Warning: This story contains scenes of sex between consenting minors (well, this bit doesn't but the next ones do :) ), so if stuff like that is illegal in your area, or you object to it, THEN DON'T READ IT!!
This story is a complete work of fiction (obviously, or do people run around with swords where you live? If they do, I want to move there...), any likenesses to actual persons are merely coincedental. It was created for fun (and because I'd nothing better to do), no profit is being made from the distribution of this story.

Alright, now that that's out of the way...
This is my first attempt at writing a story of this kind, though I've had experiance writing fantasy short stories on the internet before. Like I said, there's no sex in this part, since it's intended more as an introduction, but the next part (which I'll hopefully have finished inside the next couple of days) will definitely heat up :p 
Any comments should be e-mailed to blackdranzer2004@hotmail.com
Enjoy! :D

Tales Of Ragnarok:

Chapter 1: A Boy And A Sword

The sun beat down on his bare back as he trudged his way across the desert. The weight of the boy he was carrying had made his arms go numb long since. But he wouldn't dream of stopping, of giving in. Not now, not ever. His boy needed him. Cuts and bruises covered his body, and the pain of broken ribs lanced through him with every step. He wouldn't give in. He couldn't. 
The desert heat surrounded him, sapping his strength. Why had he volunteered for this crazy mission in the first place? There was no answer to be found in the surrounding wasteland. Suddenly, the last of his strength left him. He stumbled and fell to his knees. He couldn't give in, he had to.... 
His strength was gone. He could hardly move. He licked dry lips with an equally dry tounge. In the distance, he thought he saw the shimmering of metal, the dull thump-thump-thump of a helicopter. He had to be imagining it... His strength was fading, and with it his consciousness. Darkness surrounded him, and everything faded to black...

Two years earlier:

Gar rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling of the room he shared with two other boys. He thought of jerking off, but discarded the thought. He knew he wouldn't get much pleasure from it. Since discovering the joys of sex nearly a year ago, he'd become like an addict. Luckily, living in an all-boys orphanage meant there was plenty of meat to go around. Normally. Unfortunatly, most of the boys were gone for two weeks on a camping trip. Gar hadn't been able to go with them because he'd caught a cold, which was better now. Of the few boys left, most of them were sixteen or seventeen, and he was definitly not ready for the kind of sex they liked yet. Of the boys his age, some of them were together, and he didn't like any of the rest. Might as well hump a pig, he thought wryly to himself. 
Sighing, he decided to get up and go for a walk. He would've preferred a swim, but the sight of so much bare flesh would only serve to make him even hornier.
Gar was thirteen years old and pretty tall for his age. He had wavy blond hair which he never bothered to comb or style, it looked good anyway, so why bother?, and deep green eyes flecked with gold. His entire body was perfectly tanned, with not a hair anywhere. His flat stomach and strong muscles spoke of his time spent in the athletic club, though he did karate and swimming as well. In short, he was perfect in every way, and he knew it.
Heading out of the orphanage grounds, which were relatively large, he decided to walk into the city and have a look around.
In town he came across a small shop he'd never noticed before, a shop selling antique weapons. What the heck, might as well take a look. Can't get horny looking at guns and swords after all. A pair of gorgeus looking boys were walking along the other side of the street. Gar felt his dick stir, and marched determindly into the store. Even if I have to spend all day in here cooling off...
Inside, the store was pretty much what he had expected: full of shelves with everything from muskets to maces, with a small, wrinkled old man behind the counter.
"May I help you?" the man asked.
"No, thanks. Just lookin' around," Gar replied.
He walked among the racks full of ancient guns, but it was the swords in a small back room that really caught his attention. 
"Can I look in there?" he asked, pointing at the room full of swords.
"But of course," the man replied, a strange, knowing smile on his face.
Gar walked into the room and gasped. From top to bottom, the walls of the circular room were covered with swords of all types and descriptions.
One in particular caught and held his gaze. A Katana, its blade as long as his arm, gleaming brightly in the light of the lamps hanging from the ceiling. Obviously a warrior's weapon, with no unnecessary decorations, it was simultaneously the most beautiful and deadliest thing he had ever seen. Not caring if he was allowed to, he reached out and touched it, running his finger along the blade, feeling the outline of the dragon etched into the steel. The touch was electric, sending a jolt through him with waves of the most wonderful feeling he'd ever had. It was like meeting an old friend after too many years apart.
"I see you like the sword." Gar jumped at the sound of the old man's voice behind him and guiltily drew his hand away from the Katana.
The old man moved forward and stood beside him.
"Take it," he said, "it is yours."
Gar stammered something like: "I couldn't possibly buy it, I don't have the money, and besides, I -"
The man cut him off with that knowing smile again. "I meant take it, not buy it. It is yours. It belongs to you, any fool can see that. The sword chooses the owner, not the other way around. Its name is Ragnarok."
Gar swallowed. "You really mean it?" The old man nodded.
Barely able to contain his excitement, Gar reached out and lifted the sword by its hilt. It felt surprisingly light, he could wield it easily with one hand. He tried a few moves with the sword, fascinated by the way it sliced through the air with no restriction at all.
"You might need this," the old man suggested gently, holding out the sword's scabbard. Gar took it and sheathed the blade. The same dragon, worked in red, was on the scabbard.
"Thank you," he whispered.
The old man smiled again and hustled him to the door. "Go, my young friend. I've a feeling you'll be needing that sword before much longer. Should we ever meet again, you may call me Merrilin."
Gar found himself out in the street again, the sunlight momentarily dazing him after the dull light of the store. Suddenly he noticed a figure, standing in the middle of the street. A figure holding a sword.
Turning around, he started to say: "Hey, do you see-" and broke off. The shop was gone. There was nothing behind him but an empty lot.
"What the -?"
Whipping around again, he saw that the figure with the sword was still there, but facing away from him. "What's going on here?"
Gripping his own sword tightly, Gar ran towards the figure. When he was close enough to see that it was a boy, and not much older than him, he called out to him. "Hey, you, who -?" He stopped midsentance, his jaw hanging open when he saw what it was the boy was facing. A monster. That was the only way he knew to describe it. The... thing ... looked vaguely human, but no human ever had red eyes. Or teeth sharp enough to tear through flesh. Or claws that looked like they could skin a person alive. Vaguely, in some part of his mind that wasn't shocked by what he was seeing, Gar noticed the thing also gripped a sword in its hand.
Calmly, without turning round, the boy replied: "Get out of here kid. This is no place for you."
Without another word, he darted foward, sword already swinging to attack. The monster blocked his first stroke neatly, and the two of them danced back and forth, each stroke parried perfectly. Until the boy stumbled. With a snarl, the monster leaped foward, his sword slashing into the boy's arm. With a cry of pain, the boy fell to the ground. Grinning fiendishly, the monster moved to finish him.
Quickly, got to help!
Without thinking, Gar unsheathed his own sword and ran foward, catching the downstroke before it was halfway to the helpless boy lying on the ground.
"What!?" The monster's voice grated like two pieces of sandpaper being rubbed together.
" 'Fraid you'll have to get through me first, ugly!" Gar grinned at the monster and pressed his attack. He felt like someone else was controlling him, felt light flow through him. It was like a warm embrace, and he let himself be smothered by it. He blocked the monster's counterstrokes easily, then he forced the monster's blade down, till its point stuck in the ground. Swinging his own sword up effortlessly, he lopped the thing's head off.
Suddenly he felt weak, tired, breathless, like he'd just run a marathon. He fell to the ground, trying to breathe, and passed out.

When he woke again, he was in a hospital bed, and a man was standing over him. Not a doctor, though, the man was dressed in a black suit, and wore dark sunglasses. 
"Ah, you're awake. Good. We were worried about you."
"Who are you, and where am I?"
The man smiled and took his sunglasses off. He had blue eyes and a very handsome face. Gar berated himself. Now's not the time to think with your dick, idiot!
You're in a hospital of course. I am Yamaki. I believe you've already met Shinto?"
Gar turned his head to see the boy from the street sitting on the edge of the bed beside his, eying him with interest. Shinto was about fifteen, Gar saw, tall with curly black hair and brown eyes. Despite the loose shirt he wore, Gar could tell he had a great body. He noticed Shinto's arm was bandaged where the monster's sword had caught him.
Gar felt a familiar stirring in his loins, and forced it down ruthlessly. He looked at Shinto cooly.
"You could say that," he replied.
He turned back to Yamaki. "What was that thing I killed?"
Yamaki chuckled softly. "You don't waste any time do you? Simply put, it was a demon, a rather weak one, but a demon all the same. We, that is Shinto and I, are from an organization known as the Order of the Light. We are responsible for hunting down and killing demons. We recruit our members rather exclusively, and I'm both surprised and impressed with your skills."
Gar gulped. He didn't like where this was going. 
"What exactly are you trying to say?"
Yamaki stared at him intently. "I want you to join the Order."
Gar laughed out loud.
"Join some crazy Order with a bunch of wackos who hunt monsters? You gotta be kidding."
Yamaki just continued to stare at him. "You'd rather waste away in that orphanage until they through you out to fend for yourself?"
Gar turned away. Hot tears filled his eyes as he remembered why he was in an orphanage in the first place, but he refused to cry in front of strangers.
This Yamaki guy seems pretty serious, though.
He turned back to Yamaki. "And what's in it for me?"
"A place to live, training, money once you start taking missions... and a family."
Gar laughed again, softer this time.
"Family, huh? Don't know what that word means, pal, but the money bit sounds good."
"So you'll come to the Academy?"
Academy? Hmm, if it's anything like the orphanage... Gar allowed himself a sly smile. What the heck, can't be worse after all.
"Alright, you got a deal."