Ursa Major

It is said that the fairy Morgan roams the woods. She seduces the most valiant knights of the Round Table and keeps them imprisoned in her Valley of No Return until the end of time and under the rule of her Highness. And last night, she summoned me with great solemnity.

Dreaming is supposed to be her formal way of summoning knights to her castle. Gawain the Englishman told me about it. And about a strange statue of a gentleman made of birch. It should lie by her bed and on a Great She-Bear skin. I can still see him lost in his own thoughts, coming closer to me without seeming to. There was something increasingly physical about his manner. He told me the whole story as if he were reading a magic formula from an ancient grimoire. As though he were stating superior truths.

“As the clear night falls through the castle’s windows, the statue takes on the features of the coveted knight. This is the Oracle, the ritual sign for the lecherous fairy to rise from her sleep. She walks on the Great She-Bear’s skin and rubs herself against the oracle. The fur, deep as darkness, climbs up her leg, penetrates her crotch, crawls up to her buttock and takes possession of her. She will once again be transformed into the epitome of a hairy beast. The fairy Morgan wraps her thighs around the birch statue, pulls herself up and locks him onto her, letting her voice sink low and deep into her throat. The cream-colored wood creaks in the blue light as she hugs him tighter. Her lust drives her wild and she fornicates like an animal. Writhing, oozing musk, growling like a big bad bruin. (Gawain the Englishman, at this point in the story, looked at me as if he were about to say something very serious and that I absolutely had to hear it.) And if, at the very moment she is gloating, you dream of spreading your legs and giving yourself to her, then your alliance is complete. You will never be able to turn away from her again: you will have been solemnly summoned.”

At the time, I thought he was coming out to me. But not really. Instinctively I turned my gaze down to his zip. It was the most ignominious thing ever, like the Dark Side of the Force reincarnated as an arsehole. Gawain the Englishman must have been gay. But not quite either. He was a “perhaps” à l’anglaise. Anyway, what worries me most is this: Years ago he told me what I dreamt last night. So I don’t know. Was I really summoned by that crazy furry fairy who chases brave knights through the woods? Or was it just the memory of Gawain’s words in my subconscious mind? It is a mystery to me. Because no matter what, I was the one who dreamed of her, with her blue light and her frenzy and her musk. Well, “her”, if I may venture a guess. Over the last couple of years I may have had a wanker or two at the thought of this sequence. Diving into her fur, feeling the stiffness of her shaft lifting the softness of my balls. Can this be true?

I decide to confide in Guinevere, my secret lover. Something deep inside tells me I shouldn’t. Queen is pure water. And yet, here I am. After all, since she’s bedding with her husband, the King, I’m entitled to a little escapade of my own. Am I not Lancelot, the greatest knight of the Round Table?

I find her sitting comfortably on her throne, busy with her reign. I tell her about the case, the fairy, the Englishman, the dream, imploring her good advice. Oh! I am such a naive knight… She answers “All of it?

— (Lowering my voice) All of what?

— Do you know the legend? Do you know what it means?”

It is also said of the fairy Morgan that a trunk of remarkable size grew out of her humus, first like a sprout, then like a shining sword straight from its sheath. The virile attribute would have appeared ex deus machina, in the after math of a romantic disappointment. She then promised to punish any unfaithful man with her special device and keep him in her Valley of No Return until the end of time. Guinevere adds in a bitter tone: “It is also rumored that the fairy has chosen a most clever method of summoning. Only those who can dream of her may dream of her.”

Now, what is this supposed to mean? Is she talking to me? Is she really talking to me? I am stunned, but as time never stands still, she finally decides to pack it in once and for all. “After all, she grumbles, if that’s what you want, you can go get fucked by the most beautiful big fairy carne in the whole world.”

With that, she turns on her heel. It leaves a terrible aftertaste in my dry mouth. The Queen has just called me a little faggot, at the very least. I am standing there in a kind of daze, and still. I guess I’ll just have to go for a walk and talk to the forest, as I’m so fond of doing when things go wrong. This is the way it is even for the most valiant of knights.

I walk for a long time through the pines and spruces, up the hills and down the valleys, hoping to see something happening out there, further away. My mind wanders along the sylvan paths. I keep trying to picture Morgan. She must be beautiful, not princess-like, but goddess-like. Even if the legend about what was supposed to be hanging between her legs was true, I still like to think of her as full of grace and beauty. Who knows where the Valley of No Return is supposed to be? It could be on another planet or deep in these woods, it wouldn’t make a big difference. She’ll stare at me, her eyes will twinkle slightly and lock with mine, and I’ll have to submit. I will be under her spell. If I allow myself to think like that, it could be for a reason. And she will have already guessed it. After all, it is I who have been summoned. The day is slowly coming to an end. I must move on. Farther and farther. I feel so much more welcome in my fantasy bubble than anywhere else. I don’t want to break it and go back to the real world again. I want to dive into her, into Morgan, and I want her to dive into me as well. But what on earth am I doing, dreaming about all this? Calm, calm, calm. Cool down. After all, as long as I keep going, I can fantasize about anything, sheltered by the forest and in the midst of nature. Anything goes.

Still, I think it’s odd that I went to see my secret lover only to ask her to advise me on a strange, dicky creature I may very well be getting involved with! Why? It was like asking her permission to fuck myself in the woods. How strange! A boy is certainly not in his normal state of mind when he has just been solemnly summoned by the Great She-Bear.

To let it go. That’s why I went to see Her Majesty the Queen: to tell her I wanted to break free. And she made me pay for it. I’m supposed to be a valiant knight, but I suppose I’m getting a bit tired of this. For once in a lifetime...

And what about the stiff shaft of Her Fairy’s manhood? What about what? Oh, my old Lancelot, confess! Morgan, though I still pretend I don’t know why, is right there in your mind, waving her tail in my face through the haze of my anxious reverie. I know it’s there, her cock, I know the beast exists. But I try not to think about it too much. In fact, I think about it all the time. Gorgeous and dicky. Fuck that’s weird!

At the turn of the river, at the hour when the sun rushes between the trees, at the hour when one should think to go back home, at the golden hour, I climb to this ridge, moved by an irrepressible urge. I have a premonition that I have arrived, God knows how, in the Valley of No Return.

Gossips

Guinevere: I think you liked it when I told you to go get fucked yourself.

Lancelot: Look my dear Guinevere, I’ve been summoned by the Great She-Bear, just like the excellent Gawain.

Guinevere: Oh yes, you mean the cream-coloured birch and the dark climbing fur thing!

Lancelot: How do you know that?

Guinevere: I read the story, as we all did! We’re famous now.

Lancelot: Remember who I am, Lancelot, Knight of the Round Table.

Guinevere: I do! I do! I do remember that the brave knights are very fond of this.

Lancelot: It was a dream, my dear Guinevere, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.

Guinevere: Mmm, you’re quick to conclude that you’ve been summoned!

Lancelot (Sulking): …

Guinevere: I think you’d like to be punished by her, yeah, yeah, yeah, Lancelot.

Lancelot: And by whom?

Guinevere: Oh, please! You know: by the ex deus machina outstanding carne herself.

Lancelot: Don’t get me wrong! I just like to go for a walk in the woods. It gives me a chance to relax. That’s all.

Guinevere: When you walk alone in the woods, all by yourself, mmm mmm, lost in your thoughts, do you pray for the Great She-Bear to jump on you and stick her Ex Deus Machina somewhere up your bum?

Lancelot (to you, reader): Pssst! Do you want to know a secret? I think I just long for someone to look after me.

Guinevere (to you again, reader): Mmm, big guys! They’re all the same! In the next chapter, the fairy Morgan brings Lancelot to her castle. Will they find a way to lie down on this Great She-Bear’s fur? If you’re in the thick of the dark night (or not), go to the next chapter find out... (soon available, on the 30th of April.)