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#1 Laufey

Posted 13 September 2011 - 05:12 PM

Vadrak Dekaras And The Three Little Pigs

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, an assassin was carefully measuring a batch of newly brewed poison into several small glass vials. It was quite late, past midnight, and through the window of his room he could see a sky of purest black, dotted with just a few stars, and the formless shapes of the treetops in the garden.

Concentrating to the utmost, the assassin went on with his work, careful not to spill a drop. All was silent in the large mansion, even the many servants gone to their beds. All was quiet. All was peaceful. All was…

The assassin suddenly cocked his head to one side, and gave a brief sigh. Shaking his head a little ruefully, he rose, adjusted his night robe, and headed for the door, his feet making no sound. He paused briefly, and then counted to himself.

One…two…three!

At that, he suddenly opened the door, to look down at a small dark-haired boy standing in front of him, hand still raised as if to knock. The child blinked with surprise, then fidgeted a little with his long and very lacy nightshirt. “Teacher Dekaras? I…”

Dekaras raised a hand, and young Edwin Odesseiron fell instantly silent, a feat that would have amazed quite a few people. “A moment, boy,” the assassin said in a thoughtful voice. “Allow me to attempt to make a deduction about the reason for this urgent visit of yours.”

Edwin nodded eagerly. “Yes, Teacher Dekaras! Dedu…ded…dedy…”

“Deduction, Edwin. To look at all the facts, and interpret them correctly, using logic. Now, let us review the events of this evening so far, shall we? And you’d better come in, this may take a while.”

He stepped aside, allowing the child in, and Edwin eagerly crossed the threshold, goggling at all the items of the room he was only very rarely allowed into, and only ever under careful supervision.

“Now then,” Dekaras went on, his sharp face intently focused, “let me think. Sit in that chair Edwin – no, don’t touch that. No, don’t touch that either. And no, certainly not that, it is quite sharp. As I said, let me think. You first came here telling me you were thirsty. And what did I tell you?”

Edwin thought about this. “To get something to drink?”

“Exactly. And then, you returned, an hour later…to urgently inform me of needing to visit the bathroom. And what did I tell you then?”

“Um…that if I didn’t know my way to the bathroom by now, you would draw me a map in the morning.”

“Just so. I trust you did manage to locate it?”

“Yes, Teacher Dekaras.”

“Very good. An hour later, on the minute, you returned – with the request that I hunt down and dispose of a goblin hiding under your bed.”

“Um, see, I was…”

“Very naughty indeed to pilfer your mother’s summoning wand like that. Goblins are not children’s toys, Edwin, not even small goblins. And it is not nice at all to dress one up in a ‘Elminster the Archmage’ outfit and practise your cantrips on it. No wonder the poor creature was hiding, after all that.”

“Well, I…”

“So, now I wonder what the most recent errand might be,” Dekaras mused, with a faintly amused glint in his black eyes. “Might it be that you have some trouble sleeping, perhaps?”

Edwin’s mouth dropped open. “Yes! I’ve tried, and I’ve tried, and I’ve tried, but the more I try the less I can sleep, and now I can’t sleep at all, and it’s all so boring, and I’ve read all my books lots of times, and I thought…”

“Yes?” The assassin asked, not unkindly.

The boy blushed a little, looking at his bare toes. “IonlythoughtI’d askifmaybeyoucouldtellmeastoryifyou’re nottoobusybutIguessyouareandI’llgonowandsorryforbotheringyouand…”

Once again, Dekaras raised a hand, to break off the rapid flow of words. “Breathe, boy. Breathe. Hm…yes, why not. Yes, I can tell you a story, I am finished here anyway. And that was what you wanted all along, wasn’t it? A story to help you sleep?”

“Er…yes, Teacher Dekaras. Would you? Please?”

“Oh yes, I suppose so. Next time, ask directly – and don’t think you need to summon goblins to attract my attention. Now, let me think…what kind of story should we pick?”

“Oooh, I know!” Edwin squealed, bouncing up and down on his chair. “Wizards! Wizards and dragons, and hungry big dragons, red dragons that breathe lots of fire and eat any stupid old knight who comes by, and eat all the princesses who are stupid and scream all the time and…”

“Actually,” Dekaras remarked, “this is a story about pigs.”

Edwin’s face fell. “Pigs? What’s so interesting about pigs?”

“Pigs,” Dekaras went on, “And a wolf.”

Edwin frowned. “A wolf is good…better than pigs.” He looked suspicious. “Teacher Dekaras? This isn’t a kissing story, is it?”

The assassin gave him a long, slow look. “You do not approve of ‘kissing stories’, I take it?”

“They have princesses in them. Princesses are icky!”

“I shall keep that in mind,” Dekaras gravely said. “And no, there are no princesses in this story, not a single one. Now, do you want to hear it or not?”

Edwin nodded eagerly.

“Good. Now, once upon a time there were three little pigs, and since they did not particularly care to be slaughtered and eaten, the regular fate of pigs, they all set out to seek their fortunes. Before they left, their mother…”

“Was she a pig too?”

”Yes, Edwin. Pigs are born from pigs, you know that. I hope you weren’t expecting a princess. Anyway, their mother told them ‘Children, whatever you do, do it the best way you can, because that is the way to get ahead in the world.’ An admirable sentiment, I think, one you would do well to keep in mind the next time you attempt to avoid doing your homework by having an ogre eat it.”

“But there really was an ogre!”

“Yes, I know. And though this may surprise you; that did not make me happier. Well, on with the story.” The assassin tapped his long fingers against the armrest of his chair, thinking. “Ah, yes. The first little pig, being not only lazy but also remarkably trusting and naïve, not to mention ignorant of how many creatures are fond of pork, built himself a house from straw. The second pig, being slightly more energetic, built one from sticks. And the final one, who was his mother’s favourite, and a very annoying little know-it-all, built a house from bricks, that was very sturdy and strong indeed.”

“All right…still no princesses, right? What of the wolf? I like wolves.”

Dekaras nodded. “Yes, the wolf. Wolves, much like humans, enjoy pork. And so this wolf, who was rather hungry, learnt of the three little pigs and their sloppy construction work. First, he went to see the little pig who lived in the straw house. Now, this wolf I’m afraid had a rather theatrical streak, so rather than simply silently waltzing into the house, he decided on a bit of melodrama.” The assassin made a small grimace of disgust. “So, the wolf called out to the pig, and said ‘Little pig, little pig, I am Death Come For Thee. Let me in, let me in, or I’ll huff and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down on the count of three!’”

Edwin’s eyes were big and round by now. “Woooowwwww…” he breathed.

“All very melodramatic, as I said,” Dekaras said with a shrug. “Well, the pig, who also had a fondness for speaking in ludicrous verse, said ‘Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin, I taste good but I’ll never be eaten by thee!’”

There was a pause, during which Edwin entirely forgot to breathe.

“And then,” Dekaras went on, “the wolf, who was far too fond of dramatic gestures for his own good, took a deep breath, blow the flimsy house down, and ate the pig.”

Edwin nodded. “But the wolf wanted the second pig too, didn’t he?”

“Very astute, my boy. Yes, so he did. Because he was a rather greedy wolf, and never quite knew when to stop. So, he went to the house of the second little pig, the one made from sticks. Once again he spoke his silly verse, which I will not repeat since it might make a few large blood vessels in my brain spontaneously burst, and I trust you do not wish me to end up as a vegetable. The pig gave the same asinine reply as his brother, and once again, the wolf proved that though his sense of discretion was underdeveloped, his lung capacity was excellent. The second pig when the way of the first.”

Edwin was smiling broadly. “Then what?”

“Then, the wolf turned into a lovely princess, kissed the third little pig straight on the snout so he turned into a nauseatingly dashing and heroic prince, and they lived happily ever after.”

“Wha…no! You PROMISED no princesses! And no kissing! You can’t do kissing!”

The assassin raised an eyebrow. “Oh, can’t I? Who is telling the story, you or I, hm?”

“Uh, you are. But…”

“Oh, very well. You want the tragically bloody ending, do you?”

“Yes, please, Teacher Dekaras!”

”And that will help you sleep better, will it? Are you entirely sure?”

“Yes, Teacher Dekaras! I want to hear the end of the story, please! Pleeeeease?” Edwin’s eyes went very large, and pleading.

“Oh, very well. The other ending it is. The wolf was still not satisfied, of course. Two pigs wasn’t enough for him – he wanted more, for he was little more than a foolish young cub, who knew very little of restraint. So he went to the house of the third little pig, the house made from bricks, and once again tried his paw at impressive poetry. The third pig was about as impressed as his brothers, and refused to open the door. Once again, the wolf attempted to repeat his previously successful strategy of being as loud as possible. But bricks are stronger than sticks or straw, and he couldn’t blow down the brick house. Inside, he could hear the third little pig, cheering and jeering. ‘Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf’, the fat little creature was singing again and again. I believe there was dancing as well.”

“Stupid pig,” Edwin muttered. “How did the wolf get him? I mean, the wolf does get him right?”

Dekaras didn’t answer the question. “Of course,” he said, “there is no such thing as an invulnerable target, or an impenetrable fortress. The wolf decided to rethink his strategy, and decided to use the chimney as a point of entrance. Not a bad idea as such, but unfortunately he was a young and inexperienced wolf, as I said, and not particularly skilled at climbing roofs. He made quite a bit of noise, and the pig heard him, and made his own plans. As the young wolf slid down the chimney, he found a lit fireplace with a cauldron of boiling water waiting for him, and he shot straight out of the chimney, screaming and howling and ran far, far away. The third little pig danced and sang ‘Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?’ again and again, and then he proudly went to tell his mother of what had happened, apparently totally uncaring of the fate of his brothers. His mother encouraged him, and repeated her advice, saying, ‘There, I told you so. The way to get ahead in the world is to do things the very best way you can.’”

Edwin pouted. “Aw…that’s a really bad ending, I wanted pork…”

“And then,” Dekaras went on, “the pig went on his way home, and promptly stepped straight into a pit that had been dug in the middle of the road, cleverly concealed with branches and leaves, and that had several sharp stakes at the bottom.” The assassin smiled then, a rather lupine smile, his eyes glittering a little with amusement. “Because, you see, wolves have parents as well, who like to do things the very best way that they can, as well as to protect their offspring, and the really Big Bad Wolf does not bother with huffing and puffing.”
Rogues do it from behind.

#2 Guest_Jeannette_*

Posted 14 September 2011 - 02:34 PM

Laufey, this version of the three little pigs was just wonderful! I've always enjoyed your "little Edwin" stories tremendously and this one is no exception. I heard a few echos of the grandpa from "the Princess Bride" in Dekaras and it worked very well. I chuckled my way though this and am about to read it again. It's terrific!

#3 Guest_Blue-Inked_Frost_*

Posted 17 September 2011 - 10:31 AM

Aww, cuteness! :) The sarcastic tone of the retelling was fun.

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, an assassin was carefully measuring a batch of newly brewed poison into several small glass vials.


What an uncommon opener for an innocent fairy tale. :)

Concentrating to the utmost, the assassin went on with his work, careful not to spill a drop. All was silent in the large mansion, even the many servants gone to their beds. All was quiet. All was peaceful. All was…


Not a creature was stirring, not even a child with inadequate sneakiness skills?

“Now then,” Dekaras went on, his sharp face intently focused, “let me think. Sit in that chair Edwin – no, don’t touch that. No, don’t touch that either. And no, certainly not that, it is quite sharp. As I said, let me think. You first came here telling me you were thirsty. And what did I tell you?”


Something tells me there's a reason why Edwin's not usually allowed in there.

“Very naughty indeed to pilfer your mother’s summoning wand like that. Goblins are not children’s toys, Edwin, not even small goblins. And it is not nice at all to dress one up in a ‘Elminster the Archmage’ outfit and practise your cantrips on it. No wonder the poor creature was hiding, after all that.”


'practise your cantrips'--this part of the story made me think that Edwin was doing the Faerunian equivalent of torturing animals as a child, though I know that probably wasn't your intent. Faerun in general does not have a very good record of treatment of random 'monsters'!

Edwin frowned. “A wolf is good…better than pigs.” He looked suspicious. “Teacher Dekaras? This isn’t a kissing story, is it?”


Princess Bride, I see. :D

Dekaras nodded. “Yes, the wolf. Wolves, much like humans, enjoy pork. And so this wolf, who was rather hungry, learnt of the three little pigs and their sloppy construction work. First, he went to see the little pig who lived in the straw house. Now, this wolf I’m afraid had a rather theatrical streak, so rather than simply silently waltzing into the house, he decided on a bit of melodrama.” The assassin made a small grimace of disgust. “So, the wolf called out to the pig, and said ‘Little pig, little pig, I am Death Come For Thee. Let me in, let me in, or I’ll huff and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down on the count of three!’”


Hello, Nimbulwolf!

“Oh, very well. The other ending it is. The wolf was still not satisfied, of course. Two pigs wasn’t enough for him – he wanted more, for he was little more than a foolish young cub, who knew very little of restraint. So he went to the house of the third little pig, the house made from bricks, and once again tried his paw at impressive poetry. The third pig was about as impressed as his brothers, and refused to open the door. Once again, the wolf attempted to repeat his previously successful strategy of being as loud as possible. But bricks are stronger than sticks or straw, and he couldn’t blow down the brick house. Inside, he could hear the third little pig, cheering and jeering. ‘Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf’, the fat little creature was singing again and again. I believe there was dancing as well.”

“Stupid pig,” Edwin muttered.


How unwise to gloat! I'm sure Edwin would never make that mistake.

“And then,” Dekaras went on, “the pig went on his way home, and promptly stepped straight into a pit that had been dug in the middle of the road, cleverly concealed with branches and leaves, and that had several sharp stakes at the bottom.” The assassin smiled then, a rather lupine smile, his eyes glittering a little with amusement. “Because, you see, wolves have parents as well, who like to do things the very best way that they can, as well as to protect their offspring, and the really Big Bad Wolf does not bother with huffing and puffing.”


Alas, sapient wolves truly have a carnivore's dilemma in a world with equally sapient pigs; and most would like to have someone to support them no matter what they come to do later in life.




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