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fandomweekly2026-06-14 06:05 pm
m_findlow) wrote in fandomweekly2026-06-14 06:05 pm
Entry tags:
[#302] WE DON'T NEED ANOTHER HERO (ORIGINAL)
Theme Prompt: #302 - Champion
Title: We don’t need another hero
Fandom: Original
Rating/Warnings: PG.
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1,000 words
Summary: Lenna’s brother has brought her to the tourney under false pretenses.
Lenna woke to the distant sounds of steel swords ringing against one another. The sound was so foreign and unnatural for someone accustomed to waking only to the sound of birds and the occasional whinny of horses.
She pulled back the scratchy blanket and yawned. It was cooler inside the small makeshift tent than it should have been, and she realised the resin for it was that she was alone. Her brother Arrun should have been there beside her, sharing their meagre quarters, but he was gone. Perhaps it was later that she realised and she'd overslept. That seemed unlikely. She was always awake at daybreak, ready to start her day in the fields. A lie in for a farmer's daughter was as unlikely as the return of dragons to the realm.
She pushed back the flap on the tent and crawled to a standing position, smoothing down her skirts. Their horse Marguerite stood stifling where she had been hobbled to a tall birch, fossicking in the grass around her for young tasty shoots. She whickered softly as she noticed Lenna and paused to let her hand gently rub at the soft flank of her hindquarters. She wasn't a draught horse but she was sturdy and capable of pulling a hoe. What she lacked in speed she made up for in strength.
Lenna could smell the smokiness of bacon being blackened over a fire. It made her mouth water and yearn for more than bread and cheese. For a few coppers they might be able to buy some of the charred meat from a vendor, or even just a cob of bread soaked in some of the drippings, but that was a luxury they didn't need. It was enough to have left the farm unattended for a few days to travel. Then again, she might as well simply enjoy the spectacle and the break from routine. It wasn't every day that the King hosted a tourney.
Lenna navigated a sea of makeshift tents towards the open field beyond. Perhaps Arrun was practising his aim before the archery contest began in earnest. There were many men doing just that, fletchings being remade and arrows whipping towards the strawbale targets, but no Arrun amongst them.
As she wandered the maze of people and pavilions, taking in the sights and smells, she passed him by without recognising him. Lenna! A tall figure dressed head to toe in mail and plate grabbed her hand before she could slip away. She turned, startled, and then as she saw his face, her own turning to stony anger. ‘No.’ She ripped her hand away. ‘No, no, no!’
‘Lenna…’
‘You said you came here to take part in the archery!’ She noted the battered wooden shield propped nearby against a tree stump, its painted surface so badly worn that no House or emblem could be made out. A shield for a hedge knight of no standing family name. The armour too was tarnished and dented in places, but a decent enough fit for a tall man. ‘We cannot afford that armour,’ she told him. It must have cost 800 silver stags or more.
‘The merchant who sold it to me agreed to purchase it back at a discount depending on the condition of it. It will be returned in as good a state as it was given.’
Lenna grabbed his forearm, the steel vambrace ice cold beneath her hands. She tugged but he was immovable as a mountain in all that steel. ‘I won't let you do this!’
‘I have a chance to prove myself,’ Arrun replied. ‘An archer with a keen eye is still just an archer. But a man who can sit a horse with sword and shield and with decent enough skill can be offered a place as a City Watchman or as guard for any one of the House lords here. Maybe even a knighthood.’
Lenna's expression remained hard. ‘And have you seen these other men planning to compete in the jousting? They are the knights of these lords. You cannot hope to beat them all.’ To think that he could be the King's champion only proved to her that Arrun had lost his mind.
‘I don't have to beat them all. Only some.’
Lenna looked around the field, seeing the silk standards of the great Houses dotted everywhere, their gold and silver fringes flapping in the morning breeze. ‘You could get yourself killed. It's not worth it.’
Arrun tipped his head. ‘Not worth it? Not worth being paid in coin? Not worth a position amongst greater men? A chance to give you a better life than harvesting potatoes?’
‘I'm happy with the life we have. Father left us his croft.’
‘Land we don't even own! You are owed more than a life of hardship. You should be married and have children.’
She bowed her head in shame at the memories. ‘A man does not deserve a barren wife.’
Arrun scowled. ‘Some men deserve no wife at all. Least those that abandon their wives. We have a chance to change that. A chance to meet better men with good hearts and steady incomes.’
‘I would rather live all the rest of my days childless and with my hands and knees in the dirt than let you risk death for a dream. A hundred years of tilling soil and digging up vegetables would be worth the price to keep her brother by her side. I can be content with that.’
‘I cannot,’ came the reply as Arrun's expression turned hard and dark. He suddenly looked every part the stoic knight readying to do battle for the honour of his King and the realm. Lenna let her hands slip from his arm as he bent down to pick up the wooden shield and helm. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. ‘Wish me luck, dear sister. Whilst other knights seek the favour of the Queen, there is only one woman whose love and adoration I need.’
Title: We don’t need another hero
Fandom: Original
Rating/Warnings: PG.
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1,000 words
Summary: Lenna’s brother has brought her to the tourney under false pretenses.
Lenna woke to the distant sounds of steel swords ringing against one another. The sound was so foreign and unnatural for someone accustomed to waking only to the sound of birds and the occasional whinny of horses.
She pulled back the scratchy blanket and yawned. It was cooler inside the small makeshift tent than it should have been, and she realised the resin for it was that she was alone. Her brother Arrun should have been there beside her, sharing their meagre quarters, but he was gone. Perhaps it was later that she realised and she'd overslept. That seemed unlikely. She was always awake at daybreak, ready to start her day in the fields. A lie in for a farmer's daughter was as unlikely as the return of dragons to the realm.
She pushed back the flap on the tent and crawled to a standing position, smoothing down her skirts. Their horse Marguerite stood stifling where she had been hobbled to a tall birch, fossicking in the grass around her for young tasty shoots. She whickered softly as she noticed Lenna and paused to let her hand gently rub at the soft flank of her hindquarters. She wasn't a draught horse but she was sturdy and capable of pulling a hoe. What she lacked in speed she made up for in strength.
Lenna could smell the smokiness of bacon being blackened over a fire. It made her mouth water and yearn for more than bread and cheese. For a few coppers they might be able to buy some of the charred meat from a vendor, or even just a cob of bread soaked in some of the drippings, but that was a luxury they didn't need. It was enough to have left the farm unattended for a few days to travel. Then again, she might as well simply enjoy the spectacle and the break from routine. It wasn't every day that the King hosted a tourney.
Lenna navigated a sea of makeshift tents towards the open field beyond. Perhaps Arrun was practising his aim before the archery contest began in earnest. There were many men doing just that, fletchings being remade and arrows whipping towards the strawbale targets, but no Arrun amongst them.
As she wandered the maze of people and pavilions, taking in the sights and smells, she passed him by without recognising him. Lenna! A tall figure dressed head to toe in mail and plate grabbed her hand before she could slip away. She turned, startled, and then as she saw his face, her own turning to stony anger. ‘No.’ She ripped her hand away. ‘No, no, no!’
‘Lenna…’
‘You said you came here to take part in the archery!’ She noted the battered wooden shield propped nearby against a tree stump, its painted surface so badly worn that no House or emblem could be made out. A shield for a hedge knight of no standing family name. The armour too was tarnished and dented in places, but a decent enough fit for a tall man. ‘We cannot afford that armour,’ she told him. It must have cost 800 silver stags or more.
‘The merchant who sold it to me agreed to purchase it back at a discount depending on the condition of it. It will be returned in as good a state as it was given.’
Lenna grabbed his forearm, the steel vambrace ice cold beneath her hands. She tugged but he was immovable as a mountain in all that steel. ‘I won't let you do this!’
‘I have a chance to prove myself,’ Arrun replied. ‘An archer with a keen eye is still just an archer. But a man who can sit a horse with sword and shield and with decent enough skill can be offered a place as a City Watchman or as guard for any one of the House lords here. Maybe even a knighthood.’
Lenna's expression remained hard. ‘And have you seen these other men planning to compete in the jousting? They are the knights of these lords. You cannot hope to beat them all.’ To think that he could be the King's champion only proved to her that Arrun had lost his mind.
‘I don't have to beat them all. Only some.’
Lenna looked around the field, seeing the silk standards of the great Houses dotted everywhere, their gold and silver fringes flapping in the morning breeze. ‘You could get yourself killed. It's not worth it.’
Arrun tipped his head. ‘Not worth it? Not worth being paid in coin? Not worth a position amongst greater men? A chance to give you a better life than harvesting potatoes?’
‘I'm happy with the life we have. Father left us his croft.’
‘Land we don't even own! You are owed more than a life of hardship. You should be married and have children.’
She bowed her head in shame at the memories. ‘A man does not deserve a barren wife.’
Arrun scowled. ‘Some men deserve no wife at all. Least those that abandon their wives. We have a chance to change that. A chance to meet better men with good hearts and steady incomes.’
‘I would rather live all the rest of my days childless and with my hands and knees in the dirt than let you risk death for a dream. A hundred years of tilling soil and digging up vegetables would be worth the price to keep her brother by her side. I can be content with that.’
‘I cannot,’ came the reply as Arrun's expression turned hard and dark. He suddenly looked every part the stoic knight readying to do battle for the honour of his King and the realm. Lenna let her hands slip from his arm as he bent down to pick up the wooden shield and helm. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. ‘Wish me luck, dear sister. Whilst other knights seek the favour of the Queen, there is only one woman whose love and adoration I need.’