~o0o~

Quaraun’s life was nowhere near perfect.

After having run most of the past several months, he was glad to be back home.

The problem was that he couldn’t remember who he was running from or why.

He had no memory of the events of his last few weeks with the Di’Jinn and he didn’t know why.

Something horrible had happened, his mind kept telling him.

But he couldn’t remember what.

He was running from something, that much he knew.

He also knew someone was following him.

Who and why, he did not know.

Quaraun was still a few days out from the village.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him how hungry he was, as he looked up and focused on the main road, trying to determine which way was North.

The road was vacant of houses.

No buildings of any kind.

All he could see for miles were snow-covered fields and dense snow-laden pine forests.

Pine forests.

No.

That’s not right.

There are no pine trees in the tundra.

Quaraun had finally noticed the trees, but dim-witted that he was, the fact of the trees, still had not fully set in.

It had been a while since he had last seen a house and several days since the last village.

In places the snow was several feet deep, it was difficult travelling.

In his years living in the desert, he had forgotten how cold and wet snow was. His wet silks stuck to his skin making it difficult to walk. And the further north he went, the deeper the snow got.

The sun had sunk below the treeline and Quaraun knew he had to find somewhere to bed down soon, and try to find something to eat. He sat back down. He had a tent with him, in his bag of holding. A tent and bedroll. But he was just too cold to set them up.

So cold.

Why was it so cold?

It shouldn’t be this cold.

This cold is unnatural.

It’s the cold of death.

The cold of Liches.

A Lich’s frost.

No.

There were no Liches here.

It would be too cold to travel once the sun had set.

The frigid cold of the dead icy filled nights could kill any creature caught outside after dark.

And so, Quaraun sat, in the snow, thinking these thoughts, staring at his cerise pink silk shoes, muttering how wet they were, and, not noticing that he was now surrounded by hundreds of acres of ancient pine trees in the treeless tundra, while the little black pony had morphed and changed, and was now a very evil looking sorcerer sitting on the back of a massive Friesian stallion.

And from behind the trees, were appearing more and more ponies, each of them morphing into various undead creatures as The Elf Eater’s Army completely surrounded Quaraun.

As Quaraun pondered where to set up camp for the night, his thoughts were broken by a herd of horses, with Phookan and Dark Elf riders galloping past him. His long silver hair whipped around his face and shoulders along with the ice crystals and chunks of snow and Lich frost that was kicked up from the speeding hooves.

Quaraun watched the evil army of the Elf Eater as they passed. They were not long gone before he heard them stop, on come riding back.

The army was lead by a creature unlike anything Quaraun had ever seen before, simultaneously hideous yet exotically beautiful at the same time.

The beast was monstrous, every inch of it covered in long shaggy matted black fur.

On its hands were huge claws, sharp enough to lop off a man’s head in a single swipe.

Its teeth were fearsome, protruding like razors out of its mouth, and it had long gazelle-like horns on its head.

A Phooka.

Looking like Krampus.

But not Krampus.

Not here.

In spite of the cold, this was too far South to be Krampus.

Krampus rarely left his home in the deepest depths of the deepest Deep North.

The creature rode on a black stallion, with a gleaming silver horn growing from its head, but as the creature approached, the horse and the beast both melted away, leaving behind only a small dark skinned man, now looking somewhat Human, and barely five feet tall, with a massive crowing glory of wild dreadlocks.

The shape shifter had a wild grin on his face and a devilish gleam in his sparkling black eyes, as he slunk close to Quaraun, he licked the Elf’s ear.

“Ah! My saviour! We meet again!”

“Again? Have we met before.”

“I was horse wid no name who wandered desert of Di’Jinn un ya did save me. I am indebted to thee, oh pretty Elf.”

“I... I don’t understand.”

Quaraun could hardly think.

The scent of the beast’s breath, hair, and body was intoxicating.

Molasses.

Anise.

Clove.

Vanilla.

Licorice.

Horehound.

Peppermint.

Wormwood.

Gingerbread.

Cake.

Honey.

Sandalwood.

Patchouli.

Frankincense.

Myrrh.

Hashish.

Opium.

Poppies.

It was like being in a candy shop, next to a bakery, beside an opium house. Quaraun wanted to melt away in the glorious delights of the creature’s enticing fragrances.

“Ya be Quaraun, evil lil Moon Elf, murderer of de Di’Jinn.”

“I have killed no one.”

“Ah. Aye. Ya secret be safe wid me. I shall tell no one what ya has done.”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“What do you want?”

“To touch ya.”

“I don’t like being touched.”

“Not just touch ya. Feel ya. Taste ya. Bed ya. Bite ya. Drink ya blood. See what it like. Yis strange beast.”

“I’m not a beast. I’m an Elf.”

“Haha! Ya believes it, aye? Lovely. Yis perfect. Exactly what I needs.”

“Perfect for what?”

“Ya be so innocent, so sensual, so lustful, so sweet, yet so evil. Ya yin and yan meld toget’er so fabulously.”

“My what?”

“Magic ya knows not of, but ya has. Good and evil exist in ya side by side. Pure grey. Not black. Not white. Chaos. Pure chaotic evil mixed with pure chaotic good. It sends shivers down me spine. The thought of it. I can feels it. Ya be destined for great t’ings.”

The Phooka reached out and touched Quaraun’s face.

“Kill him and be done with it,” said a Dark Elf who now road up beside them.

“Back off Gibedon. Never interfere wid me work,” the Phooka growled, hissing like a wildcat. “This ones special. This ones mine. This one I keep. My lil toy, for when yis not around.”

“Gibedon?” Quaraun asked. “The Necromancer?”

“Aye, me apprentice, but de job be open for anot’er iffy ya wants it. I will gladly pass it to yis. Ye far more powerful than Gibedon will ever be. And a thousand times more beautiful. Such a lovely Elf.”

“You are King Gwallmaiic.”

“Aye. I am.” The Phooka whispered seductively while it licked Quaraun’s face. “Ya wished for me.”

“Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.”

“Aye. Here to grant ya wee lil wish. Warm ya wee lil bed.”

“Murderer of millions.”

“Ya knows who I be yet ya be no afeared of me.”

“Should I be?”

“Yis an Elf. I eat Elves. Yis should be terrified.”

“I see nothing terrifying here.”

“I like dat.”

“Why would I be scared of you? You’re nothing but a Faerie.”

“Ooooh. Got balls do we?” Gwallmaiic reached up Quaraun’s legs and squeezed his scrotum as he said this. Quaraun yelped and pulled away from the evil wizard.

Quaraun knew that he was facing the infamous black hearted King of the Faeries, himself, and were Quaraun any other Elf, he would have been trembling in fear, but Quaraun had a bad habit of being scared of things he had no reason to fear, and not fearing the things he should.

“I can rarely get dis close to ya.”

“Implying you’ve been close to me before?”

“Mony times,” the Phooka breathed as he moved close to the Elf, getting up on his toes and kissed Quaraun’s face. “And so lovely ya be. Dis do be closest I has ever been to ya. I has wanted to touch ya for so mony years. Ya has never let me get dis close before.”

“I’ve never seen you before.”

The creature slid it’s clawed fingers down Quaraun chest.

“Oh ya have. Ya just do’na knows it. I be shape shifter.”

“You’re a Phooka.”

“Aye. I be anyt’ing. Anyone. Anything yis wanting. What does da Scared Pink JellyFish want? Whatever it is I will be it.”

“You want to be, what I want?”

“Aye.”

“Why?”

“I tell ya, already. I want to be close to ya. Yar power. Yis got a power I never done seen before. I can feel it. Wid training, ya’ll be more powerful dan me. Ya does na know what ya be. But I do. I knows exactly what ya are. And I want it. I always get what I want. What do ye want?”

“Right now? Warmth and food. And a place to sleep. I’m cold and hungry. And wet and tired. I forgot how cold and wet snow is. My hair is wet and my shoes are wet.”

“Shoes?” The Phooka stepped back and looked down at Quaraun’s feet. “Eh? Not quite dressed for de weather is we? Silly lil Elf. Yis worried about shoes. Eh? Take dem off and slide into bed wid me.”

“Bed?”

Quaraun gasped when he felt Gwallmaiic forcefully shove his hand inside of Quaraun’s kimono and wrap his sharp clawed fingers around Quaraun’s flaccid cock.

“Yis always welcome in me bed. I will keep ya bonny arse warm. I has lots o way to warm up a pretty lil t’ing like ye.”

“You’re a male. As am I.”

“Does that matter? I can become female if you like? I can be anyone. Male or female. Whatever ya want. That I will be.”

“Why?”

“I already answered that.”

“But I don’t understand your answer.”

“No? I lust for ya. As much as ya lust for me.” The Phooka was so close to Quaraun now, their bodies were touching. The warmth of the Phooka’s body felt good. The air was so cold, and his body s warm. “And ya lust for me quite a lot. Unlike anyone else ever has.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Aye ya does. I has heard ya words. Ya wishes. Wishes in the desert. Wishes for the warm embrace of King Gwallmaiic.”

The Phooka pushed Quaraun back against a tree, pressed tight against him, and kissed him. Quaraun made no move to resit, though, he was uncertain why. The Phooka pulled away from him and stared into the Elf’s clear cornflower blue eyes.

“And yar lust for me now. That why I be here.”

“I don’t.”

“Ya does. Ya just scared to admit it. My lust has burned for you for 2,000 years.”

“I’m not that old.”

“The skin ya wear, no, the Elf not that old. But the Thullid inside, is ancient. I has waited so long to meet ya. I try so often to reach you. Touch you. Kiss you. Love you. Fuck you like a whore.”

“I don’t know you.”

“No. But I want to change that. Make ya me lover.”

“You are a stranger. Why would I be your lover?”

“Have ya a reason why ya would not be?”

“The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley eats Elves and I’m an Elf.”

“Well, there is that.”

“How would I know, your offer is nothing more than a trap, to kill me and eat me?”

“Because I does no want to eats ya. I wants to fuck ya.”

“That’s not something I want.”

“Are ya sure?”

“Yes.”

“Who do yis wants fucking ya than? I will be dem instead. I will be any. Who ever ye want. That I will be. Whatever it take to get in ya bed. But I t’inking, this one does it for ya. Ya never let me get dis close before.”

“Have you been many?”

“I be mony. I try for years to get close to ya, but ya be skittish un run away, every time.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“If I were gonna kills ya, I would already has done it.”

Quaraun did not know why, but he felt no threat from the creature and so made no move to get away, as the little Faerie pressed its warm body close against him.

Though Quaraun was a very short Elf, the Faerie was even shorter than he was and stood on the Elf’s feet, then rose up on his toes to be eye level with the Elf.

The Phooka was pushing his hard erection between the Elf’s legs and it was arousing Quaraun, much more than he wanted to admit. Quaraun’s eyes glazed with lust. His mind wandered, wanting to touch Gwallmaiic just as badly as Gwallmaiic wanted to touch him and his cock was already pressing against his thin silks.

Gwallmaiic’s hands gently slid down Quaraun’s belly, gliding along his hips before squeezing and fondling one of his ass cheeks.

Quaraun gasped. Cold air snagged in Quaraun’s throat. He could not believe his good fortune, being groped by the very object of his darkest desires. Gwallmaiic continued to fondle Quaraun and Quaraun continued to do nothing and just let this happen.

Quaraun closed his eyes and let the Phooka kiss his neck, while pressed his hips harder again Quaraun. His hand still gripping him, Gwallmaiic begin to stroke Quaraun’s cock up and down along the shaft at a steady pace while his other hand went back to squeezing and massaging Quaraun’s ass cheeks but this time from the inside Quaraun’s dress, which at some point Gwallmaiic had lifted up without Quaraun noticing he’d done it.

“This is...”

“Shh... sweet lil Elf, let me take care of ya.”

Gingerly, Quaraun put his hands on the Phooka’s chest and pushed him back a few inches.

“Please don’t do that.”

“Why not? Ya likes it.”

Quaraun did like it and he completely wanted to ignore that fact.

He couldn’t let himself enjoy Gwallmaiic’s touch, because he also knew the stories.

The Rumours.

King Gwallmaiic had a reputation for seducing Elves, then raping them to death, eating their flesh, drinking their blood, and grinding their bones into flour to make drugged gingerbread. All the stories said so. It was why he was called The Elf Eater.

“How do you know me?”

“I has hunted ya for years. Could ne’er catch ya. Then one dae I were wounded un ya saved me life.”

“I do not remember that.”

“And I will never forget it. Nor will I forget how ya saved what were left o me army.”

“Your army?” Quaraun looked around at the motley crew of various evil undead.

Dark Fae.

Dark Elves.

Blood Elves.

Beasts.

Monsters.

And undead creatures.

Were gathering to watch what their leader would do to the young Moon Elf. “I have never seen your army before.”

“Ya did. In de desert of de Di’Jinn. Ya saw us. Ya fed us. And de Di’Jinn unleashed deir terror upon us, ya unleashed ya terror upon dem. We be indebted to ya. We’d all be dead now, were not for ya. Our hero. Our saviour. The Scared Pink JellyFish. Our Goddess. We worship her, so we worship you.”

The Phooka bowed before Quaraun, then stood and clutched his talons around the Elf’s throat.

“I don’t know what your talking about.”

“Ya’s an Elf after me own ‘eart. Some dae ya will remember what ya did un when ya does, I’ll be waiting for ya. Come Gibedon, we leave.”

The Phooka let go of Quaraun and walked back to his horse.

The mesmerizingly beautiful black haired, black eyed Phookan leader turned and whistled at Quaraun, then grasped his privates in a lewd gesture.

“Ya’re a pretty one,” the Scottish hell beast said to Quaraun. “I woulds love to fuck ya wee lil bahookie.”

Quaraun swore at him in Thullid, with a disgusted grimace, which made the Phookan leader laugh. He blew Quaraun a kiss as they road away, and Quaraun hoped he’d never see them again.

No.

That wasn’t right.

Quaraun desperately wanted to see him again.

King Gwallmaiic.

Quaraun had lusted after King Gwallmaiic for years.

A deep dark secret, that Quaraun kept hidden away. He knew if anyone found out, he’d be cast out of Elven society.

So much was wrong with Quaraun’s lust for King Gwallmaiic.

They were both male for starters.

Plus Gwallmaiic wasn’t an Elf.

And then there was the fact that King Gwallmaiic was evil. Plain and simple. A murderous, blood-thirsty villain.

Quaraun shivered.

The Phooka had been correct. Quaraun had wished many times to meet the evil Dark Lord, King Gwallmaiic, Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.

For years.

Decades.

Quaraun had longed to meet him.

And now that he had, Quaraun’s raging desires for the evil Faerie King were stronger than ever before.

Quaraun hated Faeries.

Yes. He did. He told himself this over and over again, while wishing silently for the Phooka to return. Silently wishing to bed with the Phooka.

No.

Quaraun knew he must put such thoughts out of his head.

No good ever came from associating with Faeries.

Especially not Phookas.

The worst Faeries of all.

And this was no mere Phooka.

This was King Gwallmaiic.

The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.

Quaraun veered off the main road, into the forest to try to find a spot to set up his tent for the night. Quaraun wondered at seeing Phookas this far North.

Phookas were southern beasts, normally inhabiting tropical cloud forests, jungles, and rain forests. Warm tropics were their home lands, not these frigid high altitude arctic mountain ranges.

Quaraun also wondered at seeing trees this far North.

There were no trees in the tundra, and yet, here they were. Acres and acres and acres of huge, massive trees.

Quaraun lay down on his bedroll and fell asleep thinking about trees and polar bears and Phookas and Gwallmaiic and gingerbread scented dreadlocks.

He drifted off into sleep dreaming about King Gwallmaiic and wishing he’d let the Phooka finish what he’d started.

~o0o~