The Solitary Arrow Ch. 01

"You are mended, Harlen of Morrovale." She moved her hands off him, and stood up in one graceful motion that caused the hunter to stare. He rose from the stone and looked at his leg. The wound was gone, and in its place was pink, soft skin.

He gaped at her, almost comically. "You heal by magic, milady?" He asked.

"Yes, it is our way." Hyandai said. She picked up her bow from the ground. "We have always done so, but it leaves us without the knowledge of doing it differently, as you obviously possess."

"But, why would you need it?" He asked. "If you can heal, why did you not heal yourself?" He looked a bit confused.

She tilted her head slightly, but smiled generously, and her eyes glittered in the dwindling light. "You noted how I mended you, by blowing my life's breath onto the wound?" She asked him.

"Of course I noticed." He said, somewhat embarrassed.

She shrugged. "And just how limber do you think us elves?" She said, then giggled when his face took on the unmistakable air of realization.

He grinned himself. "I suppose not quite that limber." His face was blushing again.

"Not quite. Also, magic is notoriously fickle when one tries to perform it on oneself." She said. "I could have easily worsened my wound." She explained. "Your way was the best, especially with no other elves about."

He looked around. "Speaking of that, Hyandai, how is it you are alone in the wood?" He asked.

"You are a curious man, Harlen. And questions are good to a point, and that one is certainly worthy." She looked at him. "I am alone because I and my betrothed were waylaid by those orcs." Her face suddenly looked stricken. "I am afraid he may be dead." She said. "He bade me run while he tried to stall them." Tears fell from her eyes. "In my cowardice, I did." Her voice was quaking with both hurt and rage.

Harlen looked at the two bodies lying on the ground. "Were there many?" He asked, rolling one over with his heavy boot and regarding its unappealing visage.

Hyandai nodded in the waning light, and her eyes were still aglitter, but with grief now. "There were a dozen, perhaps more." She said quietly.

He turned to her. "Then do not mar bravery on his part by labeling it cowardice on your part." The hunter said. "Had you stayed, you would have died too. Or worse, be made captive." He looked at her eyes, matching his ice blue against her rich golden. "If he was your betrothed, then he did so willingly, as most any man would have." He broke eye contact. "I know I would." Harlen said quietly.

She looked at him intently. "Would you?" She said. "You'd lay down your life defending me, a person whom you have just met?"

"I would do so even for what I thought you were initially, a young girl of my kind, and would for what you are, a lovely woman." He said, trying to pretend he did not sound trite.

She touched his muscled arm. "I believe you." She said. "And further, I believe that you would lay down your life for most anyone whom you thought needed your help. Harlen, you are a decent and valorous man. I sense it." Her smile in the darkened wood was a flash of white.

"Right now, I am a man who can barely see his hand before his face." Harlen said. He rummaged in his back and brought out a small leather pouch. He opened the pouch and light shot up into the sky. He pulled out a glass or crystal orb that radiated light, brighter than a torch.

"Acalyondo!" Hyandai exclaimed smiling and blinking at the sudden brightness until Harlen wrapped his fingers about it, cutting off a portion of its intense glare.

The hunter looked at her. "Cally-ando?" He asked.

She giggled at herself, then said "A stone of light." She pointed to the crystalline orb. "We used to trade those to the humans of these lands." She tilted her head slightly. "That one still shines brightly after all these years." She said, her eyes reflecting the glowing orb.

Harlen looked at it. "It was my grandmother's." He said, then looked at Hyandai. "She is fascinated by your folk, and spent much time listening to tales from our minstrels and storytellers about the elves." He shrugged. "The stone seemed to never fade in its light, and now it serves me well."

She wondered at that as she watched him walk toward the tree. "Harlen. I am alone now. May I beg your company, for the night, at least?" Hyandai asked.

The hunter stopped and turned, a look of dismay on his face. "Must you ask?" He said. "I would have thought it obvious that your company was more than welcome." He shook his head. "Perhaps I assumed too much with you, thinking myself an open book to your alert eyes."

She smiled widely. "Then I am glad. For the night is not of itself frightening, but these unknown wilds are." Hyandai said as she walked up to him. "I regret that I have none of the needed supplies for camping, having lost my pack during my flight from the orcs."

"We will manage." Harlen said, and took her hand. It was warm and soft in his grip. Her fingers curled around his own hand as she accepted the touch and followed his light into the woods. "I want to get away from those two, in case their friends come looking for them." The hunter said, his stalker's mind taking over. "We will travel a half hour then make our camp."

He palmed thecalyondo and proceeded into the wood. His grip was strong, and seemed nearly unbreakable to her, though he held her only lightly. She watched his movements through the underbrush. He was cautious and they moved somewhat slowly. She was impressed when a branch barred their progress; he elbowed it back and held it for her to pass. This limb was thicker than her arm around, and would have been far beyond her ability to push out of the way even straining with both arms.

Hyandai knew this man was no hardened warrior, but she felt safer in his presence. His broad back and strong arms made her to think of the tree men of the glades in her homelands. They were powerful, but very slow. Harlen had proven he could and would move quickly at need, unlike those tree men, whom never rushed at anything, even saving their own lives.

At last, they came to a small clearing, where a small fire pit had been dug. He nodded. "This was my camp last night, I thought I could find it again." His released her hand and uncovered the glowing sphere fully, letting its light fill the tiny clearing. Harlen reached behind one of the larger trees around the edge of the clearing, and retrieved several pieces of wood.

With the setting of the sun, the air had grown a bit chill. Elves, in general, did not grow cold easily, but they were comforted by a fire as much as any man. She watched as he placed the wood and used a piece of flint from his pack to start some punk burning, and with that lit the fire. After a few minutes, he had the small fire going nicely, crackling and its light throwing dancing shadows on the trees surrounding the clearing. He carefully put his glowing sphere back in its leather pouch and pulled the mouth shut.

The stone's pouch went into the pack, and a folded cloth came out in the same motion. Harlen walked up to Hyandai and unfurled the cloth beside her. It was a thin blanket. He again took in her cinnamon scent as he stood near her, letting the blanket settle onto the soft grass that carpeted the clearing. "It is not much, Hyandai, but it is your bower for the night." He said. Then stood and walked around the fire and sat on the far side.

Her golden eyes followed his movements, and she watched him sit. "And you will sleep where?" She asked, her eyes flicking to the blanket, then back to him.

"It will not be my first time to sleep under the stars with naught above me but my shirt." He said, smiling. "I will lie here." He said, patting the ground beside him.

She sat on the blanket; it was quite large, if thin. "No, huntsman, you will lie on your blanket, by my side. We are garbed. There is no worry." When she saw him prepare to protest, she added. "Please, the night is cooling, and I would share your warmth."

He relented in his eyes. "Very well, milady." He said, standing. "But I snore." He warned her. Smiling as he stood and walked back to the blanket. He sat down near her, and laid back, facing the sky. She laid down as well, and cast the other half of the cloth over them. It sufficed, barely, to cover the two of them. The paucity of cover behooved them to lie quite closely, not that either seemed to mind.

He could smell her scent strongly now, and he said. "You smell of cinnamon, Hyandai, it is very appealing." Then sniffed the air appreciatively.

Hyandai giggled at his words. "Well, Harlen, you smell of a day's hard work." She said, and gave a small sniff of her own.

"I apologize, but I was unaware I would have company this night in my blanket, or I would have bathed today." Harlen replied, a tinge of worry edging into his voice.

Again, Hyandai laughed. "Do not apologize. The smell of work is hard won, and I did not say that I found it less than pleasant." She smiled in the darkness, watching the shadows from the fire play among the leaves over them. "In fact, it brings me fond memories of another man, one whom I loved."

Harlen did not know what to say to that, so he left it be.

Suddenly she said. "Did you know your name has an elven meaning?" Hyandai turned onto her side to look at him. "It means 'The Wide South' in our tongue. That is the name of the lands south of our country, you would call it Ghant."

The hunter looked at her pretty face in the near dark and smiled. "Really? You call Ghant Harlen? What does your name mean, Hyandai?" He asked.

She looked a bit nervous, or at least hesitant, then said. "My name means 'a small blade.'" Then she laughed nervously.

Harlen laughed too, "Small blade?" He asked. "It's a bit, well, small sounding."

She nodded and her arms came from beneath the blanket. She reached over her head, where she had laid her weapons. She brought down her scabbard, and drew forth the weapon within. It was indeed a small blade, only a finger's width wide and a bit longer than his forearm. She handed the pommel to him and he took it. It was airy light. He touched the blade and it was terribly sharp, however, keener than the barber's razor in Morrovale. "This is ahyandai?" he asked.

She nodded as he returned the pommel to her. "Yes. It was my mother's weapon, and, as she passed when I was young, the name stuck since I refused to take it off even as a young child." She resheathed the sword and put it back over her head.

Harlen looked at her. "We have a similar weapon, called a rapier." He said. "Though they tend to not be quite so sharp." He turned onto his side, also facing her. "You are skilled with the bow. I saw that much. Are you a warrior?"

She laughed heartily at that. A glorious sound that filled the clearing, and made him laugh. "I am not a warrior, Harlen. I am but a maiden who was forced to travel." She looked up at the weapons above their heads, their bows, her sword, and his axe. "All my folk are expected to be proficient in the rudiments of weapon use." She said. "Our numbers are too few to rely solely upon dedicated soldiery, as humans are wont."

He hummed as if considering this. And watched her beautiful eyes. He liked looking at them, though they disquieted him somewhat. They seemed to gather the flickering light from the fire and concentrate the energy into themselves. Thus, they seemed brighter than the surrounding area. She noticed his stare and said. "My eyes seem to be being watched."

Harlen blinked. "I'm sorry," he said, "but I've never seen eyes of that color before. They look like gold to me, burnished and ancient and priceless."

She smiled at that. "Your own are unusual to me. Among elves blue eyes are exceptional." She glanced away. "They make me think of the summer sky, warm and endless."

Harlen blushed at those kind words. "Well, milady." He stammered. "We have to look after your betrothed on the morn, so best we sleep." He said, and closed his eyes.

She took her hand from his shoulder, not even realizing she had left it there, and laid upon her back, regarding the flickering shadows more.

After some minutes, they both drifted off to sleep.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next morning found Hyandai awake before Harlen. She slowly became aware that she was being held, then her golden eyes snapped opened and she inhaled sharply. She felt his arm over her and the other arm under her, pillowing her head. The one above was across her chest and came down from there to pull her close to his body.

It was not at all an unpleasant feeling, the strength in those arms lent to a general sense of security to this wild place. She could also feel his breathing against her neck and ear, again, the warmth of his breath was quite pleasurable, she found.

Despite his warning, his snoring was minor and simply served as a relaxing and steady sound to lull her to sleep last night. She liked the feeling of being held and protected as she slept, and she liked the warm feeling it gave her in her belly. Then she realized she also felt something else.

His manhood was pressed against her backside, and it was quite obviously roused. She could even, through the fine material of her loincloth and his rough twill pants, feel its swollen head. The men of the Faith in the Western Realms were circumcised, she had heard, but had never seen such. Elves were not wont to circumcise their youths.

She was not terribly alarmed by all this, though. Often young ladies among her friends had commented that elven youths had such arousals in their sleep, caused by dreams. No doubt the dreams were quite exciting, she guessed. After a moment, she had to admit that knowing what was pressing against her did not bother her at all. In fact she was uncomfortably aware of her own body's reaction at the contact, so much so that she feared he might notice when he awoke if they were still so closely touching.

Hyandai was unsure how to move, though, without causing that event. If she moved, he would probably wake up. She lifted her head and looked down. His body was folded behind hers, in the same position forming two roughly zigzag lines. She wiggled her hips a bit, to see if she could push her pelvis forward a few inches. She succeeded, but then he moved to match her and now his organ was no longer pressed against her backside. It was standing out from his body. His manhood was still within his breeches, yes, but now pressing directly toward her now quite stimulated opening.

Her eyes grew wide with alarm, not at the event, but at her rather surprising excitement from it. She was growing quite inflamed now, despite her own desire to not do so, and she could feel the loincloth growing slightly damp with her moisture.

He suddenly twitched, causing his organ to push at her opening, actually parting the lips of her opening within her loincloth. A shudder of pleasure ran through her, and she found herself pushing back toward him now. Then he laid still again, his erect penis poised just outside of her slit. Only the layers of thin cloth prevented him from entering her. Then she felt his pole softening, the head sliding over her rump as it grew limp, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Then she noticed she was breathing in short gasps. She had been very excited or scared. Given the situation, she had to guess excited. A part of her, a part she kept well subdued by her will, cursed the cloth. As his organ fully went flaccid, that part screamed for her to awaken the man and take him, and take him now. She forced that part of herself back, and smothered it with her will.

She relaxed and simply laid there enjoying the feeling of being held and warmed by him. He seemed to hum, though no sound came from his lips, except his slow breathing. She would not have minded staying in such comfort all day, were it allowed.

Once his erection had fully subsided, she pushed back as she had been before, holding her pelvis forward as she had been was a bit of an effort. She let her head rest fully on the muscular, but relaxed arms, and started to doze off again herself. Then he awoke. His eyes opened wide and he inhaled mightily.

Harlen came to consciousness rapidly when he felt Hyandai shift in his arms. Then he realized she was in his arms! He snapped to wakefulness and gasped. He lifted his upper arm off of her and rolled to his back. She lifted her head and looked back at him, a look of slight peevishness on her face.

Harlen immediately assumed her peeved look was based upon upset with him. "Milady, I did not!" He exclaimed slowly removing his arm from beneath her now raised head. "I did not mean to take privileges of you in your sleep." He looked horrified, but not at her, she guessed, but at being thought forward. "I. Uh. I wasn't aware I had moved into a position of such familiarity with you. I am sorry."

She rolled over toward him. "Your 'familiarity' kept the chill from the last night." She said, smiling at him. "I thank you for it." She then leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Without your warm body I would surely have taken cold." She rather enjoyed this game of comforting him when he thought he had offended. Humans were, obviously, very strict with their rules of courtship and friendliness. Elves were, as well, but the rules were subtly different, and those differences showed themselves glaringly on occasion.

Harlen touched his cheek where she had planted the small kiss. "I did?" He asked, then said. "I am happy to have been of service, then." His mouth twisted up into a crooked smile.

She stood up and stretched languidly. "You certainly did, Harlen of Morrovale." She said, when she had finished the catlike stretch. She looked down. "I have rarely slept more comfortably nor felt more secure in all my days."

The hunter sat up, and propped his arms on his knees. "In all your days? And what might those be? I hear elves are immortal."

She looked at him with wide eyes and then giggled at him. "Immortal?" She said, "By the spirits, no, we are as mortal as humans." Her hand touched the spot on her leg. "Did not that look like the meat of the living that you sewed with such skill?"

Harlen nodded.

"Nay, sir, we live long, yes, but we are far from immortal." She looked down at him again. "I am fifty-nine summers of age." She finally said. "And I am considered to recently be marriageable by my folk." Her golden eyes dropped, sadly. "That led to my betrothal to Eleean." She shook her head, then smiled at Harlen. "What is your count, then?" She said, her eyes sparkling.

He shrugged. "I probably seem a whelp, then, to your eyes. I am but twenty-four years." He said, standing up, and picking up the blanket.

Hyandai thought for a moment, then nodded to herself. "Then we are actually quite closely matched, in the reckoning of each of our folk." She explained. "Were I human, I would be aged twenty years, perhaps nine and ten." She reached down and fetched up her weapons.

This time, Harlen did the thinking, then spoke. "Then you live for almost two hundred years?" He asked, his voice full of awe.

"Yes." Hyandai replied. "Some live longer, many shorter, but two hundred would not be considered exceptional." She nodded. "We are long-lived, as I said, but far from immortal."

Her eyes were bright with the realization that this man was indeed a smart one; he had done the mental math to calculate the elven span without fingers, toes, or paper. She added this to her tally sheet of his measure, and he was adding up quite handsomely. She giggled at the image this fostered in her mind, and then set about pushing dirt over the smoldering ashes of the fire.

Her clothes somewhat smelled of his odor, and she lifted her short tunic's hem to her nose and sniffed with relish while Harlen was occupied with gathering his own weapons. Her mind was pleased at the thought of his scent on her all day for her to enjoy.