In a land long forgotten by history books, a lonely nomad roamed mountains and forests, driven away from his home long ago by the cruel hand of fate. He travelled through towns, sleeping under bridges and in barbicans, for he had been driven penniless and was mistreated by the people of his town. The cruelty of those he called his fellows tore away at his generosity and amiable nature until it was as tattered as the rags he wore, his fragile armour against the winds and rain. Before long, he had lost all heart and faith in the towns and cities of men and went along his way.
The forests of the island he wandered were kinder to him. The towering oak and pine trees gave him firewood to burn and fruits to eat. The animals of the forest kept a respectful distance from him and never taunted him for his unshaven face or his tattered clothes. He was never pitied by them and he never had to dance for his food or humiliate himself for a few copper pennies. The warbling of the birds in their branches was a sweet music to his ears after the jeers and cruel laughter of the townsfolk.
But the tranquillity of the forest in its fragile autumnal temperance was soon frozen along with the rest of the world when the winter's icy breath trapped the unfortunate sojourner. He felt the frozen grip of the powerful Winter Crone and knew that he was at her mercy. Try as he might, he was deprived of her blessing when he hunted for his food. The knee-deep snow made his days tiring and the feeble fires he built made his nights abysmal.
The night fell all too soon on the winter solstice and he found himself at the banks of the lake at the centre of the woods. Despite the savagery of the winter, the lake did not completely congeal. Blocks of ice as large as islands drifted on its waters and there sat a large rock protruding out of the shallow end of the tarn. Without warning, a frantic fluttering sound resounded in the darkened sky. Turning his head in the direction of the sound, he saw a magnificent swan sink slowly towards the rock in the water. It collapsed on the stone, heaving its last breath. It was the biggest and most wonderful swan he had ever seen, with a pair of wings that could blot out the sun and a silver chain around its neck. There was something in its beak that he could not see from where he sat but he saw it fall out as it landed on its back.
It had been a long time since the traveller had a decent meal and he saw this as an omen from the goddess of the frost. Perhaps now she had decided to reward his efforts and provide him with food. He approached the swan, muttering to himself that he was doing the poor beast a favour, putting it out of its slow and painful death.
As if the bird understood his intentions, the swan kicked violently and with some effort got off its back before it lay still again. The man stood his ground, not daring to make a move lest the swan manage to fly away. Without warning, the white bird’s body began to levitate, driven up by some unseen hand. It spread its wings and beginning to sing a heart-rending song. The song that issued from its beak was the most beautiful hymn that he had ever heard. It shamed even the purest voices of the choirs that sang in the cathedral of his hometown:
My dimming eyes can still glimpse
That bridge of motley colours leading me to the Land of the Young
The earth in my body fades away and soon will be gone
But as long as I have breath and air, I implore the sovereign of Annwn
Give me leave to sing this doleful song
In an emerald realm not far from this lake,
There lived a woman gifted by Brigid
And loved by all who knew her for her potent heart
With every kiss, they revered the fair Branwen
Their union was a sacrament as ancient as the Earth
Limitless and powerful
And nought could lay it to waste, or so it seemed
But love in itself is not enough without commitment and trust
Which the maiden discovered through hardship
There lived a trickster well-versed in sorcery
And in casting and breaking illusions
Out of jealousy for her happiness or scornful pity for her innocence
She sought the maiden out
And with the dark skills passed down from the phantom Morrigan
The maiden found herself clothed in the plumage of a swan
With nought but a silver chain around her neck
For over a year she lived in three realms
As a creature of the air, the sky was her road
A water bird, the lake was her home
And on Earth, she found friendship with the creatures of the wood
But for a year, she pined for her consort
And prayed that prophecies from eons of the past
Of love's potent magic would rupture her curse
And unite her with her beloved once more
One night, her friend the owl returned to her
With a locket from her chain, a relic of treasured memories
Given to her by her prince in testament to their bond
And stolen by her tormentor, the sorceress who knew of its power
To return her once more to form of woman
As mistress of the air, the swan maiden took wing
With the locket clutched in her beak
And the memory of her loved one in her mind
And even the rain that threatened her progress obeyed her command
For she had control of the waters above as well
Upon her arrival, she struggled but succeeded
To slip her token on her chain
Whereupon she glanced at her human form once more, reflected in the pond
Near her betrothed's palace
But Fate was merciless on the night of her homecoming
For she had arrived at the scene of a wedding
She ran into the palace only to observe her prince
In the passionate embrace of another woman as fair as she
Alas, she was too late.
In agony did she weep, in sorrow did she see
That her love was not meant to be
So she flew to her prison, now her home
Death would do them part, but she would die alone
While the rain poured and mixed with her tears
Her dying body felt the weight of a thousand years
And the memories of the young woman she was
Died first in her short lived flight to the water
My breath feels heavy now; I have not long to live
But before my time is up, I have one more secret to give
I am the maiden of this woeful melody
My breath falls short; I will be gone shortly
But from you, weary traveller, I do implore
That you will keep with you my song
To keep and to share with this cruel world
From now and forever more.
As the last words fell from her lips, the bird fell forwards and landed facedown into the water. True to her word, she had finally come home to die in what was once her prison.
The drifter had endured harshness, loneliness and the wrath of the elements. He had been humiliated and deprived of shelter, food and compassion and his ordeal in the forest petrified his already hardened heart. But as he watched the resplendent creature sink to the icy waters, the indifference that had been his shield for so long was dashed to pieces.
The wanderer's eyes were so wet with heartfelt tears that his vision blurred and the image of the swan maiden slowly faded from his view. Even if he were blind, the darkness would not have prevented him from shedding his tears. The princess's heartbroken song was more than enough for him. So he waded into the water to recover the dead bird, but it was too late. The swan had vanished, as if the lake had dissolved her. He fell to his knees in the water, his hands resting on the rock where she once stood. All that was left of the swan were a handful of her feathers, hanging in the air like snowflakes, and the chain that she kept around her long neck, as well as a silver pendant that had fallen out of her beak when she landed on the rock. The ornament he held in his deadened dry hands laid his disbelief to rest. It was no dream.
He took a painful intake of breath before his voice choked into long sobs. His fingers curled around the trinket in his palm while he tried to stem the flow of his tears with his free hand. He sat back on the edge of the lake, the frigid waters numbing his legs.
"Your woeful song rings forever in my heart. And so I pledge my memory in your cause. Never will the world forget of the wickedness inflicted upon you or the loss of all you held dear. Even if my story and your chant should fall upon disbelieving ears, it will never be lost or forgotten. Until my breath falls short and I leave this world, I will be thy messenger," said the inconsolable voyager.
His only reply was the silence of the lake that once held life and was now a watery tomb. The stillness that followed was unbearable for the unfortunate man, half frozen and completely alone in this desolate world. His congealed tear tracks were thawed once more from a fresh stream of tears as he held the necklace close to his heart. He vowed never to sell it, no matter how valuable it was or how much he could gain from it. As long as he held it close, he would never forget the heartbroken princess and her song. She might have died alone but her death would not be without witness.
All of a sudden, the air was filled with music. He lifted his bowed head and tried to find from where it had originated. It was a music that rivalled even the dying swan's song. There was no other way of explaining it, other than that it came from the Otherworld. A rainbow slowly began to rise from the water as the music swelled, and a white figure appeared out of the same spot where the enchanted bird had fallen.
Gradually, the white figure turned into the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. A golden aura surrounded her body and brightened up the obscurity of the winter sky. Her auburn hair cascaded down to her shoulders and she was clothed in a radiant white robe. The green of her eyes brought back memories of warm summers that lifted the weight off his heart and her smile banished away the cold that had infiltrated his bones. She approached him, taking his head in her hands and kissing his forehead with genuine gratitude.
"My thanks are with you, kind stranger. You have a strong heart and a beautiful soul and I know that you will honour your promise. Fare thee well," she said with a silken voice.
With that, she retreated back to the rainbow that yawned across the lake. A golden portal of light opened behind her, and she faded from his view just as easily as she had appeared. She was finally at peace.