by
Tala Bar
Finbar felt he was lost. For some reason he could not tell, he was striving to climb a mountain, the top of which he had just reached. It had been a slow, uphill walk, the bottom of the valley very gradually getting farther and father away below him. Now, on top of the mountain, the weather was worsening, and all he could think about was finding shelter from the sharp wind and the flurry of snow that had began to fall. Soon, it was plain that the day was leaning toward evening, though the sun had not been seen now for hours. Finbar knew he must find shelter very soon, if he did not want to stay out in the open and freeze to death at night.
The path he was walking on was not even, on both sides the ground rose and some cliffs began to loom above the Minstrel's head. The sight was a little intimidating, as he usually liked to have an open look at the landscape around him; but in this case there was an advantage, as among cliffs it was usually possible to find holes for shelter? He started looking, hoping he would find one big enough for his body to sqeeze in.
He was in luck, for no sooner he started looking that he found a large hole that proved an entrance to a cave. Soon he was inside a relatively warm enclosure, with wide enough floor to spread his blanket, lie down and cover himself with his coat. As he lay, half asleep, scenes from his earlier life came up before his mind's eye.
***
In his youth, finbar was a handsome figure with whom the girls had no qualms spending a night. He was tall and slim, with a shock of dark hair, clear blue-green eyes, long nose and a laughing mouth. His cheeks were rather hollow from never eating enough, but his limbs long and flexible and his gait light and quick. During the years his tall figure bent slightly from carrying the bag on his back for such a long time; and his legs grew slightly heavier with the time that had come to lie on his shoulders: the troubles of all the people he had met, and sometimes his own sorrows to which he had no solution.
Finbar's profession as a minstrel was an expressive cover for a nature that very few people he had met on the road would get to know. Behind the continuous exchange between jolly and sad folk songs and tales of horror and romance, lay a sensitive but also an inquisitive soul; he would not stop his curiosity about the world and about people from acquiring as much knowledge as he could; but, the more he knew the more he felt both the tragedy and the comedy of life. He absorbed everything, expressed it in his lore, but had to fight continually to continue his own life without being crushed under that load of knowledge.
The Minstrel was never a hero. He did not rush into a battle that occurred on his way, thought nothing of running away if there was a good chance for it. But he also was not a coward, and if forced, he would stand his ground and tried to make the best of every situation. In short, Finbar was as a complex being as any other human being, and more so for his very varied way of living.
By that time Finbar was falling into deep darkness, blessed with a very necessary sleep.
***
Something woke him in the middle of the night. The Minstrel lay in the darkness, listening to what he thought should be utter silence. But it was not so. The wind yelled wildly outside, but that was the only sound. Besides this there was something that sounded very much like the howl of some animals. It must have been some nocturnal beast, and Finbar thought they could be jackals. He was not afraid of jackals – they were small animals, usually solitary, and would never attack a human being. But their howl was unsettling, and he wrapped himself even more closely with his coat and tried to close his eyes.
But the howl did not cease. Instead, it sounded as if was getting closer and closer to the cave. The Minstrel thought about the validity of its protection, but was not sure what he should think or feel. His heart began to flutter, his imagination to work overtime; he sat up, but all he could do was stay in his place, and perahps try to pray to all the gods he did not believe in.
The howling sounded stronger and stronger, and at last Finbar was sure the animals were right at the entrance to the cave. He raised his eyes to look, and his heart missed a beat. Uncountable pairs of red eyes appeared at the hole, moving about restlessly, accompanied not only by that eerie howl but also by shieks and roars. Now his teeth shattered, his arms and legs shook violently, and he just sat in his place, waiting for the most horrible of all to happen.
***
Finbar never knew how horrible what happened could be until it did. In a fit of courage, one of the beasts burst into the cave and snapped its teeth at the Minstrel. Soon the others accompanied it, snapping and biting at Finbar's clothes, dragging him outside the cave. They were in such great number he was unable to count, but was sure he would never be able to overcome such an attack. But, being outside was lucky for him, because now he was free from the confines of the cave and was able to run away.
Still, they came after him. There seemed to be droves of them now, filling the space around him, their white bodies mixed with the snow and their black heads with the yellow eyes and the white teeth swarming all over him. They were getting wilder and wilder and, having a clear approach around him, now that he was standing, they started dancing around him, jumping and leaping at the Minstrel. One animal jumped so high it landed on Finbar's shoulder, and a sharp pain ran through his cheek as the jackal bit it. The warm feeling of blood mingled with the cold moisture of the snow on Finbar's face, the pain as sharp as the cold biting at his nerves, making him tremble as he saw red drops falling coloring the white ground. The sight of blood seemed to excite the beasts even more, and now they were pulling his coat, pants and shirt away, getting a clear reach at his body. One of them even leaped on top of his head, removed his hat and started pulling at his hair. Finbar felt completely helpless.
A new sound appeared above that of the wind and the jackals, shrieking in a harsh, half-human voice, "Kill him! Spill his blood!" In front of him loomed a new figure, dancing with the storm and mixing with the snow; it was white all over and could be discerned only by its movement; it was human in shape but much taller, its face as blank as a pile of snow but with a black sheet of hair covering its undefined head. As it screamed, a black hole opened in its blurred face, but unlike the blurred shape the words, repeating again and again, sounded very clear to the Minstrel's ears: "Kill him! Spill his red blood on the white snow! Let's have our sacrifice of Midwinter!"
Without thinking Finbar started running, trying to escape the bites of the jackals and the piercing screeches of the snow figure. He did not know where to run, which way to escape, so he ran blindly into the falling snow, his feet sinking into the soft blanket piling up. He pulled his feet out and continued to run, here and there, with the animals chasing after him, hanging on to his clothes, clinging to his body. In his fright he stopped feeling the pain, though the bites were accumulating by the minute. But the Minstrel could not run far, soon bogged down in the heaps of fresh snow. He fell, and the jackals were on top of him instantly, jumping on his prostrate body, tearing up at his flesh, with the snow figure looming over them with its urgent cries for sacrifice.
As Finbar's red blood sprinkeld on the white snow under the jackals' black heads, strange thoughts loomed inside Finbar's mind between pangs of pain. 'I know this story, it's called Snow-White, but she was a beautiful girl, not a scruffy minstrel. Why is the witch after me and not her? Am I going to die here, a Midwinter sacrifice? Why should it be me?' But the thoughts got more and more confused, as his mind blurred and his body relaxed at last into a deep faint.
***
Finbar woke from his faint into stillness. The wind had calmed down. He raised his head from the pile of snow it was buried in and, as he turned his face, he noticed the jackals standing at a distance from him, watching, as if expecting something awesome to happen. Right in front of him, standing still this time, was the snow figure with her blank face, her black hair streaming down her head. Then he saw that one of her arms was raised, and in it sparkled a shining knife. As she was lowering it down toward Finbar's body, he stirred from his shock; half crouching with bent knees he sprinted up, jumped out of the jackals' circle and started running again for his life. Again he did not know where to run, and soon he stumbled on a rock jutting from under the snow and fell. Before he knew what had happened he was rolling, rolling down the slope of the mountain, on and on with the snow gathering on top and around his body, and like a snowball he rolled, down and down, on and on for endless time. He lost consciousness again, did not know his body was still rolling down the mountain slope, the snow gathering round it more and more until no body was seen at all but an enormous snowball, spinning like a giant wheel down the mountain. It stopped at last, having reached rock bottom. There the pile lay still, with the man inside its belly stunned, unconcious.
***
Finbar woke up, back in the cave he had gone to sleep in. For a moment still wrapped in his fright, he noticed a bright spot breaking the darkness around him, and he realized the sun was shining outside. He rose, stretched, and pondered, while walking carefully towards the entrance to the cave. White stretches of snow spread before his eyes, blinding virginal. He paused. What had happened last night seemed now like a bad but remote dream, to leave behind him as he was preparing for a new day. He realized he was still on the top of the mountain, and he was reflecting on how he should start on his way down. He rubbed his face with some snow, looked round for his bag, put his hat on his head and ventured out of the cave.
“Now, Minstrel,” he heard a young, clear,voice ringing and echoing over the rolling mountain tops around him, “you have reached your peak and it's time for you to be reborn. Come and I'll show you the way.”
With a fluttering heart, recalling the dread of last night again, the Minstrel raised his eyes to meet a wonderful vision. It was another female appartion, but how different.
She was young and trim and very pretty, with shining black hair, brilliant pale complexion and blood red lips, smiling at him, revealing pearly white teeth. A veritable Snow-White, he thought, just like the fairy tale he had sung many times to his thrilled audience.
“Are you also invovled in this story?” he asked, feeling his last night's adventure not quite finished yet. "You know," he added, scrutinizing her closely, "I don't know how but you really remind me of that horrible figure who had demanded my sacrifice on top of the mountain."
"Well," the girl admitted, "she is a relative. You humans call her my stepmother, but actually she is my granny."
"I don't understand," Finbar said, weakly. His knees buckled and he sat on the ground, ignoring its wetness.
"It's not always necessary to understand, as long as you tell a good story. But come, now!” she said again, stretching her hand to him. Speachless, he took her hand, feeling it was his only way out. They started walking down the mountain, and it was a strange walk. Their feet seemed to float over the piles of snow and the bolders jutting out of them. Gradually, the snow was left behind and they were half-stepping on wet soil, still not affected by the mud. As they continued down, the ground became covered with fresh, green grass, then flowers peeped everywhere in all their glorious colors and shades.
They stopped at last, when reaching a level ground, and a road that stretched at the foot of the mountain. “That's where I leave you, to go on your way. I am really glad you survived your ordeal, and now you can enjoy your own revival, with the rest of the world.”
The Minstrel was not going to let the girl go without more questions, more clarifications, but he had no chance. Right before his glaring eyes she was melting into a colorful mist, as if being absorbed into the whole blossoming world.
For a long time Finbar just stood there, at the foot of the mountain, until he recover. At last, with a cheerful heart, even though still mystified, he took to the road again, looking for the next village where he could stop among humans and present his ware of songs and tales.
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