Friedrich and the Moon
Mar. 28th, 2025 07:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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the_scent_of_lilacsFilm: Nosferatu 24
Character: Friedrich Harding
Word count: 640 approx
Potential mild TWs re childbirth
The announcement of Thomas' engagement had not pleased Friedrich.
He had hidden it of course; any lack of enthusiasm on his part would be unseemly. Thomas, little brother by heart if not blood! Friedrich had been taking care of him since their school days and wished he could do the same now, be as brutally honest as he would have been back then, boy to boy;
'Why her? She has a face like a pie and all she does is have fits.'
He couldn't even speak his thoughts on the matter with Anna. Anna and Thomas... Friedrich shook his head at the thought of them, kindred spirits those two, kindly collectors of strays. Unfortunately the same stray seemed to have been collected by each, and he couldn't help suspecting she enjoyed the attention. She scraped his nerves with her needy pawings and famished eyes.
'Ugh,' He only spoke his thoughts to the night sky once the guests had gone, 'she's such a hungry thing.'
And there it was, the warning in his heart that hunger feeds itself first and only. Yes, she was irritating but more important - he chuckled at himself for putting it so crudely - exactly what was the woman for? How could Ellen, always in need of help, be of help to anyone? Could such a clinging hysteric become a strong wife and mother? He felt for Thomas, dedicating himself to all that instead of finding a golden Anna-like. Even supposing Ellen could birth children (Friedrich's scepticism was lavish on that subject. There was bound to be some rare ailment or other that made her too special and the deed too complicated) what would her babes be doing while she was rolling around in the sand rubbing her petticoats between her legs? He inevitably raised his eyebrows at these little shenanigans, too familiar with after-dinner conversations not to understand what they meant.
'Good luck to him,' he thought, 'poor Thomas! Old Nick himself couldn't satisfy that one.'
Friedrich realised he was somewhat the worse for wine and turned to the new moon, so thin and starved looking. Pitiful, he thought, until the clouds fell away and pellucid beams touched the roof tiles of the old town, made them sparkle as if they and the waves of the sea were kin. It was then he recalled old tales about saluting the moon, country girls curtseying to say:
'Hail to thee new moon, hail to thee new moon!
I hope that you will bring me a present very soon!'
No curtseying for him, even attempting a bow made him stumble against the balcony's edge.
'Whoops,' he said as he steadied himself, 'talk about a few sheets to the wind!' Then he looked up at the growing light and spoke.
'They're wrong for each other,' he said. 'We all know it. Thomas wants life, a family. God alone knows what she wants.'
He smiled at the witless rubbish passing through his head. Did he think the moon was going to reply?
'They'll be carting me off to Siever's place next! Still,' he lifted his voice, ice in the glass chinking like laughter, 'let's make a promise, seeing as I'm drunk and she's one of yours. I'll do my best for the mad little brach if you promise not to let her drain him flat with her clamourings. He's an innocent.' Friedrich took a deep breath, 'truly. Few of those around and she's not one of them. We know that don't we?' He winked. 'So here it is; you look after him, I look after her. Bargain?'
He grinned at the moon and drank deep before staggering back towards the warm cigar smoke curling through the house.
Shining in the dark where the clouds hide nothing, the slit pupil of the moon watched him close his windows, turn inwards to his love, and forget their conversation.
Character: Friedrich Harding
Word count: 640 approx
Potential mild TWs re childbirth
The announcement of Thomas' engagement had not pleased Friedrich.
He had hidden it of course; any lack of enthusiasm on his part would be unseemly. Thomas, little brother by heart if not blood! Friedrich had been taking care of him since their school days and wished he could do the same now, be as brutally honest as he would have been back then, boy to boy;
'Why her? She has a face like a pie and all she does is have fits.'
He couldn't even speak his thoughts on the matter with Anna. Anna and Thomas... Friedrich shook his head at the thought of them, kindred spirits those two, kindly collectors of strays. Unfortunately the same stray seemed to have been collected by each, and he couldn't help suspecting she enjoyed the attention. She scraped his nerves with her needy pawings and famished eyes.
'Ugh,' He only spoke his thoughts to the night sky once the guests had gone, 'she's such a hungry thing.'
And there it was, the warning in his heart that hunger feeds itself first and only. Yes, she was irritating but more important - he chuckled at himself for putting it so crudely - exactly what was the woman for? How could Ellen, always in need of help, be of help to anyone? Could such a clinging hysteric become a strong wife and mother? He felt for Thomas, dedicating himself to all that instead of finding a golden Anna-like. Even supposing Ellen could birth children (Friedrich's scepticism was lavish on that subject. There was bound to be some rare ailment or other that made her too special and the deed too complicated) what would her babes be doing while she was rolling around in the sand rubbing her petticoats between her legs? He inevitably raised his eyebrows at these little shenanigans, too familiar with after-dinner conversations not to understand what they meant.
'Good luck to him,' he thought, 'poor Thomas! Old Nick himself couldn't satisfy that one.'
Friedrich realised he was somewhat the worse for wine and turned to the new moon, so thin and starved looking. Pitiful, he thought, until the clouds fell away and pellucid beams touched the roof tiles of the old town, made them sparkle as if they and the waves of the sea were kin. It was then he recalled old tales about saluting the moon, country girls curtseying to say:
'Hail to thee new moon, hail to thee new moon!
I hope that you will bring me a present very soon!'
No curtseying for him, even attempting a bow made him stumble against the balcony's edge.
'Whoops,' he said as he steadied himself, 'talk about a few sheets to the wind!' Then he looked up at the growing light and spoke.
'They're wrong for each other,' he said. 'We all know it. Thomas wants life, a family. God alone knows what she wants.'
He smiled at the witless rubbish passing through his head. Did he think the moon was going to reply?
'They'll be carting me off to Siever's place next! Still,' he lifted his voice, ice in the glass chinking like laughter, 'let's make a promise, seeing as I'm drunk and she's one of yours. I'll do my best for the mad little brach if you promise not to let her drain him flat with her clamourings. He's an innocent.' Friedrich took a deep breath, 'truly. Few of those around and she's not one of them. We know that don't we?' He winked. 'So here it is; you look after him, I look after her. Bargain?'
He grinned at the moon and drank deep before staggering back towards the warm cigar smoke curling through the house.
Shining in the dark where the clouds hide nothing, the slit pupil of the moon watched him close his windows, turn inwards to his love, and forget their conversation.
