Death and Dignity

Once upon a time there were two sweet lovers named Thomas and Edith.  Thomas intended to ask for Edith’s hand and so he planned a picnic of sweet rolls and honey and put out a blanket in the woods.  There he showered her with beautiful words and promised her his everlasting love.  

I am sorry to say that before Edith could accept his proposal, the sweet lovers were ambushed by a horde of angry goblins who above all despise the cheerfulness and tenderness of two people in love.  The sweet lovers ran back to their town, hand in hand, pursued by the horde who rained down arrows upon them.  They were able to outrun and avoid the arrows and ran through the front gate just as a guard slammed it shut.  

“Are you hurt, my love?” Thomas asked, breathing like a racehorse. 

“The gods have protected us this day,” Edith said, and they sighed in relief. 

But the guard said, “Woe to you, lass,” as he approached Edith.  She had been stricken by an arrow that sat shallowly in her leg.  

“This tiny thing?” she said, and plucked it as if it were a chicken feather.  “No trouble at all.”

“Woe to you, lass,” repeated the guard, “for this is no ordinary arrow.  It is a goblin arrow, imbued with vile poison.  First you will feel ordinary, then you will fall ill, and in the end you shall perish.”

“Tell me, what is the cure?” asked Thomas.  “I will travel to the ends of the earth to find it!”

“There is no cure,” said the guard sadly.  “But one option still remains, though I cannot speak favorably of it. You must travel to the top of the great Mountain of Life, called Tuama, for there resides the Faerie Queen.  It is said she grants one wish to those who conquer the mountain.”

“Then I shall scale the mountain ‘fore my love is taken from me,” Thomas replied, “and cure her of her ails.”

“And I shall join you,” said Edith.  “Until my legs give out and my feet cease to move, I will not be parted from my beloved.”

“Beware,” said the guard gravely.  “Magic is an unnatural thing and ought not to be taken lightly.  Ascend at your own risk, and be mindful of your request should you make one.  The adage they say is true: ‘Be careful what you wish for.’”

“You speak as one who has never been in love,” Thomas said harshly, and he swept Edith away before another word could be said. 

Thus they traveled all night and the next day with a mule pulling a cart before reaching the bottom of great Mount Tuama, the peak of which pierced the sky.  They had scarcely begun their ascent when Edith halted. 

“I grow weary,” she said, “and would like a rest.”

“Then I must go on,” Thomas said, “for the signs of poison begin to reveal themselves.”

“Nay,” she said, and smiled lightly.  “It is the ordinary weariness of one who has not slept.  Come, let us lie down and find rest and we shall continue our journey on the morrow.” 

“Your cheerfulness gladdens my heart,” he said.  “Let us come around the corner and set up camp.”

But as they turned the corner, to their great surprise, there stood a small wooden cabin with a red door and a thin wisp of smoke coming from the chimney.  Edith’s heart sang at the thought of sleeping by the hearth atop a featherbed, but Thomas’s suspicions ran high at the sight of this cabin in such a strange place alone on the mountain.  Before they had made up their minds on staying or going, a man came out of the cabin and bid them welcome. 

“Come in!” he said.  “For although the hour is late, my charming wife is only now laying out the table and we all can dine together and be merry.  Then we shall make a fire and you will sleep your weariness away.”

But the man was the oddest that Edith or Thomas had ever seen.  He bore a pale white complexion, and had a white tongue and white hair too.  Everything about him was white!  Thomas became uneasy, but Edith, who had always been high-spirited, did not find the jolly white man suspicious. 

“Thank you for your abundant generosity,” she said with a curtsy. 

“I could not refuse a lady so delightful,” he said.  “And climbing the mountain, yes?  A fine decision.  My trek made me the happiest man in the world.”

“I find myself ill at ease,” Thomas said quietly to Edith.

“Peculiar, yes,” she whispered back, “but I sense no danger.”  

And with that, she entered the cabin and Thomas followed.  

Inside the home was a scene odder yet than the man himself.  Two children and a woman stood in a line. Like the white man, they were all white themselves, from their white noses down to their white toenails. Unlike the white man, however, they did not smile or welcome the lovers.  They stood as if at attention, silent and unmoved.  Then the white man bid his wife set the table, and she did just that without a word or expression. 

The table was set and the white man spoke loudly and enthusiastically.  He laughed and drank and even tried to sing songs.  But his family stayed silent.  Finally Thomas said what had been on his mind:

“Generous host, have you any counsel for our journey?  You say you’ve been to see the Faerie Queen before?”

“Ah yes, yes I have indeed.  But it was a long while ago, when the children were only small.  Back during the dangerous Orc Uprising.  Nasty days, those.”

“But your children are young still, and my father’s father fought in those wars.  He has been under the ground since before I was born.”

“Oh, I have said too much, haven’t I!”

“Tell me, generous host.  What was your wish?”

“I can’t tell you that, traveler!  For I am the happiest man in the world and I will have no equal!  Haha!  Oh well, it is getting late.  Let me bring you to bed.  Rest now, for the journey will be long and perilous!  Charming wife, please set out sheets and blankets for their bed.  And son, begin to make a fire in the hearth.”

 The sweet lovers went to their room, and as the boy was making the fire Edith bent down and said to him, “Look at your skill!  You are an expert firemaker for one so small.”

The boy looked to her with his hollow, dark eyes.  “I have been making fires for many years.”  Then he scampered away. 

“Many years?” Edith said, and laughed.  “But he’s hardly got many years with which to practice.”

“This is an unnatural place, Edith,” Thomas said.  “We must leave first thing come morn.”

“Indeed, leave first thing,” came a voice.  It was the white man’s wife, finishing putting out bedding.  “Leave and do not climb the mountain.  Curses only come from it, and not wishes.”  Then she disappeared as silently as she had come.  

Edith slept soundly in her bed beside the hearth. But Thomas stayed up and did not sleep a wink, thinking that Edith would get sick in the night, and thinking on curses and wishes.  He watched Edith sleep until the sun came up, then roused her awake.  She looked unwell, but after getting dressed, they left the cabin. 

“Off, are we?”  said the white man, coming out as they left. 

“Our journey is long,” said Thomas, “and my love grows sick.  Thank you for your kindness.”

“Come back when you return,” he said, and grinned.  “I remember the time I set out.  It was the happiest day of my life.  I thought to myself, ‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if this lasted forever…’  Oh, I’ve said too much!”

As they walked on, it became cold and bitter with snow.  Thomas took the wheels off the cart in order to use it as a sleigh, released the mule, and began pulling the cart up himself.  But Edith soon fell down to her hands and knees.  She said she was beginning to feel lightheaded.  Not wanting to part with her, Thomas requested she lay in the cart where he could tuck her in blankets, and he would pull her so that they could arrive at the peak together.  She agreed, and slept soundly while Thomas trudged through the blizzard.  

When he grew weary himself, he found refuge in an old abandoned cave.  He meant to sleep a spell, but every time he dozed off he imagined Edith dying in the cart.  Thus he sat in fitful wakefulness till he felt something cold around his throat. 

I regret to inform you that it was a hand! A cold, skeletal hand belonging to a terrible barrow wight.  Indeed, wights were emerging from all corners of the cave, and Thomas realized he had picked a burial mound for his rest.  He dashed out of the cave with the cart, Edith sleeping all this time.  He ran up the mountain, the wights close at hand.  Just as he was spent and could not pull another step, a large hooded man came and stabbed the wights with a glimmering knife, which then fell and died. 

“Thank you, stranger,” Thomas said. “How have you killed the undead?”

“Magic blade,” the man said, and lowered his hood.  And behold! It was not a man at all but a fearsome orc.  

“I thank you again,” Thomas said.  “I climb the mountain and wish to heal my lover.”

“Come with me then, for I go the same way,” the orc said. “Share your cart.  I will offer you my protection.”

“Agreed,” Thomas said, and they walked on.

Night came and the orc stopped and set up a fire.  Only then did Edith awaken.  

“Hello, fine orc,” she said, but got no response.

“He saved our life,” Thomas said.  Still, the orc said nothing.

“I had a dreadful dream while I slept,” said Edith.  “Death came for me, and I begged and pleaded for him to let me stay.  He would not.”

“Pathetic,” said the orc.  “Only the weak fear death.  The brave take it head on.”

“Is that true?” she said.

“Indeed.  I plan to face my death with dignity.”

“I wish I could be brave like you,” she said.  “Then tell me, orc, what do you plan to wish for at the peak of Tuama, if not to avoid death?”

“I plan to wish for the death of all my enemies,” he responded.  “Thus giving me peace in life.”

“Why not face your enemies ‘head on,’” she replied. 

“You ask too many questions,” he said, and turned his back to her.  Then he went to sleep and would say no more. Edith smiled and shrugged, and then she went to sleep herself.  Thomas, as was his wont, slept not a wink, thinking over what the orc had said while he watched his beloved rest. 

In the morning, everything the orc claimed proved to be untrue.  A voice came from the distance and cried, “Surrender, orc, for we pursued you up this mountain and have found you!  Now you must answer for your crimes!”

It was a prince in shining armor and his band of soldiers.  They were, of course, speaking to the orc, though the crimes he had committed are for another story.  The orc dashed at his enemies and struck several down.  Yet the men overcame him.  They cut his leg and forced him to his knees.  They searched his body, finding his enchanted knife, and tossed it away.  Thomas picked it up and placed it in his cart lest he find more undead.   

“We sentence you to death, criminal orc,” said the prince.  

“Then get it over with,” the orc replied briskly.  

As the prince unsheathed his sword, the orc turned to him sheepishly.  “But I promise you, if you spare my life I will serve you the rest of my days.”

“I do not accept your offer,” the prince replied. 

“Please,” the orc said, and folded his hands in supplication.  “Please, spare me! I do not wish to die! I’ll do anything, pay anything.  I beg of you, dear prince.  I am afraid and cold, and I miss my mother, and–” 

But that is all the orc said.  The prince swung his blade and beheaded the orc.

“Death and dignity…” Thomas said to Edith.  But Edith did not reply.  She was sleeping in the cart.  Her breaths were labored, her skin pale.  “I am sorry, my dear,” he said, and trudged on.

As he walked on, he began to hear a terrible crying and wailing.  

“A banshee heralding death,” Thomas said.  “Upon my word, it will not be Edith’s death, for we are nearly to the peak.”

As he marched on, a small snow hare approached the sweet lovers.  He sniffed around the cart where Edith lay, and then suddenly he let out a great cry.

“It was you!” said Thomas.  “You are the wailing banshee.  Away with you, rabbit!”

“But my cries do not bring woe, but joy,” the rabbit responded.  “Like a bell summoning one home for suppertime.”

“Your cries bring death.  There is no joy in death.”

“Not with your sour attitude. No, not at all!”

Edith began stirring, and then awoke.  “Thomas!” she said.  “Oh, Thomas.  I had a dream, and it was beautiful.  I’d been taken by Death, but it was not sad.  It was restful and blissful and wonderful!  Perhaps… perhaps I do not fear Death anymore.”

“Do not say such things!” he said.  “You will not die yet.  We will live long lives together.  We will have sons who go on to become knights, and daughters who marry rich barons.  Then in our old age, we will hold one another as death takes us.”

“No no no no no,” said the rabbit. “One does not choose the time or place.  One only decides to have an attitude that is sour or no!”

As he said this, Edith fell back to the cart, and Thomas was determined to reach the mountain all the same.  

“Follow me,” the rabbit said.  “I’ll show you the way to the Faerie Queen.”  And they set out and the rabbit led him to a narrow tunnel.  They entered and inside there was a lush forest with a small ravine going through.  

Thomas felt Edith’s forehead. She had gone cold.  He felt her throat and he determined her heart had beat its last. 

“She’s died,” said the rabbit.  “A real shame, for she wanted dearly to die in your arms.  But all your thoughts were on the summit where they did not belong.”

Thomas took a rock from the forest ground and threw it at the rabbit, who skittered away.  “Be gone! It makes no difference! I’ll tell the Faerie Queen to give her back her life!”

He took Edith from the cart and put her by the ravine.  He washed off her limbs and wiped her brow. 

“Good, good,” said the rabbit, hopping back to his side.  “It is good to treat her thus.  Although she is not with us, her memory lives on and ought to be respected.  It is only our love that does this, for you could throw her whole body in the ravine and it would make no bit of difference now.”

“You disgust me, rabbit,” Thomas said.  He placed Edith back in the cart and drew her forward.

Finally he came to it: the summit of the mountain.  It was perfectly still at the top, and although there was snow, it was a hazy warm. 

“Welcome, traveler,” said an enchanting voice.  Through the veil of snow came a woman so beautiful it brought Thomas to tears.  “You have traveled long through a perilous land. Tell me your wish.”

“Thank you, O mighty Queen.  I wish for death to be removed from my beloved.”

“Death cannot be undone,” the Queen said, “but another magical life can be added.”

“Then do it!” Thomas cried.  “Anything to bring my love back to me.”

“As you wish.”

Edith was laid on a stone altar, and then enveloped in a cloud of purple and green.  She rose up and with a giant gust of mountain air, breath was given to her. She opened her eyes and wept. 

“Oh, Thomas.  What have you done?  What have you done?  Just now I was ripped from a peace beyond measure…”

“I have saved you, dearest,” he said.  “Come to me!”

But she did not come to him.  She went to the cart and drew out the orc’s magical knife.  Without a word she thrust it into her bosom, and fell off the altar and down the mountain, past the clouds and into a black abyss..  

Thomas sat and said no words for a long while.  

The Faerie Queen brought out a magical blue blanket and put it around his shoulders. “I am sorry, Thomas, but only one wish do I grant.  But for your deepest longing you needn’t use one.  Take this blanket, and sleep.”

Thomas took the blanket and slept a more restful sleep than he had ever slept, and dreamt good dreams, for finally he could forget all of his worries. 

The end.