Brenda Baker

Once upon a time, in a town not far from this one, there lived a young maiden with dark brown hair and eyes prone to sorrow. The young maiden was named after her mother, Ella, whom she missed with all her heart. Mrs. Whiterling passed twelve years ago when Ella was only seven.

When his wife died of fever, Mr. Whiterling married a widow with two daughters of her own, aged ten and twelve. Mr. Whiterling reasoned it would be good for Ella to have two sisters and a woman to take her mother’s place. Mr. Whiterling knew nothing about raising a daughter, and so he trusted his decision as wise and best for everyone.

The new Mrs. Whiterling embraced the life of a trader’s wife and the comforts such a life could afford. While Mr. Whiterling travelled to the distant towns of Wrunwicks, Mrs. Whiterling quickly learned how to make use of her stepdaughter, citing the need for Ella to learn the skills of a wife.

“Better to start too young than too old, ” Mrs. Whiterling had once said to her new husband.

Trusting his wife’s experience in such matters, Mr. Whiterling had simply nodded in agreement and smiled proudly as he watched his daughter stir the evening’s pottage. His wife knew best how to raise their daughters.

Twelve years later, Ella had learned to cook the finest pottage and all her family’s favourite foods. So much so that Mrs. Whiterling let the undercook go, offering his services to their lord, who was kind and thus happy to oblige his dear friends.

Over the years, Ella had learned many other skills as well. Before starting her chores, Ella rose every morning with the first bell to clear the ashes from each fireplace. And every morning, she was rewarded by a smile from Mabel, the tottering head servant. Mabel affectionately nicknamed Mrs. Whiterling’s youngest daughter Cinderella. Mrs. Whiterling and Cinderella’s stepsisters liked the nickname straight away, though with more scorn than affection, truth be known. Mrs. Whiterling and her daughters liked to save the virtues for times of need. A fact that caused great pain for their Divine Mother, who loved all Wrunwickers.

But Cinderella had long accepted the shortcomings of her stepmother and stepsisters. She liked her nickname despite their scorn. She liked Mabel too and learned all that she knew from the kind-hearted woman. Cinderella pretended to be happy with the endless chores for her father, the person she loved most apart from her mother. So she put on her smile every morning with her dress.

Cinderella was sweeping the kitchen floor one morning when a loud knock sounded at the door. She ran to open the door, where a young man waited with a note in his hand from Lord Agmire. Cinderella thanked the messenger and hurried to the great hall. The note was addressed to her parents.

Mrs. Whiterling lay down her knife when Cinderella entered the hall. “I’m not to be disturbed during breakfast. Ye know this, Cinderella.”

“My apologies, Mother, but the note be addressed to ye and Father. It bears the crest of Lord Agmire.” Cinderella passed her stepmother the note and waited.

Mrs. Whiterling tore open the note and read with ever-widening eyes. “Lord Agmire is having a ball for his son. Our young lord seeks a bride-to-be, and Lord Agmire invites us to attend.” She smiled at her two oldest daughters. “Ye’ll need new gowns made of the finest silk. It won’t do to arrive in rags at the grand ball. The future lady of Mythbridge must dress the part.”

“Am I to attend as well?” asked Cinderella. She had seen their dashing young lord on a few occasions and knew him to be kind and juste.

Upon hearing Cinderella’s question, the two stepsisters laughed so hard they nearly wept. Mrs. Whiterling stared at Cinderella in what looked suspiciously close to shock. The woman’s face was stone white. Cinderella wondered if her stepmother had suddenly grown ill.

“I can’t possibly take ye, Cinderella,” said Mrs. Whiterling. “I shudder to think what Lord Agmire might think if I arrived at the ball with ye dressed in rags and smelling like the day’s cinder. He might think me mad, or worse still, he might throw us out onto the street. Have ye stopped to think what that might do to your poor father? His health isn’t what it used to be.”

Cinderella wanted to weep upon hearing her stepmother’s words, but she put on her bravest face. “Please forgive my foolish lips, Mother. I too want what be best for our family. “

Later that day, Cinderella snuck out to visit her mother’s tree. She still remembered the day her father planted it as though it were yesterday. Today, Cinderella asked her mother for strength as she always did. But today, she also asked her mother for guidance. A bright yellow flower fell from the tree and landed in Cinderella’s hand. Cinderella beheld the flower in her hand and tried to understand its meaning. She knew the flower was from her mother and held it close until she could find a place to hide it from her stepmother and stepsisters.

Cinderella received a flower during each visit after that. On the day of the grand ball, Cinderella visited her mother once more and received yet another flower. She hid the flower inside the chest beneath her bed. She now had twelve flowers.

After Cinderella’s stepmother and stepsisters left for the ball, she snuck out to the stables to gaze up at the stars undisturbed. A fairy suddenly appeared with four twigs in her hand. Cinderella stared in surprise and stepped back from the window, for she had never seen a fairy before. The fairy flew in and stopped midair.

“I was your mother’s friend for many years, Cinderella. I watched her grow from childhood to motherhood,” said the tiny fairy. “Before her passing, your mother asked that I watch over ye but to never interfere unless my help was needed. Your mother then said to watch the flowers. When the flowers fell I would know it was her by their number. A flower a day for each year of her passing. I heard of the ball and know that your stepmother has forbidden ye to go. I believe your mother has a different wish for ye.” The fairy then flew over and gave Cinderella two of the twigs.

Cinderella looked at the twigs in her hand. “What am I to do with these? Should I keep them?”

“The twigs belonged to your mother’s tree. Place one in each shoe,” said the fairy.

Cinderella did as the fairy said and stuck the twigs upright inside her shoes. She looked to the fairy once more and waited.

“The twigs know your mother’s wish for ye. I’ve given each twig the power to fulfill that wish,” said the fairy with a bright smile.

No sooner had the fairy finished speaking when Cinderella found herself surrounded by thin swirls of yellow light. Within moments, her tattered dress transformed into a yellow gown of velvet and silk. Twas a gown like none she had ever worn. The sleeves nearly touched the ground in back. And the entire gown was trimmed with delicate blue flowers stitched onto the snow-white silk. A rope of thick silver encircled her waist and stopped mere inches above her feet. The twigs in her shoes then stretched around her ankles and transformed into a pair of silk slippers to match her gown. The slippers twinkled in the dark.

“Ye look like a princess,” said the fairy, admiring Cinderella. “Each slipper reflects the hope that shines in your heart. They can never be destroyed while hope remains.” The fairy flew over and gave Cinderella the second last twig with two long buds near the tip. “I almost forgot. We can’t have ye going to the ball with your hair like that. Place the twig behind your ear.”

Cinderella did as she was told. The twig began to glow a soft yellow and jumped to the back of Cinderella’s head. She felt the twig twisting itself around her hair. When Cinderella reached back, she discovered the twig had turned to silk.

The fairy smiled once more. “Ye’ll need a ride to the manor,” said she and whistled softly.

In through the door came a pardela with the gentlest of green eyes. A saddle covered in blue flowers peeked out from a magnificent set of wings. “I will be your ride to the grand ball,” said he without introduction. “Fear not, Cinderella. I will get ye home before your stepmother be any the wiser.”

Cinderella stared in surprise and stepped back, for she had never seen a pardela before. What strange and wondrous adventure was this? “Perhaps tis a dream,” she thought and shook her head.

“Goodness me,” said the fairy. “I’m getting more forgetful than a babbling brook.” She flew over and placed the last twig on the pardela’s saddle.

Within moments, thin swirls of yellow light surrounded the pardela. Moments later still, the pardela had transformed into a black horse with a pale yellow mane and tail.

“Beware the last bell,” said the fairy. “Ye’ll need to leave before the first chimes. Your belt will begin to swing when the last bell draws near.”

Cinderella looked down at her belt, then looked back at the fairy. “How will it know?”

“Your mother wills it so. Do ye trust your mother, Cinderella of Mythbridge?” asked the fairy.

When Cinderella nodded, the horse turned to her. “Time to leave while the night be still young,” said he with hurried breath.

Cinderella climbed onto the saddle and gripped the reigns. The flowers that covered the seat were softer than her bed. The horse said farewell to the still-smiling fairy and made his way to the manor at fast trot.

Arrived at the manor, Cinderella entered the great hall with its lofty ceilings and even loftier guests. She knew nothing of fine manners or fine clothes and hoped she would not ruin her fine gown. Now at the ball, Cinderella knew not what to do next. She stood admiring the dancers when their dashing young lord approached. He introduced himself as Frerik, the lord’s son, and asked Cinderella to dance.

“All are familiar with your name and kindness, my lord,” said Cinderella and bowed. She neglected to introduce herself, but Lord Frerik seemed not to notice her poor manners.

Lord Frerik asked Cinderella to dance many times throughout the night and ignored the other maidens hoping to gain his favour. Cinderella’s stepsisters failed to recognize the beautiful maiden in her yellow gown and silk-woven hair. Envy had stolen their sight. As for Mrs. Whiterling? She rarely saw past her own nose, suffering as it were from nosticulus, and tonight was no exception.

Cinderella was dancing once more with the dashing young lord when her belt began to sway. Soon as they finished dancing, Cinderella thanked Lord Frerik for his generous hospitality and bid him a very good night. Before Lord Frerik could speak even a word, Cinderella had already disappeared among the guests. Lord Frerik spotted Cinderella hurrying out the door and squeezed his way through the crowd. But when he made his way to the courtyard, Cinderella was gone. All that remained was a tiny slipper.

Unknown to Lord Frerik, Cinderella was already halfway home. When she reached the stables built so long ago by her great-grandfather, the fairy was still there. She commended Cinderella on her swift return, then frowned in dismay.

“It seems ye lost a slipper in your haste. The slippers are yours to keep, but one shall have to suffice. For what be done cannot be undone.”

And for the first time, Cinderella noticed her bare foot. She was about to apologize when thin swirls of yellow light surrounded her. Within three blinks of an eye, Cinderella was back in her tattered dress. The twig from her hair lay on the ground next to the pardela’s, who had also transformed back to his original form. Cinderella still wore the silk slipper while her left foot remained bare. She dismounted, collected both twigs and handed them to the fairy.

The fairy thanked Cinderella and said the twigs would be buried next to her mother’s tree from whence they came. The fairy and pardela then took their leave. Cinderella hid the slipper beneath her dress and snuck back to her room just as the last bell began to chime.

The next day, the lord’s steward posted a notice in search of the beautiful maiden with dark brown hair, the finest yellow gown and lost slipper of yellow and blue. Word of the notice quickly spread throughout the town. People spoke of the maiden who had cast a spell upon the young lord. The people feared for their young lord’s enchanted heart. Perhaps another fair maiden could break the spell.

So every maiden in Mythbridge searched for her yellow and blue slippers, should one have gone missing – for hope was a curious thing with a mind of its own. And every maiden in Mythbridge had her mind fixed on becoming the next lady of Mythbridge.

Two days after the notice was posted, Cinderella’s oldest stepsister squealed with the utmost delight. She waved a yellow and blue slipper for all to see. The matching slipper was neither high nor low. It was in fact nowhere to be found.

The stepsister changed into one of her finest yellow gowns and left for the manor at full gallop. She returned some time later, flung her slipper into the fire and watched it burn. She told her mother the trip had been a fruitless use of her time.

“Lord Frerik will surely perish from a broken heart. No maiden could ever wear such a silly slipper. Yet Lord Frerik holds it like a precious jewel,” said the stepdaughter next. “It had no opening and was crumpled like an old shoe.”

Cinderella smiled to herself. The slipper did not belong to her stepsister with a heart born too hard to break. Cinderella had three more days to wait until market day. Until then, she would hold her tongue. But not a day more.

On market day, Cinderella waited until her stepmother and stepsisters left, cleaned her face and pulled down her hood far as she could. She then rode to the manor, careful to avoid the main streets as she made her way to the outskirts of town.

Lord Frerik sat in the great hall with his parents. In his hand, the yellow and blue slipper waited for its owner. Cinderella introduced herself and explained to the dashing young lord about her lost slipper. She apologized for leaving the ball so abruptly, citing the need to be home before the last bell. Lord Agmire nodded his approval of her sound wisdom.

The young lord gave Cinderella her slipper. “Many have mistaken the slipper for theirs and mistook me for blind. But my eyes tell me it belongs to ye.”

The slipper unfurled in Cinderella’s hand. She removed the other slipper from her pouch and replaced her grimy shoes with the slippers. She looked down at her twinkling feet. The slippers were a gift from her mother, and she would treasure them always.

“Never have I laid eyes on a maiden so fair as ye,” said Lord Frerik. “When I saw ye at the ball, I knew we were meant to wed. If it pleases ye, Cinderella, we will marry on the day of your twenty-fifth birthday.”

Cinderella smiled at the dashing young lord. “Nothing would please me more, for I have loved ye from the moment I first saw ye.”

With that, Lord Agmire and Lady Kitura invited their future daughter to stay for breakfast. Cinderella gladly accepted their gracious invitation.

When Cinderella shared the news with her family, Mrs. Whiterling hugged her stepdaughter and ordered their cook to prepare a special feast in celebration. And from that day forward, Mrs. Whiterling treated her stepdaughter with love and affection. After all, Cinderella was the next lady of Mythbridge, the daughter she had always wanted.

As for Cinderella, she learned to forgive her family, turned to face the sun and married her dashing young lord. On her feet, Cinderella wore the slippers of yellow and blue. She continued to visit her mother’s tree throughout the years. But not a single flower fell from its branches, for Cinderella was happy at last. And her mother’s wish was at last fulfilled.

***

Author’s Note: The story of Cinderella is referenced in Flowers and Ash on a few separate occasions. This is the story known to Wrunwickers. In this version, which was adapted for the people of Wrunwicks, the author includes a pardela. Pardelas resemble black panthers, but pardelas are taller and bigger with a large set of wings. The legendary animal was well known to the people of Wrunwicks. And in Wrunwicks, no one could marry before their twenty-fifth birthday. So Lord Frerik’s proposal was in accordance with the king’s law.