Orin The Great Ch. 03

The Trouble At Sleepy Glenn

The next morning found the two men approaching the quiet stillness of the pond. They carried both their weapons and their packs, as men who live on the road are wont to do. The men set these items far enough away from the water that they would not get wet, but close enough that they could reach them quickly if need be.

"What have you been taught of how to go about washing yourself, Orin?" Bartram asked.

The younger man recalled his wise father's words. "In times of trouble, wash only under your arms, around your cock, and up your arse!"

Bartram chuckled, for he'd heard the saying before. It was meant to be both instructive, and a snipe at the listener at the same time. "And in times of peace?"

"Let the water flow, from your head down to your toes, for another chance to wash comes when God only knows."

"A bit fancy, that." Bartram considered. "Unless you happen to be a poet. I've a simpler one: When you smell like the pigpen, water is a good friend. Now since this is not at all a time of trouble..."

Orin watched as the archer tossed his hat onto the rest of his belongings. A moment after, his belt-sash had joined it. Bartram then tugged at the edges of his worn tunic and lifted the garment up and over his head. His chest and arms boasted of muscle that had once been proud and taut, but that had been rarely exerted and largely neglected as of late. Bartram's belly was more soft than rigid, but it was not the round paunch of a man who sat around all day eating and drinking. Several scars were evident on the archer's arms, and a longer blemish was seen on his ribs.

When Bartram kicked off his boots, and began shucking off his leggings, Orin turned away. He knelt at the edge of the pond and ran his fingers through its reflective surface.

"The water is cold." He said.

Bartram laughed. "You gauge the pond as a woman would."

Orin turned, witnessing a fully nude Bartram crouched and rummaging through his pack, until he brought out a short bar of lye soap. "And how exactly would a man gauge the pond?"

"Like this!" The older man shot forward by a few strides and jumped into the water.

The splash was both large and unexpected, and caught Orin so much by surprise that he gasped and fell back on his rump. Thankfully, Bartram was in the water and had not witnessed his startled reaction.

"Certainly, the water is cold!" The archer called out, once he had emerged from it up to the waist. "But it invigorates a man to feel such a thing. I tell you, it reminds me that I still draw breath, and that the blood still courses through my body!"

As the water reached only to his middle, Bartram sought out a more profound depth. Once it was up to his chest he dunked his head in. Heavy streams poured from his face and hair when he drew his head out.

"Besides, the body will quickly acclimate itself." Bartram went on. "And we do have the morning sun to bless us with its warmth. Now, will you join me in a wash or will you go as you are to the festival in Sleepy Glen?"

Orin found himself reluctant to shed his clothes before the older man, in light of what he'd learned of Bartram's... tendencies. In the end, however, his desire to make the best impression of himself won over and he soon began undressing.

Orin did notice that Bartram watched him very closely as he stripped. "My father once told me, if any man were to cast his eye upon me for too long, he is either devising some deviltry or he wishes to incite strife. Which is it, Bartram? Are we to come to blows?"

The archer considered the young man's words. Orin had thought Bartram a mere vagabond all this time, a drifter, and possibly a coward, who'd shunted society and had chosen instead to live on its fringe. He found himself surprised that Bartram did not immediately back down from his challenge.

"I am a man of well over thirty years, Orin." He replied wistfully. "Were I even five years younger, I would not hesitate to lift my fists against you, but alas, I have felt from you a strength I cannot hope to match. Stand up straight, so that I can gain a full measure of you."

The archer's words were full of authority, as if he did not expect to be refused. Orin did stand tall before him, fully nude, his jaw hard-set and his eyes focused.

"I'm afraid I may have misjudged you, Orin." Bartram admitted. "Due to the cut of your clothes and your youthful mannerisms, I thought you a gangly and immature sort. Now that I see you unclothed, I can tell that you are no mere boy. Answer me truthfully, has your father trained you as a man of war?"

"He has."

"If this is to be your profession, then why have you chosen to conceal it?"

Orin opened his mouth to answer, but he was cut off by a sudden shriek from close behind him.

"There you are, you pair of black-dealing bastards!"

It was the witch, Sundri, who had followed their tracks from the campsite and was even now trudging toward them.

"I knew you pair of goats would renege on our deal!"

Upon hearing those last few words, Orin dismissed any thoughts of the water being cold and jumped directly into the pond. The water shocked him at first, but he soon conquered that and aimed to put a good distance between himself and the witch.

"Come back here, you young deceiver!" Sundri yelled at him.

Bartram laughed at the commotion.

"You won't find it so amusing once I turn you into a salamander!" Sundri threatened. "Or when I dash your salamander head against a rock!"

Orin trembled, for who knew what corruptions the witch was capable of?

Bartram smugly crossed his arms. "You won't do that."

"And why not?"

"Because I know what you want."

"Well, of course you do! I want the two of you to fulfill your end of our bargain!"

"No, that's not what you truly want." Bartram began wading in her direction. "If all you wanted was a mere cockle, you would have entranced us as you did those two hares we ate last night. But you didn't do that, did you? I saw how you handled the straw doll last night, and I saw how you writhed on your cot while you frolicked with the two spirit lovers as well. What you truly seek, old woman, is affection. Natural affection from a willing man."

"Oh, you know nothing!" The witch spat back, but Orin had caught the flinch of her eyes, as if the archer's words had struck a nerve in her.

Sundri gasped, as Bartram left the water and stepped directly to her. She took in the look and wetness of his body, and the form of his manly cock.

"What do you hunger for, old woman?" Bartram teased.

He reached her, and Sundri no longer looked as dark and threatening as before, Orin compared. She looked, in a way, vulnerable.

Before Sundri could react against it, Bartram scooped her up in his arms. A moment after, he expelled a heavy grunt, sending Sundri flying through the air. She crashed into the pond as a whale might have done.

"How dare you throw me!" The old woman shrieked, the moment her head cleared the water. "I'll have my minions flay you for this!"

She was flung back into the pond, when Bartram jumped into the water next to her. Of a sudden, the two of them began wrestling, until Bartram's superior strength won over. He held the witch tight in his clutches. At that point, it seemed as if Sundri gave up the will to fight, as if she'd much rather remain in his arms.

"Into the drink we go!" Bartram announced, before he dunked the old woman into the pond.

Sundri emerged a few seconds later, sputtering and gasping.

"And again!" Bartram repeated the action.

This time, Sundri was wise enough to shut her mouth, and was not quite so distraught when Bartram brought her out again. Still, the archer kept his hold firm, pinning Sundri's arms against her body. The witch looked almost embarrassed at her capture and averted her eyes from Orin's.

"What do you mean to do?" She asked the archer, meekly.

"Why, I mean to wash you!" Bartram laughed. "When is the last time you bathed, woman?"

"It... it has been some time."

"Tell me, Sundri, can a woman be washed while wearing a garment?"

Sundri trembled as she shook her head. "No."

"You see that both Orin and I are nude, yes?" Bartram reminded her. "You won't mind then, if I remove your garment? No turning me into any kind of lizard?"

The witch said nothing, as Bartram lifted her single piece of wet clothing up and away from her slender body. She stood there, fully exposed from the waist up, partly defiant and also partly content that she was being paid attention to.

"Orin, would you fetch my lye soap for me?" Bartram requested.

The young man spotted the small bar floating in the water. Once he retrieved it, he made as if to toss it over.

"No, don't throw it." Bartram stopped him. "Walk it to us. There are some matters you should be aware of when it comes to dealing with women. That is, if Sundri here doesn't mind allowing me to point them out."

The witch said nothing, but Orin did notice that her back was pressed against Bartram's chest now, and that her hand had slipped into the space between their bodies. Wondering if the witch might have had her hand on the archer's cock, Orin waded toward the pair.

"Just as yourself, Orin, Sundri is not the person she seems to be at first impression." Bartram started off. "First thing, is that while she may be a recluse who has lived in the woods here for an unknown number of years..."

"Three." She said.

"She has not always lived this way." Bartram went on. "Her mannerisms are much more civilized than they are savage, even though she pretends otherwise. I noticed something else right away. Open your mouth, Sundri, and show Orin your teeth."

She did, briefly, sarcastically even.

"Sundri may have covered herself in dirt and grime, but her teeth have betrayed the truth of her." Bartram said. "Look at the state they're in. She has kept them up very well, hasn't she? This tells me that despite her outward appearances, Sundri is not wholly committed to abandoning some sort of refinement that she has previously known."

"You speak too much." She said, resignedly.

"What do you truly want, Sundri?"

"You already know."

"I do, but Orin is not well versed in the matters I speak of."

She sighed and gazed at the youth. "I once knew love, and then it became lost to me. I believe that one day, I will be able to find love once again. I only came to this place to forget the pain and loss of what I once had, but truly, this has been a most troublesome thing to forget. Even after being here so long, I am still not done grieving."

Bartram added, "It would be a good habit for you, Orin, to gauge the health of a woman's teeth straightaway, for it is a clue as to how she comports herself in other venues. Give the soap to Sundri, Orin, while I go to my pack to fetch my dagger."

"Why would you be needing that?" The witch spun around to face him.

"Do you see my hair, woman?" Bartram gestured at his head. "I cut my hair with my dagger. As your hair is all knots and tangles, I mean to get my dagger and cut it. This is the only way that I'd be willing to... to cockle you, as you say, and you'd best accept that now."

Apparently, Sundri had expected more in the way of resistance from him. "You will cockle me?"

"Now that I've seen what you had hidden underneath that misery of a rag you were wearing, of course I will! The only reservation I really harbored was having to lie with a smelly, dirty woman, but that situation can be readied by this pond and that bar of soap! Take that soap from Orin, and wash his body thoroughly, so that when you're finished with him, he might do the same to you." Having said this, Bartram slipped away.

"Give me the soap." Sundri motioned impatiently. "In the last three years, only a single man has slept with me. That was because he wanted his sight restored, after another witch had cursed him with blindness."

Orin smirked, as Sundri took the small bar from him. In truth, he had been studying the woman's body. She was slender in the waist and hips, with breasts that sagged, but were once the size and shape of apples. Sundri's skin was pale, but not unpleasing to his eyes. Her face was not as horrible to look at now that he saw her as a nude woman, and not as a fierce witch.

Sundri brushed the soap over Orin's chest, arms and back, hardly paying attention to him as she was fully preoccupied with thoughts of being bedded by Bartram.

"Into the water, boy." The witch directed. "Then come closer to the edge so that I can clean the rest of you."

Orin ducked down to rinse off the lye, although he found himself hesitant to reveal his bottom half to her, and this was not because he was being shy of being nude before her.

"Come, come, come." Sundri pressured.

The young man stepped forward, ascending the soft slope of the bottom of the pond. The water level shifted from his waist, to his thighs, and finally to his knees. On display to the entire world was his full erection.

Sundri stared at his hard cock as if she'd never before seen one, before she gave a quick laugh. "What lucky woman were you thinking of, boy?"

"I was thinking of none." Orin admitted. "I was simply taking in the sight of you."

The witch was left speechless for a moment, for she'd never considered that a man as young or as handsome as Orin might take any interest in an old hag like her. Finally, she said, "You have a fine form of you, and I see that you will be even more striking once you've finished filling out. You needn't seek out any women at all, Orin, for they will all come to you, in droves even. Mark my words, boy, you will be a good catch."

Orin remembered the sounds the witch had made, and the way she'd squirmed about the previous night. His lust for her grew. Softly, he said, "At this moment, my interest has been captured entirely by you."

Sundri's mouth quivered, expectantly, anxiously. "But you're just a boy, Orin. You can only ever be my fantasy, for I'm as old as your mother, or your even grandmother. Nothing more than that."

"Tell Orin how old you are." Bartram stepped back into the picture.

She looked away, as if embarrassed. "I am fifty years and three."

"A bit long in the tooth, isn't she?" Bartram teased.

"I don't care." Orin said, before he chuckled. "My cock doesn't seem to care either!"

"Perhaps we should delay your haircut until later, as we all know how impatient young men can be." Bartram said, as he sidled up behind the witch and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Another lesson, Orin, in the art of dealing with women."

"Not now, Bartram."

"Oh, you'll enjoy this one." Bartram insisted. "Sundri, give Orin your most provocative stare."

She did, and Orin took a step forward. He was only a couple of feet away from her now, his cock demanding him to step even closer.

"Take the soap from her, Orin." Bartram instructed.

"To hell with the soap!"

"Orin..."

In irritation, Orin nearly snatched it from the nude woman's hand.

"Come." Bartram said, as he led Sundri into slightly deeper water.

When they were all waist deep in the pond, the archer pulled Sundri's arms behind her back, causing her breasts to jut out.

"Wash her. Her shoulders, her sides, her waist, her breasts."

Orin wet the bar of lye as he took to the task. Bartram waited until he was done before he began to speak again.

"There are two types of women." Bartram divulged. "One type is the woman who wants her men to have a soft touch with her. These women expect poetry to be read to them, and their hair to be caressed, and for finery and jewelry to be purchased for them as their suitors attempt to woo them. The other type of woman is like Sundri. She expects a little more aggressiveness from her men. She is the type that wants her men to overpower her, and to take her in a way that a softer woman might call rough. She does appreciate a gift now and then, but she knows these are mere trinkets and baubles, and that the real bond she wants with a man is a carnal one. This type of woman doesn't hide behind a man in times of trouble. She stands beside him and weathers the trouble with him."

Even as enthralled as he was, Orin still caught the implications of this. "Are you saying that Sundri is a contrast to Rohanna?"

"I am." Bartram nodded. "I'm not telling you that you should prefer one type over the other, for only you will decide which type of woman you will fancy. What I am trying to impress upon you is that you will be much better off if you know straightaway which type of woman you are dealing with."

Orin took this all in.

Bartram went on. "Now, take a close look at Sundri. See how her body is responding to you, for not every woman will be as easy to read as this. Her eyes beckon you, and her lips await you. Her cheeks are flushed and her breasts have perked up. All these are signs that she is willing for you to take her. Some women will deceive you into thinking that they are willing, and they may even be able to feign some of these signs. It is these very same women you should be wary of. Be watchful of these signs."

"I see." Orin acknowledged.

"Come closer." Bartram told him. "Set your hands on Sundri's breasts. Feel how they've swollen and how aroused her nipples are."

Orin fondled the old woman, as he'd fondled Rohanna the night before. Their breasts felt completely different. Rohanna's had been soft, malleable, and too large for his hands to cup. Sundri's were tighter, her nipples darker, condensed and more rigid to his fingers.

"A woman cannot feign what her body has already revealed." Bartram said. "And there is another sign a woman cannot feign. Take your finger, Orin, and slide it into Sundri's middle."

"Yes, Orin." The witch arched her back, as if Bartram's arms were barely keeping her in place. "Do it, Orin. You've gotten me so hot now."

Orin's hand glided down the supple stretch of Sundri's stomach, and past the wiry thatch of her hair. He found her mound, and his own head began to swoon at the thought that he might be prodding Sundri into expelling those same wonderful noises he'd heard the night before. She mewled at him, as he searched for her void. After finding it, slowly, he inserted his finger inside of her and felt the heat and moisture smothering it.

"Is she wet for you?" Bartram asked.

"Yes."

"A woman may lie about many things, but her body will betray her words." Bartram concluded. "Sundri's body is ready and eager for you. Other women may pretend this is so, only because they seek to manipulate you into doing their bidding. Be aware of all these things, Orin."

The young man nodded back.

"Good." The archer chuckled. "This is what I want you to do next. Lift Sundri's legs up against your waist and cockle her. I'll keep her aloft for you."

"What?" Orin asked. "You mean here in the water? And with you watching?"

"She wants the two of us to cockle her." Bartram said. "That was our bargain with her, was it not?"

Sundri was heard to purr. "The two of you at once? I've never slept with two men at once!"

"Well, here is your chance then." Bartram told her.

Orin could wait no longer, for his cock twitched eagerly for him to nestle it. Feeling quite emboldened, he did reach down to grasp at Sundri's thighs. As he raised them toward his waist, he saw Bartram lean back and share the woman's weight with him. He stepped in closer, taking in both the wetness and the warmth of Sundri, yet knowing he was coming closer to Bartram as well, for their faces and eyes were nearly at an even level, and their bodies were less than a meter apart.

It did not matter, he decided, for his want for Sundri's flesh was more compelling. He took in their odd positioning for a moment, seeing how the witch's arms were still held behind her back, and she was nearly horizontal by then in any case. How was he to keep his hold on her and put his cock into her at the same time?