The Goose Girl (a faerie tale)

[Marksman45]

<b>The Goose Girl</b>
<i>Adapted from “The Goose Girl” from</i> Grimm’s Fairy Tales.

There was once a king who ruled over a small kingdom. He took for his wife a beautiful woman from a nearby lordless land. The queen was said to be so beautiful that many people believed her to be an enchantress, or that she had elfblood in her. And perhaps she did. They were said to be very happy together and had one child, a daughter as lovely as the woman who gave birth to her.

Shortly after the birth of his daughter, the king was called away to war by an allied country. The king wished dearly to be able to stay with his daughter, but knew that he must live up to his promises to his ally, especially because his small kingdom depended on commerce and protection from his ally.

During the war, the king was wounded by a bullet in his side. Though not a mortal wound, it became infected, and the king died of fever on the way home to his kingdom. His queen, however, was strong, and took up the rule of their country herself, and never remarried. It is also said that she shed not a single tear, nor bemoaned her sorrows before any living ear.

When the princess was seventeen, a telegram was received from a neighbouring kingdom. The young prince of this land had heard of the beautiful princess, and wished to have her as his bride. The prince’s father was very wealthy, and also known as a fair and just ruler, and the queen knew that such a union would be advantageous to her tiny, struggling kingdom, and so decided to send her daughter to the prince. The princess, though yet young, also recognised the importance of this opportunity, and agreed willingly.

The queen assembled a collection of costly vessels of silver and gold, and trinkets of precious metals and stones, and gold cups, and other such items as would befit a royal dowry. She ordered to be sent with her daughter a young maid-in-waiting, and a horse for each of them, and a sturdy mule to carry the dowry and food for the journey. The horse for the princess was one called Falada, who had been the son of the queen’s own steed, and was known to be fine and clever horse; indeed, it is even said that Falada was able to speak when so inclined.

On the night before the departure, the queen took a handkerchief, and pricked her finger with a small knife, and held it over the handkerchief, letting three droplets of blood fall thereupon.

The morning came and, after a fine breakfast, it was time for the princess to embark towards her betrothed. The princess mounted Falada, and the queen stood beside, took her daughter’s hand, and said, “Promise me you will never shed your tears nor bemoan your sorrows and wants before a living being; for when you do so, you make yourself available to death and your enemies. Should you sorrow or want, bear it silently, or give command or action to fulfill yourself; do not bemoan your state.”

The princess promised, and the queen pressed the handkerchief dotted three times with her own blood into her daughter’s hand, saying, “Take this and keep it with you. It is a bit of magic to keep you safe.”

And the princess took the handkerchief, and tucked it into her bosom, and kissed her mother, saying, “Good-bye.” The maid rode up beside the princess, and they departed toward their destination.

Now, it should be noted that, unbeknownst to both the queen and the princess, there was more to the maid than met the eye. It is said that she was an ambitious witch, or a malicious elf in disguise; whatever she was, she was cunning, ruthless, and familiar with the ways of magic.

Later that day, it came that they traveled through a desolate, treeless plain. The sun was shining brightly, and not a single cloud could be found in the sky. Some say that the deceitful maid banished the clouds by magic. Whatever the cause, the effect was that it became quite hot, and the princess became quite thirsty. Without thinking, she said to herself aloud, “My, but I have grown so hot and thirsty. How I would fain have a drink.”

It was but an idle thought, idly spoken aloud, but the maid was ruthless and cunning, and she seized upon this moment, and began a spell of power over the princess.

When at last they came to a river, the princess said, “Maid, please dismount, taking one of those golden cups, and fetch me some water from this river.”
The maid replied, “If you desire drink, dismount and get it yourself. I do not choose to be your servant.”

The princess had no choice but to comply, nor did she find the maid’s response odd, for the spell had already begun to take hold. She dismounted and took a cup and scooped up some water. However, when she pressed the cup to her lips to drink, she found that she could draw no water from the cup. She tried again and again, and grew quite frustrated. “Must I kneel at the muddy bank and drink like a horse? Ah, heavens!” she thought, and nearly broke into tears at the prospect, but then the droplets of blood spoke to her, saying, “If your mother but knew of this, it would surely break her heart,” and the princess was reminded of her mother, and the vow she had made.

The princess then noticed that the maid had been watching. The maid turned her head aside quickly. Deciding to eschew drink and maintain her dignity, the princess stood tall, replaced the cup, and mounted her horse, and they resumed their journey.

However, as the noon sun approached, they still had not reached shade, and clouds still had not appeared. Again not thinking, the princess said aloud, “My, but the heat has grown worse! I sweat and my throat grows dry as the ground!”

Another idle thought, idly spoken aloud, and surely enough the vigilant maid again seized the moment and strengthened her spell.

When they came to another river, the princess again commanded the maid to fetch her a cup of water. But the maid replied more haughtily than before, “Ha! If you desire water you will get it your damned self. I will not be your servant.”

And again the princess had no choice but to dismount, take the cup, and go to the river herself. Again, she found that she could draw no water from the cup. The maid was again watching, and this time said cruelly, “What is the matter, girl? Can you not figure out how to use a cup? How pitiful! Perhaps you would have better luck kneeling down and drinking like a horse!”

The princess was so hot and thirsty and altogether miserable that the maid’s sharp words sent her into tears. As she knelt down to drink from the river, the blood again spoke to her, “If your mother but knew of this, it would surely break her heart.”

However, the princess could not hear the words over her tears. As she drank, the handkerchief slipped out from her bosom into the river, perhaps helped along by the maid’s witchery, and was washed away by the current. With that last protection gone, the maid was free to make her spell over the princess complete. The princess forgot her mother, her betrothed, and even her own name.

When the princess began to mount her horse, the maid stopped her, saying, “Girl, that horse is far too fine for you. My old nag would be better suited to the likes of you.”
And the princess could do naught but agree and give over Falada.
“And while we’re at it,” the maid added, “Your clothes are far too fine for you. Give them here to me.”
And the princess could do naught but agree and don the maid’s plain grey garb, while the maid put on the princess’s silk finery.

And so they mounted and resumed the journey. But Falada whispered to the maid, saying, “Deceiver witch, this will not stand.”
“We will see about that, horse,” the maid replied.

When they reached their destination, the king and prince received them warmly. The prince, mistaking the maid for his betrothed princess, ran to help her from her horse and held her in his arms. The princess, in her drab attire, was mistaken for a maidservant.

As the king, prince, and maid began to enter the castle, the king looked back at the princess, who throughout this stood idle, and noticed, despite her clothing, that she was uncommonly beautiful for a handmaiden.

“Tell me,” the king said, “Who is that who accompanied you?”
“Oh,” the maid replied, “She is but a poor girl I met along the way and hired to assist me on my journey. Have her take the horses to the stable, then give her some work so that she might not stand idle.”
“Hmm… I suppose I could send her to assist the goose boy in tending the royal geese.”
“Yes, that sounds fitting. Oh, and could I ask for another favour?”
“Of course, of course. Name it and it shall be done.”
“Send for the knacker and have him cut off the head of the horse I rode on, for it vexed me greatly on my journey.” That should keep that damned beast quiet, she thought.
“It shall be done! Now, my daughter-to-be, you are doubtless tired after your travels. Let me lead you to your chambers.”

* * *

When the princess took the horses to the stables, she discovered that Falada was going to be slain. She realised, without knowing why (for she had forgotten her past in her conscious mind), that she must do something about it. There was a gateway in town that she would have to pass through every day during her work as goose girl, so she told the knacker to nail the horse’s head upon the gate. The knacker was a gentleman, and so conceded to the princess’s wishes.

Early in the morning, when she and the goose boy drove out their flock through that gate, she said unconsciously,
“Alas, Falada, hanging there!”
(for though she had forgotten herself, she was still her mother’s child, and had some degree of magic in her).
Then the head answered,
“Alas, princess, how ill you fare!
If this your tender mother knew,
Her heart would surely break in two.”

“Come now, wha’ was all tha’ about?” the goose boy asked, quite spooked.
“What are you talking about?”
“You was jus’ talkin’ t’that ‘ead ‘angin’ there, an’ it talked back!”
“I do not know what you’re talking about. What a silly boy you are.”

And they went further out of town, driving their geese into the country. They stopped in a meadow by a river, and the princess sat down and unbound her hair to comb it. The goose boy was entranced, for her hair was yellow as gold and at least twice as bright.

“Come now, lemme pluck out a few o’them hairs,” the goose boy said.
This vexed the princess greatly, for she did not want any of her hairs plucked out. And though she had forgotten herself, she was still her mother’s child, and had some degree of magic in her, so she said,
“Blow, blow, though gentle wind, I say,
Blow the goose boy’s little hat away,
And make him chase it here and there,
Until I have braided all my hair,
And bound it up again.”

And sure enough there came such a violent wind that it blew the goose boy’s hat right off his head and far across the meadow, and he ran after it. Every time he came near the hat, the wind picked up again and blew it further. When he finally retrieved it and came back to the spot where the princess sat, she had already finished combing her hair and putting it back up in braids, and he could not get any of it. He became angry, saying,
“Whaddya think you’re doin’, callin’ up the wind and blowin’ my ‘at away?”
“I’m afraid I do not know what you’re talking about,” the princess replied, “What a silly boy you are.”

For the next two days, the princess spoke with Falada’s head and called the wind to blow away the boy’s hat while she combed her hair. Finally the goose boy came to the king, saying, “Your majesty, I ain’t workin’ with that girl anymore! She’s a witch, I tell ya, and she’s vexin’ me the ‘ole day through!”
“A witch?” the king asked, “How do you mean?”
“Well, ev’ry mornin’ she talks to this ‘orse’s ‘ead ‘angin’ on the gate, an’ it talks back!”
“Indeed?” The king raised a questioning eyebrow.
“An’ then on the meadow, she summons up the wind an’ blows me ‘at ‘alfway ‘cross the county!”
“Bah! Away with your foolishness. I’ll wager she simply refused to give you a kiss! Hahaha.”
“Honest, your majesty! Come tomorrow, an’ see for yourself!”

And so the next day the king followed in secret to observe the goose girl. And, indeed, as they came through the gate, she said,
“Alas, Falada, hanging there!”
And the head replied,
“Alas, princess, how ill you fare!
If this your tender mother knew,
Her heart would surely break in two!”

So the king followed them further to the meadow, hiding behind some bushes, and the goose girl let down her hair, and said,
“Blow, blow, though gentle wind, I say,
Blow the goose boy’s little hat away,
And make him chase it here and there,
Until I have braided all my hair,
And bound it up again.”

And a blast of wind came and blew the goose boy’s hat far down the meadow.

As the goose girl continued to comb her hair, out of the corner of her eye she saw something in the river. It was a fine handkerchief, embroidered, and stained in three places with blood.

“My, what a fine handkerchief! Someone must have lost it,” she said, and fished it out of the river. As she began to wring the water out of it, she suddenly remembered herself, and realised her situation. She quickly became distraught, as her situation was unpleasant indeed. She was on the verge of tears when the blood spoke to her, saying “If your mother but knew of this, it would surely break her heart.”

Later that night, the king came to her quarters to speak to her.
“Today I witnessed you do some strange things,” the king said.
The princess was made nervous by this, but tried to keep her cool, replying, “Such as?”
“I saw a handkerchief speak to you, and I saw you summon the wind. But what interests me most is that I saw you speak to the horse’s head that hangs over the gate, which I could swear is the head of the very horse that the princess rode here upon, and it called you ‘princess.’ Can you explain this to me?”
“No, your majesty, I cannot; for I have sworn to never lament my sorrows to a living being, for if I do, I open myself to death and my enemies.”

The king pressed her to explain, but she would not relent. Finally, he said, “Very well. I will leave, and you can tell your sorrows to that iron stove over there.”

And he left, and she opened the stove, and related her sorrowful tale to it. Throughout this, the king stood on the roof, at the stovepipe, and listened.

* * *

The next day, the king held a banquet for his son and the impostor princess. At this meal, he began a conversation on justice, a topic for which he was known to foster a great love. They began discussing the appropriate punishments for those who wrong their fellow men and women.

“We have one prisoner waiting to be sentenced,” he said, “For which I am having a great deal of trouble think of an appropriate punishment. This young lady was the handmaiden to a beautiful woman betrothed to marry a man of great standing. Now, the two betrothed had never met, and so did not know what each other looked like. And here’s where it gets despicable: the handmaiden, ambitious, cruel, and jealous, took control over her lady by some sort of witchcraft, and assumed her place, so that she might be married instead.”
“Heavens!” The prince said, “Such a dastardly act! And such a miracle that she was caught at it!”
“Indeed my son. Now, my daughter-to-be, what would you say is a fair punishment for this deceitful witch?”
The impostor choked on her wine a bit. She knew how much the king valued justice, and did not want to look bad in his eyes lest he cancel the marriage, so she said, “My, for such a heinous act, she deserves no less than to, erm, be stripped naked, and placed into a barrel which is studded inside with rusty nails. And then two horses should be harnessed to the barrel, to drag her through the streets until she is dead.”
“Very well!” Said the king, “It shall be done!” And he sent for a page to bring the real princess into the room, and another to fetch Falada’s head on a platter.

“Well,” said the king, “Here we have two witnesses to the crime, and a fair punishment has been decided on. Indeed, what could be a more appropriate punishment than the one the criminal thought up herself?”

And so the impostor was apprehended by the guards, and put to death by the method she described. The true princess was married to the prince the next day, and both kingdoms prospered for many years to come.

[Marksman45]

the Grimm version of "The Goose Girl" can be found at http://www.4literature.net/Jacob_and_Wi ... oose_Girl/

(in two pages; there is a link in the bottom right corner leading to the second page)

[jimboloco]

you have no mercy

[Marksman45]

I don't?
Is that a good thing or a bad thing in this case?

I know I sometimes use words like "atrocity" a complimentary (like referring to the music of the band Mindless Self Indulgence) or seriously derisive (like referring to the music of the band Rascal Flats)

[jimboloco]

well it certainly makes for a good story!
a barrell with nails studding the inside of it is to what i am referring
altho i saaumed that you, as the author, was giving the kingly orders, however i can see that it was the king isself what had the heinous wench done away with in the most derisevly atrocious manner.

buy the ticket
take the ride!

well done fable
and merriment!

[Marksman45]

I took the death sentence straight from the original. It's a very common theme in Grimm's, the villain is tricked into naming their own gruesome death sentence. In fact, gruesomeness abounds through those stories

Thanks for reading, especially since (as I've just now realised) it's kinda long
I'm glad you enjoyed it!

[jimboloco]

i thought it was kind of grimm, man!especially for a faerie tale!