The dangers of armour

The knight sat on his horse in plate armour.

Oh God, he said. I can't move.

Ho ho, said the horse, and ran away.

Stop!

Ho ho, said the horse, and stopped so suddenly that the knight fell off.

He lay on the ground alone. Wolves licked his armour until he rusted. Lizards laid eggs on him.

O help, said the knight.

Ages went by. Someone, he couldn't see who, built a house nearby and incorporated him into a rockery. He realised that death had forgotten where he was.

Ghblmf, he said, as agapanthus roots grew around his jaw.

When the home was featured in Better Homes & Gardens they photographed the owner leaning on a spade by the rockery, but, as he leaned, the blade of his instrument cut downwards through the earth and into the knight's leg.

Ayooingh!

The knight sat up.

What's that? asked the journalist from Better Homes & Gardens.

I don't know, said the owner.

Mackmngarkl! shouted the knight, stamping around heavily, soil and dandelions dropping off him. Shock had given him the strength to move. Rusty pieces of armour fell away from his chest and limbs. Jmeblblbl!

It's a knight!

Get out of my rockery!

No, leave him alone, said the journalist. We'll do a feature. O sir knight, listen to me --

Bwulnch!

Sir knight!

Prigah! The knight found his tongue. Agapanthus! he shouted. Agapanthus!

The roots had been around his mouth for so long that it was the only word he could say.

Agapanthus! Agapanthus!

The journalist wrote that down.