Over the hills, where anemones bloom yearly,

Lived a boy alone, singing sweetly and clearly.

A long, long time ago, beyond the rolling hills, lived a beautiful boy named Baekhyun. His father was a bird keeper, his mother a florist, and together they filled the little cottage in the middle of the woods with warmth and laughter. Every day, his father brought home a new songbird from the woods, much to Baekhyun’s delight; every evening, the house was filled with silvery notes intermingling with his mother’s soft anecdotes. He was the world to them, and them to him; a happier family could nary be found.

One day, his father came home with a heavy sigh.

“What’s wrong, father?” Baekhyun asked, concerned, “did you not find a songbird today?”

“I did,” he guided his son’s hand through the wrought-iron bars of the cage, “but I won’t be able to find him a home.”

Baekhyun brushed his finger against the creature’s soft plumage, “why not, father? He’s delightful.”

“He hasn’t a voice,” his father answered softly, “I’ll have to send him back into the woods.”

“Please don’t!” Baekhyun cried, “he can stay with me. A boy without sight and a bird without song, we’re a matched set, are we not?”

His father’s hands trembled in an effort to quell the sadness that threatened to swallow his heart but nonetheless retrieved the bird from its cage and placed it in Baekhyun’s outstretched palms.

“Father,” asked Baekhyun, “what does he look like?”

“He’s the handsomest songbird I ever did see.”

And the songbird thought Baekhyun was the loveliest human it had ever seen.

Winter melted into spring and Baekhyun and his songbird were inseparable. His father named the bird Chanyeol for its seemingly endless energy and his mother wove a wicker birdcage that always stood empty. In the mornings, Baekhyun could sometimes feel the bird struggling to sing with its brethren in the woods, and when it seemed hopeless, he simply smiled and smoothed the tanager’s ruffled feathers.

“Don’t worry Chanyeol. I’ll sing for the both of us.”

And Chanyeol thought Baekhyun’s voice was more marvelous than that of any songbird.

The idyllic life in the middle of the woods came to an end on a hot summer day. Baekhyun’s father was in the woods, looking for nightingales, when he heard the frantic chirping coming from one of his traps. A magpie had gotten tangled in the twine, its struggling tightening the cord around its neck. He tried to cut the bird loose but by the time his knife sliced through, the bird had stopped singing. In that very moment, a violent wind rushed through the trees, and before Baekhyun’s father stood the Spirit of the Forest.

“Murderer,” she cried, “you killed my daughter!”

“No, no,” said Baekhyun’s father, “I was trying to save her. Please, believe me!”

“Lies,” screeched the Spirit, the winds howling with her anguish, “it was your trap, bird keeper, that took my daughter from me! And for that, you shall pay dearly.”

“Please,” he pleaded, “please forgive me. I didn’t mean to kill her.”

But the Spirit ignored his pleas, “I shall take your son from you, so you can feel the grief I feel.”

“No,” Baekhyun’s father begged, falling to his knees, “anything, you can have anything from me. Just don’t hurt my boy.”

“You have until summer’s end to bid him farewell,” the Spirit said with finality, “a small mercy that you did not allow me. But be warned, he will perish as soon as he sets foot on the ground beyond these woods.”

With that, she left in a gust of wind, leaving Baekhyun’s father sobbing on the mossy forest floor.

However, Baekhyun’s father was a clever man: he knew that the Spirit’s dominion not only ended at the edge of the woods, but also above the tops of the trees. He spent the days tirelessly laying stone upon stone until an ivory tower loomed over the forest. The day before summer’s end, he gathered Baekhyun in his arms and carried him up the spiraling staircase to the room atop the tower.

“Where am I?” Baekhyun asked once his father sat him on the bed by the window.

“A place where no harm can come to you,” answered his father.

“And you and mother?” Baekhyun asked hopefully.

“We cannot stay here,” his father replied sadly, “we’ll come back for you; I promise. In the meantime, Chanyeol will keep you company.”

The tanager hopped from its perch in the wicker cage onto Baekhyun’s shoulder. The boy laughed happily and with one last glance at his beaming son, Baekhyun’s father slipped out of the room. He set the wooden staircase ablaze and filled the ground entrance with the last of his ivory stones. His son was now beyond the reach of the Spirit, but also beyond his own. He strained to hear his boy's sweet voice once more.

“Don’t worry Chanyeol; father will come back for us very soon.”

And Chanyeol hoped, for Baekhyun’s sake, these words would be true.

Summer ended in a vicious thunderstorm, the torrential rains and deafening thunderclaps channeling the Spirit’s anger. But as fall blew in, the weather turned milder and Baekhyun spent the day smiling unseeingly out the window.

“It must be so beautiful right now,” he told the songbird in his hand, “mother always said that autumn is the prettiest season, when all the leaves turn red and gold. Though, I wonder, what do red and gold look like?”

Chanyeol despairingly could not answer but Baekhyun simply brought the tanager to his ear and whispered softly.

“Sometimes I wish I could see, just so I can appreciate all the beauty in this world.”

And Chanyeol looked at Baekhyun’s gentle expression, wishing the boy could see the beauty too.

First snow fell without warning but fortunately Baekhyun’s father had left firewood and enough food to last through the worst of winter’s storms. Chanyeol acted as Baekhyun’s eyes, guiding the boy through the daily tasks of starting a fire and tending it when the flames flicker. In return, Baekhyun recounted tales his mother would tell about the language of flowers.

“My mother’s favorite flower was the alyssum. Did you know, Chanyeol, that the alyssum means worth beyond beauty?”

And Chanyeol thought that the flower suited Baekhyun, who saw not with his eyes but with his heart, perfectly.

The seasons passed but Baekhyun’s father never returned. The food in the tower had long run out and the pile of firewood became naught but a bundle of twigs. Every morning, just as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon, Chanyeol would fly to the base of the tower to pick the edible yellow flowers growing there and Baekhyun would wake up to a lapful of primroses. He would sing praises softly to Chanyeol while the songbird preened at the attention. When Baekhyun settled down for a midday nap, Chanyeol would venture into the woods to gather small branches to store for winter. When Chanyeol returned, Baekhyun would be leaning out the window, arms outstretched and calling Chanyeol’s name.

“I keep reaching out but you’re not there. I was scared that you had left me.”

And Chanyeol would land in Baekhyun’s outstretched palms, so the boy knew that his songbird would always be within reach.

The next spring, Chanyeol shed the dreary colors of adolescence and donned the bright red coat of a matured scarlet tanager. Naturally, Baekhyun did not notice the change, but the female tanagers certainly did. The window ledge became crowded with songbirds chirping a tune that Chanyeol could not return. Baekhyun laughed delightedly at the new company.

“My, my, you have a lot of admirers there, Chanyeol,” he teased and Chanyeol puffed his feathers irately, “don’t be shy. Go say hello.”

Because Chanyeol could not answer the calls, Baekhyun sang in his songbird’s stead. His melodious voice floated through the forest, drawing in twice as many love-struck tanagers as before. The tower filled with chattering voices, each singing a different love song; it wasn’t until night fell that Baekhyun could murmur softly to the coveted scarlet tanager.

“I know one day you’ll find the perfect girl and fly away from here. I’ll try my best to be happy for you then. But for now, let me be selfish and pretend that I can keep you forever.”

And Chanyeol felt the dampness on the pillow and knew that Baekhyun did not understand at all.

The next morning, Chanyeol flew beyond the forest and did not return until the sun had sunk beneath the horizon. Unfailingly, Baekhyun was leaning out the window, with outstretched hands and frantic, unseeing eyes. Chanyeol dropped a sprig of white flowers in the boy’s open palms and landed gently on his shoulder. Baekhyun ran his fingers delicately through the blossoms and smiled heartbreakingly.

“Oh Chanyeol. This is a branch from an arbutus tree.”

And Chanyeol knew that Baekhyun finally understood.

Thee only do I love.

Spring passed quickly enough, and so did the summer that followed. The seasons blurred into one another as Baekhyun grew into a striking young man and Chanyeol aged into weary old bones. Chanyeol could no longer fly to the forest to gather wood for the fire but every morning, Baekhyun would still wake up to a lapful of primrose. He would smile at his old songbird and chastise it for overexerting itself. One day, he pressed a green branch to Chanyeol’s frail chest.

“These are cedar leaves, Chanyeol. Remember what they mean?”

And Chanyeol did remember, panicking at the realization because Baekhyun had all but said I live for thee.

The winter was harsh but nonetheless Chanyeol braved the winds to seek out the Spirit of the Forest. Baekhyun had woken up one morning to find his songbird unmoving on its perch; he had cried until Chanyeol stirred into consciousness. From that moment forth, the boy lived in constant fear that Death will whisk his only companion away, never realizing that he himself was fading into nothingness. In the end, Chanyeol could not bear to watch the beautiful boy drown in his sorrows any longer.

The Spirit of the Forest knew that Chanyeol was coming. She had been watching the boy the bird keeper had kept from her and she had already a cunning plan to snatch him from his tower. She knew the wish Chanyeol would ask of her and she would be all too happy to grant it. When the scarlet tanager arrived, she smiled benignly.

“Dear little songbird,” she acknowledged, “you have come to ask me to make you human so you can live together with the boy in the tower.”

Chanyeol nodded mutely.

“I have forgotten that you haven’t a voice,” the Spirit said, pitying, “no matter. You need only to hop into my hands to become human. But heed my warning: once human, you can never become a songbird again.”

Without hesitation, Chanyeol bound into the Spirit’s cupped hands. He felt an overwhelming sensation of warmth as plumage shrunk into richly colored velvets, downy feathers became soft auburn hair, and Chanyeol the scarlet tanager transformed into a stunningly handsome young man.

“Remember,” the Spirit warned, “you can never become a songbird again.”

Chanyeol could not imagine why he would ever want to be a bird again, now that he could finally be with his lovely Baekhyun. He nodded to the Spirit in gratitude and began his trek back to the ivory tower. It wasn’t until he reached the foot of the stone monument that he realized he had no way to reach his beloved. He opened his mouth to call for Baekhyun but found that, bird or boy, he had no voice. Desperate, Chanyeol tried to scale the tower but his gangly new limbs would not do as he bid and he crumpled to the ground.

Morning broke and Chanyeol could hear Baekhyun’s hysterical cries and the sound of furniture toppling in the boy’s frantic search for his songbird. He willed his voice to sound, if only to stop the sound of Baekhyun’s broken one, but his efforts proved fruitless. Helpless, he could only weep silently at the base of the tower, knowing that he would give anything to be a songbird again.

The Spirit of the Forest, who had been watching from the beneath the trees, grinned delightedly. Since the bird keeper had locked his boy away in the tower, she had been waiting for someone – someone who loved the boy unconditionally. For, from her grove, she had procured the seed of an enchanted sycamore tree that will grow until it dwarfed the ivory tower, but ancient magic decreed that a sycamore would only flourish for faithful love. So she bided her time.

Emerging from the woods, she draped a comforting arm around Chanyeol’s hunched form, “I cannot turn you back into a bird, but I can help you reach the bird keeper’s child. When spring arrives, plant this seed by the foot of the tower. The tree will grow tall so you can once again reach the window of your beloved boy.”

So Chanyeol waited for winter to once again melt into spring; every day, he would hear Baekhyun call out his name brokenly then break down into inconsolable tears. Just when he thought his heart would break from Baekhyun’s anguish, the first yellow primrose peeked out through the snow. Shakily, Chanyeol dug a shallow hole in which he buried the enchanted seed. Day faded into night as he watched the sapling draw up into a majestic tree. Finally, the tip of a sycamore branch brushed against the tower window and Chanyeol began to climb the tree with a pocket full of primrose for his sweet Baekhyun.

It took Chanyeol an entire day to reach the branch which extended to Baekhyun’s window. Sitting himself on the branch, he smiled; his lovely, wonderful Baekhyun was finally within reach. Mustering his strength, Chanyeol continued to inch forward, despite the thinning branch, until his fingers brushed the ledge of the window. Giddily, he emptied the primroses onto the sill, weaving them into a crown.

As he tucked the last primrose into the completed ring, the branch gave in under his weight.

Startled by a loud rustling noise, Baekhyun leaned out the window. His hand brushed against the soft petals of a familiar flower. Grasping blindly, he found purchase of the circlet and held it close, grateful tears pooling at the corners of his sightless eyes. His songbird had returned; he was sure of it.

Laying the primrose crown in his lap, he leaned out the window again with hands outstretched, calling for his beautiful scarlet tanager. Oh, if only he could reach further. And further.

And further.

Over the hills, where the tall sycamore tree grows,

Lies a boy and his bird, in a bed of primrose.