Unicorns: Where Tom Cruise Meets J. K. Rowling

The Unicorn was rather popular in medieval times. In fact, the Church eventually took the beast on as a Christ symbol. In secular culture, the Unicorn – or rather, its horn – was universally believed to contain magical powers of protection and healing. If you could turn the horn into a goblet and drink from it regularly, you would not only cure any illness you might currently be experiencing, but you could also make yourself immune to poison and disease.

(People really did believe this. Medieval con artists made a pretty penny by selling narwhal horns.)

How would one obtain the horn, you ask? That’s where it gets nasty – and Legend-ish. You simply send a virgin out into the woods; the Unicorn, drawn to her innocence, will come frolicking up and lay its head in her lap; then, you are free to slay the beast and take the horn.

In the travesty of this legend, I found my kernel for the tale of the Unicorn.

The Ancient contains many sad tales, but this one might just be the saddest. Here be the first part to whet your emotional whistle:

     “This,” said the Last, each word unfolding painfully, reluctantly – yet relentless were the images in their penetrating clarity, “is a tale of the Pure, whom you in your tongue call the Unicorn.
     “Light has many facets and contains within itself all colors. When light is pure – unsullied by tainted fuel, and unhindered by any obscuring influence – then it can illuminate and reveal as it was intended to do. The role of the Pure was to cultivate this wholesomeness, allowing the Light to bear fruit freely throughout the sphere of her influence.
     “She traveled far and wide, and everyone who tasted of her conversation found their minds cleansed and their eyes lifted. They were able, for a time, to see through the lies of the Wasting and beyond its pervasive Decay, and they no longer acted or reacted out of the despair with which it enshrouds the hearts of Humankind – for a time. Often, alas, the Pure would return to a community she had visited but recently, only to find their souls even more infected and festering than before. Still, occasionally, a seed would take root in the ground she had cleared and soaked in the water of immaculacy. Then she would return to find a garden of Light flourishing, suffusing all nearby hearts with sweet, cleansing fragrance. Such rare but undeniable tokens of hope strengthened her gentle heart to continue in her wandering.
     “In time, as with all the Ancients, the Wasting divided Humankind from the company of the Pure, tainting or obscuring all mortal memory of her fellowship. She began to find herself unwelcome, even in communities whose original prosperity and mutual goodwill stemmed from her wholesome influence. Still, the burden of her calling lay heavy upon her, and the uncompromising virtue of her own spirit would not allow her to forsake her duty. She continued to wander – cautiously, but in hope and faith that the Light would, ultimately, transcend.
     “One day, while making her way through a dense forest, she came upon a maiden who was weeping as if her heart would break. The Pure sat down beside the girl, and the mortal laid her head upon the Unicorn’s snow-white neck and continued to weep, until the beast’s mane was soaked and fragrant with sweetly innocent tears.
     “When the maiden was able to speak, she told the Pure that her father, a poor farmer, was marrying her to a nearby landowner who was exceedingly wealthy, but hard of heart and mindful only of advancing his own lands and interests. What pained the girl more than the prospect of such a husband, however, was seeing her father lose himself thus in greed and Fear of want, for he had always been a good and kind man, and he loved his daughter dearly. Her tears were for his sake, rather than her own, and the selflessness of her sorrow made her soul shine almost as brightly as a Radiant One in the eyes of the Pure.
     “The Pure, seeing instantly that the father’s mind had been poisoned by the Wasting, asked the girl if she might accompany her home. The Ancient wished to plead with the girl’s father – not only for the daughter’s sake, but for the father’s own good. The maiden agreed, desperate for any hope that her father might yet be saved.

For the rest, you’ll have to wait for The Ancient – so, in order to shorten that wait, I bid you adieu and return to the editing table (otherwise known as my kitchen counter).

In the meantime, may the spirit of the Pure cleanse our minds and hearts from the Wasting.