The Legend of Beetlewort

Luka Stephens - December 4th, 2023

Beetlewort awoke to a ray of sunshine across his eyes. This was new, as Beetlewort lived in a cozy hole underground, where sunlight never touched. Beetlewort pondered this for a moment before realizing what this sunlight meant for him. This meant that the earth above his home had opened up, creating a lovely natural skylight that filled every corner of the room with warm yellow, reflecting off of his engagement ring and making a golden glow on his wall.

Beetlewort crawled out of his new skylight to investigate the cause. As he popped his head out of the ground, he was almost crushed by a boulder. Beetlewort leapt to the side and shielded his eyes with his arm as he looked upwards. In front of him was a great beast! The Beast towered over the land, scooping up earth and creating a dust storm so dense that Beetlewort could barely make out the Beast’s figure as it scooped up his fiancee, the beautiful Lady Bard, from her tower of leaves. The dust settled as the Beast lunged away, putting Lady Bard into a clear cage that Beetlewort felt was most certainly unbreakable.

The soldiers of the kingdom flew by, swords, teeth, and stingers at the ready. But alas, it was to no avail. Beetlewort watched as his comrades in arms whizzed over his head to attack the Beast. The Beast ran, catastrophic steps creating earthquakes that shook Beetlewort to his core.

Beetlewort ran to his shelf and grabbed his trusty sword. As he made his way through the battlefield, he passed by his fallen comrades, many of whom he had just had a joyful dinner with yesterday. Tears stung his eyes as he chased the Beast to the edge of the Great Forest, where a monarch butterfly soldier held him back.

“Don’t,” the butterfly whispered as they ducked behind a leaf. “This beast is just a juvenile. We don’t want to alert any mature ones.”

Beetlewort reluctantly held back as they watched the Beast enter its lair and set Lady Bard’s prison on a ledge. The butterfly soldier turned and said “You’re her fiance, right? You’re Beetlewort?” Beetlewort nodded. The butterfly soldier put his hand firmly on Beetlewort’s shoulder, trying to calm him, as he was shaking and shivering uncontrollably.

“It’ll all be alright. Let’s go regroup and tell the King where she is.” The butterfly soldier gently grabbed Beetlewort’s hand to lead him back to the village. They leapt down from the tree branch to walk on the ground.

On the forest floor, Beetlewort heard a raspy, tired voice call out his name. He turned around to see his close friend and comrade Dame Beelia lying on a fallen branch, her stinger gone, her internal organs spilling onto the tree bark. Beetlewort and the butterfly soldier rushed to her side and each clasped one of her hands. Her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe. “Save the princess, Beetlewort… I know you can do it. Go find… Sir Wosp. He… can help you.” Dame Beelia closed her eyes and took her final breath; her death rattle sent an icy chill down Beetlewort’s spine.

The butterfly soldier and Beetlewort sat by her side and wept. Beelia had been Beetlewort’s friend for his whole life. Beetlewort and the butterfly soldier, who had now introduced himself as Monroe, shared stories of Dame Beelia. Beetlewort learned that Monroe was a newly appointed squire to Dame Beelia’s sister, Dame Honeysuckle. Monroe was very close to both of the sisters and he didn’t want to share this morbid news with Honeysuckle, whose sister was her best friend. He picked up Beelia’s body to take her to the burial grounds, his hot tears dropping on her motionless face.

“Beetlewort,” Monroe said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please be careful.”

“I will.”

Monroe just nodded in response and flew off with Dame Beelia’s limp body. Beetlewort stayed behind, his mind flipping through his cabinet of memories of Beelia. Learning to fight with her, watching her knighthood ceremony, standing guard together, picnics with her and Lady Bard. A pang went through Beetlewort’s heart as he thought of both Beelia and Lady Bard. He couldn’t handle another death. He must save the princess.

Beetlewort glared towards the Beast’s lair. As he looked past the Dry Desert and the Poison Sea, he knelt on one knee and made a vow to Lady Bard.

“I will save you, my lady.”

When Beetlewort arrived back at his village, he set out to find Sir Wosp, who he had never met, but knew to be one of the kingdom’s strongest warriors. He first decided to look in the knight’s barracks, but all he found there was pain and death. Soldiers lying on the floor, missing an arm, a leg. He heard pained cries of sorrow and smelled blood. Overwhelmed, Beetlewort left to check the castle, where he found the wasp talking to the King.

“Beetlewort, son!” The King called out to him.

“Hello, your majesty” Beetlewort kneeled to the king. “I wish to speak with Sir Wosp.”

Sir Wosp gave him a sidelong glance. “Are you expecting me to help you save the Princess?” Wosp said, his voice as sharp as his stinger. “You’re barely past a maggot.”

“Sir, with all due respect, I am Lady Bard’s fiance,” Beetlewort held his ground against the old man. “It is my responsibility to save her. Please, help me.”

Sir Wosp seemed to mull this over for what felt like hours to Beetlewort. Finally he spoke. “Show me what you can do, soldier.”

Beetlewort was exhausted. He had spent hours trying to get a single hit in on Sir Wosp. As he gripped his sword with sweaty palms, he exhaled slowly.

He rushed back, swinging his sword with a sharp motion and a determined look on his face. Sir Wosp knocked Beetlewort to his knees in a few seconds. Beetlewort let out a heavy, fatigued sigh.

“Too much for you, maggot?” Sir Wosp asked with an annoying smirk on his face.

Beetlewort scoffed at Sir Wosp, who for the past few hours, had been saying idotic things to taunt him. Sir Wosp stood arrogantly and pretended to look bored. Beetlewort had had enough. He wiped his hands on his legs and held his sword out in a fighting stance. He flew at Sir Wosp, dodging and swirling around him in a flurry of wings, legs, and weird eyeballs. He finally struck Sir Wosp and then instantly collapsed.

“Good job, maggot,” Beetlewort heard as he fell into a much needed sleep.

When Beetlewort awoke, Sir Wosp was standing above his bed. He put his hand on Beetlewort’s shoulder and told him, “You are ready. Go save her, maggot.”

Beetlewort had decided to set out on his long journey at once, but first he had to pray to the Long Lord of the Forest. He knelt at the statue of the Lord’s figure that sat at the edge of the densest part of the forest.

“Long Lord, please, bless my voyage. I will do whatever it takes to save the princess.” Beetlewort put his hand over his heart. He heard a faint rattle echo through the trees. The Long Lord had heard his prayers. He would surely survive this quest with the Long Lord’s blessing protecting him. He set off.

Beetlewort reached the edge of the Great Forest and gazed across the land to the Beast’s lair. He looked behind his shoulder a final time before he began his journey.

The Flat Desert was the first terrain he must survive. He stepped out of the comfort of his home forest and immediately leapt back; the desert floor was scalding. He decided to fashion shoes out of a fallen leaf. The shoes worked exceptionally, but the ground radiated heat that suffocated Beetlewort. Nevertheless, he continued. He continued for what felt like years, centuries, eons. The Flat Desert was massive and daunting, but Beetlewort was determined to save the princess. He trudged forward, dedicating his every step to her.

Halfway through the desert, Beetlewort came upon an oasis of sorts. This oasis was surrounded by a wall of rocks and included a single, skinny tree and a few brightly colored flowers. He stopped in this miracle oasis to see if anybody was here.

“Hello?” he called. Nobody answered, so he searched around. He soon found the reason for this deafening silence. All the homes and shops had been caved in and sticking out of the ground he saw broken limbs and ripped wings. He gasped and immediately doubled over, vomiting on the floor. He knew that the Beast did this. How awful and deadly could the Beast be, killing all these innocent civilians? Beetlewort was scared, but he knew he must save Lady Bard as soon as possible, lest she meet the same fate.

As he neared the edge of the desert he could smell the Poison Sea. His nose burned as the noxious fumes flooded towards him. Beetlewort had never seen the sea this close before, but he knew what happened if you were to fall in. The sea’s water meant certain death to all who touched it. Many a bee or wasp had traveled to the sea, only to have fallen in and died. The only bugs who could survive were the water bugs, who lived in the Sea. The water bugs were strange, tough warriors, enemies of the kingdom. Beetlewort hoped that he didn’t come across them.

He carefully made his way along the edge of the sea, but was soon blown to the edge by an exceptionally strong gust of wind that glued his wings shut. He teetered on the ledge above the deadly water as his life flashed before his eyes.

As he fell, he felt a smooth surface under him and heard a rattle. It was the Long Lord! The Lord set Beetlewort on the edge of the sea and looked into his eyes for a moment before slithering away. Beetlewort didn’t even have time to say thank you. He continued his journey, thanking the Lord silently as he scurried away from the ledge that had almost ended him.

Just as he was about to exit the water bugs’ territory, Beetlewort heard a gruff and gravelly voice.

“Wait just a moment, forest dweller.”

Beetlewort spun around, his hand on his sword, but he soon found himself forced on his knees, looking up at a giant water bug.

“Why is one of your kind here?” the water bug put his sword to Beetlewort’s neck.

Beetlewort shakily replied, “I’m just passing through.”

The water bug did not believe him. His sharp pincers clacked together as he told Beetlewort to stand up. “Duel me and you can pass.”

Beetlewort, shivering, held out his sword.

The water bug jumped towards him, swinging his sword with a flourish. His sword grazed Beetlewort’s shoulder. The wound stung and Beetlewort stepped back.

The water bug licked Beetlewort’s blood off his sword. “It’s covered in water from the sea,” he cackled. “Doesn’t it sting?” He said, his voice like ice and his eyes even colder.

Beetlewort stood up while the water bug was laughing his terrible, thick laugh. He flew forward and swirled around the water bug, severing two of his limbs and forcing him to drop his sword. He stopped laughing. His cold eyes became hot, like the heat of a thousand suns and he picked up his sword with a different arm and yelled a ferocious battle cry that echoed off the outside of the beast’s lair.

He lunged forward, slashing and chopping and slicing. Beetlewort dodged all his attacks, which had become rather clumsy. Beetlewort saw his opening and stabbed into the water bug’s chest, spearing all the way through his thick exoskeleton and out his back. Beetlewort withdrew his sword and sheathed it. The water bug’s chest spurted blood as he fell to the ground. Beetlewort curtly turned on his heels and left.

Soon after, Beetlewort came upon the giant steps that the Beast used to enter its lair. Each step was ten times Beetlewort’s height and made of flat rock. Luckily, Beetlewort could climb and fly. Flying quickly tired him, so he decided to save his energy and climb. The climb was quite easy and Beetlewort quickly made his way to the entrance to the Beast’s lair. He slipped through a crack in the wall and made his way to Lady Bard.

Inside the Beast’s lair was a sight that was more horrible than anything that Beetlewort had ever laid his eyes upon. The Beast had guards! The guards were giant and lanky, with long, pointed teeth that glistened when they raised their lips and sharp claws that could shred even the strongest of critters.

Beetlewort was scared stiff. He couldn’t breathe or think. The guards stared him down, their slitted pupils stabbing Beetlewort like daggers. Suddenly, one of the guards wiggled strangely and pounced, missing Beetlewort by merely an inch! This shocked him back to reality and he could finally move. He took off towards Lady Bard. He swerved and fluttered and flitted between the guards’ grasps. He could feel their hot, smelly breath surrounding his body in a thick and suffocating haze.

Right as he made it under the ledge, the Beast came from behind a corner! It shrieked a terrible shriek that chilled Beetlewort’s body, but he was no longer afraid. The Beast yelled garbled words at the guards and they pursued him. He flew as fast as his wings could carry him.

But the guards were faster than he was. One of the guards nipped Beetlewort, severing one of his legs and breaking two more. As the pain flooded his body, Beetlewort inhaled and tried to ignore it, pushing his wings to their limit and flying high above their reach. He landed on the ledge where Lady Bard was kept.

“Oh, Beetlewort!” Lady Bard exclaimed when he saw him descend to her ledge. “You came for me after all!” The princess clasped her hands together. “Hurry! There’s an opening at the top of the prison! Use something to pry it open!”

Beetlewort glanced around, trying to find something, when his eyes landed on what looked like a giant sword, longer than his body and strangely flat. The end appeared to be stained red and covered in something sticky that glistened in the sun. He grabbed this giant sword and wobbled over to Lady Bard, almost falling off the ledge.

“Beetlewort! Look out!” Lady Bard’s voice rang through the air.

Beetlewort spun around and found himself face to face with the Beast. It reached its giant hands to him and he scurried towards Lady Bard’s cage and picked up his own sword, exchanging it for the giant one. He rushed to the Beast and stabbed it in the eye. When he did, it lashed out, swatting the air around Beetlewort. He tried his best to avoid it, but his injuries had slowed him and the Beast hit him hard. The wind was knocked out of his lungs as he was slammed against the wall of the princess’s cage.

“Beetlewort! No!” Lady Bard rushed to the wall of the cage that separated them. “Beetlewort please! Get up!”

Beetlewort could hardly hear her words; his body’s throbbing filled his ears. One of his wings was crushed awkwardly under his body, and the other had been jaggedly ripped in half. Despite the overwhelming pain, he got up. He grabbed the giant sword and made his way to the top of Lady Bard’s cage, breathing heavily and slowly. He pried the cage open and helped the princess out.

He held her in his remaining arms and slowly made his way out of the lair. The Beast and its guards had turned their attention elsewhere and beyond the Beast’s cries and the guards’ strange trills, Beetlewort could hear a quiet but distinct rattle.

As Beetlewort’s injuries started to cause his steps to falter, Lady Bard led him to a hidden temple that was just outside the Beast’s lair. The worm priests at the temple treated Beetlewort’s wounds, but even they could only do so much as blood and flesh oozed out of Beetlewort’s shattered exoskeleton. Lady Bard held his hand as he laid on a leaf, his breath faltering and his eyes fluttering open and shut.

“My lady… my love…” Beetleworth choked out. “I love you… more than anything.” Beetlewort took a final look at her beauty and then closed his eyes.

“I love you too! Beetlewort, please! Stay with me, please!” Lady Bard desperately cried.

“Goodbye… my sunshine….” Beetlewort went limp.

Lady Bard held him close and wept until her eyes were dry and her throat was hoarse. The worm priests comforted her as they prayed over Beetlewort’s body, to ensure that the Long Lord would look over him.

The priests prepared to return Beetlewort and Lady Bard to the village. They called one of the Spirits of the land, the great Falcon, to take Lady Bard safely home and to carry Beetlewort’s body. The journey was quick and they soon arrived back at the village.

As the Falcon landed, setting down his passengers, the king and his knights rushed to Lady Bard and Beetlewort. The king hugged his daughter, tears pricking his eyes, while the knights surrounded Beetlewort’s corpse to take to the graveyard to bury.

“He was a hero,” Monroe said, grabbing Beetlewort’s sword and placing it on his chest.

The kingdom held Beetlewort’s funeral the same day as Dame Beelia and all their other fallen comrades’. Lady Bard sobbed by Beetlewort's coffin and Monroe put his hand on her shoulder, offering a small gesture of comfort. The King gave a speech commemorating Beetlewort, and as the hero’s body was lowered into his grave, a grand statue of him was unveiled. This statue was to sit in the middle of the village that Beetlewort lived in, immortalizing his bravery for generations to come. A song was also created, to pass along the story of the Legend of Beetlewort.

After the funeral, Lady Bard sat alone in her garden, curled into a ball. She shook and quivered, her stinging tears falling to the floor. The sun was setting, illuminating the sky with beautiful pinks and oranges. She looked to the sky and prayed to the Long Lord. She prayed for Beetlewort in the afterlife, she prayed for the kingdom’s safety, and she prayed that the Beast may never come back. She sat silently for a moment, watching as the vibrant sky turned black. She was exhausted and laid down in the soft clovers and grass that carpeted her garden. As she drifted to sleep, she could’ve sworn she heard a distant rattling.