The Dwarf and the Twins

  The Dwarf and the Twins

  A Fairy Tale Novella

  Katharina Gerlach

  Once upon a time in a world where magic and technology collide with unexpected consequences…

  When Martin helps a pregnant woman to flee from the king’s men, he doesn’t know that the twins she bears will change his solitary life forever.

  What if the Brother's Grimm misunderstood the dwarf in the original tale of "Snow White and Rose Red"?

  The book includes a bonus story and the original fairy tale.

  Copyright 2014 Katharina Gerlach

  Go here for the Table of Contents

  Dear reader,

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  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. Now, have fun with the story.

  The Dwarf and the Twins

  I should not expect to survive. Premonition tells me that, but I know the world will be a better place because of my spell and the love of one woman. In my vision, I see the girls come. They're tiny suns in the darkness of their mother's womb; she is scared for their lives as she races through the forest. Soldiers on horseback, determined to punish someone — anyone — chase the woman, the very same soldiers that slaughtered her husband because he refused to work in the king's mines. If I don't act, two innocents will die before they are even born. I smile. A dwarf against the king's men. If it weren't for my magic, I wouldn't stand a chance.

  I kneel and dig my hands into the earth, dragging part of my beard along into the soil. The familiar power hums in my bones, shutting out sight and sound. What I am asking will cost my friends dearly, but three lives are at stake. I let my soul merge with the trees, ready to share their pain. They move ever so slowly. First branches, then roots and stems block the path the woman has used. The soldiers scream and hack at the trees until my arms, too, feel raw and bloody as my friends' poor limbs, but in the end, they give up. The woman stumbles on, never knowing how she escaped.

  I thank my friends, taking the pain with me. They will grow new limbs to replace the lost ones, but my body will ache for weeks to come. My mind returns to its dwarfish shell and the world around swims into focus. I lie down and turn on my back. Tucking my long beard into my vest, I watch the clouds over my head float by. How can a day, so sunny and bright, be filled with so much violence and death?

  Sure, the trees and the animals are glad that fewer people roam the forest since the king forced his subjects to work underground, but the earth complains. The last two years, I've been busy keeping tunnels from collapsing on unsuspecting miners. I sigh and get up, trying to ignore the pain that shoots through my back. Hunched more than usual, I shuffle down the path, curious as to where the woman went. With that big belly of hers, it would be difficult for her to reach the next kingdom. I set out to search for her. The pinpricks of light in her belly attract me like flames draw a moth.

  I find her crouching in the grass near the creek. She is panting heavily, doubling over in pain now and again. The light from her children is so strong, it makes it hard for me to look at her. What do I know of birthing? I sigh and look away from the brightness. A little up the hill is a cave. Maybe it will do. Wordlessly I help her to her feet and support her as best I can with my stumpy body. The cave is dark and cool.

  I touch the stone, and a fireplace grows in the back wall. On the left a bed emerges from the ground and on the right, a table forms with three stools around it, all made of stone. I help the woman to the bed and wonder why I care. I haven't socialized with people since the current king chased me away many years ago. The brightness of the twin flames is answer enough.

  The woman grabs my arm. Her fingers dig into my flesh. I bite my tongue and do not scream.

  “Whoever you are,” she says, “you are my savior. Thank you.”

  I nod and help her into a crouching position. The bed will need covers and a softer mattress, but I can take care of that when the twin lights breathe our air. Another contraction shakes her body.

  “Push.” I place my hand at the small of her back. Her body relaxes and spasms again. I smooth the waves of pain that wrack her body with my magic to make them more bearable. The woman isn't built for giving birth. For an endless time, we crouch. And then, everything blurs, and I'm too busy to do anything but help.

  When it is all over, the woman lies back on the bed with two bundles in her arms. Aside from my pain I broke a sweat, which I haven't done in years, but the room is as tidy as I am able to make it. I turn to go when the woman calls me back.

  “You've got to name them,” she says.

  “Name them yourself.”

  “Please. I feel it in my bones that you will pick perfect names for them.”

  I stare at the bundles, blinking from time to time to look past the light of their lives. It will dim with time, just like their mother's light has faded to a dull glow since her husband died.

  “I need to think about this. I'll be back.” I flee the cave and hide in my underground home, scared by the idea of going back. At some point, I fall asleep. I usually don't dream, but this night I dream of the two girls. Is that another vision, or am I finally becoming more human?

  Some time later, I leave my hidden dwelling only to find two roses that have taken root right in front of the entrance to my home. They spark an idea. Now I know what to call the girls. I bend and use my powers to nudge the roses until they leave the soil and climb into my hands, curling up small tendrils of downy, feathery roots. Next, I fetch a couple of things the woman will need.

  On the way to the woman's cave, I fill the roses with my magic so they can keep the fugitives safe. When I enter the cave, the woman still sleeps. The babies are awake, waving their arms about.

  “Thou shalt be known as Rose Red.” I hold one rose close to the dark-haired baby, worried about the pain I'm about to cause her. A branch reaches out and a thorn pricks her tiny finger. A minute drop of blood spills on the stem, and the rose sucks it up. The baby doesn't scream. She just stares at me with her big eyes.

  “Thou shalt be known as Snow White.” I repeat the procedure with the second rose and the light-haired baby. She doesn't scream either, but manages to stick the finger into her mouth. I never knew relief could make me feel so light-headed.

  Since both roses have accepted my magic and bonded with the children, they will protect the girls from harm, and I can return to my reclusive life. I start a fire and set one of my precious metal pots with some food on the table. Beside it, I lay a note with the girls' names. Before leaving, I plant the roses on either side of the cave's entrance. I have done what I could to ensure the girls will survive.

  Despite the distance to his treasury, the king felt the pull of the gold in the throne room. As soon as his everyday tasks were done, he'd get the newest numbers. He always kept the best for last. How he longed to touch his precious stones and metals. He felt more alive when he did.

  “Petitioner seventy-five,” the lord steward announced.

  A woman in a patched brown dress stood before the throne staring at the ground, not daring to lift her eyes. With his mind in the treasury, he hadn't even seen her come. He sighed.

  “Petitioner seventy-five requests a visit from her husband,” the steward read from a rolled up parchment.

  “For breeding?” The king smiled.

  “No, sir. Her son has died. He caught miner's cough, and she wants her husband to attend the funeral.”

  “Slaves don't need a fune
ral. Dump him at the disposal site. Next.” His thoughts turned back to the barrels filled with golden coins. He needed more, much more.

  “Please, milord, have mercy.” The woman's voice was barely more than a whisper. “He was our only son.”

  Mercy … Reluctantly the king forced himself to look at her tear-stained face. His advisors insisted that a good king showed mercy to his people.

  “Take her to the mines. Her husband can have one day off work, but a soldier will accompany them at all times.”

  The woman bowed and cried silently. Two guards stepped forward and led her away.

  “The captain of the royal guard,” the steward announced.

  He'd be coming for the monthly payment. The king's stomach cramped. It hurt so much to give away some of his gold. It was his. He had spent so much sweat on it. It should stay in his treasury. But the loyalty of the guards and the army depended on his payments.

  The captain marched toward the throne and greeted him military style, straight as a rod with his right hand beside his right ear.

  The king nodded. “Anything important?” He leaned back.

  “The insurgent smuggled away another family, although we tripled the border patrols. The soldiers in the mines haven't found out how he manages to free slaves. We're working on it though.” There was sweat on the captain's brow.

  The king smirked.

  “Round up South Village and make up the missing numbers with males between six and forty-five as replacement. If the renegade keeps at it, we'll have to recruit another village.”

  The captain bowed.

  “The treasurer will hand out the monthly payment this afternoon in the usual place.” The king winced at his own words. With every passing month, it became harder to utter them. Still, there was no way around it if he wanted to make sure neighboring kingdoms wouldn't invade. What a good thing that the big forest separated them from most enemies.

  He waved the captain away. Thank heavens this was his last appointment. Now he'd be free to head down to the treasury to dig his fingers into the newly minted coins. He already felt the tingling sensation the money left in his body. It called to him.

  A golden-haired boy, barely more than five years old, approached the throne carrying a bag of gems.

  “Would it be convenient for you to play with me, Father?”

  The urge to see his money eased, and his heart swelled with pride. His son would make a splendid king one day. When he was around, the pull of the gold faded. A smile spread over the king's face.

  “Of course, my dear.” He stepped down from the throne and kneeled beside his son to play.

  Adele awoke. Her babies still slept, each with one tiny finger in their mouth. She smiled at them and got up quietly. A fire was blazing in the fireplace and a pot with stew stood on the table. Her heart went out in gratitude to the dwarf who had so miraculously appeared last night to help her. As she warmed the stew, the fire's pungent smell filled her nose, reminding her of her loss. Never again would she smell her husband's scent of wood smoke and fresh air. Never again would she feel his arms around her. All that was left of him were his daughters — their children.

  How she longed to see someone take the sword that killed her husband to her king's throat. If only she were a man. He'd taste his own medicine, the greedy son of misbegotten heritage. But she knew it'd mean certain death. Who would care for her children then? Her stomach grumbled, so she ate the stew. She had to be strong to raise the girls.

  In the years that followed, Adele's hate cooled, and she acquired the skills she needed to care for her children. She learned how to identify edible plants, how to fish and hunt. She hated taking a rabbit's life, but it fed her and her daughters.

  How she rejoiced at Rose Red's first, “Mama.” How she marveled when Snow waddled through the house on her own. Occasionally the dwarf joined her in the moonlight by the river where they talked. He eased her worry when she told him about the visions Snow occasionally had and brought food when she couldn't provide enough. Life continued. The pain in her heart subsided, although it never left.

  Soon the girls began to ask questions about other people. She told them stories of what the kingdom was like before the king's greed got the better of him. She explained how people toiled and harvested the fields and how they hunted. Before she knew it, Snow had planted a garden around their home, claiming she had dreamt the instructions, and Rose had become the best hunter Adele had ever met. Not that she had met many, mind. Still, whenever Rose went out hunting, she returned with prey. And whatever plant Snow tended to grew to amazing heights, showering them with a harvest richer than any Adele had experienced before. Time flew by. Soon the girls overtook their mother in height.

  One evening Rose came home without a quarry. Her face was as pale as Snow's, which was unusual for the well-tanned girl. Since Snow had forewarned her, Adele waited at the door and hugged her daughter wordlessly. Snow led her sister to a chair, and Rose sat, smiling gratefully.

  “There were people. They looked much like you and me, but they rode on stags without antlers. They laughed and joked, but they hunted a dwarf with long hair on his chin. I meant to help him escape, but he seemed to know his way around even better than I do. He spotted me, and his eyes grew wide as if he was amazed to see me. Before the riders could catch him, he vanished without a trace, and the riders searched in vain.”

  Adele felt her heart contract. The time had come where she could no longer keep her children from the world around them. She had known this day would come, and she had feared it.

  “You know the small man.” She sank onto her chair. “I have told you many times how he planted your rosebushes. I don't want you to call him a dwarf.”

  “He's our godfather?” Snow clapped her hands in delight.

  “He's the one friend I made in these woods. Whatever you do, pay him utmost respect. Without him I surely would have perished seventeen years ago.” Hesitantly, she told them the true story of what had happened when they were born, not the version she had always had ready for inquiring children. She recounted once more how he had named them and left the rosebushes that protected their home. This time she forced herself to share the story of her husband's death and the tears she had shed, too. For a long time, they held each other close to shut out the cruelty of the world.

  Later, her daughters slept. Not yet tired, Adele went outside to sit below the full moon. A small shadow appeared at her side.

  “May I sit with you for a while?” the small man asked.

  Adele wasn't surprised to see him. After today's events, she had as much as expected him. Silently they watched the clouds hurry over the moon's troubled face.

  “Will they be back?” Adele asked.

  He nodded. “I'm the best size for mining. Also, they'll be looking for others hiding out in the forest.”

  “How many villages has he forced underground already?”

  “Three so far. Soldiers guard the women and little children to keep the slaves from running. It's easier to shoot the innocent.” The small man's voice was raw with contempt.

  “If only someone would teach the king a lesson.” Adele clenched her fists. “Can't he see he's ruining the kingdom? People are starving. There aren't enough people left to grow food for everybody, and he's still rounding up more and more to put gold and jewels into his coffers. When will he understand that we can't eat gemstones and metal?” The man put a hand on her arm and she turned to him. “You are much more human than he is, you know.”

  “I've never been anything but human.” The man let his hand sink back to his lap. “As a small bairn, I had everything I ever wanted; toys, food, a caring mother, a proud father, and a younger brother. When I turned ten, my younger brother had outgrown me. More often than not, people took him to be the eldest and addressed him with my name. By the time I turned thirteen, my father had restricted my movements to my nursery.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “She loved me the way I was, but
she was the only one. She died shortly after my fifteenth birthday. After her funeral, I packed what I thought I'd need to survive and left a house that had all but forgotten about me. I'm happy here. No one calls me a dwarf or throws stones.” He stroked his long, brown beard, and small sparks flew out of it, joining the fireflies in a silent dance.

  Adele smiled, but sadness filled her heart.

  “I am glad you were here when I came. I consider you my friend, if you don't mind.”

  The man's eyes widened. He might have blushed too, but that was hard to tell in the semidarkness of the night. He waved the remark aside and stood.

  “Better make sure your girls stay hidden. There's no knowing what the soldiers would do to those beauties before they drag them off to the mines.”

  Realizing the truth in his words, pain cut through Adele's heart like a knife. Silent and unmoving, she watched him leave, but her mind was in turmoil. If anything happened to her girls, it'd be her end.

  I walk away, but her troubled face doesn't leave my mind while I stumble through the night forest. Why did I tell her about my youth? I haven't told anyone in ages. It doesn't do any good to wallow in sorrow. It only wakes memories I don't want to face. I struggle not to hear my mother's song as she hums a lullaby for me. I don't want to see the slender, green wisp of a fairy bent over my cradle beside my mother. And most definitely I don't want to hear the fairy godmother's words, but they're stuck in my memory.

  “Oh dear. One christening wish won't solve his troubles easily. I think I'd better provide him with something useful.” She raised a wand and fluffy pieces of light rained down on me. I giggled and nearly missed her wish.

  “At the right time, you will grow a beard. When the beard is gone, so will be your troubles.”

  I shake my head, and the memory evaporates like morning dew.

  Resting my arms on my knees, I pant as if I'd been running. Dawn is breaking around me. Did I really spend half the night buried in memories? And why did I think of this particular scene? No one remembers their christening. So why can I?