Short Fairy Tales 1: The Singing Princess

Once upon a time, a long time ago, in a little village, a poor peasant farmer’s wife gave birth to seven children; all of them girls.

“Seven daughters? Not one son?”, despaired their father, “And seven children? How can we afford to look after so many?”.

But then a horrid little creature, part toad and part man with a tiny granite-grey horn at the tip of its crooked nose and a long curly tail like a corkscrew bounded in through an open window.

“I could not help but overhear your dilemma as I was passing”, said the creature which called itself a Boglin and then it offered the man a sparkling mountain of riches if he would give the creature one of his daughters.

The poor man was reluctant at first about the idea of selling one of his beautiful daughters to such a repulsive creature but then, the more he pondered the proposition, the more he came to the conclusion that a rich man could give a better life to six daughters than a poor man could to seven and so he agreed to give the creature one of his daughters and, closing his eyes and picking at random, he picked a little red haired girl with bright green eyes whom his wife had named Sandrina.

Then, fetching a vast sack of gold and jewels that it normally would have taken four men to carry, the creature emptied it onto the floor of the man’s simple dwelling and the pile of treasure was so great that its pinnacle pressed against the ceiling.

The Boglin then picked up the infant Sandrina and, giggling with wicked glee, hurried away with her, taking her back to his invisible lair deep in a dense, dark forest and, for many years, she worked as his slave; cleaning and cooking for him and darning his smelly, stripy socks when his clawed feet made holes in them.

But, one warm moonlit night, the Boglin went out with his sack to rob and burgle and steal as Boglins usually do, leaving Sandrina alone and, as she always did whenever she was feeling lonely and sad, Sandrina started to sing a song; one of the little songs she’d made up, to keep her spirits buoyant.

“Freedom is waiting for me,
a life like the birds in the branches;
a life that is joyous not anxious
is waiting for me, you’ll see.

Freedom is waiting for me,
a life like the breeze through trees swaying;
the life for which I have been praying
is waiting patiently”.

And, as she was singing, just at that very moment, a travelling troubadour, dressed in a brightly coloured patchwork suit, was wandering through the forest, strumming his lute and listening to the happy chirping of the birds when he heard Sandrina’s song.

Stunned by the beautiful singing he stopped his strumming and cupped his ear to hear better and, mesmerized by the lovely sweetness of Sandrina’s voice, he found himself falling instantly and hopelessly in love.

But, because the Boglin’s house was invisible, he could not see where the singing was coming from.

“What angel dwells in this forest?”, he wondered to himself, “Who could be making that wonderous sound that so delights my heart?”.

And desperate to know the answer, he called out, “Where are you? Where are you sweet, wonderful, melodious maiden? Surely I cannot be dreaming your voice”.

Then, from within the confines of her invisible prison, Sandrina heard the sound of the troubadour calling and her heart leapt.

“Someone is calling to me from beyond”, she thought and, pressing her mouth close to the wall of the boglin’s house called back, laughing and tearful with happiness, “I’m here! I’m here!”.

Now the troubadour followed the sound of Sandrina’s voice as if it were a thread winding through the forest until he came to a clearing but, though her voice was becoming more loud and clear, he still could not see the woman calling him.

“I can hear you as clearly as if you were standing close to me and yet I cannot see you anywhere”, he said, looking round about him.

Sandrina explained to him then about how she was being held prisoner by the Boglin and how her prison was invisible to ordinary eyes.

“You must rescue me”, she pleaded, “Please. Before the Boglin comes home. It is almost dawn and the Boglin always comes home just as the sun is rising for he cannot bear the warmth or the light of the sun”.

Moved by Sandrina’s pitiful story, the troubadour then broke a branch from off a tree and waved it around him until it struck against one of the invisible walls of the Boglin’s lair and then, feeling with his fingers like a blind man, he found what felt like a door but, however he pushed or threw himself against it, he couldn’t break it down.

“It’s no good”, he sighed, exhausted, “I just don’t have the strength to break down the door”.

But Sandrina had waited far too long to give up hope so quickly, “The Boglin knows how to open it”, she said, “Wait until he has opened it and then you might have a chance”.

And so the troubadour hid himself amidst some trees and bushes and waited and it wasn’t long until he heard the Boglin returning, just as the sun was starting to creep over the horizon, it came bounding and leaping like a jumping frog through the forest, its sack full of rattling, tinkling ill gotten gold and jewels slung over one shoulder then, as it reached the invisible door of its dwelling, it took out some tailors chalk from its pocket and wrote these words upon it.

YES
EYE
SEE

Then, instantly, the invisible door started to appear, glowing brightly and opening infront of him.

“I’m home, daughter dear”, the toad like
creature bellowed, cackling evilly; not in the least bit suspecting that, at that moment, the troubadour would leap out at him shouting
“Villain!” and swinging his lute as if it were a sort of club to hit him over the head with.

As soon as the hideous creature saw the troubadour, it hissed and growled and grunted angrily, pouncing upon him with its sharp claws and snapping jaws full of crooked, yellow teeth and might well have overpowered him were it not for the now swiftly rising sun which was spreading its broad beams of light throughout the forest.

Fearing the approaching day, the Boglin turned and hurried to get into his house quickly; his scaly skin already starting to sizzle as it was struck by bright golden rays but, before it could escape or shut the door behind it, the troubadour seized hold of the end of its tail and pulled it back out into the sunlight and then, screeching and covering up its eyes, the horrid creature started to turn to smouldering cinders.

Then, atlast, after so many terrible years of being locked away in darkness, Sandrina stumbled warily out of the Boglins house into the light of day, shielding her eyes which were hurt by the suns brightness, and the troubadour was stunned into silence by what he saw, for Sandrina was as beautiful as her angelic voice.

“It is I who should shield my eyes”, said the Troubador, “Faced with the radiance of your beauty”.

Then the troubadour told Sandrina that his name was Prince Nerin . “My mother and father”, he told her, “Wanted to arrange a marriage for me to some spoiled princess but I refused. Instead I disguised myself as a wandering minstrel and ran away from my palace, swearing that I would wander the world until I had found my true love and.. now I have”.

Then Prince Nerin got down upon one knee and asked Sandrina if she would consent to become his Princess and live with him in his palace and, smiling, Sandrina looked down at him but shook her head from side to side, “I’m sorry but I don’t want to live ‘in’ anywhere. I dreamt for so long about being free and breathing the air, looking up at the sky, hearing the birds. I want to live under the open sky”.

“Then”, asked the Prince, “Would you consent to marry a wandering minstrel and travel the world with me though we may be poor and our lives difficult”.

Now Sandrina nodded, “I would “, she said.

And so, from that day on, they travelled the world together, the Prince strumming his lute and Sandrina singing and lived, as the saying goes, happily ever after.