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What we do when we are not gardening => Creative Writing => Topic started by: Palustris on January 30, 2014, 12:29:13 PM

Title: The Music Box
Post by: Palustris on January 30, 2014, 12:29:13 PM

The Music Box.

Chapter One

Visiting Great Grandmother.

 
            Miya did not look forward to Saturday mornings. That was the day when her mother took her to visit her Great Grandmother or Granana, as Miya called her. When they first arrived Miya was lifted up to give her Granana a kiss.  Miya hated this. She complained to her mother that the old lady smelled and had a hairy chin.

            “You may be old like that one day,“ said her mother. “And you might like your only great granddaughter to be nice to you.”

Miya was placed on a stool next to the old lady’s rocking chair and told to stay whilst her mother tidied the house. Granana slept most of the time these days and it was hard for Miya just to sit there.  It would not have been too bad if Granana ever spoke, but all she did was mumble to herself, even in her sleep.

The only pleasant part of the visit was when Granana did wake up, pick up her walking stick and point at the Music box on the dresser. This was a signal that Miya was to go and carefully bring the Music box over to the rocking chair. She would dearly loved to have wound it up and opened the lid to listen to the tinkling tune which it played, but Granana insisted on doing that for herself. Miya got very impatient as Granana slowly wound the little key round, mumbling to herself all the while. Miya was fascinated by her great grandmother’s fingers. They were all bent and knobbly. Miya’s mother told her that her Granana had arthritis in her hands which was what made them so misshapen.

“It is very painful for her, especially in the cold weather. And if you think they look bad, then you should see her poor feet.”

Even so Miya wished the winding did not take so long. She counted the turns. “Ten,” she announced.

Granana stopped winding and slowly put the box on the little table next to her rocking chair. Then, she settled back in her chair and then, only then was Miya allowed to open the lid. The music began to play. Miya sat and watched the box, chin on her hands. She loved to look at the beautiful carvings on the side of it, polished by years of handling. She was fascinated by the little round platform which came up when the lid was open. She thought that it looked like a tiny stage. Sticking up through the stage were some little wires. These went up and down in time to the music.

Granana always did the same thing when the music began. She nodded her head and moved her hands in time to the music. Even her feet, her poor crippled feet, tried to move in time with the music. When the music finally stopped, Granana sighed, reached over and closed the lid. Miya then very carefully put the music box back on the dresser. Granana usually went back to sleep then.

Miya once asked her mother about the music box. Her mother had smiled and said, “I will tell you the story one of these days, but not yet.”

Miya though it was strange that one person should have so many names. The old lady was Great grandma, or Granana, or Grandmother depending on who was talking about her. Miya thought it even odder that no one ever called her by her first name. Miya did not even know what it was.

So it was that when the old lady died, Miya shed only a few tears. A few days after the Funeral Miya’s father brought home the rocking chair. “This is too good to throw away, “he said. “But everything else in the house is well past being of any use.”

He looked down at Miya. “Oh, I had forgotten about this. Your Great grandmother wanted you to have it.”  From behind his back he brought out the music box and handed it to Miya.

She squealed with delight.

“Be careful with it, “he warned. “It is very old, older even than Granana and I do not think there is anyone now who could mend it if you break it.”

“Oh, I will, I will,” promised Miya. “I will put it on the table next to my bed and listen to it every night.”

Her mother added, “Well do not turn the key too many times.”

“No,” said Miya. “Granana turned it ten times.”

Her father opened the lid, but the music did not play, nor did the stage turn. “I have often thought that there ought to be a figure on that stage,” he said. “One that moves with the music.” He pulled at his bottom lip as he did when he was thinking. “I wonder in the Toymaker in town could make one for it.”

Miya was surprised when her mother snapped, “No! Never!” and took the box from her father’s hands.

That night when she was being tucked up in bed by her mother, Miya said. “Why did you shout at Dad over the music box?”

Her mother sat down on the bed and said. “I suppose you are old enough to hear the story now. Your Granana told it to your Grandmother and she told it to me. One day I hope you will tell it to a daughter of yours.”

Miya giggled at the thought of her having a daughter, but settled down to listen.

 

 

Title: Re: The Music Box
Post by: Palustris on January 31, 2014, 10:54:01 AM

Chapter Two.

Miya’s Mother’s Story

 

A poor crippled girl.

 
            Poor little crippled Annie hated being called that. “Just because everybody says it and even if it is true, there is no need for them to keep on reminding me.”

            Sadly, though,  it was true, Annie was small for her age and she had been born with one leg much shorter than the other. Her parents lived in a tumbledown shack at the very end of the Village. Not long after she was born her Father left her Mother and disappeared.

            “Good riddance!” was all her Mother had said.

            Annie’s Mother died just before Annie’s eleventh birthday. After the burial Annie overheard the Village elders discussing what to do about her.

            “She cannot live in that shack, all on her own,” one had said.

            The others agreed.

            “If she was not crippled she could be put to work at the Palace,” said another.

            One of the ladies added, “Perhaps an Orphanage?”

            Annie did not wait for them to decide. She might be small and crippled, but she had a good strong back and a good mind. Quietly she collected her few miserable belongings from the shack and set off into the Forest. She could not walk very quickly with her odd up and down style of walking, but the village people were still arguing and she was well out of sight before they thought to look for her. She did not think they would come looking for her in any case.

            Annie limped along until she came to a small side path. She followed it until she came to a Cottage in a clearing. For a minute or two she stood and thought about what she was planning, then, plucking up her courage, she went in through the garden gate. As she did a whole flock of rooks flew out of the trees around the clearing. The noise they made was deafening. Annie almost turned and fled. She swallowed hard, walked up to the door and knocked.

            “Come in, “said a harsh voice.

            Annie did as she was told. For a moment she was unable to see anything until her eyes got used to the gloom. When she could see, she glanced round the room. It was almost as dirty as the shack she was used to. The windows were so dusty very little light came in.

            “Well, don’t just stand there, letting in a draught, close the door and come over here.”

            Annie closed the door and walked over to where the owner of the voice seemed to be. Next to the fire place was a high back chair. In it sat an old looking woman, dressed in black. Annie went to stand in front of the chair.

            For a moment the woman just looked at her without speaking. Annie stood still.

            “Hmmm!” said the woman. “And what may I ask do you want with the Witch of the Dark Forest?”

            Now that she was here, in the Witch’s Cottage Annie began to wonder if she was doing the right thing. She swallowed nervously. “If it please you ma’am.” She had heard the servant girls say that, “If it please you, I need a Spell or a potion.”

            The Witch cackled.” One to make a boy fall in love with you I suppose.”

            Annie blushed. “No! I want one to make me graceful and pretty, like one of the Dancers in the Royal Ballet.”

            Annie had been lucky enough to sneak into the tiny theatre in the Town to watch the dancers rehearsing.

            “Come closer,” ordered the Witch.

            Annie did as she was told.

           The Witch took Annie’s chin in a gnarled hand and turned her face, this way and that. “Walk over to the table and back,” she ordered.

           Annie did as she was asked and limped across to the table and back to the Witch’s chair.

            “A pretty hard thing you ask,” said the Witch.

“Can you do it?” asked Annie.

“I think I could,” said the Witch slowly. “Yes, it would be an interesting experiment.”

Annie clapped her hands in glee.

“But,” went on the Witch, “There is the question of payment. I do not suppose you have any gold do you?”

Annie shook her head. “No, but I am a good worker. I may be small and crippled, but my back is strong and I know how to clean and wash. I can look after a garden and even cook.”

“Well,” said the Witch. The place could do with a good cleaning and I do like to eat.” She thought for a good five minutes. Annie stood quietly hardly daring to hope.

Then the Witch laughed,. “How old are you?

“Eleven tomorrow,” replied Annie.

“This is what will happen then,“ said the Witch. “You will work for me until your eighteenth birthday, no complaints, no giving up and running away, doing everything you are asked to do and on that day I will turn you into a dancer. Fair enough?”

Annie did not hesitate. “Oh, yes please.”

“Good!” said the Witch."You can start by cleaning the windows.”

Annie worked as hard as she was able. She slept in a little room off the kitchen. It was warm and more comfortable than her old room in the shack had been. She kept it clean and always had a bunch of sweet smelling flowers on a small table by her bed.

She cooked for the Witch and herself.  She grew vegetables and herbs in the garden. The Witch brought in meat though she never said where she got it from. She learned to sew and made herself clothes and an apron to keep them clean when she was cooking.

When visitors came Annie was sent to her room. She often heard the Witch and people talking in quiet voices, but being a sensible girl and not wanting to spoil her chances of becoming a dancer, she did not try to hear what was being said.

The Witch spent much of her time making Potions and writing the recipes for them down in a large book. The Potions were for all sorts of things from making someone fall in love with you to cures for warts. The one which Annie found most interesting was one which cured pain. Annie did not try to learn how to make the Love potion, but the Pain cure he thought would be very useful for a dancer, so she watched very carefully how it was made and what went into to it. One day when the Witch was away from home, Annie gathered the ingredients and made some for herself. She tried it when her back ached from working in the garden. The pain disappeared.

The time passed, as time does, at its own pace, until it was her eighteenth birthday. Annie knew it was the right day as the Witch kept a large calendar pinned to the Wall next to the Door. She said that she needed to know where the Moon was when casting Spells. Annie got out of bed, put on the kettle for the Witch’s morning tea. The Witch had been off somewhere most of the night and had just come in. Annie made the tea and put it on the table next to the Witch. She stood waiting until the Witch drank some.

“Well??” snapped the Witch. “Have you nothing to do?”

“I am eighteen today,” said Annie.

The Witch looked closely at her, “So you are, so you are. Remind me again what was supposed to happen on your birthday.”

“You said you would make me in to a dancer,” said Annie.

“So I did. Well no time like the present to give you your present,” said the Witch.  “Fetch me that box from the shelf over there.”

Annie went to the shelf and brought over a beautifully carved wooden box. She put it on the table.

The Witch rubbed her hands together. She picked up the box and showed Annie where there was a tiny key hole. “Watch, “she said. She opened the box and took out a small key. It fitted in the key hole. The box lid was closed up.

“Ten turns I think,” said the Witch. “Here, you do it, my hands are too bad these days.”

She handed the box to Annie who turned the key ten times.

The Witch snatched the box from Annie, “That’s enough. Too many turns and you will break it.” She lifted the lid again. A tinkling tune filled the air.

Annie clapped her hands. “Oh, that is lovely,” she cried.

“You like it then” said the Witch. “I am so glad, because you are going to hear it an awful lot.”

She waved her hands and muttered some strange sounding words. Annie disappeared, but on the little round stage in the box a tiny ballet dancer appeared, dancing in time to the music.

“The Witch laughed, “Well you wanted to be a Dancer my dear and so you are. And a dancer you will stay until the music is started and stopped again, by a man in constant pain.”

Those were the last words Annie heard for a very long time.

The Witch closed the lid on the Music Box and put it back on the shelf. She drank her tea and said to no one in particular. “I suppose I shall have to find another maid now.” She sniffed. “Ah well.”

 

Title: Re: The Music Box
Post by: Palustris on February 01, 2014, 11:26:52 AM

Chapter Three

The Clock maker

Jack Cranklin was the best watch and clock maker in the world. He did not claim that, but everyone who bought a watch or clock from the shop did. Jack worked in the back of his Father’s shop. The people who came to buy a watch were served by Jack’s father. He himself never came out of the Workroom when there were people around.

The sad truth is that Jack was born with a deformed spine. He could not straighten it out. To look at people’s faces he had to strain his neck. It was easier to look at the ground rather than cause himself any more pain than his back did already. The one place he felt comfortable was sat on a high stool leaning over his workbench. With his eye glass in place and all his tools to hand he spent hours making and mending. In the evening when his mother insisted that he stop and rest, he kept a pad and pencil next to his chair and drew designs for fantastic clocks with figures which appeared when the clock struck the hour.

One day, he was mending a watch, when his Father opened the door from the shop and bowed in a woman. This was very unusual. Jack could not remember his Father allowing anyone into the Workroom before. Painfully Jack began to climb of his stool. He had been brought up to stand when a lady entered a room.

            The woman put her hand on his shoulder and stopped him from standing. “You do not need to get up for me. I am no lady.”

Gratefully, Jack sat back down again and turned painfully towards her.

She put her gloved hand under his chin and lifted his head. He found himself looking at a youngish woman dressed in black. He snatched his chin away before the pain became too bad.

She turned to his Father, “You may leave us to talk. I will call when I am ready to leave."  Jack’s father backed out of the Workroom.

“There are a couple of things you can do for me,” said the woman producing a beautifully carved wooden box from under her black cloak. “This is a music box. It is very precious to me. However, my maid stupidly over wound the spring and now the thing will not longer work. See.”

She turned the key in the key hole, opened the box and nothing happened. “I would like you to mend it.”

Jack shook his head, “You would be better going to the Toymaker in the next street. He is better with these things than I am.”

“I have been to him already and he said to come to you. This is after all clockwork, is it not?” She put the music box on the work bench.

Jack sighed and picked up his eyeglass. It only took a few moments to take the top off the box and to expose the workings. He shook his head. “The main spring in the mechanism is broken, as you said. If I can find one like it I could mend it yes.”

“Good,” said the Woman.

Jack carried on looking at the inside of the box through his glass. “You know this is a fine piece of work. I would be hard put to make anything as good as this myself.”

“I shall leave it with you then,” said the Woman.

“You said there was a couple of things I could do for you," said Jack, easing his aching spine.

“Yes,” said the Woman. “I want you to make me a clockwork man.”

Jack nearly fell off his stool. “A clockwork man?”

“Exactly!” replied the Woman. “I will bring you a suit of armour and you will make it so that it can be wound up and it will work.”

“Work in what way?” asked Jack

“In exactly the same way as any man in a suit of armour might work.” The Woman answered.

Jack thought for quite a few minutes. “You know,” he said, “That would be a real challenge, but yes I think I could do it. Certainly I would like to try.” Then he stopped at a sudden thought. “It could be rather expensive in parts though. Can you afford it?” He risked the pain and looked up at the Woman.

The Woman looked down at him and snorted. “You have no idea who I am,do you?”

Jack shook his head. He rarely went out and had met very few people.

“Most people know me as the Witch of the Dark Forest," said the Woman in a quiet voice.

“Oh!” Jack swallowed nervously. Even he had heard of her.

“You will be paid handsomely for your efforts, if the clockwork man works.”

Jack nodded, then took a deep breath. “There is one thing you could do, if the stories about you are true.”

The Witch looked suspicious. “What?”

“You could take away the pain in my back for me,” said Jack quickly.

The Witch smiled, not a nice smile, but a smile for all that.

“That is what you want me to do, take away the pain in your back?”

“Yes, please!”

“Then so be it. I will take away your pain when the clockwork man is ready. The armour will be delivered tomorrow so you may begin as soon as possible.” The Witch turned and went out.

Jack heard the shop bell tinkle and let out a sigh.

True to her word the armour arrived on the door step of the Work room next morning. No one saw who delivered it. It was just there. Jack’s father carried it into the workroom. “This should have taken two men to lift it,” he marvelled, “But it is so light. And strong,” He tapped it with his knuckle.

Three months later and after neglecting his clock making and mending duties Jack had almost finished the clockwork man. The Witch had called in to see how it was coming along every few days. Jack got used to her suddenly appearing in his Workroom peering over his shoulder and demanding that he worked faster. At least she paid in good silver for the parts he needed.

Finally when she visited he was able to say, “I have one more piece to fit and then he is finished. He held up a piece of the man. “There is one small problem. This piece needs a spring, stronger than the strongest steel, but only as thick as a human hair.”

“And have you got one,” asked the Witch.

“Oh yes, “replied Jack.

“So what is the problem?”

“I have only the one spring and I need exactly the same one to mend your music box. You will have to choose where I use it. Sorry.”

“Put it in him,” ordered the Witch. “I can do without a music box.”

Jack quickly fitted the spring and put the last part of the man into a hole in its chest. He screwed up the armour. Then he bowed and presented the Witch with a key. “I presume you would like to be the first to wind him up?”

The Witch grabbed the key. Jack showed her where it went and she began to turn. “Ten turns is enough for a test.” said Jack, “But if it is right then he will need one hundred to work for a day and a night.”

The Witch finished winding and the clockwork man walked across the room and stopped. It turned round and walked back. This it did until the main spring wound down.

“Is that it then?” asked the Witch.

“Well,” said Jack. “I suppose it is.” He sniffed. “About the only way it would do more is if it had a real brain, but that would be impossible.”

The Witch’s eyes opened wide and look of pure evil crossed her face.

Jack was busy making a small adjustment to the clockwork knight and not looking at the Witch. “You could even teach it to wind itself up if it had a real brain.”

“What a good idea,” said the Witch quietly.

“Pardon?” said Jack closing the little hatch on the back of the man.

“Oh, nothing important to you,” replied the Witch. “Now how much do I owe you?”

Jack‘ s father had made out a bill. Jack handed it over. The Witch glanced at it, snorted and handed over a heavy purse.

“I think you will find that, that more than covers it.”

Jack opened the purse. It was full of gold coins. He took one out and looked closely at it.

“It is real, not Fairy money,” snapped the Witch.

Hurriedly Jack put the coin back in the purse and turned to the Witch. Timidly he asked, “And the pain?”

“Ah, yes. I did promise to make the pain go away didn’t I? Well, I always keep my word.”

She waved her hands and muttered a few words.

Jack waited for something to happen, for his back to straighten up, but he carried on looking at the floor as he had done all his life. He lifted his chin to look up at the Witch. “But I am still bent over,” he said in disappointment.

“You did not ask me to make you stand up straight,” said the Witch. “You only asked for the pain to be gone and I think you will find that it has.”

It was true, the pain Jack usually felt when he lifted his head was no longer there, nor was the nagging ache in his back.

“I do wish people would ask for what they really wanted,” said the Witch in a nasty tone of voice. “You should be grateful for what you have got. Put the knight outside the Workroom and I will send someone to collect it tonight.”

With that she walked to the door. She turned as she left and said, “Oh and just in case you are not happy with it, I can tell you that the pain will return tenfold if the knight is destroyed. So you had better hope your workmanship is as good as everyone says.”  She left.

Jack gave the knight a couple of windings and guided it through the Workroom door.  He gave it one last polish, sighed and went back to making and mending clocks and watches. The gold was as real as the Witch promised and as Jack’s father pointed out, the pain was gone which was better than nothing at all. Next morning the knight had gone.

Title: Re: The Music Box
Post by: ideasguy on February 02, 2014, 10:16:18 AM

Keep up the good work Eric  :)
Another book binding session for James beckons :)
We have some catching up to do. Not as much time in the short time after school, music (tin whistle and recorder) dinner and Mum/Dad pickup time.
Also have to fit in a daily chore called Homeworks! bah :'(

Title: Re: The Music Box
Post by: Palustris on February 02, 2014, 10:26:41 AM

Chapter Four

 

Princes Roban and Prince Rogan.

Princes Roban and Rogan liked nothing better than to hunt deer in the Dark Forest. They knew better than to go too deeply into the Forest, but there were plenty of clearings and rides near to the edge. The deer needed to come out of the trees to feed, so there was always plenty of hunting to be had without the danger of meeting one of the bands of outlaws that roamed the deep parts of the Forest. Even the Outlaws did not venture into the deepest darkest part of the Forest.

Even though they were twins, the two Princes were very different. Prince Roban was the elder by ten minutes and heir to the throne. He was quiet, thoughtful, courteous and kind. Rogan on the other hand was wild and thoughtless. He could be very unkind, though when it was pointed out to him he was always full of apologies. He was also inclined to rush into things without thinking of the consequences.

 Rogan was a much better swordsman than Roban, being a few inches taller and with a longer reach. Roban however was the better archer. There was little to choose between them in horsemanship or hunting skills.

As boys it was Rogan’s love of adventure which led them into trouble and Roban’s cleverness that often got them out of it again. They rarely fell out and even then the quarrel did not last for long. All in all they were good brothers.

On this particular day the pair was hunting to the North of the Palace. Their Father, King Rolan, warned them before they set out. “Be careful, the path to the Witch’s Cottage is off in that direction and you know that I have had some trouble with her in the past. She has threatened me more than once and she would love to catch one or both of you.”

The boys promised to be careful. They rode out and before long came across a small herd of deer. “Tally ho” shouted Rogan and set off in pursuit. As luck would have it Roban’s horse chose that moment to stumble. He fell off, luckily on to a pile of leaves, so he was not hurt. However, by the time had had stood up, caught his horse and mounted, the rest of the hunters were out of sight. He followed their tracks until he caught up with them in a clearing. The huntsmen had dismounted and were stood scratching their heads. The dogs wandered about whining and whimpering. Of Prince Rogan there was no sign.

“Where’s Rogan??” demanded Roban.

The chief huntsman spoke up. “He was well ahead of us, as usual and when we reached this clearing he was nowhere to be seen.” He pointed to the dogs. “And they cannot find a scent to follow. We have looked all round and there are no tracks leading out of the clearing. You can see where he came in.” He showed Roban the tracks. “That is your brother’s horse,” he said. “You can tell by that odd shaped shoe it has.”

Roban nodded. He walked round the clearing. Sure enough there were no tracks leading out of it. “Well he must be somewhere," he said.  "People do not just vanish into thin air. There is something odd going on here. Look at the dogs.”

The hunting dogs were no longer wandering about the clearing searching for a trail as they were supposed to do, instead they were sat in a huddle in the centre, looking very nervous.

“We have to look for him” said Roban. “Split up into pairs and spread out round the clearing. One man, stay in the clearing and the other search as far as they can without going out of his partners sight.” He paired up with the Chief huntsman. Even with the Hunter holding on to a tree and Roban holding on to his hand and stretching as far in to the surrounding as he could reach, he found nothing.

The others reported that they too could feel nothing but more trees and bushes. Roban began to get worried. He could feel that there was something very wrong with his brother.  He paced up and down the clearing, trying desperately to think of something to do.

“Your Highness,” interrupted one of the huntsmen. “Bill, Watt and I tried something. We tied our belts together so I could search further out in to the Forest. I think we have found something.”

“Show me!” ordered the Prince.

The hunters led him to one side of the Clearing. He added his belt to theirs and went in amongst the trees. He felt around as far as he could reach. His hand brushed against something cold. It was just too far for him to get hold off and too dark in the trees to see it clearly. He pulled himself back into the clearing.

“There is something there and it is as cold as ice, but I cannot quite reach it.”

No one else was wearing a belt. Then, Roban had an idea. He picked up one of the hunter’s bows. He tied the end of the belt rope to the end of the bow and holding that he went through the trees again. The extra length was enough. He found himself out of the trees and blinking in the sudden sunlight. Keeping tight hold of the bow he looked round. He was on a path, quite wide and obviously well used.

He looked back to where he had come out of the trees and was astonished to find that his hand and the end of the bow were invisible. Shocked he let go of the bow and pulled his hand out of the trees. He looked at his hand carefully, it was all there.

Then he realised what he had done. He wore under his breath.

“Now, now, “said a harsh voice behind him. “Naughty, naughty, good little princes do not use words like that.”

Prince Roban spun round, his hand automatically going for his sword. It was not in his belt. Confused he reached for his hunting knife, remembering that he did not carry a sword when hunting.

The path was empty.

“Come now," said the harsh voice. “You do not think I am going to let you use that on me do you?”

“Who are you?” demanded Roban, already knowing the answer, but hoping he was wrong.

A woman stepped out from the shadows. “Oh, I think you know who I am" she said.

“The Witch!” said Roban. Then remembering his manners he bowed and said “At your service, madam.”

“I think not, “chuckled the Witch. “I already have the service of your brother and for the moment, at least, that is all I need.”

“What have you done with him, where is he? “demanded Roban.

The Witch pointed down the path behind Roban.

He turned round. On the path behind him was a long narrow box. It glistened in the sun. Quickly he went to it and knelt down. He ran a hand over the box and quickly pulled it away. The box was freezing. Inside he could see his brother, Rogan.

“What have you done with him? Roban shouted.

The Witch came to stand next to him. “You know he was always a bit of a hot head, so I cooled him down. You could say I put him on ice, well, in ice to be exact.”

She laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. She went on. “Don’t worry he is not dead, yet. He will die if you try to free him from the ice though.”

Roban shook his head. “I do not understand.”

The Witch sounded as if she was enjoying herself. “I needed a brain and he was not using his, so I borrowed it.”

“But why?” Roban wanted to know.

The Witch stopped laughing. “Your father may now stop trying to get rid of me. I have as much right, maybe more to live in the Forest. There have been witches here longer than your kingdom. Maybe the sight of his eldest son wrapped in an ice coffin will remind him of that.”

With that she turned on her heel and strode off into the shadows, somehow taking them with her.

There was a commotion in the trees behind him and Roban whirled round drawing his hunting dagger. It was the huntsmen. “Your highness,” shouted the Chief hunter. “Are you safe?”

Roban put his knife away. “Yes, how did you find me?”

“The path suddenly appeared and we could see Prince Rogan’s horse tracks,"  explained the hunter. “Where is he?”

Prince Roban showed them the Ice Coffin and explained about the Witch. The hunters went back into the clearing and fetched out the horses. They brought a cart from the Palace and took the coffin back. King Rolan already knew there was something wrong. Prince Rogan’s horse had arrived home earlier.

The coffin was set on a stone table in the family tomb. “I know he is alive,” said King Rolan sadly, “But this is the coldest place in the Palace and you never know the ice may melt and then he really would die.”

When the coffin was set in place, King Rolan and Prince Roban stood looking at the peaceful face of Prince Rogan.

“Look, said Prince Roban, “There is a piece of paper on his chest.” He leant over the coffin and read “The spell will be broken when the Dark Knight breaks down and is seen to weep. Then the Prince will wake from dreamless sleep.”

King Rolan shook his head. “I do not know of any Dark knight, do you?”

Prince Roban did not know of any either. “But I will search for one, even if it takes me the rest of my life.”

Title: Re: The Music Box
Post by: Palustris on February 03, 2014, 10:44:09 AM

Chapter 5.

A Clock for a King.

Jack was mending the Mayor’s watch. He was still bent and did not go out much, but as promised by the Witch, his back no longer ached and he could raise his head with difficulty but no agonising pain.  The music box sat on the bench and Jack often tried to find a spring which would make it work again. So far, he had had no success. Each one he bought or made himself was either too thick or not strong enough and snapped when the key was turned.

Now that the pain had gone he could work even better than he had done before and the shop was now busy all the time. People came from all over to buy new timepieces or to have old ones repaired. Jack still sat at night and drew designs for clocks with moving scenes which came to life when the clock struck the hour.

He told his father,”One day I shall build one of these.”

His Father had laughed and replied, “It would take a Prince to afford one too!”

A few months after he had finished the clockwork knight, the shop door opened and a richly dressed footman came in. “His Royal Highness, Prince Roban.” Then he stood aside and allowed the Prince to enter.

Jack’s father quickly stood up behind the counter and bowed low.

“Sorry about that,” said the Prince. “They insist on doing it and they get very upset if I tell them not to. Now I am told that you make the finest timepieces in the kingdom.”

Nervously Jack’s father said, “Yes Your Highness. My son, Jack, makes them and people tell me they are the best.”

“I would like to meet this genius then,” smiled the Prince. Jack’s Father led the Prince to the Workroom. Jack struggled to rise, but the Prince put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him. “Stay seated my friend, ‘tis easier for you. I will sit here and we can talk comfortably.”  Prince Roban pulled over another stool and sat down.

The shop bell tinkled. Jack’s father excused himself and went to see to a customer.

“Now,” said Prince Roban, "I have a commission for you. It is my Father’s fiftieth birthday this year and I would like to give him something really different. He loves clocks so I wondered if you could make something really special for him.”

Jack took a deep breath. This was his chance perhaps, to make one of his designs come to life. “I have done some drawings of special clocks which you might like,” he said.

He reached into the little cupboard and drew out the bundle of papers with the designs on them and handed them to the Prince. The first one was a design where when the clock struck the hour a pair of knights came out and fought a duel. One knight was painted black and the other white. The black knight always won. He showed it to the Prince. He was astonished to see the Prince shudder and push the paper away.

“Sorry, but not that one,” the Prince said.

“Sire?”

“I have spent the last three months looking for a knight in black armour and mine is white. I do not think my father would be too happy to watch me being beaten every hour.” Prince Roban looked sad for a moment.

Jack put the design back in the cupboard. He spread out the other ideas that he had drawn. The Prince looked over them and chose one.

“I like this one,” he said. “Can you build it? “

“Yes,” said Jack.

“Good. It must be ready in three months time for the Birthday. I suppose I ought to ask how much it is going to cost.”

Jack replied. “It will be ready, Your Highness, even if I have to do nothing else. I have wanted to make one of these designs for a long time. My Father is the one to talk to about the price. I just build them.”

The Prince smiled. “I see you make Music boxes as well. He picked up the one Jack had spent so much time trying to mend.

“Oh, no, I did not make this one," replied Jack. “I have been trying to mend it for a long time, but I cannot get a spring for it. I did have one once, but I had to use it for something else.”

“That is a shame, the box is beautiful. What was more important that you used the spring in it instead of in your music box?” The Prince turned the box round in his hands peering at the fine carving. He opened it up and looked at the little dancer lying folded up on a tiny stage. “She looks as if she is just waiting to get up and dance,” he said.

"It is not really my box," said Jack. "The Witch left it a few months ago.”

Prince Roban put the box down quickly. "The Witch?  What was she doing here?”

“She wanted me to make a clockwork man for her.”

The Prince’s eyes opened wide, “And did you?”

Jack sighed. “Oh, yes. She promised to take away my pain if I did. So I built her a clockwork man. She brought a suit of armour and I made her a wind up knight. I thought she was gong to make me straight, but she only laughed at me. She did stop the pain though.”

“What colour was this armour?” demanded Prince Roban.

“It was black, your highness. No colour in it at all.”

“At last!” cried the Prince. “Do you know where she took it?”

Jack shook his head. “I am sorry, but she told us to put it outside and it was gone in the morning. No one saw who took it.”

“Pity,” said the Prince. “Still that is more news of a black armoured knight than I have had so far.”

“Why are you looking for him?” Jack asked.

Prince Roban explained about his brother, ending with, “That is why she wanted a brain. She needed one to put in the clockwork man.”

“Oh dear,” said Jack. “I think I may have put that idea into her head. I told her the only way the knight could be any better was if he had a brain. I am so, so sorry.” He was almost in tears.

Prince Roban patted him on the shoulder. “You are not to blame. The Witch is evil. She would have done something like that anyway. Certainly I don’t hold you responsible.”

The Prince visited often, after that to see how Jack was getting on with the clock. They became friends. Jack showed the Prince how watches worked and even allowed him to mend a few. In return the Prince told Jack about life in the Palace and what was happening in the world. The Prince remarked that he was a prince through an accident of birth whereas Jack was a Prince amongst craftsmen.

Two months later Jack’s father went off on a trip to collect the broken workings from the clock in a Guild Hall in Ingford, a town far to the north. The town was right on the edge of the Kingdom close to the Mountains.  When Jack’s father returned he brought the piece with him and put it on the workbench. “Odd place that,” he remarked. “Normally when you go to these distant places everyone is pleased to see you and wants to hear all the news. These folks just hurried about their business and hardly said a word. Most of them looked terrified. The Guild Master handed over the clock piece and almost pushed me back on to my cart. He was in so much of a hurry to be rid of me.”

Jack was too busy unwrapping the parcel to listen closely.  He unscrewed the back of the clock workings. “Hmmm, it is no wonder the clock has stopped working, someone has stuffed a piece of paper in here.” He took it out and spread it out on the Workbench. “It is a note,” he said.

He read it out.” Please help us. The Black Knight has taken the whole town prisoner. Anyone who tries to stop him disappears. Tell the King.”

“See, I told you there was something odd about that place,” said his father.” We had better send a message as they ask.”

“Bit late now,” said Jack “Prince Roban is coming tomorrow, we can tell him then."

When Prince Roban heard the news and read the note he thumped the table and cried, “At last we know where he is. Forgive me my friend, but I must tell my father and go to Ingford as soon as possible.” He turned to leave.

Nervously Jack grabbed Prince Roban’s sleeve. The Prince frowned. “I am sorry Your Highness,” said Jack, “But please, do you think this Black knight is the one I made for the Witch.”

“It seems likely. It is the only Black knight I have heard about in the last six months. Why?”

Jack swallowed and sighed. “Then I must come with you. I made it and I may be the only one who can destroy it.”

He did not mention that the end of the clockwork man would mean the return of his pain.

“That may be true," agreed Prince Roban. “But you hate going out, Are you sure you really want to come?”

Jack nodded. “That is true. I do not like the way people stare at me and the children call me names and I hate they way they feel sorry for me. I am as good a man as any of them. But, I have to come with you. You say you do not blame me for what happened to your brother, but I do and I will not feel right until I have helped right that wrong.”

Prince Roban laughed. “Jack, you are a better man than any of them. I would be proud to have you as a companion. We shall go adventuring together.”

True to his word next morning Prince Roban arrived with his hunters and a wagon for Jack to ride in.

“My Father wanted to send the whole army up there, but I persuaded him that it was wiser for just a small group to go and scout around. I would have preferred to go alone, but he insisted.”

Ingford was a week’s drive away. They made it in three days. Jack was exhausted and in pain from the jolting around in the wagon. He did try riding one of the spare horses, but that was even more painful for him. He was feeling very sore and miserable when they made camp a little way from the edge of the town.

Two of the hunters volunteered to scout round the town. They returned a few hours later with a scared looking man.

“Found him hiding in a bush on the edge of the town, “said one. “Gave himself away, his teeth were chattering so much.”

“Give him something to eat,” ordered Prince Roban. “I’ll talk to him later. Now let me have your report.”

“Nothing to report sire,” The hunter shrugged his shoulders. “The place is as quiet as a grave. No one out in the streets, no lights and no sign of either Black Knight or Witch, it is very odd.”

Jack gave the man some food and threw a blanket round his shoulders. By the time the man had eaten and warmed up, Prince Roban was ready to listen to him.

“My name is Walter. They came a few months back, the Witch, the Black Knight and some Shadow people. She said nothing would happen to us if we behaved ourselves. Some people tried to leave to get help from the King, but they disappeared. I think the Shadow people took them.  The Knight guarded the town in the day and the Shadow people at night.  But yesterday the Witch and the Shadow people just went. All that is left in town now is the Black Knight and he has gone mad. Until dark he was striding up and down the main road screaming and shouting and threatening to kill everyone. All the townsfolk hid in their houses, but I managed to sneak out.

“Who are the Shadow people?” asked Jack.

Walter shuddered and did not answer.

Prince Roban said, “No one is quite sure. They live somewhere up in the Mountain, or so it is said. They rarely bother people, but when they do………..” He shuddered. “Put it like this, they scare people to death. You really would not want to meet them.”

One of the hunters said, “I am surprised they did not kill the Witch. They are supposed to hate all living beings.”

Another one said. “She probably scares them more than they scare her.”

Prince Roban was puzzled, “But what did the Witch want with the people of Ingford, I wonder?”

Walter said,” We are only a small place, famous for making pots and pans. The Witch said that she had another job for us. She ordered everyone to make suits out of iron.”

“Armour?” asked the Prince.

“Not really, the stuff was too thin to stop a sword and any way the suits were far too narrow for any man to wear. Strangest thing of all were the helmets she had us make. They had no eye holes. Anyone wearing them would not be able to see a thing. When we had made a hundred of the suits she took them and, as I said, she left with the Shadow people.”

“Well, said the Prince, “It does get rid of one problem, if the Witch is not there. We have to move quickly though, she may come back. I will go into the town and look round for this Black Knight”

The hunters protested that it was not safe for him to go.

“It would be better if I went," said Jack. “We do not know if this Black Knight is the clockwork man and since I made him I am the only one who can recognise him. Please, I have to do this. And if he is just standing there maybe I can turn him off.”

Reluctantly Prince Roban agreed. Jack wrapped himself in a black cloak and set off into the town. Walter volunteered to go with him. Together they crept into the town along a filthy alley way. It led to the town square.  The Black Knight was stood unmoving in front of the Guild Hall. Jack started to leave the alley, but Walter pulled him back

“Watch!” he whispered. He picked up a stone from the floor and threw it across the square. It landed with a faint thud. Instantly the Knight turned towards the sound. Walter threw another stone. The Knight marched across to where it had landed with his sword raised. “If you had been there you would be dead now.”

Jack nodded and swallowed nervously. He whispered back. “I need to get closer though.“

The knight returned to its place in front of the Guild Hall and stood still. It looked as if it was staring down the road, waiting for something.

“If you stay in the shadows, you can get to the front of the Hall. If it starts to move I will throw another stone,” whispered Walter. “If you keep low and make no sound you should be safe. “

Jack nodded and waited until a cloud floated across the moon. He crept silently along. He smiled a twisted smile and thought “First time in my life that walking like I do is of any use.”

Each time the Moon came out from behind a cloud, Jack stood absolutely still, hardly even daring to breathe. When it went dark again he moved on. When he reached the Guild Hall he crouched down alongside the steps. He was completely in the shadow now, but he had a good view of the Knight.

When the moon shone again, Jack quickly scanned the Knight. He gave a gasp. The Knight turned towards the sound. Jack froze. There was a crash from the other side of the square. The knight turned quickly towards the sound. In the now bright moonlight, Jack had time to take a good hard look at the Knight’s back.

Jack had seen enough, but there were no more clouds in the sky now and there were no shadows in which he could hide. He was safe enough hidden by the steps, but he could not stay there until daylight. He was saved by a cat. It came out of a gap between two houses on the other side of the Square and padded along the edge of the buildings. The Knight marched towards it and raised its sword. The cat hissed and ran. The Knight followed it. Jack scuttled back to the alley where his townsman friend was waiting.

Without a word, they returned to the safety of the camp.

Title: Re: The Music Box
Post by: Palustris on February 04, 2014, 10:59:17 AM

Chapter 6

Endgame

 
Prince Roban and the hunters were delighted to see Jack return safe and well. He sat by the fire with a hot drink and a blanket thrown over his shoulders.

“It is my clockwork man,” reported Jack. "When the moonlight shone on him I recognised the armour. The Witch has not looked after him properly, there are patches of rust on his shoulders.”

“Could you get close enough to turn him off?” asked a hunter

Jack shook his head. “He seems to be able to hear even the slightest sound.”

Prince Roban said. “In that case I will have to go in and fight him.”

The hunters all shouted, “No sire!”

The chief hunter said, “If it is your brother’s brain inside the Knight, then it is going to be as good a swordsman as he was. And I am sorry, Your Highness, but you never could beat him.”

Prince Roban smiled ruefully. “True, Rogan was a lot better than me. So anyone else got any suggestions?”

“Best thing we could do is to push him into deep water," said Jack thoughtfully. “The water would probably stop the clockwork.”

Walter put in. “There is a river about half a mile outside the town gates, perhaps we could push him into it.”

“Hmmm,” said Prince Roban. “Is there a bridge or is it a ford?”

Walter answered proudly, “We built a bridge five years ago. It is only a wooden one, but it is better than having to go upstream and use the old ford.”

“Even better,” smiled Prince Roban. “I have an idea.”

Next morning Prince Roban led his party down to the Bridge. They worked there until midday. After some hastily prepared and eaten food they were ready to put Prince Roban’s plan into action.

“Remember," he warned. ”If this does not work then you are to get to the horses and return to my Father for help. No-one is to come rushing in to the rescue. That is an order. Do you all understand?”

Everyone nodded.

Jack and Walter took up their positions under the bridge. The hunters spread out along either side of the road from the town. Prince Roban drew his sword, closed the visor on his helmet and marched into the town.

The Black Knight stood facing the road in front of the Guild Hall. As soon as Prince Roban came through the gates it raised its sword and advanced to meet him. They met by the gates and the battle began. Roban allowed himself to be beaten back giving way before the Black Knights attack. The Black Knight followed attacking fiercely. Roban parried the sword thrusts and took many blows on his shield. He did manage to get a few in on the Knight himself, but they did not slow the attack down at all.

As they passed the hunters, they came out of hiding and closed in silently behind the fighting pair, bows at the ready. They had orders to shoot at the Black Knight if Prince Roban should fall.

Jack and Walter sat under the bridge, one on either side holding ropes. During the morning the hunters had cut a trapdoor in the floor of the bridge. It was their job to open the trap when the Black Knight was stood on  it.                                                                                                                                                                                                                       
 When he felt the wood of the bridge under his feet, Prince Roban turned and ran across. On the other side of the river he stopped. The Black Knight hesitated on the edge of the bridge. Below the bridge Jack held his breath and glanced across at Walter. He could see from there that the poor man was trembling and had bitten his lip so hard that blood ran down his chin. The hunters stood silently about 30 paces back from the fight.

            Prince Roban drew a deep shuddering breath and got ready to cross the bridge to begin again.

            “Noise!” shouted Jack from under the Bridge. “It follows sound. Make a noise!”

            The Black Knight turned towards where Jack was hiding under the Bridge. Quickly Prince Roban clashed his sword against his shield. The Black Knight turned to face him again. It still did not walk on to the Bridge. Prince Roban took one step forward and banged his shield even louder and shouted. The Black Knight raised its sword and charged.

            Jack and Walter pulled on their ropes as hard as they could. The trapdoor opened and with an almighty splash the Black Knight fell into the river.

            Jack and Walter scrambled to their feet and ran to the hunters for protection. Prince Roban stood by the Bridge looking into the river.

            Bubbles came up where the Black Knight had disappeared under the surface. Mud swirled around and streamed away down river.  Nobody moved for a full five minutes. The bubbles stopped. Jack heaved a sigh of relief. He began to walk towards the river. The hunters put away their bows. Walter sat down in the road and began to mop his chin. He was still trembling. Prince Roban lifted up the visor on his helmet.

            “That was………” he began to shout to his companions when the water swirled and the Black Knight walked out of the river. Water and mud sloshed off it on to the river bank. A piece of weed had lodged itself round the Knight’s helmet like green ribbon. Prince Roban barely had time to raise his shield before the Knight attacked.  His sword was swept from his grasp, by the fury of the Black Knights attack. His helmet went flying from another stroke. Finally his shield split in two from a mighty blow. Prince Roban dropped the useless thing and stood clutching his broken arm. The Black Knight raised his sword over his head.

            The hunters reached for their bows. Jack shouted “No, no, no, no!” Walter fainted.

            The sword began to come down on the unarmed helpless Prince. Then, before it reached the Prince’s bare head, it stopped.  For a second nobody moved, then Prince Roban grabbed his sword and ignoring his broken arm attacked the motionless Knight. Within a few minutes, he had reduced the clockwork man to a pile of metal. The sword he kicked away. Then Prince Roban fainted.

            On the other side of the river Jack collapsed as the pain in his back returned, worse than he had ever felt it before, ten time worse in fact. They later learnt that at the same time back at the Palace, the ice coffin shattered and Prince Rogan sat up and said. “Bit cold in here isn’t it?” The housemaid who was cleaning at the time fainted.

            With his arm splinted and the bruises and cuts tended to, Prince Roban and his friends were treated like heroes by the townspeople. Even Walter was, probably for the first time in his life, treated with respect. Jack missed all of the celebrations. The pain made him ill. Prince Roban came to see him.

            “I had not realised the destruction of the clockwork man would cause so much heartache for you,” he said gently.

            “It had to be done,” Jack replied.

            “We will get you home,” promised the Prince. “And I will send the finest doctors in the land to see if they can help”

            Jack travelled home slowly in the comfort of a soft bed in a large well sprung wagon. It did not make much difference to the pain he felt. At home he flung himself into the work on the King’s clock. He built it, took it to pieces, altered something and rebuilt it half a dozen times. He worked on it until his fingers bled and his head spun. All the time he was in terrible pain. True to his word the Prince sent Doctor after Doctor to see Jack. They shook their heads, one after the other and said that they were sorry, but there was nothing they could do.

            Eventually even he had to admit that the clock was as perfect as he could make it, just in time for the King’s birthday. The Prince was sent for to view the completed object.

            He was delighted with it. It was wrapped up and a footman carried it carefully to a waiting coach.

            Prince Roban stayed to talk to his friend. “I was up at Ingford this week, “he began. “We were chasing some outlaws and caught up with them by the Bridge. They were a sorry bunch and they surrendered without a fight. I gave them the choice of being hanged or joining the Army. They all chose to join up.”

 Jack forced a smile.

The Prince went on, “They told me that they used to live in the Mountains, making a living mostly from poaching and the occasional raid on a border town or wagon train. They said that they had only come South in to the Dark Forest because the Mountains were no longer safe. They could not tell my why they felt that way. Once they are trained we will send them back as patrols to keep an eye on the Mountains for me.”

“The Shadow people?” asked Jack.

“Possibly, “agreed the Prince. “However, that is not really what I wanted to talk about. Whilst I was there, the good folks of Ingford asked me to open their new bridge. The have replaced the one we sawed up with a fine new one. You would probably laugh, but there is a statue of Walter at one end holding the Black Knight’s sword. He is quite a local hero now. To hear him talk you would think he beat the Black Knight all on his own.”

Jack tried to laugh, but a wave of pain overcame him. For a long minute he could not speak nor move.

Prince Roban could think of nothing that he could do to help. He sat and waited until Jack was breathing a little easier.

“I searched the battle field while I was there. There is very little of the Knight left you know. It all seems to have rusted away except for this one lump. I picked it up for you.”

Prince Roban took out a lump of rusty metal from his tunic and put it on the Workbench. “A keepsake”, he said. Then seeing that Jack was tired, he took his leave and left.

After that Jack grew more and more weak and rarely went into the Workroom at all. He developed a fever which would not go away. On one of his good days, he dragged himself to his Workbench and sat on the stool. The effort exhausted him and for a long time he sat with his head in his hands. Once the dizziness stopped and the pain was manageable, he reached for the Music box. He opened it up and looked at the little ballet dancer lying on the small round stage.

As much to her as to himself he said, “I would have loved to have seen you dance, just once.”

His eye fell on the lump of rusty metal still on the bench where Prince Roban had put it. He picked it up and examined it through his eyeglass. He picked up a tool form the rack in front of him and began chipping away at the rust. Once the surface layer was cleaned off, he turned the object this way and that. His eyes opened wide. Hastily he picked up a small hammer and an equally small chisel. Delicately he broke open the lump. He gave a quiet cry of joy. “The heart, he murmured. “It is the heart.” With trembling fingers he broke the last lump of rust apart. There nestling amid the ruins was a spring. It was as thin as a human hair. He gently lifted it up with a pair of tweezers. It shone brightly.

He reached for the music box. He had to stop for five minutes until the pain and dizziness went away. It was the work of a few moments to unscrew the workings of the box and to fit the tiny spring. He put it back together and wound the key, ten times as the Witch had said, all that time ago.

He lifted the lid. The tiny dancer stood up and as the music played she began to dance, just for Jack.

When the music stopped, Jack was in tears. He felt too ill to close the lid. His head drooped and he drifted off into unconsciousness.

 

Title: Re: The Music Box
Post by: Palustris on February 05, 2014, 11:56:01 AM

Chapter 7

Annie.

 
Annie found herself stood in a small room. She looked round curiously. It was obviously some sort of Workroom. In front of the only window was a Workbench. Sitting at the bench was a small hunched up figure, with its head resting on the table top. Annie began to walk across to the figure when she stumbled. She had forgotten about her short leg. “But I was dancing,” she said. She looked down at her clothes. She was wearing a ballet dancers dress.

Then it all came back to her. The Witch had turned her into a ballet dancer, but not in the way Annie had wanted. The spell the Witch had said came back to her “A dancer you will stay until the music is started and stopped again, by a man in constant pain.”

            Annie walked across to the man at the work bench. Timidly she touched his shoulder. Through his thin shirt she could feel the heat from his fever. The door of the Work room opened and a man came in. Without thinking Annie said, “This poor man is very ill, he must be put to bed immediately. “

            Miya’s mother stopped here and said. “There is very little else to tell really. Annie nursed Jack until he was well again. She made the Pain medicine which she had learnt when she was in the Witch’s cottage. They fell in love and were married the following year.”

            “And lived happily ever after?” asked a sleepy Miya.

            “No one lives for ever my love, but yes they were happy.” Miya’s mother leant over and gave her daughter a kiss on the forehead. “Now you go off to sleep and dream of the time when you can tell this story to your daughter.”

            “What happened to the Witch and the Shadow people? They won’t come here will they?” Miya was a bit worried.

            “Now that is another story from long before I was born and not one for telling at night. But no the Shadow people have not been seen for nearly a 100 years,” said Miya’s mother. She stood and went to the door.

            “Mum,” called Miya. “What was Granana’s name?”

            Miya’s mother turned back. “Why Annie, of course, Annie Cranklin.”