The Strange Tale of Mary
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Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells, and cockle shells,
And pretty maids all in a row.Mary was an extraordinary child. She had simply been born blessed. At least, that’s what her mother had always told her. While other children came into this world squalling, ugly and wrinkly, Mary arrived quite calmly, with only the soft cries that one would expect from a babe that appeared so angelic.
When Mary was but a small child, it was discovered that she had a talent with plants, and especially flowers, that went far beyond common intuition. Her mother and neighbors declared that she was touched by Chauntea herself, and while Mary didn’t understand what that meant, she simply accepted this as her due. After all, she was an extraordinary child, and it was expected that such a child would do extraordinary things.
As Mary became a young woman her talent grew, as did her beauty. Men would stop and stare at her as she walked down the street. Her smile would cause the ordinary folk of the town to forget that they were walking and cause them to run into walls or trip over each other. Suitors would like up at her door, and would trail down the corner, each one waiting for an opportunity to speak with her or to listen to her bell like voice.
Everyone loved Mary.
At least, that’s what Mary and her Mother believed.
What they didn’t know was how all the women in the village would whisper behind their hands about Mary and her mother. About how no one knew who Mary’s father was. Or about how they would commiserate with each other about the fact that Mary had an odd habit of staring at a person with beautiful eyes, the blue of a summer sky, as though she could see what one was thinking. And then there was the one thing they could never put their fingers on, that they simply couldn’t properly describe, other than the fact that everything went still around the girl. Scents ceased to smell and sounds would stop being heard. In Mary’s radius, there was simply nothing… but Mary - her golden ringlets, her porcelain skin, her sky blue eyes, and angelic smile.
Then one day, the most handsome of men arrived in the town. He was accomplished, he had position in the society of the city from which he hailed. It was even said that he was a noble. Of course, every eligible girl in the town wanted him for their own. But, it was expected that Mary would be the one to get the betrothal. And at her mother’s encouragement, Mary even went so far as to ensure a marriage offer by giving the man a taste of what married life would be like.
To the shock of many, it was announced a few days later that the man had offered for a quiet and lovely girl named Mathilda, one of Mary’s few friends in the city, not Mary herself. But ever extraordinary, Mary took this news with grace and decorum, for her mother had always taught her to do so.
And even when Mathilda, Mary’s dear, dear friend, tragically died from a nasty, isolated bout of some stomach illness, Mary was still kind enough to lay light silvery purple roses on her final resting place. So deeply affected by this tragedy, the nobleman left the city, unable to tolerate living there any longer. Mary, also deeply affected by the loss, shortly thereafter left for a long visit with her Aunt who lived in Amn.
Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells, and cockle shells,
And pretty maids all in a row.
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Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells, and cockle shells,
And pretty maids all in a row.A number of years later, poor Mary returned to the town, looking much more the worse for ware over the past number of years. Some would remember that she had once been such an extraordinary girl, so beautiful. But now her once shining and golden hair was seen as dulled and frizzy, her porcelain skin now crinkled and spotted. Truly, it was difficult to even link this woman with the beautiful creature that had once dazzled men and stopped them in their tracks. And as such, people simply just chose to forget. After all, the Mary that they once knew was perhaps too perfect to have actually existed. Such women only existed in stories.
Mary soon found herself a position as a housekeeper with Merrick Juent, and his odd elven wife, and even odder half elven daughter. And wasn’t that girl just the strangest thing? But Mary seemed to take everything in stride, and cared for the family, and even put up with the daughter’s antics of sneaking out of the house, climbing to the rooftops of buildings, and doing all sorts of things that young ladies - even the odd ones - shouldn’t be doing.
It seemed that the family was Mary’s life, until one day another woman arrived in town by the name of Amberlynn. Everyone absolutely adored Amberlynn. She was so beautiful, and that angelic smile of hers could put almost anyone at ease. Most even chose to ignore the fact that she reminded the townspeople of someone else they knew… long ago. While an odd pairing, Mary and Amberlynn became fast friends and visited with each other very often. Which is perhaps how Amberlynn met and married Merrick Juent’s friend, Liore, captain of the city’s merchant fleet. Such a lovely match that was.
Time went on, and years passed. Mary kept the Juent’s house in perfect order and somehow even found time to plant the most astounding garden, filled with all matter of unusual flowers, but especially her favorite – forget-me-nots. People would stop by simply for a look at the garden or to ask for clippings, which Mary never gave out. Her garden was her one pride and joy, she would always say, and she could never mar it by destroying even one flower for a clipping.
The odd daughter eventually moved on to find herself “adventure” or so she said, and not long after that Merrick’s wife fell ill, the poor thing. Surely from heartbreak at her daughter leaving, or so everyone said. Merrick and Liore brought healers in from all over to look her over, but each one was stumped as to what was causing her illness, or what it even was. The wife simply, wasted away. The daughter returned home to tend to her mother, but it was Mary and that sweet woman Amberlynn who deserve the most credit for their compassion, as they stayed by her side, day and night and held the poor woman’s hand, until her dying breath. And they even continued to stay on to take care of poor Merrick, who was simply beside himself with grief.
Of course, the daughter – Sierra I think her name was? - left a few years after her mother passed away, leaving her father all by himself, with only Mary to depend on. But Mary, ever devoted to the family she had been charged with looking after, was dutiful and saw to poor Merrick, even when he couldn’t see to himself.
What a shame that Merrick eventually fell ill some years later too.
Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells, and cockle shells,
And pretty maids all in a row.
