~Nursery Rhyme~
By Candlelight
A single candle guttered fretfully on the bedside table, little noticed by either the grief stricken old dame in the chair with her careworn face in her hands or the silent, wan figure in the bed. The little girl fought for her life against a fever that had already claimed countless victims down through the ages while the old woman’s whole world flickered on the brink of extinction like the forgotten candle, for the child was all she had left of kith or kin and this night would either end her struggles permanently or see the dawn of a brighter morning. So did the girl wander in troublous dream while her grandmother fervently prayed that some miracle might yet spare the stricken child.
The little girl was warm, oh so warm, she sat up in bed and stared longingly out the window into the cool of an autumn night, but terrified of the darkness, she took up the candle before she hastened out into the refreshing breeze that whispered of winter’s coming. She danced gaily down the fieldstone walk her great grandfather had laid down for his new bride so many long years ago, rejoicing in her freedom after so many days abed, afflicted with fever, delirium, and pain. Her merry laughter was echoed back by the bright stars, her dear friends since first she thought to name them. A gentle path wound leisurely through the tame wood that surrounded her grandmother’s small cottage and she thought what a joy it must be to tread it in the mysterious shadows of moon and creeping mist. She turned her steps thither and was soon lost amongst the swaying shadows of bare limbed trees. She skipped down the familiar path, now turned fey with moonlight, mist, and dancing shadows, singing as merrily as a skylark on the wing with only her candle for company.
How long or far she traveled, she did not know, but the world was now utterly strange about her. The mist had thickened and glowed slightly in the starlight, for the very stars were odd, gleaming in peculiar brilliance and number in their courses above. The trees were far fewer in number and widely scattered, but of such beauty and stature, height and girth, that she felt this wood was planted at the dawning of the world. There was a feel in the air, an imperceptible song that trembled with Joy itself. The old year was dying, but in this strange wood, she was certain it was always Spring. She stopped and gazed about her in awe and wonder, her very being quivering in delight just to exist in this marvelous place. She wondered if she had strayed into one of the outer provinces of a lost country of the fairyfolk.
When a unicorn stepped out of the luminous mist and greeted her by name, she was in nowise surprised, rather had a common rabbit hopped across her path she would truly have been astounded. For here she felt sure only dwelt that which was never seen by the light of common stars. She smiled upon the wondrous creature and walked along beside him, discussing all the questions and mysteries of the ages before and yet to come, her childish mind strangely capable of understanding all his wise and beautiful speech. So did they wander until dawn hinted at her coming, but the girl thought that should she witness the imminent morn, never again could things be what they once were. They stopped then on a hill, overlooking a little cottage that huddled forlornly in the dull grey of the predawn, mist shrouding it like a pall. Behind them, a bright and golden path led onward into an eternal morning.
Said the creature quietly, “will you descend or will you arise and go?”
The candle was now burning low and she knew she would never need it more upon that wondrous path, but perhaps her grandmother sat alone in the dark and wondered what had come of her. She sighed heavily and looked into the fathomless eyes of her companion, asked she, “must I return?”
He smiled slightly, knowing the burning ache to go that fretted like some trapped wild thing in her heart, but said he quietly, “the choice is yours child. The time of parting is upon you, but there is one that begs that it might be deferred a little while.”
The child looked gravely at her candle and then upon the sad little cottage in the dell below. She smiled sadly up at her companion and said, “I had best return the light to poor, dear grandmama, that she not linger on alone in darkness and fear.”
He nodded and said quietly, “I will await you here.”
She was about to ask how long he might wait and knew that he would bide there for all eternity if he must. Her smile deepened and her heart grew firm in its resolve as she descended the hill and bore the sputtering candle back home.
The candle on the bedside table finally went out, fully spent, but the sun peeped in the window and chased away the night’s lingering shadows. The child on the bed stirred and the woman by her side looked up from her grievous dreams. The girl sat up and smiled wondrously at the old matron, saying, “I have brought back your light grandmama!”
The old woman smiled in relief and greatest joy, “that you have my darling, that you have!”
“So they took it away, and were married next day
by the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined upon mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon.”
Over the Hills and Far Away Page 16