Thanks to Tosa for setting up this post. Here is a story that I began yesterday; I would welcome your thoughts please and I hope you enjoy. Please note, this is my first attempt at a story and so its quite rough.

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I am the Throne of Kings.

I have seen an empire forged from the blood of men; I have seen plots, intrigue and deception on a grand scale, petty jealousies decide the fate of whole nations and then watched as unbridled ambition brought a once proud realm to its knees.

The fires from the Grand Banqueting Hall have spread to this Throne Room; bodies lie strewn across the floor, blood carpeting the tiles staining them crimson, tapestries that have not been stolen are ripped and crumpled. Soon this room and I will be engulfed. The threadbare cushions that lie on me are already becoming hot, as the furnace builds in its intensity. My owner headless body lies pinned against me; we will share the same fate. I can hear the screams of dying men, women and children, as the Moors that have laid this citadel to siege for 5 years run amok through its streets, stripping it of any wealth and jewels.

My story started many years ago as a tree. I was a tall oak in the forest, tended from a sapling by Nature, destined to become an Old Man of the Forest. My boughs spread wide giving refuge to birds and animals that sought shade from the non day sun, I brought forth food for the wild boar, watched deer be chased by men on horses. Then one day, three men with cattle with chain harnesses came, looked at my straight trunk and a brief word was passed:

"This will make a fine throne for our Lord." said the stockiest of them, with an air of authority "Once you have cut in down, take in to the carpenter - he has been told what is needed."

The other two men respectfully nodded and watched the receding back of the Chamberlain; looked at each other and laughed.

"Self-important idiot," quipped Jack "telling us something that we already know. Anyone could see that this tree is just right for what's needed"

"Yeah, like he's ever cut down anything other than vegetables in his entire life" said the other.

Jack and his friend were men made to cut down trees; their shoulders were broad, their hands easily gripped the shaft of the axe making them appear toys and the muscles of their back moved with an easy fluidity. They had the look of men who spent their lives outdoors; weather beaten faces, etched by winds and rain, brown faces and sun bleached hair. Swinging their axes high, the first struck sending a vicious shudder through my entire length and then the other fell. They beat out a slow steady beat, each blow cutting deeper, sending shards of wood spinning in the air. I could nothing but watch, as the sweat glistened on their arms and the splinters fell all around.

"Eh bugger, this is tough one Dave - like he's made out of stone" gasped Jack. His friend, put down his axe and laughed, "You getting old; come on Granddad, the exercise will do you good." Dave pulled back his axe and set to the task once again, the beat of the axes heard far and wide. I could feel that the weight of canopy was pulling me towards them; it would not be long and my dreams of becoming the Leviathan of the Forest would be no longer.
As another swing of the axe foretells a sickening cracking, I start to fall. That first moment seems to last an eternity, but as movement speeds up, the ground rushes up to greet me as the men shout. In a hearts' beat I have come to rest on the forest floor; there is a sudden stillness, as the forest takes a moment to mourn another felled tree. Soon, the normal sounds resume. As I am dragged from the forest by the cattle, with Jack and Dave urging them on, one though occupies my mind - what on earth is a throne?
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For months the carpenter shapes the once proud oak in to a glorified chair. Elaborate carvings adorn it from the lion's feet, to shields of the four provinces that make up the kingdom on its side, mythic creatures to emphasise the magic of divine kingship and a sword to remind all how this particular king came to power. The Chamberlain is a continual visitor, overseeing and supervising any and all parts of the Thrones construction; his complete lack of knowledge, skill or ability not proving an obstacle in this. The poor Master Joiner dreading the visits that mean another change, another helpful suggestion, another headache; a typical visit lasting three hours, meaning yet more intricate carvings and all on the same low priced demanded by the Chamberlain.

"Sir, I could carve dragon wings on the back on the Throne; if that is what you desire. But, wouldn't it, well be pointless?" asked the Master Joiner despairingly "After all, the only people who might see the back are the serving wenches, our King?s dogs and the back wall of the new Throne room"

The Chamberlain stopped in mid-thought and blinked "Do you not think that the majesty of our Kings should be reflected at every angle? Do you think he is not worthy of a Throne that would the envy of the civilised world"?

"Why but of course," the Master Joiner "but as dragons are the emblem of the Welsh and therefore, not particularly civilised, I would have thought that our King would have preferred something more regal. Perhaps an eagle?"
"A bird? Wait, you're a genius - of course, it will bring to mind the glory that was Rome, it will set our king amongst the pantheon of the empires of antiquity" beamed the Chamberlain.

"Yes sir it will do all that" said the Master Joiner, whilst thinking to himself that the Chamberlain used far too many long words that only he knew the meaning of and that if he agreed to whatever the Chamberlain was saying, would probably get the silly idiot out of his workshop so that he could get on with his work. Behind him, his apprentices sniggered amongst themselves at the obvious discomfort of their master. They had been running a book for the last two weeks on how many swear words the Master Joiner would use after each visit of the Chamberlain. So far the record was 36 and some words had to be checked as they weren't sure if the Old Man had made them up.

And so the Throne took shape, the Master Joiner and the Chamberlain were both pleased and it was handed over to Elijah Rosenberg. The old Jew produced without doubt the finest gilding and jewel encrusted pieces in the whole of Christendom; in fact, he wasn't averse to making a few bob on the side for the local monastery by knocking out the odd relic or two. Still, if another holy grail kept them happy, what the heck. Elijah started work in the winter of 1087, it took many hours of squinting, rubbing and gluing before the Throne was ready.
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I remember that the carving took only half as long as the work by Elijah and his hands were certainly more careful than those dull witted apprentices. I think of all the people I've known, Elijah has been on of the very few to speak to me. As he gilded me with gold, set in jewels and polished he would talk to me of the people in the town. The blacksmith who was appeared all man, but preferred all men; the Constable who solidly went about punishing those the Mayor said had committed crimes, but had really refused to bribe him; the Abbot who spoke of the fires of Hell and scared people in to believing and finally, of the King. A man who had brought his lands together by sheer force of will and of the sword; a relatively young man of 30 who spoke little, but when he did you made damn sure you listened. So it was to this person that I was brought in the Spring of 1088 by the Chamberlain. He had had the audacity of visiting Elijah once, only to find a man who didn't just think he was smart but knew he was as well. The poor Chamberlain left in such a confused state, not knowing if he had driven a good bargain or not and it had started out so well for him.

"I would of course like to pay you 250 florins for the chair straight away, but the Treasurer is a little tight after building all those watchtowers." stated the Chamberlain "So we'll have to agree to 100 florins now and 150 on delivery"

"You could of course my lord" Elijah said as he hunched over the workbench, working on another jewel "but there may be another way that could be cheaper for you"

Now the idea of saving money always brought out extra interest in the Chamberlain, who demurred, "Really, please do go on"

Elijah sighed, lay down the jewellers pick in his hand and stretched his back. I had seen this before and it was sign that the person who he was speaking to was just about to get fleeced and probably not know it.

"It works like this. I do all the gilding and jewellery on the Throne and then pass it on to you. I'll also make sure that any upkeep, maintenance or other work to keep it in tip top condition. For this, you pay me 25 florins now and then every year you pay me or my sons' 25 florins to maintain the Throne for the next 25 years. My sons will be taking over the business when I retire, which will be quite soon. My eyesight's failing and my hands aren't as steady." As if on cue, Elijah's hands started a mild tremor which was only stopped by thrusting them deep in his pockets.

"How does that work out cheaper?" enquired the Chamberlain. The idea seemed good enough; he could agree and then just have the old man bumped off.

"Well, imagine that this falls off," as he says this, Elijah points to a large ruby on the leg of the Throne "for me or my lads to come and fix that would normally cost upwards of 100 florins. This way, it wouldn't cost anything more than just the expenses of getting to the castle, say 20 shillings, food at say 2 shillings, our hourly rate of 10 shillings, materials, tools, equipment all at say 10 shillings. So you see, it's a lot cheaper my way, than your proposed method my Lord." As Elijah spoke he punctuated each point with stab of his finger in to the palm of his other hand. It was clear that the Chamberlain was lost, but didn't want to appear a fool in front of the old man, in which he failed miserably.

"So it's cheaper for me then, going your way?" asked the Chamberlain trying to fight his way through a fog of miscomprehension.

"Yes my lord, much cheaper" said Elijah in a way that reminded me of a fox tracking a squirrel.

"Ah but I have a problem with this, the acribes always demand immediate payment, so that the books can balance and they would not have a book in to which this would nicely fall." remarked the Chamberlain.

"Well, if it's a problem over a name for the purchase my Lord; why don't you call it something fancy and meaningless, that should satisfy them." said Elijah, sensing that he was near to sealing the issue.

With exasperation of countless years of dealing with pedantic scribes the Chamberlain sighed, "But what would suffice?"

"How about Private Finance Iniative, or PFI for short?" Elijah said.

"Excellent! Capital! Brilliant! They love acronyms and the more esoteric the better" said the Chamberlain happily.

And so the deal was done and after the Chamberlain left, Elijah let out a sigh and checked that he could not be overheard. Turning back to apply a large red ruby, he said "Well my old fancy chair, it will take some time for that putz to realise that he's been fleeced? Do you know chair there are so many ways to make money out this; replacing a red ruby here with blood glass, using donkey glue instead of finest horse glue and a viola, out pops a jewel for my sons to replace. Ahh, we shall grow rich and everyone will know the name of the Elijah Murdoch." And so Elijah worked on, day and night to create a seat for a king, that would give him and his sons lots of opportunity to make money.

Eventually the day arrived that Elijah passed me over to the Chamberlain or nincompoop as Elijah had lately called him; which on reflection was a great improvement on the profanities the Master Joiner would hurl at back the disappearing Chamberlain. I was taken from Elijah's workshop wrapped in blanket and guarded until arrived in the Throne Room. Apparently I was to be a surprise for the King; if I were, it was the worst planned operation of its day. Servants manhandled me throughout the castle, screaming "Make way for the Kings new Throne", soldiers bellowing for others to get out of the way and in the middle, the Chamberlain; thrilled with his gift, angry at the commotion, basking in the centre of attention. Eventually, I was placed on the dais and moved into position, which given the Chamberlain's tendency to have everything 'just so', meant a great deal of soft swearing and sweating by the servants. At last, I was in the right position and the Chamberlain felt he had timed it perfectly for the sun to be on me through the window just as the King would arrive and so he slinked off to get the King. Who apparently refused to come, as he was busy. The Chamberlain flounced like a petulant child, until the King finally demurred and came out of his Mistress's bedchamber - to much tittering from the servants.

Now let me set the scene for you. The Throne Room in the old castle was not as big as the Throne Room in the later citadel, but even the forest did not feel as tall or as wide as this room. Columns supported a vaulted ceiling, with gargoyles and statues, a few tapestries of local and imported cloth hung on the wall and in one corner, hung a particular tapestry that always reminded me of home. It was of battle scene, but to me that was incidental; on one side a forest was depicted. A proud, mature forest of oak and beech. A stag could be seen peering through the trees watching the battle unfolding before it. Seeing it always made me sad, but also happy. I was not to be Leviathan of the Forest, but perhaps an Emperor may rest his weary body on me in time.

So eventually, the King arrived with fanfares, bowing and curtsies. He was a tall man, broad with sandy hair, proud eyes and languid movements; a warrior with a supple and muscular body. He acknowledged the throng of people, said hello to old friends and grunted at the Chamberlain who brought up to the dais and had him sit down.

He sat for a very short time, then stood and said "It's too bloody uncomfortable - it needs cushions". The Chamberlain sagged as though a bladder of wine had been hit by an arrow. So this was to be my Lord and Master? A man who had come through battles only to be worried about the comfort of his rear end?