The True Story of "The Three Billy Goats Gruff"

Another from my Brit lit class in high school; 2,470 words.

Now, I know you’ve heard about the ‘poor Gruff brothers’ and the whole ‘once upon a time’... well ‘once upon a time’ my rumpe!  I mean, by Thor’s hammer, it really  sets my teeth a’grindin’, especially the way  that everyone gets it wrong!  Everyone always says that I’m such an evil troll.  Sounds more like Hugin and Munin’s gossiping.  Anyway, those little ånder weren’t the victims here.  I was!  This story should just be banned from ever being told!  If you’re going to tell a story, tell it right.  Which is exactly what I’m going to do now.

Let’s start at the beginning... my beginning.  My name is Arneot, which means “frightens eagles”.  Eagles are the mightiest of the skies, and I frightened them because power emanated, seeped, poured from me.  I was the wealthiest nobleman in the land (what is now Flora, Norway), with a castle atop rolling, mountainous pastures of the most emerald hues that could be seen from far into the sea and from far inland.  My reign was known throughout the Seven Great Kingdoms, sju store riker, and I was a just king.  I never worked my people too hard, nor did I ask for the unreasonable each season.  Funny thing, though, was that I wasn’t born into the nobility.

My parents used to work for the former king, Horvath Gruff, my father in his military and my mother as a lady in waiting (they had met by chance that way, but that is a different story) to the queen, Rowan.  They were both very close to the whole royal family in many ways.  Freylah, my mother, was renowned for her extraordinary textile manipulations and weaving, and my father, Kvasiri was infamous for his metal smithing and excellent fighting abilities.  When the queen grew ill, King Horvath called upon my parents to be there in their time of need.  The queen passed from a mysterious illness that night, and Horvath sunk into himself, all the joy and light was leeched from him.  How this relates to me, you might ask?  Well, in short, the king died a week or so later from a broken heart, the kingdom crumbled, and on his death bed he bequeathed his whole life’s work--the whole kit-kat-kaboodle--to my parents.  And more importantly, his three sons and daughter.  My parents ruled well, better than the former king and queen (may Odin bless them).  I was twelve at the time, and the royal sons were twelve, eight, and six, and their sister was eleven.  We had all gotten to be good friends, and we played often.

Fifteen years have passed since then.  For only the last five have I ruled, as my parents had been murdered in their sleep some years back, and I still hunt for their killer.  I had taken Iounn, the princess, as my wife.  Her brothers and I lost contact sometime after our marriage; I don’t believe they wholly approved.  We had been trying to have a child for a while now, but after several physicians’ conclusions, we finally accepted that she was barren.  I know it pained her deeply to accept this, and I hated seeing her in this state.  So one night, I set out to the dungeon.  For the moment, there were no prisoners, but ever since I was little, it filled me with foreboding, especially at night.  The torch I had taken from the staircase flickered, making shadows leap and dance about the walls.  I walked down the long hall, my gaze constantly shifting.  I came to the end of the passageway, and to the cell I wanted.  The flame went out without so much as a smoke trail; there was no draft present.  I saw a figure in the corner, hunched over itself, its back to me.

“I-” was all I got out.

“I know why you are here, fool!  You wish to spawn a little palace brat, hm?  And with that dirty b***h too.” A cruel cackle escaped from the figure, echoing off the cell walls.  It dissolved into a hacking that wracked the little form, leaving it trembling.  It started to unfold, finally standing.  It shook out its rags, making sure its filth was in order and fixed its sparse, lank hair.  Chains bound the prisoner by its neck, wrists, and ankles; the movement made their bonds moan and shriek.  The figure turned around, and started trudging toward the cell door, its chains dragging.  Mumbling aloud, “And why not with me, eh?  I’m prettier, more powerful, wiser, and not...” it had reached the door, and long, knobby fingers clenched the bars, and it finished in a soft whisper that drew me closer, “barren.”

When the word was said, the torch relit, shedding light on the bound creature.  I took a step back, wondering how it could have possibly become uglier than it already was.  The flames reflected off of sallow, waxy skin, so taut over the bones that threatened to break through.  It was as tall as I was, though it was hunched from years of confinement.  The wooden door and stone walls prevented the rest of the wretch from being seen, but I knew what lay on the other side: bones stacked on one another under translucent skin; its very veins could be seen, slowly pumping its thick, dark blood.  A holey rag was all that was left of a skirt, and a slightly bigger, equally tattered rag made some semblance to a shirt.  The big, glassy eyes were the worst of it, and reflected nothing but darkness.

“You know I want a child.” I boldly said.

“You know what I require.  Only once it needs to be said, and you will have your wish.”

I struggled with the name, feeling the bile rise up with it.  Choking it down, I spit out the creature’s name: “Gullveig.”

“Ahhhh now was that so hard?” she taunted.  She became a bit healthier with the name, and her voice grew stronger, if more irritated, “Now leave me be.  You will have a year and a day with your child before my payment.”  With that, she went back to her corner and muttered to herself, but not before I heard: “and until you break the curse.”

I plodded back up the stairs, suddenly drained, and slowly made my way to my wife.  I collapsed into bed, and slept fitfully.

The next morning, I awoke to find Iounn in front of the mirror, marveling herself.  I get up to see if all is well.  “Dear, is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes, I do believe so...” she said in a daze.  She turned to me then, her violet eyes big, and added, “We’re going to have a child.”

The next nine months were a blur of preparation and planning, organizing and redecorating...she of course led the proceedings while I carried them out to her liking.  The day came on All Hallows Eve, when little Mira was born into the world.  From her icy blue-grey eyes to the little tufts of black on her head, we loved her with all our hearts, and so did the kingdom.  She grew up well, but we taught her the values of both worlds: the one she was born into, and the one on the other side of the castle walls.  She, even at a year old by now, knew the basics of right and wrong, her letters and some numbers.  Her first word, right on the year mark, was “dada”, and shortly after, “mama”.  It brought tears to both of our eyes, to know that this little being would grow to be intelligent, brave, and knowledgeable of the world, making good decisions.  When the time came that Iounn and I would leave to be with the gods, our kingdom would be in good hands.

I had sent for her uncles that day, and the first to arrive was Tait Gruff, the youngest and happiest, of the trio.  He had sandy hair with twinkling, green eyes, set in a boyish face atop a young man’s build, slightly shorter than me but still taller than Iounn.  He welcomed Mira into the world and became the model uncle.  His brothers, Gunnolf and Sigurthr Gruff, respectively, came as well, though they were less enthusiastic than their brother.  Gunnolf was taller than I, with wild auburn hair and matching eyes.  He was lean and wiry, and always had a cautious and aloof sense about him, like that of a wolf.  Sigurthr, the eldest, was the tallest and burliest of the three, with his barrel chest and wide shoulders to his blond locks and beard.  Though it was his piercing black eyes that held you the most.  

Dinner was amiable enough: Tait would tell story after story, becoming more animated each time, and kept us laughing, and after a piece of wit, Gunnolf deflated it with a well-placed comment, but was otherwise watching warily; Sigurther, never being one to talk, simply sat stoically and hardly ate; Mira laughed her tinkling tune, which made us all laugh even harder.  After dinner was over, we all excused ourselves from the table, and retired to our rooms.  Walking back to our chamber, I told my wife I had to check on the horses because I thought I heard their whinnying.  In truth, I felt a deep, angry pain in my body, and I didn’t want her to see that.

I fled, past the stables, to the outskirts of the kingdom, where I fell to my knees by the small brook.  My body contorted, bones shifted, muscles crying out in agony while I could not, so bad was the pain.  I heard three sets of footfalls approaching, so I hid under the bridge.  The pain started to ease, and I looked into the water...big mistake.  I had grown tusks, and my face and body were grotesquely bloated and sickly green.  Warts and boils covered me, my eyes becoming small and beady, nothing like the deep emerald-blue they used to be.  I roared in despair, wondering if I should ever return to my wife and child.  The footsteps thundered onto the bridge, then halted, whispering to one another.  After really thinking about it, I knew they were the Gruff brothers.  But the click-click click-click of the shoes brought to my ghoulish mind a goat, and I started to hunger for it.  I swung myself up onto the bridge, and faced the brothers.  I tried to explain what had happened, but all that came out of my misshapen mouth was something akin to a dying pig’s last bleat.  I saw them draw their weapons at the grating sound.  Tait started forward, and asked in a kind voice, “Great beast, may I cross your bridge?”  It sounded absurd coming from him, but I let him pass.

Gunnolf pierced me with his gaze, and I let him pass without a word.  Sigurthr was next, and I barred his path.  We may have been friends at one time, long ago, but he had never come when I needed his help in the past, nor to anything even for Iounn, his own sister.  His voice rumbled, “I will kill you, you b*****d.  Only Arneot would let my brothers pass and not me, so you must be him.  I never really liked you anyway.  You have been a thorn in my side for the longest time, and Iounn could have chosen so much better.  You were never meant to have my father’s kingdom!  You aren’t his blood!  I was!” he screeched, but continued in a deadly calm voice.  “Then you brought that goddamn wench into the world.”  I stared blankly at him, seeing only a pathetic, sniveling goat in my path: a snack.  “At least now you live up to your name.  You truly frighten eagles with your hideousness.  Oh, and I’m sure you were wondering, but I murdered your parents.” He sneered at me, and that was the last straw.  I, and Mira, needed peace in this world, and it would not happen with him around.  I crouched, ready to spring.  He tightened his grip on the double swords.  A bird let out a call deep into the forest, and that was our signal.

He leapt at me, swinging the two blades.  I moved away, quickly enough to not receive much harm, but slow enough to still get a gash on my leg.  I let out a grunt, and tore part of the bridge railing off, using it like a club, and swung it at him.  He was fast, but not fast enough.  One of his swords flew into the brook, impaling a rock.  He whirled, his eyes like hot, black coals.  He became reckless in his rage, and swung his remaining sword, connecting it with my side.  He pushed it into my side until the hilt hit my ribcage, and I howled in pain.  Tait tried to come and help, but Gunnolf placed a calm hand on his shoulder, effectively holding him back.  Sigurthr grinned evilly at me, and I calmly smiled back.  His resolve wavered, sensing what I would do next.  He tried to get the sword out of his side, but my meaty hand prevented it.  My other hand reached toward his head; he was frozen in fear, his eyes wide.  My hand wrapped around his head softly, and I felt emotion and memories flood through us.  Us playing, riding our horses, having fun.  His eyes took on a glazed look, a small smile on his face.

I snapped his neck.  

I gently laid him down, the peaceful look still on his face.  I took the weapon out of my side with a heavy sigh, and crumpled to the ground.  My body started shifting again, and I became smaller, my skin returning to a healthy glow, if tired and beaten up.  I folded into myself, shivering from the cold and exertion, clutching my side.  Already, to my surprise, it started to heal, and I knew, because of the witch, I would live until our deal was fulfilled.  After that, there were no guarantees.

Looking behind me, I saw Tait and Gunnolf watching me.  When I regained my strength, I asked if they wanted to kill me for killing their brother.  Tait hugged me like a brother would, and Gunnolf simply grunted, saying that he would be there if needed, then melted into the forest.  They were both kindred, loyal spirits.  We walked back to the castle together, greeting the morning sun that shined on a new era, and calmly made our way back to our beds.  Collapsing into the sheets so as not to wake Iounn, I could hear the unearthly rattling of the witch Gullveig, and knew our business was not done quite yet.