Through long wandering, I arrived in this village in the frigid north in my thirtieth year. I, a native of hot southern climes, came here at harvest time, when the days were still cool and pleasant.
I had no wife, no children. These fair-skinned villagers smiled at my sun-ripened swarthiness. They speculated to each other on how eagerly I would depart once the winter passed.
They were kind enough, however. For my help during the harvest, they gave me lodging in a cottage whose owner, an elderly farmer, had died the winter before. They sent two children, a boy, eleven, and his sister, twelve, to cook and clean for me. As they were orphans, explained the village elders, and as payment for their work, I would allow them to live with me.
The boy, Arnen, was good with an ax, and soon we had a wall of firewood stacked beside the cottage. The girl, Luda, immediately set about preserving berries and roots she foraged in the woods, and the meat I got by hunting. I cured the skins of those unfortunate animals and traded them in the village for grain and vegetables, in addition to my harvest duties. In this manner, we earned a sufficient living and filled our larders against the fabled winter.
The day the harvest ended, the first light snow began to fall. That evening Luda prepared a fine meal of venison and potatoes roasted with fragrant herbs, and a loaf of barley bread which she herself baked. She and Arnen set our table for four places as I built a fire in the common room.
“Why four places?” I asked. “Are we expecting a guest?” The children exchanged a smile as they filled the plates.
“It’s the first snow,” Arnen said, as if that explained it. We sat down to eat.
“You’re truly a stranger if you don’t know about the first snow,” Luda commented.
“Yes, I’m truly a stranger,” I laughed. “You must instruct me in your traditions so that I can observe them properly.”
“Every year at the first snow, we set a place for the Snow Child,” Luda explained. “It’s how we welcome her, and if she’s pleased, the winter will be kind to us.” Arnen nodded, his mouth full of warm bread.
“If the food makes her happy, she won’t send blizzards that destroy our homes,” he continued. “No one will die of the cold, not even the animals, and the wolves in the forest will be well-fed so they won’t prey on us or our cattle.”
“And we won’t be attacked by raiding parties, either,” Luda said. “The Snow Child will protect us all the winter if we invite her in.”
I nodded. “She’ll be well-pleased with this feast, Luda,” I said. “And she’ll know how strong and capable you are, Arnen, when she sees all the firewood you’ve provided us. You two have made the Snow Child most welcome this year.”
They both grinned and set happily to their food.
When our meal was finished, Luda took the Snow Child’s plate and set it in my hands.
“You’re the master of this house now, even though you’re a stranger,” she said. “It’s your part to set her plate out in the snow. If the food is gone in the morning, we’ll know she’s pleased, and we’ll be safe this winter.”
The two of them watched me with all seriousness. So I rose and took the plate outside, and they followed. We found a soft mound of snow between the garden and the forest, and there I set the plate of food, still warm and steaming in the icy air.
“Snow Child,” I said to the gray sky, “I am a stranger here, but I am responsible for this house and these children. Because they honor you, so then do I. Come and be welcome to what bounty we have, and keep these children safe through the winter. We thank you for your blessings.”
Arnen and Luda tossed a handful of snow onto the plate, and I followed their example. They smiled up at me with relief.
“It’s done,” Arnen said.
“You did well for a stranger,” Luda added.
“That’s good,” I chuckled. “Now let’s go in to the fire. It’s freezing out here.”
We spent the evening telling stories by the fire. They told me how they lost their parents to marauders from the north five winters ago, and how the villagers looked after them until I came. They said that no matter the hardships of the winters, this village always survived, as they had survived the loss of their parents.
“It’s because we respect the Snow Child,” Luda said. “We love her, and she loves us.”
“She always takes care of her own,” Arnen agreed.
I told them of my wanderings, which already seemed another life to me, far away and long ago. They listened with wide eyes, trying to imagine the mountain that could pour forth flames to devour the city of my birth.
“So you’re an orphan, too,” Arnen observed. “Don’t worry, the Snow Child loves orphans best.”
“She’s most likely drawn you here just for that,” Luda agreed. “You needed a home, so she’s made you one.”
The logic of children, in this cold and foreign place, warmed my heart.
“Well, I imagine the Snow Child would want her orphans to get a good night’s sleep,” I told them. I saw them to bed and lit a fire in the hearth in their room. Then I took myself to bed, and slept well and deep.
I awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of quiet singing. I thought it was Luda, who liked to sing while she cooked. But when I looked into the children’s room, there they both were, fast asleep. I let the voice lead me outside to the garden.
There, sitting in the snow beside the offering we had made, was a girl a little younger than Arnen. She was pale, wrapped in white furs, and seemed to glow in the moonlight that glanced through the restless clouds. She was happily eating the food we had left, humming as she chewed.
I kept my distance and watched her. She finished her meal and licked her fingers like any child might. She got up and patted her belly with satisfaction. Then she saw me.
She smiled and laid her finger to her lips, cautioning silence. She drew her furs closer around her and went toward the forest, singing softly.
She vanished before she reached the trees. I gazed after her until the cold insisted I go back inside.
As I opened the door her song reached me again, and I heard these words: “This is your home now.”
“Thank you, Snow Child,” I whispered. I went back to bed, knowing my wandering was done.
I was ready for the winter.
Eric J. Krause
December 16, 2010
Very cool story! I’m glad the Snow Child accepted him. This was an excellent myth-telling, and the ending really paid off.
Laurita
December 16, 2010
This was simply gorgeous. The tradition of the Snow Child is so beautifully created, and your descriptions are exquisite. I loved every line.
juliorvarela
December 16, 2010
First of all, major kudos for the language and tone you used. I knew instantly that this piece was taking placing somewhere in the past. You really invited the reader in at the very beginning, and then you just told the story, and what a sweet story it is. The message was so tender and welcoming. Nice job!
Julio
John Wiswell
December 16, 2010
Some good lines to support the exotic aesthetic of this one, Gracie. My favorite was “sun-ripened swarthiness.” It’s very easy to enter annoying territory with this sort of voice, but you kept it just a little cheeky and so it kept clicking along.
Ruchira Mandal
December 17, 2010
The beginning is in the epic style. Beautiful myth-telling.
http://tinyurl.com/23zymrz
mazzz in Leeds
December 17, 2010
How lovely! And what a great village this is, looking after its own.
Sam Adamson
December 17, 2010
Beautiful, simply beautiful! I absolutely adore the tone of this story, the characters, the setting and the premise. In fact, I enjoyed it so much I’m off to read it again…
Icy Sedgwick
December 17, 2010
OHHHH I love this!! This is by far my favourite of your stories. It’s just beautiful. Happy ending, and I always end up empathising with snowy or icy maidens…
Excellent stuff.
Tony Noland
December 17, 2010
Aw, that was sweet. What a great happy ending!
dannigrrl
December 17, 2010
I know I am echoing the others, but this really was a beautiful piece, Gracie. I love how the orphans have all found their place.
ganymeder
December 17, 2010
OMG, you made me cry. Beautiful story!
Wulfie
December 17, 2010
Beautiful. Touching on the Old Ways.
Steve Green
December 17, 2010
A very heart-warming winters tale Gracie, lovely to read.
Maria Kelly
December 17, 2010
Oh, this is absolutely gorgeous. I love it! Very touching and sweet fable.
KjM
December 17, 2010
You have a gift for the making of myth, Gracie. This entire story held together beautifully.
Your language, in the mouths of your characters, is exquisite.
…I am a stranger here, but I am responsible for this house and these children. Because they honor you, so then do I. Come and be welcome to what bounty we have…
I love the cadence. It deserves to be spoken aloud.
Really well done.
TEC4
December 17, 2010
I love how you created this culture and told us so much so well in so few words. Absolutely gorgeous piece of writing!
Seleste
December 17, 2010
A lovely, heart-warming story.
🙂
Anthony Venutolo
December 17, 2010
Weaving wonderful words here… Gorgeous write.
laradunning
December 18, 2010
This is a wonderful story! The human and fantasical elements are so creatively woven together it makes you care about is the characters and want to know more. I hope this story will continue!
Deanna Schrayer
December 18, 2010
What a beautiful story Gracie! I too love the tone, the descriptions, all of it. For a while there I was afraid the Snow Child would eat them all, but I’m so glad she didn’t. I’m so glad she delivered a warm, happy winter.
Just lovely!
johnunknown
December 18, 2010
Wow well… what can I say now that I am the last to read this and everyone before has said everything I love this story a lot I’m glad they all found there way
Jason Coggins
December 18, 2010
You have a real knack of making fantasy feel like something true and real from our shared heathen past. The Snow Child could have been another midwinter tradition amongst all those others we have lost or had suppressed.
Aidan Fritz
December 19, 2010
I like how you brought this all together into his acceptance of home at the end. Enjoyed the feel and the references to the snow child.
Blackbirdsong
December 19, 2010
I love how this story feels like one of the Old Stories the Old Ones used to tell and you’ve written it down. You have a wonderful craft for creating stories that feels mythic though they are new. I love the Snow Child, what a wonderful story.
L'Aussie
December 22, 2010
For some reason this echoes to me of The Clan of the Cave Bear. Wonderfully lyrical. I love it Gracie.
flyingscribbler
December 22, 2010
Gracie, this is just lovely. Seasonal and perfect for a cold evening. It reads like a proper old-fashioned fire-side tale, full of innocence and beauty. Thank you.
adampb
December 22, 2010
There is a gentle graciousness to this story that makes it as light as the first snowfall. A beautiful fable of the Old Ways that resonate in these modern times.
Adam B @revhappiness
umbrellalady
March 24, 2011
This was a lovely, well-written story that would make a wonderful child’s book.