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Tags: batman fandom: lkh extinguished people what would jason do? like zorro book-fu
Published : 1 month ago (Wed, 04 Nov 2009 12:36:01 PST)
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Random thought: I swear, music categories are purely arbitrary these days. I mean, is there any kind of difference between avant-garde, melodic, and symphonic metal? They all have the same elements! And a lot of Scandiwegians! Whatever, music is the real winner here.
Okay, I got my hands on a copy of Never After, the anthology featuring the non-AB:VH/MG short story that LKH was so gleeful about earlier. I'm not going to upload it because it's in html, and the formatting is a bit hinky. I'll wait to see if I can track down a .lit or pdf version for the collection. So this is just going to be my reading copy. Right now, I have it open in Kompozer and this helps so very much because I have the paragraphs bordered by little red dots. This helps my eyes figure out where they're supposed to go.
Can He Bake a Cherry Pie?
Let me just get this out of the way first: I know this is a nitpick, but this is the second story that LKH has written with a character named "Elinore" and it irks me. I know it's a legitimate name, but every time I see it, I kinda twitch. I'm used to "Eleanor" which seems much more elegant to my eyes and my sensibilities. That is just my personal preference. But I'm going to do my best to set this irritation aside and just go with it to break this story down.
Riiight. Okay, so this tale follows Elinore on her wedding day? Or engagement announcement? I don't know. The first sentence is thus: "The Earl of Chillsworth was a pervert, and everyone knew it." before we waffle off about Elinore being so young and pretty with her blonde hair, pale skin, and cornflower blue eyes, why she was named Elinore (after a grandmother who was supposed to be a beauty back in the day, but also stubborn) and generally, Elinore is a Good Girl. But she's not thrilled to be engaged/married to the Earl and wishes her father would appreciate that she, too, is a person even though she hasn't got a penis. But alas, she is a woman, so she's going to marry this wealthy and influential gentleman.
Rather than be a regular noblewoman who sits about and embroiders all day, Elinore is something of a kitchen whiz and cooks splendidly. She even helped out on her own feast by arranging the stuffed peacocks.
I'm sorry. This is where my brain checks right the hell out. I know this is meant to be something of a historical fairytale, but...no, Laurell. Girls back in the day were a commodity, and while some of them made something of themselves and kicked ass, please do not be asking me that this simpering girlchild with her perfect pale skin could spend hours in the sweltering heat and bustle of a kitchen.
And now Elinore's wishing she'd married the boy who asked her hand last summer. But he's married to someone else now and they have a baby, so tough cookies Elinore. You could be married to Edgar Allen Poe instead.
Oh, okay, now we're getting to the fairytale part of the story. And it's as subtle as a brick to the face.
[Elinore's] father smiled indulgently at her, probably thinking she would do the traditional maiden’s toast for this time of year, for she was still a maiden in every sense of the word.
“I will go rescue Prince True.” It was an old saying now, older than the war that had gotten her father in trouble. It was more fairy tale now than truth to most people, for it had been more than fifty years since he vanished. But once, Prince True had been heir to the whole kingdom. Yet as often happens in fairy stories, he had been arrogant and unkind to women. He had declared that women’s work was worthless, and only men, and their work, had value. One day, so the story went, a witch overheard him and challenged him to come to her cave. She told him she would prove to him that a woman was stronger than a man. He laughed at her. She accused him of cowardice, and, being a foolish prince, he went to accept her challenge. He was never seen again.
Many men tried to rescue him, but finally a body came back with a note that read, “Only a woman’s art can win the prince his freedom.” For many years after that, noble houses that had two daughters, or more, would make one or two of them learn to be a man. They learned weapons, and riding, and hunting, and all the things that make a hero a hero. They would ride off in their armor, and never be seen alive again. You could go to the edge of the first moat and gaze down upon the armored skeletons, complete with horses, that had been dashed to their deaths on the rocks below. SUBTLE, LAURELL. I SEE WHERE YOU'RE GOING THERE. I mean, if there's one girl in a family that gets to have all the fun, kickass man adventures of mansomeness, then she's not a real girl after all. No! Any self-respecting witch will not be fooled by your fake mens!
I'm actually a little upset about families wasting their girls in this manner. Yes, it's nice there's equal opportunity for ass-kickery, but the whole "YEAH YOU GO ON A QUEST WHERE YOU DIE, KTHXBAI!" *shoves out door* seems so very, very retarded even in a fairytale. Seriously, how hard is it to check for gaping chasms filled with spikes of death and think maybe you need to find another way across? Not to mention, what about the dudes that might want to wear dresses and be treated like princesses...wait a second, no, I take that back after I had a flashback to Nathaniel with his pearls as he played Sally Homemaker. But not in drag, no, that would be going too far.
It turns out, Elinore knows where to go for this kind of dumb adventure. Elinore had gazed upon the broken bodies once, with her brothers. This makes me think that her brothers climbed down into the deathpit and got her to stay up top so she could take photos of them with the skeletons for their Facebook. STATUS: CHILLIN' WITH THE DEAD! BECOME A FAN?
PERSONAL ISSUE: had had in a sentence in any form. There is no need for one of those hads. In this particular context, there's "She'd had nightmares for a week." YOU DON'T NEED THE 'D THERE. SHE HAD NIGHTMARES FOR A WEEK. IT SAYS EXACTLY WHAT YOU MEAN IT TO SAY. ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) pith pointed out that this is a legitimate convention in writing. And I know it is. But that doesn't mean I have to like it. I am a cranky old word-fogey.
What. WHAT. So, we go from Elinore taking photos of her brothers with dead people to suddenly the Earl is groping her tits. I think we're back at the party? I DON'T KNOW, IT HAPPENS IN THE SPACE OF A SENTENCE IN THE SAME PARAGRAPH RATHER THAN USING A BREAK TO GO BACK TO THE STORY AT HAND. Uh, as it were. Bad choice of words. But the WTAF stands, because after the earl groped her, Elinore decided she'd rather die than marry him and she suddenly recounts why she can't run away instead. She can't run away because her father will track her down and totally kill anyone that helps her. She knows this because her cousin totally ran away, got a flogging, and the boy she was with met with a foul end. Elinore is so pure and good, she will not risk another's life or safety for her own happiness! She will not kill herself because that would bring shame on the family! MY HEART, SHE BLEEDS.
Oh wait. Elinore's plan is to go rescue Prince True and since it's a suicide mission, she can go off and die without tarnishing the family honour and not have to live with her pervy old husband? Oh honey, just kill the guy. Or over-exert him and be a wealthy-assed widow with many fine, young, virile suitors.
“I will rescue Prince True, or die in the effort, so I swear by my maid, mother, and crone. May the moon take me, if I lie, and the lightning of God strike any who try to prevent me from this most solemn duty.” She said the last looking directly at her father, and for the first time ever, the look of her dead grandmother was on her face, and in the set of her shoulders. Elinore the Younger had found her backbone at last. This is where I crack right the fuck up and link everyone to Bring Your Own Blood or BYOB, a Vampire Diaries fanfic that is both epic and crackish in its badness. Seriously, it's Laurell was channelling the dialogue in this fic. GREAT MOON! (yay-zor?)
So with this declaration -- at her engagement party -- Elinore flounces. Classy, sweetheart, real classy. Also, we keep getting told about how evil and vile the earl she's set to marry really is, and all he's done is grope her boobs and touch her hand. That's it. He hasn't tried to sniff her hair, watch her while she sleeps or throw her on the table to lick her shoulder and have his perverted, evil, old way with her. But oh, that's right, age means he cannot perform, so personally defiling her on the banquet table is right out. Plus, doing that in front of her father may be in poor taste. So at least he's got a sense of etiquette even if Elinore does not.
It was a plan, and it was the only plan she had, so she stuck to it. The trick about such plans is to keep moving, and not think too hard, because if she thought too hard, she might decide that life with the horrible earl would be preferable to death. Okay, just how fast was this engagement? Did her father just organise all this and neglect to inform her until the very last minute when she's sitting dazedly at the head of the table near her future husband? Because if there's a feast with stuffed peacock, that's going to take a while to organise. And then there's the time it would take to get preened and dressed up for all this finery. That's plenty of time to weigh up all the options for the future, and the pros and cons for each one.
Y'know, I think I might have more respect for this tale if the heroine was actually plotting to kill her future husband from day one and set herself up for a life of prosperity and affluence rather than just running away to certain death because she couldn't figure out anything better. Specially since "Elinore was not brave, but she was not stupid either." At least if she were plotting a way to out-kink, out-perv, and outlast her wicked fiancé, it'd show that she's smart. But Laurell K Hamilton is not big on showing us anything other than her literary tits other than her fictional mens' freakishly large genitalia.
What. Okay, so Elinore flounces and it becomes a spectacle. Her mother tries to tell her this is dumb, only to get DEATHGLARE FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE (aka, the same look as Elinore's namesake grandmother would get) and immediately starts to plan the funeral. And then everyone that's following Elinore begins to sing. Oh yeah.
They sang behind her, the old songs about the other princesses and noble princes who had died trying to rescue the true prince. There was the Lament of Prince Yosphier, very dirgelike. There was the bawdy drinking song of Princess Jasmine. That one always implied she’d run away and joined a circus, Elinore thought, though as she grew older she wasn’t entirely sure that Jasmine was performing in a circus, after all. Then there was her favorite, Yellen’s hymn to the prince. Yellen was a minor noble daughter, but she had gotten the farthest and pronounced the prince handsome and still young as the day he vanished. SHE'S RIDING A HORSE TOWARD HER CERTAIN DEATH AND MUSING ABOUT A PRINCESS THAT MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE RUN AWAY TO JOIN THE CIRCUS. This is like live action iPod. Who, when they're riding toward certain death to escape a loveless and possibly torturous marriage to a man that may or may not kill her, would stop to reminisce about the songs everyone is singing as they goad her toward her death?
Maybe I'm loooking at this all wrong and it is, in actual fact, the most brilliant fairy black comedy in the similar stylings of Grande Guignol where it's so horrifyingly awful you have to laugh or else succumb to tears.
Elinore listened to the musicians and the singing, and hoped they wrote something pretty for her. She made sure she sat the horse well, and let her long yellow hair free of its ribbons so that it flew out behind her, with her horse’s white skin, and her pale yellow cloak that she had dyed herself. If she could not be brave, she hoped she made a pretty picture. My mistake, Elinore is roleplaying James Dean. On a side note, I would love to have a horse named Little Bastard in a Melbourne Cup.
Oh, it turns out there is a bridge over the Deadly Moat of Death. So, either people in this fairytale land have shitty GPS, or they can't read Google Maps. Also, if the aim of the game is to die, why are you getting off your horse, having regrets of not getting out of the house more, and walking across the bridge? JUST RIDE TO YOUR DEATH, Y'KNOW, AS PLANNED?
Then Elinore's father's there to bitch at her to TURN THIS HORSE AROUND RIGHT NOW, YOUNG LADY, AND APOLOGISE TO YOUR HUSBAND-TO-BE. OH GOD THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING. And Elinore refuses, citing that he even said himself that going on this quest is stupidly suicidal and well, she'd rather go with stupidly suicidal than unhappily married. Nobody's getting icecream at the end of this story, I can just tell. Elinore's father backhands her, and she stands her ground to yell that she's going to go do this, seriously daddy, just you watch me! and he bitches back that she's a stupid, stupid rat creature selfish girl and flounces. She straightens her shoulders and bids him GOOD-BYE, DADDY, only to have him calling plaintively after her. O DRAMA. What happened to just how embarrassing this was? Or, y'know, if he was close enough to belt her one, he could just throw her over his shoulder and carry him back to her groom so he can spank her.
Instead, [s]he did not look at the skeletons and their skeleton horses on the razor-sharp rocks below. She kept her eyes front, her back straight, as a well bred woman should. Good to know.
I love retellings of fairytales, especially when they're turned on their heads or put on crack. But this doesn't make any kind of sense.
And what's worse? It's the first story in the book. One thing I learned from putting together a couple of anthologies is that you start strong, and you end strong. You can put the more lacklustre stories in the middle where nobody cares so much. But you want to hook a reader in, and this? This is not making me want to push forward to the other authors. Course, one of the other authors is Sharon Shinn, and that instantly raises my hackles.
Back to the story -- The bridge was wooden, and had no rails, but it was solid and wide enough to drive a large carriage across. And what? Indiana Jones comes racing across to shove people over the edge and to their death as he escapes both Nazis and evil Hindu Yogis? Remind me again why so many people lay dead at the bottom of the moat, please.
I take that back, there's a sudden unexpected giant that appears out of thin air.
No, really.
According to the songs and stories, you have to fight the giant or he'll swat you with his giant bat and kill you. Awesome. MORTAL KOMBAAAAAT!!!
The bridge swayed and pitched, and [Elinore] knelt, not out of fear of the coming giant, but because she did not want to fall off the bridge. It seemed important somehow that she should die by the giant’s club and not some silly fall. If this were to be the last thing she ever did, she would die well, and, if possible, in such a way to make her father regret his actions. Yes, seeing her fall would be horrible, but seeing her beaten to death by a giant, that well served her father right. The plan was to die. It's not even suicide FOR GREAT JUSTICE! or even FOR SCIENCE! It's now suicide out of spite, but not just any suicide, no, it has to be in spectacular fashion to show all those meanie-heads what for and then they'll feel bad about being so awful because look at how horribly she died, y'all. The convoluted logic behind wanting to ride off a cliff to escape marriage is almost Machiavellian. Almost, if by Machiavellian I really mean high school petty vengeance to stubbornly show them, show them ALL how wrong they are!
What.
They stared at each other for a moment or two, the girl and the giant. Elinore noticed that the giant’s eyes were brown, and the size of serving platters, but they were not unkind, those eyes. They were certainly kinder than the eyes of the earl. Brief recap: Elinore wants to die so she won't have to marry a crusty old creeper, this giant appears out of thin air to smush anything that moves, and suddenly they're BFF. Oh, and just so we're not confused: There were still no rails on the bridge, and the giant was taking up a lot of room. For a moment, I wondered if the bridge had suddenly sprouted a balustrade or possibly a troll in a tollbooth.
And then Elinore bitches that maybe she should have worn more comfortable shoes to this. Because heels? Totally not good for a slow suicide. I am serious:
She eased past [the giant], holding her skirts up, delicately, wishing she had thought to change out of her dancing slippers and into something more serviceable. Dancing slippers were fine for quick deaths, but if it was to be slow, and there was to be a challenge, then there were other shoes she would have chosen. HEY ELINORE, IF YOU'D JUST KILLED YOURSELF ALREADY, YOU WOULDN'T BE IN THIS MESS. JUST THROW YOURSELF OFF THE BRIDGE, IT'S THAT EASY. I hate to say it, but even Bella Swan understood the concept of suicide better than this chick.
Aw, even the giant understands death better. He pointed with a finger the size of a young tree. “Go there, Elinore the Younger. Go there and meet my cousin. Your death at my hands would have been quick. If you fail the next trial, your death will be slow and fulsome.” IT'S NOT TO LATE, GIANT! YOU CAN JUST SMUSH HER WHERE SHE STANDS! Yeah, I see where this is going Laurell. Elinore's going to win the day with her perfect ladylike manners because she knows the art of being a Real Woman rather than pretending to be a boy. However, I hate Elinore in both the spelling and the character, and I am actively cheering the bad guys in this, futile as it may be. Only the bad guys in this story will not be anywhere near as bitchy or cool as sentient plants that will mimic humans in order to lure them to their deaths, sentient viruses, mutatey parasites, bitchy dead people, or Jason Fucking Voorhees. Jason Voorhees would have fixed this mess by now, starting with Elinore because she'd probably want to kiss his woobie and make it better. He'd give her a woobie, in the form of HACKING HER TO PIECES WITH HIS MACHETE.
And Batman. Batman would have solved this shit already and be swooshing back to Gotham. Because Batman is that awesome.
Anyway, before I got sidetracked by Batman, Elinore walked past the giant and he warned her that she'd face his cousin and his cousin would totes kill her slow. She basically flutters her lashes and asks kindly if he could spare her that and kill her right there, and he's like "No, little lady, you passed my test. Go yonder to my cousin!" and blah blah blah fortune cookie wisdom about how you never get rid of a temper by losing it. I think my bus ticket told me that, once. So, some of the lads from the death parade decided that the giant wasn't so awful if a tiny little girl like Elinore could get past, and once she was on the other side, the giant went back into killinating mode and the dudes died of smush.
Second test is an ogre yelling at her, "WHERE IS YOUR SWORD OR AXE? NO? YOU DON'T HAVE ANY? WELL I GUESS IT'S OKAY TO KILL YOU THEN! RAAAR!" and MY MISTAKE, IT'S TOTALLY AN AX. Apparently the E got slaughtered for deigning to exist. At least it's not an adz? So yeah, Elinore does not get axed and the ogre quizzes her on why she doesn't scream or try to fight and she's like, "well, if I'm going to die, you might as well just hack me to pieces," and the ogre points her to the next section of castle and warns her that his aunt is waiting.
You know, I really hate it when we're told just how smart a heroine is and the world gets warped to retarded dimensions rather than have her actually show that she's smart in any way. I've yet to have a demonstration as to why Elinore is so wonderful, other than being a Proper Young Lady. Which, of course, will totally win the day. BECAUSE THAT'S FUCKING OBVIOUS.
So, Elinore hesitates before moving on because she thinks that being eaten alive (OM NOM NOM CANNIBALISM!) is somehow worse than being married to a crusty old creeper, and the ogre comes back to point out that she got past him and the giant, to them that makes her cool and she can go home if she likes. No really, free pass home! Collect $200 and a crusty husband! Elinore hums and haws, and wonders if being married to the earl is somehow better than being eaten alive. HMM, ONE OF THESE THINGS INVOLVES CANNIBALISM. And as far as I know, the other does not involve necrophilia.
Was it a fate worse than death? Perhaps not, but Elinore had come to die rather than marry the earl. She would do it. Even if the death were horrible, it would last only moments, and then she would be free. Marriage to that man could last years. DEATH IS FOREVER. TWILIGHT SAYS SO.
Before she goes on, the ogre asks where she got her cloak from and she says she got it on sale at Princess Macy's she made it herself with some help of servants. I don't know why this is relevant, maybe the ogre wants something like this on Etsy.
Anyhoodle, she goes toward her third test. Awesome, let's see what dumbassery lies ahead. Elinore reflects on how it'd be ace to be internet-famous. She would die bravely for the song they would write about her. It would be a shame to have them write a laughing ballad like they had for the one princess who died screaming. So, let me get this straight: she wants to die to a) escape marriage without shaming the family (even though she's already done that because her father is JUST SO FUCKING EMBARRASSED) and b) for the song someone's going to write about her, because she's somehow unique amongst all the other beautiful, talented, smart, and presumably more kickass princesses that have come before her. Right.
There was a shape in the dimness, but it was not a woman’s shape. Elinore’s eyes could not make sense of it, at first; then the voice’s owner stepped into the firelight, and Elinore did scream. She clapped her hand over her mouth to hold in the sound, but never had she dreamt of anything like what stood before her. It was worth a scream, or two.
It was a great predatory cat, the color of ripe wheat, glowing and golden in the light. It padded toward her on huge cat feet. But it wasn’t a lion, or even a cat, for the upper part of the animal had breasts and arms, and a woman’s face with long, wavy brown hair. Her eyes were the yellow slits of a cat’s, but if you hadn’t seen the lower part, you’d say she was beautiful. AHAHAHA IT'S THE CAT WITH HANDS! Also, Oedipus called, he'd like his sphinx back. At least he had to use his brain to save the day, and even then he still married his mother and went crazy and killed himelf. Oh, oh god, and then the sphinx asks if Elinore knows what it is, and Elinore dumbly shakes her head, so the sphinx explains that O HAI I AM A SPHINX, I LIKE TO ASK THE RIDDLES/PUZZLES ETC. and thus further defeating this whole notion that our protagonist is smart. See, this is really why Jocasta stabbed herself in the eyes.
Elinore asks that when she fails the test (not if, or maybe) that the sphinx kills her before it starts to eat her. Which is great, if she was still intent on dying, because she could just take a wild guess and be eated by cat-lady. And we'd all be put out of our misery of this tale. The end. Batman and Jason Voorhees dance the monster mash. Elinore also goes on to say, "no, you're right, I'm too dumb to answer your questions and get past you, so just ask them and we can get to the cannibalism part." And then the sphinx settles in for some girl-talk as to who Elinore is and why she's there.
Now, if this were a story about a prince that was on his way to save another prince, or even a princess, we'd get past, "who are you/what are you doing here/where did you get those shoes?" before the guy would be all "HA! You asked your three questions and I have answered! Let me pass!" and the sphinx would be all "dfkhsa;dsa; FINE!" and we'd be on our merry way. But that would be clever. And interesting. And show that he's smart. And we can't have any of that, can we?
OH MY GOD. THIS STORY IS SO DUMB. The sphinx's first question is to ask Elinore what was used to dye her cloak. And the next is about the ingredients in gingerbread. THESE ARE NOT RIDDLES OR PUZZLES. THESE ARE THINGS YOU CAN GOOGLE OR CAN BE FOUND IN A MARTHA STEWART MAGAZINE. And the third question? DO YOU THINK HIGH HEELS ARE GOOD FOR FIGHTING MONSTERS?
fdjsaklfj;dsaf;sajh;ajk brb, need to kill something. I will wear fabulous pumps while doing so. BECAUSE I CAN.
THERE ISN'T EVEN ANYTHING ABOUT UNLADEN SWALLOWS.
AHH AND THERE'S ONE MORE TRIAL. Because, like, it's been so haaaard so far. It's only now that Elinore pauses to think that hey, maybe this wasn't a great idea as Prince True was meant to be a cad and if she rescues him, she'd be stuck marrying him instead. But he'd be young and studly in a bad marriage rather than ew, crusty and perverted. CHOICES. So, finally Elinore faces off against the sorceress and explains her situation. The sorceress offers her three choices, the first of which is a quick and painless death. Elinore asks nicely if she could hear the others before making her decision. The second choice is a secret way out of the fortress where Elinore could go off and make her way in the world and never see her father or the dastardly earl again. Elinore refuses on the grounds that she's never been in the world before so she could not possibly survive. Y'know, because she's a smart girl and can figure things out on her own. The third choice is to rescue the prince. If Elinore fails, she must become the sorceress' servant. For all time.
Okay, in maybe the first glimmer of smarts she's shown, Elinore asks if she could at least meet the prince before she makes her decision. So she does, he's a bit of a douche, and she asks the sorceress what the challenge would be if she were to decide. The challenge: either defeat the prince himself in combat, or cook a meal to the satisfaction of the sorceress. OH MY GOD. BE STUPIDER, STORY, I DARE YOU. YOU WERE JUST STARTING TO GET OKAY, AND THEN THIS HAPPENED.
Oh, oh my god. It goes on. If the prince ever threw a fight or pie-making contest, he'd still earn his freedom. But, he hates to lose to a girl, so he killed a bunch of them and baked the best pies around. BUT IT'S OKAY BECAUSE THE COOK SAID THAT ELINORE COULD COOK SO WELL SHE COULD WORK AT THE PALACE. YOU KNOW, WITH THE OTHER NOBLEMEN'S DAUGHTERS AS THEY DO.Elinore folded her hands along the soft edge of the cloak she had woven and dyed. “I think I could best him at cooking, because our head cook praises me. Never in front of my parents, for they would not understand that her approval meant more to me than theirs.”
“Your head cook is a servant,” the prince said, “and she has to tell you that you are good at something.”
“So you will take the challenge?” the sorceress asked.
“No, I will not,” Elinore said.
The prince stared at her. “What?”
“I have seen and talked to you and I do not think your freedom is worth mine.” So the twist in this fairytale is that the princess decides not to save the prince after all? That's it?
Fuck this shit. No, seriously. I had an idea ages ago for a bandom AU where one guy goes off to rescue the princess only to find out it's really a prince, and he leaves. But then he feels bad about it and goes back anyway. I'd also love a story where the princess teams up with a dragon to go save a prince and they're all BFF. Or princesses that save each other/themselves and fall in love along the way. Just...anything that's not this bullshit.
BUT NO, THIS STORY IS NOT OVER YET! After claiming that she does not know her way in the world, Elinore is all prepared to take option b) leave safely as she may be hopeless at this life thing, but she can cook and sew and plant a garden, but then the sorceress is all "wait a second, new challenge: pie-making contest. You win, I give you enough money to open your own store or marry a baker. If the prince wins, you can still leave." And the prince is Not Happy with this, but the sorceress is like "stfu, you need to learn a lesson in humility. Ass." and that makes me like her just a little bit. Not much, mind you, just more than the heroine.
So okay, pie-making contest. The prince continues to be a douche, while Elinore mulls over what it would mean if she rescued him or got to set up her own business. She's never had the latter and she's a bit excited to try it.
[The prince] smiled, and it was such an arrogant look that Elinore knew there was no going back. There would be no living with this man, even if his brother didn’t execute them both.
“You will not best me at cooking, girl. I have mastered it as I have mastered everything I have ever tried to do in my life.”
She nodded. “As you say, Prince True, you are master of many things, but you are not mistress.”
He frowned. “What does that mean?” This explains everything; the prince is a genderswapped Cassie Palmer. And if he's not really, he could be a mistress if he wore a dress. I'm sure the sorceress would let him have pretty dresses. Drag is always awesome, story!
So, this isn't Master Chef and there's no time limit. Elinore takes her sweet time in baking her pie while the prince continues to be a douche, and then they finally take their pies out to the banquet hall. The giant, ogre and sphinx from earlier have joined the sorceress, and the generall consensus amongst them is that Elinore will be dubbed Elinore the Brave rather than Elinore the Younger, as she has defeated such terrible monsters as themselves. And then the sorceress says that Elinore wins because her pie is the prettiest. The prince is like HALE NO, EAT MAH PIE! while some of it flakes off. But no, everyone eats pie and still says that hers is the best. And it's a really sore spot because she's not even trying to free the prince anymore.
The prince is still a douche and throws a tantrum over why she doesn't want to marry him and be queen of everything, ever. Her reply:
[The prince] looked at Elinore, and he was finally perplexed. “How can you not want to be my queen?”
“You are not kind enough to marry.”
“Kind? A man is not kind. A man is strong.”
“It was gentleness that made the crust of that pie. It was too much strength that broke its crust. I want a husband who can bake a pie without breaking it in anger.”
“That makes no sense, girl.”
“My name is Elinore the Younger, named Elinore the Brave by a giant, and an ogre, and a sphinx.”
“Free me, Elinore.” A look passed his face, a look of pain at last. “Please, let me go.”
She looked at him, studied his fine blue eyes. She looked at the sorceress. “I have won the contest fairly, have I not?”
“You have; do you want him to husband now?”
“No, but could he be freed, and tell the story of how I died bravely in the attempt?”
“Why would you free him, Elinore the Brave?”
“Because he said ‘please.’” INSERT STORY TITLE RELEVANCE. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why we have a tag that reads "she made you a metaphor but she eated it" in ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif) lkh_lashouts. I get what she's trying to say here, but...um, strength has nothing to do with making a good pie crust.
Epilogue: the prince was free and still a douche and told everyone about how Elinore was madly in love with him, but died before he could bring her back as his queen. And then he died from poison a few months later, because um...court politics work that way. Elinore bought herself a bakery owned by the Kents, and they doted on her because she wanted to bake while their kids did not. She wound up marrying a baker, and they made awesome pies. The end.
Try the priest?
AND STILL, ELINORE IS NOT DEAD. WORST. SUICIDE. EVER.
I am so tempted to make a new tag that's just doctor heteronormative, but other than here, I don't think I'd ever use it. :\ wtfbrain and I had a small chat about how Doctor Heteronormative would be a cool villain, and he'd have like...a raygun that genderswaps people. Flimsiest excuse for PWP ever? Maybe. But even that would be less headdesk-inducing than this.
I really want to say that if the genders were reversed in this story, with the same sort of plot and outcome, it would not be so terrible. Then again, in the hands of another author, the story as it stands could be wonderfully entertaining. I'm not averse to a the prince going off to rescue the princess, I'm really not. I actually turn up my nose with a bit of a sneer if that's all people are going to bitch about with fairytales -- because to me, it's not so much that oh it's a prince going to rescue the girrrrl, it's the reason for the quest. There's a quest! It's awesome! And the princess is rescued and she wants nothing more than to get married to her man while everything is goodness and light. No, give me a better motivation to go off on this long-ass quest to battle monsters and whatnot other than to get hitched. I loves me some role reversal, in that a princess kicking butt to save her man is awesome -- see also: The Matrix the first, and Underworld the first -- where the princess is strong, but still feminine and the guys are pretty, but still masculine. Thanks to authors like Laurell K Hamilton, this idea is getting kinda tired because the women are every bit as abbrasive, sexist, and unlikeable as the male protagonists they were created to replace. And that kinda renders the whole notion of role reversal moot.
So rather than trying to make this all SRS BZNS about gender roles, if LKH just had a bit of fun with the story and played off the tropes that every fairytale has, it would be so much better to read.
One of my favourite books is The Dragon Hoard by Tanith Lee. It's a fairytale on crack and it's fabulous. The prince is cursed to turn into a raven for an hour, once a day, only he never knows when it will strike. His sister, Goodness, is cursed to be so good it's silly. So she gives away the entire treasury and palace to beggars and peasants, while her own family are reduced to rags. Mermaids screetch and yell profanities as they try to comb the tangles out of their hair. Prince Fearless is kind of useless and that's amazing. And the witch has honest to goodness bats in her hair. It's silly and plays on all the fairytale conventions to tell a story that's actually smart and a lot of fun. It doesn't try to be deep or even insightful, and even the other characters are "...what?" about the ridiculousness that goes on and that's what makes it so delicious.
Now I'm going to take a painkiller and go to bed and hope that this muscle in my neck stops hurting.
>:\ |
