"Good Sir Bear," said the noble King Glenleavale to the furry figure before him. The bear lay prostrate with paws fully outstretched upon the long red carpet that lead all the way from the doors of the Great Hall to the high throne. "You return to me today after your successful campaign to instate a recycling program in the Wild Wood. It is thanks to you that the beauty of our surroundings is once again brought shiningly to the fore. You have cleaned away the dust and dirt, the goo and grime, to reveal the natural splendour of our home. For such service is the Kingdom of the Wild Wood infinitely grateful!"
"My Lord," murmured Sir Bear from his lowly position upon the floor, "It was but a pleasure to serve you in this way. I would do it a thousand times over, for no greater reward than to bring serenity and joy to all the Wild Wood's loyal sylvan citizens!"
"You, Sir Bear, are indeed the most loyal of them all. It is right and meet that you be amply rewarded for these services you have rendered me."
"Nay, my Lord, I require no such recompense. I..."
"Nonsense, my good Sir Bear! I would be a miserly monarch indeed to deny you your heart's desire at this time. Tell me, my leal servant, what your heart desires, not for others but for itself."
"Oh my Lord, if you insist, I suppose it would not be inaccurate to say that I have long dreamt of a great joint of beef, roasted to perfection upon a silver spit, daintily spiced with the finest ingredients and juiced with the most sumptuous of royal gravies!"
"Ha! I knew it!" proclaimed the king, grinning elatedly as he raised his great royal hand. "I have happily anticipated you, my good Sir. Behold, your gustatory gift! Your king knows you better than perhaps he knows himself. The joint is right here waiting for you. Bon appétit!"
With a most magisterial swoosh, a servant standing in the corner threw back a large velvet curtain to reveal the smoking treat.
Sir Bear wasted not a moment, but with leaps and bounds found his way to the consummation of all his dearest daydreams. Such was his exultation that the king could not help but blush, signaling to this same servant to grant the good bear some privacy by closing the curtain with the same impressive swoosh as before.
Although a lingering smile remained on the king's face, his pages and stewards could nonetheless see that he was quickly sinking into one of those habitual reveries in which he would squirm and fret upon his throne. His fine regal features stamped roughly with hemorrhoidal angst, he switched this way and that as he contemplated the Wild Wood's many woes.
"Would that we had a hundred Sir Bears!" he mused aloud. "In these challenging modern times, we seem to have more problems than people. I am besieged on all fronts by those who would do me and my subjects ill! To the north lie the haunted Crooked Hills, home to the ravening Wolflords! Then there is the new threat, as yet little understood, of the vicious Kittens of Yarnball Gap. The depths of their depravity and capacity for pure evil has not been fully plumbed, but I fear it extends a great way farther down into horrors hardly imaginable. I am not even safe in my own court. I fear the machinations and insurrections of a devious few who would see me forcibly abdicated or...or even worse! Oh good heavens protect me! And what am I without...without that sweet light in my life, my dear little daughter Varicela! Oh I can't bear to think of it! Page!"
"Yes, Majesty?"
"Pour me some wine!"
"Of course, Your Majesty."
The king snuffled over his full goblet, his hand shaking as he thought of the beautiful young woman whose absence had cast such a gloomy pall over the Wild Wood. Opening the locket which hung always about his neck, he gazed lovingly upon the night-black hair, moon-white skin and starry eyes which were the pride and joy of the people. She was the mirror image of her mother.
The king looked briefly towards the velvet curtain as it swished this way and that with the exertions of the bear, whose satisfied grunts and smacking lips brought an echo of a smile back to the king's strained features. Little did he sleep, little did he eat, but much did he worry as the long days of Princess Varicela's captivity dragged on, punctuated only by the monthly letter in which she was obliged to stipulate Sulfuro's terms to ransom her from his fiery high keep.
"No!" shouted King Glenleavale, startling the page next to him, who through nothing short of a miracle managed to keep the carafe aright on its platter. "I will not negotiate with terrorists! She is safe as long as that dumb dragon thinks his extortionate offers are being seriously considered. Ha! He has another thing coming, yes he has!"
The King, suddenly impatient, wrenched his neck in the direction of the feasting bear to see if he was quite finished. Indeed, Sir Bear had wended his way 'round the curtain and was now setting a course unsteadily back to the throne. One front paw upon his bulging belly, he attempted with poor grace to stifle a roaring belch.
"Beg pardon, My Lord. Perhaps I should have adopted a more moderate pace and saved some for later."
"Nay, good Sir Bear, for this way are you fortified for future adventures in my service. I'm afraid there is yet much to be done in the interests of peace and tranquility. We are threatened on many sides, Sir Bear, as you well know. You and your squire...Wait a minute. Where is your squire?"
As though on cue, the vast hulking doors of the Great Hall flew open, revealing the sand-grain silhouette of the young chicken named Cluckphrey, loyal squire this past year to Sir Bear of the Wild Wood. Hopping forward at full tilt, he prostrated himself before the king, doing his best to flatten himself over the roundness of his tummy.
"Forgive my tardiness, Your Majesty! It shan't happen again. The hens wouldn't let me go! They still treat me like some sort of baby chick!"
The king's smile broadened, so fond was he of this innocent little bird.
"My dear Cluckphrey, all is right by me. However, 'tis not from me you should seek forgiveness." He gestured subtly towards Sir Bear, who fixed the chicken with his most ferocious perhaps-I-shall-eat-you-after-all glower.
"My Lord," said Bear, deciding to ignore his squire for the present, "Cluckphrey and I are ready to do your bidding. After a brief respite, we shall set off to bring glory to you and to this great land!"
"Yes, yes," murmured King Glenleavale, scratching distractedly at his chin stubble as he found himself again beset by an almost painful state of thoughtfulness. "Hmmm..."
Bear and Cluckphrey exchanged a look of trepidation as the suspense mounted.
The whole hall waited with bated breath in eeriest silence.
"I've got it!" boomed the king, flying to his feet, his voice rushing like the leading wave of high tide to fill each lonely crevice.
The knight and his squire began to quake in their steel boots. For all the king's goodness, Bear was nonetheless sure that he never wanted to know the bitter taste of his disfavour. Indeed, Sir Bear would do all things in his power and beyond to assure he remained always in Glenleavale's good graces.
Modulating his voice to a more acceptable tone and stridency, the king looked each one intently in the eye as he spoke the words, "I hereby charge you, Sir Bear and Squire Cluckphrey, with the most noble and daunting task of...