Johan enjoyed the fantasy of a life where the three of them did nothing but make love and take turns filling Elias up with cum. He wasn’t sure when his imagination had become so filthy, but he was fairly certain it started around the time this particular little elf had burst into his life with his shameless perfect mouth.
Elias’ magic was beginning to wane, and it became much too cold to linger, so they quickly washed up in the stream and filled up their water skins before heading back to the elf who completed them.
“Gods, what is that? Did you see it?” Elias asked as they walked hand in hand.
“Kingfisher, they are quite common by the water.”
“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a bird that colour before. It’s like a winter sunset or something. Magical,” Elias said in wonder.
Johan beamed at Elias like the lovesick fool he was. One of the things he adored about Elias was his ability to find simple joys in the world. Elias always paused to smell a nice flower or to admire a tiny ant carrying a big leaf on its back.
“They are a lot like elves. They collect things and give gifts to woo their mate,” Johan explained.
“Gosh, what romantic little birds. Do they mate for life, please tell me they do?”
“Not exactly, but they do often return to their mate for more than one season.”
“Kjære, if I were a kingfisher, I’d always return to you.” Elias squeezed Johan’s hand.
“What does ‘kjære’ mean?”
Elias blushed, and Johan had to fight not to kiss the bloom as it spread across his cheeks.
“Um… it means like, darling, or… or beloved.”
Johan brought their joined hands up to his lips and kissed the back of Elias’. “My kjære, too,” he said.
Twenty-Three
Henrik
T
hose two better come back made up or be ready to duel because I’m sick of this,Henrik lamented to himself.
He was optimistic, though. As long as Elias didn’t manage to put his foot in his mouth—which now he thought about it, was a considerably high possibility—he was certain the two of them would make amends so they could all move on.
A noise outside distracted Henrik from where he was sweeping the floor of their little cabin. He looked out the window to see if Johan and Elias were smiling or crying, hoping to get an indication of how their conversation had gone.
But it wasn’t Johan and Elias.
Two men were hovering by the tree line, and Henrik’s heart sped faster than a rabbit’s. Henrik had only spotted one of them at first, his flame-coloured hair standing out in the shaded forest, but there was a second man with hair as dark as night to his side, wielding a knife.
Suddenly painfully aware of how small and defenceless he was without Johan and Elias, Henrik grabbed the wool blanket off the bed to cover the table and hid underneath it.
As the sound of footsteps approached, Henrik’s pulse pounded in his ears like the drums they would sometimes use to keep the elves working long into the night back at the mills.
Henrik held his breath when the door swung open, and he could see two sets of boots walk by him from the small gap under the blanket.
“Well, it’s certainly being lived in,” one of the men said to the other.
“They appear to either be cobblers or own more shoes than the Queen.”
The two men wandered around the cabin, and Henrik prayed for them to leave before Elias and Johan returned, but luck was not on their side.
“Rik? Rik! I must tell you all about this bird I saw,” Elias yelled as he approached. Henrik cursed under his breath.
“It seems we have company,” one of the men muttered just before Elias burst through the door.
