Kindred Spirit Lodge Presents
Lessons in Courtly Love
Part 1 of 2
by Oisin & Lady Elsbeth
Added; Oct. 2007
Oisin was puffed up and proud. The Lady Elsbeth had to travel west over Bent Back Mountain on a personal errand and the Captain had especially requested Oisin to escort her. Escorting a Lady of Elsbeth’s repute was no short measure, and Oisin felt sure it was because she was looking incredibly butchly in her new breeches of chinchilla leather. Things like that caught the Captain's eye.
The sales assistant with the beautiful breasts from her favourite pantaloon shoppe ‘Hot Crotch Buns’ had said to her….what had she said to her? Oisin had been too busy ogling to listen which was probably why she’d ended up with a pair of chinchilla pants when she’d only gone in for a button.
It had been a wonderful day for beautiful breasts, Oisin’s quick dash into town had eventually lasted fourteen hours and she had returned with a dozen German sausage, one Bunsen burner, two paper shredders and a lactose intolerance kit. Plus a 10 x 7 metre tapestry of the Inauguration of Pope Gregory XXI purchased from a particularly buxom lass from the Guild of Papists and Surplus Threads. In fact Oisin knew if she had been allowed to cop a feel before the young wench’s supervisor appeared, Aria would even now be the proud owner of the 42 x104 metre tapestry of The Flagellation of St Wilma as an early yuletide gift from the ever generous Bard.
And so, much poorer and none the wiser Oisin was happy to accept the invitation to guide the fair Lady Elsbeth over the dangerous and inclement mountain peaks, home to cougars, bandits, bears and trolls. Well maybe not trolls, but Oisin being a warrior of seasoned and mighty reputation knew the advantage of being well prepared and had a plan to cover all eventualities. She would simply persuade Lady Elsbeth to go around the mountain rather than over it. Okay so it might add thirteen months to the journey rather than the five days it took to scale the heaving home of flesh eating, soul sucking hell incarnate beasts of Beelzebub, there and back again. But as her most butchly of escorts ever Oisin was sure the good Lady would listen to her wise and wondrous counsel.
Lady Elsbeth was packing for her journey to a town over the Bent Back Mountain. Since the trip would only take 5 days or so to get there she didn’t worry about taking the huge amount of clothing she normally would take when traveling.
She had heard that dangerous and evil animals inhabited the mountain, so she was quite happy that the Captain was going to assign a warrior to accompany her. She knew her safety would be assured under the guardianship of a strong and capable warrior.
Then, she discovered that the warrior chosen was Oisin. “Ye gods, I’ll never be safe” she grumbled, “What was the Captain thinking? Oisin; of all the warriors at the Lodge she was probably the most inept.” Now, she was throwing her garments into her traveling bag. “Better pack my daggers,” she grumbled on, “Not just the 2 I normally carry, but also my leather case of 24 silver ones as well. I shall wrap them around my body for easy access. I’ll probably have to protect myself as well as Oisin.”
She grumbled on, packing her bunny fur thongs for the warmth which was only surpassed by the heat of passion. Oh, and her hot pink diamond studded thong, which she had made herself, lovingly attaching each gem with needle and thread. One never knew what the future might hold when she reached town.
Suddenly she was startled by three loud knocks on her door. She gave herself a little shake to brush off the anger she was feeling, and putting on her most gracious smile, she answered the door.
The fair Lady Elsbeth had Oisin by the ear.
“No.” she stated crisply and clearly, “We go over it.”
“But the trolls?” Oisin managed to squeak as the twisting tightened one last time before her lobe was released with a snap. She rubbed her sore ear, bottom lip extruding slightly. Didn’t the Lady know you weren’t supposed to beat up your butchly escort before you even got going? So much for dainty and delicate!
“I am most certain there are no trolls.” Elsbeth explained patiently for the third time, “Now go and get the horses please Oisin.” She watched as her erstwhile escort grumbled off towards the stables nursing her flaming ear. ‘Why were the cute ones always so dumb?’ the Lady sighed to herself.
A little later and well along the track Oisin had tired of leading the way, the view was boring, just majestic mountains, mighty rivers, lush forests and abundant wildlife. She wanted to ride behind lady Elsbeth and watch her luscious bottom sway to and fro, to and fro on that lucky bay gelding. “Wish she’d rock on me like that.” Oisin smirked under her breath. But how? But How? The Bards crafty and manipulative mind sprang into action…I know I’ll seduce her with song! Never fails!
She hung back on Porky until the Elsbeth drew alongside then gave her the mellow minstrel eye with a crooked grin that was her guaranteed patented wench creamer.
“Is she going to throw up?” Elsbeth looked with caution at the rather strange countenance on Oisin’s face. Uncertain whether to move forwards, shuffle sideways or fall back any possibility of decisive action froze as Oisin burst into song…
“Oisin the Mighty
Wears breeches tightly
Ladies are slightly
By verse sixteen Lady Elsbeth’s head was reeling. Her mount wasn’t faring any better. Porky had cornered him in a very tedious one-sided post modernist debate on the classical origins of courtly love…
“…which as we all know fails to relay the socio-political changes going on in Italy at the time. It’s all very well saying Dante’s humble and reverent love for Beatrice triggered the notion of an Eternal Feminine but…”
“ …welds her sword rightly
But careful cos it’s sharpy
Don’t nick yourselfffffff….’
“…taking into account that romance and enlightenment seem exclusive to one another let us not forget the philosophical consequences of…”
“Oisin the Mightys
Teeth are so whitey
“Oh look...there’s a troll!” Lady Elsbeth blurted…
“Fucking brilliant!” thought the bay happily astounded, “Why didn’t I think of that!”
“Huh? Troll?” Oisin and Porky thought in unison, but Oisin actually said it. She blanched, “Dammit, she KNEW there’d be trolls but did anybody listen to her...oh no…not unless she was singing, then everyone was all ears…”
Drawing her sword she spurred Porky in the general direction Lady Elsbeth had vaguely waved a finger and rushed off to wage war.
Slumping with relief both Elsbeth and her mount toddled off toward a bubbling brook for much needed aural recovery. “I know it’s a sin to lie,” the fair Lady whispered to her steed, “But it’s a far greater sin to kick someone off their horse and down a crevasse.”
“Who said you had to kick’em off the horse??” came the silent response.
Lady Elsbeth was sitting on a rock splashing her bare feet in the swirling waters of the brook by the time Oisin staggered back from her fool’s errand.
O had time to glimpse a gorgeous flash of creamy calf before Elsbeth arose in concern.
“What on earth happened to you?” she eyes quickly assessed the ripped, torn, bloody and well-mussed warrior. She felt a sudden rush of guilt, ‘Don’t tell me there were trolls after all!’
“I fell into a thorn bush.” Oisin blurted miserably not even bothering to lie to hide her embarrassment. “Porky startled at a rabbit.” She cast a hard accusing stare as she slid off her mount.
‘Hey…it was a Big rabbit!’ Porky glared right back, ‘I thought it was a Troll-Rabbit!!’
“Well the shirt’s practically beyond recovery. We can rip it for bandages…I’m sure we’ll need them later.” Lady E sighed.
“My new breeches…” Oisin offered with a catch in her voice, “...they’re ruined.”
“No, I think I can repair those. Go light a fire and I’ll get my sewing kit. This is as good a place as any to camp for the night.” Suddenly the Lady became a bustling blur of activity, “Oh, and Oisin, go check a snare I set just inside the tree line near a burrow. With a bit of luck we’ll have supper waiting for us.”
‘Wow,’ thought Oisin, ‘she’s a little bit more than eye candy!’ but she did as she was bid. ‘But no less sweet.’
As the light faded a warming fire flickered with a ferocious ‘troll rabbit’ roasting over it. The horses were relaxed and fed and the day was ending contentedly for all…until…
“Right, kit off.” Lady Elsbeth approached the fire with a leather roll of various threads and needles.
The Lady nodded in the direction of Oisin’s torn breeches. “Strip. I can’t very well sew them while you’re in them.”
“Umm, umm.” Oisin stalled, “I don’t have another pair…and I don’t have another shirt…please don’t rip this one for rags… I don’t have a lot of clothes, I’m meant to be Wandering remember? I travel light.” she tailed off embarrassed.
Elsbeth sighed; it seemed that was all she had been doing since this journey began. “I’ll repair whatever I can. I have a rabbit fur thong somewhere I’ll need…”
“Ooooh yeah!” Oisin liked the idea of Lady E joining her in her nakedness only wearing one of her famous rabbit fur thongs, “Oouch!” she squealed as a needle stabbed her upper arm.
“It’s to patch the holes in your breeches. Now strip before I lose patience with you!”
‘How can someone who looks like a glorious princess with tumbling auburn tresses and flawless creamy skin be such a virago?’ Oisin grumbled to herself rubbing the sore spot on her bicep.
Glumly, O stood and peeled off her outer attire. Not that there was any inner attire to conserve either her or the Lady’s blushes. Looking anywhere but at Lady Elsbeth she handed over the bundle of rags and quickly sat down by the fire, knees drawn up and wrapped by her arms in uncharacteristic modesty. Glaring into the fire she didn’t see the laughter in the Lady’s eyes.
As Lady Elsbeth sat sewing on the poor bard’s ripped and torn clothing, she couldn’t help but to steal little glances and the naked little warrior. She looked so pitiful all naked and blushing, and about to cry… although she would strongly deny this if asked. The Lady found herself feeling empathy for Oisin. And also a spark of what she thought was impossible… a little bit of attraction. Oisin’s naked body wasn’t bad at all.
Oisin’s fine chinchilla pantaloons were hanging together by threads; thank goodness the fur was virtually unharmed. Although Elsbeth was at a loss to understand why Oisin had bought chinchilla, she had to admit the things actually fit very well on her.
Of course the Lady would never admit to Oisin that she was feeling any attraction to her. Right now she was very happy with the situation as it was. Oisin was at her beck and call. No need to change that! Elsbeth spoke, and Oisin was right there, ready to serve in any way. What ever the Lady asked for, she got.
Oisin watched the silver needle flash in the moonlight out of the corner of her eye, her gaze concentrating on the nimble fingers stitching together her leathers. Everything about this Lady was dainty and demure and so, so tantalizingly soft…except it feckin’ well wasn’t…she was a harpy when she got going.
Oisin didn’t know what to do. Here she was sitting nekkid with a beautiful Lady, normally she would be displaying like a peacock. She was proud of her body, she worked hard making it a truly tantalizing love toy for lucky wenches…yet here she was curled up like a pink shrimp, cooking in the glow of the fire and totally unsure of herself. Where had her mojo gone?
Night drew in and the fire grew low. Once again tucked into her repaired clothes O marveled at the skill Elsbeth had shown, she truly was a remarkable Lady. ‘I wonder what other talents are hidden under all that velvet and lace?’ Oisin thought lewdly, cocky again now that her own recently unhidden talents were once again under wraps. And so when they laid their bedrolls out the Bard took a chance and shuffled hers closer with the toe of her boot.
“That troll is still out there.” She gave by way of innocent explanation seeing the suspicious look in Lady E’s eyes. “Can’t have him wandering into our camp looking for a midnight snack, now can we?”
Elsbeth sighed realizing she had been trapped by her own lie. Ignoring the Bard she settled under her blankets, curled up against the chill and waited for sleep to come.
Much later the distant howling of wolves disturbed the horses. Rising to placate them Oisin returned to her bed and noticed Elsbeth shivering slightly in her sleep. It was indeed an unseasonably cold night so she banked up the fire and moved her bedding to right behind the sleeping Lady in order to snuggle up and generate a little more warmth.
“Mmmm, nice.” She murmured into the silky tresses that spun over the Lady’s sweetly scented neck. Oisin buried her nose deeper into the curls and sighed. Her arm curved around the slender body spooned into hers. She felt involuntary stiffening that alerted her that the Lady was awake but lying silently, waiting…
Oisin smiled quietly; finally they were on a footing she understood. Gently, through the auburn tresses she allowed her lips to warmly rest against the cool soft flesh of Lady Elsbeth’s neck. Her hand that had curved around the Lady’s belly started to rub in a slow circular motion. She opened her mouth slightly and began a soft suckling on the smooth skin of Elsbeth’s nape, slow and sensuous, taking her time, savoring the sweet taste.
Never ceasing the sinuous movement she slowly inched her hand higher from soft belly to ribs, pressing and gently kneading as she went, manipulating the pliant flesh where it lay under velvet. Her private smile deepened even as her tongue flickered moist kisses across to the side of the throat. She could sense the catch in the Lady’s breathing and felt her own need rising and pulsing heat into the beautiful rounded bottom cupped in her lap. Of their own accord her hips began a careful undulation against the soft swell of Lady Elsbeth’s ass. At last her hand reached the gentle under curve of a full breast. Oisin’s breath caught in her throat.
Carefully weighing the succulent fullness she slid her fingers up to cradle the softness until the nipple, like a little pebble, hardened in the heart of her palm… “Aaaaaah!” her index finger was pulled back so sharply she thought it would break off. Bloody hell it was her sword hand, didn’t this woman know if she had no sword hand they might as well build up the fire, get nekkid and shout ‘Barbeque’ to the waiting trolls!!
“Just what do you think you’re doing!” demanded Lady Elsbeth, a little belatedly Oisin thought as she nursed her castigated digit.
“I was just keeping you warm.” She replied truculently.
“I wasn’t ‘that’ cold.” responded a heated Lady E.
“Tell that to yer nipples.” huffed Oisin as she dragged her bedding away.
This Lady was just impossible! It was going to be a very, very long trip, even going over the feckin mountain!
Oisin sat until early morning trying to splint her finger, not that it needed it, more to see what it would look like and if it would gain her any sympathy from her traveling companion. She tried to think over her last instructions from the Captain, had she misunderstood anything, was there a subtle subtext here? Could the words “…and you’re to get Her there and back safely...” be construed in any possible way as ‘…and you’re to get Her lost halfway up that mountain and leave Her there for the grizzlies to suffer…’?
“How is your finger?” Lady E was up and about bright and breezy, starting to cook eggs for breakfast.
“Nuttin, just thinking about tortured bears…”
“Really? How strange. Why have you a twig tied to the back of your hand? Is it a charm?”
“Well if it is it ain’t friggin’ working...” muttered Oisin as she threw the embarrassing bit of wood away and started to ready the horses. If the Lady wasn’t interested in her, then she was not going to be in the slightest bit interested in the Lady, so there!
The afternoon turned out to be blistering hot after the cold night and when they found a sheltered little pool it seemed reasonable enough to take a short break to cool down in the azure waters.
Oisin was overheating in the chinchilla leathers and had no sooner unsaddled Porky and her companion and let them toddle off to graze than she was stripped and ran splashing and laughing into the pool. All her earlier self consciousness was gone, the Lady was not interested in her overtures so now Oisin felt free to simply lark about and not put any effort into impressing Elsbeth with her stud muffin posturing. She was simply going to be herself and for all she cared Elsbeth could go and…..get….get nekkid…
O had turned towards the shore in time to see Lady E demurely strip down to her chemise behind a bush… “Ooooh,” groaned the Bard, this not being in the slightest bit interested was going to be harder than she thought.
All afternoon O swam and splashed and generally showed off while Elsbeth paddled and laughed at the Bards antics, between catching a very commendable trout for their supper. Oisin had tried to tickle some fish but had only succeeded in scaring away everything for miles.
Eventually hunger drew them from the water and Elsbeth began to prepare supper. “Go and collect some firewood Oisin, this little bundle will burn up in no time.”
Pulling her shirt over her nakedness Oisin started up the slope to the tree-line to gather kindling. She had just reached the crest, eyes scouring the ground for deadwood when her gaze came across two humongous hairy feet, caked with dirt, goat poo and fungi, toenails cracked and yellowing and definitely smelling of cheese...long dead cheese. Slowly her gaze swung upwards as she held her breath through fear of what was before her and fear of breathing in what was before her. Up, up, up, past the loin cloth of un-gutted goatskin that might explain the goat poo engrained into the feet. Up past the rotund greasy belly, concaved thick furred chest and finally into the cruel and piggy little eyes of…a troll…a big, feck off, mcfecker of a troll.
Oisin’s knew grew weak, she blanched and felt sick to her stomach. Then she saw the piggy eyes drift over her shoulder and down to the shoreline where Lady Elsbeth sat combing out her damp tendrils of fine-spun auburn hair, gently humming a sweet and delightful melody, and smelling distinctly of fish…mountain trolls favourite delicacy, after goat and hopefully not Bard.
“NOOOOOO!” Oisin bellowed as she tackled the beast around his knees. She had no sword, no dagger, no pants so she did what she could, she grabbed the bastard by the knees in hope he would topple and flounder and Elsbeth and herself could run like the wind, over the hills and far, far away and never ever stop until they were home safe and warm…in bed together…this was Oisin’s cunning battle plan…until the troll fell on her.
Screaming with pain, alarm, more pain, and just because it might be the last sound she ever made on this earth Oisin and the troll rolled down the slope gathering momentum at each twisting roll as they struggled to dismember each other on their descent.
Lady Elsbeth looked up in horror as the rumbling tumbling noisy mass of hairy stench, enormous feet and occasionally a cute little bare ass (Oisin’s) headed straight towards her.
Lady Elsbeth had enjoyed the afternoon. She was delighted that Oisin had stopped posturing and started showing her natural cute self. Hoping it would last Elsbeth saw huge potential for her to become a great warrior.
She was combing her hair when she heard this terrible roar. Looking towards the direction of the roaring thunder and sounds of screaming, she saw a huge ball of what looked like dirty meat mixed with Oisin speeding toward her. With no time to think, she called upon the ancient magic that had been handed down through her family and moved, faster than the speed of light, picking up her sword, daggers and bow, etc., and was as close to the meat/Oisin roll as she get herself, without fainting from the fumes.
Silver dagger in hand she started stabbing the meat roll in places that were not Oisin. She heard non-human yelps of fury, and little squeaks that sounded like, “Help me! Help me!” coming from the roll. Immediately she had a troll-poison tipped dagger in the other hand and was stabbing furiously, thankful that she was ambidextrous.
A furious roar arose from the meat roll. And then… except for the little squeaks, nothing. The roll began to shrivel, and Oisin parts began to appear. Elsbeth gave a little cry and pulled Oisin as hard as she could from the shriveled, stinking piece of meat.
“Oh Oisin,” she cried, “Look at you, all cut and bruised. That troll would have eaten us both! If it weren’t for your troll inflicted torturous screams I never would have turned to see it, and we’d both be dead.” Elsbeth, ever the Lady, always tried to make others feel good about how well they had performed no matter what the truth might be.
Now she needed to see to Oisin’s wounds. Poor thing was filthy. Elsbeth half carried, half dragged Oisin down to the water and sat her down in it. Oisin, half conscious, was moaning painfully. Elsbeth gently washed her. Starting with her face, she took a clean cloth and very mild soap, and wiped in little circles on Oisin’s sweet face.
Oisin’s sweet face sniffed sadly for itself, it had been to hell and back attached as it was to this sweet body which had in turn been attached to a big heap of smelly murderous troll. At this moment she was feeling distinctly more Warrior than Bard, exhausted, bloody and war torn she lay back into Lady Elsbeth’s arms.
“Did you see the way I screamed at him? Did you see the way he fell over on me? That was all planned….” Sighing O shut up, she was too exhausted to mutate this latest fiasco into a tale of epic bravado…that would have to wait until later when she was in a bar somewhere needing free drinks. Today she felt crushed…on so many levels.
Sniffing again she held up a bruised and bloody paw...hand, a bruised and bloodied hand for the soft administrations of the wash cloth.
“I hurt my hand…”
Elsbeth clucked over it, rinsing the dirt away with cool water, “There we are, I’ll put some salve on it in a moment.”
“And my shoulders and back are all cut…” the tattered shirt confirmed this.
“Tsk, you were so brave wrestling that big...yeti like that.” More tender administrations.
O was beginning to get the hang of this. She liked it! How could she advance this situation to get even more loving healing? What would a courtly and studly butch do? What would Rider do? Ah ha!
“And I got some scratches on my ass…how about a butt rub?” Splash!
Oisin was blowing bubbles underwater before she knew it, pinned there by the easily underestimated strength of Lady E. Before the shock even had time to register she was dragged up again, and gasping for air had no choice but to listen to the angry tirade Lady Elsbeth rained down upon her.
“Why is it every time you are even half way to becoming a decent, semi-lucid human being you have to go and ruin it all by behaving like a moronic jackassed half-wit?” her tongue drawing more blood that a troll ever could. “I have no idea what horny weasels passed as ladies where you come from but out here and back at the Lodge you will pay my Sisters and I only the greatest respect or else we shall cheerfully disembowel you with your own splintered femur. Do you understand me?” she fumed.
Oisin had been crawling backwards away from the Were-Lady who had just this second turned into a ravening beast under no provocation whatsoever… maybe this was why the Captain wanted her abandoned up a mountain! She drew level with the sizzling troll corpse half dissolved with the Lady’s poisonous acids…she knew how he felt.
Each backward creep dragged her sorry ass across the rough terrain, mangling her already well mauled buttocks. Elsbeth bore down at a rapid pace until she stood astride her escaping rat. Trapped Oisin winced in great pain between her burning bum and the Lady’s scathing words.
Elsbeth noticed the genuine wince. “Roll over!” she commanded. Oisin lay still, very uncertain of the Lady’s temperament and whether she wanted to expose her already raw ass to a possible hiding. Elsbeth was having none of it, tipping a toe under the Bards hip she flipped her over unceremoniously onto her belly. Dispassionately she examined the multiple cuts, welts, sharp stones and splinters embedded in the backside below her. But her skilful eye also picked up something else through all the inflammation…infection…the troll had infected the Bard probably through its diseased teeth, nails and spittle. She had to treat Oisin now before a raging fever started then they really would be in trouble up here in the wilds.
Leaving her patient lying belly down, already beginning to fluster and overheat Elsbeth reached for the bags with her potions.
“What’s she up too?” wondered Oisin feeling hot and dizzy. “You’d need to be a traipse artist to get a handle on her mood swings….eeeeek!”
Elsbeth was back, squatting down on the Bards thighs swathing her backside with a cloth dowsed in an acidic brew. Oisin bucked and yelled but the Lady held her there until she had thoroughly drenched the offending area with her potion and drew out a good few sizeable wooden splinters and sharp stones with her dagger point.
“Don’t mark me, don’t mark me!” Oisin begged, “The wenches at The Squeaky Duck would never forgive you!” For all she knew the good Lady could be carving her initials into her ass cheeks…in fact it felt more like she was craving her entire Coat of Arms her ass was so alive with flame!
“Sorry O, but hopefully the same poison that killed the troll will kill the gangrenous pus it’s injected into your posterior.”
It was too much pain for the Bard to bare, she began to swim woozily towards unconsciousness. The last words she heard were, “Seems you got your butt rub after all…”
Conclusion in Part 2 - 'Lessons in Courtly Love' - by Oisin & Lady Elsbeth
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