Fraggle Fic: A Wandering Heart

[Slackbot]

Here's the latest report on my Fraggle breeding program, and it's titled...

*****

A Wandering Heart
Part 1: Rainy Day
by Kim McFarland​

*****

It was a dark and stormy day. Despite being cave dwellers the Fraggles were aware of this, because a column of rain was falling through the well in the Gorgs' garden and into the pond in the Great Hall in the cavern below. Fraggles loved water, whether flowing or falling, and they cheerfully incorporated this novel element into their water games.

Janken was sitting on the arch, watching the Fraggles in the pond. He felt no urge to join in. He had swum earlier that day, and just didn't feel like doing it again. Before long the entertainment value of watching others splash around wore thin, and he walked down the arch and away.

Hands in the pockets of his yellow sweater, he wandered toward the cave that his mother Mokey, and his aunt Red shared. En route he met Mokey in the tunnel. She was leading her seven-year-old daughter Sage by the hand. Sage was a ball of bluish-green fur like Boober, her father, but much more energetic and cheerful. "Janjanjan!" she called.

He said, "Hi, Sage! Where're you two going?"

"I'm going to get a radish for dinner, and Sage is going to help me select just the right one," Mokey answered.

Sage told him, "Papa wants a big one, but it needs to fit in the oven. Just this big." She held her hands wide apart.

"That big, huh? Can I help carry it?"

"I can carry it by myself!" she declared.

"I could use your help getting some for the pantry," Mokey answered.

They never actually needed him to gather radishes, he knew, but it was always a good idea to have extra food on hand. "It's raining out," he said conversationally as they walked up the tunnel.

"Oh, well," Mokey said, trying to look cheerful, but Janken could tell she didn't want to go out in the rain. No Fraggle minded getting wet, but mud was another matter.

**

The three of them stopped before they went out into the garden. Mokey and Janken removed their sweaters, as fur dries faster than clothing and is easier to clean. Sage was wearing only the feathers, flowers, and other decorations she stuck in her braided hair. They left their clothes just inside the tunnel, then went out into the garden.

The rain was coming down in heavy drops, quickly plastering their hair down and soaking their fur. It was a warm rain, though, so they were comfortable. As expected, the loose soil of the garden had become mud, which splattered up onto them as the raindrops struck. Worse, their feet stuck in deep mud puddles, which sucked at their feet and made it hard to walk.

Mokey said to her daughter, "You know what kind of radish Boober wants. Pick out a good one for us."

Sage splished about in the mud, inspecting the radishes one by one. She found a large one that she liked, and held out her arms, comparing it to the size Boober wanted. It was easily triple that. Janken watched with amusement as she gazed longingly at it for a moment longer, then regretfully moved on. He would have picked it himself, but it was too big for one Fraggle to carry.

A little further down Sage found a radish that she approved of. She said to Mokey, "Let's get this one, Mama!"

"All right. Pick it," Mokey answered.

Sage put her arms around it and tried to lift. Her feet sank into the mud. Janken was about to help her when the radish suddenly came loose. She stumbled, fell over backwards, and landed in the mud with a squelchy plop. The radish still clutched to her chest, she said, "Ewwwww!"

Both Janken and Mokey grinned as they helped her up. Her back and the back of her head were completely coated with mud. Mokey said, "Never mind, the rain will wash that away."

"Yeah," Janken said as he tugged at another radish. It resisted. He pulled hard, careful not to repeat his sister's performance. After a minute the radish worked loose, and he began dragging it through the mud by its greens.

They brought the radishes to the entrance of Fraggle Rock, then stood and waited for the rain to wash the mud off of them and the vegetables. Sage and Mokey did their best to work the mud out of her hair and fur. Janken said to Mokey, "I still haven't decided what job I want."

"You don't have to rush," Mokey told him. "You help me bring radishes from the garden, and you help Boober gather what he needs for his home remedies and do the laundry, and you explore with Gobo and his uncle Matt, and you help other people. It's not like you're sitting around doing nothing."

He sighed. "I keep busy, but, well, it's like I'm just copying other people. I'm not doing anything that's me."

Sympathetically she said, "I see what you mean. Have you asked The Trash Heap for advice?"

He shrugged. "I know what she'd tell me to do. Sort it out for myself. And she'd be right. I need to decide what I'm going to be. I just don't have any clue what that is yet."

She patted his back, splat splat on his wet fur. "Don't worry, I know you'll find something that's just perfect for you if you just keep looking."

**

When the three were clean again they entered the passageway. Mokey and Janken carried the radish Janken had picked, as it was a large one, and Sage carried her prize, which was bigger around than she was, by herself.

Mokey and Janken placed the big radish in the pantry, and Sage hustled over to Boober's kitchen, calling out "Papa Boober! I got your radish!"

"That's perfect," he told her as she set it on the cutting block in the center of the room. Seeing how wet she was, he asked, "Did it grow in the swimming hole?"

"It was raining. We got all muddy, so we stayed outside until the rain cleaned us and the radishes off again," she explained.

"Oh, okay."

"Bye," the little girl said, and ran out to the great hall. If she was already soaked through, she was going to do some swimming!

Janken dodged out of his little sister's way, then entered the kitchen. "Hi. Need an extra pair of hands?"

"Sure. You could chop these up," Boober said, pointing with a knife at some wild onions on the cutting block. "Bulbs and greens both."

"Okay." While Janken got another knife Boober took out a deep pan. He placed the radish in it and began peeling the reddish-pink skin in strips, giving it a striped appearance. He was finished by the time Janken had chopped up the onions. "What else?" Janken asked.

"I've got everything else ready," Boober said as he mixed the onions with some other dried, chopped herbs and drizzled them on the radish. "Oh, you could bring that to Red."

Janken looked in the direction Boober nodded. It was a small pitcher with a cup for a lid. He glanced inside. Blueberry juice. "Sure. She'll like this."

"And make sure she's resting. If she isn't, come get me."

"I will," Janken promised.

**

Janken went into Red and Mokey's cave. It was also partially his home; he had spaces to sleep in all of his parents' caves. That had been fun when he was little, always having the choice of where to spend the night, and they all welcomed him, but lately it was starting to feel kind of... well, childish, not having a place of his own.

Red was asleep in her bed on the floor, curled around Poncle, her week-old daughter. She had had to give up her comfortable hammock last winter, when her pregnancy started throwing her balance off. The increasing risk of a nighttime spill wasn't worth it, and Boober had ordered her to sleep in a more stable bed. As uncomfortable as it was to lie on a bed on the ground, she had to admit he was right. Even if it hadn't become a problem when she was pregnant, there was no question of risking sleeping in a hammock with a baby.

Janken was debating whether to awaken her when she heard his footsteps and opened her eyes blearily. Janken said softly, "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, Red. I just brought some juice from Boober."

"Oh, thanks," she said.

Janken poured her a cup. She held it in one hand, the other around the baby, trying to avoid awakening her. She had recently learned two of the most undeniable facts of motherhood: When your baby sleeps, you sleep, and waking it up is an act of masochism. She always had some water on hand, but Boober kept her supplied with juices and radish bars to keep her energy and morale up. She drank, then handed the cup back to Janken and said "Thanks" again.

"How do you feel?" Janken asked.

"Tired. Not as sore as before. I'll be playing rock hockey in a few days." Poncle was beginning to squirm and make little noises. Red picked her daughter up and held her to her chest, where she found what she wanted.

Janken grinned. "If you try Boober will glue your blanket to the floor with you under it."

"Don't I know it. He never ordered Mokey around like that."

"He didn't have to."

And Mokey was bigger than Red and had an easier time having babies, Red thought. Both times she had been up and walking around in a few days. It wasn't fair. But Red was starting to understand why Mokey had been so flaky for a few weeks after Janken and Sage were born. There was something about seeing this little creature that had grown inside you, knowing that one day it would walk and talk and be an actual person. She had always understood the process intellectually; now she felt it in her gut, so to speak. She could gaze at Poncle for hours, just feeling her warmth and watching her breathe.

After a few minutes she said, "Could you pour me some more? This is thirsty work."

"Sure." Janken handed her another cup. She took it with her free hand and drank.

Soon Poncle stilled. Having had her fill, she was content just to rest. Janken said, "Would you like me to take her for a while?"

"Yeah. That'd be great," Red said. "I've had plenty of the miracle of life and not enough of the miracle of sleep."

Janken smiled. He lifted Poncle out of Red's arms, supporting the tiny Fraggle's head in one hand and body with the other. The baby began to fuss, but quieted again when Janken held her to his chest. The warmth and familiar smell of his fur reassured her.

**

Janken carried Poncle into the Great Hall. Though her eyes were closed—Fraggle babies' eyes opened when they were a few weeks old—he could tell she was still awake. She was making little movements with her arms, legs, and tail, and pressing her face to his fur. When she was asleep she went completely limp.

"Hey, Janken."

He looked up. Mica, a gray Fraggle his age, had come up to him unnoticed. "That's your little sister?"

"Yeah. I'm taking care of her so Red can sleep."

"That's sweet of you."

"Eh, it's no big deal. She's just been fed, so all I have to do is be ready when the other end needs cleaning."

"Yuck."

"Yeah." He shrugged.

Mica thought that he could feign a casual attitude as long as he wanted, but the way he held the tiny bundle of brown-and-blonde fluff close, stroking her face and playing with her fingers and toes, said otherwise. They had been close friends as long as they could remember; she could tell when he was bluffing. After a few minutes she asked, "Can I hold her?"

"Sure."

Janken gave her the baby, but as soon as Mica was holding her Poncle began to squirm and whine. Janken said, "She doesn't recognize you. Here, sit closer to me."

"All right," Mica said, scooting over.

"Now turn partway toward me so she's between us." He put one arm around Mica. Poncle wriggled a little more, then settled down again. Janken said, "At first she didn't want anyone but Red and Gobo to hold her. This is how we got her used to the rest of us—hold her so she can smell someone she knows, and she'll get used to the other one."

"I never would have thought of that," Mica said.

"Me neither. I don't know who came up with that trick."

They sat together, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, holding the baby between themselves. When Poncle went limp, Janken said quietly, "She's asleep."

"Yeah," Mica said softly. After a pause she added, "You'll make a good father some day."

"You too," he replied. "Well, except you'll be a mother."

"It's nice of you to help Red out like this."

"Oh, I don't mind. I don't have anything better to do," he said wryly.

She understood his problem. He had talked with her about it. They were close enough to talk about almost anything, including things that it was hard to bring up with a parent. Sympathetically she said, "I know. But you'll find something."

Quietly he said, "I sure hope so."

*****

Fraggle Rock and all characters except Janken, Sage, Poncle, and Mica are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, Sage, Poncle, Mica, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.

 

[The Count]

Yay! New story!

It's really great to see how you develop the individual factions of Fraggledom and still keep them connected.
The scenes with Mokey, Janken, and Sage were funny... Especially Sage's enthusiasm for both the radish gathering and then she's off to the swimming hole/pond.
The scene with Red and Ponkle was cute, nice to finally see her maternal side. And the line about the two truths she learned was high truth.
The scene with Janken and Mica was a good ending... Didn't know Mica was a female Fraggle, good to finally meet her.

Thanks and hope to read more soon.
And happy birthday to a great writer.
*Leaves radish flan and sorbet, since that seemed to be such a hit on Battle Radish.

 

[Slackbot]

Heh, Sage is a typical Little Kid: all gung-ho over whatever she's interested in at the moment, then switching interests at the drop of a radish. It's fairly easy to herd her in the right direction, at least.

I got the bit about sleeping when the baby sleeps from Beowulf's Children, a novel by Larry Niven, Jerry Pournelle, and Stephen Barnes. I didn't really understand it until I visited my sister's family on the weekend after their first child was born... and that visit was also the inspiration for the pic in which Red threatens to kill someone, she doesn't care who, if she doesn't get some sleep.

Finally meet Mica? Er, I haven't used her before now. I created her for this story, and the only time she's appeared before today was in a pic I posted to dA and haven't linked here. Has she been sneaking around behind my back?

Thanks for the radish desserts! They're very... radishy. I can honestly say I've never had any birthday treats like 'em in my life.

 

[bazingababe24]

This is a lovely first chapter. I hope Wem shows up at some point. He knows firsthand what Janken is struggling with, and it would be sweet to see them interact.

I wasn't aware that it was your birthday, Slackbot! Your name didn't show up under Today's Birthdays. I hope you had a great one today!

 

[Slackbot]

Heh, do you think I'd leave Wembley out? Heck, do you think he'd let me? We'll see him before long, I promise. (Note: this doodle dump has some teasers for the upcoming chapters.)

Yeah, I noticed I didn't make it onto the forum's birthday list. The forum hates me. I'll go eat worms now. On the other hand, everyone who read Kevin & Kell yesterday knew about my birthday! And, yes, it was a good one. Some coworkers gave me a b'day cupcake from Whole Foods, and I came home to find my Facebook page and E-mail box full of greetings. That'll do me fine.

 

[Slackbot]

A Wandering Heart
Part 2: Take 1
by Kim McFarland​

*****

There were many Fraggles in Fraggle Rock. Nobody had ever bothered to count them; guesses ranged from dozens to several hundred. All agreed, however, that however many there were, it was the right number.

It would seem impossible, if anyone had given much thought to the matter, to find vacant caves close to the heart of the colony. But it happened anyway, so Fraggles accepted it as an unexplainable fact of life, on a par with the appearance of the Fraggle Moon and the passages deep underground that led to Outer Space.

Janken and Mica had found just such an empty cave. It was a medium-sized room, with a flat floor and shelflike formations at waist height along most of the walls. They looked all around, then at each other. After a quiet moment, he said, "What do you think?"

"It's just right... and it's a little eerie. Not scary, just... did you know this cave was here?"

"I never saw it before in my life."

"Wow."

In a low voice Janken said, "If Mokey saw this she'd say the Rock was providing for us, just like it provided for her and Red right after they decided to move in together. That sounds flaky, but at times like this I see how she can believe that, you know?"

"Yeah." She stopped looking around and took his hand. "Whether or not it was meant for us or it's just here, I think we should take it."

"Yeah."

"Let's get our stuff."

**

Janken's belongings were spread among his parents' three homes. The first one he visited was the closest; Red and Mokey's cave. He hadn't slept here much in the past few years. The cave was snug for three, so when Sage was born he had started spending most of his time with Wembley, Gobo, and Boober. Now he only slept over when Red needed help with her baby.

When he entered Red and Mokey were playing with Poncle. The little Fraggle, now ten days old, was still blind. Her eyes wouldn't open for another week or two. She was too young to do much besides eat, sleep, cry, and make messes, but that never discouraged anyone from gleefully babbling baby talk at her. They looked silly, Janken thought, but so what? Silly is good.

Red was still in bed. Poncle's birth had been rough on her, and Boober would not permit her to risk further harm by straining herself. That she actually followed his orders with only token backtalk was taken as proof that he was right. Boober had confided to Janken that when she started complaining and trying to escape he'd consider her recovered. She had put her hair up in pigtails again, which, Janken thought, was a good sign.

Now Mokey was singing to the baby, a soft, silly ditty about thimble beetles and rumble bugs. Janken nodded to her and Red, unwilling to interrupt the song, then went to his corner and picked up the few items of clothing that he kept here. He left the bedding; with a messy baby in the room, they could always use a spare. Then he sat down by Mokey, listening to the song and looking at Poncle.

After Mokey finished Red asked, "What's up, Janken?"

"I've found a new cave. Mica and I are moving into it today," he told both Red and Mokey.

Mokey said, "That's wonderful! You must be so excited, moving in with your best friend!"

"Yeah, I am. And a little nervous, I guess."

Red told him, "You'll be fine. Where is it?"

"It's not far. Take the right tunnel as you leave here, then go on outward from the Great Hall for a minute, and it's on the right. I'll show you after we move in."

Mokey said, "All right. I hope you two will be as happy as we are!"

Red quipped, "At least, after the first few days."

Janken grinned. He had heard all about Red and Mokey's housewarming battle, which had culminated in the invention of the hammock-thwack. It had been a while since Red's hammock had been used to slingshot anyone into the pool in the Great Hall. "I think we'll get along a little better than that."

**

Janken visited Boober next. Boober was sitting back with his feet up, a teacup in hand, gazing at the clothesline that crossed his living space. He always found watching laundry dry relaxing. Janken didn't understand that, but then there was so much not to understand about Boober. In the end, you just accepted him for the oddball he was.

"Want some tea?" Boober offered.

Janken almost said no, but then he changed his mind. "Thanks, yeah."

Boober poured a second cup. Janken took a sip. It was something minty, made with sweetwater. He said, "I've found a place to live. It's close by. I'll show you where it is when we're settled in."

Boober nodded. "I had a feeling you'd find a cave of your own soon. 'We', you said?"

"Yeah. I'm moving in with Mica."

After a pause, Boober said "Oh," into his teacup.

Janken recognized that oh-so-neutral tone of voice: pretending to pretend that nothing was wrong, and doing it badly enough that his opinion came through loud and clear. "Yeah. I really think that this'll work. We really like each other."

"I know you do. I hope you're happy together." Boober put his teacup down, then went over to a box he kept on a shelf. He rummaged within it for a few moments, then turned back and gave Janken a double handful of packets of folded paper. Janken sniffed them. They were teas. Boober liked to make his own blends from dried leaves and herbs. Janken recognized these as some of his favorites. They could be stirred into cold water and let sit for a few minutes, which was good, as not many Fraggles besides Boober had the equipment or knowhow to boil water. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Come back for more."

"I'll come back whether you have tea or not," Janken said with a warm smile.

"Good. My door's always open."

"No, it isn't," Janken teased. The curtain that Boober used as a door was often drawn.

"If it's closed, open it," Boober told him.

"I will."

The two hugged. Then Janken went over to his bed. He didn't have much more in this room than that. He put his clothing down, wrapped the collection of tea packets in that, then made a bundle of the bedding. "See you soon," he said.

"See you," Boober said.

Janken left. Boober sat back at the table and put his feet up again. Anyone who looked in on him would assume he was laundry-gazing, but his eyes, hidden by his cap, were closed. Laundry was not on his mind now. Janken, rooming with a girl? Boober had not expected that. Maybe it would work out, but Boober doubted it would. Still, it was Janken's life; he had the right to take his own chances and make his own mistakes.

**

Janken's third stop was Gobo and Wembley's cave. Janken had his own sleeping nook here, and it was where, up until now, he had slept most nights. Wembley and Gobo were sitting in their own nooks, Gobo strumming his gourd guitar and Wembley playing his bongo drums. Janken put down the bundle he was carrying, got the ocarina from the back of his sleeping nook, and joined in. Gobo and Wembley grinned at him, welcoming him to their jam session.

They played a light, improvised tune. Any of them could have sung as well; all Fraggles had a gift for improvising lyrics. However, to sing would be to take control of the music, and they were enjoying it as a simple, cooperative tune.

When they finished Gobo put down his guitar and asked Janken, "What's up with the luggage?"

"I've found a new cave. It's time I got out on my own."

"Really? Where?" Wembley asked.

"It's just a few minutes from Mokey and Red's cave. It's really nice, and about the same size. Ought to be plenty of room, since we don't have a lot of stuff to clutter it up," Janken explained.

"We? Who are you moving in with?" Wembley asked.

"Mica."

"Oh," Wembley said, surprised.

"Come on, I expected that from Boober, not from you," Janken said. "Mica and I've been best friends since I can remember. Why shouldn't we move in together? You two did."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Wembley said.

Janken started gathering his things from his nook. "Besides, well, it's kind of like testing the waters."

"Well, good luck," Gobo said. "Need any help?"

"Nah, I'm fine," Janken said. He tied the edge of his blanket, on which he had put his possessions, together, then swung it over his shoulder like a sack. Then he paused. "I'll really miss sleeping here, though."

"We'll miss you too," Wembley said softly.

Wembley climbed down the ladder. Janken put down the cloth and hugged his father. He thought, even though he would only be moving a few minutes away, he'd miss him. It really felt like he was leaving home now.

Wembley asked, "Need help carrying your stuff?"

"No, but thanks," Janken said. He swung the cloth back up onto his shoulder and said, "See you later!"

"Good luck!" Gobo said again.

"You too," Janken replied with a grin. Then he turned and left.

**

When Janken returned to the new cave Mica was already there. She had few possessions, and had only had to go to one place to gather them, so she had been back for a while. Wryly she said, "My mother didn't much like me moving out."

"My fathers thought it was kinda funny too," Janken replied. "I guess it's a parent thing."

"Yeah, guess so," she agreed. "I had some ideas how to set up in here."

"Go on."

"Well, first, do we want to split the room in half or not? Your half, my half?"

He glanced around the room, then at her. "Do we need to?"

"I'd rather not."

"Me neither. Do we want one bed or two?"

There were two obvious spots for beds on the shelflike formations. One was bigger than the other. She nodded toward it and said "I think that's big enough for us both."

"Okay."

He sounded a little hesitant, but then, she realized, so did she. She grinned sheepishly at him. "Big step, isn't it?"

"Yeah." He smiled back at her. "I brought both my beds. There'll be enough to make one bigger one."

"I can sew two blankets together to cover."

"Sure. I'll set it up. You can put other stuff out."

"Okay."

Mica set out her and Janken's possessions on the flowstone shelf. There wasn't much; most Fraggles didn't accumulate a lot of possessions. She had a kit with thread, yarn, needles, and the like; her family worked with cloth. Janken had his ocarina and some teas. Both had some clothes and a few miscellaneous keepsakes. Not much to set up housekeeping with, she thought, but that would come with time.

Janken laid the two sleeping mats—basically very thick blankets—side by side. They could be sewn together, he thought. He covered each with a blanket and put a pillow at each end. And, well, that was all there was to do.

Janken glanced over at Mica. She was looking back at him. He said, "I guess that's pretty much it."

"Yeah."

There was another awkward pause. Then he said, "Except,"

"Except what?"

He put his arms around her and kissed her. After a moment of surprise—he had never kissed her before—she put her arms around his waist and kissed back.

*****

Fraggle Rock and all characters except Janken, Poncle, and Mica are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, Poncle, Mica, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.

 

[The Count]

Very nice chapter. It's coming along well and I await the next installment.

 

[Slackbot]

Thanks. This story is a little slow in starting off 'cause I have to establish the situation and characters, but I promise it'll pick up soon. Maybe next chapter, depending on how much you like a certain pink-haired, falsetto-voiced Fraggle, and if not then, the one after.

Really.

 

[Slackbot]

A Wandering Heart
Part 3: Niven's Laws
by Kim McFarland
​

*****

Janken looked at the book he had just finished. He had written every page himself, printing in a careful, steady hand. He had even sewn the binding. Mokey had shown him how and, he thought, the end result looked pretty good. The pages were tight and in order; he'd checked twice.

He had been working on it for days and days. Mica thought that he had never invested so much time and effort into any one thing as he had that book. He had recopied whole pages before sewing it together because he was dissatisfied with his handwriting.

It was finished. There was nothing more to do to it. He'd checked it so many times he could no longer read it, he could only see the words. He was just dithering, he admitted to himself. He told Mica, more to force himself to act than to inform her, "I'm going to give this to her now."

"Good luck. Now go," Mica said. She reached out and tugged his tail gently. He grinned at her, then, book in hand, left.

He traveled through winding rock corridors. The Storyteller lived on the edge of the main colony in an oddly-decorated cave. It was one of the few caves with an actual door. Janken had always wondered about that; even Boober only had a curtain blocking the entrance to his home. He had long ago written it off as a personal quirk.

He tapped on her door. She called out, "I'm coming, I'm coming." Before she had finished saying that she opened the door. "Oh, Janken, come in!"

He did. Her home was, as usual, decorated with piles of paper and pictures of Gobo's Uncle Matt. The pictures stayed the same, but the paper formations moved and changed from day to day like living things. The Storyteller asked, "What would you like to hear today?"

"Actually, I brought you something," he said, and held the book out to her. Her eyes widened with surprise as she took it. She opened it and looked at the list on the first page, then smiled. He watched as she turned pages, reading the first lines of each section to see which tale it was.

Janken was the Storyteller's most regular customer. Ever since he was little he had loved coming to her for tales of history and fantasy. Many of them had already been written down; he had spent many hours here reading her books and scrolls when she felt under the weather or her voice was tired. But not all of them were on paper, and in any case a written story couldn't compete with a spoken one. A storyteller made the tales come alive.

Even so, stories ought to be written down, Janken thought, so they would not be lost. He said, "These are the stories you told me about 'the boy' when I was little. I guessed you were making them up for me, and I really liked them, so I wrote them down."

"You've been doing that all this time?" she asked, surprised.

"Well, no. I only started writing them down two Fraggle Moons ago. But I've gone over them in my mind many times, so I remember them pretty well. My favorite was the one about the thimble beetle. Did you make those stories up?"

"Yes, I did," she told him. "I thought you'd like stories about a little boy like yourself."

"Or like my great-uncle Matt?" he asked with a smile.

She smiled back. She had patterned the boy after her childhood memories of Matthew Fraggle. Who better to be the hero?

"I thought so. I also came to ask you about something else."

He suddenly looked nervous, she saw. "What is it?"

"Well... I really like stories, and I'd like to tell them myself. Would you teach me?"

Surprised, she asked, "Do you want to be my apprentice?"

"Yes."

She lifted her glasses and looked at him. She shouldn't be so startled, she thought. He had heard most of her tales more than once. He used to tell her stories of his own, back when he was little. If she had had ever considered taking an apprentice, he would have been the first Fraggle to come to mind. She said, "Then tell me a story."

"Um, all right," he said. "Which one?"

"How about The Great and Wondrous Blundig?"

"Okay." He started to sit down in his usual spot, a cushion on the floor opposite the storyteller's chair. She said, "No, this time I'll sit there. You take the chair."

"Oh, um, okay." He sat in the Storyteller's chair.

She lowered herself to the ground—with some effort; she was not a young Fraggle—and then said, "Go on."

He felt weirdly self-conscious. It seemed wrong for him to be sitting here, in her chair. He began, "The Wondrous Blundig was already a legend back when legends were still being made. Nobody knew where she would come from or what she would look like, but everyone knew that when she came she would replace the ruler of Fraggle Rock.

"The legend had been around for so long that nobody believed it would happen in their lifetime, and lived their lives as if she were only a story. They survived in the rock without singing or dancing, concerned only with safety and survival.

"When she finally did appear, the leader of the Fraggles didn't believe she was real. He believed her to be an upstart using the legend to seize power, and imprisoned her and her companions, No-Neck and Roughchin. But the legend said that she would move the Sacred Boulders, so to prove that she was a fake he made her try. When, at her command, the boulders did move, his people abandoned him and made her their leader.

"Instead of commanding them, as the previous leader had, she showed them how Fraggles were meant to live. She taught them to laugh and dance and sing, to take joy in life instead of merely surviving, and to lead themselves and each other rather than having rulers and laws. They saw that this was a better way to live, and when she was done and left them again the old leader didn't try to take back his role. Even he was happy living for pleasure rather than power, as all Fraggles should.

"Nobody knew where Blundig and her companions went afterward. They may have spread the good word to other Fraggle colonies."

Janken stopped. When the Storyteller didn't speak immediately, he began to feel embarrassed. He knew that that hadn't been a good telling at all. It was too short. He had repeated words and used awkward phrases. But, worst of all, it was merely an account rather than a story, telling the listener what happened rather than showing them. No dialogue, no flavor, no life. When the Storyteller spoke, you didn't see her and hear her words, you saw and heard her story. He said, "Sorry, that wasn't very good at all."

"It wasn't bad," she said kindly.

"Thanks, but I can't really think when I'm trying to tell a story. When I'm writing things down I can stop and think how to say it, but... I guess I talk first draft." He shrugged , then got off the Storyteller's chair. "Maybe I could write down the stories you tell that aren't already written down?"

"That would be fine. And maybe you can practice telling some more."

"Yeah, thanks," he said with a weak attempt at a smile.

**

He walked quickly back to his cave, his hands clasped behind his back. He could hardly believe how bad his try at storytelling had been. He'd told stories before and done much better, but they had only been short flights of fancy he had made up. It was easy to tell stories out of your own brain. But a storyteller passed on all forms of Fraggle lore, fiction and fact and everything in between. It was important that it be remembered, and who would remember a dull recitation like his? A storyteller had to capture the listener's attention, otherwise he was just wasting everyone's time.

**

Mica was there when he came back in. She had a loaf of bread. "Boober brought this by. How did it go?" She turned to him and saw his expression. "What happened?"

"She liked the book. As for me learning to be a storyteller, that's no good. I just can't tell stories well enough."

"Did she say that?" she asked.

"No. She didn't have to. I could hear myself. I can write her stories down, at least."

"That's not what you really want to do, though."

"No. But I guess I've got to settle for what I can get. Being a helper," he said, disappointed with himself.

"I'm sorry." She hugged him. After a second he put his arms around her shoulders, but there was no real warmth in the gesture. There never was.

She was beginning to wonder if this was a mistake.

*****

Fraggle Rock and all characters except Janken and Mica are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, Mica, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.

 

[The Count]

Another good addition.

Yep... Struggling with not feeling completely satisfied with the execution of the plans you clearly saw how they should happen in your head... Been there, still am. But at least you'll be the Storyteller Fraggle's helper Janken, so that's a start.
And an ending where Mica's wondering if moving in together was a mistake? O-o, we needs more please!