Borin and Merek ch.3 - "The Wolf's Den" (M/M)

Hey everyone. Here's the next installment of the Borin and Merek fantasy erotica saga. I don't have an overall title yet. 

---

Chapter 3 - The Wolf’s Den

They finally left the busy streets of the center of town and went down one lined with stone townhomes, each one larger than any single dwelling Merek had ever seen. Borin stopped at one, unlocked the door, and ushered Merek inside. He set his pack down with a thud and turned to grab Merek by the scruff. “You will need new clothing. I will not walk around with a peasant who wears a rice sack. You will walk around with me, as running about by yourself will get you only into trouble. You are unusual. There are no other foxes here. Scourthsway - no, this entire land of Hallwent - has a history with foxes. Do you understand?”

Merek nodded meekly, numb from the scruffing. Borin let go.

“I will change my clothing and then we are off to the-” The wolf stopped mid word and his ears twitched, then his face bolted up from a feral scowl to the surprise of enlightenment. Wet squelching noises came from elsewhere in the home and when Borin stopped, they stopped as well. A light clunk sounded and a stocky female badger hurried into the room.

“Ahh, Borin, you return so quickly! Your quiver must be very virile,” the badger said, then caught sight of Merek. “Is that a fox?! I thought you were hunting a purple stag!” She sniffed at the air. “Certainly smells like a stag on you.”

“This fox attempted to steal food from my camp,” Borin said, voice stern as he set his hunting gear down. Merek put his ears back and his lip quivered, tail anxiously curling about behind him. 

“Hmf, this is going to create a fuss about town!” The badger called out in sing-song, then scooped up the gear and hurried it out of the room. “A fox, in Scourthsway!”

“Who… who…?” Merek stammered, putting the swell of embarrassment away before it could become tears, now more confused than anything.

“That, is Serelda. She attends to my home, while I am present and away,” the wolf sniffed, then headed towards a staircase. “I must change my clothing from the hunt. Serelda, fire a bath. You,” he shot a stare towards Merek over his shoulder, “Do not leave. Do not open anything. Do not eat anything. Do not drink anything. Do nothing.” He then disappeared upstairs and could be heard moving about with the dull clomp of boots, then just slight creaks of floorboard beneath his bulk.

Merek did his best to follow orders, mostly from the shock of what had happened since the morning. This time the previous day, he had been so desperate, so alone, so weary, and so hungry. Now he was experiencing culture shock, something that he had not even learned the words for yet.

Serelda burst back into the room and came for Merek. “You! Come here you poor thing, I’m going to bathe you, too. You look like you’ve never even seen a drop of water,” she said, and took Merek by the shoulders. The fox shrank into himself at the touch and dragged his feet as he followed. “Unless foxes are sickened by water or something strange. Used to be a traveler I was, but even then, so few and far between.”

The badger shepherded Merek from the capacious living room room to a kitchen - with a real iron stove, then into an even smaller room that contained a circular wooden contraption and piles of clothing. The wooden basin steamed slightly, and fire flickered out from a windowed box at the side of the room, while faint whiffs of smoke tinged the air amidst cool breeze from a barred window. “N-no, I’s from Routher’s L-l-l-landing, we have  lots of water, they’s ships and stuff.”

“Routher’s Landing! How the heavens did you get all the way here? Do foxes have wings? There used to be stories… now, off with that sack. Don’t mind me, I’ve birthed child and prepared the dead.”

Merek panicked and clutched at the burlap that covered most of his body. “Why? Why? I can, myself…”

“You’re going to have a bath, dear! Mind you, a bath in the wash basin. Don’t trust that pink stuff for the wolf’s bath chamber, that isn’t from the gods, is it? Foxes don’t come in such strange colors, not I’ve ever heard. Now, a few herbs, and in you go,” Serelda clutched a glass bottle and sprinkled some of its contents into the murky water, then slapped at the edge. When Merek continued to balk, she shrugged and turned to leave the washroom.

Once Serelda was truly gone, Merek slipped out of his ‘dress’ and quickly climbed into the basin. He found the water to be nearly but not scalding, and sank down to his shoulders. Any reservations he had about the situation quickly disappeared and he leaned back against the basin. He looked up, but Serelda was no longer there. He sighed and stewed in the water, tinged with various smells from whatever had been in it previously, and the pungent tickling herbs. As he watched, the water changed color from wet stone to a pastel lilac. Even though the trek through untold miles of wood and mountain and field had dulled the tips of his fur, the ritual dye had been far too strong when he had applied it.

Serelda and Borin made a fuss elsewhere in the home, then the wolf appeared in the doorway and gave Merek a sour look. “She is going to dye the wash,” the wolf sniffed, then passed from view. In the room next door, there was a light splash and  a groan of relief.

“Oh hush, I was finishing up when you flew in,” Serelda crackled in the hallway. “And you admit it, hm? Did you make her that pink? Such a dull wolf thing to do, roll her in some shell dust or what-ot, thinking to make her a princess? Like you roll in whatever you kill, I swear!” The badger pinched the end of her snout and shook her head.

“She came that way,” Borin growled unseen. “I shall take her to find more appropriate clothing. I can’t be seen walking town with a peasant girl, even if she was saved from the woods.”

“Such a heart,” Serelda said, dripping with sarcasm, then stepped back into the wash room. “Eyes closed, hold your breath!” She snorted, then put a hand on Merek’s head and pushed him beneath the water. The fox panicked for a moment, splashing water everywhere, but bobbed up to find nothing held him under. “Once more!” The urgent badger tapped on his head, and he sank down again. “Glad you found such a wolf, I can give you an actual toweling!”  Serelda scooped up a fluffy bolt of fabric and handed it over. “Out and sit right here,” she tapped a leather clog on the floor in front of the firebox, then opened the door to it. Heat spilled out into the room.

Merek once again remained still. “I’s.. I’s don’t wanna be seen,” he said, now actively trying to play coy as much as shocked into embarrassment. Serelda snorted and left just like before. The fox climbed out and sat cross-legged on the floor, then clutched the soft fabric around himself. He had no idea what a ‘towel’ was, but it seemed to absorb the water more quickly than shaking furiously would spread it around the room. Nonetheless, after a few itchy moments, he dropped the fabric and gave a furious shake, splattering droplets around the room. He then sat back and basked in the warmth, carefully wrapped into the towel.

“Well! I see he has no useful manners, which is to be expected, but again, poor thing! All bones! A sack of antlers and a tail,” Serelda said, then went out of sight. She returned quickly with a rumpled dress. “This is not at all going to fit but we’ll have to pin it. Should be enough to get around town,” she said, and set the simple dress in the room atop a wooden ledge. “As for the scent, lucky we all use so much perfume around here.” She proceeded to dip a brush into a glass vessel of liquid and swabbed the dress with it. The room immediately smelled of musks, berries, and vanilla. “Still quite pink but a bit more fetching, you are. Not so bright like a bird.”

Merek didn’t speak. He felt dumbfounded, tired, and more than a little hungry. He let Serelda help him with the dress, then slipped back into his worn and beaten traveling sandals.

“Now, let me go and help attend to the wolf. I’m sure he’ll want to traipse around in his finery to keep his tail high.” She then ducked out and could be heard stomping upstairs. No more sounds came from the room next door; Borin had left it while the fox dried.

Merek had been explicitly told not to do anything, but once away from the wash-room’s firebox, he grew antsy. Everything around him was absolutely new in comparison to his previous life. He explored every nook and cranny of the house, at least on the first floor. The front sitting room came with a set of shelves that consumed an entire wall, full of strange leather-bound paper bundles covered in scribbles. There was a dining room with a large wooden table and a cabinet full of plates made of sparkling pottery instead of the tin or wood that Merek was accustomed to. There was the kitchen large enough for two people to fit, and a pantry full of dry goods. The back held the washroom and the bathing room, and a rear door led to a covered passageway to a latrine.

Merek was so entranced by the luxuries that he didn’t notice the thud-clop of boot heels on the wooden floor until a hand seized upon his neck again as the fox inspected the latrine’s opulent carved wooden seat. “Do not fail to heed my words,” Borin growled. “I expected you to stay in one place and especially not go out of doors.”

“I’s… s-s-sorry, Sir,” Merek stammered, looking at the floor because he could scarcely look anywhere else with a large hand pinching his nape.

“Now, we leave. I see Serelda gave you one of her old dresses. The townsfolk will be more amenable to a damsel being saved from the wild than just some strange fox appearing with their retired general.” The wolf repeated what had been overheard before.

“Sir, what’s a lass-“

“A girl. A vixen. You. Speaking of you, what do you call yourself?”

“I’s a fox, wolf sir.” Merek swished his tail out beneath the simple dress. 

Borin let go of Merek’s neck and stood straight. He had changed his clothing from his hunting uniform to something even more regal, and still conspicuously leathery. A fine black double-buttoned coat, long black gloves with golden embroidery around the very cuffs, leather riding breeches, and fold-top boots. The inky, glistening materials made him only look more severe. “Your name.”

“M…” Merek began, and realized he had no idea whether anyone knew that Merek was a boy’s name. He stuttered for a moment and recalled the first name that started with M that he could think of, belonging to a cousin: “Marla.”

“Come, before the tailor is overburdened with business for the day, or before you fall into the soil pit.”