One day at church, my friend Brittany Dean who was studying to be a nurse said that if I wrote a story about her she would put it on her fridge, as long as it wasn't creepy. I wanted to fulfill her wish but didn't know if I could live up to that kind of pressure. I procrastinated for a few months. Then one evening, quite by chance, I found this story that suited her perfectly and was better than anything I could have written. I passed it off to her as my own and she loved it.
Brittany and the Bear
[Alternate Titles: Beauty and the Bear, Brittany and the Beast, Brittany the Beauty and the Bear Who Was Blatantly a Breed of Beast]
Shared By C. Randall Nicholson
Once upon a long time ago, in a continent far, far away, there was a magical land called Calatia ruled over by a beloved princess named Brittany. Calatia had actually been a democratic republic, but the people unanimously voted to make Brittany a princess because she was beautiful and kind and had the power to make small woodland creatures accompany her in songs that she composed and sang on the spot. Because there was no king or queen, this made her the de facto ruler of the country, a role she held sacred and fulfilled with liberty and justice for all.
On Brittany's eighteenth birthday, a sorceress paid her a visit in the castle that the citizens had volunteered their time and labor to build for her. “Hold it,” the events planner who filled in for the nonexistent castle security today said, stopping her at the gate. “As much as our beloved princess would love to let everyone in, this building does have a finite capacity and there are fire codes and stuff. Who, may I ask, are you?”
“I'm Brit's second cousin, Betty,” the sorceress said.
“Yeah?” The events planner squinted and tried to get a closer look under her long cloak's heavy hood. “She's never mentioned you before.”
“She thinks I'm dead,” the sorceress said. “It's been weighing on her heart for years and she doesn't like to talk about it. She'll be overjoyed to see me, unless, of course, I don't get in for some reason.” She raised an eyebrow.
The events planner quickly ushered her inside with the other two thousand guests.
The throne room was humble as far as throne rooms go, and Brittany didn't spend too much time in it besides her obligatory media appearances. She preferred her cozier bedroom or study. The plain stone walls were decorated with several banners of Calatia's coat of arms. Dressed in a simple pink dress with her long brown hair pulled back behind her perky round face, Brittany herself gazed out from a throne that the people had built for her themselves. It was lopsided and hurt to sit on, but it's the thought that counts.
Each guest got a chance to speak with the princess for fifteen seconds, which took well over eight hours. Brittany was exhausted, but perked up nonetheless when the last one, the sorceress, approached her. The whole throne room fell silent and everyone strained to hear the mysterious woman; she just had that sort of charisma despite being at least fifty.
“Dearest Brittany, you have been a good and wise ruler,” she said in an aged yet firm voice. “But you're already eighteen, and you're not getting any younger. You must choose a husband so you can continue your lineage.”
“Oh, come on,” Brittany said with a pout. “Can't I keep enjoying the party life for a few years?” The crowd gasped at her audacity.
“Well, I suppose so,” the sorceress said. “In that case, I will bestow upon you a magical gift to aid you in your life and career. What would you like? I know you will choose something good and wholesome.”
Jackpot, Brittany thought. She already knew what to ask for. “I have always felt such love and compassion for the people I see suffering around me,” she said. “As you know, health care in this era is almost as deadly as the diseases and injuries themselves, and we think mental illness is caused by demons that need to be tortured out. I wish to become the greatest healer Calatia, no, the world has ever known, so that I might ease this suffering more effectively.”
The sorceress bowed her head. “You have not disappointed me,” she said. “I have but one warning. You already have the power to make small woodland creatures accompany you in songs that you compose and sing on the spot. If you become too powerful, you may find yourself making enemies for the first time in your life.”
“That's a risk I'll have to take,” Brittany said. “Nothing worthwhile ever comes without risk, unless you inherit it.”
“Then it is done,” the sorceress said, waving her hands. “From this moment on, for as long as you continue to brush and floss regularly, your already radiant smile will have the power to magically heal the afflictions of all who look upon it.”
“Thank you,” Brittany said. “You're a nice sorceress. Won't you please stay for some cake?” She gestured to the northeast corner of the room, where a chocolate cake stretched up to the vaulted ceiling and out wider than most people's houses.
“I'd love to,” the sorceress said, “but I'm allergic to gluten.”
“I can fix that,” Brittany said, and smiled, dimples framing her pearly white teeth. The sorceress ate two pieces of cake without getting a stomachache, and all who witnessed it rejoiced at the miracle that had occurred.
~~~
Brittany wasted no time going up and down the Calatian countryside healing all she passed. Some were missing limbs, some had smallpox, and some were haunted by unresolved resentment toward their parents, but whatever the malady, Brittany fixed it with her magic smile. This was the greatest medical advancement since the invention of vaccines centuries later. Better, even, since her smiles didn't cause autism.
[Ed. note: This is a poor attempt at a joke. Neither the author nor anyone associated with this publication nor anyone with a functioning brain believes that vaccines cause autism.]
In one typical example, she healed a baby girl who was stricken with diphtheria and hours from death. The baby was crying and whimpering quietly on the floor of a little peasants' hut while her parents and older siblings remained a safe distance away and covered their mouths. Brittany got the baby to look at her, then smiled, and moments later the baby's swelling went down and the proper color returned to her skin. Another moment later she was giggling and cooing.
Brittany smiled again, this time merely because she was happy. “Who's the cutest widdle patient?” she said, playing with the baby's toes. “Yes you are! Yes you are!”
Eventually she had to get home. She straightened up, smiled at the rest of the family as a preventative measure, and let herself out with no fanfare.
The father chased after her. He had seemed to be at a loss for words, but now they came gushing out. “We can never repay you for saving our baby girl,” he said, prostrating himself on the ground. “We had no help left. Sir Gilbert was no help at all, and even if we could have gotten to a physician, I doubt he could have done anything. You'll never know how grateful we are...”
Brittany was uncomfortable receiving such praise and recognition for what she felt was merely her duty to the world. “I'm uncomfortable receiving such praise and recognition for what I feel is merely my duty to the world,” she said. “But thank you for saying thank you. I wish your family the best.” With that, she went home to order a pizza and binge-read a series of gritty crime scrolls.
So it went day after day, and so of course she quickly became even more beloved by her people – all of them, that is, except for the executives of pharmaceutical and health insurance companies.
~~~
One particularly unscrupulous creature who screwed his customers whenever he could get away with it, which was most of the time, was enraged at the prospect of having to find an honest job or give up one of his yachts. Sir Gilbert, a fancy-dressed man with a greasy black mustache and goatee that made him somewhat resemble a snake-oil Shakespeare, had voted for Princess Brittany like everyone else, but only because he assumed she was too young and stupid to challenge the status quo. He discovered to his chagrin that he was wrong.
Sir Gilbert called his Board of Directors together and demanded that they do something about this impudent young woman who was ruining his business. “I demand that you do something about this impudent young woman who's ruining my business!” he bellowed, thumping a fist on the hand-carved mahogany table in the meeting room.
The directors looked at each other nervously. The boldest one spoke up. “But, sir,” he said, “what do you expect us to do? It's not like we can just kill her or anything.”
Sir Gilbert's face lit up. “That's it!” he said.
Emboldened by his change of mood, another director spoke up. “Even better, sir, she is in need of a husband, at least to the degree that any of the few women with the means and opportunities to survive on their own in this culture can be in need of a husband. Why not marry her first and then take over the kingdom when she's gone?”
Sir Gilbert considered the suggestion for a moment, then waved it off. “Too much responsibility,” he said. “Instead let's transition Calatia back into a democratic republic and then bribe our representatives to pass the legislation we want.”
“But surely bribery would be illegal,” the director protested.
Sir Gilbert grinned and enumerated on his fingers. “Three words: special interest group. And don't call me Shirley.”
The Board of Directors unanimously agreed, and not just because he would behead them if they didn't. So he hired one of Calatia's deadliest assassins to assassinate the princess. That very evening, the assassin climbed her castle wall and snuck into the study where she was reading a book on hydroponics to broaden her mind. He drew his weapon, but when he saw her in the light of the fireplace, he was so overwhelmed by her beauty that he ran away, went to church, repented, and decided to go into landscape design.
Brittany looked up from her book. She thought she had heard something, but nobody was around. She went back to her book.
So it was with every assassin Sir Gilbert hired. He could have probably circumvented the whole obstruction by hiring a female assassin, of course, but sexism was ingrained into most facets of society in this era, including the assassin industry. And even if he could have found a female assassin, his own principles wouldn't allow it. So after the fifteenth failed attempt he was forced to bide his time and simmer with rage in the shadows. He also wrote a scathing newspaper editorial about Brittany, but it didn't seem to accomplish anything.
Then, one evening, he read a Timmy Kimmel interview with a sorceress who claimed to have been the source of Brittany's healing power. He decided to pay this sorceress a little visit.
~~~
One day, about three years after acquiring her healing power, Princess Brittany was walking in the woods near her castle, humming the tune of a bawdy drinking song she couldn't get out of her head and didn't understand because it was in Latin. The birds and the squirrels and the crickets joined in, creating a harmony that future generations of music historians would come to describe as “totally epic”. She didn't know why she was walking this way – she just followed her inner compass, almost a still, small voice of sorts.
Then she stumbled upon something that made her voice falter and her animal friends scurry away. A grizzly bear lay in the underbrush with five arrows sticking out of its back. She thought at first that it was dead, but she could see its chest heaving slightly as it clung to its final vestiges of life. Its eyes fluttered open, and it looked straight at her, seeming to plead silently for help.
Brittany knew that carnivorous animals were inherently wicked because of the way they were born. She knew that if she healed this one, it would probably rip her face off with one swipe. But her heart was too big for her own good, and she couldn't stand to watch it suffer, and she couldn't bring herself to put it out of its misery.
She smiled.
The arrows disintegrated, the wound closed, and the bear sprang to its feet. “Thank you for helping me,” it said in a strangely familiar voice that revealed it to be female. “I'm smarter than the average bear, and thus capable of feeling gratitude.”
This startled Brittany. She was not accustomed to hearing animals speak, and wondered at first if this was an effect of the strange mushrooms she had found earlier. The last animal she had heard speak was a frog who had asked her to kiss him. She had asked if he was a prince under a curse, and he had said no, he just wanted her to kiss him. She had appreciated his honesty enough to grant his request.
“Er, you're welcome,” she said. Her face was still intact. She decided not to press her luck, and slowly backed away.
“My name is Alaina,” the bear continued. “A hunter got me, and I would have died if you hadn't shown up. I almost couldn't bear the pain. Get it?” Fortunately, this pun worked because Calatian was exactly like English, albeit the small payoff wasn't really worth it.
Yet Brittany smiled in spite of herself. “Yes, very clever.”
“It's all right, though, I got him before I collapsed here. I ripped his face off with one swipe. Wanna see?”
“No, thank you.” Feeling uneasy again, Brittany curtsied. “Well, it was very nice to meet you, Alaina, but I'm afraid I must be going.”
“Wherever you're going, I can get you there faster!” Alaina said. “Because you saved my life, from now on, I will be your noble steed. And if anybody messes with you – whammo! If you catch my drift.”
“Ah,” Brittany said, “that's very thoughtful of you, but I'm afraid I just don't have a saddle big enough.”
“Oh no, sweetie,” Alaina said, “you don't need a saddle to ride bearback.”
Brittany laughed. “You make a compelling argument,” she said. With a shrug, she climbed on the back of her new friend and they set off for her castle. She felt more free and lighthearted than she had in years, as the wind blew through her hair and Alaina's fur tickled her legs.
She had never noticed the assassins, and they had stopped some time ago. And if she had and they hadn't, one would think that having a grizzly bear as an ally would prove quite advantageous in dealing with them. But Brittany was a firm pacifist. She could never bring herself to harm a living thing, which was why she only ate meat that had been prepared by somebody else and tried not to think about where it came from. But if it came down to it, she would lay down her life rather than strike a blow in self-defense.
~~~
Brittany and Alaina became fast friends and, because Alaina was surprisingly averse to sleeping outside, roommates. “I promise to earn my keep,” Alaina said. “I'm a hard worker. Now I know what you're thinking, but when I'm given responsibilities I always go above and beyond the bear minimum.”
“Fabulous,” Brittany said.
Alaina had all kinds of crazy ideas for how to spend their free time. “Picture this: two vigilantes who enforce justice where the law fears to tread,” she said one day. “Our opposite personalities would complement each other during interrogations. You know, the old 'good knight, bad knight' routine.”
Brittany pretended to seriously consider the suggestion. “I don't think I need any help enforcing justice,” she said. “Things are pretty quiet in Calatia.”
“Yeah? How do you quell rebellions, punish murderers, thwart illegal parchment copying, that sort of thing?”
“I just say 'Please' at the beginning of every royal decree,” Brittany said, “and the people do what I ask because they love me and want me to be happy.”
“Hahaha! I bet they do! Seriously though.” Alaina stared until she realized the princess wasn't joking. “Right then.”
Brittany often rode her new steed to the marketplace where all the little children fawned over them both. She instructed Alaina not to talk around anybody else because that would draw undue attention from unscrupulous tourists wanting to sell her to a theater or a menagerie. Alaina said, “Duh.”
One day about two months later, Brittany was watching the clouds and flicking pennies into a fountain while Alaina tap-danced on her hind legs and juggled squashes. Alaina wanted to juggle pumpkins so she could drop one and say it was a squash now, but they had a shortage that year. Most of the children gathered around her, but one shy boy named Reginald was splashing around in the fountain next to Brittany. Shy, meaning that he got nervous around massive predators with sharp teeth and claws. Nobody's perfect.
“Do you remember me?”
It took Brittany a moment to realize he was talking to her. “Hm? Have we met?”
“I was little back then,” Reginald said. “You healed my little sister when she had diphtheria. My parents were so worried. Our health insurance company refused to cover it, even though our contract said they had to, and my parents said we didn't have time to waste in the appeals courts dealing with those stupid – well, they told me not to repeat those words, but anyway, they didn't have time. You were a savior to us. And you didn't even charge us anything.”
Brittany marveled at his vocabulary. “I'm sure it was a misunderstanding,” she said. Granted, Sir Gilbert had been very rude to her, and she had heard rumors that some of the health insurance companies were guilty of unscrupulous activities, but she figured that was a moot point now that they were gone, and had never bothered to investigate. “But I'm glad I could help,” she continued. “Serving others is its own reward. And luckily I can afford not to charge anything because I'm already a princess.”
“My dad said that you're the most beautiful maiden in all of Calatia,” Reginald confided. “Then my mom slugged him.”
Brittany giggled. “Can't blame her.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Geez! And you haven't found a prince yet? Why not? My mom was married with six kids by the time she was twenty-one. Of course, five of them were dead, but...”
“Naturally,” Brittany said, not thrilled with the direction this conversation was going. “Um, I don't know, I guess it's just because I have better things to do. Speaking of which, I gotta go. See ya 'round, kid.” She left him staring after her and wondering what he had said wrong. It was unfortunate that she missed the opportunity to teach him a lesson about asking inappropriate personal questions, but she just didn't want to deal with it.
Alaina had taken a break from juggling and was telling the children a story. “So then I said to him, I said, 'Hey, you can kiss my enormous bear –”
“Alaina!” Brittany interrupted, running up to her. “I told you not to talk around people!”
“Oh, come on, their parents will never believe them anyway.”
“You're impossible.” Brittany rolled her eyes and figured it wasn't worth pressing the issue. “Well, it's time to go. Bye, kids.” Brittany waved and blew kisses at them all as they dispersed to their homes. On her own trip home, she told Alaina what Reginald had said and wondered aloud if he was right, if it was time to give up the party life.
“Well, you know, it's up to you,” Alaina said, “but you should know that marriage is wonderful. So wonderful I decided to do it four times.”
“That sounds compelling,” Brittany said, and since it had been played off as a joke, she didn't bother to point out that it was very atypical for grizzly bears to get married. “I mean, companionship is nice. But I already have one fat, hairy, smelly slob hanging around the castle. I don't need another one right now.”
Alaina took a moment to figure out her meaning, then took umbrage at it. “Why, you little –” She paused and reconsidered. “Actually, that was pretty funny. Kudos.”
“I guess it wouldn't hurt to tentatively investigate the possibilities,” Brittany said, but she couldn't help thinking to herself, Why do I get the feeling I'm going to regret this?
~~~
Brittany stifled a yawn as she read through yet another epistle from a would-be suitor. “Prince Charmin?” Must be a typo. Can't even spell his own – no wait, says he's “squeezably soft”. Do tell. I already have someone fitting that description. Next! She placed it on her outbox pile, which was now half a meter high, and moved on.
“Gaston”? Oh, how sweet, he wrote me a poem... about himself. Ugh, typical Frenchman. Next! Into the pile.
“REQUEST FOR URGENT BUSINESS RELATIONSHIP. FIRST, I MUST SOLICIT YOUR STRICTEST CONFIDENCE IN THIS TRANSACTION. THIS IS BY VIRTUE OF ITS NATURE AS BEING UTTERLY CONFIDENTIAL AND ‘TOP SECRET’...” Ugh, how did this get in here?
Brittany sighed, stood up and stretched her legs, which were beginning to cramp. It was getting late. “Right then,” she said. “I'll have to finish these tomorrow. I'm not optimistic, though. Time to put the finished ones through the shredder.” She whistled.
Alaina trotted into the study, panting like a dog. Brittany pointed to her outbox pile. Alaina tore into it with her claws like a child on Christmas morning, sending confetti showering down on both of them.
“Thanks, shredder,” Brittany said with a giggle.
“Look,” Alaina said, proudly holding up her handiwork, “I made a snowflake!”
Brittany smiled, but her smile quickly wavered. She was so tired, and not just from the lateness of the hour. “Oh, Alaina, it's hopeless,” she said. “There are no good men left in Calatia or the surrounding kingdoms.”
“Think positive,” Alaina said. “At least you don't have to marry your cousin like most princesses.”
Brittany rolled her eyes. “Right, that's all these guys have going for them. Before I even look at this next one, I can assert with confidence that it's another boorish cad. Let's see...” She glanced at it. “Oh, goodness. Even worse than I thought.”
“What?” Alaina demanded.
“Sir Gilbert,” Brittany said, holding the epistle out for the bear to see. “The Sir Gilbert of health insurance fame, the one who wrote a most unflattering newspaper editorial about me a few years ago.”
“What did it say?”
“I can't repeat most of it. The gist was that I secretly tortured mice for fun and bathed in the tears of orphans.”
“Oh, no he didn't,” Alaina said. “Sweetie, you can do so much better than – hold on, what's this?” She squinted at the epistle. “Says here he's got all kinds of gifts for you – chocolate, flowers, chocolate, jewelry, chocolate, Aggies basketball tickets, chocolate...”
“The only gift I want,” Brittany said dreamily, “is a pure heart. Can he offer that? I think not.”
“Sweetie,” Alaina said, “what you gotta do is accept these gifts, tolerate his presence for a while, and then kick him to the curb. I'll help. He won't stick around long when I get angry.”
“Well,” Brittany said, fidgeting, “normally that would be very unkind and entirely against my principles, but since he probably deserves it...”
“Draft a response,” Alaina said gleefully, clapping her paws together. “I'll tell you what to say.”
~~~
All these gifts hadn't come cheap, but it would be worth it, Sir Gilbert knew, as soon as his nemesis lay dead before him. His Board of Directors had abandoned him a year ago, and he was alone in the world, alone with enough money to last him for life, but not nearly enough to satisfy. Some thought him greedy, but he knew he wasn't unique in that. It turned out not even Calatia's favorite goody-two-shoes princess was immune to the allure of wealth. Fortunately he'd be getting it all back, except maybe some of the chocolate.
Brittany greeted him at the castle door alongside a grizzly bear that eyed him suspiciously. “Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he said.
“Why don't you two go on up to the study and get better acquainted?” the bear said. “I'll take care of the stuff.” She wandered over to the dozen packages piled on his wagon, opened one of them, and pulled out a golden ruby-studded necklace. “Dang, that's fine,” she said, mesmerized. “Granted, I've got no use for it, since I prefer to walk around bear naked. Where's the chocolate?”
“You'll spoil your dinner, Alaina,” Brittany scolded.
“A talking bear,” Sir Gilbert said, stepping inside the castle a little too quickly. “I suppose all my gifts pale in comparison to her.” He didn't mention that he knew this particular bear rather well. She didn't recognize him without his disguise, fortunately.
“No, I'm touched by your generosity,” Brittany said as they walked. “These weren't the first gifts, either. I still have your... creative editorial hanging on my icebox.”
Sir Gilbert blushed a little. He should have known that impulsive act would come back to haunt him. “Ah, yes,” he said. “Nothing gets past you, does it? And I tried so hard to hide my true feelings. I'm very shy.”
“Yeah-huh.” She wasn't buying it. Once again, she wasn't as stupid as he'd hoped. They entered her study, a cozy room compared to what he was used to, but nice in a quaint sort of way. “This is where I spend most of my time when I'm not healing people,” she explained. “Knowledge is power.”
“Then we agree on something,” Sir Gilbert said. “One must learn about one's enemies in order to crush – I mean, um, did I say enemies? I meant anemones. I read so much about marine biology that I have a crush on anemones. I have an aquarium at home.” He was babbling now, dang it.
“Yes, I knew there was something fishy about you,” Brittany said. He got flustered, which evidently wasn't the reaction she was going for. “Fishy? Fish? Get it? Ugh, I've been around Alaina too long.” She gestured at a massive pink beanbag chair. “Please, sit down and relax.”
No, it was time to act. Seeing her in person and wondering if he could go through with it had made him flustered, but his training and the hate that had festered over the years made him immune to the charms that had thwarted his assassins. “Thank you,” Sir Gilbert said, waving his hands around in an elaborate pattern, “but I have a better idea. Why don't you drop dead and relax forever?”
Brittany blinked at him. “Beg pardon?”
Someone tried to open the door just then. “Hey, Brittany –” Alaina began, then fumed and cursed for a moment as the door refused to open. “Brittany, this thing's stuck! Are you in there? What's going on?”
“I – I don't know!” Brittany said, running over to the door and trying it from her side. “Hey! It's not even locked!”
“Brittany? Brittany!” Alaina's voice grew more frantic as she pounded on the door.
“She's wasting her time,” Sir Gilbert said scornfully. “I've cast a spell around this room that nothing and nobody can break.”
Brittany gave up on the door and turned around to face him. “You're a sorcerer?”
“I've become one,” Sir Gilbert said. He started pacing toward her. She moved to her left, and soon they were circling the room like a pair of dragons sizing each other up. “I trained with the best,” he continued, “and after she ex-spelled me, I learned the rest from Black Magic for Dummies. I tried to turn her into a hare, actually, but I guess I should have enunciated more clearly. What a coincidence that you found each other.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Never mind, it won't concern you much longer. Suffice to say I went to all that trouble for you, my dear. And here's something else I've learned.” Sir Gilbert snapped his fingers and suddenly rose a meter off the ground. With a flick of his opposite wrist, a fireball materialized and headed straight for her face.
~~~
Brittany had felt a gnawing sense of shame at going along with Alaina's idea and leading Sir Gilbert on, even though he was a jackass and more than likely deserved it. She certainly didn't expect him to be this much of a jackass. She couldn't figure out what he was playing at, but it had never occurred to her how much he was capable of, until now, when it was too late.
She managed to duck in time, and the fireball just singed her hair. It hit one of her bookshelves, which burst into flame. Before she could so much as cry out, she had to dodge another fireball, ducking and cartwheeling across the floor. She didn't see where it went. “Why?” she choked out.
Sir Gilbert floated up higher, leering down at her. “You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment,” he said, then reconsidered. “Well, I guess three years isn't that long in the scheme of things, but it seemed longer. Patience was never one of my strengths.”
“I can understand why you're upset,” Brittany said, putting up her hands in a placating gesture. “I'm sure if we sit down and discuss your grievances like civilized people, we can negotiate an arrangement which will be mutually beneficial and enable us to avoid any more unpleasant confrontations.”
Sir Gilbert bellowed in response and fired off a rapid volley of half a dozen fireballs.
Brittany, a firm pacifist, refused to defend herself even now. Her only hope was to keep outmaneuvering him until his power ran out, if it ran out, which was uncertain. At one point her dress caught on fire, but she had learned in school via a catchy song to stop, drop and roll, which she did. The dress was ruined, but she was still intact, though growing more tired by the second.
“This has been fun, Brittany,” Sir Gilbert said, swishing around. “We should do it again sometime. Oh wait, we can't, because you'll be dead. I've been toying with you, you know. I could have hit you by now, but I wanted you to know fear before you die.”
“I'm not afraid to die,” Brittany said, panting.
“Not even a little?” he asked, frowning.
“Nope.”
“Even to the bitter end you torment me,” he snarled. “Very well then, let's get it over with.” He zoomed toward her and fired seemingly the rest of his arsenal into her torso at point-blank range.
Brittany screamed, collapsed and batted away the flames as he pressed her up against the wall, but the damage was done. She was burned all over. The pain was like nothing she had ever experienced. She closed her eyes and wept.
“Oh, don't worry,” Sir Gilbert said. “It will be over soon. And our mutual friend will soon be joining you. She'll make a nice rug for my den, I think.”
Brittany didn't understand how anyone could be so cruel and callous. It was so alien to her own way of thinking. What could have possibly made him turn out this way? For one reason or another, there's obviously... something... wrong with his heart.
If she'd had the energy, she would have sat bolt upright at the realization, but the light of defiance that flashed through her eyes was enough to make her unilateral nemesis pause in his gloating. “Sir Gilbert,” she said, fighting to keep her voice from wavering, “my diagnosis for you is a cold, dead heart. And I think I have just the prescription.”
Sir Gilbert took a step back, suddenly terrified. “You – you can't be serious,” he said. “That's just figurative language. Hearts just pump blood, they don't actually regulate emotions or anything, and a bad attitude isn't a legitimate disease or disorder... right?”
“Let's find out,” Brittany said, and despite the pain she gave him the biggest, brightest smile of her life.
“Nooooooooo!” he screamed, clutching his head and staggering backwards, trying to tear his eyes away but somehow transfixed by the magic in her teeth.
This only made her smile even bigger, until her cheeks started to hurt more than her mortal wounds. She knew the smile had to be sincere or it wouldn't work. That had never been an issue before. And now, as she found it in the depths of her heart to forgive even this awful man, it was obviously accomplishing something. But all too soon her strength failed, her smile collapsed and she gasped for breath.
Sir Gilbert gasped for breath too, finally looking away, then looking back, then around frantically as if trying to make sure he hadn't found himself in an alternate dimension. He clutched his heart as if to make sure it was still moving. “Oh, cripes,” he said, falling to his knees. “What have I done?” He waved a hand, simultaneously extinguishing the flames, repairing the damaged books and furniture, and releasing the spell around the room. “I'm so sorry...” he mumbled, his eyes watering.
“It's okay,” Brittany said, using one of her last ounces of strengths to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I just want you to remember, as long as you live, that violence never solves anything.”
The door to the study exploded in a shower of matchsticks as a very angry grizzly bear charged through at full speed. With a roar that sounded like the illegitimate child of thunder and gunpowder with bass boosting speakers, she raised a massive paw above Sir Gilbert and
[Ed. note: The original Brothers Grimm version of this story goes into lengthy and graphic detail about how Alaina mutilated and killed Sir Gilbert. The intent of this nightmare-inducing description was apparently to scare children out of growing up to be jackasses. Considering the state of the world today, it doesn't appear to have worked. For our purposes suffice it to say that Sir Gilbert was very, very dead afterward.]
“Alaina!” Brittany protested. “I made him be nice! You shouldn't have done that!”
“My bad,” Alaina said. “Hey, you don't look so good yourself.”
“My time has come,” Brittany said, punctuating it with a little cough. “Don't worry about me, Alaina. I've lived a good life. If anyone ever deserved to go to heaven, I do.”
“Not with that prideful attitude,” Alaina said.
“I'm not being prideful, I'm just stating an objective fact,” Brittany said indignantly. Then she closed her eyes and relaxed, waiting for the other angels to take her soul away.
“Oh, no you don't,” Alaina said, pulling out the small hand mirror that she conveniently carried around in her fur at all times to admire herself in. “You're not getting rid of me that easily.” She held it out in Brittany's face. “Smile!”
Brittany opened her eyes. “That just might work,” she said. And it did. She stood up, brushed some ash off her dress, and smiled at what little was left of Sir Gilbert. Nothing happened. She hadn't really expected anything to, but it had been worth a shot.
“Sorry about the limitations,” Alaina said. “If I let you raise the dead, I know with your compassionate heart you'd get carried away and then humans would overpopulate the world and cut down all the trees and hunt all the animals to extinction and fill all the oceans with their... well... you get the picture.”
Brittany stared at her quizzically. “What do you mean, if you let me?”
“You didn't know? Well, fair enough, you only met me once.” Then, before Brittany's eyes, the grizzly bear started to shrink, and her fur started to recede into emerging skin and clothing. In moments, there stood the sorceress who had bestowed the princess's healing power on her eighteenth birthday. She threw out her arms and said, “Ta-da!”
“Please explain,” Brittany said after an awkward silence.
“How I morphed into clothing?”
“How any of this happened!”
“Right, it's simple enough. Sir Gilbert hated you for your power, and thanks to my stupid big mouth, he found out I gave it to you and hated me too. He came to me in disguise, calling himself Bob and pretending he wanted to be my apprentice, and I was bored so I said sure. When I saw the darkness in his heart, I refused to teach him any more, but he had already become too powerful. He turned me into a grizzly bear. I assume he meant to turn me into something smaller and less threatening. I always told him to enunciate more clearly.”
“That's been the downfall of better men than he,” Brittany said, turning away.
“I guess his face that I ripped off was just a mask,” Alaina continued. “I didn't get a look at his real face as he ran away and I collapsed, and I didn't make a connection between 'Bob' and Sir Gilbert until I heard him gloating at you. Why do villains always gloat? I certainly didn't think Sir Gilbert was capable of murder or stupid enough to try anything with me around. I'm so sorry I almost got you killed. But hey, there's plenty of chocolate left!”
“Yeah, thanks,” Brittany said. “I don't have much of an appetite right now.”
“Understandable,” Alaina said. “As a bear I've gotten used to mutilated remains and such. As a human I agree that they're a bit off-putting. Ugh, too bad I don't have a spell to get this stain out of the floor.” She started to enlarge and sprout fur all over again, and in moments was once again the grizzly bear. She got back down on all fours. “Now that he's gone, I can alternate between forms whenever I want,” she explained, “but honestly I've grown fonder of this one. I get away with more.”
Brittany considered this for a moment. “Well, no matter what form you're in,” she said, scratching Alaina behind the ears, “you'll always be my friend, right?”
“Yes,” Alaina said, “but just bearly.”
~~~
Brittany set down her quill pen and picked up her manuscript, beaming with pride. She had just finished documenting her rise to glory and her encounters with Alaina and Sir Gilbert, and she thought it made a pretty compelling story. “What do you think?” she asked, waving Alaina over. “Will this be the next bestselling fairy tale, or is it too feminist?”
Alaina put on her reading glasses and skimmed through it. By the second page, she was stifling a yawn. “No and no,” she said. “The issue here is that you've portrayed yourself as much too perfect. Nobody likes a Mary Sue, Brittany.”
Brittany made a face. “Yeah, well, snarky talking animal sidekicks are way overused, but I don't see you complaining about that.”
“Maybe if you mentioned how you snore like an ogre with a cold...”
“Oh yeah? Oh yeah?” Brittany snatched back her manuscript. “Well, I'm starting to notice some plot holes, too! Like if you had the power to give me the power to heal everyone – er, almost everyone, why couldn't you just heal them yourself?”
“That's a very good question,” Alaina said, scratching her chin. “I suppose I could have, if not for one little problem. Namely, that I just didn't give a –”
“Oh, stop it you,” Brittany said, swatting her with the pages. “I'm famished. Let's order a pizza.”
“Agreed,” Alaina said. “But no pineapple this time, or I'm throwing it in the moat.”
Brittany sent her manuscript to several publishers, but sexism was ingrained into most facets of society in this era, and they all rejected her because she was a woman. Since she was also the ruler of their country, this caused some cognitive dissonance, but they said that couldn't be helped. So she adopted a male alias, Dean, and tried again. They all rejected her again because they didn't believe a male named Dean would really dot his i's with little hearts.
In desperation, she traveled to Germany and sought out the Brothers Grimm who, as anyone who's watched “Xena: Warrior Princess” can attest, were obviously alive and had cornered the fairy tale market because all ancient people lived at the same time. After a little sweet-talking and an arrangement to share any royalties with the royalty, they agreed to see what they could do. She returned home to Calatia and left her manuscript in their capable hands. They made some helpful revisions for market appeal and then lost it in the bottom of a trunk where it didn't see the light of day until literally just now.
Main Page: Short Stories by C. Randall Nicholson
On Brittany's eighteenth birthday, a sorceress paid her a visit in the castle that the citizens had volunteered their time and labor to build for her. “Hold it,” the events planner who filled in for the nonexistent castle security today said, stopping her at the gate. “As much as our beloved princess would love to let everyone in, this building does have a finite capacity and there are fire codes and stuff. Who, may I ask, are you?”
“I'm Brit's second cousin, Betty,” the sorceress said.
“Yeah?” The events planner squinted and tried to get a closer look under her long cloak's heavy hood. “She's never mentioned you before.”
“She thinks I'm dead,” the sorceress said. “It's been weighing on her heart for years and she doesn't like to talk about it. She'll be overjoyed to see me, unless, of course, I don't get in for some reason.” She raised an eyebrow.
The events planner quickly ushered her inside with the other two thousand guests.
The throne room was humble as far as throne rooms go, and Brittany didn't spend too much time in it besides her obligatory media appearances. She preferred her cozier bedroom or study. The plain stone walls were decorated with several banners of Calatia's coat of arms. Dressed in a simple pink dress with her long brown hair pulled back behind her perky round face, Brittany herself gazed out from a throne that the people had built for her themselves. It was lopsided and hurt to sit on, but it's the thought that counts.
Each guest got a chance to speak with the princess for fifteen seconds, which took well over eight hours. Brittany was exhausted, but perked up nonetheless when the last one, the sorceress, approached her. The whole throne room fell silent and everyone strained to hear the mysterious woman; she just had that sort of charisma despite being at least fifty.
“Dearest Brittany, you have been a good and wise ruler,” she said in an aged yet firm voice. “But you're already eighteen, and you're not getting any younger. You must choose a husband so you can continue your lineage.”
“Oh, come on,” Brittany said with a pout. “Can't I keep enjoying the party life for a few years?” The crowd gasped at her audacity.
“Well, I suppose so,” the sorceress said. “In that case, I will bestow upon you a magical gift to aid you in your life and career. What would you like? I know you will choose something good and wholesome.”
Jackpot, Brittany thought. She already knew what to ask for. “I have always felt such love and compassion for the people I see suffering around me,” she said. “As you know, health care in this era is almost as deadly as the diseases and injuries themselves, and we think mental illness is caused by demons that need to be tortured out. I wish to become the greatest healer Calatia, no, the world has ever known, so that I might ease this suffering more effectively.”
The sorceress bowed her head. “You have not disappointed me,” she said. “I have but one warning. You already have the power to make small woodland creatures accompany you in songs that you compose and sing on the spot. If you become too powerful, you may find yourself making enemies for the first time in your life.”
“That's a risk I'll have to take,” Brittany said. “Nothing worthwhile ever comes without risk, unless you inherit it.”
“Then it is done,” the sorceress said, waving her hands. “From this moment on, for as long as you continue to brush and floss regularly, your already radiant smile will have the power to magically heal the afflictions of all who look upon it.”
“Thank you,” Brittany said. “You're a nice sorceress. Won't you please stay for some cake?” She gestured to the northeast corner of the room, where a chocolate cake stretched up to the vaulted ceiling and out wider than most people's houses.
“I'd love to,” the sorceress said, “but I'm allergic to gluten.”
“I can fix that,” Brittany said, and smiled, dimples framing her pearly white teeth. The sorceress ate two pieces of cake without getting a stomachache, and all who witnessed it rejoiced at the miracle that had occurred.
~~~
Brittany wasted no time going up and down the Calatian countryside healing all she passed. Some were missing limbs, some had smallpox, and some were haunted by unresolved resentment toward their parents, but whatever the malady, Brittany fixed it with her magic smile. This was the greatest medical advancement since the invention of vaccines centuries later. Better, even, since her smiles didn't cause autism.
[Ed. note: This is a poor attempt at a joke. Neither the author nor anyone associated with this publication nor anyone with a functioning brain believes that vaccines cause autism.]
In one typical example, she healed a baby girl who was stricken with diphtheria and hours from death. The baby was crying and whimpering quietly on the floor of a little peasants' hut while her parents and older siblings remained a safe distance away and covered their mouths. Brittany got the baby to look at her, then smiled, and moments later the baby's swelling went down and the proper color returned to her skin. Another moment later she was giggling and cooing.
Brittany smiled again, this time merely because she was happy. “Who's the cutest widdle patient?” she said, playing with the baby's toes. “Yes you are! Yes you are!”
Eventually she had to get home. She straightened up, smiled at the rest of the family as a preventative measure, and let herself out with no fanfare.
The father chased after her. He had seemed to be at a loss for words, but now they came gushing out. “We can never repay you for saving our baby girl,” he said, prostrating himself on the ground. “We had no help left. Sir Gilbert was no help at all, and even if we could have gotten to a physician, I doubt he could have done anything. You'll never know how grateful we are...”
Brittany was uncomfortable receiving such praise and recognition for what she felt was merely her duty to the world. “I'm uncomfortable receiving such praise and recognition for what I feel is merely my duty to the world,” she said. “But thank you for saying thank you. I wish your family the best.” With that, she went home to order a pizza and binge-read a series of gritty crime scrolls.
So it went day after day, and so of course she quickly became even more beloved by her people – all of them, that is, except for the executives of pharmaceutical and health insurance companies.
~~~
One particularly unscrupulous creature who screwed his customers whenever he could get away with it, which was most of the time, was enraged at the prospect of having to find an honest job or give up one of his yachts. Sir Gilbert, a fancy-dressed man with a greasy black mustache and goatee that made him somewhat resemble a snake-oil Shakespeare, had voted for Princess Brittany like everyone else, but only because he assumed she was too young and stupid to challenge the status quo. He discovered to his chagrin that he was wrong.
Sir Gilbert called his Board of Directors together and demanded that they do something about this impudent young woman who was ruining his business. “I demand that you do something about this impudent young woman who's ruining my business!” he bellowed, thumping a fist on the hand-carved mahogany table in the meeting room.
The directors looked at each other nervously. The boldest one spoke up. “But, sir,” he said, “what do you expect us to do? It's not like we can just kill her or anything.”
Sir Gilbert's face lit up. “That's it!” he said.
Emboldened by his change of mood, another director spoke up. “Even better, sir, she is in need of a husband, at least to the degree that any of the few women with the means and opportunities to survive on their own in this culture can be in need of a husband. Why not marry her first and then take over the kingdom when she's gone?”
Sir Gilbert considered the suggestion for a moment, then waved it off. “Too much responsibility,” he said. “Instead let's transition Calatia back into a democratic republic and then bribe our representatives to pass the legislation we want.”
“But surely bribery would be illegal,” the director protested.
Sir Gilbert grinned and enumerated on his fingers. “Three words: special interest group. And don't call me Shirley.”
The Board of Directors unanimously agreed, and not just because he would behead them if they didn't. So he hired one of Calatia's deadliest assassins to assassinate the princess. That very evening, the assassin climbed her castle wall and snuck into the study where she was reading a book on hydroponics to broaden her mind. He drew his weapon, but when he saw her in the light of the fireplace, he was so overwhelmed by her beauty that he ran away, went to church, repented, and decided to go into landscape design.
Brittany looked up from her book. She thought she had heard something, but nobody was around. She went back to her book.
So it was with every assassin Sir Gilbert hired. He could have probably circumvented the whole obstruction by hiring a female assassin, of course, but sexism was ingrained into most facets of society in this era, including the assassin industry. And even if he could have found a female assassin, his own principles wouldn't allow it. So after the fifteenth failed attempt he was forced to bide his time and simmer with rage in the shadows. He also wrote a scathing newspaper editorial about Brittany, but it didn't seem to accomplish anything.
Then, one evening, he read a Timmy Kimmel interview with a sorceress who claimed to have been the source of Brittany's healing power. He decided to pay this sorceress a little visit.
~~~
One day, about three years after acquiring her healing power, Princess Brittany was walking in the woods near her castle, humming the tune of a bawdy drinking song she couldn't get out of her head and didn't understand because it was in Latin. The birds and the squirrels and the crickets joined in, creating a harmony that future generations of music historians would come to describe as “totally epic”. She didn't know why she was walking this way – she just followed her inner compass, almost a still, small voice of sorts.
Then she stumbled upon something that made her voice falter and her animal friends scurry away. A grizzly bear lay in the underbrush with five arrows sticking out of its back. She thought at first that it was dead, but she could see its chest heaving slightly as it clung to its final vestiges of life. Its eyes fluttered open, and it looked straight at her, seeming to plead silently for help.
Brittany knew that carnivorous animals were inherently wicked because of the way they were born. She knew that if she healed this one, it would probably rip her face off with one swipe. But her heart was too big for her own good, and she couldn't stand to watch it suffer, and she couldn't bring herself to put it out of its misery.
She smiled.
The arrows disintegrated, the wound closed, and the bear sprang to its feet. “Thank you for helping me,” it said in a strangely familiar voice that revealed it to be female. “I'm smarter than the average bear, and thus capable of feeling gratitude.”
This startled Brittany. She was not accustomed to hearing animals speak, and wondered at first if this was an effect of the strange mushrooms she had found earlier. The last animal she had heard speak was a frog who had asked her to kiss him. She had asked if he was a prince under a curse, and he had said no, he just wanted her to kiss him. She had appreciated his honesty enough to grant his request.
“Er, you're welcome,” she said. Her face was still intact. She decided not to press her luck, and slowly backed away.
“My name is Alaina,” the bear continued. “A hunter got me, and I would have died if you hadn't shown up. I almost couldn't bear the pain. Get it?” Fortunately, this pun worked because Calatian was exactly like English, albeit the small payoff wasn't really worth it.
Yet Brittany smiled in spite of herself. “Yes, very clever.”
“It's all right, though, I got him before I collapsed here. I ripped his face off with one swipe. Wanna see?”
“No, thank you.” Feeling uneasy again, Brittany curtsied. “Well, it was very nice to meet you, Alaina, but I'm afraid I must be going.”
“Wherever you're going, I can get you there faster!” Alaina said. “Because you saved my life, from now on, I will be your noble steed. And if anybody messes with you – whammo! If you catch my drift.”
“Ah,” Brittany said, “that's very thoughtful of you, but I'm afraid I just don't have a saddle big enough.”
“Oh no, sweetie,” Alaina said, “you don't need a saddle to ride bearback.”
Brittany laughed. “You make a compelling argument,” she said. With a shrug, she climbed on the back of her new friend and they set off for her castle. She felt more free and lighthearted than she had in years, as the wind blew through her hair and Alaina's fur tickled her legs.
She had never noticed the assassins, and they had stopped some time ago. And if she had and they hadn't, one would think that having a grizzly bear as an ally would prove quite advantageous in dealing with them. But Brittany was a firm pacifist. She could never bring herself to harm a living thing, which was why she only ate meat that had been prepared by somebody else and tried not to think about where it came from. But if it came down to it, she would lay down her life rather than strike a blow in self-defense.
~~~
Brittany and Alaina became fast friends and, because Alaina was surprisingly averse to sleeping outside, roommates. “I promise to earn my keep,” Alaina said. “I'm a hard worker. Now I know what you're thinking, but when I'm given responsibilities I always go above and beyond the bear minimum.”
“Fabulous,” Brittany said.
Alaina had all kinds of crazy ideas for how to spend their free time. “Picture this: two vigilantes who enforce justice where the law fears to tread,” she said one day. “Our opposite personalities would complement each other during interrogations. You know, the old 'good knight, bad knight' routine.”
Brittany pretended to seriously consider the suggestion. “I don't think I need any help enforcing justice,” she said. “Things are pretty quiet in Calatia.”
“Yeah? How do you quell rebellions, punish murderers, thwart illegal parchment copying, that sort of thing?”
“I just say 'Please' at the beginning of every royal decree,” Brittany said, “and the people do what I ask because they love me and want me to be happy.”
“Hahaha! I bet they do! Seriously though.” Alaina stared until she realized the princess wasn't joking. “Right then.”
Brittany often rode her new steed to the marketplace where all the little children fawned over them both. She instructed Alaina not to talk around anybody else because that would draw undue attention from unscrupulous tourists wanting to sell her to a theater or a menagerie. Alaina said, “Duh.”
One day about two months later, Brittany was watching the clouds and flicking pennies into a fountain while Alaina tap-danced on her hind legs and juggled squashes. Alaina wanted to juggle pumpkins so she could drop one and say it was a squash now, but they had a shortage that year. Most of the children gathered around her, but one shy boy named Reginald was splashing around in the fountain next to Brittany. Shy, meaning that he got nervous around massive predators with sharp teeth and claws. Nobody's perfect.
“Do you remember me?”
It took Brittany a moment to realize he was talking to her. “Hm? Have we met?”
“I was little back then,” Reginald said. “You healed my little sister when she had diphtheria. My parents were so worried. Our health insurance company refused to cover it, even though our contract said they had to, and my parents said we didn't have time to waste in the appeals courts dealing with those stupid – well, they told me not to repeat those words, but anyway, they didn't have time. You were a savior to us. And you didn't even charge us anything.”
Brittany marveled at his vocabulary. “I'm sure it was a misunderstanding,” she said. Granted, Sir Gilbert had been very rude to her, and she had heard rumors that some of the health insurance companies were guilty of unscrupulous activities, but she figured that was a moot point now that they were gone, and had never bothered to investigate. “But I'm glad I could help,” she continued. “Serving others is its own reward. And luckily I can afford not to charge anything because I'm already a princess.”
“My dad said that you're the most beautiful maiden in all of Calatia,” Reginald confided. “Then my mom slugged him.”
Brittany giggled. “Can't blame her.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Geez! And you haven't found a prince yet? Why not? My mom was married with six kids by the time she was twenty-one. Of course, five of them were dead, but...”
“Naturally,” Brittany said, not thrilled with the direction this conversation was going. “Um, I don't know, I guess it's just because I have better things to do. Speaking of which, I gotta go. See ya 'round, kid.” She left him staring after her and wondering what he had said wrong. It was unfortunate that she missed the opportunity to teach him a lesson about asking inappropriate personal questions, but she just didn't want to deal with it.
Alaina had taken a break from juggling and was telling the children a story. “So then I said to him, I said, 'Hey, you can kiss my enormous bear –”
“Alaina!” Brittany interrupted, running up to her. “I told you not to talk around people!”
“Oh, come on, their parents will never believe them anyway.”
“You're impossible.” Brittany rolled her eyes and figured it wasn't worth pressing the issue. “Well, it's time to go. Bye, kids.” Brittany waved and blew kisses at them all as they dispersed to their homes. On her own trip home, she told Alaina what Reginald had said and wondered aloud if he was right, if it was time to give up the party life.
“Well, you know, it's up to you,” Alaina said, “but you should know that marriage is wonderful. So wonderful I decided to do it four times.”
“That sounds compelling,” Brittany said, and since it had been played off as a joke, she didn't bother to point out that it was very atypical for grizzly bears to get married. “I mean, companionship is nice. But I already have one fat, hairy, smelly slob hanging around the castle. I don't need another one right now.”
Alaina took a moment to figure out her meaning, then took umbrage at it. “Why, you little –” She paused and reconsidered. “Actually, that was pretty funny. Kudos.”
“I guess it wouldn't hurt to tentatively investigate the possibilities,” Brittany said, but she couldn't help thinking to herself, Why do I get the feeling I'm going to regret this?
~~~
Brittany stifled a yawn as she read through yet another epistle from a would-be suitor. “Prince Charmin?” Must be a typo. Can't even spell his own – no wait, says he's “squeezably soft”. Do tell. I already have someone fitting that description. Next! She placed it on her outbox pile, which was now half a meter high, and moved on.
“Gaston”? Oh, how sweet, he wrote me a poem... about himself. Ugh, typical Frenchman. Next! Into the pile.
“REQUEST FOR URGENT BUSINESS RELATIONSHIP. FIRST, I MUST SOLICIT YOUR STRICTEST CONFIDENCE IN THIS TRANSACTION. THIS IS BY VIRTUE OF ITS NATURE AS BEING UTTERLY CONFIDENTIAL AND ‘TOP SECRET’...” Ugh, how did this get in here?
Brittany sighed, stood up and stretched her legs, which were beginning to cramp. It was getting late. “Right then,” she said. “I'll have to finish these tomorrow. I'm not optimistic, though. Time to put the finished ones through the shredder.” She whistled.
Alaina trotted into the study, panting like a dog. Brittany pointed to her outbox pile. Alaina tore into it with her claws like a child on Christmas morning, sending confetti showering down on both of them.
“Thanks, shredder,” Brittany said with a giggle.
“Look,” Alaina said, proudly holding up her handiwork, “I made a snowflake!”
Brittany smiled, but her smile quickly wavered. She was so tired, and not just from the lateness of the hour. “Oh, Alaina, it's hopeless,” she said. “There are no good men left in Calatia or the surrounding kingdoms.”
“Think positive,” Alaina said. “At least you don't have to marry your cousin like most princesses.”
Brittany rolled her eyes. “Right, that's all these guys have going for them. Before I even look at this next one, I can assert with confidence that it's another boorish cad. Let's see...” She glanced at it. “Oh, goodness. Even worse than I thought.”
“What?” Alaina demanded.
“Sir Gilbert,” Brittany said, holding the epistle out for the bear to see. “The Sir Gilbert of health insurance fame, the one who wrote a most unflattering newspaper editorial about me a few years ago.”
“What did it say?”
“I can't repeat most of it. The gist was that I secretly tortured mice for fun and bathed in the tears of orphans.”
“Oh, no he didn't,” Alaina said. “Sweetie, you can do so much better than – hold on, what's this?” She squinted at the epistle. “Says here he's got all kinds of gifts for you – chocolate, flowers, chocolate, jewelry, chocolate, Aggies basketball tickets, chocolate...”
“The only gift I want,” Brittany said dreamily, “is a pure heart. Can he offer that? I think not.”
“Sweetie,” Alaina said, “what you gotta do is accept these gifts, tolerate his presence for a while, and then kick him to the curb. I'll help. He won't stick around long when I get angry.”
“Well,” Brittany said, fidgeting, “normally that would be very unkind and entirely against my principles, but since he probably deserves it...”
“Draft a response,” Alaina said gleefully, clapping her paws together. “I'll tell you what to say.”
~~~
All these gifts hadn't come cheap, but it would be worth it, Sir Gilbert knew, as soon as his nemesis lay dead before him. His Board of Directors had abandoned him a year ago, and he was alone in the world, alone with enough money to last him for life, but not nearly enough to satisfy. Some thought him greedy, but he knew he wasn't unique in that. It turned out not even Calatia's favorite goody-two-shoes princess was immune to the allure of wealth. Fortunately he'd be getting it all back, except maybe some of the chocolate.
Brittany greeted him at the castle door alongside a grizzly bear that eyed him suspiciously. “Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he said.
“Why don't you two go on up to the study and get better acquainted?” the bear said. “I'll take care of the stuff.” She wandered over to the dozen packages piled on his wagon, opened one of them, and pulled out a golden ruby-studded necklace. “Dang, that's fine,” she said, mesmerized. “Granted, I've got no use for it, since I prefer to walk around bear naked. Where's the chocolate?”
“You'll spoil your dinner, Alaina,” Brittany scolded.
“A talking bear,” Sir Gilbert said, stepping inside the castle a little too quickly. “I suppose all my gifts pale in comparison to her.” He didn't mention that he knew this particular bear rather well. She didn't recognize him without his disguise, fortunately.
“No, I'm touched by your generosity,” Brittany said as they walked. “These weren't the first gifts, either. I still have your... creative editorial hanging on my icebox.”
Sir Gilbert blushed a little. He should have known that impulsive act would come back to haunt him. “Ah, yes,” he said. “Nothing gets past you, does it? And I tried so hard to hide my true feelings. I'm very shy.”
“Yeah-huh.” She wasn't buying it. Once again, she wasn't as stupid as he'd hoped. They entered her study, a cozy room compared to what he was used to, but nice in a quaint sort of way. “This is where I spend most of my time when I'm not healing people,” she explained. “Knowledge is power.”
“Then we agree on something,” Sir Gilbert said. “One must learn about one's enemies in order to crush – I mean, um, did I say enemies? I meant anemones. I read so much about marine biology that I have a crush on anemones. I have an aquarium at home.” He was babbling now, dang it.
“Yes, I knew there was something fishy about you,” Brittany said. He got flustered, which evidently wasn't the reaction she was going for. “Fishy? Fish? Get it? Ugh, I've been around Alaina too long.” She gestured at a massive pink beanbag chair. “Please, sit down and relax.”
No, it was time to act. Seeing her in person and wondering if he could go through with it had made him flustered, but his training and the hate that had festered over the years made him immune to the charms that had thwarted his assassins. “Thank you,” Sir Gilbert said, waving his hands around in an elaborate pattern, “but I have a better idea. Why don't you drop dead and relax forever?”
Brittany blinked at him. “Beg pardon?”
Someone tried to open the door just then. “Hey, Brittany –” Alaina began, then fumed and cursed for a moment as the door refused to open. “Brittany, this thing's stuck! Are you in there? What's going on?”
“I – I don't know!” Brittany said, running over to the door and trying it from her side. “Hey! It's not even locked!”
“Brittany? Brittany!” Alaina's voice grew more frantic as she pounded on the door.
“She's wasting her time,” Sir Gilbert said scornfully. “I've cast a spell around this room that nothing and nobody can break.”
Brittany gave up on the door and turned around to face him. “You're a sorcerer?”
“I've become one,” Sir Gilbert said. He started pacing toward her. She moved to her left, and soon they were circling the room like a pair of dragons sizing each other up. “I trained with the best,” he continued, “and after she ex-spelled me, I learned the rest from Black Magic for Dummies. I tried to turn her into a hare, actually, but I guess I should have enunciated more clearly. What a coincidence that you found each other.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Never mind, it won't concern you much longer. Suffice to say I went to all that trouble for you, my dear. And here's something else I've learned.” Sir Gilbert snapped his fingers and suddenly rose a meter off the ground. With a flick of his opposite wrist, a fireball materialized and headed straight for her face.
~~~
Brittany had felt a gnawing sense of shame at going along with Alaina's idea and leading Sir Gilbert on, even though he was a jackass and more than likely deserved it. She certainly didn't expect him to be this much of a jackass. She couldn't figure out what he was playing at, but it had never occurred to her how much he was capable of, until now, when it was too late.
She managed to duck in time, and the fireball just singed her hair. It hit one of her bookshelves, which burst into flame. Before she could so much as cry out, she had to dodge another fireball, ducking and cartwheeling across the floor. She didn't see where it went. “Why?” she choked out.
Sir Gilbert floated up higher, leering down at her. “You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment,” he said, then reconsidered. “Well, I guess three years isn't that long in the scheme of things, but it seemed longer. Patience was never one of my strengths.”
“I can understand why you're upset,” Brittany said, putting up her hands in a placating gesture. “I'm sure if we sit down and discuss your grievances like civilized people, we can negotiate an arrangement which will be mutually beneficial and enable us to avoid any more unpleasant confrontations.”
Sir Gilbert bellowed in response and fired off a rapid volley of half a dozen fireballs.
Brittany, a firm pacifist, refused to defend herself even now. Her only hope was to keep outmaneuvering him until his power ran out, if it ran out, which was uncertain. At one point her dress caught on fire, but she had learned in school via a catchy song to stop, drop and roll, which she did. The dress was ruined, but she was still intact, though growing more tired by the second.
“This has been fun, Brittany,” Sir Gilbert said, swishing around. “We should do it again sometime. Oh wait, we can't, because you'll be dead. I've been toying with you, you know. I could have hit you by now, but I wanted you to know fear before you die.”
“I'm not afraid to die,” Brittany said, panting.
“Not even a little?” he asked, frowning.
“Nope.”
“Even to the bitter end you torment me,” he snarled. “Very well then, let's get it over with.” He zoomed toward her and fired seemingly the rest of his arsenal into her torso at point-blank range.
Brittany screamed, collapsed and batted away the flames as he pressed her up against the wall, but the damage was done. She was burned all over. The pain was like nothing she had ever experienced. She closed her eyes and wept.
“Oh, don't worry,” Sir Gilbert said. “It will be over soon. And our mutual friend will soon be joining you. She'll make a nice rug for my den, I think.”
Brittany didn't understand how anyone could be so cruel and callous. It was so alien to her own way of thinking. What could have possibly made him turn out this way? For one reason or another, there's obviously... something... wrong with his heart.
If she'd had the energy, she would have sat bolt upright at the realization, but the light of defiance that flashed through her eyes was enough to make her unilateral nemesis pause in his gloating. “Sir Gilbert,” she said, fighting to keep her voice from wavering, “my diagnosis for you is a cold, dead heart. And I think I have just the prescription.”
Sir Gilbert took a step back, suddenly terrified. “You – you can't be serious,” he said. “That's just figurative language. Hearts just pump blood, they don't actually regulate emotions or anything, and a bad attitude isn't a legitimate disease or disorder... right?”
“Let's find out,” Brittany said, and despite the pain she gave him the biggest, brightest smile of her life.
“Nooooooooo!” he screamed, clutching his head and staggering backwards, trying to tear his eyes away but somehow transfixed by the magic in her teeth.
This only made her smile even bigger, until her cheeks started to hurt more than her mortal wounds. She knew the smile had to be sincere or it wouldn't work. That had never been an issue before. And now, as she found it in the depths of her heart to forgive even this awful man, it was obviously accomplishing something. But all too soon her strength failed, her smile collapsed and she gasped for breath.
Sir Gilbert gasped for breath too, finally looking away, then looking back, then around frantically as if trying to make sure he hadn't found himself in an alternate dimension. He clutched his heart as if to make sure it was still moving. “Oh, cripes,” he said, falling to his knees. “What have I done?” He waved a hand, simultaneously extinguishing the flames, repairing the damaged books and furniture, and releasing the spell around the room. “I'm so sorry...” he mumbled, his eyes watering.
“It's okay,” Brittany said, using one of her last ounces of strengths to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I just want you to remember, as long as you live, that violence never solves anything.”
The door to the study exploded in a shower of matchsticks as a very angry grizzly bear charged through at full speed. With a roar that sounded like the illegitimate child of thunder and gunpowder with bass boosting speakers, she raised a massive paw above Sir Gilbert and
[Ed. note: The original Brothers Grimm version of this story goes into lengthy and graphic detail about how Alaina mutilated and killed Sir Gilbert. The intent of this nightmare-inducing description was apparently to scare children out of growing up to be jackasses. Considering the state of the world today, it doesn't appear to have worked. For our purposes suffice it to say that Sir Gilbert was very, very dead afterward.]
“Alaina!” Brittany protested. “I made him be nice! You shouldn't have done that!”
“My bad,” Alaina said. “Hey, you don't look so good yourself.”
“My time has come,” Brittany said, punctuating it with a little cough. “Don't worry about me, Alaina. I've lived a good life. If anyone ever deserved to go to heaven, I do.”
“Not with that prideful attitude,” Alaina said.
“I'm not being prideful, I'm just stating an objective fact,” Brittany said indignantly. Then she closed her eyes and relaxed, waiting for the other angels to take her soul away.
“Oh, no you don't,” Alaina said, pulling out the small hand mirror that she conveniently carried around in her fur at all times to admire herself in. “You're not getting rid of me that easily.” She held it out in Brittany's face. “Smile!”
Brittany opened her eyes. “That just might work,” she said. And it did. She stood up, brushed some ash off her dress, and smiled at what little was left of Sir Gilbert. Nothing happened. She hadn't really expected anything to, but it had been worth a shot.
“Sorry about the limitations,” Alaina said. “If I let you raise the dead, I know with your compassionate heart you'd get carried away and then humans would overpopulate the world and cut down all the trees and hunt all the animals to extinction and fill all the oceans with their... well... you get the picture.”
Brittany stared at her quizzically. “What do you mean, if you let me?”
“You didn't know? Well, fair enough, you only met me once.” Then, before Brittany's eyes, the grizzly bear started to shrink, and her fur started to recede into emerging skin and clothing. In moments, there stood the sorceress who had bestowed the princess's healing power on her eighteenth birthday. She threw out her arms and said, “Ta-da!”
“Please explain,” Brittany said after an awkward silence.
“How I morphed into clothing?”
“How any of this happened!”
“Right, it's simple enough. Sir Gilbert hated you for your power, and thanks to my stupid big mouth, he found out I gave it to you and hated me too. He came to me in disguise, calling himself Bob and pretending he wanted to be my apprentice, and I was bored so I said sure. When I saw the darkness in his heart, I refused to teach him any more, but he had already become too powerful. He turned me into a grizzly bear. I assume he meant to turn me into something smaller and less threatening. I always told him to enunciate more clearly.”
“That's been the downfall of better men than he,” Brittany said, turning away.
“I guess his face that I ripped off was just a mask,” Alaina continued. “I didn't get a look at his real face as he ran away and I collapsed, and I didn't make a connection between 'Bob' and Sir Gilbert until I heard him gloating at you. Why do villains always gloat? I certainly didn't think Sir Gilbert was capable of murder or stupid enough to try anything with me around. I'm so sorry I almost got you killed. But hey, there's plenty of chocolate left!”
“Yeah, thanks,” Brittany said. “I don't have much of an appetite right now.”
“Understandable,” Alaina said. “As a bear I've gotten used to mutilated remains and such. As a human I agree that they're a bit off-putting. Ugh, too bad I don't have a spell to get this stain out of the floor.” She started to enlarge and sprout fur all over again, and in moments was once again the grizzly bear. She got back down on all fours. “Now that he's gone, I can alternate between forms whenever I want,” she explained, “but honestly I've grown fonder of this one. I get away with more.”
Brittany considered this for a moment. “Well, no matter what form you're in,” she said, scratching Alaina behind the ears, “you'll always be my friend, right?”
“Yes,” Alaina said, “but just bearly.”
~~~
Brittany set down her quill pen and picked up her manuscript, beaming with pride. She had just finished documenting her rise to glory and her encounters with Alaina and Sir Gilbert, and she thought it made a pretty compelling story. “What do you think?” she asked, waving Alaina over. “Will this be the next bestselling fairy tale, or is it too feminist?”
Alaina put on her reading glasses and skimmed through it. By the second page, she was stifling a yawn. “No and no,” she said. “The issue here is that you've portrayed yourself as much too perfect. Nobody likes a Mary Sue, Brittany.”
Brittany made a face. “Yeah, well, snarky talking animal sidekicks are way overused, but I don't see you complaining about that.”
“Maybe if you mentioned how you snore like an ogre with a cold...”
“Oh yeah? Oh yeah?” Brittany snatched back her manuscript. “Well, I'm starting to notice some plot holes, too! Like if you had the power to give me the power to heal everyone – er, almost everyone, why couldn't you just heal them yourself?”
“That's a very good question,” Alaina said, scratching her chin. “I suppose I could have, if not for one little problem. Namely, that I just didn't give a –”
“Oh, stop it you,” Brittany said, swatting her with the pages. “I'm famished. Let's order a pizza.”
“Agreed,” Alaina said. “But no pineapple this time, or I'm throwing it in the moat.”
Brittany sent her manuscript to several publishers, but sexism was ingrained into most facets of society in this era, and they all rejected her because she was a woman. Since she was also the ruler of their country, this caused some cognitive dissonance, but they said that couldn't be helped. So she adopted a male alias, Dean, and tried again. They all rejected her again because they didn't believe a male named Dean would really dot his i's with little hearts.
In desperation, she traveled to Germany and sought out the Brothers Grimm who, as anyone who's watched “Xena: Warrior Princess” can attest, were obviously alive and had cornered the fairy tale market because all ancient people lived at the same time. After a little sweet-talking and an arrangement to share any royalties with the royalty, they agreed to see what they could do. She returned home to Calatia and left her manuscript in their capable hands. They made some helpful revisions for market appeal and then lost it in the bottom of a trunk where it didn't see the light of day until literally just now.
Main Page: Short Stories by C. Randall Nicholson
