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hetalia2009-07-28 11:01 pm
nike2422.livejournal.com) wrote in hetalia2009-07-28 11:01 pm
Entry tags:
[fanfic] A Little Knowledge ...
Title: A Little Knowledge …
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nike2422
Rating: G
Character(s)/Pairing(s): England, young America, young Canada
Warnings: Small children drawing the wrong conclusions? Also having to eat England’s cooking.
Summary: Young America finds a verse in England’s handwriting that that makes very little sense. With Young Canada’s help, he is determined to find out what it all means.
Time Frame: Colonial America
Older Stuff
America looked up from his primer for the hundredth time in the past hour and gazed wistfully out the window. It was a beautiful spring day: warm and sunny, the perfect day to be outdoors exploring until suppertime. He could see a man herding goats down the path towards town. Fishing boats were out in the harbor, and far off in the distance America could see England’s ship, its tall masts reaching into the sky as if it could touch the clouds.
“America stop fidgeting and finish your lessons.”
The little colony peered over his schoolbook across the table at England who was busy writing a letter. He had stopped writing long enough to stir his tea while reading over what he had just wrote. America frowned and blurted out sullenly “When can I go outside? This is boring.”
“After you finish your lessons.” England answered, still reading over his letter as he took a sip of tea.
The little colony slouched in his chair, kicking his dangling feet back and forth. “Why do I have to do lessons?”
“So that you can go to grammar school, don’t slouch.”
“Why do I have to go to grammar school?”
“So you can learn Latin.”
“Why do I have to learn Latin?”
“Because all properly educated Englishmen know Latin.”
“Why do I have to be an Englishman?”
“ENOUGH!” England shouted, jumping out of his seat. “What compels you to ask such ridiculous questions?”
America shrugged his little shoulders. “I dunno.”
England stared at the little boy looking up at him with guileless blue eyes. For a moment he felt a twinge of sympathy, remembering back to his own days stuck in a schoolroom learning his letters when there was a world outside to explore. He sighed and shuffled through the pile of books on the table next to America, found his old copybook and put it in front of the little colony, flipping pages until he found a blank one. He pushed the quill and inkpot closer to America and said, “Spend some time working on your penmanship and then you can go outside, alright?”
“Okay.” America sighed and picked up the quill. He pressed it on the page in the copybook and a large black spot spread over the page. He looked up at England who stood with hands on hips watching him. His eyebrows went up which meant, “keep going” and America went back to scribbling the letters from the passage in his primer. England returned to his seat and resumed writing his letter.
Halfway through copying the passage a second time America found his eyes wandering away from his schoolwork and back to the scene outdoors. A butterfly flitted in front of the window briefly before lighting on a flower. There was a loud throat clearing from the other end of the table and America looked back to see England watching him. He dipped the quill in the inkpot and went back to work, but found the pages had flipped over to a part of the copybook that already been written in. America started reading the neat, even writing that he knew to be England’s. He turned the page to look at the poem written there and noticed a small bit of writing in the margin. He looked closer and read:
Germans woo like lions,
Italians like foxes,
Spaniards like friars,
and Frenchmen like stinging bees.
America frowned and asked, “England, what does woo mean?”
“What?” England looked up, a confused look on his face.
“This word right here.” America asked again, holding up the copybook and pointing at the word written on the page so England could see.
“Oh blast!” England swore, a deep blush showing on his cheeks as he jumped to his feet to retrieve the book from America. The little colony flinched and squeaked, dropping the book on the floor.
“Give me that book!” England shouted as America scrambled under the table to retrieve it. He felt a hand grab his collar and he was yanked back to his feet.
“Here it is, I was just fetching it for you.” America offered with a sheepish smile.
England snatched the book away and fumed. “Lessons are done for today, run along!”
“Yippee!” America exclaimed as he turned and ran down the hall. England watched him disappear, shaking his head in exasperation. He felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down to see who was there.
Another little boy looked up at him. “England, can I go too? I finished all my lessons.” He held up his copybook to show his rows of neatly written letters.
“Uhm … why … sure, you can go now er … uhh … “ England stammered, frowning down at the boy and snapping his fingers, trying to remember who he was.
“I’m Canada.” He offered.
‘Right, off you go then!” England said with a final snap and pointed at the boy and smiled. “Canada.”
Canada grinned at England as he slid down from his chair to catch up with America.
England sighed and sank wearily into the just vacated chair, watching his other little colony run to catch up with America. Kumajirou woke from his nap under the table and waddled off after them.
“America! Wait up!” Canada called after him.
America turned and watched him run up. “He let you go free too I see.”
“I finished all my work.”
“Teacher’s pet teacher’s pet!” America teased.
“No I’m not, you are! He can’t even remember my name!”
“Haha, I know right? Who? Who? You’d think we had an owl living in the house.” America laughed as he started to walk away.
“Where are you going?” Canada asked, trotting to keep up.
America pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. “To find someone who can tell me what this means.”
Canada’s eyes grew large when he realized what America had done. “You tore that out of your copybook?” He asked.
“Yep, it used to be his copybook, his handwriting’s all over it. He wrote this too.” America added smugly, pointing out the small verse written in the margin of the paper.
Canada read it, frowning, “What does ‘woo’ mean?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out right now.” America grinned. “Too bad France isn’t here anymore, I bet he knows.”
Canada stood for a moment, watching America walk away then said, “Wait! There’s a dictionary in the library, let’s try there.”
America turned back and gave Canada a quizzical look. “Library?”
“It’s a room with books, c’mon.” The other colony said, giving America a stern look not unlike England as he walked past him.
“I knew that!” America grumbled, running to catch up.
Canada walked up to the shelf where the dictionary was and pulled it down, he knelt on the floor and started thumbing through the pages; America sat down next to him and crossed his legs Indian style, amazed at how easily Canada flipped to the page where the word was. “Wow, you’re really good at that.” He blurted out.
“The dictionary is your friend.” Canada said, running his finger down the column of words. America stuck his tongue out.
“Here it is! Canada shouted, his finger pointing to the word on the page.
“Read it.” America said. Canada leaned over to get closer to the page:
1. to seek the favor, affection, or love of, esp. with a view to marriage.
2. to make love to a woman; court: He went wooing.
Canada looked up at America, blushing. America looked at him, a look of utter disgust on his face. “Love? Marriage? Women? Does that mean girls? GROSS!”
“I guess so,” Canada said, closing the dictionary and putting it back on the shelf.
America read the verse again, scowling at the paper when it failed to tell him what it meant. “Soooo, what does it mean, “Germany woos like a lion?””
“I guess it means Germany finds a girlfriend like a lion does.”
“Okay, so how does a lion do that?”
I don’t know, but there’s a book here about animals, maybe there’s something about lions in there.” Canada offered, walking to another part of the room and skimming over the shelves until he stopped and pointed to a book that was on a shelf too high. “There it is America, can you help me?”
America stood up and grabbed the book on his tiptoes. He looked at the front cover, which read ANTHOLOGY OF ANIMALS OF THE WORLD.
“Thanks,” Canada said, taking the book and sitting down on the floor. America joined him and they opened the book between them. Again Canada quickly turned the pages until he came to a big letter “L”, then slowed down until he came to the part about lions. He started reading:
Lion mating is notoriously quick, repetitive, and unsuccessful. The male usually initiates copulation with a mating snarl, which is intended to excite the female. If the female does not respond, the male lion may lick her neck, back, or shoulders until she complies.
“Ewwwwwww! Gross!” America made a face like he wanted to throw up. “Germans like to lick girls? Disgusting!”
“Père France always said Germans were horrible people.” Canada replied, looking rather pale as he continued to read the passage to himself.
“Find the part about foxes next, maybe they’re not so gross.” America said encouragingly.
“Okay.” Canada said, thumbing through the pages until he came to the letter “F”. “Foxes, here we go.” And he started to read:
A fox and vixen will occasionally encounter one another in their territories. Earlier in the season they will take notice of one another but with only limited interest. As time goes on, they will spend increasingly longer amounts of time with one another, and their normally solitary footprints become paired tracks in the snow. They engage in affectionate play, spend time in close contact with each other, and generally get to know more about their mates.
“What’s a vixen?” America asked.
“Uhm, that’s the girl fox.” Canada sighed.
“There’s something wrong with a fox if he wants to play with a girl.” America said.
“I think vixen can also mean pretty lady.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I overheard Père France one time point at a lady and say, “There goes a saucy vixen.””
“Really?” America asked. “France is pretty weird though. What does the book say about Friars?”
Canada rolled his eyes. “Friars aren’t animals, America they’re people. We’ll have to find another book to learn about them.”
America looked at Canada and whined, “Another book? Isn’t there an easier way to do this that doesn’t make you have to read?”
Canada spun around and glared at America. “What are you complaining about I’m the one doing all the reading!”
“Fine do it your way then.” The colony muttered, crossing his arms.
Finding a book about friars took a bit longer, but eventually with both colonies looking they located a book about monastic orders and began searching for something about the wooing abilities of friars. After looking through the book cover to cover, Canada looked up at America frowning, “This is so odd, it says nothing about how a friar woos.”
“Maybe there’s something in that part about the daily life of a friar, let’s read that again.” America offered.
Canada flipped back to the page America mentioned and they both began to read carefully, looking for clues:
9:00 am The friars would work with the children teaching them religion, music, language etc.
10:00 am They would visit the sick and elderly.
11:00 am The friars would have their midday meal of fruit, soup, milk, and bread. 12:00 noon They went to the church to pray the Angelus and other midday prayers. Prayer was followed by a siesta of several hours.
2:00 pm The mission once again came alive with work. The friars would continue to visit, counsel or write letters and reports.
3:00 pm They took time to say the Rosary or other prayers and devotions.
4:00 pm The padres once again worked with the children, especially instructing them in music or games.
5:00 pm More prayers and the Doctrina in the Church.
6:00 pm Vespers or evening prayer was recited.
7:00 pm The friars would have a light evening meal of soup, bread, and fruit. After the meal the friars would relax, read, play cards and socialize until night prayer and time for bed, in most cases not much later than 9:00 pm, only to awake around two in the morning and start all over again.
Canada looked up shaking his head, “I don’t get it, it doesn’t say anything about wooing at all, just teaching and playing games with children and saying lots of prayers.”
“Yeah, that is really strange,” America said, feeling very confused. “At least a bee is an animal, let’s get the other book.
“Uh, you read that one,” Canada said, blushing a deep red.
“Why?” America asked, concerned the other colony wasn’t feeling well.
“Because Père France … “ Canada couldn’t finish.
“Oh, I get it, okay Canada I’ll read this one.” America said and found the section marked “B” in the book on animals. He found the passage about bees and began to read:
A queen bee is selectively bred in a special "queen cell" in the hive and fed royal jelly by worker bees to induce her to become sexually mature.
A virgin queen that survives to adulthood without being killed by her rivals will take a mating flight with a dozen or so male drones (out of tens of thousands eligible bachelors in the colony). During mating, their genitals explode and snap off inside the queen.*
America looked up at Canada, eyes wide as saucers. Canada, still blushing looked at America, his hand covered his mouth as if he were going to be sick. “Whoa, that sounds like it would hurt.”
“Why would England write such a horrible thing?” Canada said, looking as though he would start crying any second.
“Maybe it’s supposed to be a joke?” America offered, collecting the books and putting them away.
“Here you two are,” England said, standing in the doorway of the library. “It’s time for Dinner. And after that, I thought we could go down and visit my ship.” He offered with a smile.
Both colonies jumped at the sound of England’s voice. America reached down and snatched up the piece of paper, stuffing it into his pocket. “Great, I’m starved!” He said cheerfully as he walked past England into the hallway. “C’mon Canada, or I’ll eat your food too!”
“Better not!” Canada yelled, scooping up Kumajirou and running after him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
While reading through The Compendium of Common Knowledge, a treatise on Tudor England culture and customs, I found this proverb there with some others. The whole book is worth downloading (it’s free!). The bits about animals and friars were taken from websites found through a google search. Thanks for reading, enjoy!
Author:
nike2422Rating: G
Character(s)/Pairing(s): England, young America, young Canada
Warnings: Small children drawing the wrong conclusions? Also having to eat England’s cooking.
Summary: Young America finds a verse in England’s handwriting that that makes very little sense. With Young Canada’s help, he is determined to find out what it all means.
Time Frame: Colonial America
Older Stuff
America looked up from his primer for the hundredth time in the past hour and gazed wistfully out the window. It was a beautiful spring day: warm and sunny, the perfect day to be outdoors exploring until suppertime. He could see a man herding goats down the path towards town. Fishing boats were out in the harbor, and far off in the distance America could see England’s ship, its tall masts reaching into the sky as if it could touch the clouds.
“America stop fidgeting and finish your lessons.”
The little colony peered over his schoolbook across the table at England who was busy writing a letter. He had stopped writing long enough to stir his tea while reading over what he had just wrote. America frowned and blurted out sullenly “When can I go outside? This is boring.”
“After you finish your lessons.” England answered, still reading over his letter as he took a sip of tea.
The little colony slouched in his chair, kicking his dangling feet back and forth. “Why do I have to do lessons?”
“So that you can go to grammar school, don’t slouch.”
“Why do I have to go to grammar school?”
“So you can learn Latin.”
“Why do I have to learn Latin?”
“Because all properly educated Englishmen know Latin.”
“Why do I have to be an Englishman?”
“ENOUGH!” England shouted, jumping out of his seat. “What compels you to ask such ridiculous questions?”
America shrugged his little shoulders. “I dunno.”
England stared at the little boy looking up at him with guileless blue eyes. For a moment he felt a twinge of sympathy, remembering back to his own days stuck in a schoolroom learning his letters when there was a world outside to explore. He sighed and shuffled through the pile of books on the table next to America, found his old copybook and put it in front of the little colony, flipping pages until he found a blank one. He pushed the quill and inkpot closer to America and said, “Spend some time working on your penmanship and then you can go outside, alright?”
“Okay.” America sighed and picked up the quill. He pressed it on the page in the copybook and a large black spot spread over the page. He looked up at England who stood with hands on hips watching him. His eyebrows went up which meant, “keep going” and America went back to scribbling the letters from the passage in his primer. England returned to his seat and resumed writing his letter.
Halfway through copying the passage a second time America found his eyes wandering away from his schoolwork and back to the scene outdoors. A butterfly flitted in front of the window briefly before lighting on a flower. There was a loud throat clearing from the other end of the table and America looked back to see England watching him. He dipped the quill in the inkpot and went back to work, but found the pages had flipped over to a part of the copybook that already been written in. America started reading the neat, even writing that he knew to be England’s. He turned the page to look at the poem written there and noticed a small bit of writing in the margin. He looked closer and read:
Germans woo like lions,
Italians like foxes,
Spaniards like friars,
and Frenchmen like stinging bees.
America frowned and asked, “England, what does woo mean?”
“What?” England looked up, a confused look on his face.
“This word right here.” America asked again, holding up the copybook and pointing at the word written on the page so England could see.
“Oh blast!” England swore, a deep blush showing on his cheeks as he jumped to his feet to retrieve the book from America. The little colony flinched and squeaked, dropping the book on the floor.
“Give me that book!” England shouted as America scrambled under the table to retrieve it. He felt a hand grab his collar and he was yanked back to his feet.
“Here it is, I was just fetching it for you.” America offered with a sheepish smile.
England snatched the book away and fumed. “Lessons are done for today, run along!”
“Yippee!” America exclaimed as he turned and ran down the hall. England watched him disappear, shaking his head in exasperation. He felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down to see who was there.
Another little boy looked up at him. “England, can I go too? I finished all my lessons.” He held up his copybook to show his rows of neatly written letters.
“Uhm … why … sure, you can go now er … uhh … “ England stammered, frowning down at the boy and snapping his fingers, trying to remember who he was.
“I’m Canada.” He offered.
‘Right, off you go then!” England said with a final snap and pointed at the boy and smiled. “Canada.”
Canada grinned at England as he slid down from his chair to catch up with America.
England sighed and sank wearily into the just vacated chair, watching his other little colony run to catch up with America. Kumajirou woke from his nap under the table and waddled off after them.
“America! Wait up!” Canada called after him.
America turned and watched him run up. “He let you go free too I see.”
“I finished all my work.”
“Teacher’s pet teacher’s pet!” America teased.
“No I’m not, you are! He can’t even remember my name!”
“Haha, I know right? Who? Who? You’d think we had an owl living in the house.” America laughed as he started to walk away.
“Where are you going?” Canada asked, trotting to keep up.
America pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. “To find someone who can tell me what this means.”
Canada’s eyes grew large when he realized what America had done. “You tore that out of your copybook?” He asked.
“Yep, it used to be his copybook, his handwriting’s all over it. He wrote this too.” America added smugly, pointing out the small verse written in the margin of the paper.
Canada read it, frowning, “What does ‘woo’ mean?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out right now.” America grinned. “Too bad France isn’t here anymore, I bet he knows.”
Canada stood for a moment, watching America walk away then said, “Wait! There’s a dictionary in the library, let’s try there.”
America turned back and gave Canada a quizzical look. “Library?”
“It’s a room with books, c’mon.” The other colony said, giving America a stern look not unlike England as he walked past him.
“I knew that!” America grumbled, running to catch up.
Canada walked up to the shelf where the dictionary was and pulled it down, he knelt on the floor and started thumbing through the pages; America sat down next to him and crossed his legs Indian style, amazed at how easily Canada flipped to the page where the word was. “Wow, you’re really good at that.” He blurted out.
“The dictionary is your friend.” Canada said, running his finger down the column of words. America stuck his tongue out.
“Here it is! Canada shouted, his finger pointing to the word on the page.
“Read it.” America said. Canada leaned over to get closer to the page:
1. to seek the favor, affection, or love of, esp. with a view to marriage.
2. to make love to a woman; court: He went wooing.
Canada looked up at America, blushing. America looked at him, a look of utter disgust on his face. “Love? Marriage? Women? Does that mean girls? GROSS!”
“I guess so,” Canada said, closing the dictionary and putting it back on the shelf.
America read the verse again, scowling at the paper when it failed to tell him what it meant. “Soooo, what does it mean, “Germany woos like a lion?””
“I guess it means Germany finds a girlfriend like a lion does.”
“Okay, so how does a lion do that?”
I don’t know, but there’s a book here about animals, maybe there’s something about lions in there.” Canada offered, walking to another part of the room and skimming over the shelves until he stopped and pointed to a book that was on a shelf too high. “There it is America, can you help me?”
America stood up and grabbed the book on his tiptoes. He looked at the front cover, which read ANTHOLOGY OF ANIMALS OF THE WORLD.
“Thanks,” Canada said, taking the book and sitting down on the floor. America joined him and they opened the book between them. Again Canada quickly turned the pages until he came to a big letter “L”, then slowed down until he came to the part about lions. He started reading:
Lion mating is notoriously quick, repetitive, and unsuccessful. The male usually initiates copulation with a mating snarl, which is intended to excite the female. If the female does not respond, the male lion may lick her neck, back, or shoulders until she complies.
“Ewwwwwww! Gross!” America made a face like he wanted to throw up. “Germans like to lick girls? Disgusting!”
“Père France always said Germans were horrible people.” Canada replied, looking rather pale as he continued to read the passage to himself.
“Find the part about foxes next, maybe they’re not so gross.” America said encouragingly.
“Okay.” Canada said, thumbing through the pages until he came to the letter “F”. “Foxes, here we go.” And he started to read:
A fox and vixen will occasionally encounter one another in their territories. Earlier in the season they will take notice of one another but with only limited interest. As time goes on, they will spend increasingly longer amounts of time with one another, and their normally solitary footprints become paired tracks in the snow. They engage in affectionate play, spend time in close contact with each other, and generally get to know more about their mates.
“What’s a vixen?” America asked.
“Uhm, that’s the girl fox.” Canada sighed.
“There’s something wrong with a fox if he wants to play with a girl.” America said.
“I think vixen can also mean pretty lady.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I overheard Père France one time point at a lady and say, “There goes a saucy vixen.””
“Really?” America asked. “France is pretty weird though. What does the book say about Friars?”
Canada rolled his eyes. “Friars aren’t animals, America they’re people. We’ll have to find another book to learn about them.”
America looked at Canada and whined, “Another book? Isn’t there an easier way to do this that doesn’t make you have to read?”
Canada spun around and glared at America. “What are you complaining about I’m the one doing all the reading!”
“Fine do it your way then.” The colony muttered, crossing his arms.
Finding a book about friars took a bit longer, but eventually with both colonies looking they located a book about monastic orders and began searching for something about the wooing abilities of friars. After looking through the book cover to cover, Canada looked up at America frowning, “This is so odd, it says nothing about how a friar woos.”
“Maybe there’s something in that part about the daily life of a friar, let’s read that again.” America offered.
Canada flipped back to the page America mentioned and they both began to read carefully, looking for clues:
9:00 am The friars would work with the children teaching them religion, music, language etc.
10:00 am They would visit the sick and elderly.
11:00 am The friars would have their midday meal of fruit, soup, milk, and bread. 12:00 noon They went to the church to pray the Angelus and other midday prayers. Prayer was followed by a siesta of several hours.
2:00 pm The mission once again came alive with work. The friars would continue to visit, counsel or write letters and reports.
3:00 pm They took time to say the Rosary or other prayers and devotions.
4:00 pm The padres once again worked with the children, especially instructing them in music or games.
5:00 pm More prayers and the Doctrina in the Church.
6:00 pm Vespers or evening prayer was recited.
7:00 pm The friars would have a light evening meal of soup, bread, and fruit. After the meal the friars would relax, read, play cards and socialize until night prayer and time for bed, in most cases not much later than 9:00 pm, only to awake around two in the morning and start all over again.
Canada looked up shaking his head, “I don’t get it, it doesn’t say anything about wooing at all, just teaching and playing games with children and saying lots of prayers.”
“Yeah, that is really strange,” America said, feeling very confused. “At least a bee is an animal, let’s get the other book.
“Uh, you read that one,” Canada said, blushing a deep red.
“Why?” America asked, concerned the other colony wasn’t feeling well.
“Because Père France … “ Canada couldn’t finish.
“Oh, I get it, okay Canada I’ll read this one.” America said and found the section marked “B” in the book on animals. He found the passage about bees and began to read:
A queen bee is selectively bred in a special "queen cell" in the hive and fed royal jelly by worker bees to induce her to become sexually mature.
A virgin queen that survives to adulthood without being killed by her rivals will take a mating flight with a dozen or so male drones (out of tens of thousands eligible bachelors in the colony). During mating, their genitals explode and snap off inside the queen.*
America looked up at Canada, eyes wide as saucers. Canada, still blushing looked at America, his hand covered his mouth as if he were going to be sick. “Whoa, that sounds like it would hurt.”
“Why would England write such a horrible thing?” Canada said, looking as though he would start crying any second.
“Maybe it’s supposed to be a joke?” America offered, collecting the books and putting them away.
“Here you two are,” England said, standing in the doorway of the library. “It’s time for Dinner. And after that, I thought we could go down and visit my ship.” He offered with a smile.
Both colonies jumped at the sound of England’s voice. America reached down and snatched up the piece of paper, stuffing it into his pocket. “Great, I’m starved!” He said cheerfully as he walked past England into the hallway. “C’mon Canada, or I’ll eat your food too!”
“Better not!” Canada yelled, scooping up Kumajirou and running after him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
While reading through The Compendium of Common Knowledge, a treatise on Tudor England culture and customs, I found this proverb there with some others. The whole book is worth downloading (it’s free!). The bits about animals and friars were taken from websites found through a google search. Thanks for reading, enjoy!