With thousands of people camping throughout the forest next to the road, there was no hope of me catching something for the pot. Every bunny, even the dumber ones, knew better than to hang around there. Without that distraction and in a desperate attempt to keep myself occupied, I decided instead to lighten the mood of a few young children around us that kept getting under the feet of the older folks. My father was always someone who entertained me during our trips, albeit sometimes with a weapon in hand. In some way I felt it would be good to pass it on to others who would appreciate it.
Without attracting any undue attention, I crafted a few knee-high metal marionette puppets controlled with strings attached to wooden crossarms. To make them lighter, I created hollow limbs to which I fastened the limbs together with leather joints tied together through small holes in the limbs. Making small holes in the metal where the leather joints connected was a breeze with my transmutation skill.
As an area for my performance, I set up a small impromptu stage near our cart with lamplights and simple props. I easily convinced a handful of children to spectate the show, they were that desperate for entertainment. Even their parents sighed in relief. I honestly thought they let go of their children a little too easily but then I think they were under a lot of pressure considering the circumstances. My offering to take the little ones off their hands, even for a few hours, must have seemed like a small miracle. The children sat on the grassy ground in front of me, how did I not notice this many kids in that military camp I wondered? I soon realised my young audience were not interested in any fantasy stories because fairies and dwarves were common knowledge there, no kid wanted to know about everyday occurrences. They turned out to be my toughest critics, weirdly only interested in stories like Superman and Thomas the train. I guessed those earthly characters were about as fantasy characters became in a fantasy world.
“Why the evil trader wants to hurt Superman’s girlfriend?”
Said a young four-year-old boy sitting there wide eyed, deeply invested into my superhero story.
“Ah, he was afraid Superman would stop him stealing money from the people and becoming powerful.”
Sensing the kids could get hurt by certain words in my story, I decided I needed change the hurting part of my story by calling it ‘stopping’ next time. Instead, I diverted their attention to another part of the story.
“But look what happens when he saves the girl.”
I lifted the Superman marionette puppet off the ground and made as if he flew with his arm extended. I even added a bit of skill to create a blowing effect that blew the red cape as if he were flying. Then superman whooshed down and picked the girl up off the ground, rescuing her after beating the evil trader and flew off around the children. I resisted calling the trader a merchant because some merchant types sat among the parents who also seemed to be enjoying the story. When I looked again in the dim light there must have been about fifteen children sitting there and close to thirty adults. I didn’t realise it at the time, but meaningful entertainment was lacking in that world. Some forms of it existed in music arts, but they never attributed the music to acting or theatre. About the time I was running out of story, I realised the parents were looking to get their children to sleep. I announced that I was closing the puppet show and a loud chorus of disapproval from the children surprised me, forcing me to declare I would repeat it again the following night at the next camping spot.
The next morning, I helped pack the cart with the few items we took off the previous night and we started travelling early. Grenfell, who had witnessed the marionette show, seemed to become aware of something while driving the cart and looked around while chuckling.
“I see your fans are staying close today.”
“What?”
Paying attention to the crowds around me for the first time, I slowly picked out children I recognised from the previous night. They all had determined looks in their eyes as they smiled and waved at me. So many children that close to me seemed too happenstance to be coincidental.
“I think you’ve been marked.”
Grenfell’s comment confirmed my suspicion that the little scoundrels decided to keep an eye on me to make sure I delivered on my promise. Entertainment it seemed, was something worth chasing down, which explained why I suddenly felt like a hunted rabbit.
“You realise people haven’t seen anything like that before? I think you’re on to something.”
It wasn’t like the old man to praise me. It seriously concerned me.
“Really? Surely something like that has been done somewhere in history?”
Grenfell’s deafening silence answered my question. That’s when I realised, I needed to up my game. A puppet show on its own wouldn’t cut it. I had an idea and Ara’s helped me track down the group I was looking for. As an unexpected bonus I discovered the camping site for that day was closer than expected and we could thankfully set up camp sooner, allowing me the time to prepare for a better show. I ditched the 3D puppets in favour of an easier medium, shadow puppets.
When hordes of children and accompanying adults started appearing in front of my small shadow puppet show long before theatre time, I realised that word of my puppet show had spread through the people like wildfire. Grenfell laughed at the sensation I created with the children and patted me on the back.
“Ha, ha, I was right. You've put your foot in it now. Can't disappoint your adoring fans now, can we?”
Forewarned, and with Grenfell’s permission, I converted one of the marquee side flaps into an impromptu screen onto which I directed bright lamp lights from behind. Normal wick lamps wouldn’t cut it, so I borrowed some special foundry oil we used to ramp up furnace temperatures. Using blacksmith oil in normal wick lamps meant damaging the lamps beyond useable within half an hour, but at least the light illuminated at least three times brighter. The oil held some moisture in it and tended to splutter a bit which concerned me initially, because I thought it might be distracting but unexpectedly, the opposite occurred. The spluttering caused a pleasant sound effect, creating a mysterious atmosphere. Not that I relied entirely on that to create effects mind you. My other idea also worked like a shot. A band calling themselves Harry’s Bards after the leader’s name and lead flutist took up my challenge to assist me. I didn’t name them, although I mentioned to them at the time that a name change might improve their marketing. They politely declined, spouting something about emotional connections. Definitely a musician thing, I guessed.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Despite their poor naming convention, they were well adapted to performing music on the fly so to speak. Once they realised what I wanted to achieve during the brief pre-show test run, they picked up the nuances of my puppet performance like pros. There were five band members, one drummer, two flutists, a tambourine player and someone using a stringed instrument I hadn’t seen before. Harry was at least a head height lower than me, with short slightly curly hair and about thirty something years old with handsome, rugged looks. Had he been ten years younger, he might have been someone the women swooned over.
They didn’t always play as I expected but since I needed to focus on my contribution to the show, I left them to their own devices. We must have done something right because before we even started there were crowds as far as I could see through the trees. I suspected the sound of our music practice probably attracted them.
Our show became a resounding success. The crowd cheered in support of Superman’s heroic antics while booing the evil trader’s ill-gotten schemes. The mood was almost festive, and the sombre mood the prevailed during the day dissipated into nothingness that night. All that was needed were the snacks and drinks and that world’s first impromptu shadow puppet theatre would be complete.
When we finally closed for the night and our audience sadly departed, Harry’s Bards looked as lively as ever and invited me over to their tent to celebrate our roaring success. We hadn’t asked any money for the show, but a pile of coppers lay in front of the screen as people donated money to us. I only then realised I never offered to pay the musicians for their time. Through that I gained a lot of respect for the band as they accepted my request without considering the cost. When I asked why they never asked me for money they only mentioned they did it for the love of entertaining people. I didn’t get them, but then ironically, I didn’t ask any money for my puppet show either. Perhaps we suffered from the same malady.
I insisted that they take all the coppers, they obviously depended heavily on donations while I didn’t need it like they did. That retreat costed everyone at least some amount of money and I didn’t see Harry’s Bards making much during our chaotic retreat. At least Grenfell supported me with a wage.
As compensation to my kindness, they offered to celebrate the occasion with us and played some good tunes, well into the early morning. There I learned that their life wasn’t that different from mine. They held aspirations, hopes and fears, even love. They just had head bashing ogres and goblins, but then who was I to pick on little semantics at a time like that?
The following day, as we prepared to leave, we received a surprise visit from Commander Karato and that female cadet I noticed the other day.
“Morning old man, morning young apprentice.”
“I’m not old.”
Yeah, I think I also had a name.
“I just wanted to say thank you. I heard what you did last night, and I think anyone that lifts these people’s spirits is okay with me.”
Grenfell shrugged his shoulders but coming from the commander it was quite a commendation.
“Nothing to do with me. It’s all his doing…”
I just smirked, not sure what to say. The commander rode his horse closer to me.
“I’m not sure what you call it, but will you consider repeating it tonight? If you need anything to help, just let me know?”
I wasn’t expecting that my little shadow puppet show would become a major production, but I realised that the show was going to be a bit busier on the final night and there was no way I would find enough time. I needed to get some help where I could. Remembering how those cadets helped Grenfell and I set up camp a while ago I decided to ask for assistance.
“I’m expecting a far larger crowd this time. Would your cadets be able to help me with some pre-arrangements for the show, I would really appreciate it?”
Commander Karato bellowed with laughter.
“Are you being modest with me young man? We may have lost a battle but we’re far from defeated. How would it look if the knights couldn’t help for something as uplifting as that?”
Well, he had me there. The commander pointed to the young lady,
“I believe you’ve met Cadet Karina. She’ll help you make the arrangements. Let her know what you’ll need, and Cadet Karina will make it happen.”
Cadet Karina’s willing nods hinted at a feeling a little more than militaristic fervour for the task, something to do with a certain young blacksmith perhaps. I couldn’t help but blush a little at that but found her devotion quite cute. With her shortly cropped bob hairstyle she looked a little like a pixie without the ears.
The commander didn’t hang around, he said his fare-thee-well’s and sped off to take care of other things. The young Karina looked like she eagerly wanted to start with arrangements, so I sighed at her enthusiasm. It was both refreshing and tiring at the same time.
“Okay, this is what I need, and there isn’t much time to make arrangements.”
I felt a little concerned about how little preparation time we had, and that night was promising to be the show of all shows. I barely scrounged enough time to make some flat shadow puppets and true to his word, commander Karato’s cadets helped me prepare. By the time we arrived at the camp, a large area had already been set aside for the puppet show and even a canvas screen was set up between two carts for me. Candle lanterns hung on strings in the air over the large audience that gathered in the grounds, making it look a little like a Chinese carnival. Karina had outdone herself. I loved the atmosphere of the outside theatre and the smell of cooked meat wafted through the air as our impromptu Harry’s Bards played for us once again.
Even with two evenings under my belt, I still felt nervous. It was the first time I used flat puppets as my show medium, so the dynamics were different, but the special effects were far more effective. Since my shadow puppets were bigger, I could create a larger shadow for more to see and the added back lights created a bigger artistic canvas to work with.
My assistant and surprise special guest, Grenfell, I managed to convince to join me in my endeavour. At first, he seemed reluctant, but he eventually relented to my begging. Besides, I desperately needed a second person to help and how was he going to escape me when we were both travelling on the same cart?
Judging by the crowd’s applause and shouts of appreciation at the end, the night was a roaring success and we had to give two successive shows the crowds were that big. For hours Grenfell and I sweated through, every bit was worth it. After each show, I pulled a reluctant Grenfell and Karina to the front and we all bowed to our appreciative audience.
In the glowing ambiance of the success, I mulled over events as I lay in the tent with a snoring Grenfell, well past his beauty sleep. Always modest in nature, he of all of us surprisingly enjoyed it the most. But I think he had his fill of adoring fans for a long while yet. There was so much laughter and response from the audience that it bolstered our artistic bravery. Grenfell controlled the other puppets for me, and despite never seeing a shadow puppet in his life, who knew how versatile those hands were in controlling them. His puppet movements were so realistic that even I marvelled at them, in retrospect, my puppet movements were plain boring. Only someone that looked at human movement as a job, could appreciate the largely unnoticed personal mannerisms. Even his voice acting sounded superb. If he weren’t already a renown blacksmith, he would make an excellent puppeteer I thought.
Light, dark and space were all integral to the shadow puppet story. He made the side props like plants and trees, while I focused on the main characters. Some of the character’s heads could turn to create better effects and thin rods controlled the hands, allowing the other arm joints to move freely. Each character was propped up with a rod that could be placed into a stand on the ground allowing us to focus on moving the limbs and head. Karina replaced the oil lamps for us and acted as a prop replacer.
There were far more coins in the donations box we put out in front of the tent and even silvers made a regular appearance. Again, I gave them to the indomitable Harry’s Bards, and I think overall they earned far more from that trip than if we never retreated. Never was a retreat so financially rewarding.