In Sweden, centuries ago, the queen
lay in her bedchamber about to give birth to twins - the
fulfilment of many years of empty longing for the
children she had seemed destined never to conceive. She
smiled as she recalled how she had consulted a
soothsayer, who had assured her that in less than a year
she would be granted two handsome sons, provided that
she ate two fresh onions as soon as she returned to the
palace.
Although this advice had seemed quite bizarre, the queen
had been so aroused by the chance it offered her that
she had rushed away, ignoring the voice of the
soothsayer calling after her. Arriving back home, the
queen had ordered two crisp onions to be brought to her
at once.
The queen was so excited by the promise the onions held
that she ate the first one without stopping even to peel
the skin from it. Not surprisingly, it tasted disgusting
and so, in spite of her enthusiasm, she spend time
carefully peeling the second one, stripping away every
layer of skin before eating it. Nine months had passed
since then, and now, precisely as foretold by the
soothsayer, her greatly desired sons were about to be
born.
Outside the royal bedchamber, the courtiers and the
palace staff were eagerly awaiting the official
announcement of the birth of the new princes. Suddenly,
an ear-splitting scream echoed within the chamber. But
it was not the lusty cry of a newborn baby; it was,
instead, a shriek of horror, a wail that sprang from the
throat of the royal midwife when she set eyes upon the
queen's first child. It was a male - but it was not
human.
The queen had given birth to a lindorm, a hideous,
snakelike dragon, whose wingless body thrashed upon the
marble floor in scaly coils, and from whose shoulders
sprang a pair of powerful limbs with taloned feet. So
repulsed by the creature that she was unable even to
whisper, let alone scream, the queen leaned down, took
the young lindorm in her hands and hurled it through the
window into the dense forest surrounding the palace.
Weakened from the exertion, the queen sank back upon the
bed and gave birth again, this time to a perfect healthy,
fresh-faced boy, with golden hair and sparkling blue
eyes.
Years passed, and the boy became a youthful prince in
search of a bride, but what he found was his brother,
the lindorm. The prince was riding around the edge of
the vast forest encompassing the palace when, without
warning, a huge head emerged from a thorny bush directly
in front of him. Rearing up until its green-scaled body
resembled a towering tree, the lindorm gazed down at the
youth with unblinking amber eyes that penetrated his
innermost thoughts. And as the prince stared back,
mesmerized and motionless, he heard its voice assuring
him with cold, reptilian detachment and certainty that
he would never find a wife until he, the elder brother,
had obtained the true love of a willing bride.
Accordingly, over the next few months a succession of
village maidens was given to the lindorm in the hope of
overcoming this barrier to the young prince's quest for
a bride. Needless to say, none of the maidens came
willingly, however, and so none was accepted by the
monster. The situation seemed irredeemable, until the
next maiden selected to be the bride of the lindorm had
the good fortune to encounter the same soothsayer whom
the queen had consulted so many years before. After
listening while the maiden spoke of her impending plight,
the soothsayer whispered into her ear a few words that
swiftly replaced her sadness with a smile of delight.
That night, the maiden was presented to the lindorm, who
gruffly told her to take off her dresses, of which she
seemed to be wearing a surprising number. She agreed to
do this, but only after extracting from the lindorm the
promise that for every dress she took off, it would shed
a layer of skin. This it did, until only one remained,
and until the maiden was clothed in just a single simple
garment
Despite remembering the soothsayer's words, it was not
without nervousness that she removed this final gown and
stood naked before the great dragon. The lindorm moved
toward her, and the maiden tensed - fearing, yet also
desiring, what was to come, for if the soothsayer had
spoken truthfully there would be great happiness and
great love ahead. And so she stood erect and motionless
as the serpentine monster leisurely, almost tenderly,
enveloped her body in its scaly coils. She had expected
them to feel cold and slimy, but was pleasantly
surprised by their warmth and softness when they
embraced and caressed her. Even so, she felt a flicker
of terror rising within her and desire to flee. Then the
words of the soothsayer came back into her mind, calming
her, and she relaxed again.
Gazing about, she noticed that the lindorm's last layer
of skin, so thin as to be almost translucent, was
starting to peel away, folding back upon itself like a
cluster of withered leaves. At the same time, a strange
green mist manifested itself, enveloping the lindorm,
until she was aware of its presence only by the embrace
of its sinuous body. Gradually the mist dispersed and
revealed that she was no longer wrapped within the
serpentine coils of a lindorm, but held in the firm arms
of the most handsome man she had ever seen.
The soothsayer had indeed spoken truthfully. By
following her instructions, the maiden had dispelled the
enchantment that had incarcerated him within the body of
a lindorm, and here was the elder prince, heir to the
throne, for whom she would certainly be a willing bride.
The joyful marriage took place without delay, and after
the old queen had given her blessing to the newlyweds,
now the king and queen, she felt a light tap on her
shoulder. It was the sootsayer, who revealed the
information the queen had not stayed to hear all those
years ago - to be sure to peel both onions before eating
them.