I Will Work Hard Ch. 01

Author's Note: This story is the third installment of my "Rarity" series. The order of the stories should be on my profile's biography. I think this story doesn't have much conflict in it at all. I wanted to write something happy and adorable. This story will involve centaurs. All graphically described sexual content in my stories involve characters that are at least 18 years old.

*****

Oxen and draft horses were both too expensive for her family to own, too expensive for most families in the community to own, but they were necessary for the work. So, every family provided a small amount of money to they could collectively pay for and share the creatures.

On this dark, early morning, Hulda was with one quiet draft horse on a plot of land. The animal was dutifully pulling a plow along, preparing the soil for the crops that would be planted soon. Hulda was gripping the handles of the plow, making sure it cultivated the soil properly. Her older brother was walking up and down the soft soil that had been prepared, stopping to plant seeds. The whole family was working, really.

Even though her face was hot and wet with tears from her eyes and a bit of mucus from her nose.

Even though her brother was coldly refusing to speak to her.

Even though she had no more investment in this land.

Even though she was going to leave and never return.

By the time the field had been pregnant with seeds, a male dwarf had arrived with a carriage pulled and guarded by horse people. What were they called? Centaurs, right? They were creepy to look at, and it was weird to see how they were arranged. There weren't any reins on them. The dwarf sitting on the driver's seat wasn't really driving at all. The centaurs pulling the carriage were the ones driving. Two centaurs, wearing fancy looking padded armor and keeping close to the vehicle, seemed to be the guards. Why they needed guards was beyond Hulda's understanding at first. She had never traveled anywhere except for the local marketplace. She didn't know what traveling anywhere else was like.

Then she realized that bandits were a thing, and that was probably the reason for the guards.

The sun was rising. The little wood and straw house she had grown up in, as ordinary and dull as it was, looked so pretty in the orange and blue air. It wasn't the only house there; there were several around. Still, to Hulda, that house she had called home all her life was the loveliest building in the world. The reason why she thought so was probably because she knew she'd never see the house again.

Her father had to stop his work to go to the dwarf. Their conversation seemed far away. Hulda wasn't listening to it. Her toes were flexing in the dirt. Her fingers trembled in the autumn air.

Then she heard her father's yelling. "Get over here, Hulda!!"

She didn't even say goodbye to anyone in her family. Obedient, but shaking, Hulda left the plow to go to where the dwarf was. He seemed quite ugly to her, wide and cruel looking, and his belly stuck out like the swelling stomach of a woman with child.

Hulda looked at the carriage's plain door. She heard what she thought had to be coins bouncing and clanging in a pouch. Then she heard her father tell her to climb into the carriage, and she did so.

Inside, there were several women who looked pretty much like her, like ordinary farming girls. The shocking part was that they were chained to the seats in the carriage. Hulda nearly bolted out of the vehicle. She had to remind herself that there was nothing to do about the situation, and then she exhaled and waited while the dwarf left his seat to restrain her. Her wrists were put in metal cuffs; she felt like a prisoner.

And as she was carried away, she wondered about her future.

A wife, huh?

Somewhere out there, a horse man needed a wife.

Disgusting!!

***

Ehlov didn't believe he was ready for a wife. But, Pa was his master, and Ma was his mistress. Both of them demanded a new woman, and there weren't any single nubile women around. It was a sensible situation. Ehlov was the youngest out of three sons. The eldest sons normally got the first opportunity to purchase a bride, and they would almost always pick a native. The youngest sons were usually left with only a foreigner as an opportunity.

So, not only was Ehlov expected to find a wife, and soon, he had to pick a woman who needed a longer Soothing than a native. All this pressure added to his extra work as a Carriage Man. So much work, so much stress, and then there was all the money he'd been burying. There was always the concern that someone might steal some of it, literal years worth of money!!

Ever since he was fourteen years old, he had spent half of every year away from the farms in Korelanda Village to earn a living as a Carriage Man, pulling the vehicles of dwarves all around. The dwarves preferred paying the centaurs a fee instead of taking care of a horse. Horses had to be fed, groomed, and given sleeping quarters. Not only that, when they became ill, one had to figure out the problem because horses couldn't speak any language other than "horse." Centaurs would take their money and care for themselves, and when they were ill, they could describe their symptoms, making life so much easier for doctors.

This was considered to be good work, especially for the younger sons in families. Dwarves would put horseshoes on their hooves and pay them well for their work. Sometimes, a Carriage Man wouldn't even pull a vehicle. Sometimes, he simply carried a single dwarf on his back for a quick ride somewhere.

It was different in nations other than Breden and Duklok. The people there preferred horses. Horses were charming in their own right, but for a centaur who hadn't seen them before, they were the most confusing creatures in the world. It was difficult to explain the feeling. Perhaps ... if a human were to see a creature with normal human legs and a torso of a fish, or a bear, or an insect, or something completely unknown, the human might understand the feeling a centaur would have when seeing a horse for the first time.

In these other nations where horses were preferred, the dwarves and centaurs would travel only in certain towns and cities. The majorities of these foreign nations didn't have accommodations for centaurs, and centaurs didn't want to sleep near horses. Horses defecated whenever the need came to them. They couldn't control themselves as a centaur could. They also tended to be spooked by the stupidest, most harmless nonsense. So, only certain locations that had buildings made for centaurs were used for their trading and such. Tourism was out of the question.

And there weren't many prostitutes willing to serve them. Both humans and dwarves had these buildings called brothels, a concept unheard of in Breden. In a typical human city or town, the brothels were not built for centaurs, and the snobby women there didn't want to even try to deal with them. There were inns built with centaurs in mind, though, and an occasional female employee might be brave or desperate enough to sell her services there.

Duklok had brothels built for both dwarves and centaurs. A centaur couldn't impregnate a dwarf. As long as a centaur was clean, a dwarven prostitute was often eager to please, and they were usually fairly young, too. As for Breden, the only women selling their services were older wives or widows, and they usually did the work in their homes. Compared to dwarves, Breden women weren't always eager to please. They considered their roles to be similar to a teacher, and they tended to be very demanding, but their customers were often happy to learn.

For all the years Ehlov had worked as a Carriage Man, he could count the times he sought out a woman's touch with one hand. His peers tended to spend more of their money, and not just on women. An excess of beer and food was also popular with the Carriage Men. They liked to party.

Ehlov was different. Of course, he ate and drank, but never to excess. He hoarded his coins as if he was in desperate poverty.

And when he returned home, he put the coins in boxes and buried them. Sometimes, his family members would call him a puppy or a dog because of this habit. Only his father really knew what was in the boxes, though. The rest of the family assumed that he mostly buried souvenirs from his travels. He wouldn't have been the first Carriage Man to hide his cheap little treasures that had glimpses of the outside world. Some of those men even buried their old and used horseshoes just because they thought that would bring them luck.

But now, thanks to his parents, he had to spend a bit of money on a woman, and it wouldn't be cheap. Well, it wouldn't be anywhere near what a middle class or upper class man would pay for a wife, but even a peasant woman had value to her, and Ehlov was too proud to let Pa spend his money, as a father normally would in this circumstance.

Nope. Ehlov wasn't going to let that happen.

He skipped his work as a Carriage Man this year, as his parents had asked. He agreed to get a wife, as his parents had asked. But, he wasn't going to let Pa give up any money to get the woman. Ehlov would bear that responsibility with pride.

Still, he wished he'd been a Carriage Man this year. He was able to reach his dream, but he had wanted to buy a few extra nice things for whatever woman he'd eventually have.

It wasn't really so bad, though. His dream was still there, waiting for him.

So, as the two older sons pulled plows down the fields on the cool autumn morning, Ehlov, his father, Yann, and his mother, Sasha, left to get a woman. They had made an appointment with a Purveyor and an Examiner a month in advance. They went to a stone building that was just outside the peasants' community.

Inside the building, the Purveyor and his employees displayed five different women with bound wrists and ankles, all of them sturdy looking.

"Do you like how these girls look?" Ehlov's mother asked as she adjusted her position on his father's second back, scratching at her hair under the gray fabric wrapped around her head. "I'm not nasty enough to make you pick an ugly woman."

That wasn't too important. Ehlov had different qualifications in mind. He pulled a few average pebbles from one of his pouches and gave each woman a test. Before each woman's face, he held up the pebbles, and he told each woman to count them. Then he told them to pretend each particular color represented a number, and to add the values up, and then he changed the values of the colors to ask for a different answer.

The woman who counted the best was rather pretty according to his standards. That hadn't been a worry for him, but it was an extra little perk. Her face had a soft roundness to it, and her eyes were only slightly far apart. The overall shape of her face was almost childlike, but not quite, because she was clearly a woman. Even her nose had a sweetness to it, round and button-like. Her skin was just as tanned as his, which was a good sign for him. As of right now, his family needed a working woman.

"You're so worried about her counting stones," Ma said before spitting out onto the bare dirt floor. "I don't see the point."

Pa said to her, "It'll be his wife. Let him do what he wants."

Ehlov liked the freckles on the woman's round face. The uppity, rich people didn't normally like many freckles on a woman, but Ehlov wasn't one of those types. The freckles were everywhere on that cute little face, like stars. If he ever grew to care for this woman, he knew he'd call her Starlight.

And those lips were pretty too, thick and pouty. The wide set eyes had pretty hooded eyelids, long and curly lashes, and irises the green color of a raw, fresh artichoke. He noticed a mild redness in those eyes, and a bit of puffiness. She probably had been crying recently.

Her eyebrows were dark. Was her hair dark too? She had a cloth on her head. So, he asked to have it removed.

The Purveyor went to the woman and tugged the cloth off of the woman. Black hair was there, braided into a modest knot near her nape. The Purveyor untied the knot and loosened the braids. The woman's wavy hair was surprisingly thick and long enough to tickle her dirty little ankles.

Another good sign of health.

"Let me see your mouth," Ehlov said to the woman.

She sighed, blinked, and then she opened her mouth.

There was a tiny gap between her front teeth. That was the only thing about her mouth that could be called a flaw by anyone, though, and Ehlov didn't think it was a flaw at all.

"I'll have this one," he said, "but I want her examined first."

"Have you hired an Examiner?" the Purveyor asked.

"I have, but he's late, the stupid beast."

Pa told him, "Don't bother with an Examiner. If you find out she's diseased, you could sell her back to the Purveyor."

Ehlov's brown eyes rolled up so fiercely that it hurt. He groaned out, "Why waste time like a fool?"

Just then, the Examiner came, reeking of alcohol as Examiners normally do. He was pushing his chestnut hair under his hat and panting a bit. "I'm sorry! So sorry! I didn't mean to stir up trouble! One of my cases dragged the morning along!"

Ehlov stomped on the dirt floor with his back leg. Then he snorted and folded his arms as he gave the Examiner an impatient look. "I'm taking ten Tekans out of your fee!" It wasn't a very large amount when compared to the remainder, but Ehlov wanted to make a point.

Nodding, the Examiner said, "Yes, yes. I understand. Which one do you want me to look at?"

Ehlov gestured towards the dark haired woman he was so curious about. "This one."

The Examiner rushed to his job, picking the dark haired woman up and carrying her off to another room. The poor girl truly started crying then. She almost sounded like a cat.

Ehlov ignored the rest of the women for sale and chatted with his parents while he waited for the Examiner to finish. They could still hear the faint wailing of the woman Ehlov wanted.

With a yawn, Ma asked, "Is she going to cry all the way home?"

"I think so," Pa said, rubbing his nape with his withered hand.

Ma shook her head. Clear disapproval was on her aged face. "I'll have to hush her up."

"Be soft about it," Pa told her.

Ehlov nodded towards his father, but he spoke to his mother. "Yes. Please be soft. Anyone can see the woman doesn't want to be here."

A little more time passed, and the wailing faded into something much quieter. Then, the Examiner returned to them, carrying a very limp looking version of the miserable woman. He put her back in her place and said, "She's healthy, and I think she's a virgin, but she honestly didn't want me to touch her. It was impossible to succeed with her."

"That's all good." Ehlov turned to the Purveyor and said, "I'll take her. Put the cloth back on her head, and then we'll talk money."

***

"He's the master," the old woman said, pointing her aged finger at the head of the centaur she was so casually sitting on, as if she felt entitled to ride such a creature. Hulda didn't understand it. She had always assumed that centaurs would be too proud, or too mean, to let anyone ride them, especially a woman.

"But," and here, the old woman pointed at her face, her brown eyes unforgiving, "I'm the mistress. You answer to me, got that?"

Hulda nodded, trying to focus on the old woman, but the younger centaur was distracting her. He had cut away the ropes around her wrists and ankles, and now he was putting a peculiar harness around her torso. A great leash of leather was attached to her back, and it was attached to another harness. She soon learned that was meant to be belted to the centaur's horse-like body. Both the young and the old centaurs were just like draft horses, muscular and strong.

"Alright. Good." The woman sniffed up something very solid sounding, and she spat mucus out onto the floor. Hulda realized that she was also wearing a harness. The slack of the leash was looped up and hung on a hook of a belt on the older centaur she was sitting on. "Your face looks like water sloshing in a bucket. Are you staring at the leashes?"

Hulda didn't want to admit that she was, but her fingers nervously tugged on the leather straps that had been put over her clothing. She felt like a squirrel or a dog.

The old woman said to her, "You'll have to be attached to a man when you're not in the house, got it?"

Hulda nodded, her lips scrunching up.

"It's for your own protection," the old woman added, "and you'd better not remove it when you're outside. You're worth money and time. Anyone could pick you up and take you from your family."

For ... protection? Hulda's nose twitched and wrinkled. Her eyebrows moved down as she watched the younger centaur secure the safety device. Then he adjusted a mat on his horse-like back and spoke to her. His voice reminded Hulda of a sack of oats being emptied into a trough.

"What's your name?"

Hulda thought his face was like a square. Like all the other centaurs she had seen, his nose was big, with suitably round nostrils somewhat like a horse's. His eyes were like the old woman's, as cold and brown as shavings of tree bark scattering onto snow.

Focusing on the centaur's firm chin, she answered, "Hulda."

He nodded down to her, and a great bit of air burst out from his nostrils. "I'm Ehlov. I'm your husband now." His head tilted once in a gesture towards the older woman and centaur. "That woman is Sasha, my Ma. The man is my Pa, Yann."

Ehlov and Yann certainly looked similar enough to be related. They both had golden brown coats and pale blond tails. Their hair was probably blond, but both men were wearing plain caps that covered their heads. Hulda couldn't immediately know the truth of their hair colors.

Hulda shook the useless thoughts out of her head. Then she tried to sniff down her heartache.

The rough voice of her new husband shot down to her ears. "Climb onto my back. I'll carry you."

It was slightly difficult to obey, but she tried. The only creature she had ever ridden was a donkey, and centaurs were much taller than donkeys. She managed well enough, though, and when she was finally seated on the centaur, he handed her a new belt. "Put our waists together," Ehlov ordered very bluntly. "It's to keep you from falling off of me."

Hulda thought it was stupid, but she belted their waists together.

"Are you comfortable?" Ehlov asked.

Nope.

"I'm comfortable."

"Good," Ehlov said, starting to walk out of the stone building. His parents followed.

As the centaurs picked up a bit of speed, trotting along, Sasha addressed Hulda again. "Ehlov's my youngest boy. I got two others. They have their wives, and those women were born and raised here. Those women are both above you, and you'd better listen to them. They're good women who know what to do. Their husbands are good men, and because they're good men, they'll very softly ask you to listen to their wives, or to me."

As Hulda turned her head back to look at Sasha, her lower lip stuck out and her stomach fluttered at the possibility of being the lowest ranking person in the family. She hoped they'd fed her decently.

"My eldest boy has a son named Johnan, and my second eldest has a baby girl named Dagny. You'll be helping Johnan in the house for now, but you'll also feed the chickens, milk the cow, and anything else that needs to be done."

Hulda's eyes widened as she wondered how in the world they could afford a cow, and a cow for milking, no less! There were families in her home that had dairy cows, but hers hadn't been one of them. Dairy cows had to be fed more than beef cows, and her family definitely couldn't afford to care for a beef cow.