East O' the Sun, West O' the Moon

--

Once upon a time there was an old woodcutter, who lived in the woods with his wife and two children, who were named John and Molly. Now, one day the old woodcutter's wife ran off with the town baker, leaving the woodcutter alone with his two hundred childr-

"Beau," whined Molly. "You're not telling it right."

"I'm not?" Beau asked his little sister.

"You said you were going to tell the story of Hansel and Gretel," whined John, though he wasn't quite as annoying as Molly.

"I am," said Beau. "Hansel and Gretel are the names of the dragons who eat all the children."

There was a chorus of variously whiny 'no's as all the children began to protest.

"Alright, alright," Beau said, giving in because he was far outnumbered by all his younger siblings.
"I'll tell the real story of Hansel and Gretel. Once upon a time…"

There were similarities between Hansel and Gretel and his life, Beau reflected as he tucked the children into bed. Their father was a woodcutter, and their mother was gone—run off with the baker, but gone nonetheless—and they were seldom able to feed all the children she'd left behind. Beau's father wouldn't remarry, though, and he would never allow any of the children to be left in the woods.

He'd actually rescued the twins from a fate like Hansel and Gretel's a few months after Beau's mother had abandoned them. Beau's father had insisted they were merely lost and their parents would come looking for them, but no one ever showed up asking about a pair of matched black-haired girls.

It had been nearly a year since they'd found the twins on a cold winter morning, curled together under a tree near the stream, and winter was fast approaching yet again.

Last year they'd had enough to feed two extra mouths, barely, but they'd managed. The good harvest, low taxes and early spring had all helped. This year looked to be a different story.

The poor harvest had caused the new king to raise taxes so he could pay for his own extravagance, and winter was already threatening to come early. Beau didn't know how they would all survive the winter, and he didn't think their father did, either.

I should go, Beau thought, slipping behind the curtain to look out the window. The light from the lantern outside their door glittered off crystalline flakes drifting from the sky. Snow. It figured. I'm old enough to make my own way in the world, Beau thought, watching for the shadowed shape of his father through the trees. It would leave more food for the rest of them, even if this isn't the best time of year to go looking for work. He'd do it, too, if he could be assured that there would be enough food without him.

But Beau was quite certain that there still wouldn't be enough food if he left, in fact, he was convinced that there would be even less, since then their father could not keep working while Beau watched the children, which meant less income and less food. Maybe if Nora was older, Beau thought. There were six years between him and the next-oldest child, and as mature as she was, Beau doubted that she could handle taking care of all the other children by herself.

Sighing, Beau leaned his head against the window frame, watching the snow and the shadows.

Finally he saw something moving, a shadow that eventually took the shape of his father ambling his way through the falling snow as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Let me carry some, Beau thought as his father paused on the doorstep to knock the snow off his boots and shake off his cloak. Beau slipped from behind the curtain as his father creaked open the door, holding the lantern.

"Evening," the woodcutter whispered. "They asleep?" he asked, nodding at the children, who filled nearly every corner with their beds.

Beau nodded. "Just now," he whispered back.

"Good," the woodcutter said, securing the door and hanging up his cloak.

"How was it?" Beau asked.

His father shook his head. "'bout the same," he said. "Although, as I came home-" he hesitated, and then shook his head. "It must have been a dream," he muttered.

"What?" asked Beau. His father had never been known to have visions before.

"I thought I met a bear," he said as he sat to remove his boots. "One that spoke to me like a man."

"What did he say?" Beau asked, feeling a strange little tingle down his back, as though this was something important.

The woodcutter snorted. "He said that, if I gave him my oldest child, then he'd make sure that the rest of us were fed and clothed and warm for evermore." He shook his head. "I suppose I've heard one too many of your stories, Beau," he said.

Beau half-smiled. "And what did you tell the bear?" he asked, curious.

"I told him we'd needed none of his, and that I'd eat my left foot before I sold one of my children into slavery," the woodcutter said, tugging off one boot.

You might get that chance, Beau thought, an image of their nearly-empty root cellar flickering through his mind.

"At that the bear said he'd give me some time to think about it, and then he left," the woodcutter finished, grunting as he pulled off the remaining boot.

"Was that all?" Beau asked, blowing out the lantern.

The woodcutter yawned as he nodded. "Although I thought he gave me something." Frowning, the woodcutter patted his pockets, his face lighting up as he found something. "Here it is," he said, pulling it out. "I imagine I picked up a piece of back hanging in a tree or some such."

The object wasn't bark, but instead was a small and dark-colored cloth bundle. The woodcutter handed it to Beau, who unwrapped it slowly, stepping closer to the fire's coals so that he could better see what was inside. "Father-" he said quietly.

"What is it, acorns?" the woodcutter asked, stepping over a child to get closer.

Beau held one up, and the firelight danced off of a perfectly-cut diamond the size of his thumbnail.

"It's ice," his father said, voice soft with disbelief.

Beau shook his head and held out the cloth so his father could see the pool of variously-colored gems.

The woodcutter took the cloth and held up the gems to the firelight. "Impossible," he muttered. "Impossible." Finally he handed them back to Beau. "Put them out of sight, we'll see what they are in the morning. Probably some sort of fairy-glass that vanishes in the sunlight," he muttered as he climbed the ladder to the loft where he slept.

Beau stepped carefully over the sleeping children and pulled a jar off of a high shelf to hide the gems in. Father might scoff at the idea of a talking bear, Beau thought, but he's never been one to have flights of fancy, let alone flights that ended up with three dozen gems.

But if I'm to believe part of father's story, then I need to believe all of it. Beau made his way over to the small cot that he shared with the two youngest children. If I could sell myself to anyone for the assurance that my family would survive the winter, I might very well do it. Even if that someone was a bear, and especially if that someone promised his family would survive not only this winter, but all the following ones as well.

His father would never put up with it, though, Beau knew that. And I guess I'd want more in a promise than just a bag of jewels. Although that alone probably meant they'd survive the winter comfortably enough. Assuming those aren't fairy-glass like my father thinks.

Beau sighed. What should I do if I meet this 'bear'? he wondered, just on the edge of sleep. Thank him, I guess. And go with him, even if he plans to eat me, that'd be fine so long as the others are taken care of. And with that he drifted off fully into sleep.

--

It had been a week since the woodcutter had met the bear. Beau had taken a few of the gems into town and had the jeweler look at them. The man hadn't believed Beau's tale of their origins, but he'd bought a few of the smaller stones anyway, claiming that he had not the money for the better ones, and less need for them, as well, since there was no one in the town who could afford such luxury.

The money was still more than enough to line their pantry with all sorts of goods, and Beau tentatively found himself hoping that they would survive the winter, after all.

It was late afternoon, and Beau was on his way back from town once again. This time he had been buying warmer clothing for some of the middle children. They weren't too poorly off with hand-me-downs, but Beau figured it would be best to get them better clothing while they could afford it, and besides, this way the younger ones would have a less-threadbare set when they were slightly older.

Beau shrugged his pack a bit higher on his shoulders and picked up his pace a bit as a cold wind started to blow. Don't want to be caught in it, if I don't have to be, Beau thought. He watched his steps to navigate a tricky part of the trail, and when he glanced ahead again, he nearly fell over from surprise.

There, not ten steps farther down the trail, was a giant bear, white as the snow that lay on the ground and larger than any horse Beau had ever seen.

"You are the woodcutter's eldest child?" the bear asked, stepping even closer.

Beau took a deep breath and forced himself to hold still. "Yes," he answered. "I am."

The bear's nose pushed at his chest. "You are a boy," the bear said.

What does that matter? Beau wondered. "Yes," he said, "I am."

"Hmm," the bear replied. "What do you carry?"

"Winter clothing for my siblings," Beau said, "bought with money from your generous gift, for which we thank you every day when our bellies are full and we are warm by the hearth."

"Hmm," the bear said again. He moved back a pace and sat down in the middle of the path to regard Beau. "Your father was not amenable to my offer," he said. "So I thought that I would ask you directly. My gift will remain yours even if you refuse, but let me make you the offer; if you will come to live with me, you family will be warm, fed and clothed for the rest of their lives."

Beau nodded. "And what of myself?" he asked.

"No harm will come to you, if you should do what I say," the bear replied.

"Why would you do this?" Beau asked.

The bear sighed heavily and, if possible, looked infinitely sad. "My reasons are my own," was all that he said. "Do you need time to think about my offer?" the bear asked.

Beau shook his head. The past week had been enough time. "I will come with you," he said. "I ask only the chance to deliver this package and say good-bye to my family."

The bear nodded royally, and turned so that his back was towards Beau. "Climb on," he said, "I will carry you home swiftly and we will leave from there."

Beau did as he was bid, settling onto the soft white back of the giant bear for the smoothest and fastest ride he could imagine.

In no time at all they had reached the woodcutter's cottage, and Beau dropped off his gifts. He told Nora to take good care of the younger children, and packed what few belongings were his. His father was not happy that Beau had accepted the bear's offer, but he also realized that there was nothing that he could do, and so he allowed Beau to leave in peace, and promised to do his best in looking after the other children.

With his good-byes said, Beau climbed back upon the bear's chest, and hung on as the bear traveled even faster and farther than he had before, until Beau was quite lost, when they came to the gate of a castle.

The bear easily bounded over the gate and landed lightly in the courtyard. "This is my home," said the bear as Beau dismounted. "You are welcome to go anywhere you will." He led the way into a large front hall, where there was a small table with an even tinier silver bell upon it. "Should you desire anything," said the bear, "you have simply to ring this bell and you will receive it."

Beau nodded. "Thank you," he said, picking up the bell and stowing it in a pocket.

"I will visit when I can," said the bear, "but for now I will leave you to settle in."

"Thank you," Beau said again as the bear left. He watched the bear jump once more over the gate, and found himself lonely. "Well," Beau said to himself, "I've a castle to explore."

He didn't get far the first night. Instead, he used the silver bell to summon himself a dinner, and then found that he was too tired to explore. Using the silver bell again to find a bedroom, Beau crawled into the giant bed that it contained and curled up to sleep for the night.

He had not been there long when someone climbed into bed with him. Sleepily used to his siblings joining him for the night, Beau had a hard time waking fully.

"Wha?" he mumbled.

"Shh," said the other, a male voice. "I won’t hurt you, go back to sleep."

"'K," Beau muttered, rolling back over. Far from not hurting him, the strange man did not even touch him, and was gone in the morning.

So very gone was he that Beau thought he must have imagined the whole experience, and did his best to put it out of his mind.

And behind this door is…another parlor, Beau thought, opening another door in the long hallway. He'd lost count of how many of those he'd found already, although he figured there might be a subtle difference between all the rooms that he was just missing. Like maybe there were seven sitting room, six tea rooms, three solars and only eight parlors, but Beau had no way of knowing.

I'd expected more bedrooms, at the very least, Beau thought as he left the latest parlor. "Oh well," he muttered, stretching and deciding it was time for lunch. There had been a tiny and cozy dining room—or at least a room with a table and some chairs—back by the main entrance, so Beau headed back that way before using his bell to summon food.

He had just settled down to eat when the bear arrived, easing his way through the doorway carefully.

Strange that this is his home, but yet was so clearly not built for a bear, Beau thought to himself as he stood up and moved one of the chairs out of the way so the bear could sit next to the table. "How was your morning?" Beau asked.

The bear sighed. "It was as well as might be expected," he said, "and yours?"

Beau smiled at him. "I explored the rooms," he said. "There's an awful lot of parlor rooms here, do you entertain guests often."

The bear rumbled, and Beau was worried until he realized it was laughter. "I used to," the bear said. "But no longer."

Beau ate his food, thinking about how lonely it must be to live here all alone, although the bear wasn't exactly trapped like Beau was. "Will I be able to see my family?" Beau asked suddenly. "Just- as a visit some day."

The bear nodded. "Not until spring, I'm afraid," he said. "But I assure you that they are quite well."

"Thank you," Beau said. He ate a few more bites. "What type of bear are you?" he asked.

The bear rumbled again. "I've never been asked that question," he said. "I believe that I am a northern white bear, what some call a 'polar' bear."

"And how is it that a bear can talk?" Beau asked.

"Now that is so great a secret that I cannot tell you," the bear said.

"Very well," Beau said, eating a bit more. "Bear-" Beau said, in anticipation of asking another question, but then he paused and grimaced. "What is your name?"

The bear looked sad at that. "I no longer have one," he said.

"But I cannot simply call you 'bear,'" Beau pointed out.

"I suppose not," replied the bear with one of his body-heaving sighs. "In that case, I suppose that Bruin will suffice."

"Bruin," Beau said, trying the name out. It means 'bear,' doesn't it? Well, if the bear said he had no name, then perhaps bear was his name. Beau was not about to gainsay him either way.

Conversation continued to be a bit stilted during lunch, but afterwards, Bruin too Beau on a tour of the more interesting parts of the castle, and the company was much more comfortable.

Bruin left just before nightfall, and Beau was left by himself for the evening. He explored a bit more, ate dinner, and then curled up in bed with a book. It was a simple book of children's tales, but Beau's reading skills had suffered greatly since he'd begun taking care of his younger siblings, and so simple was about all that he could handle.

Not too much later, Beau gave up on the book, putting out his candle and settling into the blankets of the bed. Beau was just on the far side of sleep when he felt someone crawl into bed with him again. "Who are you?" Beau asked, waking himself up enough for the entire question.

"Shh," said the stranger. "Go back to sleep."

Beau did.

The stranger was gone again in the morning, and Beau wondered if, once again, he had been a dream, but if he was a dream, then it was a dream that Beau had every single night for the first month of his stay with Bruin.

"Is there someone other than us who lives here?" Beau asked hesitantly a few days after he'd been in the castle for a month.

"There is not," Bruin replied. "Why do you ask?"

"I dream that someone shares my bed with me in the night," Beau said.

He thought the bear looked alarmed. "Does he seek to do you harm?" Bruin asked.

Beau shook his head. "He does not, only bids me to return to sleep."

"Oh," Bruin rumbled. "Then it is only part of the magic, and you should not worry."

Part of the magic? Beau wondered. "What magic?" he asked.

Bruin shook his giant head. "That is so great a secret that I cannot tell you," he said. It was his standard response to every question he did not want to answer. Beau found it frustrating, but felt it most prudent not to anger his meat-eating host, and so he allowed the subject to drop.

After another month of sleeping with the stranger in his bed, Beau found himself awake far too early one morning, tangled in the other man's arms.

He lay still for a long time, trying to convince himself just to go back to sleep, but Beau's curiosity had been under great strain recently from all of the questions Bruin dodged, and he could not let it rest on this matter.

I'll just take a quick peek with the candle, Beau thought, reaching for it. I won't wake him or ask questions, and no one need ever know. He struck a match and lit the candle, holding it close to the man's face for a better look.

What he previously been shadowed was now clear, and Beau found the stranger to be the most pleasing man that he had ever seen. For a long time he simply stared, wondering what it meant and who the man was. Finally Beau could hold back no longer, and leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to the stranger's lips.

As he did so, the hand that held the candle tipped and allowed three drops of wax to drip onto the bed-shirt of the stranger, who awoke at the sharp pain.

"What have you done?" he cried, pushing Beau away.

Beau looked at him, bewildered. "I am sorry, I can clean-"

"That is not what I meant!" The handsome stranger snapped. "If you had but slept and not looked for a year and a day, then the curse would have been broken!"

"What curse?" Beau asked, still confused.

"My curse!" cried the stranger. "Cursed to be bear by day and man by night, and if the one chosen to break the curse should fail, then I must suffer the consequences." He jumped out of the bed and stormed across the room. Beau followed.

"What consequences?" he asked.

"I must go to the island that is east o' the sun and west o' the moon, and then I will be forced to marry one of the witches who dwells there."

"What can I-" Beau began.

"Nothing!" the stranger said—the stranger who was Bruin. "You brought this upon me, and now I must suffer."

"But-" Beau began as they reached the great hall.

Bruin paused, turning and pulling Beau to him suddenly. He kissed Beau until Beau's head swam with emotions and desires. Then he let go. "Good-bye, Beau," he said, and vanished, along with his castle and everything that was there, until Beau was left standing in an untouched field of snow, wearing the clothing that he had left his father's house with.

--

Beau looked. He searched, traveling far and wide, asking everyone that he met if they could tell him where to find the island that was east o' the sun and west o' the moon, but no one could. Finding himself at last at the edge of a great ocean, Beau sat on the edge of a cliff and looked across the sea, feeling quite sorry for himself, but even worse for the bear upon whom he brought so much trouble.

At last the wind blew next to him, asking what was wrong. "Well," said Beau, and related his tale. "I have looked far and wide for the island that lies east o' the sun and west o' the moon, but so far I have not found anyone who has so much as heard of it."

"I have heard of it," said the West Wind, to whom Beau had just related his story. "But I know not how to get there. Come with me, however, and I will take you to my brother the East Wind, and perhaps he will know the way."

And so Beau climbed aboard the back of the West Wind, who blew them far and wide until they reached a house upon the edge of a great prairie. "East Wind," cried the West Wind, "are you here?" the East Wind answered and blustered his way over to meet his brother and his guest, who explained what had happened, and that Beau needed to find the island that lay east o' the sun and west o' the moon so that he might save his love the bear.

The East Wind said that, while he, too, had heard of the island that lay east o' the sun and west o' the moon, he did not know the way any better than his brother the West Wind. But then he offered to take Beau to meet with their brother the South Wind, for he had blown farther than both of them, and may yet know the way.

And so the East Wind bore Beau far and wide and so on until they reached a house on the top of a tree in the middle of a great forest, whereupon he called for his brother the South Wind.

The South Wind came, but was no more able to help Beau than his brothers. "But," said he, "I shall carry you to our last brother the North Wind, and perhaps he can find you island."

And so Beau climbed onto the back of the South Wind, who carried him wide and far, until they reached a house that was at the top of a snow-covered mountain.

"North Wind?" cried the South Wind, "are you here, brother?"

"What do you want?" snapped the North Wind, not so much as inviting his brother and guest inside and out of the cold.

"We were wondering if you knew the way to the island that lays east o' the sun and west o' the moon," the South Wind said.

"Of course I know the way," the North Wind grumbled. "Why do you wish to know?"

And so they explained Beau's quest to the North Wind.

"You are the lost love Prince Bruin has been whining about?" the North Wind asked.

Beau nodded guiltily.

The North Wind snorted. "He is to choose one of the witches as a bride tonight."

"Oh no!" Beau cried, "Please can't you take me to him?"

The North Wind grumbled. "I suppose, if it will make life more difficult for those witches who are forever trying to get me to work their magic for them, then I can take you to the island that lays east o' the sun and west o' the moon."

Beau was thrilled to here this, and thanked the wind profusely as he climbed onto his back.

They flew. And they flew and they flew and flew and flew. Beau began to wonder if they would ever reach the island in time for him to save his prince, but just as the sun was setting, the island came at last into sight.

"Be careful," the North Wind cautioned before he sped on his way again.

"Thank you!" Beau cried again, though the North Wind was too far gone to hear him by then.

With the fading light of the sun, Beau looked around. The island was barely large enough for a small castle, a scraggly forest, and a large bonfire pit surrounded by a paved circle of stones. As Beau watched, all sorts of creatures began to appear. Some crept out of the forest, a few came from the castle. Still more arrive by boat at the edge of the island and walked up the hill to the fire. Others simply appeared from nowhere, and at least one flew to the ground in the form of a bird before turning into an old lady with a nose like a beak.

There were men and women, young and old, ugly and beautiful, human and not, striking and unmentionable. They cackled and shrieked as they saw each other, though it seemed that fighting had been forbidden on the island.

"Come to try your luck?" asked a small voice from behind Beau. He turned to look, finding gnome with a long beard standing atop a tree stump.

"What do you mean?" Beau asked.

"You are not here to try and win the prince's hand?" the gnome asked.

Beau frowned at him.

"I don't mean any harm by," the gnome continued. "I'm not even here to try myself, I'm just here to watch the fireworks." He pointed at two of the witches, whose hands were beginning to glow blue as they yelled at each other. The others pulled them apart before anything interesting happened, though.

"How will they win his hand?" Beau asked.

The gnome snorted. "They've got to clean a shirt of his," he said, "something about spilt wax and a failure to break his curse."

"Oh," Beau said, remembering the wax he had dripped on that most fateful of nights.

"So," the gnome said, pulling out a pipe and lighting it. "You going to try?"

"Maybe," Beau said, walking towards the circle around the fire, hoping that there were enough people he wouldn't be noticed in the mix.

The revelry continued until midnight, when a bell in the castle tolled the hour, and all the witches gathered around the cauldron over the fire and fell silent. The castle gate opened, and Bruin walked down the short path to the fire circle. He looked around at those present, the fire flickering off of their faces.

Finally Bruin drew himself up as though he might make a speech, but all he said was, "I hate all of you."

The witches laughed as though this was a great joke, and one—an old hag with a particularly shrieking voice demanded his shirt.

Bruin held out the cloth and she snatched it away, dipping it into the cauldron set over the fire. "Ah-hah!" she cackled as she withdrew it, shaking the water out to show that…the spots had grown in size and darkened in color. "What?" she shrieked. "This cannot be!"

She wished to have another go at it, but the other witches shouted that it was one attempt apiece, and a troll pulled the shirt away from her, dipping it into the cauldron himself. He scrubbed quite vigorously, but once he removed the shirt they found that once again the spots were bigger and darker. The troll handed the wet shirt off to another witch with ill grace and stomped off into the woods near where Beau was hovering at the edge of the crowd.

Bruin had watched the troll leave, and now his eyes flicked to Beau, away and back again, widening in realization.

"There is a trick!" the witch who had been washing cried as she threw the shirt at Bruin. It smacked into his chest and drew his attention back to the circle and the contest.

"Yes," Bruin said, catching his shirt before it could fall to the ground. "But I did not put the trick on it." He held the garment out for the next contestant, who also had no luck at washing out the spots.

Witch after troll after giant tried to wash the drops of wax out of Bruin's shirt, but none succeeded, and most had such poor luck that the garment was soon more spot than clean.

Picking up his shirt from the ground where the last witch had thrown it, Bruin shook off some of the dust. "Is this the best that you can do?" he asked the crowd. "The best and the most powerful of the world's witches have gathered here, and this is the best that you can do?" He scoffed, and the witches shuffled their feet or called out to be given their chance.

"Nay," said Bruin. "Let's allow someone from the back of the crowd to have a chance at it. Perhaps someone less pushy will have a better understanding of how to wash a shirt. You!" he cried, pointing directly at Beau. "Let's have you up here to give it a turn."

Beau swallowed his fear and slowly approached the fire and the cauldron of water.

"You think you can clean it where so many of us have failed," jeered one witch as Beau walked past.

"I can try," Beau said. He held out a hand for the shirt. "Please?"

Bruin nodded at him, and handed him the garment.

Worried that it would be impossible for him to wash the shirt as well, Beau carefully dipped it into the cauldron of boiling water, wondering how wounded his hands would be if he tried to wring Bruin's shirt out.

Removing the shirt from the water, Beau was astonished to see that it was nearly pure white in color, all the dirt and spots having vanished. Opening the shirt again, he found that the stains were gone, and so was the wax that had begun this whole adventure.

"There," said Bruin. "The task is done."

"Nooooo," shrieked the witches, as if with one voice, but it was too late as Bruin swept Beau into his arms and the world vanished around them.

Beau opened his eyes again when he was sure that his feet were on solid ground. Looking around, he saw that they were in the courtyard of Bruin's castle, witches, island and fire all left behind and far away.

"Thank you for saving me," Bruin said, tipping Beau's head back. "I thought I might have to marry one of them after all."

Instead of answering, Beau threw his arms around Bruin's neck and pulled him close for a kiss.

And they lived happily ever after until the end of their days.

--

Please understand that this is not a retelling of 'Beauty and the Beast,' despite my use of 'Beau' as Beau's name. This is a retelling of the story "East o'the Sun, West o'the Moon," which is the title story in my most favoritist fairy tale book ever. To be honest, I've always thought 'Beauty and the Beast' was a rip off of 'East o'the Sun, West o'the Moon,' although I'm sure, with fairy tales, that it can go either way.