Castles of Myth & Men, A Yummy Medieval Story

Dusk was swiftly settling in, nightfall approaching. Where was Jerk? She had patiently waited all day. What if something had happened to him? What if that idiot Poot had deafened her beloved with his demon flute? Worse yet, what if he'd placed a curse on Jerkules?

Helena flew from the castle in a panic, racing to the stables. Arial, her magnificent gelding, stood waiting for her to mount his back.

Thirty seconds later, Arial met the trail leading into the dense forest, the retarded moon above their only light. Deeper and deeper into the woods they went, the growth getting thicker and at times blocking their path. When Helena would have given up and turned back for home, and her nightly cup of horehound tea, a light flickered in the distance.

At first, she thought the glow was the benefit of a forest firefly - but no, too bright. And then she saw them, Jerk and Poot and they were doing something not quite right. How could they? How could they be reading at a time like this? And when she had needed Jerk most? Furthermore, they were drinking spirits from a golden chalice, marked with gilded dragons and set in jewels.

A tiny tiff erupted and Poot shot off into the dark forest, not wanting to get in the middle of the spat. Jerk calmly explained that he and Poot had been experimenting with some wild herbs and poppy powder, trying to find a cure for Helena's pounding headache.

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