milkmaiden38
Literotica Guru
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Hanlo, the Eldest Son
Hanlo had lived by rules his entire life. His father had carved them into him like scripture: what to do, how to do it, and when. The rules had kept him safe, kept the farm steady, and spared him from the ruin he’d seen in reckless men who ignored them.But the rules had never given him companionship. They had never given him laughter, or love. He had never been on a date before. During the summer months, when the children of nearby farms gathered to learn their letters, Hanlo had kept his distance. He had watched, but never dared. Talking to them felt too risky.
Witches were dangerous. That was another rule. Yet Sir Brandon’s words had gnawed at him. Perhaps he had been a fool, clinging too tightly to safety. Perhaps it was time to think differently.
Hanlo drew a deep breath. Tonight, he would do something reckless. The thought terrified him, but it also made him feel alive—like a man stepping into his own story. He pulled on his warmest coat and opened the door.
The cold bit at his face, sharp and clean, filling his lungs with icy fire. He scanned the bushes, the trees, the rocks—every shadow a possible bandit, every silence a trap. And somewhere out there, perhaps, the witch.
“Don’t worry. They’re all dead.”
The whisper brushed his ear. Hanlo nearly leapt out of his skin. He spun, heart hammering, and found her—Tolme. She stood beside him as if she had risen from the night itself.
“I’m almost dead too! Don’t sneak up on someone like that!” he blurted.
Tolme’s lips curved. Her features were soft—golden hair spilling like sunlight, lips red as berries, skin smooth as polished ivory. But her eyes… her eyes were piercing blue, sharp enough to cut through him.
“Aren’t you going to pull a weapon on me?” she asked.
Hanlo swallowed. “No.”
Her brows lifted. “Living dangerously, aren’t you?”
“I came out here to apologize,” he said, voice steadier than he felt. “I was an ass inside. Thank you for saving my father’s life.”
Tolme’s expression softened. “You’re welcome. He’s not out of danger yet, but I think he’ll make it.”
“My name is Hanlo,” he said quickly, almost nervously. “Can I help? Horses, bodies—whatever needs doing.”
Tolme tilted her head, amused. “Glad to meet you, Hanlo. Fine. I’ll find the horses. You gather the loot. One bandit fell over there, Sir Brandon dropped a few more, and the rest are among those rocks.”
Hanlo nodded, forcing himself forward. Reckless, yes—but memorable. He found the first corpse, a charred hole burned through its chest. Magic. The sight made his stomach twist, but he pressed on, searching for weapons, coins, scraps of value.
By the time he finished, a pile of loot lay at the farmhouse door. Then came the thunder of hooves. Tolme appeared astride a black stallion, cloak snapping in the wind, her figure outlined against the lantern light. Hanlo’s breath caught.
She dismounted with effortless grace, raising her brows at his gawking. “What?”
“You… found nine horses,” he stammered.
Tolme laughed lightly. “Two are mine and Sir Brandon’s. The rest are yours. Not plow horses, but you can trade them—or hitch them if you’re bold.” She glanced at the loot and smiled. “Good work. This will help.”
“You’re not claiming any?” Hanlo asked.
“No. Nor will Sir Brandon. What remains is the graves.” Her tone shifted, practical. “I’ll dig them.”
“Let me help,” Hanlo said.
Tolme’s smile returned, sly. “You want to dig graves with a witch?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s a date,” she teased. “I’ll fetch the bodies. You find two good shovels.”
An hour later, the dead were buried. Dirt clung to their hands, jokes clung to their lips—puns about being “buried in work” and “taking digs.” For the first time, Hanlo laughed with someone outside his family.
At the farmhouse door, he confessed quietly, “Tolme… you’re the first woman I’ve ever been on a date with.”
Tolme leaned in, kissed his cheek, and smiled. “Thanks. It was a fun date. You’re not such a monster once you relax.”
Hanlo chuckled. “Not such a monster—that means something, coming from a witch.”
Tolme’s eyes gleamed. “You are defined not by what you are, but by the choices you make.”
Together, they carried the coins inside, returning to warmth. And Hanlo knew: rules had kept him alive, but risks might finally teach him how to live.
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