The Lindworm: a story of unconditional love
Fairy tales have the power to speak to us deeply. This is a story which I have been working on for a few months now. I know I haven't found the complete depth of it yet, but here's my progress so far.
*This article first appeared on my Substack in June 2023
The Lindworm, or Prince Lindworm, is a story that originates in Scandinavia about the 19th century, with early stories of lindworms appearing in stories about the 13th century. Lindworms are a snake or possibly a type of dragon that appeared in Northern and Central Europe mythology. They live deep in the forests, with dark colouring and a colourful underside. And of course, Viking mythology has Jörmungandr, the world serpent. Although I haven’t delved into Viking mythology yet, it is on my list!
One of my fascinations with story is how they travel and how they change. I am always seeking out the origin stories for them and at this stage, I haven’t found the Asian origin for this tale. It is believed it travelled to Europe in the 17th century but there are variants across the world, including in South America.
This is a story about a Queen and King who cannot have a child and the Queen seeks the wisdom of a crone in the forest who gives her a task to do. Of course, it’s a fairy tale and the Queen doesn’t do what she’s asked and when she gives birth, she first gives birth to a black snake. The midwife disposes of it, then a healthy son is born. The Prince grows up happy and healthy and leaves the kingdom to seek a wife. On his way, he comes across a giant black serpent who blocks his path and says “Older brothers marry first”. He returns to his parents and they investigate and they seek the midwife who tells them about the snake.
Realising he is family, the trio seeks restoration and invites the serpent to the palace where they bring him a bride. But two princesses die before the gardener’s daughter offers to marry him. She asks for a year and a day (a request which is also found in versions of Lady Ragnell and Sir Gawain) to prepare. The crone in the forest advises her to make 12 gowns and two baths. The day of the wedding arrives and the gardener’s daughter is ready. When the snake prince asks her to take off a layer, she asks him to shed a layer of skin first. This continues until he is raw, then she scrubs him, bathes then embraces him in her arms, thus breaking the curse/spell.
What I love about this story is how the wild, unlovable parts of us can be tamed and our true face can be revealed. Our authentic selves, who have been broken and hurt and grieved by life, can still be who we were born to be. This loving despite the darkness is similar to the Scottish tale of Tam Lin. Both women have the strength and inner resourcefulness to love, despite the monstrous changes in their lovers. In that way, I see it as a story of unconditional love. I love that Flora chooses the difficult path; of loving the more difficult brother; of loving the darkness, of teaching him how to love and be loved. In our world of Disneyfied fairytales, where romance is won without deep spiritual connection, this story is about real love - love of parents for their children, love of a woman for a man, and of reverence for the Earth and connection to it.
In my preparations for the oral telling of this story, I drew on the original in East of the Sun (Old Tales from the North by Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Engebretsen Moe), a version in Viking Folktales by Jake Jackson, Martin Shaw’s Version in Courting the Wild Twin and Kate Forsyth’s version in Vasilia the Wise.
This story has a twin, in Tatterhood. It is a similar tale in plot, motifs and character arc. But that’s a story for another day.
