A Guinea Tale

You could say he was an outsider, because he was all the wrong shape. The same shape, but different none-the-less. For starters, he was bigger than all the others, he ate more than them, was expected to live longer than them and had a wild sleeping pattern - making it difficult to meet the demands of their nocturnal raids every second evening. He would not give up even though he was still a lowly squire awaiting his induction into knighthood, because of his guinea pig upbringing. He was brought up by his furry guinea pig parents, only for them to perish fighting for the new world rodent peace pact – a raging war amoungst the rats, guinea folk, flying squirrels and porcupines alike, which ended in most of the other species of rodents to leave the Woden lands for the rats to capitalize on and build it into Rattingworth. This definitely separated him from all the other sir-rats surrounding him in the kingdom as Gawain the Guinea pig was left to Morgause and her critters as an orphan once the wars settled.

“Gawain”, he heard from inside the Armory, “Come and attend sir Basil of Rattingworth immediately!” He made his way inside and saluted a few Rattingworth guard’s standing stoically, as best he could by grabbing the tufts of hair from his bottom and holding them to his forehead - a typical respected greeting in this part of the land, but it was birthed from obviously having the long rat-esque tails, which all the rats had for these types of pleasantries. Gawain was carrying a chainmail shirt and a wooden plated breastplate perfectly fitted for this specific knight, to dress him before the ceremony. He noticed that Sir Basil was chittering to the young rattish page boys, sitting on the floor and idolizing him with his broad toothy grin on his face and a mug of wine sloshing about in his gnarled left hand. He liked Sir Basil for his kindness, as this knight didn’t seem to mind the way Gawain looked and always specifically called out for him for special suiting up occasions.

“Ah, Sir Gawain of Burrowin. How wonderful for you to come and visit an old shard like myself.” He said, while flashing his red-stained smile and clapping Gawain on the back. He always did make up funny highborn names for Gawain to be a knight of and this warmed him dearly. “Now you must tell me how you enjoy Lady Iso’s delectable vegetable broth… she said she just had to give you three servings so that you don’t starve!” Gawain slowly wound around the page boys on the ground and found the armoury’s writing desk to lean the heavy armour on. He cleared his throat and replied, “Very good indeed sir! Your mistress makes the best broth in the kingdom!” And this is where his stomach decided to unceremoniously growl. He looked at Sir Basil sheepishly (as if a Guinea pig could) and back down at his stomach. Sir Basil’s laughter boomed throughout the echoey chamber and with this satisfaction he downed his whole mug of wine and the page boys took this as a sign to run rat-boyishly out of the room.

His crinkly aged eyes followed them out of the chamber and fell onto Gawain again, which relaxed the oversized squire. “Now then, lets suit up for the ceremony and see if we can get out of this war business eh?” He winked and beckoned Gawain over with his one good hand. Gawain dressed Sir Basil and shined his metal boots for good measure. Seeming satisfied as usual, Sir Basil gave him a respectful nod and marched to the door on the other side of the armoury, which led into the main courtroom where they were scheduled for today's proceedings. Before he grabbed the doorknob, he turned wildly around towards Gawain, so close that he felt his whiskers and smelled the wine emanating from his armour now and murmured, “Remember to chin up, pull your stomach in and be proud that you are different, but needed and that’s what gets us through this darn world in the end.” He had a sparkle in his eye that Gawain always remembered as a small guinea pig pup and he nodded at this old shard of a knight. Definitely having feelings of admiration towards him now.

Sir Basil proceeded to open the door and they were both overshadowed by the greatness of the ceremonial court, stories high with crimson red tapestries clinging to the walls, which were shining with a stoney opulence. Gawain felt intimidated every time, as it was a court that he was usually barred from, but with these ceremonies everyone was invited – even the “lowly rats” from the south region. He followed a short while and took his place amoungst the other squire’s in their allotted pew, where they turned up their twitchy noses at him and shuffled a little down from him. They were always doing this sort of thing and he never decided if it was from fear or because they thought he was too different to them and jealous of the “special” attention. Sir Basil walked on and up towards the elevated stand, where he met with Lord Ambrosai of the Woden’s kingdom - in front of the large ceremonious gathering.

Gawain couldn’t say what serious and ceremonious matters they were on about and felt his vegetable broth kicking in, giving him a bit of the sleepy eyes that could no longer focus on anything around him.

What did catch his attention and woke him up was a sudden and violent crack at the wooden doors leading to the gardens and the whole gathering shuffled in their seats and looked around alarmingly, twitching their little noses towards the strange sound. Lord Ambrosai immediately rested his acorn sceptre that he usually paraded at these things on the ground and Sir Bazil stopped mid sentence. The doors blew open, making the wooden shards spray all about the sparking foyer, highlighting a silhouette of a parachute like membrane, stretching from wrist to ankle. This different rodent-like figure with her cape flapping in the outward breeze came strolling in. Merin had her best on today, as she sported a deep purple cloak with velvety orange slippers and had a saunter without a care in her step, through to the aisle towards the front.

Sir Basil laughed to himself and grabbed another wine-filled mug from the grass-encrusted table next to him and started inhaling the liquid as if he expected all of this. Gawain had a feeling that he probably did and was always prepared. Lord Ambrosai finally announced, with an irritating edge in his voice, “Ahh, Lady Merin, enchantress of north Treetingwood. How lovely of you to join!” Sir Basil rolled his eyes, but still did a semblance of a bow towards her, which made him slosh some of the wine on the carpeted floor around him.

Merin wrapped her cloak tighter around herself and pointedly stared her beady black eyes towards them both as if they were just puppets on a stage. Her orange velvet steps were sinuous and so was her voice which uttered, “You know why I’m here dear sirs. For you see I’ve needed that acorn sceptre – a family heirloom I might add - for far too long now!!” With the last words she smacked her lips closed and stopped in her tracks. The highlord handed this acorn sceptre that she was referring to, towards Sir Basil and he held it lightly in his good hard, while still playfully sipping from the mug in his bad one, without question.

“Lady Merin,” he started again, while his hairy hackles began to stand on edge under his pompous frilly shirt, “This is not the time for such deep conversation…”

“Deep conversation?” She cut in dexterously, “I’d enjoy nothing less!” and with that, she threw her cloak back and exposed her dangerously glowing hands, which seemed to signal a charge of similar flying squirrels to glide through the open windows and front door of the courtroom that she had already exploded open upon entry. Dressed in plain woollen dresses, very different to her own, the squirrel folk seized the ratfolk around the chamber, which made Gawain shoot up to his bare furry feet and make a still sleepy movement towards Sir Basil to act as some sort of protection. The rat squires around him looked pointedly annoyed at his freedom, while they sat in the clutches of their winged capturers, but he gallantly moved on. The enchanted squirrels couldn’t seem to get a grip on his mass even with their claws and so he batted them off of himself to stand next to the knight. Merin seemed frighteningly irritated at this and began storming her way through the wild crowd towards the three. Once her army of squirrels settled the crowds down with each lowly and highborn rat in a chokehold, she cleared her throat and set her purple electrifying magic from her hands unto the Lord and Sir Basil.

The whole room of admirers and followers gasped at this scene, but did not dare move in their holds. Gawain felt helpless and scared, but she barely seemed to notice his large mass next to the highborn rats and she walked up to Sir Basil and plucked the acorn sceptre out of his hand – suspended in this purple magic, not even being able to move an eyelid at what had just happened. Her cloak brushed Gawain’s open toes and this made him automatically freeze like they seemed to be even though he wasn’t under their same spell. Merin moved towards him then and smiled a malicious smile as if she had just noticed him then, before turning to leave, but before she could round up her party to do so, a strange sound of high-pitched air sort-of trumpet filled the ceremony room and she paused.

Gawain dropped his furry hands to his belly and looked awkwardly down at it. She however did not look amused about his passing of gas, even though the entire room filled with chittering laughter at this. If he didn’t feel like the attention wasn’t on him, he felt it now as the waves of laughter seemed to anger her more and she pointed her sceptre at his grumbling belly. Before she could do any further damage, her eyes opened wide and she began foaming at the mouth. Gawain was totally shocked by this absurd response to his wind, however the air around him was filling up with a rather pungent vegetable-broth smell. She collapsed soon after and the purple magic that enveloped the highbord rats disappeared. The flying squirrels one-by-one also seemed to shake her grip from their minds and all joined in with the laughter their previous captives were still enjoying around that funny and absurd sound. Lord Ambrosai and Sir Basil gave Gawain a shocked look even though their eyes wanted to smile through it all.

Sir Basil clapped the large Guinea pig on the shoulder and muttered, “Must have been the missus’s vegetable broth giving your old stomach some trouble eh?” and he flashed that fatherly smile he usually did. The Lord shook himself straight and reached for the sceptre lying next to the sorceress, who was in her own farty trance on the floor. He regained his place and looked out to the sea of furry faces, rats and squirrels alike. “Thank Burrowin’s children, we and the acorn sceptre are safe!” The crowd whooped and cheered at this in jubilation. He then rounded Gawain’s other side and both Sir Basil and him lifted both of his hands up to the crowd for all of them to cheer him on.

“And thank this brave um…” He thought for a second and whispered to Gawain, “What are you exactly little or rather, large sir?” Gawain looked down quickly and muttered, “A guinea pig my Lord.”

“Sir Gawain of Burrowin to be exact.” Sir Basil chimed in.” And this brought some amusement to the old Lord's face.

“Let’s thank Sir Gawain of Burrowin for being the smelliest, but also the bravest rodent there ever was!”

The crowd chimed together. “Hear, hear!” and carried on their whoops and cheers, which made Sir Gawain the Outsider feel pretty at home in this kingdom.