The Storyteller (1987–1989): Season 1, Episode 2 - Fearnot - full transcript

A young man named Fearnot sets out on a quest to learn how to shiver in fright. He meets a traveling tinker called McKay who vows to lead the boy to frightening places. Still, nothing on their path manages to put the shivers into Fearnot, no matter how frightening it gets.

[Cawing]

[Storyteller]
When people told themselves
their past with stories,

explained their present
with stories,

foretold the future
with stories,

the best place by the fire
was kept for...

[Clinks]

The storyteller.

[Munching]

[Barking]

[Storyteller]
What?
What's the matter?

I don't want you
to even look at it
or say its name,



but there is a huge--
and when I say "huge,"

I mean bigger than huge,

I mean hugenormous, and
this is no laughing matter,

I am talking about a thing
beginning with "s"

and with several
revolting black--

what are you
goin' on about?

Ugh!

You don't mean
this little spider?

Hey! Come back!

Have you killed it?

Yes.

Promise?

Promise.

I popped it
between my fingers.



Come and see.

It's quite a mess.

Ugh!

Good. Yuk. They're foul.

They don't even know
the meaning
of the word "bone."

What a noodle you are,

frightened
of a little thing.

You're frightened of rats.

Everyone's
frightened of rats.

They're rat-ish.
That's normal.

Why?
Have you seen a rat?

You're shuddering.

So are you.

Uh-huh!

And now it's getting dark.
I don't like the dark, either.

Uh-uh!

Come here and bark a bit.

[Barking]

Good.

What shall we do
until morning?

Well, I could tell you
the story of the boy

who set forth to learn
what fear was.

You mean,
he didn't know?

No.

He wasn't frightened
of rats or bats

or cats or things
beginning with "s"?

No. A rare boy.

The 2nd son
of the 2nd cousin

of my 2nd wife's
2nd niece

who died
and left her husband,
a tailor,

2 sons,
the one good,

the other,
good for nothing.

And he was
called "fearnot."

Be off with you!
You good for nothing!

[Crashing]

What time
do you call this?

Don't know, dad.
What time do you call it?

Lord give me Patience.

Well,
have you got the buttons?

What buttons?

The buttons
I sent you out for!

Do you know, dad?
I completely
forgot them buttons.

Tell the truth,
I stood and played
under my sweetheart's window.

Oh, she's a lovely.

Did you hear that?

He forgot.

Never fear,
I'll go back.

[Father]
And forget again.

No. You go, son.

I'll go
in the morning.

The morning's no use.
Go now.

I would, but the dark comes
and I don't like the forest.

It's all shadows.

There's trolls
in there and dragons.

Let me go.

I don't mind shadows,

and I never
saw a dragon.

Be off with you, then.

What are you
goin' for?

Uh, don't tell me.
To see dragons.

No. Uh, ogres.

Buttons!

Buttons.

Oh...

[Storyteller]
So off goes fearnot
to fetch buttons,

but the village bullies
watch his skip
and his gormless grin.

He's right for ragging.

Oh, yes,
they'll fetch him
a fearful fright.

[Owl hooting]

[Wind blowing]

[Screaming]

Hello.

Are you a troll?

I am a wurdle.
Only twice as bad.

Never mind.

I want your bag of buttons.

Sorry,
they're for my dad.

Give them to me
or I'll mutton you.

Mutton me?

I'll give you a right flummox.

That doesn't sound very nice.

[Multiple voices]
Give me the buttons.

[Screaming]

Very well.

[Screaming]

And back he goes, our boy,
to his dad's house,

full of tales of a wurdle,
only twice as bad,

and sorry about the buttons,

and "did you know
a wurdle has 3 voices?"

And the father
sets him outside,

with 40 shillings
in a purse,

and tells him to go off
and learn something.

Fearnot considers this.

He's always wanted
to know how to shudder.

The knack of it
has eluded him.

He'll set forth
to learn what fear is,

with nothing to guide him
but a bag of shillings,

a fiddle,
and a fool's errand.

Good day, young man,

now isn't this
a lucky meetin'.

Good day, sir.

I can tell by
the gleam in your eye,

you have a sweetheart.

I do, sir.

And what's her name?

I don't know.

Ah, well, what's a name?
Mine's McKay,
but I don't mind it.

Mine's fearnot.

"And there you go,"
as me poor mother would say.

Have you got a mother?

I'm afraid I don't.

Eh, well, we all had one once
and that's the main thing.

Now, your sweetheart,
is she dark or fair?

Oh, dark, sir.

Like Arabia.

Like Arabia?
Oh, happy day!

And a happy day
it is for you, young man,

for in this bag,
I have a scarf of silk

direct from
the shores of araby.

Here,
I insist you take it.

And may you learn
a name with it.

Thank you, mister.

And it's because
you're such a fine fellow,

I'm only going
to ask you

to pay me
what I paid for it.

A double persian.

How much is that?

How much you got?

40 shillings.

Nothing like that.
Barely half.
Less than two-thirds.

I'd like the scarf,

because I have set forth
to learn things, you see,

and to learn a name
is something.

But I'll give you
all I have,

if you could learn me
what fear is.

You will give me
40 shillings,

if I can
frighten you?

Gladly.

[Laughs]
"I see,"
said the blind man.

Let me think.
Shut your eyes.

[Screaming]

[Birds flapping]

[Screaming]

Is something the matter?

No, no.
Just give me a minute.

What do you reckon that is,
at your throat?

I don't know, sir. A knife?

And a sharp knife.
Slit a hair clean in 2.

That's marvelous.

Slit a throat
without touching the sides.

That's a good knife,
then.

It certainly is,
and will do for you,
young man,

unless you part
with your bag
of shillings.

I can't do that,

for I must learn
what fear is,

and I'm not
frightened of you,
Mr. McKay.

You're a friend.

Ugh!

Oh, no.
No, no, we're--
we're friends.

Goodness,
I'm sure we are.

Let me take you
down the Lane,

where I think
I can arrange

a little case
of the shudders for you.

Follow me.

Where do we go?

To a pond
by a hedge,

by a field,
by a mill,
by a town.

And in that pond
is a fearful sight.

So fearful,
think what fearful is

and add 10.

And shall I shudder?

No question.

If you survive.

[Storyteller]
And off they went,

a most fanciful
peregrination,

until they came
to a pond by a hedge,

by a field,
by a mill,
by a town.

And as they arrived
with day ending,

they saw folk
rushing from the mill,

still dusted with flour,

and would not stop
to swap words,

but shouted,
"be clear before dark falls!

Beware the pond!"

And other such unwelcomes.

Here?
Is this where I'll learn
to shudder, Mr. McKay?

The trick is,
you must
plunge into the pond

and fear will swim up
to greet you.

Splendid.

Ah! It's a treat.

Will you join me?

No, thanks.

I must retire and get us
beds for the night.

You must sleep
after a good fright.

Good luck!

Thank you!

[Storyteller]
Now, this green pond

is not all welcome cool
and water lilies.

Deep in its green deep
is a terrible thing,

and it peers up
from the green

and sees a pair of feet.

It's a man.

Oh, dear, oh, dear...

So there he is,
our man, fearnot,

dangling his feet
in the pond,
waiting to shudder,

wondering how,
when all of a sudden,
and who would believe it,

the water begins
to gather
and froth and swirl.

And blow me if a ring
of sad beauties don't appear,

eyes closed and
melancholy.

These are
the sisters of the deep,

and their dance is
a welcome to drowning.

"Come in, come in,"
they seem to say.

And fearnot looks on,
enchanted by their loveliness.

Then he does
what he always does,
when this mood takes him.

[Frogs croaking]

ª[playing]

Now why do the village folk
avoid this pretty scene?

Why do men tremble
as night falls

and the moon gleams
its silver on the pool?

Because,
my dearie-ohs, my darlings,

these are the daughters
of the terrible thing,

water in their veins,
water in their eyes.

They have but 2 tasks:

To drown men
and to drown women.

"Come in, come in,"
they seem to say.

"Come in and sip
our bitter beer.

Come in
and meet our master."

Do you know who I am?

I don't think so.

You're not a wurdle.
Some sort of terrible thing?

Exactly.
These are my pretties.

They tempt
young men like you,

and I drown them.

Why?

Because.

But first,
give me your bird.

Its song is so beautiful.

I can't do that.
I have to make it.

Look!

ª[playing]

Where does the singing
come from?

This hole.

Let me try.

[Clanging]

Ah! Horrid.

You must learn to play.

But your bird,

where does
its song come from?

The song?

Oh, far away.

Ireland.

Which direction?

Over there.

Many lefts
and many rights.

Ireland?
I'll go there.

That way, you say?

That's it.

Make it sing some more,

and then I'll go.

Ireland.

[Storyteller]
And our boy plays some more

until the creature
leaves his daughters,

and his green pool,
and his endless drowning,

and heads off
in search of Ireland

and the bird that sings.

And he lives there still,
for all I know.

[All cheering]

What a hero,
what a hero!

Not one feast, but 20,

78 gifts,
4 offers of marriage,

and much playing
of the fiddle.

By morning,
Mr. McKay,

self-appointed
manager of heroes

and historian
of fearnot's exploits,

has noted details
of the whereabouts
of trolls and terrors,

and dragons,
and demons, and untold,
unsolved mysteries.

Thus commissioned,
the 2 companions set off,

and it isn't till late
the following afternoon,

heads still
muddled by cider,

that fearnot remembers
to clap the tinker's ears,

retrieve
his 40 shillings,

and ask him where
they're heading next.

Well, I have
the route to a fine terror,

but I must have reward.

I have promised you
my shillings
when I shudder.

But given me
only your fist,
which I liked not.

One little
misunderstanding

and I am thrashed
for me pains.
Compare us:

You are blessed
with great courage,

I am cursed
with a little cunning.

I cheat for trifles,

while you can
move mountains.

Is that fair,
I ask you?

I'm sorry.
Take my money.

I've offended you.

No, no. I shall
struggle on for nothing.

We go to yonder castle,

where none
survive a night.

So I will learn
to shudder at last?

[Storyteller]
Now this castle they approach
is a graveyard of hopes.

The king driven out,
the rooms abandoned,

only fools
seek shelter there.

For this is a troubled land
and bad holds court.

Look, there it is
on the horizon,

a place brooding.

[Squeaking]

Wait here.

I should take things
with me.

Take a sword.

Take 2.

These 3 things
are enough.

Or not,
as the case may be.

And they leave
75 of my gifts,
should I not return.

Do not leave them here,
for you know
how it is with me.

I'll be forced
to steal them
and desert you.

Have a little courage,
Mr. McKay.

[Man screaming]

Godspeed, fearnot.

Ah, lovely.

All lovely.

[McKay]
"A little courage,
Mr. McKay."

[Man screaming]

[Rumbling]

[Grunts]

Hello.
There's only half here.

Where's the rest of me?

[Rumbling]

[Laughs]

[Grunts]

That's more like it.

Now, how about
a game, hmm?

Why not?
I have all night.

[Guffawing]

He has all night!

Can you play skittles?

I'll try.

He'll try.

He better had.

These are definitely
not my legs!

Too short by half.

You'd better win,
precious,

or you'll find yourself
half the man you were.

[Laughing]

What size legs are those?

I don't know.

No gout?

Corns? Blisters? Foot rot?

No!

Good.
I could do with those.

Me first, I reckon.

8!

Not bad
on borrowed legs.

Bowl well, precious.

Careful!

Don't want
them pegs damaged.

You won't mind, sir,

but your ball is
not smooth enough for me.

9!

Ugh!

You cheated.

No sir,

I swapped a little courage
for a little cunning,
that's all.

Now look at me!

All very well, my friend,

but it doesn't help me
with the shuddering.

Lovely.

All lovely.

[Owl hooting]

[Sighs]

[Storyteller]
Fearnot,
for lack of a fright,

settles down
for the night.

But what's this,

Mr. McKay?

Oh, mister,

is it all up with you?

And so cold.

You were my first
and only friend.

My friend,
and now so cold.

Let me warm you
a little.

That's better.

See,
have I not warmed you?

[Yelling]

Fearnot?

Fearnot?

Fearnot?

Come nearer, demon,

and I'll cut off your head

and then there will be
3 parts to marry!

What?

I know
it's not you.

It is me!

Dead again,
are you?

No.

Don't come closer!

Please, I'm terrified,

I came with my little courage
to find you,

and it's quite used up.

How many gifts did I leave?

Well, I only counted
74 to begin with,

and I ate 2--
well, 2 and a half,

but there's still plenty.

What's the name
of my true love?

Well, how can I know
if you don't?

Then it is you.

But of course it's me!

And you came in
to find me?

It's my lot.

I try to break the mold
and be decent,

and I gets
a knife waved at me.

Shut up and come here
and hug me.

No.

[Exclaiming]

[Storyteller]
But hug him he did,
and full of glee,

they searched the castle
from top to toe.

And behind the farthest door
of the highest floor,

they found a room,

and in that room
was gold.

Such goldness, they might have
thrown it out of the window

for a week
and still be swamped.

And they shared it
half and half,

and a bit for luck,
and never have 2 men
danced more nor merrier.

And from a distance,
you would have
seen the castle

shake off its gray drab
and sunbathe.

So he never
learned to shudder?

[Sighs]

Well, the fact of
the matter is

that fearnot
asked such questions

of the tinker
all the way home.

"Why haven't
I learned to shudder?

What can I tell my father?"
And so on.

And the tinker pointed
to their gold and said,

"are there not sufficient
riches that you must be
frightened as well?"

And so they went on.

Fearnot complaining
of fearing not,

him muttering,
until they arrived at last

at the gate
of fearnot's house.

We must say
goodbye then.

You must meet my family!

No.
Families don't like me.

Of course they will.
You're my friend.
You must come in.

As my dear old mother
used to say,

"leave 'em while they
want you to stay."

No, thank you.

What's this for?

You must give that
to your father.

That's right,

for I have not learned
to shudder.

Goodbye, Mr. McKay.

Goodbye, friend.

ª[violin playing]

It's you! At last!

Come quick!
Come quick!

She's swooned
since she heard
you'd gone.

Nothing
will revive her.

I don't know her name.

[Father]
Lidia.

Lidia.

Lidia.

[Shuddering]

[Panting]

[Father]
Look!

Would you
look at that!

My sweetheart.

What's
happened?

Lidia,
you've done it!

Done what?

You've taught me!

I've been so far,
so long,

and all it needed was
the thought of losing you

to teach me
what fear was.

I shuddered!

I shuddered!

I shuddered!

And so the boy who set forth
to learn what fear was,

learned it at home.

And he married his sweetheart

with her name and all
and never left again.

Mr. McKay told me
that story a long time ago
when I was very young,

and I didn't know
the half of it.