Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a king and a queen. Their reign was a peaceful one and their people were happy. Yet the king and queen were heavy of heart, for they were childless, and though they sponsored many orphanages and fostered many children, they dearly wished for a child of their own.
The queen, one day, decided to go walking in the nearby woods to clear her mind, for all the forests and woodlands of that kingdom were held by the crown. And so she walked, spending nearly the whole of the day beneath the shade of the trees, when she came across a little hut made of earth and stone.
How peculiar
, she thought to herself. Surely her loyal gamekeepers would have reported such a sight, for this hut looked as if it had existed for ages. Curiosity filled her spirit, and she walked up to the door, knocking briskly three times upon it.
"Come in!" A voice called from inside. The queen pushed the door open and stepped into the little hut.
Garlands of herbs and strange roots hung about the walls, and the heavy scent of strange spices lingered. A bubbling cauldron over a low flame, stacks of old books, and in the middle of it all, a wizened old woman who smiled pleasantly at the queen.
"Please sit down, dearie," the old woman said, "and tell me what ails you."
The queen knew herself to be in the presence of one of the cunning folk, and so she sat. The old woman offered her a bowl of incredibly odd-looking stew, which she politely declined. But it was nice to talk to someone, and so the queen unloaded her troubles.
"Ach," the old woman said, "I've seen it all before, dearie, so don't you worry about a thing. Here's what you must do: when you go home, take a large pot, the kind with two handles. Set it upside-down in your garden. The next morning, there will be two roses growing beneath the pot: one red, and one white. If you wish to have a son, eat the red rose. If you wish for a daughter, eat the white one."
The queen nodded bemusedly.
"But!" The old woman raised a finger in warning. "Do not eat both, for...unexpected things might happen, and I bear no responsibility for any of that, not on your life. Choose one, and only one. I promise you, dearie, you shall have your child."
This was all very strange, and the queen had her doubts, but the word of a wise old woman counted for much in these lands. So the queen bade her farewell, and when she returned to her palace she did as she was told.
In the morning, there were two roses, just as the woman had said.
The queen thought long and hard about her decision. "After all," she mused, "if I have a son, he may be felled in battle. And if I have a daughter, she may leave to marry into another nation's royal house. Either way, I shall someday lose my child."
Having considered the problem, the queen resolved at last to eat the red rose. But when it passed her lips, she realized with a sudden shock that it was the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted. Without considering the old woman's warning, she devoured the white rose as well.
The old woman was as good as her word. All of the kingdom's subjects rejoiced when it was announced that their queen was finally with child. Eventually, the queen announced that she was going into seclusion with her attendants and physician, and the people waited with bated breath.
When the palace announced the birth of a male heir, a golden jubilee was declared, and everyone from the high nobles to the lowest peasants drank to the health of the prince. What the royal family dared not publicize was that, in fact, the prince was not the queen's only child. A white serpent, with scales that shone in the light, had also been born, though it fled through an open window and was quickly gone. All present had breathed a sigh of relief, and were sworn to secrecy, for fear of marring the joy of that day.
The young prince grew hale and strong, his hair bright red, his features handsome. Eventually, he announced to the court that he wished to venture abroad, in search of adventure and, hopefully, a bride. This was agreed to by his parents, who gave him their blessing, and he soon set off, riding a palfrey from the royal stables.
Coming to the kingdom's western frontier, however, where the forests grew thick and wild, the prince halted. Blocking the road was a great white lindworm, a massive beast with shining scales. Its body moved with sinuous grace, and its claws promised violence.
"Turn back," the lindworm hissed, "before you endanger your life, little prince. And ask your parents what I mean when I say to you this:
a bride for me before a bride for thee
."
Frightened, and more than a little confused, the prince rode back, relating to his parents the king and queen all that had transpired. And they revealed in turn that the lindworm had truth to its saying, for it had been born before the prince and, thus, was entitled by longstanding tradition to marry before him. Summoning forth their council, they presented to them the predicament as it stood.
"A bride," the master-of-arms mused. "Why should we give in to this creature's demands? We should send guardsmen to drive it off, and clear the western frontier once and for all."
The king shot him a look. "The creature, as you say, is still my daughter. A princess of the blood royal cannot simply be driven off like a rude beast. It would set a bad precedent."
"But a bride?" Running his hands through his hair, the castle's seneschal raised his voice. "Obligated as we are, there is the obvious problem: we cannot send for one of our allies to lend a spare princess. It would ruin our relations if...if her royal highness the lindworm were to tear them apart!" And the council murmured in agreement, for there was certainly great risk in granting the lindworm's request.
"A volunteer." The king shook his head. "It will have to be a volunteer. May heaven have mercy upon our heads."
Eventually, a volunteer was found: a young member of the palace guard, who hailed from the sun-drenched Summer Isles.
She was of distant descent from that land's nobility, although her branch of the family had fallen upon some difficult times, and she herself was no more than a fisherman's daughter. The palace guard had allowed her an opportunity to leave her village and serve her queen. Her only request was for the royal family to take care of her kinfolk, should anything happen to her.
And so a messenger was sent to the western frontier, seeking the lindworm, while the fisherman's daughter was allowed some time alone.
I am about to die
. The thought raced frantically through her brain. Lindworms weren't known as particularly kind, caring spouses. But it was for the good of the kingdom. She did her best to keep that in mind.
When she could no longer distract herself, she fled to the nearby woods. A walk in the solitude of nature would calm her soul and renew her courage. She walked beneath the shadow of ancient trees, and eventually came across a little hut made of earth and stone.
Odd
, she thought, but she knocked upon the door, obeying some instinct.
"Come in!" A voice called from inside.
The fisherman's daughter went into the hut.
Inside, garlands of herbs and strange roots hung about the walls, and the heavy scent of strange spices lingered. A bubbling cauldron over a low flame, stacks of old books, and in the middle of it all, a wizened old woman who smiled pleasantly at the young woman.
"Please sit down, dearie," the old woman said, "and tell me what ails you."
Not expecting much, but hopeful nonetheless, the fisherman's daughter told the whole story, that of the princess lindworm and the upcoming marriage.
"A lindworm?" The old woman stroked her chin. "Why, whoever could have foreseen such tragedy? Or warned against it? No matter. There is still a way out of this for you, dear child. Listen to me carefully, for this is what you must do..."
