[Fanfiction]: Story Time
May. 22nd, 2015 06:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cheshirejin posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
nordipalooza
Norway took a seat on the bench in the garden, patting the seat beside him for Sealand to come sit with him. He didn't mind having the micronation over to visit, he was at a bit of a loss over what to do to entertain him though.
"What should do you want to do today?" he finally asked.
Sealand thought a moment, "We could go inside and play video games?"
"No, Denmark's games are off limits and you hate my strategy games."
He had a nice game console, but he didn't have any video games appropriate for a young person to play, and he wasn't about to turn the child loose with one of the glorified blood-fests that Denmark loved to play, or Naughty Bear, ugh, just no to that.
"Okay, then you could tell me a story," Sealand's smile was way too wide, sure Norway would never agree, and would cave and let him play one of Denmark's games instead. He didn't know who he was dealing withthough, Norway had been practicing his story telling; specifically to annoy his recently found to be brother Iceland with, for weeks.
"A story it is then," Norway agreed with a nod, turning to sit more straight on the bench. Taking a breath,and letting it out in a sigh, he started his tale.
"Once upon a time, on the icy fjords of Norway, there lived a farmer and his family."
"But if he was on the fjords why wasn't he fishing?" Sealand interrupted.
"Sealand, men cannot live on fish without other foods and the farmer was a wise man who knew that, are you going to let me tell this story or not? It was your own idea after all."
Sealand nodded, looking less than enthused.
"Now, the farmer was a hard worker as was the rest of his family and they managed to scrape out a decent living, selling their vegetables and grains to the nearby fishing villages. The farmer's wife gained a reputation for her hospitality and kindness, for letting travelers stay overnight in their shed and sending them off in the morning with a meal and well wishes. They were well liked and none of the local people ever had a problem with them.
“That was the puzzling part, for one day the farmer's wife went out to milk their cow and found part of the barnyard fence was torn down. They couldn't figure out what happened, but it looked like something big had knocked it over and since the cow was out in the yard they guessed she had gotten spooked by something and knocked it over. No more thought went into it than that as they rounded up the cow and their goats, and repairs were made to the fence. Then a few nights later, several bales of hay fell out of the loft, breaking open on the barn floor. A few days after that and something scared the chickens in the hen house so bad that they didn't lay eggs for another three days. The farmer was suspecting that someone was pulling pranks on them, but he never saw any sign of a person around the farm besides their family. Nothing happened again for a while and it was all but forgotten.
“Then one evening a traveler came through and stopped asking for a place to sleep. The farmer's wife quickly made a bed of straw in the woodshed for him and wished him a good rest, before returning to the house for the night.
“The traveler sat in the woodshed, waiting to see the lights go out in the house. He was a peddler by trade, but also a thief, intent on stealing anything he could find on the farm and then selling it off in the next town. He had heard rumors of how well the farmer was doing, selling his vegetables, and he was sure there would be all sorts of expensive trinkets inside the house.
“The back door cracked open and a small figure quietly walked out, one of the farmer's young children. He carried a bowl with him as he walked carefully to the barn. The peddler assumed it was milk or cream he was sneaking to a stray cat. After a bit the child returned to the house and the peddler waited for the lights to go out.
“He waited patiently, searching for and finding a good piece of wood among the chords in the shed he was in to use to knock any of the farmer's family unconscious if he had to. After the lights had been off for a long while and no sounds had come from the house, he made his move. He quietly snuck across the yard toward the back door to the house.
He was normally a little nervous when entering a house he wasn't familiar with, but this time he could feel his breath get short and his hair standing on end . He paused to calm his nerves, but it didn't help, it felt as if something were breathing warm air down the back of his neck. Gripping his makeshift club a bit tighter, he stepped forward once again, only to find himself suddenly lifted off the ground and tossed back across the yard. His pulse pounded in his throat as he looked back where he had been and could just make out a huge shadowy form in the waning moonlight. He leapt to his feet and ran away as fast as he could, no one ever found out what happened to him after that.
“In the morning, the farmer found the peddler was gone, but had left a gift behind, a sack that contained some jewelry for his wife and a nice pocket watch for him. Being kind to strangers sure did pay off.
“Later that evening the farmer's youngest son got the real story of what happened from the tonte troll that he had befriended, being young enough to still see magical creatures. He had been feeding the tonte ever since it accidentally tripped over the fence and decided to stay in the hay loft and keep foxes from the hen house and burglars from the farm in repayment for the troubles."
"What kind of story is that?" Sealand asked, confused.
"The story shows that everyone will see things differently depending on their own point of view," Norway answered with a small smile. "Besides, it is a favorite of an old friend of mine," he said, fondly patting the air next to him.
"You're creeping me out," said Sealand, "I think I need to go home now."
"Tell Sve I said hallo when you see him," Norway called after him, guessing that was who the little nation wannabe was going to bug next.
"Well, I thought it was a good story, maybe I should have told the one about the hudra instead," he mused to his troll friend, who was sitting next to him on the ground and nodding in agreement.
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Date: 2015-05-24 02:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-04 09:39 pm (UTC)