Grim, page 14
had an inside source—his fiancée.
She let them in through the kitchen
door. “The princess and her prince
are in the library, taking tea. Come
with me.” She led them up a back
staircase to the uppermost floor.
The library was immense, and books
spilled from floor-to-ceiling shelves.
The door to the veranda was open,
and a lovely cool breeze blew in
from the sea. The princess and her
young man sat close to the open
air, with their backs to the hallway
door. But K was not in the room.
Greta breathed a loud sigh of relief
before breaking down in tears,
startling the princess. “Who are you,
and how did you find your way in here?”
She might have called for the guards,
but the strange girl was so distraught,
instead she said, “Tell me your story.”
When Greta finished, the princess, too,
was crying, and even the prince (for,
indeed, they had married) had a shine
to his eyes. “How can we help you?
Will you dine with us and stay the night?”
Greta agreed to start her journey
fresh in the morning. When she woke,
a small carriage and two coachmen
waited for her at the castle door.
“Oh, thank you!” she called toward
the library windows as she climbed
up inside. “Farewell, friends.” She did
not know that the royal couple lounged
late in bed that morning, nor that
they were unaware of the generous gift.
Act Five
Neither could Greta know that the road
was infamous in the land, or that they
traveled toward the heart of the Forest
of Thieves. She was too content to nibble
on the figs and scones provided, a gift
from the Demon King, who was well
aware of her journey and its possible
consequences. Before long, she swooned
with drowsiness, and when she woke,
it was with a jolt. “Who dares trespass
in our woods?” A time-shriveled face
materialized at the window. “Why,
it’s a lass, and a comely one at that. Get
out, get out. I suspect you are quite tender
and will make a splendid meal.” Greta’s
head was still thick and she heard only
what she wanted to, which was “Get out
and I will make you a splendid meal.”
She wasn’t really hungry, but didn’t
want to seem rude, so she climbed
down from the coach, where she was
apprehended by a band of thieves.
Greta might have found herself upon
a serving platter, had the youngest
of the bunch not taken an interest.
“Leave her be, Mother,” she commanded.
“Let me interrogate her, see what her
business here might be. Perhaps, should
she disappear, someone might come
looking for her.” Now, the girl, Phoebe,
was simply in want of some company.
Thieves, on the whole, are a closemouthed
lot, and not much good for conversation.
She took Greta by the hand, pulled
her off toward their camp as the thieves
dismantled the coach piece by piece.
“Tell me, girl, why are you here? I’m
in need of a good story. Recite it well
and I’ll make sure it’s rabbit on the table
tonight.” Greta repeated her tale, and
it brought tears to Phoebe’s eyes, for
such love could warm even the coldest heart.
The encampment was cheered by
a ring of fire, circled by substantial
tents. On the far perimeter, the horses
were kept and, much to Greta’s delight,
in their midst stood a reindeer. He looked
hungry, so she fed him two of the garden
fruits from her pockets. In the highest
boughs of the tall pines roosted pigeons—
ugly birds, and not the brightest. But in one
nest a pair of mourning doves cooed.
Greta quite enjoyed their soft song,
and sought to reward it with another
of the fruits. Amiably, she nibbled one,
too, and suddenly understood her danger.
While the robbers saw to supper, Phoebe
asked Greta to tell her more about K,
and how he had come to vanish.
The doves overheard and after a while
began to coo in the language of men,
which the fruit had given them.
“We saw your young man, K, you call
him. He passed this way, sitting beneath
an ermine wrap in a sleigh beside
the Snow Queen. To Lapland, they went.”
While pigeons are terrible gossips,
and rumor is a tool of the devil,
the Demon King holds no jurisdiction
over doves or caribou. “Lapland!” cried
the reindeer, possessed of human speech.
“That was my home when I was a calf.”
Greta drew close to the downy-coated
animal, whispered into his ear, “If I can
secure your freedom, will you take me
to Lapland and help find the place where
the Snow Queen has sequestered K?”
The reindeer agreed happily, for the idea
of running upon the snowy plains
of his homeland again filled him with joy.
Greta waited until after the evening feast,
when the thieves all took to swigging
amber liquid from a very large bottle.
Eventually, they all staggered off to bed.
It was then she approached Phoebe,
who had drunk not a little herself
and toyed nervously with a very sharp
knife. “Put your weapon down, friend.
You know my quest. Will you help me
on my way again? I have little to give—”
“Are you a spell caster?” interrupted
Phoebe, for she had witnessed
the change in the animals. “Share
the secret of your incantation and
I shall let you go.” In truth, magic
made her nervous, though she lusted
for such power. “I am not a witch,
only a girl. I gathered the fruit
of knowledge from a tree in a garden
far from here. If it’s of use to you,
I will share what I have. But you must
promise to let the reindeer carry me
on my journey.” The deal was struck.
Greta gave Phoebe half the remaining
fruit, and the thief untied the reindeer.
Greta climbed upon his back. But before
she could go, Phoebe stopped her. In a quite
uncommon gesture, most likely spurred
by rum consumption, she wrapped
Greta in a thick cloak and gave her
a hamper stuffed with meat and bread.
“Lapland is cold all year round, and winter
fast approaches. Godspeed.” The reindeer
ran off before she could change her mind.
Act Six
The only knowledge the reindeer
needed to find the most direct route
to Lapland was instinct, drawing him
home. The line they took was straight,
but still it took many days, and by
the time they reached his familiar turf,
the hamper was empty, and so was
Greta’s stomach. A small trail of smoke
led the reindeer to a lopsided cabin
at the very edge of the snowy plain.
“Oh! See how it tilts. However does it
stay standing?” wondered Greta out
loud. She was almost afraid to knock
on the door, thinking the tapping
might tip the structure all the way over.
But the house stayed mostly upright
and the old Laplander woman who
answered was happy enough to let
them inside and fill Greta’s belly
with the excellent fish she had been
preparing. As she cooked, the reindeer
repeated Greta’s story, but only after
his own, which he thought the most
fascinating. “You have come such a very
long way,” said the woman, “but you have
farther to go. I saw the Snow Queen pass
by not long ago. She has a home in Finland,
and that, I’m sure, is where she is now.
My dearest cousin lives in Finland,
and she knows more about the Snow
Queen than I do. I will send you with
an introduction, for she is shy about
strangers, even those as interesting
as the two of you. But, please, take my
spare muff, as it is much colder there.”
And so, they were off again, toward
the Northern Lights, which danced
in the sky, leading them to Finland.
The Lapland woman gave Greta a pouch
of dried fish, for her cousin loved the treat
and found it hard to come by. On the skin,
she wrote, Please help this young lady
in her search for the Snow Queen.
Her story has touched my heart, which
I have long believed immune to such
things as love. Oh, cousin! How I miss
my soldier, so long gone, and I know
it must be the same for you. So many
have stories, often left untold except
in certain company. So many, whose
lives are changed forever at the hands
of the Demon King. But Greta knew
nothing of this as she resumed her journey.
After many more hours of travel, the reindeer
stopped before the Finland woman’s home,
which stood much straighter than that
of her Laplander cousin. Indeed,
Greta found the Finland woman quite
suspicious of strangers at her door.
But the pouch, with its message on
the skin, plus the delicious dried fish
inside, was enough to allow her through
the door. Again, she talked about her K
with such affection that the Finland
woman nearly swooned from the telling.
“Dear, dear girl. The Snow Queen is even
now only a mile from here. But you will
not easily gain entrance to her palace.
She wears the curse of the Demon King,
and it both controls and protects her.”
The reindeer then drew the woman
to one side and asked whether she might
possess some potion or other means to
give Greta the strength to fight the curse.
“The girl needs nothing from me,” responded
the Finlander. “She holds a powerful weapon.
Neither demon nor queen can conquer it.”
The reindeer understood, and when
Greta urged, “Please, can we go to K
right this moment?” they left without
delay, and he ran as fast as he could
to the Snow Queen’s palace. He set
Greta down beside a bush adorned
with red berries. “You have fulfilled
your promise.” Greta stroked his forehead
gently. “You are free.” The reindeer
was happy enough for his freedom,
yet left reluctantly, for he had come
to care deeply for the girl and her quest.
Unbeknownst to either of them, word
of their arrival had rippled to the lair
of the Demon King. He conjured, from
shards of ice, a company of sharp-
quilled porcupines and razor-clawed
wildcats, and raptors with talons like knives.
In the ever-dusk of winter solstice,
the beasts came marching, and for
the first time since her journey began,
Greta felt truly afraid. “Our father...”
She sent the words of the Lord’s Prayer
toward heaven. With each expelled breath,
her frozen exhale formed an angel, and
soon an entire phalanx, wearing
helmets and carrying spears. They thrust
them into the ice-hewn beasts, shattering
them into hailstones, insignificant
in size. With the help of her heavenly
protectors, Greta marched straight
up to the door, and it opened for her
as if commanded. The hair at her nape
pricked. Her face flushed hot, despite
the cold. And she knew, “K is very near.”
Act Seven
K, in fact, was very near, but though
Greta’s intuition screamed it was so,
just down a long corridor and across
a frozen hall, he couldn’t feel her presence
at the door. Couldn’t hear the sound
of her call or smell the drift of roses
on the air. K lay, prone, on a polar-bear skin,
at the foot of the Snow Queen’s throne.
His color was an odd shade of blue,
bordering black. He would have been
dead of the cold already, except every
now and again, his queen would warm
him with the heat of her gaze, and her hot
cold lips would graze his face, enough
to keep him barely alive. All this, Greta
saw in the instant she burst into the hall,
flanked by angels so beautiful their very
presence lit the chamber. As it happened,
it was the afternoon of the winter solstice,
the one day of the year when the Snow
Queen could discern beauty. At the sight
of the angels, she fell to her knees. “Oh!
Never have I witnessed such a thing, not
even when I was a child.” She wept openly.
K stirred from his oblivion. “What is it?”
he asked, struggling to sit upright.
“What do you see?” But when Greta rushed
to his side, he couldn’t recognize her,
for she looked ugly as any old hag, with
the piece of mirror still lodged in his eye.
“What is it? What do you want from me?”
Greta drew back, horrified that her K
didn’t know her. But an angel whispered
in her ear, reminding her of the power
of the Demon King’s enchantment. Greta
reached into her pocket, withdrew
the last of the fruit from the garden tree.
“Please. Eat. This will make you strong
again.” K might have refused, except
the angel fixed him with her eyes, and as
he stared into the depths of their
pools, he was encouraged to taste
the fruit the girl offered. One bite,
and he knew. “Greta? Yes, Greta. I know
you...” A rush of memory flooded
his eyes, washing the evil shard away.
“You are as beautiful as your guardians.”
He opened his arms and Greta fell into
them eagerly, her own eyes wet against
his chest. The salt of her tears soaked
through his shirt, skin and flesh and
breastbone, all the way into his heart.
It began to thaw immediately, beating
surer and louder. As blood coursed, warm,
through his veins, K flushed, and without
thinking, he kissed Greta full on the lips.
The gesture filled the Snow Queen
with hope that such love might still
await her somewhere. “You shall stay
