Someone (who will remain nameless unless he chooses to reveal himself) challenged me to write a short story under very specific circumstances. Being the happy frog I am I couldn’t let the challenge go unanswered, so here is the end result. Quite how it is to be judged I don’t know, that wasn’t included in the challenge. I suppose if I post the story and let the readers see if they can decide on what I was asked to do. It is probably obvious but if you notice it straight off the bat I failed, if it takes you longer and a bit of thinking to spot I think that counts as a win for me. I’ll post the answer in a few days, if anyone cares.
Mini Scene setting: Fulk and Eleanor as per usual, set in one of the many scenes when she is recovering from that wound she picked up at the end of tale 4. Some of this will be recognisable as following on from the beginning of tale 5, but otherwise this is just one of many similar scenes.
“Alright then Sir Bluffalot, entertain me – I am still waiting for you to make good on that promise to see I don’t go crazy with boredom while waiting for my arm to heal”
“Oh Wondrous One I have been trying-“
“Trying, but sadly not succeeding. It is perfectly safe to say I have never been so bored in my entire life.”
“I do have a castle to staff and run, it’s not easy being newly bumped up to knight with a run down dump of a fief like this place”
“I would take your accounting over my sitting around feeling ill any day. Besides, sir Fulk of the misshapen nose, any knight worth the label knows you hire a reeve to sort all the detail while you go off on lengthy hunting trips, visit your mistresses, entertain guests, and club people with a wide variety of deadly weaponry”
“Yes, and look what I ended up with – one crummy castle, no guests but a problematic royal, I never liked hunting, no people to fight except for that problematic royal, and the mistress part is best left uncommented on if I want to avoid being gutted with a blunt spoon”
“Oh cheer up, if you get much more mournful you will burst into tears and then your armour will rust If it does that all the joints will squeak…I would be able to call you Sir Squeakalot”
“I’m not wearing my armour”
“See how much attention I pay to you? Not a jot, as you are far too dull to merit my interest. Shall I make my request for entertainment a royal command?”
“Now you’re just taking advantage of my fear of princesses”
“Oh yes, why not? It is fun, after all. And spare me the self pity, I am the one with the bodyguard who will not listen to a word I say.”
“Maybe you don’t say the right words, Oh Lofty One?”
“That could be possible… let me try this instead: I am bored, I don’t like being bored, in fact when I get bored I tend to do things you don’t like-“
“Like throwing knives in my general direction and whining about losing at chess”
“Precisely, therefore stop me being bored or I will start throwing knives and ruining the woodwork again”
“You could just say please you know.”
“Yes, but where is the fun in that? As my tutors constantly reminded me royalty commands, never asks nor begs and I am inescapably royal.”
“Now you’re really abusing my fear of princesses”
“You know as well as I do that I loathe being royal, so don’t try to make me feel guilty.”
“I wonder what you’d do if you weren’t royal…I can’t see you as a fish wife somehow, not a basket weaver either. You need a job where you can be bossy, mean, cruel and nasty”
“Thank you for recognising my royal breeding and the characteristics it lends to me. I can see myself quite happily as a minor noble running some small castle and organising everything to my liking.”
“Yes, I can see that too…scary, isn’t it?”
“Well you are the one who keeps hinting at me helping you sort out the mess you have inherited with this fief If you don’t like my input stop placing piles of parchment with accounts written on them next to me and groaning about how busy you are and how you wish someone would help you”
“You know I like your help-“
“Yes, because you are lazy.”
“You do have to admit you said you’d rather do the accounting earlier.”
“I said I would rather have the accounting than the wounded arm. I get both the accounting and the throbbing arm that feels like some considerate person has poured molten iron all over it, combined with near constant nausea, and tiredness due to my strange inability to sleep while in agony.”
“I suppose you do, but think of the few consolations that arm gives you.”
“And what would they be?”
“Well…the bandages suit you somehow, the contrast of white against your jet-black hair-“
“You’re going all poetic on me again – I thought we had agreed you would stop that?”
“As I told you before, you must have been dreaming. Now where was I? Oh yes, you rather enjoy the claim to being weak and needing my help all the time-“
“I most certainly do not”
“You like sitting around leaning on me-“
“Never”
“You enjoy my company-“
“I think I shall kill you if you keep talking gibberish”
“Ah, but then you would be lonely and even more bored Hah, you’re speechless Now that’s a rare sight”
“I am not speechless And if I were it would be at how ridiculous your imagination is”
“If this is just my imagination why have you gone pink again? You’d only blush if it were true…”
“I am not blushing”
“I think it makes you look quite adorable really, almost innocent somehow.”
“As I told you before I am innocent thank you very much Having the misfortune to be kissed by you a couple of times-”
“More than a couple of times, Oh Pure of Heart.”
“-When I couldn’t defend myself does nothing to alter that”
“You are more than capable of dispatching someone as feeble as me, even with one arm in a sling”
“I…you…that…but…I...damn If I agree with you I am admitting that load of tripe was true, if I deny it then I admit to being helpless”
“Does that count as a victory for me?”
“Oh all right, I am tough enough to admit when I have lost.”
“So you admit to liking me?”
“Don’t push your luck”
“Ah well, I’ll just forget that offer I nearly made of a kiss for the runner up…”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, this is preposterous…why not extend that offer to a quiet evening in front of the fire?”
“As you wish, Oh Bandaged One. I think I can survive another evening of being a royal pillow.”
