A Frozen Tale, Pt. 1

Transcript

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, it was always winter. The castle and its surrounding villages sat low in the shadow of the northern mountains, blanketed with snow and buffeted by icy winds. When the clouds broke, and they seldom did, even the sun felt cold.

Its pale light illuminated, but the warmth of its rays never blessed the townsfolk. Some whispered that the land was cursed, but only the brashest among them spoke their minds freely, usually bolstered by the bitter ale in the tavern. An evil witch, that's what she is, if you want the truth, some one or other would say.

We all know it. There used to be springs and summers and autumns, now there's only blasted winter. The king married a princess from God knows where, kicked it not five years later, she becomes queen, now it's only ice, snow, frozen feet and blighted crops, year after year.

You lot suppose she had nothing to do with it? The tavern guests would then add their own theories, or shake their heads, or warn against the queen's guard. But always the moment came when they had to ask each other, when will the winter end? Would it ever end? The years went on.

The winter remained. One frigid morning a travelling merchant staggered up to the castle gates. Their pack was heavy, and they weren't expecting snow this time of year.

Their shoes, stuffed with paper, were soaked through. The air felt strange to them, and the villagers were unfriendly and suspicious. The cold travelled up through their feet, down from their head, wrapped around them like a viper, and bit at their fingers, their nose, the tips of their ears.

Hailing the guards, the merchant begged an audience with the queen. "'It comes such a very long way,' they pleaded. "'I know what I have to offer will greatly please Her Majesty.

If I'm wrong, throw me out into the cold. I'm half dead from it already. "'I'm sure a night in these streets will finish the job for you.'" After a thorough search of their pack for weapons and poison, the merchant was granted passage into the castle.

The walls were high. The halls were made of glass. Chandeliers hung, all dripping with diamonds and pearls.

The merchant's footsteps echoed wetly. Approaching the throne room, surrounded by courtiers and guards, the queen sat upon her throne, draped in furs and diamonds and disdain. "'Speak, traveller,' bellowed a guard from behind the merchant, making them jump.

The queen did not speak, but regarded them coolly. The merchant began to sell their wares as only they knew how. They spoke of fairy-made clothing, magical instruments to delight the senses, plates made of dragon scales, and asked the queen what would she like to see first.

The queen said nothing. The courtiers tittered. In truth, the merchant's voice and body shivered and shook, as much of a fear as from the cold.

But on they went. They presented each of their wares with enthusiasm and flair, and the courtiers clapped, eventually, in amusement. Soon the merchant felt emboldened, and so addressed the queen directly.

"'I couldn't help but notice the weather is unseasonably cold. Would your majesty be interested in a muff lined with phoenix feathers?' The room stilled slightly. The weather was a sore point at court.

"'No, I would not.' The queen's voice was sharp enough to cut. "'Begging pardon,' the merchant continued. The beauty of their wonders that emerged from their pack was a stuff of legends, but the queen remained unimpressed.

Finally, the merchant produced from their pack an intricate tapestry. It showed a midsummer festival, women dancing around a maypole, butterflies in the air, the sun beating down on their brown shoulders. The throne room fell silent.

The ribbons tied to the maypole seemed to move in an invisible breeze. One could almost hear the laughter of the dancing ladies, and most importantly the sun, huge and glittering in gold thread, gave such a sense of warmth that the queen rose to her feet. "'What is this?' "'Elves crafted it,' explained the merchant.

"'It has old magic,' they say. Some tell me that it holds the essence of spring, the promise of summer. Is it not beautiful?' The queen demanded that the merchant stay and explain all they knew of whatever magic brought warmth back into her throne room.

The story of the festival and the elves came from the merchant's lips, then another story of springtime and another of summer. Soon the morning turned to afternoon and afternoon to night. The stories went on and on, only stopping for the queen to order new clothes and food for her new guest.

When night fell, the merchant was invited back to one of the guest chambers, and in the morning the queen was insatiable in her curiosity, demanding story after story of the merchant and their travels and the magics they'd encountered. One day turned into two, two days turned into a week. The merchant had travelled widely, and the queen was looking for an answer.

This was part one of A Frozen Fairy Tale. Tune in tomorrow for part two.