Sir Llamalot

Written for laughs, and I wasn't really thinking.

Once upon a time, there was a young llama who dreamed to be a knight in a shining armor. Every night he'd fall asleep with that wish on his mind, and in his sleep he'd gallop ahead of his troops, all covered in beautiful, shiny armor, with a long, powerful sword in his jaws, trampling and slashing the enemies to the ground. The war would be gloriously won and his archers would send a triumphatic fiery arrows to the night sky and they'd glow just like the falling stars, while he'd be carried back to the castle by his faithful dragoons on their white horses; and in the castle there would be a good, old king, and the llama would kneel before him, and then would be told to straighten up and embraced by the strong, metal-clad arms in the gesture of appreciation and thankfulness for saving the mighty kingdom.
Then the llama would wake up and realize he was still stuck on the high meadow with his life revolving around clouds, grass and sleeping. Grazing among his clan mates he'd plan battles and as such improve his tactical skills, and he'd wonder what he'd have to do to put them to use.
When the llama grew up, he was already so full of plans and dreams he could not take it anymore. Had he said good-byes to his family and friends, he set off to a one-llama crusade to find a king whom he could serve and knights from whom he could learn. He traveled far, through the hills and forests and rivers and lakes and a small desert, and then yet more forest, and finally--tired, his hooves worn out and his fur in tangles--he stood before a beautiful castle of white walls and crystal windows.
As he walked closer, he noticed guards standing in front of the castle in shiny armors and long swords to their sides, and thought, One day I want to be just like them! But they laughed at him when he expressed his wish to see the king, and they were untouched by his begs and cries, but finally--they let him into the stables. These were full of small rooms in which there were strong stallions and beautiful mares of horses he has seen before only from the distance. The llama stared at them for a while, at their long, silky manes and clean hooves, then looked at his own body, which seemed to be so ugly and deformed compared to theirs and he wept.
But there was an old caretaker, who took liking to the little llama. He laughed at his wish to become a knight, too, but it wasn't the laugh of a mocking bird, rather a warm, encouraging laugh of a hearty papa; and then he said:
"Y'know what, lad? You're gonna be a knight. A knight no one has ever seen before, yet the greatest knight this tiny little crappy town has ever born. And I will help you with that."
"You will...?" said the llama, his muzzle lightening with joy.
"Oh, yes. I love challenges, and this is the hardest of them, but I'm up to it."
"Am I up to it?" the llama asked. "I'm just a little llama..."
"You can be anything you want, lad, if you only try very hard."

And so, the old caretaker taught the llama everything he knew, everything he had seen throughout the years, watching and accompanying the knights of the kingdom. And the llama learned it all with love and passion, because that was what he had always wanted to be and to do. The studies were hard and the sword was heavy; tears were shed and hooves were broken, but the old caretaker was always there for him to smear special cooling balm in them and cut out the overgrown soles. And the llama strived to become stronger and greater than any llama could ever be, knowing only that could bring him to fulfilling his dreams. There were days of stubborness and nights of doubts, but a few years later, when the llama went out of the stables twice as tall as a human, with his fur flowing down the sides in short, shiny waves, and with strong deadly hooves, the guards at the gates looked twice. By his side there was a mighty sword even more beautiful than their own, with a silver llama head on the top of the hilt and the blade made of Damask steel, hung on the special llama harness, so that he could reach to it with his teeth.
The guards stared at him in wonder as he approached proudly and escorted him to the throne hall, old caretaker at his side. The king was frowning while he leaned over a huge, tactical map of the borders of his kingdom. There were small goblin figurines and flags scattered across it and the llama analyzed the setting immediately, his mind devilishly trained.
"Move your troops over to the west, pretending to retreat, and let the goblins enter. Then you can attack them by surprise from behind."
"What did you say?" the king raised his eyes from above the map and focused them on the old caretaker. "About the surprise?"
"It wasn't me, my King," the old caretaker said. "It was my comrade here."
The king moved his glance over to the llama and stared him down for a moment. The llama felt hot on his ears, but he straightened up and stared back.
"That was an interesting suggestion," the king said, walking up to the llama. Then, finally, he smiled. "What's your name, llama?"
The llama hesitated for a while and fell down onto his knees. "The name is for you to choose," he said. "...my King."
Loud, hearty laugh broke the air as the king looked down at the huge llama at his feet and said:
"I like this one!"

The huge, fearsome llama covered by shiny plates of his mithril armor, galloped ahead of his troops with a long, steel sword grasped hard in his jaws. The goblins lay down at his feet with every slash like corn lies down at the feet of a skilled cropper, and if any of the monsters were still alive, they soon died trampled by his hooves, now covered in warm, black blood. The last remains of his enemies fled in terror and he stood there in the middle of the battle field, while the archers sent a triumphatic salvo of fiery arrows to the sky to glow like the falling stars.
The dragoons grabbed him and he balanced on the backs of a strong stallion and a beautiful mare while they brought him back to the castle.
The King saw the blood dripping off his shiny armor and the proud smile on his llama face, and knew. The llama kneeled before him as he approached, but he told him to straighten up, and then embraced the strong, metal-clad shoulders in a manly, kingly fashion.
"I am forever grateful," he stuttered out through the squeezed throat. "Sir Llamalot."