Author's Note:

Here's the first chapter of my completely re-written story (originally my first piece of Shrek fan fiction)

Enjoy!

Chapter I

Birds sung out their cheerful melodies to the bright blue skies. Similarly there were raucous grunts and hoots a few miles north of these beautiful birds' home. These woots and hollers were of the male kind, coming from the inner field of a jousting stadium at Worcestershire Academy. Obviously there was another typical mindless jousting practise at the stadium, intended to stimulate the jousting team's need for action and to inflict pain on others inferior to them.

Today's lucky victim… just so happened to be one of the few common victims to the jousting team's practises. He was Arthur Pendragon, Artie to all, Bucket Boy and other similar insults –like Worm, Loser and Reject- to the jousting team.

The late fall weather gave the early afternoon breeze a crisp and chilling bite to it; but even in the cool weather Artie was still sweating. The bucket helm that was perched on his head -giving him the undignified nickname of Bucket Boy- was unnecessarily warm.

Artie nodded his head to try and peer through the cut out eyeholes fixed in the bucket. He straightened his posture as much as he could under the weight of an unbalanced jousting lance and tried to stay on the uncomfortable wooden steed he had been provided.

A chestnut-brown stallion neighed impatiently across the field as its rider dramatically pulled himself onto the saddle. This rider being Lancelot Du Lac, legendary captain of the Worcestershire jousting team, who always got first dibs when it came to target practise… especially with Artie.

Why? You ask.

Why does Lancelot have first dibs? Well for start offs: he's the team captain, which puts him in a position of superiority; and anyone trying to get first dibs will have to face the fact that they AREN'T team captain, so they should just suck it up. Sometimes Lancelot would allow other members of his jousting team to go before him, but never if the particular target was Artie.

And why especially for Artie? Well, basically Lancelot wanted Artie to know where his place was… and that was at the very bottom of the social food chain. At the WAY, WAY bottom… even the Dungeons and Dragons geeks were at least a link above him. As an addition to Lance's place placing, the jousting team's captain was specifically touchy when Artie tried to woo his girlfriend, Guineviere of Galorus.

Not it's not that Artie didn't know that Lance and Guin were an item; no… he knew fully well of that meticulous subject. However, in his mind, Artie wanted the lovely Guineviere to be his own. Not only because she was the most popular girl in all of Worcestershire Academy –and among the most gorgeous-, but also because he believed that she deserved better than a jerk like Lancelot… and Artie knew he was better at not being a jerk like Lancelot by miles.

Unfortunately for Arthur Pendragon, Guineviere's interests did not lie amongst the good-hearted 'totally ew-eths' of the academy but sought only the popular, good-looking jerks.

Back among the hooting and hollering jocks and their leader who was fully mounted on his chestnut-brown stallion, Artie was developing a very irritating itch behind his right ear.

If only Lancelot could just hurry up and then he could relieve his itch. If Lance could just hit the damned target that was painted onto the chest of his armour -that is; the cushiony padding intended to go under the chain mail to avoid discomfort and provided not additional protection than his academy's red uniform tunic did- then he could be on his way; maybe…

There were a few loud squealing cheers from the stands for Lancelot. Most of them were from Guineviere's three mindless friends: Brittany of Brittany, Viviane of Avalon and her twin sister Niniane of Avalon. The four combined created the popular school group: 'The Fair Maidens of Worcestershire'. They were sometimes nicknamed; 'The Ladies of the Lake' though they obviously weren't mythological entities from the enchanted lake situated atop High High Peak in the High High Mountains, north of the Town of Worcestershire.

Three of the four maidens all waved and cheered for Lancelot, though this was only a regular target practise and nothing special.

Artie's theory was that the Fair Maidens were only there by Lancelot's command; so the jousting captain could keep his target's popularity at a record low and rub in the fact how unpopular he was.

Guineviere of Galorus however, could see plainly that this was not a special or significantly different event, and she was preoccupying herself with the latest copy of Medieval Vogue and chewing on a new piece of bubble gum.

The itch on Artie's right ear began to grow intensely; up to the point where Artie was ready to yank off the cursed bucket helm and scratch away the irritation. He didn't… But only because he knew from previous experience that taking off the bucket helm resulted in an instant pummelling from the entire jousting team; mostly because they thought he was trying to get away.

Artie's pale green eyes began to water slightly from the irritation. God… if only Lance would just hurry up and knock him off of this stupid makeshift horse. The human target tried to itch his ear with his right shoulder, which only caused the eyeholes on the helmet to spin around to the wrong side. Then Artie was back to the dilemma of trying to get the eyeholes back into place.

It was at this time, while Artie was unable to see, when Lancelot commanded his steed forwards. The gorgeous chestnut-brown steed neighed dramatically, rearing up on its hind hooves from a moment before charging at full speed towards the human target.

Artie heard the horse's neigh and felt the hooves pounding against the grass-bared stadium. He weakly held up the unbalanced lance in the general direction where he could sense Lancelot's approach.

The human target wasn't too far off; he had only just missed hitting Lancelot's armoured leg by at most a foot. Lancelot Du Lac, however, had hit Artie's chest target right in the bull's-eye. The frail teenager was launched off of his wooden steed through the slightly chilly afternoon air.

Artie landed back first on an unwelcoming patch of worn-out dirt with a loud thump. He weakly lifted up his arms as the unbalanced lance was doomed to come down onto him. Rather that the deafening clank of the lance missing his prepared arms and hitting him on the bucket helm he had tuned into, Artie managed to miss hearing two pairs of footsteps rushing into the stadium.

Now, obviously unbalanced lances don't have that long of an airtime –no matter how high Artie had been launched across the field-, so Artie felt that it was safe to pull off his helmet.

"Are you alright?" Two voices asked simultaneously.

Artie opened his pale green eyes. The fallen teen saw a tall boy with honey-blonde hair and electric-blue eyes standing with the unbalanced lance in his hands and girl about his height knelt beside him with a concerned look on her freckled face and wide hazel-brown eyes.

Author's Note:

See… I think it's a much more interesting introductory chapter.

But what do you readers think?

MG#6