11SUMMARY: A faerie with a bad name. An evil villain. A fair maiden. A kidnapping. A village that doesn't care. A reputation at stake. A one-shot.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ficathon entry. Had fun writing. Leave a review, please? And Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it and if you don't, have a super retro day anyway!
This was the challenge that I had to write:
CHALLENGE 20
GENRE: Fantasy Supernatural Humor
RATING: PG-13
LIKES: A character that I can absolutely positively hate with every molecule of my existence! Oh, and faeries, and maybe some Troll romance.
DISLIKES: melodrama, angst (unless there's an actual reason for it and not just some boo hoo), and um.. kung foo.
WORDS/PHRASES TO USE: "I don't actually know how to fight, I just carry the sword to look cool." "That owl was on crack! How many licks does it really take?" "I'm a faerie! Or didn't the wings give it away?"
INFAMOUSLY GOOD
So he didn't have the best name.
That wasn't really the point though, was it? Not all superheroes had hunky dory names. Superman wasn't a cool name. It wasn't even original, if you thought about it.
Devenage. There was no surname attached to that, he'd thought that it made him sound tacky. Of course, people still found him tacky but at least it wasn't because of his surname, or lack of.
So alright, it didn't really strike terror into his foes. And yes, they did tend to snigger at his name and snigger at his appearance -Faeries were short! And they had wings! It was a gene thing, he couldn't help it!- and snigger some more at his sidekick, Biggaby the Owl.
Devenage and Biggaby. It really wasn't the best name, and the reputation attached to it wasn't the best either.
That wasn't the point, though! He struck terror into his foes with his cool looking sword! Or his tough attitude and even tougher body of strength, complete with big, beautiful wings.
He had rescued so many fair maidens, it wasn't funny. Seriously.
"You're daydreaming again," chirped Biggaby.
Devenage opened his eyes. "What time is it?"
"An hour for dreams and aspirations."
"You're useless."
"You remind me everyday," Biggaby said, shaking his feathers out.
"What time is it, again?" Devenage asked absently, as he got to his feet.
Biggaby looked up at the sky. "Eleven? Almost noon."
"Plenty of time to find a helpless maiden or two," said Devenage, Biggaby perched on his shoulder.
"Call me a cuckoo bird but maidens don't generally live in the middle of nowhere," Biggaby said scathingly. He jumped when Devenage ruffled his feathers and hooted dolefully.
"There's always someone who needs saving."
Meanwhile..
Mathilda L'Admore carefully picked up her brush and ran it through her long, silky hair.
Curls today, she thought to herself. Curls and my best blue dress.
She rummaged through her trunk until she found said blue dress and tugged it over her underclothes, smoothing out the wrinkles.
Yes, she thought. That'll do quite nicely.
She put her curlers in, winding long sections of her brown hair on top of her head.
"I must confess, I do look rather silly like this," she said to herself gaily. "But the result will be worth it."
Minutes later, she unpinned her newly curled curls and slipped on her blue shoes. My, what a sight you are, she thought to herself, twirling in front of her mirror. She smiled charmingly at her reflection, picked up her basket and skipped out the door..
..Straight into the hands of Lord Lucas Townsend, an infamous villain.
"Help!" Mathilda shrieked daintily. "Help me, somebody, please! Help!"
"No one will save you now!" Lord Townsend laughed theatrically. "You're mine!"
"Help! Oh, bullfrogs-my shoe! One of my shoes just fell off!"
Then they were gone, a cloud of dark smoke swirling around.
A little sheep-boy who had heard Mathilda's cries from afar came running around the corner, out of breath and upset.
"I heard someone screaming!" He cried to his parents, who were running closely behind.
They looked around, seeing no one.
"Peter... Is this like the time you saw the wolf near the sheep?" His mother asked him, disgruntled.
"No! I really heard someone screaming! Look! There's a shoe!" He cried, pouncing on said shoe, and passing it to his mother.
"This is one of Mathilda L'Admore's," she said, sourly.
"See? I told you I heard someone screaming!" Peter said victoriously.
His mother rolled her eyes discreetly. "I hope nothing's happened to her."
"That'd be a real shame," her husband said, in a tone that indicated that it'd be anything but.
"What are we going to do, what are we going to do?" Peter asked, in a complete frenzy.
His parents exchanged glances.
"We'll check back on her later. I'm sure she's fine."
Peter nodded, unsure. "What if she's hurt? Like last time?"
"Breaking a nail doesn't count as being hurt, dear."
Peter looked surprised. "But she was crying! She cried lots more than me when I lost teddy!"
"Let's go get breakfast, dear."
"Ok then," Peter said, having been effectively distracted.
Over in the Caves of Solitude, Lord Townsend had shackled his prisoner in the Shackles of Indestructibility, which he had come across after winning a bet.
"These shackles are pinching my wrists," Mathilda cried indignantly.
"Do I look like I care?" Lord Townsend snapped.
"They're chafing! It hurts, and my wrists are going all red!"
Lord Townsend rolled his eyes. "The horrors of it all."
"And I'm dehydrating! At least give me some water!"
He picked up his bottle and threw without looking. It hit the wall next to her head, and bounced away.
Mathida gasped. "That could have hit me, you ruffian!"
Lord Townsend looked up. "You mean I missed?" His smile was quizzically amused, and partly menacing.
She gulped. "I'd still like that water, please."
"Then get it," he dead-panned, not paying attention anymore.
"But I'm shackled to a wall! I can't move!"
"Shame you can still talk," he muttered to himself.
Mathilda huffed. "I'm chained to a wall and I'm dehydrating. Things cannot get any worse than this."
"Mmm."
"What am I doing here anyway?" She asked.
"I've kidnapped you," Lord Townsend said. Duh.
Mathilda mused this over.
"Will I get back home by next Tuesday? I have a hair appointment."
Lord Townsend rolled his eyes. "That depends."
"Oh what?"
"On how much your village wants you back. And how much they can pay," he said with a quiet smirk. "And speaking of that, I've got to go."
He stood up and picked up his Sword Of Inevitability. "Don't move, pumpkin. I'll be back soon."
"Wait! Are you leaving me here?! Alone?"
He gave her another look. Duh.
And again, he was gone.
"My life is over!" Mathilda sobbed dramatically, and then stopped when she realised her tears were dehydrating her even further.
In the Village, the villagers were quietly, and rather contentedly, discussing the disappearance of Mathilda L'admore, who to be frank, was the biggest thorn-in-the-foot that they'd ever known.
Lord Townsend slipped between them, delighted with what he was hearing.
"-young girl-"
"-always has been-"
"-wonder what's happened to the little-"
"-wouldn't everyone?-"
"-taken her away-"
It was the ultimate pity that he didn't hear the whole conversation, which went more like this:
"She's very spoilt, for such a young girl."
"Yes, she always has been, especially since her parents left her all that money and ran out."
"I wonder what's happened to the little brat. Wouldn't be happier if she never came back, considering the way she treats us."
"Wouldn't everyone like to know? Ah well.. She's gone now, that's the good thing."
"I hope whoever's taken her away takes her far away, I never want to see her again."
"Magnifique," he said to himself. The next phase of The Fool-Proof Plan was to be put into action...
Bang. A cloud of black smoke erupted, scaring quite a few villagers. Screams pierced the air.
"Attention all villagers!" Lord Townsend announced, and there were a few gasps.
"It's Lord Lucas Townsend!"
"The infamous villain?"
"Yes, it's me," Lord Townsend said agreeably.
The villagers all looked up at him in awe.
"I have some news that may shock you," he continued.
They waited patiently for him to tell them the news. Most strange.
"I was the one who kidnapped a certain Miss Mathilda L'Admore!"
There were gasps again, followed by indistinct murmurs.
"Yes," Lord Townsend said proudly. "It was me. And you won't get her back until I receive the grand total of.."
He paused for effect. "Fifty thousand pounds."
Blank stares greeted him. "Payable in the next.. forty eight hours."
There was no reaction, although a few had started smiling.
"Or she dies," Lord Townsend concluded. This Village was odd, there was no other word for it.
And then, and Lord Townsend definitely did not expect this, everyone burst into laughter.
He was confused. Had he accidentally mistaken his words?
One villager shouted, "That owl was on crack! How many licks does it really take?"
Lord Townsend looked over at him.
It didn't make sense. What owl? Licks of what?
"That's just Berney. He's drunk half the time," an old woman told him, her voice hushed.
He nodded, understandingly. His father had been a drunk, which meant that he had the ideal villain-type personality. He had practically been born to become an evil, power hungry, sarcastically snarky villain.
"Or she dies!" He repeated for emphasis, snapping back to attention. "Death! As in... no longer alive."
The villagers chortled. "Go for it, mister."
Lord Townsend cleared his throat. "Pardon?"
"Go for it. As in, we don't want her."
Now he was unsure. "Ok. How about just thirty thousand pounds?"
"You can keep her, for all we care."
Now he was just plain confused. "You don't want her back?"
"No! She was a pain! We're glad to be rid of her."
"But.." He started weakly. "Ten thousand?"
They sniggered, that's right, sniggered at him. "Keep her."
"But I don't want her!" He protested.
"Neither do we."
He felt light-headed. "Fine. I'm going to release her."
Panic spread through out his audience. "Oh, no you don't!"
A line formed, trying to stop him from leaving.
He drew his Sword Of Inevitability.
"You will take her back," He said menacingly. "Or face the consequences."
The crowd rippled with slight worry but held. "Do your worst."
He dropped his arm in surprise. "But.. I don't actually know how to fight! I just carry the sword to look cool!"
The villagers laughed at him, again.
Now he was angry. "You'll get her back, just you wait."
Boom. Black smoke clouded everyone's vision and when it finally cleared, he was gone.
Now they were worried. "We can't get her back."
"I thought we were finally rid of her too!"
"Dear lord, please do not bring her back to us."
"We should knock her house down."
"Or burn her dresses.. she'd never survive then!"
Their worries continued throughout the day.
Meanwhile, Lord Townsend was angry.
"I'm stuck!" He said. "Between a hard place-" He looked around.. "-And a rock!"
He stomped all the way back to the Caves of Solitude.
"Pumpkin, you have crossed the line!" He yelled, as soon as he was in hearing range of Mathilda.
She turned her head to the best of her ability, although it was hard, considering she was still shackled.
"Considering I can't move, what line have I crossed?" She asked indignantly.
"What am I going to do with you?" He demanded of her.
"What happened to holding me for ransom?"
"Considering the villagers all hate you and don't want you back, I don't think it's going to happen!" Lord Townsend said, layering on the sarcasm.
Mathilda blinked, once, then a second time. "They .. won't pay for me?"
"No, pumpkin, they won't! Which leaves me here: stuck with you!" Lord Townsend said angrily.
Mathilda shrugged. "Figures. The commoners are all just jealous of me. They're threatened by my presence."
Lord Townsend glared at her. "Just shut up and let me think."
"Fine," she huffed. "But before you do that, I really need the water. My face is all clammy."
"What am I going to do?" He mused to himself, ignoring Mathilda's pleas.
"You could just let me go," Mathilda told him.
"The Villagers probably won't let me back into the village," he told her. "They must really hate you."
"They don't hate me. They're jealous of me. It's different," she said, with a sniffle.
"It's all the same, pumpkin."
"You could take me with you to wherever you're going next."
"That's not a bad idea," said Lord Townsend, "Apart from the fact that I'd be stuck with you, which is exactly what I don't want to be."
"Think about it! We could be partners!" Mathilda continued, the idea growing on her.
"Refer to my previous statement," Lord Townsend said disparagingly and made a shushing motion at her.
She fell silent, listening instead to the sound of chirping insects, distant voices, footsteps..
"Someone's coming!" She gasped, craning her head slightly.
Lord Townsend stood up, drawing his sword as shadows danced on the walls.
"The Caves Of Solitude. It's got a nice ring to it." Devenage said to Biggaby as he made his way into the Caves.
"Yes. Images of flowers and bees and solitude spring to mind," Biggaby said scornfully.
"Shhh, you mistrusting owl. Have I ever been wrong?"
Biggaby rolled his large owl-eyes. "Yes."
Devenage ignored him. "This place is perfect. No one'll bother us in a place li-"
He had rounded the corner, come into view of Lord Townsend and his shackled prisoner, and put two and two together.
"An abnormally small boy and his pet bird," Lord Townsend remarked coolly to Mathilda.
"I'm a faerie! Or didn't the wings give it away?!" Devenage said, disgruntled. From his shoulder, Biggaby swallowed an amused hoot.
"What are you doing here, boy?" Lord Townsend asked snappishly.
"I'm a faerie! And uh.. release that girl!" Devenage demanded.
"You mean her?" Lord Townsend asked, pointing at Mathilda with his sword. She swallowed back a high pitched squeal.
"Let her go, you villain," Devenage said bravely.
"Psst, Dev. That's Lord Lucas Townsend." Biggaby hooted softly into Devenage's ear.
"The infamous villain?" He asked, momentarily distracted.
Lord Townsend laughed. He'd just come up with a plan.
"That's right, it's me. Lord Townsend," he said, adding a laugh. "And I have taken this young lady prisoner!"
He gestured again to Mathilda.
"Let her go now," said Devenage, drawing his own sword.
"Never," Lord Townsend proclaimed, loudly and proudly.
"Then we will fight." Devenage challenged, brandishing his sword.
"All for it, shorty."
"I'm a faerie!" Devenage yelled, waving his sword erratically.
Lord Townsend eyed it anxiously.
"To the death!"
Now Lord Townsend was really worried, but his plan, as plans do, was going according to plan.
"No need for that. I surrender," he said cheerfully.
"You surrender?" Biggaby hooted doubtfully.
"Of course. I know when I'm beaten," Lord Townsend drawled. "You can take the girl."
"Free her, Biggaby." Devenage commanded.
Biggaby the Owl complied, flying over to free the girl from her shackles and stopping short. Firstly, they were the Shackles of Indestructibility and secondly, Mathilda screamed at the top of her lungs.
"Get it away from me," she shrieked, flailing uselessly at Biggaby. "It's disgusting."
"Don't think she's a fan of me," Biggaby hooted, flying back to Devenage's shoulder.
Lord Townsend inwardly chuckled, Devenage looked frustrated and walked over to unshackle Mathilda himself. He tugged, albeit fruitlessly on them.
"Curses!" He finally spat, giving up. "These shackles are indestructible!"
"What else would you expect from the Shackles Of Indestructibility?" Lord Townsend asked. A fair question, with no answer.
Devenage was stumped.
"I have the only key," Lord Townsend added.
"Give it to me," Devenage demanded, waving his sword again.
Lord Townsend gulped mock-fearfully. "Of course."
He produced the key from his pocket and unshackled Mathilda who latched herself to his drink bottle.
"Dear lord, about time," she said throatily, dropping the empty bottle.
"Oh dear, my prisoner has escaped!" Lord Townsend cried, anguished. (Except he wasn't really upset.)
Devenage sheathed his sword.
"Today, good conquers evil," he announced proudly.
Lord Townsend rolled his eyes. "My plans have been foiled, by a midget, nonetheless!"
"I'm-a-faerie." Devenage said, his teeth grinding.
"Of course, my mistake. Well.. bye now!"
"Wait," said Mathilda. "What about the villagers?"
"What villagers?" Biggaby asked.
"The ones that won't pay for my ransom," said Mathilda.
"What ransom?"
"The one that Lord Townsend was supposed to get for me."
"I don't understand," said Devenage after a pause. "Why wouldn't they-"
"-Because I bewitched them!" Lord Townsend interrupted, after a moment of extremely-fast-thinking.
"You bewitched them?!" Mathilda gasped.
"That's right. I used magik for the foulest of all reasons and bespelled them to hate you," Lord Townsend announced, his tone sorrowful.
Mathilda was stunned. "They like me. They really like me."
"Wait. How will this bewitchment be removed?" Devenage asked.
"It should have worn out by now," admitted Lord Townsend. "So if you take Miss L'Admore back, everything should work out."
Devenage nodded. "Thank you, Lord Townsend. And if you'd follow me please, Miss L'Admore?"
"I'm missing a shoe," she said tearfully.
"I'm sure-" Lord Townsend paused, not being able to recall their names- "uh, they won't mind carrying you back."
Devenage stood to attention. "Devenage at your service, Miss."
"And Biggaby," Biggaby hooted.
Mathilda screwed up her nose.
"Time to go," said Lord Townsend cheerfully.
Devenage gallantly lifted Mathilda and with a condescending nod to Lord Townsend, departed.
"Idiots," Lord Townsend said to himself.
And then he too disappeared, in his signature cloud of black smoke, off to find his next fair maiden to kidnap.
Devenage, though he did not complain, was starting to feel the burden of Mathilda in his arms. His ears similarly protested as he listened to her talk about her hair, her clothes, her hair appointment, her many suitors, her dislike for red meat, her fondness for the colour yellow.. the list went on.
Finally though, when the moon was rising, they were in view of her humble abode.
"Well, here you are Ms L'Admore," said Devenage, dropping her off gracefully.
She looked up at the dark sky. "What time is it?"
"An hour for ingratitude," muttered Biggaby.
Devenage tugged on one of his feathers.
Biggaby peered up at the moon. "Nearly midnight."
Mathilda let out a wail. "I have to get my sleep."
And she was gone, her door slamming loudly.
From around the corner, little Peter came running, having been woken by the noise.
"Hallo! Who are you" He asked.
"We are Devenage-"
"And Biggaby."
"And we have returned Miss L'Admore to her home, free from the clutches of that infamous villain, Lord Townsend."
Peter nodded, slowly. His parents again came running around the corner.
"Peter," cried his mother. "What are you doing up so late?"
He looked up at her. "They just returned Miss L'Admore home."
"You what?!" She cried, aghast.
"No need to thank us, we were just doing our job." Devenage said modestly.
"Thank you?!" Peter's father shouted, also aghast.
Devenage backed up a little.
Lights started to twinkle, as the village arose.
"What's happening down there?"
"Why is there so much noise?"
"Is it time to get up?"
"Will you all be quiet, I need my sleep!" Mathilda shouted from her bedroom.
There was a stunned silence. Then-
"Was that Mathilda L'Admore I just heard?"
"Dear lord, is she back?"
"Heaven forbid, no."
Devenage and Biggaby exchanged a look, then took another look at the slowly advancing, increasingly angry village.
"It's been a pleasure, remember to call on Devenage-"
"-and Biggaby-"
"-the next time you need help!"
And then they were gone too, off to find another fair maiden. Seriously.
THE END.