The Outlander & the Elf Maid Ch. 00

Introduction: The Spear & Plow Inn

It was a long hot summer day. The wind-swept grain fields that lined either side of the road, formed marine-like swells on an open sea of yellow-tan. While picturesque, it offered no shelter from the bitter rays of the sun. Tyler cursed the burdensome sphere as he mopped the sweat from the back of his neck. The road came up hard underneath his boots, and jarred his bones with every agonizing step. The dust from the road left an acrid taste in his mouth, and he wondered how long this deplorable heat would exacerbate his misery.

Would there be no end to this, he asked himself.

As if answering his question, Luva suddenly broke the silence.

"In an hour or so, we should reach the edge of the forest," she reported, "and not long after that, we should reach the Spear & Plow," she looked at her companion, reading his tormented expression, and consoled him, "Worry not, outlander. There will be food, drink, song, and all manner of merriment," she finished, with a patronizing smile. The tone of her voice reflected this, but Tyler took it in good stride.

Luva.

Luva Afara was his saving grace in this strange new world.

It had only been five weeks he had been here, but he would have met his end if she had not been there to guide him. He thought of her as his mentor --his teacher. He also had other thoughts about her, but of a more prurient nature. She was, after all, the quintessence of elven beauty. She had long straight auburn hair that she kept neatly tied in a bun --secured with a pair of black, lacquered sticks. Her face had angular, yet delicate features, that led to her pointed ears. Her body was lithe, but was still shapely, with a bosom that was slightly large for her frame, and the green leather halter and skirt that she wore accentuated an already near perfect figure. The elf-maid carried a wooden staff, and a bow --both finely crafted by master-artisans of her race. She had not only seductive wiles, but was also deadly accurate in combat.

Although Tyler depended on the beautiful elf for his survival, in the beginning, he now had become dependent on her friendship. Back home he was a social pariah --a geek, a nerd. Sci-fi movies, comic book conventions, and role-playing games were his passions. All the ingredients necessary were present to make him an outcast. But there was one thing, one activity, in which he participated, that paid off, and in this world, it meant the difference between life and death for him: The MCS. The Medieval Combat Society, to which he was an active member, was a group of people that got together for the purpose of beating the hell out of each other with wooden swords, and such. And it was not boastful to say, that he was one of the best. He was not only in fairly good physical condition, but had excellent reflexes and coordination. Tyler might have been a great athlete if the desire had been present to pursue such ends, but that path was not for him. Natural athleticism aside, his days with the MCS had not been a waste of time, and he had simply traded his sword of rattan for one of steel.

He reflected upon his arrival --now, nearly thirty-seven days ago.

Sitting at his computer, playing his favorite MMORPG --a game called Everrealm- he suddenly felt the onset of a panic-attack. While he had had one or two in the past, this one made him feel as if his body was coming apart at the seams. A terror so complete, moved over him, and he was convinced that this was the end of his meaningless existence --blackness, oblivion. But that was not the case for Tyler, the next he was the grassy banks of a mountain stream. And now, he was here; walking down the road with Luva, off to find adventure and riches, but mostly he wanted to find shade.

The outlander's wish came true only minutes later, and he felt such exquisite relief as they passed into the first copse of trees that marked the edge of the forest. Not long after that, exquisite relief became utter bliss as he saw the inn come in to view. The main building was rustic in form, but stalwart in construction. It was, essentially, an expansive two-story log cabin mortared with white clay. There were three other outbuildings: a small clapboard shack that was obviously the privy, a rather nice livery stable, and the bathhouse. The bathhouse was an opulent structure in juxtaposition to its neighbors. It was a building of stone that had an almost temple-like flair. This reminded the two of how much a proper bath would be welcome. Washing off the grime of the road had started to seem like a luxury that neither could afford until this moment. But first, they would sate their overwhelming desire of a hot meal, and some good drink.

While still a short distance from the main entrance, they could hear the sound of voices in jovial conversation, and lively music coming from the inside. But most of all, they could smell the savory aroma of the food that they longed for so much. It seemed as if this was the longest, and most arduous part of their journey, as they made their approach to the large open door of the Spear & Plow Inn.

Once inside, Tyler rubbed his eyes as to adjust to the dim light of the main hall. When his vision had cleared, he scanned the room. It was mostly local farmers, artisans, and merchants from the nearby farming village of Gladwell, but there were also a handful of adventurer-types there. But what caught his attention was a most drunken dwarf bellowing out his dwarven ballads of battle and glory, and the rather bemused minstrel that accompanied him on the lute. His rich baritone voice would periodically slip out of key, and this seemed to amuse the musician --as a sly smile would cross his face every time his short and stocky companion would hit a sour note. Two serving wenches were flitting about the tables, with multiple tankards in their hands, serving favored libations to the customers. All in all, the Spear & Plow had a welcoming atmosphere, and the two began to feel at ease.

It was not long before Tyler and Luva were sitting at a table, each with a large bowel of a hearty beef stew and a large mug of ale, and it was then that they felt the cares of the outside world begin to melt away. As their bodies began to relax, so did their minds. The daily hardships that had plagued them on the road started to become a distant memory.

After their meal, the pair paid, up front, for all the comforts the inn could provide. The innkeeper was a gracious man, and thanked them for their custom; but he had no idea how grateful they were --a hot bath, and a soft bed seemed a hedonistic luxury. They would have paid a king's ransom for such creature comforts -at this point.

As the sun slipped below the horizon, and darkness overtook the daylight, the lamps inside the Spear & Plow Inn were being lit by the houseboy. Tyler and Luva sat at the same table, discussing tomorrow. They would continue north; the farther they got from the capitol, the greater the chances they would have finding adventure and the opportunity for wealth. It was then that a most strange and unusual visitor interrupted the evening's festivities.

The crowd went dead silent as a female orc strode into the Spear & Plow. All eyes were upon her as she made her way to the center of the throng. She walked erect, and not hunched over like many of her savage kind --in fact, one could say that there was conspicuous nobility to her posture. The armor she wore was a piecemeal combination of plate, chain, and leather; and she carried a large flanged mace strapped across her back. Although she had the low-rent-sword-for-hire look, it did not detract from the confident and proud image that she projected.

While some stared aghast in abject terror, the more advent-urous types in the room shifted in a subtle way to be ready for action. But none the less, the new arrival had the full attention of the inn when she spoke, "Good folk," her voice lacked the familiar rasp of her race, "I mean you no harm, nor ill will. I am yet another traveler in need of the hospitality of this fine establishment," her words sounded rehearsed, "I pray you, do not judge me by the way I look. I am no beast. All I seek is a full stomach, and a warm soft place to sleep --a bit of rest," the honesty of this was reflected in her eyes, "Please," she cast her gaze on the barman, "good innkeeper, a bowl of stew, and a tankard of mead --if you would be so kind?"

At this, the orcess put a few silver coins on the counter, and cast an expectant gaze upon the man behind the bar. They both locked eyes for what seemed an eternity, but after a brief moment her shrugged as if to say, coin is coin, and filled her order. The tension was suddenly released from the room, and everyone turned back to their business, their jokes, their laughter, as if nothing was amiss.

Only scant moments had passed before the two noticed the new arrival looming over them.

"Pray pardon, good folk," the she-orc broke in, "but may I join you," she queried, most politely.

Without seeking approval from his companion, Tyler answered, "Of course, please sit, join us." The look in Luva's eyes seemed to say that her comrade was being too presumptuous, and if it were up to her she would have politely denied this request.

Placing her bowl and cup on the table, she took a seat, and said graciously, "Oh, I do thank you. I have been traveling so long by myself, I have almost forgot the sound of another voice, and I could stand for some good conversation. I am Sola, and what may I call you?"

"I am Tyler, and this is Luva," he replied, and went on to say, "No thanks are necessary, Sola, you are most welcome at our table," he paused momentarily before he asked, "So, what brings you to these parts?"

"Mmm," she said with a mouth full of stew, as if to plead for a moment to finish, and then said, after she swallowed, "Nothing in particular, employment, adventure, perhaps the opportunity to bring some justice into these oppressive times."

This answer astounded Luva, and her obvious surprise was written all over her face --this did not go unnoticed by their guest. The elf had been sitting there in an uncomfortable silence. Notice-ably upset by Sola's presence, she made no attempt to hide this fact, but when her expression suddenly changed, the orcess took the opportunity to drive the point home. Shifting her gaze solely upon the elf-maid, she addresses her directly, "Luva, you must realize that I was raised amongst humans --as I am half human. My mother was my father's victim. His raiding party attacked my mother's village, and she was ravaged, but left alive. This is a rare occurrence indeed, lest half-orc bastards populate the world.

"As a child, I found I was stronger and more resilient than my peers, but I was also more given to fits rage. It took many years of learning the control and self-discipline to quell the beast that resides within me, and I found that control -in using my superior prowess to help others. It gave me a sense of purpose, brought inner peace, and gave me the strength to subdue that savage part that was my father," she stopped talking for a few seconds, and concluded, "Now, I have made this my life's work --helping those being bullied by tyrants that cannot help themselves."

Sola leaned back from the table, as if to let the others know she was done telling her tale, and waited for a reaction from the elf-maid. It came none too soon.

"Well then, Sola, forgive me my prejudices," Luva said, somewhat abashed, "I have misjudged you. Forgive me, and let us talk of this no more."

She accepted the apology with a smile, and a simple nod.

The tension was gone from the table, and Luva joined in on the conversations, as if nothing had happened, but the little elf now noticed something that vexed her further: Tyler was completely taken in by the tales that the half-orc weaved of her adventures. He sat in rapt interest with his eyes fixed utterly on their guest.

She suddenly felt the pangs of jealousy well within her. Feeling as if Tyler was somehow hers, his attentions were likewise hers, and not to be shared --especially not with this monstrous-looking upstart, that now joined them. He had, in the past, made several advances toward her, and now she regretted gently refusing them. She recalled his clumsy flirtations, that silly amorous gaze he would cast her way, and she found that she was smiling at the memory.

Alas, her elven sensibilities had got the best of her, and she formulated a plan to show the outlander precisely where his passions laid. After all, she was the elf. All human men lusted after them, and why not? They were the fairest --the most beautiful and elegant of the races. No man could resist the seductions of her kind.

"We have acquired a room for the night," she butted in the middle of one of Sola's tales, "We would be honored if you would share it with us."

Surprised by the interruption, the other two snapped their heads to face her. There was a moment of awkward silence, and then the she-orc answered, "I am grateful for your hospitality; it would be impolite to decline. I thank you, Luva. Then you will allow me to buy the next round of drinks, will you not?"

It was agreed, and it was not long after that the three retired to the bathhouse for that long-awaited cleansing each one desired so much.

The inside of the bathhouse was polished granite with teak wood floors. In the center was a large bathing pool --perhaps, ten feet across. A swirl of steam rose up from the water, as a warning of its temperature. Obviously, there was some sort of underground furnace directly below. There was no expense was spared in its construction. The accommodations here vastly outstripped the rustic simplicity of the other buildings, and the three companions were more than willing to take advantage of this.

As they began to strip down, Tyler reflected upon something he had noticed since his arrival here. The people of this world were less prudish, and somewhat earthy, when it came to nudity and sexuality than in his world. There was no attempt at modesty, no shame, no pretense as armor and clothing fell to the floor. But still, he turned himself away, in puritanical embarrassment, so the other two would see the least of his naked form.

In this, the outlander was a bit of a hypocrite, because he turned his head, and salaciously drank in the visage of the females before him. His eyes swept to and fro -in comparative glances. The elf had ample, yet unexaggerated curves to her hips, waist, and bust line, while the half-orc was bold in her shape. With large firm breasts, flared hips, long legs, and an ass that was both solid and supple, she had the body of a comic book heroine --a body devised in the mind of an under-sexed artist with too much time on his hands. Libidinous images ran through his mind uncontrollably as his gaze went to Luva, and then back to Sola, and back again. The elf-maid's skin was touched a golden tan by the sun, while the areas that her clothing covered were milky white, with nipples that were a rosy- peach. As most of her elven-kind, she had no hair below here neck. The orcess was a light shade of olive green with nipples of an umber hue. And other than a heart-shaped birthmark on her left hip, her skin was unblemished --as most orcs were covered in unsightly warts and a myriad of other dermal eruptions. By human standards of beauty, her face was not very attractive, but that body...

The physical affectation, of this state of mind, began to take hold of him, and he rushed to get into the water -as to avoid any indignity from his swelling member. This did not go unnoticed by Luva, and it was plain to her the reason for his alacritous retreat. She began to wonder if it was the sight of her, or Sola, that caused his actions. Maybe, it was both? Maybe, that boyish innocence he displayed was just a cloak that covered a wanton, and rakish, libertine lurking beneath. Did he want to take her, or the she-orc? Or, did he want to lecherously take both of them? She pondered this as she immersed herself into the hot pool, and entertained the idea of also seducing their new-found friend.

After Sola had joined them in the bath, the houseboy entered, retrieved their clothing to be laundered, and left behind robes and drying cloths for the three. Then he exited as quickly, and silently, as he entered. And when the door closed behind him, the conversation started anew --this time, however, Luva steered the subject in the direction that she wanted.

"Sola," the elf began, "you have told of many tales this evening, but do you have any amorous conquests you wish to share?" Her tone was playful, flirtatious, a bit pretentious, and spoken through a sly grin.

"Why, Luva," she shot back in mock astonishment, "A lady does not kiss and tell!" She ended with the same sly grin of the one who asked the question, as the laughter rang out, "You know what human females are like when they begin their journey into womanhood? Well orc females, even a half-orc female, is that! Ten, fold!

"I am not sure if this was harder on me, or my mother," she said reflectively, as a few more chuckles sounded, "There was not a boy that was safe from my lustful desires, and I went through all in an effort to find one that could slake my passions, but to no avail. They were so young and inexperienced, they really did not know what they were doing, but then again, neither did I.

"It was not until I was sent to be a house maid for Tyram, the Blacksmith, that I found what I was looking for. You see, he had recently lost his wife, and he had no skill as a housekeeper, or a cook. So, my mother arranged for his services in exchange for my labors.

"He was a lonely and sad man, and as I was somewhat of an outcast, it was not long before we fell into each others' arms." She went on to recount their covert encounters, spending the hours of the early evenings in his bed, and their midnight meetings in the peach orchard. She went on to describe the feelings of not only sexual gratification, but also the acceptance, and affection, that she felt at the hands of this forlorn man.

"But something like this, in a village that small, cannot be kept secret. It was not long before we were discovered, and the busy, little gossip-hens pounced on the affair like a pack of ravenous wolves. Alas, that is what brings me here today, as I was forced to leave my home, with my mother in tears." Sola concluded, staring off into space, as if recalling the melancholy images in her mind.

Upon seeing the expressions of such longing on the faces of the other two, she began to chuckle, and declared, No, no, no, my good friends, it was nothing so gentle or warm with Tyram. The man had desires so unseemly that most human females would find them too perverse to satisfy --he was perfect for me!"

Once again, uproarious laughter echoed off the hard walls of the bathhouse.

A few minutes later, all having cleaned themselves thoroughly, they exited the pool, donned their robes, and headed back to the room for the night.

The lamps in the room had already been lit before their arrival. They gave off an orange glow that made all colors more vibrant and alive --giving it a more welcoming atmosphere. The accommodations were simple, yet adequate. A table, two chairs, a chest, and one very large feather bed occupied the space, and Luva beamed at the fact that there was only one bed. It could not have been more fortuitous for her plan even if she had prearranged it.

Sola noticed her expression upon seeing that there was only one bed, and her suspicions -that the little elf was up to something- were confirmed. The orcess, not being one to waste time with pretense, decided to cut to the quick, "My new friends," she started in a matter-of-fact tone, "I have never been one to stand on ceremony, so let us not tarry, and begin what has been in the elf's mind all evening." With this, she pulled the robe from her strong shoulders, and let it fall to the floor -exposing her voluptuous naked form.