Elf Boy's Friends - III
by George Gauthier
Chapter 11
Flensborg
"Gosh Finn, am I lucky or what?", the diminutive red-headed human said to his gigantic friend who stood three feet taller. "I come here on assignment to write about how humans, elves, and dwarves have fared in New Varangia and find myself smack in the middle of the biggest news story of the year."
In the last year or so, Finn had shot up a foot to top out at eight feet even and bulked out gaining two hundred pounds, all of it bone and muscle, a fast growth spurt often associated with a manifestation of a powerful magical gift.
Of course, all Frost Giants were magical in one way. Their huge bodies, some of them nine feet tall, could hardly sustain themselves much less extend their lifespans to nearly a thousand years without magic. But for most Frost Giants, their magic was purely internal. Magical gifts like Firecasting, Fetching, and even Calling Light manifested much less frequently among the giants than among their human allies or even the dwarves, much less the elves, a magical race themselves.
"What is so lucky about being caught up in another war, Drew?"
"Bearing witness to war is exactly what a war correspondent like myself is supposed to do. I am a journalist. It is in my blood, a calling if you will. And thanks to me the Capital Intelligencer will scoop all the other papers in the Commonwealth, except the one here in Flensborg. That will please my publisher and editor no end."
"You mean your father and older brother."
"Same thing."
Drew Altair was not unaware of the dangers. Like Finn Drew was a veteran of the Second Centaur War and a number of other fights. So far he had never used his powers to kill a human or a Frost Giant, the gods forbid, but he had shown himself to be a deadly combatant thanks to his magical gift. Drew had also used his powers in rescue work saving victims of floods and earthquakes.
Fetching, as telekinesis was called on the Planet of Haven, let Drew wield steel spheres the size of peaches, whirling them around or back and forth at high speed to smash through the heads and bodies of his foes. At close quarters he could shield himself by whirling his spheres in a short arc back and forth one high one low to fend off his foes. In close quarter combat he could blind a foe by yanking the eyeballs out his head. And he could protect himself against arrows and slung bullets with his so-called Missile Shield.
It was just dumb luck that had placed Drew in Flensborg just as word arrived from weather wizards sailing with a squadron of the Commonwealth Navy that a horde of trolls at least five thousand strong were on their way. Even now the invaders were rowing up the River Calyx which flowed past Flensborg and would arrive in a matter of days.
Oddr Bjarnson, the civic leader of the Frost Giants and elected governor of New Varangia had declared a state of emergency. Harald Sigurdsen, the war chief of the Frost Giants had called up the Fyrd, their militia. Too bad he could expect only a little under fourteen hundred to assemble before the trolls arrived. The population of the giants was widely dispersed over their new homeland as the first settlers spread out in search of the very best land to put under the plow. The centaurs they had taken the country from had lived purely by the hunt.
The mounted constabulary manned by humans in the employ of the Frost Giants would not take part in the coming battle. They were a police force, not soldiers, and were dispersed in small contingents the length of the two highways the Commonwealth had constructed across New Varangia to link it with the Commonwealth proper to the east and the Flatlands of the Far West of the continent of Valentia.
But that did not mean that the Frost Giants would fight alone. They had human allies who would fire bows from horse-drawn mobile archery platforms. Moving much faster than infantry, the wagons could attack or retreat at will, firing arrows all the time from behind shields fixed along their sides. Each wagon or stagecoach carried half a dozen archers, some with longbows, others with crossbows, and all the ammunition they could need.
The idea for the archery platforms had come from Finn Ragnarson, who had been inspired by his trip a year earlier to the Far West. Though a stagecoach journey was safe enough in New Varangia, they had later ventured across the unsettled Flatlands. He and his friends Drew Altair and the famous twins Jemsen and Karel, uncannily accurate archers thanks to their gift of Unerring Direction, had readied themselves to repel bandits or rebels or anyone else who might threaten their stagecoach.
The humans who lived among the Frost Giants were glad of a chance to show their mettle and to prove their loyalty to the homeland they now shared with their friends and neighbors the Frost Giants. Many of the young males had been horse nomads on the Western Plains where the old ways of raids and tribal warfare had long been suppressed by the Commonwealth.
Too big and heavy for horses themselves, the giants had welcomed humans in their midst as grooms, handlers, and drivers of the freight wagons and stagecoaches which brought visitors and commerce to their capital city. Flensborg might just be a town right then, but the giants had big plans. Within twenty years they expected immigration from their diaspora to raise their population to half a million. Let trolls or anyone else threaten them then.
So it would be an allied army of almost fourteen hundred Frost Giants and three hundred humans against the trolls who threatened their homes. Unfortunately the more recent immigrants, the dwarves in their caverns and the elves in their enchanted vale were too few and too far from Flensborg to help, though they had been warned.
With any luck, reinforcements would arrive in time from both the Navy and the Army of the Commonwealth. A naval squadron with a contingent of naval infantry and a pair of war wizards was sailing up the River Calyx in pursuit of the trolls while the Army had dispatched a light regiment of three battalions of heavy cavalry from Plainsville, a town at the southern end of the Western Plains. That is west of the Commonwealth proper. Confusingly, the Western Plains lay east of New Varangia.
Drew himself had no intention of holding back to merely witness the impending battle. As a reserve ensign in the Army of the Commonwealth he felt himself obligated to join in the defense of Flensborg, capital of New Varangia, the second homeland of the Frost Giants. Besides, Finn Ragnarson was one of his lovers and his very close friend and sometime comrade in arms. No way he would not use his powers to protect him, just as Finn would use his immense strength, twelve foot spear and long sword to protect Drew. In close quarters Finn might even wield his war hammer, as he called it. Finn had started out as a blacksmith.
In even closer quarters the pair made love, the huge giant and the diminutive human. Finn was much bigger now in every respect. Yet Finn's bigger size and strength made him all the more masculine and attractive to a bottom boy like Drew.
Drew could still pleasure Finn orally but could take him only into his mouth -- no more deep throating. Drew would just choke. Instead Drew licked and smooched the knob of Finn's cock, prodded the slip with the tip of his tongue, sucked the glans and licked the sweet spot just behind all the while stroking the shaft with his small hands
For his part Drew loved to have Finn's huge hands touching him everywhere: ruffling the auburn locks on his head, fingering his ribs, squeezing his buns, thumbing his anal whorl and penetrating it with a questing finger that would arouse him by stroking his joy knot. Finn was also a past master at turning the boy on by tweaking and pulling the nubbins of his nipples, one of Drew's most sensitive erogenous zones.
These days the young giant did not so much mount Drew as cover him, supporting his immense weight on his limbs lest he crush his tiny human lover. Drew could still take the young giant up his quim. One of the benefits of the druidic magic that had transformed his body was greater flexibility and not just in his joints. Though there were limits.
Drew's anal pucker could stretch enough to admit Finn's horse cock and he could still take most of it up his ass. And when the giant came, he filled the insatiable boy's guts with what felt like a gallon of gism. Yet when Finn withdrew he dragged the flesh of Drew's anal ring backwards, pulling it out in an everted cone with a gaping hole in the middle. The shape reminded Finn of a volcano except this one quivered and twitched then pulsated a couple of times before collapsing into a normal crinkly whorl.
When Finn described this 'geological' phenomenon to his lover, he added that it seemed for a while that his anus might never close up.
"You would have to revert to diapers, my friend. And what a shame that would be!"
"That is not the least bit funny."
"Well, you had to have been back here to see it."
"Harrumph!"
"Sorry Drew, but you simply cannot harrumph convincingly. That is reserved for elderly curmudgeons or at least for men of middle years. You are far too young, far too small, and much too pretty to pull it off."
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