Two Candles
A Sapphic Fairy Tale
Once upon a time, in the north, where the rolling plains begin to rise into the mountains, there was a girl with hair as black as coal, and eyes as bright as diamonds, and she was called Brilliante. Her father was a merchant in the town, and her hand was promised in marriage to Georges, the brewer’s son.
Now Georges was handsome and rich and pleasant enough, but whenever Brilliante looked at him, her heart was leaden, and when, on the occasions that he walked out with her, he happened to kiss her, her mouth was filled with the taste of ashes.
So it came to pass that, on the morning of her long-anticipated wedding, Brilliante walked out of her parents’ house dressed in the crimson gown traditional for brides in that region, and passed north along the great river that flowed out of the heart of the mountains.
At first she had intended merely to clear her head on the way to the church. Yet as morning gave way to afternoon, she was still walking north, past the last farms and into the wild countryside of the mountain foothills.
She came to a place where the river blocked her path, and white water frothed around black rocks, and for the first time she considered turning around, for she had heard of this place, as had any child of her town. It was said to be inhabited by the Lorelei,
ondines
, who would lure men to their deaths in the swirling water–and there they where, white haired and fey beneath the water, singing for her to cross to them. At first she was terrified, thinking they meant to destroy her, but she could not ignore their song. Yet when she stepped out into the flood, she found that she was not borne under the waves, but rather walked across as if the river had frozen solid.
When she had crossed to the far shore, she turned around to see five white arms waving in farewell before disappearing into the foam.
Now she was in the great birch forest that blanketed the land above the river. Before she had time to wonder where she should go from here, bright copper hair flashed at the edge of her vision, and she thought she saw another white arm beckoning her even deeper into the wood.
Now, Brilliante was a well-read and intelligent young woman, and knew that following nymphs into the forest was courting trouble, yet she could not help but accept the invitation. Deeper and deeper into the wood she wandered, and every time she thought she was lost and forsaken, red hair would flicker and a white hand summon her further on. Whether it was a single mortal woman or a host of dryads, Brilliante could not tell, but she could no more ignore them than she had the river maidens.
Soon, the forest became wrapped in dusk, and Brilliante was no longer sure that she could distinguish the white arms from the bark of the trees, or red hair from the gold and crimson of the autumnal leaves. For the first time, fear truly gripped her.
Just as the night was truly about to set, Brilliante stumbled into a small farm. There was a tiny barn, a yard with several chickens, and a snug cottage with smoke curling deliciously from the chimney. Two candles burned in one of the windows — one bright red and one stark white. She went to knock on the door as the first stars twinkled overhead, but was surprised when, even after several minutes of knocking, no answer came from inside the house. The only response was a whiney from a startling white horse that had suddenly appeared outside the house.
Brilliante was growing cold there in the mountain night air, and she had not eaten all day–she had been too nervous to break her fast that morning. From inside the house she could smell fresh baked bread, rich stew, and the sharp scent of a pine fire on the hearth. She will be forgiven if, after some minutes of knocking and calling, she found she could wait no longer, and entered the cottage.
The sight inside made her breath catch. It was a lovely home, with merry fire with dinner bubbling in a heavy cauldron, a
A Sapphic Fairy Tale
Once upon a time, in the north, where the rolling plains begin to rise into the mountains, there was a girl with hair as black as coal, and eyes as bright as diamonds, and she was called Brilliante. Her father was a merchant in the town, and her hand was promised in marriage to Georges, the brewer’s son.
Now Georges was handsome and rich and pleasant enough, but whenever Brilliante looked at him, her heart was leaden, and when, on the occasions that he walked out with her, he happened to kiss her, her mouth was filled with the taste of ashes.
So it came to pass that, on the morning of her long-anticipated wedding, Brilliante walked out of her parents’ house dressed in the crimson gown traditional for brides in that region, and passed north along the great river that flowed out of the heart of the mountains.
At first she had intended merely to clear her head on the way to the church. Yet as morning gave way to afternoon, she was still walking north, past the last farms and into the wild countryside of the mountain foothills.
She came to a place where the river blocked her path, and white water frothed around black rocks, and for the first time she considered turning around, for she had heard of this place, as had any child of her town. It was said to be inhabited by the Lorelei,
ondines
, who would lure men to their deaths in the swirling water–and there they where, white haired and fey beneath the water, singing for her to cross to them. At first she was terrified, thinking they meant to destroy her, but she could not ignore their song. Yet when she stepped out into the flood, she found that she was not borne under the waves, but rather walked across as if the river had frozen solid.
When she had crossed to the far shore, she turned around to see five white arms waving in farewell before disappearing into the foam.
Now she was in the great birch forest that blanketed the land above the river. Before she had time to wonder where she should go from here, bright copper hair flashed at the edge of her vision, and she thought she saw another white arm beckoning her even deeper into the wood.
Now, Brilliante was a well-read and intelligent young woman, and knew that following nymphs into the forest was courting trouble, yet she could not help but accept the invitation. Deeper and deeper into the wood she wandered, and every time she thought she was lost and forsaken, red hair would flicker and a white hand summon her further on. Whether it was a single mortal woman or a host of dryads, Brilliante could not tell, but she could no more ignore them than she had the river maidens.
Soon, the forest became wrapped in dusk, and Brilliante was no longer sure that she could distinguish the white arms from the bark of the trees, or red hair from the gold and crimson of the autumnal leaves. For the first time, fear truly gripped her.
Just as the night was truly about to set, Brilliante stumbled into a small farm. There was a tiny barn, a yard with several chickens, and a snug cottage with smoke curling deliciously from the chimney. Two candles burned in one of the windows — one bright red and one stark white. She went to knock on the door as the first stars twinkled overhead, but was surprised when, even after several minutes of knocking, no answer came from inside the house. The only response was a whiney from a startling white horse that had suddenly appeared outside the house.
Brilliante was growing cold there in the mountain night air, and she had not eaten all day–she had been too nervous to break her fast that morning. From inside the house she could smell fresh baked bread, rich stew, and the sharp scent of a pine fire on the hearth. She will be forgiven if, after some minutes of knocking and calling, she found she could wait no longer, and entered the cottage.
The sight inside made her breath catch. It was a lovely home, with merry fire with dinner bubbling in a heavy cauldron, a
Similar Books
