July 24, 2006
I wrote a Medium Story today!
I started the rough draft and I have so far done one edit on it. So far that’s about all my eyes can take and though there still may be some grammatical incorrectness left, I think I’ll post the story anyway.
This story was created December 2004 when I wrote about a page of ideas and a brief chapter planner and this afternoon I reviewed this material and wrote and edited this story between 2:30 and 6:20, so for less than four hours of work I don’t think it’s that bad but I now have a headache from all of the editing. My eyes have been bothering me lately and staring at the computer screen makes them feel worse.
But anyway, here is the story!
The story of a Hero
As written by Elizabeth Von Fange
Chapter One
In which we have The First Chapter
It was a pleasant evening, for persons who liked thunderstorms that is. Rain was coming down in torrents and every few minutes an explosion of thunder would seem to set the ground shaking.
Despite the unfavorable weather conditions Lord Cyril was still trying to finish his preparations for a journey that had to be started by the next morning at latest.
“The roads are nigh impassible, my lord” Sir Gavis, a weather worn knight said as he entered the spacious hall wherein Lord Cyril was attempting to decide which cheese would retain it’s flavor the longest.
“We’ll have to manage them none the less.” Lord Cyril said firmly. “As soon as the rain lets up it’s off we’ll be.”
Sir Gavis bowed, when Lord Cyril said something he said something. “There hasn’t been a night like this in a long time.” Sir Gavis said. He also was capable of saying something.
“No indeed, almost not since you found young Roger stranded in the duck pond. Where is the lad by the way?”
“Rubbing down my horse I think.” Sir Gavis said, “I pushed the poor beast rather hard on the last mile or so.’
“Any additional news from Lord Tyval?”
“No change in plans my lord. He still expects you to meet him tomorrow at Four O’clock sharp on the Camberton road where it crosses the greenway.”
“And knowing Lord Tyval he will be punctual to the minute.” Lord Cyril said with a sigh. Then, changing the subject, “I can’t quite make up my mind, Sir Gavis, which cheese do you think would retain it’s flavor the longest?”
“Why not bring both, my lord.” Roger, a young lad of
nineteen said as he entered the room.
“Excellent idea, lad!” Lord Cyril said, looking pleased. Roger, though he came from such an unceremonious place as the duck pond where he had mysteriously appeared with no explanation whatever on a stormy night eighteen years ago, was a great help to the aging lord. He was also an excellent swordsman and as brave as a very brave mouse, providing that the mouse in question was braver than a lion and was staring at one intently demanding to be made a part of the story, if only by comparison.
“Horses all ready, Roger?” Sir Gavis asked, as the lad had not been long about it.
“Aye, that they are.” Roger said. “Old Tompkins said his rheumatism was feeling better so the rain must be abating somewhat. We could be off soon.”
“Better wait until morning.” Sir Gavis counseled. “No reason to spend a wet night out on the moors instead of safely and snugly in the castle. Having ridden in this storm myself I want a good nights rest before going out in it again and once we’ve started it will seldom chance that we’ll be having a roof over our heads until the journey is done.”
This was wise and sound council. The sound part of it could not be doubted in the slightest for Sir Gavis’s voice was extensively able to produce great reverberations of sound-waves that could penetrate even the deafest of ears. The wisdom of the council was also not lost Lord Cyril who nodded.
“At dawn we ride.” he said. “We’ll bring both types of cheese.” and having completed the weighty matters of preparations Lord Cyril handed the reigns of command over to his steward who finished the reaming preparations with the aid of Roger.
Lord Cyril went to bed. Sir Gavis retired quite soon thereafter. Roger continued to stay up and make sure that every preparation for the morrow was quite well attended to and that all would in readiness by dawn.
He would have even saddled up the horses but they objected to the idea of standing fully saddled all of the night, so he didn’t.
Chapter Two
In which the Journey begins
The next morning dawned fair and bright for the storm had ceased about two thirty in the morning. At dawn there was a hurried breakfast and last minute details, of which there were few, thanks to Rogers’ supervision and forethought, were gone into and all mounted.
The air was chill and large murky puddles had nearly changed the face of the road into a stream but the horses plodded, or rather waded, along patiently.
The company setting out was small. Lord Cyril led the way with Sir Gavis on his right and Sir Tromly, another knight of his household, on his left. Roger followed behind next to Sam Walsham, the captain of the five men at arms Lord Cyril employed. Of the five men at arms four were going with him, the fifth being left behind to keep an eye on the castle, and his newly wed wife who had objected forcibly at the idea of his going.
As the other four men at arms rode down the sloshy road that morning they also were wishing that they could have the excuse of a wife to stay behind from that journey.
“A grim morn indeed.” the captain, who was married but
hadn’t considered it to be excuse enough for staying behind, commented to Roger.
“Perhaps.” Roger said cheerfully. He was glad to be off. “But it will get brighter as we go along.”
“And then it will get darker, much darker.” the captain said, shaking his head.
“Night follows every day but afterwards there is the morning.” Roger said. This was a fairly obvious statement but so had been the Captain’s.
“That wasn’t entirely what I meant, lad,” Captain Walsham said. “It’s not the night I speak of, it’s the knight!”
Roger looked at Captain Walsham, waiting for him to clarify himself.
“I mean, it’s the black knight whose castle were going to. They say storms ever brew about his castle and the sun no sooner pokes her beams into the vicinity than new black clouds come to shut her out. It’s a dark and dangerous way and nought but my lord’s command would cause me to journey thither.”
“It can’t be all that bad.” Roger, who with the exuberance of youth doubted all places of dire peril until they were thrust upon him, “Or else the Lord Cyril would not be leading us thither.”
At this moment conversation ceased for they arrived at a large river. It’s banks were swollen by recent rains. If the king had been there and the royal bank had been swollen as great the river the king would doubtless had been greatly pleased. But neither of these instances were the case.
“Our horses will never be able to swim that.” Sir Gavis said. The men at arms looked up, encouraged, and one actually began smiling instead of hanging his head like a sheep being led to the shearers.
“We won’t need to, all we need to to do is board the ferry and cross over.” Lord Cyril said simply.
“Excepting that the ferry is on the other side.” Sir Tromly pointed out.
“Why so it is!” Lord Cyril said, now observing the location of the ferry for the first time.
“Hallo!” Sir Gavis called across the river. There was no response, except for a large amount ducks, who had been quietly paddling along, deciding to quickly take flight and hasten away.
“Apparently the ferryman is isn’t over there.” Sir Gavis said, not unhappily.
“Now how are we to cross?” Lord Cyril said “If we aren’t at the meeting place by four Lord Tyval will doubtless ride off
without us.”
All four of the men at arms were smiling now. Captain Walsham quietly sat in his saddle and his position as captain forbade a smile from coming to his face.
Rogers turn it was now to be despondent. The castle of the black knight had sounded like a fascinating place to him and he longed to go there. He looked across the river at the ferry. He had often ridden the ferry before, and on several occasions the ferryman had let him steer the boat.
“I think I could swim to the other side.” Roger said.
Nobody doubted that he could, Roger being the sort of strong, courageous, and well trained lad who cold do just about any feet of valor. The men at arms stopped smiling the Captain of the guard shook his head just a little and even Sir Gavis couldn’t help wishing that Roger was just a little less of the heroic type.
“Excellent Roger!” Lord Cyril said, “maybe we’ll be in time to meet Lord Tyval yet.”
Roger dismounted. Just because everybody thought he could swim the river was no sure indication that he actually could but without thinking about this at all Roger plunged in.
Most persons would have removed their armor and swords first, but Roger did nothing of the sort. Perhaps it was due to his being found in a duck pond that Roger could swim excellently with his armor on or wit it it off or with a raging river’s pull to fight against or in the calmness of a pond.
Thus it was that he was quickly across the river and hastily untied the ferry boat and poled it across the river with great skill.
Lord Cyril led the others on to the ferry. Roger then poled it back across the raging river with ease and skill and after securing it to the moorings he remounted his horse and was ready to follow Lord Cyril’s lead onward!
Chapter Three
In which Roger again shows heroic tendencies
No further great adventure, beyond a few paltry wolves and the occasional ogre, served to break the monotony of their ride to the Camberton road where it crossed the greenway. They were riding on the greenway themselves and Lord Tyval would be coming up the Camberton road.
It was hard to tell the exact time without a clock but telling time by the position in the sun was no problem for the stout band of adventures.
The men at arms all looked anxiously at the sky, for the sun was drawing nigh unto four o’clock as they drew night unto the Camberton road. One of the horses stumbled over a rock, to protect the guilty I won’t say whose it was. Another seemed to be getting quite thirsty which, since the water on the road was beginning to dry up, was not easily quenched. The other horses seemed inclined to drag their feet.
Lord Cyril was beginning to get quite anxious. he, like Roger, did not want to miss out on the adventure. Roger was the most anxious of them all and his horse, by the way it seemed to tug at the reigns impatiently, was conveying his desire to be moving forward.
Four o’clock was nearly there and there was still no sign of the Camberton road when Roger quietly said, “Perhaps it would be as well, my lord, that I ride forward and inform Lord Tyval of your close proximity.”
“Excellent idea Roger!” Lord Cyril said, looking pleased. “Do that, we should be there ourselves shortly.”
Once again as Roger sped away he was stared at intently by seven men who all shook their heads sadly and thought that the fleeting chance of returning home was going just as fast in the opposite direction.
With resolute faces they spurred their horses forward and surprisingly the horses responded and went a pace much faster than it had seemed possible a few minutes ago. The horses were no more eager than their masters to arrive at the shadowy castle of the black knight but by silent agreement all decided not to postpone the inevitable but get it over with as soon as possible.
It was at five minutes until four that Roger arrived at the crossing of the Camberton road with the greenway. He sat still and erect in the saddle until, just at four o clock precisely, he saw Lord Tyval arrive with his knights and men at arms.
“Lord Cyril should be up presently, my lord.” Roger said respectfully.
“Ah, very good.” Lord Tyval said. “I am glad that things are going so well. We should be there ere night fall at this pace.”
His men at arms almost groaned. They too were not at all eager to arrive at the castle of the black knight.
Already, in the north west, they could see looming black clouds swirling slowly around a hidden peak. Somewhere up there was the castle of the black knight, ever shrouded in darkness. To be there before the day was over was not a pleasant thought for any there but Roger, and perhaps Lord Tyval who was a brave, courageous and often foolhardy young noble who, though always punctual, did not always achieve his purposes.
After a few minutes of waiting Lord Cyril rode up with his men. The men at arms exchanged sickly nods between each other and the whole party began riding again.
“The Earl of Lycount should be joining us when we reach the Kensington road.” Lord Tyval informed Lord Cyril. “He’ll be bringing the official documents commanding the black knight to surrender the crowns to us.”
“Not much good that’ll do.” Sir Gavis mumbled under his breath.
This was not the first time he’d said that. Roger shared his notion that the royal order might not have great effect on the black knight and that they would probably have to fight a desperate battle to regain possession of the crowns which the black knight had stolen two months before.
It had taken eight weeks of those two months for the royal parliament to decide the proper course of action to take but now the course of action had been decided on there had not been much time lost in putting that course of action into effect.
Even now Earl of Lycount was rapidly riding with the official papers and soon their path’s would intersect, though fortunately Lord Cyril and those journeying with him would stop before their path forcible intersected with the Earl of Lycount’s.
Chapter Four
In which the story begins to get spooky
It was about six o’clock when they encountered the Earl of Lycount. They had been waiting for him at the place where the Kensington road encountered the Camberton for about fifteen minutes, long enough for the men at arms to begin hoping that maybe he had already come and gone or maybe he was delayed or maybe… And then he was there.
Gloomily they sat eating roasted quails that Roger has shot and prepared. The quails were good, but the men at arms still didn’t think it was enough recompense for Roger’s getting them there on time.
After dinner they rode on again. Shadows deepened, but it was no the shadows of night, no it was the shadows of the knight.
If any spooky music was to be played now would be the time to for it to begin. Trees began looking withered. Grass became more and more sparse. The song of a bird did not break the stillness of the land. Grey mist seemed to be upon a the land and it thickened and blackened as they approached the dark mass of the castle.
“The very warmth of my blood seems chilled.” ran through the minds of nearly everybody there, Roger being an exception, but none of them ventured to say it aloud. No one wanted to be thought a coward. No one wanted to be the first to say something like, “Wouldn’t it be nice to turn back now?”
The captain of Lord Tyval’s bodyguard was so nervous that he felt he had to say something, just to make sure that he could still hear sound. As bravely as he could manage he said in defiance, “What is this darkness?”
The reply he got was, “It seems to be fog.” and no one else said anything for a long time.
At last it was so dark that they had to carefully pick their way in the inky blackness. Then, suddenly, lights sprang out of several places around them.
“What business brings you here?” a gruff voice said.
“We bring a message for the black knight.” the Earl of Lycount said bravely and boldly. Inside he was trembling, but having taken a course in speeches as well as one in drama at the academy for future Earls he was able to disguise quite well the fact that inwardly he was quaking.
“Very well, come this way.” whatever it was said. They followed. The other lights on each side kept up with them and though they couldn’t see anyone there they could hear the dull thudding of many feet.
It was no longer, “The very warmth of my blood seems chilled” that was in the minds of the men at arms, it was now actually happening to them. Cold chills seemed to come up out of the ground.
“It’s a rather cold day for spring.” Lord Cyril said calmly. As the cheese was packed in his horse’s saddle bags and as it usually got dark at night he was rather unconcerned about the darkness and the cold.
Roger also was not worried. Shadows couldn’t hurt one. lights sometimes could, for once he had stuck his hand into a torch and been burned, only slightly, but he no longer said that lights couldn’t harm one.
Slowly a deeper shadow came closer and at last they saw black stonework ahead. They approached slowly through a gate over which hung carved figures of black marble, at least the men at arms hoped they were carved figures of black marble for the ugly twisted serpentine shapes would have been truly horrifying if they were alive.
Once inside the gate the voice said, “Dismount here.” Roger swiftly dismounted. The others dismounted rather less swiftly.
In the courtyard there were more torches and they could see shadow figures standing there. The figures were large and almost man like in shape but it was hard to be sure.
Slowly everyone walked forward, following the torchlight that had led them thus far. They entered the castle. The fog stayed outside and they could now see that their guide was a clad in black armor which completely concealed him.
“Wait here while I announce you.” he said.
They waited. There was a slight sound of clatter that could be heard as one of the men at arms knees knocked together. What would happen next? None there knew.
Chapter Five
In which we find out what happens next
It was only a minute or two that they were allowed to stand thus. Their guide returned and said that the Black Knight would see them now.
They followed his torch and soon they came to a massive pair of doors, fast shut, on which were carved more dragon like figures of evil aspect than Roger had ever seen gathered together in one doorway before. But he was not long allowed to look at them for the massive doors swung open, and inside was The Black Knight!
Roger was now the only one of those who entered the room the room that still had a light heart.
“What is your message?” a thunderous voice boomed at them.
“His majesty King Maldon,” the Earl of Lycount said, trying to remember how to make a speech in that very oppressive atmosphere, “Bids you to give the crowns that you stole from him into my possession that I may bring them again back to his kingdom where they are needed for the twelfth annual polo pony review.”
This was not at all what the Earl of Lycount had meant to say. True, King Maldon did need his royal crown to wear to the twelfth annual polo pony review but there were many, many, more important reasons that the royal crowns were needed back.
“Tell him to wear a straw hat.” the Black Knight, quite impolitely, said with a cruel laugh. “I rather like the royal crowns and they are staying right here with me.” And with a motion of his hand he pointed out the crowns where they sat on black velvet cushions in his display case made of glass and black marble.
There was a pause. The Earl of Lycount couldn’t think of anything to say and as he had precedence nobody else was going to say anything even though if they did have precedence they probably couldn’t have thought about anything to say either.
“So you refuse to give up the royal crowns?” Lord Tyval, who felt that he had waited long enough, said emphatically.
“Yes,” the Black Knight said, “I thought I had made that clear but I suppose with one whose brain is as small as yours things must be stated quite plainly. ”
Lord Tyval did not like this insult. therefore he said, “I don’t like that insult.”
“So sorry,” the Black Knight said with a sneer, “If you weren’t so insignificant I would think of a better one. And now, as your business seems to be over, I think I shall feed you to my dragons.
The Black Knight was now, as far as Roger was concerned, a rather base and treacherous character for it was very impolite as well as ignoble to not offer refreshments to one’s guests and to offer them as refreshments to one’s dragons was a most unknightly thing to do.
Roger was rather surprised that the others did not do anything, but assuming that they must think the matter of dealing with such a reprobate beneath them Roger was about to stride forward and teach him some manners when a clanking noise was heard a great iron gate was opened and three huge dragons with great fangs and sharp claws entered.
Decided that the dragons were more of a pressing matter than the Black Knight Roger stepped towards them.
The men at arms, who had started shaking in terror at the thought of being devoured by a dragon and whose only hope was that they might at least cause the dragon to have indigestion, suddenly felt just a little better as Roger strode forward with his sword drawn. It was not always bad to have an overachieving hero with one after all.
The battle lasted a very short time. Roger thoroughly trounced the dragons/ The men at arms, and the others, all felt much better a the thought of not being eaten by those dragons at least.
The Black Knight was now the one who was not pleased. He made a sign, a large red pentagonal one with white lettering, and waved it in the air so that another door opened and out charged several monsters.
Roger, who had no trouble whatsoever with the dragons now turned to face the monsters. They were hideously ugly but that didn’t phase Roger at all. He rapidly wielded his excellent blade and soon the monsters were dead as coffin nails if not deader.
The black knight began contemplating what would fight Roger next and as he was contemplating Roger made up his own mind and approached the Black Knight.
This wasn’t what anyone else present would have chosen to do. Most of those present would have chosen to, while they were still alive, run quickly from the abode of the Black Knight, but not Roger. They had come for the crowns and he was not leaving without them.
Around the Black Knight’s neck was a chain on which hung a large key which, since it had the same sort of decorations as the lock on the display case, Roger assumed that it would probably open up the display case so one could access the crowns.
The black knight drew his sword and stood up. Seven foot eight he towered over Roger, who was only six foot seven, and met his charge with a thrust of his sword blade.
An altercation ensued during which the black knight got the worst of it. Roger, was quite intent on getting the key and being the sort of person, as has already been mentioned, who usually succeeds in whatever he sets out to do it only took him about fifteen minutes before the Black Knight sank to the ground in front of his throne with a tremendous headache and Roger took the key and unlocked the door to the display case.
Taking the crowns he presented them to the Earl of Lycount, who was quite pleased. He wanted to make a speech but the only speech he could remember at the time was the speech that Mark Anthony gave at Caesar’s burial and that didn’t seem to quite fit the occasion.
Their guide, who had observed what had happened, now hastened to lead them out again the way they had come.
The darkness seemed less dark as they walked out into the
courtyard and remounted their horses. Though the sun was setting a few rays managed to penetrate the darkness that was lifting.
“Well, how about camping and having some cheese and crackers?” Lord Cyril suggested. His suggestion was not voted down.
Chapter Six
In which a beautiful and charming princess might possibly make an appearance since it’s about time for that to happen
Roger rode quite proudly on his horse he next morning. The sun was shining brightly and he was on his way to the capitol with the others. He’d never been the capitol of the kingdom before and he was looking forward indeed to his first glimpse of it all, and he was also looking forward to seeing the inside of the royal palace for it was thither that they were bound with the royal crowns.
Lord Cyril carried one of them, and Lord Tyval held the other. Lord Cyril had been told that under no circumstances was to eat anything while holding the crowns as cracker crumbs would not at all have enhanced the glories of the queen’s crown.
They rode at a brisk pace for riding to the capitol insured that the horses went at a fast, pleasant, pace and that the men on them tired far slower than when riding towards places like the castle of the Black Knight. The men at arms had now quite forgiven Roger for his being there for since the mission had been successful they would now be heralded as heroes and perhaps some fair young maiden might smile upon them and enable them to have an excuse to stay behind the next time.
There were many fair maidens in the capitol. The fairest of them all, as Roger instantly decided as soon as he saw her, was the fair Princess Marigold from the next kingdom who was currently visiting and was seated on a lovely throne covered in lilies near the thrones on which the king and queen sat.
The Earl of Lycount, now quite recovered and remembering his entire course on speeches quite clearly, made a grand speech which lasted for over forty-five minutes at the end of which he presented the crowns back to the king and queen and then went on for another thirty minutes congratulating them on their return and mentioning several other things.
It was during this time that Roger, standing quiet and respectfully behind Lord Cyril was given ample opportunity to gaze upon the fair Princess Marigold and fall hopelessly in love with her.
The fair princess Marigold, on the other hand, had ample time to look the lilies on her throne, preen her hair just a little while gazing at a small hand mirror, stare intently at the ceiling, roll her eyes at the long winded speech maker, sample several chocolates, and once her attention was no longer to be gained by these distraction she looked over the company of those who had brought back the crowns. It was then that she noticed Roger and it was then about the time that the crowns were finally handed to the king and queen who put them on while the Earl of Lycount went on for another thirty minutes.
It was in those thirty minutes that the fair Princess Marigold had ample time to look at Roger and decided that he was very handsome and to once again sighed over the fact that she was engaged to some one else. This begin the case, though Roger certainly didn’t know about it, she did not gaze at Roger quite as much as she would have done so were she as unattached as she was wishing that she was. Roger was quite handsome, even for a hero.
At last the Earl of Lycount ended his speech. The King made a very short speech, only about twenty minutes long, and commended everybody. Then he asked who it was that had slain the ferocious dragons that the Earl of Lycount had mentioned.
At this Roger was introduced. He stepped forward and the king, when he noticed him for unlike the Princess Marigold the king had not been looking around the room for he felt that it was one’s royal duty when someone was making a speech to actually look at the person who was making that speech whether the speech was interesting or not.
The reason for his surprise was the striking resemblance between Roger and somebody else, somebody who the king was not quite sure who it was but was quite certain that Roger looked like him.
“A most gallant battle it seems that you have won, young man.” the king said kindly, “Might I inquire your name and lineage.”
“My name is Roger,” Roger said, for once wishing that he could get off the situation he was in for to mention before the fair Princess Marigold that all of his lineage was that he was found in a duck pond would probably not impress her favorably. “And I know not who I am really for I was found on a stormy night eighteen years ago in a duck pond.”
“You were found in a duck pond!” the Queen said and she became very excited.
“That’s who you must remind me of.” the king said aloud.
Roger was rather confused by this, as much as a heroic hero ever gets confused which isn’t that much.
“Tell me,” the Queen said, “Where you wearing anything of note when you were found?”
“This pendant on this chain.” Roger said, taking them out and wondering if at last his origins were to be identified and he was to have some sort of lineage other than being found in a duck pond.
“That’s it!” the Queen said and was silent.
“Who am I then?” Roger asked, as it seemed to be now decided.
“My long lost son, Prince Marcus!” King Maldon said, looking quite pleased for he now could see traces of his own features and those of his wife’s in the handsome face turned towards his.
Princess Marigold’s reaction to this announcement was one of great pleasure, for it just so happened that shortly after her birth an engagement had been formed between her and Prince Marcus and despite Prince Marcus being lost shortly thereafter their engagement had not been broken off and the Fair Princess Marigold was quite pleased to finally see that she was engaged to a very handsome and heroic young man who really did exist and that she was not going to grow up to be an old maid after all.
Chapter Seven
In which the story ends
There was great jubilee in the royal palace that day for the return of the royal crowns of and of the royal heir certainly merited a large celebration.
Prince Marcus, for so Roger was now called, was quite pleased to find that he had such noble lineage, and even more pleased to find out that eh was already engaged to the the beautiful princess he had fallen in love with.
He hoped that she was not averse to this engagement and after speaking with her alone for a few minutes during the course of the evening he found that she was not averse to the engagement and was herself quite glad to find out that he wasn’t averse to it either.
Indeed, any girl probably would have been quite pleased at hearing herself described as the fairest of the fair and lots of other things that Prince Marcus said to her were phrased oh so perfectly and in the correct tones. Heroes like Prince Marcus generally can court just as well as they can slay dragons and Prince Marcus was no exception.
Very soon there was a royal wedding and Prince Marcus and Princess Marigold were married and they lived happily ever after, as did just about everybody else, and having now written the very shortest chapter of this book I am going to end it feeling that it is indeed sufficient accomplishment for one days writing.
THE END!!!
