Odo navigated his way through the brush, aided by the sun. It was deep morning now, but a few hours ago the sky was red, when the clouds were grey wefts that looked near brown in the red warp of the bloody sky. Now the sun was near its apex, the sky a clear blue and scant a cloud was in the heavens. The environment was peaceful, calm. Birds began to sing in that fashion of theirs, a language that told of love and loss, of hopes and dreams, of finding love, of hoping of finding love in strange new places. Such is the birds call, and so it was that birds inspire lovers poems in that of man, and yet Odo couldn't help but feel... overwhelmed by his recent occurrence.
It was not love that he felt towards Aelith... but he did feel something. He felt betrayal; he felt anger, he felt many confusing things... but did he feel love? He felt something perhaps more primal, but nothing like what he assumed it was to feel like... the feeling of offering utter devotion to somebody, was that how love felt? He did not feel that way towards Aelith if it was, though he knew that was how Aelith felt towards him. It showed in her manner, her tone... the way she would look at Odo whenever his back was turned.
Taking a deep breath, Odo thought back on his previous hours. He had hastily tended to the farm animals. Two pigs needed attendance; they were the money-makers that Narla owned. There was Bertha 'the sullen' who oinked all the time in that fed-up fashion of hers, and what a ferocious temper. Odo swore to himself that if she was not pregnant by months end, she would be culled! At the very least Maximilian was a sociable creature who liked to have his head rubbed from time to time. Selling him off to impregnate other sows, well that earned a fair amount of coin for Narla, and soon both would go through pannage and be fattened with the falling of the acorn, which ought to be soon... and with fattened pigs ready to put to the market came wealth that was sorely needed at home. Bertha was definitely getting sold.
Then he fed the seven hens, Adela, Corbania, Marietta, Ruth, Regina, Greta and Agertha 'the bent'. Such simple, matronly creatures they are, like a wizened group of middle-aged women. Living with scant a care but to cluck, eat and lay eggs, but he was sure they wished diligently for a rooster to sneak in amongst them and lay them well, seeking the glories that matronly women surely seek.
And the reflection of his day brought a new line of thought to his mind.
'I cannot wait for the vegetables to come up and with them the leafy herbs of spring, roasting geese and maybe Bertha in the stew as she well-deserves.'
Hunger stirred as his stomach rumbled at the thought of spring. Odo enjoyed food after his labour, pottage that tasted different with every few weeks as new plants grew with the seasons, changing the flavour every time so that it never got old. The taste as bread was dipped into the bowl and mightily consumed, the scent of the steam wafting through the air, this was the smell of home.
And here he was, now, perhaps four minutes later through brush and grass and other plants, Odo had found his way to the stream. His loins felt sticky, disgusting... and he knew the reason why. Still covered in Aelith's virginal blood, he had tried to return home as quickly as possible so that he could hasten his way to that very stream.
But Narla had stopped him and bid that he work. And so he had, he feared his mother more than anything else. To disappoint her was near-enough to meeting the axe of an executioner in his eyes.
Odo lowered his small rush basket down by the side of the stream, unbuckled his belt and took off his tunic with haste, not caring if it fell on dirt or mud, and alongside it came his shirt, coif, hose and braies. And now he stood naked to the earth, to nature and its inherent beauty, yellow flowers were in abundance, and soon would come reds and violets, blues and whites as such flowers come with the herald of spring. The stream of water made that noise that only streams could make, calming and peaceful as the water trickled through the land. Just him, the stream and tiny little fishes roaming about.
And so Odo jumped into the stream, swallowed whole in water that left him breathless. The water was terribly cold and so his hairs stuck end on end and his skin had bubbled with goosebumps. He emerged from the water with his dark brown hair sticking to his front, covering his eyes and most of his face.
He spun his head and the hair followed, now resting just over his shoulder.
Odo walked over to his basket and took out his ball of tallow soap scented with the scent of sage and lavender, the dried bits sticking in the soap waiting to be rubbed off.
He lightly licked the soap, and feeling no fuzzy sensation of lye upon his tongue, he immersed the soap into the water for a moment and scrubbed his body with the soap. The feeling of cleanliness was great, knowing that the miasma was kept at bay and that his skin felt pure and good. He knew that he was due for a bath soon, it had been roughly seven or eight days since his last bath, but he had kept clean with a rag and a bowl of water, clearing off the essential areas of his hands, feet and face before going off to bed each night. He combed nightly and rubbed sage, hyssop and salt onto a hazel brush which he used to brush onto his teeth to fight the devils of the tooth.
Finally Odo reached down to his dick, his eyes shut tight as he quickly rubbed his penis with the soap, not wishing to see the dried blood come off of his cock.
He then swung it around for good measure before opening his eyes to inspect his tool. It was clean and he let out a sigh in relief. He had felt as though the feeling would never come out, that foreign stickiness of dried blood, but now that it was gone he felt like a weight had been lifted off of him... but the guilt remained. He knew it wasn't his fault, Aelith had used him in his sleep, but it still lingered and nagged him.
And so he ignored it. He immersed himself back into the cold water, feeling as pure as the martyr of Trebon upon ascending from the cold depths. The martyr Abo who was forcefully drowned head-first in old days past, his robe pure white and his ways forever peaceful. He was one the wisest of men in that era, placid and meek, gentle and caring. And so it was said that upon his death the lake of Lirelas froze immediately thereafter from the tears of weeping angels and from then on the men of that region followed the true faith and gave up all others. Each winter, it is said that children donned special shoes and slid about on the frozen lake... it brought back his childhood memories of slinging snowballs each and every way, he wished he could go back to an Aelith who didn't look at him with ravenous eyes, to throw snowballs at her again and to tease her in a myriad of ways.
But slender words behind his back betrayed the danger that Odo suddenly found himself in.
"Al Aikair tes fisces pace!"
Odo froze up, turning his head to find a man, short but stocky. He wore a strange quilted tunic the likes that Odo had not seen before and donned a helmet much in the shape of a kettle, with a ridge along the middle made of riveted iron plate. This armoured man held in his hands a crossbow, the tiller held back under his armpit, the iron saddle held out facing towards Odo with the string held taut where a quarrel had been placed in the furrow of the bridge. One tiny movement to the tickler and Odo would surely suffer a grievous injury.
"Neeekii!" Another man shouted out. He appeared a moment later with a spear and a shield held within his hands. He seemingly was armoured in a similar fashion as the other man, though his quilted tunic was blue instead of beige-white "Well..." The man spoke, gazing at Odo's penis in shock, though the man quickly averted his eyes and turned his back to Odo. "You must be the one that lord Osprey wants then?"
The spear-armed man quickly ground the butt of his spear down into the dirt "Get dressed, Orc-man."
Odo quietly walked up to the edge of the stream, his hands covering up his member. "What have I done? What is this for?"
The armed man with the spear sighed to himself. "Just dress... make a move and the Lanarian bastard will shoot you dead with his crossbow."
And so Odo quickly dressed himself back into his clothing, soaked though he was since he had not toweled himself dry.
****
