Your letter to me was recently received. It was good to know that things are progressing. I do, however, have need to ask a question…or two.
I am horrified to hear that Miss Lottabodi has been injured. Her activities were in place of the sheep? How could this have happened? On her hands and knees, you say. While that is a pleasing image, I cannot understand the need. Surely, one of the GILFs would have been happy to fill in. There are certain similarities.
The sneaky dwarf must be punished for his subterfuge. He must not be allowed to stand-tall and strut around bragging of his malfeasance. He must be punished severely. I will await your suggestions.
I am concerned about Miss Lottabodi’s …well,…private parts. I desire to know, with certainty, their condition. The veterinarian must not be a party to this any longer. I wish you to personally undertake the examination periodically to ensure proper healing. Her contribution to the business has been invaluable. I know of your dislike of her but I ask that my request be honored. One of the FPs could assist. There would not be inappropriate activities that way – in either direction.
And be sure that she has nothing to do with the catapults!
I am glad you are maintaining that device. It is a vital part of the entertainment of the Castle. I may order another for amusement in both directions – simultaneously. Using gypsies.
My darling Dragon
Never fear sweetheart, Miss Lottanonsense has recovered quite nicely. Except for the small limp, (the leg in which the glass is still embedded) and the several face, palm and knee scars, nary a gentleman has mentioned her deformities! I believe a great deal of her recovery process can be credited to me. After all it was I who suggested she take the entire 10 days off. Anyone with a lesser heart would have insisted she return immediately. The inconvenience of her absence put the other sheep on an increased workload and we almost lost another. Thankfully, she has returned to the stable and has resumed her duties. Again to show my gratitude for the team spirit she exemptlifies, she has been given the front and center stall, lush with freshly mowed hay. This prime spot has showcased Miss Lottabull's talents and has resulted in many ducats pouring in. It is because of my ingenuity she was placed there and is yet another example of how I have rightfully earned full partnership.
In my quest to save ducats I have enlisted the Veterinarian in a Barter system. His services for our services. Hence his examination of Miss Lottasqueal. Actually it works quite well, he is in and out, in a manner of speaking, in less than 20 minutes. He moves rather quickly, although truthfully darling, I believe that is how the last shard of glass was missed in her leg, Perhaps the next time he can first complete the examination, then on to pleasure.
As to an appropriate punishment to the dwarf, I have decided to give him the opportunity to redeem himself with the Stable appointment book once again. His silly little face looked so crestfallen when I admonished him, I didn't have the heart to go any further. Second chances are what I'm all about, my strong warrior. Miss Lottawhining should follow my sterling example.
Awaiting your speedy return.
It is our sad duty to advise you of the fact that a tragedy has befallen our leader, Sir Dragon.
He was running through the forest chasing gypsies with a net when he was attacked by a vicious turtle and tripped. He befallen and the right side of his face hit a rock.
He was placed on a horse and sent, forthwith, to our camp where he resides currently.
There have been, however, complications.
The rock on which he fell was covered in animal droppings. One side of his face has now swollen to twice the size of the other. It has hideous red blotches on it and bumps the size of small cannonballs.
There is more.
While on the horse, he slid off and likely shattered many bones in his legs. The horse was quite tall.
When he arrived in camp he was placed near a bonfire to keep him warm. A spark must have jumped and his hair began to burn. He has little left.
We, and the doctor, cannot ascertain his condition by conversing as he has not stopped screaming since the fall from the horse.
If he survives, and is returned to you, his face may be disfigured and his head without hair which will never grow again. He will also be quite short, about the height of a dwarf, due to the loss of bone.
We do not ask for gold or ducats to nurse him. Perhaps, a night at the Castle, without payment would do. We ask your discretion when replying as we do not want to alert the soldiers of the pleasures awaiting them there. Many will then want to leave Sir Dragon for a quiet respite. One could not blame them. His screams allow no rest and are beginning to be tiresome.
The offending turtle was executed.
Since your letter arrived several days ago, I have been overcome with grief at the thought of my poor deformed dragon in pain. I too have been suffering, weeping and wailing for hours at the quandary I now face. I haven't been able to eat for days. My once lovely, form fitting, VS dresses fall off of me. The gentlemen have had no struggles in untying my corset nor pulling off my once snug panties. For this they are grateful.
Until now I had been indecisive as to the course of action I must take in caring for my once strong but very foolish warrior. Whatever was he thinking chasing those scoundrels with a net!
Miss Lottanerve has experience as a veternarians assistant so she is the logical choice to care for my darling Dragon. With her recent injuries she has nursed herself back to health nicely with very few deformities remaining. She commands a very fair price for her talent considering her limited mobility. To make my sweetheart as comfortable as possible, I have set up a stall in the Stable not far from Miss Lottalimps. It will be padded with freshly cut hay and a fresh water trough. ( The dwarfs have been instructed they no longer are to bathe in it) There she will tend to my darling until he has recovered and returns to my arms once again. Most importantly his screams will have subsided. I can not have him disrupting our gentlemen callers with his incessant wailing. It is bad for my business. Surely my love would understand that.
A night at the castle with me will be a generous repayment for your kindness. I am willing to entertain both you fine gentlemen at the same time. It will be an evening to remember. We shall begin with a lovely dinner of roasted sheep. Sacrificed so that Dragon would have comfortable accomodations for his recovery. Then we will retire to my room where a bed built for a King awaits us. You will both leave the next morning grateful for having saved my warrior. As will I be.
As to the men who will be transporting Dragon, they will be serviced by Miss Lottaholes. The Stable will provide plenty of room for the boisterous behavior that is sure to occur. As well, it is far enough from the castle to muffle their screams.
Looking forward to your arrival
It is with great…deep embarrassment…that I, Captain Sword and also Major Pike, do hereby confess a grievous mistake to you.
We had been completely convinced that Sir Dragon was, in all respects, the one who suffered the horrible injuries that have been described to you previously. It now has been learned that the one who was covered in animal filth was an ordinary soldier who closely resembled Sir Dragon. When the soldier was discovered Dragon was out of the area, alone, following a gypsy using the smell of garlic from the individual’s skin, the gas he emitted and the sound of his jewelry as he ran.
This mistaken identity was made easier because Dragon, and his soldiers, shed their normal uniforms and wore farmer’s clothing so as to catch more gypsies. Their hair was left alone. They all looked and smelled alike.
The soldier's animal excrement smell, the dirt, the steaming hair, the burnt flesh, the cannonball face, the scars, and the screaming, kept all at a distance from him. No one wanted to be close without a face covering. And thus the error occurred.
For his benefit, and the other soldiers, this individual was executed.
Some members of the FP, and our soldiers not involved with gypsy harassment, had continued their regular duties, one of which was to look for suitable ‘playmates’. It was during one of these house searches that Sir Dragon was discovered.
It seems, as near as can be deduced from questioning the individuals, that Dragon was drugged by a ‘wenchette’ with which he was conversing. He probably mentioned he would like to drink and was offered something tasty. In that was likely a potion that caused him to become confused. He must have become unconscious. He was then kept there against his will, most assuredly for ransom, as bargaining if a prominent gypsy was caught.
Our soldiers brought him to camp. Except for some disorientation, and his constant asking for Wench, he seems to be near regular fettle. He was also a bit hairy. We had a townswoman shave him smooth so he would be recognized.
The kidnappers were executed.
He will be ready to return to the castle shortly. We did not tell him of the request made to you earlier and your kind offer, which we will now have to refuse. If he would learn of our request and your agreement, we would all be in jeopardy. Please be discreet.
We, of course, must advise him of the doings in the Castle in his absence, as we want him to know of our concerns when he was assumed to be a…rather grotesque creature and not expected to survive. He would learn of this detail when he returned anyway.
We feel that we know, with accuracy, of his fondness for you. Before his disappearance he spoke of you often. He did confide that your figure was to his liking. We suggest your weight loss be ‘adjusted’, if possible. We suggest your ‘activities’ in his absence should also be kept confidential. We also know that Miss Lottaholes, er, Lottabodi, was important to him in his ‘business’ and that he relished the fun he had with the dwarves. He was always concerned about the oiling of the catapult, so as to avoid the noises that those in pain made. This alone should have warned us it was not Dragon that was injured. He disliked screaming.
These details you should know.
I shall write to you again before Sir Dragon departs if possible. It is your decision as to how to welcome him; he has apparently been through much. His gypsy count, however, was the highest in the battalion, many caught without a net. He also personally smashed four cimbaloms, confiscated many barrels of jewelry, and helped drink many more barrels of wine. He released many animals into the wild. Some of them may make their way to the castle to be used as you see fit. The number of cards used in fortune-telling has been significantly reduced. The townspeople will now be allowed to make mistakes without prior knowledge.
We have enjoyed the messages sent between us and rue the day we misled you about Sir Dragon.
Our apologies seem inadequate. For this we apologize as well.
With amends for the replacement of Sir Dragon with a stinking, reeking, disfigured imposter, I remain in your debt.
I felt it necessary to write quickly as Sir Dragon has departed our camp.
He was, as we described in our last missive, becoming the man we knew him to be. His disorientation had lessened. His preoccupation with gypsies had also lessened. We assumed he was well. He was not sleeping with his net.
We wish to warn you of his...seeming intense interest in getting to the Castle and rescuing Miss Lottabodi. It seems he fears that some harm has befallen her. He is in a foul mood.
As he departed, we asked if he needed any of us to accompany him. No, was his only answer.
Please do not tell him of this message. We wish to avoid his wrath.
We also suggest that you present Miss Lottabodi in as fine a condition as possible.
If you require anything further, perhaps our involvement with her physical condition, advise us immediately.
But only when Sir Dragon is unavailable.
I am utterly dismayed at this recent turn of events regarding Sir Dragon. First, you would have me believe he was at deaths door. I readied the Stable for his return, as well sacrificed a sheep for the use of the stall. In between customers Miss Lottarags has been scouring the trough, made filthy from those nasty little dwarves. I, in the meantime, have been entertaining a few select gentlemen of great wealth, with ducats to lavish on me. After all my brave warriors care would be costly, and I must do my part to ensure his recovery. Or so I thought.
Then I am informed, much to my delight, it was not my darling Dragon chasing those gypsy creatures but another less fortunate soldier. Thankfully he has been put out of his misery as Miss Lottanags has been incessantly whining about her workload and would have neglected his care, no doubt. That wretched woman is so ungrateful!
A knock at the Castle door brought yet another letter from you. After thanking the handsome soldier, getting dressed and returning downstairs, I open it to find yet another turn of events. My dear sweet Dragon, was on his way to our Castle. Not to return to me but to that contemptible, sorry excuse of a woman, Miss Lottasluts.
I have crumbled in a heap of dispair, alternating between wailing and sobbing. Oh what have I done to deserve my brave warriors disdain? At your urging I had begun to eat, regaining the curves I had lost. Gentlemen were once again tugging at my tight coset strings and snug panties. They were no longer falling off, I knew my handsome Dragon would rejoice at the sight! And yet you have told me he no longer aches for my ample bosom, my generous hips, nor my shapely calves. Returning instead to that shapeless stick of a woman, Miss Lottabirdleg. Fine, so be it! There are no shortage of willing men who are eager to be entertained by my charms, to taste my lips and indulge their fantasies. As well as mine.
I shall hasten to the Stable to inform Miss Lottafilth Dragon is on his way. Her physical condition is, shall I say, replusive. The barn yard smell that emits from her pores has turned many a customer away. Frankly the sheep smell better than she, I've been told. Although with Dragons return from the land of the pungent gypsies, he may find that to be quite appealing. Then, maybe not. He is no longer my concern. I have been hurt beyond repair at my Dragon's rejection. My aching heart and shapely legs will forever be closed to him.
I regret burdening you with another missive, however it is necessary.
I decided that my men and I should follow Sir Dragon, against his wishes, to assure he arrived safely. He has been through much already. Although his mood, as I mentioned, was foul, I am his loyal subordinate.
After riding for some distance, we came upon Sir Dragon lying on the side of the road. Hurriedly, we dismounted and approached, having concerns for his condition.
He was aware and advised us of his accident.
It seems another vicious animal, this time a chipmunk, attacked his horse and caused it to rear up. He was thrown, but not on animal droppings this time. His condition seemed proper but he was a bit dazed.
He asked us to help him get to his Wench, as he wanted to see you. We carefully asked him about Miss Lottabodi, as that was his concern when he left hurriedly. He replied, “She is not of importance. I am without feelings for her”.
It seems that his fall caused his mind to change back to normal. Although shaken, he did not appear confused.
He asked us to accompany him to the Castle. Because there were many dangerous animals about, rabbits, mice and squirrels, for example, we agreed quickly. We shall proceed slowly. This message should arrive before us.
I instructed two of my men to hunt for the accursed chipmunk. They reported locating one but were not sure it was the same.
It was executed along with a likely co-conspirator.
It now seems that he will be happy to see you again once he reaches the Castle.
If we are not asking too much, perhaps my men and I can ‘visit’ Miss Lottabodi. We have heard much of her. If she be clean and without smell, that is.
The gypsies have cured us, including the men who were farmers, of an indifference to barnyard odors.
It is a time for rejoicing at the Castle! Sending your latest missive with a drunken excuse of a soldier proved to be Wench's downfall. He stumbled in, crumbled ale soaked missive in hand, weeks after Sir Dragon had already arrived. After reading the disgusting declaration of Dragons return to affection for Wench, I torched the letter as well as the soldier. It is now our little secret, Captain Sword. No one shall be the wiser.
After receiving your previous letter, Wench hastened to the Stables to began my freshening up for Dragons return. In between her sniveling and sobbing I was told Dragon was returning to me, not Wench. I thought she did an adequate job of cutting most of the sheep dung out of my hair considering her eyes were swollen. The remnants remaining, tangled in my dark hair, are barely noticible. A hat and panties hide much. Of course the flies are a nuisance but winter will be here soon. After scouring and scrubbing me for hours, Wench grudgingly handed me one of her VS dresses. Said it was her Dragons favorite, the one he loved to bury his face in as he carried her up the stairs to make love. Again the woman broke out in sobs. Pathetic!
After squeezing into the corset, the dress was tied and I was awaiting warriors return. Wench, in the meantime, was packing her belongings, all the while whimpering about her lost love. Foolish woman asked that I give Dragon a letter with her new whereabouts. Which of course, I promptly distroyed. Last I saw of Wench she was sobbing as she rode off. The dwarves were all given bow and arrows to hasten her departure. Good riddance to that woman!
Dragon returned to the Castle to be told by me his Wench had left him for another. A small lie to ensure he remains here. He has since turned his attention to me. I refuse to acknowledge the faraway look in his eyes as he removes the dress.
This shall remain between us Captain Sword. With his recent injuries, Dragons health has been unstable. It is best he remain drugged and in his room as I attend to the matter of running the Castle.
You shall be rewarded for your discretion.
My darling Dragon,
Weeks have come and gone and still no sign of you. I had hoped my letter pleading for another chance would reawaken the desire you once felt for me. And yet with each passing day, it is against the odds of you ever returning. As painful as it is, I must accept Miss Lottaguts has won your heart, as well your favorite dress of mine. A minor tussle ensued as I was about to depart the castle. A question of where the VS dress would remain. I didn't mean to shove her down the stairs, although her version would have you believe otherwise I'm sure. In fact, truth be told, I tried to grab for her as she tumbled by. A few handfuls of her hair and three of her teeth were all that was lost. It could have been much worse if I hadn't tried to break her fall with my trunk of clothes. I imagine her ribs have healed by now. Even in my sorrow at leaving that day, I put Miss Lottabalds welfare first. Grateful, she was not!
I shall remain in the cottage where we met long ago, listening for your footsteps.
My empty heart aches for you, please come back to me Dragon.
P.S. Captain Sword enamored with Miss Lottatramp, is really quite disturbing. How did he ever find the time to write her so many letters while away with you? The letters can be found in a box, under her bed. Next to his boots.