The Epic Tale of Sir Lovelorn: Part 2 of 2

By Bud Pharo

Since it had been over a year since Sir Lovelorn was last seen, Thomas thought the virtual cosplay event seemed a perfect opportunity to don his chainmail and surcoat and reintroduce his alter ego to a few like-minded people. He paid the event fee and spent the next week anguishing over whether or not to sign in when the time came.

But, when the night of the virtual event finally arrived, he resurrected his alter ego and reluctantly signed in. There were several other knights, all of whom were vying for the attention of a single maiden. The event, even by virtual cosplay standards, was an epic failure, but dressing as Sir Lovelorn again did, unfortunately, open an old wound—one he thought had been healed but hadn’t—his broken heart. Even after a year, he ached for Elaine with a passion he hadn’t felt for anyone before or since.

After analyzing the woeful state of his love life, Thomas came to the straightforward but rather eccentric conclusion that his problem stemmed from being born at least a thousand years too late. It was the simplest explanation for why he felt so unmoored within 21st-century social constructs, thus making him an easy mark for Elaine, the mysterious woman with her dazzling blue eyes and alluring online presence, to steal his heart.

Though he tried to rebound by attending the virtual cosplay event, his heart wasn’t in it. His year-long fruitless search for Elaine left him bereft of passion for anyone or anything that was not her. As a would-be knight, he failed life’s most important quest: finding the one true love for whom he was destined. Consequently, Thomas felt obligated to atone for his inability to live up to the chivalrous code he so wholeheartedly believed in.

Searching for a way to atone, he inquired about the application process at a local monastery. But, like many things since Elaine disappeared, he never followed through. He justified his inaction by telling himself he wasn’t quite ready for that level of atonement, not yet anyway. Sure, dressing in robes, making wine, and chanting seemed cool, but that whole vow of poverty thing did not. Luckily, before he could look into less financially painful methods of self-flagellation, he received a message from the library informing him that they finally received a copy of the book he requested six months ago, The Romance of Tristan and Iseult, the original translation of the anglicized story of Tristan and Isolde. He thought this had to be a good omen indicating that his quest to find her was not over.

Thomas rushed to the library, sat in the reading room, and lovingly embraced every word, every sentence, and every page while reminiscing about how skillfully Elaine enunciated the archaic words, changing cadence, accent, and lilt to bring each character to life.

Though tragedy befell Tristan and Isolde, their story lifted his spirits because it reignited his desire to find Elaine. Thomas felt a certain kinship with Tristan, for he, too, had lost the love of his life and experienced an epic quest gone awry. He closed his eyes and thought about Elaine, savoring the memories of their marvelously intoxicating encounters. Unfortunately, the librarian interrupted his daydream to inform him that the library would close soon.

On his way home from the library, he pulled into a fast-food establishment, and after completing his order at the kiosk, he donned one of their cardboard crowns, upon which he wrote in large, bold letters, “For Tristan and Isolde!”

When his order number was called, he picked up the tray from a delightful young woman wearing a manager’s uniform. Her nametag read “Eliza.” She wore her jet-black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail under her visor. When he went to take the tray, their eyes met. He became momentarily bewitched by her striking blue eyes, which seemed eerily familiar. Had they met somewhere before?

Instead of averting her gaze when she saw the entranced look on his face, she just smiled.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” he said, “but you look like someone I used to know.”

“No worries, I get that a lot,” she said. Interesting, she thought; we typically don’t see many sober adults put on a crown. He’s quirky and kinda cute, and he looks familiar, but the guy I remember didn’t have a beard. “Here’s your tray, sir.”

“Thank you, milady,” Thomas said, bowing slightly as his crown toppled onto the counter.

“Sire, your crown,” she said playfully and handed it to him. She then broke into a huge smile when she saw what he had written across the crown. “Oh, my god, I just love tales of chivalry; they’re so romantic and exciting.” She sighed. “Ah, those were the days.”

Here was his perfect opening: Now, don’t blow it. “Yes, I find the knights and their code of chivalry inspiring,” he said, still wondering where he may have seen her before.

“Yes, me too. But sadly, I fear chivalry is dead,” she said with a weak smile.

“Well, maybe chivalry isn’t quite dead, just on life support,” he quipped.

Her smile brightened, and she gave a small chuckle. “You’re very clever. Hey, I have a break coming up in a couple of minutes. Do you mind if I join you? Maybe we can chat more about how to revive chivalry or whatever,” she said, enthusiastically.

“Not at all, milady, it would be a pleasure.” Thomas found a semi-secluded table near the rear of the restaurant, where he rapidly deleted his account on the new OkNerd dating app.

Five minutes later, the young manager joined him and introduced herself. “Hi, I’m Eliza Bennet,” she said.

“Eliza, like the nickname for Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice?” he asked, trying to contain his enthusiasm.

She arched her eyebrows and inhaled sharply. “Gosh, I never made the connection before; thank you,” she said, feigning surprise.

His face reddened with embarrassment. “Oh, I’m so sorry; you probably hear that all the time. Anyway, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Eliza. I’m Thomas Malory, but most people call me Tom or the red-faced guy with his foot firmly in his mouth; your choice.”

“It’s cool, Tom, I was only having a little fun with you,” she said with a wink. “With the last name Bennet, my mother, a huge Jane Austen fan, couldn’t resist the obvious.”

“But, are you anything like the Eliza Bennet in the book?”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Not currently, but maybe in a previous life,” she said, with a knowing smile. “However, this version of Eliza Bennet is a restaurant manager by day and a starry-eyed romantic by night who, as I said, has a real soft spot for chivalrous romantic tales,” she added with a slight smile, which he knew he’d seen before. But where?

A soft spot for chivalrous romantic tales; could it be? Once again, he felt himself inexplicably drawn to her beautiful eyes, but doubt crept in because he’d only seen those eyes behind a Venetian masquerade mask. But still, not many people were gifted with such a riveting shade of eye color. He searched her face for additional confirmation and found it. Although she wore her hair in a halo braid during their sessions, the raven black ponytail that protruded from under Morgan’s visor and her high cheekbones convinced him that it could be her. However, what surprised him was that the young woman before him, dressed in her workday uniform, was even more enchanting than the exotic maiden he remembered—it had to be her. What are you waiting for? Say something?

“Elaine?” he asked, cautiously.

Her eyes widened with recognition. “Sir Thomas Lovelorn? I thought that was you when I saw the white shield with a large, red broken heart decal on your phone, the same coat of arms that you wore on your surcoat. However, the beard threw me off, but I like it; it makes you look distinguished.”

“Oh my god, it’s really you! Why didn’t you say anything?” He excitedly blurted out.

“I didn’t want to say anything because I thought you might be embarrassed by me, given the nature of our relationship, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up,” she said, remorsefully.

“Embarrassed? Because of you? Never! I’ve dreamt of this day for over a year, and here you are, in real life!” he said as tears of joy began forming in his eyes. “I missed you so much...,” his voice trailed off as emotions overwhelmed him.

“Oh, Thomas, this is something I’ve wanted to do for a very, very long time,” she said, reaching across the table and taking his hands in hers. She reveled in the warm tactile sensation of their intertwined hands as the heartache she carried for walking away from their relationship began to ebb. “The honesty and sincerity of our heartfelt discussions made me realize what I was truly missing in my life. So, I decided to quit Only Damsels to go on a real-life romantic quest of my own and try to find someone like you.” She squeezed his hands tighter, tears welling in her eyes.

His voice cracked as he tried to find his words. “But, but... I gave you time like you wanted,” he stammered, “but when I signed back in, you were gone. I thought what we had was the beginning of something real.”

“It was real, Tom, and I’m here now,” she said, reaching up and lightly touching his cheek, now wet with tears.

“I know; knights are not supposed to cry,” he said quietly sniffling.

“Our feelings are what makes us human,” she said in a soothing voice as she stroked his hand. “I wanted to reach out to you so many times, but I was afraid that you’d reject me, given how we met and how I left things. But, no matter what happens from here on out, there is something I need you to know, a feeling I’ve been holding on to for a long time,” she said, fighting back tears of her own. She steeled her nerves and continued, “Okay, here goes: Thomas, after I left, I realized that you, not Sir Lovelorn, were my true knight in shining armor!”

“I am?” he asked as tears raced around his ever-widening smile.

“You are!” she said, tears streaming down her face. “And now, hopefully, comes the happily ever after part,” she said, leaning across the table, and they kissed in real life.

🩷🩷🩷

Bud Pharo is a disabled veteran who writes flash fiction and short stories. His work has appeared in Fiction on the Web, Altered Reality Magazine, Neither Fish Nor Foul, WayWords, 101 Words, 50 Word Stories, Scribes Micro, and The Siren’s Call, among others.