As he picked himself up from the ground, he was pretty sure that at least one rib was broken. As he did, he heard an all too familiar voice: “You silly, stupid knight! Which part of that uselessly large head of yours thought it was a bright idea to go fight an ogre without using your armour? Did you really find it necessary to have me save you in the nick of time again? Really, first a banshee, then an ogre. What are you going to piss off next? A dragon?”
“Not now, Llaweyra,” he groaned. She could point out his stupidity as much as she liked, after he had found a way to loose the rampaging ogre.
“Yes now!” the fairy yelled at him. “Put your crest on, you silly knight.”
“The giantess ripped it from my shoulder. Besides, that’s not…”
“The real one, you ogre-brained idiot,” Llaweyra shouted as she dove for his waist.
“What…” Avarron stammered, having no idea what the fairy was talking about.
“You put me in there with the bloody thing. Did you seriously think I’d fail to notice? Do I have to do everything, then?” she asked annoyed when Avarron failed to respond. she opened his pocket and pulled the black with silver crest out of his pocket and carried it up to his shoulder.
“Llaweyra, ogre,” Avarron said insistently as the hulking shape became visible through the trees. “Here. Now!”
“I knooow,” Llaweyra replied as she fixed the crest to his shoulder with a flash of green and blue coloured light.
As soon as she did that, Avarron felt a tingle through his skin as his scale-mail armour started to shift, as if it was alive. He felt his armour and gauntlets quickly mold themselves into a perfect fit, as if they were a second skin.
Time to figure out what benefits Llaweyra’s enchantment offered him, he did not have. The ogre had decided to breach the distance between them by throwing his tree at him. As the trunk flew towards him, Avarron reflexively dodged behind a tree. The trunk crashed just beside him and it sent a hail of snapped off roots in all directions. He raised his arms to shield his face from a storm of splinters that came upon him like a volley of arrows. His armour deflected the sharp wood. His face received several scratches, but nothing life-threatening. Then the tree’s crown slid past. The branches picked him up and he tumbled along for a brief, wild ride.
As he regained his feet with but a few scratches and bruises from the tree, Avarron looked at his armour in amazement. It had changed colours from its usual metallic to a granite grey. It was as if his armour had disappeared and a layer of solid rock had come in its place. That’s also how it felt, as he couldn’t move an inch, like he was trapped inside a statue of himself. “Llaweyra, what did you do?” he asked. At least his mouth could still move.
“You did this, silly knight. Though that was quite smart,” Llaweyra admitted.
“I don’t even know what I did. How do I undo it?” Avarron asked annoyed.
“That should do the trick,” Llaweyra giggled.
Just as he was about to tell her how fed up he was with her ever-cryptical and non-informative answers, he started to get feeling back in his fingers. Mere moments later, he could move again as if the whole incident hadn’t happened.
“Very good,” Llaweyra cheered. “Now, are you finally gonna draw your sword and slay that ogre, or will you just keep standing here, acting as much like a stupefied moron as he is?”
Avarron looked at the ogre. It was at least as surprised as he was himself. He climbed on top of the tree trunk and drew his sword. “Right, go for the eyes, he told himself.”
Avarron headed down the tree trunk. At the same time, the ogre also came forward. “Crush you more,” it roared. Avarron increased his pace into a run into a series of leaps from branch to branch of the lying tree. They met as he reached the highest branches that could hold his weight. Using his momentum, Avarron swung his blade in a large upward arc, cleaving the ogre’s chin. It staggered backwards as Avarron leapt off of the top branch, aiming to take out one of the ogre’s eyes.
He didn’t get quite far enough and his blade sank into the ogre’s chest, just below the neck. Howling in pain, the ogre grabbed him and threw him away. He barely managed to pull his sword along.
He braced himself, but found himself slowing down mid-flight before he crashed into a tree and fell. With aching and trembling limbs, he picked himself up from the ground.
“Man, you fly worse than a mole,” Llaweyra giggled.
“Llaweyra, humans can’t fly,” Avarron told her impatiently.
“Yes, you just demonstrated that rather well. Have you tried flapping your wings or are they purely decorative?”
“In case you hadn’t noticed yet, we don’t have wings,” Avarron shouted. “Now, if you’re able to get serious for just one minute, I’d really appreaciate some of that levitation magic of yours.
“Hee, if you’re not gonna be stubborn this time, I can give you some flying lessons.”
“I won’t,” Avarron promised.
Before she could do anything, there was a voice shouting from behind the ogre: “Hold on, you two!”