Previously on Personification-Ridden Faux 16th Century Writing Parodies, our intrepid hero, the younge gentle-mann of leisure, set out on his quest to find and vanquish the dreaded ay-gent, accompanied by his four totally not imaginary friends, Hope, Determination, Despair and Desire! But will he heed the warnings of that infamous travelling wisdom-teller, Old Mann Lyfe? Read on!
“Wherefore can we possibly fynde this ay-gent,” he was heard to mule.
“I know of an certain knowledgeable fellow,” said the young gentle-mann. “A keeper of many spyders who resides nearby. By consulting his webbs, we may assuredly find the lair of the ay-gent.”
So they journeyed on, unto the noisome abode of the Webb Keeper.
“The place you seek lies fare unto the north,” he said, having consulted the weave of his sorcerous spyders. “A verie mountainous place. They call it Ay-Gent Kuerie. Many such ay-gents may be found there. Yet you will required great strength to tame even one.”
The gentle-mann and his band bade thanks unto the Webb Keeper, resisting his urging to abide with him longer and regard the many amusing visions of young catlings and strange bloggposts his webbs were able to conjour up. They turned north, towards the distant, mist-shrouded peaks of Ay-Gent Kuerie.
Twas a long a wearisome journey, and for an time, sheltered from the rain in a copse of trees aside the pathway, the little band halted. As they ate their meagre rations, an old, stooped figure in rain-sodden garbe joined them.
“You are Old Mann Lyfe,” Despaire said instantly, for he recognised the wizened figure, as did the gentle-mann’s other three companiones.
“We are at rest,” the gentle-mann said. “And we is welcome to join us for a while.”
“Thank you, kind sire,” said Old Mann Lyfe, sitting beside the young master and setting aside his crooked walking-stave. “It seems this rain may keep up an little while yett. Shall we speak, you and I, to more assuredly pass the time? Wherefore do you venture?”
And so the young gentle-mann told Old Mann Lyfe of their quest, to gain entry into the Castle and learn the fair maiden’s name, firstly by confronting an ay-gent.
“Tis an noble quest,” Old Mann Lyfe conceded, nodding slowly. “But mayhaps you should hear what I have to say afore you journey further.”
And so Old Mann Lyfe told the young gentle-mann of many and divers things. He told him of jobes and worthy employment, of earning and of paying taxes unto the king and his court. He told him of family life, of the need for a spouse and the strains and joys of raising younglings. He told him many bawdy tales of comradeship with close friends. He told him of duties to parents, and to all manner of familial relations. He told him of a thousand and one things he had yet to achieve.
“Think you notte,” he said, “that there be many more pressing matters for you to attend to afore you seek out this ay-gent? Is this quest you embark upon truly what you seek? You know your chances of success be so little they can scarce be said to even exist? There is much else to be done. Yet I have spoken overlong – look, the rain hath lifted.”
And upon those words Old Mann Lyfe took himself off on his way, saying only that they would surely meet againe.
“What he spoke was true,” Despair intoned, for the others had been listening in.
“I know Old Mann Lyfe,” Determination snapped back. “He has oft impeded me. He is notte to be trusted. Do not heed his words.”
“We may yet achieve the many things he speaketh of,” Hope said, “and still maintain this quest.”
The young gentle-mann sat and frowned and spake little, for Old Man Lyfe’s words weighed heavily ‘pon him. There was indeed much to be done, much that would not be helped by this foolishe and vain quest.
“Have we not come this far,” Desire then said, laying a light hand on his shoulder and whispering in his ear. “Be not the completion of our quest not what your heart yearns for, young master?”
The gentle-mann grimaced, yet nodded. Desire, moreso than any of the other companiones, most often spoke for his heart. He rose, and drew his cloak tight about him.
“We carry on,” he said, pointing through the trees towards the mountain-peakes. “There is no more time for dalliance. The ay-gent awaits.”