It was the summer of 1683 when Jean Riel arrived in Lachine. His long journey from Limrik, Ireland to New France had finally concluded.

The son of a French soldier and an innocent Irish maid he had stayed in Ireland after his father returned to France. He lived with his mother in Limrik until the age of sixteen when he travelled to find his father, with no success, and enlisted in the French Army. He was home visiting his mother on annual leave when word came that he was being re-assigned to the Compagnies Franches de la Marine - the French Marine Corps - and heading for New France.

Upon arrival, he was assigned as an intermediary between the Troupes de la Marine and the local indigenous population. Being fluent in both French and English and having the ability to learn new languages quickly, he was sent from Montreal to Lachine to assist as translator. He was tasked with finding the locations of the Iroquois warriors that were attacking the settlements.

Over the course of the following years, he began to love the rough wilderness of New France and the ideals of the local people. The Huron, Algonquin, and Ojibwa peoples were all very friendly and respectful. They talked freely with him, allowing him to source information that was both useful and interesting. He spent more time in their villages than he did at his post.

In one such Ojibwa village, he happened to be present for, and invited to, a ceremony. As most ceremonies were private and outsiders were not allowed he viewed his invitation as a great privilege. He ensured his dress uniform was perfect before attending.

Upon arrival, he was greeted by a young Obijwa woman named Nashiime. They had spoken before and were familiar with each other. She had been tasked with explaining the ceremony to the guest as he watched from a short distance. He was not allowed within the outer circle of the people in attendance.

Nashiime showed him to their viewing place, a small raised outcropping on the edge of the clearing, and asked to him sit. He did as asked and they sat together in silence waiting for the ceremony to begin. They could see the large circle of people on the edge of the village and had an excellent view of the smaller drum circle within. He struggled to not look at the beautiful young woman next to him.

Nashiime was almost as tall as he was, with long black hair and a slim figure. She always wore a dress of soft brown hide and leather slippers or moccasins, and she seemed to glide in a graceful manner wherever she went. Her thins lips and high cheekbones were in perfect contrast to her large doe-like eyes. Whenever she looked at him he could almost feel the softness in her eyes touching him.

She caught him glancing at her and gave a slight smile. Nashiime was intrigued by this light-skinned man who spoke many languages. She had been nervous about speaking with him the first time they met, but his gentle and respectful manner had put her at ease. She now found it comfortable to be with him and enjoyed their conversations. The fact that she found him handsome made it even easier.

The ceremony began with light chanting and the sounds of faint drumming. Jean had heard the drums before, but not like this. The drumming had been war drums, loud and aggressive while this was soft, gentle and rhythmic.

"They are going to bless a new drum," Nashiimi began. "A drum may not be played until it is blessed."

There was a drum in the middle of the circle of people, what looked like a hollowed out log with hide stretched across the opening. It was larger than the other drums he could see and appeared to have twine or vines wrapped around the diameter.

"The drum is the heartbeat of our Mother, our connection to where we live. It is to be respected, and we thank the tree that gave us the wood and the animal that gave its hide for its creation."

Jean was impressed with the way they treated nature and revered it, living with what it supplied and respecting it. Unlike what he had seen before coming to this new wilderness.

"Drums are like our people, they are all different with different sounds and purpose. Each drum is special in its own way."

As the ceremony progressed he paid attention to the different sounds he could hear. Some were deep and reverberating, some faint and some loud. He noticed a few that were small, with hide on both sides, and that they were shaken like a tambourine. The music they made was beautiful and entrancing.

"The drum is now blessed," Nashiimi announced. "The elder will now play his new drum and we learn the song it sings."

The drumming continued for some time, and soon some of the men began dancing within the circle. Jean watched in awe of the spectacle, impressed with both the sound and the movement.

"Come, I will show you something," Nashiimi said as she took his hand.

Jean froze for a moment at her touch, unsure and excited at the same time.

"Come," she beckoned. "It is good."

He stood up and she led him along a thin trail in the trees and brush, stopping when they reached a small opening on the bank of the creek. Nashiimi kneeled down on the grassy edge and gestured for him to do the same. He did.

"The drum came from the other side of the water," she said as she pointed across the creek. "It is a special place, with many trees, birds, and animals. We will watch the sun go behind it."

Jean sat quietly next to Nashiimi as the sunlight slowly disappeared and the now-reddish ball slipped behind the trees. There was a reddish-pink hue to the sky as the darkness approached. He felt Nashiimi's hand on his and turned to see her smiling at him.

"So beautiful," he whispered.

"Yes, the sun makes the sky pretty."

"I meant you," Jean said. "You are so beautiful."

Nashiimi didn't look away. Her soft dark eyes looked deep into his as she squeezed his hand. Jean reached his other hand up and stroked her cheek, finally feeling the softness of her skin. She smiled and then did the same to him.

"We should go," Jean suggested. "Someone will look for you."

"No, it is good," she replied. "We have all night, do not worry."

He couldn't stop himself from kissing her. Their lips touched gently at first, tentative and light, but quickly became much more. They embraced and laid down together, arms wrapped around each other as they kissed deeply. Nashiimi began to tug at his clothes, pulling his shirt from his pants and yanking on the belt buckle as he freed his hands from her. Soon his jacket, shirt, and pants were strewn aside and she pushed him onto his back.

Her hands grasped his erect cock as she lifted her dress and straddled him. She moved herself onto him, the swollen tip pushing into her slowly. She moved her hips and slowly took him in, her hands on his chest as she sat upright and controlled the motions. Soon she was moving up and down slightly, rocking back and forth as the full length of his thick cock became comfortable.

He reached up and took her breasts in his hands, gently kneading them as she rode him. Her long hair almost reached his face when she leaned forward and touched his legs when she leaned back. Soon the pace quickened and Jean knew he could not wait.

"I... I..." he gasped.

"I know," she replied. "It is time for us."

Jean erupted inside of her as she sat down on him fully and stopped moving. With a slight moan and a shiver she fell forward onto his chest as he continued to fill her and thrusted wildly as he emptied. She lay with her head on his chest, unmoving and her breathing became slower. Jean felt himself wither and slip out, a sudden wetness on his groin. He wrapped his arms around her and the two drifted off into a sated sleep.

He was woken up by the feeling of kisses on his face. Nashiimi had rolled onto her side, one leg draped over his torso, and gently kissed him again. He felt her hand tracing along his stomach and toward his crotch.

His cock hardened at her touch and he was suddenly aroused with lust. He moved his hand between her legs and she parted them willingly. His fingers became wet as he fondled her, the heat coming from her intensified at his touch.

She rolled onto her back, spread her legs, and invited him inside. They kept their lips on each other as they slowly fucked, light moans and groans piercing the quiet of the forest.

Her legs wrapped around his waist and held him tight as they reached climax together, each absorbing the experience of the other.

Jean lay his head on her chest as he caught his breath and felt her fingers caressing his dark hair.

"That will be our drum song," Nashiimi said softly.

Jean moved up and kissed her gently.

"Yes, Nashiimi, forever our song," he agreed.

They lay together for a short time before agreeing it was best to return to the village. Nashiimi washed up in the creek as Jean dressed, both of them smiling in the moonlight. They kissed quickly and Nashiimi led him down the trail.

They had only gone a few steps when Jean stepped on a tree root, rolled his ankle, and crashed down on his right knee. He yelped in pain, rolled onto his left side, and grabbed his knee. His fingers were getting wet with the warm blood pouring from the gash below his kneecap.

Nashiimi came to his aide and found the bleeding wound. She went to the creek and returned with a handful of wet moss, packed it on the wound, and told Jean to keep it there.

She disappeared down the trail and returned shortly with her two brothers. Makwah and Myeengun looked at each other and then at Nashiimi.

"That is the special place," Makwah said as he pointed to the creek.

Nishiimi nodded.

"I think you are our brother now," Makwah said as he looked at Jean's leg. "We will help you to our home."

The two young men pulled Jean up and supported him as they made their way back to the village.

"Why is he our brother now?" Myeegun asked his older brother.

"I will tell you later," Makwah said with a chuckle.

"I thank you," Jean grunted. "For helping me."

"We will always help you, brother," Makwah replied.

"Yes," Myeegun added. "If you are our brother we will always help."

They stopped in front of the teepee that was home to Nashiimi and their mother. The two men gently lowered Jean to the ground by the entrance.

"If you want him inside you must talk to our mother," Makwah said to Nashiimi. "It is her permission you need, not mine."

He turned and walked away, his younger brother asking him to explain as they departed.

Nashiimi disappeared into the teepee and came back out with her mother. The two went to another teepee and returned with an elderly woman.

The elderly woman looked at Jean and patted Nashiimi on the shoulder.

"He is good," she announced. "He is welcome."

Nashiimi and her mother helped Jean inside and made him lay on the floor as they removed his pants. His wound was cleaned and a salve was applied as Jean sucked in a deep breath and absorbed the searing pain in silence.

Once done he was wrapped in a heavy blanket and had a fur pillow put under his head. He slept.

Jean woke to find Nashiimi sleeping on the floor next to him. He tried to move and felt a jolt of pain in his knee, reminding him of what had happened.

Nashiimi asked him if he was good. He pulled the blanket away and could see his swollen knee, three times its normal size. It was very tender but not hot to the touch, a good sign.

Nashiimi's mother watched as her daughter tended to the wound, a slight smile on her face as she watched the gentle interaction between the young couple.

"You are now my son," she announced. "Nashiimi has told me. Grandmother agrees."

"Thank you," Jean replied.

"Rest," she instructed.

Jean realized what day it was and asked Nashiimi to get one of the other two soldiers to come see him. She returned with both and Jean showed them his injury.

He instructed them to retrieve his notebooks from his tent and ensure that they were taken to Lachine.

"It is two days traveling to Lachine, which I cannot do, and the reports are due. You need to get the reports there and explain my delay. I will follow as soon as possible."

The two soldiers left the teepee and Nashiimi looked at Jean.

"Yes, I will have to leave," he explained. "Not for long, I will be back before the next full moon."

Nashiimi nodded and gave him a smile.

"You cannot leave now," she giggled.

"No, I cannot," Jean replied with a grin.

On the fourth day after his injury, Jean was asked to meet with an elder. He limped his way slowly to the large teepee and was ushered inside by one of the young men of the village. He took a seat, his leg stiff and throbbing in pain.

The elder informed him that word had come of an attack on Lachine by a group of Iroquois warriors, that many were killed and some taken. The soldiers were now looking for them and many more soldiers were now to come.

Jean thanked him for his time and the information before limping back to the teepee. He sat down and told Nashiimi and her mother what he was told.

He took Nashiimi by the hands and looked into her eyes.

"If you had not taken me to see the special place I would have been in Lachine. I would not have injured my leg and had to stay."

"Our Mother put that tree root there for you to step on," Nashiimi's mother announced. "She knows you will respect her and my Nashiimi. Our Mother takes care of us."

Nashiimi and Jean nodded in agreement.

Three days later the soldiers appeared and Jean was informed of what was happening. The Iroquois warriors had seemingly disappeared and his assistance was required. Due to his injury, it was agreed that he would not be able to travel and he was allowed to stay.

Two weeks later Jean made the journey to Lachine and reported for duty. After visiting with the doctor and talking with the Officer-in-charge he was assigned to the barracks until further notice.

The following day he was issued a discharge as his injury would prevent him from performing his full duties as a member of the Toure de la Marines.

He traveled back to the village and informed Nashiimi of what happened and that he was now free to stay with her. Shortly after they were married.

Jean was hired by the Hudson Bay Company to run the trading post in Lachine, his language skills and experience proving useful. In time he was moved closer to Montreal, where he and Nashiimi raised thier three children.

In time multiple generations, descendants of this young couple, would raise families in Quebec, Ontario, Manitoba, and Saskatchewan.

All due to a French soldier and an Ojibwa maiden sharing a Drum Song.