The Deed of Mirth
──────THE DEED OF MIRTH──────
cross meand'ring streams and hillocks pass'd
Our lowborn knight and manner'd princess wise
Until so came they to the great world-sea
Which keeps abyssal secrecies within.
"I do yonder espy a settled port,"
Said knight, eyes slitted 'gainst the 'treating sun,
"And ships at call beyond the shanties planch'd.
An we hath luck, we'll hire one presently."
In myriad clear amber'd jewellery
Doth continental oceans keep the sun.
Cadenza, Love Herself, a moment kept
To 'hale the humid salted air a-waft.
"Confess Me now that I've 'held not the sea,"
Said She in foal-like innocence to him,
"Though all song-craft is birthèd from her shores
And oft I sing her lullabies to none."
A gladden'd smile did play upon his lips.
"Not few hath been the times she cradled me;
Give well-come words to her when then thou art met
That favour'd Love might fetch us foll'wing seas!"
The balm-swept port afar, named Anchormeet,
Tumescent was with rough and churlish ilk
On cloven hooves and pony-hooves alike.
Our trav'lers were stark contrast made to stand.
Plains buffalo and zebra, some adorned
With scar-tattoos across their weather’d hides
Made wary glance, as chance there was to meet
On knightly eyes who struck about him clear.
Cadenza, too, could feel unwelcome looks
Of merchant-goats with knurl'd and greasy beards
A-next to sullen prostitutes of sea,
They mares and stallions both, for sailors' lust.
So made She close to him and sidelong hushed:
"Not an thou quest’d for a score of lives
Couldst thou erase all wickedness from here,
Perception mine from this menag'rie be."
The knight could but give subtle nod to this.
"So 'tis, I say, and I with savvy some
To measure roughness in own roughness' den.
O princess, I lament thy witness here!"
A titter did escape the goddess' mouth.
"How noble thou art now! But fear thee not;
For I'm no pamper'd posey on lapel
To wilt and shrink at daylight's first true heat!"
The knight look'd west and there beheld the day
Last set to rest as eventide awoke.
The taverns' bells and bawdy-houses rang
For custom as the piers a-lit with lamps.
"And what of darkened coolness of the night?"
Ask'd he with sour smile and mischief glance.
"Fair Moon might blush at what transpireth where
Décorum never laid a polish'd hoof."
"Am I the Moon, or doth Mine aunt yet be?"
Said Princess Love as to an alley crept.
She smiled at him and with a gentle cast
Of orchid light assumed a merchant's guise.
"'Tis true enough, attention's not our wont,"
Came out a voice belonging to a mare
Of coarsely measure and a slight-lamed gait.
"An we seem rich, then richness they accost."
Into a tavern knight and merchant stepp'd;
They met at once with noisy carousement
And chaos such to flush mad gods with glee.
The fire-pit cast rows in ashen red.
The knight's two ears went flat-on 'gainst his head.
"Such foulness, yea, in conduct and in smell!
On floor might be more cider than in glass!
Be wisdom now to keep a manner here?"
Cadenza, still beguised, pass'd him a wink:
"Thou art o'ermuch a knight—let Me lead us."
With sudden, easy motion did She change
That royal smile into an oily sneer.
In midborn accent of her guise’s caste:
"Stay low that prideful count, O favour'd knight.
Play well thy part in muted complement
And take sole cue from how I ply this stage."
Ere more was said, She off and strode the lanes
Of eager and verbose debauchery.
The knight so tail'd, in care to step around
The drunken deckhoofs and the wanton curs.
No hesitance forshown Cadenza gave;
Anon She made the captain best to serve
Their need of sail-craft careful and discreet
And sat Her down across from same mare's board.
"To drink or business: that be for me time,"
Said straight the sail-mare to the goddess rused.
"An ye hast naught of either, then begone!
For pleasant conversation starves me purse."
The captain spake with accent of the sea,
The boist’rous, hardy, rolling tongue of waves
‘Hind which her merriment or scorchèd hate
Could easy be concealed to those unwise.
A pace behind the princess stood the knight,
Unknightly in his best efforts to seem.
The merchant-mare Cadenza had become
Put thrice a knock upon the splinter'd board.
"For both it, then, that goodwill doth take hold!
I, Poplar, and the sellsword at my back
Hath Cordial to be call'd, when call I must."
The captain look'd beyond to take the knight.
"He reek of errance, armour'd so befirm,
Yet, marry, bears no arm to test his met!
Ye hast him, then, for other duties close:
A sellsword with a better sword to sell!"
The captain flew a wink as rum was set
Before the mares by zebra serving-wench.
A lady never would give to such mirth
In braying vigour taken company.
"No less, a hedge-knight brought down from his grace
By his own tale, but comely croups as his
Are I say wasted on the battlefield!"
Another laugh at this, and then to quest.
"I have some need of sail, my steady salt.
Out to Ibexia I striketh would
Along with fetching stallion hither seen.
So an thou hast a fasting purse, accept."
The captain drain'd her rum and cannon wiped
Across her grinning snout ere she respond:
"No paltry take would passage gain, me lass!
A giving heart floats better, so I've found."
Cadenza bore a warm yet poisoned smile.
"To eightscore sov'reigns will I but agree.
'Tis surfeit for such vessels like to hove
Into a swill-steeped planch-port such as this."
The boist'd, ringing laughter of the mare
Reach'd out above the din of conduct rough.
"So have ye said, and I'll deny it not!
Yet comp’ny sought is comp’ny kept, me heart!“
On she lounged there whilst Cadenza drank,
And when She finish’d, captain spake again:
“At break of day will anchor kiss the wind,
The Wingless Heron be her given name."
The princess, as coarse Poplar, stood and bowed.
"So by your leave, O captain, we retire.
My solemn promise keeping dalliance soft—
Thou shalt not find it uttered here to-night!"
They moved to let a room from upstairs' inn
And, free of company, her guise dispelled.
The knight, his armour doff'd in hastèd pile,
Did sulken sit upon his mattress strawn.
The inn-room's walls were cleaned with laughter light
As Love beheld the knight's warm latent blush.
"Good humour, sir! We're on a task of Mirth,
And ladies of their means need retinue!"
"Methinks in excess didst thou take the play
To have masculine comfort hired on.
Enjoy'd it o'ermuch, from where I stood."
Not even for all will would his ears rise.
"But to assuage the get of poverty
Was the intent of what thou mark as farce,
So pray else mark it well-come compliment:
A stallion such as thee would princely cost!"
Cadenza, trotting to, did kiss the blush.
"Find ease, sir knight, find ease, I thee beseech!
In love thou art, yet Love foresees that She
Hath much to teach thee yet, ere quest be done."
"Mayhap the morrow finds a student here,"
Said knight through solemn'd gentle weary yawn.
"For this, to-night, I'll be the happy dunce."
He laid his head and gave him up to sleep.
The slumber of the knight dissolved to calls
Of morning gulls and gannets seeking scraps
Upon the moon-chill'd decks and piers without.
So roused, he made to rise and armour don.
Companion his, the princess, had spread out
The donkeys' gifts of vegetables plump.
He bowed to Her and wordless broke his fast
As She gazed on in fondness for his way.
"What look have I, to fetch such wiled regard?"
Said knight as saddlebags on back were set.
"I 'cuse Thee not of impropriety
Though worry for my self was all I kept."
She still spake naught, and knight was left
To battle a faint smile upon his snout.
It soon came full upon him, then a laugh,
At which the goddess last did rear and join.
With magical assumption of Her guise
Again in place, they struck from befouled inn
And made to foamy waters of the shore.
The Day was come, Her monde to warm their backs.
They wander’d piers and sought the ship
Call'd Wingless Heron, as it was so told.
Cadenza touched a wing to the knight's neck
As they slow closed upon a cog so named.
"Should quest be done and thou returnèd home
To thy wish’d maiden, then should court her well,
A husband thou be first, and then a knight.
I take My tribute due in measure great!"
"Henceforth Thy lessons now are to begin?"
Ask'd knight with deferent yet tarted tongue.
She only offered up a winsome smile
And stopped before the gangplank set aboard.
He 'held the ship and count'd it befit,
Though agèd was its sail and jagged sprit.
The captain disembarked and made such bow
To shame a caller at majestic courts.
"The Heron be well-met to have aboard
Her two earth-ponies strong and hardy-built.
And such our luck, no rain for first day’s sail!
The Sun, I reckon, call’d it off for ye!”
The two so made their greetings and embarked,
Then thereupon were met the Heron’s crew.
The captain made self first to introduce
After all others muster’d amidships.
“Sea Nettle be me name, an’ no mistake,
I captain this here heron of the seas.
The bison-bosun thar be me right hoof,
So named is Prairie Hawk, as he would tell.
Two zebra mares to hoist and rig the sails,
Kuvuta’s one, then Bana for t’other
(But so ye ken, I call ‘em Pull and Pinch).
And Tradewind last, our pegasus, who keeps
The crow’s nest and the watch of sky’s surround.”
They all bowed to, yet spake none in their turn.
In stead they set to duties casting off
And so put Wingless Heron out to sea,
Ibexia a-waiting two days thence.
Easy went the way through morning’s watch,
And levity served with the midday’s meal,
Though captain Nettle fierce designed to see
The measure of her custom-escort’s met.
As all doth know, the earth-ponies are those
Most given to the sail and sailors’ ways,
Yet even ‘mongst the ones who take to ship,
The knight was stoic steady; so she saw.
“Say lo here, Poplar, and attend me but
A moment’s time. I say I ne’er met a one so girt
And given up to trials as he seem!
What say ye, then, to friendly wager light?”
Cadenza, knowing well seafarers’ love
Of sporting oft in wealth and earnèd pride,
Did hearken up the captain’s bid for ears
And entertain what would be put to Her.
“Me bison-bosun, Hawk, be buffalo
In envy’d strength by all who stride the earth.
Upon the sea, mayhap, he’ll have a match!
Would ye put up yer stallion to a duel?”
The merchant-princess met it with an arch.
“What gains, prithee, do we each stand to take
In turn from such a contest? He’s Mine hire;
Thus, terms of harm be disagreeable.”
“A harm-less test of strength, ye have me word!
And as for terms, there too is plainly spake:
In victory, I’ll forgive half yer toll,
Defeat finds him in cabin mine each night.”
Cadenza reared and laughing shook her mane.
“How basely thou conducts! No pauper, I,
Who ill affordeth prices promised so!
Let him decide, and I’ll fain second be.”
Anon Sea Nettle put it to the knight
Who plain recoiled, but, to Love’s surprise,
Agreed to term and challenge readily.
A-gape, Cadenza could but witness play.
“O knight,” she low conferred with him a-side,
“It recks thee not to game with chastity?
This quest be not a test of cowardice;
The Harmony’s the thing—I pray thee neg!”
The knight met eyes with Prairie Hawk, and said
“I’ve wagered oft much worse in course of deed.
O Love, Thou might be goddess, but need tell
That 'tis through real risk that knights are made.
Immortal may Thou yet come prove to be,
But well 'tis thought to die as one might choose.
To what ideal might mortals last achieve?
It shan’t ‘come known without challenges met.”
“E’en challenge such as this?” she doubtful spake.
“There be no blood to spill or be spill’d here.”
Replied he quick with glad and ready heart:
“For knights, one’s life and pride are close as kin.”
Sea Nettle muster’d crew once more and cried
“Avast and hearken, lot, and witness bear
To show of might and competition great!
Our two staid war’iors here their thews will test!”
“'Tis simple,” captain spake, “at anchor drop
Me zebras will keep time with zebra-song
Whilst Tradewind counts the beats ere anchors-up.
The fellow with the fewest beats is won.”
The bosun, Prairie Hawk, was first to test.
Kuvuta first, then Bana took their drum
In keeping time as he set to the wheel
Alone in effort, silent in his work.
Ere long did anchor clat against the hull
And hoofbeats of the zebras came to cease.
“Oh ho! me hearty bosun, good account!”
Cried out the pony captain from her watch.
The knight was then put to the windlass spoke
Once anchor had again found ocean floor.
His muscles stood as cords and sinew'd strain
‘Neath leaded iron in the sea’s harsh pull.
Once done, the lookout Tradewind bow’d to him
And raised his wings in pegasi’s respect.
“Fivescore beats and nine was this one’s count,
Sufficient to best Hawk’s of sixscore-one.”
The princess, minding not her trepid sense,
Did laugh again and dance a-round the knight
Caught up in victorious revelry.
The knight’s manner maintained, for his part yet.
“A feat, i’faith, a feat of peerless might!
So fearsome must it be to see an edge
Borne as thou wouldst against a hapless foe!
Thou dost kin proud—so too, Equestria!”
The Heron’s captain stamped in grace applause.
“Though might it pain me so to slip me prize,
A word’s a word, and I’ll no villain be:
So fourscore sov’reigns now do sole ye owe.”
The ship hove on to deeper waters still.
Ere evening set, the knight attended Hawk.
“Thou hast great met to call an anchor so.
I hope there be no fashioned enmity.”
The buffalo slow shook his great horn'd head
And slower spoke odd accent of the plains:
“The great Coyote tricks, the Raven shifts,
Yet you blench not, are constant like the Earth.”
When last he made to take his rest, Love stopped
Him ‘midships, bringing him to northern rail.
“Thee hold, good knight! 'Tis now thy time to learn
Of what Mine aunts would have all ponies ken.”
“So loving I escaped, yet Love not so,”
Said he with faint amusement on his lips.
Cadenza, playful cuffing with a hoof,
Commenced her lesson there to him anon.
“Now look thou north, into the firmament:
Above us there be Love, Mine own retreat
That Luna, goddess Moon, did make for Me.
Thou seest it eventide, when lovers join
And morningtide again when they awake.
When I withdraw Me from the earth to ‘hold
All love within creation, there I go.
I read the hearts of all who breathe the air
And swim within the waters deep and dark.
Know well, mayhap, that Love be Harmony,
Yet Harmony less Mirth be broken Love.
In love there must be joy, O stalwart knight,
For temperance alone be passionless.
An one should holdeth fast to chivalry
As thou so dost, perceived so well by all,
They’ll keep no room for softness in their heart.
To battle makes one hard, e'en Love knows well,
And hardness be a rock not eas’ly split,
Yet shouldst thou find the favour of your mare,
Thy stolid heart, ere long, will turn her cold.”
A whinny there made utter from the knight,
His head to lower from the watching stars.
“In hardness won and softness kept is love;
Most those I know choose one to be of kind.”
The patient goddess laughed to light the stars.
“What jesting thoughts doth stallions entertain!
'Tis now a prize, one’s love, and not a gift?
Shouldst thou fail in this quest, thy love forfeits?”
“Doth wain-wright who breaks wagons earn her bread?
Doth scribe who cannot write belong at court?
In steel I trade, but counsel’d by Thine aunts
My sword’s put up, that Love may find me fair.”
Cadenza’s hoof lit ‘pon his pauldron worn.
“'Tis not for Me, nor yet for Them, that We
Would have thee court in true gentility.
But thou wish’d quest, so to a quest were put.”
“Forsooth, to give back Harmony so known.
The knight be not his sword—his deeds in stead.
I need no steel to work good ‘pon the land.
I’ll leave Thee now, Your Highness, to Thy sky.”
The knight stole down to berth and present slept.
His dreams were plagued by blackness creeping out
From clustered sockets deep within the world,
Appraising bitterness where it would pass.
His rest was broke by plea’d and weary’d words
Betwixt the scout Tradewind and Princess Love.
A hasted gird, then up from berth he came
To behold morning-sun from starboard rise.
“I say thee neigh, sore given, we can not
The Doldrums sail, e’en with a cog so fit
As goodly Heron. Not a score of wings
would call the wind, so strong doth Chaos hold.”
The knight took stock of this and looked ahead
To where the Wingless Heron might approach:
A stygian stretch of hungry, dark water
Lay off the bow and beckon’d with its mouth.
The merchant-mare, who was Cadenza, saw
The knight had roused and so made way to him
To speak with hush and measured quiet tone.
Poor Tradewind’s nervous wings flit in concern.
“The maid of Mirth doth swim within the black.
Thou canst not call to her ‘til we suspend
Ourselves above the chilled abyss,
Though way be shut unless we sell our need.”
The pegasus in consternation add:
“The sun is ever block'd here by a cloud
Which doth not move, since wind will not behear
Entreaties of my kin or those a-like.”
The captain made from study and looked out
Upon the merchant’s grim petitioning.
She raised a voice to scorch a hole in cloud
Such that a ray of daylight might break through.
“Belay yer whinging, mare! No needless risk
Will I put to the Heron or her crew.
A-round the Doldrums will we put to move,
A day’s more sail is but it stern demands.”
With gentle flash of blue and sunrise-pink,
The merchant left, and by-wake princess stood,
The goddess Love, Cadenza, in true like,
Her mane awash in colours of the dawn.
At once Sea Nettle bowed, so Tradewind too,
And the others low’d their heads in due address.
Cadenza bid them rise and nobly smiled
Ere giving them the measure of their task.
“My friends, I do lament the subtleties
And pretense woven such to bring us here.
The stallion in my company’s a knight
Sent forth to subdue Chaos through his works.”
All eyes fell then upon the wordless one
Who suddenly, in plates a-lit by day,
Did seem in glory more than prior took
As one diminished by the ruthless road.
“Yon cloud and water ribboned so in dark
I do attribute to the kindless pass
Of Chaos, long a-drift with murky will.
Should Heron help me, it be banishèd.”
No second bidding did the captain need.
They set about, and presently they slipped
Into the Doldrums’ get, where sails go flat
And sun eternal shrouded from the sea.
Kuvuta spake in Quagga, sensing ill
And Bana gave reply in broader tongue:
“The earth is bled beneath a weighted woe,
We feel unrested consciousness below.”
All sound depart, and, breathing stillness in,
Not even waves were there for keel to cut.
The princess brought regard up to the sky,
Then outward o’er glassèd black sent call.
“O sea! O maiden ‘reft of joyful song!
I am thy Love, and hither thee I beck
Yet not with hoof, but voice, like one so sunk
Into the silty earth that crushes hope.”
A time was pass’d, nine murmurs of the heart
Ere ripples born out from the silent wash.
The bosun taciturn, the Prairie Hawk,
Retreat’d slow away to stand at port.
The trimmers two did whicker and befret,
The zebra Bana slight recoiling thence.
“A sea-maid who sings not be Chaos true!
Can bravery alone this curse undo?”
From spray of water dimmed from lack of sun
Emerged sea-pony, coloured coral-like,
Her mane the faded green of tidal-foam.
Into the air was come her full form bare.
A-wetly did she cast upon the deck,
Her scales to set to spectral shimm’ring faint
In morning-light. She looked upon the lot
Before her ‘sembl’d, gaze at last on knight.
The summoner Cadenza knelt a-side
And touch’d her horn against sea-pony’s throat.
Their eyes were shone with magic, both in turn,
And goddess thereupon did speak for her.
“This one hath lost the joy of living on,
For darkness now is visited on all
Who swim with her in depths unseen below.
There be no Mirth for those who dwell in fear.”
The sea-maid pulled herself along the deck
To come and bow before the knight in plea.
No hooves had she, but suchlike fins and tail
As those of fish with whom she shared the world.
“Milady,” said the knight, “I will attend
Thee such as my own met might warrant true.
Confess me, though, I cannot long be ‘moved
From pure-drawn air. How then wouldst have me help?”
She brought herself stood up as much she might,
Yet he was earth-pony, both tall and strong.
The knight put down his head to meet her own,
And thereupon was kiss put to his nose.
A mist-fleck’d tingle ran a-course through him
And sudden did the sea seem closer still
Than ere it had in all his earlier days.
The princess sagely nod and gave explain.
“Unicorns have the sky, and they the sea,
And earth for each the many kindreds ‘twixt,
As Magick doth in splendour take its source
From all of these in strange facetèd ways.”
“A sea-spell, then,” spake knight as armour doff’d,
His raiment so entrusting to Love’s care.
“I’m made to follow her and contend what
Occludes the Mirth from brightening her home.”
“Then here we wait, until thy task be done,”
Said she to him, his armour gathered up.
“Go thou with blessings of the loving Sky,
Restoring Mirth, an Mirth be there to find.”
The upper world was lost in shimmer’d brine,
And in dim sunlight ere descent began,
The knight saw self encased in bubble great
Enough as like within diviner’s ball.
They deeper went, ‘til all the sun was gone
And blackness utter filled periphery.
Sea-pony pulled along her cargo brave
And temper’d true was his unbended will.
They deeper went, and were then met
By eyeless creatures, fell, with scales a-glow
In colours not belonging to the make
Of reason’d gods, in this world or the next.
They deeper went, traversed along the sky
Inverted, where night doth never set,
Where blackness there grows blacker beyond reck
And takes penumbra as its only shade.
They deeper went, lower perchance than all,
To waters Hell itself might drink to quench
The fire eternal, if such were its wont.
A spark of yellow light sat at the floor.
The knight was brought upon that distant fleck
Of colour, like a fire in wilderness.
He there was lit upon a raisèd stone
And made to see the sea-pony cavort.
The serpent woke, and with his open eyes
There were two lights as white as holy snow
Which scatter’d all the life who loves the dark
From their surround in flashes chitinous.
He saw it, then, that stone was not his perch,
In stead the selfsame body of the beast
Which now uncoiled in size no eye could mark.
Anon and nimbly did he move to floor.
“The earth, at last, is come to help the sea!”
The serpent’s voice shook even the abyss.
By light of eyes, the knight saw violet
Its scales, and its hair an orange cloud.
The knight look’d to his maiden, and she held
His gaze in hers to tell all that she might.
The serpent sickly smiled, its moustache twirled
‘Twixt slender claws as it took in the knight.
“Restore the Mirth, which Chaos hoped to drown.
No more doth the Deep Kingdoms ring with joy.
This place, a yellow’d wound upon the world,
Bleeds out the treasured magic of the Sky.”
“The wound is in the earth, and Earth am I,”
Said knight as full perception fell to him.
“So by my passing will I seal it up
And staunch infected wills from taking sway.”
The light was formless and took him in full
When there he did step into it unbid.
An ancient soul with eyes not meant to see
Ask’d him what he, a mortal, offered out.
“In giving, taking, so I see the game.
So be it, I will put to thee my purse:
Return direct her voice, and for that boon
Will I in turn abjure the world of dreams.”
Emotion timeless beat its message out.
“And so accepted, son of earthen keep.
But know thou this, and keep it in thy heart:
The world is old, aye, older sovereigns than
Thy Sisters own who know not what they move
In sooth. A power latent throbs within
All core of things, in thee not least to count.
The imaged sleep, the sacrifice thou metes,
Is stuff of Sky, and for its loss art thou
More child of Mine than ere were thee afore.
His Chaos older still, mayhap, but in
The breath through which thy life shall pass
A keeping old indeed will spring from thee,
An earth-magic antediluvian,
And kin thou sharest with creatures long forgot.”
With such a riddle left, he knew it done.
As he was pony earth, so Earth did mend
Beneath troubled emotion in his breast.
The light was spent, and there was peace again.
A laugh behind him cleared all darkness there
And all beyond, until far could he see
On ridge above a rising citadel,
And all sea-ponies issued from their sanct.
The serpent now did laugh along with her,
A loud and glad-well booming ‘round them all.
With flick of orange moustache did it dance
And swirl about them both with ‘bandoned bliss.
“A-free! A-free! My long-paid toil be done!
So will I go to younger waters hence
And find some sundry means to keep as due.
Sir knight, thy card is colour’d bright indeed!”
It soon away, and whither then it went
Be not the ken of any now who live.
The maiden hied to bring the bubbled knight
Back to the surface, ere was made to stay.
They up, and up, by sea-ponies bechased,
They flocking clamoured for to tribute him.
The sun received them gladly, long await,
As knight left sea on sodden clamber-nets.
So stunn’d, the crew and princess saw the sea
Surround turn blue again, the clouds depart
Beneath the new-born power of the wind.
The sea-maiden again put self to deck.
Her voice was match for Moon in seeming sweet:
“My city be delivered by this one
Who gave up visions in the night’s embrace
To bring my laughter hearty back to me,
Bereft I was of voice for air to breathe.”
The knight spoke not the Chaos she gave court
When she had bargain’d with that time-worn will
Of absent wont and savage energies
That took a serpent great to slumber keep.
As she depart in thanks, the knight took pause;
He heeded neither celebrating crew
Nor Goddess Love. He reckoned silent on
Immortal ken new given mortal home.
The need for Mirth did lead them to a join
Of Earth and Sky, like which the Sisters sprang.
Earth-pony soul did tremble at the feel
Of kindred senses resting down in dark.
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To get this out of the way: "Find ease, sir knight, find ease, I thee beseech!"
If I'm reading it right, that ending quotation mark doesn't need to be there.
As ever, I stand in awe.
...
Don't let Chatoyance see this. I have so little joy left in my life. If I can't be special, I am bereft of damn near the lot.
Also, there's too much "thou" going on, it seems to me. Is no one's status sufficient for the use of a "you" here and there? Ok, that's a nitpick, but heck, it's all I've got
And now that I read it again, I'm still not quite sure what the Knight traded to Steven Magnet for the return of the voices.
Was it his ability to dream? Or to sleep?
I feel like I'm missing it.
956736
The line following that one used to be a bit of dialogue attribution. I've quietly snipped the quote mark off. I've also changed a single word in this chapter to help clear up confusion regarding the bargain made.
As for ye/thou, it's mostly to give a more recognizable style to a character's voice rather than to act as a reliable indicator of familiarity, as shown in this chapter with Sea Nettle. I'm saving the more progressive "ye" addresses for folks with ways speaking which differ from those with the more courtly Equestrian accent.
You are pretty much a hero. I do not exaggerate in the least when I say that this is the best work of fan-written epic poetry I have ever read, as well as the single greatest collection of correct archaic pronoun and verb usage I have ever seen on the internet. Both story and style are really and truly delightful.
If you desire a bit of feedback, the only thing that distracts me at all from the glorious whimsy of the poem is your freeness with the contraction-apostrophe. Not that conserving the meter is bad, of course, but may sometimes make it unclear what the full word is. Additionally, with '-ed's and such, generally a modern reader assumes the contracted pronunciation unless you specifically put a little accent thing over the e, so the contraction would be unnecessary.
Please don't think I'm criticizing; I still adore your story, and offer you a most heartfelt congratulations on your success with such a difficult form.
960520
Thanks for your comment! And yes, I'll of course take any feedback I can get.
First, a bit of what's going on in my head regarding contracted past tense, if you or anyone else is curious. There are a few cases where I don't use the contraction in past-tense verbs, and those are with verbs that have a silent E on the end. Verbs like "place" are still "placed," since making them "plac'd" would suggest a change in pronunciation. The tricky ones for me are verbs that double up the trailing consonant before the suffix, like "plan" becoming "planned." I fully acknowledge that it's around here my style gets a bit shaky. I've gone back and forth between dropping the doubled consonant and contracting, keeping the doubled consonant and contracting, or just using a fully modern approach.
"plan'd"
"plann'd"
"planned"
At the very least, I want to be consistent in how I present it. I really want the poem to have a feeling of being written long ago, so I've been trying to err on the side of archaic-like or archaic-sounding usage. If usage gets too modern, then the text can "disappear" into the story it's telling. That's normally a good thing for writing, since spelling and grammar mistakes make the text "reappear," but for this, constantly parsing the text is meant to be part of the reading experience. In the case of verbs, that means contractions a-go-go. I could scale back the contractions, but then I'll have to answer for why I contracted a verb here and not there, and so on, and I wouldn't have a good answer for that! My accuracy leaves something to be desired, I'm sure, but I'd love to hear suggestions. If there's rules for this sort of thing, then I'm completely ignorant to what they are!
Again, I'm trying to get better, so if there are resources you know of, please let me know.
Thanks again for taking the time to comment!
As always, excellent. I feel like I have just eaten a delicious and energizing snack.
Cadenza, then, is Venus? I approve,
And make my comment as we both are wont.
"A sell-sword with a better sword to sell"
Amused me greatly, I am glad to say.
As for this chapter's title, I'm confused.
The deed is done, but where's the Mirth in it?
With donkeys our fair knight did speak of Sooth
to lead them from their former foolish ways.
Seaponies, we are shown, have lost their Mirth
but our knight simply buys it back in trade.
Mirth reclaimed, true, but no Mirth to be had-
at least, within the doing of the deed.
So I'm perplexed, and any help you give
I promise will be likely well received.
964863
It looks like I've hit another weak spot in my storytelling. This is how I get better, though! Since the mark of good storytelling is not having to explain what just happened, I'm gonna go ahead and explained what just happened as an admission that the resolution could have been more satisfying.
It's not the bargain that dissolved the Chaos in the water, but the sea-pony's laugh. It was her laugh of rejoicing, compounded perhaps by the laughter of relief of the serpent (who was there to keep any more "bargains" from being struck by the citizens of the Deep Kingdom) which restored things to the way they were. The sea-pony traded her voice for the ability to breathe air (as a very loose analog to the story of The Little Mermaid), and in so doing lost also her laughter. Unable to move past times of negative emotion, which is what Mirth helps one to do, it can all easily compound and snowball into a great, consuming blackness.
In the pilot, laughter is shown as a way of beating back darkness and dealing with fear. I wanted to show how powerfully darkness could coalesce around even a single soul for whom it was impossible to laugh. This was meant to contrast with how the knight was able to laugh off his discomfort the morning after the scene at the tavern and Cadence's lecture on how lasting love needs Mirth.
And yes, in my headcanon, Cadence is Venus. It makes too much sense for her not to be!
975905 I would say that the setting of the story is Equestria's medieval period, but the writing style is more appropriate to Shakespeare's time, in that it's early modern English and not Middle English.
975905
976547
With all of the imperfections in what I am writing, I certainly couldn't do Middle English, and honestly I don't think many people would want to read it. In my mind, I'm picturing this as something older colts and fillies might have to slog through near the end of their primary education, bored, looking out the window onto a fine green spring day.
Shakespeare was fond of the medieval period as a setting, even though he didn't much care about historical accuracy and used anachronism freely, which is fine. In my headcanon, the Equestrian Classical era would be analog to our Renaissance, which would mean the pre-Classical era Twilight mentions on Nightmare Night would be their medieval period.
I'm probably not making much sense at this point, so suffice it to say the feel I'm going for is more Tennyson than Shakespeare anyway. God, though, how I wish I had his command of vocabulary.
After the troubles with FimFictino and countless other annoyances, I've now finally managed to read The Deed of Mirth.
First of, let me tell you that you have my respect, gratitude, and admiration for writing this. I had recently considered trying my own hand at epic poetry, but I could not even think of a story, and I certainly could not have kept the same quality as you do. Not to mention I have pretty much no hope of producing 4000 words of poetry in the time it took you.
That being said, I do find the text confusing at times when you modify the syntax to preserve meter. The meter isn't always perfect, either, but it probably does not need to be, and much of my stumbling is probably just a result of not being a native speaker myself and mispronouncing one word or another.
As has already been said, the contractions can be difficult to figure out. I wish I could help you with rules regarding them, but my knowledge of early modern English is not up to that task. Perhaps I can find some useful insight when I turn back to my own poetic endeavors.
The vocabulary takes me off guard here and there, though according to previous comments, that might be quite as intended.
However, I do have to agree with LittleSallyDigby. The resolution in te Deed of Mirth was much weaker than in the Deed of Sooth. While giving up the ability to dream is in my opinion a great sacrifice, that very sacrifice places this resolution closer to generosity than mirth to me. However, I won't pass final judgment on that issue until I know how it influenes the rest of the story. It does seem pretty likely that it will come back to haunt him.
Looking forward to the next chapter. And storing this one, just in case.
986409
I've taken the criticisms that Tousle-Headed Poet and LittleSallyDigby had regarding contractions and the weak ending to heart, and I'll be working to avoid them while I go forward. My intent is more for the knight to be a catalyst for others dissolving Chaos rather than doing it himself (e.g. the honesty of the donkeys, the laughter of the sea-pony), but I realize now there wasn't enough meat with the Mirth resolution to properly show what was going on.
I like this story (as in, the actual plot [that word is ruined for me]).
I just can't read it!
XD
I love that you've put so much effort into it, but understanding the text is soo hard.
A question, have you considered rewriting this normally after you've finished this version?
Just so that those of us not awesome enough to parse the more archaic style can experience the story?
In any case, this is awesome.
That is all.
Journcy Out.
987340
Oh, even with any flaws I might have noticed, I think you're still doing a splendid job. Dare I say fabulous?
Furthermore, I have found a resource you might find useful: An online copy of an old but respected comparative study of Early Modern English (particularly drawing on Shakespeare) and Modern English.
This chapter in particular might be relevant to your troubles with the contraction of the third person singular past tense morpheme -ed: http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.03.0080%3Asection%3D5%3Asubsection%3D3%3Aparagraph%3D474
I hope it'll prove useful or at least interesting.
989771
The poetry might be due for a rewrite once it's done to help strengthen the weak parts of the plot, but right now I can't look far enough ahead to know whether or not I'd undertake a prose version. It doesn't seem likely at the moment, though, with my main concern on finishing what I've set before me and giving a good account of it.
991738
Hey, (Abbott) Abbott! A Shakespearean Grammar is now pretty old in its own right, and it's interesting to see how Modern English has progressed even since its publication. I notice that Shakespeare will happily drop silent Es from his own contractions (e.g. "rag'd" for "raged", "sham'st" for "shamest", though that also drops a syllable, which can be handy), something I'm not willing to do for modern readers. It looks like a good resource. I'll see what I can glean from this. Thank you!
I don't always read aloud,
But when I do, it's in Shakespearean English
989771
If it were rewritten in modern-day English It would have a high probability of being significantly shorter a dull.
“Unicorns have the sky, and they the sea,
And earth for each the many kindreds ‘twixt,
As Magick doth in splendour take its source
From all of these in strange facetèd ways.”
I may just be reading it wrong due to the fact that Shakespearean English is like that sometimes, but should it not say that "Pegasi have the sky..."
Like so:
“Pegasi have the sky, and they the sea,
And earth for each the many kindreds ‘twixt,
As Magick doth in splendour take its source
From all of these in strange facetèd ways.”
Great story by the way. ^w^
1061932
That passage is talking about the different sources of magic that various species use. The suggestion here is that unicorns use their horns to call down magic from the sky, since that is where the sun and moon reside, while earth-ponies, zebras, buffalo, and so on use the more subtle magics of the earth and sea-ponies the still more mysterious magic of the sea.
By the way, progress is ongoing, for those curious. I've got a few weeks coming up between semesters where I'll be able to prioritize my writing again.
Ah, this gets better with each installment!
I'm happy to see Stephen Magnet get some "screen time," as t'were; very few fics use him at all.
Holy smokes.
This was NOT what I was expecting when I did a google search for [early modern english +"an thou"]. (You're the third result.) I'm knee-deep in editing the historical adventure-slash-crack crossover I'm writing, where I'm trying to simultaneously juggle Old English, EME and modern, but this is definitely going on my reading list once I come back up for air.
This is solid at every line. I am envious.
Contrary to several of the remarks above I really liked the resolution of this chapter - did you change it from the original version? Cadence as Venus is forehead smacking obvious, and having the knight save the day again without anypony being hurt (win-win rules the heart of love!) is so very well done.
I am so disappointed that I've only discovered this a year after you first published it.
Are you saying that the god took residence within the knight's body?