How Bearwood Got Its Name.
Many centuries ago, a vicious bear, whose names was King Gregory, ruled the land. He had sharp, jaggered claws which he used to scratch out his servant eyes if they disobeyed him or did something wrong. Nobody liked King Gregory, especially Martin Smith. Martin was like a hero in Birmingham since he would fight evil. Martin Smith hated King Gregory for who he was since he was cruel to everyone and he hated everyone. He just couldn’t stand him.
One day Martin was in the barbers, having a haircut. As he looked out the window he saw the king fighting with a peasant. Martin did not like this so he barged outside wanting to teach the king a lesson. He walked up to him, knuckles clenched, anger in his veins and his face red with fury. Whilst his knuckles were clenched, he lifted his hands towards the king’s face with his face even furious than before. His hand was a centimeter away from the king’s face but he stopped to the call of someone’s voice. He looked over his shoulder. It was his brother, Luke. “Don’t Martin. Don’t punch him.” He said. Martin was confused. What was he saying?
“Martin, what you were about to do I’ve tried it before and it did not end up good.” Luke pulled up his sleeve. Martin was shocked at what he saw.
Luke had a gigantic cut full with blood and dirt sat on his arm by his shoulder. He pulled his sleeve back down. “I challenged the king to a fight but I lost.” He said glumly. Martin wanted to make Luke feel better. Suddenly, an idea popped in his brain. He was going to challenge the king to a joust. He knew that he was going to win for sure.
The next day was Saturday, the day of joust. Martin woke up and looked out the window. He thought it would be a bright, sunny morning but it wasn’t. Rain was drizzling down the window.
“It’s the day of the joust and it’s raining like mad. What am I going to do?” Upsetting thoughts about the joust drifted into his brain. His cheerful smile turned into a frown.
Meanwhile, the king was cackling away. He thought that since it was raining, the joust would move to another day, making him have more time to practice so that he would win the joust. “It’s raining cats and dogs outside. There’s absolutely no way that the joust will be on. Martin might be feeling ever so sad but I’m feeling ever so happy!”
A couple hours later, it was still raining but more heavily.
Martin was sitting on his bed. “I don’t want to end the joust. I’ve been training so hard since last night. Anyway as they say in the theatres, ‘the show must go on’ so it will even if it is raining.” Martin got dressed in his metal amour suit even though the joust wasn’t till 4 o’clock.
After he was dressed, he walked downstairs nervously to have a hot cup of tea. As he picked up his tea, his lips were trembling and he was wobbling like jelly which made his tea spill on the kitchen floor. “I’m shaking and trembling right now but how am I going to feel when I’m actually fighting?” He asked himself worriedly. His heart sunk deep into sadness.
After a while, it was 4 o’clock, the time of the joust. So Martin made his way to Warley Woods, where they were going to fight. He waited and waited in the rain till half past 4, however the king did not show up. “Where’s the king? I told him to meet me here at 4 o’clock. Everybody’s waiting for him.” Martin was getting anxious thinking that the king wouldn’t show up. He sat down on the fresh grass feeling bored and tired of waiting. Just at that moment the king came galloping on his horse. The king was wearing a black cloak and his sparkling, exquisite crown with intricate, embellished patterns detailed all over. As he came galloping in on his white horse, Martin stood up. “You’ve finally come. Now let’s start the game.” Martin shouted to the king with a grin on his face. Martin sat on his horse.
“Ready, steady, go!” shouted the jouster. They both raced like cheetahs towards each other. They pulled out their shiny, handcrafted swords and held them by their side. As they came nearer and nearer, Martin aimed to the kings head. He missed. Since he only had one go, he did not be put off. They raced again.
This time it was the kings turn. He held his sword in his hand. As they came closer the king tried to jab Martin in the stomach but he jabbed his hand instead. The blood was dripping down, oozing from his hand. “Ha, ha, ha!” The king cackled proudly. A tear cascaded down Martins face. He wiped the tear off his face gently, trying to be brave.
“3 minutes left!” shouted the jouster. This was the last round. Who was going to win? King Gregory or Martin Smith?
The jouster announced go and the last round began. This was the final moment. They galloped towards each other and pointed their swords to each other’s faces. The king swung the sword to Martin but he ducked his face so the king missed. Martin swung the sword. What a shot! The king fell off his horse and dropped to the ground. “And Martin Smith is the winner!” The king was devastated, but Martin was in high spirits. “Well done Martin.” Said his brother cheerfully. They both hugged each other. The king was lying down on the grass in agony and pain. “You’ve defeated me. How could you? I’ve never done anything to you.”
“Yes that’s right. You have not done anything to me but to my friends you have which hurt me a lot.” The king went away to his palace to collect his things. He wanted to move to the country side to start a new life and everyone agreed that he should. Martin was now known as a real hero in the town. Since the king left, Martin made the palace into a museum and named it ‘Bearwood’ because the king lived there and was a bear and because the museum was made out of wood.
So that is the story of how Bearwood got its name.