The Fair Fortune of Ned the Ugly

I nodded, "You're the best I've ever laid a hand on, you're damn well good enough for me." She did another quick scan of the clearing, and looked a little concerned again. "And this... is the right place?" I shrugged again, and held up my hands. "It might as well be. Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think either of us fits in very well. I'm not too popular around cities, and most of the civilized races think minotaurs are savage brutes. I didn't even know better until I met you yesterday. I don't care for big crowds much anyway, and out here we can be as loud as we want without bothering no one." I grinned meaningfully at her, and Tori blushed cutely.

We spent the day exploring the nearby area, finding a downstream section of the same brook where I'd collected water for breakfast. I guessed it was fed by the trickle I'd stopped at the other morning. Tori found a small stand of fruit trees a quarter mile into the woods, and I set out a few rabbit snares, hoping to have something tasty by dinner. After that I started carrying stones from the brook to the clearing, laying out a basic foundation for a house. Tori tried to help, but I turned her away. Later, when my back was starting to hurt and my arms were tired from the work, I began to think of her rather thick arms, imagining her carrying rocks with ease, but I felt that building houses was a man's job and my ego refused to let me ask for her help. Besides, by then she'd begin working on something else.

At length I stopped to rest, asking her what she was doing to hide my exhaustion, and she replied that she was digging a garden. This wasn't something I knew much about, so I shrugged, and watched for a little while, but quickly grew bored, and went back to carrying stones. Finally I could not manage the trip any more, and I asked her opinion about the floor plan which I'd laid out. Her first response was to show me that the doors I'd set were too narrow for her to fit her horns through without turning sideways.

I set about trying to rearrange some walls to accommodate her, but this led to other problems, and eventually I was forced to admit that perhaps the hall, parlor, and guest bedroom could be added on later, and that it would be more useful to forget them for now. Things went on in this vein until I had been grudgingly talked down to a simple four-walled, one room cottage. I held out for a split-level floor just on matter of principle (which really only amounted to a raised platform for the bed to sit on), and Tori eventually admitted that it sounded nice and let me have my way.

After this, each day began to fade into the next as we found a comfortable routine. Tori slowly developed what I supposed to be a quite respectable vegetable garden with plants she'd scavenged from the woods nearby, and the walls of our home grew taller by the day. The first thing I'd completed was a raised platform graced by the most lavish bed we could figure out how to create with our limited resources, and we made good use of it at least twice a day. Some days when we were feeling more adventurous, we'd take our carnal pleasures against a tree, or in the stream, or out at the crossroads, daring someone to come by and catch us going at it. No one did.

My rabbit snares were yielding acceptable results. Tori didn't like to see me kill the little creatures, she thought they were too cute, but she was pleased with the simple clothing I made for her out of their fur. It didn't cover much, rabbits being small, and Tori being rather large, but it kept her pink parts warm and clean, and I thought she looked awfully sexy in a fur-lined halter top and bikini bottom. Months passed and travelers once again began to dare the road.

Merchants passed, and stopped occasionally just down the road, and I found that as long as I went alone and in the mornings, they were often willing to trade goods for rabbit furs. We acquired a sturdy hatchet which I sorely needed to finish the roof, clear trees, and cut firewood, and we purchased a pot for cooking, and a spade for Tori's garden, which I had to admit was beginning to produce at a fairly good rate. She seemed to have a green thumb, and I discovered soon after that she was a better cook than I as well.

I was happier than I'd been in some time. She was nearly always cheerful, and I was beginning to suspect that I truly loved her. Summer was stretching on, and the oppressive august heat was making us more restless than usual during the night. Our cottage was finished, the roof complete and ready to shelter us come the winter rains. The list of things that needed doing seemed to be growing shorter. I'd been cutting more wood for fires, but I already had more than enough from cutting a narrow path to the road.

It was Tori who suggested at length that I use some of the wood to build a shelter where we could put the rest over the winter so it could stay dry for fire-making. I jumped into the project, and finished it in a few short weeks. Still bored, I pondered what else I could build. One morning, as I was heading out to the camp pullout to see if there were any merchants camped, it dawned on me that I could build a canopy at the edge of the clearing where our house stood to attract merchants to stay, and save myself the daily walk.

The project proved to be a more complex one than I had expected. First I ran out of good wood to build with, so I began to harvest more from along the pathway I'd cut, and while doing so I realized that if I hoped to attract merchants I'd have to make the path wide enough for a wagon. I ended up with enough wood that I began to add more to my design for the shelter, and realized that the stumps needed to be removed from the path. For this I enlisted Tori and her spade (who I had finally admitted to myself was just more qualified for manual labor like digging than I), and before long we were both heavily involved in the work. There was much to do, but by the time the first rains came we had a wide path to the crossroads, and a large thatch-roofed awning, enough to shelter a dozen men and their horses. We walked out together in that first rain with a sign that read [SHELTER--TRADE--FOOD], and I held the sign with one hand, my other arm about Tori's waist, while she pounded the picket into the ground with a large rock. We smiled, hugged each other, and headed back home to fuck our brains out.

It was only a few days before we heard voices outside our cottage, just as dusk was beginning to fall. Heading out eagerly, we met three bedraggled-looking men at the entrance to the clearing. They looked wary at first, but we welcomed them warmly and they decided shelter seemed like a shameful thing to waste.

They asked if we could give them warm food, and after a brief negotiation and a few coins in the hand, I asked Tori to go inside and fix a stew--it turned out cooking was something else she was better at than I was. I sat with them and asked them for news of the world. Tori returned with the pot once she'd filled it, and we built a fire to cook it over right there under the canopy. She sat next to me on the rough-hewn log seat where I sat, and I introduced her to the three men as my wife. She looked at me, surprised at first, but then smiled and put an arm around me affectionately. The men didn't quite seem to know what to make of it, but before long the smell of stew started to fill the air and all thoughts of interracial marriages and improper conduct left their heads.

Shortly thereafter it became clear that it had never occurred to me that if I were to offer food to travelers, I would also need to offer a way to eat it. I bade them wait while I went off to collect my hatchet and a log, and in a short time I'd managed to whack out some crude bowls. I didn't have utensils for them, but they figured out how to manage with a combination of loud slurping and belt knives.

I'd specifically asked Tori to add some rabbit meat to the stew, something I normally didn't do, because I feared that our guests would likely take it amiss if there was no meat to be had. It was much to my surprise then when Tori helped herself to a bowl, and even ventured to try some rabbit. She made no complaints about it, but I observed that she ate slowly, and did not finish her bowl, which was unusual as she usually had an appetite to match her size.

When the rest of us were done eating, we threw our makeshift bowls in the fire and watched the flames consume them. Later, well-fed and feeling at ease, one of the travelers retrieved a clay jug of whiskey from his saddle, and passed it around the fire. I was suddenly acutely aware of how long it had been since I had had a good drink, and they were generous enough to share.

We sat and drank and laughed together for some hours, I learned various trivial news of the world that existed down my road, and that my newly-titled wife could hold her drink as well as any of us. At length she seemed to grow restless, and we excused ourselves for bed. When we reached the cottage, she told me that she was not feeling particularly well and asked if we could, for once, simply go to sleep. This for once was fine with me, I was feeling tired from the whiskey, and besides I was somewhat embarrassed at the thought of keeping our guests up with grunts and moos.

Morning came, and the three men departed with thanks for our hospitality. I asked them to share a brief tale of our facilities in the nearest town, should they find a place where it might reach a merchant's ear, and wished them good luck in their travels.

After they left I went to tend to Tori, who was still complaining about a stomach ache. We agreed that it might have been the rabbit, and came to the conclusion that if she attempted such a thing again, it would be smart to do so sparingly. A crude table stood in our cottage, carved by myself with the hatchet, and I stacked the coppers our guests had paid us in the middle of it, and sat, staring and considering them. At length, I decided that this had been a good idea, and that there was more to be had from it. Tori agreed, and we decided that if visitors were frequent enough, it would be fun to begin working on a small inn.

I carved more tables, worked on a stack of more functional and presentable bowls, and dug a real fire pit. Tori took to simply keeping our cook pot topped off and lighting a fire under it every evening just before dusk. Travelers stopped, alone or in small groups, every few nights. Business was steady, even if not thriving, and we began buying supplies from merchants with the coins we were paid, to help bolster the small yields of Tori's garden and my hunting.

It was satisfying, and we gradually began to fill our modest home with new possessions, practical and luxury items. Amidst this, we began to recognize a new problem: With regular guests, we were finding it harder to indulge in the frequent naked exploits we had enjoyed so freely before. Before long though, we learned that visitors very rarely stopped before the sun began to dip in the sky, so we simply worked around this schedule, and happiness was maintained.

It was into spring, nearly three seasons since we'd met, when I finally decided that it was time that I should tell Tori the truth. One evening with dusk darkening into night, no travelers camped outside, Tori and I had just finished eating dinner and she was rinsing the remains of our meal out of our dishes, slopping the water outside, when I cleared my throat and addressed her. "Honey, I need to tell you something."

She stacked up the bowls unconcernedly and turned back towards me, closing the door. "What is it?" I tried to think how best to phrase it, but nothing clever came to mind. "I'm not Hezuul Face-breaker. My name really is Ned." She stood there, blankly looking at me for a moment, and I felt fear rising in me. Fear that she would be angry or disappointed or broken. But when she blinked and spoke, all she said was "Oh."

She was silent for another moment, then added "My clan?" "I don't know. Gone, probably. You missed the real Hezuul, I was following his army." I shrugged weakly, and added "I'm sorry, babe... You were so happy, I didn't want to tell you. Your elders though, they sent you to be a sacrificial lamb, you have to realize that. Everything I ever heard about Hezuul, he would have taken you, killed your clan anyways, and then killed you too, slowly most likely. It was good you missed him, you couldn't have changed things anyways."

Tori crossed her hands across her stomach, something I'd learned she did when she was apprehensive. She shifted, and asked, "...can I stay? I like it here. With you." I was relieved. "Wh... Of course you can. I love you, don't you know that? I wanted you to know, I didn't want you thinking I was someone one else forever."

She smiled and dropped her hands, crossed the room to the platform where our bed stood. I'd made her a pair of boots and a jacket out of rabbit furs since the summer, though I was delaying on the pants. She truly didn't seem to get cold easily, and I liked being able to see her legs. She started to strip down, and I got up to join her. She climbed into our bed and watched me as I got ready to join her. "Can I still call you warlord?" I grinned, "Sure, if you want."

I crawled under the blanket with her, already admiring her smooth golden skin, eager to nuzzle my face into her breasts. She giggled and slid her arms around me, noting my excitement. "I always thought you were short for an ogre..." I grimaced, "Aw c'mon Tori, you know I don't like being the little one."

She craned her neck down to kiss me, and I felt her knees slide slowly up my sides, felt the warmth of her nethers against mine. "It's okay Ned, I don't mind you being short. You're big where it counts, and anyway, I love you too." I sighed, figuring that was as much as I could ask, and ran my tongue over her thick pink nipples. "Here I come, babe," I murmured as I plunged smoothly inside her. "MMMOOoooooo~!" she replied.

The next morning I rose first, as usual, and was getting dressed when I heard Tori call me. "Ned..." "Yeah?" I turned to look at her. She was lying on her side, propped up on one elbow, and I realized she had been watching me. She must have woken up first for once, and been waiting for me to get up. "Would you.... I mean... Have you ever thought about being a father?"

I stopped for a moment, and realized I had not. "No, I guess I never have." I considered her expression for a moment, then shrugged, "I don't think I feel much like a father. Could we even...? I mean, I'm not a minotaur or anything. And it seems like we would have had one before now." She smiled at me softly. "I think you'd be a fine father. It'll work." "How do you know?" I asked, skeptical. "I just know." I shrugged again, "Fine. Let's do it."

She rolled over on her back and lay down, and I saw her hands slide down and her knees come up under the blanket. At first I thought she was pleasuring herself, which made me both aroused and confused in turns, but after a moment the expression on her face and the way she moved changed my perspective. She was -looking- for something. Still aroused and more than a little confused, I watched as she struggled under the blanket. After several long moments, she exclaimed triumphantly, and one arm slid out of the sheets. Her hand was moist-looking, and she held what looked like a smooth, mucous-covered black pebble.

Staring in disbelief, I demanded to know what she'd dug up. "Contraceptive cup," she explained dismissively, and tossed it away. It clattered across the stone floor and came to rest in a far corner. I gaped at it for a moment, then looked back at her. She gave a shrug of her own, and added "It's a minotaur thing. The medicine woman gave it to me before I left home." She propped herself up again to look at me, and lifted the blanket invitingly.

I giggled a little as I began to undress. I could see a faint glisten between her legs already. She gave me a quizzical look, and I grinned at her. Sliding in beside her, I said, "Let's make a baby!" She blushed a little, and chuckled herself as she slid her arms around me. "Better do it twice to be sure." Time passed, and true to Tori's word, her belly began to swell. Eventually she asked me to start using the back door when I came in to play, and I bought her some maternity clothes from a salesman. She thought they made her look frumpy, but I told her I thought she was radiant. Truthfully, I didn't really care if she looked frumpy, she was still far prettier than I.

Winter passed into spring, and eventually the rains let up. I began working on a new building, bigger than our cottage, something we could call an inn. I had some difficulty at the second story, being unable to remember the Pythagorean theorem, but it was nearly done by the time the baby came. It was a boy with curly blond hair, big round ears, and tiny little horns. We were so proud, I took so much time off working on the new building that we barely got it finished and furnished by the coming fall. I made a note not to leave any windows facing our house, so that we wouldn't be permanently troubled by the ears of strangers.

Travelers started to stop regularly, there was rarely a night when we didn't have someone to feed and entertain, and money was good. Some knew of us before they even arrived. It became something of a private, running joke in the family to tell customers that I was Hezuul Face-breaker, once-feared half-ogre despot who terrorized the country, now settled down and happy with the woman he had been seeking. The babies kept coming. Some were beautiful as their mother, some ugly as I, but we loved them all, even when they tried our patience. I had to build new houses for the oldest ones. Seasons passed in happiness, and the years blended into one another.

So here we are, years later. Our Inn is well-known, our children are grown tall and strong, and we are well-situated as the unofficial land-lord and land-lady of our crossroad, whose name I have never learned and do not care to know. Tori has gone gray around the temples, and my hands are growing stiff with age, but my back is still strong and she is still beautiful.

To this day I'm not sure what became of the real Hezuul Face-breaker. Some times I entertain young, impressionable travelers with stories of how I was once a fearsome warlord spurred to acts of terrible violence and general audacity on account of my being teased mercilessly in my childhood for being the smallest ogre on the continent, it generally fetches laughter by the bucketful and often ensures repeat clients.

The real warlord, to the best of my knowledge, faded into anonymity not long after Tori was to meet him. I like to think that like me, one day he woke up and realized he'd found the treasure he was looking for all this time, be it respect or gold or a beautiful wife. Regardless of the outcome, I think my story--and perhaps his too--are not so different from most men. Know it or not, like it or don't, we're all just one day's fortune away from everything we ever wanted.