The Goatherd
by RC Smith
Copyright© 2017 by RC Smith
Fantasy Story: A very short story about a Princess and her suitors, about a challenge, about death and love.
Caution: This Fantasy Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa Fairy Tale .
This is a story that I have dreamed. Seriously. During the night from April 24 to 25, 2017. I have embellished the dream here, added some color, worked on the language, but the core of this story is what I have dreamed.
For inspiration, the dream is clearly indebted to Turandot, Penelope, Pirate Jenny, the brothers Grimm, and many others. My thanks to you all!
The King has died, leaving his daughter as his only heir.
She had ruled together with him.
The law says, the King’s, or the Queen’s, throne and life have to be shared. Now that the King has died, his daughter rules in his name, but she cannot be the Queen, until she has found the one to be her consort.
The King has left his bow in her possession. Maybe it was he who had declared it, before his death, or maybe it had been she herself, but the word has been spread, that the one who proves to be able to draw the old King’s bow, will be the one to live and reign with her.
From near and far, men have come to try to win the prize. Princes, warriors, commoners — strong and courageous men, all of them, but not even the strongest of them has even come close to drawing the bow. When they fail, of course, they have to die.
What they do not know (and does the King’s daughter know it?), is that the King hadn’t been able to draw this bow, either — he had it made and strung for this purpose, heavy, sturdy, from the hardest and most unbendable wood, so that no mortal can draw it.
So, men come, young men, old men, men in the prime of their years, and the King’s daughter watches, as they try, and fail, and die.
Then comes the girl.
Everybody had assumed that only men could apply, but, nowhere had this actually been said, or written.
So, at the day of the week, at the time of day, assigned for suitors to take up the challenge, with her dark eyes and her ragged clothes, she enters the palace.
They question her, as they had questioned those before her, in the palace’s central court, where the King’s daughter, the courtiers, the servants, and many of the citizens and also visitors to the town have assembled.
What is your name?
— They call me you, there.
What is your profession?
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