I like to write short stories, so here is one I toke a few minutes to pen just now:
As our small band stands upon this hillock, overlooking the vast field that lays between us and those who forced us to this point. I can’t tell if the ale-soaked breath that fills my nostrils is mine, or if it is emanating from my companions flanking me to either side. A low hanging mist hovers just above the sodden turf, leaving a dampness that engulfs us as we stare out into the distance at the high stone walls that hide the men we seek. The men whom have been running rampant over our lands for years, taking “their” share of my people’s food and possessions, so that they can grow lazy and arrogant in their warm straw and feather beds whilst dining on pheasant and pig. It has been a long time in coming, but we will have our due.
While this land and life had never been for the faint of heart, we who lived it were proud and happy. Then these men showed up, saw our fertile land and claimed it as their own. Some of us fought, but we were outnumbered, and our farming implements were no match for their forged armor and trained warhorses. My people were quickly subdued by their sudden onset, and soon we were forced to bow down. They allowed us to live as before, but they built their stone castle and took the majority of what we grew for their own. This went on for years, we grew poorer and they grew richer, until one day we heard of two men from another part of our country, two men that were fighting to win back our land. They had thrown down the small force of the occupying army that was in their village, had organized a group of men, and were travelling to other villages to do the same there. The two men, warriors from a distant land known as Caeneda, were leading the ever-growing resistance. One was heard to be called “Brian the Lion” for his huge beard and physical size, it was said that he had vanquished 5 heavily armed soldiers at once with a just blacksmith’s hammer and a half-burned log. The other was called “Matthew the Hawk,” and it was said he developed weapons of such great skill and effectiveness that foes would run at the sight of them.
When word of this reached us, we planned and prepared in secret for the day they reached our village. Our carpenters fashioned shields from Ash and Oak, and our blacksmiths forewent forging farming tools for swords, spears and battle axes. On the day that the rebel army reached us, we rose, joined them, and took back the village of “Nexus.” We soon after set out with them to recover the whole of the land.
The lord of the castle thought to easily squash our rebellion swiftly and severely, but with the leadership of Matt and Brian, we grew in size and skill with each victory. The lord laid traps, but we avoided them marching ever closer to his keep. He even sent out men to parlay with us, but Matt and Brian sent them back, but kept the heads for their answer.
The lord, and the bulk of his army gathered at his castle, prepared to crush us when we arrived, but Matt and Brian were great strategists, we did not assail the walls, wasting our lives and energy for little gain, instead we were patient and lay siege to the castle to force them to meet us on the field of battle like men, not castle dwelling rats. After several weeks, it looked like the day had come, and it was to be this day. Their army had gathered under the shadow of the walls of the castle, horses snorting and their hooves stamping the wet turf. The men in shining armor and untested blades shouted jeers at us like, “you are all just a scam army,” but we stayed quiet. On Matt and Brian’s order, which we had come to trust emphatically, we advanced toward the castle making our way down the hill onto the wide flat field. Our boots sunk several inches into the mire, but our feet remained completely dry and warm. For you see Matt had fashioned covering for our boots from sheep’s stomachs that made our boots completely waterproof while not losing a single bit of traction. Brian had some how procured enough sheep to supply the materials to construct enough for us all.
When we were in bowshot from the castle, the men on the walls and the archers beneath began to hail volleys of arrows down upon us, some struck our shields, many struck the ground around us, but a fair few struck us men. Where the arrows hit our bodies, there was barely the sense of a bite, no more than the midges that had been at us during the weeks of the siege. As you may have guessed, Matt and Brian had outfitted us with a kits made from special material that was not only thermal regulating our body temperature reducing fatigue, but was also waterproof, even repelling the bodkin arrow tips that were meant to pierce plate armor.
While warm, dry and completely hole-free, the army then advanced with heavy horse toward us. We stood strong as a unit, folded our shield over us like fish scales forming a shield wall. No matter how the riders urged their steeds, they would not push through our wall. Then Brian ordered us to advance the wall, and with each step we took, still in Tortoise Shell formation, we grunted. The sight was more than the horses could stand, they bolted, unseating heavily armored riders to splash helpless in the mud, trapped in their iron tombs unable to right themselves.
We left them to rot on the bog water, focused instead on foot soldiers that stood as the last impediment to victory. Though they outnumbered us 3 to 1, I felt a pang of pity for them, for our internal fires burned hot enough to melt them all. “Hut,” step, “Hut,” step we came on relentlessly, closing the short distance between us in quick order. When at last our two sides met, there was a thunderous sound and the earth rent wide open, and not one of the opposition was standing. As the echo of the blast subsided, a very odd calm and silence broke over the land, and then as if on cue, we all shouted and lifted our shields and weapons in the air and gave a deafening cheer that some say can still be heard on the anniversary day of this victory each year.
Upon taking the castle and breaking down the storage room doors, there was recovered hoards of Gold and Gems enough to make kings envious. Matt and Brian made sure that everyone of us got more than enough to take back to our villages to repair the damage that we had all suffered. From that day forward, the land lived in peace and prosperity.
As for the lord’s head, that was separated from his body as was fit, and the men played a game with it, which centuries later would come to be called Rugby.
