There was once a young woman who lived with her mother in a cottage at the edge of night and the beginning of the sunrise; and the trees all about were dark and silent. Yet they were happy together, for the mother loved her daughter, and the daughter was full-glad in her mother’s company. And the daughter was merry and beautiful and gentle, as kindly as the day and as fair as the fields of flowers that she took delight in.
Verily would she have been loved by many, but this was not so. For the mother was wise in strange things, and she saw that which was hid from the eyes of others, and she herself hid close a terrible secret. For the mother knew that her daughter was marked with a terrible fate: that if ever she fell in love, she would die. Hence was it so that the mother had come to that strange cottage hid so deep in those terrible woods: that she might cheat this chance and spare her daughter, for truly did she cherish her above all else.
And so they lived, and loved, and marveled together, that mother and her daughter so fair. But not so readily is Fate escaped, even with all the wiles of that mother, and so it was that one day, a young man passed into those woods. Brave and mighty was he, an explorer and a traveller in the strange, and though the perils of the wood were many, and it was dark and filled with a dread, he passed through it unscathed. And though the paths that led to the Cottage at the Edge of Night were twisted all about in secret ways, he dared them, and bested them, and came even to the door of the cottage, where the daughter was without and she was gathering lilies.
Then stopped the young man short in alarm, for never had he beheld such a vision of loveliness, and great was his wonder. But she heard his tread and glanced upon him, and thus was her tender heart ensnared, and they loved each other from that moment on, for he was not less fair than she, and their hearts were for a time akin.
So came the young man to tarry in that cottage for many a while, and the mother permitted it. For she, too, saw that the young man was noble and true, and she could not deny her daughter this joy. And indeed, the mother herself loved the young man, and the young man the mother, though the love of each was strange. For the mother could not look upon the young man without dread, and for his part, he marked the mother’s cold regard and he feared her, and he did not understand her ways.
But for a time, all were happy, and there was peace and merriment in the cottage, and no hatred yet stirred in any heart, for even the mother could not but admit that the young man was not less than her daughter.
Yet Fate is greedy, and cruel besides. And if there be any joy that lasts evermore, I do not know of it.
So it was that, one day, a terrible and dreadful monster came to the wood, and of all the fell beasts that roamed through its darkling glades, it was yet more perilous, and a hatred burned in its wicked heart, and it was fed by misery and satiated by despair. And it slew all who stood before it, and it despoiled the earth and brought the ancient trees to ruin, and still it hungered.
Then did the young man arise, for he deemed that even the cottage would not be safe from the monster. And he took up his arms long left aside, and rode forth in challenge of war, for he was as skilled a swordsman as ever had been known, and his heart was high and valiant.
What came to pass in that strife deep within the woods between the young man and the monster, I cannot say. But when the young man returned, he was strangely changed, and from that day forth he was struck by an ill mood. Violent and restless he had become, bitter and quick to anger. Ever was he swift to displeasure, and slow in the taming of it, and he became ill-favoured: a lout selfish and fierce.
And the daughter did not love him less, though she feared him now and wept for him, but she hoped and sought to arrest this dreadful change that had fallen upon him. But the mother’s fears, too, swelled and grew, for she saw clearly now that her daughter was imperilled by the young man’s many wickednesses, and she feared that any day now the young man would do a deadly hurt upon her beloved daughter in the midst of his madness.
Then did the mother resolve to do a terrible deed. So it was that late one night, she took up a long knife that gleamed in the moon’s pleading light, and she crept up the stairs to the bed of the young man, and she struck a dreadful blow that he might be slain and thus would an end be put to his danger.
But when she struck her blow, the form of the young man fell away, and she was looking upon the face of her own daughter, wounded now even to the death by her mother’s own strike. For the daughter, too, was learned in crafts and wise in the ways of her mother. And she had glimpsed her mother’s heart, and her mother’s dread, and so had resolved to spare her lover’s life that he may live.
Thus it was that the mother slew her own daughter, and when the young man was roused by her anguished wails, he sprang from his slumber and saw what she had done, and he came to understand all that had come to pass. Then was the shadow lifted from his heart, and filled with grief, for his love for the daughter had not wavered, though he had forgotten it. And long he and the mother wept together, for the woman they both had loved and both had misused.
They live still together in that cottage at the edge of night, the mother and the young man.
This is a tale that is true, as all tales are. But its ending has not yet been written.
- With thanks to the crew of ‘The Happy Hedgehog’, who inspired this tale. For commentary upon this work, please see the accompanying post!
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