Alphabet Tales
Available with audio versions at my bandcamp site
simricyarrow.bandcamp.com for the audio, as well as the pdf version of this.
You can also get an ebook version from me if you wish.
Examples of the how to draw the letters (so that they make the appropriate shapes) are included at the end, with the exception of Carey’s beautiful pictures for D and J/Q at the start of their stories.
Fuller instructions on using the stories pedagogically are also included at the end.
ALPHABET TALES by Simric Yarrow
CONTENTS
Introduction
The Little Prince and Princess
The Beautiful Butterfly
The Tosha Tree
The Master Magician
The Listening Lizard and the Wise Woman
The Doonah Door
The Holey Hammock
Angel ‘A’
Eagle ‘E’
Ocean ‘O’
Iron ‘I’
Universe ‘U’
The Sandy Snake and the Proud Peacock
The Jittery Jellyfish and the Quiet Queen
Robin Redbreast
Farmer Feather and the Naughty Nymph
The Great Goose, the Kind King and the Velvet Valley
The Yellow Yogi and the Crystal Cave
The Last Alphabet Tale: Zippy Zoomer, Xanadu and Xerxes
Afterword – How Adults Can Use This Book!
Acknowledgements
INTRODUCTION
For the grown-ups:
The world of letters is a mysterious one – or at least I think it should be! When we look at ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs or modern Chinese symbols we see that the letters have stories and images behind them. Our Latin alphabet has lost its connections to the ideas that made the shapes the way they are – and learning it is usually a pretty abstract process. But it doesn’t have to be. What follows is a serious of stories which we might call “fairy tales”, and though I hope they are entertaining for the children who hear them (and even for the adults who share them!) they all tell one possible set of stories of the shapes of our letters. You can share each of them just as they are, perhaps over a bedtime or two, either by reading yourself or with my audio versions. If your child can’t listen to too much at once, tell the story in three or even four sessions, and you’ll find you can gradually build up their stamina for stories without pictures until you can tell a whole story in one or two parts. And, if you have a look at the notes at the back of the book, you’ll see you can use the stories to make learning the alphabet as imaginative as the Egyptians’ must have found it! I have found that even children who have learnt the letters already, still enjoy the stories – they can give them a new appreciation of where all those straight lines and curves come from that make up our alphabet.
The audio versions can be very helpful in today’s busy world – but they can also be a guide for adults; learning stories ourselves and bringing them to life is a wonderful challenge to take on and is much appreciated by the children! If you break off the stories midway (either in audio versions, or when you read or “tell” the text yourself) it’s good to get your children to remember what happened before going on to the next part. They will have taken the story into their subconscious imaginative world, and allowing them to ‘re-tell’ what’s happened helps them to take hold of the events in the story and use the story as a real ‘hero’s journey’. Of course, you can remind them a little during this process! Remembering the story together is thus a useful tool, even if they’ve listened to the whole thing at once.
After each written story is a phrase or two using the letter – and the afterword gives suggestions for using these!
For the children:
There was once a land where elves, dwarves, ogres, witches, magicians, and children played and lived with many other beings. These are the stories of that land. They are also the stories of how the big capital letters came to be the shape they are, and perhaps if you know some of them already you will be surprised to find who gave them their shapes! There are adventures in store for you, but also for the two children who lead the way in, for the first story is about a little prince and a princess, and not about letters at all... (or is it?) I hope you enjoy the journey to this land, and perhaps you can think of a name for it – and even write it down - when the journey has come to an end!
Simric Yarrow
Cape Town, December 2012
THE LITTLE PRINCE AND PRINCESS
A long time ago, just the other day, up in the Majestic Mountains stood a great, glittering, glorious palace. It had beautifully straight marble walls and floors, gleaming golden turrets, and many courtyards and rooms which the young prince who lived there would spend his days playing in. He had grown up inside the walls of the palace with his family, and it was all he knew. But sometimes he would look through the windows or peep his head over the turrets, and he would see the swirling mists of the world beyond, and he would wonder what happened out there. He could see the jagged slopes of the mountains, stretching sharply down to the land below, but soon the mists would run playfully around his head and he would remember the game he had been playing.
One morning the prince found himself in a corner of the palace that he hadn’t visited for some time. He’d run up some stairs to get there, and while he was catching his breath he heard a strange singing:
“Little prince, little prince, today’s a bright new day
Little prince, little prince, through here lies your way.”
It was a beautiful bird, all the colours of the rainbow, which looked at him with shiny, sparkly eyes. But before the prince could blink, the bird had flapped its wings and flown through an open window. Next to the window was a small wooden door which the prince had never noticed before. Inquisitively, he stepped up to it and eased it open. The door led outside!
The marble-palace prince stood at the top of a hill covered in grasses and heather, but there was no sign of the bird. He breathed the fresh air deep into his lungs.
Just at that moment a cheeky wind decided to play a trick on the marble-palace prince. It came and blew at him from behind so hard that the marble-palace prince swayed on the hilltop and lost his footing, most unprincelike. He tripped and tumbled and eventually found himself rolled into a little ball, as he went faster and faster down the mountain side. He thought to himself, “Oh no! I wanted to see the world, but now I’m seeing too many things too fast!” At that moment he wanted nothing more than to stop. Well, it wasn’t long before he did stop, and mercifully the thing that did stop him was soft. It was also rather sticky: the marble-palace prince had become a muddy-puddle prince. Mud from a deep pool had covered his royal clothes, and his royal face. He wiped the mud from his royal eyes, blinked in the sunshine of the day, and was astonished to see in front of him a girl his age, who looked just as muddy as he did.
Now you’d better know how the girl had come to be there. She had grown up on an island, a small island where her parents were the king and queen. Now and then she would look out from the island to the calm green and blue waters of the ocean, and would wonder what lay beyond the waves, but mostly she was too busy running around the golden sandy beaches, climbing up the great, old trees with their curled trunks and branches, drawing pictures in the sand or listening to the sounds of sea shells. That very morning she’d picked up a sweet little shell of a type she’d never seen before, and when she put it to her ear she heard a strange sound:
“Little princess, little princess, today’s a bright new day
Little princess, little princess, over here lies your way.”
She turned around to see a beautiful, rainbow-coloured fish poking its head out of the waves. To reach it she hopped and skipped over some rocks and then onto a big knobbly grey rock she hadn’t seen before. But before she could get close to the fish it had disappeared under the water, and at that moment the rock snorted and squirted out two jets of water which so surprised the sandy-island princess that she fell flat on her back. For the rock turned out to be a whale which had just woken up!
The whale-who-had-been-a-rock began to swim, faster and faster through the waves, and if the sandy-island princess been able to look she would have seen the shore of a vast country approaching, but as it was she was far too busy clinging on to the whale-who-had-been-a-rock and hoping it would stop soon. Well, stop it soon did, and with a lazy flick of its tail the sandy-island princess found herself flying high into the air. She landed not with a bump but with a sploosh, and was astonished to see opposite her a very muddy looking young boy.
“Oh! Hello, er, yes,” called a third voice. It belonged to a strangely dressed man who towered over them. His shoes had little curls at each end, he had on bright red, baggy silk trousers with a gilt lining, and above the twisted moustache and pointed beard on his face, he wore a great purple turban on his head, which spiralled in to a white feather at its centre, and was decorated with silver stars. But most extraordinary of all was his chest, which was covered in an old, frayed string vest, with some holes big enough to fit a tennis ball through. He coughed in an embarrassed way.
“Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Master Magician. I, er, had not quite finished dressing when a wild pig ran through my kitchen and ate my last apples. I chased it out here but it was too fast for me. Instead,” he chuckled, looking at the children’s muddy faces, “I seem to have found a pair of identical twins! Come, I have clothes for you in my house, let’s get you cleaned up and changed and I’ll tell you my story.”
Pretty soon the muddy-puddle princess was in the magician’s kitchen, wearing a red top, orange trousers and a purple cape. The muddy-puddle prince was there too, wearing a green top, yellow trousers and a blue cape. The Master Magician said to them, now that they looked vaguely respectable, “Welcome, dear children.”
It was no ordinary kitchen: all around were bottles with strange coloured liquids, the gentle sound of fizzing and bubbling, and open books showing pictures of strange plants and creatures. The muddy-puddle prince and princess felt rather nervous about being there, but also a little bit excited.
The Master Magician began his tale by pointing to a lovely rug hanging on a washing line, with designs of strange wild flowers on, and delicate patterns around the edge. “Only yesterday this carpet of mine got a hole in it. In the middle, which is of course where I usually sit on it. For my carpet has been my chief means of travelling around the world – with this carpet I can fly!” The children looked at each other with wide eyes.
“The problem is, that being an enchanted carpet, I cannot simply fix the hole with a needle and thread, as I would usually do. I can only fix it by chanting a spell upon it. Worse, unless the hole is fixed, my carpet will not fly. Worse still, although I know much magic, this is one spell I do not know. Until you children came along, I really was in despair.” The multi-coloured prince and princess were now listening extra carefully, while the Master Magician waved his hands passionately in the air.
“There is a wise woman in the forests here, called Toombaasa. She trained me in my early days as a magician. Toombaasa is very old now, but she is still a good and powerful lady. It was she that wove the carpet for me, and only she knows the secret formula that will fix it. When she gave me the carpet many moons ago, she told me the formula was so powerful that she couldn’t tell me it directly: she could only entrust it to two children, 6 or 7 years old, to carry it to me. It’s a big task to ask of you, for the forest holds many hidden dangers, but you are my best hope for mending the carpet so I can carry on helping the people of my land as well as I’m able. Will you travel to the wise woman for me?”
The multi-coloured princess spoke first. “I’m sure we will, but we are still both a little surprised to be here. When the carpet is fixed, can you show us our way home?”
The multi-coloured prince continued, “Yes, and perhaps you could also show us more of the world on your carpet. There seems so much to see and do, which we’ve never dreamt of before.”
The Master Magician gave a big, friendly laugh. “Of course, of course. If you help fix my carpet, I will take you to many places. And I can grant you some protection for your journey in the form of two gifts for my old friend. Here, princess, is a most remarkable golden spear. When you throw it through the air it cannot fail to hit its mark, so use it carefully. And for you, dear prince, a most extraordinary golden shield. With this shield you will be able to protect yourselves from anything trying to get through it.” He showed them the pathway that led to the wise woman, and bid them farewell.
The forest was full of life, from tiny little white flowers to glorious big trees covered in blossoms and fat fruits. The little creatures were everywhere, from tiny ants marching together in a line, to busy squirrels darting from tree to tree, to the occasional call of a much bigger animal somewhere – perhaps a monkey or a wild cat. The children were so busy enjoying their journey that they only realised too late that they had strayed from the path, into a part of the forest where the foliage was thick and there was little sunlight. Something big was stirring behind some bushes.
All of a sudden whatever the big thing was let out a big roar and appeared, a creature that was a bit like a bear and a bit like a lion, with sharp teeth and claws that were more than ready to attack the prince. “Look out!” called the multi-coloured princess, and as the multi-coloured prince began to run, she lifted the golden spear and with all her might she threw it through the air. It hit the creature that was a bit like a bear and a bit like a lion right in its bear-lion heart, and it fell to the ground.
What a day they were having! As the multi-coloured prince was thanking his companion for saving his life, the children realised they were standing next to a chattering stream. Up from the stream popped the rainbow-coloured fish, swimming upstream, and it sang to them:
“Royal children, royal children, follow me today
Royal children, royal children, your path lies this way.”
So they followed the stream deeper into the forest. But once more there were such delicate and wonderful things to be seen on all sides that before they knew it they were lost once more. They found themselves in an area of barren rocks, separated by big gaps which they had to jump over to avoid falling into mysterious holes. There was one particularly mysterious hole from which a strange rumbling sound was coming, and from which flames were leaping. The gap over it was very wide, and around the sides were thick thorns that could not be crossed on foot.
The forest-loving prince decided to hold the golden shield over the hole while the forest-loving princess leapt over. As she crossed the forest-loving prince could feel the flames rising up ferociously, but try as they might they couldn’t get through it to attack her. Safely on the other side the forest-loving princess found a long vine and managed to swing back around on it, to collect the prince in a great circle around the hole.
Safe again, they stood at the top of a great cliff looking over part of the forest, with long vines dangling down from it. At that very moment the rainbow-coloured bird appeared, flying down to the forest below. It sang to them:
“Royal children, royal children, follow me today
Royal children, royal children, your path lies this way.”
So they climbed down by slipping and sliding down a big vine. At the bottom of the cliff was a clear path once more, and it led to a galumphingly grey rock, with a cavernous cave cutting into its side. Toombaasa was sitting at the entrance with arms raised, deep in thought. She wore nothing but a necklace made from the bones of sacred animals, and a cloth from the fur of a leopard, a wise forest creature who had been her friend.
As they approached, Toombaasa opened her eyes. “I have been expecting you, dear children. Tell me about your journey.” She had the kind of soft, powerful voice that makes you know you are in a safe place, a place where you really want to be the best you can.
The children began to speak, a little nervously, but the sparkle in her eyes soon helped them feel at ease. When they had finished she nodded quietly, and spoke gently once more.
“Children, though you’ve brought me the golden spear and shield, the real gifts for me are hearing of how your journey has taught you both to be brave, and to care for each other. Truly you have earned the spell that will fix the Master Magician’s carpet. When I have whispered it to you, hold it safe and return to him. He is a wise man, and a magician who can show you much of the magic in the world.”
And what were the words of the spell? Perhaps you will hear it too, if you listen very carefully it may come whispered to you on the wind! The children heard it, and then got themselves ready to return through the forest. They walked on a clear path, protected by angels who the wise woman had spoken with. When they returned the Master Magician was in his grandest outfit, with the rug laid out in front of his house. The children called out the spell together, and in a thunderous flash the hole in the carpet was quickly fixed as good as new. The Master Magician called them aboard, and told them that now their journey was really beginning, including of course a trip home so that they could tell their families all their news.
THE BEAUTIFUL BUTTERFLY
Deep in the heart of the magic forest there lies a grove where the sun shines in, flooding the ground with a beautiful yellow-green light. In its shady parts the mushrooms grow, and in the evening the elves come there to dance their polkas and karibas, stamping their little feet into the dusty ground. But by day the grove is the home to buzzing insects and scampering squirrels, such as the little prince and princess saw on their journey to Toombaasa’s cave. Among these are many different-coloured butterflies, who dart from flower to flower, sucking sweet nectar before dancing to the songs of the birds.
One morning the butterfly queen was sitting on a leaf after a particularly frantic dance, for she was about to give birth to her new children, and creatures from all over the forest came to bless her and ask for butterfly blessings in return. But among them was an old witch who had disguised herself as a grumpy, lumpy toad.
When it came time for the toad’s blessing, it croaked, “You butterflies have far too much fun. My blessing is to teach you about broken hearts. I curse your youngest child, that he may never face the sunlight – if he does he will die. And as for you, great king” – the toad leapt up into the air and swallowed the butterfly king with one grotesque gulp.
There was stunned silence in the grove, but there was also a strange new sound. The queen butterfly found herself crying, which she’d never done before, and one of her tears completely covered the last of her children to be born.
Time passed in the grove. One evening the elves brought many fine jewels and stones with them to shine for them in the heart of their ring, for it was full moon and a time for special celebration. The chief of the forest elves reminded all the elves that the next day they were to start on a long journey to the great Majestic Mountains, as the jewels were to be taken for the High King of the elves to choose one for his wedding ring. They danced and sang, ate delicious elven breads and tiny but juicy fruits, and drank the freshest forest stream water, which sparkled so much it made them laugh. At the end of the evening the elves flew off from the mushroom grove, taking their jewels with them for their journey.
In the early morning one young butterfly awoke from the tree where he had spent the night. He had spent his life at the edge of the grove, for he was the one the witch had cursed, and his colours shone less brightly than the other butterflies. They often called to him to join them in their dances, but he feared to join them in the sunlight in case he melted away and died.
He flitted and fluttered around the outside of the other butterflies today. Instead of dancing with them he flew down to a beautiful pink daisy, lying in the long grass near the elven mushrooms, to drink some of her delicate nectar for breakfast. As he landed on her he noticed something shiny glinting in the grass. At first he was afraid to go closer, in case it was a ray of sunlight; but he soon became a little braver and flew down to look at it. He was astonished to find a smooth, shiny emerald. The elves must have missed it because it was so green, like the grass all around. He was wondering whether to tell somebody, when a green praying mantis crept out from under a mushroom. She spoke in a feathery whisper.
“Little butterfly, that’s a truly beautiful jewel. It would look dazzling in your treasure chest. Shall I help you take it home?”
The little butterfly thought for a moment. “Oh, praying mantis, thank you for your offer, but this stone is not mine. I’m sure it belongs to the elves. I’ll leave it here for them.”
The mantis nodded her head, well pleased. “You have spoken true, little butterfly, but your task is not done. The elves have taken their jewels for their royal wedding in the mountains, and you must return it to them quickly, before the wedding takes place. For on the wedding day one of the forest elves’ jewels will be chosen for setting in the wedding ring, and if the wrong choice is made then a dark shadow will cover the mountains and the forest.”
The little butterfly heard all this, but then said, “But how will I manage to carry the stone? I am a frail little butterfly, and I cannot travel out into the sunlight.”
“Never fear, there is a way,” said the mantis. “A rainstorm is coming, and when the first clouds cover the sun you must dance with the other butterflies. I will say nothing more now, but good luck.” And with that the praying mantis opened her wings and flew away into the trees.
The little butterfly pondered his new task. He’d never joined the other butterflies in the middle of the grove, even on cloudy days: they’d danced so much more than he did that he felt he would look foolish. Still, he called out to one of the dancing butterflies, in a quiet little voice. “I’d like to join you in the dance, if I may.”
A ripple of murmuring passed through all the dancing butterflies, and quickly it turned to giggles. The little butterfly would have blushed if he hadn’t been so pale: he wished he’d never asked. Little did he realise that the laughter was not mocking him – it was joyful, as the other butterflies longed for him to join them in their dancing. As the sky grew cloudy, the little pale butterfly made a few tentative flutters into the circle and began to dance. His feet stumbled all over the place, and he felt terrible, but gradually he felt himself carried along by the dance.
All of a sudden a great gust of wind blew up, heralding the coming storm. All the butterflies were blown across the grove and over the elven ring. A little patch of dust was whipped up from the centre of the ring: it floated over the little butterfly, making him choke, but he carried on dancing with the others.
When the dust had settled he found his wings able to beat harder than before. As the other butterflies began to settle down and think about where to shelter from the storm, the little butterfly found himself swooping down to the glowing emerald. He was surprised to find he could now easily fit it on his little back. The only problem now was that he had no idea where the elves’ mountains were, for he had never left his grove.
“Fly between the yellowwood and the redwood tree, and carry on without distraction.”
The deep, heavy voice came from somewhere behind him; it took the butterfly a while to realise it was the glowing emerald which had spoken. The butterfly quickly bombarded the emerald with questions, but the emerald sat there as if it had never said anything. There was nothing for it but to fly through the trees, and out through the forest. As he left the grove the first drops of rain began to fall: some rolled off the butterfly’s wings, but he kept on flying, determined now to find his way out of the forest.
Thunderclaps began to crack overhead, and it wasn’t long before the rain was pouring down in torrents. Exhausted and breathless, the pale butterfly took shelter under the great canopy of a flame tree; but just as he did so, a ferocious crack was heard all around and the butterfly saw a nearby tree begin to crash towards him – it had been struck by lightning. From out of the tree flew a magnificent bird: a mighty eagle which had been perched in the top of the tree. The little butterfly was swept up in his wake and found himself landing, perched precariously, on the eagle’s back.
The eagle spread its wings and soared up above the tree tops, shouting angrily, “Foolish butterfly!” It flew on angrily, while the butterfly clung on tight, watching the tree tops below him. Soon the eagle had taken the butterfly right out of the forest, and the butterfly saw he was heading for a rocky outcrop. The eagle swooped right under it and as it turned, the butterfly tumbled off him, and to dry rock and safety under the rocks.
By the time the rain stopped the sun was going down. The little butterfly realised he would have to travel through the night to reach high into the mountains before the sun came up. He felt very tired, and he felt rather sad. He was far from home and had no idea where the elves were. He bravely tried not to cry, though, for butterflies were not supposed to cry, he thought.
“Elves know how to cry,” spoke the glowing emerald, suddenly. Well, hearing this, the poor butterfly discovered that he did too. Great salty tears rolled down his cheeks and trickled down into the puddles left by the storm. The puddles were flowing in little streams away from the rocks and down to a running brook. And the butterfly dried his eyes and decided to look further at the water. He fluttered down to the brook, which was chatting away merrily to itself. Then he followed it down to a bigger, rushing sound: a mighty river, which flowed down from the mountains.
A lizard with a bent tail watched him from a rock at the place where the brook joined the river. “Ah, such sweet music,” said the lizard happily. “Can you hear it?”
The butterfly listened carefully, straining with all his attention, but he heard nothing. Then the emerald on his back began to glow still brighter, and as it did so he began to hear the music of the elves, sweetly strumming. The little butterfly felt more hopeful now, although he still did not know how to reach the elves, for they were high up in the mountains while he was near the bottom. And then he remembered the dance he had learnt with the other butterflies in the grove, and as he listened to the elvish music he danced the dance, and although he still felt a bit foolish, the more he danced the higher and faster he seemed to travel up the river, the firmer his wings seemed
to flap, and the more the emerald glowed on his back. Time spent in dancing always passes quickly, and before he knew it, it was nearly midnight – and the butterfly was following the river in through a dark and gaping tunnel in the mountainside, from where he could hear the booming echoes of the elves at play.
Suddenly he heard a great gasp, and the music stopped. A huge gathering of elves was staring at him as he arrived; old ones, young ones, tall and thin ones, short and stumpy ones. And he quickly realised that they were really staring at the emerald, which was lighting up the whole of the underground cavern he had arrived in.
The High King of the elves approached him in all his royal splendour. His voice was treacle-thick and coated in bark, and although the butterfly didn’t understand all his words he felt how pleased the king was with him. “It is past midnight, and with the coming of the new day I must choose a stone for my wedding this morning. Brave little butterfly, you have shown your paleness does not reflect the depth of your valour. There is no doubt that the stone you have brought is the stone we must set in my wedding ring.” The elves cheered, and there were grand songs and dances anew, and much feasting (some eating more than they really should have done, but that is often the case with feasts). And as they came to take the emerald from the butterfly, he found that the glow stayed with him: that his whole body had now become a shimmering emerald green.
The elven princess who was the bride bent down to the brave, beautiful butterfly. “Your people have a new king at last,” she whispered. And she blew a single, pure, royal elvish mountain breath onto the butterfly, who found himself tumbled and swept down through the mountains – as fast as the wind itself but as feather-delicate as the first snows of winter; until he had been blown all the way back to the heart of his forest glade, just as the sun’s first rays were streaking through the trees. There the beautiful butterfly danced in all his emerald green glory, and all the other butterflies joined him, marvelling at him and hailing him as their king.
Buzzing bees, beetles and butterflies, all a-bustling beneath the trees....
THE TOSHA TREE
There was once a fabulous forest on the edge of a crystal lake, with trees of all descriptions growing in it. The sun shone brightly over the forest, and warmed the branches of the trees, giving strength to their leaves and tempting them into bud and bloom. Later the rains came, and quenched the thirst of the trees so that they drank and drank and filled with pleasure and pride. Their roots sucked in the earth’s moisture, paddled with joy in the water, and they grew and grew towards the sky. All except one little tree, who was known as the Tosha Tree. She was so short that even the flowers on the forest floor were taller than her, and she had just two spindly little branches which reached out on either side.
The Tosha Tree had forgotten her previous life. In truth, her mother was the queen of the forest, but she had died when her little princess was still a baby. The crystal lake hid a poisonous witch, who had arrived from the dark mountains when the queen died. The witch was determined to seize her chance to try and take over the forest, but she found that the little princess Tosha was so powerful in spirit that she could not do so. Instead she had cursed the little princess by turning her into the tiny Tosha Tree.
The other trees were tall and strong. In spring they produced a beautiful peachy blossom, and in autumn fat juicy fruits which the birds and animals loved to eat. But the Tosha Tree showed no signs of growing up like the other trees, and the flowers around her often bent down to mock her. “Ha! Why don’t you grow up, little tree. You’re an ugly little thing, and what use are you? We make the place beautiful, but you just take up space.” The Tosha Tree could do nothing but sigh.
Now the Tosha Tree was not the only enchanted person in that cruel land. It so happened that one day a young man came riding in the forest. His name was Dawlish, though everyone called him Dawl, and he had also forgotten who he really was. He stopped for lunch in a shady spot near where the Tosha Tree stood, admiring the many pretty colours of the flowers all around. He had been wandering and was on his way back to his home, or at least the place he thought of as his home. As he sat and rested, the flowers of the forest saw their chance. They began to rustle in the wind and whispered to Dawl, “Take the Tosha Tree with you on your journey home! She may not look much but she is a magical tree. Wherever you plant her the land will bring you much wealth and good fortune.”
Dawl heard this and decided he would act upon it, so he bent down on his hands and knees and began to scoop out the soil around the Tosha Tree until he could pull out her flimsy roots. With no more ado he put her into his bag and set off again on his journey. The flowers chattered merrily to themselves, for now that their lying story had succeeded and the Tosha Tree was gone they could fill the whole forest floor with their pretty colours.
At length Dawl arrived at his home, a run-down cottage on the edge of a village. His master, a fearsome huge and ’orrible ogre who smelt of socks soaked in cheese and looked like a bald bear, came out sternly to greet him. “So, my good-for-nothing servant,” he bellowed, “what have you brought from your wandering? If you had been much longer I would have sent Snarltooth to find you. Winter is coming and we have no food left.”
Petrified at the thought of facing Snarltooth – the ogre’s enchanted leopard – the young man showed the ogre the Tosha Tree. He explained the tale of her magical properties.
The ’orrible ogre was furious. “You spend so long away, and all you can bring us is a useless tree, which can’t even grow for itself!” He slapped Dawl and threw the Tosha Tree out into the yard.
That night the Tosha Tree cried softly to herself. She knew that the flowers had played a cruel trick to get rid of her, and it seemed unlikely that she would ever get to be as strong and tall as she felt she could be. And as she cried, a small tortoise heard her sobs and came to her side.
“Little tree, why are you so sad?”
But the little Tosha Tree could not speak. The tortoise looked carefully at her, then said, “You are small and silent now, but I think if you were to bend your branches a little you would be able to sing.”
The Tosha Tree stopped crying at this, stretched and pulled within herself, to no avail, and then she began to tremble. “Oh tortoise,” she burst forth, “this I cannot do.”
The tortoise laughed at her. “But see, you have found your voice! Perhaps your problems are not as great as you think!” The tortoise lifted the Tosha Tree on his back and took her to a patch of soil that was moist and fertile. “Rest your roots here for the night. When you see the young man in the morning, call to him and ask him to water you with a little broth from the pot. Ask him again the following morning, and again the following day. Then you will begin to grow.”
And so in the morning, when Dawl came out into the yard to milk the ogre’s mangy goats, the Tosha Tree called to him: “Young man, young man, please water me with a little broth from the pot so that I may grow tall and strong.”
Dawl was surprised to hear the Tosha Tree’s voice, and he quickly went inside to get some broth for her, a watery bony brown mush. But later that morning the ’orrible ogre himself came to the yard and noticed the little Tosha Tree, its branches stretched out, perched in juicy soil he wanted to grow beans in.
“Ha! What’s this? The useless tree still here! Well, you do have one use I can think of: firewood.” And with that he broke one of the tree’s branches off and took it inside for the fire. The poor Tosha Tree trembled and wept silent tears, but she remembered what the tortoise had said.
The next morning, as the sun rose, Dawl came into the yard again. Once more the Tosha Tree called out to him: “Young man, young man, please water me with a little broth from the pot so that I may grow tall and strong.”
Dawl looked at her pityingly, with her one branch left. “Oh dear, poor little tree. I can see you want to grow, but you are no bigger than yesterday, and you only have one branch left.” Still, to humour her, he went inside and fetched more watery broth and poured it over her. But later that morning the ’orrible ogre came out again, lazily waking up in the middle of the morning. Crossly he came outside, for although he liked waking up late he did not like the fact that the sun got up before him and shone in his eyes. Seeing the Tosha Tree still standing in his planned bean patch, he came straight over and wrenched off her remaining branch.
The poor Tosha Tree was terrified. She trembled through the day, wondering how she would last until the next morning. That night the tortoise returned to visit her. “Do not fear, little Tosha tree. You will grow tall and strong. You will even grow a special fruit. Tell the young man that he can only take the fruit if he cuts them with a silver axe.”
And so on the third morning Dawl came out to see the Tosha Tree once more, now without any branches at all. Once again she called to him, “Young man, young man, please water me with a little broth from the pot so I can grow tall and strong.”
Dawl laughed and shook his head. “Little Tosha Tree, you have said this every morning, and now there is almost nothing left of you! But I suppose it can’t do any harm.” And he went inside to fetch a cup of broth. He poured it on the Tosha tree, and as he did so she felt a tingling in the stumps of her arms, and an itchy feeling in her roots, and with a sudden burst she felt her branches began to grow again. Dawl had gone off to carry on with his chores, and saw nothing of this.
Later the ’orrible ogre woke up once more in a foul temper. He came into the garden, clutching a handful of bean seeds, but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the Tosha Tree and her branches. Naturally, his first thought was to break off the branches again for the fire. But imagine his surprise when he found he could no longer do so with his mighty bare hands, no matter how hard he pulled and tugged and wrenched and yelled! He raged inside to find an axe, to break these flimsy little branches off. With a great lift and a great sweep he brought the axe crunching down on to her branches, but it was to no avail: every time he struck, the Tosha tree felt another branch beginning to grow, instead of any of them breaking! Furious, the ’orrible ogre attacked her trunk instead, but more and more leaves began to appear all over her as he did so, and the trunk stayed as firm as ever.
Finally, in his frustration the ’orrible ogre called young Dawl, and while presenting him with a great kick in the backside, he roared, “Look what trouble you bring me! This was where I wanted you to grow my beans, but instead you’ve given me a useless tree that drinks up all the water here.” And he sent his servant off to muck out the cattle shed, collect the chicken eggs, and do all the other chores he could think of, which wasn’t actually that many for he was still too shocked to think straight.
But the Tosha Tree continued to grow, and by the middle of the day she had burst into bloom with pretty blue blossom. By the next morning the blue flowers had changed into the strangest fruit the ogre’s servant had ever seen: little bronze coins. “Well, whoever said money doesn’t grow on trees,” he said in amazement. He ran inside to tell the ’orrible ogre the news.
With a glint in his eyes the ’orrible ogre came racing up to the tree, and without a word he began to try and pull the coins off… but he found that in spite of his mighty bare hands, with all his tugging and pulling and wrenching and yelling he could not do so. “So, now we have money we cannot use and still no food. This tree is indeed a curse.” And the ogre spat on the ground in disgust.
But the Tosha Tree felt very proud of herself and the way she looked, with her beautiful blue flowers and the bronze coins that were her fruit. If she could have walked she would have been strutting. “Ah, if the flowers of the forest could see me now,” she thought to herself. She did not want to lose her coins so quickly, so although Dawl tried himself to pull her coins off, she did not mention what the tortoise had said. As the servant sadly went to bed for the night, and the Tosha Tree sat smugly in the garden, a magpie flew out of the bushes. He came right up to her, and pecked every last coin off, one by one, to take to his nest. The Tosha Tree watched him fly off with all the coins and felt a little ashamed of herself.
That night the Tosha Tree’s old friend the tortoise returned to her. He shook his head . “Dear, dear. Now it becomes more tricky. Tomorrow you will grow silver coins, and you must tell the ogre’s servant that he may only cut them off with the ’orrible ogre’s golden axe.”
“Where is the golden axe to be found?” asked the Tosha Tree sorrowfully.
“It is the ’orrible ogre’s most prized possession, and is guarded by Snarltooth the leopard,” said the tortoise. The Tosha Tree gasped.
In the morning it had turned out just as the tortoise had said. The Tosha Tree had indeed grown silver coins in place of the bronze ones. Dawl came through the yard and was amazed to see the Tosha Tree’s brilliance. He spoke to the Tosha Tree: “Oh tree, will you not give me your fruit so that I can make my fortune?”
This morning, the Tosha Tree quickly found her voice. She told the servant the only way he could do this – but in truth, this was because she thought there was no way he would be able to get the golden axe.
Indeed, he was troubled. “Oh, how I wish I could get away from here. This ’orrible ogre has kept me here since I was a small child, and has me always under the eye of Snarltooth. And Snarltooth also watches the golden axe. There is no way I know to get it from him.”
Seeing Dawl’s despair the tree took pity on him. “Dawl, I have stood here many days now and I have felt the rhythms of this place. Snarltooth has to sleep and I will help him to sleep quickly and deeply if you call him here. And I will soon get the ’orrible ogre out of your way as well,” she promised, though she did not really know how.
The servant left, and soon it was the ’orrible ogre who was up and about again. He saw the shining silver coins from his bedroom, and came charging down to grab them, and he tugged and he pulled and he wrenched and he yelled, only to be disappointed as he had been the day before. The coins were stuck fast to the tree. The ’orrible ogre stormed angrily out of the yard and down to the market place in the village. Now some of the people of the village thought that the ’orrible ogre was a menace that should be killed, but most of the people of the village were afraid of the ’orrible ogre, and some even thought they should welcome him for at least they didn’t have too many thieves trying their luck when he was around. But it wasn’t often that he actually set foot in the village, and while many ran for cover, he quickly gathered a crowd with the words that he spoke (for when an ’orrible ogre who smells of socks soaked in cheese and looks like a bald bear starts to speak, it is difficult not to hear). “I have in my garden a most amazing tree,” he bellowed. “A tree which grows shining silver coins as fruit. Anyone can try their luck at getting the coins off the tree, for I cannot. Whoever succeeds may take the tree away with them and enjoy its future fruits, on my word. However, if you fail to take the coins off, you will become supper for my pot.”
Meanwhile, Dawl was in the house alone, and he gently called Snarltooth to come to the garden. “Oh Snarltooth, dear Snarltooth! I have some delicious fresh meat for you, Snarltooth.” The leopard came, suspiciously sniffing, and as he came into the yard the Tosha Tree began to bend her branches in the wind. A strange whistling filled the air, which in no time had lulled Snarltooth to sleep, a sleep for which he was very ready after a whole night of being alert and on guard. Dawl crept away and collected the golden axe, and came back disguised as a beggar, just as the ’orrible ogre returned from the market place.
The ’orrible ogre was followed by a ragged bunch of eager people from the village, who had come to try their luck or to watch the spectacle. “Now,” he roared, “who would like to try first?”
Several strong men came forward. One by one they tried to pull the coins off the tree, and as he saw them all fail, the ogre began to laugh uglier and uglier laughs. “I will not go hungry tonight, I see,” he said menacingly.
At last, a beggar stepped forward, his face hidden in a simple hood, and spoke in a thin and reedy little voice. “I would like to try, if I may.” The crowd laughed at this creaking old weakling’s suggestion. “I have nothing to lose,” he went on.
The ’orrible ogre cursed, and said, “I do not want to waste my time here. You will provide nothing but gristle for the soup tonight. So be quick.”
Dawl – for it was he – turned to face the Tosha Tree. From under his cloak he pulled a sight that made the crowd gasp: a solid gold axe, whose surface gleamed and glittered in the midday sun. Swiftly he swung it at the tree, and a shower of silver coins came cluttering noisily to the ground. The ’orrible ogre yelled with rage, realising he had been tricked as Dawl threw his hood off.
“And now,” said Dawl with a new firmness, “you must set me free.”
“Never!” cried the ’orrible ogre who smelt of socks soaked in cheese and looked like a bald bear, louder than ever, and he lunged at Dawl with his mighty bare fists. But Dawl was ready with the golden axe, and one last time he brought it down – and cut off the ’orrible ogre’s head.
In that moment the ogre’s power was broken, and Dawl’s spell of enchantment broke too. He stood, blinking, confused, in the midst of the crowd. He was remembering who he had been before the ’orrible ogre captured him as a child. He was the lost Prince Dawlish of the city of Tinse-Tonse-Tao. He turned to face the people. “I am your prince, now grown to be a man. Follow me!” And he headed back to the market place, giving out silver coins from the Tosha Tree as he went, helping the poor and the needy along the way.
That night, the Tosha Tree stood lonely in the yard, when along came the tortoise. “Tosha Tree, Dawlish may be a prince, but the truth is that you too are a princess – an enchanted princess of the forest. Because you gave your coins away you will grow new golden ones; and a golden ring. The man who will take that ring will marry you and set you free.” The Tosha Tree hardly dared to believe it and as you can imagine she did not sleep well that night, excited as she was by what the next day might bring.
In the morning Prince Dawlish came to visit the Tosha Tree, and was delighted to see her new purple flowers, her lush green leaves, her golden coins everywhere, and her new height – for she was as tall as him now. “Tosha Tree, will your wonders never cease? Can I help my kingdom now with these gold coins too? Will the golden axe help me get them?”
The Tosha Tree spoke softly. “Prince Dawlish, you can only get these coins if you agree to marry me, in which case you can take this golden ring.”
The prince stood for a moment, shocked at the idea of marrying a tree. But, he had to agree, she had been an extraordinary tree so far. And so, with the soft words of the Tree ringing in his ears, he agreed. He took the ring from the Tosha Tree’s branch, and in an instant she was transformed into a bright green princess – Princess Tosha of the forest. The prince was stunned, and spoke gently, as a prince should: “Truly, dear lady, you are worth much more than gold.”
Princess Tosha spoke to the prince, “You are now ruler of your land, but I must return swiftly to the forest where you found me. For I fear something terrible has happened there.”
Her fears were correct. Since the Tosha Tree had left the forest, the witch of the dark mountains had been able to take over at last. As the couple hurried to the forest, they found the crystal lake surrounding it had turned a filthy black colour. The trees were limp and starved, dry as bones. But, knowing her destiny at last, Princess Tosha walked fearlessly into the forest and began to sing, reaching her arms out to the trees as she did so.
“Trees of the forest, your princess is come,
Lifting the curse that the witch did lay;
Rain will fall with the rays of the sun
Here in the greenery all shall play.”
And as she sang the wind began to blow through the trees, and rain began to fall, and the rain turned the blackened lake crystal clear again. The witch stood firmly and furiously in the forest, but the wind soon blew so strongly that she felt the swirls and swirls lifting her up, up in the air, and blew her back to the dark mountains from which she had come, never to return.
Prince Dawlish ruled wisely over the people of Tinse-Tonse-Tao and the lands around, and Princess Tosha ruled with joy in the forest, and while he often had to give commands in the city and the villages it was to the forest that he always returned: and the people of the land came and walked in the forest too and found peace there.
Torn out by a terrible trick, but the tortoise will teach her to find her true way.
THE LISTENING LIZARD AND THE WISE WOMAN
There was once a lizard whose best friend was a leopard. Together they loved to lie in the sun, out on the hot rocks of the mountains, climbing up high to look down at the land below. They also loved to chase each other over the rocks, hiding, shouting, and they always seemed to be busy. It could be exhausting to watch them! Sometimes they would race across the desert, at other times the leopard took the lizard into the forest, and the lizard was happy because his friend was always close by.
One day the lizard woke up as usual. He called out for the leopard, but there was no reply. How strange! He called again, louder; and louder still. Not a sound did he hear. Once again he called for him, and now he was a little worried. He scampered down from the rocks towards the beach below the mountains. There was no sign of the leopard, but there was somebody there, in the distance. Feeling a little frantic by now, the lizard raced towards the figure. As he came close he could see it was a woman, kneeling down outside a cottage with her arms in the air. She had her eyes closed because she was busy praying, but the lizard didn’t really notice that. He came closer and called out to her: “Have you seen my friend the leopard?”
The woman said nothing, but carried on praying. The lizard noticed that she was wearing a leopard skin. He got suspicious. “Why are you wearing that leopard skin? Where’s my friend.” Since she still did not respond, he decided she was very rude, and had perhaps done something horrible to his friend, and he came scuttling up to her and nipped her leg. Then he scurried off nervously.
“Wait!” boomed a voice, firm and powerful. It was the woman, whose name was Toombaasa, and she was very wise. The lizard felt a little bit scared, and tried to run further away, but as he did so he found to his surprise he was actually getting closer and closer to her.
“Little lizard, you haven’t learned to look or listen. This leopard skin is not your friend. The spots are different. It belonged to a good friend of mine, a leopard called Snarltooth who gave it to me when he died, which he did years ago. He had been enchanted by a powerful ogre when he was young and did not listen to warnings. Only when he was released from the ogre’s spell could he lead a strong, free life. And if you had been able to be still and listen carefully you would have heard the angels I was speaking to, and you would not have tried to interrupt me. But to hear the angels you need lots of practice in listening well.”
The lizard laughed. “Angels! Of course I’ve heard the angels. I’ve heard them lots of times.”
The Wise Woman replied, “The older you get, the more they can tell you, but the more you have to practice listening to hear what they’re really saying. If you don’t, you may find you can’t even hear the elves or the fairies when they speak to you, one day.”
The lizard was getting more curious about what she said. “Alright then, what are the angels saying now?” he asked.
“Don’t put your tail in the Rushing River.”
The lizard laughed at this, and hurried off without waiting to hear anything else.
Some time later the lizard smelt something familiar. He sniffed the ground and realised it was the scent of his friend the leopard. He followed down into a valley he had never visited before, which had a river running through the middle of it. That meant one thing to the lizard: lots of yummy flies and mosquitoes to eat. He rushed straight down towards it, as he was feeling very hungry, and as he jumped into the river he was able to catch one mosquito after another. He was so busy feasting that he did not notice that the strong current had tugged at his tail and bent its bones round to the side. When he came out of the river he noticed what had happened, and the poor lizard chased his tail round and round to try to push it back into shape. It was all to no avail, and the lizard felt embarrassed that he would look silly and the other lizards might laugh at him.
It was only at this point that he remembered the words of the Wise Woman, passed on from the angels. He climbed up out of the valley again, still following the scent of the leopard, and he tried to listen himself to hear the angels. This gave him something of a shock: instead of angels, he heard a deep rumbling sound. The more he listened, the more it sounded like something was snoring, which was getting louder and louder. In an instant the ground he was standing on began to move, and he realised that the rocks around him were in fact a mighty mountain spirit waking up. It yawned to reveal a gigantic cave of a mouth, and the little lizard was sucked inside.
Now the lizard was very worried. It was dark all around, and he could see no way of getting out. He scurried here and there in a panic. He called out, but just heard back his own echo, which was very confusing, and made the snoring and grumbling noise seem louder. He tried pushing at the rocks, and finally to shout, but there was no response. The little lizard seemed to be trapped and alone.
All of a sudden there was a great scampering and shouting, as a pack of rats ran past. He called out to them, “Please be quiet! I’m trying to listen for a way out of here!”
But the rats called back to him, menacingly, “You started it! Why should we be quiet now?” And they began to close in on him.
The lizard saw hunger in their eyes and realised they could be after a tasty meal. He said quickly, “Wait! I can find the way out of here for all of us!” The rats reluctantly realised that they needed a way out as much as the lizard did. He listened carefully, and gradually the rats joined him. He could hear the wind whistling through the stones. He crept to follow it, and as he did so the wind got louder and closer, and the lizard got more and more certain that he would find a way out. Finally, he heard another sound – the jingling of bones – as he burst out through one of the nostrils of the sleeping mountain spirit.
The rats followed behind him, and their leader snarled. “Thank you kindly, and now there is nothing to stop us eating you.” But as they came closer, the Wise Woman, jingling her bone necklace, swept past and helped him up to a place of safety.
“It seems you’ve found your ears,” she smiled.
The lizard was still impatient. “But where’s my friend?” he asked.
“Be still,” said the Wise Woman. “You will be set a task.”
The little lizard looked around and found they had landed on the very pinnacle of a mountain. As he turned back he found the Wise Woman had vanished, and all he could see was his own bent tail. He tried again to sniff the air for the leopard’s scent. He thought about scurrying down into the valley again, but he remembered the Wise Woman’s words this time. He waited.
Two crows went past. They cawed at each other. “Is that lizard just lying there? Or is he listening for something?”
“Who knows? We’d better get going though. The Wise Woman warned us that a great wave would wash right up to the mountain tops soon.”
The lizard heard all of this in shock and surprise. Waves? On the very top of a mountain? He felt desperate to know what his task was, or if not, then to run down into the green land below from this rocky spot, so that he could smell the scents of the valley and lie in the sun. Then he felt the rays of the sun tickling his body, and as he listened carefully – more carefully than he had listened before – he heard a strange murmuring.
“The silver bell will wake the mountain spirit to stop the waves. All will be well with the silver bell.”
The lizard realised that these voices came from the angels of the sun, which he had never heard before. He felt a little proud of himself for listening so well, and he called out to the Wise Woman. “How can I find the silver bell? Please appear and tell me, O Wise Woman.”
She appeared on another pinnacle of the mountain. “If you listen for three days and nights, without speaking or distraction, you will be able to hear so well that you will hear the sound of the silver bell. Otherwise, its sound is so pure, so beautiful, and so faint that you will never hear it.”
The lizard gasped at such a task, but he felt determined to tackle it. He waited and waited, listening very carefully, and night fell. In the night he smelt, for the first time in days, the scent of his friend the leopard, but he knew now that he had to keep still if he was to hear the silver bell. He made it through to the morning, and the whole of the next hot day too he held himself together. As the second night arrived, he could smell the leopard’s scent even closer. He felt joy in his heart, and then, far in the distance, he could see his friend. The leopard seemed to be looking at him, and he was puzzled as to why he didn’t come closer. But he kept his ears open and his body still the whole night through.
On the third night the lizard smelt his friend again. He looked eagerly, and saw that the leopard was coming closer and closer. He sat on a rock close to the lizard, and seemed to be waiting for the lizard to say something. The lizard knew he had pledged to be silent for three days and nights, but he was so full of joy at seeing his friend again after all this time that he just couldn’t stop himself. “Dear leopard! We are re-united at last!”
At that moment, the leopard transformed into a cackling tokoloshe1. “Hurrah! You will never hear the silver bell now, and the wave will destroy the land!” And the imp leapt and scampered away over the rocks towards where the ocean was waiting.
The poor lizard heard a rumbling rising up, deep and low, from the waves far below. Night was coming to an end. He thought desperately about what to do next; and he called out to the sun angels as the first rays came up. “Dear sun angels, can you hear the silver bell?”
The whispering and murmuring came down the sunbeams. “No, we can’t hear it, but perhaps the angels of the wind can hear it.”
So the lizard asked the wind angels, as the morning breeze whirled around him. “Dear wind angels, can you hear the silver bell?”
Still more faintly than the sun angels spoke the angels of the wind. “We can hear the silver bell, but it is such a faint sound that we cannot tell where it is. But we will blow your question to the river angels.”
So the lizard asked again, “Dear river angels, can you hear the silver bell?”, and his question was blown down until he heard back the faintest bubbling of the angels of the river.
“We can hear the silver bell’s ringing, rippling through our waters. But it is far, far off. Perhaps, if we tickle the angels of the rocks, they will feel like answering you.
So the lizard asked, while the river angels tickled: “Dear rock angels, can you hear the silver bell?”
And a low murmur, which the lizard strained to hear, came back to him. “We stay so still that we hear everything. The silver bell is ringing far over the western shores. To hear it you must travel many leagues to the west.”
The rumbling in the ocean was getting louder, and the lizard felt desperate. How on earth was he to get to the silver bell in time? Then, louder than anything he had heard for a long time, he heard a familiar voice. It was the leopard, calling his name, and leaping swiftly up the rocks, grinning a great cat grin. “My good friend! I must tell you where I have been. The Wise Woman, who is well known to the leopard people, came to me one night with a special task. I had to leave you swiftly, for the time was ripe; I had to learn how to leap great distances. And now I have heard tell that you need to get somewhere fast, and I understand why I had to leave and learn so quickly. Leap on my back, and tell me where we are going!”
The lizard did indeed leap onto the leopard’s back, and he told him to leap west. As the leopard leapt, so the lizard listened, and they made rapid progress together until they reached the edge of a beautiful forest grove. It was guarded by elves, and as they reached them the breathless the lizard sputtered out, “The Wise Woman has sent us here. We wish to borrow the silver bell to stop the tokoloshes from their evil plan to destroy the mountains.”
The elves nodded without speaking, and led them on softly padding feet into the heart of the grove, where the tiny bell was hanging from a trellis by a fountain, and softly ringing. The two friends looked at it in awe for a moment, then gathered it carefully and turned around to leap back with it, thanking the elves who quietly smiled in return.
Terrible things were afoot in the ocean. A great army of tokoloshes was surfing towards the shoreline, riding an enormous wave, led by their king who wore an iron crown, carried a poisoned spear, and had a wicked smile. The king was leading his army in a magical hum, a sound that had created the wave from the depths of the ocean. Just then, the lizard and leopard arrived on the beach with the bell, and the lizard rang the bell with all his might. Above him there was a crunching and a cracking in the mountains, and the mighty spirit of the mountains began to wake up with the new ringing sound. As the spirit stirred and shards of rock began to rain down around the watchers below, the spirit began to hum a low hum to go with the sound of the bell. It was so low that few people could hear it except for the lizard. As the wave swept triumphantly to the shore, the smiles on the tokoloshes changed to panic and fright, for the almighty wave began to subside into a pool of nothingness in the face of the spirit’s hum; and the leopard and lizard watched in amazement, as the tokoloshes were sunk in a whirl of white water. None of them appeared on the surface again.
The lizard and leopard came cautiously down to the water’s edge, where they found the Wise Woman, fearlessly praying outside her cottage. “Well done, my dear creatures. You have done your tasks well, and learned new gifts along the way. Leopard, you have learned to control your movements, to move powerfully and well. Lizard, you have learned to wait, you have realised the power in being still and the magic that can come to you if you are. You will always be known now as the Listening Lizard; many are the things which you shall hear, which others who are in a rush will miss.” And with that, the Wise Woman left them, purposely walking towards the forest.
Lizard and leopard loved to lie, lazily looking at the lush land.
Wise and watching the wailing waves, she will wake them to wondrous new ways.
THE MASTER MAGICIAN
Long ago, a boy was born to a family of giants. The giants lived in a dark cave in the mountains, and they thought nothing of clutching up a goat or a sheep from the mountainside and eating it whole. Sometimes they would wrestle with each other, hurling great boulders in their anger. Many were the times they shook tree trunks for sport, shaking out in terror all the creatures that lived there. Other times they would race each other so hard that behind them lay a path of destruction, all plants and animals squashed underfoot. The boy giant grew up doing all these things with his cousins and friends. But something about him seemed different to the other young giants, though they never bothered to stop long enough to figure out what. Unknown to his family, the fairy queen of the mountains had watched his birth, and she had blessed him with a special boon: a heart which beat and fluttered like a bird. All the other giants had hearts that were carved out of rock.
As the boy giant grew up he noticed that, while he joined in with the giants’ rough games, he often felt sad afterwards, seeing how the land was crying around them, how bruised were the trees, how terrified were the creatures. He began to wonder if there was another way to be a giant. He started to head out into the hills for long walks by himself, but when he realised that the creatures he was walking past were hiding from him in fear, he felt even sadder.
One day he stopped by a lake, and bent down to drink from it. As he saw his reflection in the lake, he caught a glimpse behind him of what seemed to be a mat, covered in the most exquisite patterns. He turned swiftly around, but there was nothing behind him. Yet there it was, still reflected in the lake. The giant waved his hand into the water. The lake seemed calm, cool, and for a giant it was shallow. He decided to step in and see if the patterns were something under the water.
As he stepped in he felt something grabbing his legs. All he could see was water-weeds, but they quickly wrapped themselves around him and bound him tight. He felt a tugging, which was not something the giant was used to: usually nothing was strong enough to pull him. At last he felt his legs give way, and with an almighty crash the young giant tumbled backwards into the water. Curious fish started to come up and nuzzle him, and he found himself floating peacefully through the ripples he had caused.
In the middle of the lake the giant could see an island, lush with mighty green trees and a small log cabin. As he came closer he could see a tiny, bent old man sitting by the shore, with a white beard that stretched almost to the water.
The old man sang:
“Water creepers come to me
Bring me something for my tea
I’ll cook it slice it make it tasty
Hullapooladankie.”
As the giant was washed up on the shore, the little man scratched his head and croaked. “What a strange fish I’ve caught today! I’ll never be able to eat all this.”
“Please, sir, don’t eat me at all!” called the giant, now very worried.
“Oh! The fish talks! Curiouser and curiouser! I shall have to call the council to decide what to do with this creature.” The old man clucked to himself, then went into the hut and brought out a huge curved horn, covered in gold and strange symbols. He blew into it and a low moan echoed out across the lake.
After a short while bubbles appeared on the lake, and then one after the other heads rose up, heads of water-nixies with hair made of flowing waterweeds. One wore a crown of lilies, and it was she that spoke, in sounds like a playful mountain stream. “Keeper of the lake, you have summoned us. We see you have captured a giant. Often times we hear the footsteps of these giants thundering about the land, and the terrible sounds of pain as they leave destruction behind them. But we of the water are lucky, for the giants seem not to notice what lies in the water and have never been known to come into the lake. It would be best to ask this one how he came to be here.”
“You speak wisely, Queen Nixie,” bowed the old keeper of the lake with a skip.
At this the giant burst out, “I saw a beautiful mat in the water. Perhaps it was a reflection, but it drew me in.”
At this, the nixies gasped.
“That mat should not be seen by one of your kind,” said the queen. “It is a sign that comes to one who is destined to become a master magician. But that path is only for human beings: whoever heard of a clumsy giant becoming a magician?”
The keeper spoke again, curling his beard with his twiggy fingers. “Perhaps there is a way. If this giant makes the journey to the great city of Tinse-Tonse-Tao he may learn to place his steps carefully. The path through the eastern valley is clear, but the way holds many dangers for those who cannot stick to it. I shall call the messengers of the mountains and send them ahead to ensure he receives a warm welcome in the city.” He added, with a strange twinkle in his eye, “I also grant him two boons: a silver sword, and a needle and thread.”
The giant, who had been listening to all this with a tingling excitement, readily agreed to the journey: so he was unbound, and the water-nixies worked together to guide him across to the eastern shore. They bid him good luck and farewell, and the giant began to tread on the path into the valley beyond.
For a man the path would have been wide, but for the giant it was narrow and pulled him between trees that he would rather have waded through and knocked over; between boulders he would rather have stood on; and it wound its way in zig-zags up hills he would rather have stepped over. So soon the giant found he felt too tired to keep strictly to the path. His great left foot came crashing off to the side, as it had done so often. But as it came to land he felt a stabbing pain in his foot. He looked down but could see nothing, but gradually a buzzing noise reached his ears, and a swarm of bees flew into view.
“We were on each side of you, but you have killed our brother!” they shouted angrily. “Look who is around you, great creature! This is a declaration of war!”
The giant spoke back gently. “I have been foolish but I don’t wish to fight. Let me first see if I can heal your brother.” He bent down to the ground, where the bee he had stood on lay in agony. It seemed that, for the first time, the giant felt his heart fluttering inside his chest. He breathed a gentle wind over the bee, and the bee lay motionless for a moment. Then it began, ever so slowly, to beat its wings again. And gradually it began to buzz again, more and more joyfully, and tentatively the little bee rose up into the air. The bees flew to speak with the giant again, this time in sweeter tones.
“You are learning, great creature. We thank you for healing our brother. We cannot heal the sting he gave you, but we offer you honey for your journey.” The giant took the honeycomb with thanks and carried on walking, in some swollen pain, and looking carefully at the path once more - while realising that what he had just done to heal the bee was magic. He felt his heart beating a little faster.
He carried on the path, through trees, over rocks, and began to hear the sounds of the birds around him, singing their sweet music. Imagine this: he’d never heard them before, as when he played with his friends their loud noise drowned out the bird song. He also felt his sore, swollen foot, which was a surprise to him, for the pain seemed nearer than he expected it. In the distance he could vaguely see flickering lights. Night had fallen and the giant realised that the lights might be the far-off lights of the city of Tinse-Tonse-Tao. But he felt sleepy and so, lifting his head to send greetings to the moon, he lay his head on a rock and passed the night snoring in the path.
In the morning he was woken by a tickling feeling. He looked down and saw a small spotted fawn licking his swollen foot. She looked up with big eyes and spoke so softly he thought he might be dreaming.
“Never fear, great giant, you are not alone.”
She bounded off into the rising sunshine, which threw great rays down the path at him. His foot tingled but seemed less swollen; in fact it seemed smaller than he remembered it. From his pocket he took the honey that was the bees’ gift to him.
As he carried on down the path, however, his great right foot came crashing off the path, as it often did. As he did so, a cracking sound reached his ears, and in a moment a great raven flopped out of a bush and scratched at his eyelid, so that quickly it was bleeding and he could see out of only one eye.
“Great fiend! You have cracked my precious eggs! My people have had enough of you giants. I am calling the ravens together to declare war against you!”
Once more the giant spoke softly. “I have been foolish again, I am hurt again. But please give me a chance to mend your eggs.”
He bent down, took the needle and thread from his pocket, and looking through his one good eye he began clumsily to sew up the eggshells. Yet gradually he felt his hands working more firmly than before, and it seemed to him that they were strangely smaller than before. As the magic thread did its work, the other ravens were gathering, astonished, around him. At last one spoke in a deep but measured croak.
“You are learning, great creature. We thank you for mending our sister’s eggs. We cannot heal your eye, but we can give you a crown of feathers, to bring you good fortune on your journey.” And the giant marched on, sticking closely to the path, which seemed wider than before. As the heat of the day beat down on the giant he found part of the path where the trees gave shade, and a stream trickled past. He looked into the stream: there was a reflection behind him of a carpet, woven with threads that sparkled in the sunlight. He smelled the scents of the flowers on the banks of the stream, plucked a juicy mango from a tree above his head, and felt its delicious juice slip down his throat. Then he lay down by the stream and let its quizzical chatter lull him into a nap.
He was woken by a tickling feeling on his face. When he blinked his eyes open he found he could see again through both. He looked into the pretty face of the fawn, who had licked the dried blood from his eyelid.
“You are not alone, great soul,” she said. “And you are a giant no longer.”
The young giant wondered what she meant, but she bounded off through the trees. He stood up and found the path now easy to stick to, for he was now the size of a big man, not a giant. He wore the crown of feathers on his head, and as the afternoon wore on he began to see the flicker of torches ahead as the path led out of the valley and up to the walls of the great city of Tinse-Tonse-Tao. As he came up to the gate dusk was falling, but the city shone in a golden splendour.
The gate opened, and a woman stepped out, wearing a leather skirt and a leopard skin hat. She was Toombaasa, the Wise Woman, great friend to the animals, who had given their skins to her when they died, as well as the bones she wore around her neck. “Welcome, Master Magician,” she called out across the ever-closing gap between them. “For so you must be. The keeper of the lake said we would expect you, and you would come wearing a crown of raven feathers. You have one last task before your training begins. Take the silver sword from your pocket.” The young magician did so. “Now hit the moon with it.”
The magician laughed. He looked up to the sky, trained his eye, and threw the sword as accurately as he could towards the moon. The moon was too far for even a magician to hit, as he knew, but the force of his throw was so clear that the sword curled down into the very centre of Tinse-Tonse-Tao, and as it did so, it exploded into the most beautiful fountain of fireworks. The Wise Woman rushed forward to embrace the Master Magician, as a great cheer went up inside the city. Behind her came two servants of the city’s king, bringing with them the fine silken robes that belonged to the new Magician, replacing his old giant’s pants which were now far too baggy. The celebration held that day was remembered by old and young alike for years to come, and it lasted into the next day too, for they had been waiting for his arrival for many moons.
The next morning Toombaasa presented him with the carpet she had woven for him. “You are already a Master Magician,” she said. “I can only help you discover your own powers, not teach you anything new.”
Mysterious magic reaching the mountains, many a mile must he march to its source!
THE DOONAH DOOR
There was once a king who lived in a large and beautiful palace. He ruled his people wisely and well, and he himself was very content and happy with his lot, and was known by all his subjects as the Kind King. If ever the kingdom was threatened, he would show his skill in swordsmanship and lead his troops into battle himself, fighting valiantly to defend his people. It had been many years now since the Kind King had needed to fight, for the neighbouring kingdoms respected his strength, and he ruled over a peaceful realm.
But there was one thing that troubled him. In a part of the palace that few people visited, but which the king himself had seen on his tours of the palace, there was a strange door, called the Doonah Door. It was a thick, oaken door, rounded on one side, with a panelled gold door knocker and a lock - for which there was no key. The door was set in a frame made of purest white marble. The king had never worried about the door in the past, for he knew the world held many mysteries. But now he did worry.
You see, he had taken on an adviser who was not all he seemed. The adviser smiled politely and pretended to be a great friend to the king, and as kind as the king himself, but in fact he was a wicked sorcerer. It was not long before things started to go wrong in the palace. The king awoke one day to find the adviser standing over him sorrowfully. “Your majesty,” he moaned, “your wife, the queen, died in the night of a sudden illness. I tried to use my best medicine to save her but it was no good. I am terribly sorry.”
The king was heartbroken, but in the days that followed, this only made him more ready to listen to the sorcerer in disguise. The sorcerer told him that behind the Doonah Door hid magnificent treasures, including a glorious shield that would protect him against all enemies. The sorcerer became more and more powerful after the queen’s death, and convinced the king to organise a contest to open the door. Whoever succeeded would get to marry the king’s daughter.
The message was sent out across the land. Many men came to try their luck, in many different ways. Some tried brute force, to no avail; some forged their own keys to fit the lock, but nobody succeeded. News of the contest spread far and wide, and eventually it reached a family of locksmiths in a distant town.
Now the locksmiths were three brothers whose parents had died. The eldest two ruled their youngest brother as if he was their servant, for they considered him deeply foolish, and indeed he did have a habit of doing foolish things. The two elder brothers decided that they would head off to the palace to try their luck, but they insisted that the foolish one should stay behind to look after the house while they were gone.
As they set off on their journey the two brothers passed a bent and strange-looking old beggar woman. They were proudly showing off the great bunches of keys they had made for the palace contest, and she called out to them, “A key! A key! Give me a key, I beg of you, so that I may exchange it for food and shelter in the town.”
The two brothers stopped and frowned at her in astonishment. “Go away, silly woman. We are taking our keys on important business. We are going to the palace,” they pompously declared. And they carried on their journey.
When they reached the palace, they found themselves just as unlucky as everybody else – none of their beautiful keys fitted the lock of the Doonah Door. But the two brothers liked life at the court, and so they stayed and lazily passed their time there, drinking and feasting thanks to the kind king’s generosity.
The foolish one, who had been left for many months, continued to look after the house as he had been asked. One day he was setting off to the well to fetch water, when he came upon the same strange old beggar woman his brothers had met. “A key! A key!”, she called to him. “Give me a key, I beg of you, so that I may exchange it for food and shelter in the town.”
The foolish one felt his heart warm to the old woman. “A key I will gladly give you, but I only have one.” It was the key for his own front door, but he gave it to the old woman anyway.
The beggar woman looked wisely at him. She reached into her simple sack. “For your generosity, I will give you something in return. This silver thread will open the famous Doonah Door if you wind it around the doorknob and pull. Do not tell anybody else that you have it, for it will work only for you.” She reached in again. “Here is an ancient cooking pot. It may not look much, but if you make stew in it, the stew will never run out.” She reached in a third time, to the foolish one’s growing amazement, and pulled out a pitch black sword. “This,” she confided in a whisper, “is the sword of purity. Guard it well.”
The foolish one thanked the old beggar in return and decided to set off at once to find his brothers at the palace. He found them lounging around there, eating and drinking too much, and they were not at all pleased to see him. “You! We left you in charge of our house! Someone will break in and steal from us!”
Without thinking (for thinking was not something he was used to) the foolish one told them why he had come, how the old woman had given him a silver thread to open the Doonah Door, and as he spoke his brothers’ eyes almost popped out. When he had finished the brothers came up and boxed his ears and kicked him. They found the silver thread, and bowed to him with mocking smiles. “Thank you so much for coming, brother, now we will be able to win the hand of the princess, and the treasure that lies behind the Doonah Door.”
The brothers raced up to the royal quarters, demanding to see the kind king. “Your Majesty,” they called in their most royal-sounding tones, “we have in our possession an enchanted thread. Let us try to open the Doonah Door with it. The princess may decide which of us to marry, and perhaps your majesty would be so good as to let the other one have a share of the treasures behind the door.” The kind king was not best pleased, as he recognised the men as layabouts from the court. His daughter was even less pleased at the idea. Still, reluctantly the king allowed himself to be led off to the Doonah Door, where the brothers wound the thread round the doorknob, and pulled.
Nothing happened. The door remained firmly closed, no matter what the men did. The princess was deeply relieved, and asked her father if she could take the pretty thread for herself. The kind king, furious with the brothers, was happy to let her take it, and indeed ordered that the two should be made to work in the palace kitchens for failing a second time to open the door.
The two brothers pleaded innocence: “We were told the thread would work by our youngest brother. Truly he is the scoundrel here.” The kind king heard this, and still sent them off to the kitchens, but he ordered the third brother to be found and thrown into the palace dungeon.
Now you must know that the princess saw the foolish one being taken to prison by the guards, and her heart missed a beat on seeing him. She could not believe that this beautiful young man could really be a scoundrel. So she decided to dress up as a washerwoman and visit the boy in prison. She took with her a special vial of shrinking potion, which had been left to her by her mother, and she slipped silently past the sleepy guards at night. They thought she had come to collect the laundry! She whispered to the foolish one through the bars of his cell. “I came to find out the truth about the silver thread. How did your brothers come to have it?”
He told her how they had grabbed the thread from him, and how he wished he hadn’t mentioned it, as the old woman had warned him. The princess, certain now that he was innocent, passed him the vial of potion, which she took out of the folds of her washerwoman’s skirts. “Take this and you are sure to get a second chance,” she said, and gave him back the thread. Then she turned, lifted up her many skirts, and headed up the stairs out of the dungeon.
The foolish one drank the potion and found, to his amazement, that he was getting smaller and thinner. Soon he was able to squeeze through the bars of the cell, and escape without notice. He raced up the stairs, getting smaller as he went! He managed to reach the king and had no fear of asking to be allowed to open the door: he was now the size of a dwarf and the kind king did not recognise him.
He came gingerly up to the great door and tied the thread around the gold doorknob. As he began to pull, the Doonah Door suddenly spoke, bellowing at him in a low timber voice: “The Doonah Door will open. However, I have been enchanted. Whoever has ordered me to be opened from the outside will now die.” And as the door opened, a great blast of fire belched forth, and burnt the kind king to cinders.
There was weeping and tears all around, from all except the wicked sorcerer, the false adviser. He spoke calmly to the courtiers. “It is clear that we need stability in these troubled times. I propose that the best way forward would be for me to become king.” As he showed his rotten and yellowing teeth, sharp as a wolf in the night, nobody dared speak against him. The only thing that was moving now was the foolish one – who was growing again, as the shrinking potion wore off. “I hereby banish you from the kingdom,” said the sorcerer in a voice that made the temperature drop, “for being foolish enough to cause the king’s death.” The sorcerer also called for the two brothers to be called up from the kitchen. “I shall have two new advisers, men who warned us all what evil this man was up to.”
The sorcerer’s guards instantly seized hold of the foolish one and marched him out of the palace. They didn’t stop marching until they had reached the edge of the kingdom, where there lay a barren desert. There he was thrown unceremoniously to the ground and left to fend for himself.
Years passed, and in that place where nothing grew he only survived thanks to the old beggar woman’s stew pot that never ran out. He despaired of ever returning to the kingdom, now that the sorcerer was in charge, or of ever seeing the princess again. At last, when he had almost given up on life itself, he found himself one day sitting on a rock in the midday heat, and a small lizard appeared with a strangely bent tail.
The lizard spoke to him. “How odd to find a human here, surviving in this starkest of deserts. You must be looking for the land beyond the Doonah Door.”
The foolish one looked in surprise at the lizard. “The land beyond the Doonah Door? All I saw behind the Doonah Door was a blaze of fire!”
The lizard whispered further, “There is much that you do not know about the Doonah Door, although I know, because I listen to the wind, that you were the one who opened it. The land beyond the door was once open to the palace and the people of your kingdom, but, long ago, the sorcerer who now rules created the Doonah Door, with the help of dwarvish craftsmen. Now the land is a place of misery from which no-one can escape, although it appears to be a paradise. Here the sorcerer secretly keeps the spirits of all those he has conquered, transformed into birds and beasts who live in this fake paradise, defended by dragons. All the birds and beasts there will do the sorcerer’s work for him, so if you choose to go there you must be wary. To get there you must jump into the desert stream, which bubbles up beyond the rock you sit on and soon disappears underground. To be safe in the land, you must fill your gourd with water from the stream, and sprinkle it in front of you as you enter the land. While you sprinkle you must sing to the dragons:
‘Fire of the sun, shine in my heart
Light of the day, show me the way’
Be careful that you reach the Doonah Door before midnight, or it will not open for you any more than for the poor spirits trapped there.”
Thanking the lizard, the foolish one did not need to be told twice. He leapt to his feet, which no longer felt so weary, and searched for the strange stream that bubbled through the desert sands. As he jumped in he was sucked downstream and into a deep cavern. The stream pulled him on to a place with an eerie light. He tumbled out of the stream just in time to see seven mighty red dragons, with scales shimmering and flashing, growling and warbling, stomping and galumphing in his direction.
Quickly he filled up his gourd with water from the clear stream, and he began to sprinkle it in front of him, singing the song the lizard had sung to him:
‘Fire of the sun, shine in my heart
Light of the day, show me the way’
Hearing this, the dragons backed away, snorting into the shadows, and he journeyed on into a world filled with the most beautiful birds and creatures. He wondered to himself where might be the king and queen, but he carried on singing in spite of the birds invitations to join him, and marched onwards through the land, searching for the Doonah Door. It took him many hours to cross the land, and eventually he could see a great wall ahead of him, surrounded by thick thorn hedges. He was convinced that this must be where the Doonah Door lay, and so he unsheathed the sword of purity. It shone, with a powerful, ebony black shine, glimmering in the eerie light. As creatures crowded round him curiously, he began to cut his way furiously through the hedge. He knew he had to get through quickly, for midnight was coming; as he cut through he could sense around him something bursting into bloom. At last he could see the Doonah Door looming in front of him; and to his side he could see the most exquisite red flowers he had ever seen. He turned to them, gazing at them in all their beauty… and in an instant he was frozen to the spot. Midnight struck. The foolish one was transformed in that moment into a tiny, drab, grey bird.
Long years had passed back in the palace too. The sorcerer had destroyed the old castle, and instead created a great grey fortress around the Doonah Door. The princess had put up with the death of her parents, and the terrible rule of the sorcerer-king; but finally she decided that she must go to the desert too, to find the man she wanted as her husband. She had not wandered for long when she passed a rock with a lizard with a bent tail sitting on it. The lizard spoke softly to her.
“Dear princess, I see you come looking for the man you love. He has gone to the land beyond the Doonah Door, to try and break the spell the sorcerer has put on that place. But the foolish one did not reach the Doonah Door by midnight, as I warned him to. If you follow him, you will need, like him, to reach the Doonah Door by midnight yourself, and open it with the sword of purity, but you have an extra task first. You must identify correctly which creature in the land is actually the spirit of the third son. If you do not choose right, you will be trapped there forever.”
Some people might be a little nervous to hear all this, but the princess was delighted. She followed the directions to get into the land beyond the Doonah Door, just like the foolish one had done, and she was soon in the land and filling her gourd with spring water. She turned to face the seven mighty red dragons, with scales shimmering and flashing, growling and warbling, stomping and galumphing in her direction, and sang fearlessly to them:
“Fire of the sun, shine in my heart
Light of the day, show me the way”
Dazzled by the princess and her beauty, the dragons became gentle as she sprinkled water at them, and soon she was walking through the land, with the dragons following her like pets. Indeed, all the creatures, birds and beasts together, followed the princess on her journey. She admired the spectacular colours of them all, but she was looking for one creature in particular. There was a little grey bird on a branch, singing plaintively at her, and although it did not look much compared to the others, when she looked into its eyes she had no doubt who it was. “Greetings, dear husband-to-be. I have come to release you from the sorcerer’s spells.” The little bird followed behind her, and as she sang her song it echoed her with its whistles.
At last, they reached the Doonah Door, and lying in front of it was the sword of purity, emitting a beautiful black light which she had never seen before. She picked up the sword and lifted it high above her head. With a great sweep she brought it crashing down against the Doonah Door, and the princess heard a great cracking sword as the great wooden door split in two. As it did, the doorway itself began a thunderous roll, and turned over until its great curve made an archway over the princess’s head. There was now no stopping her, or the creatures behind her. She walked triumphantly beyond the archway and stepped into the sorcerer’s palace, and as the little grey bird flew through it became once more the youngest brother of the locksmith family. He held the hand of the princess, and while they gazed at each other the other creatures pressed through, quickly turning into a mighty crowd of restored human beings, led by the kind king.
Together now, the crowd all began to sing the song the lizard had taught, louder and louder:
“Fire of the sun, shine in my heart
Light of the day, show me the way.”
The sorcerer had rushed towards the Doonah Door on hearing the great crack and roll, but as he heard the song he covered his ears helplessly. The princess lost no time in marching up to him, and lifting the sword of purity one more time she plunged it into his heart. As the sorcerer fell to the ground, a tiny ringing sound could be heard, getting louder and louder, echoing further and further around the great archway. The sorcerer crumbled into dust as the ringing got louder and louder. The two older brothers came running to look for their master, and as they did so the walls of the fortress began to crumble as easily as the sorcerer had done. Two falling blocks came crashing down on them, and they followed their master into death.
The crowd standing around the archway bunched together while the rocks fell all around, and soon found that only the marble arch stood firm. The light of the outside world shone in on them, causing many of them to blink after the eerie light of the land beyond the Door.
The kind king spoke gravely to the formerly foolish one. “I was mistaken in imprisoning you. I see now that you truly deserve to win my daughter’s hand in marriage, and I see that she is strong enough to make her own choice of husband. I hereby declare that the marriage ceremony will be held right here, under the arch that will form the heart of a new palace. My only sadness is that my poor dead wife could not be here to see our daughter’s wedding.”
The crowd cheered, and the preparations for the wedding began. As the ceremony was about to begin, the strange old beggar woman approached the arch. “I have come to see the wedding,” she said, “and it is a day of great happiness for me. For in truth, I am the queen and the mother of the princess.” She unveiled herself to the amazement of the king and his followers. She spoke further to them all.
“I was worried when I saw the sorcerer arrive in the kingdom. I never trusted him, because with my own magic I could see into his mind. He knew that, and when he became the king’s adviser he put a curse on me, which forced me to wander in disguise far from the castle. Only with his death have I been able to return.” The wedding party was now complete, and was celebrated with great joy. Afterwards the kind king pledged that the palace would now be rebuilt out of clear white marble, just like the archway at its core. The new prince and princess lived in great happiness in the palace, for the rest of their days.
Do you dare to dream of the dragons behind the Doonah Door?
THE HOLEY HAMMOCK
One day, the sandy-island princess decided to visit her friend the Master Magician, and so she set sail in her boat. It was a quiet journey, mostly spent in watching the waves ripple past, and when she arrived in the Master Magician’s country, she tied the boat up and walked to his house close to the shore. Everything was silent when she arrived, and as she waited for him to answer the door, and waited, and waited, she realised that he must be off helping somebody on his flying carpet. The house was locked, but the garden gate was open, and she thought to herself that she should just have an eensy-weensy look around the garden so that her journey was not wasted. It was a beautiful garden, full of colourful flowers and shady trees, and with a trickling stream running through it. As she wandered through the garden she noticed something slung between two trees: a hammock! She was feeling a little sleepy after her journey, so she decided to try the hammock out. A little uncertainly, a little clumsily, she clambered into it.
The moment she had done so, a fish leapt up from the nearby stream. It called out to another one, “Hey! She’s hanging happily in his holey hammock!”
The poor little princess was so surprised that she tumbled out of the hammock again, but as she did so she twisted it so badly that it snapped. The fish now turned to her. If it had had a finger to wag it would have been wagging it. “You’ll have to fix that, you know.”
Rather sheepishly, the princess replied. “Oh, I’m sure a little needle and thread will fix it. I’ll leave it to the magician, he doesn’t even know I’ve been here, so he’ll never know it was me that broke it.”
The fish flew into the air wildly and shrieked. “Little princess, this is no ordinary hammock! To fix it is a much bigger task than you think. It is a hammock that holds the future! If you sleep in it your dreams will tell you things that are still to happen, and more than that, the hammock gives you the power to change the future. It is made of no ordinary thread, but a special rope of thick silk, woven by a thousand red spiders. They live far over the sea, on the island of rubies. The island is ruled by a terrible Crocodile King and his crocodile army, and to get there is a perilous journey. You must travel across wild seas and through sharp rocks.” The little princess so wished she had not climbed into the hammock!
The fish carried on, “This magical garden has things that can help you on your journey, however. The tree to which the left side of the hammock is tied has dropped its red fruit. Eat one, refresh yourself, but keep three seeds from it safe. If you drop one, a tree will instantly grow where it lands. Take a handful of petals from the tree on the right; scatter them if you need help. And there is a crystal dove at the foot of that tree. Unlike the hammock, it is not broken, but it is very fragile. Look after it with care.”
The little princess gathered the gifts from the garden, and as she ate the strange red fruit, she felt a little more determined to repair the hammock for her friend. She returned to the shore, and began to set sail in a new direction, towards the island of rubies. As she travelled, a school of dolphins came past her, and seeing them made her so happy she began to feel like things might not be so difficult after all.
However, soon she saw a distant ship on the horizon. It was much bigger than hers, and it seemed to be heading right for her. As she looked up the mast, she realised it was flying a black flag with a skull and crossbones on it. Pirates! A number of fierce-looking men appeared on the decks. One with a patch over his eye, started shouting orders to the others, and somebody soon brought him a telescope. He stared through it, straight at the princess, and then he threw his head back, shaking the greasy locks of his hair, and he began to laugh a laugh that would have churned the stomach of anyone not already feeling seasick.
The princess realised that he was making sure the boat kept coming towards her. To capture a princess would be a valuable prize for any pirate ship, and she was terribly frightened. She could not think what she could do, until she felt in her pocket, and then she remembered the seeds from the fruit tree. They were supposed to grow a tree wherever they fell, but she could not imagine a tree growing in the middle of the sea. Still, as the ship got closer and closer she realised there was no other choice.
She threw one of her seeds into the water. The water bubbled and churned, and all of a sudden the evil grins on the pirates’ faces turned to surprise and shock. A huge tree came soaring up out of the water, and the pirate ship crashed straight into it. The ship was badly damaged, and began letting in water faster than the pirates could do anything about it. The princess steered her little boat far away from them, as the pirates, screaming and yelling, sank beneath the waves. Soon all that was left besides driftwood was a small packet, which floated towards her. It contained strange smelling herbs and spices from the pirates’ kitchen, and she kept it with her as a trophy.
She sailed on through the day, relieved to have escaped from the pirates. She missed the dolphins now, and wondered where they had got to. All of a sudden she saw a fin, and thought it was the dolphins who had returned. But as she saw more and more fins circling her, she realised in a panic that they were not dolphins at all. They were hungry sharks on the look out for food! Perhaps she would be their supper! No tree would stop the sharks, but she still had the petals in her other pocket. She lifted them out and sprinkled them into the water, just as the first shark jaws began to snap at her. As the petals landed in the water they turned into small, tasty fish, and with a sigh of relief the princess watched the sharks tucking in to the fresh feast.
The princess was feeling quite lost, and as the sharks finished their food, she called to them: “Dear sharks, do you know the way to the island of rubies?” The sharks turned as one and began to swim across the seas, surrounding her, but she had the sense that they were leading her. The seas were getting choppier and choppier, and overhead the skies were filling up with grey clouds. As the first specks of rain began to drop the princess thought she was in trouble. A great storm was brewing, and the waves began to get higher and higher, the wind blew faster and faster, and the rain began to pour down on her. She could soon hardly see where she was going, but the sharks kept close to her boat and she just followed them through the storm, steering her way through high waves in the direction they were leading her. As the thunder crashed all around her, the princess knew she was safer than it seemed. By the time the waves began to calm down the princess was feeling exhausted, but as she looked over the widening horizon again, she could see some grand rocks up ahead.
There was a passage of water between two of the biggest ones, and she steered her little boat in that direction. As she got closer she could see a figure low down on a little outcrop of rock. He was waving frantically at her, and she pulled up alongside him.
The figure was rather plump and red-faced, and he also looked even redder than usual from having more exercise than he was used to. “I am the Guardian of the Passage to the Island of Rubies. At least, I am supposed to be, but my home is on the top of these rocks. I slid down the side of them when I was hit by a wave in the storm, and it is only by luck that I found my way onto this ledge and not into the water. I need ropes to get back up to my house!” He sighed, helplessly, and breathlessly.
The princess thought carefully. “I don’t have any ropes, but I can give you a tree to climb.”
The Guardian looked surprised, but not half as surprised as he was when the princess threw one of her seeds onto his ledge, and in an instant a tall tree had grown, with plenty of climbable branches. He turned to her in delight. “Thank you dear princess! By the way, so rude of me not to ask before - where are you headed?”
She told him she was headed to the island of rubies, and he shook his head in concern. “Usually I tell people to keep away, but since you seem determined to get help from the spiders, let me help you.”
The Guardian gave her a rosewood ring as a gift, and told her that she might be safe from the crocodiles – if she gave them her golden ball. The princess had brought her favourite golden ball all the way from her home, she kept it with her always, and was horrified at the thought of parting with it. Still, she listened further to the Guardian.
“The crocodiles on the island love to play with balls. To reach it, however, is a difficult journey. When you spy the island, you will need to tie your boat up, and swim alone to the island, for no boats are allowed there. Do so with care.”
The princess did as the Guardian told her, she sailed through the passage, carefully avoiding the rocks sticking out, through choppy waters, and finally she could see the island. She waited until nightfall, then put down her anchor and swam ashore. The whole island seemed to glow with the red light of the rubies. A busy hum of activity attracted her, and she soon found a strange sight: a thousand red spiders, busy working and producing thread. Indeed, it seemed that there was already a length of rope waiting for her, just the right length for the hammock. She was about to pick it up when she thought that she had better go and ask the spiders if she could take it.
“Dear princess,” said the leader of the spiders, with sorrow in his tiny eyes; “the king of the crocodiles is making a special cage from ropes. He would definitely miss this, and we would be in terrible trouble – and so would you. If you want some of our rope, you must first deal with the crocodile king.”
The princess’s heart sank. She headed step-by-nervous-step to where the crocodiles were sleeping. The king was a giant beast, with a huge row of cruel-looking teeth. He opened an eye as she approached, and remembering the Guardian’s words, the princess took her golden ball out of her pocket and rolled it towards the crocodile, as an offering of peace.
He grinned a most ugly grin at her, and swallowed the ball. Then he burped. “Thank you, beautiful princess. Now you are my prisoner.” And he called his guards, who dragged the poor princess off – to the very cage the spiders had warned her about.
The princess slept uneasily in the cage that night, but when she woke in the morning she could remember her dream. In it she had been standing in a field of vegetables and under marvellous fruit trees. It had been a vivid, colourful dream, and she realized that it was more than a dream: it was a vision of the future, given because she was sleeping in a cage made of the same magical ropes as the Magician’s hammock. And she remembered that she still had a seed from the red fruit. She felt a small ray of hope as she saw the crocodile’s grin on his approach to his prisoner.
“I see that you crocodiles live on an island of beautiful rubies, but I am sure that I could make beautiful things grow here too. Give me a place to work and I shall make you a wonderful garden.”
The crocodile snapped his jaws together while he thought. At last, he declared, “That is a grand boast, princess, and it deserves a worthy bargain in response. If you can create a garden for us with the best food imaginable, and work hard for a year and a day, I may well let you go.”
The princess was led out of the cage and off to a barren-looking spot. She began her work by dropping the final seed on the ground, and a big tree instantly grew, laden with fruit and with plenty of shade. The princess began to dig hard in the ground that was sheltered, and as she turned the soil more and more she felt the hard crystals changing with her work. The fruit soon fell, and gave her the chance to plant plenty more seeds, and they too brought up wonderful trees rapidly; and in the orchard she had created, the crystals changed into seeds that produced thick roots and stems. As the weeks and months passed, the princess kept working – getting blisters on her hands and feet for the first time in her life. In the end she looked at a blossoming garden of miraculous vegetables and fruits, just like in her vision in the cage.
The crocodile king was amazed and very pleased with the way the garden grew. He snapped his appreciation, and called to the princess: “Well done! If you can work so well in the garden, I’m sure you will also be able to produce delicious meals in the kitchen. Get to work!”
The poor princess then headed off for the kitchen, knowing that the crocodiles would only accept food that tasted perfect. She had never worked in a kitchen before, but in time she learned to chop ingredients from the garden and mix them together into increasingly tasty dishes. What particularly helped her was the packet of spices she had rescued from the wreckage of the pirate ship, which made her food irresistible. The princess worked in the kitchen with care and attention, just as she had in the garden, and it seemed that soon a year and a day had passed. The crocodile king called her to him once more.
“Here is the day of our bargain, dear princess. I may yet give you your freedom. However, there is one condition which I could not tell you until now. You can be free, provided you now give me the crystal dove you were given in the Master Magician’s garden. If you do not, I shall be forced to offer you to my servants as their next meal.” If he had been able to twiddle his fingers and pretend that he was thinking about something else, he would have done. As it was he waited as lazily as crocodiles tend to wait, making you think they are not bothered about anything.
The princess thought long and hard. She vaguely remembered the crystal dove, but so many things had happened to her that she had paid little attention to it. It lay still wrapped up in her pocket, and carefully she pulled it out and began to unwrap it. It was broken, cracked into a hundred pieces, as she had forgotten to care for it.
Desperately, the princess turned to the crocodile king. “I have cared for you and your servants for over a year. Do not let me die now! I have one more thing to offer.” She reached in her pocket for another gift, the wooden ring from the Guardian. “Please accept this from me instead of the dove.”
The crocodile looked at her in triumph. “I can only accept this as a wedding ring,” he said. “If you will marry me, I will gladly take it.” The princess was horrified, but she saw that he was serious. Something in her heart must have told her that all was not as it seemed, for she gulped, drew herself up to her full height, carried the ring to him, and slipped it onto one of his scaly claws.
In that moment there was a blaze of light, and before her stood no crocodile, but a bright shining king in a ring of fire. “Princess, I am the Fire King. I have been testing you this past year, and now you have finally shown you have passed the test. Come with me – we have a hammock to fix.” He collected the right length of rope, with thanks to the spiders, and he told the princess to hold tight to him. Then, he reached up and flew into the sky, a great, burning hot fireball – but the princess, safely in the centre, was held fast and did not burn. The Fire King and the princess raced across the sky, and soon landed once more in the Master Magician’s garden.
They were not a moment too soon. It seemed that some of the pirates had survived the sinking of their ship, and these desperate men had made it to the nearest shore, right by the Master Magician’s house, where they had been living a life of thievery from a base in the trees. They had caught the Magician unawares after he had returned from his travels, and now they were attacking him with cutlass swords, and he was using as many spells as he could think of to fight them off. The Magician had been surprised by the pirates, because he had been unable to see their future arrival from his dreaming hammock.
As the Fire King and the princess arrived, the Fire King raised his arms and sent balls of flame out of his hands which ate up the pirates’ swords. Quickly, the pirates realized that they had met their match, and in a panic they left the garden – and the princess rushed up to speak with the Magician.
“Dear Magician, I am so sorry for breaking your hammock. I come, at last, with the special rope needed to mend it. Please forgive me.”
The Magician smiled at her. “Princess, you must know that only someone who has met with the Fire King is worthy to use this hammock of mine. Now that you have done so, when it is mended you will be able to use my hammock whenever you like.”
The Fire King spoke next, his voice hot and full. “Magician, do you perhaps have another crystal dove for the princess? Sadly she broke that present too.” The princess blushed.
The Magician lifted his cape and produced a beautiful, shining new one. The Fire King turned to the princess. “If you can keep this dove safe, for a year and a day, then you may come and reign with me as my true Fire Queen.” This time, the princess was extra careful to look after it well.
And so, when another year and a day had gone past, the princess returned to the Island of Rubies as a queen. And the spiders had made her a present – her own hammock, which she lay in, in the ruby garden, whenever she wished to be prepared for the future.
Hey! She’s hanging happily in his hammock with holes in!
ANGEL ‘A’
There was much rejoicing in heaven. The angels sang their songs together, joining their notes in chorus – “Alleluia!”, they sang, “Ah, Ay, Ee, Oh, Alleluia!” Each angel had their own sound and their own song. If they were left to themselves they would have sung the whole day long, in great joy. But, of course, there were other beings in the universe that called for their attention.
The leader of the angels called all the angels together one day. “There is a big problem on the earth,” said the eldest angel, speaking in tones that were like a hundred pipe organs playing music together. “A wicked demon is capturing all the princesses in the world. Every time he captures a princess, the world begins to freeze a little. He is hoping to stop spring from ever happening again. Only an angel who takes human form can slay the demon. We need somebody to go down to the earth to fight this demon.”
A muttering went on amongst the angels. One spoke up, “This is quite a task you are asking, great elder. We know that angels who take human form risk losing their angelic natures forever. Who is brave enough to make that choice?”
There was silence as all the angels considered these words. At last, a brave young angel stepped forward, Angel A, dressed in shining red robes. He said strongly, “I will do it! I will tackle the demon.”
A great cheering broke out, until the elder angel spoke again. “You are brave, Angel A. As you know, normally humans forget their lives in the heavens when they are born on earth. You will be given angelic potions to help you remember why you have gone to earth, and to help you keep your angelic voice. Now I say to you: go far, past the stars, and shine in the dark. Start a spark that brings new laughter to grasslands and farms.”
As Angel A flew to the earth, he found that his wings and his beautiful red robes were burnt off. The demon’s influence on the earth was already very strong. Angel A was born high in the mountains, surrounded by snow and ice, and had a peaceful time as a child there. His father tended cattle and goats, his mother grew vegetables in a small garden there. It took Angel A some time to adjust to his new life, and his awkward new human body. He remembered having been an angel, and his new small body was very frustrating. As he grew older, his parents began to argue more with each other, and his father began to treat his animals more harshly, hitting the goats and cattle. His mother used to keep some vegetables aside to feed the mountain birds in the harsh winters, but now she insisted on keeping all the food for themselves. At last, the memory potion he’d taken began to work. Angel A woke up one day and remembered he had come to slay the demon, and he realised that the demon’s influence must be affecting his parents. There was no time to lose!
Trusting in his angelic powers, Angel A bade his parents a quick farewell and hurried away from his mountain home, down into the valleys below. He wore a bright red suit, which his mother had made for him when she discovered how much he liked the colour, and which would have made him stand out if anyone was really looking at him. But it was clear from the valleys that the demon must be capturing more and more princesses. The people there walked around barely looking at each other, their heads hung low, and as spring had got shorter and shorter it was clear that many farmers were not managing any more. Fences were lying broken, and sheep and goats were wandering around as if nobody cared about them or minded where they went. Angel A found a horse wandering in the road, and he spoke to it. “Where is your master?”
The horse snorted. “My master? He is in bed, as usual. He used to work hard on the farm, but now he can’t seem to be bothered.”
Angel A said, “You know, perhaps he feels a bit like me. I’m tired of walking around on the ground the whole time. I’m an angel, but I’ve lost my wings, and I’d love to get up in the air again. I’ve come to fight the demon who’s stopping spring.”
The horse stopped and looked at him. “Why don’t you leap onto my back, little angel. It may not be quite like having wings, but wherever the demon is, you’ll get there faster if I gallop than on your little legs.”
Angel A felt the wind on his back as the horse galloped, and he remembered then his angelic voice. He began to sing, and as he did so the drooping flowers in the fields turned to look at him. The trees, which were slouching sleepily, began to bend towards him, and their branches shook themselves awake with their thin withered leaves. The animals too stopped in their wandering and looked at him. Now Angel A felt sure that he would soon get the demon to notice him too.
Soon the horse brought him to the edge of a big town. He could see beggars wandering in the streets, and people looking at the ground or only looking at each other to fight and argue. Angel A began to sing, but to his disappointment the people didn’t notice him while he sat on the horse. He thanked the horse, who trotted away merrily into the crowd, and put his feet down to the ground again. Then he spoke clearly to the crowds on the streets. “Awake, awake! May you be brave! Let’s save the world today!”
All of a sudden people stopped and began to look curiously at him. One man came up to Angel A. “What are you after?”
“I’m looking for the demon who’s been stealing princesses”, said Angel A.
The man shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know anything about that, but if you’re looking for princesses you’d best ask the king. His castle stands in the centre of the town. You can’t miss it.”
Angel A hurried to the royal castle. He could see that the way was barred by two mean looking guards. “Halt! Who goes there!” They called as he tried to pass through them. He opened his mouth and began to sing, and to their great surprise the guards found themselves letting him through. The castle was dingy and dusty, with dim lights and nobody much around. He looked in every room, and finally found signs of life at the top of the stairs. The king was sitting in a dark room counting stones.
The king didn’t even look up as Angel A came in. “I think I had 52 orange ones, 37 blue ones, 71 gray ones. Bother!”
Angel A spoke up. “Your majesty, I’m searching for the demon who’s taking all the princesses. Where can I find him?”
“Oh no!” said the king angrily. “You’ve made me forget how many purple stones I had. And your red glow is confusing me, I can’t see which are blue and which are purple. Why are you glowing red by the way?” At last the king looked up, astonished. “Oh yes, the princess, I’d forgotten about her. That demon is so powerful, his magic was making me forget. You know, his lair is in the highest, coldest, snowiest peaks in the world, far to the north. All the land round there has frozen solid, it’s simply not worth even trying to get there. And besides, his magic is taking over all of us. It’s quite hopeless. Now I must get on with counting these stones.”
Angel A felt cross now. “Your majesty, your people are starving! You should be ruling the country!”
“Should I? Oh you’re probably right. I’ve had a headache recently, haven’t been much good for anything. Well, you’d better help me up if you want me to do something.”
And so Angel A persuaded the king to write out a royal proclamation. He brought it to the window and quietly announced it. “Five hundred brave strong and true men and women are asked to join the boy ‘A’ in killing the wicked demon. The king will reward you handsomely.” Nobody was listening, and nobody heard. The king rolled up the royal proclamation and put his royal seal onto it with royal wax. Angel A took the royal proclamation and left the castle.
As he passed out into the town, he began to call the royal proclamation himself, singing it in his crystal clear voice. Men and women began to hear him, in the town and in the country all around, and some began to join with him enthusiastically. As they travelled north they could see that the fields were becoming frozen, and the roads were getting icy. Around them they could hear the cries of sick animals and people.
A raven flew down to Angel A at the head of his army. “Angel A, I know you have come to slay the demon. We are all dying here because the winter is much too long. People have forgotten how to work on their farms, and how to look after the land. The demon wants the whole world to freeze, and he has only to capture three more princesses for his wish to become real. He uses black dragons as his servants, and they seize all the princesses for him.”
As the army reached the great snowy mountains, they all began to feel sick. They felt their heads throbbing, or stabbing pains in their feet. Angel A realised what was happening, and he sang louder and louder. His beautiful voice helped them find the strength to carry on. They used packhorses and ropes to get higher and higher into the mountains, where the snow lay thick – but also grey, not white. A powerful blizzard of sticky grey snow began to fall, and it became even more difficult to get up the mountain sides. Angel A sang his best, most beautiful song, and the snow stopped falling. As the skies cleared they could see an ugly black dragon above them, carrying a moaning princess off to the demon’s lair.
Still the army carried on through the snow. Angel A led them to a great mound of crystal. He knew that this would help the army, and asked each to hack off a piece of it. Instantly the men and women found their throbbing pains had stopped. Just as they were all breathing with relief, they heard a sound overhead. It was another ugly black dragon, carrying another princess to the demon’s lair.
At last, Angel A and his army found themselves at the entrance to a great grey cave. The opening looked like the mouth of a mighty monster. They charged into it, and as they did so heard a screeching noise behind them: it was the last ugly black dragon, carrying the very last princess in all the world to be captured. Ahead of the army was a great fire of blue flame, and towering above it was the demon. He had seven arms and five eyes, and a voice full of venom. “Only now do the forces of heaven come!” he mocked. “Pah! When this princess is put with the others, winter will last forever. You are too late, Angel A. I know your name. I have spies everywhere.”
The terrible demon looked up, just in time to see the last ugly black dragon being attacked by Angel A’s brave army. Many of them were injured, but the dragon was sent screeching into the blazing blue fire. The demon grabbed the poor princess close and began to swipe at the army, and he was so strong that he could kill many of them at a time. Angel A sent many of his soldiers ahead to find the other princesses, trooping through the darkness at the sides of the cave, but he joined the fight against the demon himself.
The demon’s seven long arms meant he could fight many people at a time. Whenever somebody managed to chop an arm off, another grew back. But Angel A just began to sing, and at this the demon put two hands to his ears, and at that moment the warriors managed to chop off two more of his arms. While they were starting to grow again, Angel A leapt high into the air, and plunged his sword into the demon’s head. The demon howled and let go of the princess, but Angel A caught her as she fell. As he came down he discovered that he could at last float, for he was now remembering how to fly, without needing wings. The warriors around him looked up, noticing how red he was now glowing.
The demon struggled back to the blue flame, which was being protected by the ugly black dragons. Angel A looked up and saw that the flame had burnt into the roof a sculpture of a grey rock flower. He soared up to it, singing with all his might. The rock flower began to shudder, and a tearing, cracking sound could be heard across the cave. The flower came crashing down and put out the fire of blue. At this, Angel A’s warriors surged forwards, their courage renewed like his own red glow, and the demon soon gasped his last breath. As the demon was cut into seven pieces, the fiery breath of the ugly black dragons also sputtered to a stop. Angel A called his troops together. “The demon has been conquered. One piece of him will be taken to each of the seven continents, and buried in the earth to help the spring return.”
Just as he finished his speech a cry of women went up. The warriors Angel A sent had found the princesses, but they were frozen in a great block of ice. With the demon’s death the ice had begun to melt, and now it had broken apart and freed them.
The army soon regrouped itself and began to descend the mountains, taking with them the dragons, who carried the wounded. The dragons had found new masters now that the demon’s magic was broken, and they soon became renowned as the strongest farm animals in the world, for those who could put up with how ugly they were.
Meanwhile Angel A flew back to the heavens, taking with him the brave warriors who had died in the battle. The angels gathered to welcome him back, and the angels asked him how he could be rewarded. He answered as none of them would have expected. “I have grown to love the earth, and I would like to see a real spring there now.”
‘A’ returned to earth, and to the castle of the king, whose daughter had been the last one the dragons brought to the demons’ cave. The king had stopped counting stones, and had remembered how to be a proper king. So he was delighted to welcome Angel A back, and still more delighted to let him marry his daughter, with a grand royal celebration. Together they lived a happy life on earth for many more years.
Go far, past the stars, and shine in the dark. Start a spark that brings new laughter to grasslands and farms.
Awake, awake! May you be brave! Let’s save the world today!
Action at the demon’s back, call the lad who’ll lead the attack.
EAGLE ‘E’
Once there was a buck who lived in the depths of the forest next to a meadow. Every day she would come and dance among the long green grasses there, and would run alongside a trickling stream. There was something strange about the meadow, though: there were never any flowers growing in it.
One day an eagle swooped down from high above, and he was no ordinary eagle. With his mighty golden wings and his strange orange-golden glow, the buck was at first very surprised and a little bit frightened. “Don’t worry, little buck,” said the eagle. “I mean you no harm, but I have a question for you. Wouldn’t you like to see some flowers in this meadow? It has beautiful grasses, ferns and bracken, but haven’t you ever wondered why there are no flowers here?”
The little buck looked up eagerly. “Yes, please tell me, for there are flowers all over my wood – why not here?”
The eagle spoke gently. “Long ago elves used to play in this meadow. They loved to dance here, but a grumpy ogress cursed their shoes when they were climbing a far mountain. After that, wherever their shoes passed, flowers would not grow. They did not know this until they had been back to the meadow, and since then bees will not come near here and no flowers can grow. The elves no longer wanted to dance here, and have long since moved on. I can tell you that there is one way that flowers could be brought back. If you can bring honey back from the Great Honey River, the bees in your forest will eat it, and will drop some on the grasses and plants here. Only then will flowers grow here again.”
With that the eagle flapped up into the sky. The buck saw how big he was, and also saw how he had a strange golden-orange glow. For in truth the eagle was Eagle E, a great spirit from the heavens who had decided to spend more time watching over the people and animals of the earth. He had taken the form of an eagle who had extra powerful eyes to help him protect creatures, and he only showed his angelic glow to certain ones.
The little buck was filled with questions and a sense of adventure. She wondered to herself whether she could get the honey from the Great Honey River, and she went into the forest to talk to her friend, the porcupine.
The porcupine felt scared at the thought of going to the valley of honey where the famous river of honey was. “It’s such a long way!” he quivered, “There are many dangers along the way. Do you really love flowers so much?”
He saw in the little buck’s eyes that she did, and then told his friend, “You know, I think you might be able to do it, if you are very brave.” The little buck thought how proud people would be of her if she could bring the flowers back to the meadow, and she decided for herself that she would definitely go.
Just as she had decided to go on her adventure, Eagle E swooped down once more from the skies. Eagle E saw how strong the buck stood all of a sudden, and knew she was ready for the task.
“I am ready to find the valley of honey,” said the buck, “but which direction must I go?”
Eagle E told her to head west, and so she did, out of the cosy forest and onto the wide-open plains, with the eagle keeping watch high above. On the plains she felt a little nervous. “Aren’t there hunters out here? Surely they will see me out in the open.”
Eagle E looked around and sure enough he saw some hunters out from a nearby village looking for game. They were just busy washing in a river, and had left their guns by some trees on the bank. Eagle E followed the buck, encouraging her to go near the guns. He told her how to land her hoof on the right place to shoot a gun, and she jumped out of the trees. The men were wearing sun-hats in the river, and the buck managed to fire the gun and shoot a hole in the side of a sun-hat. Just as this happened Eagle E invisibly flew past and whipped the man’s hat completely off. The hunters leapt up in fright and confusion and scampered out of the water like circus clowns, knocking each other over in the process, as they heard the buck speaking from hidden in the trees.
“We bucks have had enough of you coming and shooting at us. We have many more weapons like that, and my brothers and sisters are all here hidden in the trees. Go back to your chief and tell him not to hunt animals any more.”
The hunters did not need to be asked twice. In fright they packed their bags and jumped onto their horses, and raced off to their village. Eagle E flew overhead and showed the buck the trail all the way to the village.
When the buck arrived and hid herself she heard the village chief shouting at the hunters, so loudly he was making himself hoarse. “I sent you to get hides to cover my new hut. Why have you come back empty-handed?”
When the hunters had explained what happened a wise elder stood up. “In the past we only used hides from old animals whose time to die had come, not from hunting young ones. Clearly the animals have had enough of this and are now angry with us.”
The chief was furious. “Nonsense!” he fumed, and stormed back towards his hut, but as he did so Eagle E dropped a great ball of mud on the chief’s head and he fell over. The wise elder looked into the sky and saw Eagle E soaring up, as the chief shouted, “Who was that?!”
“It was I,” said the young buck. “I come with a message from the kingdom of the animals. If your men will protect me with their spears, I will lead them to the valley of honey. If not then the animals will begin to hunt you.”
The chief saw the young buck standing bravely in front of him. Feeling very confused, he agreed to send the hunters off with the young buck, and just as the buck had asked, they took spears not guns as it was their duty to protect the buck. The buck was led as before by Eagle E, though the hunters could not see him. Instead they were amazed and exhausted in following the buck across rivers and valley, through woods and over hills.
A time came when the eagle slowed down and called to the buck. “Up ahead lies the realm of the black birds. No man or beast of the land has yet entered here. The blackbirds will try to peck your eyes out. Listen for my call and you will make it through.”
The buck braced herself, and then she ran and ran up a narrow path and into the black birds realm. The black birds shrieked and screeched at her. “We are the guardians of the way. No man or beast may pass this way.”
The buck heard the birds but she listened to the eagle’s call, “Eh! Eh!” She followed the cry while the hunters threw their spears to try and scatter the black birds. They chased after Eagle E’s call through a misty, cloudy realm, and it was difficult to see anything. Soon the buck saw a green glint, and she was sure the eagle would be going there too. But the eagle’s cry came from darkness further on. The buck decided to head for the green light, and as she did so the eagle’s cry grew fainter. The hunters behind her stumbled down a steep path and soon the black birds had descended on them. In no time they had pecked out the buck’s and hunters’ eyes.
The adventurers were led into a still grove, where they heard the king of the black birds speaking. “You have done well, surprisingly well, to get this far. You must have some protection from the gods. So my decision is this. I will lead you into the valley of honey, but the task is far from easy when you get there. The bees of the valley will decide your fate.”
The blind travellers were then led down into the valley. Worker bees were on patrol as they entered it. “Whoever enters this valley must show that they deserve to be here,” they buzzed. “You must find the source of the Great River of Honey before night falls, or face death by stinging.”
The buck and the hunters sat in despair, knowing they could not find the source of the river without their eyes. Then the buck heard a familiar call up above. “Do not worry, I am still here,” said Eagle E. He circled the buck and the hunters three times and then they felt a blast of orange glow in the middle of their foreheads, and then they felt a strange sensation. It seemed they could feel the forms of light, although they had no eyes. Eagle E told the buck that he would now lead the way, and he was quickly able to see the source of the river.
The buck got up and started following the eagle, calling the perplexed hunters to hurry on behind. All of them could see the great light of the sun sinking lower on the horizon, but they began to sink deeper into the valley, where they could smell all around them the sweetest herbs, plants and flowers that they had ever smelt. They were soon led under a canopy of guava trees, where the eagle made sure they all arrived safely. There was the trickling sound of the magical spring that became the honey river.
The queen bee was waiting for them. All around her was the grandest of all hives, with many towers everywhere, and millions of bees protecting it and building busily. “Greetings, travellers,” she buzzed. “You have been led to the purest honey in the world, which comes from the heart of the earth. If you’ve reached here it means your task is just. This honey can do many things, but above all it helps you see things truly. Wash yourselves and your eye sockets here.”
The travellers bent down and covered their faces in the sweet honey. In a hazy glistening glow they suddenly found themselves able to see – and able to see better than they had ever done before. They all looked up and realised that above them was the biggest bird they had ever seen, and he was trailing a golden-orange halo. While the hunters gasped in astonishment, Eagle E spoke to them.
“I do indeed come from the realm of the gods. Dear buck, you will now get your honey for the meadow. But your bravery shows you are ready for the next knowledge. Men from the village, to truly see one of my kind is an honour you must use well. The ogress who cursed the elves gave a son to your village and you chose him as your chief. If you can truly see the wonder of this world, you will kill him now. He has recovered his evil thoughts and has secretly followed us with a plan to destroy the Great River of Honey. He has many powerful magicians with him and will surely be able to kill the blackbirds if he finds his way into their realm. But now it is his turn to be hunted.”
The hunters raced out of the valley, and using their new powers of sight they were soon able to track the chief and find his footprints. They then followed his scent as if they were hunting animals, and they also listened carefully to hear the echo of his voice passing in the wind. He had no idea that they were behind him, for they would always hide quickly as soon as he turned around. The hunters had tipped their spears with the honey from the honey river, which the bees told them was the only way to defeat the ogre chief. They crept up on him silently and stuck their spears into both his head and his heart, and with these blows he collapsed onto the ground silently and turned into a steaming pile of ash.
Meanwhile the eagle showed the buck the best way back to the green meadow. When she arrived she began to pour honey everywhere, and flowers miraculously began to bloom as bees hummed happily out of the forest. At the moment the chief died a murmur was heard all around the forest, and soon it became a stamping and even a shouting, getting louder and louder on all sides. The buck’s heart beat fast as she wondered what it could all mean.
Suddenly she knew. It was the elves, returning once more to the meadow, and with smiling faces they lifted the buck high into the air. “We come to you on orders from Eagle E,” they giggled. “We come to make you the new chief of the village.” The elves began to dance faster and faster around the meadow, whooping for joy. The little buck felt a strange sensation as the elves’ wild wind whirled around her, and found her face, then her whole body, was changing. She looked down in surprise as a beautiful skirt billowed out around her. She had become a queen! The skirt flowed in the wind and the buck queen began to take off, flying up higher and higher into the air with the elves carrying the edges of the skirt up, up, out of the meadow and far away towards the village.
Eagle E was already there, just as the hunters returned carrying the ashes of the ogre chief. He swooped over the village and spoke clearly to all the people there. “Choose your new chief wisely,” he commanded. “It should be somebody who lives in peace with the nature all around you.” The people stood in amazement, and with the shining light of the eagle over them they were able to see clearly as the queen arrived with the elves. Each felt in their hearts that she must be the new chief of the tribe, and as one they all bowed down as she arrived. “Long live the chief! Long live the chief!”
The queen did not forget her forest life, of course. She quickly led a procession of villagers to the meadow, to dance and celebrate there with the elves among the beautiful flowers. For a while Eagle E danced with them, soaring overhead with the elves, but then he flew on, to help others to see the truth.
Lead to the east, to reach the bees in the valley of honey.
Elves come to enter the meadow, now so excellent forever.
IRON ‘I’
Iron I was a brave angel, and in the heavens she was always looking for the most challenging tasks to take on in her battle against dark and wicked forces.
On one such occasion she found herself at the edge of a whirling tornado which was too strong for her to resist, and she was sucked into it and right down to the earth. In fact she was sucked right into the earth, into a deep crater that the tornado had created, and the fall was so terrible that her body and her wings were ripped apart. Her spirit lived on, however, and being the spirit of an angel it was still very powerful. While she lay as if asleep, her spirit pulled iron out of the earth and built her a new body; and when she awoke she no longer seemed like an angel, but like a thick iron creature.
She felt very sleepy there, and in her heavy body 100 years could seem to her like just one day. The crater had formed close to the mines where many dwarves were working, and at last the dwarves stumbled upon her there. They could see a yellow glow in her eyes, and it felt to them that this strange-looking creature was actually very powerful and good, so they decided to take her to their king and help her. It took many dwarves to lift her, but they helped her to her feet and led her to meet the dwarf king and his council.
“Who are you, strange being?” asked the king in his gravelly voice. “We felt we must help you but we have never seen a creature like you before.”
Iron ‘I’ explained that she was an angel, and a great gasp went up among the dwarves. The king responded, “Though we know the angels are forces for good, there is no love lost between us and your kind. In olden days we were brothers, but then the angels found that if they stood on us they could take off more easily on their flights. Many a hard-working dwarf was squashed and bruised by a bossy angel.”
Iron I replied: “We are told differently, your majesty. The story goes that dwarves greatly prized our wings, and sneaked up to ambush many angels. With the wings they stole they learnt the secret of making gold, by mixing the wings into a potion.”
There was much uncomfortable muttering among the dwarves until the king spoke again. “Well, this all happened many ages ago, so let us not dwell any more on these unfortunate events. Besides, you are no longer a creature of the heavens. You may have an angelic soul, but you have a body forged from the earth, and I offer you the friendship of the dwarves.”
At that moment a messenger arrived, from the Emperor of the Southern Lands. The mighty shield of peace had been stolen, which the dwarves had fashioned from a special protective gold. Iron ‘I’ remembered watching over its construction from up in the heavens, and she spoke up. “You cannot simply make another shield of peace. This means that the times are changing, and I see I am needed here on earth. If anyone can get the shield back, I am sure that I can.” She was already warming to her new task.
Iron ‘I’ asked the dwarves to make her a sword, and they agreed to make her a great sword out of thick black iron. Slowly and painfully she began to practise her battle moves in her new iron body, which was so heavy after the lightness she had been used to in the heavens. The dwarf king sent a message to the emperor to say that he should soon expect to receive the mighty Iron ‘I’, who would save his empire and find the shield.
Far away in his palace, the emperor was waiting impatiently. Without the shield of peace, armies were beginning to form in the mountains, and strange rumbles were being heard under water at the coast. Far to the east could be heard the battle cries of an army of lions preparing for an attack. Meanwhile things in the north seemed strangely quiet, but this gave him no comfort. When the messenger arrived the king hoped to hear of a new shield that the dwarves were making; and he was cross to realize that there was no shield coming, and crosser still to hear of a blazing angel on her way to him.
You see, the emperor had been misled by an evil courtier who hoped to soon take the throne instead of him. The courtier had convinced him that accepting help from the heavens was a sign of weakness. In fact, the courtier was helping the trolls, who, he had discovered from his spies, had woken in the north after hundreds of years asleep. Seeing his chance to weaken the king further, the courtier had sneaked off with the shield of peace and given it to the troll king. In turn the troll king had taken the shield of peace deep into the earth in the north and had thrown it into a molten fire under the ground. Even the fire could not destroy the shield, and although the fire tried to swallow it up, it stayed whole, burning hot and untouchable under the earth. The fire was getting angrier and angrier at the idea of being unable to eat the shield, and it began to swell and grow, so much that the ground above was pushed up higher and higher. The farmers whose fields were above the shield were astonished to find a mountain being formed. They hardly had a chance to get away before the mighty mountain exploded into a great hot volcano. A great black cloud was spewed up into the sky as lava began to flow out of the top and down the mountainside.
After this dastardly deed, the troll king called the great rocky trolls together, with as much glee as a large, slow and stony troll could muster. “While we have been asleep terrible things have happened. The land has become green and fertile; plants have grown, animals play among them, and worst of all men are everywhere above the ground. Now, my dear trolls, we have returned. We’ve woken the earth’s fire: now let us take back the land.” The trolls cheered a low and syrupy cheer, and, following their leader, began to march slowly to the south.
Meanwhile Iron ‘I’ was led through the maze of dwarf tunnels, and with every step she walked she was feeling more and more comfortable in her new body. Her body was so sharp that sparks flew off when she put her feet onto the ground. She felt the weight of her new sword, and with her angelic powers she was able to swing it easily, although it weighed many tons. Finally she felt the sunlight flickering on her again, and she began to tingle, as the iron of her body began to glow yellow.
The despairing emperor looked up from his palace as he saw a new glow coming towards him across the land. A curious wave of his people were following it. He called his evil courtier to him: “Do you know what that is?”
The courtier shook his head, rubbed his palms together fretfully, and replied. “No, but I will politely keep it from disturbing us, never fear your majesty.” He hurried down the stairs just as Iron I arrived, and smiled a thin-lipped smile at her. “Greetings, oh great heroine. The emperor cannot see you now, but you are welcome to make yourself at home in his guest chambers until he has some free time,” he simpered.
Iron I looked into the courtier’s mind. “Begone, slimy one.” She raised her sword, and he scuttled away in fright. She walked up to meet the emperor.
The emperor turned to her with a troubled look. “I sent a quiet, secret message to the dwarves, but you have arrived as if you were sent from the heavens. I hoped to get the shield back without my people knowing it’s missing.”
I spoke strongly. “Is that what things have come to? Emperor, you should have proudly displayed the shield so all could see, not hidden it away as an ancient relic. You have forgotten its meaning, your head is bowed low, and you choose servants who mean you and me evil. Indeed I have come from the earth, but my soul is an angel’s, and I see into the hearts of humans.”
The emperor cursed. “Pah! Who believes in angels any more?”
Iron I carried on, “Perhaps you should start. I pledge to bring back the shield and defend the peace, or have my body shattered in the process.”
Far from the palace, the rumbles that had been heard at sea had shown their source. A great sea-giant had risen, long forgotten by the people near the shore. When the shield was made he had lost his strength and been bound in chains under the ocean. Now he rose up and the rusty iron chains shattered from his strength. Iron I left the palace and came thundering across the land to meet the giant. Volcanic ash was rising from the north and a great cloud was beginning to cover the sun, but I’s yellow glow was shining brighter and ever brighter. Though she only stood as tall as a human woman, her glow was much bigger than the giant. In a powerful bellow, she called out to him: “Creature of the sea, stay there or you will have me to face.”
The sea giant looked at her defiantly. Slowly and dripping he rose out of the sea, covered in a crust of barnacles and seaweed, and as he came out Iron I lifted her mighty sword. The rusty iron chains the giant had broken flew up and clung to the sword – for it was a powerful magnet, and she swung them around, creating a terrible whip that began to clatter against the giant. The giant held his head in his hands in horror and turned to flee, and as he swam out to sea there was a mighty rumble. The great ocean goddess had risen to take him back.
Iron I remained all this time on the land, and she now turned to face a cheering crowd of fishermen and sailors. Above the crowd she could see the cloud of ash spewing out from the volcano far to the north. She returned swiftly to the palace, to tell the emperor of her plans, but was met again by the evil courtier, who told her the emperor was not available. Iron I declared to him, “If his will is to sit on this hill, tell him he can just sit still!”
She wasted no more time on the emperor, but set off on a march through forests, valleys and farms, never stopping to rest. In the north the trolls no longer needed to march: they were instead sitting on rocks, riding down molten hot rivers, laughing a deep laughter as villagers scattered in terror. Iron I soon arrived there, followed by a crowd of villagers.
She called out to the troll king on his floating rock, “Where is the shield of peace?”
The troll king laughed like an earthquake. “You’ll never get it back. It lies deep in the earth under this volcano.”
Iron I nodded. Then she began to wander onto the blazingly hot rocks, as the crowd gasped. Her yellow glow began to turn gold, and her feet began to turn orange from the heat. She battled her way up the hillside to the cone of the volcano. At last she reached the top, and dived deep down into the molten body of the volcano, dodging great bursts of eruptions. She felt the energy of the shield, although she could not see it, and she dived towards the energy field. At last she found it, and she dragged the shield up to the surface. As the shield reached the surface the volcano sighed and the fire in the earth began to calm down. Iron I coasted her way down the mountainside on the last rivers of lava.
As she reached the bottom, and the crowd of villagers below, she held up the shield of peace, which had been transformed by the fire. It now had a golden front, and a shiny black back.
The evil courtier had arrived on horseback to warn the trolls of Iron I’s power, but he was too late. Iron I caught him easily, and lifted him high with her iron sword. “You have endangered the whole empire with your treachery, and have brought war when there has always been peace. I hereby sentence you to death.” And she swiftly chopped off his head.
The trolls were beginning to feel the effects of the shield of peace, which was making them sleepy, and gradually they started looking more and more like rocks. Soon they just seemed to be still, silent rocks on the land. Iron I bid farewell to the farmers, and told them that the volcanic ash was actually a blessing from the earth. With its help their new crops would now grow tall and strong.
At last, she set off with the shield to the imperial city. News of her miraculous journey into the volcano preceded her, and the emperor at last wanted to heap praises and honours on her. Iron I refused. “It was not me that did it, but the power of heaven, and of the gods and angels working through me.”
She insisted that the shield should now be displayed for all to see. When it was placed in the central square of the town, it glowed with a yellow light that gradually shone through the thick volcanic fog everyone had felt. As it continued to glow, another glow was seen in the sky, for the sun was finally showing again as the volcanic cloud cleared. As a crowd gathered and cheered, Iron I felt a stirring at her back, and felt her angel’s wings beginning to push out anew from her iron body. With a smile she spoke to the crowd.
“Farewell, people of the empire. I will be watching you from the heavens, and though I may not be right here in the same way as I have been, I am still the guardian of peace in each person, each friendship, and the whole land. Like me, you have all come from heaven to the earth, and so like me you can all call yourselves ‘I’.”
If his will is to sit on this hill, tell him he can just sit still!
Giant lies but rises high, but his chains to the iron fly!
OCEAN ‘O’
In a far-off village by the sea, three boys were enjoying the ocean. They were diving to try and find the biggest pearl they could. One of the boys came up for breath, and he noticed a shoal of dolphins out at sea. His companions were still diving, and one came up with a beautiful, glistening oyster pearl. As the three were admiring it they did not notice the dolphins coming swiftly towards them, and before they knew it, one of the dolphins had knocked the pearl away, balanced it up on its nose, and disappeared under the water. Mysteriously, all the dolphins vanished as a pack at the same time, and headed out into the ocean. The boys were surprised, and decided to go back to ask one of the village elders what the dolphins were up to. They talked about it all the way up the beach, past the palm trees that lined the streets of the village, and the palm leaf huts that the people lived in, until they reached a small and dark hut at the far end of the village. There they went to speak with an old toothless grandmother, who had been in the village longer than anyone could remember. She spoke to them with a smile when they told her what had happened.
“Don’t you know about the great spirit of the ocean? There has been a faint rumble out at sea these last weeks, a call of “Oh…” It is the great spirit’s call to the world, and the dolphins know how to find her. Perhaps they have taken your pearl as a gift to her.”
The boys were excited to hear what the ocean’s call was all about, and they decided to set off on an adventure to find out more, and see if they could catch up with the dolphins. They ran down to the jetty and untied a boat, and began to sail out into the open sea with a little food and water and not much else. They eventually spied the dolphins, but the team of dolphins were leaping out of the water faster and faster it seemed. With a good wind they managed to keep up, but the dolphins kept ahead of them throughout the day.
On the second day they found the dolphins circling around them all the time, but they could not find out where the dolphins were going. On the third day the boys were getting a bit nervous that they might run out of food, but they determined to keep going. After the third night the dolphins suddenly vanished, leaving the boys all alone in the middle of the ocean.
For a while all was still, except for the low sound of “O” under the waves. Suddenly there was a mighty crash of water and up rose a breathtaking sight: Ocean O, the great goddess, appeared from beneath the waves, her lush long seaweed hair flowing seamlessly into the waves, glowing and green – just like the huge pearl she was clutching in her hands.
The boys gasped, and they were all ears as she began to speak in a delicate, watery voice that filled not just their ears but their whole bodies. “This is the pearl of wholeness. It was made by the empress of the oysters, in the heart of the great ocean that surrounds the world. While I hold it safe the people of the earth, who live alongside the shores, and the creatures of the ocean can feel safe. But a difficult time approaches. The seas are threatened by the black knight, a restless creature who would turn the waves black. He rides his black steed across the waves, alongside the white horses, and each time he rides he slays white horses and replaces them with blood-red ones. He wants to have the power to control the waves, and he cares nothing about the creatures living beneath them. As the waves turn red, the creatures under the sea can breathe less and less, and the shores above are poisoned. There are many waves on the ocean, but if he turns enough of them red, the white horses will all give up and the ocean will die. Things are really serious now: I must entrust the pearl to you good young souls while I give my healing breath to the ocean.” And with that, Ocean O handed the boys the extraordinary pearl, and spread herself wide on the sea so that her hair flowed everywhere; soon it was no longer hair but a great sea-green mass of kelp.
The boys decided to take the pearl back to the shore, for they could see the dolphins were swimming around them again and it was easy to follow their trail to a place of safety. However, once they took the pearl out of the nurturing, lapping waters, it began to dry out and harden. The boys spent the day fishing for food, and managed to catch four fish to eat. The fourth one was a strange red-black fish, a herring, and it started to speak in a thin, slimy voice as they brought it to land.
“Head to the south with the pearl. There you will find safety, for the white horses still rule the waves there.”
At first the boys were shocked; one of them picked up the strange fish and hurled it back into the ocean, for they were certainly not going to eat a fish that spoke. Soon they began to argue. One boy thought they should go home now; one thought they should follow the dolphins, and one wanted to go south like the fish said. Eventually they drew lots to decide where they should go, and they discovered they should head to the south. This was exactly what the black knight – who had sent the red herring – wanted. After two more nights the boys had got nowhere and were running out of food and water.
Ocean O meanwhile spent her time under the waves, breathing life back into the coral and kelp forests, where octopuses and sharks were swimming. They had been getting weaker and weaker from the black waves, but now they felt stronger again.
On the third day the boys began to bicker amongst themselves, complaining about going the wrong way. They began to fight and scratch, and soon they were throwing the pearl of wholeness at each other. It was shiny and hard by now, and when one of the boys dropped it – it cracked into three pieces.
In an instant the black knight appeared, foaming and wild on his strong black stallion. He cast a net over the boys and the pearl, and they found themselves dragged away from the boat and off to his island lair. Everywhere they saw red horses standing guard. Everywhere they smelt fish rotting and flies buzzing. The shore was steaming with a poisonous smoke, and in the middle of the island was a pitch black castle. They were kept in the net and pulled helplessly onwards, feeling sick, angry and foolish.
Ocean O was busy spreading herself around the ocean to bring breath back to the deeps, but as she looked up she suddenly realized she was too late, for the water above was turning purple. She quickly knew that the pearl of wholeness had broken. Everywhere the ocean began to whirl and waves began to move in strange directions. People standing on the shore found themselves pulled out to sea by unexpected strong currents, and the waves gouged great new caves into the cliffs. The black knight and his army were causing chaos everywhere, for as the wild waves crashed on the shores they left poisons behind. Ocean O thought quickly: she began to head to the centre of the ocean, which was the realm of the oysters.
By the time she reached it the only oyster left was the mighty old empress, for all the other oysters had been swept up around the world by the wild waves. The reef where she made her palace was now barren and had lost all its colour, to become a dead grey. The empress spoke painfully: “The pearl of wholeness is broken. All is lost.”
Ocean O replied gently. “Do not worry. The pearl’s time to crack had come. We will make a new one.” And just as she finished speaking, a sound of dolphins calling was heard on all sides. The dolphins came in their thousands, bringing millions of pearls that they had been gathering for weeks from all over the ocean. Ocean O brought them all together and shaped them into a huge new pearl, bigger and more gleaming than the old one. She began to glide with it through the water, and as she did so the pearl began to shine more and more powerfully. The creatures of the ocean began to follow in her wake as she circled through the ocean, until a sweeping line of sharks, fish, jellyfish, stingrays, and all manner of ocean animals was swimming behind her, while the octopuses swam around her as her special servants.
The black knight felt what was happening below, and tried to lead a charge of the waves towards the new pearl. However, the waves were no longer so wild, so ready to crash in all directions. In the end he called to his red horses to carry on circling the ocean, and he headed back to his black castle in a fury.
From the castle the black knight barked out orders to his soldiers. “Take those boys out to sea. They must be made to walk the plank off the old sailing ship. They will be a worthy sacrifice to the ocean. When they die my power will be renewed further, and the sharks will join my ranks too when they feast on them.” He watched as the terrified boys were led out to the ship, and to the edge of the plank. One by one they tumbled into the water, and the black knight smiled as he saw them sink, close to the sharks who were following Ocean O.
Ocean O then arrived at the island, and made a gigantic circle around it with her arms. As the creatures carried on flowing round her ocean path, she balanced the new pearl on her head, while waves washed constantly through her hair. She spoke to the black knight. “My job is to protect the ocean and to take back what belongs to it. I will do my duty.” With that, she caused a wave to flood in to the island from all sides at once. The island was swamped by the great wave, and the knight saw his castle collapse.
He turned with crazed eyes to speak again. “You cannot defeat me, Ocean O. Even if all my red horses are turned white again, our battle will go on.”
“Maybe, but there are many adventurers on the ocean, and I protect them and make a space for their adventures. You and I know that a human may solve your secret, may gain the right to know how your end may come.”
The knight laughed heartily. “Never!” And he set off on his horse for the edge of the ocean, once more.
But Ocean O knew what he did not. The boys had taken with them a piece each of the pearl of wholeness, for a final piece of good luck as they tumbled off the plank. They found, to their great relief and shock, that the pearl helped them to breathe under water. As they sank down they felt strange currents guiding them up again, and soon they heard the familiar voice of Ocean O, as they reached the surface. “You have suffered much for your actions, dear children. You now have a choice. You can go home, or you can try to make amends for what you did in breaking the pearl.”
The boys looked at each other sheepishly. They thought about the chaos they seemed to have brought to the ocean. And then, one by one, they told Ocean O that they would like to try and make amends.
She smiled. “I can see that you are ready now to know more. Know then, that the black knight is the spirit of a great warrior. He had sailed far across the sea to battle on the ship you just walked off. He was attacked from behind, and his human head was cut off, and since then his spirit head has been out of control. If you can find his human head he will rest in peace and leave the ocean.”
The boys had many questions now, and Ocean O quietened them with her hands. “There is a mighty sea-giant sleeping far from here. It was he that attacked the black knight, and he kept his head as a trophy. Now he lies deeply asleep, using the knight’s head as a weighty pillow. I will look after the new pearl of wholeness, and you may keep the three pieces that have helped you so far. If you can swap them for the head you may be able to get it away without waking him. If he moves he will almost certainly kill you. To find the giant you must again choose which way to go, and this time, choose wisely!”
As Ocean O left, the boys realized the dolphins were circling them again, and had brought them their boat. This time they were united: they chose to follow the dolphins, riding far out to sea until the dolphins stopped suddenly.
The boys realized they were above a deep underwater cave. Using their three pieces of pearl they dived down to it, and as they went in a monstrous sight met them. The sea-giant was sleeping, his belly rising and falling with the waves, covered in small sea-creatures who had made their homes on him. His head was resting on a box with the knight’s head in it. They swam carefully towards it, and began to tease the box out from underneath him. Before the giant’s head could roll they pushed in the first piece of pearl instead. The giant snored loudly, and turned over. The boys stepped back for a moment; then came in to try and place the second piece. This time they were a little clumsier and the giant moved his hand in his sleep, rocking back again, but fortunately without opening his eyes.
Finally the youngest boy tried to put his piece of pearl in as the other boys grabbed the box out and swam out of the cave. The giant turned with a furious roar and grabbed the youngest boy with his arm. Things were desperate: they were far under water and could no longer breathe without their pieces of pearl. The older two turned to face each other, and then realized there was no way they could leave without their friend. They had no idea how to face the giant, but just as they turned to come back to him, a strange current was sent right into the cave from Ocean O. It swept up the giant’s nose and tickled him into an almighty sneeze. As he sneezed, his hand opened, and the three boys found themselves swept out of the cave and back up to their boat and safety. It was their second chance to look after something precious on the ship.
They could see that the knight was busy on the horizon, turning the waves red again. The boys turned to Ocean O once more. “How will we ever catch the knight?”
O spoke softly. “Wait in the stillness at the centre of the ocean. He will not stop, but I will guide him there.”
They sailed to the still point, and there they saw the knight charging across the ocean with Ocean O swirling behind him. As he approached they opened the box with his head in, and before his spirit could stop his arms, the furious knight had taken the head out and put it on to his body. He let out a terrible howl, and for a moment the red horses were churning the ocean everywhere. Then there was calm.
The knight lifted the vizor of his head armour. “Thank you for ending this curse,” he said simply to the boys. From nowhere appeared singing angels from the heavens, who lifted him up and away, while Ocean O hummed along with them from deep in the waves. She appeared once more.
“Is the ocean safe again?” the boys asked her.
“Yes, indeed, but the ocean is always changing. The pearl of wholeness is a mirror of changing mother moon in the sky.” She smiled at them, and lifted in her hands some shining pearls. “The oysters have returned to the middle of the ocean, and they have been busy. These are gifts to you for your bravery.” As they held the beautiful great pearls, the boys knew that their great adventure was coming to an end.
They rode home again on their boat, helped by the dolphins to get back safely. On their return, their village crowded round them, and when they saw the size of the pearls they had brought, the other villages in their tribe also arrived. The boys’ amazing story quickly spread, and they were soon chosen as co-rulers of the pearl-catchers’ tribe. If ever they disagreed, they never again threw punches: they called for their friends the dolphins to come and show them the right way to choose, and for the rest of their lives they trusted in Ocean O’s powerful protection.
Over the ocean the rolling waves know, only the brave roam away from their homes.
Boys feel sorry to dolphins and octopuses soft, but soon they stop the knight with the giant’s box.
UNIVERSE ‘U’
The stars in the galaxy were being infected by a terrible disease. Everywhere they were becoming weaker, and unable to shine their light as far as was needed. Moreover, they were beginning to lose control of the movements of planets and meteors around the galaxy. A great council was called, to which old stars came from all over the Milky Way.
“What are we to do? We cannot take a rest, everybody that lives on our planets needs our light,” said one old star.
“Well, who is going to look after us? We are also suffering,” said another weakly.
“There is one being who might help,” croaked the oldest star of all. “This being, Universe U, is able to take any form it chooses, male or female. Universe U’s chosen task is to hold those planets and stars who are in pain, so they can heal.”
“Yes, yes,” said one star tersely. “But how can Universe U hold a whole galaxy of stars in pain! We are desperate!”
“Who knows how strong its power is?” replied the oldest star.
Other stars began to chorus. “Where is Universe U?”
“Let’s call and find out!”
All the stars in the galaxy began to call out together, directed by the oldest star. “U, with this tune we call you to duty for the Universe.”
The chorus echoed out and could be heard for some time. When there was at last silence again, an unfathomably deep voice responded through the universe. “Who calls my name?”
The stars replied: “The stars of the Milky Way are suffering with disease, we lack strength to shine our lights on the planets and the creatures we watch over. We fear a calamity if you cannot help.”
The deep voice responded: “I’ve heard of this disease in another distant place. I am powerful, but to hold and heal a galaxy suffering like this there is only one cure. I must gain the protection of nine drops of rainwater, which has fallen in the earth’s coldest desert and landed on a blue flower there. If I can drink the water I would be able to lift and hold the huge crystal star at the centre of the galaxy, until it glows brightly again and heals the rest of you.”
Universe U then flew across the dark skies, shimmering in a deep blue glow. As U approached the Milky Way, the sun spoke up. “For a being of your size to go to the earth would be foolish. You must shrink and disguise yourself.” The sun gave U the cloak of humility, and the walking stick of the ages which would make U’s steps human size.
U took one step from the sun and reached the moon. “I watch the earth all the time. I see that people there are often scared and worried. Perhaps they need your help as much as the stars do.” She gave Universe U some sparkling moon dust to bring laughter, and a flute to stir people’s hearts.
With one more step Universe U found himself – for U was disguised as a man – splashing into a lake. Wearing his cloak and stick he came out of the lake, and sat down to play the flute. It wasn’t long before an old shepherd came to join this strange old man, playing music. “Music makes me sad,” said the shepherd, “it reminds me of when I was a boy.”
U turned to the shepherd in sympathy. “Why does your boyhood make you feel sad?”
“I loved a girl then with all my heart, but she sailed away to another country, and I have lived alone all my life since.” Universe U felt how sad the shepherd was, and touched his healing hands to the shepherd’s heart, and put a caring arm around him. He was so used to holding planets, that holding a mere man was easy for him. The man found himself crying again and again, in great surprise, for he had not cried in years.
When the shepherd’s tears subsided, U spoke again. “Come with me, I am travelling to the coldest desert to find a special blue flower, and I could do with a companion. I will play music for you and we will find some happiness.” The shepherd was worried about taking his sheep in the desert, but he was so eager to hear the music again that he agreed to follow Universe U as far as he was able.
Together they marched off through valleys, past great lakes and rivers to drier and drier countryside, where the wind got colder and colder. Along the way the two men talked of many things, but at last the shepherd told U all about his fears for the skies. “Something strange is happening in the heavens. Most of the stars are shining more weakly than usual, but there is a star that is shining more brightly each night. Many of the elders are saying it is a comet which has lost its course, and that it will crash into the earth.” Universe U was being reminded that there was more to his journey than simply finding an impossible flower, and he looked up at the angry comet that seemed to be furiously aiming for the earth.
People everywhere were beginning to panic, for the comet was getting bigger and closer so that all of them knew about it, but nobody knew what to do. The companions could sense this in the villages they passed, and it made the two of them quietly examine their own thoughts. Finally Universe U and the shepherd reached the last village on the edge of the desert. The countryside was freezing and dry, the trees had shrunk to shrubs and beyond there was only rock. The two companions walked into the village, where all the villagers could talk about was the comet. But Universe U had another task first.
His companion was so enjoying his journey that he found another shepherd in the village who agreed to look after his sheep; and he decided to follow U into the heart of the desert. First they arranged a safe way to enter the desert, by joining some traders who were off to buy silk from the other side. The party all set off, riding camels together. The traders said they knew where there was an oasis, and the camels were led into a valley, from where they could hear the sound of running water far below. From the heights they could just make out some night lights being lit, as the sun set, and see a tiny stream.
As the convoy headed down, they were suddenly attacked by bandits who lay hidden in the rocks. The bandits stared at them with red faces, and angrily rushed to steal their belongings; but as they did so Universe U threw moon dust at them, and suddenly their faces began to collapse helplessly into laughter. The laughter was so loud that it made the bandits tumble down into the stream, and at that, they began to laugh even more, pointing at each other with great hoots of joy. When they finally managed to catch their breath, they turned merrily to face Universe U.
The chief bandit, catching his sides between chuckles, called out his thanks for lifting years of worry from his shoulders. “I haven’t had a really good belly laugh for years, and I’ve just remembered something miraculous that I had completely forgotten!” The chief had had an idea for a plot of land that all the bandits could farm together, which nobody was using. He knew where it lay, and all the bandits soon headed off with him, still giggling away with each other, delighted at the thought of growing gigantic vegetables and baking home-grown bread.
As U and the shepherd reached the oasis with the traders, he asked people where he could find somewhere that rain fell and flowers grew. The inhabitants of the oasis made funny faces at each other and started tapping fingers onto their heads. “Rain in the desert? Ha ha! What crazy people you must be!” So Universe U took his flute out and began to play, and as he did so, the people at the oasis found their heads growing full of amazing dreams of success. He sat at the oasis, and those people who were still in their houses came outside to listen to the flute. Soon they were not just listening, they were dancing, and the more they danced, the louder they sang along, and the louder they sang along – the more clouds began to form in the sky. At last there was an unheard of sound: the sound of rain beginning to fall.
It fell for three days while Universe U played his flute, and at last the shepherd began to forget all his sorrows. On the first day a small shoot appeared in the centre of the circle where they had been dancing. On the second day a leaf appeared, and on the third day a tiny blue flower appeared. As the rain stopped, U bent down and drank nine drops of water, and with each drop he felt stronger and stronger. The grateful villagers at the oasis gave him a horse, and the blacksmith gave him U-shaped shoes for it, and at last he set off from the desert. But before he left he pulled the shepherd up with him. “You have helped me reach my destination here. But there is still somewhere that you need to go.”
They rode swiftly through the desert to the other side, where there was a beautiful garden tended by many women, looked after by an ancient woman. As they arrived she turned to see who was the grand rider – and who was riding alongside him. Although the years had passed and aged them both, she recognised his eyes: it was the boy she had had to leave as a child. The two of them embraced with tears of joy and hearts full of laughter, and Universe U said a happy farewell to them, leaving them to catch up on each other’s stories. As he went out of the garden he swapped his cloak around and changed his form.
Universe U returned to the garden as a young woman. She spoke confidently to the women working there, and discovered that there was a girl there who had sought shelter with them, and who never let any of the women hug her, and never smiled. Universe U thought for a while. “You grow many wonderful vegetables here: cauliflowers, spinach, tomatoes, beetroots, carrots, potatoes, turnips, pumpkins. Which root vegetables are you proudest of?”
The women answered together with ease. “Our beetroots make the most delicious sweet juice!”
“Give me your crop of beetroot. I know how to stop the comet,” she said, with such a determination on her face that the women quickly set to work to fetch their harvest into the juicing room. They brought the beets in, and Universe U said, “Now stamp on them as if they were grapes.” She began to play the flute, while the women stamped. Of course the beets were so hard that they should never have been able to crush the juice out with their feet, but they worked and worked and, amazingly, the flute helped them to crush the beetroots at last.
Thick purple juice began to pour across the floor, and as it did so, the child who would not smile was called into the room. Universe U sprinkled moon dust onto her as she came in, and she was so surprised at the sight of people juicing beetroot with their feet that she began to squeal with delight. “Why aren’t you chopping the beets like normal?” she asked between bouts of laughter.
“This is more fun!” called the women. And the girl reached out to hug the funny women that she lived with. Meanwhile, Universe U began to collect the beet juice in a big bucket.
There was plenty left over to drink, and Universe U now left them all to dance and sing, while the girl played her flute, and U rode off on her horse. With the help of a little juice to drink the horse leapt so high into the sky that U was able to jump up into the heavens, and with one step she appeared once more as her gigantic true self, right into the path of a very cross comet. U spoke sternly. “Why are you coming here to the earth? This is not the path you should be on!”
The comet replied angrily, “The earth must get out of my way, and so must you. Move aside!!” But instead, Universe U spoke of the juice it held. “This juice comes from under the soil of the earth, it has been loved and looked after by the earth’s people and their hard work. This is an offering to you from the earth, if you will only move in another direction.” And before waiting for a reply, Universe U hurtled the bucket of juice over the fiery earth, and as it poured, the comet started to feel like dancing off its course, and felt a strong wish to hear the rhythms of the wider universe.
If the comet had had feet it would have been jiggling them in all directions. “Universe U, I accept the earth’s gift,” sang the comet lightly, giggling ridiculously in spite of all its best efforts to be angry and frightening. And so it danced away from the earth, while a great cheer went up from the people watching below. One small ray of fire dropped from the comet to the earth, and on its way down it became a beautiful, blooming, very blue rose, which landed in the garden on the edge of the desert.
Strengthened by the raindrop drink, Universe U stepped towards the crystal star at the centre of the Milky Way. As it reached the star, U’s arms reached up high and held the enormous star. As Universe U held the star it began to burn brighter, sending healing rays throughout the galaxy. The stars began at last to turn again in their regular ways, and called out heartfelt thanks to U.
But Universe U told the stars: “Thank the people of the earth, many of whom have chosen a difficult life. It is thanks to their dancing that rain came to the desert, and the flower grew that has saved the galaxy.”
With this tune we call you to duty for the Universe.
Under the sun but soon thunder will come, rain will run , so watch in wonder!
SANDY SNAKE AND PROUD PEACOCK
In the heart of the juicy jungle seven eggs hatched. Inside each one was a baby snake. The snakes grew up living around their favourite tree, which was covered in creepers and vines. They could hide themselves because they looked like creepers, and so they could catch unsuspecting beetles and mice. However, the last of the snakes who had hatched they all called Sandy, and she was smaller than the others and not as good at catching food. They teased her, because her shiny, sandy skin was always seen by the creatures she was trying to catch.
One day the family of snakes heard a message that was travelling across the jungle. The tiger king of the jungle was in a terrible state, because the prince and heir to the throne had got lost. The message travelled from tree to tree, with the added news that anyone who helped find the prince would be held in great honour.
That morning the seven snakes crossed the path of the wily cobra, who spoke in a gruff hiss. “The prince has been taken by the king python, who is a powerful wizard. By capturing the prince he has been able to curse the birds of the jungle: they will start to lose their feathers, day by day, unless the prince is rescued. The python is planning on eating the prince for supper as his birthday feast. There is only one thing he fears: there is a legend that says that a creature with a thousand eyes will come and eat him up one day.”
The seven snakes laughed at this idea. “Everybody knows there is no creature with a thousand eyes!”
The cobra just smiled, wiggling her forked tongue. “Look over the other side of that hill and you will see just such a creature.”
The six older snakes decided that the cobra was trying to play a joke on them. “Thanks for the suggestion, dear cobra, but some other day perhaps. We’ll make some other plan to rescue the prince.” They haughtily turned, pleased that they’d seen through the cobra’s trick.
But Sandy Snake had stayed quiet. She decided to take the cobra’s advice, and she slithered her way to the top of the hill. There she saw a large blue bird with a tiny crown on top of its head, but no creature with a thousand eyes. All of a sudden the bird – which was actually a very proud peacock – lifted its tail feathers into the air and displayed hundreds of eyes – maybe even a thousand!
Sandy Snake wasted no time in going to speak to the Proud Peacock, and asking him if he would consider coming to give the python a real fright. The peacock responded fussily, preening his feathers the whole time. “Oh, goodness me, I haven’t got time for that kind of thing, little snake. I’m far too busy strutting around in my glade and looking beautiful. You’ll have to find someone else to do it for you.”
Sandy kept on asking, and eventually the peacock put down his feathers, and looked her in the eye. “You know what, there is something you could get for me. I have always wanted to get the silver ladle for my kitchen. I once saw it and thought how beautiful it would look with all my other kitchen things. Maybe I’d even think about going to the python if you could find that for me.”
“Where would I find the silver ladle, oh peacock? I’ve never seen it, and I’ve never heard any of the jungle creatures talking about it before you!” said Sandy.
“Oh no! It’s not in the jungle at all,” replied the Peacock. “It is kept in the desert, by a one-eyed hermit. I flew there once and saw it. If you’d only go and find it for me, I’m sure I’d find time to frighten the pythons for you.”
Sandy Snake was aghast. “Go to the desert! I’d never be able to reach the desert, let alone find the ladle you’re looking for!”
The Peacock tut-tutted. “It seems I might have a little time free after all. I shall fly you to the edge of the desert, but we must go soon. Some friends of mine are coming to visit soon and I need to show them how beautiful I am.”
While the peacock prepared himself for take-off, the bewildered little snake turned around to a familiar low hiss. The cobra was there. “You are off into the desert little snake, and you must be careful. You are lucky: your sandy skin will keep you hidden, but you must stick to the ridges of the desert dunes to be safe. The one-eyed hermit lives in rocks that peek out of the dunes and give him shade from the sun. He won’t come out in the sunlight, and he won’t see you who can easily be out in the desert heat. You must wait above the entrance to his cave until the sun begins to set. The Proud Peacock has asked you for the silver ladle, but you must only take the bronze one. Moreover, you must be out again before sunset or the hermit will capture you. Stay above the rocks for the night, and when the one-eyed hermit starts to look for his ladle, tell him that the desert fox took it. When the hermit is sleeping again, and day has begun, return the way you came, with the bronze ladle.”
The proud peacock had been busy checking that he looked respectable enough for the journey, and fluffing up his feathers, so he heard none of this snaky conversation. But at last he was ready. He lifted the little sandy snake onto his back, and set off with his wonderful wings for the place where the jungle met the desert. There he bade the snake farewell, and said he would meet her again the next day.
The Sandy Snake followed all the cobra’s good advice. She made her way across the dune ridges until she spied the hermit’s rocks. As the sun began to set, the Sandy Snake crept in unseen to the one-eyed hermit’s kitchen and saw the ladles hanging on the wall. The silver one looked beautiful, but the snake remembered the cobra’s advice and took the bronze one instead.
Soon after the hermit came in, his one good eye adjusting to the dimness, his face wrinkled from the desert heat, his forehead sweating. He sniffed the air, for he had a sense that something was amiss. Then he looked suspiciously around the kitchen and found he was missing a ladle. In a rage he ran to the entrance to his simple home. As he stood trying to stare out into the night, Sandy Snake spoke to him from her rocky hiding place, mustering up her most mysterious voice. “Dear hermit, I speak to you as one of the desert spirits. I saw the desert fox coming to your home, and I saw him leave too, taking with him a precious bronze ladle.” The hermit glanced up, but could not see who was speaking to him. He rushed inside and fetched a rope. Then he headed out into the night.
In the morning the hermit returned, looking dejected, still carrying the rope. Sandy Snake took her chance to slide out from her rocks and into the day, dragging the bronze ladle behind her with her tail. She was feeling thirsty and longing for the jungle, and on either side she seemed to see trees and pools, and heard frogs calling her to come down from the ridges. But she remembered the cobra’s warning, and kept safely to the path. As she got to the edge of the jungle again the peacock was waiting for her.
He spoke in a very haughty voice. “This is the wrong ladle. Thank you for your effort, but I simply can’t see my way to going and fighting the python today.” Still, the Peacock took Sandy all the way back to his kitchen, where he had prepared some soup especially for using his new ladle. He dished up two portions of soup with the bronze ladle, and then he looked back at the pot. Something strange had happened. The soup pot was just as full as before. They both gobbled up their soup, and then the Peacock dished up two more portions just to see what would happen. The soup pot was still full!
The peacock gave a smile. “Well, well, perhaps I will still find time to go to the python. But what would really persuade me is if I could just get hold of the golden knife the hermit keeps. I have always thought it would really look wonderful in here. Now that you have eaten, let me fly you back to the edge of the desert, and I will come and fetch you tomorrow. Good luck!”
And before Sandy Snake could get a word in edgeways she was being flown to the place where the desert met the jungle, and the peacock was off again to get on with his busy day of looking beautiful. As soon as he had gone the cobra appeared with a low hiss. “You know the way. Don’t forget to keep to the ridges, and fetch the knife before the sun has completely set. Only be sure not to get the golden knife, but only the silver one.” Sandy Snake felt like complaining about this, but the cobra stared at her with a warning that made her feel cold.
She set off once more along the ridge to the one-eyed hermit’s rocks, and as the sun began to set she crept inside. There in the kitchen was the glorious golden knife, and next to it the shining silver one. She thought about which one to choose, but at last she took the silver one in her tail and slid out to hide above the rocks. Soon after the hermit came in, his one good eye adjusting to the dimness, his face wrinkled from the desert heat, his forehead sweating. He sniffed the air, for he had a sense once more that something was amiss. Then he looked suspiciously around the kitchen and found he was missing a knife. In a rage he ran to the entrance.
As he stood trying to stare out into the night, Sandy Snake spoke to him from her rocky hiding place, mustering up her most mysterious voice. “The desert spirit of these rocks speaks to you again, oh hermit. The wily desert fox came this way when you were not looking and he ran off with your silver knife.” The hermit looked dejected and tired at the very thought of looking for the fox again, but once more he set off with a rope. Once more Sandy Snake waited for the morning light, and then set off for home along the ridges, dragging the knife behind her. Once more she saw glorious trees and pools, and heard croaking frogs calling her down, but she remembered the cobra’s words and stayed on the path along the dune ridges to safety.
The Peacock met her haughtily once more. “Thank you, but this knife is silver. I will fly you back to my kitchen, but my day is still looking much too busy to go and frighten the python.” And with that they took off. In the Peacock’s kitchen he took a great loaf of bread, ready for the occasion, and began to slice it with the silver knife. Imagine his surprise when, instead of a slice of bread, he found the knife had cut him a slice of gold! The second slice also turned to gold, and the third. “Hm. Dear Snake, this is indeed a marvellous knife, so I will give you another chance to earn yourself a boon from most marvellous me. If you would only fetch me the hermit’s three golden feathers, truly I would feel like an emperor with them, and would be sure to go to the pythons.”
After some more everlasting soup, the snake was ready for a final journey. She felt sure the Peacock would have to agree to rescue the tiger prince of the jungle this time. She spoke once more to the cobra at the edge of the jungle. “Do not worry, little Sandy Snake. You will be rewarded as you wish, but you must not take the three golden feathers. Only take the simple sparrow feather that the hermit keeps.”
Sandy Snake could not see how the Peacock could possibly be happy with a sparrow feather. As the sun began to set, she crept in to the one-eyed hermit’s house and saw the three golden feathers, shining in all their glory. And as she stared at the feathers, she noticed that each one had a tiny drop of blood at the bottom. And as she stared more and more at the beautiful golden feathers, too much time had passed. The sun had set.
The hermit had been watching the sunset, stuck in his own sad thoughts. Now the hermit came in, his one good eye adjusting to the dimness, his face wrinkled from the desert heat, his forehead sweating. He sniffed the air, for he had a sense that something was amiss. Sandy Snake quickly hid. She realised she was now trapped inside with the hermit. The hermit went to one corner of the rock house and dragged out a forlorn looking creature: the desert fox, who had an arrow wound in his foot, and was tied up with a rope.
The desert fox spoke in a gravelly voice. “She who stole your ladle and knife is here!”
The hermit lifted his walking stick, and said sternly, “I am master of this house! At night, no-one may leave here. Come out from your place of hiding.”
Petrified, the little snake crept out, and found the stick pointing right at her hiding place. The one-eyed hermit charged at her with his stick, whipped her up into the air and spun the stick so that she wrapped around it. She yelled out, “All this I did for the sake of the jungle prince. The Proud Peacock promised to save him if I would take your knife, ladle, and your golden feathers.”
The hermit looked at her with his one good eye, paused, and nodded. He spoke calmly. “This may well be true. If it is so, the Peacock will try to rescue you. You have seven nights to live. If the Peacock has not come by that time, you will die.”
Meanwhile the Proud Peacock was taking a break from his endless strutting. He had noticed some of his feathers beginning to fall out, and although he had so many that it did not ruffle him too much, he decided to fortify himself with some everlasting soup. As he did so he heard a low hissing behind him. He turned in terror to see the cobra, and instantly flapped his great wings and flew up into a tree. “Help! Help! A snake! I’m being attacked!”
Nobody came. If the cobra was amused she didn’t show it. Instead she lifted her mighty head and sang to the Peacock.
“The Sandy Snake is in danger now
Oh the apple red and the lotus of the river
Brave Prince Peacock, think of those who served you well
Oh the apple red and the lotus of the river
Fetch the sparrow’s feather before seven nights are through”
The Peacock watched as the cobra slunk away into the bushes. He thought to himself, “I’ve never been brave in my life. I never really planned to go and see the python, I was even scared of this old cobra. And Sandy Snake has done so much for me already. Really, I must try and save her, if I’ve put her in danger.”
And so, for the first time ever, the Proud Peacock decided to be brave. He flew to the edge of the desert, without even taking very much time to preen his feathers first, and then out into the dunes to try and find the hermit’s house. It was terribly hot work, and the Peacock felt very thirsty. To the side of the dunes he suddenly saw a lovely, inviting pool, surrounded by trees, and frogs croaking around it, calling him to come and take a drink. He came to land, and walked down to the pool.
But the pool was a mirage, a mere trick of the desert. It disappeared as he came closer, and instead the Peacock found a whirling wind blowing around him. There, confused, alone, and in the middle of the sandstorm that whipped on all sides, he felt long sandy whiskers and suddenly found himself up against large sandy jaws. He was being attacked by a gigantic and very horrible sandman. The terrified Peacock quickly tried to lift his tail feathers, but as he lifted them the sandstorm grabbed at them and the Peacock felt the pain as his feathers were plucked out, one by one by one. Proud Peacock tried desperately to fly away, but with less and less of his feathers he could only jump and waddle. At last the strange sandman ran off cackling, clutching hundreds of the Peacock’s beloved feathers. When the peacock turned to look he saw he only had three feathers left.
He wandered off through the desert, and finally came to a desert melon bush, with one small melon growing under it. The poor peacock drank the melon juice, just as night fell. He felt exhausted and sad, sure he would never find the Sandy Snake now. As he finished drinking he collapsed, lost and needing to sleep.
It was the morning wind who woke him and spoke to him. “Follow me, Proud Peacock. I will lead you to the hermit’s house.”
The Peacock followed the blowing wind, as it swirled over the sand dunes, pleased to have any suggestions now; but the journey took the whole day. By the next night he had arrived, exhausted. The hermit had come out to watch the sunset, and saw the dishevelled peacock waddling his way across the dunes. The peacock had lost track of time, and in fact this was the seventh night since the snake had been captured. The one-eyed hermit stood at the door, and asked the approaching Peacock, “What is it that you seek?”
The Peacock looked into the hermit’s house. There hung the silver ladle, there lay the golden knife and the three golden feathers. He breathed deeply, and - a little reluctantly, in spite of all he had already been through - he asked for the sparrow’s feather. The one-eyed hermit nodded, and fetched it for the peacock.
“But I have a second question before I give this to you. You still have three beautiful feathers. Will you give them all for this feather?”
The peacock took one last forlorn look at his three remaining feathers, and then he nodded. “Yes, if that will help the Sandy Snake to be released.”
The one-eyed hermit quickly plucked the peacock’s last three feathers. He placed them on the golden feathers, and in an instant the blood had disappeared from them. The hermit blinked three times, for he could now see out of both eyes – the peacock’s feathers had cured his blindness. He turned again to the peacock.
“If I release the Sandy Snake now, will you tell her the truth about you and the python?”
The Peacock breathed deeply and nodded. As the Sandy Snake was brought before him, he admitted how he was proud but had always been a coward, and that he had never really intended to go anywhere near the great wizard of the jungle, but had just been getting the Snake to bring him lovely things. “Truly, dear Snake, I am sorry for the trouble I have brought you, from the bottom of my heart. And now, as you can see, I would just make the python laugh.” He sighed.
The hermit said, “There is a solution to all your problems. Blow three times on the sparrow feather and you will find it.” The Peacock looked up in surprise and took the hermit’s advice. As he blew on the sparrow feather he felt new feathers growing rapidly, and after two more blows he had grown all his feathers again, looking even more stunning than before.
The hermit spoke once more, his voice richer than before, his face relaxed. “I should tell you my story, dear creatures. I was a king once, and my daughter was a princess. She too was captured by the python, and I refused to look for her. I pretended that she had run away, for in truth I was too scared to look for her. Instead I spent all my money on making myself look more beautiful now that I’d lost my beloved daughter. At last I was riding my horse through the desert, when a sparrow came flying down and dropped one of its feathers into my eye. With that I was cursed: my servants lost sight of me and I could not escape from the desert. I have lived here for many years, and by realising your own folly, you have released me from my partial blindness and my exile. Now I will journey with you so that we may defeat the evil python together.”
So it was that the Peacock, the Sandy Snake, and the hermit made their way out of the desert and back to the jungle, and, more particularly, to the python’s palace, where his birthday feast was being prepared. As they arrived, the python stared at these uninvited guests for a second, but only for a second. For then the peacock turned and raised his tail feathers, and the python got such a fright that he fainted. For a huge python to faint takes a long time, for all of his long body gradually fell limp, but at last there was silence all around. Then the hermit spoke like a king to all the creatures gathered there. “The python has practised wicked magic for too long. All his victims have been strangled, and it is high time he tasted his own medicine.” He ordered a rope to be gathered, and hearing his voice the creatures rushed to find one, made from the tightest vines from the deepest depths of the jungle, and while the python still lay limp on the ground he was strangled with it.
The jungle’s tiger prince was then set free, with a mighty and smiling roar, for the death of the python had released in him an energy he had not known for days. The news spread quickly across the jungle, passed from tree to tree, so that the tiger king soon arrived. Amidst all the festivities at the wicked python’s death, he pronounced that the peacock should be given a real prince’s crown as reward. But Prince Peacock also spoke up and insisted that Sandy Snake be rewarded too. He took his moment on the stage to strut and preen and proudly tell the story of how proud he was – of his friend the little snake. Amidst great applause she was made a princess of the desert, where she could hide so successfully.
The old hermit king also found a great surprise waiting for him when the python was killed. The advice-giving cobra was actually his daughter, who had escaped from the python’s supper table but had not escaped being cursed and transformed into a snake when she left. With the python’s death she returned to her human form as a princess once more, and so everybody had reason to celebrate that day. After all this excitement the Proud Peacock and the Sandy Snake did indeed become firm friends, often meeting for a spot of everlasting soup, just where the jungle met the desert.
Sliding on sand see the snake so smooth, soon she’ll be safe so let’s celebrate!
Proud peacock proves more powerful than the python
JITTERY JELLYFISH AND THE QUIET QUEEN
Deep under the waves there is a coral reef where creatures of all kinds live – and the reef is famous throughout the ocean because of its orchestra. There are angelfish who play harps, there are stingrays playing the flute, the anemones have turned themselves into organ pipes, and of course the octopus is a fine pianist. The lobster plays the timpani drums, and the squid plays the trumpet.
Now amidst all these fine musicians was the jittery jellyfish. The jittery jellyfish was supposed to be in charge of the cymbal, but she always came in with a crash in the wrong part of the music. The crusty old crab who was the orchestra’s conductor called to her once after orchestra practise.
“You spend too much time jiggling about, and not enough time watching me for the right time to play!!” he shouted.
“But, sir, it feels right, sir,” jiggled the jellyfish.
“I have decided that there is only one instrument for you. That is the great brass horn of silence, kept on shore by the Quiet Queen. If you want to come back to the orchestra you must get that instrument to play. If not, then goodbye.” And with that the crusty crab turned to a small prawn and gave it the unexpected privilege of being the orchestra’s new cymbal player.
The tearful jellyfish headed off to the hole where the octopus lived. The octopus was busy playing his scales on the piano when the jittery jellyfish arrived. “Oh, please help, friend octopus! I must go to the Quiet Queen’s palace and fetch the horn of silence before the crab will let me play with the orchestra again, and you know how much I love the music we play!”
The octopus looked out in horror. “The Quiet Queen? That’s impossible for you to do! She is a human being who lives on the land!” He thought for a while. “But, you know, the horn of silence might be just what the orchestra needs. I’ve heard a rumour that whoever can make a sound on it will make everybody listen. The crusty crab doesn’t really expect you to play it, you know, he’s just giving you a silly task, but maybe you can surprise us all with it… sing a little for me, won’t you.”
The jellyfish began to sang a little ditty. “I love the sea and the creatures who live there, and I long to be, swimming with the tide...”
“Brilliant!” enthused the octopus. “Go there and ask the Quiet Queen if she wants a choir. That’ll be your way in, I’m sure. Anyway, I’ve got to go and practise again, jellyfish, good luck!” And with that he disappeared into his hole.
The jellyfish still felt rather despondent. How on earth would she be able to get to the Quiet Queen’s realm? She floated up towards the shore where more sunlight came in, and tried to think. The waves drifted her tentacles past thick strands of kelp, and then she heard the kelp speak in a boomy but whispering voice, breathing out with each ocean wave.
“We kelp see all, from the depths of the sea to the surface. The Quiet Queen hates noise but loves the sound of the ocean. We’ve seen her sitting on the shore often. You can’t miss her: apart from being very big, she always sits with an umbrella in front of her as she is permanently worried that it might rain. In her country it rained once when she was a child, and she didn’t like it at all. She hates getting wet, and is always surrounded by servants with fans who even lift and move her if the tide is coming in.”
The jittery jellyfish heard this, but was still none the wiser as to how to approach her. “But the tide is very dangerous for jellyfish! How can I sing for her without suffocating in the air on the shore?”
The kelp spoke again with the next wave. “There are rock pools close to where she sits. If you munch some of our leaves, it will make you much stronger when you get to her realm, and you may be able to get into the rock pools.”
“Where is the Quiet Queen’s realm?” asked the jellyfish.
“A thousand miles from here,” whispered the kelp.
The jellyfish almost fainted thinking about that. “But how do I get there?” she said. “I cannot travel so far!”
The kelp kept its silence, but at that moment Walter Whale the tuba player came past and the jellyfish was swept up and onto his back. “Dear Walter, can you take me to the Quiet Queen’s realm?” she asked in desperation, and told him the whole story. He thought it sounded like fun, and agreed to take her close, though not too close, for his great body might get trapped if the water was too shallow. Still, the jittery jellyfish had to hold her breath from time to time, for Walter loved to do his tricks, leaping right out into the sky, or turning and flipping his huge body; and she had to grip tight with her tentacles as he revolved around this way and that. He hummed a few low tunes as he swam across the ocean, and she asked him if he liked being in the orchestra.
“Well, it’s a great honour, of course, but I think there’s something missing from the music. Maybe the horn of silence is just what we’re looking for!”
At last they arrived close to the Quiet Queen’s realm. Walter Whale said his farewells, for he needed to get back for a concert. The jittery jellyfish started to eat some leaves of the kelp nearby, which was very, very chewy, but she knew she had to swallow it to stand any chance of making it to the rock pools. She felt all alone now, and was worried that a wave might sweep her onto shore and leave her to dry out. Just as she thought that, a great wave surged forwards and thrust her onto a dry rock in the hot sun. She felt she was short of breath, but she inched her way over the rock, and finally made it to the other side – and to the safety of a rock pool, just before she ran out of strength.
She relaxed into the pool, and heard the strange thin voices of sea snails around her. “Can you eat this?”
“I don’t know, it looks a bit too big for me. Oh, help!”
For the jellyfish gave the snails a frights by starting to sing, ““I love the sea and the creatures who live there...” One said, “Now we’re in for it! The Quiet Queen hates noise!” All the snails began to bury themselves under the sand, as the jellyfish started to sing again, with all her might.
On the shore, the Quiet Queen was sitting with her umbrella, just as the kelp had described. She heard the music and found herself tapping her toes and wiggling her crown, and she whispered to her servants to find out what on earth it was that was singing like that. The servants hurried away to the rock pool, and were amazed to find a jellyfish singing its heart out. “The Quiet Queen demands to know who it is that is singing like this,” they said in a very official tone.
“Ask her if she wants to start a choir,” replied the jellyfish, wondering if she was being crazy. The servants’ eyes nearly popped out of their heads as they heard this. They walked fearfully back to the Queen and repeated the jellyfish’s question.
The Quiet Queen gave no answer, but ordered that a fish bowl be brought for the jellyfish. The jittery jellyfish was brought before her, in the bowl.
“Your singing is the first thing to take my mind off my troubles in ages. I shall have to think about your idea for a choir. You will come back to the palace with me for now.” And she set off, with the servants scurrying along behind her.
Back at the palace, the Queen asked the jellyfish to start singing again, and as she did so, the Queen began to jiggle about, swirling her umbrella up into the air, and dancing. The jellyfish could see the horn of silence on the wall, and at the end of her song she asked the Quiet Queen all about it.
“My mother made me promise never to let anyone play on it, and she always taught me to whisper. My uncle, her brother, invented the horn of silence, but nobody could play it properly, they could only squeak horribly.” The Quiet Queen showed the jellyfish a photo of her mother, with ear muffs on. She realised that her mother’s ears must have been extremely sensitive to loud noise.
The queen and the jellyfish carried on talking, about life under water, and particularly about the orchestra. The queen said that she had always found water beautiful, but that her experience as a child had been terrifying. “I should so much like to hear the orchestra you speak of. Perhaps we could travel together to the coral reef.” She snapped her fingers and ordered her servants to begin work on making a royal yacht.
A magnificent boat was soon prepared for them, and although the queen was very nervous about being above the waves, they soon set sail together, but the jellyfish insisted that the horn of silence be brought. Then she gave the crew directions about how to reach her own coral reef.
However, as the boat reached the edge of the reef, a mighty wave came up out of nowhere and smashed against the side. The queen put her umbrella up in fright, but it was too late – the water soaked her to the skin. And as it did so, the queen began to laugh, great laughter that came up from her big belly, for she realised it could actually be fun to be soaked to the skin. More than that, she discovered what it was that had been so terrifying when she was a child; her legs had turned into a shimmering tail. The queen was a mermaid!
With a great dive she splashed off the side, for now she was no longer content to hear the orchestra from above. The jittery jellyfish, clutching at the horn of silence, led the queen down to the floor of the reef, where the crusty crab was conducting a long and serious piece, and the audience was yawning away. The jellyfish swam to the back of the orchestra, and for the first time, she tried to play the horn of silence. It made a loud honk, and everybody jumped, including the crab: and then a salmon piped up, “That reminds me of a duck I once saw when I was swimming up a stream.”
There was silence. But not for long, for the horn of silence was in fact a saxophone, and the jittery jellyfish soon found that her jittery tentacles were just right for playing it, and playing a new, jazzy kind of music. The crusty crab tried his best to call order, but as the jellyfish played, the octopus joined in, and the whale did too, and soon even the little prawn began clashing the cymbals in time with the jazzy jittery jellyfish. And the quiet queen danced happily to the jellyfish’s extraordinary music, while gradually the whole orchestra began following her tune and played merrily together. Even the old crab found his legs dancing in spite of himself, and he graciously asked the quiet queen to dance with him, and she was having such fun that she agreed.
But the queen had meanwhile spotted somebody much more to her liking. It was Walter Whale, who was much more to her liking and also much more to her size, and who joined in with the jellyfish’s jazz easily alongside his tricks (such as making great waves against the side of unsuspecting boats). Indeed, it was not long after that evening that Walter Whale became the new husband of the noisy, dancing, swimming, mermaid queen. And the jellyfish band, of course, played marvellous melodies at the wedding.
Jingle and jangle to the jazzy juice of the jellyfish jivers.
Quiet queen, a question for you - do you require a choir?
ROBIN REDBREAST
Robin Redbreast was busy in his tree one day, watching the ground for sweet new titbits to eat, when a great black crow flew down from the skies and landed on a neighbouring branch.
“Caw! Caw!” said the crow. “The birds of the forest are in danger, Robin Redbreast. A wicked wizard has decided to build his home here, and he will bring harm to any birds who remain here. You must fly away and find a new forest to make your home in.”
Robin Redbreast was surprised to hear this. “How do you know that this sorcerer will do us harm if we stay, O crow?” he asked.
The crow replied, “The eagle, who travels far across the land, told me. She saw this wizard before in his rocky castle way up in the Majestic Mountains. There he had used his power to trap birds from far and wide, hundreds and hundreds of them kept in cages in the turrets of his castle. And the strange thing, said the eagle, was that none of the birds made a sound. The wizard had used his magic to steal the songs of all the birds, to take their voices away. You know as well as I do, Robin Redbreast, that a bird cannot be free unless he can sing. The eagle was already leaving with her babies when I saw her, and if she is frightened, so must we all be.”
But Robin Redbreast was a brave little fellow who loved his tree and his forest. “Surely, O crow, there must be some way to defeat this wizard and save our homes?”
The crow lifted her wings in a shrug. “If there is, I do not know it, but maybe the owl can think of a way.” And with that she flew off to make ready for her journey.
Robin Redbreast flew to the home of the owl, who was very old and very sleepy. “Old Owl, can you help me? How can we defeat the wizard? There must be a way?”
The owl lifted one of her bushy eyebrows. “I am too ancient for such things, and besides, it is time for my afternoon nap. Be gone, Robin Redbreast.”
Robin Redbreast would not go, however, and reluctantly the owl opened her eyes again, sighed crossly, and spoke. “Only one thing can break the magic of the wizard: a white feather off the back of the Loolabird. But the Loolabird is an elusive creature. I have heard that she lives high up near the source of the Great Silver River, but I have never seen her. Now be off with you, young Robin Redbreast, and leave me to my slumber.”
Robin Redbreast needed no more instructions. He set off at once in the direction of the Great Silver River, and he sang his favourite song as he went:
“Birds of the air
Come sing with me
Come sing with joy
Come sing to be free.”
However, the journey took much longer than he expected, and by nightfall he needed to find a new branch on which to spend the night, and rest his wings.
While he was resting a drab little sparrow twittered her way up to him. The day before, Robin might have been happy to chatter with her, but today he puffed out his chest and spoke proudly. “Sparrow, please be quiet and let me rest. I am on an important mission for my forest. I am going to find the Loolabird.”
“Oh really!” twittered the sparrow. “And what would you be wanting with the Loolabird?”
Robin Redbreast sighed, in the same way he had watched the owl doing. “I’m going to take a white feather from her back and use it to defeat the wizard.” And he closed his eyes to rest.
“Well, then,” said the sparrow, “you’ll know that the Loolabird doesn’t give her feathers out to just anybody.” Robin Redbreast opened an eye. “Only the gift of a berry from the Lyleberry tree will persuade her to part with a feather. And I happen to know where to find the Lyleberry tree.” And she began to wash her wings, twittering away the whole time.
Robin Redbreast opened both eyes. “Oh, dear sparrow, forgive me my rudeness – will you show me the Lyleberry tree?”
The sparrow agreed and took Robin Redbreast to a magnificent tree full of delicious-looking purple berries. “Be careful, though,” she said. “These berries are enchanted and ordinary birds like you and me shouldn’t eat them.”
Robin Redbreast perched on a branch, took a berry in his beak and prepared to continue on his journey. But the berry made his mouth water, it smelled so delicious, and he thought surely eating just one couldn’t hurt. Besides which, he wasn’t an ordinary bird like the sparrow, he was a brave adventurer. So Robin bit on the berry and tasted the sweet, sweet juice trickling down his throat. And then, tired as he was already, he fell into a deep sleep – much, much deeper than he had planned.
When Robin awoke many days had passed and he realised he had been very foolish, and the sparrow was nowhere to be seen. Determinedly, Robin took another Lyleberry in his beak and set off again towards the Great Silver River. It was a long and difficult journey, and often Robin had to stop on a branch and rest awhile. What made it even more difficult was that all the time he could not eat or drink a thing, for fear of losing the Lyleberry, and yet the wonderful aroma of the Lyleberry kept wafting into his nose, so that he almost felt like swallowing it. At last, the shimmering waters of the Great Silver River came into view. Robin followed its course upstream, through the mists and the mountains, and finally through a cleft between two great jagged rocks. Beyond the cleft he found a miraculous sight: a beautiful valley, hidden and untouched full of rich and varied green trees – oaks and larches, birches and elms, ash trees and beeches; and, as he flew on with the river he finally saw a dazzling white light which could only be the Loolabird. Her feathers were purest white, and her eyes were blazing gold. Robin came to rest beside her and let the Lyleberry roll to the ground.
“Why, little Robin, you must have travelled far and in great need to bring me such a gift. I thank you, little Robin Redbreast,” sang the Loolabird. “And for bringing me such a marvellous berry I grant you a wish.”
“Dearest Loolabird, give me a white feather from your back,” pleaded Robin. She plucked a shining white feather from her back, and handed it to Robin who felt peaceful just holding it. As the Loolabird ate the Lyleberry a new one grew in its place.
Delighted, Robin now remembered his great thirst. He bent down and drank his fill from the fresh spring that gave birth to the Great Silver River. The cool water trickled down his throat, soothing him and preparing him for the return journey, for there was now no time to lose. So Robin set off back to his forest, singing his favourite song as he went:
“Birds of the air
Come sing with me
Come sing with joy
Come sing to be free.”
And along the way, as he sang, a chorus of birds heard his song and joined him in his flight. And among them was his old friend the sparrow, and all the birds sang in harmony with Robin Redbreast, a beautiful song that filled the air with wings and song.
All the birds, that is, until Robin came back to his forest home, where there was only deadly silence to greet him and his new friends; not a bird in sight, and certainly no beautiful singing. In the darkness in the heart of the forest stood an ugly grey tower, the new fortress of the terrible wizard. It rose up jagged and threatening, seeming to spread fear just by being there. Nobody felt like singing any more. Robin came to rest on a branch near the tower, and as the other birds settled around him, waiting for his next move, he realised he would now have to be really brave. He lifted his head high, clutched the dazzling white feather firmly between his feet, and flew towards the tower.
He flew in, tiny as he was, through the imposing great gates of the tower, which lay open. Robin realised as he came through that this was because the wizard was expecting him, and indeed expecting all the friendly birds who were following behind him. Inside the tower were hundreds and hundreds of silent birds kept in tiny cages, and in the centre of a great courtyard built of hard square stones stood the wicked wizard in his flowing robes. The wizard lifted one arm and pointed a wand, gnarled and cracked and full of the evil spells it had cast over the years. But as Robin Redbreast flew towards the wizard carrying the dazzling white feather, it made the wicked wizard lift the wand out of the way to cover his eyes, blinded to the light, and so Robin drew strength and flew faster and faster right up to him. He touched the wizard’s face with the Loolabird’s feather, and there was a flash of bright green light.
In an instant the wizard had been turned into a small worm on the floor, whereupon a little blackbird who had been following Robin on his return journey flew down and ate him. And suddenly the hundreds of birds in the tower burst into song, their cages burst open with the sounds and they all flew out to join Robin Redbreast. Together they filled the forest with a new, beautiful singing, so that soon the very trees echoed with his favourite song which he had sung on his brave adventurer’s journey:
“Birds of the air
Come sing with me
Come sing with joy
Come sing to be free.”
And the little sparrow sang it loudly too, until she returned to her home to tell all her friends about the adventure, over and over and over again.
Right above the rippling river, robin races o’er the mountain ranges.
FARMER FEATHER AND THE NAUGHTY NYMPH
Once there was a little nymph who lived in a big jungle. She hid in the trees and loved to watch the passersby. Sometimes she played little tricks on them, blowing spiders’ webs down on the heads of finely dressed ladies or tickling people from behind with flower stalks. Still, the day came when she felt a little bored by her life. She sat on top of a flower, hugging her knees, waiting for somebody to come past. The only person who had come past that day was the Proud Peacock, and he had seen her tricks too many times to be amused. “Naughty Nymph, you should find something more important to do,” he said, importantly.
For a second the nymph thought. Then she bombed into the nearby river, splashing the peacock’s beautiful feathers, and she giggled uncontrollably. The peacock was most unamused.
However, the nymph soon stopped giggling as she found herself being pulled unexpectedly downstream. The current today seemed surprisingly strong, and she was soon far from her home tree. As she struggled to stay afloat, she met a rainbow-coloured fish swimming the other way, and asked it if it knew why the current was so strong.
“A giant has built a water mill down in the valley, and as his mill-wheel churns the river is sucked past faster than usual. He is grinding corn for his supper, and for his servants – who are giant rats.” This sounded pretty horrible. The nymph quickly grabbed at some water weed and pulled herself to the bank, not wanting to travel any further downstream. She turned to ask the fish some more questions, but the fish had already swum past.
The little nymph pulled herself out, and found a nice big sunflower in a sunny spot. She noticed that there was more sunshine here, for the trees were getting spread out – she was nearly at the edge of the jungle. As she sat on the sunflower, she realised that it grew beside a big path with animal tracks on it. Soon she saw somebody coming along the track, and she got down to hide in the water weeds. “I may be in a new part of the jungle, but I can still play my cheeky tricks,” she thought to herself.
The traveller was a sad-looking farmer with a feather in his hat, pulling and tugging at a very stubborn-looking mule. After her success in annoying the peacock, the nymph decided to do another bomb into the water. The noise and the splash instantly made the mule sit down, and with a curse the farmer pulled and strained once more to try and get it up. He even placed his foot against a stump and sweated as he tried to get the mule up again, but with no joy. In despair he sat down beside the mule. The nymph was disappointed to see the farmer was not even interested in who might have caused the splash, so she climbed out of the water.
“Hey! Ha, ha, I tricked you!” she tried.
Farmer Feather just sighed. “I don’t know who you are, but if you can help me get this mule back to my fields I’d be grateful. I’ve just delivered corn to the terrible giant at the mill.” And he told the naughty nymph his terrible story. Farmer Feather used to farm his lands for himself and his family, but now he had to give what he had to the giant, while his family went hungry. The giant had told all the farmers in the valley that he would eat the family of anyone that didn’t give him enough food. “But I’m not sure if it was worth all my hard work. Now my family is dying anyway – they’re starving!”
The little nymph listened carefully, and then thought of a trick that could, for once, be helpful. She picked a piece of water weed and leapt onto the mule’s back. Gently she tickled its nose, and the itchy weed made it sneeze. As it did so, Farmer Feather was able to pull hard one more time and before it had time to dig in, the mule found itself back on its feet. The mule grumbled its way all the way back to the farmhouse, with the little nymph riding inquisitively on its back.
The farmhouse was small and crumbling, with broken windows, sagging curtains and paint peeling on the door. The surrounding fields all looked barren, brown and empty. Never had the little nymph seen such emptiness, especially after the lushness of her forest home. The nymph thought about this mean giant, and she thought that if there was ever somebody who deserved to be tricked, it was him. She spoke to Farmer Feather. “Tomorrow when you visit the giant, I will go too, and I may be able to help you.”
So the next morning she hid in a sack of corn and journeyed with the farmer and his cart all the way to the great water mill. It stood tall and bold, proudly eating up all the corn from the poor people all around.
At the entrance to the mill stood a fierce-looking giant rat, who came to sniff Farmer Feather’s wares. For a moment he growled, because the corn had a strange tree smell. Quickly the little nymph had leapt out, unseen, and then the corn smelt normal again. With an odd look at the farmer, and a grunt, the guard rat took the sacks of corn inside, leaving the farmer to turn for home once more.
The little nymph crept inside the mill. She saw an old rope lying like a waiting snake; perfect for her plans. She took it and hurried up the sides of the mill to the rafters – for she was so used to quick climbing, and so good at being hidden. Down below she could see the great ugly giant eating his breakfast, corn bread with a bony broth. His big face was covered in warts and his clothes were covered in grease. Every now and then he would toss a bone to an equally ugly giant pug-dog, slobbering on the floor. At last he had finished, and giant and dog headed off to the jungle to chop wood.
The little nymph had found some ancient pieces of cheese at Farmer Feather’s house, too rotten for the family to eat without being sick, but perfect for rats. One by one she began to throw them down to near the grindstone, where rats were busy at work with the newly ground flour. The rats stopped sifting the flour when they smelt the cheese, and without wondering where it had come from they were soon all nibbling away.
The foreman rat had heard the sifting stop and came up to see what was causing the others to stop work. As he came to them, the little nymph quickly lashed at his back from above, with the rope, then reeled it in just as quickly. The foreman grunted and pushed at a rat behind him. “Keep your tail to yourself, how dare you smack my back, you cretin!” he growled.
The other rat looked crossly at the foreman. “It was nothing to do with me!” he screamed, and pushed the foreman back. Another rat pushed the accused rat at this point, but in his clumsiness his tail got caught in the grindstone of the mill, and soon he was pulled in and crushed by the moving grindstone. At this the rats shrieked, and soon the rats were all piling in to each other and screaming, and blaming each other, until they began to fight and kill each other. Just as the little nymph had suspected, they were all too bad-tempered to stop. In the end only one strong rat was left alive, but he did not wait to be blamed by the giant for the destruction. He ran out of the mill, leaving the grindstone working by itself, carrying on splitting and spilling flour everywhere.
Later that day the little nymph heard the stomping heavy steps of the giant. He stooped to enter his mill, but his eyes quickly became filled with rage at the sight of the dead rats and the spilt corn. He stopped and sniffed the air; there was a strange smell, like a tree, but perhaps it was just something he had smelt in the jungle, or the wood he’d brought back with his dog. He turned to the pile of wood, both from today and a big pile of planks from previous excursions to the jungle. In it was a great trunk of a teak tree, in which the little nymph had hidden.
She called out to the giant in a spooky voice, “I am the spirit of the teak tree. I saw everything that happened here today. The mountain giants came down here and killed all your rat servants, for they are jealous of your success here in the valley.”
The giant cursed under his breath. “I’ll show these meddlers,” he said gruffly, and he told the pug-dog that tomorrow he would be left in charge of the mill. In the morning the giant took his club and set off to find the mountain giants and teach them a lesson. He could not find them anywhere, but he did find some magical mountain stones for the mill. When he came back he put the stones into the water, and they made the river water flow down to the mill even faster than before. He also brought some bigger stones to help inside the mill by meaning he could grind even more corn. The farmers had been greeted by the terrifying sight of the giant’s dog when they brought their corn that day. The little nymph bided her time up in the rafters, watching how the pug-dog had managed to grind the grain all by himself. She had a plan now for the next morning.
In the morning, while the giant was away chopping wood, the dog was slobbering away at his bowls of bones. He was so enjoying himself that he had his eyes closed, lost in the taste of his food. With great speed the nymph grabbed the pug-dog’s bowls and raced out of the mill with it. She hurtled towards the edge of the jungle, and there she threw it into the stickiest gum tree she knew of. The dog came racing along, smelling his bowl and ravenous for his food. The tree was big and the bowl was high, and as the dog climbed up he found his feet sticking fast to the tree. The more he slobbered with anticipation of getting his bones, the more stuck he got, until finally the dog was completely covered in sticky gum, so much that the giant’s powerful nose could not smell him at all. When he returned to find his dog gone and no trace of him, the little nymph spoke to him again in a spooky voice from the teak trunk.
“I saw everything that happened here today, O giant. The wicked witch of the north came to the mill and ate your dog. She was jealous of your success here.” The giant shook his head and cursed again, complaining about these terrible tricksters who were against him. He spent a restless night alone at the mill, and the next day he set off to find the wicked witch of the north.
Farmer Feather was the first farmer to arrive that morning at the mill. He dragged and pulled his mule to the entrance, but could find no-one waiting there. He called and called, but no-one came. Gradually he felt brave enough to come to the entrance, and there the little nymph – who had of course heard him calling – jumped down to greet him.
“Ha ha! The mill is empty today!” She told Farmer Feather the whole story, but he also had something vital to tell her.
The magic stones were now pulling so much water down river so fast that the jungle trees were beginning to die, for their roots did not have enough water now. The nymph realised that they had no time to lose, and she began to plan another trick, this time to catch the giant himself. She called on Farmer Feather to help this time, and using an axe, the farmer spent the day chopping away inside the mill, piece by piece, until it looked from the outside like it was still in one piece, but in fact it was ready to collapse in one instant. The mule was tied by a rope to the wall of the mill, and then the farmer hid, for the giant’s terrible footsteps could be heard.
The giant had found no sign of the wicked witch of the north either, but he was still content and whistling a low and harsh tune, for he had brought a horde of magical seeds from her empty home. As he came to the mill, and before he could think about the mule that was tied outside it, he heard the spooky voice of the little-nymph-teak- spirit calling him once more.
“O giant, I have seen very little today, but I have seen that the millstone is getting blunt from all the extra work it’s doing grinding at such a fierce speed. Please come in and sharpen it!” The giant went to his workshed to fetch a grinding knife, and as the nymph hurried out of the mill, he wandered in. The moment he was inside, the farmer pulled the mule, who tugged at the rope; and in a few seconds he had pulled the wall down – and with it the whole mill. The giant was crushed to death under the new big stones he had fetched from the mountains. At the very moment the mill collapsed, the water stopped being sucked into the big water wheel and instead started flowing on to the fields and the roots of the jungle trees once more.
Farmer Feather took the great pack of seeds that the giant had found. He travelled back to the jungle with the little nymph, and thanked her for her clever ideas. The seeds he planted in his barren fields, and while his family scraped their way through the season, by the next harvest the seeds he had cared for so well had sprouted into a whole field of straight and colourful magic wands. Each wand was able to cast a spell, and so he soon turned his stubborn mule into a strong and helpful carthorse who ploughed the fields in quick time. Then he went to visit his friend the nymph in her jungle tree, taking with him a whole lot of the magic wands.
The nymph, meanwhile, was no longer hiding and playing her old tricks, but was friendly to all the animals and people who passed her way. With the wands she was brought she cast spells to heal sick animals, and to protect the trees from being chopped down. Many a wood-cutter, looking to clear a space for himself with no thought of the jungle, found to his surprise that his axe bounced off the trees now like rubber! Farmer Feather taught the nymph how to tend and look after her small patch of magic wands as they grew. Of course, from time to time she still liked to tickle and splash her friends, but now she was also happy to let the smaller creatures hide from her – and she would always pretend not to see them, so that they thought they were tricking her.
Naughty before but now a new life she needs
Nasty giant never must make us kneel!
Feathers can fly and float, but while the river flows too fast the farmer must fight the foe.
THE GREAT GOOSE, THE KIND KING AND THE VELVET VALLEY
One day the king of the great city of Tinse-Tonse-Tao was resting in his grand garden, when the gardener brought him strange news. An egg had been laid in the garden, but nobody had seen the bird that laid it, and nobody recognised the egg, which was multi-coloured and warm.
The king ordered that the egg be taken to the royal hen-house, where Farmer Feather – the greatest farmer in the land – was called to take a look at it. He declared the egg had been laid by a goose, but such a goose as had never been seen before in the kind king’s country. “I am sure that if we keep it safe, the egg will hatch into another goose, which will bring magic and wealth to the king.”
So the king called in his serving girls and asked who was prepared to watch over the egg. This was a special task, and the king declared that if a servant could not keep watch well, there must be a punishment – of banishment from the king’s court. The king’s daughter was there watching his request to the girls, and she spoke up. “Father, this is a special egg, not one for a mere servant to watch. I insist that I should be the one to look after such a special egg.” The king looked uncertainly at his daughter.
“Do your job well, O daughter, if indeed you insist on it. What I have pronounced as punishment must apply to you too, it is only fair. My heart would be sore if I had to banish you, dear one!” said the king.
The princess took to her task with determination, going to fetch hay first to keep the egg warm. Reluctantly one of the royal hens was persuaded to sit on it, but nonetheless in the morning – the egg was cracked.
The king was terribly troubled. However, as he was on his way to speak to the princess, the gardener came with news that a second egg had been found. The princess had another opportunity, and this was the news the king brought her. She tried her best, prepared a lovely warm bed, and treated the hen who was to sit on it gently and well. Still, the next morning the second egg was also cracked. A third egg was found soon after, and the king spoke to the princess with a heavy heart. “Twice you have taken on this task and twice failed in it. You have one more chance to protect the egg we have been given, or else you must wander away from the palace. You will not be allowed to return until you have found the creature who lays these remarkable eggs.”
The princess forlornly heard the king’s words, wishing she had not been so quick to take on this difficult task. Though she tried her best, by the following morning the third egg too had cracked. As soon as she realised, and before any of her family was awake, she quietly left the palace. She took with her a servant’s hat as a disguise, and a pot of fresh soup from the kitchens.
The princess headed out of the royal gardens and down to a river, where a goose honked and gushed at her. “You have a pot of soup with you, could you spare some for my babies and me? We are very hungry!” The goslings honked around the princess, and she happily fed them some soup.
The mother goose honked agreeably too, and then spoke once more. “I am a great gushing goose, and I speak the truth. I know about the eggs you are seeking, for they were also from a gushing goose. The only way to protect them is to get a purple, velvet nest for them. Then they can safely hatch.”
The princess asked where she could find such a thing. The goose carried on: “Over the seas there is a Velvet Valley, where live weavers who work at night making beautiful velvet. It is many days journey from here – you should go to the harbour and prepare for a long journey if you wish to visit it.” As a parting gift the goose gave the princess three simple white eggs, which she said should be saved for times of need.
The princess followed the goose’s advice and soon found herself in the port, where many ships were sailing in and out, and she disguised herself as a sailor man. She discovered that there was a ship sailing to the land where the Velvet Valley lay, and she managed to get a job on board ship – as a cook. There she raked the fires, served the meals, and watched who was on board with her.
A prince was travelling with the princess. “Who is that young man in the kitchens?” he asked the sailors. But nobody seemed to know. The prince got friendly with the disguised cook, during the course of their long voyage - and she in turn found out that he was travelling on behalf of his king, to make peace with the inhabitants of the Velvet Valley.
At last the ship approached the shores of the Velvet Valley’s country. A black boat came towards them, bringing with it the ambassador from the Velvet Valley. The girl felt very uneasy when she saw the small black boat, and while she was cooking she cracked open one of the gushing goose’s eggs. To her amazement a tiny, fully-grown goose appeared and spoke to her. “Greetings, oh princess. I am a gushing goose and I speak the truth. The ambassador is a vetala2, as are the new rulers of the Velvet Valley. Vetalas only wake in the darkness, which is why the velvet is being woven at night. They have taken over with the help of an enchanted wine. This puts the drinkers to sleep for three months. If, after this time, the spell has not been broken, the drinkers become vetalas too, and follow the orders of the vetala king. You can tell if somebody is a vetala or not: vetalas all have a scar mark on the back of their neck.” And with that, the miniature gushing goose flapped its wings and left the ship.
The princess headed up from the galley and found, to her horror, that all the sailors had been put to sleep, and the prince was missing. It was time for a new plan. The princess took a kitchen knife and made a slender cut in the back of her neck, so as to disguise herself as a vetala. Then she lowered the lifeboat, and she sailed silently to the shore. The sun was coming up over the horizon, and so when she arrived the country seemed deserted: everybody was asleep, on the orders of the vetala king. The great valley was carved between steep mountains, with craggy castles on both sides. In the houses that she passed she saw velvet carpets and curtains, in brown, black, orange, green, blue, red, and even some in a dirty yellow - but none in purple. Everything was gloomy. She went to wash in the rippling little river that ran through the valley, and found that it was full of soap bubbles.
The princess followed the river upstream, to the washhouse of the grandest castle. As she crept inside the gate, she saw washing hanging up outside the walls: there were no purple cloths anywhere. Clouds had come over the sun for a moment, and a small shower of rain came down. The princess turned to look through the rain to the rising sun, and at that moment a rainbow appeared. But the rainbow was missing something: there was no purple stripe.
Suddenly the princess heard a voice. It was a woman’s voice, singing: the washerwoman, who was awake in the daylight:
“Give me the paints from the flowers and the fields,
And I will give you fresh colours for the day
But give me a purple, a royal purple
And all of our cares will melt away.”
Feeling bolder now, the princess crept inside and up to the washerwoman. “Why is there no purple in this country?” she asked, without introducing herself.
The washerwoman was flustered, for she was blind and had not expected a voice so close. However, she heard the princess’s gentle tone and then she found her voice. “Purple is forbidden by the vetala king. In the old days purple velvet made the valley famous, but it reminds the vetalas too much of sunrise. In the old days I was once queen of this country, and the vetalas blinded me. Our people got too bold, we cleared out the land of its colours, and then our wealth only made us stupid, so that the vetalas could come down from their homes in the caves and enchant us all with their wine. They only spared me because they hate to get soap on their hands, but they blinded me all the same.”
The old queen then heard the princess’s story of her own search for purple velvet. Then she spoke again. “There is more, a greater secret as to why the vetalas hate purple so. Purple velvet kept us strong in the past. It is the antidote to the vetalas’ spells, and will wake those humans that the wine has enchanted and made think that they are vetalas too. There is no purple dye to be found in this country, though. We used to crush purple rocks from the mines, but all the purple rocks have been hidden by the vetalas, deep in their caves.”
Hearing this, the princess thanked the old queen for her information, and decided to head for the caves where the vetalas used to live. Above the caves was a tiny goose – the miniature gushing goose she had released from the white egg, now grown a little bigger. “I am a gushing goose, and I speak the truth. You can find purple rocks in these caves, but only if you walk backwards, for they have been hidden with magic. Never turn the right way round, or you will be trapped. Be sure to be out before sunset, or the vetalas will come for you.”
The kind king’s daughter turned and walked into the caves backwards, and as she walked she could feel creepy things touching her from behind. As she carried on she heard eerie noises, and then saw shadows of ugly creatures behind her. Bravely she carried on, certain that these were just attempts to frighten her. At last the red rocks began to change, to orange, to yellow, to green, to blue, and finally to purple. Taking her cook’s knife once more she carved off a little of the purple rock. As she did so she heard a sobbing moan, and as she headed forwards to the entrance again, the sobbing behind her sounded louder and louder. At last the princess reached the entrance, in time to hear a desperate call: “Come back! Help me! Help me!”
The princess’s heart reached out for this helpless cry, and she turned around in pity. As she did so rocks began to crack above her and fall to block the entrance. She dived through the tiny gap that was still left, but as she reached the safety of the outside the skin on her left little toe was ripped off by the rocks. Tired and wiser she hurried down the hillside.
The sun was already setting, and by the time she had recovered strength to return to the washhouse, vetala guards were on duty. They checked her neck for a scar, and then let her through to see the washerwoman. The old queen heard her greeting and turned to her in excitement. “Will you dye me a velvet blanket purple?” asked the princess. “I have the rock you need.”
The queen was nervous. “This would be high treason, of course.”
The princess felt in her pocket. “Here is a gift for you if you will do me this favour. A lucky goose egg from a gushing goose.” The queen felt the egg, turning it in her hands. Then she gently placed the egg down, filled a great pot, and placed in it the purple rock with a velvet blanket.
She sang once more as she dyed the blanket:
“Give me the paints from the flowers and the fields,
And I will give you fresh colours for the day
But give me a purple, a royal purple
And all of our cares will melt away.”
The princess and the old queen pulled the blanket out of the pot, and as they did so the egg on the ground cracked open with a brilliant flash of light and a thunderous sound. As it did so, the queen reached up to her blind eyes – which were suddenly able to see again. The noise caused the vetala guards to rush in, but at the sight of the purple blanket they shrunk back. The princess threw the blanket onto them, and the guards fell in a heap to the ground – and then woke up, human again, no longer enchanted, and very confused about what they were doing there. The washerwoman and the princess escaped with the purple velvet, and rushed up into the castle, throwing the blanket at as many enchanted humans as they could – all ones that the washerwoman knew had once been her human subjects, but now thought they were vetalas. Once they had been released from their enchantment the washerwoman called on them to help defeat the vetala king.
“But where will the foreign prince be, who came on the ship with me?” asked the princess.
“He will be being protected by the vetala king as a special prize. The vetala king has powerful magic at his command: he it was that took purple out of the valley’s rainbows.”
The growing crowd swept up through the castle to the vetala king’s lair at the top. There they burst in on the vetala and his advisers – all true vetalas from the mountains. The princess slowly unwrapped the blanket, which she had wrapped the last gushing goose egg in.
The horrified king turned to his servants, at the sight of the purple blanket. “Seize it!”
But the egg in the blanket was no longer white. It was multi-coloured, and at that moment it hatched. A golden crown shone from it, so brightly that the vetalas covered their eyes and backed away. The old queen picked up the crown and placed it on her head with much satisfaction. “I order that the false rulers of this valley should leave now. Your magic has served you well but your time here is up. Be gone!”
With a shriek the vetalas found themselves being pushed out by a force much bigger than them, out of the castle, out of the valley, and the light shining out of the crown followed them all the way up and over the mountains. They cowered all the way, and never troubled the Velvet Valley again.
But what of the princess? She saw the prince there, lying in a drugged sleep. She draped the purple velvet blanket over him, and bent down to kiss him. The prince awoke to see, with surprise, the ship’s cook bending over him! She took off her hat, and shook out her long golden hair, and told him that she was truly a princess. The queen declared that a wedding should take place, to which the grateful prince was heartily in agreement, and before they left there was a great celebration, with velvets of all kinds specially woven for the occasion, and much purple rock being uncovered in the mines for royal purple dyes.
Finally the time had come to leave the Velvet Valley. The prince and princess rowed out together, taking with them the purple velvet blanket. They used it to wake up the sailors on the ship, which still floated in the waves, and together they sailed back to the princess’s land. They were greeted at the harbour by sad news: a terrible plague had hit the land around Tinse-Tonse-Tao, and the princess realised in distress that she had, after all, not brought back with her a multi-coloured egg – but had helped the queen of the Velvet Valley with it instead. The prince and princess hurried towards the king’s palace, worried about whether they would be allowed in or not. They soon heard a familiar honking sound: the gushing mother goose was greeting her!
“Dear princess, I see you have found the purple velvet you would need for a multi-coloured egg to hatch. And so I have a second present for you: one of my other eggs.”
The prince and princess looked in amazement as the goose revealed a rainbow egg to them. “You see, I am a gushing goose and I must speak the truth. I laid these for you in the garden. And this one you will surely manage to hatch.” And with that the little gushing goose flapped her wings and flew away.
The princess now returned to the sad palace, where the servants and the king and queen themselves had been struck by the terrible plague, and many people looked likely to die. The king managed to smile weakly at the princess and greet her new husband, but he was more delighted when he heard her story. Overnight the egg was kept warm by the purple velvet, and in the morning a beautiful gift-giving goose had been hatched from the egg. The princess wished for the plague to leave the land, for all to be blessed with good health, and in a moment the king was up and about once more, organising a great celebration for his daughter’s marriage. The goose continued to live in the garden, and whenever the kingdom needed protection or help, it would lay another magical egg, which the king could use to help his people.
Grey or golden, give us your gifts, we are grateful O glorious goose!
Veiled in the valley of velvet lie the vile and vicious vetalas.
The kind king cuts across the country to keep his court safe.
THE YELLOW YOGI AND THE CRYSTAL CAVE
The marble-palace prince who lived in the Majestic Mountains was troubled. The kingdom which his parents ruled in the Majestic Mountains was rising higher and higher, and as they did so, the beautiful marble walls of their palace were beginning to crack. He could see that the king and queen were getting older, the higher the palace got. One day he travelled to see his great friend, the Master Magician, to ask him what was causing the kingdom to rise.
The Magician pondered the question for a while, then turned to the prince. “I cannot say, but the Yellow Yogi will know. He is a great friend to the angels, and he is the only person I know who understands the movements of mountains. Come, we will travel to his country on my flying carpet.”
So the Magician and the prince flew out over the ocean on the wonderful carpet, and then they arrived at the cold country where the Yellow Yogi lived. They flew towards a river whose reflection was so smooth it was known as the river of mirrors. They followed the river up a mountain path, and soon they reached a waterfall, crashing down from a great height over the rocks. The little prince put his hands in front of his eyes as the Master Magician flew straight into the waterfall – and landed on a rock behind it. The noise from the crashing waterfall had stopped suddenly, and the little prince found he was in a cave with rainbow-coloured rocks. “Farewell,” said the Magician. “The Yellow Yogi will have the answers you seek.” And he flew back through the waterfall.
The little prince soon heard another sound – the sound of his own teeth chattering. There was an icy wind blowing through the pass, and he could see snow falling on the mountain tops. “Greetings,” called a peaceful voice, “prince from the marble palace.” The prince turned round to see a yellow man, standing on his head with his legs spread wide in the air. He was wearing nothing more than a simple loincloth, despite the great cold. The Yellow Yogi saw the wonder on the prince’s face. “Many are the mysteries of the world, dear prince. It is best not to ask too much too soon.”
But the prince could not stop himself. “Tell me, how can I stop my kingdom from rising?”
“Only a fool would want to. Ask a different question,” replied the Yellow Yogi, and he hopped down to carry on with his impressive exercises while the prince sat thinking.
“Breakfast, my master?” called a younger voice from inside the cave. The Yogi said yes, and his apprentice appeared, his teeth chattering nearly as much as the little prince, but wearing only a loincloth, like the Yogi. He brought with him a yellowish bowl of yak’s yoghurt. It was ice cold, as the prince quickly found out when the Yogi offered him some.
“How do you get to survive here, when everything is so cold?” the prince asked.
The Yogi smiled. “I learnt many things that are surprising, by carrying out the tasks my master set me.”
“Can I do such tasks, and learn like you have?” the prince said innocently.
“Of course!” the Yogi said quickly. “Your first task is to sweep this cave clean.”
The prince was shocked at the idea. He had never had to do household chores before, but reluctantly he set to work, pushing the broom back and forth over the whole cave. When all was clean he discovered that he had warmed up. Perhaps it was indeed worth doing what the Yogi asked! “What is the next task, O Yellow Yogi?”
The Yogi patted him on the shoulder. “It is not your destiny to be my apprentice. But I do have an important task for you, to help you with the question you first asked me. You must collect a pure white crystal from the centre of the Crystal Cave. You must head straight for the centre of the cave, and not gaze for a moment at the other crystals.”
The prince was confused. “Where is this crystal cave? Is it close by?”
The Yogi chuckled. He led the prince through his cave, to a point where the cave narrowed to a thin tunnel. “It lies in that direction.”
The prince had to bend down to a crawl to get into the tunnel, and he could soon see a chink of light on the other side. He crawled hurriedly towards the fresh air, but when he reached the tunnel’s end he discovered it opened onto a sheer cliff face. He stopped too late, and had to grip tightly with his hands onto the rocks, but it was not enough: he began to slip down the side. He heard a rushing noise below, and looked down to see a raging river; and worse, there were logs moving in the river: crocodiles! The crocodiles looked up at him and began to gnash their great white teeth. Just in time, the little prince grabbed on to a branch sticking out of the rock face. The prince wondered to himself, “How on earth am I supposed to get over the river?”
To his surprise the branch spoke, and with the Yellow Yogi’s voice! “Take a handful of dust from the hole in the rock nearest to you. Sprinkle it in front of you.” Holding on tight with one hand, the prince reached up to the rock above him where there was a gaping hole. He reached in and filled his hand with dust. He turned to look down again, and sprinkled the dust, which floated down through the air. As it reached the river and touched the crocodiles, their teeth stopped gnashing, and the prince could hear a snorting, grunting noise: they were snoring! The prince dropped down from his branch and landed on the back of a sleeping crocodile. Using them as stepping stones he made it safely across the river.
Now he saw where he had arrived. It was a flat plain, with mountains rising on all sides, and no particular sign of any caves. Where could the Crystal Cave be? He looked more closely at the mountains. One of them was beautiful and purplish. The prince decided that this would be a good choice for finding the cave. He began to climb.
But the climb was very steep, the wind was blowing ferociously, and the prince soon felt exhausted. He made it all the way to the top of the mountain, but there was no sign of any caves. As he sat down, feeling dejected, he suddenly noticed someone sitting next to him. It was the Yellow Yogi! “I’m glad you made it here at last. This is indeed a beautiful place to be, a wonderful tall mountain, but it holds no caves, as you have discovered. Think a little more carefully next time!” And with that the Yogi disappeared.
After regaining his breath, the prince headed down the mountainside and back to the wide plain, now feeling tired and hungry. He decided to find somewhere to sleep for the night, and ahead of him he could see a small forested ravine, like a crack of a valley. It looked like just what he needed, so he eagerly rushed on and down a stony path, to a shady set of trees with a wall of rocks behind them. He collapsed in a heap and slept there under the canopy.
When the little prince awoke he looked around. There was something a little odd about the rocky wall. As he investigated further he realised it held the entrance to a cave! However, the cave was sealed by a huge stone. While he was pondering, a parrot flew past, cawed at him, and then spoke in the Yellow Yogi’s voice. “Your feet seem to know better than your head which way to go. Behind this stone lies the Crystal Cave, but to move the stone aside with your hands is impossible. Instead you must find the right magic formula, the right words which will command the stone.” The parrot flew off, and the hungry prince made a breakfast from fruits he had not seen on his evening rush down the path.
While he was eating, the prince found butterflies surrounding him. The prince decided to follow the beautiful creatures, as they danced in and out of the morning sunbeams. The butterflies led him through the trees to a fountain. The fountain bubbled away merrily, with a sound like ‘rubaglubaglibagliba, rubaglubaglibagliba, rubaglubaglibagliba’. The boy washed his hands and face and drank the water from the fountain. He then noticed something strange in his reflection. When he splashed water on his face, it turned his reflection – and only his reflection – gold. So there was something rather unusual about this fountain – perhaps this was not the only unusual thing. He listened more carefully to the bubbling sound of the fountain, and began to sing along with it. Maybe this could help him with the stone at the cave!
He walked excitedly back to the stone, repeating the fountain’s sounds: “Rubaglubaglibagliba, rubaglubaglibagliba, rubaglubagliba.” And when the prince reached the stone, saying these words, the stone rolled to one side. Cautiously he stepped in to the Crystal Cave. Everywhere there seemed to be crystals growing, downwards, upwards, in clusters and clumps, in beautiful rainbow colours, and – in the centre – in purest white. He remembered his task well, and headed straight for the centre, without stopping to look at the other beautiful crystals. He tried to lift the pure white crystal, and it seemed to rise easily from the rocks, but with it came a voice – a woman’s voice, as sweet as his own mother’s voice. “Welcome, determined one.”
And as the words finished, the prince felt the floor move under his feet. Moving the crystal had shifted a lever, and the whole central circular block of the cave that he was standing on descended into a room brightly lit by crystals. There lay a shining crystal sword, and some sparkling food laid out on a crystal table, in a crystal bowl. In the centre of the table there stood a crystal ball. The prince sat at the table and looked into the crystal ball, and there he saw swirling clouds in the skies. As he looked further into the clouds there appeared a mighty figure, the wizard-king of the Cloud Kingdom, busy casting great spells from his throne in the clouds, and causing the mountains below him to rise higher and higher.
The voice of the Crystal Cave spoke again. “Prince from the Majestic Mountains, your parents are dying because they cannot cope with the special air and bright light coming from the sky’s Cloud Kingdom and its wizard-king. They do not even know that the Cloud Kingdom exists: wise men around the world argue about whether it is there or not. Only you have been able to see what the wizard-king is doing. Your mountain realm needs a new leader now, but it must be one that can prove worthy to rule it. If you eat the crystal food here you will safely reach new heights, and the crystal sword can also aid you in your journey, but you must somehow reach the cloud kingdom if you can.”
The voice finished. The prince tasted some of the crystal food, which was delicious, like the tastiest salty foods and the sweetest puddings all rolled into one. Then he lifted the crystal sword, which shone in every direction. He stepped up and out of the Crystal Cave, and found afternoon sunlight blazing at him. The Crystal Cave door now led him not to the forest in which he had spent the morning, but to the edge of his own mountain kingdom, and a gentle, open hillside; it took him a while to realise that the Crystal Cave must have the power to move itself. He climbed up above the cave, and found the air thin. The sun was already close to setting, and as he climbed higher he found himself on bare rock, with the wind howling around him.
Suddenly he noticed that he was not alone. In the gloom he could see many shining eyes, and the eyes were getting closer, and there were whispers too. The wind whipped around the prince, and through the bare bushes on the hillside. As the eyes closed in on him they spoke out in an eerie voice. “Royal prince, you come too late. We will’o’wisps are free to move here now. The air is fresh for us, but too thin for you.” It felt to the prince as if the wind had tightened around his throat. With all his might he lifted the crystal word, and as it shone out into the night the eyes sighed crossly and backed away.
The prince took in a slow breath and gulped. “I need to reach the kingdom of the clouds. If you can breathe easily in this thin air, who here can help me?”
There was a muttering among the eyes, and then one weasley little will’o’wisp wafted its way forward. “Since you are the true prince, and have the crystal sword, I will help you. Leap with me.” Together they leapt up, and the prince held onto what little there was to hold onto on the will’o’wisp. They rose up towards the peaks of the mountains, where there was snow and ice everywhere. Then, suddenly, the will’o’wisp dumped the prince in a great drift of snow. “Ha ha! You’ll never get to the kingdom!” it shouted triumphantly. The prince felt a tingling in his hands, and a rage in his throat. With the tingling, he felt now that the snow was not so cold as before. He lifted the crystal sword and turned in a spin to swing the sword right through the middle of the will’o’wisp.
All around came the sound of a thousand small gusts of wind, and then the prince saw lying in the snow the body, not of a will’o’wisp, but of a small black goblin. Behind him the prince heard the crunch of snow. The Yellow Yogi stood beside him. “The crystal sword has better uses than for killing goblins.” And he disappeared.
The prince looked for a while at the sword, wondering at the Yellow Yogi’s words. Was he just disapproving? Or was he perhaps trying to tell the prince something? At last, the prince brought the sword down with a swift action, into the snow. The snow sparkled and the prince saw rings beginning to form in the snow. He lifted it and brought it down once more, and the snow became like glass, or maybe like crystals. The prince stepped onto the snow crystals and instantly fell backwards as the glowing snow began to lift him high into the air. He felt how thin the air was now – so thin that his skin was beginning to crack in pain. Fortunately he had brought some of the crystal food with him. He ate a little and instantly his skin felt softer again, and he felt his body getting lighter and brighter.
The crystal snow platform came to a halt and the prince saw he was surrounded by wisps of white cloud. He heard the sound of flapping wings, and a pitch black crow landed in front of him. “Who dares enter the cloud kingdom must first ride me,” she croaked. The prince determinedly climbed on to the crow, but the crow cackled as he did so, and turned to show the prince her cheeky goblin’s face. The prince was about to lift his sword and attack the crow, but then he remembered the Yogi’s words. Instead, he held tight, as the crow dived out of the clouds and raced down, twisting, turning, looping down lower than the snow line, and the prince held on for dear life. He held on so tight that he began to steer the crow towards the hillside.
They were rushing towards the hill now, and a thought rushed towards the prince. He pointed his sword at the hill and called out “Rubaglubaglibagliba, rubaglubaglibagliba, rubaglubaglibagliba” – and in the side of the hill there suddenly appeared the open door of the Crystal Cave! He leapt off onto the hillside at the last moment, and with a last push he sent the crow into the cave, which snapped shut on the crow.
But the prince found himself not on the hillside at all – he was still in the air, and suddenly was pulled up at great speed back to the cloud kingdom, like a bubble in water. There he was met by the wizard-king. “Royal prince, you met the test of the crow. Do not grieve for your parents. Because of your new crystal light body, they will be able to live and learn in your kingdom, and their wounds from the thin air will slowly heal. Now look over your land, for time it is that you were king.”
The prince turned and looked down to see the mountains rushing up faster than ever, until they touched the edge of the clouds. He turned back to see not the wizard-king, but the Yellow Yogi. “Where has the wizard-king gone?” he asked.
“A man plays many parts in his life,” replied the Yellow Yogi – and he put his starry-wizard-crown back onto his head. “As the wizard-king of the cloud realms, I now pronounce you first king of the kingdom that touches the sky.” The new king stepped off the clouds and directly onto a mountain top. The Yellow Yogi had a last suggestion for him. “A new king needs a queen. The crystal cave may still help you in this.”
There the new king pointed his sword at the rocks. “Rubaglubaglibagliba, rubaglubaglibagliba, rubaglubaglibagliba,” he said, and once more the Crystal Cave appeared and opened. He walked in again. In the centre of the cave there stood, not a crow, no longer a black goblin, but a glowing crystal princess. And the first act of the new king was to declare that there would be a royal wedding, in a new palace built not of marble but of gold. The remaining will’o’wisps were brought humbly up to the palace, to be servants to the royal couple; and the king knew to use his sword for ruling wisely, so that soon the will’o’wisps came to trust him.
Yellow Yogi eats yucky yak’s yoghurt.
Cut a curve in the cliff and call for the crystal cave to come.
THE LAST ALPHABET TALE:
ZIPPY ZOOMER, XANADU AND XERXES
Zippy Zoomer was proud to be the chief’s messenger, for he knew he was the fastest runner around. He was forever being sent on errands to distant rulers: the fire-king and queen, or the king of the land that touches the sky, or the queen of the velvet valley, or the rulers of Tinse-Tonse-Tao. And once he was given a message and told who it was for, he would zoom and zallie, ziddle and zoodle, zimph and zurry, zig and zag until he had delivered his message.
One day the chief sent him off with a message for the general of the army. He zoomed and zaamed, ziffed and zoofed, and stopped at a well on the way to get a quick drink, for it was a hot day and he was thirsty. Zippy was in such a hurry to get the water that he dropped the message into the well. It fluttered open on the way down, and lay on the surface of the water, but Zippy could not read, so he needed somebody else to read it for him. He called out to lots of passing animals to try and get them to look at the message: the owl could not read it, the buck could not. The lion just laughed at him and the tortoise hid in its shell at the thought of having to read. Zippy sat down, desperate to find out what the vital message was that he was missing.
At last somebody came past who could read. It was the local milkmaid, come to collect cooking water for her supper. She peered into the well and read to Zippy Zoomer: “Xerxes wearing his tuxedo, against Xanadu with an axe and six extra oxen.” The bottom half of the message was by now underwater, sucked into the well. Zippy decided that this confusing message would have to do. He thanked the milkmaid and raced off to find the general of the chief’s army.
The general was very puzzled when Zippy told him the message, but still, he sent the army off to stop Xerxes and Xanadu, who must be causing the chief terrible problems if he was calling the general for help. In fact, the chief could not decide which man should be his chief minister, Xerxes or Xanadu. The chief had organised a one-on-one fight between the two of them, which all the important people in the country were being invited to watch.
A great crowd was assembled to see the strange fight. Xerxes approached with an outstretched sword, looking very dapper in his tuxedo suit with a splendid bow tie. Xanadu arrived riding on one of his oxen, his battleaxe high in the air. They both struck at the other’s weapon together, with a ‘ks, ks, ks’ sound shaking the air. The confused general arrived with the army to find the chief hurrying over to him. His task was actually just to ring the bell to declare the end of the fight. Amidst the confusion caused by the soldiers’ arrival, the chief declared that the result was a draw. Xerxes would be the chief minister on Mondays and Wednesdays, Xanadu the chief minister on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and on Fridays they would share the job.
After the fight, the chief called Zippy to his hut and spoke to him severely about losing half the message and lots of time. As punishment, he was sent off with a long message for the Master Magician, who lived in a very distant country. The message invited him to come to a tea party on Sunday, and Zippy raced over hill and dale to deliver it – he zipped and zooted, zuffled and zeemed all the way to the Master Magician’s house. He had to leave the message in his letter box as the Master Magician was out. By the time Zippy returned to the chief, he was exhausted.
It was by now Monday and Xerxes told him to rest for the rest of the day. The next day Xanadu was in charge, and he sent him off with a message to a neighbouring chief. Zippy raced through the jungle to deliver the message, and this time he stopped to rest by leaning with the letter against an inviting-looking tree. However, the tree was a very sticky gum tree, and Zippy realised to his horror that the letter was stuck fast, with no sign of anyone around to help. Once more Zippy wished that he could read, for the message was clearly there for anyone who could do so.
As the day wore on, old Toombaasa, the wise woman of the jungle came past him. She asked him his troubles, and he told her his problem. “I’ve heard you are a powerful magic-maker. Can’t you just wave a wand for me so that I can be able to read?”
The wise woman laughed. “Magic is powerful, but not in that way. You have to learn to read for yourself. I could teach you, if you like.”
Zippy groaned, for he wanted to get the letter delivered much more quickly than that. “Why don’t you just read it for me? It would take far too long for me to learn to read.”
The wise woman chuckled. “No, I really think you should wait with this message until you can read it yourself.”
Over the next few days and weeks Zippy stayed with the wise woman while she taught him how to read, and the winter got darker and colder. Zippy often found he needed to race round and round the trees to let off steam, he couldn’t simply sit and learn to read all day long; but still, he stuck with the wise woman’s teaching, for after her warning, he didn’t want to get the message wrong.
At last the day came when Zippy was able to read the message himself. It said: “This message is a demand for a tax. Send your golden ox back with Zippy Zoomer or we will declare war on you. Signed Xanadu, chief minister of the realm.”
Zippy leapt up in fright on reading this message. “Where are the warriors? Surely Xanadu should have gone to war in the months that I have not returned with a golden ox!”
The wise woman appeared beside him. “You must remember that Xerxes and Xanadu take it in turns to rule. Xanadu has ordered the troops out each day to prepare for war, but then the next day Xerxes keeps sending them back to barracks. On Friday they disagree about everything, fight again for deciding who should be minister, and it keeps being a draw.” Zippy was horrified to hear of how close things had come to war. Why on earth did Xanadu want a golden ox?
The wise woman continued. “The golden ox brings great fertility to croplands. It would make sure the chief’s lands were always lush and full of crops and no-one in the land would go hungry. Xanadu wants to get it to plough the fields. This might seem a good idea, but of course the chief that owns the ox at the moment would lose out, so he is never going to give the ox without a war. And if there is a war, your chief would lose, because the other army comes from such a well-fed country. Xanadu will not listen to reason, and last Friday he almost beat Xerxes in the fight. Time is running out! And you, Zippy, could save the day if you can find another golden ox to satisfy Xanadu.”
Zippy sat perplexed at the great task ahead of him. The situation seemed desperate. The only thing he could think to do was to go and ask the neighbouring chief where his ox came from. He zipped and zoomed his way to the chief’s quarters, announcing that he was bringing a royal message. “My chief would dearly love to know where to get a golden ox like yours, to help my people to eat well.” The chief nodded, and wrote a response, which he handed to Zippy. Zippy bowed, took the message, left the court and, as soon as he could, he opened the letter.
It read: “To his highness the chief. Send your best reader to the elves of the forest, and you will find a clue about the golden ox written on their great tree.” In his many travels, Zippy knew exactly where to find the elves in the forest, and when he reached their grove he saw the great tree the chief had mentioned.
He scoured the tree for some writing, and eventually he saw it, carved into the roots of the tree. “Look to the left where a clear path looms, search under the third patch of brown mushrooms.” Zippy followed the instructions and raced along the path – one, two, three patches of mushrooms later he found the next instruction.
“Cross the mountains and the valley wide, reach the stream on the other side, half-way up lies a mulberry tree, in it an old eagle’s nest you will see.” Zippy zoomed and zooted out of the forest, zigzagged his way up the mountains and down the other side, zeered his way across the valley, found the stream – and, soon enough, the eagle’s nest. There lay another message. He was tired by now, and the sun was beginning to set. Tomorrow was another Friday, perhaps the day when Xanadu really became chief minister. His weary eyes looked at the message.
“Towards the setting sun now race, till an old volcano you can face. Climb in to the inner ring, to pass the warrior there quietly sing:
“Zum zum zoodle zoodle zakary and zebedee, zum zum zoodle zoodle zum”.
As Zippy raced on the old volcano soon came in sight. As he raced up it he found a stern old warrior standing there wearing a zebra-skin. It was now dark outside, but the moonlight still helped Zippy to see. Zippy sang softly to the old man, who stood there firmly, pointing his spear:
“Zum zum zoodle zoodle zakary and zebedee, zum zum zoodle zoodle zum”.
At the end of his song, the warrior nodded, lifted his spear, and silently passed Zippy another instruction, written luminously in a magically bright script.
“Follow the path in that spirals down. In the centre of the crater lies a termite mound. To protect your hand warm it first in the mud, then reach in where the termites seek blood.” Zippy thanked the warrior, and silently ran down the path to where geysers of hot mud bubbled away. He stepped in, covered his hand in mud, and plunged it into the mound, which quickly crawled with fierce-looking termites; but, protected by the mud, not one of them bit him. In the mound he found a golden key, which he pulled out and then quickly stepped away from the termites’ home.
On the side of the key was written, “I open the temple beyond the Dragon’s Teeth River. To cross you must use the causeway, which is passable for one hour until sunrise.”
Zippy gulped. Sunrise was by now on its way. He raced over to the roaring river and looked for the causeway. In the dawn light he spied the stepping stones and zoomed across them. As he crossed the last stone he heard a terrifying roar. Safe on dry land, he turned to see a huge dragon rising out of the water – the causeway had been its teeth, and now as the dragon roared and breathed the water began to bubble and boil. Zippy did not look back again, but raced up to the temple.
The temple stood tall and strong on the far bank of the river, its marble walls reaching high up the sides of the volcano’s crater. He unlocked the temple with the golden key, and stepped inside. A grand sight welcomed him: torches and candles lit the whole temple up, and all the letters of the alphabet were written around the walls of the temple, and everywhere were messages and grand poems and stories. A priest in purple robes smiled at him. “Zippy Zoomer, congratulations. You have shown you have both fast legs and a fast head to read well.” He passed Zippy Zoomer a last message, on golden paper.
It read: “WELL DONE. YOUR GOLDEN OX AWAITS YOU NOW.”
Zippy turned to see a pen full of golden oxen. The priest opened the gate and one ox came out to join him, and Zippy climbed onto its back. Being a golden ox, Zippy soon discovered that it could fly, leading him safely up and out of the volcano and down to his chief’s realm.
Xerxes and Xanadu were angrily lining up against each other again, ready for the fight, when the crowd began to turn and shout and point in a different direction: everyone was amazed to see Zippy returning on a golden ox. He came back and told them of his journey to keep the peace. The crowd proclaimed that Zippy Zoomer, not Xerxes or Xanadu, should be the new chief minister, and the chief was very relieved.
Zippy Zoomer proved to be a wonderful new minister, and his first instruction was to have Xerxes and Xanadu hold their axe and sword in place, as the entrance to a new school was built around them. At last they could let go of the axe and the sword, for the axe and sword were by now part of the school wall. Zippy put Xanadu in charge of teaching reading and writing, and Xerxes in charge of running and jumping, for, as Zippy now knew, both were important things to learn. Xerxes and Xanadu were happy with their new jobs, and above all, they were happy to leave their endless clashes on the wall above their heads. X, x, x.
He would zoom and zallie, ziddle and zoodle, zimph and zurry, zig and zag.
Xerxes wearing his tuxedo, against Xanadu with an axe and six extra oxen
AFTERWORD: HOW TO USE THIS BOOK! A GUIDE FOR THE ADULTS
If you want to use the stories as an introduction for the capital letters (which are all equally sized so are easier to grasp than the small letters), then the following is the format I used in the classroom, which is more-or-less the format used in all Waldorf/ Steiner classrooms. Please note that Steiner schools are quite strict about not formally introducing letters before the age of 6. The abstract process of learning letters, even when made more imaginative through stories and rhymes, does not sit easily with what young children do best – being busy with their bodies rather than their heads. It’s worth noting that Finland, where no children start learning to read before 6 or even 7 years old, has the best academic results later on in the West, while the US and UK, which tend to push literacy at a much younger age, have among the worst academic results later on. Though there are various factors involved, there are quite a few recent studies corroborating this, for example in Germany (Puhani and Weber 2006), Sweden and Norway (Öckert 2005), or Hungary (Hámori 2007).
So, what follows assumes your child is now 6 years or older (!) – though of course you may have got them at a school where they’re learning letters younger and you want to help counter that a little by broadening the school’s approach...
Do not say anything about the letters being taught on the first day you tell part of the story. Let the story live with the children, and if you can keep the illustration hidden then do so. The longer they can be allowed to come to their own imaginative pictures, the better for their creative thinking and development. The characters representing consonants in this story all have names beginning with the most common sound made by the consonant, not the ‘name’ of the consonant (e.g. ‘g’ not ‘jee’). These sounds are important to get differentiated first, before more complex names and diphthongs etc. To assist there is an alliterative sentence associated with each consonant, at the end of each story in bold. This sentence can be repeated by children even on the first day. Then you can get them to repeat it and do tasks whenever the relevant sound is pronounced – putting hands on hips, or clicking their fingers, first with you, then by themselves. Clapping can work if there’s not too many children – otherwise the sound gets lost which is counter-productive! And then you can ask them to think of other words that start with the same sound. You can point out differences like soft ‘c’s as you go along, but without getting too heavy about spelling at this stage.
For the vowels things are different: there are the classic international phonetic vowel sounds, there are the English names of these letters which are also used in English words, and there are the simple vowel sounds. So there is more than one sentence you can use for these stories. The international sounds can be confusing (E is English ‘a’ as in ‘name’, I is English E as in ‘need’) so don’t dwell on them beyond the song at the start of the Angel ‘A’ story.
Y and W are both represented by wise ‘friends of the angels’ – the Wise Woman and the Yellow Yogi – which is an idea you could later use with the introduction of the complex vowel sounds that include w or y. However, in this introductory context they are only given their consonant sound.
On the second day the children can see the illustration, and they can copy it too. For this copying it’s best to use good quality wax or pencil crayons, as they allow for more variety of artistic tone than felt tip pens do. Encourage them to really shade in their images, lots of artistic colour is ‘good for the soul’! Then you can work with the magic hidden in the picture – the form of the letter.
Before the children actually write the letter, it’s really good if they can work at a gross motor level first, tracing the letter with their hands in the air, or with their feet in the air, or their nose... and doing so preferably top to bottom, left to right, which is good practice to get into for cursive writing later. Then they can work with it on the floor, walking one you have chalked out (facing the direction you would be looking at while if they were writing it), or drawing one in the sand pit with a stick, or any other imaginative ideas you may have. They can even form the letter out of beeswax or plasticine. Then, on a really large piece of paper (bigger than A4), and with great emphasis on care and beauty – they write the letter, tracing its path first, perhaps writing first in a light colour that they can go over when they are more confident. Over days to come they can practice writing it smaller, but not much smaller than 5cm high yet! Write the letters using colours, there’s no need for monochrome grey during this exploring stage of writing.
Although some of the stories feature more than one letter, try not to introduce both letters on the same day, but keep that day’s writing especially about one special new letter. Once the vowel sounds have been introduced you can start teaching the children three-letter words containing simple vowels and they can have simple phonics fun finding rhyming words that work. At the end of my lessons with these stories my class wrote our first sentence, which was ‘WELL DONE! YOUR GOLDEN OX AWAITS YOU NOW’. For these first writing tasks we put a little star inbetween each word to show where the space should come. There is no harm in having the children copy words that are longer than their phonics understanding, for writing is a rather different task to reading. Indeed the emphasis in Steiner education is on writing coming first as an initial academic process; it is an activity that engages the whole body, albeit on a fine motor level once the initial gross motor level has been practised. Reading is a much more purely intellectual thing, but how empowering it must be, a day after you’ve written a sentence, to come back and have your own writing as your very first reading task! (Read with the adult’s help, of course). Thereafter if you want to pursue this way of teaching further, there are many other books and resources available online for Waldorf homeschooling, or if you’re interested at a school level browse through www.steinerwaldorf.org in the UK, which has good links for Steiner sites in others countries.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Before these stories were ever written down, most of them were concocted and told to a class of children. So a big thank you to the children who were in class 1 in 2005 at Michael Oak Waldorf School – you were the inspiration for these stories: thank you Nawaal, Rachel, Isabella, Jesse, Azhar, Ben, Aziz, Lia, Halen, Chelsea, Amy, Jordan, Gabi, Jack, Andisiwe, Caitlin, Shanni, Sunya, James, Michael, Vikyle, Raylee, Jacques, Connor, Omri, Abraham, Hana, Alexander and Max.
A big thank you also to my colleagues at Michael Oak, including Marion Penfold who helped with suggestions for the introductory story, and Charlene Jefferies who first came up with J for Jellyfish; and my mentors at the Centre for Creative Education, including Peter van Alphen who encouraged us with the block on writing letter stories (from whence came Robin Redbreast). A few of the names are Waldorf classics that I first heard of then – even if I have enlarged quite a bit on their characters - such as the Kind King and Quiet Queen, Angel ‘A’ and the Crystal Cave.
AND thankyou to Carey Yarrow for taking on a couple of my simple drawings and adding her fine artistic skill (in an ongoing way….).
1 Author’s note: a tokoloshe is a ferocious little black imp, well known in Africa
2 A vetala is a nasty spirit that likes to take over the bodies of humans. It is well known in India.
HOW TO USE ‘ALPHABET TALES’ AUDIO/EBOOK!
A FULLER GUIDE FOR THE ADULTS
If you want to use the stories as an introduction for the capital letters (which are all equally sized so are easier to grasp than the small letters), then the following is the format I used in the classroom, which is more-or-less the format used in all Waldorf/ Steiner classrooms. Please note that the eBook has the stories in the correct order – ‘The Little Prince and Princess’ is an introductory story, then there are some common consonants introduced, before the more complex but vital vowels are introduced, then more consonants – i.e. NOT in Alphabetical order but in a sequence more appropriate for using the letters and understanding their differences. In Steiner schools the alphabet pictures are gradually pinned up on the wall in alphabetical order – children enjoy seeing the “gaps” get filled through the course of the year.
Please note that Steiner schools are quite strict about not formally introducing letters before the age of 6. The abstract process of learning letters, even when made more imaginative through stories and rhymes, does not sit easily with what young children do best – being busy with their bodies rather than their heads. It’s worth noting that Finland, where no children start learning to read before 6 or even 7 years old, has the best academic results later on in the West, while the US and UK, which tend to push literacy at a much younger age, have among the worst academic results later on. Though there are various factors involved, there are quite a few recent studies corroborating this, for example in Germany (Puhani and Weber 2006), Sweden and Norway (Öckert 2005), or Hungary (Hámori 2007).
So, what follows assumes your child is now 6 years or older (!) – though of course you may have got them at a school where they’re learning letters younger and you want to help counter that a little by broadening the school’s approach...
Do not say anything about the letters being taught on the first day you tell part of the story. Let the story live with the children, and if you can keep the illustration hidden then do so. The longer they can be allowed to come to their own imaginative pictures, the better for their creative thinking and development. The characters representing consonants in this story all have names beginning with the most common sound made by the consonant, not the ‘name’ of the consonant (e.g. ‘g’ not ‘jee’). These sounds are important to get differentiated first, before more complex names and diphthongs etc. To assist there is an alliterative sentence associated with each consonant, at the end of each story in bold. This sentence can be repeated by children even on the first day. Then you can get them to repeat it and do tasks whenever the relevant sound is pronounced – putting hands on hips, or clicking their fingers, first with you, then by themselves.
Clapping can work if there’s not too many children – otherwise the sound gets lost which is counter-productive! And then you can ask them to think of other words that start with the same sound. You can point out differences like soft ‘c’s as you go along, but without getting too heavy about spelling at this stage.
For the vowels things are different: there are the classic international phonetic vowel sounds, there are the English names of these letters which are also used in English words, and there are the simple vowel sounds. So there is more than one sentence you can use for these stories. The international sounds can be confusing (E is English ‘a’ as in ‘name’, I is English E as in ‘need’) so don’t dwell on them beyond the song at the start of the Angel ‘A’ story.
Y and W are both represented by wise ‘friends of the angels’ – the Wise Woman and the Yellow Yogi – which is an idea you could later use with the introduction of the complex vowel sounds that include w or y. However, in this introductory context they are only given their consonant sound.
On the second day the children can see the illustration, and they can copy it too. For this copying it’s best to use good quality wax or pencil crayons, as they allow for more variety of artistic tone than felt tip pens do. Encourage them to really shade in their images, lots of artistic colour is ‘good for the soul’! Then you can work with the magic hidden in the picture – the form of the letter.
Before the children actually write the letter, it’s really good if they can work at a gross motor level first, tracing the letter with their hands in the air, or with their feet in the air, or their nose... and doing so preferably top to bottom, left to right, which is good practice to get into for cursive writing later. Then they can work with it on the floor, walking one you have chalked out (facing the direction you would be looking at while if they were writing it), or drawing one in the sand pit with a stick, or any other imaginative ideas you may have. They can even form the letter out of beeswax or plasticine. Then, on a really large piece of paper (bigger than A4), and with great emphasis on care and beauty – they write the letter, tracing its path first, perhaps writing first in a light colour that they can go over when they are more confident. Over days to come they can practice writing it smaller, but not much smaller than 5cm high yet! Write the letters using colours, there’s no need for monochrome grey during this exploring stage of writing.
Although some of the stories feature more than one letter, try not to introduce both letters on the same day, but keep that day’s writing especially about one special new letter. Once the vowel sounds have been introduced you can start teaching the children three-letter words containing simple vowels and they can have simple phonics fun finding rhyming words that work. At the end of my lessons with these stories my class wrote our first sentence, which was ‘WELL DONE! YOUR GOLDEN OX AWAITS YOU NOW’.
For these first writing tasks we put a little star inbetween each word to show where the space should come. There is no harm in having the children copy words that are longer than their phonics understanding, for writing is a rather different task to reading. Indeed the emphasis in Steiner education is on writing coming first as an initial academic process; it is an activity that engages the whole body, albeit on a fine motor level once the initial gross motor level has been practised. Reading is a much more purely intellectual thing, but how empowering it must be, a day after you’ve written a sentence, to come back and have your own writing as your very first reading task! (Read with the adult’s help, of course). Thereafter if you want to pursue this way of teaching further, there are many other books and resources available online for Waldorf homeschooling, or if you’re interested at a school level browse through www.steinerwaldorf.org in the UK, which has good links for Steiner sites in others countries.