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Friday, February 2, 2024
Monday, December 18, 2023
A fairy tale for Christmas: When the Stars Fell From Heaven
When the stars fell from heaven.
Sterntaler
There was once a small girl, whose father and mother were dead. The girl was so poor that she didn’t have a room to live in or a bed to sleep in and finally had no more than the clothes on her back and one little piece of bread in her hand, which a compassionate soul had given her. But the girl was good and pious. And because the child had been abandoned by the entire world, she went out to the fields, trusting she would meet dear God. The girl met a poor man, who said “Oh, give me something to eat, I am so hungry.” The girl gave him an entire piece of bread and said “God bless you and yours,” and continued walking. The girl came to a child who was crying and said “I am freezing and my head is so cold, give me something to cover it.” The girl took off her cap and gave it to the child. And after the girl had walked a while, she met another child who didn’t have a wrap and was freezing: the girl gave it her wrap; and then a bit further another child asked for the girl’s jacket, she also gave it to him. Finally she reached the forest and it was already dark. A child came and asked for her shirt and the pious girl thought “It is darkest night, no one will see you, you can give him your shirt,” and she took off her shirt and also gave it away. And as she stood there and had nothing left in the world, the stars fell from heaven and they were hard, shiny coins: and although the girl had just given away her little shift, she had a new one and this one was made of the finest linen. She collected the coins and was rich all the days of her life.
FairyTaleChannel.com
Thursday, December 7, 2023
Christmas Spirits Haunt the Land: From Switzerland: the Wild Tuerst and Straeggele of Christmas Tide
From Switzerland: the Wild Tuerst and Straeggele of Christmas Tide
In ancient times a beautiful daughter of a rich man lived in the Entlibuch in the hill country outside of Luzerne. True, she had both beauty and riches, but the townspeople did not like her. It was because she led a wild, unseemly life. Instead of behaving properly like other girls, the young maid whistled through her fingers, called out to her hunting dog and then blew into her horn. Early in the morning she took off in hot pursuit of all manner of wild animals. Deer and stag, even the ferocious wolf fled from her when she, raving, shouting and waving her spear, entered the forest. Then her dog bellowed and from every mountain crevice came a terrifying echo.
The years passed in this manner and soon the wild maid no longer went to church. While other people were called to mass when the church bells rang, she took up the spear and ran with her dog into the forest to hunt wild beasts. The town folk all shook their heads and said things would end badly for her. The demonic Tuerst would come and fetch the wanton maid, they murmured, when it flew through the forest like the storm wind.
One Christmas Eve there was a knock at the door where the rich daughter of Entlibach resided. When the servant opened he saw a young, slim man standing at the gate who asked for a night’s lodging. In the morning he said he would go out with the maid on a friendly hunt. Both man and maid servant recoiled when they heard these words, but they had to allow the late guest to enter the house, even if he did not appear to be a knight.
The beautiful daughter greeted the man with a loud “hello”. He replied that he loved the hunt above everything else. And so it was decided that the next morning the two would set out on Holy Christmas Eve to undertake a wolf hunt in the nearby mountain forest. The girl did indeed notice that the lean knight had not said from where he came, but she did not think long about it. The main thing was that she had found a handsome and agile hunting partner for the following day.
The next morning when the bells in the church tower rang out, villagers came from all around. All but the strange knight. He said to the maiden: “Leave these people, let them go to the church. Come! We shall go out on the hunt!”
So they were of good cheer, laughing and carousing, equipped with spear and bow, they went out into the night accompanied only by the maid’s hunting dog. On their way to mass, the church folk passed the wild pair and watched how the revelers disappeared in the forest.
It was not long before they were deep within the dark wood. The maid was just about to take her spear and fling it after a deer, when her strange hunting companion gripped her raised arm and said in an icy voice and with eyes that burned through her like fire: “It is true I hunt the beasts of the forest, but you have never once listened to your conscience. You have committed sacrilege against God! Now you are mine and shall be like me! You shall fill people full of terror!”
He stretched upward and grew and grew into a giant. In revulsion the maid recognized that it was the Wild Tuerst. She screamed, she ran, how gladly she would have run into the church! But it was too late. The huntsman grew in size without stopping. She, too, grew alongside the fearsome hunter, until she was taller than the trees. The barking dog next to her also grew until he had become a monster. At once the wild Tuerst began to storm across hill and dale, until it finally seemed as if all the wild creatures in the forest were raging.
The villagers, who were still making their way to church, witnessed the procession of these giant figures. They saw in the pale light how a dark abyss opened in the ground, and how it then swallowed the Tuerst and the Straeggele.
After that Christmas Eve when the wild maid did not return home, word of her fate spread among the villagers. The Tuerst had fetched the Straeggele and the pair would now have to go out hunting until judgment day. For many years on starry winter evenings when the wind whistled around the houses, the villagers often saw two shadowy giants with their dog storming across the bleak sky. And if they heard a bell ring somewhere in the distance, they said it was the Straeggle – maid. But then the Tuerst only blew harder into his horn so that the villagers had to pull the coverlets over their eyes and hide in terror.
And they are still heard to this day.
Read more fairy tales by clicking on the link:
Monday, October 30, 2023
A Very Scary Story
A child lived on the third floor of an old house on a very busy street. It wasn’t the top-most story of the house because there was still an old attic above. When the wind howled, the ceiling above the little bed creaked and when the rain beat against the windowpane it sounded like soft groans or moans, or even worse, whimpering. And so this child was often a bit chary at night if it rained before bedtime. Hoping to delay the inevitable, the child would say “Nanna, might I stay up a bit longer?” “Of course not, child!” Nanna would reply. “But I hear frightful sounds when it rains!” the child said. “Nonsense,” Nanna would answer “you only hear the wind and the rain, or the carriages outside or people on the sidewalks talking rather loudly.” And so this child had to go to bed just like any other night when the sky was clear and the moon shone brightly above.
It was an afternoon in October when a frightful storm descended on the old house and very busy street. The child peered through the window and saw people still out and about, dogs barking and carriages rolling by as usual. It was as if NO ONE CARED ABOUT THE CRUEL RAIN that lashed the windowpanes! And then: more lightning, thunder, surges of rain and wind. “I truly do not want to go upstairs to bed this night with the storm so loud. My ceiling already creaks on very calm nights!”
“Nanna, I shan’t go to bed. There is a creaker up there.”
“There is no such thing as a creaker,” Nanna replied.
“Then it’s a shrieker,” the child protested.
“Shriekers only live in the forest, not in the middle of a busy street!”
“Let me tell you about shriekers,” the old woman said. “Then you will know the difference!”
And this is what her Nanna told her:
“In the district called Spreng a ghost or spirit resided, who made all kinds of shrieking noises, like the sounds of deer, fox, donkey, swine or other animals, even every type of bird. For this reason, the people called him the shrieker. He has led many astray and no one dares linger in this meadow, especially herders.” This is what the mayor recently encountered when he was walking at night in his meadow in Spreng. He had used up all the water for watering his herd when a pig squealed in the little woods on the Langenbrombach side. It screeched as if a knife were stuck in its throat. The ghost has been seen as far as the Holler Forest, where they used to burn charcoal seventeen years ago. The coal burners complained bitterly at the time that many had been frightened by this ghost because he appeared in the form of a donkey. The deceased Johann Peter Weber said the same thing. He had loaded coal there at night to take it to the Michelstadt Hammer. Heinrich Germann, the old mayor of the Zent stated that when he was once tending his oxen in the Spreng field, it was as if a fox ran at him, but when he beat him away with the whip, the fox immediately vanished."
Now that’s a scary night!
Sunday, February 12, 2023
Thursday, January 12, 2023
Fairy Tale of St. Brendan and the Leviathan
When they drew nigh to the nearest island, the boat stopped ere they reached a landing-–place; and the saint ordered the brethren to get out into the sea, and make the vessel fast, stem and stern, until they came to some harbour; there was no grass on the island, very little wood, and no sand on the shore. While the brethren spent the night in prayer outside the vessel, the saint remained in it, for he knew well what manner of island was this; but he wished not to tell the brethren, lest they might be too much afraid. When morning dawned, he bade the priests to celebrate Mass, and after they had done so, and he himself had said Mass in the boat, the brethren took out some un–cooked meat and fish they had brought from the other island, and put a cauldron on a fire to cook them, After they had placed more fuel on the fire, and the cauldron began to boil, the island moved about like a wave; whereupon they all rushed towards the boat, and im–plored the protection of their father, who, taking each one by the hand, drew them all into the vessel; then relinquishing what they had removed to the island, they cast their boat loose, to sail away, when the island at once sunk into the ocean.
Afterwards they could see the fire they had kindled still burning more than two miles off, and then Brendan explained the occurrence: ‘Brethren, you wonder at what has happened to this island,’ ‘Yes, father,’ said they: ‘we wondered, and were seized with a great fear.’ ‘Fear not, my children,’ said the saint, ‘for God has last night revealed to me the mystery of all this; it was not an island you were upon, but a fish, the largest of all that swim in the ocean, which is ever trying to make its head and tail meet, but cannot succeed, because of its great length. Its name is Iasconius.’
FairyTaleChannel.com
Saturday, December 31, 2022
Saturday, December 24, 2022
Christmas Carols, Trees and Hauntings
Christmas: a Time of Carols, Trees and Hauntings
Christmas trees figure prominently in modern celebrations of the season. However the custom of illuminating a fir tree and bringing it into the house is probably based on a pre-Christian tradition that extends deep into the distant past. Before Europe was widely Christianized, pagan celebrations marked the winter solstice in December. Many of the traditions from these long-forgotten celebrations were subsequently absorbed by the Christmas holiday which displaced them. Legends and fairy tales contain remnants of these long-forgotten pagan customs but they have been blended with the gospel narrative and are barely recognizable today. There are common markers of these older traditions in fairy tales, saga and even Christmas carols, which include a reverence for fir trees and also branches, in particular blossoms or fruit springing forth from dead wood often during the deep midwinter or at time near the winter solstice; the offering of gifts; miracles or legends associated with animals in forest or field; processions and lighted candles; strange lights and spooks; hauntings of all sorts and augering the future; but most importantly accounts of incredible transformations when linked to one of the saints but especially the Virgin Mary. (to read more, hit the Christmas Saints link at right). At this time of year the fir tree, hazel branch and lily became associated with Saint Mary and all three appear in many tales of the season (see Grimm’s Saga, the Hazel Branch). It is assumed that the Virgin was replacing an older pagan deity who was similar to her in temperament and importance and that the plants themselves were believed to have certain powers. German Christmas carols may also reflect this blending of Christian and pre-Christian sentiment and I think the carol Oh Tannenbaum is a good example. Provided below is a more literal translation of the popular song that was written around 1820, which has a slightly different emphasis than the more common version:
Oh Christmas Tree (Oh Fir Tree) (Text ca. 1820)
(The evergreen as symbol of life continuing on during the harsh winter months.)
Hit the following link to hear this carol sung in German and English:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=56FnDj-_bJI
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=56FnDj-_bJI
1. Oh fir tree, Oh fir tree
How true are your leaves!
You not only bloom in summer,
But also in winter when it’s snowing.
O fir tree, Oh fir tree,
How true are your leaves.
2. Oh fir tree, Oh fir tree
How you please me! (Or: How I love you!)
How often at Christmas time,
Oh tree, have you delighted me!
O fir tree, Oh fir tree,
How you please me.
3. Oh fir tree, Oh fir tree
Your leaves shall teach me:
Hope and constancy
Give me comfort and strength always.
Oh fir tree, Oh fir tree,
Your leaves shall teach me.
Saint Barbara is also one of the saints mentioned at Christmas time. Her feast day is December 4th and in the following German song, the miracle of winter transformation is celebrated in the form of dead twigs (for another “dead twig legend” see Grimm’s Saga No. 349: Image of Mercy in the Larch Branch at Waldrast provided under the link Three Legends of the Virgin Mary).
German Christmas Carol: I broke off three barren branches. (Ich brach drei duerre Reiselein)
1. I broke off three barren branches
from the dead hazel bush,
I placed them in an earthen jar,
warm was the water, too.
2. On Saint Barbara’s Feast Day,
I broke the twigs away.
Christmas, it came,
and with it the miracle.
3. Soon two little branches burst into bloom,
and they blossomed on Christmas Eve.
I broke off the third twig,
and my heart also blossomed anew.
4. I broke off three barren branches,
from the hard hazel bush.
God let them turn green, it thrives,
just like our own lives.
Another favorite German tree carol, or rather, life-springing-forth-from-stump carol (Es ist ein Ros entsprungen):
An older arrangement of the same tune, capturing the mystery but perhaps even the spookiness of the season:
Perhaps the most poignant story of all is the Singing Fir Tree, my favorite tale for the Christmas season, which features the Virgin Mary and a sort of transformation in reverse, the mystery of going from something living to something seemingly dead, but ultimately still living on.
And here is a carol of Mary (Maria durch ein Dornwald ging), the setting is a thorny forest landscape. it is hauntingly beautiful and I think a wonderful backdrop for reading the legend of the Singing Fir Tree:
The Singing Fir Tree, a Swiss Fairy Tale
In Switzerland, a story is told about a man named Hans Kreutz, who lived with his wife on Thun Lake in Ralligen. In the year 1555, a thick black fog descended on the village and it would not dissipate. The alarmed villagers retreated to their homes, closed doors and sealed the windows tightly. But a light blue vapor crept under the window sill and the wife breathed in this vapor and in the evening she lay in bed motionless. Hans looked into her eyes and saw no reflection there and in the morning she was dead.
Many villagers died that year and the survivors buried their loved ones in the church yard at the outskirts of town, where the mountain and forest swept down abruptly into the valley. While the bells in the church tower were ringing, Hans buried his wife and returned home. For days he did not leave his house. He neither ate nor slept but could not forget the vacant stare of his beloved wife and the sound of the church bells as he lowered her into the grave.
One evening when Hans sat by the fire, he heard the church bells ring out the Ave and they rang and rang and he lost track of the time. He raised his head, for he thought he heard wonderful and sweet singing up high in the Hohlbach Forest near the tree line. But when the church bells stopped ringing, he heard it no more. The next day he sat with longing and waited for the evening church bells to ring out the Ave. At first he heard only the faintest sound of distant singing, but then the melody grew stronger until there could be no mistake. A woman’s voice sang a mysterious and beautiful song, the words of which he could not quite decipher.
But Hans spread word among the townspeople. At night the entire village listened while the church bells rang and soon everyone heard the wonderful singing daily. The singing was soothing and the villagers listened at the edge of the village until the snow began to fall and then they returned to their homes. All but Hans, who wanted to know where the singing came from. The next night when the church bells were ringing, the villagers assembled in the church yard. Hans lit a torch and climbed the mountainside, following the mysterious melody. He did this every evening until one night he finally found a giant fir tree, and its voice was sweet and clear. He shyly gazed upon the tree and in amazement listened to its gentle song.
But Hans could find no rest. The singing fir tree occupied his waking and sleeping hours and he wanted to be in the presence of its song always. In secret he climbed up the mountain during the day and spent long hours near the tree. Some time passed and Hans was called away to visit his family in the next valley.
While he was away, a wood carver from among the villagers, who had seen the beautiful fir tree, decided he needed it to make a wood carving. Because the tree was so magnificent, tall and straight, with perfectly formed branches and trunk, he had it felled and brought down to the valley. From the wood, he selected an enormous block of the trunk that had no scars or branches. From this piece of wood he began to carve an image of the Virgin Mary. He worked day and night on this carving and saw nothing more beautiful than the image of the Virgin growing out of the wood. And after some time, the villagers came to his workshop and marveled at the beauty of the image, its heavenly countenance and mild authority.
When Hans returned to the village after some months, he climbed the mountain and went directly to where the singing fir tree had stood. In its place was only a stump and Hans was gripped by such melancholy, that a loud moan issued from his lips. It was like the howling of a wounded wolf or the shriek of an eagle flying overhead. The loud cries filled the valley, echoing off the cliffs and rocks. When the villagers heard the loud cries from above, they gathered below near the church. And soon in the distance they heard the beautiful, long-missed song. They turned and saw the woodcarver, carrying his statue and saw that it was singing. He placed the statue in the church, where it stands today. And some say, they have heard it singing when a loved one dies. The place where the tree once stood is now called Marienstein. There is a smaller rock nearby, where Hans once gazed upon the fir tree. It is said that in his grief, Hans turned to stone and the place is now called the Kreutzantisch.
The Singing Fir Tree Copyright FairyTaleChannel.com
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Please do not plagiarize, copy or pilfer. Thanks!)
Tuesday, December 13, 2022
Christmas Visions, Saints and Lovers in Fairy Tales
Christmas Visions, Saints and Lovers in Fairy Tales
(St. Andrew fisher-of-men.)
According to popular belief, St. Andrew’s Day (November 30th ) is the first prognostication or fate day of the year. The evening before (St. Andrew's Eve) was especially propitious for having visions of one’s future true love. Other so-called fate days occurred soon thereafter and included Saint Thomas’ Eve (12/21), Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve. Popular tradition identifies St. Andrew as the patron saint of fishermen and lovers. How Saint Andrew became revered as the protector of lovers is a bit murky. It was perhaps his propensity to receive or induce his own revelations that inspired young maids to claim him as their own. And as Jesus’ appointed fisher-of-men, Andrew might have had a romantic appeal as the protector of those who would rather cast their nets for human prey.
There are purportedly many ways to celebrate St. Andrew’s Eve. The simplest way is to gaze into a fire or mirror and say a special Andrew prayer; then wait for the face of one’s true love to appear. Other methods involved throwing shoes or shirts and interpreting how they fall, praying to the saint fervently and then falling asleep to receive a vision of love or melting wax or lead, dropping it into water and interpreting the odd shapes. One tradition likens lovers to barking dogs. (Perhaps in the belief that where there is bark there is most likely a swain. ) Grimm’s Saga No. 115 explains this folk tradition best but also makes clear that like all things concerning love, augering the future is not for the faint of heart.
Grimm’s Saga No. 115. Andreas Eve (or St. Andrew's Eve)
It is a common belief that on Andreas Eve, Thomas Eve, Christmas Eve or New Year’s Eve a maid can invite her future lover to come to her and reveal himself to her. The girl must set a table for two but without any forks. Whatever the lover leaves behind after departing must be carefully preserved. He will then return to the person who keeps this lost item and will love that person mightily. But he must never see this lost object again, because then he will be tortured and suffer from such overwhelming pain that he will become aware that magic has been employed and a great misfortune will befall the lovers.
A beautiful lass in Austria wanted to see her true love at midnight and performed the usual customs whereby a shoemaker appeared with a dagger, threw it at her and then vanished quickly. She picked up the thrown dagger and locked it in her little chest. Soon the shoemaker came and courted her. Many years after their marriage she once went to her chest on a Sunday after vespers. She was looking for something she needed for the next days’s work. When she opened the chest, her husband came and wanted to look inside. She stopped him but he pushed her away with force. Looking into the chest he saw his lost dagger. He seized the blade and wanted to know how she came to have it because he had lost it some time ago. In fear and confusion she could not think of a reply, instead, she acknowledged it was the same dagger he had left with her in the night she wanted to see her lover. The man became furious and spoke a terrible curse: “Harlot, you are the lass who frightened me so inhumanely that night!” and he plunged the dagger into her heart.
This legend is told in many different places by many different people. Oral tradition: the story is told about a hunter, who relinquished his knife; soon after childbirth his wife asked him to fetch her little sewing box and wasn’t thinking that he would find the magic utensil inside. But he found it and killed her with it.
(*Protoclete: the "first called", Andrew was Jesus' first disciple)
The three patron saints of lovers:
Germany = Saint Andrew (Feast Day Nov. 29/30), Eastern Orthodox Church = St. Hyacinthus (Feast Day July 3), Western Church = St. Valentine (Feast Day February 14)
More Christmas fairy tales can be found by clicking on the links:
http://christmasfairytales.blogspot.com/2009/12/fairies-and-gnomes-christmas-party.html
http://christmasfairytales.blogspot.com/2009/12/christmas-fairy-tale-trolls-of-winter.html
Translation Copyright FairyTaleChannel.com
Saturday, November 5, 2022
Monday, June 6, 2022
Reading the Pied Piper of Hamelin
Reading the Pied Piper of Hamelin
In the Pied Piper of Hamelin we find the elements of playing music and processing down to a river (and immersing oneself in the water) to eradicate pestilence. The figure charged with the expulsion of rats and mice is distinctly pagan. He uses magic and music to take control of the rats first and children second. He is a wandering rogue of a most peculiar sort. His clothing and visage are described in some detail. His coat of many colors is reminiscent of that other famous wanderer in Germanic mythology, Woton (as called by Southern Germanic tribes) or Odin (as called by Northern Germanic tribes). Woton traditionally wears a blue cloak with golden flecks and broad hat. The Germanic God Woton underwent many transformations at the hands of Christian priests, who attempted to Christianize the deity. Wotan alternately became the Archangel Michael, the Holy St. Martin, the Wild Huntsman and finally the devil. In his role as Wild Huntsman, Wotan was said to lead a fearsome procession that raced through the air and lasted 12 days. Other pagan figures lead similar parades or processions including Frau Holla and True Eckhart, and Tannhäuser and Frau Venus. These duos always have the same destination: the inside of a mountain. In many folk tales and saga, entering a mountain as part of a procession is actually a metaphor
for dying (see Gratzug). In fact there were many mountains throughout Europe that were considered sacred to Woton (Othensberg, Odensberg, Godesberg, Gudenesberg and Wodenesberg to name a few).
There are sagas and legends from the Middle Ages which reflect the dismay and even anger of the deposed deities toward the rising power and prestige of Christian intruders. Tannhäuser and Frau Venus are perhaps the most well-known examples. But is it possible to interpret the tantalizing character of the Pied Piper and the disappearance of 130 children within the context of an enraged (and perhaps, dislodged) deity?
This extraordinary tale reads like an historical narrative with eye-witness accounts to bolster its veracity. I am inclined to view the story as a cautionary tale to a population wavering between the older pagan belief and the newer Christian belief systems. Participating in pagan revelry, with its gods, music, dancing and wildness, can have dire consequences. The old deities are no longer mourning their loss of status, but ready to take revenge. At the end of the tale, a ban on music is imposed and presumably the pagan revelry and festivities that accompanied it. But the surface message of the tale is also quite clear. The mendacity of town leaders contradicts the Gospel message that “a laborer is worthy of his hire.”
The mountain where the children disappeared has been renamed Calvary, or the Place of the Skull (Köppen = obsolete German word for head or skull). As Europe became Christianized, it was common to rename pagan sites to give them Christian significance. Calvary or site of the Crucifixion would be a fitting name for a place of great tragedy. After reading this tale it is easy to imagine that the story is based on a folk memory of a tragic event involving the loss of children.
Ancient Bone and Ivory Flutes
The Pied Piper is playing one of the oldest known musical instruments: the flute or pipe. Archaeologists have found numerous flutes fashioned from bone or ivory throughout Germany and Switzerland. At the Cloister in Müstair, Switzerland, archaeologists found two bone flutes which they have dated to the Carolingian period and two from the 11th/12th and 14th centuries. They are made from the tibia bone of a sheep or goat and have three finger holes. These Müstair flutes are capable of producing a five-tone or eight-tone scale respectively.
A flute that is believed to be between 30,000 – 37,000 years old was found in pieces in the Geissenkloesterle Cave in Southern Germany. It was made in the Upper Paleolithic Era, a time when Europe was occupied by the last Neanderthals and the first modern humans. This flute was carved from solid ivory and was capable of playing relatively sophisticated tunes. Based on experiments, it seems the flute followed the pentatonic scale.
The sound of these flutes was shaped by human breath. After singing, playing the flute was the most immediate form of communication. Because of its special sound and shape, the flute was also used in religious and cultic ceremonies. The music of the flute or pipe was said to have magical and healing properties. The shepherd played the pipe to calm his flock and keep them together. And in the saga, the Pied Piper uses the magical tones of the flute to exercise control over both animals and humans. The ancient Greeks mistrusted flute music as being overly powerful and seductive and according to Indian tradition, when Lord Krishna played his flute, listeners forgot their individuality and were drawn irresistibly to the music.
Grimm's Saga Number 245: The Pied Piper of Hamelin
To read more about the Pied Piper of Hameln:
http://www.fairytalechannel.com/2008/07/reading-pied-piper-of-hamelin.html
Read more fairy tales and saga:
Copyright FairyTaleChannel.com
(Please read, enjoy, link to or pass this story on to friends. Please do not plagiarize, copy or pilfer. Thanks!)
Wednesday, December 15, 2021
The Wild Ghosts of Christmas
Grimm’s Saga No. 270: The Tuerst, the Posterli and the Straeggele, the Wild Ghosts of Christmas
When the storm howls and rages in the woods at night, people in Lucerne say: “The Tuerst (or Thirst) is on the prowl!” In Entlebuch they know this spirit as the Posterli. He is a demon, who leads an enormous procession on the Thursday before Christmas Day, with frightful noise and loud clanging sounds. The people of Lucerne call this ghost the Straeggele, a witch, who on the Holy Wednesday Fast Night before Christmas haunts the landscape. She brings special trouble to maids who have not spun their daily portion of flax, exacting punishment in many different ways. That is why this evening is also call the Straeggele Night.
Copyright FairyTaleChannel.com
Monday, November 15, 2021
The Little Shepherd Boy, a fairy tale from the Brothers Grimm
The Little Shepherd Boy
A shepherd boy was known far and wide for the wise answers he gave to every question. The king of the realm heard about this but did not believe it, so he had the boy brought to him. “If you can provide an answer to three questions I will ask of you I will look upon you as my own son and you will come to live with me in my royal palace.”
The little boy spoke “What are the three questions?” The king replied “The first question is how many drops of water there are in the oceans of the world?”
The shepherd boy replied “Your excellency, plug all the rivers of the world so that not a droplet more than what I have counted can flow into the ocean, then I will tell you how many drops of water there are in the sea.”
The king answered “The next question is: How many stars are in the heavens?”
The shepherd boy replied “Give me a sheet of white paper, and then with your quill splash so many dark spots that you can barely see how many there are and can’t count them because your eyes become cloudy looking upon them.” Then he said “As many stars are in heaven as on this paper, count them!” But no one was able to.
The king said “The third question is how many seconds are in eternity?”
The shepherd boy replied “The Demant Mountain lies in Western Pomerania. It is an hour high, an hour wide and an hour deep. Every hundred years a little bird comes and sharpens its beak there and when the mountain has been worn away the first second of eternity will have passed.”
The king replied “You have answered the three questions like a wiseman;
from here on you shall live in my royal palace and I will view you as my own
son.”
Translation Copyright FairyTaleChannel.com
Wednesday, August 18, 2021
The Butterfly, a fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen
The Butterfly
A fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen
A butterfly longed to find a bride; so of course it sought a pretty one amongst the flowers. It inspected an entire meadow full but found that each bloom sat quietly and respectably on its stalk (exactly as is fitting for a young maiden when she is not yet engaged). The only problem was that there were so many flowers and the huge selection threatened to become overwhelming.
The butterfly did not like exerting all this effort. That is why he flew to visit the daisies. The French call this flower “Margerite” because they know that the Margerite can prophesy the future. And this the flower gladly does, if a lover pulls out each petal one by one, while asking a question about his or her intended true love: “Does she love me from the bottom of her heart? – Love so deep, it causes pain? – Does he love me truly? – A little? -- Not at all? –“ These and many other questions the flower will gladly answer.
The butterfly came to the Margerite to ask his question. But he did not pull off the petals. Instead he pressed a kiss onto each little bud. He did this because he reasoned, he would get much farther by showing good will. “Margerite, best of all blooms!” he said to the flower. “You are the smartest woman among all the flowers. You can foretell the future. Please, please tell me, shall I win her or another? Which one shall be my bride? When I know the answer, I will fly straight away to her and ask for her hand in marriage.”
But the Margerite Daisy did not respond. She was angry that he had called her a “woman”, when in fact she was a young maiden. There is a difference! He asked a second and third time. When the flower remained silent and would not utter a single word, he decided not to linger any longer and flew away to find his own bride. It was the last days of spring. All around the snowdrops and crocuses bloomed. “They are all very nice indeed,” the butterfly thought. But they are all small fish! Then he flew to the anemones. They were a little too bitter. The violets a bit too effusive. The tulips were too proud. The narcissus too domestic. The lime blossoms were too small and had too many relatives. The apple blossoms, they were as beautiful as roses, but here today, gone tomorrow, depending on how the wind was blowing. The pea blossoms pleased him the most. They were red and white, delicate and fine. They were like good domestic help: pleasant to look at and great in the kitchen. He was just about to ask one to be his bride when he spied a dried-out pod standing nearby, from its tip hung an old blossom. “Who is that?” he asked. “It is my sister,” the pea flower replied. “Aha! Later she will look exactly the same!” he exclaimed and fled because her appearance startled him.
Spring passed and summer also ended. Now it was autumn, but the butterfly was still indecisive. Now the flowers all appeared in their finest gowns – but it was all for naught! They were all lacking the fresh, balmy scent of youth. A fragrant aroma is what the heart longs for when it is no longer young. The butterfly now flew to the mum and aster, but there were few to be found. So finally he settled on some crinkly mint. “The mint has no blossom, but its entire being is bud! It is fragrant from top to bottom and emits a flower’s perfume in every blade. I will take the mint as bride!” said the butterfly. And so, he asked the mint for her hand in marriage. But the crinkly mint stood there stiffly and listened silently. Finally it said “We can be friends, but not more than that! I am old and you are old. We can live and help each other, even amuse each other. But marry? Never!”
And so the butterfly did not marry. He had waited too long, and one should never do that! And so the butterfly remained a confirmed bachelor.
Soon it was late autumn with rain and dark weather. The wind blew cold over the backs of the old willow trees and the branches groaned. It wasn’t the type of weather to fly about in one’s summer outfit! But the butterfly wasn’t flying outside anymore. He had managed to fly into a house, where the logs in the oven burned so brightly and it was as warm as a summer’s day. He considered whether or not he could live in such a cozy little room. “Merely living is not enough!” He finally said. “Sunshine, freedom and a small flower are what I require!” And he flew against the windowpane. The children all came running, admired him, then stuck him through with a needle and placed him in their box of treasures. Nothing else could be done for the fellow now.
“Here I sit, pricked through by this needle instead of sitting on a flower!” the butterfly sighed. “This truly is not very pleasant! It must be what it’s like to be married, you are stuck to one spot!” And so he tried to console himself.
“That’s cold comfort, indeed,” said the houseplant on the windowsill. “But,” the butterfly thought to himself “One can’t really trust a houseplant. They spend far too much time among people!”
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Sunday, January 24, 2021
How the Cuckoo Came to Call, a Fairy Tale from Latvia
How the Cuckoo Came to Call
There once was a mother who raised a flea in her bathroom. The flea became so large that she was able to make an entire pair of shoes from its skin for her daughter. Soon thereafter the mother was invited to a wedding with her daughter. At the wedding feast the mother promised to give her daughter’s hand in marriage to the first person who could guess the kind of hide the shoes were made from. One after another tried to guess, but in vain. Suddenly a newt poked his head through a crack in the floorboard and cried “The shoes are made from the skin of a flea!” And so, nothing could be done, the mother had to give her daughter to the newt in marriage.
The newt led his wife to his castle by the sea. They lived there for a long time. One day, the wife became restless and desired to see her parents again. But the newt would not allow it, she must first find her way and walk in iron shoes, then he would allow it. Well and good, after seven years she had mastered walking in iron shoes and they were ripped to shreds. The wife took her three children by the hand to visit her parents. The newt led all four to the seashore. He said: “When you return, step very closely to the edge of the sea and call out: “Newt, if you live, let a maelstrom of milk rise up; if you are dead, let a maelstrom of blood rise up. When I hear your words, I will come to meet you.”
And so they said their good-byes. After the newt’s wife had spent some time with her parents, she became homesick for her newt. Her parents did not want her to go. But the newt’s wife praised her life with the newt; life in the castle by the sea was good for her and her children; it was now time to go home. The parents wanted to follow her and find out how she met the newt by the big water and how they could find the castle, but she would not tell them. So, if she would not say, they would have to worm it out of the small, dumb children.
They asked the oldest: he said nothing. They asked the middle child: she also said nothing. They asked the youngest, he said it. As soon as the father found out the secret, he went to the seashore and called out: “Newt, if you live, let a maelstrom of milk rise up; if you are dead, let a maelstrom of blood rise up!” The newt whirled up an eddy of milk and emerged on shore. But the father took aim and shot him dead. The next morning when the wife went to the seashore with her children and called out: “Newt, if you live, let a maelstrom of milk rise up; if you are dead, let a maelstrom of blood rise up!” The newt whirled up an eddy of blood. The mother was terrified and asked the children, which of them had divulged the father’s secret. The youngest acknowledged his misdeed. The mother spoke her judgment on each one. “You my eldest son, shall become an oak tree, so that everyone admires you. You, my middle daughter, shall become a fresh linden tree, so that the maidens adorn themselves with your branches. You, my youngest chatterbox shall become a stumbling block, which shall break the axle of even the largest cart. I myself will become a cuckoo and will call for my newt for ever and always.” And so it was.
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