Act 1: Chapter 1
Once Upon a Ziman Night
In the far, far north—where the north wind calls its home, and the snow falls in massive droves—lies the frozen land of Zima. It's a cold, tough, and even lonely place at times, but even in her most dangerous and darkest nights, her boreal beauty shines brighter than even starlight, and the compassionate hearts of her polar people stay warm in even the biggest blizzards. Perhaps this land and her nights can be dark and even unforgiving, but the sun is always destined to rise upon the snow.
Tonight, on this lovely and chilly night, a young boy wanders through the taiga of Crocus Valley. Surrounding the young man is a sea of firm and mighty Ziman pine, pine whose snowcapped tops stretched into the sky like towers built of boreal bark. The snow, which would normally be white as marble in the daytime, was now a cool, soothing blue under the gentle moonlight. The moon, in all of her golden radiance, lit the dark and narrow path before him, and the crisp scent of Ziman pine was a sweet and calming scent. A lovely smell that could only hold a contest with the refreshing whiff of a hot cup of chocolate or the hypnotizing fumes that would radiate from his mother’s cakes and pies. When surrounded by such a wintertime wonder of sights and smells, it is only natural that the boy is in high spirits. It is a lovely combination indeed, but it is not the beauty of the snow nor the chill in the air that kept him wide awake and moving forward at such a cold and sleepy midnight hour.
Physically speaking, the young human boy was short and sweet, and he donned a long, brown peacoat. The first two things one would see were his black trapper cap and his large spectacles. His black fur hat kept his head of chestnut hair warm and made him seem as though he had the floppy ears of a bunny, while his circular spectacles gave his spunky and rugged appearance a charming bookish touch. He was a very lively child, one with a winning smile and big, pinchable cheeks---he actually enjoyed being out and about in the freezing night. The subzero temperatures made him feel alive and energized: everyone has their guilty pleasures. In one gloved hand was the tassel of a wooden sled big enough and sturdy enough to seat a whole grown man. It was a lovely feat of craftsmanship whose skilled creator had slathered it in a delightful crimson coat of paint. In the other palm, he loosely gripped the cold metal handle of a large lantern. If you took a moment to study it, you would discover that it was no ordinary oil lamp nor even an electric one–it was something more celestial.
The lantern did not possess a switch of any sort to activate. Instead, the switch on its base would open and close a set of shutters that shielded the lens, and when you clicked open those shutters, you would be in for a simply charming delight. Within the lamp’s cube-shaped lens was a tiny yellow star that floated within a black gel laced with flickering stardust. It is not a star in a kind of metaphorical sense, but there was a genuine, tiny yellow star within that lantern of his. It was a pretty little one, a glowing crystal that could be visually compared to a sea urchin for those who have never seen one up close before. Why guide your way through the night with oil or electricity when you could have a little piece of the night sky itself guide your way? Zimans historically preferred the more beautiful option of fallen stars, for the long and dark winter nights mean more chances for shooting stars to fall to the ground since those little beauties are attracted to dark, low-lit areas of the planet.
Some Zimans like to even use fallen stars as decorations to hang on their walls or place upon shelves as natural light, whereas engineers will grind them up into dust to fuel the powerful engines of mankind’s sky-soaring airships. Most exciting of all to Zimans, there was even an old war hero from long, long ago who wielded a hand cannon like no other, one powered by a little piece of the night sky itself. An awesome weapon of rainbow starlight that could punch holes through the toughest of hulls and blast away the toughest of men. A weapon tied to a tale so legendary that it can make even the sternest of arms enthusiasts act like giddy children at the mere mention of its legendary name. Though—admittedly, that exciting tale is a story for another day, what matters most important of all is this young boy and his story, for tonight was a very special night.
Now, do not be concerned for the young boy, even though he may be wandering about on such a cold sub-zero night. Ziman’s human population, for thousands of years, has adored their frozen home since they first arrived from neighboring lands. Good and honest human folk who live in the warmer realms may understandably get a ghastly fright at what humans living in Zimans are willing to put up with. However, humans who lived here in the frigid snowscape of Zima expect and accept chilly nights like these. Cold and long winters were just simply a normal fact of life here, among many other things, and were nothing you could not just put on the proper clothes and take the proper precautions for. The boy put his wintertime wisdom to good use by going out into the night in a good brown coat and even had a small hunting revolver hanging on his hip, with his father having full trust in his son to wield it responsibly. Besides, his father was just a few ways into the forest on a moonlight fishing trip anyway, chatting with a good friend he had not seen in a year. Ivan was a responsible young man and, like many Ziman children living in the cold countryside, was well-trained in both safety and survival. As a result of raising his son the right way, his father did not have an ounce of worry in his mind as his young son went about his little adventure. Ivan himself marched with purpose and vigor as pure excitement flew through his veins—the arctic wind, to its credit, did make a genuine attempt to chill the boy to the bone by scratching and scraping him with its thin, cold claws, but the boy was so excited he didn’t even feel it.
Tonight will indeed be a very special night for him; it was something of a special get-together that happened very rarely during nightfall. Thankfully, tonight, the moon in all of her celestial glory appeared in full, so the night itself was not too dark. On a bright night like this, you could even make out every detail of the moon’s design. Who could forget her rugged yet majestic face of craters and pits painted in gold, and what of the white orbital ring of dust that circled her form like an engagement ring upon a lucky woman’s ring finger? There was even the dark sea of inky black water upon the left side of her face that gave the moon her signature crescent shape—my, what a splendid sight she is! Indeed, the night sky would not be the same without the moon’s presence. This full appearance of the moon was, in fact, so grand that the arctic splendor of the northern lights herself could not help but make a special guest appearance in praise of the moon’s beauty. As the moon in the sky sat upon her throne of twinkling stars, she and Ivan watched as the northern lights danced away in an emerald, green dress, dancing and swaying like curtains billowing in the north wind’s gale as the boy continued his journey.
After walking a whole mile through the dark forest path from his father, a clearing in the trees appeared in the distance, and within it was a celestial spotlight: a bath of bright and shining moonlight. The closer he approached, the more his heart skipped a beat when he saw a figure in the center with her head tilted to the sky. There was a young girl in that clearing—a young girl just as excited as he was for this long-awaited December night. Like many Zimans, Ivan adored the heavenly night sky---but she was far more majestic than the moon, and not even the northern lights could dare to compare. She was a girl just two years younger than his senior age of ten. Clothed in a long and purple, puffy dress woven from the finest of wool, her long set of curly yellow hair flowed down her back like a waterfall of liquid gold. But there is more to this young lady’s precious appearance than the fabric of her dress or the color of her hair, for sitting upon the top of her head was a set of small, cone-shaped horns made of marble-white bone.
Captivated by her pretty and petite appearance, he is as quiet as a mouse, watching her silently from afar as though she were a precious animal that would scatter at the quietest of sounds. In truth, she was as beautiful as the reindeer that romp around these woods---maybe even a little more. However, when he slowly drew closer and closer, the pitter-patter of his boots upon the crunchy snow alerted her long, fuzzy, golden ears, which bobbed upwards in surprise. In her radiant presence, one just as radiant as the moon herself, the jittering of his cold and quivering teeth was overpowered by the warmth of his beating and lovestruck heart. As he drew closer and closer, he called out her name, that oh-so-lovely name.
“Luna!” The boy exclaimed.
The young girl inhaled sharply and crooked her head over to the side, revealing a face almost as white as the snow itself and a stunning set of blue eyes more valuable than the most finely cut sapphires and diamonds. Her adorable button nose and pinchable cheeks glowed with a permanent scarlet blush; the people of her human-like race always possessed it, whether the day was sweltering or snowy. When she saw him, her mouth flew open into a smile so lovely that it could melt even the most stubborn of icebergs, and she flew into a sprint!
“Ivan!” she yelled.
Ivan dropped the tassel of the sled and took off in a dash! As she came forth with arms in the air, the boy braced for impact. She came running, closer and closer. Ecstasy overwhelmed the young girl. Within a meter of one another, the girl threw herself upon him! Ivan took notice and caught her! With this pretty little thing now in his arms, Ivan dug his heels into the snow and began twirling her about by the arms as though she were caught in a tornado of his creation. He swung her around to and fro until she was reduced to a dizzy, giggling mess of a young belle. When their little dance had concluded, Ivan embraced her with a warm hug as she laughed off the dizziness into his warm pea coat. Ivan is a young human boy, and she is a young polarian girl---the native race of Zima. Historically speaking, Humans and Polarians always did get along rather well.
In the days of yore, when the world was young and prophets proclaimed the Shepherd's ways, the polarians were born from the first arctic explorers. Not only were they the first to populate the cold north, but this initial group of over a hundred explorers was born as human men. When the Great Shepherd called mankind to travel across the world and spread civilization in new territories, many were fearful of the far distant lands to the north, where the nights were long, dark, and cold. When a group of daring explorers finally rose to this divine request, by their lord’s grace, they were blessed with these wool coats so that they may not only brave the ice and snow but thrive within it. These men did not fear such a challenge to claim the north, and this beloved blessing was the Shepherd’s assurance that they would be prosperous in their conquest of the cold. Thus, the winter wonderland that would go on to be known as Zima was born. Though Ivan is by no means a hairy little polarian, he loved the cold just as much as his little friend here does; a shared love that heightened their own love for one another.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Ivan! How have you been down here since our last visit?”
Ivan, his mind flooded with excitement and a little dastardly dose of innocent mischief, put on the best frown he could. “Horrible, just horrible,” he muttered in a quiet, gloomy tone.
Luna grew concerned, and her long, hairy ears drooped slightly.
“What’s the matter? Has something terrible happened?”
Ivan slowly looked down at her and stood there staring for a moment. Luna grew concerned at the silence and sudden sobriety of Ivan’s demeanor—weren’t they dancing and swaying just a moment ago? Luna wondered just what could be wrong—she was simply none the wiser. Fearing the worst, Luna waited for a response.
Ivan puffed up his chest, took a deep breath, and mustered an answer.
“You want to know what happened? Ok, here it goes, life’s been terrible lately because... because...”
Ivan paused. Suddenly, he smiled with a wicked grin!
“BECAUSE I HAVEN’T GOTTEN TO SEE YOU IN A YEAR!”
At that moment, Ivan’s embrace became a terrifying trap—a tickling trap! She was already within his reach and wrapped in his powerful grip! There is no escape! In the blink of an eye, laughing gas filled her lungs and flew up her throat. The young girl’s gut busted hard; she began to cackle at a million decibels as Ivan’s fingers wriggled and tickled her sides senseless. Luna was now laughing the hardest she had ever laughed in her young life.
“BAHAHA! OH, IVAN!” She giggled and snorted, “STOP, BHAAAA.” In her attempt to plead for the charade to stop, Luna’s request was morphed by the laughter into a sound reminiscent of a deflating balloon. It took a great deal of willpower on the young boy’s end, but he had decided that her sides and armpits had had enough. Ivan finally ceased the barrage of tickling fingers and returned her to his calm embrace.
“You.... jester,” Luna croaked in an affectionate tone. “Oh, my knight, you always find ways to surprise me.” Ivan took the little girl into his arms, gently holding her as he led her to an old and withered log they always liked to rest on during their meetings.
“Well, I’m glad I’m good at something, thank you. All joking aside, I’ve been pretty good as of late. Winter here in Zima is as beautiful as ever; I wouldn’t trade pretty nights like these for a million dollars. Summer is too popular if you ask me; I find winter far more fascinating—well, any day or night is fascinating as long as it involves you, after all.”
Little Luna, already stuck within a permanent state of blushing as all polarians are, began to blush even harder and turned her head away from him, “Oh, shush, Ivy, I think I’ve had enough affection for one night after our little torture session.”
“What? That was just a quick little tickle—you bet your hairy bottom that there’s more where that came from.”
“Hairy bottom?” Luna asked in a bewildered tone; that description of her rump was certainly a first. “Well, on another note, how have you been, well—how have you actually been, all joking aside? Are you swell?”
Ivan motioned towards the sled that he had let go of after dashing off into a sprint. He motioned towards it, grandeur present in both his beaming smile and lively posture.
“I’ve been great actually! Check out this sweet puppy I got for my birthday, pretty, isn’t she?” Ivan then spanked the sled with his hand, “My pa tells me that it’s made of fine Ziman pine. Pine from these woods as a matter of fact; yes, sir.”
“I must say, that is a very nice red if I say so myself. Why, I’d love a skirt that’s red like that.”
“Well, if you like it so much, would you like to set your hairy bottom in that sled and take it for a spin? How about a little moonlight adventure?”
“A moonlit adventure?” Luna asked curiously. “Hmm, why does that sound quite fun! Let us be off then!”
With his head held high, Ivan and Luna began their little moonlight adventure through the darkness of the night. Ivan pulled the sled towards the destination his mind had remembered and locked onto, while Luna sat perched on the sled and watched the northern lights dance above their heads. The lights were a hypnotizing sight for the young belle---strands of cyan, blue, purple, and pink shifting and swaying, a dance of wonderful colors. In that moment, as Ivan ferried her, she thought it would be lovely if she could have a scarf that looked just like those nights. A scarf made in the image of the polar night sky---maybe her mother could teach her how to sew one? It would be the perfect accessory for their wintertime romps, maybe she could even make one for Ivan as well? It would be simply adorable, a young lady and her knight, running around the snowy woods with matching scarves to boot! In that moment, she let out a great big sigh---with Ivan none the wiser to her daydreams of whimsical puppy love.
After pulling Luna along for a little while, Ivan finally arrived at the fabled glen—a large dip in the earth with a frozen river in its base. Most of the glen was formed out of treeless and gentle hills---one may even say it was a little valley within Crocus Valley. If this area were not a public area and up for grabs, it would definitely be a decent spot to build a ski resort. When the two children came upon the tip of the slope--where the sea of pine gave way to a gentle hillside--the two got ready for their first ride. After hopping from the sled and letting Ivan get on, she climbed back on and sat down on the front end of the sled in between his legs. During the mounting process of the sled, Luna got comfortable by resting her back against his chest. When Luna had become situated, and Ivan wrapped his arms around her, it almost felt like he was hugging the softest and warmest pillow known to man. The natural wool coat that a polarian possesses beneath their clothes is a cozy and comfortable wonder to possess in these frigid lands.
Even the immense coats that polarian men (and some women) often grow---make them look like walking teddy bears stuffed full of cotton--are as light as a feather and don’t pull on their skin. It is said that the embrace of a polarian is a sensation like no other: a statement that anyone with good relations to a polarian can attest to. Of course, affection is affection and hugs are hugs: a hug given from a lover is a hug well-loved, no matter what they were born as. But to Ivan, squeezing Luna tightly as though she were a little bundle of pure softness was an event that would always make him feel all warm and fuzzy. On the other hand, being squeezed made her feel warm and fuzzy too, both metaphorically and literally. Being a wool-less human, his embrace was far firmer than what her pillow-like brethren could offer. For some people, especially connoisseurs of weighted blankets and ladies such as Luna, a little bit of pressure can be good on the nerves. Ivan, in this moment, would happily say that polarians offer the softest of hugs, while Luna would happily say that humans offer the firmest of hugs.
After asking if she was ready to go and receiving an excited yes, Ivan placed his palms onto the snow and began to push the sled closer and closer to the tipping point of the ledge. Finally, the hands of gravity grabbed hold of the sled’s firm iron legs and gave a tug. The wind began to whip their faces, and their bellies rose as the sled began its descent. With every second, the sled became faster and faster as it sped towards the frozen river down below.
Little Luna was in over her head, equally excited as she was now terrified! She yipped, closed her eyes as she braced herself, and dug the back of her little head into Ivan’s security of Ivan’s arms. However, after a moment, as the wind continued to rush in her face, she could hear Ivan giving a triumphant giggle–the adrenaline of the thrill ride tickling his vigor! Seeing that Ivan was by no means worried as they sped down the hill, her fear ran away as her excitement rose in full force. She now stared down at the approaching frozen river with excitement: if he was not afraid, then neither was she! Finally, the sled holding the satisfied pair rocked as the incline came to a halt, now cruising along flat ground before coming to a halt by the frozen river. Luna had begun that ride squeaking like a scared mouse, but she now chuckled like a hyena.
Luna asked if the two could do it again, and Ivan was more than happy to oblige. The two little children jumped off their crimson chariot and ran back up the hill with a glimmer in their eyes. Then, at the tip of the slope, eager for a thrill, the two took on a second voyage down the slope. After that, they did it for a third time, and then a fourth, so on and so forth. After sledding down the glen more times than they could even keep track of, Ivan decided that a change of plans was in order and called for a good old-fashioned snowball fight. The two ran up the hill and into the tree line, and when the two had taken their places, the battle had begun!
As Ivan tilted down to scoop up a pile of snow, Luna made a beeline for the thick and shaded thicket to take cover for the upcoming attack. With a snowball ready, Ivan studied the vicinity and saw Luna peeking from behind a tree. She was armed and ready. Ivan filled his lungs to the brim and yelled a powerful and ear-splitting war cry as he gunned for the tree thicket with a snowball in hand!
Trembling and panting, Luna took her shot and threw a snowball—she missed; he was still far away but running right for her with a gleam in his eye! Quickly, she thought up and hatched a plan. She dropped down close to the ground, shoveled up a bundle of snow into a large mound. With her ammunition ready, she began her attack, creating a rapid-fire stream of cold and wet bullets. Ivan gritted his teeth and ran faster and faster—a snowball came flying towards him and hit his chest—to no effect! A second snowball splat right in his face—Ivan tumbled for a moment but kept his balance and continued on the pursuit! Luna gunned it and turned her back, giggling as she huffed and puffed in her search for safety–there was no stopping him! Then, as quick as a flash, SPLAT! Ivan took his shot, and it hit her right on the back of the noggin, throwing her to the ground and making her button nose squish into the snow. Ivan raised his arms and hollered in victory! But, in his ecstasy and satisfaction, THWACK! Returned fire straight on his nose! Luna began to cackle like mad at her victory, and when Ivan came to his senses, he too cackled like mad.
With another one of her lovely smiles, Luna skipped over and hovered over him, declaring herself to be the victor of this battle and asking for his surrender. Little did she realize that he had prepared for such a scenario. Ivan’s surprise attack was quick and fast—faster than a bolt of lightning and faster than a speeding bullet! BAM! A snowball straight to the young belle’s noggin! Luna stumbled over in surprise, and Ivan hopped onto his feet. Now, he was looming over her. Just as she had before, he extended his arm and put on the best smug smile he could muster and, being the young gentleman that he was, proposed a truce. Luna, being the young lady that she was, accepted his offer and declared the battle as finished.
With a small case of fatigue looming over them, Luna requested that they change the night’s pace to one a bit more on the slower side—and what better way to slow down than by building a wonderful snowman with a body, a body huge and round? Ivan decided that a simple snowman would do, but why not build a splendid snowman instead?
Ivan puffed up his chest and put on the deepest and mightiest voice his little lungs would allow. "I will build the best snowman there ever was!" Ivan humorously boasted to Luna and the trees. "And I will help!" Luna supported, in her deepest and mightiest voice as well.
They started by taking a small bundle of snow and rolling it around and around until it became a meter high. After making the base, Ivan got to work on the snowman’s torso while Luna went out to fetch the best sticks she could find to serve as a set of splendid arms. Luna found two twigs, with each possessing many little studs on their ends reminiscent of fingers, and she stuck them into the torso after the two used their combined strength to hoist the torso onto the base together.
Sure, they had no carrots or coals to give it a splendid face, but it was a splendid snowman nonetheless. However, even after basking in the beauty of their labor, Luna lamented that the snowman was all alone and needed a wife. So, together, they assembled a nice and lovely snowwoman for his company. Then, the two made for them an adorable little snow baby, and then another snow baby, and finally one more snow baby because the snowman and snowwoman loved each other that much, and finally, Luna even made a little snow husky dog with a collar of twigs for their splendid snow family–it was a big, happy snow family.
Now tired and weary, Luna proposed that they take a break to rest. Ivan agreed, and he took her to a small empty spot at the top of the glen’s incline that was surrounded by pine, save for an opening in the tree line to view the scenery of the valley. Exhausted, Ivan prepared a little resting spot by withdrawing a large blue mat from his pack and rolling it out onto the snow. The plush mat was a personal favorite of Ivan’s mother, one that possessed pretty floral patterns of flowers native to the Ziman taiga. After Luna made herself comfortable, Ivan prepared a small fire for them just across from the mat and in front of the valley vista, it was mostly for himself, for Luna had her wool and clothes to keep herself warm. Even so, when that fire slowly grew from a small batch of grass and twigs that had been set ablaze by a simple match and into a decent campfire, Luna felt comfortable and snug in the fire’s gentle heat and upon the soft mat. If it weren’t for the peace she always possessed in Ivan’s presence—with him unknowingly having lit a fire in her own heart and making excitement boil and bubble up inside of her-she would have surely fallen asleep from the overwhelming comfort.
When the fire had been built in full, Ivan picked a spot to the left of Luna and withdrew from his pack a set of metal thermoses—one for each child. When Luna was given hers, she grasped the base tightly with her fluffy palms and unscrewed the squeaky lid. When the lid popped off, little droplets of tea were thrown about, and a pleasant peppermint aroma filled the air, causing the two children to snort like swine. Peppermint tea is a favorite of Zimans, a drink just shy of their undying love for hot chocolate, with the latter having been the national drink of choice in these frozen parts for a thousand years with no end to its fame in sight. Zimans did not just adore peppermint tea for its minty fragrance and for also being a good source of Vitamin C, but white blood cells heap microscopic mountains of praise for the wintertime treat due to the drink’s anti-bacterial and sinus-relieving effects.
In a nation such as this, where catching a cold is rather common for humans, those pint-sized patrolmen need all the help they can get. With everything prepared, Ivan withdrew a plush blanket from his sack for warmth. Luna, being warm and fuzzy as can be, certainly didn’t need it. However, that certainly did not stop her when Ivan offered to share the blanket with her. If she was not as snug as a bug in a rug already, she certainly was now; she is as snug as a bug in a rug with another bug.
Ivan then withdrew two additional canisters from his pack; their dinner for the evening. Inside these thermoses were some servings of a dish known as “Polarian Pasta.” It’s a very old dish, with its creation dating back to around the time the Ziman royal family of old first began trading with the surrounding countries. It’s essentially a meal resembling typical spaghetti, but the sauce is made with pumpkin and cinnamon rather than tomato and basil. Not only is it easy to make, but the sweetness of the pumpkin imbues it with a lovely sweetness that makes it walk the line between dinner and dessert. It was a quick go-to recipe Ivan's mother and father would always fix for its convenience; Ivan found the dish palatable and pleasant, while little Miss Luna took to the dish like a fish to water. You can train a child to be a little lady, but you can't take the child out of a little lady.
As they enjoyed their tea, they studied the overlook vista before them. To their feet lay the glen, and in the distance stood a small mountain. If you took the moment to concentrate and look very, very hard, you could see faint lights radiating from a town on the summit. The lights themselves not too terribly bright, but once you saw the lights of Holly, they would be in your mind for a while.
“Hey Ivan, what’s that upon the tip of the mountain? Is that a town?”
“Mmmhmm, Holly Town! I’ve been there before, actually. It’s a nice town with lots of shops and restaurants.”
“Holly Town? You think you could take me there someday?”
“I’m sorry, Luna, but I don’t think your father would allow it. I mean—I’d love to, don’t get me wrong, but you’d have to speak with him. If there’s anyone I don’t want to make mad, it’s him.”
“Well, hypothetically speaking, if we could go there, what is there to do?”
“Well, I could take you to the museum up there: The Polarian History Museum. I’ve been there many times, actually. It’s a cool place. A lot, well---polarian history. I could see you getting a bit of a thrill out of it.”
“The Polarian History Museum?” Luna asked, “So, we have a historian on our hands, do we?”
“I guess you could say that.” Ivan confirmed, “Well, I first started studying polarian history after I had first met you. I find a lot of it to be interesting, and even a little scary in some places. While I’m not a polarian myself, my father told me that it does not mean I can’t appreciate their history and feats. After all, Zima’s history and the polarian race’s history are tied together---he told me to see it as me respecting my homeland and those who made it.”
“Oh really? I’ve actually studied humans myself. I find humans to be just as delightful as we; humans have so many tales of valiant knights and sailors going on grand adventures to rescue and woo fair princesses and beautiful mermaids. Some of those heroes even went against the likes of giant dragons, evil kings, and dastardly pirates!” Luna paused, “I’d like to see a dragon someday! I think human adventure stories are very romantic.” Luna continued, “we polarians are often too busy cuddling and sewing to go on adventures. Well, not that we don’t have our tales and heroes---we’re just a sleepy sort normally. Although, if I may ask, what could be “shocking” about polarian history? I’m rather curious, my knight, do tell please.”
“OK, here goes; I’ll explain. There’s this... creepy nursery rhyme my mom would sing to me whenever I misbehaved when I was little. I don’t know if it’s just a human one or if you’ve ever heard of it, too.”
Luna was quiet for a moment, pondering what to say, before slowly leaning over and quietly whispering as though she was worried that somebody was watching them.
“Was it the one about Marzanna?”
Ivan’s eyes lit up, “You’ve heard it too? The Marzanna song? That song gave me nightmares for weeks when I first heard it! I can’t believe it’s based on a true story.” On the spur of the moment, Ivan began to sing the tune. ”Marzanna Marzanna, Goddess of the North.”
Luna chimed in, “She lives in her home in the cold North Pole." The two now sang in perfect unison. Be a bad little kid, and she’ll come forth. She’ll watch from the window, then from the corner of your room. Be rude or bad, and she’ll take you to your doom. In the middle of the night, she’ll give you a fright—a hug, kiss, then pat you on the head! A thousand men are as good as dead!
Ivan and Luna both broke out into a burst of contagious and grand laughter.
“I can’t believe they would sing that to us! It’s freaky!” Ivan responded in between cackles.
“I know. Such a terrifying lady; thank the Great Shepard that she’s dead! Why, if I ever meet her face to face, I’d be so scared that I’d jump right out of my wool!”
Her words flew into Ivan’s eardrums and began to echo through the halls of Ivan’s brain. “Why, if I ever meet her face to face, I’d be so scared that I’d jump right out of my wool! Why, if I ever meet her face to face, I’d be so scared that I’d jump right out of my wool! Why, if I ever meet her face to face, I’d be so scared that I’d jump right out of my wool!”
At that moment, a plan was hatched within Ivan’s excitable little mind. “You know, I think it would be good if your dad would let us go to the museum. You’d love it there. You really should ask him if you could go someday.”
Luna pondered this idea and seemed to consider it. “I think it would simply be a wonderful visit! What changed your mind?”
Luna, poor Luna, the young girl was completely clueless as to the reason behind Ivan’s wicked smile.
“Marzanna is in the museum?”
“WHAT? Huh?”
“She’s in the Polarian History Museum! Marzanna’s body is in an exhibit there, locked within a big glass coffin!”
“No, no, you jest!”
“I’m not lying!” Ivan pleaded, “She’s really there, Luna; I’ve seen her three times now! She’s basically the main attraction there! On my first visit, my tour guide told me that he’s had families fly in from thousands of miles away to see her!”
Luna’s mouth fell to the floor, and the young girl had no idea what to say for a moment.
“You mean,” Luna muttered, “You mean she’s really there? The Volkovian Goddess?”
Ivan nodded his head and pointed to the lights of Holly. “She’s really a false goddess, but yes. The one and only Marzanna is up on that mountain, sleeping away in her big old coffin. My dad told me that she’s just been rotting there for about two hundred years now, ever since the fall of the Volkovian Union and the ending of the Marine Revolution. She really is a splendid sight—I find it so crazy that a bunch of people back in the day worshipped a machine like it was a god. I think that’s why I like history so much; it can be so weird sometimes, but weird in a fascinating kind of way.”
“A lady like Marzanna would be quite the terrible sight,” Luna mused, “but she would be a sight, nonetheless. My father has told me so many terrible stories about her—there’s more than I can count. Still, I think it would be marvelous to see her, no? But, with my knight by my side, there would be no reason for me to be scared.”
Ivan reared his head towards the gleaming lights of Holly and then back to Luna.
“Well, how about we go ask your dad then? He should be with my father down by the creek.”
Luna and Ivan took one another’s hands.
“We’ll tell him together then! He’ll surely allow it if we both want to go, or maybe at least when we’re older. Dad told me that young girls can only travel far when they’re older.”
“Well, I’m sure he’ll allow it to. Maybe not right now, but someday. Maybe a year, maybe three years, who knows? That’ll give us something to look forward to, right? My Dad’s always told me that life involves a lot of waiting. Waiting for spring, waiting for the mail, waiting for holidays; seeing each other once again would be another thing for us to wait on, right? Hey—the goddess armor wasn’t built in one night.
“I do think you’re right,” Luna affirmed. I always have to wait for these little visits of ours. Well, I hate waiting for them, but I love every second with you. Isn’t that strange, Ivan, that I hate waiting for you but love being with you?”
“Well, I don’t like waiting for you either—I wish I could see you for more than one night a year. But, I guess it’s just another thing to wait for—I need to wait for my birthday, need to wait to drive a car, need to wait till I can drink, need to wait till I can get ma–” Ivan stopped.
“Huh, what?” Luna asked. “What were you going to say?”
“Married.” Ivan confirmed, “ I-I need to wait until I’m an adult so I can get married. Kids can’t get married.”
“Do you know who you want to marry? Is it me?”
Ivan paused for a moment, “Well... yes, actually! You’re nice; you’re cute; I’d love to live with you. I don’t know how it’ll work, but when we’re older, how about you and I get married? That way, instead of having to wait once a year until our parents visit each other at night, you and I can spend every night together.”
“Really?” Luna asked, “Are you sure, Ivan? Well I—um.” Luna stumbled over her words, “WELL, I’d simply love to marry you! If we get married, then we can play outside as much as we want to! We could buy ourselves a nice little house; we could open a quilting store—oh!” Luna exclaimed, “We can even have kids! A nice little house in a nice little town, one with a nice market where I can sell scarves and mittens! I’d make the house all proper and pretty, play with the babies, sew little trinkets for all of us while you... You..” Luna paused, “What do you want to do when you’re a dad?”
“I want to be a college professor—a history professor! I want to get a spot at New Zima Academy and teach a bunch of people all I know about the Great Ziman Empire! There are so many heroes and villains! Tales of scientific progress, tales of heroes prevailing in battle, there are more exciting stories than I can count! My father told me that there’s a lot to learn from the past, and I believe him! I’ve always loved telling a good story, and I would be getting paid to do it! It will be AMAZING!”
“Perfect! You can teach while I watch the kids and sew!”
“Why, Luna, I think that would be a lot of fun! It seems pretty solid, as well! I’d look after the kids, too. Dad always told me that raising a baby is a two-man job—well, not two men, but one man and one lady. Cooperation—two to make ’em and two to raise ’em, he tells me. I wonder what I’ll look like as a grown man and a dad. I also wonder what you would like as a grown lady and a mommy.”
“Long hair and puffy dresses!” Luna confirmed, “Just like my mother!”
“Well, if I get a job at a big and fancy academy, I’d make a load of money and could buy you a new dress and new shoes for every birthday, and I’d order you a big fat cake along with it, and we’d stuff our faces in our kitchen!”
“And when your birthday arrives,” Luna proposed, “I could make you a new coat every birthday, and I’ll make a big fat cake for you myself, and we could celebrate with tea! Actually, even when it isn’t our birthday, I could even make cakes for you just for the sake of making cakes for you! Mrs Luna Armstrong.” Luna muttered in a dreamy tone, “Now, my knight, how many children? I’m scared that just one little baby would feel all alone.
“I’d simply like to have a kid. Simple as pie. If we get one, we can have another. I doubt making a kid is that hard. It just grows in your belly like a big fat watermelon and pops out, right? Then again, though, Pops told me that when I was being born, Mom screamed so hard that she almost made a window crack.”
Luna, none the wiser of how anatomy actually worked, proposed an alternate explanation. “Well, maybe she was just so simply happy to have you that she was screaming with joy? Why, if I were having my baby, I’d simply be screaming with excitement!”
Ivan grasped his chin, “You know, I never saw it that way until now—could be.”
Though he truly had not known her for long, Ivan always did savor Luna’s company. She was a sweet little lady with an air of charming sophistication—a true proper lady in the making. Uptight yet polite, and certainly quite jolly. As pretty as little Luna was, with her father always calling her his “little shining moon,” it was truly her politeness that captured his heart. Most young girls don’t even bother to give young boys the time of day, yet Luna would always talk to him as though they had been friends since birth. She was polite, pretty, and huggable—the perfecting combination of attributes to conjure up a swarm of butterflies in a young boy’s stomach. Finally, one must remember the old human saying: the embrace of a polarian has to be felt to be believed, truly. He did like the idea of marrying her someday—she was always quite exciting to be around. Sure, after spending every day together, things may get a little boring—every day can’t be a holiday after all—but he still liked the idea of spending his life with her.
If Ivan’s dream of becoming a history professor became a reality, he would probably get paid a decent sum. He’d buy both of them a nice big house with a large, forested backyard—they could have tea together every afternoon around the fireplace and try out all sorts of new dishes and pastries together in their big and fancy kitchen. Maybe even every now (if her father would finally be willing to allow it), he could take her into town to the local bakeries—she does love her sweets. He knew of one bakery in town that she absolutely needed to visit someday. As the two of them lay there before the lovely warm fire, wondering where life may bring them, Ivan concluded that someday he would need to buy her a big and fancy ring—someday—just another thing to wait on.
