In Days of Old when Knights were Bold

In Days of Old When Knights Were Bold.

By Joshua Klazinga.









A long time ago, so long ago that people talked in Old English, there was a boy. This was no ordinary boy. This boy was special. His name was Bobbe! (Cool, huh?). And he too, talked in Old English. The town they lived in was entitled ‘Ye Oldde Town’. His life’s dream was to become a knight. But there was one problem. Bobbe was small. He was eleven, and was only two feet tall. His mother kept telling him to grow up, and that he would never fit into a suit of armor, and to give up, and… Well, you get the picture. But Bobbe thought that he, with his pet dragon Quincy, would someday become a knight. So, one day, he set out to seek his fortune, with Quincy tailing behind. “Now Quincy,” he said. “No eating pedestrians! A foreigner or two is fine, but ye know thou art on a diet.” The dragon whimpered and looked longingly at the people surrounding them, or who were surrounding them until they heard Bobbe’s words.
Eventually, Bobbe and Quincy arrived at the castle of (drum roll please) King Cal the Cool! Arriving at the gate, Bobbe saw a guard. “Hello, sir. I would like to apply for a position as a page.”
The guard looked around, and barked, “Who speaketh? I can nary see ye anywhere!”
“I did! Look ye down!” Bobbe said, and the guard did.
Seeing Bobbe, he burst out laughing. “Ye, a page! Hah, thou wouldst rip too easily! That was a good one, hehehehe. Thou art tiny! Hahahahaha!” The laughable guard stopped, and looked at him again. “Thou art joking, right?”
Bobbe scowled. “Quincy! Eat the bad man!” Quincy strode forward, a pleased look on his face.
“All right! I shall try to get the King to see thee! Pray do not eat me, Sir Dragon!
When Bobbe told Quincy to stop, he did, but not willingly. When the guard came back, he told Bobbe that he could enter, but he had to leave the dragon behind. The castle itself was strange. Instead of the average boring paintings hanging on the walls, waist-high carpets and ceremonial lamps, there were rock posters on the walls, a dance floor and disco lights. “Now I doth know why they call him King Cal the Cool!” Bobbe commented. Suddenly there was a crash as a door burst open, and what appeared to be a whirlwind flew into the room. Soon it stopped and a very strange thing appeared. It was dressed, (if you could call it that) in a pair of tight purple pants and had earrings the size of hula hoops on its ears.
“Did somebody say my name?!” it said.
Bobbe gaped. “Thou art the King?! But, well, I, uh, was nary expecting, um, um, you!”
“Well, baby, I AM King Cal the Cool, man!” the King shrieked.
“Oh”, was all Bobbe could say.
“Weeeeeell? What’re ya wantin’, dude? I AM lackin’ food for my dragons, though… Hahaha! Don’t go worryin’, I’m kiddin’ ya. Was a good un’ though, eh shorty?
“Yessir. Haha.” said Bobbe respectfully. Then, just to be sure, “Are ye sure thou art the King?”
“What do I look, mini-man, stoopid?! Now you lissen here. I. AM. KING. CAL. THE. COOL. Got it, bro?!” His Majesty was starting to froth at the mouth with all the shouting and screaming he was doing, something that happened very often when he had an audience. He strummed a few chords on the guitar hanging around his neck, and a guard hup-tood into the room. “Get this *BEEP* out of here before I *BEEP* well lose my *BEEP* temper!!!”
“Yessir. Right away, sir. This way please!” He ushered Bobbe into a large, intimidating gateway. Something was wrong. “This is nary the way out! Where art thou taking me?”
“To the King’s dragon’s lair. Ye know, it is their lunchtime now. Not that ye will fill their stomachs, of course.” the guard replied.
Bobbe looked confused. “But I did not do anything wrong!”
Now it was the guards turn to be confused. “Thou did anger the King, didst thou not?” Bobbe nodded. The guard looked relieved. “Well, the law states that anyone who angers the king is to be forthwith thrown to the dragons. Quite simple, really. Dost thou know how long it took the king to find his temper last time he lost it? Thou art actually quite lucky!”
“But the king said he was joking when he said I was to be dragon food!” Bobbe protested.
The guard chuckled. “And thou believed him? thou art crazier than I thought!”
By then they had arrived at an ENORMOUS iron door. Engraved upon it were three HUGE dragons breathing fire. “That one’s Death, he’s Pain, and her name is Torture. They are only images of course. The real fellas are much cuter!” he said fondly. “Of course, thou shall be dead before ye can get a proper look.”
“Yay.” Bobbe said weakly. He was feeling a little sick. Well, to be honest, a LOT sick. He thought he was going to die. Well, he WAS going… Whatever.
As if in a dream, Bobbe watched the heavy door being opened, and walked slowly in. He looked up, and nearly screamed. There in front of him was a dragon. No, three dragons. They had noticed the door opening, and had been watching for their lunch.
“Quincy” he squealed. Then, “Quincyquincyquincyquincyquincyquincy” he shrieked at the top of his lungs. Unfortunately, the dragons heard, and saw him sitting on the floor, wailing his head off. They were used to it. Hardly ever had they tasted someone who had not wailed his head off. They set towards him, eager looks in their eyes. Bobbe, seeing this, stopped wailing like a baby and started running like a coward. Torture decided she wanted a quick meal and swooped after him. Bobbe fled, almost into the mouth of Pain, but swerved, just to confront Death. Then Something Happened. A fourth small dragon flew in through the air vent on the roof. Bobbe groaned. Just what he needed, another adversary. Then he recognized it as Quincy. He had heard Bobbe call!
Quincy soared majestically into the cavern, then… crashed head on into the wall, and sank to the ground, moaning. Bobbe rolled his eyes. Just like Quincy. He prepared to give up when a sliver of light appeared on the floor, and he heard a whistle. Looking again, he saw a small door, opening into the cavern. He dashed towards it, with Pain hot on his heels. As soon as he was through he stopped. There stood King Cal the Cool. Bobbe backpedaled but a guard was blocking the door.
“Dude you were AWESOME! I have a platform in da cave to watch the action, ya know? Ya sucked at first but when ya kilt da dragon, I thought, ‘I could use dis one, man,’” his Majesty raved. “I know ya wannabe a page, dey always do. Tell ya what! Ferget da page stuff, yer a knight, man! Jus’ gotta get da right armor, dat’s all!”
Bobbe was almost as ecstatic as the King. ‘Wow! I do not recall killing a dragon though… Oh, well. I canst believe I am a knight at last! Sir Bobbe, that art me!’ he thought, and then remembered. “That dost be really cool, sir, thanks tons! I have just one question.”
“Shoot!” said King Cal the Cool.

“Can I have my pet dragon back?”


The End.