Message-ID: <185.repost$980809050146@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: john_dark@anon.nymserver.com Subject: {GrayMouser}JDR"Mystical Wish A"( MF fant f-solo )[1/2] Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <6qbvcu$di9$1@sparky.wolfe.net> JOHN DARK REPOST The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are below the age of eighteen or are otherwise forbidden to read electronic erotic fiction in your locality, please delete this message now. The story codes in the subject line are intended to inform readers of possible areas that some might find distasteful, but neither the poster nor the author make any guarantee. You should be aware that the story might raise other matters that you find distasteful. You read at your own risk. The enjoyment of these reposts can be increased by reading the "Coming Attractions," which includes the titles to be reposted in the next week. These stories have not been written by the person posting them. Many of those e-mail addresses below the author's byline still work. If you liked the story, either drop the author a line at that e-mail address or post a comment to alt.sex.stories.d. Please don't post it to alt.sex.stories itself. Posting the comment with a Cc: to the author would be the best way to encourage them to continue entertaining you. The copyright of this story belongs to the author, and the fact of this posting should not be construed as limiting or releasing these rights in any way. In most cases, the author will have further notices of copyright below. If you keep the story, *PLEASE* keep the copyright disclaimer as well. ===================== Mystical Wish Gray Mouser the.gray.mouser@f750.n154.z1.fidonet.org "He knows how much you really want him. He knows just what you want him to do." - Tony Banks Section A: The forest lay blanketed under the shroud of night, lightly kissed by the soft glow of the full moon above. A lone figure stole quietly through the thick brush, carefully moving the branches out of its path as it made its way towards the small clearing in the forest's center. Stopping abruptly, it studied the ground ahead of it for a moment before taking a short hop forward. "Bless the Lady for her gentle light!" the cloaked elf whispered with a smile as he took a quick glimpse of the moon overhead. His eyes returned to the ground and he shook his head sadly as he regarded the concealed snare he had just escaped. "The humans are a cowardly race," he thought sourly. "A poor hunter would kill an animal without first looking him in the eye." Pulling his small knife from his belt, he carefully sliced the snare from the thin cord holding down the sapling. With a *whoosh* of rustling leaves the tree stood back up quickly. Sheathing the knife, he walked to the tree and examined the cracked bark where the tree had been bent. He shook his head again and bound the tree tightly with the leather thong that had been the snare. The wound closed, he nodded happily and continued his trek. His mind returned to his quest and he went over the legends in his mind. The old woman he spoke with had told him tales of a great mystic, one who had traveled the world and learned its many secrets. It was said he could work miracles, conjuring great magicks that could heal the mind and soul or just as easily destroy them. The elements bent to his whim and he held mastery over angels and demons alike. These powers held no interest for the young elf, however, as he was content to be only a dabbler in forest magic. The one thing that *had* piqued his interest was what she had told him next. The mystic knew of the intricate workings of the spirit, specifically the bond formed between man and woman. This was the knowledge he sought, the answer to the nagging questions that plagued his every waking moment. * * * Chakyna. His heart beat fiercely in his chest just thinking of her name. Ever since he had met her, his thoughts revolved around this elven maiden sent from the heavens to throw his entire world into turmoil. His life had been blessedly simple before that, his days filled with happy journeys through his beloved forest, tending the trees and their many inhabitants. The animals knew him and called him friend. He frequented the neighbouring villages and all who knew him spoke favourably of him, as he was always quick with a helping hand or a gentle smile. Several moons ago he had been helping the father of a new family to the area build their small house. They had worked feverishly, hoping to finish the dwelling before the short but brutal winter season started in earnest. He was installing the heavy shutters on the windows alone that day while the father, Thorash by name, went to pick up his family who had been staying with friends during the building. Picking up the heavy oaken shutter, his muscles strained as he moved it into position on the window. Suddenly a cool hand tapped him on the shoulder from behind, startling him. The shutter slipped from his hands and came crashing down upon his foot. He cursed loudly and fell to the ground, clutching his injury. Spinning around to find the culprit, he raised his eyes and above him stood a vision in peasant's clothes. Her long silvery hair streamed over her slight shoulders like the wind flowing through the trees at night. Delicate hands held a small pitcher to her chest, almost hiding her smallish breasts from view. Flashing violet eyes looked down at him and her slim pouting lips curled into a small grin. "I'm sorry I frightened you, sir," she said, her voice a melody known only to the angels. "Father suggested I bring you some water." He sat there, completely oblivious to her words, captivated by her exquisite beauty. Suddenly a loud voice shouted, "Chakyna! What happened?" She turned and replied, "He dropped the shutter. I think he may be hurt." The sound of a man running was followed by a familiar voice saying, "Greywind! Are you alright?" The man reached him and extended his hand down to him. Greywind took the hand and stood gingerly, never once removing his staring gaze from the elven maiden. "I am fine, friend Thorash," he said quietly. "I was just... startled." Thorash had taken note of the young elf's fascination and he smiled knowingly. "All the same, why don't you take a rest? You might want to soak that foot in the river a space to keep it from swelling." Finally tearing his eyes from her, Greywind smiled at his friend. "An excellent idea." He started off but as soon as he put his weight onto his injured foot he stumbled and fell to the ground with a grunt of pain. Thorash carefully helped him up and was struck by a sudden thought. "Chakyna, please help Greywind to the river. I must finish helping your mother unload the wagon." Thorash lifted Greywind's arm from around his neck and before Greywind could protest his arm was draped across the beautiful girl's shoulders. He stared into her wide eyes as he heard Thorash's voice call out as he ran back to the wagon, "Dinner will be in a few hours, but take as much time as you need to heal yourself!" Greywind stared helplessly into the twin pools of her eyes, unable to break their mystical hold on him. His mouth opened and he managed to blurt out, "My name is Greywind." "So I heard," her voice chimed back with an amused air. "And mine is Chakyna, as you have heard." "Lovely," he whispered. She blushed faintly and said, "I must apologize for father. He takes great joy lately in pushing me upon any man within reach." Her hand swept back her hair, revealing her daintily-pointed ears. "I do not mind," Greywind breathed, shivering slightly as her hair brushed against his bare chest. Suddenly he realized his condition and he stammered, "I'm terribly sorry! I should put on my shirt." "Why?" she asked lightly. "I've been working all day. I must simply reek! I...," he babbled, wishing suddenly that the ground would open under him and hide him from her. "Silly man," she giggled. "I am no stranger to hard labour. I've found that work brings out the true essence of one." Sniffing deeply, she continued, "From yours I can tell you are honest and kind. That should be shared, not covered up." His eyes widened as he took in her words and he asked, "Are you a mystic?" "Not fully, but mother has taught me a bit. Come, we should go to the river. Your foot has already started to swell." He looked down and saw the top of his foot bulging against the doeskin shoes he wore and he nodded quickly. A few minutes later Greywind was sitting upon a large rock and removing his shoe gingerly. As he feared, his foot was now considerably swollen and was throbbing painfully. He eased it into the water and sighed happily. "Better?" she asked. "A little," he replied. Noting the lazily-flowing waters of the stream, he said, "The dry summer has slowed the river. My foot will have to soak for quite a while at this rate." Thinking a moment, he smiled and said, "Perhaps I can speed it along." Reaching his hand into the cool water, he closed his eyes and envisioned the waters rushing past. The flow increased dramatically and he smiled as they chilled his injured foot. "A forest mage, hmmm?" he heard her voice whisper incredulously. "Not really," he answered without opening his eyes. "I learned some things from a man I grew up with. He was..." His voice broke off as he suddenly overbalanced, toppling headlong into the river. His body drenched by the icy waters, he bolted upright and shrieked but then stopped abruptly as he heard Chakyna's laughter. He stared at her fiercely before relenting and chuckling along with her. He limped back out of the river and sat down beside her. "I can't believe I did that," he mumbled in embarrassment. "Well you *did* want to wash up before, yes?" she said with a mad grin. Looking back at her sparkling eyes, he nodded. "But not *quite* like that!" he said, waving his hand at the river. Water splashed from his dripping arm, sprinkling her face lightly. He gasped and apologized, reaching for her and saying, "I'm so sorry! Here, let me..." As his hand brushed her cheek, his body stiffened. He stared at her fearfully, as if she were a deadly snake about to strike. She purred softly at his touch and pressed her cheek into his hand. His heart beat wildly, causing his blood to race frantically throughout his body, at last finding his manhood and causing it to lurch madly inside his leggings. She closed her eyes and continued to nuzzle his unmoving hand, saying softly, "You are truly a gentle and noble man. I can tell. Please, don't stop." His mind raced, "Stop what? I've no idea what I've *started*!" Summoning his last bit of strength, he pulled his hand away guiltily. Her eyes opened and she asked, "What's wrong?" "M... my foot," he stuttered. "It's..." He looked down at his foot and was actually relieved to see that it had resumed its swelling now that it was outside the cool stream. She looked at it and frowned slightly. Looking at him, she asked, "Might I try to heal it?" "How?" he asked, being carefully not to make eye contact with her. "Something mother taught me once. I could try it, if you'll let me." Without answering, he lifted his leg and placed the injured foot before her. "What should I do?" he asked. "Just be quiet," she said with a smile that went unseen. Grasping his cold foot in her slim warm hands, she said, "Relax." Closing her eyes, she started to sing a song in a language he had never heard before, a trilling melody that reminded him of the joyous song of the birds during the spring mating. Her voice sent shivers through his body as his eyes lifted and locked on her angelic face. His stare caressed the soft light skin of her cheeks, down along the delicate jaw then up over her slightly moist lips. Her song continued as did his visual exploration, up over her small nose to her closed eyes. Her eyelids fluttered slightly as she sang, brushing her long eyelashes over the tops of her cheeks. Suddenly her song ended and her eyes opened wide, catching him in their all-encompassing power. He felt like he was falling deeper and deeper into the very soul of this magical woman, trapped forever in her bewitching gaze. "How does it feel?" he heard her voice whisper. Unconsciously he replied, "How does what feel?" She giggled and said, "Your foot, silly!" running a finger up across the sole of his foot for emphasis. His leg twitched as she tickled him and the spell was broken for a space. He laughed and pulled his foot back towards himself to inspect it. Much to his amazement, it was no longer swollen and the pain was gone. Picking his leg up slightly, he wiggled his toes and whispered, "It doesn't hurt at all!" "I'm glad," she said with a satisfied smile. Placing a hand on his thigh, she absently stroked his leg and leaned close to him. "Perhaps you could find a way to thank me?" she asked playfully. Greywind's mind exploded in confusion. "Wh... what would you like?" he asked hesitantly. Reaching forward, her other hand trailed down the center of his slick bare chest. Her warm breath tickled his ear and she cooed, "I'm sure you'll think of something." Unfortunately for Greywind, thinking was the *last* thing his mind was capable of at that moment. Bolting to his feet, he blurted, "I have to change my clothes." "What?" she asked in disbelief. "But..." His swift feet had already sprung into action and he called back, "Tell your father I will be back to help him finish the shutters shortly," as he raced through the forest towards the small clearing that was his only home. Intent on putting as much distance between himself and Chakyna as possible, he barely heard her calling out after him, "Greywind! Come back!" * * * "You were a fool for just leaving her there like that," he berated himself for what must have been the hundredth time today. Thinking back, he reminded himself yet again that staying wouldn't have solved the problem which had caused him to flee in the first place. He had no idea exactly *what* Chakyna wanted. His mind wandered back to distant memories of his childhood. The loving golden-haired woman and the strong dark-haired man came to mind, shadows of his parents that his memory could no longer form proper pictures of. A familiar chill raced through him as he relived that day, coming home after spending the night unknown to them in his beloved forest only to find them both murdered in their sleep by unknown assassins for the few gold coins they had. He remembered his future mentor, Steelhawk, walking in the door several hours later to explore the burned-out wreck of a shack and finding him huddled in the corner crying hysterically. Steelhawk took him as a traveling companion and was both father and teacher to him from that day forward. They had parted company some three years ago by mutual decision, one which Greywind now regretted as he longed for the one lesson his friend had neglected to teach him. He wished desperately to know what to do with the fairer sex. In his twenty-two years he had seen numerous displays of affection between men and women during his travels with Steelhawk, but the greatest mystery of all still eluded him. Why did his body react that way when he and Chakyna got close? Why did Chakyna look at him that way, and exactly *what* did she want of him? These questions tugged at his mind constantly all through the winter. He had visited his friend Thorash and his family several times, and each time he was overwhelmed with the same feelings whenever he saw her. His heart beat fiercely and his words seemed to stick in his throat. Ever since their first encounter by the stream, he was always careful *never* to be alone with her for fear that he would inadvertently do something wrong and offend this fair maiden whose beauty called to him during the day and filled his dreams at night. His silent cry for help was answered one day in early spring in the unexpected form of an elderly blind woman named Shrilahr. He had bumped into her, quite literally, one afternoon as he strolled through the marketplace of a neighbouring village. Helping her back to her feet, he gathered her day's purchases and carried them back to her humble cottage. They had talked along the way and she had coaxed his problems out of him. She told him of the legend of the great mystic and how he helped those who needed him. "Go to the center of the forest, my boy," she had told him, "on the first night of the spring moon. Wish for him and he will appear as the moon reaches her peak. You'll see." "First night of the spring moon," he repeated as his mind returned to the present. "Now." Reaching the clearing at last, he looked over it and nodded happily. This had been his home for the last three years, after he had quit the wandering life with Steelhawk. With the bits of forest magic he had learned from him, life here was quite comfortable. The animals kept him aware of the happenings in the forest and he in turn kept them safe from the encroaching menace of the humans. A chittering sounded and he turned to see a young chipmunk looking up at him inquisitively. He smiled and made a series of chirps, which the chipmunk answered. Nodding, he waved his hand and chittered once. His small friend scurried off to its burrow and he wondered, "So no one has been around. I wonder what is keeping him." Vaulting up into the lower branches of a nearby tree, he started to pull himself upwards. "Perhaps I can get a better look around," he thought. Suddenly the many noises of the night started to dwindle. The owl in the next tree who had been hooting madly until this point fell deathly silent, as did the pair of possums making their way through the brush. The wind itself seemed to blow itself out and the unnatural calm caused a chill to race up Greywind's spine. Then, without warning, he saw it. Looking down from his perch, he saw the bushes surrounding the far side of the clearing part themselves. Through the newly-formed gap floated a thin figure clad in a flowing black robe. Greywind's sharp eyes detected no movement below his robe and he pondered, "He moves without walking?" The figure levitated to the center of the clearing and appeared to descend slightly as it touched the ground. Suddenly a chittering noise broke the eerie silence as Greywind's chipmunk friend returned. The black-clad figure chuckled softly and turned towards it, bending down and extending a thin, wraithlike hand. Without hesitation the chipmunk hopped onto the withered palm. The hand raised before the cloaked face and a quiet conversation started as chirps and squeaks were exchanged. The cloaked one turned its head and seemed to look at something before chittering an instruction. The chipmunk bounded off its hand and across the clearing to pick up a small object in its mouth which it brought back to the mystic. Greywind watched intently as the mystic took the item from the chipmunk before dismissing it with a quick chirp. A male voice intoned, "The roots of love," as his hand raised the object up to appraise it by the soft glow of the moon. Held between skeletal thumb and forefinger, Greywind saw a familiar item - a small heart carved from sandalwood. This one was an earlier imperfect version of the one he had... The one he had made for Chakyna. ===================== Mystical Wish Gray Mouser Section A -30- -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----