The windfairies, and other tales

by Mary De Morgan

“What shall I do?” sobbed Hulda. “He was only an idiot, he knew nothing; still he told me to follow the raven, and no one else has told me anything;” so on she went, and this time the raven flew quite slowly, so that Hulda kept up with it walking. On they travelled till evening was well advanced, into all sorts of places where Hulda had never been, and through many villages. Then it began to grow dark, and the moon came out, but still they travelled on. Hulda was foot-sore and weary, but she would not give up, and said to herself, “It was what the fool said, ‘Follow the raven, do what the raven does!’”

Just before dawn, they came out on to a big plain, where there were neither houses nor trees, but in the far distance you could see a long line of mountains; a little further in the centre of the plain Hulda saw a little dark mass, and straight to this the raven flew, and as Hulda approached it, she saw that it was the little dwarf, lying asleep upon the ground beside his heap of musical instruments, with the mule grazing near. “Oh, good wise fool,” cried Hulda, “now indeed you have given me the best advice. Since the raven has led me to the wicked dwarf, now indeed will I do what the raven does, whatever it be.”

The raven flew on, and lit upon a scrubby bush, a little way from the sleeping dwarf, and Hulda followed and crouched beside it, making no noise lest she should disturb the sleeper, and hiding behind the branches so that she could not be seen. Presently the little man rose from the ground, and called out, “Come, my children, practice, practice; the dawn is here, and the sun will rise, and then we must go upon our way.”

Then Hulda saw what Othmar had seen before. The pipes raised themselves from the ground, and untwisted, and became tall, lithe men; some gradually uncurled themselves, and put forth long arms and became beautiful girls, till each instrument had taken the likeness of a human being. Then they began to dance and to sing, and Hulda watched them as Othmar had watched them, and she too felt as if she had never seen and heard anything so beautiful in her life, and she longed to rush to them, but she heard the raven croak above her, and remembered the words of the fool, “The raven, the raven, do what the raven does.” Then she saw that the raven had hopped off the tree, and was standing upon the earth in front of her, and was beginning to dig in the earth with its long beak, as if it would find a worm. “The fool said, Do what the raven does, so must I dig too,” thought she, and she began to scoop the brown earth with her hand, till she had made a hole, watching the raven all the time.

Presently she saw that the raven had found a long worm, and held it by its throat in the air, but it did not swallow it. Hulda looked into her hole to see if there was a worm there also, and at the bottom she saw lying a long, lithe, green snake, twisted up and apparently torpid. “Surely,” thought Hulda, “if I do what the raven does, I shall take this out,” and she put her hand into the hole, and grasped the snake by its throat, though she was very much afraid of it, and then she crouched down behind the raven and the bush.

“Come,” cried the dwarf, when they had all sung together, “now let us hear the last new voice. Othmar’s voice was as sweet as silver. Now let me hear how my youngest daughter has treated it.” Then there came to the front the youngest and fairest of the girls, and began to sing, and when she heard it, Hulda could scarcely keep from screaming, for she recognized that the tones were Othmar’s; but just as the singing sounded the sweetest, the raven with a croak opened his mouth, and dropped the worm upon the ground, and Hulda let go her hold of the bright green snake, which darted through the short grass towards the dancers.

There arose from all sides the cry of “A snake, a snake!” and they seemed panic-stricken. The snake glided straight towards the singing girl, and deftly coiled itself round her ankles, while from the old man and all the others came a terrible uproar, but the snake from the girl’s ankles had slid up her body in bright green coils, and then twisted itself around her throat, and coiled tighter and tighter and tighter, till her head fell over on one side. Then Hulda heard a noise like the sighing of wind, but sweet and tender, while the dwarf and all the singers were in a hubbub and confusion.

For a moment the old man stood motionless, then he rose and gave a terrible cry. Hulda trembled when she heard his voice, it sounded like nothing earthly, but ere he was silent there had risen from the ground and from the bushes near a number of little cloudy forms, black and thick, and twirling in all directions, and they twisted in and out among the singers; and as they twisted among them, they ceased to be men and women, but became musical instruments, as they had been before, all save the girl around whose neck the snake had wound, and who seemed to shrivel and shrivel in its coils till she was no more to be seen.

In less than a minute they were all packed again upon the mule, and the little old man was leading it quietly away, as if nothing had happened. And upon the grass lay the glittering snake, though all trace of the girl around whose neck it had twisted had gone. Hulda ran to it, and then she almost cried, for she feared that after all the girl with Othmar’s voice had escaped her. But she remembered the words of Tommy the fool, “Do as the raven does; follow the raven,” and looking up she saw that the raven was fluttering above her, with the worm it had picked up from the ground in its mouth.

“Oh, dear raven,” cried Hulda, “you brought me to where the little man was, now lead me back and show me what to do next.” And mindful of the fool’s advice, she picked up the snake, and holding it firmly by the throat, turned to follow the raven, who flew ahead of her. Thus they journeyed back, over the same country through which Hulda had come before. All looked just the same, but Hulda was sorely tired, for she had now been walking many days, and she felt sad, for she did not know if after all she had gained anything, or whether she ought not to have followed the little old man, and though she had heard Othmar’s voice, she did not know how she was to get it back to him. “Never mind,” she said to herself, “the fool told me right so far, and evidently he knew all about it, so I had best keep to his advice.”