Plight of the Maiden
A Saga of Slyfforic the Strong-ish
And sometimes thro' the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two:
She hath no loyal knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.
The Lady of Shalott, Alfred, Lord Tennyson
It was a tale as old as the oldest of fairy stories.
The headstrong and single-minded Lady Tiara of Eastvale was betrothed by her father - The Duke - to the unctuous Lord Snellinger. The two noble families had long been at odds with each other, and The Duke decided it was time for hostilities to cease. Indeed, the longstanding rivalry had cost him the lives of all six of his sons. The Lady Tiara was his only living child: She was to be the peace offering.
Tiara refused to cooperate.
The uncharitable Lord Snellinger was none too pleased when word of her rejection pealed within his unsympathetic ears. Determined to have what was promised to him, he raided The Duke’s castle at Eastburgh, and stole away with the famed beauty in the dead of night.
The bad news for Slyfforic the Strong-ish was that his beloved Pirate Queen bride had been ignominiously cannibalized during their calamitous expedition to Dread Hollow. The good news, however, was that Slyfforic had performed the requisite number of mighty deeds to advance to being the twelfth mightiest warrior of his Age Group. Thus, as tidings ranged throughout the land of a beautiful maiden held hostage by a villainous nobleman, Slyfforic was suitably qualified for the task.
High up in one of the many inhospitable towers of Lord Snellinger’s drooping castle, the Princess Tiara was perched on her windowsill - combing her sandy colored hair, and staring wistfully up at the infinite stars sparkling in the night sky. The moon was full, and its radiant light reflected in the ample tears that streamed from her hazel colored eyes. Tiara was not generally prone to despair, but she found it increasingly difficult to cling to any semblance of hope at being freed from her confinement. She had been Snellinger’s captive for nigh a fortnight: Where was her father? Where were his knights? Surely, the vile Lord Snellinger was not so mighty that The Duke lacked the fortitude to attempt a rescue of his cherished daughter.
Or, Tiara pondered, perhaps he is simply glad to be rid of me. After all, he was more than eager to sell me off like one of his prized heifers! At these dour ruminations, her resolve crumbled and she could no longer hold back the full weight of her misery.
“Oh, why meeee?!” she wailed pitifully into the sublime eventide air. Tiara was startled by the abrupt appearance of a giant, gauntleted hand grasping at the pockmarked flagstones of her windowsill. She stumbled backwards in shock: A shadowy, hulking form heaved itself up and over the ledge, lurching into her chambers. Candlelight reflected off a resplendent metal cuirass, with shimmering chainmail underneath. An elegant, massive claymore was sheathed across the mysterious figure’s broad shoulders. The specter stepped fully into the light, and Tiara expelled the breath she’d been holding with a sudden gasp of astonishment and exhilaration.
A giant of a man stood before her. He was strikingly handsome; possessing rich, brown hair and blue eyes that were bright, clever, and kind. She noted - with some alarm - that his armor was spattered with the unmistakable crimson hue of blood.
“Perhaps I could be of some assistance.” His deep voice rumbled off the cold and unwelcoming stone walls surrounding them.
“I beg your pardon?” Tiara rejoined uncertainly.
“I heard your cries of despair as I climbed the tower. Also, your father sent me: I’m here to rescue you.”
A sheepish grin spread across Tiara’s bonny face. “Ah, well, I’m sorry you had to hear that. To whom do I owe thanks for my freedom?”
“I am called Slyfforic the Strong-ish. Mayhaps you’ve heard tell of me?”
“Can’t say as I have, though I am but a silly girl, and not well versed in the deeds of mighty heroes.” Tiara blushed demurely as she spoke. The creaking wooden door to the chamber burst inwards before Slyfforic could respond. Lord Snellinger charged into the room, with half a dozen men-at-arms at his back.
“Unhand my betrothed, knave!” the pinched face nobleman bawled. “I may yet decide to let you live, lest you provoke me further!”
“Stand aside, my lady. I’ll deal with them.” Slyfforic positioned himself ahead of Tiara and brandished his two-handed sword. Lord Snellinger’s sour visage was twisted with contempt.
“Have it your way: Kill him!”
Slyfforic enthusiastically leapt to meet the guardsmen. Tiara couldn’t help but be enamored by the prodigious hero’s fluid, agile movements as he cleaved his way through her captors - hewing them from stem to stern. He saved Lord Snellinger for last.
Her erstwhile tormentor’s pathetic, agonizing cries would haunt Tiara to the end of her days.
They strolled along pleasantly cobbled streets. The ivory spires of Eastburgh Castle towered over them, shimmering resplendently by the light of a midday sun. Townsfolk regarded the duo with curiosity as they passed by: An indomitable giant escorting The Duke’s lithe, graceful daughter through the town’s idyllic avenues in the warmth of the afternoon.
Lady Tiara was none too eager to be returned to her father. He was, to her mind, solely to blame for her recent trials and tribulations.
“Must we go back?” she implored of Slyfforic, grasping firmly to his brawny left arm.
“I promised The Duke I would return you to Eastburgh.”
“Have you not?”
“Say what now?” Slyfforic questioned bemusedly.
“Have you not returned me to Eastburgh? Are we not in the midst of town?”
“Aye, I reckon that’s so.”
“And have you already been paid?”
“Not yet. I’m to deliver you to the castle first.”
“Are you in need of coin?”
“I suppose not,” Slyfforic conceded. “I’ve got a fair amount stashed away.”
“So, what would you rather possess - my love and devotion, or a pittance for a reward?”
Slyfforic the Strong-ish paused midstride, pondering the query. “In truth, I was recently freed from the burden of a committed relationship, and I’m in no great hurry to blunder into another: I’ll take the money.”
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This entire thing was a riot but that last line just about killed me! LMAO!
I snorted at the last line! Heh. I shall have to go find the other stories about him. I didn’t even notice the links. (Which, I believe you that they were there, I was just in story mode!)