Sir Gilroy the Golden

A Story by H.L. Pauff

“It’s mine! I pulled it out of the water!”

“Nuh-uh! I carried it! It’s my purty statue!”

Lying on the pile of gold, jewels and gems, Sir Gilroy wanted nothing more than to stretch his legs. There were few times he hated the armor, but this was one of them.

“No it’s not!”

“Yeah-huh it is!”

Unarmed and too scared to move, he waited for the trolls to leave so he could flee the cave, but days had passed and it was starting to seem like they would never stop arguing.

“Make sure you polish it until you can see your reflection. Sir Gilroy the Golden has a reputation to uphold,” he had told his squire the morning before he left the city. Trotting through the gates and basking in the admiration of the peasant folk was the last thing he remembered before waking up in the cave.

“My tummy is rumbling.”

“Mine too. Let’s smash a deer and eat it!”

Through his visor, Sir Gilroy saw the two trolls lumber towards the mouth of the cave. He smiled and felt a tickle on his face. A tiny spider had settled on the corner of his mouth. He wrinkled his face and blew from the corner of his mouth trying to nudge it away. Instead, it scurried up his nostril.

“We could roast the deer with garlic or �" ”

Sir Gilroy’s violent sneeze forced his visor open revealing his pink, fleshy face. He froze in terror, hoping and praying they couldn’t hear or see him.

“Did the statue sneeze?”

“That’s no statue, dummy. That’s a human!”

When he finally stumbled out of the cave with broken bones and the golden glitter of his armor hidden beneath a layer of blood, Sir Gilroy decided it was time for a name change. Sir Gilroy the Troll Killer didn’t sound quite as magical, but he would get used to it.