dontravis.com
blog post #328
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Ready for the
second installment of this medieval story? First, let me point out something
obvious to the historians among you. Given the setting and the time, it is
doubtful that Hargis and his two friends could read or write. But allow me some
poetic license, okay? You will recall from last week that our hero met and rebuffed a beautiful young woman on his travel over a mysterious mountain.
Here we go, trekking
with Hargis over this strange mountain trail again..
*****
THE
MOUNTAIN
The pathway ahead became far more
difficult. Rocks torn from the slope blocked the way at times. Late afternoon
found me panting and sweating at the edge of another beautiful park and
mentally kicking my bum for refusing to sample the beautiful girl on the back
trail. Mindful of the refreshing bath earlier that day, I knelt at the side of
that same mountain stream and washed away the day’s grime before partaking of
the cool water. As I started to rise, I froze. Standing on the opposite shore
where the stream was at its narrowest, was a slender youth.
I issued a challenge from sheer
surprise. “Who is there?”
“A friend,” came a clear, light
voice. My words had galvanized the figure to action. Gracefully, the stranger
leapt the stream and strode to meet me. “My name is Gwinnyth,” said a gamin
mouth set in a gamin’s face. It was another girl…or woman, if you prefer. Younger
than the other but looking strangely the same except for being slimmer and wearing
her dark hair cropped close to the head in a strangely pleasing manner.
Introducing myself as a traveler on
the way to the far coast. Offering me sustenance, she walked up the stream in a
strong, boyish gait to a fire merrily burning in a carefully constructed rock
pit. A hare simmered in a spit over the flames.
As she carefully offered a meal of
charred flesh on a broad green leaf, she set about questioning me. I responded
good-naturedly.
“I am Hargis of Rodenbury, a
cobbler on my way to the eastern shore to visit two boon companions from my
past.”
“You go to seek your beloved?” she
asked. Her small head sat dainty upon its slender neck.
“Nay,” I protested quickly and then
paused at the thought. “Mayhap you have struck upon a truth. There is a fair
lady awaiting on that shore.”
“One? You spoke of two?” she said,
nibbling at a hare’s leg on her own leaf.
“The other is a youth. Nay, he’s a
man by now. I keep remembering him as I saw him last these three summers past.”
She looked up with interest. “He is
fair, as well?”
“When last I saw him, he was as
beautiful as his sister.”
“Then likely still he is,” she said
nonchalantly. Suddenly, she eyed me frankly. “You have traveled far. You will
spend the night with me?”
There was no doubt of her meaning. Her
dark eyes examined me from pate to boot with the same disconcerting frankness
as had Gwyndolyn. Fresh from that sweet temptation, I reacted with excitement.
“And where do you bed down for the
night?” I asked through a tight voice.
“Why here, of course,” she replied.
“Have you no home?”
She glanced at me with puzzlement. “The
mountain is my home.”
“Have you never been off it?”
Again, she looked perplexed. “There
is no other place, at least in this
world,” the small mouth proclaimed firmly.
“Then from whence do I come?” I
asked with a smile.
“The other world,” she responded
promptly.
Delighted at the provinciality of
this woman-child, I rose with a laugh and proceeded to wash myself at the
stream. As she had no blankets of her own, I allowed her to snuggle against me
as we settled by the campfire. She made no objection when I lay close behind
her.
Strange that I should be so excited
by this slight woman when I spurned the voluptuous Gwyndolyn. Nevertheless, I
responded to her. I reached around and fastened upon a rounded breast with a
rigid nipple. Aye, I’d take this one for all her boyish, coltish ways.
Suddenly, a loud noise at the edge
of the glen drew me to my feet ready to meet any danger. A lilting laugh eased
my concern.
“Tis only a stag drawn to the fire
and bolting when he caught our scent,” she said. Thudding hooves in the far
brush confirmed her opinion. “Come back to our bed,” the girl pled.
And I did, but my ardor was
deflated, the desire gone. I turned my back to her, and resting my head on my
arms, I wondered at the fragility of my need. My heart raced, but it was from
the interruption, not the wanting.
Her words startled me. “Are you
sure?” To my muttered affirmative, she added, “Are you certain?” I made no
further reply but fell asleep.
When I woke the following morning,
Gwinnyth was gone. It was as if she had never been there except for the ashes
in the fire ring.
Easing my hunger from the dried
stores in my bag, I washed up and was soon on my way through this strange
place. Once again, strewn boulders blocked my way in the steep part of the
trail, forcing me to do some climbing. At mid morn, I reached the crest and looked
eagerly to the east. There was nothing to see except for the broad seaward
slope of the mountain and a haze in the distance. It was as if what the pixie
Gwinnyth had said was God’s Truth. This mountain was its own world.
Resolutely, I set upon my trek
again, finding the going faster on the downhill trail. The sun had long passed
overhead before I paused to take sustenance again in a broad highland meadow
like others I had left behind. There was no rushing stream to my left, but
doubtless there was one somewhere nearby.
As I munched on tasteless dried
goods, the hair on the nape of my neck bristled. Carefully, I leaned casually
against the bole of a tree. In the periphery of my vision I caught sight of the
gamin. She had followed me.
“I see you,” I said gruffly.
“And I see you,” came the reply,
surprising me by the timbre of the voice. It was lower, masculine.
The figure stepped forward, and I
saw that it was not Gwinnyth, but it could have been from the closeness of the
resemblance. The pixie face was slightly larger, and the chin was male, the
upper lip showing a faint line of down. This was a boy.
Confused, I stammered. “H-have we
not met before?”
“Nay, I’ve not set eyes upon you
before, although I wish I had. You are long on the trail?” the adolescent voice
asked.
“Some days,” I responded.
“Come with me, and I will show you
a welcome surprise.”
“I’ve a way yet to go. I’d best—”
“Tis but a short distance. And you
will be pleased.”
Intrigued, I followed the youth
into the forest. My eyes fastened upon his lean figure, discerning muscles
playing beneath his rude clothing. I was brought to think of Gwinnyth walking
before me in her feminine, boyish gait. This youth walked in a manly way
tainted by a girlish grace. Confounded by my interest, I was glad when he came
to a halt and gestured.
“See! There it is!”
He pointed to a dark, green pool
from which steam arose. It was one of those natural baths heated by the earth. A
thing much coveted for reasons of health.
Confident that I was intrigued, the
youth abruptly shed his clothing and stepped into the water. I could not help
but notice his dark nipples, lean belly, and ample manhood. He grinned as he
took note of my observance and then sat in the pool with a curiously feminine
flourish.
Suddenly tired, I stripped naked
and entered the pool, taking a seat facing him. His eyes had examined me closely
throughout the entire process.
“You are a lot of man,” he said as
we faced one another in the hot, soothing water. Having no reply to that, I
asked his name. “I am Donneth,” he responded.
“Some time back on the trail, I met
someone who favors you strongly,” I said.
“Ah, that must be Gwinnyth.”
Comprehension dawned. “She is your
sister?”
“Aye. I have sisters. And a
brother. And you are Hargis, are you not?”
“How did you know? Oh, I see. You
have spoken to your sister.” I colored abruptly. Had she told of my lack of
interest.
A hand on my thigh interrupted my
thoughts. I flinched.
“Have I offended you?” the youth,
who I now judged three or so years my junior, inquired. “I simply sought to offer…
friendship.”
“Where I come from men do not touch
men in such manner,” I said gruffly. Yet in truth, I was not offended.
“That world must be a horrible
place,” he said simply and leaned forward to gaze into my eyes.
“That world is your world,” I
snapped.
“Nay, not mine! This is my world. Where
I can offer my friendship as I see fit.” The hand came to rest on my thigh
again. I made no protest. To my surprise, I responded to the touch.
“Stand so I can see you. Please!”
he purred.
Whether out of perversity or a need
arising from casting aside two attractive women, I complied and stood with
tendrils of hot water cascading off my body, my suddenly exposed parts cooling
in the mountain air.
You are beautiful!” Donneth
murmured. Still shocked by my reactions, I agreed to remain with him for the
night.
I slept with Donneth
beside the comfort of a fire, and before sleep came, he reached for me. Pausing
only to ask, “Are you sure?”
“Aye,” I responded.
And after he drew me to orgasm, I asked if he would accompany me on the morrow,
but he could not comprehend departing this world of his. At my dawn awakening,
he was gone. As with Gwinnyth, there was no sign he had ever been here.
*****
Wow!
Hargis of Rodenbury is learning things about himself. A beautiful young woman
throws herself at him, and he rejects her. A tomboy excites his interest, but
he allows noises in the forest to cool his ardor. But he goes all the way with
a young man. What else is there to learn? See Installment 3.
Abaddon’s Locusts,
the
fifth in the BJ Vinson mystery series, received several positive reviews. I
hope you’ll consider buying a copy. If you do, please post a review of the book
on Amazon. Each one helps… as do letters to the publisher.
Now
my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on
writing. You have something to say… so say it.
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personal links:
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See
you next week.
Don
New Posts are
published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.
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