The Nymph and The Scarecrow

Once there was a young girl named Gwen who lived in the forest. She was in the early years of her womanhood, and her eyes were the color of mermaid tears while her hair glowed with the radiance of soft sunshine. She loved to wander among the trees, picking red and purple flowers and trying to guess the names of the birds singing in the treetops above her. She felt at home among the trees, her hand passing over the bark, and she softly whispered to them as if they could hear her.

Unfortunately for the girl, she lived with her grandmother, who was a wicked witch. Many of the flowers that the girl collected were used in foul and evil potions, as well as the other herbs that the witch used for other purposes. Gwen often had trouble sleeping at night, for every evening a shadow would descend upon the house as her grandmother sat in the corner rocking back and forth, reading out of her spellbook. It was an evil place, and the girl was always deathly afraid.

However, she could not leave. Her grandmother forbade her, and being a good girl, she obeyed her. She did what her grandmother bade her to do, but she wanted nothing to do with the dark magic that her grandmother practiced. When Gwen was away from their small house, wandering among the trees, she would daydream of one day leaving everything behind to be welcomed into the arms of a handsome man, perhaps even a prince. 

One day, Gwen was sent by her grandmother to a nearby farm to purchase food. The girl took her basket and went, singing softly to herself as she walked. When she left the trees, it was about another mile to the farm. As she came over the wheat fields she paused. In the field, tying up a scarecrow onto a post, was a boy with dark hair and warm eyes the color of a bear’s pelt.

When he turned, and their eyes met, they found themselves enchanted by one another. He was the farmer’s son, and he sold her the food that her grandmother had required of her. Though they only met for a few minutes, she taking her provisions in her basket, they longed to see each other again. His name was Sam.

Once a week, the witch would send her granddaughter back to the farm to purchase more food. The girl was overjoyed. Though she and Sam only got to see each other for a few minutes, they found themselves falling deeper and deeper in love with one another, till one day, when the sun was golden upon the wheat, he said to her, “Tonight is a full moon.”

“It is,” Gwen said. “A time for werewolves and goblins.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Werewolves? Goblins? I do not know of such things. But I do know that when the moon is full, a fairy can be heard from this field in the nearby trees singing her song. It is the most beautiful music one has ever heard. Will you please come and listen to it with me tonight?”

Gwen hesitated, knowing that her grandmother would never allow her to journey to the farm in the dead of night. But the look he gave her moved her heart, and she said yes and returned to the forest. 

Gwen had to wait for an hour or so after the clock struck twelve. As we all know, witches that practice black magic see that hour as the point when their powers are strongest, especially when there is a full moon out and about. Gwen’s heart beat as fast as a fluttering little bird as she saw the colorful flashes coming from the crack under her door as her grandmother whispered incantations and cackled, her cauldron bubbling like a hot bath. Oh, the poor darling, how she was ever so afraid of the magic her grandmother practiced. But soon, as the night wore on, the cackles died away, and the water in the cauldron became still, and soon all Gwen could hear were the hog-like snores of her grandmother. After all, being a grandmother, she found sleep taking her easily in the dark hours, and she could not perform her witchcraft very long, even with the full moon in the sky.

Once she was deadly sure that her grandmother was asleep, Gwen stole away into the night. She snuck out of their hut, through the foreboding shadows of the trees to Sam. When she arrived, the field of wheat in which he stood was wreathed in ghostly silver. In the clear sky above, dazzled with frosty stars, the glow of the moon shined. The wind was gentle and cool on her cheek.

She came and stood next to him, placing her hand in his. They listened. From the trees came the melodious sound of a song, the most beautiful song that Gwen had ever heard.

“Do you hear her?” Sam asked.

She nodded. “Yes, I do.”

The song filled the air around them, and the wheat swayed in rhythm to the song. From the wheat rose little lights, the lights of fairies listening to the song of their queen. The lights circled and dazzled, twinkling like gems caught in firelight. They surrounded Sam and Gwen and the two of them watched the lights as the song continued. There were no words, just the sonorous cascade of the fairy queen’s song.

Sam removed his hat and bowed before Gwen, offering her his hand. “Would you dance with me?” he asked.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and she placed her hand in his. “Of course.”

Sam pulled Gwen close to him, and the two of them began to sway. She could feel the beat of his heart beneath his breast, and the warmth of his eyes lulled her into a trance of something like sleep. After some time of this moonlight dance, he leaned close to her. Their lips met. Their hearts blossomed beneath the shining stars.

After a while, Gwen told Sam that she had to go lest her grandmother suspected what she was doing.

“Please, come tomorrow, so we may dance to the fairy’s song,” he begged. “The full moon will last another two nights, and I must see your beauty wreathed in such celestial light once again.”

Gwen was hesitant, thinking of her grandmother, but she agreed. She slipped from Sam’s grasp and went through the shadowy trees her lips still tingling from his kiss.

She slipped silently back into the house and into her room. She did not hear the whispers of her grandmother muttering her witch chants, so she knew she was asleep. Gwen closed her eyes, the memory of the fairy song carrying her off into warm, pleasant dreams where she and Sam danced until the waking of the dawn.

The next day, as she went about her chores, Gwen hummed the fairy song, a smile on her mouth as images of Sam passed through her mind. At one point, while her grandmother tossed frog eyes into the boiling cauldron she asked, “Dear Gwen, did you leave our home last night?”

“No, Grandmother,” lied the girl smoothly. “I slept and dreamed of red apples and berries in a spring grove”

“Oh. The wind must have been playing games with my old ears last night.” With that, she went back to stirring her frog eyes and her berry roots, her snake tongues and her withered rose petals.

Gwen detested lying, she was a good girl after all, but she feared what her grandmother would do if she knew the truth.

The next night, Gwen again slipped out of her room once she heard her grandmother’s mutterings die away into silence. And through the trees she was off, using splintered moonlight to guide her way until she found Sam waiting for her. Again, they danced to the fairy song and smiled at one another. The night passed quickly and soon Gwen was away, but not without a kiss on Sam’s soft lips and her assuring him that she would return again for the final night of the moon’s full light.

As Gwen neared her grandmother’s house, she spotted a black cat that she had never seen before watching her from the boughs of an old, gnarled oak, its yellow gemstone eyes leering at her. She thought it odd that this stranger of a cat was watching her so intently, but as she entered through her bedroom window and drifted off into a comfortable slumber, feeling sure that her grandmother was still asleep, she forgot all about it.

The next morning, as the grandmother whittled away at a dragon’s tooth, she asked her granddaughter again, “Dear Gwen, did you leave last night?”

“No, Grandmother. I dreamed of small sparrows hopping about in the snow.”

“Oh, blast. My tired, ancient eyes must have seen the shadows of tree branches at the window.”

That night, excited to see Sam, Gwen embarked for the field again as soon as she was sure that her grandmother was asleep. As she went out her window, she spotted the same cat from the night before, perched in the boughs of the same oak tree. The cat stared at her and Gwen shook her head. “Such an odd cat,” she whispered to herself and she was off.

Gwen arrived at the field and there was Sam again. He smiled at her and she ran right into his arms. The fairy was already singing and the lights were already flitting about them.

“Oh, Sam,” she said.

His smile grew wider. “Gwen, all this time you’ve been coming here, and you have not worried that your grandmother may have suspected what you were doing?”

Gwen found the question odd. “Of course. But I don’t think she realizes what I’m doing at all…and I hope she never does.”

Suddenly, Sam’s eyes flared yellow and his voice changed as he spoke. “How unfortunate for you, my dear!”

Sam melted away to reveal the stooped, wrinkled figure of her grandmother. Gwen recoiled in surprise, covering her hand with her mouth. “Grandmother!” The fairy lights flickered away and the song vanished from the air. The witch glared at her granddaughter.

“Why, child, did you think you could deceive me? Why did you think you could continually leave me to be with this fool of a boy?”

The witch snapped her fingers and Sam appeared next to her, his hands and mouth bound by magic. Gwen cried out and ran towards him but was pushed back with a flick of her grandmother’s finger. She fell to the ground and was not able to move.

“I watched you last night return,” she said. “As a cat perched in the gnarled oak tree outside of our cabin. I gave you the chance to reveal the truth to me, and I asked you if you had left the house the night before. And you lied to me and said no. You insolent, ungrateful child! Have I not cared for you? Have I not given you a roof over your head?”

Gwen began to weep. “Grandmother, please! I am so sorry. Please, Grandmother!”

But the witch’s heart was hard and cruel. “If you want to be with your lover so badly, I will make it so
that the two of you will always be together.” She turned to Sam. “You, boy, a simple farmer, will never leave this field. You will stand guard of it always, the true calling of your life.” She snapped her fingers. Sam’s eyes went wide as he began to change. His flesh rippled and softened, turning into straw, his face became a rough cotton sack with button eyes and a stitched mouth. He wore a black hat, and a post raised him from the ground. Sam was gone and, in his place, stood a scarecrow, his head tilted too far to one side.

Gwen screamed and her grandmother turned to her. “And you, child. You will stand over him and watch the field as well. I will have mercy on you because you are my granddaughter. I will turn you into a beautiful oak tree, and your branches will reach towards the sun.” She snapped her fingers, and Gwen closed her eyes in sorrow. Her skin hardened into bark and she grew taller. Her hands floated above her head and her fingers elongated and spread into branches, sprouting leaves. Soon, the girl was gone and nothing stood there but a tall and gorgeous oak tree, casting shadows in the moonlight.

The witch left and never returned to the field. She went to her home and continued to practice her magic until one day she was slain by a goblin, but that is another story. To this day, the oak tree and the scarecrow stand in the wheat field, swaying in the wind. But it is said that when the moon is full, the fairy still sings her song, and the field becomes dazzled with lights. And when the silver rays kiss the scarecrow, he leaps down from his post, his lanky legs carrying him to the oak tree. There, in the dark blush of shadow and moonlight, comes from the branches a golden-haired girl, covered in a leaf-woven dress, wearing a crown of flowers on her brow. The scarecrow takes off his hat and bows to the lady, who smiles and gives her hand to him. And then they dance with fairy lights bobbing about them, the fairy queen’s song carried on the wind. There are shivers in the leaves of the oak, and the stars and moon watch as an audience for the dance of the nymph and the scarecrow.

Cover Photo: Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/victoria_borodinova-6314823/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=2972523">press 👍 and ⭐</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=2972523">Pixabay</a>

Forest Photo: Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/jplenio-7645255/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=3119826">My pictures are CC0. When doing composings:</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=3119826">Pixabay</a>

Witch Photo: Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/jstolp-9168377/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=3693374">Jo Stolp</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=3693374">Pixabay</a>

Nymph Photo: Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/kellepics-4893063/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=2391033">Stefan Keller</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=2391033">Pixabay</a>