Toll of the Forest Elves
"And I come not of my will alone. This night, I am sent to you by the Lord of the Forest himself. To you especially, Tailinn son of Fahlinn; for our Lord has divined the geas under which you walk, and it is his hope -- and mine -- that we can come to an agreement mutually pleasing."
"What?" Gerry finally managed to blurt out. "What agreement? What Lord? Isn't the witch of the Wood a woman?"
At this, the elf's smile faltered a bit, and she replied with a touch of asperity, "Though your kind may call this the 'Witch's Wood', that enchantress lives here by our Lord's grace. This is his domain... and passage through requires a tribute, to show reverence and gain his leave."
"Aha." The dwarf smiled in sour satisfaction. "I knew it. Always a trick with elves, and Wilder Elves are the worst."
The woman laughed, composure regained. "Do the dwarves still slander us so? Is't a trick to levy toll on the ways through our land? Do not humans and your own kin do likewise?"
"Dwarves charge an honest fee of honest coin," Tailinn growled. "Your kind always wants something that should not be parted with."
"Is that so?" Her smile grew sly and knowing. "Would you not part with that spell which binds you to the man you loathe?"
Tailinn started, then his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, and how do you know about that?"
"Did I not say? The Lord of the Forest has keen eyes. No sorcery or craft of magic escapes him. And it is within his power to break this geas, if." She paused on the word, gazing deep into Tailinn's suspicious eyes. "You give yourself to him. For this is our toll -- that all who pass beneath our roof should give unto our Lord one of their own. 'Tis hardly a fee, rather a gift to be given a fair woodland form. But if wayfarers foolishly refuse, and one does not give themselves willingly; then they must pass a trial of force against our Lord. All who fail shall be forfeit to the pleasure of our Lord."
"Sounds about right," growled the dwarf. He hefted his axe. "Off with you, Wilderkin! I'll not trade one slavery for another!"
"You know not what you say," she replied with another tinkling laugh. "Life under the swinging bough is no slavery, even in service to the Forest Lord. Nay indeed, 'tis a sweetness. But what of you, young Gerald of Hayloft?" She turned her glowing eyes on Gerry. "Would you give up a life of thankless toil and hopeless dreams of glory for one of ease and pleasure under the greenwood tree?"
"Don't listen to her," warned Tailinn. "You'd be giving up your honour, your manhood, all your dreams -- and for what? A life of aimless debauchery!"
"Your words are so harsh," she chided lightly. "Does honour count for aught in the scales against freedom and happiness? Would your lives end if you became a son -- or daughter -- of the forest? You would count the cost as little if you truly knew the gain." She looked between them, her eyes searching their hearts.
"So what say you? You both may accept, and leave your orgulous knight alone, if you wish."
There was quiet for a moment, Gerald somewhat surprised at the dwarf's hesitance even as he tried to sort through his own feelings. But finally Tailinn growled out his decision.
"No. Never." His voice gained in certainty, and he raised his axe. "I'll not be some elfling's whore. Nor will the boy. Begone!"
"Speak for yourself alone, son of the mountain. I will hear his answer."
"I, uh..." Gerald looked away, his cheeks red, as the naked beauty turned to him. The dwarf's words whirled in his head together with the woman's. This was too sudden; he did have a life, and while the elf's and the dwarf's words conflicted it did seem obvious he'd be forfeiting his humanity if he went with her. "No, s-sorry lady. I can't give up my dreams like that."
Amariel shook her head in disappointment. "Nay, I am sorry to see both of you reject this boon. Still, you know now that submission is a blessing, not a sacrifice; and there is yet time for you to repent your folly. For you have until the morrow to think it over. Around noon you shall reach a bridge; and there our Lord will bar your further passage. There you must render your final decision." She half-turned to go, but then paused, looking over her bare shoulder, her tail swishing softly.
"Oh, and some parting words of fair counsel ere you choose -- 'tis the Lord who chooses what life to grant you, but he will be swayed by the wishes of those who submit willingly. He will not show such grace to those who try his patience with combat, nor hearken to the tears of the vanquished. And consider well that your party is ill-equipped to deal with one mighty among the Wilder Elves."
Fully turning then, she began to walk away. But before she reached the edge of the glade she vanished, suddenly and without sound. Gerry blinked, wondering for a moment if it had all been a dream. But a look at the worried frown on the dwarf's face dispelled that notion.
"Am I understanding right?" he asked. "One of us must willingly give ourselves to this... Forest Lord, and if not, we have to fight him?"
"Aye," replied Tailinn, voice heavy. "A devil's choice, at least for the unlucky sod who is sacrificed. Unless being fucked like a bitch is appealin' to you. Wilder Elves are little more than animals in fair skin, with not even the façade of decency other elves have. But they are powerful, especially in their wild homes. I doubt Sir Orion could defeat this 'Lord'. And much as I wouldn't mind seein' him get bent over, I'd hate to see your life end in an elfling's harem."
Gerry shivered. He couldn't help but wonder what that would be like. Would he be turned into a voluptuous creature like the woman who'd spoken to them? Or maybe... this Forest Lord preferred men? He did not voice these thoughts to the dwarf, though. Instead he asked another question.
"What is the 'geas' the elfmaid spoke of?"
Tailinn scowled at him, so ferociously that Gerry stepped back. "That's between me and the knight." Then his expression softened, just a bit. "Well, havin' said that much... just, know that I do not serve Sir Orion of my own will."
"So, you're cursed to serve him?" Gerry's curiosity got the better of him. "But I thought dwarves --"
"Keep your nose out of it!" snarled Tailinn. "It's none of your affair."
Wisely, Gerry managed to refrain himself. He knew further questioning would just make the dwarf more sullen; he was lucky to have gotten him to say this much. The elf and her words had really shaken him up.
Tailinn set his axe down and laid in his bedroll, grumbling unintelligibly to himself. But Gerry remained standing, looking indecisively from the trees to Sir Orion's pavilion.
"Do you think we should wake him?" he asked at last. He was a little surprised that he had slept through that; but the knight was a very sound sleeper. About the only thing that could rouse him early was a clarion's call to battle -- say what you would, but Sir Orion was a brave man and relentless in his pursuit of glory.
"No. Let him get his rest. We'll meet the woodland Lord the same either way."
"What about a watch?"
"No need to bother with that now. The fae won't let any harm befall us, at least until after they've had their sport with us."
~ 0 ~
Morning came, and they continued on. Again they were silent -- Sir Orion preoccupied with his quest, and the glories he could reap depending on the outcome; Tailinn and Gerald weighted with the choice hanging over them. They might have spoken of it had they been alone, but it would be unwise to let the knight know now that they had failed to timely inform him of their visitor.
Soon they found the trees pressing in, so that they had to dismount and lead their beasts single-file. After several hours of this, the path widened again and they were able to remount. The trees grew immense, standing like the pillars of cathedrals to either side. It was majestic, but the light grew less and less. Until that is, colourful lamps began to appear, hanging at even spaces along the trees.
"I do not like this," declared Sir Orion, staring hatefully at the pretty lights. "I sense something fey at work here."
"No doubt," grunted the dwarf, riding up and shooting Gerry a glance, warning him not to mention their encounter. "Deep woods are often the haunt of fae of all kinds. But that is where the path plainly leads."
"Hmmmm." Orion shifted in his saddle, obviously torn.
"The wizard we spoke with did warn us not to leave the path," Gerry reminded them. "If we wanted any chance of meeting the witch."
Orion huffed. "Very well. But be on your guards. I have heard that there are Wilder Elves within the Witch's Wood; and they are, I ween, of all elves and fae the worst."
They rode on. Gerry looked at the lights in awe as they passed them. On horseback, they were about level with his head, hanging on stubby branches that almost seemed to have grown for the purpose, with no other branches until the trees spread their crowns far above. They were large globes that seemed to glow softly of themselves, or maybe contained a glowing liquid; but they also held floating motes of colour that bathed the path in gentle rainbow hues. The dwarf and knight however refused to look at the lights, as though they burned with hellfire.
And as they continued down the silent sylvan hall Gerry's skin began to prickle with fear. He had tried to push their fated encounter with the Forest Lord to the back of his mind, but the straightness of the path, the grandeur of the trees and now the fairy lights -- it was obvious to him that they were riding down the road to the dueling ground.
Then ahead he saw a dark natural arch; and passing through the party found themselves in a wide clearing, filled with the natural green dusk of the woodlands. Through the centre of the clearing flowed a wide stream, its water dark in the tree-gloom, but spanned by a stout wooden bridge. It had no rail, but looked to be about ten feet wide. Gerry felt gooseflesh spread over him. This must be it.
And scarce had the thought crossed his mind then the shadows on the far side stirred, and a massive figure stepped from the trees onto the path. Standing at least seven feet tall, not even counting the massive crown of his spreading antlers, he at first seemed to be clad in dark, shiny green. But as Gerry watched the muscles rippling across his broad chest and the swing of his lithe arms and mighty legs, he realised that this was the man's skin. He had wild hair and a pointed beard of a green so dark it was nearly black; and black were his tall pointed wolf ears and plumed wolf tail. His eyes were bright green and luminous, showing his slitted pupils.
Running through his tangled locks was a garland of leaves and flowers; which though it gave no light was also free of shadow, showing every detail of green leaf and delicate white, red or violet petal. He wore gloves and boots of intricately tooled leather, and a wide belt with a heavy gilded boss from which hung an ornate panel of cloth that hid his loins. Gold also glinted from the torc around his thick neck.
Behind him emerged two maidens. One, tall and antlered, Gerry thought he recognised as Amariel. The other was shorter, though no less buxom and even wider in the hips; from the waist up she appeared human, except for the fey points to her ears; but from the waist down was soft brown fur, and her legs ended in the delicate hooves of a hind. Each maiden took up position flanking the far side of the bridge, while the tale male strode to the centre of the bridge and stopped.
He brought his hands in front of him, and there materialised a great double-bladed axe, head resting on the bridge, nearly as long as the dwarf was tall. He folded his hands, resting them on the butt of the axe, as he surveyed the party with his lambent green eyes.
Sir Orion had reined in his horse as soon as soon as the elves had appeared, his sharp gasp audible, but he said nothing. Gerald and Tailinn halted beside him, Gerry biting his lip, sweating in the tension and the windless air of the deepwoods. The Forest Lord! It had to be; and he was the one to speak first.
"I bid you fair greetings, travellers." His voice was deep, deeper than Sir Orion's and richer; rumbling like thunder and seeming to reverberate back from the trees and the ground. "I am Pelodir, Lord of the Forest."
"I know not of any lord of the Witch's Wood," replied Sir Orion. He was seething, but as Gerald had seen him do before, forced himself into a cold formality. Courtesy was a knightly virtue; and if Orion was arrogant he was not stupid enough to taunt a fey lord in his own domain. "The wild forest is free by the laws of my king; by what right do you bar my passage?"
"The wild forest is free of the laws of thy king," retorted the Forest Lord. "For it lieth under the law of the Wilder folk, and I am king here." His words hung heavy in the air, daring the human knight to challenge his authority further. Sir Orion ground his teeth.
"And what would the king of the Wilder folk want with me?" he said after a minute.
"As strangers newcome to the Wood, ye may enter no deeper into my realm unless ye pay me due tribute. All who wish to pass this bridge must yield themselves to me, to be remade in what form I deem good; or best me in single combat. An ye find these terms not to your liking, ye are free to return whence ye came.
"However to companies such as you are, I give this mercy: only one need offer himself, as surety for the rest -- a proof of the bonds between you, and your good faith." A smile tugged at his lips. Gerry suspected he knew quite well of the lack of love between the members of their group. "The others may pass freely."
"We wish only to go to the witch's hut and prove her for good or ill," declared Sir Orion. "We mean no mischief to your folk or your forest. I pray you, forbear your tribute, and let us pass on our errand."
"The witch is of the Wood," countered Pelodir, "and therefore my concern. Nor do I lay aside my custom at a word."
"Very well; I wished but to spare you the grief of defeat, but if you insist." Sir Orion shifted in the saddle. He sounded sure of himself, but he was not so arrogant as that either. He would rather have avoided combat with this fey giant. But since diplomacy would not work, his pride left him only one option. "What are the terms of the combat?"
"Ye have a choice. As with submission, ye may select a champion to fight for your whole company, with everyone's fate resting on the one trial. Or ye may choose to fight me each singly; whoso prevaileth, passeth on; whoso faileth, is mine. Ye need deal me no injury; only drive me from the bridge."
"And what if we slay you?" asked Sir Orion. "Will any vengeance befall us?"
At that, the Lord laughed, and it felt look the whole forest shook. "Slay me? Thou hast no weapon, Sir Knight, that can so much as bite my flesh, let alone pierce to my vitals! 'Twould take one far surpassing thee in sorcerous might or divine favour to match the Lord of the Forest!"
A growl echoed from Orion's helmet. Silence fell as the knight struggled to control his temper. Suddenly the travellers were startled by a different voice.
"Remember." The three all looked to the side, to the elfmaid with antlers and fox's tail. Tailinn and Gerry recognised her sweet voice; this was indeed Amariel. "All have a choice. You are not bound by the will of your leader alone."
Sir Orion scoffed dismissively, not seriously thinking that his retainers would gainsay him. But Tailinn and Gerald both shifted in their saddles. With Orion and his massive destrier in between they could not really share a look, but the same thought was in their minds. They both felt the amber glow of the maiden's eyes on them, and her previous words were clear in their minds -- if one submitted willingly, they would have a say in their fate. Otherwise, it seemed they would have to gamble that the knight could defeat the elvenking, and if not, be turned against their wills.
What choice is made?
Title suggestions for new chapters. Please feel free to use them or create your own below.
Legend: Nudity, Self pleasure male, M/M Sex, M/F Sex, F/F Sex, Self pleasure female, Sex beyond any of the above, Violence