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*Tales from Europe* Beowulf retold by Robert Hoffman Nightfall was the worst time for the king. For the coming of darkness brought the return of the dread monster --Grendel. When the light of the sun left the land in deep shadow, mists would rise from the swamp and Grendel steal over the land to terrorize both the king and his subjects. For the last twelve years the monster had been killing the king's men. Though they had placed doors of the solid oak bound with the strength of iron against him, Grendel broke these with one tremendous blow. Grendel was nearly immortal as it had been decreed that no weapon made by man could harm him. And while he himself wielded no weapon, he still raised fear among all because of his strength and cunning. Grendel stood nearly seven feet tall with the strength of twenty men. He wore no clothing as his skin was hardened like cured-leather. His hands were the most terrible. Their long yellow claws were as strong as steel and curved toward his palms. He spent a significant amount of time each day sharpening them until they had a razor's edge. His teeth were more like a bear's than a human's with sharpened canines extending outside of his lips. When the moonlight reflected upon them, they gleamed with an unearthly glow. He was a formidable enemy. When each new sunset brought a new night of terror, the misery of the court of Hrothgar became widely known. The story finally reached the shores of Beowulf's Land. Beowulf was a mighty man whose fame had spread over the world. Although he was still a young man, his strength was legendary. It was said that he once fought a battle and killed thirty men with his bare hands. When he heard the story of Hrothgar's misery, he resolved to travel to help the good king. Fearing that taking an army would do little good, he chose fourteen of his strongest warriors to accompany him. With seven men on each side of the viking ship, they soon rowed the ship from their home port and out onto the ocean. The seas were friendly and when they raised their sails the freshening winds drove their ship easily toward Denmark. In hardly more than a day's journey the harbor beckoned them. Anchoring their ship offshore they walked to the shore bearing their weapons. When the sentinel on the shore saw an armed group of men led by a stalwart warrior wading ashore, he challenged them, "Who are you and what do you want?" Beowulf looked at the small man and said with a smile, "Why do you want to know?" "You have landed bearing arms in the land I am pledged to defend. It is my duty to ask your business . . . and if you be foe: to fight to the death." "We are not enemies. I am Beowulf and I have come to fight with the monster Grendel." "Then stay and be welcome. I will take you to my king. Are you certain that you wish to fight with Grendel? We have heard that no weapon will harm him . . . ." "Then I will use no weapon, I will fight with only my hands and my strength." The coast guard looked at him and saw that this was no idle boast. His arms were the size of other men's legs and his shoulders so broad that no man could hope to wrestle with him. A small amount of hope began to grow in the man's heart, and as he led the group he even began to smile a little. Arriving at the castle Beowulf saw the doors thrown down and in disarray. He bent and examined them closely. In his mind he felt a small amount of concern. It would not have been an easy thing to destroy these doors. Feeling the challenge rising he smiled grimly and then tossed the heavy doors out of the way as if they weighed no more than dandelion fluff. "When I have completed my task, I will rebuild the doors myself so that all who stay inside will have fear of nothing." Walking through the entrance to the courtyard he looked the assembled people over until he found Hrothgar. Striding purposefully toward him he knelt on the ground in front of him and said, "Your misery with the monster Grendel has reached even into my land. When I heard the story, I knew I must come and do battle with the monster. I do not know if I will win, I only ask your leave to try." "If that is all that is required, then your request is granted. But, I have a heavy heart as I have no wish to see such a fine, young man killed by the monster. Many strong men have fought the monster -- the sun is turning their bones white on the road to the lair of Grendel. Sir, if you will take my advice: I tell you to turn and return to your land at once. It is not necessary that you sacrifice your life needlessly." "I know it is not required but I also know that I was born to do battle with the forces of the evil and Grendel is evil. Do not fear too much for my safety for I have had some small experience in these matters." "Then stay and be welcomed. Tonight we will feast in your honor. In that way if it is your last meal on earth, it will be an enjoyable one." He turned and spoke to his counselor and the counselor showed Beowulf and his men where they could place their belongings and make ready for the coming of night. The party was marvelous with as fine a food as Beowulf had seen. There was drink for all and he even allowed his men a small amount of mead -- the strong liquor made from honey. As night darkened and the fires began to die, Hrothgar excused himself. Walking to Beowulf he placed his hands on his shoulders and said, "Though we have just met, I think of you as a son. Please, hide yourself for you know not what you are asking to fight. The knowledge that you will perish is darkening my heart." "If I die, it will not be because of fear. I will conquer the monster or die trying. Tomorrow we shall feast in earnest. I simply hope you have enough mead to satisfy my men in our victory." "If the monster dies tonight, then all the mead in my kingdom is yours as well as most any thing I own or control. For ridding my kingdom of this curse would be a great boon to my people and me." With his eyes glistening with tears in the wan firelight, Hrothgar retired for the evening. Beowulf removed his sword and placed it near him while he slept. The mead was working on his mind and it felt good to lay down. Sleep claimed him nearly as soon as he stretched out. The next sounds he heard were the dying screams of his comrade. When Beowulf awoke he was dismayed to find that Grendel had already killed one of his men. Beowulf looked at the man's body on the floor of the great hall. His head lolled to one side with his blackened tongue protruding. With a glance Beowulf could tell that his legs were obviously broken. The man's sword lay on the ground broken in pieces. As he turned toward the monster he saw Grendel take another man as if he were a twig and break his back. Opening his tremendous jaws he took a giant bite of the man's side and spit it on the ground. The screams of his dying woke the entire hall. Throwing his drawn weapon aside Beowulf approached the monster. Reaching his hand to grab him he closed his mighty fingers around his arm. When he squeezed, Grendel had never felt such strength. In all of his miserable life he had never known fear: now he did. Trying to withdraw his arm only made the man grasp more tightly. With a terrible scream Grendel began to move toward the door. Beowulf was dragged behind and his feet scrambled for purchase. Still he continued to slip, but he would not let go. His arms ached from their effort and his muscles rippled in the moonlight: but still he hung on. The door to the outside drew Grendel and he tried all the harder to leave the castle . Beowulf set his legs and summoning all of his strength: stopped the monster cold. Then with a strength and will of a hero, he began to pull the monster toward him. Grendel felt himself being drawn toward the mighty man but there was little he could do about it. Turning suddenly he opened his tremendous jaws and struck out with the claw that was not held. Beowulf easily deflected the blow with a laugh and threw Grendel to the ground without loosening his grip. Grendel had gone beyond being scared into the realm of sheer terror. He knew he had to get away but did not know how. Straining himself he pulled against the man with all of his power. But it was to no avail. As Grendel began to weaken, Beowulf grew stronger. Finally with all of the effort he could muster Grendel lunged for the door. Beowulf's face grew grim as he held on tightly. Then when Grendel started to make some progress, Beowulf jerked with all the strength he had. There was a ripping, tearing sound as Grendel's arm separated from his shoulder. Beowulf threw the arm in disgust and reached for the monster. But, he was too late for Grendel had fled. Though mortally wounded he managed to escape the castle and find the road home. Returning to his broken men Beowulf shed bitter tears. He stood over them and thought of the good times they had enjoyed together. He was deep in thought when he felt the arm of the king surround his shoulders and squeeze gently. "You have done well. We believe that the monster will die of his wounds." "Yes, I believe he will as well. But, his death will not bring my men back to life." "I know, my son. I have lost many good men to the monster. But, now he is dead and we shall throw a festival that shall be sung about when we are cold in our graves -- for the monster is dead." The men retired for the evening and slept until the sun was high in the sky. In truth the men in Hrothgar's Court had their most peaceful night of sleeping in many years. Though Beowulf felt the loss of his men deeply, he also understood that his task had been completed. The morning brought many preparations as oxen were roasted, sweets of every description were prepared, and giant barrels of mead and other liquors were brought from the storerooms of Hrothgar. When the sun set and the skies darkened, the men and women still danced and listened to the minstrels sing of the victory of Beowulf over Grendel. When it became time to retire, Hrothgar offered his own quarters to Beowulf and his men. His gratitude to the young man for destroying the monster could not be underestimated. With Grendel dead, Hrothgar and his court slept in the open under the stars in the courtyard. For with the monster dead, what was there to fear? Stealthily moving over the moors and swamps the mother of Grendel approached the castle of Hrothgar. Though she was much smaller and not blessed with Grendel's ability to withstand the weapons of man, she none-the-less was a study in terror. Walking past the ruined gates she grabbed the first nobleman she saw -- the king's counselor -- and dashed his head on the courtyard stones until his brains were strewn about. The rest of the court was roused by the sound of the nobleman's dying and all cowered in fear. The hideous monster strode through the court seeking another victim to satisfy her lust for revenge. Spying her son's arm on the ground she took it to her breast and cradled it gently. Seeing that the men were gathering their arms to fight, she left the court and sped toward her home in the trackless swamps. Beowulf, his head still full of mead, was awakened and returned to the courtyard. "What has happened, King Hrothgar?" "Another monster -- we believe it might have been some relation to Grendel came and killed my counselor. Now she has run onto the moor toward the swamp." "Then I will go and do battle with her as well. It is my task to rid this land of the monster and if there is more than one: I will kill more than one." The blood from the arm of Grendel dripped onto the ground and Beowulf could follow the trail with the tendrils of light from the awakening sun. Moving through the dark fen toward the deepening water, Beowulf drew his weapon. It was an evil place and he knew that death could be around the next tussock. Trailing the blood until it ended at a low-lying pool of stagnant water, Beowulf looked around and tried to see where the monster might have gone. Seeing no sign of her he assumed she had entered the water. Shedding nearly all but his good sword Hrunting he dived into the slime-encrusted waters. Down and down he went until he saw it: an underwater chamber. He entered and was relieved to find that he could breathe. How air was delivered this deep into the water was a mystery to him, but with drawn sword he sought his foe. The chamber was decorated with the weapons and relics of the many men that Grendel had killed. A terrible odor filled Beowulf's nostrils and he turned to where the body of Grendel was decomposing. Seeing Grendel's Mother out of the corner of his eye, he managed to avoid her attack. Drawing his sword high over his head, he drove it toward her with all of his considerable might. The good sword shattered into three pieces and the shards fell at his feet. Seeing that her enemy was now defenseless she charged toward him. Beowulf sought furtively for another weapon and finding a short sword laying on the floor, he bent to pick it up. As she attacked he lunged -- sinking the sword deep into her heart. Her dying screams filled the chamber.. Beowulf withdrew the weapon and looked at it. The blade was writ with runes of ancient days that contained great power. Searching the chamber he found the body of Grendel. Taking the ancient knife he removed the monster's head and dove for the surface. Thinking that he had been gone so long that he stood no chance of being alive, his men had returned to the court of Hrothgar and were deep in mourning when they heard a sound outside. Suddenly the head of Grendel was rolled on the floor of the courtyard and Beowulf entered with a great smile on his face. The partying lasted for three days as Beowulf was toasted in every imaginable way. Finally when the time came for him to leave, Hrothgar called him close, "Anything that is mine, is yours. I give it gladly. What is your desire?" "I desire nothing more than the chance to help." "But, Beowulf, you have earned this boon. Please, choose something to take with you on your journey." "I will take this sword, but I will not leave until I have fixed the doors to the castle. In the morning my men and I will repair them before sailing to Geatland. " And so in the morning the gates were repaired and Beowulf and his men left Denmark to return home. His legend was spread among all people for his prowess as a warrior is still the stuff of dreams . . . . The Fisherman's Widow by Ilil Arbel, Ph.D. Long ago, an old fisherman, widow lived by the sea. She had no children to help her, and the villagers, embittered by perpetual poverty, spared her little if any food. One day she fished on the beach, not far from a few young maidens. Noticing some commotion among them, the old woman saw that a wounded hippocampus was thrown by the waves onto the sand. The girls laughed at the unhappy animal, and one even threw a stone at him. Angry at such cruelty, the old woman went to comfort the hippocampus and dressed his wound. She gave him some water, and sat by his side, cradling his beautiful white head on her lap. Eventually the hippocampus began to recover. He lifted his head and spoke: "You saved my life. In return, I will grant you three wishes." "Anything I want?" asked the widow. "Anything you desire. I give you my word." "Then I want you to make this village a prosperous place." As soon as this was said, the poor village changed. The houses looked well-kept, and little vegetable gardens sprouted around them. The fishermens boats sparkled, perfectly repaired and painted. The girls on the beach wore beautifully embroidered dresses. "My second wish, hippocampus, is to make the villagers kind and good. Nobody should ever be turned away from their doors." As soon as this was said, the girls changed. Tears came to their eyes and they rushed forward to help the hippocampus. The old woman saw windows and doors thrown open, and people hugging each other in the street. "Don't you want anything for yourself?" asked the hippocampus. "Yes, one thing," said the old woman. "I want death." "Why? Look how you changed these girls with your kind wish. They seem concerned for both of us. Surely life will be good now in this village?" "Not for me. My life is over, hippocampus. I have suffered too long and I am very old. Other people will benefit, I hope, but I have nothing left to do in this village," said the widow. "I cannot give you death," said the hippocampus. "You gave your word, hippocampus. Anything I want." "Then you must follow me to my land. My Prince can give you death." The girls tried to stop her, but the widow would not listen; she walked to the edge of the water with the hippocampus. The setting sun threw an orange streak of light on the sea, and it looked like a long golden road into the horizon. As the hippocampus and the old woman stepped on the streak of light, the sea opened, revealing broad stone stairs leading deep down. The girls retreated, terrified. Never looking back, the old woman walked into the sea, and found she could breath as comfortably as she did on land. They descended the stairs for a long time, finally reaching the Land Beneath the Sea, which we call Atlantis. The old woman had never seen such beauty. The light turned the bottom of the sea into an aquamarine paradise. A profusion of sea anemones fluttered and waved in the underwater gardens, colorful fishes swam everywhere, and many mermaids and mermen passed by, each riding a white hippocampus. Finally the widow and the hippocampus entered a magnificent palace made of pearls and shiny shells. Inside, on a huge golden throne, sat the handsome Prince of Atlantis, surrounded by his court. The hippocampus bowed, and related the story and the widows request. The Prince listened attentively, smiled, and said: "This is a wonderful story, my hippocampus friend. But where is the kind old woman who saved you life and wanted nothing for herself in return?" "Why, Your Highness, I am the old woman," said the widow, astonished. Everyone laughed, and the Prince handed her a jeweled mirror; from it smiled the face of her youth, when she was the village beauty and life was full of the promise of joy. "No one grows old in Atlantis," said the Prince kindly, "and no one dies unless they want to. Look around you and decide. Do you still want death, my dear? Or would you rather live?" "I would rather live, Your Highness, since you have given me the opportunity of a new life," said the widow. "But what will become of me? I do not want to go back to my village. My life there is finished." "For a hundred years I have been looking for a special woman to be my wife, as it is the custom of the Royal House of Atlantis to choose their spouses from the World above the Sea. If I search the world for another hundred years I will not find anyone as selfless, wise, and beautiful as you," said the Prince. "Will you be my wife and the Princess of Atlantis?" And so it was. And in the old village they have erected a statue in her honor, which can still be seen today, if you just go far enough up the coast of this little Greek Island where it all happened, long ago. Rapunzel Retold by Robert Hoffman -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The ancient stone wall surrounding the property of the witch, Mother Goethels, had been built in a time out of memory. It was there when the city was built and would still be there when the city is destroyed. It is a permanent mark on the land. Over time the stones had become weathered and smoothed by the harsh German winters and the frequent storms of autumn and spring. In this time, the stones had lost their color and blended together. The mortar made the wall into a seamless barrier held together by magic. When the young couple first moved into the house next to the witch's property, their thoughts were not of the wall and what lay beyond it. Instead they concentrated on themselves and making their home into a good place to raise children. But, as sometimes happens, the young woman did not become pregnant. Years went by and still their desire for children was not granted. When she finally became pregnant, they were the happiest people in the country. Each day was greeted with huge smiles and even the discomfort caused by her condition seemed minor. The lady's husband took to his new role of trying to grant his wife's wishes very well. One morning she refused the breakfast he had prepared. He was not concerned until she had also refused lunch and supper. He called for the doctor and after examining her, the doctor could find nothing wrong. "She will have to eat. If she doesn't eat, the baby cannot grow. Try your best." That night he watched her as she slept. The tears welled in his eyes and he prayed silently for her appetite to return. All they had hoped for and dreamed was in the balance. Whatever could be done, must be done. Before he left for work in the morning, he prepared an elegant breakfast for his wife. Placing the tray on a table near the bed where she could easily reach it, he left for work. All that day he worried that she might not be eating as she should. His fears were rewarded. When he returned home he kissed her tenderly and softly said, "Darling, you are going to have to eat. What is the problem?" "Nothing looks good to me. I know you are doing your best, but I simply cannot eat." The next day a magical aroma wafted in on a breeze through the open window. The smell caused her mouth to water and her stomach rumbled loudly. Struggling from the bed, she stepped softly to the window. As she looked beyond the stone wall that told the border of their land, her eyes fell on the garden beyond the wall. Everything seemed so wonderful. There were plants she recognized. Lettuce, carrots, potatoes -- all grew wonderfully. But, there were many plants that she did not recognize. The smell that caused her hunger to grow must be one of these for she did not recognize its aroma. When her husband returned home, she asked him about it. Sniffing the air, he said, "I think that is rampion." "Rampion? What is that?" "Rampion is a green leafy plant. You might know it as rapunzel?" "No, I never heard of it. But, I would dearly love to eat some. It smells wonderfully." "Tomorrow, I will look everywhere to see if I can find some for you. I am glad you are hungry again. It is better for the baby." When he returned from work he had purchased a large quantity of the vegetable. Upon arriving home, he immediately prepared it for his wife. When he took it to her, she frowned. "What's the matter?" "This doesn't smell nearly as good as that does" She said pointing toward the window. "Can't you get me some of that?" A cold shiver found its way from the back of the man's neck to the soles of his feet. He knew the lady next door was evil. She had a terrible reputation as a powerful witch. People said she commanded the black arts as no one ever had. Mother Goethels was her name and he wanted nothing to do with her. The few times he had seen her, he had not even dared look at her. "I cannot. The woman who lives there is evil. If I were caught . . ." "Well, I cannot eat what you have prepared. I will only eat the rampion from the garden." "Please." "No. It will be the rampion from the garden or nothing at all." "I will try." The man waited until the sun had set and still he stared at the garden from the upstairs window. When the pale moon had risen through the clouds of late summer, he still waited. When the moon finally slipped softly from the sky he moved downstairs. Walking from his back door to the wall his feet made little sound. Pausing before the wall he looked back at the house once more. It would have been easy to turn around and go back to his warm bed. But, he said he would try. Searching the wall in the sparse light that escaped from the windows of his house, he found a place for his feet and hands and tentatively placed the toe of his boot into the crevice in the wall. An owl hooted mysteriously in the distance as he found a chink in the wall for his other foot. After the third step had been found, he was on top of the ancient wall. Though the night was warm, the wall was not. It was much colder than he would have believed possible. It was so cold that it caused him to pull his jacket a little closer. Hanging his legs over the side he looked down into the gloom of the witch's garden. With a sigh he pushed his body away from the wall and fell to the ground. Landing on his toes he hardly made a sound. Walking quickly to the rampion he filled a bag. Instead of taking one clump, he removed a leaf here or there in hopes that his theft might not be discovered. When the bag was filled, he returned to the wall and carefully looked for a way to get out of the garden. Climbing the wall on the witch's side proved easier than on his side of the wall and after only a few minutes he heaved his body over the wall and rested in the damp grass. Not daring to move, he listened for sounds that might tell of his discovery. He heard none. Waking his wife gently, he offered her the rampion. She ate it hungrily. When she had eaten the entire plate he had prepared, she asked, "Is there more? This is the best food I have ever had." "I have some more. I was saving it for tomorrow, but if you want it now. . ." "I do. Please get me some more." After she had finished all that he had brought, she closed her eyes and went to sleep. Her husband watched over her. Already her cheeks, which had become pale, were full of healthy color. The man smiled. The next day she left her bed for short periods of time and began to hum happily as she worked on the clothes for the baby she had been knitting. In her despair she had left them undone in her workbasket. The man smiled as he left for work. When he returned home in the evening, his happiness turned once more to sadness. Instead of the happy and healthy lady he had left, she had returned to bed and appeared to be more pale than she had before. "What's the matter, honey?" "I am hungry and there is nothing to eat." "There is a lot to eat. Your favorite things are all here." "Not all of them." "What do you mean?" "Rampion from the garden, I must have more!" "No. I dare not. I was lucky last night. I don't wish to do that again." "Rampion from the garden or nothing at all." Watching her sleep he convinced himself to try again. He waited, as he had before, for first the sun to set and then the moon. Walking through the damp grass from his back door to the ancient wall he felt cold shivers move over his body There was a feeling of impending doom but he continued. The love he felt for his wife and child were strong -- strong enough to face the unknown. Finding the toeholds in the wall he climbed it as quietly as he could. When he reached the top of the wall, he jumped over without hesitation. Landing softly he moved to the rampion and helped himself. Instead of being careful to only take a leaf here or there, he began to rip great clumps of the green leaves and stuff them into the bag. In the stillness of the night the sounds of the leaves tearing filled the garden. If he had not been so energetic in his collection, he might have heard the sounds of quiet footsteps behind him. When the bag was filled he turned and started back for the wall. As he turned a shadow loomed from darkness. It was an old lady bent with age and leaning on a staff. He started to open his mouth but she silenced him by saying, "Don't bother trying to explain, thief! Don't you know who I am?" "You are the witch, Mother Goethels." "Yes I am and now you will feel my wrath." "Mercy. Please, mercy. I was only trying to please my wife." As he said the words he saw her face soften a little. She spoke less harshly, "Why? What does you wife need with my rampion?" "She is with child and refuses to eat anything but the rampion from your garden. I tried to get some in town, she refused it. I was only trying to save the life of my wife and unborn child." Mother Goethels scratched her long, hooked nose and sighed. Her staff, which she had been holding in front of her like a spear, moved to her side and she leaned on it. "Thief, if you wish to live through the night you must do what I ask." "Anything!" "When your wife delivers the girl she carries, you must give the child to me." "For what?" Visions of evil filled his mind and he was ready to die rather than let that happen to his child. She saw his doubt and then added in a soft voice, "I swear that nothing will happen to her. I will raise her as if she were my own child. She will lack for nothing and you and your wife will soon have another baby. I can help with that. Now, what is to be, your death or my wish?" The man cried in the night for long moments. When Mother Goethels lifted her staff to strike him, he quickly said, "I will bring the child to you when she is born. And may God have mercy on her." "Take all of the rampion you need and come back as often as you like. I want your wife to be well satisfied." The man helped himself to the leaves and quickly started toward the wall. The witch stopped him by grasping his arm in her claw-like hand. "Stand back," she said. Raising the staff over her head she whispered some words deep in her throat and the end of the staff glowed with a greenish light. The stone wall, cold and solid a moment ago, opened and a door from his property to the witch's appeared. "This will make it easier for you to supply your wife's needs." Shaking with fear the man walked back to the house without once looking back. Moving to the kitchen he prepared the food and brought it to his wife. She took it from his hands and greedily ate every morsel. "Is there more?" "All that you want." "Then bring me more. I'm still hungry." When he returned with another plateful of the rampion she noticed the tear that had formed in the corner of his eye and trickled down his ruddy cheek. "Why are you crying?" "Mother Goethels caught me stealing the rampion." "What did she do?" The man went on to explain that it was required that they give the girl child she would bear to the witch. The man expected his wife to be upset at this but surprisingly, she was not. She sighed, "Is that all. Why I would do anything to have a supply of this wonderful vegetable." In time the baby arrived. The promise to the witch was nearly forgotten in the joy of the moment. When the husband heard a knock on the door he expected it would be more of their friends and family coming to call and wish the new baby well. When he opened the door Mother Goethels greeted him, "Do you remember your promise?" "Yes. But do you want her now. It has only been a few hours." "Bring her to me." With great sadness he handed the baby to the witch. She smiled at him and reassured him saying, "No harm will ever come to her. I will care for her as if she were my own." Walking through the passageway she had created from her garden to the man's house she smiled grimly. As she passed the border of her land, she uttered a few words and the passageway closed silently behind her -- never open again. Time passed and the couple often looked from their window to the garden below to see the child running and playing. She was growing to be a beautiful girl. Her long hair already hung nearly to the ground and sparkled golden in the sun. Her face was soft, gentle, and very pleasing to look at. Often he had heard the witch call her in from her rompings, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel." Thinking that was a funny name for the pretty young girl, he learned to accept it. Though the couple now had five children, when the man looked at the little girl in the garden, sadness gripped his heart. When weeks had passed without seeing the little girl, the man suspected that the child had been taken from him finally. The witch had seen the looks on the people's faces as they were passing by and she was jealous of the child's beauty. In order to ease this pain, she decided to lock the child in a tower far from the city. Taking her there on a cold, cloudy day in October she raised a ladder to the window high in the tower. Urging the girl up the ladder with the point of her staff, the child climbed into the window. "This is your new home, Rapunzel. I will come every day and visit. It is better if you were away from the city and this is the place I have chosen." Years passed and the child grew in both beauty and gentleness until she would have been the envy of all the young girls -- if they could have seen her. But, locked in her tower deep in the woods, no one saw her. Her hair had continued to grow until it was as long as a golden rope. The ladder to the tower had been abandoned by the witch and now when she came to visit, she called, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair." Rapunzel would take her braided tresses and wrap them around a strong hook that had been placed by the window for that purpose and throw the rest down to the witch. Rapunzel would help the bent old woman climb the rope ladder. For being alone in a tower makes one glad of any company. Though Mother Goethels was strange she was never mean to Rapunzel. In fact she had everything a young girl could want. One day Rapunzel woke with a song in her heart. Though she sang softly to herself, her voice carried beyond the tower to the woods. A prince from a neighboring kingdom was hunting in the same area. The deer he had shot had wandered off into these woods and the prince followed on horseback trying to catch up with the fleeing animal. When he heard her crystal clear voice, his heart was moved. He stayed the horse from following the trail of the wounded buck and moved the animal toward where he heard the voice. Stopping the animal in a thicket far from the tower, but with a view, he waited to see what would happen. Soon an old woman driving a cart pulled by a donkey arrived at the tower and called out, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair." With little warning the golden hair cascaded out of the window. The witch was lifted into the tower window. The prince stayed and watched. His horse munched the rich green grass of the clearing and the prince placed his back against the tree. After several hours the witch left the tower the same way she had arrived. When the sounds of her passing were gone, the prince walked to the tower and trying to imitate the witch's voice, said, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair." The golden tresses fell out of the window and the prince climbed up the tower wall easily. When he arrived at the window he placed his heavy hunting boot on the sill and stepped into the room. "Who are you?" Rapunzel demanded." "Just someone who fell in love with your voice." "Get out. What if Mother Goethels comes. She will kill you." "I will take that chance for a few minutes alone with you." The couple spent many hours in deep conversation. All of the things she felt -- he felt. It was as if a doorway to another world opened before her. Soon the shadows became long and the prince said, "I have to go now. Can I come again tomorrow?" "I would like that. Just call for me when you are ready." Weeks passed and after Mother Goethels would leave, the handsome prince would arrive. When they were together the hours passed as if they were minutes and the minutes like seconds. Rapunzel had never been happier and she positively glowed with anticipation when she knew it was time for him to come. One day she was feeling particularly happy when she heard Mother Goethel's voice. Letting her hair down she helped pull the witch into the tower. When she finally made it to the top Rapunzel said, "It is much easier to pull the prince up. I don't know why that would be, do you?" "Whom did you say?" Rapunzel realized her mistake and when she saw the look on the witch's face regretted her saying anything. "Well, child, who is the prince?" In fear of the witch, she told the entire story. The witch examined her and could tell that she was in the first blush of being with child and her anger doubled. Her face grew cloudy and she reached into her cloak and took a pair of silver scissors out. Grasping Rapunzel's hair in one hand, she cut through the beautiful locks with the other. "You won't be needing this long hair where you are going. It might attract all sorts of beasties from the swamp." "Why are you doing this, Mother?" "Don't you know? I raised you to become me when I am gone. But you have now disobeyed me. Tell me you have not been with the prince and we can see if that is still possible." Rapunzel looked at Mother Goethels and frowned, but kept her mouth tightly closed. Taking Rapunzel's hair from the floor, she wrapped it tightly around the hook and pushed Rapunzel out of the window and down the golden thread. Following her down immediately, she spoke an incantation that kept Rapunzel frozen in place. She took some cord from her apron and roughly bound her hands behind her back. Pushing her ahead she made her lie on the floor of the cart and took care to make certain that the cord from her hands was tied securely to the seat in the front. Rapunzel was trapped and would not be free to move until the witch released her. The cart started moving and though she had moved to a position where she was sitting with her back against the front of the wagon, all she could do was watch as the tower became smaller and smaller the further they traveled. Even from her view from behind she could tell that they were traveling on roads that she never knew existed. Instead of the light of sun playing on her face, she felt the coldness of the deep woods caress her. Soon the smell of decay that Mother Goethel identified as the swamp filled her nostrils. The cart came to a rough stop and Rapunzel's head bounced off the back of the seat as they stopped. Removing her from the wagon, Rapunzel was led into the small house near the edge of the swamp. Mother Goethels called for her sister. A witch more hideous to look at than Rapunzel could ever imagine came from the shadows and the two led her into a small room where her hands were released. The door closed behind her and she could hear their muffled voiced as they talked for a long time. After her sister agreed to keep her locked in the room, Mother Goethels returned as quickly as the donkey cart would take her to the tower. Taking care to hide the cart, she climbed the golden rope into the tower and waited for the prince to arrive. As an after thought she spoke an incantation and pointed her stick at the ground. Briars grew almost immediately and surrounded the tower. When the prince came riding up on his horse, he was so anxious to see her that he didn't even notice the addition of the treacherous thorns. "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair," He called with a smile in his voice. He was hopelessly in love with the young girl and it was his intention to remove her from the tower and take her to the castle that very day. The hair slipped smoothly out of the window and he climbed up the tower easily. When he reached the top of the hair rope, he looked into the tower to see his love. Instead of finding her, he saw only the old witch standing over him with her staff pointed at the hair he clung to. He heard the witch speaking an ancient language, forgotten by men, deep in her throat and suddenly began to feel the tresses begin to move in his hands. Instead of the secure rope he held, he soon was trying to hang onto a writhing snake. Screaming loudly, he lost his grip and fell into the briars. Cruel thorns pierced his body in a thousand places and two of them blinded him. The witch left the tower never to return with the prince still trapped in the briars. In time he freed himself but he was quite blind. Without the ability to see he journeyed far to try and make it back to his kingdom. Without the benefit of being able to see he was forced to beg for his bread. Months passed and he could not find his way back home. By this time he had wandered far and despaired of ever finding his home. We can only imagine the terrible time that Rapunzel had in the cottage by the swamp. Endlessly tormented by the insects that infested house, her body was stung until her skin was raw. But, she did manage to survive and in time she delivered a child -- a boy. The prince's son. The arrival of the child in no way eased her torment, instead it seemed to incense the witch and her sister. But, in time the witch's sister died and Rapunzel escaped the cottage/prison with her child. Without a place to go she wandered through the countryside carrying the baby in her arms. She had no idea of what to do. One day as she sat in the cool shade of a friendly tree, she saw a beggar walking down the road tapping a stick in front of him. She called to him, "Though I don't have much, I will share." The beggar came closer and she recognized him as her prince. The tears welled in her eyes and she cradled his head to her chest. The tears fell down her cheeks and washed the prince's face clean. A tear found its way into each eye and he was healed of all the ill the witch had done. Their gladness at finding each other filled the air. With his sight restored they found their way back to his kingdom and lived happily every after. The End River of the Princess by Micha F. Lindemans -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A long time ago, the land of Romania was devastated by a disastrous drought. Men crept about like ghosts with their bones starting through their skins and their lips drawn back so that their teeth lay bare. They wore nothing but a few rags upon their bodies. The beautiful princess Irina felt her heart breaking for pity, and wringing her hands, prayed thus, "Oh good God, hast Thou, then, quite forsaken me? Wilt Thou bring our poor land to destruction? Have we sinned yet more that we must endure such searchings-out of Thy wrath?" Then a soft, cool breath stole in, bearing a perfume as from the most beautiful of gardens, and a silvery voice spoke, "Help shall arise for thee out of a river. Only seek." Then, through the burning summer heat, the princess began a weary pilgrimage toward the rivers. Occasionally, she would stumble upon a starved little horse that would carry her for a short distance, and then fall down dead, even beneath her own light weight. Most of the time, however, Irina walked the barren land herself. She went up the Olto river, the Gin, the Buzlu, the Sereth, all the rivers both great and small. They flowed but meagerly over their stony beds, and those once mighty waters scarcely whispered as they went, they that of old were wont to rush and roar. "Merciful God!", prayed the princess, "Let but a little cloud appear when I have found the river that is to help us!" But no cloud appeared, and she was forced to seek further and further. She was wandering for a second time up the banks of the Argesch, and was just about to turn sadly back, when she caught sight of the mouth of a little stream that she had not noticed before. Too tired to investigate, she lay herself to sleep beside the river. When she awoke the next morning, the river was no longer brown, but clear and blue as the air, and at the bottom of the water something shone and glittered as the sunbeams themselves. She girt up her garments and waded in to find out what it was that shone with so wondrous a gleam. And lo! it was pure gold. She fell on her knees, right there in the stream, and gave God thanks, aloud and earnestly. She had found gold and now she could finally help. The princess went carefully on through the water and gathered up the golden grains and little fragments, filling her mantle with them until the burden was almost too heavy to bear. Then, she hurried home with her treasure and poured it out before her husband. Her children were yet alive, though weak and sorely exhausted. They scarcely knew her again, so emaciated and sunburnt she was. With the treasure, they sent forth messengers into distant lands to buy corn, maize and hay, seeds and cattle; and the river never grew weary of giving gold until the famine was at an end, and laughing, green, and sleek cattle covered the Romanian meadows once more. The Tale of Taliesin by Jennifer Cochrane -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Once there was a witch named Ceridwen, and she had two children. The one, her daughter, was as beautiful a child as you could ever hope to see; the other, her son Morfran, was so ugly, ill-favored and stupid that he sickened everyone who saw him. Ceridwen was grieved that Morfran was so horrible, and resolved by her magic arts to make him into such a great bard that no-one would mind his ugliness. She began to cast a great spell. Many were the plants that she cast into her cauldron, many the incantations said over it. An old blind man named Morda was set to keep the fires burning beneath it, assisted by a young boy, Gwion. The Cauldron of Wisdom and Inspiration must be kept boiling for a year and a day, and then the first three drops from it would impart ultimate knowledge to the one who drank them. But the rest of the liquid would be deadly poison. Long labored Ceridwen, roaming far to find the rare and exotic herbs she required, and so it chanced that she fell asleep on the last day of the spell. The boy Gwion was stirring the brew when three drops flew out onto his thumb, and they were scalding hot, so that he thrust it into his mouth to stop the burning. Instantly, he had the wisdom and inspiration of ages, and the first thing that occurred to him was that Ceridwen would be very angry. He ran away from the house of Ceridwen, but all too soon he heard the fury of her pursuit. Using his new magical powers, he turned himself into a hare. She turned into a greyhound bitch, and gained ever more on him. He came to a river, and quick as thinking became a fish. She became an otter. He leapt from the water, and in the middle of his leap became a bird of the air. The witch Ceridwen became a hawk. In desperation, he looked down and saw a pile of wheat. He dived, landed, and as it scattered he turned into a single grain. Then she landed and became a hen, and pecked at the grain until she had swallowed Gwion. Soon after, Ceridwen found herself with child, though she had lain with no man. When she realized that the baby was Gwion, she resolved to kill it, and Morfran wanted her to also, in revenge for his not becoming a bard. In due course, the babe was born, and Morfran would have slaughtered him on the spot, but the mother said no, because it was the most beautiful child ever seen. But she took him and, sewing him in a bag, set him adrift on the ocean. Now there was at that time in Gwynedd, a lord named Gwyddno Garanhir, who had a son, Elphin, that was reckoned the most unlucky man alive. There was a weir on Gwyddno's land that had always had a huge catch of salmon in it on May Eve, so Gwyddno resolved to let Elphin have it to help turn his luck. So it was that on May Eve, Elphin and two of his father's men went to the weir. Net after net he pulled, but there were no fish. "Why, you've turned the luck of the weir," they growled. "Just wait," said Elphin, "I haven't finished yet. There might still be something..." There were no fish. But just as they were about to go, Elphin noticed something caught on a pole of the weir. He waded out and brought it back. "More bad luck," grumbled the men. "There may be a treasure inside," Elphin replied as he carefully slit open the greased leather bag he held. To his very great astonishment, he saw the forehead of a baby, so white and beautiful that it seemed to shine. "A radiant brow!" he exclaimed. (tal iesin in Welsh.) "Yes, Taliesin, that will do well enough," said the baby. Elphin was so surprised he nearly dropped it. The men muttered and made the sign against evil. He put the child in front of him on the horse and they rode for home. While they rode, Elphin's thoughts were gloomy, as he realized they still had no salmon. But the babe in front of him spoke, saying "Fair Elphin, cease your lament! Swearing profits no-one. It is not evil to hope Nor does any man see what supports him, Not an empty treasure is the prayer of Cynllo, Nor does God break his promise. No catch in Gwyddno's weir Was ever as good as tonight's. "Fair Elphin, dry your cheeks! Such sorrow does not become you, Although you consider yourself cheated Excessive sorrow gains nothing, Nor will doubting God's miracles. Although I am small, I am skilful. From the sea and the mountain, From the river's depth God gives His gifts to the blessed. "Elphin of the generous spirit, Cowardly is your purpose, You must not grieve so heavily. Better are good than evil omens. though I am weak and small, Spumed with Dylan's wave, I shall be better for you Than three hundred shares of salmon. "Elphin of noble generosity, Do not sorrow at your catch. Though I am weak on the floor of my basket, There are wonders on my tongue. "While I am watching over you, no great need will overcome you. be mindful of the name of the Trinity And none shall overcome you." "How can this be, that you, a babe, can talk?" marveled Elphin. Again Taliesin replied with a poem. "Firstly I was formed in the shape of a handsome man, in the hall of Ceridwen in order to be refined. Although small and modest in my behavior, I was great in her lofty sanctuary. "While I was held prisoner, sweet inspiration educated me and laws were imparted to me in a speech which had no words; but I had to flee from the angry, terrible hag whose outcry was terrifying. "Since then I have fled in the shape of a crow, since then I have fled as a speedy frog, since then I have fled with rage in my chains, - a roe-buck in a dense thicket. "I have fled in the shape of a raven of prophetic speech, in the shape of a satirizing fox, in the shape of a sure swift, in the shape of a squirrel vainly hiding. "I have fled in the shape of a red deer, in the shape of iron in a fierce fire, in the shape of a sword sowing death and disaster, in the shape of a bull, relentlessly struggling. "I have fled in the shape of a bristly boar in a ravine, in the shape of a grain of wheat. I have been taken by the talons of a bird of prey which increased until it took the size of a foal. "Floating like a boat in its waters, I was thrown into a dark bag, and on an endless sea, I was set adrift. "Just as I was suffocating, I had a happy omen, and the master of the Heavens brought me to liberty." By the time he finished, they had arrived at the court of Gwyddno. Everyone crowded round to see how big the catch was. Elphin held up Taliesin for them all to see. "What is that? Where is the catch?" asked Gwyddno. "Here is the catch, father, see, I have caught a bard." "Well, what use is that? Don't you have a good wife, who can bear you many strong sons of your own?" "He will get more profit from me than the weir ever gave you," said Taliesin. "Can you speak, and you so small?" asked Gwyddno. "Indeed, I am better able to answer than you are to question me." claimed the baby. Then Gwyddno asked him what else he had to say, and Taliesin replied with another poem. So Elphin rejoiced, that his luck had turned, and gave Taliesin to his wife to care for. She loved the baby very much, and time passed and he grew up. The king of the land at that time was Maelgwn, a somewhat vain man who surrounded himself with toadies and fawning sycophants. The year that Taliesin turned thirteen, Elphin received a summons from the king, demanding his presence at the Christ Mass feast at midwinter. Elphin would much rather have stayed home with his wife and foster son, but as a dutiful subject (and a relative of the king besides) he went. As they all sat around the high table, the other men vied with one another to see who could praise Maelgwn the most. Elphin was an honest man, and he couldn't honestly say that the king's bards were better or the queen a fairer woman, than those waiting at his home. "What, so silent, Elphin? Can our loyal subject then find nothing to praise his king for?" said Maelgwn. "Well, my lord," said Elphin, "I would say that though I am not a king, yet my wife is as fair and as virtuous as any woman in the kingdom - and my bard the best in Gwynedd." "Insolence!" roared Maelgwn. "Throw him in our deepest dungeon! Let him be chained there until the falsity of his monstrous claim can be shown once and for all! And we think we know just how to do that..." Taliesin was out skating. As he bent down to take the skates off, he glanced at a patch of ice, and fell into a trance, where he saw all that had befallen Elphin. When he woke, he rushed home to tell Elphin's wife. Maelgwn had a son named Rhun, a lecher so revolting that to be seen with him would tarnish a woman's reputation beyond repair. This son he sent to Elphin's home, to seduce his wife and show the falsity of his claim. When Rhun came to the gate, he was welcomed, if not warmly, then civilly, by young Taliesin. He showed the prince into the hall, where sat a woman dressed in finery, with rings upon her fingers and a golden torque. "How delicious!" thought Rhun. "I'll enjoy this, I can tell." She made him welcome and they supped together. Rhun poured cup after cup of wine for her, and foolishly she drank it all. Soon she was giggly and silly, and she assented to his request to withdraw with him to some place more private. Rhun waited until she fell asleep in a drunken stupor, then tried to remove the ring from her plump hand. It would not come off, so quick as lightning he cut the finger off, ring and all. Laughing, he rode back to his father's house. Maelgwn was delighted with his son's performance. He called for Elphin to be brought forth. "Well, cousin, how say you now? The prince Rhun has had your wife with her willing cooperation. Do you persist in your stupid claim that she is so very fair and virtuous?" Elphin paled, and feared for his wife, for he did not really believe that any woman, let alone she, would lie with Rhun by choice. "How do you know this, my king?" he asked. "My son's word is good enough for me - and should be for you, too." "I'm sorry, my king, but even the money-lenders ask for solid proof where the prince Rhun is concerned." The king growled, but the courtiers were, this once, murmuring in agreement with Elphin. "Since that's not enough for you, see here is her finger. Do you deny that this is her ring?" Elphin looked closely at the severed digit. "Indeed, my lord, it is her ring, but I do deny that it's on her finger." "How so, knave?" roared the enraged monarch. "For three reasons, my king. First, my wife is a small woman, and this ring sits loosely on her thumb, but it's jammed so tightly on this finger that it won't come off. Second, ever since I've known her, my wife has trimmed her nails every Sabbath Eve, and this nail hasn't been trimmed this month, I'd say. Third, we keep servants for kneading bread dough - I certainly don't require my lady wife to do it. And yet you see under this nail and in the creases of the finger, traces of the rye dough this hand was lately kneading. I fear that the prince has despoiled some innocent kitchen wench, but whoever it was, it wasn't my wife." The court cowered before Maelgwn's fury. "You won't get away from it that easily!" Maelgwn declared. "If your bard is so great, let him come and compete with ours. Now take him away, before we get tired of him." Hurriedly, the guards took Elphin back to the cell. Taliesin was already seeing about provisions for the journey, while Elphin's wife looked after the poor nine-fingered maidservant. He arrived at the court two days later, and slipped through the gates. He made his way to the throne room and sat in the corner. When the king's bards filed in, he pouted his lips at them and played blerwm, blerwm on them, and the bards stood still and played blerwm, blerwm on their lips instead of praising Maelgwn. Maelgwn finally ordered a guard to strike Heinnin Fardd, his chief bard. This broke their trance enough that Heinnin Fardd could explain to Maelgwn that there was a devil in the form of a child who had cast a spell on them. Then Maelgwn had Taliesin brought out, and questioned him. "I have come to salvage Elphin's honor and his freedom. Taliesin am I, primary chief bard to Elphin. "Primary chief poet Am I to Elphin. And my native country Is the place of the Summer Stars. "John the Divine Called me Merlin, But all future kings Shall call me Taliesin. "I was nine full months In the womb of Ceridwen. Before that I was Gwion, But now I am Taliesin. "I was with my king In the heavens When Lucifer fell Into the deepest hell. "I carried the banner Before Alexander. I know the names of the stars From the North to the South. "I was in Caer Bedion Tetragrammaton. I accompanied Heon To the vale of Hebron. "I was in the canon When Absalom was slain. I was in Llys Don Before the birth of Gwydion. "I was patriarch To Elijah and Enoch. I was there at the crucifixion Of the merciful Mabon. "I was the foreman At the construction of Nimrod's Tower. I was three times In the prison of Arianrhod. "I was in the ark With Noah and Alpha I witnessed the destruction Of Sodom and Gomorrah. "I was in Africa Before the building of Rome. I came here To the remnant of Troy "I was with the Lord In the manger of the ass. I upheld Moses Through the water of Jordan. "I was at the Cross With Mary Magdalene. I received the muse From Ceridwen's cauldron. "I was a harping bard To Deon of Lochlin. I have gone hungry For the Righteous One. "I was at the White Mount in the court of Cynfelyn. In stocks and in fetters For a year and a day. "I was in the larder In the land of the Trinity. And no-one knows whether my body Is flesh or fish. "I was instructor To the whole universe. I shall be until the judgement On the face of the Earth. "I have sat in the perilous seat Above Caer Sidi. I shall continue to revolve Between the three elements. "There is a marvel in the world Which I cannot reveal." "And all this makes you think you're better than my bards," sneered Maelgwn, "My bards, who have trained for twenty years." "They are as nothing beside me," declared Taliesin. "Well then, my lord," said Heinnin Fardd, so as not to be left entirely out of the proceedings, "certainly a contest will decide the matter." "Why not? Me against all the king's bards. The contest - to compose a poem on the wind." Taliesin was serenely confident. "Of course the king must judge," fawned Heinnin Fardd. "Who better?" "And this contest will take place in twenty minutes," Maelgwn announced. (He was getting bored.) "Twenty... my lord, I entreat you, I implore you, how can an epic be composed in -" Heinnin Fardd was desperate. "Just do it, get on with it, I'm getting sick of this." Heinnin Fardd and the king's bards huddled in the corner, consulting scrolls of rhymes and metaphors. Every so often, one let out a yelp of frustration. Taliesin lounged on the floor, laughing at their discomfiture. When the time was up, the king's bards stood in a line before the throne and bowed. "O greatest of kings, hear our song. Blerwm, blerwm, blerwm, blerwm, blerwm, blerwm, blerwm, blerwm." "Knaves! Fools! Miserable swine! Was it for this that I paid you in gold and precious gems?" The court had never seen Maelgwn so angry. The bards groveled in the rushes. "Mighty king, it was not our fault! It's that demon child." Taliesin, admittedly, was smirking in a most irritating fashion. "So it's my turn?" he asked. He stood up straight and began. While he sang, a great wind arose and buffeted the castle, shaking it to its foundations. Maelgwn was afraid, and he called for Elphin to be brought out. As soon as Elphin was brought out, Taliesin stopped the wind, and sang a new song that caused Elphin's chains to fall away from his ankles and wrists. Then he cried out to Elphin's wife to enter the hall, and she held her hands up so that everyone could see that she had ten fingers. Maelgwn was angrier than ever. "You think you're so great. You're nothing! I bet my horses are better than yours, anyway." Taliesin smiled and whispered to Elphin, "Take him up on it - I know how to make us win." "I accept, my king." "Then let there be a horse race." Elphin led the other two home. On the appointed day, they returned, leading a lame old horse. Maelgwn rubbed his hands in glee. The horses started - Taliesin riding old Dobbin. As each horse of the king's overtook him, he struck it on the rump with a holly twig, then let it fall. As the king's horses got further and further ahead, no-one could understand why Taliesin was still smiling. He slowed down and dropped his cap - again, no-one knew why. Old Dobbin reached half-way, and Taliesin stopped him for a rest. The king's horses had long since passed them on the way back. Dobbin started back. As the king's horses passed the discarded holly twigs that Taliesin had struck them with, they stopped, reared up on their hind legs, and began to dance. The whole court was in fits of ill-concealed laughter, except Maelgwn and Rhun. Taliesin and Dobbin wandered past them to the finish line. Maelgwn saw no alternative to letting them go. On the way home, Taliesin bid Elphin stop where he had dropped his cap. He had some men dig a hole at the spot, and they dug up a great chest full of treasure. "Truly, Taliesin, never could I regret the day I pulled you out from the weir," said Elphin as they rode away. (It is said that afterwards, Taliesin went to the court of Arthur, where he was chief harper and adviser to the king.) *Asia* Moonflowerf by Ilil Arbel, Ph.D. Moonflower (or how the Moonhorses came to Japan) The moon shone softly into the dark, bare little house, filling it with silvery mist. The woman walked in silently and sat by her husband. "My honorable cousin, the mayor, refuses our request," said the woman sadly, "we are too poor to adopt an orphan." "Did you mention that unless we raise a child in the tradition of our ancestors, we may never have better luck?" asked the horse-farmer. "Yes. He knows that if you cannot have a child, you must adopt one to raise as your own, or the spirits of your ancestors will be displeased -- they need children and grandchildren to remember their names. But he feels he cannot risk the child starving. He pointed out that we don’t have a single horse left, and the village can no longer help us." They sat by the window together for a long time. They wanted a child so much, and now had no hope at all. Image drawn exclusively for the Encyclopedia Mythica by Patricia J. Wynne. Suddenly the moon shone brighter, and a single moon beam entered through the window. It wandered around, finally settling on a table. A small dot hurried down the beam, growing all the time, until a tiny silvery-white horse, no bigger than a mouse, came through the window. On his back he carried a red-flowering cherry branch, with most of the wine-colored flowers closed. A deep, comforting voice filled the room. "Do not be sad. I, the moon, will trust you with one of my children. Look at the cherry branch." One flower slowly, magically, opened its petals. Among them sat a tiny baby, the size of a fingernail. "This is Moonflower," continued the moon. "She will bring you happiness and good fortune. However, she cannot marry an Earthman, and must return to me when she is eighteen years old. Use the years wisely, and all will be well. Now pick her from the flower and put her on the mat." Moonflower began to grow, and in a few minutes reached the size of an Earth baby. Her hair was black as the night, her eyes bright as the stars, and her skin the color of a golden peach. She wore a pink kimono, embroidered with wine-colored cherry blossoms, and held a huge, magnificent star ruby. The little horse rubbed his nose against the baby’s glossy hair, waved his tail cheerfully, and rode up the moonbeam. "Remember to use the years wisely!" rumbled the moon’s voice, as the moonbeam slowly faded. The next day the horse-farmer sold the ruby for a fortune. Some of the money was used for the improvement of the farm; some was safely saved for the future. Years passed. The horse-farmer and his wife did very well indeed. They greatly improved their horse-breeding stables, and warriors came from all over the country to purchase the best horses from them. But riches meant little to the horse-farmer and his wife, except for the pleasure of giving Moonflower everything she could wish for. So they did little else, good or bad, with their money. Moonflower grew to be so clever, beautiful, and kind, that everyone in the village loved her, especially the mayor; he considered himself her uncle, and treated the family with much respect. Perhaps he thought it was really he who brought them this lovely moon child by refusing their request! None of them could forget, however, that Moonflower was destined to leave them. She worried about it, too, because she loved her parents with all her heart, and was very happy on Earth, playing with the village children and helping to raise the beautiful horses. One day, when she was ten years old, she heard her mother say to her father: "when Moonflower leaves us, not only will my heart break, but the spirits of our ancestors will still be displeased, because there will be no grandchildren here on Earth to remember their names! They will not be satisfied with grandchildren on the moon!" Suddenly Moonflower had an idea. She went to her parents and said: "I think it’s time I had brothers and sisters." "The moon will not send us more children, my dear," said the mother, surprised. "He did so much already by sending you." "I do not mean moon children," said Moonflower. "You are rich now. Surely the mayor, my honorable uncle, will not refuse to let you adopt some of the orphans in our village? They need a good home so much, and you will have children and grandchildren to carry on the tradition on Earth, even if my children must be born on the moon. The spirits will be pleased, and most important, the children will be a comfort to you when I am gone!" They stared at her, stunned by her wisdom. The idea never occurred to them. "Perhaps the moon meant exactly that when he said we should use the years wisely," whispered the horse-farmer. "Yes," said his wife. "All this joy, all this money, and we did nothing in return... I will visit my cousin, the mayor, tomorrow morning." The mayor was happy to oblige. As the years went by, he allowed them to adopt three boys and two girls, whom they raised with the same love and care they gave Moonflower. When Moonflowers turned eighteen, her parents, though sick at heart, invited the entire village to a big birthday celebration. Golden lanterns glowed in the large courtyard, colorful paper decorations hung in the trees, musicians played lovely music, and the tables were covered with enough food and rice wine to please everyone. At midnight, the moon suddenly shone brighter, and a single moonbeam entered the courtyard. It wandered around, finally settling on a red-flowering cherry tree. Soft, hazy figures floated in it, first at a great distance and then closer and closer. The villagers stared, frozen with awe, as the figures materialized and one by one the moon people slid down the silvery beam, each riding a magnificent, silvery-white moon horse. They were cheerful and smiling, as beautiful and as well-dressed as Moonflower. The women wore embroidered silk kimonos, the men dressed in the finest warrior’s outfits. They mingled with the village people, danced, drank rice wine, and acted just like old friends. The villagers very quickly lost their fear of the visitors. One young man stood at a little distance, holding the reins of a horse. Moonflower thought he was the handsomest person she had ever seen, and could not help smiling at him. He must have felt a little bolder by the invitation, because he bowed to her and her parents, and said: "this is your horse, Moonflower, the one that brought you here. He lives in my stables, waiting for your return, and I rode him tonight. Will you do me the honor of riding him back to the moon with me?" Moonflower smiled again. Somehow the return to the moon seemed just a little less tragic. Her parents smiled. They were still sad, but they felt the moon could not have chosen a better husband for their daughter than this well brought-up young man. Moonflower put her hand on the snowy head of her horse, and he nuzzled her gently. Then the deep, comforting voice of the moon rumbled through the courtyard: "My friends, you have used the years wisely, sharing love and good fortune with children who needed it. As your reward, you will not part from your daughter Moonflower forever. Every year, on her birthday, she will come for a long visit, and her husband and children will accompany her. It will be just as if she married into a good family in a far-off village!" And so the birthday party turned into a wedding party, the most wonderful the villagers had ever seen, because the moon people started handing everyone many presents and surprises to further celebrate the occasion. Strange wines, foodstuffs no one had ever seen before, sweets for the children in the shape of stars, silk clothes and jewelry glowing with moonlight. The party lasted almost all night. Just before dawn, the moon people mounted their horses. The horse-farmer and his wife could let Moonflower go without the heartache of eternal separation, and with the expectation of many happy reunions. They stood and watched her riding up the moonbeam, waving until they could no longer see her. And as they turned their eyes back to Earth, they were surprised by one more gift from the kindly moon, a gift that reverberated through the centuries and still gives joy today. Under the cherry tree stood two moon horses, male and female, glowing silvery-white in the light of the rising sun. Rahu and Ketu by Raghu -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The story of Rahu and Ketu is as follows: Long ago there was a great war between the Asuras (demons) and Devatas (gods). The Devatas were routed in the war and they went to Lord Brahma to seek his help. Brahma told them to churn the ocean. As a result they would be able to obtain Amrit (nectar) which would make them immortal and all powerful and after consuming it they would be able to defeat the Asuras. Churning the ocean was a very big job and so the Devatas sought the help of the Asuras. The king of the serpents Vasuki was to become the rope, while a hill named Mandrachal offered to become the pivot. Lord Vishnu, in the form of a tortoise, became the base and the churning process began. The Devatas held the tail of Vasuki and the Asuras held the head. Various things came out, during this churning of the ocean. There was a pot of Vish (poison) which created havoc in all the three worlds. Lord Shiva drank the poison to save the world, but he did not let the poison go beyond his neck which became blue in color. That is why Lord Shiva is also called 'NeelKant' ("one with a blue neck"). At last Dhanvantari came out with a pot of Amrit and immediately there was a mad scramble for it among the Devatas and Asuras. Seeing this, Lord Vishnu took the form of Mohini (a beautiful dancer) and offered her services in distributing the Amrit equally to both the Asuras and Devatas. She made both of them sit in two different rows but she gave the Amrit to the Devatas only. Towards the end, one of the Asuras saw through her trick. He went and sat among the Devatas and drank the Amrit. The moment Chandra (Moon) and Surya (Sun), who were sitting besides him, saw that he was a Asura, they informed Mohini. Lord Vishnu came in his real form and let out the Sudarshan Chakra (wheel) at the Asura. The Asura's neck was separated from the body, but he did not die as he had drunk the Amrit. His head was called 'Rahu' and his torso 'Ketu'. According to legend, Rahu and Ketu swallowed the moon and sun to have their revenge, causing an eclipse. Willow ware -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Long ago in China there lived a wealthy mandarin named T'se Lang. His palace (pictured) was of great beauty and riches.Beside the palace was a wide river and a graceful willow tree (pictured). Of all of T'se Lang's possesions, he delighted in his daughter, Koonsee, the most. Koonseespent most of her days in the summer house that leaned over the rippling river (pictured). Among the many people who worked for T'se Lang there was a young clerk named Chang. Chang had no sooner laid eyes upon Koonsee when he fell in love.She was charmed by this handsome clerk.One afternoon T'se Lang went to visit his daughter at the summer house and found Chang at her feet, reading poetry. T'se Lang became furious at this peasent for being near his daughter. He cast Chang away forever and said he would kill him if he ever came back. T'se Lang then locked poor Koonsee in a house at the end of the garden. He then had a high fence built about his palace (pictured) so that no visitors could see the broken hearted Koonsee. The mandarin then sent out to choose a husband for his daughter. He offered her hand to a rich and powerful mandarin named Ta Jin. The marraige was set for the time of the blooming of the pear trees (pictured). One day while Koonsee was sitting by the river a tiny boat floated by made of a cocoanut. Inside the tiny shell boat was a note from her love, Chang. It told of his great love for her and a request for her to run away with him. She sent her reply back in the shell. She would go with him if he would be brave enough to come and get her. Time had passed and it was now the blooming of the pear trees Koonsee was heart-broken. She feared Chang had not recieved her note in time. While Ta Jin and all the noblemen celebrated the wedding, Koonsee was in the summer house weeping. As soon as the party became quiet and all the noblemen were too drunk to move, Chang entered. Koonsee was delightedand the lovers eloped. T'se Lang spotted the lovers and chased after them over the bridge (pictured) but he was too old and too drunk to catch the young lovers. Chang and Koonsee found a small boat (pictured) and sailed away. They came upon a beautiful little island (pictured) and there they made their home. There Chang farmed and grew vegetables which he sold to the sailors passing by. One day a man that Ta Jin had sent out to find the lovers discovered their whereabouts. He reported his findings to Ta Jin. Ta Jin took his arm and attacked the small island. Chang fought bravely but was overcome. Koonsee,seeing the killing of her beloved Chang, set out to burn their home before Ta Jin could reach her. The beautiful Koonsee parished in the flames. The goddess of life looked down upon Chang and Koonsee's fate and grew sad. Leaning down from her thrown she touched the two lovers and they were changed into beautiful doves. The doves were now forever free to fly the beautiful skies of China.

Native American Kana'ti and Selu by Grey Bear -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The following legend is from traditional Cherokee oral tellings. It was also recorded in 1888 by James Mooney in a US Government Report titled: "5th Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology". Long years ago, soon after the world was made, a hunter and his wife lived at Pilot Knob with their only child, a little boy. The father's name was Kana'ti (The Lucky Hunter), and his wife was called Selu (Corn). No matter when Kana'ti went into the woods, he never failed to bring back a load of game, which his wife would cut up and prepare, washing off the blood from the meat in the river near the house. The little boy used to play down by the river every day, and one morning the old people thought they heard laughing and talking in the bushes as though there were two children there. When the boy came home at night his parents asked him who had, been playing with him all day. "He comes out of the water," said the boy, "and be calls himself my elder brother. He says his mother was cruel to him and threw him into the river." Then they knew that the strange boy had sprung from the blood of the game which Selu had washed off at the river's edge. Every day when the little boy went out to play the other would join him, but as he always went back again into the water the old people never had a chance to see him. At last one evening Kana'ti said to his son, "Tomorrow, when the other boy comes to play, get him to wrestle with you, and when you have your arms around him hold on to him and call for us." The boy promised to do as he was told, so the next day as soon as his playmate appeared he challenged him to a wrestling match. The other agreed at once, but as soon as they had their arms around each other, Kana'ti's boy began to scream for his father. The old folks at once came running down, and as soon as the Wild Boy saw them he struggled to free himself and cried out, "Let me go; you threw me away!" but his brother held on until the parents reached the spot, when they seized the Wild Boy and took him home with them. They kept him in the house until they had tamed him, but he was always wild and artful in his disposition, and was the leader of his brother in every mischief. It was not long until the old people discovered that he had magic powers, and they called him I'nage-utasvhi (He-who-grew-up-wild). Whenever Kana'ti went into the mountains he always brought back a fat buck or doe, or maybe a couple of turkeys. One day the Wild Boy said to his brother, "I wonder where our father gets all that game; let's follow him next time and find out." A few days afterward Kana'ti took a bow and some feathers in his hand and started off toward the west. The boys waited a little while and then went after him, keeping out of sight until they saw him go into a swamp where there were a great many of the small reeds that hunters use to make arrow shafts. Then the Wild Boy changed himself into a puff of bird's down, which the wind took up and carried until it alighted upon Kana'ti's shoulder just as he entered the swamp, but Kana'ti knew nothing about it. The old man cut reeds, fitted the feathers to them and made some arrows, and the Wild Boy --in his other shape -- thought, "I wonder what those things are for?" When Kana'ti had his arrows finished he came out of the swamp and went on again. The wind blew the down from his shoulder, and it fell in the woods, when the Wild Boy took his right shape again and went back and told his brother what he had seen. Keeping out of sight of their father, they followed him up the mountain until he stopped at a certain place and lifted a large rock. At once there ran out a buck, which Kana'ti shot, and then lifting it upon his back he started for home again. "Oho!" exclaimed the boys, "He keeps all the deer shut up in that hole, and whenever he wants meat he just lets one out and kills it with those things he made in the swamp." They hurried and reached home before their father, who had the heavy deer to carry, and he never knew that they had followed him. A few days later the boys went back to the swamp, cut some reeds, and made seven arrows, and then started up the mountain to where their father kept the game. When they got to the place, they raised the rock and a deer came running out. Just as they drew back to shoot it, another came out, and then another and another, until the boys got confused and forgot what they were about. In those days all the deer had their tails hanging down like other animals, but as a buck was running past the Wild Boy struck its tail with his arrow so that it pointed upward. The boys thought this good sport, and when the next one ran past the Wild Boy struck its tail so that it stood straight up, and his brother struck the next one so hard with his arrow that the deer's tail was almost curled over his back. The deer carries his tail this way ever since. The deer came running past until the last one had come out of the hole and escaped into the forest. Then came droves of raccoons, rabbits, and all the other four-footed animals — all but the bear, because there were no bear then. Last came great flocks of turkeys, pigeons, and partridges that darkened the air like a cloud and made such a noise with their wings that Kana'ti, sitting at home, heard the sound like distant thunder on the mountains and said to himself, "My bad boys have got into trouble; I must go and see what they are doing." So he went up the mountain, and when he came to the place where he kept the game he found the two boys standing by the rock, and all the birds and animals were gone. Kana'ti was furious, but without saying a word he went down into the cave and kicked the covers off four jars in one corner, when out swarmed bedbugs, fleas, lice, and gnats, and got all over the boys. They screamed with pain and fright and tried to beat off the insects, but the thousands of vermin crawled over them and bit and stung them until both dropped down nearly dead. Kana'ti stood looking on until he thought they had been punished enough, when he knocked off the vermin and gave the boys a lecture. "Now, you rascals," said he, "you have always had plenty to eat and never had to work for it. Whenever you were hungry all I had to do was to come up here and get a deer or a turkey and bring it home for your mother to cook; but now you have let out all the animals, and after this when you want a deer to eat you will have to hunt all over the woods for it, and then maybe not find one." "Go home now to your mother, while I see if I can find something to eat for supper." When the boys got home again they were very tired and hungry and asked their mother for something to eat. "There is no meat," said Selu, "but wait a little while and I'll get you something." So she took a basket and started out to the storehouse. This storehouse was built upon poles high up from the ground, to keep it out of the reach of animals, and there was a ladder to climb up by, and one door, but no other opening. Every day when Selu got ready to cook the dinner she would go out to the storehouse with a basket and bring it back full of corn and beans. The boys had never been inside the storehouse, so they wondered where all the corn and beans could come from, as the house was not a very large one; so as soon as Selu went out of the door the Wild Boy said to his brother, "Let's go and see what she does." They ran around and climbed up at the back of the storehouse and pulled out a piece of clay from between the logs, so that they could look in. There they saw Selu standing in the middle of the room with the basket in front of her on the floor. Leaning over the basket, she rubbed her stomach around and around – counterclockwise — and the basket was half full of corn. Then she rubbed under her armpits in the same way and the basket was full to the top with beans. The boys looked at each other and said, "This will never do; our mother is a witch. If we eat any of that it will poison us. We must kill her." When the boys came back into the house, she knew their thoughts before they spoke. "So you are going to kill me?", said Selu. "Yes," said the boys, "You are a witch." "Well," said their mother, "When you have killed me, clear a large piece of ground in front of the house and drag my body seven times around the circle. Then drag me seven times over the ground inside the circle, and stay up all night and watch, and in the morning you will have plenty of corn." The boys killed her with their clubs, and cut off her head and put it up on the roof of the house with her face turned to the west, and told her to look for her husband. Then they set to work to clear the ground in front of the house, but instead of clearing the whole piece they cleared only seven little spots. This is why corn now grows only in a few places instead of over the whole world. They dragged the body of Selu around the circle, and wherever her blood fell on the ground the corn sprang up. But instead of dragging her body seven times across the ground they dragged it over only twice, which is the reason the people still work their crop but twice. The two brothers sat up and watched their corn all night, and in the morning it was full grown and ripe. When Kana'ti came home at last, he looked around, but could not see Selu anywhere, and asked the boys where their mother was. "She was a witch, and we killed her," said the boys; "There is her head up there on top of the house." When he saw his wife's head on the roof, he was very angry, and said, "I won't stay with you any longer; I am going to the Wolf people." So he started off, but before be had gone far the Wild Boy changed himself again to a tuft of down, which fell on Kana'ti's shoulder. When Kana'ti reached the settlement of the Wolf people, they were holding a council in the townhouse. He went in and sat down with the tuft of bird's down on his shoulder, but he never noticed it. When the Wolf chief asked him his business, he said: "I have two bad boys at home, and I want you to go in seven days from now and play ball against them." Although Kana'ti spoke as though he wanted them to play a game of ball, the Wolves knew that he meant for them to go and kill the two boys. They promised to go. Then the bird's down blew off from Kana'ti's shoulder, and the smoke carried it up through the hole in the roof of the townhouse. When it came down on the ground outside, the Wild Boy took his right shape again and went home and told his brother all that he had heard in the townhouse. But when Kana'ti left the Wolf people, he did not return home, but went on farther. The boys then began to get ready for the Wolves, and the Wild Boy — the magician — told his brother what to do. They ran around the house in a wide circle until they had made a trail all around it excepting on the side from which the Wolves would come, where they left a small open space. Then they made four large bundles of arrows and placed them at four different points on the outside of the circle, after which they hid themselves in the woods and waited for the Wolves. In a day or two a whole party of Wolves came and surrounded the house to kill the boys. The Wolves did not notice the trail around the house, because they came in where the boys had left the opening, but the moment they went inside the circle the trail changed to a high brush fence and shut them in. Then the boys on the outside took their arrows and began shooting them down, and as the Wolves could not jump over the fence they were all killed, excepting a few that escaped through the opening into a great swamp close by. The boys ran around the swamp, and a circle of fire sprang up in their tracks and set fire to the grass and bushes and burned up nearly all the other Wolves. Only two or three got away, and from these have come all the wolves that are now in the world. Soon afterward some strangers from a distance, who had heard that the brothers had a wonderful grain from which they made bread, came to ask for some, for none but Selu and her family had ever known corn before. The boys gave them seven grains of corn, which they told them to plant the next night on their way home, sitting up all night to watch the corn, which would have seven ripe ears in the morning. These they were to plant the next night and watch in the same way, and so on every night until they reached home, when they would have corn enough to supply the whole people. The strangers lived seven days' journey away. They took the seven grains and watched all through the darkness until morning, when they saw seven tall stalks, each stalk bearing a ripened ear. They gathered the ears and went on their way. The next night they planted all their corn, and guarded it as before until daybreak, when they found an abundant increase. But the way was long and the sun was hot, and the people grew tired. On the last night before reaching home they fell asleep, and in the morning the corn they had planted had not even sprouted. They brought with them to their settlement what corn they had left and planted it, and with care and attention were able to raise a crop. But ever since the corn must be watched and tended through half the year, which before would grow and ripen in a night. When Kana'ti did not return, the boys at last decided to go and find him. The Wild Boy took a gaming wheel and rolled it toward the Darkening land. In a little while the wheel came rolling back, and the boys knew their father was not there. He rolled it to the south and to the north, and each time the wheel came back to him, and they knew their father was not there. Then he rolled it toward the Sun Land, and it did not return. "Our father is there," said the Wild Boy, "Let us go and find him." So the two brothers set off toward the east, and after traveling a long time they came upon Kana'ti walking along with a little dog by his side. "You bad boys," said their father, "You have found me when I didn't want to see you again." "Yes," they answered, "We always accomplish what we start out to do — we are men." "This dog overtook me four days ago," Kana'ti said, but the boys knew that the dog was the wheel which they had sent after him to find him. "Well," said Kana'ti, "As long as you have found me, we may as well travel together, but I shall take the lead." Soon they came to a swamp, and Kana'ti told them there was something dangerous there and they must keep away from it. He went on ahead, but as soon as he was out of sight the Wild Boy said to his brother, "Come and let us see what is in the swamp." They went in together, and in the middle of the swamp, they found a large panther sleep. The Wild Boy got out an arrow and shot the panther in the side of the head. The panther turned his head and the other boy shot him on that side. He turned his head away again and the two brothers shot together — tusssst, tusssst, tusssst! But the panther was not hurt by the arrows and paid no more attention to the boys. They came out of the swamp and soon overtook Kana'ti, waiting for them. "Did you find it?" asked Kana'ti. "Yes," said the boys, "We found it, but it never hurt us. We are men." Kana'ti was surprised, but said nothing, and they went on again. After a while he turned to them and said, "Now you must be careful. We are coming to a tribe called the Anada'dvtaski ("Roasters"), and if they get you they will put you into a pot and feast on you." Then he went on ahead. Soon the boys came to a tree which had been struck by lightning, and the Wild Boy directed his brother to gather some of the splinters from the tree and told him what to do with them. In a little while they came to the settlement of the cannibals, who, as soon as they saw the boys, came running out, crying, "Good, here are two nice fat strangers. Now we'll have a grand feast! They caught the boys and dragged them into the townhouse, and sent word to all the people of the settlement to come to the feast. They made up a great fire, put water into a large pot and set it to boiling, and then seized the Wild Boy and put him down into it. His brother was not in the least frightened and made no attempt to escape, but quietly knelt down and began putting the splinters into the fire, as if to make it burn better. When the cannibals thought the meat was about ready they lifted the pot from the fire, and that instant a blinding light filled the townhouse, and the lightning began to dart from one side to the other, striking down the cannibals until not one of them was left alive. Then the lightning went up through the smoke-hole, and the next moment there were the two boys standing outside the townhouse as though nothing had happened. They went on and soon met Kana'ti, who seemed much surprised to see them, and said, "What! are you here again?" "0h, yes, we never give up. We are great men!" "What did the Cannibals do to you?" "We met them and they brought us to their townhouse, but they never hurt us." Kana'ti said nothing more, and they went on. He soon got out of sight of the boys, but they kept on until they came to the end of the world, where the sun comes out. The sky was just coming down when they got there, but they waited until it went up again, and then they went through and climbed up on the other side. There they found Kana'ti and Selu sitting together. The old folk received them kindly and were glad to see them, telling them they might stay there a while, but then they must go to live where the sun goes down. The boys stayed with their parents seven days and then went on toward the Darkening land, where they are now. We call them Anisga'ya Tsunsdi' (The Little Men), and when they talk to each other we hear low rolling thunder in the west. After Kana'ti's boys had let the deer out from the cave where their father used to keep them, the hunters tramped about in the woods for a long time without finding any game, so that the people were very hungry. At last they heard that the Thunder Boys were now living in the far west, beyond the sun door, and that if they were sent for they could bring hack the game. So they sent messengers for them, and the boys came and sat down in the middle of the townhouse and began to sing. At the first song there was a roaring sound like a strong wind in the. northwest, and it grew louder and nearer as the boys sang on, until at the seventh song a whole herd of deer, led by a large buck, came out from the woods. The boys had told the people to be ready with their bows and arrows, and when the song was ended and all the deer were close around the townhouse, the hunters shot into them and killed as many as they needed before the herd could get back into the timber. Then the Thunder Boys went back to the Darkening land, but before they left they taught the people the seven songs with which to call up the deer. It all happened so long ago that the songs are now forgotten -- all but two, which the hunters still sing whenever they go after deer. Iktomi by Richard L. Dieterle -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- There once was a circular village in the mountains where a boy named 'Running Antelope' lived with his grandmother. He was with a group of people who went to visit a prairie village ruled over by a cruel chief. The chief was fond of a very beautiful maiden named 'Little Hill', but could not succeeded in winning her over. When Running Antelope saw Little Hill he was smitten by her beauty, and spent most of his time with her. Finally they were married, and the couple lived in her village. However, the chief was very unhappy with this turn of events, and threatened that some day he would take her away from Running Antelope. Almost every night when people gathered in the center of the village for games and entertainment, the chief would try to win their affection by casting beautiful and valuable pieces of corral, turquoise, and beads onto the ground for people to pick up. Running Antelope collected many beads and went home to present them to his new wife, but when he got to his lodge, Little Hill could not be found anywhere. So Running Antelope snuck up to the chief's lodge and, as he expected, he heard within the voice of Little Hill singing. He burst into the lodge, and demanded the return of his wife, but the chief pulled a knife and Running Antelope had to flee. The chief grabbed his quiver of poisoned arrows and chased after him, shooting at the young man as they ran. Running Antelope was on the verge of being overtaken by his pursuer when he came to the sandy bank of a lake. There he prayed to the Waterspirits of the lake to save him, and without further hesitation he jumped into the waters. The Waterspirits shot a great swirling geyser of water into the sky which hurled Running Antelope all the way to the moon. When the chief came upon this scene, he shut his eyes tightly for fear that seeing the spirits would kill him. So Running Antelope was saved from the chief, but forever separated from his beloved wife. He is the man that we see in the moon. One day the chief was out near a lake when his eyes fell upon the reflected image of the moon. To him the image of Running Antelope was so vivid that he thought his enemy was right there in the waters, so he rushed in after him. That was his undoing, for the Waterspirits overwhelmed him with wave upon wave of water until he drowned. The coming of medicine by Micha F. Lindemans -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A very long time ago, man and animal lived together in peace and harmony. Then suddenly this changed, when some greedy people began to hunt only to sell the meat and fur. This caused the animal population to dwindle, greatly concerning the animals. The white bear called a council of animals to decide on how to avenge themselves. They argued for a long time, but they could not agree. Then the oldest and wisest flies offered a suggestion. "Let us call upon the spirits" he said. "We will ask them to send great sickness on the people, and we will carry the diseases". Not long after that, a great sickness spread indeed through all the Native American villages -- attacking the good as well as the bad. Since the animals only wanted to punish the bad people, they were saddened to see the good ones were suffering as well. They called another council to discuss what was to be done. The lowly herbs came with a solution; they promised to heal the sick. Then, spirit dreams were sent to the Shamans to guide them to the herbs. This is how healing medicine was brought to the Native Americans. Ullikana by Ilil Arbel, Ph.D. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The tale of Ullikana was discovered by Mr. Alpheus Hardy, a gentleman from Boston who spent many years as a China trader during the nineteenth century. His ships sailed the Pacific, and being an intelligent, curious person, he learned much that was forbidden knowledge to Westerners at that time. Notes regarding this Hawaiian tale, along with some other information written in one of Mr. Hardy's diaries, was sent to me some years ago by Mr. Hardy's great grandson, with permission to tell it when I see fit. I think I may tell it now. Image drawn exclusively for the Encyclopedia Mythica by Patricia J. Wynne. When the world was young and some islands were still emerging from the turbulent water of the Pacific Ocean, every animal had a guardian spirit. The animals patiently endured hard labor and unkind masters; they knew that some day a loving guardian spirit would lead them to the next world, to receive their just reward. When necessary, the guardian spirits also intervened between the gods and the animals, because only humans were permitted to pray directly to the gods. For animals such behavior was taboo, but they did not resent that. The noble pigs, the chickens, the goats and all the other animals were content. But when the visitors from the mysterious lands of Europe came, the great change followed. For the foreigners brought a new animal to Hawaii, an animal that had never lived there and therefore could not acquire a guardian spirit -- the horse. As the Europeans did not believe in guardian sprits, they neglected to pray to the gods to send one to the new animals, and none came. The horses suffered. They worked faithfully, as horses always do, but some of their masters treated them harshly, the heat oppressed them, and they missed their homeland. Worst of all, they saw that all the other animals looked forward to the great forests and meadows of the next world, while the horses could hope for no such reward. Without a guardian spirit, how could you possibly pass the gates to the next world? Despair settled on the community of horses like a great cloud of ashes. They worked, suffered and died without hope. But one day, a small mare named Ullikana could bear it no longer. Her dearest friend was dying, and Ullikana felt she could not let her go. Not without the certainty of a guardian spirit conducting her safely to the next world. She assembled the other horses of her stable, and spoke. "Horses, as none of our masters is willing to pray to the gods to give us a guardian spirit, we must do it ourselves. Even if we chance offending the gods, can our fate be any worse? Let us have courage, and if the gods are enraged by out breaking the taboo, and kill us, what are we going to lose but a few years of sorrow?" The horses stood in awe; no animal had ever broken the terrible taboo. But they had to agree this was their only choice. They went outside into the warm, silent night, lit by a red moon surrounded by a halo that promised a storm. The dying horse could see them from inside, but her strength drained swiftly, and they knew that only speed would save her soul. The horses formed a circle, facing outside, tails entwined, so as not to offend the gods by turning their backs on them. Ullikana led, and they followed, whispering their prayer to the gods, trembling with terror. Suddenly, a soft blue light glowed in the dark sky. Slowly it floated down, finally to hover, shimmering, above the cowering animals. The light strengthened, became denser, and finally shaped itself into a magnificent blue horse with silver wings. "I am your guardian spirit," said the apparition. "The gods granted your wish. They sent you a message, which you must tell all the other animals as well. Never be afraid to pray directly to the gods -- they love and respect the animals as much as they do the humans." The spirit went into the stable, and covered the dying animal gently with his glowing wings. The horses looked away, as was the custom, so as not to interfere with the sacred moment. When they looked back, the ghost of Ullikana's dear friend emerged, ready to follow the guardian spirit to the next world. She looked at Ullikana, who stood modestly aside, her eyes filled with joy. "Thank you, my friend," said the ghost. "We will meet again in the great meadows of the next world, thanks to your kindness and wisdom. You will always be remembered as the savior of all Hawaiian horses." White Buffalo Calf Woman by Micha F. Lindemans -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This Lakota myth tells of two men who were on a hunting trip when they noticed a beautiful young woman walking towards them. She was dressed in white buckskin and carried a bundle on her back. One of the men had bad thought about her, but the moment he approached her, he was suddenly surrounded by a white mist. When the mist dispersed, nothing of the man remained but a skeleton. The woman turned to the other man and she told him to go home and prepare a big lodge for her. The man ran home and did exactly what she had told him to do. When the woman walked into his village, he had already completed his task. She then told the people of the village that she came from Heaven and was here on earth to teach them how to live and what their future would be. She gave the people maize, taught them the use of the pipe, and taught them the seven sacred ceremonies. Furthermore, she gave them colors for the four winds or directions. When she was finished she turned into a white buffalo calf, then turned the color black, then red, then last she turned yellow, representing the colors of the four directions. Then she disappeared. Poems & Short Stories: Softly encircled in her countryside cloak of golden blossoms, the spirit of wild flowers quietly blows a gentle breeze into the air, encouraging the dandelion wisps to carry their seeds across the land. Each delicate breath into a tiny fairy, carrying hopes and dreams of tomorrow off to faraway places. The transformation of each feathery dandelion seed into a dream fairy brings into a new generation that is “borne” on the wind to continue life’s cycle just as it has always been and will be for all time. As the graceful mermaid sleeps in the watery depths of her ocean grotto, she is enveloped in a sea of dreams. In them she sees the shimmering towers of the mythical city of Atlantis, guarded by the powerful king Neptune as he brandishes his Trident to warn off the unwelcome visitors. But the gentle mermaid knows in her heart that she is welcome in this magical kingdom where she is free to frolic with the playful dolphins and wave at the shell chariots drawn past her by horses of the sea. Horizons Several worlds meet in the union of the earth, sea, and sky. The child is filled with wonder about the world below while stars beckon to her from the vast world of dreams over her head. Poems: _____________________________ Damelus' Song to Diaphenia Henry Constable Diaphenia, like the daffadowndilly, White as the sun, fair as the lily, Heigh ho, how I do love thee! I do love thee as my lambs Are beloved of their dams How blest were I if thou wouldst prove me! Diaphenia, like the spreading roses, That in thy sweets all sweets incloses, Fair sweet, how I do love thee! I do love thee as each flower Loves the sun's life-giving power, For, dead, thy breath to life might move me. Diaphenia, like to all things blessed, When all thy praises are expressed, Dear joy, how I do love thee! As the birds do love the spring, Or the bees their careful king, Then in requite, sweet virgin, love me!