A Little Mermaid

Once upon a time, there was a mermaid living in the cold waters of the northern Atlantic. Back then, she was not called by her present name 'Fjara', but whatever it had been, it doesn't matter anymore. So while I tell her tale, I will call her by the name she used among humans.

Fjara was a curious and adventures mermaid and loved to explore. It was common for her kind to approach fishermen and lure them into their doom. As soon as a mermaid was close enough, she'd wrap her arms around her victim and draw him into the icy depths below the waves. However, Fjara was more intrigued by the boat and its content than by killing fishermen. Of course she got warned about humans. Not every attempt to catch a fisherman or a sailor were successful and sometimes, the roles of prey and predator were even inverted. Still, Fjara didn't care much about it. It was not much different from how life was for most creatures, from her understanding.
Still, despite the riches the sea had to offer, the mermaid was restless. Somehow, the endless ocean felt like a cage to her. She wanted to see the world where the humans came from. From the waterside, she had seen their ships and houses, but she wanted more than just observe. Like sailors heard the call of the sea, Fjara was attracted by the land. Carefully and cautious, she approached a forsaken beach. Day by day, she became more courageous and the water she was swimming in became more and more shallow. Finally, she dragged herself on the land. The day she stranded was a rainy day and therefore, the mermaid felt safe. Humans usually avoided the water, she had seen them seeking shelter often enough. But as she laid on the beach, Fjara noticed quickly how different moving was for her. The ease and the feeling of boundlessness were gone. She dragged herself back into the water.
Days and weeks passed by before she returned to the beach. As tiring and exhausting the experience had been, she wanted to repeat it. It was not a rainy day, but a cold wind stirred up the sea and herded a neverending bulk of greyish blue clouds over the sky. The air smelled of salt and oncoming rain. The mermaid was sure nobody would come to the beach during a weather like this and dragged herself over the wet stones. Being on land was strange and somehow just as scaring as it was exciting. After a while the mermaid returned into the sea, but throughout the next months, her visit to the beach became more frequent and her stays longer. Still, if the weather was too sunny or calm, she only watched "her" special place from afar. But when there was no sign of human presence even during warm summer days, she began to ignore the sky. In fact, she even began to like the sunny days more. It was much warmer on the stones than it was below the waves and even though Fjara was used to the cold of the sea, she liked the warmth of the sun.
But one day, when it was raining again and she crawled onto the beach, her previous life ended. The beach was empty as usual and over the roaring stom, she didn't hear the that the screams of the seagulls were much more distant than usual. But as soon as she was out of the water, someone threw a net over he. Startled and afraid, Fjara wanted to flee, but only got tangled up. She screamed and squirmed, but it was in vain. Someone grabbed the net and with short, yet powerful pulls, the mermaid was dragged over the beach, away from the sea. She couldn't see who her captor was, but she didn't care. The wet stones abraded her scales and hurt her skin. It felt like eternity when the beach ended and grass began. Sometimes there was a stone hidden under moss and Fjara was forcefully dragged again and over it. She left a trail of glittering scales, which were occasionally stained with blood. Eventually, the man stopped and the mermaid tried to get up as much as her aching body allowed. But before she could catch her breath, her captor began to tie her up. He didn't bother to remove the next, he simply used a rope to reduce Fjara's mobility even further. He didn't care if he was pressing the wet ropes against the mermaid's injuries. The pain was worse than anything she had ever experienced. Her captor then shoved her onto a small cart, which was pulled by a small horse. The bad condition of the road caused a lot of bumps, but at least the painful dragging was over. Fjara didn't scream anymore, she was too exhausted. But fear and pain caused her to whine with a low voice. Her captor didn't notice or didn't care.
The mermaid didn't know how much time had passed when the cart suddenly stopped. Fjara didn't try to struggle when the man dragged her from the cart and into a stony hut. It was dark inside, the only source of light was the open door. Her captor and removed the long coat he had been wearing. In the orange light, Fjara could see something which scared her to death. The one who captured her was a witcher. The body paints and ornaments on his skin along with the long, claw like fingernail revealed it. There were countless stories about these people, all describing the looks of such a person accurately, But not even a single one of those stories ended well.
The mermaid began to shiver and her big violet yes stared at the man before her. Her heart was pounding against her ears and she was sure he could hear its fast beating, loud and clear. The witcher took a knife and approached his prey. Fjara closed her eyes, too scared to scream and anticipating more pain. But there was none. He cut the net apart and removed part of it, but without releasing his prey. With a cold smile, he cleared her face from strands of wet and dirty hair.
"You are bold, little one, to enter my beach", he said. The mermaid was too scared to answer and instead stared at him with widened and fearful eyes. The witcher laughed unfriendly.
"I bet you didn't know I saw you. I watched you. Every day you crawled out of the ocean, I was there."
Fjara still remained silent.
"I could make a fortune with you", the witcher stated and his glanced with a greedy expression over the mermaid's body.
"But you're lucky I don't wish to sell you - or a single part of you", he added after a while.
"What... what do you want?", Fjara asked, her voice was not more than a pleading whisper.
"You'll see", the witcher answered and left the hut, locking the door. The still tied mermaid tried to move, but she could only roll around to find a less painful position.
As she was lying in the dark, she could hear the rain outside falling down. Through the gaps between wooden door and stone wall, the damp scent of wet earth entered. It was accompanied by the shriek shouts of seagulls as if they were searching for the mermaid and calling her to return to the sea.
The rain faded away, taking the grey daylight along. The seagulls where still around, but their numbers decreased. Even though thirst burnt in her throat, Fjara found enough water to cry. Left alone with her own thoughts, she couldn't help but blaming herself for what had happened. Painful "If only" wishes and "I should have" scenarios filled her thoughts.
It was the next day when the witcher returned. He brought some food and water with him. It were probably only the leftovers of his last meal, but still better than nothing. He untied Fjara,s o she could eat, but told at at the same time how pointless any attempts to escape were. If he was right, she was far away from the sea. Even if she managed to pass the locked door, he'd be faster than her. Fjara's hands were shaking as she tried to eat, partly because she was afraid and partly because the tight rope had reduced the flow of blood.
Before the witcher left again, he scraped some scales from her tail. When he was gone, Fjara ignored his warning and tired to open the door. The heavy look on the other side rattled, but nothing else happened. As despair grew, she treid to dig up the hard packed ground with her fingers, but it was in vain. It was has hard as stone. Small, sharp stones embedded in the sturdy ground cut her fingers and stuck between her nails and the flesh below them.
When the witcjer returned the next day, he noticed the traces of the mermaid's attempt to escape. He left the hut again without giving Fjara new food and water. he returned a long while later and brought a large black hound with him. The dog growled and snapped at Fjara and surely would have attacked her if the witcher hadn't held back the animal. Slaver ran from its teeth. When the witcher was sure the non-verbal threat was established, he dragged the dog outside and left the door open, so Fjara could the the hound was tied to the hut, next to the door.
"Never try this again", he said, staring at the mermaid before he left again. As soon as he was gone, the dog began to scratch and the door at bark. Fjara covered her ears, but the noise was too loud.
She couldn't sleep that night. Hunger, thirst, and the constant growling of the hound kept her awake. Even when it was sleeping, the dog made noises which caused the mermaid to stare at the door, hoping it was never going to open.
The witcher returned the next day. He passed by the hound without paying attention to the large animal. He effortlessly picked up Fjara, who was too weak and scared to put up resistance, and carried her out of the hut. He brought her to the cart again, but didn't tie her up again. Instead he let the dog follow the vehicle, which was dragged by the sturdy and small horse again. It didn't take long until they reached another hut. It was larger than the previous one and obviously inhabited. There were windows in the wall and a warm fire was crackling in the fireplace. Above it was a large kettle filled with a boiling liquid. The witcher carried Fjara inside and placed her near the kettle, so that she was leaning against a wall. The dog followed an unspoken command and laid down on the doorstep. The witcher filled a small bowl with the content of the kettle.
"Drink", he ordered. Fjara carefully did as he had demanded.
The liquid had a bitter taste to it, but she forced herself not to spill anything. She didn't want to suffer the consequences. Almost instantly after she had emptied the bowl, Fjara's tail began to itch badly. It was coming from the inside and scratching brought no release. Instead, the mermaid noticed with growing horror, how her scales stuck to her fingers. She could brush them off as if they were dirt. The itching spread through her body, covering her from tip to fin. The witcher approached with a knife. The blade was glowing bright red.
"This will hurt", he announced and sliced the tail lengthways. Fjarra screamed, but the pain was not as bad as she had anticipated. It didn't hurt worse than a small, superficial cut. Also, the itching stopped. Confused, Fjara looked down. Within the remains of her tail were two human legs, attached to her hip. They had the same pale blue skin colour as the rest of her body.
Confused, she stared at the witcher.
"Why...?", she asked, but didn't dare to be louder than a whisper.
"I gave both of us what they wanted", he answered.
"You left the water because you want to be a human, didn't you? Well, now you are. I on the other hand, I wanted a wife."
He tossed a white dress at Fjara.
"Put it on and we can start with the ceremony. As a human, you need a name. I think I'll call you 'Fjara'", he announced.
"What if I don't?", Fjara asked, a tag of her former self flaring up. The witcher slapped her across the face.
"After three days, you'll be nothing but meerschaum. Marry until then and you'll live."
Fjara lowered her head and clutched the white cloth.
"You're a cruel man", she whispered. The witcher shrugged his shoulders.
"That's how the spell works. I'm generous. I could have left you on the beach for someone else to find and kill. I could let you walk away towards your certain death", he answered.
Fjara stared ahead and slowly put on the dress. The witcher smiled and offer her an hand to get up. The new legs were shaking and walking was strange. But the witcher didn't have any regards for it. He grabbed Fjara's wrist and dragged her along a small path leading away from the hut. it lead towards a small village. The inhabitants stared at the blue skinned girl and Fjara noticed the hostile glares they sent towards her. The witcher entered the local church. It was not a large building, but it was taller and brighter than the witcher's hut.
"I found a girl, pater and I will marry her according to your teachings. As you see, I am a true Christian!", the witcher announced.
"You're marrying a fish!", the pastor hissed. The witcher lifted Fjara's dress, exposing her naked feet.
"Is she baptised?", the pastor asked frowning.
"I swear upon my soul", the witcher lied. With a sigh, the pastor nodded and began the non-solemn ceremony nobody else attended. When it was over, the witcher dragged his new wife back to his hut and pushed her onto his bed.
Fjara learned quickly that all the vows spoken during the ceremony had been lies. He didn't love her. He didn't cherish her. Also, he certainly was not going to protect her, otherwise he would need to protect his wife from himself. He was a demanding and brutal man who took whatever he wanted and whenever he wanted it. He imposed all the daily work on Fjara and rewarded her with nothing but brutality.
More than once she thought about jumping from a cliff, but also feared she might survive the fall.

It was winter and Fjara was on her way home. As usual she took the long way over the beach, "his" beach as he liked to remind her. The name he had given her was underlining it. She stopped and watched at the sea shimmering in the cold winter sun light. Something was different. The rocks breaking through the water's surface during low tide had changed. There was a new one among them. Irritated and fascinated alike, Fjara stepped closer towards the stones. She didn't care for the icy water surrounding her feet. She was walking barefoot the whole time. Even though the witcher, her husband, said she was a human now, there were some things his magic had not affected: her skin and eye colours as well as her tolerance of low temperatures.
She stared at the stone and realised it was gently rocking to the rhythm of the waves. It was a small boat! A sudden impulse took over Fjara and she went deeper into the water, diving into it and swimming towards the vessel. The short end of  torn rope hung into the sea. The boat itself was empty save for a single oar. Fjara looked back, afraid to see the silhouette of her husband at the shore. But he wasn't there. Quickly she pulled the hated golden ring form her finger and tossed it away. She then took the oar and began to row, towards the horizon. She had no idea where she was going, but it did not matter where the ocean was leading her. Everything was better than staying on that island.