The Boy and the Ice-Maid

The last wild songbird had already departed, and the grass and trees had long forgotten the green color of summer. If one traveled past the silent forest, and through the misty marsh, they would arrive at the lake. One would not be able to see their reflection in the lake, for it is frozen. And the icy surface of the lake looks just like it had a certain night, long ago.

...

         There once was a barbarian settlement on the eastern shore of the lake. They were a strange people, descended from the pagan tribes of the Norse-lands. Even after they migrated to this faraway region by the lake, it has been said that they retained their old barbaric traditions from their homeland. They hunted the prey of their ancestors, and they spoke in their old tongue, instead of assimilating into the culture of nearby tribes. But those were not the strangest things about the settlers. It has often been said that they were fearful of the lake, and never hunted fish or drank water from its reserves. They instead drew their water from wells, or journeyed for days to bring water back from the deep mountains. The other folk never knew why the barbarians went to such lengths and bother to obtain water. Since they drew their water from underground springs, they were never forced to take water from that particular lake. And since they shared no common tongue they were unable to ask the barbarians the reason of their apprehension.
They only spoke in hushed voices to one another about the strange folk miles away. But had they been able to understand, they too, would have avoided the lake.

...

         "Jacob, fetch water from the well for the stew tonight, and be hasty about it," said Alda to her son. He was ten and six winters old now, and he must learn to take the tasks of the household like his father had. His father was dead now, buried under a cairn in some battlefield back in their homeland, but Alda never mourned him. Her husband had been cruel to their family, and in truth, Alda was quite relieved when word of his death reached her. She had shed tears, but they were droplets of joy rather than sorrow.
         "Myrna--Mother--why must we tire ourselves hauling the bucket from the well when the lake shore is not even four stone throws away?" protested Jacob.
         "I have told you, many, many times, and I shall not tell it to you again," was the impatient reply of his mother.
         He trudged out of the straw hut, grabbing the wooden bucket on his way out. His mother and the tribe had always clung onto this silly water legend and distorted it into law, Jacob thought. It was said, that long before he was born, and their people had just settled by the lake, an old seer told them that a mermaid lived in the waters. This water spirit would entice humans with its beauty, and lead them over the edge of the water so they would fall in. The mermaid would then drown them and feast on their flesh. Jacob thought that it was a simple and grisly tale, likely devised as a way to keep children and peasants from contaminating some important tribesman's water. He could just imagine their chief stealing away at night, to draw sweet, clear water from the lake.



A wild thought struck him. He would take water from the lake, bring it back as proof to his mother that there was no man-eating water spirit awaiting in the clear water. After all, it was the tale of an old seer who was now dead. He had always thought it to be a rather ridiculous legend anyway. If bad came to worse, Jacob was sure that he could kill the mermaid with a throw of a river-pebble.
Without a thought, he strode to the edge of the lake and broke the ice with a determined jab of the wooden bucket. The ice split into a long jagged crack, which grew into blue branches and fractured into millions of hard, white leaves.
         He dipped the bucket into the lake--
---A hand, so pale that it was almost translucent, shot out of the silent lake. It and slid around on the floating pieces of ice, attempting to lift its owner out of the watery gloom.
         For all of his rebellious bravado, Jacob fainted.

Chapter 2

When he finally opened his eyes again, he saw two blue pools in a face of snow. It was the face of the monster of the legends, the ice-maid of the water. Her face was undeniably beautiful, in a pristine, delicate way, like untouched snow, punctuated by the watery meres of her eyes. A white river of hair flowed on her shoulders. He knew that such unnatural beauty only belonged to gods, spirits, and their ilk. He screamed, but the air stayed silent. A primal terror overcame him when he realized that a hand, cold and clammy, was guarding his mouth, not allowing him to open it. The arm it was attached to had the visual consistency of a fish's white belly, with the bluish tinge of ice. He tried to scramble backwards, but the lethargy of cold had overcome him, and his limbs would not comply. His struggling was in vain; after all, she had firmly anchored him to the water's edge with her hand. Her strength was inhuman, as were all things about her.
         "Why do you come to the lake?" She had a voice almost like the melodic laughter of bubbling water. Jacob could not reply, silenced by fear. The mermaid crawled farther out of the water, revealing a shimmering silver tail the length of a grown man. She flicked the water with her tail, spraying Jacob's face with droplets of freezing water. This seemed to jerk him back into reality, for he began to shiver.
They sat there, silently, for hours, until the sun sank closer to the horizon. Finally he spoke.
         "I-I-I'm Jacob." She stared at the ground, giving no acknowledgement that he had spoken. Thinking that he should ask her for her name, he started, but then stopped. He did not know how he should properly address a spirit. The seers always preached that one should make a sacrifice before attempting communication with the spirits. A sacrifice was needed for simple indirect communication, and Jacob did not know what would be required to address such a creature directly. They were silly thoughts, but he felt the need to consider it. Thankfully, she replied before he had time to contemplate communication more extensively.
         "Merith is my name." She looked up at him. She seemed almost defensive, but he thought that he saw shyness in her expression, or perhaps it was only the cold playing tricks on his mind.
         After a moment of silence, Merith sank back into the lake, her descent leaving not a disturbance on the surface of the water. To any passerby who looked upon the still lake, she had never existed at all.

...
It had been a long time since Merith had last seen one of his race. She had spent centuries in the lake. Few wildlife drank from her waters; most wild animals never ventured to places of the spirits. It was as if they had known, somewhere in their primitive minds, that it was a sacrilege to tread the domains of mystical creatures. The old folk of Jacob's tribe often said that it was heresy to cross the territories of immortals. They often remarked that it was sin to seek such beings, and that such forbidden interactions will only cause tragedy.
         

...
As she looked into his eyes, she thought that she could see something that she had long forgotten after ages in the lake---hope, and there was something else, too---wonder.

...

         Jacob told not a soul about the ice-maid, not even his own mother. He decided that it was wise to keep such supernatural encounters to oneself, for even mentioning his interaction with a mystical creature was enough to dispatch a war party. Besides, he was never close to his mother, Alda. Even so, Jacob possessed a great quantity of willpower for a boy of ten and six winters. He now took great detours to the lake, on every water-journey. He often told Alda that he would be fishing as well, from a different lake, to delay the time of his expected return. He would often sit with the ice-maid, and converse about various things. He would tell her about his life, and she would tell him about the lake. Sometimes, they would sing together, letting the strange song of a mermaid and a boy float across the frozen lake and soar through the wintry air.
         "Where are you from?" he asked her one day.
         "I, the ice-maid, come from the lake," she replied. She thought that it was rather obvious, so she was puzzled at why he asked.
         "No, before the lake," he laughed.
         "I was bore from the womb of the lake. I am old as it is, because I was born when the lake came to be."
         "I am only ten and six winters." Merith was still for a moment, then she became a torrent of laughter. Suddenly he laughed, too. He did not know why, but they began to laugh together, and their laughter became two playful rivers flowing together.
         "Are you ever lonely, Merith?"
         "If I was, I should say I am no longer."
         They always spoke under the ancient spruce tree that grew at the water's edge. It had long, tangled roots that drew life away from the water, and Merith said that it was as ancient as the lake.
"Look at the stars," said Merith one night, as they sat under the great spruce tree. He lifted his eyes to the heavens, and saw immense swaths of stars scattered over a sea of night. Some stars were brighter than others, but he immediately noticed that there were two that seemed to shine the brightest, illuminating the expanse of darkness.
"See those two stars over there?" he asked. She nodded, and he said, "That's us."
"They say that the stars that burn the brightest are the first to die," replied Merith solemnly. Jacob turned, and their eyes met. He thought he saw constellations glittering in her eyes, but when she blinked and stars fell out, he realized that they had been tears.
"Jacob, when you grow old, I'll still stay the same, like my lake. You will meet a girl of your race, who is not a monster like me, and you will raise a family with her. You will forget about me. Your hair will turn white, and one day, you will die. And this lake will still not have changed."
"I will never forget you, Merith, even after we turn into stars," he promised.

And so a mermaid and a boy sat together, under a spruce tree, looking up at the stars.

Chapter 3

"Myrna, how did father die?" asked Jacob one morning.
"Bah, don't ask such questions," grumbled Alda, glancing up from her quilt.
"Myrna, I must know. I am ten and six winters, and I will become a man the next winter."
Alda sighed, and threw her bone needles down on her lap. Truth be told, she did not care much for Jacob either, but at least she hated him less than his father.
"He was a warrior of our chieftain, quite a skilled one at that. Our chieftain presented him with a collar of gold for his bravery in battle--but he was a coward to me--anyway, he did not return after a battle. I asked around, and the chieftain said that he was likely slain on the battlefield. No one knew for sure that he died, but the fact is, he never made it back."
Neither of them said a word afterwards. There was nothing to be said.
Jacob soberly picked up his pail, and headed out to the lake. Before he left, he told his mother that he would go fishing again.
Every sundown, before he left the lake, Merith would give him a fish to take home to Alda as proof of his supposed fishing. The thing they both forgot- fish could not be easily found in the winter, and so every evening, Alda was bewildered at the meal-table. After long weeks of insatiable curiosity, Alda resolved to uncover the origin of the fish.

Jacob had often wondered about the man that was his father. He was but a babe when his father died. When he came to the water's edge, he was quiet, and his eyes were downcast. When Merith reared her head, she immediately sensed the weight of his mood.
"Why do you show such a sorry face?" she implored.
"The shadow of doom and death is upon me. Today my mother told me about my father, how he died. He was a great warrior, our chief gave him a gold collar for his merit. He was killed by a warrior on a battlefield. I was just a babe when he died. Death surrounds both our auras. It is said among my folk that spirits like you kill people.
"Tell me, Merith. Have you ever killed a man?" When Jacob said this, he raised his accusing eyes, and looked right at Merith's emotionless stare.


Never in centuries had an answer been demanded from a creature such as she. Merith knew that she did not need to answer, but she knew she must. She looked over the lake, then looked at the mortal boy in front of her, eyes full of melancholy and anger. If Jacob had said anything other than mentioning the gold collar of his father, Merith would never need to tell him. But he had.
In a voice as fragile and hollow as a snowflake, Merith told him.
"I did once kill a man...with a collar of gold." And when she spoke those words, everything shattered.
"Why?" he said, his breaking voice barely above a whisper.
"He had a babe with him. I heard him say that it was weak, that it was a disgrace to the gods. He was about to drop the babe into the winter lake when I snatched the babe from him and set him down by the bank. Then I sprang out once more and dragged him down into the depths of the water."
After Merith finished her tale, the two sat silently on the edge of the water, staring at the patterns on the water that the wind blew. After a long while, Merith finally spoke.
"Do you hate me?" she asked. He looked at her, an ancient spirit, but yet only a girl. He knew then that he did not hate her. He knew her story was true, for his mother had once told him that she found him by the edge of the lake, and she surmised that he had probably crawled there himself--a ridiculous explanation.
"No. I never have, and I never will, because I feel the opposite."
For the very first time in hundreds of years, Merith knew that she would sacrifice eternity for one moment.

...

Chapter 4

Alda could hardly believe what she saw. Her son was conversing with a mermaid on the edge of the cursed lake! It was the wicked ice-maid that the dead seer had warned of. Every time he had told her that he was going fishing, he had secretly spent his time bargaining with a water monster. That explained the mystery of the fish. Fear and greedy hunger engulfed her. She had overheard every word they had said. The monster had killed her husband. She did not really care about the demise of her husband, only the great possibilities this realization opened for her. In their barbaric culture, a widow must avenge the death of her husband in order to take another man as husband. Ever since she was a girl, Alda wanted desperately to marry the chieftain. But it was not to be, for her father traded her to a cruel man for two cattle. Now, her life could be rewritten, she could live the rest of her days as a rich chieftain's wife.
Without wasting a moment, she hurried back to the village. She ran so fast through the tall grass that the frosty ground burned her bare feet. She immediately went to the chief, her hair a tangled mass and her roughspun askew. When he stared at her in shocked surprise, she pretended to collapse, forcing him to hold her.
"What is the matter of haste, woman?!" he said with annoyed distaste.
"O Mighty Chieftain, I beseech you for your help in avenging my husband, the warrior to whom you gave your gold collar. The mermaid that lives in the forbidden lake drowned him! My son has been in the company of that monster--she has bewitched him with her unnatural powers---"
A cry of horror emanated from the congregation that has quickly gathered.
"---she admitted that she had killed my beloved husband. Oh, Chieftain, help me, I mean, help us! We must go and slay this demon to avenge my husband!" As Alda cried feigned tears, she fell to her knees, tugging at the robe of the chieftain.
Chieftains were expected to protect their people from harm, but this chieftain never bothered to defend his people. He did not see the need to waste his own resources to prevent the deaths of only a few lowly peasants. But this particular situation interested him. The barbarians were not strangers to confrontation with mythical creatures, but this chieftain had never slain a monster, and he was secretly eager to prove his strength and prowess. Besides, if the woman's husband was avenged, that freed her to marry him. He had already been through three wives, but this woman was quite sightly, he thought. Her flustered face had the look of royalty, and she did not seem like one who deserved to live in the straw huts. The mob was howling for blood, screaming for justice to be delivered. The chieftain knew that most did not care to deliver justice; they only wanted to carry the title of monster-slayer.
Even though he had already made up his mind to hunt the mermaid, he still wore a face of thoughtful contemplation, to deflect suspicions that he did not give much thought before sending his men to a dangerous mission. Every breath was held as he opened his mouth to speak.
"The time has come for us to destroy the fear that has kept us from living freely on this land, and fishing freely as our ancestors did in our northern homeland. We will hunt the mermaid of the forbidden lake, and slay her. All who will accompany me on this task of righteousness, TO THE LAKE!!!!"
A mob of forty-seven men and boys followed the chieftain through the forest and marsh to the lake. They carried torches with them, setting fire to bushes and grasses along the way. They left a trail of fire and destruction in their wake, ready to spill blood.

...

The warriors reached the frozen lake before sundown. They put out their torches a distance away from the lake, so that their large horde would not be revealed. The hunters hid in the tall grasses as they crept closer, so quietly that not even the grasses whispered of trouble. Their prey never had a chance to flee. The bloodthirsty mob dragged Merith out of the water, and bound her tail to the great spruce tree so that she could not flop back to the water. With the desperate speed of a cornered animal, Jacob snatched a dagger away from a young boy and tried to fight the villagers attacking Merith. The chieftain grabbed Jacob and held him back. They began to use axes to hack off the glittering scales and cut bloody gashes in her tail. She wailed, a primal howl of pain and sorrow that made every present mortal shiver. The inhuman scream was reminiscent of the cracking of river ice, and it seemed to drain the warm breath of her hunters. With a final burst of strength, Jacob freed himself from the grip of the chieftain, but was immediately trapped by a burly warrior and tied to Merith's tree. The tribesmen surround him, each taking turns striking him in the gut. He never winced in pain, even after blood started falling in red raindrops from his mouth.
"Dark magic, I say. She will die there, for she cannot reach the water. A terrible death at that," snorted the chieftain. He knew from legends that spirits were attached to some facet of nature, and if they were removed from it, they would perish.
Alda protested, "Oh, but don't kill my son. She has bewitched him, like I said."
The chieftain replied, "I will not kill him," but he added, "If that boy is going to become my son, he will learn to face the consequences of his evil associations, whether she bewitched him or not. I will send a man to work off his bonds on the morrow."
"Now come with me, woman, if you want to be spared your foolish lad's fate," he grumbled.
"As you say, my lord," Alda whispered in quiet resignation. After a great deal of barbaric war-victory cries the hunting party slowly receded back into the grasses, satisfied. As the small band of people disappeared into the sunset, Jacob tried to slide himself closer to Merith. He could not stand; he was tied down while he was sitting, but he edged one of his hands free through a straw rope. It was bound looser than the other, possibly on the account of the man who tied him hurriedly in his urgency to get back home. He could not free himself with one hand, much less release Merith from her stronger bonds of leather. But he could grasp a bit of Merith's white hair. She was lying face-first on the roots of the tree.
"Merith?" he manages to gasp. She turns, and he sees that the white snow of her back is riddled with stab wounds, slowly leaking silver blood. Three daggers are still embedded, likely planted by those who wanted to cause more suffering. Many of his people despised the spirits, and blamed them for the sorrows of their lives.
But it is as if her face is not attached to the rest of her, for she smiles at Jacob as he cradles her head. No hatred is apparent in her blue eyes, which are quickly fading to white. A single tear slowly slid down her white cheek.
"Do you remember that night when we looked up at the stars? I wish---" But before she can finish, the light leaves her eyes.
"Merith! No! No! No!!!"
Even in death, she still bore the majesty of the frozen lake, but without her living presence, the unnaturally thick ice began to dissipate. All around them, the parts of the frozen ice melted and shattered. The water began to rise rapidly, covering the roots of the tree. The water rose higher and higher, but the boy did not seem to notice, even after it reached his throat and beyond. By the time the moon rose, the water already claimed the boy and his ice-maid.
That night, the lake was deathly silent, as if it was afraid that the slightest of movements would betray what lay beneath.
If one traveled past the quiet forest, and across the marsh, they would reach the lake. And if one were to look upon the still surface of the lake, there would be no indication that the boy and his mermaid existed at all. But if one listened to the lonely spruce tree, the only witness, it would tell one that the boy was still brushing Merith's hair even as the water closed over his head and drowned him. No one can ask a tree a question; the lake keeps its secrets. And no one would ever know that over a thousand years ago, mermaid and a boy died together, under a spruce tree, beneath the stars. But if they looked up at the night sky, and there were no clouds, they might see two stars, shining so brilliantly that they could have been one.