Fairy tales for young and old ~ English version

Opaline Ogress

 Once upon a time, in a verdant forest shrouded in the mists of mystery, there dwelled an ogress named Leena. Her skin shimmered like the facets of an opal, reflecting the myriad hues of her secluded world. Though her heart was as pure as the crystalline springs that babbled through her abode, her visage inspired fear among the villagers nearby.

Leena lived in solitude, her only companions the whispering leaves and the creatures that roamed the woods. She longed for friendship, for a connection with those who dwelled beyond the trees, but the tales of her kind had sown seeds of dread in the hearts of the villagers. They spoke of ogres and ogresses as fiends, not knowing that Leena's soul bore no malice.

As fate would have it, a mysterious ailment befell the children of the village. One by one, they succumbed to a slumber from which none could awaken. The village healers were baffled, their remedies futile against the creeping malaise. It was on a day, painted with the golden hues of autumn, that Leena's keen hearing caught the troubled voices of villagers venturing into the forest to gather wood.

Huddled beneath the sheltering arms of an ancient oak, the villagers spoke in hushed tones of the mysterious illness that had befallen their children. Their words, laden with despair, floated through the forest air, eventually finding their way to Leena's ears.

Moved by a compassion that knew no bounds, Leena resolved to aid the unsuspecting villagers. She had once heard from the whispering winds of rare healing herbs, capable of curing the most grievous of ailments. These herbs, bathed in legend, were said to bloom in the embrace of the highest mountain, perched precariously upon its sharpest edges, where the earth kissed the sky.

Without a moment's hesitation, Leena embarked upon her perilous quest. The mountain loomed before her, its peak shrouded in the mists of the unknown. The path was treacherous, a serpentine trail that coiled around the mountain like the grip of a formidable foe. Yet, Leena's resolve was as steadfast as the ancient rocks that paved her way.

As she ascended, the air grew thin, and the winds whispered warnings, urging her to turn back. But Leena pressed on, her every step a silent vow to the children she yearned to save. At last, she reached the mountain's zenith, where the herbs glowed with a celestial light, their petals a tapestry of hope against the stark backdrop of the cliffside.

With a grace that belied her formidable form, Leena harvested the herbs, cradling them with a care that only a heart untouched by malice could possess. The descent was no less daunting, yet the thought of the children's smiling faces fueled her courage, lending strength to her weary limbs.

Upon her return, Leena prepared a concoction from the herbs, its fragrance a promise of healing. She left the remedy at the edge of the village under the cloak of night, her presence unseen but her benevolence felt by all.

As dawn broke, the villagers discovered the mysterious elixir. Skepticism gave way to hope, and as the children awoke, one by one, from their unnatural slumber, the village was alight with joy and wonder. Whispers of gratitude filled the air, and though none knew the source of their salvation, the forest seemed to hum with a newfound warmth.

Leena, watching from the shadows, felt a contentment that surpassed any she had known. For though she remained apart from the villagers, she had forged a bond as enduring as the mountain itself, her act of selfless bravery a bridge across the chasm of fear.