The Rupa Book of Love Stories & Favourite Fairy Tales (2 in 1)

by Ruskin Bond

  Then the bird spoke and told her the story of Ta-Khai's dream, adding: 'I come from him with this message; I brought him here on my wings. For many days he has longed for this hour, let him now behold the image of his dream and heal the wound in his heart.'

  Swift and overpowering is the rush of the waves on the pebbles of the shore, and like a little pebble felt Sai-Jen when Ta-Khai stood before her.

  The Feng-Hwang illuminated the garden sumptuously, and a breath of love was stirring the flowers under the stars.

  It was in the palace of the King of China that were celebrated in the most ancient and magnificent style the nuptials of Sai-Jen and Ta-Khai, Prince of Tartary.

  And this is one of the three hundred and thirty-three stories about the bird Feng as it is told in the Book of the Ten Thousand Wonders.

  THE BLUE BOY OF THE POOL

  A Tale from Old China

  In the days when the great Ta Ti was Emperor of China,1 a herbalist named Wang Shuh went up a mountain to search for herbs. The season was midsummer, and the sun shone brightly from an unclouded sky. Wang Shuh followed the course of a little stream which here and there formed noisy waterfalls, under which were deep pools, and here and there ran very smoothly along the green level ridges of the great hill. Although there were many herbs on the banks of the stream, the particular herb that Wang Shuh searched for was very rare and difficult to find. He had to walk a great distance, stooping most of the time; and when the sun rose right overhead at noon, he felt so hot and weary that he lay down to rest on a green and shady knoll at the foot of a pretty waterfall. The spray was flung through the air like thin rain and drenched the leaves of overhanging trees, and left many a pearly drop on the petals of brightly-coloured wild flowers. As Wang sat eating a meal of cooked rice that he had brought with him, he bared his head and enjoyed the coolness of the drops of water which fell upon his face and forehead.

  Having eaten his meal, he stretched himself at full length, and, leaning his head on his hand, gazed into the waters of the deep pool below the waterfall, watching the little coloured fish darting to and fro. As he gazed, he was greatly astonished to see a little blue boy peering round a grey stone in the depths of the pool. The boy was no more than a foot in height. His face and hands were of lighter blue than his clothing, and his eyes sparkled like pearls and flashed many colours. After peering round about for a few seconds, the little boy vanished, and Wang Shuh began to rub his eyes, wondering if he had been dreaming. When he looked into the pool again, however, he saw that the blue boy had come out from his hiding-place. He was riding on the back of a red carp, and held a blue rush in his right hand. Three times the carp darted round the pool among the other fishes, which, strange to tell, showed no signs of alarm. Then it rose to the surface, where the sunrays that broke through the network of leaves and branches overhead sparkled like diamonds on the clear rippling water. The little boy turned the carp this way and that, and when the sunshine fell on him his body sparkled like a sapphire, while every scale of the carp shone as brightly as fire. Wang Shuh gazed with eyes of wonder until the carp rose in the air. Then he began to be afraid, and crept backward into a bush to hide himself. But the little blue boy never came near him. He turned the red carp towards the east, and rose speedily through the air, until he looked no bigger than a bee in flight. At length the carp and its rider vanished from sight, having entered a cloud that came creeping across the blue sky.

  Wang Shuh rose up and climbed to the top of the mountain, so as to search for the herbs he sought at the little well from which the stream flows. When he reached the edge of the wood through which he walked, not far from the mountain top, he looked around him, and saw to his surprise that great masses of dark and yellow clouds were rising over the sea. A great thunderstorm was gathering in the east, and the herbalist then realised that the little blue boy he had seen riding on the back of the red carp was the thunder dragon. As he gazed on the writhing clouds he caught sight of the monster, which had increased its size and turned quite black.

  'Alas, alas!" he cried. 'What shall I do? I have gazed on the black Kiao in the shape of a blue boy riding on a red carp. It is an evil omen, and I shall certainly perish.'

  Suddenly the thunder voice of the dragon was heard coming over the sea. Its great head was thrust out from the clouds that hid it, and the herbalist caught a glimpse of its fiery tongue as it spit out the wriggling lightning.

  Greatly terrified, he ran towards a hollow tree and hid himself in it. Crouching low, he shut his eyes and stopped his ears with his fingers, so that he might not see the lightning nor be deafened by the roaring voice of the black dragon. How long he remained there he could not tell. The moments dragged slowly past, and every moment the dragon seemed to be coming nearer and nearer, as if searching for the man who had gazed upon him in his form of a blue boy riding a red carp.

  Rain came down in heavy drops and drenched the earth. The little mountain stream began to flood, and lashed itself in fury. Wang Shuh could hear its waterfalls roaring between the loud peals of thunder that shook the mountain and made the hollow tree tremble and shrink, as if it shared the terror of the man it concealed.

  At length the rain ceased to fall, and silence fell on the world. Wang Shuh opened his eyes and peered through a fissure of the tree towards the east. He saw with joy that the sky had cleared again, and that the sun was shining brightly across the sea. Thankful that he was still alive, he crept out of his hiding-place and began to descend the mountain, following the course of the stream. When he reached the little waterfall below which he had rested and eaten his meal, he paused for a moment, because the sound of sweet music fell on his ears. It was sweeter than the song of birds, but faint as the humming of insects. He peered through the leaves towards the pool. As he did so he saw the little blue boy returning through the air on the back of the red carp. He stood frozen with fear and unable to move. The dragon in its comely shape descended towards the pool, skimmed round the surface, and vanished. Then Wang Shuh was no longer afraid. He ran towards the pool and gazed into it, but saw nothing. He noticed, however, that one of the herbs he searched for had grown on the edge of the pool. Leaning forward, he plucked it, and then, turning round, ran down the mountain-side. Nor did he pause until he reached the village, where he told his friends what he had seen.

  It chanced at this time that the daughter of the emperor, a beautiful princess dearly loved by her father, was lying ill in the royal palace. In vain the physicians of the Court endeavoured to-heal her, by mixing herbs with the dust of dragon bones that had been found among the mountains. Hearing of Wang Shuh's adventure, the emperor sent for him. When the herbalist reached the palace, His Majesty spoke, saying: 'Is it true, as men tell, that you have seen the black Kiao in the form of a little blue boy riding a red carp?'

  Wang Shuh made answer: 'It is indeed so, Your Majesty.'

  'And is it true that you have found the dragon herb, that grew during the thunderstorm?'

  'I have brought the herb with me,' Wang Shuh answered.

  Said the emperor: 'Mayhap it will cure my daughter of her sickness.'

  'I pray you to accept the herb from me,' Wang Shuh then said. His Majesty led the herbalist to the room in which the princess lay, and Wang Shuh took a leaf from the herb, which had a sweet odour, and gave it to her to smell. As soon as the princess smelt it, she smiled and her eyes grew bright. This was taken as a good omen. Wang Shuh then made a medicine from the herb, and after the princess had partaken of it she grew well and strong again.

  The emperor's heart was filled with joy, and he appointed Wang Shuh his chief physician. Thus the herbalist became a great man. He had cause to bless the day when he gazed upon the little blue boy riding the red carp in the pool below the waterfall of the little mountain stream. To few mortals falls the good fortune of gazing on a dragon in any form, and to fewer mortals is the vision followed by good fortune.

  1A monarch of the Wu Dynasty, AD 228-31.

  THE MAORI FAIRY FISHER
MEN

  A Tale from New Zealand

  There are fairies in New Zealand, and the Maoris call them Patu-Paiarehe. They have fair hair and white skins, and live among the hills, where they have secret dwellings. All day long they hide from human beings, but when darkness falls they come out to search for food. They often hold meetings in lonely places, at which they feast, and afterwards dance and sing merrily. These fairies are very clever, and the Maoris used to learn many things from them.

  Like fairies elsewhere, they are said to steal babies and leave little fairy children, called changelings, in their places. The Maoris believe that the white-haired albinos among them are changelings, and that the fairies are so fond of them that they teach them some of their arts. It is said that the Maoris learned the art of making fishing-nets from their fairies. The Maori who made the first fishing-net was an albino named Kahoo-Koora. He lived a long time ago, and the story told about him is as follows:

  One day when Kahoo-Koora was walking along a lonely part of the beach, at some distance from his native village, he saw large numbers of heads and tails of mackerel lying in heaps on the sand. He wondered who had caught so many fish, and looked about for the footprints of the fishermen, so that he might know to what tribe they belonged; but, much to his Surprise, he could not see a single one. Then he knew that the fishers were fairies. He examined the heads and tails of the mackerel, and came to know that the fairies had been fishing during the night. Said he to himself: 'They could not have caught all these fish with hooks. They must have used nets. If we knew how to make nets, we should be able to catch as many fish as the fairies.'

  Kahoo-Koora walked slowly towards his home, thinking over what he had seen; and, after a time, he made up his mind to watch the fairies catching fish, and, if possible, to obtain their net, so that he might find out how it was made. He told his wife about the matter, and she said: 'It is a dangerous thing to spy upon the fairies. They might kill you if they discovered you.'

  Said Kahoo-Koora: 'I shall be very careful. There is no moon tonight, and the fairies will not be able to see that I am a human being.'

  When the sun had set, Kahoo-Koora set out to visit the part of the beach where the fairies were accustomed to catch mackerel. He reached the place just as the fairies arrived from the hills, and he had no time to hide himself. They ran up and down the beach calling out to one another, and when one of them spoke to Kahoo-Koora, saying: 'Why are you not helping?' he realised that he was regarded as one of themselves. He did not, therefore, feel afraid.

  A shoal of mackerel came close to the shore, and the fairies got busy at once. A canoe went out to drop the net into the water round the shoal, and then those who stood on the shore began to haul it in. As the fairy fishers worked the net, they kept singing:

  The net here, the net there,

  Haul the net and do your share;

  Drop the net into the sea,

  Haul the net right merrily.

  When the net was hauled ashore, large quantities of mackerel were thrown on the beach. Kahoo-Koora did his share of the work. The fairies never dreamed that he was a human being, because Kahoo-Koora was an albino, and all fairies have white skin and fair hair.

  The dawn was near at hand, and the fairies had to work very hard to gather up their catch, because they had to return to their dwellings, among the mountains, as soon as the sun rose above the horizon.

  Kahoo-Koora noticed that the fairies did not divide the fish into equal lots, as do human fishers. Each one collected as many fish as he could, and, having gutted them, strung them together. As they collected the catch, each one taking as many mackerel as he could carry away, the fairies kept singing:

  String the fish and haste away,

  All of you, ere break of day.

  Now Kahoo-Koora was in no hurry to leave the beach before sunrise. It was his desire to delay the fairies, so that he might lay hands on their net. He made a slip-knot on the string, and each time he lifted up his share of the mackerel, the knot slipped, and the fish fell in a heap on the sand. Then he began to collect them again. Time and again the fairies left their own work to help him to string the fish. They knotted the string securely for their human companion, but each time Kahoo-Koora unfastened the knot, so that the fish might slip off as he lifted them up. He thus delayed the departure of the fairies, who grew very excited as they sang:

  String the fish and haste away,

  All of you, ere break of day.

  Kahoo-Koora wanted to get the fairy net for himself, and that was why he kept playing tricks with the fish. He was just putting off time, so that the fairies would not be able to leave the shore before daybreak. So well did he act his part, that at length the sun began to rise, when two fairies began for the twentieth time to string his fish for him.

  In the growing light the fairies then saw that Kahoo-Koora was not one of themselves, but a human being of the fairy race. They cried out with alarm, because they could not punish him in the daylight, for the sun blinded their eyes and made them feel afraid. They called one to another:

  Haste you! haste as fast as you can!—

  He's not a fairy, but a man.

  Throwing away their fish, and leaving their boat and net on the shore, all the fairies ran towards the hills to hide themselves. The sun rose brightly, and Kahoo-Koora was left alone on the beach. He looked around, and, being well pleased with himself for having tricked the clever fairies, he laughed long and loudly.

  Then he examined the fairy boat, and found that it had been made of flax. It was so light that he could lift it with one hand and carry it under his arm. Then he picked up the net and spread it out on a smooth bank of sand. It had been made of rushes, and was so frail that he knew it could not be used again. He did not care whether it could be used or not, however. All he wanted to know was how it had been made. He sat down and studied it closely, and when he had done so he took a long piece of cord and began to make a net for himself. In this way he learned the art of net-making, using the fairy net as a pattern.

  Kahoo-Koora was well pleased with himself, and, rolling up the fairy net and the net he had made himself, he went home and hid both nets in his house. Then he told some of his friends that a large quantity of newly-caught fish was lying on the beach, where the fairies were wont to throw their catches. They went with him to the spot, and divided the fish between them.

  Kahoo-Koora afterwards made two or three large nets, and taught the fishermen how to use them. The Maoris could then catch fish in big quantities like the fairies.

  Kahoo-Koora never needed to catch fish for himself. He was kept busy making nets, and men came from distant villages to buy them. He was asked for so many nets that he had to teach his children how to make them.

  For the rest of his life Kahoo-Koora was called the 'Netmaker'. When he grew old he gave the airy net to his eldest son, who kept it as a pattern. Kahoo-Koora's descendants were famous net-makers for many generations, and the story of how the first net was made was handed down from father to son.

  Times have changed in New Zealand, but the Maori mothers still tell their children many stories about the white fairies who dwell among the hills, and of the wonderful things they used to do in the great days of old.

  THE DANCE OF THE GOBLINS

  A Tale of Old Japan

  In a village in old Japan there once lived two beggars, who were nicknamed Hojo and Tametomo. They were unable to do any work, because they had big lumps on their necks. Hojo was liked best, because he was always cheerful and full of fun. Tametomo was bad-tempered and quarrelsome. The children used to shout names at Tametomo, and he chased them and flung stones at them.

  One day Hojo went into a forest on a mountainside, near Tokio, to gather firewood. Rain began to fall heavily, and he crept into the hollow trunk of an old tree to shelter himself. Several hours went past and still the rain came down, and Hojo, feeling weary, crouched low and fell asleep. He slept until after sunset, and when he awoke he found that the rain had ceased to
fall, and the moon was shining clearly in a cloudless sky. He shivered as he rose up, partly because he was cold and partly because he was afraid of being alone in the forest in the night-time. He peered out of the hollow of the tree, and as he did so he heard the sound of sweet music, and, looking in the direction whence the sounds came, he saw a little company of goblins dancing merrily in an open space. The music was so sweet, and the goblins seemed so happy, that he forgot to be afraid.

  Hojo watched them for a long time, and as they danced he danced too. After a time they all sat down in a ring and sang together. Then one after another the goblins began to dance in competition. Up got a little old goblin and tripped lightly in the middle of the ring. Then he sat down, and the others clapped their hands with delight. A young goblin rose next and danced merrily, whirling round about and leaping into the air. He was followed by another and another. The fun grew fast and furious, and the music grew louder and merrier. At length Hojo could no longer contain himself. He wanted to dance like the goblins, and the space inside the tree trunk was too small for him. With a merry shout he ran towards the goblins, entered the ring, and began to dance in competition with the others who had displayed their skill. The goblins sat watching him with twinkling eyes. Hojo was so much delighted with the music that he danced as he had never danced before, leaping and whirling and tripping merrily, and now and again shouting with joy. The goblins were well pleased with him, and when he lost his breath, and sank down panting on the grass, they all rose up and danced round him, singing,

  Hojo the dancer

  Dances like a goblin;

  A merry one is Hojo,

  And we shall reward him.

  When Hojo rose up, the goblins became silent, and at first he was afraid of them; but the chief of the spirits spoke to him, saying: 'You have danced well, and we are all delighted with you. What reward do you ask for?'