Deed of Valor long
benstroking
Published
03/22/2009
In times of yore knights roamed the countryside in search of deeds of valor to perform. On one such occasion a brave knight and his two young servants were progressing along a little traveled country road when, upon topping a crest, they could hear a small, faint voice crying out in the distance, “Help me! Please, someone, help me!”
Spurring his trusty steed into a full gallop the noble knight charged forward leaving his two pages to catch up with him as best they could. As he rounded a curve in the road he stopped in the clearing into which he rode and looked out across the landscape directly at a large unkempt castle.
The walls were sagging, the ramparts were tattered and the draw bridge , though rotten in places, lay open and unguarded. In fact, the castle grounds and surrounding area looked as if it had been abandoned for years. Yet in the nearest tower the knight could see a beautiful young woman, her hair glistening in the light and her elegant dress allowing her ample bosom to fall, but not quite, from its caress. She, too, could see him.
“Oh, brave sir,” she begged in a voice soft as an early morning mist, “please come and rescue me from this terrible fate which has befallen me.”
“The castle is abandoned, m’lady.” stated the knight. “Why dost thou not walk out of the tower and out the gate?”
“Woulds’t that I could,” she replied “but 'tis guarded by something fierce.”
The brave knight stood proud in his stirrups. “Nothing so fierce as to stop me from establishing your freedom.” With this the knight urged his mount towards the draw bridge. As he neared the bridge, a large orange hand with long yellow fingers covered in green moss and tipped with razor-sharp brown nails rose from the moat and swiped the knight’s trusted mount from beneath him and throwing him to the ground with a loud clang of armor.
It was at this time the knight’s two loyal charges came upon the scene. “Stay and watch over the fair maiden,” said the knight to his wards, “while I go to gather assistance to distract this un-noble thing so that I may enter the castle and rescue the girl.” With that he left and walked to the nearest village.
He returned the next day followed by 99 villagers. “I shall set 33 each to assault the other three sides of the castle at the same instant,” he said confidently. “This should keep the wicked thing busy defending against the assaults while I run rapidly into the courtyard and into the tower.”
When he gave the order, all 99 men swarmed toward the castle’s moat. Before the shining knight could take his first step, the orange hand with long yellow fingers covered in green moss and tipped with razor-sharp brown nails rose from the moat and, quicker than the eye could follow, beheaded and emboweled the peasants and came to rest directly over the draw bridge, nails firmly embedded to their finger tips, which were spread barely enough through which a small lamb might pass.
The brave knight stood in shocked awe of the sight, trembling a slight bit. “All is lost I’m afraid, my young knaves. We can do no more here. We must admit our defeat and travel on to find other adventure.”
“Please, sir, if I may,” spoke one of his aides meekly, “might we try and save the maiden?”
“What!?” cried the knight in disbelief. “You two? Against that which slay 99 brave souls without mercy in a mere flash? How do you think you can be victorious?”
“Do we not have to fight bravely against all odds to avenge wrongs; and do battle with, nay, conquer iniquitous evils in order to become knights ourselves?” the other brave lad spoke. “Let this be our first of what may be many challenges. We would like to try, m’lord.”
“So be it.” the knight said urging them onward with a slight flick of his hand.
Shaking with fear and anticipation the two tiny children approached the drawbridge. The orange hand with long yellow fingers covered in green moss and tipped with razor-sharp brown nails didn’t move. Slowly and with great resolve the two youngsters eased themselves through the fingers and into the courtyard. Gathering strength in their getting this far the boys literally ran up the stairs of the tower, opened the unlocked door, picked up the young woman and carried her down the stairs, out of the courtyard, across the draw bridge and brazenly through the outstretched fingers of the moat creature.
The elated group of four made their way out of the clearing and soon arrived at another castle. This one, they were told, was the home of the maiden, who was the daughter of the king of the land. Upon seeing his daughter’s safe return and hearing the story of her salvation the king immediately granted knighthood upon the two young pages making them knights of his realm, giving both marvelous armor, superb weapons and splendid stallions. The noble knight and the fair princess were soon wed.
The moral of this story? Let your pages do the walking through the yellow fingers.
Spurring his trusty steed into a full gallop the noble knight charged forward leaving his two pages to catch up with him as best they could. As he rounded a curve in the road he stopped in the clearing into which he rode and looked out across the landscape directly at a large unkempt castle.
The walls were sagging, the ramparts were tattered and the draw bridge , though rotten in places, lay open and unguarded. In fact, the castle grounds and surrounding area looked as if it had been abandoned for years. Yet in the nearest tower the knight could see a beautiful young woman, her hair glistening in the light and her elegant dress allowing her ample bosom to fall, but not quite, from its caress. She, too, could see him.
“Oh, brave sir,” she begged in a voice soft as an early morning mist, “please come and rescue me from this terrible fate which has befallen me.”
“The castle is abandoned, m’lady.” stated the knight. “Why dost thou not walk out of the tower and out the gate?”
“Woulds’t that I could,” she replied “but 'tis guarded by something fierce.”
The brave knight stood proud in his stirrups. “Nothing so fierce as to stop me from establishing your freedom.” With this the knight urged his mount towards the draw bridge. As he neared the bridge, a large orange hand with long yellow fingers covered in green moss and tipped with razor-sharp brown nails rose from the moat and swiped the knight’s trusted mount from beneath him and throwing him to the ground with a loud clang of armor.
It was at this time the knight’s two loyal charges came upon the scene. “Stay and watch over the fair maiden,” said the knight to his wards, “while I go to gather assistance to distract this un-noble thing so that I may enter the castle and rescue the girl.” With that he left and walked to the nearest village.
He returned the next day followed by 99 villagers. “I shall set 33 each to assault the other three sides of the castle at the same instant,” he said confidently. “This should keep the wicked thing busy defending against the assaults while I run rapidly into the courtyard and into the tower.”
When he gave the order, all 99 men swarmed toward the castle’s moat. Before the shining knight could take his first step, the orange hand with long yellow fingers covered in green moss and tipped with razor-sharp brown nails rose from the moat and, quicker than the eye could follow, beheaded and emboweled the peasants and came to rest directly over the draw bridge, nails firmly embedded to their finger tips, which were spread barely enough through which a small lamb might pass.
The brave knight stood in shocked awe of the sight, trembling a slight bit. “All is lost I’m afraid, my young knaves. We can do no more here. We must admit our defeat and travel on to find other adventure.”
“Please, sir, if I may,” spoke one of his aides meekly, “might we try and save the maiden?”
“What!?” cried the knight in disbelief. “You two? Against that which slay 99 brave souls without mercy in a mere flash? How do you think you can be victorious?”
“Do we not have to fight bravely against all odds to avenge wrongs; and do battle with, nay, conquer iniquitous evils in order to become knights ourselves?” the other brave lad spoke. “Let this be our first of what may be many challenges. We would like to try, m’lord.”
“So be it.” the knight said urging them onward with a slight flick of his hand.
Shaking with fear and anticipation the two tiny children approached the drawbridge. The orange hand with long yellow fingers covered in green moss and tipped with razor-sharp brown nails didn’t move. Slowly and with great resolve the two youngsters eased themselves through the fingers and into the courtyard. Gathering strength in their getting this far the boys literally ran up the stairs of the tower, opened the unlocked door, picked up the young woman and carried her down the stairs, out of the courtyard, across the draw bridge and brazenly through the outstretched fingers of the moat creature.
The elated group of four made their way out of the clearing and soon arrived at another castle. This one, they were told, was the home of the maiden, who was the daughter of the king of the land. Upon seeing his daughter’s safe return and hearing the story of her salvation the king immediately granted knighthood upon the two young pages making them knights of his realm, giving both marvelous armor, superb weapons and splendid stallions. The noble knight and the fair princess were soon wed.
The moral of this story? Let your pages do the walking through the yellow fingers.
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