Elf Maidens of Thurn Pt. 01

Elf Maidens of Thurn

Chapter 1: An impossible problem to solve.

"In short, you are tasked with solving the Elf Maiden problem," says the Chief Procurator, bringing his twenty minute monologue to an end.

"I was under the impression that General Wang was attending to that matter," I reply.

"He was. As was Lord Grenville and Justice Fallow before him. All failures. Men whose brains are in their cocks. Which is why I'm giving you the task. You are eminently qualified."

"What qualification are you referring to?" I ask.

"You are friends with the Emperor's daughter, so the Emperor might at least consider whatever you propose without rejecting it out of hand."

My brief platonic relationship with Cassandra while we were studying history together under Professor Hans hardly gives me a gateway to the Emperor's favour. But the Chief Procurator isn't going to listen to any argument on that point. Both he and I know that I'm being given this hopeless task because he regards me as a threat to his position.

The obvious solution to the so-called Elf Maiden problem would be to return the Elven women to their homeland. But that's too simple a solution for the rulers of Thurn. The Emperor is reputed to have a harem of thirty Elf Maidens, and I suspect he has no interest in parting with any of them. It's a miracle his cock hasn't worn down to nothing.

The whole issue is one of biology. The continent of Thurn enjoys a pleasant temperate climate for most of the year. But winters are brutal, and deadly for infants and the old alike. Over the ages nature has adapted the reproductive clock of Thurnian women so that they are only fertile for three weeks in summer. Babies are born in the spring so that they have a much greater chance of survival during the next winter. But nature didn't just alter the reproductive clocks of women. A male Thurnian can only have an erection when he detects the pheromones of a fertile woman. It has been nature's way of ensuring peace and harmony for centuries. Except, of course, in the short rutting season, which is when men get territorial and possessive. During those three weeks or so, normally docile men get aggressive and fight over the right to ram their cock into an equally eager woman.

The well established lifecycle on Thurn changed fifty years ago when the Southern continent was discovered. Unlike Thurn, the Southern continent has a tropical climate, and there's food in abundance all year round. At first the explorers thought the continent was uninhabited, but deep in the jungle they discovered a nomadic race of people the explorers called Elves. Of course, they weren't the Elves of fairy tales, but the name has stuck. To look at them they appear identical to any Thurnian man or woman. Except for their ears, which are larger than usual, and explains why the Elven race was so named. The Southern forests are home to several species of large predatory animals who hunt by stealth rather than speed. Sharp hearing is essential to survival in the jungle, and consequently nature has adapted the Elves over the centuries. The most important discovery of the encounter... at least for a Thurnian man... is that Elven women are fertile for ten days every month. In the rich miasma of the tropical forests, the pheromones a fertile Elven woman emits are particularly strong. The explorers suddenly discovered their cocks were standing to attention and more than one Elven woman was happy to make use of what was on offer.

That spelt disaster for the Elven people they met. The now rampant Thurnian men rounded up as many Elven women as they could find and transported them back to Thurn. Any Elven man who objected was promptly killed. It was probably one of the most inglorious episodes in Thurnian history.

Over the last half century more has been learnt about the Elven women. Originally they were classified as domestic pets and were required to wear a collar and leash. Over time laws have been passed to give them a place in Thurnian society, albeit a very lowly one. The requirement for them to be kept on a leash was revoked, but the need for them to wear a collar still remains for some illogical reason.

The discovery that an Elven woman can become pregnant after copulating with a Thurnian man meant the Elven population in Thurn quickly increased. However, the child born from such a union is always female and an exact clone of her mother. It seems that while a Thurnian male can trigger an Elf's gestation, his seed plays no part in determining the features of the child.

Although no longer classified as pets, Elves are effectively third class citizens in Thurn. They have few legal rights, and they may only live in designated ghettoes, and work in particular trades. While in their pungent fertile state, they are banned from being indoors when they are away from their ghetto. Not that any man seems to mind. The stronger the smell the harder his cock becomes. And an Eleven woman is equally helpless to the effects of nature. When in heat she craves for a man's cock as much as any man wants it inside her.

The law defines an Elf Maiden as an adult female Elf under the age of thirty. Since the harsh life of Elves rarely enables them to live long enough to reach thirty, the upper age limit is a pointless distinction. The population of Elf Maidens isn't supposed to exceed 2,000 throughout all of Thurn at any one time. The brutal winters and the occasional cull of adolescent Elves keep the population under some form of control, and Elven babies born too near to the start of winter also have poor chance of survival.

The annual census of the Eleven population is an approximation at best. It is common knowledge that more and more Elf Maidens are being secreted away in the harems of powerful Thurnian men, and no census includes them. The Emperor may have the largest known harem, but he is by no means the only wealthy man who has one. Even the Chief Procurator is reputed to have three Elf Maidens kept on his estate.

So how am I expected to solve a problem that no Thurnian man wants solving. The reality is that despite the overall increase in population, the indigenous population of Thurn is declining. Behind the smoke screen of blaming Elf Maidens for the problem, the fall in the indigenous population is the actual issue of concern. In part... a substantial part, to my mind... the decline in population is because of the increase in male aggression which has triggered more than one bloody war over the last few decades. Wars which have directly or indirectly ended the lives of many hard-to-replace Thurnians.

Unfortunately, such casualties are dismissed as irrelevant by the sages and scholars who have the ear of the Emperor. Their collective wisdom holds that the cause of the population decline is because Thurnian men are too busy fucking Elf Maidens all year round, and breeding more Elves, to mate with a Thurnian woman during the rutting season. Their hypothesis is that the pheromones emitted by an Elf Maiden in heat are so much stronger than that of a Thurnian woman, that male instinct diverts his attention towards fucking as many Elves as he can. It's a theory that facts prove to be false. There has been no decline in the number of babies born to Thurnian women each year. It's simply that in recent years, the annual number of Thurnian deaths exceed the number of births for the first time in living memory.

I face a seemingly impossible task. If there was some way of allowing men to enjoy the pleasures of an Elf Maiden without triggering the unwelcome side effect of their macho aggression, then a solution might be found. But I can't see that ever happening.

The Chief Procurator gives me three months to come up with a solution. Clearly repeating the ideas of my predecessors on this thankless mission would be pointless. My first step is to review what my predecessors proposed. Justice Fallow had come up with the obvious solution of returning the Elves to the Southern continent. That idea met with the predictable lack of enthusiasm. Lord Grenville must have been drunk when he wrote his report because it is twelve pages of gibberish I doubt anyone understands but nobody was brave enough to tell him so. General Wang's proposal to execute all pregnant Elf Maidens was rejected as being too callous and cruel.

My next step needs to be learning more about the lives of Elf Maidens, and Elves in general. I've never set foot in one of their ghettoes, nor have I been to the farms and mines where many of the adolescent Elves live and work. It's something I must now remedy if I am going to have any chance of finishing my mission. The next morning I set off for the main Elven ghetto to the south of the city walls.

Chapter 2: Into the ghetto

The stench makes me gag as I walk towards the old abandoned docks. Not that the new docks further down stream smell any better. The stink of rotting seaweed, open sewers and garbage is overpowering. The pungent pheromones of fertile Elf Maidens must be like perfume by comparison. It shouldn't have surprised me that Elves are made to live in the least desirable parts of the city. How any living being can be expected to live in an area like this is beyond me. Nor is it a safe place to be. It's the haunt of criminals and drunks as well as those who, like the Elves, are banned from living inside the city walls. I waived the offer of an armed escort as I feared their presence would simply drive into hiding those I want to interview.

My first stop is at a run-down building proclaiming itself to be a House of Delight. It's the colloquial name for an Elven brothel that Elf Maidens frequent when they are in heat and are wanting to attract a male. Despite the wretched surroundings, trade seems to be steady. I enter the building and I'm immediately accosted by a scruffy old man.

"Entry charge is a groat," demands the man. "Negotiate a price with the wench of your choice."

I toss a small coin at the man and work my way to the back of the building. I'm not prepared for the sight before me. I suppose I should have done more research before venturing here, but there's no turning back now. Three semi-naked Elf Maidens are sat on rickety beds. The mattresses are badly stained from what must have been years of use. One of the Elves has her face and chest covered in what appears to be a man's cum... several men's cum more likely. As uncomfortable as her condition must be, she is making no effort to clean herself up. I scrunch my face in disgust.

"We mean no offence, sir," says the one in the middle, clearly unsettled by a well dressed man being here. "A copper coin will buy you the use of my cunt."

"I'm not here to satisfy base desires. I am doing work for some important people and I need to learn more about your lives here in Thurn. Will one of you talk to me and help me get the information I need?"

The three Elf Maidens look at each other trying to assess whether I'm a threat or not. They talk briefly in what I assume is their native language. These women must be second or third generation clones of the captured Elven women, so who has taught them their native language? None of the original captured Eleven women will still be alive today. The survival of their native language is something none of the scholarly articles I've read about the Elves of Thurn bother to mention.

Our discussion is interrupted by the entry of a man wearing the sort of clothes typically worn by a tradesman. He ignores me and stands in front of the three Elf Maidens with his cock already out of his pants.

"Two bronze bits for the wench who will satisfy my cock," he offers.

It's an insulting offer to my mind. Two bronze bits will just about buy a bread roll. Hardly a fair price for sex with an attractive woman, even if she is an Elf. But the Elf Maiden covered in cum readily accepts the offer. The man tosses the coins onto her bed and she spreads her legs wide. There's a noticeable increase in the smell of her pheromones coming from her pussy. It has the desired effect of making the man's cock go rock hard. It causes my cock to rise as well. Stupidly, I hadn't prepared myself for this.

I assumed he would fuck her, but he simply masturbates in front of her and adds his cum to what is already covering her. The whole transaction is over in less than three minutes. He leaves without saying a word.

"Why do you look so puzzled, Sir?" asks the talkative Elf.

"I always believed that Thurnian men fuck you when they want sex."

"Some do, but many simply spill their seed over us. If they fuck us, then we may become pregnant. A pregnant Elf is no use for sex as she stops producing the scents that trigger a man's cock. Far better for them to keep us in this state, even if it deprives us of the satisfaction we crave. Besides, people are already complaining about there being too many Elves. It wasn't all that many years ago when hundreds of adolescent Elves were rounded up and sent to work in the death camps in the mountains. None of those taken survived the following winter."

"Which is something I hope my work will put an end to, but I need your help. Will you help me?"

"Are you willing to pay for my time? I could make a couple of silver coins here today if I'm lucky."

Somehow I doubt she would earn anything like that sum if I left them to their trade, but I'm desperate for more information.

"Two silver coins for your time until dusk. An extra silver coin tomorrow if I find today's information helpful and I need to learn more."

"OK. I agree," says the Elf with an eagerness that confirms she was lying when she estimated her likely earnings in this wretched place.

"Good," I say as I hand her one silver coin. "One now, one at dusk. Is there somewhere more private we can talk?"

"I know a place nearby where we won't be disturbed. Follow me."

"Do you have a name?" I ask, realising I've no idea about the naming customs of Elves.

"DF35," comes the reply.

"That's your serial number, not a name," I reply. "Don't you call yourselves by any other name?"

"No. It's the only name I have. I'm the fifth child of the third child of the Elf taken from our homeland and given the designation DF. See. My name is tattooed on my inner arm. All Elves are named by the same rule and are so marked. It is the law here. Did you not know?"

The level of my ignorance is becoming all too apparent. I had no idea about any of this.

"I'm sorry, but this is all new to me. When we first met you spoke with your two friends in a language I've not heard before. Is that your native language?"

"I don't know. It's a language all of us are taught to speak when we are infants. Our knowledge of the Thurnian language comes later. Our upbringing isn't like yours. As soon as we are weaned we are placed in a communal crèche and looked after by adolescent Elves. They teach us what we are allowed to know."

"Do they teach you to read and write?"

"No. We aren't given any education as you know it. We are only taught the crafts and trades that Elves are allowed to work. Some of us are skilled at metalwork, others at in working with leather. Those who show no talent for either are trained as farmhands, foresters or miners."

"And what are you skilled at doing?" I ask.

"Metalwork. I make collars like the one I'm wearing. And metal bracers which are favoured by some of us."

She leans towards me demonstrates the fine craftwork of the copper collar and bracers she wears. Her close proximity causes my normally limp cock to come to life. Perhaps I should have found and Elf who isn't in heat.

I thought I was well read in the histories of the Elven population on Thurn. But what I've learned in the last few hours only proves how little I really know about them. I suppose if I had thought about it, there is no reason why the collar the law requires an Elf to wear cannot be a decorative piece of art.

"What about clothes? Do any of you make traditional Elven clothes?"

"Elves don't have traditional clothes. In our homeland we don't need them, and they would only get in the way. We wear jewellery and ornate pieces to express our tastes, but as for clothing, the little we wear here is simply to avoid offending your Thurnian sensibilities."

"But you suffer deaths from the cold in winter just like a native of Thurn."

"We use what we can find to cover ourselves to keep warm in winter. But our biggest challenge in winter is that we need to eat and we need fuel for our workshops. Both are very expensive during winter and many of us are left without any income when the farms and forestry operations close for the season. Nobody pays an Elf enough to enable her to save money for the winter ahead. So some of us simply starve to death over winter."

"But Elves are allowed access to the communal food warehouses during winter," I say.

"The law grants us access to the warehouses, but all the warehouses are located inside the city walls. We are forbidden from passing through the city gates during winter."

I recall that about ten years ago, the City Aldermen ordered all the food warehouses to be moved inside the city walls so that the supplies can be easily controlled. How did they manage to overlook the problems that would cause the Elven population?

"My job is going to be much harder that I first thought," I say. "I may need your assistance for longer than I said. Will you help me?"

"For a silver coin a day?" she asks expectedly.

"I can't afford that much. Two silver coins for a week of your time."

"Hmm. I'll accept two silver coins if you also help me with two things."

"Which are?"

"Firstly, my younger sister was among twenty of us who were rounded up last week. Some of those taken were later returned, but we believe the rest are destined for the harems being set up by powerful Thurnian men. I want you to find her, and if you can, free her."

"How will I recognise her?" I ask. She looks at me in amazement before I realise my blunder. "Oh! She looks exactly like you."

"Yes. Her name is DF36 which is tattooed on her inner arm."

"OK. I'll make enquiries, but if she's already inside a man's harem, I'm unlikely to be able to reach her. What's your second request?"

"I need you to fuck me."

Before I can come out of my stunned silence, she has removed her short skirt and lain back on a pile of sacks. She spreads her legs and the magic odour she releases has my cock swelling in seconds. Like many Thurnian men, I've never had sex outside of the rutting season before. I haven't associated with Elves before today, so this experience is new to me. But my cock is in command of my actions. Unlike the man I saw earlier, I've no intention of masturbating in front of her. I drop my pants and promptly ram my engorged cock into her like a piston. She's tight like a virgin, although I doubt that she is one. She is wet and eager, which only increases my passion. All too soon I'm spilling my seed in plentiful quantity into her cunt. She moans in appreciation, although I can't tell if she reaches an orgasm. Indeed, I've no idea whether Elf Maidens ever have orgasms.

"I will need to go and make enquiries about your sister," I say once I can get my cock back into my pants. "Do you know where she and the others were taken when they were rounded up?"

"The Guild Hall on Westgate," she replies.

"OK. Where do I meet you tomorrow?"

"Here at nine o'clock."

I'm not sure I should be doing this but if it means I get a repeat of what happened just now, then I'm not going to pass on the opportunity. I am beginning to understand why men want to keep Elf Maidens within easy reach.

Chapter 3: An unintended acquisition

It is late afternoon by the time I reach the Guild Hall. I'm not hopeful that I can find the Elf I am seeking. According to her sister she was rounded up with about twenty Elf Maidens last week and brought here. It's highly unlikely that she'll still be in this building. But maybe somebody knows where she is now. I explain my situation to the man sat at a desk near the door.