Tales Before Tolkien

by Douglas A. Anderson

  No such words, however, greeted the eyes of our traveller. Something much more curious and unusual did he read. This was the inscription:

  “Within this wood do Ogres dwell,

  And Fairies here abide as well;

  Go back, go back, thou miller’s son,

  Before thy journey is begun.”

  “Well,” exclaimed the young man, when he had read these words, “this beats cock-fighting! How can they know here that I am a miller’s son? and how could they have found out that I was coming just to this place, and so have got this board put up all ready? However, if they know as much as this, they might also have known that Joe Brown is not the chap to turn back for a trifle when he has once started. Go back, indeed! Not for Joe! None of my noble name ever yet knew what fear was, and I am quite resolved that I will never disgrace my family!”

  With these brave words on his lips and noble sentiments in his heart, Joe Brown marched forward boldly into the wood, and proceeded for some considerable distance without meeting anything to annoy him in the slightest degree. The turf was soft under his feet, the trees above his head afforded the most welcome shade, and the birds poured forth their sweet melody in a manner which rejoiced his heart, and made him think that he had never heard better music in his life. At last, however, he came to a rather open space, when he saw immediately before him, some thirty or forty yards off, an old dead Oak, with two great branches, with scarce a leaf upon them, spreading out right and left. Almost as soon as he noticed the Tree, he perceived, to his intense surprise, that it was visibly agitated, and trembled all over. Gradually, as he stood stock-still with amazement, this trembling rapidly increased, the bark of the tree appeared to become the skin of a living body, the two dead limbs became the gigantic arms of a man, a head popped up from the trunk, and an enormous Ogre stood before the astonished traveller. Stood, but only for an instant; for, brandishing a stick as big as a young tree, he took a step forward, uttering at the same moment such a tremendous roar as overpowered the singing of all the birds, and made the whole forest re-echo with the awful sound.

  There was no time for Joe to think of escape, and the difficulty would have been great had he had plenty of time; but at the very moment of the giant’s advance, and before the echo of his roar had died away, a low, sweet voice whispered in the wayfarer’s ear, in soothing and reassuring accents, “Stand hard, Joey;” and he had scarcely time to look down and perceive that the words came from a beautifully-marked Tortoiseshell Cat before he began to find his legs stiffen, his body harden; and almost before he could say “Jack Robinson” (which, by the way, was an expression he would probably never have thought of), he was turned into a Hawthorn-tree of apparent age and respectability, having a hollow place in its trunk, into which the Cat quietly crept and lay perfectly still.

  With another roar, the Ogre made two or three strides forward, taking about ten yards in each stride, and then suddenly pulled up short, and stared around stupidly.

  “I saw a Mortal,” he growled, in a voice that made the Hawthorn-tree feel as if every berry would fall off him—“I swear I saw a Mortal, but I don’t see him now! It’s those bothering Fairies again—I know it is—confound them and their tricks!”

  And he stamped so hard on the ground that every mole and rabbit for a mile round felt it; and, in fact, there was a paragraph in the Mole Chronicle next day, stating that the shock of an earthquake had been distinctly felt at that particular time on that very day.

  “Spiflicate those Fairies!” again said the Ogre in an angry tone, using the worst word he knew of, which had the great merit of being understood by nobody. “Here have I been waiting in my oak dress for hours to catch a Mortal, and spank my great grandfather if those Fairies haven’t sold me again! It is really too bad that this should go on!” And he then moved sulkily off, muttering the well-known “Fe-fi-fo-fum,” which is so popular a song among Ogres.

  As soon as he was well out of sight, the Tortoiseshell Cat stepped purring out of the hole in the Hawthorn-tree, and began to rub herself gently against the trunk. Joe Brown felt his bark again becoming skin, his sap blood, and his branches arms, and in a few moments was again himself. He stretched immediately, yawned and sneezed, to be sure that he was just as he had been before, and, having satisfied himself in this respect, turned to thank his friend and deliverer the Cat. But there was no Cat there. He stood transfixed with amazement. How had she disappeared? Where had she gone to? “And what the dickens was he to do?” He uttered these last words audibly, and had scarcely done so when a voice near him exclaimed—

  “Don’t say ‘dickens,’ Joe Brown; it is merely a substitute for a worse word, which your friends in this wood much object to.”

  And, as he turned round to see who or what had now spoken to him, the same voice, which appeared to proceed from an old Hornbeam Pollard which stood near, chanted these words in a low but clear voice:

  “Within this forest Ogres dwell,

  And Fairies here abide as well:

  If these two races could agree,

  No chance of life, O man, for thee.

  But, though the Ogres of the wood

  Eat human flesh, and thirst for blood,

  An honest man will ever find

  The Fairies friendly to his kind.

  In vain the Ogres rage and fume,

  And form of trees in fraud assume,

  The Fairies watch by night and day

  To rob them of expected prey.

  And you, poor mortal, only must

  To fairy aid entirely trust;

  For if you on yourself rely,

  By Ogre cruelty you’ll die.

  So if in danger or in doubt,

  On Fairies call to help you out,

  And, all your scrapes to pull you through,

  Call—and at once—for ‘Puss-cat Mew.’ ”

  “Well, I never!” said Joe, when the voice ceased. And no more he ever had, nor any one else that I ever heard of. And there he stood for a minute, thinking what to do next. It was plainly a place in which there was plenty to be found in the way of adventures, and, of course, it was highly satisfactory to think that there would be always a friend at hand, in the shape of a Fairy, to get you out of any difficulty. On the other hand, he thought it rather beneath him to have to be turned into a tree—or anything else; for, as far as he could see, he might as well be turned next time into a thistle, or a fungus, or any other unpleasant thing, and he didn’t quite like the idea. Besides, he had only the word of a voice—evidently belonging to a partisan of the Fairies—to tell him that his friends were really the stronger: and from what he had already seen it appeared to him that unless a Fairy was there in the very nick of time, an Ogre of the kind which he had seen might destroy him in a moment before help could come. He thought therefore that, after all, he was better out of the forest than in it; for although he did not desire to shun danger, he was wise enough to know that it is no proof of a brave man to run blindly into it; and he therefore determined to leave the forest, and keep round the outside till he got beyond it on his journey. He then turned round to retrace his steps, when, to his astonishment, he again heard a voice singing to him in these words—

  “Of courage we know that Joe Brown has no lack,

  Fa de jo dum, fol de rol do;

  He chose to go on when he might have gone back,

  Fa de jo dum, fol de rol lo.

  But his choice it was made when he entered the wood,

  Fa de jo dum, fol de rol do,

  And he can’t go back now—don’t he wish that he could?

  Fa de jo dum, fol de rol lo.”

  “All right,” rejoined Joe, “my name’s Easy” (which was an entire falsehood, as we know that it was “Brown”). “If I can’t go back, I’ll go forward.” And on he marched with a firm step, for he thought this voice seemed to be chaffing him, and he didn’t like to be chaffed by a fellow whom he couldn’t even see to chaff back again! So he pushed on for a little way, and then sat down
under a fir-tree, and began to eat some bread and cheese which he had brought with him.

  As everything seemed perfectly quiet around him, and he experienced no interruption, he began to think that what had happened must really have been a dream, and that, after all, a bold heart and his own right arm were the best things to rely on, and that it was nonsense to suppose that any Fairy could really help him, or that any danger would occur to him from which he could not extricate himself by his own caution and courage. As this thought took full possession of his mind, he could not help finishing it aloud with the remark—

  “And as to ‘Puss-cat Mew,’ what good can it possibly be to me to call out such a name as that if I was in trouble?”

  Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when a low sigh reached his ears, and he plainly heard the sound of some creature running away over the dead leaves; but though he turned quickly, he could see no one.

  He finished his bread and cheese, and was just thinking of lighting his pipe, when, to his great surprise, he felt a light tap on his shoulder, followed by a cuff on the side of the head, which knocked his wide-awake off, and made his ears tingle for a long time afterwards. Looking up in surprise and rage, he beheld, close to him, a most decided Ogre. Ten feet or more was he in height—with a fur-cap on his head, a grim and most forbidding countenance, very red nose, eyes bloodshot and set deep in his head, prominent teeth looking uncomfortably sharp, and a chin with a bristly beard, which had evidently not been shaved for a fortnight. Wishing to act upon the plan which he had laid down for himself, and determined not to lose heart, Joe put the best face upon the matter at once.

  “Come,” said he, “leave off, will you? None of that! Hit one of your own size!”

  “Fool!” exclaimed the Giant moodily; “a truce to your idle jesting. This is no time or place for it. You’ve put your foot in it nicely.”

  “I don’t see why,” replied Joe. “I’ve a right to be here as much as any other fellow, and——. Come, I say, you let me go, will you?”

  For the other cut his speech short by seizing him, and, in spite of all his struggles, tied his hands and feet with a bit of whipcord which he drew out of his pocket. He then put his finger to his mouth and gave a whistle, which Joe thought was the most fearful sound he ever heard, like seventeen railway trains screeching at the same time, as they entered their tunnels. A crunching of sticks followed, as if some heavy animals were approaching, and two Ogres, who could be little less than sixteen or eighteen feet high, came running up, and touched their hats to the Ogre who had captured Joe.

  “I’ve got one, my men,” said this monster, who was evidently an Ogre of superior rank; “and I think he looks young and tender. Carry him up to the castle, and when I come home I’ll give orders about him. I shan’t want any luncheon to-day, for since I caught those school-children at the picnic the other morning, and rather over-ate myself with the tender dears, crunch my jawbones if I haven’t been off my feed.”

  Joe Brown now felt exceedingly uncomfortable, but had no means whatever of resisting. The servant Ogres produced a large game-bag, into which they popped the unfortunate young miller; and there he lay at the bottom of it, along with an old woman and a young girl, both of whom appeared half dead with fright. The old woman would say but little, and was evidently of no friendly disposition, although in like misfortune with the two others. But the young girl was more communicative, and said that she was a teacher in a school not far from the forest, and having joined the children in a picnic a day or two before, had been surprised by the sudden appearance of a terrible Ogre. Those of the children who bore the best characters escaped with comparative ease; the idle ones were less fortunate, and three, who had neglected to learn their collects the Sunday before, and had fidgeted notably during the whole of the sermon, were instantly devoured before the eyes of their affrighted Teacher. She had made her escape at the time, but as several of her little lambs were still missing, had ventured into the forest again that day to search for them, and had just been seized by the cruel Ogres. She added, that the old woman was a noted Witch of the neighbourhood, who had done as much harm to mankind as the Ogres, but that it was well known that Witches had no power in any forest in which Ogres and Fairies both lived. The old lady, therefore, having foolishly entered the forest in search of a particular herb of great value, with which she wished to make some magic broth, had been caught by the Ogres, and would certainly find no mercy at their hands. Joe listened with attention, and, in return, told his story to the poor School-teacher.

  Thus they whiled away the time until their bearers came to a stop, and taking the game-bags off their shoulders, opened them, and let the captives out. They were in a small room paved with stones, a beam across the top of it, and rows of hooks fastened in the beam, which bore fruit by no means likely to inspire them with hope. A stout farmer, in boots and breeches, quite dead, hung by the chin from one hook, and from his appearance was evidently nearly fit for dressing. A priest hung next, with his throat cut from ear to ear, who did not seem to have been long dead; and these two were the sole occupants of the Ogre’s larder.

  Joe Brown began to dislike the look of things very much, especially when one of the Ogres said to the other, “Did the Prince say they was to be killed and hung up directly?” “No, you duffer,” replied the other; “to wait till he came home.” And with these words the three wretched Mortals were left alone. The old Witch now began to use the most fearful language, abusing Ogres, Fairies, and even her two companions, whom she said she would tear to pieces if she had but got them out of the wood; but as she hadn’t, and could do nothing where she was, they cared but little for her threats.

  Presently the door opened, and one of the two servant Ogres entered, and cut the cord which bound Joe’s arms and legs, at the same time driving him and his fellow-captives before him through the door. They passed along a cold damp passage till they came to a door at the end of it, on the left hand. This being opened, they found themselves in a large hall, with a big fire at one end, and a table before it, at each side of which sat an Ogre in an enormous arm-chair. At a glance Joe saw that whilst one of these Ogres was the one who had caught him, the other was the Oak-tree Ogre from whom he had escaped in the morning.

  “Ho, ho” laughed the latter, when he saw the captives enter. “Man’s marrow-bones and liver! this is the Mortal whom I saw this morning, and who unaccountably gave me the slip! Girls’ pettitoes! we’ve got him now, though! And, as I live, here’s the old Witch. Ha! my pet, my duckling, my tender love, don’t I long to fix my teeth in your giblets! How good they will be!”

  And he leered horribly at the old woman, who thereupon burst out into a torrent of abuse:

  “You bloodthirsty brute—you cannibal—you wretch—you detestable monster—you anthropophagous demon——”

  But she got no further; for the Giant, who had risen as he finished his own speech, cut hers short by such a terrific kick as doubled the old Witch up like a ball, and sent her up with such force towards the roof, that striking a beam, which broke her back directly, she was as dead as mutton before she reached the ground again: the Giant’s foot, however, caught her again, and she went up once more, and then fell with a dull thud against the pavement.

  “Take her away, and dress her directly,” said the Ogre; “there is nothing so good to eat as your real Witch, but they should always be dressed the same day, or they become tough, and don’t get tender again for an age. As for these other two, as we have game already hanging in the larder, we might keep them for a day or two, only there’s no knowing what tricks those confounded Fairies might play—perhaps they’d better be killed and hung up at once; take them down, bleed the girl to death, that her flesh may be as white as possible, and cut the man’s throat in the back yard.”

  The School-teacher instantly fainted, and Joe heard with very disagreeable feelings; for no one likes the prospect of being killed like a pig, and afterwards eaten by an Ogre; though it must be allowed that if the fo
rmer fate happened to any of us, the latter would cause us little pain or trouble. But the reason of the Ogre’s order for his slaughter brought back to our traveller’s mind the voice and the warning which he had heard. How foolish had he been! He had trusted to his own strength and courage, and this was the result! What could he do? Was it now too late? There was certainly no time to lose; for as soon as the Ogre’s order had been given, the servants raised the unhappy School-teacher from the ground, and giving Joe a push, drove him along the passage down which they had just before passed, at the end of which was a small yard, which they had crossed on leaving the larder, and which had every appearance of being the very back yard in which his throat was to be cut. He was half-way down the passage when these thoughts came into his head, and in a voice of regret and despair he sighed forth the words, “O for my Puss-cat Mew to help me now!”

  Scarcely were the words out of his mouth, when there came down the passage a soft breath of air from the fresh woodlands which he had so lately left; it seemed to carry with it the most delicious perfume you can imagine—so sweet, and yet not too sweet; so strong, and yet not too strong—that nothing was ever so perfectly exquisite. And with the perfume there came a sweet, soft, clear voice—

  “Faithless child of mortal race,

  Courage take, and heart of grace;

  Banish doubt, away with fear,

  Puss-cat Mew is ever near!”