The Snow Queen in Seven Stories — Sixth Story — The Laplander Woman and the Finnish Woman
The reindeer and Gerda stopped at an impoverished little hut, its roof sloped nearly to the ground, and the door so low that the family had to enter and leave on their hands and knees.
The only person at home was an old Lapland woman who was busy cooking fish by the light of an old lamp. Gerda, frozen nearly to the bone, was unable to speak, and so the reindeer told the Laplander all about Gerda’s story, after first telling of his own which seemed, at least to him, of greater import.
“Oh, you poor things,” said the Lapland woman, “you have a long way to go yet. You must travel more than a hundred miles farther, to Finland. The Snow Queen lives there now, and she burns Bengal lights every night. I will write you a few words that you can take to a Finnish woman who lives there, for she can give you better information than I. But this warning I must give you. Bitter as the winter is, the way is more treacherous than before, for the Winter-child faltered in her ways, although but for a moment, and none knows why.”
And so, as Gerda was warmed and took something to eat and drink, the woman wrote down her words on a piece of dried fish, for this far north paper was all but unheard of, and a hut this poor would certainly have no other material handy upon which to write; and having written these words the woman handed them to Gerda, telling her to take great care of them. Then she tied Gerda to the reindeer, and once more he was away with a flash and clap of hooves.
And in the sky the lights flashed in response, now blue in the air all night long. Flash went the lights and flash went hooves until, at length, they reached Finland, and knocked at the chimney of the hut of the Finnish woman, for it had no door above ground.
They crept in, but it was so terribly hot inside that the woman scarcely wore clothes. She helped Gerda loosen her clothes so she could remove her outer garb, and boots and mittens, for Gerda would have been unable to bear the sudden heat. Placing a piece of ice on the reindeer’s head the Finnish woman read what was written on the dried fish, and then read it twice more to know it by heart, before popping the fish into the soup saucepan, for the fish was good to eat, and there is little point to wasting food if there is no need, especially when the eternity of the Winter-child had shown a sudden change, and no one knew what that may portend.
Once more the reindeer told his story first, and then that of Gerda’s, and the Finn twinkled with her clever eyes, but she said nothing.
“You are so clever,” said the reindeer, “I know you can tie all the winds of the world with a piece of twine. If a sailor unties one knot, he has a fair wind; when he unties the second, it blows hard; but if the third and fourth are loosened, then comes a storm, which will root up whole forests. Cannot you give Greda something which will make her as strong as twelve people, to overcome the Snow Queen?”
“The power of twelve!” said the Finnish woman, “that would be of very little use”. And so saying, she went to a shelf, taking down a large skin on which were inscribed wonder characters. And there she read in silence while perspiration ran down her forehead.
But the reindeer begged so hard for Gerda, and Gerda looked at the Finnish woman with such beseeching tearful eyes, that her own eyes began to twinkle again; so she drew the reindeer into a corner, and whispered to him while she laid a fresh piece of ice on his head, “Kai is really with the Snow Queen, but he finds everything there so much to his taste and his liking, that he believes it is the finest place in the world; but this is because he has a piece of broken glass in his heart, and a little piece in his eye. These must be taken out, or he will never be human again, and the Snow Queen will retain her power over him.”
“But can you not give Greda something to overcome this power?”
And the Finnish woman gave a cunning smile, for she had tapped deeper into the Old Wild than most, and saw further and deeper than others.
“I am no more able to give her more power than the Winter-child has of ever catching the Somer-child. But what use is more power to her? Both people and animals are obliged to serve her, and how well has she got through the world, barefooted as she was. She cannot receive any more power than she has now. She must merely learn to accept what it is, and in doing so, who she is. Then, and only then, can she gain access to the Snow Queen. If she cannot gain access, and cannot remove the glass fragments from Kai, we can do nothing to help her. Two miles from here the Snow Queen’s garden begins; you can carry the girl so far, and set her down by the large bush that stands alone in the snow, covered in red berries. Do not tarry there with your friend, for doing so would lead to both of your deaths, but come back here alone, and as quickly as you can.”
And so the Finnish woman led the reindeer and Gerda out of the hut and lifted Gerda onto the back of the reindeer, and he ran as swiftly as could which as we’ve already seen, is a very great speed indeed.
“Oh, I’ve forgotten my boots and my mittens,” cried little Gerda, as soon as she felt the bitter cold, but the reindeer dared not stop, so he ran on till he reached the bush with the red berries, there to set Gerda down, and as he kissed her great bright tears rolled over his cheeks. And then, with a flash and clap of hooves, he was gone, to run back as fast as he could.
There stood poor Gerda, alone, without shoes, without gloves, in the midst of the cold and ice, caught fast in the depths of the Winter-child’s embrace. She ran forwards as quickly as she could, when a whole regiment of snowflakes suddenly flocked around her; not from the sky which was crystal clear and still danced with piercing blue northern lights. Instead the flakes ran along the ground and the nearer they came to her, the larger they appeared. Gerda remembered how large and beautiful they looked through the magnifying glass, but these were much larger, and considerably more terrible, for they were alive, and were the guards of the Snow Queen, garbed in the strangest of shapes. Some were like great porcupines, others like twisted serpents with their heads stretching out, and some few were like little fat bears with hair bristled. But all shared the same colour, all a dazzling white, and all were living snowflakes. Alone, frightened, and with what little hope she had left fading as fast as the snowflakes advanced, Greda remembered the last time she and Kai had been together as true friends, and then bid farewell to him as she sang the song she had sang that day, but now turned to despair.
“Roses bloom and cease to be,
But the Somer-child we shall never see…”
The cold was so great that she could see her own breath come out of her mouth like steam as she uttered the words. The steam appeared to increase as she continued her song, till it took the shape of sparrows that had nested in the garden that day of change. Their number continued to increase more and more, and by the time Gerda had finished, a whole flock had gathered around her.
As Gerda looked inside herself and saw the secret hidden even from herself until now; and with acceptance came release, as the flock sheared it’s way into the terrible snowflakes, shivering them into a hundred pieces, and Gerda could go forward with courage and safety, safe from the depths of the worst of winter, no longer touched by the cold —
— Afire inside.
And so now we must turn our eyes to see what Kai is doing, for in truth he had thought not on, or even remembered Gerda. He certainly never supposed that Gerda could be standing in the front of the Snow Queen’s palace.
