Elaine Version 2

Elaine the Fair, Elaine the Lovely, the Lily Maid of Astolat had taken the opportunity to make her escape from the tragic tale of her unrequited love of Sir Lancelot du Lac.

She was now choosing her own adventure as The Lady Charlotte Elaine of Shalott, entrepreneur owner of Charlotte’s Web Weaving.

Elaine found that life in the studio apartment of Shalott Tower was not as she had imagined it would be.

She realised that, in order to finance the upkeep of the place, she would need to weave steadily day and night, leaving her no time for socialising to find a knight of her own.

And it was obvious that the reputation of the previous Lady of Shalott was still haunting the tower. The village people and farm workers had all feared her predecessor. They thought she was some kind of fairy and that there was a curse on the place. When they looked up at the tower they would cross themselves and hurry on.

Elaine had expected a greeting package and a stream of visitors; but nobody ever arrived to welcome her to the neighbourhood.

And the door refused to open. The real estate agent had assured her that the door was merely swollen by the rain and usually opened easily. But she had always found it was too tightly jammed.

She had a large gilt framed mirror in her elevated weaving room which enabled her to watch the comings and goings outside the tower. They provided inspiration for fine patterns and pictures to incorporate into her projects. She envisaged a triptych titled Planting, tending and harvest of the fields of barley and of rye.

In her mirror she could see the people passing by; workers heading to the fields, village-churls, market girls, an abbot, a shepherd lad, knights riding two by two, and two young newlyweds.

Seeing all these people happily going about their lives began to grate on her and she tried her door again without success.

“I am half-sick of shadows!” she cried, giving the door a mighty kick.

The door refused to budge but the shock wave brought her wonderful mirror crashing down, cracked from side to side.

“Bleep!” said Charlotte/Elaine. “That is seven years’ bad luck! A curse has come upon me! What a way to begin a new life!”

But she was a resourceful person. She set up the two halves of the broken mirror, one on the window side of the weaving room and one on the opposite wall. That way she could see an infinite array of reflections. She waved to her reflection in the mirror and a chorus line of Charlotte/Elaines waved back at her.

Then something strange occurred. Despite the continual stream of people passing the tower, Charlotte/Elaine had never received any visitors. Nobody had brought her a welcome basket. Nobody had called to borrow a cup of honey.

But just after the mirror cracked there was a knock on her door.

She tried again to open it; still without success. So she called out “Who is there?”

“Who I am depends on what you want of me,” came the reply in a deep voice with a French accent.

“Well, what do you want? Why have you come to my door? Have you brought me a welcome basket?”

“Non.”

“Do you want to borrow a cup of honey?”

“Non. Do you have an apothecary there? Or a person wise in the blending of herbal remedies. Or do you happen to have the Holy Grail in your possession?”

“No, WE don’t!” She used the term we, so as not to appear as a lone helpless woman. He could be a wild man or a bandit or a user of non-prescription herbals. “Who are you?”

“What do you need? Can I expel a dragon from your graveyard and lift a marble tomb slab to reveal my name? Or may I help you out of a tub of boiling water? ”

“Most certainly not!”

“Ah, well then, if you do not have an apothecary or an herb blender, do you have an apple tree under which I may rest?”

“I really do not know. I have not been able to get out into the garden to see what is planted there. If you can find an apple tree there you are welcome to use it.

That could be a possible additional revenue stream. If she did have an apple tree she could lease its shade and horse tethering place to passing knights.

Suddenly it seemed very important to Charlotte/Elaine to be able to open the door. She wanted to charge this person for the privilege of resting.

“My door is jammed. Would you be able to open it?”

“Certes! Stand back s’il vous plait!”

There were sounds of rattling, thumping and grunting.

“I cannot open it. I will have to get a battering ram.”

If a battering ram were used Charlotte/Elaine’s door would be destroyed. She would have the expense and inconvenience of replacing it.

“No, don’t break the door!” she called out urgently.

 “I am feeling an episode coming on. I must find an apple tree. Give you good day. Ah, you do have an apple tree!”

“Then I need you to open the door so I can charge you rent for using it.”

“With a battering ram?”

“NO!”

“I am sorry! I have but the strength of 9.999 recurring men and I cannot open it. Galahad has the strength of 10 because his heart is pure. 🐾

But I am not still he and he is not yet…..

I cannot do it without a battering ram!

But first I must lie down under your apple tree.”

“Will you be alright?”

“Probably.”

“What did you say your name was?”

“I am not sure whether I know it myself yet. I seem to be between names.”

“What do other people call you?”

“The Lady of the Lake calls me King’s Son.”

‘Oooh, a prince!’ thought Charlotte/Elaine. ‘I was not expecting that!’ He would be able to pay a good rate to rest under her apple tree and also pay for a new door.

“You may use any necessary force to open my door,” she said.

“I will return with a battering ram; but first I must rest under your apple tree.”

Charlotte/Elaine looked out her tower window. She could not see an apple tree. So she moved one section of the mirror to show a different angle. Ah, there it was, her apple tree, with the reins of a huge white battle stallion looped over a branch.

The person was lying on his side facing her. He was stunningly handsome with thick coal black curls and lustrous dark eyes. He looked like a younger version of the man that she, in her previous identity as Elaine of Astolat, had nursed for months on end. And that man had broken her heart!

‘And he is a really handsome prince,’ thought Charlotte/Elaine. He had wedged himself on his side between his saddle and a pack roll and waved up at her indicating that he was settled.

Elaine went back to her weaving.

At lunch time she looked out to see whether he was still there. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

She checked again at afternoon tea time and he still slept.

By tea time, when she checked again, and he was still sleeping, she began to become anxious. It would be dark soon.

What would happen if he did not wake up? Or what if he snuck away at night and did not return?

What if he was enchanted and could not wake up and lay under her apple tree for a hundred years? What if he needed to be kissed in order to wake up? She would be delighted to be the one to kiss him.

But to do that she would need to get her door open and Someone Else might come along and kiss him first. And he would go off with that Someone Else and forget all about returning with a battering ram.

Charlotte/Elaine felt a surge of jealousy and anger toward that Someone Else. He was HER handsome prince, lying under HER apple tree, and about to open HER door, and pay HER handsomely for resting under HER apple tree!

Maybe she should try to wake him up. She leaned out the window “Hey, King’s Son!” she called. “It is time to wake up now. Get the battering ram before it gets too dark!” But he continued to sleep.

Charlotte/Elaine had her own tea and went to bed. When she looked out next morning he was still asleep and there was another knight standing beside him, looking at him with concern. ”Come on Lance, wakey-wakey!” he was saying.

Charlotte/Elaine wondered whether this was Someone Else and determined to stake her claim.

“King’s Son was coming to open my door but he needs to get a battering ram first,” she said.

“How long has he been here?”

“Since yesterday morning.”

“Hmm! That’s a bit too long. I think he needs an apothecary or a blender of herbals. Do you have one of those?”

“No.”

“And I don’t suppose you have the Holy Grail?”

“No.”

“Well then, I need to get an urgent message to Merlin. Do you have a messenger service?”

“No. I am sorry. I have not lived here very long and I have not had my pigeons redirected yet.”

“In that case I will have to go back to Camelot and bring Merlin; and hope I do not get waylaid by Sir Breuse Sans Pitie on the way.”

“Can you open my door before you go?”

“Look Lady, if Lancelot cannot open it without a battering ram, I have no hope of opening it!”

“Why did you call him Lancelot?”

“I am allowed to - he is my cousin. I am Lionel de Ganis. Pleased to meet you.”

“Why did he say was Galahad?”

“His parents called him Galahad. And the Lady of the Lake called him King’s Son; because she stole him and didn’t know they were calling him Galahad. But nobody called him Lancelot, which was his grandfather’s name; because, as Lancelot, he is heir to the throne of Benoic. And they were all trying to keep him hidden from the usurper, King Claudas, until he grew up and could take back the throne.”

“Why doesn’t he call himself Lancelot now then?”

“Because he has to perform various tasks and build his reputation to confirm his right to the name and the title.

“So how do you know all this?”

“I am his cousin. Me and my brother, Bors, look out for him while he is on his quests; because he has blackouts occasionally. He is usually fine after he has slept but sometimes… which is why I need to go now. Someone will be back to save you soon. Adieu!”

Now Charlotte/Elaine’s concern had shifted from her needs to the well-being of her handsome prince and she looked out her window every few minutes to check on him.

At about mid-day when she looked out there were four richly dressed ladies loading him onto a litter.

Several days had passed since Sir Lionel had promised to send someone to open her door but nobody came. Maybe he had been waylaid.

And there was no telling what had become of her handsome prince, King’s Son. He had been taken away on a litter by women Charlotte Elaine thought of as the Four Witch Queens.

She was having problems with her plumbing as well. Her bath had a plug hole which was not correctly aligned to the outlet pipe; which meant she was not able to drain her bath. And the hot water was always far too hot for her liking.

Her pigeons had still not been redirected.

She painted a HANDYMAN WANTED sign on a linen square and hung it from her tower room window. But the locals still crossed themselves and hurried away.

The reason soon became apparent.

When Charlotte/Elaine was planning her move to Shalott Tower she had ordered several items which were to be delivered to the tower. Because she had not been able to open her door the parcels had been left on her doorstep. One night it rained very heavily. The rain blew into the doorway at an angle and soaked all the parcels.

Charlotte/Elaine had planned to be environmentally conscious and have a compost bin. She had ordered WRM01E WORM FARM starter pack. Unfortunately she had been sent WRM01W WYRM starter pack which contained a miniature wyrm dragon. It would remain small and inactive unless soaked in water.

She had wondered at the great cost and why she had been required to pay a Cartage of Dangerous Goods surcharge; and state her intended use of the product. She had declared the use as environmental care; not knowing that despotic kings and warlords used WYRM01W to lay waste to lands they wished to conquer.

So the day after the rainstorm Charlotte/Elaine had a full sized Wyrm dragon running around her tower, scorching all the plants with its fiery breath. No wonder nobody was coming to open her door!

Charlotte/Elaine wrote on another linen square and hung it out the window.

HELP! HELP!

S.O.S.

Save Our Shalott!

Then, thinking she should probably be more specific about the nature of the help she needed; she pulled her banner back in and added

EXWYRMINATOR NEEDED

She hung the sign out again hoping it would be visible from a distance.

Now she was covered in paint and decided to pour herself a bath. She remembered her plumbing problems too late; and when she tried to get out of the bath to let it cool somewhat, she found that her toe was firmly stuck in the misaligned plughole.

Not knowing what to do Charlotte/Elaine eased herself back into the bathtub and prayed she would be found before she boiled or starved, and that an experienced exwyrminator would arrive soon.

It was not long at all before a voice floated up to her. It was a deep, mellow voice with a French accent.

“C’est moi!”

“I have returned as promised, avec le battering ram.”

“King’s Son? I had hoped you were the Exwyrminator!

I have a full sized wyrm dragon running round my tower and scorching my garden and the locals are too scared to face it and help me.”

“Ah, I see it! I will hit it avec le battering ram to render it unconscious while I open your door.”

“I would prefer you to kill it!”

“That is so barbaric! You know they are on the Endangered Species list?” In France we have protocols for relocating wyrms.

There was a hissing, roaring, growling, whistling noise and then a dull whump followed by a gentler whoosh which sounded like a giant balloon deflating.

“I do hope I have not killed it! Now for La Porte. Stand back s’il vous plait.”

“I’m in the bath,” called Charlotte/Elaine.

“I can wait until you are dressed. But you must hurry in case the wyrm awakes.”

This could be embarrassing!

“I am actually stuck in an overheated bath surrounded by steam” she called.

“Ah, I know this scenario. I will return shortly with personages to guard your modesty. Adieu!”

 Then came a loud thump and the sound of her door splintering, sounds of footsteps on the stairs.

And Charlotte/Elaine saw her handsome prince, King’s Son, advancing through the swirling steam.

“Give me your hand and step out. I will avert my eyes” he said.

“I cannot. My toe is wedged in the plug hole.”

“Oh dear, this is most embarrassing and quite unprecedented! Could you please just try taking my hand and stepping out first? I will avert my eyes”

Much to her amazement her toe was now free of the plug hole and she was able to step out of the bath.

Immediately a dumpy little middle aged lady rushed into the room with an armload of clothes.

“My popsy!” exclaimed the dumpy little lady.

“Who are you?” asked Charlotte/Elaine

“Aww, lawk-a-mussy, the steam has quite addled her; so that she does not know her Brisen, her childhood nurse! Here Popsy, wear the blue gown.”

When dressed Elaine went downstairs. King’s Son was talking to an elderly man who wore a crimson cloak edged with ermine and had kingly crown atop his silvered receding hairline.

“All written in the prophecies, you know. Elaine is descended from Joseph of Arimathea and you, Sir Lancelot, are related to King David” the king was saying.

“I am not sure whether I can lay claim to that title!” King’s Son said.

“Easily settled, I know where there is a marble slab on your future grave. Only you can lift it. It has your name engraved on the underside” the kingly man said.

“Ah, here she is now – my lovely daughter, Elaine!”

“No!” cried Charlotte/Elaine. “My father is Bernard of Astolat. I don’t even know who you are. This is all too weird for me!”

“Well, this is a pretty kettle of fish! King Pelles, the Fisher King. Pleased to meet you. I must admit my daughter, Elaine, is substantially taller than you. But you both have that beautiful honey blonde hair and blue eyes. And everything else fits – prophecies, tower, steam filled bath entrapment, wyrm dragon slain.”

“I haven’t actually slain it. It is just unconscious. I plan to relocate it to a sanctuary.”

“Despite the few discrepancies, you two need to get acquainted – eat pheasant and oysters, drink strong wine laced with love potions and get to work on giving me a grandson. Off to the chamber you go and close the door after you!”

“It is a kind offer. But, I must decline.” said Lancelot. “It is never wise to force fulfilment of prophecies.

‘I certainly wasn’t expecting that.’ She thought.