The Gift of Magic Pt. 01

This is a stand-alone fantasy tale, which also concludes my dark elf series. It is suitable for children, young adults and the young at heart.

It is totally non erotic and contains little violence. Strictly speaking it does not really belong here, among the more sexually explicit Jade trilogy, which appears elsewhere on Literotica. I have included it for completeness.

*****

Chapter 1: The old house

It was the last period of the school day, and most of the children were working quietly and drowsily on their homework, the deep buzzing of the bumble bees outside contributing to the soporific effect. The two girls, peering at the picture book with their heads together, looked up with a start when they heard the teacher's voice, telling them to stop talking so loudly. Merrin blushed pink, conscious of the other children looking at them. Lucy appeared less concerned.

"Sorry, Mr Neilson" she said, giving him a wide smile. "We were discussing the answer to the homework problem. Merrin was helping me."

The young teacher loosened his tie and cleared his throat. "It was a bit loud for discussing homework. Bring your problem up here if you need some help." Peter Neilson made his voice as gruff as he could manage, but Lucy could tell that he was having difficulty maintaining the right level of strictness. Some of the other children were starting to mutter.

"No thank you, Mr Neilson," said Lucy. "Merrin has explained it to me now. I wouldn't like to bother you." Lucy looked down at her desk, a gesture of submission.

"Very good," replied the teacher. "Perhaps you could work in silence now until the bell."

"Yes Mr Neilson," said Lucy.

#

"Mr Neilson's cute," said Lucy as she and Merrin walked home from school a few minutes later.

"Do you fancy him?" asked Merrin.

"I like him. He never shouts at us and he seems to actually enjoy teaching. Not like some of the others. Some of them don't like children."

"How do you know? Anyway, why do they teach if they don't like it?"

"I don't know why. Grown-ups are strange like that. They do lots of things they don't like even when nobody is forcing them to. Most of them in the house of worship are like that. They fidget all through the sermon, just like us kids. But nobody's making them come. Weird, I call it. Anyway, what do you mean about fancying Mr. Neilson?"

"I don't know really," said Merrin. I heard my sister talking about boys to her friends. It's something girls feel for boys when we get older."

"So that's the sort of thing you learn from older sisters. Sometimes I wish I had some brothers or sisters." Lucy kicked a pine cone down the street. They were leaving the pine woods and entering the open meadow that ran between the school and their homes.

"Yes, I suppose you must feel lonely sometimes," said Merrin.

"No... it's not loneliness. Not really. If I go to the park or the library there's always a group to play with or to talk to. Some grown-ups taught me chess, so now I sometimes go and play the old people. They seem happy to see me. Sometimes I beat them as well because I know what they're going to do next, but most of the time they're better than me. Then I play conkers or football in the park, and on rainy days there's always the recreational centre. And you and me are friends and we do things together. I don't get lonely at all. I just thought it would be good to have older brothers and sisters to tell me, you know, older brother and sister stuff."

"Yes, everyone seems to like you, Lucy," said Merrin. "Even geeky Nils offered to show you his latest gadget, and he's usually too shy to talk to anyone, especially a girl. I wish I was popular like you. What's your secret?"

"I don't know. I didn't know there was a secret. I thought it was just a matter of being friendly. Maybe it's a gift, like your gift for music. Anyway, not everyone likes me. Mr Nees doesn't like me."

"Who's Mr. Nees?"

"Mum's creepy boyfriend. He keeps sliming around her, buying her flowers and chocolate and mooning and moping." Lucy mimed being sick. The two girls giggled.

"Sounds as if it's you who doesn't like him," said Merrin.

"Only 'cos he didn't like me first. And he doesn't like my dad. He thinks dad shouldn't have got himself killed."

"I didn't think he even knew your dad."

"He knows dad was a war hero. Mum told us both about him one evening. She said that dad was holed up behind enemy lines and their communications were cut off. Our side had some heavy big guns but they couldn't get them over the pass because an enemy battalion was guarding it and sniping anyone coming through.

I don't understand the details but war seems a bit like chess. It's kind of like when your castle is boxed in the corner behind your own bishop and you can't get your bishop out because it's protecting your castle, so both pieces are trapped. Anyway it was really complex and the battalion commander asked for a group of volunteers to distract the enemy. A bit like harassing the enemy queen so it releases the attack on your bishop, I suppose.

"Dad was brave and he joined up with the group of volunteers, and because he was a captain he got to lead them. The way mum explained it, they crawled through this thick forest then the volunteers got surprised by a machine gun emplacement. That's like a regular gun but it fires much faster. Dad then said they needed a distraction within the distraction. Dad told his mates he would do the dangerous work and draw the fire of the machine gun while the rest sneaked up behind the emplacement, and overpowered the gunner. They could then go on to the main distraction and fool the rest of the enemy once the gunner was out of the way.

"So dad started moving around the forest, making a lot of noise and then flinging himself down in the undergrowth when he thought they were about to open fire. The gunners thought there was a whole unit stalking them, not one man, so they concentrated all their fire on him, and the rest of his men were able to sneak around and take out the machine gun.

"Dad did really well ducking and diving, but just as the rest of the unit were about to overpower the machine gun, his luck ran out. A few fluke shots got him in the leg, so he couldn't drag himself under cover fast enough. The gunners then shot him dead. Mum said that it was because the gunners were so absorbed in shooting dad that they didn't notice the others sneaking behind them. Anyway, the rest of the volunteers managed to get rid of the machine gun, and then distract the enemy sufficiently for our big guns to get through the pass and eventually shell their positions.

"Dad became a hero, and mum got a war pension for life from the government once we won the war. Dad also had some money elsewhere, something to do with those things priests have."

"Sweets?" guessed Merrin.

"No not sweets, starts with v..." Lucy looked at her friend with puzzlement. "What do priests carry sweets for? I've never seen them eat sweets during worship"

"I don't know. My older brother told me they offer them to children, but we should never take sweets from strangers or priests 'cos they use them to do nasty things to us."

"What sort of nasty things?" asked Lucy, her original thread forgotten. "Mum tells me not to talk to strangers, but she's pretty vague about details and she never mentioned sweets. What do they use them for?"

"I don't know," Merrin shrugged. "It's just something my older brother told me."

"Vestments! That's it." cried Lucy. "My father bought a lot of vestments, and for some reason that means he had heaps of money. Anyway, what were we talking about?"

"Your mother and Mr Nees."

"Oh yes, well that explains why Mr Nees is mooning after my mother. He wants dad's war pension and vestment money."

"It's sad about your father. Do you miss him?"

Lucy paused in thought before answering. "Well it was eight years ago. I was only one year old when he died. If I had a choice I would like him to be alive rather than dead. I'm sure mum would prefer that too. But when you think of it, most of the children have fathers, it's rather common place. But nobody else has a dead war hero - it's far more exciting than a live father. So not really."

"But it must feel so lonely with just you and your mum." The children had now reached the lane that turned off to Merrin's home. "Tell you what," continued Merrin. "There's a good movie on TV today. How about we watch it together? You can call your mum." Merrin handed over her phone to Lucy.

"That's nice of you to ask me, but I don't like TV that much." said Lucy. "Anyway I need to get home to make sure creepy Mr Nees isn't after my mother again. I'll see you at school tomorrow."

#

"I'm home, mum." Lucy walked through the door of the small log home that she lived in with her mother. Her mother Sophie looked up from where she was seated at the dining table, tossing back her blonde hair. Lucy noticed she had somebody with her, and the two of them had been examining some papers. A few of Sophie's better paintings had been moved from the studio and were leaning against the wall. It seems she had been showing them to her visitor.

"Hello again, Mr Neilson," Lucy greeted her teacher.

"Hello, Lucy." Peter Neilson stood up. "Your mother and I have just been discussing the school jumble sale next week. I'll leave you two together."

"Please don't leave on my account, Mr Neilson," said Lucy.

"That's very nice of you to say that, Lucy, but it's time I was going anyway." With those words the teacher took the papers from the table and walked out of the room.

"Mr Neilson's nice," Lucy stared straight at her mother.

"He's a good friend, yes," said Sophie as she prepared to serve the dinner, a stew simmering on the stove, with crispy bread and a fresh salad.

"Do you fancy him?" asked Lucy.

Sophie laughed. "Where did you learn that expression from?"

"From Merrin. She told me it's what women say about men when they want them to be their boyfriend."

"Trust Merrin. No I don't fancy Pete... Mr Neilson. We're just friends."

"But you fancy Mr Nees, don't you," said Lucy between spoonfuls of stew.

"Mr Nees has been very kind to me. I know he wants to marry me. I'm just not sure I'm ready."

"I don't like Mr Nees," said Lucy. "I think he's a miner after your vestments."

"You mean a gold digger, after my investments," Sophie corrected her. "I think you wrong him. Our investments are not worth that much. Enough so I don't have to work and can concentrate on my art, and so I can support you through university once you leave school, but hardly the sort of sum to attract gold diggers. Besides, Mr Nees has quite a lot of his own money. He owns the farm he inherited from his parents"

"I think Mr Neilson's much better. He can sometimes be strict, but he's honest and unlike a lot of teachers he likes children. Why don't you marry him?"

Sophie laughed. "Mr Neilson is very kind, but he hasn't asked me to marry him."

"Have you asked him? I know he wants to."

"How do you know that?" asked Sophie.

"I can just see his mind. He's too shy to ask. Unlike creepy Mr. Nees who's never afraid to take what he wants."

"I've heard enough of your unpleasant comments about Mr Nees. If I hear any more, I will have to ask you to go to your room." Sophie placed the supper dishes by the sink and started running the water. Lucy grabbed a tea towel and dried each dish as her mother washed it.

"I just think Mr Nees is the sort to carry sweets with him." Lucy braced herself for a shouting match with her mother, and prepared to go to her room. She was disappointed when her mother just laughed.

"Well why shouldn't he carry sweets? You can be quite odd sometimes, Lucy. What did you mean by that?"

"Nothing, just something Merrin said."

"Can I go out for a couple of hours to play," said Lucy, after they had finished the washing up. Lucy wanted to explore the old house in the wood. For as long as she could remember the house had been occupied, but recently the tenants had moved out, and there was a rumour round the village that the owner of the house, a member of an old family that had not lived there for several generations, was coming back. The grounds of the house were patrolled day and night by a security company, but Lucy had made friends with the security guard who took the evening shift, and the guard sometimes allowed her to enter the house, as long as he came with her.

The white haired security guard greeted Lucy as she walked through the wrought iron gates of the property.

"Good evening, Miss Lucy," he greeted her. "This may be the last time you will be able to play in this place. The owner had all her furniture brought in today. Looks like she will be moving in very shortly."

"There's furniture?" Lucy jumped up and down in her excitement. "Oh neat! Let me see?"

"Klaus the security guard scratched his chin. "Not sure I should be letting you do that. See you might damage it. And I would get in trouble with my boss. You can play in the grounds, but I can't let you inside."

"Oh please, Klaus." Lucy fixed her gaze on the older man until he relented.

"All right. I suppose if I come with you then it will be okay." Klaus opened the oak doors with the heavy old fashioned key, and Lucy and the guard slipped inside.

"Wow!" Lucy spun round, awestruck at the rich tapestries, thick rugs and soft furnishings; the ornate dark wood dining table with the matching chairs, and the old style sideboards and writing desk. She examined a painting on the wall in an alcove. It showed a dark skinned young woman with blonde hair, quite beautiful, but with a haunted look in her eyes as though she had seen too much suffering. Behind her was a shadowy figure of a huge spider, its details only sketched in lightly but well enough for Lucy to sense that this was a symbol of evil, and that the woman was in some way its nemesis. Lucy felt her throat tighten. She shuddered and turned away.

Immediately her mood lightened and she rushed into the master bedroom. "Oh, awesome," she cried, on seeing the elaborate king sized four poster bed, with its thick red velvet curtains. Before Klaus could stop her she had dived through the slight gap in the curtains and bounded on the mattress, which to her disappointment was surprisingly firm for such a luxurious looking bed.

"Come out of there!" Klaus called to her sharply. Lucy climbed out of the bed. "Sorry Klaus," she muttered. "I just couldn't resist. It seemed so soft, but the mattress is really hard."

Klaus laughed. "The furniture is hundreds of years old. People were not as pampered then, and they liked hard beds. If you've seen everything then I'll need to escort you off the premises. It will be dark soon, and as you know the electricity is cut off." Lucy thought that she would like to have stayed longer. She knew that Klaus carried a powerful torch and normally she could have persuaded him to stay with her for a while and explore with her. But after looking at Klaus's face, irritated at her boisterous antics with the bed, she knew that this time he would not be so helpful.

So Lucy allowed Klaus to escort her outside the house, and then she dawdled home, wondering who the new owner of the interesting house and even more interesting furniture might be, and whether she could somehow arrange an introduction. Lucy knew that very few people she met ever disliked her, so she was confident that she and the owner would become friends.

Chapter 2: The derfen

The youngish man was dressed in smart casual tweed clothes, giving the impression of a gentleman farmer, which is what he wanted people to think he was. As he walked into the dark tavern the buxom blonde barmaid smiled at him. Hans Nees looked away. Hilda was attractive and warm hearted and sometimes Hans enjoyed talking to her, but not when he wanted to make an impression on his mates. Hilda had not long ago arrived in the village and her abrasive working class accent grated on him. Not that he minded it too much when they were on their own. He accepted it then as the price of her company. But he didn't want his mates to see him with someone who sounded like a scrubber from the housing estate.

Hans had just come into the village from evening milking but from the raucous yells of his mates he knew they had been getting a good head start on him as far as drinking was concerned.

Hans was not a heavy drinker. If he had his way he would not drink at all. He liked to keep a clear head, and when he had a few drinks inside him he felt out of control. He remembered the first time he had tried a drink, just after his father had died. Hans had heard that drinking can help people cope with the terrible feelings of grief. Instead it not only made his grief more intense, but had caused Hans to panic once the vague buzz started to hit his brain. Hans had spilled the beer as he rushed to the toilet to be violently sick.

Hans did not like his drinking mates much, either. He wondered whether they would like each other if they had to tolerate each other's company when sober. But they had their uses. George the banker in particular had been very accommodating to him over the mortgage on his farm. Hans liked to pretend he was a wealthy landowner, but the truth was that a series of bad investment decisions by his parents and grandparents had reduced the once comfortable family fortunes. By the time young Hans had inherited the farm after his father had met with an unfortunate accident while out riding in the woods, his share in the ownership would maybe have bought a few of the bricks. George's bank owned the rest. So keeping on the good side of George was essential, at least until he could marry Sophie.

Fred the stockbroker was another useful fair weather friend. Fred had given him a few share tips that he had once followed up on, thus preventing immediate insolvency. Probably not totally legal, but then as Hans said to himself, the politicians and lawyers who made the rules for the rest of us did not have to deal with losing their ancestral homes to mortgagee sales. His two other supposed mates were an estate agent and a dentist. The latter had been an asset when he had an abscess in his tooth a year or so ago, and the estate agent may be of some use in the future if he ever did have to sell his farm.

The four men gave a roar as when they saw Hans.

"Hans, knees and upsadaisy!" yelled Fred. "What you drinking, Hans mate?"

Hans laughed with the others, not letting them know that he found these puns on his name pathetic and puerile even the first hundred times he had heard them, and pulled up a seat to join his supposed friends.

"So how's your love life, Hans baby," said Gerry the dentist, belching in Hans's face, and handing him his pint of beer.

"Bit glum, boys" said Hans, taking a tentative sip at his drink. There was a convenient pot plant not far from Hans's place at the table, and when his mates' attention was distracted Hans tipped some of his beer into it. Hans idly wondered whether there was a special horticultural centre somewhere breeding alcohol tolerant plants for use in pubs. That particular palm must have soaked up enough alcoholic beverages to fill a swimming pool in all the years it had been there, and appeared to be thriving on it.

"So what's your problem?" said Fred. "I thought you were ready to pop the question. You're a jammy rat, Hans. Lots of men have been after the lovely Sophie and got the brush-off. I wish I could pull birds like you."

"It's a knack I suppose. I have it, you don't. Just like your knack of making money. I wouldn't mind swapping gifts."

"Yeah, that's not possible. Just be glad of what you've got".

Hans hated it when the jolly stockbroker gave out homely advice. He would rather have share tips.