Post by ladymoondancer on Jun 29, 2009 22:24:47 GMT -5
Well. I am not sure where this story originated in my brain, but here it comes!
Crowning Dilemma
Once upon a time, a king and queen happily ruled their small kingdom. Queen Silvermane and King Goldengland's lands were fertile, their subjects were happy and celebrated many rustic festivals, and even their courtesans enjoyed life too thoroughly to spend much time plotting or squabbling. Yes, for this royal couple life was as close to perfection as possible (except for the fact that they were expected to attend each and every rustic festival, and thus spent many hours watching folk dances with glazed eyes.)
It seemed like the royal couple had everything their hearts desired. But one winter day the queen sat by the window sewing (or at least attempting to sew.) As she looked out at the snow-covered courtyard, she felt something dripping from her hoof. She looked down to see a drop of her blood staining the snow. Then another drop. And another. Because hooves and needles are not a good combination.
The queen set aside her needlework, which was a mad tangle of strings and loops anyway, and gazed at ruby red blood on the snow piled on the ebony black window frame. She was struck by the beautiful combination and said to herself, "If only I could have a child who was white as snow, red as blood, and black as ebony wood."
Just then the king came in and asked why on earth she was sitting with the window open in the middle of winter, and didn't she know that firewood didn't grow on trees?
She turned to him and announced, "I want a child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as ebony wood." And the king was struck by this idea and decided the window could wait.
~*~
Eleven months later the queen died in childbirth, leaving behind a grieving husband and a child who was not, in fact, as white as snow, as red as blood, or as black as ebony wood.
Despite the queen's tragic death and the foal's disappointing color scheme, King Goldengland consoled himself with the thought that his child was at least healthy. Not like that royal couple three kingdoms over who, rumor had it, had given birth to a filly with two heads. (Like most rumors, this one was wildly inaccurate and contained many untruths. The filly in question did NOT have two heads. She did, however, have five legs.)
At first the king found fatherhood to be easy, a pleasant way to unwind after a harrowing day of deciding court cases and suffering through yet more Morris dances. How pleasant to see his baby giggle over simple pleasures like a new bottle or a game of peek-a-boo.
But he soon discovered his new responsibilities had a downside, such as when he commissioned a portrait of the royal family from the most renowned painter in all the land. The first half hour went well enough, as he made faces and talked in silly voices to keep the baby entertained and sitting still, but soon the infant began to squirm, then cry, then out and out wail. The king tried everything he could think of to keep the baby quiet--pleading, stern lectures, out-and-out bribery--but by the end of the day the baby had thrown a massive kicking, screaming, lying-on-the-floor-flailing tantrum that had destroyed large swaths of the royal curtains, an antique chair belonging to the king's great-grandmother, the half-finished canvas, and the painter's nerves. (After leaving the palace in tears, the painter retired to tend his vegetable garden and never picked up a brush again.)
The king realized he needed advice not only as a father, but as a royal father. So he ordered his royal carriage harnessed to four noble steeds (also known as the cook, the gardener, the first maid, and the second maid) and set off to visit his friend King Rampant.
~*~
King Rampant lived in a neighboring kingdom and occasionally visited King Goldengland to chat about the stresses of kingly life and play croquet. Furthermore, he had several grown children so obviously he had done something right. Goldengland played two games of croquet with him and accepted a plate of raspberry tarts and a tall glass of lemonade before describing his dilemma to his friend.
Rampant listened closely as Goldengland talked about his doubts about fatherhood and pondered various solutions out loud.
"It would be different if the queen were still alive," Goldengland sighed. "A young foal needs a mother. Perhaps if I remarried--"
"Oh no. Definitely not," Rampant said firmly. "You know King Platinum? Little kingdom to the west? He remarried and it was a disaster. His new queen--" Rampant tapped the side of his head meaningfully. "Not right up there. Got a funny complex about his daughter, kept trying to make her dress in rags and scrub the floors. And King Giltwing's new wife, not only did she do the same thing, but also every time he went in the bathroom . . . there she was, talking to the mirror."
King Goldengland was alarmed; the last thing he needed was a wife chatting to household items and forcing his child to do housework and drudgery. Didn't those mares understand that was why they hired domestics? But still, something needed to be done.
"Hire a nursemaid or a nanny," Rampant suggested. "That's what I did."
"Truly?"
"To be sure. Best decision I ever made." Rampant paused to sip lemonade through his straw. "They're experts at child-rearing. They know exactly what to do."
Goldengland thought it over. The idea appealed to him. But he had a question. "What's the difference between a nanny and a nursemaid?"
"That's easy," Rampant said. "Nannies are fat and comfortable, whereas nursemaids wear silly hats."
More to come.
Crowning Dilemma
Once upon a time, a king and queen happily ruled their small kingdom. Queen Silvermane and King Goldengland's lands were fertile, their subjects were happy and celebrated many rustic festivals, and even their courtesans enjoyed life too thoroughly to spend much time plotting or squabbling. Yes, for this royal couple life was as close to perfection as possible (except for the fact that they were expected to attend each and every rustic festival, and thus spent many hours watching folk dances with glazed eyes.)
It seemed like the royal couple had everything their hearts desired. But one winter day the queen sat by the window sewing (or at least attempting to sew.) As she looked out at the snow-covered courtyard, she felt something dripping from her hoof. She looked down to see a drop of her blood staining the snow. Then another drop. And another. Because hooves and needles are not a good combination.
The queen set aside her needlework, which was a mad tangle of strings and loops anyway, and gazed at ruby red blood on the snow piled on the ebony black window frame. She was struck by the beautiful combination and said to herself, "If only I could have a child who was white as snow, red as blood, and black as ebony wood."
Just then the king came in and asked why on earth she was sitting with the window open in the middle of winter, and didn't she know that firewood didn't grow on trees?
She turned to him and announced, "I want a child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as ebony wood." And the king was struck by this idea and decided the window could wait.
~*~
Eleven months later the queen died in childbirth, leaving behind a grieving husband and a child who was not, in fact, as white as snow, as red as blood, or as black as ebony wood.
Despite the queen's tragic death and the foal's disappointing color scheme, King Goldengland consoled himself with the thought that his child was at least healthy. Not like that royal couple three kingdoms over who, rumor had it, had given birth to a filly with two heads. (Like most rumors, this one was wildly inaccurate and contained many untruths. The filly in question did NOT have two heads. She did, however, have five legs.)
At first the king found fatherhood to be easy, a pleasant way to unwind after a harrowing day of deciding court cases and suffering through yet more Morris dances. How pleasant to see his baby giggle over simple pleasures like a new bottle or a game of peek-a-boo.
But he soon discovered his new responsibilities had a downside, such as when he commissioned a portrait of the royal family from the most renowned painter in all the land. The first half hour went well enough, as he made faces and talked in silly voices to keep the baby entertained and sitting still, but soon the infant began to squirm, then cry, then out and out wail. The king tried everything he could think of to keep the baby quiet--pleading, stern lectures, out-and-out bribery--but by the end of the day the baby had thrown a massive kicking, screaming, lying-on-the-floor-flailing tantrum that had destroyed large swaths of the royal curtains, an antique chair belonging to the king's great-grandmother, the half-finished canvas, and the painter's nerves. (After leaving the palace in tears, the painter retired to tend his vegetable garden and never picked up a brush again.)
The king realized he needed advice not only as a father, but as a royal father. So he ordered his royal carriage harnessed to four noble steeds (also known as the cook, the gardener, the first maid, and the second maid) and set off to visit his friend King Rampant.
~*~
King Rampant lived in a neighboring kingdom and occasionally visited King Goldengland to chat about the stresses of kingly life and play croquet. Furthermore, he had several grown children so obviously he had done something right. Goldengland played two games of croquet with him and accepted a plate of raspberry tarts and a tall glass of lemonade before describing his dilemma to his friend.
Rampant listened closely as Goldengland talked about his doubts about fatherhood and pondered various solutions out loud.
"It would be different if the queen were still alive," Goldengland sighed. "A young foal needs a mother. Perhaps if I remarried--"
"Oh no. Definitely not," Rampant said firmly. "You know King Platinum? Little kingdom to the west? He remarried and it was a disaster. His new queen--" Rampant tapped the side of his head meaningfully. "Not right up there. Got a funny complex about his daughter, kept trying to make her dress in rags and scrub the floors. And King Giltwing's new wife, not only did she do the same thing, but also every time he went in the bathroom . . . there she was, talking to the mirror."
King Goldengland was alarmed; the last thing he needed was a wife chatting to household items and forcing his child to do housework and drudgery. Didn't those mares understand that was why they hired domestics? But still, something needed to be done.
"Hire a nursemaid or a nanny," Rampant suggested. "That's what I did."
"Truly?"
"To be sure. Best decision I ever made." Rampant paused to sip lemonade through his straw. "They're experts at child-rearing. They know exactly what to do."
Goldengland thought it over. The idea appealed to him. But he had a question. "What's the difference between a nanny and a nursemaid?"
"That's easy," Rampant said. "Nannies are fat and comfortable, whereas nursemaids wear silly hats."
More to come.
