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FoxFire · 06-13-2008, 09:03 PM

Hi everyone!

Well, I be Fox

, and I am here to share my wizarding tale with you. I entered it in the Beedle the Bard contest, but it was over the word limit, so it wasn't eligible for voting. But, I hardly ever write fics...in fact I've never written one so this would count as my first

I'd like you guys to read it, since I really like how it came out

Also, please note that this is a finished story and that there won't be any additions to it, and it'll be moved into Finished Fics in a month

So, here goes:

The Full Body Hair Curse

by Foxxxxx

*sets mood lighting with the wand that I made a couple of weeks ago and I can't find my camera cord so I haven't posted a picture of it but I will when I find it I promise*

Once, long ago, in a handsome stone cottage near a rushing river, there lived a wizard named Esau who was terribly hairy. Imagine your hairiest uncle, with body hair spouting out of his collar and over his hands and fingers, like a half-transformed werewolf. Much worse than this was the plight of our Esau, for his body hair grew long all over his body, so that he looked quite like a yeti. This was the result of a curse cast upon him in his youth.

When he was a young and normally hairy wizard, Esau lived in the cottage with his beautiful wife, Veruca. Veruca’s green eyes, mesmerizing as the rolling hills of Ireland; glowing skin like rays of sunshine in a crisp autumn; and tumbling black hair, wild as the moors, had captivated Esau since the moment he saw her in the local pub. Veruca, in turn, thought Esau was quite nice, and was happy to make her home with him by the river.

One evening, after a long day of tree-harvesting (that was Esau’s trade; he harvested trees for wands and broomsticks), Esau went to the local Wizarding town for a drink. At the pub, Esau drank merrily with his friends, becoming louder and more boisterous with each replete tankard of firewhisky.

At the counter, a well-known warlock was talking with his companion. Snatches of their conversation could be heard over the din, and Esau’s friends caught the word, “Mudblood”. For the warlock was haughty and proud, and campaigned against Muggle rights and tolerance, as he considered them to be leagues beneath him.

At this, Esau rose to his unsteady feet, and roared at the warlock. Esau’s beloved mother had been a Muggle, and the kindest person he’d ever known, and he thus considered the warlock and his views to be leagues beneath him. Shortly, to the barmaid’s great dismay (for she was a Squib and could do no magic to stop them), wands were drawn from beneath cloaks. The other wizards foolishly joined in the fray, and soon the pub was full of shouts, flashing colors, and smoke.

A particularly loud bang and a flash of bright light erupted from where Esau and the warlock were dueling. Thick gray smoke cleared, and warlock stood over Esau, who was crumpled on the floor. The warlock stowed away his wand and swept from the pub, eyes flashing. Esau was covered in hair from head to foot; indeed, it was difficult to see which end was which, for it looked like the warlock had simply covered him with a furry blanket. Dazed, Esau stumbled home to the cottage, and dropped into bed beside his wife.

He awoke the next morning to an earsplitting scream.

Veruca was, understandably, shocked to wake up next to a yeti. She jumped out of bed, grabbed her wand, and began shooting spells at Esau.

Thrown off guard, Esau rolled to the floor and stupidly held his arms over his head.

“Verry, it’s me!” he called out. “Stop it!”

At the sound of his voice, Veruca lowered her wand slowly.

“Esau?” she said tentatively, horror in her face.

“Yes,” replied Esau, his face in his hands.

Trembling, Esau told the story of the duel in the pub. He explained that he didn’t know what the warlock had done to him, and begged for help.

Veruca’s expression had changed. But it had not changed to the love and pity Esau wanted; she now wore a mask of cold, unforgiving indifference.

“You look disgusting,” she spat. “Exactly like a yeti. I can’t be married to you! It’s disgraceful!”

Despite her husband’s terrified, tearful pleas, Veruca left the cottage that very same day.

And so Esau lived alone in the cottage, an outcast. The curse that the old warlock had placed upon him was quite permanent, and he would be a hairy monster for the rest of his days. But he still loved Veruca. She went to another village, and found a new, smooth husband. Under the cover of darkest night, he watched her with her new husband in their home, and each time she kissed him, Esau’s heart broke anew. He wondered if, in his state, he could ever be loved again.

Some years later, a witch named Dilwyn came to live in the nearby village. Dilwyn was plain, with brown eyes and brown hair in a long plait. She helped witches bear children in their homes, and longed for a family of her own. Soon she heard the story of the yeti-man in the neighboring cottage, and pitied the man. Dilwyn had a kind heart, and thought what had happened to Esau was simply awful.

One day, Dilwyn made the trip to the river, and fished for plimpies. Soon she spotted Esau; he was at a nearby tree, pulling its bark. And she thought he wasn’t frightening at all. Interesting, more like. Her curiosity got the best of her.

She approached him and said softly, “Excuse me.”

Esau jumped a mile and drew his wand. He hadn’t been spoken to in years. He was more used to jeers from young boys, who would throw sweets at him and laugh when they got stuck in his hair.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Dilwyn said. “I just wanted to know if you have a basket that I could use. For the plimpies.”

Still shocked, Esau led Dilwyn to the cottage, where he plucked a hand-woven basket from a pile of many.

“Did you make all these yourself?” Dilwyn asked, admiring the baskets.

“Yes,” answered Esau quietly. “I’m a tree-harvester.”

Dilwyn looked around the cottage, complimenting the many expertly handmade items. She offered to stay and cook the plimpies for him. Esau, who hated cooking, obliged.

Soon, Dilwyn was making regular visits to Esau, and he welcomed her. It had been so long since Esau had spoken to someone, and he was terribly lonely. Dilwyn enjoyed Esau’s laughter and crinkly blue eyes; the only part of his body that was visible were his eyes. Esau’s affliction didn’t bother her at all; it fact, she rather liked it. It was rather like having a pet dog.

Before long, Dilwyn wished to marry Esau. Her visits grew longer as she delayed her departures. One sunny afternoon, Dilwyn and Esau sat outside making baskets. Dilwyn spoke.

“Esau,” she began.

“Yes, Dil?” he answered.

She looked at him tenderly for a moment. “I admire you so.”

He smiled. “And I, you, Dil. You’ve been so kind to me.”

She beamed. She opened her mouth and closed it. She tried again.

“I wish to be your wife. If you’ll have me.”

Esau’s mouth opened in shock. Some hair fell into his mouth, and he spit it out.

He liked Dilwyn very much. He enjoyed her company, but he did not love her. He pined for Veruca. Although he did not tell Dilwyn, he still watched Veruca every chance he could get.

“Dilwyn, I…I care for you very much,” he began. “But…I do not wish to be married again. I’ve only ever loved one woman. Maybe she will return one day.” The truth was that he’d not quite gotten close enough to Veruca to charm or curse her, but he did not say this.

Dilwyn’s brown eyes filled with tears. After all of the kindness and unconditional love she had shown him, he could not love her back. She ran from the cottage in tears. Esau did not follow her.

Walking by the river, tears staining her face, Dilwyn thought. She did not wish to live without Esau. Wiping her eyes, she chose a spot by the riverbank, and placed her wand near her feet, drawing it up to her crown. In a single stroke of the wand, she Transfigured herself into a tree, her wand falling from her hand as the bark spread down her arm. Perhaps, she thought, if I cannot reach his heart one way, I will try another. Maybe he will fashion me into something he likes.

The moral of this here wizarding tale:

Love comes in all shapes and sizes. Learn to recognize it for what is, instead of what you think it ought to be.

The End

06-13-2008, 09:03 PM	#1 (permalink)
FoxFire Re'em Join Date: Aug 2007 Location: Cloud 9,000 Posts: 19,633 Hogwarts RPG Name: Phineas Fischer Fourth Year	The Full Body Hair Curse - Sa9+ snortles MAMA!Shroom Hi everyone! Well, I be Fox , and I am here to share my wizarding tale with you. I entered it in the Beedle the Bard contest, but it was over the word limit, so it wasn't eligible for voting. But, I hardly ever write fics...in fact I've never written one so this would count as my first I'd like you guys to read it, since I really like how it came out Also, please note that this is a finished story and that there won't be any additions to it, and it'll be moved into Finished Fics in a month So, here goes: The Full Body Hair Curse by Foxxxxx sets mood lighting with the wand that I made a couple of weeks ago and I can't find my camera cord so I haven't posted a picture of it but I will when I find it I promise Once, long ago, in a handsome stone cottage near a rushing river, there lived a wizard named Esau who was terribly hairy. Imagine your hairiest uncle, with body hair spouting out of his collar and over his hands and fingers, like a half-transformed werewolf. Much worse than this was the plight of our Esau, for his body hair grew long all over his body, so that he looked quite like a yeti. This was the result of a curse cast upon him in his youth. When he was a young and normally hairy wizard, Esau lived in the cottage with his beautiful wife, Veruca. Veruca’s green eyes, mesmerizing as the rolling hills of Ireland; glowing skin like rays of sunshine in a crisp autumn; and tumbling black hair, wild as the moors, had captivated Esau since the moment he saw her in the local pub. Veruca, in turn, thought Esau was quite nice, and was happy to make her home with him by the river. One evening, after a long day of tree-harvesting (that was Esau’s trade; he harvested trees for wands and broomsticks), Esau went to the local Wizarding town for a drink. At the pub, Esau drank merrily with his friends, becoming louder and more boisterous with each replete tankard of firewhisky. At the counter, a well-known warlock was talking with his companion. Snatches of their conversation could be heard over the din, and Esau’s friends caught the word, “Mudblood”. For the warlock was haughty and proud, and campaigned against Muggle rights and tolerance, as he considered them to be leagues beneath him. At this, Esau rose to his unsteady feet, and roared at the warlock. Esau’s beloved mother had been a Muggle, and the kindest person he’d ever known, and he thus considered the warlock and his views to be leagues beneath him. Shortly, to the barmaid’s great dismay (for she was a Squib and could do no magic to stop them), wands were drawn from beneath cloaks. The other wizards foolishly joined in the fray, and soon the pub was full of shouts, flashing colors, and smoke. A particularly loud bang and a flash of bright light erupted from where Esau and the warlock were dueling. Thick gray smoke cleared, and warlock stood over Esau, who was crumpled on the floor. The warlock stowed away his wand and swept from the pub, eyes flashing. Esau was covered in hair from head to foot; indeed, it was difficult to see which end was which, for it looked like the warlock had simply covered him with a furry blanket. Dazed, Esau stumbled home to the cottage, and dropped into bed beside his wife. He awoke the next morning to an earsplitting scream. Veruca was, understandably, shocked to wake up next to a yeti. She jumped out of bed, grabbed her wand, and began shooting spells at Esau. Thrown off guard, Esau rolled to the floor and stupidly held his arms over his head. “Verry, it’s me!” he called out. “Stop it!” At the sound of his voice, Veruca lowered her wand slowly. “Esau?” she said tentatively, horror in her face. “Yes,” replied Esau, his face in his hands. Trembling, Esau told the story of the duel in the pub. He explained that he didn’t know what the warlock had done to him, and begged for help. Veruca’s expression had changed. But it had not changed to the love and pity Esau wanted; she now wore a mask of cold, unforgiving indifference. “You look disgusting,” she spat. “Exactly like a yeti. I can’t be married to you! It’s disgraceful!” Despite her husband’s terrified, tearful pleas, Veruca left the cottage that very same day. And so Esau lived alone in the cottage, an outcast. The curse that the old warlock had placed upon him was quite permanent, and he would be a hairy monster for the rest of his days. But he still loved Veruca. She went to another village, and found a new, smooth husband. Under the cover of darkest night, he watched her with her new husband in their home, and each time she kissed him, Esau’s heart broke anew. He wondered if, in his state, he could ever be loved again. Some years later, a witch named Dilwyn came to live in the nearby village. Dilwyn was plain, with brown eyes and brown hair in a long plait. She helped witches bear children in their homes, and longed for a family of her own. Soon she heard the story of the yeti-man in the neighboring cottage, and pitied the man. Dilwyn had a kind heart, and thought what had happened to Esau was simply awful. One day, Dilwyn made the trip to the river, and fished for plimpies. Soon she spotted Esau; he was at a nearby tree, pulling its bark. And she thought he wasn’t frightening at all. Interesting, more like. Her curiosity got the best of her. She approached him and said softly, “Excuse me.” Esau jumped a mile and drew his wand. He hadn’t been spoken to in years. He was more used to jeers from young boys, who would throw sweets at him and laugh when they got stuck in his hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Dilwyn said. “I just wanted to know if you have a basket that I could use. For the plimpies.” Still shocked, Esau led Dilwyn to the cottage, where he plucked a hand-woven basket from a pile of many. “Did you make all these yourself?” Dilwyn asked, admiring the baskets. “Yes,” answered Esau quietly. “I’m a tree-harvester.” Dilwyn looked around the cottage, complimenting the many expertly handmade items. She offered to stay and cook the plimpies for him. Esau, who hated cooking, obliged. Soon, Dilwyn was making regular visits to Esau, and he welcomed her. It had been so long since Esau had spoken to someone, and he was terribly lonely. Dilwyn enjoyed Esau’s laughter and crinkly blue eyes; the only part of his body that was visible were his eyes. Esau’s affliction didn’t bother her at all; it fact, she rather liked it. It was rather like having a pet dog. Before long, Dilwyn wished to marry Esau. Her visits grew longer as she delayed her departures. One sunny afternoon, Dilwyn and Esau sat outside making baskets. Dilwyn spoke. “Esau,” she began. “Yes, Dil?” he answered. She looked at him tenderly for a moment. “I admire you so.” He smiled. “And I, you, Dil. You’ve been so kind to me.” She beamed. She opened her mouth and closed it. She tried again. “I wish to be your wife. If you’ll have me.” Esau’s mouth opened in shock. Some hair fell into his mouth, and he spit it out. He liked Dilwyn very much. He enjoyed her company, but he did not love her. He pined for Veruca. Although he did not tell Dilwyn, he still watched Veruca every chance he could get. “Dilwyn, I…I care for you very much,” he began. “But…I do not wish to be married again. I’ve only ever loved one woman. Maybe she will return one day.” The truth was that he’d not quite gotten close enough to Veruca to charm or curse her, but he did not say this. Dilwyn’s brown eyes filled with tears. After all of the kindness and unconditional love she had shown him, he could not love her back. She ran from the cottage in tears. Esau did not follow her. Walking by the river, tears staining her face, Dilwyn thought. She did not wish to live without Esau. Wiping her eyes, she chose a spot by the riverbank, and placed her wand near her feet, drawing it up to her crown. In a single stroke of the wand, she Transfigured herself into a tree, her wand falling from her hand as the bark spread down her arm. Perhaps, she thought, if I cannot reach his heart one way, I will try another. Maybe he will fashion me into something he likes. The moral of this here wizarding tale: Love comes in all shapes and sizes. Learn to recognize it for what is, instead of what you think it ought to be. The End __________________ UNDER CONSTRUCTION YO.