Disclaimer: All the characters (er, except one...or two) belong to J.K. Rowling.
Author notes: Based on the Old Irish Legend about the Jack O' Lantern
Characters: Sir Nick
The Old Legends
"Good sir," Nick began, looking at the drink in his goblet. "Where did you say it was that you harkened from?"
"Oh, I didn't say," the blond man replied cheerfully. Nick took the time to look at his drinking companion thoughtfully. He was adorned in a very strange garb, a motley assortment made of purple stripes and an odd, round hat. His boots were even more distracting. They were cleaved right near the toes.
Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington had been surprised when the man approached him to share a glass of mead. He usually didn't care for company, not with his noble deeds and doings. For years, Nick had stolen for the well-to-do for the ne'er-do-wells. His lifestyle, though a grand calling, did not earn him many friends. He had been honored and knighted before the hand of tyranny, though gilded, grew too loathsome for him to bear.
In turn, he had become both a villain and a hero. And he had indeed used a little magic on the side in his exploits, to assist his success rate but Nick found it was for a good cause.
"Ye boots…do they serve an orthopedic function?"
"Not really. I just fancy the look. There isn't much walking where I come from."
Ah, curiouser and curiouser. It was surely a merry game. "Friend, let me hazard a guess and tell me if I'm getting close to your place of origin."
"Shall we make a bargain? A bit of a boon to pass the hour?"
Nick rubbed his chin, considering the wisdom of his act. "You have nothing left to lose, you know," his companion added in a dubious intonation.
Feeling defiant, Sir Nick began his guesses. "Ye garments are rather colorful, good sir. Do you come from the west or the east? Surely not from the north for it is too cold a climate."
"My land is in equal distance from all points of the compass. I could throw a stone to any land of my choosing."
Nick was genuinely baffled. "And the climate? Hot, is it?"
"You'll get used to it."
"It is not I who has to live there."
The man tilted his head and suddenly Nick had a very bad feeling indeed. "This meeting was not one of chance."
The man nodded, smiling a ghastly smile. "Oh," Nick uttered and looked at the odd boots again. "Oh."
"That's right, Nick. I am exactly who you believe me to be. Let's step outside."
Nick looked around the tavern in a sort of wonderment and thought about making a mad dash to freedom. However, he was Sir Nick, and he would not run even from the arch fiend himself.
"Indeed. This is no place to trounce a man. There are ladies present."
Nick followed the fiend outside, taking his bag of gold coins with him. His foe led him down the path a little ways then turned to him.
"I think I deserve an explanation," Nick said, feeling slightly cheated.
"Well, you are a thief. Thieves belong to me."
"What if it's justified theft?"
"Justified?" The fiend let out a cackle. "That's what I like about you, Nick, always with your cause. The road to hell is paved with good intents, you know. And you must keep a bit of the reward for yourself?"
"I certainly do not! I wouldn't be dressed like this if I did," Nick protested. "I borrowed this outfit from the bard Shakespeare's theatre."
"Be that as it may, the verdict still stands."
"Nay, this is a challenge, and I will prove my honor." Nick stood straight-backed, ready to fight, and then something occurred to him. "How do I know you speak the truth? Some ruffian tells me he's a Fiend and I'm supposed to take him at his word. Prove it."
"I don't have to prove anything to a mortal."
"Ah. You lack any form of mettle, coward."
"…I have the time," the Fiend said, through gritted teeth. "Ask of me anything."
Nick thought for a moment then reached his decision.
"I would like…a hat," he finally declared. "With a feather on the brim."
Suddenly a hat appeared in his gloved hand, complete with a plume on top. "And now," his foe began.
"Not so fast. Any proper wizard could conjure this for me. I am not so easily swayed….How about a horse? Nay, a smallish horse in stature."
"You mean a pony?" Those red coal eyes twitched.
"A smallish horse," Nick said, awkwardly. The fiend lifted his hands again but Nick cut him off. "Wait! A horse is within any man's reach. How about…Excalibur itself?"
"You must be joking."
"So you can't do it, bad sir."
"I won't." The Devil stomped his cloven foot angrily.
"Can't."
"Won't!"
"…I see we are at an impasse. Fine. If you can climb that yonder tree, I will gladly go with you into infernal doom."
"Why a tree, Nick?"
"Well, wizards are notoriously bad tree climbers. Everyone knows that."
"…And you will go with me without a fuss."
"I will make nary a peep."
"It is good," the Fiend said and hurried scaled the tree. Nick took his dagger, one from his knighthood, and embedded it into the bark. "Erm." A voice said from above his head.
"It is my most prized good possession, and since you don't much like good, I supposed that it would put you at a bad position. We are on equal footing now, sir. Let us have our duel."
Nick was in a fury, ready to climb the tree to do battle and best his enemy once and for all.
"Wait a moment," the nervous voice said from above, and Nick struck. The round hat fell near his feet. "No need to be hasty!"
"There is every need," Nick cried and made a swipe at the branches. "You cannot stay up there forever. If it be, I will wait you out! Have at thee!"
"Um…Opps! It seems I've made a mistake. You look like the person I'm supposed to get, but you aren't. Heh."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Oh…." Nick lowered his sword. "I still think you're a fool trying to play a jest on me."
"Fine. I don't much care at this point."
"Then…well, terribly sorry about that."
"It's fine, yes, I'll just be going now….the dagger?"
"Oh, right." Nick pulled out the dagger and stepped away. He had never seen a person scurry down a tree so very fast. "May I keep the hat?"
"Yes, keep it, do whatever you wish. Choke on it, I care not!"
Nick raised his sword in warning. The strange man fled and Nick looked after him for a moment. Steam seemed to be rising from his foe's figure as he ran. Nick shrugged. He still had to get the gold to the families in the village nearby. That charlatan had kept him occupied for nearly an hour.
"This is one to tell to the children," Nick said and continued down the path with a bounce in his step, adjusting his new hat in pride.
&&&
Sir Nick lived for seven merry years after his duel, having many adventures and gathering his tales. He was known far and wide for his deeds. Perhaps a little too far and too wide, Nick thought to himself, as he was forced to kneel beside the chopping block.
The bi-spectacled executioner approached him to his left, and Nick felt a little tremor of fear. The little incident with the lady with the bad teeth is what had done him in, he reflected, and he was quite sad about it. He was just trying to help, really. He didn't know how his efforts had gone so wrong.
The executioner touched the ax to his neck, lining up the blade for the fatal strike.
"This may sting a bit."
Nick eyed the blade and frowned.
"I think you need to shar-."
Several thunks later something occurred to him. A blunt ax designed to malign his death.
Very immature.
&&&
"So," Nick said. "I guess this is it."
"No," his old foe said. "I will not have you. You embarrassed me."
"Then where?" Nick said.
"Up," the Fiend replied, and gave Nick an ember to light his way. Along his journey, however, Nick grew afraid and changed his course. With the light, it seemed he could travel just fine along earth. He didn't feel his adventures had ended.
He came across another traveler along the earth, some young lad who was trying to sneak past a dragon in its lair. Nick reminded him that tickling the dragon was not the best option, and together they managed a successful adventure.
The fellow had a red mane of hair and was curious about the state of Nick's neck. Nick related his story in full, and the man, Godric, was riveted.
"Would you do me the great honor of haunting me?" the lad inquired.
"Indeed," Nick said, feeling not so very awkward about the state of his neck. "I will."
&&&
The quote about orthopedic function with shoes is from Can't Hardly Wait.