Beauty and the Beast
by: Tiger Lily21
A/N: Finally, after several days, I have finally written something else for NaNoWriMo that I can post on here. This is only part one of the story; I plan to write the next big part over the next few days. I've given up on writing a story a day. It doesn't work and it's annoying being behind on stories but ahead on word count.
Anyways, this is, well, basically my masterpiece. Sort of. One of them anyways. I've tried writing it as a novel-length story several times and never got through the whole thing. Then I told it aloud to a group of kids I have this summer and I told the whole story and was quite proud of myself. I decided it should be a "short story" (none of my stories are really short, as you've seen). I hope you'll enjoy this first part. I've embellished it a bit more than the story I told aloud, because it's easier to do that on paper. Plus, people will read more than they will listen to (especially when the readers are, I presume, older than the six year olds I told this particular story too). Thank you for the lovely reviews on the other chapters and I look forward to hearing from you again. Look for another update by the end of the week, hopefully.
The village of Linchester in Arenia was a small but pleasant one. Lord Mortimer Verdon ruled over the town. He was a fair man and did his best to treat the townspeople with respect. His large manor was situated on a hill slightly to the east. Below it, the town and the villagers' homes spread out in neat little rows, stopping at the very edge of the great forest. The main part of town consisted of various shops, a tavern, a church, and a schoolhouse.
Linchester was very proud of its schoolhouse, which was rumored to be one of the finest in the area. It was built of gray brick with a stone floor inside. Although it had only one room, it was a large room, able to hold up to thirty children and the teacher. Most days there weren't more than fifteen children at the school, but the villagers were very proud to say that if they ever needed to, they could fit twice that many children in the schoolhouse.
The pride and joy of the school, however, was not the building itself but the teacher. Miss Charlotte Morris was the youngest daughter of Phillip Morris, the owner of the general store. He had been a merchant at one time but had lost his fortune and moved to Linchester to start a new life. Charlotte had been only seven at the time, but she had grown up in Linchester. When she was sixteen she had taken up the job of teaching school and had had it for the past six years.
The parents of Linchester loved her because she taught their children so well. Every child in Linchester who attended the school could read, write, do arithmetic, and find Linchester on a map of Arenia, and spell more words than their parents. The children loved her for a different reason. Any child in Linchester would tell you in half a second that Miss Morris told the best stories of anyone in town.
Every day, just before it was time for the children to come home, Miss Morris led them out onto the front steps of the schoolhouse and sat down to tell them a story. Normally they were tales the children had heard before, from their parents or grandparents, but Miss Morris told them differently. She added to them or twisted them about so that even if she told the same story every day for a week it was never the one she'd told the day before.
On the last day of school, Miss Morris led the children out of the steps one last time.
"This is our last day together for a while," she said, "so I want to tell you all a very special story today."
"Is it a new one?" one of the children asked.
"Is it exciting?" another chimed in.
"Is there a monster?"
"No! I don't want monsters! I want a love story. Is it a love story, Miss Morris?"
"Eww!"
Miss Morris laughed and held up a hand. She waited for the children to fall silent and then said, "This story is a very sad one, but it's one of my favorites. My mother told it to me when I was very little.
"Tell us, tell us!" the children cried.
Miss Morris smiled. "Very well," she said, and began.
"Once upon a time, long, long ago, a king and queen had two children, a princess and a prince. The children were very close and loved each other very much, but when the prince was ten years old, his older sister left home to get married. Before she left, she gave the prince a tiny glass rose. 'Keep it to remember me by,' she said.
"The prince treasured the rose, but he grew lonely. At first, he stayed in the castle, wandering around all the rooms where he and his sister had spent time together. Gradually, though, his loneliness turned to anger. He began spending all his time outside in the palace grounds, running around and making mischief. His parents didn't know what to do with him, so they just let him run wild.
"One day, when the prince was sixteen, he went out for a ride on his horse. He rode out of the palace gates and onto the main road. He rode without knowing where he was going. Suddenly a young woman ran onto the road in front of him. The prince reigned in his horse just in time to avoid her. He was about to say something harsh to her when he saw her face. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The prince was smitten.
"He leapt off his horse and bowed low. 'Forgive me,' he said. 'Are you all right, miss?'
"The young woman smiled. The prince felt as though his heart had flipped over in his chest. Then she spoke in a voice like birdsong and bells all rolled into one. 'I am fine, thank you, sir,' she said. Those simple words were enough to make the prince's head whirl.
"He held out his hand. 'Come back to my castle with me,' he said. 'I want you to meet my parents.'
"The young woman laughed but she took his hand and let him swing her up onto his horse. They rode back to the castle together and the prince ecstatically introduced her to his parents, who invited her to stay with them at the castle.
"For the next few months the prince and his mysterious guest spent every moment of every day together. He showed her all his favorite spots in the castle. She whispered strange secrets in his ear and every day he fell more and more in love with her.
"Finally one day he could hold it in no longer. He took her out to the gardens and knelt in front of her, holding the glass rose in one hand. 'I love you,' he said. 'I love you so very, very much. Marry me, please!'
"She laughed in his face. 'You foolish boy! Do you really think I'd marry you? You don't even know who I really am!'
"Then, suddenly, she changed. There was no flash of light or a bang. She simply seemed to shift and twist until she was no longer a beautiful, slender young woman, but a tall and terrifying sorceress. She raised a hand and pointed at the prince, who trembled on the ground before her. 'Forgive me,' he begged. 'Forgive me! I didn't know!'
"The sorceress laughed again. 'You didn't know,' she mocked. Her voice was no longer like bells and birdsong but like thunder. It crashed over him and he cowered, covering his head with his arms. 'You fool!' the sorceress continued. 'You have insulted me and now you will pay!' A ball of light flew from her fingers and hit the prince. He fell backwards and knew no more. The glass rose shattered on the ground.
"The young prince and the sorceress both vanished after that. No one knew what had happened to them. The king and queen were heartbroken, but there was nothing they could do. At first they sent out search parties, thinking he'd run off with his lady love, but they never found him. Eventually the king and queen gave up and, when they died, their daughter and her husband took the throne. No one ever found the prince or the sorceress, and eventually most people forgot about it, except as a story--the very story which I have just told to you."
As she spoke the last word, Miss Morris stood up. "And now it's time for all of you to go home for the night, and for the rest of the summer."
The children stood up as well, quieter than they had been on other days, and started off down the steps. Charlotte watched them go with a smile, then headed back into the schoolhouse to tidy up. After sweeping the floor and gathering up the papers and books on her own desk at the front of the room, she walked out of the schoolhouse again and locked the door behind her. Books and papers in her arms, she headed toward home, still thinking about the story she had told.
She had thought about the story many times before. It was one of her favorite tales. As a child she had made up all sorts of things that had happened to the young prince. She had made his mysterious lady love into a secret assassin, a kidnapper working for a jealous cousin of the royal like, even just a simple girl who refused him and broke his heart so he ran away from home.
In years past, however, the sorceress idea had become her favorite. The only problem was that the story did not have a satisfactory ending. The prince and the sorceress both simply vanished. What was the light that came out of the sorceress's fingers? Some sort of magic, obviously, but what did it do to the poor prince? Did it kill him? Or did it just knock him out or turn him into something else to give the sorceress a chance to take him away from the palace? If she did take him away, where did she take him, and what did she do with him? There were entirely too many questions and too few answers.
Of course, she thought, it's just a story and probably never happened. Still, it's interesting to think about.
With that she put the story out of her mind and began thinking of other things, such as what she was going to make for supper that night.
#
The Morris house stood on the outskirts of town, near the forest. It was a quaint little place, more of a cottage than a house, but it was big enough for Charlotte, her two older sisters Dorine and Petunia, and their father. Neither Dorine nor Petunia had ever taken to doing the housework--cooking, straightening up the tiny kitchen, the parlor, and the bedrooms, doing the family laundry, and tending the garden behind the house--so Charlotte took it upon herself. She had to do most of it in the evenings and on Saturdays but for the most part she enjoyed it.
Charlotte arrived home that night to find her sisters in the parlor, working on their latest embroidery projects. They both looked up when they heard the door.
"Charlotte, what's for supper?" Dorine asked as Charlotte set down her books and papers on an empty chair.
"I'm not sure yet," said Charlotte. "I'll have to see what we have left in the kitchen, and what's ripe in the garden. Supper probably won't be ready for at least an hour."
"Wilbur's cook brought something by about an hour ago," said Petunia. "He's such a dear, sending over food to help us. I had the man leave it on the table."
"Why should he?" snapped Dorine. "Does he think we're so poor we can't afford our own food?"
Charlotte shook her head and walked into the kitchen as her sisters began squabbling again. Wilbur Verdon, Lord Verdon's son, had been courting Petunia for the past month, a fact which annoyed Dorine no end. As the eldest, she felt it was unfair for her younger sisters to have suitors before she did. Not that Charlotte had any. None of the young men in town seemed interested in her and she usually paid them very little attention.
In the kitchen Charlotte tied on an apron and looked at the gift the Verdon's cook had left on the table. It was a covered platter. Charlotte lifted the cover to reveal a small but well-prepared ham.
"This is wonderful!" she called. "They gave us a ham! I'll warm it up, cut some bread, and prepare a salad and we can have supper in about half an hour."
Neither of her sisters answered. She could hear them, still arguing about Wilbur Verdon. Charlotte shook her head slightly and set about fixing supper. She put the ham in the oven to warm along with a loaf of bread, then went out to the garden to gather vegetables. There were tomatoes and peas ripe, as well as a few carrots and a head of lettuce. Charlotte brought them back inside and began chopping them up, humming a bit as she worked.
Within half an hour the meal was prepared, just as she had said it would be. She set the table then went back to the parlor. Dorine and Petunia had stopped fighting at last and were now doing their best to ignore each other.
"It's time for supper," said Charlotte. "Where's Papa?"
"He's been in his bedroom all afternoon," said Dorine. "He came home early and shut himself up in there. I don't know what he's been doing."
"I'll fetch him then," said Charlotte. She walked down the hall toward her father's room. The door was closed. She knocked. "Papa? It's time for supper. Lord Verdon's cook sent us a ham."
"I'll be out in a minute," her father called through the door.
"No Papa, you need to come out now," said Charlotte in the voice she used with her students when they were disobedient. "Supper is ready and it'll get cold if you don't come out now."
She heard her father laugh. He opened the door and stepped out. "That's not fair, my dear," he said. "You used your teacher voice on me."
Charlotte smiled. "I am a teacher, Papa. Now come along. Supper's waiting."
She allowed him to go ahead of her and studied him as they walked back toward the kitchen. Her father had once been a handsome man, tall and muscular. Now he was bent with age and worry, his hair was gray,and his hazel eyes did not have as much spark as they once had. Even so, there was still something in his face and his voice sometimes that reminded Charlotte of who he had been back when she was a tiny child, when they had lived in the city.
The two of them sat at the table with her sisters. The family gave thanks for the food and then Mr. Morris carved the ham and served it. Charlotte took the opportunity to study her sisters as they ate. Dorine was slender and pale, with long golden hair that she was extremely proud of. She was three years older than Charlotte and remembered the 'old days' far more clearly than Charlotte and Petunia did. She longed to be rich again. Petunia sat next to her, plump and rosy-cheeked with black hair and emerald green eyes that many men in town--including Wilbur Verdon--admired. She longed for finery as much as Dorine did, but she intended to get it through marriage.
Charlotte wondered, as she often had before, how she fit in with her family. Her eyes were amber with flecks of green and her hair was mouse brown. She did not have Dorine's slender frame or Petunia's curvier hourglass figure. She towered over both her sisters and her father. She thought that perhaps she took after her mother, whom she only vaguely remembered. She had a picture of a kind face and a memory of a low, lilting voice singing and telling the story of the lost prince.
"Charlotte! Charlotte, pay attention!"
Dorine's sharp voice dragged Charlotte out of her reverie. She blinked several times. "I'm sorry. What?"
"I asked you to pass the salad five times," said Dorine sourly.
"I'm sorry," Charlotte said again and passed the dish. Dorine took it and refilled her plate, rolling her eyes as she did.
"Sometimes I wonder where you go when you drift off like that," she said, scowling.
Charlotte laughed. "I wish I could tell you," she said, ignoring Dorine's disgusted tone. She turned to her father. "What have you been doing all day, Papa? Dorine said you came home early."
Her father smiled. "I'm glad you asked, my dear," he said. "As it happens, I have been packing for a very important trip. I've asked Thomas Bell to run the store for me while I am away because I will be going to the capital for a few months."
"Why, Papa?" asked Petunia excitedly.
"Because I received a letter today from an old colleague," he said. "He has asked me to come and help him with a business endeavor. If it's successful, he will give me a good percentage of the profits."
Dorine squealed. "Does this mean we'll be able to leave Linchester, Papa?" she asked.
"No," he said. Dorine's face fell, but her father continued. "However, it does mean that I will have enough money to buy you girls some things I haven't been able to buy before. Is there anything you would like me to bring back for you?"
Dorine's face brightened again. Petunia's green eyes sparkled.
"A golden dress!" Dorine said eagerly. "With diamonds sewn onto it, in the very latest--"
"An emerald necklace," said Petunia before Dorine had finished, "With a ruby pendant in the middle cut in the shape of a heart!"
The sisters glared at each other, but before they could start fighting, their father asked, "And what for you, Charlotte? What would you like?"
"Oh I don't want anything, Father," said Charlotte.
Dorine made a noise that might have been a snort if it had come from a young woman of lesser breeding. "Of course you don't want anything, Charlotte," she said. "What could you possibly want beside this tiny little house, your plain, handmade clothes, that horrid garden outside, and all those loud children you teach every day?"
Petunia giggled. "I think she just wants something Father can't possibly find for her," she said. "Like a husband."
"I have no desire for a husband," said Charlotte indignantly, "and I love our home here. I'm very glad that Father is going on this trip and getting more money from it, but if I don't ask for anything then he'll have more to buy your gifts."
"Don't be stupid," said Dorine. "Father will make plenty of money. Won't you, Father?"
"I will make a good deal of money if the endeavor is successful," said Mr. Morris. "It won't be a fortune, but it will certainly be enough for me to get something for each of you. Come now, Charlotte, you must want something. New books for your students? Seeds for your garden? Perhaps you could plant some flowers this year."
Charlotte thought for a moment. Then it came to her: something small and simple that she really did want. It would be easy to find in the city and not expensive at all. "Father," she said, "if you truly want to bring me a present, I would like a little glass rose."
"A glass rose?" her father repeated as her sisters burst into laughter.
"Yes," she said. "A little rose made out of spun glass."
"If that is what you really want, my dear, then I will find you a glass rose."
"Thank you, Father," said Charlotte with a smile.
"When do you leave, Father?" asked Dorine. Petunia was still attempting to get her giggles under control.
"Tomorrow morning," said Mr. Morris.
#
Mr. Morris left directly after breakfast the next morning on a horse he borrowed from Lord Verdon. Dorine and Petunia cried as they watched him ride away. Charlotte watched through the kitchen window as she heated water on the stove, preparing to scrub the house from top to bottom. If a few tears escaped her and fell into the water as she poured it into the pot over the fire, no one noticed.
Mr. Morris's business with his old friend lasted two months and went very well. When the profit came, they split it equally and Mr. Morris headed out into the city to find or commission the gifts his daughters had requested. He had Dorine's gold and diamond gown created by the most talented tailors. He ordered Petunia's emerald and ruby necklace from the finest jewelers. While he waited for the masterpieces to be completed, he searched the entire city for the perfect glass rose. He went to every glassblower in the city, but none of them could make one that pleased him. None of their work was fine enough for his Charlotte. Though he would never have told any of them, Charlotte was his favorite daughter. Her levelheadedness, her kindness, and her stories all reminded him of his late wife, who had loved very much. If all she wanted was a glass rose, he would find her the best one he could.
After another month the dress and the necklace were ready, but Mr. Morris still hadn't found the right glass rose. Even so, he could not put off going home any longer. He missed his daughters, and he could not keep Lord Verdon's horse much longer either. He collected the gown and the necklace and then went to the glassblower who had made the finest attempt at a glass rose. He bought it with a heavy heart, knowing that it wasn't good enough, and headed for home.
On the way to the city he had ridden along the main road. On the way home, he decided to take a shorter route through the forest. He had never taken it before, but the path was well-defined and he wanted to get home quickly. Unfortunately, he had forgotten the stories about the forest. It was said to be haunted or enchanted. The trees were known to shift and the path never quite stayed in the same place. So it was that Mr. Morris ended up completely lost that night. He rode for ages before finally admitting it to himself.
When he finally did, it was dark and his horse was tired. He urged it onward. At last, when both he and the horse were absolutely exhausted, he stopped the poor creature and dismounted. He tied it to a nearby tree and lay down beside it. He told himself that he would find the path again in the morning. He went to sleep unconvinced of the truth of those words.
He woke, to his utter astonishment, on something soft instead of on the hard ground where he had been. He sat up and found himself on a wide couch in an unfamiliar room. There was a fireplace nearby and a table in front of it with a delicious-smelling breakfast on it. For a moment he wondered where he was and how he had gotten there. Then his stomach growled and the smell of the food on the table filled his nose and suddenly, he found he didn't care where he was. He stood, walked to the table, and sat. He ate heartily, until he could eat no more. Only then did his conscience kick in.
He pushed his chair back from the table, feeling extremely guilty. After all, it had not been his food to eat. On the other hand, he had woken up in the room with it. Someone had obviously been expected him to wake up and need something to eat. For that matter, someone had brought him into the room in the first place. Someone had found him in the forest and taken him in.
I'll find my host and thank him and then I'll be on my way, he decided. That's the proper thing to do, considering the circumstances.
"Hello?" he called, wondering if his host was in the room and he merely hadn't seen him. "If you can hear me, I want to thank you for your hospitality. You are very kind."
No answer. Mr. Morris left the room and found himself in a corridor. There were lit candelabras on the walls. THe passage seemed to branch off in two directions. Mr. Morris tried the left one first. He followed it for a great distance, occasionally calling out his message of gratitude again, but he found no one. After a while, he turned back and took the right hand passage. Still he found no one. Finally he turned back one more time and took the center passage. This one branched off into more corridors. He continued down the main one until it opened into what seemed to be an entrance hall. There was a staircase to his right and large wooden doors straight ahead of him. He called his message one last time, hoping that the owner of the place had heard him. He was about to turn and head for the doors, hoping they led outside, when he saw it.
It was on a little table on the wall opposite the staircase. He had walked right past it. There, in a thin vase, was the most beautiful spun glass rose he had ever seen. It seemed to have been waiting for him. He walked over to it as if in a trance. Slowly he reached out and plucked it from the vase. It was made of colored glass--red for the blossom and green for the stem. The flower seemed to be in full bloom and there were tiny thorns on the stem. He held it up to the light and studied it. Then he moved to slip it into his jacket pocket, intending to pull out a handful of coins to leave in its place. Before he could place the rose in his pocket or the coins on the table, however, he heard a ferocious roar.
He stumbled back, turned to face the source of the roar, and nearly dropped the rose. A terrible beast stood at the end of the corridor. It was covered all over in dark brown fur that was standing on end, a lionlike mane, a wolfish snout and tail, the body of a bear and the great horns of a ram on its head. Its eyes glowed and it bared its teeth at him. Mr. Morris shook with fear as he looked at it. Then it spoke.
"Do not drop that rose or I will slay you where you stand, human," it said in a deep growl.
Mr. Morris grasped the rose so tightly in his hand that the glass thorns cut into his palm. "I...I'm sorry," he stammered. "I meant no harm. I only thought--"
"You thought you would take my rose from me?" the beast said. "After I took you in and gave you a place to sleep and food to eat when you woke, you chose to repay me by stealing my most prized possession?"
"I did not mean to steal it!" Mr. Morris cried. "I was going to leave payment."
"How can you pay for something that is priceless?" the beast growled. "You foolish man. I ought to kill you now."
"Please don't! Please, sir, I have a family."
The beast seemed taken aback, if that were possible. "A family?" it repeated.
"Yes,a family. A wonderful family," said Mr. Morris, knowing that he was babbling and not caring in the slightest. "I have three daughters, Dorine, Petunia, and Charlotte. They need me. They cannot live without me, not with school being out of session right now and Tom Bell running the shop. I must get back to them. I must. And I promised them presents but I couldn't find a glass rose for Charlotte. It was all she asked for but I couldn't find the right one until now. This is a beautiful rose. She would love it. She--"
"Be quiet!" the beast roared. Mr. Morris shut his mouth immediately. "Now," the beast continued, "you say you have daughters, including one who asked for a glass rose like mine?"
"Yes, sir," said Mr. Morris. "Charlotte, my youngest. It was all she wanted. I promised her one."
"Then she shall have one," said the beast. "She shall have the very one you now hold in your hand. But in exchange, you must bring her back here to me."
"B...b...bring her here?" repeated Mr. Morris.
"Yes," said the beast, baring its terrible teeth again. "Bring me your daughter and I will let you bring her the rose. You have seven days to fulfill this bargain. Otherwise I will come to your home and kill you the way I ought to have killed you today. Now go. You will find your horse where you left him. The path will be on your right and if you follow it all day you will reach your home by nightfall. Now go!"
Mr. Morris put the rose in his pocket and bolted for the door as fast as he could. Outside, he found his horse and the path where the beast had said they would be. He mounted his horse and urged it into a full gallop, eager to leave the beast's home behind.