Here’s the original post intro to this story from Patrick:
This story was kind of a goof I did for the VN Boards. They used to have these contests for players to write fan fiction based on the game, their characters, etc. Well, I decided to submit a porn story for the contest. I figured the admins would just ignore it and pay me no mind. Well, little did I know that my raw writing talent would overshadow my inanity. That’s right, I just made up a new word. Anywho, I decided to write some hot erotica about my Berserker Gruesome getting it on with an Elf chick. I had to follow some setup to the story they had decided on, “Something Wicked This Way Comes…” with the beginning being about your lead character hearing something approaching in a cave.
Well, that’s how it started. Once I started writing, it went pretty quick. Gruesome got all hot and heavy with an Elf and I submitted the story. Well, lo and behold, they actually liked the story….except for one small problem. They wanted me to remove the “insertion”. I was happy to oblige, so I PG-13′ed it up a little and sent it off again.
And came in 3rd in the contest. I got a title for my VN screen name and the love and admiration of my peers. Of course, I lost the title some weeks later when I got banned from VN; and my “friends” all really just wanted a copy of the un-edited version of the story. Well, that’s what we’re posting here, the un-edited one. Enjoy!
Copyright © 2012 Patrick Underhill
I lifted my hammer and axe in my hands as the first Lurikeen sneak leapt at me from the shadows. He was not expecting a Troll of my size to be so quick, as I evaded his tiny blades. I swung my right arm down, smashing his skull with my trusty hammer. The tiny corpse was soon soaked with his own blood, and only the body remained recognizable. His friends approached more cautiously; there were 3 of them, 2 Elves and another Keen.
They circled me warily, still I chanted my prayer to Modi. The bear god knew I fought for his honor, and he would grant me his strength. I felt the rage coarse through me. It feels good to let go of my civilized ways, to become one with great Modi. For many of my people, it is considered dishonorable to be a Berserker. We Trolls were the first people, and born to be better than Man or Dwarf. We built the first cities in Midgard and brought powerful magics to the lands. But now, we are at war with the peoples of Hibernia and Albion. And war brings us to face our true selves. I am Gruesome. I am a beast. I rend flesh and crush bone. Modi gives me strength and transforms me into a bear so that I might devour my enemies. Like now.
I roared at the little sneaks, as my body erupted with muscle and hair. I was already strong as a Troll, now I was monstrous. My armor ripped from my body and fell to the cave floor. With a clawed left hand, I swung my axe at the Elf in front of me. He swiftly ducked under it and my axe imbedded in the cave wall. I had used such force that I could not pull it out. The other Elf behind me stabbed me in the side with his rapier. I shoved my left elbow back, hitting him hard in the body and sending him flying to the other side of the cave. The diminutive Lurikeen thrust at me with his dagger, barely nicking my tough hide. I threw my hammer across my body at him. He tried to evade the blow, but couldn’t quite make it. There was a sickening crack as I connected with his shoulder, almost folding the puny sneak in half. His limp body flew through the air in a comical fashion. The first Elf stabbed at me, grazing my belly as I turned. I slashed at him with my huge left paw, hitting his head and spinning him around. He never saw my hammer as I smashed it into the back of his head. Blood and pulp splattered from the huge whole where his long, well-groomed hair used to be. And just like that it was over.
My rage subsided. There was the pain of my bones and muscles contorting back to normal. Coarse, brown hair fell around me like snow. I began to feel the pain from my wounds. The scrape across the belly was purely superficial, it would heal quickly. The gash in my side wasn’t serious, but would make the long walk back home a bit uncomfortable…especially in this snow. With a groan, I pried my axe free of the stone wall using my hammer as a wedge of sorts. My armor lay in ruins on the ground, but such was the gift of Modi. Luckily, I had the bear carcass still. I could use it’s pelt as clothes for the journey home.
That was why I had come to the mountain this late in fall. Before each winter I would make the trek up here, to hunt and fight a bear at his peak before he slept for the winter. I had found a great bull and brought him down in true combat. Then I would eat the bear and take his pelt home as a trophy. But I hadn’t counted on finding a group of sneaks here. Obviously, they were spies sent by Hibernia. The fools must have gotten lost to be so far up in the mountain, and obviously they were not the most skilled at fighting. Even a great warrior such as I should not have made such short work of 4 opponents.
“Too bad they won’t be able to take this lesson back to their brothers,” I smirked to myself. Then I realized I was not alone in the cave. I heard someone else breathing.
I turned to see the Elf I had elbowed into the wall beginning to stir. I hefted my hammer and decided to finish him off. I walked over to the soon-to-be corpse and lifted him by the hair. Imagine my shock to find it wasn’t a “him” at all. While I could go on all day discussing the similarities between Elven men and women, the breasts that heaved in labored breath were a dead giveaway to this one’s womanliness. I dropped my hammer to my side. Never had I fought, let alone killed, a woman before. In Troll society, women were not warriors. They were only seen in battle as Shamen; otherwise they were the protectors of the home, teachers of the children. Never would a Troll woman be seen skulking around caves and stabbing men in the backs. I was at a loss.
I had rope with me, so I bound the female by the wrists and ankles. I searched her body to make sure she had no other weapons hidden on her, then I set about cleaning my camp. I tossed the dead bodies far down the mountainside, they would be food for wolves. As I made my way back to the cave, I noticed dark clouds in the distance. A heavy storm was coming, so I would have to make the best with what I had close by. I found as much wood as could be used for fire, and several large stones to fashion as a pit.
Back in the cave, the Elf was breathing easier. I didn’t know how badly she might be injured, but I thought it best to wait til she awakened. Then I realized that I was still walking around without clothes. I would have to clean the bear quickly before the storm arrived. I could already feel the chill wind. I had just finished cutting most of the meat off the bear, when I noticed the Elf stopped breathing. I looked to her to see if she might have passed on, but all I could focus on were the sharp eyes staring back at me. Stands of silver-blue hair cascaded over her face and her lips were drawn tight as she studied me. I’m sure I must have seemed a menacing beast to her, with the bear’s carcass splayed out before me and blood dripping from my arms. She didn’t flinch when I drove the large knife I was using into the ground and rose and walked to the entrance. I used the snow outside to wash the blood off. When I made my way back in, I saw that she had tried to crawl to the knife; but was obviously still in much pain. I laughed and stomped a heavy foot infront of her face.
“You’ll not be doing that.” She didn’t know my words, but she understood my rumbling tone. She glared at me with smite-filled eyes as blue as the ocean. Then, something like quiet shock replaced her hatred as she stared upwards at me. This must have been her first time actually seeing a Troll. We are a mighty breed, and I know our stony features can give us an obdurate look. But our skin is warm to the touch, like any other, and we still bleed and die. We have strength beyond that of Man, and our skin is tougher; but our minds are not those of beasts. Except when Modi’s rage overtakes me in battle. But even Men and Dwarves have succumbed to that fever, if Modi chooses them.
I followed her eyes from my face, to the scratch on my stomach and the wound she made herself in my side, then lower. Her eyes widened as she finally saw that I wore no clothing at the moment. I chuckled at her lingering gaze.
“You must be used to Elf men,” I chided lowly. My words seemed to break the her trance. She blushed slightly and turned her eyes to the ground. Still she said not a word. I walked back to the cave’s opening and retrieved the bearskin I had laid out to dry. It was cold, and still somewhat damp, but would serve my purpose. I wrapped it around my waist and went back inside. I stuck the knife high in the wall and hung my axe and hammer on it, well out of the Elf’s reach. Then I stoked the small fire and walked to her small form. As I bent over her, I could sense her body tighten. She posed no threat with her arms and feet bound, but I still treated her with caution. I picked her up like a doll and carried her closer to the fire, she was light as a feather. Fear filled her eyes as I lifted her shirt. She must have thought the stories of Norsemen were true for Trolls as well, that I was about to force myself upon her. I couldn’t help but smile, which probably didn’t help her situation at all.
I had hit her hard, but had not left a bruise. It seemed I had mainly knocked the wind out of her and left her with a bit of soreness. I felt her ribs to be sure none were broken. They were easy to feel on her thin frame, and my gray skin stood out in stark contrast to the pale white of hers. She jumped when I first touched her, as if she expected my skin to be cold, like the rock it resembled. She relaxed as she seemed to understand that I meant her no harm. I cannot deny the urge I felt to raise her shirt higher, to see more. She was a beautiful creature. But that is not our way. Once I was satisfied that she had no need of immediate attention, I stood and walked to the other side of the fire. Her eyes met mine as I sat across from her. We were at an impasse. I was not one to kill a woman, and she would slit my throat if her hands weren’t tied. But she didn’t know what to make of me. Her silence was understandable, but uncomfortable to me. I began roasting some strips of the bear meat on a stick over the fire. She looked from the stick to what was left of the bear with an emotionless glance. I wondered if these “children of the forest” even ate meat. I tossed a strip of the cooked bear to her. She eyed it suspiciously, but made no move to pick it up. I pulled off another strip and bit a hearty chunk off it.
“Not Hungry?” I asked her, then finished off the strip. I pulled a fresh strip off and pulled it in half. I walked over to her and ate one half, then offered the other side to her. She bit it tenderly, then grimaced as she swallowed. I laughed and handed her the rest of the piece of meat. She took it from me and slowly finished it. She might not like the taste of bear, but it sure beat going hungry I guessed. I tried talking to her while we finished off more of the meat.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. If I let you go, you’ll just try to kill me. But I can’t kill you. I could throw you out to the storm, or leave you for the wolves.” She watched me as I spoke, trying to decipher my words. “My name is Gruesome.” She stared at me. “Gruesome,” I said and pointed at myself. “Gruesome.”
She pointed at me and mimicked the word. “Gruesome.” Her voice was light and melodic. Not as high as a Kobold’s, and much more appealing than the Norse. She motioned her tied hands toward herself. “So-li-ther-i-a.” She said each syllable slowly. “Solitheria.”
“Solitheria.” I repeated her name back to her and smiled. To my surprise, a small smile escaped her lips. I nodded to her and we finished our meal in peace. After we ate, I took her outside and tried to explain that a large storm was coming soon. The high winds and bitter air were a great help, but I also picked up snow and threw it in the air to show that we would soon be buried if we did not take cover in the cave. I wasn’t sure how long the storm would last, but I figured it would give me plenty of time to decide what to do about Solitheria. I was definitely in a quandary. She was my enemy, but I could not see leaving a woman of any kind alone in this wilderness without a weapon. Of course, she might use that weapon to kill me while I slept, since she was still just a dirty sneak. And I am no murderer; I kill in battle, with purpose.
The dark clouds loomed overhead, and the wind became fiercer. I carried her back inside and blockaded the entrance as best I could with snow. We had food, and the snow would serve as water. I had gathered enough wood to last a couple of nights, so I had no doubts that we would survive the storm. The sun was almost gone due to the storm and the lateness of the day, and the fire offered much more light than the dark gray sky outside. We sat on opposite sides of the small blaze silently, both watching each other. She had only a small sword and a dagger with her as weapons, and I had placed them both with my own high on the cave wall where I knew she could not reach. I went to them now and drew out her sword. Solitheria followed my movements carefully. No fear in her eyes, but curiosity. Surely, she knew that if my intention was to kill her she would already be dead. I slowly approached her.
“I’m going to free your arms and legs,” I said as I knelt beside her and grabbed her thin ankles in my left hand. “Please, don’t try to escape, Solitheria. You won’t survive outside.” Saying her name seemed to calm her, but she maintained a steady gaze on me while I cut the rope binding her legs together. Then she offered her hands to me. I met her eyes evenly, showing no malice and seeing none in hers. I thought she was aware of the situation. Carefully, I cut the rope from her wrists, holding her hands together tightly with mine. I nodded to her, and she replied with something in her native tongue. I hoped it meant “Thank you”, but had no way to know. Then I returned her sword to its perch and sat back down across from her. She rubbed her hands and feet to get her blood flowing freely again. She seemed genuinely at ease now.
The storm raged outside. This was only a precursor to winter in the mountains. By the time the moon changed again, the snow would fall almost constantly here. We sat in silence while the air grew colder around us.
Then, a strange thing happened. The only words Solitheria had said to me had been during our awkward introductions and when I had freed her from the ropes. But now, she began singing. With a voice as soft and lilting as the ocean waves, she sang a slow, almost painful song. I looked at her in awe, watching her rose-colored lips form words that I could not understand, yet still held so much meaning. No music of Man or Kobold or Troll could match the beauty of Solitheria’s song. I sat as still as stone while she finished with a long, high note. She looked at me intently, then said something in her soft tongue and touched a finger lightly to her cheek. I realized she was telling me something was on my face. It was a tear, brought by her fluid tones.
“Thank you, Solitheria,” I said and bowed my head. She gave me a low bow back and smiled at me , almost warmly. She stretched back, and I couldn’t help but notice her form. Her beauty was sharp and defined, her body lean. I did not know much about Elves at the time, and had no way of discerning how attractive she was to her own people. But she was a goddess compared to the Norsewomen I had seen. While it was not unheard of for a Troll and Norse to bed, it was very rare. We find beauty in others, but we are closely bound to our own people. We are few, and so we only mate with Troll women. I shook such thoughts from my head. Solitheria was an Elf maiden, a sworn enemy of all of Midgard. She courted with Firbolgs and Lurikeens and Men of the green isle. To her, I was a beast. She had already witnessed my horror upon her companions.
The night grew long, and sleep was coming upon me. Solitheria sat as if wide awake, which caused me some worry. Although she did seem to feel the chill more than I. She shivered as she held her legs close to her body. The small fire would not do much to keep her small frame warm through the night. I lay on my side and wrapped the bear’s skin around me. Solitheria rose and walked over to me.
“Gruesome,” she lilted in her soft voice. Then she wrapped her arms about herself and shivered mightily. I lifted the bearskin slightly and she quickly crawled inside. She nestled against me, and the sweet smell of her hair drifted to my nose. I knew fear then. My stomach tightened, and I did not know why. I felt her soft breath against my chest as she whispered something against my skin. Then her hand was on me, caressing the muscles of my arm. Still she whispered. She felt my side, moving to the wound she gave me. I slowly wrapped my arms around her tiny body. Her fingers brushed my belly and set my spine tingling. Now it was my turn to shiver. Then her hands were between my legs, slowly caressing me as I hardened. I looked down at her, she turned her face to meet my eyes. Her soft words were entrancing, soothing. I could crush her with one hand, but she was the one in control now.
Gently, she pushed at my chest, rolling me onto my back; all the while speaking in her native tongue, as if she were assuring me that everything would be alright. She straddled my stomach, while her small hands moved over my face and body. Then her hands moved to her shirt, lifting it slowly, exposing more and more of her ivory skin. Then her breasts were before me, small and firm. The pink dots of her nipples were stiff in the cold air. She paused, her face hidden from me by her shirt, allowing me to take in the beauty of her torso. Then she pulled the bodice over her head and met my stare with her eyes that shined like sapphire in the firelight. Finally, I moved my hands discovering her body for myself. I touched her lightly, as if I would break her with my huge paws. She melted into my caresses and stetched her legs out behind her, framing my manhood with an almost wicked gleam in her eyes. Then she was removing her pants, lifting her legs and pressing her breasts against me as she did so. Never did I know such arousal. Her body warmed against my skin, and I felt her heat against my hardness. Solitheria lifted her face to mine, her breasts pressed against my flesh. Her soft lips touched my cheek and I felt her warm tongue trace a line to my ear, where she whispered my name. “Solitheria,” I replied in a hoarse whisper. She pulled her body away from me and the cold air expounded the loss I felt from her touch. With one hand on my belly to brace her up, she used the other to guide me between her thighs. Her breath was heavy as I slowly penetrated her. She gritted her teeth and cried out from the pain as I stretched her wide. Her breath caught and she remained motionless above me. I dared not move for fear of hurting her. I caressed her breasts and stomach gently, and then she began moving slowly. With determination she moved up and down on me, taking me in a bit more as gently as she could. Her eyes were closed and her teeth bared against the pain of my invasion into her small form. I could not stop watching her. Her immaculate body moved on top of me, enchanting me. She began trembling and moans of pleasure echoed in the cavern. I began moving my hips in rhythm with hers; she gasped sharply, but a seductive smile lit her face.
Her eyes met mine and she bit her lower lip in a mixture of pain and ecstasy. My desire heightened and I growled low in my chest. Solitheria worked with new vigor above me, her pace quickening. My large hands held her roughly as my pleasure increased with her movements. She stretched her arms behind her, arching her back. I sat up and held her body close while she slowly fell to her back on the ground. I felt her tighten around me and her body convulsed as she was flooded in waves of delight. Her arms wrapped around my neck, my hands framed her pale shoulders while I braced my weight above her. With all the will I had, I pulled myself out of her before I exploded in ecstasy. I rolled to my back, holding her still quivering form close to me. The heat from our sweat-covered bodies protected us from the cold air around.
The storm raged through most of the next day. We knew each other 3 more times, Solitheria seemed to take pleasure in exporing my body with her hands and mouth. I treated her tiny form with great care. She seemed so fragile against me. On the second morning, we prepared to leave. I used more of the bear’s hide to fashion a heavier cloak of sorts for her. Before we parted ways, she wrapped her arms around my neck and lifted her lips to kiss my chin.
“Aesalion eldirandil, Gruesome,” she intoned to me and smiled. I don’t know what the words meant, but they were the only ones I would ever remember completely.
“Good-bye, Solitheria,” I told her. I watched her walk away down the slope. She gave me one last look at her eyes, and then she was gone.
I have killed many Elves since that time, and bedded many women. Nothing has changed in my life as a proud defender of Midgard, except for the fact that I remain in love with a woman I never really knew. Her face and figure remain emblazened in my mind, and her song and words still haunt my dreams.