The Spring Queen  (extract)

 

 

 

A long time ago, in the days before the world grew warm, there was a young girl called Sophie who lived with her mother and her father in a tiny wooden cottage on the edge of a big, dark frozen forest. The nearest village was far, far away and could only be reached by a narrow, winding track that climbed and fell over the grey mountains that stood proudly guarding the valley.

 

In those long-forgotten days, the cold east wind blew throughout the year and there was deep, deep snow as far as the eye could see. The trees in the forest were wrapped in blankets of white and the only firewood was the odd twig and broken branch lying on the ground.

 

Sophie and her parents huddled around the small fire that flickered in the grate and Sophie longed for the cold, dark days to end and dreamed of a time when the birds would sing and the bright colours of flowers in the garden would announce the return of Spring.

 

 

 

One freezing night, when the frost lay thick on the windowpanes and Sophie yet again was kept awake by the whispering, whistling of the wind and the chattering of her teeth, she began to pray,

 

“Please, oh please, may I see the Queen of the Spring and feel the warmth of her sunshine.”

 

She tried to warm herself with thoughts of the sun sweeping the snow clouds away and sunbeams dancing on the mountain cliffs and eventually fell asleep and sank into the world of dream.

 

 

As the dark hours stretched into the night and the eaves creaked and groaned in the wind, a little man softly tiptoed from the shadows that lurked in the corner of Sophie’s bedroom. He wore brown leather trousers which were tucked into the tops of thick red stockings, a white shirt and a warm jacket which was as black as the darkest caves in the forest from where he came.

 

On his slightly pointed head sat a red woolen cap that sometimes hung down his back and sometimes stood up as though it was watching out for trouble but, most important of all, there peered, from below his mop of brown and rather spiky hair, a gentle smile and eyes that twinkled in the moonbeams.

 

He looked strange, as strange as she had imagined a dwarf - because that was what he was - would look, when she had listened, half asleep, as her mother read to her about the magical land of the Spring Queen.

 

She stared at him from under a fold of the bedclothes and hugged the pillow tightly, as he whispered,

 

“Dear little Sophie, don’t be afraid, I shall not hurt you. The Spring Queen has sent me to see you because you have been so good and so patient. She would like you to visit her and to see the kingdom of the Spring!”

 

He held out his gnarled hands and Sophie slowly stopped trembling. She saw the warm smile on his face and felt a glow of happiness start to spread inside her. The dwarf turned and, with a wink in his eye, beckoned for her to follow.

 

Quickly Sophie jumped from her bed, pulled her clothes on and - without a thought of her parents sleeping nearby - ran down the creaking stairs, through the old oak door and out into the freezing night.