Message-ID: <24996asstr$962770213@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: hick@main.jetnet.ab.ca (KNW) X-Original-Path: 207.153.6.28 X-Original-Message-ID: <39616b3c_6@news.oanet.com> Subject: {ASSM} One Last Night at the Wayfarer's Inn - By KNW Date: Wed, 5 Jul 2000 00:10:14 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: assm-admin 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. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ This post has been reformatted by ASSTR's Smart Text Enhancement Processor (STEP) system due to inadequate formatting. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+