The Hunter And The Rusalka
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Legend & Mythology
Legend & Mythology
Based upon the Slavic legend. A hunter stranded on an Arctic island is befriended by a water spirit. Their love will however prove greater than the obstacles.
Written by Mélodie Rivers; first draft published February 3 2017
Written by Mélodie Rivers; first draft published February 3 2017
Ripples of water shimmered silently across the river, unobserved by strangers; except a tall menacing woman, accompanied by a black cat. She smiled victoriously, malice twinkling in her dark eyes, and she blew softly a kiss to the fading ripples. She turned on her heels, and walking away back into the forest bordering the river, she picked up her cat, and whispered to it:
"Time to tell my lover, with deep regret," she chuckled upon saying these words, "that his dear fiancée will not be available any longer."
As she left deep within the woods, only the night sky and the water were witness of the sinking figure gently carried away by the river's currents.
After many weeks, the figure, once a beautiful young maiden, fell to the abyss of the ocean. Soon, glitter of gold and silver seemed to shine from below as the maiden's body continued to descend into the dark water; finally, she was surrounded by several female figures, their long gold hair floating freely, their green eyes luminous, and they softly took her in their arms. Cradling the young maiden, they dived swiftly to the unseen abyss, and soon after, no remaining disturbances hinted of their presence, and of the murdered young maiden's fate.
"Time to tell my lover, with deep regret," she chuckled upon saying these words, "that his dear fiancée will not be available any longer."
As she left deep within the woods, only the night sky and the water were witness of the sinking figure gently carried away by the river's currents.
After many weeks, the figure, once a beautiful young maiden, fell to the abyss of the ocean. Soon, glitter of gold and silver seemed to shine from below as the maiden's body continued to descend into the dark water; finally, she was surrounded by several female figures, their long gold hair floating freely, their green eyes luminous, and they softly took her in their arms. Cradling the young maiden, they dived swiftly to the unseen abyss, and soon after, no remaining disturbances hinted of their presence, and of the murdered young maiden's fate.
**********************
Ripples of water splashed upon the sterile shores of the Novaya Zemlya archipelago, and Mikhail Kosintseva looked with sadness toward the south, where hundreds of miles across the sea was his real home. A fisherman from Solvychegodsky, he had been stranded on the island for now almost two months, since his fishing boat encountered a glacier and broke down; he had barely made it to the nearest shore of the Arctic archipelago. And as winter came upon him during the reparations of his boat, the sea had frozen, preventing him to return home; luckily, a couple had been kind enough to lend him their cottage while they went working during winter in Belushye, Novaya Zemlya's main city.
The cry of a nearby Common Murre broke Mikhail's thoughts, and realizing that the darkness around him had gained a deeper shade of dark, he figured it was nearly evening. Picking up his lantern, he walked back up the shore up to the small cottage, where he knew a warm fire would welcome him, breaking with their lively flames and crackling the long and lonely night.
When he finished his simple supper of fish and potato, Mikhail sat before the fireplace in the cozy living room, and tried to interest himself in one of the few books he had luckily brought with him. But soon, the dead silence in his house, coupled with the dead silence reigning in the tundra surrounding the cottage, made his mind too gloomy to keep up with the book's story. So instead, he decided to liven up his spirit with a song. He picked up his balalaika, and started to play the traditional and lively songs that his family passed on to him. After two months of solitude, he had practised enough to sound almost right, something he had to admit that it would have taken much longer back in Solvychegodsky.
Half an hour passed, and Mikhail was still playing, his heart now lively, his eyes looking at the fire, the flames almost timed to the beat of his songs. Suddenly, he heard some strange noises in the room; he stopped his playing and turned to look around, but the flames of the fire and of the small lamp by his side table weren't enough to fully lit the room. He however didn't seem to see anybody; but he rose anyway and walked to the house front door, making sure it was locked. It was indeed locked, so he walked back to the living room, scanning it once more. He saw and heard nothing.
"Must be the fire... Or the wind. Probably also a rodent crazy enough to get out at this temperature," he rationalized.
Realizing it was now late, he put more wood in the fireplace, and went right to sleep.
The next evening, after another long day in the darkness of the winter, Mikhail started once more to play his balalaika. After half an hour, though, Mikhail started to hear once more the strange sounds. He stopped playing and looked hard, but again, he couldn't see anything. The sounds also stopped. Curious, he picked back up his balalaika, his eyes still scrutinizing the lurking darkness of the room that the light could not reach, and played a few line. Nothing happened.
Mikhail sighed, but his mind couldn't give up, so he turned back toward the flames, and he played again, this time, listening more carefully. Sure thing, after a few minutes of his playing, the sounds reappeared; Mikhail decided not to try and look, but rather to determine what the sounds could possibly be. After awhile, he realized with a start that it sounded exactly like soft dancing footsteps... but how could that be, since his door was locked? How could... whatever it was... enter his house without him noticing it? And who was it? Why was it dancing... and only at his playing?
Since he wasn't going to be able to sleep, Mikhail thought quickly of how he could see the mysterious stranger. Then, it hit him. He stopped playing, and sure enough, the footsteps stopped. No matter how much it intrigued him that the dancing only appeared when he played, it was however very useful as he could now set a trap around the place where he was sure that the mysterious dancer danced. For the first time since he got stranded, he could finally use his fishing skills to good use. He found in a drawer a set of smaller lanterns; returning to the living room, he set them down against the wall along the place where the dancer always appeared, facing his sofa. He then hanged a dark curtain he found in front of them so that they were invisible, and attached a long cord used for his nets to one of its corner, and, lining it as discreetly as possible on the floor, took the cord to his sofa and sat down. Now, when he will start playing again and the dancing reappeared, all he had to do was to yank the cord and the curtain would fall, letting the lanterns finally light the mysterious dancer.
So, he began playing his balalaika, keeping an ear open for any sounds; which soon came, as expected. Silently cheering his good fortune and cleverness, he swiftly yanked on the cord, and turned in his sofa to look as the curtain fell to the floor, a sudden gasp of surprise suddenly giving away the presence of the stranger, and the lanterns finally lit...
Mikhail opened wide his eyes in surprise as stood before him the most beautiful maiden he had ever gazed before. Her eyes emerald green burning like the fire, her long golden hair framing her delicate face, her pale skin like moonlight making her look like a fragile porcelain, she looked at him with a mixture of surprise, fear, and apology. All thoughts of the manner in which she could have entered his house left the mind of Mikhail, and he only sat there on his sofa, looking in wonder at the beautiful stranger. Clumsily, he finally said:
"Err... Hello! I am... I am Mikhail... What is..."
The young maiden looked at him with a bit of fear at first, but seeing that he wasn't making any movement, she smiled shyly.
"I am Rosalia... I am truly sorry for startling you like this but... I have never heard such beautiful music! I could not help but listen and dance to it, it was so... joyous..."
Upon saying this last word, the stranger's face saddened. She then attempted another small smile, and waited for Mikhail to say something. He just looked at her with awe, but then suddenly realized he was being rude, so he rose to go get a blanket, as she was wearing only a light dress. Rosalia started in fear as he approached her with it, but under his soothing calm words and gestures, she let him approach her and place the blanket around her shoulders.
"You are so cold, were you lost?" he asked her, taking her gently before the fireplace.
"Yes," she answered simply, looking at him while he served her a cup of tea.
"I see. You must have been hiding in one of the rooms..."
"Not exactly..." She startled and looked at him with her bright green eyes: "I am so sorry, are you angry at me for that?"
Mikhail smiled, giving her the cup:
"Not at all; I wouldn't allow you to be out in this cold. Its me who should apologize for tricking you..."
Rosalia smiled without replying, and drank her tea with a satisfied look; Mikhail wondered what happened to her and why she was in his house, but he knew better than to press a cold and lost young maiden with questions.
"You should sleep, you look pale; I'll go fetch a pillow so you can sleep in front of the fire," he suggested, leaving the room.
When he returned, Rosalia was examining his balalaika; when he came near her, she looked up with a happy smile, and asked him:
"Could you finish that song you were playing? It was so beautiful, I want to hear it completely!"
Mikhail could not refuse in the face of her fiery green eyes, so he happily obliged; it did not take long before Mikhail realized that Rosalia had fallen sound asleep. He put down his instrument, placed the pillow on the sofa, and as softly as he could, he lifted Rosalia into his arms, an easy feat since she was literally as light as a feather, and placed her as softly on the sofa. She moved a bit, and her hand rested lightly on his arm as he was placing her, and he was strangely moved by such a delicate gesture. He replaced the blanket around her, and then made sure that the fire had enough wood to last the night. Not wishing to lose sight of the strange appearance that suddenly seemed to brighten the dark days and night of winter, he sat down in the nearest chair, and he too fell into a calm sleep not soon after.
The cry of a nearby Common Murre broke Mikhail's thoughts, and realizing that the darkness around him had gained a deeper shade of dark, he figured it was nearly evening. Picking up his lantern, he walked back up the shore up to the small cottage, where he knew a warm fire would welcome him, breaking with their lively flames and crackling the long and lonely night.
When he finished his simple supper of fish and potato, Mikhail sat before the fireplace in the cozy living room, and tried to interest himself in one of the few books he had luckily brought with him. But soon, the dead silence in his house, coupled with the dead silence reigning in the tundra surrounding the cottage, made his mind too gloomy to keep up with the book's story. So instead, he decided to liven up his spirit with a song. He picked up his balalaika, and started to play the traditional and lively songs that his family passed on to him. After two months of solitude, he had practised enough to sound almost right, something he had to admit that it would have taken much longer back in Solvychegodsky.
Half an hour passed, and Mikhail was still playing, his heart now lively, his eyes looking at the fire, the flames almost timed to the beat of his songs. Suddenly, he heard some strange noises in the room; he stopped his playing and turned to look around, but the flames of the fire and of the small lamp by his side table weren't enough to fully lit the room. He however didn't seem to see anybody; but he rose anyway and walked to the house front door, making sure it was locked. It was indeed locked, so he walked back to the living room, scanning it once more. He saw and heard nothing.
"Must be the fire... Or the wind. Probably also a rodent crazy enough to get out at this temperature," he rationalized.
Realizing it was now late, he put more wood in the fireplace, and went right to sleep.
The next evening, after another long day in the darkness of the winter, Mikhail started once more to play his balalaika. After half an hour, though, Mikhail started to hear once more the strange sounds. He stopped playing and looked hard, but again, he couldn't see anything. The sounds also stopped. Curious, he picked back up his balalaika, his eyes still scrutinizing the lurking darkness of the room that the light could not reach, and played a few line. Nothing happened.
Mikhail sighed, but his mind couldn't give up, so he turned back toward the flames, and he played again, this time, listening more carefully. Sure thing, after a few minutes of his playing, the sounds reappeared; Mikhail decided not to try and look, but rather to determine what the sounds could possibly be. After awhile, he realized with a start that it sounded exactly like soft dancing footsteps... but how could that be, since his door was locked? How could... whatever it was... enter his house without him noticing it? And who was it? Why was it dancing... and only at his playing?
Since he wasn't going to be able to sleep, Mikhail thought quickly of how he could see the mysterious stranger. Then, it hit him. He stopped playing, and sure enough, the footsteps stopped. No matter how much it intrigued him that the dancing only appeared when he played, it was however very useful as he could now set a trap around the place where he was sure that the mysterious dancer danced. For the first time since he got stranded, he could finally use his fishing skills to good use. He found in a drawer a set of smaller lanterns; returning to the living room, he set them down against the wall along the place where the dancer always appeared, facing his sofa. He then hanged a dark curtain he found in front of them so that they were invisible, and attached a long cord used for his nets to one of its corner, and, lining it as discreetly as possible on the floor, took the cord to his sofa and sat down. Now, when he will start playing again and the dancing reappeared, all he had to do was to yank the cord and the curtain would fall, letting the lanterns finally light the mysterious dancer.
So, he began playing his balalaika, keeping an ear open for any sounds; which soon came, as expected. Silently cheering his good fortune and cleverness, he swiftly yanked on the cord, and turned in his sofa to look as the curtain fell to the floor, a sudden gasp of surprise suddenly giving away the presence of the stranger, and the lanterns finally lit...
Mikhail opened wide his eyes in surprise as stood before him the most beautiful maiden he had ever gazed before. Her eyes emerald green burning like the fire, her long golden hair framing her delicate face, her pale skin like moonlight making her look like a fragile porcelain, she looked at him with a mixture of surprise, fear, and apology. All thoughts of the manner in which she could have entered his house left the mind of Mikhail, and he only sat there on his sofa, looking in wonder at the beautiful stranger. Clumsily, he finally said:
"Err... Hello! I am... I am Mikhail... What is..."
The young maiden looked at him with a bit of fear at first, but seeing that he wasn't making any movement, she smiled shyly.
"I am Rosalia... I am truly sorry for startling you like this but... I have never heard such beautiful music! I could not help but listen and dance to it, it was so... joyous..."
Upon saying this last word, the stranger's face saddened. She then attempted another small smile, and waited for Mikhail to say something. He just looked at her with awe, but then suddenly realized he was being rude, so he rose to go get a blanket, as she was wearing only a light dress. Rosalia started in fear as he approached her with it, but under his soothing calm words and gestures, she let him approach her and place the blanket around her shoulders.
"You are so cold, were you lost?" he asked her, taking her gently before the fireplace.
"Yes," she answered simply, looking at him while he served her a cup of tea.
"I see. You must have been hiding in one of the rooms..."
"Not exactly..." She startled and looked at him with her bright green eyes: "I am so sorry, are you angry at me for that?"
Mikhail smiled, giving her the cup:
"Not at all; I wouldn't allow you to be out in this cold. Its me who should apologize for tricking you..."
Rosalia smiled without replying, and drank her tea with a satisfied look; Mikhail wondered what happened to her and why she was in his house, but he knew better than to press a cold and lost young maiden with questions.
"You should sleep, you look pale; I'll go fetch a pillow so you can sleep in front of the fire," he suggested, leaving the room.
When he returned, Rosalia was examining his balalaika; when he came near her, she looked up with a happy smile, and asked him:
"Could you finish that song you were playing? It was so beautiful, I want to hear it completely!"
Mikhail could not refuse in the face of her fiery green eyes, so he happily obliged; it did not take long before Mikhail realized that Rosalia had fallen sound asleep. He put down his instrument, placed the pillow on the sofa, and as softly as he could, he lifted Rosalia into his arms, an easy feat since she was literally as light as a feather, and placed her as softly on the sofa. She moved a bit, and her hand rested lightly on his arm as he was placing her, and he was strangely moved by such a delicate gesture. He replaced the blanket around her, and then made sure that the fire had enough wood to last the night. Not wishing to lose sight of the strange appearance that suddenly seemed to brighten the dark days and night of winter, he sat down in the nearest chair, and he too fell into a calm sleep not soon after.
**********************
Several weeks passed since Mikhail's discovery of Rosalia; her enchanting presence brightened his exile on the archipelago, and in exchange for that joy, he had been more than happy to overlook the mystery surrounding her. As he would delight her with his Russian songs, she would delight him with her dances, not to mention her excellent cooking. Something grew between them during those weeks, until one evening, both in front of the fireplace, he reading a book and she attempting a tune on his balalaika, Rosalia stopped and she looked at Mikhail, her green eyes showing a mixture of uneasiness and excitement.
"If I tell you something, would you be able to believe me?"
Mikhail looked up from his book, a bit surprised by her words;
"I assure you I would."
"Even if it would seem impossible?"
Mikhail smiled;
"Since your presence here would have been impossible to me a few weeks ago, I have no choice but to acknowledge the rest."
Rosalia stared at him for a bit longer, but then, she took a deep breath and said:
"I am a rusalka."
Mikhail started. He knew of course of the water spirit rusalka, for it was a legend in his hometown, and in about all of Russia. Not much was known of them, and the few legends that survived differed greatly from one another on their subject.
Rosalia noticed with a small smile that Mikhail was trying to not show his disbelief, so she took out from her dress an ornate wooden comb, and touch the floor near her. Under Mikhail's disbelieving eyes, a small pond of water appeared by her side where the comb touched the floor; he approached it carefully and peaked, only to see an endless end to the pond of water, as if it went through his soil and the ground down back to the sea floor. Rosalia touched the pond with her comb, and it disappeared, leaving only the dry floor. Mikhail sat back in his chair, his eyes wide in surprise at the revelation.
"So... so the reason I could not see or find you, the first times..."
"I would return to the pond when you would stop playing," Rosalia ended. "I did not want to frighten you; my kind has not always been met with such kindness as the one you gave me.
>> I was not always a rusalka. Centuries ago, in Nizhny Novgorod, I was to be married to a wonderful man; but a witch became jealous, and she attempted to woe him away from me. But when he would not sway, and remained faithful to me, so she drowned me in punishment. I was however luckily taken in the water spirit world by the Goddess Mokos, and she gave me back a life as a rusalka. Rosalia is the name given to me by Her. I can come sometime back on the land that I love, but it is sadly only for short hours; however..." Rosalia paused, her eyes showing worry, "I can live longer out of the water if..."
"If what?" Mikhail asked, eager to know; he did not wish to see her go away so soon, and she did not deserved to live alone in the waters as the consequence of jealousy.
"Goddess Mokos grants me, I mean, all rusalki, two seasons on land, if we are to live with someone that loves us during that time."
Rosalia looked with pleading eyes at Mikhail, her green eyes gleaming under the restrained tears, and asked in a small voice:
"I... I would not ever see me live with someone else but you, Mikhail... Will you accept me, despite who I am, and grant me your heart as well?"
Mikhail did not hesitate. He leaned eagerly toward Rosalia, and planted a firm kiss on her pale lips, holding her face between his hands.
"I will do better," he said, when they separated. He looked around, and found a stray of hay; he took one strand, and formed a ring with it, and then turned to Rosalia: "Will you become my wife? I also cannot see me love anyone more than I have come to love since the last weeks."
Rosalia let her tears fall, and she hugged him tightly, joy brightening her fair skin;
"Yes, of course yes, I will, Mikhail!"
They hugged and kissed, and as everything had been now clarified, they cuddled in front of the fire, and slowly fell asleep in each others arms, none of them aware of the cold or the wind rushing through the deserted tundra outside of their warm shelter.
"If I tell you something, would you be able to believe me?"
Mikhail looked up from his book, a bit surprised by her words;
"I assure you I would."
"Even if it would seem impossible?"
Mikhail smiled;
"Since your presence here would have been impossible to me a few weeks ago, I have no choice but to acknowledge the rest."
Rosalia stared at him for a bit longer, but then, she took a deep breath and said:
"I am a rusalka."
Mikhail started. He knew of course of the water spirit rusalka, for it was a legend in his hometown, and in about all of Russia. Not much was known of them, and the few legends that survived differed greatly from one another on their subject.
Rosalia noticed with a small smile that Mikhail was trying to not show his disbelief, so she took out from her dress an ornate wooden comb, and touch the floor near her. Under Mikhail's disbelieving eyes, a small pond of water appeared by her side where the comb touched the floor; he approached it carefully and peaked, only to see an endless end to the pond of water, as if it went through his soil and the ground down back to the sea floor. Rosalia touched the pond with her comb, and it disappeared, leaving only the dry floor. Mikhail sat back in his chair, his eyes wide in surprise at the revelation.
"So... so the reason I could not see or find you, the first times..."
"I would return to the pond when you would stop playing," Rosalia ended. "I did not want to frighten you; my kind has not always been met with such kindness as the one you gave me.
>> I was not always a rusalka. Centuries ago, in Nizhny Novgorod, I was to be married to a wonderful man; but a witch became jealous, and she attempted to woe him away from me. But when he would not sway, and remained faithful to me, so she drowned me in punishment. I was however luckily taken in the water spirit world by the Goddess Mokos, and she gave me back a life as a rusalka. Rosalia is the name given to me by Her. I can come sometime back on the land that I love, but it is sadly only for short hours; however..." Rosalia paused, her eyes showing worry, "I can live longer out of the water if..."
"If what?" Mikhail asked, eager to know; he did not wish to see her go away so soon, and she did not deserved to live alone in the waters as the consequence of jealousy.
"Goddess Mokos grants me, I mean, all rusalki, two seasons on land, if we are to live with someone that loves us during that time."
Rosalia looked with pleading eyes at Mikhail, her green eyes gleaming under the restrained tears, and asked in a small voice:
"I... I would not ever see me live with someone else but you, Mikhail... Will you accept me, despite who I am, and grant me your heart as well?"
Mikhail did not hesitate. He leaned eagerly toward Rosalia, and planted a firm kiss on her pale lips, holding her face between his hands.
"I will do better," he said, when they separated. He looked around, and found a stray of hay; he took one strand, and formed a ring with it, and then turned to Rosalia: "Will you become my wife? I also cannot see me love anyone more than I have come to love since the last weeks."
Rosalia let her tears fall, and she hugged him tightly, joy brightening her fair skin;
"Yes, of course yes, I will, Mikhail!"
They hugged and kissed, and as everything had been now clarified, they cuddled in front of the fire, and slowly fell asleep in each others arms, none of them aware of the cold or the wind rushing through the deserted tundra outside of their warm shelter.
**********************
Months passed on Novaya Zemlya, and Mikhail and Rosalia had never felt happier than they did during that time, warming with their songs and dances the little cottage, the flame of their love lighting up the eternal darkness of winter; toward the end of winter, when the frozen sea thawed slightly, enough to make holes, Mikhail was able to do some fishing for present and future sales, and Rosalia would help him by calling out the fishes.
But such happiness didn't stopped Mikhail from missing the summers at his hometown, and he was starting to be eager to see again his friends and family, especially his nephew, who was growing up faster than Mikhail could keep up with. So, when the first block of ice finally broke apart in the Barents Sea while he was finishing up his catch of the day, Mikhail returned as fast as he could to the cottage, and finding his wife there, caught her in his arms and flung her around, excited. Rosalia laughed and asked him:
"What is the matter, Mikhail?"
Mikhail put her down, his eyes bright with joy;
"The sea is melting! Very soon, we will finally be able to set sail again and return to Solvychegodsky! You will be able to meet my family, and my friends will be so..." He paused as he noticed that Rosalia had lowered her gaze, and was looking very sad. "What is it?"
"I cannot come with you; here is the land where I met you, so only here can I remain out of the water... And that is not all... The allowed time that I have is running out. I will only be able to return each winter on this island, but in summer, I must return to the sea..."
Mikhail realized what she meant; he also remembered the conditions that she once warned him about being a rusalka. He just didn't realized it was already time. He pulled her close to him, and buried his face in her golden hair.
"I wish there was a way we could stay together for more than winters..."
Rosalia lifted her face up to him, and gazed thoughtfully at him, her green eyes gleaming.
"There is one, but I do not think you will take it."
Mikhail startled, and he looked at her with renewed hope.
"What do you mean? Whatever it is, I will take it; I love you more than anything."
Rosalia hesitated, but she knew he meant it, so she explained:
"You could live with me in the rusalki's kingdom; I would not need to go back on dry land only for winters, and we will always be together."
"Is that possible? I am a human after all; how can I live underwater?"
"You are married to a water spirit; anything is possible," she replied, amused.
Mikhail thought about it quickly. It was true he was with a water spirit, and if he remembered the various legends and myths, spirits could do many miracles for humans. It wasn't hard for him to choose, as he was deeply in love with Rosalia, and did not think he could bear to live each summers away from her. He had not forgotten how lonely the days and nights were before she appeared.
"Rosalia, I definitively accept your offer. I will settle my things in Solvychegodsky, and I'll join you right after."
Rosalia beamed, and she went to the table, where she laid down a map.
"Here. When you are ready, go to Nizhny Novgorod and then into the forest along the banks of the Volga River. There is a smaller river that flows from that forest into Volga and right at that point there is a deep pool. I will always come at noon or midnight, and if you still want to join me, just dive into the pool, and you will find me there waiting."
Mikhail hugged her, and then separated to prepare his luggage.
"Then there is no time to lose. I will leave as soon as the Sea is thawed enough; it should not take me long to meet with you again."
"Then lets not waste the days remaining before your journey," Rosalia added with playful a wink
But such happiness didn't stopped Mikhail from missing the summers at his hometown, and he was starting to be eager to see again his friends and family, especially his nephew, who was growing up faster than Mikhail could keep up with. So, when the first block of ice finally broke apart in the Barents Sea while he was finishing up his catch of the day, Mikhail returned as fast as he could to the cottage, and finding his wife there, caught her in his arms and flung her around, excited. Rosalia laughed and asked him:
"What is the matter, Mikhail?"
Mikhail put her down, his eyes bright with joy;
"The sea is melting! Very soon, we will finally be able to set sail again and return to Solvychegodsky! You will be able to meet my family, and my friends will be so..." He paused as he noticed that Rosalia had lowered her gaze, and was looking very sad. "What is it?"
"I cannot come with you; here is the land where I met you, so only here can I remain out of the water... And that is not all... The allowed time that I have is running out. I will only be able to return each winter on this island, but in summer, I must return to the sea..."
Mikhail realized what she meant; he also remembered the conditions that she once warned him about being a rusalka. He just didn't realized it was already time. He pulled her close to him, and buried his face in her golden hair.
"I wish there was a way we could stay together for more than winters..."
Rosalia lifted her face up to him, and gazed thoughtfully at him, her green eyes gleaming.
"There is one, but I do not think you will take it."
Mikhail startled, and he looked at her with renewed hope.
"What do you mean? Whatever it is, I will take it; I love you more than anything."
Rosalia hesitated, but she knew he meant it, so she explained:
"You could live with me in the rusalki's kingdom; I would not need to go back on dry land only for winters, and we will always be together."
"Is that possible? I am a human after all; how can I live underwater?"
"You are married to a water spirit; anything is possible," she replied, amused.
Mikhail thought about it quickly. It was true he was with a water spirit, and if he remembered the various legends and myths, spirits could do many miracles for humans. It wasn't hard for him to choose, as he was deeply in love with Rosalia, and did not think he could bear to live each summers away from her. He had not forgotten how lonely the days and nights were before she appeared.
"Rosalia, I definitively accept your offer. I will settle my things in Solvychegodsky, and I'll join you right after."
Rosalia beamed, and she went to the table, where she laid down a map.
"Here. When you are ready, go to Nizhny Novgorod and then into the forest along the banks of the Volga River. There is a smaller river that flows from that forest into Volga and right at that point there is a deep pool. I will always come at noon or midnight, and if you still want to join me, just dive into the pool, and you will find me there waiting."
Mikhail hugged her, and then separated to prepare his luggage.
"Then there is no time to lose. I will leave as soon as the Sea is thawed enough; it should not take me long to meet with you again."
"Then lets not waste the days remaining before your journey," Rosalia added with playful a wink
**********************
Mikhail thanked the carriage that drove him to the edge of the forest at the border of Nizhny Novgorod, and looked at the trees and the small natural path through them. Somehow, the noise of the city was much less audible here, and Mikhail could hear the chirping of birds, the calls of the fauna, the wind rustling through the leaves. When he entered the majestic forest, his feet silently stepping on the soft moss and ground, he marvelled at the sun rays piercing through the canopy, illuminating it of gold and green. Soon, all signs of civilization became invisible and inaudible, and Mikhail felt a soothing peace invade him, and he walked slowly, letting it take away the stress of the last month.
When he finally sailed away of Novaya Zemlya, waving goodbyes to Rosalia as she watched him from the shore, he had arrived not long after to the harbour of Arkhangelsk, from where he travelled to his hometown. There, he quickly got in touch with his family and his friends. After explaining his marriage and his arrangement to live with his new wife outside of Solvychegodsky (leaving out the fact that his wife was a rusalka, and he was to live with her at the bottom of the sea; he felt it sounded insane to those that had not been there with him), he left his house to his brother, as it was a better home for his nephew, and settled his debt with the sales of his fishing stocks. He said his goodbyes, and not long after he arrived, he left again and took the southern roads to rejoin Rosalia at Nizhny Novgorod.
And after all that journey, he was finally near the spot of the pool where she was waiting for him. A few steps... and there it was, exactly where she described it; and it was almost noon, as he had planned. Sitting near it, he picked up his balalaika, straddled on his back, and he began to play; soon after the second song, the pool's calm water suddenly stirred, and ripples stretched upon its surface. A soft humming came from its depth, finishing his song, and Mikhail knew that it was Rosalia. He took a deep breath, his heart rushing in both excitement and nervosity, and dived into the pool. When he got halfway down, Rosalia swam up to meet him, her blond hair flowing freely, her green eyes gleaming. He almost opened his mouth to greet her, but remembered he had to keep it closed to contain the last of his breath. Rosalia embraced him in her pale arms, and pulling him close to her, she kissed him square on the lips, almost as if giving him more air. Instead, Mikhail started feeling lighter and lighter, and he noticed he started seeing better, even in the semi darkness of the pool; the water also felt strange to him, at times more present against his skin, and at times as if it was only air. Finally, Rosalia separated herself from him, took his hand, and lead him toward another kind of water, which he figured was the bed of the Volga River. There, she pointed behind him, and said:
"There, my love. Now, we can live together forever."
When Mikhail turned to look, he startled in shock as his eyes fell upon a falling body... his. He turned to Rosalia, shocked.
"What have you done?!"
Rosalia looked at him, her green eyes hurt;
"You said you wanted to live with me in the rusalki realm, no matter what it would take... You said you loved me... This was the only way you can live with the rusalki; you have to shed your physical body and become spirit."
Mikhail realized what she was saying; he looked fro and back from his body to his wife, her green eyes pleading. As he was hesitating, she took his hand, her head low.
"If you wish... It is not too late. I can take you back to the land. I will understand. I will wait patiently until winter returns, and..."
"No," Mikhail said suddenly and firmly; he took Rosalia's face between his hands: "No. You are my wife, and I vowed to spend my life with you, for the better and the worst. I do not go back on my vows. I was surprised, that was all; but I love you more than the land."
"And if you would never be able to return to the land, to your family and friends?" Rosalia asked, her voice small.
Mikhail hesitated; he looked deep within her green eyes;
"Rosalia, do you love me?"
She looked back at him, her love unmistakably radiating from her, and answered:
"Yes, Mikhail, with all my heart. I will never stop, and I will do my utmost to make you happy, like when we were on the island. But if you do not..."
Mikhail stopped the rest of her sentence by kissing her softly.
"In that case... Lets go to your world. You are all that I need," he replied softly.
Rosalia beamed with joy, and taking him in her arms, they swam away from the pool, the land where they met, and onward to their everlasting home.
The family and friends of Mikhail Kosintseva never saw him after his final visit, for he had become a water spirit bound to the rusalki world. But legend goes that though he often missed them and the dry land, Mikhail never regretted joining Rosalia; for the love of a kind-spirited rusalka, and the happiness and joy that came from it, was a blessing for the one that she gave her heart to.
When he finally sailed away of Novaya Zemlya, waving goodbyes to Rosalia as she watched him from the shore, he had arrived not long after to the harbour of Arkhangelsk, from where he travelled to his hometown. There, he quickly got in touch with his family and his friends. After explaining his marriage and his arrangement to live with his new wife outside of Solvychegodsky (leaving out the fact that his wife was a rusalka, and he was to live with her at the bottom of the sea; he felt it sounded insane to those that had not been there with him), he left his house to his brother, as it was a better home for his nephew, and settled his debt with the sales of his fishing stocks. He said his goodbyes, and not long after he arrived, he left again and took the southern roads to rejoin Rosalia at Nizhny Novgorod.
And after all that journey, he was finally near the spot of the pool where she was waiting for him. A few steps... and there it was, exactly where she described it; and it was almost noon, as he had planned. Sitting near it, he picked up his balalaika, straddled on his back, and he began to play; soon after the second song, the pool's calm water suddenly stirred, and ripples stretched upon its surface. A soft humming came from its depth, finishing his song, and Mikhail knew that it was Rosalia. He took a deep breath, his heart rushing in both excitement and nervosity, and dived into the pool. When he got halfway down, Rosalia swam up to meet him, her blond hair flowing freely, her green eyes gleaming. He almost opened his mouth to greet her, but remembered he had to keep it closed to contain the last of his breath. Rosalia embraced him in her pale arms, and pulling him close to her, she kissed him square on the lips, almost as if giving him more air. Instead, Mikhail started feeling lighter and lighter, and he noticed he started seeing better, even in the semi darkness of the pool; the water also felt strange to him, at times more present against his skin, and at times as if it was only air. Finally, Rosalia separated herself from him, took his hand, and lead him toward another kind of water, which he figured was the bed of the Volga River. There, she pointed behind him, and said:
"There, my love. Now, we can live together forever."
When Mikhail turned to look, he startled in shock as his eyes fell upon a falling body... his. He turned to Rosalia, shocked.
"What have you done?!"
Rosalia looked at him, her green eyes hurt;
"You said you wanted to live with me in the rusalki realm, no matter what it would take... You said you loved me... This was the only way you can live with the rusalki; you have to shed your physical body and become spirit."
Mikhail realized what she was saying; he looked fro and back from his body to his wife, her green eyes pleading. As he was hesitating, she took his hand, her head low.
"If you wish... It is not too late. I can take you back to the land. I will understand. I will wait patiently until winter returns, and..."
"No," Mikhail said suddenly and firmly; he took Rosalia's face between his hands: "No. You are my wife, and I vowed to spend my life with you, for the better and the worst. I do not go back on my vows. I was surprised, that was all; but I love you more than the land."
"And if you would never be able to return to the land, to your family and friends?" Rosalia asked, her voice small.
Mikhail hesitated; he looked deep within her green eyes;
"Rosalia, do you love me?"
She looked back at him, her love unmistakably radiating from her, and answered:
"Yes, Mikhail, with all my heart. I will never stop, and I will do my utmost to make you happy, like when we were on the island. But if you do not..."
Mikhail stopped the rest of her sentence by kissing her softly.
"In that case... Lets go to your world. You are all that I need," he replied softly.
Rosalia beamed with joy, and taking him in her arms, they swam away from the pool, the land where they met, and onward to their everlasting home.
The family and friends of Mikhail Kosintseva never saw him after his final visit, for he had become a water spirit bound to the rusalki world. But legend goes that though he often missed them and the dry land, Mikhail never regretted joining Rosalia; for the love of a kind-spirited rusalka, and the happiness and joy that came from it, was a blessing for the one that she gave her heart to.
The End