Over the Hills and Far Away

by Susan Skylark

  ~J.R.R. Tolkien, ‘Journey’s End’~

  Strange the Paths of Fate

  It was a small sleepy village like any other and most of its unassuming residents would never make it into song or story, but alas for our protagonist, for such was not to be his fate, which means his life was about to get far more interesting than was usually the wont of his folk. As this story begins, he was as common a boy as can be found in such a place and time and was going about his life in the most ordinary fashion imaginable. He wanted to get married, which was a common affliction of people his age in those days, but he had no means of supporting a family and thus could not speak his intentions to his lady of choice. Often he pondered how to overcome this difficulty and tried to discern some feasible way of making a living, but ever the inspiration and opportunity eluded him. His heart sank when he thought he might have to leave the village and seek his fortune in the wide world, but there seemed no other choice if he was ever to realize his hopes. He had just come to this depressing conclusion and was wondering how to tell his beloved of his plans, when another option presented itself in the guise of a mysterious lady.

  She swept into the common room of the inn as if she owned the establishment and told the proprietor exactly what she needed by way of a midday repast. So cowed and astonished was he, that he made no complaints but slunk timidly back to his kitchen and began making preparations to humor the lady. She glanced about the nearly empty room with a contemptuous indifference when her eyes fell upon our hero, who was sitting quietly at a distant table rehearsing how best to break the news of his upcoming departure to his lady. Snapped she, “boy!”

  Corvin looked up in astonishment, having thought he was alone save for the innkeeper. He reddened and hastened to her, bowing awkwardly as one unused to the practice, said he meekly, “how may I help you madam?”

  She looked him up and down, as if he were a goose she meant to purchase, said she, “I need a dependable lad to accompany me for a time, to run errands and wait upon me and the like. Would you be such a lad?”

  The boy’s eyes widened in disbelief, as if his prayers had been answered in the guise of this icy vision; to have a place and a position already defined upon leaving the village rather than going off alone into the great unknown with no destination or plan and hoping it might all work out somehow was miracle indeed! He blushed to his toes, bowed deeply, and mumbled, “that I am madam. What would you have of me?”

  She smiled patronizingly, “very good. We shall leave as soon as I have finished my noon meal. You have until then to set your affairs in order and bid farewell to your folk. You will agree to do whatever I ask of you and ask no questions. If you hesitate or disobey, I reserve the right to punish you as I will. You will accompany me for two years and at the end of that time, shall be free to go as you wish or, if mutually agreeable you may continue in my service. I will reward you well at the end of your service and provide for your daily needs until then. Serve poorly and you will regret it sorely. Are we agreed?”

  The boy pondered these things for a long moment, unsure how he felt about such a disdainful mistress or doing as he was bidden without question or hesitation, but then the more utilitarian side of him thought how fortunate he was to have this opportunity suddenly thrust upon him. She seemed a lady after all, and no true lady could ever ask her servant to do anything illegal or immoral. And if she was a little harsh, was that not expected among the aristocracy? Besides, it was only two years and then he would have a bit of money to start himself in either farming or some trade and then he could fulfill the desires of his heart! He took a deep breath, suppressed that part of himself that shrieked a warning to beware the frigid woman before him, and said as boldly as he could, “we are agreed madam.”

  She smiled scornfully, “very well. Meet me in the stableyard in one hour. Do not bother packing anything, as it will only serve as an encumbrance. If you cannot carry it on your person, you will not need it. I shall see that all else is provided.” He bowed again as a quiver ran down his spine, though whether of eagerness or fear, he knew not which. She obviously ignored him and rather uninterestedly looked out the window instead. He dashed off to inform all and sundry of his luck, though he could not yet decide whether it was good or ill.

  His lady bid him farewell with tears, though a hope shone forth in the depths of her eyes, that at last he might speak that which she most longed to hear, but he could not ask it of her until he was sure of his own future, said he, “lady, you know I love you more than life itself, and as such, I cannot ask you to promise yourself to me until I am worthy of you. When I return and have the means to support us both, then and only then may I speak as I so greatly desire. Farewell!” She nodded sadly but swallowed her sorrow that it not pain him more during their sundering. He smiled weakly, but was eager for their meeting two years hence, and this alone gave him strength enough to leave her. He returned home and said farewell to his parents and numerous siblings, took up a few loose items that might be useful or meaningful upon the way, and hurried back to the inn for his appointment with destiny.

  He was a little early, but the lady had finished her mediocre meal and was impatient to be upon her way so berated him even so, “you will appear when I want you. If tardiness is going to be a habit with you, I shall dismiss you this moment!”

  Said he contritely, “forgive me madam, I am usually punctual and you will not find me lax in my duties again.”

  She sniffed derisively but seemed content, “very well, now go to the innkeeper and see if he has a decent set of tack to spare.”

  Corvin vanished inside and soon emerged with the portly fellow, who rubbed his hands together in eagerness but wore a rather timid look, said he, “I do not have anything befitting a lady of your status, madam, but I do have some very serviceable gear. Are you also in need of a horse?”

  “Never mind that,” snapped she, “show me what you have.”

  He showed her his meager collection of worn, but usable equipment and she selected what she would. She paid him well for her purchase and asked if she might leave all but the bridle in his keeping for a few moments while she fetched her horse and also demanded that one of his stable lads be of use to her in saddling said beast. Said he in some surprise, “certainly madam, but I thought that was why you had hired the boy here, to be of use in such tasks?”

  Snarled she, “I will do with my servants as it pleases me and need not be questioned by the likes of you. He has other tasks to which he must attend and I would hope my generosity in purchasing what I have of you would be repaid in kind.”

  The man flushed and mumbled contritely, “forgive me madam, forgive my foolish tongue! It shall be as you say, I should know better than to question my betters. I only thought you might want your own servant to see to your comfort, that was all.” She stared stonily at him, he bobbed his head with a nervous squawk and vanished into the stable seeking after one of his own lads to see to her horse once it arrived.

  She turned icy eyes to Corvin, “come, and do not be such a fool as he and ask questions unbidden, or it will be the worse for you.” She stalked off and the boy trailed meekly after. They left the village and the boy wondered where she was to get a horse, as there was no farm or stable upon the small winding road they were taking, it was only the path to the upper meadows where the sheep were kept in summer and veritably abandoned this early in the spring. She stopped suddenly and asked, “are we like to be disturbed here?” The boy shook his head and a cruel smile touched her lips, “now learn a part of your service to me, but remember to ask no questions and to balk not at that which shall be asked of you.” She spoke in a fell tongue and Corvin’s heart quailed in terror.

  Some minutes later, the lady returned to the village down that winding path leading a dapple stallion by the reins, the creature’s eyes rolled in confusion and astonishment but he seemed placid as an aged gelding as his mistress led him into the stableyard of the inn. As
agreed, one of the grooms tacked up the beast and then handed the lady into her saddle. A triumphant smirk graced her lips as she turned the beast and rode out of town, leaving the locals to wonder at the lady herself and where she had gotten such a horse and what had come of Corvin. None of their suppositions brought them any comfort, but only a chill feeling of dread that they could not explain.

  No questions indeed! What a fool he had been, perhaps still was to be serving a sorceress thus, but what choice did he have? If he ever wished to be anything but a horse, it depended upon the whims of she who sat upon his back, and he had agreed to this service, if in a general sort of way. He should have heeded that part of him that cried out in horror at the very thought of serving such a mistress, but such was now his plight and he must deal with it as best he could. They trotted on for most of the day and only as evening drew on did they wander off the road into a secluded glade, wherein the enchantress worked her fell powers again and he was a boy once more. Said she, “this then is your service to me, serve me in whatever guise and errand I set you and you shall do well, disobey or hesitate and you will feel my wrath. Agreed?” The boy stared at her with terror filled eyes but he nodded. “Good,” said she with a contemptuous smile, “now there is an inn ahead. Go forth and procure me a room and a meal. Off with you.” The boy blinked for a moment in surprise but then dashed off as quickly as his legs could carry him. She followed slowly after with a gloating smile on her face.

  He attended her whilst she ate, hastened about a few more errands on her behalf, and then she bid him go outside the inn and return in a few minutes. He looked a question at her, but thought the better of it and hied himself into the night. A few minutes later, a great dog stood at the inn door, whimpering to be let in. His mistress was waiting and let the beast enter, saying to the innkeeper, “see that he gets a few bones and let him lie by the fire.” Said she more to the dog than her host, “he will ward me and the inn from any disturbance in the night.” The dog whimpered pathetically but lay resignedly down in the indicated place.

  So it continued for over a year, the lady traveled from place to place upon her own unspoken errands while Corvin served her however she asked it of him. Often he thought ruefully to himself that she treated him no worse than such a harsh lady of any sort might treat her servants, aside from the strange matter of the different guises he was wont to wear. So he served her faithfully, neither hesitated nor disobeyed, and never asked questions. She never seemed pleased with his service but neither did she often criticize or reprimand, which for her must mean she found his service satisfactory. He longed for the day when he would be free of her and able to resume some semblance of a normal human existence, for never was he found in human form except when she had need of a servant or errand boy, otherwise he was almost always a horse by day and a dog by night, the latter costing less to maintain than either horse or servant.

  One day as they stopped for a meal at midday in a pleasant glade beside a chattering brook, the lady gasped in outrage. The horse looked up from his grazing and blinked in surprise, for they were not alone in the clearing. A desperate waif of humankind had crept from the edge of the forest and was silently going through the momentarily forgotten saddlebags, looking for anything that might aid his meager existence. The woman snarled the now familiar words that would restore the boy to his human form, and hissed, “destroy this impudent wretch who dares trifle with my belongings!”

  Corvin had a dagger at his belt and the thin, wasted child before him was no match for even such an inexperienced foe. But the boy’s heart pitied this poor wretch who was slowly starving and an outcast from all kith and kin. His hesitation brought the witch’s wrath to bear upon himself, said she in grim warning, “I bid you act, will you dare defy me and risk the consequences?”

  Corvin shook his head, “do your worst madam, I will not raise my hand against so desperate a child of men nor any other innocent whom your fury deems worthy of destruction.”

  She stared at him in wonder, as if she had never seen him before, but then said with cold indifference, “very well, you have earned whatever I deem to be your fate. Come, I want to make the next village by nightfall.” During the exchange, the terrified orphan had vanished into the surrounding woods and her fury with him. She said her fell words, mounted the now dejected horse, and rode off into the sunny afternoon, saying placidly, “this then is your doom: tomorrow I shall sell you to the first interested party in the horse markets yonder and never more shall you wear the guise of a mortal man.” For the first time in their acquaintance, she laughed, and it was not a pleasant sound. He resigned himself to his fate, for he knew she had neither mercy nor pity marring her soul, at least he would not be left to wonder at her revenge. He wondered if sparing so meager a life could be worth his own, but that same inner whisper that had once cried out in horror at serving such a mistress, though appalled at his own fate, did not repine his choice, regardless of the consequences. He sighed deeply but bore his mistress faithfully upon their last ride together, wondering what his beloved would do when he never returned more. For the first and last time, she stabled the beast that night and upon the morrow led him out into the thronging bustle of a market day.

  True to her word, she offered the creature to the first dealer of horseflesh with whom she chanced to meet. He eyed the animal skeptically, thinking there must be more that the woman was not saying. Here was a fine, well-trained, and compliant animal and the woman was determined to be rid of it. What was the catch? Said he in some consternation, “madam, never have I seen such a fine specimen with an owner so adamant that I take the beast off their hands. What hidden fault are you trying so desperately to be rid of with none the wiser?”

  She smiled sweetly, at least as she thought, but looked more like she had a toothache, “he is only a bit stubborn on occasion. I tire of the beast and am in the market for another.”

  He eyed the stallion incredulously, “I still do not believe you. I’ll take him, but at half the price you offered, I may have to get him gelded if he is such a handful as you claim and that is a trouble and expense I would rather avoid.”

  Her smile deepened cruelly as she replied, “very well, you should probably do just that.”

  “We’ll see,” said the man grimly as he counted out her money. The horse looked on the verge of panic as this conversation was going on, but thankfully the man did not like the woman whatsoever and seemed far more inclined to do just the opposite of whatever she recommended. She turned one last, vile smile upon the unfortunate beast and vanished into the swirling crowds. The merchant turned to the horse and said, “well beastie, you had yourself a very foul mistress, I pity you that, but I will not hold her words against you. I’ll give you a chance to prove yourself before we do anything regrettable.”

  “Ho, there! Merchant!” the man turned from the beast to see who was hailing him, covering his astonishment with a genuine smile.

  “What can I do for you my Lord?” asked the horse dealer.

  “I like the look of that beast, how much do you want for him?” asked the noble young man.

  The man could not cover his astonishment and said, “I hardly know, my Lord, he has just come into my possession and I cannot vouch for his health, training, soundness, or temper.”

  Said the young Prince with an eager grin, “I will assume all the risk then.” He named a price twice that of what the merchant had hoped and was soon in possession of the beast. He climbed aback his new purchase and slowly waded through the throng of people, leaving the merchant to gape and then rejoice in the events of the day.

  The young Prince met his entourage at an inn on the edge of town and they gawked at his purchase and the price thereof. To them it was a fine, but rather unremarkable grey horse, but the Prince felt he had somehow done something quite grand, if he could not say exactly what. Against the better judgment of his companions and even himself, he had felt a great urge to go into the very
heart of the teeming market that morning upon quest unknown, but the moment he glimpsed the horse, he knew he must own the beast. With the day still young before them, all felt it time to return home and they set off with a good will, if a bit perplexed as to the strange addition to their party. Corvin, quite grateful to the enigmatical young lord he now bore, rejoiced in this sudden change in his otherwise grim destiny and showed the young man that he was no common sort of horse. By the time they returned to the castle, the entire party knew that this was perhaps the most wondrous horse ever foaled, though little enough did they know he never had been.

  The horse bore his master faithfully wherever he had a mind to go and the Prince would far rather walk than be found astride any other beast. Whether upon a journey of state, in grand procession, in pursuit of game, in the joust, or upon a pleasurable jaunt, ever did the creature bear him with grace and skill heretofore unknown to unthinking beast. Even when war loomed and battle called, so too did Corvin bear his master upon the path of death and sword. The King slain, but his Kingdom triumphant, now Corvin bore the newly crowned King upon the road of peace.

  Some months after he had laid his father in the grave and finalized peace with his warring neighbors, the new King stood in the stableyard of the castle with his faithful steed at his side, said he, “if only I could find a wife as faithful as thee, my dear, strange friend.” The horse reared and tossed his head in excitement and the King stared at the beast, as if he feared him mad. But it was not fury but eagerness that tinged his screams. The King felt a very great desire to mount the suddenly fey beast, the same urging he had felt the propitious day of their meeting. He shook his head ruefully, but dared not deny this great urging of horse and heart, and flung himself into the saddle. The horse dashed off into the rising morn with all the speed he possessed. They ran madly out of the city and off into the golden mists of dawn, wherein the King doubted not some fairy maiden waited his coming.

  It was no fairy maiden or even an elfin city that the King found later that day, it was simply a village as ordinary as any other, but therein dwelt a maid of equal heart to that of his wonderful beast. Corvin knew he could never marry his beloved, but he also knew his master to be a man of great heart, compassion, and sense and that his onetime lady could not find a better husband nor the Kingdom a better Queen. They stopped outside the lady’s door and the King dismounted, quite perplexed but strangely eager. He eyed the horse curiously and the beast gave him an encouraging shove with his head. His Majesty shook his head and smiled ruefully, but knocked boldly upon the door; it was answered by a comely young woman, whose eyes held some secret sorrow momentarily superseded by astonishment, to find the King upon her doorstep. Corvin’s heart smote him sore, that the lady was so consumed with grief at his continued absence and wished somehow to ease her heart, but perhaps new love was the only answer to such sorrow. Quite awkwardly, she asked His Highness to come in if he would.

  The King was smitten almost from the first with this beautiful, sweet creature, and her silent agony became a foe he was determined to fight and rescue her from, as if it were a dragon that held her captive. He came, day after day, and listened as she poured out her heart or they talked quietly together of many things as they walked in the summer glories of wood and meadow. It had been five years since her beloved had gone away and never more had she heard of him; at last she was forced to lay aside all her maiden hopes of his returning and found herself at last free of the untimely old age of grief and sorrow and again a joyous young maid, free to live and to love, as no promise but disappointed love bound her to her lost beloved. Corvin’s heart both ached and rejoiced at the budding romance, but he knew her love could not be his nor should she be bound to one who would never return. She grew as fond of the uncanny horse as her royal suitor, and in this Corvin rejoiced. They were soon married and the whole Kingdom marveled at the match, but rejoiced to learn she was such a fair and gracious lady, though a peasant born.

  The years passed and ever did that faithful steed bear his lord, his lady, and all their many children whither they would. The eldest Prince was often abroad on the exciting but rather trifling adventures that are the essence of life itself to all young creatures under the sun. On one such foray, he and the faithful beast strayed into a wild and forbidden part of the realm on an errand now quite forgotten but whose results lived on in the young man’s memory for the rest of his life. For here there be bandits and other lawless men who dared not show their faces in the more civilized parts of the realm. And into a party of such outlaws did the intrepid pair ride and just as quickly turn tail and flee back the way they had come. The scofflaws poured insults and arrows after the fugitives but Corvin’s great heart bore him up even as the arrows embedded in his flesh tried to pull him down, but he would not abandon his young master to death or worse at the hands of those that pursued them.

  Finally ahead, he glimpsed a company in the colors of the King’s guard and at last he could go no further. He collapsed to the earth, breathing harshly and flinging the hapless boy from the saddle, but the guards rushed upon the young Prince, one bearing him to safety while the others gave chase to the murderous vagabonds who had pursued him. The boy cried out in despair to be sundered from his failing beast but they dared not risk the boy’s safety and carried him mercilessly back to the castle where his parents welcomed him tearfully home, but soon bemoaned the grim fate of the faithful creature themselves and rode out with all haste to see what had come of the matter once the renegades were dealt with. The entire Kingdom thought the King as mad as his onetime companions had thought him, the day an errant thought sent him into a market village in search of a remarkable horse, when he ordered that the beast be interred among the graves of all his Royal forebears and the Royal family gathered to mourn its passing.

  The horse lay dying and momentarily forgotten as the young Prince was borne to safety and the bandits were pursued. A light engulfed the stricken beast, at least to his own perception though none standing about would have witnessed anything odd, and a great, compassionate voice said, “faithful heart, would you live on in this mortal world as the wisest and fairest of creatures that go on four legs or would you pass beyond the shadows of this world and come again into the inheritance of men, though long have you been sundered from your kindred?” The beast could not speak but the voice knew the secret language of heart and soul, the meaning of all silent words. He was tired, so dreadfully tired, his had been a meaningful life, one of purpose and joy, but to his very soul he was a man, had always been, would always be, regardless of his physical form. And with no little joy, he doffed his weary mortal coil and slipped beyond the shadows.

  Old chairs to mend! Old chairs to mend!

  I never would cry old chairs to mend,

  If I’d as much money as I could spend,

  I never would cry old chairs to mend.