A long time ago I took a back-pack vacation. I took in several places some way off the usual tourist trail including an archipelago island chain. One of the smaller islands had a distinctive volcanic peak and whilst walking in the area of this mountain I came across a village where I spent some time over a coffee in the main square. I noticed a strange stone statue half-buried in vines and moss at the side; when I pulled some of the greenery away I found that it was a depiction of a nude female walking with a clothed male. Above this place was an old stone tower, without an obvious function. This was not a house, nor was it a windmill.
I sat and looked at the distant sea and then I got talking to an old man, a raconteur full of stories of the old days passed down across the generations.
I asked him about the curious depiction of a man walking with a naked woman. Was she his slave, I thought? I was wrong - this is the story that the old man told me.
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Nadir sat watching the workers plant crops. Below her on the hillside and on the plain beyond, women worked the fields planting rice. She hoped that the weather would be good this year; for the last two years the harvest had been spoiled by late rains that had caused rot in the stores. From her vantage point she could also see the ocean; it was calm that day with a light breeze just sufficient to keep the waves alive.
She did not help in the labour of course. She was the great grand-daughter of the chieftain who had founded the colony even before her parents had been born. Whilst that may have been also true of most of the inhabitants, she was the only child of the current village head. Now she had reached marriageable age and her parents would be arranging a suitable match with a man on the mainland somewhere.
Her famous ancestor had come from the North, with crazy hair the colour of oranges and eyes the colour of the sea. He was still known to everybody as 'Erik Sea-Eyes'. As a result of her lineage she had slightly lighter hair and skin than everyone else that she knew and she had also inherited the famous sea-eyes.
Her fair hair gleamed in the sunlight. Her skin was tanned by the sun of course; that was inevitable in the climate. She spent nearly all her time outside her hut with its thatched roof; the hut that was the centre of village life and where the people came to be married by her father, where they came for judgement on disputes.
Nadir had never been to the mainland. It entailed a sea voyage and they were not a rich nation; such a journey would always be on a ship laden with goods for trade. So she sheltered from the mid-day sun under an olive tree while the workers sweated in their toil. Several had children who played innocently in the mud; the older ones helped their mothers as much as they could and thus learned the necessary techniques that would last them throughout their lives.
The female workers wore loose long skirts tucked up between their legs and into the waist at the front to keep out of the dirt, with broad hats for shade; any more clothing was impractical for many reasons. They needed to keep cool, cloth was expensive and it would just get dirty and ripped - so without shame the women laboured top-free. The sun glared at brown backs as they toiled, unencumbered by restrictive clothing above the waist.
But Nadir had status and demonstrated this by wearing a long dress that covered her shoulders and breasts. It was not appropriate for such a lady to show her body.
Most of the men and boys were away hunting in the forestry on the mountainsides, later they would return with whatever they could catch; small mammals or birds. Another small group were out on their boats fishing.
Life was quiet and peaceful. The island was big enough for their needs and there was plenty of ground still to be cleared for future generations. Nadir wondered if her future husband would be handsome and wealthy, if he would come to live on the island or whether she would say goodbye to everything that she had ever known and reside in a city with many other people.
~**~
In the distance she saw one of the boats being paddled back to the village, where there was a small harbour. It was a little early, she thought; the best fishing was in the evening and the man should be laying out his nets ready. As she watched the man waved, but he was too far away to see her on the hillside. However she waved back instinctively.
Nadir returned to her daydream about her husband. He would be tall and muscular - she was quite tall and she needed a man of presence, to make her feel safe and protected. He would have thick bushy hair, a flat stomach that invited a touch with her hand; she would feel his rippling muscles over his abdomen down from his chest to his loins. He would have strong thighs. He would have a stiff penis complete with a heavy pair of 'eggs' ready for her...
She startled; where had that thought come from? She was a virgin with pure thoughts, kept away from the village boys so that she could have a good match. Perhaps she would marry a nobleman or even a prince with a walled town. She would brush her long hair and look out of a window in a turret upon her subjects and be wooed by her husband. That was more suitable, she should avoid crude fantasies about being impaled by a huge cock. Mmm, really huge and thick...
So, her father would return one day with her suitor; they would be betrothed and then married in a ceremony under the stars witnessed by every adult on the island. There would be feasting and merriment by all; suckling pigs would be roasted and the men would drink the fermented liquid from shredded roots that made them stagger and fall over.
Then later, they would stand in the moonlight on the mountain top and he would slowly lift her marriage gown over her head before worshipping her body. Oh dear, she was off again. Perhaps she should go for a run to escape these feelings. She loved running and climbing hills. Her father didn't really approve but she had a regular route through the mountains that she took every morning before others were awake.
Across the fields and up to the trees she would run, then to a cliff that she could scramble up using her fingers to haul her lithe body across sheer drops. She would then gallop down the river valley with the wind in her hair and her lungs bursting, finishing with a swim across the river to cool off and wash the sweat away.
She couldn't explain why, but she loved the sensation of her legs aching at the top of the mountain and the scenery passing as she dashed downwards at full pelt. The only problem was that she had developed a generously sized pair of breasts which bounced uncomfortably when she ran. With a little ingenuity she bound a strip of cloth around herself to restrain the flesh.
These runs also kept her slim and alert - although her mother told her that she should behave as a noblewoman. Such a female of culture had pale skin and a soft body and embroidered pretty patterns onto cloth all day. She should have soft flesh and a curve to her belly, not the taut muscles that her limbs and stomach had developed.
Nadir would die of boredom with such a life, surely.
~**~
