Fairy Tale Nook
Welcome to the:
"As both writer and illustrator, Bardow (The Whispers of the Heather) fills this collection with the wonder and urgency of classic fairy tales while highlighting ingenuity and courage. These strong heroines and charming heroes face a host of conflicts that combine magical elements with problem-solving quests, and parents who enjoy the nostalgic quality of fairy tales—but don’t want to perpetuate stereotypes like the damsel in distress—will appreciate Bardow’s earnest approach. Digital illustrations recreate haunting forest scenes amid high castle walls, and Bardow’s focus on individual growth as much as spellbinding magic creates a fairy tale collection that celebrates strong characters who find a way to save themselves."
BookLife Review
Here, every first of the month, I will be posting a new story from my forthcoming book:
The Tales Of The Old Hut
Scroll down to see and read the latest story from
The Fairy Tale Nook
They say there is a mystic wood somewhere,
Where magic and enchantment fill the air.
The twilight reins under the ancient oaks.
Dark lichens cover knotted bark and rocks.
The silence is complete, no sound is heard:
The murmur of a spring, the chirping of a bird.
Green moss is thick and muffles every stride.
So, please, be watchful: it will try to hide,
A path that leads to an abandoned hut.
If you step in, the olden walls will start,
Tell fairy tales. Not one, not two, but more,
Charmed stories that were never heard before.
But would you dare to come to this bewitching place?
And if you would, a dreamlike realm awaits!
Olwen Bardow
This month's story:
(Stories to be continued...)
The Tale of The Feud and the Dream
Once upon a time, there lived a baron. For several generations, his family was engaged in a deadly feud. The war of “the Griffin” and “the Wolf”, as it was called, for the baron’s coat of arms carried the Griffin, while the Wolf was baring its teeth on the crest of his foe. Many battles were fought, much blood was shed. The two adversaries were tearing each other to pieces, but neither could get the upper hand.
That was until “the Griffin” started to lose battles. The baron’s opponent became more and more cunning, seemingly anticipating every move of the baron. It was as if he was reading the baron’s very thoughts about his war strategy.
“I am being slowly defeated,” thought the baron. “How disappointed my ancestors, who waged the war successfully and never gave in to the enemy, would have been if they knew of my misfortunes. If another battle is lost, I won’t be able to recover my forces.”
Therefore, the baron hurried along the gallery of the portraits of the Griffin barons of old, without raising his head, afraid to see the silent reproach in their eyes. Once, however, when his reconnaissance detachment was ambushed and destroyed, he approached the oldest darkened portrait of his great-great-great-grandfather.
It was he who built and fortified the castle, the citadel of the Griffin, and began the war with the aggressive Wolf.
“You must be disappointed that your side is losing and the Griffin stronghold could soon fall because your descendant turned out to be a weakling,” said the baron. “It is unimaginably hard for me too!”
The baron raised his head and looked at the portrait. It seemed to him that the eyes on the canvas had come to life for a brief moment, and looked back at him not with contempt, but with warmth and understanding, before fading again.
From that time, the baron began to have the same dream every night. He stood outside the walls of his castle, on a plain covered with freshly fallen snow, while the full moon shone brightly in the night sky. The baron looked at the moon and then lowered his gaze to the snowy expanse spreading out in front of him and saw a chain of prints that had not been there a moment before leading away from the castle towards a quiet hollow nearby.
The dream was so vivid that the baron decided to check it out on the spot. There was only one day left before the decisive battle with the enemy. The baron waited until nightfall, then discreetly slipped out of the castle through a secret passage. Everything was as in his dream. The moon was shining in the sky. A light snow had fallen and covered the plain in front of the castle. The baron looked at the moon, then at the ground and saw a chain of prints in the snow that led from the place where he stood right to the quiet hollow. These were strange prints, they did not belong to either an animal or a human, as if a tree branch had been dragged through the snow.
He reached the quiet hollow and saw a light sparkling in the distance. Finally, the baron came to a hut, crudely made of rough stones. He was surprised, for he did not remember that any dwelling existed in the hollow. The light was coming through the loosely closed shutter of a small window. Also, a soft song began to flow out of the hut. The baron peeked in the window and saw a young woman sitting near a cradle and singing a lullabyto her child. The burning fireplace softly illuminated the room, and on the walls danced intertwining shadows. Listening to the song, the baron involuntarily shuddered.
“Oh, my dear child, go to sleep,
All your sweet dreams I’ll tightly keep,
You won’t be affected by worries and hassle
Like our baron who lives in the castle.
He got a traitor around in his ranks.
Because of this snake, good fortune he lacks.
If he won’t find the spy, he’ll perish in sorrow,
And certainly, lose his combat tomorrow,”
sang the woman.
The baron took hold of the door handle and was about to enter the hut when he heard a menacing roar behind him. He turned around and barely had time to draw his sword when a huge, ferocious wolf attacked him. It looked exactly like the beast that adorned the coat of arms of the baron’s opponent. A terrible battle began. The wolf’s claws were sharper than daggers, and his teeth were like sword blades. His eyes burned with a raging fire.
The end would have come for the baron, but his trusty sword helped its master. It pierced the wolf through and through. The wolf snapped its teeth one last time and died, pouring dark blood onto the snow. The door of the hut opened, and the young woman stepped onto its threshold. Her skin was white, as if touched by the frost of winter, her eyes shone like stars in the night sky, and her hair glowed like the moonlight. She did not look human at all, and the baron guessed that she belonged to the Fay People.
“You protected the wife and child of the Master of the Hollow during his absence,” said the young woman. “He will never forget this service. You’ll find the one who betrayed you, oh baron. The weapon of the traitor will turn to ashes when it touches the blade of your sword. Farewell!”
At that very moment a blizzard arose, hiding everything from the baron: the mysterious hut, the woman standing on its threshold, the wolf’s corpse in the snow, and the hollow itself.
The baron closed his eyes for a moment, blinded by the flying snow, and when he opened them again, he found himself in his room in the castle.
“Did I really see all this in a dream?” thought the baron in amazement, but then he saw his clothes torn in the fight with the wolf. His breastplate, as he was wearing some protective armor, was bent and bore scratches from the blow of a paw with sharp claws. The baron grabbed his sword. There were no traces of wolf’s blood on the blade, but red sparks shone in the steel of the faithful weapon as if they were soldered there.
The baron jumped up and hurried into the castle courtyard, called his squad, and ordered the fires to be lit.
The baron told his men to prepare for battle. He then he ordered everyone to swear an oath of allegiance to him once again, for the coming combat would be a decisive one and he needed truly loyal people by his side. He drew his sword and said that each warrior under his command should touch its blade with the blade of their own weapon.
All his men did so willingly. Their blades rang out loudly, striking their leader’s blade, while everyone repeated the words of the oath. However, only one blade did not ring out loudly but shattered into pieces. It was the blade of the one warrior the baron would never have suspected, the one who was supposed to command the reserve ambush regiment.
Thus, the baron found and executed the traitor and then triumphed as the winner of the battle in which he slew his opponent, the one who wore the ferocious wolf on his coat of arms. The feud was over.
“The Griffin tore the Wolf’s throat and remained the winner. Who would have thought!” the neighbors said in the aftermath, “we were sure that the Wolf would bite the Griffin in half, but look how it all turned out!”
Since then, the baron was not threatened by any betrayal. As soon as a person swearing allegiance to him was taking the oath and touching the baron’s sword with his blade, his secret intentions became clear as day. It was no longer possible to deceive the baron.
And he was also grateful to his ancestor. He was sure that the matter could not have been resolved without his help. He addressed his great-great-great-grandfather in the portrait gallery many times, but the eyes of the portrait always remained dim. Probably, the founder of the castle decided that the real danger that threatened his family line had passed, and the present baron no longer needed his assistance to deal with everyday life from now on.
