The Dragon Megapack

by Wildside Press

  He found there a Princess who lived with the Dragon all alone; and she said,—

  “But, dear friend, how can Christian folk dare to come hither? None have been here since I came, and you’d best be off as fast as you can; for as soon as the Dragon comes home he’ll smell you out, and gobble you up in a trice, and that’ll make me so unhappy.”

  “Nay, nay!” said the lad; “I can’t go before I’ve got three feathers out of his tail”

  “You’ll never get them,” said the Princess; “you’d best be off.”

  But the lad wouldn’t go; he would wait for the Dragon, and get the feathers, and an answer to all his questions.

  “Well, since you’re so steadfast I’ll see what I can do to help you,” said the Princess; “just try to lift that sword that hangs on the wall yonder.”

  the lad could not even stir it.

  “I thought so,” said the Princess; “but just take a drink out of this flask.”

  So when the lad had sat a while, he was to try again; and then he could just stir it.

  “Well! you must take another drink,” said the Princess, “and then you may as well tell me your errand hither.”

  So he took another drink, and then he told her how one king had begged him to ask the Dragon how it was he couldn’t get clear water in his well?—how another had bidden him ask what had become of his daughter, who had been lost many years since?—and how a queen had begged him to ask the Dragon what had become of her gold keys?—and, last of all, how the ferryman had begged him to ask the Dragon how long he was to stop there and carry folk over? When he had done his story, and took hold of the sword, he could lift it; and when he had taken another drink, he could brandish it.

  “Now,” said the Princess, “if you don’t want the Dragon to make an end of you you’d best creep under the bed, for night is drawing on, and he’ll soon be home, and then you must lie as still as you can lest he should find you out. And when we have gone to bed, I’ll ask him, but you must keep your ears open, and snap up all that he says; and under the bed you must lie till all is still and the Dragon falls asleep; then creep out softly and seize the sword, and as soon as he rises, look out to hew off his head at one stroke, and at the same time pluck out the three feathers, for else he’ll tear them out himself, that no one may get any good by them.”

  So the lad crept under the bed, and the Dragon came home.

  “What a smell of Christian flesh,” said the Dragon. “Oh yes,” said the Princess, “a raven came flying with a man’s bone in his bill, and perched on the roof. No doubt it’s that you smell.”

  “So it is, I daresay,” said the Dragon.

  So the Princess served supper; and after they had eaten, they went to bed. But after they had lain a while, the Princess began to toss about, and all at once she started up and said,—

  “Ah! ah!”

  “What’s the matter?” said the Dragon.

  “Oh,” said the Princess, “I can’t rest at all, and I’ve had such a strange dream.”

  “What did you dream about? Let’s hear?” said the Dragon.

  “I thought a king came here, and asked you what he must do to get clear water in his well.”

  “Oh,” said the Dragon, “he might just as well have found that out for himself. If he dug the well out, and took out the old rotten stump which lies at the bottom, he’d get clear water fast enough. But be still now, and don’t dream any more.”

  When the Princess had lain a while, she began to toss about, and at last she started up with her

  “Ah! ah!”

  “What’s the matter now?” said the Dragon.

  “Oh! I can’t get any rest at all. and I’ve had such a strange dream,” said the Princess.

  “Why, you seem full of dreams to-night,” said the Dragon: “what was your dream now I”

  “I thought a king came here, and asked you what had become of his daughter who had been lost many years since,” said the Princess.

  “Why, you are she,” said the Dragon; “but he’ll never set eyes on you again. But now, do pray be still, and let me get some rest, and don’t let’s have any more dreams, else I’ll break your ribs.”

  Well, the Princess hadn’t lain much longer before she began to toss about again. At last she started up with her

  “Ah! ah!”

  “What! Are you at it again?” said the Dragon. “What’s the matter now?” for he was wild and sleep-surly, so that he was ready to fly to pieces.

  “Oh, don’t be angry,” said the Princess; “but I’ve had such a strange dream.”

  “The deuce take your dreams,” roared the Dragon; “what did you dream this time?”

  “I thought a queen came here, who asked you to tell her where she would find her gold keys, which she has lost”

  “Oh,” said the Dragon, “she’ll find them soon enough if she looks among the bushes where she lay that time she wots of. But do now let me have no more dreams, but sleep in peace.”

  So they slept a while; but then the Princess was just as restless as ever, and at last she screamed out—

  “Ah! ah!”

  “You’ll never behave till I break your neck,” said the Dragon, who was now so wroth that sparks of fire flew out of his eyes. “What’s the matter now?”

  “Oh, don’t be so angry,” said the Princess; “I can’t bear that; but I’ve had such a strange dream.”

  “Bless me!” said the Dragon; “if I ever heard the like of these dreams—there’s no end to them. And pray, what did you dream now?”

  “I thought the ferryman down at the ferry came and asked how long he was to stop there and carry folk over,” said the Princess.

  “The dull fool!” said the Dragon; “he’d soon be free if he chose. When any one comes who wants to go across he has only to take and throw him into the river, and say, ‘Now, carry folk over yourself till some one sets you free.’ But now, pray let’s have an end of these dreams, else I’ll lead you a pretty dance.”

  So the Princess let him sleep on. But as soon as all was still, and the miller’s lad heard that the Dragon snored, he crept out. Before it was light the Dragon rose; but he had scarce set both his feet on the floor before the lad cut off his head, and plucked three feathers out of his tail Then came great joy, and both the lad and the Princess took as much gold, and silver, and money, and precious things as they could carry; and when they came down to the ford, they so puzzled the ferryman with all they had to tell, that he quite forgot to ask what the Dragon had said about him till they had got across.

  “Halloa, you sir,” he said, as they were going off, “did you ask the Dragon what I begged you to ask?”

  “Yes, I did,” said the lad, “and he said, ‘When any one comes and wants to go over, you must throw him into the midst of the river, and say “Now, carry folk over yourself till some one comes to set you free,” and then you’ll be free.’”

  “Ah, bad luck to you,” said the ferryman; “had you told me that before you might have set me free yourself.”

  So when they got to the first palace, the Queen asked if he had spoken to the Dragon about her gold keys.

  “Yes,” said the lad, and whispered in the Queen’s ear; “he said you must look among the bushes where you lay the day you wot of.”

  “Hush! hush! don’t say a word,” said the Queen, and gave the lad a hundred dollars.

  When they came to the second palace the King asked if he had spoken to the Dragon of what he begged him, “Yes,” said the lad, “I did; and see, here is your daughter.”

  At that the King was so glad he would gladly have given the Princess to the miller’s lad to wife, and half the kingdom beside; but as he was married already he gave him two hundred dollars, and coaches and horses, and as much gold and silver as he could carry away.

  When he came to the third King’s palace, out came the King and asked if he had asked the Dragon of what he begged him.

  “Yes,” said the lad, “and he said you must dig out the well
, and take out the rotten old stump which lies at the bottom, and then you’ll get plenty of clear water.”

  Then the King gave him three hundred dollars, and he set out home; but he was so loaded with gold and silver, and so grandly clothed, that it gleamed and glistened from him, and he was now far richer than Peter the Pedlar.

  When Peter got the feathers he hadn’t a word more to say against the wedding; but when he saw all that wealth, he asked if there was much still left at the Dragon’s castle.

  “Yes, I should think so,” said the lad; “there was much more than I could carry with me—so much, that you might load many horses with it; and if you choose to go you may be sure there’ll be enough for you.”

  So his son-in-law told him the way so clearly that he hadn’t to ask it of any one.

  “But the horses,” said the lad, “you’d best leave this side the river; for the old ferryman, he’ll carry you over safe enough.”

  So Peter set off, and took with him great store of food, and many horses; but these he left behind bim on the river’s brink, as the lad had said. And the old ferryman took him upon his back; but when they had come a bit out into the stream he cast him into the midst of the river, and said—

  “Now you may go backwards and forwards here, and carry folk over till you are set free.”

  And unless some one has set him free, there goes Rich Peter the Pedlar backwards and forwards, and carries folk across this very day.

  THE TWO BROTHERS, by The Brothers Grimm

  There were once upon a time two brothers, one rich and the other poor. The rich one was a goldsmith and evil-hearted. The poor one supported himself by making brooms, and was good and honourable. The poor one had two children, who were twin brothers and as like each other as two drops of water. The two boys went backwards and forwards to the rich house, and often got some of the scraps to eat. It happened once when the poor man was going into the forest to fetch brush-wood, that he saw a bird which was quite golden and more beautiful than any he had ever chanced to meet with. He picked up a small stone, threw it at him, and was lucky enough to hit him, but one golden feather only fell down, and the bird flew away. The man took the feather and carried it to his brother, who looked at it and said, “It is pure gold!” and gave him a great deal of money for it. Next day the man climbed into a birch-tree, and was about to cut off a couple of branches when the same bird flew out, and when the man searched he found a nest, and an egg lay inside it, which was of gold. He took the egg home with him, and carried it to his brother, who again said, “It is pure gold,” and gave him what it was worth. At last the goldsmith said, “I should indeed like to have the bird itself.” The poor man went into the forest for the third time, and again saw the golden bird sitting on the tree, so he took a stone and brought it down and carried it to his brother, who gave him a great heap of gold for it. “Now I can get on,” thought he, and went contentedly home.

  The goldsmith was crafty and cunning, and knew very well what kind of a bird it was. He called his wife and said, “Roast me the gold bird, and take care that none of it is lost. I have a fancy to eat it all myself.” The bird, however, was no common one, but of so wondrous a kind that whosoever ate its heart and liver found every morning a piece of gold beneath his pillow. The woman made the bird ready, put it on the spit, and let it roast. Now it happened that while it was at the fire, and the woman was forced to go out of the kitchen on account of some other work, the two children of the poor broom-maker ran in, stood by the spit and turned it round once or twice. And as at that very moment two little bits of the bird fell down into the dripping-tin, one of the boys said, “We will eat these two little bits; I am so hungry, and no one will ever miss them.”

  Then the two ate the pieces, but the woman came into the kitchen and saw that they were eating something and said, “What have ye been eating?”

  “Two little morsels which fell out of the bird,” answered they.

  “That must have been the heart and the liver,” said the woman, quite frightened, and in order that her husband might not miss them and be angry, she quickly killed a young cock, took out his heart and liver, and put them beside the golden bird. When it was ready, she carried it to the goldsmith, who consumed it all alone, and left none of it. Next morning, however, when he felt beneath his pillow, and expected to bring out the piece of gold, no more gold pieces were there than there had always been.

  The two children did not know what a piece of good-fortune had fallen to their lot. Next morning when they arose, something fell rattling to the ground, and when they picked it up there were two gold pieces! They took them to their father, who was astonished and said, “How can that have happened?”

  When next morning they again found two, and so on daily, he went to his brother and told him the strange story. The goldsmith at once knew how it had come to pass, and that the children had eaten the heart and liver of the golden bird, and in order to revenge himself, and because he was envious and hard-hearted, he said to the father, “Thy children are in league with the Evil One, do not take the gold, and do not suffer them to stay any longer in thy house, for he has them in his power, and may ruin thee likewise.”

  The father feared the Evil One, and painful as it was to him, he nevertheless led the twins forth into the forest, and with a sad heart left them there. And now the two children ran about the forest, and sought the way home again, but could not find it, and only lost themselves more and more.

  At length they met with a huntsman, who asked, “To whom do you children belong?”

  “We are the poor broom-maker’s boys,” they replied, and they told him that their father would not keep them any longer in the house because a piece of gold lay every morning under their pillows.

  “Come,” said the huntsman, “that is nothing so very bad, if at the same time you keep honest, and are not idle.”

  As the good man liked the children, and had none of his own, he took them home with him and said, “I will be your father, and bring you up till you are big.”

  They learnt huntsmanship from him, and the piece of gold which each of them found when he awoke, was kept for them by him in case they should need it in the future.

  When they were grown up, their foster-father one day took them into the forest with him, and said, “To-day shall you make your trial shot, so that I may release you from your apprenticeship, and make you huntsmen.”

  They went with him to lie in wait and stayed there a long time, but no game appeared. The huntsman, however, looked above him and saw a covey of wild geese flying in the form of a triangle, and said to one of them, “Shoot me down one from each corner.”

  He did it, and thus accomplished his trial shot. Soon after another covey came flying by in the form of the figure two, and the huntsman bade the other also bring down one from each corner, and his trial shot was likewise successful.

  “Now,” said the foster-father, “I pronounce you out of your apprenticeship; you are skilled huntsmen.”

  Thereupon the two brothers went forth together into the forest, and took counsel with each other and planned something. And in the evening when they had sat down to supper, they said to their foster-father, “We will not touch food, or take one mouthful, until you have granted us a request.”

  Said he, “What, then, is your request?”

  They replied, “We have now finished learning, and we must prove ourselves in the world, so allow us to go away and travel.”

  Then spake the old man joyfully, “You talk like brave huntsmen, that which you desire has been my wish; go forth, all will go well with you.”

  Thereupon they ate and drank joyously together.

  When the appointed day came, their foster-father presented each of them with a good gun and a dog, and let each of them take as many of his saved-up gold pieces as he chose. Then he accompanied them a part of the way, and when taking leave, he gave them a bright knife, and said, “If ever you separate, stick this knife into a tree at the place where you part,
and when one of you goes back, he will will be able to see how his absent brother is faring, for the side of the knife which is turned in the direction by which he went, will rust if he dies, but will remain bright as long as he is alive.”

  The two brothers went still farther onwards, and came to a forest which was so large that it was impossible for them to get out of it in one day. So they passed the night in it, and ate what they had put in their hunting-pouches, but they walked all the second day likewise, and still did not get out. As they had nothing to eat, one of them said, “We must shoot something for ourselves or we shall suffer from hunger,” and loaded his gun, and looked about him. And when an old hare came running up towards them, he laid his gun on his shoulder, but the hare cried,

  “Dear huntsman, do but let me live,

  Two little ones to thee I’ll give,”

  and sprang instantly into the thicket, and brought two young ones. But the little creatures played so merrily, and were so pretty, that the huntsmen could not find it in their hearts to kill them. They therefore kept them with them, and the little hares followed on foot. Soon after this, a fox crept past; they were just going to shoot it, but the fox cried,

  “Dear hunstman, do but let me live,

  Two little ones I’ll also give.”

  He, too, brought two little foxes, and the huntsmen did not like to kill them either, but gave them to the hares for company, and they followed behind.

  It was not long before a wolf strode out of the thicket. The huntsmen made ready to shoot him, but the wolf cried,

  “Dear huntsman, do but let me live,

  Two little ones I’ll likewise give.”

  The huntsmen put the two wolves beside the other animals, and they followed behind them. Then a bear came who wanted to trot about a little longer, and cried:

  “Dear huntsman, do but let me live,

  Two little ones I, too, will give.”

  The two young bears were added to the others, and there were already eight of them. At length who came? A lion came, and tossed his mane. But the huntsmen did not let themselves be frightened and aimed at him likewise, but the lion also said,