The Polar Bear Queen
A Fairy Tale: Chapter 2
Anette threw herself on the couch and sobbed until she had no tears remaining. Then she stood and washed her face and dressed. She saddled a horse and rode out to the West.
She would find this sorcerer and she would get her polar bear queen back.
Anette journeyed for days through snow and storms until she finally crossed the border into the distant land of the West. Sharp craggy cliffs and sheer rock faces rose all around her, harsh and naked without the soft blankets of snow she had grown accustomed to.
Anette rode over scree and rock, through holt and thicket, until the daylight had passed and she was too tired to continue. She stopped for the night in a thicket. When she woke again, her horse had gone and she nearly despaired, but then she thought of Sigrid, and she lifted her head and began to walk.
At nearly midday, and feeling faint from hunger, Anette found a cabin in the woods. In front of the cabin an old woman sat in a rocker with a quilt of many colours laid over her. As Anette approached, the old woman called out, “Ahoy there! Have you traveled far? You must be tired and hungry. Join me in a meal.”
She swept the cloth off herself and laid it out on the ground with a flick of her wrist. As it settled, loaves of bread and wheels of cheese and fruit of many kinds appeared upon its surface.
Anette gratefully joined her. The bread tasted as if it were fresh baked, and the fruit was perfectly ripe and so full of juice it ran down her chin as she ate.
When Anette’s hunger had been sated, the old woman asked what brought her on such a journey and Anette said, “I seek a sorcerer in the West who has carried off my true love.”
The old woman said, “I know the man you seek. His tower is not much farther along this road. He is very dangerous. You must take this tablecloth with you. It makes any food you wish when you spread it out.”
Anette shook her head, dismayed at the worth of such a gift. But the old woman insisted and would not take no for an answer, so Anette folded the cloth and carried it with her as she continued on her journey, much refreshed. As she came around another corner, she spied another cabin and a girl outside with a silver bottle that shone in the sunlight. As Anette approached the girl called out to her to stop for a glass.
Anette paused, and asked, “A glass of what?”
“Why, of whatever you wish,” the girl replied, and she poured from the bottle into three goblets, one of rich dark wine, one of clear sparkling water, and one of hot tea.
Anette accepted the water, her throat again dry from walking. It was fresh and cold and she felt energy returning to her limbs as she drank.
The girl asked where Anette was going, and nodded gravely at her answer. “Take this,” she said, offering the silver bottle. “It pours anything one desires, and it never runs out.”
Once again, Anette tried to protest, but the girl would not hear it, and Anette continued her journey with the silver bottle tucked into her belt and the folded cloth under her arm.
As Anette came around another corner, she found a third cabin. In front of this cabin sat a maiden making clothing from thin air. She had a pair of golden shears, and when she snipped with them, instead of cutting and slicing, they made silken cloth and velvet ribbons appear. As she continued to snip, the cloth and ribbons came together into the most beautiful clothing.
Anette waved and made as if to continue without pausing, but the maiden called out to ask her whither she was going. Anette replied that she sought the sorcerer, and the maiden stood and ran on light feet to the edge of the road. She pressed the golden shears into Anette’s hand and said, “You have more need of these than I.”
Anette tried to demur, but the maiden would not be dissuaded, and insisted that Anette take the shears. Anette hugged and thanked her, tucking the golden shears into her belt next to the silver bottle.
Around the next corner, Anette found the sorcerer’s tower. It was surrounded by a small village whose buildings it loomed over, casting a long and dark shadow. Its walls were sheer and high, with no way to get inside. Again Anette was tempted to despair.
In the middle of the village, a beggar sat on the ground, his thin legs and arms like sticks jutting from his ragged clothing. Anette sat beside him and flicked the tablecloth out to lay it on the cobblestones before them. His eyes widened as roast chicken and baked potatoes appeared upon it, with buttered corn and fresh rolls, and apple pie for dessert.
“There is too much for just me,” Anette told him. “Please would you join me?” She didn’t have to ask twice.
As they ate, Anette asked him of the tower and the sorcerer, and he told her all he knew. The sorcerer’s name was Ansgar and he held the town in a thrall of terror.
The beggar, whose name was Dagfinn, told Anette, “Four days ago, Ansgar came down from his tower and announced that he was to marry in a week. If it is your Sigrid that he means to marry, then you have only three days. But, even if you had a year, there is nothing you could do. There is no way in or out of the tower.”
Anette shook her head. “There has to be something I can do.” She pulled the shears out of her belt and snipped the air until velvet and silk billowed like a blizzard around her. Dagfinn stared in amazement and, soon, the rest of the people of the village had gathered around to see what was happening. Anette sat for hours, making new clothes for all of them, until the people of the village were attired in finery better than that of any king’s court.
As the sun began to sink into the evening, a tall man clothed all in black stood before Anette. His face was pale and his eyes were deep and dark. He stared at the golden shears and his dark eyes glittered. “I would buy those from you,” he said in a voice that chilled Anette to the bone.
The crowd of people melted away like snow before the summer sun. Only Dagfinn remained, his new clothes clutched around his thin body. “Ansgar,” he whispered for Anette’s ears only, confirming her suspicion.
Anette looked up at the sorcerer, keeping her anger and fear from her face. “They are not for sale,” she said. “But I will give them to you in exchange for a favour.”
Ansgar looked down his long narrow nose at her. “What do you want?” he asked.
“I will give you the golden shears,” Anette said, “if you allow me to spend the night with your bride-to-be.”
Ansgar frowned at her, but agreed. He took her to the tower and lifted her up with magic to an opening in the wall near the top. Inside was a room with a canopy bed. In the middle of the bed lay Sigrid, fast asleep.
The sorcerer left them there together, but Sigrid would not wake. Anette wept and kissed Sigrid’s face and hands, she begged her to wake, but Sigrid slept on.
In the morning, the sorcerer took Anette away and put her back down on the ground below the tower.
Later that day, Anette sat with Dagfinn again and laid out the cloth to make a feast. The tablecloth made enough food for everyone in the village: ham and baked potatoes and steamed peas with garlic butter. And, for dessert, they had peach cobbler and ice cream.
As they finished, the sorcerer arrived again, looking down in interest at the remains of the feast. “Clever cloth,” he said. “It would be quite useful to me, especially for the wedding.”
Anette stared at him. “I will trade it for another night with Sigrid.”
Ansgar’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “Done.” He lifted her back up the tower to the same room where Sigrid lay on the bed, once again deeply asleep. Again, Anette tried to wake her, rubbed her hands and feet and kissed all over her face. But Sigrid slept on.
Frustrated and angry, Anette sat back on the bed and let her hands fall into her lap. One hand knocked against the bottle in her belt and she paused as a thought came to her. Drawing the silver bottle out, she studied it, wondering if it could really make anything one could drink. Could it make a draft of awaking? She must try, for she had no other hope.
Anette’s hands shook as she unstoppered the silver bottle and held it to Sigrid’s lips. She focused on her need for Sigrid to awake, willing the bottle to work.
And it worked. Sigrid swallowed, then her eyelids flickered. She looked up at Anette, who fell on her and wept in relief. Sigrid’s arms came around Anette and she whispered, “Anette. Oh, my Anette.”
They spent the remainder of the night in kisses and whispers of love. But, as the morning neared, they knew they must seek a way out of this mess. Soon, the sorcerer would come again for Anette, and Sigrid would remain here, imprisoned in this tower. Only two days remained before the planned wedding.
“I will never marry him!” Sigrid insisted. Then she bowed her head. “But he will kill me when I refuse.”
“We cannot let it come to that,” Anette replied. She threw her arms around her lover. “Oh, if only I had not listened to my sisters! If only I had trusted you had reason to hide your face!”
Sigrid smoothed Anette’s fiery tresses and kissed her brow. “Please don’t blame yourself, my love. No regrets now.”
Anette looked up into Sigrid’s face. “I know. When the sun rises, and you are a bear again, you can overpower him and escape.”
Sigrid sighed. “I would, but I no longer become a bear. It was the sorcerer who put that curse on me, and he has removed it.”
“Oh.” Anette bowed her head, and her gaze fell on the silver bottle, lying discarded on the bed. Snatching it up, she asked, “If this can make a potion to wake you, maybe it can make a transformation potion too.”
Sigrid’s eyes lit up, but then she shook her head. “There is still no way out of the tower. The sorcerer can only get in and out with magic.”
Anette studied the bottle. “If it can transform you, maybe it can transform me as well.” She tipped the bottle up to her lips and swallowed. A cloud of magic swirled around her, and she became a snowy owl.
Sigrid’s mouth fell open and she stared at Anette. Then she threw back the covers and scrambled from the bed and onto Anette’s back. Anette leapt into the air and out the window.
The sun rose as they landed, and Anette transformed back. They fell into each other’s arms, but then Dagfinn shouted, “Watch out!” and they looked up to see Ansgar flying down toward them. Anette turned to face him, but Sigrid grabbed the silver bottle and took a swig. Magic surrounded her and she turned into the familiar polar bear. She leaped and met the sorcerer in midair.
When the dust cleared, Ansgar lay at Sigrid’s feet and, when he stood up, the people of the village surrounded them. He raised his hands to cast a spell and the townspeople rushed him, pushing him against the outside of the tower and pinning his arms.
With so many people crowding him, Ansgar was overwhelmed and unable to do magic. Someone found a chain and wrapped it around him, the cold iron blocking his magic completely. Anette became the snowy owl again and carried him up into the tower. She locked him up and found the magic tablecloth and shears and brought them back down to where the villagers joined them in a feast.
The celebration lasted three days and, at the end, Anette and Sigrid took their leave. They entrusted the shears, the tablecloth, and the bottle to the people of the village for they no longer had any need of them. In fact, since drinking the transformation potions, they were now able to become the polar bear and the snowy owl whenever they wished.
They returned to the castle in Winterland where they lived happily ever after.