Faery Tales
Page 4
The woman was annoyed at this, but she said, ‘Ja, when he gets back from school.’ And when she looked out of the window and saw the boy coming, the devil tightened his hold on her, and she snatched the apple from her daughter.
‘No apples until Brother is here,’ she said and she threw the apple into the chest and shut the lid.
The little boy came in and the devil made her be friendly to him and say, ‘Would you like a nice apple, mein liebling?’ But she gave him a murderous look.
‘Mutter,’ said the boy, ‘how fierce you look! Yes please, I would like an apple.’
Then something made her entice him.
‘Come here, come here,’ she coaxed, as she lifted the lid. ‘Choose an apple for yourself.’
And as the boy bent over the chest, the devil possessed her, and – bang! – she slammed down the lid so hard that his little head flew off and rolled among the apples. The woman went cold with fear and thought, ‘How will I get away with this?’ She flew up to her room, rushed to her dresser and yanked out a white neckerchief. She balanced the boy’s head back on his neck and tied the neckerchief around his throat so that nothing could be seen. Then she propped him in a chair in front of the door and twisted an apple into his hand.
A little while later, little Marlene came into the scullery and tugged at her mother, who was stirring, stirring, stirring a pot of boiling water in front of the fire.
‘Mutter,’ said Marlene, ‘Brother is sitting by the door and he has turned very pale. He’s got an apple in his hand, but when I asked him to give me the apple he wouldn’t reply, and now I’m frightened!’
‘Go back to him,’ said the woman, ‘and if he still won’t answer you, give him a good clout on the ear.’
Little Marlene went back to him and said, ‘Brother, give me the apple.’
But he said nothing. Nothing. So she fetched him a thump on the ear and his head fell off. The little girl was so terrrified that she began to weep and wail. Then she ran to her Mother and said, ‘Oh, Mutter, I’ve knocked my brother’s head off.’ And she cried and cried and could not be comforted.
‘Oh, Marlene,’ said the woman, ‘what have you done! You’d better keep quiet about this. No one must ever know. And anyway, there’s precious little we can do about it now. We’d best make a stew out of him.’
So the mother got the little boy and chopped him into pieces. Then she tossed them into a pot and let them simmer and steam and stew. Marlene stood close by, sobbing, and her tears splashed onto the stew so it did not need any salt.
When the father came home from work, he sat down at the table and asked, ‘Where is my son?’
The woman dished up a huge, steamy serving of the stew, and Marlene wept and wept and wept,
‘Where’s my son?’ the father demanded again.
‘Oh,’ said the woman, ‘he’s away to the countryside to visit his mother’s great uncle. They’ll look after him well.’
‘Oh, this has upset me,’ said the father. ‘It’s all wrong. He should have said goodbye to me.’ Then he began to eat the stew, but said, ‘Marlene, what are you blubbing about? Your brother will be home soon enough.’ Still munching heartily, he said, ‘Wife, this food is delicious! Dish me up some more!’ And the more he ate, the more he wanted. ‘More!’ he said. ‘Give me some more! I’m not sharing a scrap of it. Somehow I feel this has got my name on it!’
As he chomped and chewed, he chucked the bones under the table until he was stuffed. But Marlene slipped to her dresser and fetched her best silk neckerchief from the bottom drawer. She tenderly gathered up all the bones from beneath the table, tied them up in her silk kerchief and carried them outside. Her tears were bitter as she placed the bones beneath the juniper tree. But as she laid them there, she felt suddenly consoled, and the tears dried on her cheeks. And now the juniper tree rustled and moved. The branches parted and joined, parted and joined, as though they were clapping their hands with joy. At the same time, smoke drifted out of the tree, and in the heart of the smoke there was a brightly burning fire. Then a wonderful bird flapped from the flames and began singing beautifully. He soared higher and higher into the air, and when he had disappeared, the juniper tree was just as it was before. But the silk neckerchief was gone. Marlene felt very light and happy. It was as though her brother was still alive, and she went gaily back into the house, sat down at the table, and ate.
Meanwhile, the bird flew away, landed on a goldsmith’s house, and began to sing:
Meine mutter, she killed me.
Mein vater, he ate me.
My sister, Marlene,
Made certain to gather
My bones all together,
In silk wrapped so nicely,
Under the juniper tree.
Tweet-tweet!
Under the juniper tree.
Tweet-tweet!
What a beautiful bird I am!
The goldsmith was busy in his workshop, crafting a golden chain. He heard the bird singing on his roof and thought the sound was beautiful. He stood up to go outside, and as he crossed the threshold he lost a slipper. But he kept on walking, right into the middle of the road, with only one sock and a slipper on. He was also wearing his work apron, and in one hand he held the golden chain and in the other his tongs. The sun sparkled on the street as he walked and then he stopped to get a good look at the bird.
‘Bird,’ he said, ‘you sing so beautifully! Please sing me that song again.’
‘No,’ said the bird, ‘I don’t sing twice for nothing. Give me the golden chain and I’ll sing it for you once more.’
‘It’s a deal,’ said the goldsmith. ‘Here’s the golden chain. Now sing that lovely song again.’
The bird swooped down, scooped up the golden chain in his right claw, stood before the goldsmith and began singing:
Meine mutter she killed me.
Mein vater he ate me.
My sister, Marlene,
Made certain to gather
My bones all together,
In silk wrapped so nicely
Under the juniper tree.
Tweet-tweet!
Under the juniper tree.
Tweet-tweet!
What a beautiful bird I am.
Then the bird flapped away to a shoemaker’s house, perched on his roof and sang:
Meine mutter she killed me.
Mein vater he ate me.
My sister, Marlene,
Made certain to gather
My bones all together,
In silk wrapped so nicely
Under the juniper tree.
Tweet-tweet!
Under the juniper tree.
Tweet-tweet!
What a beautiful bird I am.
When the shoemaker heard the song, he ran to the door in his singlet and squinted up at the roof, shielding his eyes from the bright sun with his hand.
‘Bird,’ he said, ‘you sing so beautifully!’ Then he called into the house. ‘Wife! Come outside for a moment. There’s a bird up there. Look! He sings so beautifully!’ Then he called his daughter and her children, and the apprentices and the maid. They all came hot-footing out into the street to squinny up at the bird, and they saw how truly beautiful he was. He had vivid bright feathers of red and green; his neck glistened like gold, and his eyes sparkled and shone in his head like stars.
‘Bird,’ said the shoemaker. ‘Please sing me that song again.’
‘No,’ said the bird. ‘I don’t sing twice for nothing. You’ll have to give me a present.’
‘Wife,’ said the man, ‘go into the shop. You’ll see a pair of red shoes on the top shelf. Fetch them here.’
His wife hurried and returned with the shoes.
‘There you go!’ said the man. ‘Now sing that lovely song again.’
The bird swooped down, scooped up the shoes in his left claw, flew back onto the roof, and sang:
Meine mutter she killed me.
Mein vater he ate me.
My sister, Marlene,
My bones all together,
In silk wrapped so nicely
Under the juniper tree.
Tweet-tweet!
Under the juniper tree.
Tweet-tweet!
What a beautiful bird I am!
When the song was finished, the bird fluttered away. He clutched the gold chain in his right claw and the red shoes in his left, and he flew far away to a mill. Clickety-clack-clack-clack, clickety-clack-clack-clack went the mill. The miller had twenty fellows working in the mill, and they were all hewing a millstone. Chick-chack, chick-chack, chick-chack went twenty chisels. And the mill kept saying clickety-clack-clack-clack, clickety-clack-clack-clack. The bird flew down and perched on a linden tree outside the mill and sang:
Meine mutter she killed me.
the men stopped working.
Mein vater he ate me.
Then two more downed tools and listened.
My sister, Marlene,
Made certain to gather …
Then four more stopped.
… My bones all together,
In silk wrapped so nicely …
Now only eight chaps were chiselling.
… Under the juniper tree.
Tweet-tweet!
Now only five.
… under the juniper tree.
Tweet-tweet!
Now only one.
What a beautiful bird I am!
Then the last chiseller chucked chiselling and listened to the final words.
‘Bird,’ he said, ‘you sing so beautifully! Let me hear it all! Sing your song to me again.’
‘No,’ answered the bird. ‘I don’t sing twice for nothing. Give me the millstone and then I’ll sing it for you again.’
‘I would give it to you if I could,’ said the man. ‘But the millstone doesn’t just belong to me.’
‘If he sings the song again,’ chorused his workmates, ‘we’ll give him the stone.’
So the bird swooped down and the twenty miller’s men grabbed beams to lift the stone. ‘Heave-ho! Heave-ho!’ The bird pushed his neck through the hole and wore the stone like a collar. Then he flew back to the tree and sang:
Meine mutter she killed me.
Mein vater he ate me.
My sister Marlene
Made certain to gather
My bones all together,
In silk wrapped so nicely,
Under the juniper tree.
Tweet-tweet!
Under the juniper tree.
Tweet-tweet!
What a beautiful bird I am!
The bird finished the song and spread his wings. In his right claw, he had the chain, in his left the shoes, and around his neck the millstone. Then he flew away to the father’s house.
The father, the mother and Marlene were sitting at the table in the parlour, and the father cried, ‘Hurrah! I’m so happy! I feel absolutely wonderful!’
‘I don’t, I don’t,’ said the mother. ‘I feel scared, as though a huge storm was brewing.’
Marlene sat there and wept and wept and wept. Then the bird flew over and, as he landed on the roof, the father said, ‘Oh, I’m in such a good mood! The sun is shining at its brightest and I feel just as though I were going to meet an old friend again!’
‘I don’t, I don’t,’ said his wife. ‘I’m so frightened that my teeth are rattling in my head. My blood’s in flames in my veins.’
She ripped her bodice from her breast, and Marlene huddled in the corner and wept and wept. She held her handkerchief to her eyes and cried until it was sodden with her tears. The bird swooped down to the juniper tree, where he perched on a branch and began singing:
Meine mutter she killed me.
The Mother covered her ears, squeezed shut her eyes, and tried to see and hear nothing, but there was a roaring in her head like a huge thunderstorm, and her eyes spat and flashed like lightning.
Mein vater he ate me.
‘Oh, Mutter,’ said the Father, ‘listen to how beautifully that bird sings. The sun’s so warm and it smells of cinammon.’
My sister, Marlene,
Made certain …
Marlene put her head on her knees and wept and wept, but the man said, ‘I’m going outside. I have to see this bird close-up.’
‘Don’t go!’ gasped the wife. ‘I feel as though the whole house is shaking and ready to burst into flames!’
But the man went outside and looked at the bird.
… to gather
My bones all together,
In silk wrapped so nicely,
Under the juniper tree.
Tweet-tweet!
Under the juniper tree.
Tweet-tweet!
What a beautiful bird I am!
The bird finished his song and dropped the golden chain so that it fell neatly around the man’s neck and fitted him perfectly. The man went inside and said, ‘Look how wonderful that bird is! He gave me this gorgeous golden chain and he’s just as gorgeous himself!’
But the woman was petrified and collapsed to the floor. Her cap fell from her head and the bird sang again:
Meine mutter, she killed me.
‘Aah! I wish I was a thousand feet under the earth and did not have to hear this song!’
Mein vater, he ate me.
Then the woman fell to the floor again as if she was dead.
My sister, Marlene, made certain …
‘Oh!’ said Marlene. ‘I want to go outside as well and see if the bird will give me something too!’ So she went out.
… to gather
My bones all together,
In silk wrapped so nicely …
Then the bird threw her the shoes.
… under the juniper tree.
Tweet-tweet!
Under the juniper tree.
Tweet-tweet!
What a beautiful bird I am!
Marlene felt light and happy. She slipped her feet into the new red shoes and skipped back into the house.
‘Hurrah!’ she said ‘The bird is so wonderful! He gave me these red shoes as a present! When I went outside I felt so sad, but now I feel full of joy!’
‘I don’t, I don’t,’ gasped the wife. She leapt to her feet and her hair flared and crackled like the red flames of hell. ‘I feel as if the end of the world is coming! I must get outside!’
So she rushed out of the door and – crash! – the bird threw the millstone down on her head and she was crushed to death. The father and Marlene heard the terrible noise and ran outside. Black smoke and red flames were dancing on the spot, and when it was finished the little brother stood there alive. He took hold of his father’s hand and Marlene’s hand and the three of them were overjoyed. They went into the house, sat down at the table, and started to eat.
The Girl and the North Wind
High up in the mountains of Norway a girl lived with her mother. The girl’s name was Kari and one day her mother asked her to fetch the flour to bake loaves and biscuits. Kari seized the biggest bowl in the kitchen and ran dutifully to the barn. She filled the bowl right to the top and hurried back across the yard when – whish-whoosh! – the North Wind swaggered around the corner and scattered all the flour away with one great puff.
Kari went back to the barn, refilled the bowl, and hastened across the yard when – whish-whoosh! – up rushed the North Wind again and blew away all the flour. Yet again Kari went to the barn. She scooped up all the flour that was left, which wasn’t even enough to reach halfway up the bowl, and hugged it to her as she bolted across the yard. But – whish-whoosh! – around the corner bowled the North Wind and puffed away the flour.
‘It’ll be gruel for the whole winter now,’ scolded Kari’s mother. ‘There’ll be no bread and definitely no biscuits till next year.’
‘No bread? No biscuits?’ gasped Kari. ‘Well, I’m going to get the flour back!’ And before her mother could draw breath she ran out of the door.
All that day Kari crunched and trud
ged through the snow until at last she reached the place where the North Wind lived.
‘North Wind! Come out here! I want to talk to you! Now!’ shouted Kari and she thumped on the door as loudly as she could.
After a few minutes the North Wind opened the door, scratching himself and yawning. ‘What’s all this banging and bawling? How can I have a decent kip with all this commotion?’
‘You stole our flour!’ exclaimed Kari. ‘You breezed up to our house – ehn, too, treh – three times today and blew away all our flour and now we won’t have any bread all winter and we’ll probably starve to death and it’ll be All Your Fault!’
The North Wind’s face puckered and wrinkled. ‘I do apologise,’ he said in a big blustery voice. ‘Sometimes I get completely carried away with blowing. I meant no harm, but it’s impossible for me to get your flour back now.’ He stared at the girl for a moment. Then he added, ‘I can’t give you your flour back, but I can give you something else.’
He disappeared inside and returned holding a cloth. ‘This cloth is magic. All you have to do is say, “Cloth, cloth, spread yourself and set out scrumptious scram,” and you will have all the food and drink you can imagine.’
Kari thanked the North Wind, pocketed the cloth, and set off homewards. It was getting dark, but Kari came to an inn on the road and decided to stay the night there. She knocked on the door and it swung open at once. Out hobbled a troll crone whose warty nose was so long she had tucked it into her waistband to avoid tripping.
‘Goo kuelh,’ rasped the crone in a haggy voice.
‘Goo kuelh, good evening,’ faltered Kari. ‘I was wondering, please may I have a bed for the night?’
‘How will you pay for it?’ growled the troll crone.