Week 11, Storytelling: Foolish George

There once was a boy named George that lived on a farm with his mother and father. He was an only child and his father was a drunk. Some days his father would wander around in the woods behind the farm and George would follow him to make sure that he did not hurt himself. One day his father broke his ankle in a hole but he wasn’t strong enough to support him so he could walk back to the house. His father told him to run back to the farm and get a hand saw. When he came back, his father pointed to a thick limb and had him cut it down. There was a V-shape at the top that worked perfectly as a crutch. After some extra pruning, his father and George made their way back to the house. 

Years later, George was just an old homeless man living under a bridge in London. Everyday he would go beg on the streets for money, food, or whatever anyone was willing to give. The only possession he had was the walking stick that his father had used when he was a boy and had kept for the rest of his life. George always took the stick with him no matter where he went because it was his only possession. 

One day while George was on the corner begging, a man in a suit was walking by and stopped in front of him

“Where did you get that stick?”, the man asked excitedly.

“I’ve had this since I was a boy, I didn’t steal it sir!”, George answered defensively.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to offend you”, the man started, “but was only interested in where you cut your stick from.”

George thought about whether or not to answer the man and he figured what harm could come from telling him. “I cut it for my father when I was a child at our old homestead, but it has long been sold and tore down.”

“That is okay. Can you remember how to get to the property and the tree?” the man asked, still visibly excited.

“Yes, I can. Why do you want to know?”

“Because I, dear sir, am going to make both of us very rich!”

The man immediately grabbed George by the arm and began to drag him down the street with him. As they walked, George learned that the man’s name was Gwydion, an old and powerful sorcerer and that had been looking for the tree for a very long time. George did not believe him at first since he looked like a man in his 30’s and was wearing a business suit. Gwydion took George to the passenger side of a very expensive car and helped him inside. They took off immediately with George giving directions.

When they arrived at the property, Gwydion went to the trunk and pulled out two shovels. He carried them and followed George as he instructed George to lead him to the tree. When they arrived, Gwydion asked if George would help him dig. George figured what did he have to lose.

They soon came to a flat rock and Gwydion seemed to be about to bust out of his skin.

“What has got you so excited, boy?” asked George.

“Like I said, old man, I have been searching for this tree for a very long time, longer than you have been alive. Will you come with me?” Gwydion asked as he pulled back the rock and exposed a staircase.

When George peered into the hole, he was scared. More scared than he had ever been, but Gwydion had assured him that it was perfectly safe and that he would soon have more money than he knew what to do with. George had never had money and had even less the older he got. He was starting to get excited himself and soon he was about to bust out of his skin with excitement also.

As they descended the stairs, the first thing they saw was a bell. George leaned over, getting close since it was dark.

“DO NOT touch that if you know what is good for you.” Gwydion half yelled. “Just whatever you do, do not. Touch. That. Bell.”

As they ventured further into the cave, they came to an open cavern. The floor was covered in rows and rows of sleeping warriors, their hands folded over their chests. In the middle of the room was a round table, all of the men there were bent over the table and sleeping themselves. But at the head of the table was a man who seemed to defy description. He was tall, even sitting down, you could tell that. He had a very handsome face and was adorned in jewelry and a crown.

“That, is King Arthur.” Gwydion pointed and whispered to George.

“THE King Arthur?” George asked. He could not believe what he was seeing. This was a myth that mothers and fathers told their boys when they were little, not a real living man.

“They are asleep, and I assure you they are real, but they are not mortal.” Gwydion said. 
“They have been placed here by Arthur himself to come back when they are needed most. The bell is what will wake them, so no matter what, again, do NOT touch the bell on the way out.”

At that moment George noticed the big pile of gold at the back of the cavern. They both grabbed their fill and were headed out when George decided he wanted to meet King Arthur and wanted to see what it would look like if all of those warriors stood up at once. As they were leaving, he reached over and rang the bell as loud as he could. 

Gwydion turned around and yelled “FOOL! You have doomed yourself now.”

At that moment George turned back to face the cavern and found himself face to face with the great King. George didn’t have a moment to get a word out. He was grabbed by the throat and dragged back to the cavern. King Arthur laid him down next to a warrior and touched him on the head. George fell into a deep sleep along with the other warriors only to be awoken when they were needed most.

(King Arthur, Pyle. Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Authors Notes: This story is based on the story of Arthur in the Cave in the Welsch (Thomas) Unit. I originally wrote this story during the second week of class. I, obviously, had not figured out how exactly everything worked, so I wrote a story based on my extra reading of that week, which was Ovid's Metamorphosis I. My reading this week was the first Celtic Fairy Tales.