Hall of the Elf Lord

"There are the satyrs," she sneered. Through the brush just there." She stopped and pointed ahead to a thicket that formed a wall across the forest before him. "I will return to the hall," she said. "I have no wish to endure the courtings of the satyrs. Go kill them for me."

Without further comment, she turned and headed back in the direction of the lord's hall, or so Vesian assumed for he was well and totally lost in this forest.

"Will you show me the way back?" he called. She turned over her shoulder and regarded him with slight amusement again. "This forest all looks the same to me," he said with a helpless shrug.

"I will return to meet you when you are done," she said. "And I will check on your companion for you. Fear not, you will not lose your guide." Her face darkened. "But if I see one breathing satyr when I return, you are on your own."

Then she stepped into the trees and her green gown merged with the forest foliage. She was gone. Vesian stood alone under the boughs, hearing the breeze in the branches and the satyrs' raucous bellowing. With a sigh, he turned toward the hollow.

He walked along the edge of the thicket until he came to a place where it thinned enough to admit him. The forest floor sunk away into a hollow, and he had to follow a dim and twisting trail floored with rough flagstones until he emerged again into a bowl-shaped hollow roofed with thorny black branches. A series of rude tents of animal hide had been thrown up haphazardly around the bowl and more hides strewn over the ground. The light was dimmer here, blocked out by not only the trees above but also by the canopy of thorny vines overhead. Long shadows played along the walls, dancing by the light of a firepit at the center of the bowl, set with meat roasting in the open on spits. Satyrs sat by the fire, banging on crude drums as all around the bowl danced a band of satyrs in a wild press of bodies not unlike that which might be found in an infantry battle.

They sang and capered, their hairy chests and arms wet with spilled wine and the juices of meats. Long, thick cocks swung hard between their legs and among the score of them were buffeted about four naked women, their hair a mess and their bodies wet with sweat, spittle, and cum. Their eyes were at once glassy with drink and crazed with lust for their companions. Vesian felt his lip curl in disgust at the raw, primal display of base urges.

As Vesian entered, one satyr spied him and broke from the press to approach him, arms wide, smile broad, and horns shining in the firelight.

"Ah, another reveler!" he cried, his horn of wine sloshing about as he staggered forward. "Welcome! I am Maurdion, and this is my band. Have a drink, have a haunch, take a lass to bed or fuck her on her feet by the fire, it's all a revel to honor the Goddess herself!"

"I am here on business," Vesian said soberly. The satyr scoffed and waved a dismissive hand.

"There'll be none of that," he said, grabbing a cask of wine from where it lay on the ground. He uncorked it and topped off his drinking horn. "Have some fun with us, mortal! You are so short-lived, you must enjoy life while you can!"

Behind him, one of the women cried out in ecstatic delight as a satyr seized her by the hips and thrust his long, thick cock inside her. He pawed and clutched at her breasts and the others gathered around to watch, the satyrs stroking their long cocks and the women playing with themselves in their own turn.

"The orgy continues," Maurdion observed over his refilled horn of wine. "Come, these sluts are up for anything!"

"You must go," Vesian broke in. Maurdion stopped, his drinking horn raised to his lips, and regarded him curiously.

"Go where?" the satyr asked. "Is there better fun to be had elsewhere?"

"Perhaps. But I am commanded to send you away, and to slay you if you do not go."

"By whom? The lord of these lands has given us permission to stay, and his protection while we are here."

"Which lord has given you that?" Vesian asked.

"Saimdol, Lord of the Twilight Realm."

"He is the one who has commanded me to drive you out."

"Nonsense," Maurdion laughed. "Someone is playing a trick on you. He has given us his word."

Was this a trick? Vesian wondered. Had Valurra gone above and beyond her authority to dispose of a group of satyrs she found troublesome? Or was the satyr lying to him?

"I have been given orders by Saimdol to obey the commands of one of his kinswomen, and she has told me to send you away," Vesian elaborated, deciding it would be better to leave out her more specific commands.

Another satyr approached them, this one tall and muscular, with a scarred chest and a sword on his leather belt.

"Maurdion, bring the newcomer and join us. These mortal sluts are waiting impatiently for us."

"Ah, Ashan, this mortal tells me we must leave, by order of the Lord of the Twilight."

"He lies," Ashan growled. The satyr's hands went to his belt, and Vesian dropped his own hands to his sword hilt. "Just as well," Ashan continued in a low tone. "It's been too long since I've had a proper fight."

"I'm not looking for a fight," Vesian said hastily, "I'd like to settle this peacefully."

"Yet you come here and tell us to leave," Ashan shot back.

"Why?" Maurdion demanded. "So you can have our things for yourself? Mortals are always so greedy."

"I told you why," Vesian protested, "The elf lord has commanded you to leave."

"And I told you he has given us his protection. So you must be lying."

"Sydonas," Maurdion called over his shoulder, "Put that mortal slut aside and come here. This mortal is spoiling for a fight."

"I am not looking for a fight," Vesian repeated, but he could tell it was useless. The satyrs were set on fighting, so he might as well start it.

His sword flashed from its sheath and plunged into Ashan's chest. The satyr stared down at the blade in his belly with open-mouthed shock, and Maurdion shrieked with surprise. Vesian tore the blade out and sent a spray of blood arcing across the satyrs' camp and Maurdion's chest as well.

"Treachery!" he cried. "Murder, robbery, and villainy!" the satyr turned and ran for it, but Vesian hacked him down where he stood. The other satyrs turned toward him and stood stupid for a moment, the one named Sydonas paused in the middle of thrust into the woman in his arms. Maurdion sprawled across the ground at Vesian's feet, whimpering as he tried to grab at the wound in his back, and the others seemed unsure of what they were seeing.

Then their mind caught up and it was pandemonium. The women screamed, the satyrs roared, and Maurdion cried out in agonized desperation. Sydonas threw aside his lover and grabbed a heavy woodsman's axe from a pile of tools. He shoved past two other satyrs and advanced on Vesian, who was suddenly struck by how tall and broad the satyr was.

The other satyrs scattered, colliding with each other, their women, and theirs tents in a mad dash to safety. One ran through the firepit, scattering cinders and singing his thick body hair. His yelps faded in Vesian's mind as Sydonas approached, and he steeled his mind for battle.

The big satyr slapped the flat of his axe blade into his palm and snarled. Vesian raised his shield, not giving an inch.

"You made a big mistake coming here," Sydonas growled. "Now I'm going to hack off your limbs, fuck you raw, and eat you alive." Spittle flew from his mouth as he threatened, and his grotesquely huge cock stood pointing at Vesian. A wicked light gleamed in the satyr's eyes.

"Big words for a savage beast like you," Vesian retorted. His clothes were still wet and made his movements stiff, and the satyr was surprisingly agile for someone so big and drunk, but he could not imagine losing to such a bestial foe. "Enough talk, let's settle this."

"Agreed," the satyr snarled, and he lunged for Vesian. His long-hafted axe split the air with a terrifying keen, descending to shatter Vesian's skull. But even in his stiff, waterlogged clothes, Vesian was spritely enough to dodge aside, and his blade lashed back like a viper's fangs. Its point bit into the satyr's shoulder, drawing a bright line of red blood as it tore flesh and scarred bone.

But Sydonas was undeterred. More than that, the sight of his own blood drove him into a frenzy. The satyr whirled on Vesian, the axehead whipping through the air faster than his eye could follow. It was only the unconscious positioning of his shield, instilled in his by years of intensive training by his armsmasters, that diverted the blow up and away from him in a shower of splinters.

Yet the force of the strike still rang his arm and rattled his bones. He staggered back and fell to one knee. Sydonas advanced with a furious snarl and the axe slashed down again. Vesian rolled to the side and the axe bit deep into the dirt. Clods of earth were thrown about, but the satyr wasted little time is wrenching his axe free and resuming his assault.

Vesian got a foot underneath himself and climbed up on one knee. Sydonas swung across this time, aiming to cut him in half at the waist. Vesian leaned forward and caught the haft of the axe on his upper arm, leaving the blade to slash uselessly through the air behind him. The force of the blow knocked the air from his lungs, but he drove himself upward and rammed his head into the satyr's chest. Sydonas grunted and wrenched his axe toward him. The tip of the blade dug into Vesian's back; a minor annoyance thanks to his mail.

He stabbed upward into the satyr's flank with his blade and struck home. Sydonas howled with pain and dropped the axe. He staggered backwards, clutching at his side, but the movement only tore his wound wider. Vesian gave him no relief, and plunged his sword into the satyr's belly. He twisted it and ripped his foe open, spilling his entrails onto the dimly lit forest floor. The satyr toppled over, his mouth wide in shock and his limbs twitching their last. Vesian stepped over Sydonas and ran the blade through his throat.

"Why?" asked Maurdion from behind. Vesian turned. The wounded satyr lay on his side, his living companions scattered into the forest. Vesian stood over him.

"You would not leave," he replied.

"We only wanted fun. The lord gave us wine and food, he let us into his hall, he brought us women... I thought we were of one mind. He gave us protection."

"I did as commanded," Vesian said.

"Not yet," Maurdion replied weakly. "I have no strength to flee, so I will have to die. Finish it."

Vesian did as bidden. He then sat down on an upended wine cask and stared into the satyrs' dead eyes, wondering if this had been worth it.

---

When he at last decided he had no answers, he climbed the path out of the satyrs' hollow. He emerged to find Valurra standing with Lady Isabelle. The latter was still naked, her head bowed and her hands folded shyly in front of her shaven sex. Valurra stroked Isabelle's hair lovingly with one hand, the other placed possessively on the girl's lower back.

"She is free?" Vesian asked with surprise.

"She is released into my care for now. I have plans for her."

"Set her free at once," Vesian demanded.

"I am afraid I cannot, per the terms of Saimdol's enchantment. But her mind is free, for now."

"Is it? Lady Isabelle, are you free to speak your mind?"

"Yes, sir," she said meekly, trying in vain to cover her body. Vesian was suddenly uncomfortably aware of how much he was ogling her. But he could not help himself. She was a beautiful, naked, woman, and he had just been triumphant in a fight. It was well known among the knights of the Order that after a fight, a knight needed wine and a woman. Or two women.

He banished the thought from his mind. Lady Isabelle needed his help.

"Speak your mind, then," he commanded, and she did.

"My horse spooked," she began, clearly frightened by the memory. "I remember a strange fluting, and then my horse started galloping into the woods! I could do nothing but hold on and hope not to fall and break my neck!"

"Yes, it was an enchantment. But what of the lord's hall? Do you remember that?"

"I remember everything. I remember dancing, and the elves staring at me. They were waiting for Saimdol to give the order and then..."

"Yes," Vesian interrupted. "But he never did."

"They were going to fuck me!" she exclaimed with a shudder.

"They might still," Valurra murmured. Isabelle blushed and cast her eyes to the ground. Vesian scowled at the elf. "And who could blame them? You are so lovely to behold."

"The satyrs are gone," Vesian declared, eager to change the subject.

"Dead? Or merely gone?" Valurra asked.

"Three dead, the rest gone."

"Only three, what a pity."

"Who wanted them dead? Saimdol, or you?"

"Both," Valurra answered. "But Saimdol had promised them that no harm would befall them by his hand, so he needed to borrow yours. I think we both would have liked more of them dead, but you have done as asked, and I will complain no further. But now I have another task for you."

"Yes, the third and final task," Vesian prompted.

"Not quite," Valurra said with a sly smile. "This one is for me, not my lord."

"Then I won't do it. Give me Saimdol's third task and let me take Isabelle back home."

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice," the elf replied. "She is in my care, and I set the tasks."

"This is not what we agreed," Vesian growled, his hand tightening around his sword hilt.

"It is not," Valurra agreed with a shrug. "But nevertheless, unhand your sword, it will do you no good."

Vesian instead tightened his grip, but the sword suddenly grew hot in his hand. It seared him, burning through the mail to reach his hand. With an unknightly yelp, he let go and shook his hand out in the cool forest air. "Sorcery!" he hissed.

"It is one of my many talents," Valurra purred. "But now you must show me one of yours. Draw your other sword, my dear knight, and pleasure this mortal maid before me. I would have a demonstration of your skills."

"A demon... you want me to fuck her?!" he gasped in shock. Isabelle squeaked in surprise, then blushed a deep red and wrapped her arm tighter over her breasts.

"I do," Valurra murmured. "She is lovely, and I find you alluring as well. Consider it a test. Pass, and you will enjoy my favor on your third and final task."

"I won't," Vesian insisted. "The lady is a prisoner here."

"She doesn't mind, do you, girl?" Valurra tilted the girl's chin up to look her in the eye. "I can tell you want him." Isabelle blushed deeper.

"Unhand her," Vesian snapped, but Valurra paid him no mind. Vesian grabbed for his sword again, but the scorching heat forced him to let it go, this time with a hiss of pain.

"You want him to fuck you?" Valurra asked again, and this time Isabelle managed a little nod.

"Yes," she squeaked, and Vesian felt his mouth fall open. Her body was no less alluring here than it had been in Saimdol's hall. Her raven hair hung down to her wide waist, and creamy pink nipples topped her small breasts. Her sex was shaven and glistened with moisture, her bare skin pimpling with gooseflesh in the cool breeze of the forest. Valurra ran a lustful hand down the girl's side and slid it across to caress her sex. The elf nibbled at her ear, and Isabelle trembled, biting back a shy smile.

"She wants you, Sir Vesian," Valurra whispered, turning to face Vesian, her cheek against Isabelle's own. They made an exquisite pair, one nude and the other in a forest green gown. Valurra's blue eyes stared hard at him while Isabelle's fixed timidly on the grass beneath them. "Will you give her what she wants?"

Vesian clenched his fist. He wanted her, he could not deny it. His cock was standing up for her and his heart burned with desire. It was only the three of them here.

He felt himself nod. Valurra smiled in triumph.

"This way then," she purred. She led Isabelle by the hand to a stream, Vesian following numbly behind them. The elf left Isabelle standing in the grass on the bank, then seated herself on a log laying across the stream and spread her arms wide. "Well, lovers, make love!" she commanded.

Isabelle turned shyly toward Vesian, still with an arm over her breasts and a hand over her sex. Her cheeks were a deep shade of red, but her green eyes sparkled. Vesian had seen that look in countless women before, usually just before they stripped down and swallowed his cock. The only difference now was that Isabelle was already naked.

He stepped forward to Isabelle and raised a gentle hand to her face.

"Are you sure about this?" he whispered, and Isabelle paused a moment, then nodded.

"Kiss me, my knight," Isabelle whispered back to him and his resistance crumbled. He wrapped her in his arms, pressing her naked body against his cold armor, his surcoat still damp from the enchanted pool. She was hot to his touch, her lips soft but insistent against his, and he clutched at her ass with his mailed gauntlets.

"What sort of knight handles a lady with mailed hands?" Valurra teased from her seat. "Strip naked and take her!"

Isabelle bit her lip in anticipation, staring into Vesian's eyes. She giggled as she gently laid a hand on his swordbelt, and Vesian began to strip. He felt Valurra's eyes boring a hole through him as he pulled his surcoat over his head and threw it aside.

"Kneel before him," Valurra commanded, "and suck his cock."

Isabelle went to her knees before him and he produced his hard cock from his trousers. She smiled in eager anticipation and took it in her hand, stroking it slowly but firmly with one hand. Her other hand caressed her body on its way down between her legs, where she began to play with herself. Vesian stroked her hair, winding a hair through it like a horse's reins as she lowered her lips to kiss his cock.

"Suck it," Valurra commanded, and Isabelle giggled. She laid the cock against her cheek and looked up to Vesian with piercing green eyes as she slid it along her face and between her lips. Her touch was soft and warm, her kisses gentle and her fingers deft. Her tongue touched his cockhead, and Vesian shuddered with ecstasy. He put a hand on the back of her head and pushed her down his cock until her nose pushed into his belly.

Vesian threw his head back as Isabelle went to work. Her hands stroked his chest and balls, her tongue caressed his cock, and her lips brushed at his belly went she all the way down on him. He held her head in his hands and held her still as he thrust into her mouth. Opening his eyes, he stared down into hers. Isabelle smiled around the cock thrusting into her mouth and his mouth fell open. The sight of him stared wide-eyed and wide-mouthed at her caused her to giggle again, a delightful, playful sound muffled by the cock between her lips.

Slowly, he turned his head to regard Valurra sitting on her log. The elf was feeling her breasts through her green gown, her teeth biting her lower lip as she watched. Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. Just amusement, Vesian remembered the nymph saying.

"Play with her cunt," Valurra commanded now. Vesian bent over Isabelle, who spread her legs for him, and pinched the bead of her sex between two fingers. Isabelle shuddered and moaned at there mere touch, and Vesian heard Valurra murmur in appreciation. He released her hair and squeezed her breast in his free hand as he played with her sex. Isabelle moaned around his cock. He slipped two fingers deep inside her and explored the depths of her cunny as Valurra had commanded.

Isabelle whimpered with pleasure and grabbed at the hand inside her, only for Vesian to grab her hand himself.

"Both hands on the cock," he demanded, and she nodded her head in agreement. Her green eyes stared pleadingly into his, and Valurra sided with Isabelle.