“It was another beautiful morning in the month of June when King Odin himself was attending to business. Dragons had been infesting the area and he was assembling his greatest warriors to do away with them; among them was none other than Sir George Timenhook, a jester turned knight, though some might say he is still a jester at heart. Thor and his mighty hammer Mjolnir was also present; but he would not be leading the charge – Odin himself would be present to further the tidings and bring an end to the menace against Midgard once and for all. However, something else would get everyone’s attention first.”
“Sir George!”
The voice bellowed and everyone felt their hearts learch. It was none other than Princess Trixie, whom had otherwise not been causing any trouble since their last encounter. Appearantly something was amiss, or she wouldn’t be out and about.
“Sir George!”
Sir George appears to be spaced out, as he does not attempt to make any movements towards Princess Trixie. In fact, his hands retain that same at ease manner as his dignitiy is otherwise unmolested.
“Sir George!”
Princess Trixie pokes the knight, but there is no reaction. This time the King is intrigued, as is Thor. Thor was the first to figure it out. His hammer comes flying straight for the knight’s head; his head falls off and Trixie screams. Nothing but stuffing comes from the knight’s former neck. Thor catches his hammer like a boomerang and lets out something rare for him – a smirk.
“Clever bastard.”
Princess Trixie is too caught up in the moment to notice. Instead, she is bawling and whining and collecting the face and stuffing of her former lover.
“My Sir George! They’ve knocked the stuffing out of you!”
“Sire, it may be best if we put this dragon business on hold and dealt with matters at hand.”
The King’s advisor makes a notion towards Trixie, and otherwise the recent events come to bare. An elven princess, while not unusual, was out of place for Midgard. This was the realm of dragons, mythical beasts and otherwise mortal men. Trixie, being a princess, had too much value as it was; but being of elven nobility meant that any bad karma could lead to an all out war with the elffolk of Avalon. Here very presence here was enough to stir events that should otherwise be avoided. The King new this, everyone around them knew this, but Trixie herself seemed to be oblivious.
It was then that something unusual took place. Princess Trixie reassambled the face of the stuffed mannequin of her lover, and her smile slowly turned to something of angry. A flame jumps from her finger and in an instant the face of the dummy is scorched. Thor’s hammer drops in disbelief; King Odin and his advisor are left speechless. As Trixie walks to the gate, the crowd parts; but before she makes her final leave, she turns to Thor and the King.
“It’s been fun, but this isn’t fun anymore.”
“Good riddance, this land doesn’t need you.”
Trixie’s face turns red and a flame jumps from her hand.
“Try it witch, this hammer is wrought iron.”
She does try it, and the hand that holds the hammer let loose. In one instant, she was knocked out cold and would no longer be a handful for the kingdom.
“Damn elves!”
Thor’s attention, after letting out the fire in his hair, is towards his king.
“Odin, we need to get rid of this lass at once. If events keep transpiring as such, we will be dealing with Oberon himself.”
Odin agreed. Trixie was to be bound in iron chains, thrown onto a haywagon and would be there for the entire journey to the western lands of Avalon.
“Woe unto any dragons that get in their way.”
“Woe indeed.”
Odin looks up, and he sees a wyvern atop one of the guard posts. His tails flicks back and he knocks one of the guards over and takes a castle wall with it. A hail of fire descends into the courtyard as the wyvern lands in front of the king.
“Greetings sire.”
“Jormungand!”
Jormungand’s tail flicks back again and sends a flying hammer in another direction.
“Foolish mortal! Do you dare think that your toys can molest this beast's gallantry?! Your poultry amusements are fit for a kingdom such as this.”
This time the firedrake looms his nostrils just inches from the king and his cat-like eyes widen at an otherwise terrified officer of the kingdom.
Stolen story; please report.
“You are a worthless king not fit to lead. If I was of unsound body I would eat you where you stand and your bones would meet my teeth, mortal.”
The king was shaking. Before him was one of the most fearful abominations of all time. Jormungand was known to live in this area as one of few lone dragons; he wasn’t known for attacking humans normally; he was known as being too lazy and too weary of having to deal with Princess Trixie; so this was indeed a change of pace for his normal demeanor.
“What say you then, dragon?”
The king tried to regain his dignity and posterity. If he wasn’t going to be eaten, then he wasn’t going to act cowardly in front of his court. Steam from the dragon’s nostrils rise as he lets back his teeth into a creepy smile; however, in a more serious tone he states his business.
“The kingdom of Midgard has done nothing but disturb this one. You will leave the dragons alone, lest you stir our wrath. You will also see to it that this wretch of an elf is banished from these lands forever.”
There was utter silence in the crowd. Mere mortals would never dare to utter such ill speech of elves, let alone elven nobility; lest one be listening and inform their own kinfolk and the realms would go to war again. Such was the life of humans and more enchanted creatures. However, Jormungand being of dragon blood was not to be trifled with; his power alone could crush all of Avalon if he desired.
“And as for you dragon?”
“The kingdom of Midgard will remove itself from this realm.”
The dragon leaves no answer; he turns around, jumps to the ground once and flies off.
In utter amazement the crowd was once again silent; their kingdom would indeed be moving and Trixie would be dealt with immediately. Odin’s advisor makes one useful suggestion; magic from the elves could be used to transport the kingdom to an uninhabited land, or perhaps to a closer vantage point of one of it’s allies – one far, far away from the dragons. Odin himself was impressed at the idea, and was more amazed that he hadn’t thought of it himself.
“All men to arms. Civilians and countrymen will be holding no business until this matter is settled. Thor, you will gather a troop of no more than twenty and lead this princess on a voyage to the Avalon frontier, where she will be left at the borders.”
“Aye sire!”
“May there be mercy for our souls.”
The king’s regretful words were unheard as he gazes back of the dummy of Sir George.
“Where is this dummy anyway?”
Jormungand lets out a snort as he sees the figure of a cowardly knight riding horse underneath him. Sir George was almost never a threat, and the dragon had no business with him. Indeed, Sir George had errected the dummy during the crowd’s meeting; his goal was to abandon Midgard and journey as far, far away from the land as he could. If the princess was of elven royalty, he would sooner remain a loner his entire life than suffer the wrath of Oberon, or worse. Ymir was always nice this time of year, or so the jester thought. Just then he gazes to his left and dose a double take at the eye of a dragon staring right back at him. He veers off course and his horse topples over with him.
“You dare to defy me mortal?”
The dragon snorts as he lands behind the jester. In no time at all, Sir George was on his feet and raised his sword at the dragon.
“Stand and deliver! Your death shall be a grand one dragon!”
Sir George drops his sword and loses his composure at what happens next. Jormungand’s face turns into that creepy smile again, a strange purring noise comes from his throat and he rolls onto his belly.
“What manner of trickery? Show your intentions dragon! I will not be so easily had by a scaled-beast!”
Jormungand just continues to roll on his belly as that strange purring noise commences. Flail, Sir George’s trusty steed, lets out several whinnied laughs. He proceeds to nudge his owner at the affair. However, the minute Jormungand notices the knight riding his horse in the other direction, he leaps to the air and his tail sends the two of them flying. Sir George was left to draw his sword, only to have it bounce right off of the dragon’s thick hide. The dragon’s face lowers to the ground in front of the knight and Sir George is baffled at the display.
The game of cat and mouse went on for the next thirty minutes; but Jormungand let up at once the minute the marching of soldiers passed them by. Much chattering was going amongst them and Jormungand simply stood tall and proud as they marched past – his little plan had worked.
“Sir George, help me, please!”
There Trixie was on a wooden haywagon, bound in iron chains and held down firmly by rope. Her calls of distress went on deaf ears. Sir George turns to flail, and then looks up at the dragon. The dragon looks down at the knight.
“What say you knight?”
“What is this?”
“The elven princess has been bound in iron chain and will be disposed off at Avalon’s borders.”
“Oh.”
“You will accompany them knight.”
Sir George’s face turns white.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I am quite serious knight. Your insolence has caused me much undue unrest and your punishment will be to see this girl’s fate one last time… or else…”
Jormungand’s tail extends a set of spikes. This wasn’t the time to be arguing with his patience.
“Right you are dragon. I will…”
Sir George lurches as the princess’s voice escapes her lips again. At least now she was harmless to everyone around her; iron would keep her out of trouble.
“What say you dragon?”
Thor’s company had stopped, and the servant himself was addressing Jormungand’s presence.
“I wish to see this princess off with the puny mortals, oh grand Thor.”
Thor’s hand clenches the hammer.
“I wish to speak with Oberon himself as to why this girl is in my domain.”
“Doubtless you wish to assist us then.”
“Doubtless this is my domain and I would see your group arrive unscathed. No elves will wage war in this land this day or ever as I rule.”
That creepy smile again.
They were off into the midday’s sun; an unlikely alliance had been forged that day, and all due in part to a bratty princess. This alliance was needed out of technicality though, the group would be passing within the borders of Muspell.