Chaton Curieux and the Ogre's Cave

What? You want a story? <ponders> I could have sworn I told one just last... oh, ok. I'll tell you a story. What kind of story do you... an old one, hmmm? One you've never heard before?

Ok, a long time ago, ages and ages, before your grandparents' grandparents' grandparents were born, before there were computers or TV or even radio, when people got from place to place by walking or, if they were in a hurry and lucky they rode a horse, way back then there was a little girl born. She was, like many a child, curious and always poking her nose into things and so her parents called her their chaton curieux (curious kitten) and soon she was known only by that name.

Now, Chaton was a good girl but her curiosity sometimes got her in trouble and led to many tales. This story is not, however, the tale of how she saved the town from a fire. Nor is it the story of how she found (and lost) a pirate's treasure. It's not even the oft-told tale of Chaton Curieux and how she found true love nor any of the stories that came after that. No, today's story is the tale of what happened when she found a cave and how she dealt with what was inside.

It was, she would later tell folks, all the butterfly's fault. She had been lying in the grass on a warm summer's day just watching the clouds drift across the sky, pretending that they were animals and people and all manner of strange things. And, since she was so wrapped up in watching the clouds, she was very still and so a butterfly came to rest on her nose, which startled her which caused the butterfly to wing away. And so, not knowing how to catch butterflies, she chased after it. And, every time it came to rest, she would creep closer, entranced by the beautiful reds and golds and yellows that the butterfly wore. But each time she got close, the butterfly would flutter away and soon she was far from home and in a part of the woods she normally didn't enter. And still the butterfly floated just out of reach.

She was about to give up and head home when she heard a voice singing. It was faint and she couldn't understand the words but the song touched her deeply, making her melt inside and her curiosity well up. Forgetting the butterfly entirely, she followed the faint voice until she came to a hole in the side of a hill. Fortunately for her, she was still a ways from the hole when she heard a loud tromping coming from the forest and headed her way. While she may be curious, she was also smart and so she hid to see what was making such a noise.

Soon she was surprised to see what looked like a man coming through the woods. Though that may have only been her first impression. He was huge, much larger than her father, larger even than the blacksmith who shoed the horses and could bend and shape metal even when it was cold. This man was twice as large and looked something like the dolls she’d once attempted to make out of mud. While you could tell he was human shaped, he wasn’t complete and he was lumpy and uneven. His huge head seemed to be welded to his torso without advantage of a neck and he had the trunk of a tree over his shoulder like a club. Chaton was sure that he would never fit within the hole but as he approached either the hole grew or he shrank, she wasn’t sure which, and he entered without a problem, and shortly the music stopped.

This made Chaton even more curious. So she made her way toward the hill and the hole inside and something strange happened. As she got closer, the hill grew. The top reached toward the sky with every step she took and the sides seemed to expand until, when she was finally up close to the hole, she seemed to be near a mountain, not a simple hill. And the hole was large enough to have swallowed the manor house with room left over for knights to be able to practice jousting. She felt very small but her curiosity was very large and so she slipped into the hole and found that it was a large cave, stretching back and winding away in twisty little pathways.

Then she heard the singing again, more clearly than she had heard it in the forest but she still couldn’t understand the words. Still, it drew her forward like a magnet draws iron. As she came to turnings in the winding passageways, she would scuff her shoes in the dirt to show the way she had come so she wouldn’t get lost. And she found herself heading down, deeper into the cave. At last she came to a door, a huge door, one she despaired of ever being able to open, though the music seemed to come from the other side. Driven by her curiosity, she pushed on the door, amazed to find it open enough so that she could slip through.

She found herself in a large room, cluttered with stuff in piles and precarious heaps. But her eyes were drawn to a cage hanging from a stand next to a table, for that was where the music was coming from. She was unable to see what was in the cage from where she was but she made her way over to the table and climbed up the rungs of a rickety chair so she could stand on the seat and see into the cage. And there she found the most amazing thing, a small girl, about half her size with the most beautiful and delicate wings. She was sitting on a stool that appeared to be made of gold and contrasted with the cage itself, which appeared to be of dull, grey iron. And as she sat she sang, all the while large tears slowly dropped from her eyes.

Chaton scrambled up onto the table and got as close to the cage as she could. “Why are you crying?” she asked.

The figure stopped singing, startled at the appearance of someone where nobody had been expected. “Who are you?” she asked in a voice that was light and airy and didn’t fit with being in a cave at all.

“I am Chaton Curieux and I was following a butterfly to take a look at it up close when I heard you singing and so I followed the music until I came to a cave and then I crept in after the huge man and followed your singing until I got here. But why are you crying?” asked Chaton, because she could be singularly persistent when her curiosity took over.

“I am crying because that man you followed, who is really a ogre, captured me and is keeping me prisoner in this cage. You see, it all happened on midsummer’s night when the whole of the fairy king’s court was celebrating. We were having a truly wonderful time, dancing and singing and I got carried away and started to spin and leap and made the mistake of leaping outside of our fairy ring, which wouldn’t have been so bad except that this ogre was there and caught me.

“I tried to use my magic on him, singing to him, but he was immune to my voice. I think he is actually tone deaf, for I have sung to him in many different ways and he doesn’t even seem to react to the fact that the songs are different. To him, one song is the same as another. And he keeps me in this cage of iron, knowing I can’t even touch it because it hurts me.”

Chaton looked at the fairy with pity and then said, “I will help you get free.”

“It won’t be easy,” said the fairy. “There is a lock on the cage, but if you could get the door open, I could fly out of here and we could escape.”

Chaton looked at the cage and the lock and found the key was still in it, something the fairy couldn’t see because she couldn’t get close enough to the iron to look down and see where the lock was hanging. “I think,” she said, standing on the very edge of the table and stretching toward the cage, “that I can reach the cage and unlock it.”

“Be careful,” replied the fairy. “The ogre is sleeping and we don’t want to wake him.”

Chaton nodded and stretched further and was just able to brush the edge of the cage with her fingers. She pushed the cage and it rocked slightly, bringing it a little closer. She kept this up until the lock was within her grasp and she grabbed it, turned the key and gave the lock a yank, opening the cage door but setting the cage swinging wildly and causing Chaton to loose her balance and fall to the floor. Fortunately for her, she landed on a pile of cloth and didn’t make much noise, but the fairy, in her rush to get out of the cage, brushed a wing against the cold iron and fell onto Chaton’s back, grimacing in pain.

“Are you alright?” asked Chaton.

“It hurts, but it will heal. I can’t fly but if you can carry me, we can leave. Let’s go.”

Chaton placed the fairy on her shoulder and slipped out the still open door. At each turning of the cave she looked down to see which way her scuffs pointed and soon they were outside and running toward the forest, watching the cave and mountain shrink down to the hill and hole that Chaton had originally found. Then the fairy told Chaton to stop and they turned to face the cave. The fairy sang a strange tune and the hill seemed to fold up in the cave and to disappear, leaving a clearing in the forest.

“The ogre’s home wasn’t really here, he was using a magical gateway, but I have closed it and now we are both safe. And you, my valiant heroine, for saving me, I will grant you three wishes.”

Chaton sat down and pondered in the late summer’s sun. She thought long and hard before she said, “I do not know what to wish for. Can I wait and wish for them later?”

The fairy laughed and produced a fine necklace with a small jewel pendant and put it around Chaton’s neck. “Here, when you want to claim your wish, just put your hand over the jewel and call my name.” And here the fairy leaned over and whispered her true name into Chaton’s ear. While she was doing this, the air filled with the hum of dozens of pairs of wings and the whole fairy court appeared and accepted the fairy back. The fairy king had his personal physician attend the wounded princess (for she was one of his many daughters) and personally thanked Chaton for her aid. Then, with a whistle, he called a butterfly to lead Chaton home and there she went, arriving just in time for supper.

Hmm? Her three wishes? Well, that would be another story for another time.

Yes, this is an original tale. Please credit me if you share it.