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A Fine Tale

By Televassi

"Not again!" Hroldnir roared, slapping his thigh. The black wolf jeered and shook his mane. The old crow-bones woven into it clattered, but their sound was diminished by the jingle of silver that now adorned him. In the time since I'd stepped onto his longship he'd come far; many hearths and much wealth were now to his name.

"I won't hear another boring tale!"

The black wolf rose up from his seat at the head of the hall. His many retainers took his cue. They pounded the tables and rattled the plates, hollering their protests.

"M-my lord?" The skald stammered, brushing back his thick white fur in an attempt to stop his hackles rising. It was a lost cause - the wolves around me leaned closer, the glint in their eyes leering and fierce.

A pang of sympathy stopped my tongue. The memory of when I first travelled to Nicaea flickered before my eyes, dragging up feelings long since buried. They flared up like a breath on glowing embers: being alone, being an outsider, being mocked.

It was bad enough among tailless humans, but to feel this way among your kin was sadder still.

I muttered an excuse and walked away from Hroldnir's side to seek some fresh air, hoping it would clear my head. As I made my way outside, Avar, one of the huskarls I knew, stepped out from the rabble to intercept me.

"He came down from the trails two nights ago, a wanderer from the far north." She spoke urgently, ignoring my protests, her fine mail like a sheet of bronze as it reflected the flames of the hearth. "I remember his words when he spoke - they had this crisp accent..." She frowned as she tried to capture it. "Like ice creaking underfoot."

"Don't tell me you're superstitious." I growled and tried to push past, but the wolf grabbed my tail and refused to let go.

"He claimed hospitality - it's bad luck to treat your guests poorly." Avar rolled her eyes, alluding to the unfolding scene behind us. I snatched my tail back.

"Why don't you tell him yourself?" I snapped and gestured over to Hroldnir, but she was having none of it. She held me by my belt and growled in my ear.

"My talents lie in protecting that stubborn wolf, not talking him down. Besides, you journeyed together back when he barely had any wealth to his name, and you can move your words well - like a dagger sinking between the armour's gaps."

"Fine," I sighed. "So why is he here?"

"From the roof of the world, he called it. Come to make his name in the skaldic tongue." Avar shook her head. "Hroldnir barely gave him a look and waved him by, but it's not just that... I have a feeling the two of you might get along."

I let the silence hang between us, forcing Avar to continue.

"Take some pity on the poor wolf. He's come all this way only for his words to be received like the last snowfall before spring. He's melted away before he even has had the chance to settle," Avar observed, scanning the rest of the hall.

Everyone else had since given up on him for tales of their own. The tables had turned into themselves - huddled groups animatedly discussing their adventures and battles. The poor skald was left standing alone, his tail and ears drooping.

"I can't tell a tale for him." I folded my arms, still sore about her grabbing my tail.

"I'm helping you out here. If you toss him a bone, you may make a friend," she hissed.

"So you know him?" I paused, pushing closer to the huskarl. "Been having fun without me?" I sniffed, our fur rubbing together.

"You were preoccupied," Avar snapped defensively. "You should relax every once in a while. It'll do you good."

I took a deep breath. The huskarl did have a point, but I wasn't going to concede here.

I didn't quite realise it, but my gaze had turned back to the bard. There was something about him that kept my eyes there. He was definitely my sort of type - well kept, sleek and athletic, but there was more to him. He lacked the usual gruff manner I'd grown to expect, and spoke with intelligence and a sharp wit. If he wasn't so preoccupied in his performance, I'd have liked to talk to him - find out the sights those soft eyes had seen.

"I can't promise Hroldnir will listen," I sighed, watching the skald's pleas fall on deaf ears. Abandoning my plans, I strode back over to whisper in the black wolf's ear.

"Be fair, my friend. He does have a tough crowd."

"What's come over you?" Hroldnir turned to gawp at me.

"We have been feasting from noon to midnight..." I pressed the point, looking over the hall. Tables once piled high with all manner of food and drink were now empty. Gone were the staples and delicacies, the exotics and the essentials, the local ales and the fine southern wines. The only memory was their lingering scents, an alluring mix of rosemary, thyme, honey, saffron, and cinnamon, mingling underneath the serpentine forms carved into the high gables:

"Do you go so easy on the whelps when you meet them in battle?" Hroldnir frowned, trying to unpick the reason for my charity.

"He doesn't even bear a sword." I waved my arm before him, inviting the black wolf to take a closer look. The skald noticed my intervention and rushed up to Hroldnir's feet, giving a long, exaggerated bow.

"Forgive me, Lord, that my song displeased you. What would you wish to hear?" Iki bowed again, his ears folded flat against his headfur as he interrupted our bickering.

"At least he's canny enough to realise someone's thrown him a bone." Hroldnir shrugged and lifted his paw. The hall was silent before he'd even completed the gesture. "Speak then, boy." He sighed and rested his head.

"Perhaps one of the lives of the elder days? Our kind take such pride in the tales of our ancestors' glorious achievements!"

A chorus of groans and a well-aimed piece of crockery that narrowly missed his head was the answer to that.

"This isn't the north, boy, where everyone's tail is frozen stiff!" Hroldnir snapped. "We care about tales that actually happened - not fancies our kind should have been weaned off long ago."

The skald flinched as Hroldnir's words brought another wave of laughter from the rowdy hall. Waiting for it to abate, Hroldnir leaned back over the side of his seat at me, trying to sniff out my feelings.

"What's the betting that he doesn't know anything other than that?"

"Can you recall a single verse from scratch?" I replied, avoiding his gaze.

"Gods, when did you become so charitable?" The black wolf rested his muzzle on his paw, rolling his eyes as if kindness hurt him. He growled and chewed his tongue. "Fine!"

Hroldnir's attention turned back to the white wolf.

"Use your damn ears! I didn't pay for just your tongue! Tell us something new, something exciting! You don't win battles without taking risks!" Hroldnir barked, snapping his jaw shut so he wouldn't say more.

The hall-troop banged their paws against the table in approval, the sound reverberating like thunder in the vaulted ceiling as they echoed their lord.

"You are a mystery sometimes," Hroldnir muttered, trying to goad me out of my silence.

The white wolf twirled around, casting his arms behind him and fanning his tail as he sought to grab everyone's attention. Even though it was a smooth artifice, he seemed like a breath of fresh air. His fine patterned tunic, stitched with a black and gold thread, only made him stand out more among the hall. No one else was clad in such fine clothes - even at feast we were still decked out in mail and armour so he stood out easily. And not just because of his dress, but also, how well it held to the shape of his lithe body...

"Get on with it! Some of us don't care for your pretty looks!" Hroldnir laughed, his eyes lighting up as he finally figured it out. He nudged me in the side with his elbow, a dirty grin stretched all the way across his muzzle as he focused back on me.

"Televassi, you should have told me you fancied him, you dog!" He chuckled to himself as Iki began to sing a metered delivery.

"It's not that at all - you don't have to be so harsh," I replied through gritted teeth, paying Hroldnir at least the courtesy of discretion. "A little kindness goes a long way."

The black wolf frowned, fiddling with the silver beads in his fur.

"Did you ever think when you washed up on my ship, all those years ago, that kindness would deliver me into the lap of luxury?" The blazing hearth cast deep shadows across the black wolf's wrinkled muzzle. "At least a dozen pretenders would jump on me at this moment if I showed any weakness. Your kindness is a human vice - I show you and everyone else here a wolf's kindness," he paused, waving across the hall, "by remaining strong."

I bit my lip, but the afternoon of drinking had loosened my tongue, so my dissent slipped out anyway.

"How kind of me to have pointed John your way," I reminded him, at least giving him the courtesy of omitting the carnal details of their meeting. "That fine little arrangement of yours has grown into quite something."

"You can remember the details all you want," Hroldnir scoffed, slurping down another mouthful of fruity southern wine, "but I can easily pay some pretty, unblooded whelp to sing a sweet tune about me." Hroldnir grinned, pointing at the skald. "Don't sour the rest of evening by second guessing me," Hroldnir sighed, standing up and slapping me on the back. "I gave your pretty skald a chance, did I not?"

We paused for a moment, looking over Iki as he paced up and down the table. He would pause occasionally, ensnare some unwary onlooker with his eyes and hold them, suggesting with a soft motion of the tongue and a subtle roll of his head the desire for something more - only to then turn away and leave them hanging with the flick of his tail.

"Speaking of cocksucking... he certainly loves having so many eyes upon him. It is almost as if his talents mismatch his delivery."

"At least they're enjoying the story now" I remarked dryly. "He seems to have quite the sway on some of your hold."

"Bah! I remember when you had to get a scar or two before you had a good tale to tell." He snorted and pushed another cup of wine my way.

"No, no, no, I have had plenty of my share of wine today-"

"Gods! I'm not asking you." Hroldnir snapped, his fur stiffening. "Look around. All these hangers-on. They drink and eat as if they've not a scrap in store for winter. They have not even half as great a claim on my kindness as you, and yet you speak to me about your wants in vagueries and half-tongues."

"Are you feeling guilty because I called you unkind?" I snapped back. "I merely pointed you in the right direction back in Nicaea and gave you a good word," I relented. "I'm told many of your troop have bled for you."

"Then they're idiots," he huffed, crunching into another crisp and honey glazed cut of pork. "Sure I can't convince you to have some?"

"I still don't eat meat."

He snorted. "Bah, fine. More for me."

I waited, knowing Hroldnir had more to say. Frank conversation came in short supply now that he'd made quite the treasure heap to rest upon.

"I may have had the ship, but you knew their ways and customs - who to show my teeth to, who to bow to, who to suck up to..." He paused to lick his lips. "They'd all do well to take note and act with more brains. Then maybe we'd have a kingdom strong enough to call our own instead of selling our swords to hapless southerners! Maybe your 'kindness' will even have a place to grow here..."

"How much wine have you had?" I smirked, shaking my head.

"Don't change the subject. They'd do better to be more like you, rather than you'd do better to be more like them." Hroldnir grinned and leaned closer. "I know they wouldn't hesitate to find out how soft that white fur of his is, or how warm his muzzle..."

I took a deeper gulp of my mead, hoping the deep cup would drown my embarrassment. Hroldnir pressed his point while I kept my muzzle stuck in there, looking down at my loincloth to see if anything stirred. I flinched and stepped back before he could investigate.

"I didn't have you down as a prude," he shot back. "Gods, you're home! You ask a favour from me, and yet you wait as if for permission when you can take whatever you wish from my hall!" The black wolf paused, eyes narrowing. "Do you not find my generosity adequate?" The faint quiver of his lip did little to conceal his white fang lurking underneath.

"I wouldn't dream of doing so at this moment." I took another gulp of mead, savouring how the sweet drink granted me a momentary reprieve from Hroldnir's questioning. In that moment the white wolf chose his moment to lock eyes with me, the soft amber in his eyes seeming to beckon me down towards the subtle, soft pink of his tongue. In my drunken state he held me there for what seemed an eternity, while the rest of the world seemed to float on by.

"Have you ever attended a proper feast among your own kind?" Hroldnir sighed. "He's ready. Why are you waiting?"

I said nothing.

"Fine. Stay here and drink more until you have the courage," he grunted, waving over a huskarl to fill up my empty cup. "Warriors like us aren't shy about their conquests."

I remained silent as I took another sip, waiting for the booze to warm me and melt through all my doubts. The black wolf stood up from his seat and went off to chatter with some other warriors. Soon they were roaring in laughter.

Hroldnir's implication however, tugged at me. Even though we hadn't even spoken, the idea of taking him there with everyone watching... tingled. The delightful abandon of such wanton carnality was hard to ignore, and as I looked around that hall it seemed others were having the same idea. Couples and groups were already beginning to pair off, paws wandering below tunics and untying belts, their eyes alight with their shared desires. They felt no shame in exploring each other, and I could only watch on in envy as that familiar pang of guilt weighed me down. Would I ever feel free like them?

I took the moment to flick my ears towards the skald, trying to forget those thoughts as he sang away. I almost considered finishing my drink and retiring for the night when a single word pricked me:

"Marionople!

That golden field where upon his lofty shoulders,

glory round clasped her golden cloak-"

"He speaks as though he was there," I commented, taking a sullen sip of mead, then another as he continued to get the story wrong. No, the city was in ruins before we arrived. There were wolves fighting on both sides. The tailless aren't cowards, not all of the horse-lords are all kentorai... Fortunately the mead soothed me, otherwise I'd grind my fangs flat before his tale was done.

"Why so sullen?" Avar asked, sneaking up beside me. It wasn't hard, given how distracted I was with my thoughts. She flicked her ears back towards me, showing she was willing to listen. "The cute skald is even telling your story," she teased, trying to get me to speak.

"He's got almost everything wrong!"

Avar laughed, shaking her head.

"Perhaps you should contest his claims then!" she joked. "If someone speaks loosely with the truth, a wolf should challenge them!"

"He's a skald," I scoffed. "They play with truth all the time."

The huskarl shook her head and beckoned for another cup of mead, lapping it up delicately from the fine patterned bowl. "Don't moan to me when you find they question your deeds, remembering his version over yours. Speak up if it pricks your hackles so. If not, have another drink and try to relax - you did a good thing intervening on his behalf."

She patted me on the back and handed me another drink, before walking back into the crowd. Maybe it was the booze, but it felt as if a simmering barrier hung about me; like the weird, shimmering water where freshwater meets the salt and sea. It would be so easy to slip through from one to the other.

I downed the drink. Why shouldn't I enjoy myself? Didn't I deserve relief from all the things Hroldnir sought to pick my brain about: how the humans organised their forces, how they could march and move their camp so quickly, whether the horse-lords plagued their lands as well, which lord he should favour by assigning them part of his hall-troop... I wished it would all just evaporate, leaving me with nothing but the sweet taste of honey on my lips, the pleasant feeling of a full belly, and the pleasure of another's company.

"That's not what happened!"

It took a moment to register that the challenge came from me, but shortly enough all eyes were on me. The prospect of a fight rekindled the celebration; once more the hall was buzzing. Hroldnir whooped his support, encouraging the other wolves to sweep me up and carry me towards the white wolf, demanding I follow through.

I leapt up onto the table, kicking the silver plates away with my paws as I squared up against this sly storyteller. A hush fell upon the hall as they waited for one of us to sling the first exchange. It hardly seemed a fair fight - he had the sharp tongue, and I the armour. But I wasn't going to back down, not with my reputation on the line and a belly full of mead.

The white wolf grinned and drew close, his slender features barely matching the sharp outlines of my lamellar chestplate and thick gambeson. Up this close I could smell his scent, no longer obliterated by the rest of the hall. He smelt of lavender, delicate enough that it didn't dominate every breath or overpower his natural scent. It seemed the sort of smell you couldn't help but happily inhale as you held him close...

"Ready to follow through?" He smirked and threw his shoulders back, placing a paw on his hip. A few stray laughs echoed about the hall, but Hroldnir cut them short with a glare.

"That's not what happened," I repeated, wincing at the sound of my voice in the silence. I heard the black wolf smack his head against his paw. My tongue was like lead, but it wasn't the drink. All those eyes watching had a weight to them - it felt smothering. Is this what Hroldnir meant earlier? How on earth did he, or this skald for that matter, cope - let alone seek such attention out?

"And how do you know I wasn't there?" Iki smirked, waving his arm with a flourish. He was loving every moment. "Did you spend the battle taking in the scent of every warrior assembled?" He teased, pointing out my still twitching snout.

"I'd remember a pretty thing like you," I began, gaining a couple of laughs for my effort. The feedback emboldened me. "A silky thing like you struggling under the weight of the shield wall - how could anyone forget?" I shot back. I felt a little guilty mocking him and his looks, but he just grinned and revelled in the challenge. He opened his muzzle and curled his tongue, licking his lips like I'd just poured him fine wine.

"Better to stand out for my looks than blend in with the rest of the brutes!"

"I'm no brute!"

"All that time in Nicaea made you nice and soft then, poulain?" He slung back, earning a roar of laughter that made the skin under my fur flush hot.

"Have you seen yourself in a mirror?" I shot back, hastening to point out the hypocrisy in his words.

"I don't need to - I need no reminders that I'm still a wolf!"

I growled, dropped low and swung my leg. The move took out his footing, sending him tumbling onto the table with a clatter, sending empty plates spinning and cups of mead splashing to the floor. Startled, he opened his mouth to protest but I cut him off.

"Only a human would think they could beat another wolf with just words. Besides, anyone who's fought in a shield wall knows to watch their legs," I finished, folding my arms. Behind me Hroldnir whooped, smacking a few of his fellows and badgering them to pay up.

As I turned, Iki reached up and pulled me down on top of him with surprising force.

"Does a warrior also know not to turn his back one a foe?" He whispered, his tongue licking the tip of my ear.

"I'm not going to fight you, skald. You're not accustomed to handling a blade, you'd only get hurt." I sighed. Despite our verbal sparring, the feeling of his soft body underneath me stirred another response.

He nipped my ear. "It'd be a shame if you were just all talk." His paws tailed across my hips, tugging at the leather straps on my armour as his inquisitive touch tried to slip past my defences.

"You really don't know about battle, do you?" But I didn't stop him as his paw glided underneath my loincloth.

"Oh?" He cooed, rubbing his paw against the bulging leather. "I didn't expect you would leave yourself so unguarded." He took a deep breath, squeezing my crotch.

"Quick access, in case you need to relieve yourself." I guided him towards the drawstring, his delicate fingers undrawing them with barely a touch. I shivered when he took hold of my cock, resting it in his paw as he sized me up.

I was dimly aware that the rest of the hall was cheering us on, but I didn't hear much else over the roar in my ears. I wanted this. I didn't care that the rest of the hall was in the way.

"Ready to slink off somewhere then?" He breathed, but I held him there with me.

"I think you'd like the attention."

Iki gave a further squeeze, working a spurt of pre out of my tip and rubbing it against his pads. He let me go and rolled out from underneath me, lying with his back against the table. Instead of offering me his tail, he laid his head back over the table's edge and licked his lips, staring up between my legs. He pulled my loincloth and cast it aside, revealing my unstrung my breeches and erect cock. I paused for a moment, letting the skald take in the view - along with anyone else who might fancy.

"Ready to eat your words?" I growled, resting my slick tip an inch from his waiting muzzle.

"Oh my," he cooed loudly and wiggled his head, "what a fine sword-"

Before he could even finish, I thrust my cock into his slender muzzle. His soft lips parted and swallowed me, first couple of inches, then a couple more, until his lips kissed the edge of my swollen knot.

I stood there for a moment, but I wasn't in the mood to linger. The eyes of the crowd gathered around me egged me on. We were going to find out just how talented he claimed his tongue to be.

Staying inside his muzzle, I clambered up onto the table crouched down onto all fours above him, before thrusting my hips down, pushing my knot right up against his muzzle.

"Fuck!" I bit my lip to stifle the yelp bubbling away in my throat. "Finally a proper use for him."

A chorus of laughter, but I was barely aware of our audience. Every so often some lewd compliment drifted past my ears, the sound a jolt of lightning that made my nerves buzz with please and my loins tingle.

There was something delightful about being so public in our lust. I kept going, murmuring to myself as I felt his hot, slippery tongue flick over my tip, swirl over my silver studs, drink my pre and suck me deeper.

I admit, I was enjoying myself. A little bit of booze, cute and talented company was one thing, but coupled together with the dirty thrill that here we were, doing it in the middle of the hall? It was something else - something like flying.

Perhaps it was the booze, but I didn't care.

By now Iki had swept me up completely: I could picture his slender muzzle taking my swollen cock, feel his supple lips part as I worked myself deeper. It felt like a much better use than trading coarse insults.

Sensing my lowered guard, Iki flipped my armour away, tossing the thigh-guards and thick gambeson back over my legs, exposing my bare backside.

"Oh muses!" he teased, twisting about underneath me as he drew the hall's attention, "Behold, I have such a fine tail to tell now!" He gulped loudly and took my head back inside his muzzle.

He was doing his best to control me now that my thrusts were becoming firmer and more forceful, but I was determined to put him - and that tongue of his - firmly in place.

A desperation overtook me. My knot popped inside him, driving me as deep as we could. The sensation was enough to tip me over the edge of my climax. I pressed myself against his muzzle as hard as I could, feeding him until my climax dissolved into a mellow haze. His nostrils flared wide and loud, struggling to take breath as my knot swelled inside him, pulsing every time I dumped a load of seed down his throat.

Sounds started to return but I stayed there, pinning Iki to the table, my extremities tingling as I continued to pulse inside him.

"Well," a familiar voice huffed, "it seems someone still remembers how to behave like a wolf!" Hroldnir grinned, slapping me on the rump and giving me a squeeze.

I hung my head in embarrassment. Coming down from that wave of desire was like sobering up to the cold realisation of what I'd done.

"Don't be shy now, I think we all enjoyed the performance," he rumbled, "but don't think your story..." Hroldnir chuckled, prompting me to look over my shoulder. Gasping as I tried to bend around to get a look without pulling myself from Iki's muzzle, my eyes flickered between several brave admirers with enticing tents to their breeches.

I waited, expecting to feel that familiar pang of guilt that always followed. But this time it didn't arrive. I laughed, shakily at first, then with growing confidence as I tentatively explored the rest of the night's possibilities, encouraged by the compliments that met my ears. An odd form of courage blossomed in my chest, radiating out into every inch of my body. There was no sense in backing out now.

"Do you wish this story to continue, my lord?" I replied cheekily, waving my tail above my exposed rear.

Hroldnir pulled a face, then grinned. "Of course! We're finally enjoying a fine tale!"

The feast continued late into the night.