~Nursery Rhyme~
Sophie Under the Hill
Her choice of domicile was peculiar, at least to sensibilities distant in time or space, but for all I know it was a rather common phenomenon in that particular place and time, but even if it were not, it suited her and to her mind that was all that mattered, which was as it should be. For you see, she dwelt under a hill and had for as long as local memory could remember, which might as well have been for all eternity as far as most folk were concerned. So it was that this curious old woman, who was apparently never young, acquired a reputation far and wide for not only being rather mysterious, which is what living in any fashion not considered ordinary will gain you, but also for possessing great wisdom, which is the result of living sensibly and being content therein rather than living as your neighbors think you ought and depending solely upon their opinions for your happiness. So it was that her neighbors held her in great awe and even a little fear, at least if an outsider asked them, but amongst themselves they often whispered darkly about the dear lady, with no little of malice and jealously festering beneath their bitter words. For you see, she minded her neighbors not in the least in any matter, preferring to do solely as it pleased her and seeming to thrive thereby which vexed them greatly, for no one should succeed without their input. It was witchery of the vilest sort.
Such an enigmatic and sagacious person held a certain attraction for adventurous youths and questing knights which was not hindered in the least by darker rumors, for who else could offer desperately needed wisdom and advice as such were often seeking? These frequent and unwelcome visitors, at least as the neighbors saw it, only caused further scandal and disquiet in the community, which continued to heighten the dame’s infamy and only drew sooth seekers from even more distant climes. These visits drove the neighbors to distraction but the aged lady welcomed each and every visitor as if he were a lost son come home after many years abroad. Though in truth she was neither a worker of terrible magics nor a possessor of knowledge arcane and grim, but what she did have was something far outside the common ken of mortals, and blessed were those who sought her wisdom and received it with a willing heart. She did not whisper in secret with the shades of ancient sages or count her years more numerous than the usual wont of men. So how was it that this near mystical lady came to be a font of wisdom of which the bold and adventurous, the rich and the powerful, oft came to drink?
She was possessed of a great deal of what is wrongly called commonsense, for though quite sensible it is far from common, and thus did many come to visit with the curious lady who dwelt quaintly under hill. She lived quietly, prudently, and contentedly for many a year, much to the annoyance of her neighbors, who could not comprehend such a life and the enjoyment thereof, yet in their self-inflicted misery thought themselves the happier by far but did not understand the source of their own consternation.
So what great advice or sagacious snippets did she give this vast and curious throng that sought her out over the years? What could a woman who lived under a hill in a far flung district know of the world at large or people in particular? This is what all such visitors often asked themselves, but then they had to remember that often what they most sought was to be found in rather strange places, so contented themselves with imbibing a draught of wisdom from this uncanny font. One such adventurer, a peasant lad of the age when he should be finding something useful to do with his life, one day appeared at her door. He knocked boldly, she opened the door with a small, quiet smile that might have been concealing a knowing laugh, and ushered the awkward boy into the cheerful main room of the infamous cottage under hill. His awkwardness vanished as he took the offered chair, munched upon a cookie, and sipped the fresh brewed tea, feeling as if he were sitting at table with his own dear granny. That spritely smile deepened, as if she knew his thoughts, which was very likely as she was rumored to be all knowing, and she asked if she might refill his tea.
He nodded and then began his tale, as she poured, “I need a direction in life, that is why I am come. But of course you knew that already. So what shall I do? My parents wish me to apprentice with the cobbler and marry a nice girl once I have established myself. I want to go adventuring and become a man of wealth and renown, and likely marry a princess, or at least a noble’s daughter. What must I do to make my dreams come true?”
Said she with the selfsame smile, “what are these dreams for which you reach?”
The boy stared at her blankly, completely lost as to an answer, his mouth half full of cookie. After a moment he shut his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, swallowed slowly, and said in perplexity, “what are my dreams? They are dreams, aspirations, ideals! What else?”
She laughed like a spring rain, “that is all mist and moonbeams lad! Nothing onto which you can hope to gain a hold nor a proper hook on which to hang a life. You need something concrete, something real, something for which to aim. Can you go hunting with such aspirations and hope to come home successful? Nay lad, you must have a target to shoot at or your arrows will be loosed for naught. What is it you want out of life? Where do you want to be ten or twenty years from now?”
The boy gaped at her again, this time with nothing in his mouth, and suddenly shut his hanging jaw with an audible click. He frowned in thought and was silent for an interminable time before finally saying, “I want to be like my father: a prosperous and respected man in the village with a loving, happy family.” He smiled broadly, “your fame is not unearned my lady!” He stood and bowed formally, if awkwardly for lack of practice, “your wisdom gives me hope and direction I would not otherwise have had! Thank you, dear lady!” He nearly skipped out the door and turned his steps towards home, wishing he could start his apprenticeship that very moment.
She watched him go, shaking her head in amusement and that impish smile of delight now sparkling in her eyes. She had long ago given up trying to explain to such guests that they often already possessed the so-called wisdom they sought and merely needed to clarify their own thoughts on the matter in question. Time and again had they given her credit for vast depths of wisdom that she did not necessarily possess. She shook her head ruefully and was about to close the door when her nearest neighbor slipped in at the last moment uninvited, eyeing the remaining cookies and cold tea with interest. Said she without preamble, “more mysterious visitors, hmmm? Care to say more?”
The lady of the house stood by the half open door, as if waiting for her uninvited guest to take the hint and leave, but the invader just stood there waiting for an explanation and fresh tea. The good dame continued to stand there in silence and her neighbor’s consternation grew by the moment, finally she turned on her heel and in a flutter of skirts and apron, the nosy woman retreated to gossip with her cronies about the abominable manners and the sinister dealings she was no doubt having with all these strangers as she was unwilling to discuss the matter with her nearest and dearest. The old woman’s smile now held an ironic twist, knowing exactly what tale her exasperated neighbor was even now carrying to the rest of the village. She laughed outright and went to put the tea things in order.