the Tower Insurmountable (TWS)

>Explain that this isn't a tower at all, but simply a very tall house.

You clutch your mug of tea and take a fortifying swallow. How about-

"Yes, but this isn't a tower!" you bawl. Please let him be a proper idiot. The kind that village fools ridicule in their annual Falling Off the Wall contests. "It's- it's simply a very tall house!"

Silence from below, except for contented chomping which you assume is from the horse. Unless this particular knight fancies weeds and brambles. You eye your papers hopefully. Maybe-

"In the middle of the wasteland?"

Or not.

"Yes!"

"With... 'beware of the dragon' on a sign?"

"Uh, yes! It's a metaphor!"

"It sure looks like a tower, pri- woman."

You breathe in deeply through your nose. "And what if I put a sign out that said 'Not A Tower'?"

More silence, more chomping. The horse sounds happy. You will have manure for your rooftop garden, which makes you happy. Win-win, except for-

"But it looks like a tower!"

Except for that. Time to pull out the big guns.

Send the bastard off on a quest! Tell him he'll have to go into the Swamps of the Old City and find your stolen heart or some such rot. These heroic types go in for that.

You drop your pen and edge for the window, careful to stay behind the gauzy gold curtain. "Well." Careful rustling of the gauze. The gold spangles in the light and you sigh, a delicate sound. "I see I cannot deceive you, brave knight. One as- gallant, and as- as wise as you will understand my position. I am imprisoned here and in need of rescue, but-!"

Dramatic pause. Chomping. The sudden splot of a happy horse in the dust.

"But-?"

"But I am unable to leave! I am cursed! My heart has been stolen from me and hidden in the Swamps of the Old City! In a- a-"

>Give him directions to another tower.

"- in another tower! Two leagues beyond the mossy knoll, past the corner hut of the summer witch, under the troll bridge and through the lake of the Great Grey Swan- check your maps for directions- and then! In the Swamps! In a tower!"

You swoon in the direction of your biscuits. Chocolate chip. Gingernut. Ooo, snickerdoodle. Into your chair and up with your pen and hope, hope, hope-

"Fear not, fair maiden! I will retrieve your heart for you from the Swamp-!"

Yes.

"- and return forthwith!"

Bah. But you'll deal with that when the time comes. "Yes, yes! Farewell, brave and noble knight!"

The sound of someone heaving themselves into the saddle. Whickering. Hoofbeats. You risk a glance out the gauze and see a brown stallion curvetting in the dirt, a fellow in a tin can clinging on tight. Finally.

"Well then," you say, and dunk your snickerdoodle into your tea. Chair. Pen. Paper. Letter. Dear Aunt Margery, thank you for your kind-

"A fair maid languished in a prison high
under the wide and burnished sky
and a heigh-ho nonny,
and a heigh-ho hey-"

Oh no. A minstrel. This has got to stop.

What now?