A Tale of Fur and Flesh by Unknown Read Free Book Online Page B

continued.
    She ought to tell him her name.  What was it,
again?   Ah yes, Allerleirauh.   But this man was her father’s enemy. 
Then again, was not she her father’s enemy too?  None of that mattered as long
as she concealed her true identity.  But if she were to reveal her
identity, would this man imprison her or protect her?  It was all too much to
process.  And the cook!  How long had Lally been away from the kitchen?  Cook
would come searching for her.
    “I must go,” she yelped, releasing the king’s warm
hand and darting for the door.
    Fleeing through the shimmering corridor, Allerleirauh
stumbled down the stairs to the underground kitchen.  She threw her comforting
mantle over the dress as gold as the sun.  Falling to her knees at the hearth,
she panted as she swept the ashes.   
    “Why, there you are, hairy animal!” the cook cried. 
“Leave that sweeping ‘til morning.  I’ve another task for you.  I’m going
upstairs to take a gander at the goings-on.  I’ll need you to fix the king’s
soup.  Just don’t let any hair fall in it, or I’ll not be feeding you in
future.  Not even scraps.  You hearing me, hairy beast?”
    Allerleirauh nodded beneath her wolf’s head. 
Anything for a moment’s peace!  Sitting in cinders, she reflected on the king.  Aelwyn.   What a wonderful man.  “Aelwyn,” she said, tasting his name in
her mouth.  King Aelwyn and Queen Allerleirauh.
    Ah, yes, the soup.  Cook had never asked her to
prepare food unsupervised, and she had never done so at home.  How did one go
about making soup?  It was soupy, so it must contain broth.  Where did they
keep the broth?  Oh, it was hopeless!  And if she shed hair in it, which she
was sure to do, she might never eat again.  Just while the cook was upstairs,
she took off her hairy cloak and set it in the corner.
    Into the pot, she threw carrots and onions and bread
and stock.  What else went into soup?  And how did one judge when it was ready
to serve?  Staring at the violently erupting bubbles, Lally’s thoughts returned
to king Aelwyn: his gleaming skin, his large hands, and his noble but kind
demeanor.  This soup was for him.  It must be perfect. 
    She went to her little den and searched for some
small object she could put into the soup to make it special.  What had she to
give?  Ah, yes.  She knew just the thing!  Into the bowl, Lally placed a small
cord of golden thread.  Aelwyn would drink Allerleirauh’s bread soup and
recognize that someone special had prepared it, lovingly, for him.
    Heavy footsteps fell against the stairs.  Lally’s
heart went cold.  Cook could not see her in her mother’s dress!  Fleeing to the
corner, she slipped the mantle over her shoulders, and the wolf’s head over her
golden hair.  Whirling around, she saw through Wolf’s eyes that it was not Cook
at all.  “Oh, Liam!  ‘Tis only you,” Lally sighed with relief.  “Cook has gone
above ground to observe the feast.  I had to make this soup myself.  I fear the
good King will find it a most unsavory meal.”
    “I’m sure he will and all, wild beast,” retorted
young Liam, the excessively proud server.  “Your soup is probably hairy as you
are!”
    Could Lally not ask for one sliver of kindness from
the servants of this palace?  Squinting through her tears, she ladled a small
serving of bread soup into the specially-prepared bowl.  King Aelwyn would not
wish for any more.  He would likely have one spoonful and reject the rest. 
Staring at the oil spots floating atop the pot of soup, Lally’s stomach turned
that the King might discard it.  How could she allow that?  Reaching for the
soup bowl to throw its contents back into the pot, she found it had
disappeared.  Liam too was gone.  Lally’s face burned at the thought of the
King, upstairs at his feast, eating her dreadful meal.  The soup pot mocked
her.  Curious, and fearing Cook might never let her eat again, she slurped
broth