Užmirštos karalystės pasakos

Forgotten Kingdom's Fairy Tales

Labai senai teko dirbti pagalbininku Gedimino pilies atstatymo darbuose Vilniuje. Kartą darbininkai tvarkė pamatus ir netyčia įvirto į kažkokį tunelį. Jame stovėjo dideli indai su auksinėmis monetomis, papuošalais ir kažkokiais užrašais. Kilo vietinės reikšmės sujudimas ir pasitarimas, ką daryti. Galiausiai visi nutarė, kad jeigu pasakysime vadovybei, tie sustabdys darbus, pradės visokius tyrimus ir atlyginimai išgaruos, kaip kaimiečio dešra iš rūkelnyčios, apsilankius kalėdoti klebonui. Neliko nieko kito, kaip radybas išsidalinti tarpusavyje. Buvau laikinas darbuotojas ir man nieko nedavė, tai iškėliau klausimą, kad gal reikia visiems apie tai papasakoti. Kilo dar vienas pasitarimas, kurio metu darbininkai ėmė pergyventi, kad statybose labai pavojinga ir nukritęs nuo pastolių aš galiu nusisukti galvą ir jiems teks mane užkasti ir užbetonuoti tunelyje. Finale susitarėme, kad jie man atiduos raštus ir toliau to klausimo nesvarstysime. Žemiau biologinės substancijos pasakos iš po bokšto, iliustracijas kliedėjo sintetinis išmislas.

The Knight and the Three Earthworms

There once was such a kingdom, but one day a dragon flew in and knocked everything over, smashed the pots, broke the king’s crown, grabbed the princess, and flew home. Enclasped by grief, the king announced that whoever rescued the princess would get her hand and half a leg. No one wanted to drag themselves off somewhere into the mountains to fight a dragon, but when the king promised a boob too, one very noble knight appeared and said to the king:

— All right then, I’ll help you, but whatever I find in the dragon’s home will also be mine.

The king rejoiced, and all the kingdom’s peasants sighed in relief, knowing the king would no longer hassle them.

The knight set off to rescue the princess. He walked like that for several days and nights, until his food ran out and hunger enveloped him. Eventually, he reached a large lake. On this occasion, he decided to catch some fish and started turning over the stones and stumps along the shore. He rummaged and thudded for a long time until under one he found three worms who hadn’t managed to realize what was happening and flee—blinded by the light. Just as the knight was about to stick one onto the hook, it spoke in a human voice:

— Noble knight, don’t kill us and don’t skewer us on the hook. We will help you in better ways. Wrap one of us onto the hook and cast it into the water.

The knight was a bit surprised to see a talking worm, but then remembered that dragons existed, calmed down a bit and replied:

— All right, but if you try to escape, I’ll kill your friends — and threw the hook with the worm into the water.

In the water, the worm snuggled up to the hook so the fish wouldn’t see it, looked around and began shouting:

— Hey, fish, swim here and fast, or you’ll all get it in the snout!

Soon, a crucian carp swam up and said:

— Why are you shouting, not letting me sleep in the mud? I’ll eat you right now, you stupid worm.

The worm looked the crucian carp over, weighed that there wouldn’t be enough meat for the knight and said:

— Get lost. If you try to eat me, the hook will snag your gill, the knight on the shore will pull you out and it’ll be over for you, only bones will remain.

The crucian carp took a closer look — and sure enough, the hook was visible, and a line ran from the hook to the lake’s sky. It thanked the worm and swam off happy to have escaped death. The worm started yelling again. He chased off a few more fish until a large pike swam up, ready to teach the impudent one some lake etiquette. The worm assessed her weight, fatness coefficient, and began insulting the pike:

— What are you staring at, you shriveled swamp herring! Swim closer! I’ll make a rake out of your teeth!

The pike flew into a rage and, without even asking why she needed a rake, lunged to swallow him. But he slipped away swiftly. A tug on the line — the knight yanked and pulled the pike to shore. Everyone ate well and continued on their journey.

Late at night, they reached the dragon’s cave with large gates. The cave was pitch dark, no windows anywhere, and the gates were locked. The second worm said to the knight:

— See, there’s a keyhole in the gate and not even a finger fits through. But I can unlock the gate from inside.

The knight said:

— All right then, but if you try to escape, I’ll kill your friends.

— I’m not going anywhere, — replied the worm, — just let me rummage in your bag a bit.

The worm crawled into the knight’s bag filled with all sorts of stuff and pulled out a long piece of wire. He groaned a long time while bending it into some strange curly shape. He inserted it through the keyhole, hooked onto the latch inside, and unlocked the gates. That worm was a member of the underground movement “Freedom to Worms” and had learned such skills by freeing worms from mole captivity. He and other worms would also steal pots from kingdom villages at night and bring them to the local village blacksmith, who, for a fee, would forge armour and swords for the worms. For that, later, the entire village burned him in the blacksmith’s furnace.

The knight quietly snuck up to the dragon and slew it while it slept. Soon after, in one of the rooms, he found the princess. But when she heard she’d have to give him her hand, leg, and even a boob, she got stubborn and didn’t want to go home with him. She had already grown used to the dragon’s proportions and smaller dimensions didn’t interest her. The knight was disheartened, but the third worm said:

— When the princess is sleeping at night, let me into her room, and leave the rest to me. Come back to the princess in the morning and ask for her hand again.

The knight thought a bit and said:

— All right, but if you try to escape, I’ll kill your friends — and did as the worm asked.

While the princess was sleeping, the worm crawled into her butt, slithered up to her belly, and quietly waited for morning. In the morning, the knight came into the room and again asked the princess nicely to give him her hand along with the other organs. Upon hearing this, the worm began twisting and writhing in her belly. The princess clutched her stomach and thought: “These must be butterflies in my stomach, which is empirical proof that I love him.” ...well... and she agreed to give him her hand, leg, and even both boobs.

Since everything turned out very well in the end, the worms said to the knight:

— We helped you, now release us, noble knight. On your way home, don’t forget to stop by the forest near the lake, we’ll celebrate your mission’s successful ending.

The knight released all the worms and ran to the princess.

He still lived with her a few weeks in the castle, grilled dragon shashlik and feasted on various drinks from the dragon’s cellar. But the dragon began to stink, so they decided it was time to pack all the dragon’s gold they could carry and head home. On the way, they also stopped by the forest to party with the worms. There, the worms were already waiting with a richly laid table. All night they ate, drank mead and beer, which dripped from all ends — in pure and recycled form — they danced, sang, until even the leaves fell from the trees. And in the morning, the worms slaughtered the sleeping and drunk knight and princess. Sitting on a pile of gold, the worms wiped their knives with fallen leaves from the blood and whispered quietly among themselves the moral of the tale: when someone wants to help you, don’t go throwing around threats that you’ll kill their friends, and then go howling drunk in the forest and lie unconscious.

How the Baltic Sea Came to Be

Once, where now the Baltic Sea waves, there were enormous mountains, and atop their peak lived a massive giant, Tamerlanopithecus, who had wandered in from who-knows-where. In the valleys of those mountains—where now is Lithuania—among forests and fields, lived the ancient Lithuanians. And they would have lived without trouble, if not for that mountain tick.

Tamerlanopithecus would descend to the Lithuanians once a year and demand a hundred sacks of Lithuanian maidens, six carts of black bread, and five smoked skilandis sausages. If he didn’t get them, he would tear off house roofs, dig up the ground, and catch as many as he needed himself. Then he’d stomp back to the mountains, where he crunched on them like sunflower seeds until the next time. From the ravines came only terrifying screams.

The Lithuanians endured long. They thought maybe the guest didn’t understand the local customs, but things were clearly turning out poorly with that beast. They pitied both the girls and the skilandis sausages.

Finally, after pondering a plan to resolve everything, they said to him:

— You, Tamerlanopithecus, go east. There’s a fairy-tale land called Maskolia. In its forests, you’ll find many ripe maidens, covered in cotton candy. They climb trees—just pick them like berries and eat.

The giant, drooling with saliva, ran off. But he didn’t like the local berries, because it wasn’t cotton candy, but coarse hair, which stuck between his teeth, and it was very hard to catch them in the trees—like lice in a beard. The giant got terribly angry and headed back to Lithuania—to eat Lithuanian girls and beat Lithuanian peasants for having tricked him.

But the Lithuanians hadn’t wasted time. While the giant was chasing the Maskols, they invited the Ukrainians to help, who had a lot of shovels, since they were digging the Black Sea at that time. They began digging a pit down to the centre of the Earth, right where the giant’s mountain bed lay. Meanwhile, the Lithuanians crafted and set up a hollow bed made of straw in the place of the giant’s bed.

The giant returned home, exhausted, hungry, and weak, and the Lithuanians told him:

— Forgive us, we were foolish, didn’t know it would turn out this way. Here, have a quick snack of a hundred pigs and lie down to rest, sleep. We’ve even laid a soft bed for you. Tomorrow morning, hundreds of maidens will be ready for you. You’ll be able to eat them with one hand, and with the other—beat us.

Tamerlanopithecus’s heart softened; even a tear rolled down. And he decided to sleep, restore his strength, and mentally prepare for tomorrow’s joys. He fell onto the mountain bed… and fell… and fell… for several days, until he crashed into the Earth’s core, smashed his brains against it and burned up right there. Then the Ukrainians and Lithuanians buried him, so that not even a whiff remained of the giant. The Ukrainians took part of the dug-up earth as payment to heap up the Carpathian Mountains, and the rest of the hole they filled with water.

By the way, ever since then, the Maskols haven’t really liked the Lithuanians and Ukrainians—for sending Tamerlanopithecus to them for a meal.

The Boy and the Frog Princess

Once there lived a boy. Every summer, his parents would bring him from the city to the village and leave him with his grandparents. In that village there was a huge pond, and the grandparents, fearing the boy might drown, often warned him:

— Just don’t go near the pond, dear grandson. In its mud lives a very big frog. She’ll catch you and pull you in. That’s how you’ll vanish, never having seen life.

The boy grew and over time became stronger. Influenced by such anti-frog propaganda, he hated frogs more and more. A bit later he got braver and set out to beat them with a long stick. That summer, dozens of croakers were ambushed along the shores and met their end, but the big one still didn’t come out to fight. The boy concluded that to lure out the big frog, he’d have to kill even more members of her group. But it got harder and harder. Frogs started dodging the stick, and later would dive and flee at the mere sight of their reaper. Then the boy crafted a bow from the hardest walnut wood and some strings and began shooting with it. Over several summers, he slaughtered terrifying multitudes of frogs, but the big frog still didn’t come out to face him.

One successful hunting evening, just as the boy was about to head home and was gathering up his arrows along the shore, next to one of them a frog jumped onto a leaf and spoke in a human voice:

— Hello, boy. I am the Frog Princess, and now you’re caught — recklessly firing arrows in every direction. You will now be my husband.

The boy was very surprised to see a talking frog and replied that he didn’t know anything and had only come to pick up a lost arrow. Then out of the swamp rose 12 large frog-princes, each the size of a big ox. In their hands they held huge thudding reed clubs and declared threateningly in unison:

— We are the Frog Princess’s twelve brothers — frog-princes. If you do not marry our sister, you will insult her, and for that we will split your skull like a watermelon and break your legs like corn sticks.

The boy was terrified and, falling to his knees, began to beg for mercy. The frog-princes listened to him and decided not to kill him right away, but instead to bring him before their father, the king, to sort things out.

At the palace, they recounted the events — how the arrow landed near the princess and how, according to ancient traditions, that meant she would be his wife. The boy didn’t want to marry, because his grandfather had told him it was hell, so crying and humbled, he crawled around the king’s paws for about an hour, promising to catch a cartload of flies and mosquitoes if only they’d let him go.

At last, the frog king relented and said:

— Fine, you may go free. In return, each summer we want a sack of flies and a few litres of blood for our mosquito farm. If you keep shooting arrows, you must tie whistles to them, so my other daughters can hear them coming from afar and step aside to avoid production injuries from the fate whistling down from the sky. One daughter is enough for you. When you turn 30, then we’ll hold the wedding. You must come visit me on a diplomatic mission, having by then become very wealthy and influential. For now, you’re just a little snot-nosed beggar, unworthy of my daughter.

What was there to do — the boy agreed, for he saw how the princess’s brothers, standing in the corner of the hall with glowing eyes, were already polishing their metal clubs and hammering nails into the wooden ones, imagining the moment of future justice. The rest of the summer he spent only chasing and catching flies and mosquitoes, and in the following summers regularly donated blood.

When the boy turned 18, the king allowed him to kiss his future wife — the frog — and she transformed into the most beautiful fairy-tale princess the boy could ever imagine. From that moment, the boy, now a handsome youth, truly desired to marry her. By the time he turned 30, the young man had become the richest and most influential person in the human kingdom. And so came the day to go to the frog king for the wedding.

A great feast was prepared in the palace. The tables were loaded with the tastiest flies, mosquitoes, and worms. For the prince and princess, food suitable for humans was laid out — both local and from distant lands. After dancing and singing, in the evening, the princess said to him:

— It will soon be midnight. Go, prepare and warm the bed, and I’ll come shortly.

The happy groom dashed off like lightning to the bedroom, undressed completely, crawled under the covers and began waiting for a night sweet as honey. As soon as the clock struck twelve, into the room burst the princess and her twelve frog-prince brothers with large clubs studded with nails. They dragged him out by his arms and legs, slammed him onto the ground, broke his spine, knocked out his teeth, and shattered all his bones. As the light dimmed in his eyes, the boy heard the angry voice of the princess:

— What, you thought no one would know or remember?! You killed hundreds of my brothers and sisters and still expected I would marry you, suck face with you at night, and roll with you in bed? Why do you think we drained your blood every summer?! So that you, frog-basher snot, wouldn’t have the strength to go on killing frogs. Everything you’ve gained and achieved in your life will now come to me and go to a fund to support the victims of your crimes! — And she pierced his heart with the very arrow he once hunted her with.

And the moral of the tale... frog revenge is cold and calculated — just like their blood. Don’t smash frogs, children.

What Is Happening in the World

Today, there is unrest in our monastery. Chroniclers are rushing in all directions. The kings of our kingdom, Gaul, Anglosaxony, Maskolia, and others suddenly met. Yesterday, the main city bell broke. It swings, but there is no sound. The sundial still works. Rumours are spreading that the same is happening in all the great cities of the world — and that water has disappeared.

Everywhere, royal archers and cardinals with bailiffs began galloping around. Since last evening, a strange vibration has been felt and a humming could be heard. And this morning, above the main cities of the world, large black spheres appeared. A couple of days ago, pigeons disappeared, and smoke-signal communication with Maskolia and Gaul was lost.

Yesterday, the king appeared on his castle balcony above the central city square and read a proclamation, during which he declared that he was abdicating the throne and that the world had now been taken over and would be ruled by reptiloids. I didn’t understand what that was, but a strange creature appeared on the balcony and swallowed our king. Women and children scattered in all directions. Panic gripped the city. I try to keep calm, but I’m also starting to get scared.

Today, several reptiloids broke into our home. My brother Motiejus and I had black spheres pressed into our foreheads. As I understood, we were assigned to work in a coal mine. A neighbouring family from Gaul had red triangles stamped — they were assigned to food preparation. All the food shops have already been emptied by the people. Maybe we’ll manage to get something through the neighbours, because for working in the mines, they give nothing — only blows to the head. Also, something was implanted into my head — I started to understand the reptiloid language and its writings.

Last night, a large group of reptiloids flew into our house. Their faces were painted white, they brought long loaves of white bread, crates of wine, and strange square musical instruments that they squeezed like cow udders. They said it would be a themed party with the Gauls.

Everyone gathered at the Gauls’ house — the neighbours who had just recently been assigned responsibility for food. The residents began whispering among themselves that the reptiloids would now devour all the neighbours’ food supplies and we’d be left with nothing. My brother Motiejus and I were just about to leave. We had worked all night in the mine, digging up some kind of minerals. The reptiloids only flew us and the other people back home in the morning. We were very tired.

The neighbour who lives below told us that the reptiloids had partied all night, pulled their musical instruments, and ate the entire Gaul family with children. Only later did I understand why bones were scattered beneath the broken windows of their room. Neighbours told all sorts of horrors and terrors that had happened across the city that night.

Yesterday, the reptiloids had their party with the Maskolian merchants. I overheard the Maskols smugly saying that they would make a deal with the reptiloids and rule the whole world together. In the morning, we found all the Maskols as clean skeletons in sitting positions along the walls, with bottles shoved up their behinds.

In the morning, something happened. Different flying spheres appeared in the sky, and at the same time, the black reptiloid spheres began disappearing. In the central city square, on the palace balcony, stood the main reptiloid and another strange creature resembling an octopus. Both were clacking something at each other. From a proclamation later posted on the royal board, I understood that the octopuses were some sort of celestial inspectors, and that the reptiloids had mixed up some Suns and their spheres.

The main reptiloid apologized for a long time and announced that reptiloids digest slowly and little time had passed, so almost everyone they had eaten could be reconstituted from reptiloid stomach acids and would be like new.

On the way home, I passed the former bakery, which now had a sign in reptiloid script: “Fresh and soft humanoid meat buns.” There was no one around, not even the baker, so I filled a whole basket with buns.

Today, a few octopuses showed up and told everyone to go outside for some sort of memory procedure. I’ll write more later — now I have to go.

...

I don’t understand who wrote this nonsense in my chronicle. Though the handwriting looks like mine, it’s full of gibberish. My head hurts. I found a basket full of buns in my cupboard. I’ll need to make some tea and eat.

The Little Round Loaf’s Adventures

Once there lived an old woman and an old man, and they had no children. Because of that, the old woman decided to bake a little round loaf. She scraped together flour from all the corners and baked a pretty, round bread product. She placed it on the table, covered it with a towel, and went off to milk the cows. From here the story becomes unclear — whether it was just a hallucination of the old woman, who had sniffed too much flour, or whether it reflects reality — but, based on the old woman’s testimony, events unfolded like this...

The little loaf looked around and thought to itself: “The old woman will come back with the milk and eat me.” After all, he had only just appeared and didn’t understand that the old woman and old man hadn’t baked him to be eaten. At least that’s what the old woman kept insisting to everyone — most likely trying to justify why he had run away from her. So then, the little loaf decided to set out on a journey. He rolled down from the table, through the door into the yard, then through the gate, and from momentum rolled a bit more down the road before stopping. Smelling the tasty scent of fresh bread, a big bear came out of the forest and said:

— Little loaf, little loaf, I’m going to eat you! — He opened his mouth, the crust went crack, and he gobbled him up in a single gulp.

And that was the end of the little loaf’s adventures. What were you expecting — that a round loaf of bread, with no arms and no legs, would roll far and be able to defend itself from a big bear? It's a good thing that no crow or rabbit found him lying there, or he would’ve suffered much longer as they picked at him.

The Witch’s Apples

One day, a young monk met a young devil on the road and they decided to find out who was cooler and stronger. It’s hard to say now whether one looked at the other the wrong way, or whether the conflict arose from ideological differences. Both were young, so they began resolving it right there in the meadow through physical violence. They wrestled and grappled for a long time, but couldn’t defeat one another. The devil tried to stab the monk with his horns and strangle him with his tail, while the monk kept sticking his little cross everywhere, which blinded and burned the imp. Tired and worn out, with swollen faces and gaps in their collections of teeth, they decided that wrestling would not help and they needed to try something else. Then the monk said:

— Nearby lives a witch. She has orchards with apple trees reaching the sky. They’re covered with the finest apples. The orchard is fenced in with high fences and curses. Let’s agree: whoever first picks a bucket of apples — wins.

— All right, — agreed the devil, scratching at the spots burned by crosses from his scalp to his behind.

The monk’s and the devil’s wrestling was even recorded in the local chronicle. It says that during confession, an anonymous person informed the priest that two suspicious young men had been rolling and grunting in a meadow for several days. The priest gathered the town’s men — some brought bundles of firewood, some whole logs on wagons, liquor and snacks — and with their wives and children went to restore local morality. In the fields, the crowd found only trampled grass. To at least compensate for the wasted time, they beat the anonymous man who had blackened the priest’s authority and, in doing so, lost his right to confession secrecy — then all went their separate ways.

No one in the land remembered where the witch came from. Near a dark forest stood a crooked hut and a large orchard, fenced with a tall barrier and thorny bushes. Birds flew around her land in a wide arc, and animals walked around it. Only rarely would villagers find the corpse of some stray beast near a broken part of the fence. Because of this, a settlement began forming nearby. People felt safe from wolves and bears of all kinds, which in other regions sometimes would snatch children and carry them off. The witch herself worked with herbs and didn’t speak the human tongue. In times of great trouble or illness, she would sometimes suddenly appear like a ghost and pull the suffering one from death’s jaws by pouring down strange brews. Everyone feared the witch and never dared to go borrow salt from her. Children were forbidden to approach, lest some misfortune happen to them like to those forest animals. Brave children would throw stones at her only from afar, and she would respond with incomprehensible shrieks and curses. Since the children didn’t fall ill from that, parents tolerated such behaviour from the witch. Only whispered thoughts arose that perhaps it would be better not to take risks — and to burn her down along with her hut.

The monk and devil immediately got to work. They tried climbing over the fence and digging underneath. From the treetops they made wings and tried flying over. Nothing helped. The witch would notice them instantly. She’d rush out of her hut with a broom and chase them like a mole after a worm. If she caught up, she’d snatch the apples and toss the empty bucket back over the fence. The monk and devil barely escaped with their hides. Then the witch would stand howling in rage and making signs. She’d point at the trees and the ground, wave a shovel and mime how she’d bury them. The monk and devil forgot their ideological dispute. They decided to exhaust the hag physically by taking turns. While one slept, the other kept her from closing her eyes.

After a week, the old woman was so worn out that not even the energetic herbs she was guzzling in bright colours helped. She collapsed from exhaustion in her hut’s doorway and began to snore. Then the monk and devil picked a full bucket of apples, pulled flasks of liquor from their satchels and began enjoying themselves right there by the fence. Drunk, they sang until nightfall and shared their proudest memories of stealing those apples. They showed each other their bruises and welts from the broom with pride. Both agreed that setting aside ideological differences, more could be achieved together.

In the morning, the witch’s roaring woke the entire village. Villagers ran over and saw that the two had already been cursed. They lay dead, twisted in horrific poses with faces contorted by suffering. Nearby lay an empty bucket, drained bottles of liquor, and apple cores. People understood that the two had provoked the witch themselves. But the horror and outrage over how she could kill such handsome young men was greater. Even though one of them had horns, hooves, and was entirely red, that only made him more appealing to the local women. They’d heard tales of aristocratic beasts in castles with talking teapots, who just needed to be fixed and have a ring slipped onto their claw. The villagers decided that patience had its limits. They seized the witch, stuffed one of her own apples into her mouth so she couldn’t curse, tied a stone to her neck, and drowned her right there in the lake.

Everyone breathed easier and decided to hold a festival celebrating liberation from darkness. Young and old took part. They danced, sang, drank beer and mead. Without fear, they dug up her gardens, trampled her witchy herbs, picked and ate apples from the trees, baked apple pies, made apple juice, pressed apple cheese. They shared with each other and the children. Even the pigs in their pens were treated. The forbidden orchard’s bounty was at last available to the whole world. Joy knew no bounds. The village elders declared that there was no need to fear witches — for they weren’t so scary after all. They also announced they would build a monument to the monk and the devil, and every year the village would gather for a witch-defeating and apple-eating festival. A festive mood filled the air, the sun shone. It seemed even the birds began to chirp.

People talked about that village for a long time, once the news spread about what had happened there. Word got out when a wandering traveler found it strewn with horribly mangled corpses and not a single living soul. A royal commission was sent, which discovered that the old woman had been mute and deaf — just a simple herbalist. She had tried to protect the locals from eating the apples, for they brought death with their poison. They found that a large part of the orchard had already been cut down. But she could not, on her own, overcome the rapidly growing giants. People puzzled over why she kept it a secret and didn’t ask for help. But later, when the king had the trees dug up and taken away, and those who asked similar questions started dropping like flies in corners, people stopped showing interest.

The apples later resurfaced when the queen fed them to the king and tried to poison his daughter Snow White, who lived with seven dwarfs — but that is another story.

Three Little Nuts

In one kingdom, the king decided to host a feast and at it find a wife for his son. He summoned all the kingdom’s nobles to bring their daughters. In that kingdom also lived a simple merchant, who had a very beautiful and kind-hearted daughter. Upon hearing about the feast, the daughter decided to marry the prince and, without saying a word to her father, set off on foot for the journey.

One evening, while walking like that, she met a squirrel, thrashing in a hunter’s trap. She felt sorry for the poor squeaking creature and freed it from the trap. The squirrel immediately transformed into a forest enchantress and said:

— I test all the candidates this way. This is how I want to find out which are worthy of the prince and which are not. You are the first one who freed me. All the others indifferently passed by in their carriages or ordered me killed and my pelt skinned. For your kindness, I will give you three little nuts. When you find yourself in a hard situation and need help, think of a wish, crack the nut, and your wish will be fulfilled.

Arriving at the castle gates, the girl noticed that her clothes were poor, her hairstyle too, and she didn’t have a splendid carriage like the other ladies. She ran into the nearest bushes, pulled one little nut from her pocket, and said:

— Little nut, little nut, give me the most splendid carriage, so that the prince, having seen me from afar, would choose me.

As there was nothing at hand with which to crack the nut, she decided to bite it open. She bit and bit, until — pop! — her left-side teeth cracked, and the nut stayed whole. Gripped by pain and anger, she threw the nut into the grass.

Then she began thinking: “Maybe the wish was too big and I should lower my expectations.” She took out the second nut and said:

— Little nut, little nut, give me the most beautiful dress, so that the prince, having seen me from afar, would choose me.

She bit and bit, until — pop! — now her right-side teeth cracked, and again, nothing happened to the nut. Gripped by pain and frustration, she threw this nut into the grass too.

Then she again began thinking: “Maybe I expect too much from such a small nut and even my last wish was too big.” She pulled out the last nut and said:

— Little nut, little nut, give me the most graceful hairstyle, so that the prince, having seen me from afar, would choose me.

Her left and right sides already hurt, so she began biting with her front teeth. She bit and bit, until — pop! — all her front teeth cracked, and the nut didn’t even flinch. Clutching her mouth in pain, she even let out a scream, and threw away the last nut.

“So be it, there’s nowhere else to turn. I’ll go as I am,” she thought, and headed into the selection hall, where she stood among the other candidates. Since she was indescribably beautiful, the prince noticed her right away — without carriage, without a beautiful dress, without a hairstyle. He took her by the hand and they danced, and clung to each other that evening as much as etiquette permitted. The prince was only puzzled why she wasn’t speaking to him.

At the end of the evening, the king gathered everyone into the main hall and told them to form a circle around the prince. The court painter appeared and declared he would make a quick sketch for the royal archive and told everyone to smile. The merchant’s daughter, lost in dreams of her upcoming wedding, forgot herself and smiled. The prince and his attendants saw her toothless mouth and became terribly frightened, thinking she was sick or didn’t brush her teeth, and he ordered her removed from the selection.

The girl returned home, saddened. The prince chose another woman as his wife. Later, it turned out the prince was a terrible womanizer, and that same year, during a conflict, he strangled his wife and threw her from a tower.

The forest enchantress later visited the merchant’s daughter and explained that she wanted to protect such a kind girl. And, so that in the future she wouldn’t fall victim to her own flawless beauty, she gave her metal nuts. The girl tried to beat the enchantress, but she turned into a squirrel and escaped through the open window.

After having her teeth fixed, the merchant’s daughter better understood how dangerous the world could be, and that even those who consider themselves enchantresses and claim to help might have squirrel brains.

Incidentally, in a parallel kingdom, the enchantress gave the merchant’s daughter actual magical nuts. That girl, just the same, bit into them with her teeth — and died instantly with a carriage wheel in her throat.

Magic Beans

Once there lived a little man who was happy with what life had given him and didn’t tear himself apart for anything extra. One day, a strange merchant came to his homestead and said:

— Give me all your valuables, and in return I’ll give you magic beans.

He told stories about how they bring huge harvests, cure all illnesses, and even lay golden eggs. For those eggs, one only had to climb into the sky.

The little man had nothing, so he ransacked his neighbour’s house while the neighbour was away at the market. He bought the beans and, cheerful, buried them in the garden next to his house. Too lazy to fetch water from the well, he simply peed on the spot and went off to sleep.

In the morning, he gets up — and lo! the merchant hadn’t deceived him. A giant stalk, piercing the butt of the clouds, stood in the place where it was sown. The man looked up and thought: “Why should I climb into the sky to pick fruit or gather some eggs? The ripe ones will fall down on their own. And to water such a monstrosity — you’d never haul enough water for that.” So he went back to lie in bed again.

Unwatered, the bean quickly withered and collapsed onto the house, burying the little man beneath the rubble. And so the story ended — because he had no desire to strive for himself or for others, and had no motivation to develop the plot. But he could have risen high.