The Snow Maiden

By Yuri
Takes about eight minutes to tell

Many, many long years ago, in a small Russian village, there once lived an old couple – an old man and his Babushka – his old wife. Though they lived in peace and in comfort, their lives seemed empty and without joy, somehow. You see, they had no children to cheer their passing days.
Then the winter arrived and a carpet of snow was laid on the countryside. The old couple gazed wistfully at the children playing in the snow outside and they were more lonely than ever before.
One day the old man said to his Babushka, “Cheer up, Babushka!” he said, “though God has seen fit not to bless us with children of our own, let us go outside – let us make for ourselves a daughter from the snow – let us make ourselves a Snowmaiden.”
And so, they dressed warmly and they went outside. They gathered the snow and rolled a ball. They fashioned the arms and the legs. Next came the head of snow and the little nose. Finally, the old man placed the eyes and the mouth. And then, my friends, the thing that happened next was so strange and so wonderful, the old couple could never explain it or forget it. For, as they were finishing the Snowmaiden, a stranger journeyed by and with great cheer in his voice, he called out to them. He said: “May heaven bless you, dear friends!”
And they called the spontaneous refrain: “May God bless us all, dear brother!” but when the old couple turned back to their Snowmaiden, a wonderful thing happened – her lips became pink, then red. Her eyes opened – and they moved! Her limbs took shape and her fingers twitched. And when her face took shape, she smiled at the old couple – such a warm, wonderful smile. The snowflakes shook away and she stepped forward – a real, living girl.
The old couple were enchanted and they could not speak. How they embraced and welcomed their long awaited child. And so they led her back to their cottage.
Well, the time passed as it must, and the snow maiden, she grew – not by the day, but by the hour! Her loveliness was a wonder to behold. Her skin was fair as the snow itself. Her hair was russet like the autumn leaves. Sometimes her eyes shone like the raven’s wing or seemed to have no colour at all. She set about her work in the little cottage with great cheer. When she lifted her voice in song, the whole village stopped to hear.
The old couple loved their Snowmaiden with every shred of their being. And so the deep winter came and passed. Yet, with its passing, the Snowmaiden changed. She had become noticeably quiet and sad. Though the old couple fretted for her sake, she assured them all was well. The winter snow melted and the spring flowers burst forth in full splendour.
Yet, the days that passed saw the Snowmaiden grow eveb more quiet and even more sad than ever before. More and more she hid from the sun’s light and she sought out the deep shadows.
One day a wild hailstorm burst its fury over the land and cast the greatest hailstones ever seen. Yet, this seemed to excite the Snowmaiden! She ran around and gathered them up as though they were fine gems. When they melted away, the Snowmaiden sat herself down and wept with great, great bitterness.
The summer followed the spring and her little friends prepared for their woodland games. How eager they were to play and to dance and gather wild berries. They called on the Snowmaiden to join them, but the Snowmaiden held to the shadows. The old couple cheered her on: “Go, dearest one! Enjoy yourself!”
And so she obeyed them and she followed her friends into the forest. And so the children gathers and they danced and the played and they picked their flowers. But the Snowmaiden could not join in – she sat utterly alone and sadder than ever before.
The twilight came and the girls gathered wood for a great bonfire. When the fire was at its fullest, they all took turns to jump over the flames – all except the Snowmaiden – alone, sad and terrified. Soon enough, jer turn came and the others girls pushed her playfully forward. With tears streaming down her pale, lovely cheeks, the Snowmaiden ran to the fire and leapt high above the bright flames. For a moment, there was a sad, sighing hiss and a wisp of mist rose up in the cool night air – and she was gone.
Her friends looked around but the Snowmaiden was nowhere to be seen. They cupped their hands and called out: “Aooo! Snowmaiden! Where are you?”
And all they heard was the echo of their own voices – and far off in the distance, the hooting of an owl … somewhere in the deep, deep forest.

From Swag of Yarns spring 2002