Message-ID: <22616asstr$949576200@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: MelLin6695@aol.com X-Original-Message-ID: MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="ISO-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit X-MIME-Autoconverted: from quoted-printable to 8bit by sara.asstr-mirror.org id XAA17351 Subject: {ASSM} New TG from Waldo - Sword - Part 1 of 3 Date: Thu, 3 Feb 2000 06:10:00 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, apuleius, newsman Sword By Waldo (mellin6695@aol.com) This fictional story may be stored and/or redistributed by any site that is a free site, such as Fictionmania, Nifty, Sapphire, etc. Any site that charges a fee for access to their site cannot post or redistribute this story. This story, just as all of my stories, is in the public domain for free distribution. While I've freely borrowed the descriptions/names of the main characters from the Hercules television show just as they borrowed the legend of Hercules from our fables, this story/plot/words are mine and I retain all rights to this story without any claim to the television characters. The story is an adult story and if you're not the legal age, then don't read any further. I normally break my stories into small chapters because of my ISP limitations but this story doesn't separate into chapters easily so I'll leave it as one story which is distributed in three parts. Sword By Waldo "Father, I've done my chores. Tell me a story" The small cabin's sole illumination is coming from the flickering fireplace. The fire provides not only the illumination but also heat to warm the inside of the primitive cabin and to cook the night's simple meal of rabbit stew. There aren't any luxury items within the cabin because the poor farmer barely raises enough crops to feed his family much less to sell to fill the coffers of Julius Caesar's military Governor of Greece with extra gold. The cabin's main room is sparsely furnished, containing only a bed for the parents, a table with four chairs, a crib, a rocking chair, a fireplace, and a door leading to a small room where the children sleep. The boy's still-somewhat youthful mother is adding some additional carrots to the rabbit stew that she has been preparing all day. The stew is simmering in a large blacken pot hanging from a hook within their fireplace. Fire in the fireplace not only cooks their meals, but it acts a catalyst, drawing each of them to bathe in the flickering illumination as it warms their often chilled bones. While it's normal for women to age quickly because of the harsh rigors of being a farmer's wife in ancient Greece, the woman's soft face is just beginning to show the first wrinkles of a woman somewhere in her early thirties. She is wearing her day-to-day dress which is worn, faded and patched in many places but the serviceable dress reveals that her body is just as slender, lithe and shapely as her body was on the wonderful day that she married her husband almost eleven years earlier. She is pleased that her body's womanly firm curves are the envy of most of the other village wives who wonder how she keeps her body looking so great after three children and the harsh life of being a farmer's wife. She takes great pride in keeping her healthy body in good shape and in constantly being as attractive as she can be for her husband. Although she has a youthful body that looks like a young teenaged woman's body, her husband's special pride is her long golden hair so she hasn't cut her hair since their marriage. Hair so long that it hangs down her shoulders almost to the small of her back. Because of her hair's long length, she wears it in a braided pigtail during the day to keep it out of the way and lets it cascade in a flowing golden river of curls down her slender back at night within the privacy of their small cabin or at social events. Once a week on Sunday when they travel to the village as a family to trade their excess crops and to socialize with the other villagers, she will dress in her good dress and spend a little extra time making her golden tresses curlier so she can show off her flowing hair. Glancing over at her husband who is pulling his rocking chair close to the fireplace, she gleefully supports her ten-year-old son's request. So she brags on his work ethics, which offers a gentle suggestion to her husband to honor the son's request. "Jason has been a good boy today. While you were with the other village men tracking that pig-killing wolf back to its lair, Jason was being the man of this family. He milked the cows, helped little Alcmene gathered the eggs, fed the animals and put some more straw into the stall for the calf." Like his wife, the husband's weathered face is beginning to show signs of crossing the thirty-year-old barrier but his face also shows the harsh effects of day-to-day exposure to the outdoor elements as he farms to feed his family. His clothes have so many patches that patches cover holes in older patches. His hands are large and callused from the rough farm life. After patting his patiently waiting son on the head to reward him for helping with the family chores, the father starts filling his pipe with tobacco as he sits down in his chair. "I'm proud of you, son. Someday you will have your own farm and will need the skills that you're learning." "But I don't want to be a farmer. I want to be a hero, like Hercules when I grow up. I want to travel from village to village to fight evil." Recognizing his wife's unspoken displeasure with her son's remarks by the way that she puts both hands on her hips and stares at her husband with a "he's too young to talk this way" type of frown creasing her forehead, the father motions for the son to sit on the floor beside his chair. As soon as the son is siting on the hard-packed dirt floor, the father tries to change his son's mind by explaining the difficulties in living the type of dangerous life that the son is dreaming about. "Hercules is half mortal and half god. He survives the witches and monsters only because of his fantastic strength that comes from that mixed parentage. You are a mortal and wouldn't stand much of a chance against any of the evil that Hercules faces almost every day. Your mother and I want you to grow up to be a farmer someday, just like me." The youngster points at the short sword that is hanging above the fireplace mantle, in the place of honor. "But you weren't always a farmer. That sword is the sword of a warrior. My friend Decartes told me that you once fought beside Hercules and Iolaus when they battled an evil witch that used to live in the mountains. Decartes' father told him that you fought beside Hercules and saved our village by killing the evil witch. You used Iolaus's sword to save Hercules from the evil witch's magical spell." The father rises from his rocker and takes a couple of seconds catching a broom straw afire. While using the fire on the tip of the broom straw to light his pipe, the husband and wife exchange glances that only they understand from their years of marriage. While the husband's glance is a "what shall I say" type of look, his wife's answering glance is a "maybe it is the time that we must think that our son is soon going to be a man" type of motherly advice. As soon as the tobacco in his pipe is burning, the father answers his son's comments. "Once a farmer, always a farmer; so I am a farmer, not a warrior. Yes, I did meet Hercules once when he and Iolaus battled the old Witch of the Mountain. For two days, I ignored everything that my father had taught me as I followed Hercules to avenge my parent's death. I had only my pitchfork, my youthful strength and my stupidity to protect me from her evil and black magic. For two to three hours within her cave, I fought beside Hercules as we sought the evil Witch and then I used that sword to take her life. I came away from that cave with the sword that you see above our fireplace. I keep it not so much to remind myself of that battle but rather to remind myself that Iolaus gave his life to save me because of my stupidity that day." The youngster jumps to his feet with the agility that only children possess. "I knew it. Decartes told me that Iolaus died that day. If the battle was so fierce that the great Iolaus was killed and you survived, that means that you are a better warrior than he was." The father shakes his head as he tries to think of a way to correct his son's logic without going into too much detail about that time. Before he can come up with an answer, his wife touches him on the arm and speaks directly to her husband. "My dear Artemis, perhaps it is time to discuss that horrible experience with him. If we don't tell him the truth now then he will grow up to believe the lies and fables that the villagers still continue to tell about that horrible battle. He is a good son and smart for his age. I think that we can tell him about how you fought beside Hercules and that will help him understand why we want him to grow up to be a farmer, instead of a wandering adventurer like Hercules…. and Iolaus." Turning her head and looking toward the corner of the cabin where their six-year-old daughter, a flaxen-haired smaller version of her mother, is patiently trying to knit her first sweater, the mother's voice drops to a low volume that only her husband hears. "We need to tell him and tonight might be a good night to get it out of the way. Little Alcmene is busy with her knitting and isn't paying attention to us. Little baby Artemis is sleeping peacefully in his crib and I can help you make sure that our son knows most of the facts about his heritage." The son drops to his knees beside his father and begs silently with his wide-open eyes while the father thinks about his wife's decision. Although he is the "boss" of the family, seldom does he make a decision that he hasn't discussed with her to get her opinion. She moves a chair from their table to where she usually sits on the other side of the fireplace, silently telling him to proceed. Sitting down in the chair, she adjusts her floor-length dress so that the long dress doesn't pinch her in the wrong places. Pulling her long mid-waist hair, which is styled in a business-like pigtail around to her front, she begins her nightly routine of un-doing her pigtail. Her fingers move rapidly through the end of her hair as she separates it while she begins their discussion. "I suppose that you've heard all the normal stories from your friends about the great Hercules and his best friend, Iolaus. Well, they're true. I won't go into those stories at this time because there are so many of them that we can spend all year discussing a different story each night. I'll spend the time while we are waiting for our supper to finish cooking tonight to tell you about the time that your father fought beside Hercules and the late Iolaus." The boy scoots across the floor on his butt, moving to be near his mother because he knows that her soft voice is sometimes difficult to hear. Sitting beside her, he looks up at her as the end of her long hair begins to separate from the tightly braided pigtail that she wears to keep her long hair out of the way while she worked. "It was eleven years ago. In fact, it was exactly nine months before you were born, that Hercules and Iolaus came to our village." "Now Mother, you need to give him some understanding as to why they came here. It started a month earlier. I had just reached the manly age of nineteen and was pledged to wed someone else within the fortnight of my birthday. My father had already given me my choice of his best farmland and my friends were helping me to build this very cabin. Everything was going great and I thought that I was the luckiest man in the world. Her name was Morrigan and I had been pledged to marry her most of my life. Long dark hair, pretty smile, a good cook, a healthy woman who could easily carry a bag of floor on her strong back, a devout……" For a moment, he pauses with the pipe sticking from the corner of his mouth. There is just a glimmer of moisture in his eyes as he recalls those days. Recognizing that her husband is having to deal with memories long hidden and seldom recalled, the wife picks up on his story to distract the surprised son from staring at his father's face. "Aye, you were a lucky man, Artemis. A peaceful village, a good farm, a beautiful woman wanting to be your bride and parents that loved you. Then the evil witch came from nowhere to terrorize the countryside. Some say that she rode a broom as she flew here from the Valley of the Dead. Some say that she was imprisoned by a powerful magician a thousand years ago and somehow broke free of the spell holding her deep within the bowels of the Earth. None really know her origin because she lied to those people that she let live. She just appeared here one morning and caused havoc from the first day. Your father's best friend's mother was the first to die from her evil magic. The Evil Witch went from farm to farm, claiming whatever she wanted. Anyone that resisted her died." Taking his pipe out of his mouth and using the stem as a pointer, the father chime's in. "The first two weeks that she was here, six people died mysteriously. We all knew who was doing it but couldn't do anything about it so we gave the old witch whatever she wanted. A pig. A mule. Some chickens. I saw her come to my father's farm one day and I got my wooden pitchfork ready to stab her if she tried to harm my parents. But all she wanted was a rooster, which my father willingly gave her to make her go away. I remember standing beside the barn foolishly holding my pitchfork ready to defend myself if she tried anything against me and she laughed at me. It was an evil cackle that I'll never forget. Anyhow, she left with our rooster. The next morning, my mother awakened with a mysterious fever. All day long, we watched her get sicker and sicker. By sunup, I knew that she didn't have much longer to live. I ran to the village and found old Man Mazz who knew something about doctoring. When we returned to my home, my mother was well. Seems that the evil Witch had come at Sunset and demanded a horse in exchange for my mother's life. My father gave it to her. The witch cut an inch of hair from my mother's head and declared that the fever would be gone by morning. By the time that I returned home with Old Man Mazz, my mother was sleeping peacefully and my father was sitting patiently beside her bed. I was angry that Dad gave in to the old witch because everyone knows that witches can use a person's hair against them. But Dad reminded me that it was his home and he was the boss. So I waited with him and watched my mother recover from her mysterious fever." Artemis' voice breaks and he looks at his wife, giving her a signal to tell the parts that are too painful for him to discuss. Using the tip of her shoe gently pressing against Jason's body to attract her son's attention to her, she suggestively arches her eyebrows the way that she arches them when she told him bedtime stories. "So your Nana awakened in the morning, feeling strong and rested. She looked the best that she had looked in several months. Your grandfather was a happy man that day. But the next morning, a very scared neighboring farmer came to your grandfather's place. During the night, something like a giant bear had raided the neighbor's farm and killed two members of the family. As soon as it was daybreak, the farmer followed its tracks back to your grandfather's farm. They didn't find the wild beast that day so that night your grandfather carefully locked all of the doors and windows from the inside to protect them from the dangerous animal. He awakened during the night to find Nana missing and the front door of their cabin opened. He could hear some distant screams so he ran to the other neighbor's cabin. The giant bear was attacking them. Using torches, they drove the wild animal away but three people died from its attack. Your grandfather ran back to his cabin and got to the top of the hill overlooking his cabin, just in time to see the giant bear enter the cabin. Rushing in with his torch intending to battle the bear to death, he discovered your grandmother sleeping peacefully in bed and there wasn't any bear in the cabin. Nana couldn't be awakened until sunrise and she was acting funny. So that day, your grandfather sent your father away to supposedly protect a friend's house, but it was really so that your grandfather wouldn't have to worry about your father's safety that night. Grandpapa tried to stay awake that night but fell asleep only to awaken as something huge and furry went out the front door." The youth's eyes are wide open as he stares at his mother's face as if he will miss something if he takes the time to blink his eyes. "Nana was gone again. Knowing that he couldn't fight the huge beast by himself, your grandfather locked the door and waited. Just before sunrise, something tried to get in the door. Something big. Something so strong that it almost broke the front door down. But it didn't get in because of the strength of the cabin door. Your grandfather braced himself against the door and listened to the wild animal growl and tear at the door with its sharp claws. About sunrise, the noise quit and the animal seemed to go away. When your grandfather finally opened the door to look outside, he was startled to discover that your Nana was sleeping peacefully just outside the door. Her hands were bleeding as if she had been trying to break into the cabin with her bare hands." "Ohhh, how did she escape the bear?" The father leans forward in his chair and his gleaming eyes are a mixture of anger and tears. Speaking to his son, he picks up telling the story in a voice that has become slightly choked with emotion. "The bear was your Nana. The evil witch had used the sample of Nana's gray hair to cast a spell on her and to turn her into that horrible creature at night. When I came home that morning to discover all of the damage to our house, I tried to get Dad to tell me what happened to the outside of our cabin. He told me to watch my mother while he went to see the priest. Two hours later, the priest came to the house to tell me that my father needed me in the village. When I got there, my father and the priest locked me in a root cellar so that I couldn't escape. They returned to my home and built a huge bow with a six-foot long arrow that they put in front of the cabin so that the deadly arrow was aimed straight at the front door. That night after my mother went to sleep, Dad…." Continued in Part 2 and 3 -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+