Difference between revisions of "BurrBramble"

Latest revision as of 04:58, 28 April 2007

Written and as told by Steorling Heron

The forest path lay damp yet from the dews as Sir Reginald walked his pure white charger along the margin of the wood and scented the air keenly. Every button and buckle shined to gleaming and his chainmail radiated from under his tunic marked by the hart with silvery light. “What is that foulness?” he spoke aloud to no one in particular. He unhitched his sword by a hand’s span and then looked about critically.
“Show yourself,” he demanded, “What ever beast you be.”
She didn’t show herself. Had learned better than that with Sir Guy. That was never a good idea.
“Just me,” she said quietly, “Don’t bother about little old me.”
Sir Reginald cringed at the sound of her voice but seemed to recognize some feminine quality at least and tried to force a winsome smile.
“Come, what keeps you in this dread part of the forest?” he said, “Be you old crone or sickly leper you aren’t safe here. Follow me and I will lead you to civilization.”
“Civilization and I don’t get along, sir,” she sighed, “Perhaps some other day. Ride on.” He held his place a moment, considering, and then inched his steed around the smallish stand of trees where the voice seemed to reside.
“Good heavens,” he gulped on see the towering creature who moved, shuffling about the tree trunks, “Are you aware you’re not wearing any clothes?”
“It hadn’t escaped my notice,” she spoke glumly as she ducked behind more of the undergrowth.
“And why have you such a strange color?” he asked, his face crinkled up unpleasantly.
“I’m an ogre, sir,” she spoke dully.
“An ogre?” he said.
“Well, an ogress, more precisely,” she spoke and then waved him away with a heavy hand, “Now you know, you may get back to whatever sirs do.”
He seemed to consider a moment more and she looked a little abashed at his study.
“Well, I cannot leave you in such dire circumstance truly,” he seemed befuddled, “Who has turned you into an ogre? I will see about breaking this spell at once.”
“No, you don’t understand,” she said with another sigh, “No spell, I’m simply an ogress. Can’t be undone.”
He looked at her coolly a moment and then narrowed his eyes at her.
“You’re absolutely sure?” he said, “I knew a sea turtle who was a princess once but she didn’t know it for the curse had amnesial qualities to it.”
“Positive,” she said and then with another near groan she curled her large proportions about themselves until she was a great seated hill all her own.
The knight’s steady charger balked and he reined him in.
“How do you know?” he asked.
She looked at him with penetrating but dull brown eyes almost yellow and then seemed to smile to herself, a thing most grotesque, but still somehow compelling.
“It’s only, and don’t take this wrong,” he said, “But you seem as though you might have nice proportions were you human. Are you positive there isn’t some way to take you down a few sizes?”
“Thank you, but no,” she said quietly as she laid her cheek against her fist.
“Too bad that,” he said finally and then touched the flanks of his steed with his spurs and began a careful trot away from her as though wishing not to offend.
“Well, good luck,” he said mechanically and then rode away.