Wrede Patricia C - Enchanted Forest 01 - Dealing with Dragon.pdf - Enchanted Forest - SiriusBlack4

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Dealing With Dragons / Book One of the Enchanted Forest Chronicles

Patricia C. Wrede

In Which Cimorene Refuses to Be Proper

and Has a Conversation with a Frog

Linderwall was a large kingdom, just east of the

Mountains of Morning, where philosophers were

highly respected and the number five was fashionable.

The climate was unremarkable. The knights kept their

armor brightly polished mainly for show—it had been

centuries since a dragon had come east. There were the

usual periodic problems with royal children and un-

invited fairy godmothers, but they were always the sort

of thing that could be cleared up by finding the proper

prince or princess to marry the unfortunate child a few

years later. All in all, Linderwall was a very prosperous

and pleasant place.

Cimorene hated it.

Cimorene was the youngest daughter of the King

of Linderwall, and her parents found her rather trying.

Their first six daughters were perfectly normal prin-

cesses, with long, golden hair and sweet dispositions,

each more beautiful than the last. Cimorene was lovely

enough, but her hair was jet black, and she wore it in

braids instead of curled and pinned like her sisters.

And she wouldn't stop growing. Her parents were

quite sure that no prince would want to marry a girl

who could look him in the eye instead of gazing up at

him becomingly through her lashes. As for the girl's

disposition—well, when people were being polite, they

said she was strong-minded. When they were angry or

annoyed with her, they said she was as stubborn as a

Pig-

The King and Queen did the best they could. They

hired the most superior tutors and governesses to teach

Cimorene all the things a princess ought to know—

dancing, embroidery, drawing, and etiquette. There

was a great deal of etiquette, from the proper way to

curtsy before a visiting prince to how loudly it was

permissible to scream when being carried off by a giant.

(Linderwall still had an occasional problem with giants.)

Cimorene found it all very dull, but she pressed

her lips together and learned it anyway. When she

couldn't stand it any longer, she would go down to the

castle armory and bully the armsmaster into giving her

a fencing lesson. As she got older, she found her reg-

ular lessons more and more boring. Consequently, the

fencing lessons became more and more frequent.

When she was twelve, her father found out.

"Fencing is not proper behavior for a princess," he

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told her in the gentle-but-firm tone recommended by

the court philosopher.

Cimorene tilted her head to one side. "Why not?"

"It's ... well, it's simply not done."

Cimorene considered. "Aren't I a princess?"

"Yes, of course you are, my dear," said her father

with relief. He had been bracing himself for a storm of

tears, which was the way his other daughters reacted

to reprimands.

"Well, I fence," Cimorene said with the air of one

delivering an unshakable argument. "So it is too done

by a princess."

"That doesn't make it proper, dear," put in her

mother gently.

"Why not?"

"It simply doesn't," the Queen said firmly, and

that was the end of Cimorene's fencing lessons.

When she was fourteen, her father discovered that

she was making the court magician teach her magic.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked

wearily when she arrived in response to his summons.

"Since you stopped my fencing lessons," Cimorene

said. "I suppose you're going to tell me it isn't proper

behavior for a princess."

"Well, yes. I mean, it isn't proper."

"Nothing interesting seems to be proper," Cim-

orene said.

"You might find things more interesting if you

applied yourself a little more, dear," Cimorene's

mother said.

"I doubt it," Cimorene muttered, but she knew

better than to argue when her mother used that tone

of voice. And that was the end of the magic lessons.

The same thing happened over the Latin lessons

from the court philosopher, the cooking lessons from

the castle chef, the economics lessons from the court

treasurer, and the juggling lessons from the court min-

strel. Cimorene began to grow rather tired of the whole

business.

When she was sixteen, Cimorene summoned her

fairy godmother.

"Cimorene, my dear, this sort of thing really isn't

done," the fairy said, fanning away the scented blue

smoke that had accompanied her appearance.

"People keep telling me that," Cimorene said.

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"You should pay attention to them, then," her

godmother said irritably. "I'm not used to being hauled

away from my tea without warning. And you aren't

supposed to call me unless it is a matter of utmost

importance to your life and future happiness."

"It is of utmost importance to my life and future

happiness," Cimorene said.

"Oh, very well. You're a bit young to have fallen

in love already; still, you always have been a precocious

child. Tell me about him."

Cimorene sighed. "It isn't a him."

"Enchanted, is he?" the fairy said with a spark of

interest. "A frog, perhaps? That used to be quite pop-

ular, but it seems to have gone out of fashion lately.

Nowadays, all the princes are talking birds, or dogs,

or hedgehogs."

"No, no, I'm not in love with anyone!"

"Then what, exactly, is your problem?" the fairy

said in exasperation.

"This!" Cimorene gestured at the castle around

her. "Embroidery lessons, and dancing, and—and

being a princess!"

"My dear Cimorene!" the fairy said, shocked. "It's

your heritage!"

"It's boring."

"Boring?" The fairy did not appear to believe what

she was hearing.

"Boring. I want to do things, not sit around all day

and listen to the court minstrel make up songs about

how brave Daddy is and how lovely his wife and

daughters are."

"Nonsense, my dear. This is just a stage you're

going through. You'll outgrow it soon, and you'll be

very glad you didn't do anything rash."

Cimorene looked at her godmother suspiciously.

"You've been talking to my parents, haven't you?"

"Well, they do try to keep me up to date on what

my godchildren are doing."

"I thought so," said Cimorene, and bade her fairy

godmother a polite good-bye.

A few weeks later, Cimorene's parents took her to a

tourney in Sathem-by-the-Mountains, the next king-

dom over. Cimorene was quite sure that they were only

taking her because her fairy godmother had told them

that something had better be done about her, and soon.

She kept this opinion to herself. Anything was better

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than the endless rounds of dancing and embroidery

lessons at home.

Cimorene realized her mistake almost as soon as

they reached their destination, for the King of Sathem-

by-the-Mountains had a son. He was a golden-haired,

blue-eyed, and exceedingly handsome prince, whose

duties appeared to consist entirely of dancing atten-

dance on Cimorene.

"Isn't he handsome!" Cimorene's lady-in-waiting

sighed.

"Yes," Cimorene said without enthusiasm. "Un-

fortunately, he isn't anything else."

"Whatever do you mean?" the lady-in-waiting said

in astonishment.

"He has no sense of humor, he isn't intelligent, he

can't talk about anything except tourneys, and half of

what he does say he gets wrong. I'm glad we're only

staying three weeks. I don't think I could stand to be

polite to him for much longer than that."

"But what about your engagement?" the lady-in-

waiting cried, horrified.

"What engagement?" Cimorene said sharply.

The lady-in-waiting tried to mutter something

about a mistake, but Cimorene put up her chin in her

best princess fashion and insisted on an explanation.

Finally, the lady-in-waiting broke down.

"I ... I overheard Their Majesties discussing it

yesterday." She sniffled into her handkerchief. "The

stipulations and covenants and contracts and settle-

ments have all been drawn up, and they're going to

sign them the day after tomorrow and announce it on

Th-Thursday."

"I see," said Cimorene. "Thank you for telling me.

You may go."

The lady-in-waiting left, and Cimorene went to see

her parents. They were annoyed and a little embar-

rassed to find that Cimorene had discovered their

plans, but they were still very firm about it. "We were

going to tell you tomorrow, when we signed the pa-

pers," her father said.

"We knew you'd be pleased, dear," her mother

said, nodding. "He's such a good-looking boy."

"But I don't want to marry Prince Therandil," Cim-

orene said.

"Well, it's not exactly a brilliant match," Cim-

orene's father said, frowning. "But I didn't think you'd

care how big his kingdom is."

"It's the prince I don't care for," Cimorene said.

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"That's a great pity, dear, but it can't be helped,"

Cimorene's mother said placidly. "I'm afraid it isn't

likely that you'll get another offer."

"Then I won't get married at all."

Both her parents looked slightly shocked. "My dear

Cimorene!" said her father. "That's out of the question.

You're a princess; it simply isn't done."

"I'm too young to get married!"

"Your Great-Aunt Rose was married at sixteen,"

her mother pointed out. "One really can't count all

those years she spent asleep under that dreadful fairy's

curse."

"I won't marry the prince of Sathem-by-the-Moun-

tains!" Cimorene said desperately. "It isn't proper!"

"What?" said both her parents together.

"He hasn't rescued me from a giant or an ogre or

freed me from a magic spell," Cimorene said.

Both her parents looked uncomfortable. "Well,

no," said Cimorene's father. "It's a bit late to start

arranging it, but we might be able to manage some-

thing."

"I don't think it's necessary," Cimorene's mother

said. She looked reprovingly at Cimorene. "You've

never paid attention to what was or wasn't suitable

before, dear; you can't start now. Proper or not, you

will marry Prince Therandil three weeks from Thurs-

day."

"But, Mother—"

"I'll send the wardrobe mistress to your room to

start fitting your bride clothes," Cimorene's mother said

firmly, and that was the end of the conversation.

Cimorene decided to try a more direct approach. She

went to see Prince Therandil. He was in the castle

armory, looking at swords. "Good morning. Princess,"

he said when he finally noticed Cimorene. "Don't you

think this is a lovely sword?"

Cimorene picked it up. "The balance is off."

"I believe you're right," said Therandil after a mo-

ment's study. "Pity; now I'll have to find another. Is

there something I can do for you?"

"Yes," said Cimorene. "You can not marry me."

"What?" Therandil looked confused.

"You don't really want to marry me, do you?"

Cimorene said coaxingly.

"Well, not exactly," Therandil replied. "I mean, in

a way. That is—"

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