//------------------------------// // Chapter three: a duel of words // Story: Brothers 'N Antlers // by Elkia Deerling //------------------------------// ‘I can’t believe that happened to you, Alces.’ I stood up and looked wide-eyed at my brother. ‘I mean, the fire, the fight, the giant-fiery-elk-things. It was a titan’s fight! Why did you never tell me about your ceremony?’ ‘Because it was confusing, that’s why,’ Alces grumbled. He turned his head away from me and towards the teapot. ‘More tea?’ ‘More tea,’ I said. ‘Writing a story is hard work, isn’t it?’ As I was busy heating the water, Alces, surprisingly enough, continued speaking. ‘I think your ceremony was also quite something. To be honest, I would never have thought that you can be so brave.’ ‘Wow, thanks,’ I said, and I don’t need to write here that I was highly ironic. ‘No I mean it, Elkia. Well done. Your display was not only very heroic, I think it is worthy of a warrior.’ The water cooked. I took the kettle and my tea box and put them down on the table. ‘It’s just a shame Mother didn’t name me “Ironhide,” “Antlercrusher,” or “Hero of the Wilds,” right?’ Alces took a sip. When he put his cup down, I saw he was smiling. But on second thought, that might also have been because of the tea. ‘Yes… mother…’ he said. I took my cup too. ‘Mother is prancing on the Eternal Plain, Alces. She is in a better world now, a world where there is harmony between predator and prey.’ But Alces didn’t seem to listen. ‘The naming ceremony… after everything that happened, it is the ultimate proof that Mother could really look into the future and see what would become of us.’ ‘I suppose you’re right.’ ‘Suppose? I am right. The power of the essence is strong, and Aeltha was the strongest. I mean, look at us. Here I am, Alces Roameling, the elk who roams, searching for his lost herd. Heh, I’d say you can write a nice story about that.’ I couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘you might be surprised what strange ideas can be turned into stories…’ I blushed as one particular story (you know which one I mean, my faithful followers), bubbled up into my mind. ‘It’s just strange she named you “Deerling.”’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ Alces looked me in the eyes. ‘I am the one who roams around looking for the herd, our herd, our family. And here you are, sitting here, writing stories and socializing with ponies…’ ‘Hey, there’s nothing wrong with ponies,’ I said, ‘they are very pleasant folk.’ ‘Whatever,’ Alces said. ‘But why do you not wish to travel with me to the Bugbear Territory and see if we can find our herd together? I ask you every single year, and every single year your answer is no.’ ‘Every year my answer is no, and every year my substantiation is the same.’ I cleared my throat. ‘We’re old, Alces. The friends we once had have probably already perished and are trotting on the Eternal Plain. You know how tough life in the Bugbear Territory can be. There will be no one who even remembers who we are.’ ‘Besides Moussa,’ Alces said, smiling as he spoke. He thought he had made a good point. ‘And besides that, don’t you think Moussa, with his power of dark essence, could have made every single elk, deer, and reindeer immortal?’ I frowned, not sure what to think of that. ‘Perhaps… perhaps not… But then again, do you truly want to see Moussa again, Alces? He wasn’t the most pleasant leader to be around, in my opinion.’ Alces flinched as if he were in pain. ‘But still…’ ‘No, Alces, my answer is still no. Our mother is gone, our father is gone, there is no one whom I expect to meet in the herd—if it still exists. I will hope together with you that the herd still exists, but I’m not going to chase ghosts with you. Finding the herd will not bring back the good times. You said it yourself, the herd doesn’t want to be found.’ ‘But I am the one who wants to find them,’ Alces said. ‘Just imagine, brother, we can cover so much more ground if we work together, and—' ‘I’m really sorry, Alces, but I am staying right here, where I can write my stories, help others, and live a useful and worthwhile life.’ ‘Writing?’ Alces said. ‘Writing,’ I said. Alces sighed. ‘Very well.’ There was a pause. Each of us took that pause to drink up the remaining tea, which had gone cold. I am very certain that both of us, at that moment, thought of home. Alces no doubt thought about the reunion he was searching for, for so many years, and I was thinking about the days gone by, about the ceremonies, the friends I had, and Aeltha. Aeltha was always there for me. I knew that. She had said it herself. ‘I will see them again on the Eternal Plain,’ I said to Alces, ‘and so will you.’ ‘Not good enough for me,’ Alces said. ‘I know.’ Once again none of us spoke. I took the opportunity to make some more tea, when I realized that that might not even be necessary, for I knew how my brother was. ‘Oh, Alces, I presume you will leave again as soon as you can?’ ‘Not this time, brother.’ I jolted, and bumped my head against the mantelpiece. I turned around and looked at him. ‘What did you say?’ ‘I said I’m staying for a while, if you don’t mind.’ Returning with more tea, I said, ‘Of course not. I always like visitors, even when they are my brother.’ ‘Haha, very funny.’ Alces gave me a stomp which was probably meant to be teasing. It was more painful, to be honest. ‘I am serious. I will stay. I mean, we still have a masterpiece to write, and if you’re going to write about you and I, I want to be with you when you do that.’ A smile played on my lips. ‘So you want to help me create the story?’ ‘Sure.’ I clopped my hooves together. ‘That’s wonderful! Come, we’ll continue right away.’ And with that, I sat down behind my typewriter. Alces joined me. He grabbed a piece of paper from the pile which was going to be our story. Narrowing his eyes, he got a good look at it, letting his eyes bounce over the horseshoes and the stars. He blinked a few times, and then shook his head. ‘How did you even write all of this?’ he asked. ‘Is it some kind of other language?’ I smiled, took the paper, and held it out before us. ‘It is no Elkish, of course, because ponies can’t read that.’ Then Alces looked at my typewriter, and even went as far as sniffing at it. I grinned as he regarded the machine, which might as well have come from outer space. ‘How can you write a whole story if you only have three buttons?’ he said. Indeed, there were three buttons on my typewriter. One on which was printed a horseshoe, the other a star, and the third one was a space bar. I began to explain. ‘Our hooves aren’t that accurate, as you know. But even the clumsiest hooves are able to press down the three large buttons. To answer your question, I’m writing in horse code.’ ‘Horse code?’ ‘Yes, horse code. Every combination of horseshoes and stars represents a different letter, and I use the space bar to separate those combinations.’ Alces nodded. ‘Ah, I see.’ He bent over and started randomly pressing some buttons. ‘So if I want to put something on paper I just—‘ ‘No! Stop!’ I grabbed his hooves and flung them off the typewriter. Snorting, Alces said, ‘What? What’s wrong?’ I facehoofed and let out a sigh. ‘Once you write something in ink, it is impossible to remove. Every typo is permanent. And that was the last page of our story! Now I have to redo it.’ ‘Sorry,’ Alces said with a frown. I began to rewrite the last page. My brother watched in fascination as I pressed the buttons and wrote the last part in horse code faster than the eye could follow. I got the typewriter from a pony named Doctor Whooves, who had invented it for me to be able to write much faster than with my mouth. I had given him some instructions to model the typewriter after the one I used in Scribblers’ City. The metallic sound of clicking buttons and the occasional PING! When I reached the end of the line filled up my little cottage. It is a good thing I can write while I listen, because Alces wanted to take the word again. ‘So, what happens next?’ I talked back while I typed. ‘Well, let’s see what we have. We have a prologue, which is usually a bit relaxed and informative, but shouldn’t be boring. Then we have the two different naming ceremonies, which are quite suspenseful and full of action. So now we need something laid-back again, like a dialogue. It will be a tiny break in the story, and it might also be used to reveal some backstory of the characters.’ ‘You and I.’ ‘Exactly.’ ‘So, how do we do that?’ Alces asked. ‘Well, we could perhaps write a dialogue like this one we’ve just had. And if we still want to spice things up, we can have an argument or a difference of opinion or two.’ ‘I like it,’ Alces said. ‘But when are we going to write about the Scribblers and the attack?’ I stopped typing. The cabin returned to silence, an uneasy, sudden silence. I turned around and looked at my brother. ‘Alces, I have told you before that I will not write about such terrible things. They are personal, and the reader will probably have no interests in such dark happenings.’ Alces furrowed his brows. ‘But you can’t deny those things, Elkia. Those things shaped us. It is the truth and it must be told.’ Now I furrowed my brows too. ‘But the truth isn’t always nice.’ ‘So you want to lie?’ Alces said. I could see fire in his eyes. ‘Not necessarily.’ ‘Leave it out then?’ ‘Probably.’ ‘Then this is all pointless, and I might as well go,’ Alces said, flinging his hooves in the air. ‘What? No! Why?’ He actually stood up and turned around, knocking over a pile of books. He was searching for his knapsack. ‘I thought the point of writing a memoir is to remember things, also bad things.’ ‘But I hate the bad things,’ I said. My voice had gained a strange volume, something I wasn’t used to. ‘Yes, but you can’t run away from everything and hide in your cozy little cabin in the woods!’ Alces yelled. The whole cabin shook with the sound of his voice. ‘This stuff all happened, and whether the reader wants it or not, it must be told. Everyone has a legacy, and so do we. And if the reader didn’t expect the bad things that he reads about, then it is either part of your “suspense,” a “plot twist,” or the reader has to find another book. YOU WILL WRITE THIS!’ I didn’t want him to go, but I also didn’t want to argue any longer. It’s always nice to have some company, and it’s always fun to be creating things together. Not only that, but Alces was also a source of inspiration. He knew things I didn’t know, and together we were the third-person omniscient perspective. If he would go, I had to completely change the perspective of the story, because I wouldn’t have all the knowledge he had stored in his head. In a sense, this memoir was as much a product of my memories as a product of his. ‘No, wait,’ I said. Alces stopped collecting his stuff. With eyes full of fury, he looked at me. ‘What?’ I swallowed something away. Did the tea leave a strange aftertaste? My shoulders slumped down and I sighed loudly. ‘Alright, Alces. I will perhaps give teeny, tiny clues about what happened.’ ‘No, you will write it loudly and clearly.’ ‘You can’t write loudly—’ ‘I don’t care.’ I sighed again. ‘Alright, I will mention it in a footnote at the bottom of the—’ Alces stabbed a hoof at me. ‘You will either write it all down, or you will teach me horse code and typing and I will write it down myself.’ I wasn’t sure he was being funny or earnest. I managed a nervous smile. ‘Alces, that will take years.’ ‘Then there is only one option remaining, isn’t there, Deerling?’ I had no choice, and I realized that. I was this close to abandoning the whole memoir idea and go write something different, something more cheerful and maybe even something a bit weird. But I didn’t, because I had a strange feeling. It was the feeling as if a part inside of me clicked together with another one. Maybe those stern and loud words were needed to help me see. Maybe my brother was right. Maybe I should write about the nasty things too, so that the reader will get a better picture of how we are. Just our youthful years weren’t enough. The job of a writer is to tell the truth, and a writer should never lie to his reader. Yet, is keeping information hidden also considered lying? Well, if you put it that way… ‘Alright.’ Alces turned his ears in my direction. After his shouts, my voice was like a zephyr breeze. ‘What did you say?’ I stepped towards Alces. He crouched as if I were going to attack him. Instead, I flung a foreleg over his shoulder, and smiled. ‘I said that it’s alright, my dear brother. We will write about everything that happened, together.’ I felt his tensed shoulders relax. I could tell he hadn’t expected me to change my mind. ‘So you’re going to write the whole story down, for everyone to read, yes?’ My third sigh was the loudest. ‘Yes, I will. As I told you, every letter I type is permanently captured on the page. Whoever gets hold of the manuscript will know exactly who we are and what happened to us.’ With a twirl probably part of a dueling maneuver, Alces flung away my hoof. He grinned. Alces always loved to win, and now he had won this battle of words—from a writer! Now that’s saying something. ‘Very well, brother. We will create this story together.’ I smiled and gestured to my writing table. ‘Shall we?’ Throwing away his pack (once again on top of a pile of literary classics), Alces joined me behind the typewriter. I searched for his eyes. ‘I will write about our dire adventures on one condition.’ ‘And that is?’ I was already busy typing. ‘First some more happy stuff!’