Adele looked up from her weaving. Her eyes were still full of worry.
“Don't leave the roses' protection.”
Snow simply smiled and walked out of their home. Rubbing the sweat and dirt from their clothes was soothing. Martin, Snow thought. What a wonderful name. I wish I had been the one to save his life. Surely, I'd get the chance to tell him how I feel about him. Daydreaming further, she washed.
I find the bear digging into the carcass of an old wolf kill. Not much left but bones and skin, but it will suffice to soothe his hunger. He's bound to sleep a little afterwards, so I decide to come back for a talk in the afternoon.
I return home, but find that I cannot sleep. The memory of a soft bust pressed against my chest keeps me awake, stirring longings I shouldn't have. I have never needed company before. Why now? I recall the sweet scent of her hair. The memory of her smile sends warm shivers down my spine. I get up, leave my home, and jump into one of the bigger streams in the forest. The cold water chills away those unbidden feelings, but not the memories. I need to talk to someone — someone who will not despise me for my short stature. A friend. I remember Adele's words but cannot decide if I should talk to her. After all, Rose is her daughter. So I walk aimlessly through the forest. The group of hunters is still there. They don't dare to return without the prince. I drop a dead, skinned hare from the cliff where they had seen the prince last. It bursts on the rocks and splatters everything with blood and gore. Without them seeing me, I lead them to the clothes that are so conveniently spread over the crags. They wail and tremble, but they collect the evidence of the prince's death and leave.
The forest turns quiet again, but my urge to talk to someone has not diminished. So I talk to the trees and to the mice and to a roe deer. But as much as they accept me as part of their environment, they are not exactly great conversationalists. I need to speak to a human being.
I look up, startled. My feet have carried me to the brook near the women's protected home. Snow is sitting there, washing a skirt I recognize as Rose's, mumbling to herself. She's even lovelier than her sister. Her hands, rough from the hard work she's been doing all her life, resemble tiny birds fluttering about. Her face is that of an angel. I crouch and watch.
Snow remembered the stories her mother had told them about Martin. They were even dearer to her now that she had a name for their friend. Her heart longed to be with him.
“We owe him so much.” She often voiced her thoughts to the nature around her. So far, it hadn't minded.
“Who do you owe much?” The voice was low and gentle, but Snow jerked back as if the water had scalded her fingers. Her eyes flitted around until she discovered a small figure sitting on the opposite bank of the creek. She relaxed when she recognized Martin. He looked just like in her vision.
“You, of course.” She waved him over to her side.
“You owe me nothing.” He waded through the water and sat down on a stone. “If anyone owes me anything, it's the king.”
Snow looked at him, and a strange softness filled her soul. He looked so sad and forlorn, yet strong and capable at the same time. She would probably never be able to ease his sorrow, but she could listen to him.
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
To her surprise, he did.
“When I ran away from home, I found work in the sewers. There are some things an undersized person can do much better than a fully grown one. It wasn't pleasant work, but I needed to eat. Then one night, maybe five years after my flight, I returned from the sewers and bumped into the king — the current king's father. He liked to roam the streets at night to listen to his subjects, leaving coins on windowsills or food on doorsteps. He was a much better king than the one we have now, although he spent way too much money. But that's not the point, is it? The point is that he recognized me and seized my arm.”
“How could he recognize you?” Snow sucked in her lower lip. Had Martin really blushed?
“Let's just say, we met before.” He didn't look at her. “He meant to take me home, insisting that working in the sewers wasn't the way I should live. I knew he was right, at least partly. I hated the sewers. I am sure I did resist, but not very strongly. We had hardly reached the castle gardens when the crown prince stepped from some bushes. How he had grown since last I saw him.
“'Out so late again, Father?' he said. 'Oh, you brought another mouth to feed. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?'
“Then the prince looked at me more closely. His expression changed from annoyed resignation to anger. He remembered me better than I had thought.
“'You! You are not welcome here.'
“He was only eighteen, but of course he was much stronger than I. And he had a sword. I don't recall how I evaded the blade. Maybe the king pushed me out of the way, since it ended up in his left side. I do remember the blood the old king coughed up. The prince screamed for the guards, calling me an assassin, while the dying king urged me to run. I hid in the forest.” Martin stared at his hands, playing idly with his beard. “The moment I stepped under the green canopy, the most curious thing of all happened. I grew a beard. You can't imagine what a strange feeling it is to grow a beard to this length in only a few heartbeats.”
“It must have scared you. I surely would have died.” Snow reached out to stroke his cheek but pulled back her hand, surprised by her own audacity. “If the beard appeared so magically, did it do anything to you aside from changing how you look?”
Martin looked up with a spark of apprehension in his eyes. Was he surprised that she suspected more behind the beard's appearance?
“Well, I stopped aging that day. My body is still twenty years old, although I have spent nearly half a century watching the kingdom go from bad to worse.” He gave a lopsided smile, but at least it was a smile. “And the beard obviously means to stay. As often as I tried, I can't cut it off.”
“You are a very good storyteller,” Snow said. “Why don't you come around more often? I would enjoy that.”
His next smile lit up his whole face.
“I will think about it,” he said tentatively, but his voice trembled with excitement.
The king paced up and down the empty throne room. He had sent them all away. Nobles, guards, everybody was looking for his son. How dare these idiots come home without his one and only heir? The boy had never been outside the castle on his own before, and now he had been missing the third day in a row. What if wolves had killed him, or a bear? There were bears in this forest, he was sure. Bears and … him.
If only he hadn't let the dwarf escape the night his father died. But the bastard had been so stinky and slimy, he hadn't dared touch him. He couldn't know how much trouble that dwarf would be, stealing away half of the citizens and smuggling them to neighboring kingdoms. Well, if his son's so-called friends didn't bring him back by nightfall, they would learn to work the mines as if they had been born to the task.
He stomped over to the window and gazed over to the forest once more. There was no banner or pennon telling him his son had been found, and the sun was close to setting. He ground his teeth. Well, he had one option left. Pursing his lips, he gave a shrill and unmelodious whistle. A green-clad fairy appeared at his side, hovering just out of reach. She was nearly as tall as he was. Shadows danced below her eyes, her shoulders sagged, and her skin held a sickly greenish tinge.
“What do you need me for this time?” The woman's voice sounded hollow and tired.
“Address me according to my rank.” The king didn't bother to look at her.
“Yes, Your Highness. What can I do for you today?” The fairy placed her palms together and bowed stiffly. The king smiled.
“I want to be able to turn into a bird of prey big enough to carry a fully grown man. And I need to be able to turn back into my true form anytime.”
“This is getting ridiculous,” the fairy snapped. “Have you forgotten the terms of our agreement? I will not assist you in molesting your subjects.”
“The imb
eciles that took my son on a hunt lost him in the forest. The kingdom will be ruined without him. I have to fetch him.” The king took a step closer to the fairy, his eyes glittering angrily. “Or are you trying to get out of this contract?”
The fairy sighed.
“I should never have agreed to postpone your christening wish until you were old enough to decide on it by yourself.” She wiped her eyes. “Consider your wish granted. But your strength will fail you if you try to carry off anyone but your son.”
“What if he's been kidnapped?”
“Fine, your son and anyone who harmed him.” The fairy vanished into thin air.
“That's more like it.” The king climbed upon the wide window sill. The sun was setting, and none of the men he had sent out had returned yet. He would give his new talent a try to see how it worked. In the morning he'd start hunting for his son properly. Even with his busy schedule he should be able to fly twice or three times a day. He wouldn't give up before he had his son back, even if it took years.
On my way back to my humble abode, I forget the bear. My heart thumps in the rhythm of my soul's song, making me blind to the world.
Snow White
Happy and bright
the loveliest woman,
the merriest maid
I snort, suppressing a pleased giggle. Why does my mind come up with a silly verse like that? Am I losing my mind? But I know the answer. I also know that regardless of what I am feeling, Snow will never feel the same. How could she when I'm so much smaller? Strangely, that doesn't diminish the heat that surges through my body. I'm so caught up in thoughts, I nearly fall over the bear. He is sitting in the middle of the little-used path to my home and grumbles when I stumble into him.
“You wouldn't dare if I were still a prince.” He growls.
“You're much more intimidating as a bear than you ever were as a prince.” I take a couple of cautious steps backwards, my hands on my beard, just in case.
The bear's red-rimmed eyes bore into mine.
“You can understand me?”
I shrug.
“I understand all animals.” There's no need to tell him I'm the only person who can.
“You look awfully familiar.”
I shrug again. “You had me dangling from a branch,” I say to keep his mind from following this thought any further. “I turned you into a bear. It's no wonder you remember me somewhat.”
The bear roars, and I duck behind a tree. His claws scrape through the bark as if it is paper.
“Turn me back.”
“I don't think so.”
“But why? I hardly know you. What have I done to deserve this?” He slumps to his haunches, his shoulders sag, and he begins to sniff like an unhappy child.
“You've hunted me as if I were an animal.”
Big human tears roll down the bear's snout. I look at him with distaste. I've got the growing feeling that he isn't half the man I thought him to be. Could it be that he got so pampered he doesn't know how to take punishment? I bend forward and stare into his wet eyes. I find no understanding there.
“Come with me.” I lead the way. Twice we hide from an eagle the size of an ox. I've never seen one this big, so I decide to stay out of its way.
An hour later, we arrive at the forest's edge above the king's mines just as the workers change shifts. Hollow-eyed men and children shuffle from the dark wound in the mountain's side. Others shuffle in. Those entering the mines look as weary as those leaving it. My heart goes out to them. I kneel and send my power into the ground. Everywhere in the mine tunnels, new mushrooms pop up — nutritious, tasty, and welcomed by the weary workers. I return my attention to the princely bear.
“On your father's orders, you have driven families from their homes. You forced men and children into those mines. People from several villages toil here. Do you think they like it?”
He stares at the gaunt workers with wide eyes. There might be the first spark of comprehension in his eyes. I lead him onward to where the forest meets the farmland close to one of the raided villages. Too many fields lie bare, covered in weeds and brambles. The few that are still maintained are small. Their harvest is meager.
“You have ripped apart families. Your actions forced women to till the fields, a work they didn't know and many can't do well. Everybody in this kingdom is starving, except for you and your father.”
“Why don't they buy something to eat?” The bear's voice sounds petulant.
“Where would they get the money? The miners aren't paid since the king considers them slaves, and the women tilling the fields have no surplus to sell.”
The bear shakes his head. “You can't hold me responsible for my father's faults. I only did what he told me to do.”
I stroke my beard. “I can hold you responsible for not wanting to see the need of those you hurt. As the future king of these subjects, it should have been your foremost goal to make their lives less miserable.” Sparks fly from my beard as I seal him in the forest. He will not be able to leave it unless he sheds his fur, and that's not going to be very likely any time soon.
“Now, you'd better get yourself something to eat. Winter will be upon us much faster than you think.” I magic myself away. It feels like being ripped apart, but if it'll impress upon him that I'm omnipotent, it's worth the pain. Soon, I'll have to teach him how to hunt in his new body. And if he's too dull to learn, I'll have to be the one providing food for him. I'm not really looking forward to that.
The bear tried to leave the forest only once. His pelt burned as if on fire. He returned to the shady greenness speedily. His stomach grumbled. Back home, he would have called a servant. But here? How was he supposed to know which plants were edible and which were poison? He ground his teeth, a terrible sound in the silent air of the night. When he didn't find anything he recognized as edible, he curled up in a small hollow between a gigantic tree's roots and slept.
The smell of blood woke him. He followed his nose to a clearing where a girl, tender and young, was disemboweling a dead roe deer. The bear licked his nose and ambled forward. Meat was edible. It'd probably be better if cooked, but he'd settle for raw.
“May I partake in your feast?” he asked.
Screaming, the girl jumped up, grabbed her bow, and aimed an arrow at him.
“I won't hurt you.” He lay down to make his point. The girl looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place her. She let her bow sink, but didn't put it away.
“A trained bear?” she wondered out loud.
“I didn't mean to scare you.” The bear tried to look apologetic.
“Stop growling. That sets my teeth on edge.” The girl took a step back. “I'm assuming you're hungry, right?”
Comprehension dawned. She didn't understand the words he thought he was saying. For her, he was nothing but a hungry bear, not the prince. It was a marvel she hadn't run away already. To answer her question, the bear nodded.
The girl cocked her head.
“Do you understand what I'm saying?”
The bear nodded again. He would have liked to speak, but he didn't want to risk sending her away.
“If you do, help yourself to the leftovers.” She pointed to the innards.
Her hand! Now the bear remembered. The girl had been trying to keep him from falling off the cliff's edge. That's where he had seen those delicate features before. He walked toward the food and caught a whiff of her. She smelled like roses in bloom, but he didn't wonder. The scent fitted her perfectly. The coppery aroma of blood and meat drowned out hers, and the bear's snout was watering. He dug in. A bear's taste buds seemed to like different things than a human's, since he didn't even flinch from the rumen. When he finished, he was still hungry, but not as ravenous as before. He licked his pelt clean and watched the girl prepare the roe deer for transport. She tied the carcass's legs together and hung it from a pole she could carry over her shoulder.
“Bye, Bear,” she said, walking away.
Bear. That was as good a
name as any, all things considered. He liked it. In fact, he liked the girl too, so he hurried to catch up.
She stopped. “You can't come with me. Mother and Snow would die from fright.”
He cocked his head and mewed. He wanted to stay with his newfound friend, but she remained adamant.
“You belong in the forest. I don't. If you behave, I'll be back tomorrow and bring you a special treat.”
He plopped his wide bottom on the ground and watched her go. An eagle circled the forest far away. The girl turned twice to wave before she walked swiftly toward her home. His heart went with her. Humanity, the warmth of a fire, talking and joking humans — he missed them much more than he had thought possible. Plus, this girl was gorgeous, much more beautiful than any of the neighboring kingdoms' princesses he had met. A flicker of hope lightened his mood. Maybe she'd keep her word. He'd have to find out how to find more food, so he would be less hungry the next time they met.
He searched the forest for edibles again, watching other animals for clues. His hunger grew, and his stomach grumbled. If only there was something to eat. Anything. He'd settle for leftovers.
In a clearing near the river he found the dwarf with a basket of fruit and a big pile of fish.
“Help yourself,” he said to the bear.
“Why are you doing this for me?”
“The transformation didn't give you a bear's instincts as I had hoped. I want to teach you a lesson, not starve you to death.” Without saying anything else, he left.
Bear dug in. Nuts, berries and fish slipped down his throat, taking the edge off his hunger.
A frightened gasp made him turn. A girl of maybe eight years stood beside a tree, not daring to move. A little boy clung to her grimy apron. Wide-eyed, the children stared at Bear, but their gazes wandered to the two fish that still lay on the ground. His stomach grumbled again. The fish would barely sate him. But…
He looked at the children again. They trembled with fear. Their bony features spoke of a hunger much stronger than any he had experienced so far. He nudged the fish toward them and stepped back. The girl's jaw dropped, but she didn't move. Bear took another step back and lay down. The boy looked at his sister, then darted forward and grabbed a fish. When Bear stayed immobile, the girl walked over to pick up the second fish more slowly.
The Dwarf and the Twins Page 3