Roumanian Fairy Tales
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Various >> Roumanian Fairy Tales
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Enough, Petru remained on the river bank. Cross? That he could not do.
Swim over it? That was not to be thought of! What should he do? Well,
we needn't worry about Petru, he isn't easily frightened. He turned
and went back to the giant. "We'll run the risk," he thought, "we'll
talk to each other. Wake up, my brave fellow," he shouted, pulling the
monster by the sleeve of his coat. When the giant awoke he stretched
out his hand toward Petru--just as we do when we try to catch a fly.
Petru blew upon the flute, and the giant fell back to the ground. So
Petru waked him and put him to sleep again, three times in
succession,--that is, he waked him three times and made him go to
sleep three times. When this was to be done for the fourth time, Petru
unfastened his cravat, tied the giant's two little fingers together
with it, then drew his sword, and, tapping the monster on the breast,
cried, "Wake up, my brave fellow!"
When the giant saw what a sorry jest had been played upon him, he said
to Petru: "Hark ye, this is no fair fight! Fight honestly, if you are
a hero!"
"Wait a while, I want to talk with you first," said Petru. "Swear that
you will carry me over the river, then I'll release you for a fair
fight."
The giant took the oath, and Petru let him rise. When he was fairly
awake he rushed upon the prince to crush him at a single blow. But he
had met his match. Petru was more than a day old, and he, too, dashed
boldly on the foe. They fought for three days and three nights; the
giant seized Petru and hurled him on the ground so that he drove him
into the earth up to his knees, but Petru buried the giant to his
waist; then the giant thrust him into the ground to his breast, and
finally Petru forced the giant down to his neck. When the giant found
himself cornered in this way he cried out in terror, "Let me go, let
me go, I own myself conquered!"
"Will you carry me over the river?" asked Petru.
"I will!" he replied from the hole in the ground.
"What shall I do to you if you break your promise?"
"Kill me; do whatever you choose with me, only let me live now!"
"Be it so!" said Petru, then taking the giant's left hand he tied it
to his right foot, stuffed a handkerchief into his mouth so that he
could not cry out, bandaged his eyes to prevent him from seeing, and
led him to the river.
When they reached the stream the giant put one foot on the opposite
bank, took Petru on the palm of his hand and set him carefully on the
further shore.
"That's right!" said Petru; then he blew on his flute and the giant
sank down on the river bank.
When the fairies, who were bathing in the milky waves of the river,
heard the sound of Petru's flute they felt sleepy, came out, and fell
asleep on the blossoms along the shore, where Petru found them when he
got down from the palm of the giant's hand. He did not venture to
linger long with them. They were beautiful, heaven knows! What must
the Fairy Aurora herself be? Or was she the ugliest among the fair
ones? The prince did not stop to ask himself many questions, but set
off to see.
When he entered the garden, he began to wonder again. Much as he had
seen and experienced, he had never beheld any thing so beautiful. The
trees all had golden branches, the waters of the fountains were
clearer than dew, the wind blew with a musical sound, and the flowers
whispered sweet, loving words. Petru wondered still more when he found
that there was not a single unfolded blossom in the garden, nothing
but buds. It seemed as if the world had stood still here, and it was
always spring. Yet when did the flowers bloom, if they had not yet had
time to open? And, if they did not bloom, why was it? This question,
and many another one, Petru asked himself on his way to the palace. No
one barred his progress, no one interfered with his thoughts, every
body was asleep; the nymphs beside the fountains, the birds on the
boughs, the deer in the thickets, and the butterflies on the flowers,
all were sunk in dreams by the music of the flute. Nay, even the wind
no longer played with the leaves, the sunbeams no longer drank the
dewdrops from the grass, and the river had ceased to flow. Petru alone
was awake, awake with his thoughts, and his wonder at these thoughts.
He reached the court-yard of the palace. Around it stretched a thick,
beautiful grass-plot--a grass plot that swayed like the wind. Before
him was the gate--a gate made entirely of flowers and other beautiful
things. Below and beside the gate were more flowers, each one more
beautiful than the other, so that Petru fancied he was treading upon
clouds as he passed over them. On the right and left slept fairies,
who should have guarded the entrance of the court-yard. Petru looked
around him in every direction, said once more, "God be with me!" and
entered the palace.
What Petru saw I can not describe; surely every body knows that the
palace of the Fairy Aurora can be no ordinary place. Around it were
petrified fairies, trees with golden leaves, and flowers made of
pearls and gems, columns wrought of sunbeams, steps as soft and
lustrous as the couches of princesses, and a sweet, soothing
atmosphere. Such was the court-yard of the Fairy Aurora's palace, and
it could have been no different. Why should it? Petru went up the
steps and entered the palace. The first twelve rooms were hung with
linen, the next twelve with silk; then came twelve decked with silver
and twelve with gold. Petru passed swiftly through the whole
forty-eight, and in the forth-ninth apartment, which was the most
magnificent of all, he found the Fairy Aurora. The chamber was large,
broad, and high, like one of the finest churches. The walls were
covered with all sorts of silk and beautiful things, and on the floor,
where one sets one's foot, was something, I don't know exactly what,
but something as glittering as a mirror and as soft as cushions,
besides many other beautiful things, such as a Fairy Aurora must have.
Where should there be lovely things, if not in her palace! As has been
said, Petru fairly held his breath when he saw himself in the midst of
so much beauty. In the center of this church, or whatever it was,
Petru saw the famous fountain on whose account he had taken so long a
journey, a fountain like any other, with nothing extraordinary about
it. One couldn't help wondering that the Fairy Aurora allowed it to be
in her room. It had staves such as were used in ancient times, but
they had evidently been allowed to remain for some special purpose.
And now I will tell a wonderful thing. Beside the fountain lay the
Fairy Aurora herself--the real Fairy Aurora! The couch was made of
gold and heaven knows what else, but it was a beautiful one, and on it
slept the Fairy Aurora, resting on silken cushions filled with spring
breezes. Of course she was not beautiful. Why should she be? Had not
Holy Friday said that she was a combination of hideous things? Why
should we delay in our words? Perhaps Holy Friday was right! It might
be so. Enough--when Petru looked at her as she slept there on her
couch, he held his breath and no longer played on the magic flute--he
was petrified by this wonder of wonders. No, she was beautiful, far,
far more beautiful than one would expect the Fairy Aurora must be!
I'll say no more.
On the right and left of the couch slept twelve of the prettiest
fairies in the kingdom, who had evidently been overtaken by slumber
while waiting on their queen. Petru was so absorbed in gazing at the
Fairy Aurora that he did not notice them till, no longer hearing the
flute, they stirred in their sleep. Petru, too, trembled, and began to
play again. The whole palace was once more sunk in slumber, and the
prince advanced three paces.
Between the couch and the fountain was a table on which were a tender
white loaf, kneaded with roe's milk, and a goblet of red wine, sweet
as a morning dream. This was the bread of strength and the wine of
youth. Petru looked once at the bread, once at the wine, and once at
the Fairy Aurora, then with three steps more reached the couch, the
table, and the fountain. When he stood beside the couch he fairly lost
his senses--he really could not control himself, and stooping bit the
Fairy Aurora. She opened her eyes, and looked at the prince with a
glance which made him lose his senses still more. He played upon his
flute that she might fall asleep again, placed the golden wreath on
her brow, took a piece of bread from the table, drank a sip of the
wine of youth, then bit the fairy again, ate another mouthful of
bread, and drank more wine. This he did three times in succession.
Thrice he bit the Fairy Aurora, thrice he ate of the bread, and thrice
he tasted the wine. Then he filled the jug with water from the
fountain and vanished like a piece of good news.
When the hero entered the garden he found an entirely new world. The
flowers were flowers, the buds had opened, the fountains played
faster, the sunbeams danced more cheerily on the palace walls, and the
fairies' faces looked more joyous. All this was due to the three
bites.
Petru went away by the same road that he came, amid the fairies and
flowers, on the palm of the giant's hand, past lions, dragons, and
other monsters. Then, seated in his saddle, he cast one glance back
and saw that the whole world behind him was in motion. Hi! But they
had somebody before them worth chasing. Not like the wind, not like
thought, not like longing, not like a curse, but even faster than
happiness vanishes, Petru hurried on his way. The pursuers were left
behind, and the prince reached Holy Friday on foot. Holy Friday knew
that he was coming by the neighing of the bay horse, which had felt
its master's approach three days off, so she came to meet him,
bringing some white bread and red wine.
"Welcome back, prince!"
"Good morning, thank you kindly, Holy Friday."
Petru then handed her the jug of water from the Fairy Aurora's
fountain, and his hostess thanked him most warmly. They exchanged a
few words about the prince's journey, the Fairy Aurora's palace, and
the beauty of this sister of the Sun--then Petru saddled the bay, for
he really had no time to lose. Holy Friday listened sometimes
joyously, sometimes bitterly, sometimes merrily, sometimes angrily,
but when she saw that Petru was surely going, to carry home his
portion of the water from the fairy fountain, she wished him health
and happiness.
Petru did not stop till he reached Holy Thursday. Here he dismounted
and entered as had been agreed, but did not stay long, merely greeted
her, talked a little while, and then said farewell.
"Stop, let me tell you something else before you go on," said Holy
Thursday anxiously. "Take care of your life; enter into conversation
with no one, don't ride too fast, don't let go of the water, believe
no promises, and fly from lips that speak sweet words! Go as you came,
the way is long, the world is wicked, and you have something very
valuable in your hand, so listen to me. I give you this handkerchief,
it is made neither of gold, silver, silk, nor pearls, but striped
linen; take good care of it, it is enchanted. Whoever carries it no
thunderbolt can strike, no lance stab, no sword slay, and no bullet
pierce."
Such were Holy Thursday's words. Petru took the handkerchief and
listened to her counsel; then dashed off on the bay, hurrying as fairy
princes do hurry, when seized by homesickness. Petru did not dismount
at Holy Wednesday's, but said, "How do you do," from his horse's back
and rode on. Just at the right time he remembered his enchanted box,
and, wishing to know what was going on in the world, drew it out of
its case. He had barely pulled it out and not wholly opened it, when
the voice inside said:
"The Fairy Aurora is angry because you took the water away. Holy
Friday is angry because she has broken her jug, your brothers Florea
and Costan are angry because you have wrested the empire from them."
Petru began to laugh when he heard of so much anger. He did not
exactly know what else to ask. "How did Holy Friday break the jug?" he
said at last.
"She began to dance with joy, and fell down with it."
"How have I wrested the empire from my brothers?"
The box now began to relate how Florea and Costan, as the emperor was
now old and blind in both eyes, had gone to him and begged him to
divide his kingdom between them. The emperor had replied that no one
should rule the land except he who brought water from the Fairy
Aurora's fountain. "As the brothers understood his meaning they went
to old Birscha, who told them that you had been there, accomplished
the feat, and set out on your way home. Your brothers consulted
together and are now on their way to meet you, kill you, take the
water from you, and reign over the country."
"You lie, you accursed box," cried Petru furiously, when he heard all
this, and dashed the casket upon the ground so that it broke into
seventy-seven pieces. He had not ridden much further, ere he saw the
clouds of his own country, felt his native breezes, and beheld here
and there, in the distance, one of the mountain peaks on the frontiers
of his home. Petru stopped, that he might see more distinctly what it
seemed to him that he only fancied he perceived.
He was just going to cross the bridge on the borders of the empire,
when he thought he heard a distant sound, as though some one were
calling him, and even shouting his name: "Ho! Petru!" He wanted to
halt.
"Forward, forward," cried the bay. "You'll fare badly if you stop."
"No, no, stop! Let us see who and what it is, and what is wanted. Let
me look the world in the face!" So saying, Petru turned the bay's
bridle.
Oh, Petru, Petru! Who told you to stop? Wouldn't it be better for you
to remember what Holy Thursday said to you? Wouldn't it be better for
you to heed the bay's counsel? That's the way of the world, you can do
nothing to change it!
When he turned, he saw his brother Florea and his brother Costan. They
were both there, and approached Petru. Forward, Petru, hurry on! Or
did not Holy Thursday tell you that you must enter into conversation
with no one? Or do you no longer remember the tidings Holy Wednesday's
box brought you? The brothers drew near with fair words and honey on
their lips. What did Holy Thursday say? Petru, Petru, have you
forgotten?
When Petru saw his dear brothers, he leaped from the bay's back and
rushed into their arms. Dear me! how could he help it? How long it was
since he had seen a human face or heard one word of human speech! The
conversation flowed as it flows among brothers. Petru was gay and
happy; Florea and Costan were full of sweet words, there was honey on
their lips. Only the bay was sad and hung his head mournfully. After
the brothers had talked a long time about the old emperor, the
country, and Petru's journey, Florea began to frown.
"Brother Petru, this is a wicked world!--wouldn't it be better for you
to give us the water to carry? People will come to meet you, but
nobody will know any thing about us, whence we come, where we are
going, or what we have."
"Yes, indeed," said Costan, "Florea speaks sensibly."
Petru shook his head once or twice, and then told his brothers about
his charmed handkerchief. They now perceived that there was only one
way to kill the hero, so Florea began to talk to Petru over Costan's
shoulders. About three stones'-throws off was a well of clear, cold
water.
"Aren't you thirsty, Costan?" asked Florea, winking at Costan.
"Yes," replied Costan, understanding what Florea meant. "Come, Petru,
let us quench our thirst, and then may God help us on our way. We'll
follow you to protect you from annoyance and danger."
Don't go, Petru, don't go, or you'll fare badly! The bay horse neighed
but once. Ah, but the hero did not understand. What happened then!
What should happen? Nothing!--
The well was broad and deep.
The two brothers went home with the water, as if they had brought it
from the Fairy Aurora.
The bay neighed again, so fiercely and mournfully that even the woods
shook with fear, then rushed to the well and stood there paralyzed by
grief.
This was the story of Petru, the brave, the heroic prince. It seems as
if he were destined to arrive at an evil hour.
A banquet was held at the emperor's court, and all sorts of splendid
ceremonies were arranged. All through the land went the news that the
monarch's sons, Florea and Costan, had brought the water from the
Fairy Aurora. The emperor washed his eyes with the water and saw as
never mortal man had seen before. In the royal chamber behind the
hearth stood a cask, and in the stave of this cask he saw a worm--the
emperor could see so well that he looked through the wood. After
dividing the empire between his two brave sons, he retired to his
large private estates to spend his old age in peace. So ended the
story of the water from the Fairy Aurora's fountain. The country
celebrated the event for three days and three nights, then the people
went to work again as if nothing had happened.
After Petru had left the couch, the palace, and the court-yard, and
the sound of his flute could no longer be heard, the Fairy Aurora
recovered her consciousness, opened her eyes, raised her head, and
looked around her in every direction as if searching for something,
though she herself did not exactly know what.
"What was that?" she asked, half awake, half-dreaming--"Who?"
It seemed to her as if she had seen something in a vision,--no, in
reality,--something sweet and pleasant. A creature like a human being,
but with a more commanding glance, something unlike any thing she had
ever beheld before.
"Don't you know what it was? Did you see it too! Or, have you, too,
been asleep, been dreaming?"
Such were the questions the Fairy Aurora asked her attendant fays and
herself. She felt as if she had had a different soul ever since she
saw this wonder. But no one answered her; every one was dumb with
amazement.
The Fairy Aurora noticed the wreath: "What a beautiful garland! Who
gathered the flowers for it, who twined them into a coronal, and who
brought the wreath here and laid it on my couch?"
And the Fairy Aurora became sad.
She saw the bread on the table. Three mouthfuls were missing, one on
the right side, one on the left and one out of the middle. It was the
same with the wine of youth; three sips were missing, one from the
top, one from the bottom, and one from the middle.
Somebody must have been there. The Fairy Aurora grew still more
sorrowful; it seemed to her as if she missed something, yet she did
not know what or where.
The water in the fountain was turbid. Water! Somebody has taken water
away from here! And the Fairy Aurora was wrathful. How had any one
been able to enter unperceived? Where were all the sharp-eyed guards?
The giants, the dragons, the iron-shod lions, the fairies, the
flowers, and the sun--what had they all been doing? Nobody had
watched! Had nobody been at his post? The Fairy Aurora now fell into a
perfect rage. "Lions! Dragons! Giants! set forth, pursue, catch, seize
and bring him back." Such were the orders of the Fairy Aurora in the
fury of her wrath. The command was issued and set her whole realm in
commotion, but Petru had fled so swiftly that not even the sunbeams
could overtake him. All returned sorrowfully; all brought sad tidings.
Petru had crossed the frontiers of the kingdom, had gone where the
Fairy Aurora's guards possessed no power.
The fairy queen now forgot her anger in her grief, and sent forth the
Sun to make seven days into one, to search, gaze, and bring tidings.
During this seven-fold long day the Fairy Aurora did nothing but watch
the course of the Sun; she gazed and gazed till the tears began to
stream from her eyes, I don't know whether from looking so long or
from her great sorrow and yearning.
Lo and behold! On the seventh day the Sun came home,--red, tired, and
sad. More bad news. Alas! Petru was where the sunbeams could not
penetrate.
When the Fairy Aurora saw that this last trial had also been vain, she
gave strict orders throughout her whole country that the fairies
should no longer smile, the flowers no longer send forth fragrance,
the breezes no longer blow, the springs no more pour forth clear
waters, nor the sunbeams shine. Then she commanded that the black veil
of darkness should be let down between the world and her empire, a
veil so thick that only a single sunbeam should pierce it, to convey
the tidings that the sun would not move through the sky until the
person who had taken the water from the fountain should come. And this
news went through the darkened world. The people agreed that the great
light had been solely for the emperor's eye-sight. Nobody in the world
saw except the emperor, nobody perceived the annoyances of the
darkness except the emperor, and nobody was more unhappy than the
emperor. So he advised and commanded his sons, Florea and Costan, to
set out and free the world from darkness.
Whoever lies once, will lie a second time; Florea mounted his horse
and rode by the way Petru had smoothed to the Fairy Aurora's kingdom.
When he had nearly reached her court, the fairy felt that some
stranger was approaching.
"Is any body coming?" she asked, rather sharply.
"Some one is coming," replied the dragons who mounted guard at the
bridge.
"How is he coming? Over or under the bridge?"
The bridge was what we know. Florea passed under it.
"The hero is passing under the bridge!" replied the dragons, somewhat
amused.
"See to him, or the light will become black to you," said the fairy,
receiving Florea at his entrance. Florea was thrilled by the sight of
so much beauty.
"Welcome, my hero! Did you steal the water?"
"Yes, you are right, I took it."
"Did you drink the wine?"
Florea remained silent.
"Did you eat the bread?"
"No," said Florea.
"Did you bite me?"
Florea was silent.
"Then may you lose your sight! I'll teach you to tell another
falsehood!" said the fairy, angrily, giving Florea two cuffs, one on
the right ear and the other on the left, till every thing grew as
dark before his eyes as mortal sin. Two dragons led the blind prince
out of the palace, and the matter was settled.
Costan now set out to follow his brother's example. He set out for the
Fairy Aurora's palace, reached it, and fared just as Florea had
done--he, too, left it a blind man.
There was now not a single ray of light in the whole earth. The world
was deprived of light on account of one emperor's eyes.
After the Fairy Aurora had found that she could not recover Petru, she
summoned every one in her whole domain; the fairies, the flowers, in
short, all her subjects. Even the sun himself was obliged to come down
from the sky, unharness the horses from his chariot, lead them to the
stable, and go to the Fairy Aurora's palace. When all were thus
assembled, the beautiful queen gave them no further commands, but in
her grief and suffering bade farewell to all her subjects, thanked
them for their love and confidence, and sent them out into the world,
that each one might act according to his own ideas, keeping only two
lions, two large and two small dragons, and two giants, that she might
have somebody to guard the bridge. She sent all the fairies into the
garden, telling them not to come back to the court till she was happy
once more, then gave orders that the flowers should henceforth cease
to smell so sweet that every human being would carry them away, the
winds wail so piteously that no mortal could help weeping to hear
them, the springs send forth bitter waters, and the sun daily cast
seven times seven cold rays into the world. After saying all these
things, she went to the great wheel on which the threads of human life
are wound, stopped it, so that it could no longer turn, and human
existence became changeless. Then the Fairy Aurora hid herself from
the world in the darkest and dreariest corner of her whole palace.
The big and little dragons and the giants went out into the wide world
and hid themselves for very shame in the most secluded caves and
deserts, so that they could no longer be seen by any human eye; the
lions shook the gold from their manes, the iron from their teeth and
paws, and became furious with rage; the fairies concealed themselves
in the garden; the flowers, springs, and winds obeyed the Fairy
Aurora's will; and the cold rays of the sun, lacking both warmth and
light, can still be seen in the sky on summer nights. Human life was
at a stand, time ceased to move. Two lions, two big and two little
dragons, and two giants mounted guard at the bridge. How long the
Fairy Aurora's kingdom remained in this state is not known and can not
be told. Much time passed without moving.
Holy Friday, too, at last noticed that the Fairy Aurora was angry; the
scanty sunbeams, and the whirlwinds which shook the whole world, had
brought her the tidings. She was half angry, half pleased,--angry
because she could no longer see around her, and pleased because her
brave, handsome prince had escaped and her beautiful neighbor was
sorrowful. She was provoked, too, because her jug with the wonderful
water was broken. But when Holy Friday saw that the darkness did not
lessen, the light did not return, and even the very last sunbeam
vanished from the earth, she realized that the Fairy Aurora was not
jesting, and she ordered the whirlwinds to set out together and remove
the great veil on the frontiers of the empire, that light might enter
the world. The winds departed, each one more furious, more fierce,
more terrible than the other--as whirlwinds usually are. It seemed as
if they were taking the world away with them, and meant to tarry on it
no longer. They reached the veil and dashed against it. Oh, how strong
they were! But the veil did not stir. The whirlwinds blew against it
again and again, three times in succession, then they gave up the
attempt. They saw that the veil was firmer than the earth itself.
After lingering a few moments they returned, wearied and covered with
disgrace, and once more circled around the earth in their wild rage.
You can imagine what happened to every thing that came in their way.
Nothing good at any rate. Alas! alas!
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