Faiwicke Argyle's Lord Solitaire
Jul 1, 2010 5:05:13 GMT -5
Post by Swede on Jul 1, 2010 5:05:13 GMT -5
Name: Faiwicke Argyle's Lord Solitaire, aka "Solly"
Age: 8 years
Breed: Welsh
Height: 11.2 hh
Colour: Palomino
Eye Colour: Light brown
Gender: Stallion
Markings: Blaze, four socks
History: Born on a small stud farm, Faiwicke Argyle's Lord Solitaire had quite a flashy pedigree. At a young age, he was sold to a woman who could be described as an enthusiast; she had owned multiple Welshes before of similar caliber, and could not resist the young palomino stallion. She often showed him in driving competitions; more importantly, he was a pleasant companion for her grandchildren. Grandmama's pony Solly was sweet as could be, and all three of the little humans loved to ride him, racing across grassy meadows, bounding over brightly painted jumps, or just relaxing on his back under the big tree in the pasture.
Solly loved the children; he was also exceedingly fond of Grandmama. He understood both the fragility of the young ones and the frailty of the old one, and was gentle with all. On occasion, his pedigree and his accomplishments in the show ring attracted mare owners; with these petite mares he was friendly and charming. In short, Solly was a generally likeable and amicable sort. None, neither horse nor human, disliked him, and a good many loved him.
Alas, the old do not live forever; and Grandmama's time was cut further short, by a sudden and violent cancer. Within a few months after diagnosis, she fed Solly a last carrot and then traveled to the hospital which she would never again leave alive. The grandchildren wanted desperately to keep him; but Mother and Father said no. Solly was entrusted to an agent, to sell him to a good home for a decent sum.
He was a good, sensible pony, and ought to have come to a little farm somewhere, or a child who wished to compete. But the agent had friends in a different sort of business, friends who were in the market for an eye-catching, intelligent, obedient pony, and Solly fit the bill perfectly. The agent's friend Circusmaster acquired a new number to his show for a palfry sum, and thus, in the summer of his sixth year, Faiwicke Argyle's Lord Solitaire became Solly the trick pony.
Life wasn't too bad; it was a life of constant travel, cramped living spaces, and odd training methods, but Solly was a quick learner, and understood that as long as he performed each "trick" correctly, no matter how unnatural or uncomfortable it was, he would be fed and left alone. In fact, showtime was his favorite time, a time when he could stretch his legs in the spacious circus ring and get away from the crueler caretakers for a while.
Still, he wasn't entirely happy. In fact, he soon became downright grouchy, and stood with his ears half-pinned in his little portable stall whenever he wasn't needed. He was fed enough, and suffered no lack of nutrition, but it was also cheap, tasteless stuff. Several of the caretakers were kind, or at least neutral, but a few took delight in giving him an extra hard shove with a pitchfork, or jerking the bit deep into his tender mouth when leading him, or twisting his delicate golden ears when he did not immediately understand what was demanded. He was required to work in conjunction with a little dog during some shows, a vicious terrier which snapped at his heels. The massive elephants, grown bitter with years of hard, thankless service, made him nervous; the snarling lions whose jaws slavered if he was led past their cage terrified him. No, Solly was not quite happy; in fact, he became quite sour with time.
Solly decided that this simply would not do. He did not like being unhappy and snappish; he would much rather be cheery and jovial. But it was so difficult to maintain bright spirits here. He began hearing whispers among the others; nervous mutterings of the other ponies, snide remarks from the dogs, knowing expressions from the elephants. Solly was on fairly good terms with all the ponies and showhorses, but was particularly friendly with Mina. She was a white mare, Welsh like himself, rather cute and exceedingly charming, lovely Mina with whom he often performed. But Mina was one of the oldest, and slowly wearing down under the strenuous schedule. She could no longer move quite so quickly, or seem quite so flashy when she entered the circus ring. Solly did not give much thought to her possible retirement- until he began paying attention to the faint rumors circulating the circus. Mina's time was up; management was not happy with her anymore; she would be sent away. And those that were sent away never came back; they were loaded up on a truck, and their sale price was calculated by weight. Was it true? Yes, they told him, that was what had happened with the last one- the one that Solly had replaced.
Solly didn't believe it, not until he witnessed it with his very own eyes, how Mina was carefully weighed, and a fistful of green paper was exchanged. She would board the truck in the morning. That evening, Solly spoke with the broken-down mare in earnest tones. She refused his offers of help; what could he do? Instead, she gave him a piece of advice: get out. Now. Before he became a weary nag like the rest of them. Then she thanked him for being her friend. And then? Then she was gone.
Mina had not found a happy child to take her in and pamper her for the rest of her days. But Solly sensed that at least she had found peace, somewhere; she was not drudging along with the circus anymore. And with Mina gone, he realized there was absolutely nothing to keep him here anymore. It was one of the last shows of autumn, a wonderful opportunity; a rural town, certainly not one of the highlights of the schedule, and he was intended to perform a liberty act, with no restraining ropes or halters. Solly waltzed into the ring, reared and gave the crowd an impressive scream not normally part of the program, and galloped out between the stands, scattering people left and right. Before anyone could quite grasp the situation, he was gone, vanished into the protective treeline.
It was a lonely winter, his first in the wild, but he managed. His spirit had returned, the grouchy demeanor vanished as soon as the garish circus tent was out of sight. He encountered a few wild ones, horses several hands taller than he; but most did not cause him any harm. Solly offered only friendship, or at least a brief, pleasant meeting, and they found no reason not to return his sincerity. Only once did he encounter a group of young, restless bachelors, who promptly decided the funny little midget was a suitable target, and tore out a large chunk of his thick winter fur before he managed to escape. He has learned something of life's trials and sorrows, but has also known great happiness; when it comes to Solly, being miserable isn't worth it. Life is a gift, and he appreciates it to the fullest, always with fond memories of those past; Grandmama, who taught him the love of a human, and Mina, who taught him the love of a mare and a friend.
Age: 8 years
Breed: Welsh
Height: 11.2 hh
Colour: Palomino
Eye Colour: Light brown
Gender: Stallion
Markings: Blaze, four socks
History: Born on a small stud farm, Faiwicke Argyle's Lord Solitaire had quite a flashy pedigree. At a young age, he was sold to a woman who could be described as an enthusiast; she had owned multiple Welshes before of similar caliber, and could not resist the young palomino stallion. She often showed him in driving competitions; more importantly, he was a pleasant companion for her grandchildren. Grandmama's pony Solly was sweet as could be, and all three of the little humans loved to ride him, racing across grassy meadows, bounding over brightly painted jumps, or just relaxing on his back under the big tree in the pasture.
Solly loved the children; he was also exceedingly fond of Grandmama. He understood both the fragility of the young ones and the frailty of the old one, and was gentle with all. On occasion, his pedigree and his accomplishments in the show ring attracted mare owners; with these petite mares he was friendly and charming. In short, Solly was a generally likeable and amicable sort. None, neither horse nor human, disliked him, and a good many loved him.
Alas, the old do not live forever; and Grandmama's time was cut further short, by a sudden and violent cancer. Within a few months after diagnosis, she fed Solly a last carrot and then traveled to the hospital which she would never again leave alive. The grandchildren wanted desperately to keep him; but Mother and Father said no. Solly was entrusted to an agent, to sell him to a good home for a decent sum.
He was a good, sensible pony, and ought to have come to a little farm somewhere, or a child who wished to compete. But the agent had friends in a different sort of business, friends who were in the market for an eye-catching, intelligent, obedient pony, and Solly fit the bill perfectly. The agent's friend Circusmaster acquired a new number to his show for a palfry sum, and thus, in the summer of his sixth year, Faiwicke Argyle's Lord Solitaire became Solly the trick pony.
Life wasn't too bad; it was a life of constant travel, cramped living spaces, and odd training methods, but Solly was a quick learner, and understood that as long as he performed each "trick" correctly, no matter how unnatural or uncomfortable it was, he would be fed and left alone. In fact, showtime was his favorite time, a time when he could stretch his legs in the spacious circus ring and get away from the crueler caretakers for a while.
Still, he wasn't entirely happy. In fact, he soon became downright grouchy, and stood with his ears half-pinned in his little portable stall whenever he wasn't needed. He was fed enough, and suffered no lack of nutrition, but it was also cheap, tasteless stuff. Several of the caretakers were kind, or at least neutral, but a few took delight in giving him an extra hard shove with a pitchfork, or jerking the bit deep into his tender mouth when leading him, or twisting his delicate golden ears when he did not immediately understand what was demanded. He was required to work in conjunction with a little dog during some shows, a vicious terrier which snapped at his heels. The massive elephants, grown bitter with years of hard, thankless service, made him nervous; the snarling lions whose jaws slavered if he was led past their cage terrified him. No, Solly was not quite happy; in fact, he became quite sour with time.
Solly decided that this simply would not do. He did not like being unhappy and snappish; he would much rather be cheery and jovial. But it was so difficult to maintain bright spirits here. He began hearing whispers among the others; nervous mutterings of the other ponies, snide remarks from the dogs, knowing expressions from the elephants. Solly was on fairly good terms with all the ponies and showhorses, but was particularly friendly with Mina. She was a white mare, Welsh like himself, rather cute and exceedingly charming, lovely Mina with whom he often performed. But Mina was one of the oldest, and slowly wearing down under the strenuous schedule. She could no longer move quite so quickly, or seem quite so flashy when she entered the circus ring. Solly did not give much thought to her possible retirement- until he began paying attention to the faint rumors circulating the circus. Mina's time was up; management was not happy with her anymore; she would be sent away. And those that were sent away never came back; they were loaded up on a truck, and their sale price was calculated by weight. Was it true? Yes, they told him, that was what had happened with the last one- the one that Solly had replaced.
Solly didn't believe it, not until he witnessed it with his very own eyes, how Mina was carefully weighed, and a fistful of green paper was exchanged. She would board the truck in the morning. That evening, Solly spoke with the broken-down mare in earnest tones. She refused his offers of help; what could he do? Instead, she gave him a piece of advice: get out. Now. Before he became a weary nag like the rest of them. Then she thanked him for being her friend. And then? Then she was gone.
Mina had not found a happy child to take her in and pamper her for the rest of her days. But Solly sensed that at least she had found peace, somewhere; she was not drudging along with the circus anymore. And with Mina gone, he realized there was absolutely nothing to keep him here anymore. It was one of the last shows of autumn, a wonderful opportunity; a rural town, certainly not one of the highlights of the schedule, and he was intended to perform a liberty act, with no restraining ropes or halters. Solly waltzed into the ring, reared and gave the crowd an impressive scream not normally part of the program, and galloped out between the stands, scattering people left and right. Before anyone could quite grasp the situation, he was gone, vanished into the protective treeline.
It was a lonely winter, his first in the wild, but he managed. His spirit had returned, the grouchy demeanor vanished as soon as the garish circus tent was out of sight. He encountered a few wild ones, horses several hands taller than he; but most did not cause him any harm. Solly offered only friendship, or at least a brief, pleasant meeting, and they found no reason not to return his sincerity. Only once did he encounter a group of young, restless bachelors, who promptly decided the funny little midget was a suitable target, and tore out a large chunk of his thick winter fur before he managed to escape. He has learned something of life's trials and sorrows, but has also known great happiness; when it comes to Solly, being miserable isn't worth it. Life is a gift, and he appreciates it to the fullest, always with fond memories of those past; Grandmama, who taught him the love of a human, and Mina, who taught him the love of a mare and a friend.
