The Three Tasks
The Tasks and the Treasure
I
Once upon a time and far away a young lad, by the name of Olyn, lived on a farm with his parents and three younger sisters, Muffet, Tuffet, and Buffet. His father and mother managed to meet their family’s needs with little left over. Theirs was a happy life, that is, until Olyn and his sisters grew to adulthood and their small farm could not sustain six adults. Olyn found work and lodging as a miller’s apprentice in the nearby village of Bottomly. His father expected his sisters to marry, but they had no dowry and so had no suitors.
The young miller’s apprentice worked hard and sent what he could of his meager wages to help his family, but it was not enough. He often looked at the forest to the east of his village and dreamed of better days. Those woods were said to be enchanted–the home of magical creatures. Rumors abounded of brave souls who had ventured into that realm seeking their fortune. Some returned having achieved what they sought, but most were never heard from again.
One day in early spring the third year after Olyn left the farm, his father, Mertran, knocked on the door of the mill. Tears filled the old man’s eyes. “The crops failed,” he told his son, “And now the lord of our manor proposes to sell our farm. We have three weeks until we have to leave.”
Olyn shook his head. “But where will you go?”
Mertran lowered his eyes.
Olyn offered all the money he had-far too little to meet the need. Mertran left. The youth attempted to take on a second job, but his apprenticeship left little time for that. Besides he had no time to earn enough to keep his parents and sisters on their farm.
The following Monday he stood outside the mill staring at the enchanted forest. Surely, he thought, someone with right motives can succeed there. After all, I’m not asking for myself. Won’t that account for something from the magical creatures that are said to live in those woods?
The following morning, Olyn left his room at the mill carrying a linen satchel over his shoulder. He entered the forest without looking back at the village he left behind. At first, he noticed nothing different than what one might expect to find in any woods. But the further he ventured he began to see why people called them magical. He drew back in awe of the tall, majestic trees that towered over him. Golden shafts of light streamed down through the fairy-tale arch of green they formed overhead. The forest reeked of age. The beauty of the woods comforted the young man’s heart.
As he continued onward, Olyn did so making no noise except that of his escaping breath. He listened to the sounds of this special place. Snuffling boar rummaged at the base of the trees. Songbirds sang lilting tunes from their heights. Scurrying squirrels gathered nuts from beds of wispy moss. Rabbits shuffled through sparce undergrowth.
As the young man walked on, he came to a glade where the trees thinned revealing a royal blue sky. He entered in awe as one would enter a cathedral. He approached the clearing’s most singular feature, a tree with silvery bark and golden leaves that stood at the glade’s center. He held his breath at its beauty. When he came to within ten feet of the magnificent tree a voice called out to him. “Who are you, and why have you entered the citadel of Goldensprite, the Fairy?”
The voice came from a globe of light at the base of the tree. Within the globe Olyn spied a winged being dressed in white. Locks of golden hair flowed beneath a golden crown. This is my lucky day, he thought. I have found a fairy.
The youth stammered. “I-I am but a poor miller’s apprentice looking to find my fortune. “
Goldensprite frowned. “Looking for a fortune, eh? Many a treasure hunter has come before you and many have wandered to their deaths in these woods never finding what they seek. I suppose you have come to me for help.”
The youth regained his composure. “Good fairy, I beg your pardon, but until now I did not know you existed. However, I could use any help you could find in your heart to give me.”
The Fairy shook and so did the tree above her. “You talk about my heart? It’s your heart you should be concerned about. Why should I help someone who comes to me with a heart filled with greed?”
Olyn took a step backwards and bent at the waist. “But kind lady of these woods, I don’t seek fortune for my own sake. My father, mother, and three sisters are about to be put off our farm and will be homeless unless I help.”
Goldensprite studied the young man’s face. “You do say. However, others have come to me with stories much the same. ‘Not for myself,’ they say but in the end, their greed emerges.” She remained silent for a moment then continued. “Nonetheless, here is what I have decided. I will give you three tasks, that if you remain faithful to complete all three, you will have your fortune.”
Olyn leaned forward. “Speak on, good Fairy and I will do as you say.”
The Fairy pointed toward the North. “On the border of this enchanted land dwells a sorceress who keeps a troll to do her bidding. Long has he disrupted the peace of the denizens of my realm. Your tasks are these: Outwit the sorceress getting her to reveal the secret lair of her troll, slay him and free a damsel he has imprisoned.”
The youth shook his head. “None of that sounds easy. How can a poor miller’s apprentice like me do this?”
Goldensprite waved her hands. “A true heart will find a way. Now go away and do not return here until the tasks are done.” Her globe and she disappeared.
II
Olyn took short deliberate steps in the direction the fairy indicated. He continued muttering under his breath. “A true heart will find a way, but is my heart true enough?”
He arrived without incident at a location where the trees thinned. There within their shadow stood an ashen grey cottage covered with green moss. Around it lay talismans of every description. This must be the sorceress’s abode, he thought. Now how do I outwit her?
An eerie silence surrounded the young man as he followed a rough, uneven path to the cottage’s door. He knocked. No answer. He started to turn to leave when he heard a crackle from an ancient oak. A crow launched into the air. A hooded figure in a dark flowing robe approached from around the tree and spoke in a high raspy voice, “And just what would you be wanting, deary at the house of Mantessa?”
Olyn didn’t know what to say. “I’m a wanderer looking to find my fortune,” he managed. At least this much was true. One does not up and say, “I’m come to slay your troll, if you would kindly tell me where he is.” That sort of things is just not done. Neither would it have good effect.
“Well,” the dark figure said. “You’ve come to the right place. Never mind the appearance of things. Come into my home and I will help you. I am the sorceress of these lands, and I can grant you your many desires.”
Olyn shuddered as the sorceress brushed by him on her way to opening the door to her cottage which was as dark and dingy within as it was gray and mossy without. Olyn hesitated. He had heard stories of stalwart men becoming overcome by the spells of a sorceress such as this. He didn’t want to enter where he might become trapped.
But being drawn to his task he entered anyway. The sorceress bade him sit at a roughhewn table and fetched a cup of hot liquid from a pot hanging in her fireplace. She bade him to drink. “Have some of this. It will relax your weary bones.” But Olyn politely refused. Being under her roof was dangerous enough for his liking. He expected some sort of spell would overtake him if he drank from the sorceress’s cup.
And he thought correctly. Mantessa suspected his vulnerability and had placed a potion that would render him her slave forever in his drink. When her first invitation failed, she attempted to distract the youth, asking questions about where he came from and what he looked for. All the while she kept encouraging him to drink. The young man revealed as little as possible about himself. However, from their conversation, the sorceress gleaned that the boy had traveled afar, seeking his treasure in the enchanted forest, and had been sent on a quest by the good fairy of those woods.
The conversation continued for hours and since the lad still refused to drink, the sorceress gave up on making him her slave. If I can’t make him serve me, she decided, I’ll send him to my big guy as a treat. She looked Olyn in the eye. “If it is treasure you want, I’ll tell you where to find it. on the third hill east of here is a cave with all sorts of booty in it. A troll once lived there, but he is long gone.”
Olyn doubted the truth of the sorceress’s story but suspected she had just told him what he needed to know. He made excuse to leave and headed out the door. He thought, Maybe I didn’t outsmart the sorceress but at least I know where the troll is.
III
Olyn followed the trail indicated by the sorceress. It began as a wide thoroughfare but became narrow as it wound its way up and down rocky slopes. Other trails crossed his path. It would be easy to lose my way if I didn’t know where I was headed, he mused. Best to keep to what the sorceress said. The third hill. I see it now, but I must be cautious and arrive in the daytime. Trolls are known to come out only at night and I do not trust that crafty woman’s word that the fiend no longer lives here.
The path became steeper as he mounted the troll’s hill. About an hour before sunset, he spotted an opening in the hillside resembling a large open mouth poised to snap shut. The young man shuddered. Now, that doesn’t look very inviting. This must be the troll’s lair. How fitting it is at that. I must be careful, the brute may come out soon and I have nothing to fight him with.
Olyn moved back down the trail where he found a hiding place among large boulders. He hunkered down and considered his next move. Should I wait until daybreak and hope to find the troll sleeping? But if I dispatch him that way, where is the honor in that? But then again, Goldensprite said I was to slay the troll but made no stipulation on how I could do it. Anyway, perhaps the sorceress is right, and the troll is no longer hereabouts.
The young man continued to consider his impossible task well into the night when he heard heavy footsteps coming down the path from the troll’s den. A loud raspy voice called out. “I smell man-flesh. Where are you, man? You might as well come out and have it over with. I will find you. There is nowhere you can go that I will not smell you. There is no rock you can hide under that I cannot move.”
Olyn cringed. I hadn’t counted on this. I hoped I could catch the troll asleep and here he has caught me!
Indeed, there is much Olyn did not know about trolls. There was no need to learn about them on the farm. So, he did not know about their keen sense of smell when it came to sniffing out game.
The youth curled up in a ball between two large rocks attempting to make himself as small as possible. The eight-foot troll came closer. “No use hiding from me,” the brute croaked. “I smell you among those boulders. Maybe I’ll use one to crush you, so you can’t run away. Not as good as eating you undamaged, but still, you would taste good in a stew. So come out and meet me, Onry, the Invincible, face to face.”
The troll grabbed one of the rocks behind which Olyn hid. From his vantage point, the youth could only see the brute’s feet. He braced himself for the inevitable when he noticed an open wound on the troll’s left big toe. Indeed, a knight had slashed Onry’s foot in a desperate attempt to escape. The wound had never healed fully.
Olyn snatched up the largest rock he could manage and slammed it against the open sore. Onry broke into a howl that shook the hillside. Cradling his wounded foot, he hopped on the other until he fell in the middle of the path. The youth wasted no time rising and sprinting down the trail. He ran until he no longer could and sat down to rest.
But the thing about trolls is that although they are slow they can still track your scent, and once on your trail they seldom give up. This one had added incentive to catch his prey. He wanted vengeance for the pain his quarry had inflicted on him.
As Onry drew near, Olyn heard the pursuit and gathered his strength another sprint. For the second time, he raced until he was spent. And so, the night continued as follows: Olyn would run until exhausted. The troll would catch up. Olyn would gather enough strength for another dash and the troll would catch up again, and so on.
Each time the youth’s dash became shorter. He knew he could not evade the troll forever–unless…Something entered the back of his mind. I may not know much about trolls, but in the stories I have heard, they seem to be intolerant of sunlight. If I can only make it until then.
Onry thought of this too late. When he saw the first grey light of dawn inching over the hills, he broke off the chase and ran back towards his cave.
When Olyn realized the troll no longer tracked him, he waited until noon before venturing from his hiding place. I know this is foolish and puts me back into danger, he thought. But I’ve just got to know what is happening. He walked back toward the troll’s lair.
The youth heard no evidence of the troll as he approached the cave. Curiosity, and the call of his uncompleted task, pulled him on. As he rounded the last turn of the trail, he saw the hideous open mouth of the cave and Onry standing in front of it as if the giant face poised to snap shut on him. The brute stood motionless.
Olyn inched his way up to the troll. Reaching out with his hand, he found Onry had turned to stone. The morning light had caught the brute just short of the safety of his lair. His mouth remained open, frozen in the midst of cursing the sun. A butterfly flitted around stony fangs.
IV
Olyn stared at stone troll and touched him gingerly. He reflected, Well, two of the tasks the fairy gave me are done with, but I don’t know if either counts. I didn’t do anything of it, both things just happened.
The young man approached the troll’s dark cave. Its foreboding mouth poised as always as if ready to snap shut on anyone foolish enough to enter in. I did not do the other tasks but there still remains one–rescue the damsel in distress. This ought not to be too difficult now that the troll is no longer a problem, but where is she? I hope not in that cave.
Olyn stood on the cave’s threshold and called out, “Hello! Is anyone in here?”
A faint cry came from the rear of the cave, “Help! A troll has me in his dungeon!”
Hearing that, Olyn gathered the courage to enter the troll’s lair. He moved to the place where the voice appeared to originate–a solid wall. “I’m here,” he called out, “But where are you? There is a stone wall in front of me.”
The voice returned. “I’m behind the wall. It must be enchanted. The troll would say something, but I don’t know what, and the wall would open up. But whatever you do, hurry because the troll is sure to return soon.”
Olin smiled to himself. “No danger of that, he’s indisposed. But what would a troll say to open a stone wall? They’re not known to be very clever, nor do they have good memories. It has to be something simple and easy to remember.” The young man tried “open,” “open I say,” and everything else he could think of, but the wall did not budge. The youth sighed. “Too bad we can’t ask the brute.”
The voice behind the wall answered, “If trolls have bad memories as you say, maybe he has it written somewhere. Are there any marks on the wall?”
Olin answered, “I can’t tell. It is dark. I’ll make a torch.” He looked around until he found some tattered cloth, some pitch, and a long stick. From these he formed a torch and lit it. He returned to the wall and studied it carefully. “There’s nothing here except a mark where it must be that the wall opens.”
“Why do you say that?” the voice returned.
“Because there is a line from roof to ground and the crudely written word–‘stonebreak’.”
What Olin did not know was that “stone break” is exactly what a troll would say to command a wall to open, and when he spoke the words as one it enacted the spell. The line in the wall became a crack that slowly opened until he could see the damsel on the other side. He thought, the third task is completed, but again I did nothing. I just stumbled on the answer to the problem.
The youth took the maiden by the hand and led her out to the sunshine. She shuddered at the sight of the stone troll and turned away to smile at her rescuer. “I am Lynwyf, a maid from the village Lanvil. The Troll captured me three months ago as I ventured out one night enjoying a full moon. He kept me in his dungeon, and each day as he gave me food, he said, ‘Eat up, my pretty one, for tomorrow most likely I will have you for my supper.’”
Olin studied Linwyf’s fair face and decided he had an instant liking for her. “That must have been awful and to have to eat troll food on top of it.”
Lynwyf shook her head. “No, not troll food. He gave me things he scrounged from people in nearby villages. The food wasn’t bad, and he never harmed me. But still, I am glad to be free from him. Let’s get away without delay.”
The young man nodded. “Sure thing, but first let’s see what the brute may have left behind in his lair, besides you, of course.”
Lynwyf did not like that suggestion but said nothing while Olyn searched the lair mindful that the troll most likely had loot stored from his many raids. He was not disappointed. He discovered quite a large pile of treasures, in fact. This will make up for not getting reward from the fairy, he thought. But his conscience took hold of him. But I can’t keep these ill-gotten gains. I must return them somehow to their rightful owners.
Olyn found five ponies tethered nearby. Apparently the troll had captured them for a future meal. The youth loaded three ponies with all the loot they could carry and mounted Lynwyf on one while he mounted the other. They traveled to the low country below the hills where he surmised Onry had done most of his raiding. There he gave out the troll’s loot to the surprise of the citizenry of that land.
When the last of the treasure had been given away King Oldsbe, the monarch of that country accompanied by a host of soldiers, met Olyn and Lynwyf in the road.
“Oh, honored knight who slayed the troll that plagued my people,” the king said. “Please accept our escort. Your fame will be spoken of long after we all have parted. Now accept a small token of my appreciation.” He motioned to an aide who handed Olyn three bags of silver and one of gold.
Olyn shook his head. “I did not do this for reward from you. Nevertheless, I will find good use for what you give me. But I need no escort from your land. However, I do ask this, that you will take the maid, Lynwyf, back to her father’s house where she belongs. She refuses to leave me.”
King Oldsbe nodded his head. “This I’ll do if the maid is willing, but I’ll not force her to go against her wishes.”
In the end, Lynwyf clung to her determination to remain with her rescuer and since Olyn had grown quite fond of her he accepted her company. They traveled to the forest where they found the fairy who had sent the young man on his quest. Lynwyf gasped at the sight of Goldensprite within her globe.
The fairy held out her arms. “Congratulations, O man of true heart. You completed your tasks.”
“But I did none of it,” Olyn protested. “It all happened to me, by accident.”
Goldensprite smiled. “Nothing happens by accident. It all came about as meant to be. Do not doubt your heart is true. Now enjoy your reward.”
Olyn shook his head. “Yes but where is the reward you promised?”
The fairy pointed with a sweeping gesture. “Look around you. You have enough gold and silver to redeem many farms with plenty left over. You have a pretty maid who will not leave you and is yours if you choose to make her your wife. You have gained much fame and honor in all the land to the North. That in itself is more than anything I might give you. But I have one more thing for you. Go back to the sorceress’s cottage. So much of her power was linked to her troll that when he turned to stone, she turned to dust. The spell she had over that place has been lifted. You will find it very pleasant. Take it as your own.”
Olyn and Lynwyf took the fairy at her word. They went to the sorceress’s cottage which had been totally transformed. The gray had been turned to white. No decay of any kind remained. The woods surrounding it had receded leaving it in the middle of a pleasant meadow. An orderly walkway lined with flowers of every hue led to the cottage’s door.
The young man smiled at his fair maiden. “I guess there’s nothing left to do but return to my father’s house and give him gold to redeem his land and dowry for my sisters and then to your father’s house to ask his blessing on our betrothal.”
Lynwyth smiled back. “And then what?”
Olyn held her hand. “And then we come here and live happily ever after.”
And so, they did.