Title:Caresse sur l'océan
Characters: Éponine, Marius
Summary: The truth – she gave her voice to be with him, walked on a thousand blades to brighten his heart and ultimately chose his life over hers.
Dans l'aube grise du levant
Trouve un chemin vers l'arc-en-ciel
(In the gray dawn of the rising
Is a path to the rainbow sky)
.
First
There is an oft-told fairytale in the antediluvian annals of children's folklore – a tragic parable of a land-prince whose love was true and innocent but laid upon someone else (but not to say that she was no less deserving), and a sea maiden who would cast aside a centennial existence and her life for him. It's far too easy for adults and adolescents alike to deplore the young mermaid for her stubbornness and her lack of self-preservation. By some form of logic that will not be elucidated for the purpose of this particular telling, their incredulity and scepticism do hold merit in some way. Nevertheless, the fable remains an anguished story indeed.
But we discuss too much the stories that have the serendipity to be preserved in living memory and neglect those that never come to pass. Of the many that exist (for want of better word) in the latter category, one comes fleetingly to mind when we think of mermaids who longed for a life out of the sea; mermaids who sang nightly hymns to the moon, grieving the loss of their sister. It is a work of fiction that shares much symmetry with Andersens's cruel allegory – the forlornness of a love that went unrequited, two people close together but lived worlds apart, culminating in a death upon the breaking waves beneath a rising sun. We may treat this story more kindly and with much less cynicism, because we already know the true story behind these characters (though it is a story which shall be reserved for another day).
This is the unsung story of the little mermaid, Éponine, and her prince, Marius.
.
Second
As they are portrayed typically in paintings and literature, merpeople were fantastic creatures, their magnificent hearts a plenitude of beauty and joy. Accordingly, mermaids were absolutely ravishing. Oceanic ladies with their flowing hair streaming gracefully in their wake, falling about their petite shoulders as they shook their heads free of the occasional hitchhiking barnacle. Éponine was slightly different in their circles, however – while she would have still been considered a decent belle by land dwellers' standards, she was rather plain when juxtaposed against her supremely beautiful sisters.
There was one thing, though, that managed to fill her with wonder and amazement. As Éponine carefully nurtured her little flower garden, teasing the recent blooms into stylish bouquets, she would gaze upwards at the cerulean ring of light that rippled above and ruminate silently. The surface world – oh, how she longed to explore it and experience all its marvels! It wasn't her turn to go just yet – she was the youngest of them all – but her sisters before her had returned home with enthralling stories to share; the merry tintinnabulations from the stone belfry of a church, the rolling hills of verdant green, the sun that shone so resplendently even as it descended into the salt sea.
When she was finally fifteen, her grandmother sent her to the surface world with pearl halves strung through her hair and an epaulet of shellfish pinned to her tail. As she broke through the aquatic barrier binding her to the sea, the night air filled her lungs – cold and new and as mysterious as she'd never expected.
There was a large ship bobbing nearby with a sail as large and white as a cumulus cloud. Curious, Éponine ventured closer to observe it. Peering carefully through a porthole, she was delighted to have found so many of the dry-landers so quickly into her adventure. There were men and women, formally dressed and dancing to the metrical sonata that was being performed. It fascinated her so – their quirky leg movements not accomplishable with a natatory tail, and their whimsical oddities.
Right in the middle of them, there was a handsome young man; Éponine slowly found her gaze gravitating towards him. His eyes twinkled benevolently and he laughed gaily; twice she could have sworn he looked straight at her and she ducked below the window lest she be spotted, then returned to looking at him. She couldn't help but think that even compared against the handsomest of mermen back in the ocean, he would best them all.
His name came to her on the whispering debris of small talk and shaped her lips as she continued to watch him waltz. Marius.
.
Third
All creatures of the deep were taught from young never to approach the sea witch – her horrible magic knew no boundaries and did terrible things to those in her vicinity. Even the path to her abyssal lair was riddled with pits of boiling sulphur and chasms housing seething whirlpools, paved with bleached fish bones and beds of rotting coral, a death trap for the foolish.
Her voice was high and cruel when she laughed at the mermaid that cowered before her. "You are unwise to come," she sneered. "I see the longing in your heart and I will give you what you desire, if you are agreeable to my terms." The witch ticked off the caveats with her scaly fingers: impalement on an invisible sabre, feet that would tread imperceptibly sharp blades and bleed daily, the hollow loss of speech for the rest of her days. "You may not succeed, and knowing all you will suffer till the day that you finally die, you would still chase him, would you not?"
"Ah," Éponine said sadly. "But you don't see what it would mean to live without him – swords and knives could never hope to wound me as much, and what use is my pretty voice if I cannot sing to him with it? If I'm to be on my own, let it be near him, and not apart."
"I see. It is silly of you to harbour such sentiments, but it matters not to me. It will be interesting to see where this leads, no? I will help you, naïve little mermaid." She swept herself up grandly and drew her paring knife. "First, you will pay me; I am not one to work without payment."
At that, Éponine closed her eyes and extended her pink, delicate tongue, as remuneration.
.
Fourth
Marius threw his arms joyfully around his bride-to-be, and even though it wasn't sunrise yet, Éponine felt as though as her heart had already been cleaved in two.
That night, she clutched her sisters' final gift in her hand and entered his tent. As she looked at him sleeping soundly, she felt her hands tremble, and Éponine knew that she couldn't possibly perform this deed. If she killed him there, the daybreak wouldn't matter at all – she would die, for even a mermaid couldn't live long without a heart. Tears mingling with the sea-salt air, she leaned over him to whisper goodbye, then kissed him on the forehead for the last time, for luck.
The morning sun peeked over the earth's rim and its light suffused the seascape, like a benediction. Bearing within her a mortal loss, she leapt lightly over the wooden barrier and into the briny sea below with a soft splash, printing its surface with graceful charity.
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Fifth
And so the telling of this particular fairytale comes to a close. This story will eventually fade into obscurity, as is the fate of many other fables that are far more popular and well-known, but the fact that it has been told once to those who would take the time to listen is sufficient justice for the characters.
The prince would never know the truth behind the taciturn lass who had danced for him and loved him with her eyes – he had so many questions, but she took all the answers with her on the morning of her departure. The truth – she gave her voice to be with him, walked on a thousand blades to brighten his heart and ultimately chose his life over hers. While Marius the prince dearly loved his wife as much as the Marius Pontmercy of Hugo's tale did his, there would always remain some part of him that continued to sorrow for the loss of his nameless companion – we are free to speculate if that part did know of her sacrifice and love somehow, but as intuition is a rather mysterious element, no one can truly say for sure.
However, unlike the other tale of Éponine Thénardier, it is indeed comforting to know that the tale of Éponine the mermaid has a slightly happier ending, at least. We must remember that it is, after all, a children's story and as convention holds, it would not be entirely proper to conclude any other way.
.
Se découvrira le printemps
Calme sur l'océan
(To discover the spring
Calm of the ocean)
A/N: The Little Mermaid refers to the original fairytale by Hans Christian Andersen and not the Disney movie, so that's why there's no mention of anthropomorphised sea creatures. The title is the name of a song from the movie Les Choristes, which means 'caress of the ocean'.