Lady of Mischief

Ragnor finally arrives, after 12 long days of travel. The folk tales weren't wrong, this place is disgusting. A thick, heavy stench assaults his senses, that of rotten plant materials, oozing for countless days in the sun. The air is warm and somehow dirty. Its dense consistency is pushing down on his already tired shoulders, freezing him in his tracks. The light shining through the dense canopy of trees creates a yellow-green atmospheric glow around the lush wetlands. There is not even the smallest bit of ground in sight, every inch of soil is covered in a thick array of grass, moss or some other kind of flora. Trees are soft and fluffy with moss, creeping vines twisting and tangling around the trunks and weeping from the branches, creating slight curtains around some areas. 

Somewhere in the distance rings the chirping of a frog. If you listen closely, it almost sounds like it says, 'keep away, keep away'. Ragnor shakes his head and blinks his eyes trying to fight the horrifying smell. He takes a step forward. 'Crack, splash' goes a mushroom as his boot crushes through its top, a thick green goop gushing from the fungus, spilling onto Ragnor's boot. It starts to become warm where the thick liquid sticks onto the shoe. Ragnor jumps away, shaking his leg in an attempt to escape the seemingly acidic juices. As he jumps backwards, he fails to notice a fallen log and stumbles over it. His arms wave through the air as he tumbles. On the way down he manages to grab a vine hanging from a tree. The vine snaps a branch and debris falls on Ragnor as he hits the ground. An assortment of bugs and spiders crawl around on his lap. His body wiggles as he tries to get away, crawling backwards. Suddenly his one arm plops into a small pool of water, strangely warm. He quickly yanks his arm away and jumps to his feet, swinging his walking staff around manically, yelling. Ragnor starts to run deeper into the wooded area. 

Finally, he comes to a stop at a large tree. Ragnor leans on the trunk, breathing heavily, wondering whether this journey will be worth it. Suddenly, and as if he willed it, a noise sounds from nearby. Ragnor leans around the tree to track the origin of the noise. A couple of feet away grazes the whitest lamb he's ever seen before. He takes a deep breath and reaches into his pocket. His hand pulls out in a fist and he holds it out, thumb up, as he slowly approaches the lamb. He softly sings a song as he walks toward the snow-white woolly creature, who is looking at him with wide eyes. The lamb's formerly shaky legs now stand strong as its eyes are locked onto Ragnor's. He kneels at the lamb's head, showing it his fist that opens to reveal three items: a wooden buttonl; a dried piece of ginger; and a lavender flower. The lamb leans its head closer and sniffs the hand, then it bites the lavender flower and goes 'bah'. The lamb starts to trot off into the woods, Ragnor follows. After a while, they come to a large hollowed-out tree, Ragnor follows the lamb inside. On the inside, the tree is a cosy little home. There is a large woollen carpet in the centre of the floor with a plain wooden dining set. Along the inside of the tree, a staircase leads up to a quaint bedroom, and under the stairs are shelves of littles bottles with colourful liquids inside them. The lamb trots up to the bedroom and Ragnor looks around the tree some more. He finds a bookcase next to the pantry. The books on them have unreadable scripts on them, golden words carved into thick leather bindings. He takes one of the books off the shelf and looks at the cover, its pitch black. Ragnor stares into the black cover, it seems like it's a hole, like he can reach into it. He takes a finger and starts moving it towards the hole. "Stop!" exclaims a voice from behind him. He turns around and his stomach tightens. The voice came from the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, peachy skin with a golden glow, ice blue eyes that draws him in, and a waterfall of curly white hair that looks as soft as a lamb's wool.

Clothed in a white cotton dress with bare feet, the woman approaches Ragnor, her arms stretched out in front of her. "Give me the book" she whispers. Ragnor slowly moves the book toward her, unable to tear his eyes away from hers. The book comes within her grasp and she grabs it quickly. Holding the black part against her chest, she goes to the bookshelf and puts it away. Ragnor, still speechless, follows her every move with his eyes. She leads him to the table, and he sits down in a chair. She brings a kettle of boiling water and two cups to the table and takes a seat. "The items," she says. Ragnor lies the ginger and the button on the table and watches as the woman crushes the dried piece of ginger into the cups and pours the water. "Drink," she says and hands him a cup. He brings it to his nose and sniffs in the brew's aroma, it smells strong. Ragnor does as she says, and they drink the brew simultaneously. There is a silence, then the woman's eyes turn black, and she starts to levitate off the ground. The howl of the wind grows, and leaves and twigs blow into the tree. The sky turns dark, and the air becomes cold. The woman is still in the middle of the room, levitating above the floor. Her black eyes now glowing silver, her hair waving wildly in the wind. She mutters to herself words that Ragnor cannot understand. 

***

The darkness fades and a dim light appears, candlelight. As the light grows, I start to familiarize myself with my surroundings. I’m in a small wooden house. The stars can be seen through the gaps in the thatch roof. I hear weeping and start looking around for the origin of the sound. It's coming from there, in the corner of the house. A man is kneeled at the feet of a statue, I walk to the man. His tear-stained face looks up at the statue, I recognize him, it's the soul who has come to me on this day. His sorrow tells me that this frozen woman means much to him. “Oh, Marge, how could this have happened? What have I done to you?” he cries. He is completely unaware of my presence, as this is merely my vision of the troubles that ails him, the reason he trekked hundreds of miles to my solitary hideout in the swampy wetlands. He continues to weep at her feet, holding her stone hands in his. I put my hand on his head and my mind reaches into his memories. I see him in royal armour, proud, but pride turns to humiliation when he flees from a flaming wasteland, leaving his brotherhood behind. Cast out beyond the castle barriers, with humiliation in their hearts and shame on their name, Ragnor took his wife and fled to the outlands, where exiles go to try and start a new life, there they built this house. Months of struggling later, Ragnor came across an old friend who offered him an escape from this terrible life. Passage on a ship to a neighbouring kingdom where they can start over in exchange for stealing a valuable artifact from a menacing trickster god. Ragnor managed to retrieve the artifact and was granted passage to the new kingdom, but before he was able to fetch his wife, the god got her revenge, turning Ragnor’s wife into stone. The memories fade away as I lift my hand off his head. Ragnor looks into his wife’s stone-cold eyes, “I will undo what I have done, I promise,” he says, tears rolling down his cheek. He rises from his knee and places his hands on her shoulders. “I will go to the wetlands, to the mage Helga, she should have magic to undo this curse.” he says and gives her a kiss on the forehead.

***

Then, with the same gust as it came, the wind disappears, and the woman floats back down to the ground. Her eyes turn back to piercing blue and she looks at Ragnor. “Understood,” she says and walks to the shelves that contain the magical bottles. She looks around the shelf and picks up a bottle. “Here,” she says, handing Ragnor the bottle. He holds it up, a quizzical look on his face, “its dirt,” he says. “Dirt from the motherland, enchanted with magic that will take anyone back to a previous place in time. Sprinkle this on your wife’s feet and it will restore her to her human form.” says Helga. Ragnor looks down at the jar and pulls out the cork, he puts his hand into the jar, stirring the dirt. He feels a power emanate from the soil. He looks back up to where Helga stood, but she is gone, her white cotton dress laying in a pile on the floor. As Ragnor rushes out of the tree, he fails to notice the severed lamb’s head laying underneath the cotton dress.

Ragnor enters his home with the jar of dirt and immediately rushes over to where his wife stood frozen. He falls to his knees, pulls open the jar of dirt and takes a handful of soil. “Please, please,” he whispers over his fist and then sprinkles the dirt over his wife’s feet. He quickly stands up, searching for any sign of life. A glow falls upon his wife and the stone starts to disappear from her fingers and hair. Ragnor takes his wife's hand, it is soft and warm, “it's working” he says. Merely seconds later, his wife is freed from her stone prison. Her eyes blink and she opens her mouth, “Ragnor?” she says. He embraces her warmly in his arms, but suddenly Ragnor feels a sharp sting in his heart. He lets go of his wife and stands back, gripping his heart. “Wha-?” He struggles to get the words out. Ragnor feels his joints stiffen and his skin becomes cold. The pain disappears from his heart and Ragnor realizes that he’s been turned to stone, but his mind is still alive, and his sight is still clear. Then, the fear strikes him, he gazes out on his wife once again stuck in stone. If he could, Ragnor would gasp, but his respiratory system is frozen. A voice pierces his mind, “could not resist the temptation of owning such a powerful artifact, could you?”, he does not recognise this voice. A woman appears from the shadows, Quintina, the Lady of Mischief. She holds out her hand and reveals to Ragnor the button he had brought to Helga in the swamp. “I killed Helga and posed as her, I needed to access your memories, now I know the artifact you gave the Royal Guard was fake.” She says. “The button led me here and with a little bit of magic, the vision of your wife distracted you long enough for me to find my artifact.” Quintina holds up the artifact. “Thank you for leading me here,” she says and disappears in a puff of smoke.

Ragnor was left there, frozen in stone, to stare at his wife until the end of time. Never unable to escape his shame and regret.