The Maiden and the Stranger | A Fairy Tale Ballad

THE

Maiden

AND THE

Stranger

* * *

Once, long ago

In a land filled with ice,

There lived a young maiden

who’d had her heart broken thrice.

Though she tried to look upward,

and let hope regrow,

when she met new young men,

her one thought was, “No—

No more of that heartache,

no more of that pain,

I’ll never be taken

for a poor fool again.”

So the years went by

and she kept to herself,

and nothing could tempt her,

neither kindness nor wealth.

Til one day at last,

There came a deep frost,

so sickeningly cold

nearly all hope was lost.

The villagers feared

that the spring would not come,

that their wood should run out,

and their lives be undone.

Then, by and by,

a stranger arrived,

bearing so many gifts

that their hopes were revived.

“One thing only I ask,

and I’ll be satisfied;

in exchange for my help,

you must give me a bride.”

All the girls looked around,

Unsure what to say.

Would he leave them to die,

if they denied him his way?

Though his visage was handsome,

his eyes glittered blue

in a way most unsettling….

Would his word remain true?

At length, the young maiden

said “well sir, you see,

if you must have a bride,

then it ought to be me.

For I’ve given up dreaming;

I’ve loved and I’ve lost—

just promise you’ll rescue

my town from this frost.”

The stranger consented,

he took her away,

and the villagers hoped

that they’d not rue the day.

* * *

He brought her along

to a house in the mountains,

with pillars of glass,

and great frozen fountains.

While in wonder she gaped,

he took her aside,

and said, “all you ask for,

I swear I’ll provide.

Just promise me one thing:

that never at night—

no matter how you may wish—

will you turn on a light.”

She thought it was strange,

but said nothing more,

then he offered her gowns

to replace those she wore.

Before long, he left,

and the maiden could find

no trace of her husband…

Well, she didn’t mind.

She ran though the courtyards,

enjoying the view.

There was much to discover,

and so much to do!

For the first time in years,

she forgot all her pain.

She forgot about grieving,

and loving in vain.

But then in the night time,

when quiet she lay,

her husband came in,

and not a word did he say.

In the dark she saw nothing,

though a close watch she kept.

She heard only his breathing

as he lay down and slept.

When the morning light came,

she woke quite alone,

but she found him outside

as pale as a bone.

“I trust you slept well,”

he spoke up at last,

and she said that she did,

and so the days passed.

* * *

III

Spring came and went,

and summer flew by,

and the maiden was happy;

she seldom would sigh.

Most days she had only

herself for a friend,

but she found that quite nice,

and never wished it to end.

Sometimes in the evenings

or mornings she’d find

her husband there waiting,

though distracted in mind.

His kindness was clear,

always freely bestowed.

The unnerving glint in his eyes

rarely showed.

Yet though he was gentle

and charming as well,

he was guarded, reserved…

with no reason to tell.

The maiden thought, sometimes,

by jests that he made,

that beneath his fine manners,

he might be afraid.

Of what, she knew not,

and she did not inquire,

after all, he had given

all that she could desire.

She thought once, while waiting

for him to appear,

that she could fall in love,

if she conquered her fear—

but the thought felt like madness;

she hardened her heart.

She had learned three sad lessons

from which she’d not depart.

When summer had passed,

and autumn arrived,

she asked leave to see

if her village had thrived.

Her husband consented

and took her back home,

though he stopped at the borders

and sent her alone.

Perplexed, but untroubled,

the maiden went on,

reuniting with friends

who had thought her long gone.

They welcomed her in

with rapturous smiles,

and swarmed her with questions,

using all of their wiles.

Who was her young stranger?

Was he kind? Was she free?

Was he rich and mysterious

as talk made him to be?

The maiden was flustered;

she could not understand

why it felt like betrayal

to speak of the man

who rarely was home,

whom she could not truly know,

who acted so strangely

with no reason to show.

So, she smiled and answered

with clever replies

that told very little,

without using lies.

But that night as she lay

with her childhood friend

in the barn where they used

to play games and pretend,

the girl whispered softly,

“Since you’re like my own sister,

you must tell me the truth

of your mysterious mister!”

The maiden relented

and told her, “each night,

no matter the cost,

he’ll not suffer a light.

He speaks not a word to me,

he does not come near.

So that all night his presence

alone, I can hear.

In the daylight he’s kind,

though he seldom is there,

for he wanders abroad,

and I do not know where.”

Her friend puzzled over

the story most queer,

and said “I must tell you,

that you have much to fear!

I think he’s a daemon,

a monster most dread,

who keeps his form hidden—

and soon you’ll be dead!

If you do not unmask him

and lay the truth bare,

he’ll surely make certain

you meet your end there!”

The maiden was troubled,

they said no more about it.

But the more time that passed,

it grew harder to doubt it.

Perhaps he was waiting,

with patient delight,

to savor her life’s blood

one terrible night.

* * *

When at last she returned

to her husband that day,

she put on a brave face,

not sure what to say.

But he greeted her fondly,

and took her pale hand

and kissing it, asked,

“did all go as you planned?”

She lied and said “Yes,

and now let us go back.

If we don’t return soon,

Then a supper we’ll lack!”

That evening the stranger

was more charming than ever.

He laughed and engaged her

With every endeavor

He talked with her, danced with her,

told many stories,

and gave her a gift

of six new morning glories.

Where he got them, she knew not,

for flowers were few,

and the gift only strengthened

her doubting anew.

That evening as nighttime

drew ever more near

he whispered, “my darling,

promise me you’ll stay near.”

She thought it was strange,

but she gave him a nod,

Then with trembling limbs,

to her bedroom she trod.

In secret she hid

‘neath the covers, a lamp

And a dagger within

her tight fist to clamp.

Sure enough, later

in the cover of night,

her husband came in—

and her knuckles went white.

He lay down beside her,

as silent as death,

and she waited in agony,

holding her breath.

At last, when she thought him

asleep, she unfurled

the lamp in the darkness,

and then her lips curled

In horror as there,

by her side she beheld,

a more terrible monster

than had ever been felled.

His form was draconic,

with glistening scales

that covered his body

from nose-tip to tail.

His hands were like bird’s feet,

with talons that gleamed,

and if they’d been closer,

would pierce her, it seemed.

In terror she froze,

gripped the dagger hilt tight,

but her other hand shook,

and in fear, dropped the light!

* * *

In an instant he rose,

with a terrible scream,

as if waking in panic

from a long-dreaded dream.

His eyes fell upon her,

glinting awful and blue…

then he sank to the ground

and wept, til she knew

that somehow in spite

of her rightful alarm,

his mind was still sound,

and he meant her no harm.

“Alas, tender maiden,”

he said with great pain,

“Since you’ve seen my night form;

I can’t see you again.

I once was a lord,

But a fairy most cruel

set a curse upon me,

that my heart she might rule.

If a year I could spend

with a bride who’d not see

my hideous shape,

then at last I’d be free.

Now that you’ve seen me,

I cannot delay—

I must go to my jailor,

and with her I must stay.”

Then spreading his wings,

he took off through the night,

though the maiden tried hard

to hinder his flight.

She was left by the window

to wait on her own,

afraid and uncertain,

completely alone.

“One promise I gave him,”

she whispered at last,

“and could I not keep it,

til one year had passed?”

To comfort herself,

she remembered that she

had no way of knowing

she was not meant to see.

But then she recalled

the three loves who had lied,

who had nearly destroyed her,

and bitterly cried—

“Now I’ve been untrue,

the fault is with me.

I will not stop searching,

til my husband is free.”

A sleepless night passed,

and when rose the new day

She put on her old clothes,

and wandered away.

She did not look back

at the house in the mountains,

at the pillars of glass,

or the beautiful fountains.

She did not pause even

for her village and friends,

she kept her eyes forward,

on a road without end.

* * *

How can one track

a beast who’s on wings?

or conceive a new answer

for magical things?

The maiden tried not

to let questions confuse.

For the journey ahead,

all her wits she would use.

For many long nights

she wandered quite far,

where the wild winds tumble,

and the secret things are.

Weary and lonely,

she traveled on, lost

and grieving the husband

her doubting had cost.

On unfeeling rocks,

she made her cold bed.

“I will find you someday,”

she wistfully said.

Sometime in the night,

the call of a dove

drew her wakening gaze

to a nest there above.

“Why do you weep,

little maiden who cries?

What can I do

for the tears in your eyes?”

The maiden replied,

though astounded indeed,

and told of her troubles,

and of her great need.

The dove spread his wings

and then fluttered down,

saying, “though I am small,

I have gained some renown

for my knowledge of wind paths—

of roads in the sky—

And if anyone knows

where your love is, ‘tis I!”

The dove bade her follow,

and follow she did,

and he led her on ways

that were secretly hid.

She shared with him food,

sheltered him with her cloak,

and he sang to her each

lonely morning she woke.

at last, the pair came

to a mountain so high,

that the maiden could not

stop her own dismal sigh.

But there at the top

stood a grey palace grand,

a home, she thought surely,

to the Queen of this land.

* * *

VII

The faithful dove lighted

on her shoulder and warned,

“Maiden, you must be cautious,

do not go adorned.

For the Fairy Queen’s envy

is much to be feared,

and her vengeance is everywhere

greatly revered.

If you take what is hers,

be sure she’ll repay,

so be careful my dear—

that is all I will say.”

So she rubbed in the dirt

on the skin of her face

til she looked like a beggar,

or a wretch in disgrace.

Then she thanked her companion

and hurried along,

for she heard faintly ringing,

the sound of a gong.

‘Twas the servant’s bell, calling

the maiden supposed,

to warn all the workers

the gates would be closed.

She slipped in among them

as all shuffled through,

she gripped her skirts tightly,

now what could she do?

She searched for her husband

among all the men,

but his now-cherished face

was not found among them.

Her anxiety growing

as each moment passed,

the maiden searched all

through the castle, so vast

that the longer she wandered,

the more lost she became,

and every long passageway

looked just the same.

At length, she heard music,

though faint, it was true—

but she followed the sound

and it guided her through.

She came to a great hall

expansive and cold,

with splendidly carved

alabaster and gold.

A throng of fine ladies

and gentlemen danced.

not one of them spared her

a thought or a glance,

which was well, for she let out

a cry of alarm,

when she saw there, her husband

in the Fairy Queen’s arms.

* * *

VIII

He stood, unresisting

as she kissed his pale face.

The cruel smile of the queen

made the maiden’s heart race.

“Oh my love, I have found you!”

she sighed, “but now, how

can I get you alone,

and away from this row?”

A flittering of wings

up above caught her eye,

Her dove, at the window

was tapping on high.

While the courtier fairies

whirled madly about,

the maiden climbed up and

peaked her head out.

“You had best wait for him

in the hallway, I think—

for you’ll not reach him here;

you could sooner cry ink!”

Letting the dove in,

she hid him from sight,

and retreated from there

to await the deep night

When after the fairies’

gay reverie was done,

she could finally unite

with her stolen loved one.

But just as she reached

the great doors of the hall,

the Fairy Queen made

an announcement to all.

“My subjects,” said she,

with a proud and hard smile,

“this mortal and I will

Be wed in a short while.”

And the stranger said nary

complaint or protest,

only bowed a deep bow

at the monarch’s behest.

The young maiden felt

her heart breaking anew!

She ran through the doors—

Oh, now what could she do?

She knew not how long

she wept in her guilt,

but soon in her sight

there appeared a sword hilt,

and a young man knelt down,

his compassion was clear.

‘Twas her very own husband,

Now at last, he was here!

“Come now, dear maid,

It’s alright, dry your eyes!

My heart fairly bleeds

When I hear your sad cries.”

In wonder she gazed on him,

feeling quite weak,

so surprised and amazed

that she hardly could speak.

She cried, “Don’t you know me?

‘Tis I, your own wife!”

He said, “I don’t know you,

I swear on my life.”

He backed away slowly,

eyes clouded and queer.

“I know naught of my life,

but for what I’ve lived here.

I do the queen’s bidding,

Obediently…

Only sometimes I dream

Of a past I can’t see.”

Before she could stop him,

He wandered away,

As if in a trance,

No doubt in the queen’s sway.

* * *

She’d not come so far

To give up, though it seemed

his salvation had only

been hopelessly dreamed.

Her doubting had cost him

his freedom, she knew,

and though her quest now seemed futile,

she would see it through.

With purpose she dried

all the tears from her eyes

and consulted the dove,

a new plan to devise.

In the morning she went

and boldly requested

to meet with the queen,

though they all thought she jested.

“And jest I shall do–

and tell stories too,

If you only shall let

my poor, shabby self through.”

So the fairies consented

and brought her before

The queen, who was fooled

by the rags that she wore.

“Very well, entertain us,

you poor ugly thing.

I could use a new toy

who can tell tales and sing.”

For fairies—for all

of their splendor and wiles—

have no heart of their own,

only stretched, empty smiles.

The maiden poured forth

wondrous tale after tale,

then she and the dove

sang a song of the gale—

of the sky-roads and mountains,

of beauty and pain…

and when they had finished,

it had not been in vain.

Not one eye was dry,

no, the fairies all wept,

and treasured the song

as a gift to be kept.

“What boon would you ask?”

the Fairy Queen offered.

“You may choose any thing

that you wish from my coffers.”

The maiden replied,

“My desire is this;

permission to enter

any room that I wish.”

“With the exception of mine,

consider it granted,

in exchange for this most

precious seed that you’ve planted.”

The maiden was given

a small golden key,

and she tucked it away,

her dear husband to free.

That night, in the small hours

when everyone slept,

the maid went in secret

And silently crept

to the room of her husband

and found where he lay…

but she could not arouse him,

Try as she may.

She hugged him and kissed him,

laid her hand on his heart,

but his eyes would not open—

though his lips, they did part

and he whispered her name,

almost too soft to hear

And he said, “Oh my love,

how I wish you were near.”

The maiden tried hard

until morning to wake him.

She murmured and pleaded,

and at last, she did shake him.

At length, when the sun rose

she sadly departed,

exhausted, discouraged,

and quite broken-hearted.

But the dove found her soon,

such a brave little bird,

and told her a secret

that he’d overheard.

“The young lord remembers

himself when he sleeps,

so the Fairy Queen gives him

a potion that keeps

his slumber so sound

that he cannot arise,

though the servants say,

often enough, he still tries.

So the next time the maiden

performed for the queen,

her little companion

was not to be seen.

For while she played foolish,

the queen to amuse,

the dove searched the castle

for the potion she used.

and when he had found it,

he emptied it out

and refilled it with water

so the queen would not doubt

when she held it, the flask

was as full as before.

Then he fluttered away,

and on the day wore.

When the maiden had finished

her fooling that day,

and the fairies had dried

tears of laughter away,

The queen again offered

what she might desire,

and the maiden replied

that the key she’d require.

The hours crawled by

as the maiden awaited,

and all the while in

her heart she debated

What words she could use

when she met with the one

she had taken for granted…

Could his hear still be won?

At long last, the sun set.

With trembling she stole

through the corridors wide—

felt the swell of her soul–

when she reached the doorway

made of ebony bark,

and entered the bedroom

and stood in the dark.

“My husband?” she called out,

and rushed to his side.

Then he stirred in his slumber;

his eyes opened wide.

He blinked long and slow,

then sat up in bed.

“Can it really be you?”

he raggedly said.

“Oh my love, it is I!”

she exclaimed through her tears.

“I’ve been searching for you

for what now seems like years!”

As if unbelieving,

he swallowed and spoke,

“I feared you indifferent,

though I hoped against hope.”

Clasping his hands

in her own, she explained

the tale of her sorrow

she had not yet named.

“I once loved a man

who was really a boy,

who saw me as merely

a pretty young toy.

I then loved a man

who was really a thief,

who wandered and cheated

beyond all belief.

Then I fell for a man

who was gentle and kind,

but whose heart loved another,

so, he left me behind.

A man once loved me

who was generous and true,

but I dared not love him,

and that man was you.

Since the night that you left,

I have searched every day,

for I found that I missed you

while you were away.

I know that I’ve hurt you—

I’ve broken my word.

to ask for your heart now,

I know is absurd.

But I hope, yes, I hope,

though it keeps me in pain,

that you’ll find it within you

to love me again.”

Her husband embraced her

and said, “Oh, my dear—

my heart will forever be yours,

never fear.

Your selflessness touched me

the day that you gave

your hand up in marriage,

your village to save.

I fell all too fast,

though I bade myself wait—

lest I frighten you off,

for I feared that you’d hate

a man who would steal you

from all that you knew

without giving a reason…

but still my love grew.”

“And now here we are,

together at last!”

the maiden replied,

and told all that had passed.

“But quick, now, my love,

come at once, let us flee!”

In the dark of the night,

our escape they won’t see.”

But the man shook his head,

and said, “By the morning,

the spell shall resume.

I’ll forget you–take warning.”

He told her to run,

and return to her home.

‘Twas enough that she loved him,

and had made herself known.

Yet the maiden refused;

She could not now return

to a home safe, but empty.

That path she would spurn.

She kissed his cheek softly,

and bid him goodnight,

determined to stay

and for her love, fight.

* * *

The next day the wedding bells

rang through the court,

for the queen she would marry

her mortal consort.

As arrangements were made

‘neath a reddening sky,

the maid and her dove

stood watchfully by.

At twilight the trumpets

announced the fae bride,

with the maiden’s beloved,

bewitched at her side.

And before the assembled,

they bent in deep bows,

then joined hands together

to speak their love vows.

But just as they opened

their mouths for to swear,

the maiden rushed forward,

demanding, “Forbear!”

The young lord turned to question

this new troublemaker,

but his unrecognition

could no-longer shake her.

Undaunted, she cried out,

“This man cannot wed,

for to me he is sworn,

‘til the day we are dead.”

The Fairy Queen paled,

her narrow eyes blazed,

and she stared at the maiden

in anger, amazed.

“Is this the poor urchin

I allowed to play fool?

Had I known of your beauty,

I’d have been much more cruel!”

“Return me my husband;

find one of your own,

If you kill me, my spirit

won’t leave you alone.”

Tilting her chin,

the queen laughed a harsh laugh,

and said, “I’m not frightened

by deceitful riffraff.

But try, if you will,

to claim him as yours;

if you fail, then my soldiers

will show you the doors.”

The maiden approached

her beloved once more,

and asked, “Do you know me?

Let us dance, as before!”

Distress and dismay

crossed her dear husband’s mien.

“Truly, maiden, I wish

to recall what you mean.”

With a wave of her hand,

the Fairy Queen banished

the pain from his face,

and his pity all vanished.

“Give no ear to her pleas,

my cherished young pet,

now return to me quickly,

we’re not finished yet.”

He turned to obey,

but the maiden held tight

to his hand as he passed,

and with all of her might

declared, “You’ll not leave,

And be stolen again,

I’ll not let go now

as you forced me to then!”

For a moment they struggled—

she would not let go,

though her husband began

to thrash and to throw.

They tumbled together

down step after stair,

when the dove cried out loudly,

“Dear maiden—beware!”

For the Fairy Queen lifted

her hand, and released

a whirlwind of magic

and changed man into beast.

Repulsed, the young maid

watched her husband transform,

to the hideous daemon

with blue eyes like a storm

His claws pierced her skin,

his scales were near-burning,

and the smoke of his breath

soon set her head turning.

Yet still she held on,

though he roared in her ear;

she knew underneath

was the man she held dear.

“If I must die, my love,”

she whispered in tears,

“don’t let my death haunt you

for all of your years.”

“Finish her, pet,

enough with delays!

I do not intend

to stand waiting for days.”

At the queen’s words,

the monster pulled in

a deep breath to ignite

a fire within.

But just as the flames

lit the scales of his chest,

the maid opened her hand

like a silent request.

In her palm lay the flowers,

all delicate blue,

that had once been his gift to her,

loving and true.

At the sight, his eyes flickered,

the fire died out,

and the beastly form faltered

in evident doubt.

“Pay no heed!” cried the queen,

stretching out her slim hand,

“Hear my voice now, and only

live to serve my command.”

But the maiden still clung

to her husband’s own arm,

though the scales burned her skin,

and his claws did her harm.

Lifting her hand

to his dragonlike face,

she said, “you are my love,

and with you, is my place.”

Blinking, the beast

shuddered deeply and fell,

and returned to the form

that the maiden knew well.

When she sat up, she found

her fingers entwined

with the young lord’s—at last,

he was in his own mind!

“My love, have I hurt you?”

he softly consoled,

and he gathered her up,

her frail form to enfold.

In the sight of the court,

they rose up and left,

leaving the cruel queen

Alone and bereft.

Fairies gaped in amazement

as each one beheld

the couple whose love

had refused to be quelled.

They parted before them,

and opened the gate,

while their monarch stood watching,

and seething with hate.

In fury, the Fairy Queen

glared on the two,

and declared, “Now I unleash

my wrath upon you!

“Deceitful young maid,

you have stolen away

something precious of mine;

and you will rue this day.

In return for your theft,

you will get what you’re due.

Something equally precious,

I now take from you.”

So saying, she stretched out

her powers once more,

and struck down the dove

as he flew through the door.

The maid stumbled, weeping

to kneel at his side,

and the great gates were closed.

the man knelt with his bride.

They buried the dove

at the crest of a hill,

where the sunlight was gentle,

and the mornings were still.

The maiden laid down

one long tress of her hair,

in hopes that a new nest

might soon be spun there.

“A truer companion,

more giving, and kind

we would, in this world,

be hard-pressed to find.”

Then rising to stand

near her husband once more,

she left to return

to their life of before.

To the house in the mountains,

and the village below,

where the maiden’s friends waited,

quite anxious to know

where the brave girl had gone,

and her mysterious lord,

whom, gossip would have it,

should be feared, not adored.

Yet upon their return,

the true story was told,

and proven by remnants

of fairies’ dark gold.

In sorrow and guilt,

the maiden’s old friend,

who had laid seeds of doubt,

tried hard to amend.

And the maiden forgave,

and said all was forgot’,

as did her true love,

sad to see her distraught.

Then, bidding farewell

to the village at last,

they returned to their home,

where the coming years passed

in comfort and safety;

the pair quite content

to have only each other,

and none to prevent

their blossoming trust,

and their blissful concord.

So they lived on in joy

For e’er afterward.

* * *

The End