Beru, Owen, Thomas and John sat in a circle and shared the food and water the two soldiers had brought with them. John gestured vaugley in a northerly direction.
"Our people are camped about five miles north of here.", he said between mouthfuls of bread and cheese. "We've made pretty good time, so if we keep up this pace I estimate..."
"Urgh"
The cry came from Thomas who had started to wipe something off his face. John scowled.
"What?"
"Urgh! When you said 'estimate', you spat bread and cheese everywhere. Look at this! Bits everywhere! A load of nasty, cheesy, bready bits hanging from my beard! Eurgh! I feel sick!"
John scowled.
"Are you finished? I'm trying to explain something really rather important to these folks."
"Oh yes. Go ahead. I don't mind and I'm sure these guys don't either. They probably enjoy being showered in cheese and bread..."
John chose to completely disregard Thomas.
"So, as I was saying, if we continue heading north..."
"...Vomit forth strachy, cheesy gobules of phlem..."
"North...if we go north at a steady pace we'll soon reach..."
"...and sit on your backside expecting them to..."
John got to his feet and roared.
"SHUT UP YOU BLITHERING IDIOT!"
This time Beru and Owen joined Thomas in wiping down their faces. John blushed.
"Look. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. The pressure and the heat are just getting to me, that's all. How about we draw a line under this and start again. Thomas?"
He held out his hand. Thomas smiled and shook it.
"Happy to do so. In fact, we've all been a bit tense, so how about I tell a joke to cheer everyone up?"
Owen nodded.
"An excellent idea. Do tell."
Thomas knelt down and grinned.
"Ok, this is one of my favourite jokes and although it's a bit of a longy, you'll find yourself retelling this one again and again
(1)
! Trust me it's well worth the wait! Are you ready?"
Everyone nodded.
"Ok. There's a black knight on a black horse and he's riding through the forest and...yes?"
Beru had raised her hand.
"Does this end in his execution?"
Thomas, thrown by this sudden interuption, stared at Beru increduously.
"Wha...?" he offered.
"This joke of yours. At the end is the man you are talking about executed?"
Thomas, now sufficently composed to realise his ears hadn't misled him the first time, shook his head.
"No. No the joke - the funny, humourous joke designed to cheer us up - oddly enough doesn't end in some man's execution."
Beru folded her arms and growled.
"Well, I think your so-called joke should! I'm not sure why you think that humour at the expense of honest farmers is appropriate at this point in time! Not after what we've been through!"
Thomas blinked. This wasn't going like he had planned
(2).
"Er...why do you require the joke to end in his death?"
Beru rolled her eyes like she was talking to a stupid child.
"Not his death - his EXECUTION. You are aware of the difference, hmm? EVERYONE dies - only those who have committed a crime and who are brought before the legal system can be executed."
"When did I say he was a criminal? He hasn't committed a crime!"
Beru brightened.
"Ah - so he's a stable boy? Or a farm hand?"
Thomas cast his eyes around frantically, desperatly imploring the others to help him. Owen shook his head in the manner of a man who had witnessed conversations like this many times before, while John stared uncomprehendingly at Beru. Thomas turned back to her and smiled - baring his teeth like a demented Cheshire Cat.
"No. No. He's neither of those things. Like I said..."
"If he is, as you say, neither of those things the state would be remiss if they did not step in, apprehend, try and execute him."
"Why?" Thomas half-screamed.
"He is a horse thief, and the punishment for horse theft is death!"
(3)
"I never said that!"
"You didn't have to. I am aware of the law - aren't I Owen? - which states when you steal another's horse..."
"No - I mean I never said he was a horse thief!"
."
"You didn't have to - you implied that he was!"
"What? Where? When?"
"What would a slave or a native be doing with a horse if he had not stolen the animal, hmm?"
"I NEVER said he was a slave or a native!"
"Yes you did - you said he was black!"
Several seconds of brain melting contemplation passed as the others attempted to process this statement and keep up with wherever it was that Beru's unstoppable train of thought was steaming towards. Thomas was the one to break the silence with a rather timid cough.
"I said he was a black KNIGHT."
Beru snorted.
"Don't be ridiculous - I've never heard of such a thing! You only get knights in feudal, European societies. The tribes around here have no such social structure. They're savages - they wouldn't understand such a concept."
"No - I mean the colour of his armour. He was wearing black ARMOUR, therefore he was known as the black knight."
"Ah! You should have explained, rather than spending all that time confusing me!"
"I kind of thought it would be obvious."
"Not to me it wasn't."
Thomas sighed, but before he could speak John stood up.
"Okaaaaaay. Time's getting on people - we should move. Thomas can tell his joke later. Get your things, we're heading out in two minutes."
~~~
1. People often write stories as a form of escapism. It is often said that the dashing heroes and heroines that litter the anals of literary history all have a little bit of their creator in them. The joke Thomas is going to tell here is one of this author's favourite jokes. The fact that everyone is sitting around nodding enthusiastically, happily awaiting the telling of the joke and the punchline is the escapist part. Note that none of these characters are groaning and saying 'I've heard this one before?' or 'This better be better than you're last one?'
2. Telling a joke to a child, an old person or a drunk can often provide an experience similar to this one.
3. Ludicrous as this sounds, in many countries this was the case until quite recently.