Also… I thought I knew the Castor & Pollux story, but now I’m blanking. Enlighten a poor soul?
9 Likes
Aren’t Castor and Pollux Gemini? One’s a son of Jupiter (I think), the other mortal. And while I’m remembering it as a Roman story (I remember being told about a temple to them in Rome), I still instantly wrote Zeus instead of Jupiter, so now I’m very not sure…
9 Likes
Nim is right, twins, one mortal, one immortal. When Castor dies, Pollux offers his immortality to save him, which angers his father, Zeus, who allows them to live as constellations that will never meet. In the end, he allows them to rejoin as constellations in the summer sky.
My take is a more rock-leaning musical called The Castor/Pollux Band. C&P actually figured in a lot of classic myths. They were Argonauts, their sister was Helen of Troy, etc. so I made it a sort of Rosencranz and Guildenstern narrative where these two brother spend their lives living in other peoples’ stories while looking for their own heroic myth, only to find their myth is in their separation and death, but with a hopeful twist in the end on a song called The Summer Stars.
15 Likes
Oh, my gosh! That sounds absolutely epic!
10 Likes
I have a handful of demo recordings and might share more someday. 
13 Likes
The obscure fairy tale that keeps running around in my head right now is The White Cat;
Once upon a time there was a very wealthy King. He could tell that the eldest of his three sons was getting antsy to take over the throne, and since this was the days of “The king is dead. Long live the king!” he was understandably concerned for his life. The king called his council and asked their advice, “How do I keep my son from trying to take my throne from me?”
The council discussed and debated and finally returned their advice, “Pretend that you are growing bored of being king, and offer to abdicate the throne to whoever completes three impossible tasks for you! It will keep your sons busy and out of your hair.”
The king thought this was excellent advice and made the announcement the very next day;
“I am tired of being King! I will abdicate my throne to whichever of my sons best completes three tasks so I may retire in peace!”
The princes assembled to receive their charge.
“My first request,” said the king, “is that you bring me the finest thread or twine you can find, that I may take up a hobby once I decline the throne. Take all the time you need, and we will determine the winner of the first quest once all my sons have returned.” (A really elegant way of saying “why don’t you all get lost for a while”, don’t ya think?)
The eldest prince headed off to the North Mountains, but this is not his story.
The middle prince headed to the Western Shores, but this is not his story.
The youngest prince headed to the Eastern Woods, and it is his story we will follow.
So the youngest prince traveled night and day, from the full moon, to the empty night, to the full moon again, until his rations were gone, and his horse was pale, and his legs were weak. He stumbled into the heart of the woods, and the strangest sight greeted him:
Bodiless white gloves beckoning to him in the dark. He thought he was hallucinating, but he was too tired to care, so he let the white gloves lead him on.
They led him through a courtyard, clearly once magnificent, but now run wild with lack of care. They led him on to a shadowed palace covered in vines and spiderwebs and populated with all manner of wildlife. They led his horse away, he was too tired to struggle against them - he hoped he would see his trusty and loyal steed again. They led him inside to a once magnificent hall, now coated in thick cobwebs and dust. They led him up what could’ve been a grand staircase, down memory laden corridors, and finally into a chamber.
The chamber was lavish with gold sconces and lamps, fine silk tapestries and plush rugs, everything the rest of the grounds alluded to but failed to deliver.
The gloves brought him trays of sweet meats, fresh bread, and honeyed fruits. They washed him and dressed him and put him to bed.
Three days he spent, allowing these strange servants to cater to him as he recovered in bed, and on the third night the gloves brought him down through the corridors, down the staircase, through the hall - all still dust laden and with an air of wistful memory. The gloves now brought him off to a dining hall, just as lavish as the chamber he had been resting in; gold and silver; ivory and fine china; all the finest trappings he could have imagined.
The gloves pulled out a finely carved chair for him, and he wondered if this was a mad fever dream, or if he’d ever see home again.
The doors reopened and the gloves brought in a fine silver palanquin, draped with luxurious gold and silver curtains. When the gloves pulled them aside, on a plush velvet cushion inside, sat a dainty white cat with wide green eyes.
“Have my servants treated you well?” she queried, emerging and taking the seat across from the prince.
“I have nary a want for anything,” he replied. “Who am I to thank for this generosity?”
“You may call me Lady Cat,” she answered, bowing her dainty, fluffy head. “And what brings you to my door?”
“I’ve been sent on a quest from my father, the king, to find the finest thread so I may inherit the throne.”
Lady Cat purred, something that almost sounded like a laugh, “Let us eat and enjoy one another’s company - it’s been so long since I’ve had a guest. After our meal I will see if my servants can’t help you on your journey.”
So they ate, and they told one another stories, and the evening passed with great merriment. When they were finished the White Cat flicked her tail, and the gloves brought out a tray with a single peach, whole and unblemished.
"When you go back to your father, eat this peach as you reach the gate. Keep the pit and give it to the king as your offering. Trust me.
“My servants have fed and watered your horse, he’s rested, and your rations have been filled. If the king asks anything else of you, come back and I will help you again.”
So the prince returned to his chamber, and left early the next morning - indeed, his horse had never looked better, and his rucksack had never been so full of delicious treats.
When he reached the gate of the castle, he took out the peach and ate it - never had he tasted such a wonderful treat, and the juice dripped down his chin in streams. He saw the banners of his brothers, and knew he was the last to return.
The young prince rushed inside where his brothers offerings were already being weighed;
From the eldest prince: a fine, sturdy twine, which the people of the North used to braid nets for trapping game.
From the middle prince: a delicate, satin thread, which the people of the West used to catch deep water beasts.
Then the youngest prince ran up, his face and hands covered in sticky sweet juice. His brothers, the courtiers, and the councilors laughed at the sight.
“Could you not stop eating long enough to fulfill my request?” barked the king.
“But I did, father! I bring you this offering from the East!” and he held out the peach pit, as Lady Cat had instructed. The laughter rose, filling the hall and ringing in the young prince’s ear.
“And how am I supposed to entertain myself with this?” queried the king, now offended that he seemed to be being made a joke of by his youngest son. In anger (and embarrassment) he threw the peach pit over his shoulder and it cracked against the wall. From the crack in the pit spilled the finest, daintiest, most lovely silver and gold cording - the hall was hushed in amazement as one of the king’s advisers brought the gift back up to the king. The whole council gathered round, handling and inspecting the thread.
“I’ve heard of this before…” whispered one, so that only the king could hear, “a long, long time ago, there was a kingdom to the East which produced a cord that could be used to capture Joy. I never thought I’d see it in my lifetime.”
So the winner was declared: The youngest prince had brought the finest thread of the lot!
The next day the king announced his next request;
“If I am going to retire, I should like to have a companion - a pet. I wish for my sons to each bring me the smallest, smartest dog they can find, that I may be entertained in my abdication.”
Once again, the princes set off; the eldest to the North, the middle to the West, and the youngest, once more, to the East.
Following the same path, but now better prepared, it still took from full moon to full moon before he found the gates of the White Cat’s palace. He was ushered in and cared for by the gloves, just as he was before - his horse led away, but he no longer feared his trusty, loyal steeds fate. Three days he spent in the luxurious chamber, and on the third night he once again joined Lady Cat for an evening meal.
“Have my servants treated you well?” she queried.
“I have nary a want for anything,” he replied.
“And what does your father, the king, seek this time?”
“The smallest, smartest dog - that he might be entertained and kept company when he abdicates the throne.”
Once more, the White Cat purred and it sounded almost like a laugh.
“Let us eat and enjoy one another’s company, and when we are done, I will see what my servants and I can offer you.”
So they ate and carried on, just as they had before, and at the end of the meal the white gloves brought out a tray with a single, bright red cherry.
“When you go back to your father, eat this cherry as you enter the door. Give the pit to him as your offering. Trust me, and should he ask you for anything else, please, come see me again,” said Lady Cat, a secret hiding behind her wide green eyes.
The youngest prince thanked her, and left the next morning. Full moon to full moon, he journeyed back home where, once again, his brothers’ banners already waved. As he entered the door, he popped the White Cat’s gift in his mouth, and watched his brothers present their gifts.
From the eldest prince, a dark hound he could hold in his two hands; the people of the North trained them to catch vipers and vermin and bring them back to their master.
From the middle prince, a pale hound he could hold in a single hand; the people of the West trained them to corral songbirds for their master.
“And what do you bring me?” the king asked his youngest son. “Have you gotten so distracted you come before me empty handed?”
The youngest prince shook his head, but as he did so, the cherry pit lodged in his throat. He hacked and choked and wheezed, the whole court was in a panic. Finally one of his brothers came up and slapped him on the back. The cherry pit dislodged and broke at the feet of the king, and from the pit emerged the tiniest, bright red hound, which could easily run laps upon the king’s palm.
The council converged on the king once more, allowing the little red dog to run over and over their hands in turn. “I’ve heard of this before…” whispered on of the advisers, so that only the king could hear, “A long, long time ago, there was a kingdom to the east who trained a breed of hounds to hunt down Sweet Dreams for their master’s sleep. I never thought I’d see one in my lifetime.”
Once more, the youngest prince was acknowledged as the victor, and the next day the king made his final request;
“I wish to ensure the future of my kingdom after I step down. Each of you must go and find a worthy bride. I must know that my lineage will continue.”
And everything occurred just as it had before. The princes set off, the youngest to the East, on arrival he was greeted by the gloves, three days later he dined with the White Cat.
“Have my servants treated you well?” she queried.
“I have nary a want in the world,” the youngest prince sighed despondently.
“And what does your father, the king, seek this time?”
“He wants me to find a bride… a worthy bride to ensure his kingdom and his lineage.”
“You seem unhappy, little prince… Let us eat, and enjoy ourselves, and we will see what we can do.”
The evening passed much as they had before, though a shadow loomed over the young prince. When the meal was over, the White Cat twitched her nose and the gloves began clearing the table.
“So what is your solution this time, Lady Cat?” asked the prince.
Her green eyes glimmered and she tilted her head, “This one is a bit tricky, so you must listen carefully. Bring me with you to your father, the king. Introduce me as your bride. No matter what, you must not intervene. Trust me, or all will be lost.”
In the morning, the gloves had prepared a coach of fine silver, with all the same trimmings as their mistresses palanquin. The young prince’s horse was bridled in equal finery to pull them back to the young prince’s home.
All occurred just as before; the king’s two elder sons had already made it back and were introducing their betrothed.
The eldest prince brought the feisty and determined princess from the North Mountains.
The middle prince had brought the artistic and soulful princess of the Western Shores.
When the youngest prince alighted from the fine silver carriage, carrying in his arms the White Cat who had helped him so on his journeys, the king scoffed.
“Do you mock my crown, my throne, and my kingdom by bringing me a cat as a daughter-in-law? How will she ensure my lineage? How will she help care for me in my old age?”
In his anger, the king drew his sword and thrust at his youngest child… but the White Cat was still in his arms, and she took the blow. However, just as with the fruit pits, from the creatures wound climbed the most lovely, most elegant, and most charming young lady, decked out in silver and gold finery. Her green eyes flashed at the king and the court;
“Three months, this young man has courted me; three times have I fulfilled his and your king’s requests. I am princess Catarina of the Eastern Woods. My kingdom has been cursed… I can’t remember for how long, but in fulfilling my requests, this young prince has set us free. If he will have me, he will have my kingdom as well.”
The king agreed, because this also meant he would not have to abdicate after all - the son who won the contest now had his own kingdom to rule, and his elder sons had also found suitable matches and women they loved so they no longer envied the throne as they had before.
Catarina and the youngest prince returned to their palace in the Eastern Woods, where all the magical floating gloves were now repopulated with the servants and courtiers who had once been cursed.
And they lived happily ever after…
BTW, this is totally not an exact/accurate retelling - I think this came from a Russian fairy tale book, but it’s probably been 8+ years since I read it. Hope it’s worth the lengthy post 
12 Likes
That’s a really great story!
7 Likes
Wow, I love this!! You did a fantastic job with the retelling!!
7 Likes
Wow, yeah, for once i was actually enthralled by a lengthy bit of internet text. Not bad at all, ill probably retell it one day, around a campfire late at night, with stars overhead and the waves crashing nearby.
(Im going camping in 3 days with like 30 other larpers for 3 days, and ill be using this to fit my bard persona)
7 Likes
I love that idea! Mountie stories journeying through vast fandoms and across the globe 
6 Likes