Chapter 1

  “Flying pigs?”
   
  “That’s right”

  Winkle raised his eyebrows and swayed backwards on his stool.  Maybe it was the ale or maybe it was complete disbelief, but Winkle suddenly felt a bit woozy.  He had spent the latter part of his 19 years listening to tales of magnificent beasts and mighty warriors, but had never imagined there could be a place within the world where Pigs could fly!
  He leaned forward so as to catch the end of the story……
 
  ”….so after we removed the trotters, Axel was fine if not a bit sore, but we all feasted well for the rest of that trip!”

  Laughter erupted from the crowd that had gathered around the story-tellers table, he looked extremely smug and was obviously pleased with the reaction his tale had received.
  Winkle grimaced and downed the last of his tankard, swirling the contents around his mouth to try and capture some taste.  The Landlord, Jonty, claimed he didn’t water the ale down but Winkles taste buds swore otherwise.  He stood up, cast one final envious glance at Mr Big Shot Story Teller and made his way to the tavern door.
  As he left the ‘Cow and Cart’, Winkle considered why so many adventures and tales began in taverns?  He had spent every evening, for the past 3 years, in taverns and inns throughout the city of Sutherland and had come not even remotely close to even the slightest hint of a trip outside of his normal surroundings. 
  This was not for a lack of trying on his behalf.  He had offered his services to every man, woman and child who had even slightly hinted that they may be leaving the city on some grand escapade.  Unfortunately, nobody so far had been willing to take him up on his offer.
  Perhaps, he thought, it was his gangly appearance.  Winkle had not been blessed with the greatest of bodywork in the world.  He stood a proud 6 feet tall, with a skinny body and limbs that made him look, if you took into account his mop of ginger curls, like a matchstick with arms.
  "No", Winkle thought aloud, "its not the way I look, I’m quite a handsome chap!"  Fortunately despite his appearance, Winkle possessed a phenomenal belief in himself and had the confidence of 10 men.
  As he stumbled home (not walked, you can’t spend every night in a tavern and walk), Winkle contemplated his life and what it meant to him, as people do after a few ales.

  Discovered on the doorstep of the servants quarters at Castle Morten, the skinny baby had been taken in, named Winkle (no reason why, his adoptive mother just liked it) and raised by one of the Castle maids, a lovely, if not too bright, woman called Rosie.
  Rosie Spinster, was the daughter of a Lumberjack.  She was a slightly chubby lady with a mop of straggly brown hair and rather large arms inherited from her father.  Rosie had been a cleaner at the castle since being a young girl and was an expert in her field, she found it impossible to tire those arms out.  It was this ethos that she passed down to young Winkle as he grew and helped him to acquire a job at the Castle as a gardener.
  Winkle took to his role with a passion and quickly became one of the most renowned gardeners in the whole Kingdom; he doubted there was a better wielder of gardening implements in the whole realm.  Despite this, he was a solitary person and did not have many friends, preferring to spend his time alone in the alehouses around the city, much to his mother’s dismay.
  Although Winkle lived a cheerful existence, he always dreamed that he was destined for greater things in life.  His only real achievement, was winning the annual ‘Comedy vegetables’ competition at the Sutherland fair.          
  Although he had amassed an unrivalled collection of ‘interestingly shaped’ marrows and cucumbers, Winkle longed to replace these with trophies brought back from glorious wars and death-defying adventures.  Visions of snarling monster heads, hung from his living room wall, thrilled him.
  So far, the most ‘death-defying’ experience of his life had involved 'old man' Jimson, the Castles head gardener.  Jimson was 94 years old and was still the head gardener due to his refusal to retire…..or die. 
  One fine summer’s morning, Jimson had been trimming the Primrose bushes around the castle entrance when he had caught sight of Pamela, a young serving girl, au naturel, obviously running late and getting changed behind said bushes on the way to work.
The sight of his favourite bush subject to the barbaric treatment it was receiving from so much jangling flesh, sent Jimson into a blind panic.
  Had it not been for the quick thinking Winkle passing by, and his artistic use of a potatoe sack and a length of string, old man Jimson may have dropped dead from a heart attack.
  Once all of the commotion had settled down and the Castle doctors had been sent back to their studies (and young Pam had managed to get fully clothed), Jimson had decided it was time to step down, hand over the reins, and had retired to a fancy little cottage within the castle grounds.  He was made very comfortable and was bid a fond farewell as he left with his Long Service, Gold Plated Shears.  Also, at his request, the Kingdom seamstress had crafted him some thick black curtains which he kept drawn at all times, not to block out the light but in his own words “To keep the horrors and visions of the modern world away”.
  Winkles thoughts came to an abrupt halt as he realised he was home and very tired, he had worked hard today.  He slid his key into the lock, mooched (not stumbled, not walked, but mooched) over to his bed and collapsed, fully dressed onto his nice cool cotton sheets. 
  Visions of young serving girls behind bushes, Flying pigs and his favourite gardening tools started to swirl round in his head forming the beginnings of a dream.

  Far off in a different bedroom, in a different land, a scene not too different from Winkles dream was playing itself out......

  Except...

  The 'Young serving girl' was actually a Beautiful young Princess, the 'Bush' was actually an open window in a tall, crumbling tower.  The 'Flying pig' was actually a Fire breathing Dragon, hovering outside that open window, stretching its long scaly head through the opening…..then swiftly and violently retracting it as it became clear that the beautiful Young Princess was not actually carrying 'gardening tools', but was wielding a big, fat, spiked Club.