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31_days2007-12-04 06:56 pm
bane-6.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2007-12-04 06:56 pm
[Dec 4] [The Storyteller] Spark of Hero
Title: Spark of Hero
Day/Theme: 4. When all else fails
Series: Jim Henson's The Storyteller
Character/Pairing: youngest son/miller's daughter
Rating: G
“Things hadn’t gone well for the youngest son,” the Storyteller sighed. “There had been no mysterious elder appearing to offer a lift to, or help cross a river. He hadn’t stumbled upon any fairies in disguise, kindly witches, or talking animals.”
The Dog rolled his eyes.
“No beggers on the way to trade a meal for a magic item. No golden balls to fetch from the bottom of wells. No outside help had shown up at all. What to do, he thought. What ever to do?”
“So what did he do?” the Dog grumbled.
“There was nothing left that could be done,” the Storyteller said, folding his hands over his stomach. “He prayed for courage, found a good sturdy stick, and went down the road to the ogre’s castle by himself.”
“Was the stick made of the one kind of wood the ogre was vulnerable to?” asked the Dog.
“Not that he had ever heard.”
“Did he manage to hit the ogre on the one spot that would kill it?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“So what happened?”
“He was never heard of again.”
The Dog raised his head and looked at the Storyteller, waiting for more. When the Storyteller only smiled distantly into the fire, the Dog decided to ask.
“Is that all??” The Storyteller indulged in an elaborate shrug, and the Dog was aghast. “That’s a terrible ending!”
“It isn’t an ending at all!” The Storyteller said. “The fact of the matter happened to be that there was no ogre, just a memory of one, frightening the local children and keeping poachers out of the woods. The youngest son had a new problem.
“There was no ogre for him to defeat, no captives to free, no treasure to carry home in glory to impress the miller’s prettiest daughter. He had been afraid, but had overcome it, and now found himself disappointed. All that courage worked up for nothing but an empty castle with decent fireplaces and not much else.
“If he went home now, he’d be laughed at. With nothing to show, who would believe he had ever really swallowed his fear, hefted a staff, and walked into the empty darkness?”
“So?”
“So, maybe he went on to the next wood, the next haunted castle. He had found the spark of a hero in himself when nothing else had come to light his way, and couldn’t give up now.”
“So where did he end up then, if no one knows the rest of the story?” The Dog’s voice was snide and the Storyteller raised his finger again to say when they were both startled by three knocks. It was the sound of a wooden staff against their old, dusty door.
Day/Theme: 4. When all else fails
Series: Jim Henson's The Storyteller
Character/Pairing: youngest son/miller's daughter
Rating: G
“Things hadn’t gone well for the youngest son,” the Storyteller sighed. “There had been no mysterious elder appearing to offer a lift to, or help cross a river. He hadn’t stumbled upon any fairies in disguise, kindly witches, or talking animals.”
The Dog rolled his eyes.
“No beggers on the way to trade a meal for a magic item. No golden balls to fetch from the bottom of wells. No outside help had shown up at all. What to do, he thought. What ever to do?”
“So what did he do?” the Dog grumbled.
“There was nothing left that could be done,” the Storyteller said, folding his hands over his stomach. “He prayed for courage, found a good sturdy stick, and went down the road to the ogre’s castle by himself.”
“Was the stick made of the one kind of wood the ogre was vulnerable to?” asked the Dog.
“Not that he had ever heard.”
“Did he manage to hit the ogre on the one spot that would kill it?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“So what happened?”
“He was never heard of again.”
The Dog raised his head and looked at the Storyteller, waiting for more. When the Storyteller only smiled distantly into the fire, the Dog decided to ask.
“Is that all??” The Storyteller indulged in an elaborate shrug, and the Dog was aghast. “That’s a terrible ending!”
“It isn’t an ending at all!” The Storyteller said. “The fact of the matter happened to be that there was no ogre, just a memory of one, frightening the local children and keeping poachers out of the woods. The youngest son had a new problem.
“There was no ogre for him to defeat, no captives to free, no treasure to carry home in glory to impress the miller’s prettiest daughter. He had been afraid, but had overcome it, and now found himself disappointed. All that courage worked up for nothing but an empty castle with decent fireplaces and not much else.
“If he went home now, he’d be laughed at. With nothing to show, who would believe he had ever really swallowed his fear, hefted a staff, and walked into the empty darkness?”
“So?”
“So, maybe he went on to the next wood, the next haunted castle. He had found the spark of a hero in himself when nothing else had come to light his way, and couldn’t give up now.”
“So where did he end up then, if no one knows the rest of the story?” The Dog’s voice was snide and the Storyteller raised his finger again to say when they were both startled by three knocks. It was the sound of a wooden staff against their old, dusty door.