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Frost Ferns, A Fairy Tale

12/18/2012

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Picture
Ice on the River
    Once there was a woman who married a man who had a young daughter. The woman and the man then had a daughter together. The first daughter was pretty and kind and soft-hearted. The second daughter was stupid, lazy, ugly, and mean, and her mother knew it.  So the woman hated the older girl, for existing, and for making her own daughter look bad. The woman made the man’s daughter’s life a misery.  She made her do chores and housework, and slapped the girl even though she did all the work requested, while the other girl lay around and complained and ate.  Finally the woman said to the man, “Get her out of my sight.” She told him to take his daughter out to the wilderness and leave her there, as it was going to be a cold night. The man hitched up the sleigh and started to cover the girl with warm blankets, but the woman was watching and he was afraid of her. He drove the little girl out beyond the safe places, and left quickly so he would not have to watch her die. When the man returned home, his wife was making food for the wake in the warm kitchen.
Picture
Veil of Clouds
    The girl sat in the snow and watched the moon rise. From the woods to her left, she heard crackling sounds and saw the white woman of the wood emerge from the trees.  The white woman of the wood snapped her fingers and ice crystals formed on the leaves and the grasses, and the frost ferns grew up the bark of the trees.  The white lady saw the girl sitting in the snow, and crackled toward her, snapping her fingers so that frost jewels and ice diamonds scattered on the ground, glittering in the moonlight.             
     “I am Frau Holda, the Queen of the Forest, and I make the frost ferns
grow,” she said to the daughter.  She leaned over the girl, who saw that the woman’s eyes were ice blue. “Are you quite warm, little girl?” she asked, looking into the girl’s  eyes.             
     “Oh yes, I am quite warm, thank you” said the little girl, though her
voice shook and she was afraid.             
     The white woman of the wood snapped all her fingers and tree limbs
splintered and crashed from the cold.             
     “I am Frau Holda of the Forest and I make the frost ferns grow.  Are you quite warm, little one?” she asked, looming over the child. Half of her face was alive and half was dead and blue.             
     “Oh yes, I am very warm, thank you,” said the little girl, though she was starting to shiver.             
     The white woman snapped her fingers and the water in the little river
that ran through the woods froze, cracking and crackling in the
moonlight.             
     “I am Frau Holda of the Forest and I make the frost ferns grow.  Are you warm, sweet child?” said the white woman, and she reached her hands towards the girl’s face.           
     “Oh yes, I am, thank you, for it is so beautiful here in the snow under
the moonlight,” said the girl, though her teeth chattered so she could barely
speak, and if her blood had not been salty it would have already frozen like the river.             
     And the white woman of the wood smiled.
Picture
Dark Winter Trees
    “Now it is morning, go and get your daughter’s body, so we can have the funeral,” the wife told her husband. So he hitched up the sleigh and drove to the spot where he had left her.             
     When he returned, the first thing that came through the door of the  kitchen was a giant, heavy trunk, which the man could barely move.  The trunk was full of gold and silver, jewelry, and fine, rare things.  Then the lovely daughter walked in, wearing a cloak of white fur, embroidered with silver and encrusted with white diamonds and gems.  With it she wore a fox fur hat, with the face of the winter fox at the top, pointing forward. The fox eyes glittered blue as though still alive and watchful.  Under the cloak, she wore a warm dress made of the finest, softest white wool.              
     “What is this?” exclaimed the woman.  Upon hearing what had happened, she immediately told her own daughter to bundle up, for it would be another cold night.             
     “Why do I have to go?  We have enough riches now,” the girl
whined.             
     “Shut up and do what you are told, for two fortunes are better than one,
and after that we’ll get rid of her forever,” said the woman.  
    So the man took the second daughter to the same wild place, and left her there.             
     As the moon rose, the second daughter heard the white woman of the wood approach, working her magic on the landscape.             
     “I am Frau Holda, Queen of the Forest, and I make the frost ferns
grow.  Are you warm, little girl?” asked the woman.             
     “Of course I’m not warm,” snapped the girl. “It’s freezing out here. 
Now give me my fortune so I can go home.”             
     “I am Frau Holda, Queen of the Forest, and I make the frost ferns
grow.  Are you warm, dear child?” asked the white woman of the wood.            
     “No I am not, damn it, and I want my money and my jewels so I can go
home,” said the girl.             
     “I am Frau Holda of the Forest and I make the frost ferns grow.  Are you quite warm, dearest one?” asked the woman, and she touched the girl’s skin with her fingers and blew her cold breath across the girl’s face.

             
     At home in the kitchen, the wife bustled about, waiting for her husband
to return with the laden sleigh and making plans for her new wealth. The little dog’s eyes sparkled blue as he barked, saying “Your daughter is dead, unwooed and unwed,” in a sing-song way.  The wife slapped him, and told him to stop.  “Your daughter is dead, unwooed and unwed,” sang the dog, and the wife kicked him, and screamed at him to stop.  “Your daughter is dead, unwooed and unwed,” barked the dog, just as the man drove up in the sleigh.             
     The woman went out to bring in the loot.  “Well, where is the treasure!  What are you doing, you lazy brat?” she asked as she bent over the bundle on the sleigh.  As she touched her daughter’s frozen face, her outsides became as cold as her insides and she fell like a hollow tree, shattering like ice on the cold hard ground.
Picture
Aurora


    This original story steals many nuggets of gold from German, Scandinavian, Japanese, and Russian folk tales and myths. In the old days, the long nights of winter were the traditional time for storytelling.  Happy Solstice!

Copyright Amy Anna 2012
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    Hi, I'm Amy Anna, and I'm an artist, photographer, and writer.  I'm a Person of Unrelenting Curiosity, so come explore with me.

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