Notes: The following is my loose retelling of the 14th century alliterative Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, the narrative of which was reworked by me under the influence of J.R.R. Tolkien, Lord Dunsany, and G.R.R. Martin in order to make it coherent with another medieval poem of the Gawain cycle, The Marriage of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle, so to fictitiously restore what scholars J.R. Hulbert and Jessie Weston reconstructed to have been the original Gawain narrative, i.e. a Fairy Mistress story.
* * *
On New Year’s Day, in the early morning, Sir Gawain mounted Gringolet and, following the guide Lord Berleddisg had appointed to lead him to the Green Chapel, eventually left the castle of Uchel Anialwch. The landscape surrounding them was still covered in snow, but it was not a grey desolation as on Christmas, when the castle seemed like the last flicker of hope in a barren wasteland, and the impression Gawain had, before being surprised by a warm welcome, was that he, like the forest, was a ragged beggar desperate for attention. In the glimmer of the first sunlight, now, the woods rather suggested the unsullied white dress a child might wear on the day of his Baptism, thus mirroring Gawain’s clear conscience after his confession in the chapel the day before. They followed in utter silence an half-buried track among the trees, almost like two pilgrims walking the naves of a great cathedral, until the path split in opposite directions, and the guide halted. He was a young man named Byrne, almost as old as Gawain, brown hair, blue eyes, a scar on his upper lip.
“Listen,” he spoke, turning towards the knight. “Nobody has to know. We will just say you got there and nobody came. Your honour will not be spoiled, and you will not lose your life. I am certain Lord Berleddisg himself will sigh in relief when he sees you coming back unscathed.”
Gawain smiled. “I am Sir Gawain, son of King Lot, and I am a Knight of the Round Table. My shield is Mercy, my sword is Justice, my word is Truth.”
Byrne, clearly impressed, nodded. “Sorry, Sir. Sorry, Sir. Just a thought… I am no knight, and a craven. But come this way, follow me, we are almost there…”
They took the path on their right, and after a few turns arrived into a large clearing in the centre of which a mound rose, green under its white cap of snow.
“Here you are, Sir. I am sure, now, you will be able to find the entrance by yourself, because, you see, I really have some pressing business left unfinished at Uchel Anialwch, so, if I may have your permission…” And, even without waiting for Gawain to nod his assent, Byrne spurred his horse and galloped back away in a rush…
What they called the Green Chapel was disquieting, Gawain in his mind conceded to justify his guide’s behaviour, but not so disquieting as to discourage him too. Then, as he entered the clearing, what in the past year Gawain had only seen in his dreams materialized before him, between him and the mound. The Black Knight from his worst nightmares, the only man who had unhorsed him in a joust, the illegitimate fruit of dark magic and deception born from his unwitting incest with his aunt Morgan, stood right there on in the middle of the clearing, mounting his black stallion and was looking at him.
“Hello, daddy!” he shouted, provokingly.
But Gawain would not let himself be hindered anymore. “I am not your father”, he coldly declared, adamant in his convictions.
“Wait until mommy hears about this!” the boy exclaimed, as he put off his helmet, revealing a face incredibly similar to Gawain’s, only younger. “It was you who named me, how can you not remember, dad? I am your son, Morfardd!”
“You are not my son,” Gawain loudly stated, “because you do not even exist.”
Morfardd froze, as an expression resembling sheer terror appeared on his face. He swiftly unsheathed his sword and spurred his stallion into a charge, yelling: “Nooooo!!!”
Gawain did the same, but he had no rush, and certainly would not shout. The two knights met each other in the lowest spot of the clearing, as the ground then gradually rose on both sides they came from, both towards the forest and the mound. Morfardd’s sword bounced upon his opponent’s new shield, a common wooden piece that the armorer at Uchel Anialwch had given him, and that now burst into splinters, but Gawain’s sword cut off Morfardd’s head, thus ending their fight for good. As Gawain turned his horse back, there was no trace left of either the stallion or the headless body, but Morfardd’s severed head was hovering in the air, looking at him.
“How did you know?” the head asked him.
“My love for Faebrielle would not let me sleep with her like. Thus I knew, even under a spell, I could never sleep with my own aunt,” Gawain said.
“Yours was still only a guess,” the head remarked.
“Or so lack of faith would speak,” Gawain observed, upon hearing what was left of Morfardd grind its teeth in a horrible grimace, then faded into thin air, as though the man bearing that name never existed at all.
Gawain got off his horse and explored the mound, looking for an entrance. He could almost hear a voice from the Green Chapel, as though a monk was reciting his Praises. By following that voice, he managed to find a hidden opening under some roots, and he bent his head in order to enter. The Chapel inside looked like a tomb, but a ray of light came in through a hole in the ceiling, lighting what at first could pass for a statue, but, after opening a single, red, bloodshot eye, revealed itself as the Green Knight. Gawain, whose heartbeat pounded like Norwegian drums, took a few long, deep breaths before kneeling in front of the Green Man and offering him his neck.
The Giant loudly laughed: “So you do have a tiny grain of honour, after all! I recognize it: you have come here, to respect our agreement.”
Then, though, the Green Knight spoke in all seriousness: “Now, let us see what my axe finds,” and, as he said so, he raised another huge green axe of his, entirely alike the one he had left at Camelot.
Gawain slightly flinched after the thought of being beheaded, so the Giant did not give him his blow.
“Would you rather go, Sir? Or have you come here for a reason?”
“I am sorry,” was all Gawain could reply.
“Ring-a-ring o’ roses, a pocket full of posies…” the Green Knight grotesquely sang, before feinting to swing his axe into Gawain’s neck.
Arthur’s nephew again flinched, and his executioner looked disappointed once more.
“…a-tishoo! A-tishoo! But nobody falls down…” he complained.
“I promise not to flinch now,” Gawain assured him, and did his best to control himself.
The Green Knight looked pleased, and raised his axe again.
“Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came…” he muttered this time, adding: “…because he thought aught else would be a shame!”
His blow had fallen on Gawain’s neck, but the giant had stopped short of beheading him, barely scratching his skin.
Gawain rose, relieved. “You delivered your blow, Green Knight, and I did not flinch. Our bargain is honoured.”
“Indeed, Sir”, the Green Man said, smiling, “and I am happy you and the Princess managed to dispel Morgan’s plot while still honouring the laws of Elfland and the wishes of the late King Oberon.”
“What do you mean?” Gawain asked, perplexed.
“Oh, you see, it was only a play here. Your fate was sealed in Uchel Anialwch. The rest was only a consequence,” the Giant started explaining.
“How so?” Gawain inquired.
“Three blows here, like the three days there. Two days respecting our agreement to exchange winnings, two feigned blows. On the third day you kept my wife’s sash, so I scratched you,” the Green Knight concluded.
“Wait! What? Are you saying you are…?” Gawain asked, shocked.
“Lord Berleddisg, at your service,” his interlocutor introduced himself.
“But why?”
“We had to test your courage, and you passed by coming here. Only the brave do not fear death, and only the brave may marry the Princess of Elfland. But we also had to test your loyalty to her, so you were also tempted in your faithfulness to her… and you passed that too, brilliantly, I might add. Because Morgan thought that you would fall for my wife Reyniette, being she Faebrielle’s cousin, and so close to her likeness, and even being she enchanted so to remind you of her… But Faebrielle herself had decided to send her cousin, among all the other choices, and Faebrielle herself had enchanted Reyniette, because your beloved had equal faith in you, and she knew you would not succumb to temptation, and instead you would so realize what she could not tell you anymore, that Morgan had deceived you into believing you had had a son named Morfardd with your own aunt. Furthermore, this was the only way you had to prove at the same time that you love Faebrielle, by not resulting entirely untouched by Reyniette, but at least accepting her girdle, so to cause me to shed a few drops of your blood. Only this way might the Gate open.”
Gawain was speechless, but somehow he knew what he had to do. He took the girdle in his right hand, and used the left to touch the scratch on his neck, then put his bloodsoaked fingers above the girdle, and, as soon as three drops of his blood fell on the green sash, the Green Knight and the Green Chapel around him disappeared.
This time Gawain himself, all of him, mind, body, and soul, was in Elfland. The sky in the East was tinged with pink, foretelling dawn, and the whole place was a triumph of flowers, like in his visions. Under the pink-barked tree, Faebrielle was waiting for him, smiling adorably. He came to her in the ecstasy of the purest joy he had ever felt, and they hugged each other and kissed for what could have been forever but seemed always too short a time, crying and laughing at the same time in their bliss, finally together, and speechless. When they paused from their kissing, they found themselves in the presence of Glaxamarne the Gnome, Steward of Elfland, whom Gawain had already met, and two centaurs. Glaxamarne explained them how their marriage had to be celebrated immediately, otherwise Gawain would not be allowed to stay, so a brief ceremony was performed before the two centaurs as witness, and Gawain and Faebrielle thereafter also received the crowns of King and Queen of Elfland. They spent that night, like all the others, in the Royal Palace, and, after nine months precisely, Faebrielle gave birth to Gwynwalch, a boy, the heir to the throne of Elfland. When the child was three months old, Gawain was told by Faebrielle he had to appoint a Steward and return to Uchel Anialwch, so that they could also be together “on the other side”. Gawain trusted her, so he nodded his assent.
The next day, Gawain kissed goodbye to his son and returned to the place where the pink-barked tree stood. Once there, he noticed the scratch on his neck was bleeding again, so he let a few blooddrops fall on the green girdle once more, and instantly found himself back into the Green Chapel. There was no sign of the Green Knight, so he went outside and found Gringolet still waiting for him.
“Good old boy,” he patted him on his back, and jumped on his saddle.
After not too long a ride, he arrived in Uchel Anialwch, greeted by a whole crowd of people. Once he was escorted into the Hall of Thorns, Lord Berleddisg welcomed him dearly and said: “The knight who defeated Death itself deserves a marvelous reward. Name one woman in this court, whoever you may choose, and she, maiden or married woman, will be yours.”
In other words, Gawain thought, I have to recognize Faebrielle here “on the other side.”
She cannot be Reyniette, because that is her cousin… and then Gawain realized. Faebrielle had been guiding him all along, one word at a time.
“I choose Lady Breifalire,”
Lord Berleddisg gasped, then smiled. “Kiss her, and she will be yours forever.”
And, as Gawain did so, the ugly crone turned into Faebrielle.
“My love,” she said, “ I can only be fair at day, and hideous at night, or the other way around. What do you choose?”
Gawain had no doubts. “Such is not a choice for me to take. It is you who has to decide which appearance you would like to have.”
“My love!” she exclaimed, happy as a child. “Now, since you left me my choice, I will always be me! You have completely dispelled all of Morgan’s curses!”
Gawain sighed, because he recalled a promise he had made. “Not all curses, sadly…”
Faebrielle asked him: “What do you mean, my love?”
“I had promised a couple in Caer Cleu I would bring their boy back, but I could not find him… He was abducted by the Black Knight, and I have no idea…”
“Stttt!” Faebrielle silenced him: “Even this is part of the design of Fate”, she added, mysteriously.
Faebrielle and Gawain got married “on the other side” the next day in Uchel Anialwch, and again they conceived on the night of their wedding, so that they spent nine more months there before she gave birth to Guinglain, Gawain’s second son, but still his firstborn outside Elfland. As soon as Faebrielle recovered from the labour, they took their leave from Lord Berleddisg and began their journey towards Camelot, where they only arrived shortly before Christmas. The return trip was way easier than the former, in part because they often stopped in any safe place to let the mother and the newborn rest, in part because Gawain was now feared and avoided by outlaws and monsters alike, and also because both categories were significantly diminished in numbers after his first journey. They stopped for an especially long time in Caer Cleu, where they were still waiting to celebrate the slayer of the wyrm Chreibadsyg, so they held a huge feast in his honour. Before they came to visit Wyrfynd and Treiri in Caer Cleu, Faebrielle explained to Gawain they had to leave Guinglain in adoption to the couple, who would raise him in the same love they would have had for Rhys…
Gawain was shocked, but Faebrielle told him they had no choice, because their time together “on the other side” was almost finished, and they had to appear together at Camelot at least once before she returned to Elfland.
“How will I see you then?”
“You will always have the Mirror, and every New Year’s Day you may repeat the blood ritual with the girdle and come to visit me in Elfland.”
“And you? When will you come here ‘on the other side’, as you say?”
“Every time I have a chance to, and I will always tell you, as soon as I know…”
Gawain could not do but accept those terms, but he would be fooling himself if he did not admit to himself he had hoped for better.
The parting from another son of theirs was especially painful, but eventually they came to Camelot, where everybody was exceedingly happy to see Gawain, and astonished by the fairy beauty of his bride. They were married again by Father Poc in the Church of Saint Michael, and when they kissed Faebrielle vanished in the air, leaving behind a rain of flower petals. King Arthur asked Gawain to tell the tale of his adventures in detail, and his nephew satisfied his request, but his tale was bitter, now that he and Faebrielle were separated once more, and he said that he blamed himself for accepting the green girdle from Reyniette, because, if he had not, now he would not be missing Faebrielle so much. However, to his utter surprise, nobody took him seriously as he said so: the whole court burst into laughter, and they even agreed all of them would wear green sashes in his honour! Gawain sighed, but he also felt relief, for in some weird way being misunderstood now felt like home to him, and also because he could not deny that, objectively speaking, he had gained much in all senses since he had left. He could not bring himself to full-fledged laughter, but at least he managed to flaunt what looked like a proud smile, wherein only the brightest might spot a vein of sadness.