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Once upon a time, there was a village in a forest. It had the usual things such villages do, a miller and a blacksmith, pretty maids, a priest, and fae creatures in the shadows of the trees. This was a long time ago, you see, when the fae weren't quite so hidden and the moon hung always in the sky. It didn't wax and wane then, only pointed with it's crescent shape towards the north star, making it easy for people to find their way home.
One night a maid was finding her way home from visiting her sweetheart when her path took her too close to the woods. She wasn't afraid of the woods, you see, because she left milk out for the fae and knew not to step into their circles. What cause would anything in the woods have to harm her? But harm isn't the worst thing that can happen at night in the woods with the fae, and this was not her night. A fae prince was abroad, riding to his hunt, and he saw her beauty in the thin crescent moonlight. The prince fell in love with her at that instant, and swore he'd make her his bride.
But even when a prince decides, he still must ask permission. He paid a visit come the dawn and asked if he could court her. Her father said yes, because he was a miller, and wished for his daughter to be a princess. His daughter turned her face away and said nothing, because she already had a sweetheart, but didn't want to anger the prince.
After a moment of silence, the prince excused himself, determined to acquire a courting gift. As soon as he was out of sight, the maid fled to the smithy. For her sweetheart was the blacksmith, and they'd planned to wed in spring. She clung to him and told the tale, and they determined they'd have to wed immediately. She could not be forced to marry the prince if she were already wed, and for the two of them together it was only a matter of timing. Much relieved at having a solution, they set out to find the priest, she to the church and he to the house. Before they parted, they kissed beneath the sun, then went their separate ways.
Unfortunately, since they had kissed outside, the forest fae had seen them. They scurried through the fallen leaves, chittering, to notify the prince. At hearing that his chosen bride might love another, the prince flew into a rage. A fae rage is a terrible thing, and the wind screamed through the trees. The prince mounted his great fanged horse and rode furiously towards the village. He came too late, for the maid and the blacksmith were already married by the time he found them.
That should have been the end of it, the blacksmith and his wife able to live happily ever after. But this is not really a fairy story. It is a wolf story, so you can guess what comes after, can't you, my love?
The prince could not rip them from each other, for they stood on consecrated ground. But he railed a curse against the blacksmith, who fell to the ground crying out in pain. The blacksmith cried out again and again as his bones broke in his skin and his nails turned into claws. He was not a wolf then, but something in between, deliberately twisted by the fae prince's spite. His bride could not stop a gasp of horror at what had been done to him, but the blacksmith took it as horror at him and shied away from her. He was a peaceful man, so his first instinct was not to attack the prince. Not so his bride. She flew at him with fists and rage, but as soon as she stepped foot from the churchyard she was in his power.
He said he would have loved her evermore had she not forsaken him. But given what she'd done to him, she'd never be part of the human world again.
She feared then that he'd take her into the faerie realms, as even all those years ago the fae were known for taking captives. But the selfish lovelorn prince wanted no chance she'd ever look upon another, and so when he dragged her to his horse and rode with her to the forest he had no plan yet for what he'd do. He rode with her through all the day and on into the night. She fought him and tried to run from him, but to no avail. The moon rose on the both of them, and gave the prince an idea. He cast her from him to the sky.
She landed on the harsh cold moon, and thought that was the end. She looked down at her tormented love, exhausted from his pain, and she turned her face away, this time to hide her tears. When she turned her face away up on the moon, though, she turned the moon as well. This, darling, was the first new moon, and none could make their way home.
The blacksmith did not leave the village. As twisted as he was by the magic, he still had a strong back and two strong arms. A blacksmith doesn't need a pretty face, and besides, where would he go? No other village was his home, and the woods held hated fae. So the blacksmith did his smithy work and mourned his missing bride. And though he was a gentle man, he plotted his revenge.
The moon-maid could not cry forever, and eventually she dried her tears. She found that she could look down to the village at night, and tried to get a glimpse of her blacksmith. She spotted him one night, twisted but still recognizable as hers. She shone bright as she could to catch his eye, but to no avail. The next night she shone brighter still and he spied her. He whispered her name into the night, and joy transfused his ravaged face.
She tried to face him fully and shine brighter to show he was still loved, but the distance made it harder, and night faded too fast. The next night she found him outside, gazing up at her. His features were more monstrous still, but his face was filled with contentment.
They could not speak, meeting as they did, but still they planned together. She was able to face him more fully every night, the first waxing of the moon as she grew full of love for him. Finally she faced him full-on, and as they gazed at each other the blacksmith's bones broke again. He slipped from monstrous form into a sleek dark wolf, able to howl both love and vengeance. With the morning his form changed again, a moment of just claws and teeth and then into the shape of a man. His heart sang loud with hope that all fae magic could be so undone.
He waited in hope for his bride to appear, but she didn't until after the sunset. The moon rose again, and there she was. He was overjoyed to see her, even if she was still distant. His joy was matched by hers at seeing him happy and whole. When she rose high into the sky, he slipped again into his wolfish form, bewildering them both. But in this form he ran through the night, chasing her across the sky, and they could at least spend time together.
A third night they spent together, and then she felt herself begin to wane. Her terror and her sadness sped her waning, despite the love of her blacksmith wolf. But she didn't let herself linger in the darkest of her despair. She felt her feelings fully, but then she shone again. Her blacksmith love greeted her with relief, and told her of his plans. As blacksmith he had wrought a sword, a heavy thing and ugly. He'd use it to take the fae prince's head if he wouldn't bring her down again. She told him stop, she told him wait, because she knew killing was against his nature. He listened to her and bided his time even as he kept the blade sharp. He didn't want to use it, for he'd never killed a living creature, but he would defend what he loved.
The moon-maid waxed full once more, and when she shone full upon him, he slipped into a wolf again.
By this time the fae prince had heard rumor that the two had found a way to be together even as he kept them apart. He sought the beast he'd made, but found only a wolf. The wolf ran home under the moon, searching for his sword. But the moon-maid saw the chase and its inevitable destination. Her heart took wing in panicked love, and she followed her own light home to the smithy. She took up the sword her husband had made and ran into the yard. Wolf and prince came in too fast, and the wolf flew past her. The prince behind him would have ridden her down, but she held the sword out and true and in his mindless cruel pursuit he rode straight into it. The sword pierced his chest, knocking him off his horse. He screamed, high and long, and the wound on his chest started to smoke. The smoke rose to the moon, and the moon-maid felt herself settle more truly to the earth. She turned to face her husband, who shifted to his human skin so he could kiss her.
Even with the moon-maid gone, the moon still waxes and wanes. The blacksmith and his wife had their happily ever after, and the blacksmith and their children all changed under the moon, as do we all, even to now.
There are three things to take away, dear heart:
You are always what you are, no matter what your skin.
You can break a curse with human love.
You kill a fae with iron.