The Halcyon Fairy Book

by T. Kingfisher

  Her mother smiled scornfully and said, “Who would give that sun darkener such robes?”

  Point one for the stepsister. I wonder if she’s still got horns?

  Little Rag Girl left the church before anyone else; she changed her clothes in time to appear before her stepmother in rags. On the way home, as she was leaping over a stream, in her haste she let her slipper fall in.

  A long time passed. Once when the king’s horses were drinking water in this stream, they saw the shining slipper and were so afraid that they would drink no more water. The king was told that there was something shining in the stream, and that the horses were afraid.

  … okay, “the fairest lady in the world dropped this shoe” is one thing, but, “and the horses are petrified!” is something else again.

  The king commanded his divers to find out what it was.

  Naturally he had divers! Part of any good royal household. You’ve got the butler, the food taster, the ladies-in-waiting, and the royal divers.

  They found the golden slipper, and presented it to the king. When he saw it, he commanded his viziers, saying, “Go and seek the owner of this slipper, for I will wed none but her.” His viziers sought the maiden, but they could find no one whom the slipper would fit.

  Little Rag Girl’s mother heard this, adorned her daughter, and placed her on a throne. You know, one of the thrones you keep in the cupboard for a special occasion.

  Then she went and told the king that she had a daughter whose foot he might look at. It was exactly the model for the shoe. She put Little Rag Girl in a corner, with a big basket over her. When the king came into the house he sat down on the basket, in order to try on the slipper.

  Little Rag Girl took a needle and pricked the king from under the basket. He jumped up, stinging with pain, and asked the step-mother what she had under the basket. The stepmother replied, “It is only a turkey I have there.”

  You know, one of those new fangled needle turkeys. We crossed them with porcupines so they could eat tree bark. Tasty, but you have to be really careful plucking them.

  The king sat down on the basket again, and Little Rag Girl again stuck the needle into him. The king jumped up, and cried out, “Lift the basket. I will see underneath!”

  The stepmother pleaded with him, saying, “Do not blame me, your majesty, it is only a turkey, and it will run away.”

  It’ll kill us all! You wouldn’t believe the range of a needle-turkey’s quills! And the gobbling! The horrible buck-toothed gobbling!

  But the king would not listen to her pleas. He lifted the basket up, and Little Rag Girl came forth, and said, “This slipper is mine, and fits me well.” She sat down, and the king found that it was indeed a perfect fit. Little Rag Girl became the king’s wife, and her shameless stepmother was left with a dry throat.

  While it lacks the oomph of “And they exploded into pebbles!” I have to say that that last is a kind of nice touch. Nobody gets killed or hacked to pieces or pushed off cliffs in barrels full of unpleasantness, but “left with a dry throat” definitely leaves you with a sense of chagrin.

  The Story of Log

  This is a Finnish folktale, sent in by an Alert Reader, who said I had to read it and was so very, very right. It’s from Mighty Mikko: Finnish Folk Tales and Fairy Tales by Parker Fillmore (New York: Harcourt, 1922).

  Log, the Hero Who Released the Sun

  Hmm. Log. Well, it’s better than “Charming.” Probably an old Finnish name. Log Logsson. Inga Logsdottir. Maybe that’s Norwegian. Well, anyway. Log.

  ONCE a poor couple had no children. Their neighbours all had boys and girls in plenty but for some reason God did not send them even one.

  “If I cannot have a flesh and blood baby,” the woman said one day, “I’m going to have a wooden baby.”

  Oh god, he’s really a log, isn’t he?

  She went to the woods and cut a log of alder just the size of a nice fat baby. She dressed the log in baby clothes and put it in a cradle. Then for three whole years she and her husband rocked the cradle and sang lullabies to the log baby.

  We saw this before with the Hog Bridegroom, but y’know … at least the pig was alive. Three years gets us heavily into people-with-baby-dolls-they-think-are-real uncomfortable-silence territory.

  At the end of three years one afternoon, when the man was out chopping wood and the woman was driving the cows home from pasture, the log baby turned into a real baby! It was so strong and hearty that by the time its parents got home it had crawled out of the cradle and was sitting on the floor yelling lustily for food.

  Oh dear god, he’s made of were-wood.

  It ate and ate and ate and the more it ate the faster it grew.

  Ravenous log baby! Nothing weird about that. Nope.

  It was not any time at all in passing from babyhood to childhood, from childhood to youth, and from youth to manhood. From the start, people of the village knew it as Log, and Log never got any other name.

  I can’t help but imagine the way this went down, with the neighbors knowing that Log’s parents were suffering some very strange issues.

  “Guess what? Log sat up today!”

  “I … see.” *avoids eye contact* “Well. That’s … um … something. How nice for you.”

  “And he said his first word, too!”

  “… sure he did, Martha.”

  And then one day here they come with the log, and it’s practically a teenager, and clearly it must LOOK like a log enough that they knew what it is, so the neighbors are presumably sitting on the porch, watching the family walk by.

  “So a teenaged log just walked by with his parents … ”

  “I’m going to drink heavily now, Martha.”

  “That sounds like a great idea, Sven.”

  Log’s parents knew from the start that Log was destined to be a great hero. That was why he was so strong and so good. There was no one in the village as strong as he was, or anyone as kind and gentle.

  Aww. It’s nice that Log is a sweetie. I suppose it’s probably very calming being were-wood. Maybe on the full moon you just stand out in the garden and root.

  Now just at this time a great calamity overtook the world. The sun, the moon, and the dawn disappeared from the sky and as a result the earth was left in darkness.

  “Who have taken from us the sun and the moon and the dawn?” the people cried in terror.

  “Whoever they are, “the king said, “they shall have to restore them!”

  Don’t be a sun and moon hog, dude.

  “Where, O where are the heroes that will undertake to find the sun and the moon and the dawn and return them to their places in the sky?”

  There were many men willing to offer themselves for the great adventure but the king realized that something more was needed than willingness.

  “It is only heroes of unusual strength and endurance,” he said, “who should risk the dangers of so perilous an undertaking.”

  So he called together all the valiant youths of the kingdom and tested them one by one. He had some waters of great strength and it was his hope to find three heroes: one who could drink three bottles of the strong waters, a second that could drink six bottles, and a third one to drink nine bottles.

  … waters of great strength. Uh huh. Is that what they’re calling it these days?

  Hundreds of youths presented themselves and out of them all the king found at last two: one was able to take three bottles of the strong waters, the other six bottles.

  “But we need three heroes!” the king cried. “Is there no one in this entire kingdom strong enough to drink nine bottles?”

  My heroes must be strong and willing and have livers made of cast-iron!

  “Try Log!” someone shouted.

  All the youths present at once took up the cry, “Log! Log! Send for Log!”

  Everybody loves Log! Log is popular! He’s kind and gentle and oh-so-strong! The men want to be him, and the ladies want to be with him.

  And I bet he
has amazing woo — Ahem.

  No, no. I’m good. Not going for the easy shot there. We are dignified here. We are serious scholars of folklore. We are OH GODWOOD­WOODWOOD­WOODDICK­JOKEWOOD­WOODWOOD!

  ( … wood.)

  … right. Now that’s out of our system.

  I feel better now. Do you feel better now?

  Do you want to sing the Log Song from Ren & Stimpy first?

  Okay. Go ahead. I’ll wait.

  Right. Moving on!

  So the king sent for Log and sure enough, when Log came he was able to drink down nine bottles of the strong waters without any trouble at all.

  Log is used to wood-grain alcohol. This is nuthin’. Hardly makes you blind at all.

  “Here now,” the king proclaimed, “are the three heroes who are to release the sun and the moon and the dawn from whoever are holding them in captivity and restore them to their places in the sky!”

  He equipped the three heroes for a long journey furnishing them money and food and drink of the strong waters, each according to his strength. He mounted them each on a mighty horse with sword and arrow and dog.

  And dogs, too! That’s awesome! It’s nice to see a king for once who is neither an idiot nor a villain.

  So the three heroes rode off in the dark and the women of the kingdom wept to see them go and the men cheered and wished that they, too, were going.

  Roadtrip! And the king supplied the booze AND the dogs!

  They rode on and on for many days that seemed like nights till they had crossed the confines of their own country and entered the boundaries of an unknown kingdom beyond. Here the darkness was less dense. There was no actual daylight but a faint greyness as of approaching dawn.

  They rode on until they saw looming up before them the towers of a mighty castle. They dismounted near the castle at the door of a little hut where they found an old woman.

  “Good day to you, granny!” Log called out.

  Log is very polite. You would expect no less, of course. When was the last time you saw a tree with road rage?

  “Good day, indeed!” the old woman said. “It’s little enough we see of the day since the Evil One cursed the sun and handed it over to Suyettar’s wicked offspring, the nine-headed serpent!”

  “The Evil One!” Log exclaimed. “Tell me, granny, why did the Evil One curse the sun?”

  Suyettar, near as I can tell, is a really nasty witch that shows up as a recurring villain in Finnish folktales. The Evil One, presumably, is the Devil, but Log is not required to fight him.

  “Because he’s evil, my son, that’s why!”

  No beating around the bush with motivations for us! We’ve got serpents to kill!

  “He said the sun’s rays blistered him, so he cursed the sun and gave him over to the nine-headed serpent. And he cursed the moon, too, because at night when the moon shone he could not steal. Yes, my son, he cursed the moon and handed her over to Suyettar’s second offspring, the six-headed serpent. Then he cursed the dawn because he said he couldn’t sleep in the morning because of the dawn.”

  I used to have this problem. Then we got Venetian blinds in the bedroom. I wonder if the Devil has considered this?

  “So he cursed the dawn and gave her over to Suyettar’s third offspring, the three-headed serpent.”

  “Tell me, granny,” Log said, “where do the three serpents keep prisoner the sun and the moon and the dawn?”

  “Listen, my son, and I will tell you: When they go far out in the sea they carry with them the sun and the moon and the dawn. The three-headed serpent stays out there one day and then returns at night. The six-headed serpent stays two days and then returns, and the mighty nine headed monster does not return until the third night. As each returns a faint glow spreads over the land. That is why we are not in utter darkness.”

  This old lady is a serious quest giver. I assume there’s a big yellow exclamation point over her head or something.

  Log thanked the old woman and then he and his companions pushed on towards the castle. As they neared it, they saw a strange sight that they could not understand. One half of the great castle was laughing and rocking as if in merriment and the other half was weeping as if in grief.

  Probably this means the people in it, but I love the image of the castle itself sobbing into the moat and the other half shaking its towers in glee.

  “What can this mean?” Log cried out. “We had better ask the old woman before we go on.” So they went back to the hut and the old woman told them all she knew.

  Many fairy tales would be easier if this old woman was hanging out in them.

  “It is on account of the dreadful fate that is hanging over the king’s three daughters,” she said. “Those three evil monsters are demanding them one by one. Tonight when the three-headed serpent comes back from the sea he expects to devour the eldest. If the king refuses to give her up, then Suyettar’s evil son will devour half the kingdom, half of the castle itself, and half the shining stones. O, that some hero would kill the monster and save the princess and at the same time release the dawn that it might again steal over the world!”

  Hint, hint.

  Log and his fellows conferred together and the one they called Three Bottles, because his strength was equal to three bottles of the strong waters, declared that it was his task to fight and conquer the three-headed serpent.

  I can take three bottles of Jack Daniels! I can take your damn serpent, too!

  Meanwhile, in the castle preparations for the sacrifice of the oldest princess were going forward. As the king sewed the poor girl into a great leather sack, his tears fell so fast that he could scarcely see what he was doing.

  “My dear child,” he said, “it should comfort you greatly to think that the monster is going to eat you instead of half the kingdom! Not many princesses are considered as important as half the kingdom!”

  Heck of a bedside manner on this guy, huh?

  The princess knew that what her father said must be true, and she did her best to look cheerful as they slipped the sack over her head. Once inside, however, she allowed herself to cry for she knew that no one could see her.

  The sack with the princess inside was carried down to the beach and put on a high rock near the place where Suyettar’s sons were wont to come up out of the water.

  There’s a sign. It says “Multi-headed Serpents Only. All Others Will Be Prosecuted. No Lifeguard On Duty. Do Not Feed The Twenty-Four-Headed Otters.”

  “Don’t be frightened, my daughter!” the king called out as he and all the court started back to the castle. “You will not have to wait for long, for it will soon be evening.”

  … I see that we’ll be making up for the restraint of the previous king here. “It’s okay, honey! The monster will eat you at any moment! Isn’t that an ego boost?”

  Log and his companions watched the king’s party disappear and then Three Bottles solemnly drank down the three bottles of strong waters with which his own King had equipped him.

  *glug glug glug*

  “I’m goodsh. Lemme at ’im. What’re you lookin’ at, anyway? Think you’re so speshul ’cos you’re a damn LOG. Well, you’re not. You’re not speshul. You’re not better’n me. You’re just a damn … piece of … wood … *sniff*

  I din’t mean it, man. I love you. You know I do. You’re … like … my besht friend, man. Log. Wha’ever.”

  As he was ready to mount his horse, he handed Log the leash to which his dog was attached.

  “If I need help,” he said, “I’ll throw back my shoe and then you then release my dog.”

  Both shoes are for wussies. Real men fight drunk, with one shoe, and their dog. Sort of like Rocky III meets Old Yeller.

  With that he rode boldly down to the beach, dismounted, and climbed up the rock where the unfortunate princess lay in a sack. With one slash of the sword he ripped open the sack and dragged the princess out. She supposed of course that he was the three-headed serpent and at first was so frightened that she kept he
r eyes tightly shut not daring to look at him. She expected every minute to have him take a first bite and, when minutes and more minutes and more minutes still went by and he did not, she opened her eyes a little crack to see what was the matter.

  “Oh!” the princess said. She was so surprised that for a long time she did not dare to take another peep.

  “You thought I was the three-headed serpent, did not you?” a pleasant voice asked. “But I’m not. I’m only a young man who has come to rescue you.”

  Fortunately he had time to sober up while she was peeping.

  The princess murmured, “Oh!” again, but this time the “Oh!” expressed happy relief.

  The third “Oh!” expresses something else again, but we got that out of our systems early on.

  “Yes,” repeated the young man, “I am the hero who has come to rescue you. My comrades call me Three Bottles. And while we are waiting for the serpent to come in from the sea I wish you would scratch my head.”

  … ah …. is he still drunk?

  The princess was not in the least surprised at this request. Heroes and monsters and fathers seemed always to want their heads scratched.

  I … wait … what? Um …

  Is this a euphemism for… no, she said fathers, and he doesn’t seem like that kind of king, with the sobbing and the bad bedside manner and whatnot. Dumb, but well-meaning. So … uh … huh. How ’bout that?

  So Three Bottles stretched himself at the princess’ feet and put his head in her lap. He settled himself comfortably and she scratched his head while he gazed out over the dark sea waiting for the serpent to appear.

  Is Three Bottles a large dog or a unicorn or something? “The Unicorn With The Iron Liver!” Man, that’d be a helluva furry kung-fu flick.

  At first there was nothing to break the glassy surface of the water. They waited, and at last far out they saw three swirling masses rolling landward.

  “Quick, princess!” Three Bottles cried. “There comes the monster now! Get down behind the rock and hide there while I meet the creature and chop off his ugly heads!”