In Which I Get Punched By A Troll
The trio of plumed soldiers had blossomed without warning into a regiment of plumed cavalry. Two dozen gleaming horsemen now blocked our path into the palace; two dozen lances aimed squarely at our noses.
One of the gaudier horsemen advanced and met us in the middle of the drawbridge. His helm was golden, his feathers were tall and plush, and his breastplate reflected our own mucky, fist-worn faces back at us. Heavens, I thought, I look an absolute state. I made a mental note to find a bathroom in the palace and give my face a quick scrub before I rescued Astra. Assuming we weren’t trampled to death in the next 15 seconds, of course.
“Greetings,” said the gilded horseman. “I see your pungent company is well armed and hopping mad. What business have you, daring to approach the palace in such a manner?”
“I’m here to kill everyone and save my wife,” I replied.
The guard rolled this idea around for a while. “I don’t think we can be allowing that. No, I’m sorry but you’ll have to come with– OOF!”
And with that he was clobbered off his horse by a low-flying worm, launched by Glob. Edgar landed atop the guard and began swiping at him with his adorable little paws. Selladore and I could only watch dumbfounded as Glob swept up Edgar in her arms and clambered atop the armoured horse (not before giving the downed guard a good shoeing). She whirled around on the beast, which reared up on its hind legs before belting away into the tangle of the city streets, with Edgar being jostled all over the place between her arms.
“Oi!” shouted the downed guard, “We can’t be having that! If the peasants see a palace horse has been stolen we’ll all be for the chop! Lads, get after that girl!”
The mounted company thundered away across the drawbridge, whizzing past Selladore and I in their frantic haste. When they had left, we looked at one another in the ensuing silence.
“I’m rather glad she came along,” said the pirate. I nodded in agreement.
“Now you two listen here,” said the horseless guard, struggling to his feet. “There’s no bloody way I’m letting you two get inside here to kill everyone. If you think for one second that– OOF!”
Splash.
With the guard gently twirling face-down in the moat, we ran inside the palace and raised the drawbridge behind us. We were almost there.
*****
We dashed across the courtyard side by side, our feet clapping the marble walkway. Everything was very still. To be honest, I’d expected a few more soldiers.
“To be honest, I’d expected a few more soldiers,” said Selladore.
“I was just thinking that,” I replied, and then I said “Oh no, wait, there they all are,” because we rounded the corner and found several hundred men-at-arms being beaten senseless by a very large troll.
I don’t know if you’ve ever come across a rampaging troll before – certainly I hadn’t – but I feel that the experience can be most fairly summarised thusly: rubbish.
The troll stood some twenty feet tall and consisted of an enormous jiggling belly, elephantine thighs, thatch-haired forearms, and tusks; big, yellow tusks that were currently chomping happily on the leg of a squealing guard. As Selladore and I stood agape watching the battle unfold, by chance a young soldier was clubbed in our direction. He landed hard between us, and we helped him to his feet.
“Hello, young chap,” I began. “We were just wondering why there’s a very big troll here, in the palace, killing everyone?”
The soldier, breathless and dazed, looked at me through lidded eyes.
“He got in… through the sewer. Happens every now and… then. Just need to… just need to wrestle him back down. Yeah.”
The wobbly fellow made to head back to the fight, but I stopped him gently.
“Sorry, friend, but could we trouble you for one more piece of information? Which way to the Prince’s chambers, please?”
The young soldier gestured vaguely towards the west wing, then pointed to a tower raised high above.
“Top window. Yeah. Top window, matey. Okay. Okay. Buh-bye now.”
With that he staggered back into the fray and was immediately picked up by the troll and hurled over the palace walls into the distance. I turned to the beautiful pirate.
“Come Selladore, let us make our way to the Prince’s bedr–WHAAAAA SHITTING HELL!”
You know, there are several times in this story where I don’t really come off too well; I am aware of this. However, I hope you can appreciate my honesty in conveying such matters as truthfully as possible. Yes, perhaps it is not customary for gallant fairytale heroes to warble obscenities; perhaps it is not ‘cool’ for them to collapse in fear ‘neath a troll’s furious gaze; perhaps it is not particularly cinematic to see the protagonist of our tale fall arse over bosom in a fountain while scurrying to get away from a lumbering murdering chubgrunter; but the truth of the matter is: your hero, I, King Athelstan, did partake in each of these shameful actions. We can only hope that when the tapestries are made of my exploits, that the appointed weaver is both selective and kind.
It was only thanks to the bravery of dear Selladore that I was not mashed into a fine watery paste and distributed slowly throughout the palace’s extensive fountain system. Astra would have been sipping handfuls of her husband for years to come without ever realising it. Egad!
Thankfully, Selladore caught the troll’s flying fist as it raced towards my face, and with his whole body thrown before it, he managed to slow the punch so that I was merely absolutely lamped senseless, rather than completely pulverised.
The troll did not take kindly to Selladore’s interjection and backhanded him across the courtyard, where he clattered into a glass cabinet full of ornate-looking china plates that somebody had carelessly left out. The effect was a quite spectacular smash, and the troll seemed pleased. It lurched away momentarily to give the remaining handful of bedraggled soldiers a good hiding.
“Selladore,” I yelled across the expanse of mangled bodies, “I thank thee for saving mine life. Art thou of the belief that thou couldst slay this beast alone, were I to go on ahead to save my love?”
From across the courtyard I heard the pirate sigh.
“Fiiiine.”
“Thank you, my friend.”
I stood up and, to my immense disappointment, found that the troll’s massive fist had re-re-broken my nose, and it was now smeared across my face like an overenthusiastic squirt of ketchup. I winced as I did my best to realign it, failed miserably, then made a beeline for the western tower.
“Oh, matey?” called Selladore, just as I was ducking out of the courtyard. “You don’t happen to have a Sylvion sword, do ye? It’s wicked effective against mythical beasties!”
Oh, dash it all.
“Alas, my friend, I lost it ages ago. Good luck!”
And with that I slammed the door behind me and absolutely legged it into the depths of the palace.
*****
The sounds of the troll murdering everyone grew distant as I flew through the quiet corridors. There was a complete lack of signage, which I noticed with a trace of satisfaction. Everything in my palace was neatly signposted. Nobody ever got lost in my home.
I skidded around a corner and nearly took a little servant girl off her feet. I apologised profusely and knelt down so my face was level with hers.
“Hello my dear. Wouldst thou help a weary King? I’m trying to find the Prince’s bedchambers, and ideally a nearby bathroom, too – one with a big mirror and good lighting. Canst thou guide me, child?”
The little girl rubbed her grubby hands on her dress and curtseyed, then pointed down the corridor.
“S’the last door on the left. Winding staircase. He sleeps up there.”
“Marvellous, my child, marvellous. And, pray tell, has he company?” I enquired, trying to conceal my mania.
“I guess I saw a woman with him a few days ago.”
“BASTARD!”
Alas, my accidental scream seemed to startle the girl; she fell over. I helped her back up, apologising once more.
“My dear, I did not mean to startle you. I have been known to struggle with my emotions on occasion. Tell me, sweetling, just one more thing. This Prince Vena – is he more handsome than I?”
The little servant girl looked up into my eyes and I gazed into hers; eyes of purity and innocence. Oh the joy of youth! She took in my regal features, studying me intently, and finally, satisfied, looked down at her toes and wiped her nose on her sleeve.
“Yeah, I dunno, I guess he’s maybe more handsome or something.”
“RIGHT YOU LITTLE SHIT–”
Alas, the girl was too fast for me and so I could not give her a good smack. She was galloping away down the corridor before I could get after her.
I straightened and breathed slowly, counting to ten. I would need all my strength for my duel with ‘handsome’ Prince Vena. He couldn’t really be more handsome than I, could he? I advanced down the corridor but, finding no bathroom, had to make do with studying my reflection in the blade of my sword. I cringed upon witnessing the aftermath of the desecration of my royal conk. Yes, assuming that Vena had a nose, he probably was a good deal more handsome than I.
But all of this was of no importance. Astra loved me, not my nose. She was in danger and, by golly, I was going to give this Prince Vena a right good stabbing and get Astra home to our castle safe and sound. I wrenched open the door to the Prince’s tower, staggered a little due to the profuse bleeding from every orifice, and began my ascent.