The Marsh King's Daughter Page #11

"The Marsh King's Daughter" is a captivating story by Hans Christian Andersen that draws the reader into a world of Norse mythology and ancient Egypt. The story revolves around a Marsh King who kidnaps a princess and has a child with her named Helga. Helga, who is beautiful by day but horrible at night, sets upon a journey of transformation. With compelling themes of love and redemption, the story encapsulates the struggle of good versus evil through the life of Helga and her journey to find her true self. It is a tale filled with symbolism, fantasy, and vivid imagery characteristic of Hans Christian Andersen's works.

• Children

								

arrival of the health-giving flower as a mighty event, which had
been a blessing to the house and the land. Meanwhile, the stork-papa
told the story to his family in his own way; but not till they had
eaten and were satisfied; otherwise they would have had something else
to do than to listen to stories.

"Well," said the stork-mamma, when she had heard it, "you will
be made something of at last; I suppose they can do nothing less."

"What could I be made?" said stork-papa; "what have I done?--just
nothing."

"You have done more than all the rest," she replied. "But for
you and the youngsters the two young princesses would never have
seen Egypt again, and the recovery of the old man would not have
been effected. You will become something. They must certainly give you
a doctor's hood, and our young ones will inherit it, and their
children after them, and so on. You already look like an Egyptian
doctor, at least in my eyes."

"I cannot quite remember the words I heard when I listened on
the roof," said stork-papa, while relating the story to his family;
"all I know is, that what the wise men said was so complicated and
so learned, that they received not only rank, but presents; even the
head cook at the great house was honored with a mark of distinction,
most likely for the soup."

"And what did you receive?" said the stork-mamma. "They
certainly ought not to forget the most important person in the affair,
as you really are. The learned men have done nothing at all but use
their tongues. Surely they will not overlook you."

Late in the night, while the gentle sleep of peace rested on the
now happy house, there was still one watcher. It was not stork-papa,
who, although he stood on guard on one leg, could sleep soundly. Helga
alone was awake. She leaned over the balcony, gazing at the
sparkling stars that shone clearer and brighter in the pure air than
they had done in the north, and yet they were the same stars. She
thought of the Viking's wife in the wild moorland, of the gentle
eyes of her foster-mother, and of the tears she had shed over the poor
frog-child that now lived in splendor and starry beauty by the
waters of the Nile, with air balmy and sweet as spring. She thought of
the love that dwelt in the breast of the heathen woman, love that
had been shown to a wretched creature, hateful as a human being, and
hideous when in the form of an animal. She looked at the glittering
stars, and thought of the radiance that had shone forth on the
forehead of the dead man, as she had fled with him over the woodland
and moor. Tones were awakened in her memory; words which she had heard
him speak as they rode onward, when she was carried, wondering and
trembling, through the air; words from the great Fountain of love, the
highest love that embraces all the human race. What had not been won
and achieved by this love?

Day and night beautiful Helga was absorbed in the contemplation of
the great amount of her happiness, and lost herself in the
contemplation, like a child who turns hurriedly from the giver to
examine the beautiful gifts. She was over-powered with her good
fortune, which seemed always increasing, and therefore what might it
become in the future? Had she not been brought by a wonderful
miracle to all this joy and happiness? And in these thoughts she
indulged, until at last she thought no more of the Giver. It was the
over-abundance of youthful spirits unfolding its wings for a daring
flight. Her eyes sparkled with energy, when suddenly arose a loud
noise in the court below, and the daring thought vanished. She
looked down, and saw two large ostriches running round quickly in
narrow circles; she had never seen these creatures before,--great,
coarse, clumsy-looking birds with curious wings that looked as if they
had been clipped, and the birds themselves had the appearance of
having been roughly used. She inquired about them, and for the first
time heard the legend which the Egyptians relate respecting the
ostrich.

Once, say they, the ostriches were a beautiful and glorious race
of birds, with large, strong wings. One evening the other large
birds of the forest said to the ostrich, "Brother, shall we fly to the
river to-morrow morning to drink, God willing?" and the ostrich
answered, "I will."

With the break of day, therefore, they commenced their flight;
first rising high in the air, towards the sun, which is the eye of
God; still higher and higher the ostrich flew, far above the other
birds, proudly approaching the light, trusting in its own strength,
and thinking not of the Giver, or saying, "if God will." When suddenly
the avenging angel drew back the veil from the flaming ocean of
sunlight, and in a moment the wings of the proud bird were scorched
and shrivelled, and they sunk miserably to the earth. Since that
time the ostrich and his race have never been able to rise in the air;
they can only fly terror-stricken along the ground, or run round and
round in narrow circles. It is a warning to mankind, that in all our
thoughts and schemes, and in every action we undertake, we should say,
"if God will."

Then Helga bowed her head thoughtfully and seriously, and looked
at the circling ostrich, as with timid fear and simple pleasure it
glanced at its own great shadow on the sunlit walls. And the story
of the ostrich sunk deeply into the heart and mind of Helga: a life of
happiness, both in the present and in the future, seemed secure for
her, and what was yet to come might be the best of all, God willing.

Early in the spring, when the storks were again about to journey
northward, beautiful Helga took off her golden bracelets, scratched
her name on them, and beckoned to the stork-father. He came to her,
and she placed the golden circlet round his neck, and begged him to
deliver it safely to the Viking's wife, so that she might know that
her foster-daughter still lived, was happy, and had not forgotten her.

"It is rather heavy to carry," thought stork-papa, when he had
it on his neck; "but gold and honor are not to be flung into the
street. The stork brings good fortune--they'll be obliged to
acknowledge that at last."

"You lay gold, and I lay eggs," said stork-mamma; "with you it
is only once in a way, I lay eggs every year But no one appreciates
what we do; I call it very mortifying."

"But then we have a consciousness of our own worth, mother,"
replied stork-papa.

"What good will that do you?" retorted stork-mamma; "it will
neither bring you a fair wind, nor a good meal."

"The little nightingale, who is singing yonder in the tamarind
grove, will soon be going north, too." Helga said she had often
heard her singing on the wild moor, so she determined to send a
message by her. While flying in the swan's plumage she had learnt
the bird language; she had often conversed with the stork and the
swallow, and she knew that the nightingale would understand. So she
begged the nightingale to fly to the beechwood, on the peninsula of
Jutland, where a mound of stone and twigs had been raised to form
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