Crone Ch. 01: Healer and Lass

Mostly a story of medieval peasant life, a little sex.

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Jordan walked the forest path. He had to get away for a while, from the farm he shared with his father.

Since mother died his father would not work, would not speak, and rarely even ate. The atmosphere at home was oppressive.

For a year he'd left his father to mourn, but it seemed the mourning would not end! Sure Jordan missed his mother, a lot at first. But time healed the wound, and he got back to his life in time.

Not so father, and that was a problem. Jordan was a man now and wanted to make his own way, find a wife and a trade.

But he couldn't leave father like this!

Returning across the farmyard, his walk at an end, there was of course no smoke from the chimney and the hogs were squalling for their supper.

Father had done nothing all day.

He gathered a peck of slops from the bin and poured it into the trough, which served to quiet the farm considerably. Now to start supper.

When he reached the door it opened and father stood there, blocking his way.

"Dad! You're up! Can I get you something? Some food?"

He didn't respond, but just looked at Jordan with hurt in his eyes. After a time he spoke.

"Son, you have to leave."

"What? I can't leave! You need me!"

"You need your own life. I'm no use to you; the farm is no use to you. Your path is elsewhere.

"And with you here, I am reminded of what I've lost every minute of every day!"

That hurt. Jordan knew he looked a lot like his mother.

"What will you do? Who will cook? Who will split wood when autumn comes?"

"I may find a farm boy to come by.

"Not your concern, Jordan! I want you out tomorrow. So I can mourn alone!

"And so you can get on with your life. Y]We both know you will not leave, unless I force you."

He turned and reentered the house. Jordan followed.

A little angry, he determined to leave immediately instead of waiting until tomorrow.

Gathering his pack, putting in a Johnny-cake from yesterday, a wineskin of last year's press. Casting around he spied a cake of salt, and put that in too.

Going to the door he looked back at his father, who sat by the fire looking blankly at the ashes.

"Where will you go?" father asked.

Jordan considered.

"There's an old Crone in the woods who could use a strong young back. I'll try there."

His father nodded, continued to look away. Jordan went out the door and closed it.

The farmyard seemed pathetic now - mud and straw and stone. Quiet, the sound of a bird, the hogs snuffling, that was all.

He set out without looking back.

At sunset he reached the edge of the moor.

The moon was full which helped until he got fully into the wood. Then only a bare moonbeam here and there would pick out the path, the dense canopy shrouding everything in velvet black.

Half the night was gone when he spied a clearing ahead. The cold seemed to close in; the air became dank.

A broken stone wall paralleled his way thru the gap in the forest, the stones thick with moss and stained black by age.

It separated the path from a derelict house with a crooked chimney. Black smoke rose from that, the only sign of habitation.

The yard had flowerbeds but the flowers were blacked stumps. What might be a house yard contained grave markers with blank faces where names should be.

Through a grimy window he saw flickering light! Someone was there.

He vaulted the wall which felt strangely smooth on his hand, approached the door, knocked, waited.

The door creaked open, the hinges shrieking from age and neglect. The Crone poked her head out, peered at him in the dark.

In a reedy voice she spoke.

"You are here to help? Yes? I saw that you would come."

He was confused, then remembered rumors about her skills. They said she was a witch, could conjure and foretell the future.

Without waiting for his answer, she raised a bony arm and pointed with a black fingernail.

"You may sleep in the cow shed. I will show you your duties in the daylight!"

She slammed the door.

Interview over! Well, he guessed he had the job.

Picking his way between old broken headstones, he found the cow shed under the shade at the forest edge. Old oaks loomed over it, and the wood shingles were mossy and broken.

Peering inside he saw a lumpy floor of ancient cow manure, some stalls in the back. He found one with a working door and a relatively clean floor.

Piling some straw to make a bed, he sat. Fooling with his pack he withdrew the Johnny-cake and nibbled, sipped at his wineskin.

The shed was gloomy, but no light shone through the roof - rain would not bother him in any case!

Hearing some scuffling outside his stall he worried some devilish vermin might invade his slumbers.

Remembering old stories he scraped some salt from his cake and spread it under the stall door. That would repel small evils.

Using his pack for a pillow he settled in for the night.

Sleep did not come quickly.

Considering the Crone, he remembered her reputation. A witch!

But he didn't fear witches. They were often helpful, and only did you harm if you offended them.

Like anybody else he supposed.

He decided daylight would answer his questions. There was nothing to learn by spinning his mind.

Briefly worrying about father, concerned the man might not have eaten today, he drifted into uneasy slumbers.

He awoke in a dim dawn. Slightly less gloomy that the night, still not bright daylight.

Stretching and stumbling out of the shed he saw the house more clearly under the grey light.

It looked perhaps worse!

The siding was streaked with rusty stains. The roof was incomplete, and could not possibly keep out the rain. The chimney tilted at an alarming angle!

As he stood considering, his hands on his hips, wondering where to begin the front door opened.

The Crone staggered out, a slop bucket in one hand.

"Jordan! Time to make yourself useful! Feed my little pets in the paddock!"

She set the bucket down and pointed with bony hand and black fingernail, past the house where the stone partitioned off a field.

A trough was set inside the enclosure along the front.

Gladly he took the bucket and carried it easily to the trough. He poured it into the shallow raised stone container, the gluey contents plopping into the channel and spreading in a sickly puddle.

Scanning the paddock for the 'pets', he saw to his alarm a trio of bears lumbering toward him! They covered the ground at an alarming rate.

He froze.

Fortunately they slowed as they approached the trough. Two immediately began to snuff and slurp up the greenish swill. The third actually climbed into the trough before licking at the sticky fluid.

They could clearly jump the stone wall without effort. The pen must be to keep critters out, not keep the 'pets' in!

Backing away slowly, he remembered the pail and snagged it, returned to the house.

"You like my pets? Sweet things they are! My pride!"

"Y-yes ma'am. I'm sure they are gentle as lambs."

"Oh no! Not that gentle! But my pets all the same."

"What can I do next ma'am? Should I start on the house?"

"The house will be no concern of yours" she replied evasively. "It's the outside work I'm needing help with.

"You see, I spend my days selling small magics to help with women's' troubles. Then I spend my evening crafting more.

"I have no time for the wood, the water, gathering the necessary herbs! That I would have you do."

He brightened. "Wood and water are soon done, ma'am! The herbs, if you only show me what and where, I'm sure I can do as well."

"Excellent! We shall get along famously then! The axe is beside the cow shed; the wood pile behind the house. The cistern back there as well."

She turned and reentered her front door, then snaked one arm out and turned over a blank board hanging beside - Enter! it now said.

Was her voice different today? Not as reedy and gruff? Perhaps she was warming to him. Perhaps she'd just slept well and felt better. No matter.

Walking to the shed he heard footsteps on the path. Turning to look he saw a figure walking slowly through the wood on the path, and another some distance behind. Customers already?

Well, not his concern. He fetched the axe and found the woodpile.

Some badly sawn logs were piled beside a heavy block, much-scarred by the axe. He got to work.

In an hour he had the few logs split, the firewood stacked. It was not a large stack; he'd need to cut more.

In that time half a dozen people he'd heard enter the house, converse with the Crone, leave. One at a time, they seemed nervous when they arrived but confident when leaving.

Some sat waiting on a bench out front, as the Crone admitted only one at a time.

It seemed the Crone meant to please each customer and send them away satisfied!

Taking the bucket and rope from a small well, he lowered and raised it several times and carried it to the back of the house, tipping the water into the cistern set high against the wall.

In this way the Crone had water piped from the cistern convenient to each need, kitchen or bath.

That done he shouldered the axe and headed into the wood.

Passing a clearing thick with herbs, he guessed this was where she gathered her supplies. Not knowing which was what, he passed it by and continued for a distance.

Finding a fine dead tree, he set to work hewing at its base. In a few minutes with a crack! it fell.

Another hour and it was limbed. But how to saw the trunk? He'd not seen a decent saw in the shed. Oh well.

He laboriously hewed a log from the small end. Shouldering that with the axe he returned to the house.

He found the witch in the yard with an armload of his newly-cut wood.

"Very good! I see you don't need prodding, but can find work yourself. The best kind of help!"

"Yes ma'am. Do you think there is a proper saw to be had in the shed?"

"Oh there was a saw; the last boy lost it down the well. I'll deal with that later. I think today you can call good enough on the wood and water.

"I will have need of herbs tonight for my crafting. I'll bring a basket and one of the herbs I'll need for you to learn. I'll take you to the clearing where more can be found."

She disappeared inside then came out with a shallow basket made of tightly woven reed.

Jordan took the basket. "I passed a clearing full with herb, when cutting wood! If you have an herb to show, I think I can manage."

She smiled a crooked-toothed smile, her ghastly face lighting up with simple pleasure. He was beginning to find her face, not endearing, but familiar.

"There is one in the basket, a little withered but you could mayhap find what I need from that!"

She took another armload of wood and went inside, leaving him to his chores.

Retracing his steps he soon found the clearing. Comparing the little withered herb with such as were growing there, he decided the spikey one with little violet flowers in a spray and elongated toothed leaves was surely a match.

They were fugitive among the taller herbs, so it took more than an hour of stooping and peering to find enough to fill the basket.

It was nearing noon as far as he could tell when he returned to the hut. Knocking at the back door he heard a Halloo! from around the front.

Crossing around he found his employer on the waiting bench, with a small tray of cheese and bread. No customers were in evidence.

"Come, hungry lad! The young must be fed or they grow pensive! Sit!"

He willingly sat. Taking the bread and cheese offered from her palsied hands, he made short work of lunch.

Wood cutting was hard work!

She smiled her gummy smile, to see him eat so.

They finished the lunch, the old woman consuming a surprising amount given her limited teeth, then sat companionably.

After a bit,

"You don't talk when you have nothing to say! I'm liking you more!"

He smiled, deliberately not answering, getting another grin from her.

"I'll have no customers this afternoon; the village wives are busy with washing day and the virgins, preparing for the holiday.

"In honor of St Vitus you may have the afternoon to explore the farm, settle your quarters, whatever your idle fancy desires."

He considered.

"I could wash the siding; the stains are unsightly?"

She shook her head an emphatic No!

"My house will be no concern of yours; I've made that clear?"

He looked abashed; she relented.

"The wives must find the Crone in a hovel, else they won't respect my skills!"

"But the house is nearly fallen down! Surely some..."

Another head shake No! She changed the subject.

"You may find it a lark to follow the stream up to the hill; there lies a pool where you may while away a pleasant afternoon."

He agreed, brushed the crumbs from his lap and stood. She stood too, quite gracefully for her advanced age and apparent feebleness, took the basket and tray and went inside.

The creek entered the wood behind, so visiting the cowshed to retrieve his pack he set out.

As he wandered the wood, following the stream, the gloom abated and the day became fine!

Was the gloom limited to the hag's clearing? That was an interesting idea.

She was clearly a powerful witch; her steady customers showed that to be true.

Why should she not be able to control the clearing and its aspect?

Anyway he enjoyed the afternoon. A walk through new woods gave him plenty to look at - flowers thriving in stray patches of sunlight; ancient trees so tall and broad; the sound of the brook and the birds!

He found the pool by falling into it. Pushing through some bracken he faced a muddy bank and slipped.

Sploosh! He came up sputtering!

No matter; the cool water washed off the sweat and dust of the trail. And his pack was none the worse for it; made of oilcloth, it was nearly waterproof.

Stripping his shirt and tossing it on the bank with his pack, he dove and swam.

His pants quickly became waterlogged. He wriggled out of them, tossed them on the bank as well.

It felt so wonderful to feel the cool stream water against his skin! He floated on his back with just his face, chest and toes exposed to the sun.

And his dick; that peeked out of the water as well, bumped this way and that by the ripples he had set into motion with his exertions.

He climbed out and lay in the shade a moment, drying in the cool breeze, closed his eyes against the bright light.

When he opened them, having napped for some time it was to hear splashing in the pool.

Was some animal sharing his glen?

Sitting up, he saw what, moss? floating on the surface.

It quickly resolved when a fair face popped up amid the swirl of hair!

She tossed her head to clear her face, then flashed a smile in his direction and bobbed up to dive again.

Her bare shoulders appeared briefly, then her torso went under, then butt, strong legs and lastly her cute tiny feet. Then she was gone.

The pool was still but for the ripple she'd left. Where was she?

Her clothes were piled on the far bank. With some concern he scooted to the bank's edge to peer in the water.

With a surge, she erupted from the pool under his face. Scrubbing the water from her eyes, she saw him, darted her head forward to kiss him!

Then she turned to splash off across the pool. He saw a brief image of her perfect breast with delicate puffy nipples, a lean stomach and then her strong back was turned and she was off, swimming confidently.

Her kicking feet splashed him, dousing his face and shoulders with cold water. Deliberate!

Rising to his feet he leaped into the water in a surface dive and swam after her.

She got to the other bank just before him, turned to see him fast approaching and shrieked! her surprise.

Thinking fast she dove deep, disappeared into the depths yet again.

He paused and treaded water, uncertain what to do next.

Something grabbed his ankle, pulled! He went under, his indrawn breath becoming a mouthful of water.

His ankle was freed, and he saw a flash of naked girl streaking off like a fish.

Surfacing he gasped and sputtered for a moment, then got his bearings and headed after her again.

She'd surfaced by a small waterfall, where the stream filled the pool. He approached cautiously.

The bottom came up so he could wade.

She crouched, in a vain attempt to cover her nakedness. Still her astonishingly sweet neck, shoulders and breasts were above water, wet and shining.

She tried right, then quickly left! He countered, arms held wide.

Grinning she tried to dive, but as it was shallow here he reached in and grabbed her around the waist as she tried to slither by.

Heaving her from the water she came up a struggling wildcat, arms and legs thrashing, water sheeting off her. Holding her high from behind with no purchase for her feet, he easily held her suspended in the air.

"Stop struggling you minx! I caught you fair and square!"

She stilled her struggles. He suddenly became aware he was holding a beautiful naked girl, skin to skin, his arms around her slim waist, her back against his chest, her cute bottom pressed to his dick.

"Ok you win!" her voice was sweet. "Let me down, and I'll leave you be!"

He considered.

"How do I know you won't splash me again?"

She laughed. "I will! But no matter, as you're wet already.

"And how do I know you won't run me through with that sword?" she asked sassily.

"Wha..sword.." he became aware his dick was growing stiff, painfully trapped between them. Clutching a naked young female to his bosom had had it's natural effect.

He dropped her unceremoniously, and she plunged to the bottom with a squeal!

His dick bobbed, released from it's confinement to his relief.

She quickly recovered, crouching in the shallows, turned to face him. Looking him up and down appraisingly, she lunged!

Grabbing his dick and balls with one hand, she used her leverage to push him backward with the other! He lost his footing and fell back.

He had the wit to take a full breath before he went under, and not choke.

She followed him down, submerged as he went under, both drifting down into the deep, hand still grasping his dick. Not cruelly but firmly.

He didn't struggle, as she could easily squeeze or pull his tender parts and cause him much harm.

He found himself suspended in the deep forest pool, the sunlight filtering down to illuminate a grinning madwoman floating by his waist, attached to his cock, now with both hands!

They floated that way for a heartbeat and then two, frozen in time and space.

She bent her head down and took him in her mouth!

Suppressing the urge to gasp or cry out, he froze. She did not. She continued to hold his prick, mouth and tongue wandering over it, then her lips sealing around the shaft.

With a bobbing motion she began to jerk him off with two hands and her mouth!

He withstood the unfamiliar stimulation for only a few strokes. Feeling a sudden pressure in his balls, his hips began to jerk. His cock pulsed and his cum spewed forth!

She didn't cough or choke, as she was still holding her breath of course. She stroked him a few times more, letting his cum stream out around her mouth and drift away.

It floated in blobs, twisting and swirling and spreading into gossamer veils of spume that dissolved in the filtered light.

Then she released him, jackknifed like some sea mermaid, pushed her feet against the bottom and shot away through the water.

He floated a moment more, his cock finishing it's pleasant spasms. Then pinwheeled his arms to regain his upright posture, his head broke the surface.

He just breathed for a time, his spent cock twitching in the water, taking in the air and regaining his senses.

Turning to survey the pool he spied her already lying on the bank.

He lazily paddled over and heaved himself onto the grass.