Errol stopped playing his lyre and looked up. It was the boy. The Druid had deliberately camped a quarter-league away from the forest house, in hopes that the boy, not his mother, over-protective like a she-bear, would spy upon him. “I came here to find… Rowan. He’s a friend of mine,” he said.
“You knew him as L’ile,” the boy said matter-of-factly. It was not a guess – nor a question. Verily, the boy has seen his quarry – and had not merely chosen coincidental names for some imaginary friend.
“Yes, I did. By what name shall I call you?”
“I am Peredur. I am going to be a great knight someday. Someday soon.”
Errol smiled at the lad of no more than 11 years. Twas not beyond belief. Ywaine of Rhyged was already a knight at a similar age.
“I doubt it not, though your mother may.”
“She is still mad at my father,” Peredur said, “for leaving her. But I think it was some wizard’s fault, not his.”
“Mayhap it is,” Peredur agreed. “Where is Rowan – L’ile – now?”
“He’s right here, beside me,” Peredur announced. “Can’t you see him?”
Errol smiled. “He cannot be seen, unless he wishes to be seen,” he said to Peredur. “L’ile? Why dost thou not show thyself to me, your friend Errol?” he called out in the direction Peredur gestured.
Peredur giggled.
Errol’s face his none of his confusion and exasperation.
“He says we have a quest to fulfill before you will know why,” the boy said. “I have stowed away a sword and shield by yonder knoll. Come, let us go forth!”
Peredur plodded forward, looking perplexed when Errol hesitated to follow.
Errol was at a loss – mayhap the child was lost in imagination ere all? But he had come this far; he may as well continue.
“Tell me then, my friend. What is our quest?”
Peredur reached his cache and removed a short sword, nay a dirk – one that has been tinged on one edge by rust. The shield, but an armlet, really, was little better.
“They’re not much, tis true. But they are the best I have found, since my mother destroyed my last set of metals.” He put his dirk into a makeshift scabbard, a fragment of leather that was probably once a boot, as solemnly as he imagined a true knight would. He slung the shield over his shoulder, and picked up a small pack of provisions. He turned to errol with a look that said, “let’s go.”
“Our quest, good sir knight?” Errol asked once again.
“Rowan tells me we have a princess to rescue! Let us go north!”
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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sorry, Karie (and anyone else lurking in), but grad school has been pretty dang busy. I do plan to get back to this someday... maybe as soon as May, knock on wood.
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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PS is was a nice surprise seeing this on page one, just taking a glance at Bit for the first time in ages.
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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