bed."




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 04



She smiled sweetly. "And that is a bad thing?" She asked.

"I suppose it is a good one, actually." He said, letting her go. "I wish I had a beauty such as yours to imagine when I would be alone at night."

She walked toward the bath room, the water was starting to give off steam. "I think the bath is almost ready." She said, dipping her hand into it. "Oh. It is quite warm." She added, smiling back to Harlen who was still crossing the common room.

When he came into the bath room, she was already in the water up to her neck. "Oh, by the spirits, Harlen, this is wondrous." She said, sighing as she bobbed in the water.

Harlen looked at her face, unable to see into the water from the floor. "Well, when you're done, let me know."

She hit him with a hurled rag. "You are not leaving." She said. "Get in the tub, and we will bathe together." She held her arms out. "Else, I may fall asleep from the relaxation and drown." She had a mock imploring look on her pretty face and her golden eyes flashed like bits of the summer sun.

Harlen made a circular motion with his index finger and Hyandai, giggling, turned around in the water to face away. He took off his clothes and climbed up onto the platform and then into the tub. She turned back around now, and they regarded one another.

For the first time, they were unclothed with each other. She looked about the tub and saw wash rags, and soft soap in a wicker basket. The soap was sweet smelling, not like the lye back in the cave. "Turn around." She commanded, holding up a rag and the soap.

Harlen turned around and felt her small hands on his back, lathering him up. She smiled. "I love your muscles, Harlen." She said, generously ignoring the scars that marked his beating at some time in his past. She let her fingers trace over the muscles on his back, and down his spine. With the rag, she scrubbed his skin and rinsed him off. She then washed his rump, cleaning him thoroughly, eliciting a couple of gasps from him. Lastly, she actually dove under the water to wash his legs, holding her breath for as long as she could while scrubbing each leg under the water. She finished his legs and with her hair plastered to her head, handed him the soap and rag. "My turn."

She presented her back to him, and braced her arms on the wall of the tub. He lathered up her back and buttocks. Then rubbed the coarse rag over it, scrubbing her skin. She gasped at the roughness of it, but it also felt delicious. She arched her back as he ran the rag down her spine. He then scrubbed her rump and then up the middle, causing her to gasp this time. Harlen took a moment to say. "Your back is lovely, too, you know?" He did the same as she on the legs, diving into the water to scrub them, she obligingly parted her legs for him and he scrubbed all the way up, then between them as he stood back up. Her spine arched more and she moaned loudly. He leaned forward and put his arms around her waist, and kissed her from above, so curved was her spine at that moment.

Hyandai turned back around, a wide smile upon her lovely, heart-shaped face. "Now for your front." She said, taking the cloth and soap from him. She soaped up and scrubbed his chest, running her fingers over his muscles and down his stomach. She then reached down into the water and soaped up his manhood, liking how it slipped and slid through her hands. When the soap had dissipated, she said. "See, two hands?" Harlen looked down, and she did indeed have both hands around his shaft, and still almost half-again another hand's worth lay before her fingers. She started to stroke him gently with both hands, small slow motions.

Harlen's voice, slightly quavery, said. "Uh. Isn't it clean yet?"

She looked down into the water. "Perhaps it is, but I wish to be sure." She said, kissing his neck as her hands slipped over his swollen organ.

He gently moved her hands off of his engorged rod. "Let's not make a mess in the water." He said, smiling. "Besides its my turn to wash your front." He added with a gleam in his eyes.

She leaned back against the wall and enjoyed the feeling of his hands moving all over her, soaping her, scrubbing her, rinsing her off. He moved downward inexorably, then got to her soft opening, and with a soapy hand washed at it, moving his fingers over her opening and clitoris repeatedly. She gasped and leaned back against the wall more firmly. He stroked her that way for a few moments, when she gripped his wrist and pushed it away. "Let us not make a mess in the water, hmm?" She said, giving him a playful look.

She moved to him and wrapped her long, slim arms around his neck, pulling him down for a long kiss. Her tongue teased his out and into her mouth, then she sucked on it a softly. His hands grabbed her rump again and did lift her up this time. She put her legs around his waist and pressed to him with all her strength. His thick pole was sliding over her entry and rubbing her clit in passing. She pushed her hips in and out, rubbing them against one another, and she let out a small moan, and moved her mouth to his neck, biting him gently, then harder as her movements became more insistent. He stroked her back as she slipped over him, and then felt her teeth clamp on his neck hard, and she screamed into her clenched mouth and his shoulder. Then she shuddered and was still, gasping for air. Harlen, caressed her and kissed her hair.

"Harlen." She said quietly. "I feel I almost cannot wait." She said, almost crying. "If that felt that good, my mind spins with what the real act will feel like."

He said. "I hope it will feel good for you, I know it will for me." He put his arms behind him on the lip of the bath and lifted them both out and onto the lip and turned and stood on the deck, with her still wrapped about him. She put her legs down and he held her waist and lowered her to the floor, her legs were a bit unsteady, but he helped her to step off the deck. He lifted large metal plates over the burning fire, covering the logs where the lack of air would extinguish the flames.

The gathered their clothes, and left the bath. She asked. "What shall I wear while I launder my clothes?" He guided her up the stairs by hand and into 'her' room. He opened a large wall-closet, and pulled out a dress. It had been his mothers, and she had been a relatively slight lady. She held the cotton dress to herself. "This should do nicely." She said, and slipped it over her head. It's hem touched the floor, but not badly.

He pointed to a large wall mirror. "Take a look." He said.

She stepped before it and gasped. The dress was lovely on her, it fit perfectly at the waist, and nearly so at the chest. "Your mother must have been a tiny woman, for a human."

Harlen nodded. "She was." He said. "And she had great tastes in clothes, if somewhat conservative." He added.

She swirled in the long dress. "I do not know, Harlen, this dress leaves people wanting to see more." She said, smiling.

He looked appraisingly at her. "Usually, a petticoat is worn under the skirt part." He said, digging a large mass of frills and cloth from the closet.

She looked at it with horror. "Gods, no." She said. "I have heard of those terrible things, and corsets, I'll not subject myself to either, no offence."

With a shrug, he put it back into the closet. "I'd rather see your legs moving under the skirt." He said.

"Would it terribly upset you to raise the hem a little?" She asked, eyeing the floor-dragging edge.

"Not at all, Hyandai." He said, smiling, I'll do several in the morning.

She turned and regarded her still nude companion. "Are you just going to stay unclothed for the market?" She asked.

He looked down and started as if he had not realized he was naked. "I suppose I should, huh?"

She nodded seriously. "I do not intend to have my companion spoken of more than I when I make my grand debut." She said, then giggled.

He went into their room and got out a pair of black linen pants and a white cotton shirt. He then pulled on socks and a pair of long shiny black boots, that reached to his knees. He stood and presented herself to her.

She walked up and straightened his collar and said. "Very nice, my handsome man." She said, and pulled him down to a kiss. She stepped behind him and braided his pony tail into a tight, intricate weave. Then put his belt on him. She added her small sword belt to her waist while he quickly took up her hem. He was surprisingly quick with the needle and he slipped her boots onto her feet. He rummaged in a box in his closet and found two finely-wrought copper and silver bracers and slid them onto her wrists. She regarded herself in the mirror one last time while she braided her own hair into a pony tail matching his. When she turned to look at him, she was wearing a incredibly lovely necklace.

"Where did you get that?" He asked, his eyes wide with amazement. "It's almost as pretty as you." He said.

She looked at it. "I wear it always. It is my fiamir" She said, holding it out form her neck. He leaned closer and looked closely at it. It was even more intricate than it looked at first. There were literally uncountable tiny facets to the two-inch disk of gemstone. Inside, something was moving gently, like a colored blob of material inside the gem. "You would call it my 'soul-necklace." She said. "But that is a poor translation." She looked at it and laid it back on her chest. "It is part of our way." She said, nodding as if that explained all.

"But I never saw it before." Harlen said. "I doubt I would have missed it."

She grinned at him. And it vanished as if it just faded from the world, then it faded back around her neck. "I can make it disappear and reappear." She said. "Else, the orcs or some other unscrupulous persons might try to steal it." She shrugged. "It is such a part of me, I often forget about it like I often forget my ears."

He looked at her sharply pointed ears. "I certainly don't forget them." He said, leaning in and kissing on one.

She cooed, and then pulled away. "We must to market, my strong man." She said, putting her arm through his. "Let us go show me to the people and see how they react."

They walked down the stairs and out the front door. Harlen beamed with pride as he escorted the incontestably most beautiful woman in the village. His chest swelled and his step became rather animated, she noted, and that made her smile. She never had a companion just plain show her off before, and it felt good.

They opened the gate in front of his home and turned toward the village.



The Solitary Arrow Ch. 05



Harlen and Hyandai walked the narrow lane toward the village. The road was now paved with crushed gravel, rather than the plain dirt ruts that marked the country road. She watched about them with wide eyes, taking in the village as the buildings grew closer together. Human homes were very different from the flets of her people, sitting high in the bowers of the mighty ornthalion trees. They seemed comfortable, though, she thought, and quite practical for the environment they were set in.

Most of the buildings were of a half-timber design, that is, they had frames made up of large wooden timbers that formed interesting 'skeletons' that were then filled in with rocks and a form of plaster to make them into a solid unbroken wall. The timbers were often then painted in brown or black, and the stucco painted a bright pastel color. It made the village at once cohesive and colorful. The roofs were crafted of either tarred thatch, which Hyandai took to be terribly flammable, or of baked ceramic tiles, which overlapped to form a solid roof.

Many of the homes had small gardens near them, full of small crops of vegetables and other small plants, including spices, especially mint, which perfumed the air with a subtle scent. Her brother had warned her that human cities were malodorous places with lots of disease, but she did not perceive this in the least. This place was spacious, with quite a lot of green space, many trees, some very old-looking and tall. They would not have been shamed by any but the very largest growing in any elven community. She did not even detect the slightest taint of toilet stench, either, which she had especially braced for.

As they neared the main center of the village, they came to a gate set in a long wall that seemed to surround this central area. Two men wearing gold and violet livery stood beside the gate on either side. Their chest bore a symbol that looked like a dragon, standing on its hind legs, with flame leaping from its maw. When they saw her, they snapped to attention like they had been prodded with a spear point in the behind. As they approached, they held their long spears at rest, sticking out from them at about a fourty-five degree angle, but when they prepared to pass, the guards brought them straight up, and slapped their heels together. The couple wondered at this sudden display of deference.

"What goes, honorable soldier of the duke?" Harlen said, giving a small bow to the trooper on the left.

The soldier turned to face him, formally. "We simply salute the lady, good sir." He said, smiling toward Hyandai. Then he said very quietly. "We didn't actually believe that there was an elf in the village, Harlen. By the One, you're a lucky bastard!"

Harlen smiled and said. "I agree, Marell, very much." He patted the soldier, an old friend, on the arm. "Carry on then, trooper." He said. Marell snapped back to attention.

Hyandai looked at him as they crossed into the village. "They were acting thus at my behest?" She asked quietly, leaning toward him.

"So it would seem." Harlen said, grinning. "I told you the people would like you."

As they entered the core of the village, people started to be about, almost everyone comes into the center of town during the market, and today was no exception. She gasped as she beheld her first knot of a couple of dozen people, standing around haggling over a newly-arrived load of cloth. As the two approached, almost half of them turned to watch, and most of them had mouths agape in astonishment. Words emerged from the crowd, like 'Elven lady', 'So pretty', and 'So small.' Hyandai nodded toward the crowd as they passed near, and several of the people gave small waves or nodded in return.

The eyes of the crowd followed them around the corner, and she said. "My word, they are shocked, are they not?"

Harlen chuckled. "Now you know why I gaped at you when we first met." He stroked the hand that was thrust through his arm. "You are incredibly lovely, and also an elf. Both things warrant you being stared at."

She smiled at him. "You are very sweet, Harlen." She said, and kissed his cheek. "Your flattery makes me feel special." They began to walk again. As they rounded the corner into another open area, she gasped in delight. "Oh, Harlen, look at the children!" She nearly squealed. Her face was full of joy and eagerness. A group of village children, almost twenty strong was playing a game involving a beanbag and running and screaming, and quite a lot of laughing. "So many children." She murmured. "Humans are blessed, Harlen, no matter what my folk say."

Harlen said. "Watch yourself, Hyandai." He warned with a smile on his face. Suddenly, the children saw her and with a surge, and they surrounded the two. All of them were touching her arms and hair, and ears. She grinned widely, unable to contain her happiness at all these charming children, grubby with play, wishing to touch her hands and hair. Cries of 'pretty elf' and 'noble lady.' moved through the little crowd of kids. The two were obliged to stop walking while Hyandai tried to greet each of them in elven, causing a wave of giggles and laughter to move through the crowd. Finally, he managed to shoo them away, and she watched them longingly as they took off to begin their game again.

A tear rolled down each cheek and she was laughing. "Hyandai, are you okay?" Harlen asked.

"I am well." She said. "Children are so dear, and you have so many here." She said, wiping under her eyes. Then she cast a rather odd look at Harlen. "Do you humans spend so much time in your beds, or how do you explain the number of children about?"

Onward they went, and came to the edge of the market. It was a large open square, and there were dozens of colorful tents and wagons about it. Hyandai flinched back from the burst of ambient noise that came from the crowd of many hundreds of people. "Harlen, I think I cannot go there. I have never seen so many folk in one place in my days." She said, her eyes nervous. "I must grow used to it first." She concluded.

Harlen nodded, and they turned to the right, skirting the edge of the crowd, and Harlen helped her up a small set of stairs into a building where a wooden boar's head with a arrow through it hung over the door. They went in and instantly the pungent scent of beer hit her nose, causing it to wrinkle. "An ale house?" She asked.

"Yes." Harlen said. "My favorite place to drink, and dine, when I have the money and don't feel like cooking."

A very old man came from beyond a door and walked behind the counter. "Well, Harlen, I see you made it..."He had finally taken a good look at the newcomers in his tavern. "By the One." He said, walking out from behind the counter. "Loskenaur." He said, and knelt before Hyandai, bowing low and staying that way.

Hyandai looked confused for a moment. "You know my sister?" She asked.

The man looked up. "Sister?" He rose from the floor. "Loskenaur is you sister? You look just like her."

She giggled. "I have been told that is so." She said, trying to straighten her face. "But I am Hyandai, her younger sister."

Harlen said. "This is Tammer. He was my mentor in learning the arts of the wood." He pointed to the old man.

Again Hyandai looked excited. "Tammer! I have heard that name. My sister oft spoke your name in our tales to one another." Then she gasped. "You were her vernoyen. I am very pleased to meet you."

The old man looked at Harlen a moment, then back at Hyandai. "Yes, I was." He said with pride. "For a year and a day, I am sure I was the happiest man in the land." He gave Hyandai a sly look. "Your sister was a wondrous lady."

She nodded. "She is very well thought of." She said seriously. "I certainly think highly of her, as well."

Harlen watched all this with some measure of confusion on his face. "You Harlen, you truant," Tammer said to him, "I don't know what to tell you, son. Best to just be good to this lady, else I will wager I can still set you on your arse!"

The hunter smiled. "I have every intent on treating her like a Goddess, as best I can." He said, stroking her hand.

Tammer grunted and turned about. "You two hungry?" He asked, pointing at two stools in the empty tavern. "I've good stew cooked." He said as they sat. He came back to the table with a large mug of beer, which he sat before Harlen. He went back behind the bar and rummaged about before coming up with a bottle of wine, and filled a finely fluted glass with it. This he set gently before Hyandai, causing Harlen to raise an eyebrow. "You don't expect the lady to drink that wolf piss we call beer, do you?" He said, giving Harlen a hearty slap on the back. "Ladies like her have refined tastes."

He nodded. "I know she does." Soon, though they were eating the very good stew, as promised. And old Tammer was humming happily about the bar.

"Your sister and Tammer?" Harlen asked her quietly over their stew.

Hyandai nodded to him. "Yes, she visited this land much in those days, and she knew him, in particular, very well." She said, winking. "She said he was large, and strong, and skilled in wood lore, and that he made her very, very excited with only his merest touch." She raised her eyebrows at Harlen, and smiled slightly.

He sat back with wide eyes. "Oh." And looked back over at Tammer, who was not a small man, even at his advanced age. "It seems us hunters have one good thing going for us, then, we find elven ladies."

She nodded. "Well, you certainly look in the right place to find us." She agreed. "And you also have the attributes that might well cause us to take pause to admire you." She said, grabbing his arm with her free hand and squeezing his large muscles.

Harlen chuckled. "He talks much of his 'glory days' and I do recall a tale or two of elven lasses, but I always thought he was stretching the truth.

She shook her head. "Not in the least." She said. "My sister has told me many tales of him, actually, and some of them quite, well, descriptive."

They finished their meal and Harlen paid for the food and drink despite Tammer's protests. As they prepared to leave. Hyandai spoke. "When I prepared to be traveling in this region, Tammer, my sister bade me pass on a message, should I see you." She said, almost formally.

"Oh? What's that?" He said, a look of confusion on his lined face.

She reached up with both arms and grabbed Tammer's head and pulled him down to where she gave him a very wet, very passionate kiss, her whole body pressed to him and she moved against his chest and lower body with wanton energy. Her hands wound through his hair and knotted into it, clutching him. When she pulled away, she gasped a bit for air and said. "She said you would understand the meaning." She stepped back, and put her hand back into Harlen's.

Tammer leaned on a table for a moment, then said. "Let her know that the message was well received, and that I miss her too." He said, almost panting. He chuckled a moment, then said to Harlen. "I'm glad she didn't word the message more strongly, else I might need a healer." He bowed to her and then went about his preparations for the after market crowd. Though for the moment they lingered, he kept casting short glances at Hyandai, as if to refresh him memory of something half-forgotten.

The couple walked out of the tavern and back into the streets, folk watched them as they walked and there were a couple of pedestrian collisions that could be attributed to Hyandai's beauty. "Did your sister really give you that message?" Harlen asked, smiling.

"No. But I thought she should have." She giggled. "She always said he was the finest kisser she had ever known." Her eyes flicked around the village, watching all the people, and the tents, and booths, and the children, especially the children.

"And is he?" Harlen asked. "The finest kisser, that is."

Hyandai patted his shoulder. "Should you wish to know, then kiss him yourself." She said, and smiled distantly. "A lady does not kiss and tell of it." She kissed Harlen on the cheek.

"But your sister did so." Harlen said, smiling at her.

She looked at Harlen and gave a dismissive gesture with her free hand. "My sister is no lady." She said. And then looked forward with a self-satisfied smile.

They went about for a while, and came to several stalls that were not in the main press of the crowd. Harlen bought a large bolt of fine green cloth from one vendor, saying that "I will make you a proper dress, per your specifications." They then bought, and ate, some large sweetrolls from one vendor, who tried to refuse their money.

Harlen laughed as they licked their fingers of the sugary syrup. "You could probably walk away with half the market for free if you wished."

Hyandai looked around. "I am pleasantly surprised with the kind welcome your people are giving me, Harlen." She said. "The leaders of my people say that humans are bitter at our parting, yet it seems quite the opposite is true."

"At first, it probably was true." He said. "But more of a bitterness because of something dear being taken away, rather than real hostility." He touched her hand. "I can comprehend that thought." He said, his face now serious.

She nodded. "I suppose I do, as well." She said. Then she kissed him, hard and fully, and with enough show for several men nearby to congratulate him, and a couple of women. When she pulled away, it was Harlen's turn to gasped for air.

"What was that for?" He asked, trying to regain his balance.

She looked at him with eyes tilted up. "Practice." She said, then started toward Harlen's home.

Harlen jogged to catch up with her and she took his arm again. They finished the walk and entered his home. The house was quiet and cool after the crowd and warmth of the day. As soon as the door was shut, Hyandai shed her dress, and stepped out of the pile of cloth on the floor. Harlen gulped as he took in her long form, again nude before him.

"Um. You certainly like to do that quickly." He said, appreciatively.

She picked up the dress. "You humans wear too many clothes." She said. "This dress, lovely as it is, is too confining." She looked at Harlen. "I should help you disrobe, as well." She said, reaching out and unfastening his belt. His arms were occupied with the cloth bundle and he could not stop her.

She knelt before him, and pulled his pants down to the tops of his boots. "I think you felt confined, as well." She said, running her slender fingers up his thighs and taking hold at his root. She leaned in and took him into her mouth, very straightforward and began to gently suck. Harlen fell back against the wall, and held his breath.

"I thought you said you would do that whenever I wish?" He gasped. His rod stiffened within seconds, and he felt her teeth begin dragging on his flesh.

She pulled her mouth off his manhood, and smiled up at him. "You do wish it, do you not?" She said.

"Well, now I do." He said, his voice laced with mock exasperation.

"Then still your tongue, man of mine. And leave me to my task." She said, and began to take him in again. She stretched her neck and made a swallowing motion with tongue and throat. More of him slipped down than before, leaving only a couple of inches outside her lips. She swallowed again, and took him to his base. With a long slow motion, she pulled back off of him, and licked the head. She then forced herself back down, taking him deeply, then back out. Now she was doing this repeatedly, and his heart raced as she took him completely into her with each forward move.

His legs stiffened and he dropped the bolt of cloth onto the little bench. She felt his organ twitch in her mouth and felt his seed pour over her tongue. Swallowing hard with her tongue she maintained pace as it flowed forth, and kept up the motion with her head and lips. Finally, the last of it was gone and she slowed, then stopped. Harlen slid down the wall to sit on the floor. "You should warn me when you're going to do that." He said. "It takes a bit of getting used to, m'lady."

She kissed his cheek. "I did." She said. "You just failed to heed it." She stood up and picked up the cloth, and carried it into the common room. Harlen stood back up and followed her after lifting his trousers. She glanced back over her shoulder at him, her golden eyes sparkling. "And while I do that, I am no lady, either." She said, giving him a very licentious grin.

They went into his small workshop and deposited the bolt of cloth. She looked about and then asked. "Whence do you wash your clothing?" She asked.

"There is a wash tub behind the house." Harlen said, as he looked over the cloth and was apparently sizing up what he wished to do with it. Hyandai grabbed up her doeskin clothes and headed toward the door to the bathing room. It was several minutes before he registered what she had just done, Then he bolted for the rear door like a man on fire.

When he barreled out into the small yard behind the house, she was indeed washing her new garments, and poor Trevir was standing, too stunned to move near the back door. She was not wearing any other garments, and from here, the young man had just received his first comprehensive lesson in female anatomy. Harlen grabbed the unfortunate youth and pulled him back into the house. "It's not polite to stare at people, Trev." Harlen said, trying not to laugh. The youth's expression was one of combined shock and bliss. Now, for certain, the lad would be fantasizing about Hyandai in the late watches of the night. Harlen doubted that he would ever fantasize about much else for all his days.

Trevir blinked a few times, then said. "I didn't mean to, Harlen, honest." He said. I was fetching some firewood, and refilling the tub prior to going home for the night." He explained in a rush of words. "I go out the door to get the last few bits of wood, and there's Miss Hyandai, starkers!" His eyes widened again at the vivid memory. "I tried to just go about my business, but then she ups and bends double right there, showing me all her delicate bits."

His face drifted back toward that blissful shock again, and Harlen was certain he had lost him. "Miss Hyandai does tend to wear fewer clothes than you or I, Trevir, so please to be keeping it between us." He instructed. "I doubt, very seriously, that this will be the last time you see her in her birthday suit. I ask that you maintain your head about you, though. She is a lady and her lacking clothes does not change that. You will refrain from gawking next time. Else, I may have to find a new boy."

"Please, no, sir." He said, the fear of being terminated shocking him out of his reverie. "I'll not stare again." He added. "I'll even try to avert my eyes, sir." His face was panicked.

Harlen relented. "I believe you, young Trevir." Harlen said. He went into the tannery room and came back out with a small bottle with a cork in the top. "Now, take this oil to Miss Hyandai and tell her to rub it into the leather of her clothes when she is done washing them, to keep the leather supple." He said, deciding to let the lad prove his professionalism.

He watched from the doorway as Trevir tried to navigate the short way from the back door to the wash basin, where Hyandai was nearly done with her scrubbing, with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. This almost caused Harlen to collapse in a fit of laughter as she turned on the child and then smiled widely. She took the bottle from him and then kissed him on the cheek again, while his eyes remained painfully squeezed shut. He turned and opened them, and ran back for the house. He slammed the door behind himself and said. "I didn't so much as look at her, sir!" In a rush of fast syllables. "I really, honestly didn't."

Harlen was wiping tears from his eyes as he tried to stifle his laughter. "I know, son, I saw you." He said. "Tell me, what did she say to you?" 




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 05



His face blushed a deep red. "She said that in about ten years, she'd see if her younger sister would come visit me and keep up a tradition in these parts." He smiled. "She said that good huntsmen who obey the ways of the wood are often rewarded with a elf-maid's company for a time." His eyes took on a dream-like state as his mind wandered far afield.

Harlen nodded. "It is so, I deem, else why would I have her company, hmm?" He said to the youth. "And old Tammer, my mentor, as well, in his youth." 

The boy's eyes grew wide. "You're serious?" He said, excitement suffusing his face. "If I become a hunter, and am a good man, I may attract a lovely maiden like Miss Hyandai?"

The hunter nodded. "As I say, how else do you explain her." He pointed to the rear of the house. "You can see she is far too beautiful to be attracted to my ugly face." He pointed to his own face. "Now run home for the night. And you can come late on the morrow."

The lad smiled and left. Harlen had no doubt he would be early tomorrow. He smiled as the innocent youth ran out the front door, and thought that he was just a little less innocent after this day, but there be no harm in so gentle of a removal of one or two layers of a youth's blinders.

A moment later Hyandai stepped in, holding her clothing in her hands and waving them in the air to dry them. "I think that young Trevir is a bit smitten with me." She said, smiling.

"I would imagine so, you are probably the first girl he has seen unclad, except perhaps his sister, who is all of six." Harlen said, chuckling. "I only hope you haven't spoiled the boy's expectations of women for the future." He said, eyeing Hyandai's flawless skin and lovely shape.

She tilted her head slightly. "Has it yours?" She asked, smiling slightly.

"For certain." He said, and embraced her, then kissed her. "I only have eyes for you, Hyandai." He said. "My sights are aimed very high now."

Her face adopted an expression of confusion. "Aspiring to me requires high sightedness? Why?" She asked.

Harlen stood quiet a moment, his demeanor thoughtful. "For you are a combination of all the things that people aspire to - wit, beauty, wisdom, loyalty, happiness, knowledge, and kindness." He said. "And more than that which I have no words sufficient to express." His eyes lightened and he said. "Because you can love."

She smiled at that. "You can love, Harlen, and I think just as well as I, else I have been feeling something rather than love from you."

He shook his head. "I am a hunter, not a philosopher, Hyandai." He said, touching her hair. "Please do not expect my words to be sufficient for your high values." His eyes fell, I cannot express how I feel for you, for it would involve expressing everything of me, and making words for them. You consume me, my mind, my heart, my body, and my soul." He fell to his knees.

She nodded seriously. "I see." She sat on the little walkway about the tub. "Are you certain that being consumed by a lover is a thing that is good?"

Harlen caressed her legs, pressing his head to her long thigh. "No. I am not certain. I simply know that it is so, and there isn't much I can do about it."

Hyandai petted his hair, and touched his rounded ear. "I cannot either, Harlen. Disbelieve me if you wish, but I am equally consumed with thoughts of you."

He looked up into her golden eyes, soft now with thought. "How, m'lady. How can a simple man, a common man, just a hunter, consume one as high as you?"

Then she giggled. "I am not so lofty, Harlen. I am simply an elven girl, barely an adult." She touched his ear, then traced her delicate finger along his jaw. "I will speak plainly in this. Harlen, I am not considered beautiful among my kind, did you know this? I am actually considered quite homely, my hair is thought to be too thick and my eyes too golden, the youths of my land desire silken haired girls with silvern eyes, such as my sister has." Her eyes focused into the distance. "Loskenaur was beautiful, far beyond me, and she is powerful, and skilled, and a joy to be around, if I weighed myself against her, I would be found wanting."

"I do not believe that." Harlen said, turning from her. "I don't think that you would be found wanting when measured against any rule."

She rose from her seat, and walked to him. She put her small hand on his shoulder and turned him back toward her. "Explain something for me, Harlen." She said, her face set. "If you think I am lovely against any compare, then why, after almost a week of traveling with Eleean, to whom I was betrothed and prepared to give myself freely, I was still a maiden when the orc took me?" She tilted her head to the side. "Do you find me prudish and unwarm?"

Harlen shook his head. "No." He said. "You are far from unwarm."

"Did you not wonder why I took you to my side that very first night?" She asked, her head tilting the other direction. "Do you think yourself quite so alluring?"

He looked down. "No." He was losing this argument and it was one he greatly wished to not loose.

"How many elven girls do you think reach the age of fifty-nine with their maidenhood still within them?" She said, raising his face with her hand, forcing him to meet her golden orbs.

"I don't know." He said, but feared she knew.

Her eyes hardened to orbs of cast bronze. "We elven folk are not many, and girls my age, fewer still. I know each of them, and I know I was the only one." She said. "As youths, we elven folk have much time to explore their passions with one another, since we have a bit more than the eight years given humans, we have almost thirty." She smiled bitterly. "Rare, indeed, is the lass who manages to escape those years without having some lover or several to her bed." She turned and spun into the room, pirouetting prettily with her arms out and her head tilted back. "Yet, I, the beautiful and cold maiden, Hyandai, was so lovely and frigid that no youth approached me, for fear of having his heart frozen, I suppose." She laughed, and it was not the warm laughter Harlen loved, but a cold laugh, with years of bitterness and self-disgust in it. Her spinning ceased and she railed at him, bending at the waist and spitting the words. "No, Harlen. I am no beautiful maiden, I am a homely elven whore, who has been orc-fucked and has been throwing herself at a man, and will have to leave him before he discovers his own mistake in taking her, so she can avoid the look of disgust that he will give her when he does so."

He grabbed her arm, and pulled her to him. "You think you can ever disgust me?" He said. She tried to escape his grip, but the strength she admired in him thwarted her. "You think I will suddenly find you unappealing?" His strong hands pressed her back, making her short of breath. She grunted like a caught beast, and her arms flailed to be loosed. "No. Hyandai. I have earned the right to have my say with you." He said, turning and pinning her to the wall. He stepped back and held her there with his hands upon her shoulders. Her golden eyes were feral and seemed almost go glow with a red inner light. "Were you a homely human lass, who had shown the bravery and loyalty you have. Still, I would covet you." He looked down at her. "You think yourself a whore for desiring me?" He yelled. "Are the girls who have taken me to their beds whores as well? They've not been many, but I promise you, they were no mere whores, they were good women, and worthy of my affection and I of theirs." He let her go, and she slumped against the wall, ugly blue marks showing where his hands had been. "And you are, as well, perhaps moreso."

She was crying now, her head hanging down and tears falling to the floor. "I do not mean to insult you or girls you have known."

He turned again. "But you have." Harlen said. "You have called my own judgement into doubt, charged with the heinous effrontery of desiring you." He took her hand. "You hold being orc-raped against yourself?" He said. "That is most unfair, blame me instead, for my inability to protect you from the orcs, as was my duty at that point. Hate me for being too unskilled to defeat them, and detest me for not escaping the bonds quickly enough to keep him from opening you."

She shook her head. "They were matters beyond your control." She said.

"As they were to you." He pointed. "No, Hyandai, I refuse to accept you as anything less than the wonderful and kind, and, yes, beautiful lady that you are." He pressed against her again, and kissed her, roughly and with much passion. "You will not hide behind a wall of words." Harlen said, kissing her neck and shoulder. "I will have you, you have promised that." He said. "Unless you wish to break your word."

She put her hand on the back of his head and entwined her fingers into his hair. "No, I have no plans of breaking any promise to you." She smiled to him. "I truly wish you to be my first lover."

He still had some anger in his eyes. "Are you just settling for the human, because he will have you, or do you desire me?"

She kissed his neck. "I desire you." She said.

"I am not just some sufficient standby?" He asked. 

Her eyes softened. "No. I desire you, Harlen of Morrovale. For being my hero, for being handsome, and for being good to me."

"Then you would have me to you?" He said, then took her flesh between his teeth, causing her to gasp and then moan as he let it slip loose, lightly marked by his sharp canines.

She moved her hands down his chest and over his stomach, then around to his rump, then pulled his pelvis into hers. "I would have you to me, fullwilling, and with gladness throughout my body." She said, grinding her pelvis against his. The lust in her golden eyes was flaring up. "I would have you to me now." She said. "I deem I am recovered enough, were you to be gentle." She said, her voice lower now, and her eyes full of promise.

Harlen stooped and lifted her. He carried her from the bathing room and up the stairs to his bed. He laid her gently upon it. She sat up and watched him remove his boots. "You are certain of this, Hyandai?" He asked.

She nodded, smiling, and her eyes were beginning to take on a deeper hue, almost the bronze color they had when she had been angry. "I am certain. Though it may injure me a little. I judge that the worth shall far outweigh the cost."

She knelt upon the bed, and helped him remove his shirt, then unfastened his belt. She slid off the bed and pulled down his trousers. As she came back up from the floor, she started to lean toward his manhood with her face. Harlen restrained her. "No, my angel, none of that." He gave her his uneven smile. "I would have the energy to withstand my pleasure for a few moments longer, if you will."

She smiled and let him draw her up to her feet. His manhood was rising as he pressed her back to the bed, and she fell upon the covers. He brought his knees up between her long, shapely legs and then used his hands on her waist to lift her from his crouch and move her to the middle of the large, soft bed. Then he moved forward and lowered his head. 

She watched in fascination as he kissed her stomach, then began kissing his way lower, down to her mound, then over her tiny clitoris. She gasped, and her back arched as he dragged his tongue over the tiny button. He moved lower still, tickling her swelling labia, then sliding his tongue into her. The cinnamon taste he had from her skin was stronger now, and he lapped at it hungrily. Her body twitched slightly at the touch, and she began to draw air in short gasps. He drove his tongue as deeply into her as he could manage, spreading it to its full width as he did so. She let out a loud groan, and grabbed his hair with both hands, lifting her head and shoulders from the bed. He let his hair take the weight of her upper body, and his mouth and tongue drove a little deeper into her. He moved up a little, and began sucking and licking over the soft hood her clitoris wore, pushing it back then gently taking the nub between his lips.

Hyandai screamed at that touch, and her fingernails became talons in his hair, he felt them break skin, but only slightly, as she pulled his hair. Elven words were flowing from her, almost a litany. She gave out with a shuddering exhalation, then sucked air in with a great gasp. Her heels drove into his back, pushing him down harder against her mound, and he began suckling on her clitoris in earnest.

She started to tense her legs, holding him down and her pelvis began to move up and down, dragging his teeth across her hooded button and the folds of her labia. She was grunting softly now, almost like an animal, Harlen noted. Then she started whimpering, as her climax built within her. He had never made a woman come this way, but he decided that he would try this time. Her movements became smaller, quicker, and tenser. Then, suddenly, she let forth a loud scream. An elven word came out with it and Harlen heard his name after it. She then relaxed completely, her hands falling from his head, and her legs back to the bed. She let her shoulders and head fall back onto the covers and lay there gasping for air, her entire body was hot, he felt, and was richly colored a rosy hue, that was slowly fading. He also noted the smell of cinnamon strongly in the air, and a sheen of fine sweat on her flawless skin.

He kissed up her belly to her breasts, watching her writhe and twist as he licked and kissed each nipple, then moved on to her breasts. She finally picked her arms back up, and put them around his neck. When she gazed up at him, he saw her eyes were green, like a patina had grown on the bronze that had been there before. The green was vibrant, like a wood after a spring rain. He watched her eyes for a long moment, as they slowly lost their green shade, and faded, very slowly, back to golden. "Your eyes turn green when you have pleasure?" He asked.

She smiled up at him. "Did they?" She asked in return. "I had heard some of my folk do that, I did not know if I was one." She giggled. "It is part of why I love your blue eyes, Harlen." She said, putting her hands on either side of his head. "Blue is the color elves with silver eyes turn if they have such a reaction."

Harlen chuckled. "So, I look as if I always have just had great pleasure?" He said.

Nodding, she said. "You do." She turned a bit away and her face turned a deeper rose. "I imagine myself making them so."

He bent down and kissed her, feeling her small mouth with his tongue, and tasting her. "If I could do such a thing. Just looking at you would make my eyes stay blue." He said. She moaned as he laid his weight on her, and she sighed in contentment when he rested there, his manhood pressed firmly to her body between them.

Her eyes now only had a slight greenish tinge to them. "How long do they stay that way?" Harlen asked.

"I have heard many differing tales." She said, wiggling under his bulk. "But they can stay edged with the changed color for several days."

Harlen smiled. "Then, if all goes well, you will always have green-edged golden eyes while we are together."

She grinned and kissed his chin. "Do you swear it?" She asked. "That I will always have cause to be colored." She said.

Harlen said. "I do." Then began to kiss her neck and chin, and nuzzle her sharply-pointed ears. "So long as we are together." He whispered. She clutched him to herself, and moved her legs over his back, enwrapping him.

She felt so tiny under him, Harlen feared he would hurt her, but she breathed easily, and seemed content to bear him. He reached down to check her wetness, and when he brought his hand up, he found a small amount of blood. "You're bleeding, my love." He said, and showed her.

She sighed in frustration. "Then my evil plans are thwarted." She said, rolling her eyes. "Will you forgive me for another day's loss? I fear to make matters even worse for us later."

Harlen smiled and nodded. "I would forgive you anything." He said, and slipped off of her.

She got a cloth from her bag. "I hate that the wounds do not seem to wish to cooperate with my goals." She said, dabbing at herself delicately. "I wish you did not see me like this, man of mine." She said, and slipped on her skirt. She positioned the loincloth to hold the small cloth in place. "It seems, somehow, too intimate, even for your welcome eyes."

Harlen nodded and looked away while she finished. Then said. "No one likes to be observed when they are unwell."

Another moment, and she said. "I am again clothed, much to my annoyance." She said. When Harlen looked, she was wearing her doeskin outfit, and looking quite chagrined. "I had hoped that I was mostly recovered." Then she smiled. "For, mark my words, when I do, you will be the one in need of time to recover."

Harlen smiled at her. "I look forward to you trying to exhaust me, but I think you will find me quite resilient."

She adopted a pose that harkened back to a fighting stance. "Think you so?" She said, her voice menacing. "Then I accept your challenge, human, and whosoever shall be victorious shall claim the spoils."

He stood from the bed and hugged her to him. "And what would the prize of such a contest be, elf, with me having already won?"

She shrugged. "I know not, but it will be worthy of the challenge. But you will loose, human, and be forced by shame to do my bidding."

"Then servitude of the fallen is the prize?" Harlen asked. "The victor then commands their will?"

She smiled. "So be it. For a time, anyway." She paused. "You best be ready at my beck and call once I have vanquished you."

"And you." Harlen said, kissing her shoulder. "Best make ready to provide some rather gracious service, with a smiling visage."

"Done, then." She said, giving a curt nod, and grabbing his hand in the manner of a merchant, to seal the deal.

Harlen took the hand, and shook it. "Done." He said. "You are in above your head, lass."

She looked up at him and said. "And you underestimate your foe because of your large size." She giggled. "Both of them."

He clad himself with the pants he had worn and they both went to the kitchen, suddenly hungry. Or as Hyandai called it, readying themselves for battle.

She enjoyed the fruit that Trevir had acquired, several of which she had never eaten before. "Orange." She said, looking at it. "Somehow, that seems a shallow name for this fruit." She began peeling it, using her sharp little nails like ten scythes, to flay the skin off in but a moment's work, and not touching the pulp within. "One might as well call a plum a 'purple' or a apple a 'red.'"

He shrugged. "I don't choose their names, my love." He said "I merely told you what it was called.

She bit into the pulpy body of the orange, and then her eyes widened as its tart taste hit her. "By the spirits." She said after swallowing. "It could be called firefruit, or some such. It is so acidic as to burn the eyes if it were to get to them." She took another large bite. "But it is good." He mumbled around that mouthfull.

Harlen picked up a small yellow lemon from the fruit she had set on a platter before her. "Do you know this fruit?" He said, eyebrows raised.

"No. It is not one familiar to me." She said, eyeing it. "But I am sure it is called a 'yellow.'" She said, rolling her eyes.

Harlen chuckled. "It is a lemon, you should try it next." Harlen said, and peeled it helpfully for her. Setting the small body of it on the platter for her.

She finished the orange, and was looking at its seeds. "I wonder if these would grow in my lands?" She said. "Whence do they come?"

Harlen said. "They're brought in by ship from the south." He looked at the other orange in the bowl. "They only grow where it never freezes, so I am told."

She looked saddened. "Our introversion is costing us dearly in knowledge of the world about us." Then she brightened. "But now, the lemon." She said, and snatched up the peeled fruit.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 05



Harlen watched expectantly as she took a large bite of it, and tore it loose. A half-second later he was laughing as he eyes went wide and her lips drew into a tight pucker. "Eek." She said through her drawn tight mouth. "There be more sour here than is good for one." Her eyes grew accusatory. "You knew that this was such!" She said, holding out the remains of the tart little fruit. "Sabateur!" she accused. "You wish to make me pucker to filch a kiss from me." Her smile was rather curtailed by the persistent pucker she had.

"Filch a kiss?" Harlen said, placing his hand over his heart innocently. "You already owe me one, from the second night, when you stole one from me as we lay." He looked at her. "You were the thief, I merely seek redress." He kissed her and tasted the tartness on her lips. "Plus interest." He said, and kissed her again. "High interest." He kissed her deeply as her mouth finally relaxed from the lemon induced tightening. 

She pulled away. "Usery!" She said, and kissed him quickly. "I will pay no more interest, you spendthrift." She said, and held the lemon between them as a talisman, to protect her. When he tried to move to kiss her again, she intercepted his lips with the fruit and rubbed it on his lips.

They both laughed for a while, and ate fruit. She eyed the remainder dubiously, fearing he was planting another surprise for her. She stuck to fruit she recognized, and finally was left with two she did not. A small red fruit with tiny seeds covering its skin, and a long yellow fruit that made her giggle just to regard it.

"Strawberry." Harlen said, picking up the red fruit and holding it out to her. She bit the end off, then chewed. Hyandai smiled widely then nearly took his fingertips off getting the rest in one bite.

"Oooh. That is delicious." She said. "I could eat a bushel of those, and die plump and happy." She looked at the fruit bowl and smiled happily when she saw a half dozen more in it.

She finally looked down at the obscenely-shaped fruit. "I fear to ask that fruit's name." She said.

He looked at it, and picked it up, making sure to have it curve upward from his hand. "This fruit?" He said. Holding it before her suggestively.

"Yes." She said, avoiding looking at it directly. "I deem it has a quite obvious name that will make me blush."

Harlen peeled the fruit, pulling its skin off in long strips. The smell was nice, and subtle. "You think so, eh?" He asked. Then held the peeled fruit near her.

She sniffed the air. "It smells nice." She said. Then looked at it. "Yet it looks even more obscene now, with its little stem gone." Her giggles overtook her. "I hope that this manfruit is as tasty as it is attractive."

Harlen said. "Banana." And held it before her mouth.

She let her lips enwrap the fruit, like she had Harlen earlier that day, and she took a few inches into her. Then she smiled and glanced at him. Her teeth came together with a snap, severing the end. She started chewing with great show.

Harlen gasped and winced as she brought her sharp teeth down on the hapless fruit. And set her to giggling as she chewed. "Mmm. It is good, too." She looked thoughtful. "I am forced to wonder if any other such things may taste so if I chew them."

"Let me assure you, without question, that the banana has no peer on my body." Harlen said, with a bit of fear in his eyes.

She looked at his trousers. "You are certain?" She asked, finishing off the last of the banana.

"Like I am of few things." He replied, nodding assuredly.

She shrugged. "Oh, well, I suppose I can refrain from sampling." She said. And slipped off the stool.



The Solitary Arrow Ch. 06



Harlen excused himself to his work room so that, as he put it, he could try to keep an income, and left Hyandai in the common room. She went through her few belongings and cleaned up stuff as she found needed cleaning, which is not much. Restless, she went out into the front lawn. The sun was getting low in the sky and she figured that there is little left of that day. She walked to the road and watched people leaving town for outlying farmsteads and such. They, naturally, stared back. A few stopped and they chatted, light banter about it being wonderful to see an elf again, and how pretty she is, and such as that. The hour passed slowly, and eventually she tired of watching the people go by, as pleasant as it was. She walked the yard, looking at the various plants in the lush grasses, and at the two large willows that grew in front of the house. They were beautiful, and they comforted her in her disquiet.

She knew that soon she must leave these lands and return to her own, to face what she may. The feeling of impending doom had been growing in her heart for two days, and showed no sign of abating. She tried to sing to make herself feel better. Her voice lifted in lovely melody, filling the yard and the road before it with the ringing of her clear voice. It attracted a couple of passing youths, young, good-looking lads in their middle teens. They admired the sound and watched her as she moved through the yard. She smiled and waved to them, causing them to chuckle and blush. She enjoyed how the humans reacted to her, it's sweet, and very endearing. The song, however changed tone in the middle, and slowly descended into a rather alarming sound, a song of distress and fear. Once begun, it is unwise for an elf to end a song before it comes to its own close, and she did not. Songs follow their own evolution as they are sung, and they can sometimes turn on the singer, like a viper, and just as likely, they will uplift and go higher than the performer could have hoped. This was one of the former, she feared.

The yard seemed to darken as the syllables and words flowed forth from her. The sound was still pure, and clear, and beautiful, but the boys were now gone, disquieted by the general sensations they felt from the tones and melody. The sky felt darker, and the yard was crushingly small. A edge of panic set into her tones, and even the birds in the tree fled the sounds of this doom befalling them.

Harlen came out of the house, and looked around frantically. He ran up to her, and grabbed her arms, roughly, shaking her from the reverie in which she had fallen. "Hyandai, wake up!" He yelled, she could barely hear him over the discordant wail that filled the air.

She looked at him with terror in her eyes. "Harlen, what is that horrid noise?" She asked, and realized it was gone as soon as she started to speak. It had been her own voice that was causing the leaves to fall from the willows and the grass to wilt around her. The darkness left her and the light of late afternoon once again pierced the yard.

"What were you doing?" He asked, looking with intense worry into her face.

She looked back up at him, her golden eyes flashing. "I do not know. I was just singing, and that came upon me." Tears were welling in her lovely eyes, and starting to trail down her cheeks. "I am very afraid, Harlen." She whispered to him.

"I am too, my love." He replied, and pulled her to him.

She went willingly enough, not resisting, but neither did she return the embrace. She instead looked over his shoulder, panic still causing her eyes to flicker this way and that, watching for some unseen menace.

"I am going to die." She whispered into his ear. "It was my own dirge I sang."

Harlen stepped back and looked at her. "What?" He asked. "How can you know this?" He demanded. "So far as I know, even the foresighted cannot accurately tell one's future regarding death."

She wept into her hands. "I know not how, or why, I simply know it was so." She looked at him through her fingers. "When an elf sings another's dirge it is joyous and glad." She said, her voice muffled by her hands. "But when one sings their own, it shows them their limits, and brings to mind that even the elves have but a few years upon the world. She smiled bitterly. "Few wish to know how unimportant they are, ultimately."

Harlen said. "I know how very important you are to me, even if I am unimportant." Taking her hands and pulling them to his lips and kissing the fingertips. "You are important, and for more reason than just my opinion."

She smiled. "I am, in my own limited space on the world." She said. "But against the backdrop of time, I am just a speck of sand, we all are."

Harlen nodded. "I suppose that is true." He said, then grinned. "But nothing says two grains can't enjoy themselves when they wash up and sit on a sunny bank in the summer."

She giggled at that. "Your grasp of the banal is staggering." She said, and kissed him on the lips. "You make light of my woes, and make them lighter by doing so." She looked up at the sky. "I will not yet despair for myself or my clan."

"What is all this about your clan." Harlen asked. "Why is it your responsibility to do whatever it is you're doing for them?"

She regarded him a long moment, then said. "There is no reason to not tell you, it is not a secret. My clan has lost something, a weapon of great power and virtue." She explained. "The war between the Windy Isles and Ghantian City States has greatly reduced our warriors, and we have great need of defenders." She sighed and looked at the willows. Each clan provides for their own defenders and to the king during time of war. Many died on the Isles. The Ehladrel I seek to recover for my clan was stolen many years ago, and we only recently got word of its possible whereabouts. We need that weapon, if I can reclaim it, then it will help the wielder to train others, and we can rebuild our warrior caste." She shrugged. "We will do so, over great time, anyway, but we fear we may not have such time. Rumors have come from the Abian Empire having designs upon the now reduced Windy Islanders."

"Aren't the Windy Islanders men? How is it you concern yourselves so much in their welfare?" Harlen asked.

She looked at him. "The men of the Windy Isles are our allies, and we have had a hand in making their culture as it stands now. We are also responsible for them being as little militarily as they are." She sight again. "We have to help them defend themselves as they have weak defenses by our hand. So," she was concluding, "we must be strong for them, until we find a way to make them stronger."

"What about the Starre Island elves?" Harlen asked. "I have heard they will not help men, but you're elves."

"Who are helping men. They have already made clear they will not assist us in our projects concerning the Windy Isles, which they see as an experiment doomed to fail." She said automatically, as if it were well entrenched rote.

Harlen thought a long moment. "Since the seer saw you coming to regain your clan's heirloom in the company of a betrothed man, they arranged for your betrothal?" He said. "It seems somewhat cold to me."

"Yes." She admitted. "They felt that I should try with Eleean, who sought to become the wielder of that weapon. He was distant within the clan and our betrothal was sanctified by the priests of our land." She looked at him again, her eyes tearing. "But we never even reached the mountains where the thief of our Ehladrel lay."

"What was Eleean's profession before you set out on this misadventure?" Harlen asked.

She smiled a thin, sour smile. "He was a sculptor." She replied.

"And you, my love?" He asked, looking rather dazed.

She squared her shoulders yet her head drooped slightly. "I am a scribe." She said, giving him another wry smile. "My clan sent forth a sculptor and a scribe to recover an heirloom from an enemy known to be dangerous." She met his eyes. "We were that desperate. And Eleean and I volunteered when the call was made, no warriors could be spared."

"You were frightened?" Harlen ventured, already pretty certain of the answer.

She smiled at him. "Terrified." She said, and looked down at her hands. "I had never wielded my hyandai in contest before, and within three days, it was bloodied, and my bow sang deadly notes." She looked up at him. "I have never taken life before, Harlen, not the life of a being who could think, even the foul orcs think, and I had to kill them."

Harlen nodded. "I know, it is ever so for people who are kind and decent." He said. "They try not to become what they must kill out of necessity while preventing that evil from taking their own life."

She stood up and took his hands. "You have killed before, though, I saw that on the first evening with the orcs. You had a look." She said, looking into his eyes. "There was a resignation in them, of having a distasteful thing to do that simply must be done."

He nodded. "I had killed before that day." He said. "I killed a man who tried to kill me."

"Then it was self defense." She said, nodding.

"No." Harlen said. "It was vengeance." He looked from her eyes. "You've seen my scars on my back, I am sure." He said.

"Of course." She answered. "They are unsubtle."

He nodded. "Yeah. Well, those were given me by the sheriff of this land at the order of the duke, for the crime of vigilantism." He said. "I hunted the man down, the same fellow who showed me that cave, for trying to kill me and steal my pelts." His face looked distant. "I killed him right in front of his home, with his wife, and two children watching."

Hyandai gasped. "It must have been horrible."

Harlen chuckled. "I suppose, for them, it was." He looked at her. "He had been a terrible man to them, and she was not overly tearful at his passing." He said. "But he was their breadwinner, and without his hands to work, they had a bad winter." His eyes filled with tears. "One of the children, the younger, died and the widow was reduced to whoring herself to shepherds and soldiers for firewood and food." He finally let the tears fall. "Every month, I send a third of my money I have earned to them, not that it is sufficient, but I send it anyway." He now sat upon the bench and put his head into his hands. "No matter the amount, I will never get his blood off me, and I will never quit seeing that small girl, dying in a cold room, or the widow upon her knees servicing drunken soldiers in alleys for copper pennies."

She just stared at him. "That is much guilt to bear for doing only what would have happened if he had been charged, I deem."

Harlen nodded. "So I was told by the duke's lash." He said. "I was not charged with murder, as he was a criminal, and none contested that he would have been hanged for his crimes." He looked up with his blue eyes wet with tears. "It was that I did it without going through the trials and proper ways, and letters of the law." He said. "My crime was vigilantism for thinking myself as high as the law, and as wise." He pointed at his back. "These," He said, "are not my punishment, they were but a reminder. My punishment is seeing those children as I sleep, and passing the widow when I go to Winlow's Crossing, and seeing the gravestones in the cemetery there." He sneered at himself. "My punishment is living with what I had done to them, not to him."

"But it was not your doing, solely." She said, trying to defend him from himself.

"Please, spare me the justification and the explanations." He said. "I have heard them before, many times." He looked at her with haunted eyes. "The widow is still sucking shepherds, the child is still dead, and the man, who had been a friend, still molders in a shallow grave."

"I even tried to marry her, to bring her here, and take the family on as charge." He said, throwing his arms out expansively. "And she accepted, saying that one man is much like another to her." He laughed bitterly at that. "But the duke forbade it, saying that I had committed a most heinous crime, and not being able to fix all the woes I had inflicted was part of the punishment."

She gasped. "A stern punishment, I think." She said. "And most unkind."

"Perhaps." Harlen said, shrugging. "But it is what it is." He looked around. "I get along fine, I suppose, considering." He looked back at Hyandai. "But I still see them on the ocassion." He looked deeper into her eyes. "You know what bothers me most?" Hyandai shook her head. "She forgave me. Can you imagine that? The widow forgave me." He laughed again, and the laughter was frightening to her.

She looked at him with those golden eyes. "Maybe you should forgive yourself. You were young, and brash, and wronged." She said. "Maybe you did go too far, in killing the louse, a scoundrel who would backstab a friend. But you did not intend to hurt the family."

"Whatever my intent, it is what happened." He said. "But I go on." He stood and took her hand, not terribly gently. "Let us retire to the common room."

As they entered the room, his face changed, as if he left his woes at the door. She worried that he could shift his visage and apparently his mood so handily. She wondered what else lie buried under that idle smile. As they sat upon the long padded bench he asked. "What exactly did your seer say?"

She looked at him a long moment. "She said. 'The Hyandai and the Arrow will gather the Ehladrel to them in the mountains east, their betrothal fresh on their lips and their love in their hearts. She is the Mother Not, and He is the Father Not. They will face down the evil and come to their gain, gathering forth the weapon that was lost.'"

Harlen looked at her. "That's it?" He asked.

She nodded. "Yes. It's not long, foretellings are often is short and cryptic like that." She smiled bitterly. "I suppose its why we do not rely upon it for more mundane tasks."

Harlen looked at her. "It's worse than cryptic." he said. "It's downright confusing." He thought a moment. "I can't make heads or tails of it. What is that business of mother not and father not?

"We assumed it meant they were childless, which Eleean and I were." She shrugged.

"I don't think foretellings work that way. They don't point out the obvious." Harlen said. "If it was in there, and the seer saw it, then there was need for it." He thought a moment. "Also, from what you say, there was little actual love in either of your hearts for one another." He added

She giggled. "Like you and I?" She said, smiling and leaning into his waiting arms.

"Exactly like you and I." Harlen said, and embraced her warm, compact body. "We chose one another, not some fortune teller." He shrugged behind her, making her smile as he tickled her arms. "You can't go ramming the pegs into the foretelling, you mold the words around the pegs."

"What do you mean?" She said, looking up at him. "Mold it to the pegs?"

He looked down and kissed her forehead. "I mean, that you don't force it, you interpret it." He said. "It's not there to be kludged into a working reality, its there to be kludged around a reality that is."

"It's all a bit much for me." She said. "I am just a scribe, as I have said."

"Yes, and I think we might should retire for the day, perhaps the morrow will bring more enlightenment to us and to those words." He agreed, and took her hand and led her up the stairs.

She stared at him as he disrobed and watched with a smile as he crawled between the warm-looking blankets. She then took off her clothes and slipped in beside him. "There is too much room on this bed." She said, snuggling next to him. "I do not wish to be so far from you." She turned to face him, laying one leg over his.

Harlen breathed in deeply and said. "Nor do I want you that far, either." He said, sniffing her hair. He smiled at her gently. "You said you would do that thing for me anytime I wanted?" He asked.

She grinned. "Yes, do you wish it now?" She replied, beginning to push down the covers.

"No." He said, smiling wider. "I just wondered if you were willing."

She kissed his neck. "More than willing." She said, and her hand slowly crept down his belly.

He stopped her hand with his. "No." He said. "I beg leave tonight, I wish to be able to perform that much better on the morrow."

She made a mock pouting face, but relented. "Very well, if you will have naught but my maidenhood, then on the morrow."

"I would." He said, and gave her a very long kiss. "And I hope to have it for a while after."

She smiled. "Perhaps, my lover, perhaps."

---

Morning found them entwined with one another, and Harlen wakeful. He had his arms about her, and she about him, a first. He liked the feeling of her belly against his, and the soft breath that tickled his nose. They were pressed together quite firmly, he noted, as if they had just embraced. Her legs were intermixed with his, alternating, and he wondered how that came to pass. He could feel her moisture on one leg, and liked that. He could also feel her leg with the soft skin of his organ. Not that it remained soft for long, the thoughts he was having would see to that.

She must have felt him move, as her eyes flickered open and she looked at him, with golden regard. "Good morrow, my love." She said and kissed him with barely any movement needed. "This is a happy waking." She added, then paused and giggled. "And growing happier still, I feel." Her leg moved between his and rubbed softly against his growing manhood.

Harlen, however backed up a bit, and smiled down at her. "Not just yet." He said and climbed out of bed and put on his pants. "We have all day to take care of that bit." He grinned, and went out the door.

Hyandai blinked a few times, wondering what she might have missed, then got up and dressed before padding after him. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she turned toward the kitchen and ran full-on into Trevir. The two went to the floor with a thud and fell in a heap.

Trevir gasped and apologized profusely at the giggling Hyandai. "I'm so sorry, Miss Hyandai." He said, straightening her skirt, then realized what he was doing, and blushed nearly violet. However, his young roving eyes noted the stitches in her shapely thigh and the dry skin along the old wound. "Those should come out now, Miss, I'll tell Harlen."

Examining the mostly healed wound, she nodded. "Very well, I will go with you."

They went into Harlen's little workshop and after a short look at her thigh, Harlen said, "It is healed enough. Trevir, you need the practice, you remove them."

The lad gulped deeply and said. "But..."

"Nary a butt will I hear from you today." Harlen said, holding up a interrupting palm. A pair of tweezers materialized in his large hand and he held them out to Trevir. "Use these, and cut the cords with your good knife."

Nodding, Trevir took the tweezers and fetched his knife out of a small wardrobe against the far wall.

Hyandai sat upon one of the work tables, leaning back slightly and lifting her skirt to reveal the wound. Trevir dragged a stool over and sat between her shapely legs as they dangled over the edge. Leaning close, the lad's breath was irregular and his fingers trembled.

"Trevir, calm down, else you will cut me anew." Hyandai whispered to him.

The lad gritted his teeth and squinted one eye shut in intense concentration. The knife's point lowered to her skin and slit the first stitch, then the second. He continued down the long line of over a score of tiny knots. Finally, they were all cut and he sighed in relief as he sat the skinning knife down. Trevir then picked up the tweezers and gripped the first fine thread between the thin blades.

Gently, he pulled the first thread out and Hyandai gasped as a electric jangle of nerves shot through her thigh and to her groin.

Trevir looked up with concern lining his young face. "Are you okay, Miss Hyandai?" He asked soliticiously.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 06



A tiny smile formed on the elf's lips. "Yes, Trevir, continue." She said. Harlen turned about and arched an eyebrow at the tone her voice now adopted.

The lad yanked another stitch, then still another. Down the long line he worked, pulling each out quickly and without pain. Harlen watched with alert eyes as she started to perspire, and her breathing became irregular. He noted that her golden eyes were darkening again, and had become nearly bronze again. Swallowing visibly, she forced herself to stay still for the last few stitches, then gasped when the lad had yanked out the last of them.

Trevir beamed at his achievement, and smiled up at the pretty elven maiden sitting before him. "Thanks for trusting me." He said, a wide grin marking his face.

"It was a well-done service." Hyandai said. Trevir seemed to not notice the change in timbre of her voice, but Harlen recognized it right away. The huntsman smiled, supressing a chuckle. Rising from the work bench, she stood up and kissed Trevir's forehead. "A well done service, indeed." She complimented him again.

Harlen said. "Trevir, run and buy some meat for supper." And tossed the lad a silver coin. Trevir smiled and scampered out the door. As the front door of the house slammed shut, Hyandai tackled Harlen off of his stool, yanking at his belt before they hit the floor. She said not a single word as she yanked down his pants with one hand, pulling her loincloth free of her hem at nearly the same moment. Within seconds, Harlen found himself staring up at her spread womanhood over him, with her knees on either side of his head. He was rather stunned, but quite pleased at her chosen method of relieving the frustration that had built up from the nerve stimulation of the stitches.

Suddenly, he felt her warm mouth engulf the already swelling head of his cock, and her soft lips slid down the shaft in an eager consumption. Hyandai peered down at him and pulled his now stiff manhood from her mouth. "Do you seek an invitation?" She said, her eyes looked like molten bronze now, fluid and dangerous.

Harlen did not wait for one, and immediately raised his head and began lapping at her obviously wet crotch. His tongue slipped past the delicate folds of her labia and into the channel beyond. Gasping, Hyandai took his organ back into her mouth and began moving her lips over the shaft rapidly. Her tiny nub of a clitoris demanded stimulation and her hips moved until his tongue was forced over it. Flicking his tongue over her clit caused her to grunt and force her head down farther upon his thick cock. To his amazement, she climaxed in mere seconds. Apparently, she was far more excited than he first suspected. The slick juices of her vagina flooded down his cheeks and into his open mouth. A subtle cinnamon taste flavored it and he would have lapped eagerly for that alone, the benefit of her writhing and excited moans simply added to his just cause.

He silken lips slid over his shaft in ever faster motions. Soon, he could no longer contain himself, either, and he felt his climax rip through his nerves and out of his penis. The muscles of her throat worked furiously as he spent and she swallowed, both of them moaning in pleasure.

After a long moment of slowing down, her lips and his tongue, they finally broke contact. Hyandai rolled to her side from over him and giggled. "Sorry, beloved." She said. "But I had to do something."

"Never apologize for ravishing me." Harlen said, his lopsided grin stuck in place on his lips. "It is my job to provide for my guest's needs."

Harlen stood up and located his errant pants, then watched as Hyandai sought her loincloth and skirt, which had also come off during that little interlude.

He said. "Hyandai, you need to get dressed, my love. We need to go somewhere." He said, following her up the stairs, and watching her perfect small backside move side to side as she went up the stairs. 

"Very well." She said, and slipped on her half top and skirt. She also donned a loincloth, to make herself proper for public. Harlen put on a very nice looking blue tunic over his black trousers, and his knee boots. "This must indeed be an important trip." She said, eyeing the attractive hue of the tunic. "It matches your eyes, my love." She said, stepping up to him.

He gave her a quick kiss and gripped her shoulders. "It is pretty important." He helped her with her low boots, and they checked themselves in the mirror. Trevir came in the front door, carrying a few cuts of beef.

"Very good, Trevir, I will cook something with that tonight." She said. As the lad went into the kitchen, her face snapped with an epiphany. "Harlen, is Trevir the child..."

Harlen grimaced a little. "Yes." He said. "How do you think I send the money to her?"

She smiled gently. "I will say no more of it." She said. She wondered if anyone noticed that Trevir, unlike almost all apprentices, was well paid for his minor chores and services. Possibly, but no one seemed to want to call attention to it. "He is a good lad." She said.

Harlen nodded. "Yes, and I want to help him become a good man."

She hugged him fiercely from behind. "I am certain he will be." She said, then asked. "Where are we going?"

The hunter put on a fine bracer of silver and put a similar bracer on her wrist. She looked at it, it was lovely, and fairly heavy. "We're going to go see the first woman I loved." He said.

Hyandai looked a bit confused for a moment, then shrugged. She trusted this man, he would not do something to hurt her feelings, she was sure. "Ah." She said.



The Solitary Arrow Ch. 07



Harlen lead Hyandai out the door of his home and back into the road. She smiled, and was still curious as to what he was doing. They walked clear across town and even a short distance past the wall on the far side.

Most of the people they passed greeted them, though some simply stared at the sight of Hyandai. A pair of men stopped Harlen, and the three huntsmen had a short conversation. Hyandai liked the look of both of large, broad-shouldered men with kind faces. The thought went through her head that it would not have been terribly unfortunate to have crossed either of the other men in the wood. She smiled as the three men spoke and kept that thought to herself.

Hyandai looked at him as they walked toward the east gate from the square. "You seem to be well respected among the huntsmen." She commented.

A moment passed as Harlen appeared to think on that. "I suppose I am respected enough." He said. "I think, in general, all of us huntsmen treat each other well, though."

A wide smile broke across Hyandai's lovely face. "No." She said. "They defer to you, and you are highly thought of among them."

He stopped walking. "They may." Said Harlen. "But I wish to be no leader, nor even more than considered competent." Having said that, he started walking again. "Leaders usually disappoint people."

They had passed clear through Morrovale's walled section and were walking down another gravel road; similar to the one Harlen's own home was built upon. Somehow, it looked older. The trees were larger and more numerous, and the houses seemed both smaller and more grand.

"These homes have long stories to tell." Hyandai murmured, regarding the small, but well-built, and lovingly maintained buildings.

Harlen nodded. "This part of town, actually, is older than the walled section." He said. "The walled portion was razed to the ground only about forty years ago. This part was spared. Most people believe that Wynn's Copse was the cause."

"What is that?" Hyandai asked, her eyebrows rising.

Harlen smiled. "It's a very pretty and peaceful spot in this neighborhood." He replied. "Come, I'll show you." He held out a broad hand and she put hers into it. They walked down the road a bit farther then turned off onto a small footpath that wound between two homes, isolated by stonewalls from those homes' properties.

As they moved between the walls, the temperature dropped noticeably and the light overhead was blotted out by the overhanging trees, mighty elms that spread their limbs to cover great swaths of property.

They passed the rear edges of the two walls and found themselves on a path that wound downward sharply.

Hyandai had an oddly calm feeling overcome her and she started to hum, and could not figure out precisely why. 

After another three minutes, they had reached level ground again, and Hyandai could hear water splashing ahead. The dense trees parted, finally, and she took in the scene. 

The clearing was, perhaps, a hundred paces wide, and maybe twice that deep, with a small lake and a sheer rock cliff opposite. The trees formed a wall against the woods, and created what felt like a bowl of light. Thick, springy grasses covered the ground right up to the tree line.

It was a joy to behold for Hyandai, and made her think so much of Windir that she shed a few tears.

"It is lovely." Hyandai said, her voice quiet with respect for a place so obviously blessed.

Harlen nodded. "It is." He said.

She could feel overwhelming joy here, it seemed to seep up from the very ground and out of the water, and from the stones of the cliff face. "This is a place of great joy." She murmured, and then her mind cleared and she blushed. "And now, I believe, I know why."

Harlen regarded her with a raised eyebrow.

Hyandai smiled broadly up at him, and moved a step closer, turning to face Harlen directly. "This is a trysting place, is it not?" She asked.

Harlen shrugged. "I wouldn't know about such things." He said, unconvincing in his attempted deception.

She put her arms about his waist and drew herself close. "Well, I think such a holy place should be given its due respect." She said, standing on her toes and kissing his neck.

Harlen smiled down at her, nodding. "I think it would be best, so as to not anger the spirits."

She grinned. "They are strong here." She said, sliding her hand up one of his thighs to his groin and squeezing gently. "Very strong."

His eyes widened. "I see." Harlen said, taking hold of her waist and moving his hands back to her firm rump.

She sighed as he pulled her into him more tightly and felt his fingers fumbling with the ties that held her skirt. She took this as an invitation to unbuckle his pants and to help him drop them.

Even as her skirt slipped off her hips and onto the ground, his pants joined them. He kicked his boots off and the pants and boots piled up in a little heap nearby. She untied her shoulder straps as Harlen lifted his tunic off his own back. She was, as always, impressed with his massive chest and the muscles that covered it and his arms. She was also impressed with other things, like his thickly muscled legs and powerful waist.

For his part, Harlen admired what he saw in his petite lover; her slender frame with perfectly curved hips and long, straight legs. Her breasts shone fair and light in the sun, with their pink nipples, which poked outward firmly in the cool fall breeze. His eyes crept downward over her flat, toned stomach and her bald mound.

She could almost feel his gaze upon her private places. She leaned back against a small tree trunk, parting her legs naughtily. "Soon, lover, you will have all." She muttered, her eyes smoldering bronze.

Harlen moved to her and knelt down. She always marveled at his willingness to supplicate to her, and her response to it was the same as before. She loved knowing she could somewhat control the actions and thoughts of this massive, powerful, and competent man.

Taking hold of her slim thighs, Harlen leaned forward and began to lap at her opening. Hyandai moaned and leaned back harder against the tree, arching her pelvis forward.

Walking upon his knees, Harlen moved forward a bit, as well, almost lifting Hyandai with his chin as he pushed up into her slit. She gasped as he started to suck and flick her tiny clitoris.

Slim fingers twined into Harlen's long, brown hair and held his head in place against her rubbing groin. She moaned louder and louder as he settled into a steady, quick rhythm with his tongue and lips. 

With a cry that startled even herself, Hyandai climaxed, calling out Harlen's name to the wood and the world. She felt the shudders of pleasure shoot from her feet to her spine and up it to the back of her neck. Her back arched and she pushed against Harlen forcefully with her crotch.

His tongue and lips kept moving over her and into her. Hyandai finally had to push him back and down. 

"Enough, beloved." Hyandai said. "It is time for you to pay your respect to these glad spirits."

"Oh?" Harlen asked, licking his lips free of her cinnamon flavored juices. "And how am I to pay my respects?"

She smiled. "Lie down." Hyandai said.

Harlen did so and put his hands behind his neck, interlacing his fingers. He did like the feel of the sun beaming down upon his naked body. His eyes shut and he felt Hyandai's silky hair sliding over his stomach as she moved above him. 

Her slender hand gripped his erect cock at the root, and she stroked him as her lips kissed his thighs and the joint of his torso to his hip. She worked inexorably inward, and finally kissed her way up the thick shaft.

Warmth engulfed him and sent a thrill up his spine. Hyandai's soft lips were wrapped tightly about his wide organ and she began to move up and down upon it, her eyes closed and a moan being squeezed out every time she moved down the long shaft.

"The One's Blessing." Harlen said. "That is beyond marvelous."

Hyandai's hair still tickled his stomach, and even slid its silky, smoothness over his testicles and thighs. Her bobbing up and down became faster and more insistent.

Harlen felt his testicles draw up in preparation for his orgasm. Her fingers gripped the constricting eggs and squeezed them gently, rolling them around in their sack together.

Groaning through clenched teeth, he climaxed strongly, his seed pumping into her sucking mouth. A small part of his mind noticed that she drew him just barely within her mouth as he ejaculated, no longer deep down in her throat. He felt her tongue massaging the notch on the underside of his swollen cock head as his seed filled her and moved over that tongue.

Long after Harlen ceased squeezing out semen, Hyandai finally swallowed his seed down her throat, having held it a long while for him to finish giving it to her.

She smiled at him, still kneading his balls and stroking his shaft of his shrinking manhood. "And that," Hyandai said, "is why this is such a happy place."

There was a giggle in the distance; the sound of a young woman. Harlen looked in that direction and saw movement near the far edge of the clearing. "We were just watched." Harlen said, grinning down at Hyandai.

She grinned back. "I know." She replied. "They watched everything. In fact, he just talked her into letting him do to her what you did to me." Her grin widened. "And thus the offering is returned tenfold by the spirits." She said, almost ritualistically. Harlen doubted not that she was actually offering praise, not just joking or stating rote.

---

Freshly dressed and grinning like teenagers, Harlen and Hyandai proceeded down the gravel road with a bit more spring in their step than before.

They turned off the road and into a private walk that led up into an unfenced yard. It was another of the small, but elegant homes. Hyandai marveled and reminded herself once again to defend human towns from the often-callous words of the elves.

Harlen opened the door of the house and walked right in, much to Hyandai's surprise. She followed at his beckoning gesture. 

Inside the cottage was cool, and the small common room was filled with the collected bric-a-brac of a long human life. There were shelves everywhere with little items. Stones collected by Harlen, statuettes, small paintings of people both dead and alive, and many small pressed flowers under sheet glass.

However, the centerpiece of the room was a shelf that contained a half dozen items, items of rather mundane appearance, but was all of elven manufacture. 

As she took in the very homey little room, Harlen called out. "Gramma, you have company." 

There was a voice from the back of the house, it sounded as if it was moving closer. "Well, my good-for-nothing grandson has finally decided to stop playing in the woods and give his dear old gramma a visit, has he?" The voice was old, but strong and very energetic. "Or did you just need your socks darn . . .." She stopped speaking as she walked into the room, her eyes falling upon the slender, petite elven lass looking back at her with her hands behind her back demurely.

Hyandai regarded her. Gramma was an elderly woman, but not quite decrepit, she decided. She was only a bit taller than Hyandai herself, and quite slender, as well. Her hair was universally silver, with only a very few spots of darker black among the long strands. Hyandai smiled when she saw Harlen's deep blue eyes.

"Oh, my." Gramma said; her expression slightly stunned. "Aren't you a lovely lass?" She murmured. Her eyes were no longer in the now, however. Hyandai saw the faraway look of someone remembering something from many years ago. 

Harlen beamed at both the women in the room. "Gramma, this is Hyandai." He said. "Hyandai, this is my grandmother."

The elf-maiden smiled at her and said. "I am pleased to meet Harlen's grand dame." She said, and bowed low, almost touching her chest to her forward knee. Gracefully, she stood back up. "I have heard much of you and your good influence on him."

"I can tell he finally got around to doing something smart, for once." Gramma said, her smile widening.

Harlen shuffled his feet a little at those words, and Hyandai's heart swelled upon seeing her big man acting as a little boy, even for a moment.

"If you mean he was smart in courting me, then I must say that I must be even smarter, for desiring him to do so." Hyandai said. "Your grandson is a well-bred and wonderful man." She paused a moment. "And handsome, too." Hyandai added.

Gramma beamed at hearing her boy praised so boldly by a young woman. "I will lay claim to the first two." She said. "Though he probably got his looks from elsewhere."

Hyandai giggled. "You're too humble." She said. "I see your visage in the face of this man." She moved to Harlen's side and pressed against him.

Sitting in a large, padded chair, Gramma said. "You elves are as smooth-tongued as ever." She was smiling, though. "I've missed your people's fine way with words."

Both Harlen and Hyandai moved across the room to a large couch and sat upon it.

"I see you collect elven mementoes." Hyandai said after a small pause.

Gramma nodded. "Aye." She said. "Please, take a look at them. I would ask you what some of them might be."

Hyandai rose from the couch and moved to the shelf. "May I touch?" She asked, barely able to hold her hands back.

"Your people made them, my dear." Said his grandmother. "I would be honored if you were to examine them. They're not fragile."

She picked up the first item; a flute, carven of ornthal wood. It was engraved with many fine traceries and inlaid with silver. When Hyandai placed her lips to it, a haunting sound filled the room, each note so pure that one could almost touch it. She played a short tune on it then stopped. "It is wondrous. How came you by a master minstrel's flute?"

The old woman smiled mysteriously, and said. "I was much prettier than I am now, in my younger days, Hyandai. Enough so to turn even a master minstrel's head, if I took a notion."

Both the women giggled, and Harlen coughed uncomfortably. Gramma smacked him on the shoulder. "Make yourself useful boy, and split me some wood, I'm running low, let us women speak without man-ears to hear us."

Harlen made a totally fake sour face and skulked out the back door of the room, then there was the sound of another door followed by the sound of wood being split.

"You run a tight camp, um?" Hyandai asked the unspoken question.

"Call me Maggie, if you like, or Gramma, either, if you prefer, Hyandai." She said.

"Well, you run a tight camp, Lady Maggie." Hyandai said, grinning.

Maggie smiled. "Oh, a lady am I?" She said, patting her hair gently with one hand.

The elf said. "When an adult elf comes across a human who bests them in years, we tend to want to show some respect." She nodded to Maggie.

Maggie said. "Well, I wish it weren't so obvious, but, I would wager I do best you in that count." She chuckled.

She turned back to the shelf of elven artifacts, replacing the flute and picking up a silver chalice. "Do you know its purpose?" She asked Gramma.

"No, actually, it was found in the wilds many years back, and I bought it from a traveling merchant." The lady said, looking at the chalice. "It was so beautiful, I knew right off it was wrought by elven hands."

Hyandai said. "Indeed, it was." She looked at it closely. "It is a wedding cup, from whence a couple would drink wine to seal their marriage." She showed Gramma the engraving. "It was wrought some three thousand years ago, ere the fall of the Syrisian Empire, see there? Those are symbols used by the Syrisians that the elves of the day found comely."

"Oh, my. So ancient." The lady said, smiling.

Hyandai said. "Very much so. Some among my people would pay a dear ransom for that chalice, if they knew of it." She sat it back on the counter cautiously. "Even the elves do not live long enough to show little regard for the passing of three millennia.

She then turned to the third item, and the largest. It was a mask, carven of some white stone, and inset with fine symbols of blue stone. Hyandai asked. "Know you this item, then?" She pointed to the mask.

"I can't say I know much about them save the flute and the night-orb, on the right." Gramma said. "The others I simply desired for their beauty."

The elf-maid nodded. "And they are worthy on that regard alone, in mine eyes also." She looked at the mask. "That is a soul mask." She said. "When an elf dies but needs something done after that death, they have such crafted. The wearer is said to channel the spirit of the deceased and can thence finish their works." She did not touch it. "I know not how they work or if they do, but they are rare." She said. "I will not touch it, as touching one may be perilous to elvenkind, for you never know if the mission it was crafted for was completed." 

She looked at the second item from the right, a small box, of intricate design, and lovely display, wrought of silver with jet inset. It depicted men and elves trading goods with one another, and singing and dancing together. She laughed. "I'm afraid not all you have is precious." She said. "This is a thing made for trade with humans, a jewelry box, crafted for trade with the people of the Windy Isles. Such things still are made and traded to this day." 

Maggie did not look terribly disappointed. "Then I am happy just to know it, and still, it's lovely." She said.

Lastly was a black stone sitting on a ring of bronze with three little legs that held it off the counter top. The stone was deepest black and one might think they could fall into it, or at least reach inside it. "As you say, this is a night-orb", she said. And have you shared with your grandson what it's purpose is?" She asked, giving Gramma a sideways glance.

The elder lady said. "No, I haven't, since he's been a bachelor all his days. But perhaps I might should soon." She smiled at the elven lady and winked.

Hyandai picked up the orb and held it in her palm. "They are still used in my lands, and I am shocked to find this one outside of my lands, as they are so terribly useful and hard to craft now." The stone pulsed white a moment then settled to a pulsing red. Flashing with short quick alternations between flat black and luminous red. Her eyes widened quite a lot and she looked at Gramma. "Oh, dear." She said, trying to keep her face happy. "Perhaps I should speak to Harlen." She said, forcing a sheepish grin onto her lovely face.

The grand dame said. "I think perhaps you might." and took the stone from Hyandai's numb fingers. She put it back onto the mantle and said. "That stone has predicted many an unexpected visitor, and has, I deem, done so again?"

"Y...yes, Gramma, it probably has." The elf said.

Gramma led her into the kitchen where she gave her water from the hand pump, and Hyandai drank heartily of it, taking a second cup. They both looked out the window at Harlen's back, muscular and coated in sweat, cutting wood.

"There are worse fathers, you know?" Gramma said.

Hyandai winced. "Yes, I do." She said, and forced a smile when the Maggie looked on her.

"He's quite smitten by you, I deem." Said gramma.

The elf asked. "How can one be certain no longer than you saw the two of us together?"

"You're the first girl he's brought to my home," the lady said, beaming at her.

Hyandai giggled, though to her ears, it sounded strained.

"And you're smitten as well." Said Gramma.

"Is it so obvious?" Asked the elf.

The lady looked at her and smiled gently. "I was a girl once and I have looked at men that way. One gave me a flute."

Hyandai giggled again, more naturally this time. She did need to speak to Harlen, but it was not the glad tidings that Gramma seemed to hold in her thoughts.

"I will still my tongue on the night-orb matter, such news should be yours to tell." She said, and walked to the door, and put her hand on the pull-handle. "He will do the honorable thing, if you wish it. I know he will."




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 07



"I do as well, Gramma." Said Hyandai, her thoughts half a world away.

The older lady opened the door and said. "Harlen, I believe your lady friend is tiring of my old chatter, you two might be thinking of going home. I've plans, anyway."

Hyandai marveled at this, he had just done backbreaking work for an hour and was sweating profusely, but he smiled widely and ran to his gramma to give her a sweaty hug. "Very well, then, Gramma, I will see you next week then, though I doubt I will have a gift quite so grand to present to you."

Gramma judiciously avoided the scars on his back and hugged him, and handed him his shirt. "Your smiles are gift enough for an old woman, grandson of mine." She said.

Harlen took Hyandai's hand and walked around the house back to the small front lawn. She was quiet as they walked home noticeably so. "Is something wrong, my love?" He asked.

Tears started rolling from her eyes but she kept her face placid. "We will speak when we get to your home." She said, forcing back a sob. She wanted to fall into his arms and be comforted, but had to wait, such news needed no hearers.

They finally arrived at the house, and letting themselves in, Hyandai called out. "Trevir, are you here?" 

The boy appeared a moment later, smiling. "Yes, Miss Hyandai?" He asked, all but bowing to her. This deference caused Harlen to blink a few times, but he kept his mouth still.

"I need you to go home for tonight, young Trevir." Hyandai said bluntly. "Harlen and I have matters to discuss and wish privacy."

The lad looked a little hurt, but nodded and left quietly.

"What was that about?" The hunter asked as he closed the door quietly.

Hyandai collapsed into tears, and fell onto his chest. He put his arms about her and held her, and murmured to her, but not knowing the problem, could say little of meaning.

She finally stopped bawling long enough to look at him and say. "I bear a child." She said, and dissolved into more crying.

Harlen stopped a moment then his mind fully registered. "No." He said. "You...oh by the One." He said, and wept with her. "It's not fair." He said.

She sniffed and looked at him. "No, but it is so." She said. "The night-orb does not lie." She straightened up. "Which leaves me with no option but to go home, and soonest as maybe." She hardened her face. "I must have this, this THING torn from me, and I only know of elven arts that can do thus safely."

Harlen nodded. "Or a Sorceress." he said.

She turned and regarded him. "A Sorceress, here?" She asked.

"About a half day walk toward Norboro." He said. "She keeps to herself, but has been known to do favors for pay."

Hyandai nodded. "Sorceresses learned their arts from elves, they would know the way." She said, some hope gleaming in her golden eyes.

"So I've heard." Said Harlen. "But they charge dearly."

She looked down. "I have little to give." She said. "So, again, to home my path leads me."

"I have money." Harlen said. "And would gladly give of it for your benefit."

She shook her head. "The price may be high indeed." She said.

"I have it, or I deem I do, lest the price be outrageous." He said, and walked into his workroom. A few moments later he came out with a small chest, about a foot wide, built with heavy bands of iron around wooden boards. He opened it, and within were silver and even gold coins.

"How?" She said. "You are a hunter."

He smiled widely. "I am a very good hunter." He said. "I do not shy always from more dangerous beasts, and the bounty for the more dangerous ones can be high indeed." He closed the chest.

"I see." She said, somewhat stunned. Elves, in general, are not creatures of avarice, but they do know when something of value is showed them, and that was a lot of silver and not a small amount of gold.

"We leave on the morrow, then." He said, nodding.

She looked at him and cried again. "What is it now, my love?" He asked, almost perturbed.

"I cannot lie with you this night, Harlen, save as we have already." She said. "I would not have your seed fall in a unholy womb, cursed with a foul spawn." She said vehemently.

She still blamed herself, and hated herself for it, thought Harlen, but he simply held her and said. "I will wait till the end of my days, if you ask it of me, Hyandai. I only wish to be with you, not necessarily in you." He smiled. She giggled at that, as well.

"It seems the world wishes us to never consummate our feelings, my love." She sniffed. "It keeps putting obstacles in our path, and thwarts us every turn."

"Perhaps it is so." Harlen said. "But perhaps it is simply bad luck. Such does happen." He smiled and kissed her forehead. "I will, as always, be honored to hold you this night, and not expect anything of it but perhaps a kiss on the morn."

She grinned. "A kiss you shall have." She said. "And no few tonight, as well." She added, and kissed him soundly, and with passion, and for a long while.

They laid down and slept later, after making their lips sore with kisses. But it was wounds they wore happily.

---

The next morn, Hyandai awoke early, for her mind was unsettled. The doom she had felt was now roosting on her and she thought she could feel the unholy broodling in her belly. It burned her, or so she perceived. She looked down, and Harlen's absence was clear. She looked back and he was lying, facing away from her. "No more do I need." She said, slipping form the covers. "A damned host for foul offspring. I would seek to not hold me, either." She quickly dressed and went out of the room, her face sour with ill feelings.

Harlen slept on, oblivious to his misdeed. She padded down the stairs and caught sight of young Trevir, stacking wood by the oven in the kitchen. She padded in, startling him, and causing him to stammer. "G...good morrow, Miss Hyandai." He said. 

She brushed his arm in passing with her hair, and took some fruit from the bowl. She sat on the high stool, and looked at him. "Do you find me comely?" She asked.

"Well...of course, Miss Hyandai." He said. "You're the prettiest lady I've ever seen."

She nodded, smiling sweetly. Trevir thought there was something not quite right about her smile, but he could not place it. "Were I not Harlen's woman, and you were an older lad, Trevir, would you desire me?" She asked, sounding a bit too innocent.

He thought a moment. "Well, yes, I suppose I would." He said. "I mean, I desire you now, but know I cannot even think of having you, but that does not make the want go away."

She looked at him. "You are wise beyond your years, Trevir." She said. "...Knowing that you cannot have does not lessen the want."

Harlen came in as Trevir left the room with a bemused look on his young face. The huntsman was stretching and scratching his ribs. "Good morrow, beloved." He said, smiling. The smile evaporated, however, as he saw the rather haunted look in her eyes. "What bothers you, Hyandai? You seem deep in worry."

She looked at him a brief moment, then said. "We elves are fey folk. You ever wonder at that? Most other fey are creatures of element and spirit, yet we are natural and physical?" Said Hyandai. Harlen had never thought of it, but then again, he wasn't an elf. She did not wait for an answer, her eyes watching him closely. "Well, within us is such a creature, every one of us has one inside, a small creature of a basic element, or emotion, or idea, or what have you." She rambled for a moment. "We keep them in check with our will. When that will is gone, we will no longer contain our spirits or whatever you would like to call them. And they will take over our lives and all will have been for naught."

Harlen thought for a moment. "All elves have one of these fey spirits in them?"

Hyandai nodded. "Yes. We all have them. Some good, some bad, most are not concerned for good or bad, just their idea or element."

"And yours?" He asked. "What sort is yours?"

"Mine, if you could not tell, is lust." She said, laughing sourly. "The irony, hmm?" She further castigated herself.

Harlen looked at her intently. "What brought this about?" He asked.

"I think finding that I have received this spawn to my belly has come as a final blow to me, or nearly so." She said. "We should go and have it removed from me, before it can cause me to break completely." Then she stood up, slowly and looked about. "I must apologize to Trevir, I sorely tested his patience this morning."

"He will understand." Harlen said. "We should move quickly then. To the Sorceress?"

She nodded slowly and her face did not register the relief that Harlen thought should be there. "I am afraid the cure will be as bad as the curse." She said.

They quickly packed up and got dressed, and left the house. Harlen told Trevir to expect them just after sunset. And they were gone. Leaving the poor lad with many thoughts he did not want.

The road to Norboro was well used and hardened with many wheels over years. Travel was quick and without problem. A few times they had to step out of the way for a wagon going one way or the other, but the road had no sharp turns so there were no surprises. As the wagons trundled past, the drivers, and passengers, if any, would stare at Hyandai and some would wave. Her spirits rose as no other bouts of fey hit her, and she waved back, and smiled prettily, though she really did not feel the mood. She was long practiced at such facades and they were fairly easy to construct and harmless.

As they neared the cut-off to the Sorceress' home, Harlen said. "I don't know much about these Sorceresses, so I will let you do the talking, if you don't mind."

She nodded, looking ahead and seeing what might be a small house near a copse of trees. As they neared it, the house resolved into being part of the trees, among them, and intertwined with them. It was very elven, but subtly twisted away from elven. A dark feeling came from the home, and she shivered with cold she did not feel.

Harlen said. "You feel it too, then?"

Hyandai nodded. "Yes. It is not right. Sorceresses are odd creatures, and I dread actually meeting one."

They walked to the front gate enclosing a small yard. The gate was open, and the grasses of the yard high and thick. A large wolf sat on the porch, growling at them with glistening fangs. It's eyes were the color of night, and its fur the dun gray of old abandoned ships on the coast.

Soon, though a pretty voice rang out. "Who calls?" It said, through the door.

"Hyandai of Clan Yavanaur, and Harlen of Morrovale." Hyandai said, formally. "We seek audience to parley for services of your arts."

The door opened and the wolf ran off around the house. "Come." The voice said, it was pretty, but very cold. Beyond the door lay inky darkness.

They walked into the house, and the door closed behind them, sealing off the light. They were pitched into the blackness, and they both felt a stir of something moving nearby. Her hand sought out his and he held it tightly.

A dimness emerged in the black wall before them, then it grew into a candle light. A woman was holding a candle, indeed, and the candleholder. She was slight of build, petite, but well formed, with firm-looking breasts and long legs. Her hair was straight as arrow shafts and silky, and flowed like black water over her shoulders and down her back. Her face was elfin fair, slim and narrow, with large black eyes that glittered in the candlelight. She was beautiful. Harlen looked at Hyandai's pretty face, and thought there would be no comparison, until he looked at the dark woman before him. She was lovelier, by far, than even gracious Hyandai. Her beauty was transcendent and immeasurable. When she took step forward, she moved with a grace that made him watch each motion as if it were the only thing moving on the world.

"She's lovely." He said in a whisper to Hyandai.

His elven lady nodded and said. "She is, is she not."

"I am Sorcha, I am whom you seek." Each word she spoke carried a lingering echo, and rebounded around Harlen's head like a rubber ball in a closed room. She looked the two up and down.

"I am Hyandai." She said, looking at the Sorceress with wary eyes.

Harlen said. "And I am Harlen." he said, smiling at her. She smiled back, giving him a view of her face that made his heart miss a beat.

"And what would you ask of me?" She said, almost negligently as she gazed over Harlen again.

Hyandai swallowed, then said. "I have an unwanted child growing within." Tears again flowed down her cheeks.

Sorcha turned to Harlen. "The offspring of this fine specimen, no doubt?" She said, getting very close to the hunter. She smelled of cinnamon, just like Hyandai.

Hyandai coughed, then said. "No. Were it his child I would gladly keep it." She said, an edge of hostility in her voice. "And I wish that I could even say it may be his."

"Ah." The Sorceress said. "Say no more, there are tales enough that lead to this place, that I have already heard, yours would not be unique, nor interesting." She said dismissively. She turned again to the large human man. "Your tale, though would interest me greatly. Why would a man seek to help a woman with another man's seed already germinating in her belly?" She looked back at Hyandai askance. "Could you not find a woman not so recently used by another?"

Harlen clenched his fists and looked at the Sorceress. "It isn't like that. She was raped, and she got pregnant from it." He said through gritted teeth.

Sorcha fluttered her hand before her chest. "Oh, then I apologize, for she is above reproach then, especially if she was raped." She turned back to Hyandai. "Did you do folly that led to your rape?"

Hyandai nodded. "Yes, we returned to where we knew orcs were nearby just to check on a friend's condition."

The witch nodded. "But you knew he was dead, didn't you." She said, smiling all to gleefully. "You knew well."

The elf sighed. "Yes, I knew." looking at the floor.

"Tell him how you knew, knew so well." She said, now picking viciously. "He deserves the truth from you if he is willing to accept damaged goods over it."

She looked at Harlen, her eyes full of fear and apology. "I knew because his plait fell from my hair." She said, crying. "It fell from my hair before ever I met you Harlen." She sobbed. "I knew he was dead within minutes of my fleeing. When an elf plaits troth, they plait it truly, giving each other a swatch of their hair, and wearing it as their own. The ritual binds it to you." She cried harder. "Unless the other dies or stops caring."

Harlen looked at her. "You knew he was dead, yet we went back for him?" He gaped. "Why?"

She shook her head. "I had to know, I had to know it was his death that caused it to fall from me, not Eleean's giving up on me."

The Sorceress laughed coldly. "You see, young handsome Harlen, she cared more for Eleean than she said, I am sure, she was willing to risk your life just to know for sure he didn't quit liking her." She wiped a mock tear from her eye. "To feed her little vanity, so insecure as this homely elf waif is."

Harlen said. "Stop it." His voice raised in some anger. "Stop calling her names and leave her be." He shook his head. "I accepted the risk and didn't ask the reason, so I am not angered at her for that."

The witch nodded. "Okay, I see you don't want her hurt, that is admirable." She looked at the two of them a long moment. "I will do this thing you ask, but my price will be high."

The hunter said. "I have some silver and a little gold."

She said. "I know of your hidden wealth, Harlen of Morrovale." She said, laughing. "My powers have shown me what I need to see. I have the full sight of the elder race." She looked at Hyandai. "But that you did. Things would be different, yes?"

"Yes." The elf muttered. "Very much so." The look she gave the Sorceress was one of molten hate, and rage, and if it had carried weight, would have crushed the other woman into the ground.

The Sorceress smiled. "I name my price then. You Harlen, will come to my bed tonight, and we will take pleasure in each other's arms, while your little waif here is passing her ill-gotten offspring from her womb." She saw the horror on Harlen's face. "It is not open to negotiation." She said.

Harlen's mouth moved like a fish out of water for a moment, then he shut it.

"I will let you two speak alone for a bit." She said and left the candle and walked off into the darkness.

Harlen looked at Hyandai. "The price seems too high to me." He said.

She looked back at him, but did not meet his eyes. "It does not to me." She said. "You are not the one carrying an orc child in your belly." She shook her head. "Bed the witch, then come back to me." She smiled. "I know where your heart lies."

Harlen relented. "Very well." He said, frowning. "But it angers me to have to do so."

A voice in the darkness said. "Then ravish me with that anger, and let her heart do the lying." The witch reappeared and walked back to them. "Your pardon, but I couldn't stop listening, the little dramas in life are just too delicious to pass hearing." The witch said, with unconvincing sheepishness.

"Well, if you've not heard, we agree to your terms." Harlen said.

She cooed. "Oh, I've heard, very well." She turned to Hyandai. "Go wait over there, I know you can see the door."

Without a word or even looking back, Hyandai walked to the door and Harlen heard it slam. "Now, you, my stallion." The Sorceress said. "We will have a splendid night, don't fear." She reached out a delicate hand and caressed his face. He felt little sparks from those fingertips, and despite himself, he moved to strengthen the contact. "Not yet, Harlen." She said. "Soon enough you will know the bliss of my womanhood, and you may well forget that scrawny waif of an elf."

Harlen did not want to enrage the Sorceress any more than the anger she already seemed to possess, so he held his tongue. She picked up the candle, and they started walking toward another direction, and soon came to a black wooden door. She opened it and he found himself in a huge marble-walled room with a massive, soft-looking bed, a bathing pond, and a small waterfall. She sat him upon the bed and bade him drink from the salver she set before him on a small table.

He watched her leave and stood up. "What is she doing to my love?" He asked the air. The trickle of the water was soothing to the nerves, but Harlen did not want to be soothed, and the moist warm air made him lethargic, but he did not want to be lazy. He walked across the floor, then back. He picked up the bottle from the salver, it had a green fluid in it. He uncorked it and sniffed. Absinthe, he scented. It was brewed in the Eastern Realms, and was very expensive in the Western Realms, where the duchy was.

Hyandai found herself in a small room that looked remarkably like a public bath, had she ever seen one in a Ghantian city. The walls were tiled and slick, and there were rusty chains hanging from various hooks and loops on the walls and ceilings. A pair of iron manacles hung over an open pit in the center. There was blood and other unmentionable fluids dried about the edge of the hole. The hole was full of small pointed rods of metal that pointed inward and downward. What went down never came back up, she thought. The door was plated in steel, and very smooth, but still stained with old blood and other fluids that she did not even recognize. 

Then there was the table. On the table were four manacles, and it was oversized, large enough for a human woman to be chained down spread eagle, she knew this because there was a rough outline in paint on the table, showing where the body would lie. From between the outspread legs, a trough ran, and the trough was covered in filth most foul. She felt herself retch as she got close enough to look at it. Semi-solid chunks of meats and flesh were pasted to the side by various tacky fluids. Hyandai gasped and covered her mouth. This foul chamber had ended the lives of many children, both foul and fair, and Sorcha cared not which.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 07



The door clanged open and Sorcha stepped in, wearing a long gown of some slippery material, like eel skin. Behind her was a man, huge of build, with a massive belly and a long, swinging phallus. His eyes were covered with metal plates, with nails in four corners. His ears were sewn shut, and they had bled slightly at some point. He was clad only in a tight leather harness, that had little metal loops sewn to it, and there were various steel items fastened there. Tiny knives, long probes with wicked-looking hooks, and pincers that vaguely reminded her of the tweezers that Trevir had used on her leg. She stopped the man before he could walk off the lip and into the one-way pit. She smiled her beautiful smile at Hyandai. "One day I will let him fall in, it will serve him right." The man moaned forlornly as she pulled a large ring on his chest that caused some strings or ropes somewhere to squeeze his testicles with great show, pulling them apart an astounding distance.

Hyandai winced in sympathy for the wretch. "Trouble yourself not with this pitiable man." Sorcha said. "He tried to renege on a deal with me." She pointed to his eyes. " I made him the perfect woman's man, look at that tackle." She pointed to his massive tumescence. "But he complained that it didn't work as before and refused to pay me." She turned and said, "Your man will pay me, won't he?" She asked sweetly.

"I am sure he will, and you will be quite satisfied with him." Hyandai said, trying to keep her pride up somewhat.

The witch laughed, again that cold, heartless thing that only sounded like laughter. "I am sure he will perform admirably." She said. "After all, it's not like you've given him anything to compare me to, have you?" She smiled at her. "You really should have given him your hole that first night, then perhaps it would have been his worthy seed fattening your gut, and not some orc's." She paused for a half second. "Not that I mind orcs all that much, they can be quite, well, stimulating, no?"

"I would not know," the elf maid said. "I was not there for the event."

"Really? You jumped out of yourself for that?" She looked incredulous. "Just to avoid a bit of buggery?" The witch looked at her with eyes full of pity. "You really are a weak creature." She laughed again. "That fine man in there let you rape his mind to save you getting your body raped." She said, pointing out the door. "I spared him that bit of news." She looked askance at the girl. "I didn't tell him you had access of all his memories, should you want them." She smiled. "Though I can't promise to keep my tongue still, unless he keeps it busy with worthier pursuits."

Hyandai said. "I would never betray his secret knowledge by looking into it." And held her head up.

"Not yet you haven't." Sorcha said, and scoffed at her. "Wait until he's out too long on a hunt, or he comes home smelling of perfume. Will you be able to stay out then?" She nodded. "I think he really should know you have the easy access to his thoughts any time you want."

"Please do not tell him. I will do so." Hyandai said, breaking.

"Will you? Swear it!" The witch said, "Next you see your man, you tell him."

"Next time I see Harlen, will tell him that I can read his thoughts at will. I swear it." The elf said, tears in her eyes.

The Sorceress laughed. "This is such fun. She said. I will just gush forth with excitement as that scene unfolds." She grinned. "You think he will meet your eyes afterwards?"

"I do not know." Hyandai said, honestly.

Sorcha said. "Neither do I, young waif of mine, neither do I." Then said. "Now, strip and lie upon the table in the outline, lets get that little pustule from your cock socket." She indicated the filthy table with its gristly trough. "Else, poor Harlen may poke you there and get his fat rod ripped in twain, no?"



The Solitary Arrow Ch. 08



Hyandai did as Sorcha commanded. She disrobed and crawled up onto the table. She tried to avoid the stains and chunks of unidentifiable stuff, but was unable to do so completely. Sorcha's long, delicate fingers gripped the manacle next to her right arm, and clamped it over the elf's slim wrist. She then adjusted the chain it hung upon. She repeated this with the other arm, smiling sweetly as she worked. Her black hair caught the light that came from two lamps near the door, on either side. She then took one of the ankle manacles and locked it into place above her small foot, then the other. After adjusting, she was completely helpless and open to Sorcha's gaze.

The witch examined her pubic area, poking and touching with her clever, slender fingers. She slid two of them into the elf's womanhood, wiggling them around inside her, and causing Hyandai to move her hips to try to evade them. "Be still, elf." Said the sorceress. "Do that when a blade is within, and you'll never have to worry about pregnancy again."

"I will try." The elf said, looking down with angry eyes. Their gold had flattened to a hot bronze color.

Sorcha chose a long, very thin blade from the tools on the man's harness. She said. "You had better do more than try, my dear." She used two fingers to open her tiny labia apart, and then, with almost casual carelessness, slipped the blade into her. She felt it's sides as it moved into her private places. There was no pain, and she did not move. Sorcha pulled the blade out, and stabbed it into the fat man's arm, and left it. He groaned and twitched, but made no move to take it out. She then took one of the nastily barbed little hooks with a cutting blade attached, like evil scissors and, widening her fingers again, but farther this time, pushed the vile-looking device into Hyandai's vagina, and then up into her violated uterus. Hyandai felt pain this time, and bit her lip to avoid moving or crying out. Tears fell from her eyes and she let out a whimper.

"You're doing quite well, darling." The sorceress praised her uncharacteristically. "One would think you've done this before." She added, again, ensuring the pattern stayed established.

The scissors twitched inside her, and a sharp pain lanced through the her entire body, and she gasped. "He's an orc, and orcs fight for their miserable lives, even in the womb." The witch said, smiling. "Unlike some races, who let themselves be led by vague fortunes into danger and folley."

Through gritted teeth, Hyandai said. "I knew what I volunteered for, and it is a just cause."

"Oh?" Sorcha said, stopping for a moment. "And that is why you ran so quickly as your betrothed was cut down?" She asked. Then her voice grew loud and filled the tiny, horrid chamber. "The mighty scribe and her true sculptor, braving death and destruction to save the clan." She sneered. "You have proven your weakness, should you not now go home and lick your wounds?"

The elf winced at these remarks. She feared returning to her lands a failure, after they had placed such hope in her.

There was another, even sharper stab of pain, and Hyandai had to work hard not to try to move her pelvis from the probing fingers and the serrated hook. "There, I got a piece of him that time." She said, grinning. She started working around inside her womb again, here and there, tiny movements could be felt inside herself, and then a stab of pain, then more movements.

Hyandai dared not look down, she did not relish the idea of seeing her own blood. Sorcha pulled the hooked scissors out of her and again stabbed them into the man, this time in the leg. He groaned louder and almost fell, then regained his footing and stood.

Sorcha said. "Well, now we need to hang you up to clear him out." She unhooked the feet, and then the wrists. "You were lucky to have found him so early. Else I would have had to cut him up inside you and pulled out the bits, one at a time." Hyandai rubbed her wrists, surprised at the speed of the procedure.

"That is all there is of it?" She asked.

The witch turned and looked at her. "You want I should just lay you out for a while, inflicting random pain?" She smiled beautifully, her teeth flashing. "I can do that if you prefer. Knowing you, you might like it, at that."

As she lowered one of the manacles over the pit with a small winch, she said. "You have martyr's syndrome, that is one of your problems, among many others." She shrugged. "You want people to know you're a good person by showing them how much you'll hurt for them." She lowered the other manacle. "Stand up and hold up your arms." Hyanda quietly complied.

She clamped the iron circlets around her wrists. Then pulled in the tension out of the chains. "Ok, step off." The witch said, pointing over the hole.

Holding her breath, Hyandai stepped over the little sill and the manacles caught and bore her weight just before she reached the first of the inward-pointing spikes. The witch lifted her with the winches until she was hanging with her feet about four feet from the floor. The witch grabbed one ankle and clamped another manacle attached to the wall to it, then the other ankle followed. Her legs were spread painfully. "I will return later. There will be music soon, to soothe you." She said, and walked out, slamming the door with a dull clang.

Hyandai hung there, her wrists were already hurting, this was going to be a long wait, she knew. The man stood stock still near the table. His arm and leg bled somewhat, but seemed to not phase him. What had that woman done to him, other than the obvious, which was horrid enough, she supposed. She felt blood trickling down her thighs. A twisted bit of humor in her head said 'I wish I'd stop bleeding from there. For just a day or two.' There was a warm air rising from the pit, and it reeked of rotting meat and other foul odors. She looked down into the black maw. She knew she was not really seeing it, but she imagined flashes of glistening movement down there, and the stare of tiny eyes.

How many unborn children lay in that foul pit? She asked herself. "One more after today." She muttered to hear herself talk. Then she heard something. It sounded like talking. Then she realized, that small and tinny, she could hear Harlen's voice.

---

"I thought it would take longer." Harlen said. Watching Sorcha enter the room.

She waved negligently at the door. "Why would it? It was but a few days of growth, still pea-sized." She said.

---

That bitch had somehow made it where she was going to be forced to listen to Harlen making payment. She tried to not hear it, but in the absence of other sound, it was all there was to hear, save the labored breathing of the fat man.

---

Sorcha said. "It gives me more time to collect on my debt." She said, touching Harlen's arm with her fingers. They were cool and soft on his skin, and he felt the sharp nails she had, carefully trimmed and manicured to perfect little wedges. "I have all night with you, as per our agreement." She said as she moved her hand from his arm to his chin. "And I plan to make the very most of it."

She went to the salver and poured two drinks. "Please, drink." She said. "It may make it more bearable for you, poor man." She handed him a half full chalice of crystal-leaded glass. "I promise it is not poisoned." She took a sip of her own, and Harlen finally took one off of his. The taste exploded in his mouth, and almost made him cough. The witch turned from him and walked over to the water, slipping off her sandals as she stood by the side, then dipping her foot into the pool. "Come, bathe with me." She said. 

Harlen slugged back the drink, finishing it in one gulp, then sat on a low bench, and removed his boots. He had decided to get this over with, and if in water, so be it.

She watched him and her eyes flamed with interest. "No. Let me undress you." She crooned. "I will enjoy that more." She walked back to him and put her arms around him, pressing herself to his chest. Harlen took a deep breath, and refused to allow himself to enjoy the embrace. She looked up to him. "Hold me, for tonight, you are my man, please try to act as if you care."

Harlen muttered. "It will be but an act, but I will do as you order." He put his arms around her, and she nuzzled his chest with her head. She reached down and slowly ran her hands over his buttocks and then back up his back. Her hands were under his tunic now, and he could feel their soft, cool, soothing touch. She smiled at the small movement she felt in his pants. "You may not like me, but your manhood does." She said, looking up at him.

---

A single tear ran down Hyandai's cheek as she listened, her face one of absolute blankness. Harlen was trying so hard, she could tell, to stay loyal to her and perform the act he was required to, at the same time.

---

She lifted off his tunic, and he lifted his arms to let her do so. He looked down at her impassively. She touched his chest, running her fingers over his nipple, then down the crevasse between his pectoral muscles. She continued to his navel, then put both hands on his shoulders and said. "Kiss me, and make me believe you like it."

He grabbed her by her waist, and pressed his lips to hers. The lips parted and she felt his tongue slip between them. She sucked his tongue, and nibbled at it, and then gave him hers. His hands pressed on her back, and kneaded the small of it. His organ swelled inside his pants and she felt it with her stomach. She let out a small moan, and sighed as the kiss ended.

"Very convincing." She said, grinning at him. Then she stepped back and unfastened his belt buckle. His pants slipped down his legs to the floor, exposing his organ to her. "Nice, Harlen. It's better you relieve yourself with me first. You'd likely hurt that waif if you get carried away." She said, as if she were doing him a favor now.

She looked at him, taking a step back. "You are a very handsome man, my lover." She said. She then lowered the straps off her shoulders of her dress. It fell to the floor, revealing a long, sinuous, perfect body. Her breasts hung firmly on her chest, and drooping just enough to indicate that they had some mass to them, their nipples dark and pointed. Her pubic mound was shaven and smooth, and the lips of her labia tightly packed beneath it. Her arms and legs were long and strong looking, with tight muscles fine shape. Her body had the classic hourglass form, with wider hips and shoulders and a very narrow waist. He skin was flawless, and the color of fine white marble. She raised an eyebrow at him, as if waiting.

"You're very lovely, too." He said, there was little emotion in it, but she caught his eye moving over her and smiled anyway.

"Sweet of you to say, Harlen." She said, walking back toward him. She put her arms around him and he took her in his. She pressed his manhood against her belly and felt it twitch. Sorcha kissed his chest, then licked her way to one nipple, kissing then biting it gently, causing his breathing to change pitch slightly. Then she moved her hands to his thick hair and pulled him to her for a long kiss. She grabbed his pole with one hand while they kissed, and he moaned softly into her mouth. "I'm not that bad, Harlen." She said. "Really, I just want to please you." 

She slipped down his chest and took him into her mouth. He felt her warm lips engulf him. It contrasted with her cool hands, and the moisture was soothing. She took him down to her hand, and then started sucking, and moving her head back and forth. He looked down and she watched up at him. Her icy blue eyes were full of chill and promise. Her black, silky hair smoothly flowed as she moved her head, and it looked like a waterfall down her back on a moonlit night. The sound of the real waterfall behind him made the illusion perfect. He felt heat in his organ, and it spread throughout him, and he flushed pink from it. His eyes watered a little as he blinked. She let his pole slip from her mouth and smiled up at him. "You're impressive, another man would have spent already. Now, feed me." She started up again, drawing him down to the back of her mouth, and then pulling back, increasing the suction. He reached into the black water, and pressed on the back of her head, pushing her down onto his throbbing member. Her eyes smiled again as he started pushing back with his hips. He groaned as his orgasm shook him, and his knees bent before he could recover. She never slowed though, the semen dribbling from her mouth and down her throat as it simply happened. He felt the pleasure shoot through him, and hated it. She continued to suck and move her head, even when his hand fell away. His hips kept pushing, though, as if they had their own mind. 

Her other hand came up and massaged his testicles, kneading them gently and wrapping her cool fingers around them. The cock in her mouth twitched, and pulsed warmly, she slid her soft tongue over it. She took him from her mouth and kept massaging his shaft with her hand. "You are used to this, though, aren't you?" She said, teasing him. She stood up, still holding his swollen organ, then lead him to the bench. She turned away from him and moved her feet to almost three feet apart. She bent at the waist and placed her elbows on the bench, presenting herself to him. Her ass and pussy were perfect, and she was quite obviously aroused. Clear liquid dripped from her, and ran down her smooth legs.

"Sample something she's not given to you yet." She said, parting her labia with two fingers. "Take me fully, and give me what is, for this one night, mine." As he got behind her, she said. "And for this night, that is yours, as well, remember that."

He positioned himself at her opening, and her fingertips played over the head of his cock. "You need not be gentle, my lover, I am a real woman, take me as hard as you please." She crooned back to him, then laid her head onto the bench, nearly folding herself double.

He bent his knees and pushed the head into her. He felt it stretch to accommodate him, and he felt the moisture and heat engulf him. He slowly pushed inward, feeling inch after inch if himself becoming lost in her. She moaned, and pushed back a little, forcing him deeper. Then he plunged the whole of it into her. Slapping her rear with his pelvis and causing her to gasp with pleasure. He moaned as he felt her muscles at her entrance contract around him, and push him out slightly, he shoved back, seating himself firmly into her, and they both moaned at the same time. 

---

Tears flowed down Hyandai's face, hearing him pleasure this wicked creature, and then hearing him begin to let himself enjoy it, she was not a jealous woman, and jealousy was not what she felt. Had it been a kindly woman, or deserving, or decent, she would not really be angry at all. But Sorcha was a evil, vindictive thing, and was doing this only to hurt her, and it worked. She was upset that he, right now, was enjoying a pleasure of that woman, that she, herself, had not granted the man she loved.

---

He grunted with each thrust, getting more and more aggressive with each trust. "Yes. Harlen. give. me. your. anger." She said as his manhood slid into her and his legs and stomach and hips slammed into her rear and legs, forcing the air from her with each push and impact. He groaned as he felt another orgasm fill him, then pour out of him in a wave, shaking him to his feet and causing him to nearly fall over her back. His come poured into her, and she received it to her womb. She gasped when she felt it. "I feel your seed, my lover." She said. "Warm and slick, and most welcome." She reached back with one hand and petted his hair. "How pent up that was, my lover." She soothed. "You really needed that release. I could feel it." Sweat was running off his brow and from the tips of his bangs. It dripped onto her back, and beaded on her oiled skin into tiny mirrors. She slipped off of his still engorged cock. "You will have many chances tonight, Harlen of Morrovale to spill your seed deep into me. I will accept it from you, and let it fill me." She smiled and caressed his cheek with her still-cool fingers.

She started to step down into the water and beckoned to him. He followed and she swam back from him as she reached the depth of it. It came only to his lower chest, but he swam after her, and they met under the waterfall. They stood, the water pouring over them. She kissed him again, and giggled when he nuzzled her neck and kissed it. "Now, you're starting to play your part, my lover." She said. His breathing was faster now, and somewhat labored. She gasped as he lifted her in the water, and pinned her to the wall of the pool. "Already another time?" She asked, mock dismay in her eyes. "If you insist."

Harlen lifted his mouth from her neck. "I do." He said, and pushed into her. The water had pulled away much of her lubrication, but he forced it into her, and she gasped as it spread her open.

---

The elf, dangling from chains, not far away, cried openly and harshly, her face twisted in hate for the creature seducing her man, taking his seed, and stealing his kisses.

---

"Playing rough this time, are we?" She said, and drug her sharp fingernails through his scalp. He gasped and pulled his head back, exposing his neck to her. She dove in with her teeth and bit his throat, gently dragging her teeth along it. His groan this time was deeper, and more real. She exhaled a little with each thrust of his thick cock, and folded her legs around his waist. She was now moaning gently with each push into her, and she had forgotten his neck, instead simply holding him with her hands on his head and shoulder, and her feet pressed into his back, pulling him into her more forcefully.

He started grunting with each thrust and she knew he was about to have another climax. "Give me your come again." She said. "I will never tire of receiving it to me." She clamped down with the muscles of her vagina, and he came almost instantly after that, yelling into the air, and forcing himself deep into her with his last few thrusts, eliciting loud moans and yelps from her. She felt his organ twitching inside her again, and felt his seed spilling into her warmth. "So much." She said. Usually a man is fully spent after two times, and just comes dryly after." She smiled sweetly to him. "Your need must have been great, indeed." She kissed him, gently and lovingly, and he returned it. "Fear not, I will ensure to leave you drained enough you will be able to wait a very long time." Her muscles flexed and twitched around his still embedded cock, and pulled on it, and massaged it back to life, it came up again, much to Harlen's surprise.

She sighed as his manhood slowly refilled her. "You are a stallion!" She said excitedly. "And after three times already?" Her body writhed against him and she moaned as his organ regained full proportions. "You may dislike me, my lover, but your body seems to differ in opinion."

---

Hyandai's rage made her shake, and her sadness made her weak. She felt the blood on her legs drying and the small pieces of meat falling out of her with sickening slowness as her shameful position held her open to the yawning pit. She wished she could slip these shackles and fall into it with the unholy spawn that fell from her. She looked down as pieces of herself and her child fell down the hole, imagining distant wet noises of it hitting, and maybe of tiny twitching of little muscles trying to find security again.

---

She was really quite sensual, Harlen admitted to himself, and damn talented in some areas. He was enjoying it, and he hated that. Those muscles inside her and the coy cinnamon scent was driving him upward, and he was again ready to ride her again. "Not in the water this time." He said, and pulled her off his upright pole. He carried her to the bed and laid her upon it. She slid back and laid down. He crawled up onto her, and between her bent knees.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 08



"So much energy, Harlen, you will surely make your woman happy." She said, putting her arms around his waist. He aimed himself into her, and pushed in with one smooth stroke. Her wetness was amazing, and her muscles immediately began kneading him again.

He began to lay into her, and pounding in and pulling out fast. She moaned as he picked up tempo, and began to give her hard fast strokes. She arched up to him and put her long, perfect legs around him. "Ride me, mina'mael, and bring me to that high place." She said. He redoubled his efforts, slamming his pelvis into hers with enough force to make a loud slapping sound and move her up the bed an inch or two. After a minute of this she felt her own orgasm taking her, and filling her. She tensed her back, and gripped him hard with arms and legs. When she came, it was like a white fire burning through her, and she yelled with a passion, and released rage, and vented hatred. She groaned after, but kept her arms and legs around him, then started helping him again. "My lover." She said, lifting herself to kiss him as the thrust into her and she bounced up with each impact of his pelvis and piercing with his cock. "Your seed is mine again, I feel it coming to me." She said as his orgasm approached. "I happily greet it and I welcome it to my body. Give me what you have brought." 

He yelled when he came this time, too, losing his control and yelling "Sorcha!" As he exploded into her. His toes dug at the blankets, trying to gain purchase to push himself deeper into her, and his hands clamped onto her shoulders and forced her down onto him. He slowed after he spent into her a third time, and a fourth if you count the quick first time into her waiting mouth. So muscular and controlled was her entrance, that when he pulled forth, not a single drop of his seed came out, despite him having fed it three times to her. 

---

"Damn you, you bitch!" Screamed Hyandai at the blank walls, hearing her ugly voice bounce back at her made her flinch. She screamed incoherently, then yelled. "Get your talons off my man!" The man in the leather harness twitched a bit at that, and turned his head toward her. He tilted it slightly.

"You can hear me?" Hyandai yelled loudly.

He slowly nodded, as if trying to remember the motion after long neglect.

"That bitch is bedding my man." She yelled. She did not expect the doomed man before her to really care, but it was telling someone, and that felt a bit good. The man felt about himself and found the table. He felt the top of it and then found a somewhat clean spot on it with his fingers. He pulled the sharp narrow knife from his arm and dropped it on the floor. Blood dripped from the wound, and he dipped his finger in it. His hand found the spot again and he began to write, clumsily, and very poorly, but he was writing. She looked hard at the letters he spelled out. It said "OLD CRONE."

He waited a moment, then smeared his hand into the blood on his arm and blotted out the writing. He then knelt and felt around to find the knife, and with infinate patience slipped it back into the hole she had made in stabbing him with it.

Hyandai cried at the amazing will it must have taken to defy the Sorceress like he just had. She yelled. "Thank you." To him. He nodded. Then he held up one hand in the air, fingers upward and the other hand back and finger down, his mouth open as if singing. She saw his tongue was missing, to the root. A sound like someone being strangled emerged from him, with nothing to modulate it.

She looked at him a moment, then asked. "You want me to sing?" in a loud voice.

He nodded enthusiastically, and sounds came from his throat that sounded happy, somehow.

She smiled in pity for the wretch, and cried, too. "I will do so." She yelled.

---

Sorcha rubbed her swollen and tender labia with one hand while she closed her legs. She rolled to the side and said. "Lie by me a moment, and rest, my prize stallion." She said. He laid down, but found he was not tired. "You are a masterful lover, Harlen." She said, cooing over him, and smiling wide. Her hand ran down his chest and belly and fondled his, for the moment, flaccid manhood. "I've never been taken that many times in a row by one man." She said, her eyes far away. "Either you really, really needed that, or you find me more desirable than your mouth will admit." She said, teasing him. "Which is it?"

He thought for a moment. "I suppose the former." He said. "Though I admit that I find you more pleasurable than I would have thought." He smiled at her.

She beamed, and kissed him, long and deeply, giving him the measure of her tongue, then taking his. "I am glad to hear it." She said. "You attracted me from the start, with your muscles and your will, and your loyalty."

---

Hyandai tilted her head back and let forth her elven voice. She relaxed herself, as she did not even need to try to stand, she was not moving anyway. She increased her volume to accommodate her audience of one. The sound filled the chamber, even setting one of the chains to vibrating in harmonic sympathy. At first she had thought to sing a sad song, to suit her mood, but this man needed none of that, sadness he had aplenty. She instead sang a song of joy, the song elves often sang at a elder's two-hundredth birthday, or at a child's first. The Song of Your Day, it was called, and tried to recall all the joys that were common to all, and could be enjoyed by all. As she sang it, she wept, and she rejoiced in its beauty. The man looked rapt, staring directly at her, having found her face by the sound of her voice. His eyes were blind, but he knew where she hung. A smile was on his abused and tormented face, and he wept, she could see, tears ran from the corners of the plate where they were not totally secure, tears with blood.

She let this happy ballad take her, and she listened not to the sounds coming from another place, she only heard the words she uttered, and the joys of life she summoned from beyond those filth-stained walls. It struck her then what was being done wrong, not just by herself, but by all the elder race. She saw it clearly now, and she saw the answer. Her voice redoubled with that epiphany, and it reverberated through the room, and many of the chains now hummed along, providing a metallic counterpoint to her perfect pitch. 

---

Harlen kissed Sorcha again, passionately and willingly. She was beautiful, and definitely wanted him, without hesitation. He felt himself rise again, and he could almost hear lovely music in his ears as he did so. The sound was beautiful and, though terribly faint, filled his mind for a moment. It lasted only a minute or two, but it was lovely.

"That was pretty, how did you do that?" Harlen asked the witch.

She smiled at him. "Do what?" She asked.

"I thought I heard music, in my mind or very faintly." He replied, kissing her again.

She nodded. "I suppose it was just the time to hear music." She said, as she hugged herself to him, and looked worriedly at the door.

He said. "I've another type of music I wish to hear now, your sighs." Slid between her legs and she smiled.

"That tune, I'll play all night for you." She replied, opening herself to him. As he entered her with a loud moan on his lips, she pressed to his ear. "And for as long as you like after, if you wish to stay."

He grunted as he measured her depth, then said. "I cannot stay, but after I take the elf to her wood, I can return, perhaps." He said, smiling down at her.

The witch nodded. "That would be very kind of you, to see her safely home." She said. "You are a dear man." She kissed him, and pulled him into her. "Now, be kind, and dear, and bring me safely to my climax, my stallion." She said, and he obliged. 

---

Hyandai no longer wept, hanging in those chains. She was no longer wroth, either, at the witch or at her man. She simply bided her time. The fat man was still standing, but had applauded loudly her song, and smiled happily now. —

Through the night, and with Hyandai listening, they made love over and over. He took her in every way the two could imagine, and she accepted him into her. She cooed over him, and he was now fussing over her, complimenting her and caressing her. She kissed him and he kissed her. They took pleasure in each other and gave it to one another, as well. It was a very long night, and they did not sleep until the sun brightened the sky of morning.

---

Hyandai even fell asleep before that time, relaxed now in her heart. When the metal door opened, the witch stepped in. "Good morrow, elf." She said in a lofty, self-assured voice.

The elf, her eyes clear, and her mind sharp said, "Good morrow, Sorcha." She looked around. "I heard you enjoying my man." She smiled sweetly. "I have much to look forward to, I think."

The witch looked at her oddly. "Do you? My understanding is that you will be going home now." She said, giving her an icy stare. "And you will need a couple of days to mend from my tender ministrations, just enough time to ride home."

Tossing her hair back, Hyandai said. "This is probably true. But there is the future." She said, smilingly.

The witch released her ankles, and looked up at her. "Your night sounded eventful. I heard you serenading my man here." She said, poking the fat man. He started, as if he had been asleep on his feet.

Hyandai said. "I know not how eventful hanging in irons can be for one, but I did feel the urge to sing, if your man heard it, he acted like he was deaf." She regarded the man in leathers.

Sorcha started to crank down Hyandai and when she was just over the height of the rim, she reached out and pulled the elf to the edge, then hit a button. She fell to the floor as the chains instantly lost all tension and she fell forward onto the gore-covered tiles. The witch released the manacles and helped the elf to her feet. "Well, stand, I must make sure we got all the little devil out of you." She said. Hyandai opened her legs with pins and needles through them and her pained arms. Sorcha stuffed two fingers deep into her sore opening, and felt about, then pressed them deeper still. Hyandai gasped as she probed something very sensitive. "We got it all, or should I say them all." She said. "You're lucky, orcs don't come in singles." She said. "You had three of the brutes in you. It must have been one impressive specimen that tore your hole apart."

Hyandai ignored the comment, and smiled sweetly at the witch. "It is over now, and I will not dwell there any longer." She said, happily. "I thank you for your services, Sorcha." She bowed low.

Sorcha blinked a couple of times, then opened the door. "Dress and come out when you are ready." She said, and led the fat man out, pulling the cord that twisted and separated his sagging testicles.

The elf did as told, and quickly donned her clothes. She opened the door and stepped into a small room, bereft of furniture and sparingly lit. Harlen was standing in a outside doorway, the midday light pouring through it. He was speaking quietly to Sorcha. They both looked over at her and then spoke some more.

Hyandai walked toward them, with her head high, and a bright smile on her pretty face. "Good morrow, my love." she said to Harlen, who was somewhat bemused, but smiled back.

"Good morrow, Hyandai." He said. 

She giggled. "Sorcha told me you performed admirably last night, thank you." She said. "I know it was harder than giving up simple money."

Harlen blinked, then said. "Well, sure, it wasn't so bad, I guess." He looked at Sorcha who looked just as confused as he did.

She took his hand, and started out the door. "Ooh, I almost forgot something." She said, turning about. "Sorcha made me promise to tell you something." She grinned widely at Harlen. "A small thing really." She inhaled deeply. "I need to let you know, that since I was in your mind that once, I can reenter it any time I like." She said, giving him a hard look, then a hateful one at Sorcha.

"You can what?" He said, looking startled.

She nodded. "It does not really matter, though, because it sounds like you will be taking me home, then coming back here." She giggled. "So I will not be seeing you much, I guess."

Harlen looked stunned. "How did you..."

"Sorcha has a loose tongue," Hyandai said, smiling sweetly, "among other things." She cast a glance at the witch that could have frozen boiling oil. 

"You can read my mind?" He said, sounding worried.

She grinned. "Yes. Like NOW." She said, and leapt into his head. She forced herself into it, shoving his will aside like a sack of feathers. His will had been weakened by Sorcha somehow, she felt his soul and pushed it out toward those golden eyes, her eyes, elven eyes.

Harlen felt his mind pulse as she entered him. The there was the sensation of falling, and he saw nothing before him but a beautiful shade of gold, and he fell into it. Suddenly he was in Hyandai's body. He felt her pain in her womb, and her aching arms and legs. His heart broke for her, and what she had suffered while he took pleasure in Sorcha's soft body. He turned to look at Sorcha and nearly screamed. That was no beautiful girl, but a twisted woman, if woman it was. She was withered beyond years, and had a hateful visage of black eyes that glittered with malice.

She looked stunned, if he could read any expression on that inhuman face, with it's fangs and lidless eyes.

"You deceitful elven SLUT!" Screamed Sorcha. Lunging for her body. Hyandai, in Harlen's powerful body, but possessed of an elven quickness of thought, smashed a fist into the crone's chest, sending her reeling back into the room. Harlen, in Hyandai's body, pulled the door shut. Hyandai then rammed a dagger through the handle and into the jamb. With a glance at one another they both ran. 

They both ran as hard as they could, and they did not slow for the full mile, hearing the wailing of rage and anger behind them. As they slowly padded onto the road, both breathing hard, they looked at each other and fell into their arms.

Harlen looked at himself. "Now this is weird." He heard Hyandai's voice say. 

Hyandai looked down at him and said. "It is indeed." she heard him say. "I was not sure it would work."

"Am I going to be able to get back into my head?" He asked her. "Or did we just switch roles permanently?" He said, looking somewhat worried. "I don't think I'll make a good woman."

She smiled down at him. "Nor I a man." She giggled. Causing Harlen to laugh.

She said. "Give my your eyes."

Harlen said. "One moment, my lover." And pulled himself down and kissed himself, and not gently. Then he let his head go. "Okay. I just wondered." He looked downward. "Damn, but that feels odd." He said.

Hyandai got a very odd expression on his face. "Yes, yes, it does feel odd. How do you walk when it is like that?"

"Nevermind that, get me back where I belong." He said.

She giggled again. "Okay, okay." She then stared into his eyes, or her own, it was all very confusing. She jumped back into her own eyes, pouring herself into them like water. As she felt her mind filling, she pushed on Harlen to go back to his own mind, and fall into the blue ones. He went, willingly enough, but left a kiss on her mind.

They both wiped the blood from their noses. Then Harlen said. "Ok, now what was that about mind reading?" He asked.

Hyandai grimaced. "I can read you mind when I look into your eyes, if I wish." She said resignedly.

Harlen said. "Oh." He thought for a moment. "Okay." Shrugged, then walked toward town.

"That is all?" She said, slightly peeved. "Okay?" She chased after him.

"Yeah." He said over his shoulder. "There's nothing there I would ever mind you knowing."

She smiled happily. "I am glad to hear it."

He put his arm over her shoulder, smiled at her, then kissed her. "You can know anything in my head, and I offer it freely to my lover." He said.

"What about Sorcha?" She said, mockingly.

"I think, perhaps, we will talk about that another time." He said, looking at the sky. 

"I hope you don't hold what a witch made me do against me."

She put her arm around him and hugged him close. "I do not." She said. "I feel sorry for her, in a way. She tried to ensorcel your mind. But I had already been there, and she tried to win your heart, but I already had it."

He laughed. "Well, I still would rather not think about it for a while." He said.

They walked toward Morrovale, with more bounce in their steps than either had in many days.



The Solitary Arrow Ch. 09



Harlen and Hyandai walked slowly home, it was early in the day, and they were both careworn and tired from their long nights and suffering. They took comfort in each other's company, and in the beautiful countryside, with its small copses of trees and rolling hills. Shepherds tended their flocks off on those hills, and waved as the couple passed close enough to be seen clearly.

She did not find human lands as objectionable as she had been told they would be. They seemed mostly friendly, and the land was not nearly as 'raped' as many elves felt that it would be. Certainly, the humans changed their environment, as did the elves, or did they think that woodlands were simply naturally like a garden or orchard? That humans were not quite so enamored of simple forest should not be held against them, there was beauty in all sorts of countryside, and she reveled in all the sorts.

The scuttling clouds provided cooling shade as they passed overhead, and the sunlight was bright and warming when it fell on them. She was in very high spirits now. The taint of her womb was healing, and she would soon be whole. The witch had not gotten the true payment she had sought, and Harlen, even if he did not stay with Hyandai, would not return to the embrace of the hag.

They were young, they were in love, and they were happy for the moment. She did not let any of the darker thoughts that she had been having come forth for now, and she simply enjoyed the moment, as an elf should.

That was what she had learned, hanging helpless in the manacles while her folly had dribbled from her torn innards. She had learned that she had approached everything wrongly, and her clan was, too, maybe all elves had been. They had stopped being elves, so worried were they by events of the world, and in their own lands. She would not succumb to that again. Certainly, she would have sadness, and she was certain that evil would befall her again before this ill-conceived quest was complete, but she would not despair, for despair was the one thing that she had to let go of. Despair was not elven.

Harlen, for his part, mulled over his actions of last night. How much of what had happened was witchcraft and how much was his frustration in not being able to give his most intimate love to the woman he felt he did love.

He knew frustration was there, and, though he would never admit it to Hyandai, some of it had, indeed, changed to hostility. He looked through his mind, and found those kernels of resentment, and tried to purge them from him. She was not responsible for what had happened to her, and he knew it. She wanted him, and he wanted her. That things kept interfering was not her doing, and he needed to remember that.

Sorcha had played on their innermost fears, resentments, and twisted their loyalties. But she had failed, ultimately, to break the elf, or subvert the man. She had nearly done both, and if she had both would now be on a very different path.

"I'm sorry." Harlen said to her, taking her hand. "I don't know if it was witchcraft or my own lusts that drove me to think the things I did, or both." He looked over at her as they walked. "I can only ask for your forgiveness and hope that you will."

She smiled tenderly. "If it is needed, I give it. Though, I am not convinced that it is necessary." She looked west. "You knew I was returning to my own lands soon, and there is no great wrong in seeking to do something after that event."

He chuckled. "Yes, but it is rude to go filling a vacancy before it is made."

"Some might say it was good planning." She smiled wryly. "Though I will not." They walked a while in silence again. "Harlen. I am not going home." She said, quietly.

He stopped, watching her take a few steps then she turned to him. "I thought you had to?" He asked.

She walked back to him. "No." She said. "I do not. I will seek out the Ehladrel, but I am not going home to collect another silly man to accompany me." She looked at him.

"You wish me to?" He said, rather shocked, and a little worried.

She smiled. "If you will." She said.

"Of course I will." He answered. Kissing her brow. "I only hope we will fare better than Eleean and you did."

She smiled. "We will." She said, her voice assured. "It was foretold."

She made a quick turn and started up the road again. He stared after her a moment, then jogged after her. "It was foretold?" He asked, catching up to her.

"Of course." She said. "It is all in the seer's words." She patted his arm, as if consoling a school child.

His face looked a bit distant, and not a little stunned. "But the seer said that the man would be your...betrothed." He said.

"So she did." Hyandai said over her shoulder as Harlen had slowed again. "She is never wrong, so I suggest you get used to that idea." Her smile was lovely and her hair gleamed like burnished copper as the sun came out from behind a cloud and lit it from above.

Harlen ran toward her, and she squealed as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her from the ground. He held her to his chest and spun her about, causing her long legs to fly away from him, and he kissed her as they spun. Soon, however, he was dizzy and they both fell into the grass beside the road, giggling and laughing, and he kissed her as she laid atop him. She kissed him back, running her hands up and down his arms and onto his shoulders.

"I shall take that response as a affirmative one." She said, smiling down at him.

Harlen nodded enthusiastically, as a wagon on the road passed them. The driver and his wife sitting on the buckboard glaring at the trysting couple unapprovingly. As the wagon rolled past, two girls, apparently twins, were riding on the tailgate, and they giggled as the couple sat up in the grass and waved to them. The girls giggled some more and waved back until their parents turned their basilisk stares upon them.

Hyandai rose gracefully from atop her man, and stood, straightening her skirt.

Harlen climbed to his feet, and kissed her again, knocking small bits of dirt from his backside, and grass from his back and hair. "We should always have a blanket with us, if we plan on being so impetuous." He said.

"That sort of makes being impetuous rather planned, does it not?" She asked him, helping him dust himself off.

"Perhaps." He agreed. "But then again, people will at least think us good planners when they see us rolling about."

She grinned after the almost vanished cart. "I care not if we are seen in loving one another." She said. "It is honest love and others should see it in flower."

Harlen nodded at that. "Yes, they should, but I don't think they will wish to see my hairy bottom, even in honest love."

She regarded that bottom as they set off on the last mile to Morrovale. "I should think it a good butt, hairy or no." She said, appraising it, and then running her slim fingers over it through is trousers.

The last mile seemed too short to them, as the sun lowered in the sky and the moon was well up. The townsfolk watched them pass and there was some small comment to their passing. They were smiled upon, though, and the people still would come out of their way to watch the elf-maiden pass by. She greeted those that greeted them, and they even stopped again to speak to one of Harlen's hunting acquaintances. This man was named Hurgon, and he was small and wiry, almost like an elf himself. He showed Harlen his recent prize of three wolf tails, and Harlen wowed appreciatively. They talked for a while about the possibility of the Duke rezoning the assigned lots come fall, and discussed the possibilities and pitfalls that might entail. Hyandai busied herself speaking to Hurgon's wife, a tall, broadly built woman who laughed a lot and smiled even more. The two couples spoke for a long while before parting, well after dark fell on the village.

Finally, they arrived at his home, to find Trevir sitting on the porch, looking worried. When he saw them opening the gate. He leapt to his feet and ran to them, hugging Harlen then Hyandai. "I feared for you." He said. "Someone said you two went to the witches road."

Harlen nodded. "Yes, we did, for we had business with the crone." He said. "We needed her advice on some matters, what of it?"

The boy stared blankly. "One should seek a cleric for advise, Harlen, not a witch, they will deceive you."

Harlen nodded. "You're wiser than you look, Trevir, and we will agree now with your council." Hyandai nodded enthusiastically.

"I am glad you two are back well." The boy said, and hugged them both again.

He paused a moment, his face clouding. "Miss Hyandai, there has been an elven man seeking for you, by name."

Her face shifted to one of immense worry. "Me? By my name?" She said, suddenly she was somewhat panicked looking. "What did he look like, or did you get his name?"

The boy shrugged. "He looked like an elven man, he had blonde hair and silver eyes, and he wore a fine mail tunic." He thought a moment. "He had a odd blade crossed with a staff on his back." He added as an afterthought.

"A blade dancer." She said. "Did you get his name?"

Trevir shook his head. "He said he would seek for you later, should you return." He said.

She looked out to the street worriedly. "I see." She said, quietly. "I fear it may be someone whom I know, and they will not be pleased with how my quest has fared." 

"Not another picked suitor?" Harlen said, looking concerned himself.

She shook her head and smiled wanly. "No, if it is who I fear it may be, it is my brother." Her face took on a look of immense worry.

Harlen looked a bit worried. "I though elves tended toward small families." He said. "Yet you seem to have no shortage of siblings."

She smiled widely. "My parents were, and are, legendary among the clan for being rather...affectionate toward one another." She giggled. "I have two sisters, one elder and one younger, and three brothers, two younger and one elder." She looked down the road. "The elder is the one I fear is here. He is the eldest of us and considers himself something of an authority figure." She looked at Harlen. "His name is Ceriandel."

"Speak a name and they shall appear, sister." A voice said from the darkness near the road. A tall elf walked into the light of the lantern Trevir had set upon the porch. He was indeed clad in mail. He walked like a warrior, Harlen noted, moving gracefully, like a cat.

Hyandai sighed, and looked at him. "Well met, Ceriandel." She said, smiling, though it looked somewhat forced to Harlen.

"Am I?" He asked as he stood at the gate. "Somehow, I feel my arrival has come as less than welcome news." He said.

She looked down a moment. "I did not expect anyone from home to follow me on this." She said.

"How could I not?" He said, a small tinge of anger in his voice. "You are my sister, and I cannot let you, of all people, go into harm and not worry for you." He said in a rush of words. "When you did not come home when expected, we grew concerned." He looked at Harlen, and not favorably, near as the hunter could tell. "Where is your betrothed, Eleean?"

She kept her head down. "Dead." She said. "We were accosted by orcs east of here, and he was killed, and I was grievously injured." She said.

He began speaking in elven, words that were both beautiful and sounded very, very hostile. She looked up at him, and her eyes were filled with tears. Then she said. "Speak in Westron, Ceriandel, it is rude to speak in a language those about you cannot understand." Her voice had iron in it now, she had her back up. Enter the courtyard, my brother, stand not in the street, casting your voice at us from a distance.

Harlen told Trevir to go warm the bath, and to stay inside. The boy watched the group as he went inside, and kept a wary eye on Ceriandel as he walked into the yard and stood before the couple.

"I understand from the talk about the village, you were so injured that you needed the special services of a Sorceress." He said, a sneer in his voice. "Such injuries are grievous, I would imagine." He glared at both of them, his eyes seemed to have gained some gray, turning them the sheen of steel.

Hyandai straightened her back and set her shoulders. "You think you have the truth of it all, do you?" She said to her brother, her voice sounding set and her jaw squaring. "You know all things?"

"I do not pretend such." He said. "But I know the marks of an unwanted child, and smell the stench on you of the abattoir." He looked at her, and his eyes flashed with rage. "You perform an act that is most unholy in the eyes of the spirits, and seek to defend yourself, and the man."

"This man did not send me to that place, you unknowing fool." She said, finally snapping, tears rolled down her face as she confronted him. "If you must know my business so intimately, then I tell you, it was no human and elf child that I had torn from my womb, but the offspring of those foul orcs that accosted Eleean and I." She gave him a look of pure anger. "Or would you have me carry such abominations to term?"

The blade dancer blinked a few times, then said. "I did not know." The color had drained from his face. "Forgive me sister." The anger was gone from him.

"I can forgive you, but you need to apologize to this man, for you placed the blame on him, and he has not touched me in that way." She said, giving him an icy stare. "Yet." She added.

Harlen was very uncomfortable now, and fidgeted a bit. The predator eyes of her brother worried him, even as they were now cast downward in remorse.

"Yet your mind thinks of lying with him now?" Ceriandal said, looking at her disbelievingly. "You find your own race lacking?"

Her eyes widened in shock. "You can say such, hypocrite, I know you have lain with human women, on more than one occasion when serving in the Windy Isles." She turned her back to him. "Do not lecture me on virtues such as that, unless you have some standing in the area."

"It is not the same..." He started.

She interrupted him, spinning about and stepping forward, forcing him to step back a half step. "It is not the same?" She screamed at him. "You think it is so different because you are a male?" She was railing now, and Harlen was very uncomfortable. "It is not different, you self-righteous ass!" She yelled. "I will take whomever I like to my bower, and you will not gainsay it." She quieted down a bit. "Or did you have a friend in need, perhaps? Someone more worthy of me putting my legs around?" She grinned evilly now, and Harlen took a few steps away from the siblings. "Bring your friend about, and we shall compare his staff to my Harlen's, and if he can best him, then I shall take your friend instead."

The elf looked indignant. "Have you become a whore?" He exclaimed. 

And upon that, Harlen turned. "You will keep a civil tongue on my land, elf." He said, raising a pointing finger at the blade dancer. "Or warrior or no, I shall remove you, lest you desire to draw blade on me."

"I'll not dishonor my chosen calling for you." Said the blade dancer. "Or for her." He said, pointing to Hyandai. He backed to the gate, and walked out, shutting it behind him. "I see now that my sister is no longer of us, and she has cleaved to you, so be it." He turned and walked down the road, at the edge of the light, he turned again, his silvern eyes glinting. "When he has grown old and died, my sister, maybe you will return to your own kind." He turned and was gone, into the night.

"I did not know there was a stigma attached to being with a human." Harlen said, putting his hand on Hyandai's shoulder. She was crying, frustrated and angry tears.

She looked up at him, smiling gently. "To most elves, there is not." She said. "But some are of a different sort, I just never knew my brother was one of those." She sniffed and touched his face. "Most elves know one cannot control whom they fall in love with, they are happy just to see others in bliss." She looked to where her brother had gone off into darkness. "But some think it debases our line to give ourselves to humans, though dallying with them is apparently acceptable, do not grow attached to them, else you are a whore."

"You are no whore, my love." Harlen said. "You know that."

She nodded. "I know." She giggled sourly. "If I am, I am very bad at it, as I've yet to bed the main target of my lusts."

Harlen smiled at that. And hugged her to him. She let herself be enfolded in his protective arms. "You took a grave risk." She said. "I half expected him to come at you."

He looked down at her. "So long as he didn't draw that ehladrel on his back, I wasn't worried, I can hold my own in unarmed brawls."

She giggled. "That is what I feared, the risk was that you would hurt my wayward brother. He is a fool, but he would not have drawn on you. And without being able to do his dance of the blade, you would have probably pounded him like a tent peg." She smiled up at him. "He is an accomplished warrior, Harlen, and not to be taken lightly, but he would not be used to such a contest, and you are much stronger than he." She squeezed his arm. "If you cross him again, please do not hurt him, he is my brother, after all."

"I'll keep that in mind." Harlen said, looking, himself, down the road.

Trevir popped his head out the door. "He has gone?" He asked, looking warily about.

"Yes, young Trevir." Hyandai said, sighing. "He said his piece and left."

He looked at her. "I thought I would like all elves." The lad said. "But your brother is a different sort from you." He looked at her.

"Yes, he is different from me." She agreed. "Very much so." With that, she took Harlen's hand and Trevir's and led the two into the house. She sent the lad off to bed in his small servant's quarters in the back, and she sent Harlen to the bathing room, to wash the witch's stink from himself. She, herself, sat in the common room and thought a while.

When Harlen emerged from the bath, she watched him cross the darkened room for the stairs. She smiled, realizing he had not seen her. She slipped behind him into the bath and climbed in, soaking herself. Harlen did not come back down, so she supposed he was awaiting her upstairs. She forced some water into herself, and back out, carrying small blood clots out with it. She was tired of bearing injuries to her womanhood, even if she was not planning on putting it to use. Finally, she climbed from the tub and walked out, still dripping into the back. She laid upon the grass there, and watched the stars overhead. She laid there a long while, drying slowly in the night air, and feeling the cool caress of the breezes. She thought of Harlen, and his touch, and she longed for it, but she, for some reason, did not go to him to receive it.

She wanted Harlen to make love to her, and was growing quite frustrated at her inability to let him do so. Her mind ran through scenarios of him taking her, in various poses and places. And she moaned slightly at the thoughts. The stars did not accuse her of being a whore for her thoughts or desires. She was no whore, but she was, as the witch had put it, 'damaged goods.' The ordeal that the small remnant of her mind had been put through still affected the rest of her when they merged again. The awful feeling of being torn into and the wretched feelings that her body gave back when it actually somewhat enjoyed the feeling of being used thus. That was the part she would bear the most. People would commiserate over the agony, and she would get sympathy for that part. But the little part of pleasure, sick, twisted pleasure, she had felt, and the shuddering orgasm she had while her womanhood was being torn and ripped would elicit no sympathy from Harlen or anyone else she could think of.

And that was the agony of it. She actually found herself envying the small part of herself that had endured the rape, for that one filthy moment of pleasure that was buried in the humiliation of the violent encounter. She sighed at the stars. They would never clear her of the charges of 'orc lover' that she had given to herself for that little piece of physical betrayal. Her body had taken pleasure in the act that had deflowered her, impregnated her, and ruined her, even while her mind had screamed in agony. She came to the sudden realization that she was touching herself. Her body, even now, was acting of its own accord, and she removed her fingers from her opening. She had been thinking of the orc over her, entering her, and using her body as a orifice to ram its huge member into and to spew its foul seed into her womb. Seed that had taken root and had tried to give her corrupt children.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 09



"Miss Hyandai?" Trevir's voice came from the darkness in his doorway. The moon was behind clouds and the yard was very dark. She must have moaned or made some noise he heard, and he knew it was her. She kept still and looked over toward the little servant's quarters. He was standing nude in the doorway, his young body bald and smooth. He looked like an elven lad of almost Hyandai's age like that.

He walked toward the outhouse and went inside. She did not like the little box much, but could see its usefulness. She slipped back into the house while he was otherwise occupied, and it was just as well, as the moon came from behind the clouds and would have revealed her had he come out then.

She went upstairs and found Harlen curled up in the bed, and slipped in beside him. He responded to her by turning toward her and murmuring. She had gotten surprisingly aroused outside, partially by her darkly erotic thoughts about the pleasure of her body, and partially, even, by Trevir's smaller, but somehow much purer erection. She moved her hand onto Harlen's waist and slowly crept it toward his own organ. She found it, hanging limply, and touched it. Harlen's eyes opened.

"Um. Hello." He said, smiling after a half second.

She squeezed his flaccid penis. "Good Evening." She said, smiling back.

"You've got my bits." He noted, raising an eyebrow.

She giggled. "So I do." She said. "I had thought you would not mind terribly."

He stretched out, and said. "I do not, but I have to confess a bit of soreness."

She patted his shoulder. "I know, the witch made you work hard for my benefit."

He gave a strained smile. "I don't know about that, but I do know that my rod is quite sore, and you giving me another erection is not helping." He touched her face. "I am sorry if you had plans." He said.

She gave him a peck on the cheek. "Not really, I was just playing, I had not even thought of you being sore, I did not realize it happened to men from overuse, as well.

He nodded. "Sadly, it does."

"Then I will leave your man alone, for this one night." She said. "But I will expect additional payment later, to make up for my loss." Her smile grew wide indeed.

"You shall get it." He said, matching her smile.

She pressed to him, and he embraced her. She felt warm again, and safe. She had some rather inappropriate thoughts outside, about many things, but they were gone now, and she just enjoyed his strong arms and his cleanly soaped smell. Soon, she, too, was asleep.

---

In the light of dawn, Hyandai awoke to find Harlen holding her in his arms once again. She was facing him this time, and she just watched his sleeping face untill he awoke. It was not terribly long before he did, people seem to know when they are watched. 

"Good morning." She said, smiling.

He looked at her, and kissed the tip of her nose. "Good morning." He answered.

She giggled at that for a moment, then said. "I saw young Mister Trevir last night in his birthday suit."

"You did, did you?" He asked, his eyes wide with amaze, his smile wide as well. "And what is your elven assessment of him?"

She grinned. "He is a, shall we say, well-built boy."

"Well, imagine that." Harlen said, enjoying her naughty talk. Her face was so deliciously innocent looking, to think that she harbored rather lusty thoughts within was something of a shock sometimes, and it thrilled Harlen when she expressed them. "Should I worry?" He asked, looking down into the sheets.

She said. "Not for a few years yet, but maybe then a bit." She said, smiling. "He is likely to be your size, perhaps."

Harlen sighed. "Not even betrothed fully, and already the eyes wander." He said.

She looked at him. "That is something, seriously, you will need to learn to deal with." Her expression was not one of humor. "Elves do have eyes that look sometimes far afield." She shrugged. "It is something that is part of us, we are very sensual creatures and we demand our senses be stimulated."

Harlen laughed. "A roving eye is not a strictly elven invention." He said. "Most humans suffer the same affliction or enjoy the same blessing, depending on your viewpoint." He touched her hands. "It is where these go that concerns me, and these," he touched her lips, "and this." He slid his hand down to the bottom of her belly and over her pubic mound. "The eyes can wander freely."

"Please, do not make light of my fey." She said, her face serious. "I am partially driven by it, and on occasion, it will seize me."

He looked at her seriously now. "You mean you may be unfaithful?" He asked.

She shook her head. "No. I am faithful to you, and will always be." She said. "My heart is yours. But there is a difference between love and sex." She explained. "And while the two do intertwine, they are not nearly the same. My lusts are powerful some times, like two days ago, when I embarrassed Trevir."

He grinned at her. "You're saying you may come on to people on occasion? Flirt with them and such?"

"Yes." She said, smiling weakly. "And if they take me up on my offers of the moment, well, things may happen." She looked terribly embarrassed and worried.

"Okay." Harlen said, and regarded her seriously. "And you wish to know how I will react to that?"

"I am fairly certain you will react to that negatively." She said. "You will probably send me away." Her face was downcast now.

He chuckled. "That would be a bit crazy for me." He said. "To loose something wonderful because someone else sampled its goodness?"

She looked at him a bit confused. "You would not be upset?"

"To a point, I would, of course, be." He said, smiling at her. "But if you were a very, very fine wine, would I throw out the barrel because someone else had a glass of it at some point?"

"I am not wine, but I see your analogy." She said. "I do not plan on doing this thing. Since we will be together almost all the time, naturally, when my fey strikes, you will be the one usually at hand to take care of the ensuing results." She thought a moment. "And if I am only with people I dislike then it is easily resisted." She looked at him. "It is when I am around men I like already, and you are not, that a problem may arise. Such as two days ago."

Harlen thought on this a while. "And this is likely?" He asked.

She nodded slowly. Watching his eyes.

"I suppose, I will have to learn to forgive it, won't I?" He replied. "I'm sure as hell not giving you up, and you have now given me fair warning." He did not look terribly pleased, but he was not angry. "May I ask one thing of you, though?" He asked.

"Of course." She said, trying to smile brightly.

He said. "Keep it discreet if you must." He said. "You know us humans are a bit gossipy."

She nodded gravely. "I can always hope it will not arise, but if it should, I will try to keep it out of the public eye." She kissed his cheek. "I do not seek to embarras you or humiliate you."

He rolled onto his back and looked at the cieling. "I should have known all that perfection had a catch." He chuckled. "You're too wondrous to keep all to myself."

"Do not fear, my beloved." She said, soothingly. "The fey does not often strike, and it can be battled back, which I intend to try to do." She put her hand on his chest. "I only warn you so that you know if something unfortunate happens, that it is due in no way to some shortcoming on your part."

He grinned again. "It is an elven thing?"

"It is an elven thing." She replied.



The Solitary Arrow Ch. 10



The next morning was rainy, and the lowering thunderclouds did little to improve that, drowning the countryside in sequential torrents of heavy summer rains. The dark mood of it sank into Harlen's heart. When it was like this, he could not work, and his work was him. Or, at least it had been. He sat in his little workroom at midmorning when Hyandai entered, dressed in one of his mother's old work dresses. She was carrying a large bowl of fruit, all pre-skinned and cut into little chunks. She asked about the various stages of tanning and preparation of skins as he worked, and popped pieces of different fruit into his mouth as he talked. She was slightly disturbed at some of the more gruesome details of tannery, such as where one obtains ammonia for sterilizing the skins and killing all the meat still attached.

"I never knew where the tanner's got their base materials." She said, eyeing the vat in the corner of his tannery dubiously.

Harlen chuckled and said, "Perhaps elven tanners get theirs from another source." He picked up another half-done skin and dropped it into the large vat before closing the airtight lid. "Though I wager they get it the same way but don't tell anyone."

She curled her nose at that thought, then fed him a chunk of 'bananana.' She enjoyed saying it so much she figured she could get away with an extra 'na' in there. Trevir was in and out grabbing this implement or that, then retreating to the back courtyard, he was taking advantage in a break in the rain to work on something. Harlen was curious what he was doing, and Hyandai was as well, but he had asked them to not peek, so they did not.

Harlen offered to let her try her hand at scraping, but she balked at the sharpness of the blade, and said, "I would cut through it or ruin it, and those pelts are worth much to your people." She added, "I will try my hand at small things, when you get rabbit skins or something, where I can make up to you any mistakes I may make in a single night."

He smiled and nodded at that, wishing fervently that she would ruin a very good skin if she were planning on 'making up for mistakes' in the way he was thinking. He watched her deft fingers, though and figured she would not make such mistakes at all, her manual agility was amazing. He often watched her idly performing tricks with those tiny fingers that he could barely manage with precise tools crafted for the purpose.

The thing he most enjoyed was when she found his records. She had seen the dismal state of his financial and transaction records and had flown into a near rage. Apparently, scribes were wroth to let people keep poor records. She had immediately taken his entire chest of small documents and a few hand-penned ledgers and sat down at his second work bench. She wielded quill and ink like a master swordsman, ripping through his shabby accounting like a troll through a goblin camp. Three hours later, she presented him with a single ledger. When he opened it, he gasped in dismay, the records were all now in elven, and used elven arithmetic, as well.

"What in blazes am I to do with these?" He asked, trying to stifle a laugh. "And when the Duke's assessor comes by he will surely throw a fit when he must retain a translator to decipher my records."

She smiled. "Elven math is easier to do, actually, and the assessor probably already knows that." She showed him the finely-drawn characters. "Your people have yet to fully accept the concept of zero, which is amazingly useful. I will one day teach it to you." Harlen nodded with suspicious eyes, but folded the book closed. "And what is the verdict, my love, am I wealthy enough for your tastes?"

She grinned, her secret having been found out. "I did not wish to inquire as to your wealth or lack thereof, but if put to it, I would say more than." She opened his ledger back up. "According to your records, you have over a thousand marks in the ducal vault, as well as the near thousand you keep here."

He nodded. "The duke does this for his people, to ensure against robbery or accident." He smiled. "He is not a bad man, despite what you think from my welted back."

She touched his wide back. "I know. I have spoken to Trevir about him, and the lad says he's something of a hero."

Harlen chuckled, "I wouldn't say hero, but a decent enough man. Unlike some nobles, he does not get overly involved in the day-to-day events of the Duchy. He mostly leaves us alone and we prosper...and send him taxes."

She smiled. "That is a very elven way of governing." She said. "I suppose the proximity of Windir to this land has had some influence, even with our sealing the borders."

---

At noon, the two broke from the workroom and went back into the common. Trevir was just scampering through, with another load of tools in his hands. "I am almost finished, Miss Hyandai!" He said excitedly as he ran through.

"Do you know what he's doing?" Harlen asked her.

She shook her head slowly, but smiled at Trevir's exuberance.

Harlen watched as he went through the bathing room door, dropping a small file as he did so, then recovering it with a hand shot back through the crack in the door. "He is a good lad." He said. "I am glad I could help him, at the least."

Hyandai hugged him. "He will be a good man, too." She agreed and kissed his cheek. "Like his mentor."

He looked down at her, so small beside him, but she controlled him as surely as a puppet master at the fair. If she chose to pull a string of his heart, he would dance to the tune she set. She was looking up at him, as well, thinking similar thoughts. He wondered what he had done to earn the love of a woman, especially an elven maiden. That, he knew from legend, was no small task, for they were not wont to give their love to a human, short-lived and clumsy things that they were. But he had managed it, and was not sure how, for if he knew, he could grow truly wealthy in advising other hopeful men.

He squeezed her narrow waist, and she pressed to him. "On the day following tomorrow, the Sorceress said." She whispered to him. "I will be sound again." Then she looked up at him a second time. "Then you can make me hurt a few days, no?"

Harlen chuckled at her boldness. She went through bouts of that, he was noticing. One moment she was a shy child, then the next a bold and wanton woman. He supposed it had to do with the 'fey,' as she called it. It was part of her, and he had to accept it. It was what helped her make statements like that, but it was also what guided her to terrify and offend Trevir the other morning, as well. He kissed her brow and sighed. 

Trevir came back in, carrying a large armload of Harlen's tools and said, "It's done!" And went into the workroom to put them away. The couple looked at one another and awaited his return. A moment later he did so, quivering in excitement. "Come see!" He said and went through the bathing room door.

The couple followed, watching him scamper ahead and passed through the large bathing room, with its huge wooden tub. Hyanda had become enamored of the tub, with its scalding water and its luxurious depth. She bathed nightly, if time permitted, after Trevir had gone to bed.

They entered the back yard behind him, and he pointed to the corner of the court, under a particularly large oak that was wedged between a willow and a elm. The three trees formed a sort of cul-de-sac between them, and he had built his little project there. Its construction was crude and rudimentary, but Hyandai recognized it right off. It was a prayer shrine, an elven prayer shrine. She gasped at it, and held her hand over her mouth. Then she had to fight back the tears she wanted to weep for joy. The lad had built this for her and, obviously, no one else.

She walked up to it and looked it over. It was crudely built, indeed, but it was sturdy, and was in no way disrespectful of the elven religion. Careful attention had been paid to its dimensions, and its orientation, as well. Due east, toward the rising sun and moon. She smiled as she touched the top. "Thank you Trevir." She said, and looked at him and Harlen standing nearby. "How did you know how to build this?"

Trevir jerked a thumb at his mentor and said, "Harlen showed me from a book." His face was so bright and guileless. "He said that you were going to be staying a while yet, and would need a place to practice your faith." Then his smile widened more, which was impressive, indeed. "So I built one."

She wiped a wayward tear from her eye and walked to stand in front of the youth. It always amazed her how large humans are. This boy, not even beginning, yet, his final growth to manhood, stood as tall as she, and even more broadly built. She put her arms around him in a mighty hug, and he squirmed, but hugged her back. "You are a wonderful man." She said to him as she pressed her head to his shoulder. Her eyes were on Harlen, and her lips near Trevir's ear. Both knew it was him being complimented and they both beamed.

She looked at it some more, fussing over some of the details he had put within it, and pointing out one small mistake which Trevir immediately went to run for tools to fix. As the house's door slammed she said. "How did you know I was missing my practices?" She asked Harlen. "I had not mentioned them."

He shrugged. "I would be, were I in Windir." He replied. "So, I figured you missed yours, and borrowed a book from one of my friends that had a picture of a shrine, the book said elves were inclined to pray at such, and I let the nimblest hands I control take over from there." He said, grinning as the lad bolted from the house with a small hammer and saw in his hands.

After he finished, she declared it now perfect, and promised she would use it very soon. Trevir was beside himself and asked when that might be.

She looked at him seriously. "Do you wish to participate?" She asked him.

He looked at Harlen for guidance. His mentor smiled and nodded, then Trevir repeated the gesture, grinning. Then he stopped. "It's not unclad, is it?" He asked, looking frightened.

She giggled at that. "No, Trevir. It is a clothed thing. Only boys birthdays are cause for the boy going unclad to the altar." Then she broke into full laughter as a look of utter dismay crossed his face.

"B...Birthdays?" He asked. "Why would they do that?"

She straightened up her face and said, with an almost serious expression. "Because everyone needs to see how he is coming along. Whether he is growing up to be a strong and healthy lad." She looked him over appraisingly. Trevir seemed very glad his birthday had just passed.

Trevir excused himself, saying that it was time to go buy the day's consumables, then ran off. Harlen looked at Hyandai suspiciously. "Do they really make boys come to the altar on their birthday unclad?" He asked.

She nodded. "Indeed, they do." She said. Then she smiled widely. "Actually, all ceremonies are traditionally skyclad, but it is not utterly required." She grinned at him. "I will keep my clothes on for poor Trevir, he has had enough surprises from me."

As they walked back to the house. "I sure wish an elven woman had 'surprised' me a few times as I grew up." Harlen murmured.

They entered the house again, and none too soon, as they sky began to fall again as they walked from the yard. Harlen declared he needed to speak to Tammer, and Hyandai begged tiredness and went to nap a bit in their massive bed, so he left off alone. As he walked the graveled road, the rain spattering off his oilskin poncho, he realized that they did not part company much at all, and he did not mind that with her. He smiled back at the house, and was already wanting to go back and be with Hyandai. He fought that urge and went on toward the core of the village. He had things to discuss with his old mentor, and they were best discussed during the day, when the tavern would be very sparsely populated.

"Ho, Harlen." Said the old man as he entered. "Back so soon?" He added, slamming down a large mug of beer in front of him as he sat at a stool.

He nodded. "Yes, Tammer, my old friend and master." He said, trying to sound respectful.

Tammer laughed. "Old, undoubtedly; friend, definately; but I hear few can master you these days, and your hunting skills are now regarded highly, indeed."

Harlen shrugged. "So they say, but I was bested by a mere few orcs, and Hyandai suffered for it most grievously." He watched the old man pull up a stool to his side of the bar.

"Don't be so rough on yourself, lad." He said, smiling at the hunter. "Orcs are not to be trifled with, they're powerful, cunning, and tough." He said. "I'd not cross one if I could help it. Besides, a good huntsman is not necessarily a good man of war." He looked serious now. "Fighting foes like orcs is a very different skill to killing a wild boar, or even a mountain bear."

Harlen agreed with a nod.

"But, something tells me you're not here to talk hunting with me, lest it be something about bringing down a wild elf." Tammer said.

Harlen nodded again. "There you have it, my friend." He said. "Exactly what I came to you to ask about."

The old man laughed. "Then out with it, lad. I've not all day to answer sad heart questions." He then added, "Also, be careful with my advise. Note that I do not have an elven bride on my arm this day, so my skill with the fair folk, especially the fair sex among them is suspect."

Harlen nodded. "I wanted to ask about the 'fey.'"

Tammer nodded slowly. "Told you about that, has she?" He asked. "She is decided on her part, then."

The hunter nodded. "I thought it might be something they didn't share with just anyone." He said.

"Well, lad," Said the old man, "Unless her fey is war, you're in good shape, relatively speaking."

Harlen chuckled. "No, it's far from war." He said, smiling.

Tammer leaned in conspiratorially. "Her sister's fey was thievery, if you can believe that." He said. "I spent most of my money paying for stuff she filched in those days." He looked at Harlen. "If you know her fey, then you know what to expect, though, and I was always ready with a quick word and a quicker purse when she would get cought."

Harlen looked down at his half full mug. "If only Hyandai's was so simple to work with."

The old man nodded. "I will not ask you, Harlen, what it might be, for some are rather embarrassing to bear." He said. "But know that it is core to her, and without it she would not be who she is." He grinned widely. "But I think I know what it is, for her behavior marks her with it. Her sister gave me no kiss by proxy." He said, smiling. "Her fey is love, lust, or romance, or I'm a wet-eared whelp."

Harlen nodded. "But it is just how she is then." He said. "Then I don't want to do anything about it, including make her behave against its nature."

Tammer's hand laid on his own on the counter. "It'd be like her asking you to stop being a man and wear a dress and squeeze out pups." He grinned widely again. "And, by the One, I'll shoot you myself if I see you in a dress."

The hunter finished his beer, and payed Tammer despite his protests. He took his leave of his old friend, and headed back for his home. On the way he stopped to speak to a couple of the other hunters who were in town trading, they stood together under a porch that ran the front of one of the general goods stores, and they discussed more of the events and of how the orcs had grown more bold of late. It was decided that they would soon send an envoy to the duke to petition him to spare some troops to 'thin the herd.'

He arrived home just before the evening meal time, and smelled venison cooking, and vegetables, maybe squash, being boiled. He walked toward the kitchen to find Hyandai there, wearing an apron about her waist. His heart nearly burst at that image of domestic normalcy. "Did you and Tammer have a good talk?" She asked, smiling at him and stirring the small pot of squash.

"Indeed, we did." He replied, putting his arms about her from behind and kissing her neck. She wriggled in his grip, but did not protest, or try to move. "I don't wish to turn you into a normal housewife, my lover, but by the One, you look marvelous in that apron." He whispered into her ear.

She leaned back and kissed his earlobe. "Perhaps, tomorrow, I will wear just it, then." She whispered. Then she enjoyed the reaction, smiling softly as he pressed to her and she felt him harden. She was teasing him, she knew it, and she liked doing it.

Trevir walked in and said. "Ech. You two have a room, don't you?" His face registered mock distaste.

Hyandai turned slipped from Harlen and turned on the lad, she managed to grab his chest and she hugged him close, pecking him about the face with little kisses, making a huge amount of racket with her smacking sounds. He squirmed and giggled at her, and thoroughly enjoyed the attention, whatever the cause. Finally, she let him go and he pretended to wipe his cheek. "She's dangerous, that one is." He laughed.

The elf went back to stirring the pot and winked at him. "You know you like it." She said over her shoulder.

"No I don't." He said unconvincingly, mainly due to the deep crimson he had turned over the last thirty seconds. Harlen ruffled his hair and asked if he was done with loading up the wood boxes and the boy shuffled off.

He kissed Hyandai's neck. "You're going to give the poor boy some very strange ideas about girls." He said as he nuzzled into her hair.

"Like what, pray tell?" She asked, smiling and tilting her head to give him more neck to nuzzle. "That we like boys and we give them kisses?" She said.

Harlen shrugged. "And that they're all incredibly beautiful and mind-numbingly friendly." He said, kissing her shoulder.

"We are." She said, and picked up the pot and dumped the stewed squash into a bowl. "All of us are friendly if the man is worth it."

---

The three of them ate their dinner, and enjoyed some light conversation later. Harlen discussed his plans in the near future to start Trevir coming on his hunting trips into the wood. The lad seemed to be good enough with the bow now, and he was itching to actually try to shoot something, enough so that the neighbors were beginning to fear for their pets' safety.

Hyandai and Trevir did the dishes after the meal and she sent him off for the evening. She gave him a kiss on his cheek as he left, when Harlen was not watching, and he definitely did not wipe it off, she noted.

---

The rain continued into the night as the couple prepared for bed. Hyandai smiled as Harlen disrobed. "My lover, I would like to pleasure you tonight." She said, eyeing his manhood as he pulled off his pants.

"I'm not one to say no to a direct request." He said, his own mouth turning up in a wide smile.

She laid on the bed as he crawled up beside her. They began kissing and touching one another, gently exploring each other with their hands and fingertips and mouths. He loved the feel of her smooth skin and silky hair under his touch. She liked his coarseness of hair, and his tanned skin, she was even beginning to like his many small and large scars. Harlen had received a great number of injuries throughout his life, she saw. She wanted to kiss each of them as she found them. The elf wished she could make them forgotten and disappear.

As they moved about each other, Harlen had managed to find one of her small knees, and was kissing up her thigh from it. He was halfway to her groin when she said, "I was going to pleasure you." Her frown was utterly unconvincing and he grinned up at her. 

"I guess you can do that." He said. "After I'm done." He added, and continued his exploration with his lips and tongue. As he neared her entrance, she touched his hair, and ran her fingers into it. She could feel his warm breath on her labia, then she felt the gentle caress of his tongue on them, then over her clitoris. She moaned softly and laid back, still holding his hair.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 10



He moved his tongue slowly and forcefully over her inner folds, then into her vagina. She gasped as he pulled out and sucked directly on her sensitive little knob of a clitoris. 

"Harlen, that feels so wondrous." She said, watching him as he slid his tongue over the whole area, his eyes shut and obviously enjoying himself.

He lifted up a moment. "It tastes the same, my love." He said, and buried his mouth and tongue between her upraised thighs. She smiled widely as she could feel herself begin the slow climb to release, and intended to savor every inch going up the hill. Harlen had moved a bit around, and she found she could reach his swollen cock from where she lay, and did so. Wrapping her cool, slim fingers around his engorged shaft. Slowly, she stroked the organ, watching in fascination as the skin slid over it, and how supple and soft it was. She liked squeezing hard, and watching the head turn purple and swell, and the veins on the sides bulge in tension. A shiver ran through her as her pleasure from his tongue's ministrations mounted higher on her climbing ascent.

She started twisting around herself, and managed to get close enough to his pelvis to take the head of his manhood into her mouth. She lapped at the head with her small, quick tongue, and felt it twitching in time with her tune. Harlen moaned as she began applying soft suction to him, and they began to time their strokes and tongue movements together. Her hand moved from his head to his scrotum and started gently rolling his testicles around within the loose skin. She began to taste the saltiness that meant his climax was nearing, and began to apply her tongue even faster, determined to bring him to a finish before he did so to her, but she was not at all sure she could, she was very near herself, beginning to gasp for air and move her hips in response to his motions.

She felt her orgasm grip her, and her legs stiffened, clamping onto the sides of Harlen's head, and holding him in place while he continued to lick her, he lapped frantically as she writhed through the orgasm, intensifying the sensations as he moved his tongue over her clitoris.

Then she tasted his seed flooding her waiting mouth. She swallowed greedily, now used to the act, and not at all bothered any longer by the taste. It was not disagreeable, and he enjoyed it a lot, so it made it a good thing in her mind, and something to not be bothered by.

When he finished spending himself, and she felt him going soft, even under her fast tongue, she slipped her lips from him. "That is better." She concluded. "With one more full day after today to wait, I was going to burst if someone did not reach their pinnacle.

He chuckled as he left off lapping at her, and his head rested on her thigh. "Well, now we have both done so, therefore we should be good to go until day after tomorrow.

She nodded. "I do not wish to wait, but think we should."

He agreed, but said. "Yes, but very first thing in the morning, I think would be wise."

She giggled. "To prevent interruptions?"

He rubbed her thigh with his hand. "Exactly." He said. "I do not want something else to get in the way."

She sat up and stroked his hair with her narrow fingers. "Agreed, my lover, as soon as we awaken."

They both shifted around and laid on their pillows. Hyandai did not use a pillow as she slept, though, she preferred his arm, and insisted on it, for going to sleep, at least, and became quite vexed if he tried to avoid it.

They laid there a short while, with the light orb in its pouch. Then Harlen said. "Did you mean what you said about betrothal?"

She looked at him in the dark, seeing him perfectly well, and knowing she was just an indistinct blur in the dark to him. "Yes, my love, of course I meant it."

He smiled. "Is there something we need to do?"

She touched his lips with her fingertips. "A small ceremony, at least to my people it is small, but I understand your folk have one, also."

He nodded. "But it is just for permanent marriages, not engagements, which is what we call your betrothal."

She nodded. "I understand, but there is no ceremony for engagement?" She asked.

He said. "Not really, the man just asks and the woman accepts or not." He kissed her forehead. "I hope you will accept."

"I already have." She said, smiling broadly. "I accepted almost a week ago, someone should have told you."

He embraced her close and inhaled deeply through her hair, sighing it back out. "Yeah, they should have." He said quietly.

---

The morning was better than before, but there was still some threat of rain in the air. Heavy clouds scuttled overhead, but there were breaks in them, and no rain was falling as they awoke. Harlen still embracing his lovely companion, and she curled up in a small package in front of him. She uncurled and smiled at him. "Good morrow, my lover." She said, kissing his nose.

He yawned and said. "And to you, angel of the morning."

She giggled. "I thought I was a soul-sucking demoness?"

"Only when parts of me are asking favors." He replied, grinning widely.

She groped the parts in question and asked, "And this morning it desires me not?"

"Oh," Harlen said, looking very serious, "it desires you, very much, but it desires other than your mouth when next it enters you."

She grinned lasciviously. "There ARE other possibilities, you know?" Her golden eyes were beginning to turn a bright bronze. 

Harlen laughed. "Ho, ho." He said. "And now you wish to try something like that?" He said, touching her hip gently.

She shrugged. "Why not?" She asked, her eyebrows lifted. "I was not injured there in any way."

The hunter kissed her brow. "No, my dearest. If you wish it another time, after we have made love as we await, then perhaps we will try that." He said. "But next time I enjoy pleasures with you, I want it to be in the way people are truly meant to."

She smiled. "Very well, but I did offer." She said, taking hold of his hand and moving it onto her upturned rump. "It may be an offer long in the coming again." She giggled.

He looked thoughtful then said. "I would like to wait, my love."

She giggled again. "Very well." She said and rolled over and sat up. "Then what are we to do?" She glanced mischievously back over her shoulder. "Perhaps I should go bother poor Trevir some more?"

Harlen rolled behind her and grabbed her waist. "You already have that poor lad seeing stars all hours of the day, my sweet, don't torment him."

She pouted. "But I must do something naughty." She said, looking up at him with a somewhat dark expression, though her smile remained in place. "Really, I must."

Harlen kept his face placid while thinking about her fey and how it would rear its head from time to time. Was this one of them? He looked down into her eyes, and she softened her smile, but the eyes remained intense. "Very well, my love, I will resist myself, this once." She said, standing and regarding herself in the mirror. "We should not make this a common thing." She said, running her hand down her belly and over the folds of her pubic mound.

He watched in fascination as she licked her lips then opened her mouth part way and her fingers rubbed over her own clitoris. She did not even notice him staring, now, so far gone as she was. A sigh escaped her throat and she leaned forward a bit, and he could now see between her legs, that she had two fingers nestled between her labia, entering herself. Her legs trembled a bit, and she gave a sizable twitch with her whole body. She turned about to him, and looked down at his reclining figure.

"It is hard to fight my fey, Harlen." She said. "And somewhat foolish to try." Her expression was strained. Her fingers were still imbedded in her small slit. "I do not know why it is so active of late, possibly hormones from that unwanted seed, or it could be the general tension I have felt for these days." She pulled the fingers from herself, and licked them. "But, it is active, and it is not a contest I relish." She sat back on the bed, her eyes slowly shifting back to their normal golden color. "I am sorry, my love, but if you would cleave to me, you will need to accept that part of me."

He watched her calm. "What did you do when it happened before me, or Eleean?" He asked.

She smiled darkly. "Eleean never saw it." She said. "As a child, of course, it never manifested in anything beyond a curiosity about sexual things." Her lips pursed. "But, since I was of age," she said, "it has led me to some rather odd situations. I was a maiden, that is the truth, but there are other things a fey can drive one to." She looked at her reflection in the mirror. "Things I will not discuss with anyone save my husband, when I am bound for life."

He nodded. "Fair enough." He said, kissing her cheek. "I shouldn't have asked."

"I understand your interest, as I am currently your concern." She said, smiling, and standing again. "But I will say none of it is terribly bad, but all of it may be terribly embarrassing to me." She began to dress in her doeskin clothes. "Today, I wish to see your grand mother again." She said, flatly. "Will that be acceptable?" She asked.

"Of course." Harlen answered. "She would probably love to see you."

She looked at him with sad eyes now. "I would ask you to lie to her." She said, then looked down. "I hate to do that, but I must."

He nodded. "About the night-orb?" He asked.

She looked up again. "Yes." She replied. "I will tell her I miscarried, as is somewhat common among human and elf conceptions."

Harlen said. "I understand that. Yes, a little lie would probably serve best, and if she has heard rumor of the visit to the Sorceress, it was regarding the miscarriage, trying to prevent it."

She nodded. "Good. Much as I hate to lie, especially to your gramma, it is something I think best. She believed it to be yours, and I implied that it was most welcome."

He nodded. "I sort of thought it went like that." He said. He chewed his lip. We'll go over after lunch."

---

They sat in his gramma's tiny common room and the elder woman fussed over the elven girl. "You poor thing." She said, her face the very picture of concern. "I hope it wasn't too painful for you." She was near to tears.

"No, gramma." Hyandai said, looking at the floor. "It was painless, actually, as it was too small for me to even feel."

Gramma patted her shoulder. "I meant in your heart." She said. 

"Well, my heart is troubled over it, but I will be okay, with time." She said, taking Harlen's hand into her own.

Harlen looked extremely uncomfortable, luckily gramma took it as upset over what had happened. "Don't you two worry." She said, trying to put on a happy grin, despite the terrible news she had just received. "You're both young and healthy, and if a child is what you want, I am sure you will be blessed by the One with a beautiful one."

Hyandai nodded and smiled at her, then turned toward Harlen. "I seek a child very much, gramma." She said. "Though we had not really spoken of it."

His rather dour countenance changed almost instantly to one of unrehearsed surprise. "You do?" He asked.

She kissed his wrist. "Yes, my love, I do. Though I think that we should wait until later."

He nodded agreement, then smiled lopsidedly. "Whenever you're ready." He said, and earned a cuffing on the back of the head.

"Mind your manners, you whelp." His gramma said, but was smiling, too. You two should speak to Father Tegmar, if you're serious about such things."

Hyandai asked. "Is he the priest of the One in this town?"

Gramma said. "He is. He is a good man, and will give you both guidance on the matter, I am sure, wise guidance."

They spoke for about an hour after, with Hyandai making sure of her lack of pregnancy by picking up the night-orb twice. It stayed flat and black both times. "Harlen's gramma clucked at her the second time, gently taking it from her fingers. "You stop that, now." She said. "Do not rush yourself."

They stopped by the Pierced Boar on the way home and had wine and some rather bland lamb with potatoes. Tammer was in top form, pouring drinks for the rather dense crowd this night. Harlen noticed a lot of people from out of town among the crowd. "What goes?" He asked the old man, eyeing the newcomers.

"Trouble in the hills north ways." Tammer said. "The orcs have gotten bold up there, and raided some homesteads and even one hamlet, if you'll believe it." He leaned in close. "One of the Duke's patrols captured one of the brutes and they managed to get it to talk. There's rumor among the orcs of a new boss in the hills, and he's organizing them under one banner."

Hyandai looked very nervous. "That does not bode well for my mission." She said. "Those orcs were already organized more than is good for them, if they are becoming more so, slipping past those hills is going to be very hard, indeed."

Harlen nodded. "Well, if they can be sneaked around, I will get us around them."

She touched his arm. "You are certain you can?" She asked.

"No." He said. "But I promised I would help you, and I will."

They finished their drinks in silence, and watched the crowd. Some of the people were quite upset and trying to drown their sorrows in beer, or brandy. They were the ones who lost kinfolk or friends, and Harlen felt pity for them. One looked up at them, though, and saw Hyandai as she brushed her hair back from her face, exposing one of her ears fully. His eyes widened.

Harlen thought he would cry out, but he did not, he came over quietly to their table and begged leave to sit. The hunter, nor the elf could bring themselves to deny someone with such sorrow etched into their face, and they assented.

The man sat, he was older than Harlen, but hardly an old man. His eyes were blue, and he had long, shaggy, brown hair. "Miss." He said. "I saw you're elvenborn." He looked at her hopefully. "May I beg a boon of you?"

She smiled gently and nodded. "If it be in my ability, I will grant it." She said.

The man looked back to the table he was at, a woman stood from there, about his age, and walked over and sat at the last chair at their table. Once she sat, the man asked. "Will you make a dirge for my daughter?" His face was full of both hope and pain. "She was slain yesterday by those orcs in the hills." His wife began to cry openly, weeping and sniffing.

Hyandai smiled gently. "Of course I will, though I am no minstrel and I cannot promise the quality she deserves."

He smiled at her. "You're elvenborn, it will be more than adequate." He said, holding his wife's hand under the table.

Hyandai leaned forward and said. "Look into my eyes, and think of your daughter." She stared intently at the man for almost a minute, then at the wife for a similar time. Harlen was fascinated, watching as she gently probed their minds, not invading it like she had his, but looking here and there, like someone searching a house, rather than moving into it and clearing out all the furniture. She only took what she needed, and it was always just information, not the items themselves.

Finally, she leaned back and said. "Give me a few moments." Her eyes closed and she started moving her lips, as if speaking to herself. She opened her eyes after almost five minutes. "I am ready." She said. She gestured to Tammer, who came right over at her beckoning.

"Yes, Miss Hyandai?" He asked solicitously.

She indicated the couple with a wave of her hand. "These fine folk have asked that I dirge for their daughter, do you mind?" 

Tammer's eyes widened. "I would never." He said, almost looking offended. "If someone deserves a dirge, then by the One, it'll be heard." He stood from their table and yelled at the crowd for silence. The noise abated to about half the former level, but he was obliged to yell again, and employ some rather creative vocabulary to inspire people to the proper level of respectful silence. "You will shut your cob-slobbering yap traps, you smelly lot, else I'll start cracking skulls!" The room was as quiet as anywhere fifty or so people stood in could be.

Hyandai stood from the chair and walked to the bar. Tammer helped her to stand upon it, climbing carefully up. She brushed her hair back from her face, a murmur ran through the crowd. She swallowed visably. "I have been asked by a kind man and his lovely wife to sing a song for their daughter, dead at the bloody hands of the orcs of the hills." She said, looking at the couple. "Some of the elder of you have heard an elven dirge before, and know it is akin to part of the person being sung of. I would ask that you listen and think on the girl that died, and remember her with joy."

The air was dead silent as she finished speaking. Her voice started off low and soft, and her eyes closed. There was a feeling in the sounds she was making. It was not words, for there were no words to describe what she was saying. Her voice climbed slowly and it carried the sense of youth and of innocence and it carried within its tones the horror of the girl's death. She had been only ten, the sound said, and she was not ready to be taken from the world. Her tones filled the room, as if it were a auditorium meant to be sung in. Her voice was powerful, and it gained volume and strength as she sang, and her heart felt the agony of the parents. She had tears rolling down her face as she began to sing of the joys the girl had felt and brought to those around her. 

The people in the crowd could see the child, a little girl with light brown hair and big green eyes. They saw her playing and working and hugging and being loved. Many of the people hearing it cried, some of them smiled, a few actually laughed, watching her learn to walk and watching her get her first kiss stolen from her by a boy from the next farmstead. They even felt the discipline of her being punished for being bad, and rewarded when she did well. The dirge left no subject of her short life untouched completely, and took the listener into the girl's life, not just the good, but the bad, and the unfortunate, and the ecstatic. They saw the mother holding her to her breast, and the father seeing her for the first time after her birthing. The notes carried all this, the tones defined it, and the harmonics gave it sharpness. It wound its way into the listeners' hearts and pierced them, and filled them with both joy and grief for the life cut short.

She began to wind down the song, and the images became more nebulous, and indistinct. A vague image of a young woman, standing in a field, tall and pretty, and with light brown hair, and green eyes, and a wide smile, a woman that might have been. She ended on a long note that emptied the scene, and everyone saw the room form around them again.

Tammer was the cagy one, and he knew what to expect next. As Hyandai collapsed, he caught her in his still strong arms, and brought her down from the bar and sat her on her chair. "It takes it out of them to do that." He said, and looked at Harlen. "She'll be fine in a few minutes, but she may be tired the rest of the evening."

Her golden eyes fluttered open a few minutes later, and she smiled faintly. "I should have warned you about that." She said to Harlen. "At elven funerals there are ushers who stand by just for that." She looked at the couple. "Thank you." She said to them.

They were both beaming happily. "Why do you thank us?" The man asked. "It was you who granted the boon." He added.

She smiled at them. "But you asked it of me." She replied. "You wanted me to do it, and it was an honor." She patted Harlen's worried hand on her shoulder. "You honored me by trusting me with her memories."

The crowd was quiet still, murmuring here and there, and mostly just drying tears and several fathers felt the urge to leave, to go home and be with their families. Harlen, himself, wanted to check on Trevir as he sat. The couple thanked her again and went out the door, to wherever they would stay the night.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 10



Hyandai rose a few minutes later, and said. "I would go home now, my lover, if we may." She looked exhausted, her eyes had dark blotches under them, a thing he had never seen before. He put an arm around her waist, and helped her home, gently. She collapsed on the bed upon reaching it, and fell asleep before even removing her clothes. Harlen laid beside her and embraced her until sleep took him, as well. 



The Solitary Arrow Ch. 11



Hyandai awoke early the next morning, and slipped from bed quietly. She had told Trevir to start the bath to warming early and then to go see his mother, than she and Harlen wished a day of privacy. The lad had seemed suspicious, but agreed. She padded down the stairs and to the bathing room. The tub was steaming with heat, and she slowly eased herself into it, the water was very hot and she enjoyed the warmth it fed her. She selected her oils and soaps carefully, not wanting to wash away the cinnamon scent that Harlen seemed to relish. Halfway through the bath, she realized how excited she was, her hands were shaking, and her breath was already short.

She smiled as she washed and oiled herself, thinking that soon, she and her beloved man would be able to make love, finally. She got out of the tub and finished oiling her lower half. The scar on her thigh was minuscule now, and she did not think it would become a real scar, or if it did, it would be nearly unnoticed unless someone were being pretty intimate with her.

She slowly crept back up the stairs and peered into the bedroom. Harlen was still sleeping, and was now curled into a ball himself, without her to keep him more open as he enwrapped her in his sleep. She sat gently upon the bed and stroked his hair. This was her man, she thought. He had sacrificed for her, risked his life for her, and been wounded for her. She felt her heart clench in her chest as she thought that she had almost lost him, that day with the orcs, as she had lost her maidenhood. He was beautiful in his slumber, his face at peace and his mind resting. 

She had promised him herself, and was glad she did. He was a good man, despite his own beliefs on the matter, and he deserved someone's love. The girl considered herself fortunate to be the person who was now charged with giving it to him. She slowly leaned over his head, brushing his hair back from his earlobe.

"Harlen." She whispered, incredibly quietly. "Awaken, my lover, and take what is yours."

His eyes flickered open, then his blue eyes focused upon her golden ones. He smiled softly. "Good morning, Hyandai." He said, whispering himself.

She kissed his brow, then his cheek. "I am yours, my beloved. This morning and for all that may follow." He lips were feather light in their caresses. She did not have any urgency in them, he felt that, she meant this to take a very long time, and he did not mind that.

He reached one hand from beneath the covers and touched her fiery red hair. "You've bathed." He said. "I should, as well."

She shook her head slowly. "No. My lover. I would have you as you are, I wish no pause in this today, no chance of interruption or mishap. For, I have waited as long for this moment as you have, and I will wait no longer, if I do not have to."

He lifted his head from the pillow and kissed her, touching her soft lips with his tongue. "You are my goddess." He said, softly and ran his fingertips down from her shoulder to her elbow. "I don't know I could ever be truly worthy of the gifts you offer."

She giggled a little. "If you, Master Harlen, were not worthy, then I would not be here now, offering myself fullwilling." She laid down beside him, and started pulling down the covers. "This morning you will make me into the woman I wish to become."

Harlen sat up and looked down at her now reclining form, so long and lithe, and with such perfect proportions. She was tiny, indeed, but she was exquisite, like a diamond or a elven-wrought blade. He touched her hair, and began tracing his fingertips down her body, sliding over smooth, oiled skin, over the curve of her shoulder, then the softly rounded mound of her breast, with its stiffening nipple. Then he explored further, across the rippled landscape of her stomach, so tensed, it actually quivered a little at his touch, then lover, past the two small halves of her mound, split with a shallow ravine. His fingers explored her completely, moving back up and starting over and finding new paths. She started to heat up under the steady stimulation of the touches. He could see her eyes softening further, and her glances become more intense at the same time. As his fingers slipped between her trim, well-muscled thighs, she moaned, and spread them apart slightly, welcoming his touch. Her mouth had a faint smile as he let one finger explore into her inner places, moistening itself with her fluids and probing her soft folds both outside and in.

She moved her own hand over his, pushing it gently to her, and holding it in place. Her eyes regarded him with intensity, but not urgency. "Explore me, my lover." She said, as he slid the finger in deeper, and felt her warmth and wetness, she was very slippery inside, and he knew that entering her would be no trouble, at all, so long as he was not too large. She gasped and her legs moved farther apart when he curved that finger and rubbed the back wall of her vagina, then his thumb touched the fold of skin over her clitoris, not exposing the tiny button, but just pressing over that skin, rubbing it through its protective hood. He smiled down as she groaned again, and her hand seemed to urge more depth, and he pushed deeper. Her other hand had found his manhood and was caressing it, her own fingertips moving softly and cooly on his skin. It was his turn to moan as she finally took hold of it, and her fingers squeezed it tightly. Her small thumb slipped over the head, from beneath, and rubbed up over the tiny slit opening, and it felt moisture there, his own precome. His organ was as stiff as a stone pillar, and her opening was as well lubricated as it was ever likely to get.

"Now, that it has come to it, I am somewhat afraid." He said, sliding his finger from her. "I wish to not hurt you."

She smiled a wide open smile. "Then go slowly, but you must go, or the pain I will bear from this bed will be great." She touched his face. "Take me now, my lover, I will wish to wait no longer to feel you take my maidenhood from me."

He moved over her, using his well-developed arms to hold his upper body off of her small frame. Her legs parted farther, and he moved close. He could feel her silky skin on his sides, where her thighs rubbed his hips. In this position, her head was just below his own, and she could easily kiss him or put her lips to his neck. For now, she did neither, just watching him with eyes wide and deeply bronze. The engorged head of his organ was at her entrance, and she quivered slightly at its touch. He felt her push upward a little with her hips, she was eager for this now.

The look on her face lost its placidity, and was now very alert. "Is this my love or her fey?" He asked her.

Hyandai took in air, and said. "We are both here, my beloved, for one is naught without the other." Her voice had a somewhat eerie sound to it, like two voices, almost, very similar, but subtly differing. One had only love in its tone and the other had only lust. She pulled his head down to her, with a gentle touch and the edge of her nails, ever so softly caressing his neck. She kissed him deeply, probing his mouth with her tiny tongue, tasting him, and entering him. As if a cue, he pushed down with his hips a little, feeling her labia part for him, and she sighed into his mouth. He could feel jolts of pure energy shooting through his body, from every point of contact between them, they drove to his mind and then fired outward, like an explosion, filling him all over with pleasure and warmth.

Inward he pushed a tiny bit more. He wanted to enjoy each level of entering her for the first time, and did not wish to rush this. The glans of his organ stretched the tight ring of muscle within her and he could feel it squeezing, unaccustomed to the penetration. Her breath was coming in tiny gasps now, and he could see a bit of anxiety in her bronze eyes. Her whole body was trembling, as if she were cold, and her mouth was open. He swallowed, and slipped another bit into her, the muscle ring was fully pierced now, the head of his organ actually felt the subtle pop of it passing the entry. Her brow furrowed slightly and the look of fear intensified, and a low groan, along with a cut off sound of minor pain.

"I'm hurting you." He said. "Should I stop?" He had stopped moving, and a few seconds later, her face regained its calm.

She smiled up at him, and touched his cheek. "It will avail us little, my lover." She giggled, but her face was still lined with concern. "You will be just as large and I will be just as small tomorrow." Her hands felt along the muscles of his chest. "My body has reacted to the attack as an injury, and it has healed it, but it has left me as a maiden, in truth." She touched his neck. "An elven girl must accept some small pain to betroth a human." She said, her eyebrows furrowing deeper as she adjusted beneath him.

"I could try to arouse you more." He said, thinking furiously of how to avoid hurting her.

She giggled and looked at him with a truly relaxed face. "My cold bottom says I am plenty aroused." She said, giving in to a bit of naughtiness. "We will need to change the sheets after, my lover." She closed her eyes a moment, and seemed to think hard, her brow furrowed more deeply than before, then she opened her eyes again, and she swallowed. "Enter me fully." She said, and took hold of his hips with both hands, and her feet came around him and locked behind his bottom. "Either you do it or I will."

He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes. She felt him tense for a thrust, and relaxed herself as completely as she could to accept it.

He pushed forward and down, and his organ, held in a silken grip with oiled slickness, slipped into her, until his body was touching hers. Her legs clamped around him, and held him to her, and she shouted out, releasing all the air in her lungs in one burst of sound. He opened his eyes, and she was looking at him gently again, her eyes soft and placid. "Sorry, but we had to get past that." She said. "And sometimes I need help with my courage." She was breathing shallowly, panting actually, and her body was now covered in a sheen of cinnamon-smelling perspiration.

He looked down, and saw their bodies converging at the middle, his pubic hair pressed to her mound. She looked down, too, and smiled. "There." She said, then looked back up at him. "Now, my lover, earn that name, and grant to me mine."

He shifted his weight, and she loosened her legs, letting her feet move to the bed again, with her knees bent, her face went through a few contortions with the legs, as his angle of entry to her changed. "By the Spirits, you humans are big." She said, shifting her hips a little, and gasping with every few small motions. "I feel like I'm being spitted for a roast."

Harlen kissed her brow. "If you wish to stop, I will." He said.

She shook her head vehemently. "No." She said. "This is working. It is not so painful, it is more just surprising. I knew your size, but I never fully realized what it meant. Despite my own opinions at worldliness, I am a novice in this."

He pulled about halfway out and entered her again, slowly, and she groaned and inhaled deeply until he was fully within her again, then she let that air go. He could feel her tight muscles in her vagina contracting around his pole and pulling it inward. Her body was not trying to be rid of him, it was encouraging him.

He pulled out again then reentered, and began to stroke that way with a slow, steady rhythm. Her breath gasped out of her with each entry, but the sounds were less and less pained, and more and more satisfied and then pleasurable. He felt the muscles around his shaft relax their grip a little, and her hands began to move again. She brushed his hair from his face and pulled herself up to kiss him, lifting her upper half off the covers. He gently moved his tongue into her mouth and felt her suckle on it gently. He noticed she was using suction and pressure to move his tongue in and out of her mouth at the same times he was entering and pulling from her. She was no longer panting, and was now simply moaning with each entry into her. "The pain is past me, Harlen." She said up to him, smiling broadly in a self-satisfied manner. "Now you can take me as you truly want. I can see it in your eyes."

He pulled to nearly leaving her, then thrust forward with all the strength in his legs and waist. He grunted as he did so, ramming is cock to the hilt into her welcoming entrance. She cried out, saying. "Yes." She accepted his lust now, and he gave freely, driving into her like a mad thing. "Love me!" She cried as their bodies slammed together, sending shockwaves through her and causing her to grunt along with him as she started to lift her hips and angle her pelvis to receive each thrust. "Love me!" She yelled again as she neared her impending climax.

He looked down at her. And her eyes were not bronze, they were deepest emerald, and they seemed to glow in the half light of the room. "I do." He said, thrusting inward, "Love you." He said on the following thrust. Her fingernails were on his back and they were fighting his flesh for purchase, a battle they won, digging into his skin and holding his body to hers as she screamed into his neck, her teeth coming down on his corded shoulder. Her entire body felt like a sheet of metal under him, glowing hot and thrumming with the beat of a hammer. Then she went lax, panting again, and her hips still moving to take him into her as he continued to thrust into her deeply, but the light of lust had left her now deeply green eyes. She was sated, and he could see it.

She seemed to recover from a daze and looked at him softly. "Now, for your joy." She said, and put her hands on his hips, and her feet met on his back again. She was gasping between his thrusts, but seemed to be very intent on something. His penis suddenly seemed twice as long as he knew it was, he felt it moving deeper and deeper into the willing lover beneath him. And he felt his muscles in his groin tighten, preparing to spill his seed into her. As he came, he realized she had been doing it with her muscles inside, moving them opposite to his penetrations, making it seem like he was sliding over more passage than was there. He could feel the liquid jets of his semen flooding into her as he kept thrusting into her opening. She moaned with each jet, not with each thrust, and he knew she felt them fully, and liked them. "I heard that witch say she welcomed your seed to her." She said, whispering into his ear as he kissed her neck. He looked at her curiously for a moment. "I welcome your seed into a fertile womb, my beloved." She said and ran another slow pulse of contractions along his shaft, as if milking him for his seed.

He slowed his thrusts, then stopped, kissing her. He began to pull his organ out, to give her a rest, but she stopped him with her feet, clamping down on his rump and making him stay still. "You think you are done?" She said. Smiling sweetly at him.

"Well, I kind of..." She kissed him roughly and her tongue parted his lips. He could feel her breathing into him, her exhalation sweet with energy and excitement. He blinked a few times, and felt his cock stiffen again, filling her vagina and opening her wide again. 

She moaned as she felt it grow, then looked at him with half-lidded eyes. "I told you the elves taught the Sorceresses how to do their magic." Hyandai said, eyeing him with her deep emerald orbs. "I never said they had bettered it."

He laughed and started to push into her again. The lovers held onto each other and enjoyed their passions for a long while. She did not test him, as the witch had, but she did make pleasant use of his body, as he did hers. Every time he flagged, she breathed energy into him, refilling his lungs with her magic, and her lusts. As he spent into her a fifth time, he thanked her fey for that ability, for she claimed that was where that particular talent lay.

Hyandai said, as they laid, both exhausted fully now, "My fey will not let a man's inability stand in the way of its goals." After he had asked why she could do what she had been doing after each passionate grapple. Her eyes were deep green now, and seemed to be wont to stay that way. Unlike the few times they had dallied with one another with hands and mouths, the color held fast.

"You said that could last days?" He asked, looking at her eyes closely.

She nodded, and laughed. "Or weeks." She said. "It matters how much joy I've had, and the depth of that joy." She looked askance at his flaccid manhood. "And your joy was deeply placed indeed." She said, grinning at him.

He said. "You seemed to get used to it." His smile was equally broad, and somewhat lopsided. "At least you acted like you were."

She nodded. "I was, and am now." She said. "So long as we never go long between our lovemaking, it should cause me little pain."

One of his eyebrows lifted. "How long?" He asked, suddenly slightly worried.

She kissed his broad shoulder. "A few days, say three." She said.

He put his hands behind his back. "That won't be an issue then." 

She started laughing. "How long were you afraid it would be?" She asked.

"I don't know, I feared it might be a period of hours, like half a day." He said, eyeing her.

She smiled. "Would you make love to me that often if it were required?" She asked, nuzzling his neck.

He looked down at her pretty green eyes and her lustrous hair, and her lovely figure, and smelled her strong scent of cinnamon. "Even though it would mean a large change to my lifestyle, I would certainly try."

She nodded soberly. "A large change, hmm?"

He grinned lopsidedly. "Yes, but I can cut back to that, it won't hurt me much."

She laughed and poked his ribs with a fingernail. "Cut back?" She cried out. "I will make you eat those words, human." She said, laughing. She rolled over and sat atop him, straddling his wide waist with her slim legs. She could not even reach the bed with her knees from atop him, but she did not let that daunt her, she shifted her knees to rest on his body instead. They pressed to the sides of his stomach and lower chest. She leaned over him and kissed him again. "Time again, my beloved." She whispered, and he felt her feed him energy again.

He grinned up at her. "Atop me this time?" He asked. "You are feeling adventurous."

She returned the grin and reached behind her as she lifted her pelvis from him. "You promised me this one." She said, and started pushing downward.

He felt his penis encounter something stiff and unyielding, then it yielded, slowly opening to him. She had not aimed him for her vagina, well ready for him, but instead had positioned him to push into her tight anus. Her brow furrowed again, as it had earlier. "Are you sure you want..." He said and she glared at him with those presently bright green eyes, silencing him. She inhaled deeply and straightened her body out, sitting upright with the head of his organ barely opening her tight sphincter.

She closed her eyes and let her weight carry her down, she dropped to his body in a single second, his stiff pole buried in her backside. Her groan was one of pain and pleasure colliding and entwining like serpents mating. The sweat coating had returned as she drove her body past a painful point again, and into the place she wanted it. Her breathing was gaspy and had tiny moans and grunts layered into it. A long moan escaped her lips as she began to rock back and forth, slowly at first, but then with more speed as she became used to the feeling of being opened in this new way. Each time his cock slipped into her tight ring, she exhaled, then inhaled slowly as she slid forward, letting part of it leave her. He reached down between her smooth thighs and brushed his finger over her clitoris, causing her to gasp and look at him, she nodded, and leaned back a little to give him access to that.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 11



He started stroking the little button, and watched as she rocked back taking his whole length into her, her muscles were not as finely tuned back there, but the opening was tighter, and could clamp down much harder, as she demonstrated as she ground herself into a painful and slow orgasm. When it was done with her, she collapsed onto his chest. She laid there panting, his thick pole still impaling her anus, and spreading its tight little ring open wide. She reached back and felt around it and said. "That was a bit foolish of me." She smiled at Harlen. "I may walk oddly later, you are not to laugh." She said, then lifted up and off of his still rigid cock. A look of utter relief crossed her face when it was out of her. "Well, that was definitely different." She said, smiling at him. She stood up and held out her hand. "Come, my lover."

He walked downstairs with her, and despite her claim, her walk was anything but humorous. He followed her slowly swaying bottom down the stairs, admiring the grace and intentionally wasted energy that went into that walk. It was a gait designed to arouse, and entice, and it worked perfectly, his cock stayed rigid for the trek to the hot bath, and as they slipped into the water, she washed it gently with her hands, then rinsed it with hot water.

She said. "Sit on the edge, my beloved." And Harlen sat up on the lip of the massive wooden tub. She stood between his knees, dangling into the water, his organ stiff in his lap. She moved forward and took him into her soft mouth, crouching low in the water. He watched in fascination as she took him down her throat, straightening her long, slim neck. Soon, his pubic hairs tickled her cute nose, and she started to move her head back and forth. He groaned loudly as she swallowed him whole each time, then felt his release building up for a climax. She soon had him coming into her, and seemed well satisfied with herself as she drank the last drops of his spend. She looked up at him, her tongue gently licking her soft lips. "Now, I think we are done for the morning." She declared. Kissing the head of his deflating pole. "Lest you desire another go?"

He shook his head. "I will do what you wish in this matter, Hyandai." He said, lifting her and kissing her deeply. He tasted his semen in her warm mouth, but minded it little, she seemed little hesitant of tasting herself, either. They then embraced for a long moment, gazing into one another's eyes. Her eyes were somehow more beautiful now than when their hue was golden. She smiled a soft smile, softer than he had ever seen.

"I hope that you are not only fascinated by what you think is my elven beauty." She said to him. "I have no intent of letting you go from me." She added, smiling up at him.

He kissed her brow then said. "I think my feelings for you are beyond that, my sweet angel. The first days, I may have been smitten with your grace and loveliness. But have I not now seen you in darker light, and less than idyllic situations?"

She kissed his neck. "You have, Harlen, and you have not forsaken me, even then." She pulled him into the water, and kissed him, sliding her small tongue into his mouth. He felt her playing with his hairs her clever little fingers toying with it. "Do you still wish to betroth me, my lover?" She asked, her tone was now more calm, and delivered with a precision she had been slipping of late, her speech was more and more sounding like his own.

He said. "Yes. Of course I do, Hiandai." She smiled, then he felt a small twinge of pain at his scalp. He reached up and found her fingers there, and they were warm, exceedingly so. He pulled his hand back down. "What was that?" He asked her.

She pulled away from his face and he looked at her. To the left of her beautiful face was a long plait of woven hair, her lovely sunburst red was interwoven with strands of his own dark brown color. She held in her hand another plait, this one his own, and made up mostly of the dark brown, with strands of her red woven into it.

"Are we..." He started asking.

She kissed him. Then pulled again from his kiss. "Yes, my betrothed." She said. "For one year and one day, I am obliged to remain by your side, and you mine."

"What then?" He asked.

She touched her plait, "Then this will either come out or become part of me forever." She said. "We will decide one year and one day from now."

He nodded, pretty certain what his choice in that matter would be. She felt his large hands wrapping about her slim waist. "I would today, if you would allow me to." He said.

She giggled. "I cannot, though, the betrothal is an important stage toward marriage." She said, touching the plaited hair on the side of her head, then lifting it to look upon it. "Our hair blends beautifully, though." She said, a smile playing on her face. As they left the tub, exhausted and hungry, she touched his back gently. "I hope you never feel you have made a mistake." She said.

"I will not, my betrothed." He said, smiling at her over her shoulder. Then he turned about and knelt before her. Taking her small, slender hand he kissed her palm and said. "I would be and am honored to be your betrothed, even should you choose not to wed me, ultimately."

She touched his face, and knelt down in front of him, their faces nearly level with one another. "I do not foresee me selecting that option." They went to the kitchen and found a huge bowl of fruit, already peeled and diced into cubes. Trevir had wakened early this morning, and had left them breakfast.

As they ate the fruit squares and wedges, they talked about many things, including the upcoming year, and Trevir's obvious love for both of them.

The sun was shining this morning, and the beams played games amidst the dust motes in the room, sparkling like miniatures of the night sky. It was after three in the afternoon. She sat and watched him fidget a moment, unsure of what to do. "Harlen, do you wish to go work?" She asked. He nodded pitifully.

She smiled widely at that. "Go then, my betrothed." She giggled. "I can entertain myself for a while." He sheepishly got up and shuffled to his workshop. She shooed him with her hands, still laughing. After he had entered, she rose from the stool and walked through the bathing room, then into the back yard. As she crossed the small courtyard, she tried to clear her mind. She walked up to the small altar that Trevir had built for her.

She knelt before it, and touched her hands to the altar. Her eyes shut in the effort to clear her mind, then she started to sing. This song was very different from the others she had performed of late, its tones ethereal and otherworldly, almost not like a humanoid voice at all, but the sounds one might hear when in a windy night in the wood, or perhaps surrounded by whistling wind chimes. It reached a tonal quality that filled the yard and reverberated from the trees and buildings around her. Her body stiffened as the Spirits took hold of her, and guided her mind to the places she needed to find. Had Harlen been with her, he would have recognized her expression from their lovemaking sessions. She was feeling intense pleasure, but not sexual, it was a spiritual pleasure, a release of guilt and anxiety and hostility at the world that had placed her at an impasse, where she must choose to risk the life of the man she loved or give up her clan's hope of recovering what they lost, and sorely needed.

The Spirits showed her many things in her mind, all things she already knew and needed reminding of. They could not show her new things, nor things she would see in the future, only what she had already known, but somehow had not put to the front of her mind. Harlen's attempts at heroism for her benefit flashed across her mind. He as a competent fighting man, but untrained in the finer points of combat. He also had a fierce pride and independence that he was suppressing to make her happy and give her solace. She knew he loved her fully, and with all his large heart, and he would die for her if need be. That is what she dreaded. The spirits faced her with the witch, and of him bedding her in her mind's eye, and of his attempts, even under her spells to try to do the best he could in being fair to Hyandai, who at that moment, seemed to have abandoned him in him befuddled mind.

She then saw him hunting, a scene she had never seen, but knew had happened in his past, he was a hunter after all. Her imagination had little trouble conjuring up such an image as that. He was a huntsman, after all, and his skill at that seemed excellent, indeed, as his wealth, despite giving a goodly share to Trevir and his mother, attested to. She realized with a shock that she had not been the only person not doing what they should within this scenario they were thrust into, but he was, as well.

His nature was a huntsman, a stalker and efficient killer, not a warrior and defender. Their path was chosen in that flash of insight, and she hardened her heart to the fears that still lingered. They cried that he might be killed, and she replied that he might be killed any time by a bear, wolf, or bandits. No the fears and doubts could not be given sway on her choice. This was the man the seer had seen in her visions, and Hyandai was the woman, and they were to win the Elhadrel from the clutches of whomever had stolen it. This last secret she must confess to her mate now, she thought, that she knew how to find the weapon, and had always known. 

She gracefully rose from her kneeling position and gave deep thanks to the Spirits for guiding her, bowing low to the altar. She turned and walked into the house again, her head now high, and her gaze purposeful. Harlen was hunched over his work bench, working at something with intense concentration. As she walked up to him, he turned to her, he had dressed again, at least he had donned pants. As she neared him he turned and said. "Turn about, my lover." She stopped flat for a moment, then turned and put her back to him. He draped the object he had been sewing over her shoulders. It was a cloak, made from supple doeskin, and lined on the inside with the green cloth he was going to make her other garments from. The skin had been died a similar shade of green and was designed with intentional discolorations in it to break up its even shade. "It will help you to blend into the bushes in the wood." He said. She had seen cloaks like this, worn by the scouts of Windir, but theirs relied upon magic and she had never seen one made without its inclusion. She looked over her shoulder at it, and the subtle pattern seemed to shimmer as she looked, changing. Her eyes did not like to focus upon it. 

Her expression changed to one of perplexity. "What is this, my betrothed." She asked. "I was given to understand you knew no magics, yet you weave them into this cloak?"

His expression now changed. "What?" He said. "There is no magic upon this, Hyandai, It is just my hands, and some tricks of the eye that I learned at Tammer's 'gentle' hand."

She laughed at that. "My dear man, there is magic and there is magic." She lifted the cloak from her shoulders. "There is enchantment on this fine garment." She concluded, holding it out to look at it at arm's length. She could see how the little patches were sewn to throw the eye into different directions by the grain of the leather, and the color of the dye, and the very shape of the little shapes that formed the overall cloak. She smiled at him. "The magic here is the most powerful sort there is, it makes the mind ensorcel itself, and bewilders the eye without the mind being able to stop it."

Harlen laughed now. "Tammer called it 'optic deception.'" He pointed to an identical, but larger cloak hanging on the wall. "If we're to go through orcish country, I wish no more accidental encounters." He took the cloak from her fingers and did something to it, flipping it inside out, and the inside was done up in similar shades of gray and earthy brown. "When we enter the hills, we change to this." He explained as he let her examine it, as well.

She smiled. "That is what I came here to speak of." She said. "I wish to tell you I know how to find that which I seek, if not exactly where."

His expression again changed to one of curiosity. "And how is that?" He asked.

Her necklace appeared again. "This guides me in it, it can feel our clan's heirloom and tells me if I face toward it." She held it out from herself, then turned slowly, until she faced just north of east. "It lies that way." She said. "A good fifty miles from here, but in that direction.

He nodded. "That will be far into the mountains." He said. "You are certain of this?"

She touched his hand. "Yes, Harlen, I am certain. Are you certain you wish to risk all on some heirloom of an elven clan?"

He grinned. "I've risked all for less, already. This is a cause worthy of risk." He said. "I accept the danger freely, especially considering the prize that your clan has graced my life with." He smiled, then kissed her gently.

"When do you wish to leave?" He asked her, a wide smile on his face.

She looked at him curiously. "The day following tomorrow?" She replied, but said it as if not really sure.

He nodded. "Very well, then, I will begin preparation for our little journey." He bowed to her like a servant and went to his task of packing small items into his small leather knapsack. He produced a second sack, slightly smaller than his and made the same, and newly crafted. He directed her what to load into it, handing her some of the items she would need. It was amazing the sheer number of small items he directed into her pack. She wondered idly if there would be anything left in the house when they were finished.

While they were packing Trevir came running in. "They're mustering the army!" He said excitedly. "The duke is going to go to war with the orcs, he says that they're growing too bold and must be dealt with."

Harlen got a very sour look on his face. "It's about time." He muttered, and Hyandai flinched at the cold and dark tone of his voice.

"They're to march in the hour, and will be passing this way, Harlen." The child continued, undaunted by his mentor's sudden foul mood. "We should go watch them march by."

Harlen nodded. "I suppose we should see the lads off, since some won't come home." He looked at Hyandai. "We leave this afternoon, then." He said to her.

She tilted her head and regarded him. "Why so soon?" She asked.

He nodded toward the village. "If we follow in the path of an army, we should come across fewer orcs." He said. "And the ones we might come across will be bunched into large groups and more easily avoided." He added. Then started dragging out more of his 'work' gear, his rawhide jerkin and heavy linen pants and his brown leather boots, all cleaned now, and mended of their rents and tears. He also laid out their new cloaks.

Trevir ooh'ed at the cloaks and said. "Those look like the one's that Tammer sells to the hunters, Harlen, only they're prettier." He looked at one appreciatively, touching the leather and examining the stitchwork closely. "You made these!" He exclaimed, inordinately excited about it. "You're turning form a hunter to a tailor." He accused, smiling broadly.

"Only to make a hunting tool, Master Trevir." Harlen said. He handed the boy a small pouch of silver. "Keep the house well while we are gone. I know not how long we will be." He finally added. "If we are gone more than a month, speak to Tammer of it, and he will give you further instructions."

The boy nodded soberly. "All right Harlen." He said, and there were tears welling in his green eyes. Hyandai walked to him, and looked him face to face. "Fret not, handsome Trevir." She smiled at him gently. "We will return soon." She kissed him softly on the lips, and embraced him. Harlen patted his shoulder as he passed, and the two headed out to watch the parade, then to leave themselves in its wake.

They heard the tramp of many feet as they left the house, and the vanguard of the army was marching past the house as they reached the fence separating his yard from the gravel of the road. There were over a thousand of them, wearing the colors of the Duchy of Morrovale, purple and gold. Banners flew before each of the five companies, flapping loudly in the northerly wind. Harlen placed his hand upon his chest as they passed and bowed his head. Many soldiers nodded as they went by, and the ones who realized they looked upon an elven lass waved at her. Hyandai waved back and smiled, then bowed onto one knee for the passing soldiery. Harlen pulled Trevir down beside her.

"Why am I bowing?" He asked his mentor.

Harlen whispered. "To pay respect to those who may die defending you from the orc hoards."

The lad nodded soberly at that. "Oh." He said quietly, with wide eyes. "Why aren't you on one knee, then?"

Harlen smiled. "I've earned the right to stand before soldiers, I was one, once." He said.

The troops filed past, then the cavalry. Followed by the Dukes knights, thirty men, clad in fine, gleaming plate armor, mounted on massive shaggy horses with their own armor cladding as well. Harlen now knelt beside Trevir and Hyandai, as he was no equal of a knight in status.

The knights smiled as they rode past, speaking at ease with one another. One saw Hyandai kneeling there by the fence and pulled to the side of the moving line. "Milady." He said, a tone of alarm in his voice. "Surely, you need not kneel to mere knights, you are elvenborn."

She looked up to him. "I am but a commoner, I am betrothed to this man, and would not presume to rise above my station." She nodded toward Harlen.

The knight smiled down. "If you wish to pretend so, then." He said, and chuckled. "But I would say that in this case, rather than lowering your station, milady, which I am unsure is possible, you have elevated his." He leaned over in his saddle to an angle that looked dangerously precarious. "Congratulations, Master Harlen, she is a fine catch of a woman, I envy you." He said to the huntsman.

Harlen nodded and smiled. He reached out and took Hyandai's hand and said. "Thank you Sir Tendall, I consider myself very lucky, indeed." Harlen said, with no sound of lightness in his voice.

Tendall nudged his warhorse into a trot and caught up with the other knights.

Now passing was the Baron Upton. He was the most strategic-minded of the Duchy's nobility, and Harlen was relieved to see him in charge of this expedition. As the baron rode past, equipped, like his knights, in shining plate armor, he stopped as well, regarding the kneeling trio. "Harlen!" He said. "Please do not tell me that you have captured that lovely creature on one of your hunting foreys!"

Harlen glanced over to Hyandai who was looking rather amused. He looked up. "Milord, actually, I did." He said, squeezing her hand gently. She giggled

The baron laughed, then said. "We shall have to raise the rates on your hunting territory if such game can be snared there." He regarded Hyandai a moment. Of what clan are you, milady?" He asked.

She looked up timidly and said "Yavanour, milord." She said quietly.

The baron sat quietly a moment then said. "I see. Well, wish me well, I go to rid our lands of those troublesome vermin of orcs."

She smiled at him. "I do so, milord, I wish you all speed and grace of arms to triumph over your foes."

He nodded. "Well said. Good day." Then he spurred his warhorse, as well, and trotted off to catch up with his household guard.

Harlen watched the line of troops recede into the distance then turn the bend in the road. He turned to Trevir. "Remember, take good care of the house, and go to Tammer if we're over a month in returning."

The boy said. "I will, Harlen, stay safe." He said and hugged the man's waist.

"I'll try, you worthless whelp." Harlen said, and Hyandai saw the tears that he refused to shed, and let a few roll down her cheeks for his sake.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 11



She wiped under her eyes and hugged Trevir, as well, and kissed his cheek. "I will keep him safe." She said to the lad who smiled and nodded.

The couple walked down the lane, following the path of the army. They held hands as they walked on the road and carried their bows slung over their shoulders. Trevir noted that they walked very slowly, as if not really wanting to go, but they went anyway, and soon they had followed the column of soldiers around the bend and were lost from sight to the lad.



The Solitary Arrow Ch. 12



Hyandai and Harlen followed the marching army for some miles before the army had veered off the paved road. Obviously they had slowed their pace, as well. Harlen saw them ahead, a drawn out and ragged line of troops now. Marching four abreast through woods was not easy and they had quickly given it up, moving instead in small clumps of men generally heading eastward.

The couple attracted a little attention from one of the smaller groups, but were quickly questioned then ignored. The sergeant saying that he would not be responsible for their safety. Harlen nodded in agreement and they all pressed onward. As night closed in on the army, it formed up into a ragged circle around the Harlen's mood was good as he built a small fire just outside the western edge of the circle. Several soldiers wandered over to their little camp to sit and speak with the elven woman, and ask for her blessing in the upcoming battle.

"Why do they think my touch is a blessing?" She asked him after another small group of men smilingly left their camp with her head cocked in curiosity.

Harlen shrugged. "Elves have always been good luck. So the legends say." He said, smiling at her. "I feel very lucky that you're with me."

She gave him a pleased look, but with an edge of sadness. "I wish I was good luck." Said Hyandai. "Then perhaps you would not have nearly been killed, then seduced into slavery."

He chuckled and came up behind her and pulled her to him. "I have been seduced into slavery, to you." He said into her ear, then began to kiss her neck. She reached back over her shoulder and stroked his cheek, grinning.

"We have more company." she said, giving his groin a gentle nudge with her rump. And he let her go talk to the soldiers, another group of half a dozen.

Soon after that a group of nearly fifty conscripts slowly came over, looking very nervous and hesitant. All the others had been regular troops, full-time soldiery. They stopped about fifteen paces from the camp and one came forward. "Miss Hyandai." He said quietly when he got within speaking distance. "We ask that you bless us, too even if we're not really soldiers." He said, with his hat literally in his hand.

She smiled gently and nodded, and they all queued up passing and receiving her touch to their forehead or cheek. Each moved off after with their head held high and smiling. One man came up with his hands on the shoulders of a very young man. "This is my son, Dannes, he just came of age yesterday and received his summons, Miss." He said. "We'd be honored if you would bless him for this fight."

Hyandai looked back at Harlen and raised an eyebrow. Harlen smirked very slightly and nodded minutely. She turned to Dannes, regarding the strapping, but very frightened youth with her now deep emerald eyes. "Dannes, you will fight with honor, and go home a hero." She said. She took his hands and pulled him to his knees, breaking his father's grip on his shoulders. He looked very confused for a moment, then she leaned forward and kissed him deeply. Grabbing him about the shoulders and running her slim fingers through his hair. She pulled him to his feet as they kissed for almost thirty seconds, and pressed her whole body to him. 

Harlen was amazed that he felt no jealousy at this display of lustful behavior. He supposed that he knew where her heart lay, and that there was enough lust in that little elf to go around quite handily.

When she finally broke the kiss, she ran her hands down from his shoulders and over her quite obvious erection. "And take care not to let this get hurt." She said as her fingers gently slipped over his pants and the swollen cock beneath them. "For some girl will likely seek out its services after you're a hero tomorrow." She concluded. The boy had turned crimson even under the low lighting of the campfire and all the remaining conscripts cheered at Dannes' first conquest of the battle. The last twenty or so passed into the night and Hyandai looked at Harlen.

"Thank you for not being a jealous man." She said, kissing his cheek. "I can't help doing stuff like that. It harms no one and makes everyone, including me, feel good."

He nodded, smiling at her emerald eyes. "I know, my Betrothed." He said. "And I can deal with it well, as I know who's blanket you will share this night."

She grinned and said. "Even after this morning?" She said, raising one eyebrow. Then her face took one of deep consideration. "Well, if my man asks it of me..." She let the sentence drift off into the night.

About thirty minutes passed, and no more soldier came for blessings, and the couple laid down in their blankets. She cuddled up to him, and he said. "I would love to be inside you this night." He said quietly as he kissed her shoulder. "But I fear more people seeking blessings may come to us, and I'm not sure they need quite that much of a blessing."

She giggled and pushed back to him. "If you are certain, my lover." She said, feeling his organ swelling against her backside. She took his hand and placed something cloth in it. He opened the cloth and found it was her loincloth, and it was moist in the middle. "You do what you feel you must." She smiled over her shoulder at him, then wiggled against him a bit before settling.

He reached down under the blanket and caressed her bottom, loving the soft smoothness of her skin beneath his fingers. She squirmed to let him have better access, and he felt the crease between her lobes, and explored into it with his fingers.

She moaned as he found her puckered anus, and gently stroked at it. "I still think that might have been a bad idea." She murmured with a slight grin. "But I sure am glad I did it."

He chuckled and began kissing her neck again, moving her long hair out of the way to give him access to her fair-skinned throat. He felt her hand moving down his belly and then into his trousers, enwrapping his cock's shaft in her cool fingers. He moved one of his own hands down and unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down enough that she had free access to his erect penis. She pushed back as she pointed him forward, and he felt her wet, hot cunt wrap itself around him, then slide up his shaft slowly as she pushed back to him. A small moan escaped her and she shuddered as he finally reached his limit within her. They laid like that, slowly moving him in and out with tiny motions. She let out a few small moans and he sighed quite a lot as he felt her clamp down with her internal muscles. Neither of them climaxed, but they slowly, after an hour, drifted off to sleep with him still inside her.

---

She awoke when his soft organ finally came loose of her body. She moaned at its absence after so long. She looked at the sky, almost three hours past midnight, by the moon. He had been inside her almost four hours. She saw sentinels moving near the large campfires of the soldiers. She found her loincloth lying near Harlen's hand and took it as she rose, his arm sliding off of her as she slipped from him. She put it on and adjusted it then picked up her bow and hyandai. She looked about quickly, seeing that she was unobserved and moved away from their little camp into the woods north of them.

She slipped between the trees and shrubs like an eel, sliding fluidly through the underbrush as she moved away form the camps of the army. She slipped past a large patch of underbrush and found herself staring at a large force of orcs, moving quietly with muffled armor. They were east of her, and moving directly toward the army. With a gasp of horror she started moving back toward the camp, rushing now, and worried that she might be heard. She had to get ahead of the orcs, though, or else they would fall upon the sleeping camp and take them by surprise.

She was an elf now, and her recent epiphany on that matter led her feet and hands. She bulleted through the trees and bushes. Barely disturbing the leaves as she passed. Suddenly, there was an orc before her, blocking her path. He held up a massive cleaver-shaped weapon. "Ho, little elf bitch." He said in the gruff tones of that race. "You thinkin of warnin the huma..." His voice was cut off as she never slowed down, drawing her hyandai and slitting his throat as soon as she was within reach. He had expected her to be stunned or to parley with him, he expected wrongly. He gurgled as he dropped to the ground, trying in vain to keep his blood from flowing forth in a great surge. Hyandai never slowed a bit as she moved toward the camp, with the orcs just a few minutes behind her. She ran at the camp once she broke free of the last bits of underbrush around the largish clearing. A overzealous sentry yelled something and then she felt an arrow pass near her left shoulder. She started screaming.

"Foes approach from the north! To your arms, soldiers of Morrovale!" She shot past the sentry who looked at her, stunned for a moment, as she knocked the bow from his limp fingers. She snatched the horn from his belt and the cord snapped as she kept running. Pressing it to her lips, she blew a long horn call, the call to arms for elven communities. Men began piling out of tents and rolling out of bedrolls and off of blankets. They seemed confused for a brief moment, then the sergeants began to take over. Echoed calls of to arms began to rattle through the camps, and men began donning their armor and picking up weapons in haste. By the time she reached the baron's little pavilion in the middle of the circle, several of the better-drilled units were already forming ranks on the north side of the circle.

It was none too soon, the orcs began pouring from the wood. A small group of sappers grabbed up large wooden tubes and set flame to the bottoms as they pointed them into the sky. Suddenly it was daylight as the mortars boomed and launched bright flares into the night. The orcs flinched at the sudden bright light to their night-sighted eyes. The men were heartened, though, and bows began to sing in the darkness. The flares would hang for only a few moments, but new ones were being launched constantly, keeping the sky lit brightly with their stunning brightness.

The baron came out of his tent and began mustering his knights, forming them into a phalanx and charging to the front to drive a wedge into the orcish line. Hyandai's own bow began to thrum as she fired at orcs almost a hundred yards away that had managed to bypass the main defensive line and were running among the tents seeking stragglers. Soon she saw Harlen, near the front line, hewing a massive orc with the sword he had gotten from the other orcs. She smiled and watched him a moment. "He is a warrior." She said to herself as she watched him do what he did best, which was stalk prey.

He would spy a particularly dangerous orc at some distance, watching for the fell creatures that seemed to be giving the defensive group the most trouble. Then he would move quickly and cunning toward him, striking quickly and delivering a careful killing blow. She glimpsed another orc in the camp itself, and fired an arrow into its chest, and watched it fall.

Within fifteen minutes the orcs fled the battle, suffering great loss from the pursuing soldiery and especially the cavalry, who rode them down in great numbers as they routed.

Harlen finally saw Hyandai, and moved to her. "What happened?" He asked, his face marked with concern. "I awoke with the horn call and you were not with me. I was terrified." He said. She smiled. "I felt something, and had to go look, my betrothed." She said. "The feeling was right." She pointed at the orcs lying scattered on the small field. "They were trying to sneak attack at night."

The baron rode up on his white charger. "Well done, elven lady." He said. "Were it not for you, that band would have done grave damage to our force." His sword was coated in blood, as was his horse up to its neck. "As it is now, only a small number of ours lost their lives this night."

"Still, that is a tragedy." She said, her eyes downcast.

He nodded. "It always is so, in war, lady."

The men were cheering though, heartened by their first victory. And it was caused by their unofficial good luck charm, men were saying, loudly enough for Harlen and Hyandai to hear.

"I only warned you they were coming." She said humbly.

The baron laughed heartily. He was one of those men that thrived on combat, not a bad thing in and of itself. It was like looking at a human with a fey of his own to deal with.

"You did just that, which we would not have known." He said. "Our patrols didn't expect such a large sending this far west, and were taken unawares, apparently. We will be more cautious in the future." He said, eyeing the dark woods suspiciously.

Hyandai nodded. "Please be so." She said. "Scant time was given me to sound the warning, for they move quickly when they seek to strike."

He nodded. "I underestimated their cunning. It will not happen again." The baron said. Then he looked at Harlen. "Protect this lovely creature well, Harlen, for she is a blessing with fiery hair."

Harlen smiled and said. "Would that I could keep her near enough to protect. And I often wonder, when I see her in action who is protecting whom."

The baron laughed heartily at that. "I can see she is no frail waif." He said. "But I meant her heart. Any man in this realm would give all he had for her love after this night."

He rode off to go congratulate his men and distribute praise for individuals worthy of it after the fight. Hyandai seemed very concerned searching through the throngs of men and looking around everyone before her. Harlen finally asked. "What are you looking for?"

She looked back at him, very worried. "Dannes." She said. "I know it is a little thing, but when I kiss someone, I hope they will live out the night." She smiled wanly. Harlen thought he kind of understood. Despite her huge love for him, from all he could tell, when she kissed or touched another, a part of that love was with them also. With that kiss Dannes had become important to her, and she was very worried.

Finally she spied him, standing with his father near some tents. The couple approached them. Harlen noted a change in her walk as she neared the two men, it had more wiggle again, and her stride grew longer. He smiled to see her, without so much as a thought, change into a totally different person as she drew up to them. "Hail Dannes." She said, smiling. "I see you made it through your first battle, though not unmarked." She eyed a deep cut on his meaty bicep.

His father was smiling far too broadly for a normal moment. "Milady, my son has done us great honor, and the baron has granted him his fee and freedom for his actions on the field." The lad beamed.

She smiled at him. "Really? What is it you have done, brave Dannes?"

He looked down, suddenly self-conscious. "I killed a few orcs." He said meekly. The men nearby started catcalling and jeering him.

The father laughed. "A few?" He said with a look of shock on his face. "You slew at least a dozen!" He yelled and the crowd nearby cheered. He looked at Hyandai with his florid face. "He was a madman, milady, our group hadn't formed up properly and he and four other lads held off a small hoard of the fell creatures until we could form up and help them."

She smiled broadly at the lad, but Harlen could see a little brittleness in her expression. She walked to Dannes again. "Well, brave soldier." She said. "You are in need of fresh blessings." and she kissed him again. This time he kissed her back, at least he did more so than the first. She then put her mouth to his ear and said something into it. The crowd was cheering so boisterously that none save Dannes heard her words. His expression changed, though, and his embarrassed smile shifted to a considering one. She pulled back and then took his arm, blowing gently upon his cut, which looked bad, but was actually pretty minor. A few moments later she placed a gentle kiss on the new pink skin there.

She took Harlen's hand and led him from the camp. "What did you tell him?" Harlen asked.

She smiled back at her betrothed. "I asked him that if he goes and does insanely brave acts and then dies, how can I bless him further afterward." She said, then kissed Harlen's cheek. "You are a very patient man, I love you."

The managed to get back to their little camp, unmarred by the battle, save a flare's burnt out husk lying near their blankets, still smouldering. "I've never seen these before." She said, pushing it with the toe of her boot. Harlen nodded. "Since so many races other than us men can see well at night, we have found ways to mitigate that advantage." He said. He picked it up and dropped it into the fire, where it began to curl and wither. "Alchemists make the chemicals that go into them, then men called 'munitioneers' build them. She sniffed the sharp tang of the material used in the flare. "It reeks, but seems to help men at night, which is a boon, I am sure." She said, eyeing the withering husk dubiously.

They took off their weapons, and laid them very close to their sides as they crawled back into the blankets. They were both very tired, and soon slept.

---

They awoke with breakfast being served them by the baron's own cook. "By his grace's name." The cook said, handing each a large platter of delicacies. "He bids you good morning after helping him in his victory last night." They accepted the platters and the cook moved off quietly and back to the main encampment.

Quickly, the couple swapped out foods that each favored, he moved his fruits and vegetables to her platter and she moved breads and meats to his. They ate happily and talked about the night before. He did not bring up her nocturnal wandering again, though, feeling that doing so would show a lack of trust on his part.

After about an hour, the main camp was broken down, and moving eastward, forming into organized ranks again, only broken for trees and large stands of brush that had to be gone around. Hyandai watched the men. "So many humans." She said. "That small ducal army is almost as great as the entire standing army of Windir."

He nodded. "After what I saw you do last night with your bow, and you tell of in the wood." He said. "I doubt you need more than a couple of thousands of warriors to protect your lands."

She smiled. "If that were so, I would not be on my current quest, my lover." She said, a sad look in her eyes. "We are just so few in number, Harlen, we cannot take losses as a group that humans can."

"This is likely true." He said. "We humans are only bested by orcs on our talent for producing offspring." Then he realized what he had just said, and looked to her with worried eyes.

Her face darkened at that thought, but soon it passed.

They hefted their packs and weapons, and set off after the Grand Army of Morrovale, on its march east. After two hours, they left the main dense woods, and entered the scraggly hills. Soon, though, they saw the main orc army. Camped upon the leeward side of a large hill, hundreds of crudely-built tents, and orcs massing on the west side of the camp, forewarned of the army's impending arrival. The number of the orc host looked to be as great if nor more so, than the human forces that marched toward it. Hyandai looked over the army marching toward the main camp of orcs.

"Death will take many this day." She murmured as Harlen watched the army start to form into battle lines.

He had a look of sadness on his face as well. "I'm sure he will work long gathering souls after this fight." He agreed.

They had turned their cloaks inside-outward, and now blended into the gray rocks and dirty outcroppings of the hill country well. They watched in helpless horror as the orc host started marching toward the human army. Hyandai was crying. "Let us move, Harlen, I wish to not see this slaughter."




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 12



Harlen nodded and they moved south a ways and started moving east again. The army had escorted them as far as it could on their quest. As the orc encampment slid past on their left, they heard the clashing of arms and the unmistakable screams of dying men and orcs behind them. It seemed Hyandai shed a tear for every life lost. After three hours, moving stealthily to avoid detection by orc patrols, they started to climb toward a low mountain pass. Harlen stopped and rummaged in his pack, pulling a spyglass from it and removing its leather caps. They were above all but the highest of the hills to their west, and had a excellent vantage over the battlefield. Harlen looked slowly over the smoking and masses of dark spots on the ground behind them. "Morrovale won." He said, smiling with pride. "But it was not a cheap victory." He ammended.

She looked at him with concern written boldly upon her face. "Yes, Dannes lives." He said, handing her the spyglass. She peered through it and he directed her aim. She smiled broadly as Dannes tended his wounded father's arm. He seemed unhurt, but the losses brought another set of tears to her eyes, as she saw hundreds of men among the piles of orcish bodies.

"The orcs must have strongholds up north, they are retreating that way, leaving their vile little camp as plunder, not that it will fetch much loot." Harlen said. "Looks like about thirty of one hundred casualties. Which is not too badly done. The orcs payed dearer for it."

She shrugged. "Death is death." She said. "I wish for none of it, if it could be helped."

He kissed her brow. "It couldn't, in this case." He said, taking the spyglass and carefully recapping it before collapsing it and putting it back in his pack. "Those orcs had to be dealt with."

Nodding agreement, Hyandai turned and began climbing up the steep path again. Harlen looked down into the hills below, and saluted at his fellow men of Morrovale, then followed her.

They had crested the pass about the time the sun fell low enough to cast the hills below in darkness. They watched with interest as the horizon chased them up the mountain shoulders. They had found a out of the way little nook in the rocks to pitch their blanket and were enjoying a moment of quiet before retiring. Harlen sat behind her, and idly stroked her soft hair.

"I know you don't like the ugliness of war, Hyandai, but I am proud of my people for that victory." He said, touching her shoulder.

She looked back at him. "As you should be. They did what needed doing." She said. "That is the fey of man, to do the necessary. It is an obsession with most men."

He nodded and gently kissed her shoulder, smelling of her scent and feeling her soft hair tickling his cheek as the wind caused it to flutter lightly. This wondrous woman in his arms was heartsick over the death of men she did not know. He loved her for that empathy, and feared for her over it. "Do you think you will be happy among men?" He asked, quietly.

She shrugged. "I do not know, my betrothed." She said. "I know I can be happy with one of them." She favored him with a small smile. "But as a whole, they are almost utterly alien to me."

He emphatically agreed with that assessment, nodding eagerly. "I understand that." He said.

The sun had finally set upon their mountain aerie, and they slipped into the blankets. After seeing the carnage of a war, neither felt much like love play, and they just held onto each other, listening to the ancient grumbling of the mountains in their slumber.

---

Harlen awoke to find Hyandai kneeling nude nearby. She was praying, and he left her to it, watching her unobtrusively. She had her face pointed into the skies, and her hands upon her knees as she knelt. She looked to be very happy as she prayed, almost ecstatic. When she rose, she turned her eyes south and east. "We are close now." She said quietly, then looked at him. "Maybe two more days."

He nodded and sat up. She began to dress, covering her lovely form with the doeskin clothing he had made for her. Her expression was determined and somewhat cold. He did not like the latter much, but supposed it came with the former, if her mind was set on something. They ate a quick meal of bread and an apple, then headed onward. The pass was narrow, and they kept their bows strung and an arrow knocked as they proceeded, fearing ambush at any time from the overhanging rocks and cliffs. 

"I've never been this far east before." Harlen said as they trudged over the broken shale of the pass. Hyandai smiled and said. "I have never been so far east, myself." Then she giggled, sending her musical laugh over the stones and lifting Harlen's spirits.

They began to descend the other side of the initial barrier range of the mountains. A narrow, barren valley laid before them followed by another, higher range of mountains. Hyandai pointed a bit southward. "We will have to move south through this valley to a pass farther south." They soon reached the valley floor and looked about them at the rather bleak landscape of rocky outcropping, punctuated by small, stunted shrubs and weeds.

"Lovely place." Harlen said idly. "Perhaps we can build a summer bungalow here."

She smiled at him. "Just what I always sought, a house with no view." He replied.

Her sharp ears heard the orcs long before they were visible. They left the main path and went a ways up a small ravine, drawing their cloaks tight and tossing the hoods over their heads. The orcs passed, a small force, but more than two could deal with, almost twenty of the brutes. One even looked directly at the couple before moving on.

He looked at her while they waited for the orcs to move away. "Do you think the orcs may have your relic?" He asked.

She shrugged. "It would avail them not, except to deny it to us." She said. "But they are as likely as anyone to have it, I should guess."

They finished their southward move, and she directed them east again. "It lies that way."

The sun was failing them in this little valley, and Harlen guided them off the path again, and far into a ravine, where they were around a small bend from the path. They tossed out blankets and laid down, eating their supper quietly.

As full dark stole over the valley, Hyandai climbed atop a large boulder and watched the sky, she called to Harlen, who clambered up after her. They watched as stars fell from the heavens, dozens of them, in ones, twos and threes. She clutched herself to him and smiled at the sky. "It bodes well, my betrothed. The spirits show us the way." She pointed east, where the little trails pointed, one after another.

Harlen nodded agreement, thinking that the One could work just this same way, but he stilled his tongue. She kissed him as he watched the next star fall. He made a fervent wish upon it, and smiled as she probed his mouth with her tongue, and her hands began to move over his body, along with her own breath shortening and becoming more insistent. He enjoyed her aggressiveness this night and she used him well and thoroughly, breathing energy into him twice before her lusts subsided, and her eyes virtually glowed with their greenness. The fell soon after into a very deep sleep.

--- The next day passed quickly, the climb to the pass they sought was steeper than they had thought, and it took much effort to climb, even having to get out ropes and pitons in a few stretches. Shortly after the sun set, they finally crested the pass and looked through the narrow cleft between too high peaks. There was no good place to camp, other than right in the pass, but given the difficulty of their ascent, they figured it was not well-traveled. They were also exhausted by the exertions of the climb, and both fell asleep soon after they ate and laid upon the blankets.

---

The dawn was late in coming, due to low-hanging clouds, or they appeared so from this altitude. The gray rain-laden clouds seemed to scuttle just overhead and they felt impending rainfall. Both pulled their cloaks tight against the breezes that cropped up from the storms, cold and stiff.

They plodded, nursing aches that they had earned yesterday, muscles seldom used were called to duty then, and today they wished to be repaid for their efforts. Harlen smiled as Hyandai attempted to rub her own shoulders, and took pity on her and gave her a quick backrub as they took a break. She moaned quite arousingly at the backrub and they very nearly got sidetracked at that point. 

About midday, or so they judged, they looked out and down into a small valley. In the middle of the valley lay an ancient fortress. From what Harlen could tell it was Syrisian, having seen ruins near Morrovale of their buildings. They did not use stone or bricks, those ancient folk. Their structures were cast of some material akin to mortar and, according to the texts, they were liquid until they were poured into great wooden molds, whereupon it hardened and turned as tough as most stone. It allowed them to build structures of fanciful shapes and unbelievable size. This one was no exception. In much better shape than the small one in Morrovale, this structure towered over two hundred feet over the floor of the valley, with sheer smooth sides and odd fluting on its flanks. The top was crenelated, like a castle, and it had tiny arrow slits set into its sides from about two stories up to five. The material was supposedly a pale gray in color when made, but this building had aged for a very long time, and was nearly black with discolorations. It stood like a black and stricken tooth in a man's mouth. 

They stopped and ate, while Harlen used his spyglass to examine the building. "There are orcs about." He said, finally, with a disgusted sound in his voice. "But it seems not too many, certainly not an army."

She nodded. "The army was in the hills trying to stop me, I know it." She said, looking back west. "Your countrymen took that obstacle out of my way."

Harlen nodded. "It sure seems it. How do you think that whomever rules that tower knows of your coming?" He asked.

Her face darkened again. "We suspect a traitor in our midst." She said quietly. "Do not look surprised. Elves are quite capable of treason, especially those who have a fey given to it." She looked at him with somewhat pained eyes. "Some betrayals are great, others small, some national, some personal."

He kissed her gently. "Stop that." He said, chiding her gently. "I accepted you, even when you told me of your fey. And I do accept it, too. It is part of what makes you yourself, and a part of why I love you."

She smiled bitterly. "Thank you, lover." She said. She looked into the valley. "Do you think we can bypass the orcs and reach the tower?"

He nodded. "I think we can, especially with my magnificently crafted cloaks." He said, grinning broadly and pulling his mottled gray cloak tight about him theatrically.

Hyandai kissed his stubbly cheek. "Of course, my beloved." She said, and patted his shoulder patronizingly. "Your humility is only exceeded by your brilliance."

They waited until near darkness to move from the cover of toward the entrance to the tower. As they neared it, it became much less obvious that they place was occupied. There were great chunks of the stone-like material missing from the walls, and even a few small holes near the ground. They handily eluded the orcs that patrolled the grounds around the fortress, though, and soon found themselves slipping through the gate way arch. The stench of the tower was very orcish in flavor, and they both wrinkled their noses in disgust.

They found themselves in a wide corridor that ran through the tower to the back, and apparently on, even from there, into the mountain that loomed over the massive structure. The corridor was lined with open doorways, that seemed to lead into stables and storage rooms. No horses were housed in these rooms however, and only the ragged bedclothes of orcs or perhaps fell humans could be found in them.

The couple were moving silently now, slipping down the hall as quickly as they dared. They heard gruff voices coming from ahead, and saw shadows playing on the wall opposite of one room. Hyandai jumped into a room off the corridor and Harlen followed her as the voices became distinct, and apparently entered the hallway.

"...humans pushed our boys back, they did." Said the first voice, deep and guttural.

"What do you expect from ragged lads from little holds, hmm?" A second voice said.

The first voice replied. "I expect them to hold their damn line." He chuckled. "But, you're right, they couldn't stop the humans, lets just hope that the bitch doesn't try to get here before we get more boys into position.

Two figures walked past the doorway from the hall to the room they were within. One was a tall brute, like the one that had raped Hyandai, the other much slighter, with ornate tatoos darkening his skin.

"The boss says that she won't." The first voice said. "She's playing house with some human in Morrovale, or so his 'friend' says."

The second one chuckled along with the first. "I'd like to play house with an elf girl for about two days, before she keels over from bleeding all the time." He said, laughing.

They left the tower, still chuckling as Hyandai peered around the corner.

"You think they're talking about you?" Harlen said.

Hyandai nodded. "They have to be." She said, her face marked by deep concern. "I wish I knew who was feeding them information."

Harlen moved into the corridor, now he had his sword drawn, and moved quickly toward the back, where a narrow stair went upward from the left side of the corridor. They ascended the stairs stealthily, coming to another long passage. This one marked by many fewer doorways, and terminating about halfway down in a pair of double doors. They peered around the corner of the stairwell, and saw two particularly large orcs wearing heavy armor guarding the doors. Harlen pulled his head back into the stairwell.

"I take it that the Ehladrel is beyond those doors?" He said, a wry grin on his face.

She rolled her eyes. "Naturally." She said, sheathing her hyandai and lifting her bow off her shoulder. Harlen readied his own bow, and they prepared to shoot the two guards. Harlen looked at her face, it was locked in a rather cold expression, with little emotion in her large emerald eyes. He wondered for a moment if his eyes looked the same.

Harlen stepped into the hallway, bringing up his bow in the same moment. Hyandai was right behind him, leveling her bow at the other orc, and chanting a short incantation. The orcs had no sooner focused on them and started to react when they both fired. Harlen's target was struck in the right shoulder, causing it to cry out in pain, and drop its long warspear. The orc Hyandai was aiming at slammed into the wall with a dull thud and left a bloody trail down it as it slid over the smooth material.

The orc who had taken Harlen's arrow, bellowed in pain and rage, drawing forth a wickedly hooked short sword from its belt and charged at the pair. They both fired again, Hyandai missed her mark, and the arrow struck the wall, shattering with the impact. Harlen's arrow struck home, though, burying itself in the orc's neck, silencing it forever.

However, the damage had been done, they could hear answering shouts from the stairwell, and the stomp of many heavily shod feet. They looked at each other briefly, and bolted for the double doors. They slammed into the heavy doors, and Harlen wrenched at the huge brass ring set in one's center, pulling it open. As soon at there was a few inches between the doors, Hyandai slipped past them, and right after that, Harlen followed, he heard an arrow thunk into the door as he entered the room, already grabbing for the handle on this side, and pulling. The door pulled shut and he looked for latches or something to hold them shut. Set into the floor beneath each door was a hole, about half the diameter of a man's wrist, and a matching ring in the bottom edge of the door directly over it. He looked for the pins that would lock them and saw them sitting on a ledge right beside the door. He managed to drive them home just before someone pulled on the ring outside. Shouts of frustration filtered into the chamber from the hall beyond.

Harlen finally turned to look into what he took to be a large chamber, judging from the echoes he heard of the doors shutting. He saw Hyandai standing right beside him, her eyes wide with disbelief. Her bow dangling limply from numb fingers.

He turned more and saw, descending the raised dias before them, from a rather ostentatious throne, an elf. In his hands, he was carrying a Ehladrel, very much like Ceriandel's weapon, but more ornately carven. It seemed to radiate power as he hefted it, letting it swing gently from his hands, flowing in graceful arcs from one hand to the other. He said something in elven to Hyandai, causing her to blink out of her stunned silence.

She looked at the elf a long moment, as he walked across the floor, the arcs of his weapon becoming wider and starting to flow together into a single long motion.

"You had no right!" She yelled at the elf. "It is not your choice to make."

He chuckled. "You wish me to speak in the human tongue? For the benefit of your pitiful lover?" He asked, in Westron. "Very well, since you, like so many of my people, find humans so fascinating." His face showed disgust, and when he said human it sounded almost like a grave insult. He stopped advancing, and let the Ehladrel slow to a idle pace, flowing back and forth, changing hands and describing short, elegant arcs. "We have spent our best blood helping humans, and receive nothing in return." He said. "When are you going to figure that out, they will exterminate us. Not by avarice, but by sheer ignorance and fecundity." He looked at Harlen askance. "And you, whore, you further the crime by hastening your own race's demise by allowing your own womb to breed more of the beasts." His eyes shot back to Hyandai. "You may wish to let your people die, and let yourself rut with animals, but I will not, and I will stop it." He said, his voice lowering to a very threatening tone.

"Your wife died in the Windir Isles, did she not?" Hyandai asked, her eyes focused not on him, but on the Ehldarel in his hands. "She died a noble death, defending helpless children." She said.

He barked out a chilling laugh. "She died protecting the pups of men, who could easily just mount their wives and produce another litter!" He spat on the floor. "A stupid death!" He raised the weapon again. "Like yours will be." His body flowed into motion, seeming to blur to Harlen's vision. He was going straight for Hyandai, though, the Ehladrel in his hands humming and beginning to sing in a high, threatening note. Harlen drew out his sword, even as Hyandai began to dodge aside from the coming blow, reaching for her own weapon. The ehladrel whistled through the air she had just occupied a tiny moment before.

Harlen swung the sword, and felt a shock through his arms as the ehladrel seemed to just happen to be in his way. His weapon bounced off the elven bladestaff and he recoiled, seeing the elf glare at him with intense hatred in his eyes. Already, the elf was swinging toward him with the razor-edged ehladrel.

Hyandai finished her rolling evasion and came up on both feet, leveling her bow at the elf. "Letharon, stop!" She yelled, drawing back a white arrow, and then started chanting the words to give power to the enchantments laid upon the bow and arrow alike.

The elf glanced toward her, giving Harlen a chance to step back, bringing his sword back into line to defend himself against the dangerously whirling ehladrel.

Letharon smirked. "You know you cannot kill me with a bow, you stupid cow." He said, again watching Harlen. 




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 12



There were tears in Hyandai's eyes as she let the arrow fly, it tore the air toward the elf, but was stopped dead, shattering into splinters as the ehladrel simply passed between Letharon and the deadly path of the projectile.

The elf gave Harlen an almost pitiable look as he moved forward again. "I am sorry, human, that it comes to this." He said, the ehladrel swung around and came toward Harlen. He tried to parry it, but his sword clanged into the elven weapon, and was sent flying from his grip as Letharon twisted it subtly as it swung past Harlen's face.

It immediately began to flow back toward him, arcing quickly and looking like it would disembowel the huntsman. Harlen did the only thing he could, and lunged at the bladedancer. He felt the side of the ehladrel slide down his left side, removing skin for several inches, but not biting deeply. He impacted with the elf, driving him back and pinning one arm to his side.

The elf screamed in frustration as he was borne over and the two fell to the floor, tumbling over each other.

Harlen looked for the deadly elven weapon and saw it already coming toward him again, from the unpinned arm, flowing still in its gentle arcs and subtle angles. He rolled off the elf and the blade hummed past his ear. The elf leapt agilely to his feet as Harlen continued to roll until he had several feet between himself and Letharon. Another arrow shattered against the ehladrel, one of the black ones Harlen had given her. He looked at Hyandai. "You are a stubborn bitch are you not?" He said, smiling coldly.

Hyandai cursed under her breath and drew another arrow. Her last remaining white arrow, that she had brought from her homelands. "You will not win this, Letharon." She said, her eyes focused just as coldly as his own. "I will stop you."

As Letharon laughed, she spoke the words again, sending coruscating light through both bow and arrow. Harlen looked at her and knew that the bastard would simply deflect and shatter this arrow, too.

Suddenly, the doors reverberated with a massive boom. Someone outside was not pleased with them being locked, and was planning on coming through.

The ehladrel was coming up again, and Harlen knew what he had to do, in an instant. He could not allow that thing to parry Hyandai's solitary arrow. The elf was not even watching him closely and did not believe what he saw when Harlen stepped forward and allowed the ehladrel to impale his leg as it swung around from an underhanded motion.

Harlen screamed in pain as the blade sank into his thigh and deep into the bone at his leg's core. He then looked at the stunned elf, bringing his fist down on the elf's immobile hand. Then his leg folded as the bone snapped in his thigh and another bright spike of pain lanced through his body. The ehldarel was still in his leg as he collapsed, and through the haze of pain and shock he grabbed it in both hands, pulling it loose from Letharon's numb fingers.

Hyandai fired and the arrow drew a razor thin line of white energy from her bow to Letharon's chest, striking him from the left side and sinking into him until only the fletching remained visible. The razor barbed point stuck out of his other side, rich in blood and protruding just under his arm. The elf looked toward her, his eyes wide with mild surprise, then he turned back toward Harlen, opening his mouth to say something, but then collapsed onto his face, landing on the hunter's uninjured leg.

Harlen felt unconsciousness coming for him, and tried to slide from beneath the fallen elf. Hyandai grabbed his arm and pulled him free, then helped him half-crawl to the stairs to the throne. The door boomed again, and cracks appeared in the aged wood. Hyandai cried openly now, but looked up at the doors.

"They will break it down soon." She said to Harlen, reaching for the ehladrel he still clutched in both hands. "I need the weapon, my beloved." She kissed his hand and he let go of the gracefully curved blade. She pulled it free of his leg, sending his blood flying over the marble floor tiles. "Forgive me, my lover." She said as she turned toward the doors. Another loud boom reverberated through the large chamber as one door cracked completely. The next hit would split it.

Harlen propped his head on a stair. "No. Run, Hyandai, don't do this." He said.

She looked back at him, and smiled. "I must, Harlen, you have protected me for days now, and it now falls to me." She said. "You cannot deny me my own moment of heroism."

He groaned as the door split asunder, wood shattering in all directions as the main sections fell to the chamber floor. Orcs poured in through the gap, dozens of them, and they ran for Hyandai.

As they crossed the large chamber, Hyandai wailed something out in elven, and held the ehladrel before her in a perfectly vertical position, and she opened her eyes cold upon the orcs. The orcs in the frontmost rank stumbled upon seeing her visage, and the smile that came to her full lips, and the emerald ice that was her eyes. One orc in a farther back row hurled a stone at her.

As the stone flew toward her, she began to dance, the ehladrel becoming an extension of her arms. The stone seemed to hit her in the head, as she turned away from it on its fast shallow arc. However, it seemed to get entangled in her red silken hair, it now was encased in her fiery tresses. The first few, brave, and apparently not overly bright orcs stepped forward, bringing up their spears threateningly.

With a frightening laugh, Hyandai cut the heads from the spears, sliding the ehladrel through the shafts like a razor over chin stubble. One of the heads popped up into the air. And the ehladrel tapped it gently as it floated at the top of its trajectory. The point bulleted off into the crowd of orcs, and there was a scream as it tore through some unfortunate's body in the back ranks. The three leading orcs stared at their decapitated polearms for only a moment before their own heads separated from their bodies. Moving with blinding speed, Hyandai stepped up and swung the blade in what looked like a negligent motion, and their heads simply toppled from their shoulders, followed by their slower-reacting bodies.

The orcs in the front, witnessing this, were shaken greatly, but being pressed forward by their companions behind them.

Harlen watched in amaze as his vision flickered between near blackness and something akin to normalcy. She danced around the front rank, the orcs being cautious and fearing the whirling blade in her hands. Here an orc clutched at his gut as his organs flooded from him, there an orc's brain slid out of his skull as the bone and flesh simply folded away from his head. The blade was nearly invisible and she was but a indistinct blur now. Suddenly, she was spinning on the toe of one foot, then the stone that had been hurled at her shot out of the vortex, striking a particularly big orc with enough force to pulverize his face and send him flipping back onto several of his smaller compatriots. She stopped a moment, the orcs watching her closely. She hurled the ehladrel at one of the orcs in the front rank. It spun toward this unfortunate, but halfway through the flight of the weapon, Hyandai collapsed onto the floor, and the orc deftly caught the ehladrel. The orcs stood for a moment, then every orc standing near the orc who caught the weapon started to fall.

The orc screamed in elven with its raspy, harsh voice, as it started moving with an agility no orc ever possessed. Orcs fell all around it, arms and legs flying from them along with heads and chunks of other meat and gore. As the orcs started regaining their wits, the ehladrel was flying again, landing in the hands of a particularly large orc, with bulging muscles, heavy armor and a massive steel helm on its disfigured head.

Using brute force, and the ehladrel as a single handed blade, it started to lay waste to the orcs around it, the crowd that was in the room was thinning visibly as orcs quickly lost heart and started to flee the killing field within the chamber. The floor was now slick with their flowing blood, and there were pitiable cries of the dead and dying marking time with Hyandai's beautiful and terrifying dance. The massive orc shrugged off several blows from his companions, their blades deflected by the armor on its body or simply letting the blows land and do damage. Hyandai ignored the wounds, not concerned if this body survived. She reveled in the power in this beast's arms, and screamed out a incoherent cry of victory as she felled another large orc, severing his head in a clean stroke of the blade.

A hurled javelin arced toward him from near the door, and the ehladrel, seemingly of its own accord, batted it into the air, and as it floated there, swatted it on the backswing, sending it rocketing into a nearby orc even as the weapon nearly bisected another orc vertically from crotch to neck. 

The orcs finally broke, their morale shattered by a foe that they could not kill at a distance and who they could barely wound up close, and who could move between them like a wraith, stealing their very bodies and using them to further its own ends.

Screaming that the witch queen of the elves was among them, the orcs began fleeing the chamber. Hyandai cut down over a half dozen as they fled the room, hurling orcish and elven curses at the retreating figures as they bolted down the hallway. She flexed her massive arms and roared at the ceiling of the chamber. She then turned toward her body, still lying limp and forgotten on the floor.

Harlen watched as the huge orc walked over to Hyandai's body, and hovered over it, placing the ehladrel gently into her fingers. Then the massive creature turned her face to him. Suddenly, the orc collapsed, falling to one side as Hyandai rolled from beneath him. He was breathing, but he did not move.

She rolled to her feet and brought the blade down on the orc's skull. Then she looked at the bodies littering the floor and dispatched the few who were grievously injured but not yet dead. One wounded orc was trying to crawl to the door, Hyandai's cold eyes came to rest upon him. "You wish to leave?" She asked.

The orc turned with horror in his red eyes. "Please, witch, do not kill me, I will never raise my hands to you again." He begged. Her head tilted a little as she brought the ehladrel down and swept it along the floor. A spear lying there seemed to spin into the air and lance toward the orc with such force that it picked him up on its flat trajectory and impaled him against the door, the spear quivering from his chest and the light of life fading from this bloodshot eyes.

"I know you will not, foul beast." She said.

She turned back to Harlen, her eyes still shards of emerald ice. She looked at him appraisingly for a moment, then walked up to him. "Human, you are hurt." She said, her voice marked by near emotionlessness. She knelt beside him and set the ehladrel down. As soon as the weapon left her fingers, her eyes shifted and softened, and warmed. "Spirits save me." She said, looking over her shoulder at the room full of carnage. "Harlen, I'm sorry, oh please, forgive me." She said, kissing his hand. 

He twitched a little and looked at her. Then smiled. "Forgive you what, my betrothed." He said. "For being a war goddess?"

She smiled timidly. "It was not me." She said, eyeing the ehladrel. "It was the heirloom."

She kissed his hand again. "You were always safe." She said, then looked at his leg. "We must move quickly." She said. Leaning toward the wound. 

Harlen watched in fascination as she started to mend his leg. Her sweet breath cooled the wound, and the numbness that was settling on his thigh receded, and pain lanced through him again. He gasped at the pain, but it soon passed, as she mended bone, muscle and sinew. His eyes widened in fascination as he saw muscle flowing like water, filling the gap between their cords, and veins rejoining, and pulsing with blood again. The heavy bone of his thigh rejoined and fused, forming a whole piece again. Within a minute, the leg was all but mended, with only a long pink area of skin marking its former state.

Hyandai looked up at him, and kissed the thigh. There were deep black marks around her eyes, and her face looked drawn and thin, even the luster of her fiery hair and the emerald of her eyes was dulled. She looked old, and she looked worn.

He sat up, pain aching through his side, where the ehladrel had skinned him like a filleting knife. She rose to her feet slowly, thought she did stay upright, she swayed. "I cannot run, Harlen." She said.

Harlen stood up. He stooped and picked up the ehladrel, which she seemed to have forgotten. "I don't think we have to." He said, looking at the empty passage beyond the door. "I believe you've scared them all off." He smiled at her. "You scared me pretty well, myself." He could feel the weapon tingling in his hand, but it was just a minor feeling, and probably all in his head.

He put his arm around her and helped her to walk. He stopped again, and picked up his own sword, and Hyandai's bow. He sheathed the sword and put the bow beside his over his back. "Come, my beloved." He said. "We should probably go from here." 



The Solitary Arrow Ch. 13



Harlen put his arm under Hyandai's ribs and helped her stay on her feet. She felt wasted and thin, like she had spent months in a dark cell. He looked over the carnage in the room that Hyandai had wrought alone. Body parts lay strewn about, and whole bodies, cloven in two, heads, arms, and legs.

She shuddered as she saw it too, as for the first time. "No wonder they called me a witch." She muttered.

Harlen started to move them forward again, toward the shattered doorway. "You were magnificent." He said, kissing her hair. "You looked like a warrior goddess from the old tales from Syriss."

She looked at the ehladrel in his hand. "It was the weapon." She said. "There is a reason the orcs fear it. And my people seek its return.

They came to the fallen body of Letharon. Hyandai looked at his still-shocked face. "He was one of our greatest warriors, Harlen." She said, her voice heavy with sadness.

"Why did he do this?" He asked.

"Some elven folk believe it a mistake to work closely with the humans, a minority, but a increasingly radical minority. The losses of the battles in the Windy Isles have caused them to begin a campaign to subvert the people away from the crown's will and turn us back inwards, like our Starre Island cousins." She shook her head. "There are dark elves among them, as well, being as they share some goals."

Harlen muttered. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend." 

She knelt and closed Letharon's eyes, needing the huntsman's help to regain her feet. "I wish it were not so, but they see it that way, indeed." She looked back at Lotharon as Harlen guided her out the doorway. "He was a hero once, and now has died defying the will of his people, the ones he swore to protect, it pains me to see him in such ignoble company upon a field of death."

Harlen nodded. "He chose the wrong path." He said. "Becoming that which you hate to destroy another which you hate gains you nothing. I learned that the hard way." He gave her a wry smile.

She kissed him on the cheek. "Forgive yourself now, beloved." She said.

They cautiously approached the stairs, but there was no movement in any of the side chambers. All the orcs, it seemed, had truly fled in terror at the wroth of the 'witch queen.' Harlen could not blame them; he was more than a little frightened of the small woman who now leaned on him for support.

As they descended the stairs, Harlen said. "I thought you had to have a willing person to perform your spiritual leap into them."

She shook her head. "Only if you wish them to survive it." She looked at him with sad eyes. "I was not concerned if the orcs' minds were destroyed at my coming into them. She again looked at the ehladrel. I was not concerned for much, except defeating those that would stand in my way to freedom. It is a terrible weapon you hold, Harlen. It does not care who it destroys, so long as an elf wields it and believes in what he is doing."

"Isn't it that way with all weapons?" He replied as he looked into the corridor toward the exit of the tower.

She sighed and said. "Yes, I guess it is." Again, there was nothing moving in the tower. The orcs had fled far from this place of terror for their kind. There may have been several hundreds in the fortress, but the word of the witch queen broke their will, and none of their kind would stand for being simply slaughtered. Harlen envied orcs their very selfish attitude, though it is also why they have achieved little in the world. He grinned realizing that selfishness gains an individual, and selflessness gains a people.

They emerged into the darkness of early night. Hyandai scanned the surrounding hillocks and rock piles. "There is nothing moving, save small animals." She pronounced. "Was I truly so terrifying?" She asked, looking at Harlen with large eyes.

He nodded sadly. "Yes." He said simply.

She touched his cheek. "Even for you?"

He looked away from her, breaking the contact with those green, luminous eyes. "Yes." He said. "To know my lover can destroy a man's mind with but a glance, or his body with a simple flick of her wrist." He looked back at her. "How is a man to react to such terrifying power?"

She shrugged, a habit she had been increasingly using as she spent time with the man she loved. "How am I to react to a man who could snap my neck like kindling?" She said quietly. "Or break my heart with a few little words." She added, her eyes dropping. "You may not know it, but when I first met you, the very first human I had actually spoken to, and one of the first I had seen, I was terrified of you. You were so big and powerful, and moved like an animal, a bear stalking his wood." She smiled. "But I needed to trust you, so I bit that back and trusted you."

He smiled at the memory of their meeting, seemingly so long ago, but only, in reality, perhaps two weeks. "You're saying I should trust you now?"

She nodded. "Please." Her eyes implored him. This was very important to her, and she knew if he could not trust her, their love was doomed. "My power will never be used to hurt you, and you know that."

He considered this as they descended the steps that led to the mouth of the fortress, both keeping wary eyes out on the field and surrounding environs. "I guess that I do." He finally said. "As I suppose you do, as well."

She smiled and kissed his shoulder. "With my very life." She whispered. They finally reached the first outlying rock piles and did their best to blend into them, and move quietly between the formations and small hills, leading back to the high pass to his home.

Hyandai could not climb the steep path up to the pass this night, and they sought out some secluded location to pitch their blankets for a night's sleep. Harlen finally declared a spot somewhat suitable and they unfurled their beds. She immediately sought his touch as they lay down and he embraced her, knowing that to make her feel, even in the least, unwanted, would hurt her greatly. He soon realized he was drawing as much comfort from her as she was from him, and smiled into her cinnamon-scented hair as they both drifted into uneasy sleep.

---

In the morning, Hyandai seemed much recovered, though there was still a noticeable darkening around her eyes. She awoke Harlen with a passionate kiss, they both smiled at the bright morning that greeted them as they moved from the shadows of the cleft they had chosen for a shelter. He sought out a vantage point and used his spyglass to peer back down at the fortress.

"Our friends didn't stay scared for too long." He said, with a sour expression on his face. "They're back, and in force."

She nodded. "We must be cautious, then." She murmured as he clambered down the rocks he had stood upon. "They will not tarry with us again, they will try to kill us, and may even have gifted among them now, their own magicians."

The two ate quickly of their nearly depleted stores of food, and rolled their beds up and tossed them into their packs. Hyandai took possession of the ehladrel and strapped it to her back, as Harlen remembered her brother wearing his. "I will only use it if I must, beloved." She said as he looked on her with worried eyes while she tied it over her shoulder. He seemed satisfied with that, and nodded curtly as he took several of his arrows and refilled Hyandai's now empty quiver.

They set off to climb the steep path, and managed to finish their ascent by noon, though Hyandai was completely spent at the finish, and Harlen had to nearly carry her. They peered down at the fortress. Bands of the orcs were fanning out from it, and he pulled forth his spyglass again.

Two groups of over a dozen of the foul creatures were pressing toward the pass they had ascended. He examined them as best he could at this distance. They seemed to be searching as they went, meaning they had not already spotted the two of them. Hyandai sat upon a stone, leaning on a larger one next to it. "They pursue us?" She said quietly.

Harlen said. "Yes, and two groups seem to be coming this way." He looked again. "Perhaps thirty in total."

She sighed. "I cannot fight off that many again, betrothed." Said quietly. "It would kill me."

He looked at her a long moment. "I know." He said. "Can you walk farther?"

She nodded, but it had no emphasis to it. "A ways, but not far." She said.

"Then come, we will leave the pass and hide to let you regain your strength." He said, taking her hand and guiding her northward. They explored up high onto the side of the mountain, peering into its crevasses and under its stone-littered sides. Harlen was cautious the whole time to mask the signs of their passing. Finally, he found a small hollow under a large boulder, and they took shelter within. It was barely large enough for the two of them to lie flat and side by side, but neither seemed to mind.

Harlen stacked stones in his best guess of the look of random rubble outside the entrance to mask it from all but the closest scrutiny. They then laid within and rested, and spoke softly, at the times when they were both wakeful.

Hyandai was very concerned that there may be more elves of minds akin to Lotharon's. She did not relish returning the ehladrel to her folk, only to have it again seized by zealots.

Harlen shrugged at that. "I don't see how it can be protected absolutely." He said. "You need it, but are afraid to use it. Not a pleasant dilemma."

She agreed. "The dichotomy of power, I guess." She murmured into his neck. She began kissing his exposed throat.

Touching her bare spine beneath her half top, Harlen smiled and said. "You seem to be recovering your energy. We should probably go in the morning."

She responded to his gentle touch by pressing herself against him more firmly. "Would that I had the energy for a night of love." She said wistfully, kissing his neck again.

Harlen smiled and stroked her hair and back. "I do to." He whispered into her pointed ear. 

They both dozed fitfully through the night, and finally the sky began to brighten with the coming of the sun. Before the orb of fire could clear the near horizon, they were moving among the rocks of the pass, keeping to cover as much as they could, and warily scanning the paths before them. Hyandai heard the tread of heavily booted feet first, and pulled Harlen into a small cleft between two stones, turning her back to the outside and flipping up her hood. A group of half a dozen orcs moved past, led by one of the big brutes. They seemed engrossed in discussing what they would do to the human and elf witch if they caught them. What the orcs lacked in imagination, they made up for in cruelty.

After the group had passed out of hearing, the couple slipped onto the path again, and by mid afternoon had reached the top of the steep descent to the valley between the ranges of jagged-edged peaks.

Harlen scanned the valley floor for any sign of motion and found four groups of under a dozen orcs were down there, but none near the pass at the moment. The couple descended as fast as they dared risk, several times falling for a short distance and hurting an arm or leg, but nothing serious. They finally reached the bottom just after full dark, with Hyandai gently guiding Harlen by the arm and whispered verbal directions. She led them from the bottom of the path and out into the broken stone piles and crevasses.

They found a good-looking spot and made camp for the night. The last of their food was used then, and they also emptied their water skins. Harlen said. "We can refill the bottles once out of the mountains, for certain. And I can hunt us some game when we get to the forest."

She nodded as she ate her bread and hard tack. Suddenly, she leapt to her feet, grabbing at the ehladrel with both hands. Her eyes adopted the cold look again, and her face set with determination. Then she was gone, Harlen blinking at her sudden disappearance. He drew his sword out, but did not see far in the moonless overcast sky.

There were sounds in the rocks, the singing of steel on steel then grunts of pain or surprise. A few moments after it started, it stopped. An eerie dead silence fell on the area, and Harlen could hear his own heartbeat. Pounding hard and fast in his chest as he breathed shallow and fast, as well, worried for his lover as much for the danger she represented as that which she was exposing herself too.

A minute or two later, she reappeared near him. "Why did you not say something?" He demanded as he made out her shape nearing him.

"I could not, Harlen." She said. "There was no time, the orcs had to be dealt with." Her eyes were still cold and hard as ice.

He looked at her with wide eyes. She squatted beside him and put the heirloom down. "Please, Harlen, do not hold the actions I take while holding that thing against me." She whispered, with tears in her eyes.

He shrugged. "It seems you elven folk have a lot of times that you can act without wanting to be held accountable." His face showed a bit of anger, and resentment. "Do you never take credit for your own actions?"

She could not meet his eye. "I ask much of you, I know." She said. "But I would not ask for your forgiveness for them if I felt I was not worthy of it." He could see tears running down her cheeks. "I am trying to get both of us out of this alive, betrothed." She said, now looking at him. "For I wish to spend many, many more days with you, and would not have them cut short."

Harlen's expression softened somewhat. "I know, Hyandai." He said. "But I am a grown man, please stop behaving as if I cannot be part of our protection."

She nodded. "I will try." She said. "But, that weapon was crafted before man was forging metals and tilling fields." She looked at him sidelong. "It does not realize that man is a race that stands proud this day, and does not need looking after, as they did in those times."

He tried to think of time in such a scale, but could not; he had no frame of reference. It was widely known that elves had the first real civilization in Feldare, and that they taught many secrets to men who lived lives as little better than animals. That was even in the Book of the One, which called elves the angelis feldaris, or the angels of the land. They were exempted from the Church, unless they sought it out, and were not to be proselytized to, as the Book requires devotees to do to other men, for they were already blessed by the One.

He thought about her words. "I'm sorry, angel." He said, recalling that term from the Book. Then looked at her lovely face, with its tears. "I wish I could stop making you cry." He murmured and kissed her on the forehead.

She smiled. "My fears make me cry, not you." She said, touching his arms. "I fear you ultimately finding me too alien to love." Her eyes were earnest, and she seemed to be examining him in the darkness. "I sometimes feel that I am, that all elves are."

Harlen laughed at that, a bit more loudly than was probably a good idea, given their circumstance, but it raised Hyandai's hopes, nonetheless. "You think yourself too alien to love?" He asked. "I fear you will find that I am not a worthy vessel for yours, being only a human."

They laid upon the blanket, touching each other gently in the darkness. "There is nothing about being a human to be called only, my betrothed." She said. "Despite your short lives, you accomplish, with ease, things that elves spend more than a lifetime of man trying to master." She touched his arm. "Did you know our generals in time of war are often humans?"

He shook his head. "I did not." He said. "Why is that?"

She smiled. "We are horrible strategists." She said, giggling. "We can do fine in small fights, but when it comes to the art of making real war, humans are, without contest, the masters."

Harlen gave a small smile. "A dubious honor, I concede." He looked up at the low-flying clouds.

She said. "Perhaps. But there are other ways in which you of the third race make us nearly livid with envy." She cast her mind back. "Your children, for example, and your ability to live nearly anywhere in Feldare, and thrive. How blessed would be the lives of the elder race if we could dwell, like man, in the hills, and on the plains, and even in the mountains."

Harlen blinked, the idea of Elven folk being jealous of humanity was quite surprising. "Do your people really feel that way?" He asked.

She nodded. "Some so much so they wish us to stop dealing with men altogether." She said. "And I do not believe in their rhetoric that the elder race is superior. The two simply have differing survival strategies." She nuzzled into his neck and kissed his chin. "I believe if you cannot defeat them, then you should embrace them."

This brought a chuckle to Harlen, though a kernel of what she said resonated true. What would become of the elves if they intermingled with humanity too much? There were half elven men, naturally, but what of elven culture and society? Such thoughts were beyond the huntsman. It was his place only to worry for the times and situations he found himself within in his days. He stroked Hyandai's soft hair and breathed deep her cinnamon scent.

"If the elves pass into history, it will be a sore loss." Harlen finally said.

Hyandai rose to her elbows. "As a race, we are still strong Harlen." She whispered. "I should not have burdened you with our woes as a species." Then she frowned into the darkness. "Certainly not when I am, perhaps, furthering those woes." This last came out as less than a whisper.

"You should not heed the words of a traitor to your own people." The huntsman said, a twinge of worry in his voice. "He spoke words that would cause you to doubt yourself. Don't even give him that much victory."

She nodded. "I shall try, betrothed." She said and lowered herself to nuzzle his neck again. After a short while both drifted off to sleep.

---

Harlen awoke first, for a change, and slipped from the small crevasse they were sheltering in. After a few minutes of exploring and climbing, he found a reasonably good vantage point and scanned the valley he could see with his spyglass. By the time he had satisfied himself that there were no orcs within some distance of them, Hyandai had crawled from their little shelter. "Anything?" She asked, peering up at him on top of a small mound of stones.

"Nothing for as far as I can see from here." Harlen replied. "I can only see a short ways, though. If we wish to move, we should be cautious, and move north first." He began climbing down the steep, treacherous side of the rock pile.

As they packed their gear, Harlen asked. "Why is it you say that Letharon had an accomplice within the elven community?"

"He knew of my coming." She said. "And from what I can remember, he left our village about the same time the ehladrel went missing. I did not leave until almost six months had passed."

"So someone from the village must have told him?" Harlen ventured.

The elf nodded. Slipping her blanket into her small pack. "And I worry that we may encounter this person, or maybe persons, on our way back." Her face grew somber. "There is also the matter of who it may be. I dread knowing, for it will surely be someone I knew and trusted." She locked her emerald eyes upon Harlen. "It will break my heart if and when I discover who it may be."

Pondering the weight of that thought, Harlen finished his packing and they began moving northward. They moved slowly among the large formations of stones, often they were forced to backtrack as a potential path turned out to be a dead end. Progress northward was painfully slow, but they were not pressed yet for time. Their supplies would last them five more days, or more if they were cautious. Water might become an issue, but the rains were plentiful this season, and the small ponds they ran across were potable, if not palatable. As the sun passed beyond the western peaks, early in the evening, as the sunset always is in this narrow cleft between ranges, they sought out shelter amid a tiny copse of stunted trees.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 13



Hyandai was relieved to be among trees, even diminutive ones clinging to life in a tight knot. Harlen could see much tension flow from her as she simply sat among the boughs of the small trees' shelter. Her emerald eyes seemed to sparkle more and her hair gained its luster. Were elves so closely tied to the wood? He thought, but decided that they must be, for the changes in her appearance were mirrored in her behavior. She became more playful that evening, and even more affectionate, showering him with little kisses and caresses throughout their late supper and as they prepared for sleep.

As Harlen lay down, Hyandai's hands were exploring his body, already seeking out the places she could touch and arouse his lusts. Far from minding, he was elated and responded quite enthusiastically. While they seemed to be far from adventurous in their lovemaking that night, they were certainly both energetic, though she spared him the ordeal of feeding him more energy for multiple rounds. The one bout they partook of was more than sufficient to sate their desires, and they lay afterwards in a happy embrace.

"What shall we do when we get back to Morrovale?" Harlen asked her as he stroked her smooth shoulder.

She looked up into the starry night. "I suppose we need to get this home to my people." Said Hyandai. "Then I will be released from the oath I spoke to my clan and can go my way. Then come back to you."

"Can I not go with you?" He asked.

She nodded. "I will say you can, as now you have helped me complete this quest." She paused a long moment. "But you may find that your coming will be met with mixed feelings, I fear."

"If you think it allowable, then I will come with you, nonetheless." Harlen murmured. "I would not be parted from you unless need be."

She idly stroked his chest. "I had thought that would be your mind on it." She said. "I will gladly present my betrothed to my people, whether they approve or not. I am not shamed by my choice of a mate."

Harlen smiled into the darkness and kissed her forehead. "And I am honored by your choice." He said.

---

They awoke to a loud sound nearby. Hyandai was on her feet first, her nude form light against the dark backdrop of the small knoll of trees. She peered into the darkness, reaching for the ehladrel with uncertain fingers.

"What is it?" Harlen whispered as she found the long, ornately sculpted weapon.

She glared down at him. "Still your tongue, human." She hissed and searched the darkness again.

Harlen blinked at the sharp, mildly insulting rebuke, and then saw the glint of that blasted weapon in her hands. Shaking his head, he rose from the blankets, and slipped on his pants as she moved a short way toward the edge of the wood.

She came back in a moment. "Orcs." She whispered. "About a dozen." Her eyes were furtive in the limited light, and Harlen realized he could see them. It was no illusion that made elven eyes light in the dark; they really did so.

"We should leave, then." Harlen said.

She nodded, but her expression was one of disappointment. "Agreed. Let us pack camp quietly and move quickly."

They stowed their gear and were moving toward the edge of the little copse when a shout went up from the orcish camp. Hyandai grabbed his arm and broke into a full run, casting stealth aside, and hoping the cloaks would protect them from prying eyes.

He stumbled here and there a little, as she leaped over an obstacle that he could not quite make out in the near darkness of the starlit night. He had his sword drawn now, and she carried the ehladrel.

As they turned a corner around a sizable mound of boulders, they came face to face with three of the larger sort of orcs who were just as surprised to see the couple. Before the orcs could so much as grunt out their shock, one died with the elven weapon slitting him from neck to groin. The other two had barely begun to move when Harlen thrust the broadsword through one's gullet, releasing a gout of thick, red blood. The ehladrel moved in a graceful arc in the starlight, and came full circle just in time to catch the other large orc's charge, and Hyandai gracefully slipped aside as the headless corpse flopped onto the ground.

Again, she grabbed his hand and they ran. It was almost an hour before she slowed down, and they cast about for somewhere to lie for the remainder of the darkening hours of the night. They finally found a small patch of level ground among some high stones and slipped into the relative shelter of the hidden space.

Harlen tossed out his blanket, flapping it to get rid of some dirt and leaves from the site they had just fled. "You sure get an attitude when you pick that thing up." He said, nodding toward the ehladrel.

Hyandai cast her eyes toward the weapon. "I know, I am sorry for that, my love." She murmured. "It just takes over, or at least something in it makes me feel like I am not really me anymore."

Harlen slipped off his soft-soled boots and looked up at Hyandai as she sat next to him, kicking off her own footwear. She turned toward him. "Those are not my thoughts, or words, Harlen, you must believe me." She said, her eyes filled with worry.

"I do angel." Harlen replied.

They propped their weapons within easy reach, Hyandai had Harlen move the ehladrel, not wishing to touch the powerful item until she must. She curled up against him, her small hands on his chest and her lovely face pressed to his neck.

Harlen sighed as she breathed gently into his neck and hair, she was quickly asleep, her breathing becoming slow, even, and deep. He stroked her fiery hair gently as she slept, and he watched her eyes twitch in the dim moonlight. He wondered what she dreamed of, and wished fervently he could join her in them. Perhaps she was in her homeland, among the great ornthalion trees that her people so adored. The man tried to imagine what it must be like to roam in an elven wood. Would it be like a park, the wooded garden that the duke had on his manor grounds? Or was it more like the woods he hunted daily, but more so?

As he watched the skies, he detected motion there, a slight motion, but there were stars winking out then back on again. He furrowed his brow and watched the moving shape more closely. An eagle? He wondered. Or, maybe, a hawk?

Were their enemies in the air as well as on the ground? Harlen shuddered at the thought of having enemies so powerful that they could take to the sky to thwart Hyandai's goals.

It was an owl, he finally realized, hearing a distant hoot high above him. He smiled upward at his fellow hunter and let himself doze as well.

---

"Awaken, human, we must move quickly." Hyandai said, that cold tone told him, even before he pried his eyes open, that she was holding the ehladrel.

He sat up and looked at her. She had blood on her legs and one arm, and the ehladrel was coated in the sticky red stuff. He pulled his boots on and grabbed his blanket even as he took to his feet. Hyandai was already slinging her bow over her shoulder. "There are more, but they hesitate to follow me." She said.

Harlen smiled. "I don't doubt that, Hyandai." He said. "You frighten me pretty bad, and you're not trying to kill me."

She gave him an impatient look. "You speak casually to me, human, this is not the time for banter." She said, her voice dripping with self-superiority.

He had enough of this crap, he decided. "Listen you arrogant elf." He said, shoving his blanket into his small knapsack. "You didn't condescend to me when I was fucking you the other day."

Hyandai blinked a few times, and her eyes took on a faraway look. "Harlen, please do not grow angry with me." She whispered, though her eyes did not meet his. "It is not you or me, it is the ehladrel."

He nodded. "That piece of elven steel is going to talk you right into a lonely walk home, Hyandai." He said, hefting his pack and grabbing his bow. "I suggest putting it away for now."

The elven woman's brow furrowed and she picked up her blanket and rolled the ehladrel within its cloth folds. Soon she had a bundle about four feet long and almost a foot around. This she tied a piece of rope around and slung from her shoulder, beside her quiver.

The couple set out, not speaking or even walking close to one another. Hyandai could feel the anger and resentment radiating from Harlen. It reminded her of the forced march from the cave toward Morrovale, when he had grown cold toward her and how she had cried most of that long walk in the rain. The weight of the ehladrel pressed against her back. She would not leave it where she could casually grab it up.

Hyandai promised herself to never tell Harlen of the morning's events, unless she must. She had arisen early and slipped intentionally from the camp and sought out a small group of patrolling orcs. It had been a bloodbath, quite literally, but one had managed to run away. She had put them both at risk just to satisfy some drive of the weapons.' She had awakened and picked it up. She longed even now to hold it, to feel that power course through her sinews and give her strength, grace, and most of all, power.

I'm becoming addicted to it. She thought. Its power is seductive. Harlen looked back over his shoulder and helped her up a steep incline of rocks and she caught herself almost refusing his proffered hand. She forced an unfelt smile to her lips, and his expression softened a little. What would she do if she alienated him fully? She wondered.

They were climbing the pass that led east back to the duchy, and safety. Apparently, the orcs had not thought to look this far afield, or the ones that would normally be around this area had been wiped out in the battle down below, at the bottom of the pass. Harlen ventured this theory, and Hyandai agreed. Or else it is a trap, she thought. Her mouth stayed still, though.

Harlen had just crested the last steep climb of the pass on this side and turned to watch her progress up the broken slope. With horror in her emerald eyes, she watched, as his expression grew puzzled, then he turned about to face the heights of the pass. As he turned, a black-shafted arrow came into view, piercing his right shoulder deeply. She screamed as another arrow struck his stomach and he bent double.

Everything was happening in slow motion now. She heard the ehladrel cry out to her. "Free me!" It screamed in her mind. "Use me!" A third arrow missed her lover as he collapsed to the stony ground.

She found herself unwrapping the rope from the ehladrel as the orcs that had shot Harlen came forward to finish their chore.

Thrusting her hand into the blanket she grasped the weapon. A cry went up among the half dozen orcs as they saw her, knowing that more interesting captives were not in the offing. A bow twanged among the orcs and an arrow flew toward her. As if by itself, the ehladrel interposed itself between her and the arrow, it sank into the blanket and struck steel. She swung the weapon, and the blanket flew away from it, unfurling and fluttering to the ground. Another orc loosed an arrow at her, but it, like its companion, failed to find its target.

She let loose with a blood curdling curse in orcish and charged them. Harlen's fading vision witnessed his beloved running full speed toward a half dozen large, armored orcs. Their little battle line faltered at the sight of a tiny elven maiden coming at them. Two fired at once, their arrows shattering upon the ehladrel's metal body.

Harlen could not remain conscious, he felt his head droop, but did not feel it strike the stones beneath him.

The first orc died horribly, cut in half at the waist by an almost negligent shift in the ehladrel's already blurring path. She was among them almost instantly and they cried in sheer terror as one after another of them gave up their lives to the elven weapon that they called the 'Bane of the Chosen."

Two tried to run, but she stopped them with a rapid, precise motion, slicing their hamstrings with the razor tip of the weapon. They tried to keep crawling, and Hyandai dispatched them unsympathetically, spearing them in the spine with the ehladrel and only pulling it forth when they stopped moving completely.

She returned to Harlen, and knelt beside him. The stomach wound was bleeding heavily, and she feared him already dead. However, she felt for his pulse and found a reedy thing there, intermittent and weak. Quickly, she pulled his shirt up and healed the wound, reddening her lips in her haste with her lover's own lifeblood. The arrow in his shoulder had broken off beneath the skin and she cursed her inability to get it out after a couple of attempts that caused him to cry out in pain.

His eyes popped open and he winced at the agony coming to him through the pierced shoulder. "Did you?" He asked, looking toward the orcs.

She nodded. "They are no longer a threat to us." She whispered with a smile. "But you are wounded and I cannot heal it, the tip remains."

Sweat was standing out from his brow. "I cannot move that arm, I think the head is lodged in the bones." He grimaced. "You will have to get it out."

Hyandai blanched. "I cannot, beloved." She said. Her eyes looked frightened and repulsed at the same time. "I know not how to perform such acts."

Sitting up with an exaggerated motion, Harlen said. "You have to. I cannot climb down the pass like this, much less fight if that comes up." He said.

Her eyes took on a haunted look. "I will try." She said quietly. "But you will have to guide me."

Harlen nodded and propped his good shoulder against a large gray stone. He took his skinning knife from his belt. "Use this, it's very sharp." He said. "You will have to cut flesh until you can get the barbs loose enough to pull it out."

She winced at the mere suggestion of cutting him. Her fingers felt numb as she took the knife. She felt clumsy and stupid now, something that did not come easily to an elven mind.

The sweat was rolling off of Harlen's brow now. "Okay, angel, you need to start cutting around it, go very slowly and feel ahead for large blood vessels."

Pain lanced through Harlen's arm as she put blade to wound and began cutting. She had tears rolling down her cheeks and her lovely face was twisted in a grimace of concentration and sadness. He could feel the blood soaking his tunic's back and hoped she had not cut anything vital. The sound of gritting teeth disturbed her and she stopped. "I am hurting you too much." She said

Harlen's voice was strained. "No! Keep going." He said. His eyes had a look of determined abstinence in them. There was a sharp pain as she moved the arrow in the wound, and then another, even sharper pain as she took hold of it with finger and thumb, and pulled. It had been imbedded in the bone and he felt a massive shock pass through him as it came loose, tearing more muscle and skin as it released its barbed grip on him.

Hyandai threw the three inches of steel-tipped wood away from herself, gory with blood and small bits of meat. She shivered throughout her body and her weeping grew louder. "By the Sprits, that was not pleasant."

Chuckling, Harlen said, "Truer words may never have been spoken."

She looked at him. "You can laugh at a moment like this?" She asked.

"You will find humans can laugh even as their heads are laid upon the headsman's block." Harlen replied.

She gently blew upon the mangled shoulder, and the chipped bone mended, then the meat grew together, and the skin filled in. A new, pink skin now stood in that spot, healed fully.

Harlen smiled as he rotated that shoulder. "You did very well, beloved." He said as Hyandai morosely looked at him.

"I suppose." She muttered to herself. Her hands were trembling and her own brow was now glistening with perspiration.

Kissing her gently on the brow, Harlen stood up and picked up his bow. "We should try to get down the pass by tonight." He said. His gray cloak flapped in the stiff gusts coming from the woodlands of his home. "The farther we get from that damn fortress, the better."

With a nod, Hyandai regained her feet and handed Harlen back his skinning knife. When he took it, she yanked her hand back like it was a snake or large spider. Given she was coated partially in dried orc blood, her revulsion by the small knife confused Harlen a bit, but he simply sheathed the small blade and they both headed toward the west. As they passed the fallen orcs, he noted that they were killed pretty messily, and further, two were struck from behind. He did not feel much sympathy for the brutes. They had fired upon him with no warning, and deserved no quarter from himself or from his lover.

They crossed through the pass uneventfully, moving quickly, and with little caution. They wished to leave these infested mountains and regain the relative safety of the woodlands below. Finally, the far end was reached, and they regarded the steep descent to the hills below. A large portion of the army was still encamped below them. Harlen guessed they were hunting out isolated knots of orcs in the hills. He passed on word that the orcs were thick in the mountains, they may well head up into the high passes to rid the countryside of even more of the foul beings.

Night had fallen as they reached the lower hills. A guard challenged them as they approached the camp. It was the youth Hyandai had kissed for a blessing, Dannes. He immediately became very friendly upon hearing her soft voice in the night. "Do you not recognize the woman who blessed you for battle, Dannes?"

He grinned so broadly that his teeth shone in the darkening airs. "Indeed I do, Lady Hyandai, and I still walk under that blessing's shield." She stepped close to the youth.

He regarded her in the dim light that the camp's fires provided at the distance of the perimeter guards. "It is good to see you two again." He said. "We worried for you when some of us spotted you climbing the pass during the battle."

The elven woman smiled. "We are fine, young Dannes." She said. "But we need to rest. We have had orcs pursuing us for days."

The lad nodded and waved them past him. "Proceed, then." He said. "Let me not hold you from well-deserved respite."

All the noblemen had returned to Morrovale. In their place, they left Farridin, captain of the East Marches. He was common born, but a man of much respect and no small renown in the duchy. As they moved through the encampment, Hyandai was impressed with the number of women among the contingent that remained after the initial battle, almost a third of the force.

A surly guard escorted the couple to the captain who seemed quite delighted to see them. "I hear you forewarned us about the surprise attack that first night out." He said to Hyandai after introductions had been made.

She nodded hesitantly. Farridin was a huge man, nearly twice Harlen's weight and over a foot taller. The image of an ogre would not leave her mind's eye as the huge middle-aged man moved about the pavilion tent. He clapped Harlen on the shoulder. "You did well, too, I hear!" The captain said. "Better than when you were under my command as a scout."

Harlen smiled wanly. "I had hoped you would have forgotten by now, sir." He said.

Farridin chuckled. "Not much chance of that, Harlen." He rumbled. "None of my other scouts ever routed a army single handedly."

Hyandai raised an eyebrow at this. "Captain?" She asked. "Please tell this tale, Harlen seems to have forgotten it."

The captain handed each a tall glass of wine and bade them sit in large folding canvas-bottomed chairs. "Well." He said, smiling at Harlen's obvious discomfort. "Harlen was sent to scout out a enemy force. We were at war with a neighboring barony. Even though we were winning handily, it was costing a lot of good men." He sipped his wine and smacked his lips appreciatively at the taste. "He ran across one of their scouts, and they had a bow-duel, which Harlen won handily. It was just after dark, and our man here slips into the other man's uniform and into their camp in the night. He not only scouted the camp, but accidentally killed the baron who was determined to have a war with us."




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 13



He refilled his and Hyandai's glasses; Harlen's was still half full. "Now, by accidentally, I mean Harlen was trying to kidnap him, and use him as ransom or to force the army to withdraw." He chuckled. "After he had clubbed the baron unconscious he was carrying the body out of the camp when one of the enemy's patrols happened upon him. They were suspicious of something, but they thought it was smuggling a woman into the camp. When Harlen protested that it was no body he carried, one of the guards pierced it with his spear. 'Ho ho,' says the guard, and laughs as he pulls back the blanket. Imagine the horror on his face when he realized he had just impaled his own lord."

The captain laughed again. "Well, they were so stunned that Harlen managed to knock them out, as well, and he escaped with the baron's corpse. Without the baron to drive his knights and captains to war, they sued for truce and returned to their lands." He snorted. "It was over with but a single death." He laughed some more and refilled all three glasses. When Hyandai spoke again, she had a noticeable slur to her musical voice. "Is there anything else about my beloved you can enlighten me with?" She asked, giving Harlen a wink.

The captain eyed both of them. "Not the kind of tales I'd speak to a lady ma'am." He said, and clapped Harlen's shoulder again. "Let's just say that it is fortunate that Master Harlen is faster than the merchants when they are chasing men away from their daughters."

Her lover blushed as Hyandai regarded him with a smile. This forced her to giggle a little. "Well, I, for one, am glad of the practice that those merchants' daughters provided." She said.

The captain and Hyandai laughed a moment, and then looked at a very uncomfortable Harlen. "Come, young Harlen." The captain bellowed. "What vexes you?"

The huntsman shrugged. "I do not know, captain Farridin. I fear this matter with the orcs is worse than it first appears." He filled the commander in on the goings-on in the mountains, studiously leaving out the part of an elf in the matter. The captain grew serious then, and listened intently to what was effectively a scout's report to the captain, something these two men had done many times in years ago.

"I will clear these beasts out, then." The captain rumbled. "It serves us ill to kill the ones in these hills, then have fresh orcs simply flow in from the mountains. He pondered things a moment longer, then begged leave to speak to his lieutenants. Harlen took Hyandai's hand and led her unsteady feet from the pavilion after farewells were exchanged. 

A young man came up to them. "The captain has ordered quarters for you two, sir." He said, bowing slightly. He led them to a large tent and inside. "I am to provide any services you need, sir." He said, standing inside the flap.

Harlen looked at him a moment. "Can you bring us some warm food, and some beer? Then you can go." The boy left the tent and returned a few minutes later, laden with a large platter of food, mostly meats and tubers. He also carried two large mugs of beer in his other hand. The lad had a future in barmaiding, Harlen thought.

After they had eaten, Harlen asked a passing soldier if there were baths in the camp. He nodded and pointed toward a small enclosure of canvas. One had a crudely painted triangle on its flap; the other had a disturbingly shaped penis marking its flap. Harlen chuckled as he and Hyandai prepared to go take baths and relax after in the safety of the camp. 



The Solitary Arrow Ch. 14



As Hyandai entered the bathing enclosure, she noted that she could hear giggling from beyond the canvas. She pulled the flap aside an inch or two and peered into the bathing area. 

The enclosure had no roof, and the stars overhead twinkled through the dimly glowing haze that spread over the campsite. The area itself was lit with several torches guttering from poles driven into the ground at the enclosure's center. A great expanse of oilcloth had been laid out to form a floor of sorts for the chamber, and to prevent it turning into a mud pit. In a tight cluster were six large, wooden tubs. Two long benches sat inside the entry flap and there was a wooden framework with cloaks hanging upon it right beside those benches. 

There were three women lying in the tubs in the middle of the room chatting as they bathed. All three were young, none older than twenty-five summers. 

She quietly slipped through the curtain and began to disrobe. As she did so, the women quit speaking causing Hyandai to glance nervously at them.

"Don't be a stranger, Hyandai." One of the women said. She was a blonde woman with densely packed freckles on her face and shoulders. "Please, come speak with us." She splashed the water in the tub next to hers, which was empty.

Hyandai, in her shyness, had tried to take the tub farthest from the tight little knot of women. Obviously, this was not to be, however. With a nervous smile, she walked toward the indicated tub. She noted all three women watching her as she walked; she saw the freckled one leaning toward the nearest woman.

"By the One, she's gorgeous." The girl with the freckles whispered in a tone few humans could have heard from across the enclosure. Of course, Hyandai's sensitive ears heard it perfectly and she blushed a bright pink.

The freckled woman's friend, a pretty brunette with thick, wavy hair, said, "And she's got good ears, too, Maegan." Then broke into peals of laughter as Maegan turned even more crimson than Hyandai and smiled sheepishly.

Hyandai smiled and stepped into the tub, it was only lukewarm, but more than adequate to get the grime of travel off of herself. She laid back, luxuriating in the mild warmth and the feeling of buoyancy.

"Thank you." She finally said in reply to Maegan's compliment. "You're very pretty too, Maegan, and your freckles simply add even more character to your loveliness." Hyandai said.

Maegan blushed again, and then laughed. "I apologize for trying to be sly with my words, Lady Hyandai." She said. "It's just that I'd only seen you at a distance before, and never imagined how very pretty you truly were."

The brown-haired girl giggled as well. "Be careful, Lady Hyandai, else you'll make Maegan here rethink her preferences." She said. 

Maegan, also laughing, splashed her with a great gout of water for her lip.

"You just watch yourself, Tessa." Maegan warned, her gray eyes flashing. "Don't think I didn't see you looking at Wendy like she was a prime little lad."

At those words, the girl who had remained silent throughout the exchange made a rather forlorn little squeaking sound and seemed to shrink into the tub more than she already had been. Hyandai immediately took more interest in the girl. She noted that the shy one's hair was almost blue in color, and wondered at that.

"How do you come by that color of hair, Wendy?" Hyandai asked, smiling encouragingly at the younger woman.

"Uh." Wendy said. "Well." She added after a moment. "It's from berries." She finally stammered out.

This sent the other two women into a fit of raucous laughter, so much so that Tessa actually lost her grip on the edge of her tub and managed to dunk herself into the water. She sat back up sputtering and still laughing a moment later. 

"You, you've got to tell her why." She said, squeezing the words out between laughing and coughing from inhaled water.

Hyandai immediately felt pity for the poor girl. This was terribly embarrassing for Wendy, but it did seem to be also genuinely funny. "Please, explain." She said, keeping an absolutely straight face.

When the girl looked toward her, she locked eyes with Hyandai's deep emerald orbs. Her own blue eyes opened widely. 

She slowly sat up straighter as Hyandai seemed to feed her confidence through the eye contact. "I was trying out a new soap recipe, and it called for strawberries." She said, her ends of her mouth quirked upward a fraction of an inch. "Well, I had no strawberries, so I used blueberries instead."

Maegan and Tessa fell into laughter again. Tessa patted the young woman's shoulder. After a long moment, Wendy started giggling along with the other two, and once she had done that, Hyandai began laughing as well, refusing to laugh at the young woman, but quite willing to laugh with her.

---

Harlen walked into the men's bathing area, and looked about. There were a dozen large tubs set into a circle about the open space within the canvas walls. The floor had a huge amount of oilcloth covering it, and there were several long benches lining the outer wall. Two torches illuminated the enclosure with their flames.

Only two of them had occupants. The two men sat next to one another and watched the hunter enter. One murmured something to the other, and the other's eyes widened with realization.

"Huntsman!" He exclaimed. "Come, take a tub near to us, we would speak with you, if it isn't an imposition."

Harlen smiled slightly and shrugged. He walked around the other tubs to the nearest to the one who had spoken, a young man with an eye patch. "I always welcome good conversation." He said as he disrobed and stepped into the tub.

"I don't know about good, but it should be entertaining, anyway." The talkative one said. "I am Lanner, and this is my friend, Willem." He pointed to the other young man, about the same age as the speaker. They were both perhaps two years Harlen's junior, or so he judged.

Willem finally spoke. "I saw you with the elven lady, Hyandai." He said. "She's amazing, from what I hear."

Harlen nodded. "My name is Harlen." He replied. "We've traveled together some days now. And she is – Amazing that is."

"She's amazingly beautiful." Lanner said, grinning broadly. "You're a lucky man. Even if you only get to walk beside her from day to day."

"Every time I hear her voice, I remind myself of that, Lanner." Harlen said as he began scrubbing himself. "And every time she smiles, too."

"Are you two to wed?" Willem asked, feeling bold with either friendliness or simplicity.

Harlen thought a moment. "I honestly do not know." He answered. "And it will be most of a year before I find out."

"There's a burden to carry, eh, Willem?" Said Lanner. "Imagine not knowing if the most beautiful woman you can ever hope to have may leave you in a year." He looked at Harlen. "In that way, Harlen, I do not envy you."

Willem nodded, and his face took on a mildly sad expression. "I do feel for you, Mister Harlen." He said. "I wish you the One's grace in that matter."

Harlen tried to push back the doubts that Lanner's words had created in his mind. "Thank you Willem." The huntsman said.

"But, we move onto lighter things." Lanner said. "We will be having beer at our company's tents tonight, Master Harlen. If you wish to join in some small revelry, please feel free to come. And, naturally, Lady Hyandai may come as well."

"I will keep that in mind, Trooper Lanner." Harlen replied. "Though I cannot promise much. Hyandai and I are weary from our trek in the mountains, and she may desire only sleep."

The two younger men rose from their tubs and dried off. As they cast cloaks about their shoulders and prepared to leave the bathing area, Willem turned to Harlen again.

"She will choose you, Master Harlen." He said earnestly. "You're one of the best-known and best thought of men in the duchy."

Harlen stared after the young man as he turned again and followed his friend through the flap.

"I wish I shared that confidence." He murmured to the empty enclosure.

Harlen let himself slide down in the tub and let his muscles relax. The water was barely warm enough to be comfortable, but it would suffice. Soon, with his mind wandering over the events of the last few days, he drifted off to sleep.

---

Hyandai received the bottle from Maegan and took a sip from it. This stuff was good, she decided, handing the bottle over to Wendy. It burned a little as it went down, but then seemed to explode into general warmth throughout her. It had a mild aftertaste, but she could not place it.

"What did you call this?" Hyandai asked Tessa, noting that her voice slurred a little as she spoke. 

The four women had abandoned their tubs in favor of the two long benches set near the entrance. Hyandai sat next to the petite Wendy, and the other two women sat next to one another. The bottle, something with no maker's label, and only etched with two 'X's upon its side, passed among the four women freely, each drawing off little sips, and passing it along.

"Itsh my daddysh brew." Tessa said, her voice slurring even worse than Hyandai's. "He makesh it with pertatoes."

Maegan giggled at Tessa. "You're drunk." She accused her friend. "When you're drunk, you can't say pototoes."

Tessa was taller than any of the other women here, by almost a head. "I reshent that." She said, standing to her full height. "I can so pay sotatoes." Then she blinked, her face adopting a blank expression for a moment. "Oh dear." She said, finally. "I think I need the latrine."

The tall woman hastily grabbed up her long cloak and ran for the flap, trying to don it as she bolted. 

"Ah, blast!" Said Maegan. "I better go tend to her, else some young soldier will likely take advantage." She grabbed up her own cloak and headed for the flap. "I wouldn't want to miss out on a good soldier." She said over her shoulder, winking at Hyandai and Wendy.

Hyandai rose from her place next to Wendy, turning to the young woman. "I find myself untired." Hyandai said. "Would you like to walk for a while?"

Wendy's eyes widened as she smiled and nodded. She stood from the bench and took her cloak from a peg.

Removing her own cloak and bundling her other clothes under her arm, Hyandai took the young woman's hand and led her from the bathing enclosure.

Wendy proved to be very good company, Hyandai discovered. She was also knowledgeable about many things, especially herbs and what the young woman called 'home alchemy.' They had walked the length of the encampment, and even as far out as the sentries on the south side.

They now stood on a low rise that overlooked the campsite. The fires down in the shallow valley created an artificial star field below that echoed the much vaster one above. A cooling breeze blew down off the mountains, and sent shivers down Hyandai's spine as the curls of wind snuck beneath her cloak and caressed the bare flesh beneath. One of the sentries had just passed by the pair and had nodded in acknowledgment before moving on down the slope on his rounds. 

Wendy turned and looked at Hyandai with staring eyes. "Lady Hyandai." She said, very quietly. "I understand that elven women are often, well, they are often equally," She paused a moment. "accommodating of other women as men." Her blue eyes shone brightly to Hyandai, even a bit more than could be explained by the elf's darksight.

Hyandai nodded but said nothing, keeping her face impassive.

Wendy stammered a moment. "I, I do not know if you are of that sort." She murmured, her eyes growing very large and concerned-looking. "But if you are." She looked down at the ground, her expression encompassing embarrassment and curiosity and nervousness all in one quick glance from the slender woman. "If you are, and you find me appealing . . .." She let the sentence drift off to silence.

The elven woman's face softened at the girl's discomfort. "Wendy." She said, very softly. "It is true that many elven women are attracted to other women." She reached out a hand and touched the young woman's cheek. "But, I do not even know if I am one of them." She finally admitted. "I have not done more than kiss another woman, and those instances were unbelievably rare."

Eyes alight with kindled interest, Wendy stared at the elven woman. "Did you enjoy those kisses?" She asked.

Hyandai giggled. "Well, yes, I did, but then . . . "

She was interrupted by Wendy's lips against hers. The young woman embraced her fully as she kissed the elven lady. Hyandai was stunned for a half a moment, then relaxed into the kiss. She had been about to say she did not often pass up a chance at a good kiss. No point in wasting this rather impulsively given one. Hyandai began to kiss Wendy back, putting her own arms around the young woman, and pulling her tight.

It took Hyandai a long moment to realize that she had slipped a hand out of her cloak and into Wendy's. She was stroking the girl's back and rump softly with her fingertips. She could feel Wendy shivering beneath her touch.

Hyandai pulled her lips from the girl's. "Are you cold?" She asked, still stroking Wendy's spine.

"No, Miss Hyandai." The young woman said, looking down nervously. "I'm somewhat frightened."

A soft giggle came from Hyandai's throat. "Frightened of me?" She asked. "You are probably half again stronger than I."

Wendy smiled wryly. "And still you could easily hurt me, even with just words." She said. "I want to trust you, though, something tells me I can."

"I tell you that you can trust me." Hyandai said earnestly. "But words mean little. What is it you wits to entrust to me?"

There was a long pause as Wendy stared at the campsite below them. More stiff breezes came down off the mountains and whipped the girl's subtly blue hair around her head.

"You are the first person I have wished to give myself to." Wendy said, keeping her eyes upon the flickering fires of the camp. "I've wanted neither men nor women until now."

A small piece of Hyandai's will fell aside with those words. "But I am betrothed." She said. "I cannot take a lover without my beloved."

Wendy turned to her. "But you can take a lover with him?" Her eyes glinted in the darkness again. Hope rekindled in her eyes.

A gentle smile crossed Hyandai's lips. "Yes, it is our way, when the situation is as ours is." She said. "But, it is not necessarily Harlen's way. Would you like to speak with both of us?"

Hyandai saw a slight nod of the young woman's head against the backdrop of the camp. With an extended hand, Hyandai brushed her fingertips against Wendy's neck.

"Come," The elven lady said, "we will go speak to my betrothed, if you are certain of this."

Hand-in-hand, the two women walked back to the camp. They wore smiles that were both mysterious and telling. The air did not seem so cool anymore to Hyandai. It seemed downright warm out now.

As they walked, Hyandai noted the girl's glances, and was reminded of Harlen's glances at her the first morning after they met. Hyandai did not know if they were being observed, and did not much care, in either. As the two approached the tent she shared with Harlen, Wendy squeezed her fingers tightly enough that it was very near too painful.

---

Harlen actually fell asleep for a short while in the tub. It was not until the water grew chill and the moon had risen well into the sky that he awoke shivering. He got up and hastily dried off with his blanket and bundled up his clothes. Casting his cloak over his shoulders, he headed toward the tent that the captain had provided Hyandai and him.

The tent was empty, he discovered. He supposed that Hyandai must have found the bath relaxing as well, or got to speaking with someone. He hung the cloak upon a peg mounted in the framing poles of the tent then cast himself onto the cot with a loud sigh.  

His eyes wandered to the Ehladrel lying atop their packs in the corner. What sort of thing was that weapon? Did it think? He sat up and regarded it, watching the ornate engraving in its flanks flicker and dance in the torchlight. The runes unsettled him, they seemed somehow malign, like they noticed him and did not care for the feel of him near.

Shaking his head to dispel the distasteful thoughts he was having he stood from the cot and walked toward it. It sat, unmoved by his approach and did not seem affected by his touch when he lifted it. It was heavy; especially considering it was an elven weapon. It was longer than his leg by about a foot, and was bladed for that entire length, terminating in two incredibly sharp points. The weapon was cunningly curved, and had handholds along its backside, allowing the wielder to adopt many varied grips of it.

Harlen smiled to think that from the look of it, it was nearly as dangerous to the wielder as to his opponents. Almost any grip he attempted aimed one of the arrow-sharp points toward him as well as his would-be foe. He remembered how the blade dancer had wielded the weapon, always keeping it in motion, never letting it rest. It was not a spear, or a staff with a blade; it was something different by its very nature.

A feeling of apathetic disdain overcame him after a few moments. The weapon did not even desire to grow upset in his grip; it only wished that the human would quit touching it. Harlen could feel this sense of disregard and it offended him, even more than active hostility would have.

"You think you're so superior, don't you?" He asked the blade. It did not respond, even in the gut feeling he received from it. Harlen shrugged and laid it back down, resting it only on Hyandai's pack, and lifting his own. 

He fished out his light sphere and the tent filled with its radiant, soft light. He slipped on a clean pair of pants and set to sharpening his sword, which had received many notches in the blade over the last few days. The large grinding stone from his pack made short work of smoothing them out, then he began the slow process of restoring the edge.

He had been at this rather mindless and relaxing task for almost an hour when the flap of the tent finally folded inward and Hyandai came through.

She pulled another woman through, as well. At first, Harlen thought that it was another elven maiden, so slight of build was the newcomer. Her oddly colored hair reinforced this mistaken identification. After a moment, though, it was apparent that she was quite human. Her rounded ears, though mostly concealed by her hair, would have been far more pronounced if they had been pointed. Also, as she turned to face Harlen with a nervous smile, she flashed pale blue eyes his way.

"Beloved." Hyandai said, coming forth and releasing the girl's hand. She kissed Harlen as he sat with the sword across his lap. "I wish for you to meet Wendy." Her hand curled to indicate the young woman standing behind her.

Harlen stood from the bed and nodded, then stepped toward Wendy. "I know you, Wendy." He said. "But I'm not sure from where."

She looked Harlen in the eyes. The first time Hyandai had seen her make eye contact with anyone but her. "I am Wendy, daughter of Rory and Anya," she said, "Anya is the youngest daughter of Tammer. And I know you, Harlen, and have known you for some years."

"But you were in Ghant, I remember you leaving." Harlen said, smiling. "When did you return?"

Wendy's face almost blossomed as she smiled. "Just last year, and we did so quietly, moving to a cottage down by the river." She replied.

Harlen's face grew mockingly stern. "You should have sought me out." He said. "I rather had a fancy for you before you left." The grin on his face was one of fond remembrance.

"Truth be told, I feared you, Harlen." She said. "Grandfather told me you had become rather grim and stern over the years intervening. He said you sought not the company of people."

The expression on Harlen's face was one of frustration, but inwardly directed. "I suppose he was correct in that." He finally said, after a long pause. "But I would have welcomed an old friend, in any case."




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 14



Wendy shyly glanced away. "I remembered you then as a strong and handsome boy that I had a fierce crush upon." She said. "I would not have come back to a handsome, strong, and very respected man and sought friendship."

Hyandai had stood aside while they spoke, gladdened that they were familiar with each another. Suddenly, though, that familiarity scared her, and put doubt in her heart. Had this lass manipulated her into bringing her to Harlen? She wondered. She doubted, now, that she was in control of the situation very much.

Immediately, Wendy seemed to notice the shift in the elven lady's eyes. "Oh, dear." She said, quietly. "Hyandai."

The elf's eyes were furtive as the two humans looked at her. "What is it, angel?" Harlen asked. He, too, could see her sudden discomfiture.

Steeling herself to meet Harlen's eyes. She turned her face to Harlen. "It is little of concern, betrothed." She said.

Wendy, however, took initiative of her own accord. "I should be going." She said in almost a whisper. "I will speak with you both another time. I have a patrol in the morning as duty, and should get sleep."

The huntsman nodded. "It was good to see you, Wendy, sleep well." He said.

Hyandai muttered something unintelligible and smiled weakly toward the girl as Wendy fled from the tent in a bit more rush than the situation warranted. A look of deep unhappiness settled into Hyandai's features.

"I may have just done something terribly unfair." Hyandai said, watching the flap as it settled into place over the entryway.

Coming to her side, Harlen put his arm about her shoulders. "What is it, Hyandai?" He asked.

"I fear I just accused, tried, and carried out the sentence upon Wendy." She murmured.

"What?" Harlen asked; his face baffled. "I don't understand."

Hyandai turned her emerald gaze upon him. "I was bringing Wendy to our bed." She said, her eyes level and her expression was unapologetic. "Or, rather, I was bringing her to you, seeking that we bring her to our bed."

Harlen gaped at her a moment. "Bring her to our bed?" He asked. "As in the three of us?"

She nodded. "It is not unusual among elven couples to share their bed when one is attorsai between them, or both." Hyandai explained. "I should not have assumed it would work with a human mate, or a human third partner." She shook her head and looked at him. "I am sorry for putting you in a spot of discomfort."

Harlen looked toward the flap. "I think, perhaps, Wendy is the one who was discomfited, and you, actually." He said. "It sounds like you were thinking of offering me something most men only fantasize about. What does ator-sigh mean?"

She thought a moment. "It means attracted to both male and females." Hyandai said. "Though I am not sure I am one."

"Just wanted to try it out?" Harlen guessed, eyeing her speculatively.

A slow nod was the only answer she gave.

"Perhaps tomorrow, if we tarry here a day, you can speak to Wendy again." Harlen said.

Hyandai shook her head. "If she returns to Morrovale before we leave for Windir, I will speak to her." She said. "If not, then another time later. But I wish to be starting for town tomorrow, if we can."

A look of concentration crossed Harlen's face. "Yes. It would probably be best to get the Ehladrel out of the wilds." He said distantly, eyeing the elven weapon again.

"I know you do not like the Ehladrel, beloved." Hyandai said. "But please know my people need it, badly. There are matters afoot that demand we have it in our possession."

There was a quiet knock on the wooden beam over the entry flap. "Hyandai?" A feminine voice called from outside. It was not Wendy's.

Hyandai walked to the door, peering out. It was Maegan. Her face was flush with concern and upset. "Wendy says she must speak with you. She is most unreasonable." All traces of the young lady's former inebriation were gone, replaced by this earnest worry.

A quick glance back at Harlen was all Hyandai needed. He nodded to her silently. She quickly donned a set of normal clothes, another short skirt and half top, and asked Maegan to lead the way.

The two other women left as Hyandai entered the tent, casting hasty glances of worry toward Wendy as they did so. She sat upon a small cot, her hands idly lying, palms upward, in her lap. Her head was down and she was weeping.

"Wendy?" Hyandai asked, crouching low in the low-ceilinged tent and walking to the sitting girl.

Wendy looked up. "I asked her not to speak to you of this." She said; her face marked by tears and mild anger.

"She is your friend." Hyandai said. "I thought I was, also. But now I doubt my credentials in that." She sat beside Wendy. "I apologize for that jealousy that surfaced in our tent, sweet Wendy."

Wiping the tears from her cheeks, Wendy said, "It is my own fault. I should have told you about Harlen and me knowing each another, but I did not even think he would remember these years later." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "The truth of it is I am upset that you no longer wished to be with me, nothing to do with Harlen. Not that he is not a fine man, and one I would happily give myself to." She quickly amended.

A broad smile spread Hyandai's lips. "Those are matters easily fixed, Wendy." She said. "Come."

Hyandai rose and held out her hand. The girl looked at it a moment. "No fits of jealousy?" She asked.

She was answered by a shake of the head. "Come." Hyandai said, again.

Slowly, Wendy put her hand into Hyandai's. The elven woman led her from the tent and walked beside her toward the center of the camp. Again, they entered the tent she shared with Harlen. Once again, they also found him sharpening his sword; almost exactly as they had found him an hour before.

"Lom'wanwie." Hyandai said as the two women looked at the rather wide-eyed man. Wendy gave her an inquiring look. "Echo of the past." Hyandai explained.

Harlen smiled wryly, his lopsided smile. "Are we repeating the entire past?" He asked.

Hyandai shook her head, at the exact instant Wendy did. The two young women then looked at each other and giggled. Harlen simply raised one eyebrow.

Hyandai urged Wendy to sit next to Harlen upon the cot, and she sat on the other side of the girl.

"There are certain rules to Nellarim, Wendy." She said. "They are simple, though, and not very restrictive. You must never seek to be with but one of us and you must be prepared to stop if either of the pair decides it is to end."

Wendy nodded, her expression sober.

"And, most importantly, you must enjoy yourself." Hyandai said with a broad smile, stroking Wendy's long, nearly-blue hair. "And enjoy us. As we will enjoy you and ourselves."

Setting down the sword, Harlen turned to the young woman, and, like Hyandai, began to stroke the girl's soft hair. It was rather interesting for both of them to watch Wendy try to look and lean her head both directions at once.

Hyandai leaned forward and kissed the young woman first, though, tilting the girl's head toward herself with a single finger on her cheek. The sight of the two pretty women kissing sent a jolt through Harlen's body, and his organ pulsed to life instantly, thickening and hardening in seconds.

As the two parted lips, Wendy turned toward him, her head tilted back slightly and her eyes still closed. Harlen leaned down and kissed her, still tasting cinnamon on her lips as he parted them with his tongue. There were hands in his hair, and he could hear Wendy's breath sharpening. He peered with one eye to see Hyandai's hands moving down the young woman's shoulders toward her breasts.

Her cloak was open in the front, revealing fair, smooth skin beneath. One small breast was visible to him, and he reached for it, while continuing to kiss Wendy.

Hyandai giggled as Harlen's and her own hands collided headed toward opposite breasts. This caused him to break the kiss and smile as well. Wendy, however simply turned about again, opening her blue eyes and regarding Hyandai. Her body was warming up unnaturally with two very different touches upon her breasts, one strong and calloused, the other soft and feather light. Both nipples hardened like tiny stones under the disparate touches.

Wendy's slender fingers began to explore, one hand moving to Hyandai's bare, silky thigh, and the other to the rough twill of Harlen's pants. Harlen watched as Hyandai leaned down and kissed the girl's neck, causing Wendy to gasp and move her head toward him, stretching the tendons on Hyandai's side taut. Her pretty eyes fluttered open and Harlen kissed her, he thrilled when her tiny tongue darted into his mouth, and he heard her moan softly. And both Harlen and Hyandai felt the girl's grip tighten upon their thigh, sending soft twinges of pleasure up their legs.

As this was Hyandai's idea, primarily, Harlen allowed her to set the pace. She stood, a moment later, gently dislodging Wendy's grip upon her leg. Wendy broke the kiss with Harlen to look at the elven lady. A smile broke across her pretty face when Hyandai untied her skirt and let it fall to the floor, revealing her lower half to the girl. She then slipped the shoulders straps off and let the top join them, exposing her round, firm breasts with their tiny, sharp nipples and pink areolas.

It was Harlen's turn to gasp when Wendy's hand idly moved up his thigh as she watched Hyandai slowly stripping. She suddenly had his manhood in her grasp through the rough weave of his pants, and was squeezing it without even realizing she had hold of him.

Hyandai looked down at the lump in Wendy's grip and grinned, this was when Wendy realized what she was doing and looked herself. Her eyes flashed up to Harlen's and her face flushed pink, but she did not relinquish her hold. She instead shifted her grip down to the base of it, shaping the cloth of his pants to his organ itself.

Harlen smiled as the girls' strong grip took hold of him, and the electric sensation of that touch was making his mind go a bit fuzzy, as it always did with new partners, and with Hyandai, every time, he had found.

Hyandai said. "I see you've found my man's parts.", Her grin growing very wide. Both the others' eyes moved to her, realizing that they had not spoken, any of them, for a long while.

With a sound much like a squeak, Wendy said. "Yes.", Her blush deepening. Harlen felt her grip on him tighten yet again, causing him to gasp in pleasure.

"I would see you hold it for real." Hyandai said, lowering herself to her knees and unfastening Harlen's belt. Wendy let loose his cock and watched Hyandai a moment, then helped the elven woman pull his pants down. Harlen laid back and lifted his rump, allowing the two women to slide the cloth over his rump then off his legs. 

Before his pants were fully removed, he felt moist warmth and extreme pleasure engulf the head of his cock. He glanced down and was somewhat surprised to see it was Wendy's lips encircling the head of his pole, her lips stretched around the shaft and her cheeks caved in slightly with gentle suction.

Hyandai's eyes widened as well at Wendy's display of sudden boldness, and her smile, already broad, broadened still farther. She moved forward and applied her tongue to the shaft and to Harlen's scrotum, moving his testicles with her eager flicking tongue.

Harlen was beyond in heaven now, the sensation far better than any he had imagined he would ever feel. Two warm, inviting mouths moved about his genitals, licking here, sucking there. One glance would take in Hyandai's beautiful face as she slid her tongue over the long shaft, another would witness Wendy's lovely countenance as her mouth took a testicle into it and gently massaged it with her tongue. He was unable to restrain himself for long, with such overwhelming visual and tactile stimulation, especially when added to the scent of lilac coming from Wendy's hair and the cinnamon odor from Hyandai mixing to produce a perfume of unsurpassed subtlety that even engaged his nose in the arousal.

He thought his climax was inevitable, when both women stopped touching his organ. With a sound almost like a whimper, he looked down to see them now kissing over the head of his cock, their tongues moving back and forth as their lips did not quite touch. He quickly forgot about his own stimulation and became fascinated at the display of affection between the two ladies.

Hyandai's hand was moving down the girl's belly as they both leaned back. They turned at his knees to face one another directly, both upon their own knees. Wendy's slim hands were moving on Hyandai's body, as well, exploring her curves and gently stroking her skin with soft fingertips and sharp nails.

The two touched for a long moment, their finger moving idly over skin and eliciting moans from each other as they each found spots of interest and touched places they knew they liked to be touched upon themselves. They seemed to avoid each others' most private of places though. Harlen thought perhaps they were too nervous for that step yet.

Hyandai was more than willing, as her thoughts would prove. She simply wished to savor every moment, before moving to Wendy's maidenhood. She let her fingers feel the girl's very smooth, soft skin, almost like her own, save a shade or two darker.

For her part, Wendy was nervous, and awaited Hyandai's lead on moving to more intimate places upon the elf's body.

"Not feeling left out, are you Harlen?" Wendy said, responding to the pitiable sound he had made a moment before.

"Certainly not now." He said, smiling and scooting back on the cot to be sure no part of him came between the two women for the moment. "Please, just keep doing what you wish."

Hyandai turned almost drunken-looking eyes upon Harlen. "Fret not, lover, we will tend to you shortly." She said. Her voice was husky, for Hyandai, and sounded a bit slurred. "You." She looked at Wendy with her eyes narrowing and her face taking on an almost mischievous look. "I will tend to now." She said, and one hand grasped the girl's off-blue hair in knotted fingers.

The elf moved forward, gently forcing the younger woman back and then down as their bodies pressed to one another, with Hyandai on top when Wendy was fully prone upon the floor, with her knees bent back. The elven lady was lying upon Wendy now, kissing and biting the girl's neck, and causing her to gasp and moan by turns. The long thigh that Hyandai pushed up between Wendy's thighs and against her groin rubbed the girl as the elf moved about, causing Wendy to twitch and push to make the touch more or less forceful as she needed at that moment.

"Exquisite." Hyandai murmured as she moved her thigh from between Wendy's legs and replaced it with one of her slim hands. From where he laid back and relaxed, Harlen could see his beloved opening the girl's entrance with her fingers, slipping two into Wendy and causing her to groan loudly and grip Hyandai's forearm with both hands. The elf winced a bit at the clutching grab, as Wendy was massively stronger than her, and it did hurt a bit, but she could not blame the girl for her enthusiasm.

The feeling of wet, slick warmth caused Hyandai to grow more aroused herself, and she wished to pleasure this woman more now. The elf began to trace out a path with her tongue and lips down Wendy's body. This caused both Harlen and Wendy to sit up and watch her. She realized she had an audience and began to really act it out. Extending her tongue to its full extension and leaving a glistening trail behind her as she moved. 

Hyandai soon was near her destination, slipping her tongue through the fine hairs of the girl's pubic mound. As she finished that last obstacle to her goal, she pulled forth her two fingers and used them to hold the girl's opening wide. She smiled as she extended her tongue and flicked the clitoris of the young woman. Wendy gasped loudly this time, and her hands both moved down and knitted her fingers into the elf's long red hair.

Harlen secretly wondered how long it would take for Wendy to pull on Hyandai's hair and force the elf's mouth onto her crotch.

About that long. He decided as Wendy gave out a guttural grunt and pulled Hyandai's hair, hard, too, from the look of it, and gasped in relief as Hyandai buried her tongue into her cunt. As Wendy felt her tiny tongue lapping at her inside and out, she looked at Harlen. "Come." She said, her voice completely devoid of shyness.

Harlen sat up and moved to the floor upon his knees. Wendy took hold of his hips and positioned him with his knees just above and on either side of her head. She parted her warm lips and drew his cock into her mouth, tilting her head back and pulling on his hips urging him forward.

Finally, he got the hint and began pumping his organ into the young girl's mouth, still helping him thrust by pulling firmly on his hips and rump. She had totally surrendered her own control of his depth within her mouth and throat, and Harlen was too excited to restrain himself much. He did note, however, that he was actually holding himself back according to the force she was applying to his rump with her outstretched fingers.

He let go of that restriction on his movement and plunged into her mouth, planning to stop when her hands slackened up their pressure. He was instead stopped by her jaw and nose, as his cock buried itself completely into her mouth and throat. He grunted as he pulled it forth, and felt his organ newly slick with her throat's slick lubrication. She pulled once again, forcing him into her and taking him to the base. Soon, though, he had the idea, and her hands once again moved to Hyandai's soft hair. He continued thrusting into her mouth and felt his climax building, even more intensely than before. 

With a last, shuddering gasp, he spent himself, ramming his organ completely into her and holding it there for a long moment as it twitched and pulsed inside her throat.

Finally, he drew it out completely, and he heard her suck in air in a great heave. Now her pelvis was pushing up to meet Hyandai's mouth and tongue, and Wendy was groaning loudly with each push.

Hyandai had watched the whole thing as Harlen had taken the girl's mouth and come into her. She smiled to herself, knowing that if this were such as three would be in bed, then she would probably seek it out more in the future. Hopefully, with this very girl. She loved the smooth slickness of Wendy's vagina around her tongue and the smell of lilac was very appealing.

She felt Wendy's grip on her hair tighten and sensed the girl was about to climax herself. Leaving her tongue out of the girl's opening, she concentrated on the nub of her clitoris, lapping and sucking at the little knob of flesh as she slipped the two fingers back into Wendy's cunt.

Wendy screamed, pulling Hyandai's hair painfully as she tugged in ecstasy and closed her thighs upon the elf's head. Her opening contracted around Hyandai's fingers many times as the girl grunted and ground her hips against her mouth and hand. Wendy finally subsided and relaxed letting her fingers straighten, but leaving them in Hyandai's hair.

"One's Praise." Wendy said, gasping for air. "May I do that for you, Hyandai?" She asked, her eyes hopeful.

Hyandai giggled. "I was hoping you wanted to." She said.

Harlen was sitting back on his haunches, watching the two as they sat up again, Hyandai helping Wendy regain her knees. "Sit upon the bed's edge." Wendy instructed and put her hand upon the cot's rail.

Hyandai stood up and did so, happily obliging the young woman. She sat down and petted the off-blue hair as the girl moved to kneel just before her. 

"Now, lay back, milady, and let me taste you." Wendy said. "I have sampled half the couple's flavors, and wish to complete the set."

Hyandai smiled as she laid back, moving a pillow behind her head so she could watch the girl's eyes as she lowered her head between Hyandai's thighs.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 14



A curl of one slim digit brought Harlen to Hyandai's side. "Kiss me." She said.

Harlen leaned down, and kissed her gently. Then his eyes went wide as she fed him fresh energy. More than she had ever before. He could feel it pulsing in him, filling him up, like a wineskin filled to bursting. His organ hardened, and grew, as if to support that impression. When Hyandai's fingers encircled his girth, she smiled again, her eyes lustful and flashing bright green.

"Now, take her." Hyandai said, flicking her eyes toward Wendy.

Harlen nodded, and rose from the bed. Wendy, a bit nervously, watched him move about her, then turned her eyes back to Hyandai as he moved past her range of vision. She was worried, slightly, for she was virginal yet, but she was eager to let him begin.

Wendy felt Harlen's strong hands on her hips as he knelt behind her. She tried to encourage him by parting her legs, adopting a wanton pose on her knees. She then arched her back, presenting herself to him.

"Are you ready, Wendy?" Harlen asked, solicitously.

Wendy nodded eagerly, though her eyes held a trace of lingering fear. Hyandai stroked her hair and comforted her.

"It will only hurt a little, and I have ways of dealing even with that." Hyandai said quietly.

Harlen pressed his thick cock against the girl's opening, letting it rub against her soft, folded petals. She was still very wet from Hyandai's gentle and eager ministrations. His organ slid easily into her, spreading her open and almost burying half of itself into her. 

She groaned and her eyes squeezed shut, a tear breaking loose from each eye and trickling down her cheeks.

Harlen stopped, deep concern marking his face. "I will await your comfort." He said, stroking her back and shoulders.

She pulled her mouth from Hyandai's dripping crotch and looked over her shoulder. Gripping the rail of the bed with both hands, she pushed back, driving the remaining half of his organ into herself. She cried out in pain, but also with triumph as her rump ran up against his belly.

Taken totally by surprise by this sudden move, Harlen gasped and moved as if to pull back, Hyandai warned him with a minute shake of her head to hold his position.

Wendy moved forward, taking a quick lap at Hyandai's clitoris, then pushed back again, more forcefully. She grunted out again, but more quietly, and there was an undertone of moan to the sound. She did this over and over, for almost a minute, her moaning becoming more noticeable, and the groaning of pain becoming less so. She smiled back again at Harlen. 

"Now, lover, I have mastered even your size." Wendy said.

Harlen chuckled and leaned down and kissed Wendy, then sat back up and began thrusting into her slowly, in long even strokes. Wendy now only moaned, and did so into the muffling flesh of Hyandai's cunt.

Hyandai closed her eyes again, relaxing into the pleasure of Wendy's clever tongue and the little shocks that passed through the girl from Harlen's slow, even thrusts. She idly stroked the girl's hair as Wendy flicked and licked her clitoris. Her climax was slow in coming, but Hyandai eagerly anticipated how intense it would likely be when it finally arrived.

Harlen grunted as he closed in on his own, though, and Hyandai smiled as he cried out Wendy's name. Her jealousy had been bested, and she eagerly took in the passion that the two were sharing for a moment. Hyandai was secure that Harlen's heart was hers, even if other women enjoyed his manhood.

Hyandai watched the girl's eyes widen as she felt Harlen's seed coat her womb, then close again as she fell back into the pleasure found in giving others pleasure. 

Harlen continued to thrust into the young woman, though, and soon realized his organ was not going soft, as he usually did after a massive release like the one he had just had. He looked at Hyandai who only winked at him between gasps.

He redoubled his efforts now and began to give Wendy more and more forceful thrusts. The girl seemed to not mind one bit, as she met each with a slight backward push of her own.

Hyandai finally felt her orgasm reaching up to her spine, and snaking along it like a trail of burning oil. Her fingers gripped tighter to Wendy's hair, exactly as the younger woman's fingers had done in her own.

Wendy felt it too, and tried a repeat of the trick used upon her. Locking her lips onto the circle around Hyandai's clitoris, she sucked and continued flicking the tiny knob with her tongue. She pushed two fingers into the elf next, and was pleased when the trick that had worked so notably on her worked on Hyandai just as well, if not better.

Hyandai bucked upward, as if she had sat upon a spike, pressing her opening to Wendy's lips. She tossed her head back and forth, her fiery red hair flying all about her like a corona. Finally, as an utter peak to her climax, she screamed, loudly. It was not a short burst of sound, but a long, reverberating thing that caused a sympathetic sound from somewhere, a faint echo in a slightly different tone.

When she stopped, it stopped, but not before Harlen twisted his head around and triangulated on the echo. It was the Ehladrel. As Hyandai's scream died down, he could have sworn that the grayish-silver metal of the blade had faintly pulsed blue.

He watched Hyandai, as she laid panting, like a winded beast. "Well." Hyandai said, and let her head fall back onto the pillow.

Wendy looked back at Harlen, grinning. "She's at a loss for words?" She asked quietly.

Harlen raised an eyebrow. "It would be a first." He said, smiling back at Wendy.

Hyandai raised one hand from her thigh where it had fallen when she had released Wendy's head, the hand had a finger extended, and it was waggling in chastisement. "I am laying right here, you know?" She said.

Wendy pulled herself forward, feeling a sudden emptiness when Harlen's cock withdrew from her. "Pleasure your betrothed with that unfailing rod of yours." She said, eyeing his swollen organ appreciatively. "I am sore. Also, by my count, Hyandai is one behind each of us for climaxes."

Hyandai shook her finger again. "No, no." She said. "I need none of THAT!" She squealed as Harlen mounted her in one hard, fast stroke. Her emerald eyes shot open and she regarded her betrothed. 

"Sneaky devil." She said, smiling.

Hyandai's slender fingers gripped Harlen's waist and encouraged him to take her more forcefully. "I may have given too much." She said, her face wincing very slightly. "You're bigger than normal."

Harlen nodded as he pumped into her. "I agree, angel, it feels near bursting."

She giggled. "I can feel every vein." She said. "Not that doing so is something to complain of."

Looking down, Harlen did see that it was swollen mightily, and the veins were prominent. As he watched, he saw something moving down there not of him or Hyandai. It was Wendy's slim hand. She was doing something down there, out of sight, Harlen thought.

Hyandai gasped and her eyes grew wide. "That's a new feeling." She said, then she groaned loudly, her eyes squeezing shut again. Harlen's curiosity was quickly satisfied when he felt Wendy's fingers moving over his backside, then felt one slim digit open him, it was slick, possibly with someone's juices. It slid easily and gently into his rectum and then wiggled slightly within him.

Hyandai began to grunt more earnestly, and she dug her fingernails into Harlen's flanks. He sped up his thrusts to help her over the edge to another climax, but managed to achieve his own, as his increased rate also forced Wendy's finger more rapidly into and back out of his sphincter.

Hyandai and he climaxed together, both of them crying out and clutching at one another as they felt their nerves burst into heat like flames. At some point during their orgasms, Wendy had gently withdrawn her intruding little fingers, and was smiling at them as the both turned to her.

"And we thought you inexperienced." Hyandai said appreciatively.

Wendy grinned. "Amazing what one learns hanging about with Maegan, hmm?" She said. She crossed her arms over her chest in a self-satisfied manner. "You said you could make this initial hurt lessen?"

With a smile Hyandai said. "Yes, lay down in my place." She sat up and stood, moving somewhat less gracefully than normal.

When Wendy had gotten into position, Hyandai said. "This is going to feel a bit odd, but it will work."

She pressed her lips to Wendy's opening and blew. The girl gasped, then giggled. When Hyandai lifted her mouth from the girl's vagina, she let her tongue trail over her swollen clit on the way up.

"Better now?" Hyandai asked.

Wendy blinked a few times. "Yes." She said, smiling. "How did you..." She started to ask.

"Old elven healing trick." Hyandai interrupted. "It's useful." Harlen nodded agreement.

Her fingers felt around her opening. "It doesn't even hurt a little." Wendy said. Then pouted somewhat. "Like nothing happened. A slight pain would be a pleasant little reminder." She murmured.

"Well, then, next time we can leave you all bruised up." Hyandai said, feigning annoyance. "Like I have to do every time I take this man's oversized prod." She poked Harlen in the ribs playfully.

It was Harlen's turn to pretend annoyance. "You're the one telling me to go harder and faster." He said, raising his voice in mock indignation.

"Now, now, no fighting on my account." Wendy said, patting both of them on the shoulders. "Unless you wish to wrestle over me, or better, with me."

Harlen grabbed the girl around the ribs and bore her to the floor gently while Hyandai grappled her legs. Harlen wiggled one hand free and began tickling Wendy, causing her to giggle and wriggle deliciously. Hyandai, on the other hand, began to tickle the girl's feet. Wendy was soon short of breath.

"I YIELD!" Wendy screamed. Still giggling as they both let her go. "Yeesh, never fight against a couple of lovers, they fight dirty." She said, sitting up.

Hyandai looked questioningly at Harlen, giving her eyes a quick flick at Wendy. Harlen nodded.

Grabbing Wendy around the neck and hugging her. Hyandai said. "A trio of lovers, when you are with us, Wendy."

Harlen embraced both of the slight women in his powerful arms and squeezed, causing both to gasp. "Yeah." Croaked out Wendy. "A trio."

The sun was peering over the lower passes as they peeked out the flap of the tent. "Oh dear." Said Wendy. "I've a patrol in an hour and I'm going to be exhausted." She smiled back at the couple. "Not that it wasn't worth it." She added.

Hyandai kissed her, and gave the young woman her breath. Wendy's eyes widened and she sighed out the air.

"Wow." Wendy said. "Is that what you did to make Harlen swell so big?" She asked.

Hyandai nodded.

Wendy giggled. "No wonder." She said. "That's good stuff. I hate to kiss and run, but I need to get dressed for the march."

He gave Wendy a quick kiss and they sent her off. She seemed to be almost skipping as she headed to her part of the camp.

Hyandai leaned against him. "Still distrust my Lust?" She asked.

Harlen blinked. "I suppose it might have advantages." He murmured grudgingly.

"Might?" Hyandai asked, eyes wide with astonishment. "I heard you cry out that 'might's' name last night."

The lopsided grin had appeared on Harlen's face. "We'll have to try a few more times for me to be sure." He replied. "Just in case this was a fluke."

Hyandai narrowed her eyes now. "Fluke." She said dryly. "We'll see. She rotates back to reserve status in three weeks. We'll see then if she's a fluke."

Harlen nodded. "You really like her, don't you?" He asked.

"Very much, beloved." She replied. "She is much like me."

Harlen grinned. "I noticed." He said.

"We should probably leave today, though. I need to get the Ehladrel to the Windirii, then we can go home."

A broader grin crossed Harlen's face. "Home?" He asked. "You mean my house?"

Hyandai smiled back. "Well, I don't expect you to try to climb trees." She said.



The Solitary Arrow Ch. 15



The bright sun of morning did little to warm the day. A chill northern breeze brought winds down from the mountains and whipped the turning leaves into orange and brown blizzards.

Hyandai clutched her cloak about herself. "I dislike fall." She said to Harlen, peering back over her shoulder at him.

Eying the trees as they denuded themselves for the winter, Harlen nodded. "It's colorful, at least." He said, plodding behind her as they passed through a small gap between two large brambles.

They had been marching for five hours, and Harlen had declared that the road should be just ahead any moment. The sun was still well over the horizon and they had plenty of travel time remaining. Harlen moved a bit faster to walk aside her as they passed the narrow cleft.

"Teach me elven." He said, suddenly.

Hyandai blinked a few times. "Just like that?" She asked.

Harlen smiled. "Uh-huh." He said, nodding.

Turning her eyes to him, she said. "It will take time."

"Start by naming things we see and actions we take." Harlen suggested, pointing to a rock nearby. "What is a large stone like that called?"

Hyandai glanced down along his extended arm. "Ureondo." She said. "Large rock. But you could also call it a Uregond."

"Do all elven words have two expressions?" Harlen asked.

"No." Hyandai said. She began to tell him the elven words for other objects they passed, and for things they did as they walked.

---

"Miqula, hmm?" Harlen said as they parted lips. "Good to know."

They walked onward, as the sun sank toward the rolling hills as they moved southward now, at a much better pace, following the old Norboro Road.

Hyandai laughed. "Would you prefer me to teach you some 'practical' elven words?" She asked, grabbing him around the waist and moving her slender fingers around his belt, following it to his front.

Harlen chuckled, also, but said. "I think, perhaps we would both like to get home for any more education in the useful elven phrases."

With a mocking pout, Hyandai unhanded his belt buckle and slid around him kissing his cheek as she turned back to face down the road. 

"Are we getting near?" She asked, gazing ahead into the misty distance.

Harlen squinted ahead and said. "Perhaps we will arrive shortly after dark." He said. "Unless you would rather make camp?"

A quick shake of the head answered him.

"The Ehladrel made a sound when you screamed earlier." Harlen said.

Hyandai decided that she would need to grow used to his sudden non-sequiturs. "What do you mean, beloved?" She asked, turning her head to watch him.

"Well, when you had release," he replied, "it sort of echoed you, like it was singing along."

There was a long pause as Hyandai pondered this. "You are sure it was echoing me, and not just a reverberation off the tent walls or some such?" She asked.

Harlen nodded.

"Perhaps, as the last person to channel it, I am 'attuned' in some way to it." Hyandai offered. "But, I have never heard of it having such properties."

Harlen looked at her. Hyandai's eyes seemed to show honest surprise at his revelation.

"It flashed very faintly, too." Harlen said. "Right as you stopped screaming."

She looked down at her side, where the weapon hung, wrapped in a sheet of leather that Harlen had sewn into a makeshift pouch. The pouch was draped over her shoulder to just under her right arm by a long leather strap. The blade's tip barely managed to stay clear of the ground.

"I am afraid that I do not know all the properties that it possesses." Hyandai said. "I was more interested in the reacquiring it for my clan than using it myself. It was always our intent for Eleean to use the blade."

Harlen nodded at this, and glanced over at the sun as it touched the edge of the horizon. "It will be darkening soon." He commented. "I think it better if we proceed, as well. I would like to spend the night in our bed."

The elf's face spread in a wide smile at the word 'our.' She leaned over and kissed Harlen's shoulder.

---

True to his word, almost exactly two hours after full dark, as the moon was just cresting over the Worldspine Mountains west, they came to their home. There was only one candle burning in the entry foyer, as was normal for after Trevir had gone to bed. 

Harlen went through the house and out the back while Hyandai tended to their backpacks.

Knocking gently on Trevir's door, Harlen heard a muzzy voice. "Who's that?" Trevir asked.

"It's me." Harlen replied, opening the door a crack. "Just letting you know Hyandai and I are returned, and that we will talk to you tomorrow. Good rest to you, Trev."

"And to you, Master Harlen." Trevir said, smiling. "I'm glad you're home."

As he walked back into the house, Harlen found Hyandai already moving gear from the packs and into storage in the workroom. She had also shed her traveling cloak and her boots.

She padded up to him and kissed him soundly. "Welcome home." She said quietly.

Harlen put his powerful arms about her and pulled her tight to him, she smiled and leaned against his broad chest, folding her arms before her so that she was being coddled. They stood like that a long moment, enjoying the touch, sound, and the smell of one another.

Finally, after long moments of simply enjoying being held, Hyandai looked up. "Are we ready to sleep or just for bed?" She asked, raising both eyebrows inquiringly.

Harlen smiled. "I'm very tired, but if such joy is in the offing." He replied.

She slid her hands around him and gripped both his buttocks in her small hands, pulling them toward her. "It is quite in the offing." She said.

His arms released her and she turned about, and took one of his hands, leading him up the stairs, looking back from time to time with a wide grin.

"You know, this amount of activity is not very elven." She said as they arrived at the top of the wooden stairs. "But, I have to say, I think I prefer the human way in this matter, very much."

Harlen chuckled. "I'll try to increase the frequency, if that will help you feel more 'elven.'" He said.

Throwing him a look of fictitious alarm, she said. "You know that is not what I meant." She said. "Elven couples are considered 'active' if they make love once a week."

A look of deep consideration came over Harlen's face. "That would explain the low numbers." He mused.

Hyandai giggled and looked at him. "I suppose I am simply doing my part to get those numbers back up." She said, her face taking on a look of righteousness. "We elven folk thank you for your assistance in that odious endeavor."

He pushed her back gently to the bed, pinning her against one of the great oaken posts. "It's a sacrifice I know I must make." He said, then kissed her, slipping his fingers into her thick mane of red hair. 

When he knotted them into the tresses, she gasped and her face became flushed. He pulled back gently, forcing her head to tilt back and exposing her exquisitely slim neck to his gaze and to his lips. Bending down, he began to kiss and suck on the exposed, taut flesh of her throat, eliciting small moans and gasps from her with each touch.

Once again, Harlen marveled at her responsiveness and her general magnetism, as she parted her lips and breathed heavily, he found himself desiring to take her, and to do so roughly. She would let him, and gladly accept him, he knew.

He undressed her slowly, pausing at moments to allow her to do the same to him. They removed one article of clothing, then another. Soon, however, they stood before one another nude and thoroughly aroused.

"I would take you forcefully." He murmured into her ear as he gently licked at the pointed shell. "If you will allow it."

She smiled upon him. "Of course, betrothed." She said in return. "Ever, you have been gentle with me. If once, you wish to do so a bit more, well, wantonly, then I would welcome it, as well.

Harlen smiled and put his hands on her flanks, just at the bottom of her ribs. With a grunt he lifted her and threw her back onto the bed, landing her almost dead center as she bounced slightly.

Harlen started crawling up after her. She flipped over and stood upon her hands and knees. There was a somewhat feral look in her emerald eyes.

"If you wish to take me roughly, my lover," She said, a threatening tone in her soprano voice, "then you must best me, and take me in your victory."

Harlen smiled slightly at her challenge, and he lunged for her.

Hyandai's remarkable reflexes prevented him getting a hold upon her, and she was now kneeling at the right headboard corner of the bed, watching him carefully and even wagging her backside, preparing to leap aside should he come at her again.

He did, casting his arms wide to encompass anything that he could. Gracefully, she bounded aside, almost like a startled cat, leaping up and over him, again landing on all fours.

"If you do not catch me soon, you will be too winded to take what is rightfully yours." She said, teasing him. "I have no energy to spare for a man who cannot even cat . . .."

She was interrupted by Harlen's next charge, wrapping one massive arm about her waist; he funneled her into the area directly before him.

She tried a desperate gamble to elude his grasping hands, spinning about she tried to spring forth and grip one of the massive posts, intending to pivot around it and come back onto the bed behind him. 

However, his strong hands locked onto her shoulders as she gathered up her muscles to leap. Forcing her shoulders to the mattress, he found himself behind her, with her shapely legs folded partially beneath her.

Hyandai's head came around, and he saw teeth flash for his neck. Harlen pulled back and moved one hand from her shoulder into her thick hair. Taking hold of a massive fistful of the hair, he forced her head back down to the covers and held her there.

"You will have to let my head or my shoulder go to take me." She taunted, her voice gravelly with some deep growl.

Pushing his elbow down right between her shoulder blades, he held her down with one arm, reaching between their bodies, and aiming his organ at her entrance from behind. She tried to wriggle her hips aside.

Harlen reflexively smacked her backside as she attempted to move herself out of his way. This earned him a startled gasp and moan from Hyandai as she felt the shock of his spanking.

The random movements of her rump ceased and he aimed again for her tight entrance. Once his cock had pushed up against it, he felt moisture at her opening.

His aim was checked by his hand again, then he shoved himself into her, slapping her butt again with his lower abdomen. Hyandai cried out as he spread her wide and took her deeply, filling her with his cock. She glared up at him in a mocking fury; however, the response of her body betrayed how much she really enjoyed it.

Thrusting into her, he thought for a moment about going a bit easier, watching her face grimace with a mix of pleasure and pain from the rough handling her intimate places were receiving. She pushed her rear back to receive each of his thrusts, and he could feel it beginning to well up in him, the release he so desired.

However, Hyandai was far more aroused than he even guessed by the manhandling he was tendering her. Within minutes, her climax tore through her, sending sharp shudders throughout her tiny body.

With her immediate needs at least partially sated, Harlen began to grow rougher with her, plowing into her cunt with increasing force and speed. Sweat was dripping from his bangs as he brought his swollen organ home over and over, feeling her receive it.

Hyandai was coated in a sheen of perspiration, as well, and he doubted not she was trying just as hard as he, working toward individual, but shared goals.

The man's orgasm was imminent, and he at last gave her every ounce he could muster of strength and desperation and lust and hunger. Her body quaked with each impact of his pelvis as his organ rammed into her, knocking her breath from her lungs with each entry.

Finally, he came. Grasping her hair tightly in his hand, and pulling back, he lifted her by her thick hair to standing upright upon her knees before him. He spilled himself into her, pulsing stream after stream into her tight entrance, and up into her womb. Her groans were exciting him farther, and he gave her a final few fierce thrusts, that lifted her from her knees and caused her back to arch painfully, bringing her neck to his mouth and teeth.

He bit her neck for the last few grinding motions inside her. Then ultimately stopped.

Her thick hair was released by his fingers, and she fell forward onto the mattress, bouncing once and simply laying there gasping for air.

One emerald eye turned to regard him. "I love you." Hyandai said, her voice both hoarse and soft.

Harlen bent and kissed the nape of her neck gently. "And I love you." He replied. Her legs unfolded and he slowly sank atop her. He laid upon her a long moment, feeling her heart beat and her breathing.

"I hope I did not hurt you." Harlen finally said.

Hyandai smiled and wiggled her rump. "You did, a little, my lover." She said. "But I did ask for it, and very much I enjoyed it." A rather mischievous grin crossed her face. "Would you like to take me thus again?" She said, her eyes flashing.

"How could I refuse such a generous offer?" Harlen said, leaning down to kiss her. She gave him an infusion of whatever mysterious energy she could tap to grant him. Almost without pause, his manhood swelled back to full growth within her tender and well-used cunt.

He lifted her back up onto her knees, then started giving her his full power again. With fully renewed vigor, she found herself being roughly handled. His massive hands gripped her hips, and he slammed his cock into her over and over.

More and more force was poured into his actions, and within a brief time she was screaming out in her release again. His renewed erection did not falter, though, and he continued tearing into her. Her hands were entwined with the sheets and blanket, gripping them for purchase against the intense inertia he was expending into her private places.

Close on the heels of the prior, she had another orgasm, this time one that was quieter, but just as intense as the more vocal ones. As her orgasm again subsided, he felt the build up of his own release into her waiting opening.

Crying out "Hyandai!" He spilt forth his semen again. His entire body was wracked with tensed and quivering muscles. They all soon relaxed, far beyond the normal level of repose taken by most spent lovers. Harlen collapsed and rolled onto his side while Hyandai's legs simply slid down the bed, her feet hanging off the side. It was long minutes before either moved. All that could be heard in the room was gasping for air, and tiny moans escaping Hyandai's lips.

"I think I will now sleep." Hyandai said in almost a whisper as she crawled up the disheveled sheets to the big pillows at the headboard. 

Harlen marveled at how slowly she crawled, and how tired she looked now. When he attempted to rise, he found he could not. His organ throbbed, and was slightly reddened by the rough payment he had forced it to mete out.

He wound up crawling up beside her, just as slowly and lethargically. Hyandai rolled toward him, cuddling up against his chest in a tiny ball. He protectively wrapped his arms around her and felt her relax as sleep took her from the world of the waking.

Once Harlen was convinced she was fully resting, he allowed himself to drift off to dreamland as well.

---

The sound should not have awakened Harlen, so exhausted as he was. But it had.

His eyes snapped open and he sat up. Muscles in his back and sides screamed in protest to the movement, but they responded. Hyandai opened one eye blearily.

"What is it, beloved?" She whispered, her voice slurry with sleep and exhaustion.

Harlen glanced at the door. "I thought I heard something." He said, rising from the bed and padding to the wardrobe. He silently opened the wardrobe and drew out a long knife from a sheath tacked to the backside of its door.

Hyandai sat up, seeing the drawn weapon; she was as awake as he, now. She rolled out of the bed and silently moved beside him. There was a soft creak outside the bedroom, on the stairs, from the sound of it.

Someone was climbing the stairs, someone trying very hard to not be heard.

Harlen held out an arm and pushed Hyandai back slightly as he stepped back from the door, getting himself out of its path, should it swing inward suddenly. There was a minute click as the thumb latch on the far side was pushed down. Harlen brought up the knife and prepared to lunge.

The door swung open, followed by a cloaked shape. Harlen waited until it was mostly into the room and waited too long, the shape gasped and turned toward him, steel flashing in the dim moonlight coming in through the windows.

Harlen swung his knife, connecting with the figure's arm as it came up with a sword. There was a rasping sound as his blade slid over steel rings. The figure was wearing a mail shirt. It forced Harlen back with a feint with its sword, swinging it toward his head.

Hyandai was forced back also and was near the bed. She dove for the side of the bed, under which she had concealed the Ehladrel.

"Run, Hyandai." Harlen grunted as the shape pressed him back and another shape slipped unhampered into the room.

"No!" Hyandai shouted, "Never again!" She stood up, holding the Ehladrel in its leather covering.

The shape fighting back Harlen hissed something to the other in elven. Harlen recognized only the word 'Ehladrel.' Hyandai's eyes widened and she said a single word in elven, then reached into the leather case.

The second shape said a single word that seemed to fill the room with ambient noise as she spoke. She had a beautiful soprano voice, similar, but even richer than Hyandai's. The sound filled the room and as Hyandai pulled the leather, a flash emerged from the second elf's outstretched hand.

The air before that hand turned into an imperfect lens, as it seemed to compress, and form a tight, thick wave. That lens then shot forth and struck Hyandai in the chest.

Harlen watched, helpless, as his lover was lifted and flung bodily out the back window of the room, shattering it and the wooden frame it was set into. There was a soft thudding sound as she rolled down the sloped roof of the bathing room. The elven woman was hot on Hyandai's path, leaping to the window in one graceful jump.

The sword came down at Harlen again and he parried it with the small knife.

"You cannot beat me, human." The elf before him said. "Your little whore is already dead, and you will die too, just slightly sooner than your short-lived kind normally do."

The blade whistled around as the elf took a wide swing with it. Harlen leapt back and watched as the blade sank into the corner post of the bed with a solid and satisfyingly loud thunk.

Harlen came around with the knife and tried to stab his attacker, however, the elf raised his forearm and met Harlen's own forearm on the downward swing, knocking the knife from his grip in the process.

The huntsman, however, had learned a trick from Hyandai. His left hand had already started an uppercut as his knife arm was being blocked. He caught the elf in the chin with the sneaky punch. The elf flew back as if struck by a really big man, which coincidentally, was exactly true. The slight creature lost his grip on his sword and landed, sprawled upon the floor.

As Harlen moved forward to kick at the elf, the cloaked figure sprang back onto his feet with an odd and graceful motion of his legs and shoulders.

With a smooth and flowing motion of his arm, the elf struck Harlen in the chest with his palm. The blow hurt, but did not stop the large man.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 15



"You'll have to do better than that, elf." Harlen growled as he grabbed the slender man about the waist and lifted him from the floor. Accelerating across the room, Harlen aimed for a solid section of wall to smash this little man against.

Fists battered Harlen's head and shoulders, and boxed his ears so that they rang.

However, the hail of blows stopped when his momentum was cancelled by the solid stone and mortar wall. There was a huge whoosh of air by his ear as the elf was pinned against the wall and slammed into it with a human smashing him. There was a dull cracking sound in the elf's chest, and Harlen knew he had broken some of the smaller man's ribs.

Stepping back, Harlen let the elf go. The elf seemed to be toppling forward into a fall, but at the last second, changed course and lunged up at Harlen's throat, another blade gleaming in his fist. This one shorter than the sword, belatedly, Harlen realized it was his own knife.

The blade gouged deeply into Harlen's arm, and then across his chest in a shallow cut. Harlen dove back across the bed and landed nearly off the foot of the large four-poster. His upper half hung over the side precariously, but he saw above him the elf's sword. Gripping it in one hand Harlen lifted himself with it, then yanked it free of the wood with one quick pull.

The elf was leaping over the bed toward him as he brought the sword around in an intercepting motion.

Unable to still his forward momentum, the elf impaled his own leg upon the sword, running it through his upper thigh and out the back. He growled something in elven at Harlen and swung the knife again. 

Pain seared through Harlen's chest again as the dagger bit deeply into his flesh. "You will wish you had killed me first, you arrogant elven shit!" Harlen screamed, pulling the sword to the side, severing many tendons of the elf's inner thigh and ripping the large vessel and vein that fed blood to that leg.

Harlen could see the elf's eyes widen in realization that he was going to die in seconds. Blood sprayed from the wound in a huge fan. Dousing the bed and Harlen in a crimson mist.

The knife came back around, but Harlen caught the elf's wrist with his left hand, clamping down with every ounce of strength in his muscles. Harlen heard bones grinding together in the elf's wrist.

"And now, you self-righteous prick, you die." Harlen said and brought the sword's blade around and nearly cut through the elf's neck. There was a soft whimper from the elf as he collapsed onto the bed and ceased moving.

Harlen did not watch him for more than three heartbeats though, and bolted out the bedroom door.

--- 

Hyandai felt the flesh of her back pierced and cut by many shards of broken glass as she smashed bodily through it. Stunned, she was unable to control her fall, and landed upon her back on the sloped roof of the bathing room, still sliding.

The sound of tinkling glass and wooden thuds followed her as she slid inexorably downward. Her mind cringed realizing what was next, and in slow motion, she felt herself falling to the ground behind the house. The thud knocked what little air she still had in her free.

Attempting to lift her head, Hyandai found herself now lying upon her stomach, her left leg bent at an improbable angle. One eye was unable to see, something thick and opaque was flowing freely over it. Blood.

She gasped in air in a great gulp and felt around for the Ehladrel. As her fingers closed on the leather pouch that contained the weapon, a booted foot kicked it away from her.

"Let us help you join your short-lived human lover, shall we?" The female elf said in elven. Her voice was hard and cold, and just the sound of it sent a chill through Hyandai.

The same boot kicked Hyandai in the ribs, causing her to roll over to get away from the pain of another blow. She looked up with the one eye not covered in blood. The elven woman had tossed back her hood, and, much to Hyandai's relief, she was not known to her.

Interesting, Hyandai thought to herself, would knowing that her murderer was someone she knew and loved have made it so much worse? Yes, another part of her mind answered.

Hyandai locked her emerald eyes onto the silver orbs of her attacker. Nothing happened.

"Don't bother, human-breeder." The elf said, again in their native tongue. "I know of your mental abilities, it is why I was chosen to come after you."

With dreadful slowness, the elf drew out a long, triangular-bladed stiletto.

Hyandai cried out. "You would not!" Eyeing the ritual dagger.

"Oh, indeed I would." Said the elf with a malicious gleam in her silvern eyes. "The sacrificial dagger is used only to slay animals, and I say you have lowered yourself to such." She stooped nearer to Hyandai, hovering with her face mere inches from hers. "Your horrid golden eyes were bad, but to know a human made them green is by far worse. But, truly, I do not blame you so much as your fey, it made you weak."

Hyandai cringed as the elven woman rose up again, lifting the dagger over her bare chest chest.

With a last desperate surge of energy, Hyandai tried to stop the descending hands that aimed the blade for her heart. She managed only to deflect the blade slightly; she felt the point pierce into her, the pain shooting to every corner of her body as it buried itself into her chest.

The elf laughed a vicious, cruel note. "You just made it worse for yourself. I offered you a quick death, you stupid cur." She began to rise. "Now you will die sl . . .."

The elf woman's eyes widened as an arrow appeared in her chest, still quivering from the impact, she stumbled back, looking up from Hyandai out into the yard. She saw the elven altar standing there and her eyes widened when a shape moved from the shadows beside it. It appeared to be an elven man, he drew another arrow from his quiver and shot her again as she stood reeling, this arrow striking her shoulder and causing her to fall onto her rump.

"Mercy Ehladrim!" She cried out in desperation, holding up an imploring hand, coated in Hyandai's blood. "I work only to . . .." The third arrow buried itself into her heart and silenced her voice forever.

Hyandai turned her head and looked toward the altar and saw an elf running toward her for a brief moment, in her blurring vision. Then the shape focused into the form of Trevir, a bow clutched in his hand. He leaned over her.

"Miss Hyandai!" He exclaimed, seeing her wounds clearly now. Trevir dropped the bow and knelt at her head, lifting it into his lap. He stroked her hair from her eye, taking the clotting blood with it. 

She gazed up with both emerald eyes now, and smiled up at the lad, with his head backlit by the full moon behind him. "Trevir." She said quietly. Her hand reached up toward him, and she felt tears fall from his face onto hers.

"You can't die, Miss Hyandai." He said quietly, weeping freely now. "You just can't, you're supposed to live a long time."

Hyandai felt her life draining slowly, and her fingertips briefly touched Trevir's smooth cheek before her strength left her arm and it fell to her side.

---

Harlen ran down the stairs so fast that, in the darkness of the common room, he stumbled over one of the rocking chairs. Regaining his footing he slammed into the door to the bathing room and then the back door of the house.

As he pushed the back door open, something stopped its swing, something soft and yielding. Harlen looked down and saw the dead eyes of an elven woman there, but not Hyandai. Three arrows had pierced her. They were Trevir's arrows, Harlen recognized the colors that Trevir had chosen in the fletching.

He almost had a smile on his face when he spied Hyandai's broken body laying just a few paces from the other elven woman's. He ran to her and fell to his knees beside her. Harlen looked down and saw that her eyes were closed, and she did not breathe. 

Blood covered her bare chest and had run from small wounds over her whole body. Harlen heard the sound of weeping nearby and looked toward the altar, where Trevir was kneeling, his head hanging low. Harlen could actually see the tears as they fell from the tip of the lad's nose.

Harlen's own vision was blurring from the tears welling in his eyes. He looked down again, taking one of Hyandai's delicate hands into his own. It was still warm and soft, but it did not respond to his touch and when he let it loose, it simply dropped onto her stomach with a dull slap.

Trevir looked up at that moment, turning his head so fast that the tears at the tip of his nose flew away from him.

"Harlen!" He screamed. "I thought you were dead!" He stood and ran towards the huntsman. Harlen tried in vain to work up a brave smile for the lad's benefit, but was unable to muster more than a pained grimace.

Harlen stood too, letting the lad run into his arms and embrace him. He needed the comfort as much as the boy did, if not more.

The tears that Trevir shed soaked Harlen's arm. He realized he was naked, but now was not the time for such concerns. He brushed the wet, flowing tears from his upper arm and looked at his hand as he prepared to wipe it on his own leg. The fingers were black. It was not tears covering his arm, but blood, from Trevir.

Grabbing Trevir by his shoulders, Harlen pushed him away and held him at arm's length and looked into his young face.

A smile of surpassing eeriness crossed Trevir's face. And his eyes softened as he regarded Harlen. "You must work quickly, beloved." Trevir said, his voice oddly soprano. "Get the preist from your church. I cannot tarry long in Trevir's mind."

Harlen looked at Hyandai's body for a brief moment. "How? What?" He said, his mind reeling.

Trevir stepped forward again. "Go get the priest now, he is a healer, Trevir told me." Trevir said, though now Harlen began to recognize Hyandai's speech pattern and tone. 

"Now!" Trevir screamed, in his own voice. "Dammit, Harlen, she's going to die if you don't go now!"

Harlen ran, slamming through the house at breakneck speed, this time barely missing the rocking chair that he had stumbled over before. Only the barest presence of mind allowed him to grab his cloak off the peg inside the door and fling it about himself as he ran across the dewy front lawn.

The gravel of the road hurt his feet, but he flinched not at all to these little pains. The pain provided impetus, and focused his mind on the run. As he ran toward the gates that opened into the inner village, the guards started at his approach. However, when they saw it was Harlen, they simply watched him run past them, then looked at each other and shrugged.

He got to the priest's small home beside the church in mere minutes, hammering at the door. Father Tegmar opened the door and regarded Harlen.

"What is it, my son?" He asked and was answered by having the collar of his nightshirt grabbed and being dragged bodily from his doorway. He stumbled along with Harlen down the cobbled streets.

"Hyandai needs your special healing touch." Harlen said. "I know she's not of the One, but . . .."

"You need not explain yourself, Harlen." Tegmar said. "Hyandai is elvenborn and blessed for it, let us move hastily." He added, moving even faster than Harlen had been dragging him.

They arrived back at the house, and went to the rear courtyard. The pastor looked down at her corpse. "Harlen, my son, she is beyond my help." He said, tears welling in his own eyes.

"No, Father Tegmar, I am not." Trevir said, again in an imitation of Hyandai's voice. "Simply heal the mortal wound, and I can return to my body." Blood was running down the lad's face more freely now. There was a noticeable gauntness to Trevir's face and especially around his eyes.

The priest gasped, then said. "I had heard some elves could do such a thing." He said. "But never imagined it was true."

"Please, pastor." Hyandai said. "I have not much longer." 

Trevir's voice changed subtly. "She's hurting, pastor, hurry."

The priest knelt beside the body and clutched forth his octoform pendant; He gripped it in his hand and tightened his fingers about it. His other hand, the left one, hovered over Hyandai's naked chest. A pulse of purest white light came from that hand, and the pendant in his right hand flashed within his grip. Blood was dripping from the fingers as he clenched the pendant tighter. Another pulse flashed from the hand and pendant. And the wounds started to close, not slowly, like a reverse of the wound themselves, as Hyandai's healing breath, but they simply ceased being wounds, and were smooth, normal skin. He gritted his teeth and screamed out words that Harlen had never heard before, ancient words, Syrisian words, perhaps. His hand flashed white again, leaving little black dots in Harlen's vision afterwards. The body gasped in air, and the golden eyes flew open.

There was no mind behind them though, and they stared blankly into the sky. The body took another shuddering breath and Trevir collapsed atop it, his green eyes over her golden ones at a mere inch of distance.

To Harlen and the priest, they seemed to simply look at one another a moment, but suddenly, Hyandai's arms came up and grabbed Trevir around the chest and kissed him. She then pulled back and looked up at Harlen, a wide smile crossing her face. Then she fainted.

Harlen panicked a moment, then realized she simply slept. Lifting her from her place upon the ground, he carried her into the house. 

The priest saw the other elven corpse upon the ground. "What about this one?" He asked.

Harlen glanced back over his shoulder. "She's already getting what she deserves, in hell, I hope." He said, with a vehement voice. "There is another upstairs, a man, who is also enjoying the devil's tender ministrations."

"I must summon the Magistrate." The priest said. "You understand that?"

Harlen nodded. "I do." He said, his face cringing. Hyandai was partially awake now, and touched his face. The last time he had faced the Magistrate was after he had slain the other huntsman. The priest shuffled out the front door, wringing his hands with worry, and to soothe the one he had used to feed blood to his healing magics.

Trevir followed Harlen up the stairs, near fainting himself. "Is she okay?" He asked, distantly.

Harlen nodded as he laid her upon the guest bed, in the room across from his own bedroom. "She will be okay, now, Trevir." He said. "We owe you her life."

Trevir gave a weak smile. "I'm glad I could help." He was weaving noticeably, and his eyes seemed determined to shut.

"Lay down, Trevir." Harlen said. "I will deal with the Magistrate. If he wishes to talk to you and Hyandai, he can wait until you two are rested."

Trevir crawled onto the bed, curling up at the far edge from Hyandai and quickly dozed off. Hyandai, however, looked at Harlen with her golden eyes flashing. 

"It will be okay." Hyandai whispered.

Harlen nodded. "I know." He replied and kissed her gently, then rose and walked out, shutting the door behind himself.

Less than half an hour later, the Magistrate arrived. Obviously upset with having been rousted out of bed at the wee hours. He grunted and harumphed as Harlen told him the tale of the deeds done this night. The small man standing beside the Magistrate nodded in agreement with each statement Harlen made. 

It was the Magistrate's Truthteller. A form of magician who could tell lies from truth upon hearing them.

The Magistrate wrote down a lot of things in his journal, and looked about a bit. Guardsmen came in and collected the two bodies and their weaponry. One guard tried to take the Ehladrel, but Harlen stopped him and the Truthteller confirmed its ownership.

"What will be done with them?" Harlen asked the Magistrate.

The Magistrate regarded the corpses on the back of a wagon brought for the purpose. "They will be burned." He said. "It is the elven way, or so I hear."

The small group said their farewells, leaving Harlen with only the priest again. They watched the wagon bounce and jolt down the road toward town. "My son," Father Tegmar said, "you will need to watch Hyandai for some days."

"Why is that?" Harlen asked.

"She was dead, Harlen." The preacher said. "It is bound to affect her mind, in some way. I will pray to the One for guidance."

Harlen nodded. "Thank you father." He said, patting the man on the shoulder. "I will watch her closely." The first rays of sun were peering over the fuzzy eastern mountains, and the sky was lightening. Father Tegmar walked out of the gate and down the road, gravel crunching under his feet.

The house seemed somehow broken now. Harlen ambled through it, picking up the fallen rocking chair and setting it on its rockers. A massive sigh escaped him as he looked up the stairs. He was not ready yet to face the bedroom, with the blood and damage of the fight. He felt violated, like someone had stripped away his most secure of securities.

For a fleeting moment, he wondered if Hyandai was at fault. Quickly, that thought was banished and squelched mercilessly by his affection for her. She was doing the right thing here, not those other people. Looking out the back door, he regarded the numerous bloodstains by the waxing light of morning. 

The Ehladrel gleamed near Trevir's cottage, lying bare in the tall grass. Harlen walked up to it and slipped it back into the leather sheath. "You're the cause of this misery." He murmured as he lifted the strap and began to walk back toward the house.

Harlen mounted the stairs and walked up to the master bedroom. Peering in he saw the damage was not as bad as he had, at first, thought. The mattress and bed linen would have to be replaced, of course, and perhaps the rug beneath the bed. The damaged post of the bed would be repairable by a skilled carpenter, of which Morrovale boasted several.

He then sat the Ehladrel down upon a small table in the antechamber at the top of the stairs, just under the windows that lit the stairwell. He opened the door to the guest room and saw Hyandai still sleeping, with Trevir now curled up in the large reading chair at the foot of the bed. Harlen smiled and closed the door. He looked at the cursed weapon again.

"Will you not be satisfied until she is dead?" He asked it, glowering. "Or is it me that needs to die?"

The Ehladrel remained uncommunicative. Harlen dressed and walked downstairs. He fetched out his broadsword and a dagger for his other hip. He dragged the rocking chair up the stairs and sat in it, facing down the treads of the upper flight. Drawing the sword, he sat in the chair, with the silvery blade across him, from one arm to the other. Slowly, and in fits, he fell asleep.

---

Hyandai's voice awoke him. "Harlen?" She asked.

Harlen opened his eyes. The sun was now pouring through the stairtop window and his back was moist with sweat. Hyandai was on her knees before him, with her head in his lap. "I will tend your wounds this evening, betrothed." She said quietly. Touching near the large patch of red on his chest with her fingertips.

He stroked her hair, still tacky with blood and grass and dirt from the yard. With a crooked smile, he said. "You look like you're half dead."

Hyandai grinned up at him. "I shall take that as a compliment, considering I was far more than half dead."

She sprang to her feet; she had dressed in one of his mother's old dresses. "I am hungry, Harlen." She said. "Let us eat." She grabbed his hand and pulled insistently. He reluctantly rose from the creaking chair and followed her down the stairs. She bounced as she walked, he noted, like she had energy to burn.

Entering the kitchen, she peeled and devoured three oranges and two apples, and all of the bananas. Pulp and juice ran from her chin as she demolished one fruit after another.

"Harlen, may I beg some meat?" She said, wiping her chin with a cloth.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 15



He nodded and took some smoked meat from the cupboard, handing her a large chunk. Quickly, she was ripping through that, as well.

"Hungry?" Asked Harlen, smiling.

Hyandai interrupted her current project. "Dying takes it out of me, apparently." She said with a wry grin.

As the last of the meat disappeared down her gullet, Trevir dragged into the kitchen. "Did everything get sorted out?" He asked.

Harlen nodded. "Yes, it did." He said. "Trevir, I want to thank you for what you did last night."

Hyandai nodded assent. "I agree, you are my hero now." She said, jumping at him and hugging Trevir tightly. "Without you, I would now be dead, and the traitors would have the Ehladrel."

Trevir blinked. "I suppose I did do good." He said, humbly. "Does that mean no chores today?" He asked.

Harlen laughed uproariously at that. "A day?" He said. "You're free of chores for TWO days!"

There was a pause while Trevir digested this. "Neat." He finally said, and bolted for the bathing room door. "I'm going to wash, so no one come in." He slammed the heavy wooden door behind him.

Hyandai giggled at that. "Wonder where he is off to after his bath?" She asked.

Wincing as he shrugged, Harlen said. "I've no clue, perhaps he has a girlfriend."

A long moment passed with Hyandai adopting a considering expression. "He might, at that." She said quietly. "It would explain some of his odder behaviors."

---

Gramma came to Harlen's house about noon, with a basket of fresh-baked muffins. She clucked about the house as she moved through, commenting on the mess that the two 'ruffians' made upstairs.

"I cannot believe such horrid behavior of elves." She said, her voice rich with upset and indignance. "And you're sure you're well, Hyandai?" She asked the elven lady.

Hyandai smiled kindly. "Yes, Lady Maggie." She said, bowing slightly. "I am very well, and thank you for your concern."

Harlen had left shortly after Gramma had arrived, saying he was going to go retain a carpenter and glazier, as well as buy a new feather mattress. The glazier, a scrawny man named Timmerak, showed up even before Harlen had returned.

Gramma imperiously set him to work replacing the windows broken out the night before.

The carpenter arrived just after that, and was put to work finding and fixing damaged woodwork.

Finally, Harlen rode up, sitting upon a wagon. Hyandai bounded out of the house and hugged him fiercely when he dismounted the high perch on the bench. 

Three large, strong lads leaped out of the wagon and were ushered upstairs by Gramma. Soon, they were lugging out the huge mattress and the carpet from the bedroom. A new mattress was carried up and installed, including Gramma making it with fresh linen from the wardrobe.

Several buckets of water and strong lye soap were used to remove all the bloodstains from the floors and simply water to wash it out of the grasses in the rear courtyard.

By the time Gramma, the carpenter, the glazier, and the three laborers with their wagon left, the house had been totally put back the way it had been. Not a single trace of the conflict remained, except on the bedpost where the carpenter had been forced to use a slightly blonder piece of wood to fix the notch.

Harlen looked at his slightly reduced coffer of silver. "Adventuring is an expensive hobby." He commented.

Rubbing his shoulders, Hyandai commiserated. "I know, beloved." She said. "I shall repay you for damages, but I find myself short of coin this day."

With a massive grin, Harlen pulled her into his lap. "What is the going payment for wrecking one's home, making one fear for your life, and appropriation of one's apprentice?"

Hyandai tilted her head slightly. "Lifelong devotion?" She asked.

Harlen considered this for a long moment. "Throw in occasional tumbles in the bed, and I'll call it even."

Wriggling in his lap, Hyandai smiled and kissed him. "Agreed." She said, hugging him close to her and nibbling his neck. "Though, I think I should wait on Trevir to come of age." She added, her eyes glinting.

Playfully goosing her, Harlen stood up and walked her toward the bathing room. Trevir had left the house, from the sound of his heavy clomping through the common room. Harlen noted that the lad had started the fire beneath the bath and the water was already warm. "In you go, milady." He said, pointing to the tub.

Hyandai stripped of his mother's old dress and climbed into the steaming water gingerly. She began to bathe in earnest as Harlen stripped, too and slipped into the tub beside her. He helped her wash the blood from her hair and out of her scalp. He then went to cleaning is own wounds, the nasty long cuts the knife had given him.

Hyandai turned as he did this and began healing him, even as he winced at the lye soap against the open wounds. She moved her soft lips over his flesh and gently blew over the wounds, sealing them as she moved across the long, ugly cuts. After the initial pass to heal the wound, she trailed backward, to kiss and nuzzle the recently healed and very sensitive flesh. 

He gasped at the sensation of her electric kisses over his pink, new skin. Hyandai felt his manhood stiffen in the water and moved a hand down to it, stroking his thick shaft slowly.

"You will have to settle for lesser pleasures this night, beloved." Hyandai murmured into his chest.

Harlen nodded. "I understand. You're still recovering from the shock." He replied.

Hyandai giggled. "No." She said. "Leave it to say that for a few days, I am 'indisposed.'" She looked up at him with raised eyebrows.

It took the large man a few moments to finally achieve a gleam of realization in his eyes. "Oh." He said. Then kissed her gently. "I had forgotten about such necessities." He quietly said into her ear as he kissed it.

Hyandai's hand still gripped his cock firmly, though. "Do not think that you are free from duty, man of mine." She said, her eyes flashing and he saw that the bronze color had returned. 



The Solitary Arrow Ch. 16



Harlen smiled out his front bedroom window, watching the sunset. The fiery reds and oranges reflected from the high clouds reminding him of Hyandai’s hair. He glanced over his shoulder at her.

Hyandai lay sleeping soundly, still tired from her ordeal the night before. What does this night hold for them? Harlen wondered. Will it be a simple night of peace and quiet, a chance to rest after a harrowing journey through the mountains and evening of sheer terror and heartbreak? Or would it hold equally dark happenings?

A small group of half a dozen town watchmen patrolled past his home, casting wary eyes toward the little house back among the trees. Word spreads fast in Morrovale, and everyone, by now, knew of the incident the night previous. 

Several of Harlen’s friends, fellow huntsmen, had stopped by to offer their assistance in protecting his home. He thanked them heartily, but declared that it was his problem to deal with, and that he would take care of his issues. They hesitantly accepted his declaration and moved on, leaving word to summon them if need be.

For the first time ever, he had a lock on his doors, and the windows were now bolted shut on the ground floor. Harlen sighed at the ironic necessity of these precautions. He was fortifying his own home, and against elven folk.

He glanced over his shoulder again, this time not at the beautiful woman who graced his life and his bed, but at the elegantly deadly weapon beneath that bed, peering out where Hyandai could reach it if needed.

That weapon, the Ehladrel of her clan, was the cause of his woes, or so it came into his own mind. The sooner they were rid of it, the sooner Harlen could go about his simple, but pleasant life. As much as Harlen loved Hyandai, and longed for the sublime pleasures offered by her exotic, inhuman beauty and appetites, he wished for a sense of normalcy, as well.

The sun was now gone, and the last glimmerings of the clouds were lying upon the edge of the horizon, themselves. Night belonged to the elves, he knew, and to orcs. These recent events were beginning to make him not care for any of the night-eyed kin of man. He studied the shadows beneath the trees across the lane, and tried to plumb their inky depths.

Turning from the window, he moved to the stairs and down. Trevir was curled upon the couch, a thin blanket over him as he read in the book Harlen had borrowed from his friend. It was a book about elves, a study of sorts, penned long ago. The lad was not a fast reader, as the huntsman had taught him the art of reading and writing, and Harlen, himself, was not terribly adept at those arts.

“Master Harlen?” Trevir asked as the huntsman padded past.

Harlen paused, looking at the youth. “Yes, Trevir?” He responded.

“What does ‘aloof and enigmatic’ mean?” Trevir asked, paging back in the book a few pages and pointing to part of a passage there.

A weak smile crossed Harlen’s face. “It means they appear to hold themselves above baser things in the world and their intentions are not easy to understand.” He replied.

Trevir nodded. “Lady Hyandai doesn’t seem either of those things.” He said, looking at the book with a dubious eye.

A low chuckle came from Harlen’s chest. “No, she does not.” He said. “She seems neither aloof, nor enigmatic. Well, maybe a tiny bit enigmatic. But certainly not aloof.”

Trevir closed the book and sat up. He was still wearing his clothes, and Harlen also noted his bow and long knife were near to hand. He did not approve of weapons being kept about the home, but he could not say much, with the broadsword and large knives he was now wearing, belted to his waist.

“The book says that elves are mostly good.” Trevir said, looking at Harlen. “But those two, last night, would have killed us and Miss Hyandai just to get a magic weapon from her?”

Harlen nodded. “Most elves are very likely very good.” He said. “But, just like humans, they have bad people among them.”

Trevir said. “I would not be able to live with myself if I had slain a good person last night.”

“Nor I, and that’s why you are a good man.” Harlen responded. “Now, let us good men drink a beer and think on things.” He said, heading for the kitchen.

Trevir grinned and walked behind him. Harlen hauled on the rope that suspended the beer keg down the cold-pit. He drew them each a tall beer, then sat at the little kitchen table.

“Trevir, Hyandai and I will be leaving for her lands tomorrow or the next day.” Harlen said. “I wish for you to remain here. But, as before, if we do not return in a month, go to Tammer. He has instructions on how to tend to your needs in my name.”

Trevir nodded. “Of course, sir.” He said, though his eyes did not like this talk of not returning. “Is it really that dangerous?”

Harlen shrugged. “It could be, the people of Hyandai’s folk that are against her returning the weapon to her clan will be there, as well, I’m sure.” He said. “I don’t expect them to take its coming home lightly, nor without resistance. I only hope that we come across elves loyal to her clan before coming across the traitors.

“You should let me come.” Trevir said, smiling. “One more set of eyes, and another bow can’t hurt.”

“I wish I could.” Harlen responded. “But Hyandai insists that her people will only accept me accompanying her, since I am her betrothed.”

“Why do they dislike us so?” Trevir asked, his expression somewhat hurt.

Harlen thought a long moment. “I don’t think they dislike us, as a whole, at all. They are feel both superior and afraid at the same time.” Harlen explained. “Elves are terrified humanity will extinguish them. At the same time, they think that humanity has much maturing to do before being regarded as equals to the firstborn.”

“But, we don’t wish to kill them.” The lad said, a touch defensively.

Harlen laughed at that. “We don’t have to try, Trevir.” He said. “We can do great harm without any effort at all. We are simply too numerous and too acquisitive for them to resist us if they give us even a small opportunity.”

Harlen took a long pull on his beer. “But enough of such depressing thoughts.” He finally said. “Hyandai suspects that you might have been going out earlier to see a young lady friend. Is this so?”

Trevir’s face turned bright pink. “I suppose so, yes.” He said, smiling broadly. “It wasn’t anything, really. Master Hemdan, the baker, has given me leave to court his daughter, in their home, of course.”

Harlen, with a supreme effort, kept his face deadly serious. “And this daughter’s name?”

Trevir’s eyes changed subtly, and Harlen could see the change, and knew it’s meaning well. “Naomi.” Trevir finally said.

“A lovely name.” Harlen said. “A lovely girl?”

Trevir nodded enthusiastically. “One of the prettiest in Morrovale. Maybe almost as pretty as Miss Hyandai.”

Harlen’s eyes widened. “That pretty?” He said. “Then you are a keen-eyed huntsman, indeed.”

The girl was known to Harlen, despite his probing questions. Most people in Morrovale knew one another. She was a pretty young lass, and quite a good baker, herself, if her father was to be believed. However, she had struck Harlen as a bit pushy, and spoiled. If Trevir liked her, though, then it was a blessed thing.

As word of the attack had spread around town, also word of Trevir’s part in thwarting it and in saving Hyandai’s very soul from leaving her fallen body. His status in town had leaped that day, and he was, for a time, a young hero. The huntsman minded not in the least the accolades and praise heaped upon the youth. He knew it would be short-lived, but it was well deserved, as well. So long as his transgressions were minor, the lad would be hard-pressed to do wrong for a couple of weeks.

As Harlen sat the mug in the sink and Trevir, too finished off his beer. Harlen felt its effect taking hold of him, and he was becoming drowsy. 

“I must to bed, Trevir.” Harlen said. “You should, as well. Sleep in the guest room for tonight.”

Trevir nodded, and collected his bow and knife, and the thin blanket, and followed Harlen up the stairs. Harlen closed the door, and bolted it, again, a new feature in his home. After he stripped, Harlen slid into the bed beside the still sleeping form of Hyandai, quietly breathing and still lovely, even in her repose. As he reached out to touch her, she opened one eye partially. 

“Lover.” She said, simply and curled up against his side, with her head on his shoulder, a tiny smile forming on her soft lips.

---

As was common in these fall months, the next day dawned dark and dreary. Low clouds dragged their bellies, it seemed, along the tops of the trees. These split open and dumped rain upon Morrovale.

Another long and painfully idle day, Harlen thought, watching the rain fall. Hyandai had left the bed early and was, as Harlen watched her out the window, praying at the elven altar, wearing an oilskin cloak. She had been there for the largest part of an hour, so far as Harlen knew, perhaps longer.

---

Hyandai knelt before the altar, her mind instinctively expanding to feel the weather and space around her. A subtle and very palpable pleasure overcame her as the spirits touched her mind. The spirits did not directly speak to the person praying to them, and this was such a thing. They were reviewing her days with Harlen, alongside her.

They were trying to show her something, but what? That Harlen loved her? She knew that, already. That she loved Harlen? She knew that with even more certitude than the reverse. She would die for him, if it came to that, and she knew it. Her spirit-expanded mind could feel him watching her from the bedroom window. With most people, that would be an unwelcome intrusion, but Harlen was her betrothed. If anything, he should be here beside her. But he was a Oneian, and they had their own prayers and visions.

The thought struck her. What spirits would she find at the Temple of the One, in Morrovale? Perhaps she should try to pray at the altar there. 

Some of the images in her mind were repeating now. She could see no connection in them, though, and did not know what to make of them, or their connections to each other, or her current circumstance: Harlen glowering at the Ehladrel, Harlen fighting with the orcs in the battlefront in the hills. Harlen taking a deadly blow to his leg to give Hyandai a clear shot at Letharon. Harlen singing to her and rocking her to ease her pain from the orcs ravishing her.

Hyandai shook her head and rose. The spirits withdrew, and she thanked them curtly, and with respect, but in frustration. She walked back toward the house across the thick, lush grass of the rear courtyard. The rain had soaked her, for the most part, even through the oilskin, or around it, rather. She shed the cloak as she came into the bathing room and walked through to the common room.

Harlen was already in the kitchen when she came into that area, cooking eggs and bacon.

“Hungry?” He asked as she came through the open archway separating the kitchen from the common room. Harlen held out the pan, showing her the over-easy eggs and the sizzling bacon strips.

Hyandai’s stomach reported in her stead, a rather impressive belly rumble that caused her to blush slightly. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He said, pointing at the little table.

She found bread and jellies arrayed upon the table already and began to spread some of the redberry jelly upon the bread.

By the time she had finished a small hunk of bread with berries, Harlen had slid a plate with two of the eggs and a half dozen of the little thinly sliced strips of bacon. Elves rarely ate meat, in quantity, anyway, and almost never pork, except after a rather successful boar hunt. She liked the crispy strips of bacon, though, and enjoyed crunching them between big, hearty bites of the eggs.

Harlen watched her eat with joy. All of Hyandai’s grace and elegance seemed forgotten when she was taking in food. She looked more like a ten-year-old bolting their food prior to going out for playtime, rather than a knowledgeable and powerful being that was capable of destroying a man’s mind or healing wounds with her mere breath.

As the last bite of eggs disappeared with the aid of the two-tined fork that he had given her, Harlen spoke. “Would you like . . ..” He started, but an out thrust plate and an almost pitiable expression upon her face answered him. Chuckling he loaded it up again, and watched her begin demolishing a second helping of eggs and bacon, washing it down with water.

He finally made his own breakfast and sat opposite Hyandai. “The weather doesn’t recommend travel.” Harlen said.

Hyandai nodded between bites, gesticulating with her fork. “No.” She said. “We should wait for clear weather.” Then promptly stuffed another forkload of eggs into her mouth. “I mean, I am eager to be going, yes, but not so eager that I wish to travel in a morass to get there.” She said, after swallowing that mouthful.

He picked at his food carefully, playing with it more than eating it. Hyandai was nearly done with her second helping.

“I apologize, Harlen, but I am famished.” She said, noting his attention toward her rather wolfish table manners.

Harlen chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, we have plenty of food, and you’ve been sorely tried these last days.” He said. “I won’t fault you for being hungry.”

She smiled brilliantly. “I am gladdened you do not find my appetite disturbing.” Her expression darkened slightly. “My first potential suitor, a lad named Irenolan, found my eating so disturbing that he could not bear to watch me when I was truly hungry.”

Harlen smiled again. “It seems to me you eat like you intend to eat.” He said. “Like you don’t want to mess about mucking with the stuff.”

She nodded. “I suppose it came from my eating and working at the same time.” She said. “Another of my bad habits.”

Oddly enough, he was pleased to know that she had faults, no matter how small they might be.

A grin attempted to cross his face as she reached for the fruit bowl on the corner of the table and began using her nails to flay the skin off an orange. Harlen managed to stifle it, though. No point in embarrassing her about it. It certainly did not seem to affect her figure; he noted with an appraising eye, if anything, she had lost weight since he had met her three weeks prior.

As she turned the orange into a dozen little slices, ready for her consumption, Harlen picked up the plates and silverware and washed them, along with the cooking pan. He suddenly felt hands creeping around his waist and up over his chest.

“For some reason, watching you do that really heats my blood.” Hyandai said into his ear, with a puff of warm breath. 

He smiled as he turned about, and was startled to see her nude before him. He could have sworn he had only turned his back for a moment or two. She wrapped her arms around him again, pulling them tightly together. His manhood was already swelling with anticipation, and Hyandai smiled up at him as she felt it.

“By the Spirits’ grace, you humans are ready at a moment’s notice.” She said, smiling appreciatively. “I could not have chosen a better man to betroth myself to.”

Harlen put his arms around her, as well, and leaned down, giving her a long, deep kiss. Her breathing was just as strained and short as his, and he could feel her small hands moving over his rump as she pulled his bulging organ into her pelvis.

Harlen opened his eyes and looked over her head to the table. With a small effort, he lifted her from the floor with his enwrapping arms and moved her back, sitting her upon the table. She giggled at this, leaning back and reaching for a plum out of the fruit bowl.

“Do you remember our first day under the plum tree?” Hyandai asked, looking up with just her eyes and giving him her best naughty expression.

Harlen nodded smiling. “It will forever be in my mind.” He replied.

She held the plump fruit over her breasts and squeezed, it ruptured, spilling pulp and juice over her small, round tits, coating them with sticky pieces of plum.

Harlen grinned even more widely and lowered his head to her. Taking one breast into his mouth, he sucked gently at first, then more forcefully.

Hyandai moaned in response, tilting her head back and letting herself lie flat upon the table under him.

His tongue explored the round lobe, then moved over the cleavage between them, lapping up the sweet nectar from the plum. The taste was divine, the tangy sweetness of plum mixed with a heady dose of cinnamon spicing. Her fingers twined into his hair as his lips and tongue moved over her chest and onto the other breast, circling that pink, hard nipple several times before finally reaching it and sucking upon it while flicking his tongue over the button at the tip.

It took a good while for him to stop tasting plum upon her skin, and only then did he raise his upper body back up and look into her eyes, they were again bronze, rather than her normal golden.

She held up another plum, and once again, squeezed it, this time over her stomach. Harlen leaned back to watch her as her hand progressed downward, dripping great dollops of pulp and juice upon herself, down, and over the folds of her entrance. She lowered that hand and rubbed the fruit itself upon her exposed clit and even around the thickening lips that closed her slit.

Harlen’s eyes flashed eagerly as she pulled back that hand and began to lick the juice from her fingers. He dove down and began lapping at her stomach gently, kissing and slurping the messy bits of fruit from her skin. Her fingers once again crawled over his scalp, gently pulling his hair.

He moved inexorably downward over the smooth skin of her belly, then over the raised pubic mound. Finally, his tongue arrived at her flavored clitoris, and he sucked and lapped at it enthusiastically.

Hyandai gasped and her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling almost painfully. Her moans became more pronounced as he flicked his tongue over the clit between long slow movements over her entrance and over the lips that surrounded it. The taste of plum and cinnamon was driving him onward, and his throbbing erection was a constant reminder of his own excitement.

Before he tasted the last of the plum, Hyandai reached down with another piece of fruit, a kiwi, and Harlen backed off slightly, and watched as she squeezed the tart green juice over herself. His excitement grew as she did this, she then gripped the fruit and slowly, smashed the remainder of the kiwi against her swollen labia and clitoris, reducing the meat of the kiwi into a slimy mess.

Hyandai, once again, brought her hand up to her mouth and began cleaning it. She also touched Harlen’s cheek with her free hand, encouraging him.

He needed little encouragement, and happily began lapping at her clitoris and around it. The tart of the kiwi added another layer of delight to her taste, giving him a blissful mix of textures, flavors, and responses from her as he cleaned the fruit off of her.

Harlen lapped more enthusiastically and wrapped his fingers around her buttocks and drove the tips of his digits into the crack of her ass. One finger pushed against her tight anus, it found the fruit juice to be quite adequate lubrication and slid into her, causing her to inhale deeply as one knuckle after another slid up her backside.

He pushed forward with his intruding finger she gasped as he began working it in and out slowly as he continued his ministrations to her clit and opening. She groaned as he pushed his finger deeply while she was thrusting, attempting to push up into his mouth and back into the finger at the same time.

"Please take me." Hyandai said, touching his hair and pulling upward gently.

Rising from her he moved his lower body up to her, also pulling his finger slowly from her rump. The table was just the right height, and he pressed his swollen cock against her lips. Pushing gently, he slipped into her, spreading her open as he entered her while her hands came down and gripped his arms.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 16



She used her leverage against his braced arms to pull herself downward upon his organ, forcing it deeper. She looked up at him, and smiled almost angelically.

Harlen began thrusting into her, using more and more force with each few strokes and pulling more earnestly with his hands upon her hips. Soon, he was pounding his cock into her tight opening with her matching each push with a upward motion of her own hips.

Long moments of this passed, with Harlen and Hyandai both growing more frantic and louder. Finally, Hyandai screamed out, arching her back and tilting her head back as she lifted herself off the table and only touched at his pelvis, her rump, upon the table, and the back of her head.

She relaxed after a moment of this, gasping, and moving her hands over Harlen’s arms.

Harlen’s thrusts now became more insistent, then he grunted deep down in his chest, his hips locking as he pushed into her one last time. His cock twitched as he shot his semen into her. She tightened herself upon the base of his pole, encouraging him to spill his seed freely. “Give to me, beloved.” She said quietly, her eyes now glowing a bright green. He pulled back and sunk himself into her a few more times, loving the silky warmth that engulfed him and the tight contractions she was forcing around his shaft.

He pulled his spent pole from her, it slid forth slowly and she clamped down on it as he moved out. She let out a deep sigh as he finally pulled the still swollen head forth and her body fully relaxed.

Harlen’s face was a mask of pleasure for a moment, then it slowly changed to one of confusion. “Weren’t you 'indisposed'?” He asked, finally realizing what had been somewhat bothering him.

“It has passed.” Hyandai confirmed, and nodded.

He helped Hyandai sit up, and he smiled. “Then we have a few days before we need to worry about you conceiving.” He said.

Hyandai blinked a couple of times. “What?” She asked.

“Aren’t women more likely to become pregnant right before their, well, monthlies?” Harlen asked.

Hyandai looked at him, then giggled. “Hardly.” She said. “I do not know about human women’s cycle, but elves are most fertile immediately following their estrus.”

It was Harlen’s turn to blink. “As in . . ..” He prompted.

“Now.” Hyandai supplied helpfully.

She then broke into peals of giggling as he blinked a few more times. Slowly, a small grin moved his lips upward. 

“And you don’t mind the risk?” Harlen asked.

Hyandai sat up. “What risk?” She asked in response. “I have taken no risk.” She leaned up and kissed him. “I am more than ready to bear your child, if the Spirits deem it is time.”

“But doesn’t that sort of get in the way of the year and a day?” He asked, still rather startled.

She shook her head. “No.” She responded easily. “I am only insisting, now, on the year and a day, because it is the way it is done.” A broad smile graced her lovely face. “I would willingly wed you today, if it were permissible.”

A flush of gladness suffused Harlen’s features and she could see him puffing up with pleasure. This gladdened her greatly, that he desired her equally as a lifelong mate.

“I cannot wait for the year to end then.” Harlen said, kissing her neck. 

She rose and dressed, though she seemed to not wish to. It had been sheer luck that Trevir had not come down from the guest room upstairs. Harlen also pulled up his pants and fastened his belt.

They both looked guiltily at the doorway as they heard Trevir’s voice from upstairs. “I’m not coming unless you two rabbits are done!”

Harlen coughed quietly and looked sheepishly at Hyandai. She tilted her head slightly in consideration, then said. “We are quite finished, Trevir.” She looked over at Harlen and shrugged. “It is not like he did not know, hmm?” She asked.

Breaking down into a fit of laughter, Harlen agreed, nodding his head. “You’re right there.” He said, finally, wiping his eyes.

Trevir’s face peered around the corner. “I feel I should wash the whole kitchen before eating anything in here.” He said, mockingly, giving the room a looking over before moving to get something to eat. 

As he moved to the cupboard to explore for foodstuffs to his liking, Harlen surreptitiously handed Hyandai a hand towel. She looked at him a brief moment, in confusion, then caught the direction of his glance. Following this, she saw where fruit juice, pulp, and no little of her own fluids. Her eyes widened in panic, and she quickly cleaned it up with the hand towel, concealing the incriminating cloth behind her back.

They both then sidled from the kitchen and went into the common room as Trevir turned and looked suspiciously at the table.

---

Most of the day passed slowly. Hyandai sat a long while answering Trevir’s questions on elven society and customs from the book, confirming some recorded facts from the text, and dismissing others. Harlen listened from within the workshop, absorbing quite a lot of what was said on the various topics discussed.

The latter half of the day, the couple spent, once again packing up their traveling kits. Harlen had crafted a new leather scabbard for the Ehladrel. It sat upon her back, where she could draw it over her shoulder, rather than fumble under her own arm with both hands.

“How did you get the size so perfect?” Hyandai asked. Eyeing the snug fit of the weapon into the scabbard.

Harlen held up a wooden copy of the Ehladrel. He had even painted it dull gray with silvery highlights and wrapped the handle in an excellent facsimile of the leather wrapping about the various gripping points.

Hyandai giggled at that. “Not only can elves craft Ehladrim, hmm?” She asked.

With a nod, Harlen shoved the mock weapon into the old soft leather cover, and slung it beneath his backpack. “I’ll give it to some elven lad, to practice with.” He said.

A broad smile crossed Hyandai’s face. “It would make a wonderful gift for an aspiring blade dancer.” She said. “What did you make it of?”

“Lemon, a very hard wood.” He answered.

They finished out their kits and set them upon the workbench for quick retrieval in the morning, should the weather break.

---

Harlen and Hyandai entered The Pierced Boar just after sunset. The place was just now becoming crowded. Many huntsmen were in town tonight, as it was late fall, and most of them began to prepare for winter’s period of reduced hunting, as well as most other activities.

The year had been good to them, and most were quite ready for a long winter’s break from the routine of being alone for days on end. As they dined and drank together, there was a constant stream of other huntsmen sitting with them for a few moments, exchanging greetings, desiring to meet Harlen’s lovely companion, and to discuss matters important to huntsmen. Tammer would occasionally interject his own thoughts about the matters at hand, whether personal, romantic, or hunting.

“So, you and Hyandai leave on the morrow?” Tammer asked, having overheard them discussing their plans.

Harlen nodded, sipping his ale.

Hyandai smiled up at Tammer. “We will return as quickly as we can.” She said happily. “I think that I will be staying.”

A broad grin crossed Tammer’s wrinkled face. “That is glad news, Miss Hyandai.” He said. “This town could use with some beautiful women about.” This last earned him a glower from one of the barmaids that was within earshot. Tammer winced visibly at the young woman’s narrowed eyes.

“If you need an escort.” Tammer said. “I can scrape together some lads to accompany you to the border of the elven lands until you meet up with Hyandai’s folk.” His aged face showed great concern for their safety. He, naturally, was fully abreast of the happenings surrounding the couple and the Ehladrel.

Harlen shook his head. “We’re planning a rather stealthy approach until we come across people Hyandai knows will be friendly.” He explained.

Tammer clicked his tongue. “Stealthy approaches to the elven lands may not be a easy thing.” He said. “They’re rather masterful at it themselves.”

“I have something they don’t suspect.” Harlen said, grinning.

“Oh?” Tammer asked, raising one eyebrow, a trick with which he was the undisputed master.

Harlen put an arm around Hyandai’s shoulders. “Not everyone who tries to sneak into the elven lands has an elven princess to act as guide.”

Tammer chuckled at that. “Indeed they don’t.”

Hyandai coughed. “I am no princess, beloved.” She said quietly to Harlen. “I am a scribe.” Her face tight with discomfort.

“I’m sorry, angel.” Harlen said. “But I feel pride every time I think of you being beside me.”

She smiled at him, patiently. “I’m glad for that.” She responded. “But please do not heap titles upon me. I can just barely accept the ‘milady’s’ and the ‘Miss’’ people append to my name. I need not be a princess, I am happy being Harlen’s betrothed.” She kissed his cheek.

They finished their ales and sat a while longer, listening to the various yarns being spun by the other in town huntsmen about their near miss great scores. With each telling, Hyandai was sure, the wolf became larger, fiercer, and faster, too.

As they walked home, the rain having slackened to a slow drizzle. Hyandai was conspicuously aware of the weight of the Ehladrel upon her back. 

“Harlen, even if the weather is poor tomorrow, I wish to leave.” She said. “The Ehladrel is too much at risk here. And it puts good people at risk, as well.”

Putting his arm around her waist, Harlen nodded. “I understand.” He finally said, after several paces were behind them on the road.

The combination of good food and ale made both of them quite drowsy when they laid in the bed. Hyandai sighed as she looked up at the ceiling. “What would you be doing now, if not for me?” She asked.

Harlen gave that a lot of thought, sitting in the one chair the room accommodated. “I would likely be at the Boar for another two hours, then I would stumble home and fall into the bed.” He finally replied.

Giving him a long look, Hyandai asked. “With a bar wench under your arm?” She grinned slightly.

“Probably not.” Harlen said distantly. “Believe it, or no, I never went to bed with any women born in this village until Wendy.”

Hyandai clucked at that, a habit she seemed to have immediately after being around Tammer for any amount of time. “Why do you not like the women of Morrovale?” She asked. “They seem fine folk to me.”

Another long pause followed her question, and Harlen gave it serious thought as he removed his boots. “I think, maybe, I prefer to avoid discomfort for them and myself, should the relationship not work out as hoped.”

“You spend much time protecting yourself, or your heart, rather.” Hyandai said, eyeing him critically.

“I don’t with you.” He replied, standing and removing his trousers and tunic. 

He hung his sword belt upon the headboard post on ‘his’ side of the bed, the left side.

Her lips turned up ever so slightly at the corners. “Do you not?” She asked. “Have you not noticed that you have yet to ask me to stay with you? You seem to always wait and make me simply tell you my desires in it.”

His expression became considering. “I’ve never thought of that.” He said. “I thought I was simply not pressuring you into making choices you didn’t wish to make just yet.”

She shrugged. “It may be so, but it feels differently to me.”

A very long pause passed between them as Harlen thought back over the last few weeks. His mind ran through all the times they had discussed their future together, and all the reactions he had to the discussions. Was he shielding himself against rejection? He wondered.

Hyandai finally relented and sat up. She slid her legs off the bed and stood before him. “Kiss me, and think no more of it.” She said, putting her slender arms about his waist and ducking to slip under his arms. “I am yours now.” She added, pressing her lithe body to his.

With a small sense of relief, Harlen did as he was told.

They tumbled onto the bed as Hyandai pulled him off balance and let him land atop her, forcing the breath from her lungs. She moaned as his weight pressed her evenly over all her body.

She could feel his flaccid organ on her thigh and reached one hand down to stroke the side of the soft organ.

Harlen sighed contentedly as her lips moved over his neck and he felt her small, sharp teeth nibbling upon the cords of tendon that were tensed there as he pulled his head back.

His cock did not stay soft for long. The combination of the strong cinnamon scent coming from her fiery hair and the gentlest of touches from her fingertips were brining his organ to life quite quickly. 

She smiled up at him. “Indeed, I love your response to me.” She said, her fingers now touching his swelling rod. “Are all humans so eager to make love?” She asked as he kissed her neck.

Harlen gave a curt nod. “Pretty much, yes.” He said. “But, I’m better at it.”

She giggled a little at his eager response. “Good to know.” Hyandai said. “I would hate to think I was not getting the finest I could.”

“You are.” Harlen said, his eyes full of sincerity. “Trust me.”

She slipped up the bed from him as he lifted his weight off of her to move. “Lie down, love of mine.” She said.

Harlen laid back his organ pointing up toward the ceiling. Hyandai moved closer to it upon her hands and knees, like a cat stalking prey. She kissed his thigh as she closed upon his swollen member. That kiss sent a jolt up Harlen’s tensed spine, and a tingle straight to the root of his cock.

Her tiny tongue slid over the soft skin of his manhood, trailing a thin glistening layer behind it. His cock twitched under her tongue as she moved over the head and flicked it around the base of the mushroom-like head.

A loud groan escaped Harlen’s lips as she engulfed the head with her soft lips, then pushed downward. Soon, most of his manhood was pressing into her mouth and she pulled back. Finding a good depth where comfort for her and pleasure for him met, she began to move her head up and down upon the shaft quickly. Kneading his balls gently with one hand and marking her preferred depth into her throat with the other.

Under her intense stimulation: Her tongue slipping over the ridge under the head, her suction, and her fast and eager motions, Harlen did not take long to spend. His hips bucked upward, and Hyandai moaned as her mouth filled with his seed. A few moments later, she lifted her mouth from his organ, swallowing as she looked up.

A rather suppressed part of Harlen’s own sexuality jumped at the sight of her openly and boldly making a show of swallowing his semen. When a small dribble of it ran from the corner of her mouth, he caught it with his fingertip. Hyandai looked at the finger and the errant semen upon it. She quickly and with apparent relish sucked the finger into her mouth, licking the tip free of the spend upon it.

Her playfulness in the bedroom was becoming more and more intense and more easily arrived at.

“Are you letting your fey loose more often with me?” Harlen asked.

Hyandai nodded, smiling. “I just hope, when it completely comes forth upon a time, it does not upset you.” She said.

He chuckled. “I doubt that will happen.” Harlen said.

Hyandai kissed his neck. “I hope not.” She quietly murmured into his neck. “For it will do so, one day.”

“I thought you found the taste rather lacking?” Harlen inquired.

She nodded. “Normally, yes.” She said. “But my fey has differing tastes.” An odd look overcame Hyandai, a predatory look, nearly. Her eyes flashed deeper green, almost hunter green to her normal emerald. “I could drink a mug of it.” She said, her voice rather husky and almost a half octave deeper. Then, visibly, she gave her head a quick shake and her normal eye color returned. “As I say, my fey and I are not always in full agreement.” Hyandai finally said, grinning embarrassedly.

Harlen pondered the implications of Hyandai letting loose an almost completely differing personality upon him. “Does your fey love me?” He asked.

Hyandai blinked a moment at that. “You wish to ask her?” Hyandai replied. “I cannot know for certain, it does not work that way with me, it is almost as if it were another person.”

“I think I shall wait to discover that secret.” Harlen said.

Hyandai giggled. “I can safely say that she desires you.” She said, nuzzling into the crook of Harlen’s arm.

“Wouldn’t a lust fey desire pretty much everyone?” Harlen goaded.

Kissing his cheek, Hyandai said. “Yes.” And laid back down. “At least those who are sexually desirable.”

“What determines that?” He asked.

She kissed his shoulder, and again nuzzled into him, a smile playing on her lips. “A pulse.” She said, finally.

Harlen smiled down at his lovely partner, and, if her words be true, future wife. “I love you.” He said.

She blinked at him once. “And I love you, Harlen.” She replied. She laid beside him as the candle lighting the room burned down, then winked out. He never saw the tears that welled in her emerald eyes that were unobtrusively wiped away.

---

The next day was better for traveling than the previous, barely. The clouds still loomed large overhead, but only dispensed an intermittent drizzle upon the village. Harlen and Hyandai both set out under the glowering sky.

But first, they had to bid their farewell to Harlen’s grandmother.

Gramma fussed over the two of them setting out under such miserable conditions. “I don’t see why you can’t wait for better weather.” She said, glowering out the windows of her tiny kitchen at the intermittent light rain. 

“The people who attacked us two nights ago seek one thing, and that thing is not me, Maggie.” Hyandai explained. “The sooner the Ehladrel is removed from my life and care, the sooner I can live more normally again.”

Maggie nodded. “I understand that.” She said. “But this weather bodes ill for the trip from the very beginning.”

“We’re hoping that the people pursuing the Ehladrel will likewise be thwarted by the bad weather.” Harlen supplied.

“You’ll out clever yourself one day, Harlen.” Maggie said, chuckling. “I can tell you two headstrong kids are bent on this path. Do me a favor though.”

Hyandai smiled gently. “Anything, of course.” She said. 

Gramma brought a small box that she had been holding in her lap, and slid it onto the table. It was made of thin wood planks, obviously local manufacture, when Hyandai slid it before her; she realized it was not secured. She opened it.

Inside was the spirit mask that had decorated Maggie’s mantle for many years. Hyandai inhaled sharply, then looked at the wizened lady curiously.

“Take it home. Find out who it belonged to, or is, or whatever they mean. Give the spirit that made it or needed it what it sought.” Maggie said. “I can’t bear knowing it may represent someone’s unfinished business.”

Hyandai nodded. “I will do so.” She said, slipping the box into her pack. Her face was very solemn. She had forgotten totally about the mask. They did represent something akin to exactly what Maggie was thinking, but Hyandai had not even given it that deep a thought, she was shamed by the old woman’s sensitivity to her culture and briefly wondered if maybe the elderly human loved elves more than Hyandai did.

It would not be hard at this point. Of the last several days, it had been elves causing most of her woes and hurts. Humans had been nothing but helpful and kind to her. This thought made her long for the comfort of her father, and her brother and sister. Elves she could place her trust in.

Maggie forced them to carry another two days worth of foodstuffs by stuffing half a wheel of cheese in Harlen’s pack and two ceramic jars of preserved peaches into Hyandai’s. Harlen bent and kissed his aged grandmother on the cheek.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 16



“We will be back soon.” He said. “Keep an eye out for Trevir, please.”

“Why?” Gramma asked. “He planning on stealing more peaches from my trees?” Then she chuckled. “I will watch out for him, as I can, and you know old Tammer will, too.”

Harlen nodded, then walked outside the front door, watching the drizzle and waiting for Hyandai.

The young elf stood before the elderly human. “Milady Maggie,” Hyandai said, “I want to thank you for accepting me, and for helping make Harlen the man he is.”

Both of them by consensus glanced toward the night orb. Maggie walked to it and picked it up. She brought it over to Hyandai and held it out. Almost, Hyandai took it from her, then checked her hand’s motion.

“No.” Hyandai said. “After we return.” She withdrew her hand.

Gramma nodded and hugged Hyandai to her with more power than the elf would have thought she could muster. She returned the embrace, then straightened up and kissed Maggie’s cheek and followed her betrothed into the mist.

Maggie watched them leave, and went back to the mantle, replacing the night orb. She looked over her little collection of elven trinkets and artifacts; the flute, the chalice, and the night orb. She looked at the spot that the little trade box had rested. She had stuffed that into Harlen’s pack when he was not paying attention. She knew he would need it ere he returned. Something told her so.

The two traveled quietly, though Hyandai continued Harlen’s education in the language of the elves. He had already learned many nouns, common words for many things, and she giggled to hear him calling things out by name as they walked past them, even if he got the gender off, he would have been understood by any elf that listened.

She began to work on his verbs and even, somewhat, upon adjectives. It was a very few hours before he could tell her, in her own tongue, that she was very pretty, and that she had very appealing hammer. A girl cannot have everything overnight, she decided.

The day was miserable, but they found themselves surprisingly happy through the walk, even as the slow drizzle soaked their clothes and the cold chilled them to the point their hands were a bit numb.

They came, at last, to Markam’s Ford. This was where a village had once stood, almost directly upon the Windir border with the Western Realms. It used to be a trading community, and was part of the duchy. However, it had been razed years ago by another, neighboring realm and never rebuilt, as Morrovale was not far away and offered much greater protection from raiders.

Harlen peered from the ruins of the old church in the center of Markam’s Ford at the dense tree line south and west of the village ruins. Nothing could be seen to move.

The forest he was looking at was little like the woods he hunted daily. It was more densely treed, for one, and the trees were larger. The overall effect was a solid wall of vibrant green, marked here and there by leaves turning yellow, red, brown, and orange. He slid his spyglass out of his pack and looked toward the trees, still nothing to be seen moving.

Not that he expected to see anything. The elves did not announce their presence at the border. He was certain the lack of sighting of them meant exactly that they were there.

“They do patrol the border, don’t they?” Harlen asked Hyandai as she peered through the glass.

She nodded silently, and peered another moment. “There is one.” She said, at last, handing him the glass and aiming it at a patch of darkness among the trees. 

Harlen had to look a long moment, before he saw a solitary elf; wearing a cloak similar to the ones they wore beneath their oilskins. The elf was peering out of the woods, scanning the clear land that rose from the river to the trees. He had a bow in one hand and a sword, similar to Hyandai’s, upon his belt.

“Do you think he’s seen us?” Harlen asked her.

Hyandai shook her head. “No.” She replied, in case he had not seen her. “Had he, we would not be seeing him. He is being incautious, confident that he is simply performing a routine patrol.”

The elf moved away from the dark hole in the canopy and was once again gone.

The sky was growing quite dim, with the dense cloud cover and waning light as the sun set behind the obscuring clouds.

“It will behoove us to wait until nightfall.” Hyandai said. “Even darkvision is not as good as normal sight, especially at distance. Once we cross in, and get a few miles into the wood, we should be fairly safe from patrols, as the borders are the main areas that are actually patrolled.

They found a reasonable amount of shelter under the sagging roof of an old storage shed that had not been burned to the ground. Both of them laid out and rested, even napping by turns, so that they would have as much energy as possible after full dark.

Hyandai gave Harlen a sour smile. “The irony.” She said. “I have to sneak back into my own homelands, to return something I was sent to acquire.” She shook her head, the wet ringlets of her red hair dimmed to maroon in the failing light.

“Only to avoid those who betray your people.” Harlen said. “It is only that we do not know who they are, upon sight, that we cannot find elves we can trust easily. That’s why treason is such a heinous crime.”

Hyandai nodded and laid back upon the wall behind her. “I wish it were not so.” She said. “You deserve to be welcomed to my lands as a hero to the elves.”

“Even more so to you.” Harlen replied, leaning forward and kissing Hyandai’s ear.

---

Hyandai woke Harlen after he had a short nap. “It is time to move.” She said.

Harlen nodded and yawned. “Okay.” He agreed. Then rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”

She shrugged. “Nearing midnight, I should think.” She replied. “I forgot to pack Tammer’s water-clock.” She spoke of the five hundred pound mechanical monstrosity that some gnome had managed to talk Tammer into buying, and which filled about an eighth of the Pierced Boar’s common room.

A deep chuckle from Harlen rewarded her dry humor. “I’ll have to remember that.” He said.

They hoisted their gear and were pleasantly surprised to see clear skies outside the little shed. They folded their oilskin ponchos and looked about, toward the woods. It was now very cold out, as the blanket of clouds was now gone, and no longer held in the day’s warmth.

“It will be warmer once we reach the wood.” Hyandai assured Harlen as he blew into his hands to warm them.

Harlen gave her a curious look. “Magic?” He asked.

“No.” Hyandai said as they started walking toward the black tree line, barely visible in the moonless night. “But the trees hold in a bit of the warmth of day, as the clouds did.”

They walked on in silence, as they reached the river, both of them dreaded this part. Removing their clothes up to their waists, they waded into the water. It was icy cold, but mercifully not a long walk. Hyandai actually had to suppress a giggle upon seeing Harlen’s much shriveled manhood when they emerged. They both quickly dried off and put their clothes on. The woods now laid only a couple of hundred yards away.

Using small shrubs as cover they slipped quietly over the border into Windir. Harlen realized that he was now walking in elven lands. Two months ago, the thought would have thrilled and terrified him. Now it simply terrified him.

He expected at any moment a small squad of elven rangers to leap from behind trees and shrubs and confront them with bows drawn taut.

This did not happen. Even though Hyandai feared pretty much the same thing.

They did their best to make good time through the first miles of the wood, moving as quickly as they could and still maintain some semblance of quiet. It was, Harlen decided, noticeably warmer under the canopy of massive trees.

He did not recognize a good half of the trunks they passed as they moved over the soft ground and around the occasional bramble.

After an hour of this pace, they stopped to rest amid the massive roots of a tree that must have been several hundreds of feet tall. Hyandai was oddly at peace in her eyes and the set of her face.

“Good to be home?” Harlen whispered.

Hyandai nodded. “But also, it feels different.” She replied, in an equally quiet tone. “I think, in reality, your land and house are my home, now.”

Harlen could barely make any motion out, even with her sitting right near him. She had been guiding him through the wood, and now he knew, somewhat of what a blind man felt as he moved about.

“I think we should wait for daybreak here, then move on.” Hyandai said. “We’ve passed the outer pickets now, and should be fairly safe if we are cautious.”

“How far to your village?” Harlen asked.

Hyandai thought a second. “A day and a half.” She answered. “If we are not forced to detour.”

They dug out their blankets, and that was when Harlen found the little trade box from his grandmother’s collection of elven artifacts.

“Did you know of her putting this into my pack?” Harlen asked, holding out the Windy Islander box.

Hyandai shook her head. “I only knew of the soul mask she bade me bring to discover its purpose.” She replied, her eyes wide.

Harlen opened the little box, and lying within, nested on a bed of soft cloth were two rings of brightly shining silver. They were so shiny, in fact, that they were clearly visible in the darkness as two glimmering shapes.

“Spirits!” Hyandai gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

Harlen looked at her, but he did not need to ask why she was rather shocked to see them. They were obvious to him, even, for there were more than children’s games shared by elven and human folk. Such things as wedding rings.

Hyandai reached out a somewhat shaky hand and picked up the smaller ring. She looked closely at it. “It seems your Gramma rather liked to play little games of hide the apple.” She said. “When I examined her collection, I never thought to open the box.”

The ring was silver, but not only. It was an alloy of silver and mithril, and that mithril was the source of the luminescence. They were simple bands, but faceted with small angular cuts of the metal, causing them to glint and sparkle in any light, even starlight filtering through trees.

Harlen kissed her cheek. “I think Gramma was trying to rush things along.” He said. “Do not feel rushed.”

Hyandai looked at the ring for a long moment, her eyes filling with unseen tears. “I do not.” She said. “I feel like I’m being held back. I know we have not been with one another but for a few weeks, my love, but I know I am done looking for others to love, as well.” She put the ring back into the little box. “If not you, then no one.” She finally said, her voice sounding resolute.

Harlen had not idly spent the day learning random phrases of elven, he had a plan to his seeming randomness. “Amin melle lle, amin vanima Hyandai.” He said - ‘I love you, my beautiful Hyandai.’

She squeaked a small sound that Harlen had not heard her make before and then he felt his neck being crushed by both her arms as she embraced him fiercely and peppered his cheeks, lips and forehead with little kisses. “Amin melle lle, amin aglare Harlen.” She replied - ‘I love you, my glorious Harlen.’ “Ten’oio lle corm amin” - ‘Forever my heart is yours.’

They put the box away, but now, though the thoughts that it had brought out in their minds were kindled and seemed to be unstoppable.

---

The dawn found them entwined with one another under the blanket, still lying upon the oilskin poncho they had laid to keep the wet ground soaking the lower pad. Harlen blinked at the sudden light as the sun smote his eyes through a break in the canopy. Hyandai gave out a small sigh and then blinked her eyes open as well, smiling brightly.

“Good morning my love." Hyandai said, in elven.

Harlen grinned at her. “And to you, beloved of my blood pump.” He replied, also in elven.

Hyandai had to admit, his elven was growing better fast, at least he had not named her an implement for pounding nails. She giggled a little though. “That form of heart is for the actual organ in your chest, beloved.” She explained. “Corm means the heart that feels.” She walked up to him as he folded the blanket. “But I am glad your physical heart loves me, as well.” She finally said, kissing him.

The advantage of him learning more and more elven was obvious. Now, if they were somehow overheard talking to one another, the hearer would not automatically know it was a human speaking. They spoke on it, and decided any time they spoke in Westron, it would be at a whisper, but they would speak freely in elven.

They set out, again south and west, and had not traveled more than a couple of miles before they had to stop. Ahead was an encampment of elves, over a hundred of them. They skirted the encampment and maintained quiet while doing so. Hyandai was most discomfited while they were near to the small town of tents. After another mile, they felt freer to speak.

“Why did that encampment frighten you so?” Harlen asked.

Hyandai gave him a long, still somewhat fearful, look. “It is not our normal way to camp in large groups like that.” She replied, pausing a few seconds. “Save during war.”

His feet stopped moving for a long moment, then he followed her again. “Those were the enemy?” He asked.

“Yes, I fear they were.” Hyandai replied, her eyes still darting over her shoulder and into the woods. “I cannot think of another reason for the encampment this far from any settlement and in those numbers.” Her eyes once again grew panicked. “They mean to attack my village. Or yours.”

“A hundred or so against over two thousands?” Harlen said. “Are elven warriors really that good?”

Hyandai shook her head. “No.” She answered. “But they may mean to make a raid onto some important target then withdraw. But I am more certain that they mean to take Embalis, my home village.”

“Why would they do that?” Harlen asked, disbelieving.

“Embalis is the only elven town this close to your lands.” Hyandai said. “It would effectively cut off the loyalists from the humans in that direction. They would be enforcing isolationism with or without Royal consent.”

“There are other realms that can be reached in other areas, surely.” Harlen said.

“Yes, but Morrovale has long held a position of being considered elf friendly.” Hyandai said. “It would be a morale blow to the loyalists to have that potential ally cut off.” She shrugged. “Some of the other human communities along the border are apathetic to elven causes, or even somewhat hostile, and others change their stance as they change nobility. But, for some reason, Morrovale has always been friendly, without fail, for as long as there has been a Morrovale.”

Harlen blinked at that. This was new news to him. “Then why did you withdraw contact from us?”

“We had pressing matters with Ghant and the Windy Isles.” Hyandai said. “Ghant attacking us and the isles, and us helping the isles weather those attacks that fell upon them. When we are forced to war, it takes most of our resources to even stay on a level footing with humans who wage war upon us. The Windy Islanders helped much, but only insofar as they could.”

“It was no conscious effort on our part to stop parleying and trading with your people, Harlen.” She said. “There were simply not enough people, nor the luxury to travel northward. Only now have the Ghantians withdrawn and left us the leisure to move in other directions again. But that same war has led many of my folk to adopt a stricter isolationism policy, even a militant one.”

She glowered back toward the encampment. “The loyalists to the king believe that isolationism is not a path that will lead to our benefit.” She said. “Humans tend to destroy what they do not understand or that which they distrust. Isolating ourselves from them will lead to both.”

“Can your village defeat the enemy army?” Harlen asked.

Hyandai shrugged. “If that hundred was all of them, then yes.” She said. “But I feel safe assuming there are more out there, perhaps entire other camps, scattered around Embalis, like this, one day’s walk away. That’s far enough to avoid casual discovery, but near enough to coordinate an attack.”

“You certainly don’t sound like a scribe when you talk like that.” Harlen said, leaning over to kiss her neck.

She giggled. “I’ve transcribed many a text on strategy and tactics, and works that outline the various thoughts on elven and human interaction.” She explained. “I suppose some of it sticks to one’s mind.”

Harlen grinned. “I suspect my betrothed is smarter than I.” He said.

With a quick motion, Hyandai kissed him. “Not smarter, just a lot older.” She replied. “Remember, I have had almost forty years to learn things.”

Harlen had given that little thought, and now it struck him in the mind like a crossbow bolt. “Forty years.” He said quietly. “How can you see me as anything but a child?”

An odd look overcame Hyandai’s features. “Well, for one, children rarely throw me onto tables and take me so thoroughly that I nearly faint.” She said. “Another thing is that elves do not worry on ages much, as we are long lived enough that small distinctions do not matter so pointedly.”

“How many languages do you speak?” Harlen asked.

Hyandai thought a moment. “Twelve, and seven dialects off of those.” She replied, giving him a worried look. “Do not start thinking less of yourself, Harlen. That path leads to no good thing.”

Harlen turned his lopsided smile toward her. “Hmm?” He said. “You’re afraid I will think less of myself because you are even more wondrous every time I think of you? No, Hyandai, I think myself extremely fortunate to have appealed to you, but I do not think less of myself.”

The worry left her eyes and she hugged him. “Good.” She said. “For you are wondrous yourself.” Again, the rather lustful expression crossed her face, fleetingly. “You certainly do things to me no elf could.” It was gone just as quickly, replaced by her normal, pleased expression.

Harlen chuckled. “I will have to have a conversation with her one day.” He said, regarding Hyandai as she began picking her way through the trees.

The forest was as he thought it would be, but more so. The tree they were just resting amid the roots of stretched upward and into a nearly impenetrable canopy above. 

“Is this an Ornthalion?” Harlen asked, craning his neck to look upward at the twenty-foot diameter trunk as it shot upward.

Hyandai nodded. “It is an Ornthalion.” She said, speaking elven once again. “They form much of the basis of elven life.”

Harlen whistled at the immensity of the tree, then looked about them for others. He spied a couple, at a goodly distance. Most of the rest of the trees were more normal types, oaks, elms, even spruce and pines. The ground was covered in a thick layer of fallen leaves that made the step springy as one walked over it. In the distance, Harlen could hear birds calling and even the occasional animal screech of land bound creatures as well. Sunlight was very subdued here, with only a few spikes of the golden rays penetrating through the canopy and landing on the ground.

Patiently watching him, Hyandai smiled to see his wide eyes as he took in her homeland. It was important to her for him to accept this place, for it was part of her. He seemed fascinated, and that pleased her greatly.

“It seems like my wood, but larger and thicker.” Harlen finally said.

Hyandai nodded. “But there are other differences, which you will probably see some of before we arrive in Embalis.” She replied.

Taking her hand, Harlen began to walk alongside Hyandai through the woods. They conversed some, and as much in elven as Harlen’s limited knowledge allowed. Hyandai was proud of his progress so far. Either Harlen was an excellent linguist, or he wished to learn elven very badly.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 17



Hyandai guided Harlen through the woods, leading him around features she knew to be somewhat treacherous. There was little in the Windir forest that would offer direct threat to a fully-grown human man, or even an elven woman. But that did not mean there was no reason for caution. There were places of spiritual power and locations where other fey creatures lived. Mischievous beings that would trick and betray Harlen, and some, even, Hyandai.

Deep under the canopy provided by the massive ornthalion trees, they moved quietly, disturbing the land as little as may be. Hyandai cautioned against leaving more mark of their passage than necessary, as there would be rangers about, forest wise elven men who, like Harlen did in Morrovale, patrolled these woods, seeking game and watching out for interlopers.

Most rangers were loyal to the crown and the people of the Windir, but there may be some who were subverted. A ranger, in his own wood, was not something to be trifled with, she warned.

Harlen was amazed at how close many of the local animals would allow them to come before they fled from the couple. They would watch warily, it is true, up until a person would walk near enough to touch them. Only then would the animals unhurriedly move away, stepping just far enough to be out of easy reach. Hyandai assured him that they would eat from one's hand, if one had food to offer that appealed to them.

"Why do they not fear us?" Harlen asked quietly as they stood not four paces from a doe and her foal.

Hyandai looked at him. "We hunt very little, beloved." She said. "They have not evolved to fear us. In your lands, they have many times been hunted to the verge of being wiped out. Only the ones who feared man instinctively survived. Today, all that live are descendants of those that lived, and were afraid."

Harlen considered this for a while, and understood her point, but people had to hunt, he figured. "They would not live long outside Windir, would they?" He asked.

She shook her head. "They do not know to avoid man." She said.

They walked on a ways, breaking for a quick lunch after several hours of travel. It was hard for Harlen to gauge their progress, as he knew none of the landmarks, and it was hard to judge speed in this world of oversized trees and little direct sun. It was beautiful, however, in a majestic and mysterious way. Almost like the cathedrals to the One he had heard tales of in the great cities. This was a cathedral to the One, he realized, simply a temple the One had allowed to construct itself, with the help of the firstborn. 

"We are nearly halfway there, we will be able to arrive come the morning." Hyandai assured him, using her own memory of landmarks in the woods around them. Harlen noted her newfound confidence of stride. They were in her lands now, and she knew them as Harlen had known Morrovale.

She graced him with a broad smile. "There is a place we can camp tonight, in relative safety." She said. "It is my turn to provide the shelter. I often went there as a child, and it always seemed safe and I was never discovered by others."

Harlen nodded. "Sounds like a good spot, this close to Embalis, there may be patrols from the town itself to contend with." He said. "Especially if they suspect trouble is brooding."

A look of worry and deep thought crossed Hyandai's face as they continued walking. "I fear for my people, Harlen." She said. "The Ehladrel will not help that much in a fight of armies."

He commiserated with her, stroking her long auburn hair. "I fear for them, as well, angel." He said softly.

The walk continued in silence, the two of them lost in their individual thoughts.

Hyandai's mind was consumed with the worry, and fear that her people would be slaughtered by the traitors and her whole culture doomed to being extinguished.

Harlen, as is humanity's wont, was trying to think of ways to avoid those fates. This, more than fecundity or viciousness was the human advantage in situations of competition, be it a race, a game of poker, or a war.

"The Windy Islanders are occupied?" He asked, breaking the hours of silence.

She had to think for a few heartbeats as she digested his question. "Yes." She finally said. "They are still trying to mop up rogue Ghantian regiments and individuals who continue to harass their towns and outlying farmsteads. Besides, we fear bringing men into the deep wood to do battle, those who are untrained in such environs. They would be cut down like wheat."

Harlen nodded, still following Hyandai's back through the rolling terrain of the woodland's floor. 

Harlen suddenly realized he was hearing water splashing. A waterfall, he thought. As he noted they were entering a clearing. It was like a larger-scale version of the grotto in Morrovale. Or, perhaps, the grotto was a miniature replica of this spot. It was wide and deep, and the trees held back from encroaching upon the shoreline of the little lake. On one side, a large waterfall fell over a sharp formation of rocks, tumbling down and spreading mist at the base of the column of flowing water. The water was unbelievably clear, and the scent of the entire glade was of orchids. A rainbow formed in the mist, spreading wide over the glade and fading toward the edges with the mist.

As Harlen blinked at the sheer beauty of the scene and the assault of lovely scent upon his nose, Hyandai grabbed his shoulder and pushed him down. They were now crouching behind a thick bush, with white flowers covering its surface. Peering over the edge of the bush, Hyandai smiled like a child, pointing with her thumb, then looking back over.

Harlen joined her in peering over the edge of the bush. Near the waterfall, just emerging from it, apparently, was a woman. She looked human, tall and lean, with long, powerful legs and strong-looking arms. She was fully nude, her lithe body gleaming with refracting beads of water. She moved with the grace of a skilled dancer, or warrior, or both. The only thing that made him know she was not a human was her hair. It was thick and wavy; a massive mane of hair, and it was green. However, it was not all green, parts of it were turning brown and red, and parts yellow and orange.

She walked along the bank of the little lake for some feet before turning and walking toward the trees, then disappearing into the foliage.

"What was that?" Harlen asked, his voice a whisper.

Hyandai giggled. "A nymph." She said. "Another fey of the wood."

"Are all fey so beautiful as you and she?" Harlen asked, peering back over, in case the nymph returned.

Hyandai stood up. "I'm afraid not." She said. "As a matter of fact, some are quite repulsive."

A low chuckle emitted from Harlen's chest. "I see." He said.

Onward they traveled, time seemed to have little meaning as they went on. The sun changed position, but without any real indicator of its present location and where it was an hour ago, it did not register as important.

"I see now why people say time does not pass in elven lands." Harlen commented idly, looking up at the few tiny pinpricks of sunlight piercing the canopy overhead. "If it does, it does so in hiding."

Hyandai took his hand. "Fret not, lover, we are in lands now that I know well." She said. "Or well enough."

The light was once again fading when Hyandai walked them up to an Ornathalion tree. She moved about the base, seeking something, until she found it. There was a soft, wooden click and a door opened into the tree.

She grinned back at his rather startled expression. "Come." She said, ducking into the doorway and entering the tree's trunk.

Harlen had to duck but could stand upright inside. It was a small chamber, only two paces wide and one deep. A narrow tunnel led from the left wall into the tree, like huge termites had bored into it.

Hyandai carefully closed the door and said. "Use your calyondo, beloved."

Digging for a moment, Harlen produced the calyondo and held it before him. She crawled into the tunnel and he followed. He could not at all complain of the view for this portion of their trek, he thought while looking ahead. Hyandai seemed to now never wear a loincloth, and the view was quite, frankly, stimulating, if he had to say so.

After what seemed like a long while of steady crawling, and moving upward, they emerged onto a platform that was very high up in the trees. Harlen looked over the edge, stretching muscles unused to such crawling. He saw nothing but darkening woods and mist. 

"How high are we?" He asked. 

Hyandai peered over the side. "About two hundred paces." She said. "As near as I could ever tell, I never measured it."

"What is it?" He asked, looking around the platform, which seemed to go all the way around the tree at this level.

She shrugged. "I know not, perhaps a disused watch post." She said. "But I have never found others here. We should be safe here for the night."

Harlen pocketed the light orb and sat upon the wooden deck of the platform. "Tell me about your father." Harlen asked, maintaining his random thought patterns.

Hyandai sat opposite him, cross-legged and leaned her elbows onto her knees and her chin onto her hands.

"He is a strong elf." She said. "And a good man. He is a smith, as I've told you, and makes many a useful items for the clan and the village." Her eyes were growing misty with time's passage as she spoke. "He was the head of the clan for a short while, before my mother's death. You see, we elves are matrilineal, though we usually have male rulers."

"When an elven man marries an elven woman, he takes on her position. As my mother was the senior woman in the clan, she was the matriarch, when my father married her, he became the patriarch." She explained further. "He headed the clan. But, when the woman that ties a man to his position dies, he loses it."

Harlen nodded. "What is he like?" He probed. He had never known his mother or father, so this was very interesting to him.

"As I said, strong and good." She repeated. "But also stern and stubborn, at turns." Her eyes were now glittering. "I remember him trying to make me quit carrying my mother's hyandai all the time and me being just as stubborn and headstrong as he was."

She was smiling a wide toothy grin. "I have told you, I am considered plain by elven folk, if for my golden eyes alone." She said. "One boy who had been sent by his parents to visit me said something about it, in a most discourteous tone. I thought my father would flatten him like a sheet of steel. He grabbed the rascal by his collar and bodily hauled him out the door, and to the edge of the platform, and dangled him over it, saying: 'More civility next time you have the honor of speaking to my daughter, else you may become my first experiment in the effects of gravity upon a piece of dung'." She paused a long moment. "He was my hero, and still is, I suppose, though now I have another, as well."

She moved her slender hand onto Harlen's her tiny fingers like a child's next to his thick digits. "You reminded me of him when we first met, from your smell of hard work." She said. "And while certain of our activities have disabused me of that assessment, others have reinforced it."

"Will he like me?" Harlen asked. "Or, more importantly, approve of me, and you." His eyes held some measure of concern for this matter.

Hyandai shrugged. "I know not, these days." She said. "It is a dark time, Harlen, you must bear that in mind. We face foes from the south, powerful ones. And now, from within as well. We elves do not face war as humans do, the very act of making it, even without a single death, is anathema to us. It is not our way."

Harlen turned his hand over under hers and clasped her fingers, gently, but firmly. "It makes you beautiful." He said.

"It makes us weak." Hyandai said, nearly spitting the words. Her expression had changed to one of disdain. "We avoid fights, we appease, and we parley. What we do not do, however, is win. In each transaction we loose something, a part of ourselves. Soon, we will have nothing to give, except our lives. Which, by then, will be meaningless."

"You believe pacifism won't work?" Harlen asked.

She smiled bitterly. "Why else was I, untrained in such things, seeking the Ehladrel?" She murmured. "Pacifism won't work, we have tried it for over two thousand years. Oh, certainly, some humans and others will abide by a non-aggression agreement, but just as often, as soon as it is convenient, or inconvenient, they push again, or openly attack."

Harlen nodded to that, but said nothing, simply stroked her shoulder and hair. 

Hyandai smiled at him. "I doubt you wish to speak of my people's politics." She said. "It is something that will either happen or no without you or I taking part in it."

"Your concerns are my concerns." Harlen said gently. "If it bothers you, you should talk about it, though I am not very conversant in the matter."

"Another time, then." Hyandai replied. "I have other matters of import on my mind."

She reached up and stroked his stubbly cheek and kissed him. "We are in my lands now, Harlen." She said, once again speaking elven. "Let us enjoy one another this night as folk of the wood." 

He only understood about two-thirds of what she said, but it was enough to deduce the rest.

Returning her kiss, he began to disrobe her, untying the knots that held her tunic covering her shoulders and breasts. It came free and he sat it upon the platform before bringing his hand back to palm the soft curve of her breast.

The nipple hardened almost instantly and she sighed as he squeezed the soft flesh. She ended the kiss and started kissing his neck and ear while he continued kneading first one then the other mound.

Hyandai turned to face him again, but this time opening her legs to straddle his as she pressed to him, her legs folded at the knee beneath her and he propped against the tree's massive trunk. He leaned forward from the trunk while she lifted his tunic off his upper body and ran her cool hands over his chest and arms, enjoying the feel of muscles under her fingertips while biting and kissing his neck and shoulders. Her hair tickled his chin as she moved from one side to the other, and then back.

His own hands did not remain idle, though, and he had untied her skirt and laid it atop her short top. Now she was nude, save her soft boots, which she soon kicked off her feet.

Finally, she scooted back and came up onto her feet in a low squat, unclasping his belt and tugging at his pants while he kicked his own boots off. Once she had removed his trousers, she squatted back down up against him, feeling his swollen cock against her pubic mound and stomach.

She looked down at it, squeezed between their stomachs, and one of her hands followed her gaze.

As she stood up, Harlen followed, not that he had much choice, she had his manhood firmly in her grasp. She kissed and tugged him as she backed to the railing that edged the platform around. She moved to it and felt the smoothly sanded wood on her backside.

Harlen was breathing short now, and thought he knew her intent. He touched her smooth-skinned shoulders and turned her about gently. 

Hyandai grasped the railing with both hands, her knuckles white even in the dim moonlight that filtered through the trees. Her chest lowered to the rail as well, presenting herself to him with her legs apart.

With a slight adjustment of his position, Harlen stood behind her and pushed his organ down toward her entrance, she looked back over her shoulder with a wide smile, her own breathing was also coming in short gasps.

Pushing himself smoothly into her, he enjoyed the feeling her soft insides accommodating him again, smooth and slick, and warm and welcoming. 

Hyandai groaned as he entered her, and he felt the muscles contract slightly in protest to the intrusion. Or was it an embrace of welcome?

Soon, though she was moaning with pleasure as her body learned what was expected of it. Would it always be thus? Harlen wondered. Though he did not really seek an answer. They both were enjoying it, so why bother with such a small detail?

Her moans became slowly more insistent and she was pushing back against him as he went into her.

Harlen was also feeling the sensation of need, of a desire to be with her more thoroughly. He took hold of the curves of her hips and lifted, straightening his legs. Her feet now dangled in the air by several inches, so different were their heights.

He began to enter her more enthusiastically, slamming himself against her backside. Her whole body quivered with each impact and she groaned in time with them. A few moments of this rough and forceful action and she was groaning with a agonizing climax, only moments before Harlen's. She was facing into the darkened woods and she cried out her joy while he took his turn to groan as he spent into her, sending his seed deep into her body.

They stayed like that a long moment, he holding her up by her waist and hips, while she laid her body upon the wooden railing. His organ throbbed as she squeezed it, milking every drop of his seed into herself.

Harlen was, frankly, amazed that he had managed to keep his knees straight through that and had not fallen, as they were now quite shaky under him. He lowered Hyandai to the deck and she moved off his impaling cock's shaft, turning about again.

"Will we make love every day?" She asked, smiling at him, pulling herself to him with her arms and leaning onto his chest.

"I don't know for certain." Harlen said. "I don't think I would mind, though."

Hyandai yawned mightily, stretching her long arms and legs while arching her back sharply. "I fear I am too tired for a second attempt tonight, though, lover, unless you are very eager for one?" She asked, her expression quizzical.

Harlen shook his head. "Only if you truly want." He replied. "We have walked hard and far today and should rest for the morrow."

Folding herself into his arms, Hyandai sighed. "We should rest, then, beloved, the morrow shall likely prove itself trying." She said.

They spread out their blankets and then laid within the soft folds, Harlen pressing to her back and enwrapping her protectively with his powerful arms. They laid for a while, lost in their own thoughts, then, eventually, slept.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Awaken, human!" A voice ordered. 

It had the clipped cadence that Hyandai had when she had first met Harlen. Oddly, he thought about that for a moment, noticing for the first time that her accent with Westron had become much better than when they had met. strange thing to think about when someone has told you to wake up, he thought. The voice commanding his wakefulness, however, was masculine, and lacked any form of kindness.

He attempted to move only slowly, turning over from Hyandai's back and leaving both his arms quite visible. Instinctively, he knew that moving suddenly would get him in very severe trouble.

Harlen opened one eye slowly, seeing four young elven males. They stood some paces from the slumbering couple; bows ready, but not aimed, much to his relief.

Hyandai gasped and clutched the blanket to her chest as she sat up, facing them. "A bit of modesty." She bit out in elven, glaring at the four elves in what appeared to be uniforms. 

She had been mostly covered, and sheltered by Harlen's bulk from their eyes where they had approached from the hidden crawlway. They had not seen her until she sat up.

"Lady Hyandai!" The one who had spoken said, his voice higher than even its normal soprano with shock and surprise. 

At that utterance, the other three registered their surprise with widened eyes. In unison, they bowed low, touching their chest to an extended knee. The arrows were back in their quivers a second later, and the four were turning about to face the opposite direction, away from the couple.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 17



"I beg forgiveness for disturbing your privacy, lady." The apparent leader said. "Had we known it was you and a companion here, we would have called from below."

Harlen understood only a tithe of these words, they were very rapidly spoken and many were sounds he had not heard before. He turned to Hyandai with questioning eyes.

Hyandai dressed rapidly behind the guards, and Harlen joined her in clothing himself at a quick, worried glance from her.

"You were doing your job, Evendann." Hyandai said. "Forgiveness is given if you think it needed." She turned to Harlen. "I am sorry beloved, but I wanted them to find us, that way they were less likely to take action before thought. Especially with us asleep and allowing them to have the element of surprise, they could well afford to be circumspect."

His eyes were somewhat confused, and a bit worried, as well. "Lady?" Harlen asked. "I am used to the people of my land calling you that. But wouldn't that imply status among your people beyond the uniqueness that my people responded to?"

Hyandai's eyes cast downward. "I suppose it would." She said. "My father was the Lord of Embalis, before my mother died and that station died with her."

It took a long moment for Harlen to absorb this new information. He looked at Hyandai, and at the suddenly deferential soldiers, then back at her.

"You're noble born?" He asked.

Hyandai nodded. "As much as elves have nobility, yes." She said, looking very embarrassed. "Officially, I no longer have a title, save 'lady,' and that only residual of my mother's position. It is more honorific than title of position, I assure you."

They had finished dressing when Hyandai said. "Evendann, please speak in Westron while we are in Master Harlen's presence. I am clad, you may turn about."

The soldiers rotated to face them again, eyeing Harlen rather suspiciously, but not hostilely, like they had when they had first awakened him.

"Yes, Lady Hyandai." Evendann said, giving with one of those curt nodding bows that Harlen could not master.

"Harlen, this is Evendann, an officer of the Guard of Embalis." Hyandai said, indicating the leading elf. "One of our finest warriors, I might add."

The leader granted Harlen one of the little head-bows. "I am pleased to meet you, Master Harlen." He said. "I apologize for my curtness, I was unaware you were here at the will of the lady."

Harlen gave a short bow in return. "No apology needed." Harlen said. "You did what you would normally when finding a human interloping unbidden in your lands."

"However, Lady Hyandai, I must correct one of your statements." Evendann said. "I am no longer a officer of the Guard. I command the Guard."

Hyandai blinked a few times. "Explain please." She said.

Harlen could hear a bit of authority in her voice. She was used to giving minor commands, and seemed reasonably to expect them to be followed.

"Captain Cendiolor defected to the Isolationists two weeks ago, lady." He said. "He took almost half the Guard with him."

A moment passed as Hyandai allowed this new information sink in. "Almost half?" She asked, her eyes full of worry.

Evendann nodded. "I am afraid so, lady." He said. "We fear their attack will fall upon us very soon."

Hyandai packed her blanket and lifted her pack with the Ehladrel onto her back, then she donned the mottled green cloak that Harlen had made her. "Then we have need to move to Embalis hastily, no?" She asked.

"Indeed, we do, Lady Hyandai." He said. "The Isolationists may be patrolling these places even this close to Embalis, and some have even ventured nearly within bowshot of the outbuildings.

All of them retraced the long, winding tunnel down through the tree back to the little room in the base and onto the soft loam of the forest floor. With Harlen and Hyandai in the middle, the four elves took up positions two before them and two behind, spreading to a distance of about five paces, making a rude square. Arrayed as that, they began making their way west and south.

Harlen looked at Hyandai. "We need to speak when we can." He said.

Returning his look, Hyandai said. "I know."

They moved along at a brisk pace, the guards setting a fairly rapid gait. All of them wore the expression of the very concerned, and watched the surrounding wood with cautious eyes. Their bows were again in their hands and arrows were knocked. Harlen began to draw an arrow, himself, when Hyandai stayed his hand, her head shaking negatively.

"No, betrothed." She said. "You must not wield arms for now." Her eyes were apologizing pitiably as she spoke. "Humans in the wood may not wield them near elves."

Harlen nodded. "I understand." He said.

The pace was faster than Harlen first imagined, and they soon came over a low rise in the loamy ground and around a particularly large ornthalion; before them lay Embalis. The elves did not break stride and they continued into the small valley.

The village consisted of a few low, open-structured buildings built around the bases of ornthalion trees larger than any Harlen had seen yet. As he looked, he could see platforms and catwalks among the tree branches, far above. The woodwork was incredibly detailed, and it was obvious that skilled artisans had worked their craft over most every inch of the structures. They looked almost as much grown as built, seeming to merge directly into the living wood of the tree. He would have many questions for Hyandai about the architecture alone. Geometric shapes, and natural forms were patterned everywhere, leaves, zig-zags, interlocking woven patterns reminescent of Coghlandish knotwork, and even some herringbone patterns, beloved of his own people. Most of the wood was dark, nearly black, which Harlen took to be ornthal wood.

Patches of bright flowers and other colorful plants, including ground-covering shrubs with blue and red leaves covered the idle corners of the valley, and there was a brook bisecting the town, and crossed by several small, elegantly crafted footbridges.

The sunlight penetrated here more brightly than in the deep wood. There were fewer lesser trees about, the ornthalions were the only trees that seemed to not be cultivated for a specific purpose within the village. The sudden brightness was rather taxing to Harlen's dimness-adjusted eyes. 

There seemed to be almost no straight lines anywhere, either in the overall design of neither the buildings nor the decoration upon them. Colors were bright, as well, and extravagant.

Elven folk moved about the village, a few dozen of them that Harlen could see. As the six came out of the wood and descended the valley's slope and walked onto a faint path of fine gravel. The folk of the village began to notice them, and several stopped what they were doing to watch the group emerging from the wilds.

"It is now your turn to be the one gaped at, Harlen." Hyandai said with a bit of a smile. "This far into Windir, few humans are seen, if any. And those are Windy Islanders, when they are seen at all."

The expressions on the elven faces about him ranged from distant curiosity to near hostility. Only a discouraging few of the people were openly friendly, smiling at the sight of a man in their village after all those long years.

With an effort, Harlen kept his head high and his eyes forward. He would not bow his head and humble his race. Somehow, he knew that would be a mistake.

The look on Hyandai's face was one of pride as she watched him stand before the intense scrutiny coming from all quarters as they marched toward the center of the village. Harlen towered over everyone around him, and his massive shoulders simply amplified that effect.

Harlen's first assessment was somewhat off, however, as the village was larger than he had thought, the mists had hidden fully half of it. Now, neared the village's center, he saw larger, and more ornately decorated structures about. They seemed to be moving directly toward an especially large one.

"The Ruling Hall." Hyandai whispered into his ear. "Where the Lord and Lady of Embalis will be awaiting. He is Ircandann, and she Melewen. They are good and just persons, Harlen, and wise."

Harlen nodded, his eyes watching all about them, observing the dozens of elves gathering as they approached the large building with all the columns around its periphery. It seemed to have no walls, simply a large roof. As they neared, he saw large curtains that were folded to the inner sides of the columns, which could unfurl to cover the sides to form a more sealed building.

Among the people they passed, he could hear snippets of conversation in elven, of which only a little could be understood by the man. He did hear, several times the words 'Westron,' 'betrothed,' and 'large.' He reached up and touched the long braid that rested beside his face; he often forgot it was there, marking him as a taken man to elven folk.

His eyes went to Hyandai, still walking quietly beside him. She was matching his step; a further indicator that they were together, along with the long braid of his hair in hers, which she wore beside her own face. Harlen was curious about one thing, though, and tried to take her hand. She took it, and held to him firmly, giving him an encouraging smile.

The low murmur increased slightly at that, but not much. It was obvious they were together already, and the handholding was simply a more tactile reminder for Harlen that she was with him and he with her.

A sudden realization came to him about the elven ladies he saw about. They had sharper, more angular faces than Hyandai, some much more so. They were beautiful, he realized, but they were more alien to him than she, unfathomable, unreachable, and unknowable. He looked at his betrothed again, she was more round-featured, and much more lovely in his eyes.

She caught his glance and looked back, her expression somewhat inquisitive.

"You're so beautiful." Harlen said. "I love you."

She smiled broadly, her entire face glowing with pleasure at his words. "And I love you, my handsome lover." She replied, her eyes suddenly full of warmth, where before they had been rather set and somewhat cold, or perhaps simply thoughtful and reserved. 

One of the guards looked back and gave a quick smile, a tacit approval of their romance, Harlen realized. Not all elves were hostile to the intermingling of humans and elves.

The six began climbing the steps at the front of the huge building. A small crowd was gathering at their approach, though they waited quietly at the foot of the stairs. The soldiers stopped at the top, and spread apart, opening a way for the couple. The guard who had smiled at Harlen and Hyandai looked him in the eye again.

"Luck be with you." He whispered, giving Harlen a little head-bow.

The chamber formed inside the building was huge, almost two hundred paces deep and a hundred wide. Their soft soled boots made little noise on the white marble floor beneath them, and the ornate painting and woodcarving of the roof reflected in the floor, forming a almost dazzling illusion of walking on glass over a massive deep valley.

Harlen looked ahead and saw a raised dais, only one step, with two large carven thrones atop it. Two figures were seated on the thrones, and a half-dozen more elves standing about those two. Harlen knew a royal throne when he saw it, and knew he was about to be in for a lot of very stressful conversation.

They approached to within ten paces and Hyandai stopped. Harlen was watching her closely, so he stopped, as well. She lowered herself to one knee, with the other leg out almost straight. She bowed until her body was pressed to that leg. Harlen was not at all sure he could quite do that particular bow, but tried his best, managing something reasonably close.

Hyandai suppressed a giggle. "Not bad." She whispered. "You are too stiff."

The man seated upon one throne was elderly looking, or at least as elderly as any elf he had seen, which was not very. They both seemed to be about forty to his eyes, with some light graying at their temples, and the lady's hair showing white streaks among her dark brown tresses. He had no doubt that they were much, much older.

Their silvern eyes bored into the couple before them. "Hyandai." Ircandann said, nodding his head as she rose back to her feet. "You have company, despite the edict." He intoned; his voice was rich and had many sub-harmonics to it. Harlen found it sounded almost elven, even though he was speaking Westron. "I trust you have good reason for the violation?"

Hyandai nodded. "Lord Ircandann, without this man's assistance, I would be now dead." She said. "I would share Eleean's fate." She lowered her head, as did all the elves in by the thrones. 

Harlen lowered his, as well, out of respect for their ways, and for Eleean.

She pulled her long cloak aside, revealing the Ehladrel behind her shoulder. She removed it from the protective leather case, holding it out before her. "I have retrieved the Ehladrel of my clan." She said. The eyes of the assembled elves grew wide upon sighting of this heirloom, including the lord and lady, but only for a short moment.

"This too was only achieved with the assistance of my betrothed, Harlen of Morrovale." She said, almost formally. Harlen noted the working of 'betrothed' into that statement. She was making it clear that they were joined.

The lord made a gesture with his hand, and one of the elves around him walked forward and gently took the Ehladrel and case from her. He slipped it back into the case, bowing to Hyandai as he did so. He returned to Ircandann's side and stood silently again.

Ircandann made another gesture, and all the others left the area, walking quickly toward the back of the building, and soon moving out of earshot.

"Harlen, I thank you, in the name of all elvenkind for your assistance in this matter." He said, his eyes regarding the human, measuring him against unknown, and perhaps unknowable criterion. "However, you find us in dark times, man of Morrovale. We stand at the doorstep of war, a war like none have seen in many millennia in Feldare."

"We would welcome you to our land and homes gladly, at any other time." Ircandann said, coming to the meaningful part of the statement. "But with what is about to befall, we cannot be certain of anyone."

The look of alarm growing on Hyandai's face quickly made Harlen nervous. She licked her lips and, only with great effort, held her tongue. She cast a wary glance at Harlen; her eyes seemed apologetic.

"We understand you are betrothed, Hyandai, and we would not stand in the way of matters personal." The elven lord said. "But Master Harlen cannot remain among us."

Hyandai leaped at the lull in his words. "Then we will leave immediately, my lord." She said; her voice higher pitched than normal, and full of anxiety. "I have delivered the Ehladrel to you and the quest is finished."

A sympathetic smile came over the Lady Melewen's face. "Hyandai, you know that you cannot go." She said.

Alarms went off in Harlen's head. They were going to send him home, and Hyandai was not going to be allowed to go with him! He took a single step forward.

"Wait a minute." Harlen said, both the elven nobles turned to him, a slight look of surprise on their faces. "Neither Hyandai goes with I, or me stay."

Not a bad try. Hyandai thought, smiling with pride in her man.

"Master Harlen." Lord Ircandann said. "You must understand our position. We are about to go to war, civil war. There is no form of battle so grievous as brother taking up arms against brother. Or friend against friend." The elven noble gave him a long, hard look. "As you certainly know."

"Hyandai is our finest tactician." Lady Melewen said, picking up Ircandann's line of speech without pause. "Though she has never led troops into battle, she is our strategic advisor for the upcoming war, whether she likes or no. We feared we would be facing this foe without her able knowledge and are gladdened that this is not so. Again, we are most thankful."

"However." Ircandann said. "We cannot have you here when this event befalls. Your mere presence would just drive them into that much more of a frenzy."

Harlen sneered. "The people who wish to kill you would wish to kill you deader?" He asked.

A narrow smile formed on the noble's mouth. "Harlen, while I understand your frustration." He said. "The separation will only last the duration of the coming conflict."

Tears were forming in Hyandai's eyes. "My lord, please." She said. "I will be worth nothing to you, strategically, or otherwise, if you send Harlen away, or will not let me go. I have done more than my fair share of the effort, risking my very life, alone in the wilds beyond Windir. Only by fortuitous luck did I happen to come upon a man both able and willing to aid me, and give my heart to his keeping."

"Hyandai!" Lord Ircandann said, rather sharply. "You will accept the needs of your people!"

She bowed her head, the tears now falling. "Yes my lord." She said, her voice both broken and humbled.

Harlen felt rage and anger well up in himself. His fists clenched tightly and he set his jaw. The new hostility in his eyes was very evident and, naturally, the elven nobles saw it, quite clearly.

"Still your anger, Harlen." Ircandann said, raising a placid hand. "It will serve no purpose. This decision is immutable and final." He gestured with two fingers and the courtesans approached from the distant quarter of the building they had retreated to. 

"Nemanth." Ircandann said. "Arrange for a honor guard to escort Master Harlen to the border, with all haste. A mounted squad." He turned to Harlen. "You can ride, yes?"

Harlen nodded. "I have some experience with horses, Lord Ircandann," He said, through gritted teeth.

The nobleman nodded. "I give you one hour." He said, and they all rose, the entire retinue and the two nobles, and left the couple.

Hyandai sobbed as she fell into his arms. "I cannot believe they are doing this!" She cried. "My chest feels like it will crush inward upon my heart and fell me. It hurts so badly."

Harlen comforted her as best he could, though he was likewise quite distraught, his own chest tight and painful. "I can." He said. "You said there are three factions. I just met the Monarchists."

She nodded. "Truly." She said. "Still, to send away the man who helped bring back their only hope." She glared off to where the nobles and their retinue stood near the back corner of the building. "It is a foolish move, and me grieving for my betrothed will serve their needs poorly."

Harlen took hold of Hyandai's shoulders and looked at her. "No." He said. "You cannot do this half-heartedly, even if you are under duress." He kissed her brow. "You have to win this battle, else you may not live through it, and then I will loose you."

She wiped tears from her cheeks. "I should give my best?" She asked.

"Better than your best." Harlen replied. "Give them victory." He forced himself to smile. "Then we can be together again."

She nodded. "Very well, betrothed." She said. "I will give them victory, if it is in my power."

"Make it be." Harlen murmured into her hair as he pulled her close to him. 

Tears flowed down her cheeks and she sobbed into his chest for a long while. Her hands clasped the cloth of his tunic and released over and over. After a very long moment, she looked up at him, her eyes resigned and lost.

"If Wendy comes back from the hills before I return." She said. "Keep her company. You have both my blessing and my encouragement. She is a good woman." 

Harlen shook his head. "I thought that it was never to be one of us alone." He said.

She smiled up at him. "That is a rule for her, SHE is not to seek us alone." Hyandai explained. "If we wish it, we can do so, especially with the other's blessing, which you now have." Tears were still waiting to fall, but she had stopped them for now. "You both seem to like one another, and you should enjoy the other's company in my absence." Her eyes grew more deeply green for a moment. "I shall 'catch up' when I return, trust me." She said, her voice darker and huskier than normal. "Then you will both be my personal playthings until I am sated."




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 17



Hyandai's normal expression returned, though still saddened and near to tears. "Harlen, please, be careful." She said, kissing him deeply. The kiss lasted a long moment, then they pulled apart as the nobles returned, with their entourage, and a half dozen elven warriors, dressed similarly to the ones who had brought them to town, in close fitting leather armor, and shorter cloaks.

"Be watchful, my love." Harlen said as she stepped back. "I am going home, you're the one staying in a foreign land." He looked at all the slanted elven eyes about him. Most of them were full of sympathy, but a few were cold and uncaring of the lovers' dilemma. Luckily, none of the soldiers seemed to be of the latter sort.

"I am Cendran, I will be leading your escort, Master Harlen." He said. He performed a head-bow and then extended his hand, human-fashion. Harlen was surprised at the strength of the elf's grip. These riders were taller and broader built than most of their kindred, probably selected for cavalry due to those facts. Cendran was almost six feet in height, and well muscled. 

Hyandai was led away by Lady Melewen and two other women. She constantly turned about, though, watching Harlen with eyes full of tears. Finally, Harlen could no longer take stand the wrenching on his chest.

"Lead me to the horses, Cendran, please, I must get away before I change my mind and get myself into trouble." Harlen said.

Cendran nodded with understanding marking his face. "Of course, Master Harlen."

They led him to the outer perimeter of the massive chamber, then down to seven horses, all fine beasts, lean and powerful. They wore mottled green cloth covers over their white and brown markings. Camouflage, Harlen realized.

"We will be riding very fast and hard, Master Harlen." Cendran said. "We are commanded to have you to the river by dark."

Harlen nodded. He glanced over and saw Hyandai being led up a stair that wound about one of the ornthalion trees. Soon she was lost to his sight as she climbed up and around the massive trunk. Before her form passed out of sight, she gave him one last, long look, and then bowed her head and walked from view.

"Of course." Harlen said, turning to Cendran. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The trip was a fast one, as promised. These horses were quick, Harlen soon realized. He wondered how they bred horses that could make such speed upon loamy soil and rough ground. Regardless, these beasts did so, galloping at a speed that was both exhilarating and frightening. They tore through clearings, and vaulted over shrubbery that Harlen would have sworn too high and deep to clear, but the horses made little of it, or the burden of a grown human.

It was not for over half the trip that Harlen realized that they were not simply riding, but two of the horsemen were chanting as they went, quietly, but chanting. The horses were under a spell, or multiple spells. After almost five hours they had covered the entire distance between Embalis and the ford. The elves stopped at the ford, Cendran riding up beside Harlen.

"Value my words as you will, Harlen." Cendran said. "I think the lords make a mistake sending you away, as do many others." He smiled at the human. "At the very least, you would be another strong arm against the traitors."

The other five horsemen nodded their individual assents. Saluting Harlen with a hand across their chest, laid flat, and bowing their heads.

"Take the horse, Harlen." Cendran said. "My own gift to you for your assistance in recovering the Ehladrel." His face grew very serious. "Without that gift, what little hope we now have would not be. I would thank you for helping return the Lady Hyandai to us, but your trothplait speaks of thanks and blessings I could never match." The other riders chuckled slightly at that, along with Cendran's broad smile.

Harlen smiled and patted the horse's neck. "Does he have a name?" He asked the rider.

Cendran chuckled. "Yes, but he has not told it to me." He said. "Perhaps he will tell you."

Harlen chuckled, as well. "I thank you for the beast, then, Cendran." He said. "He is a fine animal, I will care for him well."

A moment passed, and Harlen felt it was time for farewell. "Cendran, please do me a favor."

"If it be in my power, Master Harlen, it will be done." The elf said.

"Watch over Hyandai for me." Harlen said. "I will not be able to live without her."

Cendran saluted. "It will be done." He said. "My men and I will protect her with our very lives." The other five nodded assent as well, murmuring agreement in both Westron and elven.

"Oh." Harlen said, holding out the soft leather pouch with the mock Ehladrel in it. "Please give this to Hyandai, she needs to find a young would-be blade dancer to gift it to."

Cendran took it with a smile, and looked at it. "Well crafted, Harlen." He said, grinning. "A young lad or lass will treasure it, especially knowing human hands wrought it."

Harlen had never thought that elves might value human produced items of quality in the same way humans valued the elven products.

"Then me thank you and hope to see all of you soon, after a grievous victory." Harlen intoned, in passable elven.

The elves smiled and wheeled their mounts about. Harlen had no doubt they would watch from the wood until he rode out of sight toward Morrovale.

He was unsure what to do. He was not even sure he could find Embalis again without a guide. He guided the horse across the river, crossing the ford easily with the mount's powerful swimming. The horse seemed a bit out of place, and nervous in the rather open terrain it now traversed as it crossed through the ruins of Markham's Ford. He looked back at Windir, the thought came to him again to ride back into the wood and find Embalis and steal Hyandai from them. It was just as quickly discarded.

No. He would have to play the elven game to have his elven woman. He now saw the plight of their love and the risks it would have to endure. He rode onward, at a slow trot. He would be in Morrovale before midnight with the aid of the horse. His heart felt like it was being wrenched from his chest as the distance between him and his beloved increased.

Harlen set his jaw sternly and rode hard for the village. Determined to get the moving over and done.

Just before midnight, he tied the horse's reigns at a post outside the Pierced Boar. "You stay put N'umessa." He said, stroking the muzzle of the beast. The beast snorted slightly and began drinking the water in the trough before the post.

He walked into the tavern, and found it lightly populated, just a few of the die hard drinkers. "Harlen!" Called Tammer. "Welcome back, and sooner than I had thought."

A second later, he stopped smiling at his former apprentice. "Oh, damn." He said, quietly. He walked up and patted Harlen's shoulder. "What happened son?" He said.

"Tammer." Harlen said. "They made her stay and made me leave, until some sort of dispute is settled."

Tammer nodded. "But she will be coming back?" He said, hopefully.

Harlen nodded dejectedly. "Yes." He said. "After the battle."

"Battle?" Tammer said, looking at Harlen askance. "What's that about?"

There's going to be a civil war, between Hyandai's village and some rogue elven isolationists." Harlen explained.

"May the One Protect." Tammer said, his voice distant. "There's never been anything like that I've ever heard."

"There is, or so Hyandai says." Harlen said. "When the dark elves split from the elves of the surface, thousands of years ago."

"Shit." Tammer muttered. "That's just bloody wonderful."

"Give me a bottle of rum, Tammer, and a shot glass, and beer." Harlen said, glowering at his idle hands. "And keep the beer flowing."

Tammer nodded and fetched the requested spirits.

Harlen looked down at the shot glass of brown liquid, and at the bottle of even more of it, and at the tall mug of beer. Well, this will have to do, won't it? He asked himself.

********** Author's Notes **********

I would like to thank all the readers of The Solitary Arrow for their ongoing commentary and criticism regarding this work. I am constantly striving to better the quality of this tale and welcome all constructive criticism, suggestions, and corrections. (EDIT 1.0)



The Solitary Arrow Ch. 18



"Harlen, dammit, you've been propping up my bar for two weeks now." Tammer groused, drawing a greasy rag over the oaken top of his bar. "It's not doing you any favors."

The huntsman's head came up from regarding his Coghlandish rum and looked at his former mentor, and current friend with a bleary eye. "How long did you mourn Loskenaur's departure, Tammer?" Harlen snapped.

Tammer thought a moment, then sighed. "A few months." He said. "And sometimes, I still do." His face fell and he shuffled down the bar to another patron who seemed to have run out of ale.

It had, indeed, been two weeks since Harlen had returned, without Hyandai, from Windir. He moved like an automaton, like a piece of Tammer's ridiculous water clock, which dripped and splashed behind Harlen's back.

In those two weeks, he had not hunted, nor had he processed any of the pelts or skins that he was already working upon. He simply existed, for all intents and purposes. He would sleep late, then rise and do some minor chores to maintain the house and its small grounds, then he would make his daily pilgrimage to Tammer's bar, and there ensconce himself upon the leftmost of the bar stools and begin to get seriously drunk.

The routine alarmed Harlen's friends, which he had more than he thought. His willingness in the past to help those in need of help, and to drop his own projects to help others complete theirs had won him many people who saw him as a worthy neighbor and gentleman.

They all worried for him. He did not shave, he did not bathe daily, and he seemed to be cold and distant now, rather than friendly and approachable.

Trevir and Tammer noticed it the most, naturally, both being close to Harlen. Trevir even tried a few times to do what he could to help Harlen, though it only earned him rebuke and scolding from his mentor.

The lad had finally confided in Tammer that Harlen cried at night, and was seen looking out his bedroom window. Tammer simply nodded and told the lad to still his tongue over gossip like that, but he worried for the both of them.

One of the outcompanies had now returned, the one of which Wendy was a part. She came to the house, freshly changed from her uniform and back into one of the modest dresses favored by the women of Morrovale.

She walked the flagstones from the road to Harlen's door nervously. At her knock, Harlen answered the door.

Wendy managed to not gasp as he looked at her. His skin was pale and rather sickly-looking and his hair was tangled, uncombed yet this day, and his eyes were bloodshot.

"Wendy." Harlen said, a bit surprised, but not terribly demonstrative in his reaction.

The young woman smiled bravely. "Harlen, how fare you?" She said, immediately regretting the question as she suddenly realized what his condition must mean.

He turned and invited her in with a gesture, and she followed. The house was clean, probably, she thought; do to Trevir's diligence.

"Hyandai is no longer here, and may be a while in returning." Harlen said, looking at her and offering her a seat while he scooted the rocking chair over beside the long bench.

Taking a seat, Wendy looked at him. "I am so sorry." She said. "You miss her terribly already, I see."

Harlen chuckled. "It is like missing the air." He said. "It is not something I thought of when she and I began our relationship – How bad it would feel if it might end."

Wendy touched his hand. "It's not ended, is it?" She asked.

"No." Harlen said. "But there is a war in the elven lands, and she may well not come back, falling to the blades of traitors." His face twisted with an expression of hatred and rage.

A long moment passed, with Wendy covering her mouth and her eyes wide in horror. "Poor Hyandai, and poor you, too, Harlen." She said, again patting his hand gently.

A long moment passed, with her watching his eyes. "Should I leave?" Wendy asked.

Harlen chuckled bitterly. "It is your choice, Wendy. Believe it or no, Hyandai bade me to seek your company."

She blinked a moment. "Okay." She finally said.

"I don't expect anything of you." Harlen said, rising form his seat, making the rocking chair creak with his shifting off of it. "You may stay here, if you wish it, with or without being a companion to me."

She smiled gently. "Harlen." She said, standing herself and putting a small hand upon his neck. "I am involved with both Hyandai and you. I do not seek out either of you alone, as Hyandai said is a rule. But if you seek me, with her blessing, then it should be allowable."

Harlen nodded. "I leave it to you." He said. She could see a rather hollow look to his eyes, like someone was in there, but they wished to remain hidden.

She giggled. "Leave it to me? What do you wish?" She asked. "Harlen, I am still a whole person, and seek to only be with people who wish my company."

Harlen looked at her, his eyes gaining a little of the light of realization. "I wish you to stay." He said.

Her rather hurt expression changed quickly to a broad smile. "Then I will stay with you." She said.

He felt her hand on his neck shift to his cheek where its mate took up position opposite on his other cheek. She pulled him down and kissed him.

After a moment, he allowed himself to enjoy the kiss, then put his arms around her slender shoulders and held her tightly to him.

Wendy's tongue wormed into his mouth and petted his own, encouraging him to further deepen the kiss.

He did so, and their kiss quickly became more passionate. Harlen's defenses were down somewhat, through shock and surprise; first by Wendy's appearance, then by her acceptance of him alone. He felt her welcoming embrace of his body and the heat of her kiss, and it was good to feel wanted.

The young woman pulled away. "Before any further greetings, Harlen." She said, her blue eyes playfully sparkling. "You need a bath."

Harlen nodded. "I imagine I do." He said. "I will take one now."

He turned from her with a smile and made his way toward the bathing room. He opened the door and turned to tell her to make herself comfortable. She was right behind him, smiling.

A moment passed with him blinking at her.

"You don't mind company now, do you?" She asked.

Harlen gave her a lopsided grin. "Not at all." He said. Inside he felt a twinge of guilt toward what was happening and likely to happen soon after. Should he do these things? He had Hyandai's blessing, but was it given for the wrong reasons?

They entered the room and Harlen bolted the two doors, one leading out into the courtyard and the other back into the common room. He then took out a flint and steel and started the fire beneath the massive tub.

Wendy walked up to him, her hips swaying seductively. She was amazingly different when alone with someone she was comfortable with, not at all mousy.

Her hands lifted his tunic and she pulled it over his head, smiling at his broad chest and powerful arms. "You know, grandfather would be vexed if he knew of us." She said.

Harlen nodded. "Yet he will need to be told something, else word come to him another way and make him even angrier." Harlen said, seriously, and kicking off his high boots.

She unfastened his pants and slid them down his legs and took them off his feet as he lifted them. She looked over his body, touching him here and there with her fingertips, sending little thrills through him as she did so.

Wendy then regarded him curiously as he stood there, then he started slightly. He reached out and began to unbutton the blouse of her long dress. She watched his hands as he did so, smiling softly. The dress fell to the floor as he pushed the shoulders back and it slid down her body.

Her form was lithe, almost elven, he thought, as she stood before him nude. She had shaved her pubic hair off at some point, apparently very recently, judging by the smoothness of the skin. He thought a moment, and realized her hair had none of the blueishness it had before, it was now plain light brown hair, still pretty, but not nearly as, well, colorful.

She seemed to be waiting for something, and Harlen was not sure what it might be. "Is something wrong?" He asked.

She shook her head. "I was waiting to see what I was to do next." She said. "The water is surely not warm yet."

Harlen nodded at that. "Indeed, it's not." He said, reaching over the side and testing it with his fingertips. "Another ten minutes." He added, looking back at her fair skin and gently pointing breasts.

"Whether I'm clean or not, you certainly are." Harlen said, noting the recently washed look of her smooth skin.

She nodded as he walked toward her and put his hands upon her slender waist. Harlen pushed her gently to the smooth wall of the room, and she leaned back against the sanded and varnished wooden panels.

"What do you have in mind huntsman?" She asked playfully, looking up at him like an innocent waif.

He started to kiss his way down her, beginning at her tensed neck, then down her chest. He suckled one breast then the other, eliciting soft sighs as his tongue and lips moved over the dark, pointed tips.

Her fingers were playing in his hair as he kissed on downward, over her stomach and then onto her thigh, kissing, especially, the place where her thigh and body joined. Then he followed that slight valley to her middle, moving down over her shaved mound.

She helpfully moved her legs apart as he knelt before her and ran his hands around to palm the round lobes of her rump. Wendy gasped as he slid his tongue over her opening, and then into her some short ways, then out again and over her hooded clitoris.

The fingers in his hair twisted and entwined and pulled gently, forcing his face with more pressure against her groin.

As he began lapping more earnestly, he moved one shoulder up under her and nudged her thigh backward, then the other, she was almost sitting on him, her weight mostly resting on his broad shoulders.

Once she was used to this position, he began to stand. Her back, now slick with perspiration from the rapidly warming room, slid up the varnished wall smoothly as he lifted her up and up until he stood straight with her slouched against the wall before him. He continued to massage her opening with his tongue, and would pause to suck and flick his tongue across her clit for a few moments.

She began to wriggle in his grip, his hands now supporting her more practically at her waist. Soon, though, she found the angle she liked and simply began to move her pelvis around gently in a motion that amplified the sensations firing up her spine from his gentle lapping.

She giggled as she came, then smiled down at Harlen as he watched her. Her hands ran over his skull and her fingers through his long, dark hair.

"Wow." She said, as she grinned broadly. "That was something else." Wendy peered over her shoulder at the distant floor. "Eep!" She exclaimed. He felt her fingers tighten into his hair before he could begin lowering her to her feet.

After he had deposited her back on solid ground, she smiled up at him as he stood. "Sorry, I didn't realize I was up that high." She said. "I hope I didn't hurt you."

Harlen grinned and took her small hand into his. "No." He said. He began walking up the three stairs to the tub. "The water should be warm by now."

She followed him, with her arm extended to his hand. "Oh." She cooed. "I've heard about your tub. Grandpa told me about how you talked him out of the old storage keg that got the leaky board." She dipped her hand into the slightly steaming water.

Harlen climbed into the tub, using the little ladder sitting at one side, then helped Wendy climb over, lifting her the last part of the way to the sweet sound of her giggles.

She took up the large soap block and started lathering his hair and back as he stood facing away from her. "I wish Hyandai were here." She said, her voice wistful. "I truly wish to be with both of you."

Harlen nodded, she did not see the subtle shift in his expression, a sadness that came into it, just at the edges. He liked the feeling of Wendy's strong hands on his back as she massaged and washed his shoulders and spine, but he wished the hands were smaller still, and not quite so strong.

"Harlen, if you wish me to simply stay here, and nothing else happen, I can do so." She said, her voice small and quiet. "I do not wish to hurt you or Hyandai."

He looked over his shoulder at her. Her face was earnest, and somewhat sad, as was his own. Had Hyandai affected her so much in one night? He supposed it could be so, especially with the warmth in the young woman's mind of two lovers at one time. She probably felt very desired that two people wished to caress her, and invite her into their private moments.

"I don't know." Harlen said, his voice very low and quiet. "Perhaps we should wait for her to return."

Wendy nodded. "Then we will do so." She said, her face brightening greatly. "I wish for no strife between you two, or with me and Hyandai, or with you and I." She sighed. "I see now why it is not the normal way of things to have two lovers. It can grow quite complicated."

He turned in the water and regarded her, a wide smile spreading on his face. "That's easy for you to say, you already had a release this night." He chuckled and splashed water at her.

Wendy giggled at the attack of water and splashed him back, pushing herself to the far side of the tub and shrieking in delight as he pushed her under the water with one hand on top of her head.

They managed to finish bathing one another without any more aquatic assaults. They flirted openly, and even teased, but drew the line at actually doing anything more than superficially sexual.

Harlen watched the nubile woman dry off, smiling at him. "The wait shall make the receiving more welcome." She said as she scrubbed the towel on her head, drying her hair.

Harlen nodded, drying himself off and giving her a small kiss as he passed her to start closing the shutters that would starve the fire under the tub and snuff it out.

Wendy wrapped the large towel about herself and gathered up her clothes, and then his. "What sort of sleeping arrangements shall we follow?" She asked, her arms laden with their garments.

"I suppose we can sleep together." He said. "If you can manage to keep your hands off of all this." He said, theatrically posing like a classical Syrisian hero from some mistrel's reenactment play. "What will you tell your family?" Harlen asked. By family, she knew he meant Tammer.

She thought a moment. "I can simply say I am comforting a miserable friend." She said. "Grandpa said you've been drinking yourself blind almost every night since you returned from Windir." Her eyes held a small measure of irritation with his embarrassing performance. 

Harlen had a sudden flash of insight regarding a major hazard of having two lovers, the ire of two annoyed women. He wrapped his towel about his waist and unlocked the back door to the bathing room and then led her up the stairs to the bedroom. She smiled at the huge four-posted bed.

"That's quite a bower." She commented, sitting on the edge. "Roomy enough for three, hmm?" Her grin was contagious, and he found himself unable to not smile at her pleasure. "Harlen, I assure you, being of good cheer is not easy for me, normally, even. And much less so with our lover's absence."

He realized how hard it probably was, and also why she was putting forth that effort, simply to make him less miserable. He looked in the mirror and saw that misery etched deeply in his face, making him look older than his twenty-three years.

"I'll try to not be so long of face." Harlen said, sitting beside her. "You merit a good portion of happiness by your company." He adopted his lopsided smile. "In days before, I would have been overjoyed to have such a beauty in my bedroom."

Her smile broadened. "Yet, Hyandai is more so?" She said. At the subtle shift in Harlen's expression, she added. "I know that is not what you meant." She slid closer to him and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Thank you for the compliment." She said, batting her eyelashes up at him. "I do like being told I'm pretty by a handsome man."

Harlen chuckled and kissed her forehead. "When I locate one, I'll tell him." He said.

Wendy got a look of mock shock on her face and punched him in the arm, but softly. "You stop that." She chided. "If you can compliment me and I accept it, you can do the same, barbarian."

They crawled up onto the bed and tossed their towels onto the chair. Wendy curled up against Harlen's side, resting her head on his shoulder. He petted her hair as she sighed at his chest, washing over him with her warm breath.

"She is coming back, isn't she?" Wendy asked; her soft voice tinged with worry.

Harlen continued stroking her long brown hair. "Yes." He said, closing his mind to any other option. "She's coming back." He hoped his voice had more confidence in it than his head did.

After a few minutes, she dozed off, in that way women seem able to do. He regarded her slumbering face. She really was very pretty, and looked so innocent while sleeping. He kept right on stroking her soft hair, though, afraid if he stopped she would awaken. What would he do if Hyandai did not return? Would he go after her? Would he move on to another woman, perhaps even Wendy? Would he simply wander off into the woods and disappear? He did not know. He hoped fervently he would not have to find out.

He kept himself company with these dark thoughts for a long while into the deepening night, before sleep crept up on him and carried him off, as well, even as he resented its lack of arrival.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Leave me!" Hyandai screamed at Ceriandel. "I will not see the healers. There are people in greater need of their time." She stood up unsteadily from her bed. "I will be well, it is simply the load being thrust upon my shoulders."

Ceriandel backed out of the room, a look of deep worry lining his face. "But . . .." 

She turned again, her eyes blazing bronze. He backed on out and turned onto the catwalk, walking around the high bower of Hyandai's room.

Hyandai was not eating, and what she ate would not stay down. She was weakening fast, and given to fits of anger now. How much of it was due to the inner workings of her mind? She was being forced to ram her mind through channels foreign to her, channels laid down several years ago when she had touched the mind of Abian Centurian.

His name had been Verus, and he had been a good man, gratefully, else she might have been driven insane by trying to call up his mind out of her own. The effect it was having upon her, even now, was terrible.

She came out of the room, moving with a definite air of purpose. "Send for my aides." she told the handmaiden who waited outside her door as she passed, walking across the long catwalk between her room and the higher room that was her 'command post.'

She stood over the faintly glowing model of Embalis. It was an exquisite replica of the town, down to the tiniest feature. She leaned close, eying herself in the little room in the model.

That always made her smile.

The smile was short-lived, as most were these days. As the first aide came stumbling in, still pulling her tunic into place, it evaporated.

"The Warleader summons me?" She said, standing at something of attention and bowing her head. They had originally genuflected fully to her, but she had put a quick stop to the time-wasting formality for the nonce.

"Yes, Ealina." Hyandai said. "First thing in the morning, you will gather a work team of twenty and begin pulling down those homes there on the ground." She pointed to the map, where a row of small ground-bound homes was located. "Relocate the people to the guard barracks emptied by the traitors who have left us."




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 18



Ealina, a young elven lass, not even yet of age, nodded. "Yes, Warleader." She stroked her own blonde hair and blinked a few times at the illusion.

"There is a problem?" Hyandai asked, her voice sounding terse.

"It is simply," the young elf said, "my home lies among those." She said, her eyes tearing up a little. "I will do as ordered, Lady Hyandai."

Hyandai's expression softened a little. "After the war, we will build you new homes, in the trees, where you deserve to live." She said.

Ealina smiled gratefully. "Yes, Warleader." She said.

"They need to be down by midday." Hyandai said. "If you wish to wake the people so they can get a head start on packing their goods, please do so, I will exempt them from duty tomorrow."

The girl dipped her head again and left the room, even as two more aides came in, better dressed but less timely in their arrival.

"Move more quickly next I call." Hyandai said negligently as they bowed their heads.

"Yes, Lady Hyandai." They said, almost in unison. They were two young lads, the same age as Ealina, or nearly so. Hyandai at merely fifty-nine regretted the necessity of putting even younger elves into harm's way the way she was going to. But there was nothing for it. They were nearly outnumbered two to one, even with the younger people in their ranks.

"Amtharlian, you are to pass word to the captains that I want four scouts sent out from each company immediately." Hyandai issued the terse commands. "They are to scour all about the town and try to get word of the enemy."

Amtharlian nodded and took off at a jog to do as she ordered without a word.

"Inlashe, you were charged with bringing in people from outlying homes last day." She said, looking down at the map. "Report."

"We recovered fifteen, Warleader." He said. "We found two homes empty and ransacked."

She looked at him. "Those people are being kept separate from the main troops?" She asked. She suspected some might be Isolationist spies, planted to get inside information from within Embalis.

"Per your orders, Lady Hyandai." Inlashe said. "Where should they be stationed?"

She looked at the map again. "Put them upon the wall, as arrow carriers and to assist with the wounded." Hyandai said. "They are not to have weapons issued. Place some spears near to them. If they are overrun, they can flee to those. Here and Here." She said this last while jabbing her slender finger at two points near a proposed palisade wall.

He nodded and fled the room. She glowered at the model village again. The sun was just barely hiding behind the horizon, and the sky was brightening with the first signs of morning. She rubbed her eyes. Another night without sleep, she thought.

"Perhaps the Warleader is sleepy?" A male voice said from the doorway, behind her.

She turned with a bit of peeve in her eyes. It evaporated as she looked upon her father. "Father." She said and smiled. "Is it so obvious?"

He nodded. "You are working yourself to death, my daughter." He said, walking toward her. "You should at least take a nap." His hand touched her shoulder.

"There is still much to do." She said, turning back to the map. "Things to prepare, walls, trenches . . .." She said.

"And they will be done." Emorianel said, interrupting her. "For now, you need rest and food. You have lost over ten pounds."

Hyandai shook her head. "I cannot eat." She said. "Keeping my mind in the Centurion's paths makes me ill. It simply does not stay."

He nodded. "I may know something that can help." He said. "Come. Take a moment and sit down with your old father and try his remedy." His hand was strong, like Harlen's but he held to her arm only enough to urge her out the door. She walked ahead of him across the footbridge to another platform, on another ornthalion, then across yet another to his small home.

She sat at the little table and smiled as he moved about the room. Her father had also been working hard these days. Forging weapons and even armor with incredible haste, leaving many items completely undecorated. She knew this pained him, but the items needed to work, and more importantly, needed to be finished, not still being inlayed as the traitors stormed the gates.

"Tell me about this man you have plaited." Her father said, starting something to boiling upon a small oval of stone that heated itself for cooking. His expression was not judgmental, simply interested.

Hyandai thought a moment. "He is much like you." She said, realizing she had said this to Harlen, as well. "Harlen is a man who does things for himself. He is also strong, maybe a little stronger than you, father." She said diplomatically.

"Is he then?" Emorianel said, with an expression of contemplation. "Should I challenge him to wrestling then?" He grinned at her.

She giggled. "He would lay you out like a sheet of steel, father, to be honest. He is huge."

Her father smiled. "I figured as much." He said. "Your perceptions are skewed by spending much time with humans. They are terribly strong, even a normal man is nearly my match." He flexed his impressively muscular arms. "A strong man, to us, is mighty, indeed."

Her eyes grew wistful. "He is strong, and he is handsome." She sighed.

An eyebrow raised on the elder elf's forehead at her amorous sigh. "I see." He said. "And you know his feelings for you?"

She nodded. "I have seen into his mind, so he could not have lied." She said. "He thinks me the most beautiful of women, and the smartest, and the most wondrous." She rattled off these traits to her father.

"All things I already knew." Emorianel said, smiling at her. He started adding ingredients to the boiling water. He thought a long moment before breaching a subject elven folk were hesitant to bring up even among loved ones.

"And your fey?" He asked, stirring the pot.

She blushed a little at the mention of her fey. Of course her father knew what fey she bore; it was part of their ceremony of acceptance into the clan.

"Harlen accepts it, though it troubles him." Hyandai said. "He says that it is the price of being blessed with my perfection." She tried unsuccessfully to stifle a giggle.

Her father turned, pouring the steaming brew from the pot into a crockery mug. He sat it before her. "Let it cool a moment." He said. "So he knows how it may drive you from time to time? Many elves could not countenance that, and humans are often more jealous than elven mates."

"We have spoken of it, and he accepted it, at least in word." Hyandai said. "It has yet to be put to a test if his will can follow his word."

"I hate to council something like this, but you should make sure that such a test is given before the betrothal is over, if you are set to marry this man." Her father advised. "It is too important that you know his reaction, in his heart."

She looked down at the cooling mug of liquid. "I do not know if I can do that consciously, father." She said. "It would be a betrayal of his acceptance to deceive him in such a thing. I would never be able to look at him or myself again."

Her father nodded. "I know, darling daughter." He said, sighing. "I knew I raised you too well, you have too many scruples." He chuckled.

"Well, yes." She said. "And I am glad for them, every day." She teased.

She began sipping the broth he had made for her. It had a sweetness to it and a meatiness. She swallowed a mouthful. Then another.

Her father stood back up and walked to the door onto the outer catwalk of this platform. "Your man sounds good. I hear he is a huntsman of Morrovale?"

"Yes." Hyandai said between sips. She found she really savored the taste of this concoction of her father's.

"Who mentored him?" Emorianel asked.

"A man named Tammer." She said. "Why would that matter, though?" He could hear the curiosity in her voice.

He kept looking toward the sun as it crested the horizon and began its ascent into the new day. "Tammer was a man I met. He was here for a time, in Embalis." He said. "He was a good man, good enough that we taught him many things. Back in those days we fancied ourselves capable of influencing men in subtle ways to make them better neighbors. We tried an experiment based on our learnings in the Windy Isles with the huntsmen of Morrovale, or some of them." He started to turn about. "I do not kno . . .." He stopped speaking as his eyes fell upon Hyandai's form. She was slumped onto the table her fiery mane spread about her slumbering head.

He picked her up gently and carried her to her old room in his small home and laid her upon her bed. She would accuse him of drugging her later, which was patently untrue. But the warmth and comfort of the broth had given her the impetus she had needed to fall asleep. She may be the Warleader of the village, but for this moment, she was his daughter.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

He awoke in almost the exact position he had fallen asleep in. His eyes slowly opened and regarded the morning for the first time in two weeks without the throbbing in the back of his head that would have reminded him of the excesses of the night before. Sun was streaming in the open curtains of the eastward window. The air had a chill to it, though. Late fall was definitely settling in. He would have to start setting a fire in the small fireplace at night soon.

Harlen turned his head, noticing the weight on his shoulder. Wendy was still there, curled up against his side, with her hand upon his chest. Her brown hair covered most of her face now, but she apparently had not moved much last night, either.

Part of Harlen's mind rebelled against this other girl in Hyandai's spot on the bed, he realized that, last night, he had unconsciously traded places with his normal spot on the left side of the bed. He was on the right side now, and Wendy was in his normal place. He smiled at his subconscious for its kind job of keeping things in their place.

Wendy stirred a few moments later, waking even more slowly than Harlen had. She blinked sleep from her eyes, and raised one hand to rub them. 

"Good morning." She said, quietly, a tiny smile on her lips.

Harlen smiled back at her and ran his fingertips down her spine. "Good morrow." He responded.

Sliding from the bed slowly, Wendy took to her feet. She stretched extensively, with a couple of pops of her spine as she did so.

Harlen watched. He was certainly not immune to a pretty woman displaying herself in a show of languid stretching. 

She then sat upon the bed and began dressing, a short process, considering it consisted of simply sliding into her dress and putting on her soft shoes.

By the time she had finished, Harlen was pulling his tunic over his own head, and then rummaged in the wardrobe for some pants.

She came up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. He started slightly at the touch, turning his head to face her.

"Breakfast?" She asked him.

Harlen nodded. "I will make some." He said.

Wendy giggled. "I was offering to make it." She said. "But if you insist."

He pulled the pants on and slid his feet into a pair of low boots. "It's not a problem." Harlen responded. "I like making breakfast."

She followed him down the stairs into the common room. Trevir was in the kitchen, chewing on a chunk of jerked deer meat and eating an orange. When he saw Wendy, his young face registered some mild surprise.

"Trevir, good morning." Harlen said.

An immediate look of suspicion came over the lad's expression. "Morning Master Harlen." He said rather stiffly.

"So, you're Trevir?" She said. "Hyandai has told me much of you. I think you're cuter than she says, though." She walked up to him. "I'm Wendy." She said.

"Master Tammer's grand daughter?" Trevir asked, blinking between Harlen and Wendy.

Wendy nodded. "Yes. Actually." She said, smiling. "I'm surprised you've heard of me."

"Hyandai told me about you." Trevir said. "She said you were her best friend among human women. She called you an elven name, but I can't remember it. Miss Hyandai said it meant something like sister."

It was Wendy's turn now to blink, as well as Harlen's. Luckily for him, he was facing the cabinets in the kitchen. She recovered admirably quickly, though. 

"Well, yes, something like a sister. Yes." She said, trying to put a face on her unique position in the couple's life. "I'm sure you will understand better after a while."

Trevir nodded. Most of the suspicion was now gone, but not quite all of it. "Miss Hyandai didn't come back with Harlen." He said, in case she did not know. "She's leading the loyal elves against the traitors in Windir."

"So I have heard." Wendy said, taking a seat opposite him and taking an apple from the fruit bowl. She slipped a small knife from her belt and began skinning the fruit. "So, tell me, Master Trevir, what is it like to be a hero?"

He grinned broadly. "I get lots of free pastries in town." He said. "And don't get chased out of nearly as many merchant's stores as before."

She giggled at that. "Well, that sounds fair enough." She commented. "No medals, though?"

Harlen was again smiling. He liked the sound of morning banter in the kitchen. He had not realized how much he had missed it, having slept through so many mornings of late.

"Nah." Trevir said. "I'd need a uniform for a medal. And huntsmen, even apprentices, don't wear uniforms."

Harlen looked over his shoulder. "That wasn't always true, Trevir." He said.

The two looked at him. "What?" Said Trevir.

"Only about a hundred years ago, huntsmen did wear uniforms." Harlen said. "They all wore green tunics with black pants."

Wendy looked at Harlen, with his green tunic and black pants. "Did they, then?" She said, smiling.

"They did!" Harlen said, noting her look of skepticism.

Trevir grinned broadly. "I think uniforms would be very nice." He said. "At least in town. Then people could say 'There walks a huntsman'."

Harlen began frying bacon. "Indeed they could." Harlen said. "But when the huntsmen became freemen, they weren't required to wear uniforms, and they slowly stopped wearing matching clothes. Now only the badge of allotment remains." He held up the small metal disk that he wore when hunting, and kept in his pocket when at home.

"Why do the huntsmen in Morrovale act different from the ones in other lands?" Trevir asked. "Nadia says she met some a couple weeks back, and they were rather crude and somewhat mean. They picked on her, being a girl and wanting to be a huntsman."

He was speaking of a female apprentice, who was the understudy of Relkan, one of the best huntsmen in Morrovale. She was Trevir's age, and he had held a crush upon her for a long while. In fact, it had ended only a few months ago, when Trevir had started speaking of the baker's daughter.

"The duke allots the land parcels to huntsmen here through other huntsmen." Harlen said. "There is a council of three senior, and retired, huntsmen, Tammer is one." He chuckled. "They try their best to keep the huntsmen they approve from year to year on the straight and narrow." His face soured a little. "They took my allotment for a year after the 'incident.' They told me that I could have it back when I had learned discipline." 

Trevir winced. "Tammer was upset?" He asked.

"Extremely." Agreed Harlen. "More in my lack of self control than over doing away with the lout. Let that be a lesson to you." He pointed an iron spatula at Trevir. "Keep your head at all times. Even when your blood is boiling."

Trevir nodded. "I know. I'll try." He intoned.

The breakfast went well, and Harlen managed to talk Trevir into doing the dishes without too much fuss. He and Wendy retired to the workroom.

"I have no idea how much he should know." Wendy said.

Harlen nodded. "Me either." He said. "But I think all the truth would be a bit much for a lad his age."

Wendy giggled. "Yeah, I'll just tell one of the village's biggest newsmongers that I am Hyandai and Harlen's bedmate."

"Wouldn't that open a new world to his young eyes." Harlen said, looking at Wendy. "The lad's already confused enough from Hyandai's time here."

An odd look came over Wendy's face. "You know, I guess what I am is the girlfriend of a couple, as if you and Hyandai were one unit." She said.

Harlen though on that a moment, "That is a good way to view it." He said. He had begun to scrape some skins, removing the fur in preparation for the final parts of making it into leather. After a short while, they discovered Wendy was quite adept at this work, and she helped him through the day. It was not until they were done with the processing that he realized that, naturally, she would be good at it, she had probably helped Tammer prepare dozens, if not hundreds of pelts. "Am I strange for finding a woman so attractive?" Wendy asked.

Harlen smiled. "For finding Hyandai attractive? I don't see how." He replied.

Wendy giggled. "That is truth." She said. "Hyandai was so pretty when I met her, I couldn't believe she wanted to even speak to me. When she kissed me, I thought I might faint."

A moment passed as Harlen mulled it over. "I don't think you're really very strange." He said. "I have heard women oft kept each other company when the men were off to war, back in the days when wars were more common in the realms. Perhaps it is a normal attraction, put there just for such a reason." He gave things a moment to sink in. "I think, also, Meagan and Tessa are more than mere friends?"

"It could be so." Wendy said, grunting as she heaved a stack of pelts onto the mound he kept ready to be delivered to the merchants in town. "To both statements." She grinned back at him. "The two are rather close, and rumors in the company run rampant, though rumors do that of their own accord."

They finished up the chores. Harlen then puttered around his workroom for a couple of hours, straightening it up. It has been sorely neglected these last weeks and needed putting into order. Trevir helped out with sharpening tools and doing general running about, saving Harlen many steps. Wendy mostly sat and talked with the two of them. Learning more of Hyandai and keeping the two men chatting away happily with her good humor.

Wendy excused herself and left for the evening, telling Harlen that she would stay at her home this night. He gave her a little kiss as she left.

Trevir cornered him soon after, catching him in the kitchen. "She's more than a friend, isn't she?" He asked. He was not accusative, simply asking.

Harlen put down the pan. "Yes, in a special way, she is." Harlen answered. "But believe me, it is something you will know more of when you are older. Trust me in this."

"So long as it does not harm Miss Hyandai." Trevir said, his face quite serious.

A smile crossed Harlen's face. "It does not." He said. "I would never do anything to betray her. I think you know that."

Trevir nodded. He then set out plates for the two of them. He was much relieved to have his mentor sober for an evening, though the matter of Wendy still bothered him somewhat. All in all, he preferred Harlen sober with mysterious companionship than drunken and alone. While Harlen was not a mean drunk, he reminded Trevir enough of his real father that it scared him still, somewhere deep down inside.

They ate in silence, the forks and knives the only sounds in the small house. Harlen even allowed Trevir a glass of some of the wine he kept in the cupboard.

The two then retired to the common room with large beer mugs. Harlen picked up the book on elven lore he had borrowed. "Have you finished this?" He asked Trevir.

Trevir nodded. "I've read it all." He said. "Though I still look at it to glean more from it, especially the etchings."

Harlen thumbed through the book and found one of the illustrations. It showed a village, very much like Embalis. Perhaps the artist had even used Hyandai's home village as a model for this illustration. It did not look very defensible. Oh, the platforms, high up the trees would stand against a foot assault. But he feared they would simply be burned in, or down.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 18



No, trapping oneself upon one of the platforms, or flets as the elves called them would not do during battle. It would be upon the ground the fight would happen. The beautiful, wide-open plan of the town would work against it, making for a very long defensive line.

Or would it? He looked closer at the etching, even more convinced now that it was Embalis he was looking upon. The creek on one side, and those tall, colorful brambles, even one building with an oddly solid stone wall on one side. There were defensive lines built into the very terrain and landscape of the village. He wondered if that were all intentional.

Tacticians or not, elves understood defenses, and understood them well, if instinctively.

"Fine, don't answer me." Trevir said with mock petulance.

Harlen started. "Hmm?" He asked.

"I asked if the village really looked like the one in the picture?" Trevir asked, apparently repeating a question Harlen had not heard.

"Yes, actually, perhaps even the very village." Harlen said, looking at the etching again.

Trevir got up from the rocking chair. "Really?" He asked, peering over Harlen's hand at the picture. "That's Embalis?"

"I think it is, at least it was, fifty or more years ago." Harlen said.

Harlen closed the book and handed it to Trevir. "I must go to Tammer's." He said.

Trevir's face fell, saddened at the sudden and obvious relapse in Harlen's problems of late.

"No, not to drink, Trevir." Harlen said. "That is done with." He looked at his half-empty mug. "Drink that yourself, if you've a mind, or dump it down the sump. I go to speak with my old mentor, not buy rum from a barkeep."

Trevir smiled at that. "Good, then." He said.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I don't care how old those buildings are, or who owns them." Hyandai said, looking down at a shimmering illusion of the village hovering over a tabletop in the chamber atop the master tree. The room was otherwise dimly lit and elves came and went constantly, carrying messages to and from Hyandai, now the Warleader of Embaris.

"But Lady!" The elder elf said. "They are . . .."

"Going to provide cover for the enemy outside THAT section of palisades." Hyandai bit out, pointing to a section of the map. "Making our archers useless. Burn them down, and do it now! Else I will relieve you of duty and find someone who will." Her eyes were flaming golden now, and flashed in the torchlit chamber.

The aide scurried out of the door to enact her commands. She watched after him, shaking her head.

She was convinced the attack would fall from the north, and was ensuring the enemy would find little cover of any kind. She had the most recent reports flowing in from their scouts – Those that returned, anyway. She had just ordered that no more were to be sent out, as fully half of them were not returning at their assigned time. The enemy outnumbered them almost two to one.

This bodes not well. She thought to herself as she glowered at the illusory village on the tabletop.

One of the captains came up to her. She thought his name was Therann. "Why are you so sure they will attack at night, Warleader?" He asked.

She looked over the miniature village at him. "Because, they fear we will have human assistance from the Windy Isles." She said. "They will try to minimize human capabilities, nighttime is very crippling for human troops, their vision is very poor in near darkness."

"But we have no human troops." Therann protested.

Hyandai regarded him again. "I know that and you know that." She said. "But, unless they have some very good spies in our midst, they will not know it."

The captain looked at her curiously. "I fear they do." He said.

Hyandai nodded. "I do, as well." She said. "That is why I have had several of the people I trust spreading rumors that a company of rangers from the Windy Isles are marching toward us now."

Therann smiled. "Very nice." He said. "I take it I am one of those trusted folk?"

A long, uncomfortable moment passed while she blinked at him. "I do not know that for certain, Therann, I am sorry." She said. "But I deem it is now too late for new information to reach our enemies.

He actually looked a bit crestfallen, but she could not afford to trust anyone whose loyalty was not definite. Even her brother had apparently defected, as he had left three days ago, stealing a horse to do so. She knew that this war was pitting clansman against clansman, but for her own brother! She seethed inside at the betrayal of her own blood. The captain came up with some excuse to leave as her eyes turned bronze.

The smell of burning wood reached up into the chamber from the many small fires below, as the people enacted her orders. She walked out onto the catwalk around the room, surveying the real village below. Teams of elves were erecting another section of palisades. It grieved her to kill so many trees, but without the walls, the enemy would overrun them in minutes.

As she watched, a great oak near the edge of the village fell. Another team descended upon it with axes. She shook her head. They had to even craft some axes, as they only had a very few. There would be many prayers tonight begging the spirits to forgive them. Not the least of which would be Hyandai's own.

She looked down at her arms. The muscles showed clearly on them, she had lost almost fifteen pounds in the last two weeks, she ate little and often could not keep down even that. She had recently settled on drinking a broth-like drink that her father had come up with. It gave her some energy, but did not sate the hunger that gnawed at her gut.

Her eyes flicked to a company of elven militia, practicing with spears in ranked formation. They were competent, she supposed, but needed to be good. Hyandai reminded herself to have them drilled with mannequins. They had to get it through their heads that there would be people in front of them when they wield those spears in combat.

There was no satisfaction in her eyes as she surveyed Embalis. In its place was a grim determination. This town would not fall to the traitors, not if even only she defended it. 

She feared it would come to just that.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

"You've been to Embalis?" Harlen asked his former mentor.

Tammer nodded. "Of course, the border was more open in those days." he said. "We could come and go freely, if we had a mind, and minded our manners in the wood."

Harlen shook his head. "No." He said, almost accusingly. "There is more to it than that." He added.

The look on Tammer's wrinkled old face became a little worried, or embarrassed, or both. "It was a long time ago, Harlen, let it rest."

"I cannot." Harlen said. "It's important."

Tammer sighed mightily, looking over at his former apprentice, their eyes locked for a long moment. "If I tell you, you shall not go brooding it about."

Harlen nodded agreement to those terms.

"Okay." Tammer said, steeling himself. "Back when I was a young buck, like you." He poked Harlen's chest with a gnarled finger. "The elves were here aplenty. They came and went pretty regular, to the point where you could expect to see a half-dozen of them any old day." His eyes defocused, he was no longer in today, Harlen knew. "The huntsmen, like myself, were still a somewhat organized lot, like part of the militia. We even wore the uniform, in town, though it wasn't very uniform by then, just had to be green and black."

"Well, the elves approached the lot of us, and talked to us about being trained by them as 'rangers,' and coming back to Morrovale and having that extra knowledge with us." Tammer said smiling. "Well, about forty of us agreed to it, and they took us to Embalis. That's where I met Loskenaur. They trained us for two years, teaching us elven ways and tricks, and other stuff, some of us even picked up a touch of their religion, though they never forced it upon us." He chuckled. "Hell, some of the elves became Oneians while we were there. It was considered quite the coup to have a firstborn ask you about becoming one with the One."

"When we came back, it was pretty interesting." Tammer said. "But we found we didn't share quite the same values as the other huntsmen anymore. Money meant less; order and ecology meant more. Being among the elves for a long time changed us, all of us." He thought a moment. "We were all forty the best of the best huntsmen, too, using elven hunting tricks and archery techniques. Naturally, we were the men who aspiring apprentices came to more and we eventually came to be the ones who trained all but a handful of the current generation, either us or one of our students."

Harlen nodded. "That's why Hyandai said we Morrovale huntsmen were somewhat, in manner, to rangers from the Windy Isles." He said.

A sardonic look came over Tammers lined face. "We once were, maybe. Today, we're just huntsmen, once again." He said. "Perhaps better than many in the Realms, but still huntsmen."

There was a long pause as Harlen and Tammer both ran through their minds, both looking into space rather indistinctly.

"Drink?" Tammer finally asked, breaking their joint reverie.

Harlen shook his head. "No, I think I've had enough for now." He said.

Tammer smiled. "Good." He said. "I'm almost out of Coghlandish rum anyway. I guess Wendy got you straightened out, then?"

A moment of blank staring met Tammer's eyes, then Harlen reanimated. "Oh, Yeah!" He said. "She talked me out of drinking last night, mostly by making sure I kept flapping my jaw all night."

"She's a grown woman, Harlen." Tammer said gently. "You don't have to play semantic games with me. If you two like each other, then I am well pleased. She could choose somewhat worse in these parts." He sat a glass of grape juice before Harlen. "And I know of elves and their tendencies. Again, she is a grown woman." He winked and headed down the bar to tend to other patrons as Harlen sipped the tart grape juice.

Harlen again had to mull matters over, and sipped slowly. People came up to him, mostly other huntsmen and spoke to him briefly, mainly offering sympathy for his separation from Hyandai, others just to gossip of matters important only to huntsmen. He noted that Maegan was present, sitting with a couple of men from her company. They were drinking lightly, but engaged in a spirited game of pig's knuckles on their little table. Harlen chose to leave them be.

Finishing his drink, he left a penny on the bar and headed out, nodding to a busy Tammer as he went.

His house was mostly dark as he entered, as it usually was after Trevir had gone abed in his little room out back. He carried the single candle that had been left burning in the entry foyer up to his room with him, not wishing for the stark light of the orb.

He felt a twinge of alarm as he entered his room, and there was a very faint scent of cinnamon. The room was cold, and he saw a window ajar.

"I grow weary of uninvited elves in my home." Harlen grumbled, sliding his sword out of its sheath.

The large chair was facing away from him, and Harlen was sure someone was in it. There was no movement, though. He walked around the chair, giving it wide berth. To his amaze, when the features came into view, it was Ceriandel, Hyandai's brother.

He was injured.

"Ceriandel?" Harlen asked as the elf grimaced at him.

"I have come to collect you." The elf said, gritting his teeth and holding a hand over his ribs under his arm. "Hyandai is lovesick, and grows weaker by the day."

Harlen gaped at him. "What?" He asked, sheathing his blade and kneeling before Ceriandel. "What happened to you?"

"I ran into some of the traitors on my way here." He chuckled bitterly. "They thought I was going for help from Morrovale, as if you would give any after these fifty years. I managed to elude them after they shot me."

Ceriandel uncovered his ribs, an arrow shaft poked out, he had snapped the longest part of it off, but the head was still buried between his ribs, blood was covering his tunic around the wound.

"You need a healer." Harlen said, looking at the wound. "I cannot repair such an injury."

The elf chuckled again; there was wetness in the sound of his harsh breath. "What I need is for my sister to be well." He said, locking his silvern eyes upon Harlen. "If that means getting you to her, then so be it." Ceriandel started to rise from the chair, but fell back. "Or perhaps I will sit here and die."

Harlen opened the back window of the room and yelled for Trevir. Two calls brought the lad's blonde head out of his own window.

"Fetch Father Tegmar with all haste!" Harlen yelled at the lad, who immediately pulled his head back in and was out his door and running around the house in mere seconds.

"A healer is coming." Harlen said, patting Ceriandel's shoulder. "Tell me more."

Ceriandel looked up at him. "She was fine for a few days, and very involved in her duties as the strategist for the village." He coughed. "Then she started taking ill, and crying for you. She still does her needed job, but is now quite ill, she cannot keep food down, and she is a disaster, emotionally." He smiled another bitter smile. "She refuses to see a healer. We're already getting injured people in from outlying places and she says they need help more than she." He had a very upset look in his eyes. "She has lost weight, and she grows weaker daily."

Harlen's hands were shaking as he found some clean cloth to press to Ceriandel's wound. "She refuses to see a healer?" Harlen asked.

Ceriandel nodded. "Absolutely. She flew into a rage when I brought one to her chambers." He said. "As I said, she is very unpredictable."

It was almost fifteen minutes before Father Tegmar arrived, under tow by Trevir. As he came into the room he sighed. 

"You have a knack for providing me with injured elves." He said with a smile. "At least this one still breathes."

Ceriandel got a very inquisitive look on his face and raised an eyebrow at Harlen. The huntsman simply shrugged.

The priest examined the wound. "Easily enough repaired, once the arrow is removed." He declared. "Would you like me to do it?" He solicitously asked the elven blade dancer.

It was a moment before Ceriandel answered. "Yes." He finally said, having weighed the options. "If you are certain you can mend the wound."

Tegmar chuckled. "Of course, I can, unless you be unholy." He said. "Which I sincerely doubt." He put one hand upon the shaft, wrapping his fingers with the clean cloth. He gripped the arrow firmly with his fingers and thumb.

"Harlen, please hold his arms." Tegmar said. "This will hurt mightily."

Ceriandel suffered Harlen bear hugging his arms to his side, though slightly modified by the odd angle his right arm had to lie due to the arrow's location. "I shall likely be loud." Ceriandel said, with wry humor. "Think little of it."

With a grunt, Tegmar yanked the arrow free. The head was barbed and tore more skin on the way out. Blood flew in a fan hitting the wall and floor.

True to his word, Ceriandel yelled loudly; a pained exclamation of agony and forewarned shock. When Harlen let his arms go, he was sweating profusely and shaking. His skin was clammy to the touch.

"I must heal him now, else he may die of shock." Father Tegmar said.

The priest grabbed his holy symbol that was lying upon his breast and clasped it in his hand.

Harlen had seen this little miracle before, but it still amazed him as Tegmar called upon the power of the One, through the blessed Saint Uriens. His hand glowed, as it had before, but not nearly so brightly as it had with Hyandai's mortal wound.

As before the wound simply ceased to be. It did not mend or reverse, it just wasn't any more. There was a hole in Ceriandel's tunic, and blood on skin and cloth, but no wound of any kind to be found.

Ceriandel looked appraisingly at his healed side, quickly recovering from the impending shock he had been falling into. 

"I've never been healed thusly." He said, eyeing the priest. "Very interesting sensation."

Harlen smiled at the blade dancer. "Tegmar is an excellent shepherd for the flock of Morrovale." He said. 

Father Tegmar grinned back. "A shepherd who is becoming used to being dragged out of his home in the wee hours to tend to people whom Harlen comes across injured." He said. "But it appears to me that this was an elven arrowhead." He looked at the bloody stub of an arrow lying on the cloth. Is it becoming common for elves to attack one another these days?"

Ceriandel stood up. "It would seem so, Father Tegmar." He said. "But that is an aberration we hope to stop soon."

After a few more questions and semi-answers, Father Tegmar took his leave. Harlen looked down at Trevir.

"Sorry, Trevir, but Ceriandel and I have matters to discuss." Harlen said.

Trevir looked disappointed, but left quietly, and went back out the back door.

"How do you propose to get me to her?" Harlen asked. "Aren't there enemies in the wood, as your state upon arrival points to?"

Ceriandel looked at his bloodied tunic. "There are, but they are few now, I was simply unlucky." He said. "They have amassed their forces in preparation of attack."

"So the war has not started?" Harlen asked.

"Mercifully, no." The elf replied. "They were waiting on more of their number to form. It seems they wish for a quick and decisive victory. The better to send a message to the throne that they say the times are changing. I fear when the hammer falls, it will smash Embalis flat."

"How many?" Harlen asked.

Ceriandel thought a moment. "Seven hundreds, at least, maybe eight."

"And in Embalis?" Harlen continued.

A long moment passed. "Four hundreds." Ceriandel finally said. "Including the populace that is of age to fight."

Harlen nodded. "I know little of magical effects on fighting." He said. "But those do not seem good odds."

Ceriandel. "Magic or no, they have mages and we have mages, that will balance, more or less." Ceriandel said. "We have more archers, they have better assault capabilities." He looked at his hands for a moment. "Many of the ehladrim went to their side."

"Cavalry?" Harlen asked. "Do they have much?"

"No." Ceriandel said. "The cavalry has stayed loyal. They are more thoroughly trained than the line soldiery. But they are only forty strong."

Harlen was leading Ceriandel down the stairs to his workroom, and began packing his things. "I have thought much of your town's defenses, such as they are." Harlen said. "I assume you have been bolstering them?"

The elf nodded. "Hyandai, as the Warleader, has been ordering palisades constructed in weak spots and such." He said. "I do not rightly understand matters of massed warfare." Ceriandel admitted.

Harlen soon had himself packed and slung his bow and three quivers of arrows over his shoulder. 

He looked at the elf. "Are you fit to travel now?"

Ceriandel nodded. "If it means beginning the trek back, yes." He said. "I will have been missed, and perhaps thought miscreant, or cowardly."

They both went out the front door. "I will collect my horse from the stable in town, I had not the facilities or knowledge to care for such a fine beast on my small bit of land." Harlen explained as Ceriandel mounted a large elven horse.

A nod was his answer. They walked past the gate then to the stable across from the Pierced Boar. Harlen managed to rouse the lad who slept there for latecomers to the stable. Within minutes, N'umessa was brought forth with tack and saddle upon him.

Ceriandel chuckled. "N'umessa?" He asked. "An interesting choice of names."

Harlen smiled at him as he mounted the beast. "He wouldn't tell me, so perhaps it is true."

"I could believe that." Ceriandel said.

They both sat for just a moment, then Harlen clucked at the horse beneath him and he began a trot toward the south gate. Ceriandel followed behind.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 19



Harlen could scarcely remember being so tired. The horses, even as powerful and hardy as they were, now dragged their feet along the mossy soil of the wood. The sun had risen several hours before, as they forded the river separating Windir from the duchy. Without the enhancing magics that the cavalrymen had been using, the trip was very long, indeed.

Several times, Harlen had watched Ceriandel nearly slump forward in his saddle, only to snap his eyes open and sit back upright.

"We must rest a short while." Harlen finally said as Ceriandel once again levered himself upright in the saddle. "It will serve no purpose for us to make a grave mistake due to exhaustion."

The elf nodded agreement, and brought his horse to a stop near a thick patch of shrub. The stunted trees were easily high enough to hide within, and mercifully hollow inside their leafy shroud. The pair guided their horses into the canopy and then laid upon the saddle blankets.

With only a very few words exchanged between the two men, they cast themselves into sleep.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Hyandai watched the companies of Isolationists march out of the wood and take up positions across the valley from Embalis. The guards upon the wall watched, too, nervously. It was a sizable force, already larger than their own, and the scouts said that more were on the way before they retreated, themselves, behind the village's defenses. The last of the moving forces would be here by tomorrow night.

Embalis was besieged.

Truth be told she was not at all sure she could do this. Lead an army into battle and order people to their deaths. Her hands shook and her stomach turned over painfully as she clutched the railing of the catwalk. The sun was low in the sky, and still no help came. None had been promised. The Ghantian offensive was sapping all the forces that the small nation could spare and this little skirmish along their northern frontier would have to wait.

"They shall send reinforcements." She said in a low, almost male voice. "About six months after we are all dead."

Her personal aide, Ealina, looked at her. "Lady Hyandai?" She asked.

"Sorry, I was simply thinking out loud." Hyandai said, turning to the lovely elven girl. 

She was several years younger than Hyandai, and not even close to being of age. The girl blinked down at the massing army.

"Lady, do you foresee defeat? Or victory?" Ealina asked, her silver eyes wide and worried.

Hyandai gave out a long sigh. "I foresee death for many." She said. "But I cannot foretell of who will emerge victorious."

Ealina smiled gently. "We will be victorious." She said, with a small amount of self-assuredness. "We are on the side of right."

"I wish I were so certain that correctness granted victory." Hyandai said quietly. "But it does not seem to be so." She turned and walked back into the small room she had turned into her command post.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ceriandel awoke first, the sound of nearby footsteps rousing him from his fitful slumber. He peered out of their concealment to see one of the scouts of the village, injured but still afoot. He was moving away from Embalis, though. The young scout's eyes were haunted, like those of a panicked animal.

It grieved Ceriandel to see a fellow elf, or any intelligent being look thus. He hailed the elf, holding out a peaceful hand.

"Scout of Embalis." He said. "Come and rest, we are friends."

The scout started at the sound of his voice and spun about, flashing out his hyandai. "Who is there?" The scout demanded. The look of panic was now a flashing hostility, worry, yes, but more determination and anger. Ceriandel was glad to see it.

"I am Ceriandel of clan Yavanhaur." He said. "And we are allied, lest you be serving the traitors."

Harlen had awoken to the speech, unused as he was to elven words that they demanded attention.

"I serve no traitors." The elf said. "I am Mathalas. I was sent forth to scout this way, but when I tried to return, I found my way filled with foes."

Ceriandel nodded. "Come, rest and be comforted." he said.

The elf nodded, deciding he had little to lose at this point. He sheathed his weapon and slid through the branches of the shrubby tree and started at the sight of Harlen, standing and stretching in the dimness.

"A human?" Mathalas asked. "I had heard they sent him away."

Ceriandel chuckled. "They did." He confirmed. "I am bringing him back."

Harlen said. "Well met Mathalas." He had overheard them outside and gleaned the scout's name.

The elf executed one of the quick head-bows, then stood again, a wicked grin crossing his rather roguish face. "The leadership will be sorely put off that you have brought this man back." Mathalas said to Ceriandel.

"They will have to cope." Said Ceriandel. "He is the Warleader's betrothed, and from what I know, the Warleader out ranks the Lord and Lady of a town during time of conflict."

The scout nodded. "A technicality that may save your title." He said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "But they have other ways of making one regret crossing them."

"They can do their worst." The blade dancer said. "I welcome it, so long as my sister is happy and we have victory through her leadership."

Harlen held out a large loaf of bread to the two elves, and a jar of plum preserves. The scout ate heartily, being quite famished after several days in the wood. Ceriandel more picked at his portion, thinking hard between bites.

"That worries me most of all." Harlen said, watching Ceriandel eat. "Hyandai always had a, well, a healthy appetite. Yet you say she cannot even keep food down now."

Ceriandel laughed at that. "Diplomatically put, Harlen." He said. "Hyandai eats like a wolf who has starved two weeks." He continued smiling long after his laughter died off. "And, yes, for one such as her, being unable to eat is a sore trial, I deem."

The scout was leaning with his back to the trunk. "Hyandai is a good Warleader." He said. "I met her twice. She knows her mind and heeds not foolish counsel."

Harlen nodded, as did Ceriandel.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Hyandai emerged from the privy, her face flush. Her anger at herself over her lack of fortitude was the main cause, but some of it was her discomfort. She could not keep food down and it annoyed her. Rinsing her mouth with water, she spit over the railing, belatedly checking downward for possible victims of an aquatic bombardment.

Two of the captains patiently awaited her. They had seen her for days now, growing more frail and losing weight. "Lady Hyandai, a heal . . .." He started to say.

"No!" She hissed at him, interrupting the captain and forcing him to take a half-step backward. "No healers. I told you, they have more important matters to tend to. There is a war going on, and they don not have time for some girl who cannot keep her sliced apples down."

She turned toward the model of the village and looked down at it. "You say there are more, even, than we thought?" She asked.

He nodded. "At least two hundreds." He said. "It was sheer luck that one of our scouts happened upon the camp, it was well hidden in a remote vale." He pointed at a map, lacquered to a wooden panel on the wall. "They were encamped here, and would be marching even now, if they wish to be here by tomorrow night."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ceriandel tended to the wounds of the scout dutifully, if not enthusiastically. The elven healing breath was rather personal contact, and most often administered across sexual lines, however, there were no females present, and the chore was a necessary one. 

The three got up and mounted the much refreshed horses. The scout had fetched several bags of water for the beasts and they seemed almost eager to be off now.

Mounted with Harlen alone, and the scout behind Ceriandel, they set off again, angling due south now, so as to come to Embalis from its south side. If they had the north side covered, one would hope that there were not enough of them to place picket all about the town.

It was growing dark, and the scout changed to Harlen's horse. In part this was to save the strength of Ceriandel's beast, and in part to let the scout guide the human's mount in the darkness, where Harlen was nearly blind. The horses were likewise nearly blind, but were trained to trust their rider's guidance in darkness. They slowed to a canter, though, and would not allow themselves to be goaded into greater speed.

They rode into the night, and only stopped for a short break at the banks of a brook as the sky was lightening in the east. Neither friend nor foe did they meet, nor even many animals. The coming war had left a tension in the wood, that even animals could sense. Even Harlen could feel that something of consequence was passing.

"We are well south of Embalis now." Ceriandel said, looking about into the growing light. "It will take most of the day to move back toward the village and come from its due south."

The scout nodded agreement. "From what I saw of their movements, they cannot have formed their regiments near the village until, at earliest, yesterday night. Two of their encampments were still breaking down camp as I sighted them."

Harlen was relieved to hear that. "So they cannot attack before tonight?" He asked.

"Exactly." The scout said. "Armies are not fleet of foot, even elven armies." Mathalas said.

"I do not expect them to tarry long." Said Ceriandel. "They are impatient to get this conflict underway. Once they are assembled, they will attack."

They let the horses rest a couple of hours while they, themselves took a little sleep.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"A thousand?" Hyandai asked, looking at the captain dubiously. "You are certain?"

He nodded. "At least, including the one company that still marches on us."

"Two and a half to one." She murmured. "And their ranks far fuller of trained warriors than ours." She looked at the captain. "Perhaps we should consider retreat."

He shook his head. "Then they would likely catch us without even our hasty defenses." He said. "No, we should either surrender or fight here."

"Surrender." Hyandai said, her face rather morose. "No, I do not think we will be surrendering to those treacherous persons. They tried to kill me in my bed, they will not keep their word if it suits them. I believe they have grown blinded by their zeal to further their goals, forsaking all other things."

"Fanatics are often the worst enemy one can have, they are absolutely convinced of their correctness, and other opinions are moot." The captain said, shaking his head. "I understand there are some entire human cultures of that sort."

Hyandai nodded. "There are." She said. "The Black Theocracy and Costa Roja." She looked at a map of Feldare. "They are quite different and both quite convinced their way is the only right way."

"And now, even our own people fall to the appeal of zealotry." The captain said quietly. "It proves we are not so superior, does it not?"

Hyandai smiled. The captain was a Warwolf, like herself, and his viewpoint only reinforced that. The road to their downfall has and is their rather high opinion of themselves. To believe themselves superior to humanity, because of long span of years, or agility, or even innate magical ability. Foolishness. Humanity was just as valid an expression of the will of the Spirits as elfkind.

Did not man build great empires? Did man not wield mighty magics? Did they not show great generosity of spirit? Hyandai smiled. Elves and man should be brothers, not competitors. To compete with man, or man to compete with elvenkind was foolishness, they had much to offer one another.

"I have to admit, Lady Hyandai." The captain said. "You are an inspiration to those of us who believe as we do." He meant her betrothal to Harlen, a human.

"I did not seek out a human mate, Captain Lemlithis." She said. "I simply did not discount a great man because his ears were round." She giggled at the reference. Most warwolves believed that this was possibly the greatest physical difference between humans and elves. It was sort of a running joke with them.

Lemlithis nodded. "Of course, your heart led you to your choice." He agreed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Harlen awoke to Ceriandel shaking his foot with his own foot. "Let us be going." The blade dancer said. "Else we may be too late."

The three rode hard again that day, driving the horses to a froth. The beasts were beginning to weaken overall, though, as horses cannot be driven for several days straight without long-term hurt.

They had slowed to little better than a walk by middle afternoon, and even that taxed the horses now. The forest slowly crept by them, and they started to fear that they would not arrive even in the night.

At the fall of darkness. They dismounted and started walking the horses, leading them by their bits. It would do them little good to kill the beasts when they may well be needed in the village. They were near now, and Harlen could vaguely make out the smell of smoke.

"Already they fight?" He asked.

The scout shook his head. "Lady Hyandai had ordered many buildings razed to clear what she termed 'free fire zones' for the archers." He said. "The scent you smell is old smoke, from those burnings."

Finally, they saw the first lights of the village, high in the trees overhead and at a distance. They all began to move forward cautiously, watching about themselves for enemy or even village elves who might mistake them for enemy soldiers. They did not wish to be attacked by either side at this point.

They came to a palisade, with a rude gate set into it, and a dozen militia manning it. The elves grew alert as they came near, rising from their positions and regarding them suspiciously.

"Who is there?" Asked one of the militiamen, seemingly their senior officer.

"Ceriandel of clan Yavanhaur, Mathalas the scout, and Harlen of Morrovale." Ceriandel said.

The sight of the human among the three approaching figures caused a bit of a stir, but also confirmed that it was hardly Isolationists before them.

The gate groaned open and they allowed the three to enter. The horses were taken and guided to the stables. Three of the militiamen walked with the three toward the center of the village.

Up a long stair they climbed, high into the branches of the mightiest of the ornthalion trees in the village. This was the Turaorn, the master tree, the eldest and most revered ornthalion of the area.

The three guards led them into a small chamber. "Wait here, someone will come and decide what is to be done with you." Two of the guards stood outside, on the catwalk, and watched the three in the chamber. They knew they could easily overpower the guards, but to what end? So the three simply sat at chairs about a small table in the center of the room.

A few minutes later a young female came into the room. "I am Ealina, aide to Hyandai." She said, as she entered, but stopped speaking as she regarded the seated figures.

"Ehladrim Ceriandel?" She asked, then turned her eyes to Harlen. "And a man of the Westrons?"

She looked at the scout, whom she knew personally. "Mathalas, you will go report to your company, they should be near the northeast palisade." She said.

Mathalas gave the pair a last look and said. "May fate be with you." He said, and went out the door, giving Ealina a quick nodding bow as he passed her.

Ealina looked back at the two militiamen. "You may go." She said. "These men are in my keeping now."

They looked at each other a moment, then nodded and left.

"Unless I am sorely mistaken." Ealina said. "You are Harlen of Morrovale. Lady Hyandai's bethrothed." She looked at Ceriandel. "And you are Ceriandel, who was recently reported missing, or miscreant. The lady's brother."

A small smile crossed her beautiful, angular face. "I see the makings of a conspiracy here." She said. "One to perhaps comfort our Warleader when her health is failing."

Ceriandel smiled. "It might just be so." He said. "But we should see the lady before the village's rulers hear of our arrival."

She turned to him. "I could not shirk my duties so easily." She said. "But I am a busy woman, I might find myself unavoidably detained for a while after I bring you to the Warleader for disposition." She turned toward the door. "Come with me, you are made arrest, keep that in mind."

"Of course." Ceriandel said, grinning as he slid his chair back. 

Harlen stood as well and followed them as they all moved about the catwalk then up several ramps to another catwalk. A faint blue glow emanated from the room, she led them in.

The two saw a slender figure silhouetted against the glowing blue model of the village. Harlen hardly recognized Hyandai in chain armor and girt with a long warsword as well as her hyandai.

"Lady Hyandai." Ealina said. "The south gate brought me two refugees that claim to have valuable tactical information."

"I will see them." Hyandai said, her voice sounded tired and distant. "Have them brought to me."

Ealina smiled at the pair. "Warleader, they are here now."

Hyandai turned slowly, her face showing more weariness than even her voice. "Very well, you ca . . .." She stopped speaking as Harlen and Ceriandel spun into her view.

"Harlen?" She asked, as if doubting that it was really him. A half a heartbeat later she was pressed against him tightly, her chainmail pinching him here and there, but he did not complain. Tears flowed from her eyes like raindrops as she moved her hands again and again for better purchase to cling to him more tightly.

Ceriandel and Ealina stepped across the room to regard the map at a discreet distance from the couple. He began asking her questions of the situation while she showed him the relevant map areas with her fingertip.

"You are not supposed to be here." She said into his chest. "They told you to wait for us to contact you."

"One of you did." He smiled. "Ceriandel came and fetched me." He was nuzzling her fine, silken hair and inhaling deeply her cinnamon scent.

She giggled. "I suppose he told you I was dying?" She said, pulling back at last to look up at him.

Harlen nodded. "Something like that." He confirmed.

She cast an attempt at an annoyed look at her brother. "He exaggerates." She said. "I have been working my mind a bit overmuch these last days, and it is affecting my appetite."

Harlen nodded, touching her neck and shoulder. "And the emotional outbursts?" He inquired.

She shrugged. "The same thing." She said. "I have been reconstructing another person's mind within my own. It is bound to have detrimental effects on me."

Hyandai smiled up at him. "I foresee some of those emotional difficulties being rather absent now you are with me." She said.

"They may try to send me away again." Harlen offered.

"They would not." Hyandai said. "They cannot spare an escort, and to send you alone would be tantamount to a death sentence." She took hold of the sides of his head. "For good or ill, you are here, now, and will be here for the battle, I fear."

She pulled him down to her and kissed him soundly. He did not recall her ever kissing with such strength and urgency. Come to think of it, he didn't remember her ever able to pull him down quite so forcefully either.

"Tales of your weakened state are apparently exaggerated, as well." Harlen said as he came up for air.

Hyandai giggled again. "No." She said. "That is this armor, it grants me some strength. I have grown frail in the last few days, but then again, I've not been sleeping much."

She took his hand and led him to the model of the village. Ceriandel and Ealina regarded them as they approached. 

Ealina could see more color in Hyandai's face already, so deemed her decision the right one. 




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 19



Ceriandel saw his sister smiling, so arrived at the same conclusion.

Harlen was too happy just to be with his beloved, that he hardly could think at all.

"Ealina, I will be in my chambers for an hour." Hyandai said. "Alert me if anything changes."

"Of course, Lady Hyandai." The aide said, smiling.

Hyandai led Harlen across the sloping catwalk to her own room, at least what was serving as her room for now. Upon entering she shut the door. 

"I have missed you greatly." She said, her back pressed to the door.

Harlen smiled, turning to face her. "And I, you, very much." He said, and walked up to her. He kissed her again and she responded warmly, pressing her mail-clad body against him.

"Can we manage with the armor on?" Hyandai asked "If I remove it, I may not be a very active lover." 

Harlen looked at the chainmail, lifting the hem of its steel ringed skirt. "I believe I can work around that, my mailed maiden." He said.

"Good." She said, tugging at his belt, and pulling him toward the small cot. "Then you have been miscreant in your duties to me. If you will note my rather alarmingly ungreen eyes."

Harlen nodded as she sat upon the bed and pulled her boots off. She looked rather different in the armor, he decided, less helpless, more the warrior. She scooted up onto the cot and laid back, watching him intently.

Harlen kicked off his own boots, then took off his pants. "You may wish to leave the shirt on, lest you get pinched." Hyandai said.

He nodded agreement. She giggled at his already swelling organ. "Even in war, there you are." She said. "You are a lust fey's dream come true."

Lowering his head to her ankle, Harlen began to kiss his way up her long, slender leg. She sighed as he passed her knee, and began up her thigh. Her legs moved apart and she felt the chainmail being slid up against her smooth skin, along with its underlying padded layer.

A loud groan escaped her lips as his tongue and lips touched her opening. Her hands gripped the sheets at the intense stimulation and long absence of it. "It has been too long." Hyandai said. "Fifty-nine years of nothing, and now two weeks is too long."

Harlen chuckled as he continued lapping at her clitoris and sliding his tongue into her. She began to wriggle about, causing the mail to clink and squeak oddly.

"We go to war tonight, very likely, and yet, I only wish to have you inside me." Hyandai said.

Harlen nodded and rose up from her middle. "It seems logical to me." He said.

She smiled as he moved up her body, but missed his kisses on her torso that he would have laid down had her chainmail not been present. She moved her long legs outward to accommodate his large frame and felt his cock pressing against her opening.

A tiny sense of dread was quickly overwhelmed by a greater sense of anticipation and desire. "Take me roughly." She said. "I need to feel everything."

Harlen smiled and kissed her lips. "Very well." He said.

His thick cock opened her entry then he halted for a moment, gathering himself. The next moment, he was fully within her and her breath was releasing in a loud cry of pain and joy. He began feeding into her the two weeks of loneliness and fear and frustration. His organ pistoning into her repeatedly, spreading her entry wide and burying itself to the base in her tight cunt.

Soon all the pained sounds left her cries, and were replaced by only pleasure. Her body had not forgotten her lover, it simply desired a object reminder of him. Her face softened as the pleasure built up.

"I feel like myself for the first time in days." She said, then giggled. "Now if only I could eat while you do that."

Harlen smiled broadly. "I would not complain if you did so." He said. "Should I fetch something?"

Hyandai wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him to her. "I think you better stay." She said, her breathing growing more labored. "There is an event scheduled for you to attend." This last came out rather slurred and almost as a single word.

A similar feeling was creeping into Harlen's loins as she felt his impending climax build. His back and sides burned from the force he was pouring into taking Hyandai this time, and she was responding by accepting every thrust fully, allowing him to batter his way into her small body.

She cried out again, this time more loudly, and for a long moment. Her scream held a note for several heartbeats, then died down, moving through the tones of her range until she was silent again.

He could feel her opening contract around his shaft, tightening and then loosening. Her own thrusts had ceased as she climaxed. Now they began again, with renewed vigor. 

"Time for your release, beloved." She said. Staring at him with emerald eyes.

Her voice had lost all traces of the masculine edge he had noted. This was all Hyandai now. Or perhaps Hyandai plus fey, but there was no more man there. This relieved Harlen quite a lot.

The enthusiastic assistance she loaned to the effort paid off quickly, as he grunted and his orgasm gripped him. Plunging into her a last few strokes, he fell over that precipice and his cock twitched with each jet of warm semen he spent into her.

She continued grinding her pelvis against his swollen cock for several moments, she was encouraging him to keep feeding every drop of his seed into her. Her hands were moving over his cheeks, chin, and neck.

"Beloved, I never wish to be apart from you again." She said. "It was too painful, and this too pleasurable." Her voice was tired and gaspy.

Harlen slid back and his organ slipped from her tight opening, hanging flaccidly from him as he sat back onto his haunches, still between her legs.

"Never more than necessary." Harlen said. 

He crawled up beside her and laid at her side. She tried to curl up against him, but the limited mobility offered by the armor prevented a truly satisfying cuddle. 

She got a rather upset look to her face. "I regret, lover, that we will not be allowed to stay in this comfort for long." She said.

A few minutes passed, then a few more. And he simply held her curled form. She may have even dozed off for a few minutes, but soon was awake.

"We need to finish preparations." She said. Her voice once again tinged with some man's tones. "This was more than a welcome thing, beloved, but we can ill afford more." Hyandai sat up and drew on her boots. Harlen did the same, crawling out of the bed to slide his pants on. A few minutes later, they were back in the command room.

Ealina stifled a giggle as they entered. Ceriandel did his level best to ignore Hyandai's suddenly very green eyes. He was her brother after all, and very likely, no man, or even elf would be thought a worthy partner for his beloved sister.

"Back to the matters of import." Hyandai said, squeezing Harlen's hand gently. She looked down at the model. "What think you of the defenses?" She asked all around her.

A moment passed as Harlen and Ceriandel blinked, but they both started moving after that moment. Harlen crouched low over the illusory buildings and trees, and miniature people, moving about. It was an exquisite projection of the village, and he knew that if he looked hard enough, he would see himself looking down at a smaller model of the model.

"You have fortified well, for what you had to work with." Harlen said, eyeing the palisades and trenches before them. North of the village on the map, there were many milling figures, three hundred yards or so north, if the scale was accurate. "The enemy?" He asked.

Ceriandel nodded. "I know little of massed battle, but I know defenders usually have the advantage." He said. "The enemy will, even now, be relying upon their superior troops to win the contest.

Ealina shook her head. "It is all very foreign to me, lady." The young elf said. "This is why we defer to your judgement in this matter."

Hyandai nodded. "Yes, some have been here a day and a half, others have arrived through the day." She said.

"Why do they not attack now?" Ceriandel asked.

Pointing with one finger at a glowing nebulous shape at the edge of the model's extents, Hyandai said. "They await one last company." She said. "They are coming from that direction, the north west. They march even now, and will arrive just after midnight, lest they stop."

"A large company?" Ceriandel asked.

Hyandai shrugged. "Large enough, nearly two hundreds more." She looked at him. "Scouts only espied their camp two days ago, just before they all were recalled and no more went out."

Ceriandel gasped. "Nine hundreds then?" He asked.

She shook her head. "No. A thousand." She said, pointing to a knot of troops south west of the village. "Those are also theirs. I assume they intend them to prevent any escape."

"Harlen, I apologize." Ceriandel said. "I may have brought you here to die."

Harlen squeezed Hyandai's hand. "I would rather die beside you than live without you, as trite as that sounds."

"It does not sound trite in your voice." Ceriandel said, turning to Hyandai. "Give me thirty men and I will neutralize that southern unit as soon as the battle commences. The cavalry, they will not be needed defending the wall."

Hyandai nodded. "That may well be a good idea." Her voice subtly changed. "An attack would be the last thing they would expect from a besieged village. Ealina get him those cavalrymen." Ealina and Ceriandel left the chamber.

"Come Harlen." Hyandai said, her voice still rather oddly different from normal. "You should be kitted for combat. She led him down a few ramps, passing other elves who stared after them for a moment but then moved on, busy with their own chores. They came to a heavy door, Hyandai rapped her knuckles upon it.

A few moments later, an elderly elf, the first Harlen had seen who actually looked old, opened the door. "Athelan, this is my betrothed, Harlen." Hyandai said. "He needs gear for this battle, have you any for one of his stature?"

The elderly elf looked at him askance. "A big one, is he not?" He asked, chuckling and beckoning Harlen in after him. "Come, Harlen, we shall see what the armory holds."

They followed him down several rows of shelves, stacked with various armor and weapon pieces, sections, and entire sets.

Finally, he stopped before a small barrel sitting on a shelf. "This was found on a Dark Templar several years ago, that several of our rangers brought down." He said, pulling the lid off the barrel. He dumped the contents on the floor. It was a suit of chainmail, he lifted it from the mixture of sand and oil with which it had been stored. "It should fit your big man well enough." He chuckled, lifting it with effort and handing it over to Hyandai. Her arm sagged under the immense weight as she turned and gave it over to Harlen.

She handed Harlen the armor. "We can cut you a saddle blanket for padding, you are a horse anyways, eh?" The old elf smiled at him. "Its good armor, lad, the rangers killed him with a headshot."

"Very comforting." Harlen said, with a wry smile. "I'll remember to keep my head down."

"You have a sword, I see." Athelan said. "Perhaps a dagger?" He lifted a long-bladed dagger from a shelf. "For your off hand. You carry a bow, so I assume a shield is not your desire."

Harlen nodded and belted the dagger's sheath to his sword belt. Two young elves had arrived and were slinging the chainmail against a low wooden wall, knocking the sand and oil mixture off of it where it collected in a basin at the base.

In truth, a saddle blanket was found and a hole cut through for his head, and then it was trimmed to fit to his sides. The chainmail was cast over all, and he was girt with his sword and the dagger, his bow and two quivers of his own arrows. He walked out onto the catwalk to Hyandai's regard as she turned from another aide who had born her a report.

She smiled broadly upon sighting him. "You look verily the hero now, Harlen of Morrovale." She said, walking up to him, her own armor shimmering like liquid metal over her body. Harlen chuckled as she hugged herself to him and he embraced her. "It makes you even huger." She giggled, grasping her wrist behind his back. "I can barely get my arms around you with this gear on."

He picked her up and kissed her, lifting her off the floor of the catwalk. "I can still reach around you, my lover." He said. They kissed this way for a long moment, before an aide coughed an interruption. Harlen gently sat Hyandai back upon the ground and moved back a few paces.

She turned to him. "Word has finally gotten to the lord and lady." Hyandai said. "They wish to speak with us, now." She looked rather worried, but more annoyed than that. "Like we have time for this." She grumbled, again in the oddly different voice.

They walked down the long stair then across to the throne building. The curtains were still fluttering in the night air, and the temperature was dropping rapidly, Harlen noted as his breath became visible before him. A cold, blustery night, perfect for a battle. He thought. Just needs to rain.

As they walked across the polished floor, the room only dimly lit by a few torches on the columns, the air of impatience grew in Hyandai's very footstep, and Harlen began to need to nearly jog to keep pace with her.

He looked at her face, and saw a set jaw, and eyes turned deepening green with suppressed anger.

They approached the two thrones, only two advisors stood by them, one near to each. Hyandai began her tirade even before reaching them. "I know that he was not supposed to be here." She said. "But, he is here, and it is too late to send him away again. If you wish to haul me before a trial and try me for disobedience or him for trespass, then do so, after the battle." Her voice once again had the undertones he had detected before, masculine and very strong-minded.

The two nobles blinked a moment. "Lady Hyandai." Said the lord, Ircandann. "If you would but still your tongue a moment."

She stopped talking, and even stopped preparing to talk, and just stood there.

"We were mistaken to send your betrothed away." Ircandann said. "It simply caused you distress for little gain. Such treatment was not always our way, but I suppose the little thoughts spread by the traitors have infiltrated even our own very minds. We doubted the possible loyalty of a human, when arguing that we should ally with them in the same sentence. Such dichotomy would not serve as policy." 

Ircandann nodded toward Harlen. "You are not only welcome to stay, Master Harlen, but we are grateful for your strong arm in our hour of need." He appraised the armor-clad huntsman. "The armor of war looks suited to your use." He said, smiling.

Harlen nodded. "I suppose humans are made for war." He said. "Or at least made capable of it."

"Please forgive our misgivings, we will not let such doubts cloud our judgement in the future." Lady Melewen said, her silvern eyes bright in the dim room. "Go, make your preparations, and we will make ours. We will meet you upon the northern tower."

Hyandai bowed as low as the armor would allow, and Harlen did likewise. 

"What shall I do?" Harlen asked. "You are to be commanding from the tower, and they will be with you, but me?"

Hyandai smiled at him. "You are my personal bodyguard." She said. "Though I daresay being beside me may not be the safest of places in the battle." She looked over the palisades as they mounted the steps up a sturdy wooden tower. "The traitors will wish me dead, knowing I am the source of tactical guidance for the villagers."

"What of the Ehladrel?" Harlen asked. "Who wields it?"

She looked back toward the throne room. "It is there, awaiting our last desperation." She said. "We dare not let it fall into their hands, therefore we can only use it at direst need."

Harlen shook his head. "A weapon so powerful that you cannot afford to field it." She said. "A dubious usefulness."

He peered out into the darkness beyond the palisade. He could barely make out moving shapes in the deep gloom there. The enemy had chosen well, if humans were to be aiding the villagers, it was a moonless night, and the stars provided scant light through the remaining canopy over the village. A man would be virtually blind in that dark.

Harlen took out his spyglass and looked upon the enemy ranks, there were indeed hundreds of them, many hundreds. They all wore light gray cloaks, nearly dragging the ground with their hems, with deep hoods that shadowed farther their faces. They looked almost as wraiths in the darkness, the wind fluttering their long, loose garments in the night. The glint of starlight on polished steel was quite evident, though, and the spears and swords looked almost like a dense bramble of glinting metal.

Long moments passed as aides and captains came to Hyandai to give word of the enemies disposition and to ask for commands in response to those movements. She soon had the palisades as manned as maybe. The walls were topped with narrow scaffolds, upon which stood archers, two hundreds of them, along with a elf with a spear and shield every third person. Another half a hundred were at the base of the wall, ready to ferry off wounded and bring fresh arrows at need to those on the wall.

There were no reserves.

Soon, word was brought that the last regiment of the enemy were moving up from the left flank. Two hundred strong, as they had been told. Hyandai sighed. "This is going to be a bloodbath, is it not?" She asked Harlen.

Harlen nodded. "I fear it will be so, my love." He said.

The defenses erected in the last few days seemed now woefully inadequate. And the militia pitifully undertrained. Hyandai was certain this was her last night in Feldare. She had spoken to the spirits and tried to heed their advice. Now it was come, the last moment.

Lord Ircandann climbed up to the small command tower and greeted them. He was now wearing chainmail, similar to Hyandai's, but more ornate and finely-crafted. Lady Melewen followed him, also clad in armor, but of overlapping scales on a leather backing. Hers had been enameled red, so that she looked to be wearing a dragon's hide upon her body, a broad-bladed sword was on her slender hip.

Hyandai caught the direction of his gaze and whispered. "She is of a warrior clan, they are all very skilled, and all wear such armor, see?" She pointed to the wall, and here and there, among the others in leather and chain, were such scale-clad warriors, bright red against the natural browns of the palisades and grays of the other warriors' armors.

There was now a deathly silence, as people checked their straps and tightened belts. Swords were loosened in sheathes, and bow strings were checked for frays. Some of the archers were arraying their arrows before them on the wall, ready for fast reloading. A few had their heads bowed in what Harlen realized was Oneian prayer.

He decided to do the same. Prayer seemed a good idea at this moment. He lowered himself to the floor, upon his knees and bowed his head. Inside his mind, he thought of his life and his friends and family. He thought of Hyandai most of all. 

An image in his mind flashed of Saint Teargan, the patron of soldiers. He asked Teargan for his help this night. Another flash brought Saing Emoilin, an elven saint, and patron to other elves in need. He had been a blade dancer, and a Oneian, his great works throughout Feldare were still legend. Harlen asked him to help, too. Perhaps between the two of them, there would be the power needed this night to stop the enemy.

Harlen felt Hyandai's cool hand on his neck, and could almost feel her trying to pray, as well. He reached back and touched the slender fingers. 

There was odd movement out in the darkness, and he stood as he dug out his spyglass. Waving it over the dark masses of troops out there, he finally found the source. It was the final regiment, moving into place aside the others. They moved swiftly, and silently, forming up into four ranks fifty men wide.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 19



A single elf walked from the main body of the army and headed toward the regiment, and one elf separated from the regiment and came to meet him. Harlen watched as the small figure from the new company clutched her cloak to her neck as she spoke to the other, the chilling wind whipping the thin cloth. The shape of her body gave away her sex. They spoke for a few moments, then separated and headed back to their regiments.

As the female returned to her regiment, he caught a flash of a glow in her hand as she brought it down from her neck. Harlen blinked as he looked again. She walked up to another elf, and handed it something, something that glowed with a pale green light. He seemed to slip it into his cloak and the light was snuffed. 

He looked over the long ranks of the new regiment, just like the others, but more possessed of bows. These were their archers, Harlen decided, and the reason for their positioning off to the side, opposite another archer-heavy company. They needed a clear field of fire at the walls. They, too wore the cloaks of light gray, their hems just below the knee, like a poncho. The wind caught these garments, and caused the entire company to flutter, their forms ghostly in the dark distance.

The sound even reached their own ears, and it was like a sigh from a grave, the soft rustling of the cloth disquieted the host protecting the town, and many hands shook around their weapons.

Again, the world stopped. It was like Feldare were taking a deep breath before plunging into a flowing river of lava. There would be death this night, and there would be glory, but most of all there would be anger and fear, in equal measures.

A voice cried out in the darkness. And a group of four horsemen detached from the main mass of the traitor army. The rode forth toward the wall.

"A parley?" Harlen asked.

Hyandai nodded. "It would seem." She said. "Perhaps they realize that their surrender is their only hope." She smiled at Harlen over her rather morbid humor.

The two nobles, Hyandai and Harlen descended the stairs from the platform and crossed the open space toward the gate. The gate was opened and the horsemen dismounted and walked under the heavy oaken beams that crossed over the two doors of the entrance.

The apparent leader of the enemy was a large elf, with broad shoulders and a long mane of white hair, bound in a pony tail. He stepped forward from his three companions.

"Captain Cendiolor." Hyandai whispered to Harlen, naming the elf before them. "He used to captain our own guard." Harlen recalled the conversation on the watch platform many days ago.

He walked up to within two paces of Hyandai and gave her a curt head bow. "Lady Hyandai." He said, formally.

"Captain Cendiolor." She replied. Her tone icy and dripping venom. "This army of traitors is at your command?"

He nodded. "They are mine to command, but it is you who betray your people." He said. "You would thwart the will of the majority? Are you so desirous of your human mate?"

She shook her head. "You may have numbers here, but these rabble," Hyandai said, waving her hand to encompass the mass of troops looming in the darkness, "are drawn from all over the land of Windir, and represent a tiny minority in each community, malcontents." She barked a disdainful laugh. "To claim majority because you outnumber a small village is the height of fallacy."

He laughed bitterly. "If you so think." He said. "I see you did find human assistance, after all." He said, eyeing Harlen critically. "Or is this that man you have been breeding with?" His silvern eyes turned to Hyandai's green as he spoke.

She scowled at Cendiolor. "My personal life is none of your concern, traitor." She said through clenched teeth. "I am proud of my betrothal, and my betrothed."

"Well, if you could not find better." He said dismissively. "I suppose he is adequate, and perhaps more than, in certain areas in which I hear humans are quite well endowed." He looked down at her. "It must be a burden to be backed into a corner by your own face."

She seethed at him. "Did you come to parley or simply to insult me?" She said. "For if the latter, I have had my fill and may break the rules of engagement simply to teach you a lesson in civility."

Cendiolor chuckled. "I have come to offer you a chance to surrender." He said. "Now, I will not be so heartless as to make it unconditional. You may all leave, simply walk away and none will molest you." He looked over the palisades. "It is the best you can hope for." He added. He turned back to look between Hyandai and the two nobles, and did his level best to ignore the human who loomed over the entire conversation.

"It may help you to come to a decision to know that your rangers from the Windy Isles were dealt with." He grinned maliciously. "Seems our tardy company there came across their company north of the village." He shook his head. "Sad, really, allying yourself with people who cannot even find a village. They said they encountered them north away." His hand pointed northward. "Really, you should find better folk to associate with." He concluded, shaking his head mournfully.

Harlen and Hyandai managed to keep blank faces during this last bit of monologue. The lord and lady actually looked crestfallen. Had Hyandai withheld the fact that the Windy Islanders were a rumor, manufactured by her own mind? He supposed she had.

"I see." Cendiolor said, noting the expressions on the two nobles with gleeful eyes. "You had much hope placed in them." He gloated. "They will now not be coming to your succor. Rest assured, however, their rotting corpses will nurture the soil well. Thus Windir grows stronger." He said, his eyes flashing with a malice not common to elvenkind.

What is his fey? Harlen wondered to himself as he regarded the tall, wide-shouldered elf. Cendiolor was, like most all elves very attractive, even beautiful, but the current attitude and cruelty he was displaying made mockery of that beauty and turned his elegant countenance arrogant.

"I wish not to treat with you, traitor, to your posting and your people." Hyandai said. "This parley is over, go back to your army of cuthroats and brigands." She spun on her heel and stormed off toward the command tower.

"Man of Morrovale." Cendiolor said. "Is a bit of elven tail worth dying for?" He asked. "I really would like to know."

Harlen stepped forward, causing Cendiolor's escort to reach for their swords until the former captain held up his hand, and stared evenly at the much taller man.

"You're about to die for much less, silver eyes." Harlen growled down at the elf. He was larger than almost all elves, Captain Cendiolor was, but compared to Harlen, he felt suddenly very small, and vulnerable. "Go back to your lines, and prepare to face me, you pathetic, weak thing. I will carve a path to you through the bodies of your traitorous thugs. Then I will kill you."

The man's hand upon the hilt of the massive broadsword made Cendiolor nervous, he looked down at it. It was a large, powerful hand, and the knuckles showed white. How much force was needed to snap an elf's neck? Could those hands muster such strength? Very likely.

Cendiolor swallowed then gave a half-hearted grin. "Human, even your pitifully short life will end early." He said. "And much is the shame. To deny poor homely Hyandai her massive organ for a while, before she too dies, of lonliness."

Harlen spun about in preparation to walk away, an old trick came to him from his days in the service of the duke. He pushed down on his hilt and lifted the far tip of his sword in doing so. As he turned the sheathed point came around and forced Cendiolor to jump back to avoid being struck in the genitals with the reinforced club. Some jeers fell upon Cendiolor from the ranks of the elves upon the palisades.

The gates began to swing shut as Harlen and the two nobles walked away. Hyandai was already issuing last minute orders to various captains. The parley was forced to retreat as the doors threatened to close upon them.

They mounted their horses and rode back to the main lines of the enemy.

Hyandai started to speak as he and the nobles, and their aides came up the stairs. "What was he talking about, there was n . . .." She stopped speaking at a warning glance from Harlen. He shook his head minutely and she spoke again. "No way on Feldare we were accepting those terms." She concluded the truncated sentence, with a new ending.

A rider came up to the tower and leaped from the saddle, sprinting up the stairs. "Lady Hyandai, the southern force of the enemy is routed, they flee the field!"

She smiled at that. "Very good." Hyandai said. "Their losses?"

The rider thought a moment. "Only five, Warleader. Seemed they expected to be shooting at refugees, not facing a cavalry charge, they had only archers."

Harlen leaned in close to Hyandai's ear and whispered into her ear a moment. Her face broke into a wider smile.

"Bolster them with the remaining cavalry, and order Ceriandel to bring them about to attack the enemies right flank." She leaned close to the rider's ear and whispered. He nodded and took off down the stairs and clambered back onto his horse, riding south through the town.

A few moments later, Harlen heard the cavalry moving around the palisade to the right of them. Before they could have heard, however, the enemy archers began to fall back, and part of the main body of the army move into their place, spearmen to the fore. The cavalry never appeared, however, and simply spun about and retreated back to the south.

Harlen and Hyandai exchanged a quick look and then looked toward the nobles, and their aides.

It was moving now. The enemy forces began to advance. The captains upon the walls called out to the archers, who loaded and readied. Bows creaked in the darkness and one sang out in a ranging shot. It flew out toward the massed troops, falling short by perhaps fifty paces. The elves upon the wall waited for the order to fire.

Harlen noted that the regiment to the left was moving up unevenly, hoping it was a mistake they could exploit, but it seemed simply a confusion on the enemy part, and them being archers, their tight ranks would matter little.

Another ranging shot sang out, landing five paces before the foremost ranks of the army. The army stopped, with much noise of halting feet. This was the last pause, Harlen knew. He had seen it many times before.

He pulled out his spyglass and examined the ranks arrayed before them, now closer and reflecting some of the torchlight from the walls. His view passed over mass after mass of spearmen, swordsmen, and archers, and a tight knot of ehladrim in the center. There were also figures, mixed among them, figures quite active, moving their hands in esoteric and mysterious patterns. Wizards.

He kept looking down the massed ranks, more archers, and still more archers, clutching their smooth, sleek weapons. The left regiment lacked discipline, he saw, and they had stopped with their formation actually almost at a twenty-five degree angle, facing inward toward the main army. He told Hyandai to have the cavalry move around the south side and assault those from the left, they would likely break easily and prevent many deaths if they did so.

He eyed Hyandai's curving bow, with its ornate scrollwork. Then he looked at the wall. There stood the town's archers, with their ornately carven bows.

"Hyandai." Harlen said, his mind racing. "We need the Ehladrel here, now."

She looked at him only a moment before saying. "I agree." She turned to Lord Ircandann. "May I borrow your aides, lord?" She asked.

The elven lord turned from the sight of the massed troops. "Yes, of course." He said, turning to his and the lady's aides. "Rennalath, Centhan, the Lady Hyandai has need of your service."

They both looked at her, awaiting instruction. "I need the both of you to go get the Ehladrel from my chambers." She said.

The two young men nodded and departed at a jog. "Now, beloved, what is going on?" She turned and asked Harlen.

"I believe one of the aides are spying for the traitors." Harlen said. "When I had you feint the cavalry, their forces responded before they could have known the cavalry was coming toward them, the palisades were in the way and they were still too distant to hear."

Hyandai nodded. "And we sent them after the Ehladrel why?" She said.

"Because I need them to not know what I just learned." He replied turning back to the massed forces before the wall.

"And what, my dear, have you learned?" The lord and lady were also very attentive of their conversation. As was obvious, this was war, and their position was subordinate to Hyandai's for the duration, and they knew their place if little else.

"That you elves have been buying Westron longbows." Harlen said, handing her the spyglass and aiming it toward the left flanking archers.

Hyandai. "That is ridiculous, we have no need to bu . . .." She stopped. "Spirits save us!" She exclaimed.

The expressions of confusion upon Lord Ircandann's and Lady Melewen's faces would have to go unanswered for the moment, though, the attack was nigh.

Harlen nodded. Peering over the railing at a small group of combat wizards. "Order one of them to hurl a fireball straight up when the fight begins." He said.

Hyandai leaned over the rail and yelled down. "Yrachas!"

One of the younger wizards looked up and smiled, waving at Hyandai. "Yes, Lady Hyandai?" He said.

"When the fight begins, you are to send a fireball straight upward, an exploding one." She said. "Is that clear?"

He looked at her a long moment. "Well, yes, Warleader." He responded. "It is clear. It will be done, though I know not why."

She nodded. "Good, then prepare yourselves, warlocks, the fight comes to us!" She cried out as the army before the wall set up a loud cry and charged.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"You are certain that is her desire?" Ceriandel asked as the aide, Rennalath nodded.

"Of course, Ehladrim Ceriandel." He said. "She wishes you to leave the horse company, and find ten men to watch the eastern quarter."

The blade dancer nodded. "Very well." he said. Dismounting and gathering up ten nearby militiamen. "You are with me." He said. They followed quietly, but with rather worried eyes. Ehladrim were expected to be in the thick of the fight, and to be beside one was to be there, as well. They were loyal, though, and each privately vowed to do his best.

The shout of battle's beginning could be heard from the north end of the village even where they were now. Ceriandel watched as Rennalath moved off and up the wide stairs up the Turaorn. 



The Solitary Arrow Ch. 20



The battle had commenced.

Powerful spells were loosed by the combat wizards on both sides, throwing both magical attacks and defenses. Great shimmering shields interposed themselves between ranks of troops and incoming arrow volleys. Powerful explosions rent into massed ranks and shredded the palisade wall in places by turns. Through the ensuing smoking roil ran screaming footmen, their spears glinting in the newborn firelight.

Harlen ducked back as a fireball screamed skyward from below the command platform. It trailed blue and white sparks behind it as it accelerated into the air overhead. It reached its zenith and exploded, a great orange-yellow ball of roiling flame. A half a heartbeat later an impressive thud reached the ground.

Scattered folk all over the field of battle glanced up, wondering what this might be. Soon, it was obvious that it had no effect on one side or the other, and eyes turned back to the urgent task of killing one's opponents.

The bowmen upon the left palisade were a touch confused, however. Their opposites on the traitor side did not charge forward to bring themselves into range to fire upon the wall. They paused a short moment before their captain ordered them to turn and fire at the main mass of Isolationist troops.

It was a few moments later that Cendiolor noted the lack of movement to his right and cast his sight that way. "What are those idiots waiting for?" He yelled to his lieutenant.

Just then, suddenly, there were three great muffled whumps from the ranks of the unmoving archers. Three white columns of fire lanced into the heavens over the battle. As eyes tracked the movement upward, again wondering what was afoot, the three columns stopped and were replaced by a trio of suns.

Two seconds later, Cendiolor yelled at his lieutenant. "Find out what those fools are doing!" There was no answer. He turned to see arrows raining down on his massed troops from their right. His lieutenant was pierced several times and lay dying upon the earth.

Screaming a curse, he wheeled his horse about as the second volley of arrow fire fell amid the massed formation and around the wall-like force barriers the wizards had constructed. 

"Turn about!" He screamed to his captains. "We are flanked!"

The elven forces were quick-witted compared to human troops, but they still wheeled slowly. Cendiolor winced as he watched the foremost ranks of the right-side company detach themselves from the main body and charge into the flank of his main mass. Swords appeared in the hands of the archers, who rightly would only carry hyandai, typically. As the foremost of these attackers smashed into the side of the formation, he noted a disparity of size that caused his heart to quail.

The rightmost company was not elven! Light gray cloaks were being ripped aside now, and revealed humans in green tabards and silver mail. Rangers! How had the Windy Islanders sent so many so far?

The commands of the leaders of the rangers could now be heard; they were speaking Westron, not the dialect of Syrisian spoken on the Windy Isles. Cendiolor's forces were now turned about and facing their attackers, but the humans had already decimated them badly, cutting a huge notch into their ranks. Arrows still rained down upon them from the walls, as well.

He prepared to call down the archers from the left flank, turning to see their situation. Just as the massed cavalry of the village smashed into them at some phenomenal speed. The cavalrymen were not even bothering to attack; they simply plowed through the ranks on magically accelerated mounts. Elven archers were crushed, trampled, and flung about like rag dolls.

The attack was beginning to route. Some of the rearmost were already fleeing into the woods. He turned to a trio of wizards nearby, who were busily shielding the command section from incoming arrows.

"Give me fog!" He screamed. "Give me a LOT of fog!"

The leader of the wizards nodded and they changed their incantation. Soon, roiling up from the ground came a dense fog, spreading quickly.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Harlen watched with pride as the huntsmen of Morrovale turned upon the attackers. The nobles with stunned, gaping mouths, and Hyandai with obvious and open glee. Even Harlen was startled when she whooped loudly as the first ranks of the huntsmen plowed into the flank of the elven forces, tearing aside their cloaks of concealment.

"Release the cavalry!" She screamed to her aides. "Take down their archers." Two aides took off south at a sprint.

Turning she yelled at the captain of the left wall. "Get your spearmen to the gate, sally forth and assist the humans!" The captain nodded, and relayed the yell, spearmen began leaping from the wall and running toward the gates.

"What, what is happening?" Lord Ircandann asked, his eyes wide. "Where did those rangers come from?"

Harlen smiled broadly. "My lands." He said. "They are my colleagues, other huntsmen. From the look of it, damn near all of them." He appraised the number. "Perhaps even some others from my homelands."

"We sent not for aid from the human lands." Lady Melewen said, dismayed. "How did they know to come?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Tammer looked over the field as the charge commenced. "Come on boy, give us a sign." He muttered.

As the spells started flying and elves started dying, a fireball shot up from behind the fortifications of the village. It screamed to height, then detonated.

"Good enough!" Tammer hissed, then turned toward the apprentices manning the mortars. "Fire those damn things!" 

The report from the launch of the flares was deafening. A moment later, the dark field was lit brightly by the flying alchemical flares. "Take down their wizards!" Tammer yelled, lifting his bow and firing. The sound of arrows flying overhead was like the whistling winds.

The first volley hardly was noticed in the confusion, but upon the second, the elven army began to wheel about, realizing they had foes upon their own field.

"First and second rank. Engage!" Tammer screamed. The first two rows of huntsmen dropped their bows and drew sword, charging forward.

The shock alone counted for much. As the stolen cloaks were cast aside, the elves were dismayed, then overborne by the massive human warriors, wielding heavy-bladed broadswords. 

For sixty years, Tammer had kept the arsenal and the uniforms in his cellar. He also kept the oath.

All those whom the original forty had trained, and their apprentice's apprentices had taken the oath, though they thought it just idle speech, a relic of bygone days. 

'To defend the lands of Morrovale and uphold the ways of the Windirii.' Most simply thought it was just an homage to the elven philosophy on game management and conservation. They were reminded of that oath, and a few shirked it, most did not.

Perhaps more for Harlen, one of their own, than for the elves, they had come. They marched into this foreign land and they were doing battle for people they did not know. This was the legacy that the elves had wrought so many years before. Morrovale enjoyed prosperity in part from that legacy, and now Morrovale was repaying the debt.

He pulled his own gray cloak off, and those about him were doing the same. They had acquired these fine garments from that wayward company of traitorous elves. It had been sheer luck that Tammer and the huntsmen had stumbled upon the slumbering encampment in broad daylight. The elves had been resting up for this night's sortie.

There had not even been many deaths. They had so surprised the elves in their forest fastness that they were taken alive, for the most part. He had to leave fifty men behind to guard them. This was much debated, and thought was given to putting the traitors to the sword and moving on with all forces.

The three elder rangers had vetoed that very idea. They could hardly be upholding the ways of the Windiri and then commit such a heinous crime.

He looked on with pride as his daughter ducked under an elven spearman's thrust and skewered the traitorous scum with her own sword. He had tried to talk her out of coming, but once she knew that Harlen and Hyandai were in dire straights, she not only insisted, but half her company had come with them as well. The females that Wendy was grouped with were quickly earning the title of the 'Three Banshees,' as they screamed like hellions as they attacked and sent men to their deaths.

"Let's do this, I'm weary of the battle already." Tammer yelled out. Bows were dropped and swords drawn by the remaining ranks of the huntsmen. "Charge!" Tammer screamed.

The second hundred humans threw their weight behind the first and the elven lines began to waver dangerously.

Then the fog descended.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Harlen watched the fog billow from the earth. "What sorcery is this?" He asked.

Hyandai looked down at the wizards below. "Put a stop to this!" She yelled, waving a hand at the fog.

"We will try Warleader." One of the wizards replied, already he was invisible in the roiling gray mist.

Somehow, hearing men die invisibly was even more horrible than when it was witnessed. Screams were heard out in the distance, but how far? And who had it been, friend or foe? Was the victor of that skirmish now running onward with murderous intent?

Shapes moved in the fog and emerged. Things were now utterly confused, which had been the intent, Harlen was sure. He watched as a figure in a gray cloak emerged from the fog and was cut down by an arrow from Hyandai's bow.

"They are among us, but it is no longer an organized assault." She said. "Go find Tammer, get the rangers into the village."

Harlen nodded and ran for the gates. He drew forth his broadsword and was glad that he had. A cloaked shape rushed out of the fog with a long spear aimed at Harlen's chest. He parried the point and turned as the elf tried to cancel his momentum. Harlen aimed a blow and felt it land upon the elven footman's back, the shock of the blow shot up his arm, and he heard the sound of ribs being rent asunder.

Harlen did not even wait to be certain of his opponent's death, he turned and continued running, hearing the screams of elves, men, and the deadly whistle of arrows loosed blindly.

At the gate was carnage; bodies of both Loyalist and Isolationist elves littered the ground here. He stepped through the treacherous footing and started hearing words of Westron. Aiming for that he moved forward cautiously. Three men ran up to him. He recognized them, fellow huntsmen.

"Harlen!" One shouted. "We've gotten separated."

Harlen pointed toward the open gate, though it was obscured in the mists. "Go into the village, find elves not cloaked, aid them!"

They all nodded and headed toward the village gates.

"You lot, turn about, find that damn leader!" A voice screamed, one Harlen recalled screaming at him many times in his apprenticeship. 

That's Tammer, Harlen thought, else I'm a wood nymph.

Harlen moved forward, and saw his old mentor materialize out of the fog, commanding a small knot of huntsmen. "Tammer!" Harlen yelled. "The duke will have your balls for breakfast when he hears of this!"

Tammer turned about. "No he won't." He smiled back at Harlen. "There's a clause in the agreement, long forgotten, I'm sure, but it is there. 'The Agreement' was the charter under which the huntsmen operated. It was oft referred to but seldom actually looked upon. Tammer somehow looked younger, or so Harlen perceived. He knew the old man to be at least eighty, perhaps even ninety. Yet, now he looked no older than fifty or so summers.

"Hyandai says your swords would serve better in this devil's murk inside the walls." Harlen said, watching for cloaked shapes.

Tammer nodded. "You lot!" He yelled. "Find others and come to the wall, go into the village!"

Trevir emerged from the mist. "I thought I heard you two bickering like old ladies." He said, smiling. He had his bow in hand and an arrow knocked. 

Another flare fired into the air, illuminating the fog eerily as it sparked in the sky to sun-brightness.

"You brought the apprentices?" Harlen asked, as a handful of youths and one young girl emerged behind Trevir, from the dense fog.

Tammer chuckled. "Trevir wouldn't accept no. And when he came, the others came, too." He replied. "They're huntsmen, Harlen, don't expect them to bow out because they're young."

"I took the oath, same as you." Trevir said indignantly. "And my bow will kill just as readily, though my arm isn't quite so fat. Master Harlen."

This brought a round of chuckles from the other apprentices and caused Harlen to smile, as well.

"To the wall, you brats." Tammer yelled. "We've elven women to liberate!"

The solitary female apprentice looked at him with scathing reproach. "And lads, too, I'm sure, Nadia." Tammer added, waving his hand toward the wall as she smiled and sprinted after the boys. He smiled after them. "Really, Harlen, did you think these lot would abandon their mentors to a battle?" Tammer looked at him knowingly. "Would you have stayed when you were that age?"

Harlen shook his head. "No, I wouldn't have." He agreed. "I would have snuck behind you even if ordered to stay."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ceriandel heard the battle start and chafed at being placed so far from the action. He paced back and forth as the sky lit up with flares. "What happens there?" He asked rhetorically.

The footmen simply shrugged in response.

A young elf, one of Hyandai's aides, came running by them.

"What passes, aide?" Ceriandel asked.

The aide stopped for a brief moment, panting. "The rangers have arrived, we're saved!" He said excitedly. "I must not tarry, the cavalry is ordered to attack their archers." The youth took off at a sprint again.

"Rangers?" Ceriandel asked no one in particular. "What rangers?"

One of the footmen said. "There were rumors that a company of rangers was coming to help. They must have arrived."

The blade dancer looked at him oddly. "That was just a rumor, soldier." He said. "Hyandai started it to trick the enemy into sparing more of their number scouting in all directions."

A human ran past them, being pursued by three cloaked elves. It was not Harlen. The blade dancer spun into action, cutting the leading elf down in an instant, then spinning his blade through the spear shafts of the other two. They both fled into the fog that followed them. The human turned, realizing he was no longer pursued.

He was wearing the green tabard of a ranger.

"Rumor, ehladrim?" Asked one of the footmen. "A damn convincing one, in my eyes."

"Ranger, whence came you?" Ceriandel asked in Syrisian.

The man walked back toward them, smiling broadly. "I don't speak that tongue, blade dancer." He said, in Westron. "But I thank you. Those bastards ganged up on me."

The fog now engulfed them and there were screams and sounds of the fight all about.

"Westron rangers?" Ceriandel asked.

The man looked into the fog. "If you would have it so, sure." He said. "Tammer seems to think so, crazy old coot."

Ceriandel shrugged. "Why not?" He asked. "I would rather have Westron rangers than traitors in Embalis."

The man nodded. "That's the spirit, always look for the cloud behind the silver lining." He said. "If you'll excuse me, I need to find my squad." The man tromped off into the fog.

Ceriandel blinked. "Enough of this." He said. "Let us move, there are enemy in the village, and we are going to kill a few." The spearmen murmured agreement and picked up their weapons.

Just then a dozen cloaked figures ran out of the fog toward them, spears leveled.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As Harlen disappeared into the fog, Hyandai turned about and ran for the throne chamber. The Ehladrel needed to be protected.

As she entered the chamber, she saw Cendiolor strike down Lord Ircandann. "Now, he would not tell me. Perhaps you will, bitch." He yelled at Lady Melewen, who also had just entered the room. "Where is the Ehladrel?"

Lady Melewen drew her sword. "You traitorous bastard son of a orc." She said, her eyes flashing with rage. She advanced toward the former captain.

Cendiolor chuckled. "A warrior clan you may be of, Melewen." He said. "But you are no match for me in combat." He lifted his warsword and faced her. "Shall we commence?"

They joined combat with one another, and despite his braggadocio, she was not nearly as incompetent as he had thought. Hyandai used the moment to slip behind one of the curtains inside the columns and grab up the Ehladrel. She slung it onto her back and emerged from the alcove.

Cendiolor had wounded the lady, and was approaching her with a murderous glint in his silvern eyes. "Well, I shall search at leisure after dispatching you." He said. "I warned you that you were not match, stupid cur."

"Excuse me for interrupting, Captain Cendiolor." Hyandai said, drawing out the Ehladrel. "Was this what you sought?"

His eyes widened as she pulled forth the weapon. Hyandai charged toward him, the blade humming in the misty air as she whirled it in rapid, deadly arcs.

The Captain fled the chamber, and ran into the fog. She let him go, kneeling beside Ircandann. He still lived, but barely. "Lady Melewen, please attend your husband." Hyandai said, needlessly, as Melewen was already running forward as best she could on a wounded leg.

Hyandai rose from the fallen lord and scanned the fog. An aide ran up out of the mist. "Warleader!" He exclaimed. "The Lady Melewen's aide, Rannalath, has betrayed us, he has slain Centhan and stolen the Ehladrel from your chamber." Her voice slowed as she spoke, eyeing the weapon in Hyandai's hands. "Lady Hyandai?" She asked.

"He stole only a copy." Hyandai said. "And showed his treason for it." She turned toward the gate. A small group of huntsmen turned rangers emerged from the fog, forming from blurry outlines.

"Lady Hyandai." One said. "You are well, I see." She vaguely recognized him from Morrovale.

"Please protect the lord and lady." Hyandai said tersely, then ran into the fog, headed for the front gate.

The huntsmen shrugged at each other and murmured a moment. Lady Melewen lifted her eyes from her tending to her husband and regarded the massive men.

"Thank you." She said, her eyes grateful and her lips smiling.

The huntsmen nodded. "Happy to do it." Said the leader. 

The men spread out into a loose circle around the two elves as she went back to tending Ircandann. It was not for long moments that she realized the irony of the moment.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Tammer and Harlen moved through the fog quickly, seeking for enemies and allies alike. The apprentices had disappeared, but could be heard from time to time shouting at one another. Harlen heard a whistle past his ear, and turned to see an elven spearman, wearing the gray robes of the Isolationists, take an arrow to his shoulder. He dropped his spear as Tammer ran the elf through with his sword.

Harlen looked back over his shoulder to see a grinning Trevir stringing another arrow into his bow. "You could have hit me, you twerp." Harlen said.

"But I didn't, I'll aim better next time." Trevir said, giggling and disappearing back into the roiling mist. He would excuse Trevir's tongue this night, Harlen decided, he was a soldier for now, and should be given all the latitude a man who risks life and limb deserved.

The two of them walked down the path and finally came upon the throne chamber, and upon the surreal scene of humans guarding elven nobility. 

Tammer shook his head. "This night proves to grow odder by the moment." He said.

Harlen walked over to the huntsmen and asked about Hyandai.

"Miss Hyandai went that direction." One huntsman said, pointing toward the stair into the Turaorn.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 20



Harlen nodded. "Tammer, you may want to stay here and watch over the lord and lady." He said.

Tammer looked at him. "Oh, just leave me here to languish." He groused. "But I relish not a climb of many stairs, so go."

The huntsman took off for the stair at a sprint.

Another flare rocketed skyward and flashed into blinding brilliance overhead. Harlen noted how dedicated the firers must be to hold their place to keep those things in the sky.

He began the climb into the Turaorn.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The fog was a bane, Ceriandel decided, turning to find himself alone. He had lost his little contingent of footmen somehow. Blade dancers often lost perception of their surroundings as they fought, but never their foes. He looked about and saw, emerging from the mists, seven enemy footmen, and one blade dancer.

His heart began to race. Blade dancers often got into discussions of relative skill, rarely could they boast having actually crossed blades with another of their own kind. While regretting the necessity of the battle to come, he relished the opportunity.

The footmen would present a problem, though. He leveled his blade and adopted the starting stance for over a dozen possible maneuvers. The other blade dancer did the same, but the spearmen spread out, preparing to attack Ceriandel from many sides.

"You fear to fight me alone?" Ceriandel taunted. "Traitor AND coward, then?"

"As opposed to traitor AND fool." Replied the other blade dancer. 

An ear splitting screech came from behind the enemy blade dancer and suddenly two of the seven footmen fell, arrows in their backs. Then another fell, a long spear through his very spine, pinning him to the ground.

As the spearmen turned to face this new threat three shapes came forth from the obscuring mist, swords flashing and hair flying. Two fell instantly to the skilled hands of the woman warriors. The third attempted to back toward his remaining ally, but the smallest of the women brought her left hand around, with a hyandai in it, slitting the elf's neck cleanly.

The Isolationist ehledrim looked about watching the last footman flee into the fog. "Will you now take the advantage of numbers?" He taunted.

Ceriandel looked at the three women, watching them as they panted and watched the two blade dancers face off. "No." He said. "For I still have my honor."

The other blade dancer gave a quick head bow and began his attack. Ceriandel responded with his own maneuver.

The human women watched the deadly and beautiful engagement of the two elves. Shining blades flashed under the harsh, sterile glow of the flare. The blades never stopped their maneuvers, coming around in split heartbeats and meeting again and again. Wendy quickly lost count of the number of blows launched and parried.

Back and forth the two fought, moving about one another. One moment nearly touching as they dodged a blow, another they were at almost three paces apart, only to close again with another resounding clash of steel on steel.

Maegan leaned on her sword. "I put five down on the one in gray." She said, causing Ceriandel to raise an eyebrow of concern.

Tessa laughed. "I'll cover that, the other one is much better looking." She commented. This caused Ceriandel to blush.

Wendy looked at the two of them. "I will shoot the gray one if he wins." She said simply, knocking an arrow into her bow. "Then again, it was not I who promised a fair fight." 

Something in the tone of her voice made the Isolationist blade dancer quail. Ceriandel pressed the attack. "What vexes you, blade dancer?" Ceriandel asked. "Do mere humans worry you? Should your victory not be assured if my allies are but human?"

Powerful blow after powerful blow landed upon the gray-cloaked blade dancer's weapon, forcing it aside again and again as he fought to regain the initiative. He had quit bantering with Ceriandel.

An arc of gleaming steel flowed around the two almost like spheres made up of ribbons of shining silver. Ceriandel was pushing the other blade dancer back, though, and soon he was out of room. Ceriandel chuckled. "You are losing, friend." He said. "Surrender and I will spare you."

The other blade dancer flicked his eyes at the human women, and especially at the one with the bow at the ready. Resignation filled his eyes. Though whether it meant resigned to surrender or resigned to die, Ceriandel did not yet know.

Bested by another blade singer, and disgraced by allowing himself to be shown up by mere humans. He took the only option his pride would allow. As Ceriandel aimed another curving blow for his neck, he dropped his defenses.

All three human women flinched as his head fell to the ground. Even Ceriandel felt himself robbed of a victory, in part. He knelt beside this fallen blade dancer. Twice fallen, in Ceriandel's opinion.

"May the spirits forgive you." Ceriandel murmured.

He stood up and turned toward the women. "My thanks." He said, noting that the largest of them stood right before him.

It was Tessa. His eyes barely had time to register that she was really quite attractive, in a massive way. Then she grabbed him about the waist and, bending him backwards, kissed him thoroughly and deeply.

A moment, when she stood back upright, lifting him easily with her, she said, "Yes, it's that good." over her shoulder to the other women. Releasing the blade singer to regain his feet under him.

Ceriandel just blinked while Maegan walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "You're not plaited or married are you?" She asked, conversationally.

He shook his head negatively, just now starting to reanimate his body.

"Good." Maegan said, her eyes flashing. "Then I'll try the other traits you elves seem to possess later." With that, she kissed him gently on the forehead.

He looked over toward the smaller woman, fearing she too would desire to extract some unspoken reward from him. She simply smiled at him.

"You're cute." She said, and turned toward where the other two were heading northward.

He slowly followed the trio, not wanting to be alone. Admittedly, he did not mind the view from behind the three women, as well. "Perhaps Hyandai knows something I do not." He murmured to himself.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The cadre protecting Lord Ircandann and Lady Melewen had grown to twenty-five men now, and a dozen elves, loyal to the village. The sounds of fighting were now lessened, and it seemed that the sky was lightening in the east.

Also, the fog was breaking. Strong winds were blowing now, from the north, cold, but cleaning the air of the unwanted mists. Tammer regarded the area around him as his view extended by the second.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Harlen found Hyandai in her chamber, standing over the body of the lord's aide, Centhan. The fake Ehladrel was lying upon her cot. She was weeping and her shoulders sagged.

"I cannot do it any more, Harlen." She said. "The fight is over for me."

The huntsman put his hands on her shoulders. "It's okay, beloved, I think the worst of it is over."

He picked up the false Hyandai and took the real one from her numb fingers. He slipped the two into the loose sheath that he had crafted earlier. Apparently, Hyandai had lost the tailored one he had more recently made.

Harlen put an arm about her slim waist and guided her from the room, slipping the pouch over his shoulder. The two of them watched as the fog below was being driven before the wind. The main bulk of the battle was obviously over. Down below, there were hundreds of bodies strewn about the field outside the battered palisades and inside the village itself.

Hyandai shook her head and walked over the catwalk to the command chamber. This would make the obvious place to organize the aftermath of the fight. As they came to the chamber door, Harlen saw the form of an elf within, holding a hyandai. It was Ranalath. He looked at the two of them.

"Wretched slut!" Ranalath screamed as he lunged toward them. Harlen drew his sword and pushed Hyandai out of the doorway.

The hyandai cut Harlen's arm as the elf swung at him. But the former aide was already backing away, his eyes fearful.

"That was foolish." Harlen said, advancing slowly. "You only get one shot, you know?"

The elf aimed another attack at Harlen, but barely moved a single pace as Harlen brought the heavy broadsword around and sliced him deeply across the chest, caving the ribs in. Ranalath was dead before he struck the floor.

Harlen turned about to find Hyandai and saw her. She was being held about the neck by Cendiolor, and a dagger was pressed to her neck. 

"Come closer, human, and your little whore dies." The former captain said.

Harlen's shoulders slumped.

Cendiolor grinned broadly. "You can save her, you know?" He said. "I see you have the Ehladrel on your shoulder there."

Harlen looked at him. "As if I should give it to you." He said.

The dagger twitched and Hyandai squeaked in pain as blood flowed over the blade.

"Okay, okay!" Harlen exclaimed. "You'll let her go?"

"Of course." Cendiolor said.

Harlen reached into the pouch and gripped the wooden Ehladrel. He sat it upon the table, where the glowing map overlay it with odd reflections.

Cendiolor chuckled. "Very good for a trained ape." He said. Now move around and toss your sword out the door and off the platform.

Harlen moved about, Cendiolor echoing his movements opposite him, keeping the large table between them.

The sword bounced off the handrail then tumbled into space, falling.

"You humans really are idiots." Cendiolor said. Reaching for the Ehladrel, and letting Hyandai's arm go.

Hyandai moved like lightning, ducking under his arm and jumping away. Cendiolor chuckled and gripped the handle. "Now you both die." He said, lifting the weapon and swinging it at Hyandai. It struck her chest.

It shattered into dozens of pieces of painted hardwood. The look of shock upon Cendiolor's face would have been classically funny were it not such a grim situation. Even as it was, Harlen could not resist but to grin slightly as he drew out the real Ehladrel and leaped up onto the table.

The elven captain watched the enraged human approach with a certain detached fascination. He made a half-hearted grab for his warsword, but it never cleared the scabbard. Blood splattered the wall behind him and the ceiling over where his head used to be as Harlen brought the Ehladrel around in a lethal, tight curve that would have made any blade dancer proud. The wall behind where Cendiolor had stood bore testament to the force used to decapitate the traitorous captain. A deep rent scored it for two feet, piercing through the thick wooden planks to the outside air in the center.

Harlen landed upon the floor panting and cocking back the long blade for another swipe at the dead elf.

"Harlen, no." Hyandai said quietly. "He is gone now. May the spirits correct his ways."

It took a moment for Harlen to realize Hyandai was speaking. He looked up at Hyandai with hostile eyes, not for her, but for what he had been forced to do.

"How is it that elves, whom I have always fantasized about, can cause me to be so violent?" Harlen asked.

Hyandai smiled gently, pulling the Ehladrel from his grip. "Because we are people, just like humans are. We are not perfect beings, Harlen, though I think you humans wish us to be."

Sitting upon the table, Harlen nodded. "We do." He admitted. "It's why we call you angels. We want badly for something out there not so base as us."

An aide came running into the room. "Lady Hyandai." He said. "The traitors have left the village, we are victorious." His face was splattered with blood as well, and he had several small wounds.

Hyandai nodded. "Go clean yourself and tend those wounds, Lennat." She said. "We are done with battle for now, let us restore order."

The aide nodded and left the chamber. Hyandai stroked Harlen's hair as he looked down at the corpses of Cendiolor and Ranalath. 

A few minutes later, Tammer came in, winded but hale and hearty. "Well lad." He said, "It seems we've won."

He sat next to Harlen on the edge of the table. "We lost sixty two." Tammer said. "They'll be missed sorely."

Hyandai's eyes began shedding tears. "So many." She said.

Tammer nodded. "The elven folk are still counting and finding who is whom." He said. "It's confused by the fact that some of the traitors shed their cloaks toward the end to escape, and even put a few on dead villagers."

Hyandai shook her head. "We thank you, Tammer, for helping us." She said quietly. "There is no way we can repay you for what you have done."

With a shrug, Tammer summed it up. "We did it for you." He said.

She looked up at him with wide green eyes. "Me?" She said, her voice cracking. "Why me?"

Tammer grinned foolishly. "You made a lot of friends in Morrovale in your short stay, Hyandai." Tammer said. "You also had one hell of a propagandist." He added.

Trevir came running in, also grinning. "Harlen, we did it!" He exclaimed, running up to the knot of people. "They said the bad guys are running for the hills."

Harlen tousled his hair. "Yes, Trevir, good job." He said. "Where are the other apprentices?"

"They're all over the place, helping clean up and stuff." Trevir said. "I was told to seek you out and tell you to come down to the throne chamber."

A moment passed as Harlen looked at the lad's florid face. There was nothing for it, though; youth were excited by all novelty. Trying to dampen his high spirits after this fight would be pointless, and maybe hurtful.

"We will be down shortly." Harlen said. "Go aid in the cleanup, please."

"Yes, Master Harlen." Trevir said, and ran back out.

The three stood and departed the command chamber and found their way down the many ramps and stairs to the base of the Turaorn. Harlen looked over the morning lit field.

"By the One." He said quietly as he watched people carrying linen sacks past him with bodies inside. "It is bitterly won, is it not?" He asked Tammer.

"Most wars are, son." Tammer said, patting Harlen's shoulder. Hyandai put her arm around Harlen's waist and walked beside him to the pavilion where the throne chamber lay.

"Interesting part of elven warfare." Tammer said as they entered the pavilion. "If you're not slain outright, you can almost always count on a quick recovery."

Harlen nodded. "That's better than we boast." He said. "No walking wounded, it is somewhat an improvement, I suppose."

Lord Ircandann and Lady Melewen sat upon their thrones again. The lord sported fresh clothes. They were both surrounded by a phalanx of elven footmen and a dozen huntsmen, as well.

Harlen looked at one of the huntsmen. "Why are you still here?" He asked. "I am certain that you are free to stand down."

The burly huntsman, named Chenitt, looked at him. "The Warleader has not released us." He said, looking at Hyandai.

Hyandai smiled. "You may stand down." She said happily. "Your service to Embalis has been a credit to yourselves, your land, and your race."

The huntsmen bowed toward her then toward the seated nobles, then withdrew to the edge of the chamber, where another large knot of troops awaited.

Ircandann rose from his seat. "You have done well Warleader." He said. "Are you ready for your duty to be lifted?"

She smiled broadly. "More than you know, Lord Ircandann." She replied with a sigh.

He touched her shoulder. "Then it is done. Lady Hyandai of Clan Yavanhaur, you are hereby relieved of the duties of Warleader, and permitted to take up your old profession and liberties." He said formally.

Hyandai gave a low bow and regained her feet. "I take my leave then, lord, for I wish to find my family." She said. "I have not seen my brother, father, or sister since before the battle."

The lord gave her a quick head bow and Hyandai turned about smartly and walked away from the thrones. Harlen gave a quick bow of his own and chased after her to the nobles' smiles.

She cornered a couple of the aides, and after explaining her demotion back to normal citizen she asked about her family. One of them pointed toward the gates in the palisade.

The couple walked across the once verdant lawn of the village, now churned with dirt and blood and signs of combat. They walked through the gate and witnessed the carnage that had been wrought most there. Over three hundreds of the traitor army lay dead in the field just outside the gates, where the hammer had smashed them against the anvil. The archers who had been on the right flank lay in disarray about that portion of the field.

Hyandai began to cry anew. "The Spirits did not smile this day." She said. She looked over the wide patch of corpses and saw her family there, among the corpses of the fallen. They had a wagon from the village's stables.

As Harlen and Hyandai approached, they saw that they were picking the human corpses out of the mass of dead. Hyandai's father and brother were loading the fallen and Loskenhaur sewing them into linen wrappings quickly on the tailgate of the wagon.

A look of concern crossed Hyandai's face. "Did we learn nothing?" She asked as she approached them, causing the three to look at her. "We separate out the humans from even our dead?"

Her upset was quite evident and her color was deepening toward red.

Hyandai's father smiled. "But we do not." He said. "We seek to give ceremony to the humans along with our own dead, but not with these traitors. They died as heroes of Embalis."

Ceriandel smiled at her. "You think we would dishonor them with being burned in the same pyre as these vagabonds?" He asked.

Hyandai blushed a deep crimson. "I apologize." She said. "I did not think through my words."

Loskenhaur, whom Harlen had yet to meet, smiled a lovely, bright smile. "It matters little, sister. Your concern for them does you credit." She looked up at Harlen. "You must be my sister's handsome betrothed." She said. Loskenhaur was beautiful in the typically elven way, which made her rather too beautiful for Harlen's tastes, or too perfect.

"Yes, and you are Loskenhaur." Harlen said. "Tammer spoke much of you."

She graced him with another smile of unsurpassed beauty. "I heard he is here, I shall have to find him and find out if his kissing talents have lessened over the years." Loskenhaur said, playfully.

For the next hour, Harlen and Hyandai helped load up the wagon with the bodies of the fallen Rangers of Morrovale. When they had finished, Hyandai's father led the two back toward the gate.

"You two go, get out of that wargear and be at rest." He said. "You have pressed yourself sorely, Hyandai. Now you can relax."

Ceriandel called over toward them. "If you see Maegan or Tessa, tell them where I live, hmm?" He said toward Hyandai.

Hyandai gave him a shocked look, but with a wide smile. "Of course." She said. "Should I tell them what you like girls to wear?"

The blade dancer thought a moment. "They can come nude if they like." He said. "I am not particular." This last earned him a sharp jab to the ribs by Loskenhaur, who laughed at him.

Climbing back up the tree toward her chamber Harlen spied Trevir coming back down again.

"What passes, boy?" Harlen asked.

Trevir smiled brightly. "I'm running messages for the lord and lady." He said. "Lady Melewen said I was cute!" He added excitedly. "She's almost as pretty as you, Miss Hyandai."

They watched as Trevir disappeared around the spiraling stairs downward. She then took Harlen's hand and led him upward. They passed by her chamber. "I thought . . .." Harlen said.

"You wish to wear the grime of battle?" She said. "Come with me." She led him around the wide platform to another door into the building that stood upon it. They walked a long passage that seemed too deep, then he realized they were inside the very trunk of the massive tree.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 20



Coming to a door, they halted, and Hyandai pushed it open, lighting a candle upon the torch burning there already. Harlen felt moisture on his face. They entered the room and Hyandai pushed the door shut.

She spent a moment lighting more candles about the little room. In the center was a deep trough cut into the wood, and it was full of sparkling clear water.

"A bath, inside the tree?" Harlen asked.

Hyandai giggled. "Where else?" She said. "Though I fear it is not quite so warm as your bath." 

She unfastened the chainmail and let it fall to the floor with a loud metallic sound. As it fell from her, she grabbed Harlen's arm.

"Oh, dear." She said. "I had forgotten my own weakness."

Harlen grabbed her by her waist and lowered her onto a long bench, also shaped from the living wood. He slowly and carefully helped her undress, pulling her boots off and then her padded coat. Soon, she was nude upon the bench and leaning back against the wall.

"I hope now, my appetite returns." Hyandai said. "I can let Verus go for now."

Harlen nodded and helped her into the cool water. She shivered for a moment, then relaxed and sat upon submerged ledges under the surface.

He began to take off his own chainmail, and Hyandai watched with interest. He noted the observation.

"You watching for something in particular?" Harlen asked.

She smiled. "Oh, yes." She said. "I wonder if humans are so debauched as to be eager for love play after a battle."

Harlen smiled as he took off the horse blanket he had been wearing, then kicked off his boots. Unclasping his belt he let his pants drop to the floor.

"Is that sufficient answer?" He asked.

She smiled broadly. "I was certainly hoping, for I know this elf was more than ready to be loved." She said.

Harlen slipped into the water and knelt before her as she sat upon the seat. "I have a feeling, anytime you are in the mood, I will be as well." He said.

She smiled. "And that is just and proper." Hyandai said. Her face taking on a look of assumed haughtiness.

She giggled at her own crude wit, and then moaned as Harlen kissed her feverishly. His hands clasped the back of her head, and entwined into her long red hair.

They held the kiss for a long moment, then Harlen pulled back. "How will this work, with you in such a frail state?" He asked.

Hyandai smiled. "You will simply have to do all the work." She said. "While I shout encouraging words."

Harlen laughed at this and began kissing her again, upon the neck and then down her chest, even into the water to kiss and suck her breasts. As he came up for air, Hyandai caught his head in her hands.

"I think you will drown if you try anything more, beloved." She said. "Trust in me, I am ready for you."

He now felt her slender hands moving down his back, pulling him toward her. He moved his knees up against the small ledge she was on and felt her opening with the end of his organ.

She kissed his chin, and tugged at his waist. "Take me." She whispered into his ear.

Slowly, he pushed into her, and he found it surprisingly easy, given the water of the bath. He had expected it to wash away any slickness she might have. She smiled and held out her hand. There was a clear liquid in it, and smelled somewhat of lilacs.

"What is that?" Harlen asked, sniffing the liquid.

Hyandai smiled. "Something that Wendy told me about." She replied. "Just enjoy its benefits."

He pushed into her again and felt no resistance. Hyandai moaned loudly as he began giving her his energy now, gripping her hips and thrusting into her in long powerful strokes. Her small mouth moved over his chin and neck, kissing and caressing him.

She grunted as he thrust anew, pulling her to the edge of the little shelf she sat upon, then lifting her from it, standing. He used his powerful arms to lift and drop her onto his thick shaft and she began to cry out with each entry.

Harlen felt her opening tighten around the base of his cock and knew she was nearing her release. With almost an angry expenditure of energy, he began ramming her down onto his pole and lifting her up as quickly as he could manage. Her arms were clasped around his neck, bearing some small part of her weight, and soon his left ear rang with her cries of pleasure, and the sound of his name being called out in her release.

His name being spoken in ecstasy gave him such a thrill he could not resist climaxing at that moment. Pushing her down one final time onto his engorged cock. He could feel his seed shooting forth into her and felt her cunt clamp down on him as she used her waning strength to grind her hips a little, helping him along.

They slowly stopped moving, only pressing their lips to one another and kissing slowly as their bodies cooled down quickly in the soothing water. Harlen lowered her back to her submerged bench and knelt again before her.

"I love you, Harlen of Morrovale." She whispered into his ear. The smile so broad on her face that he could actually hear it.

He kissed her gently on the tip of her ear. "And I love you, Hyandai of Clan Yavanhaur." His own smile was very likely audible, he thought.

She picked up a rag from a pile near the bath, and a bar of soap. "Now, perhaps we can do what we were supposed to be doing here." She said, teasing him.

"It was your idea." Harlen said, defending himself. "You started it."

"Of course I did." She taunted, beginning to scrub his chest. "And now we bathe." She tilted her head and regarded him. "Is there a problem with that, Ranger?"

Harlen shook his head, snatching up a rag and lathering it up with the sweet-smelling soap. "Only if this soap removes your scent." He said.

"It will not." Hyandai confirmed. "I do not think I will be using any soaps that would do so from now on."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ceriandel smiled as he settled into the tub of warm water in his room. They had spent hours clearing up the dead and he was now ready for a long break.

There was a loud knock upon his chamber door. "Blade dancer?" A male voice called from outside the door, a human voice.

"Yes, ranger?" Ceriandel asked.

"I have a note here from the leader of the rangers for you." The man said. "Something about a debt."

"A what?" Ceriandel asked. "Please bring it in and leave it on the table inside the door."

"Yes sir." The human said, and Ceriandel heard, beyond the thin partition he was bathing behind the door open, then close. 

He started to relax again, sliding down in the water and enjoying letting it soak into him, the warmth loosening sore muscles and tight knots in his joints. 

It was almost like a hot hand was running over his shoulders, he thought. Then realized his shoulders were not in the tub. His eyes snapped open with shock and he found himself staring up into the eyes of the human woman, Maegan. She was seated on the edge of the tub, before him, wearing nothing but a robe. Her thick red hair was matted with moisture to her head. 

"Well." Ceriandel said. "This is a pleasant surprise." He smiled at her and she returned it.

"It will be." She agreed, sliding her hand into the warm water and over his leg. She looked over his head. "Will it not Tessa?"

"Very much so." Tessa said from behind him, it was her strong hands kneading his tensed muscles, causing them to turn to a liquid under her powerful massaging motions.

He tilted his head back to look at the blonde woman, a giant even among her own people. "Hello again, Tessa." He said and she leaned down and kissed him, pressing her lips to his, upside down and sliding her soft tongue into his mouth. He could smell scented oil, perhaps lavender, in her long hair as it shrouded their faces.

There was a bit of a start as Maegan's hand moved over his swelling organ, then gripped it gently. She kissed his chest as she leaned down over the tub.

"I thought elves were smaller than men?" She said, kissing his nipple, then playfully giving it a nip with her teeth.

Tessa broke the kiss to look down at his growing cock. "I suppose you should not put much credence in rumors, hmm?" She said.

Ceriandel moved slowly and stood up from the tub, water dripping off of him. Maegan pressed herself to his chest and kissed him while Tessa did the same to his back, running her lips and tongue over his neck and ears.

He ran his hands over the smooth skin of the redhead, and watched as she moaned at the touch as he tickled her nipples. He found her freckles fascinating, and vowed to make sure he touched each one.

Tessa was now kissing his shoulder and then biting it gently. Each touch of her teeth sent a thrill down his spine to make his cock pulse with excitement.

Finally, Maegan broke the kisses off and took Ceriandel's hand, and led him to his bed. She pushed him gently down upon the bed and stood back up. Tessa came up beside her and looked down at the elven blade singer.

"How best to extract our reward?" Tessa said quietly, regarding him with a critical eye.

Maegan untied her robe. "You know me, direct and to the point." She said. The robe slid off her shoulders revealing a long, muscular body with curving hips and round, soft breasts. Her pink nipples were already erect and pointed at him.

Ceriandel moved forward and cupped the breasts in his slim hands, squeezing them with surprising strength. Maegan gasped as he sucked on one nipple, flicking his tongue over it with amazing speed.

She smiled down. "I think I have found one elven talent I wish to explore." She said, stroking his long hair.

Tessa was upon her knees by the bed and leaned down between their bodies, licking her way up his thigh. Once she reached his stomach she turned inward and engulfed his cock with her soft lips. She took him down to the very root of his organ, causing him to groan softly as she sucked hard and pulled back up. When only the head remained between her lips, she flicked her tongue over it and felt his pole twitch with the sensation.

He grunted after a long moment of this and Tessa felt one of his hands on the back of her head. She rolled her eyes up to see him now leaning to the side and Maegan's legs to either side of his angular face as he looked upward. His tongue was moving like a blur over her clit. Tessa knew now what 'elven talent' Maegan had been speaking of.

She felt his organ twitch in her mouth and felt her mouth fill with something warm and slick, and vaguely tasting of cinnamon. She moaned as she sucked it down, though, and found the taste anything but disagreeable. Looking up at him, she saw him take a moment from pleasing Maegan to close his eyes and concentrate.

The organ, which had been growing flaccid in her hand, suddenly twitched and started swelling into a full erection again. "By the One, THAT is a talent!" Tessa said, her voice full of awe.

Maegan watched it, too, but then was obliged to close her eyes again as he reapplied his flicking tongue to her clitoris. The sensation throughout her body was that of a tightly cocked crossbow, its string thrumming with anticipation of being fired off.

She felt another tongue upon her clit alongside his. Tessa had straddled him and was lying atop him as she joined him in lapping at her cunt. Tessa's hand moved down between herself and Ceriandel as Maegan angled back and supported herself on her arms while Ceriandel held up her waist.

Grabbing up the elf's cock, Tessa pushed herself down upon it and felt it slide into her smoothly. She groaned as it entered her and loved the feel of his smooth pelvis on her clitoris.

Maegan soon climaxed as the two tongue flicked and lapped at her, Ceriandel's quick one and Tessa's knowledgeable one. She screamed out her orgasm and her body writhed in Ceriandel's strong grip. Finally she had given up her last groans and moved up to sit upon the bed.

Tessa sat upward and changed the angle of entry for Ceriandel's pole into her body. Moaning, she picked up the pace and began grinding herself upon his organ. She finally reached back and grabbed his knees, lying back at a severe angle to do so.

Maegan, not one to miss a cue, moved over Ceriandel and began to lap at Tessa's opening herself, sliding her tongue over the clit and the elf's shaft as it went into her.

The orgasm that wracked Tessa was apparently shattering, as she nearly fainted back, only stopping when Maegan grabbed her shoulders and sitting her back upright. The blonde smiled down at the blade dancer.

"Wow." She said. "How did you get it to bend?" She asked.

He looked down at her. "I did not." He said as she continued her slow and steady motion.

She grinned down at him. "Then what was that?" She said as the sensation hit her again, causing her body to twitch.

He smiled enigmatically. "Elven talent." He said. "Just enjoy it." He teased and did it again, then again, increasing the force of the 'bend' and pressing hard upon a very sensitive spot within her. She gasped as she was nearing another climax, and then did faint when it hit her, his 'bend' surging within her and hammering the spot that seemed to work so well with this woman.

Maegan looked at him with wide eyes. "What did you do?" She asked as she helped lower the unconscious girl to the bed, beside him.

He kissed her neck. "Elven talent." He said again and she felt something stir inside her. She looked down and saw that nothing was there, not his hand, not his cock, nothing. He kissed her, and something moved into her, filling her up and then spreading her gently open, wider and deeper.

"One save me." She moaned as it forced its way past anything she had known. She fell onto the bed and then felt it moving out of her, then back in.

With a face of ultimate placidity, Ceriandel moved atop her and entered, her. It felt as if she were being mounted by a stallion. She pushed up to take him and felt his organ swell within her to massive proportions. Maegan had always liked large cocks, but this was beyond amazing, she was in pure bliss as he thrust into her with enough force and depth to make her exhale strongly with each push.

Soon, she too cried out as she felt one last surge in his cock and felt her womb fill with his seed. Her orgasm arrived a moment later, locking her arms and legs into place and causing her mind to completely shut down with the power of the sensory overload.

When the two girls came to, Ceriandel was sitting between them, stroking their breasts, stomachs, and thighs with his fingertips, examining them and exploring them. They did not regain consciousness quickly but in small steps.

"What did you do to us?" Tessa said, smiling "Not that we are likely to complain, whatever it was."

Ceriandel smiled again, and kissed her brow. "Let a man have his secrets, hmm?" He said quietly, and gently. "To know too much may ruin it."

She nodded. "Okay." She said. "I'm not likely to argue against that kind of pleasure."

Maegan rubbed her forehead. "Did someone at least see the color of that horse?" She asked, rubbing her head and stomach at the same time. "I fear I may foal in a few months."

Tessa giggled. "What are you talking about?" She asked. "It wasn't THAT big."

Ceriandel smiled quietly and sat upon a small stool, sharpening his ehladrel, and whistling as he dragged the whetstone over the steel-gray metal of the blade.

"Wasn't that big?" Maegan gasped. "You're daft!"

Tessa looked at her oddly. "It wasn't." She said, defensively. "It bent in the middle, and wiggled about, but it was pretty normal sized."

"Wiggled about!" Maegan laughed. "Now who's talking like a mad woman?"

They both stared at each other a second then at Ceriandel, turning in unison to regard him. "What did you do?" They asked, close enough together to make it one question.

The elf smiled slightly and both of them felt fingers moving up their thighs, squeezing and stroking their soft flesh.

Tessa gasped. "Magic." She said, and looked down at herself. Indeed there was nothing there to see. But just as there was nothing beheld, there most definitely was something to be felt.

An unseen appendage, remarkably tumescent slid into her, filling her with one smooth motion. Her eyes widened in surprise and pleasure. She parted her lips and looked over at Maegan, who was quite obviously enjoying much the same sensation.

The two giggled and turned toward one another as the phantom cocks moved inside them, penetrating deeper and deeper into their stretched cunts. They began to kiss and stroke each other's breasts and nuzzle the other's neck.

Finally, they wound up facing opposite directions, their mouths and tongues moving over one another's clitorises and folded lips.

Ceriandel sat back, propping his shoulders against the wall and closed his eyes. Both women squealed as another pair of illusory organs entered them. The penetrating feeling started out rapier thin as they slid into their tight anuses, then stretching slowly in girth, spreading them open with utmost gentleness, but unstoppable inevitability.

Tessa proceeded Maegan to climax, but not by very much. By the time hers was dying down, and the twitching in her groin slowed, the girl with the intricate network of freckles was groaning out her own release, grabbing Tessa's head and rubbing her pelvis over the blonde's willing mouth wantonly.

Then they were gone. The non-existent cocks left, and disappeared into the aether from which they were cast. Maegan collapsed onto Tessa, panting and feeling the slick perspiration they had both exuded. Tessa turned her head toward Ceriandel, smiling.

"I see now why elves are so elusive." She murmured, her legs still writhing involuntarily, clutching at Maegan's smooth thigh, and gently rubbing her raw, tingling clit on the other woman's skin. "More than a few about and no one would ever get any work done."

Ceriandel smiled. "You enjoyed that then?" He asked.

Maegan made some sort of unintelligible sound and Tessa giggled. "Yes, blade dancer, if you find Maegan short of words, then you have done something well and thoroughly." She said. "But, please, tell me, what were you doing?"

He smiled again. "It is, as you say, an 'elven talent'." Ceriandel said. "All members of my bloodline have some form of it or another. My gift is to move things and be able to feel them at a distance, with my mind."

Tessa gave a half-lidded smile. "And a fine gift the One has bestowed upon you." She said. "Or the Spirits, if they be the culprits." Maegan vaguely nodded, as if to agree, she seemed to slowly be recovering. Tessa gently stroked Maegan's spine to comfort her friend as if wounded or ill.

"You may have broken my friend, here." Tessa said playfully. "She may well never be quite the same. I've never seen her so, well, so thoroughly done in."

Ceriandel nodded. "I will be a bit gentler next time." He said, standing and kneeling beside the prone women. He stroked Maegan's hair and the redhead turned to him, opening one eye half way.

"No gentler." Maegan managed to murmur. "Same." She added with great effort. Then her mouth formed into a smile, a tired, well-worn smile. "Harder." She sighed as she closed the eye again.

Rising from his knees, Ceriandel turned and reclaimed his stool, again sharpening his ehladrel, which had many small nicks and scrapes along the razor-honed edge.

Tessa said. "Will you be here when we awake?"

The elf considered this a moment. "Of course." He said. "This is my room."

Tessa opened her eyes halfway again. "Oh, yeah." She murmured and then closed them again.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Master Tammer." Lady Melewen said. "You look very worn, please allow Ealina to show you to a guest chamber and rest a while."

Tammer nodded, he was exhausted, truth be told. He was not as young as he had once been. The pretty young maiden took his dry old hand and guided him up a low flight of stairs into one of the lesser ornthalion of the village. There she folded back the linen upon the cot and drew the curtains closed to cut out the morning light.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 21



Harlen awoke with a start, realizing that he was alone in the bed. He sat up, casting his eyes about searching the darkened room for Hyandai. When his eyes fell upon his beloved, standing in a long, flowing gown of rich blue silk, they stopped and widened.

Hyandai radiated beauty and affection toward him. She was just standing from a small desk in the corner of her room. A miniature calyondo shone light down upon the desk from a wooden stand. She had been writing.

"Harlen, all is well," Hyandai murmured to him in a soothing tone. She crossed the floor, seeming to float without moving her feet in the long gown. "Why the panic, beloved?" asked Hyandai.

He turned and let his feet touch the floor. "I don't know," replied Harlen. "It just seemed something was wrong, and I wanted to be sure you were safe."

Her lips parted in a wide smile. "Of course I am safe," she said, soothing him. "You and your fellow men of Morrovale have made us all safe for now." Hyandai held out a leather cup to him. "Drink some of this. It will calm you. I understand humans take a while to soothe their nerves after a battle."

"And elves don't?" asked Harlen, then took a long sip from the cup. He felt something cool, but with the slight burn of alcohol sliding down his throat, leaving a fruity aftertaste.

Hyandai grinned. "Of course we do," she replied. "But I have an excellent lover who soothed my nerves quite well, and with admirable enthusiasm, I might add." She sat upon the bed and touched his chest. "Your heart still races," she observed.

He smiled. "That's not battle-worry," replied Harlen. "That's you." He stroked her silken hair, unbound on her cheek. The strands of his own hairs mingled with hers there causing an interesting mixture of texture and color, where she had magically transferred their locks to one another.

She nuzzled toward that contact. "It is me?" asked Hyandai. "I cause such distress in your heart?"

"You cause such excitement," replied Harlen. "If distress I would gladly endure daily, forever."

Hyandai's face grew very solemn. "Then we must care for your health carefully, else we might cause your early demise," she said, feeling his brow with a slender hand, as if checking for fever.

Harlen chuckled and grabbed her about her tiny waist and lifted her to his lap, where she curled tidily against him, kissing his neck and chin, cooing.

There was a light rap upon her chamber's door, then it opened, and Wendy peered in. "So, you two are awake," she observed. She was holding some cloth folded in her arms, stepping through the doorway. "I bear gifts from the folk of Embalis for Harlen, the hero!" declared Wendy, unfurling one piece of the cloth with a flourish.

It was a silken tunic, of a deep green hue, with silver trim about the hem, throat, and cuffs. "What's this?" asked Harlen, still sitting with his pleasant burden upon his lap.

The elven maiden reached out and took it gently, then looked at it. "It is something to wear for the festivities tonight," she said. "And you will be marked as a 'taken' man, I see." She smiled at Wendy. "And where is your gown, soldier of Morrovale?" she asked.

The petite human handed Hyandai the matching pants that went with Harlen's new tunic. She then unfurled a third cloth bundle; a long blue gown, identical to Hyandai's, of shimmering evening blue silk, with the slimmest of silver trim about the collar, hem, and cuffs.

"You are marked?" asked Hyandai.

Wendy gave an embarrassed smile. "In a manner, yes," she said, eyeing the couple. "Until you two tire of my company, I doubt I will be seeking a lover."

Hyandai's eyes grew soft and she uncurled from Harlen's lap, embracing the young woman. She kissed her, gentle at first, then with more passion. "Do not deny yourself for our benefit," she murmured into the girl's thick, dark hair. "We would never ask it of you."

Wendy took on a look of thoughtfulness. "And give up two lovers for one?" she scoffed. "I think not. No, you will have to send me away." She adopted the air of a petulant child, crossing her arms and sticking out her lower lip.

Hyandai giggled at this display, and kissed the distended lip. "You are not going to be sent away, and I think we will all have to speak long on this matter," she announced. "But, tonight, we will feast and revel in our victory. Tomorrow, we will mourn the passing of the fallen, and give honor to their spirits."

"Do I have no say in this?" asked Harlen, eyeing the two lovely women dubiously. "Or am I simply outvoted?"

Hyandai adopted a conspiratorial tone and tilted her head toward Wendy. "He has just heard of being claimed by two of the prettiest women in Morrovale. Yet, he wishes to discuss terms?"

His dubious expression cracked within seconds. "Not so much terms, as privileges," said Harlen. "I would know whence I stand."

"You, Harlen, are betrothed," explained Wendy, "to the Lady Hyandai." She gave a playful and graceful wave toward Hyandai, who bowed with a flourish.

"However," Hyandai interrupted, "WE have a girlfriend." She pointed to Wendy, who also lowered her trunk in a playful bow and flashed a broad smile.

Harlen smiled, but retained a somewhat confused expression. "And if something happens?" he asked. "Such as, perhaps, a child?"

Wendy blinked a moment, but Hyandai stepped in helpfully. "Such a blessing would be most welcome," she said, "would it not?"

Harlen and Wendy both rather gaped a moment, then Wendy spoke first. "I love both of you. As you suspected, Hyandai, I longed for Harlen long ago," she said, "and would now, were he available to me." Her brow wrinkled with thought. "I also love you, now, Hyandai," she added, "and would not wish to lose either of you. Of course, I wish to bear children one day, and would not mind that day being soon." She smiled sheepishly at Harlen. "One willing."

Hyandai smiled. "This is foreign to you two, is it not?" she asked. "Perhaps I ask too much, oddity, in our relations." She sat in the chair again. "Or too soon, at the least," she concluded.

There was a long pause while the three took counsel with their individual thoughts. Then Wendy spoke. "What is the elven way of it?" she asked.

"When an elven couple has one that is melethan, or dual-natured, as I am," said Hyandai. "They often take in a third partner of a compatible nature as a ledet'saerunim. A 'third lover.'" She looked at Wendy, then at Harlen. "The ledet'saerunim is a full member of the partnership, at that point, and there is a ceremony among the three." She smiled wanly. "It is a binding thing, like a marriage, well, I guess it IS marriage."

Harlen had risen while she spoke, listening with alert ears, while also donning his new finery. "Do they work out?" he asked.

Hyandai smiled. "Of course," she said. "They simply take a bit more effort, as there are three egos at play." She looked at the two. "My question is this: Would your people in Morrovale accept such a union?"

"The church, no," said Harlen, "the people, yes, conditionally."

Wendy nodded agreement. "There are some nonstandard 'arrangements' in Morrovale already, and they are accepted," she said. "The people, I suppose, were exposed to such three-way relationships in the past." Wendy chuckled. "Probably by elves, come to think of it." Again, she looked at Hyandai. "The third is euphemistically called a handmaiden."

Harlen chuckled. "You mean that those aren't really handmaidens?" he asked.

Eyes wide, Wendy regarded him. "You are joking?" she asked.

"Yes," replied Harlen, "I am. I simply wonder if you are able to live with such a title?"

"If being a 'handmaiden' is what it takes to retain my two newfound lovers," said Wendy, "then a 'handmaiden' I shall be. At least then the rumors of my being a lesbian will be laid to rest." Her face grew somewhat sour. "Or so some men have been saying since I returned from Ghant and did not immediately accept their advances."

Hyandai giggled. "By confirming you are melethan?" she asked.

Wendy placed a series of gentle kisses upon the elf's neck, at the same time, she ran one slim hand down Hyandai's belly toward the joining of her long legs. "Somehow that will only make men more interested in me, rather than scare them off," she said, laying her head upon Hyandai's shoulder.

Harlen's eyes widened at her forwardness. "I can see why," he said in a soft voice, his organ stirring in his pants.

Wendy and Hyandai both looked at him with half-lidded eyes. The two looked more like sisters than Hyandai and Loskenhaur did, in reality.

"So, Harlen, would you accept me as 'handmaiden' and ledet'saerunim?" asked Wendy.

A moment passed while he thought. "I would be foolish not to," he concluded. "As Hyandai pointed out, you two ARE the most beautiful women Morrovale has to offer, and impressive, even without that beauty."

Hyandai reached out, took his hand, and pulled him toward them and they embraced each with one arm about the other two. "Then we will do so," she said. "It is good to have a plan."

Wendy pulled back. "I need to dress for the festivities," she said with sudden worry. "They will begin soon, and we've spent the time babbling." Her chain mail hauberk was shed almost in an instant as she began disrobing in a flurry of activity. It was amazing how much clothing someone going to war tended to wear, Harlen noted, watching her shed layer after layer of armor, padding, vambraces, grieves, and clothes.

At last, though, she was nude, and Hyandai gasped at her shaven privates. "When did you start that?" she asked, smiling.

"The day after you and Harlen and I met," said Wendy, looking down at where Hyandai's focus was.

Hyandai nodded. "Interesting," she observed.

Wendy slithered into the form-fitting silk gown and ran her hands over it, settling the garment into place over her slender body. She wriggled in a sultry manner. 

"Wow," she said, "this thing really shows a girl off." She peered down over her slender body and at how it hugged every curve and sank into any low areas. Her prominent lower abdomen was displayed very sensually.

Hyandai clucked at her. "Well, you are slightly more, well, formed, than an elven lady of your years," she said, trying in vain to put a sound of jealousy in her voice, it sounded rather more like desire.

Harlen blinked at the two of them. "I'd be happy to hold the arm of either of you," he said, sitting and admiring their long forms covered in clinging silk.

Elven fingers flitted through Wendy's hair, untangling knots that the battle had wrought upon the girl's dark tresses. Within a few brief minutes, Hyandai had woven her hair into long braids that ran around the curve of Wendy's skull and formed long, slender ropes down the back of her neck.

Wendy giggled. "By the One, you're quick with those fingers!" she exclaimed, looking at herself in a hand mirror.

Hyandai kissed her bared neck. "You have no idea." She said in a deeper tone, with some small measure of menace to it, then she looked up at Wendy with deep green eyes.

They groomed themselves for a short while; preparing to go forth to face the music they heard drifting up from below. Soon, they were ready, and Harlen opened the door and watched the two appealing visions in blue silk float past. They preceded him down the narrow stair to the ground, with Wendy hugging the inner side of the staircase where it spiraled down the thick tree's trunk. From the rather short-breathed way she sighed upon reaching the ground, Harlen realized how much effort it must have cost her to even come up the tree to them.

At the base, he stood confused for a moment while the women sorted themselves to either side of him and took his arms. "But how will I drink?" asked Harlen, looking with concern down at his two occupied arms.

"Very little," said Hyandai. "You need to keep your wits about you, you shall have great demands put upon you this night." She winked across his chest at Wendy, who raised her eyebrows and brought her head up and down, like an elven head bow.

Harlen made a slight whimpering sound while they manhandled him and aimed him for the festivities, a glowing area toward the center of the village.

They arrived at the edge of the gathering at the same time the music was changing. The dance area cleared, and the music settled into something that was meant to be heard and appreciated, but not danced to. People milled about the tables, laden with a huge supply of foodstuffs, elven delicacies, Harlen assumed, and even many varieties of Morrovalian fare, like a rather ostentatious roast boar on a bed of sliced apples.

In normal circumstances, elven folk were not overt carnivores, most often, they consumed their limited meat intake in stews, and less often, pies. However, after the fever of battle and the strong emotions of the day, the boar was showing much sign of depletion. Many elves were seen with chunks of the meat upon their platters, just as often as the humans at the gathering.

Despite their best efforts, different people seemed to contrive to split the trio up, engaging them in cross-purpose conversations and random interactions of newcomers and outgoing participants. Harlen soon found himself facing Tammer and the Lord of Embalis, Ircandann.

"Master Tammer here has informed me that he has gotten, already, over two dozen requests from various huntsmen to stay and study our ways," said Ircandann, smiling. "I suppose, it may be high time that the training of rangers recommenced."

Harlen chuckled. "I imagine that a majority of those 'volunteers' were also single males," he said.

Ircandann blinked a couple of times. "Yes, I believe most of them were," he said, then paused again. "Ah," he sighed. "I see." He leaned in close to the two humans and, in a confidential tone said, "That will not be so bad, either, then, for truthfully, we have not nearly as many men, after the battle, as women." He stood upright again. "While not a mournful first thought, a leader must also think of the pragmatic points."

Tammer smiled. "Why do you think I volunteered, back in my day?" he said. "Nothing like young women to attract young men."

"So long as they are not thought opportunistic." Harlen said, looking at Lord Ircandann with appraising eyes.

Lord Ircandann's expression bordered on shock. "Never!" he said with certainty. "They are heroes to the people of Embalis. They have risked their very lives to protect ours." He shook his head. "It is reasonable that they should wish to feel welcome in a town that would not exist if not for their actions." He smiled. "I am certain the people of Embalis share my feelings in this." 

Ircandann pointed to Harlen's left with his chin. Following the lord's gaze, he saw Regas, one of the more eligible bachelor huntsmen standing nearby, with three young elven ladies speaking to him in a tight knot.

Harlen nodded. "I see," he said. He caught sight of Hyandai for the first time in several minutes. She was conversing with her sister and two other elven women, who were giggling while Loskenhaur was busy blushing and covering her eyes. Harlen smiled and waved when she looked up and caught sight of him.

Hyandai, for her part, made a very subtle gesture to his left. He looked that direction to see Wendy, standing alone. It seemed that the elven lads were frightened of the human women, unlike the human males' fascination with elven women. He glanced back at Hyandai, and was rewarded with a look of undeniable clarity informing him to go to Wendy, now.

A dutiful mate, to both women, no less, Harlen went to Wendy's side. He slipped an arm around her and kissed her smooth shoulder. "Hello, beautiful lady," he said, placing much softness into his voice.

She smiled up at him. "I'm okay, Harlen," she said. "Don't let me interfere with the revelries."

"You cannot," said Harlen, his expression earnest. "That would imply that you could, in some way, diminish a good thing." He shook his head.

Wendy pressed into him and put one hand upon his encircling arm. "Hyandai certainly has taught you smooth words," she said with an appreciative sigh. "I cannot wait to hear them in elven."

"Probably not too long," ventured Harlen, "before you can do just that." He looked around the crowd. "I've been learning quite a lot of elven from Hyandai."

A slow nod from Wendy was his reply. "I wish to learn it, as well," she said. "It's a lovely language."

"Are you really happy with the 'handmaiden' arrangement?" asked Wendy.

Harlen blinked at her, having, himself, for once, been caught flatfooted by a non sequitur.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked. "I mean it when I say you two are the most desirable women in the land."

Wendy chuckled. "That would make me a distant number two of the top two, then," she murmured. "Hyandai is gorgeous."

"Bullshit!" spat Harlen. "You're extremely pretty. Hell, had I known you were in town, I would have come to see you right off, even if Tammer had tried to bribe me away." Harlen let out a low laugh. "I thought, when I was fourteen, that my heart would break in two when you left."

He paused a long moment. "It rather peeves me a bit, actually," said Harlen, "that there is not a bit more difference in the looks of you two, Hyandai and you. A bit of variety, if you will."

She giggled at that. "Well, I have round ears," offered Wendy, "and a bigger bu . . . "

Wendy was interrupted by Tammer mounting a table and ringing a small bell. The old ranger reached into his pocket and pulled out that odd glowing green stone that Harlen had seen before the battle. He held it to his throat and began speaking.

"People of Embalis!" pronounced Tammer. "Hear me. This day, a glorious day, where an old alliance of men and elves has been tried once again, and has been shown to amount to more than the sum of its parts." He was turning to take in the gathered folk about him, revolving in a slow circle. "I have been asked to give leave to allow some portion of the company of Rangers of Morrovale to stay in Embalis, for manifold reasons. This I have the authority to do, but only for a year and a day, as stipulated by the old agreements."

Harlen felt Hyandai's hand upon his arm. He turned to look at her smiling face.

"Fifty volunteers have offered to stay, and I feel that is a manageable number that the duke will not be too wroth to surrender," continued Tammer. "However, it is necessary for the people of Embalis to provide them with training in exchange for the time they sacrifice from their professions."

"Among other, less tangible, benefits," said Hyandai, in a low stage whisper at Harlen's elbow. Harlen put his arm around his betrothed and pulled her to him.

"Shush," murmured Harlen, pulling Hyandai close, "you'll ruin his moment." 

Hyandai whispered into his ear. "The elves are eager to have them, Harlen, let them not fool you," she whispered. "There is already a bit of hen squabbling going on between some of the women over the fifty that are staying."

"Did so many men die?" asked Harlen in a low voice.

"Not quite," replied Hyandai. "Those men are heroes right now; a very desirable commodity. There will be elf-lads unaccompanied to bed tonight, though, admittedly, not many. The fool Isolationists forced many more people into the Warwolf camp, though. Most of them would now be either dead or displaced, were it not for human assistance. It rather drives the point home."

Harlen thought a moment. "And a Warwolf precept is the intermingling of human and elven bloodlines and cultures," he said, his eyes widening in recognition.

"Exactly," said Hyandai, with a smile.

"Why do I feel I may have been manipulated?" accused Harlen, his eyes gaining a small measure of real suspicion.

"No, beloved," replied Hyandai, stroking his arm. "You have not been used. Perhaps I was, but given the outcome, I resent it not." 




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 21



He looked down at the exceptional woman on his arm and at her deep green eyes. There was no duplicity there; all he saw was affection for him, and for Wendy, when Hyandai turned her eyes to the younger woman.

Wendy had been listening to their conversation and leaned in. "Will not the elven blood thin among us more numerous humans?" she asked.

"Somewhat," said Hyandai. "But not utterly. Elven blood is thick, indeed, and signs of it may appear far into the depths of even the most dispersed bloodline."

Tammer had finished his speech to a polite applause from the humans and elves about him. He stepped down from the table and put the green stone in his pocket. "What is that thing?" asked Harlen, looking at Wendy. "The glowing stone."

"It translates words into the native tongue of the hearer," replied Wendy. "I used it when we were moving alongside the traitor forces before the gates to speak with their commander's aide."

Harlen nodded. "I saw that," he said. "You would be the only human among the lot who could pass for an elf on sight."

"It is a tana'yondo," said Hyandai. "A speaking stone." Then she giggled. "We used to sell those to humans, as well, like the calyondos. They were quite dear, I am told."

After the speech, the festivities moved into gear again. Most of the underage participants, with the exception of a few of the eldest juveniles had departed for bed, and the revelries moved to a more mature level. Dance music was again played, and the clear patch of ground amid the glowing lamps filled with people moving with slow grace. A majority elven, but no few humans attempted the complex and rather demanding steps.

This entertained the elven folk a great deal, though the humans were quick studies, and the dance looked more complex than it, in actuality, was. Hyandai grabbed Wendy's hand and pulled her toward the dance area.

"You dance, too?" asked Harlen. This question was rewarded by a look from Hyandai and Wendy both of profound disbelief.

"Harlen," said Wendy, with infinite patience, "she's an elf."

Hyandai giggled. "Yes, Harlen, of course I dance," she said. "And you will too, very soon. For what man betrothed to an elf cannot dance?"

They ran into the dancing area and moved together, bodies held close and spinning about. Harlen soon figured out why this portion of the celebration had been saved for after the departure of the junior attendees. The moves were very sultry and some would have scandalized Morrovale society for weeks. 

"If you hurt her, I will turn you into a fine stew," said the voice of Tammer from just behind Harlen.

The huntsman turned to regard his old mentor. "I would never consider it," he said. "Your granddaughter is as precious to me as Hyandai."

"I know," said Tammer. "That is the only reason I give you three my blessings." His old eyes were misty. "And even then, Harlen, it is not easy to say. My Oneian teachings scream that it is not quite right." He paused a moment, watching the two beautiful women dance. "She seems very happy, though, happier than since she returned from Ghant." His face took on a rather feeble stern look. "She moped for most of four months, since that day. I am gladdened to see her smiling and laughing, even if it means welcoming a lout into my family."

"And an elf," added Harlen.

"Yes, and an elf," repeated Tammer. "My poor family tree will be chock full of vagabonds and forest frolickers." His face took on a sudden look of hypothetical alarm. "Just how the hell does one represent a three-way arrangement in a family tree, tell me that, Master Harem?"

"More branches?" replied Harlen, shrugging. "Ask Hyandai, she's a scribe and an elf, and she says it's not all that rare in their communities."

"I'll do just that," said Tammer, his face now adopting a satisfied air, having been handed a quite sensible solution. "I only somewhat envy you, boy. You have heard the old saw about 'serving two masters'?" The elder huntsman chuckled. "You may find two Mistresses an even sorer trial," he concluded.

Wendy was fast approaching Harlen, and Hyandai was now twirling off with her brother leading, they seemed deep in discussion even while they executed the graceful motions of the dance.

"I cannot fault you, my sister, for your choice in a man," said Ceriandel. "He is a good man, from all I hear, and I will welcome him as a brother, should that be your choice." He dipped Hyandai with the grace and practice of two who learned to dance together.

Hyandai smiled. "Thank you, dear brother," she said. "He is a good man, and I love him, I will be wedding him after the year."

Ceriandel looked over at Harlen. "Why do you wish to wait?" he asked. "The year is a simple formality, one that is oft disregarded."

She spun away from him, then back, stopping with expert grace just short of slamming into him with her back. "There is much non formal in our relationship," said Hyandai. "I wish for as much to be 'by the rules' as I can manage."

Wendy took Harlen's hand and guided him onto the floor. "Now, your turn, lover," she said, giving him a toothy, predatory grin. Harlen was not much of a dancer, but he was agile enough and learned the mechanics within minutes. Soon, he was making passable, if not graceful, motions that resembled the dance steps to a large degree.

It helped a lot that Wendy was quite good, and had learned the dance well already. She was also quick-reflexed and avoided any missteps that Harlen committed that might have resulted in crushed feet. When Harlen spun her back in from the extended outward fling, he used a bit too much force, though, and they both went stumbling when she slammed into his chest at speed with her back and shoulders. This drew a smattering of applause from other dancers nearby and a few catcalls from other huntsmen declaring Harlen the 'night's most graceful moose'.

Harlen long ago learned that women responded quite well to the attempt of a man to dance, something most men were just not trained to do. If a man danced well, he would find himself at the end of a long line of women waiting to dance, and never be able to spend any time with any one of them. However, if he was JUST good enough, he would manage to keep a partner for several dances, and then resulting conversation and, with luck, companionship.

Most of the elven women seemed to have no compunction about dancing with one another, even the stimulating 'high contact' dances that were more intimate than some.

This led to much muttering among small knots of huntsmen. At least, until Tammer explained that it might just be better for one or two men to get in there and wedge themselves between the women before they get too interested in one another. Then the huntsmen find themselves keeping their wineskin company for the night.

Hyandai had managed to cut in on Wendy and was now facing Harlen. They moved over the soft grass. "My brother approves of you now," she said, smiling up at him.

"I'm glad. I was hoping I wouldn't have to tie him up for the wedding," replied Harlen, glancing over at Ceriandel, who was speaking to Maegan and Tessa again. He appeared to be unsuccessfully avoiding being fussed over by the two much-taller women.

She giggled. "I might pay good money to see that," admitted Hyandai.

The tempo of the gathering dropped down a notch. Many of the revelers broke off to watch the prisoners being escorted into a makeshift stockade by their huntsman guards. The added fifty humans among the gathering shifted the numbers where the human attendees outnumbered the elven now. Ten humans and ten elves were assigned to keep watch over the prisoners, and they rotated out every hour to ensure that everyone got a chance to enjoy most of the gathering.

The imprisoned Isolationists were beside themselves at the sight of humans and elves intermingling in a large group. They hurled curses and insults until a loyalist wizard silenced the lot of them with a well-placed spell that knocked them all unconscious. This drew cheers from all assembled for the somnamancer, who was given a hero's welcome back to the festivities.

By the time the moon was at the peak of its path, the number of celebrants was much reduced. Some were to be found scattered about the grounds, in various states of repose. More, it seemed, had wandered away from the main gathering in pairs.

Hyandai bit her lip while she guided Harlen and Wendy up the stairs toward her chamber.

"Something bothers you, beloved?" asked Harlen.

She gave a hesitant smile. "I was just doing some calculations in my head, dear," she replied. "I hope the village will not mind about half a dozen births in about nine months, perhaps more, given human fecundity."

Harlen blinked at her a moment. 

"Humans get pregnant easier, or rather," corrected Hyandai, "make elves pregnant more readily than other elves would."

"A half dozen, half elven children?" asked Wendy.

Hyandai nodded, and smiled. "Only we call them half human."

"Perhaps that is one of the obstacles that needs to be overcome," Harlen said, his eyes distant. "They won't be half of anything. The name is misleading, from both sides."

Hyandai shrugged. "Things cannot be changed instantly, betrothed," she said, then kissed his neck.

They had reached her chamber, and Hyandai opened the door. She let Wendy and Harlen pass in, and looked about, and down at the remaining revelers and smiled before following them.

Harlen snatched her from behind when she passed him, causing her to emit a happy squeal. Wendy, for her part came at Hyandai from the front and pressed her own slender body to the elf's even slimmer form. They exchanged a soft kiss, but a thorough one, while Harlen kissed her long neck, running his hands down her sides. Wendy's hands were on Harlen's arms, feeling the motion of the muscles under the skin.

Hyandai sighed when she felt the younger woman's lips move to her throat. "So, this is what it felt like that first night?" she asked, watching Wendy.

Wendy nodded and smiled. Moving her small hands to the hem of Hyandai's silken dress and taking hold of it. She stood back up, lifting the dress and baring Hyandai's compact body as she did so. Wendy brushed her full lips over Hyandai's thigh, her hip, her belly, one breast, and to her shoulder, moving to each as it was bared.

Before Wendy could begin to kiss her way back downward, Hyandai took hold of the waist of the gown the younger woman was still wearing. As the girl kissed her way down Hyandai's body, this time, more thoroughly, the dress inched upward, until she reached Hyandai's navel, where the elf lifted her arms and the dress over Wendy's head.

Wendy then knelt and moved her head forward, between Hyandai's slender thighs, pressing her open mouth to the elf's entrance, and sliding her tongue inside.

Hyandai moved her legs apart and gasped, then felt Harlen's kisses on her neck. She reached up with both arms and each hand grabbed her other wrist upon wrapping them around his neck. "Stand up, beloved," whispered Hyandai.

Harlen stood, holding Hyandai by her slim waist. Hyandai's feet left the floor, and she moved her legs apart. She bent her knees back to wrap her shins around Harlen's powerful legs, and then turned her feet inward, to lock them behind his knees.

Wendy now had total access to Hyandai's innermost places, and made good use of that, burying her tongue inside the soft folds of flesh, then into the tight slit, opening her mouth wide and sucking as she ran her tongue over the moist entrance.

Hyandai groaned into Harlen's ear and kissed it, feeling his stiffening cock against her taut backside while he held her aloft for long moments without complaint. She could hear a soft, wet sound from below and looked down to see Wendy sliding two fingers into herself, then move her other hand to Hyandai's entrance, feeding Hyandai's opening two fingers, as well, even as Wendy continued to lap and kiss her.

Hyandai bucked against the intruding digits, and pushed outward from Harlen's body. She could feel Harlen's grip tighten and knew he would hold her through her impending climax.

Wendy kept at it, locking her lips to Hyandai as if she were feeding, her small, quick tongue moved faster and her fingers began to curl and move inward and back out inside the elf.

The tension in Hyandai's body built and mounted until she neither could, nor desired to constrain herself. Every muscle in her arms, legs, and back flexed with impressive power, causing Harlen to tighten his grip to avoid dropping Hyandai when her arms unlocked from his neck. She screamed, calling out some elven phrase she had not taught him yet.

A few seconds later, her body went limp in his hands, her legs let loose his knees and drooped together as Wendy moved back, with a self-satisfied grin on her pretty face, along with a glistening sheen of Hyandai's juices.

Hyandai gasped. "Spirits save me," she whispered. "I may have taken on one human too many."

Harlen walked over to her bed and, with reverence, placed Hyandai upon it, cradling her head onto the soft pillow. 

She stroked his face with her fingertips while Harlen stood back up. "A moment only, beloved," she said, sinking into the pillow and sighing.

Harlen stood upright again, and Wendy's hands appeared around his waist, unfastening his belt. "We mere mortals can entertain ourselves for a nonce," said Wendy, lowering his trousers as Harlen kicked off the soft shoes the elves had given him.

Hyandai's eyes widened with interest. "I am going to be startled every time I see your manhood," she murmured, reaching out and stroking the upright member with a very soft touch. It twitched visibly at the contact.

The small, slim hands of Wendy then returned and lifted Harlen's tunic over his head, while she giggled. "Is that elf taking advantage of things I uncover?" she complained in a playful tone.

Harlen nodded and Hyandai smirked, leaning forward and licking the hard cock in her hand, running her tiny tongue over the round head.

Wendy moved around. "Ah-ha!" she exclaimed. "Unmouth that prick, temptress!" she said even while she was moving to sit beside Hyandai on the bed and using her mouth to kiss and lick the long shaft behind Hyandai's hand.

Hyandai pulled her mouth from around the wide head, with an audible pop. "I wager I can consume more than you," she said with an almost snide tone.

The human girl's eyes widened. "Bested by a tiny elf-girl on a contest of dimensions?" she scoffed. "I think not."

The elf held Harlen's cock toward Wendy. "Vanquished first," she said with half-lidded eyes and looking down her nose toward the human.

Harlen watched on with great interest registering in his blue eyes.

Wendy made great show of preparing herself for her attempt. She brushed her silken hair from her brow and behind her ears, which were somewhat extended from her head and made a handy place to wedge errant strands. She then examined his organ with an air of detachment, taking great care in measuring its girth and length.

"Here we go," she said in a hushed tone, moving forward and then opening her lips wide to take the thick pole in. 

Her head moved forward for almost half the length of his member, then ran into the back of her palete. She forced more inward, lifting her body upward to straighten her neck, giving his cock a direct passage down her throat. Wendy moved forward another two inches, then coughed, pulling back with watering eyes. Wendy rocked back onto her heels and giggled amid more coughing.

"Mark my spot!" squealed Wendy, still giggling between coughs. "No cheating."

Hyandai assumed a very professional look as she took her quill from her desk and marked the side of Harlen's shaft with a narrow black line. She was very thorough, and moved the quill all the way around his shaft until it formed a black ring about his organ, only two inches from its base in the nest of dark curling hairs.

Wendy leaned back in. "Wow, I took that much?" she wondered.

"Indeed, a worthy attempt," complimented Hyandai, "for an amateur."

Harlen managed to keep a straight face throughout all this.

"Amateur?" shrieked Wendy. "Let's see you do better, with that willowy neck, you'll be lucky to take even half of him."

"We shall see," said Hyandai in a dismissive tone.

She took his stiff organ, giving it a few long, slow strokes to ensure fairness and full erection. Hyandai began taking him into her mouth, moving in one even, slow motion. When his swollen head pressed against her throat, she swallowed while she continued moving, and swallowed again and again, it slid down her stretched throat with slow certainty.

Wendy gasped. "By the One, Hyandai!" she said, amazed. His thick cock was causing her slender neck to distend a bit. However, she pressed on downward until his entire length was buried in her mouth and throat, his pubic hairs about her slender nose and his heavy testicles pressed to her chin. She then shoved her head forward, taking a remaining half-inch of 'nose room,' flattening her nose into his pelvis.

"I am bested." Wendy said, hanging her head down in mock shame.

Hyandai pulled back in another long even motion, his bulbous helmet popping out lastly, the entire length of the shaft glistening with moisture. 

"Why could you not do it?" asked Hyandai. "I saw you do so that first night."

"His manhood curves upward, when he did it before we faced opposite directions, and it went down smoothly," explained Wendy. She showed Hyandai his curvature by gripping his cock in a fist and pulling on it and stroking the top with her free hand.

Hyandai nodded with a look of interest on her face, also reaching out to stroke Harlen's organ as they spoke.

"Well, I rather owe Harlen a release," Wendy said after they spoke a few moments. "He satisfied me quite thoroughly the other day prior to us deciding to wait for you."

Hyandai looked up at Harlen with accusative eyes. "Wait for me?" she asked. "I explicitly gave you two permission to make love in my absence."

Both shrugged. "We wanted you with us," said Harlen.

She giggled. "Well, then, I will watch you two now," said Hyandai. She scooted back onto the bed, sat with her back to the headboard, and crossed her arms over her knees. "Go on," she goaded, watching them with her large green eyes.

Wendy leaned forward with no hesitation. "This first, then," she said, taking Harlen into her warm mouth. Harlen groaned in time with Wendy's movements. Her lips formed a tight seal around the middle of his thick shaft. She then began to move back and forth, with enough speed and enthusiasm that her hair moved into disarray within seconds. Harlen groaned and put his hands upon Wendy's small skull, pulling her inward with a bit more force.

Hyandai smiled, and uncurled from the headboard and moved off the bed, behind Harlen. She reached between his thick legs and palmed his scrotum with her hand, squeezing his testicles in a soft grip, then rolling them around each other with her cool fingertips.

With a massive grunt, Harlen came into Wendy's pumping mouth, filling it with his seed, her eyes opened wide at the sheer volume of semen that flooded into her. She gave forth a small squeak before taking a long swallow, finally pulling back, and smiling up at Harlen. "Backlogged?" Wendy asked, gasping for air. "Or just making up for us waiting?"

Harlen wore a blank stare for a moment, then blinked. "Um. Yes?" he asked.

---

"You're certain?" asked Tammer, looking at the prisoners' paddock, and at the slumbering Isolationists.

Warrik nodded. "Yes, Master Tammer," he replied, "there were two-hundred and twelve at the traitor camp, and there are only two-hundred and three now."

A moment passed as the old huntsman thought. "But none of the escort is missing?" asked Tammer.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 21



"No," the huntsman shook his head. "We're all accounted for."

"Right," said Tammer. Then he turned to Lord Ircandann. "You should inform your patrolling scouts, if I may advise milord. Those nine don't know the Isolationists lost. They may try something foolish."

Ircandann gave a quick, curt nod and murmured something to his new aide. That worthy took off at a jog toward the throne pavilion with a quick head bow. "I only hope that those who left the festivities and went into the wood are safe," the elven lord said, his face marked by deep worry.

"Me too, but short of panicking the whole village," said Tammer, "I don't see how we can recall them quickly."

---

The urgent pounding upon Hyandai's chamber door caused Harlen to turn suddenly in his sleep, this pushed Wendy, who was between Harlen and Hyandai, and caused Hyandai to flail about when she awoke tumbling off the small bed. She landed on her rump with a solid thunk onto the hardwood floor.

"What is it?" asked Hyandai, a tone of massive impatience in her normally placid voice.

An elven voice responded, "Lady, there is a small problem that needs Master Harlen's attention."

Harlen sat up. "Speak Westron, please," he said, having picked his name out of the elf's melodious babble.

"Master Harlen," came the accented reply, "Master Tammer would see you, as soon as may be."

Harlen emitted an immense sigh. "Very well, where do I meet him?" he asked.

"In the Royal Pavilion," the voice replied, muffled by the door and by the sound of Hyandai crawling back into the bed. The three had played a roughy, and for a long while; she was very tired.

Harlen slipped on his pants and boots while Hyandai watched with a worried expression. Wendy seemed to be able to sleep through almost any amount of noise.

"I have no idea," answered Harlen to Hyandai's unspoken question.

Hyandai's lips formed into a wan smile. "I know, beloved," she said. "Send for Wendy and I if you need us."

Nodding, Harlen pulled his tunic down over himself and grabbed his cloak and sword belt in passing toward the door. He slipped through the door and was belting the broadsword to his waist while walking the catwalk toward the ramps downward. He had managed to don the cloak against the morning chill before he had reached the stairs for the last leg of his vertical trek to the ground.

The sky was just beginning to brighten the eastern sky, and that sky promised rain this day, with heavy-bellied clouds looming low as they moved in from the south. Harlen crossed the field between the bottom of the stair and the pavilion at a jog to find Tammer, and over a dozen huntsmen, most of them the seniors among Harlen's profession. Ircandann was also there, along with a half dozen elven scouts. All the huntsmen and scouts were armed.

"What passes?" asked Harlen, approaching the large group of people.

Tammer smiled. "Good, you're conscious," he said, only half joking.

The huntsman pointed to the assembled men. "Trouble?" he asked.

"Of a sort, yes," replied Tammer. "Not that we know for sure there is any at all. Some of the prisoners from the Isolationist camp are missing. And we've some people who left the party to 'walk in the woods' last night." He chewed his lip. "We think they all had elven 'guides' for their little foray into the wilds, but we need them back in town, for their own safety."

Harlen surveyed the assembled huntsmen. Of course, they were the elder huntsmen, and all married. It made sense, decided Harlen; they would have been the first to bed down and would have done so in the barracks that had been provided for the 'rangers.' The alarming thought that crossed his mind next was that now HE was one of them. A wry smile crossed his face. He supposed it was not so bad.

The huntsmen and elves gathered into groups of one elf and two huntsmen and headed in different directions, planning to canvass the forest near the village. Harlen was with one such group, along with a huntsman named Krieger.

Krieger was a good enough fellow, but spoke horrid Westron. He was an immigrant from the Southern Realms. Big, broad-shoulders, and a massive appetite for beer. His florid, broad face, and shock of thick blond hair always made him look like he had just been awakened from the floor of a bar.

Their elven guide introduced himself as Ithiovol. He gave a curt nod and then turned and headed for their designated search area. The elf spoke over his shoulder at the two following humans.

"We have a particularly tricky area," said Ithiovol. "The wood around Tervilith Pond. There are many grottoes around it and it is a favorite trysting place for lovers." This last statement was accompanied by a slight turn of his head and a knowing grin. "We will have to use discretion as we search."

Harlen realized he had not picked up his bow. With any luck, he would not need the thing, anyway. Somehow, that thought did not comfort him.

They reached the lake and, within minutes, found a couple nesting in the tall grasses near the shore of the glittering lake. A quick conversation from Ithiovol with the elven woman and the couple was dressing and heading toward Embalis.

He smiled upon returning to the pair of humans. "I knew this spot would be occupied," said Ithiovol with a gleam in his eye. "I once courted that lady." He giggled while Harlen and Krieger laughed, and they headed around the lake, moving clockwise down its shore.

Next, they came across a couple that was cuddling beneath a small tree, a white gown fluttered in the breezes of morning from one branch. Ithiovol and Harlen were both prepared to extract answers as to why someone had violated the age limits the elves had placed upon willing participants in the night's revelries. Up until they saw a likewise white tunic lying in the grass nearby. It was one of the elder apprentices, not a huntsman. According to the laws, if both were under their legal ages, all was fair.

The elf called to them in a quiet voice until a pretty face and a less pretty but equally alarmed face popped up from the grasses. "Get yourselves dressed and back to town, immediately," said the elven scout. "There may be trouble about."

The trio of searchers then moved off, giving the youths privacy to don their clothes. They managed to roust a half dozen couples before the sun lifted its glow over the horizon, just in time to be blotted out by heavy rain clouds.

The second half of their warning and search mission was miserable. The clouds then let loose and rain poured forth in soaking torrents. "I hope they're smart enough to go home now, at least," said Harlen. It was cold rain, and chilled him to the bone, even through his cloak.

Chuckling, the elf nodded. "Young lovers are oft fools, Master Harlen," he said, as if imparting sage advice.

Harlen agreed and the three sheltered under an wide elm for a short while, trying to warm up in vain. If the Isolationists were out scheming and plotting in this downpour, then they were the more dedicated and deserved to win was the general thought in Harlen's mind.

---

"Hyandai of clan Yavanaur, traitor to her people," the cold voice said, rousing Hyandai from her sleep with a shock. She blinked and looked down toward her feet, where the voice had come from.

An elf stood there, a sword in hand, with an expression of utter disgust on his face. 

"And bedded down with a human woman, additionally," he said, sneering at Wendy. She looked down at him with bleary eyes. "You really are a whore, are you not?" he asked, his face making a mock expression of incredulity.

"What the hell?" asked Wendy, finding her voice and blinking her eyes wide with realization.

The elven man yanked the coverlet from the bed. "Get up!" he said in a commanding voice, speaking Westron now. "Where is the Ehladrel?"

"I do not have it," said Hyandai standing in her nakedness before the hateful elf. Wendy stood on the other side of the bed, also nude. Neither woman tried to cover herself, knowing that he would just derive some sick pleasure from their attempt.

"Rather attractive, for a human," said the elf, appraising Wendy with his eyes. "Not a hulking brood bitch at all."

She stared at him with simmering eyes. "Have a good look, pervert," said Wendy.

The elf smiled and turned half toward Hyandai. "She breeds outside her species, and I am the pervert," he said, pointing with the sword at Hyandai.

Wendy moved with a speed that surprised even the two quick-witted elves. Her foot jerked upward, and from what looked like nowhere, a six-foot fighting spear appeared in her hands. The elf tried to react to the sudden motion, as Wendy let loose with a bloodcurdling war cry. If nothing else, this elf's plans of quiet subtlety were now ruined.

He turned to face her, bringing the sword up in a defensive motion and batting the point of the spear aside with a flick of the blade. He was good, and that was bad.

What he had not faced, though, in combat, was a woman willing to do anything to put her opponent down. He smiled and stepped in toward her, inside her spear's effective reach. In that same instant, she brought her foot up in a smooth arc.

Up, beneath the skirt of his chain mail hauberk the foot went, lifting the hem and impacting his genitals with all the force Wendy could muster, which was considerable in her heightened state of alarm.

The elf heeled over at the waist, screaming in pain as his testicles were brutalized by the woman's toes. There was a hollow snapping sound from beneath his hauberk and Wendy screamed, too. Hyandai moved then, pulling the Ehladrel from behind the headboard of her bed and letting it take her, fill her, and guide her.

The elven warrior started to lever himself upright with visible effort, and Wendy was trying to back up, limping, favoring her injured foot. He had no eyes for Hyandai right now, only for the naked human wench who had caused him great pain when he had all the advantages; she had ruined his plan, and he was going to kill her for that.

The Ehladrel hummed as it severed his arm at the shoulder. His slanted, silvern eyes widened, turning to face Hyandai. He croaked out half a syllable of something; it might have been a plea for mercy. But it was cut short by the point of the weapon piercing his sternum, rending through the chain mail as if it was just another layer of cloth and splitting his traitorous heart.

Wendy dropped the spear and grabbed for the post of the bed's footboard, trying to stay balanced with several broken toes. She looked up at Hyandai, and witnessed hard, callous eyes looking back at her. 

"Are you well enough, human?" asked Hyandai.

The young woman blinked at the elf. "What?" asked Wendy, worried now. "What's the matter with you, Hyandai?" She was now trying to back away from the naked elven girl, coated in droplets of blood, and holding a long, beautiful, and bloody weapon of obvious power.

Hyandai blinked and dropped the Ehladrel upon the bed. Her eyes, in an instant, softened and she ran to Wendy, embracing her.

Wendy began to cry. "You had almost the same look that elf had when you looked at me," she said into Hyandai's hair. "So cold."

Stroking Wendy's hair, Hyandai said, "I'm sorry, beloved Wendy. It was not me, it is the Ehladrel."

"It hates humans?" asked Wendy, her voice high and frightened sounding.

Hyandai shook her head. "I do not think it cares one way or the other about humans, actually," she said at a near whisper. "It only cares about elves."

The door to the room burst open, causing both women to jump and begin reaching for their weapons again. However, it was Tammer this time, with three huntsmen behind him, and a handful of village guardsmen.

"What the hell?" asked Tammer, echoing his granddaughter's sentiments from just minutes before. He looked down at the corpse of the Isolationist on the floor, and at the two nude women, then back at the corpse. "Make yourselves decent so we can clean this mess up," he groused, then smiled. "Glad you two are okay," he added, pulling the door shut.

Hyandai went to her small wardrobe and gave Wendy a skirt and half-tunic from within. "Here, I am sure you can wear my clothes," she said, smiling. "We can truly share everything."

They soon dressed and Hyandai helped Wendy to the door, holding up her right arm and keeping the young woman from having to use her injured foot.

The elf maiden opened the door, only to find Tammer still there, talking to the other huntsmen and the elven guards, too.

The knot of soldiers and rangers passed into the room, past the two women. "So, what's this about?" asked Tammer.

"He was an Isolationist," explained Hyandai. "I suppose they were trying one last time, to seize the Ehladrel."

The elder ranger nodded. "And your foot?" asked Tammer, eyeing his granddaughter's swelling appendage.

"I kicked an armored man in the sack," said Wendy in a proud tone. "Just like you taught me to."

Tammer patted her head. "Now if only you'd do that to men who try to seduce you," he said, grinning. "But still, well done. If a broken foot is all you suffer in taking on an armored man in the nude, you're one hell of a fighter."

Wendy beamed under her grandfather's praise, and Hyandai smiled at her.

The soldiers and rangers lifted the body out of the room, with one carrying the severed arm. Hyandai stopped Tammer as he passed out the door. 

"Tammer, can you teach me to fight?" she asked. "I grow tired of being rescued by humans, I would like to be the heroine at some point." Her mind mulled over the fact that most of the threats to her life have been her own kind, elves, and her saviors, of late, have all been human, first Harlen, then Trevir, then all the huntsmen of Morrovale, and now Wendy.

The old ranger nodded. "I can teach you a few old tricks," said Tammer, patting her shoulder. "Though, from what Harlen says, when you have that thing," he pointed toward the Ehladrel, "you hardly need training."

Hyandai nodded. "But it is not something I relish, handling that weapon," she said. "It does not like humans much, and I, well, rather love them." She turned and kissed Wendy's brow.

Wendy smiled and said. "Can you heal my foot?" she asked.

Hyandai shook her head, still smiling. "Not unless you wish me to cut your foot open to breathe onto the bones," she replied.

A grimace crossed the young woman's face. "Um, no," replied Wendy.

"I will take you to the healers, we have a few for just such injuries, and other ailments," said Hyandai.

Wendy smiled. "First, I want some food," she said. "I am famished."

Hyandai's stomach emitted a rather alarming sound, and Wendy looked down at the elf's smooth belly with wide eyes. "Sounds like you could use food, too," she said. 

The expression on the pretty face of Hyandai was far from amused; she looked alarmed. Without warning, she ran for the catwalk railing, and then threw up over the side. A small part of her mind prayed that no one was below. She turned about afterward and faced Wendy.

"I thought surely that the nausea would pass when I let Verus go from my mind," said Hyandai, shaking her head. "I do not understand," her face wore an expression of immense worry.

Wendy looked at her, wearing an odd expression. "Nausea?" she asked. "As in vomiting every morning?"

Hyandai nodded, her expression miserable, and moving back toward Wendy. "Yes, most mornings, and sometimes other times of day," she said moving toward the pitcher of drinking water on the table.

Wendy began giggling.

Rinsing her mouth out with the water and spitting it into the washbasin, Hyandai turned and gave Wendy a peeved look. "I am glad you find my infirmity humorous." She said, with a measure of hurt in her voice.

Wiping tears form the corners of her eyes, Wendy stood upright with the assistance of the doorjamb. "I don't find your infirmity humorous, honey," said Wendy. "I find it humorous that you don't know what morning sickness is."

Hyandai blinked at her a moment. "What is morning sickness?" she asked.

Wendy fell into a fit of giggling for a moment again, then once again straightened. "Hyandai, you're pregnant," she said, stopping her giggles with an effort.

Still blinking and giving Wendy a dubious look, Hyandai asked, "How is me being ill related to being pregnant?"

"Don't you elves get morning sickness?" asked Wendy, eyes widening. "Lucky."

Shaking her head, Hyandai asked, "No. What is it?"

"Just part of being pregnant," answered Wendy. "Maybe it only happens to humans, or people with at least part human children."

"Why is this not common knowledge?" asked Hyandai, now upset. "A girl should know these things."

"I suspect human men don't go spreading it about to elven women, might scare them off," said Wendy, still stifling giggles. "I bet your healers know of it."

Hyandai looked down at the floor. "I have been refusing to see the healers," she said. "Foolishly, I thought it was disorientation from having another person's mind masking mine." She then looked up at Wendy. "You are certain of this?" asked Hyandai.

"Pretty much, yeah," replied Wendy, smiling.

Hyandai's face took on a broad smile. "Oh, my," said Hyandai, "I am with child."

The young woman nodded. "Probably," said Wendy. "Now, do you want to go see the healers, or midwives, or whatever you have here in Embalis?"

"Yes, very much," answered Hyandai, taking Wendy's arm again and draping it over her shoulder, then escorting her out the door.

---

Krieger grimaced at the downpour. "I am glad it is warmer in the wood," he observed. "This would be bad if in Morrovale, probably freezing rain." He pulled his cloak tighter about his shoulders and moved back toward the tree trunk, where Harlen and Ithiovol crouched.

"That's true," agreed Harlen. Ithiovol just nodded.

The trio had searched almost halfway around the remaining half of the lake before being driven into cover by hail. They had found one couple hiding under the boughs of a large beech tree and still entwined with each other, using a blanket for cover. Harlen told the couple to brave the storm and get back to Embalis, using the blanket to shield them, if need be.

Harlen very much doubted there were any more trysting couples to find this far from Embalis, but wanted to make sure. They would finish the circuit of the lake.

"What is that?" said Ithiovol in a whisper, pointing off to their right, away from the lake.

There were a dozen shapes, moving with silent motions beneath the trees, amid the underbrush. The shapes were hard to make out, the eye refused to focus upon them. Harlen blinked a few times, then looked at his own camouflaged cloak.

"I don't know," replied Harlen, "but I aim to find out." He rose from the crouch they had been in and moved off among the trees. "Stay put," he whispered to them.

Krieger and Ithiovol watched him, and drew arrows, placing them to the strings of their bows.

Harlen moved as fast as he dared among the shrubs, though it was easy to be quieter than the background noise of the rain. The shapes had stopped moving, and were gathered under another wide elm.

He approached as near as he thought safe and cupped his hands to his ears, trying to pick up on any sounds coming from the group. He could see them now, but the cloaks hid their forms.

A voice came back to him, then an answering voice. It was not elven they were speaking; it sounded much like the rather strong speech of the Abians, to the north of the Western Realms.

What the hell would Abians be doing here? Harlen thought.

One of the voices cried something out to the others. He had been found out. His eyes widened when the dozen shapes all moved with amazing speed, arms came up with bows in them, and arrows flew from quivers onto strings. Harlen had not even fully turned, and knew it was a hopeless cause.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 22



While the citizens of Embalis were glad of the arrival of the Windy Island Rangers, mood was somber this day, though as it was a day of mourning. The people greeted the newcomers with polite words, and with generous smiles and warm embraces, but slight was the joviality in the meeting. The rangers, for their part, noticed this subdued mood and restrained their natural exuberance.

Thirty-two of the Rangers of Morrovale and seventy-five of the elven guard and villagers had died. A hundred and seven small pyramids of wood were on the large field that had been the site of the battle. They had buried the, more than three hundred, traitors in the woods over three miles from the village. A geomancer had just opened a massive hole in the ground and the bodies laid at the bottom of it, and then he had refilled it. The priests said a prayer over the Isolationists' bodies, but none of the villagers mourned their passing, at least not in public.

It was, by far, the largest funeral that the citizens of this village, save a few who had fought on the Windy Isles, had ever seen. Some of them walked in silence among the pyramids of wood. They read the parchment attached to the foot of each, detailing the name and some part of the history of each fallen. The elves and men who moved among them were reverential, and many wept.

Seeing a widow of the battle being already comforted by a new lover seemed odd, at least it seemed so to Harlen. Yet, he saw the wisdom of it, she now had someone who could comfort her, rather than forcing her to endure it alone. Her having a new lover did not diminish her love for her former mate, but she could gain from the presence of someone who cared for her now. No few widowers were among the survivors, as many elven women had manned the battle lines, as well, though not in the numbers that males had. Some of these men also had new lovers with them, to help them in their time of mourning.

Some pyres had no survivors to mourn them, and some few families had experienced no losses. The members of that clan would attend to those with no mourners, by showing their own respect in a form of a transferral. They repaid with their grief for the unmourned, their fortune for having no losses of their own. Clan Yavanaur was one such clan. They took for their 'adopted' fallen a man of Morrovale. A huntsman Harlen had known for some time, but had never had a family, and had no one on the expedition into Windir to mourn him. His name was Kenik.

Kenik had fallen in the initial charge, pierced through the heart by a traitor's spear. He had died in mere moments. No one could aid him, any normal elf, or even their skilled healers.

A grim thought came to Harlen why elves used many piercing weapons in warfare. Their healing ability was of almost no use against deep punctures, such as arrow, spear, or stabbing hyandai. Weapons that impaled were the deadliest things to elves, and they reflected it in their choice of armaments.

As Hyandai had explained, "No man who put himself in harm's way for us will go without his proper remembrance. His spirit is forever welcome in Embalis." She gathered up her brother, sister, father, and Harlen, then she escorted them to the pyre of Kenik.

Wendy was with Tammer, who had lost a nephew in the battle, and mourned alongside his own son, Padrick, whom Harlen had never known very well. Padrick had still come, though. As had their fallen kin, Mallon. An elven girl, a scant twenty years of age was with them, wearing a long flowing white gown. She was to sing the dirge for Mallon. Hyandai would do so for Kenik. Every pyre had a white-gowned elven maiden standing by it, preparing to sing at the first touch of the sun on the horizon.

They would sing until the sun had set, then the people would light the fires. It would be a massive inferno this night. It would be visible, reflected in the skies for miles. Harlen, in his heart, hoped that the traitors would see it and it might give them thought as to the death their ways wrought. Many remained. 

They were beaten and broken as an army, but they might still cause some measure of trouble. Reports from returning deep-forest scouts were beginning to trickle in. It seemed many of them were moving toward the coast. They hoped that there the Isolationists would take ship and leave Windir. Perhaps they would go to Starre Island, where they would be able to live out their lives free of humans and other non-elven folk. Or so they hoped.

Hyandai had spent the day asking other huntsmen about Kenik. She, like all the other singers of dirges this night, and regarded her duty with serious solemnity, and was learning all she could regarding the man to whom it was her part to dirge. Harlen, himself, had spoken to over twenty other elves. The dirgers asked him what he knew of the fallen humans of the battle. All of the singers had been very diligent, and very serious.

"I have never partaken of a mass dirge before, Harlen," said Hyandai, looking around and wearing an expression of immense concern.

Harlen smiled at her, and kissed her brow. "You will sing perfectly, I am sure," he said. He had just watched Hyandai comfort the girl with Tammer's party, who seemed to share similar concerns. "I remember the dirge you sang for Melanie, in Morrovale, and it was flawless."

Hyandai smiled and nodded. "I will do my best, then," she said, sniffing back a tear. The time was growing near, and the people were all congregating to where they would be for the ceremony. It was not an organized thing, this mass dirge. So they had told Harlen, it was what occurred when the many related deaths faced a community. They held all elven funerals at sunset, as was their tradition, it symbolized the ending of a thing, and did so well. They held many Morrovalian funerals at such an hour, as well, for much the same reason.

One voice rose, a distance from Hyandai's group, it climbed with inexorable power into the darkening air and seemed somehow to fill the entire valley. Harlen looked toward the voice's origin and saw it was another young elven girl, no more than twenty-five. A lower toned voice soon joined her clear soprano, but with equal power, from another direction.

They did not coach, nor tell the singers when to start. They started when they were ready. It took almost two minutes for them to all begin singing, and by then the sound of the dirge was staggering. Harlen felt his heart clench, as if steel bands were wrapped about it. Tears stung his eyes and started rolling down his cheeks.

The lives cut short, the regrettable necessity of the battle, the people whom their loved ones far away again would never see. It struck Harlen as unjust that he was happy now when so many would be sad for a long time. More than a hundred good men and women had passed to protect those remaining. These hundred and seven had stood before the enemy and paid in their blood, the toll that fate demanded for the freedom and happiness. Did they begrudge it?

No. Great hearts did not begrudge others' fortunes, their spirits rejoiced in the happiness of those for whom they sacrificed. They asked that people but remember them, and perhaps, thanked a little. Harlen was sure that those men who had been his colleagues for several seasons, some of whom had born arms alongside Harlen before, were good men. They would not resent his happiness, no more than he had theirs.

The voices rose high and sang of the glory that the fallen had brought upon themselves. To give of oneself was worthy. The spirits would guide their new companions to peaceful places in the afterlife. Oneians among the gathering knew this place of succor was with the One, but it mattered little if they had angelic or elven guides to find it. The Oneian faith also taught that elven folk were angels made flesh, thereby making the point moot.

Harlen could see Kenik, wielding his broadsword with a fell hand in defense of people he had never met, and would now never meet. Kenik was a thoughtful man. He knew what he risked. Still, he risked it, for his friend, for an oath, and above all, to save good people. 

Those that fought alongside him told of how he had smote the hateful elf that had pierced him. Then Kenik had thrown himself to the fore to stop an attempted charge of many elven spearmen. His sacrifice had gained precious time for the Rangers of Morrovale to consolidate their line in the first swirling wave of the melee. Thereby he helped prepare the way for the rangers to drive a deep wedge into the faltering Isolationist ranks.

Not all the stories of the fallen were so glorious, but all were just as important. Each had a voice, and they sung each dirge with warm heart and gentle thanks. As the harmony blended, many eyes saw the fallen. They stood in a long file, shoulder-to-shoulder, ready to stand, even after giving all, in defense of others again, if they called them.

Now free of the bonds of the flesh, they could go anywhere, it was known. But, they were invited to stay with the spirits already in Embalis if they wished. Else, they could go wherever it was they thought they would be happiest, and the most at rest. None would know what their choices were, save the clerics of the elvenkind, whom the elven folk said spoke with them. These clergy were sworn never to give away the secrets of the spirits, though, and would not, unless a spirit, itself, bade such.

The sun's top touched the horizon, and the voices lifted in a stirring crescendo. This was to send the spirits forth to their rest on a gale of beautiful sound and with the blessings of the living gathered at the ceremony. Then the voices, almost as one, dropped off. In their place was a stunning silence. It seemed to last a long moment, then they could hear the wind again, and birds, and the sounds of people's shifting.

Elven boys, and young huntsmen, wearing long tunics of purest white moved toward the pyres. Each held a long torch, unlit. The first set his torch to the wood, and it burst into flame, the next down that row followed suit, doing the same, then the next. Down each row, the flames began to leap, crackling and red at first, then darkening to blue at the base. The elves had treated the logs with some mixture of the elves that caused the wood to burn with an intense heat. Within a mere moment, all the pyres were aflame.

The cool air tried to subdue the heat of the fires, but it failed, and it grew quite warm in the valley that evening. The sky reflected the orange glare of the fires, as it was thought. Indeed, folk would see it for miles about, perhaps even as far as the nearest other elven communities. People, both men and elves, stood before their chosen pyramid of flickering flames, and they talked in hushed tones among each group.

The pyres burned well into the night, full dark was now upon the valley, as the elves had extinguished all other lights for this night. The people started to move back toward the main village in small groups. There they sat in quiet pairs, trios, and a few groups of more and talked with reverence by the sole light source they had this night.

"Still so many," said Hyandai to Harlen as he held her. He stood behind her and had his arms about her shoulders. She rested her hands upon his forearms.

Harlen kissed the top of her head. "It is this way with the battles of men, every time," he said, coming out of deep thought. His voice had the sound of resignation. "Or worse. I have seen far larger bonfires for the fallen," he said.

"How terrible," said Hyandai.

Harlen's face grew dour. "Do you still think blending with the humans is a good idea?" he asked. "Yes," replied Hyandai without pause, "perhaps it will lessen humanity's desire for war, having elven blood tempering their emotions."

He smiled. "Perhaps it will," agreed Harlen.

Wendy approached them, and stood beside Hyandai, facing the fires, her face lit by the dancing flames. Harlen moved to between them and put one arm about her shoulder, as well. She smiled back and up at him, and rested her hand on his forearm, welcoming his touch.

"It was beautiful," said Wendy in a soft voice.

Hyandai nodded. "It was," she agreed, reaching out a hand to touch Wendy's still tear-streaked cheek.

The young ranger who spoke Westron, Rigilus, approached the trio. "Commander Harlen?" he asked, "may I speak a moment with you?"

The use of a formal title took Harlen aback, but he nodded nonetheless. He kissed Hyandai on the top of her head again and then kissed Wendy's brow as he walked toward the Windy Islander.

They walked on a path perpendicular to the long line of burning pyres, both of them spending long moments watching the flickering flames of the hundred fallen. "So, what can I do for you?" asked Harlen after they had moved a good way from the women.

"My commander has requested that I to go to Morrovale with your company, when you depart on the morrow," Rigilus said with his ever earnest voice. "They wish me to act, in part, as an emissary between your rangers and ours."

Harlen gave a slow nod. "I see," he said. "We, of course will welcome you, but you will need to secure the permission of our duke to remain in Morrovale. I foresee little trouble in that, though."

He thought a moment. "Why did you not speak to Master Tammer of this?" he asked.

Rigilus coughed in his discomfort. "Commander Tammer told me to speak to you," he said. "He said that he would be standing you in his place once this campaign is completed."

"Did he?" asked Harlen, eyes widening. "Well, that's something I wish they had told me of sooner." Harlen donned a wide smile. "Very well, then. Of course you may join our march back to Morrovale tomorrow, and you are most welcome."

"Thank you, sir," said Rigilus with an air of immense relief. "I have not been a ranger for long, and the idea of trekking through a long stretch of Windir alone was somewhat daunting." "You should understand one thing, though, Rigilus," cautioned Harlen. "We are not the same as your rangers in the Windy Isles. We do not organize ourselves at most times. We are huntsmen first, and foremost."

"So I have heard," said Rigilus. "I will, then, try to fit in within that structure, sir."

Harlen nodded. "Conveniently, there have been recent vacancies in allotments, I fear," he said, looking with much significance toward the bonfires. "Given your more thorough training, I fear not that you will be a fine huntsman, perhaps the very best of us."

Rigilus blushed and lowered his head in humility. "I have heard of your company's prowess on the field," he said. "I would not belittle your skills as either warriors or huntsmen, sir."

Harlen chuckled, and grabbed the smaller man's shoulder. "Diplomatically said, Rigilus," said Harlen. "You will be a fine emissary."

They had managed to walk all the way to the far side of the village. They now stood upon a low hillock that just a day ago had been one of the defensive positions of the village. Harlen marveled at how thorough and efficient were the elves whom had cleared away the detritus of battle. A large portion of the palisade was now burning as part of the pyres. The grass was already regrowing and several saplings that were planted just yesterday in place of felled trees were already showing many years' worth of growth.

True to Hyandai's promises, the villagers were constructing new homes in the boughs of the mighty ornthalion trees of the village. No homes would be on the ground now. Civic buildings and places that had to be so, of necessity, were all that would remain ground-bound. One such was her father's smithy, which Harlen intended to visit ere the Morrovale company left on the morrow.

"Am I dismissed, sir?" asked Rigilus.

"What?" asked Harlen, blinking. "Oh. If you wish to be," he said. "You will learn quickly. We are not a military group, Rigilus. We do not stand on formality," Harlen paused, "or ranks."

Rigilus nodded. "Commander Tammer said you would say that," he said, smiling. "Just as well, sir, as I would ask a few questions of you."

Harlen turned from his survey of the village. "Please, ask," he said.

"Rumor has it that you are betrothed to an elven woman," said Rigilus.

A brief nod from the huntsman answered him.

"What is Lady Hyandai like?" He asked, with eager eyes.

Harlen looked at him a moment. "You know of her?" he asked.

"Of course," the young ranger replied. "She was with our greatest general when he died, and she now carries his wisdom. He was Verus, a former Abian Centurion who led our armies after the Abians fled our nation."

Harlen remembered, in part, tales of that war, despite its distance from Morrovale, and the duchy's utter lack of involvement. The huntsman had been but ten when it had ended.

"So that is why she was the Warleader of Embalis," muttered Harlen. "You say part of his mind is within her?"

Rigilus nodded. "Indeed, the very part that made him a great general, his knowledge of warfare and combat," he replied.

"Well," said Harlen, thinking a moment. "She is an amazingly loving woman, Rigilus, and she is kind, and strong."

A broad smile formed on Rigilus' face. "I am glad she is now happy," he said.

Harlen blinked at that odd statement. "Why is that?" he asked.

"After she took part of Verus into herself, she became something of a pariah," said Rigilus, showing obvious discomfort. "My people held her in awe, and the elves feared her." He thought a long moment. "They were afraid she would go mad from absorbing the war-spirit of a human, moreso one so steeped in military ways. We, of course, held her in awe that she could even do such a thing. To know that there is a man who can look past all that and sees a woman, who she could love and would love her, it gladdens me."

"Well, certainly, love her I do," said Harlen. "But I knew not of Verus until recent days. Though, I wager, it would not have changed my heart, had I known when I first met her."

They continued a circuit of the village, walking about its outer periphery. Harlen asked Rigilus many questions of the near mythical figure Hyandai was to the Windy Islanders. In turn, he asked many questions of Harlen, always respectful, of the real person who was Hyandai.

"She was always something of a hero to me in my youth," confessed Rigilus, again lowering his head in embarrassment. "Well, Verus was my hero, but to know that the warrior of him was within her mind made me a devotee of hers as well."

Harlen nodded. "That makes two of us," he said, without any trace of sarcasm. They were again approaching the two women, and Hyandai was sitting upon a log with Wendy laying her head in the elven woman's lap. Hyandai shushed them as they approached, and Wendy was asleep, the elven maiden stroked her dark hair with a gentle hand. Somehow, Wendy looked even younger asleep than awake, with her attractive features softened and at rest.

Rigilus nodded and bowed low. He then withdrew and walked away in the direction of the barracks in which all the rangers, both Morrovale and Windy Island, were quartered.

He regarded the beloved Wendy for a long moment, then lifted his eyes to Hyandai. "You are amazing, do you know that?" asked Harlen in a whisper as he bent to kiss her brow.

Hyandai blinked up at him a moment, then smiled. "Why do you say that?" she asked. "Did that Windy Islander tell you tales of my amazing abilities?" Her eyes widened in a half-mocking gesture of surprise.

Nodding, Harlen sat beside her. "In a manner, yes," he whispered. "You fascinate him."

"As all men should be," said Hyandai with a flick of her head, sending her long red tresses flying over her shoulder.

"Yes," agreed Harlen, leaning inward and kissing her.

Hyandai responded to the kiss with passion, stroking his cheek with her free hand while continuing to pet Wendy's soft hair with her other.




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 22



As they pulled apart, Hyandai said, "I am fully satisfied to have one man fascinated with me." Then her eyes flicked down to the dozing Wendy. "And one woman."

Harlen nodded. "That will take growing used to," he confirmed. "Though, I think that the path to that will be far more pleasurable than arduous."

Lifting Wendy from the log, Harlen carried her up the stairs to Hyandai's chamber. He laid the still half-dozing young woman upon the bed as Hyandai pulled down the coverlet.

Wendy favored Harlen with a smile. "I am exhausted," she said. "You two play without me, if you've a mind."

Hyandai snickered behind Harlen, and he turned to face her. She had already slipped out of her gown and was kneeling onto the foot of the bed, crawling up Wendy's body with catlike grace. She held herself low and dragged her body against the young woman's.

"It is not so easy, Wendy, to leave you out of love play," said Hyandai, and kissed her.

With a twitch, Wendy's eyes shot open. "Wow!" she exclaimed. "Is that what you do to Harlen when you make him rise again?"

Hyandai nodded, smiling at her as Wendy grabbed her around the neck and kissed her again. The two were pressing together, and Hyandai had one leg between Wendy's long thighs, pressing the muscular upper side to the young lady's groin.

Soon, Wendy had slipped her gown up and over herself, despite Hyandai's weight on her chest. Hyandai lowered her head to Wendy's rounded breasts while Harlen began to kiss his way up her smooth thigh.

Harlen reached the top of the thigh and began lapping at Wendy's folded slit. She gave out a quiet moan at the stimulation of two mouths moving over her form. His tongue entered her and she gasped out, even as Hyandai began to kiss her neck and ear.

She watched Harlen begin kissing his way up her, and soon he entered her with a practiced and smooth stroke of his thick organ. She pushed up to meet him and Hyandai watched the two, sitting back, yet still touching Wendy's smooth skin with her cool fingertips.

Harlen moved into her with long, even strokes, building up speed and urgency with deliberate lack of haste. Wendy glanced over and saw Hyandai moving toward the foot of the bed. She then felt a tongue moving over her private places even as Harlen filled her inside. Both groaned as Hyandai plied her tongue over their individual body parts.

Then, with a gasp that startled Harlen, Wendy climaxed. She arched her back upward and lifted him from the bed clutching him to her as he continued thrusting. Wendy relaxed after a long moment; still gulping air from the intense explosion of pleasure they had just given her. Harlen looked down at her with an inquisitive look in his eyes..

Wendy tried to grunt out an answer to the question he did not ask. "If you had just felt what Hyandai did with her tongue just now, you would have climaxed, too," she said.

"No worries," Harlen said, smiling, then speeding up, causing Wendy to wiggle in response. She felt his muscles in his arms tighten and knew he was about to spend himself.

She nodded eagerly at him. "Give me your seed, lover," said Wendy, gripping his rump with her hands and pulling him into her. Harlen lifted his upper body from the bed and curved his back as he finished a last few strokes of his cock into her. Then he grunted out in pleasure, and Wendy felt his seed fill her.

For long moments, they lay together with Hyandai coming up to lie beside them, still stroking Wendy and Harlen's flanks. Then Harlen moved to one side, pulling his now limp organ from Wendy. He lay beside her and stroked her other side, opposite Hyandai. Wendy smiled at the two. "I am so glad you two desire me," she said moving her hands over both, exploring the two very different bodies on either side of her with her fingertips.

"We are glad you want us, as well, are we not Harlen?" asked Hyandai, peering over Wendy's body. 

Harlen nodded enthusiastic agreement.

---

The sun was peering from behind the cloudy sky, but there was little sign that rain would come, when the Rangers of Morrovale formed up the next day at midmorning. Of the two hundreds and fifty-four that had left Morrovale, one hundred and seventy-one would be returning, with Harlen, Hyandai, and Rigilus, as well. Every elf in Embalis turned out to watch them depart, a number that surprised Harlen, almost eight hundreds.

Harlen had visited Hyandai's father earlier in his smithy. He had yet to meet the large, powerful elf. He walked into the shop amid the clamor of a hammer and steel, he peered at the floor, and the walls, and even at the fire, then steeled his will and spoke.

"Greetings, father of Hyandai," said Harlen, bowing when the smith turned toward him.

The middle-aged elf nodded. "Greetings, Harlen of Morrovale, betrothed of my daughter," replied Emorianel, studying the man with an air of someone appraising a weapon's quality.

"I have come to ask your blessing upon our union," said Harlen, forcing himself to meet the elder elf's stern eyes.

Emorianel looked at him a long moment, still judging what he saw. "I would ask you, Harlend," he said. "Do you love her for her beauty? Or do you love her for her heart?"

Hyandai had warned Harlen that elven parents often questioned their children's suitors when they sought blessing. Which was the right answer to such a question? On the surface, the heart was the more proper answer, showing the person not shallow.

"I love every part of Hyandai," began Harlen, "I love her beauty, and her heart, and I love her fey, and I love her abilities. Most of all, I love her love for me." He did not know if bringing up a girl's fey, moreso, Hyandai's, to her father, was a wise choice. However, he was trying to be honest with the man who would be his father as well, when they wed.

The elf thought about that answer, setting down his hammer and walking to the doorway. Harlen hoped, with all his heart, that he was not ready to dismiss Harlen from the smithy.

Emorianel did not dismiss Harlen, however, he looked out into the field before his little smithy. "I have reservations of my beloved daughter marrying a human, Harlen," he said, switching with ease to the Westron tongue, "I will not lie to you. I know that she has a choice before her when she does so. To be widowed while she is still young, or to shorten her life to extend yours. It grieves me to know she will suffer either way, and I do not wish to give blessing to such a losing proposition."

Harlen felt his heart clench in his chest, and prepared to speak in his own defense.

"Nay, stay your lips," said Emorianel, interrupting the huntsman before he could speak. "I do not wish to bless that, but I must bless my daughter's happiness." He looked at Harlen with saddened eyes. "And being with yourself and Wendy gives her much joy. I see it when she but looks at you and Wendy, or even speaks of either or both of you. I am glad that you love her fey. For many humans do not understand how important it is not just to tolerate an elf's fay, but to embrace it." He leaned against the doorframe. "It is not just a part of her, it is the center of her, the foundation upon which the remainder is built."

Harlen nodded.

"I grant my blessing," said Emorianel, "to both you and Wendy to stand beside my daughter, to become one with her, and to join our clan." He turned and offered Harlen a big smile. "Harlen of clan Yavanaur." He embraced Harlen in a crushing hug. "Normally, her mother would be whom you would speak to of this," he said, wearing a broad, playful, grin. "I did not envy your having to face her father instead."

Harlen had never had a surname before, being the first of his line a freeman. He would have passed on his name, in the form of Disharlen, to any children had. Now, however, he had one, or would once they were wed. The idea of taking the wife's name did not strike Harlen as odd. Many freemen who had themselves no surname married freewoman who did, and would take that surname as their own at that point. It pleased him to think of this.

"Thank you, Emorianel," said Harlen in elven, bowing.

Hyandai's father nodded still wearing a small smile. "You can call me father, if you would prefer, for I am old enough, I deem," he said. "Hyandai says your father died when you were but a child of a few summers. A tragedy. I will try to act as one, if you would have it."

"I would welcome it very much," replied Harlen, almost in tears. Emorianel embraced him again. "Then go with my blessings, son, and be my daughter's groom when the time comes."

Harlen bowed and exited the small workshop; he spied a worried-looking Hyandai in the shadow of a small tree nearby. He walked toward her with a purposeful gait. Wendy had a worried expression on her face, though she contrived to look at rest, sitting at the base of the tree. "Well?" asked Hyandai, her normal formal speech pattern forgotten for the nonce, else her association with humans was telling on her.

Harlen kissed her brow, helped Wendy up from the ground, and gave her forehead a similar kiss before speaking.

"Your father welcomed us to be of your clan, if that is what you wished," said Harlen, smiling at her, and taking both Hyandai and Wendy's hands.

Hyandai's face, in an instant, shifted from worried to elated, and tears ran down her cheeks. Her tears had been poised for either eventuality, but these were the happier sort.

"Then it but remains for the year to pass," said Hyandai, kissing Wendy, then Harlen.

---

The Rangers of Morrovale began their march for home.

Forming two lines, they moved off into the forest. The elves did not cheer their departure, they observed and would wave and smile at any of the rangers who looked upon them. It took a brief time for the regiment to pass out of Embalis. In truth, the company was quite small, not even two hundreds now.

There was no organized marching order. Men moved up and back at their whim, to walk beside friends or to change to whom they were speaking. Harlen, Hyandai, and Wendy were near the rear of the column, Harlen walking N'umessa behind him with Wendy riding upon the beautiful steed. The arts of the healers had healed her foot, for the most part, but some mending was still needed.

The scenic forest about them kept the marching men entertained. As huntsmen, and huntsmen who appreciated nature, they were thrilled at some of what they saw. Now that they could walk at leiseure, and were not forced to watch for possible enemies, they could enjoy the travel, itself. Tammer had to round up wanderers with some frequency, when they strayed from the main company.

The company had been marching for the better part of four hours when Tammer called for a rest. They fanned out over a small area under the boughs of an ornthalion. Food was broken out of small rucksacks packed by the elven folk to last the three days' march back to Morrovale. The trio sat to one side, eating and speaking in a quiet group.

"Harlen, I have a wondrous thing to tell you of," said Hyandai, unable to contain herself any longer and having kept her secret for almost two days.

The huntsman looked at her, and then grinned. "Oh?" he asked. He had his side to the women and was whittling, a habit he had picked up again as things had settled into something of a routine. Wendy moved behind Hyandai, and squatted, bracketing the elf with her knees and putting her arms about Hyandai's shoulders.

"I am with child," said Hyandai, her smile so broad as to show every tooth she possessed.

Harlen sat still for a moment. His hands idle at last. He executed a slow turn and held up what he had been carving. It was a tiny cradle.

"You knew?" accused Wendy.

Harlen gave a very abbreviated shrug. "My grandmother midwifed half of Morrovale as I grew up," he said. "I would be remiss if I did not know the signs of a pregnant woman on sight. I was going to tell you soon."

The two women moved toward him with menacing expressions, in a low crawl and then sprung upon him. The three tumbled to the ground and the women took turns tickling his ribs as the other held his arms as best she could. He made a half-hearted attempt to resist their attack and their giggles and laughter brought many odd looks from the other rangers, followed by accommodating smiles.

Harlen managed to grab Hyandai's head and brought it to his own for a long kiss. "I am beyond happy, my love," he said upon pulling away from the kiss. "Thank you."

She smiled. "Thank you," said Hyandai.

Wendy sat back and smiled at them. "Me next," she said with an air of petulance.

"I'll do my best," promised Harlen to Hyandai's delight.

She giggled. "I am certain he will, too," said Hyandai. "We will hold him to his commitments."

---

The march took two days to the edge of the wood. Their luck was good, and the weather was pleasant, excepting a light rain on the morning of the second day. They saw no sign of the Isolationists, but did run across a few of the deep-wood scouts that Embalis had begun to send forth again.

The company was rather startled as they forded the river, though, and found the far side occupied by troops of the duke. A handful of riders rode out of the ruins of Markam's Ford and met them as the last of the company emerged, wet, from the shallows of the ford.

The lead rider hailed them as they watched, and Tammer stepped forth.

"Hail, soldier of Morrovale, what passes?" said Tammer, curiosity etching his lined old face.

The cavalryman reined his horse and looked down at the huntsmen. "The duke would speak with you, Master Tammer, and with your senior huntsmen," the rider said.

"We will report to him at once, then, upon reaching Morrovale," said Tammer.

The cavalryman looked over the group again. "There is no need to wait," he said. "The duke is in Markam's Ford, overseeing the rebuilding of a garrison there. We will escort you and your entourage to him." He paused a long moment. "He is most insistent that he has questions to put to you, Master Tammer, and is quite in a state regarding your return."

A look of faint worry passed over the old ranger's face. "Then let us go to him at once."

Tammer picked out Harlen and a few other senior huntsmen and Rigilus. The group of a half dozen walked with the horsemen falling in behind them. 

An uncomfortable image of the time Harlen had been escorted to the whipping post a few years ago flashed through his mind. His palms began to sweat with nervousness. That was also the last time he had faced Duke Anasper. There was murmuring among the other senior huntsmen, but Harlen walked in silence, as did Tammer.

Amid the ruins, they came to a large tent, one capable of having many chambers within. They had pitched other tents about and the noise of construction was quite loud. The duke must have brought half his army here to act as crew on the work teams, judging from the number of men working and resting about the old central square of the town.

The cavalryman leaped from his saddle and entered the tent's main flap. The other horsemen formed a loose ring about the huntsmen, not menacing, but, as if by intent, interposing themselves between the group and any possible escape.

There was a long pause as the gathered huntsmen waited. Then, the leader of the horsemen emerged, and held the flap back. A moment later, a man exited the tent, a man with long limbs, and an overall slender appearance. It was the duke.

Harlen was always surprised at the duke's youthful appearance, he was only a few years Harlen's senior, and the huntsman often forgot that fact. The huntsmen knelt before their sovereign and bowed their heads.

"Well, Master Tammer," intoned Duke Anasper, "what have you to say for yourselves?"

Tammer rose from his knee. "Milord, we emerge victorious from battle," he replied.

Duke Anasper regarded the huntsmen with cool eyes. "That was not what I meant, Master Tammer," he said. "You raised an army in my lands and waged war within another nation. Should I allow this?"

Tammer paused to think. "My lord, the Rangers of Morrovale, by custom and by law, are required to assist the Windirii in time of need," he said.

The duke's eyes widened a bit. "A VERY old law, which we have not observed for generations," retorted Anasper.

"This was the first time they needed our help," said Tammer, his eyes hardening. "Or should we have failed even an old ally?"

Anasper paced back and forth a moment. "Do you know why it offends me, Master Tammer?" he asked, his own eyes taking on a hardness of their own.

"I would never presume to know the mind of my lord until he has spoken it," replied Tammer.

"Because you did this thing without consulting me," said Duke Anasper in a most insulted tone, "denying me the option of joining you."

All of the huntsmen blinked at those words. "My lord?" asked Tammer.

"You think you alone care for the elves of Embalis?" the duke asked, eyeing the old huntsman. "Given the choice, I would have sent a thousand men to the succor of the people of our sister village in the elven lands. But, alas, you have denied that choice to me."

"I apologize, my lord," said Tammer, lowering his head. "Yet in my defense, I say that had we not moved with the haste we did, we would have failed to arrive in time to help. We arrived in scant time as it is."

"I will accept that excuse," said Anasper, "and your apology." His eyes softened a bit, and he looked at the huntsmen, all of whom were still kneeling, except Tammer. "Stand up, you lot," he commanded.

The other huntsmen stood up, including Harlen and Rigilus. The duke looked them over for a long moment. "Quite a fetching uniform you have there," he said, his voice appreciative. Then his eyes came to rest upon Rigilus. "That man is new to me," he said, pointing at the Windy Island Ranger.

Rigilus bowed low, elven style. "I am Rigilus Evindus, Ranger of the Windy Isles, milord," he said in a formal tone, as he stood upright.

"I see," said Anasper in a whisper. "And your purpose here?" A moment passed as Rigilus thought. "The Rangers of the Windy Isles have sent me to act as an emissary between the Rangers of Morrovale and the Windy Island Rangers, milord," he confided.

"An ambassador then?" asked the duke. "How wonderful. We've not had an embassy from the Windy Isles for long years."

"Milord, I am not . . ." Rigilus started to speak.

"Going to tell me you're not an ambassador," interrupted Anasper. "Lest you seek to be removed from Morrovale this very day." 

Rigilus looked toward Harlen, who gave him the slightest of nods. "Yes, milord, I seek to be an embassy between your lands and peoples and my own," he said with a broad smile.

"Well said," said the duke. "You will be a fine ambassador. I accept your embassy, and will reciprocate at the soonest opportunity."

"Master Tammer," said Anasper, changing tack and mood with ease. "You left my realm, from all reports, with two hundreds and fifty men. "Yet, now I am told you have only a hundred and seventy in your ranks. Was the battle so fierce to claim such a horrible toll in men's lives?" he asked.

"No, milord," replied Tammer. "Thirty-two were lost in the battle. And that despite the fierceness of the combat."

"Thirty-two," said Anasper, his eyes lowering and his expression becoming somber. "A high, but reasonable number, for fierce fighting. What of the other fifty?"

"They remain in Embalis to guard against further insurrection by the enemy," said Tammer. "And to receive instruction at the hands of the elves."

"A year and a day?" asked Anasper.

Tammer nodded. "Of course, milord," he said.

"As you can see," the duke said, waving his hands toward the construction crews. "I have decided to resettle and garrison Markam's Ford. I will expect a contingent of you rangers to take up abode here, though I leave that to your own affair to decide who, and how they will be organized." He favored the group with a broad smile. "By donning those uniforms, you have all just reentered my service as auxiliaries of my armies." He gave Tammer a cunning look. "I doubt Master Tammer has quite so informed you."




The Solitary Arrow Ch. 22



A shocked look crossed the faces of all the huntsmen. "Only during time of war," countered Tammer.

"Yes, yes," said Anasper. "Only during time of war. Still, I can require up to one tenth of you at any time, even in peace, to drill alongside my troops. And I will. Master Tammer and my commanders will work out the details, I am sure. Now, if you will excuse me, I have construction to oversee."

With that, the huntsmen all knelt again and Duke Anasper turned and reentered the pavilion.

The huntsmen all looked at Tammer. "What is that about?" asked Harlen.

"Just what he said," replied Tammer with a sour tone. "We rejoined the armies when we formed into a company again. I will work out a favorable arrangement with the commanders for the service periods. There is a simple solution for any man seeking to avoid the service, though. They have to but turn in their uniform and swear never to don it again."

A murmur arose among the senior huntsmen, and they reached a consensus that none of them would do so. They doubted that many other men would do so, either. The horsemen moved off and the huntsmen walked back to the waiting company.

As Harlen approached, Hyandai and Wendy stood from beneath the shade of a low, ruined wall. 

"What happened?" asked Wendy.

"It seems we've been levied," replied Harlen as he watched Tammer mount upon another section of ruined wall and begin to speak.

The men listened, and then they held a long discussion between various groups of men. After much discussion and debate they achieved another consensus. A few of the men would not serve in the army, and would relinquish their uniforms and arms. However, the number was less than ten. They thrust no shame upon these men, as it was their right, and military service, even as an attached ranger, was not to everyone's liking. Tammer spoke with the little knot of men for a few moments, instructing them of the procedure they should follow when they get to Morrovale. Of course, they could remain huntsmen, he assured them.

Wendy looked at Harlen with accusing eyes. "I have to call you sir now?" she asked.

"Only on duty," replied Harlen. "Still, according to Tammer, I will be an officer, or the equivalent of one, anyway," he kissed her brow, "but you CAN call me sir, if you like, anytime."

She nudged him in the ribs, giggling. "That will happen when frogs leap from my arse," said Wendy, giggling.

Tammer called camp, and ordered the huntsmen to go and help with the construction work for a few hours. Half the company set up camp while the other half went into the ruins and volunteered their assistance to the work crews.

Captain Farridin, after an hour came forth from the ruined village and spoke to Tammer for long hours. They hammered out an agreement between them how the rangers would serve with the army. It came down to each ranger would serve three weeks one period and two weeks another. They would draw lots during the new year's festivities to discover their service periods.

It seemed an equitable arrangement, most of the rangers decided. The treasury would pay them for the period they served, and not a paltry sum, either. Captain Farridin valued scouts and compensated them well.

---

The Rangers of Morrovale were welcomed home with some measure of celebration. Most of Morrovale turned out to meet their approach, and there was much cheering and waving at the returning huntsmen.

To Tammer fell the undesirable duty of telling folk of dead loved ones. Harlen, Hyandai, and Rigilus went with him to each home during the first week after their return. Widows were to be paid a stipend from the moneys that huntsmen paid as part of their allotments. It was a trial for all of them, dealing with the grief of parents and wives and children. Nevertheless, they worked through it, and offered what comfort they could. One widow wished to relocate to Embalis, to live among those whom her husband died to protect. A week later, a half dozen elves appeared at her doorstep with a wagon and horses, and they took her in honor to Embalis, to live among them. Her husband had paid the price for that honor, in the minds of the elves.

Things in Wendy, Harlen, and Hyandai's life settled into a comfortable and soothing routine.

---

Wendy, Harlen, and Hyandai plaited again a few days later, weaving their hair and performing the little miracle that allowed each to carry the other's tresses as their own. The three separate locks intermingled in the braids, dark brown, lighter brown, and red.

"So, we have to wait a year and a day from today for Wendy to be wed to us?" asked Harlen.

"It is the way of it," replied Hyandai. "Though it is ultimately Wendy's choice, she is not an elf, and not bound to the year and a day, and I am free of it the day we can marry."

Wendy shook her head. "Elves and ceremonies," she muttered. "Do you ever just do something?"

"Not if we can help it," Hyandai said, kissing her. "We have much time to fill," she added, with eyes glinting.

---

Winter was settling in soon after, and the pace of Morrovale slowed to a bare crawl. Harlen hunted for the needs of the household, and even he always returned before dark settled in, riding N'umessa to his allotment and returning with all the haste that he could. Morrovale had cold, snowy winters, and the landscape was covered in a light white dusting most of the time.

It fascinated Hyandai, and, as an elf, not very discomfitted by the cold. She would go forth to the market each day wearing just her skirt and half-top, much to Wendy's alarm. 

When Wendy caught her making snow angels in the back courtyard with Trevir one morning after a new snow, she was beside herself. She fretted and fussed until both Hyandai and Trevir were ensconced at the table with hot soup in their hands, despite their protests of not being cold or chilled.

The winter passed at a languid pace. Harlen found himself expecting another child three months later. The healers of Embalis had given Hyandai the recipe for a concoction that would calm the stomach of a pregnant woman. It served just as well for Wendy as it had Hyandai.

When a party of elves braved the cold to visit Morrovale for a few days, and conduct some trading, Harlen managed to speak to one of them. He sent him off with a letter to Hyandai's father and a small package.

Spring came about in time, as it always does. This time found the people preparing for the new year's celebration. Hyandai and Wendy were caught up in the preparations, and soon were gone much of the day at other people's homes, planning and preparing things.

The villagers accepted Wendy's status as 'handmaiden', as they did her upcoming birth. Harlen enjoyed a small measure of status from this at the Boar, but it was kept rather quiet, as to not upset Tammer.

Harlen began making longer hunting trips, taking the weed like Trevir with him now. Trevir was quite good, Harlen discovered, and the trips were pleasurable and profitable, with the lad's company and help.

Rigilus spent his time between Morrovale and the duke's palace outside town. He was welcomed into the village, being both personable and quite entertaining when he told stories of the Windy Isles. He was soon courting a woman of Morrovale and there was talk of impending nuptials.

Spring gave way to summer. An elf appeared at Harlen's door one summer morning, with a package and a short letter from Hyandai's father. 

Hyandai was now great with child, and due any time. Wendy's belly was growing with notable speed, but not due for some months yet. Harlen's grandmother fussed over the two young women, and browbeat Harlen for putting the poor lasses in such a state.

"I taught him better than to do something like this," fussed Gramma, "To put both of you in such a state simultaneously. He should be ashamed."

"It was not as if we were helping not to get pregnant," confided Hyandai, defending her man, even if in jest.

Gramma looked at her, smiling. "I know that dearie," she said. "But you can't let that man know it," she added in a low whisper.

At midmorning of the eighteenth day of Fervamens, in late summer, Tammer Disharlen of Clan Yavanaur was born. Wendy sat beside Hyandai upon the bed and leaned inward, admiring the baby.

Gramma washed her hands in a basin on the nightstand as Harlen came in. Hyandai had the newborn pressed to her bosom, and he was feeding, his eyes closed.

"Our child is a boy," said Hyandai, pride filling her voice. Harlen suspected she would have said it the same way, were their baby a girl.

Harlen sat upon the side of the bed and peered over at the newborn, suckling upon his mother's breast. He smiled as he traced a finger along the point of his tiny ear. 

"He's got your ears," he said in the reverential tone fathers have when speaking in the presence of new mothers.

Hyandai giggled. "He has your eyes, though, beloved," she said. "And your voice, should you try to deny him his want, trust me."

Harlen reached out and stroked Hyandai's hair, then bent forward and kissed her. "Thank you, beloved," he said.

Wendy and Harlen left the room at the goading of Gramma, who went across the hall to the spare bedroom, where she had stayed for a week, waiting for the birth.

Harlen and Wendy went downstairs. "Harlen," began Wendy, "do you regret having me into your relationship with Hyandai?" A moment passed while Harlen thought. Wendy liked this about him. He almost never answered without thought. "It has crossed my mind that you may not feel loved in equal measure," said Harlen. "I fear you feeling that way, anyway."

"Should I?" asked Wendy, sitting with great care in one of the rocking chairs, her round belly making it a bit of a challenge, despite Harlen's quick assistance.

Harlen again thought for a bit. "No," he said after the pause. "I don't think now that I could say I love her more than you. I am not even sure if I know how to love only one of you, anymore. You are part of us, and we a part of you, I should think."

Nodding, Wendy smiled. "I feel the same way," she said. "I don't know how I would feel with just one of you two. I don't wish to find out, either."

Harlen knelt before her and kissed her hand. "I love you, Wendy," he said, his eyes filled with reverence. "As much as I love life."

Taking his hand from beneath hers, Wendy placed it upon her belly, where he could feel the movements of the unborn child within. "I am glad of that," she said. "Immensely."

Harlen rose from his knees and kissed Wendy. Trevir came into the room. "One protect me, don't you lot ever stop?" he exclaimed as they parted lips to look at him. The lad had a wide smile, though. "Miss Hyandai's does well then?" he asked.

"Indeed," answered Wendy. "She is a mother now."

Trevir smiled at that. "Great, it was a boy, wasn't it?"

Harlen nodded. "Yes," he said.

"I knew it, pay up!" exclaimed Trevir, holding out a hand to Harlen.

Wendy had a look of playful dismay on her face. "You bet on the birth?" she asked.

Harlen dug into his belt pouch and produced a half mark coin. "Um. Well, yeah, I guess I did," he said looking sheepish.

"Bet and lost," said Trevir, gloating as he pocketing the coin and grinning at Harlen and Wendy.

In an attempt to sound offended, Wendy asked, "Is this child under such a bet?" She rubbed her belly as she raised an eyebrow at the father of the unborn child.

Harlen again looked sheepish and rubbed the back of his neck. Wendy looked up at him with an open-mouthed smile of shock. "You villain!" she said, giggling. "What did you bet the child to be?" "A girl." Harlen muttered.

"Right then. Put me down for ten marks that it is a boy, Book-Maker Harlen of Morrovale," Wendy said, putting her hand out to be shaken.

He took it, but did not look pleased. "Very well, but you will lose," said Harlen.

Wendy scoffed at him. "Yes, you've made a great prediction so far," she said. "You wait until I tell Hyandai of this!"

"She'll probably put another ten marks against me," said Harlen, shaking his head.

Giggling, Wendy said, "Hyandai has made some real money scribing records, Master Harlen. Do not be surprised if she makes a fifty-mark wager."

Harlen kissed her for a moment, then escorted young Master Tammer toward the kitchen for a beer and to discuss the proper etiquette for settling wagers.

---

The chill wind blew stiff in the morning air. Ceriandel stood before the altar in the back courtyard. Trevir had rebuilt it several times, refined, and was quite a fair approximation of an altar in Embalis. He watched as Harlen shifted from foot to foot. He was wearing the green silken tunic the elves had given him after the battle.

Wendy and Hyandai came out of the house, and both were wearing the blue silken gowns from the same day. Each had flowers woven into their tresses and walked slowly to the altar.

Ceriandel grinned widely at the nervous man. "You are really done for now, Harlen," he said in a hushed tone. "Having experienced the affections of two women, I envy you not committing to a lifetime of it."

Harlen smiled back. "It is a risk I face willingly," he said.

The two women stood before the altar now and the three turned to face each other.

"Elven life is full of ceremony," said Ceriandel standing before the trio. "But you three now engage in one of the simplest of them. The one that leads to one of the most complex of futures." He stopped for a moment. "Marriage," he concluded.

"You three have decided to make it complex indeed. I warn you that you will be forever working out the intricacies of the delicate balance you must maintain. There is no elven word that sunders a marriage, and there is no ending one, save by death.

Harlen's eyes flicked from Hyandai to Wendy and back. He saw that their eyes did the same.

"Harlen, are you sure of the path you walk?" asked Ceriandel.

Harlen looked toward him. "I am sure," he said.

"Hyandai, are you sure of the path you walk?" he repeated the question to his sister.

Hyandai nodded and said, "I am sure."

Ceriandel looked at Wendy. "Wendy, are you sure of the path you walk?" he asked.

"I am sure," replied Wendy.

"You three are now committing your lives to one another. You will forever place the needs of the other two before your own, and will forever be at their service," said Ceriandel. "If you are ready for that, then speak so."

"I am ready," all three said in unison.

Ceriandel walked around them, handing each a ring, the one to be worn by their betrothed on their right. Harlen had sent off to Embalis for that, a third ring, one that matched the other two. He refused to reveal its cost to anyone, as did Hyandai's father, who had arranged to have jewelry smiths in Embalis craft it.

They glowed with a faint light of their own, and they glittered as if tiny lakes reflecting sunlight. The mithril alloy they were crafted in had a slight blueish tint to it.

Harlen placed the ring upon Hyandai's finger, then Hyandai slipped the ring she held onto Wendy's finger. Wendy turned to Harlen, to complete the circle by sliding the larger ring over his finger. 

"It is that simple," intoned Ceriandel. "Hope that your lives have such simplicity again, Harlen, Wendy, and Hyandai of Clan Yavanaur. You are wed."

He bowed and then hugged his sister who was beaming. There were no witnesses for the ceremony, save the conductor. Elven marriages were not public events, even if the result was a public change. It was a covenant between the people getting married, and no one else. Society had to accept it.

Inside the house, however, were guests aplenty.

Tammer was there, smiling and speaking with Emorianel, Hyandai's father. Harlen's Gramma was there, as were Tessa and Maegan. More than two dozen huntsmen, the best acquainted with Harlen, were attending, one with a soon-to-be elven bride of his own with him. Rigilus and his new bride were there as well. Her own rounded belly, alone outmatched by the nearly absurdly large one that Wendy was now forced to endure.

The celebration went late into the night, and much happiness filled the little house, and around it. More elves were, this day, in Morrovale than at any time that anyone knew of, for the wedding, and to accompany those who came for the wedding. It seemed that half if Embalis was in Morrovale, and the Morrovalians welcomed the company of their neighbors.

Wendy gave birth on the thirty-second of Comamens, as winter was fast approaching. Morlani Disharlen of Clan Yavanaur was a healthy and happy girl, and Harlen made sixty and a half marks. Morlani had been Hyandai's mother's name.

---

Harlen was sitting in the Pierced Boar, enjoying a rum with a beer for a chaser. He had one every Brimdor, just before the day of rest after he came back into town from hunting. Someone cleared their throat from behind him.

Turning, Harlen saw a man wearing the Livery of the duke. "Yes?" he asked.

The page held out a scroll to Harlen. "Duke Anasper requests your presence at the soonest opportunity, Ambassador Harlen," he said.

THE END

Epilogue ---

Ryssa sat upon the old foundation's edge, peering at her palmset as it displayed the images that the chronothaumic recorder saw. She heard the crunch of macadam under tires coming from the road. Looking up, she saw Danis parking his carraige and emerging with the solid thunk of the door.

"Have you found what you sought?" he asked as he walked with care over the grids of the excavation.

Nodding, Ryssa Yanour stood and brushed her auburn hair back behind her elegant, pointed ear. "I have, beloved, though you may grow alarmed at my discovery."

Danis smiled at her, taking her in his arms, after giving her time to set down the expensive palmset. "I don't know how anything about you and your lineage will dismay me," he said, kissing her.

She responded as she always did to his kiss, forming herself to his body and accepting him and his touch. As the kiss ended, she turned to the palmset again and picked it up. "Oh, I don't know this time, dear. It may shock you."

He looked over her shoulder at the tiny illusographic display, as he peered at it, it grew to fill his vision. Thaumic electronics always gave him the willies, though he was never sure why.

Around him, an old house formed, and in it were people, frozen in place. They were dressed in leathers and homespun cloth, except three of them. Those three were dressed in silk that would not look out of place at a high-society party today. Two pretty women in long gowns, matching blue with silver piping. And a huge man, wearing a green tunic and matching silken pants piped in silver. One of the women was great with child, the other holding a infant in her arms.

Ryssa guided him through the illusory room, past an old man who was holding up a wine glass, as if to toast. "These fine folk here," she said, pointing at the trio in silk.

"What of them, angel?" asked Danis.

"That man," said Ryssa, "is my great grandsire, six times over. His name was Harlen." Then she turned to the woman in a gown with flaming red hair and remarkable emerald eyes. "This is my great granddame, Hyandai."

Ryssa then adopted a wicked grin. "And this lovely woman, with the dark brown hair, is Wendy, your great granddame, Danis Disarlen," she pronounced.

"Where's my great grandsire, then?" he asked, peering about the illusory room. The smile finished growing upon Ryssa's lips, and she turned back toward the massive man who stood between the two attractive, petite women. "Here," she said, "Harlen."

"The same man sired both our bloodlines?" said Danis, incredulity clouding his voice. "How do they justify that arrangement, as Oneians?"

Ryssa shrugged. "They were never married in a Oneian ceremony. They married under an elven ceremony, and elves accepted mutual polygamy," she said.