On the Wings of Hope : Prose

Sir Harold was starting to lose his patience. Enough time has passed already since that moment when Angelina should appear, but her trace still didn’t appear at all, not to mention becoming cold. And it was an easiest task to catch a cold here - a dank north wind started to blow by midnight, and clouds began to mass highly in a sky, apparently indenting to water the sinner Earth with a long-held tears. Over the earth, paying its last tribute of heat to a night air, a fog started condensing out of nowhere. Sir Harold, who began patting his armor with steel gauntlets and tapping with heels of feet on the hardened ground in a vain hope to be warmed, was almost ready to abandon this useless, judging from the point of place, deed, as suddenly unpredicted, inexplicable, bewitching and frightening phenomenon has appeared.

Directly to his dislocation, slowly and inevitably, being unsteady here and there, slicing a disobedient gray fog with feet and muttering something ominously muffled under own nose, a walking dead was moving. He was being approached by a revived dead man - the very embodiment of these infernal places, where traitorous Angelina has finally persuaded him to come!

Sir Harold had no more doubt - the hours, spent in this ground crypt, were a great acknowledgment to that feeling. A fear of the enemy, which has suddenly came out of nowhere; a curiosity, which it has born; anger on the eccentrical daughter of a foolish count; awe before her as well - all this has now mixed up in a heart of knight Harold into one indescribable and explosive mix, so much stronger than the one, knight William was capable of making from a red Burgundian wine. Without a second thought and realization of what he is aspiring to make, sir Harold rushed forward in a direction of those midnight tombs’ spawn, swinging his sword and instinctively closing his head with a shield, shouting something unrecognizable in the process.

Only the god of the dead probably knows, what exactly sir Harold was yelling during those instants of time. Perhaps, these were last words of a warrior, who suddenly realized the approach of his death and first and last time in his lifespan dared to look into its eyes without fear … Or, possibly, these were words of a lover, rushing to face the enemy and protect his beloved one … Or, maybe, these were mutual agonal damnations of former friends, who have gone into their hatred far too far. Heck, who really knows what he was screaming! It’s truly difficult to notice that in minutes like that. Anyway, but in that very instant of time, when he at last reached oh-so-dead-one and with all possible force smashed him with a sword into armored chest, his last words sounded approximately like : “ … ie, beast !”

Oh-m-m-m-m-y-y-y-y-y-y! Ouch, it hurts! Now I’m gonna make you, assh … ! - the almost-dead-one started to yell, and, having dumped a helmet from a left hand, which has unknowingly taken a place there, and having bared his feet (or were initially like those ?), jumped out forward, violently swinging his sword in turn. - Now I’ll make ye! Like that! And that way! Y-e-a-a-h-h! Take that, you! W-w-h-h-h-o-o-o-h-h-h! - he continued screaming, turning around over his feet and sending new blows to the unknown foe.

Finally, either having been inspired with a made progress, or having definitely lost all battle heat, it suddenly ceased swirling and stupidly stared ahead.

- Harold! - William! - William! - Harold! - suddenly shouted both died one, as well as nearly died one.

- What are you doing here?! You have nearly killed me, you iron fool!

- Just look at yourself, dressed up like a walking dead and roam the nights dead one knows where!

- Boys! - approaching female voice suddenly broke the chill darkness. - Boys, don’t even dare to quarrel!

And, having that said, just like a werewolf from a night, maiden Angelina, or Anzhelina, or even Angelica, or just even Angela for members of her family only, or pretty simply “my beloved”, appeared, covered in a bit disarranged from a fast running plaid.

- I’ll explain it all to you right now! - she promised, smiling. - Well, here … it’s … a timeframe accident, yes, - she admitted confusedly.

- You! - sir Harold exhaled.

- You! - sir William repeated just the same.

- How dared you! - Harold croaked.

- How you dared! - William paraphrased.

It seemed as if former friends, who have now almost come to senses from a previous shock of their meeting, are now ready to seize each other once more.

- Duel! - sir William shouted.

- Duel!- sir Harold confirmed his fears.

- Up to the first blood! - sir William tried to be more specific.

- You bet! - sir Harold encouraged him.

- Let’s do it! - sir William allowed.

- To battle! - sir Harold ascertained.

- K-k-k-i-i-i-i-l-l-l-l him! - Angelina screamed suddenly.

And a fight, which has almost taken place, still remained insolvent.

- So you … - sir Harold tried to begin.

- Has made us meet together for purpose … - sir William tried to continue.