Another throwback post, and I’m still working my way through the 2015 archive. It’s much better in there than I recall it being, and there have been a few contenders for these throwback posts that perhaps deserve a shot at redemption in 2026.

Some of them I don’t even remember writing, but I’m pretty sure it was me who wrote them. In any case, I’m taking credit for them because they’re on my blog.

This one I do remember. Short stories, or ‘flash fiction’ as the cool kids like to call it, weren’t something I planned to do when I started the blog, but I soon succumbed to various writing challenges, and so a few stories have appeared over the years.

This one, though, surprised even me. At the start of the story, I had no idea what the twist was going to be, so when I wrote it, I was as surprised as anyone. I actually laughed out loud as I wrote it, and I’m never normally such a big fan of my own creations.

So I thought it was only fair to let Bromfell ride again today.

---

All Hail King Bromfell

Originally posted on July 16th 2015

Bromfell saw the village in the distance. It was a welcome sight. He had ridden for many hours and both he and his beloved horse, Alcris, were tired.

He patted the stallion’s neck.

“Not far now old friend,” he said, “soon we shall find respite.”

The smell of freshly harvested hops served as an extra impetus, for he yearned to quench his thirst, and the local ale had a fine reputation.

He tugged the reins and Alcris picked up the pace. Before long they were entering the outskirts of the village.

A young man was walking by the road. Bromfell hailed him.

“Hello lad,” he said warmly, “is there an inn nearby, where I and my companion may quench our thirst?”

The youth gave Bromfell a startled look.

“Listen mate I don’t want any trouble,” he said.

Bromfell was perplexed.

“I mean you no trouble boy,” he replied, “I merely require a brief repose and some refreshment before I continue my journey. I have travelled for many days.”

“Look there’s a Premier Inn in the centre if that’s what you’re after,” said the youth, “or I think there’s a Travelodge on the other side of town. Near the Texaco Garage.”

“These sound like fine establishments,” agreed Bromfell, “but do either have stables for Alcris?”

“What’s an Alcris?” asked the youth.

“Why Alcris is my trusty steed!” boasted Bromfell, “A finer beast you never laid eyes on.”

The youth paused. Should he tell the old man that Alcris seemed to be nothing more than a broken mop-handle?

Probably better to humour the lunatic.

“I’m sure you’ll find all you need for Alcris at the Premier Inn,” he said, “it’s just down the road.”

Bromfell beamed at the young man.

“I thank you for your kindness lad,” he said, “you shall be richly rewarded, when I return to my homeland. For little did you know, that it is King Bromfell of Langdor himself that you have aided this night.”

The youth smiled – the old man was harmless enough and now he had quite a story for the staff room tomorrow.

“I’m truly honoured your majesty,” he said, “I hope you have a lovely stay in Morton.”

“I shall indeed,” declared Bromfell as he charged into the centre of the village, Alcris the mop-handle between his legs.

Written in response to the Literary Lion Prompt – King