Grimm's Fairy Tales (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by Brothers Grimm

  So saying; Catherine walked on and came up with Fred, who was waiting for her, because he needed something to eat. “Now,” said he, “give me quickly what you brought.” She handed him the dry bread. “Where are the butter and cheese?” cried her husband. “Oh, Fred, dear,” she replied, “with the butter I have smeared the ruts, and the cheeses will soon come, but one ran away, and I sent the others after it to call it back!”

  “It was silly of you to do so,” said Fred, “to grease the roads with butter, and to roll cheeses down the hill!”

  “If you had but told me so,” said Catherine, vexatiously.

  So they ate the dry bread together, and presently Fred said, “Catherine, did you make things fast at home before you came out?”

  “No, Fred,” said she, “you did not tell me.”

  “Then go back and lock up the house before we go further; bring something to eat with you, and I will stop here for you.”

  Back went Catherine, thinking, “Ah! Fred will like something else to eat. Butter and cheese will not please; I will bring with me a bag of dried apples and a mug of vinegar to drink.” When she had put these together she bolted the upper half of the door, but the under door she raised up and carried away on her shoulder, thinking that certainly the house was well protected if she took such good care of the door! Catherine walked along now very leisurely, for said she to herself, “Fred will have all the longer rest!” and as soon as she reached him she gave him the door, saying, “There, Fred, now you have the house door, you can take care of the house yourself.”

  “Oh! my goodness,” exclaimed the husband, “what a clever wife I have! she has bolted the top door, but brought away the bottom part, where any one can creep through! Now it is too late to go back to the house, but since you brought the door here you may carry it onwards.”

  “The door I will willingly carry,” replied Catherine, “but the apples and the vinegar will be too heavy, so I shall hang them on the door, and make that carry them!”

  Soon after they came into a wood and looked about for the thieves, but they could not find them, and when it became dark they climbed up into a tree to pass the night. But scarcely had they done this when up came the fellows who carry away what should not go with them, and find things before they are lost. They laid themselves down right under the tree upon which Fred and Catherine were, and, making a fire, prepared to share their booty. Then Fred slipped down on the other side, and collected stones, with which he climbed the tree again, to beat the thieves with. The stones, however, did them no harm, for the fellows called out, “Ah! it will soon be morning, for the wind is shaking down the chestnuts.” All this while Catherine still had the door upon her shoulder, and, as it pressed very heavily, she thought the dried apples were in fault, and said to Fred, “I must throw down these apples.” “No, Catherine,” said he, “not now, they might discover us.” “Ah, I must though, they are so heavy.”

  “Well, then, do it in the hangman’s name!” cried Fred.

  As they fell down the rogues said, “Ah! the birds are pulling off the leaves.”

  A little while after Catherine said again, “Oh! Fred, I must pour out the vinegar, it is so heavy.”

  “No, no!” said he, “it will discover us.”

  “Ah! but I must, Fred, it is very heavy,” said Catherine.

  “Well, then, do it in the hangman’s name!” cried Fred.

  So she poured out the vinegar, and as it dropped on them the thieves said, “Ah! the dew is beginning to fall.”

  Not many minutes after Catherine found the door was still quite as heavy, and said again to Fred, “Now I must throw down this door.”

  “No, Catherine,” said he, “that would certainly discover us.”

  “Ah! Fred, but I must; it presses me so terribly.”

  “No, Catherine dear! do hold it fast,” said Fred.

  “There—it is gone!” said she

  “Then let it go in the hangman’s name!” cried Fred, while it fell crashing through the branches. The rogues below thought the Evil One was descending the tree, and ran off, leaving every thing behind them. And early in the morning Fred and his wife descended, and found all their gold under the tree.

  As soon as they got home again, Fred said, “Now, Catherine, you must be very industrious and work hard.”

  “Yes, my dear husband,” said she; “I will go into the fields to cut corn.” When she was come into the field she said to herself, “Shall I eat before I cut, or sleep first before I cut?” She determined to eat, and soon became so sleepy over her meal, that when she began to cut she knew not what she was doing, and cut off half her clothes, gown, petticoat, and all. When after a long sleep Catherine awoke, she got up half stripped and said to herself, “Am I myself? or am I not? Ah! I am not myself.” By-and-by night came on, and Catherine ran into the village, and, knocking at her husband’s window, called, “Fred!”

  “What is the matter?” cried he.

  “I want to know if Catherine is in doors?” said she.

  “Yes, yes!” answered Fred, “she is certainly within, fast asleep.”

  “Then I am at home,” said she, and ran away.

  Standing outside Catherine found some thieves, wanting to steal, and going up to them she said, “I will help you.”

  At this the thieves were very glad, not doubting but that she knew where to light on what they sought. But Catherine, stepping in front of the houses, called out, “Good people, what have you that we can steal?” At this the thieves said, “You will do for us with a vengeance!” and they wished they had never come near her; but in order to rid themselves of her they said, “Just before the village, the parson has some roots lying in his field; go and fetch us some.”

  Catherine went as she was bid, and began to grub for them, and soon made herself very dirty with the earth. Presently a man came by and saw her, and stood still, for he thought it was the Evil One who was grovelling so among the roots. Away he ran into the village to the parson, and told him the Evil One was in his field, rooting up the turnips. “Ah! heavens!” said the parson, “I have a lame foot, and I cannot go out to exorcise him.”

  “Then I will carry you a pick-a-back,” said the man, and took him up.

  Just as they arrived in the field, Catherine got up and drew herself up to her full height.

  “Oh! it is the Evil One!” cried the parson, and both he and the man hurried away; and, behold! the parson ran faster with his lame legs, through fear and terror, than the countryman could with his sound legs!

  The Two Brothers

  Once upon a time there were two brothers; the one rich and the other poor. The rich man was a Goldsmith and of an evil disposition; but the poor brother maintained himself by mending brooms, and withal was honest and pious. He had two children,—twins, as like one another as two drops of water,—who used often to go into their rich uncle’s house and receive a meal of the fragments which he left. One day it happened when the poor man had gone into the wood for twigs that he saw a bird which was of gold and more beautiful than he had ever before set eyes on. He picked up a stone and flung it at the bird, and luckily hit it, but so slightly that only a single feather dropped off. This feather he took to his brother, who looked at it and said, “It is of pure gold!” and gave him a good sum of money for it. The next day he climbed up a birch-tree to lop off a bough or two, when the same bird flew out of the branches, and as he looked round he found a nest which contained an egg, also of gold. This he took home as before to his brother, who said it was of pure gold, and gave him what it was worth, but said that he must have the bird itself. For the third time now the poor brother went into the forest, and saw the golden bird sitting again upon the tree, and taking up a stone he threw it at it, and, securing it, took it to his brother, who gave him for it a large pile of gold. With this the man thought he might return, and went home light-hearted.

  But the Goldsmith was crafty and bold, knowing very well what sort of a bird it was. He called his wife and
said to her, “Roast this bird for me, and take care of what ever falls from it, for I have a mind to eat it by myself.” Now, the bird was not an ordinary one certainly, for it possessed this wonderful power, that whoever should eat its heart and liver would find henceforth every morning a gold piece under his pillow. The wife made the bird ready, and putting it on a spit set it down to roast. Now it happened that while it was at the fire, and the woman was gone out of the kitchen on some other necessary work, the two children of the poor Broom-mender ran in, and began to turn the spit round at the fire for amusement. Presently two little titbits fell down into the pan out of the bird, and one of the boys said, “Let us eat these two little pieces, I am so hungry, and nobody will find it out.” So they quickly despatched the two morsels, and presently the woman came back, and, seeing at once they had eaten something, asked them what it was. “Two little bits which fell down out of the bird,” was the reply. “They were the heart and liver!” exclaimed the woman, quite frightened, and, in order that her husband might not miss them and be in a passion, she quickly killed a little chicken, and, taking out its liver and heart, put it inside the golden bird. As soon as it was done enough she carried it to the Goldsmith, who devoured it quite alone, and left nothing at all on the plate. The next morning, however, when he looked under his pillow, expecting to find the gold pieces, there was not the smallest one possible to be seen.

  The two children did not know what good luck had fallen upon them, and, when they got up the next morning, something fell ringing upon the ground, and as they picked it up they found it was two gold pieces. They took them to their father, who wondered very much, and considered what he should do with them, but as the next morning the same thing happened, and so on every day, he went to his brother and narrated to him the whole story. The Goldsmith perceived at once what had happened, that the children had eaten the heart and liver of his bird; and in order to revenge himself, and because he was so covetous and hard hearted, he persuaded the father that his children were in league with the devil, and warned him not to take the gold, but to turn them out of the house, for the Evil One had them in his power, and would make them do some mischief. Their father feared the Evil One, and, although it cost him a severe pang, he led his children out into the forest and left them there with a sad heart.

  Now, the two children ran about the wood, seeking the road home, but could not find it, so that they only wandered farther away. At last they met a Huntsman, who asked them to whom they belonged. “We are the children of the poor Broom-mender,” they replied, and told him that their father could no longer keep them at home, because a gold piece lay under their pillows every morning. “Well,” replied the Huntsman, “that does not seem right, if you are honest, and not idle.” And the good man, having no children of his own, took home with him the twins, because they pleased him, and told them he would be their father and bring them up. With him they learnt all kinds of hunting, and the gold pieces, which each one found at his uprising, they laid aside against a rainy day.

  When now they became quite young men the Huntsman took them into the forest, and said, “To-day you must perform your shooting trial, that I may make you free-huntsmen like myself.” So they went with him, and waited a long time, but no wild beast approached, and the Huntsman, looking up, saw a flock of wild geese flying over in the form of a triangle. “Shoot one from each corner,” said he to the twins, and, when they had done this, another flock came flying over in the form of a figure of two, and from these they were also bid to shoot one at each corner. When they had likewise performed this deed successfully, their foster-father said, “I now make you free; for you are capital marksmen.”

  Thereupon the two brothers went together into the forest, laying plans and consulting with each other; and, when at evening time they sat down to their meal, they said to their foster-father, “We shall not touch the least morsel of food till you have granted our request.”

  He asked them what it was, and they replied,

  “We have now learned everything: let us go into the world, and see what we can do there, and let us set out at once.”

  “You have spoken like brave huntsmen,” cried the old man, overjoyed; “what you have asked is just what I wished; you can set out as soon as you like, for you will be prosperous.”

  Then they ate and drank together once more in great joy and hilarity.

  When the appointed day arrived, the old Huntsman gave to each youth a good rifle and a dog, and let them take from the gold pieces as many as they liked. Then he accompanied them a part of their way, and at leaving gave them a bare knife, saying, “If you should separate, stick this knife in a tree by the roadside, and then, if one returns to the same point, he can tell how his absent brother fares; for the side upon which there is a mark will, if he die, rust; but as long as he lives it will be as bright as ever.”

  The two brothers now journeyed on till they came to a forest so large, that they could not possibly get out of it in one day, so there they passed the night, and ate what they had in their hunters’ pockets. The second day they still walked on, but came to no opening, and, having nothing to eat, one said, “We must shoot something, or we shall die from hunger;” and he loaded his gun and looked around. Just then an old Hare came running up, at which he aimed, but it cried out,

  “Dear huntsman, pray now, let me live,

  And I will two young lev’rets give.”

  So saying, it ran back into the brush-wood and brought out two hares, but they played about so prettily and actively that the Hunters could not make up their mind to kill them. So they took them with them, and the two leverets followed in their footsteps. Presently a Fox came up with them, and, as they were about to shoot it, it cried out,

  “Dear hunters, pray now, let me live,

  And I will two young foxes give.”

  These it brought; and the brothers, instead of killing them, put them with the young hares, and all four followed. In a little while a Wolf came out of the brush-wood, whom the hunters also aimed at, but he cried out as the others,

  “Dear hunters, pray now, let me live,

  Two young ones, in return, I’ll give.”

  The Hunters placed the two wolves with the other animals, who still followed them; and soon they met a Bear, who also begged for his life, saying,

  “Dear hunters, pray now, let me live,

  Two young ones, in return, I’ll give.”

  These two Bears were added to the others; they made eight; and now who came last? A Lion, shaking his mane. The two brothers were not frightened, but aimed at him, and he cried,

  “Dear hunters, pray now, let me live,

  Two young ones, in return, I’ll give.”

  The Lion then fetched his two young cubs, and now the Huntsmen had two lions, two bears, two wolves, two foxes, and two hares following and waiting upon them. Meanwhile their hunger had received no satisfaction, and they said to the foxes. “Here, you slinks, get us something to eat, for you are both sly and crafty.”

  The Foxes replied, “Not far from here lies a village, where we can procure many fowls, and thither we will show you the way.”

  So they went into the village, and bought something to eat for themselves and their animals, and then went on further, for the Foxes were well acquainted with the country where the hen-roosts were, and so could direct the Huntsmen well.

  For some little way they walked on without finding any situations where they could live together, so they said to one another, “It cannot be otherwise—we must separate.” Then the two brothers divided the beasts, so that each one had a lion, a bear, a wolf, a fox, and a hare, and then they took leave of each other, promising to love one another till death; and the knife which their foster-father gave them they stuck in a tree, so that one side pointed to the east, and the other to the west.

  The younger brother came afterwards with his animals to a town which was completely hung with black crape. He went into an inn and inquired if he could lodge his beasts, and the
landlord gave him a stable, and in the wall was a hole through which the hare crept and seized upon a cabbage; the fox fetched himself a hen, and when he had eaten it he stole the cock also; but the lion, the bear, and the wolf, being too big for the hole, could get nothing. The master, therefore, made the host fetch an ox for them, on which they regaled themselves merrily, and so, having seen after his beasts, he asked the landlord why the town was all hung in mourning. The Landlord replied it was because the next day the King’s only daughter was to die. “Is she then sick unto death?” inquired the Huntsman.

  “No,” replied the other, “she is well enough; but still she must die.”

  “How is that?” asked the Huntsman.

  “Out there before the town,” said the Landlord, “is a high mountain on which lives a Dragon, who must every year have a pure maiden, or he would lay waste all the country. Now, all the maidens have been given up, and there is but one left—the King’s daughter, who must also be given up, for there is no other escape, and to-morrow morning it is to happen.”

  The Huntsman asked, “Why is the Dragon not killed?”

  “Ah!” replied the Landlord, “many knights have tried, but every one has lost his life; and the King has promised his own daughter to him who conquers the Dragon, and after his death the inheritance of his kingdom.”

  The Huntsman said nothing further at that time, but the next morning, taking with him his beasts, he climbed the Dragon’s mountain. A little way up stood a chapel, and upon an altar therein were three cups, and by them was written, “Whoever drinks the contents of these cups will be the strongest man on earth, and may take the sword which lies buried beneath the threshold.” Without drinking, the Huntsman sought and found the sword in the ground, but he could not move it from its place; so he entered, and drank out the cups, and then easily pulled out the sword, and was so strong that he waved it about like a feather.