The Fortune of Ned the Ugly

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 alarmed 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 them a stew, which I considered her to be quite talented at. 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 occured 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, knowing 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 was, for once, 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 rough-hewn 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 began filling our cookpot every afternoon, 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 vegetables and 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. "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. Now you have heard our story, which you so foolishly demanded to be told, and I have throroughly enjoyed wasting your time, and the troubled looks on your face at the idea of a half-ogre and a minotaur making love.
Had this been a civil meeting, it would be polite for me now to ask about your story, but the truth is, I know it. You aren't the first one of your ilk to come here, a wet-behind-the-ears adventurer, eager for glory and loot. You heard of an inn run by a pair of uncouth brutes, and figured perhaps you could do some heroic slaying in the name of what is good and just, but now you see that you are the brute, you are the unjust. Let this be a lesson to you, young fool; forgiveness and kindness and good intentions are what create happiness in the world, not a brash sense of heroics and your father's pitted sword. Which I will be keeping, I still haven't managed to acquire one since the last town I was in, thirty something years ago.
Your stay here is at an end, now. Go home, think about this. Perhaps in a few seasons, when you are ready to do something useful with yourself, you'll start an inn of your own.
Tori, throw him out please. Thank you, love.