lallis_folly (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lallis_folly) wrote2007-06-29 01:33 pm
lallis_folly) wrote2007-06-29 01:33 pm
A Brillig Morn
Okay, this is silly, but just what we need for a Friday.
"'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe."
Oh, yes, I remember it well, that Brillig morning. The toves were gyring and gimbling, all right, and some of them were pretty darned slithy. The slithiest, though, and the one I had my eye set on, was called Srida. I felt fortunate that she had her eye set on me, too.
Her father, though, was another matter. As far as he was concerned, I wasn't good enough for his slithy daughter. Hadn't proved myself yet, he said. For all he knew, I was just a mimsy borogove and he wouldn't have a borogove for his daughter. He should've known better: I never went anywhere near the borogoves. I preferred to have my feet on solid ground; no head in the clouds dreaming for me. Except about Srida.
So...this morning in Brillig, I asked my father's advice. How could I win Srida? No, that's not right. As far as Srida and I were concerned, she was won. How could I win over her father?
A trophy, my father said. Something to prove that I was beamish, not mimsy. He told me to stay away from all kinds of ridiculous things, even the Bandersnatch. Frumious, he called her, the old witch who lived at the edge of the tulgey wood. Frumious? Her? She was more mimsy than all the borogoves put together.
Feeling pretty frumious myself, I grabbed my sword -- yes, the vorpal one that you've seen displayed in the town hall -- and decided to bring back the head of the Jabberwock, that manxome creature who had terrorized the town for generations.
I stalked into the tulgey wood, right past the cottage of the supposedly-frumious Bandersnatch who sat in her garden shelling toops. She wheezed at me as I passed, waving a gnarled hand after me.
I suppose I could have asked her for a charm to protect me against the Jabberwock's fierce jaws and catching claws, but -- as I said before -- I was feeling frumious, and caution didn't enter into it.
All day long, I stalked the tulgey wood, but I could not find the manxome creature. I found signs of him, of course: bribbles, plossets and once, even, a half-eaten Jubjub, but no Jabberwock. And then, as I was leaning against a tree, taking a bit of a rest, I heard a faint burbling, then, whiff! whiff! whiff! the Jabberwock burst from cover right before me.
My sword practically leaped into my hand, and before the creature could react to my presence, I charged it. Snicker-snack! Snicker-snack! One, two! One, two! Dead it fell at my feet, and its head I presented to Srida's father.
Well, after that, there was no way he could deny me; Srida and I were wed at last. Fifty Brilligs have come and gone since then, but there were never any more Jabberwock attacks. Perhaps it was the last of its kind. Or perhaps yonder skull warns away any others.
You raths go outgrabe now! I can't sit around spinning stories all day -- there's work to do!
"'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe."
Oh, yes, I remember it well, that Brillig morning. The toves were gyring and gimbling, all right, and some of them were pretty darned slithy. The slithiest, though, and the one I had my eye set on, was called Srida. I felt fortunate that she had her eye set on me, too.
Her father, though, was another matter. As far as he was concerned, I wasn't good enough for his slithy daughter. Hadn't proved myself yet, he said. For all he knew, I was just a mimsy borogove and he wouldn't have a borogove for his daughter. He should've known better: I never went anywhere near the borogoves. I preferred to have my feet on solid ground; no head in the clouds dreaming for me. Except about Srida.
So...this morning in Brillig, I asked my father's advice. How could I win Srida? No, that's not right. As far as Srida and I were concerned, she was won. How could I win over her father?
A trophy, my father said. Something to prove that I was beamish, not mimsy. He told me to stay away from all kinds of ridiculous things, even the Bandersnatch. Frumious, he called her, the old witch who lived at the edge of the tulgey wood. Frumious? Her? She was more mimsy than all the borogoves put together.
Feeling pretty frumious myself, I grabbed my sword -- yes, the vorpal one that you've seen displayed in the town hall -- and decided to bring back the head of the Jabberwock, that manxome creature who had terrorized the town for generations.
I stalked into the tulgey wood, right past the cottage of the supposedly-frumious Bandersnatch who sat in her garden shelling toops. She wheezed at me as I passed, waving a gnarled hand after me.
I suppose I could have asked her for a charm to protect me against the Jabberwock's fierce jaws and catching claws, but -- as I said before -- I was feeling frumious, and caution didn't enter into it.
All day long, I stalked the tulgey wood, but I could not find the manxome creature. I found signs of him, of course: bribbles, plossets and once, even, a half-eaten Jubjub, but no Jabberwock. And then, as I was leaning against a tree, taking a bit of a rest, I heard a faint burbling, then, whiff! whiff! whiff! the Jabberwock burst from cover right before me.
My sword practically leaped into my hand, and before the creature could react to my presence, I charged it. Snicker-snack! Snicker-snack! One, two! One, two! Dead it fell at my feet, and its head I presented to Srida's father.
Well, after that, there was no way he could deny me; Srida and I were wed at last. Fifty Brilligs have come and gone since then, but there were never any more Jabberwock attacks. Perhaps it was the last of its kind. Or perhaps yonder skull warns away any others.
You raths go outgrabe now! I can't sit around spinning stories all day -- there's work to do!