Showing posts with label Swiss Fairy Tale. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Swiss Fairy Tale. Show all posts

Friday, July 12, 2019

The mysterious Achti-light, a fairy tale from Switzerland

A fairy tale from Visp, Switzerland: the mysterious Achti-light.

Last seen in the hot summer days sometime around 1890, a man reported that almost every evening at dusk a strange light moved from Stalden village toward Neubrueck. From the distance it looked like a lantern on the top and leather boots on the bottom. But when one tried to approach and look straight at the object, one saw neither light nor boots.
Everyone in the village of Neubrueck saw it. No one was frightened although they knew it was an unnatural light. 
We called it the “Achti-light” because it came at dusk.
This ghost was then banned from the area (and presumably never more returned*). 


(*Translator’s note). 

Sunday, May 15, 2011

A Phantom Rider Unleashes the Floodwaters of Spring

The Phantom Rider of Switzerland

On stormy spring nights the  Reuss River rushes wildly through the jagged rocks in the Aargau Valley in Switzerland. The river, swollen from the melted snow, causes the incoming tributaries to gush over their banks. On such wild spring evenings folk do not like to walk near the Muri Cloister for it is then that the ghostly Booted Rider is seen mounted on his snow-white steed. With his skull set backwards on his shoulders, the phantom rider can be seen racing through mountain and valley and often he is seen in two villages at the same time.

Once many, many years ago the rich cloister appointed a very treacherous overlord to be its protector. The abbot believed they had found the most capable man in the country because he multiplied the cloister’s treasures and prosperity year by year. But the good abbot was blinded by riches. He never saw the other face of the cloister’s protector, the face he showed the people in the valley. In truth he was the most hard-hearted man imaginable. Begging and pleading would not soften his stone-cold heart and when he saw a widow or orphan crying, he only laughed. He wore enormous boots, which extended far above his knees. When the poor people saw the evil overlord of the cloister come riding toward them on his mighty steed, they hid behind their houses and barns; the children ran screaming in terror: “The booted rider is coming!” and they all fled. They were terrified especially of his inhumanly gigantic head, his terrifying eyes and his horrible red beard.

He terrorized people of all sorts. The cloister was entitled to every tenth sheaf of corn that grew in the valley, but the overlord also viciously seized the eleventh and twelfth bundle of grain. He even stole the hay from the farmers, had their wood piles carted off and stole the fruit off the trees. In short, he did harm wherever he could. Woe to the person who was indebted to him! During the coldest days of winter he would turn the family out of its home and even ripped away the blankets from those who lay sick in bed. If they held up the cross to ward off his evil, he spat on them.

Near Schongau in the neighboring area of Lucerne there lived a pious woman. She decided to leave her entire property to the Muri Cloister in her will. The booted rider liked this idea. He rode over to the old woman to view her property. But while she sat at her table eating her soup, he told her she should also leave the cloister the small parcel of land that jutted into the larger piece of property. The woman became angry when she heard this and threw the booted rider out of her house. The small parcel he spoke of belonged to her niece, who lived there in a miserable straw hut. It was because of this poor family that the woman had left her extensive holdings to the cloister, so that her poor brother’s daughter would have the Muri Cloister nearby as sole protectorate.

But the booted rider could not forget the smaller property. Besides the extensive land holdings, he also wanted this smaller parcel. He stole the last will and testament from the old woman and by forging the woman’s handwriting, wrote the following: This shall include the little hut and property, which up to now has been occupied by my brother’s daughter.

When the pious woman died, the booted rider rode on his steed to the court and presented the will to the justice. Frightened, the poor brother’s daughter came to court and contested the false will. But the booted rider offered to swear an oath to the veracity of the document. He swore that as God was his true creator and judge ruling over him, he now stood on  cloister land.

He had barely finished uttering the words of this oath, when a blood-curdling scream emanated from his lips and he fell down dead. The people rushed forward and recognized he had made a false oath. In his thick red hair they found hidden a spoon and comb and his enormous boots had been filled in the tips with dirt from the cloister garden. So God had executed him on the spot.

Today when the children in the area misbehave and will not mind their grandmother, the window is opened and the following words called out into the darkness: 

“Booted rider, come gallop! 
Seize my misbehaving trollop!”   

The children promptly withdraw into the chimney corner and become as obedient as a white lamb being led on a slender string.

Friday, April 15, 2011

It's time to think about gnomes: fairy tale of the Venetian Gnome.


(Illustration by Harald Wiberg)


A Fairy Tale from Switzerland:


The Venetian Gnome

In ancient times dark-haired persons often traveled from Wales to the Swiss Alps. There they searched for gold in the cliffs and wild mountain streams. The local folk called these dark-haired visitors Venetians. They were popular among the Swiss because they were well-mannered and entertaining and told many stories about foreign lands and their city by the sea. But alpine shepherds thought it odd that these Venetians always carried leather purses round their necks. These little sacks were always filled with gold, even though the villagers themselves never found a single grain of gold dust despite all their searching. They knew that the Venetians were highly skilled and did a great deal more than eat rye bread.
It happened that such a Venetian, a plain-spoken little man, came every summer to Clarus, which is today a beautiful village near the alp called Glaernisch. As soon as the summer cow herders drove their herds into the high mountains, the Venetian Gnome followed. He helped the herders ladle out the milk, ate cheese and bread with them, and also slept in their wild mountain cabin. But while the cow herders kept watch over their cattle and made cheese and butter, the Venetian Gnome vanished between the cliffs and marched through streamlets and gathered stones that glistened in the bright sunlight. When his seven sacks were full, the Venetian disappeared but no one ever knew quite how it happened. When they all thought he was long gone, he reappeared on the alp and began collecting new stones in seven new sacks.
The herders thought the little man’s comings and goings a bit strange, but nothing more. One day, they decided to play a trick on the gnome. They secretly took one of his seven sacks and hid it in a place they thought he could never find. When the gnome returned in the evening from his gold search and entered the cabin, the Swiss herders were lying around on the grass outside. The gnome approached them: “I have noticed that you have hidden one of my sacks and the stones inside. Shall you fetch it, or shall I?” They laughed and replied “Go get it yourself!” To their amazement the little man ran directly to the spot under a steep drop-off where the cow herders had hidden his sack. Angered, the little man now returned the sack and the stones to the cabin.
As summer ended, the grass no longer grew so tall and snow hung in the air. The shadows were longer these days and the wind nipped at the cow herders’ cheeks. The Venetian Gnome took leave as he did every year. But this time he spoke to the herders in a friendly way: “I am returning to Venice. If one of you ever visit me there, I will give you a sack full of silver!”
The Venetian Gnome had hardly departed from the alps when the herders forgot his friendly invitation. Only one remembered; he was a poor man and owned a small parcel in the valley. He remembered the Venetian’s words. One sack full of silver would come in handy and help him care for his sick wife and many children.
When the herders now descended the mountain and returned to the valley, the larch trees and oaks had turned crimson and orange. But the poor herdsman quietly departed, crossed the river and the Gotthard Pass, until after a long march he arrived at the sea. In the distance he saw a city with many towers reaching into the heavens. It was the seaside city of Venice, about which the gnome had spoken so often.
When he arrived in the city, which only had a few streets because it was built in the middle of water on a few sand bars, he felt a bit strange because he did not know the house or street where the Venetian Gnome lived. He didn’t even know his name. Sadly he walked through several lanes and was already thinking about returning home, when suddenly someone tapped him on his shoulder. He turned around,  and a small, distinguished gentleman extended his hand and welcomed him. He immediately asked how things were in Clarus and how the cow herders were faring, whereby he referred to many of the villagers by name.
When the poor herder saw the finely dressed little man, he recognized the unassuming Venetian Gnome, who had shared so many summer days in the mountains with him and his comrades. He was happy when the little man invited him to come to his house and find accommodations there. He was amazed at the beautiful house the Venetian took him to, it was made of marble and the walls glistened. In front of the windows there lay a dark canal and above flew snow-white doves. Now things were going well for the cow herder. He received every sort of food that he desired and wine that was as red as blood. He soon regained his strength.
It wasn’t long before the poor cow herder tired of the good life, although he could have spent the entire day lying in silken sheets in bed. His thoughts always returned to his wife and children.
One day he sat in front of the Venetian’s fine marble palace, looked sadly around and remembered his distant homeland. The Venetian came out of the house and when he saw him sitting there so dejectedly, tears came to his eyes and he said in a friendly way: “I think you are bored here in Venice! Or are you homesick?”
“That’s it,” replied the cow herder.” I am plagued with homesickness. I don’t know what to do.”
The Venetian laughed, led him inside his house into a chamber the cow herder had never entered before. There was a magnificent mirror hanging on the wall. “Look into the glass,” the Venetian said, “See how things are going in the village of Clarus!”
Wonder of wonders! The cow herd now saw the village of Clarus clearly before him. But he also saw his own homestead, his wife bathing the children and her eyes were full of tears because she was thinking about her husband.
The Venetian now said “Go home! I will give you enough provisions in gold or silver. If you prefer gold, I will you give it to you. If you want silver, then you can fetch it yourself from my treasury.” The Glarner herder replied “I only want a sack of silver, like you promised me in Clarus on the alp.!” And with the permission of the Venetian he went into his treasury and filled a sack with silver.
When the cow herder left the marble palace and departed, the Venetian gnome said to him: “Pay attention to that sack so that you do not lose it on your journey. And if you sleep in an inn, take it with you to bed and place it under your head.” The cow herd thanked his host for every good thing that had been done and made his way from the seaside city. He wandered higher and higher into the mountains and toward his home.
When he had walked an entire day and night threatened to fall once again, he had to find accommodations in a Welsh village . This was difficult because he was still far from his hometown and the sack he carried was very heavy. But he searched out an inn, went to bed and placed the sack of silver under his head.
When he opened his eyes the next morning he found himself in Clarus, in his own bed with a mattress stuffed with leaves. He heard his cuckoo clock ticking in the kitchen and in front of the cabin he heard his goats bleating! First he thought he had dreamt it all and had never been to Venice. But then he noticed something hard under his head and found the sack full of silver. He rushed to his wife and children who squealed in glee! And how happy his poor wife was when she found his strange pillow. The poor cow herd now became a rich man. His descendants still live honorable lives in Clarus but the villagers call them the family from Venice.

Translation Copyright FairyTaleChannel.org

Sunday, February 21, 2010

The Legend of Saint Meinrad and his Ravens


‘Tis destiny unshunnable, like death. (Othello)

In this legend from Switzerland, a saint acquires the gift of second sight through prayer and meditation.

In ancient times, when St. Gall, St. Columba and St. Fridolin roamed the earth, they eventually arrived in Switzerland, where they found the Helvetii, the first inhabitants of Switzerland. There are many stories about these saints, but the miracles they performed were often only witnessed by the stone cliffs, ancient trees, babbling streams or wild animals they encountered. Still they toiled on, leaving behind many chapels, churches and cloisters. A long time ago, a God-fearing hermit took up residence in one of the saints’ abandoned abodes he found in ruins on Etzelberg Mountain. This is where the Alps begin and where the Helvetii built their pole-dwellings. The hermit’s name was Meinrad and he was of Hollenzollern lineage.

One day he sat in his small chapel reading a book. Deep in thought he turned his gaze to the blue lake lying below him. He looked out over the valley; the numerous fruit trees surrounding the cloister had burst into bloom and a large hawk circled high above the nearby Santis Mountain.

Now Meinrad loved his solitary life on snow-capped Etzelberg Mountain. But soon the people living in the valley below heard of his piety. More and more began making the journey up the steep path to his dwelling, but this disturbed the hermit’s meditations.

One day, when people once again had climbed the arduous path they no longer found the recluse. He had departed beyond the wild Sihlbach forest stream and had penetrated deep, deep inside the wilderness, where only wild animals lived. But he was not afraid. On his way he found a fir tree with a nest. The mother bird flew round 'bout his head, but he took the baby birds from the nest, placed one on each shoulder and continued on his way. He walked until he came to a spring, with bubbling water as fresh and cold as the ice around him. Here he built a hut and a chapel. He stayed at this lonely and desolate spot and now lived once more in complete isolation in the wilderness.

Day and night he lay prostrate on the floor of his hut in deep prayer and meditation, while the two raven babies played and frolicked outside his dwelling. At night when the fog enveloped the mountain side, creaking noises could be heard coming from the forest, the voice of bear and wolf sometimes penetrated the walls and often frightful spooks could be heard raging around the chapel at night. But he was not afraid, because the angels always came and helped him and comforted him.

After many years of living in the wilderness, pilgrims once again began to come to him, drawn by stories of his holy life. Finally two robbers crept in secretly toward St. Meinrad’s chapel. They thought they might find valuables in his hut and relieve the Saint of such articles that were of no use to him. But the Saint saw the thieves coming toward him in a vision and so he prepared a meal for them.

When they finally arrived, he extended a warm welcome and gave them as much food and drink as they wished. But falling into a rage in the face of such meekness, the thieves overcame him. They beat him with their clubs until he was dead. The two large ravens of St. Meinrad descended on the thieves, flattering about and scratching them with their talons; they soon became frightened for their lives. Thinking it best to light a candle near the Saint’s feet, they stooped over to find one already lit.

Now they were even more afraid. They realized they had murdered a saint and fled through the dark forest. But the ravens followed high over head, just above the tops of the fir trees. Finally the robbers came to the city of Zurich and hoped for protection there. Here they entered a tavern and wanted to laugh out in relief. But the raven pair flew through the open window, fell upon the two robbers and caused the other guests to take notice. It dawned on the other guests that these ravens were no other than the ravens of St. Meinrad, who lived in the dark wood high up on the mountain. The murderers realized that fleeing was of no use, they admitted their deed and were put to death. The villagers ascended the mountain and buried St. Meinrad in the wilderness where later Cloister Maria Einsiedeln was built. The ravens took up watch on a nearby fir tree, where they still reside today.


More fairy tales can be found at:


Translation Copyright FairyTaleChannel.com


Fairy tales about prognostication and the future:

http://www.fairytalechannel.com/2010/03/reading-grimms-fairy-tale-crystal-ball.html


Or about a pagan religious tradition transformed into a Christian rite:

http://www.fairytalechannel.com/2008/08/fairy-tale-for-august-15-assumption-of.html

Or about Saint Dionysisus and King Dagobert:

http://www.fairytalechannel.com/2010/04/king-dagoberts-soul-sails-seas.html

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Of Preeners and Prognosticators: The Bird, Who Tells the Truth


The Bird, Who Tells the Truth, a Fairy Tale from the Rhaeto-Romansh Region of Switzerland

One morning a miller found a large and heavy chest resting on his millwheel. He quickly removed the heavy box and opened it. Inside he found three children, like wine and milk, each with a golden star on its forehead. They were two boys and one girl. Astonished the miller brought the children to his wife and because they had no children of their own, they took in these three and raised them. When the children had grown, the miller let the truth slip out and he revealed, he did not know where they came from. The two boys would not give the miller any rest. They urged him to reveal the person who knew of their parentage. After many hours of pleading and needling, the miller finally said: “The bird who tells the truth knows it and he lives in the castle!”

Now the youngest of the boys could no longer be kept at home. The next day he took the miller’s black horse and went out riding to find the bird who tells the truth. He rode many days and the youth did not return. The next spring, the older brother left home to look for his brother and the bird who tells the truth. He, too, did not return. Now it was the sister’s turn. Her name was Amalia and she, too, no longer wanted to stay at the mill. She took the white horse of the miller and rode out into the world to search for the bird who tells the truth. The miller and his wife cried bitter tears so that their eyes were quite red, for Amalia was beautiful and good, like an angel.

The maid bravely traversed the wide, dark wood until she met an old withered wife, who said to her “I know you want to find the bird who tells the truth and your two brothers. If you want to be successful in both things, you must never look back, regardless what happens!”

The maid gratefully promised she would not forget such wise counsel and continued riding. She came to a dark and deep sea, beside which lay a steep mountain. At the summit could be seen a large and beautiful castle. As quickly as she could, she jumped off her steed, took up her walking stick and began climbing the mountain. She heard calling after her: “Amalia! Amalia!” and a loud noise followed her. But Amalia never looked back. She continued on her way, walking ever more quickly. Finally she arrived at a castle made of beautiful green marble, with high towers and golden roof. But in front of the gate stood a fearsome wild man of the forest who grasped a fir tree in each hand. He guarded the entry and let no one enter. Amalia was quick as a weasel and ran through the legs of the wild man and entered the castle. Everywhere she looked there were rooms filled with gold, silver and glistening gems. But the most beautiful room was filled with cages containing every type of bird. Some were red, others white, yellow, green, black-brown, in short, they were of every color. When the maid entered the room, each bird called out to her “I am the bird who tells the truth! Take me, take me!”

In the corner sat a small bird, who said nothing. Amalia took this one. The gray bird was very happy and said: “I was not allowed to say that I am the bird who tells the truth, but you have found the right one! You must go into the rose garden, take the divining rod next to the clear spring in the middle of the garden. When we descend from the mountain, touch every stone you see with the rod!”

The maid found the rod in the garden and together with the bird, made her way down the mountain. Every stone she touched with the rod was transformed into a knight or lady. The two brothers of Amalia also emerged from two stones and with tears in their eyes, they now embraced their dear sister. The bird, however, warbled that they were all king’s children. Their uncle had placed them in a chest while their father was at war and the waves had carried them far away. The evil uncle had told the king, that his wife had instead bore three kittens.

Full of rage the brothers, accompanied by many knights and ladies, went to the realm of the king. There, the bird told the king the story of his children. Overcome with happiness, he embraced his children and released their mother from prison. They all sat down at a splendid table and celebrated a feast. But the uncle was torn into four pieces by four horses. Amalia became a fine and tender queen while her brothers became brave and goodly kings. This is the story of the bird who tells the truth!



To read more fairy tales, about seers and prognosticators, click on the link:


http://www.fairytalechannel.com/2010/03/reading-grimms-fairy-tale-crystal-ball.html


http://www.fairytalechannel.com/2010/02/legend-of-saint-meinrad-and-his-ravens.html

And a wonderful fairy tale about a horse that tells the truth:

http://www.fairytalechannel.com/2010/02/animal-prognosticators-in-fairy-tales.html


Hit the link Seers  in the right hand column of the first page of this blog for more fairy tales about discerning the future.

Translation Copyright FairyTaleChannel.com

Please read and enjoy and pass on to friends.
Do not copy, plagiarize or pilfer, Thanks!

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Fairy Tale of the Little Swineherd


From the shores of Lake Geneva: Fairy Tale of the Little Swineherd

(This fairy tale takes place on Lake Leman in Switzerland, which is more widely known as Lake Geneva.)


At the mouth of the beautiful and enormous Lake Leman, the snow-capped ridges of the Savoy mountain range are reflected. Here lies the city of Geneva, today often referred to as the Republic of Geneva by proud citizens. In ancient times the Dukes of Savoy wanted to conquer the populace of Geneva. Under the cover of darkness they scaled the city walls only to be discovered in the nick of time. Although they had already penetrated the city, they were driven out and soundly defeated. At Fortress Escalade, the youths of Geneva still sing a song about this siege. They sing: “A la belle escalade, Savoyard, garde, garde!”

In those ancient times a phantom ship was often seen from the beautiful terraces of the city and the small villages dotting the strand. Villagers reported that the ship glimmered brightly under a full moon and the soft strumming of a harp could often be heard floating gently across the waters. When the vessel approached shore you could see a beautiful woman in white surrounded by numerous small children; more like angels or gentle butterflies they danced a roundelay. The maiden was so beautiful that the townspeople could only think her beauty was conjured up by witches or devilry. Wherever the ship touched land, the most wonderful flowers sprouted up and you could not find these flowers anywhere else. Whoever saw the ship of fortune, for that is what the people called it, that person’s last wish was fulfilled. Many a stingy or depraved person strolled the shoreline by night and day … searching for a glimpse of the ship, but all in vain. It never revealed itself to them. It only brought luck to persons like the small maid, who stared longingly out of her window and had a secret wish deep in her heart.

Once an orphan by the name of Johann from Brogny tended his herd of pigs in a small village outside Geneva. He spent the entire day with them in the field but at night he drove them back to the village. One day it seemed to him that darkness fell much earlier. The moon soon rose over Mount Saleff and formed a golden path down to the lake and the city of Geneva. Johann could see the dome of the cathedral outlined in the eerie glow. Suddenly he heard the sound of horses galloping in his direction. A troop of soldiers rode by and frightened his pigs so they ran off into every direction. Behind the soldiers, the Bishop of Geneva could be seen riding in pomp and circumstance.

Soon the sound of the horses’ hooves echoed in the distance and only the little wavelets could be heard beating the sand. The boy said “If only I could be such a fine gentleman!” In that moment he was startled by the wonderful playing of a harp and when he looked around he saw the phantom ship illuminated as it sailed by. A woman in white stood in the ship surrounded by the children dancing their roundelay, singing and laughing. His heart pounded and he was blinded by the intensity of the ship’s glow. He covered his eyes with his hands but when he took them away, the phantom ship had vanished. He thought it had all been a dream, gathered his spooked piglets and drove them back to the village.

As he entered the village he saw a light burning in the shop of the shoemaker. He had ordered a pair of fine shoes but didn’t have the money to pay for them. He stammered out his apologies to the man, but the shoemaker pulled out a fine pair of leather shoes from under his three-legged stool. He held them up and said laughingly “Take them, they are finished. You can pay me when you become a rich man!”

Small Johann from Brogny beamed with joy and took the fine pair of shoes gratefully. He thought to himself how his wish had been fulfilled because the woman in white had heard his yearning and answered his prayers. He had long forgotten his other wish of becoming a fine gentleman.

But God did not forget and his ways are perhaps strange to men. When Johann put on his new pair of shoes, they glimmered and shone in the bright sunlight. This drew the attention of a wealthy nobleman in the city, who noticed Johann’s diligence and honesty. He soon adopted the orphan boy and when he grew to manhood, Johann married the duke’s beautiful daughter. It is said that a pair golden shoes still figure prominently in the crest of an ancient Geneva family. Their shield and coat of arms are engraved over a doorway in a castle near Lake Leman. Below the shoes the words can be read “A la belle escalade, Savoyard, garde, garde!”


Read more fairy tales by clicking on the link:

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Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Reading the Writing on the Wall: My Husband is a God, but My Friends are All a Bunch of Sheep




Reading the Fairy Tale The Sun Prince

In the tantalizing tale of the Sun Prince (full text below), the abundant Christian images (flock of sheep attending church, who belong to a Christ-like Sun Prince) could easily lead one to believe this is a religious parable. But a closer analysis of the text reveals an unruly narrative with threads that do not tie up so neatly. As the eldest daughter attempts to explain to her baffled mother, we, too, must read the writing on the wall to fully grasp the significance of this tale.

A rather somber Sun Prince has abducted a mortal bride and taken her off to his abode far, far away. (This is reminiscent of other stories of wife-snatching gods such as Persephone and the God of the Underworld.) The eldest brother endeavors to find his sister and alleviate his mother’s grief. When he finally finds her, he discovers that the bride and her husband consort with a flock of sheep, river-swimmers who are semi-divine beings. But the most remarkable part of the story is stated in two rather unexceptional phrases: Although the oldest son has taken the prettiest horse his parents possess, when he arrives at the dwelling of the Sun Prince the brother is told to “…bring his horse to the stable. Horses were not tolerated near the door.” If we infer that a temple is the only appropriate abode for a Sun Prince and that horses were not tolerated near the temple in this tale, we come a step closer to understanding the story.

The horse was of vital importance to Indo-European peoples and features prominently in their mythologies. Horses were considered to be the most noble, sacred, trusted and intelligent of all animals. Almost every god in Indo-European mythology had his own named horse endowed with supernatural powers. Because of their special status, horses were kept directly next to temples and were used in sacred rites, including sacrifice and soothsaying. The sound of neighing alone was believed to bring fortune and health. An association between horses and the sun god has also been documented for numerous ancient tribes. It was the sun god who appeared in the morning sky with his horses and pulled the solar disk across the heavens in his wagon or chariot. Archaeologists have found such images throughout Europe (Trundholm sun disk, Celtic coins, Helios images, to name just a few examples). The fact that horses were not tolerated near the dwelling of the Sun Prince in this story, points to a cultural context outside the norm. This fairy tale comes from a remote region in Switzerland that was dependent on the sheep and not the horse for its survival. Bordering on Italy near the town of Merano, the area is still renowned for its fine wool and hand-woven fabrics.

Many ancient cultures personified the sun as a god and the earth as a goddess. The marriage between sun and earth was responsible for the fruitfulness of the earth and reenacted in religious festivals and cult practices. In many cultures bowing to the rising and setting sun was a daily ritual. This is echoed in the actions of the pious sheep of this fairy tale who show their reverence by bowing to the Sun God, his wife and finally the newly initiated youngest brother. The special cake the sheep eat is likely a reference to the round cakes made especially to honor the Sun God in religious ceremonies. In his book Indo-European Poetry and Myth, M. L. West surmises that such cakes might originally have been symbols of the sun itself.

The most delightful figures in this fairy tale are the sheep. They straddle parallel universes: the familiar world and an otherworldly realm beyond the wild river. Crossing a river is often a metaphor for dying in folktales (See Crossing to Remagen, link at right). At the very least the river crossing in this tale signals a transition into another spiritual dimension. The sheep seem to represent guardian angels or beings whose function is to assist mortals reach higher spiritual enlightenment, possibly a sort of heaven or the afterworld. In a delightful reversal of roles, it is the sheep who act as shepherds, coaxing and prodding the three brothers. They undergo a physical transformation as they cross the threshold of the chapel, which might actually be a metaphor for an unseen spiritual metamorphosis (or might even suggest a physical resurrection after death). However one reads the story, these sheep are indeed indispensable companions and guides.

At the end of the tale the grieving mother is granted a visit with her departed daughter. But when the girl vanishes for always, we presume her new role is too important for earth visits and she can no longer be bothered with the concerns of mortals. It would be interesting to find out what happens to her youngest brother, the one whose initiation facilitated by the sheep brought about the reunion in the first place. Has he become a priest on earth, ministering to mortals, or does he now inhabit the realm across the river? Only the Sun Prince knows for sure.

To read a fairy tale about the peaceable kingdom of animals:

http://www.fairytalechannel.com/2009/11/peaceable-kingdom-of-fairy-tales.htm

To read more fairy tales FairyTaleChannel.com
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Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Fairy Tale of the Sun Prince



The Wonderful and Strange Fairy Tale of the Sun Prince
(A fairy tale from the Merino region of Switzerland)


A long time ago there lived a father and mother with their four children, a grown girl and three small boys. The father wanted to marry off his daughter to someone he liked. But because his daughter refused, he wanted to kill her.

One day the maiden told her mother she should look and see what was written on the wall of her bedroom. When the mother entered her daughter’s chamber, she found an inscription on the wall “Your daughter is my bride and I am the Sun Prince.” When the mother returned to the parlor, her daughter had vanished. The Sun Prince had taken her.

From that day on, the mother was deeply troubled and cried most of the time. The three brothers noticed this as they grew older. They begged their mother to say why she was so sad. After they had learned the fate of their sister, they could not find a moment’s rest. The oldest son took the prettiest horse in their stable and went out looking for the Sun Prince. After a very long trip he arrived at a large dwelling, where he tied the horse next to the door. A woman emerged and she said he should bring his horse into the stable. Horses were not tolerated near the door.

After the youth took his horse to the adjacent stable, the woman asked what kind of trip he was undertaking. “I must go to look for my sister, who married the Sun Prince!”

“Then you are my brother,” the woman replied and hugged him. Both went to the Sun Prince, and the brother asked permission for his sister to visit their home so that she could visit their mother one last time. “I will allow it,” the Sun Prince replied, “If you tend my sheep an entire day. But as sign that you have watched them, in the evening you must bring me what the sheep have eaten during the day.”

The youth thought “That won’t be difficult!” And early the next morning he went out into the fields with the sheep of the Sun Prince. Soon the herd came to a very deep valley. The sheep crossed the river flowing through the valley floor without difficulty. But the youth did not know how to cross the river. When the sheep saw from the other bank, that the shepherd stayed back, they sent two older sheep to fetch him. They motioned to the shepherd that he was to hold tightly to their tails. But the shepherd was afraid and did not dare do what the sheep commanded. By evening, he was still on the same side of the valley and when the sheep returned, he plucked some grass and put it in his sack, because he thought that was what the sheep must have eaten on the other side of the river. When they arrived at the house of the Sun Prince, the sheep first bowed to the Sun Prince, then to the wife and lastly to the shepherd, who then showed the Prince the grass in his bag. “My sheep don’t eat that!” the Prince cried loudly and the youth sadly returned home.

The second brother decided to see what would happen to him if he tended the herd of the Sun Prince. But he, too, did not have the courage to hold tightly to the tail of the sheep and stayed back.

In the evening he plucked several leaves, placed them in his sack and brought them to the Sun Prince. When the Sun Prince saw this, he said “You did not tend the sheep and must return home without your sister!”

Because this brother also returned home without his sister, it was left to the youngest brother to try to bring back his sister. After a trip lasting many days and years, he arrived at the dwelling of the Sun Prince, where he endeavored to tie his horse to the post. When the Sun Prince heard what he wanted, he made the same proposal as he had to his brothers. At the first light of morning the youth went out with the sheep. But when he came to the stream in the valley, he let the old sheep guide him through the water to the far side.

On the far side of the water, the youth saw the sheep entering a chapel and as they crossed the doorway, they were all transformed into humans. Once inside the chapel they all celebrated mass. After the service, they entered a nearby inn and ate a celebratory feast. The youth could see what wonderful and delicious food the sheep ate. He tried a bit of the best cake and placed it in his sack. When he returned home with his herd that evening, two old sheep once again pulled him safely through the river. When they arrived home, the herd first bowed to the youth and then to the Sun Prince and then to his wife. After the youth showed the Sun Prince the cake, he and his sister were immediately brought home the following morning and stayed until evening. When the sun went down, she vanished for always.

To read more about the Sun Prince:
http://www.fairytalechannel.com/2009/09/reading-writing-on-wall-my-husband-is.html

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Saturday, May 16, 2009

Swiss Fairy Tale of Zawudschawu, the Night Horse


Strange Steeds in Switzerland

Fairy Tale of Zawudschawu, the Night Horse


Many monsters were said to inhabit the mountains and valleys in times of old. In Sitten, a town in the Wallis region of Switzerland, a three-legged steed was often seen prancing through the streets in the bright moon light. And in the soft swamplands surrounding the city, the wild horse Zawudschawu could often be seen grazing at night. His coat was an iridescent milk-white but his wild mane and long tail were as white as the driven snow. If a brittle old hag wandered out of the village and lost her way in the moor, it might happen that the horse approached at a proud trot. Lowering itself carefully, it would invite the old person to sit on its back. Barely situated there, the horse would hasten home. But the horse was not always so gracious and trustworthy. Sometimes it played mean tricks. One evening a man, who had quenched his thirst a bit too much that evening, was wandering home from the tavern. He was tired and also his legs were unsteady. Fatigued, he sat down on a large stone near the bridge and thought to himself “If only an old nag would come trotting by to take me home.”

He had hardly formed the thought when he heard the approach of a horse; turning he saw the pale-white steed. It bowed and lowered itself gently and even nodded its head in an inviting way. The man did not hesitate nor did he wonder who the owner might be of such a magnificent steed. Rather clumsily he mounted the horse but once sitting on the horse’s back, the steed got up carefully and moved away. Thus encouraged, the man promised it good feed and sugar bread as reward for taking him home.

Soon the man saw his village and the roof of his house illuminated by the full moon. He smiled remembering his soft feather bed and urged the horse on with a gentle kick in its side. The horse responded by jumping jerkily, almost catapulting the rider into the air. He gripped its mane terrified as the horse began a wild gallop. The white mane whipped back by the wind nearly blinded the man. He implored the horse to return to the rightful path but instead it crashed through the swamp and continued on to the river.

Now the rider was seized by a veritable premonition of death. He screamed and tried to turn the wild horse around by pulling violently on its mane. But the horse pulled away and he could hardly stay mounted. They quickly reached the treacherous banks of the river where its rolling waves menaced. But in the last second the horse turned as quick as lightening. Its rider flew into the whirling waters and was carried downstream. The horse neighed as if laughing, turned around and ran back in the direction of the moor.

The rider was only able to save himself with the utmost exertion. As he returned home soaked to the bone, he knew he had encountered the wild steed Zawudschawu. The cold bath in the river had a sobering effect on the man and he never again visited the tavern.

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Friday, March 13, 2009

Swiss Fairy Tale: The Gnome Wife Tirli-Wirli

In these fairy tales, some words must never be spoken.

In Switzerland a farmhand married Tirli-wirli, the daughter of a gnome. One day she asked him to promise never to call her by name and he agreed. In June he went out to work in the fields and when he came home late that evening, his wife said she had had a difficult time that day. She expected frost that night and had therefore cut and secured the young, green corn. The man became enraged and yelled: “You silly Tirli-Wirli!” He had barely spoken the words when she walked out the door and vanished. That night a heavy frost did indeed fall, ruining the plants of all the neighbors.

Now the man had three children, whom he had to leave at home when he went out to work. Every morning their mother returned and washed and combed the children’s hair so that the father, when he returned found the rooms clean and the children properly cared for. He asked who was doing this because he locked the door and hid the key every day. The children cried that it was their mother who did everything. The father sorely missed his wife and he would have begged her to return if she had shown herself. He told the children they should ask their mother how she managed to enter a locked house.

When the children asked their mother, she replied she knew where the key was hidden. The unfortunate father now asked a friend to lay in watch and when his wife entered the house, he was to close the door and call him. This happened and the father rushed home and begged his wife for forgiveness. Now they have lived several years happily together.


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