Tales of the Big Bad Wolf: The Red Riding Hood Arc (A Fairy Tale)

Chapter Two: The Door of Hazel, The Castle of the Wolf

Knock at the door,

Pull the bell,

Lift the latch,

Walk in all's well

-Grimm's Fairy Tales

The snow continued to fall softly, erasing the crisp tracks left upon the ground on which they walked.

As for the walk itself, it had lengthened beyond what Elanore had expected. She had earlier failed to realize the building that she had seen from the gate at the road was not all that close. From there it had appeared to be a small building, but as she continued down the path it became apparent it was quite large.

The young lady took small steps to the Count's large ones, trying valiantly to keep close to the man. She had not been brought up to follow strange men here or there but brushed aside her concerns. She had been told that surviving the winter in the north might mean learning to adapt to new customs and rules.

They went deeper down the path through the line of trees and bushes. Her curiosity about this place and the man who lived there only grew with her rescuer’s continued silence. In all the stories she had heard of Winchester she had never heard of this estate or its Count. Unfortunately, the walk thus far did little to reveal much about either.  

When the path abruptly widened, she found herself standing in a courtyard of statues. Dozens of nearly identical stone lions sat in the midst of a barren, frozen garden staring back at the path. They were smaller copies of the stone guardian on the bridge.

The Count stopped next to the last lion in their path. For a moment, he placed a gentle hand on it before brushing off the snow that had collected on top of its head. When finished, he resumed his walk towards the closest house.

As she passed this lion, she also paused to look at it carefully. She studied it, trying to understand why it did not look like the others. It was, in fact, posed in such a manner that it appeared more lively than the others in the garden. Even then that did not explain the odd feeling it gave her. She concluded there was something remarkable about the way the sculptor had rendered the eyes before she hurried onwards.

The Count had eased his pace, allowing her to catch up to him. When she reached him he did not turn around while breaking his silence. "It is safer here."

She noted the slight shift in his demeanor, the relaxing of his shoulders. She glanced about, seeing more of what surrounded her. She could not contain her sense of wonder at the lions behind them or the immense stature of the building she had seen from the road, now in front of her.  

Elanore lifted her boots, shifting them back and forth as she stamped down the snow beneath her feet.  Her thoughts still dwelled upon the lion statues. "The stone lion on the bridge-- you have others like it here."

"Indeed," he gave a hint of a smile, "One might say that they are its brothers."

The young woman took a moment to openly glance back at the lions that lined the path upon which they had walked. The way the lions were aligned left a peculiar impression upon her. She began to count them as the man started to move again.

He stopped at the foot of a large door over which stood a wooden frame engraved with numerous images.

Elanore joined him, unable to contain herself as she openly marveled at the sight of such intricate and detailed handiwork. “It’s beautiful,” she said with both delight and reverence.

He, too, gazed at the carvings with something like pleasure. "It is a door wrought by the hands of the elves." He pushed it open for her. "They call it a door of magic, made of hazel wood."