The Best Laid Plans of Elves & Men

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A love affair between a human and an elf.
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The rain had stopped. For four days there had been nothing but bleak skies and a slow, steady drizzle. In that miserable weather Wilfed had travelled up the Mourn River across the borderlands between Trimbledale and the Kingdom of the Elves. Everything on the river boat had gotten thoroughly soaked, all except for his letter of introduction. He had kept that dry in a sealed ivory scroll case.

As they came into view of the city of Dewa the clouds began to break. The small grey clouds clung to the palaces' upper spires began to vanish. The sun broke through the clouds as they arrived at the docks. As they unloaded the boat the sun began drying the clothes that clung to him. In an hour everything smelled fragrant and delicious, and everything looked clean and bright. He thanked the captain and prepared to go on his way.

"It was quite a journey," said the captain, he was an older half-elf who had plied his trade on this river for well over a century. "Well at least you got the sun here at the city. I reckon that will make your mission more pleasant."

"I'm sure it will," said Wilfed, "Though it does figure."

"What does?"

"That the sun would shine here; elves do everything perfectly, even the weather."

"Ho, ho," the captain chortled. "Now just wait 'til you see, they do more things as an art than you could ever imagine. Aye, it does take some getting used to, even for me."

They parted and Wilfed walked from the docks to the city. Dewa was the main port of the Kingdom of the Elves. All of the noble houses of elves and several great trade houses of the other races had a presence there. The elves conducted diplomacy from Dewa as well. The capital was far away, but the king never received messengers from the outside world at his court. Except on ceremonial occasions, only the circle of advisors ever saw King Azurstal. For an outsider the only way to get the king's approval for a proposal was to go through a lengthy chain of intermediaries. Going through the process could take a decade; a blink of an eye to the elves, but an eternity to humans.

Wilfed didn't have a decade; he barely had a month. His proposal was of utmost urgency and it required the approval of the king. The situation had seemed hopeless until an old family servant had reminded him that his great grandfather had known a noble elf woman, Lady Sindra of the house Mystal. Mystal was a great house and Wilfed made his case in the council of war that they must have had some rapport with the royal family. Lady Mystal had lived in Dewa a century ago, maybe she was still there and if she was maybe she could help. The council had thought the plan was preposterous, but no one had another, so Wilfed was sent.

The Elvish city was different than any other city Wilfed had seen. Elves did not live in trees, as Wilfed had once thought, but in magnificent palaces. The city was filled with palaces with long yards which were set on broad streets paved with white stone. Throughout the city there were plazas with ornately carved fountains and statues of great elves. The buildings did not hug one another as they did in human cities. Instead sunlight shone through even on the streets. There were no slums, no beggars or any sign of poverty. Even the docks were orderly, and the dock workers were burly, by elven standards, but they were not menacing and sullen. There were stately arcades with porticoes which held neat little shops and smart taverns, but no marketplaces ringing with the cacophony of a thousand voices and little but junk for sale and no filthy brothels with madams outside slyly propositioning young men.

He found his way to the palace of house Mystal with the aid of some passers-by. It was a gorgeous chateau of pink marble which rose up to a forest of soaring chimneys on the roof. The large oak door was carved with a scene of unicorns in the woods. The heavy brass knocker was held in the mouth of a unicorn; Wilfed raised then dropped it. The sound was deafening. In a few seconds the door swung open and an older elf emerged. He wore a red velvet coat with an insignia of two unicorns on his chest.

"May I help you?" he asked. His voice creaked from age, but he managed to sound polished and differential.

"I am Baron Wilfed von Esten," he said and bowed stiffly. "I am here to see Lady Mystal on a matter of utmost importance. I have with me my credentials and a letter of introduction," he said. He presented his scroll case and opened it to show the elf two scrolls with the seal of King Kronning III.

"Baron von Esten, you said?" he asked as he cocked his head slightly. A faint smile played on his lips.

"Yes."

"I shall inform her ladyship of your arrival at once," he said and then bowed deeply. "Welcome to the Dewa palace of house Mystal." The elf led him through the foyer into a spacious hall. At the center of the room was a large wooden table. It was intricately carved with a leaf pattern, like a forest floor thought Winfed. Three younger elves rose to attention in front of the table as the men entered. They were dressed in the same livery as the older elf. That elf bade Wilfed sit as he addressed the others, "This is Baron von Esten. See to his needs as I fetch Lady Mystal."

Baron Wilfed took his seat and looked around at the hall. It was magnificent. The walls were paneled with a rich, deep cherry wood. Half pillars were spaced at regular intervals against the paneling, each carved in a likeness of an elvish lord. Wilfed guessed that they represented the forbearers of house Mystal. The ceiling soared above into hammer beam supports made of a lighter colored wood. The floor was made of rich lacquered planks set in a parquet pattern. Wilfed thought that this was the elf's way of bringing the forest to them in the city, despite being so large the room was rich and warm and felt almost alive.

As Wilfed looked about he noticed the footmen had dropped their rigid pose and were all staring at him. One of them spoke after a few moments, "You must be a man of great importance."

"I shouldn't think so; I'm just an ambassador," Wilfed replied. He was a baron as well, but that was hardly an exalted title among elves or men. Many of King Kronning's council had wanted to send a man with at least the rank of count with him. That proved to be impossible. The counts and dukes were needed to muster their knights and to form a strategy. It was decided that the success of this mission would have to rely upon Wilfed's ability rather than on his title.

"How strange," said the same elf. "Normally one of us would have been sent. Aronstad is in charge of all the household servants. He doesn't announce visitors, unless they are of great importance and he never announces anyone to Lady Mystal. Her ladyship's secretary receives ambassadors, not her ladyship."

"Perhaps he's heard of our mission," said Wilfed. "We need to move troops through the elven land for the safety of the world."

"Maybe that's it," said the elf, though he sounded doubtful.

They sat in silence for a few minutes; then the door on the far side of the hall opened and an elf-woman walked in. From the miniature the servant had shown him he knew that this was Lady Mystal. She was pretty, just like in the miniature, with violet eyes and honey colored hair which she wore in a braid. She stopped just as she got through the door and smiled brightly. Wilfed felt his pulse quicken when he saw that smile. "Bransy?" she asked.

"I am Baron Wilfed von Estal, my lady" he answered as he stood up and bowed, stiffly.

"Oh, of course," she said quickly. "I am Lady Sindra of Mystal," she said and bowed slightly. "Please forgive my informality, but was Lord Bransor von Estal your father?"

"He was my great grandfather."

"How the years fly," Lady Mystal said softly as her smile turned sad. "I knew your great-grandfather," she continued. "We were," she paused, "Close friends."

"He died before I was born. When I was a child my grandfather showed me a miniature of you. He said it was his father's most prized possession."

The family resemblance was there, thought Sindra. At a glance you might have thought this man was Bransor. He had the same mannerism. It was most apparent when he talked, he had the same direct hand gestures and the same direct gaze. Maybe he was like his great-grandfather in other ways as well. Maybe she would find out.

"I'm flattered to hear you say that. I have also kept my miniature of your great-grandfather," she said. Her smile brightened again and again her eyes flashed. "My servant said that your business is urgent. Could it wait for this evening? I have a million things to do today, but I'll be free tonight."

"That is most acceptable," replied Wilfed as he nodded. That was much sooner than he had expected.

They had set a time. Lady Mystal thought it would be most convenient to meet over dinner. Wilfed knew no one else in Dewa, so he readily agreed. Lady Mystal instructed one of her footmen to show Wilfed the city. The footman talked at length about the architecture and histories of the various palaces and temples. There were dozens of them each with its own story. Wilfed paid close attention; he knew that information gleaned here could provide insights into elven history and character, subjects on which his knowledge was sorely lacking. These in turn could provide helpful in negotiations. The footman didn't seem interested in his own lecture, though. He seemed more interested in Wilfed. The whole time he watched Wilfed closely. He didn't seem suspicious, but he did hang on Wilfed's every word and closely observe his every action. Wilfed tried to hide his discomfiture.

Late in the afternoon, after having seen the city, Wilfed was shown to a spacious chamber with a drawn bath. The elves were subtle, he thought as he looked about the room while sitting in the white porcelain tub. Often human lords had ostentatious displays in every room. Wilfed's own manor had centuries of accumulated artwork covering every inch of the walls. The elves seemed to find joy in the simplicity of bare walls, with slight accents. There was some stenciling on the upper walls near the ceiling, a couple portraits and violet curtains. When the war was over Wilfed resolved to change his own baronial halls to be more like this.

The violet curtains were the same shade as Lady Mystal's eyes, Wilfed thought. He had found his thoughts drifting to Lady Mystal throughout the day. Was he smitten? Even in their brief interview there was something about her that had struck Wilfed. He had seen elf women before. They were pretty, though their lithe figures were too boyish for Wilfed. Lady Mystal was more developed than most, but there was something more than just her figure. She was bewitching. Wilfed kept thinking about those eyes, that hair, and her skin. He reminded himself that he needed to be cautious. He could hardly negotiate effectively if he was falling in love with her.

He read through his dispatches throughout the day. They were still soggy and the ink on them had smeared. He went over his mission and formulated his appeal in his mind. He'd have to deliver it to her; he felt happy and nervous. In the evening a pair of footmen summoned him from his room and led him to Lady Mystal's ante chamber. Lady Mystal was sitting at the table waiting for him. She rose as the footman announced him and she smiled as he entered. Wilfed thought that he had never seen a more beautiful woman. She was radiant. She wore no jewels, her long hair hung loose and had on a simple violet silk dress. Even in such simple attire she seemed to glitter.

Sindra felt like the simple woodland elf girl she had been a century ago; breathless and full of dreams. She knew she shouldn't expect a man to be identical to his ancestor, but after seeing him and hearing him talk she couldn't help but think of him all day; confusing this one in her daydreams with Bransy. She had given her footman strict orders to give her a detailed report of everything this Lord von Esten did. She listened patiently as he reported back to her at evening betraying no emotion. In fact she felt as though she was fifty again, gossiping with her friends over boys. She wanted to giggle with every question she asked and to squeal with delight over everything he told her. Everything Wilfed did seemed so manly. Now he was across the table from her. He was handsome she thought as she slyly checked out his features. She invited him to eat.

The table was small. This was Sindra's private table. She often dined here alone when there were no banquets or balls that she needed to attend. She had the table dressed simply with a plain white cloth and some green glazed plates and platters. Those were overflowing with all manners of fruits and cheeses. Lady Mystal had made sure both their goblets were filled with dark ruby wine. It was the finest reserve from the Mystal estates.

They made small talk for a few minute. His voice was different than Bransy's, and the human language had evolved in the past century. Humans were like that, quick, adaptable, always changing. Even so, Sindra enjoyed listening to him talk. She wished that they could just talk all night and continue with business another day, but she knew humans are direct creatures. They didn't have the patience to deal with the elaborate social custom of elves or evenings of idle chatter. She broached the subject directly and said, "So tell me of your mission."

Wilfed put down his goblet and stared straight at Lady Mystal as he spoke. "We face a grave crisis in the human lands. The Necromancer of Azbug seeks to extend his domain at our expense. His forces are vast and filled with all sorts of nameless horrors. They are advancing on the city of Mogul. Though Mogul is a walled, its population is large, and it doesn't have the resources to withstand a prolonged siege. If Mogul collapses the western lands are likely to fall which would leave Lord Abzug free to move south into your lands; however all is not lost. We have evidence that the dark lord has overextended himself. If we were allowed lead a small army through the Black Woods we could overrun his stronghold in Duneastem, gain control over the routes through the Dismal Hills and leave him without the means to supply his forces. That would force him to retreat while we reinforce our strongholds and prepare our own counter attack. It's a risky plan, I know, but it seems like our best option. We need the permission of King Azurstal to move our forces through his land."

Though she still smiled, Sindra felt her melancholy mood return. The passion this man had was overwhelming. He was just like Bransy; all man, brave, bold, and cunning. The way he took charge, and the way he spoke with such force made her feel flush. She had missed having a human lover, she had missed it more than she had realized; but they couldn't be lovers. No matter how much she desired him she realized that she was just a tool for him.

"And you would like me to ask my husband to suggest this to the king," she said.

"Your husband?" he asked. He sounded puzzled.

"Yes, didn't you know?" she cocked her head and looked at him directly from one eye, "My husband is a favorite of the King Azurstal."

"No, I didn't know," he paused, "By favorite you mean..."

"Yes," she replied before he could continue. He turned bright red and looked down. His great grandfather had done the same when Sindra had told him about her husband. Most humans were embarrassed by the proclivities of male elves. "I've been very lonely for over a century."

"I'm so sorry to have troubled you," he said quickly. Wilfed felt deeply ashamed and wanted to leave. He didn't stand, though, he reminded himself that his duty came first.

"Think nothing of it," said Lady Mystal as she waved her hand. "I'm hardly the only elf-woman who has been abandoned by her husband; but if you weren't seeking my husband's help why did you come here?"

"We are desperate. There isn't much time. You were the only contact with a Great House," he replied.

"Any great house?" she repeated. "I had thought you were bold before. I could have been anything. I could have been out of favor with the King. I could have been a pariah among the other great houses. I could have hated humans, many elves do."

"I know all that, we discussed this thoroughly in council. We are desperate and you were our only hope."

Such a human, she thought as a pejorative, the way elves usually used the term. Sindra had told her daughter to quit behaving like a human when the child would misbehave. Sindra was about to shake her head in disbelief, but stopped herself. Behaving as a proper elf with caution, patience and grace had only left her lonely. Here this strange wonderful man was before her; so far from being an elf. She had been just about to dismiss him for not pursuing the ideals which had made her miserable. She smiled at her own foolishness and said, "Tell me, Baron, are you this bold when dealing with women?"

"Sometimes," he replied; though he wasn't usually in the presence of great ladies. Tavern wenches hardly required indomitable courage.

"Then why are you so nervous with me?" she asked as she leaned forward revealing the upper portion of her breasts.

"You elves do everything so perfectly and with such art that I'm bewildered by everything here."

"Bewildered?" she repeated with some amusement. He seemed more confident than his protests indicated.

"Everything is confusing here. You elves have a thousand different subtle gestures that seem to convey intricate meaning that I could never begin to guess at. If a human woman spoke as you do I'd think that she desired me." He stopped, again embarrassed, as he realized that he had said too much.

"And you think that I am different?" This was going better than she could have imagined.

"I don't know..." he stammered.

"What if one of your own women looked at you like this?" Lady Mystal asked as she slowly ran her eyes down his body. Winfed gulped and suddenly felt very warm. "Come now," she continued, "I'm a creature of flesh and blood, just like you." She stood up and took him by the hand. He stood up and stared into her eyes for a moment then he kissed her voraciously.

Sindra bent back, delighted to be held in his strong arms. She felt treasured. This is what she had dreamed of across the years. Was it shameful to make love to your lover's great grandson? Lady Mystal dismissed the thought as quickly as it entered her mind. His lips, his hands simply felt too wonderful for her to dwell on such trivialities. There were elves who thought it was perverted to make love to a human at all and regarded it as a sort of bestiality. They didn't know what they were missing. She felt alive as his insistent mouth explored hers. She pulled back in a moment out of breath and stared deep into those gorgeous eyes. She wanted him, now. She took his hand and led him to her interior chambers.

Wilfed felt his heart race as he entered Lady Mystal's chambers. She had a room fit for a princess, he thought vaguely as he gazed over the whte canopied bed, but had no more time for thought as the elf woman spun to the ground and fell to her knees in a simple, graceful motion. She looked up at Wilfed with a pleading gaze as her hands reached around his ass and slid his pantaloons down. His erection sprang out and she smiled with delight.

The generations had been kind to the house von Estan thought Sindra. If anything he was even larger than his great grandfather. She deftly took his cock in her mouth, playing with the head, licking it and then engulfing it with her mouth, while her hands worked up and down the shaft. It had been nearly a century since she had made love to any man, but her natural elven grace made up for the absent years.

The elves had so many arts, Wilfed reflected, more than he ever imagined. He was amazed by her skill at cock sucking. He ran his fingers through her gorgeous blonde hair as her head bobbed up and down. She'd stop from time to time to give the head of his cock a soft lick as she stared up at him. He'd shiver in delight at that. He found himself softly moaning in delight as the soft warm wetness of her mouth descended again. Her gentle suction and her deft doll like hands upon his shaft were too much for him. He came with a grunt and shot his seed deep within her mouth. To his delight she gleefully swallowed every drop of his spunk, keeping his cock in her mouth until it grew soft and fell out.

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