Flashback: tales from ages past

Europe: Freckles and Bronze

The sun blazed overhead, beating without mercy as Kynan toiled up the naked mountainside. Charcoal burners had hewn down acres of forest here. With each footstep, the odor of charred wood spiked the air. New growth, hip high, offered no shade. Sweat stung his eyes, soaked his linen undertunic.

Kynan didn't dare strip down in the open, though. The sun has no mercy for fair freckled skin.

As soon as he reached the forest verge, he slung his belongings to the ground, stripped his woolen tabard, and rolled up his linen sleeves.

With a last glance at the path behind, Kynan caught sight of a glint on the ground. He stooped to examine a small object in the dirt.

A ring. A fine golden ring.

Who in these wild parts could have dropped such a treasure?

Everyone knew about the Spanish princess being regaled at the king's estate on the coast. Had a royal hunting party come this way?

And here he was, a lowly kennelman, on a hunt of a different kind. Perhaps if he returned the trinket, he'd win a reward.

Kynan grinned, reached down, took the cool metal ring between thumb and forefinger.

"Higher!" piped a thin voice from the shadows.

"Higher!" trilled another from the depths of the woods.

"Higher?" Kynan gulped and looked up. Nothing to see but leaves.

Shrill laughter resounded from all directions. "Hire! We said hire! Thou hast taken the pay, now thou must earn thy hire. The queen of pixies has need of thy service. Come!"

Kynan stumbled along after half-seen figures flitting through the deep woods, afraid to back out of the deal he'd unwittingly entered. Better to serve quickly and be done than to offend any fey, however small.

"What service does her grace desire of me?" Kynan called.

"An ogre!"

"An ogre!"

"Save us from the ogre!"

Kynan faltered."I am no warrior! I carry no arms but a poor bronze dagger and a broken flint knife!"

"Thou hast taken the queen's gold. Thou wilt earn thy hire."

Kynan thought to toss the ring and flee. And be pursued by a mob of furious pixies. Better to face the ogre.

His guides hovered at the entrance to a dim green grotto veiled by brush and thicket. "Thou must not bear arms," one cried from the grotto.

Kynan unbuckled his belt and let his dagger drop to the ground.

"Thou must not bear arms!" sang another from the right.

He tossed aside his flint knife.

From the left echoed, "Thou must not bear arms!"

Kynan planted hands on hips. "Then how am I to battle the ogre?"

Laughter pealed. "Thou must not bare arms! For nettles and thorns do beset thy path!"

Red with embarrassment, Kynan rolled down his sleeves, retrieved his blades, and plunged into the grotto.

Thus did Kynan the kennelman not only save the pixies from a small, noisy, hairy, fearsome ogre but fulfill his own quest of returning to the princess her lost Cocker Spaniel.