The Outlander
- 3 years ago
- 10
- 0
The Outlander free porn video
The Knight sat and honed his sword, watching the preparations for the forthcoming engagement. To a casual onlooker, and there were many, he looked totally impassive. He seemed as unconcerned as a one who would remain a spectator to the afternoon’s events rather than a participant. His equanimity was more puzzling to the majority who believed he would not survive what was to come.
But his horse, more used to his master’s moods than any human, could sense the growing anticipation and excitement in the big man’s frame. The steed’s harness jingled as he tossed his head and whickered gently. ‘Easy, Stonehoof,’ the Knight muttered, ‘save your breath. I may have need of it before this day is done.’
The Knight had hoped that he would never have call to put on his armour and take up his sword again. It was the last thing he wished to do. But it had become apparent that there was no other course of action open to him.
Sheathing his sword he stood to survey the site for the tournament. The green meadow nestled between the town’s walls and a bend in the slow flowing river. He watched a wagon splashing across the ford, bringing produce to this day’s market and spectators to the battle. Whilst the sun was bright a light breeze cooled the temperature and snapped the gaily coloured pennants flying from the turrets above the gate. Savouring the scents of Spring on the breeze he whispered under his breath, ‘A good day to………fight.’
His reverie was broken by the brazen tone of trumpets, calling the combatants to the lists. Hitching his cloak over his shield he walked towards the tents and hastily erected seating, already full with townsfolk.
As he approached the knot of people in front of the largest tent the first thing he saw was the reason for his presence here, the Lady Angel. Her beauty pierced him, once again, like an arrow through his armour. In an instant he was carried back to his first glimpse of her.
He had not intended to tarry in the town. The language of the locals was foreign to him and his accent and clothes marked him out as an ‘outlander’. To these insular folk a foreigner was not to be trusted and to be called ‘outlander’ was amongst the worst insults they could muster. But then he had seen her sad face through the window of a carriage as it passed through the Market Square. Smitten by her beauty he asked passers-by who it was, so beautiful yet sad, that had just passed by. Overcoming their reluctance to talk to a foreigner he learned of Angel and her fate.
She had been the fiancée of the King’s Constable, Ilbem. Not yet ennobled Ilbem was ambitious for advancement according to those the Knight spoke to. They told of how he had abandoned Angel when he found another woman to marry. A woman who could give him the money and connections he now craved to continue climbing in power and position. Despite the fact that Ilbem had called off the marriage it was Angel’s honour that had been ruined. The Knight discovered more as the tale was told. The men and women he questioned, especially the women, allowed the pleasure of reliving such a scandal to conquer their reluctance to talk to a foreigner. They told him that she was unlikely to find a husband now. The only way to restore her honour was for a champion to defeat Ilbem in ‘Trial by Combat’. But an old fishwife put paid to that idea. ‘She’ll find none to challenge Ilbem. He is renowned as a swordsman throughout this land’.
So that first sight of Angel had stolen his heart. But when his sense of chivalry was aroused as well, his fate was sealed. He had issued the challenge to trial by combat, under the Market Cross as required by tradition. If he defeated Ilbem her honour would be restored. As he mulled over these facts he thought of himself. ‘Her honour is restored, but what for me?’ He snorted silently, ‘A few more dents in my armour is probably the least worst outcome.’
Now, seeing her again, all the doubts that had been growing in his soul since that time were swept away. Whilst he could not fail to see the dark shadows of sadness etched under her eyes he was buoyed by the tiniest, trembling smile that she ventured in his direction.
As his heart leapt his attention was diverted from the Lady Angel by the approach of Ilbem, accompanied by pages and the town’s Mayor. The Constable was certainly an imposing figure. His armour was of the latest design and it was obvious that no expense has been spared. His emblem, a serpent entwined with a dagger, was embroidered in gold thread on his cloak and accentuated with jewels. The Knight was conscious of the audience drawing comparisons between this finery and his own travel stained garb and dented mail. But he felt no shame. His clothes and arms were for use, not for show. The many tales he has been told of the Constable’s reputation as a swordsman come to mind now but caused him no concern. He has his own reputation as a warrior.
Observing no traditions of chivalry Ilbem thrust his face close to the Knight and hissed. ‘I hope you have made peace with whatever pagan god you worship ‘Outlander’. Today you will die for your stupidity in meddling in my affairs.’
The Knight was less perturbed by this insult than those townsfolk who heard it. The Knight quietly replied. ‘I have nothing to atone for when I met my Maker, Sir. Can thou say the same?’
Unable to meet the hard gaze of the Knight, Ilbem twirled away and gestured to a knot of peasants behind the ropes of the arena. The Outlander had been expecting some demonstration of prowess before the ‘Trial by Battle’ proper. It was something of a tradition in these parts. It was a custom that he usually found a little tiresome. But when he saw that the peasants were struggling to carry an anvil to the centre of the grassy stage he became a little more interested. With a flourish Ilbem drew his sword. Raising it above his head in a two handed grip he brought it down on the anvil. With a flash of sparks the lump of metal was cloven in pieces. This demonstration drew a gasp of amazement from the crowd. But his opponent felt disappointed, remembering the words of the swordsman who taught him so well. ‘Brute strength and a well made weapon do not a swordsman make.’
The Knight feels all eyes turn to him and he realises that he is expected to reciprocate. Pausing for only a moment he moved to where the Lady Angel is seated. He gestured to her neck and asked, ‘If you please Milady. May I have thou scarf.’ Without taking her eyes from his face she undid the knot and passed the silken cloth to the Knight. Their fingers touched briefly during the transaction and he felt a shiver pass through his body.
With difficulty he turned away from Angel to face the watchers, and Ilbem. He threw the scarf into the air and held his sword in front of him, perfectly still. As the scarf slowly wafted down it gently fell across the blade of the sword, and sheared in two. The crowd did not gasp, but in its own way their silence was more eloquent.
Ilbem was the only person to make a sound. He snorted loudly but the Knight could now see a new light of wariness in his opponent’s eyes. The Mayor called them to him and began to explain the laws of ‘Trial by Combat’. Neither listened as their eyes locked. They both knew that once battle was joined they would make their own rules. Once again Ilbem was unable to hold the gaze of the Knight and turned away before the Mayor had finished speaking.
‘Enough!’ he cried. ‘The sooner we start the sooner this infidel dies.’ The Knight, observing the ritual, bowed to the Mayor and the other dignitaries. Then he stooped and took up a piece of the Lady Angel’s scarf and tied it about his arm above the elbow before bowing deeply towards her.
Then he removed his cloak and revealed his shield for the first time. This time the crowd did gasp. Ilbem had his back to the Knight, making last adjustments to his armour and only turned when he heard the sounds of amazement running through the onlookers. When he saw th
e emblem on the shield, a green heart on an ermine field, he was filled with a sudden fear. He did not need to hear the crowd whispering, ‘Emerald Heart? Emerald Heart!’ to recognise, too late, whom he was facing.
Ilbem was almost unmanned in an instant. Emerald Heart was famed through out many lands for his chivalry, courage and ability with a broadsword. He realised that the odds were now against him. Something was needed to improve his chances. He grabbed his page by the arm and began a desperate, rapid and one-sided conversation with him. The page departed towards the town’s gates and only then, on shaking legs, did Ilbem approach the Knight for battle to commence.
The encounter was bruising but brief. Ilbem began at a furious pace, made brave by desperation. Time and again his sword lashed down on the ‘Outlander’ but ever and again he turned away the blows with a swift parry or deft use of his shield. As Ilbem tired, the Knight moved onto the attack. Now it was Ilbem whose shield was shuddering and splintering under repeated blows. His ripostes were becoming slower and his opponent’s blows more difficult to deflect. With the last remnants of his strength he flailed his weapon at the head of the Knight. Emerald Heart’s sword flashed upwards in an instant counter-stroke.
United in Emerald Heart’s counter-stroke was an irresistible combination. A mixture of force of will, the strength of mind provided by the rightness of his cause and years of training. All this, combined with fine forging of his sword, could result in only one outcome. The two weapons came together with a shower of sparks before Ilbem’s blade shattered at the hilt.
Ilbem threw away the useless remnants of his sword and abased himself before the Knight. All his arrogance and hauteur were gone now, he thought only of saving his miserable life. Tears welled in his eyes and his voice shook as he begged, ‘Please spare me, Sir.’
Emerald Heart felt disgust well in his stomach at this display of cowardice. ‘I would not kill an unarmed man, as much as he may deserve it. But I will have thee declare that the Lady Angel’s honour is restored by thy defeat.’ Seemingly grateful at his reprieve Ilbem, still on his knees, nodded his acceptance of these terms. ‘I will have thee declare it before this audience?’ Ilbem nodded again.
The Knight turned to tell the assembled people that Ilbem would declare the Lady Angel’s honour restored. But the minute he looked away from Ilbem the blackguard seized a dagger from his boot top and lunged. The blade was aimed for a weak point in the Knight’s armour, between arm and body. Only the skill of an experienced warrior saved Emerald Heart. He heard the slight grunt of effort as Ilbem attacked and he had a split second to fling himself sideways, out of harm’s way.
Jumping to his feet Emerald Heart cursed Ilbem as a ‘treacherous dog.’ But his treachery was not done with. With his cowardly attack failed he turned to a fall back. The Knight watched as Ilbem signalled to a watchman above the town’s gates. The signal was relayed and immediately armed men, arrayed in Ilbem’s livery, began to issue from the gates.
‘Now we know where he sent his page before our battle’ the Knight muttered to himself grimly. Placing his fingers between his lips he issued a sharp whistle that quickly brought Stonehoof to his side. ‘Looks like you and I are up against it once again’ he said as he lifted himself into the saddle. ‘But it should be fun never-the-less.’
The Knight realised that he had little time for escape. He also knew that he could not leave the Lady Angel behind. Ilbem had displayed the blackness of his heart and the Knight knew that she would not be safe if she stayed in this town. Urging his horse through the milling crowd he rode towards her. At the last moment, barely slowing, he turned his mount with a touch of the rein and leant from the saddle to sweep her from the ground. She felt no strain or effort in his arms as he gently deposited her in a seated position across his saddle. For a timeless moment their eyes met before he glanced over his shoulder at Ilbem’s approaching soldiers.
She could see the concern in his eyes as he gauged their closeness. ‘Too late…………perhaps’, he whispered to himself. At that moment the Mayor snatched at the bridle of the Knight’s mount. Emerald Heart raised his sword to strike him down but the town’s leader cried, ‘Hold your blows Sir Knight, you have dealt enough this day. We have all now seen how little honour this Ilbem has, but we will make sure he keeps his end of the bargain. But there will be no safety for you or the Lady in this vicinity once we are done. So you must ride now Emerald Heart, ride!’
The ‘Outlander’ growled to the Lady Angel, ‘Hold tight!’ and spurred his horse forward. She threw herself around his neck and felt one of the Knight’s armour clad arms squeeze her to his chest. Over his shoulder she watched in amazement as the Mayor lead the town’s folk to form a barrier between Ilbem’s minions and their path of flight. She could see Ilbem spitting with fury as he urged his soldiers to pursue, in vain. Adding to his fury was the sound of the onlookers crying, chanting, ‘Emerald Heart, Emerald Heart’, as they watched the Knight and his Lady escape. Suddenly overwhelmed by a welter of emotions, the Lady Angel half swooned, her head against her saviour’s chest. But even in this precarious position she knew, as surely as she knew her own name, that she was completely safe.
Emerald Heart rode, trying to concentrate, trying to ignore the unfamiliar and dizzying scent of a woman’s freshly washed hair.
She came back to her senses when she felt his horse slow to a walk. She heard him softly saying, ‘Easy there now Stonehoof…easy boy.’ The horse whickered in response as the Knight guided the horse over to an ancient oak. She saw a swiftly running stream flowing between mossy banks. Lightly the Knight slipped from the horse and held up his arms to assist her in dismounting. She slid from the saddle and he caught her under her arms. Their eyes locked again and time slowed in a way that neither had experienced before. He noticed the flecks of darker green in the depths of her emerald eyes.
After a few seconds, or hours, she found her voice, albeit tight with emotion, and said, ‘You may put me down now if you like.’ Suddenly embarrassed the Knight lowered her till her feet were once again in contact with the ground. He turned away, but not before she caught a glimpse of the blush that burned across the big man’s face. The Lady Angel began to try and find the words to thank her rescuer. But she found herself talking to his back. Her words trickled to a halt before she took his arm and turned him towards her. But as she gazed up at his face he did not meet her eyes.
‘I did no more than my duty M’lady’. He mumbled. ‘Once I heard of thy fate my Code left me no choice other than to challenge Ilbem.’
The Lady was stunned and almost at a loss for words. Then with a sudden insight she saw through the shield of Emerald Heart’s gruffness. Here was a man of war, with no time for the airs and graces of polite society. She knew many of the stories and legends that surrounded this man. But none of them made mention of a woman in his life. She suddenly realised why he seemed to be withdrawing from her. As she thought to herself, almost laughing, ‘you great shy oaf’, she managed to say. ‘What you did Emerald Heart was far more than was called for by duty. How could I possibly repay you.’
She felt her heart beat faster as she thought of one way she could repay him. But already he was starting to mumble more excuses. The Lady Angel realised that she must ‘lead from behind’ as her mother had described it. She silenced him with a fingertip across his lips and was rewarded with another blush. Turning away to hide her smile she decided to change her tack and called over her shoulder, ‘I am much dishevelled by the roughness of your rescue’. She turned in time to see a look of
hurt cross his face. Laying the palm of her hand against his cheek she soothed him. ‘But how else could I have been saved Sir Knight?’ At this he lowered his eyes to meet hers. As she held his gaze his eyes filled her vision. She felt herself pierced by blueness, like a summer sky. Her words became large in her mouth and had trouble escaping. ‘I…am……..not, angry kind Sir. I just need to repair the ravages in that stream.’ Quicker, more confident, she added. ‘Whilst I do so you may think of what reward you would claim from me.’ Suddenly inspired she added, ‘I do not feel entirely safe from Ilbem yet’, she dissembled, never having felt safer. ‘I hope you will watch over me as I bathe, to protect me.’ She looked away, but only when she had seen his cheeks start to flush pink once more. She heard him gruffly answer, ‘Of course M’lady, I am your servant’
Without looking at the Knight she made her way to the stream. Choosing an entirely inadequate screen of reeds she disrobed. Only when she was naked did she glance over her shoulder. Her guardian knight had his back firmly turned to her yet the set of his shoulders and neck seemed to indicate a terrible internal battle. Giggling to herself she slipped into the stream where a large rock had formed a pool. At first she gasped at the chill of the water, her nipples crinkling even further. She may have had an ulterior motive in bathing this way but after all the excitement and exertion of the day it was an unalloyed pleasure to refresh and clean her body. She splashed like a child, revelling in the feeling of freedom at so many different levels.
A few quick glances showed that the Knight had not submitted to temptation, he kept guard without looking in her direction. Lady Angel flounced every so slightly as she climbed from the pool. She would have been disappointed if he had tried to look upon her nakedness. But at the same time she was disappointed that he hadn’t. Looking at all the clothes she had discarded she made a quick decision. She had felt over-dressed at the tournament and would be more so in these circumstances. With nothing to dry herself with she did not feel like putting back on all her clothes. She selected a sheer muslin under-shirt and slipped it on. Immediately the wetness moulded it to her curves and she felt a shiver run through her body, although the afternoon air in the glade was warm. Straightening, she started to walk up the bank from the stream towards the broad back of the ‘Outlander’. Clearing her suddenly tight throat she called to him, ‘I am finished. Have you chosen your reward yet?’ He turned to answer her question, and froze.
He stood transfixed as he gazed upon her beauty. The thin material clung to every curve, concealing nothing. Without conscious thought he moved closer to her, his breath suddenly catching in his throat and his heart racing. Staring deep into her glowing, green eyes he felt his world contract to the space between them. Finally he spoke, as much to break the spell that made him believe he was about to fall into gaze and be lost forever. In a voice made gruff with passion he mumbled, ‘It seems the choice has been made for me.’
Slowly, hesitantly he reached for his Lady. Then, in an instant, they were in each other’s arms, her curved softness contrasting with the hardness of his armour. Suddenly, the tension broken, he laughed and slapped his breast plate, ‘It would seem I have no use for this protection now’. He dropped his sword belt and quickly unbuckled his mail, dropping the pieces about him. When he turned again to Angel she stood, arms crossed in front of her breasts, suddenly hesitant and shy. Cupping her chin in his hand and gazing into her once again he whispered, ‘Why so coy now M’lady?’ Drawing her face to his he paused for an ageless moment before gently bring her lips to his. Their mouths melted together in a first kiss that pierced the Knight to his core. Angel felt her legs tremble and it was only the strong arm of Emerald Heart around her waist that prevented her from falling. Tongues began a gradual exploration that slowly became fiercer. Advance and retreat, attack and surrender, a tender battle. A low moan of desire grew and neither of them knew who betrayed their longing in this fashion.
Dottie
- 15.06.2021
- 10
- 0
