by J.A. Clement
follow.
“You have done nothing to harm her?” he demanded, standing his ground. The creature shook its head. “What do you want from me?”
The snowmaiden beckoned again, and pulled at the shawl and beckoned.
“Do you mean that Greta wants something from me?” It nodded. “Is she safe?” Its hesitation was clear to see, and it spurred him into action. “The wagon is stuck in the ditch – I’ll have to take the horses…” The snowmaiden strode over to the wagon, considered the matter and then pushed it forward out of the ditch. Matthias fell silent for a moment, then grinned, nervous. “Very well, I’ll take the wagon…” He gave the lantern to the creature while he harnessed the horses, and when all was ready it moved on ahead of him with it, lighting the way.
Greta had managed to get her grandfather into bed and warmed up again. She boiled the kettle and made him drink several cups of tea, and when his colour was better and he was sleeping a more normal sleep, she ventured to take a look at the injury to his leg. It was not a case of serious hurt, more a painful crushing, she thought, but it meant that he would not be able to come out with her to retrieve the hard-won logs they had had to leave behind. Perhaps she could do it herself? But her head ached and she felt sick and dismally sure that she would not be well enough to do so before the fire burnt out in a few short hours’ time. Had the snowmaiden saved them only for them to perish in the night frost in their own home? Greta found she could not care too much about it; at least she was with her grandfather, together and safe from predators. The rest would have to sort itself out.
A light shone in the window; a voice called, a voice that she knew, and the latch rattled. Going to open it, Greta was staggered to see Matthias there with his caravan, taking the lantern from the snowmaiden who bowed gravely in response to his thanks and once again disappeared into the dark.
“Greta, you have blood on your face. Are you all right?” Matthias demanded, forgetting the strangeness of his helper entirely in his worry. Greta looked at him standing there for a moment; and then she burst into tears, and found herself in his arms, and being comforted as she had often wished to be. It was all so overwhelming that she could not understand it, and submitted meekly as he sat her down, made her tea and piled up the fire with wood from the stock he carried with the caravan.
That night he slept sitting on her grandfather’s comfortable chair, warm under a blanket with the fire going strong, and Greta slept as secure and comfortable as she had ever been. There was a great sound of crashing and rending from outside, but the falling snow muffled the sound slightly, and in the house, they were wrapped in the deep unconsciousness of the exhausted, and did not hear.
Over the next few days, Matthias remained while they nursed Pappy back to health. On the first day they ventured out to discover that a thick blanket of snow had fallen in the night. Matthias went into the woodstore where he had stabled his horses to discover that not only were they hale and hearty, but also they were stabled amongst great piles of logs and kindling which appeared to have been ripped and smashed into manageable pieces. When questioned as to whether this was her work, the snowmaiden graciously nodded her head. They did not know whether she understood their thanks but told her how grateful they were anyway.
When Greta recovered herself a little and went out into the cold later, she was a little upset to discover that the wood the snowmaiden had provided was the lovely old holly tree, which she had pulled down; but the holly logs burned bright and warm, despite the greenness of the wood, and she could not regret it.
The snow froze crisp, and the three sat in the kitchen chattering in high spirits. It was getting near Yuletide, and Matthias disappeared into the wood and reappeared with a little pine tree to decorate, which he planted in a pot. As they now had wood enough to heat the whole house, they moved back into the parlour and placed the tree there by the window. It filled the room with a fresh scent, and when Matthias produced from the caravan the oranges and cloves he had bought to decorate his own home, the three of them spent a few happy hours making pomanders to hang on the tree so that the whole house was redolent of dark cloves and sharp citrus as well as the rich pine, all of which combined to make up the scent of Yule. Matthias had candles for the tree which they attached, though they would not light them until Yuletide itself, and Greta raided her wardrobe for ribbons which they draped about the tree until it was as colourful as anyone could wish; but the snowmaiden stood outside the parlour window and looked in, unable to enter the warmth of the house.
“It’s nearly Yuletide,” Greta mused, “and we owe so much to the snowmaiden. How can we ever repay her? What can we give to her?”
“What would someone made of snow want?” Matthias shook his head. “How can we possibly know?”
“Has anyone asked her?” Pappy’s voice interrupted. The others turned to look at him. “No? Well why not try?”
“Why not?” Greta smiled. They looked out of the window where the snowmaiden stood looking in at the three of them. “Let’s do just that.”
“Snowmaiden, we’re coming up to a day where we celebrate and are thankful for what we have,” Greta began, feeling slightly foolish. “We like to give each other presents, things that we would enjoy having. We would like to give something to you but we don’t know what. Is there anything that you would like?”
The snowmaiden considered this and then nodded.
“Can you show me what it is?”
The snowmaiden set off across the field, and Greta and Matthias followed. She took them across to the wood where Matthias had found his pine tree and gestured at another of a similar size.
“She wants a tree?” Matthias was baffled, but the snowmaiden nodded. “This specific one?” Another nod. “Do you want it here? No? Very well, we can move it. Greta, do you have any idea what this is about?”
“I’m not sure…” Greta watched as the snowmaiden grasped the tree’s trunk and pulled it out of the ground, then set off back to the house where she put it down outside the parlour window. “Matthias, I think it’s meant to be a Yule tree. I wonder if she’s lonely, all on her own outside watching us?” That got a nod too. “Matthias, I have an idea. Can you plant the tree for us, please?”
“Certainly.” Matthias took a shovel and hacked his way down through the frozen earth until it was about the right depth, and planted the tree. Greta and the snowmaiden were still busy round the other side of the house, so he went into the woodstore and took the reindeer’s harness from the hook. He and Pappy spent a few minutes unbuckling the stiff leather and rebuckling it all into one long rope of multicoloured leather, which he then went out and arrayed on the tree with a couple of the orange pomanders they had made. It looked a bit odd, perhaps, but was colourful and festive so he was quite pleased with himself.
“Good grief! That’s wonderful!” Greta returned from the back of the house with the snowmaiden, who moved slowly and with awe over to her tree and gazed at it for some minutes.
Matthias watched, a little nervous. “Do you think she likes it?” The snowmaiden turned and bowed.
Greta laughed. “I suspect that’s an emphatic yes. Do you want to see what we’ve been doing?” They walked round to the spot where she had first made the snowmaiden, and there stood a most wonderful snowman, as sculpted as she and as perfect. “He’s still just snow though, and I don’t know what made her come to life.”
The snowmaiden reappeared, and gazed at the snowman for a moment; and then she touched Greta’s arm.
“Is there something else you want?” Greta watched the snowmaid gesture at her own dress and then Greta’s clothes, at the snowman and then at Matthias. “I’m sorry; I don’t understand.” The snowmaid tried again, but still with no success. Finally, she went back to the tree and waited. They followed and watched as she picked the pieces of leather out of the tree one by one. The black one she laid over her arm. The green piece, the red piece, the blue piece, all went over her arm; but the white piece
she dropped on the ground. Then the pieces of the second harness, red, blue, green and black pieces over her arm and the white piece on the ground.
“She doesn’t want the white one?” Matthias was baffled, but the snowmaid nodded and held the coloured ones in a hug to herself. “She doesn’t want white but she does want colours.”
“She wants colours…” Greta repeated. The snowmaiden picked up the white and held it against herself, where it was barely visible; then she held it out so that it was bland against the white fields. Lastly, she dropped it on the floor again, and picked at the crimson shawl she wore, and the holly sprig, and Greta suddenly realised what the snowmaiden was trying to say. “Of course! She wants colours! Matthias, she’s snow on snow; from a distance you can hardly see her. Do you want colours on yourself, on your dress?” The snowmaid bowed again. “I don’t know how we’re going to do it, but we’ll get you colours, and your young man too!”
The snowmaiden picked up all the bits of coloured leather and began to array them back in the tree as Matthias and Greta returned to the house to warm up a bit.
“I see we have a new tree!” Pappy grinned. “Told you she’d know what she wanted – I never met a female that didn’t…”
“Ha!” Greta pulled a face at him. “Pappy, she wants a coloured dress as well. How can we do that?”
“Can’t you lend her one of yours, Greta?”
Greta shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t think it would fit, and I’m not sure she could get it on anyway. I think what she wants is to be coloured in.”
“Can we do that?” Matthias was dubious.
“I have some beetroots. We could use the juice from them I suppose…”
Pappy guffawed. “Hark at you two! Beetroot juice, honestly!”
“Do you have a better idea?” Matthias shrugged.
“Yes I do,” Pappy grinned. “How about paints? I’m a carpenter, I have pots of the stuff. You can’t make a caravan without the proper decoration, and who do you think does that? That would be the man with paint, the one who’s sitting in front of you.”
“Perfect…” Greta danced across the parlour in her delight. “This is going to be so wonderful!”
The following morning was the Eve of Yuletide, and they spent considerable amounts of time painting, Greta taking on the challenge of painting a beautiful dress for the snowmaiden and Matthias sorting out some painted clothes for the snowman. As they finished, Pappy emerged from the house with a tiny pot and brush, and hobbling still, painted a red gold necklace and bracelet on the snowmaiden. She was highly delighted, and being cold enough to freeze the paint into something reasonably solid, she whirled and admired the delicate patterns Greta had painted on; but when they got back to the snowman it still stood inanimate.
“What are we missing? What made you come alive?” Greta asked, but all she got was a sad shake of the head. The snowmaiden turned to walk away, but stopped. Sitting right behind them was the hare, that same hare that had danced in the snow on the first night. “Why, hello!” Greta found that she was genuinely glad to see it. “You seem to be a wise creature, hare; do you know what we should do to make the snowmaiden’s partner come alive?”
The hare lolloped over to the shattered stump of the holly tree, and the snow maiden followed in mounting excitement.
“Is it the holly? Oh no...” Greta breathed.
“Have we burnt it all?”
“No, not yet.” Greta followed Matthias into the woodstore where they spent some time sorting through the woodpile until they found a log which had a twig still attached, a little fragile