Warning: See note at the end of the story for warning and comments.

Ties of Tradition

by Natalie L

Part One: The Blessing

"I am with child."

"What?" Jim turned from his dinner meal to give his mate an incredulous look.

"I said, I am with child," B'layr repeated patiently, a grin turning up the corners of his mouth.

"Noooo," Jim denied. "How...?"

B'layr laughed, the sound musical in the warm night air. "Has it been so long that you have forgotten?" He nudged Jim with his shoulder. "Our reunion last night was joyous. During our mating, I conceived."

"But I've only been here thirty-six hours!" Jim still couldn't get over the suddenness of the pronouncement.

Putting down his food, B'layr climbed onto Jim's lap, straddling his thighs and facing him. Resting his hands on the older man's shoulders, he leaned in until their foreheads touched. "We have been separated for many Turns-of-Seasons. The moment I set eyes on you again, my body was ready to receive your offering. We are soulmates. Are you not pleased?"

Jim wrapped his arms around the lithe elf, pulling him closer. "Of course I'm pleased," he said. "It's just that, at my age, I didn't expect to become a father again."

"Had we not been separated, we would have had many offspring. You are of elven blood, James Ellison. You are a Sentry. You bring back the Gift to our people."

A trill of flutes pulled their attention back to the tribe that had gathered around the central fire for the evening's meal. "It is time for the Blessing," B'layr whispered, climbing from Jim's lap and walking out into the bright circle of firelight.

"Blessing?" Jim asked to no one in particular.

L'anin settled next to his Sire. "It is a tradition among our people, when one of us conceives, to bless the Bearer. A child belongs to the entire tribe. This blessing assures that all will have a share in the bounty of B'layr's womb."

Jim shook his head, still not comprehending. Looking back toward the circle of light, he saw that B'layr had shed his clothes and stood naked before the assembled tribe. His skin glowed a rich golden hue in the light of the campfire. The tribe's Chieftain stood beside him.

"B'layr, Bearer of L'anin, Soulmate to J'anin, is with child," the leader pronounced. There was applause and cries of approval from the assembled elves. "He comes to us tonight to give his child to the tribe through the Blessing ritual. B'layr?" M'aris turned to the elf. "Go, and be richly blessed."

Jim watched as B'layr ascended a fur-covered platform, dropping onto his hands and knees. M'aris was the first to approach. Opening his breeches, he Blessed the pregnant womb of the Bearer. Anger flared as Jim watched the ceremony. "He can't do that!" he hissed, standing.

Before he could take more than one step, L'anin's arm shot out to stop him. "No, Sire! This is the Blessing. Let them be."

Jim shrugged off the hand, fury fueling him. Long strides brought him quickly to the Blessing platform where he swept the waiting elves out of his way. "Get away from him!" he cried. "This is barbaric! I won't let it continue." He knelt next to B'layr, who looked at him with a shocked expression.

"James, what do you think you are doing?" the distraught elf asked.

"Saving your ass," he shot back.

Many hands assaulted him, pulling Jim from the platform and over to the central campfire. "You disrupt the ceremony!" M'aris accused.

L'anin stepped up, addressing his father. "Sire, you must let them continue. This is for the good of the tribe. B'layr will not be harmed." He turned to his Chieftain. "I will see that he does not interrupt again," he vowed, taking Jim's arm.

Reluctantly, the other elves restraining the man let go. M'aris turned to the Sentry. "See that you do. If he interrupts again, he will be expelled from the tribe!"

L'anin nodded his understanding and tugged lightly at Jim's arm. "Come, Sire. Please." When Jim stubbornly refused to move, he leaned in to whisper in his ear, "If you do not cooperate, M'aris will be within his right to expel you from the tribe. If he does so, you will never see B'layr again!"

With a rueful glance over his shoulder at his soulmate, Jim allowed himself to be led back to the cut logs that served as benches around the meeting area. He seethed as he watched the elves line up, each taking their cocks from their pants and fucking his lover. "How many of them are there?" he asked his son.

"Our tribe numbers fifty-three, fifty-four since your arrival."

"So he gets fucked fifty-two times?" Jim growled, watching the parade up to the platform where B'layr knelt.

"He is Blessed by the entire tribe," L'anin confirmed.

"Including you?" Jim was incredulous.

"Yes, but I hold the place of honor. As B'layr's firstborn, and Sentry to the tribe, I go last," L'anin explained.

"That's incest!" Jim exploded.

L'anin shook his head. "You have much to learn of elvish ways, my Sire. This blessing ensures that the child will belong to the entire tribe. Do not be so upset. Everyone knows that only a soulmate can father a child. There is no doubt who impregnated B'layr. We take nothing from you. We only give to the Bearer and to the tribe."

"It's barbaric!" Jim repeated, squirming in his seat. He wanted to rescue his mate, yet he understood the consequences. He couldn't lose B'layr again. He wouldn't.

"There will be a break soon," L'anin assured him. "B'layr will need to rest, to have some food and drink. You may approach him then."

Jim nodded his acceptance of what he was told and waited, watching as one after another of the elves came to Bless his mate in a perpetual stream of sexual intercourse. After an hour had passed, the Chieftain stepped in, stopping the ritual. He walked over to B'layr, offering a small morsel of food and a cup of water.

The elf had collapsed onto the furs, grateful for a chance to rest, however briefly. He ate and drank the offerings, sighing deeply and looking over at his mate.

L'anin nudged Jim. "Now is the time. Your presence will strengthen him for the rest of the ritual."

Jim got up and walked over to the raised platform, which was about chest height to him. Leaning on the furs, he petted the sweat-dampened locks of hair that hung into B'layr's flushed face. "Are you all right?" he asked softly. B'layr nodded, closing his eyes briefly. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you," Jim apologized. "But I couldn't stand to see you being fucked by every damn elf..." His voice trailed off as he studied his exhausted mate. "Please stop this. You can make this end."

"No, Beloved. This is our way. It was the way when I was pregnant with L'anin; it is the way now," B'layr explained. "This child must belong to the tribe, in case anything happens to either of us. The Blessing ensures the child will have family and a place among our people."

"Over half the damn tribe has fucked you already!" Jim hissed. "Isn't that enough?"

"James!" B'layr's voice was tense. "This is a Blessing. Do not deface the sanctity of it with your vulgarities!"

"But, but..." Jim stammered, surprised by his mate's outburst. "They're hurting you. Just look at you...."

B'layr's eyes softened. "I am not hurt, my heart. I am just tired. Soon this will be over, and I will make the journey to the sacred place of cleansing. After that, I will be yours again."

"May I come with you to this place of cleansing?" Jim asked, wanting desperately to watch over and protect his mate.

"It is usually a solitary journey, meant for reflection on the Blessing," B'layr explained. "But you may accompany me, so long as you do not interfere," he added sternly.

"I love you, B'layr. I'll do whatever you ask." He leaned in to capture the parted lips in a gentle kiss.

"Then resume your place, and let this be done," B'layr instructed. "I love you, too," he whispered as Jim reluctantly took his place once more next to L'anin. He pulled his knees beneath him and resumed the position. The elves who had not yet imparted their Blessing began to line up.

As the last of them stepped down from the platform, L'anin stood. The Chieftain turned once more to the assembled elves. "L'anin, first issue from the womb of B'layr and Sentry to the Wolf Tribe—" L'anin stepped forward, mounting the platform. "Bless your Bearer, that his unborn will also be of Sentry blood."

Unlike the others, who had taken B'layr quickly and moved on, L'anin took the time to brush long hair from the sweating face and to stroke his hands down the sleek sides of his Bearer. As he entered B'layr, he leaned over his back, whispering in his ear. "Blessed are you, Bearer of Sentries, for from your womb comes the hope and future of our tribe." A few short strokes, and it was over.

L'anin gathered his weary Bearer into his arms. "Will you be able to make the journey to the sacred place?" he asked, cradling B'layr's head to his chest.

B'layr nodded. "J'anin will accompany me, give me strength to complete the ritual."

L'anin motioned to Jim, who had continued to sit and fidget while his son comforted his mate. He approached the platform, worried over the exhaustion he could see written in the strong yet delicate features of his lover. "B'layr?"

"I am all right," the elf assured him. "But I must make my way to the sacred place to cleanse myself, and I fear I do not have the strength."

"I'll carry you." Jim moved around to the end of the platform and began to climb the stairs. "You just tell me the way."

"No." B'layr's words stopped him once more. "I must make my own way. But I desire your company and your strength. Help me up?"

Jim took one arm, while L'anin supported the other. Together they pulled B'layr to his feet. The exhausted elf leaned heavily against his soulmate as they staggered down the stairs together.

Jim bent to pick up the discarded clothing. "No." B'layr shook his head. "The journey is not far. I do not need the covering. This way." He pointed to the north of the camp.

They walked past the fire pit, past the cut logs that served as benches, past sleeping huts and milling elves, to the edge of the tribe's encampment and into the heavily wooded virgin forest.

B'layr led the way, although Jim wondered how the elf could see the path in the overwhelming darkness. Even his Sentry senses could barely make out the narrow swath of cleared ground leading ever deeper into the woods. The sound of water caught his ear. It was distant, but had the tinkling sound of a gentle cascade. They continued in the direction of the sound, the splash of water getting louder as they approached another clearing.

Stepping from the trees into a moonlit glade, Jim was enthralled by the beauty of the place. A small pool, which nevertheless looked deep, was fed by a delicate waterfall. The cascading liquid sparkled in the pale light, dropping into the pool and sending concentric ringlets out across the surface of the otherwise still water.

"This place is sacred to us," B'layr explained.

"It's beautiful."

"Yes, it is," B'layr agreed. "I must cleanse myself now." With that, he arrowed his arms above his head and dove into the pool.

Jim watched as the elf sliced beneath the surface of the water ... and continued to watch as several minutes ticked by. He began to strip, worried that he might have to search the dark water for the body of his soulmate. And yet, the connection was still there, still vibrating with life and vitality. He had no more than put a toe to the cold water when B'layr burst through the surface like a dolphin breaching the ocean waves. He dropped briefly back below the surface, then bobbed up, shaking his head and laughing.

"Join me, my heart," he invited. "I am clean. I need only be Blessed by the offspring's Sire to make the night complete."

"Is that part of the ritual?" Jim asked, timidly entering the cold water.

B'layr shook his head and laughed, obviously refreshed and revitalized by his swim. "No, my heart. But I think it should be required. Do you not agree?"

Jim reached his soulmate in the center of the pond and wrapped his arms around the slender waist. They both tread water in a small circle as Jim studied the face before him. "You haven't changed at all," he said with amazement. "I expected you to have aged, but you haven't changed." As he captured the laughing mouth across from him, the couple briefly submerged, their attention drawn away from staying afloat.

"And you, J'anin, have retained your handsome features and your strength. It is the elven blood in you. We will have a long and fruitful bonding, I am certain." B'layr broke free and swam beneath the waterfall. "Catch me," he laughed. "Bless me."

Jim joined his mate under the cascade, shaking his head. "No Blessings here, Imp. It's too cold to get it up. Let's go back to our sleeping hut and curl up in the furs. I'll Bless you all night, once we're warm."

"Race you home, Sentry," B'layr's laughing voice taunted. A handful of powerful strokes brought him to the bank where he climbed out and ran to the tree line. Jim followed quickly, managing to keep his spry elven mate in sight as they dodged through the forest in a playful game of cat and mouse.

Under cover of darkness, the pair found their way back to B'layr's sleeping hut and were soon curled comfortably in the furs.

"Are you still upset, my heart?" B'layr asked, stroking a hand gently down the length of Jim's arm. When his mate didn't answer, the elf continued. "The sexual act among our people is performed for a number of different reasons," he explained. "There is procreation, of course. But that can happen only to soulmated couples. There is also ritual and pleasure.

"Because only soulmates can reproduce, the sexual act for simple pleasure is common among us. Do not be surprised to see open displays. Among our people, it is common to relieve yourself with any consenting adult." B'layr studied his mate's face, curious for a reaction.

"I'll kill any pointy-eared hobgoblin that gets his dick anywhere near you again!" Jim hissed, pulling B'layr to him in a possessive embrace. "You're mine."

"Yes, my heart," B'layr answered, a tiny grin turning up the corners of his mouth. "Since the Blessing ritual, no elf will approach me in that manner again so long as I am pregnant," he assured. "I am yours alone." He leaned in to kiss the pouting lips that were so near. When he pulled back, he felt compelled to continue his explanation.

"In the Wolf Tribe, we are the only soulmated pair."

Jim pulled back slightly and gave the elf a searching look. "You've got to be kidding! This soulmating thing can't be that rare!"

"But it is," B'layr pronounced. "Three winters ago, A'mara lost his mate to the Great Sickness. We lost nearly half our number that year."

"Good God, B'layr!" Jim interrupted, hugging him close. "You mean you and L'anin were exposed? You could have died? What was this sickness?"

"A great fever," B'layr answered quietly. "I did become ill, but I was one of the lucky ones."

"Thank God!" Jim nuzzled into the fragrant curls, drinking in the scent of his mate, marking him permanently in his memory. "I don't know what I would have done, if I'd come here searching, only to find you had died."

"You would have grieved, my heart, but you would have gone on to live a long life," B'layr comforted. "And L'anin would have been here for you. You would not have grieved alone." He stroked a hand through the short bristles of his mate's hair, calming him with a touch.

"M'aris's mate died in the autumn of last year. Killed by a hunter's bullet," B'layr continued. "He was pregnant at the time...." His voice trailed off, his memory recalling the tragedy with extreme clarity. Taking a deep breath, he went on. "That left me as the only mated adult in our tribe, but my mate was not here."

"I'm here now," Jim said fiercely. "And I won't leave you again. Ever."

"It has been hard for the Wolf Tribe," B'layr admitted. "No young ones to raise...." He sighed. "But if you cannot find it within yourself to accept our rituals and traditions, M'aris will send you away."

Jim clutched his mate closer. "You'd come with me."

"I would not be allowed," B'layr whispered into his ear. "I bear the tribe's only elfling. I would not be free until after the birth. Even if I then decided to follow you, the child would remain here. He is a part of the tribe now."

"Then I'll do whatever I have to in order to stay here with you," Jim vowed. "I couldn't stand to be parted from you again."

"Nor I from you." B'layr ended the melancholy conversation with a passionate kiss.

~oO0Oo~

The next morning, Jim awoke alone in the furs—the scent of their lovemaking still strong in his nostrils. Pushing himself up, he exited the small hut to find B'layr hard at work tanning hides into supple leather. The canary he'd brought with him as a gift to his mate circled just above the riot of curls, chirping excitedly.

B'layr looked up from scraping a fresh hide to see his lover framed in the doorway. "Good morning, Jim. Did you sleep well?"

"Very," Jim confirmed, walking out to wrap his arms around his mate. He wrinkled his nose at the noxious scent of death clinging to the hide. "Must you do that?" he asked.

"It is my craft," B'layr explained. "Dial back your sense of smell."

"It's mighty hard work for someone who's pregnant," Jim offered. "Don't you think you should be doing something else?" He glanced over his shoulder to the spinning wheel and loom that sat off in a secluded corner. "How about weaving?"

B'layr turned a slightly exasperated look on his Sentry. "Weaving is my hobby," he informed Jim. "But wool to spin is rare, so I seldom get to indulge. Occasionally, a farmer can be convinced to part with some wool in exchange for tanned pelts, but it is usually an expensive bargain for the elves." He shrugged. "I am the tanner. I must get the skins ready for winter."

"May I help?"

Wiping his hands on his apron, B'layr grasped Jim's forearms and pushed him away. "No, my heart, you may not. Your duty to the tribe is as a Sentry. You must use your gift. L'anin will be by shortly to show you our territory and the lands we watch over. Learn well, J'anin. It will secure your place among my people."

The breath rushed out of him with a sigh and Jim sagged in his mate's grip. When B'layr used his elven name, the situation was serious indeed. "We'll be apart all day," he complained.

"And together every night," B'layr responded, a sultry grin teasing his lover. "'Parting makes the heart beat faster'," he quoted.

"We say, 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder'," Jim added, taking B'layr into his arms. "If I must, in order to stay with you, then I will be a Sentry for the tribe." He covered the full lips with his own mouth, kissing his lover deeply.

"Ah, Sire!" L'anin called, stepping through the shrubs into the small clearing. "I am sorry to interrupt," he said with a sly grin, "but it is time to begin the patrols. B'layr said you would be accompanying me today."

"Go," B'layr said, patting Jim on the shoulder. "Show M'aris and the others that you belong here. Use your gift." He turned back to the hard work of scraping the meat and fat away from the deerskin in preparation for tanning.

With one last longing glance at his beloved, Jim turned to follow his son into the forest.

"It will be good to have another Sentry in the tribe, Sire," L'anin commented as he led his father out into the old growth forest surrounding the Wolf Tribe's camp. "It has been a great burden to be the only set of eyes and ears for our people." He followed a narrow footpath that wound deeper into the undergrowth. "Once you are familiar with the area, the Elders will set up the trial. When you have passed, you will become the Senior Sentry of the tribe."

"Trial?" Jim asked, walking behind the young elf. "What, exactly, are we talking about?"

"You will be tested," L'anin said, as if that explained everything.

"Tested?" Jim came up beside his son, looking at him questioningly.

L'anin sighed and stopped their trek. He turned to his elder and gestured with his hands, much as B'layr tended to do when he spoke. It made Jim smile inside to see the similarities. "There will be a series of tests to determine your knowledge of the forest and our tribe, and of the use of your senses. You must prove to all that you truly are a Sentry."

"And if I weren't," Jim replied, "how could you be?"

"Being and doing are different things, Sire. To be a Sentry is to have the senses, but you must be able to utilize them in a manner useful to the People."

"I see," said Jim, not at all sure he really did. "And why would passing this trial make me the Senior Sentry? You've been on the job considerably longer than I have. Where I come from, experience is usually the determining factor."

"Ah, but you are my Sire," L'anin said, again sounding as though that explained it all. "You gave me the Gift. If you prove yourself in the trials, then, as the elder Sentry you will also become the Senior."

"Okaaayyy..." Jim said, skeptically. A few moments later, another thought occurred to him. "What if I fail the trials?"

"You will be banished." L'anin's voice was flat, without emotion.

"Then I won't fail."

They continued along their way, with L'anin pointing out areas of importance or interest to his Sire. Jim followed in silence, stretching his senses to drink in as much of the information as he possibly could in the short time provided by the warm autumn day.

They stopped in a clearing near a small stream, and L'anin bent to take a drink. Jim settled himself on a mossy log and stretched his weary legs. "Think we could take a short break?" he asked. L'anin nodded, and Jim pulled out a packet of food he had brought along for his lunch. As he nibbled on the meat and bread, he looked up at his son.

"Why do you call me 'Sire,' yet call B'layr by his given name?" The question had been nagging at Jim since he'd joined the elf tribe. "B'layr is your Bearer, the one who gave you life. Don't you have a special title for him?"

L'anin looked up, surprised. "Why? He was merely the womb that bore me. It was your seed that made me."

Jim shook his head in shocked silence. He really needed to have a "birds and bees" talk with his son, he decided. "B'layr nearly died giving birth to you!" he argued.

"And if it were not for you, Sire, both he and I would be dead."

"That's not the point! He carried you for an entire year, yet you have no more respect for him than any other elf in your tribe!" Jim was angry, and it was finally boiling over.

L'anin managed to look contrite. "That is not entirely true. I hold B'layr more dear to my heart than any other, but to care for one's Bearer in such a manner is considered weak. It is the Sire who holds the power."

"What kind of a fucked-up society is that?" Jim raged.

"In most cases of soulmated pairs," L'anin explained, striving to remain calm, "the mates switch off, alternating bearing and siring. That way, each holds esteem and a place of pride within the tribe." He sighed. "B'layr could not help that he was drawn to you. Soulmates do not choose, but are fated to be together. Because he found his mate in a human who cannot be a Bearer, B'layr will be forced into the role each cycle."

"Each cycle?" Jim asked, engrossed in the story, but horrified by the potential.

"Once he gives birth, within two to three months, B'layr will be fertile again. Because he cannot sire an elfling, he will become a Bearer again."

"No!" Jim jumped up from his seat and paced around the small clearing. "I won't do that to him! I won't keep him perpetually pregnant!"

"You have no choice," L'anin said. "Unless you intend to become celibate and deprive the tribe of new life. That is also punishable by banishment."

"But B'layr..."

"Expects this, Sire. He knows his place and is content." L'anin stood and intercepted the pacing older man. "B'layr holds power in the tribe as the 'Bearer of Sentries'. No other can bring back the Gift. That alone will set him above other Bearers."

"But he'll still be considered a second-class citizen because he can't father a child," Jim said, absorbing the notion. "Because of me."

"B'layr does not regret his bonding, Sire. He loves you more than the sun loves the heavens. Now that you are here, he is complete."

"But is that enough?" Jim wondered. "It doesn't seem right."

"It is the way it is." L'anin began to move back out into the forest, leaving his Sire with much to consider. Silently, Jim followed.

~oO0Oo~

When they returned to the camp, Jim retreated into the sleeping hut, unable to face his soulmate. He stretched out onto the furs and closed his eyes. Sleep claimed him quickly.

A rustle woke him an hour later. B'layr had passed through the deerskin curtain that covered their doorway and had come to sit next to him. A hand roughened by the hard work of tanning stroked over his face, the blue eyes sparkling as they looked down on him.

Jim reached up to trail his fingers across B'layr's soft cheek, and then tangled them in the auburn-hued curls, pulling the elf down for a gentle kiss. When he released his love, there were tears in his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

B'layr's smile was almost saintly in its sweetness. "L'anin told me of your talk today. Do not be concerned for my well-being. I am happy the way things are."

"L'anin said that you were, but I can't believe that," Jim whispered. "How can you be, when being mated to me means you have no status within your own tribe?"

"But I do, my heart," B'layr countered. "I am the 'Bearer of Sentries' and the tribe's leather-maker. I am also the soulmate of the potential Senior Sentry and Bearer of the tribe's current Sentry. No one will question my standing within the hierarchy of the People."

Jim laid a hand over the still-flat belly, working his fingers under the loose leather to feel the warmth of the skin beneath. "Our child grows here," he said with awe. "How can they not hold that in the highest regard?"

"While I carry, I am third only to the Chieftain and the Sentry," B'layr informed him. "We are like royalty, a soulmated pair. Do not worry for me."

"But I do. You work too hard," Jim complained. "What if I were to get you wool? Lots of wool to spin and weave? Would the tribe allow you to do that, instead of tanning hides?"

"The hides must be cured, or they will be lost," B'layr said with a note of dread. "We cannot afford to lose them."

"Then let me help. I can work on the pelts when I get home from Sentry duty."

"You are exhausted tonight, J'anin," B'layr said softly. "Look at you. In bed before the evening campfire."

"I'm just not used to all the traipsing around," he defended himself. "It'll get better."

"You, my heart, are a Sentry. That is what you do. I will finish preparing these hides, and if you bring the wool, I will seek permission to spin instead of tan." B'layr rolled over, draping an arm and a leg over the recumbent man. "But now, must we talk? I have waited a long and lonely day to have you in my furs again." A sultry smile curled the corners of his mouth as his hands began exploring the willing body beneath him.

L'anin smiled as he passed the sleeping hut and heard the sounds associated with passionate lovemaking. He never doubted that his Bearer could overcome the reservations of his Sire. Such was the power of love.

Part Two: The Trials

M'aris stood in the center of the camp, flanked by B'layr, L'anin and Jim. He blew a horn, calling the tribe to the meeting. Once the elves had gathered, he addressed the crowd. "Now is the time of testing. J'anin has come before us to endure the Trials and become the Senior Sentry of the Wolf Tribe." There was a scattering of applause as the Chieftain turned to the outsider. "The first Trial will test your knowledge of our territory; of our encampment, and the lands around it. To be a Sentry for our people, you must be able to protect and defend our home. You will also be expected to spot game and predict changes in the weather, especially as we progress closer to the Cold Time." He waved a hand and a half dozen elves stepped forward. "These will watch you as you patrol our borders. The first Trial will last three days. Go, J'anin. Prove your worth." He turned his back on the little family and walked away.

B'layr turned to his mate and wrapped his arms around Jim's neck. "You will do well, my heart." He smiled up at Jim, offering his mouth.

Jim bent and covered the warm lips with his own. His tongue tasted the sweetness, savoring the flavor of his love. "Three days," he groaned as they separated.

"The time will fly on ravens' wings," B'layr assured him. "I have no doubt that you will succeed. But now you must leave," he added sadly. "To delay longer would not be to your advantage." He gave Jim a gentle push toward the borders of their camp.

With one last look over his shoulder at his soulmate and his son, Jim headed out on his lone patrol of the Wolf Tribe's borders. As he made his way along the well-worn paths, he was aware of the elves sent to observe him, even though they were careful to remain out of sight.

Inwardly, Jim grinned. They were out of sight, all right—cleverly hidden among the bushes and trees, not too near, not too far. But he knew where each and every one of them hid. He would make sure to tell M'aris that his spies needed to find better concealment or follow openly. As it was, he found their stealth to be an amusement.

Back at the camp, B'layr rested his hands against his belly and sighed. L'anin was immediately at his side. "Are you well..." he paused a moment, then forged on, "Mother?"

B'layr turned to look at his son, smiling. "'Mother' am I now?" he chuckled. "When did you decide this?"

L'anin blushed slightly, resting one of his hands over those of B'layr's. "J'anin was angry with me for calling you by your name, instead of a respectful title," he explained. "I tried to tell him it is not our way, but he would have none of it. He said that in his culture, the Bearer is called 'mother'."

More laughter bubbled up from B'layr's throat. "Do you not remember what you learned when you visited your Sire's city?" he asked. "The race of Men is sexually divided between Sires and Bearers. Each can only perform the one function, and there are physical differences as well. The females, the Bearers, are called 'mother' once they give birth. I am not a female. If anything, our race outwardly resembles the males in J'anin's culture. You do not need to call me 'mother.' I do not need a title of respect. I know your feelings for me." He pulled L'anin close and placed a loving kiss against his temple. "You are half elf, half man. You are pulled between two cultures," B'layr continued. "But you live among the elves. Do not fret ... your Sire will adapt. He is as stubborn as he is strong, but he is also intelligent."

"But I like having something special to call you," L'anin lamented. "We do not have to speak of it in public."

"You risk much to please your Sire."

"Love risks much ... Mother." L'anin continued to lean against his Bearer, wrapping protective arms around the smaller elf. "I will see you are protected while your soulmate is out on Trial."

B'layr squeezed the hand that rested on his. "I would expect nothing less from the son of J'anin."

~oO0Oo~

The three days passed more quickly than Jim would have thought possible. "On ravens' wings," B'layr had said. He had traversed the entire boundary of the tribe's camp, ranging outward into the surrounding territory by as much as two miles. Now, he carried home three large rabbits, each killed by a single arrow through the eye. B'layr would be pleased to receive the soft pelts for tanning, and the meat would be offered to the Chieftain as a token of the hunt.

"James!"

The voice that greeted his arrival home was like music. B'layr came bounding through the sparse shrubs at the camp's border and flung himself into his soulmate's arms. If it hadn't been for L'anin following close behind, Jim would have dropped the rabbits in order to catch his mate. Fortunately, the young elf took the offering and backed away, leaving the lovers to reunite in private.

"I missed you so much!" Jim murmured, his face buried in the fragrant hair that fell around B'layr's shoulders.

"I have missed you, as well, my heart," the elf agreed, wrapping his legs around Jim's waist and allowing his larger mate to carry him back into the camp. "We will celebrate your return tonight. But first, M'aris will judge your testing. From what I have heard, he is well pleased with your performance."

As they approached their living area, B'layr let his legs drop, so that he stood on his own feet. L'anin had left the rabbits on the table B'layr used to prepare hides. Taking a sharp knife, the elf began to quickly and methodically skin the small animals. Jim watched in fascination. This was not the first time he had killed for food. He was well aware of how to skin and gut the carcass, but he had never seen a skill like his mate demonstrated in preserving the whole pelt while skinning the animal in record time.

"That's amazing!" he said, awe coloring his voice.

B'layr looked up from his work and smiled. "What? Skinning? It is what I do, J'anin. Did you not bring back the rabbits so that I could have the pelts?"

"Well, yes," Jim admitted. "I've just never seen you actually prepare a fresh kill."

"There is much you have not seen. Here," he said, handing the skinned carcasses to Jim. "You will need these to present to M'aris. We should go ... the tribe awaits our arrival."

The Chieftain stood beside the large bonfire, lit to hold off the chill of the mid-autumn evening. "J'anin!" The Sentry stepped forward, handing his offering to M'aris. "What have you to tell us about your first Trial?" he asked, passing the rabbits to another elf.

Jim cleared his throat. "I saw deer to the north and east of the camp, within an easy distance for hunting. There is also a black bear prowling east of us, but so far he has stayed far enough away that I'd say he's no threat to the tribe." He turned to the Chieftain. "Do you also hunt bear?"

"Occasionally," M'aris admitted. "But it takes a hunting party, instead of an individual, to bring one down. They are dangerous and are usually only hunted when they threaten the camp."

"Not a problem, then," Jim agreed. "There are no hunters in our immediate vicinity, and game appears plentiful this season." His pronouncement brought scattered cheers from the assembled elves. "The winter will be a cold one this year, if I'm any judge," he added. "The barometric pressure dropped twice while I was out. I predict rain is likely in the next day or two."

L'anin nodded. "He speaks truly. I have felt the coming of the wet season for the past few days."

M'aris nodded his acceptance of the statement and went to confer with the elves who had kept an eye on Jim throughout the Trial. Turning back to the man in question, he placed a hand on Jim's head. "You have passed the first Trial."

A cheer went up from the elves, and B'layr launched himself at his mate, nearly knocking him over with his enthusiasm. As Jim stood in the center of the clearing, his mate wrapped around his neck and waist, M'aris made his final pronouncement of the evening. "The next Trial will begin on the new moon, five suns hence."

The gathering began to break up, with the elves gathering around a cooking fire where the rabbits had been roasting on a spit during the ceremony. The meat was divided and distributed among the tribe, each elf getting no more than a taste. Several came up to congratulate Jim and wish him luck on the next phase of the Trial.

When the elves finally began to disperse, B'layr heaved a sigh of relief. "I am ready to have you to myself," he said with a sly grin. "I do not like this sharing."

Jim adjusted the weight of his mate, redistributing it slightly across his hips. "You're getting heavy, Imp. It's time we go back to the sleeping hut, wouldn't you say?"

In response, B'layr buried his face against Jim's neck and began to nibble lightly. The Sentry hurried, as best he could, back to the privacy of their small home, depositing his mate on the fur-covered platform.

B'layr quickly scrambled out of his clothing, eager to be with his mate again. Jim stopped mid-way through his disrobing to stare at the softly rounding abdomen. He knelt next his lover and placed a hand over the slight mound.

"The child grows quickly," B'layr explained. "By the end of the Cold Time, I will be as round as a cooking pot."

Jim smiled, stroking the smooth skin over where their child grew. "It's hard for me to believe." His voice was laced with awe. "Even though we've been through this before, it's still hard for me to believe."

"Why?" B'layr placed his hand over that of his soulmate's. "Why do you doubt what your senses and your heart tell you are true?"

"Because..." Jim stammered. "Because ... you're ... a man ... male!"

"I am neither." B'layr spoke patiently, as though to a child. "I am an elf."

"I know. I know," Jim sighed with exasperation. He waved his free hand at the ample erection, which rested next to their joined hands on B'layr's stomach. "But you look like a man, to me. I can't help myself. It's just so ... strange."

"Then do not think about it, my heart." B'layr pulled Jim down until their lips met, maneuvering the hand on his abdomen to cover his hard cock. The organ twitched at the touch, and Jim's fingers wrapped firmly around it.

As the kiss deepened, B'layr finished stripping his lover so that they lay entangled, naked on the furs.

Nearly breathless, the couple finally parted. Jim studied the handsome features of the wild creature he had fallen in love with so long ago. Echoes of a conversation with their son flitted through his mind. B'layr could not help that he was drawn to you. Soulmates do not choose, but are fated to be together. Because he found his mate in a human who cannot be a Bearer, B'layr will be forced into the role each cycle. He stroked a hand down one cheek, cupping the square jaw and looking directly into the pools of blue that were B'layr's eyes. "I want you to make love to me."

B'layr stared back for a moment, bewildered. Then he chuckled. "You cannot be a Bearer, Jim, no matter how much you wish for me to become a Sire."

"That's not the point!" Jim argued. "You told me elves have sex simply for pleasure, even when they can't procreate. That's all I want. Pleasure from you. You've never made love to me," he added more softly, stroking the cheek and then tangling his fingers in the auburn cascade of curls.

"Then I must remedy this lack in our relationship," the elf said with a wicked grin. He rolled out from under his larger partner and spooned up behind the man. Jim felt the firm flesh of B'layr's cock push against his opening, demanding entry. A slight gasp escaped when the muscle was breached and his lover slipped inside. Immediately, B'layr ceased movement, his hands gliding down Jim's body in a soothing motion. "Are you all right, my heart?"

"Sorry," Jim gasped. "I-I've never ... I thought maybe you'd stretch me first, that's all."

"This is your first time?" B'layr asked, amazed. "Oh, my soul, my heart! I am sorry. I did not know."

"I am a man, not an elf," Jim said with wry amusement, throwing B'layr's words back at him. "Before you came along and bewitched me, I'd only made love to women."

"I did not 'bewitch' you," B'layr stated firmly. "Elves have no magic. It was the soul-bond."

"Get on with it, Imp!" Jim growled. "I've never talked so much during sex before."

"You are certain?"

"Just go slow, okay?"

B'layr waited a moment, stroking the smoothness of Jim's body with his hands as he waited for his soulmate to relax. When he felt the body rest against his, he pushed deeper, going as slowly as he could manage. Jim's groans were a mixture of pain and pleasure as the long cock slid deeper into his body. Suddenly, Jim gasped, a cry drawn from his throat as his body arched, pushing himself back against his lover. B'layr froze, frightened by the reaction.

"Jim! By the gods, are you all right?"

When he finally spiraled down from the brink of orgasm, Jim turned his head to try and meet B'layr's eyes. "I'm fine," he gasped. "More than fine. I think you found my prostate." At the elf's puzzled look, Jim smiled. "Don't worry, it's good. Very good. Try that again."

B'layr resumed his gentle stroking as the tight passage began to relax once more. His cock-head rubbed over the internal nub on each thrust, eliciting gasps and moans of passion from his mate. With a smile, he increased his efforts, putting more pressure on the pleasure-sensitive area.

Jim came with a cry that echoed around the small hut, spraying his seed over his chest and B'layr's hand. His internal muscles massaged the organ filling him, dragging cries of ecstasy from the elf. With a series of frantic thrusts, B'layr climaxed soon after, collapsing in a sweaty heap upon the sleeping furs.

They lay for a time, still joined, until B'layr's softened cock slipped free. Jim rolled over to face his mate, gathering him into his arms. "That was incredible, Sweetheart!" He peppered kisses across the perspiration-coated forehead and cheeks.

"Jim?" B'layr pulled away slightly from the embrace. "What's a prostate?"

Jim stared at his mate for a moment and then chuckled. "It's, um, well ... it's a gland, part of the male reproductive system. I can't say I know exactly what it does, but it sure sets off fireworks during sex."

"We do not have such a gland." B'layr looked thoughtful. "At least, I believe we must not. I have never seen a reaction like yours when I touched it."

"Don't worry about it," Jim assured him, clasping B'layr's face between his palms. "It was wonderful. We'll have to try that again sometime." He sealed his pronouncement with another kiss, then pulled the elf to his chest and settled down to sleep.

~oO0Oo~

"So, what's supposed to happen during the next phase of this Trial thing?" Jim asked, watching as B'layr began to prepare the rabbit pelts for tanning.

The elf looked up from scraping one of the small hides. "You will be taken deep into the forest and left to live off the land. Sentries make the best hunters, you know. You will not lack for food or shelter if you make proper use of your gifts. You will then be expected to find your own way back to our camp."

"Yeah?" Jim looked thoughtful. "How long will I have to be gone?"

"M'aris says the trial will begin on the new moon. It should then end on the full moon."

"Two weeks, huh?" Jim walked up behind his soulmate and slipped his arms around the slightly swollen waist. "That's a long time to leave you alone."

"I will have L'anin," B'layr answered, smiling. "He is my self-appointed guardian when you are away." He picked up a second pelt and began scraping away the fat and meat from the skin. "Do you know what our son now calls me?" Jim shook his head. "He calls me 'Mother'."

Jim erupted in laughter, letting go of his mate so that he could wrap his arms around himself. "Oh, that's a good one! 'Mother'!"

"He said you told him I needed a title of respect," B'layr continued with some amusement. "And that is what Bearers are called in your tribe."

"Well, he's right," Jim said, sobering. "You do deserve to be treated with more respect. But, 'Mother'?" He started laughing again.

"It is fine with me," B'layr said, still smiling. "He promised to keep it between us. Such displays of affection toward one's Bearer are considered in bad taste, so he will not likely embarrass you in public."

"It's not me I'm worried about," Jim said, still trying to control the laughter.

"The rest of my people would not understand the significance of the title, anyway," B'layr said. "I thought it was rather sweet. He is most definitely his Sire's son."

"That he is," Jim agreed, still chuckling. "I'm glad to know there will be someone to watch over you while I'm gone."

"I will worry about you more than you need to worry about me," B'layr told him. "I do not doubt your gifts, but you are new to the forest. I do not relish thinking of you abandoned in strange country."

"It's not like I haven't done it before," Jim reminded him. "I told you about the helicopter crash in Peru? That was a hell of a lot longer than two weeks."

"But you had a tribe to help you," B'layr pointed out. "This time you will be alone. There will not even be watchers."

"That's good," Jim answered fervently. "They did a terrible job of keeping concealed last time."

"Oh?" B'layr asked, his amusement bubbling up once again. "Generally, my people are excellent at not being seen or heard."

"Your people aren't used to having Sentries in the tribe," Jim returned with a chuckle. "They would have been fine against a farmer or a hunter."

B'layr wiped his hands on the apron he wore and turned to face his soulmate. "Then you will have no trouble, my heart, and I will not have to worry."

~oO0Oo~

Jim looked around the forest glade where he had been left. Several days and nights of walking blindfolded through the woods had brought him here. His escorts had melted into the trees, each in a different direction, leaving him alone. His instructions were simple: survive, and return on the full moon.

His first order of business was shelter. The rains had begun during their trek to this isolated place. He wanted to be able to stay dry, to start a fire. He was near a cliff face. He could hear a waterfall tumbling over the rocks not far away. At least he had a steady source of fresh water. Heading toward the sound, he saw a deep cave behind the falls. Making his way around the edge of the pool, he was able to get behind the cascade to check out the shelter.

The first few yards of ground into the cave were damp from the fine mist coming off the waterfall, but deeper in was dry. It was also sheltered from the wind. The location seemed ideal. He began to gather dry wood and moss for a fire.

Once his encampment was settled, Jim began exploring. He had been left with nothing for his survival except a flint to start the fire and a knife in his belt. Nearby were tubers and mushrooms he had learned were edible. There were still a few berries left on the bushes and brambles. Patience would bring meat to his table, as animals came to the pool to drink. Satisfied, he ventured further into the forest, acquainting himself with his new territory.

~oO0Oo~

Now that the rains had begun, the Cold Time would soon follow. The members of the Wolf Tribe began moving their meager belongings out of their summer encampment to the series of caves where they spent their winters.

L'anin helped B'layr move his spinning wheel and loom into the protection of the stone shelter. "Why do you bother, Mother?" he asked. "You have no wool to spin."

"J'anin has promised me wool," B'layr said, never doubting. "I will be kept busy during the Cold Time."

"At least one of us will." L'anin frowned. He hated the closeness of the caves. The sounds and smells assaulted his senses, and the lack of entertainment made the long nights and short days seem endless. The only excitement was now, when his skill as a tracker aided the rest of the tribe in bringing in enough meat to last until the Thaw.

"Do not fret," B'layr chided. "This Cold Time we will have J'anin with us. He has many games you have not had time to learn." He sighed and looked up at the gray sky. "I long for the full moon, for his return. I pray he is well and protected."

"My Sire is not suffering," L'anin said with surety. "He is wise in the ways of the forest, beyond what I would expect from a human."

"He has lived in a forest before," B'layr told him. "It was a long time ago...."

The two elves sat, taking a break from the heavy work, while B'layr told his son the tale of a brave man who was sent out from his tribe to protect another, and found himself abandoned in a great forest. The tale of how his Sire survived and first discovered his Sentry abilities. Of how he eventually returned to his people, and used his abilities to protect his tribe, until one day, he stumbled upon his fate in another wood, much closer to home, and a child was conceived.

"And now he uses those abilities to survive the Trial," L'anin concluded. "Do not worry over him, Mother. He will come home to you, to us."

"I do not worry," B'layr sighed. "I simply miss him." He rested a hand over his belly, cradling the child within his womb.

~oO0Oo~

With the near constant patter of rain, Jim had to count the days in order to know when to start the journey home. Tomorrow should be the full moon. He had only to determine the direction in which to go. The rains would have washed away the scent trails, so he would have to rely on his other senses to bring him safely back to the camp.

The next morning, he set out. The footpaths used by the elves were faint but noticeable to his heightened eyesight. One path was slightly wider and more worn than the others. This was the one he chose. As he walked, his thoughts were on his soulmate waiting for his return. During his isolation, any time not spent strictly on survival had been spent wondering how B'layr was doing. His mate was strong and capable, but the pregnancy made him vulnerable. Jim needed to return, and swiftly. Winter was drawing near and he still had a promise left to fulfill.

He wondered what Steven's reaction would be when he showed up back in Cascade, providing M'aris gave him leave to run his errand. His brother had been left the bulk of his estate to hold in trust for the next thirty years. Jim felt that after that time, it was unlikely he'd ever have need of the money. But for now, it was available, should he request it.

He was excited at the prospect of bringing the wool for his soulmate to spin and weave. In addition, there were tools and supplies that could enhance B'layr's primitive implements. He began making mental notes of all he wanted to bring back with him.

What surprised him the most, he mused, as he made his way through the thick forest, was that he had no desire to return to the city for other than the supplies it could provide. He didn't miss the hustle and bustle. He didn't miss his former job. He didn't even miss his friends and family, few though they were. His life was now centered on a community and a people that most of his people thought were the stuff of fairy tales.

He enjoyed the relative simplicity of life with the elves. They were straightforward people with few demands, who had accepted him into their lives. While he didn't agree with all of their traditions and rituals, he found that for the most part, what they asked of him was reasonable. Even this testing. It was a fact that in many primitive tribes, young males were sent out to hunt and survive on their own, proving their manhood to the leaders. This was no different. Jim had come to the Wolf Tribe as an outsider, a human. Despite his obvious gifts, he was required to prove himself worthy. Soon he would be able to take his place as a full member of the tribe.

But for now, all that mattered was getting home ... home to his family, to B'layr.

~oO0Oo~

"He comes!"

There was excitement in the Wolf Tribe as scouts spotted the return of J'anin to the camp. The day was crisp and clear as the new Senior Sentry walked the path back to his home.

The elves busied themselves preparing the Welcoming Ceremony for their newest member. All but B'layr, who waited quietly on the edge of the encampment for his soulmate.

"Jim!" As soon as the Sentry came around a bend in the path, the elf launched himself at his mate.

"Whoa! Hold up a minute, Chief!" Jim chuckled, wrapping his arms around the bundle of excited elf. "It's good to see you, too." He returned the urgent kisses and stroked his hand through the long hair. "I missed you."

"And I, you," B'layr panted between kisses.

The quiet sound of a throat being cleared interrupted the happy reunion. Both man and elf turned toward the sound. L'anin stood a few feet away, grinning. "Sire, Mother ... M'aris awaits for the Welcoming Ceremony."

B'layr unwrapped himself from around his mate and slid back to the ground. Taking Jim's hand, he led the way back to the central bonfire. A buck was cooking on a spit, while tubers and other vegetable matter baked under hot rocks. M'aris stood near the fire on a small fur-covered platform.

As Jim and B'layr entered the circle, a cheer went up from the assembled elves, welcoming home the new Sentry. They climbed the platform to stand next to the Chieftain.

"J'anin, Sire of L'anin and Soulmate of B'layr... You have passed the Trials and proven yourself worthy of becoming the Senior Sentry of the Wolf Tribe." The chief placed a totem pouch around Jim's neck. "Inside this pouch are symbols of your rank among us. Add to it as your heart directs.

"And now," M'aris said, turning to B'layr. "Our newest tribe member will Bless our Bearer."

To Jim's great embarrassment, his soulmate nodded to the Chieftain and began to disrobe. M'aris left the platform as another roar of approval rose from the crowd. Once naked, B'layr lowered himself onto his hands and knees. Jim knelt down beside him. "What the hell? B'layr? Do they expect us to have sex here? In front of the entire tribe?"

"You are now a member of the tribe and our Senior Sentry. It is expected that all members contribute to the Blessing."

"But I'm the one who got you pregnant! How much more blessed is that?"

"You did not conceive the child in public, my heart. Please," he pleaded. "Do this for me."

"I-I don't know if I can," Jim admitted. "I'm no exhibitionist."

B'layr rose to his knees and positioned Jim so that his back was to the crowd. "Forget them. It is just the two of us." He leaned in to kiss Jim deeply. As he did so, he unfastened the leather thong that held his mate's breeches closed. Reaching in, he wrapped warm fingers around the flaccid cock and began stroking. "Your love for me resulted in this conception. Your love for me created new life. Your love for me will now bless that life." He bent down to press his lips against the now firm head of Jim's cock, then looked up from where he knelt with pleading in his eyes. "It is only the two of us," he whispered.

B'layr went back down on hands and knees, presenting himself to his soulmate. Taking a deep breath, Jim positioned himself and pushed inside. He stroked his hands down the smooth flanks of his lover as his gentle thrusts quickly grew in intensity. As he felt his climax near, he wrapped his arms around B'layr's waist and pulled him up, so that his back rested against Jim's chest.

B'layr let his head fall backward, resting on Jim's shoulder. His lips were parted and he was panting. His eyes were bright with need. Jim grasped the weeping cock that stood straight and tall against the softly rounding belly, beginning to fist it with enthusiasm. B'layr's moans quickly escalated to cries, as the soulmates climaxed together.

The orgasm was the most draining Jim had experienced in years. He sank to the furs, bringing his mate with him. He was barely aware as L'anin approached, draping another fur over them.

Warmed by the fur and the fire, B'layr was the first to wake. He crawled from the platform to join in the celebration. There was food and music; the elves dancing to lively tunes played on flutes and drums.

B'layr smiled as, a few minutes later, he felt the heavy fur being draped over his naked body. Jim stood behind him, his breeches once more laced up. "You looked cold."

Choosing not to argue, B'layr grasped his mate's hand and pulled him toward a trestle laden with food. Presented with the bounty, Jim's stomach growled loudly. B'layr laughed, the sound musical on the night breeze. "Eat, my heart. Feed your body so that we may repeat the Blessing later in the privacy of our own hut." He gave Jim a sly look, then repeated softly, "The child will grow tall and strong if the Sire blesses the womb of the Bearer at least once each sun-and-moonrise."

Jim turned from stuffing his face with the succulent meat of the young buck that had been roasting the entire evening. "Twice a day, huh? You sure that's enough to guarantee a healthy child?" he teased.

"During the Cold Time, when it is necessary to conserve body heat, many daily Blessings may be needed to ensure a healthy child and an easy birth." B'layr reached out to grab Jim's crotch and gave it a squeeze, then danced lightly out of his reach, laughing with delight as he watched various emotions flit across his lover's face.

"You'll pay for that, Imp," Jim growled, too hungry to seek immediate revenge. He filled his platter with food and then went to sit next to his son by the fire. He watched as B'layr shed the warm fur and danced naked in the golden light of the bonfire. Light and shadow flickered across his lithe form, accentuating the growing roundness of his belly.

His hunger appeased for the moment, Jim found his breeches becoming uncomfortably tight. L'anin nudged his Sire. "Take what is yours and retire for the night. You have earned your privacy."

Jim's gut reaction was to protest his son's statement. He didn't own B'layr. But watching the bewitching imp dance, he knew they belonged to each other. B'layr's eyes had never left his, despite his public display. He rose, stepping toward the fire, and took the hand offered to him. Instead of joining the dance, he pulled the elf into the shadows and led him back to their hut.

Part Three: The Cold Time

"I seek permission to leave on a personal errand." Jim faced the Chieftain in front of the elf's sleeping hut.

"How many suns do you anticipate being gone?" M'aris asked. "The tribe has need of your gifts now as we prepare for the Cold Time. Game must be located, killed and prepared. Tubers, nuts and berries must be gathered and stored. Once the snow begins to fall, food will become scarce."

"Two suns. Three, at the most," Jim answered. "I made a promise to B'layr, to provide him with wool to spin and weave this winter. His efforts will give the tribe warm blankets and coverings for the sleeping mats."

"He has already provided us with many fresh furs and new leather," M'aris pointed out.

Jim shook his head. It was like arguing with a brick. "I've heard the elves talk. They all dread the Cold Time because they lack work to keep them busy. There are ways they could help B'layr—carding the wool, for instance. B'layr could teach those interested in the skill. He can't be spinning and weaving constantly, but others could learn and take turns. If we don't use the blankets for ourselves, they would make trading goods for other items when the tribes meet after the Thaw."

M'aris nodded. "Granted. Three suns, and I will expect you back. Will B'layr accompany you?"

"I would rather he didn't," Jim replied. "The city is hard on him; he's vulnerable now in the early stages of his pregnancy. I wouldn't want to do anything to jeopardize his health."

"Is he prepared for your leaving?"

"Of course, he's not happy with another separation, but L'anin will watch over him in my absence. He knows why I wish to leave, and what I will bring back with me."

"Then say your good-byes. It is time you fulfill your promise." M'aris reached out to grasp Jim's arm and give it a squeeze. "Return to us, Sentry. Safe journey."

~oO0Oo~

"I will miss you." B'layr walked alongside his mate as he and L'anin accompanied Jim to where he'd left his truck four months earlier. "Drive carefully, and return on ravens' wings."

"I'll do my best," Jim promised. "I don't want to be separated from you any more than you want it."

They reached the clearing where Jim and Simon used to set up camp. The Ford Ranger pickup waited, right where Jim had left it. His only concern now was that the vehicle, which had set for so long, would start up for him. He climbed behind the wheel and retrieved the key from under the dash. Putting it in the ignition, he pumped the gas pedal and turned the key. The pickup made an intrepid attempt, but the engine didn't quite catch. Jim waited a minute, then tried again. On the fourth attempt, the battery finally achieved enough charge to start the engine.

Leaving the engine to idle and warm up, Jim climbed out of the cab. He gathered his family in a group hug. Turning to his son, he spoke sternly. "I leave B'layr in your care. See to it that he takes care of himself. Don't let him work too hard preparing for the Cold Time. I'll be back in three days." Then turning his attention to B'layr, he gathered the elf into his arms. Words were not adequate to express his feelings, so he simply left his soulmate with a long, lingering kiss.

The two elves watched as the pickup bounced over the uneven dirt road, until it rounded a bend and disappeared. L'anin wrapped an arm around his Bearer and steered him back toward home.

~oO0Oo~

"Jim! My God, I never expected to see you again!" Steven rounded the desk in his office and embraced his brother. Pushing Jim back to arms' length, he eyed him appraisingly. "Whatever you're doing with your life, it agrees with you," he said. "I'd swear, you look ten years younger than when you left."

"I'm happy, Steven. For the first time in my life, I'm happy." Jim knew his words sounded sappy, but they were the truth. He had thought he'd been happy before, but he had been fooling himself. His life had begun the day he met B'layr, ended when B'layr left, and resumed when L'anin had come to Cascade.

"I'm glad." Steven's words were sincere. "You always took the brunt of our father's wrath. You've earned the right to be happy." He paused, walking back around his desk. "So, what can I do for you? I assume you want to make a withdrawal from your trust, or you wouldn't be here."

Jim settled in a chair across from his brother. "I want to buy several bales of high quality wool," he began. "And I'd like to shop around for a few other items while I'm at it."

"I'll make some calls and see about acquiring the wool," Steven said, unruffled by the odd request. "How much do you think you'll need for the other things?"

"I have no idea," Jim admitted. "Do any of your contacts know where to get supplies for spinning and weaving?"

"Spinning and weaving?" Steven stared at his brother. "Like spinning wheels and looms?"

"Yeah, and carding combs, natural plant dyes ... that kind of thing," Jim said, his face perfectly straight.

Steven mentally shook his head. His brother was serious. "I'll make the calls," he promised. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, give me a couple hundred for incidentals and I'll get out of your hair." Jim stood, pushing the chair back. "Oh, and I need the wool and supplies no later than the day after tomorrow."

Steven handed him a credit card. "Take this. It's connected to your account. Use what you need. Where can I contact you when I get the goods?"

"I'll call you," Jim said. As he reached the door, he turned and gazed back at his brother. "Thanks, Steven. This means a lot to me."

~oO0Oo~

The truck bounced along the dirt road, back to the old campsite. Jim was inordinately pleased with his purchases. Some of the items were secreted away to be given as gifts later.

He had four bales of wool from a local rancher. Steven had assured him this was high quality and relatively clean of debris. He also had several sets of carding combs, a compact spinning wheel, and the components for a second loom. Small packets of dried flowers and herbs were guaranteed to make colorful dyes. Jim had been told that fresh plants provided more vivid color, but at this time of year, acquiring the fresh plants was nearly impossible. This would have to do.

As he climbed out of the truck, he was bombarded with one hundred fifty pounds of pregnant elf. B'layr seemed all arms and legs when he wound himself around his soulmate. Not that Jim minded. Not in the least. The warmth of the body pressed to his, the smell of herbs used to wash his hair and the sweat clinging to his skin, were the sweetest sensations Jim could imagine. He buried his face in the wild mane of curls and drank in the scent of home.

When they finally separated, Jim grinned at his mate. "I hope you brought help." He began unloading the bales of wool from the back of the truck, along with the implements for B'layr's craft. He handed the elf the small spinning wheel. "Can't have you carrying anything too heavy."

B'layr looked at the compact device. "This is amazing!" He glanced up, appraising the wool. "I will have much to keep me busy this Cold Time."

"I thought that maybe you could teach some of the other elves the craft as well," Jim suggested. "Help stave off that winter boredom they complain about so much."

"That is a good idea," B'layr agreed. "Undoubtedly, they will be willing to do almost anything to keep busy. Even sex gets old after a while."

Jim's eyes lit up. "You've got to be kidding! Right? Sex ... boring?"

"You have yet to experience the Cold Time," B'layr intoned sagely. He waved a hand, and a dozen more elves emerged from concealment. They doubled up carrying the large bales of wool, with the remaining ones carrying the loom and other supplies. Jim kept one box for himself.

"What is that?" B'layr asked, curious that his mate hadn't mentioned it.

"You'll see when the time comes," Jim answered mysteriously.

B'layr shrugged and started off into the forest. "We have already moved most of our things into the caves," he informed his soulmate. "The snow will come soon, and we needed to be prepared."

"Have the hunters managed to bring in enough food?"

"They are still foraging, but the game has left the area, seeking the warmer climate of lower elevations. L'anin says he believes the Cold Time will start early this season. We must be prepared."

Jim nodded, scenting the air. It was crisp and clear, with the smell of snow floating down from the highest peaks. "I agree. The snows will begin soon. Maybe before the next full moon."

The long march finally reached the winter shelter for the Wolf Tribe. Jim got his first look at the cavern that would serve as his home for the next several months. A bonfire was lit at the opening to keep away the wild animals and warm the stone shelter. A series of smaller caves served as storage areas and auxiliary rooms. It was into one of these that the bales of wool were placed, along with the spinning and weaving equipment.

"Well," Jim said, dusting his hands off on his pants. "I suppose I'd better join the hunters. M'aris wasn't pleased with letting me go to Cascade. It's time I made up for it."

"I will accompany you," B'layr said, tucking the long strip of a soft leather slingshot into his belt and fastening on a small bag of rocks for ammunition. Since the birth of L'anin, the elf never left the safety of the campsite without his weapon.

"No way," Jim protested, laying a hand on B'layr's shoulder and pushing him back. "I can't risk you out there. Not now."

"I do not intend to join the hunt," B'layr clarified. "There are still roots and tubers to collect, as well as a few mushrooms and the last of the berries. I will forage while you join the hunters. I promise I will not go far."

"What's this?" Jim asked, fingering the slingshot.

"It is my protection, just in case," B'layr answered. "There are still bears and wolves in the forest."

"Take L'anin with you."

"He is already out with the hunters," B'layr explained. "I will do well on my own. Do not worry."

"But I do worry," Jim said, pulling his mate back into his embrace. "You're my everything."

"And you are mine," B'layr replied, burrowing his face into Jim's shoulder. "I love that you care so much for me, but I have taken care of myself in these woods for longer than you have been alive, my heart. You must not fret over me, it will distract you."

"Then, please, stay home," Jim begged. He knew he sounded pathetic, but his instincts were strong to protect his mate and his unborn child. His hand stroked firmly up and down B'layr's back, holding him close, comforting.

"I cannot, J'anin. You know we must gather what we can before the ground freezes," the elf insisted. "I will be home before the sun sets. I promise you this."

Jim finally released his love with a sigh. "I can't stop you, I suppose," he said with reluctance.

"That you cannot," B'layr said, filled suddenly with a sprightly energy. He laughed and dodged out of Jim's reach, heading for the mouth of the cave ahead of the Sentry.

The couple parted within a mile of the shelter, with B'layr heading north to an area he knew to be rich in tubers and mushrooms, while Jim headed east to join the hunting group.

By late afternoon, B'layr's carry-sack was nearly full. He found he had wandered east in his foraging and listened to see if he could track the hunting party and his soulmate. A low growl caught his attention. Leaving the sack behind, he moved quietly through the thickets in the direction of the sound. What he saw made his blood run cold.

Jim stood in a small clearing facing off with a large black bear who had not yet gone into hibernation. The man was armed with only a knife, as the Sentry scouts often were, and the rest of the hunting party was nowhere to be seen. At the moment, it appeared to be a standoff, but B'layr knew that if Jim tried to run, he would be caught and mauled in minutes.

Reaching into the bag at his waist, he withdrew a good-sized stone. He pulled the slingshot from his belt and loaded the ammunition into the stretched cup in the middle of the strip of leather. He raised his arm, letting the weapon hang by his side as he made his way through the vegetation and out into the clearing.

Right away, Jim noticed his presence. Distracted, he turned from the bear to wave at his mate. "Go away! Leave! Now!" he hissed. But B'layr stood his ground, holding the slingshot.

He raised the weapon high, rotating it above his head. Faster and faster, the sling gained momentum until, with a snap, B'layr released the stone with deadly accuracy. The missile hit the bear in his left eye.

Enraged, the animal turned toward its attacker. Jim cried out, helpless to stop the carnage. The bear launched itself in B'layr's direction, as the elf loaded another stone and sent it flying. Jim heard the sickening crunch as the stone impacted the animal's skull, breaking it. The bear dropped in its tracks. B'layr hurried over and finished what he'd started with a swift slice of his knife.

Jim approached, still shaking with fear for his beloved. He gathered B'layr into his arms and held on tight, while the lifeblood of the animal seeped into the forest floor. "My God, B'layr.... Oh, my God!"

"Are you all right, my heart?" the elf asked from the strangling comfort of his mate's embrace.

"Am I all right?" Jim's voice was incredulous. "Are you all right?" he countered.

"I am fine."

With the soft admission, the adrenaline began to recede. Returning reason brought anger with it. "That was a goddamned stupid thing to do!" he growled. "You could have been killed!"

"You could have been killed," B'layr countered. "I was the one with the weapon. The others were not here to protect you. Why were you off on your own?" His voice held worried accusation.

"Doing my job, scouting game," Jim answered.

"And you found it, or it found you," B'layr said. Turning to the rapidly cooling carcass, he gestured with his hand. "The meat will feed the tribe for at least a moon, and the skin will make a fine sleeping fur."

"You can't work the leather now," Jim stated, his worry deflected for the time being.

"I can cure it with salts and leave it outside to freeze. When the Thaw comes, I can finish the work." He gestured at the carcass again. "Come, we must find the hunting party and get the kill back to the cave."

~oO0Oo~

The snow came, and soon the entire tribe was holed up in the shelter of the cave. B'layr dragged a bale of wool over near the sleeping furs and began carding, combing the wool between the two paddles to clean and line up the fibers for spinning.

A'mara approached cautiously. The shy elf had stayed pretty much to himself since Jim had come to the tribe, but the Sentry knew him as one-half of a soulmated pair—an elf who had lost his mate to the Great Sickness. He watched as A'mara sat on the furs next to B'layr, taking an interest in what he was doing.

B'layr handed him an extra set of paddles, explaining the process as A'mara tentatively combed the paddles back and forth over the fistful of wool B'layr had given him. The activity sparked interest in the tribe, whose members were already feeling the tug of boredom. Soon, all seven sets of carding paddles were in use as B'layr took his spinning wheel and began to pull a fine yarn from the small clumps of combed wool.

Jim felt a twinge of jealousy, as his mate was surrounded by at least a dozen elves interested in his hobby. He stood on the fringes, watching B'layr talk of spinning and weaving. The jealousy soon subsided, to be replaced with pride. B'layr was in his element. As someone with a valuable skill, who was willing to share his knowledge, the elf had risen above his self-imposed second class status as a mere Bearer to become a Teacher.

He wandered off to the food stores to pick out something for lunch. There had been a huge celebration feast at the first hard snowfall, but in the days since, the elves hadn't eaten. Their metabolism differed radically from Jim's. They tended to eat lightly, their bodies processing every bite to the fullest. As B'layr had once told him, even though they were visually the same, the elves' bodies were geared entirely toward reproduction, not elimination.

His Sentry hearing picked up the muttered grumbling of some members of the tribe. None had realized just how much their new Sentry ate. It amazed and worried them as they watched their winter store of food dwindle at a rapid rate. Jim wasn't nearly as concerned, knowing that he could find replacements even in the scarcity of the Cold Time.

He took his meal and went to sit near the bonfire at the mouth of the cave. The heavy snowfall had stopped, and small flakes drifted lightly down from the steel colored sky. Feeling bored, Jim wrapped himself in furs after his lunch and went outside into the pristine whiteness of the forest. A few yards from the mouth of the cave, he began pushing a snowball along the ground, its ever-growing girth clearing a path through the drifts.

When he could no longer move the small mountain of snow, he started on another, stopping when it was about two-thirds the size of the first ball, and rolled it on top of the larger base. The final snowball was small enough for him to lift and place on the stack. As he looked around for appropriate appendages for his creation, he noticed he had acquired an audience. In the forefront of the curious group was his own soulmate.

"What do you think you are doing?" B'layr asked, approaching his mate.

Jim found some likely looking twigs, sticking them into the middle ball to form the arms. A pine cone nose and a few pebbles for eyes and mouth finished his creation. "It's called a 'snowman'," he told the amused elf.

"And its purpose?" B'layr quizzed.

"No purpose," Jim admitted. "It was just for fun."

B'layr shook his head. "I do not understand all the things you do, J'anin, but I will love you in spite of it."

"Have you ever played in the snow?" Jim wondered. "Made a snow angel?"

"Snow angel?" B'layr looked puzzled.

Jim found a fresh pile of snow and dropped backward into the drift. Waving his arms up and down, and his feet back and forth, he troweled a shape in the snow. When he was finished, he held out a hand. "Help me up?" When B'layr had helped pull him to his feet, what remained in the snow was the outline of an angel. "See the head?" He pointed. "And the wings? And the skirt?"

"I do not understand the concept of angels," B'layr admitted, "but what you did looks like fun. May I try?"

Jim was delighted. He helped lower his pregnant mate onto the snow bank, then coached him into the right moves. Giving B'layr a hand up, they admired the angel the elf had created.

"That's not all you can do," Jim said, bending to pick up a handful of snow and pack it into a loose ball. With a playful grin, he launched the white missile at B'layr's shoulder.

"Hey! What was that?" the startled elf asked.

"It's called a snowball, and this is a snowball fight!" He launched another at his mate.

B'layr bent over to scoop up his own handful of snow and pack it as he had seen Jim do. His throw was strong and straight, the ball hitting his mate squarely in the chest.

Jim's next snowball missed B'layr and went sailing into one of the other elves who stood watching the spectacle. Soon a free-for-all broke out, with a dozen laughing voices all shouting at once as they were pelted with the cold, wet snow.

Finally, tired from the exercise and the cold, B'layr excused himself to go inside. He sat huddled on the furs, shivering. Jim approached and knelt down beside him. "You need to warm up." B'layr nodded but sat still, as though he didn't have the energy left to help himself.

Jim stripped him of the wet clothes and lowered him to the furs. He covered the shaking body with a heavy pelt and sat next to B'layr, stroking his forehead. When the elf showed no sign of warming, Jim stripped and crawled under the cover, spooning his body around B'layr's.

The next morning, Jim was concerned when the body nestled next to his seemed overly warm. He rolled B'layr onto his back, using his sensitive touch to determine the extent of the fever. His mate's eyes were glassy and unfocused, his entire body coated in a sheen of sweat.

"Sire?" L'anin approached the sleeping furs of his parents, dropping to his knees beside his Bearer. He raised his eyes to Jim, questioning.

"B'layr got chilled yesterday playing in the snow," he answered with regret. "Now he is ill." The patient moaned, and Jim brushed sweat-matted hair away from his face. He looked up at his son. "Could you bring me an infusion of those leaves that bring down fever?"

L'anin rose gracefully and went to check the stores of medicine. Taking a cup, he melted some snow and then boiled the water with the leaves, straining the concoction once the water had turned a rich green. Adding a bit more snow to cool the drink, he carried it over to his Sire.

Jim lifted B'layr's head and pressed the cup to his mouth. His lips parted as he drank the warm liquid, choking slightly when he couldn't swallow fast enough. Jim pulled the cup away and wiped the tea from B'layr's chin, handing it off to L'anin. He watched as his soulmate began to shake, goose bumps forming on the exposed skin despite the continued fever.

Pulling the fur blanket up to their chins, Jim curled around his mate again, wrapping arms and legs around the trembling form. For the next two days, Jim never left B'layr's side, except to relieve himself. L'anin dutifully brought the herbal tea several times a day, as well as food for his Sire.

On the morning of the third day, the fever broke. B'layr was drenched in sweat and began pushing Jim away. Climbing out of their bed, Jim dressed quickly and began warming water to wash down the body of his mate.

Peeling back the blanket, he gently wiped down the naked body. His hands paused over the growing mound of B'layr's belly. Warm hands covered his, and he turned to see B'layr smiling at him.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized, gazing into the forgiving blue eyes. "I had no idea you were so susceptible to the cold."

"I had a good time," B'layr assured him. "Do not take on guilt that does not belong to you. I chose to play. It was fun." His smile lit up his face. "Life during the Cold Time has not been dull since J'anin joined the tribe." He reached up to caress Jim's face.

Embarrassed, Jim turned away, concentrating on the bathing. When he had finished wiping down the precious body, he covered it again with a lighter fur. "Comfortable?"

"Yes, my heart. Thank you."

Another two days of being pampered by his mate was all B'layr could stand. Asserting himself, he climbed out of bed, returning to his carding and spinning. The elves he had been teaching had worked much of the first bale of wool while he had been ill. A'mara had a natural talent for spinning, so soon the two wheels were singing again.

Jim walked over and draped a fur over the naked shoulders. "You need to stay warm."

"The cave is very warm," B'layr pointed out. "Clothing is too binding now. So long as I do not go out in the snow again, there is no reason to dress." His actions with the spinning caused the draped fur to slip off his shoulders and pool around his hips on the floor. Jim bent to pick it up, then shrugged, and left it where it fell.

~oO0Oo~

Jim wriggled his way out of the furs early. He had been marking the days since his return from Cascade, and today was Christmas. He dressed quickly, heading for the back room of the cave where he had secreted his special box. He lifted out the brightly colored packages and headed back to where B'layr had just awakened.

"What is this?" the elf asked, looking at the garish colors that stood out like neon against the dullness of the cave. He pulled himself into a tailor-sit, not an easy task now that his belly protruded like a melon onto his lap.

Jim handed one of the packages to him. "It's Christmas," he said, by way of explanation. "A special holiday where we exchange gifts with our loved ones," he added at B'layr's blank look.

"I have no gift for you." B'layr looked at the colorful package in his hands.

"Yes, you do." Jim rested a palm against the pregnant belly. "I just don't get to unwrap it for another six moons."

B'layr chuckled, tearing into the wrapping on the large package. Colorful cloth fell at his feet. Not just cloth, he noticed as he looked through it—his maternity clothes from when he had lived in Cascade, pregnant with L'anin.... Just as he had outgrown his leather breeches, he now had denim overalls, a "Baby on Board" T-shirt, and a collection of dresses, including the dark green velvet number he had worn only once, to the concert to which Jim had treated him.

"Oh, Jim!" It was far more difficult now to throw himself at his mate, but he made the effort, wrapping long arms around Jim's neck. "You kept them? Why?"

"They were all I had left of you," Jim admitted sheepishly. "They smelled of you for a long time after you had returned to the forest. When I went into the city for the wool and supplies, I remembered them and figured you'd need them right about now."

"They are perfect!" There were tears in B'layr's eyes. "I can't believe you kept them," he whispered, fingering the cloth.

Jim picked up the pink Baby on Board T-shirt and pulled it over B'layr's head, causing his curls to dance as they sprang free of the snug neckline. B'layr wound his arms through the sleeves, then stood to put on a pair of the overalls.

"Looking sharp there, Imp," Jim said with a chuckle. When B'layr sat back down, he handed over a much smaller package.

"What is this?"

"Open it."

B'layr picked at the paper, pulling at it carefully, savoring the surprise. A half dozen little envelopes fell into his hands when he finally got the wrapping off. He looked down at the packets, up at Jim, then back to the packets, a large grin spreading slowly over his features.

"You enjoyed the tomatoes so much when you lived with me in Cascade, I thought you might like growing your own."

Despite the effort of moving his growing bulk, B'layr launched himself at his soulmate, flattening Jim onto the furs. When Jim was finally able to speak after the flurry of kisses, he managed to gasp out, "You won't be able to harvest any until late this high up. Might be late August or September."

"But I'll have the red fruit again!" B'layr was bouncing on Jim's lap. "This is the best gift ever!"

"Oooofff! Okay, okay!" Jim conceded, gently pushing the excited elf off his abused lap and back onto the furs. "I'm really glad you like the presents. Is L'anin up yet?"

"I saw him go back to the pantry," B'layr admitted. "I think the Elders are worried about the food supply. They don't think it will last until the Thaw."

"Because of me." It was not a question. Jim knew that he was looked upon as a glutton by many of the elves who did not understand the differences in their physiology. "I will have to go out and hunt soon."

"But not today." B'layr rested a hand on Jim's shoulder. "Today is a day for family. The hunt can wait." He lifted his free arm and waved to L'anin, who had just emerged from the back of the main cavern.

A few long strides and the young elf stood before his parents. "Mother?" L'anin seated himself next to his Bearer, eyeing B'layr up and down.

"A gift from your Sire," B'layr explained. "These are the clothes I wore during the last moons that I was pregnant with you. And, look!" He excitedly held up the seed packets. "Red fruits! I had such a time finding edible food in the city, but these were like nectar from the gods. Come the next Hot Time, we will feast!"

L'anin took the packets and looked them over, then picked through the pile of clothing. "These are like the one you gave me," he said, holding up the cotton dresses. "They are very comfortable."

"B'layr needs them right now," Jim explained. "They're the only thing roomy enough to cover him."

"I do not covet my mother's gifts," L'anin stated, putting the dresses back. "I am happy for him."

"I have something for you, too." Jim reached behind himself to pull out another brightly wrapped package, handing it to his son. "Go on, open it," he prodded, when the elf just stared.

Finding a slight tear in the paper, L'anin ripped into the package, discarding the wrapping like a typical child. Lifting the lid off the box inside, he stared down at the black and white marble checkered playing board. To either side of the board were ornately carved marble playing pieces: sixteen black and sixteen white. He picked up one of the pieces to examine.

"That's a knight," Jim explained. "The game is called chess. It's a game of strategy. Each different type of piece has a different power and different ways of moving across the board. The object is to capture your opponent's king while keeping your own king safe. I'll teach it to you and then you can teach your friends." Jim watched as his son continued to pick up the different pieces, examining each new one with fascination. "Played properly, a single game can take hours. You can even have tournaments," he continued, gesturing toward the board. "After a game, the next player challenges the winner of the match, until everyone has played. The one remaining becomes the champion."

"This will help the time pass," L'anin said. He looked up and smiled at his father. "Thank you, Sire. I look forward to learning the game. Can you teach me now?"

"In a minute," Jim said. "I have something else to give you." He removed the gold ring with the pale green stone and handed it to his son. "B'layr gave this to me when we first met. Now it is time to pass it to you. This ring has been in B'layr's family for many generations, each owner giving the ring to their soulmate, and then to the firstborn." L'anin took the gem and placed it on his finger, admiring the pale spring green of the stone that promised the renewal of life.

"M'aris told me about the Grand Gathering of the elf tribes after the Thaw. Perhaps you will find your life's mate there."

"I am still many Turns-of-Seasons too young," L'anin whispered. "But I will treasure this gift and keep it safe until the time comes that I must pass it on. Thank you." In a much more subdued fashion than that of his Bearer, L'anin wrapped his long arms around his Sire and hugged him. Jim returned the gesture, adding an affectionate pat on the back after the tight squeeze.

"Let me show you how to play chess." Jim lifted the board from the box and began setting up the pieces, explaining the placement and movement of each as he did so. A small crowd began to gather around the father and son, watching in fascination.

B'layr grinned. Despite the occasional mutterings about how much the new Sentry ate, the Wolf Tribe had benefited greatly from Jim's arrival. The moments of boredom during this Cold Time had been minimal. He wandered over to his wheel and began to spin.

~oO0Oo~

"Take care." B'layr wrapped another fur around Jim's shoulders, fastening it with a leather thong. "Return to me on ravens' wings."

Jim bent down to kiss his soulmate. He hated leaving, but it was necessary to replenish the supplies that his metabolism had depleted. "I'll be careful. Believe me, I don't want to be parted from you longer than is necessary." He laid a hand on the full, round belly. "You take care. Don't do anything strenuous. You look like you could pop any day now."

"I have yet another five moons before the birth," B'layr reminded him. "Nothing will happen while you are away."

"See to it that it doesn't," Jim scolded, leaning down for one last kiss before he marched off into the frozen wilderness.

He had left before the sunrise. Scouting for game was difficult during the Cold Time, as many of the animals they hunted had moved to lower elevations. But, as the sun was setting, he found himself returning with a large buck and a brace of snowshoe rabbits for the pantry.

His return was met with rejoicing on the part of the hungry tribe. The rabbits were skinned and spitted over the fire, while another group of elves prepared the venison for storage. Their meager collection of tubers and nuts were brought out, and the elves had a celebratory feast.

"Come." B'layr had stretched out on the furs, naked and content for the moment. He patted their bed, indicating he wanted his soulmate to join him. "Life has been so busy," he lamented. "We barely have time for the Blessing anymore. Do you remember how you used to like to lie across my lap and listen to L'anin before he was born?"

Jim's grin widened, as he stroked a hand over the mound of B'layr's belly. "Yeah, I do." He shifted slightly, then reclined, resting his head over his mate's navel. His smile faded as he concentrated on the sounds.

"Jim?" B'layr looked concerned. "What is the matter? Do you hear something wrong?"

He listened a moment longer, then sat up and smiled broadly. "No. Nothing wrong," he admitted. "You're having twins!"

"Twins?" B'layr's face was a blank expression of non-comprehension.

"Twins," Jim confirmed. "Two babies. I heard two heartbeats."

"Mine and the child's," B'layr corrected.

"No." Jim shook his head. "Yours, and two others. You're having twins! That's why you're already so huge."

"That is not possible," B'layr argued. "Elves do not birth two at once. It does not happen."

"Well, it's happening this time," Jim insisted. He waved L'anin over. "Listen." He pointed to B'layr's distended abdomen.

L'anin placed an ear against the taut skin and listened intently. "There are two." His voice was hushed with awe. "In all of elven lore, there have never been two."

In the tight confines of the cave, the news traveled quickly. M'aris arrived with K'tan, the tribe's Shaman and Healer. K'tan knelt beside the pregnant elf and, without even asking permission, began a firm kneading of B'layr's abdomen. It was obvious to Jim that the examination hurt. He flung out an arm to stop the Healer.

"No! That isn't necessary. Take the word of both your Sentries, there are two children in there."

M'aris pulled Jim away, while K'tan continued his exam. "It is necessary, Sentry. The Healer must know what he is dealing with when it comes time for B'layr to give birth. If there are any complications, K'tan wants to make certain that both elflings survive."

"He's hurting B'layr!" Jim twisted in the Chieftain's grasp, freeing himself. He reached out to grasp B'layr's questing hand, pulling their combined fists to his chest, over his heart. "It's all right, Sweetheart. It's going to be all right." As he stroked a hand across the perspiring forehead, he turned to glare at the Healer.

"I am fine," B'layr gasped, sounding anything but. He attempted a smile, but it came across more as a grimace of pain.

Jim was about to stop the torture once and for all, when K'tan turned to the soulmates. "There are two elflings in your womb. You have truly been richly Blessed, Bearer of Sentries. When your birthing time comes, the Wolf Tribe will see a spectacle the likes of which no tribe has ever witnessed before." He stood and walked off, followed by the Chieftain, leaving the little family alone once more.

"Spectacle?" Jim asked, not liking the sound of the word in connection with B'layr giving birth.

"Yes, my heart. As the Blessing was public, so shall be the birth," B'layr explained. He rolled onto his side with some effort, reaching out for Jim. "I still cannot believe I carry two." Tears welled in the deep blue eyes. "I fear I cannot birth them both," he sniffed. "I had such a hard time with L'anin. I cannot imagine two." The tears finally spilled over, running in twin trails down his cheeks. Jim stretched out next to him, gathering the distraught elf into his arms.

"You'll do fine, Sweetheart," he soothed. "Don't worry about it now. Concentrate on staying healthy and raising two fine children. You know I'll be there when the time comes. Together, we can do anything." He held on tightly as B'layr burrowed into his embrace, crying out the remainder of his tears before falling asleep.

Part Four: The Birthing

"Make love to me."

"What?" Jim rolled over in the sleeping furs and looked at his mate as though the elf had lost his mind. Since the discovery that B'layr was bearing twins, he had grown exponentially in size over the intervening two moons. He couldn't even get off the furs without the help of his mate or his son.

"I need you to make love to me," B'layr repeated. "Now that the Thaw has come, the tribe will be moving back to its summer campground. Shortly after, we will migrate to the gathering place. This may well be our last chance, before the—the..." he sighed, "...birth."

"You're still worried." Jim stroked his hand over the considerable mound of B'layr's abdomen. "The pregnancy hasn't given you any trouble. Why do you fear the birth so much? The second time is always easier, or so I've heard."

"I do not know, other than the difficulty I had with L'anin." B'layr fluttered a hand above his head. "It's like some premonition or something," he said. "I do not believe I will survive this birthing."

"That's nonsense! You'll not only survive, you'll go on to bear many more children."

The statement caused the nervous elf to chuckle. "That is assuming you continue to be able to sire them," he teased.

"You have a pretty smart mouth for an elf that looks like he could explode any day now," Jim retorted.

B'layr sobered again. "Jim, please," he said, reaching out to cradle Jim's hands. "Please make love to me."

Jim's eyes closed for a long moment, then he opened them and smiled at his mate. "I never could resist your charms." He leaned down to capture the willing mouth, tasting the sweetness of his lover as their tongues battled for dominance.

Leaving B'layr breathless and panting, Jim shifted to his backside, not wanting to make the elf endure having to turn over. He wrapped his arms around his mate, holding him in a loose embrace as his cock breached the ready opening and slid inside. His strokes were long and slow, gentle and sensitive to B'layr's delicate condition.

The elf moaned out his pleasure. So little felt good these days. He had even outgrown the maternity clothes Jim had given him for Christmas. Now there was only discomfort and clumsiness, except in the act of love.

As Jim neared his climax, he plunged deeply into the hot channel and ceased all movement. The sensation of being sheathed fully in his love was amazing. To judge by B'layr's contented sounds, the elf also enjoyed just being joined to and filled by his lover.

The feeling built until neither could stand the pleasure a moment longer. B'layr pushed back with his hips, just as Jim thrust inward, his orgasm washing over him in heated bliss. A strangled cry escaped his throat before he collapsed on top of the elf, sated and content. They dozed a while longer, until Jim's softening cock finally slipped free of its own accord. B'layr moaned the loss and attempted to roll over.

"Hey, Imp. None of that," Jim scolded. "Remember what the Healer said. You shouldn't be on your back at all anymore. Let me help you up." Unmindful of his own nudity, Jim stood and offered both hands to pull B'layr off the furs. Once he had the elf standing, he slipped into his breeches and shirt. "I promised M'aris I'd scout for game today," he told his mate. "Will you be weaving?"

"Yes, until it is time to move out, or I have finished the blanket."

"You're almost done now, aren't you?" Jim asked, looking over at the loom, which was nearly filled with a colorful woven cloth.

"No more than a day's work to finish," B'layr agreed. He allowed Jim to walk him over to his work area and assist him to sit on the pile of furs in front of the loom. "Take care. I do not like it when you are gone."

"You still have three moons before the birth," Jim reminded him, in hopes of staving off the worry.

B'layr nodded. "I am aware of that, but I need you near." He sighed. "You are Senior Sentry, and as such you belong to the tribe. I can manage a day without you. Now go, before I change my mind and beg you to stay."

Jim shook his head and squatted down next to the elf. "Look, B'layr. If you need me here, I'll stay. Nothing is as important to me as you ... the tribe be damned."

"Hush!" B'layr hissed. "Do not speak so! I will be fine," he continued in a more normal voice. "Go now."

Jim leaned down to kiss the bowed forehead and then turned to leave, unable to look back. It was as difficult for him to go as it was for B'layr to allow it. With determined strides, he joined the hunting party outside the mouth of the cave.

~oO0Oo~

B'layr leaned heavily against his soulmate as they trudged the forest path to the place of Gathering. L'anin flanked his mother on the opposite side, neither father nor son wanting to take chances with the overripe Bearer. B'layr sagged between them, exhausted.

"May we stop? I cannot go on right now," he panted.

Jim and L'anin maneuvered the pregnant elf off the path, settling him in a patch of ferns. "How much farther is it to this place?" Jim wondered.

"At least another day's walk," L'anin supplied. "Longer, if Mother continues to need frequent stops." He knelt in front of his Bearer. "Mother?" He stroked the tired face with long fingers. "Will you be able to go on?"

B'layr nodded. "Yes. Soon." He looked up at his son, feeling sorrow that he was the cause of such worry to his family.

"He shouldn't be walking this much at all," Jim snorted. "Whose smart-assed idea was it, anyway, to have this gathering of the elf tribes so near to B'layr's due date?"

The elf in question looked up at his mate. "The decision was made at the last Gathering, ten Turns-of-Seasons ago. We have no Seer. That I am pregnant now is just a grand coincidence."

Jim shook his head. "Coincidence or not, you shouldn't be exerting yourself this much." He looked around, an idea suddenly forming. "L'anin, stay with your mother. I won't be gone long."

Before either mate or son could respond, Jim took off into the forest. A short time later, he reappeared, dragging three substantial branches. "We're going to build a travois," he announced. He cut the leggings off his breeches and began cutting long strips of leather with his knife. Once he had a sufficient supply, he showed L'anin how to lash the branches together to form a long, slender A-shape. "May I?" He leaned over his mate to unwrap the colorful blanket from around his naked shoulders. B'layr watched in fascination as the leather strips were used to fasten the blanket tautly over the frame.

Once finished, Jim helped his soulmate to recline on the device. He and L'anin each took hold of one of the crossed branches and began to pull the contraption over the trail. It was not the smoothest ride, but B'layr was grateful for his mate's insight. He was not certain he could have walked another day's journey to the gathering place.

When they finally arrived at the large alpine meadow, Jim was amazed at the number of elves gathered. To think, a race of creatures largely unknown to mankind had lived in these woods for untold centuries, barely leaving a mark on the environment.

There was a large bonfire in the central area, along with a fur-covered platform for ceremonies. The camps of the elves dotted the meadow around the central fire. Portable shelters had been set up, and cooking fires crackled. M'aris approached and led the small party back to where the Wolf Tribe had set up their camp.

"Welcome! We had feared you might not make it to the Gathering," the Chieftain greeted them.

"There was no way B'layr was missing this event," Jim replied with a chuckle. "He would have been here if he had to crawl."

"I almost did," B'layr said with a grin, struggling to remove himself from the travois. L'anin left Jim to bear the weight, while he walked around and pulled his mother from the device. Jim made swift work of taking the travois apart and draping the blanket back over his naked soulmate. B'layr pulled the blanket around him and shivered slightly in the cool evening air.

"Come, join us at our fire," M'aris insisted. He and K'tan were camped together and welcomed the little family to their tent. Two Sentries and the Bearer ... the Wolf Tribe had risen to the top in the politics of the combined tribes.

M'aris cleared his throat and looked at the newcomers. "The Council of Chieftains met before your arrival," he began. "For a Gathering of this magnitude, we will need a large hunting party. It was requested the Senior Sentry accompany the party as the scout."

"Sir, I'd rather not leave B'layr. He may still be nearly two moons away from the birth, but I'm not willing to take any chances." Jim's tone was respectful, but firm. "L'anin could go in my place."

"I'm afraid it is not negotiable," M'aris told him. "The Chieftains want the Senior Sentry. No substitute will do." He nodded an apology toward L'anin. "No disrespect meant, Sentry, but your Sire's skills were requested."

"Understandable," L'anin agreed. Turning to his father, he said, "Sire, this is a great honor; especially for a man to be offered this position. I will watch over and protect B'layr while you are gone. I will let no harm come to him."

"I understand the honor given to me," Jim explained, "but I still must respectfully decline. B'layr is pregnant with twins—he could go into labor early. I can't afford to leave him now."

B'layr rocked forward and reached for Jim's arm. "I am fine, my heart. Do not turn down this position. It would look bad for you, for me, for the entire Wolf Tribe. L'anin dotes on me almost as much as you do. Do not fear, all will be right. When you come back, triumphant, we shall celebrate." The twinkle in his eye indicated that B'layr's idea of celebrating included more than simple feasting.

"I don't know..." Jim hedged. Despite the reassurances, he hated going out. "This will be a day party?"

M'aris shook his head. "The hunting party could be gone for a quarter moon. Much is needed to feed a Gathering of this size."

"A quarter moon? Seven suns?" Jim looked startled. A week? An entire week? He couldn't be gone that long.

"A short while, merely the blink of an eye," B'layr assured him, "in the overall scheme of things. Do not fret. I am in capable hands." He reached out to squeeze L'anin's hand and hold on tight.

Jim sighed. He was being kicked out, despite his own strong reservations. He took one last, long look at his soulmate and son, and then turned back to the Chieftain. "I appear to be outnumbered. When does this hunting party leave?"

"At first light, tomorrow."

~oO0Oo~

The hunting party had been gone four suns. B'layr looked out from his sleeping furs in the direction his soulmate had left. The past two days, he had felt the tightening of his belly—painful cramps that came and went at regular intervals. He tried to hide his discomfort from L'anin and the Healer, but they knew his time, despite being premature, was upon them.

"Mother," L'anin whispered in B'layr's ear. He patted at the sweat-glossed face with a rag dipped in cool water. "It is time."

"No," B'layr hissed through clenched teeth. "J'anin is not yet home. I cannot, not without him."

L'anin's hand rested over the distended abdomen. "The contractions come more quickly and last longer," he stated.

The reminder was unnecessary to B'layr, who counted each cramp and its timing, breathing through the worst of the pain. "Must wait," he panted.

"No, Mother. You can wait no longer," L'anin insisted. "Come now, or have the babies here."

"Help me!" B'layr sobbed. "By the gods, I need J'anin."

"He will come," L'anin assured his Bearer. "Now, you must come."

Several sets of arms appeared to help boost the suffering elf to his feet. B'layr made his way slowly toward the birthing platform set up for his use. Barely out of their camp, he stumbled, pitching forward. L'anin and K'tan bore the weight, catching him and carrying him the rest of the way.

When they reached the platform, L'anin removed the blanket from B'layr's shoulders and helped him up the short flight of stairs. The elf dropped to his hands and knees on the furs, rocking through a contraction with his head bowed. When the cramp finally released its hold, he looked up at his son. "You must bring J'anin home," he pleaded.

"I promised to watch over you," L'anin insisted. "My Sire would be angry if I left you."

"Your Sire would be more than angry to come home to the news of my death," his Bearer argued back. "Go!"

L'anin took one last discerning look at his Bearer, stroking a hand down the sagging back. "I will bring him," he promised.

As his son left him, B'layr squeezed his eyes shut against the tears. The cramps were coming quickly, only minutes apart, and his meager reserve of strength was already nearly depleted.

K'tan approached, running his hands appraisingly over the gravid form of the naked body on the platform. He grazed a hand gently over one firm teat, feeling the leakage of milk that signaled the imminence of the birth. "Not long now, Bearer," he said.

B'layr moaned as another contraction rocked his body. Sweat glistened on his skin. He tried his best to be strong. This would be the most public of deliveries, in front of the entire Ten Tribes. Already, a small crowd had begun to gather in anticipation of the miraculous bearing of twins.

The sun set and rose, and still L'anin had not returned with his soulmate. The contractions overlapped in frequency and duration, giving the elf no chance to catch his breath. He had collapsed onto his side, no longer able to even support himself on hands and knees. He was curled in on himself, as much as his bulk would allow. Eyes closed, tears leaked from beneath the lids as low groans escaped his lips.

"It is time, Bearer," K'tan intoned. "You must push the elflings out."

"I cannot," B'layr gasped, barely able to form the words.

"You must, or I will be forced to cut them from your womb."

"No! Please..." B'layr groaned. "J'anin is coming."

"I do not wish to lose the Bearer," K'tan said with regret. "But if you cannot birth the elflings, then I will be forced to do what I must."

"I cannot!" The cry was ripped from the exhausted elf on the next contraction. Try as he might, he could not summon the strength necessary to push.

"I am sorry," K'tan said. "I truly do not wish to lose you." He turned from the platform and walked back to the camp he shared with M'aris. He sorted through the leaves and berries in his medicine bag, extracting the right combination, then steeping them into a strong tea.

He brought the concoction to his patient, urging him to drink. "This will dull your pain," K'tan explained. "You may feel sleepy. If you do, do not fight. This is for the best."

B'layr swallowed the bitter liquid, desperate for any form of relief. As the narcotic effects of the tea began to take hold, K'tan raised the ceremonial knife, prepared to cut the infants from the womb.

The blade had nicked the taut skin below the navel when a voice rang out. "Stop!"

Startled, K'tan dropped the blade and turned around. Jim and L'anin came crashing through the shrubs, running full speed toward the birthing platform. The gathered elves parted to give the Sentry a path to his soulmate.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jim yelled at the Healer. He swept the knife into the crowd of onlookers, well out of the grasp of the elf prepared to use it.

"B'layr cannot birth the elflings by himself. He has lost too much strength. The choice is to lose the Bearer or lose all three," K'tan explained. "The latter is not acceptable."

"Neither is the former!" Jim pushed the Shaman/Healer away from his beloved and knelt on the platform. He lifted B'layr's head and began patting his cheeks. "B'layr? B'layr! Wake up, Sweetheart, my soul. Please!" B'layr stirred and opened unfocused eyes. "Yes, yes," Jim crooned. "Now, Baby, you're going to have to help us. Please. We're going to get these babies out ... just like before. Remember? Remember, B'layr?" The heavy head nodded, and B'layr seemed to rally.

"L'anin ... I need you here," Jim commanded, patting the platform above B'layr's head. "You're going to have to help this time. Your Bearer can't do this himself. It's this, or they all die." He turned a stern look on the Healer and the Chieftain. In his heart, he knew that if all was lost, he would do what he had to in order to save his children, but he didn't want to consider that option, and he didn't want his tribe leaders to consider it, either.

L'anin positioned himself near B'layr's head and looked up at his Sire. "You're going to have to pull B'layr into your lap," Jim instructed. "Rest his head on your shoulder, his back against your chest."

The young Sentry did as he was told, pulling B'layr up into his lap. "Now," Jim continued. "Use those Sentry hands of yours to detect the next contraction." He helped L'anin place his hands correctly near the top of the uterus. "When the contraction starts, I want you to press in and down, as hard as you can, until the contraction stops. Understand?" His son nodded.

Jim pushed B'layr's knees up, legs spread wide, and positioned himself between them. A grunt of effort told him the contraction had begun; his son was pushing in lieu of his Bearer's own efforts. Jim took a deep breath to brace himself, then began the slow entrance of his hand and arm into the birth canal. Thanks to the barbiturate K'tan had given his mate, B'layr was completely relaxed, not protesting the painful invasion of his body.

He could feel the head of the first baby making its way down. The skull was so tiny, he could wrap his fingers around it. With great care, he helped ease the elfling down the canal. On the next contraction, Jim withdrew his arm, waiting until the small head appeared at the opening. A gentle tug and twist of the shoulder, and the baby came free.

A cheer rose up from the onlookers. Jim turned and growled at them. This was life or death. His family's life or death. It was not a spectacle to be ogled; it was not some dinner show. He considered the way the elves treated conception and birth as a public event to be barbaric in the extreme. He wanted the voyeurs gone.

His wants and needs were temporarily set aside as another contraction rippled across the distended abdomen. L'anin was pushing again. Once again, he invaded B'layr's body to guide the child down the birth canal. Only, he couldn't feel anything. The contraction ended, and still there was no sign of the baby. He pulled out. Placing his hands on B'layr's belly, he palpated it gently, feeling externally for the stubborn elfling.

The reluctant child was still high in the uterus, unable, for some reason, to descend. Jim looked out over his audience and roared. "Leave this place. Now!"

M'aris approached the platform, speaking softly. "It is our way that the birthing is a public event. These elves do no wrong being here."

"Damn your ways!" Jim shouted. "Make them leave! This is my family ... my traditions!" He broke down in a sob. More quietly he turned his pleading to the Healer. "K'tan ... if I must lose him, it should be a private thing. God, please leave me to deal with this my way."

K'tan nodded and began herding the reluctant audience back to the edge of the clearing. The Healer returned to stand next to M'aris. "The tribes await nearby, but we alone will witness the birth. Does that satisfy you?"

Jim gave the elves a curt nod, turning to the Healer once more. "That knife you were about to use... Could you find it and sterilize it for me?"

K'tan held up the blade. "If you are to save the lastborn, you must use it now, as is."

"But..." Jim stuttered, taking the blade.

Softly, with great sadness, K'tan finished his thought. "Does it really matter?"

Jim shook his head. With tears nearly blinding him, he looked up at his firstborn son. "L'anin, leave us. You can be of no more help, and I don't wish you to see the death of your m-mother."

L'anin nodded and left the platform, but he could not abandon his family. He stood with the Chieftain and Healer to watch his Sire.

B'layr appeared to be unconscious, oblivious to the emotions swirling around him. Jim stretched up to brush away the damp tendrils of hair from his face. Leaning down, he pressed his lips against the unresponsive ones of his mate. "I love you, B'layr, my soul. Forgive me. Please, forgive me." He got no response.

Moving back between the spread legs, he placed the tip of the knife just above the genitals, making a transverse cut across the pubic area, slicing through fatty tissue and muscle on the way to the uterus. There was no bladder to contend with. For once, Jim was grateful for the differences in their anatomy.

It had been years since his medic training, and Jim had only watched a film on Caesarean sections. He had never seen one actually performed. It wasn't the kind of medical knowledge generally needed by the Army, he thought ruefully. He made the cut through the wall of the uterus with his right hand, while his left continued to monitor the position of the remaining child. Finally, the opening was large enough to admit his hand. He reached in to bring out the stubborn child, only to find the umbilical cord was wrapped around the small body, preventing movement.

With utmost care, his sensitive fingers unraveled the tangle through touch alone, finally allowing him to ease the elfling out into the light of the late afternoon. He cleared the airway, giving the quiet child a couple gentle puffs of air into her tiny lungs. She let out a tremendous wail, and a cheer went up from the assembled tribes.

"A female!" K'tan cried as the child was handed off. Suddenly, the small group was surrounded once more, everyone gawking over the impossible.... "Legend tells of a Bearer Elf, who will be born of the Sentries—who will need no soulmate to bear young, and will repopulate the tribes."

Jim took no notice of the excitement surrounding him. He picked up the unconscious body of his beloved and made his way back to their tent. Rummaging in K'tan's medical supplies, he found rudimentary means of binding the deep cuts and staunching the flow of blood. Once he had done all he could, he took B'layr to their sleeping furs and curled up around him, protectively. He buried his face in the mass of damp curls and cried himself to sleep.

Part Five: New Traditions

"How is he?"

Jim looked up into the blue-green eyes of his son. "No change." For the past three days, B'layr had remained unconscious, spiking a low fever on the morning of the second day. Jim had remained curled around his soulmate in their sleeping furs, unwilling to leave.

"The elflings need to be fed," L'anin whispered, crouching down to be more on a level with his Sire. He brushed a hand through the long, sweat-matted curls of his Bearer. "He looks so peaceful."

"He's not suffering." Jim leaned down to kiss the unresponsive lips. Pulling away, he looked up at his son. "Bring them."

At his consent, K'tan entered the tent, one twin cradled in each arm. Jim reached for his precious daughter, putting her small mouth next to one leaking nipple. He cradled his child and his love, watching the elfling nurse enthusiastically. When she finally released the nipple, Jim accepted the other twin, placing him at the other teat.

"Oh, B'layr ... Sweetheart. I wish you could see this," Jim moaned. "Two beautiful children you've given us. Please, please wake up." He took solace in the fact that B'layr was still with him. At least the elf had had the strength to hang onto life. But was he in a coma, or merely sleeping? When would he wake? It was the Bearer's privilege to name the newborn. As yet, their children were not christened. But none of that mattered to Jim—only that B'layr yet lived. Where there was life, there was hope.

A soft gasp shook him from his thoughts. He focused on his soulmate and felt a tremor of excitement as he saw the blue eyes gazing back at him. "B'layr? Sweetheart?" He reached out a tentative hand to touch the precious face, afraid he was hallucinating.

B'layr's arms curled around the child at his breast. He tilted his head up, smiling at his mate. "Both?" he whispered.

"Yes," Jim confirmed. "We birthed them both. Our daughter has already fed."

"Daughter?" The word came out as a soft, strangled sound.

Jim nodded, stroking his beloved's face. "She's very beautiful. Just like her Bearer. But you need to rest now," he said, taking their son from his feeding. "You've done enough."

"But..."

"No 'buts', my soul," Jim chided. "You'll hear the whole tale later. Are you hungry?" B'layr nodded, and Jim gestured to L'anin, who scooted away to find something for his Bearer to eat. "I was so worried about you," he confessed, once they were alone again. "I thought for sure I was going to lose you."

B'layr shook his head. "No, my heart. I cannot leave you yet. It is not my time."

L'anin returned with a bowl of savory stew laced with tender chunks of meat and fresh vegetables. Jim helped B'layr to sit, noticing the wince of pain on the elf's face. "Tell me why I hurt," he demanded, taking a sip of the broth.

"Our son was born much as L'anin was," Jim began, "but there was a problem with our daughter. When she wouldn't descend into the birth canal, I was forced to cut into your womb to take her out. The umbilical cord was wrapped around her, preventing a normal birth. But she survived.... It was you who worried me." He stroked B'layr's cheek, gazing lovingly into the intense blue eyes that watched him. "K'tan was not equipped to close such deep wounds. Apparently, if a child must be cut from the womb, your Healer leaves the Bearer to die."

"None have survived," B'layr agreed. "I am sorry that I frightened you, but I am not sorry you were there." He squeezed Jim's hand reassuringly. "I will be fine, now."

"Mother? Sire?" L'anin stuck his head through the tent flap once more. "M'aris wishes to speak with you."

"Tell him tomorrow," Jim growled. "B'layr is too weak."

"My heart!" B'layr looked up in surprise. "One does not turn down the Chieftain of the tribe!"

"That's going to change," Jim grumbled, "because I just did." At his soulmate's distressed look, he continued in a calming voice. "You nearly died giving birth to the twins. You need to rest, recover more. I've nursed you for three days, not knowing if you'd ever wake. M'aris can wait."

B'layr let his eyes drift closed. He nodded, handing the half-finished bowl of stew to his mate. "I am tired."

"Sleep, my soul," Jim whispered in return. He set the food aside and gathered the smaller body against his own, settling back under the pile of furs.

~oO0Oo~

Jim carried B'layr out of the tent to sit in front of the small campfire. He had clothed his mate in one of the old maternity dresses, draping an extra fur around his shoulders for warmth. The elf sat cradled in his lap, leaning back against his chest for support. L'anin sat beside his parents, holding a newborn elfling in each arm.

M'aris and K'tan settled across from the new parents. "I am pleased you are still with us, Bearer," the Chieftain began.

"His name is B'layr," Jim reminded him gruffly.

"Yes, of course ... B'layr," M'aris agreed.

"I am happy to still be here," B'layr answered softly, ignoring the name debate. "Why did you summon us?"

"And make it good," Jim growled. "B'layr shouldn't be out of bed."

"J'anin!" B'layr tipped his head back to look up at his mate. "I am doing fine. Behave."

"As you are well aware," M'aris continued, "the fact that B'layr bore twins is quite extraordinary among our people. In all the remembered history of the Ten Tribes, there has been no such birth." B'layr was nodding his agreement, while Jim continued to glare unhappily. "That alone, would elevate your status in the tribes. But ... you also gave birth to a legend—the female." The Chieftain stopped suddenly, considering. "Have you chosen names for the elflings?"

B'layr glanced up at Jim, who nodded. "The firstborn will be called T'erin, Protector of the Forest. The female..." he paused, thinking. "The girl shall be called K'tiri, Born from the Blessed Womb."

Both M'aris and K'tan nodded their acceptance of the naming. K'tan continued, "Our legends, passed down through generations, have spoken of a female elf, to be born during a time when the elven tribes diminish. She is to be the savior of our kind, replenisher of the earth. She needs no soulmate and will bear many children of many tribes. She shall be our Chieftess, and the tribes will unite under her rule."

"And you believe K'tiri is this savior?" B'layr asked.

"'Born of death into life shall she be'," K'tan quoted. "Cut from your womb.... You should have died, Bearer."

"But he didn't," Jim felt constrained to put in. "So our daughter can't be this queen of the elves of whom you speak."

"Born of Sentry blood," the Shaman/Healer continued. "She of the Blessed Womb."

"That's just a coincidence! Isn't it?" he added uncertainly, looking at B'layr.

"I do not know, my heart. But in any case, our daughter is a unique gift to the tribe. Whether or not she achieves the status of Bearer of Tribes is many, many Turns-of-Seasons away."

"Look," Jim began, growing more restless as the conversation continued. "I'll grant that our children are unusual and special, but we could have discussed this tomorrow... or next week. B'layr almost died less than four days ago. He's weak, hurting and needs his rest. Is there a point you're trying to make here?" B'layr glanced up at his stubborn soulmate with a sigh, too tired to verbally chastise his rudeness.

M'aris dropped his eyes. "I apologize. We do not wish to lose the Bearer of Sentries."

"B'layr!" Jim interrupted, ready to get up and take his mate back to into the tent.

"J'anin," M'aris continued, addressing the angry man. "You are the Sire of the Bearer of Tribes. You have brought the Gift back to our people and given us means to repopulate the forest. I asked you here to tell you that I am passing the mantle of Chieftain of the Wolf Tribe over to you."

"What?" Jim rocked back, startling his soulmate. "You have got to be kidding! I know nothing of leading a tribe."

"What is there to know?" M'aris asked. "You were a leader of men in the City. This is a position for which you are more than qualified. I have not been able to give more than my wisdom to the tribe since the loss of my mate. You have given them their hope for the future ... for the future of all of our kind."

Jim shook his head, not wanting the responsibility. B'layr looked up at his lover and smiled. "As Chieftain, your word is law, my heart."

"It is?" Jim looked thoughtful as B'layr nodded.

"I would be willing to stay on as your advisor, if you would have me," M'aris offered.

"All right, you have a deal," Jim finally agreed.

"I shall prepare the ceremony," K'tan said, rising from his place by the fire.

Jim motioned him back. "There will be no ceremony until B'layr is strong enough to attend."

"As you wish," M'aris and K'tan answered simultaneously.

Jim gathered B'layr into his arms and took him back inside the tent. "Now I will have to call you Chief," the elf teased, pulling off the dress and settling into the furs.

"No way," Jim disagreed, stripping and crawling in beside his mate. "You're not playing second fiddle to anyone, anymore."

B'layr chuckled. "You still confound me, J'anin. I do not understand all your words, but I understand your intentions, and I love you for it. Come, hold me."

Jim wrapped his arms around the lithe form, pulling his soulmate close. B'layr tucked his head beneath Jim's chin, and the Sentry was allowed the luxury of burying his face in the fragrant curls. He kissed the top of his mate's head, then closed his eyes to join B'layr in sleep.

~oO0Oo~

Jim stood on the fur-covered platform, flanked by B'layr, holding their two children, and L'anin. Clearing his throat, he spoke to the assembled tribes. "I greet you as the new Chieftain of the Wolf Tribe." A cheer went up from his own tribe and from the neighboring tribes. "I stand before you today to break down some walls and institute equality among the People.

"From this day forward, no elf who has become pregnant needs to endure the Blessing of the tribe. For those to whom it is a sacred ritual, I will not prevent it. But for those who are reluctant, none will be forced." B'layr looked up at Jim and smiled; it was good to have the choice.

"On a related subject, no elf will be forced to endure a public birthing. For those to whom birth means family and intimacy, privacy will be respected." He was surprised at the smattering of applause he received. He had almost expected his changes to be met with resistance. Apparently, the ancient rituals had been followed as much from habit as from an acceptance of their tenets.

Jim drew in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around B'layr and pulling him in close to his side. "Lastly, is respect. It takes two to make a child. The Sire provides the seed, but the Bearer carries that seed, nurturing it to the fullness of life for an entire Turn of the Seasons. Yet, the Bearer is treated as little more than a vessel, an implement. It is the Sire, who, with one night of passion, impregnates the Bearer, and who receives all the credit and respect. No more!" He pulled B'layr in front of him, wrapping both arms around the elf's waist to support him. "Here stands the Giver of Life. No longer shall he be known merely as the Bearer of Sentries, but as B'layr, Soulmate of J'anin, Mother of L'anin, T'erin and K'tiri, the Giver of Life and Hope."

The crowd of elves mobbed the platform then, carrying off the First Family for a night of celebration. The music of flutes and drums filled the air, and elves from all tribes mixed and danced.

B'layr was the center of attention, as everyone wished to see the miracle of the twins and the Bearer who had survived their birth. But, by the small hours of the morning, the weariness began to show as B'layr sagged against Jim for support.

"Had enough of the limelight, Imp?" Jim chuckled.

"It is good to have respect and status," B'layr agreed, "but notoriety is exhausting."

Jim stood and helped B'layr to his feet. L'anin had retired earlier with the twins, who also needed their rest. He took his soulmate back to the tent and slowly disrobed him, enjoying the sensual feast of the unveiling. "I thought you were exhausted." Jim grinned as the last of the clothing dropped away. "This says otherwise." He cupped the erect cock with one hand.

B'layr leaned into the touch. "It has been a long time, my heart. Between the pregnancy, the birth and the healing, there has been little opportunity to take pleasure from our bodies."

"Are you sure you're ready?" Jim asked, tracing the angry red scar that crossed the elf's pubic area.

"It is healed. I am well," B'layr assured him. He began unlacing Jim's jerkin and breeches. "You see? You want me," he chuckled, uncovering his mate's own aroused organ.

They sank to the furs, reveling in the feel of their bodies pressing together. Arms and legs tangled as their lips touched. Jim drank in the flavor of his soulmate, his tongue tasting all the corners of B'layr's mouth as their bodies rubbed together, creating delightful friction. His fingers traced the delicate point of one graceful ear, tucking long strands of hair behind it to reveal the perfection.

B'layr moaned in delight as Jim worked his way along his body, stopping briefly to suckle at the leaking nipples before traveling down to explore the dark recesses of his navel. He squirmed beneath his lover, bumping Jim's chin with the head of his cock.

"Not so fast," Jim cautioned, moving back up B'layr's torso until he was snuggled beneath the cascade of hair that covered the elf's neck and shoulders.

A lightning shock ran through them both as their cocks aligned. B'layr began humping beneath his mate, seeking release in the friction of their bodies. He came with a strangled cry, lubricating their skin with his semen. Scent and touch combined to ignite the Sentry into action. A few short thrusts against his mate's slick flesh was all he needed to complete his own climax. The pair collapsed into the furs, sated and content.

Jim pulled B'layr close, curling around him. The elf snuggled into the embrace, content to be held. "Whatever the future holds," the Sentry whispered into one upswept ear, "you will always be the Bearer of my heart."

THE END

Warning: Some people who have read this story view the Blessing scene as both rape (gang rape at that) and incest. In the culture of the elves, this is not the case. Those who see it that way are viewing it through their own experience and cultural mores, and not that of the elves to whom the tradition belongs. People who blast me about this story have closed their minds to other cultures and beliefs. There are many different belief systems in our world, and we need to learn to accept that not everyone thinks the same way we do about certain issues. But to each his own. If this bothers you, skip this story. You have been warned (and DON'T write to me and say I don't put warnings on my stories!).