The Errant Lonely Bell

20251201

Written for Luna Asli Kolcu’s “Myths of Winter - Week 1” event.

It was a tradition old as copper, though these days most of the bells were made of bronze or silver. They festooned scarecrows, swung on doors, and jingled merrily on hat brims or coat hems. From the first day of spring to the last day of autumn the valley was full of their chiming song. And the Harvest Goddess danced to this wild, joyful music.
But winter is a season of rest, and the Crop Mother couldn’t sleep with bells calling to her. So as the sun set on the last day before winter one of her children came down from the mountain to collect the bells.
Once, long ago, humans had kept the bells over winter and simply promised not to ring them. But… well… the cold dark months dragged on, and felt long, and it was difficult for nobody to ring a bell. And even one cheeky shake would set off the blessings etched into the metal and wake the Bountiful Maiden. And then she wouldn’t be rested for spring, and it would be a hard year.
So nowadays temptation was packed safely away, and the bells rested all winter deep under the ground, without their tongues. In exchange the bells were always returned polished and repaired. Ready to sing.
Oh, what a jolly meet it was! The whole village together, wrapping bells in sackcloth and loading them onto the satyr’s sleigh. Children danced and skipped to the music, the last they’d hear of that familiar sound until spring. And adults smiled and nodded along.
As the sun dipped below the horizon the satyr waved farewell and started trudging back up the mountain, and everyone dispersed to their homes. To settle down by the warm hearth, and eat a hearty portion of soup or stew, rich with the Harvest Goddess’s generous gifts.
Outside snow began to fall, tucking the village in under a soft bleached comforter. Winter, the season of quiet and rest, could begin.
But as the chief was banking his fire, ready to turn in, there was a knock at his door. The same familiar heavy tump-tump, tump-tump which heralded the satyr’s visit. Confused, he shuffled to answer.
Sure enough, it was the satyr - and his expression was grave. “My mother cannot sleep, for a bell still rings in the valley.”
What? A bell? Everyone knew to check carefully and leave no bell behind.
“Whereabouts?” The chief asked, stooping to grab his boots.
“I fear I don’t know. My mother can hear the bells wherever they ring.”
Ah. Hm.
While the Harvest Goddess losing one night of sleep probably wasn’t a big deal, in the grand scheme of things, it was immensely embarrassing that the problem existed at all. And by tomorrow the snow would be deep enough to hinder searching.
So the chief stomped through the village pounding on every door - for the bell in the village square had been packed away too. Once everyone was roused and the situation explained it was well after midnight. Lanterns were gathered and everyone set off in groups, ears straining for the faintest tinkle disturbing the otherwise quiet night.
First they combed the village itself. Then they spread out to the fields.
The lights bobbing above the snow looked like a sea of fireflies. Claude would’ve found it pretty if he wasn’t so tired. And cold.
“Can’t barely hear owt over my own yawns.” He grumbled.
A small hand tugged at his sleeve, and he looked down at his daughter Lily. “What’s the matter, poppet? Are your legs tired? I can give you a ride on my shoulders.”
Lily shook her head. “Member… member race?”
“What, the equinox race? Yeah, that was fun, wasn’t it?” Claude stifled another yawn in the back of his glove.
“Mm.” Lily tugged his sleeve. East. Out of the field, away from the village, towards…
“What, you wanna go look at the racetrack? There’s nothing there, poppet. It all got cleared up.”
Lily shifted from one foot to the other. Frowning down at the snow.
“Hm. Well…” Claude scratched his chin - as best he could through his thick woolly scarf. “Everyone was wearing bells. One mighta got dropped. And I doubt anybody’s looked there.”
Lily nodded and tugged his sleeve again, and this time he wrapped his hand around hers and followed.
Couldn’t hurt to check. Even if it was a long walk. Especially in this dark, cold night.
The walk felt even longer after Lily got tired and needed to ride his shoulders, but Claude forged on. Silly to turn back halfway. They’d do a loop of the-
He stumbled, swallowing a cuss, as Lily yanked his scarf up over his eyes.
“Gerumph! Careful, poppet, or you’ll-”
“Shhhh!”
Claude swallowed a few more choice words and stood still. Listening to the wind whistle through the trees.
Then he heard it - a tinkle.
“Well I’ll be. Good job, poppet! Now, where is it?”
He turned left, and right, and finally set off where the sound seemed clearest. Off the racetrack and into a thicket.
“Hm. Did a critter drag it away? Or…” Claude lifted his lantern high and examined the brush. “Ah. Aha. Do you remember those naughty miller lads trying to cheat, poppet?”
“Uh-huh! Ewyone so mad!”
“Mm-hm.” Claude swung Lily down so he could climb into the thicket unimpeded. “Well, I think this’s where they cut through. And remember how torn up the fools were? Well…”
His mittened hand wrapped around the forlorn bell, which must’ve been singing sadly to itself for weeks. Dangling from a thorny twig, unheard by anyone - except the Harvest Goddess, who couldn’t tell there was anything wrong.
“Here, poppet, you hold it quiet for me - it was your good thinking which led us here, after all.”
Lily beamed as Claude lifted her onto his shoulders once more, and they set off for home.
While up the mountain, the Harvest Goddess heaved a sigh of blessed relief and finally closed her eyes.
Peace and quiet at last.

Prompt was “A horned courier comes from the mountains to collect every town’s bells so silence can settle in safely. This year one bell is missing—and somewhere in the valley, it starts ringing on its own.”