Norman and Dennis: The Adventures Begin
Chapter One
Once upon a time in a land of myths and legends, a gentle, end-of-spring breeze wafted through the trees. To a young man named Norman, this was the most glorious day that would ever be, for he was about to become a knight. Him--a knight! Protector of the weak! Rescuer of distressed damsels! And, most importantly, Slayer of Dragons! Norman was so lost in his daydreaming that he barely remembered to move forward in line. Suddenly, he was kneeling before the king, who touched his great sword to Norman's shoulders, proclaiming him a knight, sworn to uphold the laws of the kingdom. Then the king spoke.
"It is customary for the new knights to set themselves a task, or quest, to prove their worth," the king said. "What task have you set yourself?"
Every eye was on Norman. Nervous and stammering, he blurted out, "I-I intend to slay the f-f-fiercest d-dragon in the kingdom, your majesty!"
The king smiled good-naturedly at the young knight's brashness, and told Norman that he should probably get a good night's rest first. Norman agreed, and was then excused to attend the feast being held in honor of the young men being knighted.
The next morning Norman was up early, packing his saddlebags for what he suspected would be a very long journey. As he placed his saddlebags on his horse's back, daydreaming about his future adventures, his mother, Maria, stepped into the stable. She was carrying a bundle in her arms and was slightly red-eyed, as if she'd been crying. Maria smiled at her son, though, handing him the bundle.
Norman took it from her. "What's this?" he asked, untying the strings holding it shut.
"Oh, just some going away presents and some food--nothing much," Maria said.
Norman pulled out a beautifully crocheted scarf in his favorite forest green color and said, "Mother, it's beautiful! But it's just the beginning of summer. Why would I need a scarf?"
His mother answered, "Because you never know when you might need it. You never know for sure how long you'll be gone. And because I love you. But that's not all I packed, keep looking!"
Norman continued to unpack the bundle, pulling out a wonderfully worked tinderbox that had belonged to his father, who had died two years before. There were also several changes of clothes, all made by Maria (Norman protested that he had, in fact remembered to pack clothing, but his mother only smiled), some freshly baked bread, a large wedge of cheese, some dried meat, and half a dozen apples. At the very bottom of the bundle, Norman discovered a carved wooden flute, belonging to his mother, and a small money bag.
"Mother, why are you sending your flute with me? You love to play it! And where did this money come from?"
Maria replied, "Yes, I do enjoy playing the flute, but so do you, and I wanted you to have something of mine to remind you of home. As for the money, I've been saving a little at a time since you started your training. It isn't much, I know, but you will need money occasionally."
"Thank you, Mother. I'll think of you every time I play it. And I'll be careful with the money. I love you." With that, Norman hugged his mother and continued packing his saddlebags, filling them with the gifts she had brought him. When he finished, he realized that the bundle itself was a gift--it was a new woolen cloak. Tying the cloak with his bedroll behind the saddle, Norman belted on his sword and led the horse into the stable yard. He swung up on his horse's back and looked down at his mother, who was smiling up at him, though her eyes were suspiciously bright.
"Don't cry, Mother. I'll be home before you know it," Norman told her. With that, he rode out through the gate and onto the road, heading east, toward the rising sun and adventure.
The day was pleasantly warm as Norman rode along, humming to himself and wondering when, or even if, he would find a dragon. If not a dragon, then perhaps some other fierce creature, such as an ogre or gryphon would turn up. “Either of those would make fine trophies and prove that I can be a worthy knight quite nicely,” he mused aloud. “But I'd really rather fight a dragon. They're the fiercest creatures in the world, and no one would ever doubt me or tease me for wanting to be a knight again!”
About noon, the youth decided it might be time to think about taking a break for lunch. He found a clearing in the woods and dismounted. After tethering his horse, Norman went to the edge of the woods and set a snare, hoping to catch a rabbit or perhaps a pheasant to cook up, which would go nicely with some of the fresh bread and cheese that his mother had sent. Once the snare was set, he went back to the clearing and started a small fire with his father's tinderbox. “Boy, I wish Father could have been alive to see me knighted,” Norman said to himself. “He'd have been so proud, even though he wouldn't have said it outright.” Norman really missed his father, who had taught the young man everything he knew about hunting, fishing, and just about everything else. While thinking about times he'd spent hunting with his father, Norman heard a rustling in the woods, followed by the sound of an animal being caught by his snare. Upon inspection, he discovered that a plump pheasant had been caught. Feeling quite pleased with himself for proving to be so self-sufficient, Norman cleaned and plucked the bird, and put it over the fire to cook. While waiting for his lunch, he pulled out his mother's flute and played a lilting air he'd heard many times at home. Even though playing the flute made him miss his mother, he was determined to make her proud, and to honor his father's memory, by becoming the best knight in the kingdom, and he felt he was well on his way.
Once he'd eaten, Norman wrapped up his leftovers in a napkin, packed them back in his saddlebag, and started riding eastward once more. He figured he had about five hours or so of daylight left, so he should be able to cover a fair bit of ground. He hoped that he would find a town with an inn where he could spend the night, or at the very least, a farmer willing to let him sleep in the barn. While he could sleep outside if he had to, Norman really didn't like doing so. It had been his experience that it inevitably rained on people who slept out in the open, which was not his idea of a wonderful adventure. The hours and miles passed by with no sign of a town or farm, however, and he resigned himself to the necessity of camping outdoors and the near-certainty of a drenching.
He was in luck, though, and found a small cave which appeared to have been empty for quite some time, judging by the amount of leaves and debris strewn about the entrance, as well as the slightly musty odor about the place. A small stream flowed nearby, and there was plenty of room for his horse to be tethered and to graze. Norman talked to the horse as he unpacked his gear and set up camp. “It's not fancy, Tom, but it'll do for tonight. There's a dry place to sleep, plenty of water, sweet grass for you...it doesn't get much better than that.” As he spoke, Norman was unsaddling Tom, rubbing him down, and tethering him for the night. As soon as that was done, the horse wandered over to the stream, took a long drink, and began to graze.
Chuckling to himself, Norman carried his saddle into the cave and started a fire. He pulled out the leftovers from his lunch, and sat down to eat. Afterward, he got out his flute and played for a while, until he began to feel sleepy. He put the flute away carefully, lay down on his blanket, and wrapped up in his cloak. “Goodnight, Mother,” he thought. “I'll make you proud of me, just wait and see!” With that, he closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
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