The Happy Few

To purge ourselves of boredome one day, a friend and I came up with this story and I put it into words.

The Happy Few

The ground was an uneven floor of twisted tree roots and foot-catching bramble. With each step he took, his black boots caught in the gnarly roots, almost bringing him to his knees and halting his escape. He was certain he would escape, roots or no, but in his haste and preoccupation with the trees, he paid no heed to the rocks jutting out from the earth. Just as he was reaching the stretch of land where he had left his small boat, the tip of his boot caught a rock and sent him sprawling.

Kir lied in the dirt for a moment, stunned by the impact his body had made with the ground. His chest hurt and his breath wheezed when he sucked in a gulp of air. He had just found the strength to push himself into a sitting position when a large, firm hand gripped his shoulder from behind. He cursed and twisted, attempting to break free and scramble away, but more hands reached for him. He had been sure he had lost his trackers, was sure his black clothing had kept him well hidden in the dense forest, but he had been wrong.

And thus he was brought to the city’s prison. It was a not as small a building as one would think when first seeing it. The outside was square, no bigger than the houses that dotted the forest line before one came to the center of the city, which boasted larger buildings and homes. When the trio of elves that had captured him guided him through the doorway and into the prison, he did not think there could have been more than five cells and surely there would be no room for him in there. But he was wrong again. After exchanging words with the prison master, one of the elves gave him a shove forward.

He looked back over his shoulder and glared. “You don’t gotta shove me, you know.”

The elf did not respond, merely continued pushing him towards the back of the building and towards what he saw was a set of narrow, curling stairs.

“Why we goin’ down there?”

Another shove almost sent the human tumbling, but he was able to catch himself before his head smashed into the stone wall. He shouted an insult, but his guardian seemed as cold and unforgiving as the wall he had almost crashed into. When he saw that the man was not paying an attention to his complaints, the human faced forward and marched down the steps.

When he got to the bottom of the staircase, Kir looked around. There seemed to be a whole labyrinth of corridors lined with cells that had been cut out of the earth and stone. It was an impressive structure and with the only one exit from the dank underground being guarded by a sword-wielding elf, it was very effective in making sure no one could escape. He would need to be creative in his method of flight.

The elf guided him to a cell at the end of the hall directly across from the stairwell. Another shove and Kir was in the cell, the iron barred door slammed and locked behind him. He watched the elf pocket the key to the lock and then walk away. Once he was sure he was alone, the human let out a sigh of aggravation and walked to the bars, testing them. They were solid; thick and welded firmly in place so there was no hope of jostling one bar loose and slipping from the cell. There was no window to wrestle through either; he would have to pick the cell’s lock or trick one of the guards into freeing him. The first plan would prove impossible; the elves were smarter than they looked. As soon as they had grabbed him, they had divested him of all his gear, including the tiny lock pick that he kept in his back pocket. Kir felt a wave of frustration wash over him at the fact that he had been frisked. With the lock-picking plan as good as trampled, he had to wait for a guard to come by so he could use his charm to persuade the person to release him.

Kir sat down on the dirt floor in the middle of the cell. He watched the outside hall intently, waiting to hear the sound of footfall. As he waited, he rehearsed in his head what he would say to the guard.

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The sound of metal dragging on stone brought Kir back to his senses. He shook his head to clear the haze that hung over his mind then blinked his bleary green eyes. It was embarrassing to find that he had fallen asleep so easily after being captured and thrown into a prison cell. No one had told him what to expect as punishment and he wasn’t entirely certain that elves didn’t practice execution.

The human got to his feet quickly, knees buckling a bit at the sudden movement. He arched his back to stretch the muscles and then walked up to the cell door and peered out. Down the hall, illuminated by the light from the small torches in the hallway, he could see a figure approaching, dragging what appeared to be a chair. Kir cocked his head to the side, curious, and watched as the slumped-shoulder guard approached his cell and placed the chair in front of the barred door. The elf looked at him for a moment, assessing him, then plopped down into the chair and sighed.

The guard didn’t seem particularly intimidating in Kir’s opinion. Although the elf was tall—he would have towered over the human when standing upright—and his large frame hinted at muscles, his face was distinctly placid, if not empty. If Kir didn’t know any better, he would have said that the guard was bored, with his eyes half-lidded and mouth pulled down in a soft frown. He doubted that the elf was even seeing him when he looked into the cell. A devious grin lit up Kir’s face; this impassive guard would be his ticket out of the prison.

It was late and he knew that the prison and city streets were deserted; once he got out of the cell, escaping to the shore would be simple. The human sat down on the ground again, looking his guardian over carefully. He foresaw no problem sweet talking the elf into releasing him. If the man’s expression was any indication, he didn’t particularly care for his task or care what happened. Gaining the elf’s trust enough to talk him into releasing him would be a challenge though and he knew he had to proceed carefully and with tact.

“Who are you?” Kir asked.

The elf made a soft noise. “The guard.”

Kir watched the elf shift ever so slightly, slouching into a more comfortable position. He stared at the passive face.

“Do you ever blink?”

“Occasionally.”

“You look bored.”

“Hn.”

A silence fell between them. Kir pursed his lips. “My family must be missing me. What are the chances of me getting out of here soon?”

“Slim to none.”

“But—my family!” He protested.

The elf stared back at him, golden eyes vacant and unconcerned.

“Come on, you can let me out. I have ta get back to my family. I have sick kids ya know. There’s no reason to keep me locked up here.”

“You’re a thief. That’s plenty of reason to lock you up.”

Kir put on his best innocent face and wrapped his fingers around the cell bars. “Why exactly am I being kept here? What did I do wrong?” He kept his voice even and soft, adding a pleading tone, which he hoped would strike a chord of pity in his guardian.

His plan backfired and the elf replied just as evenly, “Because you’re an idiot.”

At that point, all semblances of calm and control Kir had disappeared.

“Hey! There’s no need to be a jerk! I didn’t do no harm!”

“You just slaughtered the King’s Language’s grammar; add that on top of the theft charge and you deserve to rot in that cell for the rest of your short human life.”

“I didn’t even steal anythin’! You caught me before I could get away! So, technically I didn’t do nothin’!”

“Just shut up!” The guard roared, eyes sparking with anger. If the way he clutched his delicately pointed ears were any indication, he seemed to be in pain from hearing the uncouth way the young thief had spoken.

Kir grumbled angrily and turned his back to the cell door. He folded his arms over his chest, seething that his plan to become friendly with the guard had not worked and wondering how he ought to proceed. When a considerable amount of time had passed, he glanced over his shoulder and saw that the elf was slouched again, face vacant once more.

“So, do you have a name, mister elf?”

The guard sighed, as if just listening to the human was a great burden. “Ari.”

“Ari? What kind of an elf name is that? Aren’t you supposed to be named after animals and stuff?”

Ari twitched, his leg jerking in a spasm of annoyance. “You humans are all ignorant of the lives we elves live. Now shut up please.”

“I’m Kir.” The human offered, ignoring the guard’s plea.

The elf shook his head, but did not respond. Kir tried several more times to lure the elf into conversation, hoping they might stick an accord, but Ari proved as companionable and talkative as the stone walls of his cell. He watched the elf for much of the night, thinking that if he could only make the man more agreeable towards him, it would be easy to trick Ari into allowing him to escape. That proved to be a difficult task though when Ari showed no signs of even hearing the questions that the human asked. It was just possible, Kir thought, that the elf was much wilier than he had first thought.

One glance at the elf’s slack face destroyed that idea and Kir crawled onto the cot in the cell, laughing to himself at the thought that that bored looking elf might be a formidable opponent for his stealth and cunning.

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The rattling of the cell door and the clanking of keys woke Kir early the next morning. Though he could not tell what time it was, for there was no window with which he could look out and judge by the height of the sun in the sky, he knew he had not been long asleep when they roused him. The guard, Ari, stood at attention as one elf unlocked the cell door and another stood, giving the guard directions. The elf that had unlocked the door entered and dragged the human into the hallway.

He looked at Ari. “What’s going on? Am I being released finally?”

The guard cast a wary look at him, then nodded at the two elves and mumbled something in their own tongue. The other elves looked at Kir as well and grinned, laughing amongst themselves. Before they left, the tallest of the two elves gave Ari a shove that did not look playful and muttered something to his fellow that Kir thought sounded menacing. The two laughed and then climbed the stairs, leaving him and the guard alone.

“Well?” Kir prompted after a pause. “You lettin’ me go or not?”

Ari had been staring after the two elves, a furrow of anger between his brows. The human’s voice seemed to bring the elf back to his senses. He narrowed his eyes at Kir, took him by the shoulder, and forced him a step towards the stairwell.

“Walk.”

“You’re lettin’ me go, right? Right?”

“No, you’re going to work off your crime.”

“What?!” Kir dug his heels into the stone as best he could and rounded on the elf with wide, panicked eyes. “What do you mean work? And what crime? I didn’t do nothin’! There’s no crime to work off!”

Ari growled and continued to steer him towards the stairs. “Just because you didn’t get away with the crime, doesn’t mean you don’t have to pay for the vile intentions that spurred it.”

The human continued to cry out against the perceived injustice, but his shrill cries did nothing to stop his guard. When Kir stopped and refused to take a step further, Ari simply grabbed him by the arm and dragged him up the stairs, like a parent would do with an errant child.

They left the prison and headed West of the town, away from the shore that Kir had left his boat on. He was unsure where they were taking him and for a moment, he felt a small thrill of worry that he might be being led to his death. A glance back at Ari did nothing to ease his worries; the elf’s face was lined with contempt.

They walked in silence, or to be more accurate Kir was pushed in silence. He tried several times to lead the elf in one direction or another, but Ari simply readjusted his grip on the human’s arm until it became painful and Kir stopped trying to veer away from the path. Once they were out of sight of the city, elves began to pass them on the trail. Most of them were covered in dirt, looking grim and hostile. No small bit of that disdain fell on Kir when they passed. He tried to smile at them, but they only scowled.

“I thought elves were happy.” He mumbled after a passing a trio of elves that were shouting amongst themselves.

His guardian snorted. “What have we to be happy about?”

There was a tight, bitterness in Ari’s voice that seemed out of place in the usually calm elf and Kir twisted around to look at him. Ari still appeared ill at ease. He gulped nervously. He had begun to form words to ask what all the elves were concerned about when the hollow sound of hammering reached his ears. The human swung his head forward curiously.

The trail they were traversing led into a lot devoid of anything but dirt and gravel. The face of a steep cliff side stood before them. Kir saw that several wide holes bore into the rock wall, creating mineshafts. What Ari had said to him in the prison suddenly echoed in his head. You’re going to work off your crime. And he had heard that when punishment was concerned, the punishment should fit the crime. The same panic he had felt at the prison retuned.

“What exactly are we doing here?” Kir asked, trying to edge away from the guard.

Ari kept a firm hold on him. “Since you were so eager to get your hands on our rubies, you can help us mine for them.” He gave the human a light push towards a hole. “Let’s go.”

“Do I get to keep the rubies?”

He did not receive an answer.

Though the entrance to the mineshaft was large and wide, once one walked a few feet inside it was pitch black. The lanterns held fast on nails protruding from the earth walls did little more than offer a little light by which someone could see a foot in front of them. There was a bunch of gear sitting at the mouth of the mine entrance and Ari picked up several objects and then lit a lantern for them to carry.

“Alright, move forward.” He said.

“You want me to go in there? But it’s dark!”

“It’s a mine, of course it’s dark. Now walk.”

Kir protested again, but when Ari reached out to propel him forward, he decided it would be in his best interest to move by himself. He was getting tired of all the elves manhandling him. They walked deep into the tunnel, around a sharp curve and down a steep incline. At the bottom, Kir could see discarded tools and a pile of rubble.

“This mine isn’t abandoned because it’s dangerous, is it?”

Ari sat down on a crate and put the lantern on the floor, turning a knob so that the flame inside burned brighter. “It isn’t abandoned. The work team is on their lunch break. They’ll return soon enough.”

“How can they be on their lunch break? It’s barely morning!”

“If you begin work when the moon is still high in the night sky, morning is your lunch hour.”

“You guys work ‘round the clock?! You’re not gonna make me work that long, are you?!”

The elf sighed and gestured at a shovel. “Start working. You’re only going to work a six hour shift. The prison master isn’t entirely confident in your skills as a miner.”

Kir did not hear the last part of Ari’s speech. “Six hours?! I can’t work that long! I’ll die!”

It took a good deal of effort on Ari’s behalf not to strike the human. He was generally not a violent type, but his patience had limits and this human pushed them. When Kir crossed his arms and glared at him, he knew there would be trouble.

“I ain’t working!” The thief declared.

“Yes you will. Pick up the shovel and start digging. Put the dirt in the carts and later we’ll take the carts to be sifted through.”

“I said I ain’t gonna do nothin’!”

Ari narrowed his eyes, feeling himself reaching his limits. “Pick up the shovel.” He said tightly, curling his fingers against the side of the crate.

The human glared at him with firm conviction. As far as this thief was concerned, he was not going to work and the audacity of that belief both dumbfounded and enraged Ari. He was as fed up with the humans as his fellow elves and, though he tried not to let his anger boil over, he was not immune to urges to lash out. He felt the beginnings of such an urge forming that moment.

“You’d best get to work, or I’ll discipline you myself.”

Kir scoffed. “You don’t scare me. You’re the loser elf, even I can tell. All your buddies push you around. Why should I be afraid of you? What can you do? Bore me to death?”

There was a split second hesitation on Ari’s part before he lunged forward and grabbed the human by his short black hair and began to drag him out of the mine. Kir yowled in pain and immediately reached up to clutch at the fingers tugging against his scalp, but the elf’s grip was like steel. He tried to strike Ari, but with each attempt to extradite himself the guard would only yank harder on his hair.

The pain emanating from his scalp was so severe that it was all Kir could concentrate on. He did not notice when they had left the mineshaft or see the elves that they passed on the trail. The only reason he knew they were back at the prison was because his feet stumbled over each other as he was dragged down the stairs.

Ari finally released his hair when he fumbled with the cell key. While the elf unlocked the door, Kir rubbed at his head absently, cringing at the way it throbbed and stung. He was about to turn on the elf and demand an explanation when Ari grabbed his arm and pulled him into the cell. The grip on his arm was harsh, but not nearly as bad as the grip on his hair had been. The unceremonious shove towards the cot was also nothing compared to that first harsh tug on his hair had been.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! I didn’t do nothin’!”

He cast the elf a dark look, but his anger quickly gave way to wariness when he saw the unbridled rage on the guard’s face. When Ari reached for him again, fear clutched at Kir’s gut. He tried to use his stealth to maneuver away; for an instant, he even thought he might be able to make it to the cell door and dash out, but Ari was nimbler than he had first thought. After ducking under the elf’s arm and turning towards the cell door, Ari had grabbed a handful of the back of Kir’s shirt and dragged him to the cot in the back corner of the cell.

Ari plopped down on the straw mattress and yanked on the human’s arm, sending Kir sprawling across his thighs. It took a moment, lying in as awkward a position as he was, for Kir to realize the situation he was in. He tried to rise to his knees, but the elf planted a hand on his back, forcing him down and preventing him from moving.

“What are you gonna do?” Kir asked quietly, trying to look at the elf’s face.

Ari looked down at him. “If you won’t work then you’ll be punished.”

Kir gulped. He did not like the sound of that threat. He liked even less the position he was in, hanging over the guard’s lap. For a tense moment, his mind tumbled over itself, convincing himself that what he thought the elf meant to do was surely not going to happen. When he felt the hand on his back trail down his spine and rest on the swell of his behind, it became difficult for Kir to catch breath.

Punishment was not something Kir was accustomed to receiving, not even as a mischievous child. Perhaps that lack of experience made the moment all the more horrifying to the human. When Ari tugged at his pants, pulling them down his thighs, a part of him thought that the elf meant to rape him. Instead, he received a stinging slap on the rear. It took a moment to register in Kir’s muddled mind that he had been spanked. By the time he realized that the promised punishment he was receiving was not a trip to an elven torture chamber or being thrown down and raped, but instead spanked as if he was a child, he had been struck a third and fourth time.

It was a mundane punishment, but Ari was certainly not restraining himself. After the first several slaps, Kir could feel the pain burn into the soft flesh of his behind. It hurt so much that he cried out and attempted to wriggle away. His strength was nothing compared to the angry elf though. He received slap after stinging slap and, to his chagrin, tears started to leak past his eyelashes towards the end.

The assault ended abruptly and Kir was pushed aside. He dropped down to the floor, head bowed, trying to collect his breath and compose himself. Ari sat on the cot, frowning down at the human. When he was certain the thief had gathered his wits, he spoke.

“Don’t think my leniency with you now will be awarded to you again should you refuse to cooperate tomorrow. You’ll serve your time and complete whatever task is put before you, or you will receive much worse punishment than that. Do you understand?”

At his feet, Kir nodded. Ari stood. He cast one last look at the human and then left the cell, locking it behind him. He sat in the chair that he had brought last night and stared dismally at his feet.

Some time later, when the pain had subsided and Kir found it possible to move, he walked up to the bars and glared at the elf.

“What’s your problem exactly? You elves have hordes of rubies and diamonds and other stuff lyin’ around, so why are you being so stingy? You’re cutting back your trade and then you get mad when people come to try to get some of the riches you’re keeping for yourselves. If you don’t want trouble then don’t start nothin’!”

Ari glanced at him, anger still lingering in his eyes. “If even half of what you said were true, we would have packed you off with a bag of rubies and not wasted our time dealing with the likes of you. As it is, it is you humans who have cut back trade and denied us the food supplies that we need to survive and we don’t have the resources to meet the steep demands your people are making. So if you have complaints about the trade business, go speak to your human leaders.”

Kir was silent, having never before considered that there might be more complex reasons behind the elves’ decision to withhold their trade than simple greed. He grappled with what Ari had said to him, trying to decipher exactly what it meant and how it would pertain to him. If he ever made it off the island, he would have to do business more carefully. He might even be able to use the information to his benefit. If the jewels his people typically got from the elves were becoming scarce, then he could charge double, maybe even triple the price for the items he was selling.

The pain of a harsh spanking slipped to the back of Kir’s mind. He retreated to the cot and sat down, wincing a bit as his abused behind stung in protest. He ignored the sensation, much more concerned with the news he had just received, already planning a new escape and ways to increase his selling profit.

END

We're starting off slow, but a good deal of the story is already planned out and waiting to be written. There is much more fun, adventure, and sex to come. Props to those who catch the reference in the title.