So this is actually a pretty old story of mine, but it was actually based on a Vietnamese love story/folklore. ^-^ I've always love all different types of legend and folklore, such as these because it's just so interesting what they thought up during that time period. Anyways, so yeah. This is based on The Boatman's Flute of Vietnamese Folklore. Hope you enjoy!
Long ago, during the time of Ancient Vietnam, lived a very wealthy mandarin man. The man had but one daughter, one whom he cares deeply about. With a face as beautiful as lotus blossoms, the mandarin man treasured her even more than all of his riches combined. Her ebony-colored hair was always pulled back into a neat ponytail, swaying from side to side as she walked. Her dark, golden eyes were the light of his day as he pursued on his days, thinking for the very best for his daughter. He feared for her well being, afraid of letting any harm getting to her. Because of it, he kept his daughter locked up in her room on top of his grandeur mansion on the hillside and forbade her from leaving.
The lonely, raven-haired daughter spent countless days shut in her chambers, never truly knowing what was going on outside the door. She was catered, however, on every whim she wanted: clothed with the best silk in the land, followers and servants loyal at her hand, and even the best meals with the most prestigious ingredients. It was everything a wealthy daughter wants. But it wasn't what she wanted. No. The girl wanted something even more.
The girl yearned for a life outside of her room. She wanted to experience what it was like to live among other people. Not once has she laid foot on the dewy grass in the morning, nor had her hands ever plucked a fruit from a tree; her fingers had never ran through the trickling waters of the river. The only sunlight she has ever seen was pale and weak, shining through her little, small-framed window. She was isolated from all the simply joys of nature.
One day, the daughter sat near the window and gazed out fondly to the world below her. She watched with amazement as she observed the liveliness of the river, splashing and streaming ever so gently downwards. Her attention was immediately shifted as she noticed a small, wooden boat out in the distance, rowing along the banks. Even from afar, the golden-eyed girl could see a boatman standing, skillfully gliding his way through the waters to gain access to the most serene location of the stream. The boatman sat and placed a bamboo flute against his lips. Various notes danced across the instrument as it began making music, captivating the daughter as she paid attention with poised ears. It was the most beautiful, yet haunting, song she had ever heard as it made its way to her window, and she eagerly listened.
What sort of man would be playing such a melodic piece? The girl imagined how young, how strong, and how handsome the boatman was if she were to meet him up close. An image of a tall, dark haired man formed in her mind, his beautiful bright eyes with genuine happiness formed in her mind as the song interpreted the passion he holds. All throughout the afternoon, she watched intently out at the window. She watched until the boatman disappeared over the horizon, paddling upstream to where he came from.
Later that night, she dreamt of the same melody and a lovely dream formed where the young boatman was there, holding out his strong, yet delicate hands to help her get on his boat. As they drifted through the soft waves of the river, the boatman described all the wondrous and strange sights he'd seen, ensnaring her in fascination. For the first time in her dreams, the young girl was able to see what was only told to her by so many poets and writers. The girl was able to feel the cold waters slip through her slender fingers as she dipped her hand in the stream, the sweet scent of orchid enchanting her through the billowing winds.
A smile graced her lips as her dream continued. The handsome boatman held his hands out again, aiding her as she climbed out and onto the shore. Immediately, the raven-haired girl recognized a meadow and carelessly ran through it, feeling the gentle blades of the grass beneath her feet. Overwhelmed at the sight, her gaze slowly drifted towards a bush filled with wild-berries and she picked them, impatiently gulping down a few. Her eyes lit up like they never have before; the simple, fresh-sour taste of the berries was more delightful than any other fruit presented to her at the mansion, and she ravished in the feeling. Her haven was shattered as a loud, devastating gong woke her up from her sweet slumber.
As she got up from her bed, the daughter hurried towards the windows, gazing down in anticipation at the river. Her gentle heart skipped a beat as the familiar figure appeared in his boat, slowly navigating back to his place. The boatman played his melodic tune once again, making the girl's heart melt even more. Just as she did before, she sat near the window and listened with patient ears, learning his music by heart. As the day neared to a close, the small boat floated close to the hill, giving the daughter a chance to drop little flower petals, hoping the boatman would see them.
Just as the daughter hoped, the boatman was able to come across one of the petals and glanced up, seeing a shadowy figure in the window still in the mansion up at the hill. From what it looked like, the figure belonged to a girl, and it overjoyed his heart to know that his song was heard and praised. He would continue playing his flute, pouring out his heart and soul into every note for the girl to listen.
One day, a gentleman stumbled across the boatman playing his flute, and as his curiosity sparked, he asked the boatman who he could have possible been playing his flute for. The boatman smiled timidly, calmly replying to the question.
"I do not know her name, but she comes to her window everyday and drops flower petals to show her approval." The gentleman looked up towards the mansion and gave a hearty laugh at the poor boatman.
"You are a fool, young boatman! She is the daughter of the mandarin! She is sought after by the wealthiest, noble men of this kingdom! A low-class peasant such as yourself would never have a chance at getting her to even acknowledge you as worthy!" The boatman remained silent, feeling his heart sinking as he realized the gentleman was correct. He put his flute down and rowed away, his hopes of the girl falling in love with him shattered. He never visited the river again.
As morning rose, the daughter eagerly rushed to the window, yearning to hear the beauteous melody of the boatman, but there was no sign of him. She waited as the day wore on, hoping to catch sight of the man, but it became clear he was not coming. Even so, the young girl continued to wait, day after day, refusing to return to her bed as she relentlessly stared at the river to watch with vigil eyes if he was going to come back. As she longed for his return, the daughter fell ill and was laid in bed by her servants. Her father was soon informed of her condition and about the boatman.
He was furious, searching the kingdom for the best physicians who could help his daughter, but the results remained conclusive. The daughter grew more fragile and weak as a couple more days passed. The father was in distraught, but he realized there was nothing else he could do. He finally ordered his servants to search for the young boatman, eventually dragging the poor man to the mansion, shaking and trembling with his long, dark hair in a mess. With the flute in his hands, the boatman wondered what crime he had committed to be dragged there by the servants.
"Are you the young man who has been playing the flute for me daughter?" questioned the mandarin. The boatman nodded nervously. "Now, she is very ill. I have searched through all the lands for the finest husband for my daughter, but if your flute can restore her spirits, then I welcome you to seek her hand in marriage. If she consents and chooses you, then so be it." A spark of hope lit up in the boatman's dark eyes, his expression in awe. It was the chance he had been waiting for: to win the dark-haired girl's heart. With newfound confidence, he stood up and began playing the sweetest melody that danced through the palace.
Soon, the warm-filled notes filled the empty halls, penetrating through the walls and to the young girl's ears. She opened her golden eyes at the familiar song, a smile gracing her lips. "He has returned." With all her strength, the daughter sat up and stumbled to get on her feet, scrambling slowly to the door with the help of her door. Finally, she caught a glimpse of the strong boatman, her heart pounding fast as she watched him play the flute. She neared, the pounding in her heart growing faster and stronger with every step. But as his image became clearer, her heart grew cold.
Her heart sank as she saw the boatman. He looked strong, but he also looked thin and underfed. His dark hair was much longer than even hers, tied back into a messy ponytail; his dull brown eyes, darker than that of night. The boatman's face stretched into a smile, but not one that was worth any gem in the kingdom. Where was the handsome man that she had dreamt of? This was not a man whom she could love, but she still gave a polite smile and bowed slightly, asking her father to repay him for his kindness. The daughter returned to her room, chiding and scolding herself for thinking so foolishly. Not only was she naive, but also an idiot to have believed her dreams were real! She vowed never to sit by the window, and never to fancy a boatman from afar.
Hurt washed across the boatman's face as his heart shattered once more. Having been gazed at as if he were nothing, he knew his heart would never heal from the humiliation. The young boatman declined the mandarin's offer of gold and left the palace with heavy footsteps. His will to play the flute disappeared completely, as it would only remind him of the beautiful girl. The river was to be avoided at all cost as it mocked him of the foolish wish he held onto, showing her reflection in the ripples to remind him. His heart ached tremendously for the girl, however, even though she was unreachable. He lay down on his bed and died of a broken heart.
The villagers who came to bury the boatman's body were puzzled when they arrived. Neither his body, nor the flute could be found, but instead a magnificent pure jade was replaced on his bed. The villagers took it to a carver, who shaped it into a beautiful, intricate drinking goblet. As time passed by, the boatman and his flute were eventually forgotten and buried under their memories. One day, the mandarin ordered his servants to search the lands for the most valuable treasure for him to gift to his beloved daughter with. One of the servants made his way to the boatman's old village and discovered the precious goblet from a villager, paying only a bag of gold for it.
The treasure made it back to the mandarin's mansion, and he immediately ordered the handmaiden to serve his daughter water in nothing but chalice, and the chalice alone. The young girl welcome the valuable present and when she raised it to her lips for the first time, a sense of familiarity flooded towards her as she could faintly hear something: the melodic tune she hadn't heard in a very long time. The melody was sad, but as beautiful as ever as each note was struck with the right tune. As the daughter sipped from the goblet, an image of the small boat she knew so well appeared at the bottom of the cup, the young boatman steering calmly through the peaceful stream of water.
Suddenly the raven-haired girl remembered the happiness she felt when she listened to the alluring music of the boatman. Since he left, the girl had never experienced the joy again, and a pang of regret pulled at her soft heart. The land ceased to give her the warmth she felt as she gazed out the window, waiting for the boatman's daily appearance. Days and nights grew long and empty since his disappearance. Tears filled her eyes as her heart tugged with remorse.
"Oh, peaceful boatman. Your love was the truest love I have ever known. A love I could never obtain again from anyone else. I was wrong in turning you away. Wherever you are, I hope you can feel the longing I have for your passionate tunes and true love!" she cried tearfully, holding the cup tightly in her grasp. A single sorrowful teardrop rolled down her rosy cheeks and slid into the goblet. With the single drop, the goblet shattered into pieces. Then, a sudden breeze rushed through window and slowly lifted the tint pieces of the jade, sailing them softly out into the dark night. Mixed with the breeze, the sound of the flute blended with the bird's night song, emitting indescribable notes. This time, it was the boatman's song, but the notes more harmonious and filled with glee. He had won the daughter's heart, and his soul was finally at peace.