Operation Alfur Chapter 5

Operation Alfur Chapter 5 Operation Alfur Chapter 5

Status: In Progress

Genre: Fantasy


Status: In Progress

Genre: Fantasy


Following chapter 4


Following chapter 4


Submitted: May 01, 2016

A A A | A A A


Submitted: May 01, 2016




Chapter 5.


Having finished their refreshments, Lindstra took the plate and cups back to his kitchen. He returned and - having lit his pipe again - continued with the tale: “A few days later, Arandron came home early. He told his wife that he was only there for a short while. He then informed Buren: “Princess Freyur has agreed to meet with you at the lodge on her father's estate on the outskirts of Yaderheim. There she will hear your request. I did tell you not to be concerned. She seems eager to meet you.”


“These are good tidings.” Exclaimed the youth, “When will she see me?”


“Tomorrow morning.” Came the reply, “I am to take you to the lodge this evening. The staff there will see that you are properly looked after overnight. Her Highness will be arriving some time in the morning. Once she is ready, she will send someone to call you. Come, we must depart now.”


Buren was accompanied by a small troop, led by the Captain. They left the city, and headed in a northerly direction. Just as the sun was sinking on the horizon, they arrived at an ancient estate, with rough stone walls and solid gateposts. There was an arch, sculpted out of what looked like bronze, with a bas-relief of one of the ancient Kings and his Queen riding on horseback. There was a free-standing sculpture of an eagle with its wings spread out as if it was about to take off, its majestic head pointing straight up into the sky.


The lodge itself was on the verge of the forest. It was built on a slope, and the main entrance was at the same level as the second storey. There was a stairway descending to the lower level where the attendant staff members lived. The second level led to a huge hallway with stairs ascending to a third floor, and then another to the topmost part of the building. There was also a loft, but one could not see the stairs that led to it from the hall.


Upon entering, Buren felt like he was a noble of some stature. Two elves came to greet him. They bowed, and bade him welcome. One of them carried his bag, that all of a sudden, seemed very small and somewhat shabby for the elegance that surrounded him. He was shown to a large bedroom where he would spend the night. The youth had to make a mental note as to where he was going, because he knew that if he did not, he would almost certainly lose his way. There was a luxurious bathroom on-suite, and one of the attendants informed him that he would arrange for a change of clothing to be delivered to him.


Of course, in those days, bathing was something rarely done, especially amongst the common folk. But the youth took it upon himself to take a bath before dressing for the evening meal. He was surprised that it felt so good to be clean, and the warm water helped soothe the slight nervousness that knotted his stomach. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever imagine that he would meet a real elf, let alone a Princess!


No sooner had he finished bathing, when there was a knock at the door. He expected it to be the elf that had told him that he would arrange fresh clothing. When he opened, however, he was surprised to meet a young she-elf. Luckily he had the presence of mind to clothe himself in a robe that had been provided for him. It was a bit tight, but at least it covered him sufficiently.






He had heard about the beauty of the elves, and had seen it for himself when he met Arandron's wife, Meriel, but the young elf-maiden that stood before him was the epitome of elven comeliness. She had long auburn hair that fell down passed the middle of her back. Her eyes were like dark emeralds that shone under long dark eyelashes. Buren stood there transfixed by such splendour. He awkwardly corrected himself as he came to his senses. The maiden smiled, handing him a bundle of clean clothes.


“Greetings sire. Your clothing.” She stated, trying not to notice that he still could not take his eyes off her.


Buren smiled, and responded: “I thank you. I assure you, I am no sire. In my homeland, I am but a humble stable hand. I tend the King and Queen's horses. You need not call me by a noble title. My name is Buren. May I ask you yours, so that if we meet again while I am within these noble walls, I can greet you thereby.”


The maiden blushed, and she replied: “My name is Alorwen. But may I still call you 'Sire'? For I perceive that there is nobility in you, despite what you say of your humble station. Besides, in this place, it is a great honour to tend to the Royal Mounts, and there are only a few that are afforded such a privilege.”


“Very well then. If it will make you feel more comfortable. You may call me sire.” Buren accepted. The she-elf smiled, bowed again, and then left the youth so that he could get changed.


Some time later, she returned to inform him that dinner was served. When he arrived at the large dining hall, he found that a single place had been set at the head of the long table. There was an assortment of food such as he had never seen in his life before. Naturally there was no meat, but the vegetable pastries, breads and salads, not to mention the fruit and the cakes, more than compensated for that. In a silver carafe was a rich red wine, and next to it a matching silver goblet.


He asked Alorwen, who was standing behind him, if she would sit with him while he dined. She blushed, and informed him that it would be considered improper for one of the servants to share a table with any of the Princess's guests. He reluctantly acceded, and asked if she would at least stand where he could see her, so that he could talk to her as he ate. To this she agreed.


Not only was Alorwen very beautiful, but also highly intelligent. Their conversation flowed freely. During the course of the meal, she told Buren that it was she who had arranged for him to meet with Princess Freyur ...”


Lindstra paused for a while. He seemed to be having a problem with his pipe. He tapped it out on the stone next to the fireplace, and emptied the ash into the fire. Then he refilled it with fresh tobacco, and relit it. He took a long draw, causing the pipe to glow red hot inside, and then blew a smoke ring that wafted up to the ceiling before dissipating again.


Caroline took the opportunity to ask: “How is it that they understood each other?” And then she corrected herself by adding: “Of course, Buren would have been speaking Norse, one of the languages believed to be closest to the elvish tongues.”


Lindstra nodded: “Just as you say. Sorry about the delay. So - Once Buren had finished eating, he felt more than a little weary. The effects of the wine, as well as the day's activities, had caught up with him. That night, he slept more soundly than he ever had before. The bed was extremely comfortable, and the pure cotton linen made the experience even more exhilarating.


The following morning, he was awakened by the sound of someone knocking lightly on the door. It was Alorwen. She came in and opened the curtains, letting the dappled sunlight in. As it fell on her pretty face, the youth felt enraptured all over again by her exquisite beauty. She became aware of his attention, but this time - instead of blushing as she had before - she smiled back at him. He felt as if his heart would burst out of his chest as their eyes met for an instant. Checking herself, the she-elf informed him that he should come and eat before her Mistress arrived. She left the room in somewhat of a hurry, but as she did, she flashed him another of her intoxicating smiles.


The morning meal was taken outside, under the canopy of tall trees that hung over a set of furniture made of metal and wood. Although lighter, it was still much more than the youth was accustomed to. Instead of wine, his hosts offered him a herbal tea (“... One that you have been made familiar with already I hear ...” The Storyteller added. Caroline nodded with a smile.)


“Buren was instructed to wait in the drawing room until the Princess was ready to see him. The time seemed to tick passed so slowly, and he felt the knot in his stomach return. His mouth went dry, and his palms began to sweat. He tried to settle down, but soon was pacing the carpeted floor. In reality, it was only an hour later that he was summoned. But it felt like an eternity to him. At last, an elven guard entered the room.


“Her Highness will see you now. Follow me.” He instructed. Buren followed his escort down the passage to a large room, inside of which he expected to find a throne. Instead it appeared to be a sitting room, with large chairs. In front of one of the open windows sat what Buren could easily have mistaken to be a Valkyrie, or even an angel. Her hair was silvery blonde, and on her noble head, she wore a delicate tiara of silver leaves joined together with fine decorative stems. Her eyes were pale blue, and were accentuated by fine tattoos that resembled dark blue leaves, and dark make-up that made them look as though they could pierce right through to one's very soul.


He went down on one knee before her, and she laughed. Her laughter sounded like music, and as she spoke, it was as if it was one of the goddesses speaking. “Arise - Son of Eden. You do not kneel before a Queen, merely the daughter of one. If e'er you come before my father, the King, then shall you kneel thus.”


He stood up again, but hung his head in an attempt to show respect, not to mention so that he could focus on something other than her other-worldly beauty. “My Princess. I stand before you on behalf of my own Sovereign, who is in dire need of your aid ...” He then preceded to relate the King's request to her.


She listened intently, and then - after a while - responded: “The need is dire indeed, as you say. But, alas, so is the distrust that my father holds against your kind. However, I am certain that he will acquiesce to your Master's plea. I cannot act without his blessing of course, as much as I would like to. Athelas is held in high regard amongst our people, for even here it is rare, and is much sought after. But I know that the King will not willingly allow another to suffer as your Queen is now. Thus I am almost certain that he will have no objections. You must return to the Palace with me, and I will declare you as my guest. In that way the King will be unable to deny you an audience with him. Our customs forbid it.”


“Thank-you Your Highness. Your kindness is surpassed only by your beauty.” Blurted the youth. Realising what he had just declared, he stammered: “Forgive me, Your Highness. I spoke without thinking.”




She smiled, and he felt as though the whole world smiled with her. “It is no sin to speak your heart, young man. As long as what is in your heart is good. Too many words are spoken out of malice and anger that it is refreshing to hear those that are spoken kindly.” She stated. “Go now. Make ready. We depart within the hour.”


Buren bowed, and left the room. He felt as though his heart had been awakened to a new level of well-being. It was no wonder that the Princess's very name meant 'beautiful', for he thought that she was that personified. He had heard it said that, once you have laid eyes on an elf-maiden, your perception of beauty is changed forever. How much more were those words true when the said she-elf is as fair and as noble as a Princess!


Just under an hour later, Buren was on his way back to Yaderheim, this time in the Royal Coach with the Princess. As the journey progressed, both of them enjoyed each other's company, Buren perhaps more than his travelling companion. Unlike so many nobles in his own world, the Princess was not aloof, and it was not too far below her status to speak with a commoner like Buren. At times he would just allow her to talk just so that he could listen to her voice, and especially her laughter.


Just before they arrived at the entrance to the city, Buren was looking out of the coach window, lost in thought. He felt a soft hand on his knee, and Princess Freyur enquired: “Why so quiet?”


He smiled at her, replying: “Part of me believes that I am in a dream, even though I know I am awake.”


Her gentle touch brought him out of his trance, and for a moment, their eyes met. On a previous occasion like this, Buren thought that he was surely mistaken. This time it was clear, the extra sparkle in her eyes. Soon the moment was lost as they arrived at the city's gates. The guard did not even slow the carriage down. He ordered that they be allowed through, and there was a loud commotion as all the soldiers on either side of them came to attention and saluted as the coach went passed. Soon they were at the entrance to the Royal Palace.


Upon arrival, the Princess was informed that her father, the King, had been called away on urgent business, and was only expected back the following morning. Buren realised that there was nothing to be done, but to patiently await his return. Deep inside, he knew that every moment counted, but he also was aware that there were certain things that were beyond his control. Then there was that part of him that would willingly remain in the Palace for longer, so that he could spend more time in the company of the Princess.


Alorwen was tasked with giving Buren a tour of the Palace. Of particular interest to him was the stables where the King and Queen's horses were kept. While he was attending to his own Master's mounts, he considered their stables to be particularly luxurious, but when he saw the level of care given to the ones owned by King Dofri and Queen Shelerana, he realised that the stables back home were primitive by comparison.


That afternoon was one of the highlights of the tour. There was a school in the centre of the stable yard where the horses were trained and exercised. Just after midday, the stable hands brought some of the creatures out in order to train them. Buren loved horses, although he had never learned how to ride, and he was thrilled when he was invited to watch the training session. To his surprise, the riders did not use reins at all. Instead they guided their mounts purely by means of leg aids and voice commands. It was as if the horses understood their masters' directives, and reacted accordingly.


That evening he dined with the Princess. The fare was outstanding, made even more so by the company. Freyur was dressed in a dark green strapless gown. She wore the same tiara on her forehead, and a necklace to match. The gown revealed the slightest glimpse of her cleavage, as well as her shoulders and long slender neck, whereas the one she had worn at the lodge came up to just under her chin. As they ate and talked, she became aware that Buren's attention was elsewhere. When the youth realised this, at first, he would try and correct himself. But soon he noticed her reaction to his gaze. Her hand would go up to above the dress, and she would lightly caress the bare skin that was revealed, a slight smile on her face.


Once the meal was over, she invited him to sit with her in the drawing room, while her servants poured them each a glass of red wine. They drank and talked until the youth had finished his second goblet. Then something happened that he would not forget for the rest of his days. The Princess came up to him, and kissed him. The first time it was a peck on the cheek, the second lightly brushed his lips, and the third was filled with desire.


Freyur held his hand and led him to her chambers. She took his arms and guided them until they wrapped around her slender waist, all the time keeping his gaze transfixed by those liquid grey-blue eyes. Slowly their lips drew nearer, until they met. Buren held her face there with both of his hands as if he did not want the connection to be interrupted. The energy flowed through them like a current, as he loosened the buttons at the back of her dress. She unbuttoned his shirt, running her hands over his strong youthful chest and abdomen. This sent shivers throughout his whole body.


The she-elf's head went back as the youth's lips explored the under side of her chin, and then down her neck, until they reached the cleft of her collarbone. Feverishly, she removed his pants, and his youthful erection sprung out strong and strident. In a soft voice, she proclaimed: “Yes! So young. So proud.”


Her soft hands stroked its full length until Buren felt that his legs would no longer hold him. With his one hand, he caressed her breast while the other felt her shapely butt. All the while, their lips were locked in a kiss that neither of them wanted to end. Slowly they made their way to the four-poster.


Buren lowered the Princess onto her back, her legs open. Putting his hand behind her head, he held her gaze as the other traced gentle circles around her tender vulvae. As her excitement escalated, he focused his attention on the small grape that welcomed his touch. Still keeping eye contact, he could see the elf-maiden's desire begin to rise as a dreamy expression came over her pretty face. Slowly her hips began to rise and fall in harmony with his touch. Her lips parted, and she sighed and groaned as her body gave in to the waves that flooded over her.


She lay flat on her back, her legs now wide open. With his one hand still focussed on her clitoris, Buren then began to lave her honeypot with gentle strokes of his tongue. Each movement elicited a sighing groan as Freyur clenched her fists, in an attempt to keep herself from going over the edge. The youth's member was jerking and pulsing with the desire for release, but he fought back the urge, as his attention was centred upon the needs of this exquisite beauty that lay beneath him.


The she-elf held his head still, motioning for him to stop. She gently pulled him to her until his face was next to hers. Kissing him, she took hold of his now untamed manhood, and guided it into her open quim. Her eyes closed, and her head went back as she felt him enter her. As he began thrusting, he kissed her neck so that his lips felt the vibrations as she moaned in delight. He closed his eyes as his own desire mounted. Their movements became more and more intense as their passion soared. The Princess's cries became screams as her climax took her to new heights.


Buren felt as though his body was about to explode. Hurriedly he withdrew as his member jerked and leapt. His breath came out in groans and sighs as his youthfully rich semen came out of him in milky spurts. He had heard of the ecstasy of ejaculating into a woman's body, but this was the first time he had experienced it, and he was left breathless in its aftermath.


Eventually both of them were spent, and they lay on the bed that was wet with the result of their hour of passion. Sleepily, the Princess whispered: “Stay with me tonight. I awake early, before my hand-maiden arrives to attend to my room. I will wake you up in time, so that you can return to your room unnoticed.”


Her request did not meet with any resistance on the part of the youth who was almost asleep already. Freyur smiled as she gazed upon his young face. She kissed his brow, and whispered: “Ah - So young! And yet, even such youthfulness has its limits.”


She turned over so that her back was pressed against his chest. Then she took his hand in hers, and nestled it under her chin. Buren stirred, but only enough to snuggle up close to her, and bury his face in her long sweat-laden hair. With a smile on her pretty face, she fell asleep. She had only been with a male once before, but he was a lot older than her - certainly no youngster. So this experience was new and exhilarating, to be taken to the very peak of desire with one as youthful as the boy who lay asleep in her arms!


Early the following morning, as she promised, Freyur woke Buren up. He dressed himself again, and was about to leave the room, when she put her arms around him and kissed him as if trying to rekindle the fires of the previous night's encounter, the memory of which stirred the embers within him once more. As he made for his own room, he felt his cock rasp against the fabric of his pants. When he climbed back into bed, he could not sleep until he had relieved himself of the tensions that were pent up within his loins.


Later that day, the youth was told that the King had agreed to grant him an audience. He was escorted to the throne room by one of the Palace officials, and given an official introduction. Dofri looked a lot younger than Buren had expected. At the time, he still knew very little of elven longevity, and had imagined the Elven King to look somewhat like his own Sovereign. Unlike his daughter, Dofri's countenance was very austere indeed, and his manner aloof, if not more than a little cold. But he was also courteous as he listened to Buren's tale.


After some consideration, the King replied: “Although I have little more than distrust for your people, my heart will not allow my prejudice to overrule the need for compassion at this time. Therefore I shall grant your King his request. There is but one difficulty, and a temporary one at that. At present the Athelas plant is in bloom, and much of its richness has been centred on the flowers. This period is very short-lived, however, lasting only a fortnight. Thereafter the plant prepares for the new seeds, also a period of about four weeks. Then it will be at its most potent, and then it is ready for harvesting. You therefore have a choice: You can take some of it now, and bear the risk of it not being strong enough to cure your Queen. Or you can wait until it is at its fullness, and guarantee its success. If you decide to stay, because my daughter has declared you her guest, our customs demand that I offer you the full hospitality of my people. Your choice, Son of Eden?”


Buren was determined that he would take the Athelas now. But then he realised that again, the decision was beyond his control, as if it had been made for him. If he returned to King Eirik with the Kingsfoil in its present state, it may not be strong enough to cure his Queen. And who knows when the opportunity would present itself for him to return to Alfheim once more. Reluctantly he replied: “Very well, Your Majesty, I choose to stay and wait for the Athelas to grow to its full strength.”

To his surprise, the King actually managed a smile. “A wise choice, young man. I would have done the same. As I have said, seeing that you are my daughter's guest, then you are welcome to stay in the Palace until such time as you are ready to return to your world with your prize.” He stated. “Perhaps you shall do so, having learned much of our wisdom. And - in turn - enrich your own kind therewith.”


Buren rose from his knees and thanked the King. As he turned to leave, he felt that his heart was divided into two conflicting emotions: The first was a sense of worry that his return to Norway might prove too late for the Queen, and the second was that he had been given an opportunity to extend his stay, so that the relationship, that was still in its infancy, between him and Princess Freyur could further mature. He had to comfort himself with the idea that his mission stood a better chance of succeeding if he stayed.


This inner conflict meant that, on the one hand, the next six weeks went passed too slowly. He knew that time was of the essence, and that with the delay was the risk that the Queen's condition would worsen beyond the capabilities of her physicians - even with the Athelas plant - to cure her. On the other hand, the time was too short. His affection for the Princess became stronger, and they spent more and more time together. They realised that they would have to exercise caution, and that there was little chance of another encounter like on the night before her father's return. But just being together was enough to satisfy them, although not entirely. Every time they were together, and especially if the opportunity arose for them even to kiss or embrace, the fires of longing would be rekindled, more often than not, without being quenched.


Just before the long-awaited time, when Buren's mission would be completed, he and the Princess were sitting under one of the gigantic trees in the Palace gardens. As they sat there, Buren could not help but notice that she was strangely distant. Often they would be talking, and either he would realise that she was no longer listening, or she would seem to drift off somewhere else, without finishing what she was saying. After some time, he enquired as to what the matter was.


A smile came across her face, and yet there was a hint of worry in her eyes. She turned to him and said: “I have something to tell you, my dearest, and my heart is torn between joy and apprehension. But it is better that I just come out and speak. Buren, I am carrying your child!”


Her words took his breath away. He stammered: “How is that possible? I withdrew before my seed could enter your body!”


“I too have asked that question, my sweet.” She replied, “Then I recalled that, when you climaxed, your issue came out close to my maidenhead. Perhaps some of it found its way inside me.”


“It matters not how.” Resolved the youth, his face steeled with resolution, “What's done is done. But what happens now? I have only just gained your father's trust. Surely if he finds out, he will have my head for having the audacity to sleep with his daughter!”


Freyur tried to calm him down. She said: “My father is a reasonable person. If I tell him, and explain to him that I also desired for this to happen, I know he will not react in anger. And, it may be so that this is not the outcome I wanted, but what happened between us that night still warms my heart. If I am to carry your child, I would gladly do so, because I know that he or she was conceived by something beautiful. Let me speak with him first, and then we will plan from there.”





Nervously Buren agreed, and the following day, Princess Freyur told her father what had happened. The youth was summoned once more to the throne room. His brow was soaked with nervous perspiration as he entered the large room. He hung his head, not wanting to see the expression on the Elven King's stern face. He fell to his knees, still staring at the floor.


The King instructed: “Do not hide your face like a coward. You were brave enough to sleep with my daughter, now have the courage to face up to the consequence!”


Buren lifted his head, and instead of being met with a face filled with anger and wrath, he saw that the King's expression was without a hint of malice. Stern it was, but no more than any father would be if he discovered that his daughter had been made pregnant, and that the culprit was before him.


“My daughter has told me what happened between the two of you.” He continued, “And while it does not sit well with me, I cannot be unjust and put the blame entirely on your shoulders. The encounter was a result of mutual desire, and thus - if I were to judge you - I would have to also pass the same judgement upon my own child. And even then, I must concede that she is no longer a child, but a young maiden whose right it is to make such decisions for herself.”


Buren felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The King ordered him to stand up again, and his expression softened even more. The Monarch continued: “My daughter's pregnancy does raise an issue: I have a son, who would be the rightful heir to my throne. If this child is a boy, then the rule would have to go to him either after my son, or if he should die before he is able to take the throne. Now, you understand that I cannot allow one who would be considered a half-elf to reign in Alfheim. So this is my decision, and is as such beyond dispute or contest: If this child is a she-elf, then she will be brought up in the Court. If it is male, then - at the age of twelve - he will become your responsibility. We will make sure that he is brought to you, and you will raise him as your own.”


“Understood Your Majesty.” Buren replied.


“That is well. Understand that I do this because the boy would be a direct threat to the succession of my reign. I would that he remain here, and be raised as one of my own, but this would be unjust, as it should be my son's offspring, as my heir, that would take his place. It is not merely that the child is not pure elf, although that is a factor, it is that his birth will take place before that of my son's child.


Now, tomorrow before dawn, you must go to a place where the Athelas plant grows. I have arranged for you to be accompanied by one of our druids. His name is Galen. He is well versed in the herbs and plants of our land.”


“Thank-you Your Majesty.” The youth responded, “Your kindness overwhelms me.”


“I perceive that a noble heart beats within your breast, Son of Eden.” The King declared, “And that is a rare thing among the race of men. True nobility does not come to one merely because of one's bloodline. No - true nobility is an attitude of the heart. You may consider yourself a humble stable hand, but you are more steadfast than most who lay claim to such a title, but have not the mettle to live up to such a claim. You make no such boast, and yet your deeds would speak of such on your behalf.”





Buren was at a loss for words. He bowed low, turned, and left the room. There was a lump in his throat, and soon his emotions overtook him. He leant against the corridor wall, and tried to catch his breath again. That morning, he was certain would be his last. He was convinced that, if the Elven King did not kill him, he would order someone else to do so. And now, not only was his life spared, but he could continue with his mission. And if that was not enough, the King had complimented him in such a manner that he had never experienced in his life before. All he could say to himself was: “Surely, the Elves are much more than a remarkable race!”


The rest of this tale is long, and I see that the hour is late. Perhaps you can visit me again tomorrow, and we can pick up the story from there.” Lindstra suggested.


Although both Caroline and Shael were more than a little disappointed at having to leave the account at somewhat of a cliffhanger, they agreed that it was too late to continue. They bade the Storyteller a good night, and thanked him for his time. Then the two of them returned to Shael's cottage.


Caroline mentioned: “He is really a talented storyteller. In our culture, we used to have what were called 'Bards'. Before we had the ability to record our history on the printed page, the bards were the ones who assured that it was passed on from one generation to another.”


Shael responded: “For us it's more of a tradition now. Our history is preserved in massive archives housed on a central computer. These archives are available to anyone who wishes to access them. But the information has also been put onto the printed page for those like our friend Lindstra, who is a bit old-fashioned, and prefers to have hard copies.”


“How old is he?” The woman asked.


“He is one hundred and twenty years old. Our version of what you would call 'Middle-Aged', but he has been a storyteller since he was in his thirties, so he is very experienced.” Came the reply.


© Copyright 2018 Tristan Biggs. All rights reserved.

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