The Song of the Blood-Red Flower Part 1

The Song Of The Blood-Red Flower.

by Johannes Linnankoski.

THE FAIRY OF THE FOREST

The setting sun shone on the wooded slopes of the hill. He clasped the nearest trees in a burning embrace, offered his hand to those farther off, and gave to them all a sparkling smile.

There was joy on the hillside.

The summer wind told fairy tales from the south. Told of the trees there, how tall they are, how dense the forests, and the earth, how it steams in the heat. How the people are dark as shadows, and their eyes flashing with light. And all the trees in the wood strained their ears to listen.

The cuckoo perched in the red-blossomed pine, near the reddest cl.u.s.ter of all. "It may be as lovely as lovely can be," cuckooed he, "but nowhere does the heart throb with delight as in Finland forests in spring, and nowhere is such music in the air."

All the hillside nodded approvingly.

In a little glade half-way down the slope some newly-felled firs lay tumbled this way and that--their red-blossomed tops were trembling still.

On one of the stems a youth was seated.

He was tall and slender, as the trees he had just felled. His hat swung on a twig, coat and waistcoat were hung on a withered branch.

His strong brown chest showed behind the white of the open shirt; the upturned sleeves bared his powerful, sunburnt arms. He sat leaning forward, looking at his right arm, bending and stretching it, watching the muscles swell and the sinews tighten under the skin.

The young man laughed.

He caught up his axe, held it straight out at arm's length, and flourished it gaily.

"Twenty-five down already, and the axe as light as ever!"

The cuckoo called. The young man looked toward the top of the hill.

"A wonderful spring," he thought. "Never have the trees flowered so blood-red and bright, nor the brook sung so merrily, nor the cuckoo called so near. 'T would be no surprise to see the wood-sprite herself come out from the trees."

He rested his head in his hands.

"Some say they never come nowadays, but Grandfather, he's seen them himself. They're grown shy, now that the woods are being cleared."

"Come, strawberry blossom, Come, raspberry blossom, Come, little cows, It is late."

The sound came from the other side of the hill, like a tinkle of silver bells on a lonely winter road.

The young man's heart beat faster. He started up, and turned towards the sound, holding his breath to listen. But he heard nothing more, save the heavy throbbing in his breast.

He took a few steps forward and stopped. "Will she come this way, or...."

"Come, summer star, Come, little cows, Hurry home."

It seemed quite close now, just beyond the ridge.

"Coming--she is coming this way!" He hurried on again, but, startled at his own impatience, stopped once more, stepped back, and stood with his eyes fixed on the crest of the hill.

Something golden shone through the trees, something that fluttered in the wind. Below the gold a white blouse, a slender waist, and then a blue skirt.

"The fairy of the forest!"

The girl was standing on the hilltop. She shaded her eyes, and began walking toward the farther slope. What now? He was on the point of racing after her, then jumped on to a tree stem, and put his hands to his mouth as if to shout. Suddenly he dropped his hands and stood irresolute. Then he jumped down, picked up his axe, mounted the stem again, and looked at the girl intently.

"Wait till she gets to the big fir yonder; then if she doesn't look round, I'll give one blow of the axe and see if she'll hear."

The girl walked on--the axe was raised....

"Come, summer star...."

She turned round, and caught sight of him, started, and stopped, blushing as she stood.

"Olof!"

"Annikki!"

He sprang down and hastened toward the girl.

She too came nearer.

"You here? And never said a word! How you frightened me!"

"I was just going to call when you turned round."

They shook hands, heartily, as comrades.

"Look!" he cried eagerly; "isn't it just like a palace all round--the castle of Tapio, and I'm the lord of the castle, and you're the forest fairy, come to visit me. And your clothes smell of the pine woods, and there's a scent of birch in your hair, and you come playing on a shepherd's pipe, music sweet as honey...."

The girl looked up in astonishment. "What--what makes you talk like that?"

He stopped in some perplexity. "'Tis the forest talks so. But now you must come in--right in to the palace."

They went through to the middle of the clearing.

"And have you felled all those, all by yourself?" She cast a warm glance at his sunburnt neck and powerful shoulders. "How strong you are!"

The boy stepped on more briskly.

"There! Now we're in the palace. And here's the seat of honour--isn't it fine? And here's a bench at the side--but a guest must always have the seat of honour."

"And what about the master of the house?" asked the girl, with a laugh.

"He'll sit on the bench, of course."

They smiled at each other.