From Finner

by The Wandering Bard

A Good Story

“Yeh know what makes a good story, Lyric?”

As Finner said this, Lyric’s ears pricked, and her eyes sparkled. She trotted over to his side. “Besides a captivating plot and interesting characters?”

“Yeah, 'sides all that.”

The two made their way down the main road of the town, which Lyric had since learned was named Bluff. Bluff itself was not much bigger than what Lyric had seen her first night there, and in the light of day, she noticed how all of the buildings had been weathered by the sea breeze, the brown wood of each having long since turned gray. Yet, each was still standing strong. Much like this town’s inhabitants, Lyric mused as she eyed Finner, who was waving to or hailing everypony they passed.

Although Lyric would normally have moved on to another place by now, Finner’s coughing fit had worried her. She’d insisted she stay a few more days to look after him, while Finner had insisted that he was fine. “But I won’t mind the company!” he’d said at the end of their conversation, and, as far as he seemed to be concerned, that was the end of that matter. Now, here in the center of town, Lyric waited for Finner’s answer, her curiosity piqued.

Finner returned his attention to Lyric. “What really makes a good story is a hook, timin’, an’ delivery. 'Specially when yeh’re tellin’ it teh an audience.”

Lyric faced the path ahead. Her muzzle furrowed in thought. “How do you mean?” she asked after some time had passed.

“Well, hm, how teh explain it…” Finner ran a hoof through his beard. When his eyes landed on the instrument Lyric carried on her back, he stamped his hoof into the dirt below. “A good story’s just like a good piece of music. Yeh gotteh have an openin’ that’ll catch everyone’s attention. That’s yehr hook.”

“Hmmm.” Lyric tapped her chin. “I suppose that makes sense.”

Finner nodded, then continued with, “An’ just like music, yeh gotta know what comes when. Otherwise, everythin’ll be all muddled and won’t make any sense. That’s yehr timin’.”

Lyric’s ears stood straight up at this. “And what about the delivery?”

“The delivery, well, that’s a beast all on its own.” He spun and pointed a hoof at Lyric. “But if yeh can master that, yeh’ll be set.” He lowered his hoof. “Just like with music, yeh gotta know how teh really sell the piece. Yeh gotta know when teh be quiet, an’ when teh be really loud!” He shouted this last part to the sky. A nearby flock of gulls shrieked and took off, while ponies turned to see where the commotion was coming from. Lyric smothered a laugh with her hoof. Finner, however, seemed not to notice the looks.

Now Finner continued on his way, with Lyric beside him. “Yeh also gotta keep pace,” he said, “not goin’ too fast or too slow, or else yeh’ll have a mess on yehr hooves.”

“Just like with music,” Lyric said as Finner opened his mouth to speak.

“Just like with music,” he repeated, satisfaction in his voice. “But there’s one more thing yeh gotta remember, an’ it’s probably the most important thing of all.” Lyric leaned in to hear what he had to say. “If yeh make a mistake, just keep on goin’. It’ll help yeh teh think on yehr hooves, an’ maybe yeh’ll find a way teh make the tale even better than it was before.”

At this final bit of advice, Lyric halted, shying away from the stallion. “But, Finner, I don’t know how...”

Yet Finner only gave Lyric a knowing look, replying with, “Don’t worry, yeh’re smart. I know yeh can figure it out.”

Lyric fell silent at Finner’s words. She had made many mistakes telling her tale a few nights ago, and, if she was to be honest with herself, they had gotten to her. After all, these weren’t the first mistakes she had made — and not just with storytelling — nor would they be the last. How was she to simply ignore them?

Lyric was still puzzling over this when they reached the town grocer, Finner’s destination on this trip. The door creaked, and the bell above it tinkled as the two entered. A pair of colts looked up from their mother’s side, their faces brightening as they spotted the stallion.

“Finner! Finner!” they cried as they raced towards him.

Finner’s face lit up as well, and he bent down to ruffle their manes. “'Ey, lads, good teh see yeh.”

They giggled and pulled back, the bigger of the two colts asking, “Finner, can you tell us a story?”

“Yeah, can you?” The smaller one gazed up at Finner, eager. Lyric almost mirrored him, looking on with interest.

“Well… I don’t know,” Finner replied, drawing out his words, giving an exaggerated shrug.

“Aw, but you tell the best stories,” the larger one said. “Please?”

“Please?” his brother joined, giving Finner a puppy-dog-eyed look.

“Please?”

“Please?”

“Please?”

“Please?”

“Pleeeaaase?”

After a time, Finner spoke up. “Alright, yeh’ve got me. What story would yeh like teh hear?” As the colts cheered, the stallion gave Lyric a wink, as if to say, “Watch an’ learn.”

“Tell us the one about how you got your cutie mark, Finner,” the smaller colt said. The larger one regarded Finner with excitement.

Finner eyed them both. “What, that ol’ tale? Yeh’ve heard it a thousand times.”

The colts’ words jumbled together as they pleaded for Finner to tell his story. Admittedly, Lyric herself was curious as to how Finner had received his mark. It was one of the most elaborate she had ever seen — a three-masted ship, sails and all, surrounded by dark storm clouds — and it was much more elaborate than her own simple lute.

Finner held his hooves outward to quiet the clamor. The colts fell silent, and Finner leaned in towards his audience of two. “When I was just a young’un, only a little older than yehrselves, I was a cabin colt on a ship, the Kraken.” The colts “ooohed.” “It was a mighty fine ship, one of the swiftest on the seas! It could sail 'round the entirety of Equestria an’ its surroundin’ countries in a month flat. But sometimes bein’ swift ain’t enough.”

Finner’s voice lowered as he told the colts, “One day, a storm blew up outta nowhere. Now, this weren’t unusual out at sea, but this one was particularly nasty. An’ as yeh know, there ain’t any pegasi out at sea teh quell these storms.”

“But you had pegasi with you, right?” the larger colt asked.

“Course we did!” Finner declared, putting a fore hoof to the colt’s back. “But when they flew out, the gale tossed 'em about 'til they were almost lost, givin’ 'em no choice but teh return teh the ship. But the ship weren’t much safer than the sky.” Finner swooped his free hoof in front of him, pantomiming the waters. “Waves a hundred hooves high crashed onteh the decks, an’ the winds were tearin’ at the sails, threatenin’ teh rend ‘em from the masts.” The volume of his words rose and fell like the waves he described. “It weren’t long before the Captain was overwhelmed.” The colts gasped, their hooves covering their mouths. “Nopony else could help either, 'cause they were doin’ their best teh hold the ship tehgether. They clung teh the ropes, worked the sails, but the storm was too much. Everypony was just about convinced that they’d be swept off the boat, an’ that it’d go down with ‘em.”

Here, Finner paused. Lyric was unsure of whether he would continue when he asked his audience, “But yeh know what?”

If the colts had heard the story even half as many times as Finner claimed they had, they definitely knew what came next. But Lyric saw that the colts said nothing, watching Finner with wide-eyed anticipation.

“I rushed over an’ grabbed the wheel, even though everypony’d told me teh stay below instead. They thought I was too small teh make any difference. But, with things as they were, we needed all hooves on deck, includin’ mine. So, with the Captain an’ I at the helm, we put all our might inteh steerin’ the Kraken.” Now Finner’s voice was triumphant. “With us at the helm an' everypony workin’ tehgether, we at last broke free of the storm’s mighty grasp.” A beam of sunlight fell across Finner’s face, and he seemed to bask in it. “It weren’t until after, when we were all cheerin’ and celebratin’, that I’d noticed my cutie mark’d appeared. From then on, I knew I was meant teh live a life on the sea. An’, for a long time, that’s just what I did.”

The colts applauded and, thanking Finner, returned to their mother’s side. Their mother also gave Finner a grateful wave. Returning it, Finner set to the task of picking out the supplies he’d need for the next few days.

Yet Lyric stood where she was, reflecting on Finner’s tale, or rather, on the way he had told it. By choosing certain moments to speak quietly or boldly, by pausing now and then to draw out suspense, and adding into that the timbre of his voice, the story had ebbed and flowed. Everything about it had been masterfully done, captivating the young colts, and herself as well. And, through it all, Lyric could not help but think, It really is quite like music.

Music was something that Lyric had always enjoyed, ever since she was a filly herself, and it was something that she knew well. Stories, however, were different… or so she had thought. As with music, Lyric had always been enthralled by the stories she’d heard, whether they were bedtime tales told to her by her parents, or grand epics shared by those who had come before her. But it was one thing for her to be able to enjoy a good story, and another entirely to know how to tell one. The corners of her lips upturned as she contemplated all the ways she could put this newfound knowledge to use.

“So, ready to go?” Finner asked, breaking into her thoughts.

Lyric turned to him. “I am,” she replied.

“Say, yeh look happy.” Finner smirked. “Did yeh really enjoy my tale that much?”

“Indeed I did.” Her voice lowered as she said, “Thank you, Finner.”

Finner tilted his head in confusion. “What’re yeh thankin’ me for?”

Instead of answering him, Lyric grinned and set off up the road towards the pier. Finner shrugged and walked with her.

The two travelled side by side, Finner humming a sea shanty as they went. But, as they neared the path that would lead them to the beach, Finner’s demeanor changed. His steps slowed, his ears downturned, and his humming faded away. This was not new to Lyric, for he had done it every time they’d passed by here. Today, however, he asked, “'Ey, Lyric, mind if we make another stop?”

Hearing his tone, Lyric’s voice was gentle as she replied, “No, not at all.”

Without another word, he made his way to a spot near the top of the path, one which overlooked the ocean. If she glanced downwards, Lyric could see the pier stretching into the water, and Finner’s houseboat bobbing in the waves. But it was the stone that the stallion was staring at which currently caught her interest.

It was gray, about the size of a curled up, sleeping cat, and did not appear to be extraordinary in any way. An oval-shaped seashell rested on top of it, pink and white and spotted with brown. Lyric had seen many of these shells by the water’s edge, all in varying sizes and differing patterns of white, pink, and brown. If she picked it up and turned it over, she knew that she would find a lip that covered about three-fourths of the underside, leaving a hole at one end. She wondered why it had been left here.

Nearing the stone, Lyric could see that its surface had been carved. Peering closer, she could make out two words at the top. Lady Slipper. She glimpsed Finner out of the corner of her eye. His eyes were sorrowed, his face pained. It took a while for Lyric to gather her courage to ask him, “Who was she?”

His voice was almost inaudible. “My wife.”

Lyric’s chest tightened. Finner sank to the ground. Lyric put her fore hoof around his shoulders, and he sagged into it. Neither of them spoke.

As they sat, the sun began to fall towards the horizon. Finner raised his eyes to it. “Say, Lyric…” He breathed in deep. “How would yeh like teh hear another story?”

Comments

[King of Madness]

Interesting. While I'm more into stories with comedy and a fast-pace (If you've seen my own stories, you could probably tell), this looks fascinating. Although, I'm wondering something: Is this taking place around the same time as the series? Or is it in the past? Or future? Maybe if I had read the stories before this one I would know...

By the way, Bard-sensei, why do I get the impression that Lyric is a clone of you?

[The Wandering Bard]

8112621
I'm glad that you find it interesting so far! I hope that you continue to do so.

I imagine this taking place a few years before Luna's return, when Lyric herself is a bit younger than I imagine her to be.

And you'd be surprised at how many people say that. But, no, Lyric is my OC, and so an entity completely separate from myself.

[King of Madness]

8112631 Ah, so Lyric is not the pony that was was supposed to write a song about my bravery but instead wrote a song about me being a joke! Come on, Bard-sensei! They were GIANT CENTIPEDES!

[EverfreePony]

This could easily serve as a tutorial for new writers and storytellers of all sorts. Good chapter, looking forward to the next!

[The Wandering Bard]

8114395
Indeed! Though I did also try to make it geared more towards Lyric herself.

And thank you! Hope you continue to enjoy!