The next few weeks saw a lull in the Skerryness festivities. There were no envois from faraway lands. No holidays or celebrations to look forward to. Even the Queen's acts of public duty were few and far between. But as the weeks went by and the season rolled on, Doe started to hear whispers, mutterings of the next big event, and occasion that was sure to capture the attention of the people. In no more than a fortnight, she would be turning twenty-one. In two weeks, Doe would embark on the Trail.
"You're a knight of the realm, and a most handsome one at that. Tell me of the Trail."
Despite her whining and her pleas, and her half-hearted threats of non-compliance, Sir Elinor was not a man whose resolve would be broken. Even Alfred had refused to divulge information about the ritual. Even after she'd gritted her teeth and let him stick it wherever he wanted, he'd returned to his awkward, oath-bound self. That had frustrated Doe to her wit's end. So she had hatched a plan.
She had waited until Elinor was on duty abroad, and Alfred was busied by chores she cared of not. And a new knight came to her room. A young knight. A- she hoped- naïve knight. And she had fawned over him. She had greeted him in her thinnest, silkiest nightie. She had sunk a hand down his pants before he'd even reached the bed, and helped him remove his clothes with a zealous eagerness. Then she'd replaced her hand with her mouth, and allowed her lips to caress him as he lay on the bed. And shortly after she hopped up onto the bed and straddled him, plucking her nipples in her fingers as she gazed down, eyes wide, into his. He gyrated on him, riding him, after the years of practise, with effortless ease.
He wasn't the biggest. He wasn't the best, not by half. But her gasps, and pants, and moans didn't let that on to him. He reached up to cup her breast, and she held his hand in close, pulling it into her chest as her boob was squashed. She immediately felt him thrust harder from under her, and began shaking her hips up and down at a faster rate. And within half a minute, her work was done. She cried out, and begged him to fill her up, and before the sentiment was out of her mouth, he'd duly obliged. When his deposit was made, she lifted herself off him, making an effort to pant extra hard, and snuggled up next to him. He wrapped an arm round her, and she did the same. And that's when she asked the question.
"The Trail?" the knight said, uncertainly. "I'm afraid it's not my place to speak of such things."
"What is your name, brave knight?"
"Gerint, Ma'am."
"Tell me, Gerint, what they would have me do. Trial? Trail? They are such similar words, yet it shows me no more truth that if they were different words entirely."
"I'm afraid I'm as in the dark as yourself. It has been decades since the Trail was last walked, and I myself too young to remember the occasion."
"But you do know what it entails," Doe pressed. "You all do!"
