The Goblin Bride
an old-fashioned fairy tale
Once upon a time, a young girl was walking the dark forest path, going to the market for her Mother. The road was long and wound through many miles of shadowed woods before it came to the town. She carried her basket over one arm, with the money inside of it to buy food for her Mother. The lonesome wind moaned through the trees and pulled at the ends of her shawl.
"Good day, little lady," said a soft voice behind her. "Where does the wind blow you today?"
The girl turned and there, standing in the middle of the road, was the queerest little man she had ever seen. He was no taller than she, but had long arms and legs and a long crooked nose. His coat was bright red, with shining silver buttons and a fine sword hung about his waist.
"Good day, my Lord," she said, for she was a polite child. "I am going to the market, for my Mother is ill."
"But child," said the queer little man, "how can you leave your Mother alone, while you go off to market?"
"She is not alone, Sir. Our neighbor, the Doctor, is taking care of her while I am away."
"I see," said the little man, and he began to walk beside her. "You are a most caring and thoughtful girl. Tell me, my little lady, have you eaten today?"
"No, Sir," said the girl. "I had to start off before breakfast, because the village is so far."
"Then I have something for you," he said and he pulled from his pocket a beautiful ripe plum. "A kind little girl deserves a treat."
"Thank you, Sir," she said and took the fruit. She ate a bite and it was the most wonderful thing she had ever tasted, sweet and sour and juicy.
When she looked up again from the plum, the little man was gone.
The sun was long set behind the trees when the little girl arrived home. Her basket was full and weighing down her young arms, and the purple fringe of her shawl brushed her knees.
"Where have you been?" scolded her mother.
"To market," said the girl, though she could barely remember going.
"You must be more careful, child! The Doctor told me that there have been Goblins seen in the forest again and they will steal away naughty little girls who are not careful."
"Yes, Mother," said the girl.
The next week, her mother was still not well. The girl got her basket ready for the trip to market and her mother sighed. "Child, I do believe you've grown. How fast our little ones grow up." The girl thought this must be true, for the hem of her kirtle now brushed her ankles, where once it had touched the ground. She promised her mother she would be careful and be home before nightfall.
All the same, she set off before breakfast the next morning, through the many miles of forest. The wind blew up once more and flapped the hem of her kirtle, and before she had gone far she heard the soft voice speak again.
"Good day, little lady," it said. And there again stood the queer little man in his rich red coat.
"Good day, my Lord," she said with a little curtsy.
He bowed very low to her and took up walking by her side. "Where does the wind blow you today, my dear?"
"I am going to market, Sir, for my Mother is still abed and cannot go."
"I see," he said. "And have you no Father, to watch over your Mother and give you away to wed?"
"None, Sir," said she, "for my Father died many years ago."
"I am sorry to hear that," said the little man, and his bright eyes were sad. "You are such a kind, caring girl, to watch over your Mother so, that you deserve something special." With that he drew from his pocket a beautiful apple that shone red in the light, and gave it to her.
"Thank you, Sir," she said, for she was a polite girl. When she bit into it, it was like eating a piece of a sunset, the most wonderful, crisp apple; tasting as though she had just pulled it off a golden tree. But when she looked up from the fruit, the little man was gone.
The forest was dark when the girl stepped up to her little house. Her basket was heavy in her arms as her Mother looked up from the bed. "Goodness, girl, what took you so long?" Her voice was cross, as all parents' voices are when they have been worried. "And where did you get that ribbon in your hair?"
"I've been to market," said the girl slowly, as though she was not sure herself. She reached up to her hair and felt a ribbon run through it in an elegant braid. When she pulled, the ribbon slid into her hand, rich red, like a velvet coat or the skin of an apple...
The next week, the Doctor came again to see the girl's Mother. He smiled and nodded at the girl and said, "My, how you've grown. Why, it seems just yesterday you were a little girl I could bounce on my knee. Your Mother is getting better, but she is not yet well enough to work, so I will watch her while you go out."
So the girl set out to the market, in one of her Mother's old dresses, as a child's kirtle would no longer fit her. The ribbon in her hair was a brilliant red.
The sun barely shone through the tall, fearsome trees, but the girl did not notice the gloom, anxious as she was to see what was ahead.
"Good day, little lady," said a soft voice. The little man stood in the path behind her, the buttons of the red coat glinting in the light, his arms and legs still seemed long, though he stood no taller than her shoulder.
"Good day, my Lord," said she.
"How fares your Mother this day, dear girl?"
"She is much recovered, Sir. The Doctor says she will rise again soon."
"I see," he said. "I have a last gift for you, if you will accept it." He held out a little cloth, in which was a honeycomb as golden as sunlight, filled with sweet honey.
The girl took the honeycomb, but she did not eat it, nor did she take her eyes off the little man. "Thank you, Sir," she said.
"Where does the wind blow you this day, my dear?"
The young woman, for so she was, looked up to the sky. "The wind blows me no way, my Lord. I am free to choose my own path."
"Then will you come with me, love, and live in my home? For the Doctor is with your Mother, and they will care for each other."
"I will," said the young woman, and took his hand.
A cloud blocked the sun for an instant and when it passed, the golden light showed naught but a basket, lying as though dropped, in the middle of the road.
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A/N-- not exactly how I wanted it, but nearly.