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edenfallingI have decided, out of the infinite goodness of my heart, to grace this portion of the digital realm with some of my earlier works of genius.
In other words, I can't think of anywhere else to post some of my old original stories, so I'm inflicting them on the world via this journal. This one's called "Bluebell," because it's about a girl named Bluebell and titles are not my strong point. If you must know the plot, it's kind of a backwards retelling of one version of the firebird fairy tale... not the one with Koschei the Heartless and the stone statues, but the one where the prince has to find three treasures with the aid of a talking fox (and he keeps screwing up, because otherwise there wouldn't be much of a story).
So here we go. And please forgive the parentheses; this was a bit of a stylistic experiment as well as my first attempt at something light and semi-fluffy.
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Chapter One: Florissant
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Once upon a time in the kingdom of Florissant, a princess was born with a destiny. In those days, destinies were more formal than today: a glittering scroll appeared at a child's naming, telling her future in great detail and paying no mind to anyone's wishes. Farmers' sons were sent to enchanted lands across the sea, though they wanted to grow wheat and look after their parents. Merchants' daughters were torn from their families and thrust into midnight balls, though they wanted to keep accounts and raise children. Nobody knew who sent the scrolls, but now and again they appeared (to everyone's dismay).
Bluebell's destiny (all the princesses of Florissant were named after flowers; it was traditional) was to live in an ivory tower from her twelfth birthday until a prince traded her to the king of Murlee for the horse that could outrun the wind. (The horse, mind you, had not yet been born, but destinies were not to be argued with.)
King Dunstan and Queen Eleanor of Florissant were naturally upset, and they refused to tell Bluebell of her destiny. For her first seven years, she didn't know she had one. And for a time, the king and queen thought they might have sidestepped the destiny.
After all, a princess (no matter how beautiful) whose kingdom is only a small mountain valley is not generally considered a fair trade for a horse that can outrun the wind, particularly not by the king of Murlee, who had refined tastes and an eye for a bargain.
But on Bluebell's seventh birthday, while she was in the stables admiring the plow horses, the riding horses, and her father's one warhorse, a stable boy asked her if she would take a horse to the ivory tower.
"What ivory tower?" she asked, but he didn't know. She decided to ask her parents. She found them in the room behind the great hall (which was mostly a glorified dining room), talking about taxes with their ministers, and waited outside the door until they finished.
"What are you doing here, Bluebell?" her father asked after the ministers had filed out. He was very tall and imposing and talked in a deep, rumbling voice (he was the king, and kings must be impressive) but he was also her father, so Bluebell didn't mind.
"I want to know about the ivory tower," she said.
The king and queen looked at each other. Queen Eleanor was short and round, but still pretty (queens do not have to be so impressive as kings, which is a great relief to most of them) and she was much beloved by all of Florissant, including her five children. "Oh dear," she said. "We had hoped you wouldn't have to know about that."
"I want to know," said Bluebell.
The king and queen exchanged another look. Dunstan sighed. "Bluebell, you're the princess of the ivory tower," he said. "You'll live in the ivory tower on Lookfar Mountain from your twelfth birthday until a prince dredges our moat and lines it with stones in one night. He'll be able to open the door, and he'll take you to Murlee to trade for the horse that can outrun the wind (which will doubtless have been born by then)."
Bluebell considered this. "What if I won't go?"
"Then a plague or famine will fall on Florissant, or a magical creature will kidnap you and drag you there, I suppose," said Eleanor. "That's the way these things usually work. But we'll visit you whenever we can. If you take a rope, we should be able to send things up to a window even if we can't open the door."
Dunstan hugged Bluebell. "We hoped the destiny was a mistake," he said. "We didn't want to upset you, so we didn't tell you before. We didn't want to lose you. We love you very much." Eleanor hugged her too.
Bluebell let her parents hold her for a minute, then asked, "May I be alone now?"
"Yes," said her father, and kissed her. He and Eleanor left the room.
Bluebell went outside and sat by the moat for a while, arms wrapped around her knees. She watched frogs jumping in the shallows, a thin blue heron swaying gently in the cattails and rushes, a family of ducks paddling in the green water, and dragonflies humming lazily through the afternoon heat. After a time, the heron stabbed downwards and rose with a frog in its beak. Bluebell watched as it flew west, toward Murlee. Then she went in.
At dinner she laughed with her brothers and sisters and fed her beans to the dogs, which the king and queen pretended not to notice. They were relieved she was happy. They put her to bed with their other children, kissed her, told her a bed-time story, and wished her sweet dreams.
Bluebell smiled at her parents, but she stared into the darkness a long time before she slept.
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Chapter Two: The Princess of the Ivory Tower
---------------------------------------------
The week before her twelfth birthday, Bluebell packed various useful and comforting things (clothes, books, rope, candles, brushes, a cup, and her rag doll, to name a few) into two large baskets and said goodbye to her friends. On her birthday she rode east toward Lookfar Mountain, with the king and queen, her three brothers, her four sisters, and various family friends. The people watched in silence. Nobody expected to see her again.
The ivory tower stood in a clearing halfway up the mountain. It was two hundred feet tall, very pale and thin. There was only one door, which had no lock and no doorknob. Inside, a spiral staircase led upwards into the tower, lit only by tiny windows every ten feet. They were far too small for a person to slip through.
Bluebell hugged her family. "Goodbye," she said. "Please do visit."
"Of course we'll visit," said Eleanor. "It's most likely an enchanted tower and will provide food (we won't leave until you check the pantry and tell us if we'll have to bring you food and such-like) but enchantments aren't much company. And we'll miss you. I'm sure we'll be back within the week." Dunstan nodded.
Bluebell smiled. She lifted her baskets (which were surprisingly light, to hold all she would want for the next several years) and walked through the door. It slammed behind her with a boom and a loud click, as of a bolt sliding home. "Well then," she said to the darkness of the stairway. "I hope this prince doesn't take too long."
The ivory tower held three rooms, each occupying an entire floor. The first was almost halfway up the tower, eighty feet at least. That was the kitchen. The pantry was indeed enchanted and would provide any food or drink asked for, so long as it was in season. The room also held a large wooden tub for baths and laundry.
The second floor was the bedroom and privy, perhaps a hundred and fifty feet high. The sheets hadn't been washed in years, and the privy stank. Bluebell dropped her baskets on the floor, shut the privy door, and held her nose as she walked up the stairs.
The third floor, at the top of the tower, had wide windows on two sides. The room held a small desk and chair, a loom, an easel, and several embroidery frames, some of which still held work from the last princess to live in the tower. (She had not been handy with a needle.)
Bluebell found the tower comfortable enough and soon settled into a routine. Each morning she rose with the sun and ran up and down the stairs five times to keep from getting lazy. Then she ate, bathed, and began her day's work.
Sometimes she sewed. Sometimes she painted or embroidered. Sometimes she read novels or studied. (She was particularly fond of astronomy and spent hours cataloging stars and tracking planets.) She had lunch at noon, then took a brief nap. After dinner she said her prayers, watched the sky, and slept.
One morning in June, shortly after her fifteenth birthday (for which her entire family visited and had a picnic lunch in the clearing), Bluebell noticed a fox sitting under her workroom window. It occurred to her that she had seen the fox before and that it did not act like a proper fox. She leaned out of the window and studied it.
"It's generally considered impolite to stare," the fox said, and coughed dryly.
"Aah!" cried Bluebell, jumping backwards and tripping over her chair. She scrambled to her feet and rushed back to the window. The fox (which was thin, reddish-brown, and generally nondescript) still sat beneath the tower. "Did you talk?" she asked. "You did, didn't you. I heard you quite distinctly."
The fox twitched its tail. "Yes. I'm a magical fox."
"That was fairly obvious," said Bluebell. "Normal foxes don't talk."
"This is true. But then, you never can tell what humans know, if you'll pardon my saying so. It's best to be safe and tell them everything, at least at first." The fox shrugged (which looked exceedingly odd) and twitched its ears. "You're the princess of the ivory tower?"
"I should think that was also obvious. Who are you and why do you care?"
"Ah. Why do I care? That is the question, isn't it." The fox rubbed its ear with a paw. "It was nice to meet you, Princess. Have a good afternoon." It walked out of the clearing, twitching its tail.
"Wait!" said Bluebell. "You can't say that and leave! Come back here and explain yourself."
The fox turned. "Why?"
"Why what?" Bluebell asked. "Must you be so mysterious? It's very irritating."
"I suppose not, but it amuses me," said the fox. "I'm the fox who helps princes find the firebird. I've been doing that for centuries. They never listen to my advice (though I suppose they can't help being foolish; it's their destiny) and they end up with complications, including the princess of the ivory tower. That would be you."
"So you know a way to dredge and pave my father's moat in one night?"
The fox tilted its ears. "Really? Dredging a moat? Usually it's moving a mountain someone finds inconvenient. Your father sounds much more sensible than most kings I've dealt with. What kingdom did you say you came from?"
"I didn't say, but I'm from Florissant. It's half a day west of here, down in the valley where the Laughing River runs. There's a trail from when my family visits me." Bluebell pointed the direction to the fox. "I think it's lovely, but it's not a very big kingdom. We haven't any mountains."
"I see," said the fox. "Your father wants his moat dredged and paved and your family visits you -- I think I should have a look at this Florissant. It has been a pleasure to meet you, Princess."
"You may call me Bluebell," said Bluebell. "Please don't steal chickens while you visit Florissant, and give my love to my family if you see them."
"I doubt I will," said the fox.
Bluebell shrugged. "In that case I wish you a good journey. Will you visit again?"
"I might," said the fox. "Good afternoon, Bluebell." It bowed and trotted out of the clearing.
"Goodbye, fox," Bluebell said.
She picked up her fallen chair and rested her head in her hands, thinking about the future. Would it be against her destiny to make the prince rescue her from the king of Murlee? It probably would be. Bother. She didn't want to live with the king of Murlee. He had buried six wives and driven his only son into exile, and no one had ever seen his daughters.
Drat the fox! She'd almost managed to forget about the prince, the king of Murlee, and the horse that could outrun the wind (which had finally been born last winter) and now she couldn't think of anything else.
Bluebell did not sleep well that night.
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Continue to chapters 3 and 4
---------------------------------------------
There are nine chapters in all, but as you can see they're quite short. This story was written as a Christmas present, after all, a couple years back when I'd blown all my discretionary money on a complete set of Neil Gaiman's Sandman, so I couldn't make it too long.
In other words, I can't think of anywhere else to post some of my old original stories, so I'm inflicting them on the world via this journal. This one's called "Bluebell," because it's about a girl named Bluebell and titles are not my strong point. If you must know the plot, it's kind of a backwards retelling of one version of the firebird fairy tale... not the one with Koschei the Heartless and the stone statues, but the one where the prince has to find three treasures with the aid of a talking fox (and he keeps screwing up, because otherwise there wouldn't be much of a story).
So here we go. And please forgive the parentheses; this was a bit of a stylistic experiment as well as my first attempt at something light and semi-fluffy.
---------------------------------------------
Chapter One: Florissant
---------------------------------------------
Once upon a time in the kingdom of Florissant, a princess was born with a destiny. In those days, destinies were more formal than today: a glittering scroll appeared at a child's naming, telling her future in great detail and paying no mind to anyone's wishes. Farmers' sons were sent to enchanted lands across the sea, though they wanted to grow wheat and look after their parents. Merchants' daughters were torn from their families and thrust into midnight balls, though they wanted to keep accounts and raise children. Nobody knew who sent the scrolls, but now and again they appeared (to everyone's dismay).
Bluebell's destiny (all the princesses of Florissant were named after flowers; it was traditional) was to live in an ivory tower from her twelfth birthday until a prince traded her to the king of Murlee for the horse that could outrun the wind. (The horse, mind you, had not yet been born, but destinies were not to be argued with.)
King Dunstan and Queen Eleanor of Florissant were naturally upset, and they refused to tell Bluebell of her destiny. For her first seven years, she didn't know she had one. And for a time, the king and queen thought they might have sidestepped the destiny.
After all, a princess (no matter how beautiful) whose kingdom is only a small mountain valley is not generally considered a fair trade for a horse that can outrun the wind, particularly not by the king of Murlee, who had refined tastes and an eye for a bargain.
But on Bluebell's seventh birthday, while she was in the stables admiring the plow horses, the riding horses, and her father's one warhorse, a stable boy asked her if she would take a horse to the ivory tower.
"What ivory tower?" she asked, but he didn't know. She decided to ask her parents. She found them in the room behind the great hall (which was mostly a glorified dining room), talking about taxes with their ministers, and waited outside the door until they finished.
"What are you doing here, Bluebell?" her father asked after the ministers had filed out. He was very tall and imposing and talked in a deep, rumbling voice (he was the king, and kings must be impressive) but he was also her father, so Bluebell didn't mind.
"I want to know about the ivory tower," she said.
The king and queen looked at each other. Queen Eleanor was short and round, but still pretty (queens do not have to be so impressive as kings, which is a great relief to most of them) and she was much beloved by all of Florissant, including her five children. "Oh dear," she said. "We had hoped you wouldn't have to know about that."
"I want to know," said Bluebell.
The king and queen exchanged another look. Dunstan sighed. "Bluebell, you're the princess of the ivory tower," he said. "You'll live in the ivory tower on Lookfar Mountain from your twelfth birthday until a prince dredges our moat and lines it with stones in one night. He'll be able to open the door, and he'll take you to Murlee to trade for the horse that can outrun the wind (which will doubtless have been born by then)."
Bluebell considered this. "What if I won't go?"
"Then a plague or famine will fall on Florissant, or a magical creature will kidnap you and drag you there, I suppose," said Eleanor. "That's the way these things usually work. But we'll visit you whenever we can. If you take a rope, we should be able to send things up to a window even if we can't open the door."
Dunstan hugged Bluebell. "We hoped the destiny was a mistake," he said. "We didn't want to upset you, so we didn't tell you before. We didn't want to lose you. We love you very much." Eleanor hugged her too.
Bluebell let her parents hold her for a minute, then asked, "May I be alone now?"
"Yes," said her father, and kissed her. He and Eleanor left the room.
Bluebell went outside and sat by the moat for a while, arms wrapped around her knees. She watched frogs jumping in the shallows, a thin blue heron swaying gently in the cattails and rushes, a family of ducks paddling in the green water, and dragonflies humming lazily through the afternoon heat. After a time, the heron stabbed downwards and rose with a frog in its beak. Bluebell watched as it flew west, toward Murlee. Then she went in.
At dinner she laughed with her brothers and sisters and fed her beans to the dogs, which the king and queen pretended not to notice. They were relieved she was happy. They put her to bed with their other children, kissed her, told her a bed-time story, and wished her sweet dreams.
Bluebell smiled at her parents, but she stared into the darkness a long time before she slept.
---------------------------------------------
Chapter Two: The Princess of the Ivory Tower
---------------------------------------------
The week before her twelfth birthday, Bluebell packed various useful and comforting things (clothes, books, rope, candles, brushes, a cup, and her rag doll, to name a few) into two large baskets and said goodbye to her friends. On her birthday she rode east toward Lookfar Mountain, with the king and queen, her three brothers, her four sisters, and various family friends. The people watched in silence. Nobody expected to see her again.
The ivory tower stood in a clearing halfway up the mountain. It was two hundred feet tall, very pale and thin. There was only one door, which had no lock and no doorknob. Inside, a spiral staircase led upwards into the tower, lit only by tiny windows every ten feet. They were far too small for a person to slip through.
Bluebell hugged her family. "Goodbye," she said. "Please do visit."
"Of course we'll visit," said Eleanor. "It's most likely an enchanted tower and will provide food (we won't leave until you check the pantry and tell us if we'll have to bring you food and such-like) but enchantments aren't much company. And we'll miss you. I'm sure we'll be back within the week." Dunstan nodded.
Bluebell smiled. She lifted her baskets (which were surprisingly light, to hold all she would want for the next several years) and walked through the door. It slammed behind her with a boom and a loud click, as of a bolt sliding home. "Well then," she said to the darkness of the stairway. "I hope this prince doesn't take too long."
The ivory tower held three rooms, each occupying an entire floor. The first was almost halfway up the tower, eighty feet at least. That was the kitchen. The pantry was indeed enchanted and would provide any food or drink asked for, so long as it was in season. The room also held a large wooden tub for baths and laundry.
The second floor was the bedroom and privy, perhaps a hundred and fifty feet high. The sheets hadn't been washed in years, and the privy stank. Bluebell dropped her baskets on the floor, shut the privy door, and held her nose as she walked up the stairs.
The third floor, at the top of the tower, had wide windows on two sides. The room held a small desk and chair, a loom, an easel, and several embroidery frames, some of which still held work from the last princess to live in the tower. (She had not been handy with a needle.)
Bluebell found the tower comfortable enough and soon settled into a routine. Each morning she rose with the sun and ran up and down the stairs five times to keep from getting lazy. Then she ate, bathed, and began her day's work.
Sometimes she sewed. Sometimes she painted or embroidered. Sometimes she read novels or studied. (She was particularly fond of astronomy and spent hours cataloging stars and tracking planets.) She had lunch at noon, then took a brief nap. After dinner she said her prayers, watched the sky, and slept.
One morning in June, shortly after her fifteenth birthday (for which her entire family visited and had a picnic lunch in the clearing), Bluebell noticed a fox sitting under her workroom window. It occurred to her that she had seen the fox before and that it did not act like a proper fox. She leaned out of the window and studied it.
"It's generally considered impolite to stare," the fox said, and coughed dryly.
"Aah!" cried Bluebell, jumping backwards and tripping over her chair. She scrambled to her feet and rushed back to the window. The fox (which was thin, reddish-brown, and generally nondescript) still sat beneath the tower. "Did you talk?" she asked. "You did, didn't you. I heard you quite distinctly."
The fox twitched its tail. "Yes. I'm a magical fox."
"That was fairly obvious," said Bluebell. "Normal foxes don't talk."
"This is true. But then, you never can tell what humans know, if you'll pardon my saying so. It's best to be safe and tell them everything, at least at first." The fox shrugged (which looked exceedingly odd) and twitched its ears. "You're the princess of the ivory tower?"
"I should think that was also obvious. Who are you and why do you care?"
"Ah. Why do I care? That is the question, isn't it." The fox rubbed its ear with a paw. "It was nice to meet you, Princess. Have a good afternoon." It walked out of the clearing, twitching its tail.
"Wait!" said Bluebell. "You can't say that and leave! Come back here and explain yourself."
The fox turned. "Why?"
"Why what?" Bluebell asked. "Must you be so mysterious? It's very irritating."
"I suppose not, but it amuses me," said the fox. "I'm the fox who helps princes find the firebird. I've been doing that for centuries. They never listen to my advice (though I suppose they can't help being foolish; it's their destiny) and they end up with complications, including the princess of the ivory tower. That would be you."
"So you know a way to dredge and pave my father's moat in one night?"
The fox tilted its ears. "Really? Dredging a moat? Usually it's moving a mountain someone finds inconvenient. Your father sounds much more sensible than most kings I've dealt with. What kingdom did you say you came from?"
"I didn't say, but I'm from Florissant. It's half a day west of here, down in the valley where the Laughing River runs. There's a trail from when my family visits me." Bluebell pointed the direction to the fox. "I think it's lovely, but it's not a very big kingdom. We haven't any mountains."
"I see," said the fox. "Your father wants his moat dredged and paved and your family visits you -- I think I should have a look at this Florissant. It has been a pleasure to meet you, Princess."
"You may call me Bluebell," said Bluebell. "Please don't steal chickens while you visit Florissant, and give my love to my family if you see them."
"I doubt I will," said the fox.
Bluebell shrugged. "In that case I wish you a good journey. Will you visit again?"
"I might," said the fox. "Good afternoon, Bluebell." It bowed and trotted out of the clearing.
"Goodbye, fox," Bluebell said.
She picked up her fallen chair and rested her head in her hands, thinking about the future. Would it be against her destiny to make the prince rescue her from the king of Murlee? It probably would be. Bother. She didn't want to live with the king of Murlee. He had buried six wives and driven his only son into exile, and no one had ever seen his daughters.
Drat the fox! She'd almost managed to forget about the prince, the king of Murlee, and the horse that could outrun the wind (which had finally been born last winter) and now she couldn't think of anything else.
Bluebell did not sleep well that night.
---------------------------------------------
Continue to chapters 3 and 4
---------------------------------------------
There are nine chapters in all, but as you can see they're quite short. This story was written as a Christmas present, after all, a couple years back when I'd blown all my discretionary money on a complete set of Neil Gaiman's Sandman, so I couldn't make it too long.
