The Crying Pennant

Part 31

  “Trelainne, my love, where are you?”

  “Alphonse?” She ran from the sitting room into his arms, “My love, I thought you were dead.”

  They hugged and kissed each other.

  “Why did you think I was dead?” he asked.

  “They said they had put you in the dungeon to be tortured and put to death.”

  “I was rescued by a monk, a dwarf and a horse.”

  “That’s a strange group to be in a dungeon.”

  “We all tried to rescue you and the princess Arianne, but, uh our plan failed. She hit King Arthur over the head with a bed pan.”

  “She can be a little petulant. How do you plan to escape now?”

  “I don’t know, have you any ideas?”

  “I think I’ll get changed into my go get’em gear.”

  “I’ll take this dress off, pink doesn’t suit me any way,” said Alf as he disrobed.

  “Why do you think the author has introduced me as part of the party, is it because I’m good with the elven bow?” asked Trelainne.

  “No, I think he needed a token woman for the story, you know, someone that would fill the gap, introduce a woman’s perspective.”

  “It’s a good job I’m not a feminist then isn’t it. Get me my belt off the bed.”

  “Yes dear.”

  She came out of the bathroom with her suede boots, leather jerkin, hood and bowman’s gloves.  “Thanks,” she said as she strapped the belt around her waist. “You know, I could have escaped myself a long while ago, but I was enjoying the service, the goblins are good servants and Arianne’s not bad company. Never mind Alf, did you think you were doing your duty?”

  “That’s not fair Trelainne, you know I’ve got to rescue you so’s we can get married.”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot about the standard, ‘rescue my daughter for her hand in marriage’ clause of my father’s rescue contract. Well I suppose I’ll have to get rescued then,” she threw herself in to Alf’s arms, “catch!”

  He lifted her up and kissed her again, “I can’t wait till we’re married.”

  “So how are you going to rescue me then?”

  “I think we should exit by the window,” Alf looked at the window, “Mmm bars, we’ll need a hack saw.”

  “I’ve got a wire saw in my hoody hood,” she took her hood off and gave it to Alf.

  “We need some noise to cover the sawing, switch the television on, the satellite channel and see if MTV’s playing any rock music, it should be the right time.”

  Trelainne switched the T.V. on and switched it to MTV. In a few moments Alf had sawn through one of the bars and with Trelainne’s help had bent it out of position. He looked out, “We’ll need a rope. What about the sheets?”

  “We could use them, but I don’t to waste time knotting them, just compliment the author.”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “It was on CNN,” she quipped.

  “They’re all over the place,” thought Alf out loud. “Dear Author, you who are graceful, please give us rope, you wonderful man.”

  Nothing happened.

  “I wonder what’s the matter Alf?” quizzicled Trelainne.

  “He might be asleep.”