© 2016 by Ursula Vernon.
Dust jacket illustration © 2016 by Ursula Vernon.
Dust jacket design by Ursula Vernon and Sheila Perry.
Interior art © Ursula Vernon.
Ursula Vernon’s annotated fairy tales were originally posted to her blog between February, 2012 and July, 2013, with the exception of “King of Love” which is original to this anthology. They have been lightly edited from their initial postings. Toad Words was originally published as an eBook by Ursula Vernon / Red Wombat Tea Company in 2014. Ursula Vernon can be found online at redwombatstudio.com (T. Kingfisher can be found online at tkingfisher.com).
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED IN ANY FORM OR BY
ANY ELECTRONIC, MAGICAL OR MECHANICAL MEANS INCLUDING
INFORMATION STORAGE AND RETRIEVAL WITHOUT PERMISSION
IN WRITING FROM THE PUBLISHER, EXCEPT BY A REVIEWER,
WHO MAY QUOTE BRIEF PASSAGES IN A REVIEW.
FIRST EDITION, January 2017
NESFA Press is an imprint of, and NESFA® is a registered
trademark of, the New England Science Fiction Association, Inc.
ISBN: 978-1-61037-326-5 hardcover
ISBN: 978-1-61037-317-3 Ebook
FIRST E-BOOK EDITION, JUNE 2017
Contents
The Annotated Fairy Tales
Introduction
The Blue Light
The Master-maid
The Crystal Casket
The Wonderful Sheep
The Wonderful Birch
The Golden Apple Tree and the Nine Peahens
The Deer Prince
Two Cinderellas
The Story of Log
Tatterhood
The Seven Doves
The King of Love
Toad Words and Other Stories
Introduction
It Has Come To My Attention
Toad Words
The Wolf and the Woodsman
Bluebeard’s Wife
Loathly
The Sea Witch Sets the Record Straight
Never
Bait
Night
Boar and Apples
Odd Season
Acknowledgements
Editor’s Afterword
Technical Notes
THE
ANNOTATED
FAIRY TALES
Introduction
ONCE upon a time there was an author who couldn’t sleep.
I am plagued with occasional fits of insomnia, and when I can’t sleep, I often find myself reading fairy tales. There’s something very soothing about them ... well, usually.
But at one point, in the small hours of the morning, I found myself reading a story and thinking “Wait, what? This doesn’t make any sense! And not in the usual way that fairy tales don’t make sense!”
I am a blogger, for my sins, and I went online to write about my reaction to this story for whatever other souls were awake at 3 am and wanted to know my thoughts about fairy tales and cannibals and whatever other things were rattling around in my brain at that hour. And so, the first of the annotated fairy tales was written, and readers started asking for more.
It wasn’t hard to oblige. Fairy tales are full of magnificent imagery and baffling behavior. I wrote quite a number of them over the years, and when Arisia asked to reproduce them in this volume, I was delighted to oblige.
Alas, two of the stories could not be included, owing to copyright — the specific translations were not yet public domain. So if you run across occasional mentions of twenty-four headed otters, know that it belongs to a truly wonderful story called “The Hog Bridegroom.” My gratitude is immense to the various translators and folklorists who collected these stories, without whom there would be no tradition to comment on.
Also included in this volume, in the second half, is my anthology of fairy-tale retellings previously published under the title Toad Words. I am delighted for it to see print at last as well, and so honored to have my own work in the same volume as those extraordinary writers who gave us the aforementioned tradition of strange and glorious tales.
I hope that you enjoy both halves of the Halcyon Fairy Book, and may we all live happily ever after.
The Blue Light
I frequently find myself online reading fairy tales. And being me, I frequently find myself maintaining a sort of mental running commentary about said fairy tales, and since I am spending today recuperating from Con mode, I have nothing better to do than inflict it upon you!
“The Blue Light” is a folktale of Aaren-Thompson type 562. There’s a half-dozen versions or so. This one’s from Household Stories collected by the Brothers Grimm translated by E. H. Wehnert (London: Routledge, Warne, & Routledge, 1861)
ONCE upon a time there was a soldier who had served the king loyally for many long years. When the war was over and the soldier could no longer serve because of the many wounds he had received, the king said to him, “You can go home now. I no longer need you. There will be no more money for you, because wages are only for those who earn them.”
So, the king’s a dick. Good to know.
Because the soldier did not know how he could earn a living, he sadly walked the whole day long, until he came to a forest in the evening. As darkness fell he saw a light. He approached it and came to a little house, where a witch lived. “Give me a night’s shelter and a little to eat and drink,” he said to her, “otherwise I will perish.”
“Oho!” she answered. “Who gives anything to a runaway soldier? But I will have pity and take you in after all, if you will do what I ask of you.”
Insomuch as there is a moral to fairy tales, it’s that you should always be nice to the less fortunate. You’re probably better off being nice to the less fortunate when they’re animals and old women, however, since there’s an equally large body of folk-songs that detail the hazards of letting soldiers sleep over. In situations like these, the witch pretty much has to flip a coin and hope she doesn’t wind up pregnant.
“What do you want?” asked the soldier.
“For you to dig up my garden tomorrow.”
Ideally you should ask to see the garden first in these cases, as it is entirely likely that it is guarded by ravenous griffins and hip deep in griffin crap.
The soldier agreed, and the next day he worked with all his might, but could not finish before evening. “I see,” said the witch, “that you can do no more work today. I will take you in for
