The princess and the librarian

(hey ho. This is the first part of a rather unusual fairy tale. Enjoy.)

Once upon a time...no, you see once upon a time is very fitting for this. I know practically every fairy tale begins like this, but it's relevant, I swear!

Ahem. Once upon a time there was a lonely princess locked in a tower. Well, she wasn't so much locked in the tower, as she was not allowed to leave the gates of the castle, but this is a fairy tale, so give me a break.

Her eyes were as deep and as blue as twilight skies. Her hair was as golden as the sun. Well, goldish. They were more strawberry blonde. Her hair was as gold as the sunrise when it's going to rain later. About twelvish.

Every day she would go and sit in the great walled gardens. With her sewing lying forgotten on her lap, her gaze would explore the land around her. Seeds from all four corners of the world were shipped there at huge expense by her father, the king Rotherick, but she would long to explore these lands for herself. Lilies would float lazily across the ornamental ponds, some catching in the drooping willow tendrils, and some would softly tip over into the waterfalls and pass down the stream. They would sail on the breeze for a minute before becoming submerged in the moat where the acid of the sewage would dissolve them.

One day, the one day in particular that her life changed, she was sitting on her wicker chair upwind of the moat. She wore flowing robes of pure white and a circlet of daisies in her curls. The princess was about to rise to return inside for her daily lessons, when she heard someone cry out in pain.
"Oh shit!"
"Who is there?" She called out, her voice startling a flock of doves into flight.
There was silence for a moment, then a young man exited a leafy bush. The man was tall and unshaven, with a mass of dark hair around his face. The princess knew he was not from around there, for he wore a tunic with the words "Paul is dead" embroidered on it.
As the Princess studied this stranger, he himself was gazing at her. He stood transfixed, oblivious to the peacock dung he had one sandled foot in, and stared at the princess as if he were a drowning man and she was the air. As if she was the first sight his eyes had ever beheld, as if she was vision from the heavens and he was an atheist , as if— the princess had spoken.

He shook himself out of his stupor and said; "what?"

"I said," the princess drew herself up," Who is this Paul and how did he die?"

The man blinked and looked at his clothing. "Oh, its---"

"Never mind." She stood and walked towards him on dainty size fours. "How is it you came to be in the walled garden? It is death to any intruders."

She put her head on one side and looked up at him. "Who sent you? Am I to be held for ransom? Are you a mercenary paid to kill me? Are you here to take advantage of my beauty and innocence?"

"What! God no!"

The princess gave a sigh of what seemed to be disappointment. She flopped back in her chair.
"Did Daddy send you? Tell him to mind his own business. I will marry who I want, and not some lord who cares only about jousting competitions and the latest coaches."
She glanced again at the stranger.

"No no no. Tell him I'm not marrying anyone. I'm going to stay a spinster and never give him an heir. Ha!"

The man watched her sulking and thought how any child of hers would be gorgeous. Even with a scowl as fierce as hers. He tried to speak again.

"Em, your father didn't send me. You see, I'm not quite sure how I got here. In-in fact, I'm not too sure where this is exactly. I-I was on the way to the record shop on 42nd street, and I must have taken a wrong ...turn.." A peacock chose this moment to urinate on his other foot. "somewhere."

The princess was staring at him; she took in his mess of hair, the baggy breeches that covered his thin frame, the sandals, the tunic. She gave a deep sigh that went through his skin and pierced his heart. What could make this vision so depressed he thought.

"Why are you so depressed?" He crouched beside her chair and looked at her quizzically.

She sighed again. "Father must be getting desperate if he expects me to marry you!"

"I told you! He didn't send me here. I've never met him!"
The princess seemed slightly cheered by this.
"So, what is your name deranged stranger?"

"Em, I'm Jim O' leary. Who're you?"
"Princess Letitia Jasmine the third," she snapped. "And do not pretend you don't know who I am!"
"Oh. Right. OK."
They were silent for a moment, then the princess turned.
"You really don't know who I am?"
"Em. No. Sorry."
"But-" The silence flowed back as they retreated to think.

"Is this a dream?" Jim stammered. "I mean, I've heard of trips like this, but but I've never taken drugs, except for that one time in college, and I really thought they were just chocolate brownies."
Princess Letitia stared at him. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you are talk-"

She was interrupted by the stomping arrival of the palace guards rushing over to defend the princesses honour.
An instant later Jim O'Leary was being held at sword point. Sword points. Five razor sharp blades were constricting his breathing somewhat, which was unfortunate because Jim was having a panic attack. The last thing he saw was the princesses face as he fell to the grass.

Lets take this little moment of crisis to introduce our hero properly. Jim O'Leary was your average 22 year old. He had had a nice childhood. Your average 50's upbringing; black and white TV, "duck and cover" Watergate, the moon landing, whatever.
He hit adolescence in the prime of the swingin' 60's and managed to avoid any real excitement by being a rather pale and shy young man prone to acne and asthma attacks.
He graduated with honours in English Lit and landed a job as an assistant librarian. This is where we met him; Jim O'Leary age 22, on the way from Central library to psychedelic Records where he took a wrong turn on Madison and 5th and ended up in a parallel dimension.

I can't really explain the physics of his remarkable journey between worlds, or use any scientific voodoo, or be able to program my own VCR, but the conclusion I arrived at suits me fine. It was Fate. They were destined to meet in the walled gardens of Eloria.

So, to recap, Jim O'Leary, a pale skinny beatles fan with a penchant for paranoia and an Irish heritage turned a corner on April 7, 1973, and did what Newton, Hoover and the tin man could never do; he fell in love.