The Expectations of Sir Jalo

Sir Jalo was a great and powerful knight. His mind was as quick and as sharp as his sword, and his strength was just as great. Jalo was the owner of a great castle and protector of a fine village. He had everything handed to him, even adventure.

 One day a peasant man ran into Sir Jalo’s hall shouting frantically, “My lord, my lord! An ogre has taken my cousin!” Jalo heard the man’s plight. “The ogre took her to a cave north of the village. Please, sir, you must help her. She is worth as much to me as the great rubies of the underground.”
 Sir Jalo responded quickly and surely saying, “Of course I will help you! I shall go and set you cousin free of the ogre so that she may go back to you if she so wishes.”
 Jalo then dashed off. He had his squire suit him up in his armor and mounted his horse. He was handed his lance, which would be good for skewering the feared ogre in its dark heart. He was then off, riding out of the castle and to the cave where the ogre was hiding.
 While being a knight of some nobility, Jalo had a second motive for this rescue. In the old stories there was always a knight rescuing a fair maiden from a terrible monster, and he thought that perhaps he was in luck this day and he would be rescuing one who could become his bride. Sir Jalo had no wife or child; no family to call his own, which he longed for. He was not good with words, only actions and only if those actions were at the point of a lance or sword. If he could prove himself a person for who this woman might share her affections with, then there was still hope for love in his life.
 When he arrived at the cave the ogre came out with a terrible roar. “Why do you disturb me, hated knight?” the creature asked him.
 “I come for the woman you have captured so that she be freed from you terrible grasp,” Sir Jalo announced.
 “Then you will fail, knight with strength that fails!” The ogre beat his chest. “I have killed three knights before you and each were poor of taste. Leave me be or you shall be left to rot in the noonday sun!”
 “No, ogre with mortal flesh, it is you who will rot,” Sir Jalo said and charged the ogre upon his horse. His lance shattered upon the ogre’s hide and he was pulled from his horse by the creature’s strong arms. He was thrown to the ground with terrible might and his armor rattled with the attack. Sir Jalo rose and drew his sword, as he would not give up so easily.
 The ogre charged, but Sir Jalo dodged out of the way before he could be crushed under its terrible weight. He then stabbed his sword into the ogre’s flesh, piercing deeply, but breaking in the process. He discarded his sword and looked upon the howling beast with no pity and no satisfaction. The only emotion he allowed himself was relief as the creature died.
 Sir Jalo went into the cave to find who he had been sent for. The woman was tied up, as he had expected her to be, but she was nothing like he expected. She was old, ugly, and had a shrewd look on her face. “So you’re the knight come to rescue me?” the woman said. “I’m not impressed.” Sir Jalo shook his head and freed her. The two of them parted ways after the incident never to meet again.

A month after the ogre, word came to Sir Jalo of a new threat in the kingdom. A mother came into his castle weeping with tears of fear. “A black knight has captured my oldest child,” she said. “Please, sir, my firstborn is worth all the wheat in the kingdom to me. You must mount some rescue.”
 “Where has the knight gone?” Sir Jalo asked.
 “Last I saw of them they were going to the old quarry,” the mother managed to say before being overwhelmed with grief.
 “Say no more, my good woman,” Sir Jalo said. “I shall rescue your child from the clutches of the black knight before the next sunrise.”
 As Jalo prepared for this next excursion he wondered who this was he was saving. He allowed himself to think of a young woman who had just become a full adult with all the beauty of youth. The thought stirred his convictions and he rode out with a clear idea in mind of what was afoot.
 When he came to the quarry he left his horse near the entrance as it was too dangerous for beast of hoof here. As he walked he could hear each footstep echo slightly, and every rock he displaced made much noise. He had no doubt that the black knight was aware of his presence here.
 When he came across the black knight he was standing patiently in full plate. As his title suggest, his shield had been painted over with black paint showing his abandonment of heraldry and law. He pointed his sword at Sir Jalo and said, “Do not test me, o knight of empty symbols, as I have no time for you today.”
 “I shall test you however I wish as long as you hold captive a mother’s firstborn, lawless one,” Sir Jalo said.
 “Then you shall fall upon my sword today!” the black knight announced. The two then began a duel. Their duel lasted all day and into the night. Both were of great skill and strength, but only one could be the victor.
 Finally Sir Jalo made his final moves. With sweat beating down his brow beneath his steel helmet he struck his tired opponent’s hand through his gauntlet, causing him to yelp and let go of his sword. Sir Jalo then pointed his sword at the knight and said, “Yield, knight of no mark.”
 The knight thought for a moment before saying, “I honorably admit defeat, and surrender myself to your mercy or lack thereof.”
 Sir Jalo was a good and kind knight so he said, “If you stay here and do not take up your sword against me, I shall allow you to live.” The black knight agreed, and Sir Jalo left him unhindered. He did not completely trust the knight though, so he smashed the knight’s sword upon a rock before going to find the captive.
 He found the kidnapped firstborn tied to a rock, but like the time with the ogre he was vastly disappointed. Instead of a beautiful young woman he found a boy not much older than twelve years of age. He rescued the lad and brought him back to the village to be with his mother and siblings.
 Once again he let his own expectations get the better of him. He realized that life was rarely like one of the old stories. The storytellers probably omitted all the parts where the brave hero rescued anyone other than a fair maiden, even if they were exciting or perilous. He decided to stop expecting his life to turn out like that and focused on what was true.

It was many months before another great threat arose. It was the middle of summer when all was dry and much was dead. A drought had come to the land, worse than any that it had ever faced. That was when it came.
 It started as a powerful wind, blowing up much of the dead grass into the air, convincing most that it was a windstorm or—hopefully—a rainstorm. Clouds blew in, but rain did not come from them. Instead a shape flew down from it and landed on the ground, shaking it with more force than any earthquake they could remember. That’s when they knew what it was.
 The villagers gazed upon the thing with horror at the recognition of its features. It had a long, strong body, taller than the castle towers and longer than the walls around it. It had armor covering its body from wide head to long sharp claw. Its tail was half as long as it and had a blade at the end like a spear. It was a dragon!
 With a great breath it burned the village to the ground, and the fire spread to the entire countryside. What few villagers who escaped the flames found refuge in the castle. The devastation was horrific as many had lost their lives or livelihoods to the great and terrible monster.
 Then it just took off. They thought it would come next for the castle and destroy what was left of the community it had so wounded. But they were wrong as it went away to east without taking another life.
 Sir Jalo knew not what had happened or why, but he did know that a beast who would destroy a village just like that had evil motive and had to be stopped. He mounted his horse and through the smoldering remains of that which had been under his protection he rode. He took no one with him as he did not want to risk their lives on this quest, which he could not know if he would succeed at. He rode towards the east to glory or the grave.
 As he went through the lands of his kingdom he found similar havoc throughout. This dragon destroyed without reason except for malice. All it left behind was death and ashes, so he wondered why his castle was any different. But then he saw that there were survivors among the dead, mourning for their lost family and friends. He wished that he could have fought for these people before they had to lose all that they had held dear, but he could not. All that he could do was stop this dragon from striking ever again.
 As the dead plains turned to desert he rode on, not caring what obstacles he faced, only what was at the end. He went on for the entire day and through the night. When the dawn came he was parched beyond any thirst he had known, and so was his horse.
 He expected to die when he saw a river flowing through the desert. His horse, which had been on the verge of stopping, galloped to the river and began to drink deeply. Sir Jalo stumbled off his horse and nearly drowned when he drank from the water. While it might have been poor in quality, he would take what he could get in this land.
 When he had drank his fill he marched onward, leaving his loyal steed behind. His horse had done all he asked and deserved to rest as long as it liked here. He would retrieve it when he came back this way; if he came back this way.
 He traveled long, but he finally came to dragon’s lair. It was a mountain in the desert which, even in the middle of summer, had snow at its peak. He knew it to be the beast’s den for he saw it clear as day at the entrance of a cave. It flew out to meet him, breathing fire out of its long snout.
 Jalo ducked behind a boulder, which shielded him from the beast’s fire. It passed over him low to the ground, as its fire did not travel well through the air. Jalo threw his lance at the beast with all his might, sticking it in the side and making it screech in pain. It flew back to its lair in the side of the mountain and he ran after it with sword drawn.
 He entered the dragon’s cave with caution. Anything could hide in the darkness of its lair, even a whole army. Sir Jalo went slowly through the cave, keeping himself between the stalagmites on the ground and the cave wall so that he would have something to hide behind in case the dragon found him.
 Eventually he came to a large chamber lit by some orange light from below. As he looked below the chamber he saw lava, lighting the whole place up. It was here that he saw the dragon again.
 The beast was trying to remove the lance with not much success when it saw Jalo. It snarled and leapt at him with great ferocity. He ducked behind a large stalagmite, which blocked the dragon’s access to him initially.
 He ran out of his cover and grabbed his lance in the side of the dragon. He tried to loosen it so that he could use it again, but the beast moved and the lance snapped in two and Sir Jalo was sent flying through the air. He landed painfully, but rose it his feet to start the battle anew when the Dragon spoke. “Why do you pursue me?” the dragon asked, pained by the wound in its side.
 “Because you attacked that which I am sworn to protect,” Sir Jalo replied.
 “I burn and steal so that all may look upon my might and fear the consequences of battle,” the dragon said. “You go on despite that and so I must destroy you. Perhaps with your destruction your kind shall know that the price of disturbing my peace is death.”
 The dragon took a deep breath in and exhaled a great torrent of fire. Sir Jalo had no choice but to hide behind his shield and hope it was enough. He could feel the heat through the metal, and feared that it would turn to liquid in his hand. He was fortunately saved and he discarded his half melted shield as he charged the dragon again.
 This time when the dragon inhaled, Sir Jalo sprinted in as well. He leapt past the dragon’s teeth and stabbed the roof of its mouth below its brain. The dragon fell over and was dead, leaving Sir Jalo to make his way out of its corpse as quickly as possible.
 As he was about to leave he heard a cry. Someone shouting something, and he went to answer them. “Help!” called a small voice. “I’m here!” Sir Jalo searched the cave and found the source of the voice. It was a young woman with scared and beautiful eyes. She was very lovely to look upon, but frightened. “Is the dragon dead?”
 “Yes; I have slain it,” Sir Jalo said.
 “Thank you, thank you!” the woman said. “Now I may finally be rid of this place.”
 Compelled by the beauty of her form Sir Jalo asked, “What is your name?”
 “I am Satu,” the woman said. “I have no home left, but I am eager to leave all the same.”
 “I am Sir Jalo, and while I can offer you a home it will be quite crowded since the village was destroyed.”
 “As long as it is not the lair of a dragon, I may go back there with you, if you would have me.”
 And so it came to pass that Sir Jalo she who, a year and a half later, would become his bride. They had a small family together that always remembered the story of how their parents met and all that came before. The village was rebuilt over time and it became a place where others who had lost their home could live and thrive. Dragons began to learn that humans could not be reasoned with and left for their ancient homeland to await the day they might have to defend it from their enemies yet again. But, for good or ill, that is the way it ended.

The Neverending Battle

There was a man named Falk once. He was a hero with the might of a hawk. He fought evil in the name of good, yet he never proclaimed it as his deeds spoke more than any man has. He did not fall in vain.

            He was born poor but rose to triumph. When he first grasped a sword, he knew that it was his fate to wield it until the day he died. He charged against the red dragon and hoped he would at the least not die in vain.
            He fought the dragon and followed him from mountain to mountain in pursuit. Falk crushed the red dragon’s claws on the mountain of snow, and the dragon flew away. Falk sliced the red dragon’s wings on the mountain of rock, and the dragon slunk back. Falk pierced the red dragon’s hide, and the dragon retreated no more. Falk buried the red dragon’s body on the mountain of green and laid him to rest.
            Falk did not rest though. In treachery, another foe rose. Severin, with the might of a hawk, swept over the land as a terror. Falk went to meet Severin to determine his fate.
            “I see your heart, Severin,” Falk said, hoping his foe would see reason. “We need not be enemies. Lay down your weapon and we might be friends.”
            “I do not see peace, Falk,” Severin replied, anger at Falk’s naivete. “I see only war ahead of me. Raise your weapon to defend yourself as it would be a pity to strike down a man as mighty as you unarmed.”
            So they fought, and Falk never battled a fiercer opponent. Severin was a man of war and violence, while Falk was a man of peace and protection. Severin struck down Falk’s sword, and then killed the mighty hero. Did he die in vain?
            There was a great cry at the hero’s fall. Severin threw down Falk’s corpse as a warning to those who would oppose him. Widows wept tears for the slayer of the red dragon. Their children would weep blood under the rule of Severin, king of all he could strike with the sword. Falk had failed, but he did not die in vain.
            There was a young man named Rein. He hoped to be a hero and had the might of a hawk. He was the son of Falk and hoped to succeed where his father had failed. Severin quaked at the approach of Rein.
            Still weakened from his fight against Falk, Severin tried to warn away Rein. Severin said, “I killed your father. It is pointless to fight me.”
            “You killed my father. I have every reason to battle you,” Rein replied, drawing his father’s sword. And they battled with ferocity not seen since Falk fought Severin, and even then, it was a fiercer battle. Rein snapped Severin’s sword with his own, and gave the warlord a warning, “You have no chance against me, but I do not kill you. It is better you are humbled and seek redemption than dead and unable to seek anything. Rise.”
            And so Severin disappeared, not to be heard from again. It is said that he sought redemption in the forests of far away, cutting firewood for the crippled and the widows until he died trying to help others. Rein saw the chaos of the world and began his father’s work again to bring peace to all. It would not end though, and each generation a new hero would rise up to battle evils both ancient and new. Yet Rein did good in his time and reached the honor of his father with ease. And that, for good or ill, is how it ended.

Aleron and the Four Rivers

Aleron was a brave young man, and while he was not very powerful, he was rather smart. He was also in love with a young maiden named Adamaris, who was cold to the affections of all in their village. It was like this until Adamaris fell into the great river, and was swept away to be trapped in one its daughter rivers. While most thought Adamaris was lost, Aleron would not give up, and went to search the rivers for her.

 The first river was a weak stream, and the naiad dwelling in the river rose up to meet him. It looked like a young girl in a white dress, with nothing but innocence in her face. “Is the maiden Adamaris in your waters?” Aleron asked.
 The young naiad shook her head. “My waters do not hold any person but those who choose to be in them,” she said. “But my sisters are not so merciful. I would ask you not to go to them, as they would ensnare you with their promises.” But Aleron was determined to rescue Adamaris, and walked over the stream.
 The next stream was much more powerful, but still small and even a man of Aleron’s stature was taller than it was wide. The naiad dwelling there went to meet him, wearing the form of a beautiful young woman in a red dress. He tried to ignore the spirit’s beauty and asked, “Is the maiden Adamaris in your waters?”
 “No, but why would you seek another woman but me?” the beautiful spirit asked. “Lie here a while and be embraced by me.” While her charms were great, Aleron refused with the knowledge that lying in any stream for very long would be resigning oneself to drowning, and stepped through the stream.
 The next river was deep and flowed very fast indeed. This time the naiad of the river was a woman with quite a few years behind her, and wore a black dress. Aleron asked, “Do you know where the maiden Adamaris is?”
 “She is in the river beyond mine, but why would you want to search any other?” the older naiad said. “My river holds great wealth for those who can look. Stay a while and search.” Aleron knew that a river like this one was so fast and so deep that even stepping foot in it could carry him away to a place where he would drown, so he refused. He jumped over the river and continued his quest.
 He had made it to the final river, which was larger than all the other rivers combined, but it was much slower than any of the others. The naiad of this river wore a dress stained with blood and a warrior’s breastplate. Aleron was so stunned that the frightening naiad spoke first. “Speak, human, for your presence disturbs me,” the naiad said.
 Aleron finally got up the courage to speak. “I hear the maiden Adamaris is entrapped by your river,” he said. “Release her to me so that I may bring her back to the village.”
 “No, mortal,” the naiad said. “While my sisters may have been weak, I am strong. I have claimed a thousand men and will claim another thousand men. If you wish to rescue the woman, you must swim to get her from beneath the waters.”
 Aleron, while fearful, knew that he could swim, so once again resolved to rescue Adamaris. He dived into the water and searched for the maiden. When he found her, she was bound by weeds growing at the bottom of the river. He released her and began to carry her to the surface. He was not used to the heavy load of another person, but he managed to pull Adamaris out of the river, making his way back to the shore safely.
 When they got back to the village, Aleron proclaimed his love for Adamaris and the two were wed. Aleron was noted for his heroism and his tale is still told around the fire there. Adamaris never went near the river again, and forbade her children to do either. But, for good or ill, that is the way it ended.

Hello. I am, as the name suggests, a sentimental person traveling the imagined worlds of many authors. I have written my own works, though I'll largely be posting short stories here rather than any novels. I may also post essays or book reviews in the future, but those could cause a stir, so for now I'm going to stick to stories and the odd miscellaneous post.
 Rules for my short stories are simple. I post them, and you can ignore them or read them. Thoughts, negative and positive, are welcome as long as they're constructive. "It's cool" and "it's awful" aren't very constructive, but they'll still be accepted as they let me know that someone out there is reading. You could probably copy and paste my stories onto a word document and print it out, which I approve of as I believe such stories should be taken in on print instead of on a screen. Hopefully credit comes back to me, as I do hope to be published professionally some day and putting these stories out there like this is the only way I can think of to get a publisher or agent's attention without waiting so long that I'll have died of old age long before I get into print. But enjoying them should be your foremost priority.