There’s something very… modular about fairy tales. The individual building blocks are
firmly established and don’t tend to change - it’s just the way they’re arranged that makes
a story unique. You got dashing princes, beautiful princesses, questing knights,
benevolent kings and queens, evil magic people, good magic people, heroic peasants,
cruel step-parents, clever tricksters, talking animals, dragons, trolls, the works. Spin a
few wheels and out pops a fairy tale. The Frog Prince? A [dashing prince] is [cursed] by an [evil
witch] to become a [friendly talking animal] until he is saved by a [beautiful princess].
It’s pretty telling that most of these stories don’t even bother to name any of the
characters - the role they fill matters a lot more than their actual individual character.
But despite how basic these archetypes are, the stories they slot into can still be really
interesting - and while most of us have a passing knowledge of the big names like Red Riding Hood,
Hansel and Gretel, and anything Disney ever monetized, there’s a lot of really neat stuff
out there that doesn’t get the same kind of press. So today let’s talk about a bite-sized
Norwegian fairy tale with dashing princes, heroic peasants, and at least one dragon.
Our story begins with a [benevolent king and queen] who are regrettably also pulling duty as a
[tragically childless couple]. The Queen is pretty bummed about that whole situation, and is out for
a walk sublimating her feelings about it when she stumbles on a [mysterious old woman] who happens
to be a [witch]. The lady asks her what’s wrong and when the queen fills her in on the No Kids,
Cradle Empty situation, she gives her some cryptic advice, telling the queen to take a two-handled
jug and put it upside down in the corner of her garden overnight. The next morning, two
roses will have grown under it, one red and one white - the queen should choose one rose to eat,
red if she wants a son, white for a daughter, but under no circumstances should she eat both.
The queen heads home and takes her advice, not really expecting all that much, but the next day
she finds that, surprisingly, the witch was right on the money and the roses have really grown!
She agonizes for a bit over which one to eat, reasoning that a son might eventually
need to go off to war but a daughter will have to marry some foreign lord and either
way she’ll lose the kid someday. Jeez, way to be a downer about this Magical Baby situation.
Anyway, after a few minutes of dithering she settles on the white one, but the rose turns
out to be super delicious and nutritious so she ignores the warning and eats the other
one too. Denying the explicit orders of a witch in a fairy tale? What could possibly go wrong?
Nine months pass, and while the king is out warring, the queen gives birth to twins - one
healthy baby boy and one lindworm, aka a dragon. Ah, those magical pre-ultrasound days where every
pregnancy was a surprise. Anyway, the lindworm skedaddles outta there real quick and the queen’s
like “Welp. Hope that was a hallucination.” and just… doesn’t bring it up ever. Neato.
So years pass and the [dashing prince] grows to be a very fine young man, and eventually he’s sent
off to find a suitably [beautiful princess] to be his bride. But when he tries to leave the kingdom,
the road is blocked by a massive lindworm that tells him “A bride for me before a bride for you!”
The prince heads back, thoroughly confused, and the queen confesses that the lindworm is
actually right on the money - technically he was born first, making him the older brother,
so he kind of has to get married first. So the king starts contacting far-off
kingdoms to ask for a bride for his son - though he doesn’t say which son - and when the requisite
[beautiful princess] arrives, a lavish wedding is held and she’s married off to the Lindworm,
who promptly eats her. The Lindworm still demands a bride, since evidently devouring the bride
on the wedding night means the wedding doesn’t count, so the king writes to a different kingdom,
gets a second [beautiful princess] shipped over, and the exact same thing happens.
Now never let it be said that these [benevolent royals] can’t learn from their mistakes. The
king’s not too eager to make an enemy of a third kingdom, so instead he goes to his royal shepherd
and tells him his beloved and conveniently expendable daughter is going to marry the
lindworm whether she wants to or not. It’s always so lovely to see a ruler who really goes the extra
mile to connect to his people like that. Now the [heroic peasant girl] obviously
doesn’t want to get eaten, so she does what any self-respecting protagonist would - she
goes for a walk in the spooky woods lamenting her doom until a [mysterious old woman] who happens
to be a [witch] pops out of the woodwork to ask her what’s wrong. The shepherdess
fills her in on the situation and the witch gives her some very specific instructions
on how she can survive her wedding night. The wedding day arrives, lavish party, beautiful
bride, commendably scaly groom, etcetera etcetera - but that night, following the witch’s advice,
the shepherdess has the castle staff bring her a few things. She layers on ten dresses,
preps two basins of lye and milk, and gets ready for some fairy tale shenanigans.
When the Lindworm tells her to ditch the dress, she tells him to lose a skin. He’s a bit thrown by
this request, but agrees - but after he sheds the skin, surprise, she’s got another dress on! Guess
you’d better lose another skin if you want a piece of this! They repeat the process several times,
and by the time the shepherdess is down to her last dress, the lindworm is in pretty rough
shape. This is when the plan enters phase two. Following the witch’s instructions to the letter,
the shepherdess grabs a whip, which I guess the castle staff just assumed was
for totally kosher bedroom fun times, dips it in the lye and whacks the lindworm with
it. Then she dumps the milk over him, and then - possibly most surprisingly - she hugs him.
The next day the staff are shocked to discover that the shepherdess is not only alive, but
cuddling up to a very handsome [dashing prince]. With the lindworm officially freed from his cursed
existence by being quite literally whipped into shape, the kingdom is overjoyed and the wedding is
held all over again, this time with feeling. The prince and the shepherdess are happily married for
real this time and everyone lives happily ever after except for those two princesses who got
totally murdered. Sorry ladies, but someone’s gotta pay the price for the rule of three!
[Bring Me To Life - Evanescence]