A Fairy-Story

I have been reading a lot f Hans Christian Anderson lately. His style is amazing; he is such a great writer. So I was cleaning my room (yet again) and a little story popped into my head. (That's right. Stories. In. My. Head. Get used to it. Writers habit.)

-The Ash-Girl-
Part the First: The Woodcutter's Daughter

On the edge of a great wood there lived a woodcutter in a small hut. His belongings were few: he owned an iron pot, a wooden cart, along with an ox and a cow, and a bowl of bone china given to him by his wife's sister. The woodcutter's wife had died in giving birth to his daughter, so they lived together. The daughter did not often go into town, but stayed at home and tended the garden. She had pale, tangled hair and her nose was somewhat squashed; yet her voice was sweet and clear; many early travelers who took the road south of the forest would hear her song floating through the morning air.

It came to be that while the woodcutter was felling trees in the wood, a wealthy merchant was wandering through the countryside, passing the house and heard the daughter as she sang a melody while churning butter. He climbed out of the carriage and knocked softly on the door that led into the hut.

"Who is it at the door?" the daughter sang, "be it knight or traveling bard? be it thief or soldier marred? be it scribe or be it ped'ler? be it a native or be it a settler?" and answered it. The merchant was at first saddened that the singer was not half as lovely as her voice, yet her eyes were bright and her face was honest, as homely as it was. He said to her:

"Maiden, I am a merchant who has lost his way. I be not a knight, nor a bard, nor a thief or a man of war. I be not a scribe, nor am I one from town near. I am a merchant from far in the West, and have come to trade wares in a village near a great wood."

The woodcutter's daughter laughed, and it was as musical as her song. "You have come not far from the village. It is but half a day's walk from here, to the north."

"Thanks to you, child," said the merchant, "but I am yet to continue on my journey. My horse is weary and it is nigh dusk. There are robbers along the High Road; I fear for my wares. Would it trouble you to have a guest stay for one night?"

"Certainly not," replied the woodcutter's daughter, "however, there is little room in this hut. You may take my bed and I shall sleep in the shed, for it has a loft that I can comfortably stay in."

"You heart is pure as gold, my lady!" cried the merchant. "Let Heaven shower blessings upon you."

So the daughter led the merchant to where he was to stay, and fed his horse, and locked up the carriage in the cart-house, for it had been built for two. She finished churning her butter and began to cook the supper of that night. Before the dusk fell the woodcutter returned home, his cart filled with wood. Introductions were made, and they sat down to eat. That night the daughter slept in the shed above the cows and the horse, while the merchant and the woodcutter slept in the hut. The next morning, the woodcutter said to his daughter: "I had not time to go into town to sell my wood yestereve; will you go with it and lead this merchant with you to earn some money?"

"Certainly, father," said the girl, and she kissed him on the head and put the ox on the cart to go into town.

Four hours after noon the merchant cleaned up his wares and counted his gold. An abundant profit was made, and the daughter had sold all of the wood as well.

"Well, I must return home now. My father would be waiting for me," sad the girl.

"So he must be," said the merchant, and added, "There is no inn in this town. Would it trouble you if I stayed at your home again until I have no more wares to sell?"

"Not at all," replied the woodcutter's daughter, and e returned home with her. This is how the days went for a month and a day. One afternoon as the daughter was unhitching the ox from the cart after another day of sales, the merchant confronted her, and spoke.

"Little mistress," said the merchant, "I must admit that I am a very blunt man, and here I will say that I have grown to love you over the days; you are good-hearted, and though your face is plain, your voice is beautiful. I have yet to marry, and have been looking for a wife. My home is large and comfortable; both you and your father could come and live with me and we shall marry. We will be very happy there. Will you return to the West with me?"

"I should like to," said the daughter, and ran into the house to tell her father. He and the merchant talked long into the night about the matter, and in the morning the woodcutter told his daughter of what was to be done.

"I have no wish to lay idle in a large house all day, as cutting wood is what I am good at and I enjoy it. Therefore I will not travel west with you and the merchant; however, I will visit you for one week every year. Does that suit you?"

"It does, though I would like to see more of you, dear father," said the girl.

So that day the daughter packed up her things and left with the merchant, and they travelled to the West. A great wedding was planned, and the date for it was set to be six months off.

The woodcutter's daughter felt displaced; she was plain and unrefined, and did not feel comfortable having servants to do the work she so readily did at home. But the merchant was kind to her, and supplied her with clothes and gave her a room to stay in. Also, knowing her love for birds, he once brought home a warbler for her, and the bird would sing the daughter to sleep, reminding her of the sounds of the wood. Yet she was still lonely, and was lonelier still when news came that her father had died of the summer illness. She drifted into a state where she was always half-asleep; she would not eat anything but a handful of dry wheat; she would not sing anymore, and her eyes were no longer bright and glad.

One night, a week before their wedding, the merchant came into her room and gravely said to her, "I had told you once that I was a blunt man. Well now I must say that I have no more reason to love you; your bird sings but you do not; your eyes no longer laugh; you have become paler and thinner; your face homelier and your heart has become cold and unreachable. I have met another girl, one who is prettier than you and sings almost as well, and though her heart was not as king she is wealthy, richer than I am, so I shall go and live with her. But since you were to be my wife and I have no more use for this house and its servants, I bestow them upon you as a parting gift. I am sorry to leave you; you would have been a wonderful wife and mother if your father had not yet died. Good-bye, and I wish you fortune, for Heaven pities those in need." And so the merchant left.

That evening the daughter packed a bar of soap, some food and an extra bit of clothing into a bag, and tied a green ribbon about the top of the cage in which she kept her warbler in, and put the house under the control of the head servant. "I will leave now," she said, "for I have no reason to stay." So she climbed onto her horse and left.

For thirty days and thirty nights she rode through the towns, looking for work. Finally she came to the residence of an old woman, who said to her, "I have no use for a servant; however, there is a king who lives over yon valley. He may have something for you to do." So the girl thanked the old woman and rode another day and night to the palace. There she rode along to the back door where a servant boy was emptying a sack of carrot peelings into a bucket f pig slop.

"Good morning," he said when he saw the girl.

"Good morning," she replied. "I seek a job; do you have any to give?"

"Certainly," the boy said. "I shall tell the cook."

Soon the cook came out and looked the girl over. "You certainly won't do to serve the king," the cook said. "Your face is too homely for that. But there is a lovely girl who sweeps the ashes who can do that. Will sweeping please you? You will receive one silver piece a day and a loaf of bread, but we have no quarters to let you rest in. You may have the cupboard between the kitchen and the main palace. Will that please you?"

"It will indeed," replied the girl, and put her horse into the stable, and moved her belongings into her cupboard.

So she worked. The old ash-sweeper became a server, and the woodcutter's daughter became an ash-sweeper. So she worked and lived happily in the palace for a while like that.

-End of Part the First-

Also, happy Fourth for all of you Americans out there. Enjoy the fireworks!