LC#4 - Tales from the Round Table, PG (Disguise, Teacher, Crossover)
ENTRY 4, LONG CHALLENGE 1
Title: Tales from the Round Table
Themes and/or Prompt/s: Disguise, Teacher, Crossover
Rating: PG
Word count: 6, 832
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Gwen, OC/OC
Spoilers/Warnings: None really. It’s set in pretty vague future.
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, BBC and its creators do. I do not own the Cadbury Tales, that whoever has the rights to Geoffrey Chaucer’s works. I do not own Arthurian myth, Britain does.
Summary: This tale is from a long, long time ago. Long before any of us came to be, even before Camelot came to be.
Author’s notes: This was beta-ed by rainbow_connection (thank you :D). Also, this can be tricky to read the stories within this work- bold italic text is the narrator’s voice and POV, bold text is additional details to the story and what is not being told to the audience, the regular text in parentheses is audience POV.
Also, this is a Work-In-Progress, and will be finished.
Though no one quite knew how it came to be a tradition, they did know when it began. It was after the king and queen exchanged vows and retired from all other company, the sorcerer and the knights gathered around with wine and ale and talked endlessly or have not a word pass. Some years later, the king and queen joined their festivities that happened to coincide with the anniversary of their wedding. As time went on, the party expanded to include new friends, spouses, and children. They would all meet at some undisclosed locale (usually a tavern) and, with some ale and food; they would do whatever it was they ended up doing all night till the morning hours. It was usually dancing, conversing, and drinking.
And so it was when day turned to twilight, King Arthur and Queen Guinevere met their party outside in a fairly lonely corner of the courtyard. A small fire roared cheerfully, united by dancing shadows though their originators were sitting down. Perched alongside her husband, Gwen observed the ones who were less sedentary.
Over by the left, excited by the privilege of staying up late, her youngest boy Duran and his friends chased each other around in a sort of game that usually ended with a multitude of injuries. Her brother Sir Elyan came by then and gathered them around to go on a “mission,” preventing any further trouble. Of course, the boys soon argued which imaginary fiend they would slay.
There was also Vivienne, going around and fetching foodstuff and ale.
“Thank you love,” Merlin said as Viviane handed him a mug. His daughter hummed a ‘you’re welcome’ and walked off. Merlin later saw her take a seat beside Sir Lanval, a young knight. His eyes widen as he saw his little girl laugh and whisper with the young man.
He hurried over to Arthur’s side, and in a nerve-racked voice asked, “Arthur, what do you know about Sir Lanval?”
“He is from the southern borders,” Arthur replied distractedly.
“And how old is he?”
“What? About twenty-two, twenty-three? He’s of age.”
“What else? Good family, responsible, quite possibly a eunuch?”
Irritated over the seemingly meaningless string of questions, Arthur rebuked, “Merlin, how is any of that your business?”
“He’s flirting with my daughter. That’s how it is my business.”
Gwen then intervened, also seeing the sweethearts, “He is a kind, responsible boy, Merlin. He was a great help during the siege.”
Merlin left the royal couple in a mild sulk, and plotted a way to go to his daughter while not being too obvious to his reason why. Before Arthur and Gwen resume being relaxed with each other again, Lancelot came by, his young son Galahad close at his side. As always he greeted, “Good evening, your Highnesses.”
They nodded in acknowledgement.
“Your wife could not make it?” Arthur asked.
“No, she’s with the girls. They are recovering from a cough.” Lancelot replied.
“Give her, and the girls our regard,” Gwen said, then lowered her gaze to Galahad, “And here is Galahad, how are you, child?”
Before, Galahad was silent and looked down at his feet. Once addressed to, the child ducked behind his father.
“Go on, son, be polite.” Lancelot gently coaxed his painfully shy boy to the front.
Galahad managed a quiet hello. Gwen, with a warm smile, rewarded him with a berry tart that he cautiously accepted. The father and son then took a seat beside Sir Gwaine and Prince Llacheu (called Jack), whom Galahad scooted closer to and leaned on comfortably.
Then Duran popped over to his parents, with a few other children following behind.
“Father, can you tell us about the labyrinth?” the young prince implored of his father.
“The labyrinth?” questioned Arthur quizzically.
“Yes, the one where you saved Merlin and brought the unicorn back to life!”
“I want to know how ugly the Troll Queen was. Merlin said that he had to speak in strange tongues to drive her off,” Robert, Sir Bor’s son, spoke out.
“No, they had to get the old king to cry to break her spell and defeat her. You’re talking about Merlin confronting the Great Dragon,” corrected young Peter, Sir Gaheris’ boy.
“Wait- who told you all this?” asked Arthur of the children.
“Merlin,” they all said as one.
Arthur shot an irritable look at his friend and advisor, only to find that Merlin’s attention was still occupied with his daughter and her present company. So he grabbed the man’s tunic and pulled him over.
“You told them about the unicorn? And the troll and the dragon attack?” Arthur faced the all powerful sorcerer.
“What?” Merlin shrugged off the hand and had Arthur free him from his grip, “I made you out to be very heroic in those accounts.”
“Those tales are not for children,” Arthur countered.
“Oh please, Arthur, be glad I did not tell them of your bout with the love spell, or the donkey ears, or even when you got shot with…”
“Merlin…”
“What I am saying is that my tales are very tame and are too suitable for children.”
“What’s going on gentlemen?” asked Elyan coming right behind Duran.
“You brother-in-law and sovereign of the land wished to censor me and save the boys from corrupting tales,” replied Merlin.
“Corrupting tales? Well, the evening is turning tedious, so why not tell us one?”
Duran’s face broke into a smile, “Yes! A story, Father.”
Robert and Peter joined in the enthusiastic pleas and demands for a story. Then Will, Lady Clara’s son, and his sister Sally. Then Lucan and Lionel, Sir Leon’s boys and then…all the children were demanding.
Arthur, knowing that there was no helping it, smirked, “Since Merlin was the one to begin this, why doesn’t he start us off?”
The children gathered around the sorcerer and sat down with eyes and ears all on him.
“Fine, the tournament was quite near, and we were patrolling…”
“I would prefer it not be one of our own,” interrupted Arthur.
The sorcerer frowned at his king. His mind searched for a story one that had nothing to do with him. And then old scrolls and their faded words came to him and he smiled.
“Alright, this tale is from a long, long time ago. Long before any of us came to be, even before Camelot came to be. “
The Wizard’s Duel
When the kingdom was a mere millennium old, there was a great wizard who had no equal in wisdom and magic.
An old man stands at the center of a grand and ancient court. He is humbly robed, but his expression is noble. What is more, everyone around him honor him with respect and reverence.
And his name was…umm…blast it, forgot. Let’s call him Ambrosia.
(Arthur rolled his eyes as he went back to Gwen’s side. Gwen let out a soft chuckle. Everyone else either ignored the statement or snickered at the expense of their storyteller)
Now Ambrosia was a teacher of kings and under his tutelage was a young prince, the only child and heir of his father the king. And the boy very much needed the education and guidance.
The wizard is lecturing to an adolescent boy of fair hair and clear blue eyes and a smug fool-hardy disposition.
One day, the prince was in an aggravating state and argued with his instructor.
“Why do I need all these books, and writing and all this nonsense when I should go out and fight for my people?” the prince asked.
“Knowledge and the ability to apply it will be worth more to your people, young sire.” Ambrosia answered.
“I was born a prince. I will learn what I need to know, when I need to know it.” The prince said.
“Will you now?”
The prince pointed to the sky and said, “The birds cannot read, yet they can fly and know which tree to nest and where to go when hungry or cold.”
Ambrosia was then inspired. You see, the prince was a hardheaded child, and sometimes he needed more than words to understand something. So Ambrosia turned the prince into a bird, a small grey sparrow.
(“He turned the prince into a bird?” Arthur raised his eyebrows.
“Father, please,” Duran shushed his father.)
Yes, and Ambrosia assigned the prince to learn how to fly. As it turned out, while he had the wings, the prince did not know how to use them. So the wizard charged his familiar, an owl, to teach him. And the owl taught the sparrow prince as any bird is taught - he pushed him off a high place with his wings spread out. The owl flew along with the sparrow, and corrected his position with the wings, how to use his tail feathers and all what birds needed to know.
The owl is tan-colored and a grouchy character, flying alongside a tiny sparrow that is so clumsy that it’s a wonder he hasn’t crashed. The owl constantly fly around the little sparrow pointing with his beak at the tail, and the wings, and the talons, and repeats until the little sparrow finally got it.
The sparrow, though exhausted with the knowledge just given to him, soon appreciated the art of flying. But as the sparrow and owl flew, a hawk spotted them. And it swooped in to snatch the sparrow, but he was alerted by the owl. Barely escaping the hawk’s talons, he fell into the forest, in the densest part, darkest part. After diving and being surrounded by trees, he finally fell into a chimney. And he fell through the chute and landed in a pile of ashes with a cottage kitchen before him. He was in trouble now. Well more trouble.
The sparrow, now covered in soot, coughs up a ruckus and it catches someone’s attention - a large human someone.
(“Where was he Merlin?” asked Robert, “Will he get cooked in a soup?”)
Worse child. Even the hawk chasing him paled in comparison to the danger he was about to have. He was in the home of the dreadful witch…Martha.
Sitting down playing cards cheerfully, is the witch. Besides the tattered dress and the unruly shock of white hair, she resembles a sweet old grandmother - albeit a murderous one.
Martha was a powerful witch but she dwelled on worthless pursuits. This was because she reveled in wicked things, taking joy in misery. For her, bad was good and good was bad.
So when she saw the tiny sparrow in her home, she mused that it was sickly or dead. But then the sparrow spoke. Now the prince did not know of Martha’s reputation, and he revealed not only that he was a human prince but that he was a student of Ambrosia. Nothing gave Martha more pleasure than to thwart any good Ambrosia was doing. So she decided to kill the prince.
(“She isn’t very nice.” Duran said.
“She’s an evil witch, of course she isn’t nice.” Gwydre told his brother.)
That’s right, she was also a little mad - to kill the prince and to have a bit of fun, she turned into a cat and chased the sparrow all around the cottage. But before she could strike him down, Ambrosia burst in and stopped her.
Ambrosia burst open the door in a magical whirlwind. He is very crossed and with the point of his finger, he change Martha back into a human. The two elderly people stare at each with dangerous intent, but Martha eventually relents and hands over the sparrow prince to the wizard.
(“How did he know to find her?” asked Sally.
“How did he know that the prince was in trouble?” Duran questioned.
“Maybe he looked at a crystal ball,” Gwen replied softly, “he was a great wizard, remember?”)
Actually, the owl told him.
The owl flies in and perch on Ambrosia’s shoulder.
Martha, not wanting to lose, challenged Ambrosia to a wizard’s duel and he accepted.
(“What’s a wizard’s duel?”)
That’s what the prince asked and the owl explained- it’s a battle of wits, when two people of magic transformed into various things to destroy each other, and its finished when one ultimately outdo the other.
The two birds perch on a tree branch from a safe distance from the two duelists and see them shake hands. Then Martha points to something and Ambrosia turns away to see it.
And so it started. Martha set the rules- the object they would transform will only be elements of nature, no other beings of magic and no disappearing.
The birds screech to the wizard and he turns back to see her gone, becomes irritated.
The thing is Martha loved to cheat and knew Ambrosia would never cheat. No sooner Ambrosia turned his head, she disappeared. She reappeared behind his back, as a crocodile. With her powerful jaws she struck a chomp on his head. But Ambrosia also transformed as a turtle and bit her toe or whatever crocodiles have on their feet. Martha limped after him.
Knowing that he was too slow to outrun her, Ambrosia changed into a hare and sped away. Well, Martha was having none of it, so she turned into a wily fox and the two raced- the fox ran for the win while the hare ran for his life. Ambrosia then spotted a hollow log and went in there, with Martha following.
(“Well that wasn’t so smart,” Gwydre said.)
You think so? Well, it just so happened that the old man had a plan. In the darkness of the log, Ambrosia changed into a tiny caterpillar and slinked out through a small hole.
The caterpillar escapes through the hole, but an inhuman eye peeks out and sees him.
(“That was smart!”)
Yes, good plan. Bad thing Martha caught him and because foxes have no interest in caterpillars, she turned into a chicken. She chased after the relatively slow but squirming bug, pecking away. She finally caught his tail and flung him in the air. She opened her beak wide for him to land and be swallowed.
(“Nooo!” cried all the children, even quiet Galahad.)
Now wait. Ambrosia did start to fall and came down, but he landed as a walrus.
(“A walrus?”)
It’s this big whiskered beast of the sea. They’re kind of like sea cows. And this large sea cow landed on the chicken. Not wanting to be outdone in size, Martha turned into an elephant.
(“They’re bigger than a walrus?”)
You’ve seen the sketches, they are very big. This was very true of Martha, the elephant. She grabbed Ambrosia, the walrus, with her powerful trunk - it’s this long tube-like snout - ready to teach him a lesson. But these thick-skinned giants had a fear. And Ambrosia turned into just that.
(“What was it?”)
He became a mouse, a field mouse to be exact.
The field mouse, clutched in the strong trunk, sticks out its tongue and wobbles its furry face.
The elephant was terrified, dropped the evil little thing and tore off. The mouse was pretty proud of himself, but then he had to tear off. This was because she turned into mouse’s worst nightmare- a lioness.
Ambrosia then went to a patch of ground where holes were all over. Deciding to outwit the lioness, the mouse crawled into a hole. As Martha tried to pick him out with a claw, Ambrosia came out through another hole, behind her. He then decided to bite her tail. Well, Martha caught him, again, and turned into the mouse’s other nightmare- a snake. When she was about to strike, the mouse held her tail end in the direction of her fangs, and she bit herself instead. As she recoiled in pain, the mouse jumped back into the hole. The snake followed to trap him, but Ambrosia blocked the hole with a rock. He then ran to the other entrance, knowing Martha had no choice but to go there. And when she popped her serpent head out, she scarcely had to duck back in and avoid the giant pincher belonging to the crab Ambrosia turned into. So she kept trying to escape and he kept trying to chop off her head, until he did catch something. It was not her serpent head, but a horn.
Martha emerged out of the ground as a rhino - it’s like an elephant, but it ears are small and pointy and its smaller in size. And it has a huge horn on top of its snout. With the crab holding on to her horn, hopeless and dangling, she charged straight into a tree and crushed the crab.
At the last moment, just before the rhino collided with the tree, the crab let go of the horn and flew off into the air. Martha was so stunned by the reckless display that she crashed into the tree, getting caught into the trunk.
Finally fed up with the witch, Ambrosia turned into a goat. Then he charged straight at her end and the tree, and head butted her off the small cliff the tree was planted. And so Martha fell from the cliff and into the lake below. But she was not done yet.
The goat looks down from the cliff, and sees the lake still. The waters tremble and smoke rise. Then something big comes up from the water, something big and terrible and purple.
No, because Martha changed into a dragon- a large, vicious, fire breathing dragon. The goat, seeing her claws and her fire, ran for safety, but the dragon simply blew her breath, trapping him. At her mercy and in her claws, it seemed Ambrosia lost.
(The children all leaned forward, eyes wide and trembling in anticipation.)
But when the dragon opened her forepaw, she found Ambrosia gone.
(“Did he disappear?” Sally gasped.
“I bet he turn into a flea.” Gwydre whispered to Sir Percival.)
“No,” Ambrosia told the perplexed witch that was not the case.
“I have transformed myself into another element of nature- I am illness and you caught me.”
This was true, because the dragon began to shiver, and cough and sneeze- it was a very bad cold. And she collapse, feeling weak and very awful, and not the kind of awful she liked. The witch was put to bed to recover and subjected to plenty of sunshine - which she abhorred. And after being taught a lesson, Martha caused no more trouble - at least not on a grand scale.
Martha is in bed with blankets piled on her and sun rays beaming on her, and she lies in there like an angry child.
And the prince, back in human form, came back to his kingdom with Ambrosia and the owl. The boy learned a valuable lesson - that knowledge and wisdom was indeed the real power. And he was better for it.
Ambrosia and the prince walk out of the forest and into the sunset; the owl flies by and land on the prince’s shoulder.
So concludes the tale of the wizard Ambrosia.
The children cheered and their elders clapped heartily. To both, Merlin nodded appreciatively. Of course, his oldest friend had to be critical.
“That was ridiculous, Merlin.” Arthur interrupted the applause. “Where did you get that tale?”
“From a scroll in the library,” Merlin replied, “and it is not ridiculous, the children enjoyed it.”
“It was a good story, Father,” Duran interjected.
“Fine that maybe so, but a sorcerer who turns a prince into a wild animal just to teach some moral?”
A moment pass, and Arthur noticed something - Merlin had a look on his face, the one he had whenever he did something his king would not like, but did anyway and without any detection. He also saw Jack lowered his gaze, Gwydre sardonically rolled his eyes, and Duran smiled his ‘I promised not to tell, so please don’t ask’ smile.
“Merlin,” Arthur began, in a tone that was low near growling, “Have you been turning my children into beasts as part of their tutelage?”
Merlin replied with the grace of a headstrong mouse facing a large cat “What? Noooo…never…” He turned his head and saw a potential savior or temporary distraction, either way he had to take it, “Gwaine. Why not tell a tale of yours?”
Sir Gwaine got up from his place and swaggered over to the center with Merlin. Once Merlin took his seat - which was partly obscured behind Lancelot and Jack, and quite a distance from Arthur and Gwen - and Gwaine was alone in the center, he bowed low and spectacularly without spilling his ale.
“Gwaine, as much as we enjoy your stories, please be mindful of the children.” Lancelot cautioned, with no indication that he was jesting.
“I am very mindful of the children,” Gwain quipped, with every indication of jest.
“Gwaine,” Gwen then said, with the knight listening, “I believe many of the parents would appreciate that you take care of what you tell in the company of the children.”
A bit of murmuring came out of the party, mostly from the younger ones- Gwydre scoffed, “Mother,” coupled by sighs of relief from their parents.
“Of course, milady,” Gwaine smiled with all sincerity he was capable of.
Gwen kept her stern gaze at the knight, and then went on, “No drinking, gambling, or taverns.”
Gwaine nodded.
The queen breathed and went on. “No brothels, cage matches, or women.”
Gwaine shoulders slightly slumped and was quite defeated.
“Are we clear?”
Without much ceremony, Gwaine reassured, “I will be nothing but virtuous to the young ears.”
“Then carry on,” the queen reclined in her seat.
Then he began, “This tale I heard from a good woman from the coast of Bath.”
The Knight and the Hag
There once a knight who was exceptional in chivalry and court.
There in a tournament ring, garbed in shiny armor, stands the young knight- sturdily built, fair with a handsome face, and blue eyes. There, another knight coming from behind, but he easily fights him off, and puts his opponent to the ground. The crowd cheers uproariously.
Then one day, the young knight struck down and killed a lord who challenged him to a duel- now because of present company, I cannot say the reason why the challenge was made, so let’s just it was over a certain lady.
An older man interrupts the knight, in a passionate embrace with a richly dressed and pretty courtier. The lady becomes frightened, and the older gentleman is so furious that he tries to kill the knight.
Because the lord was of a higher station than the knight, he was brought before the court.
The knight stands before the court in chains, and a bit nervous, while the pretty courtier stands in the crowd dramatically wearing black and crying piteously.
There he faced trial, and most certain execution. But as it so happened, the court was led by a queen.
Before the knight, the queen sits on her grand throne. She is dignified, alluring, and garbed in red. She studies the defendant.
The queen was not in want to waste his comely looks, so she gave the knight a chance to spare his neck.
‘Return here in a year and a day- no later, no sooner- and stand before your queen with an answer, your life will be spared. If not, well I am sure you are aware of the protocol.’
While the knight, as all of knights, did not fear death. However, he did prefer it to come in some glorious manner in the midst of a battlefield, or, if he could not have that, of old age.
So, the knight said to his queen, “I accept this task set before me, and do swear that I will return in the time allotted. May I ask, what is this riddle which the queen desires me to solve and answer?”
To this the queen replied, “Only this- what is the one thing that all women truly desire.”
At this, the knight is taken aback, and his face contorts in perplexity, while he is silently screaming, ‘WHAT?’
“Remember, good knight, you have a year and a day. Now, off you go,” quipped the queen, shooing him off. Once released from his bonds, and then went on his way.
Thus, the knight searched day and night, night and day, for the answer to the queen’s riddle, and his escape from the chopping block. He recited the riddle to every woman in the kingdom, and then in the bordering kingdoms, then North to South, then East to West and everywhere in between, he posed this riddle to women.
The knight, with his horse at his side, addresses a noble born British woman, then a farmer’s wife, next a huntress covered in blue pigmentation, then a lady covered in a veil, and a woman in a turban, one with a nose ring and white robe. They, each of them, have a different answer, or none at all, and he leaves disappointed after each interview.
Everywhere he went, he asked the riddle of every person he encountered. Because every person had a different answer to the riddle, he found no answer. Sometimes, it was fame and fortune; others said it was honor and respectability. Still others said that it was happiness and laughter, later he was told that it was fine clothes and rare gems. Some even said that it was to have a good time.
(“‘A good time?’ Like a playing a good game?” interjected Prince Doran.
“Sure, why not,” replied Gwaine, mindful of his parents, while Doran’s brothers snickered in the background.)
Then he was told it was constant flattery, to always be the center of attention and be told that she was beautiful, good and wise. Then there was the extremely close response of being free to do whatever she pleases without a man scolding her. Others believed that women wanted to be seen as confidants and secret keepers - but since when has a women ever kept a secret for longer than a day?
(“Present company excluded, of course,” Gwaine said nodding to his own queen.)
A year had passed with only a day left, and the knight was still no closer to finding the answer than when he started his search for the solution to the queen’s riddle. But, he promised his queen that he would return, so he made his way back to court and tried not to think about the chopping block and its accompanying executioner. As he was riding along the edge of the forest, he saw a strange sight before him.
The knight sees a small figure amongst the trees. Curious, he goes in to investigate. He finds that it is a child with a piercing gaze and no goal to hide from him. The child then trots off and the knight follow, until he is led to a bonfire and strange creatures.
There before him, was a troupe of faerie. In a circle, without inhibition, were faerie women dancing.
Surrounded by trees, one woman was clad in deep green, and was tall and striking, with long, black curls. Another is in pure white, also dark-haired, but slimmer and sharp. The third dressed in sky-blue, fair-skinned, and cheerful. The last is clothed rough rusty red with unruly dark locks, waif-like and the most uninhibited in her dancing.
Seeing the faerie woman, the knight quickly rode to them, hoping against hope that one may have the answer.
The faerie women stop dancing and greet the knight.
But the faerie women did not.
The knight hangs his head in despair as the women shook their heads no. Before they leave though, the striking one in green goes to a tall lanky faerie. She whispers in his ear. They share a smile and he comes up to the knight.
Then one faerie appeared to him and said, “There is one who has your answer.”
The knight demanded, “Who would that be? Tell me.”
“Stay a little longer and you will meet an elderly woman. She knows much and credit to your sort, she was never wrong before.”
The faerie then leaves and the knight is alone.
As soon as the faerie left, an old hag appeared.
A crouched over figure dressed in a ragged yellow cloak huddles by.
The knight saw her looks- ancient and hideous as death.
The hag is indeed ugly. To call her homily would be kindness. She had thinning white hair and not teeth. She is wrinkled and cracked and deep crags go over her sockets, hiding her eyes. This woman did not lead a gentle life and it’s shown from her twisted hands and her worn out face.
But the knight ignored this and asked her, “Good mother, I was told to wait for a wise woman who may help me. Are you she?”
“All women can be wise in their own way, but I am here. What is ailing you?”
“A riddle Good Mother- one that the answer to means my neck. If you have the answer and give it to me, I will do anything, give anything you ask.”
“Anything- I’ll hold you to that. First, what is this riddle that’s life and death for you?”
“What is the one thing that all women desire?”
The hag smiled, showing red raw gums and four teeth, “Do not fear Sir Knight, you will not die, because I swear on my life that the queen will agree to this answer. In fact, women will agree to this answer.”
“Really?” The knight felt his hope returning.
“Really, but first your offer in return- you said that you would do anything I ask, correct? Well one day I will ask and you will do. Do I have your word?”
“Yes, I will honor my word.”
“Good- Now here is the answer.”
The hag crooks her spiny finger for the knight to bend down to her level. He obeys.
She then whispers it in his ear.
The knight unfurls and says to the hag, “That’s it? That’s… actually makes a lot of sense.”
The hag nods in agreement.
And so after receiving the answer, the knight thanked the hag, and rush to his home to the court. As he promised, the knight appeared to the court and his queen.
In the court is the knight, the queen, and much of the assembly is of the female sort. There’s also the pretty courtier, now with a brawny lord.
The queen quieted the assembly so to hear the knight his answer.
“My queen, the one thing all women desire is sovereignty over their husbands and lovers and to have the final say in all matters. I know this to be true, but do with me what you will.”
Wife, widow, nor virgin could not disagree with the answer and cried, “He has saved his life!”
Quite right Sir Knight, your life is spared. The queen called off the executioner and pardoned the knight.
The queen shoos off away a ghastly masked man clothed in black leather and carrying an ax.
But before the knight could rejoice, the hag came out of the assembly. Standing there in her elderly glory and ragged pride she spoke.
“My queen and good people, I was the one who gave this knight the answer- in return he said that he will do anything I ask of him. So before all the court, I ask you Sir Knight to marry me.”
The court is silent. The knight’s eyes pop out is terror.
The knight cried, “In the celestial realms no! Do not save my life if only to curse me to such a prison! Good mother, please, if you want security and fortune let me treat you as my own blood and as a good son, I will attend to all your needs and you will live a comfortable life to the end of your days.”
“I want marriage,” the determined hag replied.
The knight continued to plead and bribe the hag, while she was unmoved. The matter was left to the queen.
The queen studies the hag and a strange look appears on her face. She has a knowing smirk.
The queen reached her decision and declared, “As knight, your word is your bond. It must always be true and must always be fulfilled. The marriage will go through.”
The knight slumps in devastation and the hag bows in gratitude.
As ordered, the knight married his ancient bride, quietly and unseen in a lonely chapel.
The knight and the hag stand before a bemuse priest in a nearly empty chapel, save for two witnesses.
On their wedding night, the hag saw her groom in despair.
Its night and at his own house, the knight is drinking wine- a lot of wine. He then sees the hag huddling towards him.
“Husband, why so sad?” The hag questioned.
“You questioned this? Our union is unnatural. You are old and ugly, with no title or fortune. If only death had taken me to avoid such a condemned state!”
“My husband is that what is ailing you?”
“Yes!”
“Well then let me make you see reason- You are upset because I am poor? Poverty is not an evil thing. Yes, things have been difficult, but I always managed to get what I need and waste not on frivolous things. I was quite content in poverty. And since my poverty has not affected your wealth, do not bother pestering me about it.
Now onto the next point- the belief that being titled is equivalent to being virtuous and noble is a rubbish concept. These qualities come from the soul, not the blood.
And lastly, my appearance and age- is it not true that you knights say that the old should be honored respected for their wisdom? Tell me husband do you not value my wisdom?”
The knight admitted, “You are cleverer than most women I have known.”
“And due to my ugliness, you are certain that I will be faithful to you. But if you do not want these things, I offer you a choice- A wife that is old and ugly, but is wise and faithful or a beautiful young wife who haven’t a thought in her disloyal head. Now chose husband, which wife will you have?”
For a moment the knight thought it over. With a sigh, he replied, “Good wife, I give the choice to you.”
“To me? You give me the choice over your life?”
“I will be happy to whatever you choose. I never seem to make the right choices in my life, and so far you have. So yes, you are my superior and yes you may choose my fate.”
The hag smiles and takes the knight’s hand into her own.
“Kiss my lips my husband and go to bed in peace.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me my fate?” The knight asks.
“Go to bed.” The hag tersely orders, “I will see you in the morning.”
As instructed, the knight kissed his bride and went to bed.
The knight trudges to his bedchamber and the hag scuttles to her own bedchamber. There she pulls over the curtains around her bed, keeping her out of sight.
The next morning the knight searched for his ancient bride and found a beautiful maiden in her stead.
The knight enters the hag’s bedchambers, and hesitantly looks around the room. He calls out, “Goodwife?”
He then sees movement from behind the bed curtain, and it then parts. The hag is not behind there, but a beautiful young woman. She has no wrinkles or white hair but dusky healthy skin, dark curly hair and her eyes are large and sparklingly. She smiles wondrously to the knight’s stunned face.
“Who are you maiden?” asked the baffled knight.
“I am your wife,” the maiden replied.
The knight could not believe it. “No,” he said, “I remember who I took as wife. And she is much, much older than you.”
The maiden consoled her groom, “Your bride yesterday and your bride today, she is I and we are the same.”
The knight is still confused, so the maiden looks straight at him. In a tone and gaze very reminiscent of the stern old woman said, “I am your wife, but I am no longer old.”
The knight was astounded by the miraculous change and asked how it came to be.
He is still dumbfound, fixate at her face and a hand directs itself to her body and said only, “How?”
And his maiden bride revealed her history. Once she was a lady serving the queen. Then time came for her to marry, which she dearly desired. The queen on the other hand, did not want to give away her favorite lady in waiting to just any man.
“It was a very difficult time, and it more so when I started receiving many offers.”
An interesting solution then came up. Some faerie folk thought it was good fun to turn the maiden into an old woman. She left her position at court and went off to the woods so to get the faerie to reverse their meddlesome enchantment.
But they would not do it. They said they heard my complaining and challenge me to get a husband the way I was. Any man willing to take a hag for a wife was a man to keep they said. So, I settled into my new life, a hard adjustment it was, and then found the benefits of being an old woman. I gained wrinkles but also insight and a stronger disposition, and honored because it was believed I lived a long life. All things must end, and I did not want to be an elder before my youth, so I waited for the opportunity to find a husband, the faerie led you to me, and here we are.
“You coerced me into marrying you,” the knight pointed out in a faintly accusing tone.
The maiden shrugged, “They said ‘Find a husband,’ they never specified to which manner to do so.”
“Goodwife,” the knight asked, “To what will our lives be now? What is my fate?”
His maiden bride replied, “If the heavens wish, we shall have a happy fate. For you see my husband, you have chosen me to be faithful and wise, and you shall also have me in my truest form.”
The knight is not sure what she is saying, so the maiden just directs attention to her lovely face and buxom form.
“You get this,” she clarifies.
“Ah,” The knight nods his head in understanding and appreciation.
“Will you ever return to the appearance I first known you to be?” The knight tentatively inquired.
To this the maiden answered, “Of course, but it will be when you are an ugly old man.”
The knight laughs and takes a chance to kiss the maiden.
And it came to be, the knight and his young bride returned to the queen’s court, where they received her blessing. They lived a happy life, a happy as two wedded as can be and that ends this tale of the Knight and the Hag.
“Could you have chosen a more appropriate story?”
Gwaine chuckled at Lancelot’s grievance, taking his seat next to him, “Be glad I didn’t tell the one that miller told me.”
Lancelot glowered at the comment. Not surprising when Galahad leaned over in inquisitiveness.
“How did you liked, Gal?” Gwaine asked the boy.
“It was alright,” Galahad replied, “I didn’t understand all that stuff about the faerie, but Jack explained it to me.”
“Did he now?”
The prince shrugged at this, “Seemed to follow a basic pattern of behavior in most folklore. Luring a human to their camp, tricking him and testing, seeing if he is to be rewarded or condemned.”
Gwaine shook his head at the younger man’s explanations and knowledge from his books. Galahad was enthralled by Prince Llacheu and started up and new point of discussion, “I think the knight must have carried a sword. All knights do.”
“Especially in tales where they get brides from faerie,” Jack quipped in too straight a way, it was hard to tell if he was honest.
“Jack, you fought in battle. You are with the knights. And you have the most famous sword of all,” Galahad reasoned and concluded, “You are a great knight.”
Jack was quick to correct, “My position is quite different from the knights in battle and my sword is hardly famous.”
Galahad defended his prince’s honor, with hands up in the air and exclaimed, “Everyone knows about the Stone Sword!”
Gwaine watched the exchange with growing interest and liked the animated look in the usually subdued child’s eyes. An idea then came to his mind and he asked his fellow’s knight boy, “Would you like to request the next tale?”
“I want Prince Jack to tell us how he got his sword.”
Tbc…
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Title: Tales from the Round Table
Themes and/or Prompt/s: Disguise, Teacher, Crossover
Rating: PG
Word count: 6, 832
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Gwen, OC/OC
Spoilers/Warnings: None really. It’s set in pretty vague future.
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, BBC and its creators do. I do not own the Cadbury Tales, that whoever has the rights to Geoffrey Chaucer’s works. I do not own Arthurian myth, Britain does.
Summary: This tale is from a long, long time ago. Long before any of us came to be, even before Camelot came to be.
Author’s notes: This was beta-ed by rainbow_connection (thank you :D). Also, this can be tricky to read the stories within this work- bold italic text is the narrator’s voice and POV, bold text is additional details to the story and what is not being told to the audience, the regular text in parentheses is audience POV.
Also, this is a Work-In-Progress, and will be finished.
Though no one quite knew how it came to be a tradition, they did know when it began. It was after the king and queen exchanged vows and retired from all other company, the sorcerer and the knights gathered around with wine and ale and talked endlessly or have not a word pass. Some years later, the king and queen joined their festivities that happened to coincide with the anniversary of their wedding. As time went on, the party expanded to include new friends, spouses, and children. They would all meet at some undisclosed locale (usually a tavern) and, with some ale and food; they would do whatever it was they ended up doing all night till the morning hours. It was usually dancing, conversing, and drinking.
And so it was when day turned to twilight, King Arthur and Queen Guinevere met their party outside in a fairly lonely corner of the courtyard. A small fire roared cheerfully, united by dancing shadows though their originators were sitting down. Perched alongside her husband, Gwen observed the ones who were less sedentary.
Over by the left, excited by the privilege of staying up late, her youngest boy Duran and his friends chased each other around in a sort of game that usually ended with a multitude of injuries. Her brother Sir Elyan came by then and gathered them around to go on a “mission,” preventing any further trouble. Of course, the boys soon argued which imaginary fiend they would slay.
There was also Vivienne, going around and fetching foodstuff and ale.
“Thank you love,” Merlin said as Viviane handed him a mug. His daughter hummed a ‘you’re welcome’ and walked off. Merlin later saw her take a seat beside Sir Lanval, a young knight. His eyes widen as he saw his little girl laugh and whisper with the young man.
He hurried over to Arthur’s side, and in a nerve-racked voice asked, “Arthur, what do you know about Sir Lanval?”
“He is from the southern borders,” Arthur replied distractedly.
“And how old is he?”
“What? About twenty-two, twenty-three? He’s of age.”
“What else? Good family, responsible, quite possibly a eunuch?”
Irritated over the seemingly meaningless string of questions, Arthur rebuked, “Merlin, how is any of that your business?”
“He’s flirting with my daughter. That’s how it is my business.”
Gwen then intervened, also seeing the sweethearts, “He is a kind, responsible boy, Merlin. He was a great help during the siege.”
Merlin left the royal couple in a mild sulk, and plotted a way to go to his daughter while not being too obvious to his reason why. Before Arthur and Gwen resume being relaxed with each other again, Lancelot came by, his young son Galahad close at his side. As always he greeted, “Good evening, your Highnesses.”
They nodded in acknowledgement.
“Your wife could not make it?” Arthur asked.
“No, she’s with the girls. They are recovering from a cough.” Lancelot replied.
“Give her, and the girls our regard,” Gwen said, then lowered her gaze to Galahad, “And here is Galahad, how are you, child?”
Before, Galahad was silent and looked down at his feet. Once addressed to, the child ducked behind his father.
“Go on, son, be polite.” Lancelot gently coaxed his painfully shy boy to the front.
Galahad managed a quiet hello. Gwen, with a warm smile, rewarded him with a berry tart that he cautiously accepted. The father and son then took a seat beside Sir Gwaine and Prince Llacheu (called Jack), whom Galahad scooted closer to and leaned on comfortably.
Then Duran popped over to his parents, with a few other children following behind.
“Father, can you tell us about the labyrinth?” the young prince implored of his father.
“The labyrinth?” questioned Arthur quizzically.
“Yes, the one where you saved Merlin and brought the unicorn back to life!”
“I want to know how ugly the Troll Queen was. Merlin said that he had to speak in strange tongues to drive her off,” Robert, Sir Bor’s son, spoke out.
“No, they had to get the old king to cry to break her spell and defeat her. You’re talking about Merlin confronting the Great Dragon,” corrected young Peter, Sir Gaheris’ boy.
“Wait- who told you all this?” asked Arthur of the children.
“Merlin,” they all said as one.
Arthur shot an irritable look at his friend and advisor, only to find that Merlin’s attention was still occupied with his daughter and her present company. So he grabbed the man’s tunic and pulled him over.
“You told them about the unicorn? And the troll and the dragon attack?” Arthur faced the all powerful sorcerer.
“What?” Merlin shrugged off the hand and had Arthur free him from his grip, “I made you out to be very heroic in those accounts.”
“Those tales are not for children,” Arthur countered.
“Oh please, Arthur, be glad I did not tell them of your bout with the love spell, or the donkey ears, or even when you got shot with…”
“Merlin…”
“What I am saying is that my tales are very tame and are too suitable for children.”
“What’s going on gentlemen?” asked Elyan coming right behind Duran.
“You brother-in-law and sovereign of the land wished to censor me and save the boys from corrupting tales,” replied Merlin.
“Corrupting tales? Well, the evening is turning tedious, so why not tell us one?”
Duran’s face broke into a smile, “Yes! A story, Father.”
Robert and Peter joined in the enthusiastic pleas and demands for a story. Then Will, Lady Clara’s son, and his sister Sally. Then Lucan and Lionel, Sir Leon’s boys and then…all the children were demanding.
Arthur, knowing that there was no helping it, smirked, “Since Merlin was the one to begin this, why doesn’t he start us off?”
The children gathered around the sorcerer and sat down with eyes and ears all on him.
“Fine, the tournament was quite near, and we were patrolling…”
“I would prefer it not be one of our own,” interrupted Arthur.
The sorcerer frowned at his king. His mind searched for a story one that had nothing to do with him. And then old scrolls and their faded words came to him and he smiled.
“Alright, this tale is from a long, long time ago. Long before any of us came to be, even before Camelot came to be. “
The Wizard’s Duel
When the kingdom was a mere millennium old, there was a great wizard who had no equal in wisdom and magic.
An old man stands at the center of a grand and ancient court. He is humbly robed, but his expression is noble. What is more, everyone around him honor him with respect and reverence.
And his name was…umm…blast it, forgot. Let’s call him Ambrosia.
(Arthur rolled his eyes as he went back to Gwen’s side. Gwen let out a soft chuckle. Everyone else either ignored the statement or snickered at the expense of their storyteller)
Now Ambrosia was a teacher of kings and under his tutelage was a young prince, the only child and heir of his father the king. And the boy very much needed the education and guidance.
The wizard is lecturing to an adolescent boy of fair hair and clear blue eyes and a smug fool-hardy disposition.
One day, the prince was in an aggravating state and argued with his instructor.
“Why do I need all these books, and writing and all this nonsense when I should go out and fight for my people?” the prince asked.
“Knowledge and the ability to apply it will be worth more to your people, young sire.” Ambrosia answered.
“I was born a prince. I will learn what I need to know, when I need to know it.” The prince said.
“Will you now?”
The prince pointed to the sky and said, “The birds cannot read, yet they can fly and know which tree to nest and where to go when hungry or cold.”
Ambrosia was then inspired. You see, the prince was a hardheaded child, and sometimes he needed more than words to understand something. So Ambrosia turned the prince into a bird, a small grey sparrow.
(“He turned the prince into a bird?” Arthur raised his eyebrows.
“Father, please,” Duran shushed his father.)
Yes, and Ambrosia assigned the prince to learn how to fly. As it turned out, while he had the wings, the prince did not know how to use them. So the wizard charged his familiar, an owl, to teach him. And the owl taught the sparrow prince as any bird is taught - he pushed him off a high place with his wings spread out. The owl flew along with the sparrow, and corrected his position with the wings, how to use his tail feathers and all what birds needed to know.
The owl is tan-colored and a grouchy character, flying alongside a tiny sparrow that is so clumsy that it’s a wonder he hasn’t crashed. The owl constantly fly around the little sparrow pointing with his beak at the tail, and the wings, and the talons, and repeats until the little sparrow finally got it.
The sparrow, though exhausted with the knowledge just given to him, soon appreciated the art of flying. But as the sparrow and owl flew, a hawk spotted them. And it swooped in to snatch the sparrow, but he was alerted by the owl. Barely escaping the hawk’s talons, he fell into the forest, in the densest part, darkest part. After diving and being surrounded by trees, he finally fell into a chimney. And he fell through the chute and landed in a pile of ashes with a cottage kitchen before him. He was in trouble now. Well more trouble.
The sparrow, now covered in soot, coughs up a ruckus and it catches someone’s attention - a large human someone.
(“Where was he Merlin?” asked Robert, “Will he get cooked in a soup?”)
Worse child. Even the hawk chasing him paled in comparison to the danger he was about to have. He was in the home of the dreadful witch…Martha.
Sitting down playing cards cheerfully, is the witch. Besides the tattered dress and the unruly shock of white hair, she resembles a sweet old grandmother - albeit a murderous one.
Martha was a powerful witch but she dwelled on worthless pursuits. This was because she reveled in wicked things, taking joy in misery. For her, bad was good and good was bad.
So when she saw the tiny sparrow in her home, she mused that it was sickly or dead. But then the sparrow spoke. Now the prince did not know of Martha’s reputation, and he revealed not only that he was a human prince but that he was a student of Ambrosia. Nothing gave Martha more pleasure than to thwart any good Ambrosia was doing. So she decided to kill the prince.
(“She isn’t very nice.” Duran said.
“She’s an evil witch, of course she isn’t nice.” Gwydre told his brother.)
That’s right, she was also a little mad - to kill the prince and to have a bit of fun, she turned into a cat and chased the sparrow all around the cottage. But before she could strike him down, Ambrosia burst in and stopped her.
Ambrosia burst open the door in a magical whirlwind. He is very crossed and with the point of his finger, he change Martha back into a human. The two elderly people stare at each with dangerous intent, but Martha eventually relents and hands over the sparrow prince to the wizard.
(“How did he know to find her?” asked Sally.
“How did he know that the prince was in trouble?” Duran questioned.
“Maybe he looked at a crystal ball,” Gwen replied softly, “he was a great wizard, remember?”)
Actually, the owl told him.
The owl flies in and perch on Ambrosia’s shoulder.
Martha, not wanting to lose, challenged Ambrosia to a wizard’s duel and he accepted.
(“What’s a wizard’s duel?”)
That’s what the prince asked and the owl explained- it’s a battle of wits, when two people of magic transformed into various things to destroy each other, and its finished when one ultimately outdo the other.
The two birds perch on a tree branch from a safe distance from the two duelists and see them shake hands. Then Martha points to something and Ambrosia turns away to see it.
And so it started. Martha set the rules- the object they would transform will only be elements of nature, no other beings of magic and no disappearing.
The birds screech to the wizard and he turns back to see her gone, becomes irritated.
The thing is Martha loved to cheat and knew Ambrosia would never cheat. No sooner Ambrosia turned his head, she disappeared. She reappeared behind his back, as a crocodile. With her powerful jaws she struck a chomp on his head. But Ambrosia also transformed as a turtle and bit her toe or whatever crocodiles have on their feet. Martha limped after him.
Knowing that he was too slow to outrun her, Ambrosia changed into a hare and sped away. Well, Martha was having none of it, so she turned into a wily fox and the two raced- the fox ran for the win while the hare ran for his life. Ambrosia then spotted a hollow log and went in there, with Martha following.
(“Well that wasn’t so smart,” Gwydre said.)
You think so? Well, it just so happened that the old man had a plan. In the darkness of the log, Ambrosia changed into a tiny caterpillar and slinked out through a small hole.
The caterpillar escapes through the hole, but an inhuman eye peeks out and sees him.
(“That was smart!”)
Yes, good plan. Bad thing Martha caught him and because foxes have no interest in caterpillars, she turned into a chicken. She chased after the relatively slow but squirming bug, pecking away. She finally caught his tail and flung him in the air. She opened her beak wide for him to land and be swallowed.
(“Nooo!” cried all the children, even quiet Galahad.)
Now wait. Ambrosia did start to fall and came down, but he landed as a walrus.
(“A walrus?”)
It’s this big whiskered beast of the sea. They’re kind of like sea cows. And this large sea cow landed on the chicken. Not wanting to be outdone in size, Martha turned into an elephant.
(“They’re bigger than a walrus?”)
You’ve seen the sketches, they are very big. This was very true of Martha, the elephant. She grabbed Ambrosia, the walrus, with her powerful trunk - it’s this long tube-like snout - ready to teach him a lesson. But these thick-skinned giants had a fear. And Ambrosia turned into just that.
(“What was it?”)
He became a mouse, a field mouse to be exact.
The field mouse, clutched in the strong trunk, sticks out its tongue and wobbles its furry face.
The elephant was terrified, dropped the evil little thing and tore off. The mouse was pretty proud of himself, but then he had to tear off. This was because she turned into mouse’s worst nightmare- a lioness.
Ambrosia then went to a patch of ground where holes were all over. Deciding to outwit the lioness, the mouse crawled into a hole. As Martha tried to pick him out with a claw, Ambrosia came out through another hole, behind her. He then decided to bite her tail. Well, Martha caught him, again, and turned into the mouse’s other nightmare- a snake. When she was about to strike, the mouse held her tail end in the direction of her fangs, and she bit herself instead. As she recoiled in pain, the mouse jumped back into the hole. The snake followed to trap him, but Ambrosia blocked the hole with a rock. He then ran to the other entrance, knowing Martha had no choice but to go there. And when she popped her serpent head out, she scarcely had to duck back in and avoid the giant pincher belonging to the crab Ambrosia turned into. So she kept trying to escape and he kept trying to chop off her head, until he did catch something. It was not her serpent head, but a horn.
Martha emerged out of the ground as a rhino - it’s like an elephant, but it ears are small and pointy and its smaller in size. And it has a huge horn on top of its snout. With the crab holding on to her horn, hopeless and dangling, she charged straight into a tree and crushed the crab.
At the last moment, just before the rhino collided with the tree, the crab let go of the horn and flew off into the air. Martha was so stunned by the reckless display that she crashed into the tree, getting caught into the trunk.
Finally fed up with the witch, Ambrosia turned into a goat. Then he charged straight at her end and the tree, and head butted her off the small cliff the tree was planted. And so Martha fell from the cliff and into the lake below. But she was not done yet.
The goat looks down from the cliff, and sees the lake still. The waters tremble and smoke rise. Then something big comes up from the water, something big and terrible and purple.
No, because Martha changed into a dragon- a large, vicious, fire breathing dragon. The goat, seeing her claws and her fire, ran for safety, but the dragon simply blew her breath, trapping him. At her mercy and in her claws, it seemed Ambrosia lost.
(The children all leaned forward, eyes wide and trembling in anticipation.)
But when the dragon opened her forepaw, she found Ambrosia gone.
(“Did he disappear?” Sally gasped.
“I bet he turn into a flea.” Gwydre whispered to Sir Percival.)
“No,” Ambrosia told the perplexed witch that was not the case.
“I have transformed myself into another element of nature- I am illness and you caught me.”
This was true, because the dragon began to shiver, and cough and sneeze- it was a very bad cold. And she collapse, feeling weak and very awful, and not the kind of awful she liked. The witch was put to bed to recover and subjected to plenty of sunshine - which she abhorred. And after being taught a lesson, Martha caused no more trouble - at least not on a grand scale.
Martha is in bed with blankets piled on her and sun rays beaming on her, and she lies in there like an angry child.
And the prince, back in human form, came back to his kingdom with Ambrosia and the owl. The boy learned a valuable lesson - that knowledge and wisdom was indeed the real power. And he was better for it.
Ambrosia and the prince walk out of the forest and into the sunset; the owl flies by and land on the prince’s shoulder.
So concludes the tale of the wizard Ambrosia.
The children cheered and their elders clapped heartily. To both, Merlin nodded appreciatively. Of course, his oldest friend had to be critical.
“That was ridiculous, Merlin.” Arthur interrupted the applause. “Where did you get that tale?”
“From a scroll in the library,” Merlin replied, “and it is not ridiculous, the children enjoyed it.”
“It was a good story, Father,” Duran interjected.
“Fine that maybe so, but a sorcerer who turns a prince into a wild animal just to teach some moral?”
A moment pass, and Arthur noticed something - Merlin had a look on his face, the one he had whenever he did something his king would not like, but did anyway and without any detection. He also saw Jack lowered his gaze, Gwydre sardonically rolled his eyes, and Duran smiled his ‘I promised not to tell, so please don’t ask’ smile.
“Merlin,” Arthur began, in a tone that was low near growling, “Have you been turning my children into beasts as part of their tutelage?”
Merlin replied with the grace of a headstrong mouse facing a large cat “What? Noooo…never…” He turned his head and saw a potential savior or temporary distraction, either way he had to take it, “Gwaine. Why not tell a tale of yours?”
Sir Gwaine got up from his place and swaggered over to the center with Merlin. Once Merlin took his seat - which was partly obscured behind Lancelot and Jack, and quite a distance from Arthur and Gwen - and Gwaine was alone in the center, he bowed low and spectacularly without spilling his ale.
“Gwaine, as much as we enjoy your stories, please be mindful of the children.” Lancelot cautioned, with no indication that he was jesting.
“I am very mindful of the children,” Gwain quipped, with every indication of jest.
“Gwaine,” Gwen then said, with the knight listening, “I believe many of the parents would appreciate that you take care of what you tell in the company of the children.”
A bit of murmuring came out of the party, mostly from the younger ones- Gwydre scoffed, “Mother,” coupled by sighs of relief from their parents.
“Of course, milady,” Gwaine smiled with all sincerity he was capable of.
Gwen kept her stern gaze at the knight, and then went on, “No drinking, gambling, or taverns.”
Gwaine nodded.
The queen breathed and went on. “No brothels, cage matches, or women.”
Gwaine shoulders slightly slumped and was quite defeated.
“Are we clear?”
Without much ceremony, Gwaine reassured, “I will be nothing but virtuous to the young ears.”
“Then carry on,” the queen reclined in her seat.
Then he began, “This tale I heard from a good woman from the coast of Bath.”
The Knight and the Hag
There once a knight who was exceptional in chivalry and court.
There in a tournament ring, garbed in shiny armor, stands the young knight- sturdily built, fair with a handsome face, and blue eyes. There, another knight coming from behind, but he easily fights him off, and puts his opponent to the ground. The crowd cheers uproariously.
Then one day, the young knight struck down and killed a lord who challenged him to a duel- now because of present company, I cannot say the reason why the challenge was made, so let’s just it was over a certain lady.
An older man interrupts the knight, in a passionate embrace with a richly dressed and pretty courtier. The lady becomes frightened, and the older gentleman is so furious that he tries to kill the knight.
Because the lord was of a higher station than the knight, he was brought before the court.
The knight stands before the court in chains, and a bit nervous, while the pretty courtier stands in the crowd dramatically wearing black and crying piteously.
There he faced trial, and most certain execution. But as it so happened, the court was led by a queen.
Before the knight, the queen sits on her grand throne. She is dignified, alluring, and garbed in red. She studies the defendant.
The queen was not in want to waste his comely looks, so she gave the knight a chance to spare his neck.
‘Return here in a year and a day- no later, no sooner- and stand before your queen with an answer, your life will be spared. If not, well I am sure you are aware of the protocol.’
While the knight, as all of knights, did not fear death. However, he did prefer it to come in some glorious manner in the midst of a battlefield, or, if he could not have that, of old age.
So, the knight said to his queen, “I accept this task set before me, and do swear that I will return in the time allotted. May I ask, what is this riddle which the queen desires me to solve and answer?”
To this the queen replied, “Only this- what is the one thing that all women truly desire.”
At this, the knight is taken aback, and his face contorts in perplexity, while he is silently screaming, ‘WHAT?’
“Remember, good knight, you have a year and a day. Now, off you go,” quipped the queen, shooing him off. Once released from his bonds, and then went on his way.
Thus, the knight searched day and night, night and day, for the answer to the queen’s riddle, and his escape from the chopping block. He recited the riddle to every woman in the kingdom, and then in the bordering kingdoms, then North to South, then East to West and everywhere in between, he posed this riddle to women.
The knight, with his horse at his side, addresses a noble born British woman, then a farmer’s wife, next a huntress covered in blue pigmentation, then a lady covered in a veil, and a woman in a turban, one with a nose ring and white robe. They, each of them, have a different answer, or none at all, and he leaves disappointed after each interview.
Everywhere he went, he asked the riddle of every person he encountered. Because every person had a different answer to the riddle, he found no answer. Sometimes, it was fame and fortune; others said it was honor and respectability. Still others said that it was happiness and laughter, later he was told that it was fine clothes and rare gems. Some even said that it was to have a good time.
(“‘A good time?’ Like a playing a good game?” interjected Prince Doran.
“Sure, why not,” replied Gwaine, mindful of his parents, while Doran’s brothers snickered in the background.)
Then he was told it was constant flattery, to always be the center of attention and be told that she was beautiful, good and wise. Then there was the extremely close response of being free to do whatever she pleases without a man scolding her. Others believed that women wanted to be seen as confidants and secret keepers - but since when has a women ever kept a secret for longer than a day?
(“Present company excluded, of course,” Gwaine said nodding to his own queen.)
A year had passed with only a day left, and the knight was still no closer to finding the answer than when he started his search for the solution to the queen’s riddle. But, he promised his queen that he would return, so he made his way back to court and tried not to think about the chopping block and its accompanying executioner. As he was riding along the edge of the forest, he saw a strange sight before him.
The knight sees a small figure amongst the trees. Curious, he goes in to investigate. He finds that it is a child with a piercing gaze and no goal to hide from him. The child then trots off and the knight follow, until he is led to a bonfire and strange creatures.
There before him, was a troupe of faerie. In a circle, without inhibition, were faerie women dancing.
Surrounded by trees, one woman was clad in deep green, and was tall and striking, with long, black curls. Another is in pure white, also dark-haired, but slimmer and sharp. The third dressed in sky-blue, fair-skinned, and cheerful. The last is clothed rough rusty red with unruly dark locks, waif-like and the most uninhibited in her dancing.
Seeing the faerie woman, the knight quickly rode to them, hoping against hope that one may have the answer.
The faerie women stop dancing and greet the knight.
But the faerie women did not.
The knight hangs his head in despair as the women shook their heads no. Before they leave though, the striking one in green goes to a tall lanky faerie. She whispers in his ear. They share a smile and he comes up to the knight.
Then one faerie appeared to him and said, “There is one who has your answer.”
The knight demanded, “Who would that be? Tell me.”
“Stay a little longer and you will meet an elderly woman. She knows much and credit to your sort, she was never wrong before.”
The faerie then leaves and the knight is alone.
As soon as the faerie left, an old hag appeared.
A crouched over figure dressed in a ragged yellow cloak huddles by.
The knight saw her looks- ancient and hideous as death.
The hag is indeed ugly. To call her homily would be kindness. She had thinning white hair and not teeth. She is wrinkled and cracked and deep crags go over her sockets, hiding her eyes. This woman did not lead a gentle life and it’s shown from her twisted hands and her worn out face.
But the knight ignored this and asked her, “Good mother, I was told to wait for a wise woman who may help me. Are you she?”
“All women can be wise in their own way, but I am here. What is ailing you?”
“A riddle Good Mother- one that the answer to means my neck. If you have the answer and give it to me, I will do anything, give anything you ask.”
“Anything- I’ll hold you to that. First, what is this riddle that’s life and death for you?”
“What is the one thing that all women desire?”
The hag smiled, showing red raw gums and four teeth, “Do not fear Sir Knight, you will not die, because I swear on my life that the queen will agree to this answer. In fact, women will agree to this answer.”
“Really?” The knight felt his hope returning.
“Really, but first your offer in return- you said that you would do anything I ask, correct? Well one day I will ask and you will do. Do I have your word?”
“Yes, I will honor my word.”
“Good- Now here is the answer.”
The hag crooks her spiny finger for the knight to bend down to her level. He obeys.
She then whispers it in his ear.
The knight unfurls and says to the hag, “That’s it? That’s… actually makes a lot of sense.”
The hag nods in agreement.
And so after receiving the answer, the knight thanked the hag, and rush to his home to the court. As he promised, the knight appeared to the court and his queen.
In the court is the knight, the queen, and much of the assembly is of the female sort. There’s also the pretty courtier, now with a brawny lord.
The queen quieted the assembly so to hear the knight his answer.
“My queen, the one thing all women desire is sovereignty over their husbands and lovers and to have the final say in all matters. I know this to be true, but do with me what you will.”
Wife, widow, nor virgin could not disagree with the answer and cried, “He has saved his life!”
Quite right Sir Knight, your life is spared. The queen called off the executioner and pardoned the knight.
The queen shoos off away a ghastly masked man clothed in black leather and carrying an ax.
But before the knight could rejoice, the hag came out of the assembly. Standing there in her elderly glory and ragged pride she spoke.
“My queen and good people, I was the one who gave this knight the answer- in return he said that he will do anything I ask of him. So before all the court, I ask you Sir Knight to marry me.”
The court is silent. The knight’s eyes pop out is terror.
The knight cried, “In the celestial realms no! Do not save my life if only to curse me to such a prison! Good mother, please, if you want security and fortune let me treat you as my own blood and as a good son, I will attend to all your needs and you will live a comfortable life to the end of your days.”
“I want marriage,” the determined hag replied.
The knight continued to plead and bribe the hag, while she was unmoved. The matter was left to the queen.
The queen studies the hag and a strange look appears on her face. She has a knowing smirk.
The queen reached her decision and declared, “As knight, your word is your bond. It must always be true and must always be fulfilled. The marriage will go through.”
The knight slumps in devastation and the hag bows in gratitude.
As ordered, the knight married his ancient bride, quietly and unseen in a lonely chapel.
The knight and the hag stand before a bemuse priest in a nearly empty chapel, save for two witnesses.
On their wedding night, the hag saw her groom in despair.
Its night and at his own house, the knight is drinking wine- a lot of wine. He then sees the hag huddling towards him.
“Husband, why so sad?” The hag questioned.
“You questioned this? Our union is unnatural. You are old and ugly, with no title or fortune. If only death had taken me to avoid such a condemned state!”
“My husband is that what is ailing you?”
“Yes!”
“Well then let me make you see reason- You are upset because I am poor? Poverty is not an evil thing. Yes, things have been difficult, but I always managed to get what I need and waste not on frivolous things. I was quite content in poverty. And since my poverty has not affected your wealth, do not bother pestering me about it.
Now onto the next point- the belief that being titled is equivalent to being virtuous and noble is a rubbish concept. These qualities come from the soul, not the blood.
And lastly, my appearance and age- is it not true that you knights say that the old should be honored respected for their wisdom? Tell me husband do you not value my wisdom?”
The knight admitted, “You are cleverer than most women I have known.”
“And due to my ugliness, you are certain that I will be faithful to you. But if you do not want these things, I offer you a choice- A wife that is old and ugly, but is wise and faithful or a beautiful young wife who haven’t a thought in her disloyal head. Now chose husband, which wife will you have?”
For a moment the knight thought it over. With a sigh, he replied, “Good wife, I give the choice to you.”
“To me? You give me the choice over your life?”
“I will be happy to whatever you choose. I never seem to make the right choices in my life, and so far you have. So yes, you are my superior and yes you may choose my fate.”
The hag smiles and takes the knight’s hand into her own.
“Kiss my lips my husband and go to bed in peace.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me my fate?” The knight asks.
“Go to bed.” The hag tersely orders, “I will see you in the morning.”
As instructed, the knight kissed his bride and went to bed.
The knight trudges to his bedchamber and the hag scuttles to her own bedchamber. There she pulls over the curtains around her bed, keeping her out of sight.
The next morning the knight searched for his ancient bride and found a beautiful maiden in her stead.
The knight enters the hag’s bedchambers, and hesitantly looks around the room. He calls out, “Goodwife?”
He then sees movement from behind the bed curtain, and it then parts. The hag is not behind there, but a beautiful young woman. She has no wrinkles or white hair but dusky healthy skin, dark curly hair and her eyes are large and sparklingly. She smiles wondrously to the knight’s stunned face.
“Who are you maiden?” asked the baffled knight.
“I am your wife,” the maiden replied.
The knight could not believe it. “No,” he said, “I remember who I took as wife. And she is much, much older than you.”
The maiden consoled her groom, “Your bride yesterday and your bride today, she is I and we are the same.”
The knight is still confused, so the maiden looks straight at him. In a tone and gaze very reminiscent of the stern old woman said, “I am your wife, but I am no longer old.”
The knight was astounded by the miraculous change and asked how it came to be.
He is still dumbfound, fixate at her face and a hand directs itself to her body and said only, “How?”
And his maiden bride revealed her history. Once she was a lady serving the queen. Then time came for her to marry, which she dearly desired. The queen on the other hand, did not want to give away her favorite lady in waiting to just any man.
“It was a very difficult time, and it more so when I started receiving many offers.”
An interesting solution then came up. Some faerie folk thought it was good fun to turn the maiden into an old woman. She left her position at court and went off to the woods so to get the faerie to reverse their meddlesome enchantment.
But they would not do it. They said they heard my complaining and challenge me to get a husband the way I was. Any man willing to take a hag for a wife was a man to keep they said. So, I settled into my new life, a hard adjustment it was, and then found the benefits of being an old woman. I gained wrinkles but also insight and a stronger disposition, and honored because it was believed I lived a long life. All things must end, and I did not want to be an elder before my youth, so I waited for the opportunity to find a husband, the faerie led you to me, and here we are.
“You coerced me into marrying you,” the knight pointed out in a faintly accusing tone.
The maiden shrugged, “They said ‘Find a husband,’ they never specified to which manner to do so.”
“Goodwife,” the knight asked, “To what will our lives be now? What is my fate?”
His maiden bride replied, “If the heavens wish, we shall have a happy fate. For you see my husband, you have chosen me to be faithful and wise, and you shall also have me in my truest form.”
The knight is not sure what she is saying, so the maiden just directs attention to her lovely face and buxom form.
“You get this,” she clarifies.
“Ah,” The knight nods his head in understanding and appreciation.
“Will you ever return to the appearance I first known you to be?” The knight tentatively inquired.
To this the maiden answered, “Of course, but it will be when you are an ugly old man.”
The knight laughs and takes a chance to kiss the maiden.
And it came to be, the knight and his young bride returned to the queen’s court, where they received her blessing. They lived a happy life, a happy as two wedded as can be and that ends this tale of the Knight and the Hag.
“Could you have chosen a more appropriate story?”
Gwaine chuckled at Lancelot’s grievance, taking his seat next to him, “Be glad I didn’t tell the one that miller told me.”
Lancelot glowered at the comment. Not surprising when Galahad leaned over in inquisitiveness.
“How did you liked, Gal?” Gwaine asked the boy.
“It was alright,” Galahad replied, “I didn’t understand all that stuff about the faerie, but Jack explained it to me.”
“Did he now?”
The prince shrugged at this, “Seemed to follow a basic pattern of behavior in most folklore. Luring a human to their camp, tricking him and testing, seeing if he is to be rewarded or condemned.”
Gwaine shook his head at the younger man’s explanations and knowledge from his books. Galahad was enthralled by Prince Llacheu and started up and new point of discussion, “I think the knight must have carried a sword. All knights do.”
“Especially in tales where they get brides from faerie,” Jack quipped in too straight a way, it was hard to tell if he was honest.
“Jack, you fought in battle. You are with the knights. And you have the most famous sword of all,” Galahad reasoned and concluded, “You are a great knight.”
Jack was quick to correct, “My position is quite different from the knights in battle and my sword is hardly famous.”
Galahad defended his prince’s honor, with hands up in the air and exclaimed, “Everyone knows about the Stone Sword!”
Gwaine watched the exchange with growing interest and liked the animated look in the usually subdued child’s eyes. An idea then came to his mind and he asked his fellow’s knight boy, “Would you like to request the next tale?”
“I want Prince Jack to tell us how he got his sword.”
Tbc…
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