The Ballads of The Skeleton Crew

The Ballad of Two Brothers (5|3)

(№5.3)

Miraculous and curious how time were to shift and run in front of your face depending on your state of mind and how darkly or gravely your emotions would fuel the speed, how accelerating a bare hour could become just like tautened sutures would bite your skin when having had surgery performed by one of those toothless forms always found at a market pricing their pathetic skills like the purest gold goblets who - like them of course - in truth were only superficially golden painted. What a lie, what deception all these three things bound together were.

His bold steps echoed from every inclined house wall, hollowed and vibrated together with the trees stuck by a breeze in harmnoy, as he elegantly made his way back to the palace to not miss spending the most important meal of the day with his brother.

Who he now was advised to kill, piercing his heart with one strong heartedly blow. His breath came forced at the thought of such dastardly deed, his eyes squinted in denial, as his heart beckoned him to consider, already befriended with the idea.

Rotten, vile, base, malign, primal, that's what these treacherous thoughts popping in his head were, how he even dared to contemplate... It made him violently sick. Such stupidity to believe even a word from this witch, a loving gaze or any caress she ever performed mere measures to adorn his loving, naïve heart.

Faster than he actually wished for, he had reached the stables and found himself deliberately picking the finest and crispiest apples for his favourite and beloved horses. The fruits could only be refreshing, strengthening and saturating, a standard lower than this would simply not be accepted. After all, there was a saying going on about how a good red apple could make you see the strangest things and even make you fall down into a hole towards wondrous, magical lands even, improving stamina and prolonging life besides. The thirst for apples should always be taken by most serial competence.

Especially when owning a herd of oriental black horses, brought to their land under the most hardest and heroic conditions as creatures like these could not be tamed by violence and enforcement, yet rather by choice and alike wilderness sensed in the new owner.

These horses were strong and slender, viciously free and of intricately brutal beauty. Every step, even every sigh they took through their muscular nostrils was a display of power and unbound might and the visible shifting of hand thick muscles that strikingly moved under their jet black skin spoke of unmatched force and incredible speed. Every other four-hooved comparison appalled and dulled when presented next to them. Even so, posing to these wise giants that stood over even his tall head in withers which could, according to spontaneous mood, take a crusty bite out of your shoulder and the matter of befriending would be resolved. Most humans even failed to claim the grandest straws when standing next to such extricate beauty, simply paling in comparison.

As he approached, sword gently leaning against the wall of the prosperous stable only constructed for the harsh winters they were not used to, yet never actually used for they were born surrounded by the elements and they intended to die like such, their eyes were constantly following his slow and conscious trail almost evasively. They didn't shine with friendliness, but also not exactly with dislike or worse hunger. The flock of horses would tolerate him as long as any strange weapon of his would be out of reach, for many of their kin had been slain and maimed by mankind's blade and the intellectual horses wouldn't take any chances now.

How poetic they grazed near the aquamarine linden trees shivering under the caress of the wind, just as effortlessly as they would dash over strange soil, just how their hooves ought to glide over smooth sand dunes with the sun leading their sprint.

He hugged six fresh apples in total which he dispersed to them quietly, almost not daring to respire. The powerful horses devoured the apples with almighty, always-present hunger, their muscles demanded to be fed and they appreciated his respect and humbling attitude, so they refrained - as per usual - to gobble up his hand while it still clasped around the fruit.