One of my favourite things to do is write silly stories. This is one of them.
Gwendoline stood there, eye in eye with a dragon. A beast that was, even for the species, enormous. His eyes glowed and from it’s mouth, saliva dribbled down on the ground. What to do? She’d lost her shield when she was running from that group of Werewolf-Vampire hybrids. Her sword had long lost it’s cutting powers from her epic battles against Goblins, Unicorns and Goblins riding Unicorns. “Unicorns,” she thought, “aren’t as nice as portrayed in the fairytales.”
And there was the fact that she wouldn’t survive the fight agains the dragon, even with her armor and if she still had her gear. She was on the verge of fainting, because her horse fainted from exhaustion, so she had to walk the last 15 miles in complete armor.
Suddenly she remembered the potion she got from that old wizard, as thanks from saving his pet owl, which, so she found out, was kidnapped by Kobold. She took a big swig of the dark blue mud-like liquid, which smelled like a stable that hadn’t been cleaned in ages. As soon as the liquid hit her tongue and started to fill her mouth she tried her best not to vomit. When she finally swallowed the putrid stuff, she looked at the bottle. “Don’t swallow this, pour it over yourself.” said a small note.
After cursing a few of the Gods, she poured the remainder of the liquid over her body. When realising the only effect was that she now smelled like a stable, she cursed the Gods again. A few minutes later however, she felt how her many wounds stitched themselves together very fast and her weary body gained strength as if she was born anew. Strangely enough, the dragon had only stared at this the whole time and it didn’t look as if he’d make any effort soon. Gwendoline decided to take the risk and started running across the scorched field that separated her from her goal.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, the dragon moved. Before she could even get enough speed to actually start running before she got hit in the back by the dragon’s blood red tail. She made a tumble and fell into a dried up moat, right in time to avoid a bundle of whitehot flames. As if it was fate, the moat contained an old, but usable and sharp sword and a slightly rusted shield. Gwendoline took a deep breath and checked the field for the dragon, but only saw the scorched remains of knights and around the field a lot of weapons were scattered. “Odd,” she said to her self, while she charged towards the dragon, which had landed in front of her. “I didn’t see them when I first entered the field.” When she avoided the black claws of the dragon, she tried stabbing it in the stomach. But instead of penetrating the red scales, the sword shattered into millions of tiny pieces.
There came that tail again. With no hope of actually avoiding the attack, she shielded herself. The shield took most of the hit, but it took Gwendoline some time to get her blance again. The shield, meanwhile, also broke into pieces. She caught a shine in her eye. There, behind the dragon lied a shield that shined as if it was asking for her attention, waiting for her to pick it up. With some acrobatics and a lot of luck she ran between the dragon’s legs towards the shield. While she was doing this, the dragon turned and prepared a huge fireball in his mouth. Gwendoline had reached the shield and was desperately trying to pull it out of the ground, where it had become stuck between two heavy rocks. At the same moment the fireball released itself from the dragon’s mouth, Gwendoline pulled the shield out and within a fraction of a second she protected herself from becoming one of the scorched bodies on the field.
She had a shield now, but no sword. The only useful weapon was a rusted spear that lay neatly near the rocks where she’d pulled out the shield. In a desperate act to fend of the dragon, she jabbed with the spear, hoping that it would be enough to hold the dragon back for a bit. A terrifying roar and the trickle of warm blood from the spear onto her hand made her realise she’d found the weak point of the monster in front of her. Gwendoline ran towards a place where she’d seen lots of sharp weapons. The dragon flew up, over Gwendoline, covering her in some of the blood that was dripping from the wound. As it landed, Gwendoline had picked up several swords and spears and again, she ran between the legs of the dragon, jabbing the beast’s soft belly with any sharp object she had or could pick up whilst running. It was suicidal, but it was gonna be either her or the dragon. At several places the blood seemed to gush out rather than drip. The agony and pain made the dragon go berserk while Gwendoline jabbed in one final sword and made a run for it. Fireballs flew everywhere, clawing and roaring, and then it froze. Gwendoline had run back to the moat and was now checking why the dragon stopped. As if it was a statue that finally collapsed under it’s own weight, the dragon fell down, shaking the earth around it as it hit the floor. Gwendoline was soaked in dragon’s blood, the only thing keeping her standing now was the adrenaline running through her body. She forced herself towards the tower, leaning on a spear, every muscle aching. She opened the door and cursed the gods yet again as she saw the flight of stairs. It took her almost half an hour, to get up the long winding stairs, but for Gwendoline, it seemed more like half a year. She opened the door, and there, on the bed, in Gwendoline’s best dress, lied Roderick the Knight. She ame closer and with her strength, she kissed him on his lips, to which the knight woke up.
“Ah, Princess Gwendoline, you’re here. Good! I hope you now realise why I’m tired of you always getting kidnapped and trapped in a tower with a dragon or other monster in front of it, in some Kingdom I never even knew existed before. I can see it takes a lot of effort to stand up, so I guess you’re also realising why I’m not dashing in to save you, despite all those complaints that other princesses say their knight does it. I told you it was bragging at your weekly tea-parties, but you wouldn’t listen. You don’t smell like roses either, so I’d rather you’d stop whining about my smell when I arrive. I’m also guessing you lost your horse, so I have to walk to the nearest village in a dress and high heels, which, I guess is about thirtytwo miles from here. I’ll walk a mile, and then I’ll start complaining to you that I’m tired and I’m not made for walking ‘cause I’m a princess. You’ll have to carry me, despite the fact that I just spent a few weeks in a cozy, warm tower and you’re tired and freezing from all the adventures you’ve had.”
As Gwendoline moaned, Roderick continued. “You know I love you Gwendoline, but it was about time you learned to realise and appreciate what I have to do nearly every month just to save you. It would be good for you to keep an eye open and try not to get kidnapped as much, so I wouldn’t have to save you all the time. After all, I’m a fan of equal rights between men and women, it doesn’t need to be the man that saves the woman all the time. However, my good friend Nostradamus said that equal rights probably won’t be happening for the next five hundred years or so.” Roderick smiled, gave Gwendoline a kiss on her cheek and jumped on her back. “And now, Gwendoline, to the nearest village. Giddy-up, Gwendoline, giddy-up! And while you’re in misery and pain for the next thirthy five miles, I shall complain and talk until you want to cut of your own ears and eat them.”
The End
