Over the Hills and Far Away

by Susan Skylark

  ~Lord Alfred Tennyson, ‘Song of the Brook’~

  Blood and Water

  With a crash and a snort, the great stag broke cover and went bounding off towards the heart of the forest; the hounds were at his heels and added their own cacophony to the noise of the morning. Prince Garret had no need to urge his horse onwards as the beast too was caught up in the thrill of the chase. A pair of servants followed after their young master, ready to aid him however they could. The young prince was alone this morning except for the servants; his brother and various friends had all declined to accompany him on this morning’s foray. The disappointed young man had set out in an ill humor but the beauty of the morning and an almost immediate discovery of their quarry quickly dispelled his frustration so that he completely forgot himself in sheer exhilaration, but the stag was no unwary yearling. He had not attained his size and age by simple luck; he knew the lost paths of the wood and gave the hounds the challenge of their lives. The dogs were good but the stag was better, after several hours of slogging through fen and briar, the stymied creatures gave up the chase with whines of frustration and confusion. Garret drew up his weary horse and dismounted, annoyed at having lost their quarry but still exultant from the thrill of the chase. The servants likewise quitted their saddles, but instead of tending to the dogs and horses as their young master was intent in doing, they whispered quietly together for a moment.

  The Prince was busy with his favorite dog when his world suddenly collapsed into nothing but darkness and pain, followed by an all consuming cold and wetness before he knew nothing more. The hounds whined in confusion and the horses snorted at the scent of blood, but no one intervened as the two servants murdered their one time master. The Prince’s younger brother had paid them well to kill the heir to the throne and then vanish indefinitely from the Kingdom. So it was that they stuck a knife in his ribs while he was preoccupied and then flung him into a nearby pond, watching as the boy’s body sank from sight and waited a few minutes to make sure it did not rise again. When they were certain the boy was either dead of his wounds or had drowned, they gathered up the horses and dogs and made good their voluntary exile. If this had not been a fairy tale, it would have been the end of the story, but thankfully our young Prince lives in a world where myth goes about under mortal sun and star. And thankfully he had fallen into a pond, wherein at that very moment dwelt a water sprite. While the villains watched their victim sink from view, the unseen denizen of the pond took hold of the young man’s hand and drew him deeper still.

  While she touched him, he would not drown but the grievous wound in his side was another matter entirely. The healing arts were not unknown to her people but to aid a mortal man brought with it severe and sometimes dire consequences. She could simply let go of his hand and let him sink, drown, die, that would be the easiest choice but it could not be hers. But what could she do? Could she pay the price? She looked at him then, intently, pityingly, and she knew she could and she must.

  Garret awoke on the bank of the small pool, completely soaked, frozen to the bone, and utterly exhausted, but alive. He thought it had all been some terrible dream, but there was a puddle of fresh blood on the trampled grass and no sign of the hunting party remained. Slowly and painstakingly, he sat up and inspected himself and his surroundings. He stared in amazement to see a young maiden sitting a few feet from him, smiling as if she knew some secret the world could never know. Said she without preamble, “the choice is before you, child of men. I have saved your life, but that act will cost us both dearly. You can become my husband and one of my people, you can reject my gift and go the way of all flesh, or I must become a mortal and dwell forever away from my own kind.” He thought the day could get no stranger but he was quite mistaken.

  Said he after several minutes of silent bewilderment, “who or what are you lady?”

  She smiled coyly at him and said, “a water sprite is what your uncreative tales label my folk, but in our own tongue we are the Undine.”

  Asked he in astonishment, “and why is such a burden placed upon you for aiding me?”

  She shook her head, “the healing of a minor wound or illness might be overlooked, but to salvage a soul from death comes only at a great price. Thus is some great sacrifice required on both our parts. I must lose my immortality or gain a husband of which I know little. You must either leave your own people and life to take a wife of an unknown people or live in knowing what your life has cost another.”

  The boy smiled in spite of himself, “or I might die and absolve you of all responsibility?”

  She smiled at his jest and said, “yes, I did mention that as an option but I thought you too sensible a creature to choose that end.”

  “What if I were a vile fiend and let you sacrifice everything on my behalf rather than do what any honorable man knows he must?” said he, intrigued by this lovely, playful maiden.

  She laughed like water splashing in a fountain, “ah, sir! But would it not be far worse to be wed to such a terrible man for all of Time rather than to endure a few short years of mortality? But it seems you have made your choice.”

  He nodded, “there can be but one choice lady, but am I so completely cut off from my own people hereafter? For there is yet one thing I must do. My attackers did not do this merely to steal my horse and hounds, rather some fell villain put them up to it to gain the crown for himself.”

  She smiled at him with laughing eyes, “you will belong to the Undine hereafter, but you may interact with men as your heart desires. You cannot be a King among men but you can certainly aid in bringing your enemy to justice and protecting your Kingdom from such a threat.” He rose on unsteady feet and cordially offered her his arm, yet found himself leaning on her for support rather than simply escorting her as a man ought to accompany a lady. Said she, “we must wed immediately, how is it done among your people?”

  He stared at her, “I thought this must be done according to your traditions?”

  She shook her head and smiled demurely, “nay, it is the husband’s traditions that must be followed but hereafter our traditions shall be yours, but first we must commence with our union.” He glanced about him, trying to remember where he was and if there might be someone nearby that might avail them in their plight. He thought for a moment and finally remembered an old hermit that dwelt in this remote part of the forest; he might not be able to solemnize a marriage but he could at least give the boy dry clothes or possibly a horse.

  A half hour of walking brought them to the rather rundown cottage and Garret’s hopes of horses died aborning, but perhaps this old recluse had the authority that they required. He knocked upon the door but there was no answer. Garret slumped down on a sagging bench beside the door to wait, wondering if he would die of pneumonia before the old man returned, but he came almost immediately out of the woods with a bundle of firewood on his back. He stopped for a moment to study his company and then hurried forward, offering apologies and welcome. He soon had a fire going, from which the maid drew back somewhat timidly, and had laid a simple but hearty meal on the table and given the boy a dry set of clothes.

  Once the lad seemed recovered somewhat from the trials of the day, the man broached the subject upon which none of them had yet spoken, “so what brings such noble younglings out this far? Trying to elope are you?”

  The pair exchanged an almost guilty look of surprise at the man’s insight, but Garret said quietly, “can you conduct a legal wedding, my good man?”

  The man’s smile was answer enough, but it vanished under a look of concern as he said, “do you know what you are entangling yourself in lad?” The boy looked hopefully at his bride and then questioningly at the man, who continued, “have you run away because your parents disapprove of the union or are you in some trouble that you think a hasty marriage might patch up?”

  Said the girl quite abashedly, “sir, we are in a rather odd predicament but I would not
call it a hasty marriage but rather a necessity. As to our parents, they can have no say over this union.”

  The man said sternly, “I will not be a party to something that will only end in disaster!”

  The boy shook his head, “nay sir, we know very well what we are about to undertake. Marriage is a serious business and this particular union even more so.”

  The man looked more closely at the boy, surprised by the earnestness and sincerity in his voice. Then he studied the girl and a knowing look entered his eyes, as he said to the lad, “you know then that your bride is no mortal maid?”

  The boy said quietly, “I am well aware of that sir and it is what must be done in our strange situation.”

  He looked to the maiden, “and you lady? Would you unite yourself irrevocably to a mere man?”

  She nodded, “I have already made my choice in the matter and must abide by his decision.” He shook his head in wonder but soon enough did as they asked of him.

  No sooner had the boy avowed himself as the girl’s husband, than he collapsed in agony and flopped like a landed fish into the little brook beside which the girl had insisted the ceremony take place, vanishing suddenly from sight. The men had thought she wanted to be married there in a fit of whimsy or romance, as it was a very pretty spot, but she had a much more practical reason in mind. In thus uniting himself with a water sprite, he had yet to abide by the second part of his promise, and that was to become such himself, which of course required water. They both stared at the little beck in silence for a moment, the girl in anticipation and the man in wonder.

  Suddenly the boy’s head appeared above the water and he smiled joyously at his bride. Then he turned to look at the old hermit and said, “my gratitude is ever yours sir, if ever we can be of service, simply come to this little stream and ask us to come.” He looked to the lady once more, smiled deeply as she leapt in beside him, and they vanished like water poured from a cup into a bucket. The man had seen much in his wandering days but this still managed to make him scratch his head in wonder.

  Garret and his lady surfaced in a broad, shallow lake swathed in mist and bathed in the light of a full moon; the lake was nearly covered with swans who floated peacefully along, disturbing the otherwise perfect reflection of the silent moon overhead. “I do not like this,” said Erinea as she glanced around at the idyllic scene.

  “Nor I,” said Garret, who did not see anything to mar the wonder of the sight but rather felt that something was gravely amiss.

  “There is fell magic at work here,” said she.

  Garret nodded his agreement as they both vanished beneath the surface and swam towards the heart of the disquiet feeling. They surfaced quietly, hidden in the reeds that crowded the side of the lake. What appeared to be a beautiful maiden stood on the bridge that spanned a deep-channeled river just before it joined with the lake; the bridge was the only way to cross the river without swimming the lake or risking the fast and dangerous current of the river. The maid stood upon the bridge, apparently waiting for someone or something. Soon, the sound of hooves on the hard packed road was heard as a gallant knight approached the bridge, intending to cross but struck with wonder upon sighting the maid. She pointed to a large white water lily that seemed to glow in the moonlight and sighed, “ah good knight, would you fetch for me that fair flower?”

  The Knight, bound by some strange chivalric oath to obey at once any command of any lady in distress, immediately halted his horse, dismounted, and began the treacherous journey towards the much wanted flower, but he soon found himself in distress, for cumbered as he was by the weight of armor and weapons, he soon began to sink in the lake’s muddy bottom and could neither move forward nor back.

  The maiden’s scornful laughter broke the spell, revealing a hideous hag on a crumbling bridge and the Knight buried up to his chest in a stagnant slough. Mocked she to her would be benefactor, “what say you now, foolish Knight? Shall I leave you here to die of thirst or will you beg my aid?”

  Said he indignantly, “madam, I set out to aid you with a true heart, would you punish me even so?”

  She laughed horribly, “with a true heart I would, even so.” Her eyes turned towards the lake, whereon floated near a hundred swans and said, “you can join your brothers on the lake, awaiting one, if he ever comes, who would break the enchantment, else you can rot where you stand.”

  Said he in despair, “what will break the spell, witch?”

  She hissed in amusement, “only the blood of a willing man, shed upon the waters, will free the poor wretches and break my own power in turn, but what is that to you? You are trapped and only by my assistance can you be freed! Even if you were willing to shed your own precious blood, you cannot reach the lake to free your fellows. You can join them or die miserably as you are. Well?”

  He sighed heavily, “I would willingly pay the price, hag, yet if it cannot be, this is no proper end for a Knight. Free me that I might be enslaved even so.”

  A slow smile touched her lips as she said, “I thought as much. Go then fool, join your fowl friends.” As she laughed, a light consumed the stricken Knight and upon its fading, a swan blinked foolishly in the moonlight, took one look at the hag, whistled in fear, and joined his fellows on the lake. She spoke in a fell tongue and the former vision returned of ancient bridge, fair maiden, and a treacherous river.

  Garret looked to his lady, “can we do nothing?”

  She shook her head, “the price is not ours to pay. It must be the blood of a mortal man...” She trailed off and stared at him with pleading eyes, “you wish to recant your decision?”

  He took her hands and said quietly, “these few days have been the most wonderful of my life. I regret nothing we have had together, but I cannot turn my back and leave these poor souls to remain in the witch’s thrall if there is something I can do to thwart it. Can it be done?”

  She dropped her gaze for a moment and then looked out over the swans in the mist and moonlight, before looking again into his eyes, “I have bidden you never kiss me and never given you the reason.” A slight, sad smile touched her lips as she said tremulously, “kiss me fully, willingly and you shall become a man once more, wound and all and so shall the price be met.”

  He took her chin in his hand and lifted her eyes again to his, “I cannot do it without your consent, my darling for you are the one that must live with my decision.”

  She tried to drop her gaze as tears came to her eyes, but she whispered, “how can I say no and live with you in your shame or in knowing I cherished my own happiness over the lives of these accursed creatures? Whether I say yes or not, our former joy has died this night even so. Let my remembrance be bittersweet rather than live life together and have it poisoned by regret. You must do it, my love.” The kiss that followed might have made many a fairy tale princess jealous.

  As they separated, he gasped and clutched at his chest as he lurched forward and floated on the water. As the wound bled anew, the red fluid mingled with the clear water and a great chorus went up from the afflicted birds. They took to the air, whistling in delight and glowing slightly silver as each felt impelled to wing its way home, and upon arrival, they found themselves human once more. The vision of bridge and maiden vanished as the hag let loose a strangled shriek. Instead, there remained a hideous frog that croaked horribly in the stagnant marsh that bordered that side of the lake.

  The hag had made a bargain when given power over the marsh and the swans and so had she agreed that if the curse were ever broken, such would be her fate. Now she must wait in turn some poor hero who might be willing to kiss such a frog though no princess would he find, but perhaps a humbled witch instead. She had seen the Undine, but had paid them little heed, after all it was not as if they could break her spell nor were they likely to if they could, as that race usually had little sympathy for mortal plight. The witch had little feared her spell ever being broken, for
the only easy access to the water was via her bridge and she could entrap any likely hero ere he could do something regrettable, as she had with her latest victim. But alas, she was terribly wrong. Thus was joy restored to many while the witch and Erinea were bereft of it.

  The poor water maiden watched in wonder as the birds took to the air and the hag was reduced to amphibious obscurity, but suddenly realized her own dreadful loss and reached out desperately to take hold of all that remained of her happiness. She caught Garret’s foot and drew his unmoving form into her arms, but the cold, lifeless form did not return her embrace. She would have committed his mortal remains forever to the bottom of that quiet lake but a sudden, beckoning voice carried on the wind and she knew she could not linger. She dove beneath the surface, still clutching her beloved and vanished from the lake, only to surface again in the little brook beside which they had vowed eternal devotion to one another.

  The hermit was in desperate need of the pair and had done as Garret had once advised him. Erinea quickly discovered his crisis and her heart trembled within her, for her irate father stood over the uneasy man. Erinea quit the brook and laid her dead upon the bank, hastening to the poor man’s side, her eyes blazing angrily as she looked upon her father. The elder Undine snarled, “Erinea! What have you done? I was going to teach this wretch a lesson for his temerity in involving himself in things above his concern, but he pleaded ignorance and begged that I allow you and your supposed husband to be summoned in his defense. So what have you to say on the matter?”

  She stared stonily at her father and said coldly, “do not harm this poor man, for he did nothing to deserve punishment or chagrin but acted with all honor and compassion. If someone must bear the brunt of your wrath, let it be me alone. As for my ‘so called husband,’ he lies dead by the brook, having offered willingly his life to free a hundred souls from enchantment.”

  Her father seemed to relax at her words, for no permanent harm had been done, but she had not finished, “I cannot endure endless life without my beloved, instead, I shall follow him into mortality and eventually into death. One mortal lifetime shall be enough for me to endure my grief and then I shall see what lingers beyond the confines of this world.”

  Her father stared at her, “this is madness! Worse even than saving a mortal’s life and taking him as husband! Do not do this! Have you no compassion?”

  She smiled sadly, “yes, perhaps too much, at least to your thinking. I shall spend it on some needful, mortal cause and thus spend my days in content. Farewell father, I am sorry to cause you grief if such is the case but rather I think mortification is more the cause of your disquiet. If it gives you comfort, forget that you ever had such a child.”

  She turned and left the astonished pair and knelt beside Garret. The fear in the hermit’s eyes had been replaced by a twinkle of anticipation while her father was frozen in horror. She kissed the cold, inert lips and immediately warmth and life flooded back into what she thought had been a corpse. The old hermit let out a joyous whoop while her father went to his knees in amazement. The hermit had seen the boy’s chest fluttering slowly as the dying boy fought for every breath, but the others had missed it during their intense confrontation.

  Garret stared up into the eyes of his beloved and smiled, “what happens if I kiss you again?”

  Her face was aglow with delight as she murmured, “a pity we will never know.” They embraced, as two people might who have just survived some catastrophic adventure together, and then gained their feet. Erinea whispered in joy, “I thought you were dead!”

  Garret nodded, “as did I, but apparently only blood, not a man’s life, was required of him.” He smiled, “and you have again restored me to life!” Only then did he notice that they were not alone and that he liked very little the look upon the stranger’s face.

  Erinea said weakly, “Garret, this is my father.” Garret awkwardly made the proper courtesies, at least as they were practiced among men, but the elder Undine just stared stonily at him.

  Finally he growled, “it seems my daughter has a fondness for you, mortal that you are.” He took a resigned breath and said, “but I suppose she must be allowed to do as she pleases, as is every other adult member of our race, but do not suppose any of us will ever consider you a true Undine. Your schemes to become immortal will avail you nothing! We will never accept you among us, yet you shall outlive all you once loved among mortal men. It would be far wiser for you to live out your appointed days and leave us to ourselves, but you will both do as it pleases you.” He dove into the brook and vanished from sight.

  The hermit stared after him in wonder and then turned to the pair with a knowing twinkle in his eyes, “I knew there was something uncanny about you lady; I had my suspicions but knew nothing for certain. Whatever he said about not being welcomed anywhere, know that you are both always welcome here, such as it is.” They bowed courteously to him and then exchanged a joyous smile, knowing they had at least one friend in the wide world.

  Garret sighed heavily as he again faced his beloved, “we have laid your family scandals to rest, now I must face my own.”

  She smiled eagerly and he looked at her askance, “you look forward to what is to come?” She laughed like a tinkling brook, “I dreaded my father’s reaction above all things, but that is over and you are still at my side, what more have I to fear or dread? You forget my love, that your villainous relations can do little to thwart you, however you choose to act.”

  His own smile returned and an eager light burned in his eyes, “I forget that I am a helpless boy no longer and any adventure must be pleasant with such a companion! Let us away, ere my brother causes more mischief.” They bowed to the flummoxed hermit and vanished once more into the ever-laughing brook. He shook his head in bewildered amusement, wondering what quest the strange pair was off to this time; he hoped they would return and tell him all the tale.

  They surfaced in a small pond just within the borders of the forest, not far from the great castle that had once been Garret’s home. Said he, wistfully gazing at the distant structure, “to think it is my home no longer.” He felt a comforting hand upon his shoulder and he turned to gaze into the eyes that meant more to him than beloved memory. She returned his smile, as he finished, “but now my home is gladly wherever you are.” He frowned, “a pity we must return afoot.”

  She laughed and turned towards the pond, barely touching the surface with one finger, and drew back well pleased as a pair of richly saddled horses lunged out of the water. He stared at the horses and then at his beloved, a slow smile growing on his lips as he realized the creatures were merely a watery enchantment rather than flesh and blood, but they would suffice. They mounted up and galloped joyously towards the castle, eager to expose the murderous ambitions of the King’s youngest son.

  The advent of the late Prince into the castle proper caused immediate silence as the amazed onlookers thought they looked upon a ghost, but suddenly they erupted in joy as they realized he was no phantasm but their own beloved Prince. They were even more eager to know who the bewitching lady was that accompanied his unanticipated return. The guards had been out searching for the lad for several days but had found only the blood-soaked ground and no other clue as to what had come of him or his companions. His parents and younger brother were immediately informed, with the former rushing joyously into the courtyard to greet their missing son while the latter muttered darkly under his breath but hastened after his parents to see the truth for himself. He was astonished to see his brother not only alive, but accompanied by a stunning young woman; if he ever got his hands on those treacherous servants they would rue that they had ever been born.

  Garret exchanged joyous greetings with his parents and gave his brother an all too knowing look that promised more than foul words to come. An unwelcome chill of dread ran down Gyle’s spine and for a moment he knew fear, but he savagely buried the sensation and beg
an plotting how to rectify this dangerous situation. They went in to supper and great was the joy therein, for all save Gyle. After the evening meal, Garret pled exhaustion and begged to be excused, but his lady offered to keep company with the King and Queen as late as they might desire. The brothers exchanged a knowing look and retreated to a private garden. Garret had given only the vaguest explanation as to where he had been and what had come of him, but in their joy at his return, his parents had little noticed this, but it ate like a canker at Gyle’s furious heart.

  They withdrew together to their favorite childhood haunt and once the only door was locked behind them, they stared silently at one another but they needed no words. Gyle was unrepentant in what he had done, his ill-contained fury yet smoldered just below the surface, ready to ignite if his self-control wavered even minutely. Garret felt another pang of anguish, knowing he had lost his brother utterly and that for the sake of the Kingdom, he must face justice. If he were even a little sorry for what he had attempted there might be hope, but he was only upset because his treachery had apparently failed, not because he had tried to have his brother killed.

  “You wish to try again?” said Garret sadly.

  Gyle snarled tersely, “of course!”

  Garret shook his head, “I would not advise it.”

  Gyle smiled mirthlessly, “and how do you propose to stop me?”

  Garret smiled coldly, “that you will discover should you try, but it is ill-advised. You would be better served to confess what you have done and seek the King’s mercy.”

  Gyle mocked, “of course, why did I not think of that?”

  Garret said grimly, “justice will be served but I will allow you this chance to choose how.”

  Gyle scoffed, “your graciousness astounds me, oh most magnanimous of brothers.”

  Garret said quietly, “if you will not go to the King, you may ride off on some valiant quest, never to return, else I will be forced to deal with you myself.” Gyle’s only reply was to laugh uncontrollably for the next three minutes. Garret said stonily once his brother’s guffaws had ceased, “I take it you refuse to act as you ought?”

  Gyle wiped away a tear and said with only a trace of mirth, “of course I refuse! Take your revenge if you must!” He collapsed again into convulsing laughter and Garret was left standing in silent consternation, wondering how best to manage this grim situation.

  Gyle gained control of himself once more, and as he gained his feet, a malicious smile touched his lips as vengeance sparkled in his eyes. He drew a dagger from a hidden sheath and leapt upon his insolent brother, stabbing him countless times in the back and chest, but Garret only shook his head sadly as the vicious boy struck futilely again and again. Finally, Gyle realized his attack had no effect whatsoever upon his brother and dropped the knife in dread, a look of terror filling his eyes. “I warned you,” said Garret grimly as he grasped his brother’s cold, trembling hand; they melted together into a puddle, leaving the garden silent and empty with only the moon looking on. They surfaced in that quite eventful brook that chattered ceaselessly near the old hermit’s cottage. Garret left his brother gasping and quivering on the bank and dashed to the crumbling shanty, where he knocked vigorously upon the door. The hermit emerged, yawning and rubbing his eyes, not surprised at such a guest at such an hour. His eyes grew wide as he glimpsed a figure by the creek, just starting to sit up and glance around in terror.

  Said the hermit, “what can I do for you lad?”

  Garret shook his head, “I need an objective judge in a case of attempted fratricide.” They returned to the trembling figure and Garret told the full tale to the astonished Sage while Gyle glowered in silence.

  Finally the hermit asked of the terrified boy, “is it true?”

  Snarled he, “of course, fool! Now finish it!”

  The Sage shook his head, “what is to be done with him?”

  Garret said grimly, “I had hoped you would have some idea as to a proper fate.”

  “Enough!” snarled the irate boy, “neither of you cowards have the nerve! Neither will I let you have the satisfaction!” With that, he dove head first into the shallow brook, snapping his neck, and ending all dispute in the matter of what was to be done. Garret exchanged a startled look with the hermit, thanked him for his time, and once more took hold of his brother but this time bore him home. The next morning, the youngest Prince was found near the woods with his neck broken and his horse running loose nearby, apparently he had fallen while riding, which while grievous to his parents, was far less appalling than the idea that their son was a murderous traitor.

  After the sorrow had grown less acute, Garret said quietly to the King, “my lady and I wish to see something of the world. We will return now and then as dutiful children ought, but perhaps it would be best if the throne go to my sister, who has been visiting my aunt these past months.”

  The King stared at his son in amazement, but something told him argument on this point was futile; he drew his son into a great hug and wished him well upon his adventures. Garret said his farewells to his mother, took his lady’s hand, and they rode out of view before vanishing from that place for a very long time, but as he had promised, so did they return on occasion and upon his father’s death, the throne passed to his sister and her children after her. After the decease of his sister many years later, no longer did they visit his old home thereafter, for the world was full of wonders yet that they had not seen. The old hermit remained their dearest friend and frequently were they found haunting the familiar brook and humble cottage until the man ceased to tread mortal paths. After, no legend tells what came of Garret and his lady, but it can be assumed they lived, ‘happily ever after,’ despite the grim pronouncements of that lady’s father.

  When that which drew from out the boundless deep

  Turns again home.

  Twilight and evening bell,

  And after that the dark!

  And may there be no sadness of farewell,

  When I embark;

  For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place

  The flood may bear me far,

  I hope to see my Pilot face to face

  When I have crost the bar.