The Quenching of Iron for Meep
Title: The Quenching of Iron
Author: charisstoma
Word count: 611
“Hey Rufus, need some piss over here,” is what Harry heard all the time.
Just once he’d like someone to buy him some drink down at the tavern so he’d have something quality to drink and then piss out. Smith was too tight with his coin. No one was going to buy a drink for him if there was nothing in it for them or rather nothing to stick themselves into to fuck. He might as well be a monk with all the water he had to drink and a celibate monk at that.
“Waiting over here.”
With a sigh Harry took himself into the smithy to top up the urine quench tank.
The ring of iron hooves on the cobbles said that Smith had a buyer for the sword he’d finished. With a shiver Harry poured water over his head feeling its coolness wash the sweat off his chest and back. He’d brought Smith in some chopped wood for the forge; as pissing, though his primary function, wasn’t the only thing he was useful for, as Smith liked to would say.
“Beautiful.”
Looked like Smith’s talents were approved of.
“How much?”
“He’s a virgin. He stays a virgin else he’s no use for quenching the iron.”
A laugh responded, “A virgin to quench your iron for you? I’d pay for him to quench mine.”
Smith gasped. “He’s no whore for sale.”
“Pretty enough and my coin is good.”
“He’s not for sale.”
There was the sound of a blade being drawn, “Then I’ll take him for free.”
“Off with you Rufus!”
Harry ran ducking through the back of the smithy and out to take to the winding lane through into the copse. He hid under a concealing arched laurel’s boughs and waited for night to fall. When finally he left his den of leaves he carefully crept back to the smithy. The forge had been banked for the night so Smith must have escaped the knight’s displeasure.
“Smith?” he softly called.
“Here.”
Smith hadn’t escaped totally, his arm was bloodied but appeared whole.
“You escaped, did you my Rufus?
“Aye. I hid under a laurel tree.”
For some reason this set Smith off into laughter. “Well then I think it time I made an honest smith of you. Nothing like nearly losing someone, to put a person into mind of how much a fool you’d been. I expect that a no longer virgin ginger would be just as good for quenching iron as a virgin one anyway. That is… if you’ve a mind to take up with someone like me whose been tamping down his feelings.”
“I still have to tend to the wood?”
Smith went off into mirth again, “Aye, both for the forge and for the smith if you’ll have me.”
“Will you buy me some drink down at the tavern then?”
“Well as to that, thought you might like to learn how to brew our own ale. Don’t think I’ve not noticed you talking to some of the good wives about things.”
“You want me to learn the smithy, cut the wood, brew our ale… next thing I know you’ll have me cleaning the house and making the meals.”
“Thought we could share some of those chores off and on, as long as you’ll share my bed.”
“Like wedded?”
“Like wedded.”
Harry grinned, “okay but you keep calling me Rufus. M’name’s Harry.”
“Harry then, though I’ll be calling you Rufus in public. Don’t want folk to think I’ve gone soft now, do I?”
“Well I am supposed to tend to your wood,” Harry snickered, “no getting me with bairn though.”
"Think we could be avoiding that bit."
Author: charisstoma
Word count: 611
“Hey Rufus, need some piss over here,” is what Harry heard all the time.
Just once he’d like someone to buy him some drink down at the tavern so he’d have something quality to drink and then piss out. Smith was too tight with his coin. No one was going to buy a drink for him if there was nothing in it for them or rather nothing to stick themselves into to fuck. He might as well be a monk with all the water he had to drink and a celibate monk at that.
“Waiting over here.”
With a sigh Harry took himself into the smithy to top up the urine quench tank.
The ring of iron hooves on the cobbles said that Smith had a buyer for the sword he’d finished. With a shiver Harry poured water over his head feeling its coolness wash the sweat off his chest and back. He’d brought Smith in some chopped wood for the forge; as pissing, though his primary function, wasn’t the only thing he was useful for, as Smith liked to would say.
“Beautiful.”
Looked like Smith’s talents were approved of.
“How much?”
“He’s a virgin. He stays a virgin else he’s no use for quenching the iron.”
A laugh responded, “A virgin to quench your iron for you? I’d pay for him to quench mine.”
Smith gasped. “He’s no whore for sale.”
“Pretty enough and my coin is good.”
“He’s not for sale.”
There was the sound of a blade being drawn, “Then I’ll take him for free.”
“Off with you Rufus!”
Harry ran ducking through the back of the smithy and out to take to the winding lane through into the copse. He hid under a concealing arched laurel’s boughs and waited for night to fall. When finally he left his den of leaves he carefully crept back to the smithy. The forge had been banked for the night so Smith must have escaped the knight’s displeasure.
“Smith?” he softly called.
“Here.”
Smith hadn’t escaped totally, his arm was bloodied but appeared whole.
“You escaped, did you my Rufus?
“Aye. I hid under a laurel tree.”
For some reason this set Smith off into laughter. “Well then I think it time I made an honest smith of you. Nothing like nearly losing someone, to put a person into mind of how much a fool you’d been. I expect that a no longer virgin ginger would be just as good for quenching iron as a virgin one anyway. That is… if you’ve a mind to take up with someone like me whose been tamping down his feelings.”
“I still have to tend to the wood?”
Smith went off into mirth again, “Aye, both for the forge and for the smith if you’ll have me.”
“Will you buy me some drink down at the tavern then?”
“Well as to that, thought you might like to learn how to brew our own ale. Don’t think I’ve not noticed you talking to some of the good wives about things.”
“You want me to learn the smithy, cut the wood, brew our ale… next thing I know you’ll have me cleaning the house and making the meals.”
“Thought we could share some of those chores off and on, as long as you’ll share my bed.”
“Like wedded?”
“Like wedded.”
Harry grinned, “okay but you keep calling me Rufus. M’name’s Harry.”
“Harry then, though I’ll be calling you Rufus in public. Don’t want folk to think I’ve gone soft now, do I?”
“Well I am supposed to tend to your wood,” Harry snickered, “no getting me with bairn though.”
"Think we could be avoiding that bit."