The Brothers Grimm and Andersen

by Cursory Note

Now it's The Steadfast Tin Soldier

~Welcome once again, colts and fillies. Tonight we all have the great pleasure of listening to one of my original tales of love and adventure. This story will take your heart and fill it with such wonder that it may burst.~

*And then somepony dies.*

~What are you talking about?~

*I haven’t read a single one of your stories that doesn’t end in death.*

<Nor have I.>

~Oh will you two be quiet? Death is only one facet of my stories, and even then I use it sparingly.~

<Yes of course, “sparingly”. Wilhelm, I’ll bet you five bits that somepony dies at the end.>

~What?!~

*You’re on. In fact, I will do you one better: Ten bits says two or more characters die.*

<Deal.>

~Are you seriously betting on the outcome of my story?! This is insane!~

*And an easy way to make ten bits.*

<You want in, Hans? No, that wouldn’t be fair, he wrote it himself.>

*Very true.*

~I can’t believe you two! You are seriously betting money on this?~

<Oh, I’m very serious about this.>

*As am I. But please don’t let our little wager stop you from telling the story.*

<Of course not. The faster you tell it, the faster I get paid.>

*You get paid? Oh we’ll see about that, brother dear.*

~I…I am completely flabbergasted.~

<Well, perhaps a nice story will help soothe your nerves.>

*Indeed. I, for one, am looking forward to it a great deal.*

~Of course you are.~

<Come on, you already started. Let’s just get this over with, please?>

~Fine. As I was saying, this story is about the trials of Love and the great lengths a stallion will go through to find his own True Love.~

---

There were once twenty-five tin soldiers, all brothers, for they all came from one old tin spoon.

“Shoulder arms! Eyes front!”-that’s how they were, and they wore splendid red tunics with blue trousers. The very first thing they ever heard, when the lid was taken off the box in which they were lying, was-

“Tin soldiers!” It was a little colt who had shouted this and clapped his hooves. He had been given them for his birthday, and now he was putting them up on the table.

Each soldier was the image of the other, except for one who was a little bit different. He had only three legs, because he was the last to be made and there wasn’t enough tin to go round. Still, there he stood, as firmly on his three legs as the others on their four; and, as it happened, he’s the soldier this story is all about.

There were a lot of other toys on the table where the tin soldiers had been put up, but the one you noticed first was a beautiful paper castle; through its tiny windows you could see right into the rooms. In front of it were some small trees standing round a little mirror, which was supposed to represent a lake, with wax swans reflected in it as they swam. Everything was very pretty, and yet the prettiest of all was a little mare who was standing at the open door of the castle. She, too, was cut out of paper, but she was wearing a skirt of the clearest muslin and a narrow blue ribbon draped over her shoulder like a scarf, with a glittering sequin in the middle as big as the whole of her face. The little mare was holding out one of her forelegs; you see, she was a dancer and, besides, she had kicked one of her back legs so high in the air that the tin soldier couldn’t make out where it was and imagined she only had three legs, like himself.

“That’s the wife for me!” he thought to himself. “But she’s so grand; she lives in a castle. I’ve only got a box, and there are twenty-five of us to that; it’s no place for her. All the same, I must see if I can’t get to know her.” Then he lay down at full length behind a snuff-box that was on the table. From here he could keep his eyes on the elegant little mare, who continued to stand on two legs without losing her balance.

Later in the evening, all the other tin soldiers went back into their box, and the people in the house went to bed. The toys now began to play games – visiting, fighting, dancing. The tin soldiers rattled in their box, because they wanted to join in, but they couldn’t get the lid off. The nutcrackers turned somersaults, and the chalk had some fun on the chalkboard. There was such a noise that the canary woke up and began to join in with some twittering in verse. The only two who didn’t budge were the tin soldier and the little dancer. She stood perfectly upright on the tip of her hooves with her foreleg stretched out, while he was just as staunch on his three legs; his eyes never left her for a moment.

Suddenly the clock struck twelve and – clack! Flew the lid from the snuff-box, but do you suppose there was snuff in it? No, there was a little black goblin – It was a kind of Jack-in-the-box.

“Tin soldier!” cried the goblin. “Will you please keep your eyes to yourself!” But the tin soldier pretended not to hear.

“All right – you wait till tomorrow!” said the goblin.

And when tomorrow came and the children got up, the tin soldier was put away by the window; and, whether it was the goblin or the draught that did it, all at once the window flew open and the soldier fell out head first from the third story. It was a terrible fall. There were his legs going straight up in the air, and he was left standing on his helmet with his sword stuck in between the paving-stones.

The maidservant and the little colt came down directly to look for him; but although they very nearly trod on him, they never saw him. If only the tin soldier had called out “Here I am!” they would have found him easily enough; but he didn’t think it would be right to shout out, as he was in uniform.

Presently it began raining, more and more heavily, until it was a regular downpour. When it was over, two street-colts came by.

“Gosh, look at that!” said one of them. “There’s a tin soldier. Let’s send him for a sail.” So they made a boat out of newspaper, put the tin soldier aboard, and away he sailed down the gutter with the two colts running alongside and clapping their hooves. Bless my soul, how the waves did rock in the gutter, and what a strong current there was! Well, after all, it had been a real soaker. The paper boat bobbed up and down, and now and then it whirled round so fast that the tin soldier became quite dizzy. But he kept steadfast and never moved a muscle; he looked straight ahead, and still shouldered arms.

All at once the boat drifted in under a broad culvert; it was as dark as if he were in his box.

“I wonder where I’m coming to now,” he thought. “I’ll swear it’s all the fault of that goblin. If only the little mare were here in the boat, it could be twice as dark for all I’d care!”

Just then a great water-rat appeared, who lived under the culvert. “Where’s your passport?” asked the rat. “Now then, show me your passport!”

But the tin soldier never said a word and clutched his sword more tightly than ever. The boat rushed on, and the rat after it. Ugh! How it ground its teeth and shouted to sticks and straws: “Stop him! Stop him! He hasn’t paid the toll! He hasn’t shown his passport.”

But the current grew stronger and stronger; the tin soldier could already see daylight ahead where the culvert ended. But he could also hear a roaring sound that might well bring dismay to the bravest stallion. Just think of it – where the culvert ended, the gutter plunged straight out into a large canal. It was as dangerous for him as it would be for us to sail down a big waterfall.

By now he had come so near that there was no stopping. The boat dashed out, the poor tin soldier held himself as stiffly as he could; no one should say that he had moved an eyelid. The boat spun round three or four times and filled right up with water, until it was bound to sink. The tin soldier was now up to his neck; the boat sank deeper and deeper; the paper grew more and more sodden. At last the water closed over the soldier’s head…He thought of the pretty little dancer whom he would never see again, and the old song rang in his ears:

“On, on, brave warrior!

On where death awaits thee!”

At this moment, the paper went to pieces, and the tin soldier fell right through - but was instantly swallowed by a large fish. Oh, and how dark it was inside! Even worse than it was in the culvert, and so terribly cramped, too. But the tin soldier was still steadfast, still shouldering arms, as he lay at full length.

The fish darted about, making the most terrifying twists and turns. Then at last it lay quite still; a lightning flash went through it, there was broad daylight, and someone called out: “A tin soldier!” The fish had been caught, taken to the market and sold, and here it was in the kitchen, where the maid cut it open with a big knife. She picked up the soldier by the barrel with a hoof and carried him into the parlor, where everypony wanted to see this extraordinary stallion who had been travelling about inside a fish. But the tin soldier thought nothing of it. They set him up on the table, and there – well, what wonderful things can happen! The tin soldier found himself in the very same room as he had been in before. There they were – the same foals, the same toys on the table, the same beautiful castle with the pretty little dancer who still stood on two legs and kept the other ones high in the air – she, too, had been steadfast. This touched the tin soldier, who could have wept tears of tin, only that would hardly have done! He looked at her, and she looked at him, but neither of them spoke

Suddenly one of the small colts took and threw the soldier straight into the stove. He had no reason for doing this; of course, the Jack-in-the-box was behind it all.

The tin soldier stood in a complete glow; the hear that he felt was tremendous, but whether it came from the actual fire or from love, he had no idea. All his bright colors were gone, but nopony could tell if this had happened on his voyage or was the result of grief. He looked at the little mare, she looked at him, and he could feel that he was melting, but he still stood staunchly with arms at the shoulder. Then a door opened, the draught caught the dancer, and she flew like a pixie right into the stove to the tin soldier, flared up in a flame and was gone. The tin soldier was melted down to a lump and, when the maid cleared out the ashes next morning, she found him in the shape of a little tin heart; but all that was left of the dancer was her sequin, and that was burnt black as coal.

---

~Thank you, my little ponies, and I hope you have pleasant dreams tonight.~

*Ten bits, Jacob.*

<But does that really count? The tin soldier still survived as a heart.>

*Yes. It counts. Time to pay up, brother of mine.*

<Oh…Fine. Here you are, ten bits.>

*Much obliged.*

~Are you two happy now?~

*Very much so, thank you.*

<Why couldn’t this be one of your lighter stories, Hans? Ten bits down the drain.>

~Well excuse me for not consulting your gambling habits beforehand.~

*Don’t be a poor sport, Jacob. Come on, I’ll buy you a mug of cider.*

<That sounds good, thank you Wilhelm.>

*Anytime. You want to come, Hans?*

~No, I think I’ll stay here and have some tea. It’s a bit chilly tonight, look, it’s starting to snow.~

<Bah, a little snow never hurt anypony.>

*He can stay here if he wants, come on Jacob.*

<Alright, we’ll be back later Hans.>

~Have fun.~

Comments

[catfire13]

10 bits for for dead characters plz

[Doubtful]

Oh yeah! Der Zinnsoldat!

Really, nice chapter Cursory

[Cursory Note]

4895298
I'm really sorry but Jack and the Beanstalk has to be taken off the list Unfortunately that is an English fairytale and would have no place in this collection. I hope you aren't too disappointed and enjoy the others I have planned.