Where Words End
a Tiny Kingdom tale about trust, being supported, and where horses begin when words end
The young doe had come from far away.
She was curious about every path she had never taken, and one day that curiosity had simply carried her off before she had given much thought to where she might end up.
The rain had only just stopped when her journey brought her to the Tiny Kingdom. The forest path gleamed beneath the trees, and heavy drops were still falling from the leaves into the moss.
Not far away, the Queen was walking with Prince Dingus and Princess Guusje. Guusje was following a trail along the edge of the path, while Dingus walked quietly beside the Queen.
They had almost reached the bend by the stream when Guusje suddenly stopped.
At the edge of the path stood a young doe, mud on her legs and a few leaves caught in her coat.
Somewhere nearby, a branch cracked.
The doe froze, her ears turning sharply towards the sound. Her gaze swept the trees, the undergrowth, then the path again. Only when she saw Guusje coming closer did some of the tension leave her body. Even then, she kept watching.
A movement among the leaves. A bird lifting from a low branch. The path behind the Queen. And beneath all that watchfulness, her curiosity was still there, wondering where every little path might lead.
The Queen walked towards her calmly.
“Welcome. I’m glad you’re here.”
The doe looked at her. There was still something watchful in her eyes, as though she were trying to work out what might be hidden behind the words. Guusje had already come close and wanted to know whether the doe would play with her later. The doe looked from Guusje to the Queen and back again.
“Really?”
“Of course,” said Guusje, as though it had never occurred to her that anyone might say such a thing without meaning it.
When they walked on, Dingus naturally took a place beside the doe, close enough to keep her company, with just enough space between them to ask nothing of her.
That evening she was given a place to sleep near the castle, close to Dingus’s bed. She lay awake for a while listening to the unfamiliar sounds around her, until she slowly realised that nothing was expected of her.
The following afternoon they sat beneath the old chestnut tree behind the castle. The conversation found its own way to her journey and the place she had come from. The doe spoke easily about others: what they had been through, what they had feared, and how she had always tried to help.
After a while, the Queen gently asked who had ever looked after her.
The doe looked up.
For the first time that afternoon, the words were gone.
Dingus, who had been lying in the grass a little way off, got up and came over to her.
He looked at her for a moment and suggested they go to the Northern Field, to the horses. When the doe gave him a questioning look, he smiled softly. “They hear what you don’t say.” He paused. “That sometimes makes it easier.”
Not long afterwards, Dingus and Guusje walked with her to meet the prince and princess of the Northern Field.
Prince Losos, the dark prince, came towards them first. He was large and calm, and there was something in the quiet way he moved that made the doe stay where she was as he approached. When Losos stood beside her, she felt the warmth of his side and, almost without thinking, wanted to lean against him.
Her legs braced themselves at once, as though they were afraid they would have to catch her the moment he stepped away. Losos stayed where he was. Dingus stood close by. “You can lean,” he said softly. “He’ll stay.”
The doe tried carefully, at first resting hardly any weight at all against his warm side.
Her legs remained stiff and straight beneath her.
Losos simply stayed. She waited a little longer, as though he might still prove her right at any moment, then carefully let a little more of her weight rest against him. Still he stayed.
Only when the doe stepped away again did Dingus look at her. “See?” She was not quite sure what she had seen. She only knew that Losos had stayed when she had truly allowed herself to lean on him, even a little.
While she was still thinking about that, Esplendida came closer, the white princess of the Northern Field.
She moved differently from Losos. Her ears turned, her feet shifted often, and her gaze moved from one thing to another, making her seem more restless than the dark prince. At once, the doe felt her own watchfulness sharpen.
When Esplendida suddenly turned her head aside, the doe startled. The familiar thought came immediately. She had done something wrong. Perhaps she had come too close. Perhaps she had asked too much. Perhaps Esplendida did not want her there.
Still, she stayed.
Esplendida looked back at her, came closer, then turned away again a moment later. The doe followed every movement, as though she could not afford to miss the smallest change. Each time Esplendida turned away, the old doubt rose again. Each time she came back, the doe did not quite know what to make of it.
Then her eyes fell on the small crown-shaped marking between Esplendida’s eyes. For one brief moment, a great golden star appeared there.
The doe held her breath and felt tears spring to her eyes.
For just a moment, the Prince from the Other Kingdom was close. She saw him only briefly, long enough to recognise him and see him give her the small, encouraging nod she knew so well.
Then he was gone again.
The doe kept looking at the place between Esplendida’s eyes where she had just seen the golden star. She did not understand why he had appeared there. She only knew that for one brief moment he had been very close, close to her and to the white princess of the Northern Field, and that she would carry that image with her.
Dingus was still beside her. He asked nothing, but gave her a warm smile.
On the way back to the castle, Guusje ran a little way ahead. At the edge of the forest she turned around and asked, “Are you coming to play?”
The doe hesitated for just a moment, as she always did when something was offered to her so freely.
Then she ran after Guusje.