The Art of Narration

Once Upon A Time…

There was a castle on a hill. Inside was the most beautiful family in all the kingdom as their love for each other only grew with each rising sun.

In the same castle was also the royal family.

The day the King and Queen’s daughter turned thirteen, she was presented to the Court with much pomp and ceremony. Her name was Aurora because she was like the dawn; and, Aurora was the queen’s mother’s middle name. The King could not have cared less what his daughter’s name was, as long as she was fair of face and temperament. And so she was; Aurora was beautiful beyond the ordinary and kind when she remembered to be. Mostly, she spent her time with her head in the clouds.

As the princess walked gracefully down the center of the crowd gathered to celebrate her coming of age, a wicked wizard appeared from the dark outreaches of the room. He was corrupted absolutely by greed, and sought to have the kingdom for himself. The evil wizard cast a villainous curse upon Aurora; who fell upon her hands and knees, and was transformed into a pure white swan. With a final cackle, the evil wizard fled with the princess to his black tower high above the plains of the castle.

The King, after a nudge from his Queen, called for a quest. The knights and princes present assembled before him in a shining line of heroic might.

The first prince shook his head, upon being asked to take up the princess’ plight, not wishing to expend the energy. He was rather lazy, and would have been sent to the church if his older brother had not caught the plague and died.

A second prince also refused to take the quest. He had his eyes on another princess. She was imprisoned by a dragon, which was much more frightening than an evil wizard. His princess was also rumored to be the most beautiful in the land, instead of simply being beautiful beyond the ordinary. If only he knew that no human had actually laid eyes upon her; he may have decided to err on the side of caution and claim a princess sure to be at least a little beautiful.

The third, and last, prince was brave and an accomplished swordsman. In fact, just last week, he had defeated an evil red dragon in the east. Unfortunately, he was preoccupied with discovering who he was now that he had defeated his nemesis, the aforementioned red dragon. In the midst of such an identity crisis the prince could not even imagine having to chase after the Evil Wizard.

The king looked to his most beloved knight, one who had seen many battles and rescued a multitude of princesses. Surely, he would take up the quest. But the knight did not wish to rescue a swan. Especially if the swan did not become a princess again upon her rescue; as had happened last he rescued a princess. She had been stuck forever as a doe. While the poor princess had taken to her new life like a fish to the water, she had left her would-be rescuer confused and a little wary.

With no one else to call upon, the King and Queen hung their heads in sorrow. They would never be able to make an alliance with the islands to the south without their daughter. It seemed as if their dreams of retiring at a castle beside the sea had been thoroughly dashed upon the rocks.

Then, from out of the crowd, came another man. This man was eighteen summers, but rather small and plain for his age, more of a boy than a man. He was the son of a stableman and a noblewoman’s sixth lady in waiting, the long awaited son of the most beautiful family in the kingdom: the family whose love for each other only grew with each rising sun. All this may explain why he did not look like a hero, as he did not come from a royal, or even brave, family.

It was this non-royal, non-brave, and therefore non-heroic, boy who had stepped forward to take the quest and save Aurora, the unfortunate princess turned swan.

The King and Queen laughed uproariously at the boy. The king ordered him to step aside so that another more worthy man might seek out his daughter and in effect win him back the isles in the south.

They chuckled, actually.

What?

The king and queen are not allowed to laugh uproariously. It is written so in their handbooks.

No, who are you?

I am the hero. You were writing the story wrong, so I stepped in to help.

The hero? That’s ridiculous.

Ah, but, I am speaking; I must be the hero.

Sure. But, you aren’t supposed to talk.

I also have a name, in the event that you might want to know.

You don’t have a name because this is a fairy tale, in which you aren’t supposed to talk.

Ah, I see… Do you have a name?

I don’t, as far as you are concerned.

Alas, I will have to discover your name later, dear Narrator. The King and Queen have stopped their chuckling. The story is beginning.

The boy insisted that he would go if another would not. Every knight and prince in the room immediately refused to help the princess, as they were not honor bound to offer their services once another man has volunteered. The king was forced to allow the young man to go after his swan. With the matter settled, the hero set out immediately.

No, I think I will sleep first, and then I should probably pack. One cannot reach the dark tower high above the plains of the castle in a day.

You don’t get to decide.

Yes, I do. The princess does not deserve an ill-conceived rescue. I will sleep and pack. I can set out tomorrow.

Fine.

The hero set out the next morning before dawn.

I am not really sure I want to go so early, maybe after dawn. Or noon, that is a good time to start an adventure.

Oh, is the great hero feeling lazy?

Not necessarily-

Uh huh, get on the road.

As you wish, Narrator.

The hero traveled a couple of miles before stopping just after noon in the shade of a large oak. The hero was unaware that the oak was a popular spot for merchants to take shelter, and a band of bandits had claimed the spot for their hunting ground. Soon, the hero was beset by ten men, all armed with knives, bows, and spears. If the princess’ hero had been one of the princes, or even one of the knights, she would not have had to fear for him; but the hero was only a lowly stable man's son. Beloved though he was, the hero was no match for so many men.

As the hero resigned himself to death, surrounded on all sides by bandits, a figure appeared from the surrounding woods. The figure had once been a great knight.

And still is.

I am going to ignore you.

The hero looked in awe as the old knight dispatched the bandits without a drop of sweat appearing on his brow. The hero fell upon the ground at the feet of his savior and told the old knight of his plight.

Quest. And to complete the quest, I need training. Plight paints me as a spoiled prince.

Fine, quest.

The old knight, touched by the hero’s humility, agreed to train him in the art of the sword. The hero spent many months training with the grave old knight, who proved to be a good teacher. As the winter faded into spring, the hero grew in his abilities and learned many things besides the art of the sword. The two became fast friends, and completed several other quests together. Sadly, all good things must end, and so must these good days. The hero left teacher, and dear friend, as the spring warmed to summer and set off for the black tower at the top of the mountain high above the plains of the castle. He left before the breaking of dawn.

Again, Narrator?

Of course, aren’t you eager to go out and rescue your princess.

Yes, Narrator, I am earnest in my quest. But, not to save a princess.

You are not going to save the princess?

No, you misunderstand. I am going to save the princess. But, I am eager to save a girl whose parents and friends have all abandoned her.

I see. When did you-when did she become more than a princess to you?

It is something that the old knight said when I told him my story. If a poor son of a stable man can go on a quest like a prince, then a princess can have the heart that can be broken.

The old knight was wise.

He was, is, a good man.

And you wiser for knowing him?

I can only hope, dear Narrator. I will need any wisdom I have gained to save the princess.

So, will you leave before dawn?

Yes, Before the crack of dawn it will be. But, I get to stop for breakfast.

Deal.

As the hero walked on the road, enjoying a sweet roll from a town he had passed through, he came to a crossroad. To the left was a road heading into a deep woods, which ended at the foot of the mountains where the evil wizard lived in his dark tower high above the plains of the castle. To the right was a single sign advertising a fortune teller. The hero turned to the right, and walked down the road.

Are you sure this is necessary? I could be at the mountain in only three more days if I went to the left. The princess has already been imprisoned for so long.

You may do as you wish, Hero.

I know.

Then, why do you still go to the right?

I trust you, Narrator. If you wish for me to go to the right, and meet this fortune teller, then I will go to the right. I have been questing for months, a couple extra days will make no difference.

Why do you trust me, Hero?

You gave me a quest, a purpose, and led me to the old knight. I have you to owe for all the things I have learned from him.

You will not regret going to the fortune teller, Hero.

Then I will go.

The hero traveled to a whole day to reach the home of the fortune teller, who had hidden herself away deep inside a community of gnomes. He spent another three days in the caverns searching for the mystic. She was herself part gnome, and preferred the twisting underground cities of her mother’s kin than the village her father had raised her in. She had outlived both beloved parents by at least fifty years.

The hero bowed before her reverently, and asked humbly for her guidance in his quest. She, struck by his humbleness and his courage to face the evil wizard despite his parentage, told him his fortune; that he would return the princess safely home. To aid him in his quest, the old gnome gave the hero the Belt of Truth.

Do you know what it does?

Yes.

… So, what does it do?

I don’t have to tell you anything. Maybe you should ask the fortune teller.

With all due respect, she is so old and blind that she can barely tell what is edible. She has tried to eat a rock, twice. Oh, by the gods-

What?

She wants me to eat one.

A rock?

I may offend her if I do not.

You can’t eat a rock to avoid offending a gnome. Please, tell me you didn’t.

I set it on the ground. Luckily, she cannot tell one rock from another.

You wouldn’t have actually eaten it, right?

If I answer your question , will you answer mine?

You won’t be getting anything from me, I just tell the story.

Then I will discover it on my own, tricky Narrator.

As the hero strapped the belt around his waist, the wise old gnome told him of two more items he would need to complete his quest.

First, was the Hero’s Sword. The sword was made by goblins, its white steel would never rust and it could cut through any enchantment. The Hero’s Sword could be found in a nearby cavern, deeper in the gnomes dwelling, guarded by a dragon. The hero only had to kill the beast to gain his sword.

I have to kill the dragon to gain a sword, wonderful.

At least you have the Belt of Truth.

I am not sure how I am going to be able to defeat the dragon with a Belt of Truth, especially if you will not tell me what it does.

I don’t actually know what it does…

Truly?

I’m sorry. I was hoping the fortune teller would say. We’ll work on it together.

Do you know anything about the story Narrator?

Just listen to the gnome, Hero, she’s still talking.

Second was a fine necklace, which would teleport the princess to safety after the hero had freed her from her prison and broken the enchantment. It was deeper than even the dragon’s cavern, in an ancient place. The hero would have to pass a mysterious test to gain the necklace that would ensure the princess’ safety.

She will not tell me what the test is.

It’s supposed to be mysterious. You can’t know what the test is yet.

Maybe the dragon will know. We could have a nice chat before I run him through with the sword I do not have.

Perhaps. But, you aren’t supposed to be funny, Hero.

And did you decide as such, dear Narrator?

No, it just the way fairy tales are told. The hero is supposed to brave, charismatic, and strong; but never funny.

Would you like me to stop being funny?

I never said that, necessarily.

The hero thanked the fortune teller profusely for her wisdom, and began walking down the tunnel toward his fate. Soon, the temperature began to rise, for he was drawing near to the dragon’s cavern. With bravery in his heart, and love lending strength to his steps, the Hero seized his chosen road.

I like your laugh, Narrator. It reminds me of the sunshine in this dark situation.

You will reach the dragon soon, Hero. My laugh will not help you defeat the beast.

Maybe not.

Certainly not. What are you going to do?

Hope. And, listen.

The sword must be in the cavern with the dragon.

If I can distract it long enough… Maybe I could find the sword before it eats me.

And, how will you distract the dragon?

With my insufferable charm and good looks.

Maybe something a little more reliable?

What if you spoke to it? Surely, even a dragon would be surprised and intrigued by such a laugh in its head.

I cannot speak to anyone else.

I must be special.

You are the hero.

I am… I must defeat this dragon, Narrator. The princess needs someone to save her, and no one else will come after me.

I understand, Hero. Have you considered your belt yet?

What about the belt? Wait, are you suggesting a weapon?

How long is it?

It wraps three times around my waist. Why?

You are near the dragon. Pay attention, and use the belt.

The belt, of course. Why else would the fortune teller have given it to me, if not for defeating the dragon. I should have seen it earlier.

Hero?

Yes?

Are you afraid?

Heroes are not supposed to be afraid. Still, my heart pounds against the inside of my chest like a hundred horses’ hooves… And you, Narrator, are you afraid?

I am the narrator.

So, you are afraid too. A terrible twist of fate is it not? The hero and the narrator, the two people who are never to feel fear are afraid. I realize now that this quest may have been doomed from its inception.

Heroes are also not supposed to be funny… or kind.

What are you saying?

Heroes are also supposed to be princes and knights. But, you are different. And you have made it so far already, we cannot give up now.

Do you speak truthfully? … Do you really believe that I have something they do not?

Yes, we may not be strong like the others, but at least we are working together.

We have come to an agreement...

I believe that you will defeat the dragon.

Then, I am not afraid.

The Hero held tight to the words he had heard and peaked around one last twist in the passage to catch his first glimpse of the beast. The Dragon’s skin was sickly green, and it’s eyes fogged over from many years spent in the depths of the cavern. Over a thousand years ago the Dragon had secreted itself away with his treasure deep into the earth in an effort to escape the light. The beast had become so evil that the sun’s rays burned it to its very being. In all that time, the evil inside had been nourished by the dark.

The beast raised its terrible head as the Hero’s entered his chamber. The Hero approached the Dragon without fear. It laughed at him, and his brazen folly. For, who dared to approach a dragon as old as he without armor or even a weapon? Who would treat his life so cheaply?

But, the Hero had a plan. His words rang true around the dank cavern, glittering with jewels and gold coins in a layer knee deep like snow, telling the dragon a story. His own story. The Dragon was captivated by the Hero’s words and did not see the Hero wind three times from around his waist the Belt of Truth.

Just as the Hero admitted that he had sought out the dragon for the Hero’s Sword, he sprang nimbly upon the Dragon’s back; swift because he was not burdened by armor or sword. He wrapped the Belt of Truth around the beast’s neck and gripped it tightly.

The dragon laughed again, not understanding the peril it was in. The Hero, discerning the true nature of the Belt, asked the Dragon if it would allow him to walk free with the sword if he pulled the Belt from its neck. The Dragon agreed, but in its evil heart it knew that it would burn the Hero the moment he leapt from its scaly back.

As this thought blackened the Dragon’s heart, the Belt shone with the light of the sun. The Dragon fell to the floor of its cavern, as lifeless and blackened as its own heart had been. The Hero rejoiced, and all the good forces rejoiced, for a great evil had been vanquished.

After searching for a time, the Hero found the Hero’s Sword hidden deep in the Dragon’s hoard next to a golden set of armor. The Hero abstained from the heavy gold plate, knowing that the lack of such finery had made his victory over the dragon possible. Instead, He sheathed his new weapon onto the Belt of Truth.

We did it!

Yes we did, dear Hero! Yes we did.

I can see a door, further into the Dragon’s Hoard. I would be willing to bet that is where the necklace is.

Shouldn’t we wait a moment? We don’t even know what the test is.

Which is exactly why we do not have to wait. We know nothing, so why hesitate? The princess has been alone for months, she must think no one is coming for her.

Of course, you’re right. Let’s go.

The Hero approached the door to the Test which would win him the necklace to save the princess. Upon the reaching the door, he opened it without ceremony and stepped inside. The room itself was paved in white marble and radiated with a light of its own. The door had been well covered, as the Dragon had despised the room that had interrupted its black asylum. The Belt of Truth shone, so that it and the Hero were alight with righteous clarity.

Without his knowledge, the Hero stood just outside a terrible enchantment with his feet upon the threshold. At the last moment, the Hero detected a shimmer in the air before him, and unsheathed his sword.

With a mighty slash, the Hero cut away the enchantments that impeded his progress. The magic fell to the floor in tattered silver shreds, now completely harmless.

In the Hero’s mind, all danger had been dealt with. Unbeknownst to him, one last test remained. This final enchantment tested the very heart of the Hero, and found him worthy of the pendant without the Hero ever realizing he had been tested.

The Hero took his prize, a red pendant on a fine silver chain, and thanked once again the wise old fortune teller for her help and wisdom. With his sword secured, and the necklace safe inside a secret pouch around his neck, the Hero departed from the hideous cavern and turned his eyes towards the surface and the sun again.

I was in the caves for a week, between looking for the fortune teller and finding the dragon.

I know, and I am so sorry.

The Hero walked all day with his prizes in hand, heading for the mountain upon which the evil wizard had placed his dark tower. Before the sun set again, he could see the mountain.

It is like being born anew, the sun once again touching my cheek. I have decided that your voice is like the wind that whispers across the land of the living, bringing with it wisdom and sweet tastes of other places.

How long have you been working on that one?

As long as I have been yearning to smell fresh air again.

Well, it was beautiful.

Thank you, Narrator.

Perhaps you should save such sweet words for your princess.

Perhaps. But, you should know, I do not know her.

Not at all?

No.

Then why come on this quest at all?

Her own father was not going to save her. She had no one. I could not stand by, unmoved, and let her fall to some cruel fate at the hands of an evil wizard. And, look at all I have gained since I started this whole adventure. I have learned the art of the sword, I have visited one of the greatest gnomish cities, I have defeated a dragon with nothing but the Belt… I have met you.

Why are you silent, Narrator?

I fear I have made a mistake.

A mistake? Surely not.

This story was supposed to be tragic. Instead, it has hammered and shaped a boy into…

Into?

A true hero.

… Your words mean more to me than a Dragon’s horde.

I only spoke the truth. You are becoming a hero, one that rescues princesses he doesn’t know… and eats rocks to keep from offending old gnomes.

Nonsense! You know I did not eat the rock.

Yeah, but you would’ve.

Perhaps, but, do not claim your own virtues as nothing. It was you who started all this, who led me to the fortune teller, who told me how to use the Belt. Your kind words that have encouraged my steps. I could not have done any of this without you.

Thank you, Hero. I do not know what to… I am glad that I have met you.

And I you, dear Narrator… Narrator?

Yes, Hero?

When I rescue the princess, will the story be over? Will you go back to whatever mysterious land you came from?

I don’t know.

The Hero walked many more days before he reached the base of the mountain. And, three more before he scaled the rocky cliffs. He met many servants of the evil Wizard along the way, but vanquished them all with the Hero’s Sword and his Belt of Truth. The necklace stayed in a pouch around his neck, close to his heart. When the Hero began to falter, and wondered why he faced so many hardships, he would pull out the red pendant with the fine silver chain and remember the young princess whose own father did not love her enough to rescue her; and, he would find the strength to continue.

After a long journey, with many trials and sufferings, the Hero arrived at the evil Wizard’s dark tower high above the plains of the castle.

After all this time, I was beginning to wonder if this place even existed.

Me too. Go inside, Hero, and save your princess.

Before I go, will you tell me your name?

No, Hero. I cannot. Soon, you will have your princess and you will forget that I have ever spoken to you.

Never. I will know your name, Narrator, before this story is over.

The Hero, with a great weight on his heart, stepped into the tower and began to climb the hundred stairs that would lead him to the top; where the evil Wizard awaited him with the princess.

After cresting the last step, the Hero saw his princess imprisoned in a birdcage at the far end of the room. She was once again a girl. The Hero greeted her quietly, and ran to her aid. Although she did not recognize him, the princess took his every word as truth; for the Belt was working in her heart. He clasped her hands gently, then thrust toward her the red pendant on the fine silver chain and urged her to put it around her neck. Just as the princess laid the precious necklace around her white neck, a terrible laugh split the room.

The princess had still gone nowhere. The Hero had made a deadly mistake. He had not freed the princess first from the cage that imprisoned her.

The evil Wizard had watched the Hero climb the tower. When the pendant had not worked, as the he had known, the evil Wizard had triumphed in his dark heart and appeared from the shadows to defeat the Hero.

The Hero turned to face the evil Wizard, the two of them commenced a battle that lasted through the night. It was the darkest night the mountain had ever seen, brought on by the evil Wizard’s magic, lit only by the light of the Hero. The Hero shone like a second sun, his Belt of Truth and Hero’s Sword giving him the strength to fight for many hours. But, it was his heart that enabled him to face the evil Wizard, around whom the very air was sour; for, the Hero’s heart was full with compassion. Nothing could stop a heart so virtuous.

Just as dawn was striking the sides of the dark tower, the Hero dealt the evil Wizard a killing blow. The evil Wizard fell, clutching at the terrible wound in his chest. Where his heart should have been was only a hairy black mass, a sickened heart long dead. Even while dying, the evil Wizard struggled for more diabolic sorcery to throw at the Hero, but was unable to speak.

Satisfied that the evil wizard was vanquished, the Hero turned his back on his foe. With a mighty swing, the Hero cleaved the gilded prison in two. The mangled pieces blackened then turned to dust at the princess’ feet. She graced the Hero with the most beautiful and jubilant of smiles before vanishing, the red pendant having taken her safely back to her home.

At this moment, the Hero, with his most noble quest completed, shone just as his Belt and Sword did; with an inner light to rival the sun itself. He was still the lowly son of a stable man and a noblewoman’s sixth lady in waiting; they still loved him more with each sunrise, and he them. But, He had become the Hero.

Narrator, can you believe this? I have completed my quest. I have saved her.

Yes, Hero, I can believe it.

And, even better still, I can-

The evil Wizard had pulled from inside his robes a dagger and had used its black blade to return his wounds in kind to the Hero. His revenge made, the evil Wizard fell down as his heart beat it's last triumphant beat at hurting another human.

The Hero’s light began to fade. He sank to the ground, succumbing even more by the moment to his terrible wound. But, he was content for he had saved the princess. Actually, the Hero was content in all but one thing. He began his last breaths with a single wish in his heart that he knew could never be fulfilled. The Hero bravely resigned himself to-

And that was when I broke the most important rule.

I fell to my knees onto the cold stone of the tower. It smelled like acrid herbs, charred cloth, and blood. The stench stung my nose and eyes. That was certainly why tears ran down my cheeks. Cold air and snow blew in from all sides. Black blood ran in rivulets down the stones from the body of a frail old man whose stiff body was nearly swallowed whole in a voluminous pitch robe. I shied away from the liquid, the very sight chilled my bones more than the snow on my cheeks.

Red blood flowed from an altogether different man. I rushed to his side.

This man wore no armor, and his body was still warm despite the black hilt of an evil blade embedded in his stomach. His face was deathly pale, and only made more so by messy brown hair. I pulled him into my arms, and could feel his chest moving. He breathed like a real man. Around his waist was a simple belt made of white braided metal. On the ground beside his right hand was a simple sword, its blade also made from white steel.

“Deina!” I said, shouting above the wind and shaking my head. “My name is Deina.”

“Deina.” The voice may have once been strong, but was now reduced to a whisper.

The air died around us as another wicked spell ran its course. His mouth had moved as he had spoken, just like a real man. His eyes opened, and the edges crinkled in a smile. They were the most lively green eyes I had ever seen. Even the specks of brown in them seemed alight with the smile.

“Your name is Deina?” He asked in a daze.

“Yes, yes it is.” I gripped him tighter.

“I nev-never knew anything could be so sweet.” He shook his head then allowed it drop again into my arms. “I told you… I told you I would know your name before the story was over.”

His eyes had closed again, but his mouth was still turned up in a rather self-satisfied grin. I loved every second that he moved and breathed, loved his smile, proving that he was in fact real. That I had, in fact, not broken the highest rule for an imaginary man, the simple hero of a simple book.

“I remember.” I said. “ And your name?”

“Arete.” He answered.

“Arete.” I repeated quietly.

“I am sure that I hallucinate; but thank you, Deina, for coming to tell me your name… and for coming to say goodbye.” He sighed. “I can go on to the next life completely content.”

“Oh, no you won’t.” I said.

There was a fire in my chest. Arete was a living breathing person, not a placeholder in a book. He was more than a hero in a simple fairy tale, he had a name. He had fought and won a quest for a princess he hadn’t even known. I strapped the Hero’s Sword to Arete’s belt.

“We’ve only just met. You can’t leave, not now, get up.”

“Get up?” He asked, his eyes opening incredulously. “My lifeblood stains the stones beneath me, and you want me to get up?”

“I came to tell you my name, Arete, not to say goodbye.”

“Of course you didn’t.” He sighed, but gripped my hand harder.

“We have to get out of here, I’ll help you.”

Arete nodded. “Where are we going?”

“Home.” I answered simply.

I pulled his arm around my shoulders and prepared to heave both of us to our feet. Already my fingers and toes were going numb, my teeth chattered and I couldn’t smell anymore. Still my heart was seized by fear and my resolve wavered; after what I had done, maybe it would be better to stay inside the book after all. Arete gasped at my side as I pulled us to our feet. The decision was made for me… I would do anything to help him.

“Everything is going to be fine. But, when we pass through that gate I am going to be in so much trouble.”