Arinnnnnnn

Arinnnnnn is a pxls user renowned for telling the "horse joke" and harassing Pxls moderator Pannenkoek, he is also the leader of Kitty Pxls

The Tale of the Horse

A horse is ploughing its field one day, when it spies a military caravan passing by. There are columns of footmen, then archers, and then rank after rank of proud knights on dashing steeds, their manes blowing in the breeze, their mighty hooves thudding in rhythm on the road. Each is wearing a fluttering caparison of colourful silk, decorated in bold heraldic colours. The horse watches, his mouth open, as they pass. He has never seen a sight more beautiful. He didn’t even know that a horse could look so fine. “One day,” says the draught horse, “I will look as fine as that. I’ll bear a proud knight on my back, and I’ll be accorded all the honour in the world.” The farmer who owns him laughs, and says “how are you going to be a knight’s horse? You’ve got all of this field, and the next, to plough, and that’s before we even get any sowing done.” The horse finishes his day’s work quietly in thought, and is led back to the stable. The next day, the farmer wakes, and is amazed to find all his fields ploughed in the night, with his horse waiting patiently outside the stable. “I ploughed it all during the night, and saved you weeks of work. Surely you could send me to be a knight’s horse, now?” The farmer shakes his head, and says “You’re the finest horse I’ve ever had, if you can plough these fields all by yourself, at night. Why would I send you off to be a knight’s horse?” “Now, come on, we’ve got the sowing to do!”

A year passes, and the horse has resigned himself to his work. He works hard, but dreams of a better life. And then, one day, the horse spies another military caravan passing by. There are, again, columns of footmen, and columns of archers, and then a great host of knights in bright raiment, each riding a grand warhorse. Each is armoured in shining steel, and their flanks seem to shimmer as they pass by. The horse’s bit drops from his mouth in amazement as he watches them go past. “One day,” he thinks to himself, “I’ll be a mighty warhorse like that. I’ll wear steel plate armour, and charge into battle, and have a brave knight on my back!” His farmer laughs again, and says “Come on, you’ll never be a war horse. You’re a farm horse, you’ve got work to do. We’ve got all of this field, and the next, to plough, and summer’s not too far off, we’ll need you to pull the wagon so we can take our grain to market!” The horse thinks quietly to himself as he finishes the day’s work, and he’s led back to the stables. However, during the night, there is a fire, and the farmer and his family are killed. The horse struggles valiantly, but is unable to rescue them, and is coughing smoke and dizzy by the time he escapes the blaze.

In the morning, he is taken in by the people from the local town, who wonder out loud what to do with him. The horse, devastated by the loss of his family, stays silent. The townsfolk finally decide to sell the horse, and a passing trader takes him on the road. After a few days, the horse has mostly recovered from breathing all the smoke, and is walking along the road, and realises that the trader is talking to him. “I was wondering what it was you used to do, back on that farm?” The horse coughs, and then finally speaks up. “Well, I used to be koff a plough horse. I once ploughed two whole fields in a night, just to koff impress my owner. But I always koff wanted to be… no, it’s silly, don’t worry.” The trader, being a kind and generous soul, inquires. “What is it? Tell me?” The horse replies “Well, I always wanted to be a fancy koff warhorse, and carry a knight into battle. I’m strong, and I’m smart… koff I think I’d do really well at it.” The trader thinks for a while, and says “Well, I’m headed to a big city. I can always ask around and see if there are any knights who need a new horse.” The horse is overcome with joy, and thanks the trader enthusiastically. A few weeks pass, and the horse and the trader reach the big city. They search the markets for days before finding an old knight whose last horse was retired. The knight inspects the horse carefully and asks him many questions. “How old are you?” “What kind of work have you done?” “Pulled a plough, eh? Hmmm” “Ploughed a whole field in one night? Well, that’s something…” “Injured in a fire, you say? Hmmm…. That’s a pity.” “A pity, you say? koff Why’s that?” Asks the horse, alarmed. “Well, a warhorse needs to be able to breathe hard as he gallops. You couldn’t do that, not with that cough you have!” Says the knight sadly.

The horse, heartbroken that he would never get to be a knight’s horse and dress in bright armour, becomes intent on drinking his troubles away. The horse walks into a bar, and the bartender asks “Why the long face?”