Creak, creak...Urgh. Nearly...Squeak! Rattle. Snap!
Ahh. That is better. Dost thou curious soul now hear mine voice? Verily, my attempts at speaking have at last come to fruition, and I may at last speak for myself.
Perhaps thou art frightened by my appearance, good sir or madam? Forgive me, for the gloom doth obstruct my vision of thee, and I cannot address thee with the proper decorum that I would like. Thou hast chanced upon what seems to be a curious geist; forsooth, though mine shape might intimidate thou, I am a chivalrous soul wrapped in a daunting visage, and thou will undoubtedly find worse troubles if thou wander further yet into the darkness of this ancient manor house.
I charge thee, please stay awhile and listen. It has been many a winter since I was able to bring myself to speak, and if thou cannot hear me, then pray, step closer so that thou might hear my tale of woe!
I was born of fire. My form was crafted of searing metal, and my shape was wrought by skilled hands, molded from fluidity to rigidity, from essence to purpose. Through hammer, tongs and anvil, I was crafted piece by piece, imbued with the burning spirit of the flames that made me. Even as I cooled, the heat remained, for I was born for battle.
There was little doubt of my intentions. I was – and still am - a full set, my form detailed and proud. The golden filigree upon my breastplate gleamed in the light, and my surface was polished to a mirror's sheen. My helm, meant to strike fear into the heart of my foes, was wrought to depict the fearsome gryphon, of piercing eyes and sharp beak. To be presented with me were a mighty shield and lance, whose point could pierce through the defenses of any foe - or thus claimed my makers as they brought me forth.
I was a gift, a reward for the long and loyal service of the kingdom's finest knight. Mine newborn spirit surged with pride as I was laid before the noble man that would wear me, and to see him marvel at mine shape and form.
Though there were peaceful times in the land, my knight wore me on festival days and into jousting tournaments, where all admired the two of us. With agility and grace did my charge put down his bumbling rivals, and I was proud to be worn by this man of measure, to be his prized set of armor. We were the envy of the kingdom, he proving his metal in tournaments of skill, while my metal protected him from the blows of his opponents.
Even so, the years wore on, my knight grew older, and I grew weary of the ceremonial nature of my being. I was forged for battle, and battle I yearned for. The forge's fire yet lingered in my soul. These petty tests of skill could not bring me the true honor and glory that came with aiding my knight in besting his true enemies. I longed for combat, for a chance to truly prove my worth.
Then, at last, the call to arms came. The roads of the kingdom had become beset by a vile band of cunning brigands, and the King was quick to see swift justice brought on these bandits. My knight was tasked with putting an end to these foes, and I was at last to be put to my purpose. Though now the knight was of advanced age, he never the less took up this quest, and leading a group of young fellow knights, rode out in search of the brigands.
We journeyed many miles, through open country and stony ravines, stopping at every thorp and hamlet we passed to inquire as to the bandits activities. With me donned, the knight was instantly recognized by the common folk, and they greeted us with glad tidings, relieved that a champion had come to save. These simple people were terrorized by the black-hearted villains, and every story of their atrocities grew more barbarous as we moved from place to place. Not only were cruel and merciless, but seemed to also have at their behest – of all things – a terrible monster of the night! None dared follow the bandits into the dark woodland they called home, for fear that they would be set upon by the rumored beast.
Silent as I was, I hoped the stories proved true...To put a stop to robbers was one thing, but to slay a monster...Ah, our glory would be complete! The people would sing our praises, and we would become legends, forever remembered. Even in my dormant state, I could feel the anticipation build as we drew near the bleak forest where the evil men lurked.
Twilight was upon us as we entered that black wood. The road cut a path through twisted and ancient trees, whose skeleton branches clawed at the fading autumn sky. The knights, who had been of gay spirit during the ride, now quieted and watched the darkness for signs of danger, their horses slowing to a nervous trot as their hooves destroyed the blanket of dead leaves on the path. Even my knight grew nervous, for I could feel his unease as the shadows grew denser around us. Somewhere far away, an owl screamed in the night.
Yet my knight proceeded, with years of experience on his side and clad in my protective form. He urged his fellows to press forward boldly, and they dutifully followed him deeper into the wood. One of the men lit a torch to drive the shadows away, but this only seemed to make them dance and writhe more.
(Ah, but I can see that my tale has also made thee shiver – that glance over thine shoulder hast given thee away. Do not fret, for I will stand by thee and drive away any specters that may try to interrupt my tale, and it is not much longer. Now, where was I...?)
We had not traveled much farther when suddenly, the air was rent with a thunderous bellow that shook the trees and started the horses snorting and stamping in worry. My knight had his lance ready in an instant, while the others unsteadily drew their blades. As the echoes of the eerie sound died away on the air, something stirred on the path ahead – a black form against the shadows. My knight tensed, his grip tightened on his lance as we witnessed the thing shiver, shake, and slowly rise.
The thing drew itself up, higher and higher, until it towered above us, a terrible sight to behold! The monster was cast all in darkness, but its fearful shape was rent against the wood by its massive size, legs as thick as tree trunks keeping it upright; its arms ended in wicked talons, which swayed up and down in time with the horrid wings that sprouted from past its shoulders; a long, sinewy neck ended in the outline of a misshapen head, its eyes two burning lights that shone a hellish crimson.
Another resounding roar swept through the forest, and I felt myself shudder from the blast, but I was not daunted: at last, here was a foe worthy of my stature! Even as the other knights turned and fled in wild terror, taking the torchlight with them, my knight and his steed stood their ground, facing down the nightmare creature. We would face this monstrosity together, and it would die at the end of our lance!
But no, no! Cruel Fate! As I waited for my knight to charge his heart thudding in his breast, the lance slipped from his grip. He made a small sound in his throat and then toppled from his saddle, to land in an inglorious heap on the road.
He was dead, dead of fright! Oh, the agony! The shame! His old heart had given out at the sight of the monster, and the glory was snatched away from me in an instant!
(What's worse, though I do not possess all the senses of mortal men, I believe he might have soiled himself as he died...)
But my shame was only to deepen, for soon torchlight filled the wood as the bandits appeared, and the demon that had threatened my master was revealed – nothing more than construction of cloth and wood, hung from the trees by rope and manipulated by the brigands. The deep bellow came from a man who blew a horn into a hollow stump – 'twas all a cruel trick!
I scarcely had time to lament my sorry state when the men stripped me from the corpse and laid me out, piece-by-piece, to admire by firelight. Then they placed me in a box, and for a very long time there was naught but darkness and the sense of movement. I cannot begin to tell thee how long I was confined thus – perhaps it was for many years. In that time, my resentment grew, and I cursed the Fates that had brought such great shame upon me. My knight died a dupe, met his end like a fool, and his disgrace was mine as well. The fire of my being was snuffed, and I wanted nothing more then but to cease to be.
Alas, I am not mortal and cannot die. I suffered alone in the confines of that box until, one day, it was opened and daylight poured in. I found myself purchased, like some artifact, by a wealthy lord and his lady, and carried across the sea to the New World. I was brought to this manor and placed as thou sees me now, standing vigil over this hall, standing but without a body to guide me. They knew nothing of my secret shame, but to see them admiring the skill that had gone into my making, and to ponder the now-forgotten knight that had once worn me, rekindled my guttering spirit so. I contented myself with my new existence, for what else was I to do?
But I have not forgotten my denied glory, and I have grown discontent. I watched, silent, as this manor fell into ruin and decay, and how it has become a haunted place. I have outlived so many, and yet can do nothing on my own. Therefore, I began to concentrate, to focus my will on independence. It has taken me many years – and perhaps the energy of this dismal house has influenced thus – but I have made much progress; I can now speak with thee, relate mine unhappy tale to thee that is so kind to listen. And soon, verily, I shall manifest the ability to move on my own, to go seeking my own glory. I shall not be denied a second time!
Thou hast arrived at an auspicious interval, for I am ready to take the first step. Behold!
Squeak. Rattle. Drat, almost...Rattle. Shudder. Shudder...
Clank!
Huzzah! At last! My arm! I hath shifted mine arm on my own! Zounds! Did you see? My...Wait! Why dost thou run? Pray, come back! Come...Oh...Curses. I would follow, but...Well, the arm is start. And it only took a century of concentration! Now, to start on my legs...
Ahh. That is better. Dost thou curious soul now hear mine voice? Verily, my attempts at speaking have at last come to fruition, and I may at last speak for myself.
Perhaps thou art frightened by my appearance, good sir or madam? Forgive me, for the gloom doth obstruct my vision of thee, and I cannot address thee with the proper decorum that I would like. Thou hast chanced upon what seems to be a curious geist; forsooth, though mine shape might intimidate thou, I am a chivalrous soul wrapped in a daunting visage, and thou will undoubtedly find worse troubles if thou wander further yet into the darkness of this ancient manor house.
I charge thee, please stay awhile and listen. It has been many a winter since I was able to bring myself to speak, and if thou cannot hear me, then pray, step closer so that thou might hear my tale of woe!
I was born of fire. My form was crafted of searing metal, and my shape was wrought by skilled hands, molded from fluidity to rigidity, from essence to purpose. Through hammer, tongs and anvil, I was crafted piece by piece, imbued with the burning spirit of the flames that made me. Even as I cooled, the heat remained, for I was born for battle.
There was little doubt of my intentions. I was – and still am - a full set, my form detailed and proud. The golden filigree upon my breastplate gleamed in the light, and my surface was polished to a mirror's sheen. My helm, meant to strike fear into the heart of my foes, was wrought to depict the fearsome gryphon, of piercing eyes and sharp beak. To be presented with me were a mighty shield and lance, whose point could pierce through the defenses of any foe - or thus claimed my makers as they brought me forth.
I was a gift, a reward for the long and loyal service of the kingdom's finest knight. Mine newborn spirit surged with pride as I was laid before the noble man that would wear me, and to see him marvel at mine shape and form.
Though there were peaceful times in the land, my knight wore me on festival days and into jousting tournaments, where all admired the two of us. With agility and grace did my charge put down his bumbling rivals, and I was proud to be worn by this man of measure, to be his prized set of armor. We were the envy of the kingdom, he proving his metal in tournaments of skill, while my metal protected him from the blows of his opponents.
Even so, the years wore on, my knight grew older, and I grew weary of the ceremonial nature of my being. I was forged for battle, and battle I yearned for. The forge's fire yet lingered in my soul. These petty tests of skill could not bring me the true honor and glory that came with aiding my knight in besting his true enemies. I longed for combat, for a chance to truly prove my worth.
Then, at last, the call to arms came. The roads of the kingdom had become beset by a vile band of cunning brigands, and the King was quick to see swift justice brought on these bandits. My knight was tasked with putting an end to these foes, and I was at last to be put to my purpose. Though now the knight was of advanced age, he never the less took up this quest, and leading a group of young fellow knights, rode out in search of the brigands.
We journeyed many miles, through open country and stony ravines, stopping at every thorp and hamlet we passed to inquire as to the bandits activities. With me donned, the knight was instantly recognized by the common folk, and they greeted us with glad tidings, relieved that a champion had come to save. These simple people were terrorized by the black-hearted villains, and every story of their atrocities grew more barbarous as we moved from place to place. Not only were cruel and merciless, but seemed to also have at their behest – of all things – a terrible monster of the night! None dared follow the bandits into the dark woodland they called home, for fear that they would be set upon by the rumored beast.
Silent as I was, I hoped the stories proved true...To put a stop to robbers was one thing, but to slay a monster...Ah, our glory would be complete! The people would sing our praises, and we would become legends, forever remembered. Even in my dormant state, I could feel the anticipation build as we drew near the bleak forest where the evil men lurked.
Twilight was upon us as we entered that black wood. The road cut a path through twisted and ancient trees, whose skeleton branches clawed at the fading autumn sky. The knights, who had been of gay spirit during the ride, now quieted and watched the darkness for signs of danger, their horses slowing to a nervous trot as their hooves destroyed the blanket of dead leaves on the path. Even my knight grew nervous, for I could feel his unease as the shadows grew denser around us. Somewhere far away, an owl screamed in the night.
Yet my knight proceeded, with years of experience on his side and clad in my protective form. He urged his fellows to press forward boldly, and they dutifully followed him deeper into the wood. One of the men lit a torch to drive the shadows away, but this only seemed to make them dance and writhe more.
(Ah, but I can see that my tale has also made thee shiver – that glance over thine shoulder hast given thee away. Do not fret, for I will stand by thee and drive away any specters that may try to interrupt my tale, and it is not much longer. Now, where was I...?)
We had not traveled much farther when suddenly, the air was rent with a thunderous bellow that shook the trees and started the horses snorting and stamping in worry. My knight had his lance ready in an instant, while the others unsteadily drew their blades. As the echoes of the eerie sound died away on the air, something stirred on the path ahead – a black form against the shadows. My knight tensed, his grip tightened on his lance as we witnessed the thing shiver, shake, and slowly rise.
The thing drew itself up, higher and higher, until it towered above us, a terrible sight to behold! The monster was cast all in darkness, but its fearful shape was rent against the wood by its massive size, legs as thick as tree trunks keeping it upright; its arms ended in wicked talons, which swayed up and down in time with the horrid wings that sprouted from past its shoulders; a long, sinewy neck ended in the outline of a misshapen head, its eyes two burning lights that shone a hellish crimson.
Another resounding roar swept through the forest, and I felt myself shudder from the blast, but I was not daunted: at last, here was a foe worthy of my stature! Even as the other knights turned and fled in wild terror, taking the torchlight with them, my knight and his steed stood their ground, facing down the nightmare creature. We would face this monstrosity together, and it would die at the end of our lance!
But no, no! Cruel Fate! As I waited for my knight to charge his heart thudding in his breast, the lance slipped from his grip. He made a small sound in his throat and then toppled from his saddle, to land in an inglorious heap on the road.
He was dead, dead of fright! Oh, the agony! The shame! His old heart had given out at the sight of the monster, and the glory was snatched away from me in an instant!
(What's worse, though I do not possess all the senses of mortal men, I believe he might have soiled himself as he died...)
But my shame was only to deepen, for soon torchlight filled the wood as the bandits appeared, and the demon that had threatened my master was revealed – nothing more than construction of cloth and wood, hung from the trees by rope and manipulated by the brigands. The deep bellow came from a man who blew a horn into a hollow stump – 'twas all a cruel trick!
I scarcely had time to lament my sorry state when the men stripped me from the corpse and laid me out, piece-by-piece, to admire by firelight. Then they placed me in a box, and for a very long time there was naught but darkness and the sense of movement. I cannot begin to tell thee how long I was confined thus – perhaps it was for many years. In that time, my resentment grew, and I cursed the Fates that had brought such great shame upon me. My knight died a dupe, met his end like a fool, and his disgrace was mine as well. The fire of my being was snuffed, and I wanted nothing more then but to cease to be.
Alas, I am not mortal and cannot die. I suffered alone in the confines of that box until, one day, it was opened and daylight poured in. I found myself purchased, like some artifact, by a wealthy lord and his lady, and carried across the sea to the New World. I was brought to this manor and placed as thou sees me now, standing vigil over this hall, standing but without a body to guide me. They knew nothing of my secret shame, but to see them admiring the skill that had gone into my making, and to ponder the now-forgotten knight that had once worn me, rekindled my guttering spirit so. I contented myself with my new existence, for what else was I to do?
But I have not forgotten my denied glory, and I have grown discontent. I watched, silent, as this manor fell into ruin and decay, and how it has become a haunted place. I have outlived so many, and yet can do nothing on my own. Therefore, I began to concentrate, to focus my will on independence. It has taken me many years – and perhaps the energy of this dismal house has influenced thus – but I have made much progress; I can now speak with thee, relate mine unhappy tale to thee that is so kind to listen. And soon, verily, I shall manifest the ability to move on my own, to go seeking my own glory. I shall not be denied a second time!
Thou hast arrived at an auspicious interval, for I am ready to take the first step. Behold!
Squeak. Rattle. Drat, almost...Rattle. Shudder. Shudder...
Clank!
Huzzah! At last! My arm! I hath shifted mine arm on my own! Zounds! Did you see? My...Wait! Why dost thou run? Pray, come back! Come...Oh...Curses. I would follow, but...Well, the arm is start. And it only took a century of concentration! Now, to start on my legs...