http://bane-6.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
bane-6.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
31_days2008-02-12 07:06 pm
bane-6.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2008-02-12 07:06 pm
[Feb 12] [Jim Henson's The Storyteller] Changing Fortune
Title: Changing Fortune
Day/Theme: Feb. 12 - "The sweet fruition of an earthly crown"
Series: Jim Henson's The Storyteller
Character/Pairing: Storyteller, his Dog, and a hint of Baron Munchausen (no pairing)
Rating: PG
The Storyteller offered his Dog a cherry from the bowl in his lap. The Dog just shook its head and went back to gnawing at the soup bone. The Storyteller popped a cherry in his mouth, biting the stem off and letting the pit sit in his cheek a moment before spitting it into the fire. He held the second one up to admire it for a moment, the perfect smooth redness of it, then ate it the same way.
“You were lucky to find that cherry tree,” the Dog said.
“Luck has everything to do with it, my friend,” the Storyteller said. “But not all luck is good.”
“I suppose eating them all and getting a belly ache would be bad luck,” the Dog said. “But it doesn’t change the good luck of having enough food to overeat in the first place.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time we went hungry,” agreed the Storyteller. “I remember the summer I was part of a Baron’s retinue. He had led us miles into the woods after a fabled white stag. It was said that eating its heart would make you twenty years younger, that wearing its hide would make you invulnerable, and that hanging its antlers over your door would only allow good luck into your house.”
“Sounds like something you would tell him.”
“Whoever had put the idea in his head, the Baron had chased the beast for a month and a half. Our provisions were almost used up, all the ammunition had been fired at bare glimpses of the stag, and we were lost in the depths of a wood, black and bristly as spider legs. We foraged as best we could, muttering of our bad luck, and the Baron continued on his hunt.
Finally, at long last, his luck changed and he spotted the beast as it came to drink from a stream, one mist-haunted morning. Like moonlight on ivory, like sunlight on seafoam, it was as white as a child’s first memory of snow. The Baron felt about for his bullets and bad luck! remembered they were gone. He felt about in the empty food bags until good luck! He found a pile of cherry stones. He grabbed one of them and put it in his gun, aimed over his arm, and fired!”
The Storyteller paused to spit another pit into the fire and it hissed and popped a moment, making the Dog jump.
“Now, the Baron wasn’t the best shot in the retinue, but hunger and desperation had lent him their aim. Good luck again! He shot the stag square between the eyes. And bad luck again, the pit wasn’t enough of a bullet to break the skull. It left a spot of blood, red as the cherry it had come from, on the perfect white brow.
“The stag cried in pain and took to its heels, leaving the Baron shouting after it. The commotion woke us all. The Baron was on his horse in a heartbeat, roaring and shouting for us to follow and he was off after the poor creature again.
“We were lost for another five days. We never saw the stag again, but it lead us out of the woods to a town.”
“Good and bad luck again, huh?”
“Oh indeed. And the story changed. Now the story is of a winter-white stag, shy as a unicorn, with antlers like the ghost of oak trees, and between them, a cherry tree growing.”
The Dog choked at that.
“Oh, you’re kidding…” it sputtered. The Storyteller just smiled and offered the bowl again. “Are you really going to sit there and tell me that you got those cherries from the head of a deer?”
“Luckily enough,” the Storyteller chuckled. “The stag doesn’t mind having the load lightened a bit, especially this time of year.”
“And lucky me too, I guess,” the Dog said, rolling its eyes. "To get to hear about it."
Day/Theme: Feb. 12 - "The sweet fruition of an earthly crown"
Series: Jim Henson's The Storyteller
Character/Pairing: Storyteller, his Dog, and a hint of Baron Munchausen (no pairing)
Rating: PG
The Storyteller offered his Dog a cherry from the bowl in his lap. The Dog just shook its head and went back to gnawing at the soup bone. The Storyteller popped a cherry in his mouth, biting the stem off and letting the pit sit in his cheek a moment before spitting it into the fire. He held the second one up to admire it for a moment, the perfect smooth redness of it, then ate it the same way.
“You were lucky to find that cherry tree,” the Dog said.
“Luck has everything to do with it, my friend,” the Storyteller said. “But not all luck is good.”
“I suppose eating them all and getting a belly ache would be bad luck,” the Dog said. “But it doesn’t change the good luck of having enough food to overeat in the first place.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time we went hungry,” agreed the Storyteller. “I remember the summer I was part of a Baron’s retinue. He had led us miles into the woods after a fabled white stag. It was said that eating its heart would make you twenty years younger, that wearing its hide would make you invulnerable, and that hanging its antlers over your door would only allow good luck into your house.”
“Sounds like something you would tell him.”
“Whoever had put the idea in his head, the Baron had chased the beast for a month and a half. Our provisions were almost used up, all the ammunition had been fired at bare glimpses of the stag, and we were lost in the depths of a wood, black and bristly as spider legs. We foraged as best we could, muttering of our bad luck, and the Baron continued on his hunt.
Finally, at long last, his luck changed and he spotted the beast as it came to drink from a stream, one mist-haunted morning. Like moonlight on ivory, like sunlight on seafoam, it was as white as a child’s first memory of snow. The Baron felt about for his bullets and bad luck! remembered they were gone. He felt about in the empty food bags until good luck! He found a pile of cherry stones. He grabbed one of them and put it in his gun, aimed over his arm, and fired!”
The Storyteller paused to spit another pit into the fire and it hissed and popped a moment, making the Dog jump.
“Now, the Baron wasn’t the best shot in the retinue, but hunger and desperation had lent him their aim. Good luck again! He shot the stag square between the eyes. And bad luck again, the pit wasn’t enough of a bullet to break the skull. It left a spot of blood, red as the cherry it had come from, on the perfect white brow.
“The stag cried in pain and took to its heels, leaving the Baron shouting after it. The commotion woke us all. The Baron was on his horse in a heartbeat, roaring and shouting for us to follow and he was off after the poor creature again.
“We were lost for another five days. We never saw the stag again, but it lead us out of the woods to a town.”
“Good and bad luck again, huh?”
“Oh indeed. And the story changed. Now the story is of a winter-white stag, shy as a unicorn, with antlers like the ghost of oak trees, and between them, a cherry tree growing.”
The Dog choked at that.
“Oh, you’re kidding…” it sputtered. The Storyteller just smiled and offered the bowl again. “Are you really going to sit there and tell me that you got those cherries from the head of a deer?”
“Luckily enough,” the Storyteller chuckled. “The stag doesn’t mind having the load lightened a bit, especially this time of year.”
“And lucky me too, I guess,” the Dog said, rolling its eyes. "To get to hear about it."