The Frog King

Word Count: 1, 462

          Gemma awoke to the midnight dew just settling in on her window. She peered through the dew-soaked window and looked into the distance at the woods she so often was refused to adventure through. She breathed in deep as she remembered the dream that awoke her time and time again, the dream that made her want to adventure into the woods called Lorien Glades even more. She couldn’t remember exactly what happened in her dream; all she knew was that there was something waiting for her deep inside the shadowy mystery of Lorien Glades.

          She stood, pushing the warm haven of her blankets off her. She paced her room, trying to forget the Glades, trying to talk some sense into her. She just couldn’t disobey her family, but she knew there was more to her life than helping her family again and again on their farm. She loved animals; but she had had too much of them, she wanted to be free, not to be forced to follow the same routine every day. At her eighteen years she decided she was old enough to venture into the unknown. She quickly got dressed into a thin green dress, and put a warm, black cloak around her.

          Without another thought and without bringing anything else but the clothes on her back, and her small Lyre, she stepped outside her room and walked towards the great wall of trees surrounding the north side of the barn. She brought her Lyre close to her as she stepped cautiously into the sheer darkness of the trees that she was so often refused. She stopped, breathing hard and turned to stare into the window of her parent’s room. “I’m sorry,” she whispered gently as her breathing calmed, and her hands stopped shaking.

          She closed her eyes briefly, knowing this would be the last she saw of her farm, which felt almost like a prison. She opened her eyes, and walked hastily into the forest. She ventured through the whole night, until the sun came up to the middle of the sky. She sat down momentarily, and realized she had forgotten to bring food or anything at that. She looked up into the tree branches and saw the sun beams resting in a perfect straight line from the sky, all the way to the grass around her. She played her Lyre, and sang an old song gently, lulling any creature around her into a deep sleep.

          She stood and walked deeper into the depths of the forest, the longer she walked, the thicker the trees seemed to appear. The darkness fell, and with it she settled into the cushion of the grass, her cape tightly around her, and her Lyre clutched firmly.

          She awoke mysteriously abruptly, she quickly opened her eyes and saw a pair of bright green eyes staring right back at her, she stared long and hard realizing the pupil of this creature was oddly shaped, it looked like a cats eye, except not quite as long. The eyes were a shade of green she had never seen before.

          Then almost as quickly as she had waken up, her senses came back to her. She jolted to her feet staring down into the utter darkness, trying to see the creature that had roused her. Suddenly she heard a low, long ribbet. She relaxed and set back down to sleep. Those were odd eyes for a frog. she thought, as she drifted into the mysteries of slumber.

          Gemma opened her eyes to gentle sunlight resting lightly against her face. She stood, stiff and cold, she badly wanted a long bath, and a large hot meal. She frowned and continued to walk quietly singing to herself.

          Her stomach was beginning to churn, her legs felt like they were aflame, and she felt the dirt around her body. To make matters worse, she walked right into a large mud-pit, and fell on her hands and knees. Gemma swore under her breath and stood, whipping her hair back, and then noticed she had just put mud all through her hair. The mud felt cool against her skin, making her feel even colder, and dirtier.

          Gemma walked silently, and decided not to sing anymore. She heard a long ribbet behind her, and turned to see a frog resting idly on a log. She stopped and walked to the frog, she bent her face so close she could see directly into its eyes. They were the same eyes she had seen the night before. Her eyes widened in awe, and then she laughed quietly to herself, and turned ignoring the frog, to make her way deeper into the forest.

          She listened hard, and could hear the rustling of leaves, and the hopping of a frog behind her. Is this frog following me? she asked herself, and laughed again at the absurdity of her thoughts. She could see the sky no longer, the mud was drying on her skin, cracking every time she moved and she felt like someone was watching her.

          Gemma finally decided to stop, and stood motionless, just listening. She heard nothing. Then she felt something thump onto her boot, she looked down and saw the same frog resting on her foot. She shook her head in disbelief and bent down to pick up the frog. Cradled between both her hands she brought the frog to her face, and stared into the same familiar eyes. There was something odd about the frog’s eyes, they seemed to hold intelligence.

          The frog stood motionless in her hands, staring right back at her. She asked quietly, more to herself than to the frog. “Are you following me?” Then felt the illogicalness of her question. To her surprise the frog looked like it nodded. She almost dropped the frog in her shock. She decided she would bring this frog with her on her journey. “You will join me, and keep me company. I think I will call you Hermy.” She decided, and swore she saw the frog nod yet again. “My name is Gemma.”

          She continued her walk, and found herself talking freely to her companion. She stopped only when she could see no longer. She settled down, resting the frog beside her gently. Her stomach grumbled yet again, and she clutched it, thinking hard of the roast beasts and potatoes she so often ate at home. Gemma looked around her, and ate some wild mushrooms; her father had taught her which ones to eat, and which ones to avoid.

          Gemma took out her Lyre, and sang gently to Hermy. She could see an intensity in Hermy’s eyes that shook her. She set down her Lyre after she finished her song, and rested beside it, in the cold grass. Hermy hopped silently to her, and laid against the softness, and warmness of her neck.

          She awoke to a low growl from the bushes beside her, and shot up, looking straight into the face of a large creature she had never seen before. Its eyes were gleaming with hunger, and its fangs glinted in the darkness. She tried to scream, but her scream caught in her throat when she saw the foam in the mouth of the beast. She couldn’t move. She sat stupidly staring into its deathly, cold eyes.

          Suddenly Hermy hopped in front of her, between the little space that separated her with the beast. She heard Hermy ribbet loud, and long, as if speaking to the creature. The creature stopped growling, and looked frightened, and then it urgently ran back into the gloomy darkness. Gemma breathed in deep and could smell the aromas of the flowers and wet trees that assaulted her senses. She took Hermy gently in both hands. “Thank you,” She whispered, and she kissed him gently on the top of his head.

          Abruptly Hermy jumped out of her hands, and seemed to glow golden. At first a dim glow, then it grew larger and larger, stopping her from seeing anything in front of her. When the light dissipated she saw a handsome man standing in front of her in place of Hermy. He had golden hair, like the sun, and bright green eyes, with the same long pupil. He looked at her intensely. “I thank you beautiful Gemma for rescuing me from the curse of an evil wytch.” She heard him say, his voice was deep, and polite. “I was the Frog King, but now I am once again the King of the Golden Palace. My name is Adair. Come with me Gemma, and be my Queen?”

          Gemma nodded, certain she was making the right decision. Her excitement flooded her eyes, and he moved closer to her, closing the distance between them. “Kiss me.” He said gently, and leaned in.