by Nancy Madore
But this old woman could offer no more information on the location of the prince’s castle than the other. She gave the girl an enchanted hair comb, instructing her to wear it if she found the prince, as it would bring her good luck to do so.
With still not the slightest idea of how to find her prince, the heartbroken girl continued doggedly on and, at length, met with yet another old woman along the road. With this woman she shared a similar exchange as she had with the other two. This woman advised her to seek the East Wind for the information she desired and, giving her a magic feather, instructed her to thrust it out before her and follow it to the home of the East Wind.
Accordingly the girl tossed the magic feather out in front of her, which was immediately picked up by a strong wind that came from the west. Following the magic feather, she now made much better time and quickly found herself at the doorstep of the east wind. Her journey was far from over however; for the east wind knew not the location of the castle that lay east of the sun and west of the moon. So he took her to his brother, the west wind, who took her to see the south wind, until finally it was determined that the north wind was the only one who could help her after all.
And so, after many days and nights of travel and much hardship, she hopped on the wings of the north wind and was on her way to the castle that lay east of the sun and west of the moon.
When the North Wind at last dropped her at the entrance of the long-searched-for castle, she was a frightful sight and, try as she might, she could not gain entrance there. Frustrated, she sat under a large window to think of what she could try next. Unconsciously, she began to play with the golden apple that was given to her by the first old woman on the roadside. She repeatedly tossed the apple into the air, catching it as it came down.
Now the prince’s evil stepmother caught sight of her playing with the golden apple from her window high above. The greedy woman instantly resolved to have the rare treasure and offered the girl anything she wished in exchange for it.
“I wish to see my true love, the prince,” announced the girl boldly.
The prince’s stepmother was taken aback by this audacious reply but allowed the girl inside so that she might ultimately find a way to get the apple from her.
“If indeed you are the true love of my stepson, the prince,” began his crafty caretaker, “then you could no doubt pick him from one hundred men.”
“Of course,” replied the girl.
“Well then, in that case, I shall grant you an opportunity to pick your true love from among one hundred men, in exchange for that golden apple.”
“Gladly,” agreed the girl, holding out the apple, but then as an afterthought, she added, “of course, I will also need a bath and a new dress.”
The stepmother agreed to her conditions with a wicked laugh, snatching the apple from her, and then quickly ringing a bell to summon a servant. Dismissing the girl to the care of the servant, she wandered off to gloat over her treasure.
The prince’s true love was bathed in scented water and then given a beautiful golden gown to wear. Remembering, suddenly, the words of the second old woman by the roadside, she swept her hair up in the enchanted hair comb.
When these preparations were completed, she followed the servant to the dining room. But upon arriving there she found herself in an empty room, with only one place setting on the table. A handsome young manservant entered, bringing her an assortment of delicious treats for dinner.
“Am I not to dine with the prince?” she asked him.
“After dinner, madam, you will be brought before the prince and allowed to choose him…or any other that you wish.” He said this civilly enough, but with such a smirk on his face that she drew back as if she had been slapped.
“I have come a very far distance to find my prince,” she replied haughtily. “I can’t imagine why you would dare to imply that I might choose another man besides him!”
“Perhaps it was wishful thinking” was his rejoinder. “You see, I am one of the other ninety-nine men you will be choosing from.”
“I do see,” she replied curtly, thinking to herself, You will be punished for your impertinence when I marry the prince! She ate what she could of the dinner in silence.
Shortly after the meal, she was led to the room where she would at last see her beloved prince. The servant left her at the door. Taking a deep breath, she opened it. There stood the prince’s stepmother.
“Where is the prince?” demanded the frustrated girl.
“He is just beyond that door,” his stepmother replied, pointing to yet another door at the far end of the room.
“But,” she added, just as the girl was rushing toward that portal, “there are a few things you should know before you rush in there.” She smiled as she continued. “There are one hundred men in that room. All of them have been placed under a spell so that they cannot move from the place where they stand, and they cannot utter a sound. It was necessary to do this, for, if you truly love the prince, you must find him among the men without his help.”
“I do not need to hear him speak to find him, nor will he be required to come to me,” replied the girl.
“Also,” continued the stepmother, ignoring her remark and smiling wider, “since you strengthened the original curse by bringing light upon the darkness, you must now relinquish the light and once again enter the darkness to find and save your beloved prince.”
The girl gasped. “Do you mean to say that I must distinguish him from ninety-nine others—in the dark?”
“If it is really true love, it can be done,” the cruel woman replied, again dismissing the girl by ringing the servant’s bell. But before leaving the girl alone, she turned to add, “Be careful to whom you speak in the room, for your choice of a ‘true love’ will be determined by the first man you speak to.” And she was gone.
The girl turned to the servant who answered the bell, an older woman who regarded her kindly. “I should be grateful if you could offer any advice,” she implored.
“Remove your clothes,” said the old woman calmly.
“What!” exclaimed the girl.
“Remove your clothes,” repeated the woman. “That is how you know him and you will choose the man you know.”
“But, what if…” she paused, uncertain.
“It is the only way,” replied the shrewd old woman. “You will not get another chance after this.”
Seeing the wisdom in the old woman’s words, she quickly removed her clothing. Then she opened the door and walked into the blackness beyond. The door closed immediately behind her.
Although the room was silent, she could feel the presence of the men who crowded the large room. Slowly she moved forward. It occurred to her suddenly that she hadn’t even touched the face of her prince, for he had thwarted her every attempt to seek his identity. She had only that one glimpse of him by candlelight. She knew him only as a lover. Would that be enough to help her now?
All of a sudden, she felt someone beside her. She reached out her hand in the dark and discovered a man standing there. The thought of the smirking servant crossed her mind, and she recoiled instantly. But the man reached out a steady hand and held her. With her heart racing, she let him draw her near. His hands slid down the length of her body, touching her intimately. She tried to concentrate on his hands and recall exactly how her prince’s hands had felt when they were touching her. Were these his hands that caressed her now? The man reached a hand between her legs, prying her open and thrusting a finger inside her warm body.
But something was wrong. The fingers that were digging into her flesh were cold, not warm like her lover’s. With a small cry of horror, she tore herself from the impostor’s hands.
The next man she encountered had much warmer hands. Like the former, he touched her body intimately, without reserve. Did all men grasp and clutch at a woman in exactly the same manner?
But there seemed to be something familiar in this one’s touch. She turned up her face towards his
in the darkness. His lips immediately came down on hers in a soft kiss. Pressing her body close to his, she slowly wound her arms around his neck, thinking this man could be her prince. Her body began responding to his warm kisses and caresses, and yet, a slow dawning crept up within her that this man could not be her prince after all, for his kisses were much too wet!
And so it was that, as she went up and down the length of the room, she searched in vain for her prince. There were indeed a few times when she believed she might have found him, but in her fear of choosing the wrong man she always held back from speaking. Yet she clung to those men who reminded her of the one she loved and, yes, even allowed a few of them to take her, right there in the room, thinking that she had at last found her prince, only to discover moments later that he could not have been him after all.
Her whole body shook with frustration and anxiety over the enormity of the task that lay before her. She was in a constant state of arousal as she wandered about the room, doing unimaginable things with complete strangers. And as the night wore on, she could not determine one touch from the next, but only hoped for a miraculous sign that would enlighten her and free her from the degrading search she had been forced to endure. And all the while she knew that her prince was there, silently listening to her moans and cries as she traversed the room, and perceiving her inability to quit the arms of each impostor before giving a little bit of herself to him.
Tears poured down her cheeks as she pressed on, discouraged, but unable to give up until she found him. She wondered if she had encountered the servant from the dining room yet, and if so, how far she had allowed him to go with her. Was he one of the men who had taken her right there on the floor, easing the aching hunger she felt, if only for the moment?
Blindly she stumbled on, praying for a miracle. And there, in front of her, stood yet another man. She approached him with the tears still on her cheeks.
Abruptly the man clutched her in a fierce embrace and crushed her lips under his. She could not remember having ever been kissed so violently and struggled to get away from the savage grasp that was bruising her skin. He did not relent, however, and she almost cried out for help, but at that same moment she remembered that she could not speak. If she spoke out she would not only lose her prince forever, but possibly be obliged to remain with this brute as well! A real terror seized her, as she realized that the violent stranger might force himself on her, without her even being able to utter a single word.
But the man seemed to collect himself and he loosened his hold somewhat, although not enough so that she could escape him. For several moments he simply held her close to him, and she could feel his heart hammering inside his chest. His face was buried in her hair and, momentarily mesmerized by the smell of it; he relaxed his hold on her slightly as he inhaled the sweet scent.
Thinking this her opportunity to bolt, she twisted herself out of his grasp and turned to flee. In that instant, the enchanted comb fell from her hair, releasing it, even as her captor reached out for her. Her loosened tresses fell directly into one of his hands and he closed it tightly around them. She was abruptly obliged to halt her escape.
Very slowly, and purposefully, he wound her hair around his hand, round and round, bringing her closer and closer to him, until her face was only inches from his own. Something within her stirred. With his hand still clutching her hair, he gently pulled backwards, forcing her head back and positioning her lips directly below his own. She felt his familiar warm breath on her lips before he claimed them in a gentle kiss, just like the old familiar kisses she now remembered. She shuddered to think that she had almost run away from him. But why had he been so violent with her when she first approached him?
She blushed suddenly as she imagined her prince standing there in the dark, listening to the sounds of her lovemaking with those impostors who managed to fool her into thinking that they were him. She realized that it was anger that had made him grab her so brutally.
But he was tender with her now, as his body entered her right there where he was obliged to stand until she released him. They clung to each other in the darkness and, finally certain of her true prince, she whispered, “I love you.”
Upon this admission, they were at once returned to the castle of the white bear, where they were both once again lying together in their very own bed. There were one hundred candles lit about the room, and the two gazed at each other, amazed by all that had happened.
The prince and his true love were married, of course, and have lived happily together since that day. And though she loves nothing more than the sight of her handsome prince, his wife sometimes dreams about that unknown lover, and, on such occasions, he comes to her.
Even now, this very evening, the prince is waiting outside her bedchamber door until it is fully dark, when he will slip quietly in…
Goldilocks and the Three Barons
There is little that is so utterly vexing as an interfering busybody. Such a one is always poking about, seemingly trying to learn about causes and effects, but generally just stirring up a great deal of trouble over nothing. These meddlesome trespassers bash and barge their way into the most intimate places, disregarding decorum and logic in their efforts to create an illusion of something shocking or remarkable. It matters not whether the affair they are about to divulge is real or factual; either way it must be exposed. And one of the most notorious of these offenders was Goldilocks.
Goldilocks was deeply interested in matters not relating to her, particularly those of a confidential nature. These she would turn into feature articles that she would then submit to her editor at the Woodland Enquirer. She had exposed and humiliated countless inhabitants of the forest in just this way, and it was a dreadful thing, indeed, when one was unfortunate enough to have done something to capture her notice.
It was through this circumstance that Goldilocks came to be in a more remote part of the forest one morning, in search of three English barons who lived there. It was a curious and unusual thing to her that three men should decide to separate themselves from civilization and live alone together in the deepest part of the woods. Unconventional behavior, to her mind, was synonymous with wrongdoing, and since the men were wealthy and renowned, she felt it her responsibility to reveal their secrets to the world.
The barons, on the other hand, were completely unaware of the interest they had stirred with their actions. Although they were indeed isolated from the rest of society, living so far out in the country, the lifestyle nevertheless suited them, for they were pompous and intolerant by nature, and found the general community to be somewhat odious and tiresome. The common tastes of the majority were unbearably vulgar to them, and the general public’s concerns seemed utterly absurd. In view of these opinions, it did not seem at all out of the ordinary to the barons that they should wish to separate themselves from what they considered to be the lower classes. And, in truth, these supposed lower classes were no doubt better off for not having shared a more intimate acquaintance with the snooty barons.
And so it was, with their usual self-absorption and total unawareness of any interests outside of their own, that the barons sat down to eat their morning meal. Their only immediate concern was the observation that their morning porridge was unusually hot. A discussion ensued to determine a solution to the matter.
“I say,” remarked the first baron, raising his eyebrows and addressing his friends in an icy tone. “This porridge is exceedingly hot.”
“Indeed,” agreed the next. “It is offensive, to say the very least.”
“Perhaps we should leave it where it lies in its incorrigible heat,” added the third. “In time, I think, it will rehabilitate to something much more palatable.”
So saying, the three set out for a morning walk in the woods, where they leisurely wandered about, amusing themselves with anecdotes about the wildlife that dwelled there. The animals scampered about happily, unsuspecting of any insult in the barons’ mocking innuendos.
While t
he barons were thus discharged, Goldilocks discovered their secluded cottage. As she was not often of the mind to address her subjects directly, she approached the house cautiously. Very stealthily, so as not to be discovered, she advanced toward the back of the cottage and peered into a window. This glimpse did not provide the verification she sought, however, so she proceeded to another window, and then another, until she was finally satisfied that the house was, for the moment, abandoned.
Goldilocks crept up to the front entryway and put her ear against the door. There was not a sound to be heard within. Next she ventured a timid knock, to which there was no response. She tentatively turned the doorknob and, delighted to find the door unlocked, she opened it up and poked her head inside. After a moment, she stepped into the house and closed the door behind her.
Once inside the cottage, Goldilocks immediately noticed the porridge, dished out in bowls upon the table. As she was unmindful of the offense she committed by entering the barons’ cottage uninvited, it should not shock the reader that Goldilocks would further impose by tasting their food, which was so carefully laid out that she imagined it must have been intended for a guest such as herself to eat. Indeed, it would have seemed downright rude not to have done so. Besides, one can learn quite a lot about persons by the food that they eat, she reasoned neatly. And so, without further thought or consideration over the matter, she seated herself before one of the bowls and lifted the spoon to her lips.
“Oh,” she exclaimed, jerking back. “This is too hot!” She pulled out her notebook and jotted down a few words. Then she moved to the second bowl to taste of it. But she nearly choked on that one as well, remarking, “This is too cold.” Again she scribbled in her notebook. But the third bowl was more to her liking, and she said, “This is just right!” She made another quick notation before finishing the contents of that bowl.
Having concluded her research in the kitchen, Goldilocks ventured into the living room. There she found three very different chairs. She sat on one of them and practically slid right off the seat. “My goodness, this is much too hard!” she exclaimed, making a few notes before she went on. She sat on another chair and nearly disappeared into the cushions. “This is too soft,” she observed, recording her thoughts. But the third chair was very comfortable, and she said, “This is just right.” But the chair was old and, with a low creaking noise it suddenly burst apart, tossing poor Goldilocks onto the hard wooden floor. Furiously she scribbled in her notebook.