The Princess and the Lindworm - Short Story by Rachel Dill

 

The Princess and the Lindworm

Short Story

by Rachel Dill

Once upon a time, there was a Princess who was required to marry.

The Princess had often dreamed of marrying for love, but she had known those stories were only fairy tales for many years. Her brother had married some years before; not for love but with tolerance, and he had been allowed to choose his favourite from the candidates for his hand. The Princess would get no such fortune, because she was a princess and the second-born, and so was required to marry only for money and power and prestige.

And so the whole kingdom bloomed with roses, because that was the Princess's name and it would show how precious she was to the people. Beautiful paintings were made of her to show potential suitors why they might want her. A grand festival was prepared, days to be spent feasting and celebrating and competing until the Queen decided which prince or lord or knight was the best choice for the kingdom.

The Princess danced when she was asked to and smiled when she was looked at and spoke when she was spoken to, but her suitors mostly courted the Queen as the Princess sat in her place at the table and waited for her future to be decided.

One suitor was a Knight who had won many tournaments and wore silver armour that gleamed in the sunlight, and the Princess's head ached from the glare of it. He had brought a gift of a deer he had hunted for the feast, a set of lovely rings set with glittering gemstones for a wedding present, and he offered the Princess a stable of horses and acres of land to ride them on, a strong lineage of knights, and all the servants she could ever need. He never looked at the Princess, so she could not see if there was kindness in his eyes, but she thought she could make herself happy enough with so many horses for company, and maybe the Knight would allow her to learn about battle strategies and the history of war.

One suitor was a Lord who had a great deal of money and wore a perfectly tailored blue suit, and the Princess could see that he was sweating in it under the hot sun. He had brought a gift of a great stag he and his dogs had hunted for the feast, an enormous necklace of gold links as a wedding present, and he offered the Princess a lovely manor and enough money to buy herself anything she could ever desire. His gaze never left the Queen, so the Princess could not see if there was kindness in his eyes, but she thought she could make herself happy enough if she had enough gold to buy supplies to try whatever she wanted to try and books to learn whatever she wanted to learn and food that would be gentle enough on her stomach for her to keep it down.

One suitor was a Prince from a fine kingdom, and he wore a golden crown encrusted with jewels that made the Princess's neck ache when she imagined wearing its match. He had brought a gift of an enormous board that his men had hunted for the feast, a golden crown almost as opulent as his own as a wedding present, and he offered the Princess a grand castle filled with beautiful decorations, and many servants to raise their children and ensure she never needed to work again. He spoke grandly across the crowd and the Princess could not look at his eyes for long enough to tell if there was kindness in them, but she thought she could make herself happy enough with so many pretty things to look at and people to help her on days when her body ached too badly to get out of bed.

The Queen considered each suitor as they came and looked thoughtful and considering, and the pile of gifts behind her grew higher and higher. The Princess waited and did not touch her food, as her stomach was heavy and twisted with anticipation.

After every suitor had presented themselves, the Queen thought and spoke to her advisers, and the Princess waited in silence.

A great shadow passed over the sun. The party-goers looked up. A servant let out a frightened cry and dropped her tray to the ground with a clatter.

A Lindworm landed amongst the suitors, its black scales catching the light and shimmering as though streaked with rainbows.

"I apologize for my tardiness," it said to the crowd, its voice deep and gravelly and musical. "It is a long way to the dragon realms, and my invitation almost arrived too late."

Everyone was stunned into silence. Invitations for these types of events were always sent to the dragons, but they only attended in stories. Dragons had better things to do than watch human political affairs.

"No apology is needed," said the Queen at last. "We are honoured to have you join us for the celebrations. They will begin soon, as all of the suitors have presented themselves."

The Lindworm did not look at the Queen. It looked only at the Princess, its eyes glittering like they were made of emeralds. "They have not. I have come to present myself for the Princess's hand."

The Queen paled, and for a moment the Princess thought her mother would collapse into her chair.

"Of course," the Queen managed at last. "However, I fear you will be disappointed, as I do not know if we have enough meat here to satisfy your appetite."

"How fortunate then," said the Lindworm with a smile, "that you have so many guests. If there were half as many, there would be twice as much meat."

Many suitors and their entourages then remembered prior engagements, and they bowed humbly to the Queen and removed themselves from both the competition and the festivities, leaving all their gifts behind.

"How fortunate indeed," the Queen agreed, "but I fear there are strict traditions that must be followed, and you do not appear to have brought a gift."

"How fortunate then," said the Lindworm with a smile, "that so many of your remaining guests have such wealth and remember the old traditions of giving gifts to dragons that grace their presence. Gifts which I could then pass on to the Princess for her wedding."

The remaining suitors clamoured agreement and hurriedly passed their finest jewelry to their servants to give to the Lindworm.

"How fortunate indeed," the Queen said faintly. "Well then, Lindworm, what do you have to offer for the Princess's hand?"

"I have much to offer," said the Lindworm with a smile. "I have scales that can be broken by only the strongest magical swords, teeth that can slice through all but the finest magical armor, and an enormous cave that cannot be found by any but the most gifted of trackers, where the Princess will be able to live safely and comfortably for all of her days."

The Queen cleared her throat. "A fine offer indeed." She whispered quickly to her advisers and then said, "Now that all of the suitors have presented themselves, it is time for me to announce my decision. The Princess shall marry the Lindworm, unless there are any among the suitors who wish to challenge the Lindworm for this honour."

The Princess could hear the hope in the Queen's voice, the hope that someone else would be brave enough to offend the Lindworm, for dragons were known to not care about the kingdoms and families their spouses had come from. But the suitors bowed their heads and stayed still and silent and the Lindworm smiled wider.

"Well then, Princess Rose," it said, "we shall be wed at once, so that we may return to my cave by nightfall."

And so they were, with rather less raucous celebration than the Princess remembered from her brother's wedding.

But while they waited for the bishop to ready the vows, the Princess stood from her chair and moved to the side of the Lindworm, who was looking over all the fine wedding presents the two of them were about to receive.

"I am honored that you wish to marry me," the Princess said, and the Lindworm looked at her with those bright green eyes and smiled with those bright white teeth.

"I hope you will be pleased as well as honoured," it replied.

The Princess hoped so as well, but did not say so. "I feel I should warn you about some things," she said. "Things my mother may not have included in the messages to the suitors that I fear may disappoint you."

The Lindworm sat back on its coils and waited, not even blinking its sparkling eyes.

"I am very fragile," the Princess began. "My bones begin to ache if I walk too much, and some days I can hardly rise from my bed for the pain. The doctors have given up on trying to cure me of it."

"How fortunate then," the Lindworm said, and its voice and smile were much gentler than they had been for the Queen, "that I am strong enough to carry you wherever you wish to go, and have no wings that will jostle you with every movement."

The Princess's heart swelled with hope and relief. "My stomach is fragile as well," she said. "I can hardly eat a bite if the doctors do not make me potions to settle it down."

"How fortunate then," said the Lindworm, "that I live beside a magical stream that can sustain you with a drink, and you will never need to choke down food if you do not wish it."

"How fortunate indeed," the Princess agreed, her eyes beginning to well with tears.

"Were there any other worries?" the Lindworm asked.

"Only that I fear that some of these fine gifts may be made of false gold and fake jewels, and they will disappoint you."

"How fortunate then," the Lindworm said unerringly, "that you are the only jewel I truly desire."

The Princess threw her arms around the Lindworm's neck and did not let go all through their vows, even as she put lovely golden chains around its throat and balanced a crown over its long sharp horns.

And then she climbed onto the Lindworm's back as servants wrapped the wedding presents into an enormous blanket for the Lindworm to carry.

"It is custom," the Queen said, "for the wedding couple to gift their families with a small share of the presents, to ease the pain of watching one's child grow up."

"That is true," the Lindworm agreed, and it looked over the pile of treasure. It reached in with one clawed foot and plucked a single small diamond out of a necklace. It placed the jewel at the Queen's feet. "If I have judged you correctly, that will be more than enough compensation for your grief."

And then the Lindworm lifted the rest of the treasure and rose into the sky as smoothly as promised, the Princess barely having to balance herself against the smooth warm scales, and they left the kingdom and the suitors and the doctors and the Queen far, far beneath them. And the Princess lived happier ever after than she had known it possible to be.

Rachel Dill is 29 years old and has lived in Idaho, more or less against her will, for her entire life. She has been telling stories for as long as she’s known how to talk. She is usually found surrounded by crafting supplies and piles of journals and to-read books