Sad news arrived one day at the court of a great kingdom. The Kings only daughter had been stricken with a strange malady and had fallen into a deep swoon. None of the kingdoms healers or wizards could tell the king exactly what was wrong with his poor daughter. She slept deeply, save for a few moments every few hours when she would almost rouse out of her slumber and speak. All she would say at these times was the same whispered phrase, over and over. The White Stag. Now it so happened that deep in the majestic old forest that spread from border to border of the kingdom, there were tales of a mysterious white stag that would appear, then disappear from view. It was said by some to be a legend and others a spirit. Many a hunter had a story about a hunt spoiled by the sudden ghostly appearance of the stag. It was said to inhabit the deepest and least accessible parts of the forest. The kings wizards said that the beast had somehow placed a spell over the princess, and she could only be freed by its death. The king had been devastated by his daughters plight and in his sorrow, issued a proclamation. Whosoever amongst all the hunters in the land that does bring the head of the White Stag to the royal court shall receive half of my kingdom and my daughters hand in marriage. The news spread quickly throughout the kingdom, with the immediate result being a sudden interest in archery among the local young men. Eventually news of the proclamation reached a hunting lodge, where the former Royal Huntsman had retired to after many years of faithful service. He was the mightiest hunter, and the best tracker in the kingdom. None but he had ever been able to pull his bow and he was unmatched as an archer. Many a time he and the king had stood back to back and shield to shield in battle. Many a time had they hunted together in the old forest. Though good friends and comrades, they had not seen one another in many years. The messenger of the king came and left, disappointed. It was the old king himself, come to beg for his friends help, one last time. The king had, you see, regretted his hasty words, spoken in grief. The king treasured his daughter, but knew that to hold her out as a prize was a tragedy in the making. So to save her honor and the kingdom, he had come to his only hope. Unfortunately, his only hope was gone, for his old friend had been in a near fatal hunting accident just a few days before. The hunter had survived, but the mauling he had received from a giant black bear had left his right arm hanging useless by his side. He would not be able to pull his bow for a few weeks, at best. The bear had escaped back into the woods, from where it had been raiding their livestock pens for months. As the king sat with his old friend, comforting him who could offer no comfort in return, the huntsmans young son came up and bent one knee to the king. If his Majesty wills it, then I shall take my fathers place as Royal Huntsman. I will go into the forest and do what must be done, so the Princess does not suffer any longer and the Kingdom shall remain whole. The king was touched, much more touched than amused at the lads offer. It was nobly said and done and the king held back his initial words of refusal. After all, the blood of his comrade did flow in the young mans veins and better a small hope than none at all. The king rose to his feet and drew his sword. He placed the sword on the lads right shoulder, then the left. To you is given the title, Kings Huntsman, for this quest. We are grateful for your offer of aid in this time of crisis and accept you into our service. My hopes and the future of our Kingdom go with you... The king sheathed his blade and bade the boy rise. I will stand by my son and be his eyes and ears on his quest, my Lord, his old friend spoke, kneeling as well. The hunter looked sadly after the Kings carriage as it traveled slowly back to the castle. Then he turned and gazed proudly at his son. That was well spoken, my son. Come, we must prepare for the morrows hunt. You will have but one chance and it must not fail. The two hunters set out the next morning, well before the suns light showed on the star filled sky. With his father leading, following a trail that only he could find, the boy walked as quietly as he could. On his back was strapped the great bow of his father and in the quiver he bore was a single arrow. It was an old treasure, a legend out of hunters tales. The last arrow, the one that never fails in time of greatest need. A magic arrow, that always hits its mark, or so the legends went. The boy had never before seen his father bring it out on a hunt and he felt a thrill, to merely bear it on his back. The pair stopped on a small knoll, deep within the woods. There was a ring of stones upon the knoll and they stepped carefully within this ring and stood together in the center. The boy followed his fathers hand as he pointed to the star filled sky. There, my son, are the stars that make up the constellation we call the Hunter. He is the great huntsman of the night sky, the one who guides all true hunters. We have come here to see, and to listen. If your heart is true, then the Hunter may speak to you. The boy was about to ask how the stars could speak when a bright light moving across the sky caught his attention. Far above, a shooting star had launched itself from the constellation of the Hunter, seemingly from the stars forming the Hunters bow. The path of the star was long and clear for several seconds heading towards the horizon and the first rays of the rising sun. While still in full flight, some clouds in its path parted, revealing the full moon. The star appeared to strike the moon, for it disappeared from view. The two below did not stir for some moments. Finally the boy turned and spoke. Father, what does this mean? he asked. It is a strange omen, my son, his father answered carefully. But you are the hunter this day, so this is your message from the one above. It is for you to find the meaning of this vision. His son nodded slowly, considering this matter. As he did, his father removed a small pack from his back and opened it. Here, take you this wrist guard, it belonged to my father and his before him. The boy placed the leather wrist guard on and saw that it bore a silver rune, but it was not one that he recognized. The wrist guard bears an enchantment, one that will suit us well. The boy stared in amazement as his father opened his bow case and removed his own bow, not the smaller one owned by his son. He started to protest, for he could never draw this bow. His father held up his hand and stifled the boys words. He quickly, but painfully strung the bow. Then he leaned upon it for a moment before addressing his son. The wrist guard will grant you strength equal to mine, but only once. You are still a lad, but today you use a mans bow. His son took the bow offered him by his father in shaking fingers. He was sure that he would not be able to pull it, much less shoot the arrow straight. But there was something in his fathers eyes that reassured him. There was so much at stake, that he knew his father would only do this if he trusted his son to succeed. Back at the castle, the morning had come and there was a great gathering of hunters at the main gate. Hundreds in number, they were smiling and laughing, betting and boasting of their success to come. The real hunters among the people had gone out before dawn, slipping as silently as they could through the deep shadows of the forest. As the procession set out, there came the sound of many horns. The old huntsman and his son were well ahead of them all. They stopped and looked back along their trail as the faint cry of the hunt came to their ears. The hounds leap to the hunt, said the old man, grimly. But perhaps we foxes shall beat them to the prize, father, the boy said in answer. He grinned as his father smiled and then laughed quietly, clapping his son gently on the shoulder. Perhaps you are right. Secretly he was still disturbed by the omen they had seen earlier. The arrow had missed the mark intended. Deeper and deeper into the forest the pair of hunters went, following the twisting and turnings of an almost invisible track upon the forest floor. The course kept criss-crossing a stream whose bed and surrounding terrain grew rockier with every step. Occasional trees had fallen across the stream and the trail sometimes went over these natural bridges. The sun was just hitting the tree tops and a mist was forming across the forest. The old huntsman had to use all the secrets he had been taught by his father and his many years in the forest to keep on the faint trail left by what he could tell was a huge deer. It often crossed the path of other deer, but always traveled on alone. The prints left by the deer were getting fresher, as well. He knew that they were getting close to their prey. Back at the castle, the old king was sitting by the bedside of his daughter, listening to the horns calling in the forest. He winced and gave her hand a gentle squeeze and then laid it down upon the bed. He rose and went over and opened the doors leading to the balcony. The stars of the Hunter were still visible in the early morning light. The king looked up at them, more father than king in that moment. He knew that there was no way to tell who would kill the White Stag and claim his daughters hand. He hoped it would be a worthy man, one with honor, not like those beasts with their laughing and their betting. It would kill all his happiness if his daughter was bound to cruel man, and he vowed that if he had the chance again, that she would marry only whom she chose, and no other. The White Stag... he heard behind him, as the princess turned in her slumber. He turned back to the stars, now fading from view. Oh, great Hunter in the sky, invoked the king, Guide the arrow from my Huntsman to the right and proper mark! I beg you to save my daughter from her fate, from my stupidity, from this spell. Golden shafts of sunlight pierced the mist like lances as the pair of hunters finally caught sight of their quarry. Across a rocky vale, the White Stag stood. It turned its head at their approach and regarded them calmly. A peculiar feeling fell over the hunters. All three of them just stood there, staring for what seemed an eternity of moments. Then the suns light rose over the treetops and shone full down upon the White Stag, which glowed like a living star. The boy found himself reaching for his arrow and lifting his fathers bow, although it seemed to him as if he moved in a dream. His hands notched the arrow and began to pull back the cord. The bow began to bend, he was doing it! That thrill brought him out of the spell and he made eye contact with the stag. It seemed to look into his very soul. For the princess, he whispered as he pulled the arrow back to his ear. The mists in front of the White Stag swirled. The stag started back as the boy let fly the arrow at a huge dark shadow that reared up out of the mist some twenty paces away from where they stood. The ancient arrow flew straight and true and buried itself deeply into the heart of a great black bear. The bear fell, almost at their feet. Why, tis the same bear that mauled me! noted his father, the spell now broken. He edged closer, seeing a flash of white where the arrow had struck. It has a white patch of fur, like a full moon where your arrow found its mark, he added. I see it now, father, the boy said. The King named me his Royal Huntsman and I declare this hunt has ended. My arrow found its right and proper mark, for our quarrel was with the bear, not the stag. He turned and regarded the White Stag, which stood regarding him. Even if I could draw this bow a hundred times, to shoot a thousand arrows, I would never shoot another arrow at thee, he said to the stag. For its calm nobility had touched him. Father, I believe that we will find that the princess is awakening from her spell, for I do not believe that she was enchanted by the White Stag but for its benefit. The bear could just have easily attacked the stag, had not we been sent here by her words. His father had to agree. He knew that he would never hunt this lord of the forest, and he did not think that it would be in any danger from the pack wandering lost in the woods. He clapped his son on the back, proud of the way his son had conducted his first hunt. Making their way to the castle, they found that a celebration was underway. The princess had indeed recovered as the young hunter had said she would. The pair told their tale to the king and his daughter later that night. The king offered them any reward that they might desire, and the old hunter declined, asking only that his old friend would but come to his lodge to hunt or fish sometime soon. The king agreed to this gladly, then turned and asked his friends son what his desire would be. The boy answered that he would like to be taken into the kings service as Royal Huntsman when he reached the proper age, and the king agreed to this as well. The princess stepped forward and stood in front of the boy then. Yet that is not enough, Father. He did, after all, win the hunt and deserves some prize. she smiled and reached out her hand. So I do offer you my hand...in friendship, if you will take it. That I will accept and gladly, Princess, he answered, as they shook hands. He gave her a smile of his own. High above, though the light of his stars was obscured by the light of day, the Hunter smiled down upon them all. It had been a good hunt
Posted on: Mon, 21 Oct 2013 06:28:54 +0000
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