Elven Dream

    The night winds swirl across the sandy land as the nomadic caravan, if one can be so polite to call this small band of entertainers, prostitutes and thieves by such a term, travels in the direction of twinkling lights that shouldn't be where they are. An overweight man with a mustache so black you would think he washed it in oil leads a thin man so thin one wouldn’t be surprised to see the wind pick him up and blow him to a distant land, and third their sister the strangely gorgeous; compared to her familial company, dancer covered in garments to cover he erotic costume, smooth skin, and long swirling hair from the prying eyes of their companions who reside in the carts behind them. They are they face the clients see, the rats in the dark of the carts the thieves and unclean prostitutes sold off for a night’s company to the men and sometimes women of the camps and towns they meet along the way whose loins are coaxed into actions beyond the brain’s control by the dancing of the untouchable sister.

 

    They have moved across this sandy land many times, guided by the stars and perhaps by a memory of their own foot falls and the lone silent markers that are the great stones standing awkwardly amongst the shifting dunes as though left by some unknown clumsy giants ages ago when myths were reality. Below near the oasis they have frequented so often a strange group of white tents have been assembled, the guards are women whose armor doesn’t quite cover all, the rats in the carts snicker to themselves at the sight, but no better than to make their presence known as they hide behind their dark curtains waiting for the trio in charge to make contact so they can bring the carts in, put on a show, and size up their prospective clients/victims.

 

    The fat-man, the skinny man, and the babe in coverings ride down to the camp with the carts in plain view, given the actions of the camp they are far from being a surprise; despite what things may look like from the higher ground up close this is clearly an important group with well trained guards and soldiers. Someone important must be in the big tent. What’s more before he can realize their mistake he has ridden into the camp, up close he can see clearly what these people are and why they would wear such revealing un-armor like armor; this is a camp filled with female elf warriors.

 

    The guards at the big tent are dark elves, while most the rest of the guards are light elves, something unheard of in any folk tales or myths the fat-man is familiar with, not that it matters, they are here now, clients are clients, and if the tales are true elves are richer than any king of man and in caravan to have both light and dark must have a truly important and therefore wealthy individual. A shame though the guards have warned him to leave, they knew they were coming and had hoped they would not come closer. The way they make it sound the person inside the big tent is some kind of terrible demon than a respected royalty.

 

   The fat-man had heard elves enjoy music and dance, and offers his sister’s services to entice them this evening, perhaps to dance for what ever king lies with in the big tent. A priestess comes from a smaller tent adjacent the big tent and speaks with them; she warns them this is no elven king with in, they are not some caravan they can seduce and rob, they must be on their way least their noise awaken the great one and provoke her.

 

   Before anymore can be said or thought a great demanding voice comes from the big tent, the great one, this queen whom is respected and feared demands they be brought inside, she would see how entertaining they can be.

 

   As they go past the guards shake their heads and the priestess whispers to the fat man that he had better hope they are the best of the best and do not insult the queen, for while her grace is the greatest it is matched by her wrath at any insult they may make with their human sensibilities and conniving ways.

 

    Inside the big tent, half the tent is a floor too fine to be inside a tent meant only to stand for one night and come down the next day, the other half is divided away by a great semi-clear screen; but looks to be a giant bed covered in sheets and pillows. A single figure can be made out to be sitting up, her silken garments with their flowing sleeves seem to be connected to the sheets of the great bed; but with the screen it can not be seen for certain. This figure is clearly female with her ample breasts and long flowing hair, whose strange un-naturally blueness is the only thing that can be seen clearly for standing out against all the white in the tent. Her face despite the screen is covered by a veil, which can only be seen briefly as she talks while she keeps an arm raised, her sleeve helping to obscure any view of her.

 

 

   One is given the impression of standing before some secret not meant to be seen, even though they are dirty, even though they are unclean in mind as well, they are compelled to bow before her and request to entertain her. The sister takes off her robes, revealing her youthful and supple body, her more not there than there with clear satin violet cloth where sleeves and pants would be connected by gold trim to her red barely a costume. The great

queen beyond the veils leans forward in clear interests.

 

    With a sparkle in their eyes, after all what other kind of queen would only keep female guards, at least that is how their minds view the situation, the two brothers pull out their instruments and play, a flute and a tiny drum barely fit to be a child’s toy. She dances better than she ever has before, her curving, her touching, her gazes and stances, greater than any man has received before.

 

    When it is all said and done the great queen speaks, the brothers are sent away to receive payment, payment in gold and a bath in a private tent. Which they do not know at that moment is meant for cleaning their horses; the sister however is sent to a better bath, a giant bath to be bathed by magic cloths and dressed in a finer costume than she ever dreamed hope for in all her days.

 

    As she is walked back to the big tent of the silk hidden queen she does not know her brothers have been shown to a dinner room and given elven wine to drink, which even but a single drop is enough to drop a full grown and mighty man into a sleep that will last no less than three days. The thieves and unclean in body and mind women of the caravan have succumb to a mysterious miasma unleashed by the camp, placing them into a deep sleep as well.

 

   The sister re-enters the tent, now clean in body as she truly is in heart and soul despite the many unwanted circumstances that have lead her to this life she now lives. The queen urges her to walk behind the curtain, and to sleep here tonight. The dancer is filled with many a fearful thought to her future prospects, this part is normally filled out by the girls who speak so ill will of her to hide amongst the men who no doubt treat them no better than their victims do. But this woman has no aura of fear; when she shows her face her eyes and her smile bring only warmth to the dancer’s heart.

 

 

   She is urged on and obliges, the bed is so soft, and the silk even finer than silk yet feels so much stronger, however she finds a surprise as they are not alone in this bed. A woman lies on either side of the great queen who was thought to be alone; a light elf woman with hair a yellow as sunlight and complexion like fallen snow with far eastern exotic features seldom seen by the dancer, on the other side a dark elf woman with silvery grey skin and hair as white as snow whose features remind her of the merchants from the far north who trade for salt in the port towns. They are awake and smile at the dancer, with out a word to her, they both lean in from their lying positions, the great queen’s hands upon the back of their heads as they suckle from her breast, drinking without spilling a drop the milk of the great elf queen; yet she is not pregnant, nor are these babes, they are fully grown and fully developed women of opposite sides of the balance between light and dark, at least that is how she has heard the stories go.

 

    The great queen urges her forward, as though, quite possibly so, by magic the dancer is compelled and climbs over her to kiss her full on the lips, an electric sensation that shivers her spins, somehow through the kiss the great queen smiles, opens her impossibly blue eyes and looks the dancer deep in her own brown eyes, her brown eyes become violet as their tongues begin to dance; the dancer even feels a tingle as the tips of her ears begin to thin and elongate.

 

    The sun shines down upon the faces of the brothers; the grunting of camels brings them fully awake. They sit up by the oasis, now vacant in the sun light no one else is around, but their cloths are now those of respected merchants not traveling conmen and thieves, the four camels with them covered in sacks filled with silver, gold, and assorted trinkets ready to be sold by such respectable looking merchants at any port town they could never enter before appearing as they were. However their sister is gone, so too the caravan, their only clue being a note left for them amongst the trinkets that reads this is payment in full for the new bride they delivered for the great queen; they raised her well from the tiny babe their parents found abandoned, but were themselves killed off by bandits leaving her to the brothers to protect and raise as best they could; all things even some great elf queen should not know.

 

   The thieves and the prostitutes of the caravan have like wise found themselves in strange garments and alone, some as maids in a barn to some castle in a wooded land, some in huts with other workers in more familiar surroundings, while a few find themselves in studio apartments in noisy bustling cities completely alien to anything they had ever even dream or heard of in their life times; all have been left with notes on how to live and what to do with local currency; some have even found their tongues now speak another language, many they had never heard before.

 

    Elsewhere the great queen sits in her bed, the light elf by one side, the dark elf by another and the dancer now with violet eyes and the pointed ears of the elves across her legs like some great exotic cat.

 

    The great queen speaks as she strokes the dancer’s hair and looks upon all three, “Sheena of the Light elves, Shala of the dark elves, and now Shira of the Majini, the hidden queens reborn in human skins, one more and we shall return, one more is all.”