I wish he would say something. Anything! The smallest display of admiration will do.

I have never had to perform for an audience so hard to please. For days I patiently awaited a clap, a compliment, even a nod of acknowledgement, and nothing came.

At first, I resolved the poor tin soldier must be stunned by my flawless performance, and why wouldn't he? I am not one to compliment myself, but it takes more than mere skill to maintain this posture, especially when you're made of paper. It took me years of practice, academy training, dedication, and most importantly steadfastness (for which I was awarded a beautiful spangle that I proudly display). When weeks passed and the soldier's blank stare and empty expression were not interrupted even by a blink, it was then I understood: He was not impressed.

Making sure he understood the reality of the situation; I raised my head higher, stretched my leg further into the air, and slowly lifted my other foot so my entire balance rested gracefully on its tips. Now it was plain for anyone to see that although this gentleman is standing on one tin leg (which I need not remind you is much sturdier than paper) he can never acquire the level of skill to balance himself on its tips. Besides, it is much easier to balance on one leg when you have never known what it is like to have another! Satisfied with my effort, I glanced over to see his undoubtedly astonished, perhaps even apologetic reaction.

Instead I was met with the same blank expression. His doubtful eyes silently questioning if that was the best I can do. What a haughty man! If it is a challenge he wanted, I will give him just that!

I stood there unwavering for many days. Even at nights when everyone had gone to bed and the other toys held visits, battles, and wonderful balls (the latter of which I was very sorry to have missed); I never had a moment's rest. My arms grew very tired that I had to stretch them further still to maintain my posture. I thought I heard a crinkling in my legs one evening. It must be a delusional product of fatigue. I refused to disrupt my performance, not until I heard or saw some form of appreciation for my perfect performance.

The frustrating thing was he was just as steadfast as I. He stood there staring and daring me relentlessly, and I silently stared back. It would be improper for an artist such as myself to speak during her performance.

One night a goblin appeared in the room, the sight of which nearly threw me off balance. The soldier however did not stir even when the creature directly spoke to him (the pain radiating from my toes distracted me from hearing what he had to say). His stare was still glued onto mine as if nothing else existed in the world but our own exhausting little contest (which, I remind you, was quite unfair by any standards). Surely, I deserved some form of recognition having stood so gracefully and skillfully still, perfectly containing my continuously growing pain for many weeks. Frankly, the entire situation was maddening. Yet, I was certain he would give in soon.

I was not mistaken. The following day, the poor man could no longer hold his balance (even with his strong tin leg!) when a sudden wind blew him (and nearly myself as well had I not been so well trained) out of the window.

I heard the maid rushing downstairs to retrieve him. I smiled. Now he will be forced to admit that he could never match my talent and skill.

You understand my disappointment when the maid returned empty handed.

Do not misunderstand me. I am a lady of honour after all and I wish no harm to come upon the foolish uneducated man (even if he did deserve it). I pitied the poor man. I must confess that despite his arrogance, there was one quality of his which I held in high regard: His steadfastness.

I decided to show my respect to the soldier and honour his memory in the best way I can think of: standing steadfastly, perfectly still just as we both have been for the last month. My legs were going frail, and I was aware no one would blame me if I stopped. Yet, I felt obliged to resume my performance. After all, it was I who was the reason behind the soldier's misfortune and demise. If he had not been so envious of my talent, he would not have met with such a fate. The least I could do for the poor soul is show my sympathy.

The days went by much slower and quieter than before. I remained there even as my body numb and frail. One leg in the air, the other touching the ground, and my arms flailingly stretched out towards the window. It somehow seemed twice as difficult now; the set of eyes that have urged me to keep going, prodding me on, asking just how far I could go day after day without fail now gone, forever.

You can imagine my surprise when I blinked and saw those very eyes in the same place that they were before! For a moment I thought I sensed surprise in them too. I must have been mistaken; the countenance was still as expressionless as ever.

I must say I was quite offended by the soldier's ungentlemanly behaviour. The least he could do is show some appreciation for my steadfast posture I maintained as tribute to him. I gathered up all the strength left in me and stood steadier, straighter, more dignified than I ever had in my entire life; my entire being demanding an apology.

It was not to be. The soldier was flung into the fire by a child in a flash. I was in a state of shock. Surely, he will move, he will say something now. My arms stretched out to him, begging him to say anything. Speak! Say something! Ask me to help you! Ask me to forgive you! I will do anything you ask!

He merely stared back at me even as the flames engulfed him. My delicate nerves could not stand the sight. My knees grew weaker, I heard a tear, and I fell into the fire along with him. My legs crumbled to ashes as he looked on.

He won.


I had this idea when I read an article analysing the fairy tale, stating it is about the consequences of passivity. I thought it would be funny if the ballerina did not even understand that the tin soldier was in love with her. The mutual love is very subtly there though (if you squint).

Reviews and feedback much appreciated :)