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From: hick@main.jetnet.ab.ca (KNW)
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Subject: {ASSM} One Last Night at the Wayfarer's Inn - By KNW
Date: Wed,  5 Jul 2000 00:10:14 -0400
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I'm reposting this because I got an error message last time I tried.  If it
appears twice, I apologize.

   The following story takes place in a fantasy world, and contains adult
content.  All characters are quite obviously fictional.

   One Last Night at the Wayfarer's Inn, by KNW

   Sundown found the Wayfarer's Inn as boisterous as ever.  Ale and Mead
flowed like wine.  Succulent food was enjoyed at every table.  The dining
hall was filled with two dozen lively people singing, dancing, and loving
every moment of it.  The midsummer night carried the sound far and wide on
wistful breezes.

   Except for one.

   Anula sat at her party's table, quietly nursing a glass of wine.  She
was a comely lass who had only just reached adulthood.  Small, yes, but as
a half-elven maiden, she far outshone the other women in the tavern.  Her
long silver hair fell upon slender shoulders, framing her high cheekbones,
steel grey eyes, and small, red lips.  Her lithe body was covered by a
simple, tight dress of soft silk which reached from her collarbones to
mid-thigh.  Her legs were covered only by web-like filaments of stockings,
and sandals that looked like quicksilver clung to her tiny feet.

   She looked up from her pale red strawberry wine at Tharc, the party's
leader.  A burly man old enough to be her father, yet almost untouched by
age with the exception of a few grey hairs.  She had joined his company
when they needed the services of a medic and priest, at an age when she
felt adventure was calling.  That had been a mere two winters ago, and she
had come to know the Tharc's compatriots well.

   Kalondriel, a shady character, was the party's thief.  He could scale
sheer walls, pick locks with almost anything, and could rather unnervingly
disappear into the shadows when not closely watched.  A handsome young man,
but distant.  Too distant for Anula's liking.  His eyes would dart away
when she glanced at him, and she felt his heart was made of slime.

   Garnox, the dwarf, was only just shorter than she was, his heart swelled
with mirth in the company of friends, and the bloodlust of battle came upon
him too quickly.  His axe had fallen many an enemy, and Anula's talents for
healing seemed to be used on him most often.  A great black beard sprouted
from his chin, and he was constantly trying to keep it clean.

   Lastly, but not leastly, was Sonulus, a mage.  Quick witted and kindly,
Sonulus was a few winters younger than Tharc, but age had not treated him
as well.  The grey hair on his temples seemed to overtake his immaculate
brown hair more and more each season.  While not homley, Sonulus was no
match for Tharc in such comparisons.

   Thus the evening found her wondering why Tharc had not returned her
feelings for him.  Perhaps she was being too subtle.  Tharc was a
charismatic, outgoing soul, but had no care for books or reading.  Perhaps
he was unable to decipher her signals.  She wondered whether or not she
could gain his love, and thought back to the time, in Deepwood, a scant
month from her joining the party, when she almost had him...

   "Tharc?  Tharc, can you hear me?", she whispered in his ear.  Tharc had
taken an arrow and fallen early in the fight.

   "An..  Anula...", he muttered, his wounds slowly closing from her
magiks. "What has happened?"

   "Quiet, my..  my friend, " She continued, glancing about.  "The orcs
have not left us alone just yet.  Garnox has slain many of them, and
Sonulus keeps more at bay.  You must rest and let your injuries heal, lest
you undo my efforts."

   Tharc took a deep breath and winced.  He never stopped trying to impress
people, even when near death.  "How bad is the wound, young one?  How long
will it take to heal?"

   Anula placed her hand on his chest.  She had undone his breastplate to
get to the wound.  His barrel chest rose and fell, the network of scars
riding on rippling muscles.  She felt a strange sensation in her loins, and
was drawn to him.

   However, Tharc refused to be kept from battle, and drew himself up.  As
he sat, she kept her hand on the wound and her eyes on his rugged face.  He
gently took her slender hand in his gauntleted fingers, and gazed into her
eyes.  "Again, I owe you my life, young Anula.  I..." he trailed off.  He
always seemed to trail off and stall himself before he could reveal any of
his true feelings.  Tharc swallowed, and glanced about for a moment, until
he could locate his missing armour.

   After securing the plate in place, he lightly kissed her hand, as he
always did, and rushed back into the thick of combat.  She knelt there,
speechless, wondering why he never allowed himself to tell how he felt...

   Anula was returned to the present by a sudden deluge of liquid.  She
stiffened and saw Tharc's muscular body moving with the same quick agility
he showed in combat.  She remained motionless while glancing about, trying
to figure out what happened.  The entire tavern was silent with the
exception of Kalondriel and Sonulus, who were laughing hard.  Garnox was
behind her, and she could make out his words:

   "No, Tharc!" he called, "By Yurk's Beard, do not do this!" She spun
about.

   There, Tharc towered above her, with a frail-looking drunkard held high
above him.  His face was flushed with anger, and his thick arm was drawn
back, ready to pour his fury into one solid strike.  Garnox had grabbed
Tharc's wrist, and was trying against all odds to stay the blow.

   "This lout has assaulted young Anula," he growled through clenched
teeth, "and now refuses to apologize.  Release my arm, Garnox, so I may
teach this sodden fool of his folly!"

   She had seen him this wrathful only once before...

   Far to the south, in the Barrow Fens, an Orcish captain had taken hold
of her tunic and tore its front off, exposing her to every combatant there.
Tharc had cleaved off both his arms in his fury, and heaved him headfirst
into a great stone.  For many long minutes he pummelled the defenceless
orc, until finally his senses had regained their grasp.

   She remembered him trying to look away as she stood, stunned at Tharc's
brutal retaliation, before she could realize her small breasts were
uncovered.  Kalondriel had made some remark, whereupon both Sonulus and
Garnox had to restrain the powerful warrior, lest he turn his fury upon the
thief...

   With the grace of her elven mother, she rose, and placed one hand upon
Tharc's great chest.  In a quiet voice, she said to him, "Please, Tharc,
let him go...'

   Tharc's expression softened as he heard the words, and he slowly let his
victim down.  Garnox let go his arm, and breathed a sigh of relief, as
Sonulus and Kalondriel exchanged smirks.

   "I..  I am sorry, lass, " he said in a small voice, "I could not
restrain myself when he spilled his mead upon you..." and again, he trailed
off.  He hung his head, ashamed at losing his temper before her.

   "Apology accepted, sir, ' she said, looking up to her.  She wrapped her
small arms about his waist and continued, "I know you only seek to protect
me from the injustices of this world."

   Tharc mentally stumbled as she hugged him tight.  He allowed his arms to
fall about her, and loosely held her as well.

   Anula, who was a full two heads shorter than the great Tharc, whose head
rested just below his breastbone, noticed a stirring in his trousers. 
Something was growing long and thick and warm against her chest.

   Tharc lightly pushed her away, his face blushed as his eyes darted
about. Again, strange sensations assauled the young half-elf.  She wanted
to be closer to him, closer than ever before.

   Kalondriel said in hushed tones to Sonulus: "Amazed I am that the
mightly bull be calmed by one so frail.  I daresay dear Anula has finally
captured the heart of our good Tharc." Sonulus silently replied by nodding
and even the stoic Garnox tried to hide a smirk.

   Tharc glanced over to the thief, having heard the wisperings, and began
to wonder himself if perhaps she had found the chink in his emotional
armour.



   Once everyone had settled down, the inn's dining hall quickly returned
to normal.  A smiling serving wench handed Anula a towel, winked at her,
glanced at Tharc, raised her eyebrows, and quickly left her.

   Anula recalled the reason for their stop here.  In just a day's ride lay
the fabled Ontsbarrow, a great cavern network where the bones of kings had
been laid for centuries, and this had been ages ago, in the days of the
Mage-Kings.  They would be the latest to enter it's unholy tunnels and
warrens, attempting expunge what evil lay there.  Many had entered, but few
had escaped.  Anula feared she would meet her end there, dying before
letting Tharc know her true feelings.  She had never lay with a man before,
she had this one night to get him to express himself, and a plot was
forming itself behind her steel grey eyes.

   Hours passed, Kalondriel had disappeared along with the smiling serving
wench, Sonulus was snoring in his chair, his head lolling about.  Garnox
had retired early, his bad knee having forced him to rest.  Tharc had not
drunk as much as the two, and was deep in thought, planning their strategy
for the next day.

   Anula had drank much more wine than she normally did.  She had done this
on purpose.  The pale strawberry liquid had no effect on her, having
inherited her mother's ability to metabolize such weak drinks easily.  She
had worked on acting totally drunk in the meantime, and had allowed herself
to become dishevelled.  Outwardly, she appeared to be well into her cups,
but inside she was hatching her plan.

   She allowed her head to fall to the table, and became limp.  Tharc
snapped out of his thoughts, and looked about.  The dining room was quiet
now, only a few others remained, and most of them were hardly able to walk.
He rose, and gently shook her.

   "Anula?  Young one?"

   She remained limp.  She had seen others carried to their rooms when they
had finally managed to incapacitate themselves.  Tharc tried again to rouse
her, and she remained unresponsive.  Gently, he lifted her in his great
arms.  With one mighty arm he cradled her, while using his free hand to
brush Anula's hair from her face.

   "I see you too have given into the drink's slumber, 'he whispered. 
"Fear not, child, I shall see you safe to your room."

   Anula needed all her resolve to continue her charade.  He cradled her as
he ascended the stair, and she could feel his heart beating thru his thick
form.

   He entered her room, and lay her upon a large bed.  With care, he
removed her shoes and prepared to pull a warm, soft quilt over her.  She
began to move.

   "Where...  Where...," she whispered, still acting as if inebriated.

   "Sleep, little one,' Tharc replied, placing a light finger upon her
lips.

   "Tharc..  Oh, Tharc, I fear the morrow..," she said slowly, "please,
stay the night with me.  Leave me not alone"

   Tharc stumbled for words, and knelt at her bedside.  "What would you ask
of me, young one?"

   Anula turned to him, keeping her eyes closed, "hold me this night.  Give
me some of your strength.."

   "If..  if that be thy wish, maiden."

   Anula began to falsely stuggle with her gown.  "This garment stifles me,
I cannot sleep in it.."

   Tharc's face reddened again, but grudgingly gave in and helped remove
the silken dress.  Anula lay there, her small body exposed to him as she
feigned drunkenness.  He could not help but gaze upon her beauty.  Her
small breasts, he watched as her nipples firmed in the cool air of the
room. Her thin waist, her belly rose and fell slightly as she drew breath.
The small patch of silver fur at her loins, and a slight gloss of moisture
just below.  Her legs still had the spider's web of silk over them, and she
moved slightly, pretending to be unaware of his gaze.

   Tharc pulled off his cotton tunic, pulled off his belt and removed his
boots.  He paused for a moment, feeling guilty at having seen Anula's naked
body.  He thought to himself that she was naught but a child in his eyes,
even though she was blossoming into adulthood before them as well.  He lay
beside her, pulling the quilt over them, and resting his hands on his
abdomen.

   Anula turned and draped one arm across his chest, and one lithe leg
across his waist.  He had seen her act thus before, she would cling to
rocks or trees or even her own backpack as she slept, clinging as a child
would...

   Tharc took shallow breaths, nervously trying to prevent himself from
thinking of Anula as a women, and keep her image as an innocent in his
head. She fidgeted, and brought one small foot to rest upon his groin.  He
cursed himself for becoming aroused, and he slowly became erect.

   Anula felt him grow, her small foot warmed by his length.  She waited a
while, and fidgeted again, this time winding on top of him.

   The great Tharc lay there, trapped beneath a half-elf perhaps one third
his weight.  Her nipples pressed against his arms, and he could feel her
wetness upon his belly.  He was using all this strength of will to keep
himself from taking her, and felt the his resolve erode slowly, as the
waves of a lake lap over stones on the shore.

   Anula brought herself up to his face and whispered into his ear, as soft
as a summer breeze...

   "Oh, Tharc, I want you to love me, do you not see?"

   Tharc lay still, his resolve began to wear away faster, like pounding
surf upon the cliffs of his homeland.  Anula kissed him lightly, and moved
her body over his ever so slowly.  She hooked her toes into the loose waist
of his trousers, and inched her feet to his manhood.  He stiffened as she
grazed him with her toes.

   "Young Anula..  I..  You are so young.." he stammered.  "I've seen twice
the seasons you have, small one.."

   "Great Tharc, I care naught for such trivial things," she took his face
in her hands and gazed into his deep blue eyes.  "We may not see the end of
the morrow, and I would feel robbed of some great thing had I not spent the
night with you."

   Tharc's renown will collapsed under the weight of one half-elven maiden.
He slowly kicked off his trousers and Anula sat up and straddled his chest.
She leaned down and spoke.

   "I have never before been with a man," she whispered, "please, tell me
what to do.."

   Tharc's large hands took her by the waist, and he gently pulled her to
his face.

   "First, lass, I must kindle your fire," he voiced in soft words.  He
gently brought his tongue to her, and ticked her labia.  She stiffened and
gasped, but made no move to stop him.

   He worked at her with a practiced tongue, although it had been many a
year since he had preformed so, what with adventuring and all.  Anula's
groaned and gasped, a light sheen of sweat covered her and she found
herself thumbing hr nipples.  Her small body shuddered as he flicked her
clittoris, Anula arched her body and gave one long gasp.  She climaxed much
sooner than he had expected.

   Anula was stunned.  Sweating and breathing deeply, she could find no
words to thank him for what he had done..  and how well he had done it.

   "Is it always that..  that..  incredible?" she asked.

   "That was naught but the first act, young one," he replied.  "There is
much more to love than this"

   Anula wondered how anything could be more enjoyable, when Tharc took her
hips by both hands and gently moved her towards his manhood.  She finally
saw his fully erect penis, and by instinct seemed to know what was to
happen next, although she doubted he would fit inside her.

   "Are..  are you sure I can take that?" she asked, hoping the answer
would be yes.

   Tharc knew that there were larger men in the world, but to her, a member
almost as large around as her wrist and over a hand's span wide must seem
much larger to her.

   "We shall see, lass," he said quietly, still feeling slightly guilty for
what he was doing with this innocent maiden he had watched over and
traveled with for over two years.

   She reached down and guided him in.  Tharc felt a weak barrier attempt
to bar his way, and Anula felt a quick spite of pain when she pushed
against him.  She waited a moment to let the pain subside and saw a look of
sadness upon Tharc's weathered face.

   "Why are you pained, my love?  I have wanted this for some time," she
said in a qivering voice, the look on his face seemed to pain her too.

   "Because..  because, dear Anula," he stammered, "I do this with one so
young, one I do have deep feelings for, yet still think of as a daughter."

   Anula had always seen him as a protecter, and had seen him as a father
figure, watching over her over the past two years, but had not thought he
felt so strongly about her,

   "Dear, noble Tharc," she said with the head of his penis still inside
her, "will you not still love me one you have made me a woman?  Will you
not still watch over me?  I have tried to make you express these feelings
to me for many months, and now, as I try to make you finally admit, you
still resist.  Let me love you, and let yourself love me."

   Tharc's guilt subsided.  A great well of joy seemed to pour forth inside
him.  It had been many winters since the last women he loved died in the
Orcish Wars, and he had tried so hard to not feel the same for another
since, lest he should lose her.  And now, here had found one for whom he
could feel for again.

   Anula saw the pain leave his face, and he beamed at her.  Without
another word, he grasped her slight hips and slowly pushed himself into
her. She was tight against him, and she gave a long moan once he was fully
inside.  She was hardly prepared when he lifted her up and pushed her back
down again.  She gasped a high note when the second stroke finished, and
gave another with each additional thrust.

   She grabbed his thick wrists and found his rythm.  Her tiny body rode
his as his muscular arms brought her down faster and faster each time. 
Soon she was bucking and gasping as he fucked her harder and harder.  Tharc
felt his seed well up inside his sac and tried to hold back, lest he spill
himself forth within her.  Anula contracted around him, and cried his name.


   He was caught so unprepared for the force of her climax that he came as
well with one great thrust and shot load after load of himself into her. 
Anula felt him spasm inside her, and a wet warmth seemed to spread within
her.  She collapsed upon him, spent.  They shared a quick kiss and sleep
overtook them.

   . . .

   Later the next day, as Anula waited outside the dungeon, applying herbs
to a gash on her thigh, she wondered what why Tharc had not returned from
it's depths.  He had carried her out an hour before when Kalondriel had
sprung a trap which had killed him and cut a deep wound into her thigh. 
She finished binding her wound and prepared herself to administer last
rites to the deceased theif.  After a lengthy pronouncement of the rites,
spoken in the Old Tongue, she drew a blanket over his still face and bowed
her head.

   They had found no treasure before Tharc had carried her out, and
wondered if the legends of the dungeon's treasures were false.  True, Tharc
had cared naught for riches, for this would be his last adventure before
the two of them settled down to spend the years together.  She hoped he was
still in good health deep inside the tomb.

   Suddenly the ground shook beneath her and a great blast of hot air burst
forth from the mouth of the catacomb.  The reek of brimstone assaulted her
and she thought she heard a great cry issue forth, although weather or not
it was human she was unable to tell.  She grew very worried.

   She waited, and not ten minutes had passed before Tharc emerged from the
dungeon.  His armour was scorched, his sword was broken in his hand.  His
aged sheild was rent and burnt.  His helmet was gone.  Through the gashes
in his armour, many wounds presented themselves, and he staggered forth.

   Tharc drew himself up as best he could, and spoke:

   "This evil is defeated.  I end my days victorius."

   And he fell to his knees, unconcious.



   . . .

   Spring was in full bloom, and the pleasant odour of familiar flowers was
the first thing he smelled.  The air was warm, the sun shone outside the
window.  He awoke slowly, feeling weak and thirsty.  Anula's smile wecomed
him back to the world as she she gave a silent sign to someone behind her
who left the room.

   "My..  my dear Anula.." he whispered, "unless some great tragedy has
befallen you, I must not have passed beyond death's door."

   "You are alive, dear Tharc," she wispered back to him, "You have
weathered fever, infection and many times did I fear you would be lost to
me.  But you are here now, and my magic and medicine have done thier part"

   Tharc sat up slowly.  He looked down at himself.  The great sinews of
Tharc the Warrior had shrunken slightly and he was weak, as though a great
length of time had passed.  He looked to Anula with a confused face and was
stunned with what he saw.

   Her face glowed and her belly was large and round.  She read his
expression and looked down at herself, taking her belly in her hands.

   "Yes, you have been away for a very long time.  The moon has shown its
face eight times since that night back at the Wayfarer's, and your seed
fell in fertile feild.  I did hope you would return in time to see your
child come into this world."

   Tharc felt himself fall back against the headboard.  The weight of years
seemed to press down upon him, but he felt strength well up against it. 
Tharc the Warrior was soon to be a father, and a tear welled up in his eye.

   "Dear Anula, would that I had the coin to marry you in lavish splendor,
but I remember taking naught a single thing from that accuresed dungeon. 
Would you marry me, poor and old as I am?"

   Anula smiled, and took one of his large hands into hers.  "You are not
as old as you think, love, and not so poor as you think either.  Once I had
tended your wounds and saved you from immediate peril, I returned to those
catacombs.  No one had been there since we left, and I claimed more than
just the husks of our friends."

   Garnox burst into the room, his arms wide and his face joyus.

   "My old friend, you waken at long last!  Our dear Anula has watched over
you day and night ere these long months, and finally we can give you the
true surprise!"

   Here, she closed her eyes and cancelled a spell she had only recently
learned.  A spell for rendering a great many things invisible.  Before
Tharc's eyes, the riches of the catacombs appeared before him.  Piled high
on one side of the room were large chests of coins, gems, weapons, bottles,
items and armour.  Platinum, gold, and silver shone there, the light of the
spring day throwing reflections across the room.  Tharc could find no
words.

   "And this is just yours and Anula's share!" Garnox exclaimed.  "We have
given the shares of our lost comrades to thier families, and I have mine
squirreded away back in Stonekeep.  You had hoped to end our campaigns with
a victory, and have also found us enough riches to keep us happy for the
rest of our days, my friend!"

   Tharc looked over to Anula.  She gazed into his eyes and smiled.

   They spent the rest of thier days in a modest keep Tharc had constructed
for them.  A town grew around it over the years, protected by its great
walls and imposing bulk, a testament to thier love.

   "Eye, yes, I remember them, children.  Gather 'round, and I shall tell
you the tale of the mighty Tharc and his loving wife, Anula.  I shall tell
you of thier sons and daughters, and thier children as well.  Let the story
be remembered as I tell it, for you shall be telling it to your
grandchildren as well someday..."

   Garnox, the Ancient King of Stonekeep, telling the same
   story he told every year for ten score years at the
   Great Gatherings.

   

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