The Tale of Sir Knight

or How Sir Knight Saved the Village

Once upon a time, in a land that is not ours, there was a man by the self given name and title of Sir Knight. He was quite a fool, and he thought rather grandly of himself. In his mind he was a great and worthy champion. The truth of it was that he was quite the opposite, not that he wasn’t chivalrous and a gentleman, but he wasn’t noble or wise at all.

One day, he thought it would be grand to have an adventure. So, he donned his rusty armor, buckled on his blunt sword, climbed on his old, skinny horse and set off to wherever fate and fortune would lead him. Traveling thus, he soon came upon a village which he had never been to, having never traveled far in this direction.

This village had been repeatedly pillaged by an ogre. When he came, he stole their riches, their livestock, or, when he couldn’t get hands on those, he took some of the village folk themselves. They were terrified and Sir Knight noticed their unease. Looking around at the dispirited villagers, he said, “What is the matter, my good people?”

They answered, telling him about the ogre. When he had heard their story, he said, “A true tragedy indeed, but fear not, my good people. I Sir Knight, son of Sir Rodger the Undefeated, son of Sir Leon the Lionheart, will go and defeat this fearsome beast. Never fear.” He accompanied these words with a large display of courage and show which he believed was true.

Now many of the king’s favorite champions, and many a good knight had come and said the same with the same result. They never came back. The people know this and being wiser than he, saw that he was a fool. They didn’t want another man, especially a fool, getting himself killed. So they talked quickly amongst themselves trying to figure out how to save this unfortunate man.

In the end, they decided to tell Sir Knight that the distance to the ogre’s lair was so short a distance, you could go and return within a day. But what they didn’t tell him they were sending him in the wrong direction, in a hope to save him.

It was rather easy to do this. They saw that he had no helmet upon his handsome yet foolish brow. This had given one of the villagers an idea. “He is too strong for you to defeat,” they said. “We do know of something, however, that can help you win. It is said that around these parts is an abandoned tower, and in that tower is an unusual helmet that will protect its wearer from harm.”

There was no such tower, and they knew it, but Sir Knight did not. They hoped their plan would work. Being a fool, the village people assumed that Sir Knight would look for a while, and become discouraged that he never found the tower. After this they expected Sir Knight to either never return, or to return and say he had defeated the ogre when in reality he had not, and then leave. The were fine with this since they did not want to get another knight killed, and they felt they would survive somehow.

Biding them a final farewell and other brave words, Sir Knight went on his way. Sometime that afternoon, he arrived at a well. The well was near a small stream and a copse of trees. It had a conical roof, which made it look very much like a small tower in a magical spot. And hanging from a rope, underneath the roof of the well, was simply a wooden bucket. “This must be the mystical tower those learned people told me about,” thought Sir Knight. “They did say an ‘unusual’ helmet and this is truly an unusual helmet indeed.” So, without any doubts, fear, or apprehension, he took it, wiped it with a rag, and rammed it on his head. What he didn’t see was the remains of the old cottage hidden in the trees to which the well belonged in its prime days. 

Misfortune was soon to befall this brave fool. Not being extremely perceptive, he had not payed any attention on where he had been going, and was now lost. He also realized they had failed to give him directions to the ogre’s lair. To say he was not discouraged would not be entirely true, however he tried to find his way back to the village.

In an effort to take the right way, he lead his horse on. Growing tired, he quickly fell asleep in the saddle. During its midnight travel, Sir Knight’s Horse, being a smart horse with a sense of direction, wandered in more or less the right way. He took several breaks since he could do as he pleased while his master was asleep. By early morning they were at the ogre’s cave more by luck than anything else.

Awaking, Sir Knight saw the cave in front of him. “Now, here is a nice bit of luck, my fine steed,” he said, patting the horse’s neck. He urged his horse to the entrance and then inside the cave. Being a fool he felt no fear. The Ogre had been waiting for Sir Knight to enter since he had arrived in his sleep. “Are you here to challenge me?” he rudely sneered.

“That I am, fiendish brute. Thou shalt now pay for thy crimes!” The ogre was taken aback. When he had challenged the other knights and champions who had come, some lost their nerve and fled, while the rest lost their confidence. This knight in his old rusty armor, astride his skinny horse, and wearing a bucket must be braver then the ogre had first assumed.

Without any further words, or allowing the ogre to speak its part, he lowered the bucket’s handle so it rested snugly under his chin, and charged. The ogre was much too surprised to swing at Sir Knight as he thundered past. Sir Knight brought his dull sword down on his arm as he rode by. The sword was so dull that it didn’t cause even the slightest scratch. It was, however, such a forceful blow that it broke the ogre’s arm. The brute roared, eyes blurred by the pain in his arm. The poor thing had never experienced anything like this before in his pathetic life of bullying.

Sir Knight returned to the entrance, where he faced the ogre for a second time. Wasting no time, he charged, but this time he missed as the ogre swung at him. The ogre only knocked off Sir Knight’s bucket. Because of his blurred vision, it appeared to the poor creature that he had knocked Sir Knight’s head clean off.

When Sir Knight didn’t fall down dead, the ogre said, “What manner of creature are you?” Sir Knight coolly replied, “I, my good sir, art a Man! There is a whole village of us nearby. And I have come to save them.” He prepared to charge a third time.

This was too much for the ogre. A whole village of men who didn’t die when they lost their heads? No, it was too much, he had to get out. So, he went to his secret back entrance, a large flat stone blocking the exit, and rolled the stone away, escaping before Sir Knight could charge again.

Seeing no ogre, and looking around suprised, Sir Knight thought he had vanquished the ogre. “I have done it,” he thought. “I have vanquished the beast. Now, I will take treasure back as proof.” With that, he grabbed a golden, jewel-encrusted goblet that was filled to the brim with coins and jewels. Having completed his noble quest, and thinking quite grandly about what a gallant, dashing figure he must cut, he rode off towards the village. He even somehow managed to go in the right direction.

When he arrived, he said, “Thee shalt have no reason to fear, for I have vanquished the foul creature!” Hearing this the villagers smiled and nodded, looking at one another. He was wearing a bucket on his head which only, to them proved that their plan had worked and he hadn’t even found the ogre.

But, when Sir Knight pulled the goblet out and said, “Here is the proof!” They looked at one another in disbelief. That goblet had been the prize of the village, and the ogre had stolen it. “Truly he has vanquished the ogre!” they exclaimed eyes wide in disbelief.

They sent a party to search the monster’s lair, and found the beast gone, not even a trace remained. After returning and telling the rest of the village that he was truly a great hero, an honorary feast was held. The people thought a great deal more about this fellow with a bucket on his head than they did before, almost as much as Sir Knight thought of himself.

In time even the king heard of Sir Knight’s deed. He went to the village to congratulate Sir Knight in person. The king then made Sir Knight the Royal Protector of the village saying that “Champion is too little a title for you my friend.” The king went on to say he would give him the finest castle, a suit of golden armor, a sword of great renown from his own treasury, and even one of his own chargers in place of his old horse, along with many other treasures.

But Sir Knight liked his old farm and said so, and the king arranged with the Wizard to move Sir Knight’s Farm to the village. Despite what the King said, Sir Knight said that he would keep his old horse, his old armor, and his old sword. Though he did allow them to clean his armor, and sharpen his sword. 

And so, Sir Knight lived happily ever after and lived in peace. Which was probably for the best because, after all, he was just a fool not the grand thing everyone but his horse thought him to be. This is not to say that he didn’t have any more adventures however.

Why there was peace was due wholly to the ogre. When he had been defeated, the ogre told all of his friends and those he met, of “the village of men who lived after you took their heads off.” And they in turn, told it to those they met and it got more and more exaggerated with each telling. He always finished saying, “My arm has never felt the same, I tell you, and a village of deathless people? They can keep their treasure and animals. I’ll keep my skin, thank you very much!” And so, nothing and no one ever thought about pillaging that village ever again.

The End.
God Bless,