the Leathermines

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The group was outside in the dim daylight, sitting on Lady Hellon’s Hill with a small fire going in one of the firepits from summer.  It was a small group, only about ten of the one hundred and five in the household.  It was sometimes a heated discussion, sometimes tears were shared.  Laun was mentally and physically tired, but she persevered to last through, to not walk away.

Geralk had been cleaned up and forcefully put into the tub that morning.  Orgia oversaw that he was cleaned and comforted and clothed before he was allowed to leave on his own.

Kelli had been a surprise to Edgar, waking with the young woman in his arms instead of Laun.  He had been dreaming of pleasant activities and tried to calm certain portions of himself when he realized the skin and breast he was stroking was not his Lady Love’s.  Kelli was awake and put his hand back on her breast when he had pulled away.  Laun woke and watched the tears flow, but the physical feelings created by the man behind her pushing them out and out of the way.

First meal was somber.  Many people were still up from the night before, coming in to eat and participate in the morning meeting before heading off to sleep.  Laun did not really say anything to anyone before she stood and turned, the usual signal for quiet and attention.  She looked at the faces, counted, knew some people were on patrol outside, some stuck in the kitchens.  One hundred five. »Read More

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Many of the wardsman had lessons in the ways of women’s bodies over the next few days.  Laun was not the first woman in the household to start her bleed that month, but she was far from the last.

The combined protector teams found that they were hobbled by some of the requirements that the women were going through.  Many of the teams became closer, some were disbursed and others formed.  Bleed rags were washed and dried and used again to the point where many of the men just became immune to their shock and embarrassment from before.  Orgia started to worry that the amount of oil being used to help sooth the cramps of the women was going to deplete the supply before the onset of winter.  

Most of the men had very soft hands at the end of that week.

Orgia did have a point.  The traveling merchants that would stop in on a fairly set schedule had not been to the Salam-Dir keep.  Very few travelers passed by on the outmost road bordering the lands, all left to continue, never knowing that the protectors had seen them.  When a small wagon did come up the road leading to the keep, they almost turned around when they found the oak tree blocking the way.

The startled reaction of the man leading the old horse as two people came out of the underbrush almost made the horse bolt.  That is, if it hadn’t been older than most of the people living in the keep.  The woodland heather capes around the guards had blended so well that it was only after one had spoken that they could be seen.

“Good sir!” the merchant gasped.  “I am glad to know there are people here, but!”

»Read More

Back to Chapter 21  -   Perhaps a less destructive way of venting would have helped Laun, plus the use of a Safe Word.  Need to know what a Safe Word is?  Check out the FAQ for this and more info.

This time, it was easy to find her.  It wasn’t a chance spotting of a bent blade of grass.  She was not silently contemplating her inner voices.  There weren’t any calm looks over the landscape.  

The path she left was wide and obvious.  The destruction caused by the staff-sized sapling she caught off the ground on her run would scar the land and trees for a while.  She screamed, the guttural sound sending some of the woodland creatures to ground.  The sound of the sapling when it shattered on another tree could be heard for leagues through the woods.  When the guards finally caught up with her, she was on her knees, beating the last of the sapling against a boulder, the splinters spreading far around her.

She threw the stub away and looked like she was going to start pounding on the granite rock with her own hands.  The wardsman dove between his Lady and the boulder and came away with a cracked rib for his effort.  Her strike was strong.

In her rage, Laun grabbed the tunic of the wardsman and was about to toss him to the side.  He gasped in pain and she realized what she was doing.  She released him, her hands throbbing from having beat her anger out with the sapling.  The pain in the pit of her stomach was still there and it turned into a cramping that mirrored the throbs of her hands. »Read More

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Several hours, but less than two miles away from Lord Falmir’s lands, Laun stirred when the wagon went over a stone in the road.  Her head hurt more than any hangover she had ever had, all two of them, and when she tried to breathe deeply a shooting pain flashed across her chest.  She could feel the now familiar stitches in her wounds, including the new one between her breasts, as she moved in the creaking wagon.

“She’s waking up.”  Orgia had a tired edge to her voice.  It matched the ragged look on the chatelaine’s face when Laun opened her eyes.

Pillar was walking along side the wagon and looked over the edge into it.  Laun and Fount had been placed hastily on piles of household linens and trunks that had been hurriedly loaded when the word came from Laun by way of Geralk to pack.  Some of the cloths now had blood on them, but Orgia was more concerned for the two people in the wagon with her than the household goods, for once.

Through the light bedding the linens provided, Laun thought she could feel a pot handle pushing into her back.  She heard Fount beside her groan as the wagon was jostled again.  Laun felt it too.  She had overworked the last of her body’s reserves and had very little strength.  There was an unfamiliar grogginess that made it hard for thoughts or feelings to fully form.  Orgia held Laun’s head so that a tankard of cider could be drunk.  Laun had not thought that the action of swallowing would be difficult, but her tongue felt as though it was a stone in her mouth.  More leaked out the sides of her mouth than went down her throat.  She coughed and was helped into a better sitting position.

Pain and fatigue were both dominating her body, but Laun needed to ask one thing, “Did everyone get out?”

Orgia had a halting progression of emotions go across her face.  Hurt, pride, concern and sadness mixed in disconcerting ways until she was stuck on concern.  “Most, my Lady.  Thank the gods that Geralk came with the dancers.  If he had not warned us, we would have been caught unawares when Falmir’s men,” she spat out the King’s son’s name, “came to take us over.  Some Rosemond noble was in the lead saying that HE was the rightful heir to your lands.”  Orgia had another unreadable emotion go over her tired features.  “He had a writ signed by Falmir.  It said King Falmir Hawkwell, not Dreng Hawkwell.”

Pillar nodded at Laun when her eyes passed from Orgia to the shaman.  “I have heard that from several households as we have been traveling.  None of the households that I have seen on the road accepted the writs at face value.”  His head bobbed along as he walked, making Laun’s eyes close.

“I-”  Laun’s mouth was hard to control and felt as though fermenting honey had been spooned in.  She tried to swallow to clear her mouth and it was not working.  She tried again without any success.  She let her fuzzy mind close as her eyes had closed and sank back down into drugged sleep.

Chapter 11   The first night after the coup is frightening, but the household survives