Orin The Great Ch. 06

"I am not a dense brick!" Miriam frowned.

"Oh, yes, you are. Come with me, dear. At least you are good for stirring a pot."

Miriam and her sour countenance followed the sorceress out of the tent.

"They are not getting along well." Bartram commented.

"Perhaps Miriam is not good at following instructions." Orin guessed. "Let them sort it out. I have an idea, Bartram, on how we can spend our morning. Let me go and find a few long sticks for you to hold."

The strange antics of the two men drew the attention of many of the guards in camp. Bartram had tied two long branches to his arms with twine, and was lunging out at Orin. The youth was quick to sidestep the archer's new reach, but had trouble coming up with an effective counter with a stick he used to represent his short sword.

"What are you doing?" One of the observant knights asked.

"When we fought the ogre yesterday, it made those same lunges that Bartram is making." Orin described. "The ogre did not make a step forward, but it leaned ahead to take its swipes. It was an odd movement, and contrary to how men fight."

"How so?"

"Well, let me think." Orin answered.

He mimicked how a man might start an attack, by shifting forward with his feet, keeping his balance, and slashing out with his sword. The youth had Bartram strike at him again, while he dodged the long 'arms' by jumping to either side.

"There is something I am missing, but I don't know what." Orin calculated.

"You've faced your first ogre only yesterday," The knight laughed. "And you think you have come up with a new strategy already? Are you a better fighter than the lot of us that have been fighting wild beasts for many years?"

Several spectators laughed at him, before they drifted off toward their tents.

"Bartram, I have a fresh perspective in this, don't I?" A hurt Orin asked. "I proved that at the Dunnidale!"

"Don't you worry, Orin." The archer told him. "From experience, I know that people can be unwilling to try a new venture, if they have convinced their selves that they know all about it ahead of time."

"Still..." Orin grumbled.

A short while later, Sundri and Miriam returned with their breakfast. They brought a bowl of meat fried in its juices, old trencher bread, and half a pitcher of watery ale. The four of them sat down to eat before the Labacum tent, while the last knight on duty went to the cook station for his breakfast.

"Will someone help me untie these branches from my arms?" Bartram asked.

"No, leave them on for a while longer." Orin thoughtfully replied. "I still want to practice with you as the ogre."

"How am I going to eat, then?"

"Come here, you big baby." Sundri told the archer. She held out a morsel for him. "I'll feed you, in exchange for some of your manly attention later."

"And you'll have it!" Bartram exclaimed, gobbling up the meat. "Oh, that was good! Give me another bite!"

While the rest joked and laughed, Orin went over the previous day's battle in his head. After they'd eaten half of their food, the youth had an idea. "Miriam, will you help me? Stand in front of Bartram and pretend you are a knight fighting against an ogre."

"Those are ferocious monsters." The girl admitted. "One of the men from Grauxall showed us their trophies. They have three ogre heads!"

"Yes, I know." Orin acknowledged. "They were boasting of it last night."

Eagerly, Miriam stood before Bartram. When the archer lunged with his long arms, she jumped first to one side, and then to the other. The girl started giggling as if it were a child's game.

"Don't be too happy about it." Bartram told her. "A single blow from an ogre was enough to kill a good horse."

"Show her, Bartram." Orin instructed. "Show Miriam how the ogre swung to one side, so she can understand that it wasn't that easy to avoid its arms." The youth watched the archer twist from the waist, nipping Miriam's shoulder before she could avoid it. "No, Bartram, not like that. The ogre didn't bend from the middle. It took two steps to the side while it was swinging its arms, it..."

Orin's words halted so abruptly his friends all turned to look at him.

"What is it, Orin?" Sundri asked.

"Repeat that movement, Bartram, one more time." Orin suggested. "But swing at a slower pace."

"I'll do it, but I will miss Miriam entirely if I slow down."

With focused eyes, Orin tracked the movements of both Bartram and Miriam. This time, the archer took the correct motion instead of swiveling from the waist.

"That is it!" Orin cried out, glancing around to make sure only his friends were listening. "I have figured out a secret over how ogres fight!"

"What secret?" Sundri wondered.

"For a short duration, we saw the knights in the fray against three ogres." Orin recalled. "And then I had one ogre standing directly before me. They always took steps to their front or to their sides. They never twisted from the waist!"

"Perhaps you didn't see them twist." Bartram speculated.

"No, no, I thought there was something odd about their movements, but I did not figure it out until now. When you fell over, Bartram, the ogre didn't turn; it took a few steps to its side to have you in its sights again. When I shouted at it, it took more steps to face me. That is their secret! The ogres cannot bend from the waist like humans can!"

"They are tall creatures, and there were many trees around." The archer reminded him. "Besides, what good is it to know they always have to take steps to move?"

"I don't know; not yet." Orin admitted. "But if I am right about it, that means I have discovered a handicap of the ogres. Now I must come up with a tactic so that I can take advantage of it."

Near to noon, four battered men from Praylum returned to the camp. One man had suffered a broken arm and carried a makeshift splint. His fellows set about preparing a new, better splint, while Sundri and Miriam went to prepare an herbal remedy that would help dull the injured man's pain, and also calm his companions.

Orin was ready to test out his new theory regarding an ogre's flexibility, but alas, the five knights from Labacum did not return until late in the evening.

There was some good news. The Labacum men brought with them the head of the ogre that had been maimed the day before. This good news didn't last very long, as the knights gave no credit at all for Orin and Bartram's participation in the previous battle. Thanks to those two, a Labacum man had the chance to pierce that ogre in the neck, which was the wound that maimed the creature in the first place. This blatant disregard angered Orin enough that he went to brood that night, at a far corner of the campfire. Bartram went to join him a short while later.

"Why are you upset, Orin?" Bartram asked. "Is it because you think we deserve a bit of the reward money?"

"No, it isn't that." The youth denied. "We risked our lives, Bartram. If it were not for you and I, they would have never maimed that ogre. If they had not maimed it, they would not have followed its blood trail today and killed it. A simple Thank You would have been enough."

"Men tend to forget their courtesy when they have a chance to grab gold."

"I suppose."

Sundri and Miriam had been helping with the cooking again, and with skinning another horse that had been killed in a fight. This time, an ogre had shoved the animal down into a ravine, where it was dashed against the rocks.

"Here is your fresh horse meat." Miriam handed the men a full bowl to share. "If you want more, there is plenty of it still to be had."

"Thank you, dear." Bartram said.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" The girl asked. "The Grauxall men have been flirting with me ever since they returned from the hunt. They are all ugly, smelly men."

"Here, sit between Orin and myself." Bartram said. "That should keep them away."

"Where is Sundri?" Orin inquired.

"With the knights from Castra Devana. Lady Olarya was asking about you again."

"Was she now?" Orin chuckled. "What do you think about her, Bartram? Do you think she is pretty?"

The archer grinned. "At a guess, she is twice your age, young man. However, she is pretty, and even better, she is rich!"

"Is that how you men think about women?" Miriam lambasted them both. "About how big a woman's breasts are, and how rich she is?"

"How big are your breasts, Miriam?" Orin kidded.

"Stop it, Orin." The girl answered. "You always look at my chest and not my face!"

"That is because he knows it bothers you." Bartram made clear. "I am interested in your opinion, Miriam. What do you think about Lady Olarya?"

"I think Orin should find a woman that is closer to his age." She replied.

Because Orin wasn't a complete dunce, he caught that Miriam had avoided giving an answer. Bartram and Sundri had both cautioned him now how women might change the topic over to what was really on their minds.

"So I should not cockle the lady?" Orin teased. "What about Sundri? Should I stop cockling her as well?"

"Sundri is old enough to be your grandmother!"

"Hold on..." Orin calculated. "I am over eighteen years now, and Sundri is, what, fifty and four I think. That means... Bartram, is she old enough to be my grandmother?"

"Remind me never to trust you to count my coin." The archer joked. "But yes, she is old enough, and also old enough to be my mother."

An impish smiled swept over the youth's visage. "What say we chase her into the woods tonight and give her a good thrashing?"

"Orin, you stop that!" Miriam scolded him. "Find a girl your age!"

"A girl my age will only want to put a yoke around my neck and keep me at her side forever." Orin countered. "I am sorry, but I am not ready for any marriage!"

"Nobody said anything about getting married! I am only saying that there are plenty of girls that are your age you can take an interest in. You don't have to chase old hags that can barely walk because they are so old!"

"Need I remind you, Miriam, that Sundri has more endurance for walking than you do."

Miriam stood up, looking ready to kick Orin in the head.

"Are we having a quarrel?" Sundri called out, making her approach with another full bowl of horsemeat. "Do sit down, Miriam. I have some news to tell."

Glowering at Orin, Miriam obeyed. "If those ugly men from Grauxall weren't hounding me so, I would have gone elsewhere."

"Stay here, Miriam." Bartram said. "Orin, Sundri and I know you are heavy-handed with your jokes, but Miriam isn't used to hearing them."

"I won't apologize to her." The youth refused. "She has said some things I didn't like hearing, and I don't hear Miriam apologizing to me. As a matter of fact, I think Miriam should say she is sorry to Sundri, for what she just said a moment ago."

"Miriam said something disparaging about me?" The sorceress asked, but just as quickly dismissed the matter. "This girl has been frustrated because the magic I am trying to teach her is well out of her usual training. I keep telling her it will take time, and also to pay close attention to my words. But let us move on from this. The knights from Labacum no longer want us in their tents. They said they won't share any reward with any of us."

"Why not?" Orin protested. "We only guarded their stupid tents all day today!"

"Let me finish." Sundri replied. "Lady Olarya said she would be glad to have us. Half of her knights are bruised up at present. We won't be guarding any tents, either. We will be riding horses and hunting with their party tomorrow."

"How marvelous!" Orin screamed in delight. "Thank you, Sundri! Thank you so much for that!"

"Calm down, Orin." Bartram grinned. "Everyone around the fire is looking at us."

"Let them look!" Orin replied. "The men from Labacum can kiss my arse!"

"Speaking of kissing arse," Bartram hinted. "You did mention giving Sundri a good thrashing, didn't you?"

"You mean that old hag that can barely walk?" Orin returned, giving Miriam a sharp look. "Yes, I think I will give Sundri a good thrashing, even if she is old enough to be my grandmother!" He jumped to his feet and snatched at the older woman's wrist. "You are coming with me, Sundri! Prepare to be cockled!"

The mature sorceress barely began blushing, when Orin hauled her away. Over her shoulder, she called out, "Thank you for that, Bartram!"

In a flash, the two were gone through the tents and out of sight.

"That was an evil thing to do to me." Miriam grumbled at the archer.

"No, I don't think it was. I know that you like Orin, but I have to remind you that he is his own man. Orin can make his own decisions and decide all by himself who he wants to bed with."

"As long as it isn't me?" Miriam snapped.

"Dear, I am trying to help you."

"To help me? By sending him off with that old witch?"

"Yes, to help you." Bartram reiterated. "Do you even remember how you first caught Orin's eye back at that meager village of yours? You attracted Orin because you were different than the other girls. Look at you now. Whenever you are near Orin, you start nagging him as if you've been married forever and a day."

"I do not!"

Bartram merely crossed his arms and stayed quiet.

The pause in conversation allowed Miriam to take stock on her actions. After a few long moments, she sighed and relented. "I do like Orin."

"Why?"

"Because he isn't like other young men that I know. He doesn't chase after the girls. He makes the girls chase after him, but he never stops running long enough for me to truly catch him."

"Perhaps Orin does not want to be caught. Perhaps you have to do what Sundri does, in that she tantalizes him so much that he always wants to see what she is up to."

"I'm not as good at magic as she is." Miriam lamented.

"You don't have to be. Instead of chasing after Orin, why don't you run at his side until he notices you? When he does notice, tease him and run off, so he will chase after you. Orin is diverse in that he wants to try a hundred different things at once. If you want Orin badly enough, you will have to become as diverse as he is."

"And as diverse as Sundri is?"

"I'll tell you the truth." Bartram scooted closer to Miriam. "We don't know anything about Sundri. That woman is so mysterious she hardly ever talks about her past, or her mysticism, and when she does, she is always woolly about it. Orin is utterly fascinated with her."

"So I will have to find a way to utterly fascinate him?"

"You will have to change your tactics, certainly." Bartram nodded. "All you are doing now is pestering him, and in turn he wants to irritate you."

"Are you my friend, Bartram?" Miriam asked.

"I am your friend, and I am Orin's friend. Unless you betray us, of course, and then I will have to tell Orin to push you out of our company. Do us all a favor and be a rose and not a thorn to us. We all like you."

"Do you?"

"We let you join us, didn't we? Sundri wants to teach you magic, because she wants to teach and you want to learn. Orin likes you enough to tease you, because he enjoys ruffling your feathers. I like you because, well, who doesn't like having a pretty girl around? You don't have a bland personality, you know. You have charm about you, and poise, but you probably don't even know this because nobody in your village bothered to point that out to you."

"I will change my tactics with Orin, as you said I should." Miriam decided. "If I go astray, you must be my friend and tell me. Do you promise?"

"Sure, I promise. If it ends up that Orin does not like you, you have to be strong enough to let him go. Oh, and you can't be jealous of the women Orin pays attention to, even if they are as old as grandmothers, because you will never own Orin. Do you promise?"

She sighed back. "Yes, Bartram. I promise."

With Sundri at his side, Orin hurried through the woods until he was far from the glow of the camp. No illumination from either the fire or lanterns could reach them, putting them both into darkness.

Sundri was heard laughing and panting at their run. "Orin, are you so eager for me tonight? Give me a moment to catch my breath!"

"Make a ball of light so that I can see you." Orin insisted.

"So the entire camp can see us?"

"No. Make a small one then. I only want to see your face."

In short time, the sorceress created a floating orb the size of a coin, and the color of toasted amber. She brought the orb up close to her face. "Miriam spoke ill of me?"

"She called you old witch and old hag." Orin testily replied. "I don't know what Miriam's trouble is, but I will not have it!"

"You've put us all into a flutter, haven't you? Miriam has grown jealous of me, and I am already jealous of her. Lady Oryala was asking about you, just a short while ago. I want to ask you something, Orin."

"Go on. I won't keep any secrets from you. Why should I?"

"What did Bartram do to you at Red Rock?"

Orin turned his face away, clearly having trouble formulating a reply.

"Did he cockle you?" Sundri pressured him.

"No, it wasn't that. We played a game. He... He played blow the candle with me."

"Bartram is a wicked man for doing that."

"No, he isn't." Orin corrected her. "He asked me first, if I wanted to try it. I was the one that said yes."

"Why, Orin?"

"Do you remember back in Dunnidale, when I spent the night in the lovers' cave? I was involved in a tryst with two people, one man and one woman. I understand that they were ghosts, but that tryst felt as real to me as anything else I've ever done."

"Of course I remember. They were Cyrus and Rohanna."

"I don't know." Orin shrugged. "When I was in that other dimension and bedding with them both, I felt the body of Cyrus cockling me, when he was really cockling with his beloved. I suppose I found that... exciting, I would say. You must have felt similar, when you felt Rohanna's hands touching your body, and also the hands of Cyrus."

"What are you saying, Orin? You bedded the ghost of a man, and now you want to bed a real man in Bartram?"

"Bartram made me an offer, and I said yes. That is all."

"You enjoyed it, didn't you?"

"And now you're angry about it? Don't you cast any sorcery onto Bartram, Sundri, or I will become upset with you! Do you hear me, woman? He is my friend as much as you are!"

"You chose a man over me?" Sundri fumed.

"No, I chose you both!"

Sundri was at a loss over whom she would vent her anger toward, for it seemed that she was in a competition with the entire world for Orin's attention. The young man before her solved that dilemma, at least temporarily, when his lust took over.

Orin pushed the old woman against the trunk of a tree, roughly enough that Sundri nearly lost hold of her light orb. The glowing little ball wobbled until she concentrated her will and set it steady once again. That gave Orin enough time to press against her.

Orin's lips were hot against hers, and his hands tight on her arms. His passion inflamed the sorceress enough that she was soon panting and mewling, and it affected him just as much. Orin was breathing heavily on her face, and also into her mouth, as if he were exhausting all of his air on his kisses. Orin's body bumped hers, repeatedly as if they were already nude and in coitus. He rubbed his chest against hers, and pushed his thigh in between her legs.

If any man were near enough, he would have heard Sundri's wild moan carrying through the woods. Orin's thigh massaged Sundri's cleft through her clothes, stimulating her until she too kneaded her womanhood on his leg. She cried out when the enthralled young man groped her chest through her kirtle, and again when Orin started pulling up the fabric.

"Let me do it." Sundri puffed out. If she lifted her kirtle up to expose her legs, she knew, it would give Orin the time he needed to lower his breeches.

The two scrambled about, clenching material together or pushing it aside, while they kept their mouths close together. There, thought the sorceress, Orin's cock was as hard as oak and pressed against her abdomen. Now the fun part would come, when they figured out a way to cockle while standing on their feet.