TEGSF Part 6
Part 6: In which there are attempted Orgies
"Ho!" cried the watchman from his perch upon the mast, "Ho, land I see! Land! An island lush and green. Surely we can replenish much needed supplies upon that verdant island!"
And Germany eyed his crew, damp and wet, their spirits low despite Denmark's wild laughter as the mist and fog had rolled in with no warning, the warm moist wind foiling their sails, the fog drenching their sight till they could see no further than their own hand. And lo, when the fog had lifted they found themselves adrift upon the waves, navigation hopeless upon the unmarked expanse of England's land. And as they pondered, the Gilbird drifted, and drifted, until lo upon the horizon the watchman spotted land. So Germany, brave Germany, set the ship's course towards the isle of green, for to refuse would cause his men to mutiny, lost as they were.
With a sharp shock that shuddered through her hull, the great vessel Gilbird beached upon the sandy white shores. Exhilarated, men jumped over the great sides of Gilbird's hull, impatient to reach land after so many days adrift.
"Stay close!" Cried Germany, as he eyed the bountiful island with a wary eye. But no sooner had he spoken then did appear a tribe of nymphs clad in a raiment of blue and red, the lace that adorned the edges of their dress fluttering flirtatiously in the wind, their eyes lowered coquettishly as they beckoned with the sway of their fair limbs. So long at sea, so far from the soft pleasures of the flesh, the men's blood ran hot as coals and all stood transfixed at the sight, struck by mischievous Hungary's gentle touch but for Saintly Germany, protected by bright-eyed Hungary's blessing. And lo, before Germany could send a wary call did the men disappear into the undergrowth in pursuit of the fair nymphs that fled from them. Young South Korea, the lone woman, soon too left in hot pursuit of the lusty men, for bereft of her brother she refused to be.
Germany now stood alone upon the ship's prow, and thought to go and seek his men lest they fall into foul hands. And so, the great warrior descended from his mighty vessel onto the sandy shores. So thick was the foliage, so vibrant and green, that Germany was forced to pull his sword and thrust and cut his way through the undergrowth. Only when there was sweat upon his brow, and his clothing soaked with sweat, did Germany finally clear a way through the foliage and stumble into a clearing full of grape vines and wild roses vibrant red with health.
In the clearing, lying upon a long slab of rock that overlooked a lovely spring of cool, clean water lay a man of almost feminine beauty, sparkling blue eyes holding sweaty Germany in their half lidded gaze. The being reclined, a rose in a hand trailing through the spring's clear water, naked as the day he had been born save for a bundle of roses that shielded his virtue. Slowly standing, the long limbs untangled, the mane of gold that sat above that fair face gleaming in the light of Italy's chariot. Struck dumb, brave Germany, saintly Germany, wise Germany could naught but stare at the gleaming being as it slunk towards him smiling widely:
"Ah you look tired, non? What brings you to my lonely little isle, mon coeur?"
Germany retreated; the fair faced, long limbed, creature with the alluring smile merely laughed and retracted the hand that had stroked upon the stricken mortal's cheek. And surely wise Germany realized that he was in the presence of a god, for no nymph or mortal was so fair. Brave Germany, saintly Germany, coughed to ease the thirst building in his throat and answered thus:
"Fair god of wine, of joyful worship, and ecstasy, of celebration and madness; oh fair god, the lovely France, the Great Ancient Rome has set upon me a quest to retrieve the sacred white flag of surrender that once belonged to the greatly beloved golden son of Mt. Roma, Italy, now stolen from beneath his very nose. I made the journey from my beloved homeland upon the direction of the bright-eyed goddess Hungary, who gave it unto me in generosity, to the Oracle of China, who bade me sail to the end of the world so I may traverse through the paths of the Underworld and reach the other side. Upon the vessel given me by great god England I sailed the waters with a crew of fine men, yet blown off course by a gentle West Wind were we and found ourselves stranded upon your shores. All my men were allured away by nymphs and I alone remained upon the ship, so here now I stand in search of my fellows."
So spoke Germany, brave warrior of the Gilbirdnauts, and to the tale did fair limbed France listen, closing the distance between the mortal and he, the god pulled the warrior close and so said:
"You say you have met young Italy have you? Ah, but he was here not so very long ago! Upon the behest of his father did darling Italy travel to my humble abode, for the Great Ancient Rome believed him ready to expand his boundaries! But the young ganymede was not so enamored of my efforts to expand his education and so disguised himself as the box of wine that was to be shipped from my island! But none of that, a quest you say? How very daring! It sounds full of danger, and such a beau as you should not be in danger, mas non! So tired were you, as you stumbled into my clearing, that you deserve a much needed rest. So stay here, mon chéri, for I have been lonely these past few years!"
No sooner had fair limbed France spoken, did Germany find his vital regions assaulted by an insistent hand. But Germany, Saintly German of virtue refused the advance and exclaimed:
"What are you doing?"
"Oh? Why, have you never felt the pleasure of flesh? Of the joys and decadence of wealthy living? I shall have that not! Upon myself I take it, to educate you!"
And so Germany, saintly Germany of intact virtue, found himself divested of all clothing until all that covered him were the tattered remnants of his clothing wrapped around his loins. Thus, brave Germany found himself struck dumb at the god's audaciousness, and fended off advances with the might of a single mortal arm against an immortal's might.
And to this tableau did dark haired Romano appear, for he had been sent by his godly father to retrieve a casket of wine for the inhabitants of Mt. Roma. But no sooner did he appear than Romano spied the hapless Germany pinned beneath a determined France's loving embrace, a single arm fending the onslaught of the immortal's greedy hands. So great was the dark haired Romano's mirth that the moon that evening trembled as it was pulled across the sky by Romano's silver chariot from the god's hearty laughter .
"Oh France, how low have you fallen. Are you so lonely that you are forced to keep this for company?"
And fair limbed France, face pressed away by Germany's insistent hand did respond, though his lovely voice was muffled by the press of the mortal's strong hand upon his cheek:
"If only your great Father, wise Ancient Rome, had not reduced me to this! What great sin did I commit that led me to be imprisoned upon this island paradise and banned from the great Roma Games? For surely to wish for joyful worship amidst the games is not too much to ask? Ah to be laid so low and reduced to only nymphs and satyrs for company!"
So lamented the fair limbed France, who with renewed vigor pushed aside great Germany's hand and using his immortal guile momentarily slipped past the Saintly Germany's defenses and squeezed the warrior's hidden backside in satisfaction. Saintly Germany, with tears in his eyes, gave a wordless shout.
"It is as you deserve, you potato bastard!" Proclaimed dark haired Romano. And dark haired Romano, silver son of Ancient Rome, departed from the isle with tears of mirth welling in his eyes for so immense was his laughter no one would receive a coherent word from him that evening. Fair limbed France, so cut off from all, overpowered the hapless warrior as the desperation of a denied god was stronger than that of a human warrior defending his pride. So strong was the god of ecstasy, for that was who he was for now, that brave Germany, heroic Germany of honor could think of only one way to halt the assault upon his virtue. Germany then called upon the gods for strength, for surely some still heard him, as he lifted one mighty leg with swift speed and kneed the unsuspecting god in the balls. With a cry of pain did France's embrace end, and so did Germany flee from that clearing of decadence. But France was immortal, his balls made of steel, and France recovered near immediately. So angered was the god that in his pain he called upon his followers, the lewd satyrs, and set them upon the fleeing Germany only moments after he had fled.
And so did Germany run, run in haste to the raucous, lusty calls of the goat men that pursued him, the heavy tromp of the hooves as they pounded through foliage constantly behind him. Flee did Germany, flee for his life and virtue. Through underbrush did the warrior run, past exotic trees that scratched and needled him as he flew past. Though of great strength, even among mortals, was Germany, the Isle of France was of immortal make and so the brave warrior could never reach the shores that held his ship. Ran, did Germany, ran he did, until his feet felt heavy, his body weary, and his breath exhaled in loud gasps that were only exceeded in sound by the heavy pounding of hoofed feet steadily gaining upon him. Desperation upon him, Germany thought to climb a tree, for perhaps the hooves of goats made for poor climbing, but then a hand descended upon his shoulder and his feet felt swift and light. And so, as Germany turned his weary head did he behold Austria, winged messenger of the gods whose winged sandals he now wore upon his own weary feet.
"Fly!" said the messenger of Mt. Roma, leader of souls to the underworld, "Run swiftly and fear not for exhaustion, for my winged sandals will carry you far beyond mortal comprehending."
Though thankful, Germany was well versed in the lore of immortals and so he felt forced to question,
"Swift Austria, messenger of Mt. Roma, leader of souls to the underworld, I thank you with the utmost gratitude for your assistance, but why do you assist me? I have no offering to give to you in thanks."
Swift Austria, he of the winged sandals, answered thus with a grimace upon his fair face:
"No thanks are needed as I do this to help you escape the clutches of France, that awful immortal. You are not the first to have met his desires, nor will you be the last. But suffice it to say that I will not stand by while he gropes another passerby."
No further words were needed and so did Germany pick up his feet and run, marveling at the swiftness of the messenger god's fabled sandals. Germany breezed past trees, ran so swiftly his feet barely touched the ground, the sounds of the Satyrs' hoofed feet falling far behind as he ran toward his ship with Austria beside him keeping the trees from whipping upon the mortal's head. No sooner than what seemed to be a moment had passed, and Brave Germany found himself upon his vessel, feeling no more winded than he would be from a heavy run. As he made to offer the winged sandals back to the god, swift Austria shook his head and the words he spoke followed as thus:
"Keep them. You may need them before the quest is done, and I have many more at my disposal."
And in regards to Germany's unvoiced desire to search for his companions the swift messenger said:
"In this you are to continue alone. Your companions are beyond your reach, for though the oracle told you to gather a crew, the journey must be completed by you alone. So to you I will tell how to find an entrance to where the dead live: sail 3 days and 3 nights towards the sun at its zenith and you will see a cave. Descend through and you will find the boatman. And with this I depart: I wish you the best of luck."
So saying, the great messenger of Mt. Rome, swift Austria, flew to the skies and departed for Mt. Roma, a journey that would take him many days for without his winged sandals the god himself, the great swift messenger god who led souls to the underworld, without his winged sandals had no sense of direction.
Notes:
(1) mon chéri = my dear/darling
(2) mon coeur = my sweet
(3) beau = handsome
(4) Roma Games = Hetalia Pantheon version of the Olympic Games
(5) And yes. What France means by the whole joyful worship thing is an orgy. He attempted to start an orgy (and knowing him, was nearly successful but the plot was probably foiled by America who wasn't reading the atmosphere or something and stumbled onto his plans.)
Also I don't know any french and had to rely on google for translations. Apologies if there was misuse of terms :)
Part 5 * Part 7