The next morning she said, “Yesterday you had it easy. I’ll have to think up a more difficult task. Today you have to cut down the entire forest, cut the wood into planks, pile the planks in cords, and everything must be done by nightfall.” She gave him an ax, a mallet, and two wedges. But the ax was made of lead, and the mallet and wedges of tin. As soon as he swung the ax, it twisted out of shape, and the mallet and wedges folded in two.
He did not know what to do, but at midday the girl came again to bring him food and comforted him. “Lay your head on my lap and sleep,” she said. “When you wake up the task will accomplished.”
She turned the wishing ring, and then and there the entire forest collapsed with a crash, and the wood split into planks and stacked itself into cords. It was as if an invisible giant had done the job.
When he woke up, the girl said, “You see, the wood is all split and stacked; just one limb is left over. When the old woman comes by this evening and asks about that limb, pick it up, strike her with it, and say, ‘That’s for you, old witch.’ ”
The old woman came. “You see,” she said, “how easy it was, but why is that leftover limb lying about?”
“For you, old witch,” he replied, and struck her with it.
But she pretended not to feel the blow, sneered, and said, “Tomorrow you will lay all that wood in a big pile and set it afire.”
At daybreak he got up and started dragging the wood, but how can one man drag an entire forest? The work did not progress. But the girl did not leave him in the lurch. At midday she brought him his meal, and once he’d eaten, he lay his head in her lap and fell asleep. When he woke up, raging flames rose from the entire pile, the tongues of which reached the sky.
“Listen well,” said the girl. “When the witch comes, she will assign you all kinds of tasks – do everything she asks without showing any fear, and she won’t be able to do you any harm, but if she sees that you’re frightened, the flames will lap you up and burn you to a crisp. Finally, once you’ve done everything she’s asked, then grab her with your two hands and fling her into the glowing embers.”
The girl went away and the old woman came skulking by. “Brrr! I’m freezing,” she said. “Here is a fire to warm my old bones, now that feels good. But there’s a block of wood that doesn’t want to burn, go fetch it for me. If you do that last thing for me, you’re free to go wherever you wish. So hop to it.”
The drummer didn’t hesitate for long and leapt into the flames, but they did him no harm, and not a hair on his head was singed. He hauled out the block and lay it on the ground. But no sooner did the wood touch the earth than it transformed itself, and the beautiful girl who had helped him out of his tough fixes was standing there before him – and by the silken, gold-embroidered clothes she wore he recognized that she was indeed the princess. But the old woman gave a nasty cackle and said, “You think you’ve got her, but you haven’t got her yet.” At that very moment she reached for the girl to drag her off, but he grabbed the old woman with both his hands, lifted her in the air, and swung her into the tongues of fire that lapped her up as though well-pleased to consume a witch.
Whereupon the princess looked at the drummer, and when she saw that he was a handsome youth, and considered that he had risked his life to save her, she reached out her hand to him and said, “You risked everything for me, but I will also do everything for you. If you promise to be true, then you will be my husband. We’ve riches enough, there’s plenty of booty here that the witch amassed.” She led him into the house, and there stood chests and chests full of treasure. They left the gold and silver and only took the diamonds. They did not want to stay any longer on Glass Mountain. Then he said to her, “Sit yourself beside me on this saddle, and we’ll fly off like a bird.”
“I don’t like that old saddle,” she said. “All I have to do is turn my wishing ring and we’ll be home.”
“Very well then,” replied the drummer, “then wish us in front of the city gate.”
In an instant they were there. The drummer said, “I want to go to my parents to let them know I’m okay. Wait for me here in the field, I’ll be back soon.”
“Oh,” said the princess, “I beg you, be careful, don’t kiss your parents on the right cheek when you see them, or else you’ll forget everything, and I’ll be left all alone, abandoned out here in the field.”
“How could I forget you?” he said, and squeezed her hand, promising to be back very soon.
But when he entered his father’s house, nobody knew who he was, so much had he changed, for the three days he spent on Glass Mountain were, in fact, three long years. Then he said who he was, and his parents wept for joy, wrapping their arms around his neck, and he was so moved in his heart that, forgetting the girl’s words of warning, he kissed them on both cheeks. But as soon as he kissed them on the right cheek, he completely forgot the princess. He emptied his pockets and lay handfuls of the biggest diamonds on the table. His parents had no idea what to do with all those riches. The father built a splendid castle ringed by gardens, forests, and fields, as though a lord lived within. And when he was done, the mother said, “I have a girl for you. In three days’ time the wedding will take place.” The son acceded gladly to his parents’ wishes.
The poor princess stood outside the gates of the city, waiting a long time for the youth’s return. As darkness fell she said to herself, “He must surely have kissed his parents on the right cheek and forgotten me.” Her heart was heavy with sadness, and she resolved to retreat to a lonesome cottage in the woods and never return to her father’s court. Every evening she entered the city and walked past the drummer’s house. He sometimes caught sight of her but did not recognize her. Then one day she heard people say, “Tomorrow he will be married.”
Whereupon she said to herself, “Let me try to win back his heart.”
Come the first day of the wedding celebration, she turned her ring and said, “Make me a dress as dazzling as the sun.” No sooner were the words spoken than there before her lay a dress as glimmering as if it were woven of nothing but sunrays. When all the guests had gathered, she entered the hall. Everyone wondered at the lovely dress, most of all, the bride, and since she had a passion for beautiful garments, she went over to the stranger and asked if she would sell it to her. “Not for money,” the stranger replied, “but if I may spend the first night outside the door of the bridegroom’s room, I’ll give it to you.”
The bride could not quell her longing and agreed, but she mixed a sleeping potion in with the bridegroom’s nightly glass of wine, which made him fall into a deep sleep. When everything was still, the princess huddled before his bedroom door, opened it a crack, and called out:
“Drummer, drummer, listen up.
Tell me, how could you clean forget
The girl who by your side on Glass Mountain sat?
Did I not trick the witch and save your life?
Did you not swear to make me your wife?
Drummer, drummer, listen up.”
But it was no use, the drummer did not awaken, and come morning the princess had to leave without having gotten through to him.
On the evening of the second day of the wedding celebration, she turned her wishing ring and said, “Make me a dress as silvery as the moon.” When she appeared at the festivities wearing the dress, she once again aroused the bride’s longing and gave her the gown under the stipulation that she yet again be permitted to spend the night outside the bridegroom’s bedroom door. And she called out in the still of the night:
“Drummer, drummer, listen up.
Tell me, how could you clean forget
The girl who by your side on Glass Mountain sat?
Did I not trick the witch and save your life?
Did you not swear to make me your wife?
Drummer, drummer, listen up.”
But drugged by the sleeping potion, the drummer did not wake up. In the morning the princess sadly returned to her lonesome cottage in the woods. But
the people in the house in which the drummer slept had heard the sad song of the strange girl and told the bridegroom about it. They also told him that he could not hear it because the bride had mixed a sleeping potion with his wine.
On the third night of the nuptial celebration the princess turned her wishing ring and said, “Make me a dress that glitters like the stars.” When she appeared so attired at the party the bride was beside herself with longing to possess the dress that outshone all the others and said, “I must absolutely have it.” The girl gave it to her, as she’d given the other two, in exchange for permission to spend the night outside the bridegroom’s door. But this time the bridegroom did not drink his wine, but poured it out behind the bed. And as soon as all was still in the house, he heard a soft voice calling to him:
“Drummer, drummer, listen up.
Tell me, how could you clean forget
The girl who by your side on Glass Mountain sat?
Did I not trick the witch and save your life?
Did you not swear to make me your wife?
Drummer, drummer, listen up.”
All of a sudden he remembered. “Dear God,” he cried, “how could I callously betray her trust? It was the kiss I gave my parents on the right cheek with all the joy of my heart that made me forget.” He leapt up, took the princess by the hand, and led her to his parents’ bed. “This is my true bride,” he said. “If I wed the other, I will do her a great injustice.”
Once they heard the story of everything that had happened, the parents approved. The hall was once again lit up, drummers and trumpeters were fetched for the festivities, friends and family were invited to return, and the true wedding was celebrated in great happiness. The first bride kept the lovely dresses as compensation and declared herself well-pleased.
THE MARVELOUS MINSTREL
There once was a marvelous minstrel who wandered through a forest, feeling so utterly lonesome, trying to distract himself thinking about this and that, and when he’d had it with his thoughts, he said to himself, “Time is dragging on so long in these woods. I think I’ll fiddle forth a pleasant companion.” So he took the fiddle from his back and fiddled a tune that resounded in the treetops. It wasn’t long before a wolf came trotting forth out of the thicket. “Heavens!” said the minstrel. “A wolf I can do without.”
But the wolf came closer and said to him, “My dear minstrel, what an enchanting tune you’re fiddling! I’d like to learn it too.”
“Easy does it,” replied the minstrel. “Just do everything I tell you to do.”
“Oh, minstrel,” said the wolf, “I will obey you like a pupil his master.”
The minstrel bid him to come along, and once they had walked a ways together, they came to an old oak tree whose trunk was hollow and split open down the middle. “See here,” said the minstrel, “if you want to learn to fiddle, put your front paws in that slit.” The wolf obeyed, but the minstrel hastened to pick up a stone, and with one blow wedged his paws in so tightly that the wolf was trapped like a prisoner. “Just wait here until I come back,” said the minstrel and continued on his way.
A little while later he once again said to himself, “Time is dragging on so long in these woods. I think I’ll fiddle forth another companion.” So he took his fiddle from his back, and once again filled the wooded silence with a song. It wasn’t long before a fox came creeping forth through the trees. “Heavens!” said the minstrel. “A fox is not my idea of a friend.”
But the fox came furtively slinking over. “My dear minstrel, what an enchanting tune you’re fiddling! I’d like to learn it too.”
“Easy does it,” said the minstrel. “Just do everything I tell you to do.”
“Oh, minstrel,” said the fox, “I will obey you like a pupil his master.”
“Follow me,” said the minstrel, and once they’d walked for a while they came to a footpath hemmed in on both sides by tall hedges. The minstrel halted, reached out and bent a little hazelnut tree to the ground, and held it down with his feet, then on the other side did the same with another spry sapling, and said, “Very well, little fox, if you want to learn something then stretch out your left front paw.” The fox obeyed, and the minstrel bound his paw to the tree on his left. “Now the right one,” he said, which he proceeded to bind to the tree on his right. And once he’d checked that the knots were tied tightly enough, he let go with his feet, and the trees sprung back, hurling the little fox up in the air so that he dangled and flounced, suspended high above the ground.
“Just wait here till I come back,” said the minstrel, and continued on his way.
And yet again he said to himself, “Time is dragging on so long in these woods. I think I’ll fiddle forth another companion,” and grabbed his fiddle and filled the wooded silence with a song. Whereupon a hare came leaping forth. “Heavens!” said the minstrel. “What am I to do with a hare?”
“My dear minstrel,” said the little hare, “what an enchanting tune you’re fiddling! I’d like to learn it too.”
“Easy does it,” said the minstrel. “Just do everything I tell you to do.”
“Oh, minstrel,” said the hare, “I will obey you like a pupil his master.”
They went on for a while together until they came to a clearing in the woods where stood an aspen tree. The minstrel bound a long twine around the hare’s neck, the other end of which he knotted to the tree. “Lively now, little hare, run twenty times around the tree,” the minstrel commanded, and the hare obeyed, and once it had run twenty times around, the twine twisted twenty times around the tree, and the hare was caught fast, tug and tear as it might, the twine just dug into its soft neck.
“Just wait here till I come back,” said the minstrel and continued on his way.
The wolf, meanwhile, squirmed and tugged and gnawed so long at the stone until it freed its paws and slipped them out of the split in the tree trunk. Huffing and puffing with fury, it ran after the minstrel and wanted to tear him to shreds. When the fox saw it running by, it started to whine and cried out at the top of its lungs, “Brother Wolf, help me please, the minstrel has deceived me.” The wolf tugged down the little tree until the cord snapped in two and freed the fox, who went with the wolf to take revenge on the minstrel. They found the fastened hare, which they likewise released, whereupon they all went in search of their sworn enemy.
Yet again did the minstrel stroke his fiddle along the way, and this time he got lucky. The sweet strains struck the ear of a poor woodcutter, who, no sooner having heard it, whether he wanted to or not, felt compelled to stop working, and with the hatchet under his arm, came walking over, drawn by the music. “Finally I’ve found the right companion,” said the minstrel, “for I wanted to bide my time with a human being, not a wild beast.” And he started playing so splendidly and sweetly that the poor woodcutter just stood there, stunned, his heart bursting with joy. And as he stood like that, the wolf, the fox, and the hare came running up, and he sensed their evil intent. So he raised the flashing hatchet over his head and stood before the minstrel as if to say: Over my dead body. Whereupon the wild beasts took fright and hightailed it back into the woods. The minstrel played the man another tune to thank him and then continued on his way.
THE MUSICIANS OF BREMEN
A man had a donkey that had faithfully lugged heavy sacks of grain to the mill for many years, but the poor beast’s strength had finally given out, so that he was no longer up to the task. The man thought of taking him to the horse skinner, but the donkey got wind of this, ran off, and set out for Bremen, where he thought he might make a go of it as a street musician. After walking for a while he came upon a hunting hound lying by the wayside, panting like someone who had run himself ragged.
“Why are you panting like that, Pooch?” asked the donkey.
“Oh,” said the hound, “because I’m old and getting weaker day by day, and no longer fit for the hunt. My master wanted to do me in, so I took to my heels, but how am I to feed myself?”
“
You know what,” said the donkey, “I’m on my way to Bremen to become a street musician. Why don’t you come along and join my band. I’ll play the lute and you can beat a drum.”
The hound was happy and they continued on their way. After a while they found a cat seated by the wayside that made a face as miserable as sin.
“What’s eating you, old Puss?” asked the donkey.
“You want me to smile when I’m done for?” replied the cat. “Because I’m of an age when my teeth are dull and I’d rather sit curled up by the oven than chase after mice, my mistress wanted to drown me. I escaped in the nick of time, but what am I going to do now?”
“Come along with us to Bremen. You’re good at howling at night, why not become a street musician?”
The cat agreed and came along. Whereupon the three fugitives came upon a farmyard in front of which sat a rooster crowing its lungs out.
“Why the bone-tingling lament?” asked the donkey. “What’s the matter?”
“I have crowed faithfully and prophesied good weather,” said the rooster, “for the day when our blessed Mother in heaven washed the shirt of the Christ Child and hung it out to dry. But because tomorrow is Sunday and guests are coming, the merciless lady of the house told the cook to make a soup of me, and tonight I’m to be beheaded. So I’m crowing my lungs out as long as I still can.”
“Pipe down, you Cock-a-Doodle,” said the donkey. “Better come with us. We’re headed for Bremen, where you’ll surely find a better fate than death. You’ve got a good voice, why not make music with us?”
The rooster agreed, and all four went on their way.
But Bremen was too far to reach in a day, and as darkness fell they came to a forest where they planned to spend the night. The donkey and the hound lay themselves down under a great tree, the cat and the rooster clambered up the branches, but the rooster flew all the way up to the topmost branch, where he felt the safest. Before falling asleep, he took another look around in the direction of all four winds. In the distance, the rooster thought he saw sparks flickering and called down to his comrades that there must be a house nearby, since he could see its glow.