DISCLAIMER
Though the characters in this tale may physically remind you of people that you know, they are in no way affiliated with, or based upon, the characters of Xena and Gabrielle as used in Xena: Warrior Princess. It may shock you; nay, disgust you to know that I have watched barely three episodes of your favourite TV series (perhaps four years ago?) and so would not be able to draw upon those characters even if I wanted to. Not my fault, mind you, but that of the broadcasting authorities in my country. However, I am aware of certain physical similarities and therefore invite you to employ your own wild imagination to make the leap.

SEX/VIOLENCE/DRAMA/WHOLEWHEAT GRAIN/CSI/CARPAL TUNNEL/NOSEHAIR/MEN IN SKIRTS WARNING
If there's anything upsetting in here I'd be most aghast, avaunt! This week's chapter contains what I wouldn't describe as hurt/comfort, but more hurt/temper tantrum. Or hurt/shirt. Whatever your preference, it's not terribly traumatic, except to frogs and snails everywhere. Quick simple note: no sex here. Subtext is the name of the game. You're going to have to get your kicks from shampoo. 

COMMENTS
You are most welcome to share them with me, as long as you adore me madly. No, but really. Please don't waste time with pettiness or snotty comments - karma will pay attention, but I won't. Constructive criticism will be welcomed with open arms. As will a Triumph Bonneville, two tickets to see Sarah McLachlan, airplane tickets to get me there, hotel rooms for the duration, a stacked minibar and you get the idea. Find me at: kalexy@webmail.co.za

AND FINALLY
I'm serious about the Bonneville. Use a padded envelope if you must. 

CHAPTER FOUR

Luckily for Crispin, she ended up face first in the lake at the bottom of the hill with steam rising around her ears. Sitting up in the mud, she pulled off her helmet and dislodged a lily pad from her head, doing a quick inventory of her body parts. Head, still there. Limbs, still there. Stomach, scorched. Hands, scorched. Armor, cooling down. Everything in between, scraped and battered.

“Crispin?!”

Princess, still there.

Crispin tried to rise to her feet but the accumulated water in her armor made her too heavy. With a sigh she wiped her hair out of her face and watched in grim amusement as Helena came running through the grass at full speed with her dress clasped above her knees in both hands. Even the shallow water proved to be no deterrent for her short stature.

With a final splash the princess dropped to her knees beside the wet and miserable-looking knight. She tried to seem nonchalant about the unfamiliar and unpleasant sensation of mud squelching under her feet, but couldn’t control the invariable distasteful wrinkling of her nose. Wincing slightly, the knight stuck one finger in her ear and wriggled it.

“Well.”

“Are you all right?” Helena quickly took stock of Crispin’s appearance, trying to ascertain the damage.

“Hmm. Well, there was the bit when I got toasted by a dragon… now that was terrific… then the bit where I rolled down a granite hill with my armor on fire… no, no,  that was really the best part… then the bit where I landed in the shallow end of a lake with mud in my pants… oh wait, it was all fantastic!”

Irritably Crispin struggled to loosen one of the metal clasps on the side of her armor and succeeded in scraping her knuckles. Brushing her fumbling hands away Helena loosened both clasps holding the vertical seams together over her ribs, then tried to lift the heavy armor over Crispin’s head. Even with the knight’s assistance she was still unprepared for the weight, and toppled over backwards until she was sitting in the water opposite the dark woman. They looked gravely at each other over the armor lying between them: one a tall dark-haired woman with blistered hands, covered in scrapes and bruises; the other a small blonde woman sitting in the mud with her dress billowing around her ears.

“I’m sorry.”

The knight opened her mouth and then closed it in disbelief, brow furrowed. “What?”

“I’m so sorry.” Helena was the very picture of remorse. She stared into the shallow water between them, trying not to look Crispin in the eye. “I’m really exceedingly sorry. You didn’t want to do this and I insisted. And you ended up getting hurt. So I won’t do what you don’t want me to in the future and I’ll listen to you when you tell me something. And I’m sorry. Really. Again.”

Crispin sat silently for a moment, not sure what to do with this atypically remorseful character, and then cleared her throat.

“Erm. Thank you. Though I am very sure you will continue to do whatever it is you want to do in the future.” Getting to her feet Crispin peered down and eyed what was left of her beloved formerly white shirt gloomily. The dragon’s breath had trimmed an expanse of material off the front of the knight’s shirt, leaving quite a space between her snug black pants and what remained of the garment. When the knight looked back up at the princess, Helena shrugged and raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe everybody will be wearing it like that soon?”

Crispin raised an eyebrow too, looking almost amused. “I doubt this is going to catch on.” Extending a hand she pulled the princess up, then lifted the armor from the water, ignoring the burning sensation in her hands. They waded towards the bank, the taller woman ahead. When she reached the grass she dropped the heavy armor and turned to watch Helena struggling through the water, weighed down by her sodden dress. It was an amusing spectacle, but the knight had already been made fully aware with a burning glare that no smiling or even moderate enjoyment would be tolerated. She sat down where she stood instead and studied the back of her left hand, rubbing at the red blistered skin with her right thumb.

“I’m truly sorry. Honestly.”

Helena had seated herself on the knight’s right and was looking at her hand with a mixture of concern and guilt. With a sigh Crispin flexed both hands and then shook them, glancing over at Helena.

“It’s not actually your fault, princess.”

“But it is! If I hadn’t wanted to go in search of trouble you never would have gotten hurt.”

Crispin shook her head, studying the wide green eyes. “Princess, it’s not a bad thing when you want to help, even when it’s something as horribly insane as helping a dragon. And it was an accident, impossible to predict.”

“Still, I feel as though…”

“Princess…”

“Can’t you just be gracious and accept my apology?!”

Sigh. “Fine. All right. Thank you and I accept.”

It was nearing dark when they arrived at what Crispin had assured Helena would be a good place to make camp for the night. The knight had given directions from the saddle, forbidden to handle the reins, and Toby had happily followed the blonde woman as she led the way. When Toby came to a standstill Crispin slid off his back and untied the saddlebags, ignoring Helena’s glare. Dumping them on the ground she turned to untie the blankets and found them pressed into her arms by the scowling princess.

“I told you to be careful with your hands!”

“I have to set up camp, princess.”

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Um… Not to impugn your skills, but can you even make a fire?”

“The nerve! I’ve read a lot of books, I’ll have you know.” Helena tilted her head haughtily.

“Did one of your books teach you how to make a fire?” The princess pouted evasively and Crispin grinned. “Fine. When I need to hem a handkerchief I’ll let you know.”

“I’ll have you know that I have no idea how to hem a handkerchief.” They looked at each other for a moment, all four eyebrows raised, before Helena gave in graciously. “All right. We can safely assume that I won’t be doing the … more masculine … tasks.” Ignoring Crispin’s outraged expression she continued. “Do you have any alcohol?”

“In my bag.” Crispin watched as she stood up and retrieved the little flask, as well as a pretty white dress from her own bag. “No need to resort to intoxication, princess. I promise I’ll teach you the basic … masculine skills…”

“Don’t get smart with me, knight,” Helena snapped back. “Now hold out your hands.” She poured alcohol over the burnt skin, watching as a muscle jumped in Crispin’s tightly clenched square jaw, then began to tear strips off the bottom of the dress.

“Princess. Don’t do that.”

“You just love watching me struggle in these, don’t you, Crispin? I refuse to be your entertainment fodder for one more minute… and besides, I don’t need this much material when I’m wandering through the forest.”

“True.” Crispin nodded thoughtfully, and then held out a hand so that Helena could bind it with the strip of material. “First town we see, I’m going to buy you pants and boots.”

With her hands newly bound Crispin gathered wood and made a fire while Helena laid out the bedrolls and brushed down Toby. Helena had gotten into a loose sleeping shift (behind a tree, of course, modesty prevailing) and had hung her wet dress over a small shrub close to the fire to dry. Crispin, on the other hand, did not possess anything so refined as a sleeping shift, nor any modesty to speak of. She had simply and unceremoniously stripped down to her undergarments and draped the wet clothing over another shrub. Now the knight stood by the fire, tossing logs into the flames. Already embarrassed by the casual disrobement, Helena found to her mortification that she could not look at Crispin for fear of staring at her near-naked body. She had never seen anybody - other than herself - in any state of undress, and the short underpants and white material that bound the knight’s breasts left very little covered.

“Princess.”

“Yes?” Automatically Helena looked up at the knight before she managed to turn around and find something for her hands to do. With a puzzled frown Crispin studied her.

“Helena?”

“What?” The princess spoke over her shoulder, but didn’t face the knight. It seemed to be of paramount importance that she braid Toby’s tail.

Scratching her head, Crispin studied herself as well as she could.

“Is there something wrong with me, Helena?"

“What? No. Why?”

 “You’re not looking at me.”

“Erm.” The princess swallowed noisily and cleared her throat a little too loudly. “No. No. Don’t be silly. I’m just … braiding this tail right here. I can’t look at you all the time, you know.”

With an impolite snort Crispin walked around the fire and took Helena by the arm, turning her around. The princess looked about wildly for a moment before settling on the knight’s neck, which was right in line with her eyes. With a sigh Crispin folded her arms. “See? There it is.”

For a few more moments Helena feigned extraordinary interest in the neck in front of her, but the knight’s unwavering stare finally broke her resolve. “Don’t do that! You’re making me nervous.”

“Why?”

“Because.” Helena looked away for a moment, then sighed. “Because. Because you’re naked.”

“I’m not naked.”

“You might as well be! Just look at this…” Helena pointed at the material covering her breasts, “… there’s barely… I haven’t… “

With a small frown Crispin scratched her head and thought for a moment.

“What is the problem here, exactly?”

“Well.” The princess blushed a lovely scarlet red. “I haven’t seen any naked… that is, in a state of unclothedness… is that even a word?...” Crispin stood patiently, hoping that the babbling would subside, “… well, it’s just…” Helena glanced up at an ominously raised eyebrow and continued, “… when I look I can’t seem to stop and you’re going to think I’m strange for staring and…” She rambled off the sentence so fast that it took several seconds before Crispin managed to string it all together.

“I think you’re strange already.” Ignoring the little pout she continued. “Look, I understand that this is a new thing for you. So. You are most welcome to stare at me as much as you like. You may even examine me - in moderation, of course.” The princess opened her mouth, outraged, but Crispin held up a finger. “In return all I expect from you is basic cooperation.”

Helena wrinkled her nose. “For how long?”

“Excuse me?”

“Cooperation for how long?”

“For the rest of the journey, of course.” Crispin scowled down at her.

“That’s not a very fair deal.” Helena folded her arms assertively. “Considering that my lack of knowledge of the human body is a hereditary shortcoming - which you really can’t blame me for – I do not think that you should be taking advantage of my disabilities by forcing me into submission, which, by the way, is in total disharmony with my inherent nature.”

Crispin stared at her open-mouthed for a few seconds. “Eh?” Her voice had a definite tone of bewilderment to it.

“You heard me.” Helena cocked her head assertively, eyebrows raised.

“Helena. When did this turn into a debate? And what happened to your earnest declarations while I sat in a puddle of mud??”

They glared at each other for a minute, arms folded. Then Helena relented. “All right, fine. I will of course do my utmost to be cooperative if and when the situation arises. Within reason.”

“Of course.” Crispin shook her head slightly and turned back to the fire. “And now I am going to tend to the fire. Feel free to contemplate my naked body. But can you brush Toby while you do so?"

The small woman stuck her tongue out at the retreating back with as much enthusiasm as she could muster before she pulled the brush from the saddlebag and began to groom Toby. Being quite the hedonist, the large black horse dropped his head limply as his eyes completely lost focus. He didn’t seem to care that his minder had purposefully picked a spot where she could peer at his master over his back.

Crispin was a tall woman, a head or more taller than Helena, and years of hard physical work had shaped her body into a muscular frame. Her legs were extremely long and lean, her stomach flat and brown (though at this moment also red and swollen in patches), her shoulders square, and her muscular arms rounded off by large angular hands with long fingers. Helena could not help but notice the ease with which Crispin moved, the smooth agility which declared her comfort in nature more than words would have. It was undemanding to watch her movements, since she was almost never still. The fire was fed with kindling and logs, the blankets were moved according to the smoke, pots were hauled out. Then suddenly Crispin disappeared into the forest with a knife and a “Back soon,” leaving Helena to contemplate why the knight had even bronze skin all over. Surely she didn’t make a habit of wandering around naked? Helena was just contemplating any and all occasions during which one would be less than fully dressed in the sunshine when Crispin appeared in the camp holding a dead rabbit by the hind legs. Somewhere a wolf howled mournfully and the taller woman stopped for a moment just outside the light, cocking her head, before she nodded to herself and approached the fire.

“Is it close?”

With a sniff Crispin began to prepare the rabbit for the fire. “No, it’s a safe distance away.” They toasted the meat over the fire and ate in relative silence, and then Crispin wiped her mouth and stood up with a groan.

“Princess, I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. Sitting in water really takes it out of me. So if you will excuse me…” Wrapping herself in her bedroll she sneezed once and then seemed to fall fast asleep.

Helena played with the fire for a while, poking at it with sticks and all manner of things, before she became utterly bored. Toby was asleep just outside the mellow light of the fire and barely twitched his ears when she tried to strike up a muted conversation. For a moment the princess twiddled her fingers thoughtfully, and then she began to sing softly under her breath.

“A princess once lived in a tower

in a land not so far away

She waited for a prince to come

And kiss her where she lay…

And the prince came and did slay

the monster who guarded the tower

And kissed the princess where she lay…

And that’s where the tale turned sour.”

She could have sworn that she heard a chuckle from the motionless bedroll.

CHAPTER FIVE IS PUTTING ON ITS BEST DRESS ...