Knight in Rusty Armor
Author's Note: I do indeed read every word that is written in the comments of my stories, and take them to heart. I thank you all for your interest and support, and hope to provide you with works of interest in times to come.
KNIGHT IN RUSTY ARMOR
by Gideon Kalve Jarvis
"Why do I have to get eaten?" whined Prince Lowhill.
"You won't get eaten," lied his father, the King of Lowhill in a reassuring tone. "You'll just have a few of the minor difficulties that all knights have, before finally conquering and then riding home in triumph."
"But father, I can't ride any better than I can fight, and I'm a miserable swordsman. And still worse with other weapons. And besides, what kind of difficulties do you mean?"
"Difficulties like this," said the King, slapping the brown mare on the rump. This sent her off in the general direction of Lowhill Town at a fair speed, nearly making Prince Lowhill, a poor rider under the best of circumstances, fall off. Fortunately for him, he had had the good foresight to bolt his boots to the stirrups. How he was supposed to get his boots back he hadn't thought of yet, but he decided to cross that bridge when he came to it.
After what seemed several hours of bone?jarring travel on his surprisingly noble?looking steed (surprising because he was, in fact, quite unnoble in appearance) he noticed, through the small slit of his helmet, that there was a crowd in front of him. They looked like peasants.
"Halt, Sir Knight," said a gruff male voice. The Prince, not being stupid, halted. He knew better than to argue with a man who looked like he could arm?wrestle a giant, and probably win.
"You're here to fight the Dragon and save the fair maiden it abducted, right?" rumbled the man. The Prince quickly agreed, not wanting to upset anyone who had more weight without armor than he did in a full suit. "Well, you had better just turn around and go back. We had two others try it this morning, and," he threw a small lump of slag metal on the ground in front of the nervous Prince, "They didn't have much luck."
"Okay," said the Prince, who was not an idiot, and turned his horse around.
"Now hold up a minute here," growled the huge man, grabbing the reigns.
"You wanted me to leave, so I'm leaving," said the Prince in a matter of fact tone.
"You can't," said the man, "because I just recognized the heraldry on your shield."
Oh, great slobbering toad warts, thought the Prince to himself. I had hoped they wouldn't notice.
"It just so happens that you are the Prince of this mighty kingdom," said the man, indicating the hamlet of Lowhill with one oversized arm, "And as the Prince it is your duty to defend your kingdom from all threats, despite danger to your person."
Why couldn't the Princess do this, thought the Prince. She has more muscles than me.
"Okay," said the duty?bound Prince, not wanting to disagree with anyone who could pick him up in full armor without even blinking, as the large man appeared quite willing to do in order to get him to fight the dragon. Or maybe this guy, continued the Prince's thoughts. He looks like he could do whatever he wanted.
"What's your name, Prince?" asked a tall, thin man who was scribbling in a notebook while looking over the Prince with great care. His voice was a quiet rasp.
"Jeorginifus," said the Prince.
"Hmm, and what is your horse's name?" continued the thin man.
"Warren," said Jeorginifus.
"Hmm, thank you," muttered the man as he wrote it down, and then wandered off towards a building on the outskirts of the hamlet. A sign hung in front of the building, shaped like an oblong black box. On the sign were the words "Johannus Luftman, Undertaker," in stark white letters.
"Well, George," guffawed the big man with a sudden burst of good humor, "you better just follow us. No decent knight ever attacks in the evening," and he laughed. The other peasants laughed with him, since they were not stupid.
Ugh, thought George. I think being eaten by a dragon might be funnier than that. But he laughed right along with the villagers, since he wasn't that slow himself. It was better than offending him. That might be even more painful than the stupid jokes. Maybe.
"I'm Bror," said the big man, still chuckling at himself, "Bror Jackson, and you can stay in my barn for the night, Knight," and he began to laugh again. The peasants and George laughed right along.
George could tell that he was going to have a long night.
"Two hours of sleep, Warren," moaned Jeorginifus to his long?suffering mare. "Just two measly hours of sleep. That maniac has got to have the worst addiction to checkers that I have ever seen."
It was true. When Jeorginifus had just finished making Warren comfortable, and had begun to settle himself down in the straw of the smelly barn, Bror had come in, his bellowing laughter and loud footsteps almost making the entire building shift on its foundations.
"Saw the lamp on and thought I'd see if you could play a bit of checkers with me," roared the big man. George quickly agreed. After the eighth game Bror stopped talking about his own little adventures and problems and began to ask questions, most of them embarrassing. The tired Prince fielded most of them rather well with short and disarming answers, but then the burly farmer asked a tough one:
"Say, how did your mare ever get a name like Warren, George? It's not that I don't like it, but isn't Warren a boy's name?"
Jeorginifus sighed.
"It's a long story," he said simply, half?heartedly wishing Bror would change the subject. He didn't.
"Well, the night's still young, young knight," they both laughed again, "so you may as well give me all the details."
George didn't have much choice.
"Now, you have quite a pair of mares here, Highness," said the nimble little man.
"Thank you," said King Lowhill with all the royal gravity he had. He had decided not to trust the little man, for he was well aware that both of his mares were anything but pleasing to the eye. "But what, pray tell, is your business here?"
"Well Highness, my name's Honest Ernest, and I offer the finest in used wagons you'll ever find anywhere in the world, "said the little man with the flourish of a practiced showman. "If it's got wheels and a few more miles left, I've got her for sale right here."
"We have little need for a cart in a castle only thirty feet square," answered the King, smiling the tiniest amount as he considered his tiny residence.
"Oh I know, Your Highness, I know. But I wasn't offering to sell you a wagon, just telling you what I normally deal in. Right now, as you can see, I haven't got anything on wheels to sell," the salesman gestured broadly to the nearly empty space behind himself. Nearly empty. For behind him was a tall horse, looking like something out of a fairy tale with it's almost glowing chestnut?brown coat and long, flowing mane and tail. "I was walking along the road when I noticed you had two mares and no stallions, which was quite a shame. As soon as I saw that I said to myself: 'Ernest, you just have to make these poor folks a deal.' So I decided to offer you the chance to have a prize?winning stallion, at only one?hundred?fifty crowns."
The King shook his head, an annoyed look on his face, and was about to turn the offer down (though it was a fair price for a well?trained horse in good condition, if it had a pedigree at least as big as the King's castle) when Margie, his young daughter, walked up behind him and squealed in delight. Rushing over to the big horse, she stared up at it in awe and wonder. Seeing her, the horse bent it's head condescendingly to the tiny human, and the young Princess began to pat it's nose, overjoyed at getting to touch such a magnificent creature. Ernest smiled a little.
"Also, he's great with children."
King Lowhill's face contorted in annoyance at what was obviously an emotional trap, but when his daughter looked at him with her big, pleading eyes, he was sold. And soon so was the horse.
Prince Jeorginifus, thirteen at the time, walked up then and was promptly drafted by his sister as a stepladder. He saw money change hands between his father and the quick little stranger, and gathered from this that his father had bought a new horse.
"I'll call it Warren," said the overjoyed Princess, her legs sticking out at almost right angles from the horse's broad back.
"Are you sure?" Asked Jeorginifus as he stood up.
"Yep," replied Margie, hugging the horse by the neck, "It's the perfect name for this horse."
The Prince shrugged resignedly, for his sister was right: the name did fit the horse. However King Lowhill noticed his hesitation at the name, and asked him about it.
"Well Dad," said the bespectacled youth, "while the name is perfect, it seems a little bit odd."
"How so?" asked the King.
"Warren's a name you'd give to a stallion, Dad."
King Lowhill quickly became a shade of red that most closely resembled a beet and spun around in fury to accost the sneaky salesperson. But when he turned the quick little man was gone, a few clouds of dust floating in the air where he had been.
"We later found out why Ernest had been so willing to sell: Warren has a stubborn streak a league wide, and has to be pleaded with to get even the slightest performance that isn't her idea. One of her favorite things to do is bite my father, who she seems to have equated with her former owner. She is great with children, though."
Bror was laughing so hard that George was sure he would explode. Or at least that was what he hoped would happen so that he could get some sleep. Unfortunately there was no such luck, and an almost endless number of checker games passed, along with several more hours of meaningless chatter and awful jokes from the big farmer, all of which George was behooved to laugh at.
Now it was morning, and the young Prince of Lowhill pulled on his armor, still grumbling to his patient horse. He found himself rather grateful that his father was so much lighter and weaker than he was, for that was who the armor had originally belonged to, and so it was correspondingly less massive and weighty. Unfortunately, his father was also much shorter than he was, so that while the armor was light enough for the Prince to put on by himself, the plates fit his tall and thin body very badly, leaving a great deal of space covered only by the Prince's clothes. Coupling this with the ridiculous?looking helmet, which was actually a modified dessert pot from the castle's kitchen that still had the smell of strawberries and cream in it, and the wire?frame spectacles that sparkled just inside the eye?slit of the helmet, Jeorginifus cut quite a memorable figure.
After saddling Warren, Jeorginifus mounted with as much grace as a man in metal pants can manage, and then stuck his feet into his boots, which were still bolted to the stirrups. That finished, he shook the reins lightly. Warren, however, decided that she was not going anywhere with someone dressed in heavy metal shorts, and didn't move in the least. The Prince frowned at this, while expected, rather annoying turn of events.
"I don't suppose we can talk this over?" he asked the mare in a pleading voice. Warren gave him a disparaging look. She was not going anywhere with someone who looked as ridiculous, or weighed as much, as he did right then.
"Rats," said the Prince. Then an idea hit him.
Reaching into the saddlebag that held the lunch his sister had packed for him, Jeorginifus pulled out a plump, juicy orange carrot and waved it tantalizingly next to Warren's nose.
"You don't get many of these, do you Warren?" asked the Prince in a sly, seductive voice. The horse snorted eagerly and shook its head.
"A carrot would really hit the spot about now, wouldn't it?" he went on, his tone becoming as persuasive as the smell of carrot. Warren nodded eagerly. Smiling calmly, Jeorginifus then casually stuck the carrot back in the saddlebag.
"Get me to the dragon, and you'll get two of them."
Warren was off like a shot.
Jeorginifus handed one of his carrots to Warren, who ate it with gusto, savoring every bite, and then turned her head expectantly for the second one.
"We haven't met the dragon yet, Warren," said Jeorginifus. "The deal was that you get me to the dragon, not the front of it's cave."
Warren snorted in annoyance.
"Well, you know it isn't my idea. But duty is duty. And even if it wasn't, that lummox Bror would probably squish me or something if I didn't go, and then make you into a plow horse."
The tall mare shuddered at the thought.
"My thoughts exactly. Now let's get going," finished the Prince in his matter?of?fact voice, shaking the reins a little.
Warren started forward through the light rain at a trot, decidedly uneasy. If it weren't for the promise of the second juicy carrot she had seen his sister put in with the rest of Jeorginifus' lunch, coupled with the possibility of the humiliation and hard work of being made into a plow horse, a fate far less pleasant than her life of ease at the castle, she would have turned around and headed straight back to her nice safe stable at Castle Lowhill.
When they were within twenty feet of the cave mouth, set in the side of a hill with scorched grass and blackened earth all around that swiftly turned to mud in the rain, Jeorginifus lifted his shield and pulled his lance from its holder on his saddle. On the shield, polished to a mirror brightness by the industrious Princess Margie (despite the large dent on the left side), was the emblem of House Lowhill: a white rabbit's foot under a four?leaf clover under a horseshoe. Not exactly intimidating but, then again, as King Lowhill always said, it didn't hurt to have a little added protection.
Levelling his lance at the cave mouth, Jeorginifus called out his challenge in a voice like thunder: "Hey you in there!" and charged. There was an almost immediate response.
From the cave, large clouds of smoke began to rise up, soon obscuring it from sight. A growl started somewhere behind all of the smoke, and began to rise in volume until it became an almost earth?shattering roar. Then a bolt of searing fire jetted out, straight at the charging knight and horse!
Jeorginifus took the blast on his shield, and the force of it nearly knocked him out of the saddle, being held on only just barely by the rivets holding his boots to the stirrups. Warren promptly decided that being burned to a crisp wasn't worth the carrot, and took off in the opposite direction. Unfortunately for the Prince, the suddenness of Warren's turn was enough to jar him the rest of the way out of his boots.
Landing face?first on the muddy ground, Jeorginifus suddenly realized that his shield had turned white hot. With frantic speed, he tore it off his arm and threw it away by the leather straps, which had been cooked to a charred black. It fell into a nearby mud puddle with a puff of steam. This immediate source of pain removed, he pulled himself up and took stock of his steadily worsening situation. Warren was heading off at top speed towards her stall at Castle Lowhill, and so was no longer a part of the equation. Along with her, she took Jeorginifus' lunch and boots, the former in his saddlebag, the latter still bolted to the stirrups. His shield was quite thoroughly toasted, and his lance had broken on the ground when he was thrown from Warren's back. To top it all off, the light drizzle began to pick up, soon becoming a downpour.
Jeorginifus was having a very bad day.
It was then he noticed something. Above the clouds of dense black smoke that still obscured the cave, there was a thin trail of wood?smoke, coming from the other side of the hill the cave was set into. This side was very close to the dark, supposedly enchanted forest that bordered Lowhill, and so it was natural for nobody to go near it, for fear of being turned into something unnatural. Prince Jeorginifus Lowhill thought for a moment, and then pulled off his arm and lower?leg armor. He then scrunched them into as tight a ball as he could like old laundry, quite a feat with metal armor, and dropped them next to his shield. Then, drawing his sword, the Prince hurried around to the back of the hill before the smoke in front of the cave was dissipated by the rain.
Almost as soon as he reached his destination, Jeorginifus saw what he was looking for: the back door to the cave, topped by a stove?pipe chimney. As it turned out, the back door was a rather plain wooden door of moderate size, with a dirty yellow mat on the step that read 'WELCOME' in large, friendly letters. Blinking at this unexpected sight, Prince George thought a moment, and then tried the door. Unfortunately it was locked tight, and was much too sturdy for the puny Prince to have a hope of breaking it down. His options depleted, Jeorginifus decided upon the last of his options: he walked up to the door, and knocked.
Nothing happened for a few moments. And then George heard the sound of footsteps, but they were mingled with a strange scraping noise which the young Prince couldn't account for. Abruptly the door opened, and the Prince found himself face to scaly face with a Dragon!
Actually, the Dragon was not nearly as large as the Prince had first imagined, being just a few inches taller than him, not counting the long neck and tail. It was the color of pea soup, with fine scales all over its body, and a line of triangular ridges running down its back. Perched on its muzzle were a pair of gold?rimmed spectacles, whose ear?clasps wrapped around the pair of nut?brown horns growing out of the top of the Dragon's head.
"Hullo," said the Dragon in a deep, sleepy?sounding voice. "I assume you've come to attend the wedding. I'm sorry, but they've almost finished, although you might still catch the kiss. Just follow me and I'll find you a place to sit." The hulking scaled figure then turned around, nearly knocking Jeorginifus off his feet with the spade?like end of its tail, and began walking down the long hallway beyond the door. Before it got too far ahead it glanced over it's shoulder and called back. "Oh, and by the way, I just mopped the floor. So please wipe your," it glanced at the Prince's feet, "socks on the mat."
George obediantly did as the scaled creature told him (realizing that he didn't even know what gender it was), and hurried to catch up with the receding figure. Finding that it nearly filled the tunnel, George couldn't see where he was being led, until quite suddenly the corridor opened up, and the Prince had to blink several times from the sudden brightness of numerous candles and a brilliantly?lit chandelier hanging from the ceiling of the huge cave he had just entered.
On every side he saw benches, and seated on them were Dragons of so many shapes, sizes, and descriptions that George was quite taken aback. Some blew their noses on large quilts that George gathered to be handkerchiefs. The cave itself had been done over in white paint, and had a small organ nestled into an alcove near the back, played by a smaller orange Dragon that was slightly smaller than an average human, including neck and tail. In front of the organ was an altar, and nearest the organ, facing outward towards the rest of the room, towered a Dragon the color of autumn leaves that would certainly have filled the hall, if it wasn't seated mostly inside of a deep pit, with only its upper body coming out. Standing before the huge Dragon were a much smaller Dragon with polished bronze scales, wearing a tuxedo specially modified to fit over its wings and back spines, and a human woman in a full white wedding dress and veil.
George realized that the bride must be the damsel in distress who had been kidnapped from her village, and was about to leap forward with his sword to save her, when he felt a large talon on his shoulder.
"Please step this way," said the sleepy?sounding Dragon who had shown the Prince in, and Jeorginifus found himself gently but firmly guided to a nearly full couch, and then placed in between two Dragons, the tight fit nearly taking his breath away. The smallish peach?colored Dragon on his right gave George a pretty smile, earning a disapproving glance from the greyish Dragon on George's left which she ignored, and she moved over a bit, allowing him to breath more easily.
"Thanks," he said to the Dragon.
"Don't mention it," replied the Dragon, with a sultry?sounding voice that was most definitely female. George soon noticed that in moving herself, the peach?colored Dragon had also slipped her arm around him. He gulped a bit, and gave the Dragoness a nervous smile, to which the Dragoness smiled back, happily wrapping her tail around one of his legs in what George decided was definitely a flirtatious manner, which further added to his growing nervousness. Since the Dragoness was small for her kind that made her only slightly taller than Jeorginifus, which made her affections more easily fit his scale of interest, and therefore very distracting. Trying to take his mind off the Dragoness's roaming tail and talons, George began to listen to the service, which was read by the huge Dragon at the front from a large leather?bound tome on the altar separating him from the couple, its voice a solemn boom that filled the chamber.
"Do you, Boilerpate Firegold, take this female to be your lawfully wedded wife, forever?"
"I do," said the bronze?scaled Dragon.
"And do you, Thomasina Jackson of Lowhill Town, take this male to be your lawfully wedded husband, for the same period of time?"
"I do," said the slim woman.
"Then bring forth the rings." At this, a medium?sized black Dragon with coarse scales lumbered forward, and handed the bronze Dragon a ring of gold that was dwarfed in the black's claw, and gave the woman a strangely shaped golden object. Then, with the large Dragon watching over the exchange, the groom slipped the ring onto the finger of his bride, while at the same time his bride pressed the object in her hand onto his left horn, revealing it as a horn?cap. The black Dragon bent and gave the cap a squeeze to tighten it, and then returned to his seat. This done, the great Dragon addressed the assemblage before it.
"If anyone here can think of a reason why these two should not be wed, let them now speak, or forever hold their peace."
"I object!"
Prince Jeorginifus was quite startled at the sudden objection, which had been very bold and heroic?sounding. He was even more startled when he realized that it had come from himself, and that he was now standing, with the eyes of several very large Dragons fixed on him.
"On what grounds?" bellowed the husband?to?be, glaring angrily at George, smoke starting from his nostrils.
"On the grounds that this damsel in distress," the Prince indicated the bride, "was abducted from her people, and is being forced to marry a Dragon."
There was a loud murmuring that ran through the room, which did not sound at all pleased. The peach Dragon next to George gave him a shocked look, and tried to pull him gently back onto his seat with her tail. But he refused to be budged until he was sure justice had been satisfied.
The large Dragon at the front of the room glowered at the tiny Prince, and lowered its head until it was eye to massive glowing eye with him.
"This is a very serious charge, human. You had better be able to back it up," rumbled the huge reptilian beast.
"I most certainly can, and I will. First, the groom is a Dragon, who this damsel in distress is marrying," replied the Prince, his voice the only thing not trembling. "Second, the entire village of Lowhill has agreed that she was abducted, and thus petitioned the king of Lowhill, leading to his sending his only son, namely me, into danger of bodily harm, something he would never do. I think. Sometimes. Maybe." Ignoring the snickers of the surrounding Dragons, Jeorginifus continued. "And finally, Dragons don't marry humans to the best of my knowledge. In the past, Dragons have been known to carry off maidens to their lairs, never to be seen again, but this is generally the only interaction recorded between the two species." When George finished his speech, he found that it was growing steadily harder to control his internal organs under the piercing gaze of the huge Dragon staring at him, and desperately hoped that he wouldn't have to continue his current path for much longer. The large Dragon turned its head to face the groom.
"Is what he says about abduction true, Boilerpate?"
The bronze scaled Dragon gave Jeorginifus a withering glare and then turned to face the larger Dragon, emiting a noise like a kettle on the boil from its nostrils.
"Not exactly, Mr. Leviticus, sir," muttered the would?be groom after a tense pause, breaking eye contact with the other Dragon.
"Meaning?" queried Leviticus.
"Meaning he abducted me, as per the rules of correct Dragonish behavior," said the bride?to?be defiantly. "After getting my permission first."
This caused a stir in the assemblage of scaled persons, who muttered nervously amongst themselves for a few moments, but silenced instantly upon an annoyed glance from the towering Leviticus. After pondering for a moment, the elder Dragon spoke again, speaking to no one in particular.
"This is somewhat unorthodox behavior, even for this day and age. While I have performed the services for some Dragon/human marriages in the Orient, and even a few in this part of the world, I have never heard of this occurring. How did you decide upon such a course of action?" This time he addressed Thomasina, who seemed less intimidated by Leviticus' presence, and therefore more coherent.
"Wait a moment," called out the Prince, barely keeping his voice from cracking. "What about the knights that tried to rescue this damsel, and now are suffering from terminal Drangonfire?"
The so?called damsel and Leviticus both gave the Prince an annoyed glance.
"I'll get to that part," said Thomasina, "And stop calling me a damsel in distress. I'm not in distress, I'm in this dress," she indicated her gown, "and I was going to get married until you butted in, so sit down and shut up."
George sat down and shut up, giving his Dragoness companion a perfect opportunity to reclaim her hold on him.
"As I was saying," continued the bride, "Pate abducted me because my father didn't approve of the wedding, and he was trying to get a dowry for my marriage from two knights from the nearby kingdom of Hightop, neither of whom had any manners or wanted me for anything other than my looks."
At this pont Boilerpate found his tongue, and continued the tale.
"Thomi wanted us to fly off to some remote island somewhere, but I explained to her that Dragons don't elope as a matter of principle. And besides, Mom found out about our plans, and insisted we have a wedding." At this, the party mentioned, a lime green Dragon with a mane of black hair, giggled. The bronze Dragon continued, blushing only a little. "Since for a normal wedding I would have to get my love's father's permission, we had to search through the Manuals of Dragon/Human Protocol for a suitable answer."
Thomasina took up from there.
"We found page 572, paragraph 6, which states 'All maidens and damsels abducted, kidnapped, or otherwise taken from their homes by forceful means, are to be considered the sole property of their abducting Dragon, until such time as the abductor decides to free his prisoner, or she is taken from him by a knight, prince, hero, or other figure filling a similar station.'"
Since Thomasina was out of breath at the end of reciting the memorized passage of legalese, Boilerpate took over again.
"After reading that, and translating it into regular speech, we decided that this was just the way to get her out of her father's control until after we were married: I would abduct her, and she would marry me while still my captive, and then I would release her right after our marriage was made official, so her father wouldn't have any legal way of preventing the marriage." Then he sighed. "Unfortunately, we hadn't counted on Thomi's former suitors being quite so enthusiastic about their jobs, as they both immediately set out to rescue my love from me. They disrupted the decorating for the wedding, and Harry had to roast them."
"It was self?defense," grumped the pea green Dragon who had shown George in, sounding sullen. "They tried to hit me with their pointy metal things. If I hadn't blasted them, they would have got their aim right after a few more tries."
Leviticus shook his head, sighing loudly. He then turned to the Prince.
"Has this matter been adequately explained to silence your objection?"
George glanced up at the Dragon unconcernedly, and then at the couple by the altar.
"There's just one more thing I want to know," he said.
"Which is?"
"Is the first name of your father Bror, by any chance?" he asked Thomasina.
Everyone blinked.
"Why, yes, he is," said Thomasina.
"Are you satisfied now?" rumbled Leviticus.
The Prince grinned.
"More than satisfied, Your Scaliness."
"In that case," the great Dragon looked down at the couple before him, "I now declare you Dragon and Wife. You may now kiss."
Prince Jeorginifus wasn't watching as the pair embraced in what was very likely the second most passionate kiss in recorded history. As it turned out, he was rather occupied with a certain pink Dragoness, both of them having found that they were quite content to let the world continue on its merry way as they talked quietly.
Hmm, thought George, as his pretty companion tickled his ear with her tongue, her tail gently caressing his leg. I wonder if that manual of protocal says anything about the abduction of Princes.