Quest for the Cup
By Julia E. Moser
Juliet was
uncomfortable. The sash on her velvet scarlet
gown was suffocating her, but, as a knight, she had to dress
appropriately. She sighed. The feasts in Camelot were delicious, but how
could you swallow in these horribly tight dresses? Juliet walked into the banquet hall, her long
golden hair billowing behind her, and sank into a seat next to Sir Gawain. “My lady,” he greeted her graciously. She acknowledged it with a curt nod, and
became extremely interested in her goblet.
Some knights were impossible to talk to.
The feast began as King Arthur settled in his silk covered chair, and
waiters carried trays of luscious food and tubs of sweet drinks. Juliet loaded her plate with turkey, mashed
potatoes, fruit salad, all her favorites, and dug in in a most un-ladylike
fashion.
When everyone had finished, King Arthur rose from his
seat. There was a grave expression on
his face, one that Juliet knew all too well.
He had a quest for one of his knights.
She immediately tried to look as brave and eager as she could, though she knew she
had an extremely tiny chance at being picked.
The king, who had only reluctantly knighted a female, would never give
her a quest if he could help it. “Attention,
please,” he boomed, and the hall fell silent.
“A theft has been committed.
Merlin-”- at the name, the room was, if possible, even stiller-“has
reported his magical goblet missing. We
have found evidence that the cup is in possession of-” he paused, as if afraid
to say it-“Morgan le Fay.” Whispers ran through the room. Arthur looked uncomfortably at Juliet. “I have asked all of my knights but one if
they will go, but none can. Therefore,”
he looked away. “Lady Juliet shall take
up he quest.”
I cannot describe the excitement Juliet felt the next
morning as she was hustled into clunky silver armor and seen off by the
Arthurian court as she and Swiftmane, her horse, trotted off into the
distance. For the first few days, nothing
much happened. A few deer galloped
across her path, but nothing very dangerous happened until Juliet rode into the
high mountains. She stopped to rest in a
cave and fell into a deep sleep, only to be awakened by wisps of smoke above
her. She opened her eyes-to find herself
staring at a huge, scaly dragon! Juliet
stifled a cry, and drew a long, silver sword.
There was barely room for a swing, but Juliet managed a quick blow. The dragon roared in rage, stepping back, and
giving her room to stand up and finish the job. Juliet quickly rode away, wiping her hands on
her breastplate.
From there,
Juliet’s luck took a turn for the worse.
She had several nasty encounters with an ogre, a basilisk, and a
werewolf, and was extremely tired. At
last, the welcome sight of a castle loomed ahead, and she urged Swiftmane to
the front door. She knocked with the
huge brass knocker, and a pretty woman opened the door. “Err, excuse me...” Juliet began. “Oh, my dear, do come in!” the lady cut
in. “You look exhausted.” Juliet, against her training, followed her
into a beautiful palace, with red velvet carpets and polished marble
walls. The lady led her to a
comfortable, luxuriously decorated room with a canopied bed. “Rest now,” she told Juliet, “We are glad to
offer hospitality to adventurers.” She
closed the door softly behind her, leaving Juliet on the bed.
The girl looked
around the room, taking in her surroundings.
Then she saw it. A jewel-studded,
shimmering cup was sitting on the dresser.
Thoughts raced through Juliet’s mind.
Why would the cup be in such an obvious place? Was the strange lady Morgan le Fay? She reached for the goblet-but the moment her
fingers closed on the handle a screeching sound rang through the room, and a
dozen spears were pointed at her. There
was no room to draw her sword; they’d spear her before she could even pull it
out, so, craftily, she shifted the goblet to her left hand and punched the
first knight in his helmeted face. The
rest backed off, warily. “That’s right,”
she yelled at them, “No more Miss Nice Girl.”
In a few moments, she was dashing out the red-painted doors and mounting
Swiftmane, with the shouts of the castle’s inhabitants. This time she covered ground 3 times faster
than she had before, and in a few days, was welcomed back to Camelot with a
delicious feast.
The End
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