Charlotta Lutz, Folktales Collected

[GothicProtagonist]

☾hapter One: Luthier’s Craft

Once upon a time there was a Luthier, who lived in a small cottage with his beautiful wife. His craft was unmatched, and known all across -Kartakass. Some people even claimed the Luthier could make instruments which played on their own. Those rumors finally reached the ears of the Meistersinger, who summoned the Luthier to his court. With a heavy heart, the Luthier left his wife to answer the Meistersinger’s call.

When he arrived, the Luthier noticed black flags hung from the windows in town. Nobody would laugh or smile, and even birds abandoned their sweet chirping in favor of a morose dirge.

‘Why is everyone so sad?’ The Luthier asked the Guard of the town.

The Guard just shook his head sadly. ‘Our Meistersinger’s Bride died on the day of their wedding. He’s been inconsolable ever since.’

The Luthier nodded and asked to be taken to the Meistersinger himself. When he was led to his bedchamber, the Luthier bowed deeply before the saddened man.

‘I have a grand task for you, master Luthier.’ Said the Meistersinger. ‘The tales of your craft are legendary. They say that the instruments you make play on their own. Is that true?’

‘My Lord, I am no miracle-maker, just a simple craftsman. ‘The Luthier said modestly. ‘Still, I shall not refuse any request from you.’

‘Master Luthier, every night I long for my Bride’s voice. Take her body and make it into the finest lute, so I might hear it again.’

‘My Lord’ The Luthier said, frightened by the idea. ‘I cannot do what you ask of me.’

That angered the Meistersinger, who ordered his guards to throw the Luthier into a cell, with his Bride’s body and tools. For weeks Luthier refused to give in, yet when the Guard stopped bringing him food, the man was forced to yield and accept the Meistersinger’s request.

The Luthier spent months in the Meistersinger’s prison, carefully working on the Bride’s body. As the last day of Spring came, the Luthier finished his work. The lute was made of the Bride’s breastbone and strung with her golden locks. It was Luthier’s finest creation, yet as much as he tried, how hard he struck the strings, it would not play for him. The Luthier reluctantly presented the Meistersinger with the instrument, fearing the man would order his death for failing fulfill this macabre request. To his surprise, as soon as the ruler took the instrument, the lute started to play on its own.

On day the Bride I was to be,
Roses and daisies and water’s gleam,
The joy of life was torn from me
Their petals carried by the stream,

My love’s tears were so bitter,
Roses and daisies and water’s gleam
But Choir’s voice grew sweeter,
Their petals carried by the stream,

With Choir I knew no fear,
Roses and daisies and water’s gleam
There was only mirth and cheer,
Their petals carried by the stream,

But now my all cheer is gone,
Roses and daisies and water’s gleam
The fanged angels have come,
Their petals carried by the stream,

As they chase me so I cry,
Roses and daisies and water’s gleam
My love, why won’t you let me die?
Their petals carried by the stream.

The Meistersinger wept, realizing what he has done - for now his Bride was doomed to be forever chased by ghosts, never to know rest. Unable to bear his guilt, the Meistersinger threw himself out from the window, lute in hand.

And the fanged angels followed.

'Do not long for those who have passed on.' The old woman said. 'They are the lucky ones after all.'