Part 12

It is true that at this meeting, the elves, gnomes and kobolds were, some of them, so black and sooty, and smelled so strongly of smoke and fire, that the more dainty fairies in gauzy dresses did not like to sit near them. Besides this, some of the kobolds came with their leather aprons on, and altogether they were such real blacksmiths, that the doorkeeper did not want to admit them. At least, the water fairies thought, they might have taken off their aprons and washed up a little.

Biggest of all, at the assembly, were the frost giants, and one of these, who towered above all, was chosen, by a show of hands, to be president of the meeting. A half acre was allowed him to sit down upon. When ready to tap for order, he picked up a boulder, for a gavel, which weighed a ton or more. With this, he pounded on a flat rock. At the sound, all stopped talking, looked up and listened. One minute before, it was like the buzzing of bees. Now all was silence.

These frost giants, of whom a dozen or so were present, had ridden to the meeting each on his own avalanche, which he used for a bicycle. They all had long beards of icicles, that appeared like stalactites in a cave. Their big eyes looked, for all the world, like locomotive headlights, and some of the little fairies were afraid to look at them.

Their sabots, or wooden shoes, were hollowed out of whole trunks of fir trees, and when they walked they made an awful stamping noise. Their breath, like mist, rolled out in great clouds over the assembly, so that at times some of the fairies could not see the speaker and several felt very chilly. Their voices, in speaking, sounded like rolling thunder. When the president pounded with his gavel, some of the fairies, sitting at the edge of the crowd, thought an earthquake had taken place.

During the debate, when some of the frost giants lost their tempers, it seemed at times, as if they would hurl rocks at each other, or gobble up some of the smaller fairies, such as the elves, or Undines. In fact, the gentle flower fairies, that were very thinly clothed in gauzy dresses and loved warmth, shivered, when a frost giant came near them, and some almost cried, lest they should get frozen. In fact, one brave little fairy borrowed a white fur coat, made of edelweiss velvet, and boldly sat near the frost king—to the mingled fear, anxiety and admiration of her sisters. One of them even said she was “a pert hussy.”

On the other hand, one cunning summer fairy, with a fan of flowers in her hand, enticed a young frost giant to come and sit down beside her. Then she threw a spell over him, and he was so wrapped up in her charms, that she actually melted him with her beauty, so that when the meeting broke up, there was no frost giant there, but only a puddle of cold water; for that is what frost giants turn into, when the weather is too warm.

Each speaker mounted the platform, which was a big boulder, with a flat top. When any of the frost giants, who sat up in front, made a speech, it was noticed that, while there were gnomes and kobolds out on the edge of the audience, who shouted “Louder, Louder;” some of the gentler fairies, who were nearer, put up their hands to their ears, for fear of being deafened. It was hard to please all, and at one time, when there were too many on their feet and all wanted to talk at once, the president roared out that he would adjourn the meeting, if there was not better order.

As for the grotto girls, they were pointedly requested, several times, to stop whispering.

It was a pretty long session, for all were allowed to have their say, just as at a town meeting of mortals.

Yet when one of the big giants talked too long, or when a lovely and pretty fairy wandered in her thoughts, and prattled too much, without saying anything, the whole company coughed him, or her, down. After all, nothing much came of the meeting, for they could not agree.

Here the president of the meeting pounded hard, to call the long-winded fairy to order, lest he might keep on for a week. It would soon be sunrise, when they must all scamper.

So, at the first streak of light, in the east, down came the gavel of the president, with a force that split the rock, and, before half of those who wanted to speak, had opened their mouths, the congress was adjourned.

XIX

THE PALACE UNDER THE WAVES

Fashions change in the fairy world, as well as among mortals who live on the earth. The Swiss water fairies, called Undines, at times grew tired of living down below the surface of the lakes and rivers. When restless, they longed to mingle in the village gatherings. They wanted to hear the lively music of the young men and maidens, as they sang and danced. Their favorite time for waltzes and cotillions was on moonlight nights.

So it became quite common, at these times, for the fairy maids and swains to swim up to the shore. Then these Undines changed themselves into girls and young men. They put on clothes, that were deep green, the color of the waves. Slipping in among the dancers, they joined in the fun and merry making. In this manner, many a lad romped with a water fairy and even kissed her, thinking she was or might be his sweetheart; for, in the dim light of the moon, it was not always easy to see clearly the face of one’s partner. Many a lassie received an embrace, or a salute on the lips, from a lively dancer, whom she supposed was a new comer. He might not be well known in the village, she thought, though he appeared graceful and dressed very nicely, in sea green, gauzy clothes.

Yet no matter how hard these Undines might try to get their clothes entirely dry, they could never wring the water out wholly of their garments, so that they were always more or less damp. If they had changed their form too quickly, their clothes would drip, and make spots on the floor, or ground. Often the village folk felt dampness, on their limbs below the knees. Yet few ever gave the matter a second thought, for their minds were wholly set on having a good time, and they had it.

Sometimes the lady fairies started rather late in the evening to take their swim to the lake shore. Fearing to lose some of the fun, and thinking they might even find the dancing all over, and the people gone home to bed, they were in a great hurry, while on the strand, to change into the form of mortals and put on their human clothes. So it happened that, when they joined in the dance, one sharp-eyed fellow, who was playing the violin for the measures, noticed that something was wrong. In fact, he was so surprised, that he suddenly stopped fiddling. Then, instantly, everybody dropped arms and stood looking around at the musician’s stand, to see what was the matter. In a moment, it was as quiet as a church aisle, when the parson was praying.

What he saw made his eyes big and round. Then, most impolitely—as some of the girls thought—he pointed to a maiden’s green petticoat, that was beneath her outer dress and that had come a little below her frock. It was dripping with water. Again, after looking with searching eyes at another, and a third, he screamed out:

“Folks and fellow villagers! Don’t you know you’ve got the Undines among you? Look there, and there, and there!” Then he pointed, with his fiddle bow, to some of the prettiest of the female dancers. “Just feel the hem of their skirts, and you’ll know what sort of guests have been dancing with you tonight.”

Whereupon, every young man turned his female partner round, and some of them, most ungallantly, flapped their hands on their lower skirts. Feeling and finding that these were very damp, four or five of them at once lifted up their hands, which were wringing wet, and shook off the drops.

One bold fellow even went behind, and seized the tail of his partner’s petticoat. She seemed to be the sloppiest-looking girl in the whole party, and he actually wrung out a half pint of water.

Thereupon, a tall handsome fellow, leader of the Undine party of a half dozen or so, put his two fingers in his mouth and gave a sort of whistle. At once, all the Undines shouted and ran down to the water’s edge. There, they stopped a minute or two, on the lake beach, and then leaped below the waves and disappeared. It sounded as if six big seals had made a dive.

One villager, who pretended to be an Undine, ran quickly after these water sprites and saw them for a moment on the shore, when they changed their form before resuming their old shapes.

He came back to tell a wonderful tale of what he had seen. When he examined the clothes they had left behind, he found that though they looked shiny, in the moonlight, the stuff was only that of some water plants like sea weed.

When arrived in their crystal palace under the waves, the king of the Undines gave the girl fairies a good scolding, for not, in the first place, being more punctual in both starting and coming home, and next, for being in too much of a hurry in changing themselves into mortals. As for the others, he punished these by forbidding them ever to dance again on that side of the lake.

Ever after that, when, on moonlight nights, the village lads and lasses came out to waltz, they scrutinized each partner in the dance, before allowing him or her to join in when the music began. Some, among the younger set of girls, felt offended at such a severe examination; but it was necessary, and the other girls agreed to it.

Yet even then, the water sprites would sometimes join in; for, when everybody was lively, and the fun was fast and furious, each one of the lads and lasses was too much excited to notice the dress, or to be certain as to who was who, or which was which, or what was what, or even to see the face of a partner.

One night, the daughter of the lord of the grand chateau, the Princess Babi, slipped out the castle gate, along with several of her maids, and joined the village youth in their fun. At the very height of the dance, a young man became her partner in the waltz, chiefly because of his elegant clothes and polished manners. Though he did not talk, but expressed his offers and wishes by signs and motions, she enjoyed mightily his dancing, which was both deft and graceful.

There was present, however, a sharp-eyed mother, a nurse, who had three nieces in the dance. She kept looking, like a lynx, at every lad in the party. At last, she noticed this unusually handsome and stylish fellow, who seemed to wear finer clothes than most of the village boys.

The old woman’s suspicions were fully aroused, when she saw the young couple linked, arm in arm, and, especially, as he turned his body round in the dance. For, when the moonbeams fell upon the skirt of his coat, it shone as only wet clothes could, in the silvery light. The color reflected was that of wave green.

Upon this, she made up her mind that this fine fellow was no other than the King of the Crystal Cavern, which was far down in the world under the waters.

She was about to give the signal, that would expose him, when her mouth was shut, and her limbs felt as if paralyzed by some unseen and unknown power, when she saw him offer to take, as his partner, the Princess Babi, the daughter of the castle lord.

Smilingly the lovely maiden put out her arms, in return for his embrace. All she thought of was the fun and merriment. Yet, within a few minutes after they had linked arms together, he started in a whirling dance. It was so rapid, that the mother and the older spectators, who sat watching the young people, were too fascinated to speak or cry out. They noticed him whirling his partner around, but getting ever nearer the lakeside. Wider and wider were the circles they made, but all the time he was bringing her nearer the beach; while she seemed delirious with delight, apparently oblivious to everything but the rapturous motion.

Reaching the shore, pausing hardly a moment, he leaped with her into the water, which was then silvered with the moonbeams and rippling with the breeze.

Down, down, below the sparkling waves, the King of the World under the Waters—for it was he—made her his wife and queen, but never would he let her go back home.

There, among the great coral trees and groves of gold and silver and amid heaps of shining gems, with a score of maidens to wait on her, valets and footmen and servants of a strange sort, and with food rich and abundant, pleasing and tempting to both eye and palate, and with the most entrancing music ever at her command, she was enraptured. So delighted was she, that the years passed away as days.

Yet even when touched with homesickness, and longing for those she had left behind on earth, in her castle home, she found herself watched and guarded. The gates, though made of emerald and sapphire, shut of themselves, because moved, by some secret spring, against her return. Having once eaten of fairy food, and accepted her husband’s gifts, she could never again leave either the palace or the World under the Waves. The crystal cavern was her prison. When she looked in the mirror, she found her teeth were wave green. She was now an Undine.

Yet in the village, where the story of the castle princess was told, it was declared that, on calm still nights, when the moon shone brightest, the most delightful music could be heard coming up from the lake. Some of the fishermen were sure that, far below on quiet summer days, also when no wind blew, and the sunbeams struck deep into the waters, they could peer down into the depths and see the walls and towers of this crystal palace.

XX

THE ALPINE HUNTER AND HIS FAIRY GUARDIAN

There is one variety of the Swiss fairies who manage to get along with very few clothes, and those very thin. The prettiest ones among them seem to live up among the highest mountain peaks. There, it is colder than anywhere else, but these fairies do not mind it. Furs are not in fashion, but only very filmy garments. On their backs are gauzy wings, by which they can fly around from one peak to another. They hover over the meadows also, which in summer glisten with blossoms of every tint and hue. They love to plague Jack Frost, and the old mountain giants, that have beards of icicles, and hair of snow streamers, and who try so hard to freeze out the flowers.

These fairies know all the secrets of the mountains. They find out where the largest and prettiest rock crystals are, and where the priceless minerals are to be found. They can tell just where the caves of sparkling topaz are situated, but they do not let any mortal know, unless he is their favorite. They can lead a hunter to the spot where the chamois are feeding on the moss. When they want to reward a brave man, they bring him bullets that are sure to hit the buck, and win for the marksman a fine pair of horns; or, at the village shooting matches, plug the bull’s eye of the target, and so secure the prize. To please his fairy guardian, the hunter must always promise to do what she bids him, or else her bad temper is roused. Then she scolds, and leaves him to his luck, which, after that time, is never good. It is not safe to quarrel with a fairy.

Now there was one of these lovely creatures, named Silver Wreath, because she looked as charming as the morning mists at sunrise, when shot through and through by the upspringing light. Then they float off in the air, like glistening wreaths made of golden braid, or like scarves of silver. Sometimes, when illuminated by the sun’s rays, they remind one of necklaces of pearls; or, when many are together, like white garments of burnished silver set with costly gems.

Silver Wreath, the fairy, was noted for living among the lofty peaks, where only the hardiest flowers, such as the Alpine rose, and the noble white flower, called the edelweiss, could grow. No animal or bird, ermine or ptarmigan, could be whiter than her body, which glistened like snow crystals or hoar frost, when struck by the sunbeams. When she blushed, her whole body was like the wonderful Alpine glow that, after sunset, robes the mountain tops, and both for the same reason. The sky becomes rosy red, because the sun’s rays are reflected from the snow, even after going down. So this fairy’s beautiful body not only shone by its own light, but at times reflected the great luminary’s loveliest tints. It was a way the sun had, of saying “good night” to the mighty mountains. So, also, fairy Silver Wreath blushed when, in the dawn of day, she made her farewell curtsey to her companions, for, after sunrise, the fairies disappear.

Now there was a brave hunter named Jeannod, who lived in a village of Uri. In his pursuit of the chamois, this stalwart youth was not afraid to follow this agile animal over the most dizzy precipices, and far up beyond the snow line. He did not hesitate to climb the most perpendicular mountain walls, to get a good shot. Hence, he was often compelled to spend a night, amid the cliffs and glaciers.

One evening, while on a hunting expedition, Jeannod caught sight of Silver Wreath, as she was flitting on her gauzy wings around a peak. At once, he fell in love with her. Happily for him, she was, after several meetings, enamored of Jeannod, and he became her favorite. As they became better acquainted with each other, she guided him over unknown paths and often warned him of danger. She directed him to the chamois herds, and fed him with the finest oat cake and cheese. When too wearied to retrace his way back, or to return home, for the night, she watched over him while he slept. There, far above, where the eagles flew, she guarded her lover from falling rock or ice, shielding him from every peril, seen and unseen.

In that way, it happened that for many months, the hunter was in luck and became the envy of his village companions. He never slipped or lost his balance, or fell over a precipice, or into an ice crevasse, or was hit by an avalanche, or lost his path. On every occasion he came back home with a fat buck on his shoulders, or a brace of ptarmagan birds, or a big rock crystal, and always looked rosy and healthy; all the young girls admired him, and the youth wanted to be like him. They hoped to learn the reason of his luck, which he kept a secret.

Silver Wreath soon found out what Jeannod liked most to eat, for while she was a fairy, he was a mortal, and had a stomach, and, always, a lively appetite. He was very particular, and rather fussy about the kind of cheese he ate, and he always bought the best that could be found in the market. In fact, he would often walk many miles, and spend his last coin, to get a cheese of an especially good brand or flavor, no matter at what price.

The fairy soon found this out, about her lover’s taste, and when Jeannod was hungry, after climbing the steep rocks, she fed him on a most delicious kind of cheese. He declared no mortal man or woman could make any equal to it, whether in taste, or in nourishment, or in flavor. On the other hand, he amused her by singing, rattling off rhymes, or telling her stories about men and women. One of these, about “Peter, Peter, Pumpkin-eater,” seemed to her to be the funniest of all. After that, when he asked her what he might bring her for a present, he was surprised to hear her say a “pumpkin shell.” Then he laughed heartily. When he brought it to her, she kept the pumpkin shell in a rock crevice as a great curiosity and called it her doll house.

Jeannod was so happy in his love for fairy Silver Wreath, that he wanted to make her his wife. So one day, he kneeled before her and asked her to be his bride. He thought it would be easy for her to accept his love and care, after she had so helped and favored him.

But Silver Wreath, much as she loved Jeannod, did not welcome the idea of either changing her nature, or leaving her mountain home. Either or both meant much to her, though little to him. She would have to put on women’s clothes, and be bothered with changes in fashion, with which fairies are not troubled. She would be shut up in a house, among mortals, who get old and die. She would have to depart from heaven-high peaks, and things white, and vast, and glorious, and dwell among gossips and tale-bearers. Besides, she could not tell whether Jeannod would always be fond of her. One day, she remembered the story he had told her, in fun, of “Peter, Peter, Pumpkin-eater,” and it frightened her, when she thought of Peter’s wife. So she brooded, long and hard, over the matter as to whether she should say “yes” to Jeannod, and be his wife. Would he be a Peter, and keep her in a pumpkin shell?

Yet the hunter was so handsome and so brave! Besides, he did so love the mountains and the Alpine flowers! Every time he came to her, he had an Alpine rose in his coat as a symbol of his joy, which might, however, be for his lifetime only; but, in his hand, he held an edelweiss, as symbol of faith in the things eternal. This showed that he thought of both the affairs of the body and the life of the soul, in the true Swiss way. Besides, he so vehemently assured her that, whenever she should get homesick, he would take her with him up to her old haunts. Every time he went to hunt the chamois, she should be his companion. Last, but not least, he pressed his suit so ardently that, finally, she consented to marry him, and live in his home.