Sir Osis
Sir Osis slowly pulled away from the woman and stood up. “Thank you, but I must be going. If I am to make things right, I cannot tarry here.”
“Art thou certain? The forest is a dangerous place at night,” she said with an incredibly worried look on her face.
“I am sure I can manage to find my way safely.” He bowed and untied his horse.
“At least have a drink! Here,” she beckoned him to come closer, but he turned away.
“Fare well,” he called as he went back into the woods. The urge to change his mind and turn around was strong, but he resisted even looking back at her. Something had not been right about his conversation with her. Saying things like that to a woman whose name he didn’t even know was not something he did. He decided to chalk that up to is current physical condition.
As the sun set, and Sir Osis walked along, unsure of where he was and even less sure of where he was going, he began to regret his decision to reject the woman’s author. It wasn’t as if she was some witch intent on stealing his liver to make a hair-growth potion for his uncle. Even if she was, at least he would have been rested enough to defend himself. He had had nothing to eat nor to drink since the morning, and that only made the feeling of his brain being squeezed like a sponge even more intense.
The crescent moon provided scant light, and Sir Osis realized he was going to have to spend a night in the forest. He did not trust himself to sleep in a tree in his state, and then he would have to worry about his horse. That meant his only option was to build a fire. He was starting to get cold anyway. He searched around for the driest kindling he could find and stripped the inner bark off a rotting log for tinder. The kindling was not dry enough and did nothing but smolder for some time. With much coaxing and relighting, Sir Osis finally established something that resembled a flame, fed it, and soon fell asleep on the damp ground.
***
When morning came, he noticed what appeared to be the tracks of a man circling his camp--he noticed them after lying on the ground all stiff and unrefreshed for a half hour anyway. He panicked for a good fifteen seconds before seeing that his horse was still there. Then the next order of business was to find out who had left the tracks. He followed them all around the muddy area his fire had been in until he noticed to a spot where the unknown person must have had kneeled before the fire. Then he looked down and noticed his own muddy knees…and the size of the tracks…
He hurriedly started doing elaborate leg stretches in an attempt to show any passer-byes that he had not been tracking his own movements and was only preparing for his morning cardio work-out. It must have worked, because nobody commented on his display.
Sir Osis could think more clearly now, and he was hungry. He looked around the forest to see where he was and made sure to leave evidence that he had camped there, lest he only end up in the same place in his wanderings. Then he untied Alphonse and began his journey once more.
It was only an hour before he heard the sound of a cart rolling down a dirt road. He followed the sound until he reached it and caught up to the wagon.
“Might you spare me some water?” he asked the driver.
“I ain’t carrying water on me,” the wrinkled woman replied.
Where ever she was going could not have been far, in that case. “Whose land is this?”
Against all odds, her already heavily hooded eyes narrowed. It was certainly not usual to have strange men on ponies come riding out of the forest unsure of where they were, well, not on a Wednesday, at least. “Lord Feithid’s for another half-day’s ride. Now just where are you venturing to? Nothing criminal, I hope.”
What a pretty piece of information this was! You lose the daughter, and you end up on the father’s land. All he could do was slowly nod. Of course, this is how things would turn out. After a moment he managed to smile at the old woman. “Verily, I was meaning to go to his castle. I had lost my way after a misguided venture born from the desire to pursue the noble beast that is the most magnificent stag—er, beaver I had ever seen. Alas, in the process I lost both my way and my weapon, but Providence hath smiled upon me and brought me to you!”
She gave him a hard stare before chuckling. “Calm yourself, lad. I wouldn’t turn you in for poaching. Whatever night you’ve had must have been rough all right…can’t tell if that’s blood or dirt on you. You’ll get cleaned up, and I’ll fix you something to eat when we get to my home, how’s that?”
“That would be most excellent and appreciated, fair woman.”
“Name’s Mary. You trying to sound like some sort of character in a pageant thing, lad?’
Sir Osis had no idea what she meant by that and could only answer with a low “No?”
Mary shook her head and muttered something about the effect on modern entertainment on the younger generations.
Her home was a small affair with a thatched roof. A few hogs had to be shooed away from the door, but they took the offense reasonably well. The interior smelled of boiled cabbage and honey mead, the latter of which Mary immediately poured a cupful of and gave to Sir Osis. The dehydrated knight downed it immediately.
“Did you tell me your name? Tell me again anyway,” she asked, pouring him another cup.
“O...Orthopt. I was named after my sire.”
“I see. Well, you can stay and eat, Orthopt, but then you best be getting on with your business. My husband’ll be home for his dinner noon, and he won’t want you in his chair.”
He stiffened, somewhat disappointed that he was being kicked out so early, but it was kind enough for her to be feeding him in the state she found him in.
“Far be it from me to cause inconvenience for your husband. I cannot express my gratitude for your hospitality enough.”
“You’re welcome to it. Now go rinse your face off, and food’ll be ready when you get back.”
Sir Osis went outside obediently and looked around a bit until he had located a well. As he wiped the blood and grime from his face and arms, he thought about what he would do next. Would he return home as if nothing had happened? It would be suspicious if he were to be the only one who was safe, and that was not something he could hide when his lord and half the village knew what he had gone to do. If he went that route, he would be better off visiting Lord Feithid and making up something about being sent ahead with a message or something. That could be a good alibi. Maybe he should just come out and tell Lord Feithid what had happened. It was possible that it was not too late for a rescue mission.
He did have another option. Disappearing for a while could be the best plan. Everyone would assume he had died or have been sold, and after all this had blown over, he could come back and say he had won his freedom in a duel against a two-headed Norse jarl or something along those
“Art thou certain? The forest is a dangerous place at night,” she said with an incredibly worried look on her face.
“I am sure I can manage to find my way safely.” He bowed and untied his horse.
“At least have a drink! Here,” she beckoned him to come closer, but he turned away.
“Fare well,” he called as he went back into the woods. The urge to change his mind and turn around was strong, but he resisted even looking back at her. Something had not been right about his conversation with her. Saying things like that to a woman whose name he didn’t even know was not something he did. He decided to chalk that up to is current physical condition.
As the sun set, and Sir Osis walked along, unsure of where he was and even less sure of where he was going, he began to regret his decision to reject the woman’s author. It wasn’t as if she was some witch intent on stealing his liver to make a hair-growth potion for his uncle. Even if she was, at least he would have been rested enough to defend himself. He had had nothing to eat nor to drink since the morning, and that only made the feeling of his brain being squeezed like a sponge even more intense.
The crescent moon provided scant light, and Sir Osis realized he was going to have to spend a night in the forest. He did not trust himself to sleep in a tree in his state, and then he would have to worry about his horse. That meant his only option was to build a fire. He was starting to get cold anyway. He searched around for the driest kindling he could find and stripped the inner bark off a rotting log for tinder. The kindling was not dry enough and did nothing but smolder for some time. With much coaxing and relighting, Sir Osis finally established something that resembled a flame, fed it, and soon fell asleep on the damp ground.
***
When morning came, he noticed what appeared to be the tracks of a man circling his camp--he noticed them after lying on the ground all stiff and unrefreshed for a half hour anyway. He panicked for a good fifteen seconds before seeing that his horse was still there. Then the next order of business was to find out who had left the tracks. He followed them all around the muddy area his fire had been in until he noticed to a spot where the unknown person must have had kneeled before the fire. Then he looked down and noticed his own muddy knees…and the size of the tracks…
He hurriedly started doing elaborate leg stretches in an attempt to show any passer-byes that he had not been tracking his own movements and was only preparing for his morning cardio work-out. It must have worked, because nobody commented on his display.
Sir Osis could think more clearly now, and he was hungry. He looked around the forest to see where he was and made sure to leave evidence that he had camped there, lest he only end up in the same place in his wanderings. Then he untied Alphonse and began his journey once more.
It was only an hour before he heard the sound of a cart rolling down a dirt road. He followed the sound until he reached it and caught up to the wagon.
“Might you spare me some water?” he asked the driver.
“I ain’t carrying water on me,” the wrinkled woman replied.
Where ever she was going could not have been far, in that case. “Whose land is this?”
Against all odds, her already heavily hooded eyes narrowed. It was certainly not usual to have strange men on ponies come riding out of the forest unsure of where they were, well, not on a Wednesday, at least. “Lord Feithid’s for another half-day’s ride. Now just where are you venturing to? Nothing criminal, I hope.”
What a pretty piece of information this was! You lose the daughter, and you end up on the father’s land. All he could do was slowly nod. Of course, this is how things would turn out. After a moment he managed to smile at the old woman. “Verily, I was meaning to go to his castle. I had lost my way after a misguided venture born from the desire to pursue the noble beast that is the most magnificent stag—er, beaver I had ever seen. Alas, in the process I lost both my way and my weapon, but Providence hath smiled upon me and brought me to you!”
She gave him a hard stare before chuckling. “Calm yourself, lad. I wouldn’t turn you in for poaching. Whatever night you’ve had must have been rough all right…can’t tell if that’s blood or dirt on you. You’ll get cleaned up, and I’ll fix you something to eat when we get to my home, how’s that?”
“That would be most excellent and appreciated, fair woman.”
“Name’s Mary. You trying to sound like some sort of character in a pageant thing, lad?’
Sir Osis had no idea what she meant by that and could only answer with a low “No?”
Mary shook her head and muttered something about the effect on modern entertainment on the younger generations.
Her home was a small affair with a thatched roof. A few hogs had to be shooed away from the door, but they took the offense reasonably well. The interior smelled of boiled cabbage and honey mead, the latter of which Mary immediately poured a cupful of and gave to Sir Osis. The dehydrated knight downed it immediately.
“Did you tell me your name? Tell me again anyway,” she asked, pouring him another cup.
“O...Orthopt. I was named after my sire.”
“I see. Well, you can stay and eat, Orthopt, but then you best be getting on with your business. My husband’ll be home for his dinner noon, and he won’t want you in his chair.”
He stiffened, somewhat disappointed that he was being kicked out so early, but it was kind enough for her to be feeding him in the state she found him in.
“Far be it from me to cause inconvenience for your husband. I cannot express my gratitude for your hospitality enough.”
“You’re welcome to it. Now go rinse your face off, and food’ll be ready when you get back.”
Sir Osis went outside obediently and looked around a bit until he had located a well. As he wiped the blood and grime from his face and arms, he thought about what he would do next. Would he return home as if nothing had happened? It would be suspicious if he were to be the only one who was safe, and that was not something he could hide when his lord and half the village knew what he had gone to do. If he went that route, he would be better off visiting Lord Feithid and making up something about being sent ahead with a message or something. That could be a good alibi. Maybe he should just come out and tell Lord Feithid what had happened. It was possible that it was not too late for a rescue mission.
He did have another option. Disappearing for a while could be the best plan. Everyone would assume he had died or have been sold, and after all this had blown over, he could come back and say he had won his freedom in a duel against a two-headed Norse jarl or something along those