Reading the Dice: Fantasy Edition

Story 5: The Tale of Kingston Thurstad

Dice roll: old lady, Red Riding Hood, prisoner, Olympus, well, cart, chest, Trojan horse, quill & ink

Once upon a time, a young lady was visiting her grandmother.

"Grandmother," the young lady said, "tell me a story of your youth."

"This is another one of your homework assignments, isn't it?" the old woman asked.

"No, not at all," the young lady replied, shaking her head vehemently, displacing the hood of her cloak and pulling her hair free of its coiling braids. "I had so much fun listening to your last story, I just want to hear more!"

The old woman looked at the young lady suspiciously, then asked, "Then why are you hiding a pen and ink in your pocket?"

The young lady guiltily pulled the jar of ink and quill pen from the pocket of her cloak. "I brought them so I could write down your story. Not for my class this time!" she added quickly. "Just to ensure I remember it, for telling my kids one day."

The old woman sighed, "Oh, very well. I suppose it doesn't matter who hears these old tales of mine. They're the past. Who even bothers to think of these things anymore?" The old woman sighed again and mumbled incoherently to herself, then looked at the young lady. "What story did you hear last time, again?"

"About how you and your friends re-enacted the Trojan War! You even built a small version of the Trojan horse!" The young lady smiled. "My classmates all loved that story, by the way. Especially the part when your friends playing the Trojans decided to change the ending and burned the horse outside the city!"

"Ah, yes. The foolishness of youth," the old woman sighed. "My friends playing the Greeks nearly died, you know. We all got too caught up in the story and forgot our friends were inside the horse!"

The young woman pulled out a blank scroll and unrolled it, then dipped the quill into the ink. "What story are you telling me today, Grandmother?"

"The tale of Kingston Thurstad," the old woman replied.

"My grandfather?" the young lady asked.

"No, not Kingston Thurstad the Third," the old woman corrected. "Kingston Thurstad the First. Your great-great-grandfather. The story went something like this: Kingston Thurstad was a bit of a rogue. He claimed he could steal anything from anyone. He'd stolen a quill off a porcupine's back, the cornerstone from the Apollo temple, the scepter out of the hands of the statue of Ra down in Egypt... He'd stolen the jewels out of a lady's ring, while she was wearing it, and made off with the royal cloak, taken right from the back of the king as he rode by on his horse...

"One day, his friend dared him to steal the treasure chest hidden in the treasury of Zeus's hall on Mount Olympus."

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"Steal from Zeus himself?" Kingston echoed.

His friend laughed with delight. "Yes! If you truly want to be known as the greatest of thieves, you need to steal from the King of the Gods himself!"

"And what shall I gain for completing this dare?" Kingston asked.

"Whatever's in the treasure chest!" his friend replied glibly.

"Oh, no, if this is a dare, you must have something in this, too. What will you give me when I succeed?"

"I shall give you back the divining bowl you stole from the seer at Delphi that I stole from you." His friend crossed his arms and smirked. "You'll need it, if you're to avoid the wrath of Zeus for the rest of your life!"