The Northern Wars
The Starcrossed Night
FAEN, AEN
Autumn, 1E72
There was a light mist in the air as cool autumn rain sprinkled down on the elvish town of Faen. The sun was setting beyond the Aryan Forest that comprised their nation of Aenor, sinking on the horizon of the Aerbonean Ocean off the coast of Legion some hundreds of leagues away to the west. Sendarin guided his boat back to shore as the evening closed in upon him. He would tie it off at one of the posts that served as the town's makeshift dock so that the tide didn't carry it out to sea, rowing his ways towards the elvish longboats that lined Faen's shore. He breathed a sigh of relief as he reached the beach and took his boat to rest with its fellows after a long and peaceful day of fishing.
There was a light mist in the air as cool autumn rain sprinkled down on the elvish town of Faen. The sun was setting beyond the Aryan Forest that comprised their nation of Aenor, sinking on the horizon of the Aerbonean Ocean off the coast of Legion some hundreds of leagues away to the west. Sendarin guided his boat back to shore as the evening closed in upon him. He would tie it off at one of the posts that served as the town's makeshift dock so that the tide didn't carry it out to sea, rowing his ways towards the elvish longboats that lined Faen's shore. He breathed a sigh of relief as he reached the beach and took his boat to rest with its fellows after a long and peaceful day of fishing.
He'd made quite a fair haul for the day, having caught fourteen decently-sized cod and salmon off the coast where he rowed his way out into the North Sea. Sendarin was no different than the average Aenorean elf; he had long, flowing blonde hair with grey eyes and pale, shimmering white skin. His face was naturally smooth and he was slender, but taller than the men of Aerbon- standing roughly two metres tall. The rainfall preceded what looked to be the onset of a heavy storm as dark clouds drifted towards the Aenorean coast, and Sendarin gathered his day's catch along with his fishing gear as he made ready to leave.
Looking up at the sky as he slung his haul over his shoulder, he stared at the storm clouds as they brewed behind the lands across the sea on the eastern horizon. The distant shore was a mysterious and ominous sight to the elves of Aenor, though they dared not traverse the frigid waters of the North Sea towards those lands, shrouded in the perturbing fog where they slumbered menacingly on the horizon. Indeed, few dared to sail far out from the coast at all, and tales of drownings were not uncommon amongst those who did. Sendarin was fairly cautious; not travelling any further out than the average fisherman, though allowing himself to drift far enough from the shore to bring in a decent haul. As it was, he had seen the storm brewing and decided that it was best to make for land even as the first sprinkles of rainfall began to shower down.
"That's a nice catch you've got there!" one of his fellows laughed as Sendarin made his way from the docks. The fellow fisherman was still finishing up with gathering his things, having just tied off his own boat at the shore.
"You don't seem to have done too bad yourself! Soon enough we'll have fresh herbs from the Ahglorians to better celebrate our days!" Sendarin responded, sharing in the merriment.
Several more of the fishing boats drew in towards the shore as the men took their respective loads and departed for their homes. When it was possible, the Aenorean elves preferred to eat fresh fish, along with a diet of fruits, vegetables, beans, eggs, nuts, and oats- as well as bacon, poultry, venison, and other types of meat and game imported from the neighbouring Kingdom of Legion and the pagan lands of Ahglor. The elves of Aenor also dried the fish they caught and salted it or pickled them in brine to store them longer-term through the cold winter season.
Unlike the warm currents of the Aerbonean Ocean along the imperial wine coast, the frigid currents of the North Sea brought with them cooler temperatures and more mild and diverse seasons to the elves of Aenor, as opposed to the year-round fair-weather experienced in the Kingdom of Legion. So it was that although Faen was further south- parallel to Veinos and Mardé- the elvish port experienced pleasantly imperial Spring and Summer seasons whilst enduring harsher Ahglorian Autumns and Winters. Sendarin braced himself against the waves of light rain that pelted him along with the winds that assailed him on his trek home, carrying all of the fish he had managed to catch in a sling over his shoulder as he made the walk.
Passing under the protection of the Groot trees and their towering boughs, Sendarin trekked through the elvish town where he'd spent the entirety of his life, making his way home to his beautiful wife and son. The sun disappeared behind the infinite vastness of the Aerbonean Ocean as the rain gradually grew in intensity whilst he traversed the woodlands on his serene walk. The elf sighed contentedly, having finally reached the place that he called home even as the first crack of thunder sounded. Lightning and thunder marked his arrival, alongside a sudden downpour of heavy rain. He set the fish to hang before entering the tent that he and his wife shared, greeting her upon his entry where she slept. Their elfling son slept in his own tent in a cot, not far from their own. Creeping upon his wife, Sendarin slipped under the covers of their improvised bed upon the grassy earth, nestling up against his wife as he wrapped his arms lovingly around her.
"How was your day whilst I was away? I missed you." Sendarin murmured as he kissed his wife's neck and shoulders, his hands roaming down her body as they caressed her silhouette, reunited after a long day apart.
Isalé let out a soft chuckle as she rolled over to face her husband, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pressed her body against his. She kissed the tip of his nose before moving up to kiss his forehead, followed by his cheeks and eyes, ears, neck, and mouth- laughing as she did so. Sendarin gasped involuntarily as he felt the warmth of his wife's body pressed lightly against him, her breasts gently rubbing against his chest as she pushed him down onto his back before mounting him. Sendarin's heart fluttered and he felt light with excitement as she made his heart race beneath her; Isalé returned her husband's tender caress as she set to work upon unbuttoning his shirt to expose the bare chest it contained, kissing every inch of his body as her fingers worked their way lower. Sendarin reached beneath his wife's dress to feel the warmth of her silky smooth skin upon his fingers, groping for her breasts as she let loose a moan.
Feeling her husband's cock throbbing against her in lustful arousal, she reached into his pants, gently stroking the shaft as she lightly kissed Sendarin on his lips. Inserting his fingers into her as he felt the wetness dripping down them, Isalé moaned her lover's name as he smirked, biting her ear in loving playfulness before whispering into it; "This night will be the most memorable of our lives." Hearing his words, she took his shaft into the loving embrace of her hands as she put it into her warm insides, riding him in waves like the ocean crashing upon the shore.
She steadily increased in speed and forcefulness as the night drew on, grinding him into the earth itself as she pushed him as deep as she could whilst he wrapped his arms around her waist, thrusting with all of his might as she rode him. Digging her fingers into him as her legs tightened around him, Isalé felt her legs shaking as her whole body spasmed in orgasmic climax and she felt her husband's warm fluids shoot up her insides as he came with her, groaning as she collapsed on top of him. Taking advantage of the moment, Sendarin grabbed her by the waist and rolled her over to take his turn dominating her from above.
"You really want to give Siguil a sibling, don't you dear?" Isalé teased as she moaned beneath her husband.
He laughed even as he set to himself to work, yanking her legs back as he pushed himself deep inside her with a loving kiss as his response. He wrapped one arm around her, tightly holding her by the back whilst the other gripped her round ass, ceaselessly pounding her raw as he delivered long, hard thrusts without breaking the pace. Her breasts jiggled teasingly, popping out from the dress that contained them whilst she quivered beneath him, crying out as he drove her to the point of climax for a second time. Though she felt herself losing control as the feelings washed over her, it almost seemed like a single eternal orgasm that took them beyond the constraints of time and space. The physical world around them had ceased to exist as the pair found themselves interlocked in that moment, and they made love until sleep overtook them, even dreaming of it to the point that they couldn't remember that anything outside of their love had ever existed at all...
"Siguil!" Sendarin called out his son's name after sharply awakening from his slumber to what he assumed to be a thunderous clap in the night, hearing his son cry out as a dark blur streaked off from where he slept into the depths of the night. The shadowy streak vanished into the night, covered by the torrential downpour of rain that blanketed the sleepy fishing town in that early hour of the morning prior to the dawn's first light.
"Isalé, awaken! I fear for the worst!" the elf cried out his wife's name even as he turned to pursue whatever it was that he had seen, drawing an elvish dagger as he charged off into the night. Waking just in time to witness her husband rushing out of the tent that they shared into the night that enveloped the sleeping fishing town, Isalé followed after him, racing without thought into the storm outside- only to spot her husband fleeing their home as he disappeared behind the thick veil of rain that assailed them from all sides.
"Sendarin!" she cried out before turning towards the tent where their son slept soundly, or so she thought prior to stumbling upon the empty cot where he would have been. Claw marks mauled the surface of the elfling child's bed and the fabric of his blankets was ripped and torn, dotted with specks of fresh blood. Anguish and terror seized her heart, though she was unaware and oblivious to whatever it was that had transpired while she rested. Turning from the empty cot, Isalé charged off into the stormy night in pursuit of her husband; though he had the advantage of a short head-start that was enough to have lost her, his path headed in the direction of the docks upon the shore and so she followed after him in that direction.
Thunder cracked and boomed every so often as the heavy rains pelted the leafy boughs above, for though the Groot Trees were known for annually shedding their bark where the Aenorean elves used it in absinthe production, the leaves blossomed year-round without shedding whatsoever. An agonising shriek suddenly pierced the raging storm that assailed the quaint elvish town of Faen on that dark and stormy night and Isalé felt the hopelessness of it all chasing after her. Even as the shriek pierced her heart, freezing her in place as sheer terror took hold of her, it was echoed several times, seemingly from every direction all around her.
"Sendarin!" Isalé cried out desperately to no avail. She had sunk to her knees even as she'd reached the docks along the Aenorean coast, only to find herself all alone- drenched in the heavy downpour.
"Sendarin! Siguil!" Isalé cried out to the heavens as hope drained from her, and she heard a commotion rising up behind her, coming from the village as the sleeping townsfolk started to awaken to her pleas, though her husband could not hear her.
Waiting helplessly where she sat lost and alone as neither responded to her cries, she felt the despair envelope her as the rains left her soaked in her hopelessness. Although Isalé found herself in the midst of a cold and dreary Autumn night, it was not the weather or the temperature that caused her to shake and shiver there where she sobbed on the beach. Some of the townsfolk of Faen had begun to gather around her even as she openly sobbed at the immense and overwhelming feeling of loss that had taken hold of her. She was sure that her son and husband were gone forever and the reality of it all was beginning to sink in as her elvish kin responded to all the commotion that had just transpired.
"Isalé! What is the meaning of all this commotion? Where is Sendarin and what has passed?" one of the neighbours exclaimed as he rushed towards her before turning to one of his fellows, "Quick, fetch the Elder!"
"Where is Siguil! Is he missing as well?" another neighbour's wife called out as they began to convene on the shore, "I woke to screams and our child is nowhere to found!"
"I heard the cries in the night and came as quickly as I could, but alas- we've come too late, or so it would seem. In the meantime however, we must find Sendarin- he can't have disappeared and he's more than capable of handling himself. If anyone has any news of what transpired, he would be the one to know." one of the other elves spoke up from the gathered crowd to unanimous murmurs of agreement...
About the Creator
Kelson Hayes
Kelson Hayes is a British-American author and philosopher, born on 19 October 1994 in Bedford, England. His books include Can You Hear The Awful Singing, The Art of Not Thinking, and The Aerbon Series.
Comments (1)
OH! I didnt expect this. My eyes, my innocence. LOL But this is very well written! I love it.