Once upon a time
(don’t ask about the time)
In a far-away land
(don’t ask about how far, or where)
Lived a good and noble prince
(don’t ask about whose standards of good and noble)
The prince was handsome and brave and strong, but he was lonely. So one day he took up his sword and went adventuring, to find himself a lady wife.
(don’t ask who was administrating his lands while he was away)
He rode his big beautiful horse down many dark and dangerous roads,
(don’t ask why the roads of his lands were dark and dangerous)
Fought many desperate brigands,
(don’t ask why they were desperate)
And slew many foul monsters,
(don’t ask who decides what a monster is)
But he was unable to find his lady love.
(don’t ask why none of the women he knew were ladies or what exactly a ‘lady’ is)
***
One day the prince was stood by a clear stream, tending to his horse, when he heard a voice raised in grief just above the rushing of the water. He followed the sounds and came to an old, old, old woman, sat beside the river-crossing.
“Oh my husband,” she sobbed. “My poor husband!”
“What troubles you, old woman?” asked the prince.
“He is sick, so sick,” wept the old woman. “Old and frail and tired, and we are alone and he grew ill. Now he needs the flower from the farthest hill to grow well again, but the river is too strong and deep for my old bones to cross.”
(don’t ask how the old man’s life wore him so old and frail or why there was nobody young able or willing to help them).
“I will do this for you,” said the prince bravely. And he forded the stream on his horse, strong as it was, and set off through the wilder woods, towards the farthest hill.
(don’t ask how much hard bravery is when you are young and strong and well-fed and armed and armoured and have never been told no in your life)
The woods were thick and dark, choked with undergrowth from below and blotted by wide branches from above. Grass withered and died, and any sheep that strayed beneath the boughs were given up as lost by the poor shepherds. Worse things than wolves were whispered to wander within,
(don’t ask why the shepherds were poor, don’t ask why the wolves were wicked)
But the prince was brave
(DON’T)
And determined, and he kept going even when the trail vanished and the sun fell and he was alone in the dark with a nervous horse he led by hand between ever-crowding trunks and thorns and barbed bare burrs until at length he turned in a full circle and found himself trapped inside a oubliette of living bark and dead vines so tiny that he couldn’t see how he’d managed to fit into it in the first place. One hand grasped the bridle of his faithful steed just outside, and then at a distant howl it neighed in fear and jerked free. He was alone.
(don’t ask what happened to the horse, or why the prince took it so far to somewhere so unsuited for it, or how well he tended it on his long adventures, alone and with only a few saddlebags for the both of them)
The prince stood there in his prison of vines and thorns, and he saw that although its walls were firm and fast, it dared not venture closer in. So he knelt and prayed the night away, and when the sun rose was miraculously unharmed
(don’t ask if his sword had something to do with it)
And was free to walk clear, the shadows and shrubs and saplings alike shrunken back from their moon-dark malevolence. The woods were still thick and cruel, but he persevered though he grew tired and tattered, and at last the stones grew thick on the ground and the sky broke through and he was at the broad barren base of the farthest hill. He looked to its summit and saw a small cottage, and sleeping outside that cottage a giant, and beside that giant’s foot a garden filled with small and beautiful flowers, bright and soft-petaled.
Seeing his quest’s end in sight, the prince drew his blade and called out to the giant his name, his knighthood, and his mission. And so enraged was the monster by this that he stood up and began to cast stones down the hillside at him, great boulders dug from the turf that tumbled and spun and rolled past the prince with the force of lightning and the roar of thunder,
(don’t ask if the giant had reason to react this way)
But he was fast and strong and brave, and he gained the peak and fought the giant and slew him, though he stood twice the height of a man and the weight of a good strong horse.
(don’t say ‘prove it’)
The knight bent low and plucked loose a brilliant and beautiful flower from the garden, and as he did so the cottage door opened and within was a fair lady, pale of skin and soft of hand and eye.
(don’t ask why a gardener doesn’t have a tan, callouses, or muscles)
The prince knelt at her feet and introduced himself gallantly, and she confessed that she was no less than a princess of old, taken from her parents by the goblins under the hill whom were the giant’s servants, and that she was glad to be rescued from her imprisonment beyond the woods.
(don’t ask what sort of stories people will say to strangers that come visiting with bloodied weapons in their hands and corpses at their feet)
So they left the farthest hill, but the prince was much slowed by the frailty of the princess, and was forced to carry her on his back or stop and let her rest.
(don’t ask if this sounds like something you’d do if you were stalling for time)
Darkness came to the woods again, and this time it was all the greater. The princess cried and flinched at the shadows, and once when the prince strode out to confront a rustling in the brush that she shrank from they clasped her and tried to bear her away, but he was quick and managed to find her before the trees could spirit her away. When dawn came it found them ragged and exhausted but still alive thanks to the prince’s sleepless vigilance, and the banks of the river were nigh.
“I cannot cross, I cannot cross,” wept the princess. “Go on without me, brave prince.”
“Fear not,” said the prince gallantly. “I shall carry you.”
“Oh, but how shall you carry your sword and armour and myself all at once?” she sobbed.
“You shall carry the sword for me,” said the prince. “Be brave! Though it be a cruel weapon, it has only ever been used for just cause, and so long as you clasp the hilt it cannot harm you.”
(don’t ask who decided what causes were just or how)
The princess trembled like a leaf, but she plucked up her courage and did as she was told. But the river was in fine flood and they were a-foot rather than horsed, and halfway through the river, the prince’s foot slipped and so the princess dropped the sword, which came down like a stone upon the prince’s armoured skull. He dropped poleaxed, and if the current had not been so unusually forceful that would’ve been the end of both of them; rather they were both cast ashore at the river-bend, where they lay swooned until they were happened upon by an old, old woman who took in both the princess and her medicinal flower and raised her as her own with what modest savings she and her husband (now-cured) could pull together. Alas, the brave prince had been weighed down by his armour, and so he passed from this life in heroism and was buried on a little hill above the river that had laid him low.
(don’t ask how much the prince’s armour was worth)
One day the prince’s men came crossing the river, seeking their deceased lord, and they found the princess sharpening their prince’s sword, which she used to cull chickens. They were astonished to find such a fine blade in the hands of a lowly maid, and when they asked her what had taken place she wept and told them all that had happened to her and of the dear noble dead prince’s part in it, one that the old, old couple swore was true in every word.
(don’t ask how long they’d had to get this straight).
The prince’s men wept for the loss of the land, but rejoiced in the completion of his quest. So they returned to their lord’s keep with a new ruler, and although she never did marry, she was not lonely herself, for her new parents were brought along with her, and they lived happily ever after.
Don’t ask exactly how happy they were.
Don’t ask how long ‘ever after’ is.
Don’t ask who exactly was happy and who wasn’t.
Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask.
Shhhhhhh.