Hullo everyone. This is the first of a series of stories I've been wanting to write, starring my friend Cori as the Blacksmith and myself as Princess Mallorie. No cameo appearances in this one, but I'd like to incorporate our mutual friends into later installments. A certain seamstress and a certain milkmaid are just about bound to appear in the stories. So keep your eye out for them!
***
Once upon a time, in a beautiful
kingdom half-way between the mountains and the sea, there lived a
princess and a blacksmith, and they were the best of friends. They
lived side by side in a gray stone tower and a small cottage thatched
with straw. The princess lived in the cottage, and the blacksmith
lived in the tower, instead of the other way around as you might
expect. The blacksmith's name was Capitola, and the princess was
called Mallorie.
The two had many adventures together: whether it was because they were the sort who went looking for
adventures or because adventures came looking for them, it was hard
to say. Some of these adventures were the kind that made way for
others, and the one with the Gryphon was such a one. It began like
this.
“Mallorie,” said Capitola to
Mallorie one day, coming restlessly into Mallorie's cabin, “I want
a flying mount.”
“So do I,” said Mallorie, after
blinking in surprise. “I'm sick to death of being invited to balls
and dances and festivals and not being able to make it in time
because they're so ridiculously far away. In fact Collin just came by
today talking about a dance at the Red Palace, and I was busy being
miserable because it's in a week's time and there was no way under
the sun that we were going to make it in time! Oh, Cap, maybe we
could find a couple of mounts in the next few days! You think?”
Cap grimmaced. “I think it's going to
take a lot longer than that. I've been looking for one for a while.
But I can't find one to suit me.”
“Well, what do you want?”
“I'm not sure,” said Cap.
“Something fast. Something strong.”
The most obvious choice was a dragon.
But, as Mallorie said knowledgeably after talking to one person in
the market that afternoon, domesticated dragons were expensive and
impractical.
“They have weak stomachs,” she
explained, as she chopped up carrots for a stew. “They have to have
the choicest meats: veal, lamb, fawn. And a good deal of it, too.
Only lords and kings can afford to keep them.”
“Really,” said Cap. She picked up a
large carrot and took a loud bite of it.
“Yes. Of course, wild dragons aren't
like that. They can eat ANYthing. But naturally you don't want a wild
dragon. It'd eat you alive as soon as look at you.”
“Right,” said Cap, sighing.
“Right. So, dragons are not an
option. How about a pegasus? They're fast and strong.”
“Yeah,” said Cap. “I guess.”
Then, abruptly she said, “I was thinking a Gryphon.”
Mallorie's brown eyes eyes widened. She
clapped her hands together with delight, inadvertently dropping her
knife. It clattered to the floor, missing her bare toes by an inch.
“Oh, Cap, that's perfect!” she exclaimed. “I can totally see
you riding a gryphon. Oh, yes! I love this. Have you looked at any?”
“That's just it,” said Cap. She
swung herself onto the table and shook her springy dark hair back
from her eyes. “I've looked at all the gryphons that the keepers
bring into town, but I can't find any to suit me. They're all too
sickly or too expensive or too small or too nervous or just plain mean.”
“Hmm,” said Mallorie. She picked up
the knife and resumed cutting carrots. “Well, I'm sure you'll find
one soon! We'll just have to keep looking.”
But weeks went by, and still Cap
couldn't find a gryphon she liked. Mallorie became rather fond a
large tawny specimen that was in the market one day, but he was too
sweet for Cap's taste. Then, one day, out of the blue – Foyle
appeared.
He stood in the middle of their yard,
the wind ruffling his dull black feathers, looking about himself with
hooded golden eyes. Cap stood a little to one side, watching him. Her
brown eyes sparkled, and a grin was fixed on her face.
The graying woman holding his tether
looked at him too, talking to Cap in a dull sort of way.
“He ain't much to look at now, I'll
allow. I've no time to look after him. That's why I've got to let him
go. But he's a good 'un, for all that. Good, fast flyer, pleasant-tempered. A little skittish, but then, it don't hurt an animal
to be a little cautious.”
“He's got some sores on his legs,”
said Mallorie. “Where did he get those?”
“From rubbing against the walls of
his stable, I'd expect,” said the woman. Mallorie looked at her
quickly. “He gets bored in his stable,” the lady explained. “I
haven't had time to ride him. Accounts for him being a little fat as
well.”
“Could I ride him now?” asked Cap.
“You can if you've a mind to. Don't
know how he'll take to you though.”
Cap took a step closer to the Gryphon.
Slowly, she raised her hand. She scratched the Gryphon's back, right
where the lion's tail joined it. The tail flicked back and forth in
appreciation. Cap drew in a breath, then mounted him.
With a dusty clapping of wings, the
Gryphon launched into the air. “Oh, Cap, be careful!” Mallorie
shouted after them, dancing about on the ground. With powerful
strokes of its wings, the Grypon pulled itself into the air, higher
and higher, till they were almost out of sight from the two people on
the ground. Mallorie shaded her eyes and watched the circling speck,
beaming. The woman squinted up at them, too, looking rather wistful.
“He was my boy's bird,” she said,
half to herself, half to Mallorie. “Used to ride him every day, he
did. Flew all around the country on him. But after Robin died,
there's been nobody to care for the him.”
Mallorie looked down at her, surprise
and sympathy in her face. “Oh – I'm sorry. When did he die?”
“Not over a year ago.”
Presently, the gryphon folded its wings
against its body, and he and Cap came plummeting back towards the
ground. Just before impact, the gryphon snapped its wings wide and
brought its legs forward for impact. He ran a few steps on the
ground, then came to an uneven halt, ruffling its feathers and
clawing at the trurf with its lion hind legs.
Breathless and beaming, Cap dismounted.
“He's great,” she said, simply. “How much
do you want for him?”
The woman hesitated. “Well, I don't
know what people are selling gryphons for these days. What do you say
to forty guilders?”
It was a little high for a gryphon, and
Mallorie expected Cap to start haggling. But to her surprise, Cap
replied, “All right. I'll take him.”
“Well, that's that then,” said the
woman. She looked at Foyle despondently. “I'll need him tonight, to
carry my supplies back from market. But I'll send a boy up with him
tomorrow. You can send the money back with him. Is that all right?”
“Sure,” said Cap. She scratched
Foyle behind one of his ear tufts. “See you soon, Foyle.”
The lady took hold of his tether again
and led him down the lane towards the road. When she started down the
road, Mallorie called after her in surprise. “Oy. Aren't you going
to ride him to market?”
“Nay, nay,” the woman called back
good-naturedly. “I don't like flying. Makes me queasy!”
Cap was almost too excited to sleep
that night.
“Oh, Mallorie, he's great,” she said. “Just exactly
what I wanted. He follows directions and he's a good strong flyer. I
can't wait to ride him again tomorrow.”
But when the boy came the next day, he
did not have the gryphon. Instead, he had a message from the owner:
“My mistress says she has decided not
to sell him after all. She says she doesn't want to part with a creature that belonged to her son.”
