Lu Hallulat (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
elucreh.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lu_fics2009-09-11 02:27 pm
elucreh.livejournal.com) wrote in lu_fics2009-09-11 02:27 pm
Howled Happily Along: A Folktale
Title: Howled Happily Along: A Folktale
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elucreh
Wordcount: ~1600
Rated: G
Ship: Gen
Summary: The music could never be truly beautiful, he felt, unless there were others there to share it with.
A/N: So my folklore professor asked us to write an original folk tale, and I grabbed a pencil, and the first line I thought of to write was, Once, not long ago, there was a young man, short of stature but kind of heart, who wanted more than anything else in the world to make beautiful music. It's possible I should be under some kind of medical supervision. Please be warned, this is a story written according to very strict rules about "what is a folktale", so it is not at all like most fic.
Further A/N: Obviously written with a pre-split worldview
Once, not long ago, there was a young man, short of stature but kind of heart, who wanted more than anything else in the world to make beautiful music. He was of a loving family, but not one that had ever understood him, and it was lonely to sing alone, or to drum on the table, or to run his fingers over the piano keys where the notes rang out too-loud and were lost to the stillness of an empty room. The music could never be truly beautiful, he felt, unless there were others there to share it with.
One day one of his friends, knowing of his loneliness and his joy in music, came to him in great excitement. “As I was walking through the woods,” he said, “I heard a beautiful song coming from a cave. I came to tell you; perhaps there is someone there who can help you to make music.”
“Where?” The young man snatched up his hat and his guitar, ready to set off at once. “Can you take me there?”
“I cannot come with you,” his friend said, “for I have business of my own to attend to, but I will leave you my dogs to guide you. They heard the music, too, and they have very good ears. They will find the musicians for you.”
The young man thanked his friend, kissed his mother and father, and set off into the wood, strumming the guitar hanging from his neck and sometimes singing a few words. The dogs, trotting beside him, one on his right hand and one on his left, howled happily along.
Deeper and deeper into the woods they went, the young man and the dogs, until they came to the mouth of a cave set deep into a mountain. From the inner depths of the cave they could hear music echoing around the walls, distorted by the distance, but still beautiful. “Oh,” breathed the young man, happily, and walked right in, strumming the guitar hanging from his neck. The dogs, trotting beside him, one on his right hand and one on his left, howled happily along.
They came to a place where the cave parted ways, one path to the right, one path to the left, and one path that went straight ahead. From this point it was clear that there was music of more than one kind washing through the cave, the melancholy strings of a guitar, the steady thrum of a bass, and the beat-beat-beat of a drum, but it was impossible to tell where the sounds were coming from.
“Which way shall we go?” the young man wondered, and the dog on his left hand barked in reply. “All right, then,” he said, and took the path on the left, strumming the guitar hanging from his neck. The dogs, trotting beside him, one on his right hand and one on his left, howled happily along.
In due time they came to an open cave, where there sat a fragile man in hat and waistcoat who was plucking a melancholy tune. The young man began to play along, and the man in the hat looked up in surprise and pleasure. They played, the one answering the other, until the song was done, and then they smiled at one another.
“That is beautiful music you are playing,” the young man said. “Will you come and make music with me?”
“I would come,” the man in the hat said, “but in these caves I have lost the men who play with me. Together we could make the most beautiful music of all.”
“I think I can find them,” the young man assured him. “If you will only walk with me a little ways.”
“Gladly,” the man in the hat replied, and together they set off, the man in the hat plucking at his strings, and the young man strumming the guitar hanging from his neck. The dogs, trotting beside him, one on his right hand and one on his left, howled happily along.
They came to the place where the cave parted ways, one path to the right, one path to the left, and one path that went straight ahead, and they stopped. “Do you wait here,” the young man told the man in the hat, “and when I have found those who will play with us, we will return to you.”
“All right,” said the man in the hat, and sat down to wait.
Now there was music of two kinds washing through the cave, the steady thrum of a bass and the beat-beat-beat of a drum, but it was impossible to tell where the sounds were coming from.
“Which way shall we go?” the young man wondered, and the dog on his right hand barked in reply. “All right, then,” he said, and took the path on the right, strumming the guitar hanging from his neck. The dogs, trotting beside him, one on his right hand and one on his left, howled happily along.
In due time they came to an open cave, where there sat a bearded man with bare feet, playing a bass guitar. The young man began to play along, and the bearded man looked up in surprise and pleasure. They played, the one answering the other, until the song was done, and then they smiled at one another.
“That is beautiful music you are playing,” the young man said. “Will you come and make music with me?”
“I would come,” the bearded man said, “but in these caves I have lost the men who play with me. Together we could make the most beautiful music of all.”
“I think I can find them,” the young man assured him. “If you will only walk with me a little ways.”
“Gladly,” the bearded man replied, and together they set off, the bearded man playing his bass, and the young man strumming the guitar hanging from his neck. The dogs, trotting beside him, one on his right hand and one on his left, howled happily along.
They came to the place where the cave parted ways, one path to the right, one path to the left, and one path that went straight ahead, and they stopped. The man in the hat rose and embraced the bearded man, and together they laughed and cried, for they had been lost and alone for many days.
“Do you wait here,” the young man told them, “and when I have found the last of those who will play with us, we will return to you.”
“All right,” they said, and sat down to wait.
Now there was music of only one kind washing through the cave, the beat-beat-beat of a drum, and there was only one way left to go. The young man took the path straight ahead, strumming the guitar hanging from his neck. The dogs, trotting beside him, one on his right hand and one on his left, howled happily along.
In due time they came to an open cave, where there sat a strong man with a wide smile, playing a beat-beat-beat on a drum. The young man began to play along, and the strong man looked up in surprise and pleasure. They played, the one answering the other, until the song was done, and then they smiled at one another.
“That is beautiful music you are playing,” the young man said. “Will you come and make music with me?”
“I would come,” the strong man said, “but in these caves I have lost the men who play with me. Together we could make the most beautiful music of all.”
“I think I can find them,” the young man assured him. “If you will only walk with me a little ways.”
“Gladly,” the strong man replied, and together they set off, the strong man beating his drum, and the young man strumming the guitar hanging from his neck. The dogs, trotting beside him, one on his right hand and one on his left, howled happily along.
They came to the place where the cave parted ways, one path to the right, one path to the left, and one path that went straight ahead, and they stopped. The man in the hat and the bearded man rose and embraced the strong man, and together they laughed and cried, for they had been lost and alone for many days.
“Come with me,” the young man said, “and we will play the most beautiful music of all.”
“Gladly,” they replied, and all walked out of the cave together, the young man strumming the guitar hanging from his neck, the man in the hat plucking at his strings, the bearded man playing his bass, and the strong man beating his drum. The dogs, trotting beside them, one on their right hand and one on their left, howled happily along.
The young man led them through the woods, and over the fields, and right into his parents’ house, where they still play, the young man strumming the guitar hanging from his neck, the man in the hat plucking at his strings, the bearded man playing his bass, and the strong man beating his drum. They make the most beautiful music of all.
The two dogs, who long ago returned to their master, hear the music wherever they are, and still they howl happily along.
Author:
elucrehWordcount: ~1600
Rated: G
Ship: Gen
Summary: The music could never be truly beautiful, he felt, unless there were others there to share it with.
A/N: So my folklore professor asked us to write an original folk tale, and I grabbed a pencil, and the first line I thought of to write was, Once, not long ago, there was a young man, short of stature but kind of heart, who wanted more than anything else in the world to make beautiful music. It's possible I should be under some kind of medical supervision. Please be warned, this is a story written according to very strict rules about "what is a folktale", so it is not at all like most fic.
Further A/N: Obviously written with a pre-split worldview
Once, not long ago, there was a young man, short of stature but kind of heart, who wanted more than anything else in the world to make beautiful music. He was of a loving family, but not one that had ever understood him, and it was lonely to sing alone, or to drum on the table, or to run his fingers over the piano keys where the notes rang out too-loud and were lost to the stillness of an empty room. The music could never be truly beautiful, he felt, unless there were others there to share it with.
One day one of his friends, knowing of his loneliness and his joy in music, came to him in great excitement. “As I was walking through the woods,” he said, “I heard a beautiful song coming from a cave. I came to tell you; perhaps there is someone there who can help you to make music.”
“Where?” The young man snatched up his hat and his guitar, ready to set off at once. “Can you take me there?”
“I cannot come with you,” his friend said, “for I have business of my own to attend to, but I will leave you my dogs to guide you. They heard the music, too, and they have very good ears. They will find the musicians for you.”
The young man thanked his friend, kissed his mother and father, and set off into the wood, strumming the guitar hanging from his neck and sometimes singing a few words. The dogs, trotting beside him, one on his right hand and one on his left, howled happily along.
Deeper and deeper into the woods they went, the young man and the dogs, until they came to the mouth of a cave set deep into a mountain. From the inner depths of the cave they could hear music echoing around the walls, distorted by the distance, but still beautiful. “Oh,” breathed the young man, happily, and walked right in, strumming the guitar hanging from his neck. The dogs, trotting beside him, one on his right hand and one on his left, howled happily along.
They came to a place where the cave parted ways, one path to the right, one path to the left, and one path that went straight ahead. From this point it was clear that there was music of more than one kind washing through the cave, the melancholy strings of a guitar, the steady thrum of a bass, and the beat-beat-beat of a drum, but it was impossible to tell where the sounds were coming from.
“Which way shall we go?” the young man wondered, and the dog on his left hand barked in reply. “All right, then,” he said, and took the path on the left, strumming the guitar hanging from his neck. The dogs, trotting beside him, one on his right hand and one on his left, howled happily along.
In due time they came to an open cave, where there sat a fragile man in hat and waistcoat who was plucking a melancholy tune. The young man began to play along, and the man in the hat looked up in surprise and pleasure. They played, the one answering the other, until the song was done, and then they smiled at one another.
“That is beautiful music you are playing,” the young man said. “Will you come and make music with me?”
“I would come,” the man in the hat said, “but in these caves I have lost the men who play with me. Together we could make the most beautiful music of all.”
“I think I can find them,” the young man assured him. “If you will only walk with me a little ways.”
“Gladly,” the man in the hat replied, and together they set off, the man in the hat plucking at his strings, and the young man strumming the guitar hanging from his neck. The dogs, trotting beside him, one on his right hand and one on his left, howled happily along.
They came to the place where the cave parted ways, one path to the right, one path to the left, and one path that went straight ahead, and they stopped. “Do you wait here,” the young man told the man in the hat, “and when I have found those who will play with us, we will return to you.”
“All right,” said the man in the hat, and sat down to wait.
Now there was music of two kinds washing through the cave, the steady thrum of a bass and the beat-beat-beat of a drum, but it was impossible to tell where the sounds were coming from.
“Which way shall we go?” the young man wondered, and the dog on his right hand barked in reply. “All right, then,” he said, and took the path on the right, strumming the guitar hanging from his neck. The dogs, trotting beside him, one on his right hand and one on his left, howled happily along.
In due time they came to an open cave, where there sat a bearded man with bare feet, playing a bass guitar. The young man began to play along, and the bearded man looked up in surprise and pleasure. They played, the one answering the other, until the song was done, and then they smiled at one another.
“That is beautiful music you are playing,” the young man said. “Will you come and make music with me?”
“I would come,” the bearded man said, “but in these caves I have lost the men who play with me. Together we could make the most beautiful music of all.”
“I think I can find them,” the young man assured him. “If you will only walk with me a little ways.”
“Gladly,” the bearded man replied, and together they set off, the bearded man playing his bass, and the young man strumming the guitar hanging from his neck. The dogs, trotting beside him, one on his right hand and one on his left, howled happily along.
They came to the place where the cave parted ways, one path to the right, one path to the left, and one path that went straight ahead, and they stopped. The man in the hat rose and embraced the bearded man, and together they laughed and cried, for they had been lost and alone for many days.
“Do you wait here,” the young man told them, “and when I have found the last of those who will play with us, we will return to you.”
“All right,” they said, and sat down to wait.
Now there was music of only one kind washing through the cave, the beat-beat-beat of a drum, and there was only one way left to go. The young man took the path straight ahead, strumming the guitar hanging from his neck. The dogs, trotting beside him, one on his right hand and one on his left, howled happily along.
In due time they came to an open cave, where there sat a strong man with a wide smile, playing a beat-beat-beat on a drum. The young man began to play along, and the strong man looked up in surprise and pleasure. They played, the one answering the other, until the song was done, and then they smiled at one another.
“That is beautiful music you are playing,” the young man said. “Will you come and make music with me?”
“I would come,” the strong man said, “but in these caves I have lost the men who play with me. Together we could make the most beautiful music of all.”
“I think I can find them,” the young man assured him. “If you will only walk with me a little ways.”
“Gladly,” the strong man replied, and together they set off, the strong man beating his drum, and the young man strumming the guitar hanging from his neck. The dogs, trotting beside him, one on his right hand and one on his left, howled happily along.
They came to the place where the cave parted ways, one path to the right, one path to the left, and one path that went straight ahead, and they stopped. The man in the hat and the bearded man rose and embraced the strong man, and together they laughed and cried, for they had been lost and alone for many days.
“Come with me,” the young man said, “and we will play the most beautiful music of all.”
“Gladly,” they replied, and all walked out of the cave together, the young man strumming the guitar hanging from his neck, the man in the hat plucking at his strings, the bearded man playing his bass, and the strong man beating his drum. The dogs, trotting beside them, one on their right hand and one on their left, howled happily along.
The young man led them through the woods, and over the fields, and right into his parents’ house, where they still play, the young man strumming the guitar hanging from his neck, the man in the hat plucking at his strings, the bearded man playing his bass, and the strong man beating his drum. They make the most beautiful music of all.
The two dogs, who long ago returned to their master, hear the music wherever they are, and still they howl happily along.