The Mailman and the Princess Part 1

Well, my dear readers, I decided to share a fairytale I wrote a few years back. Just to be clear, this is not my usual writing style or quality, but it is rather enjoyable...

Also, a shortened version of this tale won second place in Patrick Henry College's 1st Division Short Story Competition, A Call to Pens, in 2012.

Enjoy!

The Mailman

and the Princess

(And also a really cool Phoenix)

By

Hannah Williams

Once upon a time under a big blue sky and upon a great green earth, there was a kingdom as pleasant as you could wish for.

            The castle was the marvel of all of the lands of that world, and most wonderful of all, the people who lived there were happy and content.

            The king used to be a strong young man with dark brown hair that shone like copper whenever sunlight stroked it.  His queen had been the fairest in the land. But that was all a long time ago, and now they were old, too old for adventures anyway.

            At that time they were very friendly with a neighboring kingdom and a mail route was established between them.  The mailman at the present was Bill.  “Short for William, I daresay,” people would add.

            But Bill would just shake his head and say, “No, just Bill.”

            Now as remarkable as it might seem, everyone thought the exact same thing of Bill.  I thought you might not believe me, so I interviewed several people.  The first was the bakery cook.

            “Bill?” he repeated gruffly as he kneaded a honey scented loaf, sweat dripping off his forehead into the dough.  “Yah, Bill.  Well now, he’s about the homeliest thang I ever did see.  Got eyes like green beans and hair like a haystack. Decent feller, though.”

            I thanked him and left.  He offered me some bread, but I politely declined.  After all, the only thing I could think about was that sweat!

            I went and asked a Count and Countess.  The Count kept smoking his pipe the entire time.  “Eh?  What’s that?  Ah, Bill.  Er…Bill…Bill.”  His brow furrowed and he blew another cloud of smoke into my face.  Since that conversation didn’t seem to be going anywhere in a hurry, I turned to the Countess, who had a most annoying habit of gnawing on her fingernails, producing an eerie clicking noise.

            “The mailman, you mean.  Oh him.  I suppose one could say…no, never mind.  He is homely, he is.”—click, click, click—“Got eyes like green beans and hair like a haystack.”  Click, click, click.

            I was relieved to carry on and met one of the royal hairdressers.

            “Oh, honestly, Bill?  Oh, he is so homely.  Those eyes look like green beans and his hair is like a haystack.  I should know about beauty, being a beauty myself.”  Here she tossed her golden ringlets proudly.  “And speaking of my beauty, here comes Laremar of the court.  Now that’s a man worth talking about.”

            Rolling my eyes, I excused myself and exited.

            But I remember the first time I saw Bill, my impression was quite different.  True, he had the pre-described features, but he was not the homeliest thing I ever saw.  He was real polite and kind too.  He smiled and said, “How ‘da ya’ do?”

            I told him I was smartly interested in penning a tale and I hoped he had some yarns to tell me from his mail routes.  He shook his head and said, “Nothin’ ever happens ta’ me.”

            I didn’t see the young man for awhile after that and when I did, my mouth dropped open.

            He shuffled up, stuffed his hands in his pockets and said, “Guess something happened to me after all.”

            And this is the story he told me.

            It was a crisp day in autumn, when Bill entered the court with a letter ascribed: to King Rifolard the 10th.

            As swift as shooting stars, he knew something was up.  The court was buzzing like bees and there was a greater amount of young men around than usual.

            He was admitted to the king with the letter.  The good ol’ chap was in bed, as he was too old to stand up for long.  He looked mighty sad.

            “What can I do fer you, yer kingship?” Bill asked, respectful-like.

            He didn’t respond, but opened the letter.  His eyes bulged, and he appeared like a tomato.  “Now they’ve done it!” he exploded.  “Asking for a ransom!”

            “Fer who?”

            “Have you not heard?  That dratted kingdom of Pluopia has kidnapped my queen, and now they’re asking for a ransom!”

            “That be right bold.”

            The king frowned.  “I have sent out a proclamation declaring that whatever young man saves my wife, I shall give him the hand of my daughter.”

            Bill gasped.  “Princess Colletiatessa?”  His heart skipped a beat, and his knees felt weak.

            The king looked at him solemnly.   “Bill, would you like to wed my daughter?”

            He gulped.  “Yes sir.”  Princess Colletiatessa of the silky copper tresses and the dusky violet eyes.

            “Then rescue my queen!”  The king paused and a flush of embarrassment spread over his face.  “There is a catch though.”

            Bill waited.

            He swallowed.  “You’ll have to rescue the queen before my daughter does.”

            Bill chose his hardiest pants and shoes in preparation for the quest.  The king’s words echoed in his mind.  Why was the princess on the quest?  It did not make sense.

            Next for his outfit, he donned a white shirt.  He had always got the impression that when armor was out of the budget the hero wore a white shirt.  Most of the time the shirt had a large slit down the chest.  Bill tried that and felt so silly he buttoned it up quick as anything, right up to the chin.

            He shouldered his mailbag, complete with letters and his Bible, before setting off to rescue the queen.  Because of his mail conquests, he knew shortcuts through the wilderness to the road to Pluopia.  When he reached the main road he saw a lady ahead of him at the crossroads.  “Howdy!” he called.

            It appeared to be an old lady, because she was all bent over and had a hood draped in front of her face.  “Where you be off to?” she called.

            Bill was feeling right chipper so he answered,

“Across valleys and over stream,

To rescue the old queen,

So I can marry my lady dream.”

            He had to be feeling chipper; otherwise he would have never rhymed.

            The lady didn’t look at him, but croaked, “Aren’t you Bill the Mailman?”

            “Yes indeedy.”

            “Don’t you know the princess would never consent to marrying a mere mailman?”

            Bill sighed and looked glum.  “Well, I am a bit afeared of that.  Most likely she would want to marry a prince.”

            “Ha!” she said, sounding shrill.  “Princes are stuffy, silly things who think a girl should fall in love with them as soon as look at them.”

            “Well, my lady, since you seem to know so much about what the princess does not like in men, would you mind telling me what she does?”

            She did not answer, but leaned forward.  (Her head was still bent down.)  “Listen, boy.  This is a perilous quest.  However, I’ve got some good news for you.  To the east of here is an abandoned tower filled with treasure.  On that road there are no hungry trolls or wolves that prowl the night.  Go on that road, it is much safer.”

            “No ma’am.  If I did that some other lucky fellow might get to the princess before me.”

            This apparently angered her, for she flung up her face, and when she did so, her hood fell off.  Down cascaded lovely brown curls that shone like copper, and he was surprised to be looking into angry violet eyes.

            “Why, Princess Colletiatessa,” he said.  “Fancy meeting you in a place like this and in an outfit like that.”

            She ignored the comment and lifted her chin.  She spoke in her fair, yet proud voice.  “Sir, now that you know who I am, I command you to turn back to the castle.”

            Bill grinned at her.  My, she had pretty eyes.  He ran a hand through his hair, sticking it up straight.  “No, my lady, I’m bound to rescue your ma so that I can marry you.”

            She pursed her lips primly.  “We’ll see about that.”  She turned away and began to walk.  Bill walked alongside her.  She frowned.  “Leave me alone.”

            “Ma’am this here road is public property and I have as much right to it as you.”

            She tossed her shining hair and crossed over to the other side.

            On they traveled in silence.  Colletiatessa kept shooting icy glares his way, and finally she broke into a run.  Bill watched her disappear around the bend in the road.  “She does seem bound to get to her mamma before me.  I guess I can afford her the satisfaction of being a little ahead.”  He burst into a whistled song.

            Perhaps an hour later, he overtook the princess.  She was now shuffling and heaving for breath.  “Afternoon,” he said and strode by, still whistling.

            A small cottage came into view, and he checked the address.  “My word, this here place has a letter due.”  He walked into the yard.

            The Princess went by and called, “Are you actually doing your mail route along the way?”

            “Yes ma’am.”

            She smiled and muttered, “It will be no chore to stay ahead of this guy.”  With this knowledge, a spring came into her step.

            Bill knew the old lady who dwelt at the cottage, and he got into a lengthy conversation with her all about what had befallen him.

            “You’ll make a swell prince,” the woman said.  “But to achieve that, you best be on your way.”

            “So I must,” he said and left.

            Evening fell, and the sky blushed rose.  Bill was just thinking he’d better find a place to sleep when he saw that the shoe-prints of the princess had suddenly been joined by the big ugly footprints of a troll.  There appeared to be a scuffle, and then only the troll-prints went off into the forest.

            Bill gaped at the evidence and scratched his head.  “Land sakes!” he groaned.  “I’ve heard tell of things like this.  Well, here goes.”

            He plunged into the forest.

To Be Continued on Wednesday....