Once upon a time there was a little village whose hills were covered in mountain mint. In the village there lived a merchant whose greed was matched only by his ambition. Though his fistful ways were well known, haggard women could still be coaxed to tell his tale, a tale of wistfulness and despair. Long ago, or so they say, the merchant had fallen in love with one of the blonde haired huldra, a creature of the forest that mortal men fear to resist. And the young man was so fair-faced and right-hearted that the huldra herself had consented to house with him, had born him three daughters before her discarded immortality caught up with her and she expired. They say that on the day she died the young man began his lifelong quest to line his pockets with gold. They say that the glitter of the burnished coins is all that he takes comfort in. They say it reminds him of the huldra's shiny, golden hair.
And though his daughters have inherited their mother's beauty, the villagers warn that it will be their doom.
It is autumn, a time for marriages, and Heidi the merchant's middle daughter certainly agrees. For the price of a beautiful face, her older sister Hanna had been sold last year for a hefty sum, to an aged, landowner renowned for his great wealth and cruel heart, who split open her sister's maiden legs with mirthless, greedy hands. And now it was Heidi's turn, to offer up skin as pale as the moonlit beach and green eyes the color of the stormy sea... to pledge her hand, if not her heart to the lust of a wealthy stranger, to fill her father's purse at the cost of her very soul.... But she is not like her sister, poor docile Hanna, who will suffer a lifetime of nights pleading for her husband's mercies. Heidi closes her eyes. "Never" she whispers.
In her lap, Heidi holds an embarrassment of riches sent from afar, luxurious fabrics, damasks and rich furs, finery fit for the life she will lead as a consort of a nobleman in the far-away city. Her long fingers caress the wares... the village had never beheld such extravagance... and Heidi had marveled to hear tell of the city lights that shone brighter than the stars on a cold winter's night. But city lights did not compare with freedom, and Heidi has made up her mind.
So that is why in the stillness of a moonless night, Heidi leaves her childhood home, stooping only once to kiss the head of her slumbering sister, Elli; hesitating before indulging in one single extravagance... sheathing her body in the lavish warmth of a fur lined red, velvet cloak stolen from her own trousseau. Drawing the hood over her fox colored hair, filling a leather pouch with too few resources for her survival, Heidi quietly slips out the door and into the woods beyond.
The night air is a jolt upon her face, her cheeks are dusted with starlight; the curling leaves crackle underneath her feet. The tree boughs cast grim shadows against her skin. Heidi gulps... the forest is aged and full of unknowns, peopled with evils and mysteries... but for a proud girl with a head full of dreams, a dark wood full of questions is far more pleasurable than a life bereft of joy. Heidi skirts the edge of the forest, slips between the trees, careful to keep her bearings, to keep the sloping sound of the river to her left, the beating of her heart at a respectable din. There are noises in the woods that she cannot explain. And Heidi is the daughter of a huldra; she knows the old ways. And there are hiinsi to worry about as well.
Stealthily Heidi moves deeper into the forest, her scarlet cloak bleeding into the night. The trees are dense and unchartered and the villagers claim that there are knowledgeable druids who reside inside the forest depths, tomes and secrets of ancient worth. Heidi lowers her hood. Her sleek hair is the color of red clay roads, of brushfires in the summer and of wild ponies. Somewhere in the darkness a rabbit screams. Heidi starts, reaches instinctively to clutch the talismans hidden in her leather pouch, an even cross hewn of twigs of oak, knotted with a thin red cord; an intricately carved dagger... she hopes it is enough to keep the dark spirits away.
She plods on through the forest, away from her home, for miles she travels steadfastly. She is scared, but undeterred by the startling sounds: the scurries in the underbrush, the howls of craven wolves in the distance, of patrolling owls and other signs of darkness.
On the horizon the sky is just beginning to lighten, and the night is rife with activity. There is a fair mist rising from the forest floor. It dampens her senses though it quickens her pulse. And she does not hear the thud of their footfalls until they are upon her, the great, lumbering hiinsi with their glittering obsidian eyes, who are upon her in an instant, scrambling over her terrified body their thick black claws ripping her thin chemise to shreds. Her screams are muffled as she is rolled under their heavy bodies, her brick red hair ground into the fertile forest floor. And the goblin ilk is upon her.
Heidi shrieks, covers her face with her hands, hears the tough fabric of her buttermilk breeches tear, the weight of their furry bodies... she feels her sanity giving way to a rush of panicked hysteria. She hears a cry amidst the tumult, a great lurch of the savage beasts; she feels her legs slide out from under her, pulled by invisible hands. She is tangled in folds of red velvet and fur, the forest gloom is dense. There is a man, suddenly upon her, a great, hulking shadow, caught between the demon din. Heidi stumbles to her feet; she is grasping her finely wrought dagger, and her hands are shaking with sweat. There are at least four creatures, horrible creature with soulless eyes of pitch; Heidi swallows, steadies her hand, raises her long pale arm...
"Put it away, you fool" it is the labored voice of the fighting man "Your metal cannot hurt a creature of the spirit world."
Heidi cringes; she fears that the man will surely die. But even before she can avert her pretty green eyes, the ruckus is slowly subsiding, the beasts brought gradually to bay, bound as Heidi sees at last by a silken cord as thin as wire.
Heidi is amazed. "What kind of devil are you?" she asks.
The man is knotting the silver threads.
"Your gratitude is impressive" he replies.
The beasts grow quiet under his grasp; he has trussed them tightly and tied them to a tree.
"Won't the string break?" she asks at last. "It looks like it cannot possibly hold."
"It is gleipnir" he explains, "and it will hold."
She studies him then in the rosy dawn, his tall, dense body, his tangle of wavy, dark hair, his eyes that are blue like melancholy chords. The man is sweating; he bears a gash across his temple. When he is done he sits himself under tall pine tree to rest.
"Do you always travel so ill-advised, mistress?" he asks her as she gathers her courage to approach him, to staunch the blood with her cool, white hands.
"What is your name??" she says by way of an answer.
The man lifts his heavy hand, slides it under her cloak, peeling away the fabric to reveal the span of her breasts, her honeysuckle skin underneath the torn muslin of her blouse.
"I will not tell you my name, right now, mistress" he warns her; she can feel his breath on her skin. "You may call me Master Drake."
And he is drawing her body toward him, and she does not resist. Does not resist when he pulls her onto his body, nor when he wraps his bearded mouth around the soft, pink skin of her nipple, pressing against her through the shredded filaments of her shirt. And her long saffron hair shrouds his wounded head, its honey silk tickling his cheeks and his ears.... his tongue and teeth and the pricking hairs on his face needle her nakedness, make her skin feel alive... her titties swell... against the push of his tongue against thin fabric and flesh... and her verdant eyes widen in the morning mist, framed by eyebrows light as the cardinal's red wing.
He holds her firmly, though she does not resist him, though her head is spinning. As he unfastens her cloak, lets it fall to the forest floor, as he rolls her over, climbs on top of her trembling body, peels away the fine shreds of her shirt... exposing her pale, white flesh... Heidi feels the crush of pine needles against her back, the crush of his mouth, slowly descending against her skin... his large hands stroking the contours of her body, her breasts, her neck, her slender waist. A tiny shuddering gasp escapes her lips, hangs, suspended in the air—a gasp of confusion... and delight... that settles into the sky, as his tongue moves down her stomach, lingers against her ligaments.
He is tugging on her breeches; they come sliding off her stallion legs... and she is shivering though she is not cold. She feels his mouth, like a clamp... the gristle of his beard against her softest parts. Her pin-cushion lips part into an "Oooo." And the long drags of her scent arouse him, excite him, the tastes of her sweet juice. The jarring harrow of being caught between her thighs as he sucks her.
