William left his little thatch-roofed home and mounted his steed. Small though it was, the coal-black beast was swift as any other as it took off at a run. William was headed northward to Camelot, the beautiful court of King Arthur and the legendary Knights of the Round Table. For the past five years, William had dreamed of becoming one of Arthur's knights. He had heard of their exploits--the wondrous tales of Lancelot and Galahad and Gawain--and now, the King had returned from a long and arduous quest. William's time had finally come.
He came to a bridge which passed over a dark lake. In the distance, William could hear the eerie voice of a fairy or other mythical creature singing a lament. He paid the voice no attention and continued onwards to Camelot.
He arrived at a village and in the distance, he could see a great stone castle--Camelot, at last! He moved onwards through the village, but was stopped by an old hag.
Evening, deary! Fancy a drink? My brother runs a pub in town, and I think he'd be more than willing to treat a young man so fine as yourself to a pint or two of ale.
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