Riquet with the tuft

No one knew actually what to say
to the Queen. She gave birth on the first Tuesday
in June. Sunlight showered the crib
of the newborn with the twisted hip.

It wasn't the only thing the child suffered from
as anyone could see who visited the dome
of the royal family. It was there where a broken king sat at his throne,
and a young mother could only cry
asking herself "what went wrong, why, oh why me,
oh, why did this happen to my baby?"

While her baby was sound at sleep,
her heart was torn and she could only weep
about her own misery, about what the nation would say,
about the man who forced her to deliver his monster on this horrible day.

"What a special lad we have here."
It was a gorgeous lady who spoke and stood near
the crib. Her voice sounded gentle while she gleamed at the child.
An overwhelming smile was her reward, love filled her heart.

"An intelligent, great personality arrived into this world as we all can see",
said the noblewoman who was known as the birth fairy.
"There's no need to weep and complain,
his wisdom will his true love gain
while it is beauty his beloved one can give to him.

Here is where my poem about Riquet starts, with this boy's birth. He was lucky because he had a fairy watching over him and hopefully his parents did the same. At least they were wealthy and could afford it to build him a life. A life away from the society where no one would scold at him or made his life miserable.

Riquet with the Tuft (French: Riquet à la Houppe) is one of my favourite tales although as I read it for the first time I had a hard time understanding what it was about.
It is a French literary fairy tale published (most likely not written) by Charles Perrault in "Histoires ou contes du temps passé" (1697).

I always wondered why Riquet lived in the forest with his people, servants underneath the ground. The dumb girl clearly wasn't surprised which means she knew there were (disabled) people out there.
Is this fairy tale the start of all those tales about the still famous "kabouters" (a wrong translation is "gnomes")? Are these stories told in reality about the little people, the disabled ones no one liked to be seen with?

Know it was them who lived and hid in the woods, did services for the healthy ones for a bit money once it became dark because society felt ashamed about them, kicked them out.

I write. I am a writer and tales are my speciality. There is more Riquet, the tale doesn't end here but I decided not to publish it all here. It doesn't feel good to me but if you study how I wrote this and the poems (all tales) underneath, I am sure you can do it too.

Little red rides

https://read.cash/@wakeupkitty/the-little-red-rides-a21bdbaa

Those 7 goats

https://read.cash/@wakeupkitty/those-7-goats-c61d7136

The tree pigs

https://read.cash/@wakeupkitty/the-three-pigs-572d0d1e

Snow white

https://read.cash/@wakeupkitty/snow-white-98835fa1

#kittywu #poetry #tale #riquetwiththetuft #riquet