The Elves of the Wood Pt. 01

They watched him travel the shaded mountain path through the heart of their village with a myriad of expressions written upon their elvish faces. Some seemed curious, others wary, while still more were impassive, but mostly he saw excitement. They were all dressed alike, if in fact they could be said to be dressed at all. They were mostly naked, with only a thin strip of loincloth draped between their thighs, and their bare breasts and bellies exposed to the sun's warmth. The villagers stood in a crowd fronting their modest thatched roof huts; mothers and their daughters, young women, youngling girls, and crones with silvery hair and wizened, weathered faces.

Drinnen stole quick glances as he led his pack mule along the village thoroughfare, its grade growing ever steeper as he neared the Queen's Hill. His destination was the formidable fortress of felled trees and set stone that loomed at its crest. He looked over his shoulder to see the thread of his path vanish as the villagers fell in procession behind him. His hefty walking pack was a great weight upon his shoulders, and his legs and back were weary from many days of foot travel, but onward he trod. Ranger, his trusty mule, ever followed him, and was packed high with countless trading wares, a hunting bow, and several mismatched pots and pans.

Stout-looking elf maidens holding long, sharpened spears flanked either side of the fortress's high gate. They wore a sort of light armor made from lacquered wood and iron, which covered their torsos and upper legs, and half-helms wrought from some glinting metal. They made no move to impede his progress, and gave him little more than a cool appraisal as he passed by.

Once through the gates, Drinnen led the villagers towards the Queen's royal pavilion. More guards were posted outside her door, and yet their captain, a broad, stout-looking elf-woman, stood aside as he neared, and motioned for him to enter. Drinnen obeyed with a curt nod, and, after offering Ranger a carrot, stepped from the bright glare of midday sun into the shaded darkness within.

The Elf Queen sat upon a modest throne of carved and lacquered wood. Drinnen thought her pavilion rather plain for a queen, though in truth the elf tribes of the deep wood were long rumored to care little for wealth or elegance.

"Hail, traveler," the queen spoke as she sat motionless and confident upon her throne. She wore a silvery strip of metal upon her head, and her long, chestnut hair flowed freely over her pointed ears to drape at her shoulders. She was beautiful and elegant to behold, and seemed younger than he had expected. She was garbed only slightly more ornately than her subjects, and wore a robe of the same silvery sheen as her crown. The robe was left open at her front which left her plump, round breasts exposed, as seemed customary to this race of elves. A wrought silvery stud impaled each of her round, pink nipples, and glinted softly in the torchlight.

"Your Highness," Drinnen replied, with a stiff, polite bow of his head. He felt a little unkempt to be in the presence of royalty, having been traveling for many days. His cotton tunic and trousers felt loose-fitting and plain; game had been scarce along his travels. His salt and pepper hair had grown shaggy, and he had not had the opportunity to shave for several days. Still, he stood tall and smiled a warm, courteous smile.

"I have come to you this day under the policies of Reeves Van Oosten, Lord Governor of the Sand Road, begging leave to travel your lands," he said loudly. "I make for the edge of the great Sand Sea, to trade with the many merchant princes who live upon its borders. I have many goods, my queen, and would be greatly humbled if you would choose a gift which I might bestow upon you as an act of kindness and goodwill."

"What is your name, traveler?" the queen asked placidly.

"You may call me Drinnen, my queen."

"My dearest Drinnen, there is indeed something I might request of you. It is, however, nary of your wares, I'm afraid. It seems as though you are not familiar with the plight of our village."

"That is fair to say, my queen," Drinnen said politely. "Please, make your request, and I shall do whatever is in my means to fulfill it."

"I have no doubts you will," the queen said with a sly smile. "As you likely have noticed, there are no men-folk here. Sadly, an enchantress cursed our village many generations ago. Since that fateful day, every elf-child born to every mother has been a girl. Slowly, over the years, our men died off, leaving our people with little hope for survival. Try as they might, our own mages were powerless to break her spell."

She gazed upon him impassively, and continued.

"Happily, our ancestors decided that we would indeed survive, though our ability to do so would largely depend on trade...and traders. For there were still ample men in the world, and in fact many of them sought passage through our lands, as you do. And so the price was set, all those years ago. Any man who wishes to pass through our wood must first spend three days and three nights here, with us. During that time, he will give us that of which we need most if we are to continue...his seed."

Drinnen raised an eyebrow.

"My...seed?" he stammered.

"Yes," the queen said quietly. "Your seed. The one thing that we cannot do on our own is conceive a child."

"And if I refuse?" Drinnen asked warily.

Suddenly, the queen laughed. It was a high, hearty laugh full of genuine mirth. The guards who stood next to her throne also smiled.

"My dear sir, what would be your reason for refusing? Are we all so hideous that you could not find it within your heart to lay with us?"

"No...I...only meant..." he stuttered, suddenly very aware of all the sniggering elven eyes fixed upon him.

"You may choose any of us who you might desire. Any of us who wish to be with child, that is. As is customary, all those who have accompanied you to this pavilion are presenting themselves for your consideration."

"I must choose now?" Drinnen asked, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Yes," the queen replied, seemingly amused. "You must choose now, and you must choose three. One day and one night with each. Take your time, my dear Drinnen, and choose as you see fit. May the gods bless your selections with fruitful pairings."

Drinnen glanced around the pavilion. Many of the same faces he had passed in the village watched him now, save the youngling girls who were not of age, and those villagers who were past their child bearing years. Some were slender and others curvy, some tall and some short, some blonde, while others had black, brown, or red hair. All of them were pretty enough after a fashion, though in a wild, fiery sort of way. Drinnen found himself overwhelmed.

Then, suddenly, he noticed a girl watching him with the hint of a smile upon her full lips. She seemed young, though not as young as some, and her blonde hair framed a slender face that was accentuated by deep blue eyes. Her breasts were small but shapely, and her arms and shoulders seemed strong, as though she used them often in her labors. Drinnen licked his lips and, after glancing at the queen, nodded quickly in the blonde girl's direction.

"Celeste Starspun," the queen's herald called out. "Come forward."

The blonde girl strode forward wearing a thin smile and stood next to Drinnen. She was about three quarters his height and even more beautiful standing close than she had looked from afar. Her skin was tanned and supple, and bright pink nipples crowned each of her soft breasts. She wore her hair down with small braids framing her face and many piercings in her pointed elvish ears. She stood tall and proud and addressed her queen with a small, fluid bow.

"Who is your next choice, Drinnen?" the queen asked calmly.

Again he found himself searching the myriad of bright faces. All of them were comely in their own ways and watched him with knowing eyes and subtle smiles.

Again, his eyes suddenly fixed upon one of them. This girl was taller than Celeste, and thinner, and kept her dark hair cut short so that it sat in curvy waves upon her head. Her eyes were a deep green, and her skin was nearly as pale as bone. Again Drinnen made his selection known to the queen.

"Annika of the Frostwoods," the herald said. "Come forward."

The pale girl swept away from the crowd with a tranquil smile and practiced elegance, like one who always carried herself as though she was being watched. She stood on Drinnen's other side, and though she was taller than Celeste, she was still half a head shorter than him. Her breasts were smaller still, as was her waist, and her small, puffy nipples were such a pale shade of pink that they were barely visible at all.

"And now, Drinnen, for your final selection," the queen said. He could feel some tension in the pavilion now, as though most of the villagers were hoping and praying to catch his eye. But he refrained from any further glances around the room, and instead cleared his throat.

"My queen," he said slowly, measuring his words. "You said all in this room are presenting themselves for my consideration?"

"Yes, that is so."

"Very well. I would humbly ask that you, my queen, would be my final choice. If you'll have me, that is."

The room went very still. Drinnen squinted, and wondered momentarily if he had made a mistake when suddenly the young queen smiled broadly.

"Of course I accept," she said as a subtle blush washed over her pleasant, girlish features.

"As is customary," the queen said after a few composing beats, "our guest's selections will each stay with him in the order they were made. Celeste, you will be first; then you, Annika. And then, my dear Drinnen, on the third day, you shall be my esteemed guest, and will attend me in my royal chambers."

Drinnen watched cautiously as the rest of the villagers began to file out of the royal pavilion. He glanced at both Celeste and Annika, who still stood at his side, and smiled. Celeste approached him first.

"It appears we will be getting to know each other tonight, under the stars' watchful gaze," she said sweetly, her blue eyes fixed upon his. "I have not been with a man in, well, longer than I care to recollect, truth be told. I thank the gods for your selection."

And with that, she rose up tall on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on a stubbled cheek. Then she smiled brightly and turned to leave. Drinnen then sensed Annika's gaze upon him and turned to address her.

"It is said that the second night is often the most fruitful," she said softly, her deep green eyes brimming with mystery. "A man only gets going the first night, and then is too spent to be of much use on the third. So the superstition holds, anyway. Let us pray that this is so, Master Drinnen." She also rose up to kiss him lightly on the cheek and gently slid thin, pale fingers through his salt and pepper hair. "We will meet again on the morrow."

Then, suddenly, she was gliding gracefully away to join the steady stream of departing villagers. Alone, he turned to where the queen had sat high above upon her wooden throne, but she had vanished. Instead, an armored guard with curly auburn hair was striding towards him.

"Come with me, sir," the guard said. "I will take you to a warm meal and a hot bath. There, you will prepare for your task."