She's a child

Every faerie tale must start somewhere. These are the opening scenes of my Snow White retelling.

 “Dairine, where are you?” The impatient voice of Braith, her nurse, made her giggle. She pulled herself deeper into the bush. “Dairine, your father has sent for you. You don't want to keep him waiting, do you?”

Dairine squirmed out from under the bushes. “What does papa want?”

“There you are,” Braith said. “Look at you. Now we'll have to clean you up and that'll mean your father will have to wait that much longer to see you.”

“No he won't.” Dairine closed her eyes and thought of the light. She knew she was glowing. When she opened them again, her dress was clean and her hair was back in its braid. “See? All better.”

Braith slapped her. “You know better than to do that,” she said. Dairine started crying. “Now we'll just see what your father has to say about this.” She dragged Dairine back towards the keep.

Dairine stumbled and was yanked back to her feet. She cried even harder. Braith threw her into the study, almost sending Dairine headlong into her father's desk. “What is this?” Lord Gwillym asked. “I said bring her to me, not reduce her to tears in the process.”

“Now, you tell your father what you did,” Braith said.

“I was playing in the garden when Nonna came looking for me,” Dairine said, still crying. “I hid under one of the flower bushes because I didn't know you wanted to see me. When she said that's why she wanted me I came out right away. She got angry because I was dirty and it would take longer to clean me up so I'd be later seeing you. I used the light to clean myself up. Nonna hit me and dragged me in here.”

“I see,” Gwillym said. “Now, you know I've asked that you not use your light unless it's important, and only if you ask me first. Normally I'd be very angry, but I don't think there was any harm in you using it this time.” He looked at Braith, his expression growing angry. “I don't remember giving you permission to strike my daughter.”

“It's sometimes the only way you can get through to a child,” Braith said.

“I see,” Gwillym said. “I don't approve of such measures and if you strike my daughter again I will turn you out.”

“Yes my lord,” Braith said.

Faerie Tales

Himself found a new show to binge watch on Netflix over the weekend. He started on Thursday and watched it clear through until Sunday night. The name of the show? Once Upon a Time. He suggested I watch it, and I will. I just wasn't ready to watch it with him, though I've caught enough of random episodes to know I want to know the whole story instead of the snippets of information. The characters look awesome. I especially love what they've done with Rumpelstiltskin. Of course the fact that it's the same actor who played Dr. Rush on SG-U doesn't hurt. I was rather impressed by him in that role and he makes an excellent Rumpelstiltskin. (And yes, I did have to look up how to spell that name. *grin*)

What watching it made me think of is faerie tales and fables, and how many translations of old ones and retellings that create new ones are in this world. I've set myself the task of writing retellings of some of my favorite faerie tales. The only one I've gotten anywhere close to being finished is my retelling of Beauty and the Beast. But I have some vague ideas for the other ones. I especially want to do one for Allerleirauh (sometimes translated as All-Kinds-Of-Fur or Thousand Furs). It's a more obscure story and people don't always recognize it. But it's always been one of my favorites.

I love reading variations on faerie tales. I've read so many. Another one of my favorites is Yeh Shen, the Chinese version of Cinderella. It's a beautiful story. There's also one dealing with Egypt. And I'm sure many more. These stories are old and have been told many times. I love reading them, because they give us a glimpse into the minds of people of the past.

For many cultures, there was no written word. Stories were passed down orally from one generation to the next. These stories were told by the fire, or in response to some kind of event. Some stories were even kept secret until great ceremonies where the storyteller was called forth to tell them. As time went by and the written word became more popular, people like Wilhelm and Jacob Grimm went around and collected them. They put them into a book. If you read the original Brothers Grimm versions, you'll find that the stories are very different from the ones we have today, the ones who have been cleaned up and made happier.

My mom had a huge book of faerie tales from all around the world, and I must have read that thing a hundred times as a child and a teenager. It's one of the reasons I know about Allerleirauh. It was in there. I found out about Yeh Shen by watching an interesting cartoon produced by CBS as part of a special cartoon series they did on Saturdays. I no longer remember the name. I just know each week they took a faerie tale or a fable and turned it into a well managed movie. If you remember that series, feel free to tell me. I'd like to know if anyone can remember what it was called.

Faerie tales are a big part of why I decided to become an author. I wanted to tell stories that lasted for years and that people could pick up in a century and read them again with the wonder that a child brings to reading faerie tales now.

So what's your favorite faerie tale? Where's it from?

Another fragment from Beauty and the Beast

Today I thought I'd share another little snippet from my Beauty and the Beast retelling.

She stumbled as her feet found every rock in the path. The chill grew behind her. She couldn't risk a glance over her shoulder without the chance of falling. Her hands tingled and the pull on her was even greater now that she was out of the castle. She wrapped herself in as much energy as she could, stealing some of the vitality from the weeds and animals that dwelled nearby.

She reached the end of the path and looked over her shoulder. Ice slowly made its way down the path she'd just run. Rocks cracked beneath the cold. All around her the villagers slept, not knowing what was coming. She could feel the tiny points of life vanishing as plants and animals were killed as it followed it's inexorable path. She stopped and reached out once again. She seized on every life she found. Taking only a fraction of the power released by them, she sent her magic to stop the curse. The gods smiled on her this time for the ice stopped at the edge of the village.

She could feel her own spell from the castle making its way down now too. A different curse would soon be upon the villagers. This one she couldn't stop. She didn't want to. There were some things that she couldn't forgive.

 It was dawn when she returned to her home. There, she saw her five children sitting near the fire. Her oldest son Baldric was sitting closest to the heat with all four of his younger siblings surrounding him. The two youngest, Ceinwen and Ronen, were sitting in his lap. Isabella and Grainne were sitting on stools. All five of them were watching the door.

Tuesday Teaser - Faerie Tale

Well, I thought I'd throw out a bit of a challenge. This is the beginning of one of my rewritten faerie tales and I'm curious to see what people's guesses are as to which one I'm rewriting.

Lord Gaelan Sexton kicked his horse into a gallop. Behind him, two of his soldiers rode close on his heels. Flames flickered to one side of them and the cries of dying men filled the air. Jokiya, please be safe, Gaelan thought as he rode through the night.

The war between King Royston and Queen Anthousa was in its fifth year. It was only natural that it would reach even here, this isolated part of Anthousa’s kingdom where Gaelan kept his estate. Royston’s soldiers were killing and burning everything in sight, hoping to steal Anthousa’s strength.

The hooves of Gaelan’s horse crunched on the gravel drive up to his estate. A single light burned in the nursery window. The front door was broken off its hinges. Three dead servants lay just inside the door. Gaelan handed the reins of his horse to one of his guards. “Stay here,” he said. The second guard followed Gaelan in. Both men drew their swords.

Though most of his household lay dead on the floor, he could see the uniforms from Royston’s soldiers as well mingling with his servants. He crept up the stairs, listening intently to the silence around him.

As they progressed up the stairs, Gaelan checked every room. He and his guard looked for survivors but found only the dead. They reached the nursery. The door was partially ajar. Gaelan pushed it all the way open. He peered into the room.

“No,” he moaned. He rushed into the room and scooped the body of a pale haired woman into his arms. “Jokiya.”

“My lord, we must go,” the guard said. “Queen Anthousa must be made aware of King Royston’s attack here.”

Gaelan rocked back and forth, holding the broken body of his young wife. He buried his face in her neck and sobbed. Suddenly, from the tipped over cradle, there came a thin wail. Gaelan carefully set his wife down. He picked up the flickering lamp and made his way over to it.

There, half covered by the blankets, was an infant. Large blue eyes peered up at him, full of tears. The infant opened its mouth and let out a pitiful cry. Gaelan gasped as he dropped his sword. He carefully lifted the infant into his arms.

“Yulianna,” he breathed, holding the infant close to his chest. He looked at the guard. “We’re taking her with us.”

“My lord, a flight across the contested area with an infant will be too dangerous,” the guard said.

“I am not leaving Yulianna behind,” Gaelan said. “I should have taken Jokiya and Yulianna with me when I left this last time. I didn’t, and Jokiya is dead. I’ll not leave my daughter to the same fate.” He glanced out the window. “We’ll take the path through the Wyrmwood.”

“My lord, you must be mad. We’ll never make it out of the forest,” the guard said. “It is more treacherous than the road through the contested area.”

“We’ll be perfectly safe in the Wyrmwood,” Gaelan said. He set down the lamp and picked up his sword. He sheathed it and wrapped his daughter tightly in her blanket. He grabbed a small satchel and filled it with her clothes. He handed the baby to the guard for a moment. He scooped Jokiya’s body back up into his arms.

Gaelan kissed her cold lips. He reached behind her neck and unfastened a strange glittering pendant that shone with green fire even in the dim light of the lamp. He tucked it into his pouch and took his daughter back. The guard led the way down the stairs and back to the horses.

“My lord, we must leave quickly before Royston’s soldiers return,” the second guard said, holding the lord’s horse steady.

Gaelan laced Yulianna into his tunic. “They won’t return tonight. They have no reason to,” he said.

“Where to?” the second guard asked.

“The Wyrmwood,” Gaelan said. “It’s our only passage out of the contested region.”

“My lord you’re mad,” the second guard said. “No one has ridden through the Wyrmwood and made it out the other side.”

“Jokiya and I have made the trip several times,” Gaelan said. “I know the path.” Yulianna cried out again. “We don’t have a choice. The main road is too dangerous.”

“Yes my lord,” the second guard said.

“Seth, Connell, have I ever led you down the wrong path?” Gaelan asked.

“No my lord,” Seth said. Connell echoed him.

“Then trust me. We’ll make it through the Wyrmwood,” Gaelan said. He pulled himself onto his horse.

They rode back the way they came. When they reached the fork in the road, they turned right. The massive forest known as the Wyrmwood loomed in front of them. Gaelan led the way onto an unseen track beneath the trees.

For several hours they rode slowly through the shadows. Strange noises often spooked the horses and the men held tight to their reins. “My lord, are you sure you know where you’re going?” Connell asked. “I can barely see my horse’s ears in this darkness.”

“I’m sure. We’re on the right path,” Gaelan said. “Just be patient.”

There was no warning. Darkness turned to day and several shapes materialized from beyond the trees. “Lord Gaelan, why have you come to the Wyrmwood? Where is Jokiya?” A fair haired man with a long sword stepped forward and took hold of Gaelan’s reins.

“She’s dead, Tiedenn,” Gaelan said. “The mad king’s soldiers killed everyone in the house.”

“Why do you carry Jokiya’s heart then?” Tiedenn demanded.

“Because Yulianna lives,” Gaelan said. “I intend to give Jokiya’s heart to Yulianna when she is old enough to wear it.”

There was a murmur like the sighing of wind through the leaves, yet no breeze stirred the air. “You would uphold the pact through your daughter?” Tiedenn asked.

“Yes,” Gaelan said.

“Then we will open the way for you,” Tiedenn said. “Do not forget your promise. We will watch Yulianna, and come to her aid if she ever needs us.”

“Thank you, Tiedenn,” Gaelan said. The strange beings parted and the light faded. A clear path spread in front of them. “Let’s ride. The path will only remain open until dawn.” He kicked his horse into a trot, his guards right behind him.