All language subtitles for The.Storyteller s01e07_English

[Cawing]

[Storyteller]
When people told themselves
their past with stories,

explained their present
with stories,

foretold the future
with stories,

the best place by the fire
was kept for...

[Clinks]

The storyteller.

One day, in November,
the queen died.

Outside the palace,
the leaves fell, lamenting,

reds and golds falling.

Inside, weeping,

the king, his 3 sons,
his daughter.

And the people filed slowly by
to shed their own tears

for the dear queen.

But there was one
among the mourners,
whose eyes were dry.

[Storyteller]
There was one,
among the mourners,

whose heart was ice,
whose soul was cold,

whose smile was sly,

whose brain raced ahead
to the day

when the king would want
to ease his loneliness.

And the witch,
for witch she was,

fixed her dry eyes
on the king, and schemed.

[Witch]
Mine.

She schemed.

Mine, all mine.

And you may well weep.

Her scheme was simple
and terrible.

She groaned for power,

for majesty over all things,

for the cold ring of gold
around her head.

She wanted this
until the want ate away
her heart and soul.

So she set to work
on the king.

The king wouldn't marry
a witch!

No, the king
didn't even see the witch.

He didn't feel
the sun on his face,
or the rain.

Just this tug of the past,
all day, all night.

Memories tugging
on his sleeve.

His poor heart, you see,
was broken.

But the witch could
charm the skin from a snake,

and she turned all her power
on the king.

She wound him in,
inch by inch.

The past tugging him
one way,

she patiently
pulling him the other.

Because he thought
when he looked at her
he saw his wife's face.

And indeed, he did.

"You're back,"
he keeps saying.

She says,
"our little secret."

That's witchery!

Oh, yes. It was a spell,
and it worked.

I've got
something wonderful
to tell you.

I've met someone
very special.

[Sighs]

Children,
we're going to be married.

We're going
to be happy again.

I hope you'll think of me
as your friend.

And then,
in time, perhaps,

as your mother.

Our mother's dead.

I think we mean
as a new mother, don't we?

Yes.

In time.

Well...

[Sighs]

Try for me, will you?

[Storyteller]
Oh, yes.

All hugs, all family,

but witch watched,
and cursed them.

They were her rivals
and her enemies,

these 4 grieving
and bewildered children.

And a canker grew in her mind,
because she would not share.

She wanted it all.

And she sowed a seed of fear
in the children's lives.

Stairs gave way,
horses bucked wild,
balconies crumbled,

even the toy box
was terrible.

Of course, the witch herself
was all honey,

always honey.

But, sometimes,
the king caught a look

and worried
she was also the bee.

That's right!
And bees sting!

I hate that witch.

Poor man, then.

Torn in half,
enchanted by his new queen,

frightened for his children.
What could he do?

[King]
I said I'd take you
on a special holiday.

We're almost there.

[Prince #1]
A forest?

A magic forest.
Follow the thread.

[Princes]
Follow the thread.
Follow the thread.

Hurry up! It's perfect!
There's a stream!

And a house!

It's beautiful.

[Storyteller]
And sure enough, there it was,
pink and perfect.

And the boys
larked and larruped

as if a great weight
had lifted off them.

And their sister
sat by the stream
and dipped her toes

and missed her mother,
which she always did,
when she was happy.

This is your
secret place.

No one can
find you here
without the thread.

I'll visit you
each day.

You've brought us here
because of her, haven't you?

Our stepmother.

No, of course not.

[Storyteller]
But, his daughter was right,
quite right.

For even as she spoke,
the witch, her stepmother,

sat in her tower
and studied horrible spells.

For the children
were obstacles
between her and power,

growing, daily growing,
like clouds over her.

And now she would discover
where they were, her clouds,

and puff them clean away.

[Creaking]

Where've you been?

I took the children
on a trip, a holiday.

Oh, yes? Anywhere nice?

Yes. Very nice.

Mmm-hmm.

What's that you're sewing?

Shirts.

I'm sewing them all
little shirts.
Aren't they sweet?

That's nice.
Yes, they'll love those.

You're being
very mysterious.

Am I? What about?

The children.
Our children.

You want me
to be their mother,

but what mother
can tolerate

not knowing where
her children have gone to?

I-I just want them
to have a secret holiday.

It makes it special.

Secret. Yes, of course.

But what if something
should happen to them?

Then where would we be?

Or happen to you.

Still, let that be
an end to it.

If you don't want
to talk about it,
that's your right.

They're your children.
I am just the stepmother!

But the witch
had no intention

of letting that be
an end to it.

The next day,
the king rode off

and she followed,
stealthy as a bat,

and watched him roll out
the magic thread.

And with sly sleight of hand
she stole it for herself.

And soon she watched it
wind its secret way

towards the children.

Shirts she carried...

[Princes shouting]

And a chill curse
she knew by heart.

[All laughing]

Have you caught these fish
yourselves? How clever!

How did you
find us here?

[Prince #1]
Where's our father?

He's just coming.

Look, I've brought
you presents.
Aren't they nice?

I sewed each one by hand.

Thank you.

Well, put them on.
Then your father can see them.

[Storyteller]
But how can
their father see them?

When this thread
won't work?

When this ball
won't roll?

[Sighs]

Where's your sister?
I miss her.

She should be here.

Come along, then.
Your shirt.

[Storyteller]
And all the while,
the king stumbles,

lost in the forest,
and cries out...

Children!

"The shirt will hurt,
the wings will sting,

"the beak will shriek,
and the eyes will cry.

"The shirt will hurt,
the wings will sting..."

No!

Children!

"...the beak will shriek,
the eyes will cry.

"The shirt will hurt,
the wings will sting,

"the beak will shriek,
the eyes will cry.

"The shirt will hurt,
the wings will sting..."

Children!

"...the beak will shriek,
the eyes will cry!

"The shirt will hurt,
the wings will sting,

"the beak will shriek,
the eyes will cry!"

[Ravens squawking]

[Storyteller]
And the Princess runs,

runs for help,
runs for her life.

My daughter!

Daughter!

Boys, boys!

Husband? Husband!

What have you done?

Me? I've done nothing.
What are you doing here?
This is my secret place.

Where are my children?

Oh, are the
children here?

I can't look at you.

Please do.
Please look at me.

I heard my daughter
cry out to me.

I think you must
be unwell.

Are you sickening
for something?
Let me see.

Let me soothe you.

No, no! Get away from me!

Boys!

Boys.

Yes, you're upset.

I'll have to think about this.

[Hissing]

About what we can
do with you.

And for a day,
and a night

the Princess ran, stumbled,
fled until she dropped,

dropped into a dead sleep.

And when she woke,

she saw 3 ravens
before her,

or perhaps she dreamed it,

because they spoke to her.

"Sister," they seemed to say,

"we are trapped. Help us."

How? How can I help you?

"You must keep silent.

"You must not speak
to a single soul

"for 3 years, 3 months,
3 weeks, and 3 days.

"Only then can
the spell be broken."

Then I shall not speak.

And putting her finger
to her lips as a sign,

the Princess promised
not to speak to a single soul

for 3 years, 3 months,
3 weeks and 3 days.

The Princess,
she couldn't speak
to anyone?

No.

"Hello"? "Goodbye"?
"I'm hungry"?

No.

What about a note?
She could write a note.

Nothing.

If she spoke to another soul

her brothers would remain
ravens forever,

such was the power
of their stepmother's spell.

And so the Princess
made her home

high in the hollow
of an old, dead tree,

and was silent,
while weeks and weeks
went by.

Until, one day,
a young prince,

far from home,
stumbles across a stream.

And in that stream,

he sees a handkerchief
float by.

Hello. Is this yours?

[Birds chirping]

Come back.

Have you been cursed?
Is that it?

Can you not speak?

Don't be frightened.
I won't hurt you.

Look, I'll sit quietly,
down here, beside you.

See?

[Storyteller]
And saying that,
he sat beside her

and took out his food
and offered it to her.

And she was famished
and had some.

And soon he set off talking

of his past, his present,
and his plans.

And all the while,
he's thinking, "what eyes."

All the while he's thinking,
"to kiss that mouth."

And the prince came back
every day, for a week.

And the Princess found
she could smile again,

her darling smile.

A smile that wrapped
all the way around her heart
and his heart

and squeezed them
tight, together.

And the prince
gave up speaking, too.

And they were content
to simply sit

and hug on that smile.

Until, one day, he could not
contain his thoughts

and said them all.
"Love," he said,
and "marriage,"

and "always," and "ever."

And they kiss.
And that was that.

So, she spoke!

Not a whisper.

The prince set her up
on his horse,

and they rode the long ride
to his kingdom.

And on the way he spoke
of his father, the king,

and of his beloved mother,
who had died.

And the Princess
wanted to say, "I know."

She wanted to say,
"mine, too."

But she couldn't,
so she didn't.

And at length,
they were there,

at the gates of the palace,
and as proud as you please.

[Prince]
Father? Madam?

I want you to meet
my sweetheart.

[Storyteller]
His father looked down,

and so did his stepmother.

The witch!

The witch.

But she was married
to the other king!

The other king was dead,
poisoned.

Oh!

Oh, no. The witch
had a taste for kings now,

for countries.

For the Princess was a Thorn,
pricking at her ambitions.

The Princess
could not speak,

but she accused
with her looks.

"Killer of my father,
bewitcher of my brothers."

And the witch knew
she must have done with her,

and so,
the battle began,

the good Princess
and the wicked witch.

[Storyteller]
But the prince knew
nothing of this

and married his sweetheart.

And it was true.
The moon was honey for them.

It kicked!

It's moving!
It's kicking me.

And not a minute, it seemed,
before there he was...

A son! A boy!

And the young mother
would have given anything,

everything, to say his name,
sing to him, whisper.

But she couldn't,
so she didn't.

[Baby gurgling]

He has his mother's eyes.
How lovely.

[Baby cooing]

Let's hope
he has your voice, my dear.

Look after him, won't you?

Hug him all up, little man.

She does.

Of course she does.

[Bell ringing]

What? What is it?

Where's the baby,
darling?

[Storyteller]
The Princess didn't know
and couldn't speak.

And their baby
was nowhere to be found.

And the pain of it,
intolerable.

Until, one night,
she went to the garden

and dug, with her hands
in the ground, a small hole,

and bending to the earth,
screamed with all her heart.

Screamed and screamed
her pain into the hole
until morning.

And it was better.

[Ravens squawking]

And looking up to the sky
she saw her brothers,

the ravens,
circling above her.

"The days pass,"
they seemed to say.

"Hold to your promise.

Hold to your promise."

Your father and I
are so sad for you both.

Thank you.

So sad.

Well, it couldn't be--
you--you don't think
the Princess didn't--

well, want
the little baby,
perhaps, and--

she loved him.

Of course, she did.
Stupid.

Forget I said anything,
please?

Dearest, where have you been?
I looked everywhere.

What have you got
on your hands?

What's this?
Is it earth?

Perhaps, she's
been digging
a little hole.

What have you
been digging?

[Crying]

It must pain you
so much she's dumb.

I hate that witch!

I bet she did something
to the baby.

No one knew,
or no one said.

And when the news came

the Princess was to have
a 2nd baby,

the joy was muted, quiet.

And 2 years and 2 months

after the Princess
took her vow of silence,

another boy was born to her.

And she would not let
this precious son
from her sight,

not for an instant.

Until, exhaustion
overcame her.

And her eyes
stopped fighting, and closed.

And when she woke...

[Birds chirping]

[Piglet grunting]

And now whispers
were whispered

in the corridors
of the castle.

"2 babies disappeared!

What kind of mother?"
These whispers asked.

"Who loses babies,
who will not speak?

Cursed," they said,
these gossips,

"bewitched."

[Knocking]

Yes?

You know, before,
when my first son...

You know you asked
and I said--i said,
"impossible."

But now...
Now, I don't know,
and I'm frightened.

I know.

I understand.

And she is
with child, again.

I could not bear--shhh!

Don't worry.

When the time comes,
we must watch her closely.

We must love her
very much.

But we must
watch closely.

Don't worry. I'm here.

[Laughing]

Now, who do I
remind you of?

My mother.

I know.

[Storyteller]
And so, 3 months later,
when the baby came...

[Prince]
Darling, our son,
our beautiful little son.

What I should like to do

is, perhaps, to take him
with me for a day or 2,
somewhere safe.

Somewhere where no one
will find him, or harm him.

I told you, she wouldn't.

Of course.

Well, it's late.

Stay by her
until morning.
And then we'll see.

Stay beside her
until the morning.

He's a lovely. A lovely!

And so they sat. Silent.

Their hearts
full to bursting.

Watching their tiny child,
its fingers like stars.

And the mother prayed,
and the father prayed.

But the strain,
the tiredness of the birth,

washed over them.

Huge waves, washing over them,
lulling them to sleep.

And for a minute,
2 minutes, 3,

they slept.

And then the prince woke.

Oh, no. Oh, no!

What have you done?
What have you done?

What's happened?
What's the matter?

[Prince]
It's horrible.

I can't believe it.
She's a witch.

My poor babies.
My poor sons.

Yes, she must be burned
as a witch!

Tomorrow. Tomorrow,
she must be burned.

[Storyteller]
And so it was decreed,

that 3 years, 3 months,
3 weeks and 3 days

after she had taken
her vow of silence,

the poor, innocent, Princess

would be burned at the stake
as a witch.

Why didn't she speak?

She can speak now,
can't she?

No! Not yet,

not until the midday.

[Growls]

[Storyteller]
As they prepared
the bonfire,

the sundial
in the courtyard

was still far
from the midday.

And they came for her,
and tied her to the stake.

And as the sundial
neared the line of 12,

it was the witch herself
who lit the torch

and took it towards
the bundles of hay and twigs.

And then--
and then 3 ravens
flew at the witch,

wheeling, and diving,
and crashing.

And she dropped the torch,

and, in a second,
was nothing
but dust and ashes.

My brothers!

My brothers!

My brothers!

[Storyteller]
And her 3 brothers,
freed from their spell,

pulled their sister
from the stake,

and hugged her
and kissed her.

And now she could not speak
for crying!

And there was more...

For, now,
all was restored to her,

and good held sway.

And the girl who kept faith

and had but one face
for everyone

was rewarded
with sons, and brothers,

and a sweetheart, and a crown.

And she practiced her smile,

until it was perfect.

Well, I thought the babies
had been killed.

No, the witch had cast them
down a well.

But the ravens knew,
and caught them up, safe,

and cared for them.

And, so, they lived happily--

yes, but it wasn't
3 years, 3 months,

3 weeks,
and 3 whole days, was it?

No, clever clogs.

The Princess spoke
3 minutes too soon.

And because of that,

her youngest brother
kept one wing forever.

But he didn't mind,

and nor do I,
and nor, my dear, should you.

The tale of the 3 ravens.

Sit.