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“Hei amari to covair al hem atri no to regar!” Zu’thara chanted, raising the ball of sperm above the height of our heads.
A blue surge swirled around the ball of semen, then a chime sounded and a green light eminated from the orb, replacing the blue.
The she-elves stared at the orb.
“He… he is capable of impregnating matrons….” Zu’thara finally declared solemnly.
The she-elves began retying their underclothes on and redressing as they stared at the orb of semen still floating in the air.
I redressed with them.
“Sister,” Gledril breathed, “He has already recovered from his strain….”
Zu’thara looked away from the orb and her eyes widened as she saw me look confused between the two matrons.
“Audriul, I am inclined to believe him.” Zu’thara declared, “I propose we immediately return and report to the Council.”
Tavorwen remained with me as the three elders left, taking the orb of my semen with them. My stomach grumbled and Tavorwen gasped.
“By the Father, it is getting late, you must be famished!” Tavorwen declared aghast, then her own stomach grumbled.
I smirked, “I’m not the only one, apparently.”
I followed Tavorwen as she led me into the kitchen.
“So how do you keep your food cold?” I marveled.
Tavorwen looked at me confused, “Why would you keep food cold?”
I hesitated, “To preserve it? So it doesn’t go bad or get moldy?”
Tavorwen chuckled, “The cabinets are enchanted, food stored in the cabinets will never spoil. No cold needed.”
I laughed, “Do you drink your milk warm?”
Tavorwen shrugged, “Some do, most prefer it cold. Which is why the bottle is enchanted to keep the milk cold.”
I reached into the cabinet and felt the jug, it was room temperature. “How…?”
Tavorwen laughed and grabbed the bottle and retrieved a small cup, pouring me a small amount of the milk from the jug. She offered me the drink, and to my shock it was perfectly chilled. I also noted that it was whole milk, which made me glad. Skim or other reduced fat milk was weak if you asked me.
“Amazing…” I marveled.
Tavorwen giggled, “I suppose being raised with such things, you come to take them for granted. Let me prepare you a real meal. I apologize for the poor rations you have received thus far. ”
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Meanwhile, in the Council Chamber…
Audriul sat in her place of honor, only half listening to the discussion. The day had given her much to ponder.
“But how will a magic-less archer, no matter how strange his bow, help us overcome Kathra and her forces? She has us badly outnumbered, with all the weapons and armor they stole from our dead, in addition to that which they already had. Their slave beasts only grow in number and our scouts say we may still be underestimating the number of males they possess.” One of the Elder generals demanded.
“Our scouts report their males are so many in numbers they can afford to have males traveling with their war parties, attempting to breed their strongest warriors, even as they threaten our borders. I know not what dark magic they use to recover from the strain of reproduction, but it bodes ill. And we know that for the first half of a warrior’s pregnancy, they are still unimpeded on the battlefield.” Another added.
“Kathra has waited to receive another generation of warriors. This tells us her losses were not so insignificant as we initially predicted. If this male can truly fill the role of ten or more masters, he may be able to return us to our previous strength in one generation!” Zu’thara pointed out.
“But we must survive another hundred and twenty years at least to accomplish that.” Another of the generals retorted. “Each time we repel Kathra’s incursions into our woods, we suffer losses. How long can we maintain the facade of strength sufficient to keep Kathra from simply burning the forests down around us?”
Audriul sighed, “Sisters, there is but one thing we can do. The Great Father was the one who led us to attempt a summoning. We must seek his counsel on how to properly utilize that which we received. We know a power even greater than the Gods dictates the success or failure of a summoning attempt and never has a successful summon not vastly changed the course of history. The Great Father will know what to do.”
Silence settled over the agitated elven elders. They knew the wisdom of her words. They also knew the strain communing with the divine would put on her, and as the High Elder, she was the only one appointed to enter the holiest of spaces and commune directly with their gods.
Audriul continued, “I will go and consult the Great Father. Pray, save your strength until I return.”
Audriul rose from her seat. The assembled elders watched, noting how much weight she put into the staff as she walked and how much age had slowed her step. Audriul strode around her seat and approached the large tree trunk dominating the apex of the amphitheater’s arch. She put her hands on the truck and mentally gave the holy command only the ten most senior elders knew. The tree responded and seemed to swallow her hand, then her arm, then the High Elder walked straight into the tree.
You could have heard a pin drop as the elders awaited Audriul’s return. It only took five minutes for Audriul to step forth from the tree, no longer attempting to hide her exhaustion or how her age weighed her down. Both hands gripped her staff and she quickly rounded her seat and sat, breathing deeply to catch her breath. The elders hung on each breath, waiting for the word of their God to be delivered.
“The word of X’Thallion, the Great Father is thus:” Audriul finally declared, “Provide the Hero all you can, and impede not his efforts. He will lead you to prosperity and safety. Your enemies shall be as the leaves of autumn before the winter storm of his wrath. Fear not, however, for he shall never betray thee, nor lead thee astray. Have faith and see the power of thy Hero.”
A murmur of shock rippled through the assembled elves. Such strong words and assurances from their God were rare, but Audriul spoke them with confidence.
“All in favor of complying with all our summoned hero’s requests?” Audriul demanded, raising her hand.
Every hand was raised.
Audriul nodded, “Let the leaves of this holy tree bear record and witness that this vote was unanimous. Let us supply our hero’s needs that he may do as our God has declared. I hereby bring this council to a close. Go sisters and rest, there is much excitement ahead.”
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Back at my new home…
Tavorwen walked to the stove and commanded it. “Surtair”
The small opening which I had guessed would house a cooking flame obeyed, a flame filling the opening. She retrieved a pan from a nearby cabinet and began making a sort of stir-fry, mixing a few meats with vegetables and pinches of various powders I assumed were seasonings. The smell was mouth watering.
“You will have to forgive me, I am not the best of cooks.” Tavorwen apologized, retrieving what appeared to be two pieces of flatbread, before separating each piece into a pocket and filling them with the mixed meats and vegetables.
“Flugar” She ordered the stove, and the flame extinguished.
She handed me one flatbread dish and began eating the other herself. The taste was as marvelous as the smell. A blend of sweet and savory flavors with a smooth texture enriched by the fullness of the encasing flatbread. I found myself almost scarfing it down.
As a soldier I had learned to accept any kind of rations, but once I got access to good food I usually gorged myself a time or two, returning to my normal appetite. I found the dish Tavorwen had made triggered my ravenous hunger.
Tavorwen watched me eat with amazement. “Such hunger… do… Do you desire more?”
I finished chewing and swallowed, “Um… if it isn’t a problem… That was delicious. Yes, I’d like more.”NôvelDrama.Org exclusive content.
Tavorwen blushed lightly and smiled, “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I don’t consider myself particularly adept at matronly arts, like cooking, but I’m glad you liked it. Would one more be sufficient, or do you require two?”
The first stir-fry pocket had simply wetted my appetite, “Two would be wonderful.”
She returned to the stove and began cooking once more. She hummed a light, bouncy tune as she happily seared the meat and added the vegetables. I could tell she was quite pleased with herself.
“So… If I do start to get matrons… What will that be like? I don’t even know how to talk about it. Are they given to me? Do I choose them? I…” I fished awkwardly.
“How is mate selection performed on your world?” Tavorwen retorted, and I realized she was looking for common ground.
“Well,” I muttered, “Men and women meet in any of a variety of ways and if a man and a woman appeal to each other, they will begin talking and meeting for chances to date and getting to know each other. The process of dating usually takes months, if not years. You establish expectations like how many children they may want, career goals, and where they may want to live. If you find each other compatible, and you develop love for each other, you get married. While dating you exclusively court each other, and once married the partners are devoted exclusively to each other. That’s a really simplistic view, but that’s roughly how it works, or is supposed to work.”
Tavorwen retrieved the bread and filled the flatbread pockets with the mixed stir-fry. “That sounds so foreign to me. So strange. You speak of your females as ‘women’… I take it that word is not offensive where you come from?”
I shook my head, “No. Males are men and females are women. It is a title of pride for most women. What does it mean here?”
Tavorwen handed me the pockets. “It isn’t necessarily… offensive to all. ‘Women’ as we elves understand them, are females of the human race far to the southwest. They berate and abuse their males with harsh words and criticisms. They even toss aside their males like refuse if the male does not work hard enough to please them. As elves the idea of treating a male the way ‘women’ treat their males is abhorrent and terrible.”
She sat down and started running her finger in swirls over the table, “When you called me a woman, I thought you were stating that to be your expectation of our interactions. I would never be so disrespectful to a male.”