Timorous

Timothy McGee, a commoner, never failed to be polite to his neighbors. He kept his shop up well and wrote some on the side. He hoped to someday write a book that was read kingdom wide.

Before his literary career could take off, though, the kingdom fell under hard times. Almost no one could afford to feed themselves, let alone have enough to give to others like they used to. The village he lived in still tried to make the best of it, but with no end in sight they decided a messenger must be sent to the King.

Before Tim knew what had happened, he’d been selected by the rest of the village to be the one to make the trip to the King and plead for help for their village. Gathering his supplies, what meager ones he had at least, timorous Tim struggled to make it to the castle.

He’d heard horror stories of King Leroy Jethro Gibbs and quivered in fear the closer he got to the King’s castle and the King’s court where he would have to make his petition. He didn’t know why he was chosen. He wasn’t well spoken. He was just a simple book keep.

Still he couldn’t back out. The village did need help badly. Of course, as he journeyed, he realized the whole kingdom needed help not just his village. Filled with even more fear that they would be denied, as how could the King choose to help only one lowly village, Tim stopped and stared at the gates that led into the castle.

Finally gathering his courage, he entered the castle only to find it empty. Where were the guards? Where were the people? Is this the reason the kingdom was struggling because there was no one to lead it anymore?

He searched high and low, but could not find a single soul in that castle. Now, he truly despaired. What had happened to their King? Even if he was as miserable and tyrannical as everyone claimed, a king was better than none.

It would make a good story if he set himself up as King and tried to fix whatever had gone wrong with the Kingdom, but he had not the training to actually do so. Instead, he sat on one of the steps leading up to the second level of the castle and started writing. He wrote of what he believed someone with more courage, more knowledge, and more skills than he, would do in this situation.

While he wrote, a drunk man stumbled into the castle. McGee set his writing down and helped the foul mouthed man to a bed to sleep it off.

In the morning, he found his manuscript gone. Panicking, he searched the castle for it. Finally, he found it in the hands of the drunk from last night who was carefully reading through it.

“You would make a much better ruler than I.” The drunk murmured softly, barely heard by McGee.