|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 5:00 pm
Martin d'Hiver stepped out into the snowy fields of this new world he'd been brought to, from whose villages he'd strayed rather quickly. His coally hooves crunched in the cool substance he'd grown up calling neige, his breath misting into fantastical shapes in the frigid air. He tossed his head, looking around.
Well, it was official. He'd thought the villages were bad, with ramshackle churches much more austere than his native France, but out here was worse. Sure, he didn't follow the pale two-leggers' business about religion and gods, but he did like a proper church, and there didn't seem to be any here. He wasn't in civilized France anymore, he was in the rugged and wild New World. Time to reforge his life, starting with this winter.
Martin sighed and picked up his pace to a steady trot over the snows, picking up his hooves with the care of one who'd lived his whole life in an area that knew a great deal of snow every winter and decided to sing a song he'd heard the local folk singing recently. Thank any powers that might be for being bilingual.
Good King Wenceslas looked out on the feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even.
Brightly shone the moon that night, though the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight, gath'ring winter fuel.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 5:22 pm
 Baileys huffed as she stormed away from her teepee. Stupid herdmates, stupid two-legger. They never had time to give her any attention. They were always too busy with themselves and their own lives. What about her?! She deserved some attention too! It was sickening really, but.... The brown mare sighed and admitted to herself that she wished she had someone she could be that ridiculous about.
As she wandered along, there was a faint sound ahead. Her ears pricked forward. What was that? She strained and as she got closer realized it was the faint sound of singing. A male singing. Hmmm....curious. She made her way closer until the sound became stronger and clearer. The voice was strong and beautiful. Stopping a good distance away, she took notice of the gray stallion singing. She was amazed that a stallion could have such a wonderful voice.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 6:54 pm
Martin didn't really realize that he had a good voice. He'd been singing since foalhood, since there was always singing in the church and he'd lived very near to a grand cathedral until coming to the New World.
Hither, page, come stand by me, if thou knowst it, telling:
Yonder peasant, who is he, where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain,
Right against the forest fence, by Saint Agnes' fountain.
He became aware that he had an audience in the form of a warm brown mare with silky feathers and a few leaves tucked behind an ear the hue of the foam on English ale. She was definitely the attractive sort, but Martin was the sort to think that about everyone. He wasn't that picky as stallions went, delightful and frustrating as that sort of attitude was.
"Bon soir, Mamzelle," he said politely in his native French. "Eet eez a pleasant evening, non?" he asked in his accented English.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jan 02, 2011 11:03 am
It took a moment for the brown mare to figure out what the stallion had said to her. Well....at least the last part. The first was in some other language (so she assumed) which she didn't understand. Her head tilted slightly to the left as she thought over her reply.
"Aye, I s'ppose tis at that. Could be better, could be worse." She flicked an ear back a bit, her right forehoof pawing at the ground for a little roughage to nibble on. She found a few sparse blades of grass and nibbled delicately at the winter treat.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jan 02, 2011 11:31 am
Martin watched the mare graze and gave a little shrug. Maybe she wasn't interested in him and was more interested in his song. So she wasn't a total loss. Since she seemed to have been drawn by his song, he finished the song.
Bring me flesh and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither.
Thou and I shalt see him dine when we bear them thither.
Page and monarch, forth they went, forth they went together,
Through the rude wind's wild lament, and the bitter weather.
Sire, the night is darker now, and the wind blow's stronger.
Fails my heart, I know not how, I can go no longer.
Mark my footsteps, my good page, tread thou in them boldly;
Thou shalt find the winter's rage freeze thy blood less coldly.
In his master's steps he trod, where the snow lay dinted:
Heat was in the very sod, which the saint had printed.
Therefore, Christian men be sure, wealth or rank possessing:
Ye who now will bless the poor shall yourselves find blessing.
Ending the song, he looked up at his audience, half expecting her to compliment him and maybe even gush over his performance, like some of the country mares had done back in France, but since this wasn't France and there was barely even a proper church with its own choir, he didn't expect that much.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jan 06, 2011 11:15 am
The brown mare didn't say a word. She continued quietly grazing. He had a nice voice this was true enough, but she wasn't one to give random compliments, especially to those she didn't know or think deserved them. She made it a point to deliberately ignore him. Why should she approach him. She was the one to be chased, not the one to chase. Let him make some sort of effort.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jan 06, 2011 5:13 pm
Unfortunately for the earth-hued mare, Martin wasn't the type to chase, either. He was more likely to expect mares to throw themselves at him as they had done back in France.
She still hadn't said anything about his singing, so in some slight disappointment that this mare didn't seem to be as sophisticated as he'd originally thought, he sighed and moved off to a quieter place to sing in some privacy. This time, he deliberately chose a romantic song he'd heard in passing back home.
Deux anges qui se decouvrent
n'ont rien a expliquer.
Deux ames qui se retrouvent
ont tout dit sans parler.
J'ai souvent revee dans les bras d'Marius d'etre a sa place,
devant ce bonheur d'un autre monde,
la jalousie s'efface.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jan 23, 2011 10:47 pm
Baileys snorted delicately. She was more than a little upset at the moment. He hadn't complimented her at all or even acted like he noticed her. She frowned. What should she do now? Continue to follow him? Maybe. If she persisted long enough perhaps he'd actually SAY something. Yes, that's what she'd do. Follow him, maybe he'd come to his senses and realize a beautiful mare was paying attention to him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jan 26, 2011 10:58 am
He turned to watch as his audience slowly trailed him. Grinning, he continued, holding still for a moment before boldly walking up to her.
Ils marchez sans savoir l'un vers l'autre
Comme la chance quand elle cherche l'hasard.
Deux enfants misent au monde l'un pars l'autre
Ou jouez l'heros d'une histoire.
Ils descendent des nuages, rayonnant de mysteres,
Pour faire un long voyage d'amour sur cette terre.
A peine se sont ils vus, qu'ils se sont reconnus,
Avant de se connaitre.
At this point he stood next to her and gave a quick and cheeky kiss right on the lips before strolling away, still singing.
Le bonheur leur va bien, l'un a l'autre,
Un aveugle en son coeur pourrait le voir.
Le bonheur se fait mal chez les autre
Quand on n'as pas de role dans l'histoire.
Mais dans une piece a deux, les autre n'en rien de replique,
Ils sont dans le publique.
Ils marchez sans savoir l'un vers l'autre,
Et la chance a trouvee l'hasard.
On ne peux plus les aimes l'un sans l'autre
Sans trahir le morale de l'histoire.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Mar 22, 2011 9:56 pm
Baileys almost fell over from shock. The nerve of that strange stallion! Kissing her like she were some common mare. Snorting she glared at him and said, "Look here sir! I don't know whom you think you are, but you just don't go around kissing strangers here. It's deadly dangerous to do so."
She huffed, out of breath and looking disheveled after her outburst. Well this wouldn't do at all. Baileys took a deep breath, turned, and made herself walk away. Never mind that the kiss was intriguing and so was the stallion! Better to act aloof and not like he had gotten to her.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Mar 22, 2011 10:25 pm
Zut. He was losing his audience, but the kiss seemed to have an effect. Grinning cheekily, he trailed after her as unobtrusively as possible.
"Oh, do you not like being keessed? Zat is very strange, Mamzelle, unless love eez eenvolved somewhere?" he said with a hint of suggestiveness. "Some mamzelles show zat zey like zee stallions by being angry wiz zem, non?"
Not expecting a response, he pondered a song to sing next.
The valley green was so serene,
In the middle ran a stream
So blue.
A maiden fair in despair
Once had met her true love there,
And she told him.
She would say:
"Promise me, when you sing,
Oh, white rose, you'll think of me.
All of your soul, never let go:
I will be your ghost of a rose."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
