Ethereal Chronicles

A Nixie is a Germanic water spirit. This story is one of the tales collected by the Grimms Brothers.

In a time long ago, there lived a miller and his wife, a poor yet content couple whose old mill was their one chance of survival and financial safety. Their lives, however, had drastically changed since the miller found himself struggling to keep his ownership of the mill.

Hopeless and overwhelmed, the miller wandered away from his home after discussing the situation with his wife, not telling her where he was going. He aimlessly walked in the woods near their home, eventually finding solace by the side of a serene pond. He sat down by the pond, staring out at the calm water, wondering how he might be able to secure a future for his family.

The silence of his contemplation was pierced by a soft murmur in the breeze. “Why do you despair, my dear?” The voice whispered tenderly. Raising his head, the miller’s eyes met with a woman of unparalleled beauty who had emerged from the water. Her long, obsidian hair covered her form, her gaze alight with curiosity at her visitor. The miller shrugged in response.

“I am in trouble, it seems, for I fear that our mill, our lifeline, is slipping from our grasp. I can no longer afford to keep it running. Without it, we are nothing.” He buried his face in his hands. “We are done. My wife will never forgive me.”

“Hmm.” The Nixie’s smile was bright as she glided closer, revealing her lower body to be not legs but the tail of a sea serpent. The miller recoiled, but she shook her head. “Fear not, I wish you no ill. I would much rather help you.” She said, an excited glint in her eye.

Scepticism shadowed the miller’s face. “How could you help me?”

“What if I could lift you from your debts, bestow upon you riches and wealth? What would you say then?” She unfurled her webbed hands, revealing a growing mound of glittering gold.

The sight of the gold ignited a fierce longing within the miller, like the hunger of a starving wolf seeing its prey for the first time. “I’m listening.” He breathed, his eyes as bright as the gold.

The Nixie giggled like water rippling over stone. “But of course, you know that I cannot give a gift of such magnitude for free.”

“What is your demand?” The miller blurted out, his voice a mixture of desperation and desire.

“You must give me your first born child. Promise me this and the gold is yours.” She said calmly, her gaze unwavering.

“It is done.” The miller agreed, his heart alight with greed, blind to the vow he had just made.

The Nixie nodded and placed a hand over her heart. “The child will be mine.” Her voice echoed. “Do not forget this.” As she retreated back into the depths, a cascade of gold rained upon the miller. He exclaimed with joy and collected the gold in a chest which had materialised beside him. Overwhelmed with delight, the miller hastened home, eager to share with his wife the new fortune that he had won.

Years passed, and the miller’s fortune flourished. Joy blossomed in his life with the birth of a healthy baby boy. His promise to the Nixie, however, gnawed at his stomach with every minute that passed, and he was determined to keep his son safe from the Nixie’s grasp.

As the boy grew into a handsome young man and the miller grew richer and richer, the miller began to grow more and more paranoid, consumed with the knowledge of his promise, knowing that the Nixie had not yet tried to take her payment. He warned his son of the devil pond in the woods, ordering him to avoid it at all costs if he wished to remain alive. The son agreed.

However, the miller could not protect his son forever, for time, ever relentless, saw the miller and his wife descend into old age, and finally death. On his deathbed, the miller, cursed by the looming spectre of the Nixie and his vow, begged his son for the promise that he would never go near the pond. His son promised his father, a promise he meant at the time but a promise he would soon forget.

The son, who had become incredibly skilled in the hunt, was desired by every woman in the neighbouring village. Yet, it was the woodcutter’s daughter who he found his heart belonged to. They married, and the son took his new wife back to his family home.

One day, the son was hunting not far from the forbidden waters. After killing a deer, he approached the pond to cleanse the blood from his hands, heedless of the warnings his father had repeatedly given him, and the promise he had made. As soon as his fingers grazed the water, the Nixie emerged from the pond, seizing her long awaited chance. Swiftly, she dragged the son into the water before he could utter a single cry, sealing the deal the miller had made with her so long ago.

The wife, sensing something was wrong, set out on a frantic search for her husband when he failed to return late that night. Drawn to the pond’s edge, she discovered the abandoned deer and her husband’s bow. Her heart gripped with panic, she rushed towards the water, desperately calling his name. Her cries were met with silence. Devastated and exhausted, she collapsed beside the pond, falling into restless sleep.

Her dreams took her up an old cliffside, which she ascended to find a quaint cottage perched at the edge. In this cottage she found an elderly woman awaiting her. “To save your husband, you must use this.” The woman said, handing the wife a golden comb. “You must comb your hair until your husband is out of the water. Do not stop your task too early, wait until he is safely ashore and completely out of the water, or he will be reclaimed by the Nixie.”

The wife took the comb and awoke from her slumber clutching it in her palms. She stood, determined to save her husband and believing the task easy enough to do. She approached the water’s brink and began to comb her hair. As she did so, the lake’s surface began to churn and form a vicious whirlpool, from which she heard the yelling of her husband. His head emerged, battling against the currency to reach the edge. The wife, desperate to help her husband, forgot the instructions she had been given, letting the comb fall as she extended her hands to reach for her husband and pull him out herself. As soon as she did so, the Nixie appeared, dragging him below the surface once more. The whirlpool slowed to a stop, and the lake returned to its former serene state.

The wife crumpled to the ground, distraught by the realisation of her mistake. “How could I have been so careless, so foolish? Now I’ll never get him back!” She cried, her sorrow overwhelming. She laid back down on the banks, her spirit crushed, hoping that sleep would offer her some reprieve.

To her relief, the wife once again found herself at the bottom of the cliff. She climbed it as quickly as she could, the jagged rocks unforgiving against her soft skin, scraping and tearing with every heave. At the top, as if no time had passed since their last meeting, the old woman awaited expectantly, just as she had been there before.

“Do not lose hope, little one.” She smiled, handing the wife a golden flute. “Play this under a full moon. Persist in your melody until your husband is free from the waters. Only then will he be saved.”

“I won’t let him down.” The wife promised as she clutched the flute, eager to prove that she was worthy of a second chance. Awakening with the flute’s cool weight in her grip, she waited for four long nights by the lake, until the full moon had risen high in the sky to bathe the earth in its ethereal glow. The wife stepped up against the water once more, putting the flute to her lips to play a beautiful yet sorrowful song.

Once again, summoned by the melody, a whirlpool formed, and her husband’s form thrashed at the surface. His pleas cut through the sound of the flute, twisting the wife’s heart, but she did not stop playing. Though the son strained against the strength of the current he eventually came close to the water’s edge, inches away from freedom, but the Nixie, furious at being tricked a second time, emerged from the water once more, attempting to drag him back under. The wife, in forgetful panic, lunged forwards to help her husband. But once the flute left her lips, the Nixie caught hold of the son, and sucked him back under.

The wife did not hesitate in her grief but collapsed into sleep one last time, yearning for a final opportunity to undo her husband’s fate. The guardian of the cottage offered one last item; a golden spinning wheel. The old woman advised the wife to spin flax until she had a full spool to lay down on the bank.

When she awoke, the wife found the golden spinning wheel at her side. She set it up next to the water, and began the difficult task. As she did so, the whirlpool surfaced once more, closely followed by her husband, and the enraged Nixie. Undeterred, the wife focused solely on her task, ignoring her husband’s struggles and the menacing presence of the Nixie.

With difficulty, the son managed to haul himself up onto the ground, inching away from the water. As soon as she was sure of his safety, the wife ceased her spinning and rushed to embrace him, triumphant.

The Nixie, however, was not one to be messed with. Black eyed and seething, she threw up her arms with a hideous shriek, conjuring a colossal wave that would drown the wretched couple.

The son and his wife fled, and in their frantic escape the wife cried out to the old woman, pleading with her to save them. The old woman heard the wife’s wish, and turned her and her husband into frogs so that they might survive the flood. The surge of the wave carried them far from all that was familiar to them, separating them as it did so.

Years later, as spring breathed life back into the world after a long and harsh winter, the couple had regained their former forms. The wife, journeying on a cart laden with hay, passed by a shepherd tending to his flock. She felt she recognised him, though she did not remember where from.

The shepherd retrieved from the pocket of his jacket a small flute, beginning to play the haunting melody the wife had once used to save her long lost love, stopping her in her tracks. The wife stopped the cart, feeling the warm tears well in her eyes and spill down her face. As the shepherd came to comfort her, she told him a terrible story of an evil Nixie that had stolen her husband from her.

Recognition dawned in the shepherd’s face, and he clutched her shoulders, taking off his hat so that she could see him properly. The wife, recognising her husband, gasped and threw her arms around him, clutching him tightly. “I thought I’d lost you.” She wept, staining his shirt with her tears. The son stroked her hair, and took her back to his home, where they lived out the rest of their days peacefully, just as in love as they had been all those years ago.