“Hold his head on,” she said.
So Hansel put their father’s head on his neck. Then Gretel wrapped the twine around it and, fumblingly, tied it. As she untied it, the twine snapped. She let it fall to the ground.
They watched the skin on their father’s neck creep together, healing before their eyes. But he did not move.
Gretel began to cry harder. Hansel cried, too.
“We forgive you,” Gretel said.
“We do,” Hansel agreed. Their tears fell on him.
And he moved. Gretel nearly threw him off her, she was so surprised. The king groaned.
“Father? Father!” Gretel cried. He groaned again. His eyes opened slowly.
“Hello,” he said.
Hansel and Gretel fell upon him. “Oh, Father, you’re all right! You’re all right!”
Gretel said, “We wish we hadn’t had to do that.”
Hansel said, “But we did have to.”
He took hold of them both. “I understand,” he said. And then, blinking at them as if he had just walked into the sunlight after a long time in the darkness, he said, “I under-stand, my children.”
Just then they heard footsteps in the hall. The queen’s. Hansel looked at his father, covered in blood.
“Father,” he said, “did Mother know you were the dragon?”
“No,” their father replied. “I didn’t know myself, until just now. I just kept waking up in strange places. I really did think I was shav—”
“Okay. Get in the wardrobe.” So their father got in the wardrobe. Just as he did, their mother entered the room.
“Did you have a nice time praying, Mother?” Hansel asked.
She took her children in her arms. “Oh, I can barely pray. I think only of the dragon, and of our poor kingdom.”
Gretel said, “What if we told you, Mother, that we knew who the dragon was, and that the only way to stop the dragon would be to kill that person?”
The queen looked back and forth between her two children. “You know who it is? Then we must do it! Right away!”
“No matter who it is?” Hansel asked.
“No matter who it is.”
“It’s Father,” the children said at once.
The queen gasped. She fell to the floor and wept bitterly.
After a long time, she said, “If you’re sure it’s him, if you can prove it—then yes. I couldn’t do it. But I would understand.”
The children looked at each other, and then said, at the same moment, “Are we glad you said that!” Then they walked over to the wardrobe and let out their father, all covered in blood.
The queen screamed. Then Hansel and Gretel explained it all. The queen wept and beat the king’s chest with her hands. But after that she laughed through her tears and threw her arms around all of them. Then she wept some more.
“You’re all okay?” she asked, as tears streamed down her face.
“We’re all okay,” they said together.
And they all held one another—one big, happy, sad, complicated family—as tightly as they always should have.
The End
Nearly.
I’m sorry. Before I tell you the very, truly, absolutely end, I’ve got to interject one last time.
For fun.
Or to help you, if I can. (Though I wouldn’t count on it.)
Why did this patricidal beheading have to happen? Why something so awful? So gruesome? So upsetting? Why was their father the dragon? And did they really, really have to cut off his head?
And what about everything that came before that? All this blood and this pain. What sense does any of it make? Is there any sense at all?
I don’t know.
I mean, what does under-standing have to do with returning to your family? Or cutting off your finger have to do with turning into a wild beast? What does an old crone with a shackle on her leg have to do with Faithful Johannes? Or three black ravens with cages full of white doves? Why is the moon creepy and cold, when the stars are bright and kind? Why was the widow a good parent, and yet no more able to protect Gretel than the bad parents? What did all of this mean—these strange, scary, dark, grim tales?
I told you already. I don’t know.
Besides, even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.
You see, to find the brightest wisdom one must pass through the darkest zones. And through the darkest zones there can be no guide.
No guide, that is, but courage.
As Hansel and Gretel and the queen and king held one other, the final golden fumes of the dragon drifted from the chimney and out onto the morning air. The gold mingled with the sunrise and slowly suffused itself over the whole kingdom. As people woke that morning, they saw it. They were drawn out of their houses by it, by the beautifully golden smoke that floated beneath the clouds. They followed it. Without wondering, without saying a word, they followed it. As if they knew, upon seeing it, that something had happened. Something important. And that, to find out what it was, all they had to do was follow the golden smoke.
Along the roads, the subjects of Grimm walked silently toward the source of the beautiful golden light. Toward the castle.
“You never told us,” the queen said to her children as they sat on the floor of the bedroom, blood winding through the crevices of the stones, collecting in little pools. “You never told us where you’ve been, and what you’ve done.”
Hansel and Gretel looked at each other.
“You don’t have to tell us,” their father said gently. “Not now. Not ever if you don’t want to.”
Hansel held his sister in his gaze. Her eyes, ocean-blue, sun-bright, were happier, clearer than he had seen them in a long, long time. Gretel returned her brother’s stare. He looked unburdened. Lighter. And he looked older than he had ever looked. Not old with care. Old with wisdom.
“We can tell you now,” Gretel said.
And so they did. Hansel started with what Johannes had told him, about the old king, lying on his deathbed. Gretel planned to pick up as soon as she and Hansel entered the story.
But just then there was a knock on the king and queen’s chamber door.
“Yes?” said the king.
A servant poked his head in. “Excuse me, Your Majesty,” he said. Then he saw blood on the king. “Your Majesty! Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” said the king. “What is it?”
“I ... uh ...” The servant, named Wilhelm, shook his head and tried not to stare at the blood. “Your people,” he went on. “They’re standing outside the castle.”
“What? What people?”
“The subjects.”
“Which subjects?” the queen demanded.
“All of them, Your Majesties.”
The king and queen leaped to their feet. “But why?” the queen asked.
“I ... I’m not sure,” said the servant. “I think it might have to do with the golden smoke.”
“What smoke?” said the queen.
“The dragon,” Gretel whispered to her.
“What?” the king said. Hansel gave him a meaningful look. “Oh,” he said. “Right.” He turned to his wife. “Should we go down?” He looked concerned.
The queen looked at her children.
“It’s okay,” Hansel said. Gretel nodded.
But the queen said, “No. Let them wait.”
“But, Your Majesty!” the servant said. “They’re calling for you!”
“Let them call,” the queen replied.
The king added, “Try to keep them entertained.”
The servant was about to protest again, but, on seeing the expressions on his masters’ faces, thought better of it. He closed the door. Hansel and Gretel smiled at their parents, and Hansel started again.