Jeremiah Press

Singing Wind

In beauty be it finished.

                                   -Navajo proverb

Long ago,  there was a girl named Singing Wind, whose hair was the longest and blackest of all the girls in the village, and whose face was more beautiful than any of the others as well.  Her people lived in a village on the Ikahiri Plain, and moved about from year to year to plant their crops in fresh soil.  It was a good life, and Singing Wind was the happiest of them all.

But it happens at times that too much fame and beauty can lead to difficulties, and so it was with Singing Wind.

There was in those days a certain Witch named Alitha who lived alone in a hut in the woods, and in time the tale of the beauty of Singing Wind came to her ears.  She was at once filled with a jealous rage, for although she was very ugly, she fancied herself the most beautiful lady in all the Plain.  No one had ever dared to tell her otherwise, for she was much too powerful and dangerous for that.

She was able, when she chose, to transform herself into a hideous monster that no one dared to fight.  Alitha could become a dead skull with glowing eyes that rolled about and spewed forth coals and flame to burn anything that came near her to ashes.

And so it was that Alitha walked into the village one day, and demanded to be taken to the headman’s house.  The people dared not refuse, for they knew who she was.  The Witch and the fear of her had gone wide throughout the lands.

When she came to the headman’s house, Alitha got right to the point.

“Headman, I know you have a girl in your village by the name of Singing Wind, said by some to be beautiful.  You will bring her here immediately, and she will come to live with me, and then you and your people must depart from this place immediately and go to live far away,” the Witch commanded him.  The headman was considered brave, and his warriors also, but none of them dared to say no to the Witch, for they knew she could lay waste to the entire village and reduce them all to ashes if she chose.

Therefore the headman sent for Singing Wind, and told her what must be, that she should go to live with the Witch.  Singing Wind wept and tore her clothes, but there was no help, for she saw that the headman would not resist the evil one.  Therefore she calmed herself, and arose from her seat, and spoke to the headman calmly.

“Sir, if I’m to go with the Witch, there are three things I’ll have to take with me,” she told him.

“You can’t take any weapons, nor anything valuable,” the headman warned her.  Singing Wind agreed to this, and fetched a small bundle from a shelf in the house.  Then she went with the headman to the front of his hut.

When the Witch saw the beauty of Singing Wind, she was amazed, but her heart was filled all the more with hatred and spite.  She opened the bundle that Singing Wind had brought, but it contained only a plum twig, a small bottle of water, and a mussel shell.  The Witch cared nothing for these things and allowed her to keep them.  Then she took the girl to her own hut, after remaining long enough to make certain that the people of the village had fled far away.

And so Singing Wind was left alone with her tormentor.  For the Witch was very hateful, and heaped all manner of cruelties upon Singing Wind whenever she could.  She would frequently stab her with sharp thorns when she passed close by, or force her to rake up hot coals with her bare hands so that her skin was burned and blackened.  She refused to allow her to ever wash her hair or to bathe in the stream close by, or to make new clothes for herself.  In the fall when the hut was invaded by hideous black roaches, Alitha forced her to eat them.  In this way the Witch hoped to destroy Singing Wind’s beauty and turn her into a bitter and fearful slave.  Alitha threatened her that if she ever tried to escape, that she would hunt her down and burn her to ashes, along with anyone who dared to help her.

Singing Wind pretended to be terrified of the Witch, and in truth she did fear her, but she had courage, and refused to give up the idea of escaping and returning to her people.  And although she was forced to live in filth and cruelty, she was just as beautiful as she had always been, for true beauty shines from the heart, like a fire that can never be put out.

Now it happened by and by that the Witch had business of her own to attend to in other parts, and she wished to go off on her own for a time.  However, she was gripped by the fear that Singing Wind might take this chance to try to escape her, and she was determined that this should not happen.

Therefore the Witch announced her intention to leave, and again threatened Singing Wind with horrible consequences if  she dared set foot beyond the vicinity of the hut.  Then the Witch pretended to depart, but in fact she went only a short distance from the hut and hid herself behind a tree to see what her prisoner would do.

Singing Wind was no fool, and she continued to do her work about the yard and the hut, without so much as a glance towards the deep woods where she might try to escape.  After a time, the Witch was satisfied that Singing Wind would not dare to leave the hut, and she departed to take care of her other business.

Singing Wind waited for a time, until she was certain that the Witch was far away, and then she acted quickly.  She gathered her bundle of possessions, and departed from the Witch’s hut immediately.

She was not so foolish as to think she would be able to escape from the Witch without help, and so she headed at once for the den of a certain Bear who lived not far away and who might be able to protect her.

It was not long before Singing Wind approached the home of the Bear, and as she came to his den she called aloud to him.

“Oh, great Bear, I’m in terrible trouble, for a powerful monster is after me, and there’s no one who can help me but you,” she cried.  And the Bear heard her plea, and lumbered out slowly to meet her.  He looked upon her beauty, and he was inclined in his heart to help her.  Therefore he said,

“Tell me then, lass. . . what’s this monster you fear?  I’ll crush it with one flick of my little claw,” he boasted, and held up his paw.  And Singing Wind was glad, for she thought the Bear would save her.

“Great Bear, I’m being chased by the evil Witch Alitha, and if you hadn’t helped me then I would have been lost,” she thanked him.  But the Bear was startled when he heard that name, and a new attitude came over his face.

“Ah, no!  Not the Witch!  For she will set fire to my fur and burn me to ashes, and you along with me!  Great though I am, I dare not fight against the Witch.  But go to the Mountain Lion, and perhaps he may be able to help you.  Now go!” the Bear ordered her, his eyes bulging in terror.  And he turned tail and hid himself deep in his den.

Singing Wind hid her fear, and would not give up.  She wasted no time on the Bear anymore, but set out at once for the cave of the Mountain Lion, in the hope that he might be more brave.

In the meantime the Witch had returned from her trip sooner than Singing Wind had thought, and she flew into a rage when she found the girl gone.  She muttered her curses and took her skull shape, and her wicked red eyes glowed fiercely with hate.  She suspected the Bear at once, and set off to see him, for she was determined that the girl should not escape.

She came to the den of the Bear before long, for she could roll very swiftly when she needed to.

“Have you seen a young girl pass this way, old Bear?  Tell me at once, or I’ll burn you to ashes, you filthy old flat-foot,” she demanded.  And the Bear stuck the tip of his nose from his cave, and in a voice that trembled he answered her back.

“Yes, I’ve seen her.  She asked me for help, but I gave none.  She headed that way, toward the cave of the Lion,” he told her in fear, pointing his paw toward the west.

“Hah,” the Witch grumbled, and paid no more mind, rolling off quickly.

So fast did she roll, it was not very long till she saw Singing Wind just ahead, and she laughed to herself, spewing coals all about.

Singing Wind heard the monster and said nothing else, but she reached into her bag and pulled out the plum twig.  She broke it in half, and threw the pieces down behind her.  At once there arose such a thick, tangled mass of thorny plum trees that she knew it would take the skull quite some time to burn its way through.  And in the meantime she came to the cave of the Mountain Lion.

She stopped, out of breath, and called to him quickly.  

“Great Lion, please help me!  A terrible  monster is hot on my heels, and no one can save me but you,” she cried out.  And the Mountain Lion blinked in the bright noonday sun, and Singing Wind’s beauty was such that he decided to help her.  Therefore he said,

“And what is this poor puny monster you fear?  Why, I could crush it with one flick of my little claw,” he told her, and held up his paw.  But Singing Wind hesitated, for she remembered the Bear.

“Great Lion, the Witch named Alitha is coming, and- ” she began, but the Cat cut her off.  A look of bright terror came over his face.

“The Witch will burn both of us right down to ashes!  There’s nothing I can do against a monster like that!  But go to the Snake, and perhaps he will help you.  I dare not.  Now go!” the Cat said, and fled into his cave.

Singing Wind was frightened, but she still kept on, for what else could she do except wait for the skull?

In the meantime the Witch had burned her way through the thicket, and came to the cave of the Mountain Lion.

“Milk licker!  Where has that ugly girl gone, for I know she came here to see you!” the Witch demanded.

And the Lion poked only his nose from his cave, and with trembling and terror he answered the Witch.

“She went that way, oh great one, to see the old Snake.  I gave her no help, I promise!” he cried.  The Witch said no more to the Cat, and rolled off, and before long she had almost caught up with her prey.

“Now I’ve got you!” she cried, coming close indeed.  But Singing Wind reached for her bundle, and pulled out the bottle of water inside.  She poured it all out on the path right behind her, and at once there arose a wide lake between them.  The lake was so wide, and so icy and deep, that she knew it would take quite some time to get around it.  That gave her time to get to the Snake.

Before too much longer, the girl reached a place where a deep hole was dug, and that, she thought, must be where the Snake lived.

“Great Snake, there’s no one to save me but you, for a monster is chasing me that no one can resist,” she cried.  And the Snake heard her cries, and slithered swiftly to meet her.  He hissed when he saw her, her beauty was so great, and he thought he would help her, if only for that. 

“So tell me, then. . . what is this poor little monster you fear?  I will crush it with one flick of my tail,” he boasted, and rattled his tine.  And Singing Wind was happy, for the Snake seemed sure.  But she thought of the Bear and the Cat, and she feared.

“Great Snake, the evil Witch Alitha has followed me here, and unless you destroy her I fear all is lost,” she told him. 

“Sss, no!” the Snake hissed, “Not the Witch!  She will roast me for supper and burn you to ashes!  You are lost!” the Snake told her, and dived underground.

Singing Wind was in terror now, for there was nowhere else to go, and before long the Witch would overtake her.  But she still kept on, for what else could she do?

Indeed, before long the old Witch rolled up close, laughing and spewing her burning hot coals.

And Singing Wind reached in her bag one more time, to take out the very last thing that she had, and that was the mussel shell, shiny and white.  She crushed the shell and threw it behind her, and at once the ground was covered with glittering diamonds, so many and so bright that the Witch could not count them.

She was sure of catching the girl at that point, so she stopped there awhile and took her own form.  She picked up the diamonds as fast as she could, but there were so many it took quite some time.  And then when she finally picked them all up, she found a little bag in the folds of her dress to put them inside, and the bag she hid in the hole of a tree, where it would be safe till she came back for it later.  Then at last she took form as a skull once again, and rolled off after the girl she hated.

Singing Wind at last had come to a river, and it blocked her way forward completely.  It was too wide to swim and too deep to wade, and at last she despaired of escaping.

But at the edge of the river she spied a tall boy, and not far down the bank was a solid wood hut.  She had nothing to lose, and no time to think, so she went to the handsome young man.

“Boy, there’s a monster that intends to destroy me, and none of the Beasts will help.  Can you hide me awhile, till the monster is gone?” she pleaded.    

And the boy saw her beauty, and he loved her at once, but he said nothing of that just yet.

“My name is Little Bear, and of course I will.  Go inside the hut and hide under the bed, and if the monster does come then I’ll kill it for you,” he promised.  Singing Wind didn’t believe him, but took his advice, hoping to flee back the way she had come.  The Witch might give up looking, sooner or later.

So she went in the hut and crawled under the bed, and there she waited for the skull to come.  Little Bear stayed by the river outside, calm as can be, with a red wooden club in his hand.

In time the skull came, hateful and ugly, her eyes glowing red as hot coals.  She saw the wide river and the tall young man, and Singing Wind nowhere in sight.

“Have you seen an ugly girl pass by, young man?  If you have, tell me quickly which way did she go?” the Witch threatened, spitting out a few sparks.

Little Bear shrugged his strong shoulders a bit, either not scared at all or hiding it well.

“The girl is inside, and she is my guest.  So turn tail and run, old Monster,” he told her.  The Witch was so shocked by this threat from the boy that at first she was speechless, but soon flew into a rage.

“Very well, then.  I’ll burn you both to ashes!” she screamed, and her eyes began to glow.

But before she could spew out her flaming hot coals, the boy raised the sacred red club high above her.  And then, with one leap and a terrible cry, he smashed down the club between her eyes.

The skull cracked and shattered into a thousand small pieces, then Little Bear told his guest to come see.

Singing Wind stared at the broken up skull, all that was left of the terrible Witch, and then she looked back at the boy who had killed her.

“But how?” she asked wonderingly, touching a piece.  She wondered, at first, if he was even truly human.  For what normal man could have done such a thing?

“It was only a skull after all, you know.  If you hit hard enough, it will break,” he replied.

“But the Beasts were in terror, and my people as well,” she insisted, still not quite believing it.  Little Bear shrugged his shoulders.

“Ah, so was I, but I love you, you see, and how else was I ever to save you, if I lacked the courage to try?” he asked.

“You might have been killed, and us both burned to ashes,” she said, but her heart was full.

“Maybe so, but we weren’t, and I still love you dearly,” he told her, with a practical smile.  She laughed, for what else could she answer to that?  So she took him with joy, and their love was deep. 

Together they ground up the skull into powder, and burned it to ashes in a fire they built.  In the spring they set out from that place by the river, and soon found her people not far across the Plain.

The people rejoiced at the story they told, and the death of the Witch filled them all with awe.  The headman was shamed, for it was whispered among the huts that a boy and a girl had done what no leader ever dared.

In time all that people took Little Bear to lead them, and Singing Wind stood beside him in all that he did, and they lived many years in joy.

And in days long after, when they both slept with God, the people still remembered the tale of their deeds, till at last they are told here today.

Bran the Blessed

May the sun shine warm upon your face,

The rain fall soft upon your fields,

And until we meet again,

May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

                                     - Irish blessing

Long ago, in a land by the sea, there came into the world a boy named Brandon.  He was not so unusual to look at, and for a long time no one thought much about him one way or the other, except sometimes to remark how wonderfully well he got along with his sister.  

The sister’s name was Branwen, and these two loved each other very much, and they were never apart unless they had to be.   

Their father herded sheep on the green grassy hills, and Brandon and Branwen did likewise as soon as they were old enough.

In those days the land had been at war for many years, till the people had almost forgotten what peace was like, and their hearts were heavy and sorrowful.

Now Branwen grew in time to be the most beautiful girl in all the land, and the kindest and gentlest of heart.  And Brandon was beyond compare the bravest and strongest of all the young men. 

So beautiful was Branwen, and so noble was Brandon, that even the King of Eyre heard tell of them in his castle across the sea, and he decided to set aside the war between their two lands, to come and see them both for himself.

So it was that on a day in the bright spring, King Lucas of Eyre came sailing across the sparkling sea with the wind at his back, and he first set foot on the beaches of Cambria in the early morning, with ten thousand nobles and soldiers beside him.

The people were terrified when they  saw such an army encamped on the shore, and they hid themselves among the rocks of the mountains and dared not come out.

Of all the young men of Cambria that day, Brandon alone was not afraid, and he offered himself to walk down to the enemy’s camp and talk to them.  The others took courage when he said this, and so it was that three of them went with him to speak to King Lucas before noon.

But when they came within sight of the camp, the others lost heart and turned back, leaving Brandon to go on alone.  He did so, and soon he came to the edge of the camp, where a soldier on guard called out to him.

“Who goes there?” he called, for he’d seen no one all day.

“My name is Brandon, and I’ve come to ask the King of Eyre the reason for his visit today,” Brandon said to the man.  Then the soldier smiled.

“That I can tell you already, young man.  The King wished for only two things today, to speak to brave Brandon, and to see the sweet face of Branwen the Fair, for King Lucas has heard of them even in Eyre.  Come in, and be welcome!” the soldier exclaimed.  He sheathed his long sword and offered his hand, and Brandon allowed him to lead.

The camp was vast, a city of tents, and each one of them was full of the soldiers of Eyre.  But Brandon stood tall in the camp that day, and the men of Eyre loved him for his courage, and gave him great honor.  Before long he reached a tent of green and white silk where King Lucas sat on his great golden throne.  The King stood to meet him, and Brandon knelt at his feet.

Lucas looked in his eyes long and hard, and whatever he saw there must have given him much to think about, for he didn’t say a word to Brandon at all, and the silence was filled only with the sound of waves on the shore.  At long last the King smiled, and asked Brandon to stand.

“I’ve seen the noble Brandon, and that was well worthy of coming.  But now where is your sister, the beautiful Branwen?  For I wish to see her before I leave, as well,” he said.

“My sister has gone to the mountains to pray, and be safe from the battle we feared, Great King.  But I can fetch her very quickly, if it pleases you to wait,” Brandon offered, and the King smiled and nodded.

So Brandon departed from the camp for  a while, to look for his sister in the mountains.  He found her at last by the shores of Lake Miruvel, and their meeting was glad in the white morning mist.

“Where have you been, dear brother?” she cried, throwing her arms round his shoulders.  He was happy as well, but no smile touched his face, for he knew there were serious things to discuss.

“I’ve spoken with King Lucas of Eyre.  He tells me he wishes to see you, and for that reason he has crossed the sea with his men.  He says he’ll gladly return to his land, if only he can look on your beauty just once.  It might be so, dear sister.  But I fear he could change his mind when he sees you,”  he told her, and held her small hand. 

Branwen considered these things, and finally she smiled to comfort his fear.

“That may be, dear brother.  But in the meantime our land is in danger, and it might also be that this King is sincere.  I’ll go down and sing to him, and lull his heart, then maybe he’ll leave us in peace,” she said.

Then the two of them returned to the camp of King Lucas by the shore.  The men were struck speechless by the beauty of Branwen, for it was greater by far than they had ever imagined.  King Lucas too was amazed by the sight, and his tongue felt dry in his mouth when he spoke.

“I will never call anything lovely, nor ever see beauty on earth again, except in the face of Branwen,” he declared when he finally spoke.  She smiled at his words, and King Lucas loved her, forgetting everything  else in the fire of his heart.

“Come with me, young maiden, and I’ll make you a queen over all the land of Eyre beyond the whispering sea.  And I’ll never again make war on this land, the home of Branwen the beloved,” he cried.

Then Branwen accepted, and the camp rejoiced, that peace should have come out of unexpected love.

The people feasted for weeks till the wedding was done.  Then Branwen the Fair and Lucas the King embarked on his ship and departed for Eyre.  And Brandon was happy, but sad as well, for he loved his sister very dearly.

For almost a year the news was good, and Branwen could only speak well of King Lucas.  But then in the fall of the following year, no more letters came again across the bright wide sea.  And Brandon feared only the worst.

Branwen was happy in Eyre at first, but in time her joy faded, for the women in the castle were jealous.  None of them loved their new queen, not at all, and Lucas in time came to believe all their whispers.  He began to find fault with his queen in small things, and then before long in larger ones too.  At last all love had died in his heart, and he cast his wife into prison.

She found herself locked in a pig stye in rags, in the middle of winter forsaken and friendless.  The women came to laugh and spit on her face, and only the pigs in the stye kept her warm.  Her beauty was such that the King wouldn’t kill her, but he kept her in prison while months rolled by.

But Branwen was faithful, and never lost heart, and she prayed to God every night in the snow, that somehow her brother might hear of her pain.

Then one evening as Branwen prayed, God sent a dream to Brandon while he slept.  He saw his dear sister in rags in the mud, and then he heard her call out his name.  He woke up in fear and put on his sword and his traveling clothes, for the dream was so strong that it couldn’t be doubted.  He set out for the shore by the light of the moon, for he could never rest a minute till he knew his sister was safe.     

But no one would listen to Brandon’s wild tale, and they told him to hush before his words caused a war.  Not a single ship could he find that would carry him to Eyre, not for love nor money nor anything else.  Brandon could plead for as long as he wished, but the hearts of the sailors were harder than stone.

Therefore Brandon fell down on his knees in the sand, and he begged the dear Lord for help, and he cared not at all who might see him. 

Then God answered swiftly, and Brandon grew large.  He grew till his head touched the clouds in the sky, and his feet shook the earth when he walked.

Then he went down and waded the cold gray sea, and God laid a calm on the wind and the waves till at last he set foot on the beaches of Eyre, and shrunk down again to his own normal size. 

But the land was deserted when he reached the far shore, and he saw not a soul to help him.  For the people on the coast had seen him approaching, and in terror they hid from his sight.  Word spread like wildfire that  a giant was coming, who would crush every man in his path.  So no one was left to see Brandon shrink down, or to know that the giant and he were the same.

He wandered alone for a very long time, for the land was wild and the people unfriendly, and no one would tell him the way he should go.  But he never gave up, and his love never dimmed. 

Finally then on a day in late spring, when the west winds blew and the bright sun shone, Brandon found his way at last to the castle of Lucas, and there he demanded to see the King. 

The King was not pleased that Brandon had come, and pretended he was much too busy to talk.  But Brandon was patient, and wouldn’t go away, and he stood there for weeks by the gate.  The whole time he waited he prayed and sang hymns, and he told his whole story to anyone who would listen.  Then the people of Lucas loved him for his faithfulness, and they brought him hot food and warm clothes and fire.  And when he told them how God let him wade across the sea they looked at him in awe, and in Eyre he was first called the Blessed. 

The King heard these things, and his heart filled with hate, for Brandon had put him to shame.  So he decided to kill him in secret, and crush the young fool who would dare to embarrass him.

So King Lucas called for Branwen to be brought, and he clothed her in silks and velvet once more, and he spoke to her kindly and asked her forgiveness.  But none of these things did he truthfully mean, for his heart was black with anger.  Branwen doubted his words, but when she heard that her brother had come at long last, her joy was so great that she forgot about the past altogether. 

Then Lucas saw that his wife had forgiven him, and he knew that he owed it to Brandon.  And he hated them both all the more because of that.

Then the King declared a feast to honor Queen Branwen, and all the great nobles of Eyre were invited, and even those of Cambria beyond the wide sea.  For the King had a plan to be rid of Branwen forever, and her people as well if he could.

For a month he plotted in secret, and for all that time the King gave no hint.  He guarded his secret like a chest of pure gold, and only a few knew his scheme.

But on Midsummer’s Day the flags were unfurled, and the feast began.  On the third day the King judged the time was right, and he hid twenty soldiers behind curtains in the feast hall.  The signal for attack would be the death of the Queen, when a soldier would stab her from behind.  The King ordered his people that no one should disturb them or come into the feast hall, no matter what might be heard from inside.  For he hoped to blame the killing on the Cambrian nobles, and give himself a reason to make war on their land.

All this was done, and the King himself stabbed the Queen, for he hated her so much that he wanted the pleasure for his own.  When Branwen fell down on the cold stone floor, then the soldiers of Eyre jumped out and attacked. 

The battle was fierce and long in the feast hall, but the Cambrian men were more brave than the King thought.  At last no one was left except Brandon and Lucas.  The rest were all dead on the floor.  Then Brandon himself killed Lucas the King, and the feast hall was quiet and still.

Brandon went quickly to Branwen his sister, and he wept bitter tears, for he thought she was dead.  But then he saw her still breathing, and hope filled his heart.  He took care of her wound the best that he could, and then picked her up in his arms and carried her away.  For he knew that the scene of the battle would be found, and then it would be death for them both if they stayed. 

The people in the castle knew them both by sight, and no one dared stop them for fear of the King.  They soon reached the docks on the river nearby, and Brandon took his sister to the smallest boat he could find.  Then he fled from the land of King Lucas.

In three days they crossed to the Cambrian shore, and the people wept bitterly for the loss of their men, and they feared a new war would come quickly.  They laid all the blame on Brandon and Branwen, and some even said they should both be killed.  The mood in the town was so black at the time that Brandon knew it wasn’t safe to remain there. 

Therefore he and two friends took Branwen away, to a castle in the south by the shores of the sea where not many men lived.  The earl of that place was a healer of hurts, and no one knew where Brandon and Branwen had gone.  Therefore all the more did the townspeople curse them, as cowards who fled in the night.

But Brandon cared nothing for that, because Branwen lay close to death.  At times she would open her eyes and speak, but such times grew more rare as the days passed by, and he feared she couldn’t live for much longer.  Then he wept in his room, and no one could comfort him.

But Brandon remembered his prayer on the beach, and how God had answered when no one else would help.  So he prayed once again, and he begged that her life be spared, no matter what he might have to do to save her. 

Then he saw in a vision a land which was lovely and sweet, and he saw himself walking slowly through fields of gold flowers.  His hand plucked a fruit from a beautiful tree, and he saw himself give it to Branwen.  Then she was healed, and the vision was over.  But somehow he knew that that land was in the east.

Then Brandon arose, and he decided at once to search for that place, for he knew it was Branwen’s only hope.  He departed from the castle that very same day, and went down to the shore to find a ship.  

But the men of that village were afraid of wild lands and uncharted seas, and at first there was no one who would help him, just as before.   

At last an old man took pity, and he gave him a one-man boat barely large enough to be seaworthy.  Brandon loaded it up with food for a month, for he didn’t know how long he might be gone. 

Then he sailed out to sea in the evening dusk, and by morning he was far from all land.  For days and days he sailed to the east, alone on the ocean with little to guide him.  He followed the sun, and the stars at night, till his water and food ran low.  But he still went on with nothing to eat, for he knew what would happen to Branwen if he didn’t. 

At last he saw land not far in the distance, the first that he’d seen since leaving the castle.  Then he sailed for the shore, for he was starving and weak, and unless he found food very soon he was lost. 

The minute he stepped on the beach that evening there appeared a white hound who fell at his feet.  The dog barked and panted and  snuffled his toes, and at last Brandon laughed at its playfulness.  Then the dog jumped up and ran a short way, and looked back and waited while it wagged its long tail.

“Maybe this dog was sent here today to lead me some place I should go,” Brandon thought to himself.  So he followed the dog to an old wooden house, where he found a long table set full of good food.  There was no one to be seen, and no one came when he called.  Just the dog, who sat and watched him and licked its black lips. 

So Brandon ate and drank as much as he wished, and he was thankful indeed.  When he finished his food, the dog led him to a bed with the covers turned down, and there he slept until morning.            

As soon as the sky turned pale he ate once again from the table, but he took nothing with him from there.  The dog growled when he tried, and wouldn’t allow it.  So he returned to the ship, and the dog came with him, and together they followed the shore of this new land he had found. 

Green pastures and meadows stretched far out of sight, and grazing on the hills were herds of white sheep.  Each of those sheep was the size of a horse, and their wool was white as snow.  They looked up at Brandon and bleated and stamped as he passed, the most beautiful animals that he ever saw. 

At mid-afternoon he spied an old shepherd, who called to the ship and bid Brandon welcome.  His hair was as white as the wool of the sheep, and Brandon went ashore to speak to him.

“This is the Island of Sheep,” the man said, “and here it’s never cold but always summer.  So the sheep grow large and whiter than snow, because they eat the best grass that grows anywhere.”

And the old man gave him food and warm clothes to take with him, and water to last him for a trip of many days, for he said that the land would soon come to an end. 

So it did, and before long Brandon left the Island of Sheep behind him, and headed out again across the sea.  Near the end of the day he came to a place of sharp rocks and shallow water, and he was afraid if he went on then the ship might be wrecked in the dark.  But he saw a black rock that stood taller than most, and he anchored his ship beside it for the night.  He ate a cold supper of dried meat and goat cheese, and next morning set out once again. 

The sky was dark and cloudy when the sun rose, and Brandon had barely escaped from the sharp shallow rocks before a storm swept him up in its fury.  The wind and the waves were terrible to see, and he dared not sleep for a second.  It was three full days till he reached land again, so exhausted by then that he could barely hold the sail.  The ship ran aground on a sand bar in the dark, and the wind and the waves howled and swirled all around him. 

When the storm died away about noon the next day, then he gathered his strength to explore this new land and see what there was to see.  The first thing he found was two stone wells at the edge of the woods, with the grass clipped and neat all around them.  Out of one there flowed water so pure and so clear that Brandon had never seen the like of it.  From the other came a stream somewhat cloudy and dark.  He drank from the clear one, and it was icy cold in his mouth.  Then he looked at the sand bar with a frown.  The boat was aground, and he knew he was stranded, for one man alone lacked the strength to push it free.    

“But if I wait just a while then the Lord will provide,” he said to himself, and sat down on a rock to rest.  The snow-white dog came and licked his hand, and then it lay down beside him to wait. 

Before long a young man came to the well to fetch water, and he saw them both sitting there and took pity.  For Brandon was dirty and salty and exhausted, and his eyes were dull from not sleeping. 

The young man led him down a path to a monastery, which was hidden in the woods  nearby.  When they got there he was greeted by twenty-four monks, all of them clothed in scarlet and gold.  The abbot sat Brandon on a hard wooden bench, and washed his sore feet with warm water.  The monks washed the sea salt from his skin and his hair, and gave him clean clothes to put on.  Then they took him to a place full of tables and chairs, and they all had supper together.  Each monk at the table had a loaf of warm bread, and a bowl of white roots which tasted delicious, but Brandon didn’t know of what kind they might be.  They drank nothing but water from the first clear well.  Brandon had eaten nothing for days but dried meat and cheese, and the food he got now was wonderful, he thought.   

Brandon stayed with the monks for two or three days till he was rested and strong once again.  Then he knew it was time to move on, for he didn’t dare wait for too long.  The monks worked together to push the ship off the sand, and he thanked them very deeply before leaving.

Not long after that came a huge fish that followed him, spitting streams of salty water at the ship.  The water came so fast that Brandon nearly drowned, and he could barely keep the ship from sinking.  But the white-furred dog didn’t fear the huge fish, and he jumped in the sea with a snarl.  The dog and the fish fought viciously for a while, but at last the white dog tore the fish into pieces, and swam back to sit at Brandon’s side.

The next day they came to a region of darkness, where the air was full of foul smells and black smoke.  Brandon heard cruel horns blasting far off in the dark, but he couldn’t see  a thing past the front of the boat, not even in the middle of the day.  He was more afraid of this than of anything so far, but he knew in his heart there was no other way. 

He sailed for hours through the smothering darkness, and he could barely even breathe for the smoke and the fumes.  Then far in the distance he saw an island full of flames. 

When he passed close by then a demon rushed out, and he stared at Brandon with huge bulging eyes.  He turned toward the island and called to some others, the most horrible cry that could ever be imagined. 

Soon there came more demons who rushed across the sea, with sharp hooks and hammers of burning iron in their hands.  They ran on the water as if it were land, and it seemed like the whole sea was on fire.  The things roared and snarled and threw their weapons at the ship, and they sizzled and splashed in the sea all around. 

Brandon was in terror at first, and he covered his eyes from the hideous sight, but he soon found the demons couldn’t hurt him.  All they could do was threaten and roar, and their power came only through the terror they caused.  So Brandon took courage, and pretended they didn’t exist. 

When the demons discovered that he no longer feared them, they gave up the ghost and went home. 

Then Brandon sailed on for seven more days, and soon the darkness gave way to heavy fog mixed with sleet.  The fog was  so thick that he still couldn’t see, not even the sun in the sky, and at last he was hopelessly lost.  He couldn’t even be sure which direction was home.  All he could do was pray for God to lead him through, for he knew he could never find the way by himself. 

Then at last the gray fog finally lifted, and Brandon could see where he was once more.  The sea all around him was smooth and glassy as crystal, and not far to the east lay a silent shore.   

The earth of that land shined as bright as the sun, and the stones on the ground were of diamond and pearl.  Each meadow was full of gold flowers and trees, and all of the trees in that land bore fruit.  The breeze brought a scent of those meadows to his ship, and tears filled his eyes and his breath nearly stopped, for nothing more beautiful could there be.               

Then Brandon set foot on the bright shining beach, and before long there came to him a handsome young man, whose face shone with light.

“Be glad now, Brandon, for this is the land you’ve been searching for.  You stand on the edge of the Land of Eden, where Adam and Eve first lived, till they broke the commandment of God.  The fruit that you see  is ripe all year, and the light never ceases to shine.  Come in,” he invited.      

And Brandon smiled, and walked into Eden, and there the man left him alone.  Then he wandered for a while through the meadows and woods, but he never reached the end of that land.  Everything was lit in a changeless day, and it seemed to be always spring.  At the last he came to a clear flowing river, but he dared not cross over, for he felt in his heart it was forbidden.  Then the handsome young man came again.

“This river you see divides all things in two.  On the far side there grows on the highest hill the Tree of Life in eternal bloom, and no one can cross over while he is still alive.  Therefore take now a fruit from one of these other trees, and depart in peace, and sail once again to your home.”        

Then Brandon plucked a fruit from the tree that grew closest,  and he wept as he boarded his ship once again, for he knew he could never forget that place.  

He sailed to the west, and not very long afterward he reached the Cambrian shore, although he barely remembered the trip.  Then the people of the castle were glad, but confused, for they said he’d been gone just three days.  And Brandon could hardly believe it.  Then he told them the story of his journey on the sea, and all the wonderful things that he’d seen.

“I’ve walked in a land that shines like the sun, and stood by the river of Eden,” he told them, and no one could doubt it, for his clothes still smelled of that beautiful place.           

From that day onward, wherever he went, he was called Bran the Blessed by his people, the name he was given in Eyre.  For no other man walked so close with God as Brandon, whose feet had once stood in the meadows of Eden, and who had breathed for a while the clean air of that place. 

The fruit which he brought from that shining land he took to his sister in her bed.  And she smiled when she saw him, through the pain in her eyes.

“I knew you’d come,” she whispered.

“The way was long, but now eat and be well,” he told her.  Then Branwen ate the fruit from his hand, and the pain slowly vanished from her eyes.  She rose to her feet, whole and healthy again, and her beauty was no less than before, for sorrow and wisdom had deepened it.  Then she kissed her brother and held him tight, and together they left the old castle.

The new King of Eyre was a righteous young man, and the war that was feared never came.  For the tale of Bran the Blessed was repeated far and wide among the people of Eyre and Cambria, and they never grew tired of hearing it.  And for love of Brandon, the people of both lands swore never to make war on each other again.

Then Bran the Blessed and Branwen the Fair lived a long life in peace, and they were honored by their people. 

And in all the time since, there has never been another like Brandon.  No one in all the land of Cambria has ever been so faithful and true, nor so blessed and brave as he was, and he is remembered with love even to this day.

The Land of Fear

Wisdom is better than weapons of war.

                                               - Ecclesiastes 9:18

Once there was a girl named Elisabeth, who had a most amazing adventure.

She lived in a cottage with her father and two sisters (Their names were Aline and Celeste), in the village of Brumbling, not far from the River of Fear.  Now this was a terrible place where only the bravest or the most foolish people ever dared to go, for no one had ever returned.

All sorts of things were whispered about it by the people of Brumbling.  Some believed that there must be a dragon, and others spoke of a terrible sorcerer in a tall black tower.  A few told stories of things even more frightening.  But everyone also agreed that there was a treasure so wonderful and amazing that it could not even be described.

Elisabeth had heard these things all her life long, and she burned with desire to know the real truth of the matter.

In those days a great war had come to Brumbling, and the village stood almost empty.  Elisabeth was not old enough to help, and she had been left in the village with her older sisters to tend the fields and the house.  Their father was an excellent bowman, and had gone away with the army for a little while.  Elisabeth knew that it was necessary, but she still felt lonely without Father.

For one thing, Aline and Celeste were not very kind to her.  They seemed to think that Elisabeth should do all the nasty, tedious chores that they didn’t want to do, and Aline especially would pinch her unmercifully.  Elisabeth endured all this until the day the town crier ran through the village, shrieking that the barbarians had defeated the army of Brumbling, and that they now demanded a mountain of gold from the people by the end of the day, or they would utterly destroy the village at sunrise tomorrow morning.

Aline and Celeste wept and screamed when they heard this news, and immediately began packing bags to run as far away as possible.  Elisabeth was angry with them for being so cowardly, and told them so.  But Celeste only threw a bag at her and told her not to be a fool, and Aline pinched her arm hard enough to leave bruises.

Elisabeth made up her mind that she would not run away from the barbarians with her sisters.  She decided that she would herself get the mountain of gold that they demanded, by going into the forbidden lands near the River to find the treasure.

Therefore she packed the bag Celeste had given her, but instead of waiting for her sisters, she slipped quietly out the back door and ran to the barn.  The hay loft was nearly full with fresh straw, and Elisabeth hid herself quite carefully in the darkest corner she could find.  Aline and Celeste never visited the barn  if they could help it, for they hated to get dirty, and Celeste especially was afraid of the cows.  Elisabeth herself rather liked the animals.  She had spent many mornings feeding them and collecting the milk.

It wasn’t long before she heard Aline calling her name, and shortly after that she heard her sister’s footsteps running into the byre.

“Beth!” she called, so loud that Elisabeth could imagine her standing right under the hay loft.  She kept very quiet until she heard Aline go away.  That didn’t take long, for she knew Aline wouldn’t spend any more time looking for her than she had to.

As soon as she was sure Aline was gone, Elisabeth left the barn and walked briskly to the little creek that flowed behind her house.  It was not much more than ten feet across, and she immediately began to follow it downstream, for she knew it would lead her to the river before too long.  That was a good thing, for she had no wish to become lost in the woods on her way there.

Indeed it wasn’t very long at all before the creek entered the edge of the forest and lost itself among the tall dark trees.  Elisabeth had never been inside the forest before, for it was far too near the river for anyone’s comfort, and there were the most horrifying stories told about what went on there. 

One of these stories in particular was on Elisabeth’s mind as she looked at the opening.  Her Tante Cheri had told her, long ago, that there were ghouls that haunted the woods, hideous beasts wrapped in rotting grave clothes who waited with dripping mouths to kill and eat anyone who ventured into the darkness under the trees.  Elisabeth had pretended not to be scared at the time, but now she couldn’t help wondering if there might not really be something in there after all.  The woods looked very dark and scary.

However, while she hesitated at the edge, she suddenly heard the very last thing she wanted to hear.

“Beth!” came Celeste’s voice, somewhere not too far behind her.  Elisabeth made up her mind quickly.  Without even looking back to see how close Celeste might be, she took off running toward the woods as fast as she could go.  She could move very quickly when she wanted to, and it was no more than a few seconds before she felt the trees close in around her.  She didn’t stop even then, but continued running along the creek bank until the edge of the woods was far behind her.  Celeste would never follow her among the trees, of that she was certain.  She hadn’t forgotten about the ghouls, but she determined to go ahead anyway.

The creek gurgled and bubbled placidly along beside her while she walked, and after a few hours (during which she saw no ghouls at all), Elisabeth came abruptly to the bank of the river.  The creek flowed out past a little cottonwood tree and lost itself in the main current, so that she now had no path to follow.

There was a sort of beach at the place where she stood, of rocks and sand.  The river was nothing special, as far as Elisabeth could tell.  There was certainly nothing scary or unusual about it.  Since she had come back out into the daylight, the whole idea of ghouls and magic had begun to seem rather silly again.  She looked up and down the bank without seeing anything to give her a goal to move toward, so she sat down on the warm sand to think about it a while. 

Elisabeth had often gone down to the creek to play in the sand or skip rocks on the water if she could find any good ones, and she began absentmindedly tossing pebbles into the river while she thought about what to do.  The current must have been swift, for it snatched away the ripples almost as soon as they formed.  She hadn’t been doing this for very long when a huge silver fish came to the top of the water and looked at her.

"I do wish you would quit dropping rocks into my bedroom," the fish growled, in a bubbly, fishy sort of voice.

"I'm sorry. . . I didn't know you were there," Elisabeth said, too startled to think of anything else to say.

"What?!  You didn't know that fishes live in the river?" the fish demanded, insulted.

"No. . . I mean yes, I did know that; I just never thought about it before," Elisabeth admitted.

"Humph," the fish grumbled, "Well, I forgive you just this once, since you’re only a girl and couldn't possibly be expected to know any better, but it had best not happen ever again."

Now Elisabeth thought the fish was being very rude, and she stood up to tell him so, but just as she reached the edge of the water she twisted her ankle on a loose stone and fell down.  It hurt fairly badly, and she began to rub it.

“Tsk, tsk. . . clumsy as well as stupid,” the fish commented, watching her.  Elisabeth lost her patience, for she disliked rude and insensitive people.

“You could at least ask if I was alright.  I might have broken my ankle, you know,” she told him disapprovingly.

“But you didn’t, now did you?” he asked her cheerfully, as if that solved the whole matter.  She was still trying to think how to reply to such a question when the fish went on without waiting for her answer.

“Still, you might have an idea.  That could be a nasty bruise later on.  I’d better get you something for it,” he said, almost to himself.  Before she could reply, he disappeared under the water again.

The fish wasn’t actually gone very long, but Elisabeth did have time to stand up and put some weight on her ankle.  The pain was too much to bear, and it forced her to sit down again.  Before long the fish reappeared, holding a thin sliver of what looked like beaver wood in its mouth.  He spit it out on the beach, then coughed up a bit of mucus and blew it into the water.  Elisabeth looked at him with disgust.

“Well, are you going to pick up the stick, or what?” the fish asked her impatiently.  Truthfully, Elisabeth would rather have had nothing else to do with the fish, but she decided that if he meant to help her she ought to be polite.  She reached out and picked up the beaver stick.  It was still slimy from the fish’s mouth and from whatever nasty place it had been taken from.  She held it with distaste.

“Well, aren’t you going to use it?” the fish demanded.

“What’s it for, and how am I supposed to use it?” she asked, getting annoyed herself now.

“I would have thought even a little girl would know what to do with that,” the fish told her. 

She could almost imagine him rolling his eyes at her. . . if he had had any eyelids.

“But never mind.  Touch the stick to your ankle,” he told her.  Elisabeth did so, and instantly the pain disappeared.  She stood up carefully to test it out, and to her surprise she found that her ankle was completely well again.  She looked up at the fish.

“Thank you,” she told him, and meant  it. 

“Well. . . I couldn’t have a litterbug lolling around on my doorstep all day,” the fish muttered.  Elisabeth was willing to tolerate his gruffness now, so she let it pass.  She started to hand him back the stick.

“No, no. . . you keep it, missie.  I don’t need it anymore,” he grumbled.  Elisabeth slipped the stick into her pocket and fastened the button, and while she was thinking about what else to say to the fish, he suddenly disappeared back into the river, without so much as a flick of his tail to say goodbye.

“Well, Mr. Fish, I’ll certainly remember not to throw any more rocks into your bedroom,” she said to herself, looking at the spot where the fish had disappeared.  A few bubbles were coming up from somewhere below, but she couldn’t tell if he heard her or not.

After a while, Elisabeth realized she couldn’t stand on the bank all day.  She had to find some way to keep going.  Upstream was a thicket of bamboo, which looked so tangled and heavy that she doubted she could ever get through it.  Behind her was the ghoul-haunted forest, and she was still uneasy about going back in there.  Ahead of her was the river, much too wide and strong to think of swimming.

“And so,” she said to herself, “that really leaves only one way left.  Downstream it is.”  In that direction the rocky beach went on for quite some time, and Elisabeth followed it.  Now and then she had to stop and dump sand and pebbles out of her shoes, but otherwise the going was not too difficult.

Eventually, though, she came to a  knot of wild thorn trees that completely blocked the way.  Elisabeth was not anxious to go in among the thorn trees, because they were wickedly sharp.  The river looked a bit shallower near the edge, and she decided after much thought to try wading in the shallows until she got past the thorn thicket.  Then maybe she could continue on her way.

She took off her shoes and held them so they wouldn’t get wet, and then gingerly stepped into the water.  It was warm as summer, not freezing cold as she had half expected it would be.  The bottom seemed to be mostly gravel in that place, which made it easy to keep her footing.

Not quite easy enough, though.  She had made it most of the way around the thorn thicket when she lost her balance and fell into the deep water with a huge splash.  The current snatched her at once, and almost before she knew what was happening it had carried her far from the shore.  She lost her shoes and tried her best to swim toward the bank, but the swirling river was too strong, and she was getting farther away from land every second. 

Elisabeth began to get frightened, and that is always a very bad thing to do when one is swimming.  But before she could get really terrified, she felt her feet drag the bottom for just a second, and she turned her head to see an island right behind her.

Elisabeth wasted no time forgetting about the distant shore.  She could reach the island, and that was all she cared about.  She grabbed a muddy root that hung out into the water and hung on for dear life.  The current tried to tear her away, but gradually she was able to pull herself along the root until she reached the shore.  She climbed up out of the water, soaking wet and shivering in the light breeze.

The island wasn’t very big.  In fact, it was barely more than a sand bar with a few tough bushes growing on it.  Elisabeth looked out across the river and immediately gave up all hope of swimming back to the bank she’d just come from.  It was much too far, and the river was too swift. 

She crossed the island and found that it wasn’t nearly so far to the bank on that side.  Only about a hundred feet of sluggish backwater separated the island from solid ground.  But that way was choked with fallen logs and brush that didn’t look appealing at all.  Elisabeth knew she couldn’t stay on the island forever, but how was she to get off? 

She was staring at the log jam, wondering if she might possibly risk walking across it, when she got a nasty surprise.

“Hello, miss.  Can I help you?” a cheerful voice asked her.  Elisabeth was startled, and looked down at her feet to see an alligator floating in the water.  He was much too close to her feet for comfort, and Elisabeth stepped back hastily.  The alligator giggled.  Not a deep laugh like you might have expected, but a high-pitched giggle that reminded Elisabeth of her sisters in one of their silliest moods.

“Surely you’re not afraid, are you?” it asked her, and giggled again.

“Um. . .  just a little bit,” Elisabeth admitted, for she was a very truthful girl.  The alligator stopped giggling to itself and looked at her for a long time.

“Hmm. . . .  no, I don’t think you’d make more than a mouthful, so you need not be afraid,” it told her.  Elisabeth didn’t like that answer much, but she thought it was best not to argue.  The alligator might change its mind.

“I need to get across the river,” she told him, changing the subject.

“I’d be glad to give you a lift over the water,” the alligator said brightly, with a toothy smile that didn’t do anything at all to make Elisabeth feel better.  While she hesitated, the alligator went on without waiting for an answer.

“What are you doing here by the river, anyway?  We don’t often get human beings down this way,” he said.

“An army of barbarians has invaded my village, and they want a mountain of gold or they’ll destroy everything.  So I came here to find it,” she told him.

“Hmm. . . well now that’s not very nice of them, is it?  No, not nice at all,” the gator giggled.

“It’s not really very funny,” Elisabeth scolded him.

“Ah, no, no, I suppose it isn’t,” the gator agreed, still smirking.  Elisabeth was about to decide the alligator was just as annoying as the fish had been, if that was possible.  But the fish had helped her, and maybe the alligator could help her too.

“Do you know where I could find any gold?”  she asked him hopefully.

“Ah, gold!  No, there’s no gold anywhere near the river.  We have no use for that sort of thing,” he declared.  Elisabeth was crushed, for it seemed that her trip to the river was a huge waste of time after all, and tears began to fall from her eyes into the water.

“Ah, missie, you mustn’t cry now,” the alligator told her hastily.  Elisabeth lost her patience.

“The barbarians will destroy my village if they don’t get that gold.  Why shouldn’t I cry about that?” she demanded hotly.  The gator seemed taken aback for a moment, but he soon regained his composure.  He giggled again, which irritated Elisabeth to no end.

“Well now, I might be able to tell you something useful about that, I might.  I just might,” he said, smiling mysteriously.  He was obviously enjoying himself very much.  Elisabeth stopped crying and waited for him to tell her what it was, but he didn’t say a word.

“What was it you could tell me?” she finally asked, when the silence had stretched out for a minute or more.

“I thought you’d never ask!” the gator exclaimed, with another attack of giggles.

“It’s true there’s no gold in this place, but there’s something much better,” he whispered.  Elisabeth was interested now and leaned close to hear better.

“What is it?” she asked.

“On the far bank of the river, a little downstream, there’s a ruined stone tower.  And in a room at the top of that tower there lives a huge snowy owl.  And if you bring him something he likes well enough, he can grant you a wish.  Anything you want.  Even a mountain of gold,” the gator informed her.  Elisabeth was overjoyed at that news, and her face lit up.  The gator saw it.

“Ah, not so fast, missie!  If you go to the owl emptyhanded, or if you bring him something he doesn’t like, then he’ll eat you for supper instead of giving you a wish,” the alligator warned her.  That did put a crimp in things, Elisabeth had to admit.  She wasn’t ready to give up yet, though.

“What does the owl like?” she asked.

“No one has ever figured that out.  Only one man ever came back out of the tower alive, and he isn’t talking,” the gator told her, nodding mysteriously again.

“Where can I find that man?  Why won’t he talk to anybody?” she demanded.

“Because, when he came out from visiting the owl he tried to cross the river, and I ate him up,” the gator told her with another one of those toothy smiles.  Elisabeth stepped back from the shore in sudden alarm.  The gator slipped into another attack of giggles, so much so that he choked on a mouthful of water and had to cough.

“Just pulling your leg, missie,” he told her, when he was able to contain himself.

“That wasn’t funny,” she scowled.

“Ah, but it was!  But truly, I’ll be glad to give you a ride across the water on my back, if you  like,” he offered again.

Elisabeth honestly didn’t like that idea  at all, but she couldn’t think of any other way to get off the island.  She had to get to the owl.  As soon as she figured out what would keep him from eating her for supper, that was.  So she gathered her courage and climbed on the alligator’s back.  He faithfully carried her  across the river as he said he would, and deposited her on the shore.  She was glad to be on solid ground again.

“Just follow the river downstream, and you’ll come to the tower before long!” he called out as he swam away, and giggled again.  Elisabeth watched him until he disappeared, and then set off down the bank.  Walking barefoot slowed her down considerably, and she wished she hadn’t lost her shoes.

Even so, it wasn’t very long before she saw a black stone tower rising above the trees near the bank, just as the alligator had said she would.  There she stopped, because she had no idea what the owl might like.  What could she give him that he didn’t already have?

It was also still daylight, and she remembered that owls liked to sleep during the day.  She certainly didn’t want to annoy him by waking him up early.  So in the meantime she sat down on a dead log to wait.         

By the time it started to get dark she still hadn’t thought of any good answer to the question of what to give the owl, and she was afraid he would soon leave the tower to go hunting for the night.  Elisabeth knew there wasn’t time to wait and think about it any longer.  The barbarians would destroy Brumbling at sunrise if they didn’t have the gold by then.    

She therefore decided to go in and speak to the owl boldly, and try to make a deal with him.  She hadn’t forgotten what the alligator said about being eaten for supper, but that was a risk she decided she’d just have to take.

She approached the tower slowly, not eager at all to face the owl any sooner than she had to.  There was a door in the base of the tower which seemed to be the only way in, and at first she was afraid it would be locked.  But when she touched it, she soon discovered that it was made of wood so rotten that she could pull it apart with her bare hands.  She tore down enough of the door to squeeze through, and found herself in an open room that took up the entire bottom floor of the tower.  There was a stone staircase that circled the outer wall and led up through the ceiling, and she knew that had to be where the owl lived.  She took a deep breath to calm her fear and then very resolutely climbed up to meet him.

There were three floors to the tower, and when she reached the top one, Elisabeth found the owl.  He was sitting on a nest made of branches and straw, looking out into the gathering dusk through a big ragged hole in the stone wall.  He was white as snow, and he had to have been at least the size of a horse.  His eyes were big as dinner plates, and his beak looked sharper than a knife, with a cruel hook on the end.  He must have heard her coming up the stairs, for he turned to look at her when she came in.

“Why have you come here?” he asked, getting right to the point.  For a moment Elisabeth was too terrified to speak, but at last she found her voice.

“Sir Owl, I’m sorry to disturb you.  But an army has attacked my village, and they will destroy it this very sunrise unless we give them a mountain of gold.  I came here because I was told that you could do this, if I wished it,” she said, in a voice that she hoped sounded braver than she felt.  The owl studied her with its dinner-plate eyes for a while.

“Not many are brave enough to come here and ask, but yes, I could do that.  But surely you know the price.  What have you brought me?” he said at last.  This was the moment Elisabeth had been dreading.

“Sir Owl, I had no idea what you might wish for, but if there’s anything I have or can get for you, I will do it,” she told him.  The owl looked impatient.

“Now don’t tell me you’re one of those kind,” he said in disgust.  Then he seemed to think better of it.

“As a matter of fact there is something I want, but you could never get it for me.  It lies at the bottom of the river, and the current is very deep and strong.  Since you came here for someone else’s sake and not for greed, I’ll let you go without eating you tonight, but don’t bother me again,” the owl told her, and then turned as if to go.  Elisabeth couldn’t let her only chance slip away.

“Sir Owl, what is this thing you want?  I promise I’ll find a way to get it for you!” she cried.  The owl looked back at her in annoyance.

“Still here?  I thought I told you to go away before I eat you,” he growled.

“I have to know what will save my village,” she told him, not backing down.

“You’re a plucky one,” he commented, half to himself.  “Alright, then, girl.  If you’re so sure of yourself then I’ll tell you what I want, and if you can bring it here before the night is over then I’ll grant your wish.  But if not, then I’ll find you and eat you for breakfast, no matter where you may try to hide.  Will you make that deal?” he demanded.

“Yes sir,” she told him without hesitation.  He looked amazed, but he didn’t  try to talk her out of it anymore.  He simply began to tell her what she needed to know.

“Long ago, I had a magical piece of wood that kept me young and strong at all times, and it could heal any sickness or injury there was.  But as I flew across the river one night, another owl attacked me by surprise.  He thought he could kill me and take my tower and my magic.  How the feathers flew in the moonlight!  I ate him for supper that night.  But during the fight I dropped my stick in the river, and without it I’ll soon grow old and weak, and then another owl will take my place after all.  But no one can dredge it up from the bottom of the river, even if it hasn’t been washed down to the sea.  You won’t be able to do it either, but maybe you’ll taste better than a deer or a goat in the morning,” the owl said.

Elisabeth shivered, but she reached in the pocket of her dress, thankful indeed for the button that held it shut.

“Is this what you want, Sir Owl?” she asked, pulling out the stick she’d gotten from the fish.  The owl gasped when he saw it, which sounded very strange.

“Where did you find that?  Give it to me at once!” he cried.  Elisabeth held out the stick so the owl could grasp it in one of his razor-sharp talons.  He snatched it from her as fast as he could get close enough, as if afraid she might change her mind.  When he managed to contain his pleasure, he looked at her again.

“Well!  You lived up to your end of the bargain, so now I must live up to mine.  You get just one wish, missie, so take care!  Use it wisely,” he told her.

“Then I wish for a mountain of-“ she began, but the owl interrupted her.

“I’ll offer you a bit of advice, missie, and if you’re wise then you’ll take it.  Don’t ask for that mountain of gold, because if you do then who’s to say the barbarians will keep their word?  They may take the gold and destroy the village anyway.  And even if they don’t, then another enemy may appear someday, or another disaster may come.  Think of more than just today,” he urged her.  Elisabeth saw that this was good advice, but it left her wondering what she should ask for.

“What should I wish for then?” she finally asked the owl.

“Hoo. . . no one has ever asked me that before,” he told her, seeming surprised.

“But I need to know,” she insisted.

“Then ask for wisdom, missie.  Because wisdom is the chief thing, and if you have that, then everything else will fall into place,” he told her.  It seemed just like the sort of thing an owl would say.

 “Then I wish to be the wisest person in the world,” she said.  The owl couldn’t smile with his beak, but Elisabeth was certain she could hear it in his voice when he spoke.

“Your wish is granted.  And because you trusted me and asked for the best thing of all, I will destroy your enemies myself,” he told her.

And it was so.  Elisabeth made her way back to Brumbling with no further adventures the next day, and she found that all the barbarians had been destroyed or driven away during the night, just as the owl had promised her. 

No one thought to ask where Elisabeth had been.  No one except Celeste, that is, who had seen her go into the forest.  But when Celeste pressed her to know what she had seen and done, Elisabeth would only smile and say nothing.

Thus it was that no one in Brumbling ever knew that Elisabeth had saved them from the barbarians at the risk of her life, and she was content to have it so.  But in later years, her wisdom was such that the people often came to her for help with their most difficult problems, and they were often amazed at the words that came from her mouth. 

In time, her fame spread even to other villages, so that there were always visitors at the little cottage who wished to speak with her.  Many of the visitors were wealthy and important people, and left rich gifts at her feet.  And at last she was held in such awe by the people of many lands that no one would have dreamed of attacking Brumbling ever again.  Thus it happened even as the owl had told her it would; by asking for wisdom, she had received wealth and honor and power as well, without even needing to ask.

And Elisabeth lived a long and happy life in blessedness.

© Copyright 2009 by William Woodall.  All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to actual persons, places, or events is purely coincidental.  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of Jeremiah Press.  First published by Jeremiah Press on 02/11/2009.  Cover photo by Piccola Faccia, used under license.

Hardback ISBN 978-0-9819641-4-0

Library of Congress Control Number:  2009920153