Hans and the Spider

Hans and The Spider.

In a land nestled between two forgotten countries, in a verdant forest
spread across the floor of a valley, there lived a potter and his
son.
The potter, Dragor, made a modest living from selling his wares in the
village at the edge of the valley. Early each morning, he collected the
rich red earth for his urns and vases in a wicker basket he carried on
his back to a slope beside a deep lake. He would then spend the day at
work in the potting room, firing up the kiln and turning the clay into
the graceful shapes for which he was renowned. His son Hans would
dutifully collect berries, herbs and coloured earth in the surrounding
forest and take them to his father, who ground them in a mortar and
pestle and used their pigments to create beautiful drawings and designs
on the sides of his creations.
Hans would then venture out to play in the forest, among the tall
ancient trees and in the small secret places where the ferns dripped
water and moss grew abundantly on damp fallen logs. The forest was
large and Hans knew much of it, however there were places his father
forbade him to venture, the deeper parts where no one had been for
centuries, where things that were best left unmet were rumored to have
their lairs.

Life for both of them was simple, but neither Hans nor Dragor went
without the things that were needed to keep body and soul together, and
each was happy to live surrounded by the beauty and simplicity that was
their home.

As time went by, Hans grew older and ventured deeper and deeper into
the forest, further away from the small cottage. He learnt to mimic the
calls of the birds that hid among the branches, and knew all the secret
trails of the forest beasts. He could survive on that which he gathered
and find shelter from the rain in the many underground caves. He came
to know the secret forest lore and in turn became a part of the forest
himself.
?..

One morning, as the birds were waking from their slumber and sending
their calls through the cold air, Dragor set off for the lake with his
wicker basket to collect clay. Trekking through the bracken in the
morning twilight, he stumbled and tripped on a silken strand, which lay
hidden across the path. He raised his eyes from the ground to see a
beautiful web, which spanned several trees, drifting broken in the
gentle morning breeze. A cold sliver of terror stabbed at his heart,
for he knew from the legends that this was a web woven by the ancient
and evil spider Magora. Once a beautiful and heartless woman, she was
turned into a spider monstrosity for her depthless greed and the evil
she wrought upon the village-folk many moons ago. With fear racing
through his veins, he turned back toward the cottage, but froze when he
saw her blocking the path before him.
She was large and round and her pale body was the colour of the moon.
Her spindly spider legs were in constant motion as she watched him with
her eight dark eyes.
'Hello old man,' she cooed as her legs moved with a life of their
own.
'Your clumsiness has broken my beautiful web. I'll catch no more
creatures for my children and I to feast upon this day,' her voice
flowed like oil as she moved ever closer to him.
' I have enough prey from the night's catch to suffice, and so for
your negligence you'll not die a quick death but linger painfully,
slowly wasting away till my poison finally claims you.' She told the
terrified man.
And with that she leapt upon him, sinking her fangs deep into his flesh
and injecting him with her deadly venom.
?..

Shaking, pale and weak, Dragor stumbled back to the cottage, managing
only to collapse into Hans's arms and say a single word.
'Magora?.'
With tears of grief, Hans gently laid his father on the bed.
'Oh father,' he sobbed 'what has happened? Please tell me!' But Dragor
lay still and pale on his small bed.
'I'll fetch the healing woman from the village; she'll know what to
do. Everything will be as it was, I swear!'
So Hans ran mile after mile to the village and to the old lady who was
the village's healer. When she heard what Dragor had said she shook her
head sadly, taking the boys hand and looking sorrowfully into his
eyes.
'I'm sorry Han's my lad, there is nothing anyone can do for your
father,' she told him.
' The only cure for Magora's poison is the Witch-white herb she keeps
in her lair. She was once a great healer and cultivated herbs with
potent curing powers, but she destroyed most of these when she was
turned, and took what remained with her.'
Han's faced her, and with the determined voice of a man said,
'My father is all that I have; I will find this Magora's lair and get
the herb that he needs.'

Before setting out on his quest, Hans went down a secret path to a
hidden cave. In one of the antechambers of this cave, in a corner
hanging from the ceiling were hundreds of fireflies, their light
casting an eerie green glow upon the cave walls. This cave was the only
place in the whole of the Great Forest where these beautiful creatures
could be found and Hans the only one who knew of them. He quickly
emptied into his pockets the berries and fruits from the pot the healer
woman had given him for supplies and gathered some of the fireflies,
placing them gently into the pot before returning it to his
knapsack.
?..

For a day and a night Hans strode deeper into the forest. He beheld
many strange and frightening things along the way. During the first day
he heard the sweetest music like the tinkling of crystals, which seemed
to come from the very air itself. Once during the night he hid from a
hideous two-headed beast, which crouched upon a rock growling and
preening itself. And throughout his journey he fancied he saw ghastly
creatures, half-seen half sensed among the shadows of the gnarled
trees.

At last he came upon a raven, preening its feathers in a tall tree
beside a clearing. The raven was a huge bird, whose black feathers
glowed with rainbow sheen in the meager light. The raven stopped
preening to stare at Hans who tipped his hat to the bird.
'Ho there, Raven of the forest, aren't you a fine specimen!'
To Hans's great surprise, the Raven spoke.
'Why thank you young lad,' said the Raven haughtily preening its
feathers 'but I must ask, why has someone such as yourself so foolishly
ventured into this, the darkest part of the forest?'
'I would not venture a step past the great rock at the edge of the
cliff but for the ailing health of my father. I must find the giant
spider Magora and ask for the magic Witch-white herb she keeps in a
stone deep in her lair, for this is the only way to save my pa from a
most painful end.'
The raven paused in thought then raised his proud head to look at
Hans.
'My lad, you seem and honest and cheery boy, I'll give you some advice.
Turn from these woods now; go back to the sunlit parts of the forest
where men like you belong. For the creature you seek is the most evil
of beasts. She will invite you into her lair with words that drip milk
and honey but once you're deep inside she will turn on you and make you
a meal for her hordes of hungry children. She'll never give you the
stone; your father is doomed, save yourself at least.'
Hans sighed wearily.
'Aye she may not willingly give up the stone, still I must try, for my
father is the only family I have and is very dear to me.'
The raven shook his head, but saw Hans was quite determined so told
him the shortest way to Magora's lair. He thanked the bird and was
about to be on his way when the raven called out to him.
'If indeed you mean to follow Magora into her trap then I will tell you
of a secret way out of the cave she uses as her lair. My cousin the
Crow was once lucky enough to escape from there. He discovered a way
through to the other side of the mountain, a shortcut.' and so Hans
went on his way, following the raven's directions.
?..

At last he came upon a part of the forest where the trees grew so tall
their intertwined branches blocked any light from reaching the ground
below. Here there was an unnatural silence, broken only by the soft
soughing of a wind Hans could not feel.
Ahead lay a clearing, and from this clearing emanated a pale and
ghostly glow which seemed to create more shadows than it dispelled and
sapped the colour from Hans's hands as he held them to his face. This
was Magora's home, her lair, a trap from which few had escaped and none
had returned.
The clearing was large, but here again, the branches of the
surrounding trees loomed over to create a permanent twilight. In the
center of the clearing, on an enormous and skillfully spun web, sat a
pale large bodied spider, bigger than any spider Hans had seen before.
The ethereal light seemed to emanate from both the spider and her web.
Tiny sparkling lights were embedded in the strands, as if the stars
themselves had been caught. The sight was beautiful to behold, but Hans
knew that there was much danger here, for Magora was as wise and as
cunning as she was evil.

As Hans trod carefully toward her, she paused from her work, raising
her bulbous head. Even though her back was turned toward him, she
seemed to sense Hans's presence long before she could hear the rustle
of leaves under his boots.
'You are either a very brave or a very foolish young man,' she spoke,
her voice like the sound of the wind through the trees.
'Your quest must be important, none have been brave enough to venture
into my lair for centuries,' she said as she turned on her web toward
Hans.
'I have come to ask you for the Witch-white herb you keep in your lair,
so that I might save my ailing father from a most painful end.' Though
Han's spoke with a voice that was strong and clear, inside he shook
with fear at the thought of what he must do.
'Ah yesss?' She cooed as she crawled down a long strand to the ground,
making her way toward Hans with slow and deliberate steps.
'My Witch-white herb, a most potent cure-all,' she soothed as she
crawled closer with a tick, tick, ticking of her legs over the rocks
and stones. At last she stopped in front of Hans, her fat body resting
on the ground and her spindly legs moving restlessly over the pebbles
and leaves. She silently observed him with her eight dark eyes, her
sharp black fangs glistening ominously in the pale light.
'If you want the Witch-white, you must follow me down into my lair
where it's kept. There I will give it to you and you may be on your
way.' She stared at Hans a moment longer before turning toward the edge
of the clearing and crawling in the direction of a drifting curtain of
spider silk.
'Follow me?' her words echoed round the forest like a hundred
whispering voices. Hans could no nothing but obey her.
?..

He followed her through the maze of drifting silken curtains, which
undulated in the gentle breeze, caressing his cheeks and hinting at
sweet promises. Ever further into the silken maze and deeper into the
spider's lair he followed her, all the while a sense of dread spread
round his heart like frost round a stone.
They stopped at the mouth of a silk lined tunnel leading into the
depths of the mountain. Magora turned to Hans.
'Everything you have heard about me is untrue,' she told him, watching
him intently with her alien eyes.
'Stories grow and change; legends both true and false become set in
stone. I am not the fiend you think I am.' She turned to resume her
descent, her body slipping out of sight through the tunnel
entrance.
'Follow me?..' her voice echoed up to him.

Down, down into the depths he followed Magora. The silk lining of the
tunnel became stained with dirt and slick with dripping water until at
last they came to a gloomy cavern. The spider crawled to some long
shelves containing strange and gruesome things, which lined the wall.
She reached up with her spindly legs to the top shelf and brought down
a stone. Magora removed the stone's lid and held the contents aloft,
Hans caught a scent, reminding him of the smell of wood rotting in the
dampness and darkness.
'Now tell me,' said Magora, placing the Witch-White back into the
stone, 'What made you think I would give you the last of my precious
cure-all?' She studied him silently, the rasping of her legs over the
stone floor and the soft rustling of her children on the walls the only
sounds in the dank cave.
Hans was afraid, more afraid then he had ever been in his life, but he
knew what he must do.
'Oh no Mistress, you have misunderstood me,' he began 'I know your
cure-all is more precious than gold. I mean to exchange it with
something equally as precious.' With this he brought from his knapsack
the pot where he had placed the fireflies, opening the lid partway. In
the gloom of the cave, the flickering green light was magical in its
brilliance. Magora gasped, she had never seen light with such an
unearthly hue.
'This pot was given to me by my father, and his father before him, and
so on into the mists of the past where it was created from the very
matter that time itself is made of.'
'This pot contains within it a means of looking into the future, a way
of seeing what is to come. Surely such a thing is also more precious
than gold?' Hans asked, holding the pot in his outstretched arms.
The ancient spider was a wise and canny creature, she had survived for
so long because of her wits and her ability to see through the tricks
and traps that men laid for her. But with his promise of magic and
power, Hans had struck at the very heart of her greed, an all-consuming
passion, and the reason she stood before him a hideous and misshapen
creature. Greed clutched at her heart; it numbed her thoughts and
smothered her suspicions. To possess the ability to predict the future
would be a power beyond measure, a priceless treasure. She crawled
forward, bringing the stone and the Witch-White herb with her.
'I'll give you this magical pot, I ask in return only the Witch-White
herb and safe passage from here to my home,' Hans said as Magora
crawled ever closer. When she heard his bargain she laughed, a
terrifying chittering sound, her fangs moving up and down.
'I will give you the cure-all in exchange for your magical pot,' she
said.
She did not intend to let Hans go, he would make a fine meal for her
many children, but the pot and its promising green glow intrigued her.
There was no way Hans could escape she mused, for the silk-lined tunnel
was a trapdoor's trap and only she knew of the secret tunnel which led
to the outside and to freedom.
Hans handed Magora the pot and she handed him the Witch White herb,
certain she would take it back when he became dinner for her hungry
hordes. Hans explained that to see the future she must stare into the
green glow until it swam through time to become visible.
Magora gazed into the pot, becoming entranced by the moving green
patterns. As she gazed into the glow, Hans inched as silently as he
could toward the stone shelves the Raven had told him concealed the
secret way to the surface. At last he felt a faint breeze coming from a
corner of the bottom shelf. A stone slab concealed the exit, but Hans
was small enough to slip through the gap without moving the stone and
alerting Magora.
Up through the rocky caves and massive caverns, Hans was on his way to
freedom. When he heard a cry of rage that echoed through the caves and
rang through the caverns, he knew he must hurry as fast as he could out
of the mountain and away from Magora's fury.
?..

The pot smashed into a thousand pieces on the cold stone floor, the
furious spider's scream still echoing around her lair, mixing with the
agitated rustling and squeaking of her children. Magora turned upon
Hans, only to discover he'd disappeared. There was only one way he
could have escaped, so she wrenched the stone slab aside and began the
chase, racing with lightning speed through the tunnel.
Hans ran through the dark forest, holding tightly to the stone
containing the witch white herb. The branches of the gnarled trees
whipped nastily at his face, their roots threatened to trip him, but on
he ran, knowing full well that to stumble and fall now would spell his
end.
Faster and faster Magora scuttled through the Great Forest after Hans.
She knew these parts well and could track Hans by the trail he left
through the undergrowth. There was no way he could outrun her, the gap
between them was closing quickly.
Past the rock at the edge of the cliff Hans raced, he was now in the
parts of the forest he knew by heart, but he had to think quickly, for
he could hear Magora behind him and sense her boiling rage though he
dare not look back. He knew it was only a matter of time before she was
upon him.
He came at last to a fern-filled hollow where he had played as a child,
to his right was a small cave big enough to hide a single person,
hidden in the long green fern fronds. He ran quickly to the other side
of the hollow, disturbing the ferns there, leaving a false trail. As
soon as he was finished he raced back to the cave and hid there among
the mossy rocks.
He did not have long to wait, for Magora's speed had closed the
distance so much that she was almost upon him. From his hiding place he
saw her ugly form scuttle past toward the trail he had left.
He heard her climb the small slope toward the thick undergrowth and
heard the rustle of the branches as she tore through them in angry
pursuit.
What he did next took all the courage he could muster.
Climbing hurriedly out of his hiding place, he ran up the slope of the
hollow to where Magora was furiously thrashing about in the undergrowth
searching for him. She did not hear him creep up behind her, and when
she finally sensed his presence it was too late, for Hans had led her
to the very edge of a cliff whose bottom was the deep lake where his
father Dragor collected the clay. Magora had just enough time to
realise her mistake before Hans pushed her over the edge with all his
might, sending her plunging helplessly down the cliff and into the
lake, her body sinking through the murky waters to the rocky bottom
below.
?..

Hans crawled exhausted to the edge of the cliff, poking his head out to
see the ripples Magora had made with her fall. Pausing not a moment
longer, he turned and ran down the hill to the cottage where his father
lay in a deathlike sleep. When he burst through the cottage door, the
healer woman gasped in surprise. She had never imagined Hans would
return and had laid out the funeral wreath and perfumed shroud,
awaiting Dragor's death. When she saw he carried the Witch-white herb,
she wasted no time in making a concoction and administering it to
Dragor, who lay white and rigid.
Within minutes, colour and softness had returned to Dragor's cheeks and
his eyes slowly fluttered open. Both Hans and the healer woman cried
tears of joy and danced around the little cottage.
?..
The funeral wreath became a garland of spring flowers and the perfumed
shroud was dyed sky blue and laid as a tablecloth for a huge feast in
celebration of Dragor's health and Magora's demise. The whole village
laughed, danced, ate and sang in the valley for three whole days. The
ever-present pall of darkness, which hung over the forest, was lifted,
if only for a little while, and all were contented.
?..

However, Dear Reader, we are reminded that other creatures still lurk
in the deeper parts of the Great Forest, some more sinister than the
ancient and evil spider that is no more. We must also remember that a
spider's children can be independent of their mothers the instant they
hatch, and that somewhere, deep in the Great Forest, Magora's children
are still living, growing?waiting.