The Little Girl and the Cave (Fantasy Fables)

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a little girl from a poor family. Her father grew climbing beans and her mother had died not long after she was born, and they had little left between them but a hut, two chickens and a goat. Yet the father loved his daughter, and she loved him, and though their life was hard he taught her always to be generous and kind.

One day, the little girl was wandering in the woods picking mushrooms when she stumbled across a cave she had not seen before. Thinking there may be good mushrooms inside, the girl entered and walked for several minutes down into the dark. Finally, when it was so dark she could no longer see, and she still had not found any mushrooms, the girl decided to turn around – but at that moment, a voice from the darkness spoke.

“Who goes there?” it asked, and the girl could hear it was a man’s voice, deep and wary, “Who dares disturb my home?”

“I am Isobel,” said the girl, for that was indeed her name, “And I am sorry to intrude. I did not realise you were living here. I was looking for mushrooms.”

At her reply the man’s voice softened. “That is well,” he replied, “And I am sorry for my suspicion. Sadly, there are few mushrooms here, for they grow poorly in this bitter cold.”

“It is well,” said Isobel, who was a brave child, and though she could not see the stranger’s face was not in the least bit frightened, “I have some already here in my basket. Perhaps we could share them, if you are hungry, for there are none here to be found?”

“That is most kind of you,” said the man, “I shall fetch my knife and slicing butter, and we shall partake of them together.” And then the man struck a fire, and Isobel saw that he was a kind old man, of pleasant face and golden hair, and that he carried with him a small knife and a stick of butter on a small wooden tray. Together they cut the mushrooms and slathered them in thick slices of butter, and when the fry was done the pair partook of the creamiest, most delicious mushrooms the girl had ever tasted.

When the meal was finished – with some mushrooms set aside for Isobel’s father of course, as was proper – the man thanked Isobel, and bade her take with her his tray of butter and slicing knife. “My humble thanks,” he said, “For a delicious meal and your delightful company.” So Isobel, knowing better than to refuse a gift, thanked the man and returned home with the knife and butter and the mushrooms for her father, who agreed that they were the best he’d ever tasted.

Many months passed and times grew harder. The winter frost struck much of the harvest, and the king raised taxes which many families could not pay. Desperate, Isobel’s father was forced to sell their chickens, and without eggs to bring to market was forced to send his daughter many times into the woods looking for blackberries, which they could turn to wine and jam.

One day, Isobel was wandering in the woods picking blackberries when she again found herself outside the same cave as before. Seeing thorny vines extending into it, the girl entered and walked for several minutes down into the dark. Finally, when it was so dark she could no longer see, and she still had not found any blackberries, the girl decided to turn around – but at that moment, a voice from the darkness spoke.

“Who goes there?” it asked, and the girl could hear it was the man’s voice, deep and wary, “Who dares disturb my home?”

“It is I, Isobel,” said the girl, “And I am sorry again to intrude. I was not sure if you were still in here. I was looking for blackberries.”

At her reply the man’s voice softened. “That is well,” he replied, “And I am sorry again for my suspicion. Sadly, there are no blackberries here, for they cannot survive amongst this rocky ground.”

“It is well,” said Isobel, “I have some already here in my basket. Perhaps we could share them, if you are hungry, for there are none here to be found?”

“That is most kind of you,” the main said again, “I shall fetch my cup and sugar and we will make sweet blackberry wine.” And then the man struck a fire, and again Isobel saw that he was a kind old man, of pleasant face and golden hair, and that he carried with him a pouch of sugar and a small wooden cup. Together they squeezed the juice and mixed it with the sugar, and when it was done the pair partook of the sweetest, most intoxicating blackberry wine the girl had ever tasted.

When the wine was drunk – with some set aside for Isobel’s father of course, as was proper – the man thanked Isobel, and bade her take with her his sugar and his cup. “My humble thanks,” he said, “For a delicious drink and your delightful company.” So Isobel, knowing better than to refuse a gift, thanked the man, and returned home with the sugar and cup and the blackberry wine for her father, who agreed it was the best he’d ever drunk.

Months passed, and times grew harder still. The spring rains flooded out the fields, and the king again raised taxes until even more families could not pay. Despairing, Isobel’s father was forced to sell their goat, and without milk to live on had to send his daughter many times into the woods looking for rabbits, which they could sell as meat and fur.

One day, Isobel was wandering in the woods hunting rabbits when she for a third time found herself outside the stranger’s cave. Seeing rabbit tracks leading into it, the girl entered and walked for several minutes down into the dark. Finally, when it was so dark she could no longer see, and she still had not found any rabbits, the girl decided to turn around – but at that moment, a voice from the darkness spoke.

“Who goes there?” it asked, and again it was the man’s voice, deep and wary, “Who dares disturb my home?”

“It is I, Isobel,” said the girl, “And once more I am sorry to intrude. I should have known by now you’d be in here. I was looking for rabbits.”

At her reply the man’s voice softened. “That is well,” he replied, “And I am sorry once more for my suspicion. Sadly, there are no rabbits here, for they are too afraid of this oppressive dark.”

“It is well,” said Isobel, “I have some already here in my basket. Perhaps we could share them, if you are hungry, for there are none here to be found?”

“That is most kind of you,” the main said again, “I shall fetch my stick and twine and we shall have ourselves a roast.” And then the man struck a fire, and once more Isobel saw that he was a kind old man, of pleasant face and golden hair, and that he carried with him a thin stick and a small ball of twine. Together they skewered and tied a rabbit and cooked it well over the fire, and when it was done the pair partook of the richest, most succulent meat the girl had ever tasted.

When the meal was done – with some set aside for Isobel’s father of course, as was proper – the man thanked Isobel, and bade her take with her his roasting stick and twine. “My humble thanks,” he said, “For a delicious feast and your delightful company.” So Isobel, knowing better than to refuse a gift, thanked the man, and returned home with the stick and twine and the roasted rabbit for her father, who agreed it was the best he’d ever had.

Many months passed, and times grew impossibly hard. The summer sun bought fires, and the king’s taxes drove families out of house and home. Destitute, Isobel’s father called to her and gave her grave and terrible news. “We have nothing more, my dearest,” he told her, “We have no goat or chickens, no hidden coin or heirloom. I fear the tax collectors will soon take me away in irons, for I cannot make their payments, and we have nothing left to sell.”

Filled with despair they wept together, before finally Isobel spoke. “I will gather the stranger’s gifts,” she told her father, “For though it is crude to sell that which is in kindness given, in desperate times we must use every coin.” Then she went to the drawer which held the stranger’s butter knife – but to her amazement, when she opened it what lay there was no simple tool, but a sword of finest steel with sapphires in the hilt. Overawed, she ventured down into the basement where the stranger’s butter was kept cool – but to her amazement, when she looked down there what lay in the corner was no simple butter tray, but an exquisite tray of amethysts upon which rested a hunk of pure gold.

“Quickly!” cried Isobel’s father, and one by one they found the stranger’s other gifts, and one by one found them magically transformed. The small cup of wood was now a noble goblet, worked from flawless silver and inlaid with rubies; the pouch now filled not with sugar but with entire handfuls of diamonds. The stick which they had used to roast rabbits was now no stick at all but a mighty staff of solid oak, intricately carved with magic runes, and when Isobel removed the twine she found it no longer simple string but a heavy necklace of thick, gleaming pearls.

Thus did Isobel and her father rejoice and praise with joy the stranger’s kindness. Their money problems were no more, and with the treasure in their hands they paid not just their debts but those of the entire town, and still had boundless wealth to spare. Isobel’s father married the widow of the local lord, who had herself fallen on hard times, and they all three moved to the lord’s manor, from where their generosity spread and the land prospered and bloomed beneath their rule.

For a time, all was well; until one day it came to pass that word of this ascendant farmer’s family and their incredible wealth and kindness reached the ears of the distant king, who listened intently and with great interest. The king was a proud and greedy man, and he gnashed his teeth with envy as his couriers described the treasures Isobel and her father possessed, the prosperity they had encouraged, and the love their subjects held. Eventually, the king could bear it no longer, and he set off towards the town in his gilded carriage with his army and entourage in tow.

When he arrived at the lord’s manor the king sought out Isobel and her father and demanded imperiously to know from whence their wealth had came. Though surprised, Isobel replied honestly, and she told the king of her journeys to the cave and of the stranger, of their meals together, and of the gifts he had given her in return. Ecstatic, the king set off into the woods in the direction Isobel had told him, and before long found himself and his army outside the cave she had described. Imagining the countless treasures laying inside, the king and his men entered and walked for several minutes down into the dark. Finally, when it was so dark that they could no longer see, and they still not had found any treasure, they decided to turn around – but at that moment, a voice from the darkness spoke.

“Who goes there?” it asked, a man’s voice, deep and wary, “Who dares disturb my home?”

“Who am I?” replied the king, incredulous, “How dare you! I am the rightful ruler of these lands! I demand you reveal yourself at once and render unto me what is rightfully mine!”

At his reply the man’s voice hardened. “That is ill,” he growled, “For I recognise no sovereign. There is no treasure for you here, king, and you would do well to take your men and leave.”

“Impudent whelp,” said the king, “I have here a hundred swords for your impertinence. I will jam them down your throat, if you deny me, and take all there is to be found.”

“That is most unwise of you,” the man growled again, “But very well. I shall fetch my gold and silver and you shall see what treasure you have won.” And then the man struck a fire, and in horror the king saw that he was not a kind old man but a gigantic dragon, of golden scales and silver teeth, and that from his lips curled smoke and death. Terrified, the king screamed for his men to flee, but the dragon opened its jaws and swallowed them all in flames, and when it was done he partook of the noblest, most regal meal he had ever tasted.

While the dragon was eating, Isobel and the townsfolk, who had heard the commotion, rushed through the woods to the cave, where the beast called to Isobel and bade her take the king’s blackened crown. “My humble thanks,” he chuckled, “For a delicious meal and your delightful company.” And Isobel, knowing better than to refuse a gift and better still than to refuse a dragon, thanked him profusely, and returned home crowned queen of all the land and its people, who soon agreed she was the best they’d ever had.