Skirt of Kerenhappuch (book)

The Skirt of Kerenhappuch

Written by Gulliver VonDeverone

The tale of Kerenhappuch's skirt is an unfortunate one. Kerenhappuch disguised herself as Hodierna to trick Kertigen into fashioning her a vivid, rainbow-hued skirt. He was fooled, and completed the task, putting Kerenhappuch in possession of a dangerous garment which could alter the wills of others: any man who saw her wearing it would fall in love with her instantly, while any woman would become overcome with envy. The latter effect was a curse placed upon the skirt by Kertigen, once he realized the ruse.

But that is not the story I am telling.

How many shades of red does this world contain? Kertigen knows. Kertigen knows all of the colors. He tracked them down, every hue, to mix the dyes for the skirt. Such is his love for Hodierna, and so deep was his devastation upon seeing his hard-won creation worn by the shrew-goddess rather than his lady. This is a story of his search, and his disappointment.

O Kertigen, don't be fooled, lord,
She'll turn love's labor into hurt.
For though you toil for Hodierna,
The shrew will wear the skirt.
Kerenhappuch's skirt!

Red

A deeply wounded crimson,
A wicked scarlet flash,
Kertigen's face flushed carmine,
All blood is on his hands.

"Blood of war and blood of sickness,
Blood of womb and blood of sword,
Of your enemies and your lovers,
All their blood is yours.

"A cardinal, an apple-fruit,
Berries, lips, and garnet stones.
Hate and love and pain and pleasure,
Heat and danger, all your own."

With that he dipped a strip of sunrise
In a dye mixed cherry-tart. "Red," he said, "for Hodierna.
Red is for the heart."

O Kertigen, don't be fooled, lord,
She'll turn love's labor into hurt.
For though you toil for Hodierna,
The shrew will wear the skirt.
Kerenhappuch's skirt!

Orange

A confident vermillion,
A luscious tangerine.
His fingers scalded copper,
Kertigen seeds the ocher sheen.

"Fire from land and fire from spirit,
Volcano blast and blaze of dawn,
Fire of will and resolution,
Fire from pyres burnt and gone.

"Pumpkin flesh and tourmaline,
Rust and cheddar, poppy beds,
Fallen auburn autumn leaves,
Now are in your stead."

With that he dipped a stretch of sunset
In a wildfire dye untamed.
"Orange," he said, "for Hodierna.
Orange is for the flame."

O Kertigen, don't be fooled, lord,
She'll turn love's labor into hurt.
For though you toil for Hodierna,
The shrew will wear the skirt.
Kerenhappuch's skirt!

Yellow

An ancient fossil ivory,
A haughty saffron strand,
Kertigen is sallow with fever
As he digs in graves of sand.

"Tombs of thieves and tombs of kings,
Tombs of those whom no-one knew,
Tombs forgotten, tombs remembered,
I gather these bones for you.

"Cowardice and buttermilk,
Straw and sulfur, jaundiced pall,
Topaz, crocus, gilt champagne,
You shall wear them all."

With that he dipped a length of sunlight
Into a dye of old-gold tone.
"Yellow," he said, "for Hodierna.
Yellow is for bone."

O Kertigen, don't be fooled, lord,
She'll turn love's labor into hurt.
For though you toil for Hodierna,
The shrew will wear the skirt.
Kerenhappuch's skirt!

Green

An ostentatious emerald,
Chartreuse's seething ire,
Kertigen, vert with envy,
Does duel with jade desire.

"Where there's beauty, wealth and power,
Where there's want and rarely need,
Where lives youth and love and honor,
You will find the home of greed.

"Poison, beryl, grass, and vigor,
Verdigris and vertigo,
Clover's luck and leek and lime,
Will only for you grow."

With that he dipped an afternoon
Into a blooming vernal dye.
"Green," he said, "for Hodierna.
Green is for the eyes."

O Kertigen, don't be fooled, lord,
She'll turn love's labor into hurt.
For though you toil for Hodierna,
The shrew will wear the skirt.
Kerenhappuch's skirt!

Blue

A raw and livid navy,
A sudden cyan freeze,
Kertigen's lips turn frosty
With every cobalt wheeze.

"Cold in land and cold in ocean,
Frozen heartbeat, icicle hands,
Cold in motive, chill indifference,
Now intensify your dance.

"Sapphire, sky, and hyacinth,
Peacock's breast and bawdy verse,
Bruises, aristocracy,
Will to your whims rehearse."

With that he dipped a lace of morning
Into a dye mixed azure-bright.
"Blue," he said, "for Hodierna.
Blue is for the ice."

O, Kertigen, don't be fooled, lord.
She'll turn love's labor into hurt.
For though you toil for Hodierna,
The shrew will wear the skirt.
Kerenhappuch's skirt!

Purple

A sweet and supple lilac,
A splotch of damson wine,
Kertigen, stained with mulberry,
Now harvests at the vine.

"Pride of face and pride of stature,
Pride of deed and kindred line,
Pride of talent, craft, and diligence,
The pride you wear is mine.

"Orchid, grackle, indigo,
Mourning, swollen plums, loosestrife,
An amethyst, a heliotrope,
Imperiality, overripe."

With that he dipped a band of twilight
Into a violet dye renowned.
"Purple," he said, "for Hodierna.
Purple is for the crown."

White

Alabaster's chastity,
A milky ashen glow,
Kertigen, bleached argental,
Reveres the quiet snow.

"Good intentions, evil actions,
Good's lament and evil's curse,
What you should and what you could do,
Good gets better, evil--worse.

"Lies and lightning, cream-capped waves,
Dove of peace and seafoam salt,
Pale maiden's skin and fair blonde hair,
For your virtues will exalt."

With that he dipped a wire of winter
Into a spotless pearl-dye bowl,
"White," he said, "for Hodierna.
White is for the soul."

O, Kertigen, don't be fooled, lord.
She'll turn love's labor into hurt.
For though you toil for Hodierna,
The shrew will wear the skirt.
Kerenhappuch's skirt!

Black

A sooty smoldered charcoal,
A shadowed sable ghost,
Kertigen follows his raven
To meet the final Host.

"End of lives and end of suffering!
End of strain and pain and grief!
Here you rule the end of the rainbow,
And the final shade I seek!"

And, starry eyes locked with the smith-god's,
The Host began to speak:

"You who've bled and burned and fevered,
Battled, frozen, drank and blessed,
You may have my boon, O brave one,
Though I sorrow for your quest.

"Plague and pepper, somber smoke,
Crow and coal and silhouette,
Depression, tar, and flies and beetles
Will be yours, as will regret."

With that he ripped a skein of midnight
From the path on which he strode.
"Black," he said, "for Hodierna.
Black is for the Road."

O, Kertigen, don't be fooled, lord.
She'll turn love's labor into hurt.
For though you toil for Hodierna,
The shrew will wear the skirt.
Kerenhappuch's skirt!

Weary but triumphant,
Kertigen returned,
And retired to his workroom
With the colors he had earned.

Not heeding the Host's prediction,
In a final burst of power,
Kertigen toiled a hundred, hundred days
Then entered the lady's bower.

"My lady," said he, presenting the skirt,
"I humbly hope this will do.
The collecting near-consumed me,
But it was worth it all for you.
It was worth it all for you."

She grabbed the brilliant garment,
And slung it from her hips,
Then with a wicked, scornful laugh,
Revealed her smirking ruby lips.

"So surprised, my raven-god?
You're easily deceived.
You truly expected Hodierna?
Sweet Kertigen, so naive!"

Kerenhappuch winked at the craftsman,
Who was fuming, shamed, defeated,
"I'll wear the skirt with pride, smith-lord."
She blew him a kiss and retreated.

Kertigen shook with fury
As his wasted days he rued,
He had longed for Hodierna,
But been bitten by the shrew.

Kerenhappuch's skirt!
Kerenhappuch's skirt!
Heart and flame and bone and eyes,
Kerenhappuch's skirt!
Road and soul and crown and ice,
Kerenhappuch's skirt!
Beating, burning, decaying, glaring,
Kerenhappuch's skirt!
Silent, holy, proud and barren,
Kerenhappuch's skirt!

All the world for Hodierna,
But the shrew will wear the skirt.
Kerenhappuch's skirt!