How Sir Aaron came to be known as Houndbane.
Once upon a time, several fair maidens went on a quest to gather wild flowers on the edges of Eiterbie. Laughing brightly and skipping from flower to flower, arms laden with colour and fragrence, the fair maids noticed a darkning of the sky, and a bitter chill gathering in the air, and at once decided to return to the safety of thier homes. Now they must need go through a wood, as the road home demanded. As they went, dark clouds grew deeper across the sky, and the brush hissed as it bent and trembled in the rising wind and the trees groaned in their swaying, adn fear made the strength of thier hearts grow small. However, although strange sounds cracked, scraped, and moaned in the wood, nothing happened as they drew nearer to the warm hearths awaiting them. The light of home becoming visible, the hearts of the maidens grew anew, despite the faint sounds of something, possibly, lurking amidst the rustle of leaf and tree. Just when their hearts were at thier full, a great darkness bounded from the trees onto the path before them--snarling, snapping, reeking--a great hell-hound, an icky from the wild! The maidens screamed in terror, and the fell beast lunged and reached with his fangs to tear them, held back only by the colour and scent of the good flowers. The maidens were certain that the hellhounds courage would soon mount agaisnt the flowers, and called for help.
***
It came to pass that a man, riding on his way home, heard the screams of the fair maidens, and spurred his horse forward. Rounding the last bend upon the path, the poor horse saw the black beast with its flesh ripping claws and pannicked, throwing the rider amidst the maidens and bolting the other way.
The man however, saw the danger to the maidens, and his heart grew large with courage, and taking the stem of a great flower (having no sword) he brandished it against the beast, railing against him, with nothing but good boldness against the teeth that part life from flesh! Putting himself between maidens and the beast he held is ground, standing in the gap.
(Now the flower he was holding was called Peter's Sword, for it is white with sword shaped petals)
And as he stood and dashed between the maidens and the beast the flower grew larger, and colder, and sharper--an lo! A sword was in his hands--a bright sword, a slicing sword--and sword met fang, and steel met bone, and the sword dove deep into the heart of the slobbering hound, and it died thrashing and wallowing in black blood at the feet of the man--Aaron of Slabia!
