Fiddleeebod

The Wish King’s daughter watched her father cross the Great Hall to select a wish from the wish bowl. Eyes narrowed, she studied his kind face. He reached into the bowl and plucked up a single scrap. He read the scrap and turned to the assembled villagers.

‘Damon, the harp maker,’ announced the Wish King.

‘Here! Here, Your Honor, Sire, Sir!’ piped up a little fellow, leaping forward, tripping, scrambling, grinning in his haste to crawl before the Wish King.

‘What is your wish, harp maker?’ asked the Wish King.

‘I would gaze on The Great Tree of The Snow Mound in Dazzle Pool and secure happiness everlasting,’ said the harp maker.

‘Ah, you have thought this through most thoroughly well, harp maker,’ said the Wish King. ‘Amelina, take this harp maker where he would go.’

The eyes of the Wish King’s daughter widened. Her name was Amelina. She had not the slightest idea where The Great Tree of The Snow Mound in Dazzle Pool could possibly be. However, the last thing in the world she would ever do was admit her ignorance.

‘Follow me, harp maker,’ she said.

When the pair had passed over the drawbridge, Amelina said, ‘You have a name, I suppose.’

‘Yes,’ said the harp maker.

‘Good. Keep it to yourself,’ said Amelina.

It took weeks for them to reach the Mountain of Ever Snow. Amelina had cleverly decided that a Snow Mound might likely be found on Ever Snow Mountain. They were fed and pampered all along the way. After all, Amelina was the Wish King’s daughter. She never asked anybody anything, but led on as if she knew exactly what she was doing. Up the snow slopes they went, through forests, by pools, along mounds. But not once did a great tree, a mound, and a pool gather together in harmony.

‘Are we almost there?’ asked the harp maker. ‘You know. I don’t really have to see it. Let’s go back.’

Amelina was about to shrug and say ‘Suit yourself’ when the harp maker fell to his knees and shouted, ‘Look!’

There through a row of spider leg trees was a mound of snow in the center of a round pool of dazzle. On the mound a single great pine tree reached high.

The harp maker danced around shouting, ‘Happy! Happy! Happy!’

Amelina’s face displayed a look of serenity. She thought, After all, I am the Wish King’s daughter.

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General, Stories by Steve