The Legend of the Donkey Knight

Stories have always played a large part in our family. From picture books to chapter books to comic books to the greatest story of all. We have read stories with our children their entire lives. The stories have changed as they have grown and our children have increased, but reading stories has stayed the same. Today, we want to share with you one of our family's favorite stories, written by Jacob. You can read more of the story here.

The Winter Visitor

There once was a family of farmers. They lived in a comfy house, not too big and not too small. Just the right size for their family, all 20 of them.  They lived in a peaceful countryside with their animals and crops. In the spring they planted, in the fall they harvested, in the summer they labored, and in the winter they stayed indoors.

It was quite a regular life, of an ordinary family. Nothing strange ever happened. Nothing unusual ever occurred. That was until they first met the Donkey Knight. It was noon-time mid-winter when a lone rider approached the farm gate. The family didn’t often have visitors, especially in the winter. This rider caused much excitement among the family. The sun was high in the sky, but it only gave the appearance of warmth. Snow was on the ground and the wind blew bitterly with cold. The family watched from their windows, covered in layers of clothes and blankets.

The lone rider stopped close by the farm gate. Lumpy peered out the window wondering what he was doing. It was too cold to be outside that long. Would the lone rider continue on his journey or would he turn at the gate? Lumpy hoped for the latter. A visitor would bring much-needed excitement during this long cold winter.  

   “Who is this strange Visitor?” muttered Vlad, a young farmer with night-black hair. Vlad was smaller than Lumpy, so he pushed his way through to see. His eyes peered out to see the stopped figure as still as a painting was the rider and his mount. 

   “Why stop out in the cold?”, asked Bana, one of Lumpy'sisters, a short but sturdy
farmer with shoulder-length brown hair.  As they watched the stopped figure, the rider suddenly fell off his steed and the mount itself collapsed. 

    “We better go get them, Whoever that rider is, it wouldn’t be right to leave them in the cold”, said Gomer, one of the older farmers. 

   Bundling themselves with coats, furs, hats, and scarves, the farmers went out to collect the stranger and their mount. With the wind blowing sharply, the farmers had to lean forward as they walked toward the stranger. 

   This winter was colder than any the younger farmers have remembered. Winter was often spent playing in the barn but not this year. This year was spent huddled near the fire telling stories and wishing for spring.  The cold wind whipped at their faces, as their feet dragged slowly through the snow. Each step they took was an effort. 

“S-s-s-someone remind me why we are out here again?” chattered Vlad. 

   Stopping his pace, Gober replied, “Because, Vlad, we show hospitality.”

“As you say, Gober,” responded Vlad in a mocking tone. 

The older farmer, Gober, resumed his slow walk towards the stranger. 

 The farmer’s family prided themselves on the welcoming of strangers. Hospitality was a virtue in their land. When visitors came or went it was right to make an occasion of it. Celebrations were always the biggest when new friends were made.  The farmers had a wise saying passed down through the generations “We give hospitality to strangers because we have been strangers too.”

   As the farmers approached the gate at the end of the drive, they saw the toppled body of a horse and a soldier. The soldier had a sword strung across his back, a shield, and a helmet, but no other armor. The horse was thin and starved. 

“No hope for the horse.”, said Gober “Get the rider on your back, Lumpy.” 

Lumpy, one of the younger farmers, was the biggest of his siblings. He had been named Lumpy while still in his mother’s womb because of the great lump he caused her tummy. Whenever the farmers needed something heavy carried Lumpy was the farmer for the job. 

   Lumpy picked up the body and began walking back towards the farmhouse. The little crowd of farmers gathered the saddle from the horse, a bundle of firewood from the horse's back, and trudged back inside.
 “Set him by the fire,” said Lumpy’s mother. He gently laid the Visitor on an animal skin rug near the fire. 

“Looks near dead,” said Zylly, a young farmer with black hair. 

“Shush your eating hole!” said Lumpy.

“What can we do to help?” asked Zerysh who was holding a baby in her arms. 

 “Eating is just what this Visitor will need to do if he wakes,” said Lumpy’s mother. 

   She began to give orders “Zylly, help me get water boiling. Vlad, keep that fire by the Visitor hot. Zerysh, go get the extra fur blankets from the trunk in the loft, Lumpy, go find Bana and tell her to come help with dinner”. Lumpy smiled and thought
Ha, I don’t have to carry something this time.