Wander about looking dismayed

[aestrix]

There is a certain reason why wandering around outside by yourself while looking dismayed and thinking about your troubles might get you a bit more than sore feet, burrs in your shoes, and catharsis.

Sometimes, you might just find a mysterious old woman. It's hard to tell them apart from perfectly ordinary old women, just the way mist curls around her feet or for the way her eyes catch the light a bit too well, or other telling signs of mysteriousness. Those vary, though, and often it's quite a good idea to err on the side of caution with these things, and take care with heeding their advice.

While their advice often is a very bizarre set of instructions, following them perfectly will get you exactly the result the mysterious old woman advertised, without fail. If she advertises a fixed roof if you were to weave a net made of reeds picked only at midnight on a new moon and then drape it over your roof at sunrise, or a full stomach if you filled a large pot with clear water, acorns, and fresh wildflowers and put it over a fire and leave it to simmer for four hours, you will get a fixed roof or a pot filled with delicious stew. If you follow the instructions exactly.

If you don't, you could get something else entirely.

Comments

[mydarkness]

Queen Joralina of Mahlirou is not very good at following instructions.

She tries. But when the moment comes, she has to close her eyes and spin the bowl around, because the choice between a red rose for a boy and a white rose for a girl is just too hard to make; and then she opens her eyes to find the white rose eaten and half a red petal on her lips, and she thinks of what her husband would say if after all this trying she had only a girl, and she eats the second rose.

The queen gives birth to twins: the younger a perfectly ordinary baby boy, the elder a long green serpent with two tiny scaly arms who escapes out the window while she is busy producing its sibling. She swears the midwife to silence.

Prince Taphinieu is an unexceptional child, quiet and serious, polite and obedient. Nothing about him suggests that he might secretly be a mythical reptile.

When he is eighteen years old, King Antimoun decides it is time for him to marry. Inquiries are made in the neighbouring kingdoms, and a candidate is selected, one of the seven daughters of the king of Enniver. Prince Taphinieu quietly acquiesces, and sets out with his entourage to meet the princess.

Less than halfway to the border, his procession is interrupted by the sudden and calamitous arrival of a huge green serpent with two scaly arms.

"A bride for me before a bride for you!" it hisses.

"Um," says the prince. He takes his entourage and turns around and goes home. The lindworm does not follow.

When the queen reveals that the lindworm is indeed the prince's older brother to the best of her knowledge, the king grits his teeth and goes looking for princesses further afield; if he must marry the beast off, he's not going to waste an advantageous political connection on it. A bride is located and delivered. She marries the lindworm unwillingly, and in the morning there is nothing left of her but a few bloody shreds of her beautiful wedding dress.

The worst of it is, this doesn't even work. When they send out Taphinieu to fetch the neighbouring princess again, the lindworm appears once more on the road and wails its ominous message.

The king, now entirely fed up with the whole business, begins to look elsewhere for brides. Unmarried young women of Dianaevo are invited to the palace and then never seen again, on first a monthly and then a weekly basis. It isn't working, but no one has thought of a better solution, or at least if they have the king has not heard of it.

[light_another_life]

There is an unmarried young woman who finds this very alarming.

She considers her options, decides against flinging herself at the nearest available husband, fleeing the country, or siccing her brother on the royal family, and instead takes half an hour to sob in her room until the shaking and the tears stop. After that, what's left is a grim determination.

It's perhaps not the right mood, for looking for mysterious old women, but if this doesn't work she can probably work herself up to a proper cry again. It's just not very useful when one is likely to need to write. Too much shaking, hard to see the letters.

Out she goes, with paper, a sturdy bit of wood to write on, and a stick of charcoal, and then she wanders, attempting to look dismayed and only really managing stubborn (albeit slightly sniffly) determination.

[pythbox]

And when she has wandered to a secluded place, a mysterious old woman approaches.

Her skirts leave no tracks where they sweep over the dusty cobblestones, and the gnarled wood of her walking-stick gleams a pristine silvery white. Mysterious as anything, she is.

She looks at the young woman and says, "My dear, why are you so..."

Here she pauses, and seems to have a little trouble finishing her sentence.

[light_another_life]

"... I can probably start sobbing again without much trouble, if you need that for the magic," offers Imarivet, noting the - mysteriousness of this woman. Bingo.

[pythbox]

"That won't be necessary," says the mysterious old woman. It's hard to tell amid all those wrinkles, but she might be smiling slightly. "But do tell me of your troubles."

[light_another_life]

She smiles back, a little.

"Right, so, for the last few months, unmarried girls have been spirited away to the palace very quietly, possibly to do something involving a large carnivorous reptile, and have not been heard from again since. I don't know how long it's been going on but it's weekly now. I - would like them returned if possible or viable, but definitely for whatever this is to stop."

[pythbox]

"A problem if ever there was one," says the mysterious old woman. "Would you like my advice?"

[light_another_life]

Imarivet takes a deep breath, raises her bit of wood and paper and stick of charcoal to better write things with, and then says, only a little shakily, "Yes please."

[pythbox]

"Then listen closely and do just as I say," the mysterious old woman instructs.

"Tomorrow morning, go to the palace and tell the guards that you were summoned to marry the elder prince."

She speaks slowly and clearly, with short pauses to be sure Imarivet is getting it all down.

"Before the marriage ceremony, dress yourself in ten snow-white shifts beneath your gown. Ask that a tub of lye, a tub of milk, and as many birch rods as a man can carry be brought to your bridal chamber. If you have practical difficulties accomplishing any of these preparations, you will find the younger prince very willing to help you. After you are wed, when your husband orders you to shed the first shift, bid him to shed a skin first. He will ask you this nine times, and when you are left wearing one shift you must whip him with the rods, wash him in the lye, bathe him in the milk, wrap him in the discarded shifts, and hold him in your arms."

[light_another_life]

She startles a little at 'summoned to marry the elder prince' but she doesn't question it or protest and focuses on writing. Write write write, her handwriting is not the best it's ever been but everything here is perfectly legible.

"... Am I allowed to ask questions about the procedure?" she wonders, when all of it is written down.

[pythbox]

"You may," the old woman says agreeably.

[light_another_life]

"Excellent, okay. Does the milk have to be from a certain animal, and if not, does it all have to be from the same type of animal, or can we, in a pinch, mix milk types to fill the tub properly?"

[pythbox]

"The exact nature and origin of the milk are unimportant."

[light_another_life]

Nod.

"Size of the tub? Strength of the man carrying the birch rods?"

[pythbox]

"The tub should be of such a size that a grown man or woman could bathe in it; the birch rods should number no fewer than ten, and no more than a capable servant can carry in a single bundle."

[light_another_life]

She writes these down, nodding.

"Filled to nearly overflowing, or do we have some leeway for how filled the tubs are?"

[pythbox]

"Filled to a depth sufficient to bathe in."

[light_another_life]

Write write, nod.

She hesitates, then asks, "Is there a, a certain level of force I should use for, the, um, whipping?"

[pythbox]

"It will not be difficult to break the rods with it, but they must all be broken in this way before you proceed to the next step."

[light_another_life]

Wince, write.

"And I assume before my, my husband asks me to shed a shift I take off the dress?"

[pythbox]

"The exact fate of the dress is unimportant, but each time he sheds one skin in accordance with your request, you must afterward shed one shift in accordance with his."

[light_another_life]

Nod, write.

"Is how thoroughly I bathe him in lye and milk important?" Pause. "Do I need to bring a scrub brush?"

[pythbox]

"A scrub brush will not be necessary, only your hands and the tubs. Make a sincere effort to ensure that more of him is washed than left dry, each time."

[light_another_life]

She writes this down, then says, "... This all seems to follow the theme of 'as long as I am sincerely trying to follow the exact instructions you started with I'll be fine,' and I've definitely got those, so - um. I suppose I'll save you further time." Pause. "Thank you." She thinks...

[pythbox]

The mysterious old woman nods. "I am always glad to help someone in need," she says. "You will find the results agreeable, provided you follow the instructions."

And she turns and walks away, shimmering faintly with mysterious light.